#I’m so tired and anxious and I don’t want to really get into the self harm talk but I’ve had some serious self destructive thoughts lately | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

laiiaaa · 9 months

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SARDINES — CARMEN BERZATTO

summary Carmen seems a little off when you visit him, and you try to figure out why. For once, you pry him open.

length 3.2k

contents angst, hurt/comfort, he's really an angel even if he's closed off n stubborn, very very emotional, lots of negative self-talk from Carm, he cares so so much, relationship talk, everything resolves in the end dw <3

It takes more than a few knocks for Carmen to open the door. If you counted correctly, it took six tries, plus a phone call. So you shouldn’t be surprised that when he finally does open the door, he barely gives you a kiss on the cheek and mumbles Hey before turning his back to you again, back in the kitchen with his phone face up on the counter. He’s antsy, almost talking to himself, checking his phone every five seconds.

You walk in and lock the door behind you as you take off your shoes, and you drop your bag on the coffee table, which houses little else other than a remote and a day-old mug with coffee staining a ring in the bottom. “…Everything okay?”

He leans into the counter with his weight on his hands and spares you a glance and a haphazard nod. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine—just waitin’ for my guy to call back.”

“Isn’t it a little late for that?” Sitting down on the couch, part of you expects him to join you without being asked. Your back and feet ache, and all you want is for Carmen to lay with you, ease his hands up and down your spine, and watch the first thirty minutes of a random film before falling asleep.

“No, no—he usually answers when I need ‘im.” But he’s working. He’s at home, and you’re waiting on him, but he’s working. He seems to be prioritizing that a lot lately—a lot more than usual, at least. Running a hand through his hair, he watches the screen again, and mutters to himself, “Thirty fuckin’ minutes. Fuck you.”

You peek over the back of the couch. “Are you sure everything’s okay? You sound upset.”

“Yeah, baby, I’m—fuck this—” He derails from answering and instead picks up the phone again, calling and letting the dial tone ring out the second time this hour. He waits with his hand on his hip and his lip tugged between teeth.

You know ‘his guy’ doesn’t pick up when he drops his phone on the counter again with a sigh and another muffled profanity. “Carm?”

His head rests between his hands, but he lifts it to look at you. “Yeah?”

“Can you come sit with me, please?”

God, how you tug on his heart strings when you ask, your voice all sweet and dripping honey, you make it impossible to resist. “‘F course, yeah,” he answers, pocketing his phone and turning off the kitchen light before joining you.

He loops an arm over your shoulder as he presses his lips to your temple, and his heart skips a beat or two when you snuggle into him with your hand splayed against his chest. The two of you stare off at nothing in particular, soaking in the touch of the other. You smell so distinctly like you—like home—he’d be getting lightheaded in the best way if he weren’t so…so caught up in everything you help him escape: work, the fringe family, being so dead tired that in his mind he can’t tell where his kitchen ends and the fire begins. But that phone call he’s waiting on. It’s poking needles in the nape of his neck.

You sit up after a couple minutes, keeping a hand planted over his heart when you look at him. “I can literally feel how anxious you are.” He scoffs, but before he can protest you add, “Seriously, Carm, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s—everything’s just…” He looks off into nowhere behind you, his free hand making circles in the air like the words will fall into his palm if he tries hard enough. He stumbles for a few moments until he looks you in the eye again, a bit pained when he tells you, “Everything’s fine, baby.” The arm that was hooked over your shoulder is now curled around your waist, and his fingers, rough and scarred, trace meaningless shapes into your back, teasing beneath the hem of your top. “You don’t have to worry ‘bout it, alright?”

You’re unconvinced. You shuffle your hips around to straddle his, placing your hands on his shoulders with your thumbs carefully massaging the sides of his neck. Like clockwork, his hands take purchase of your waist, and he brings one to slide down over the curve of your ass before smoothing circles into your thigh. He always seems to speak to you in this way—maybe about as much as he tells you he loves you through his food—the physical connection much easier to manage than trying to crack open the rock-hard shell in his chest.

You lean into him a little more, your back arching ever so slightly. “You know I want you to keep me in the loop. What’s the guy for now?”

He sighs. “It’s just—shit with the stoves ‘n it’s messin everyone up, the kitchen’s basically a fire hazard, ‘n I really need him to answer his damn phone before something…” He shrugs. “…Before something just, I dunno, blows up, I guess.”

“Well, nobody’s even in that kitchen right now, so no explosions just yet.” You eye him for a moment, biting at your lip in contemplation when he doesn’t smile quite like he usually does at your drier jokes. “Is there something else bothering you?”

His brows furrow. “No, no—why, why’re you askin’ it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like, like…” He shakes his head as if it pains him to consider it. “Like there’s somethin’ wrong with me, or, or somethin’ I’m hidin’—”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Carm, c’mon.” Your voice goes softer, hands a little gentler as you cradle his jaw in your palms. “I just want you to let me in.”

He takes a deep breath through his nose. “You’re always sayin’ stuff like that,” he mumbles, and you can feel the vibration of his voice through your hands through to your heart.

“Because I mean it.” The AC whirrs nearby, almost muffling your words. “I want you to tell me about the things that bother you. I would never judge you.”

You’re so tender with Carmen, he thinks he could melt into a puddle on the floor, left to seep into the floorboards and through the ceiling of his downstairs neighbor. And he feels the words bubbling to the surface, the emotion pooling, red-hot behind his eyes, an answer burning at the back of his throat and clawing through his chest rough enough that the kisses you scatter from his cheek, to his jaw, to his neck do little to aid his wounds. But when he answers you, it’s tame. “I do tell you about things.”

“You do, but…” You wrap your arms around his neck and nuzzle into the space between it and his shoulder. “I’m just thinking about this game I used to play when I was a kid, sardines.”

His head tilts back against the back of the couch, and your breath dances along his skin while his hands smooth along the bumps of your spine. “Sardines?”

“Mhm,” you hum, “It’s kinda like…hide and go seek, but reversed. One of us would hide, and when someone found us, they’d squeeze into that spot too. And I remember being terrible at it, because we’d be making faces at one another in our little hiding spot, and I could never stop giggling, and I’d just expose everyone too soon.”

He chuckles quietly to himself. “I can picture that, you laughin’ while shoved in a closet.” His fingertips trace your shoulder blades.

“Pretty much how it went. Always too loud.”

“But I like hearing you laugh. I—I always feel better…gettin’ to see you all happy.” He’s thinking he got a little too caught up in the moment, and before you can say anything back, he asks, “What were you thinkin’ about the game, then?”

“It’s a little stupid to say it out loud,” you start.

“‘S not stupid, promise.”

You pause, hesitant. “…Okay.” One quick kiss to his neck before you continue, eyes closed to sink into him, “I just like to think that, eventually, you’ll let me in like…like it’s a game of sardines, or something. That I’ll just…squeeze in right beside you, and—and you’ll let me be there for you without pushing me away.”

He hums, low and drawn out to give you a beat to breathe.

“Sometimes I just want you to tell me what it is that’s bothering you, just to…make it easier on you a little bit, knowing someone’s in your corner. Just to be there.” Your fingers twirl into his messy curls and scratch at the nape of his neck the way he likes, and his silence drags on long enough to make you anxious.

But Carmen, too, is anxious. His chest is tight, his hands fidgety, and he’s sure—he knows, he feels it in his gut—that he needs to say something, anything. But he can’t find the words. They swirl in the back of his mind, and he can taste them crawling to the tip of his tongue, but they never become clear. They lurk where he can’t see them, and he keeps his thoughts on lockdown for you, because he’s been convinced along the way somehow in his decades of living that it’s easier, for him, if he keeps the softer parts stowed away, never to be seen again. He’s starting to think you’re trouble, that you make him softer where he grew to be tough. So it’s muffled and covered by his palms smoothing up your waist when he asks, “Sit up for me a bit, baby?”

And you listen, of course, because really you’re thankful he didn’t kick you out by now. Your vision is blurry from tears pooling in your eyes, but his hands—so, so gentle, the touch barely there like he thinks you could break—cup your jaw and urge you a little closer, his thumbs stroking your cheeks and wiping away stray tears. The two of you gravitate closer until your noses brush by one another and you exchange breath, until he leans into you and slots his lips against yours. He’s hesitant and careful, he doesn’t know if it’s quite the right thing to do or if it’s says what he needs it to, but when you prop your hands against his chest and kiss him back he knows part of you needs it like he does.

Both of you need it—that silent exchange, emotions spilled between sweet kisses and kind hands. So you stay that way, with Carmen’s hands holding you close to keep you from running away, and yours answer back I’m here, until he pulls away, eyes closed, to rest his forehead against yours.

He keeps himself blind when he whispers, “I know…” You can tell he’s mulling over his thought, so you wait for him to add, “I—I know, that you’re in my corner. An’ I want you there, alright?”

You try to soak in the feeling, so close and seemingly getting closer, a little breathless from his kisses as much as his words. “Alright.”

“I just—I just get so, so stuck in my head that I…” He swallows. “I can’t tell half the time if there’s anything even worth sayin’, I’m just spaced out ‘n…going fuckin’ crazy.” His brows furrow against yours. “I’m not used to stuff like this.”

“I know.”

His hands rest along the curve of your face a little firmer when he suggests, “But I can try—to, to, uh, tell you things, to let you in, or, or however you put it—I—” A deep breath. “I’m so fuckin’ bad at this, I’ve never done this, but—but I’ll try, for you, alright? You tell me, an’ I’ll try for you.”

You nod against him.

“Fuck,” he hisses, “I just—it’s just—I like this, y’know? Being with you, I like what we have, I—I like doing this, and—I wanna…I wanna make you happy. The same way you do for me…” He goes quiet and shakes his head a little, anticipating his next words. “I don’t wanna fuck it up.”

You can’t fight the smile that pulls at your lips, even if it is bittersweet. “You aren’t gonna fuck it up, okay? Being with you already makes me happy. I know you’re trying.”

