#and then i didn’t and my anxiety woke up so instead of just writing it a few days later i pretended it didn’t exist

[szczylpierdolony]

it’s so not fair depression has real life consequences

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

Safer to Kiss (part 2) - Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

read part 1 here!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Word Count: 3236

Summary: the day after drunkenly kissing your best friend and coworker, Spencer Reid, the BAU catches a case. Lots of talking with other members of the team, general group dynamic chaos, and ✨Pining✨

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, normal Criminal Minds violence, maybe some mild cursing? Mostly just pining teehee

A/N: thank you so much to everyone who interacted with part 1! I am so pumped about this lil series, and part 3 is already started 🙈 I love love LOVE hearing from you guys, it makes me so happy and inspired to continue writing. 🥹 also not my gif, all credit to the owner bc LOOK AT HIS LIL FACE

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Spencer’s hands were on your hips. Spencer’s hands were on your hips. Suddenly the three glasses of wine and 2 glasses of champagne were null and void, because you felt completely sobered by the time your mouth pulled away from his. The reality of the situation hit you like a bus - you, in a drunken stupor, had stupidly, idiotically, irreversibly kissed your best friend. Right on the lips. There was no excusing it as a friendly peck on the cheek.

Your entire face felt hot as you pulled away, and as Spencer’s hands retracted to his own space. You felt wobbly - okay, maybe you hadn’t sobered up - and when you were once again leaning against the railing of the stairs on your apartment building’s stoop, you blinked a few times.

Spencer blinked a few times, too, as if to process what had just happened. He’d tasted like red wine, which you saw he’d only had one single glass of tonight, and spearmint gum. The combination reminded you of spring.

Your best friend tasted like spring.

Your eyes widened, buggy, as if they might pop out of your head, and you opened your mouth to say something, but no words came out.

Spencer spoke instead, with an earnest expression on his face. “Y/N-“

“Thanks for getting me home in one piece, okay, goodnight!” You rambled off, the words sliding off your tongue like they were on a luge, all blurring together into one, long megaword. You slid in behind the door and stumbled up to your unit before you could say another word.

You couldn’t believe yourself, replaying the moment on your stoop over and over as you locked the door, leaning against it and running your hand over your face. Spencer’s expression had been completely dumbfounded when you pulled away from the kiss. There was no doubt in your mind that he had been about to politely reject you, in that way that only he could do. I’m sorry, Y/N, but I think we’re better off as friends, he would say, simultaneously humiliating you and ripping your heart in half.

That’s why you’d cut him off, before he could say anything, before he could address the situation, before either of you had to acknowledge that it had actually happened.

You slept poorly that night, your anxiety getting the best of you. It was that look on Spencer’s face, how you just knew he was going to tell you in the kindest, most sensitive tone that he didn’t like that you kissed him. And your Nan’s voice ringing in your head - You’ll find someone someday, Button. You’ll be just as happy as your sister someday, Button.

You tossed and turned, and woke up with a violent hangover. All the coffee in the world was not enough to cure the aftershock of the night before.

Your stomach was in knots, a lethal combination of hangover ickies and irreversible mistake anxiety, and as you took a cab to work, you leaned your head against the seat behind you.

You flashed your badge to security and boarded the elevator to ride up to the sixth floor. The doors opened to reveal Penelope Garcia, clutching a stack of folders to her chest, waiting for you.

“Good morning, pumpkin,” Penelope flashed a smile, then grabbed you by the wrist, practically yanking you along behind her as she headed towards the conference room. Your head was pounding and while you loved Penelope with all your heart, in that moment, you wanted to throttle her. “You look horrible. We’ll discuss that later, and don’t even think about trying to internalize it and brush me off. I might not be a super magic genius psychic profiler, but I can tell when one of my love-bugs has had a wild night and I want details. Unfortunately for you, darling, you have a case. Hotch asked me to pull you directly into the conference room. Everyone’s waiting.”

Usually, when Penelope rambled on like that, you were able to keep up. In this weakened state, however, the words hit you like someone throwing putty against a wall, and it took a minute to process. You found yourself standing in front of the closed door of the conference room, with slackened posture and narrowed eyes. “Okay,” you managed to murmur before Penelope dragged you behind her, into the conference room.

You could feel the team’s eyes on you as you slumped into the empty seat. You avoided eye contact with everyone, especially Spencer, projecting to the room that you were not to be asked about your disheveled appearance and obvious headache. You spared a glance at Spencer. He looked perfect, as per freakin’ usual, with a purple button-up dress shirt and a dark tie over it. He sat up straight in his desk chair, as if last night hadn’t affected him in the slightest. You hated that.

Hotchner cleared his throat. “Let’s begin. Garcia?��

Penelope’s eyes lingered on you, fluttering from you to Spencer, and you watched as she seemed to resist the urge to say anything. “Ooookay,” she spoke, drawing the word out as she stood before the table. She used the TV remote to present the case’s info on the monitor. “We’ve got a local case today, my fine furry friends. Three men killed in three weeks,” you took a drink of the water in front of you as Penelope presented three driver’s license photos on the TV screen. “All bodies have been identified. Twenty-three-year-old Harvey Gibson, twenty-nine-year-old Kyle Moore, and twenty-eight-year-old Malcolm Greene. All three were found in alleys in downtown D.C, cause of death multiple stab wounds to the chest, stomach, and genitals.”

You choked on your water when you saw the last photo. Malcolm Greene, as in, Malcolm Greene, the guy you spoke to last night at the art gallery? You remembered spotting him from across the room, and thinking about how Spencer had said he’d gone on a date (albeit, an unsuccessful one) over the weekend, and you wanted to prove to yourself that you could be interested in other men. And then you’d gone over to Malcolm, spoke to him for an embarrassing two minutes and twelve seconds, and walked back to Spencer with a red face. And now he was dead?

Concerns about your relationship with your best friend aside, your eyes met Spencer’s across the conference table and the two of you seemed, for a moment, to fall back into your old dynamic, having a somewhat telepathic conversation with just your expressions.

That’s the guy…? Spencer seemed to say, his brows furrowed slightly.

A subtle bob of your head was how you responded. Yep, that’s him.

Spencer’s mouth formed a straight line, a mannerism that everyone around the table seemed to notice.

“Reid, Y/L/N, what’s going on?” Derek piped up, inclining his head to the side curiously. “Something you’d like to share with the class?”

Spencer’s mouth opened as if he were about to spill the beans, but he paused, seemingly deciding not to rattle off whatever he was going to say. Instead, he gestured to you.

“Spencer and I went to an art gallery after work last night,” you sighed, feeling your cheeks turn pink. “I may have… flirted, briefly, with Malcolm Greene.”

Derek let out a low whistle, and you saw Emily and JJ share an amused look. Rossi was even cracking a smirk.

Only Hotch remained as stoic as ever. “How long did you speak with him?” He asked.

“Two minutes, twelve seconds,” you and Spencer said simultaneously, and your eyes snapped to his across the table. You swallowed the lump in your throat and somehow felt your whole face turn even redder.

“Some smooth-talker you are,” Derek snickered, and you shot him a glare. Penelope, standing behind him, smacked his shoulder. “Did you get his digits that fast?”

“I don’t really see how that’s pertinent to the case,” you protested, sitting up straight and crossing your arms over your chest.

“It’s just like any other witness interview, Y/N,” Hotch reminded you calmly, shooting the rest of the team a warning glance. “Even the most minute detail could help.” He seemed to realize that you were humiliated, and that the rest of the team’s eyes on you were not helping the situation. “We can talk about it later,” he compromised.

“So, multiple stab wounds to the chest, stomach, and genitals, huh?” Rossi offered as a rough transition back to the topic at hand. Across the table, you heard Emily stifle a laugh.

“Yes, sir. All bodies were posed in a classic casket fashion, arms folded across their chests, eyes closed,” Penelope reported.

“Sign of remorse,” JJ noted, jotting it down on her pad of paper.

“Any cash missing from their wallets, or jewelry missing off their body?” Hotchner asked.

“No, sir, all wallets were found in the clothes of the victims, presumably where they had been kept untouched,” Penelope answered.

“So, not a robbery gone wrong,” Rossi concluded.

“The disposal of the bodies feels inconsistent with the cause of death,” Spencer pointed out, twirling his pen around his finger. His cadence was quick and pensive. “Multiple stab wounds to those particular areas of the body indicate intense rage at the time of the murder, disposing them in alleyways seems to be a choice of opportunity and convenience, but posing the bodies is a sign of remorse, like the UnSub suddenly realizes what he’s done and regrets it.”

“Do the victims have any friends or family in common?” You asked, crossing your ankles beneath the table.

“As far as my preliminary scans can tell, all three men were completely unrelated,” Penelope said. “The only common denominator is how they died and how their bodies were disposed of.”

“Not entirely,” Emily pointed out, standing up and using her pen as a pointer, gesturing to the three ID photos on the screen.

“Don’t these guys all look… strikingly similar?” Emily proposed. All men were white, with aquiline noses, dark hair, and dark eyes. “In fact, don’t they all look exactly like someone we know?”

You took in a sharp breath, just as Penelope let out a small gasp and Derek let out a soft chuckle. “They’re all pretty boys, like Pretty Boy,” Derek laughed.

“So our UnSub has a type,” JJ added.

Derek smirked. “The UnSub and Y/N both have a type.”

Your face turned bright red, and your jaw tensed. You felt Spencer’s eyes on you for a fleeting moment, and before you could say anything, Hotchner stepped in. “Let’s get going on this. Reid, JJ, and Morgan, I want you at the crime scene. Prentiss, Rossi, and Y/L/N, come with me to the local police precinct and interview family and friends. Garcia, too.”

There was an array of agreements murmured, and everyone began to disperse. You wanted to shake Derek by the shoulders for his little comment, especially after all the teasing you took when you realized the man you briefly spoke to last night was now dead.

You were on your way back to your desk when you felt a light touch on your elbow. When you saw it was Spencer, you bit the inside of your cheek. “Can we talk for a second?” He asked, and you shook your head.

Pointing pathetically to your desk, you responded, rather articulately, with, “The case…”

“Yeah, I know. The case. But, Y/N, we have to talk about last night,” Spencer said, looking down at you. Even though you were actually tall for a woman, Spencer still had at least four inches of height on you. Maybe five. “I mean, you just, like, escaped from me the first second that you could. Was it…?”

You furrowed your brows, confused as to what Spencer was trying to say. “Did you mean to kiss me?” He asked.

This was it. This was the out. He was giving it to you, whether he knew it or not. This was the opportunity to take it all back, to say it was a mistake. You could blame it on the wine, on your Nan’s phone call, on Malcolm - what was he gonna do, sell you out?

The chance to save your friendship with Spencer Reid was right there, and you stood there and you looked up at Spencer with your mouth open, words ready to spill out, when -

“Hey, Reid, you coming, man?”

Saved by the Morgan.

You saw Spencer’s jaw tighten, and he exhaled sharply. You were still frozen, unsure of what to say, of how to say it, so when Spencer simply frowned at you and then turned around to join Derek, you weren’t surprised.

You ran your hands over your face, still reeling, foggy from your hangover, thoroughly embarrassed from the entire situation.

“Y/N,” Rossi’s voice piped up, and you turned to see him with an arched brow. “C’mon, we gotta get going,” he gestured for you to follow him.

You sighed, your shoulders slumped, as you joined Rossi. You boarded the elevator with him, just the two of you, to head down to one of the Bureau’s black SUVs. “What’s going on with you?” Rossi asked, furrowing his brows.

In terms of group dynamics, David Rossi was like the team’s mother, in comparison to Hotchner, who was most certainly the patriarch of the BAU. You loved Rossi. He was kind, fairly level-headed, and he always stuck his neck out for the people he cared about. He also was pretty funny, and could make a killer lasagna. All those merits aside, you so did not want to talk about it.

“Not right now, Dave,” you shook your head, leaning against the wall of the elevator, running your palms down your thighs.

Rossi nodded understandingly, but you had an inkling he wasn’t about to just drop it. “I get it. Hungover, in a weird spot with Reid-“

“I’m not in a weird spot with Reid,” you corrected him, and Rossi smirked, knowing he had gotten you to crack. You shot him a (mostly) playful glare. “I had maybe a little too much to drink last night. And I maybe had, accidentally, perhaps…” you groaned, rolling your eyes at the idiocy of your actions the night before. “I kissed Spencer last night. It only lasted for, like, a minute, and right when it was over, I freaked out and went inside my apartment, and now things are just, like, weird between us. And I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, kiddo,” Rossi began, and you pursed your lips. He always hit you with a kiddo when he was about to tell you something you didn’t want to hear. “As a person who has been with many romantic partners-“

You feigned a gag.

Rossi just chuckled and continued. “I think you have to ask yourself - how do you want Spencer to react? Would you prefer to bury this and never speak of it again, or is this the catalyst you needed to finally tell him how you feel?”

You narrowed your eyes. “What do you mean, tell him how I feel?” You asked, playing dumb. Maybe Rossi was just grasping at straws.

“Oh, c’mon, kid, we’ve all seen how you look at each other. The only person who doesn’t know that you’re in love with Spencer is, well, Spencer.”

You felt your entire face flush. “You’re not serious,” you chuckled in disbelief.

Rossi looked at you and batted his eyelashes in a very feminine expression. The expression dropped and he said, “You make this lovestruck school girl expression at him at least once a day.”

“I do not!” You crossed your arms over your chest defensively, just as the elevator dinged, signaling your arrival to the Quantico lobby.

“Yeah, kid, you do. It’s pretty cute, actually. You’re like two lovesick puppies, chasing each other’s tails.”

“He does not think of me like that, Rossi,” you insisted indignantly, your voice taking a more hushed tone as the two of you walked at the same quick pace through the lobby, and outside towards the garage of Bureau vehicles.

The sun hit your face just as Rossi spoke again. “You’re such a good profiler, Y/N. How do you not see it?”

You decided not to dignify Rossi’s opinion with a response. Rather, you just shook your head and continued towards the garage to meet up with Prentiss and Garcia.

When you arrived at the police precinct, Garcia set up in the conference room, and you, Emily and Rossi each took turns interviewing the next of kin for the victims. You interviewed the mother of the first victim, Harvey Gibson.

An art student at Georgetown, steady boyfriend for three years he planned to propose to on Christmas, no criminal record, called his mother every other day. He was a good kid. Comforting his mother, walking her through all the questions the police had asked her three weeks ago — it was always a lot. But with your head already fuzzy and your mind on other Reid-related things, by the time you escorted Mrs. Gibson out of the police station and thanked her for her time, you felt heavy.

It didn’t help when the team reconvened about an hour later, sitting around a conference room at the local police station. You could tell Spencer’s eyes were floating to yours every so often, but you refused to meet them. You were working right now. You couldn’t let the revelation with Rossi distract you from your job.

Penelope took the lead, addressing the entire team. “So, our original thought of the three victims being unrelated actually has turned out to be incorrect,” she began. “Not only do all three of our victims look alike, but they all visited the same art gallery twenty-four hours prior to their murders.”

“Not the one we went to last night?” Spencer asked.

“No,” Penelope clarified. “From Emily’s discussion with Malcolm Greene’s brother, along with tracking the location of the other two victims’ cell phones prior to their deaths, we can determine that all three victims visited a different art gallery - The Restful Owl, just two blocks over from where you and Y/N went last night.”

“So, the victims all meet a certain physical description,” JJ recapped. “Brown hair, brown eyes, early-to-late twenties, and all visited The Restful Owl art gallery.”

“The gallery seems like a solid lead,” Hotch agreed. “All three victims were interested in art in some capacity - Harvey Gibson was studying art, Kyle Moore worked at an art museum, Malcolm Greene was a collector.”

“Perhaps the ruse the UnSub used was related to a particular piece or artist,” Spencer proposed, wrapping and unwrapping his fingers around his pen. “We should get the security tapes from each victim’s visit to the gallery, observe who they spoke to, how they reacted to specific pieces. Maybe the UnSub lured these men to the sites of their deaths by promising them a deal on a work, or something of the sort.”

“Good idea,” said Hotchner. “Prentiss, Morgan, follow up with the gallery. If there’s a specific person or piece all three victims stopped to interact with, I think our next step is pretty clear.”

“What’s that?” Penelope asked.

“We send in someone who just so happens to be exactly the UnSub’s type to the art gallery as bait,” Rossi concluded.

All eyes, including yours, moved across the table, landing on Spencer.

