#drew this while having an anxiety attack

[alexmey-does-an-arts]

[myhyperfixatedmess]

Intrusion.

Tom Riddle × Fem!Reader

You always had a hard time understanding why Tom kept you so hidden away. One night something happens that makes you realize why.

Word count: 1.7k

Content warning: Hints of a panic attack, violence, depictions of torture.

Soft!Tom makes an appearance!

You were very aware that Tom kept you at a distance from his...business.

Even during your time at school, he only allowed you to attend the Room of Requirement meetings a couple of times after much pleading. Graduating didn't change the situation much, despite your marriage; you didn't mind not knowing every detail of his plans, but the extent of your seclusion felt odd. You just wanted to understand why he kept you hidden away so intensely.

Most days, you tried to convince yourself that being the wife of the Dark Lord was enough, even if you had no say in his world-altering decisions. It was hard to ignore that some of his followers were unaware of your existence, while others knew you only as "The Dark Lord's mistress," a term you doubted Tom was aware of or would tolerate.

Though a few Death Eaters knew you from your Hogwarts days, most remained tight-lipped around you, offering mere nods or quiet acknowledgments. It was clear they feared Tom greatly; making eye contact with you seemed like a perilous act. You weren't sure if it was due to his direct orders or their assumptions about his expectations. Either way, though you couldn't really fault them for hiding from you. While you weren't scared of Tom, you could understand why others would be. 

Quiet apprehension gnawed at you as you contemplated discussing your concerns with Tom. But you reasoned that avoiding potential arguments and trusting him were better choices. After all, you were an adult now, not a teenage worrier. You had married him despite his questionable morals, so who were you to judge?

The muffled conversations behind closed doors and fleeting glimpses of secretive meetings became your new norm. Sometimes you managed to catch glimpses through cracks, only to have the door swiftly shut when you were noticed. While you occasionally wondered about his trust in you, you pushed those doubts away to avoid unnecessary distress. You remained silent, occupying yourself with your own pursuits, whether it was reading, writing, or wandering the halls of the inherited family estate.

On this particular evening, you found yourself in the library, Tom being out for the night, which didn't bother you. As you perused the shelves, a loud bang from downstairs jolted you. Frozen in place, you strained to listen for more sounds, until harsh, unfamiliar voices reached your ears. Loud and aggressive, they echoed from the ground floor.

Panic surged as you realized you were in danger. These voices weren't part of Tom's inner circle, and you backed away from the library door, realizing that someone had broken into your home. The thought of a robbery crossed your mind, but then a chilling realization struck—you hadn't considered the possibility that Tom's ambitious plans might have made enemies.

Your initial instinct was to leave the house, apparate, and contact Tom for help. But as your hand reached for your wand, you remembered it was in your room. Unlike Tom, you couldn't perform wandless magic. Trapped and helpless, the sound of angry shouting grew louder, approaching from downstairs.

With each thud of footsteps ascending the stairs, you strained to catch their words. The first voice, a man's, sent a shiver down your spine as he called out, "Where is that bitch?" It was clear they were after you, and this wasn't just a random intrusion; they intended to harm you.

Anxiety clenched at your heart. You had never felt targeted before, never imagined this vulnerability. You cursed yourself for not being better prepared, for letting yourself be defenseless and alone. As their voices drew nearer, panic coursed through you; you were trapped, with no means of escape. 

With painstaking effort, you inched backward against the library wall, the cold surface offering a stark contrast to your racing heart. The air felt thin and suffocating, your breaths shallow and uneven, while beads of sweat dotted your forehead.

They were right outside the door now.

You pressed your hands against the wall, your pulse pounding in your ears, as you prayed for them not to notice you. They pounded on the door, and you clamped your eyes shut, fear tightening its grip on you with each thud.

A shiver of dread ran down your spine as the door gave way, crashing open under their assault. Two men stormed in, wands at the ready. Your body locked up, terror stifling your voice, and you blinked back tears that threatened to betray your composure. This couldn't be real, it couldn't be happening.

The realization hit that running was futile—your exit was blocked. Your heart raced as their eyes settled on you, and you weighed your chances against them without a wand. Your legs trembled as the fear that gripped you teetered on the edge of overwhelming.

"There she is," one of the men sneered, his gaze locking onto you. Panic gripped you tighter, the world narrowing down to their menacing forms.

"We've been looking for you. I'll take her. Come along." His companion's nod was a chilling confirmation, and your pulse quickened as he aimed his wand at you. Their grip tightened, hauling you forward, and you struggled against their grasp. Your voice wavered as you spoke, desperation evident, "Don't do anything foolish. Let me go!"

Their faces twisted with anger at your words, their cruelty evident.

"Voldemort's whore has a temper," the other man taunted, the use of Voldemort's name sending a shock through you. These were Tom's followers, but why target you? They had to know the repercussions of angering him.

"What do you want with me? What are you doing?" you pleaded, flinching when the grip on your arm intensified.

"Enough talking," he snapped, his wand slicing through the air to silence you. Before you could react, the curse fell from his lips.

"Crucio."

Agony erupted, a scream tearing from your throat. Pain seared across your skin, your body convulsing as the torture curse wracked you. Darkness encroached on your vision, and you were thrown backward, a collision with a bookshelf shattering your senses.

As your awareness wavered, a silver dagger gleamed in one captor's hand, your body too weak to move. The other man grabbed your hair, his wand trained on you, while the dagger-wielding one advanced with malicious intent.

"Please, no! Tom will b—"

"Shut it!" the man spat, the blade plunging into your leg. Agony shot through you, your body wracked with pain as your screams filled the room.

"That bastard doesn't even know we're here, but he's gonna regret making a fool out of us," the man hissed, drawing closer. Nausea swelled within you, tears clouding your vision.

"Unhand her." The voice cut through the chaos, familiar and commanding.

"Tom…" you croaked weakly, blinking teary eyes to see him standing behind your assailants. His eyes blazed with fury, and you clung to his presence, your savior in this nightmare.

The attackers froze, their surprise palpable.

"M- My lord," one stammered, and Tom's lip curled with disdain.

"Ah, so it is 'my lord' now?" he seethed, closing in. The men scrambled, leaving you slumped against the bookshelf.

"We meant no disrespect, sir," one attempted, while the other looked on anxiously. "We simply were…"

"Were what?" Tom's anger laced his voice. "Please do explain your assault on my wife."

"My lord," the shorter man bowed, "We didn't know—We just thought she was some intruder!"

The taller man nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, we came for you and saw her! We thought she was breaking in, my lord, I swear!"

The lies were transparent.

"Not only did you invade my home and attack my wife, but you dare lie about it," Tom growled, his gaze steely.

"No, we're—"

"Silence!" Tom's command silenced them both.

"Both of you will go downstairs; I will address this later." The men hurried away, assuming they were off the hook. Tom turned to you, worry etched his features as he reached for your trembling hands.

"My love, can you hear me?" he murmured, his voice a soothing balm. His arms enfolded you, lifting you gently. Pain rippled through you, your vision swimming.

"Everything will be all right now, I am here," he assured softly, but your pain remained relentless. Tom's gaze shifted to your bleeding leg, his brows furrowing in concern.

"You will be fine," he said gently as he cradled you. The pain was overpowering, your vision blurring as you teetered on the brink of unconsciousness.

His voice reached you, your consciousness slipping away, but you knew he was there.

And then the darkness enveloped you.

-

When consciousness returned, you found yourself in your bed, the dull ache in your head the only lingering reminder of the ordeal. Your gaze shifted to your bandaged leg, confirming that the events weren't some nightmarish illusion. Sighing, you realized it had all been real.

You pushed yourself up, cautiously testing your body's limits. Muscles protested the movement, and a groan escaped your lips as pain surged through you. Memories of the harrowing experience played on a loop in your mind, each scene etched with vivid intensity.

Tom's voice interrupted your thoughts. "You need to rest." His presence filled the room, and you met his gaze as he spoke.

"How long was I asleep?" you questioned, trying to make sense of the passage of time.

"13 hours," he replied calmly, offering you a glass of water. He settled beside you on the bed.

"Thirteen hours!?" Shock colored your voice as you nearly dropped the glass. "I was unconscious for thirteen hours?"

Tom's reassurance came with a touch. "It is okay, you're safe now," he said, his arms encircling you. The glass of water quickly emptied as you downed it, your body yearning for hydration after the ordeal.

"So, what happened to the intruders?" you ventured, your apprehension clear in your voice.

"They have been dealt with," Tom's response was clipped, his demeanor stern. You understood the implication behind his words and chose not to press further.

"I'm sorry, Tom," you murmured, resting your head against his chest. Fatigue washed over you, threatening to pull you back into sleep.

"For what?" he inquired gently.

"Being reckless," you admitted, your eyelids growing heavy.

"I was careless too," he confessed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "They are gone now. I will never let any harm come to you again."

"Promise?" you whispered, your eyes fluttering closed.

"I promise," his reply was tender, and with a content smile, you surrendered to sleep once more.

[pricesbeltbuckle]

mm, idk if this makes sense but i was thinking of a Konig x fem reader where she’s been dealing with pretty bad anxiety lately, being overwhelmed with just life and like the loving boyfriend he is, he does everything he can to make her feel better, even if it’s just for a moment

I'm home - König

Pairing: König x fem!reader with anxiety MDNI

Warnings: none, anxiety attack

I laid in me and König’s shared bed. He has been gone for about 4 months now on deployment. I try not to think about the time he’s been gone and I try to think about when he’ll be home, all the fun things we’ll do and all the time we’ll share together.

But then I think even more.

“What if he doesn’t make it back home? What if this time he’s gone forever? What if I have to spend the rest of my life alone? Is he okay right now??”

I kept thinking and thinking curling myself up into a ball on top of our bed rocking myself back and forth being clouded by my own thoughts. Everything was so loud I couldn’t even hear the front door unlock and him calling my name.

“Schatz, ich bin zu Hause!” (Sweetheart I'm home!) He was yelling for my name looking around the room while he took off his big boots in the hallway putting them on the shoe rack. “Schatz? Are you in our room?” He started walking up the stairs opening the bedroom door. He saw me on our bed in the middle of an anxiety attack and he quickly came to my aid. Quickly snapping me out of my thoughts he knelt beside me caressing my cheek.

“Oh Maus..I’m right here you’re okay.” He comforted me as I looked him in the eyes. I quickly wrapped my arms around his neck putting my face into the crease of his neck. “You’re home..You’re okay.” I said in between tears. He quickly picked me up off the bed wrapping my legs around him. 

“I’m home and of course I’m okay…were you worried about me just now?” He asked me with genuine concern in his voice as he drew small circles in my back trying to soothe me. “Well…Yeah that and just life it’s been grueling.” I responded back to him wiping my tears into his shirt. He then sat on our bed and made sure I was comfortable laying on him as I now moved down more to lay my head on his chest. “Please Mein süßes Mädchen don’t stress I’m here now and I promise I wouldn’t leave this world without you by my side.” He kept comforting me as he toyed with my hair twirling it around his finger and stroking it behind my ear.

“You promise?” I looked up at him with half lidded eyes seemingly tired. “I promise hübsch, Till death do us part.” He then placed a small kiss to my forehead as I started to drift to sleep. I wish everyday could be like this, even if it only lasts 15 minutes.

I tried to make this as long as I could, I added a little spin on it. I hope you don’t mind haha <3.

[southparkl4d]

part uhhhhh 25 wow this took me a while my confidence in making this rly deteriorated throughout the process but it turned out pretty ok i think

Previous

Next

Jimmy, Tweek, Clyde and Bebe take a shortcut through the North Park Funland, an abandoned amusement park stocked full of fun and definitely not infested with the undead. Clyde and Jimmy are infatuated with the empty park, thinking it’s awesome they have this entire place to themselves. Bebe is indifferent and cool-headed, while Tweek is constantly paranoid for every step he takes.

explanations:

Everything lined in red is not actually there. Bebe, Jimmy, Clyde and even Tweek don’t see these, but rather it’s a manifestation of Tweek’s anxiety and paranoia. The entity in the mirror house, the hunter watching the group, Craig, Clyde and Tolkien being deceased, Tweek’s tears, the flashes of him being dismembered, the figure watching Tweek sitting on the bench, Bebe being eaten alive, the smoker tongue/zombie figures about to attack Jimmy and Clyde while they enter the gift shop.

The last scene with the art styles switching is supposed to be Tweek spiraling into an even worse panicked state, things becoming disoriented and abnormal. Clyde has an X over the eye that is no longer there instead of an eyepatch because Tweek is thinking back to when he first lost it, with the thought that the same fate or even worse could happen to any of them at all times if they weren’t careful enough.

The second part of the styles switching is a flashback of Tweek’s memories before the apocalypse started, walking in the school hallway. Bebe is scribbled out because he didn’t know her well back then and Clyde has his other eye. The scene fades out, thus ending the animatic, leaving Tweek’s feelings unresolved and seemingly unending.

Jimmy and Clyde barely take notice of Tweek’s mental state, and Bebe tries to help but doesn’t fully understand what Tweek needs for support. He’s keeping a lot of his feelings internal, rather than normally yelling and expressing his emotions due to not wanting to attract a horde and killing himself and his group.

what was the point of this animatic:

to shine a light on how tweek is handling his anxiety throughout the apocalypse, and the negative effects it brings to him mentally

sry i hope this makes sense i literally had no plan while i was making this 3/4s of this was made up on the spot lol i have homework to do man

also a huge huge ginormous thank u to everyone who drew a frame for the last scene i seriously appreciate u putting time into making something for my au thats actually so awesome

❗️SLIDE 30 OF LAST SCENE CREDIT WAS FORGOTTEN - @moltergeist ON TUMBLR

[ivystoryweaver]

Spectre

A Moon Knight Halloween Love Story

Event #9: Little Shop of Horrors

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Summary: Steven is pulled to the front, but for once, it's not Marc panicking. You venture into town in search of a certain disappeared shop.

Pairing this chapter: Marc Spector x f!reader, Steven Grant x f!reader (Jake is mentioned)

Word count: 3.5k

Content: angst, nightmare, anxiety attack, hurt-ish/comfort, domestic fluff-ish, romance, cuddling, kissing, mentions of death and dead body, exposition galore, not beta'd

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PREVIOUSLY on Spectre…

Only you were here, with him. 

“I’ve got you,” he promised again, and again.

You remained. You were real.

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You fell asleep on top of Marc in his favorite chair. The passionate interlude between you literally wore you out. He held you, contentedly, for a long while. The weight of your body - the solid realness of you soothed him like nothing else could. Not after these empty, aching months without you.