“But trying isn’t…it’s not always enough, an’ I know in some ways—in a lotta ways, probably, I’m not…I—I’m not the best at saying things, an’—shit, am I—am I saying too much—?”

“No, Carm, no. I want you to keep talking.” You take his lips in another gentle kiss, your stomach whirring warm and content.

“I don’t really know what to say, or—”

“It’s okay,” you coo. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but…if there was something else bothering you earlier…you can tell me.” You pull back a little to really look at him, running your fingers through his curls and making him gently close his eyes. “And I’ll just say okay, and then we can move on. I won’t say anything unless you want me to.”

He hums with his eyes still closed, his mouth in a smirk. “Mm, like sardines.” It’s a little snarky when he says it, but when his thumbs brush beneath your top, you know he’s just thinking over his options.

“Yes, like sardines.” You’re a little embarrassed, but also a little thankful that he followed the bit.

He waits for a few moments, just breathing, letting you smooth your hands through his hair and over his shoulders and down his chest. It’s calming, he realizes—simply existing in the same space, careful touches and brief kisses. He runs his palms from the back of your waistband to the plane between your shoulder blades and presses gently, urging you to lean against him once again. When your head rests against his chest, he takes in a deep breath through the nose and out the mouth. He watches the ceiling.

“There’s…” Another pause. “It’s not just the stove that’s botherin’ me.”

You don’t answer him, not even a hum to acknowledge he’s said anything, and he realizes that you were serious about the whole ‘not saying anything’ bit.

“I…fuck, I don’t even know how to say any ‘f this. I think…I think I’m just freakin’ out about…about everything. The restaurant…you…” There’s a long, heavy pause, a shaky breath. “An’—an’ that’s it, really, besides family I guess—which is really fuckin’ pathetic when I say it out loud.” A sniffle. “Real pathetic. But all I’ve had is fuckin’…fuckin’ cooking, an’ working, an’ dealin’ with my family ‘n fuckin’ Richie all my life—” His chest gets, tight, a hand leaves your back to run over his mouth. “God, an’ I am so fucked up,” he laughs.

You were already crying before, and the tears keep coming, streaming from your eyes to your cheeks and staining Carmen’s shirt. You’re not sure whether he even realizes.

“I’m fucked up, and you’re just—you’re so perfect, compared t’me, ‘cause you’re all smart, an’ you always know the right thing to say ‘n how to say it, an’ you’re just in a completely different world sometimes, an’ I want in—I wanna be able to do things for you, all of it, but—” He needs to catch his breath. He needs water. He needs sleep. His throat is sore and scratchy, he feels his pulse pounding in his forehead. “I’m just…scared…that—that I could fuck you up, too.”

His chest expands beneath you, and you’re shaking, biting at your lips to stifle sobs. Part of you wants to sit up and hold him close, tell him that he’s the perfect one and you’re anything but, that all he’s ever been is made for you, that maybe he is fucked up, but you don’t care because you love him all the same—you love him.

Carmen isn’t used to this reaction. He’s used to explosions, yelling, screaming, pointing fingers with hot tears, saying what he shouldn’t, saying what hurts, guilt smacking him across the face for years to come. He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. He feels your trembling and holds you that much gentler.

“Baby,” he starts, “Hey, lemme see you, you’re shaking—” He tries to peel you from his torso, prodding at your sides until you wipe at your eyes and sit yourself up. His hands reach to hold your wet face. “What—what’s wrong?”

You push his arms away. “Sardines, Carm.” You try to stay true to your word—that you’d take what he says, and only store it away—but you’d be lying if you said you’re not struggling to keep more tears at bay.

“I want you to talk to me. You said you’d talk if I wanted you to, I—I need you to talk to me, c’mon, please—”

“This is so wrong—I’m the one who should be comforting you—”

“Hey, hey hey hey—” He smooths a hand over your hair and presses kisses to the tear stains on your cheeks. “That doesn’t matter to me. That doesn’t matter to me, alright?” He holds you steady, waits for you to meet his eyes, and when you look at him, it’s like he can see right through you. His thumbs brush away your tears, and your breathing settles.

You sigh, your hands moving from his chest to his shoulders. “We’re such a mess.”

Carmen shakes his head, mind full of you as his eyes trail the contours of your face, the plush of your lips when your teeth bite at them. “Wouldn’t wanna be with anyone else.” His hands touch your waist again and ease you into him, buzzing with your soft curves in his grasp. It’s more than therapeutic, he thinks. Life-sustaining might be more accurate.

You nod, and your fingertips graze along his cheekbones before you plant a soft, yearning kiss to his mouth.

He kisses you again because he can’t help himself, and he might be too scared to look you in the eye when he says it, but eyes closed or not, he means it. “You’re so good to me.” His arms wrap around you again, addicted to feeling your weight beneath his skin, and he presses his lips to your jaw. “So fuckin’ good to me,” he repeats, lower than a whisper like it slipped by without thinking.

You card your hands through his hair, messily beautiful, and answer, “You deserve someone good,” just as quiet as he is.

He swears his heart stops, and his lips trail from your jaw down to your neck. “You’re too good to me,” he says again, with a bit more honesty in the change. He knows you, so he already knows what you’re going to say, and that any other time he’d deny it.

You hum, a warm smile curling the corners of your mouth as you pull him closer to your chest, grazing your lips by his hairline for a gentle kiss. “No such thing.”

And for the first time, with his arms wrapped tight around your waist with a gentleness reserved only for you, and with your body slotted against his, he really starts to believe it.

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ecoamerica · 23 days

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jennifer-jeong · 2 months

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[Fluff + Slight Angst] [Zayne x Reader] A Cure.

CONTENT

Zayne has trouble sleeping after overtime and you’re the only thing that helps ): Gender neutral reader, established relationship, kisses, hugs, slight angst, mention of previous patient deaths, mentions of guilt, mentions of nightmares + insomnia, mostly fluff, taking care of sleep deprived boyfriend, CHARACTERS ARE 18+

AUTHOR NOTES

I finished reading his anecdotes and I’m in shambles. Hubby is traumatized. One of his affinity level up quotes is “you are the only treatment for my nightmares” and I didn’t even know he had nightmares until I read the anecdotes and now I’m just in pain. I will probably also write about the parallel version of him, his dawnbreaker self, because he deserves some love too, his world sounds much more desolate than ours ):

Word Count: 1106

Zayne has always had trouble sleeping or even wanting to entertain the idea of going to sleep. His nightmares have plagued him for so many years now and it’s become his norm. His only relief from it has been you.

Some of the staff that work closely with Zayne have been acquainted with you and they’ve come to understand that if they want the cardiac surgeon to sleep, you’re the key. You love his co-workers because they really do care about each other and you’re so grateful they make sure Zayne rests well. You always make sure to bring them some snacks or coffee when you come to the hospital.

A recent wanderer attack at the outskirts of the city has left the emergency unit overflowing for the past 2 days. You’ve been helping where you can to defeat wanderers and the combat side of things has calmed down. But the hospital is still working overtime. AKA Zayne is working overtime.

He’s been up for 2 days straight due to back to back emergency surgeries that he insists he helps on. The staff will allow him to push himself but they know when to cut him off. They asked if you’d be available today to pop by and you mentioned that you’re already on your way after finishing your last area sweep and clearing the place for wanderers.

When you walk in, you set some coffees onto the clerk’s desk and quickly walk over to Zayne’s office. You slowly knock quietly and open the door cautiously so as not to spook the sleep deprived man. Zayne never shows when he’s nervous, he doesn’t get jittery because he’s literally a surgeon and can’t afford to. But, you can tell when he’s exhausted and anxious, and he is exactly that right now. You walk over to him and he hugs you from where he’s sitting at his desk, swiveling his chair to face you as you stand between his legs. You stroke your hands through his hair and rub his back, letting him enjoy the peace. “All successful?” You ask. He nods with his face buried in your chest. You’re glad that this means his surgeries and patients were all okay, but you know it doesn’t ease the pain and stress of going into a surgery worried that it might not end well. Also, not to mention the immense stress simply performing a surgery brings. The notches on his notebook always come to mind at times like this. It took a while for you to talk to him about it but when he told you they were a tally of how many patients have passed in his care, your heart ached. Since then, he hasn’t kept track and you’re very glad that he confided in you and made the decision to stop. He doesn’t deserve to have that guilt hang over his head when it’s never been his fault.

You continue to soothe him and ask “couldn’t sleep again?” He responds slowly and clearly exhausted “I haven’t felt tired…” he pauses “but you being here is already making me drift into sleep” he says muffled into your chest. “Thank you, I’m happy to see you, I just… I have another surgery soon.” “The staff has already shifted the time slots, you know they don’t let you push that far. It’s been 2 days, love,” you explain to him. Surgeons have already been called in due to the emergency and Zayne has a 12 hour period until his next shift. The staff know he’d get upset if they forced him to not work for more than a day, especially during an emergency. He’s quiet for a minute or two. “I know you trust your team. Take this time to breathe baby,” you say to him gently. When he’s in this state, he can’t form thoughts coherent enough to help calm himself down with logic. So you do it for him, softly, with lots of kisses. You kneel down to meet his eyes and cradle his face in your warm hands. He nuzzles very slightly into your touch and you kiss him on his forehead. He honestly almost falls asleep right then and there. You move him to the couch in his office, he has a wider couch to accommodate naps. He prefers his office to the call rooms (in hospital rooms for staff to sleep in), it just feels cozier and you’re also usually here.

You let him get comfy as you bring over pillows and a blanket for him, all prepared nearby because he quite commonly has to do this. With his eyes closed he mutters a slurred “love you s’much.” He has more words for you but can barely even conceptualize them in his head, let alone speak them out loud. But he knows that you understand the sentiment. He’ll make it up to you when he wakes up.