[lightsoutletsgo]

anxiety gremlin — op.81

pairing: oscar piastri x anxious!reader

word count: 3.5k

warnings: mentions of anxiety and generalised anxiety disorder, description of physical symptoms including; nausea, headaches, sweaty hands, stomach pains, brain fog, mental struggles, mentions of panic attacks but reader doesn’t experience one, mentions of food and making food related decisions. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!  hello loves! this one is very personal to me and it was a pretty selfish write tbh... I wasn't sure if I should post it but I decided to do it in the hopes that it brings people some comfort. Oscar's dialogue at the end is a message that I, as the author, want to remind you all. you've got this, even if it doesn't feel like it! happy reading love mimi

Sometimes, it felt as though the world was out to get you. You faced the world and your flight, fight or freeze instincts kicked in. When you woke up, it seemed like it was going to be one of those days. That unexplainable feeling of nausea turning your stomach and an unexplainable headache pulled at the back of your head. Your jaw tensed as the nausea hit you in another wave and you forced yourself to roll over and close your eyes. Maybe if you could get back to sleep you’d wake up feeling better. Your mind however, had other ideas. Instead, deciding to send you down the spiral of impending doom - a lovely gift first thing in the morning. Thoughts whizzed through your head; Why did you feel so nauseous? Why did your head hurt? Had you forgotten something? What were your plans for the day and was that why this horrible feeling was creeping up? You sat up, accepting that you wouldn’t be falling back asleep and decided to get ready for the day. Perhaps a shower would help? The warm water was soothing as it rushed over you and whether it was the heat or the steam or the fact you were doing something to distract yourself, for a moment you felt a little better. Exiting the shower you decided that while the nausea had subsided, it would be a good time to start hydrating and maybe think about eating something. Your phone rang and dragged you from your internal rambling, “Hi baby!” You smiled, despite the fact that your boyfriend couldn’t see you, “Good morning angel,” You could hear Oscar’s dopey lovesick grin through the phone, “how did you sleep?” You set him down on loudspeaker as you got dressed, “I slept okay! How about you?” “I would have slept better if you didn’t keep stealing the blankets…” You gasped, “I do not!” Oscar laughed, “You absolutely do! One night I’m going to record you for evidence.” You giggled, “You do that baby.” Oscar nodded then realised you couldn’t see him, “I’m just calling to find out what you want for breakfast? I figured I’d stop off at that little cafe that you like on my way home.” You gulped, you had no clue what you wanted or how to decide, “I’d love that, thank you handsome!” You thought frantically for a solution, “Uhh you can choose for me! I trust you!” There was a pause on the other end of the line, “Are you sure angel?” “Yup, mhm, so sure!” “O-okay…” After making Oscar promise to drive safely, you hung up. 

You realised that for a moment while talking to Oscar, you hadn’t even thought about feeling anxious but it was as if that realisation had summoned the feeling back. All of a sudden your hands felt shaky and it was hard to focus on anything but the disconcerting feeling in your chest. Sitting down on the couch you did your best to control your breathing. Sometimes you wished that it would just turn into a panic attack and be done with. Anything would be better than this on-off-on-off situation. It was like feeling a sneeze that wouldn’t leave your body. Unsatisfying and unsettling. 

The front door opening made you snap your head up and you realised that subconsciously you had been rubbing your hands on your sweatpants to try and get rid of the clammy feeling. You shook your head and smiled as Oscar walked through the door, you were just a little bit anxious, it was no big deal. 

Oscar beamed at you as he entered the living room. He noticed that you seemed distracted and almost a little shifty. Your eyes kept darting around the room and your hands were absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on the hem of your t-shirt - a habit you usually despised because it had the potential to ruin your clothes. He said nothing, just walked through the room to the kitchen and placed down the paper bags filled with breakfast. “You okay there angel?” You nodded at him but it wasn’t enough to reassure him, “Are you sure?” You nodded once more, why now of all times were you feeling sick again? You sat there grinding your teeth together and clenched your jaw, feeling too sick to open your mouth and reply. You wanted to reply, you really did! But your brain had decided that words were a step too far. “Did you do something while I was out, hmm?” Oscar joked but all it did was make you more anxious, ‘was he angry?’, ‘was he going to shout at you?’, ‘breakup with you?’, “Come on troublemaker, you can tell me!-” “Nothing! Nothing happened! Now will you please stop asking.” You snapped, immediately clapping a hand across your mouth in shock before the tears were welling up in your eyes. “Oscar I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry baby I shouldn’t have snapped… Please don’t be angry!” You rambled a million miles an hour as your hands began rubbing and grabbing the material of your sweatpants again, not even realising your breathing had turned heavy and you were sweating. Oscar stood there in shock, he had never seen you like this before, was this because of him? He slowly approached you, not sure of the issue and not sure how to resolve it. “It’s okay angel, it’s okay” He held his hand out to you but you shook your head, talking through a clenched jaw in the hopes it would help the queasy feeling in your stomach, “Hands sweaty.” Oscar nodded, “Okay then, can I sit next to you?” You nodded, he gently took a seat next to you, careful not to jostle or jolt you, “Is this a medical emergency?” You shook your head, “do I need to call an ambulance?” You shook your head once more, feeling like you wanted to cry.

How embarrassing that you were having an episode like this in front of your boyfriend after hiding it so well for so long. And even more embarrassing that you couldn’t tell him what was going on let alone why you felt the way you did, “Is this a panic attack?” You shook your head no. Oscar made a little ‘oh’ and sat quietly next to you, unsure of what to say or do. You took a deep breath and forced yourself to open your mouth, despite how heavy your tongue felt. “I’m just a bit anxious.” “What about?” You shrugged, “Nothing. Everything. Hard to explain.” Oscar smiled at you through your one word answers and short sentences, “Well I can wait, it’s okay.” You nodded, hands starting to tingle with how long you’d been rubbing them against fabric and you winced as a sudden cramping feeling started in your stomach. Oscar seemed to notice your discomfort, “Please let me hold your hand angel, I promise I don’t care if it’s sweaty and you think it’s gross, I just want to help okay?” You nodded, breathing deeply and letting him take your hand in his. 

As soon as your hand was in his, his thumb was rubbing gentle circles over the back of your hand. A soothing motion that you let your eyes focus on. Watching his hands and how they moved, anything to keep your attention off of the anxious feeling. 

As he sat next to you Oscar wondered how he should approach you to talk about this. Clearly there was something you weren’t telling him. He thought he knew what it was and he understood why you hadn’t told him. He knew that people got anxious, hell he was always anxious before a race, but he also knew that for some people it went beyond unsettling feelings. He guessed that that’s what you were dealing with too. He’d seen Logan feeling like this a few times and so he wracked his brain to try and remember what the American had told him was useful. How about distraction? It was worth a shot! “Want to watch a film?” You nodded, eyes still laser focused on Oscar’s hands. “I knew you had a thing for my hands but you are allowed to blink you know.” He joked, cracking the smallest sound of an exhale of laughter from you, that was a start. “What film should we watch, hmm?” He grabbed the remote to start flicking through options, his hand never leaving yours, but aware that there was enough space between you so you didn’t feel smothered. “I think something cute and funny? Yes that’s a goooood plan Oscar.” You gave a weak smile once more as he talked to himself and he smiled at you, “how about Tangled?” You nodded and he selected the film, settling back into the couch, head looking at you once more, “Do you want to cuddle?” You shook your head and he just shrugged, wanting to keep you as comfortable as possible,  “That’s okay, you just let me know when you do, okay?” You nodded and he squeezed your hand to comfort you, “Do you want to sit back on the couch?” Your body was still tightly wound and feeling like a live wire so you shook your head, physically unable to relax. And still all Oscar did was smile at you.

As the film started, you did your best to focus on it, finding yourself unable to stop smiling and releasing some of the tension in your shoulders at various points when your boyfriend spoke the lines along with the characters, with facial expressions. You watched on screen as Rapunzel and Flynn entered the Ugly Duckling Pub and you realised your body finally felt relaxed enough to sit back against the couch. Oscar silently breathed a sigh of relief, all he wanted to do was fix it for you but he knew that he could only do so much. 

By the time the next song had finished, your body was subconsciously leaning against him. Your head rested on his shoulder and he gently tilted his head to rest on top of yours. You gave a little contented sigh. As you sat there, a wave of tiredness hit you, the physical symptoms and mental strain you’d been feeling since you woke up taking its toll. With Oscar’s warm body next to you and the comforting sounds of one of your favourite movies on screen, it wasn’t long before you felt your eyes beginning to slowly close. Oscar looked down at you and saw that your lashes had fluttered shut. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head and let his own eyes slip shut. 

When you woke up a couple of hours later, the TV was off and you were laying on the couch with a soft blanket covering you. You sat up and sleepily rubbed your eyes, “Osc?” You heard low music drifting through the door to the kitchen and you could hear Oscar mumbling to himself and humming along, cursing occasionally when pots and pans clanged together. He poked his head out from the kitchen door, “There’s my pretty girl. Good morning angel.” He cooed at you and the way you blinked back at him sleepily. “What time is it?” “It’s lunchtime! I was just reheating breakfast.” You nodded, sitting up and pulling your knees up to your chest as he padded across the room to take a seat at the end of the couch by your feet, “I’m sorry.” Oscar’s eyes searched your face as you looked down at your hands in your lap. Oscar’s hand rested on your knee, “Angel, you never have to apologise for something like that…” He trailed off, hesitant to ask you his next question, “do you want to talk about it?” You inhaled slowly, nodding, “Yeah I think I would.” He gently nudged you with his elbow and you shifted back to let him sit in front of you, both of you sitting cross legged. He held his hands out to you and you took them with a shaky exhale.  

“Umm… I’m not exactly sure how to explain it?” You admitted, your fingers playing with his own in an effort to keep yourself grounded as that familiar feeling of your shoulders tightening and nausea creeping up began to settle in. He followed your gaze, “That’s okay, we have all the time in the world. Explain it however you feel is easiest.” You nodded once more, “So obviously you noticed that I was feeling anxious,” He tilted his head to one side to show you he was listening as you continued, “That’s because I have generalised anxiety disorder. And the thing is… I feel like that most of the time.” You admitted shakily, desperately willing yourself not to cry. If Oscar was surprised or taken aback he didn’t show it, instead just linking your hand with his and squeezing, encouraged you continued, 

“There are good days and there are bad days but I’m always anxious… There’s this constant feeling of underlying panic or anxiety or this sense of impending doom.” You looked up and noticed how Oscar’s eyes searched yours, willing you to understand that he wasn’t going anywhere, “I feel nauseous, I feel shaky, my hands get clammy, sometimes it’s like I forget how to breathe, my head and stomach hurt for no reason, my head goes fuzzy and it’s hard to focus on anything but the feeling of how anxious I am…” “Baby…” Oscar breathed, you gave him a watery smile, tears filling your lash line, 

“It makes me irritable, it makes me bitchy, it makes me snap at people I love, it makes me sensitive and emotional, I cry a lot, I cancel plans at the last second, I keep to myself and I build my walls up…” You trailed off, meeting his gaze and noticing that his eyes were filling with tears too, “Sometimes it feels like I’m two people. Me and my anxiety.” You couldn’t help the way the tears fell with a choked sob, “Angel, can I please please give you a hug?” Oscar pleaded, itching to pull you into his arms and comfort you. 

You nodded through your sobs, finally feeling the huge emotional release that had been building since you’d woken up. He reached for you, gently grabbing your arms and pulling you forward onto him. Falling back against the arm of the couch with you against his chest as you both stretched your legs out. He held you for what felt like forever, tightly wrapping his arms around you and stroking your hair, gently murmuring to you and kissing your forehead. When your sobs had subsided a little, he wiped your cheeks, “My sweet girl…” He gently pressed kisses across your face, relishing in the way your crying eased and you let out a little sigh after each one, “Thank you so much for telling me angel.” He paused, “Can I ask why you didn’t tell me before?” He asked gently. You sighed, fisting his t-shirt in your hand as you fought the nervous feeling that made your stomach flip. His hand rubbed up and down your back in a soothing motion as he felt you tense up in his arms, “I’m not mad at you baby, I just want to know what I can do differently in the future. I’d hate it if you didn’t feel safe enough to come to me for help.” You nodded, nuzzling into his chest, attempting to block out the world and focus on Oscar. Just Oscar. 

“Everyone I’ve told has left…” You mumbled sadly, “Hmmm?” His voice was soft, like he didn’t want to scare you out of answering, “I told a few people growing up, uni friends and stuff, and they would always answer with the usual ‘oh yeah I feel anxious too’... Until I explained I had diagnosed anxiety disorder and then,” you sighed, “then they would tell me it was too much for them to deal with, or they would get mad at me for ruining plans, or tell me to just get over it when I tried to talk to them about it.” Oscar’s hold on you tightened a little as he felt a spark of anger burn inside him. How dare they? Anyone could see that you were trying your best, he gave you his full attention as you continued, “I guess all of those things mean that I have a hard time opening up and trusting people with the knowledge of my diagnosis because it’s always backfired… Please don’t be mad at me… I do trust you, I just…” “Hey,” Oscar’s voice was low to ensure he didn’t trigger you, “I’m not mad or disappointed at you baby, I’m frustrated with myself for not noticing sooner.” “I’m pretty good at hiding it,” you admitted, the two of you led there in silence for a moment before Oscar spoke again, “Well I’m beyond proud of you. For dealing with it everyday and for opening up to me.” You tilted your head up to look at him and pressed a soft kiss to his jawline, “Thank you for listening.” He smiled back down at you, “Of course.” 

You summoned up the courage to ask him the question that had been on your mind for a little while, “H-how did you know how to help?” Oscar breathed deeply for a second, “There’s someone on the grid who uhhh, struggles with the same thing. They’ve opened up to me and explained what helps them so I figured I’d try?” You pushed yourself up to look at him in surprise, “Someone on the grid?” Oscar nodded, “I won’t say who, because it’s their thing to disclose and explain,” You nodded, “Of course!” “But they’re doing their best to work on things and ask for help and they’ve been doing really well.” Oscar made a mental note to ask Logan if he would consider talking to you. “Well, Tangled was a great choice!” You giggled as Oscar nuzzled his nose into your neck, “Yeah? I wanted to pick something that wouldn’t make you feel worse.” You couldn’t help the way you threw your arms around him and cuddled into him, so thankful for him and the thought and care he gave to you. “I love you.” It was muffled against his chest but he knew what you wanted to say and so with a chuckle he kissed the top of your head, “I love you too, angel.”

You stayed there for a moment before he was gently pushing you to sit up so he could look into your eyes, “I want to say something.” He hesitated and you nodded at him to continue. He gently held your chin with one hand, keeping you looking at him as his other hand found yours in your lap, linking his fingers with yours and squeezing, despite the way your hands were starting to get a little clammy again, “You may have anxiety disorder but it’s not who you are, baby.” Your eyes widened, he continued, “You are not your diagnosis. There is so much more to you than that. You are kind and caring, you’re smart, you’re beautiful, you’re creative.” Your heart melted at how passionately he was speaking. “You’re loved and valued by me and so many others, angel… I love you, the anxiety gremlin that comes with you and all.” You giggled at how he referred to it, “Anxiety gremlin… I like it!” He smiled, kissing your nose, you scrunched it up and he kept talking, “I know I can’t fix it and make it go away, believe me baby I wish that I could. But I promise that I’ll be here through all the bad days and the good days. I’ll do everything I can to make it easier and more bearable for you.”

You couldn’t help the way you started crying again, happy tears this time, Oscar’s thumb gently wiping them away, “So when you’re feeling up to it, we’re gonna sit down and talk about how I can help. What I can do when you’re having a bad day, the things we can do together, how you like to be distracted, how I can help when we’re out in public, maybe a codeword?-” You giggled as he started speaking faster and faster, you stopped his rambling with a soft kiss, pressing your lips to his, your hand cupping his face, thumb rubbing over his cheek, “That sounds perfect baby, thank you.” Oscar kissed you once more, pulling you into him, “You just let me know when you’re ready.” You nodded, “I will, I promise.” “Good! But for now, we still need to eat our breakfast!”

[froggiewrites]

Hi! I saw that your requests were open and I couldn't wait to jump on the ask train aahhhh >< If it's ok with you, can I request for hurt/comfort with GN!reader x Ace? Prompt is: Ace survived Marineford physically, but mentally and emotionally, he's relapsing due to everything that's happened. Reader tries to comfort him while he has an anxiety attack maybe :((

If this request is too triggering for you, then no worries! Hope you have a good day ^^

~ 🍂 ace's widow ♠️

This was the first request in my inbox, and what a perfect one to start with! Thank you so much for sending it in, I loved writing this. I love writing anything for Ace, and honestly as someone who really struggles with anxiety this was really therapeutic to write.

Do I Deserve It?

Pairing: Ace x Reader

SFW

Summary: Ace has been struggling lately, and you do your best to help. Warnings: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Vague Suicide Ideation, Marineford Spoilers/Mention Word Count: 1.3k

Ace hadn’t been himself today.

You noticed it in the morning, when you woke to an empty, cold bed. Ace typically slept in as late as he could, his snoring being the first sound you hear every morning. After the bloody battle at Marineford, you had been waking up alone more and more. You sometimes find him alone on the deck, staring into the horizon, a distant look in his eyes. When he sees you, he usually comes back to himself, smiling his wonderful, boyish smile, though his eyes remain dim and glassy. He’s somewhere far away, locked inside his own mind, only bringing parts of himself back long enough to kiss you softly, hold your hands, and assure you he’s okay.