In your sleep, you started to shiver. Feeling like he should warm you up, he decided to carry you up to bed. He pulled the hoodie back over your head, which roused you slightly, before tucking you securely under the covers. Finding his joggers, he pulled them over his hips before climbing into bed beside you.

Marc wasn’t tired at all, but he wasn’t about to leave your side.

An hour passed. You slept the whole time.

“How are you here?” Marc whispered, unable to tear his eyes from your profile - from the petal softness of your lips as you drew each breath of life.

Finally, he decided to creep down to the kitchen for a glass of water, and to retrieve Jeremiah. He remembered that you seemed to want the little guy in your presence at all times.

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You were dreaming.

Marc crying at your grave.

Steven taking tea with a sweet little lady on Main Street.

Jake banging his fists against his steering wheel in anguish.

It had to be a dream, because only dreams could conjure images so bizarre.

Steven was somehow now…in the fish tank? Unable to breathe. Trapped.

Marc fell into the earth, inside a waiting casket.

No!

Jake lit a cigarette - he hadn’t smoked in years - and pulled his cap down so low it almost covered his dark, accusing eyes.

“You didn’t tell me,” he spat. His car filled with a dangerous amount of smoke, burning your lungs, as if the whole car were catching fire.

“You didn’t even tell me you were coming to see me!” He growled, flinging the still-burning cigarette at your face…

…which pulled a scream from your lungs and woke you up.

In reality, your dream scream was only as loud as a whimper.

You were in your bedroom. Alone.

No.

Were you trapped here again?

Frantically touching yourself all over, you tried to convince yourself that you were here, that you were real. But where was Marc?

You called for him.

“Marc!” You screamed, scrambling out of bed, but feeling the covers tangling around you, holding you captive.

“Marc? Marc!”

You started gasping for air, your chest heaving as you hyperventilated.

"I’m here!” He called, sprinting into the bedroom with Jeremiah under his arm and a glass of water in his hand. Carefully placing the items on the night stand, he practically leapt across the bed to gather you into his arms. “I’m here, I’m right here,” he soothed, his heart shattering as you struggled to regulate your breathing.

Grasping your arms, he knelt with you on the bed, staring directly into your eyes. “Sweetheart, listen to my voice. You’re having a panic attack. You’re okay, you’re safe.” He nodded encouragingly, his handsome face the very essence of empathy and tenderness. “I’ve got you. I know how these feel. I know you’re scared, but you’re safe.”

He looked for any indication that you were understanding him.

Gripping your hand, he pulled your palm flat against his bare chest. “Breathe with me, okay? Gotta slow down. Remember you’ve done this with me a hundred times. Breathe in…” He watched you hiccup and gasp to take a deep breath in, finding a new appreciation for you, having never experienced this side of an anxiety attack before.

“That’s my girl,” he soothed, nodding at you with the softest smile. “Now out, blow your lips like this.” Tears streamed down your cheeks as you shakily exhaled. “There you go. Now in, with me… And out.”

The two of you worked together to slow your breathing until you sagged against him, sobbing.

“I’m so sorry,” he soothed, rocking you back and forth as you slumped into his lap. “I was only gone for a minute. Just long enough to get Jeremiah and a glass of water. I was here the whole time.”

What you couldn’t explain to him just yet was - you didn’t mind crying. The flood of panic and tears made you feel alive. The way he held you protectively against the heat of his bare chest was reason enough to live.

“It’s okay,” you whimpered several minutes later, murmuring against his throat as he held you securely. "I'm not upset with you. I-I had a nightmare and I woke up really confused. I was just hoping I’m really still here with you.”

“You’re here with me,” he assured you, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "You're here. I've got you."

"Please just hold me," you whispered, nuzzling into his neck, feeling like you couldn't get close enough to him. After several encounters as a spectre, you simply could not get your fill of feeling your partner warm and close to you. "Talk to me - I want to hear your voice."

Easing down, Marc pulled you with him, keeping you half on top of him, pressed and molded to his body at every possible point. Your legs tangled together as his mouth sought yours out.

Fully aware that you'd asked to hear his voice, he gave you the warmth of his breath and the heat of his tongue instead. You melted into his kiss as he tasted you.

You went limp in his arms - his strong embrace such a comfort even as your body bloomed alive with desire. His hand cupped your cheek as your lips parted, granting you a gentle smile as he stared deeply into your eyes.

"What do you want me to talk about?" He gently questioned, tracing your lips with his fingers before dragging them down over your throat. Before allowing you to answer, he pressed his fingertips to your pulse point. "Your heart is racing."

"I know," you breathed, smiling at him sweetly. "I just keep trying to believe I'm here - that we're here together."

“You’re here, and Jeremiah’s here. And the three stooges are here too, just downstairs in the tank,” he gently teased, referring to the rest of your fish. “And they’re not the only ones here.”

Easing back, he swallowed, considering his next words. “Steven almost confused your anxiety attack with one of mine so he’s…well, he’s here too.”

“Steven?” You whispered, your eyes shining with love and awe. “He can hear me?”

Marc nodded. “It…well, it doesn’t usually happen like this, but…he really wants to…I-I’m not trying to leave you - "

“It’s okay,” you eagerly nodded. “Whatever you and Steven think is best. I trust you.”

Almost imperceptibly, the wrinkle between Marc’s eyebrows relaxed as his brown eyes went wide.

“Steven?” You breathlessly whispered, brushing your fingers over his cheek.

“What’s all this then?” Steven blinked, trying to get his bearings - to understand how you could possibly be here, in his arms. He had witnessed some of the interaction between Marc and you already, but actually feeling you against him was quite another thing. “Not back in the Duat, am I?”

“No,” you tearfully laughed out. “No, we’re here, at home. I’m here with you, somehow. I don’t know how. I woke up this morning with Marc.”

"Alive as you ever were, it seems," he breathed out, running his fingertips over any skin he could reach - your cheek, your lips, your throat, warm brown eyes shining with wonder. "Bloody amazin'. Can't believe I'm not dreaming."

"I know," you agreed, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into a fierce hug. "I can feel you, Steven. Just like we wished."

Eagerly accepting your hug, he kissed your hair. "Missed you so much, my love."

You held onto one another for a few indulgent moments as Steven pressed sweet kisses to your neck and jaw, making you shiver with desire and your heart burn with love.

"You're not hurt though, darling?" He murmured. "Thought Marc was panicking there, but - it was you?"

As he eased back, his eyes darkened with worry, raking over the contours of your face, remembering every single inch that had threatened to escape his memory in the months you were departed.

"Just had a little nightmare. Much better now," you sweetly smiled at him.

You spent the next several minutes in Steven's arms, simply trying to explain the last several hours between you and Marc, and possibly sort out how you could be here.

He filled you in on the odd happenings - anything Marc hadn't already shared, including the mysterious Ms. Marjorie and her disappearing shop.

While Marc had taken care of you physically - easing you into your first moments alive with gentle, adoring touches, taking care of you as you cleaned up, dressing you, cooking with you and finally giving in to your desperate desire for one another -

Steven was there for you to talk things through. It wasn't that you desired Steven any less. It was only about timing. You had only been alive for the last few hours, and you weren't entirely sure if you would stay that way.

Steven was there to puzzle it out with you, patiently, eagerly and sweetly. He suggested that the two of you venture into town. He honestly wanted to see if Ms. Marjorie would be there. He had no reason to believe she would be, but since you had reappeared, maybe there was a chance. He felt like she might have some answers.

And even if the elder woman wasn't connected to you in some way, he still wanted her to meet you.

You and Steven shared a brief discussion about what you might tell the townspeople, who thought you were dead and buried in Green Lawn Cemetery. Most of them had attended your funeral, mourned you, and had spent weeks and even months looking after Marc, Steven and Jake.

You decided to cross that bridge when you came to it. There might be no time to wait around the house only to disappear again. So you grabbed Marc's favorite black baseball cap, pulled your hood over your head and - hand in hand, you and Steven made the short trek to downtown.

"Must be overwhelming for you, love," Steven sympathized, sweetly squeezing your hand as you walked together.

"Marc said the same thing," you let him know, smiling over at him. "I feel okay right now." Even as you courageously shuffled along beside your partner, you gripped his hand, your anchor.

Autumn breeze swirled around you, kissing your cheeks with its faint sting - the aroma of cinnamon and clove invading your senses and making your mouth water.

"You'll let me know, though, won't you? If it's too much? If we need to go back home?" Steven slung his arm around you and hugged you close, understanding how out of sorts you must feel. He'd felt something similar a hundred times at least - being forced to front with no notice.

You assured him that you would tell the truth if you felt overwhelmed. But nothing more happened before your stroll came to an abrupt halt - interrupted by the hand painted sign of the most adorable shop.

"Mystic Delights and Other Charming Novelties"

"I knew it," Steven gasped, making a beeline for the shop's door, pausing long enough to practically drag you by the hand to a little old woman leaning against the counter, reading a paper.

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"Ms. Marjorie, is that you?" Steven asked, clearly shocked to see her.

Ms. Marjorie, however did not look surprised in the least.  She slowly lowered her newspaper, adjusting her glasses before carefully eyeing the couple before her. A blind man could see you two were in love.

"Mr. Grant - what a match you two are," she almost neutrally observed, as if stating a mundane fact.

Steven glanced at you curiously before turning back to the mysterious woman. "Ms. Marjorie, why...how are you here?"

The older woman smirked slightly. "Why, Mr. Grant, I work here, don't I?"

"Um, no, actually. I mean, I've been looking for you and you haven't been 'round here. No one was." Steven sheepishly shrugged, realizing he wasn't making much sense. Clearly the woman was here, and so was her shop.

"Wait a minute. Is this shop even...real? And does your presence...have something to do with her?" He gestured toward you before reaching for your hand. "This is my partner. The one I told you about. But you don't seem surprised at all to see either of us."

Ms. Marjorie finally cracked a smile. "Clever boy. I figured you would be the one to puzzle it out. Perhaps you'll have some tea and biscuits with me while I explain a few things."

"That would be nice, Ms. Marjorie, thank you," you finally chimed, with a warm smile, thrusting out your hand and reciting your name.

"What a pleasure to meet you, my dear."

After ushering the two of you to the back office kitchenette, Ms. Marjorie showed you and Steven to the small table where he’d shared tea with her before - the first day they met. Without a hurry in the world, she started the kettle and rummaged around for her mother’s tea set before finally speaking.   

“Now I suppose you'd like to know why your partner is here with us, in solid form - but I'm not going to tell you just yet.” She opened a cabinet door, reaching for a tin of biscuits and three small plates. “My story begins months ago - on an unusually warm spring evening.”

“The night I died,” you ventured a guess, eyeing Steven sympathetically as he squeezed your hand.

“Murdered, weren't you?” Ms. Marjorie curiously questioned.

“Yes ma’am, I was.”

“By an evil man, if I'm not mistaken,” she confirmed, with a nod. “But here I've gone and gotten ahead of myself.” The older woman quieted as she distributed a few biscuits to each plate, removing the kettle from the flame just as the whistle blew. She spoke not another word until the tea was poured and the table set with sugar, non-dairy cream and even a few cucumber sandwiches. 

“You and I have a bit of ancestry in common, my dear,” she informed, pouring each of you a cup of tea.  

“We’re…related?” you inquired, taking a bite of your biscuit.

Ohhhh, man, did that taste good. You shoved the whole thing in your mouth, reaching for the second before Ms. Marjorie even finished serving the tea.  

“It’s not so much that we’re blood related,” Ms. Marjorie answered. “No, it's much more…mystical than that. You see,” she chuckled, wiping her hands on a cloth napkin, “Well, I might as well come out with it. I'm a witch.”

Steven looked at her like she had three heads, but it was you who spoke up. “A witch? Ms. Marjorie, really.”

“It's okay, love, let her talk,” Steven gently prompted, squeezing your hand across the table.  

“Yes, that's it, I'm a witch,” she repeated, situating herself in the table’s third chair and taking a sip of tea. “And you, my dear, have witch blood running through your veins.”

Oh, well, that pretty much explained things for Steven. He'd seen tons of paranormal happenings in his life. He knew witches were real and that magic could hurt people, although not all witches had magic powers. Some were simply children of nature. His guess was that Ms. Marjorie must be a magical witch.  

You, however, glanced incredulously between Steven and the strange woman who just informed you that you were part witch.

Ms. Marjoie took Steven’s nod of encouragement as a sign to continue. “My dear, your grandmother dabbled in a bit of witchcraft herself, if you can believe it.”

You gasped. “You knew Grandmother?”

“I did. You see, she was my cousin. Well - my second cousin. Our mothers were cousins.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You had a living relative? After thinking you were completely orphaned in the world after your parents died and you came to this town to live with your grandmother, who had now also passed.

“Y-you mean…that would make us, um - "

“Distant cousins,” Ms. Marjorie replied, moving the story along. “At any rate - the night you were…well, attacked, I was summoned.”

You shook your head, confused. “Summoned?”

“My dear cousin cried out to me for help and I answered,” she responded, as if her answer was the most sensible thing in the world. “I saw you on Main Street, stopping to walk into the drug store when a man grabbed you.”

Ms. Marjorie shook her head ruefully, setting her teacup back in its saucer. "My family were church-going folks and did not take kindly to the thought of witches and magic and such. So I never became much of a practicing witch. But the power was so strong in me - you see, I knew I was different from a young age. That night, as I watched you struggling for breath, I cast my first spell. Or - my first life-or-death spell, of that magnitude."

She laughed, pointedly looking toward you. "My apologies for royally messing up your afterlife."

"I-I don't understand," you murmured, completely entranced by this woman's tale.

With a deep breath, she pressed on. "I cast a spell to keep you from harm; I wished for you to have a long and happy life with someone who would truly love you. I believe I used the phrase, 'your one, true love.'

"What I didn’t know is that you were already dead by the time I chanted the words. My amateur spell had just enough power to keep you from passing into eternity, but not enough power to bring you back to life. That's why you’ve been stuck all this time, just like Sleeping Beauty, waiting for her prince to come to the tower and rescue her."

"Ms. Marjorie, a-are you saying that Marc, o-or Steven or even Jake brought me back to life?" you questioned, your wide eyes blinking curiously.

"Indeed I am, my dear. Once true love found you, you were saved, just as I had wished those months ago."

"But she’s been gone for months. Why did she not come back to life until now?" Steven curiously inquired.

"A very good question," Ms. Marjorie answered. “Perhaps this is the time of year when the veil between the living and the dead is the most…accessible. Halloween, Day of the Dead, All Saint's Day, All Souls Day - any way you slice it - souls roam freely for these few nights.