Somehow you’ve been able to stop his nightmares since you two got close again. He isn’t scared to sleep as long as you’re around. You’re his only safe haven from the dreams and just thinking about that makes him so emotional. He just thinks it makes so much sense that you cure him in this way and he loves you so much, you take such good care of him and he does the same back.

He quickly drifts off into sleep as you sit in front of the couch on the carpet while holding his hand and patting his back slowly. You purposely pat slowly to encourage his heart rate to slow and calm down. You will sometimes leave to do your own thing after he falls asleep but most of the time you stay close, wanting to keep protecting him in his sleep in a way. It probably doesn’t really make a difference but you don’t mind doing your work or playing on your phone nearby. It’s kinda like you think he subconsciously feels you there and so you stay. You don’t pay it much mind but he hasn’t told you that he feels so much better when he wakes up and sees you there. It makes a wave of warmth flow over his cold self and he can’t explain how much he loves it and you.

You watch him a little longer as his breathing slows and you know he’s fast asleep. You go to sit on his chair and check some messages on your phone but you make sure to give him another kiss on his temple before going. You don’t really see it but his lips curve ever so slightly, completely subconsciously enjoying it.

Thank you for reading!

|| MASTERLIST <3 ||

#zayne x reader #reader x zayne #li shen x reader #reader x love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace zayne #zayne love and deepspace #zayne #li shen #zayne fluff #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace #self insert #j's silly ramblings

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danikamariewrites · 8 months

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We'll Be Here When You Come Home

Poly!batboys x reader

A/n: I could’ve made this and Azriel x reader but I wanted all the boys lol

Warnings: nudity

You didn't want Cassian and Azriel to go. You hated when they had to go away for weeks, you felt incomplete. Rhys did too but he never said anything. He didn't want to make you upset, but their work was necessary.

You hugged Cassian around his torso first and he held you even tighter. When you went to hug Azriel you became more emotional. Out of the three of your mates you were more connected with Azriel. The bond connected you to him first and he always came to you for emotional support.

You started tearing up when you pulled away from Azriel. "Hey," he said softly, wiping a tear that fell free, "We'll be back before you know it princess." "Yeah," Cassian adds, "and Rhys is still here. Make sure he doesn't miss us too much baby." He sent you a wink before opening the front door.

As they flew off in different directions Rhys held you from behind, leaving small kisses on the back of your head. “Come on darling, let’s have breakfast.” He pulled you toward the kitchen. You couldn’t help but stare out the window as Azriel and Cassian became smaller and smaller until they disappeared from view.

The two weeks passed but not fast enough. You could tell Rhys missed them a lot too but he was focused on keeping your mood up. You two spent the days sitting together, helping Rhys with work, taking walks, and Rhys even took you out to dinner.

When it was time for bed Rhys had his wings out, wrapping around you for extra comfort. And every night you’d ask if Rhys had had from either of them. He’d always say, “They checked in. They miss you too. All is well darling, I promise.”

The day finally came for Azriel and Cassian to return home. You woke up early and spent the day anxiously awaiting their arrival. Rhys had told you Cassian would be home in the afternoon and Azriel closer to dinner.

From your spot in the living room you heard Cassian’s wings beating as he landed in the front garden. You shot up from the large arm chair, rushing to meet Cass at the front door. As soon as he stepped through the door you jumped into his arms letting out a happy scream. “Cass! Welcome home!”

“Hey sweetheart!” He dropped his bag and spun you around. You heard Rhys’ footsteps approach as Cassian put you down. Rhys ran up to Cassian and embraced him. Mumbling into his neck, “Missed you.” When they let go Rhys checked him over, “You alright? How was it?”

“Not bad. Devlon was his usual self so nothing I couldn’t handle.” You give him a sad smile. “Why don’t you go unpack and settle, I’ll make you two some lunch.” They each kissed one of your cheeks and headed off in separate directions.

Rhys took the rest of the day to sit with you and Cassian as he told you stories about the Steppes.

The rest of the day dragged on. All you could do was stare out the window waiting for any sign of Azriel.

The sun finally set and you were even more anxious. To distract yourself you went up to Rhys’ office where he and Cassian were having a more in depth discussion about the camps. As you walk in their attention turns to you, both smiling up at you from their seats.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” You sheepishly looked away from your two mates. Feeling awkward for interrupting them. “I’m just getting worried about Az. Is he almost home?” Your voice barley a whisper but they noticed your concern. “He’s landing now. Az really missed you, he wants to see you.” Rhys said giving you a light smile. Your face lights up and you practically fly down the stairs back to the foyer.

Azriel is toeing off his boots, loosely holding his bag. His shadows alert him to your presence and he drops the bag, turning his large frame to face you. Az looked tired. No only we’re there bags under his eyes but his shoulders slumped, he looked like he was struggling to keep his wings from drooping.

You let out a sympathetic oh and stride over to him, arms open, ready to hold your mate. Azriel scooped you into his arms and you tuck your face into his neck, breathing his scent. You stayed like this for a long time. So long that Rhys and Cassian came down to greet Az but got impatient. They decided to drink in the lounge.

When Azriel finally let go of you you cupped both sides of his face. You could feel the stubble he hadn’t bothered shaving over the last few days. “What happened? Rhys said everything was fine.” He swallowed, avoiding eye contact. “It was. It just got brutal at the end.” His voice was barley above a whisper.

Sometimes Azriel got like this after missions. When they we’re too brutal or violent he got lost in his head. He was distant enough when he came home once that Rhys begged him to let Azriel in his mind. It scared the three of you that he was quieter than usual. After Azriel let him in Rhys hugged him tight, tears lining his eyes.

“Oh Az, I’m so sorry.” Azriel pulled you back to his chest, running his scarred fingers through your hair. “Are you hungry? Do you want dinner?” Azriel shook his head slowly, “No. I just want to sleep.” You pull away from him and twine your fingers through his, tugging him towards the stairs.

Azriel strips, not bothering with sleep clothes. You do the same, knowing he just wants to feel you on nights like this. Slipping under the covers Azriel pulls you on top of him and runs his rough fingers up and down your spine.

You can feel tension leaving him as you watch his eyes get heavier and heavier with the sleep he desperately needs. His movements stop, his fingers splayed on your upper back. You can feel yourself on the edge of sleep as well until the door cracks open revealing Rhys and Cassian.

“Is he alright?” Rhys asks in your mind. “He will be. He just needs time and rest.” You see him nod in the dark as he and Cass make their way over to bed.

You can tell Cassian wants to be closer to you so you adjust yourself, facing his side of the bed. You give him a small smile and he rests his warm calloused hand on your lower back. Rubbing small soothing circles until you fell asleep.

Everything felt right again. You were finally content with all your mates home safe and sound.

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whumpshaped · 3 months

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Caretaker being a vampire with all its accompanying guilt and shame who wants nothing to do with their curse, and whumpee being someone with a torrential past with vampires. An odd duo, but they make it work. One night whumpee is a pacing, unable to sit still, pathetically trying to self-soothe, anxious wreck. Caretaker realizes they can, in fact, help quell the raging fear within whumpee’s gut by entrancing them for a little bit. Whumpee is a bit put off, but eventually accepts the offer out of sheer desperation to feel calm.

aka whumpee and caretaker taking a piece of their power back by whumpee letting someone take control in a safe environment, and caretaker taking control in a way that isn’t inherently inhumane.

tw vampire caretaker, dehumanisation, self-loathing, mind control

Caretaker tried their best to stay away from Whumpee as much as they could in the small cabin. They had found the poor human injured and barely conscious out in the snow just a week ago, and now that they were well enough to protest the care, they did so with all their might.

Thanks for saving me, but I don’t want a vampire anywhere near me.

Caretaker wished they’d had a retort, but there was nothing to say, really. It wasn’t like they would’ve wanted a vampire near them, and they were one themself. They simply agreed to stay as far from Whumpee (and their neck and blood) as possible until the snow melted enough for the road to be safe. After that, they’d go their separate ways.

“Is that… human blood?” Whumpee asked one day when they opened the fridge. Caretaker nodded mutely. “Wonderful. Just… wonderful! Am I gonna end up in the fridge?”

“I stole them from a hospital,” they admitted quietly.

“Even better! I wonder how many people had to die as a result of that.”

“I know you’d rather me starve to death,” Caretaker said a little bitterly. “It’s understandable. I get it. But can you just hold off on that sentiment for a few more days?”

“Sure. Anything to make you comfortable.”

The following evening was unbearably tense. Whumpee couldn’t sit still, they were pacing around the living room like a poisoned rat with extra anxiety. Caretaker had watched them from behind their book for at least half an hour before the idea popped into their head, and another hour before they dared mention it.

“I could help put you to sleep,” they offered gently. Whumpee barked out a laugh.

“Just what I need. I mean, being a mindless thrall is a step up from being anxious, isn’t it?”

Caretaker bit their lower lip and looked back at the pages. “I just thought I’d offer. Sorry.”

Whumpee scoffed. “Yeah, well, I’m not interested.”

As the hours passed, and Whumpee got more and more agitated, Caretaker noticed they started glancing in their direction more and more often. They looked like they were considering the offer. Caretaker didn’t say a word, though, not wanting to embarrass them or seem pushy.

Eventually, Whumpee caved. “Fine.”

Caretaker blinked. “Fine?”

Whumpee rolled their eyes. “I’ll… I’ll let you use your hypnosis powers on me. I’m… really tired, and I just… I’m really tired. I can’t sleep. My feet hurt. If you can make it all go away, I’m… willing to give it a go.”

“If you’re sure,” Caretaker said carefully, setting their book aside. “It won’t make you a mindless thrall, I promise.”

“All the better.”

The human took a few minutes to actually follow through and settle on the sofa next to them. They were stiff as a board, flinching violently when Caretaker tried to reach out and touch them.

“I thought you just needed eye contact?” they asked defensively. “Don’t touch me.”

“It works better with skin to skin contact. Quicker. Less time spent with me awkwardly staring into your eyes while you glare at me.”

“I don’t need it to work quickly. I just need it to work, and I need you not to touch me.”