This morning he didn’t even notice you were there. You were worried about disturbing him, bringing him back from wherever he had gone too quickly and causing damage you didn’t know how to fix, so you gave him a little time. You found Marco, quietly letting him know that your lover didn’t seem to be in a good mindset, before making Ace a small breakfast and tea.

“I have something for you, my love.” You keep your voice quiet and soft, afraid too loud or sharp a tone will send him running like a frightened animal. His head whips around at the sound of you, his shoulders tensing even more, but he doesn’t leave. That’s something. You set the plate next to him, and gesture for him to take the steaming mug directly. He lifts his hands, ready to receive, but they’re shaking so badly they can’t even wrap around the ceramic properly.

“Ace?”

He’s looking at you, blinking just slightly too rapidly, brow beaded with sweat. He tucks his hands under his thighs, trying to hide what you’d already seen. “Thanks. You can uh–you can set it down there.” His voice is ragged, barely able to get past his quick and shallow breaths.

“My love, are you alright?” You don’t know why you ask the question when you both clearly already know the answer. You set the mug down carefully before gently reaching to untuck his hands from under his legs. You go slowly, giving him ample chance to pull away, but he allows you to take his hands in yours. They’re clammy and unsteady, fingers twitching like he’s readying himself for a fight. “What’s wrong?”

He takes in a shaky breath, trying to steady himself, then another, then another after that. Before you realize it, he’s hyperventilating, and he throws himself into you, burying his face into your neck. You press one of your hands to his chest in surprise, and you can feel his heartbeat racing beneath your fingertips. His arms tighten around you, his nose burying itself deep in your neck, and you feel a wetness against your skin.

Instead of trying to speak, you start gently running your fingers through his hair, smoothing any tangles you find. He holds you tightly and shakes for several minutes, gasping for air. You pretend you don’t hear the choked breathing against you, and pretend you don’t hear how much he struggles to speak when he finally begins to mumble against your neck. “I’m horrible.”

“What?”

“I’m horrible. Awful. I–I should have–”

“Portgas D Ace, don’t you dare say what I think you’re about to say.” You want to pull him out of your neck and force him to look you in the eyes, make him know that what he was about to wish for was the only horrible thing here, but you worry if you pull him back you’ll untether him further and he’ll completely lose himself to the fears that have clearly overtaken him. You settle for kissing the side of his head the best you can without disturbing him, and taking on a gentler but still firm tone of voice. “I’m so glad you’re still here. I can’t imagine a world without you.”

“I am too. That’s the–” He lets out an angry huff at how he’s struggling to articulate, and you see small flames lick up his back. You use one hand to slide gently down his spine, extinguishing them. “So many people died. So many. And Pops almost–” His voice cracks, and he only just barely manages to hold back the new tears forming on his lashes. “For me. Some worthless, useless kid with tainted blood. And I–I’m happy about it. How sick is that? I’m happy I’m alive, even after all of that. Happy they wanted to do that for me. I’m the worst man alive. I deserved it.”

“Ace–” You don’t quite know where to start, so you pick a thread you know you can follow. “First off, it’s only right for a father to defend his son. Pops doesn’t regret a thing, and he wouldn’t even if things had gone worse. He’d do it for you. You’re his son.” 

His breath hitches again, and he lets out another quiet mumble. “I was so happy to see him. I kept telling myself it was okay, that it was better this way, but I was so happy to see him and know that I might live. Even if I didn’t deserve it. Even if things were worse with me here. I wanted to be allowed to live.”

“You are allowed to live. And every person there wanted you to. Still wants you to. You have no idea the good you’ve done, how many people you’ve helped. You’re a shining light, Ace, and none of us want you to be snuffed out.” Your hands rub soothing circles into his back, tracing lightly over the dimple at the bottom of his spine. His breathing slows slightly as his breaths get a little steadier. He’s still shaking in your arms, but less than earlier.

“I want to live. I want to keep going. But some part of me is still there, with the blade against my neck, and he’s begging for it to be over. It’s hard to ignore him.”

“I know it can be hard to hear anything over the voice in your head. But I promise you you have people here for you. I’m right here whenever you need me. Marco’s here. Pops is here. We all will help you in whatever way we can, whenever you need us. We love you, Ace, and we’re so happy you’re still with us. I would do all of it again if it meant keeping you safe, and I promise you everyone else feels the same. Even those of us who didn’t make it. We love you. We need you. We want you to live.”

You feel hot, wet tears against your neck again as he quietly cries into you. “I want to, too. I really want to.”

“So you will.”

“I will.”

You hold him for as long as he needs, long after his breakfast has gone cold and the sun has risen. The tension leaves him slowly but surely, and after a while you hear a soft snoring. You adjust him to a more comfortable position, leaning your back against the railing of the ship. You let him sleep as long as he needs, until the sun is high in the sky. Many members of the crew pass you, give soft looks of concern, but no one disturbs him.

Your talk doesn’t solve his problems, of course. They’re much bigger than a single conversation can solve. But instead of waking up to an empty bed, you start waking up to warm arms around you and a head buried between your shoulder blades or in your chest, listening to your heartbeat. You still find him on the deck, staring into the horizon, but instead of giving you a fragile smile when you find him he simply takes you into his arms, finding comfort in your presence. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and Ace certainly won’t be rebuilt in one. But there is always a first day, then the one after that, and another, until eventually you can’t remember what it felt like before the first bricks were laid. He can be happy, in time. You can’t wait to see it.

[thecapricunt1616]

Dragon Fruit (c.b. one-shot)

Blurb (More BTC!) : It wasn’t that Carmen wanted to have such a raunchy, probably downright perverted dream about using your mouth to keep himself warm while he does paperwork at The Bear. He chalked it up to the fact that his brain was a dark scary place, he didn’t know where these images of forcing your face down until there were tears leaking from your eyes and you were drooling down your chin as you gagged with your nose against his pelvis came from.

♡ One Shot Inspo: Based on ♡this♡ ask from a dear sweet anon, I hope you enjoy it! Dragon fruit, with its vibrant appearance and exotic flavor, holds a special place in ancient mythology across various cultures. In ancient Mayan mythology, dragon fruit was considered a sacred fruit symbolizing fertility and abundance. The fruit’s striking appearance, with its bright pink or red flesh speckled with tiny black seeds, was believed to represent the balance between life and death. ♡ Summary: You tell Carmy about your fantasies of being woken up by him while he uses you, he takes it upon himself to bring that to life. ♡ W/C: 1.5k+ ♡ A/N: WOW 2 one-shots in one day?! it's one of those days yall!! What can I say I am literally anxiety from inside out personified and I think there will be a rush of folks after today due to the new season so I wanted to clear out my inbox as much as I could, I hope you all enjoy this!!! I can't freaking wait for the new season tonight i'm literally writing to distract myself hahah ♡ Warnings for BTC: Smut, Somnophelia, Swearing, Dirty talk, Wet dreams, Ownership kink

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It wasn’t that Carmen wanted to have such a raunchy, probably downright perverted dream about using your mouth to keep himself warm while he does paperwork at The Bear. He chalked it up to the fact that his brain was a dark scary place, he didn’t know where these images of forcing your face down until there were tears leaking from your eyes and you were drooling down your chin as you gagged with your nose against his pelvis came from. 

Well, he did. He did actually know where his dark perverted brain found the fantasy of using your body as a toy. You. You. It was your fucking fault. He never thought before that he would really enjoy something so… masochistic? He wasn’t sure if that was the word, but he knew it made him feel strange at first when you told him sometimes you wish instead of jacking off in the shower before work, that he used your body instead to get off. 

He chuckled and told you it was too early for you and he would feel bad waking you just to get off, and you told him again to just use your body to get himself off. He was dumbfounded for a moment, and asked “while you’re- like…when y’sleepin’?” And when you nodded, his eyes widened a bit. 

“I trust you, and I love you, and I always want to make you feel good. I don’t mind if you use me when I’m asleep… I actually think that’s really hot. I’ve had this dream where I woke up and you were inside me…or that I woke up and you were cumming on my face-“

“Christ babe y’cant…” he adjusts himself in his sweatpants and crossed his ankles over “y’cant say shit like that” he blushed a bit causing you to giggle

“What? Why not! It’s the truth. Remember when I told you I want you to own me? I was serious. That’s so sexy, I love belonging to you” you said and kissed his neck gently. He hummed in response, shrugging. 

“I’ll think about it” he said and went back to scrolling on his phone to avoid any more tenting in his pants. You could hardly fall asleep that night, this being- because when Carmy told you he’d think about something it meant he wasn’t ready to say yes yet, so you hoped that soon you would wake up to being painfully yet euphorically stretched from the lack of preparation, or to cum covering your lips and eyelashes. It actually made it hard to fall asleep, and Carmy already fell asleep, so it’s not like you could ask him for help. 

Instead of rectifying your issue, you just decided to continue pressing your thighs together until you were right on the edge, and then stopping, and working yourself right back up again, then stopping again, until you were so uncomfortably wet you had to allow yourself to cum, and then fell asleep in exhaustion with the hopes or dreams more like it that it would make it nice and easy for Carmy to slip his hard cock inside you come morning. 

It was as if the two of you were on the same horny wavelength - or there was something in the water? Because Carmy woke up the following morning impossibly hard after his dream. The clock read 3:22, great. 48 minutes until he was meant to be up, and his cock was achingly hard, so hard it was pulsing. The kind of ache that said he wasn’t hallucinating and he was on and off having intense vivid wet dreams all night long and had been cycling between hard and half hard all night long. 

He looked over to see you had tossed off your blanket in the night, figures - it’s hot as shit. He hadn’t even bothered with his, he just wore sweatpants to bed and he was fine with that. His eyes rake over your body, you were laid on your back, likely to keep cooler. You were wearing a tight cropped tank top that showed your peaked nipples, he swore at the sight he felt a bead of pre leak out of his tip. He looked down to see.. how fucking embarassing. He’d already cum tonight at least once, in his fucking sleep. There was a large milky white stain covering his tented cock in his sweatpants, standing tall and at attention, ready to go again. 

He shook his head a bit, sighing softly to himself and looking back over at you. His eyes continued trailing down, down, to your panties and woah. He leaned in, ever so carefully brushing his middle finger over your panties to gauge if they really did have a huge wet patch that went all the way up to your mound, and to his demise, in your sleep- still needy as ever attempt to grind into the touch, a soft, satisfied sigh leaving your lips at the found friction. 

He quickly moved his hand back, but remembered what you had said last night, the words bouncing around his skull like a broken record. 

‘I’ve had this dream where I woke up and you were inside me…or that I woke up and you were cumming on my face, I want you to own me’

He swallowed thickly, squeezing his eyes shut, telling himself it was wrong and that you couldn’t really know if you wanted that. But his pounding heartbeat felt like it was everywhere, and it was getting stronger in his cock. He had to do something. He thought about getting up and going to hide in the bathroom and jack off, but no - he figured that could offend you or make you more weirded out then if he was just jacking off. 

Then, he told himself in his mind how he was a man who paid bills in this house so if he wanted to play with his dick in his own bed then he absolutely could and there should be no consequence. But then he told himself that sounded assholish and was back at square one unsure of what to do. 

He knew he had to let his dick out of this cloth prison, though. The pressure was starting to actually hurt. He pulled down his waistbands just enough for his cock to spring out, and it did so in such an aggressive manor that there was a audible small slapping noise when it slapped his happy trail that Carmy didn’t even notice because he was too busy sighing in relief.

The thought of you saying you wanted to be fucked awake crossed his mind, so he figured you couldn’t get mad if he was just looking at you while he fisted his length. So that’s what he did, at first. He reached over to the bedside, pumping lube into his hand from the big bottle he kept on deck for the two of you, and got to work. 

He looked at that wet spot on your panties, wondering what had gotten you all worked up while you were asleep. He wondered if it was one of your dreams that you woke up to being filled with his cum, leaving you dripping the rest of the day. Maybe you were dreaming about him using your folds and your clit to get off, humping you in a spooning position while he whispers in your ear how fun your body is to use. 

He was quickly spiraling down this rabbit hole and not even noticing that he’d sat up, and was looking down at your peaceful sleeping form as he jerks his cock roughly over your stomach, grunts and breathy groans leaving his throat quietly as to not disturb you. He sat on his knees, knuckles brushing your stomach just barely as he fisted his length, breathing getting more ragged. 

You were drawn from sleep to see your beautiful boyfriend, head thrown back in euphoric bliss, veins in his neck popping out “well good morning to you too” you said sweetly and lifted your shirt a bit more so he’d spill straight on your skin. 

“Mm-fuck- morning- let me see y’tits” he rasped the order, slowing down his strokes as his cock stiffened to make sure he lasted a bit longer. 

“Of course” you eagerly took off your shirt, sitting back on your elbows “glad I could wake up to join the party” you spread your thighs, trailing one of your hands down to play with your clit 

“S’not a party- markin my property, remember? Move y’arm wanna cum on y’stomach” he brushed your hand away from playing with yourself which just got you all the more turned on by the way he was using you as you asked him to so many times before. You made sure you angled yourself so when he came just a few more pumps of his broad hand later, it coated your stomach and ribs in white creamy puddles. 

He groaned as he continued pumping his cock to milk out any last dribbles of cum, before dipping his middle finger in the biggest puddle and getting a scoop of the milky seed on his finger. You carefully watched as he drew ‘CB’ on your tit in the arousal, before getting up and heading to the bathroom for his morning shower like it was just any other Thursday morning. But not without ordering you- 

“Let that dry” 

[leighsartworks216]

... Oops

Harvey x gn!Farmer

Had this thought when I remembered I had to take my meds tonight. I just think it would be nice to have someone who takes care of you when you're a bit stupid and forget to take very important meds 👉👈

Also, Baja Blast is the actual name of my blue chicken lmao

Also also, this is written in third person POV instead of my usual second person POV

Warnings: swearing, dizziness, anxiety, possibly OOC Harvey

Word Count: 1,592

Masterlist

AO3

Harvey rubbed at his eyes as he slipped out of bed, glancing absentmindedly at the empty space beside him. The farmer was already up, of course. He worried for them when he realized how early they woke up each day, but it couldn't be helped if they wanted to take care of their farm all in one day.

He adjusted his glasses on his face as he shuffled to the kitchen. A cup of hot coffee sat on the counter waiting for him, as it always was. He smiled to himself. Fresh coffee from beans they grew themselves always tasted better than anything Gus could ever dream of making. It was perfectly bitter and smooth as he gulped it down.

He looked out the window of the cabin that overlooked the field left to the farmer by their grandfather. There weren't any unwanted stumps, logs or boulders anymore. Fences penned in the animals as they meandered about, munching on fresh grass. The crops were already watered. The scarecrows teetered slightly in the breeze, the fabric of their gloves almost appearing to wave back at him. He always enjoyed the one that resembled an animated movie character - the farmer had been so proud of it when they stuck it into the ground.

His eyes scanned the paths and fences, searching for his partner.

Hm, they must be in one of the barns.

He stared out a while longer, hoping to catch a glimpse as they came out. A concerned frown etched its way onto his face, but he tried writing off the anxiety swarming in his gut. They're probably just refilling the feeders or refilling their kegs or... Really, it's nothing to get worried about. They knew what they were doing! As long as they stayed out of those damn mines, he had nothing to worry about.

He sighed, shaking his head to remove the flood of worried thoughts in his head. Downing the last of the coffee and placing the mug in the sink, he went off to the bathroom to get ready for a day in the clinic.

He peeked out the window again after he got out of the shower. A blue chicken - a gift from Shane the farmer had named Baja Blast - clucked cheerily as it walked out of the open gate. The farmer usually kept the gates closed, always worrying about coyotes or foxes coming to eat their precious hens. It was unusual for them to keep it open, even if they were inside the coop.

He bustled about in a slight rush to get dressed and gather his things for work, namely a giant thermos of coffee and a lunch prepared for him waiting in the fridge, before slipping out of the cabin. He set it all down on a rocking chair sitting on the porch, creaking in the wind.

Baja Blast clucked up at him as he scooped her into his arms. “C’mon, you shouldn’t be out here. All your food is in here,” he says to the chicken as he steps through the gate and closes it behind him. With a cursory glance back, it didn’t seem like any other chickens got out. He couldn’t remember how many his partner had anymore. He had no idea how in the world they kept up with chickens, ducks, goats, sheep, cows, and pigs on one farm alone. It made his head spin trying to guess how they kept their head on straight with so much to do.

He set Baja Blast down with a white chicken, Madame Clucks. She went back right to pecking away at the grass.

Harvey set his hands on his hips as he looked around. Even out here, he couldn’t see the farmer. Okay, how he was worried. His hands fidgeted anxiously as he stumbled in his loafers through the soft dirt to the coop door. If they weren’t in here, he’d have to check the other barns. And if they weren’t in the barns, he’d have to call Marnie or Shane, or, Yoba forbid, Marlon at the Adventurer’s Guild, just in case they really had slipped off to the mines without telling him. But what if they weren’t in the mines? He’d have to call- Yoba, who could he call? Everyone? Ask if they’ve seen the farmer around today? It wasn’t even 8am, nobody would be up and about to know if they’d gone through town.