"I can only assume that you saw her and she was drawn to you when you were both ready," the elder woman went on. "As soon as you realized it and embraced it, she was able to come back to life but only the next time she appeared. The spell was broken and you are as alive as you were those months ago."

"I'm sorry, darling," Steven breathed, his eyes darkening with sorrow.  "I'm sorry I couldn’t see you before."

You smiled sympathetically, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.  "You've given me the most beautiful gifts, Steven - life and love. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"But I should have known…and then you would have - "

"No," you shook your head.  "Don't do that. Everything worked out.”

Ms. Marjorie watched the two of you with admiration, pouring each of you another cup of tea from the kettle. "What you just said is more true than you know.," she informed. “My dear, their love brought you to life and you'll stay alive as long as they live, and as long as they love you."

Steven gasped, unable to believe what he was hearing. "Are you s-sure? I mean, what if - what If I live a really long time? Or die next week?"

"I'm sure," she said, with a reassuring nod. “Her witch ancestry can give her a long life, not to mention the spell I cast. You two are stuck together, literally, until death does you part. Hope you don't mind, my dears."

But Steven was bursting with questions.

"Ms. Marjorie, why does she look the same? What happened to her body?”

"When I cast the spell on her," Ms. Marjorie explained, leaning forward on her elbows, "It's like I froze time for her. She is exactly the same as the night she died, except no longer in her old body."

She turned to you, smiling softly. “Their love essentially made you…materialize, just as they perceived you to be. I really don't know a better way to explain it. I'm certainly no scientist."

"So my body is…out there somewhere?" You questioned, feeling a bit queasy at the thought of your own corpse. "Ms. Marjorie, you said that you witnessed my murder, isn't that right?" you added, your brain switching gears. 

She nodded.

"So, what happened after I, um…died?  What did the man do? What did you do?"

“Exactly,” Steven chimed, a bit accusingly. “Why didn’t you come forward? Why didn’t you notify the police?”

She smiled wryly. “The answer to that question is beyond the scope of this conversation. But if you think on it - it’ll come to you.”

next

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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[staarboyyy]

supernova

depowered!homelander x reader | no pronouns

18+ characters / scenarios - minors dni

tags / warnings ; homelander reffered to as john, angst with a fluffy ending, domestic sweetness, anxiety attack, eating difficulties

summary ; john feels lost after losing his powers despite settling into a "normal" life with you.

word count ; 1k

a/n ; i posted this a while back to my old ao3 and wanted to put it here, please enjoy !

‘ When a massive star runs out of fuel, the force of gravity causes it to collapse on itself and explode. The stars' remains are fired across the galaxy at a speed of forty thousand kilometers per second. Entire galaxies are outshined by the death of one star - A supernova.’

    “Do you think I’m still - Me?”

   

    “What do you mean?”

John fell silent to this question, his eyes cascading slowly over the small apartment before him. It was nothing at all like his room in the tower. Empty, walls barren and painfully dull, the windows only give way to the falling sunset's leaking sunlight, furniture worn in and bought second hand. You pursed your lips as you watched him take in the room for the hundredth time today, his eyes tired and lost, heavy bags underneath the once glittering blue gaze you found yourself swimming in. With a sigh, you bring yourself closer to him on the couch, causing him to give a quick glance to you - John is still himself. Painfully so. Your hands were hesitant for a moment, raising to gently comb through his now fading hair, the dark brown blooming at the roots; Yet his tired eyes suddenly widening at your movement stopped you. He was defenseless, not having left the apartment you bought together for quite some time, losing the muscle mass he once flaunted with shameless pride. His posture had even changed, instead now slumping forward with his elbows resting on his knees, wearing loose pajamas you had brought him home. 

    “It’s all I ever was. So what am I now,”

    John began in a soft voice, his eyes faltering as they drew away from you, to your hands. In his mind, your hands looked different. Everything about you did. He took a slow inhale, the breath swelling in his chest in the same unfamiliar fashion it did since he lost his powers - Everything had become so much more delicate in his eyes; The first time he had helped bring in the couch, you two now sat on, he couldn’t bring it in on his own, and found himself soon weeping on the ground before you, hardly able to explain with words how pathetic he felt he had become. Useless in more ways than he could ever think. Even the small things, having to keep up with eating and drinking water, had become more of a challenge than he had anticipated, and it showed in how his fingers trembled. He so desperately wanted to be grateful when you reminded him, but he still seemed to have a glint of fierceness in his eyes when you did - How dare you assume you knew better than him? But now you had. You had come to know him more than anybody else in the world.

    “You’re here. With me. In a shitty one-bedroom apartment with terrible plumbing, and a t.v on the ground. But, you’re here still. If that was all you were, you wouldn’t still be here, you know?”

    Your words made his breathing hitch slightly, head falling to avoid your gaze - This was something he did far too often these days. Choosing to let the words fester angrily in his mind, the feeling of his lashes becoming wet from the absurd uncontrollable urge to cry, making his stomach turn nauseatingly. John hated crying more than any of the other traits that came with losing his sense of self. How the unbridled heat gathered tightly in his throat, unable to breathe through it how he normally would have. It’s suffocating how his breathing shakes, his hands clenching in feebly weak fists, nails digging hard into his palms. It hurts. Searing hot, the bubbling need to let a sob break from his chest seems to take over all other rational senses. A strangled gasp escaped him, your arms coming quickly to wrap over him as he shakes his head - He wants to pull away, to scream, to collapse to the floor and beg for whatever God there might be to take him back. To pull him back to the subconscious torture of being the face of America. 

    “I can’t protect you - I can’t even protect myself.”

    You held onto him still, your grasp firm in an attempt to ground him. The feeling of his panic rising made him feel absolutely sick. To experience adrenaline in a way he’s never felt or seen before, to feel the fear he once drank down in careless gasps - It made him feel glued to the spot, a deer in the headlights. Your arms felt strong, felt stable, and hard around him as you pulled him closer to your chest. For so long, John had been able to hear your heart from standing yards away, and now the rarity of it became one of a cherishable sound. His ear pressed against your chest, his breathing still faltering as he listened quietly, foreign tears lacing down his cheeks in slow streams, his eyes wrenched shut in an expression of agony. 

    “You’ve always protected me; You never needed powers to do that. You make me feel safer than anyone, even now. Especially now.”

    John’s eyes slowly opened at this, the sound of your steady heart filling his head, silencing his own thundering one. To him, protection had always been dependent on his strength over others, mind, and body. How he was so easily able to twist words, make others blood run cold with just the sound of his voice or a squeeze of his gloved fist. His eyebrow twitched, lips moving briefly to form words that refused to leave his now swimming mind. He looked nearly confused at how you could so easily speak to him despite your shifting expression of furrowed brows, eyes warm and sympathetic. Normally, John would have jumped at this type of rumbling fear, using it to fuel the continuing power he bathed in - But instead, he slowly raised his hand to meet your cheek. It used to feel so malleable underneath his fingers, yet the warmth spread over his palm now, gently moving across the soft skin with a soft rumbled exhale from his lips. 

    “You promise?”

    “I promise.”

    And then for just a fleeting moment, his breathing calmed. Everything felt safe in this moment, his hand on your face, gently clutching you in hopes of not losing you. Never losing you.

[amongemeraldclouds]

no take backs

As the earth collapsed around you, your sworn enemy decides to confess his feelings for you with a kiss. So when the world doesn’t end, what happens next?

Jess Mariano x f!Reader

Warning: 18+ only MDNI, fluff, slight angst, unprotected sex, piv, v!fingering, reader has anxiety (only plays a small part in the story), earthquake (no injuries)

Author’s note: Based on this request then I expanded on the concept. This fic is set after he left Stars Hollow.

✿ Masterlist | ✿ Jess Mariano Masterlist | 2.4k words

“Just because I’m letting you drive me home, does not mean we’re friends,” you huffed as you climbed into the passenger seat of Jess Mariano’s beat up car. Vintage, he called it. You’d never admit it, but you found it cute how he was proud of it. To him, it was his key to freedom, going anywhere he wanted whenever he wanted. Except for when nature had other plans.

“Well, a coworker could take his other coworker home, okay?” He said, closing the car door as he slid his keys into the ignition and started up the car. You relent and gave him your address.

It was just your luck that the Earth’s tectonic plates decided to shift in ways that damaged your car, but not your mortal enemy’s. Perhaps it was karma and you were being encouraged to make amends with him in the name of world peace. Try as you might however, the word “peace” and Jess Mariano just did not fit.

It certainly did not feel peaceful being trapped in a car with him. Your cheeks blushed as you remembered how soft his lips felt against yours and the eager way they moved as if it was the final thing he would ever do in his life. And for a few moments back at the publishing house, tucked safely beneath a table while the world shook violently around you, you were both convinced it was your last moments.

It was confusing. The way your heart hammered and you didn’t know if it was from fear of dy*ng or the way his kiss invaded your entire being. From the moans it elicited from your throat, to the air it stole from your lungs, and the butterflies that rushed in your stomach. It was hard to tell if it really was just an earthquake or the mind-shattering truth that your enemy might not actually hate you at all.

Then it was over too soon. The air felt cold without him close to you and he was pulling you up from under the table.

“So we’re just not going to talk about it?” You asked, piercing the awkward silence.

Jess just shrugged and spoke casually, “talk about what?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, of course he wasn’t going to make this easy for you. But he had no right confusing you with a kiss after constantly making your life a living nightmare.

“Jess, you kissed me,” you deadpan, addressing the elephant in the room. “Coworkers don’t kiss other coworkers.”

“A lapse of judgment in a life-threatening situation,” he dismissed, keeping his eyes straight on the road.

Your mouth curled, the sweet aftertaste of his kisses turning sour. You fumed in silence as you looked outside the window with unfocused eyes. You weren’t sure what you were more upset about: his denial or your disappointment - having to face the horrid fact that you also didn’t hate your enemy.

“Shit, the road’s blocked,” Jess drew you out from the thunder of your thoughts as you looked at the cars lined up ahead. It was like a scene from one of those post-apocalyptic films you’ve seen and dread sank in your chest. Perhaps you should stick to watching cheesy rom coms because this pessimism was not helpful at all.

“Can we go somewhere else?” You whispered softly, anxiety bearing down your chest.

Jess looked at you with concern. “Sure, let’s find somewhere we can park until things get better,” he replied with an equally soft tone and you hated it because he knew all about your anxiety and penchant for panic attacks. You didn’t like being weak around him, not if he could be sweet and caring only to take it all back when you’re fine.

He parked the car in between buildings, sheltered from the wails of emergency response vehicles and the rush of people trying to go home. You exhaled after going through rounds of breathing exercises to calm your anxiety.

“My my, a secluded alley. Jess Mariano, whatever do you plan to do with me?” You quipped, mildly accusing him or m*rder when the other meaning dawned on you, something that made you blush. Well, it was too late to back out now.

He smirked, “whose to say you’re not the one who wants to do things with me with that line of questioning, huh?”

“I wouldn’t do anything if I was the only one who liked it,” you hedged. Perhaps life was too short to keep denying your feelings. If there was ever a better time to learn that lesson, it was now. You just needed him to admit he felt it too.

“I don’t like the idea of being k*lled, thanks,” he scoffed as he plastered on a smug smile.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” you looked outside the window, an idea forming in your head.

“It sure is getting hot,” you comment innocently as you undid the top buttons of your blouse. Jess’ eyes followed your movement and you don’t miss the way his breath hitches.

“Better get comfortable, right?” You said, adjusting the car seat to lean back and you felt your blouse open slightly to reveal your cleavage. You were not going to make it easy for him to deny his feelings.

“Stop that,” Jess demanded while his eyes told a different tale of desire and longing.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you replied lazily. Two can play that game.

That’s right Jess, you thought, here’s a dose of your medicine. You continued, “this is much better.” You leaned your head back and stretched on the seat, aware of how your skirt inched up your legs.

You let out a satisfied moan, sighing in pleasure at thoughts of getting comfortable. If by comfort, you meant the satisfaction of derailing Jess’ denial and stubbornness. His eyes traced your legs then followed your chest when they rose and fell with your sigh. 

Jess grunted and you bit back a smile. “Okay, fine. So I kissed you,” he admitted.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “You said it meant nothing, so why would it matter?”

“I never said it meant nothing, I said it was a it was a lapse of judgment.”

“There’s a difference?” You raised your eyebrow, challenging him to continue.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he steeled himself. To Jess Mariano, telling the truth meant peeling back the layers of his sarcasm, which was as painful as stripping off his skin.

“You know when they say the world is about to end, you’d think your life flashes before your eyes. But all I could see was you. And it wasn’t just because you were in front of me. God, I closed my eyes, and all I could see was still you. Laughing at your own jokes, greeting everyone with a smile, typing away on your computer. It would be such a shame if I didn’t get to kiss you if that was the last thing I’d ever do, damn it. But then the earthquake stopped and we were fine.”

Your eyebrows creased as you let his words sink in. “Is it really so bad that we survived?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, “I don’t think I could ever survive you. You frustrate me because you’re just so…you! You’re not someone I could just kiss once and get out of my system. I’d always want more and then I’d inevitably screw it up. It was better that you hated me from the start.”

His eyes burned with untold stories of heartbreak and self destruction. Despite all the ways he infuriated you, you wanted nothing more than to hold him. You had a feeling you were just seeing who he truly was beneath his smug smiles and his devil-may-care attitude.

“Jess, I don’t hate you,” you confess. “Don’t just make it one kiss,” you continue, allowing yourself to be just as honest as him. “Have another one, and another, and heck - have all of me!”

He looked at you in disbelief, as if he wished for the stars and he was told he could have the whole damn galaxy. A spark of joy and hope ignited something wild in him that he no longer let himself think of past regrets and mistakes.

He inched towards you, looking into your eyes for permission and you bridged the distance in response, kissing him. It was fiercer than when you both thought you were on the brink of de*th, because this time, it was a celebration of life and the possibilities that lay ahead.

You felt it when he sucked on your bottom lip and you moaned in pleasure, a small sound for all the words you couldn’t say. How all those time spent hating him was just a shield from your admiration of the man who took destiny in his own hands and never let the world define him.

The man who wrote stories and downplayed them through luck and how ink fumes must have altered his publisher’s minds to pick him. He never once acknowledged his talent, but secretly you did with the way you underlined your favorite sentences and re-read his book as if his words could wrap you in a sweet embrace.

He always kept you at an arm’s length and made your life hell, but it was heaven just being beside him. And you never dared to admit it. Until now, when he’s unbuttoning your blouse as he unravels your secrets. His mouth moves to your neck, setting your body on fire.