Caretaker let their hand fall back into their lap. “As you wish. This should feel nothing but pleasant and soothing.”

They looked into Whumpee’s eyes, focusing on finding a way into their mind. It was difficult with how guarded and hostile they were, but they eventually found a little crack, a desire to be cared for and helped.

“Is this it?” Whumpee asked, voice laced with cynicism. “I don’t feel anything.” Despite their words, Caretaker could already see them stifling a yawn.

“You will,” they said softly. “If you want to. And I think you do. All you want is some good, restful sleep.” As they poked around further, widening that crack and flooding Whumpee’s brain with peace and quiet, they realised Whumpee hadn’t slept too well on any given day in the past week. “And no wonder. You’ve been so restless. Were you scared to sleep?”

“Of course I was,” they said easily. Their voice had less of an edge to it, and they ever so slightly started leaning towards Caretaker. “I was in the same house as… as a vampire…”

Caretaker tried reaching out again, and this time, Whumpee didn’t protest. The poor human felt so fragile as they guided them to lie down on the sofa, head in their lap, and Caretaker wondered how they’d managed to keep going until now. “There’s no need to be afraid anymore,” they cooed, carding their fingers through Whumpee’s hair as they talked. “You can rest now. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Safe…” they murmured.

“So safe. You just close your eyes and sleep, alright? I’ll wake you later, once you’re well-rested.”

#asks #whump #whump drabble #vampire caretaker #dehumanisation #self-loathing #mind control

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ofallthingsnasty · 5 months

Text

tags: toxic dom/sub dynamics, fat (and insecure about it) reader, face-fucking, a little bit disgusting because it's a punishment mini disclaimer: i'm still not up to date with one piece but this is is pre-canon. this started out fluffier in my head but it's crocodile so hey, haha. just a little pwp. pairing: sir crocodile/f!reader word count: 1.9k

“Darling.” His voice floats to you through the half-closed door of your walk-in closet, where you’re currently hiding - eyes on your reflection, fingers pinching and prodding at seemingly too-snug fabric.

You know that tone, the barely concealed sigh. Shit.

“It’s your size, is it not?” Is it? You aren’t quite sure, yourself. You got into it just fine, the tight fabric easing over your thighs, your ass and then your stomach way better than expected (there have been garments that surrendered before they even got over your hips, that wouldn’t zip over your soft back) - but when you gave yourself a once-over, your face fell at the sight of your stomach in velvet, very clearly there, very clearly on display. It fits in theory, you think, but it looks beyond unflattering, makes you feel uneasy, as though you’re already being judged by strangers who are bound to stare should you wear this outside of your home. The soft clink of metal on wood pulls you out of your thoughts.

The door moves behind you and through the mirror, you can see Crocodile slowly ducking into the room, cigar smoke lazily following him.

He looks tired, eyes half-lidded and hair just a smidge out of place - he's had a long day but the sticky, heavy weight of your insecurity doesn't care, keeps your thoughts hot and oh- you cross your hands in front of your body, suddenly anxious to be seen by him. (It’s silly, so silly, and you know it, because he has seen way more than this.) “So it does fit.”

His face is hard to read - some part of you half-expected him to pull a grimace at the way the garment seems to exaggerate your belly, although he’s never done that to you.

“Don’t you think that there is too much on display like that?”, you ask and your brows furrow in ugly self-doubt, turning around to look at him. Expensive or not, the fabric seems to cling to your hip dips in such a way it makes you want to crawl into one of his fur coats and never emerge again, to be hidden away forever. His steely eyes flick down for a split second, one puff of smoke the only indication that he has registered your words. His shoulders sink with a long exhale.

“You know, I’m starting to think that you’re just being an ungrateful little brat.” Out of everything that could have left his mouth, this is not what you expected. Your head snaps back to your stunned eyes in the floor-length mirror. Something akin to panic makes your heart thrum, not wanting to appear like you’re trampling his expensive gifts with your bare feet. “No, I-” Another heavy sigh interrupts you. And like a thoroughly trained dog, it makes you shut your mouth.

“You get nothing but the best this town, this country, has to offer and yet you complain about every single piece of clothing I pick out for you.” You shrink into yourself, suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. He’s right and you know it. You have rejected, tossed aside any dress, any blouse, any pair of pants he had brought to you in the last few weeks. Not out of malice, never out of malice - but out of frustration with yourself. “It’s not like that, really-”

“Then what is it? Your silly little insecurities again?”, he says, so nonchalantly that it almost makes you groan. “How tiresome.”

He closes his eyes and his forehead twitches as his frontalis muscle strains. You're in trouble now. “Strip.”

His tone doesn’t allow any backtalk - even your wide eyes don’t soften his face, although he can clearly see them through the glass of the mirror. “I’m sorry”, you wobble over your lower lip. “It’s just-” A wave of his hand is enough to stop you, a lone strand of hair that has fallen loose moving in sync with the shake of his head.

“Where are your manners?”

Oh. So that's how he wants to play. You’re both mortified and glad, because it means that he isn’t going to storm out of your bedroom and hide away in his office. This is an open, an opportunity to make things better. Just do as he says, just be good for him.

“I’m sorry, Sir”, you eke out while you reach for the closest zipper of the dress. “I don’t care.”

He stares and stares as you peel off the layers of clothing, right until you're naked, a pile of neatly folded fabric right by your feet, still with your back to him. Weird as it sounds, you feel better - freer, without any area of your body highlighted by tight fabric or harsh shadows.

Still, you have a hard time holding his gaze - too afraid to catch his ire, for this to be nothing but a ploy to humiliate you. He steps closer until you can feel the heat of his body on the skin of your back, until the smell of tobacco grows so thick you feel it settle itself into sinuses. Strong fingers dig into the fat of your cheeks, press so harshly into it that they must be able to feel the curve of your teeth as they push your mouth forward. It’s not a loving touch. You stare at your reflection, looking as stupid as you feel right now.

“I work all day, all night to provide for you, to keep you fed and happy. And then, when I try to indulge you, you pick apart any gift I bring to you.”

He lets the words settle in for a moment and holds your eyes through the glass.

“Do you know how that makes me feel?”

You can guess. You probably know. But you don't want to say it out loud, guilt still heavy in your stomach.

“No, Sir”, you slur against his grip.

He raises a thin brow at your audacity. That little bit of disobedience is going to cost you later, no doubt.

“Like shit”, he spits out and lets his hand fall away, dragging your head to the side with it.

“Do you know what I'm going to do now?”

“Yes, Sir.”

You don’t. But you don’t expect him to be gentle, not with the way his brows are still tightly knit together.

He clicks his tongue. “Turn around. On your knees.”

You do as he says, hands wringing around each other just over your lap, a nervous gesture. His gaze weighs heavy as he just takes his time to appraise you - soft form, rolls and stretchmarks, dimples and all - and it makes you even more uneasy. “Are you having fun playing stupid today? Do I have to spell it out for you? ”, he says around his cigar. You shake your head, almost furiously so. Even though you feel like a broken record with the way you’re responding, it’s simply part of this, part of your role, your place beneath him. “No, Sir.” You reach up to undo his pants, nervous fingers busying themselves with freeing him just enough for you to take him into your mouth. He’s still soft as you take him into your hands. You can smell the long day at work on him - he isn’t usually like this, he usually joins you once he’s clean, but this isn’t necessarily about pleasure - not yours, anyway. You sit and wait for his permission to start. He grants it with nothing more than a lazy nod and soft exhale.

It’s easy to work him until he gets hard, you’ve done it many times before - but when you finally wrap your tongue around his cock you can’t help but wrinkle your nose. He tastes sharp and salty, and your base instinct tells you to spit him out again. So you hesitate. A mistake.

Your tiny act of defiance is quelled by him simply pushing himself down your throat and it makes you gag, both out of reflex and disgust. The sound is wet and blubbery, more animal than human. The tips of your ears grow hot in humiliation. He doesn’t need to warn you a second time. You start to move on your own again as soon as his hand lets you, trying to counteract the taste of him with extra saliva - you’re just glad he allows you to grab him to stabilize yourself, which saves you at least a little bit of a tired neck. He lords above you, chewing on his cigar, icy eyes unreadable as he simply stares at you as you work your face hot for him, gag and drool and still hold his gaze like he expects you to. Not a single noise leaves him and with every second your brow creases more and more, feeling more guilty and small and insignificant every time you taste him on the tip of your tongue. Minutes pass like this, the room silent except for the loud effort of your tongue.

“Not enough, not enough”, he mumbles from up above, slightly out of breath. “Hold still-”

His hand suddenly clutches the back of your head and he pushes himself down your throat again, until your nose is pressed against his pubes and your face framed by his open fly. The only thing you can do is let a spit-bubble - equal parts mucus and saliva - pop in your face. Your mouth makes an ungodly sound, the soft muscles of your oropharynx jumping at the intrusion, unwillingly massaging his cock. Tears shoot into your waterline and you look up, eyes big and forehead grooved with strain. You feel like you’re about to puke on him, that’s how deep he is. Valiantly fighting the urge, your epiglottis flutters when he pulls out and starts fucking your face in earnest, holding you in place. He’s rough - you’ve earned it, you figure, for being so cold, so uncaring - and you try to relax as best as you can, just holding your mouth open.

Concentrate. From one breath to the next. Don’t get distracted by the miserable, wet noises you’re making right now. It sure would be easier if he didn’t suddenly start talking.

“I should have you walk around in the nude for a little while, see how you'll like your clothes then.” Oh god, you think and gurgle in protest. Knowing him, he’d make good on this promise. “Don’t like that, do you?”, he asks, entirely rhetorical. If you were to nod now, with his cock down your throat, you know you’d spew on his expensive leather shoes. His eyes flash with something and he ruts your mouth so hard you get dizzy. “That’s right.”