He pushed open the door, a bit harder than he meant to as some chickens lingering inside bawk’d and spooked away, leaving feathers in their wake. He couldn’t even focus on that. His eyes immediately landed on the figure sitting on the chest by the mayonnaise machine. They were hunched over and holding their head.

“Farmer!” Harvey rushed forward, all the old anxiety quickly replaced with a thousand more fears. He knelt down by them and rested a hand on their shoulder, looking at them with wide eyes. From this angle he could see their eyes were closed, face pinched in discomfort. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

They shook their head. “‘M just lightheaded. I bent down to grab the eggs and I got really dizzy.”

He pressed the back of his hand to their forehead, brushing back some hair as he pulled away. “You’re not running a fever.” He let out a hesitant breath of relief. “Do you think you can stand?”

After a moment, they nodded. Harvey stood up and supported them as they stood. They wobbled on their feet, but he wrapped an arm around their waist to steady them.

“Easy now. Let’s get you back inside.”

“What about-”

“Don’t you dare put your farm over your own wellbeing,” he warned. “I can call Shane and see if he’ll take over for the day.”

The farmer sighed, relenting. He knew how much peace they found tending to everything themselves, despite how overwhelming it seemed on the outside. They had a whole process for everything, and they’d explained before just how much of the simpler tasks they’d automated with sprinklers and some of Maru’s machines. Still, he was absolutely not about to let them go right back to work when they can barely stand up without a light breeze threatening to knock them over.

Harvey opened the gate and helped them through, shooing Baja Blast back inside as he shut the gate again. His partner gave an undignified snort at the offended squawk she let out. “At least you feel well enough to laugh.”

“Like I said, Harv, I’m just dizzy.” They leaned heavily into him as he led them along the paths to the cabin. Their feet hung up on uneven stones and the stairs leading to the door more than once.

“Dizziness is a symptom of something else. I just want to make sure it really is nothing serious.”

“I know you do.” They offered him a slight smile, but it quickly soured to a frown as they shut their eyes again with a frown. “Yoba, it feels like the whole world is spinning.”

“We’re almost there.” The line would have been less out of place if this wasn’t their home that they knew as well as they knew the names of all their animals, but they were too out of it to point it out and Harvey was too in his own head to notice it. So they stumbled together through the house to the large two-person bed.

The farmer laid down with a whine, pressing the balls of their hands to their eyes. “How is this worse somehow?” they groaned.

Harvey pressed a comforting hand to their shoulder. “Did you eat breakfast this morning?” They hummed affirmatively with a nod. “When did you get back home last night?”

“Like… 1? 1:40?”

He sighed, scratching his brow with his thumb. That was a conversation for later. “Did you take your meds?”

The silence was deafening. They covered their whole face with their hands with a muffled, “Fuck, I’m stupid.”

“So you didn’t take your iron?”

They shook their head but regretted it immediately after, uncovering their face with a grimace. Their hands plopped pathetically to the bed beside them. “No, I completely forgot. I was trying to run back from the beach after fishing all night - I must have been so tired it just slipped my mind.”

He let out a long sigh. “At least it’s nothing serious. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“‘M sorry, Harvey.”

“It’s…” He frowned at the idea of saying ‘okay’. As a doctor, he really couldn’t brush off not taking prescribed medication, especially with a partner with such a severe case of anemia. He’d protest against them running a farm at all if they weren’t so determined. “We’ll figure out a better system, okay? We can put them in a pill-minder and keep them on your nightstand.”

They nodded. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

That shocked a laugh out of him. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to their forehead, his mustache scratching their skin in a familiar way. “Of course - that is my job after all. Now sit tight, I’ll grab your supplements and call Shane. Anything he needs to know about?”

“Just make sure he pets all of the animals. They deserve daily pats.”

“I’ll make sure he knows,” he chuckled fondly as his footsteps began their retreat from the bedroom to the house beyond.

“I love you!”

His warm laugh rang out again, echoed against the wood Robin nailed together and the photos on the walls. “I love you, too!”

[specialagentlokitty]

Damon x reader - know you

I just got cheated on so could you possibly write a cute fluffy Damon story where the reader has anxiety or something :) - Anon💜

Damon knew your tells and signs for when your anxiety was getting bad.

He picked up on them when he first met you, while his brother was obsessed with your best friend you were different, quieter, you didn’t talk much unless you were spoken to.

One evening he noticed one even while everyone was at the his talking and enjoying a relaxing night that you started to slowly tap you leg.

“Hey, can I talk to you?” Damon asked you.

He placed his hand on your shoulder and you nodded, getting up to follow him.

The others didn’t seem to notice the pair of you slipped out of the room and Damon waited for you in the hallway with his arms crossed.

“What’s Uhm.. what’s up..?” You asked softly.

“That’s what I wanted to ask you.” He said.

Standing this close to you, he could clearly hear the rapid thumping of your heart, the way you were breathing a little quicker than normal.

“Huh? Oh nothing.”

Damon sighed, rolling his eyes as he looked around before taking your hand in his and leading you alway.

Damon took you up to his room and closed the door, letting you sit on the bed and he rummaged through his clothes and pulled out a sweater, handing it over to you.

You pulled it on and he crouched on front of you, resting his arms on your legs.

“Come on, talk to me? Is it your anxiety?”

You sighed and nodded your head.

“It.. it’s stupid.. I’ve been taking my meds.. I’ve been fine for weeks…” you mumbled.

Damon got up, sitting behind you he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulling you in against his chest.

He took a deep breath, and you did the same.

“It’s okay to have hard days, we can’t be fine forever darling, you know that.”

You sighed and shrugged.

“I just… I hate it so much Damon…”

Damon rested his chin on your shoulder and you titled your head to rest it on his.

“We’ll get you through this don’t you worry.”

Damon laid down and pulled you down with him, holding you tightly against him.

“Can we just stay here..?” You asked softly.

“Whatever you want.” He said.

You flipped yourself over, balling your hands into the fabric of his shirt while you lightly bounced your leg up and down.

Damon debating stopping but, but decided not to, knowing it was something that helped you.

Instead he pressed a kiss to your forehead and tucked your head under his chin as he held you.

He knew your preferred silence when you were trying to calm yourself down, you didn’t want to think about anything.

He just happily laid there with you in his arms, eyes closed as he listened to the sound of your heartbeat and how calm it sounded.

Eventually with the silence and the exhaustion from pretending to be okay around the others and the meds that were supposed to help and from being an the verge of a panic attack.

He just carried on holding you, face buried into the crook of your neck falling asleep with you in his arms.

You woke up before Damon it was still night, and the room was dark but you could still feel Damon’s arms wrapped tightly around you and you smiled.

Nuzzling into him a little more, you leg out a soft sigh and yawned a little stretching out before getting comfortable again and drifting back to sleep.

Damon was like a calm space for you, he was the person who you felt calm around.

For a vampire who was always so energetic or angry, when he was around you all of that went away, he stayed calm to keep you calm and you knew it was hard for him something.

You couldn’t be more thankful for him

[soundlessdreamss]

FR FR YOU SHOULD DO ALASTOR X FEM GANYU READER!!!

Hihihihihi!! Ofc I can write this, I love ganyu sm, she’s actually my Genshin main :3

Alastor x Ganyu!reader

Alastor adored you for who you were, you the only person in the world who made his heart feel a spark that he never felt before. It pained him to see how you were insecure about your weight.

He saw how you didn’t like going out to eat because you didn’t want to gain more weight, or how you declined your favorite food just because you wanted to follow your diet.

He thought you looked just perfect but you thought different. You noticed every flaw in your body and it made you so self aware about what you did, you always thought someone would point out your flaws and make fun of you. (I hc she has body dysmorphia)

He started to become more aware of your extreme diets and he was worried for you because of how dangerous it was for your health. He tried talking you out of these dangerous diets and instead following a healthier diet but you didn’t budge.

He also noticed how your anxiety was very bad, your eyes were always looking at the others hoping they didn’t see the “flaws” you had. When you were completely normal like the rest of them. (Special to Alastor though)

You also had a bad habit of overworking yourself and not taking any breaks which was bad. It messed up your sleep schedule and you barley got any rest majority of the week which is super unhealthy.

As you went down to the first hotel floor you seemed very pale and tired that day. Alastor wanted to confront you about it but before he could your vision became blurry as you were walking down the stairs, which caused you to slip and fall. You didn’t remember what happened after because you passed out.

When you finally woke back up in a white room the first face you saw was Alastors. You had been out for 8 hours now and he was severely worried for you.

Once you woke up he immediately went to your hospital bed and gave you a hug. The doctors that came in the room earlier concluded that it was because you were lacking basic nutrition and not getting enough rest.

Only then did you decide to let Alastor help you with your diets and work schedule since you always overworked yourself so much but yet didn’t take any breaks.

A couple weeks after he helped you with your work schedule and diets you noticed that you still maintained a healthy weight, felt more energized, and better in health overall.

Him helping you with your work schedule was also a major improvement for your health as you finally had more free time for yourself, getting enough rest, and still managing to do your work.

He just wants the best for you and him. (He wouldn’t want to lose another now, would he?)

[mozzarella-stickz]

Lovers Rock: Rodrick Heffley x F! Reader

Author’s Note: Special thanks to @celootaku1 for telling me I should write this :) Hope you enjoy! Sorry it’s like months late though…

Summary: A panic attack in the school cafeteria leads to a chance encounter with none other than Rodrick Heffley.

Warnings: anxiety, panic attacks, probably OOC Rodrick don’t hate me. Otherwise lots of fluff <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were certain this was the worst day of your life.

As soon as you woke up, the impending doom of the day seemed to loom over your head, your brain repeating over and over how bad today was. Your head felt fuzzy and confused, your body shaky and riddled with random jolts of anxiety.

It all came to a climax during lunch time, when the smells, sounds, and godawful fluorescent lights of the cafeteria all become to much for you, and you bolted. You grabbed your lunchbox, excusing yourself from your table, and bolting out to your car in the parking lot. The school was well aware of your condition, and all you had to do was nod and they let you out.

You slammed your door shut, the panic setting in. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out. Your breathing cycled over and over, rounds of seconds of holding and exhaling.

Unbeknownst to you, was the guy sitting in the van parked right next to you. Rodrick Heffley had decided he did not want to go so Spanish that day, instead choosing to take a nap in the back of the van. He was rudely awakened however, by slamming doors and the loud beeping of the car’s lock system.

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

Rodrick climbed to the front of the van, looking at his window at the commotion. He noticed you sitting in your front seat, breathing in and out as tears flowed down your cheeks, smearing your mascara down your face. He felt a little bad now, panic attacks were something he’d dealt with a lot in middle school. He took a deep breath, opening his van door, and knocking on your window gently. You jolted up, and he winced. You took another deep breath in, before rolling your window down.

“H-hi?” you said, voice weak and shaky. You were absolutely confused as to why Rodrick Heffley was knocking on your window, much less doing so in a nice way.

“You okay?” he asked, shuffling a little as he leaned down to your window.

“Not really,” you sniffled, wiping your eyes.

“Do you want to talk?”

“There’s really nothing. I had a panic attack over nothing.”

Awkward silence between you both. Rodrick because he wasn’t quite sure what to say, and you because while you appreciated his concern, you really did not feel like talking at that moment.

“I can go if you want…”

“No!”

Rodrick looked at you, slightly puzzled. It didn’t seem like you wanted him to be there, but your outburst was strange.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to yell, I just…”

“Nah, I get it.”

“You can get in if you want.”

Rodrick opened your car door, sliding into the passenger seat. You leaned your head back into your seat, continuing your breathing slowly and gently.

Rodrick sat, watching you. You were always such a fun-loving person, caring and kind, smiling like nothing was ever wrong.

Your heart started to settle down and your head cleared slightly. You checked your phone, seeing a few texts from your friends asking if you were alright. You smiled, but set it down. You would reply later.

“Thanks for sitting here,” you said, turning towards Rodrick. “I really appreciate the concern.”

“Yeah, anytime. You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just sometimes I wake up with the worst feelings of anxiety for no reason. Today was one of those days. Cafeteria was just too much today.”

“I get it. In middle school, I used to get super anxious all the time. But my way of coping was just to not care, I guess.”

“I wish it was that easy.”

“It was hard, but that’s when I started to drum too. Helped me with the nerves and shit.”

You giggled a little, wiping your eyes. You pulled down your mirror, groaning at the raccoon eyes look you were pulling off right now.

“I’m a mess!”

“Hey, no worries, I have an idea.”

Rodrick bolted, rushing into the front seat of his van for something. After a few minutes of sifting through not done homework and fast food bags, he grabbed a small bag. Sitting back down in the seat, he opened it and pulled out an eyeliner pencil. You cocked your head, looking at him with a “what the fuck” look.

“I wear it for gigs sometimes. I carry it around just in case any pretty girls need it.”

Your heart fluttered at that comment.

“Close your eyes,” he said. You obliged, tilting towards him. He lined it around the top of your eyes, smudging it a little with his fingers.

“Okay, open.”

You did, and then he drew a small line underneath the bottom of the rim of your eye. Taking his pinky, he smudged it, wiping away the flakes of mascara along with it.

“Alright, done.”

You flicked your mirror down, examining his work. You smiled in astonishment, you looked wicked cool and totally smudged on purpose.

“I love it!” You squealed. “I look awesome! Thank you so much!”

“Anytime.”

You sat in silence, examining it. You looked so…not you, and it was so sick. You checked your phone again, seeing it was almost time for lunch to end.

“Crap, I gotta go,” you said, sighing. Instead of pocketing your phone, you handed it to Rodrick in a bold move.

“Can I get your number?” you asked, “Just in case?”

“Huh…oh OH yeah, um of course!”

You giggled again at his shock, handing him your phone as he put his number in. Rodrick handed your phone back, his hands so shaky it was endearing.

“Thanks again, Rodrick. See you soon.”

You exited your car, bolting back inside. Rodrick shut your car, staring at you walking inside. See you soon. His heart fluttered a little, something that hadn’t happened since Heather Hills sat next to him in class several years ago.

Later that evening, Rodrick felt his phone ping in his pocket, picking it up he read a text from your presumed number.

Attachment: 1 image.

He opened it to see a picture of you holding an eyeliner pencil in the makeup section with a smile on your face.

Another text from you that said:

had to get my own since i looked so cool! thanks again <3

His heart fluttered again, this time at an alarming rate. He typed out a response, palms sweaty and hands once again shaking like a leaf in the wind.

of course, pretty girl <3

From the other end of the phone, you felt faint. You set your phone down, letting your brain formulate a response. You typed it down, breathing in and out before sending:

do you want to hang out this weekend?

[httpdwaekki]

breathe | y.j.

summary: when your anxiety does nothing but weigh you down, pulling you under the waves of doubt, jeongin is there to pull you back to him.

wc: 2.1k

warnings: fem!reader, descriptions of anxiety/anxious thoughts, this is based on my experience of anxiety.

a/n: hi!! me again to remind you, the lovely astraystayyh and many other wonderful writers (including myself) are writing requests for anyone that is willing to donate to her fundraiser to help people in gaza! all you have to do is donate (any amount) and send proof to one of the writers along with your request! (please do make sure you read writers rules for requests first! and be aware they have a right to say no to the request.) i hope u enjoy, remember to eat, drink water and take your meds, ily <3

my library

(pictures are not mine! credit to owners!)

you have those days where you feel like you can’t catch your breath. like no matter how hard you try to swim to the surface, waves of dread keep pulling you under. your heart beating a few extra beats a minute, reminding you of the gnawing feeling of anxiety deep in your stomach.

the entire day you felt it. as soon as you woke up it felt like there was a weight on your chest. feeling an impending doom and the worst part? you had no idea why and what was making you feel this way.

jeongin sensed something was wrong. as soon as you woke up, you seemed; different. he couldn’t put his finger on it but he knew something was off. he didn’t ask, he figured if you wanted to talk about it, you’d tell him, as you always had before.

this time was different.

this time, it felt like the anxiety spread through your bones and into every aspect of your life. your work, your friends, and even your relationship. you felt like you were constantly waiting for something bad to happen.

because of this you didn’t want to reach out to jeongin, feeling like a burden. now, you knew, with all your heart, that if you told jeongin something was wrong, especially with your anxiety, he’d drop everything to make you feel better.

but instead, you push it down.

 and as expected, it only got worse, the weight on your chest increasing, only dragging you deeper and deeper. you wanted nothing more than to go home and have your bed swallow you whole.

and that’s exactly what you planned to do until you got home. you set your bag down, kicking off your shoes, making your way into the kitchen. you find jeongin leaning against the counter, snacking on pocky sticks, scrolling through his phone.

he hears you walk in, looking up from the bright screen. “hi noona.” he smiles, slipping the device in his pocket, placing the strawberry snack aside. he opens his arms, prompting you to fall into them. “hi bub.” you mumble into his neck. you feel him place a loving kiss to the side of your head, arms tightening around you.