“Wait, what if someone sees us?” You ask, a wave of sobriety washing over you.

Jess just smirked, his lips pink and swollen, hungry for more of your kisses. “That’s half the fun.”

You rolled your eyes but god - you needed him. “And the other half?” You asked, mirroring his smirk.

“This,” he just says as he resumes your kiss.

It’s agony when you pull away again just to alleviate your anxiety, “can we at least go to the back?” It’s not much, but it’s better than being right by the windshield.

“Spacious,” he nods, moving away so you could climb over to the backseat. You felt the heat of his stare behind you as you settled in. 

He promptly followed suit until your bodies are tangled again with him laying you down the seat, careful so you don’t hit your head. You bring your hand to his stupid hair and run your fingers through it. His hands return to your blouse and your back arches on instinct when he unclasps your bra and he takes a moment to look at you. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he breathes as he squeezes your breast while he licks the other, planting soft tender kisses.

In his car, the sirens and chaos faded. You were consumed by Jess’ touch, both curious and possessive at the same time. His free hand traveling down your leg as he caressed it, slowly making his way to your inner thigh. You can’t help the way you squirmed beneath him as you held your breath in anticipation. In response, you palm his erection beneath his uncomfortably tight jeans and you’re rewarded with a grunt.

He teased you through your panties and you open your legs for him as he moves the thin fabric aside to feel your soft folds. You bite your lip and try to stifle your moan, but Jess brings his mouth to your ear, “I need to hear you, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.” You cursed in response, your mind swimming in a haze of euphoria.

His fingers send shockwaves of pleasure as he spreads your liquid heat, exploring your folds and paying attention to which sensations left you whimpering. He exploited them skillfully, rubbing and teasing, eager to make you a moaning mess for him. You gasped when he plunged his fingers inside you and you arched your back, needing him deeper.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he admires as he pumped his fingers in and out. You moved your hips against his hand, needing more of him. He was finally here, doing things you used to just dream about, secrets stashed beneath soft covers in your moonlit bedroom.

“Jess, please. I need to feel all of you,” you begged and his eyes darkened.

“I’m all yours,” he replied as he removed his fingers and cleaned them off with his tongue. “Fuck you taste so good.” 

You helped him free his hard length and you don’t stifle the needy moan that escapes you this time when he fills you up. He takes a few slow movements before building up to a steady pace, the delicious friction making your toes curl. “You feel amazing, Jess,” you tell him.

He kissed you as he rocked his hips into you, a clash of teeth and tongue. There was nothing gentle in the way you moved against each other, it was pure want and longing crashing into each other. It was months of fantasies finally coming true and desires unleashed building in your core.

The car moved along with you, giving you extra leverage to find your rhythm. The irony was not lost on you that as the world shook around you once again, things were falling into place this time.

Filthy, desperate whimpers escaped his lips and you spread your legs wider, needing him deeper inside you. He squeezed your breast in response and teased your taut nipples, eager to worship all of you. You closed your eyes when you felt yourself teetering on the edge.

“Look at me,” Jess tells you instead and so you do. You see the lust and passion in his eyes and it’s enough to unravel you. Little earthquakes of ecstasy erupt through you as you shuddered against him. He increases his pace, eager to coax every last aftershock of your orgasm. It doesn’t take long before you feel his release warming your insides. He rests his head in the crook of your neck as he recovers his breath.

When he pulls out, you swipe his spilled seed from your leg and bring it in your mouth, enjoying the salty taste. “Fuck you’re so hot,” Jess breathes out. 

You grin. “So this happened. You gonna deny it?” You challenged him as he held you.

“Nope,” he said with a grin. “This happened. You’re mine and I’m yours. No take backs.”

“No take backs,” you echoed as you leaned in for another kiss.

It was perfect. The world could end at that moment and you would not mind at all.

Still you were glad to stay alive. Because then, you could always go another round, and another. So it goes.

✿ Masterlist | ✿ Jess Mariano Masterlist

[i-like-cats-and-stars36]

In celebration of the "Spider Within" - short getting released to YouTube, I drew this little thing here.

Some Mikey comforting his bf while he's having a panic attack.

I really loved the depiction of anxiety in that short. It felt relatable to me as someone who struggles a lot with anxiety too.

So I wanted to draw a little bit of fanart for it and I just had to go with shellshocked, they're such a comfort ship for me. Just... two teenagers with conplicated lifes and mental health struggles that support each other through thick and thin, love to see it.

And I forgot the 'for' in the speach bubble, fuck.

[honeybeedrabble]

can u write a sdv three way smut with elliot and harvey x reader can it include an eiffel tower k thanks

OMG !! MY FIRST SDV ASK !! absolutely.

Sweet Summer 9: AFAB!reader x Elliot x Harvey

CW: inside joke, "cannon" typical violence/pain via smile attack, oral (M and F recieving), eiffel tower, unprotected piv (dont be stupid, wrap it up guys), hair pulling, cream pie (WRAP. IT. UP.) lmk what I missed.

As the new farmer, you had your work cut out for you. Summer had just started a little over a week ago and you were SPENT. With the brutal task of having to fish, forage, farm and mine, all so you could rebuild the community house, it was only natural you were so tired.

One afternoon you were going around CinderSap Forest, rummaging for forage-ables, desperately needing to find a grape anywhere you could. While scavenging a little too close to the secret forest, a slime had come outside and attacked you.

“Shit!” You yelped, jumping back as it shot a dart at your thigh. You rummaged through your bag as it knocked you back, slowly moving towards you with a patronizing pace. You drew your silver saber and sliced through the green creature with ease. You rolled yours eyes as it splat to the ground, slime oozing out of it you could collect for later.

You knelt down to examine your wound, touching the slimy secretion of the poison dart and winced in pain. You cursed yourself for wearing shorts, regardless of how hot it was today. You threw your bag on the ground, digging through it with an increasing anxiety as you couldn’t find a snack to tie you over.

“God dammit!” You threw your bag at a nearby hardwood stump, holding your head in your hands as you pouted at your own stupidity. With a heavy sigh you reached for your bag and got up on your feet, legs tensing up under the effects of the dart. You hobbled out of the forest, taking a few breaks every now and then as you approached town.

As you got closer and closer to the towns clinic, you saw Maru walk out, still in uniform. She saw you approaching rapidly and held the door open for you, a worried look on her face.

“What it is hoe? Everything okay?” She asked, her face curling into an amused smirk. She watched as you clutched your thigh.

“No… I was in the forest and I got fucked up by a slime…” you blushed, embarrassed to admit the small defeat from the green monster. Maru giggled.

“I’ve heard your stories, from killing skeletons to annihilating shadow brutes and yet you get hurt by a slime? You’re one hell of a farmer.” She laughed, readjusting her glasses. You lightheartedly laughed back.

“Well Ms. Scientist, I’d like to see you out there showing off your swordsmanship.” You leaned against the doorway.

“I’d never be carrying something so heavy in a life or death situation, i’d probably have some device to do the work for me.” She said, matter-of-factly with that signature smirk plastered to her face.

“Well when I sell of my crops to Pierre this harvest I’ll buy one off of you.”

“Sounds good. Look, I’m going on my break right now but go ahead and take a seat in the waiting room, Harvey’s a little busy.” She said, still holding the door. You nodded and headed inside, the door shutting behind you.

It felt like forever, sitting in that room all alone while your leg felt like it was threatening to fall off. You writhed in agony, a few grunts and groans spilling out of your lips while you sat in the blue chairs.

“Fuck this bullshit,” You sneered through a clenched jaw, stumbling to the double doors and down the hall to Dr. Harvey’s office. You threw open the door, clutching your thigh so tight your nails could’ve broke skin.

“WHAT THE!-“ The man seated on the bed yelled, clutching a white blanket to his waist, eyes widened with shock. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN HERE?!” He yelped, face red. Harvey turned around from the cabinets looking you up and down.

“Y-Your leg!” He stared at your thigh, the skin around your wound was red and your face didn’t hide the pain from the attack. “Elliot, would you please get off from the table? The farmer needs urgent medical attention!” His voice was stressed, looking through a cabinet quickly.

“B-But Harvey… I’m indecent…” he blushed, clutching the sheet tightly.

“Listen Elliot, stop messing around…” You groaned, leaning against the other side of the examination table. Elliot got up, quickly wrapping the sheet around his waist as you soon took his spot on the bed. Harvey placed a hand around the wound, a clear substance seeping out.

“It was a slime, wasn’t it?” He asked, wiping the sludge off with a cotton ball.

“How’d you know?” You asked, still clenching your jaw in pain.

“I’ve seen this before. We need to get this out ASAP." He started to squeeze the wound, you yelled in agony, the wound feeling like it was going to burst.

“Stop!” You swatted his hand away. He looked at you with a furrowed brow.

“Listen, I’ve got to get this fluid out before I treat it anymore.”

“No squeezing! It feels like you’re trying to pop the worlds biggest pimple!” You clutched the wound again, looking down at it with worry. Harvey’s hand went to his hair in stress.

“Okay, okay… calm down.” He said, mostly to himself. He took a deep breath. “I need to get some life elixir from the back but before I do I need to get this out of you one way or another. So if you want my help you’re going to have to cooperate.”

“Anything,” you nodded, desperate for alleviation.

“Elliot,” Harvey turned to him. He looked over to Harvey, his eyes blown wide. “You’re going to need to help.”

“Who me? I’m not a doctor, I don’t even know how to give CPR!”

“Elliot please, I’ll just need you to do a simple favor while I look for the elixir.”

“I-I… I don’t know…” He was nervous.

“Elliot please! I swear if you help me out I’ll get you 20 pomegranates next season,” You sighed, looking up at him. His face suddenly brightened before returning to a stoic expression. He nodded, then looked back at Harvey.

“What do you need me to do, Doctor?”

“I know this is a strange request but it has to be done.” Harvey had turned around, grabbing a small cup and handing it to Elliot. “While I go looking for the medicine, I’m going to need you to… to suck out the poison…” Harvey said. Elliot’s eyes widened.

“Suck the poison out?! Are you crazy? It’s poison, I don’t want to get sick.”

“The poison will only effect you if it gets into your bloodstream. As long as you don’t have any cuts or wounds on the inside of your mouth you’ll be safe. Just suck it out and spit it into here and don’t. swallow. it.” Harvey handed him a small cup of water, then turned and bolted over to the door and out, leaving you and Elliot alone.

“Are you okay with this?” Elliot asked, getting down on his knees, his grasp still firm on the sheet around his hips.

“Yes just… please.” You sighed, tears starting to well up. He nodded, silently reminding himself of the promise you made him.

He grabbed your thigh and maneuvered you to the edge of the bed, holding your hips in place. He lowered his lips on the wound and gently sucked the tender skin. You whined, squirming in his grasp. He brought his head up then grabbed the cup, spitting the liquid into it.

“Be still, I need to have you just like this if I’m going to be useful.” He said, his hand returning to your hip. He put his lips to your thigh again and you shuddered, a slight tickle going up your leg. You squirmed again and he sighed.

“If you can’t sit still then at least hold the cup so I can spit it in.” He bargained. You nodded, taking the cup from him and holding it at your hip.

His head ducked down, lips returning once again to your leg. You tried to hold back a breathy sigh, but failed when he started sucking. His warm mouth on your sensitive skin was beyond soothing, it felt almost euphoric. Feeling his plush lips cradle your wound made you feel like your eyes were going to roll back, you clenched them shut. He looked up at you through his long eyelashes, then returned to your leg, getting as much liquid out before spitting into the cup.

Your face was red and your legs twitched as he kept working on your injury, a strain of embarrassing whimpers escaping you every so often. His soft lips clung to your thigh, his fingers digging into your hip absentmindedly. Elliot made the fatal flaw of having. tongue dip out, running along your sensitive skin. Your eyes shot open, his hot tongue raking along your thigh, teasing you of what was just out of reach. This game you both knew was torture, Elliot deduced to only being able to suckle your sweet skin, the sheet covering him for modesty threatening to fall off.

Your hand holding the cup of water set it aside and your hand rested in his long hair. He smirked, licking a stripe along the flesh of your inner thigh. You gave up on stifling your moans and let one slip freely from your mouth. He then licked higher up your leg, his teeth grazing your upper thigh. Your hips bucked, the water beside you almost tipping over. Elliot looked up.

“What did I say about staying still, hm?” He reached for the water, taking some in his mouth and sloshing it around before spitting that into the cup, washing his mouth out.

“S…Sorry I-“ You panted, watching as his head ducked down and his lips attacked your thigh. He licked higher and higher up, his grip intensified as you kept moving against your will.

A soft moan escaped your lips, your core fighting as you watched the beautiful man between your thighs reach up to your waistband and and unbutton your shorts. He slid them off of you, your panties coming down with them and his mouth watered at the sight of your slick folds.

“All of this for me?” He purred, licking up your inner thigh and stopping right at your folds. You bit your lip, looking at the door, hoping the doctor wouldn’t come in and see you in such a compromising position.

“Y-Yeah…” you muttered. Elliot quickly grabbed your asscheeks and dove his head into your pussy, tasting your sweet juices and lapping at your sensitive clit.

You yelped, toes curling and your fingers tangled in his long auburn hair. He let out a few gutteral moans, his nails sinking into your plush cheeks, kneading your ass in his large hands. Your legs started to shake while he ate you out. Your own fingers started pulling on his hair, more beautiful moans were let out from the soft lips that were kissing and licking at your glistening folds.

The door flung open and you both whipped your head over to see Harvey standing inside, eyes wide and mouth agape.

"D-Doctor!" Elliot stammered nervously, standing up and stumbling back against the countertops, knocking over jars of cottonballs and gauze. You were eye level with his massive erection, precum staining the white sheet around his hips a sheer white, his pink-ish brown tip visable from the other side. The blanket teased sliding off his hips, his cum gutters on display for the room. You felt flustered, fully examining his toned body and soft skin.

Suddenly you felt your hair pulled into a pony tail from behind, snapped out of the hypnotized trance you were stuck in. You were pulled back and Harvey looked down at you, a pink bottle in his other hand. You maneuvered your body around to face him on the bed, your ass to Elliot.

Harvey had your hair grasped firmly, ever so slightly having your head tilted up to him, staring up at him through your lashes. His eyes were blown with lust as he tipped the pink bottle of life elixir to your plump lips.

"Say ah," he said, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he peered at you from over his lenses. Your jaw hung loose and your pink tongue slipped out, producing a small "ahh" for the doctor.