“You take what I give you. At the very least, you'll take this”, he grunts out and crushes you against his stomach, suddenly emptying himself into you. It’s hot - and burns the tender flesh of your throat that he irritated with brutal friction. You can feel that familiar itch at the back of your nose, the sharp feeling of his load working its way up. You can vaguely taste him - salty and terribly unappetizing, smoker that he is - but he stays right where he is, his grip iron and his eyes closed as he enjoys the last traces of his quick orgasm. You can feel him twitch in you, you think. He plucks you off his dick himself - you’re pushed away by his fingers on your forehead, and you lose all of your tension, torso lulling forward. Your ears are ringing and you can’t stop the wad of cum and spit and something that seeps out of the corner of your mouth, landing on the ground with a disgusting splat. He doesn’t care. Neither do you.

A deep inhale from above signals that he’s satisfied with your performance - you look up to find him pushing that little strand of hair back that has cut itself loose, eyes considerably warmer than before.

“Now let’s get something that is more to your taste, darling.”

#one piece x reader #sir crocodile x reader #crocodile x reader #/one piece #/crocodile

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milkywaydrabbles · 6 months

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Hello!

You could do a body worship for Alucard Castlevania, we know that he has that scar on his chest, plus the ones that could have been left from so many battles and maybe that makes him think that his wife feels repulsed by him, but quite the opposite! Please and thank you for giving us your writing!

A/N: It was a little difficult seeing where this was gonna go in the beginning-I decided to make this more loving than a kinktober type deal, but I hope you enjoy it all the same!! MWUAH

Body Worship x Alucard

You can feel Alucard distancing himself. It’s subtle. Unnoticeable really, to anyone who didn’t know him. But you did. And you can feel how he’s been detaching himself from society; from you. When you first noticed it, you thought the worst immediately: he didn’t love you anymore. He didn’t want to be with you, there was something wrong, he was trying to figure out a way to ask for a separation. But you calmed yourself enough to really look closer at how he was acting--and while the little voice in the back of your mind still taunted you and tried to trick you into thinking you’re the problem, you knew that wasn’t the case. But now that brings a different set of problems: Why wasn’t he saying anything about what was troubling him? You didn’t want to push it, especially since it was barely noticeable that there were any issues at all. You tried to coax it out of him, dropping things like ‘you know I’m always here if you need support right?’ or ‘I love you Adrian, I’m here for whatever you need’. He just smiled and nodded as normal, though it didn’t reach his eyes the way it normally does. You think you’d bring it up soon.

Alucard came home as normal in the evening time after helping the village’s men dispose of the remainder of the night creature bodies--it was a random attack, of some desperate stragglers trying to feed--hunched over and tired. You were by his side at the door, kissing his cheek and whispering ‘welcome home’ as normal, taking hold of his hand with a squeeze. There was that sad smile again. “Adrian, honey--what’s going on?” You asked, scared to raise your voice higher than a whisper. “You haven’t been acting like yourself recently.” You could see the gears turning in his mind, either steadying himself to tell you the truth, or make up some excuse--you weren’t sure which one. “I’m...simply tired, my love. I’m sorry for worrying you.” You sighed, knowing he decided for the latter. “Let me help you relax then, I’ll bathe you--”

“It’s alright.” Alucard mentally cursed himself at how quickly he rejected your offer, seeing you wince. He tried again. “It’s...it’s okay, darling. I’ll be quick. I’ll meet you in bed, yes?” He went to the room after that.

That nasty parasite of self doubt and loathing ate itself deep into your body, nesting in your heart as you tried to keep your composure while Alucard finished his bath. You tried to keep it at bay, especially after the last few weeks, but it was becoming so overbearing you weren’t sure if you could actually convince yourself anymore that he wasn’t avoiding you anymore. You laid in your shared room, almost having half a mind of sleeping in one of the guest rooms to give him space, but you don’t think your heart could take it if he decided not to come and find you. You busied yourself with a book, hoping it gets you tired quickly so you can at least rest for the evening. You heard the door click open, and trained your eyes on the pages in front of you, blinking away anxious tears that settled in your eyes. Silently the dhampir climbed into bed and kissed your temple, your body tensing up when he got close. You were hoping the dull lighting would help you, but you knew better than to think his senses weren’t heightened enough to notice something off.

“Darling, you’re crying.” Fuck. “What’s wrong?” You heard the genuine concern in his tone, and you weren’t sure how to continue from there. “Just been a day, I’ll be alright.” You tried to be as strong as he’s been, brushing it off, but he was persistent. “No, we need to talk about it. What’s going on sweetheart?” You couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

He paused, in surprise.

“Something’s been off for weeks Adrian, don’t think I can’t tell. I’ve tried to give you time to talk to me about it, I’ve tried asking, but you keep shoving me off.” Your voice was breaking, tears now flowing freely. “You’re not talking to me, it’s making me nervous. We haven’t even been...intimate with each other, for weeks now. Do you not--”

You stopped yourself, having to rephrase your question, it would have killed you otherwise to know if he didn’t love you anymore.

“Do you want a divorce?”

At that, his hands flew to your face, holding you like you were a delicate flower--brows furrowed and eyes scared. “Of course I don’t--I love you more than anything in the world.” Desperation filled his words. “You are my most precious treasure, I couldn’t live without you--”

“--Then what’s going on?”

He sighed, wiping your tears away before retracting his hands, staring down at the calluses that have formed over the years. “I’m...scared. I look at myself in the mirror and find nothing but a monster staring back. These scars, are--..they’re hideous, you don’t deserve a monster like me. You deserve so much more than this--and I fear one day you’ll recognize that.” It was your turn to wipe away his tears, he didn’t realize he’d begun crying. You had climbed into his lap before he knew it, stern look on your face. “Don’t you dare ever speak about my husband like that again, do you understand?” He blinked, cocking his head to the side. You continued,

“It’s okay to feel vulnerable, everyone has off days of self consciousness--but don’t you ever call yourself a monster. I love you Adrian Tepes. I love you more than I need oxygen to breathe. You are no monster, and you are not hideous in any way. Are you listening to me? You’re everything to me.”

Your hands trailed down his chest, tugging at his shirt, silently pleading him to just take the damn thing off. He concedes, barely, and assists you in peeling the clothing off, unable to look you in the eyes. You frown. “You know what I see?” You whisper, hands tracing the major scar on his chest, and branching off to the smaller ones. “I see strength, and courage, and someone who puts his own fears aside for the ones he loves. I see a man who puts his life on the line to protect others--even strangers.” You lean down and start placing kisses on his shoulders, and start your way down his chest. “I see someone who loves, someone who is kind, someone who is worthy of love and kindness too.” You hear his breathing hitch, a tremble in his breathing as he tries to steady himself. You press on, shimmying lower off his lap and pulling at the sheets. “I see a man who gives his all to everyone around him, and never asks for any of it back. I see a man who never takes, even if he deserves to.” You plant more kisses around his adonis belt, and his hips, grazing your teeth on his skin.

He’s crying now, you know, and he still tries to hide. Alucard shuts his eyes so tight it feels like his lids will rip. He’s been torturing himself for the last few weeks, feeling the ugliest he thinks he ever has. And not because he thinks his physical attraction has lessened, but because of the monster he sees every night in the mirror. His skin is littered with the remains of battles and war, etched forever on his body the horrors he’s endured. And he sits in his loathing, and then looks at you--this angelic being that has made home in his heart, and he wonders how you love him like you do. He wonders what you see in him, how it could possibly be different than what he sees in himself. And now, after all this torture to himself, he listens to you wax poetry about him, how you are so terribly in love with him, and it overwhelms him so much he can’t help but cry. But still, he doesn’t feel worthy of it all, and so he tries to shrink away, but you won’t let him.

“Look at me, Adrian.”

You’ve trailed back up, except now your robe is off and you’re sitting in only your underwear. Your body also has scarring, from battles that you’ve endured in your life also. From men before him who have put you in harm’s way. From night creatures who have attacked your previous village. You have markings that your body has naturally given you, because you’ve grown. Scars and marks are littered on your skin, and you bare yourself to Alucard regardless of it all. Tears continue to flow, though you’re whipping them away. His hands trace your body, squeezing the sides and fingertips touching the raised bumps. You let him explore, bringing his hands to the even larger wounds that he hadn’t traced yet, as if he refuses to acknowledge that you’ve been through such pain. He wishes he could take them away.

Alucard’s hands find purchase on your back and press you to his chest, feeling contact with your skin grounding him. “I’m sorry...” He chokes out, ashamed of how he’s been treating you over his own insecurities. You shake your head anyways, hands raking through his curls. “Don’t apologize, my sweet boy. Just let me love you.” He whimpers, and nods against your chest, moving in tandem with you. Your hips move up to allow him to push his pants down far enough to release his hardening cock, and you rub yourself against him still clothed. You hear him sigh, tightening his arms around you as you do so. “I love you so much.” He murmurs against your skin, hand dipping between your bodies to pull your underwear to the side and prod at your entrance, slowly dipping into your wet heat with a groan. Your fingers tighten in his hair--it’s been some time since you’ve felt him like this, the stretch stinging just a bit as you get used to him again. “Adrian--” You moan, grinding down on his lap. “I love you, you’re perfect for me, you’re everything I need--” You continue your praise as you find a rhythm, bouncing yourself on his lap. He’s overwhelmed, your very presence pushing him into euphoria. The doubts and hatred he had for himself dissipated with each clench of your pussy, with each praise you’re whining into his ear. “Darling, I won’t last tonight--I’m s-sorry.” He grinds out between clenched teeth, nails digging into your hips. You continue fucking yourself on his cock, tits pressed against his chest. “I want to feel you Adrian, please--please, fill me up.” You beg, kissing his face, wherever your lips can get to. You press kisses on his forehead, his temple, his cheeks and nose and chin and finally his lips. You feel him buck into you, meeting your bounces with thrusts of his own. You whisper sweet nothings in his ear: ‘You’re an angel, Adrian’ , ‘you’re my world’ , ‘You’re so beautiful’.