“we’re gonna leave in about an hour and a half, is that okay?” your eyebrows crease in confusion, pulling away slightly to look at him. “what?” he mirrors your expression. “leave for what?” you ask

“dinner with my members tonight.” he reminds you. a look of understanding washes over your face while dread and exhaustion seep into your bones.

you had completely forgotten chan had invited you both over to hang out and have dinner. jeongin had been so excited about it all week, but in your anxious haze this morning, you had completely forgotten. “ah yeah, okay, that’s okay, just let me shower and get ready.” you smiled, pulling away.

you didn’t get far before you were pulled back into him, you hands landing on his sides to stabilize yourself. “baby, are you okay? we don’t have to go.” he asks, searching your eyes for any sign of hesitance or discomfort.

you shake your head, “i’m okay in-ah, just slipped my mind.” you place a kiss to his cheek before pulling away once more. jeongin was not convinced.

you walked into your bedroom, turning on your lamp, plugging in your phone before sitting on the bed. you felt the weight getting heavier and heavier, taking a deep breath, you lay back for a moment. taking the foxi.ny next to you in your arms, tucked into your chest.

unbeknownst to you, jeongin had followed you, he had a gut feeling. something was wrong and you weren’t telling him. he stayed around the corner, waiting until he heard your low, uneven breaths.

he takes that as his cue and walks into the dimly lit room. he finds the plush fox now pushed into your face, your hands atop it, attempting to hush your cries. what was supposed to be self-soothing ended up breaking the dam you were trying oh-so hard to keep together.

you, oblivious to the ginger boy entering, jump as you feel the bed next to you dip. “baby, what’s going on?” he asks gently, placing his hand next to your thigh. he didn’t want to touch you in case you were overstimulated but he wanted you to know he was there.

however, this just causes a new wave, this time of guilt, the negative emotions mixing together to create a nasty storm you weren’t equipped to deal with. your chest tightens as your cries intensify, unable to breathe.

you roll over towards him, grabbing his hand in the process, bringing it to your chest along with the plushie. this told jeongin he could touch you. he gives your hand a small squeeze before turning to you, placing his hand on your cheek, thumb stroking it softly.

“hey, hey, y/n, you gotta breathe for me baby.” he says urgently, yet his voice was laced with softness. you try to take a deep breath, but you can’t calm down.you shake your head, “i- i can- i can’t.” the guilt and anxiety had an iron grip on you and it doesn’t plan on letting go.

jeongin shifts, facing you, placing your hand to his chest. “yes you can agi, follow my lead, okay?” he takes deep steady breaths, making sure to keep your hand pressed to him. he was sure you could feel his heartbeat as well but he didn’t care, he just needed you to breathe.

after about a minute your breathing becomes less eratate. “there you go, good job, just like that, i got you baby.” he praises, both his thumbs simultaneously rubbing your cheek and hand. you sit up, you finally feel yourself coming back to the surface. your cries soften but never cease.

you lay your head on his shoulder, tears still running down your cheeks, pulling his hand back to you. “i’m sorry.” you cry, shaking your head. ‘i’m so-” he cuts you off. “no, none of that.” he squeezes your hand. “do not apologize, you have nothing to be sorry for.” he says, placing a kiss on your head.

he sat back, pulling you into his lap. you still had the small fox in your hand, curling it back into your chest, melting into him. he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. he places a kiss to the side of your head, rubbing soothing circles on your back as you calm down.

you both sat there for a moment, just enjoying being so close with each other. jeongin eventually pulled back, keeping one hand firm on your hip to keep you steady. the other making it’s way to you soft cheek, stained with tears before he gently wipes them away.

“you gotta tell me what’s going on.” a mixture of dread and guilt washes over you, pulling you back under with ease. you look down, picking at the skin around your nails. he notices and immediately picked your head back up before his hand drops to yours.

“stop that.”

he shakes his head, bringing your hand up to place a gentle kiss to it. “please.” he whispers into your skin. “i want to help but i can’t if you won’t tell me what’s going.” he kisses your hand once more, looking into your teary eyes.

“i just wanna help you baby.” you see pure sincerity and love in his eyes, hurt hidden behind them. you nod your head, “okay.” you take a deep breath, looking up, hoping to calm down enough to speak.

after a few moments he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, “take your time, okay? deep breaths, whenever you’re ready.” you nod, rubbing the soft fabric of the plushie, soothing you enough to be able to communicate .

“i don’t know what triggered it but when i woke up this morning, i just felt like there was a weight on my chest.” you begin to explain, tears still slowly making their way down your cheeks.

“like i’m used to my anxiety, it never truly goes away or stops. but this,” you pause, shaking your head. “this just felt, so much worse.” jeongin listened to every word, rubbing the back of your hand soothingly.

“why didn't you tell me?” he asked gently. “i just felt like a burden, i didn’t want to bother you.” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. 

“ agi,” he gives your hand a shake. “look at me please.” his voice laced, with softness. you slowly look up to him, love and concern mixed a dash of hurt that lingered in his eyes. “you are never a burden to me, you understand?”

you look between his eyes, as if searching for some sort of deceit. but you find none. you nod, tears still streaming down your soft cheeks.

“no matter what is going on, where i am, nothing, you are my priority always.” this time you bring the fox up to your face sobbing into it, diving into jeongin’s chest.

he wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly to him. he pulls you back into his lap, moving your face into his neck. you both stay there for what felt like hours, just basking in each other’s embrace.

suddenly the waves seemed to calm, they never cease, but now you felt like could keep your head above water and breathe. 

he places kisses to your head, hushed whispers of praises and i love yous leave his lips. you relax into his hold, wrapping your arms around him, deep breaths softly brush his skin.

eventually you pull away, leaving the fox plush between the two of you, opting to place both your hands to his cheeks. you thumbs brushing against the apples of his cheeks.

“thank you, i love you so much.” you say sincerely, looking into his boba colored eyes. he leans forward, bringing his lips to yours, bringing a hand to rest upon yours.

he pulls away slightly, resting his forehead to yours “you never have to thank me for them, you’re the love of my life. i’d do anything for you.” you nod, closing your eyes, still overwhelmed by emotions. 

“i feel the same in-ah.” you brush his nose with yours, before capturing his lips once more in a chaste kiss. “come on,” his arms drop to your waist before he pats your thigh. “ let’s get you changed and comfy.” you lean back, arms dropping to his shoulders, looking in his eyes once more. 

“what about dinner?” your head tilts, confused. “we’re not going?” he says, equally as confused. “i already texted chan-hyung, we’re just going to relax for the rest of the night.” he pauses.

“did you really think we would still go over after this?” he asks, shocked. your cheeks warm. suddenly feeling embarrassed, realizing how silly that was. “i guess not, but you were so excited.” you pout, feeling guilt gnawing at you once more.

“we can always have dinner another time. i promise you my members are not going anywhere.” he gives a quiet laugh. “you promise you’re not upset?” you ask, searching his eyes for any trace of dismay, but you only find love and concern.

“not at all baby,” he shakes his head, placing a quick kiss to your cheek before tapping your thigh once more. “now come on, i wanna make my baby cozy.” you giggle before carefully moving off his lap.

“do you wanna take a bath or lay down?” he asks, making his way to your closet. “will you join me in the bath?” you ask following him. he pauses what he’s doing to look at you. “do you want me to join you?” you nod, shy smile making it’s way onto your face.

“then yes i will.” he says, grabbing a comfy change of clothes and towels for the both of you. you both made your way into the ensuite, he places everything on the counter before starting the tub.

you grab the epsom salt and bubble bath bringing it to him, letting him set up the rest of the bath. “is this too hot, baby?” he asks, moving to allow you to feel the water. you shake your head. “it’s perfect bub.” you lean down, sliding your arms around him, placing a kiss on his head.

‘thank you my love,” you lay your head atop his, “i love you so much.” he reaches an arm around you, rubbing your back. “of course, anything for my sweet girl.” he turns his head up, placing a kiss to your chin.

once the bath is filled, you both strip, stepping into the bath, jeongin laying behind you. you both enjoy each other’s presence, wrapped in each others arms, making small talk until the water goes cold. 

once out of the tub, jeongin pulls the plug in the tub before helping you get dressed. you both get dressed before making your way to your shared bed where you spend the rest of the night watching movies, wrapped in each other's embrace.

a/n: yeah i got lost in the sauce again LMAO. anyway hope you enjoyed, please consider donating it's for such a good cause, we've raise $2,000 already! love you guys, drink your water, eat something and take ur meds <3.

do not repost

[stephstars08]

Always Running Away

Peter Pan x Reader

Warning: Adult Language, Mention of Reader’s Mother’s Death, Reader being Abused by Her Father, Mention of Mental and Physical Abuse, Mention of Alcoholism, Anxiety, Angst (Fluff at the End), and Possible Grammar Errors. (Let Me Know if I Forgot Any!!)

Summary: Y/N is the first and only lost girl on Neverland. All the boys think Y/N is only allowed to stay because of the abuse she gets from her father but there is another reason why Peter lets her stay on the island and that reason is why he always runs away from her.

Word Count: 1,501

Author’s Note: FINALLY I HAVE RELEASED A STORY! My first Peter Pan story is finally here, so sorry for the wait! I just recently started getting back into OUAT so that’s why I wanted to write for Peter Pan and I’m getting so many ideas for him so I hope you all enjoy!

Y/N is the first and only lost girl on Neverland. How she got to Neverland she doesn’t know since she just woke up on the island but why she was taken there she does know.

Y/N is a sixteen year old girl but she didn’t have your typical teenage girl life. Her mother died when she was just eight years old. Her mother died by drowning after saving her from drowning.

She took her mother’s death hard but no one took it harder than her father. He started to drink heavily which made him emotional and physically abuse Y/N. He would yell at her by telling her that it’s her fault that he mother is dead and that she’s nothing but a fucking mistake. He’s even told her that it should’ve been her that died instead of her mother.

There would be some nights that her father would get to mad at her that he would slap her so hard it would knock her down onto the floor or knock her into the wall or another piece of furniture breaking it. Then that would make him even more angry and say that it was her fault she broke something. No matter what Y/N did, it wasn’t good enough for her father.

When Y/N woke up on Neverland she was immediately found by a boy named Felix. Of course, Felix knew that Y/N was brought by the shadow. Before Felix could take her to Peter he had already showed up. Peter immediately noticed the bruises on Y/N’s arms and a big bruise on her cheek. After introducing each other Y/N told them everything that she knew. Peter asked about her bruises and she told him. Peter knew that he couldn’t just send her back to her abusive father. She’s been through enough and if he sends her back who knows if what would happen. He could end up killing her.

Peter let her stay and let her become the first lost girl. Everyone and Y/N thought that her background was the only reason why Peter let her stay on the island but Peter had another reason.

********************

Y/N had just came back to camp after her daily morning walk she goes on. She saw Peter and Felix talking so she decided to walk over to them. “Hey guys!” Y/N said to the boys with a kind smile. “Hey Y/N.” Felix said back. “I got to go.” Peter said and walked away from them.

“Okay, why the fuck does he keep doing that!” Y/N said quickly becoming frustrated. Y/N has a good and close relationship with all the boys including Peter but recently every time she approaches him, he walks away from her. “I don’t know.” Felix shrugged. He does know why Peter keeps avoiding her but he knows he’s not the one to tell her.

“Did I do something wrong?” Y/N asked him with sadness in her eyes. “Listen Y/N, this is between you and Pan.” Felix told her. “You’re going to have to go talk to him.” Felix added which earned him a nod from her since she knew he was right.

********************

As the day went on Y/N thought about what she was going to say to Peter. She always gets nervous when she goes to talk to Peter by herself. Y/N knows that she’s starting to develop feelings for Peter which does scare her. She knows how private Peter is. She knows how he closes off certain feelings. Maybe that’s why Peter keeps running away from her. Maybe he knows that she’s growing feelings for him.

Once Y/N knew what she was going to say to Peter she made her way to Peter’s cabin. When she got to Peter’s cabin door she could feel her nerves start to pace and her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest. She really wanted to just run away but she knew she couldn’t so she took a deep and calming breath. Once she felt a little calmer she knocked on the door and waited. She was hoping he was in there.

When the door swung open there stood a surprised Peter. He doesn’t ever expect anyone to come to his cabin. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” Peter asked her. “I need to talk to you.” Y/N told him. “I’m busy.” Peter told her. He went to close the door but Y/N quickly stopped it with her hand. “Please Pan! It’s important.” Y/N told him in pleading tone. Peter let out a heavy sigh. He walked out of his cabin and shut the door.

“What do you need to talk to me about?” Peter asked her. “Do you hate me?” Y/N asked him which took him by surprise. She figured she would just get straight to the point. “Do I hate you? What kind of question is that?” Peter asked her with confusion in his voice. “Just please answer the question.” Y/N told him with a heavy sigh. She’s been having that question floating around her mind for what feels like forever. “No, of course I don’t hate you.” Peter answered her while shaking his head.

“Then why do you avoid me or walk away every time I approach you?” Y/N asked him with frustration in her voice. “It’s like you keep running away from me.” She added. “It’s complicated.” Peter told her looking away from her. “What? What do you mean by it’s complicated?” Y/N asked looking at him with confusion in her eyes. Peter just stayed silent since he didn’t know what to say.

“Do you want me to leave?” Y/N asked him which made him quickly look back at her. “Of course not!” Peter told her in a reassuring tone. “Then what is it? Did I do something wrong to make you run away from me?” Y/N said as her eyes started to fill with tears. Peter let out a sigh. Seeing the tears form in her eyes made him realize that he can’t keep in his secret anymore.

“I’m falling in love with you.” Peter confessed which took Y/N by surprise. “You have feelings for me?” Y/N asked in complete shock. Peter just gave her a nod. “I have feelings for you, too.” Y/N confessed to him. “You shouldn’t.” Peter told her. “What do you mean?” Y/N asked him. “Because I’m a fucking mess, Y/N.” Peter told her with a mixture of anger and frustration in his voice.

“I don’t know how to love. I just know how to cause pain to people. I hurt every person that gets close to me.” Peter told her which made her heart ache. “I can show you how to love.” Y/N told him. She went to put her hand onto his cheek but he took a step back from her.

“No.” Peter started. “You can’t. No one can.” Peter told her. He turned away from her and walked away leaving her all by herself.

********************

As days went by Y/N was now the one running away from Peter. Peter feels awful for what he said and every time he goes to apologize she walks away from him.

The lost boys were hanging out together around the camp fire. Peter was sitting by the campfire on a log. He looked over at Y/N who was sitting on a log all by herself away from everyone. Peter stood up and walked over to her.

“Y/N, can I talk to you?” Peter asked her. “No.” Y/N answered without looking at him. She just stared down at the ground. “Please Y/N, it’s really important.” Peter said to her in pleading tone. When Y/N looked up at him she saw the pleading look in his green eyes. Y/N let out a heavy sigh in defeat. “Fine.” Y/N told him standing up from her seat on the log.

Y/N followed Peter in the woods so they were alone. “I want to take you up on your offer.” Peter told her which made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. “You do?” Y/N asked him in a soft tone. “My whole goal was to not hurt you but I obviously fucked that up by ignoring you.” Peter told her. Peter took both of her hands into his and gave them a light squeeze. “I want to be with you. I want you to teach me how to love.” Peter told her as his green eyes stared into her Y/E/C eyes. “Are you sure?” Y/N asked him. She doesn’t want to pressure him into doing something he’s not comfortable with. “Does this answer your question?” Peter started.

Before Y/N could say anything Peter connected his lips with hers. Y/N immediately melted into the kiss. She’s dreamed of this moment for so long that she couldn’t believe that it was actually happening. When they released from the kiss they had to catch their breaths.

“Pan-“ Y/N started to say but he cut her off. “Please, call me Peter.” Peter told her and reconnected his lips with hers.

[munsonsmixtapes]

My hurt/comfort request:

Reader and eddie somehow survived the upside down together, despite spending time in the hospital afterward for a good few weeks. Now it's well after all that hell, but reader isn't doing well mentally. They keep pushing Eddie away, indulge in drinking far too much, and rely on pills to feel numb. But the PTSD is strong, and nightmares won't go away. Sleep is a luxury now.

One night reader risks calling Eddie while drinking, only to hang up after a few words feeling like it was a mistake. Eddie doesn't take it lightly and comes over to find reader on the floor with a bottle of alcohol, crying and shaking from their last nightmare. Comfort ensues.

Feel free to change anything if you write this!! I know it's a pretty heavy prompt but I rarely see people explore the PTSD side of things with these characters. We forget how much hell the show actually portrayed. (Apologies for the long request lol)

Thanks so much for the request, lovely! This is exactly what I was looking for!

cw: mention of PTSD, reader’s deteriorating mental heath, and abuse of both alcohol and medication, hurt/comfort

You didn’t know how you did it, but after being dragged through hell and back, you had barely escaped death in the Upside Down. Both you and your boyfriend Eddie had been experienced the most unimaginable injuries, seeking immediate help at the hospital even though you knew that they wouldn’t believe how you had gotten hurt so badly.