"Drink." He commanded with a sultry, deep voice, tilting the bottle and watching the sweet liquid flow down your throat, his hand still grasping your hair. You drank the medicine looking up at him, palming the erection growing in his pants. Harvey let out a small grunt, watching as your voice box bobbed up and down with each king gulp.

You felt familiar hands grab at your ass, a slender finger running up and down your folds before sinking deep into your wet cunt. You almost choked on the last bit of the medicine as you let out a whine, Elliot behind you.

“Seems like you need me, hmm?” He asked, his long finger curling inside of you and hitting your spongey g spot that had you dripping into his palm.

Harvey loosened up on your make shift pony tail, his large veiny hand unbuttoning his pants and opening up his zipper for you to admire his length from behind his plaid boxers. You quickly pulled both waist bands down his hips and watched as his member sprung out. You felt Elliot’s finger withdraw from your cunt, the sound of the sheet around his hips hitting the floor had you clench around nothing.

“Be good for me and open that mouth of your again,” Harvey instructed, his pornstache tilting as his lips were pulled into a cocky smirk.

You opened your mouth just like you did for the pink bottle, except this time the liquid seeping out was salty rather than sweet. His girth was rather hefty, your jaw already felt sore as he slowly pushed your head down his length using your hair as leverage. You let out a soft noise, tongue running along a vein that ran down the underside of his length.

Just then, you felt the smooth head of Elliot’s cock gently part you, eliciting a high pitched whine from the back of your throat. Harvey let out a gutteral groan, choking on his own reaction. He twitched in the back of your throat and the feeling sent a shiver down your spine as Elliot continued to thrust into you.

“Beautiful…” he sighed, his hands landing softly, yet firmly on your hips. He tenderly ran a hand along the small of your back, bending down to place a soft kiss at the base of your neck. He watched as you sucked off Harvey and nipped gently at your ear. You clenched around his length and the strained grunt he let out had you seeing stars.

Harvey’s eyes glazed over as he gently cupped your cheek in his palm, thumb caressing your cheekbone. Your drool dribbled down the length of his hard dick, his scent filling your lungs while you slowly began to get more comfortable with his cock. He watched as you kept getting more and more used to what you were working with, the agonizing pace had him throbbing inside your hot mouth, desperate for more. He lightly thrusted his hips deeper into you, stopping when he heard a soft gag. He let you move at your own pace, he couldn’t bare to stop the amazing progress you already made.

You finally took him balls deep in your throat, Elliot rewarding you with soft kisses on your neck while his own hips started to sway back and forth, cock nestling deeper inside of you.

“Such a good job.” Elliot praised, standing back up to join hands with Harvey above their heads.

The two looked down at you from opposite ends, their temples next to each other as Harvey watched Elliot’s cock disappear inside of you and as Elliot watched the way your soft lips wrapped around Harvey’s length. The moans filled the room, along with the sounds of gentle gags from your hollowed cheeks and wet, slapping skin against skin.

Each of Elliot’s powerful thrusts had you pushing up against the deliciously large cock in your throat, Harvey talking you through it.

“Don’t forget to breathe, I know it’s good but we can’t have you passing out on us,” he’d coo, before spitting out a dirty: “Take it, take it deeper… shit. The mouth on this one… fuck you suck some good cock.”

You felt so full, your senses crowded by the men who were using you from both ends. Insides twisting as you were made to be their fuck doll. You felt Harvey’s thumb on your cheek reassuringly caressing you, your drool pooling down your chin and onto your shirt.

“Look at you… such a dirty little farmer, aren’t you?” Harvey teased, his face red as you let him fuck your throat.

You felt your orgasm building up sooner than expected, with the view from the front and the sensation from the back you weren’t at all surprised. Your body felt molten hot, repeatedly whimpering around Harvey’s sensitive tip. Electricity ran through your spine, orgasm crashing over you as your tight cunt was being jackhammered perfectly by the man raw dogging you from behind. You arched your back as you came on Elliot’s cock, mewling desperately around Harvey, the taste of cum soon flooding your mouth as your struggled to swallow every drop.

“Shit- that’s it. It’s too good, I-I- ngh!” Harvey blabbered, cock pulsing as he flowed down your pretty throat.

You clenched around Elliot, lost in his own symphony of moans and delightful noises that echoed throughout the small office. He wanted to pull out but he couldn’t possibly tear himself away from your sweet pussy, thick ropes of cum shooting out from his hard cock and deep into your drenched, velvety walls.

You gasped for air when Harvey pulled out of you, he pulled his boxers and pants back up, buttoning them with ease as he walked to the other side of the bed where Elliot stood. Elliot slowly pulled out, both men ogling how the cum poured out of your soft cunt and onto your thighs, the wound from earlier before already looking better.

“Well Elliot, everything looks good.” Harvey said nonchalantly, picking up a few papers from his countertops. “I’ll send that allergy prescription over to Pierre’s if you want or I can send you a call whenever Maru gets back and you can pick them up here.

Elliot walked over to his pile of clothes on a nearby chair and began to dress himself. “Thank you, Doctor. I think I’ll go ahead and buy them at Pierre’s if that’s alright. I have a few errands to run over there already so it’s just easier that way.”

The two men conversed with each other as if you weren’t a shaken, fucked out mess right next to them. You watched as they talked about the prescription while you tried to settle down. After a few minutes Elliot walked over and kissed you softly on the forehead.

“I’ll be expecting those pomegranates,” he smirked with a wink, running his thumb along your puffy lips. “Come over anytime, you have my key.” He soon left and Harvey sat next to you on the bed, caressing your shakey legs and kissing you softly along your jaw. You hummed blissfully, bringing him in for a soft kiss on the lips.

“Your legs seem to be shaking, is this because of the slime or because of Elliot?” He asked knowingly.

“I-I think it was Elliot,” you blushed.

“Why don’t I give you a confidential check up, huh?” He asked, kissing your plush lips. You bit his lip and he let out a sigh, his glasses sliding down further.

“Lie down and let me take care of you,” Harvey instructed, hands unbuttoning his pants again and palming his already hardening member. “Doctors orders.”

AN: sorry this took so long i lost this fic in google doc, but it wasn’t in google doc ?? so i checked word ?!?!! not there either. turns out it was already in my drafts 💀💀

[aprilpowered]

charseraph and I collaborated on a couple of OCs in their science fiction universe, a Tower and a Human. They drew the lovely art of course while we worked together on the lore and design. Far Away(they/them) suffers from deeply held anxiety and paranoia due to a predator attack in their youth and their distance from other Towers. They lead a lonely, stressful life jumping at shadows when a group of human explorers, Research Team "Hollywood Ogre", practically stumble upon them deep in a biome not commonly inhabited by towers due to the cold climate and thick forests. They slowly establish communications with the nervous wreck that is Far Away, and through this they meet Maria(They/She), a tiny data technician and backup translator who is a night owl workaholic who doesn't get good sleep at the best of times. Maria has her own history of anxiety and bipolar disorder, and liked to spend nights after everyone else has gone to sleep talking to Far Away and sharing their experiences. Through this bond Far Away makes their first real friend and feels safe enough to fall asleep naturally, with Maria comfortably by their side. Research Team Hollywood Ogre soon develops into a research outpost, both to keep Far Away company and to learn from someone who has firsthand experience with this poorly understood biome. They start with relieving Far Away's claustrophobia by cutting out the forest into a clearing around the tower. This Research Post, 'Far Far Away' eventually becomes a hub for support for Towers and Humans who have their own mental health issues across the planet. Far Away and Maria may never fully recover, but they have come a long way, and that's good too.

[ataraxiaspainting]

Sweet Hibiscus Tea.

Yan Shalnark x F Reader.

Synopsis: After a day of finally trying to face your social anxiety, you walk home alone. The roads are empty, quiet, and eerie. But you are almost home now, aren’t you? You are not going to cry anymore. Just when you think life is starting to turn around for you, it goes in the exact opposite direction. 

Warnings: Yandere themes, violence, kidnapping, misogyny, not SFW implications, psychological horror elements, manipulation, panic attacks, Shalnark being an asshole, unhealthy relationships, and stalking.

Word Count: 5k.

Can be considered to be within the Hier Encore universe.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Look Who’s Inside Again by Bo Burnham

Things She Said by Chris Garneau

Baby Bride Rag by Roar

Butch 4 Butch by Rio Romeo

Appetite of a People-Pleaser by Ghost and Pals

Valentine, Texas by Mitski

I’m Yer Dad by GRLwood

Cry Baby by Melanie Martinez

Freaks by Surf Curse

Neighbour by Mother Mother

“You stay soft, you get beaten; only natural to harden up.” — Mitski, Stay Soft

*~*~*~*

Regardless of how much time has passed, this convenience store always remains the same.

There is always the familiar, tired face of the clerk behind the cash register, her gaze never on you or any other customer who walks in and out of the doors, a simple, muted hello being the only proof that she noticed you.

The lights dim and blink without fail, fading from white to a shade of daffodil to dark flaxen before disappearing and resurfacing yet again as alabaster. No matter how black the night sky is, the less-than-bright illumination never changes.

Neither does the rest of the scenery.

Next to the payment area are two vending machines, with one not functioning. It is dead, with the glass broken by a punch that left a large gaping hole in the dead center. Once when you accidentally touched the front wall while bending down to get your can of lemonade from the working one, it left a sticky residue that had you rubbing your palm on your sweater for what felt like an eternity. It somewhat helped, you guessed, but it also stained your clothes. The vending machine to its right was always out of most sweet drinks, often leaving you with the choice of coffee, lemonade, green tea, or water.

You don’t buy any snacks aside from strawberry Pocky and, if you are lucky, a chocolate bar.

But you do buy meals here because it is cheap. Usually fish with miso or a salad, but there have been times when you can find a premade sandwich.

The total cost comes to between 500 to 1000 Jenny. There is always a poster that claims the cashier is the employee of the month, though you are certain that she is the only one who works there.

The only thing that ever changes is the calendar behind her. The past dates are crossed out in red ink that is in the form of thick, scraggly lines. They remind you of the drawings you used to make as a child when your father was too busy screaming outside your door and your mother was too powerless to do anything but cry and yelp as he hit her. One time you drew them fighting, and when one of your maids saw it, it inevitably found its way to his desk.

Needless to say, he was not happy by any means.

*~*~*~*

The calendar behind the worker reads the 17th of April, 1998. On this day in 1985, your first and only ever friend, the head gardener’s apprentice, went missing. When you eventually gathered up the courage after waiting for hours outside, you went to your father’s room to ask where she was.

“She has been removed from the premises for distracting you instead of doing her job.” The answer you got was to the point, because when has he ever been warm to you? “I made sure that she had learned her lesson before she died. She was in pain the whole time. It was a shame to put a bullet between her pretty eyes. But at least she had a bit more use to me beforehand.”

You cried and cried until you threw up.

That is when your mother, the usual bandage over her left cheek this time, came in and sat on your bed gently, sadly.

She patted the area next to her and slowly you stood up from the floor where you kneeled as you sobbed and went over. She asked you if you wanted a hug and you said no. She responded with a simple nod, respecting your answer. But then what she said next turned your tear-stricken face into a glare.

“She’s alive.” She muttered, along with thanks to God and a hold of the cross on her neck. 

“...What?”

Your mother shushed you when she heard footsteps coming to the door. When the sound eventually leaves further into the hallway, she leans into your ear while pointing to your vanity. Your gaze leads you to the dusty cat statue made of garnet.

It got shattered a little while ago when a maid cleaning your room accidentally made it fall to the floor. You felt bad for her as she was a new hire, so you never told anyone aside from your mother. You knew that if your father, the head of this household, ever found out he would punish her severely, even when he did not care for the statue at all. You got to choose, if you were lucky, which part gets whipped or cut off.

“Yes.”

Her short answer leaves you almost jumping up out of your seat. “...Huh?”

“At last week’s banquet, she caught the attention of your father’s wealthiest business partner.” She turns to the curtains covering the lone window in your room, her back now facing you. “She was tricked into boarding a car when the driver claimed you were inside waiting for her. To the partner in question, she is nothing but another pretty face to add to his collection.”

At the slight turn of the doorknob next door, you two go as still as wax people in a museum. “Why did he lie to me?”

“Why? Well, he certainly did not want you rebelling against his decision.”

“But I have never rebelled against him before.”

“I know.” Your mother lets out a sharp laugh, salty and sour. “I know you are always trying to be good, trying to stay under the radar. I know, I know because you are a lot like me. but now I am going to teach you a lesson about your father and the world at large. Remember that a man’s resentful attitude will always result in a woman’s agony, physical or otherwise, always. However, when things go right for a man, a woman is either praised like a dog or ignored until something goes wrong because it is never enough.”

You can’t breathe. “But why? Why, why, why? What did I do wrong? What could I have done right?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing. There is nothing you can do or could have done. No matter what, your faults will always be found. That is how most men are raised, to find, and how most women are raised, to hide.”

“...”

“Men’s hearts are such cruel, small things. Oftentimes they can only fit themselves in them, but there have been times where even they cannot fit.” She is still holding onto the cross charm on her gold necklace, firmer than she has ever held you. “They are cold, are or are almost dead. There is no room for people like you and me. No room at all. All they see us as is something to own, something with no feelings whatsoever, and whose only purpose is to please no matter the cost. Such pigs, all of them.” She murmurs some prayers that you cannot hear. “I want you to be better. I want what is best for you, what I never have been able to accomplish; run and live.”

She opens the drawer beside your bed, and you don’t do anything to stop her. It is not like you can hide anything, from her or anyone else in this house. Whatever is buried eventually resurfaces. She pulls out your rarely used bible, a thick layer of dust on the leather cover. It smells and makes you cough. She doesn’t though.

“At least your father does not force you to read this day and night.”

“Mmhmm.”

“It is one of the few things I appreciate him not doing, I do not want you to grow up hating the church.”

“I know.”

“He has made you hate a lot of things already.”

She turns the pages, dust flying around the cold air.

“He made me hate a lot of things too. Blankets, steaks, cameras. The color white, the color black, the color red. The sounds of belts unbuckling, the sound of laughter, the sounds of doors opening and closing and locking.”

You don’t say anything, only looking at her hands. Only in the dark can you not see her scars, her blooming wrinkles, and the bruises that are always fresh. 

You don’t say anything, because you have learned from a very young age that you are her only listening ear. You are the only one who keeps her head on her shoulders. You don’t say anything, because she is right. He has made you hate plenty of things. But, but, but. But you can’t hate him, and you can’t hate your mother.

You can’t hate her, because who knows what she would do when she finds out that no one cares about her pain in this hell?