He doesn’t last much longer after that, crying into your shoulder as he tenses and cums inside your pussy. You don’t dare let him go, combing through the tresses around him with your fingers. I love you, I love you, I love you. He chants those words in his mind until he calms himself enough to say them out loud, to declare his love to you in that moment and every moment after that.

#milk writes #castlevania #adrian tepes #alucard #alucard x reader #adrian tepes x reader #alucard tepes x reader #castlevania (2017)#milk kinktober #castlevania alucard #castlevania nocturne

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jacksdinonuggets · 3 months

Text

Caregiver Lucifer

Wow another fic where charlie is overworking herself? sooo original...

thats basically the plot. Please request something so i stop doing the same plot so many times.

Things at the hotel were stressful as usual. Charlie was trying to come up with plans and evidence that sinners could be redeemed while Vaggie had to stop everyone from fighting or Angel from getting everyone uncomfortable. He really needed to know about boundaries.

However, Charlie didn’t feel like taking a break. If she would then she would be in a block and no longer come up with ideas. It was a common thing that happened to her.

As she was doing more paperwork and coming up with plans in her office area, her phone rang. She saw the caller was her dad and picked it up.

“Dad?” She answered tiredly. She really hoped he wasn’t calling to tell her about his new magical rubber ducks.

“Sweetie! How are ya? You doing good, I hope?” He asked in his usual upbeat attitude.

“Yeah, uh-huh,” She absent mindedly replied, not paying attention and instead focusing on her work.

Lucifer frowned from the other side of the phone. It didn’t seem like she was okay. Usually she pays at least a little attention to what he says. Something must be up, he concluded.

“What's the matter, Charlie?” He asked. Upon barely hearing it, the girl was caught off guard.

“Wh-what? Could you repeat that?” Charlie said, wondering if she heard that right or was just too tired.

“I said, what’s the matter? You seem upset,”

“I-I’m not upset! I’m just,” She yawned, “working,”

“Yeah, but its sounds like you’ve been at it for a while. Something must have happened if you aren’t taking breaks,” He said, concerned.

“I’m fine, Dad. The hotel is just… stressing me out a bit but i’ll be okay,” she promised.

“What about doing that thing you told me about a while ago, age re-pression?”

As much as Charlie would love to just be little and have her dad take care of her, the hotel and her people needed her. Heaven’s genocide was coming up very soon and she needed to be prepared.

“It’s age regression, and No. I don’t have time to be a stupid baby, its a dumb coping mechanism anyways,” she told him, getting a bit annoyed. She didn’t mean to have an attitude towards him, she was just really anxious and unfortunately took it out on him. She also knew she shouldn’t have called it stupid. It wasn’t fair to her little self inside of her. She was just trying to push it away.

“Hey, Its not dumb! Vaggie told me it helps you a lot. And if it helps, its not dumb,” He said.

“Whatever, I’m busy and need to get back to work, I’ll talk to you later,”

“Well, bye, I love y-” Charlie hung up the phone before he could even finish saying goodbye. She knew it was kind of rude but she just couldn’t handle it right now, especially with the fact that he brought up her coping mechanism. Now that she was aware of it, she wanted to do it more than anything.

Back at Lucifer’s place, He knew something was up. Charlie never acted this disrespectful and gloomy or from what he’s heard. He wanted to go visit her in person to see how she was doing. Besides, he needed to get out of his rubber duck house and into his daughter's life. But before he left, he had an idea. Grabbing his sewing kit, some fabric and yellow fur, he began to work.

He showed up 30 minutes later to the Hazbin hotel with a medium sized gift box in his hand. He opened the door and saw Vaggie pacing.

“Hey, Vaggie, What’s wrong?” He asked.

“Charlies been stuck in her office for more than 3 hours now. I’m getting worried but she won’t come down or even talk to me,” She explained.

“I’ll try to talk to her, okay? Don’t worry too much, you’ll feel sick after a bit,” He told her before heading upstairs to her office room.

He knocked on the door but didn’t hear a response. Another knock and she answered.

“Go away, I’m busy,” a muffled voice from inside the room said.

“No, I’m worried about you, Apple pie,” He answered back.

“Dad?!” She immediately knew it was him due to the apple pet-name. She opened the door and saw her short, king of hell, dad, in front of her.

“What- what are you doing here?” She asked.

“I told you, I’m worried about you. You don’t usually give me an attitude and that concerns me,” He sat her down on one of the couches inside and sat next to her.

“Here, I made you something. I hope it helps this stressful situation,” he gave her the gift wrapped box. She held it in her lap before taking off the top. Inside was a soft, stuffed ducky. It looked very similar to her old baby stuffy. She used to go every where with that stuffed toy. She wouldn’t be able to sleep without it. But once she grew older, it disappeared. No one knew where it went but Lucifer seemed to have gotten in a fight with Lilith that night.

“Is- is this Quacky?” she asked, voice cracking a little. She was slipping very quickly.

“Not really, I tried to remake him since we lost the original. Is it okay?”

Charlie took Quacky out of the box and gave him a big hug. He was soft and warm, just like the original.

“Thank you…”she mumbled.

“You’re welcome, sweetie. I was hoping it’d help you regress,” He explained. He really wanted his daughter to know that she was safe with him and allowed to be herself around him.

“O-okay, I guess i can,” she finally agreed, knowing she wouldn’t be able to stay a big kid any longer. Lucifer was ecstatic. His daughter liked him now! She led him back to her room where she kept all of her stuff. She took out her pacifier and plopped it in, fully getting in the headspace.

Once Lucifer poured apple juice into her sippy cup so she’d stay a little bit hydrated (water is better but he’s spoiling her), she handed him a red onesie

“Oh, do you need help?” he asked to which she nodded. He made quick work of changing her into the onesie. He couldn’t help but awe at how cute she was in it. The onesie with the pacifier was so adorable on her. She quite literally looked like a little toddler.

“Aww, who’s a wittle baby?” He picked her up from the armpits, making her giggle.

“Me!” she answered, laughing. His eyes teared up at the pure adorableness that was going on.

He put her back down again and she began to play with a few blocks. She was very confused but had fun learning the shapes and colors. She dug through her bag as she got bored again and found a big fidget toy. She sat down again and began playing with it. Her attention was fully on it, not getting bored of the squeaker button once.

As Lucifer watched, he noticed how her hair was very messy now that it was down and really needed a combing. So he summoned a brush and sat behind, softly combing it through her hair as she played with the toy. She would giggle every time the bristles would tickle her scalp and flap her hands.

Once he was done, Charlie flopped onto the floor and began sticking her limbs in the air. Lucifer had no clue why she was doing this but it was so cute that he couldn’t help but chuckle a little.

“Is not funny!” She sat up and spat out her pacifier and stuck her tongue out at him.

“I’m sorry, my little apple, I wasn’t laughing at you, though,” He ruffled her hair and handed the pacifier back. She looked at him with a glare but took the pacifier anyway.

As Lucifer cared and played with his child, he realized how much he missed out on during her childhood. He was always working and she mainly grew up with Lilith. It wasn’t fair for both of them. And now, he could finally spend some time with the baby he neglected.

#hazbin hotel agere #Hazbin hotel agere fanfic #agere fanfic #fandom agere #sfw littlespace #age regression fic #age regression writing #age regression #asking for prompts #sfw agere #sfw regression

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farfromstrange · 1 year

Text

Sleep | m.m

summary: she can’t sleep and he’s there to make sure she’s okay.

[originally intended as a Foreigner’s God one-shot, but i didn’t use my oc’s name in here so yea, do with it as you will]

a/n: this is a short Drabble I found in my Docs. Not proofread, just a cute lil something I wrote ‘cause I struggle with anxiety and I can’t sleep most of the time because of it. Self-indulgent. No use of y/n. No use of any other names. No warnings. Enjoy.

check out the Foreigner’s God series here.

“Hey, bug, what are you doing awake?”

“Just… couldn’t sleep. I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Matt asked as he slowly entered the bedroom, closing the door behind him to block out the city sounds.

She laid there in his bed, dressed in nothing but his dress shirt and a pair of lace panties. Cotton felt like sandpaper on his skin, he had told her, so from there in, she stopped wearing clothing resembling the texture even in the slightest if there was a chance he would touch her where she wore the fabric. In bed, he often touched her everywhere, sexual or not. He needed to be close to her at all times, so she did the necessary sacrifice and threw out most of her cotton underwear.

The shirt smelled like him, like home. Whenever she wore it, she felt like she belonged somewhere in this vast universe. She hadn’t felt like this in a long time. Always choked up from the way her head worked against her, afraid of falling in love, afraid of not being able to love, until Matt came into her life. With him, she could finally breathe again. With him, she felt alive, she felt human, but in a way that made her want to be more.

“I’m sorry for staying awake, for worrying you,” she admitted quietly. “You know, the sorta thing you keep lecturing me for.”

“Oh, no. That’s not what I mean when I say you need to sleep. I don’t want to lecture you, not at all sweetheart, I just… I just want you to be okay.“

He sat down at the edge of the bed, gently cradling her head in his hands as he carted his fingers through her hair.

“What’s on your mind, hm?”

“Nothing, really. It’s just too loud. The world, the people, my thoughts… I can’t sleep ‘cause my mind won’t stop conjuring up the worst scenarios for the weirdest of things, like- like you and my friends and work and I… and then I can hear my heart ‘cause I get anxious from all the stupid thinking and y’know I can’t sleep if I can hear my heartbeat. It’s so loud, I can feel it in my bones. I really need you here, Matt,” the last part was barely audible. “You make it all go away, even just for a little while. That’s enough.”

He smiled, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Can’t sleep without me?”

She shook her head, “No, ‘m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize. It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay, I promise. Let me just get out of this suit and then I’ll cuddle you, okay?”

“‘kay.”

He kissed her forehead. “I love you so much, you know that, right?”

“I know,” she said. “I love you so much too.”