Both of you had spent weeks there, racking up outrages bills as you were nursed back to health. Eddie had been worse than you, though, having to be on life support, but you were definitely suffering more mentally. Even though you had escaped the Upside Down physically, you hadn’t been able to in your mind.

All of the horrific, traumatic images replayed in your head on a torturous loop that you hadn’t been able to shake. It was as if you had never left even after months of being back in the real world. You couldn’t think of anything else. Especially when it was time to go to bed. Even falling asleep next to Eddie didn’t help. You still somehow always woke up screaming.

Eddie did his best, but it was so hard to watch you fall apart right before him. The person that he loved the most was in absolute shambles and you wouldn’t let him help you. You just insisted that you were fine and told him to leave it alone whenever he suggested alternatives to your unhealthy coping mechanisms.

Instead of seeking therapy like you probably should have, you resorted to the pills you had been prescribed for your anxiety and alcohol to numb your pain. If you weren’t drinking, you were popping pills after pill, and when you were really desperate, you’d combine them, even though it said very clearly on the bottle not to mix them with alcohol.

Over time, you favored your new obsessions over your own boyfriend. You found yourself pushing him away, not wanting to hear his judgement, even though you knew very well that he’d never judge you. He just cared for you in a way no one else did and it made him sick to sit by and watch you self-sabotage.

You sat on the floor of your bathroom, surrounded by empty beer bottles, your phone right in front of you, practically begging you to call your boyfriend who you hadn’t spoken to in weeks. And it wasn’t because you didn’t want to. It was because you couldn’t. You had convinced yourself that he had been upset with you and you just didn’t want to hear it.

But you did want to hear his voice. It was one of the only things that brought you instant comfort, never failing to make all your worries fade away. You knew he would have picked up if you called so you didn’t know why you were so nervous.

You picked up the phone and used the rotary to dial his number, surprised you could do it with how drunk you were. It rang once before your picked up, Eddie’s lovely voice ringing through the phone.

“Y/n?” He asked, breathless, like he had been holding it for too long.

“Eddie,” you cried, feeling tears welling up in your eyes, desperately wishing he would hold you in his arms. You knew he would if you just asked. Why couldn’t you ask?

“Y/n, oh my god. It’s so good to hear your voice, honey. What’s wrong?”

“The nightmares-” you cut yourself off, terrified to tell him what they were really about. You felt like talking about them would make them even worse.

“What about them? Have they gotten worse?” Eddie could always somehow read your mind. Maybe that was why you worked so well together. If you were even together anymore. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he would have broken up with you because of you pushing him away. You thought you deserved it.

You didn’t know why, but you pulled the phone away from your ear and put it back on top of the rotary, scooting away from it once it rang again. You knew it was Eddie and you didn’t want to talk to him anymore. Calling him was a mistake.

You curled up and buried your face into your knees, letting out soft sobs as the nightmares flashed in your head. They were always the same. Always a reminder of the trauma you had gone through. You in Vecna’s clutches, so close to death until you found yourself in Eddie’s arms, him cradling your almost lifeless bodies in his hands, letting out wail and wail as he begged for you to come back.

You cracked open another beer and shotgunned it, before laying on the cold, hard tile, left alone with nothing but your thoughts. Nothing could fix it, nothing could save you. You were just hopeless.

The bathroom door bursted open and you sat up, startled by the sudden noise. There, in the doorway was your boyfriend Eddie, a duffle bag in his hand. He let it fall to the floor and headed toward you before dropping to the tile and pulling you into his lap.

You wrapped your arms around him and buried your face into his neck, sobbing into it while he ran his hands up and down your back as a way to comfort you. He was always so good at it.

“I’m sorry I hung up on you,” you told him when you had run out of tears. He just shook his head and brought his hands up to your face, stroking your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

“You have nothing to apologize for. You’ve been going through things that people couldn’t even imagine.” Eddie knew how much you were struggling and it broke his heart that you were blaming yourself for doing what you needed to do to heal.

“But I pushed you away.” Your eyebrows furrowed and you suddenly felt silly for thinking that Eddie would have been mad at you. He couldn’t have been mad at you if he tried.

“You needed your space. I’ll always wait for you, you know that.” You did know that. He had told you those exact words time and time again, especially in the past few months, when you had been going through your darkest times.

“I-I thought you were going to break up with me.” Tears started welling up in your eyes again and Eddie was quick to wipe away the ones that fell.

“Why would I do that? I love you. Nothing could make me want to leave you. You know that, right?” Sometimes he was concerned by how much he loved you. That he would defend you even when he knew you were wrong. He was always just so desperate to be on your side.

“I do now,” you nodded then looked around at all of the empty bottles that surrounded you. You couldn’t believe that you had consumed all of that alcohol in such a short amount of time. Maybe it was time to quit and get some help. You owed that to yourself after all you had gone through. “I-I think I want to go to therapy. I’m sick of feeling this way, so empty and hollow.”

“Honey,” he pulled you into a hug before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m so proud of you.”

“You are?”

“Always,” he nodded. “Not everyone can see that they need to make changes in their life and you did. Even if it took you a minute to get there.”

“You’ll help me?” You asked, twirling a strand of his hair around your pointer finger.

“Don’t I always,” he chuckled. “Now c’mon. Let’s get you some water and then head to bed. I feel like you could really use some sleep.”

Eddie helped you up from the floor and carried you to the kitchen to get some much needed water. You looked up at him as he took you down the stairs, wondering how you had gotten so lucky as to have someone like him that was so caring and willing to help you even when you had treated him like absolute shit. You never thought that you had deserved him, but maybe after getting some help, you’d be able to work on that and realize that you really did deserve to have him in your life.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Moon~

(Some pretty upsetting stuff happened to me, and like always, when I am down, I gotta write those emotions out so I don't have writer's block. This is sad and ouchie, yet let me know if you want Husk’s side of the story or even a happy ending. Thank you to those who support me and my writing)

Tw: verbal abuse, rage, depression, anxiety, poor life choices, unresolved issues

The day you two met was still ingrained in your memory like yesterday. You were being chased by mob bosses on the streets. The moon's glow guided you as you thought about seeking refuge in that glitzy Casino; fingers crossed, you would be lost in the sea of noise and flashing lights. Though your wish came true and you managed to avoid the boss, Scott free, you never expected to land face-to-face with the man you had.

He had a beautiful black and white tuxedo fit, a half-buttoned dress shirt with an excellent-fitting pinstripe jacket, and a cigar hanging from his mouth. Looking up at him, you know fear was the feeling that should be coursing through you, yet what you felt was unadulterated lust and desire. He was your aphrodisiac; nothing else would compare.

He took a special interest in you, too. Not every day does someone bring danger into the feared Casino Overlord's home, let alone look him dead in the eye the way you did. Originally, it was just a job, a simple work experience to help keep you out of trouble. That changed all too soon, though.

Gifts appeared at your hotel room door, from lovely outfits to perfumes and even jewelry. He tried to woo you, but you had already fallen for him. Eventually, your job at the bar turned into sitting on his lap at the card table. You would relax him when he lost and congratulate him when he won. One excellent win resulted in him bedding you, claiming you as his. One soul contract later, and you were his and his alone.

To go back in time and alter reality would be a miracle; that isn’t life, though. Instead, your life here was a moment of looking up at the moon from a new location that was no longer the Casino.

You and Husk got in your fights; everyone did. Yet Husk, when he was drunk, was temperamental; he was angry and hated losing. No amount of sex, cuddles, or kisses could fix it. What went from gifts and showers of affection turned into arguments and cold nights of sleeping alone. He would never raise a hand to you, but raising his voice became a new constant as his power in the scene of the Overlords faltered.

Years of arguments and false promises about things getting better and you two overcoming anything opened you both up to weakness… Then they came in—the young upstart overlords Vox and Alastor, ready to gamble with the big cat on day one. The two were charming, and charisma ebbed off of them in waves.

You did your due diligence at your job that damned night, smiling, flirting, anything to knock them off their game. If Husk beat the up-and-coming stars of hell, maybe he would feel better than he had been. You were wrong, though, because he didn’t win, and neither did you.

A deal was struck. The man you loved and grew to care for, even through the fighting and long cold nights, sold you off. In one game, your new soul owner was Vox. It was a blur—there was yelling, chains breaking and forming, and you being taken away.

When you woke the next day, you were in a small penthouse of Vox’s. You were his ‘lover’ now, as he put it. Husk had sold you off. Tears streamed down your face as you realized the love you harbored for him was not the same love he harbored for you.

Vox was kind to you; he cared for and treated you like royalty. When his fallout with Alastor happened not too long after, you two only had each other to pick up the pieces; you wouldn’t say the relationship that formed between you two was out of desire or want; it was a necessity to stay alive.

You two may sleep together and pretend in front of cameras, but at night, you both think of who you once loved. The people who hurt you both in intricate and damning ways. The people who strengthened your bonds together to the point that you two found the most comfort in one another.

You were always on the sidelines when the Vees came around and got big. The connection you and Vox had made you off limits to the other two Vee’s. He didn’t want you whored out; He didn’t want you as a model; he wanted you to find happiness like he was searching for.

Yet every night, you two lie on opposite sides of the bed, looking out the grand window and remembering your happiness left a long time ago. Your’s when Husk sold you off like a pawn, and Vox when Alastor became too good for him. Both of you have deep, untreated wounds. Vox grew angrier as years turned to decades, yet he never raised his voice at you. He knew of the life you lived prior to him taking on your soul. As for you the pain over the decades just turned to more profound loathing and sadness for you.

You loved Husk, you still did, and on nights when Vox would go out with the Vees or consummate their relationship, you would find yourself sitting outside on the balcony of Vox’s penthouse, staring at the moon. Sometimes, you wonder, ‘Does he see the same moon as I do?’ ‘Does he miss me like I miss him?’

Your questions were sadly answered one day, much to your dismay. You were opting to witness the downfall of Alastor with Vox on the day of the extermination, and that’s when you saw him. Not only did Alastor not die, and the hotel stood tall once more, but Husk was one of Alastor’s souls…making those same eyes he once made for you at a spider demon.

Vox noticed your change in mood and quickly calmed his destructive rage to help you, but it was too late. You saw it all right there on his 4 K screen. You were replaced, unloved, and not wanted. You were only ever a pawn to try and keep power for as long as he could, until Alastor had his soul, and then Alastor dropped Vox.

Swallowing the tears, you excused yourself to the room and went straight to the balcony. Looking on the horizon, you could see the Hazbin Hotel, where Husk was probably smitten with the spider demon. Choked, pained sobs left your frame as you screamed at the moon like it was all its fault for leading you to that casino when you were running from the mob bosses.

When Vox found you, it was a sorry sight. You were curled up on the balcony in a ball, silent sobs wracking your body. Vox explained that the spider was one of Val’s souls, that he knew Husk was Alastor’s soul, but that since he had your soul, Alastor would never let you near. You laughed sadly; Vox wasn’t wrong. The minute that word got out that Alastor stole an overlord's soul, he dropped Vox. You never imagined the soul would be Husk’s.

Vox helped pick you up and leaned you against his chest as you two looked up at the moon, “Hey, Vox, do you think they are looking at the same moon?”

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Devilish

A scare during the witching hour turns into something more pleasant than you thought it would.

Character; Trey Clover

Content; Gender-neutral reader, some fear but ends in fluff

Content Warning; Fear/anxiety, swearing

Word Count; 1.6 K

Author's Note; This is for @jade-s-nymph's TWSTober collab! I had a lot of fun writing this, plus this is my first fic/serious work featuring Trey ^v^ Please make sure you support the other writers and artists in this collab as well; and remember to reblog works that you enjoyed!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

You woke up, a bit in a daze since you were just deep asleep, but the groggy daze of ‘Why am I awake… nevermind, I’m going back to bed’ quickly left your mind as a strong, acrid, smell filled the air; the smell of something burning. That grogginess quickly morphed into a slowly building and intensifying anxiety, but none of the smoke alarms were going off… you still got up though and turned on all the lights; you wouldn’t be able to rest easy until you found the source of the smell.

Room by room, you turned on the lights, and thankfully you didn’t find anything ablaze. Thinking about it, you didn’t even have anything on that could theoretically start a fire… better safe than sorry.

I mean, like, who wouldn’t wake up and not be freaked out? My brain is practically running around in circles and screaming FIRE! FIRE! FIRE! You thought to yourself, rubbing your eyes. You also knew full well that you wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep after this, the anxious part of your brain making sure that you stayed awake until you either found the source of the smell, or it went away.

You ended your quest of trying to find the smell in the kitchen, but there was no sign of smoke or the ‘fire’ that your brain imagined engulfing all of your earthly possessions. Yet, you didn’t feel relieved, instead, you hunched over your counter and started scrolling through your phone, looking for answers.

‘what smells like burning rubber’ 

You got everything from phantom smells caused by hallucinations, to electrical fires, to skunk. You let out a sigh and massaged your temples. Yeah, I should have seen that coming. Go looking for answers and instead, I have more questions than I began with. 

“Lovely,” you sighed, straightening yourself back up and looking up at the ceiling, “just lovely.”

It was honestly no use trying to go back to sleep now, since you were fully awake. Glancing at the clock, you groaned again; it wasn’t even four in the morning; what kind of sick joke was that? 

You gave your clock the stink eye but started your journey back to your bed, maybe you could start reading that book you’ve been meaning to get into… or you could just scroll mindlessly through social media while nice and comfy under your blankets. But right as you reached the threshold of your room, three knocks sounded out.

You paused and listened. Knock, knock, knock. There they were again, but they weren’t coming from the front door, no. You were half tempted to pull the blinds back from the window, but if there was some creep knocking on your window in the dead of night, you would rather not come across them. So yet again, you went through your place, triple-checking that all the locks were secure. First a fire scare, and now this? Today wasn’t going great, was it?

All of the locks checked out though, everything was good.

Knock. Knock. KNOCK.

A third round of knocking, but this time it was louder, more insistent. And the burning smell was back, and you could taste it from how strong it was. It commanded all of your attention and wasn’t going to be ignored… it was consuming, hungry almost. 

You were back in the kitchen, and thankfully(?) there was no more knocking, it seemed like three sets of three and it was done, but the smell, the smell. It was oppressive, and you started coughing, but despite the all-consuming smell of fire and burning, there was no smoke anywhere to be found; with the smell this thick, you would have been able to feel it. 

You went ahead to turn on the light, but despite you flipping the switch up and down multiple times, the light stayed off. And the rest of the lights just shut off suddenly on your final flip of the light switch, plunging you into darkness, engulfing you in darkness and the smell of burning.

FUCK! You fumbled around for your phone, trying to get the flashlight on.

Knock, knock, knock. The knocking was back, and it was slower and louder than before.

Finally, your phone’s flashlight turned on, and from the darkness, a pair of glowing yellow eyes stared at you, unblinking and looking into you, as if trying to see your very being.

And you? You just stood there, frozen, barely even breathing, since hey THERE WERE GLOWING EYES IN YOUR HOUSE STARING AT YOU? HELLO?! WHAT?!

You tried to move, to even open your mouth so you could make some attempt to either scream in horror, or hiss obscenities at whatever was in your kitchen, but you were frozen. And as you stared back into the glowing eyes, they were getting closer, and changing from a startling, eerie glowing gold, to something more dull and warm; a warm hazel. Despite this change from unnatural to something more human, they still pried into your consciousness, as if looking for something.

Soon, the former-glowing-eyed thing that was lurking in the dark corners of your kitchen stepped into the weak light of your flashlight. By the time he — yes, he — had stepped into the weak cold light, his eyes had stopped glowing. But the smell, the acrid smell of something burning, was stronger than ever, and it was coming from him. Yet, he looked like a polite neighbour who would offer you some sugar if you ran out, but you knew that wasn’t what he was.

He cleared his throat, and fixed his glasses, still keeping eye contact with you which you couldn’t escape. “You summoned me?”

You blinked in surprise at the question. It was out of pocket, but this entire situation was entirely ludicrous when you really thought about it. But the green-haired man just blinked back at you, as if he was just as confused at the current situation as you were. It was almost comical in a sense.

Finally, whatever spell you were under, lifted. “No,” you said, still gauging what he was since human was only the form he was taking on. “No, I really didn’t.” 

He offered you a polite smile, which was unnerving as it was charming; and if you were in a completely different situation, it would have you feeling at ease. The hairs on the back of your neck stood at end though, and your brain screamed DANGER! DANGER! RUN AWAY!

“You did though,” he chuckled softly, scratching the back of his neck. “Don’t you remember? At the bakery?”

The bakery? … all you had gotten at the bakery was some sugar, flour, and some lemon squares. And you would have remembered him if you saw him at the bakery; since green hair wasn’t natural, yet it looked like it was for him.