“Mother.” You mutter, putting your head on her shoulder as you scan the text on the page that she selected. She does not stop you. 

“Yes, [First]?”

“Do you hate me?” You ask, trying so very hard to not let her see the tears that threaten to come out of your eyes. “Because… because… if I wasn’t conceived, you wouldn’t be here hurting, would you?”

You could swear that you heard her heart skip a beat.

“...I would not be here, yes.”

She is honest, for once. You know at least some of this situation is all your fault.

“Do you hate me?”

“...”

“Mother, please answer me.”

You hear a sniffle as she starts mumbling the words written. “‘A gracious woman gets honor, and violent men get riches.’”

You choose not to press on the subject. You don’t want her to suffer anymore.

*~*~*~*

You buy an orange-flavored Ramune soda, a pack of pork ginger instant ramen, and strawberry Pocky.

The total would come to about 600 Jenny if your quick calculations are right. You could get something extra, like a topping for your ramen or some chips. But would it be wise? You have never been someone who finishes their plate after you had ran away, so what if you just waste your money?

So, you decide not to get anything else.

You walk to the cash register.

You hear an explosion from the back of the building. Small sparks of white and orange. The lights go off before you can place your chosen items down, and you can hear the employee cursing under her breath. The breaker. What happened?

“Damn it, I don’t get paid enough for this shit.” She grumbles, putting her thumb and pointer finger on the bridge of her nose, rubbing. “No raises whatsoever. Only one here. Without me, this place wouldn’t be working, ungrateful pricks.”

Fighting the way your heart rate shoots up, you decide that talking to her would be best. It wouldn’t hurt to talk to someone aside from your boss, right? 

Maybe your anxieties would quell, and you can eventually graduate to talking to your co-workers, that would be a dream come true for you.

You haven’t had a friend, a real friend, ever since Rose was taken from you all those years ago. You still cry whenever you think about her. You miss her. Is she dead, is she alive?

You still blame yourself. If only you hadn’t talked to her, maybe she would still be with you. What kind of adult would she have been? A kind one, a responsible one? You would still be friends at least, wouldn’t you? Or would she grow to hate you, if she didn’t already?

You keep telling yourself that she wouldn’t and didn’t, but that is not what your mind tells you.

Is she dead?

You could picture a rotting corpse six feet under. An unmarked grave. Glassy, dead, amber eyes looking upward to anyone who looks down, helpless, pleading. You always liked them, always complimenting them much to Rose’s shy chuckles. She was so pretty, that much was true. You could only imagine how beautiful she would have been as an adult.

Her looks were a personal gift from God, the heavens, and the angels.

But if she didn’t have them, would she not have been treated like she was in the estate?

“Erm, excuse me,” You mutter, taking a few steps forward. “If you want I can go check it out.”

It is what Rose would do. She always liked helping others. You just wish that people would have appreciated it more and seen past her appearance. It was a double-edged sword. It helped her become the head gardener’s apprentice but also caught the attention of both your father and his business partners. You felt bad for her, and still do.

The employee turns around, her confusion prominent despite the dark. 

“Erm,” You mutter, looking down at your hands and entangling your fingers in one another. You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks in embarrassment. “Is that okay?”

It takes a few moments to respond. Her surprise was unexpected, as you never spoke to her outside of asking her if she had change or telling her you hoped that she had a good night. Rose would be better at this kind of thing. You once had a dream that at a fast food joint, an adult her would order for you and correct the staff when they put pickles on your burger. It’s what could have been, funny moments like that. She had always been the one to take charge, you following her like a lost puppy.

You miss her so much.

So much.

The worker slowly nods. “...Okay.”

“...It’s in the back, right? The breaker.”

This is so awkward. Rose would be better. You wish she was here. Or your mother. Anyone.

“...Uh. Um… I like your eyeliner.” As soon as you say that, you curse at yourself, not wanting to sound like a creep. The woman’s confusion becomes even more prominent.

“...Thanks, and yeah, it’s in the back.”

“...Okay.” Jesus Christ. You turn away from her, the heat on your cheeks hot enough to be mistaken for a fever. This is not what Rose would have done.

“...You can leave your stuff here.” She says, and you quickly spin your heel and put your items on the counter. “It’s not like they are going to grow legs and run off, so relax.”

“...” You both chuckle, and you feel slightly better. “...Thanks. I’ll go now.”

“...” You start walking. “Wrong way.”

You stop.

It takes you a few seconds for you to move back to first base and go off in the opposite direction. As soon as you open the creaky steel door, strong rain and cold wind greet you, along with a loud clap of thunder and lightning.

Perhaps you could go back and get your umbrella from the stand by the door. But that would be even more awkward.

“Stupid. Stupid.”

“If we are lucky, the wind simply detached it or something. Not the best at this sort of thing, though.”

“I don’t think breakers detach.” You could picture her shrugging and scoffing at your murmur. “Sorry. Sorry. Just… sorry. I’m the best at this sort of thing either.”

You close the door behind you and start looking amongst the pitter-patter of the raindrops and gusts that nearly make you fall over. 

Stupid. Why do you make everything so weird? Rose would have been so much more charismatic. It was one of her strongest traits after all.

Stupid.

It’s hard to see. Trying not to trip over stones and cracked cement, you grip onto the wall and walk forward. Soon, you feel something.

“Ew, ew, ew!” You cry out, quickly moving your hand away from the slimy slug. “Ew!”

“You okay?”

“Uh, nothing. Just a bug. Yeah, just a bug.”

You hear a chuckle. Stupid.

“Sorry!” You exclaim, almost bowing your head. “Sorry! Really!”

Making sure you don’t touch the slug again, you keep moving.

Eventually, you find the breaker. But it wasn’t what you were expecting by any means. The damage almost looks like it was done on purpose, the way it was open and covered in soot. Did something get to it?

The breaker that exploded was a mass of melted metal that had been blown apart from the intense amount of heat and pressure. It was now barely recognizable as a single unit–parts of it scattered across the cement path and others having been fused and becoming something else entirely. The metal had been melted and blown upwards in the sheer force of the explosion, coating parts of the wall, wet grass, and roof with small, solidified droplets of metal. The ground around the remains of the breaker is burnt and scarred with traces of the immense fire that had consumed it.

It seems the rain put it out.

“No hope for this, huh?”

“Hey,” The employee calls out. “How bad is it? If there is nothing you can do, come back inside.”

So, you do.

The way she turns at you is robotic almost. A smile is on her face that was not there before. She nods when she sees you. Something tells you to not approach.

“It exploded into molten metal.”

“Oh well.”

Under the stormy skies, her gaze turns pale. Her eyes, seemingly captivating, lack any hint of vitality, while her lips curve in a disarming and saccharine manner. A shiver runs down your spine as you meet her gaze, every fiber of your being urging you to flee. Deep within your primal instincts, an innate awareness stirs, recognizing the smile as a charade, a mask of humanity that ventures into the realm of unease: akin to an artificial being adorned with synthetic flesh or a wax figure encased in glass. Those lifeless, white eyes, coupled with a forked tongue and an unsettlingly beautiful countenance, leave you with an undeniable sense of mistrust.

“You’re not mad? Really? Um…”

Something is off. What happened? She looks more like an imposter than anything else. But if she is, where did the real cashier go?

“Don’t worry.” She says, her voice oddly chipper and no longer confused by your awkwardness. “It’s fine. I’m quitting anyway, so it’ll be my boss’ problem.”

You turn your head. “Really?”

She nods. Something is off.

“Like really?”

You blink multiple times and you don’t think she does. She just stands there. Slowly, she nods. Something tells you to run yet again.

“Um… um… okay. Okay. I’ll just pay and leave. How much does it come up to?”

She shakes her head.

“Um. I have to pay. It’s thievery if I don’t.” You get closer. “It’s the law.”

“It’s fine.”

“I can’t just not pay.” You say, taking out your wallet from your sweater pocket. “That’s stealing. It’s wrong.”

Every action she takes is measured and precise, and she seems to move like a machine rather than a person. It’s as if she’s been programmed to act and talk in a certain way, and she doesn’t seem to have the ability to break out of that. She simply stares at you, not speaking.

Run.

You undo the metallic button, hearing the shuffling of paper Jenny within your wallet. “Um. Let me pay. Please.”

She simply shakes her head again.

“It’s fine.” The employee says, the smile still plastered on her face. There is quite more than a hint of blankness and detachment in her expression. She speaks in a mechanical and emotionless manner, her words delivered as though repeated from a script of carefully chosen sentences. Her movements are quick and precise, putting your chosen items in a plastic bag. There is no life or energy in her actions, instead, she moves like a mindless machine, performing her tasks before her without showing any personality of her own. Is it better to just accept it?

What should you do? What shouldn’t you do? Is she joking? Should you leave?

What would Rose do?

One of her hands grasps onto the plastic handles and she holds it out before you. There is no authenticity or warmth. Her eyes are blank. What happened? Should you ask? Should you just take the bag without saying anything further?

“Okay,” You murmur, obeying her silent command. “I hope you don’t get into any trouble though.”

*~*~*~*

Boss (9th May 1996 17:45)

Did you find anything?

Boss (9th May 1996 17:45)

Feitan found her heels nearby along with some blood, so she couldn’t have gotten very far.

You (9th May 1996 17:45)

Nothing yet

Boss (9th May 1996 17:47)

Try checking the stores nearby.

Boss (9th May 1996 17:47)

From the blood trail, she is most likely injured from running and trying to fix herself up in some sort of shelter.

Boss (9th May 1996 17:48)

She may have also discarded the rest of her clothes, not just the heels, and is currently wearing something else.

You (9th May 1996 18:15)

I found a dress and jewelry at the bottom of a lake

You (9th May 1996 18:18)

(image sent)

Boss (9th May 1996 18:20)

That’s it.

Boss (9th May 1996 18:20)

Disappointing. I’ll send over Pakunoda to ask people nearby.

You (9th May 1996 18:20)

K

You (9th May 1996 18:21)

Don’t cry, I’m sure we’ll find her soon :) 

Boss (9th May 1996 18:22)

I wasn’t crying.

Boss (9th May 1996 18:22)

I just thought she came around already.

Boss (9th May 1996 18:23)

This will set our heists back weeks.

Boss (9th May 1996 18:24)

She has planned this out for more than a year, it seems.

*~*~*~*

Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. You can’t hear anything else. The sounds sting your ears like an aggravated hornet. 

The darkness around you is solid, more so than the cracked, aged concrete path beneath your shoes. There is a tiny light in the distance; a streetlamp.

Silence.

“...”

“Have a good day!”

“...Thank you.”

Let there be light.

“Um…” You can’t see anything. The sounds… stopped. “...Time to go home.”

But the pain stays. 

It feels like a drill. 

It hurts.

“...” You feel deaf and blind. No, maybe something even worse. “...”

You turn around, to the dark convenience store, and you see the cashier still staring at you. “Have a good day!”

“...”

“[First]?”

…How does she know your name? Did you say it to her in the past?

When you look into the abyss, the abyss also looks into you.

“[First], dear.” She starts waving as you look at her. “[First]. [First]. [First]. [First]. [First]!”

There is nothing but emptiness. Is your name all she can say? What happened to her? It is like she has regressed. Like a storm cloud in summer, you do not wish for this pain. Now you feel deaf and blind and mute now. 

You almost wish that you were dead. All there is is pain. Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. 

Interruption. The sounds returned. Is this good? Is this bad? Does it matter at all? 

You walk. You don’t speak. Only walk. You can’t breathe. You can only move. Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. 

Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. 

A hand clamps over your mouth.

You drop the plastic bag from shock, and then you finally hear something other than those sounds; glass shattering.

“Sh…” A voice, calm, along with the smell of oranges. “It’s okay.”

“...!”

“Don’t scream.”

The touch of lips, a man’s lips, on your ear, thin and hard. 

“Breathe. Just breathe for me, okay?”

But you can’t. The wind goes down your throat. It is suffocating. You can’t breathe. You smell oranges and something rotting, blood.

It stinks. It fucking stinks.

Christ. Get away. That stink. That fucking stink. Your body rejects it by continuing to not breathe.

“Sh… Breathe. Just breathe, for me, for you, for us.”

“...St… Sto-”

“Sh…” The voice is sweet, not at all sour, like candy. “Calm down. Nothing bad is going to happen. Just breathe. You’re going to pass out.” The lips and the scent of his breath are like salted leather in a butcher’s shop, stinky and rotting. “Calm down. Don’t worry.”

“...Sto… Si-”

“Breathe. Sh… It’s okay. Breathe.”

“...Ge… Sti…”

“Sh… Breathe. Breathe, [First]. Breathe. [First]. Breathe. Breathe. It’s okay. Don’t worry about all this. Breathe.”

When you finally do, you gasp, desperate. “...Huff… Huff… Huff…”

Get off of me, I can smell you. 

“There we go!”

Your vision clears up a bit. “...Huff… Huff… Huff…”

“Just keep breathing.”

“...Huff…”

You can smell him. You can practically taste him, with his mouth so close to you.

“Whew! That was a close one!” The man exclaimed, wrapping his other arm around your waist.

Pain. Get off of me. I can smell you, I can hear you, I can taste you. Get off of me. Please.

The pain still stays, in your chest and your ears, and your head. Oranges. Blood.

Get off of me.

Please–

A pain in the back of your neck and you go limp.

Darkness. Then pain again. You can’t move. You can only breathe. Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. 

*~*~*~*

SAINTSHORE SPACE THEATRE

UNDER THE DIRECTION OF RANDOLF URASLEF, GRETEL JAMES, AND QUINCEY J. ORATICE

PAUL DONSHEL CELESTE BAKER   ANNE CROAKS

AND

THE GREAT COMET THEATRE COMPANY

SWAN LAKE

ADAPTED BY MUSIC WRITTEN BY PYOTR ILLYICH TCHAIKOVSKY

INSPIRED BY THE CHOREOGRAPHY OF JULIUS REISINGER

WITH THE WONDERFUL CAST OF

(IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE)

Odette, the White Swan………………………………………………………….JEAN YVETTE

Odile, the Black Swan……………………………………………………………...JUNO LILOU

Prince Siegfried……………………………………………………………(the name is illegible.)

The rest of the list’s names cannot be read just like Prince Siegfried.

“She is simply beautiful. Just so beautiful. Simply wonderful, perfect.”

As the spotlights ignite, their scorching beams engulf you, causing you to shield your eyes with futile resistance. The sheer force of the light overwhelms your feeble defense. An ethereal audience erupts with exuberant cheers, applause, and whistles, resonating from vacant seats. Champagne flutes collide, men erupt with hearty laughter from their very core, and women unleash piercing screams akin to banshees.