Her speech was slurred, the action of his fingers enough to slowly lull her into a state of bliss. She was oh so tired.

“Here,” he kissed her forehead, “I’ll just be gone two minutes, and I’m leaving the bathroom door open in case you need me.”

“Thank you.” She leaned into his touch.

“I love you.”

“Why do you keep saying it?”

“‘Cause I really need you to believe it, bug. I know you struggle to most of the time, but it’s the truth. I really, really love you. So much.“

“I can’t help it. Never been loved before.”

He looked sad all of the sudden. “You deserve so much better.”

“No, I do. I deserve you,” she told him. “Only you.” Her eyelids fluttered. He wasn’t sure if she was aware of what she said, but his heart swelled nonetheless.

“You deserve the world, and I can’t give it to you. I know that.”

“You’re the love of my life, Matthew, and you’re enough for me. You’re all I need. You’re my world. I don’t need anything but you. And even though it scares me, I’m so happy you’re here.”

“You’re enough for me too,” he whispered, too choked up by her bare confession to think straight. She had never actively told him that before.

Her heartbeat slowed down, breathing now even. He smiled again, tears in his eyes. Lips connected with hers, then her nose, then her forehead. Subconsciously, she smiled in her sleep, nuzzling further into the pillow and it was the cutest thing. He felt so happy in that moment, and relieved. He was relieved that she existed and that he had her and that she was alive – he craved her like air, he craved her like water. She was everything to him. Without her, he had no reason to wake up in the morning, no reason to keep going. She was his lifeline.

When he got up to get undressed and slip into bed beside her, finally, after such a long day, she grabbed his hand.

“Be right there, bug,” he said. “Told you, not going anywhere.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

She wasn’t even lucid enough to realize. He squeezed her hand, then let go. Taking off his clothes, he wondered how he got so lucky. And when he felt her body mold against him, head in the crook of his neck and curling like a koala bear, he finally came home, where he always wanted to be.

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock imagines #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x afab!reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock drabble #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #hurt/comfort #human disaster matt murdock #marvel #matt murdock x female!oc #matt murdock x oc #drabble #netflix daredevil #mcu #reader insert #anxienty

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pom-seedss · 2 years

Text

On being “afraid of pain”

It can be very frustrating when people, especially doctors but people in general too, assume that I’m ‘afraid’ of doing things. If I hear one more person talking about how I must be “afraid of pain” I am going to start sobbing.

First of all, I have a pretty good grasp on my capabilities and limitations. I know what will cause me more pain not because I am anxious, but because I have done these things before and experienced the fallout. I am not afraid that I will be in more pain if I do this activity, I know for a fact I will be in more pain if I do this activity.

Choosing not to do an activity that I know will cause me more pain isn’t anything more than choosing not to touch a hot stove because I know that will cause me more pain. It has nothing to do with fear, it’s about knowing the consequences of an action.

Second of all, I have an excellent grasp on how my body is feeling at any given moment. Because 1. I live here, I’ve lived here for 34 years and counting and 2. I have been consistently told throughout my life to chart how I am doing, so self-reflection and self-assessment have been drilled into me from almost every health professional I have had contact with.

Doctors who work with me, rather than just on me, consistently confirm I know what I am talking about. When I say “x is feeling tight, but I think the problem actually stems from y”, I am usually right. At least as far as muscles and such, internal organs are out of my league and usually need more in depth tests to know what’s wrong anyway. But as far as the basic mechanics, first aid, general fitness acumen, I know how my body works and how things are connected.

Third of all, I bare more pain on a daily basis than most of these people will feel in a lifetime. I do not care that there is no ‘objective’ measure of pain, no way to really say what is painful because one person will react differently to stimuli than another. But I know what pain feels like because I am in it constantly. From the time I wake up to the time I go to sleep, there is never a time I am not in pain. It ebbs and flows, of course, and sometimes I ignore it or can flood myself with endorphins on a really good day so i don’t feel it, but it is never not there.

It becomes quite insulting how people infantilize disabled folks who have chronic pain. Especially fat disabled people.

When non-pained folks work out they experience some pain, soreness, aching and eventually healing. They assume that this is the kind of pain that will be felt and they tend to encourage people passed the aches and pains because their bodies will heal and be better for it.

For a lot of people with chronic pain, however, the cost is much higher. It’s not just ‘regular soreness added to our existing pains’, it’s less a simple addition and more a multiplication.

The general ache and soreness of working out may tip an already tired muscle over the edge into constant clenching. It might pull the joint out of place because there was too much tension on something already near the breaking point from strain. It can mean your core muscles tighten up and make your stomach clench and disrupt your food intake and cause bouts of nausea. It could mean having to take more pain medication that can have other adverse side effects like acedominaphine being hard on the stomach, which can cause long term digestive issues and further pain and complications.

So when all these factors and considerations and extra risks are all chalked up to “being afraid of pain” it really makes me feel like no one is ever actually listening to people in pain. Not just me, but any one of us.

When we say “that won’t work, I’ve tried it” or “that won’t work, I’ve tried something extremely similar to it” we are told we are just afraid to get better, that we’ve built an identity around our pain and we have to stop. I just want to scream at them that nothing is 100% effective for 100% of people and that people with adverse reactions to this thing that might help most people still exist and deserve to be treated as well.

I am not afraid of pain. I can and do deal with more pain than most people can even fathom. I can deal with more pain on top of my daily pain.

But only I get to decide what is worth the pain and the risks.

Just because I do not choose to spend my ability on whatever you think might help me does not mean I fear pain or am identifying too much with it.

It just means that I don’t find touching a hot stove to be worth it.

#disability #chronic pain #spoonie

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fatuismooches · 10 months

Note

SMOOOCHES!!! Hello my adorable n most favorite writer!!! ꒰♡˃̶̤́ ꒳ ˂̶̤̀ ꒱

I hope you’ve been doing absolutely amazing! I give you another brainrot of mine tonight! I hope you enjoy!!You had mentioned in one of your recent replies to one of my smol Dottore brainrots that Fragile!Reader and Zandy would have matching ruin guard plushies. And it got me thinking on “what would happen if you ended up losing the plushie?” So here it is!

Fragile!Reader most likely always has the plushie in their grasp (like when eating, taking small walks, anything!) since it brings a lot of comfort to them. It was after all a gift from Zandik, and you always held his gifts to a high regard. And this plushie was no exception. Since it helped you cope with any of your stress, anxiety, etc. it was usually the first thing you’d grab whenever you were feeling such negative emotions. And if the plushie was alive, it would definitely comment on how you would cry most nights due to you feeling upset about your condition on some nights. So to say that this plushie is very meaningful to you is an understatement. (It even has yours and Zandik’s initials sewn into it on one of its tiny legs.) But, one night when you’re about to head to bed, you realize your favorite plush is missing. So, you look all throughout your bedroom, but unfortunately you can’t find it. And eventually, a few clones see you looking for it, and do their best to help you find the plushie. Even trying to retrace your steps, yet to no success. But, as the night wears on, your body starts to get tired (being that you’re not really used to staying late since your condition doesn’t let you stay up on most days, and your body requires lots of sleep.) and although you do try to endure, it ends up failing when as soon as a clone picks you up, your head resting on their shoulder, you quickly fall asleep. Eventually sent to your bedroom and tucked in (as well as hooked up to the many machines to monitor your vitals ໒꒰ྀི ◞ ◟꒱ྀིა ) the clones still continue their search for your dear plushie. Yet there’s no success that night, especially since they all still have work to complete. So even though you’re a priority to them, they also don’t want a scolding from Zandik..

So you end up waking up to no good news that morning. Yet that doesn’t stop you from continuing to search the lab. You could ask Zandik yes, but you also don’t want to disturb his experiments for a petty thing like your plushie. So you continue your search alone. And it remains that way for a few days, and you’re left quite anxious during these days without it. Since it is your comfort item, and how will you explain to Zandik you lost it? Sure he could probably make a new one, but it wouldn’t be the same as the original. Just like his clones, you love and hold all of them dearly close to your heart, but deep down you’ll always save a spot in your heart specifically for Zandik. However, your plushie is eventually found. (It had been left in the library behind a bookshelf) and you go back to your normal happy bubbly self. Overjoyed to have your plushie back. Although, you couldn’t really remember when you had left it there since you don’t remember ever walking into the library…But either way, you found it and that’s all that matters, right?

(Just trying to slip in the concept of Fragile!Readers memory slowly deteriorating every few years or so. Although it’s really subtle, and you just blame it on having bad memory as a kid.) But I hope you enjoy this brainrot of mine!! I’m sorry if it got a little long and slightly angsty I couldn’t come up with a fluffy ending besides you and little Zandy being able to play with your plushies again. (But I think during the time that your plushie is missing, Zandy would try and offer his like the good boy he is ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა ) but I hope you’re having a lovely day/night! May you get a lot of chu chi’s n kissies n hugs n everything nice in the world bc u deserve it so so much! i give u a million chu chus !!

-from your dear boo boo 🎐 anon! ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

SQUEEE AHH ANOTHER DELICIOUS BRAINROT FROM MY LOVE <333 !!! BROOO THIS WAS SO CUTE I WAS SMILING THE WHOLE TIME 😭🫶

To say you adored your plushie was a severe understatement. It was a gift from your beloved, so of course you’d hold it in high regard! Not to mention how much comfort it brought you whenever you weren’t feeling the best. It was like a reminder that Zandik was always by your side, even when he couldn’t physically be there. It was something you could reveal your deepest darkest emotions and secrets too and not be judged. You loved it so much, and you didn’t care if that seemed childish or something. Often you’d trace your and Zandik’s initials and giggle at the thought of him.