You shook your head, “All I got was some supplies and lemon bars. I didn’t ‘summon’ you. And what do you mean by ‘summon’? Who are you? What are you? How did you even get in my house?”

He pursed his lips and looked at you pensively. “Must have been a mix-up then… you don’t seem like the type to summon…” He let out a deep sigh, and adjusted his glasses — apparently, both of you were not happy with your current situations. Also, you didn’t know if you should have been offended or not at that statement. “Can I see what you got?”

You nodded, bringing out the flour and sugar, which, judging by his lack of reaction other than saying, “That’s a good deal for that,” was not the reason why he just spawned in your house. But then you showed him the half-eaten container of lemon bars, with three still left over.

“Ah, looks like there was a mix-up,” he chuckled. He turned back to you, with your citrus confectionaries in hand. “These are demon bars, not lemon bars. Eating them summons, well, a demon.”

A demon… A DEMON?! You balked at him, looking from the traitorous sweets to his bashful smile. And no wonder they tasted devilishly sweet… You knew it was bad going shopping on an empty stomach, and now you were dealing with the consequences.

“No offence, but uhhhh, how do I… send you back?” You were going to say ‘get rid of you’ but you didn’t want to offend the guy; he seemed polite enough, but you also didn’t want to test your luck either. “And what do I call you? Since I don’t want to just call you ‘demon’?”

The demon brought his hand to his chin and looked at you. 

Man, his eyes are pretty when they aren’t glowing in the dark— WHAT AM I THINKING?! GET A GRIP OF YOURSELF! You dug your fingernails into your palm to stop your wandering, and sleep-deprived, thoughts from skipping merely down a rose-tinted road.

He looked at the ‘lemon’ bars (apparently it wasn’t just a fancy cursive L then) and looked back up to you. “Trey, you can call me Trey.” 

Like a serving tray? Or three in Spanish?

“As for sending me back? Well, you didn’t know they were actually contracts, so I think if we make three more of those bars you should be good.” He nodded at the end.

Your night had taken multiple turns; from you thinking your house was aflame, to being scared half to death by Trey in your kitchen, to now making demonic-infused lemon bars in your kitchen at four in the morning… at least you made it out with your soul intact with the whole experience only costing you some ingredients, which you could always get more of… and maybe you even made a friend in the process?

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Tags; @afunkyfreshblog, @azulashengrottospiano, @eynnwwyjth, @ithseem, @krenenbaker, @lucid-stories, @savanaclaw1996, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

[onestepbackwards]

Love That Bites Pt. 6

Hello! Welcome to the next installment of my Dracula x Belmont!Reader series! It’s been a while, but its finally here! Reading so many kind comments really helped me push through writing this 💚

It took forever to get this finished. My health has not been doing well with how the weather has been flip flopping the past few weeks. Going from a drought, to rain and heat on and off was not good for me. The rains backed off a bit, so now its just the humid heat i have to deal with ^-^’

I hope you guys enjoy though! To makeup for it, I made this chapter over 6000 words! If you wish to officially be on the tag list, please let me know!

Summary: After waking up and making a chilling discovery, you make the decision to head back home. You try to get into a routine of things, but slowly, you feel as if your life is crumbling apart. For some reason, your only solace seems to be Dracula’s statue and his castle. Dracula meanwhile observes as you seem to be growing worse for wear, a gnawing feeling of dread growing in his gut with each visit.

CW: Toxic and abusive family, mentions of repeating illness, anxiety, mentions of injury, nihilistic thinking.

Word Count: 6196 Words!

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Tag List: @starrlo0ver

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-

You weren’t entirely sure when you began to regain consciousness.

All you really knew was how stiff your body had become, and how tired you still were.

That wasn’t completely it, either. You may still have been tired, but for once in your life? You felt rested.

It had been years since you felt like you had gotten any decent sleep. The fact you actually felt rested, even after the odd dreams you had, was quite the achievement.

Speaking of dreams, you tried desperately to cling to what you remembered as you began to wake.

You didn’t remember much, like what you saw. All you could really remember was what you felt.

A strange warmth, and the feeling of being held. Like someone holding you gently, but unwilling to let go. A warmth you so desperately craved to crawl back to.

Faintly, you could also remember a voice. However, you couldn’t remember what was said. All you could make out was that the person, a man, was trying to get your attention.

It was odd. The more you tried to pay attention, the farther the voice seemed to get. At that moment, it was like everything was slipping through your fingers like water.

You wanted more, but alas, you found yourself waking up against your will.

The carpet was the first thing you noticed, besides how stiff you were. It was fluffy under your touch, and still somehow comfortable. Your fingers curled into the light fuzz as you slowly woke.

Face scrunching up, you let out a groan as a flash of light blipped behind your eyelids, followed by a low rumble of thunder.

Rain? Where were you again?

Mentally, you went through everything in your head, when you suddenly remembered exactly where you were.

You almost sat up when your heart rate spiked, but calmed down as you blinked your eyes open.

Considering you were still alive, and still on the carpet in the main hall, you were most likely fine.

“Ugh… how long was I out…?” You mumbled, and pushed yourself up, trying to blink the fog away in your vision.

“Still, that was one of the best naps I’ve had in- HOLY-“

You couldn’t help but shriek as you scrambled back, falling right back on your ass as you scurried away from the statue.

Said statue had moved.

Dracula no longer had been reaching towards the middle of the room.

Instead, he had been reaching out towards you.

His head had been tilted downward towards you as well. The vampire’s head was looking in your direction, facing the ground where you had been laying.

“What the fuck.” You whispered, your heart hammering in your chest. It was as if you couldn’t move, could hardly breath-

How? How had he moved?

Standing up in a mild panic, you made sure to keep your distance as you eyed the statue warily.

Curious, and a bit frightened, you circled the statue, noting the differences while your hand hovered above your whip.

After examining him for a few minutes, you hesitantly relaxed a bit.

It seemed whatever had happened, Dracula was still cursed. He just somehow managed to move slightly while you were sleeping.

That was a thought that sent chills down your spine.

Still, he hadn’t moved since you woke up, so that was a plus.

It was still incredibly freaky though.

Gathering your courage, you inched a little closer to the statue, and got a better look at his face.

It wasn’t such an angry snarl anymore, more like a look of… desperation? You weren’t entirely sure what to call it.

Thankfully, it at least didn’t look angry. You think.

There was also his hand, it was still outstretched, but…

The hand wasn’t tense, with his claws outstretched. It looked more like he was simply reaching toward you.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say his body language suggested he wasn’t trying to attack you in your sleep.

Then again… you could be reading too much into it.

Regardless, you couldn’t stop the inkling thoughts that pressed in the back of your mind. As a hunter, you had to be observant, more so than the average person.

Which meant learning body language.

And this just screamed lack of aggression. Interest, but no signs of anger. Not like before.

It… unnerved you. Something that should have at least been a relief, made you incredibly wary.

Why?

Why would he move now? What did you do for him to suddenly do so? Could he move this whole time?

This at least more or less (hopefully) confirmed one thing. He had to be somewhat aware of his surroundings.

You had no idea to what extent he was aware of, but he had to at least be able to see you, given he had been reaching for your sleeping form.

That did raise another question. If he could see, could he hear? Could he feel things through the stone? Could he taste? Smell?

It brought about several questions, and only offered educated guesses at best.

Heaving your chest with a sigh, you pressed a hand against your face, trying to think.

“What am I going to do…?”

At least, a small part of you was somewhat comforted. Chances were, he probably could feel things, not just see things.

If you had attacked him, he would have been forced to watch, and feel as you tried to kill him.

Oh, if that thought didn’t make you feel a little nauseous-

If you had really struck down the statue, he very well could have been hurt, and had been aware and felt it.

Sure, you knew it was a possibility, but actually confronting that thought now that you knew he was somewhat alive? It made your palms feel clammy.

“So… you are alive… I’m… not crazy.” You mumbled at the statue. His face was still turned downward, but if this was true, he was hearing your every word.

Carefully, you lowered yourself to your knees, and looked at his face once more.

He… looked so… intense? Desperate?

You wouldn’t say that outloud, but it also felt odd to refer to him as such. The King of the Night, looking so determined while reaching for you.

Without thinking, you found yourself reaching forward to cup his face. Before you could even make contact, you froze, before pulling your hand away.

No. Bad idea. Why would you do that.

Last thing you needed was showing any affection and getting attached.

That was like a number one rule. Never get attached until you know damn sure whatever you want to get close to won’t hurt you.

With another sigh, you rubbed your temples.

What would you do now? Leave?

It wasn’t like you really had a choice. You had been here for who knows how long, and no doubt you’d have to deal with a pissed off step father the longer you stayed.

But could you just leave him here like this?

You wanted to curse. This was the same damn dilemma you had been dealing with ever since you first saw this stupid castle. You were getting tired of fighting yourself in your head over all of this.

Reluctantly, you stood up, catching yourself as you wobbled a bit on your feet.

“Seems I still have a lot of resting to do…” you mumbled as your vision spun just slightly.

Yeah, you were definitely still a little sick, but you were feeling leagues better than you were a few days ago.

“I… I gotta get home soon.” You muttered, holding your head in one of your hands.

Silently, you looked over at the statue again before turning to leave.

“I’ll… I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

It was weird. Everything was weird. Now that the statue seemingly was noticeably alive, you felt different on how to approach and act around it.

Though maybe you shouldn’t act different?

More and more thoughts swam in your head as you groaned. No, you did not need to do more mental gymnastics.

Carefully, you began to leave the throne room, noting how heavy the atmosphere had become. Depressing? Frustrated? You couldn’t place it, but you certainly related to the feeling.

You didn’t notice the eyes barely managing to tun upward to watch you leave.

As you made your slow descent through the castle, you fought back an ever growing headache as you thought about your situation.

Something that was becoming more common than you’d like to admit.

If Dracula really was somewhat alive, you couldn’t help but sympathize for the guy. It had been a few decades since he had been sealed, around 20 something years.

No doubt he was going mad. You were probably the most interesting thing he has seen in the past decade or two.

Even if you were his enemy.

But… were you? Now that you had not attacked him? He sure didn’t seem like he was trying to attack you in your sleep.

“Ugh. I need another nap.” You mumbled as you walked out of the castle and towards your cabin.

You had a lot of catching up to do.

-

The day after you had gone back to your cabin, you decided to return back home. You dreaded doing so, but unfortunately you had very little choice in the matter.

The messages you received from your ‘family’ were, as usual, annoying and endless. It was only a matter of time before they started destroying your things again for staying away too long.

Thankfully, the stars were shining on you today, as no one was home when you returned. It was easy to sneak a bit of food and hide away in your room.

You wish you could say that they ignore you as usual after they all realized you were back.

Alas, things never seem to go your way.

Your step father had gotten somewhat physical with you again after he arrived home, your two step brothers watching from the doorway.

He had yelled, even gripping your hair and throwing you hard. You hit the edge of the bed frame, but thankfully had dealt with worse.

Though you’d admit, the concussion you had gotten from it was already a pain in the ass.

He wasn’t finished though, and made sure to yell at you some more. At that point though, you simply just let his angry words flow in one ear and out the other.

It ended with a sharp kick to your ribs, which genuinely took you off guard. Your step father never took it this far before outside of ‘training’, and he wasn’t holding back.

Thankfully, he seemed fed up enough with your presence to leave you be. He shoved past his sons, slamming the door behind him as you gasped for air.

You had managed to crawl to your drawers, and take care of the wound on your head. You also decided to count yourself lucky he didn’t seem to break your ribs, just bruise them.

After the pain subsided, you crawled onto your bed, shaking as you thought about everything.

What was your life turning into? Did your step father really not care about crossing that line? It certainly seemed so.

You weren’t looking forward to the future, if this is what was promised.

-

Unfortunately, your fears were turning out to be true when it came to your home life.

Your ‘sweet loving family’ were growing more and more violent, toeing that line with how far they can get away with their behavior until you snapped.

But you couldn’t.

The moment you fought back, was all the excuse they needed to kick you out, and take everything you owned. Everything that was rightfully yours, would fall right into their hands.

The perfect excuse to anyone related to you by blood why the family artifacts were no longer theirs.

Your legacy, your mother’s things, your family’s artifacts… all gone, to someone not even in the family by blood. That alone was dangerous, some artifacts only resonated kindly with your family’s blood.

Hell, your whip was one of those very artifacts. Its one reason you never parted from it, making sure they never had the chance to swipe it from under your nose.

Not to mention the weapons and powerful tomes hidden in the family vault. In the wrong hands? Your step family could rival vampire lords with how dangerous they could become.

What a nuisance.

You knew they would take advantage of it too. It’s the whole reason they were trying to get you to attack them, or ‘give’ them everything by your own free will.

They wanted everything. The power, the artifacts, the riches… they wanted all they could get their hands on. All while looking completely innocent so they’d have an excuse if anyone inquired about it

And it seemed they were willing to raise the stakes to get it.

Despite your step father seemingly growing more physical, he still seemed to prefer to hover and threaten you, rather than just straight up brawl with you.

He seemed irritated. Impatient. He was cracking, but still trying to remain in control.

It made you fear what reaching his breaking point would be. What would finally break the dam that was slowly showing its cracks?

At least when he tried to hurt you, it was brief. Like a warning and a threat.

It wasn’t as… rough as that first night you came back, either. More like purposeful shoves, the occasional hit to your back or stomach. Sometimes your arms. He never hit you again after an initial assault, but the threat was very much there.

If he didn’t hit you, he would slam tables and walls next to you. Slam doors in your face, toss chairs. He even threw some old plates, ruining a set your great grandmother had passed down.

That had been a rough night for you, realizing they were willing to destroy stuff from your family without thought.

Then there were the bouts of sickness you were experiencing.

Just like when you had been at the cabin, you were constantly falling ill.

It was random when it would happen, and the severity of each bout of sickness seemed to vary, but it was beginning to drive you insane.

Sometimes you would just get extreme migraines. Other times you were stuck in the bathroom for days nearly unable to move.

If it was a rough week, you were then banished to the car. No one in the house wanted to catch whatever was making you so violently ill, if by chance it was contagious.

Occasionally one of your brothers would take pity, and toss you some bread or a bottle of water and some gas station medicine. Most of the time though, you were on your own, trying not to puke your guts out for days on end.

It was beginning to affect your overall health. How could you go back to being in a healthy state of being if you were getting sick right after feeling better? How would you be able to keep up being a hunter if you were becoming a liability?

You were beginning to wonder if you were shutting down. The thought made you fear for yourself often when alone with your thoughts.

It was beginning to remind you of your mother, how she had fallen ill…

This made you miserable.

More than once, you ended up silently crying into your pillow in your room. You hadn’t cried in so long, but now it was hard not to after dealing with so much shit.

The one saving grace you had was your laptop, and sneaking away to visit the cabin.

Watching the castle on your cameras late at night brought you solitude, it helped calm your mind when you were overwhelmed. Even if it was just scrubbing through hours of nothing, just watching the castle seemed to put you at an odd sort of ease.

If you weren’t terrified of your step brothers or step father destroying the laptop, or finding out about the castle, you’d probably even use it as white noise to sleep when at home.

An idea you would have laughed at if you told yourself a year earlier.

You? Enjoying the ambience outside Dracula’s castle? You would have attacked whoever told you so, thinking they were trying to mess with your mind.

Now though, it was an odd comfort.

When you did sneak off to the cabin, you would leave the laptop on to listen. The oddly quiet atmosphere with the occasional clap of thunder had you sleeping in minutes.

Something most hunters would scoff at. Most can’t sleep through thunder and lightning, but the atmosphere had put you at ease.

It should bug you how much you were growing comfortable with the Master of the Night and his ominous abode.

But you were beginning to care less and less.

So what if you liked the castle? Liked visiting the Lord of the Night? It’s not like he had moved from his place since you slept on the floor.

The only discernible difference was the occasional movement in his eyes. Something that freaked you out a bit at first whenever you noticed it, whenever it rarely happened.

You and him weren’t hurting anyone, and you were still able to keep an eye on him.

Though your increase in trips were becoming a slight problem.

It was a getaway, and it angered your step family horribly.

You weren’t sure why they cared so much. They always talked about how if you didn’t exist they would have been better off. Surely being out of the house would be a relief.

Yet, whenever you went on a trip and came home, they always seemed angry, and not because you came back. They were angry you left.

It was all getting overwhelming. You felt like you were losing your mind. Why would they care so much, when it was blatantly clear they couldn’t care less about your well being?

The bizarre behavior only served to push you away even more. Why bother with their behavior when you could just vanish for a few days, even if it restarted this stupid cycle?

It only drove it further in your head that you were feeling trapped.

But once again, you at least had your sanctuary. Even if your comfort with the place had shifted so much the past few weeks, it was growing back to what it originally had been.

A sanctuary. A safe place from home.

Your visits with the statue had also changed as a result.

At first, you were hesitant on how to act. Should you be more wary? Closed off?