The temperature rises and the noise intensifies, repeatedly, enveloping you in a symphony of overwhelming sensations.

Onlookers casually share their thoughts.

“Get off the stage, we want to see the play, not some stagehand!”

“Boo!”

“Fuck off!”

You run off crying.

“Where is that Odile girl?”

You run into a dressing room. One used by a woman wearing a black dress. She is so pretty. Her long strawberry blonde hair falls off her bare shoulders, clearly just done with a flat iron. There is a burning smell in the air. Smoke. When her gold eyes meet yours, she marches towards you and slams the door shut.

You can almost hear sobbing coming from the other side. Cries.

“So lonely…” The woman mutters. “When will it ever be enough?”

The voice sounds familiar. Her eyes. Her hair.

Nostalgia. Memories you would much rather forget. The basement. The imaginary ripping of clothes and tears and men’s laughter.

“I can’t do this much longer…”

Someone else knocks on her door. You want to scream.

“Come out, dearest.”

The devil. Tall with curved horns and a forked tongue. You want to warn her. 

You want to save her. “I’m not going to harm you, I am going to make you happy.”

You are so focused on whether the woman opens the door or not that you do not notice what happens next until it is too late. A clawed hand on your mouth. A tongue licking your ear. Tasting your sweat. Your tears. Laughter. The rest of the world disappears, and the only one there aside from you is the one behind you.

Sh… Sh… Sh… Sh… Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. 

Get off of me. Please.

“Breathe. It makes things more fun for me.” The voice echoed like you two are in a cave.

You gasp for air, and the smell of blood and oranges fills your nostrils.

“...Huff…”

“That’s better.”

You turn around. There is a body of a man. 

But the scaled, furred, horrifying face of a demon.

“Good.” He says, smiling his sharp teeth. “Deep breaths, in and out, come on.”

You do what he says. He praises you again, you think. But you can’t hear it. Either that or you simply do not pay attention to it. What happened to the woman? 

“...”

“We should go.”

The woman. The devil, this other… thing.

“...Rose…”

The demon laughs.

“Wake up.”

*~*~*~*

The first things you hear come from a happy man’s voice. “My boss’ girlfriend ran away more than a year ago you see, and he’s been heartbroken ever since. I want to prevent that kind of loss from happening to me. Real pretty one, too! He didn’t expect it, but I don’t blame her. After all, she’s been held captive for more than a year, she had to try to escape eventually.”

…The first thing you feel is lace on your neck. A collar.

It does not tickle or hurt. It itches. 

A cold hand plays with it, and it almost chokes you. At your discomfort, the man laughs.

“You are so cute.”

Something metal is on the collar, and it blinks a small red light.

[pansear-doodles]

30 Days of Artihunter Complete!

Below the cut would be a side diary on the thought process of each day- how I felt during the time and what made me decide to draw the ship in that portrayal. It would also contain some deep thought messages of how I feel I suppose.

Day 1 revolved around me thinking quickly on this idea- that it is pride month and its their time to shine again. What is anything more appropriate than the first art style I drew Rain world in for the first day? I've thought of the roses of explosion spears.

I was feeling creatively driven on this day- wanting to use my painterly style but with not exactly my designs- I also want to mimic how they appear in the game more.

Purple, orange, yellow. Great colors. I'm a sucker for citrus and sunset palettes.

Was feeling lazy this day, but also experimental. Some people saw this piece and thought that the shelter is the tent- that's actually just the entrance. The "tent" is a carpeted roof to the entrance, and the two are enjoying the light rain or the start of it before they head in to the actual shelter. At some point in the future I should design more unique shelters and entrances.

Around the time, I was listening to The Cardigans. Sometimes Youtube gives me sped up versions where the thumbnail has a cute stuffed animal or character. It reminds me of the Sylvanian Family toy series. My very first Artihunter-related commission was the two in pretty dresses with the pups, so I was reminiscing on that too.

I was feeling sleepy so I wanted to draw the two comfortably. I think I was in the mood to draw a wrinkled blanket.

When a character kisses another, it leaves a heart. This is not usually lipstick but rather just an evident smooch mark. You might've seen a similar thing in the newest picrew. Yes- those are smooch marks!

Felt stylistic. Wanted to be different I think. This was the first daily artihunter piece Videocult retweeted. I'm not sure if they realized but whatever floats their boat. I was really fond of how people draw Artificer as this rough, scraggly, rat coyote thing, so I wanted to draw it my way.

It was at this point I realized my daily artihunter hasn't shown the one aspect of their relationship- that they both are fighters and relish on the violence. I drew them fighting a vulture because of Hunter's expedition: Birdwatching

I think... I was feeling sad this day. You'll see this pattern soon in the future days.

I was feeling violent. I wanted to draw gore for once.

I was browsing through twitter and found funny slugcat GIFs and drawings where the slugcat is shaped like some sort of long stringbean. This would be one of the few pieces where it involves another character unrelated to the two.

I think I was on a manic state this day- feeling silly.

Then the silliness crashed down from... something. As the days progressed, my anxiety attacks would worsen and be evidently consistent throughout (and as of writing I still have them, but to a lesser extent at least). This would continue until around day 26. But as of this day, I wanted to show my arti's caring side, comforting hunter.

Amidst an anxiety attack, I wanted to draw them as beans in reminiscent of the specific style of an artist whose small doodles make me smile and laugh.

I think I was feeling empty headed for ideas on this day, so I looked at the rain world art tags for inspiration- it just hit me that I could also draw other artist's depictions of artihunter, so I drew them in one of my styles. Maybe someday I will do more of this. I hope the other rw artists don't find this weird.

I've randomly thought of shovel knight and thought about how cozy the campfire cutscenes were. I wonder if shelters could have ventilations to warrant a campfire inside. It would be nice I think.

It was father's day. This is not a genderbent drawing- I just wanted to draw them in different colors and wearing cool ties, while receiving mugs that call them dad. That's about it. If you think about it, I think arti and hunter would get a maximum of four mugs per year for each- on mother's day, on father's day, on their birthdays, and on rain world's version of the winter holidays.

Butch sapphics/lesbians. I was humorous.

I was feeling upset and certainly riddled with the anxiety and restlessness. I just wanted to draw the family at peace.

I was curious on my friends' input on what prompt for this day, so I asked them what should the two be doing. Several of them gave different answers, so I combined all of them.

I was feeling terrible but I wanted to push forward with the daily artihunter. Their arms have bruises here but they're holding on- just like what I was going through that day.

Anxious, again. I wanted to draw them resting closely. I think I was touch starved.

I wanted to cheer myself up so I went around for memes on tumblr and saw one I found funny and could fit my vision (er- one of my visions) of the ship. I found the sunstone dialogue at the back to replace the dialogue of Hatred a genius move and I'm glad I cracked people up with that detail.

People seemed to like this one- I was feeling painterly that day. Arti's kids are part of their life, and now they're part of Hunter's. I think Hunter would be a great mumdad.

I think... It was around this time my anxiety attacks started to leak out and break open completely. There was a lot of buzz. I was restless. Uncomfortable. Spiraling. People left and right trying their best to comfort me, and then finally the people who helped me snap out of it out of reasonable concern and grips on reality. I'm quite ashamed of being that, but I think at this time, I finally learned how to slowly breathe again. I felt mellow. I drew them as tomatoes with iterator farmers.

I wasn't feeling sad. More like tired. I had school all day until late at night and I had no time to make the drawing, so I made something relatively simple.

I planned this prompt for a while- I wanted to draw them in their wedding wear. The complexities are the exchange of the simplicity for the day before. I at times still cringe at the wedding comics, but they were fuzzy. I think they should slow dance after everything they been through. I think they should hold each other gently until their next stressful moments come. I think they should be happy.

A round about way of compiling most depictions I have of the two. Its funny I always draw their anthro versions taller than the other portrayals, but thats the vibes. They all each have different ways of showing affection. They all each have different experiences despite being similar to one another. Yet they're all the same persons at the source.

Today was polarizing. There were a lot of things I did not expect. A rollercoaster of emotions. But somewhere in there of the today, even with the tears on my face, the throbbing headache and the shaking hands- I was happy. I should acknowledge that I have accomplished another of what appears to be another consistent art month, with absolutely no missed days. I wanted to make it off with a bang- something reminiscent of one of my first artihunter drawings. I shall rest, but I'll see everyone in the fields of Art Fight, where I will smile once more to hopefully live up to my prime and focus on what's important to me in drawing.

With pride month ending, I would like to thank my friends and the rw community for being supportive of my barbie playhouse. 5 Months went by so fast, so many episodes and mistakes but I march forward, evolving and fluctuating, learning. There were things that meant a lot to me and are significant that is considered otherwise by others.

Some people will look at this- all that I've done- think its crazy, maybe unhinged, think I have made them with the intent of malice. Maybe I have not done enough. Maybe I misrepresented them. Maybe I was too proudy or ignorant- perhaps all that was true and I didn't know about it until its too late. There is a certain truth in me that it difficult for me to explain to others and there are some things I think about that don't need sharing.

I wish I wasn't so sensitive to everything but me frolicking about with whatever I want to draw contradicts it. It makes me want to step down or run off to a new quieter place- a new account to disguise myself- but I know I can't let them win that way.

Maybe there are two or more people in me, all conscious. Or maybe I am indecisive and want to explore everything about thing because I love thing and I want to see it in all angles. Whatever I'm doing, I know its out of love and appreciation. I misremember even significant things. I lose myself, but I pick up the pen and draw because its the one thing I know best for myself.

I do not look for validation. I only look for peace. I only look to be comfortable knowing that I'm not making the opposite of peace. I only look to make myself happy.

To the people I've hurt on my journey, the people I've thought fondly of but also fear, the people who hurt me- thank you for being part of my stay in Rain World even if painful and I'm sorry for everything I've wronged you on.

To the people who brought light to me, who tolerated me, who were kind to me, who were patient to me, who didn't mind what and how I was, who encouraged me, who defended me, who talked to me, who shared memes with me, who were calm and honest to me, who acknowledge my flaws, who made me feel safe- thank you. Even if some of these moments were brief. Even if I don't know who or what you are on the other side. Even if something in the future may happen to us. I love you. /p

I say this all with genuine thoughts, and I hope I'm not being emotionally manipulative because I genuinely do appreciate this fandom and I'm grateful that lots of people in it are appreciative of me.

Thank you, again.

P.S. I have realized throughout this month I have worded the drawing artihunter everyday thingy wrong (oops) Well. At least know that I will continue to draw artihunter, and I do not think I'll get tired of the ship and drawing them anytime soon.

[lot-of-nothing]

Can I Call You Rose? (Ch. 1?)

Chessy x Reader

As the new viticulturist (grape-growing expert) at Nick Parker's vineyard, you fall for a certain nanny. (Post-Parent Trap movie I think)

Warnings: SOFT SMUT (with a little plot and romance)

You wondered if your fingers were going to go numb, or perhaps your heart would just explode first?

You had finally worked up the courage to kiss the auburn-haired beauty mere hours ago and now Chessy’s lips were finally attached to her neck. You had met during your first week as Nick Parker’s head viticulturist. Her warmth was magnetic and you always tried to find reasons to tend to the grapes closest to the house in case you could start a conversation with the nanny. You spent many afternoons together, flirting while she brought you her homemade lemonade or while you walked her around the rows of vines handing her grapes to try. Chessy always seemed to wear a smile when you were near, filling you with butterflies in return. You had been dreaming of this moment since you first met the beautiful woman and now you were filled with pure unfiltered anxiety. 

Chessy’s open mouth kisses to your throat and collarbone were unlike anything you had ever experienced. Were you supposed to crave her as much as you did? There was a fire ignited in the pit of your stomach that hungered for something that felt so forbidden.

As nervous as you were, you wanted more. You needed more. You wanted to feel Chessy’s hands setting every inch of your skin aflame… but the thrum of energy winding through every cell in your being had you wondering if you would have a panic attack or pass out before that could happen. 

“Hon… Hon? Honey!” 

You must have spaced out entirely as Chessy’s voice drew you back to reality. Next thing you knew, Chessy’s hands were now cupping your face, staring intently into your eyes. 

“Hm?” You hummed, your eyes brimming with tears as you felt like you could finally breathe again. You felt incredibly embarrassed that you felt that you couldn’t handle the physical intimacy. It was hard when you were so in love with Chessy and lacked the experience you thought necessary to please her.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” Chessy’s voice was just above a whisper. She was terribly worried that she had pushed the bounds of your relationship too far too soon. Little did she know that it would be your own slip up that would be the culprit of a ‘too much too soon’ relationship. 

“I-I-I…” You quickly stopped herself short, not wanting to make yourself cry.

“It’s okay… Wanna finish our movie, honey?”

You shook your head furiously, determined to push yourself through the anxiety and nerves.

“Honey…” Chessy seemed skeptical, her hands squeezing your cheeks. The extra bit of care Chessy showed was all you needed to lose your head, tears pooling in your eyes and spilling onto your cheeks.

You stared into your hands, trying to explain to Chessy why you were struggling to get through your anxieties. “I just… don’t- I just don’t know how to pleasure a woman…” 

“Tell you what. Come’re…” Chessy cooed, drawing you in so you could sit between the auburn beauty’s legs. From there Chessy gently caressed your arms, speaking in a firm but gentle tone. “I am going to turn on a different show and you are gonna sit right here and enjoy it, okay?”

You sniffled and nodded, reclining back in Chessy’s arms as an attempt at relaxing. A few moments passed of Chessy tapping away on her phone. The audio sounded off before you even comprehended what was playing, “I hope you are nice and wet for me.”

You certainly weren't expecting Chessy to stream a guided masturbation from her phone onto the television. 

Your cheeks flushed a deep red, “Wha-?”

Chessy’s hands fell to your sweatpants, pulling out the band a couple of inches as she spoke, “I want you to just relax. Just do what she tells you to, okay?”

Your hand was shaking as you pushed it into your sweatpants, never having experienced anything like a guided masturbation before. While daunting, it was incredibly hot.

The audio rang over the tv speakers once more, causing butterflies to swirl in your stomach, “Now, why don’t you see how wet you are for me? Slip your fingers in your panties for me.”

As you slipped your fingers in your underwear, you let out a whimper at first contact with your cunt. What else would you be in for with this nanny? What other tricks were hidden up her sleeves to drive you wild? 

Even though all of your building anxiety, you had grown incredibly wet from Chessy’s touch. You rolled your head back onto Chessy’s shoulder, earning a kiss to your temple as you did. Chessy’s voice was gentle in your ear, “You are doing so well, honey.”

The video instructed you once more, telling you to focus on your clit. Considering the pacing of the video, Chessy must have found a video long enough to help you relax, but short enough that she could find more involvement in your pleasure sooner rather than later. 

Doing as you were told, you circled your clit and felt yourself melting back into the auburn beauty’s arms. What you couldn’t see was Chessy’s smile as she felt the tension in your body fade. Her hands wound up your front, working your t-shirt up your torso to access your breasts.

The audio emanated from the tv was filled with the performer's moans, but you were becoming enraptured by the soft, encouraging hums from the woman behind you. Chessy’s hands drifted up and down your stomach, stopping at your breasts to give a gentle squeeze before shifting back down once more. 

“Let me hear you, sweetie…”

You bit your bottom lip and turned your face into Chessy’s neck, unsure if you were ready to be heard. 

Without a response, Chessy hummed disapprovingly, her hand slipping its way into your sweatpants and then underwear in search of your wetness. At the feeling of her fingers mingling with yours in your cunt, you withdrew your hand and dropped it to your side to allow her to take over. You couldn’t keep yourself from softly sighing at the feeling of her gentle fingertips working against your clit. 

“God, you are so wet…” Chessy whined at the way your wetness coated her fingers. 

You bucked your hips up into her hand, desperately wishing for this sensation to last forever. With her arms around you, fingers dancing around your clit, and her hot breath against your neck, your head was spinning. You couldn’t help but moan before blurting your thoughts to Chessy, “You- you’re so beautiful…” 

“Mmm… thank you, honey.” Chessy cooed, her arm winding around your waist to cradle you close as her fingers continued working against you. Your entire being was set aflame by Chessy’s loving embrace and skilled fingers. 

Your breathing rate was growing faster and faster, the coil in your stomach tightening as you grew closer to your orgasm. 

Chessy’s teeth nipped at your earlobe, tenderly nibbling as she added extra pressure as she circled your clit. Her voice came as a soft whisper, forcing warmth to spread across your face. “I can feel you getting close. You are so beautiful when you fall apart like this for me.” 

“Fuck, I love you~” You exhaled, not registering your words while your hands clung to her forearm. 

Sadly, you were too lost in the throes of your eminent orgasm to notice her lack of a response. She only nuzzled you with her cheek and held you tight as your orgasm washed over you.

Your back arched and your hips thrashed, unable to contain yourself. Your eyes squeezed shut and you let out a lengthy moan, trying to enjoy every ounce of the orgasm Chessy guided you through. 

Chessy sighed with a soft smile and withdrew her hand from your pants. She was trying to ignore her own anxiety building from her lack of response to your omission of love. While she felt she loved you as well, it all felt like too much too soon. In years past, she had dove head first into relationships and had only been burned in return. She had no intention of ruining your relationship over the omission of her own feelings. 

“How do you feel?”

“Mmm… good.” With a deep breath, you roll over in her arms, pressing your cheek near the base of her sternum. You tucked your hands under her wide hips and enjoyed the feeling of your bodies pressed together. “How do you feel about me returning the favor?”

Chessy pushed her anxieties deep down, not wanting to ruin a perfect moment. She had been falling for you since you started at the Parker estate. “Maybe in the morning…”

“Are you sure? I would love to-”

There was that word again. It made Chessy’s stomach drop. 

“No. It’s really okay. We could just… finish our movie.”

She seemed curt in her reply. It lacked the typical warmth you always received from her. It made you terribly self conscious until her hands wandered to the skin of your back, drawing loopy circles with one hand while her other turned the tv back to your movie.

“Mmm… you better be careful or I’ll fall asleep.” You murmured, testing the waters of how likely it would be for you to spend the night with the nanny. 

“Whatever shall I do. I would hate for someone so cute to be in my bed when I woke up.” Chessy was being incredibly sarcastic, her hands continuing to scratch your back in lazy loops. 

You allowed your own hands to wander her hips and thighs as a different form of self-soothing. You obsessed over the soft dips of cellulite and the slopes created by the widening of her hips. Her baggy clothing hid the curves you wanted to memorize through all of your senses. 

Chessy’s eyes drifted shut as she pushed herself to enjoy your loving touch. It was hard for her to accept such unadulterated affection, but she desperately wanted to try. It felt so good for her to be wanted and desired, but the vulnerability required for a deep and meaningful relationship lurked in the back of her mind. 

[pey-hey555]

Your the reason.

Summary:Your bestfriend just so happened to be visiting at your house while your parents started to argue out of nowhere.

Warnings:Yelling and reader has a panic attack

You sat on the soft mattress of your bed, shoulders slightly slumped while you fiddled with your thumbs, staring down at the carpet floor of your bedroom. You felt bad, yet embarrassed.

Your parents were currently arguing downstairs, yelling at each other and throwing stuff around.

“Well what?! How can you not fucking remember?!” Your mother yelled angrily. “REMEMBER WHAT?!” Your father shouted with such venom, Hitting the side of his fist against the wall of the living room as it echoed throughout the house, making you shake.

Leon was sitting on the edge of the bed like you were, right beside you. He noticed the discomfort you were clearly showing while his head was slightly turned towards you, Sitting in the heated silence. Finally, Leon decided to get up, quietly walking over to your bedroom door that was in front of you two as he slowly closed it. With that, The yelling sounded faint.

The blonde haired boy then turned around, only to see that you were now cupping your face with both hands, quietly sobbing into them. His gaze softened with such sadness and hurt to see you in such a weak state, a state that was often caused by the arguing of your parents. You were overly exhausted and felt like a burden to your parents, just the thought of that caused you to start hyperventilating, weakly putting yours hands into your knees while slightly bending over. The hurt in your heart was unbearable and your mind felt hazy with how much you were shaking from the anxiety caused by the yelling and by second, your heartbeat increased intensely causing you to have shortness of breath.

This was the first time Leon seen you like this but he didn’t waste any time to sprint over to you, quickly dropping to his knees as soon as he stood in front of your sulking presence. You only tried to hide your face from him but he gently cupped your wet cheeks with the palms of his hands, forcing you to look at his pitiful eyes. “Hey, Hey, Hey. Look at me, It’s alright.” He says calmly but somehow you could still hear the panic in his voice, only because he was awfully worried for you. You scanned his face through your blurry eyes which was caused by the tears and panic, Finally meeting his eyes, slightly breaking through the hazy feeling. “Breath Y/N, Breath. It’s alright, I’m here, I got you, I got you.” Leon repeated, Caressing his calloused thumbs against your red tear stained cheeks.

You nodded your head, Building up the forced courage to stop breathing through your nose which was a bit hard. You couldn’t seem to open your mouth but that came to an end when Leon drew your attention back to his, making you stare into his eyes once again. “It’s okay, It’s okay. I’ve got you, Just breath, You can do it.” He says with a bit of panic, Nodding his head slowly. Suddenly, You felt your hearing coming back after everything sounded faint. “Yeah there we go, Your doing good. Just keep breathing, just like that.” Leon says, assuring to you that your getting better with the most soothing voice. “I-i’m sorry-I didn’t-You shouldn’t have to hear them like that, i just-i just panicked, i’m so sorry, i-i really am” You stuttered with a panicked voice while he still held your rosy cheeks, not bothering to stop caressing your cheeks with his thumbs.

He shook his head, furrowing his eyebrows with puppy eyes. “No, No, don’t apologize, You shouldn’t have to. It wasn’t and isn’t your fault, Don’t apologize.” He reassured, Trying to keep your gaze on him and him only. “C’mon pretty girl, I’ve got you, i’m here, Just lay down. It’s alright, It’s alright.” He says under his breath softly and the nickname he had just given you made your heart flutter with an instant, Almost pulling you out of the weak panicked state. With one last deep breath, you nodded your head with a quick sob as you laid down, Turning around to your side while Leon pulled the soft blanket over you.

“Your okay….Your okay…” Leon quietly cooed, Walking around the bed to hop into the sheets with you. He watched your eyes with a soft gaze, laying on his side as well. “Thank…Thank you.” You finally let out, Feeling comforted by him, a feeling you’ve yearned for this whole time. Your parents were still unfortunately arguing tho, making the hair on your body stand up while you squeezed your eyes shut. “Shh, Don’t listen to them.” He told you, putting his hand onto the side of your face, Gently putting a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Here, c’mere.” Leon says, Getting closer to you as he wrapped his arms around you, positioning you so that your head could lay flat onto his chest. His arm snaked around your neck gently, Letting his hand sit onto the back of your head. Leon’s other hand was just hugging around you, Rubbing your back. “Is this okay?” He asked, Making sure that you don’t feel uncomfortable.

Right after he asked that one particular question, you quickly nodded your head. “Yes…” You confess while your hand rested against his shoulder blade.

The two of just stayed like this, enjoying one another’s presence, never wanting to let go. The body heat was radiating from his body, creating a feeling you’ve never felt before…True comfort. Your ear was pressed against his chest, Falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. After a while, Leon had fallen asleep as well, Keeping you close to him.

[drewsbuzzcut]

Fight Or Flight

college baseball player!drew starkey x fem!reader

a college baseball au blurb

warnings: panic attacks, anxiety, reckless driving, mentions a car wreck, fear, angst

You are on your way home from Drew’s baseball game, a bad baseball game, when it happens. He wouldn’t mutter a word to you, only grabbing your hand and leading you to his car. The drive is even more silent, tension filling the empty space. You know he’s upset, but you’ve never seen him like this before. Granted you have only been together for 9 months. His hands have a deadly grip on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white and his veins bulging. You start to notice the way his chest starts rapidly moving up and down. His breathing is speeding up, becoming erratic.

“Drew, what’s wrong?” You ask softly, your hand attempting to card through his hair, but he jerks away from you causing you to flinch in return.

You have to force your hands to not reach out again. You didn’t want to make him even more upset.

His driving speeds up, your body becoming tense with nerves and maybe fear. Your eyes take turns looking at the road ahead of you and the boy beside you.

“Drew, slow down,” you say warily, gripping onto your seatbelt while your legs start to tense up.

He doesn’t hear you, just continuing to push on the gas.

You scream his name in shock, trying to not cause anymore distress but also trying to not get in a wreck.

“Drew, please!” You plead, tears gathering in your eyes and your voice getting scratchy.

He turns to look at you and when he sees the fear swimming in your eyes, he speeds off to a stop on the side of the road. You grasp onto the dashboard, willing yourself to calm down. Drew exits the truck with haste. He’s pacing in front of you, hands pulling at his hair.

You get out of the vehicle, not knowing what to do, or how to calm him down. You situate yourself to lean against the hood of the truck. You’ve never witnessed him like this before. If you are being honest, it is really scary.

“I’m sorry,” he finally breaks the awful silence, tears falling from his eyes.

You open and close your mouth, not knowing what to say. Your eyes plead with him to stop pacing and to take a deep breath. His panic makes your panic worse.

“What happened?” You ask.

“I- I can’t do this. The pressure is too much. They all want everything to be perfect, but I’m not perfect, y/n!” He rants, hands further expressing his words.

“The game was absolutely shit. I was shit. I tried my hardest and I was still shit,” he screams out, making you flinch again.

You refrain from looking at him, knowing that if you looked at his broken down state, you’d just start bawling your eyes out. You see the tops of his shoes come into vision. You feel him hover over you. It’s not intimidating, but begging for your touch. You look up, witnessing the storm in his perfect, blue eyes. He’s gasping for air. It’s enough for you to wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him into the comfort of your body. His face finds home in your neck, hands placed on the center of your back, keeping you pressed to him.

“It’s okay, baby. I promise everything is going to be okay. I know this game was tough, but like you said, you tried your best. You have to drown out all the unnecessary noise. Please don’t let it get to you,” you soothe him, softly whispering in his ear.

“I know,” he sniffles.

“You really scared me in the car. Maybe you should try seeing a therapist to sift through all the anxiety,” you say, trying not to come off as pushy or judgmental.

He just breaks. All the pressure breaking him into a shell of himself. The harsh sobs rack through his body. He trembles in your arms, saying sorry as if it were a mantra. He really didn’t mean to scare you, he just couldn’t find his way out of all the negative thoughts.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Please. Please,” he cries, tears wetting the skin of your neck. His hands are gripping the material of your hoodie that belongs to him.

“Please? Please what?” You ask, confusion replacing the fear in your body.

“Please don’t leave me. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. You shouldn’t even be with me; I just put you in danger. I’m a terrible boyfriend,” he blurts, separating himself from you. It’s almost as if your touch burned him, and that hurt you.

You attempt to walk towards him, but he quickly backs away, holding out his hand to stop you from continuing. He shakes his head, tears welling up in his eyes again. You see the way his body is starting to cave on himself, he is hurting and he isn’t letting you help. You rush to him, wrapping your arms around his waist even though his arms stay frozen at his sides. You rub his back before grabbing onto his cheeks, dragging his face down to meet yours.

“Listen to me, yes, you scared me, but I’m fine. You just had a panic attack. I’m not scared of you, and I’m not in danger anymore. I love you so much, you know that,” you whisper into his ear.

“Let me drive us back to yours. You need to shower and rest, cowboy,” you say, feeling his body go lax in your hold.

The drive home is silent, but free of panic.

Arriving at Drew’s dorm room, you lay in his bed, waiting for him to come out the shower. When he does, he quickly climbs into bed next to you.

He’s staring at the ceiling, on his back and you’re facing him while on your side. Once he connects his eyes with yours they starting watering again. You notice the way his chest is starting to heave again. You scoot closer to him, grabbing his hand and placing it over your heart. The consistent thumps calm him down. You let your hands massage his scalp, putting him to sleep. You rub your nose against his, telling him how much you love him and how you’ll always be there for him.

a/n: A little on the heavier side, but I just wanted to show how strong their relationship has been since the beginning. Hope you all enjoy!

taglist: @maybankslover @91vhs @sp00ky-spr1te @livsters @seris-circle @one-sweet-gubler @a06e @tiacordelia02 @ijustwanttoreadlols @a23starkey @cameronmedia @mutual-mendes

[archie-sunshine]

I came off anon to offer you a scribble of a crusty 27year old Catified Megatron, who’s got several generations under his name, Blind, going deaf, nolonger has claws, sleeps for 21 hours a day and when he IS awake he’s a menace to society. He’s just old, covered in scars, and has to be washed in a sink, muzzled and he has to have booties on because he wont wash himself and despite being old he’s big.

Ignore how i drew this right after an anxiety attack and while eating oreos.

this is so important to me-

here's big megatron laying on his tiny housemate rodimus