But when you took a trip back again after that time you had been sick, you decided to just roll with the punches.

He already saw you sick, and sleeping. Did it really matter at this point? As long as you were polite, you didn’t see a reason to behave any differently. He was still technically your host, after all.

If anything, you were more relaxed than ever.

After you had thought about it, the idea that Dracula was aware had somewhat been a weight off your shoulders.

He had already seen you as a mess. You didn’t have to play up any pretenses.

You also found that he was easy to talk to. It wasn’t on purpose, you just started talking on your visits.

At first, it was to fill the awkward silence. You talked about little things that had happened. Some silly hunts you had, and world events that had happened since he had been sealed away.

Though you began to wonder just how close you were getting to your family’s immortal enemy, when you started sleeping on his throne room floor on purpose.

Sometimes you’d find you talked too long, and it was late in the night. You started making the decision to sleep there every so often.

You never slept as close as you did the first time, still wary to a fault.

The statue didn’t move like the first time, though you swore the eyes followed you sometimes when awake. They would be in different places every so often.

You knew they were when you slept. It was… stirring confusing feelings in you, so you tried not to think on it too much.

It would have made you nervous if you hadn’t already spent so much time with him. You just wrote it off as a little quirk.

How fitting. The Statue of the Lord of the Castle, being able to watch your every move like in a cartoon or horror movie. It would be creepy if you didn’t find some odd comfort in it.

You later on ended up even searching your family home a little, curious if you could break the curse yourself.

‘It’s just in case,’ You would tell yourself.

As much as you wanted to deny it though, you knew you were curious. How you wondered if you had a means of breaking the curse, even though your own family placed it on him.

Would you actually do so? Probably not, even if the thought made you a bit sad.

Something you were a bit unsure and uncomfortable about. Were you really that lonely that you briefly thought about what it would be like to talk to him while free?

Yes, yes you were.

But you had a duty to uphold. Setting Dracula free could have so many consequences.

You also didn’t want to misread this.

Just because you felt comfortable at the castle, and in his presence, did not mean there wasn’t a chance he would kill you.

Your family was still his enemy, after all. He technically never agreed to just talk with you after you decided to spare him as a statue.

You didn’t want to get killed, and possibly doom the world over your silly delusions of maybe having a friend in the enemy.

There was something odd though about the whole curse.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t find much on it. You could only sneak into the family vault so often. You didn’t want to risk your family demanding you let them in again, or try and follow you. Again.

Even then, the few times you did manage to sneak into the vault, you didn’t manage to find much. Even when looking at the journals of each Belmont, all you really found was mentions of a spell, and a curse.

The last Belmont to fight Dracula, your grandfather, didn’t mention much about it. How he and his friend had used an old spell they had found to seal the Vampire away.

You found it convenient that you couldn’t find much about what the spell actually was.

By convenient, you actually mean annoying.

What if you needed to seal him away again? Or something went wrong?

Not a lot of planning on your grandfather’s end if he really didn’t leave any information behind.

That wasn’t even the worst of it either.

Apparently, there was a curse of some sort Dracula had placed on your family when your Grandfather had fought him. However, your grandfather refused to mention what it was, or what it entailed. All his journal mentioned was that a curse ‘existed’.

That certainly didn’t ramp up any lingering anxiety. Thanks grandpa.

Briefly, you wondered if this was why he was always so distant with you, and your extended blood related family. Perhaps he thought it would be less effective if no one really knew about it.

You had half a mind to call him and demand what it was, but that would only create a massive beacon towards the fact the enemy he sealed away had been found again after the castle initially disappeared.

It wasn’t worth the risk.

Something that still surprised you to think and say.

Still, the frustration, added along with the stress and sickness you were dealing with, were not mixing well at all. You were this close to tearing your hair out.

But you didn’t.

You held yourself together. You were at least thankful for your hunting experience. Without it, you wouldn’t have been able to keep a steady head in all this for as long as you have.

Still, even now as you warily watch your back just walking to your car for a hunt, you knew one thing was for sure.

Wherever calm resides, chaos is sure to follow.

You wouldn’t be able to keep this up forever.

—

Vlad prided himself on being a man of many things.

He was Lord of the Night, the King of Vampires.

He also considered himself a man of science, a title he wielded, long before he had even turned his back on god.

His prowess with magic was also something he considered himself a master of. He took to magic much like alchemy, though it helped he had centuries to learn and practice all he could.

That, and having the Crimson Stone and Death itself under his thumb was a boon for him. He had little to worry about when he had been young, so he had time to master anything that caught his fancy.

As time passed, and his interest in revenge and humanity had first diminished, he had even taken up other hobbies.

Renaldo, his old friend, may have been an old fool. However, he had been right about one thing.

Eternal life could be incredibly dull.

Vlad took to learning many different things and trades. He excelled as a tactician, so he also took on learning different means of battle and war.

It came in handy when dealing with armies of the damned.

Helping lead an army of crusaders had been one thing, but armies of hell's bloodiest fighters? It had been a whole new experience, one he easily took to.

Though after he had firmly set his place in the underworld, and proven he was far superior to any other vampire, life grew dull once more.

So he collected books. He had always enjoyed them, much to the chagrin of the church when he had been human.

They always said his time was better spent strategizing. If he must read, it was better spent on reports, or looking into ways to counter the enemy.

Vlad had barely gotten a chance to read for enjoyment as a human. When he had been Mathias.

As Dracula, he had all the time in the world. No one dared oppose him, even just to read a book or novel.

He had even taken the time to write and bind his own collection. Something only a select few close to him had known about.

So for all of his achievements, being killed over and over again, and then being turned into stone, was very much a slap to the face.

It was a huge blow to his pride and ego, though he had reluctantly begun to accept he was not on fate’s side when it came to the damned Belmont clan.

Being turned into a statue though? It was one of the lowest blows to him of all time. He would rather be prowling around in purgatory or hell, waiting to eventually be revived against his will, than be stuck as stone for several decades.

But, there was an upside.

You.

Vlad had mentally scoffed when he first saw you. He went through this whole song and dance in his head.

How you no doubt would be the one to free him. How you seemed so pathetic. So weak.

He didn’t find himself thinking such thoughts anymore.

Vlad wondered if he truly was growing to like your presence, or if being stuck in his own personal hell as stone was finally catching up to him.

Had he really gone mad from being stuck like this for so long? To the point he liked a Belmont?

Yes, he was a prideful man indeed, but even he could admit at this point that he was beginning to enjoy and look forward to your visits.

You truly were nothing like the previous Belmonts that had slain him. He really could see Leon in you, when he had assumed the bloodline had changed for the worst.

He liked you.

Would he admit it outloud? Probably not. But to himself in his mind, while stuck here? He didn’t see why he should deny it any longer.

Perhaps humanity still occasionally produced a diamond in the rough.

Vlad yearned for your presence. After those first few times, and he had caught glimpses of your personality and kindness, he craved to see you more.

He did partially blame that on being stuck like this for so long. However, he did genuinely wish to see you.

After he watched you grow ill the first time, is especially when it became difficult to deny he had at least somewhat grown attached after anxiety bubbled in his chest.

When you returned, the relief he felt had even surprised himself.

You had looked bad when you had stumbled out of his castle. It was another instance where he feared the time had come for his curse to take hold.

Yet, you managed to make it back wherever you were residing. You must have, because you came wandering back a few days later.

Your skin had sunken in, and you looked like you hadn’t slept in a week.

He must have been right, assuming you had been sick. Whatever you had must have been rough on you.

Vlad watched as you walked in, apologizing, talking with him for a while. It was even dare he say, cute, how you were still a little skittish. Still instinctively wary of him, but didn’t seem afraid. It was amusing in a way that would have had him teasing you if he could.

He listened as you spoke that visit, before you had gotten comfortable.

When you fell asleep though, he was a bit surprised, but he didn’t blame you. Even though you looked like you had some energy, you still looked like you needed rest.

It was strange.

For the first time in a long time, he felt warm, seeing you curl up close to his feet.

He doubted you fully trusted him, but when was the last time someone had done something so… gentle? Letting their guard down around him without fear, like he was another person?

It had been centuries, at least.

Did you really feel that comfortable? Or at least assured he could not hurt you?

He wouldn’t of course, not without cause.

Vlad watched you curl up, your body going still as your breathing evened out. You were out like a light.

You looked so peaceful sleeping. When you were awake, even when still sick, you were constantly on guard.

Sleeping however, your body relaxed, and you had a small smile on your face. He wondered what your genuine smiles looked like. Were they similar?

Dracula cursed his prison. He cursed your predecessor.

But not you. No, you hadn’t done anything wrong.

He wanted out. Wanted to talk with you. Meet with you formally and personally, not as he was now.

It was as if he felt his undead heart beat in excitement at the thought. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

That nearly made him pause. Just what were you doing to him? How was this grip you had over him growing so strong?

You hadn’t even done anything, except show him some basic kindness and mercy. He should hate you.

But as he has sat here and thought about it, dwelling on it, he finds he has no reason to.

Besides your bloodline, of course, but he didn’t always hate the Belmonts either. That would just be an excuse at this point.

He wanted to talk with you though. That promise you had made, of wanting to talk with him if he was freed… he wanted that. He yearned to be able to speak properly with you, let you know he was listening.

There was something about you. How you talked about your family, how you carried yourself. The way you still gave him respect, despite at one point had been terrified for your life.

You were fascinating. Vlad didn’t care if he was a broken record, but you were one hunter he wanted to learn about.

No doubt you had interesting stories and viewpoints. He’d love to hear them all.

The more he thought of it, the more he desired to be free. To move.

Dracula wanted to move. To talk. To touch.

You laying in front of him only made that urge, that desire, run hotter.

Your body was right there. He could have almost touched you. Feel you. Shake you awake.

Then the unthinkable happened.

Vlad moved.

It should have been impossible. He was well versed in what spell had been used on him, even if it had been modified to contain someone like him. The only thing that should have been able to make him move was blood from you or your family.

Yet, he moved.

Determined, he used this stroke of luck to push forward, bit by bit. He was so close to you, it wasn’t impossible to reach you.

It was tantalizing, and took so much power to keep going.

But he had to reach you. Touch you. Speak with you. It was as if that very desire was allowing him to keep going, to move another inch.

He was so close! Just a little further!

Before he could reach you, and cup your face, your eyes fluttered open.

You mumbled something under your breath, before jumping back in a squawk of surprise.

Had he really moved that close? Was it that noticeable?

It had to have been, with how alert you had appeared. You hardly seemed to believe that he had been able to do so.

But now that you were awake… it had been near impossible to get that same focus he once had. He wanted to curse and yell.

So close.

You kept your distance at first, confused and a bit wary.

After that, you surprised him by seemingly letting your guard down more.

In fact, you were more chatty than normal. It was like you were at ease with him, as if he were a nice acquaintance instead of an enemy.

What had changed? Had he startled you that much?

Or… perhaps by moving, you had a realization? You were acting more like he was in the room with you than before. Had that been a wake up call for you?

Vlad found that he didn’t particularly mind.

He would silently admit he liked it even.

You spoke about anything and everything.

Normally, Vlad could not have cared less over the little lives of humans, only checking in if there were wars or major events in the making.

But he couldn’t help but listen, captivated by anything you spoke about.

Sometimes you spoke about current events. Other times you occasionally talked about your hunts or home life, though he noticed how you held back when speaking about personal things.

He wasn’t blind to how your demeanor changed when you mentioned your home life. Alas, he couldn’t ask more about it given his current state.

It didn’t change how he couldn’t fight the bubbling worry that tried to blossom when you seemed pained when talking about it.

In fact, he was growing rather concerned with each visit at this point as well.

He enjoyed your visits immensely, enjoying hearing you talk, even if it was about darker subjects.

However, after a bit of time, he noticed how your visits were becoming a bit sporadic. Normally, it would be no business of his what your schedule was like.

But Dracula was a smart man. He was well known for his observations and keen eye over the centuries.

Something was wrong.

It wasn’t just the odd air around you when you briefly mentioned your home life, or the odd inconsistency of the visits.

No, what was beginning to concern him was how you came back injured, more often than not.

Or sick. You were rapidly falling ill time and time again. This wasn’t normal. Something was wrong.

He knew you were a hunter and all, but this was getting ridiculous.

You often tried to hide it too, though he had a feeling some of it wasn’t intentional, as if this was practiced. A learned habit.

Even if you tried to hide your injuries, you couldn’t escape his keen eye.

A wobble here, a stumble there. Favoring one arm over the other just ever so slightly.

You didn’t make it easy, but he could still spot those injuries clear as crystal.

It was happening at a higher frequency with every other visit, until you were sick or injured every time you visited the castle.

If Dracula could hum and fidget, he would be.

He didn’t like this, not one bit.

At this rate, as time went on, Vlad couldn’t help but grow weary.

Given his luck and experience, it was only a matter of time until something went wrong

He was sure of it.

[avvail-whumps]

I just realised in #20 of Guns for Hire, Leo was almosted 🍇ed by one of the mercenaries when he was asleep. If you mind, could you please write something about Leo admitting that to Roy? So we can see his reaction?

“Who was your least favourite?”

The question caught Leo off guard, momentarily pausing and turning his attention away from his food. He was eating a bowl of chocolate mint covered marshmallows, some leftover from Halloween. He hummed, his head lifting off Roy’s shoulder.

“What do you mean?” He asked, catching the mercenary’s languid stare.

“I mean the other guys,” he shrugged, as if it wasn’t such a horrible memory for him. “When I was away on my contract. Who was your least favourite?”

Why was he asking him this question so suddenly? Leo’s brow crinckled as he stared at his bowl, fingers squeezing one of the marshmallows gently. The mercenary seemed to notice his obvious hesitance, and leaned down to kiss the furrow in his brow.

“It’s not a trick,” he prompted smugly. He swiped one of the marshmallows and tucked the blanket tighter around them. “I was thinking about it last night, is all.”

Leo bit the inside of his cheek softly.

“Bran,” he responded in a small voice. He didn’t want to remember them at all, but he tried to swallow down the anxiety regardless. “I think Rafi next. He freaked me out a little, especially that one time when I woke up and he—”

Leo cut himself off. He snuggled further into Roy’s side. “Nevermind.”

“Nevermind?” The mercenary parroted, shaking his head. “When you woke up and what, lion?”

“I don’t want to...” His voice trailed off. “It’s nothing.”

“Come on,” Roy encouraged softly, hand gently rubbing his arm. Leo swallowed nervously, just trying to comfort the racing of his heart with Roy’s presence and his warmth instead. “You know you can tell me anything.”

Leo knew he could. That was what made it so difficult. He released a shuddering breath, fiddling the marshmallow absentmindly. He finally set it in the bowl, and another encouraging squeeze from Roy finally forced it from his tongue.

“Rafi, he...” Leo shifted. “I don’t think—he didn’t touch me, or anything. I just, I woke up and he was on the bed...”

He frowned. “I barely even remember it. But he was—trying to take my pants off and he said, he said that—” Leo felt Roy kiss the top of his head, tucking him under his chin. He took the bowl so Leo could wrap his arms around him. “He said something about it not being as fun if I was awake, so he left me alone. I don’t even remember it that well, I don’t even know if I dreamt it.”

There was silence from the man, before he spoke in a calm, measured voice. The arm around him had tightened inexplicably.

“He did?” Roy muttured grimly. Leo gently stroked the tattoo on Roy’s arm, just under the cut of fabric of his short sleeve.

“Yeah,” he whispered, his voice so quiet. “It’s not...I really don’t even think about it.”

Sometimes Leo thought about it. Sometimes when Roy would unbutton his pants, he would imagine what it would have been like it he hadn’t woken up that night. He liked it when Roy peeled his clothes off, but the memory clung to him like dirt, and it wouldn’t come off. So, he supposed he was lying, and he knew Roy wouldn’t like it.

“Yeah?” Roy sighed curtly, kissing the top of his head like he could hear his heartbeat picking up. “I’m glad I put a bullet through his skull. Didn’t know that was a taste of his.”

When Leo remained quiet, gentle fingers slid under his chin, tilting his head back to meet his eyes. They were darker than usual, but his voice was so warm.

“None of the others touched you, right?” He asked quietly, and Leo didn’t even have time to shake his head before Roy was continuing. “Because it doesn’t matter that Bran and Sean are in hiding, I will find them. So just give me an excuse to bury them in the back garden too, lion.”

Maybe it was the morbid sentiment that made him blush, but Leo shook his head. The fingers under his chin gently stroked his cheek, and he leaned keenly into the touch as if he’d never experienced it before. His heart skipped a beat.

“No,” he whispered. “Promise.”

Roy smiled slightly, leaning forward to kiss his lips. When he pulled away, the ex-secretary happily cuddled against his side, accepting the bowl of marshmallows back.

“Good,” he sighed, leaning his head against his in the coziness of the couch. Leo didn’t have to know that he was absolutely livid, seething with jealousy at the idea Rafi had even thought about the idea of touching what was his. “I’m glad.”