So when one night you couldn’t find your plushie to cuddle with, you were on the verge of going crazy. At first you thought, maybe it fell under the bed or you dropped it somewhere strange, but nope, you tore apart your whole room, and nothing. And the clones kind of have a strange detector instinct for whenever you’re distressed (or maybe they just heard the noises from your room) and of course they assist you in your quest to find your plushie. But to no avail, which disheartens you. But you’re determined to find it until… zzz, your body is getting all the more tired from all of this walking. You silently cursed it for being so weak all the time, but there was nothing you could do. You probably would have fallen asleep on the floor were it not for the clone that carried you back. You muttered an apology and held onto him and you think his body heated up a bit.

You didn’t want Zandik to know that you lost it. First, it was kind of embarrassing to be this distraught over a plushie and you didn’t want him to think you were overreacting childishly or something. Second, you didn’t want him to possible feel bad you lost his gift, because you didn’t really mean to! You swear, you have no recollection of even leaving it somewhere. So strange… but you just mope around for a few days without your plushie to cuddle and talk to :( But when your plushie is found you’re overjoyed!! (The clones are relieved that you’re back to normal now because all of them were greatly concerned and sneaking looks at you) Maybe you should ask Zandik to put some kind of locator on it. Just in case this happens again. Speaking of him, maybe you should go visit him. He might get a bit huffy and tell you to go and rest but he’ll never say no to you <3

I’m heavily enjoying your angst, the tears are coming but its the good kind 🫡 It’s so *chefs kiss* amazing! I love the goodest of boys Zandy. He does not let anyone touch his stuff, except you of course <3 He excitedly shows you the stuff he collected from other nations and tells you the story of how he got it (may or may not be brutal.)

As someone who sleeps with plushies I loved this sm. I dont think I could fall asleep without them 😅 and I’d be so upset if I couldn’t have them anymore lol. I love holding soft things especially in bed, really puts me into relaxing mode 💖 (I also really want a high quality dottore plush lol) and OMG IT WAS GOING SO HAPPY UNTIL THE MEMORY DETERIORATING- 😭😭 Omg I remember a long time ago I wrote a little thing about fragile reader’s memory, that one day you forgot about them completely. So now im just thinking about them forgetting Zandik and the clones completely and them being in absolute shambles because not even the genius doctor predicated that, and now he has no idea what to do. On top of searching for a cure now the love of his life doesn’t even remember him. 🫠

GIVING YOU A MILLION CHU CHUS AS WELL!! MWAH MWAH SMOOCH ILY🎐ANON!!

#smooches talks #🎐 anon #fragile reader <3 #dottore love notes <3 #zandy bb <3 #i love the little emoticon things u use theyre so cute ily

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mr-bas00nist · 1 year

Note

Bro I'm stupid and I press send without fucking finish the sentence

ANYHOW, YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT HAVE YOU DONE BY TELLING MR YOU WRITE FOR KÖNIG

I look at your pinned post and you said you write angst

CAN I GET A ONE SHOT, HC OR WHATEVER YOU WANT REALLY WITH LIKE KÖNIG ARGUING WITH HIS S/O? BUT LIKE they're arguing and he ends up saying something really mean. Good old hurt/comfort or hurt/no comfort, do what you deem fit 👀

CAUSE IM TIRED OF SEEING SHY UWU BOI KÖNIG AROUND, I WANT THIS MAN TO DESTROY MY FEELINGS

This one was kinda self indulgent because I’d do the same thing König would do to really close friends and people I knew. 😕 This one is a sadder on so be aware.

Reader is Non-Binary!!!

Cw! Angst with no comfort, Arguing, abuse mentions

You and König had a great relationship, very open and loving. You guys always respected each other no matter what. But König had outbursts due to his anxiety. He constantly would belittle himself and look for comfort from you and usually you had no issue helping him out but It got tiring. He just got more and insecure about your relationship and himself that you just started to leave him to his feelings.

He’d get anxious, yell at you, start crying in your arms and say it’s all his fault. And it was this almost every single day. You tired to reassure him but it was like he was just using you for comfort not even like a real relationship anymore. You believed that he thought you were just his therapist. He’d barely ever kiss you hug you it just turned into yelling and sobbing and you turning into the ‘asshole’.

You were so fucking tired of it. And what do you know it happened again like usual. König was beating himself up about stuff yelling at you about it while you just sat there with a blank expression. When he finally calmed down he spoke shakily. “C-can I have a hug?” He asked sadly and you continued to give him that exhausted expression.

He was confused beyond belief, why weren’t you rushing to comfort him?

“No.” You stated turning the TV off. “W-wha- why?” You stood up. “Because I’m sick and tired of you just using me, we used to have such a great loving relationship now all you ever do is take your emotions out on me and expect me to comfort you!”

You rubbed your temples and you could tell he started to get mad. “I’m not u-using you! I didn’t say you couldn’t talk to me about anything-“ you cut him off “every-time I’d ever try to talk about anything you were always busy and didn’t have enough time for me. But when I’m doing something you can say whatever you want, I’m so done with it!” You shout angrily.

“B-but you can’t just-“ you cut him off again “No just shut the fuck up for five seconds! I understand you have problems and struggles and I have no issue with helping you but it’s become to the point where all you ever do is yell at me to make yourself feel better than leave me with a headache and heartache.”

He begins to cry while you can do nothing but glare at him. “We need to take a break, if you can’t see what you’re doing is wrong than the last thing I need is to be in a relationship with you.” You grab your phone. “Get your shit and get out, I’ll call you a taxi. When you’ve finally decided to not be an asshole you can talk to me, now go!” He drops to the ground sobbing uncontrollably on the ground holding onto your leg as he begs for forgiveness.

You kick him off making him stumble back. “If you don’t hurry up I’ll also add a restraining order to the list, now go. Get. Your. Stuff. Or I will set it on fire.” He slugs himself up sadly still crying as he goes to get his stuff. You turn the TV back on scrolling through whatever is on. He comes back down a few minutes later with his eyes all red sad. You look at your phone. “Taxi’s right around the corner go wait outside.” You speak emotionlessly.

He sniffles as the bright glaring lights of a car show up. You stand up putting your hand out. “Keys.” He whimpers not wanting to give them up. You yank his keys out his hand taking the one to your house. “Go.” He cries weakly walking towards the taxi. As soon as he sits down in the car you slam the door shut.

You sighed tiredly. You looked around the house, at the pictures of you and him. You both were so happy, but not anymore.

#könig x y/n #könig x male reader #König x NB reader #König #cod mw22 #call of duty

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blissxjj · 6 months

Note

I have another idea! Satan x MC who is scared of all animals (probably due to some terrible childhood experiences) but they never really mention it, since they don’t want to upset Satan. No one suspects it either because MC still loves and owns cat-themed items. One day Satan invites them along to play with cats and MC nervously but happily agrees, hoping they’ve finally gotten over their fear and quite giddy to see Satan in his element. Turns out a few minutes later MC gets too anxious to the point of tears, so they profusely apologise to Satan and leave. How would Satan react and how would he interact with MC after that?

If it seems too detailed or confusing please don’t force yourself to write it!!!! I’m already really glad and satisfied about my former request!!

Thanks for your request :3

Love the idea and here it is! hope you all like it <3

Satan X MC who is afraid of animals

SFW/Fuff

Satan:

You are a brave little human despite the power gap between you and many demons you still manage to stand your ground and fight for yourself

Except for when it's an animal we are talking about and not just devildom animals but animals in general

Back in the human world everyone in your school knew about your fear of ALL animals and avoided getting you in situations near animals except for some jerks who made your fear worst

But here in the devildom nobody knows about your fear because you really never told them or showed it, afraid that they will use it to threaten you, and even now knowing that they would never hurt you you still don't mention it

Because revealing your weakness might not be the greatest idea especially when you are already weak, the brothers don't own pets thanks to Lucifer's strict rules

But there is a certain blonde demon who is a huge animal lover specifically CATS

You were invited by Satan to play with these new toys he got for his cats and didn't want you to miss out on the cuteness

You walked in and immediately regretted your whole life decision that got you here in this situation

Satan didn't seem to notice your nervousness and all you thought about was his smile disappearing when you tell him that you don't want to play anymore

You suck it up and walk in and many cats brushed against your leg you push them away gently and Satan asked

"Why did you reject their love to you?"

"I just don't want hair to get on my clothes" you lied sitting on his bed and looked at all the toys he got

He must really love them getting 'em all these toys

"Are you ok MC? you seem nervous..." Satan asked

"No no no i am fine i am just tired that's all" you say fiddling with your hands

Satan just smiled and you could swear your heart did a back flip at the sight in front of you

The moment was cut off when a cat jumped on your lap and you squealed pushing it away

You stand up and immediately leave his room both scared and embarrassed at the same time

You run to your room and close the door behind you breathing heavily

"Ugh why did you run out with out saying anything" you said to yourself

You decided to forget about it when you hear a knock on your door

"MC are you in there? I just wanna talk" the familiar voice of Satan was heard outside your door

You open the door and let him in

"Was it something i said?" He immediately asked worried he made you upset

"No i was just-" you could feel tears about to pour out your eyes, Satan noticed it too and hugged you tight

You manage to control your tears and look up at him

"I am just afraid of animals Satan... including cats i didn't want to reject your offer because i wanted to spend time with you... even if it means comingface to face with my fear" once you said that

Satan's love for you tripled when you said that and his heart fluttered at the thought of you doing all this to spend time with him

"Are you mad at me?" You aksed panic in your voice

Satan just smiled and said

"Why would i be mad at you for something you can't control i am mad at my self for not being able to notice sooner"

He kissed you on the lips and you kissed back

Then hugging him tightly as he put his chin on your head

"I guess i will have to cancel all my date plans to The Cat Cafe" he chuckled then continued

"How does a classic dinner date sound?" He asked

"Perfect pick me up at eight?" You asked looking up at him

"You know it!....I love you so much MC"

"Love you too Satan"

There you go another Satan scenario hope you like it <3

Masterlist

#fanfic #fandom #stories #obey me #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me satan #obey me scenarios #obey me satan x mc #obey me satan x reader

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filthy-mudeoki · 8 months

Text

Little Star

Another wish, another dream made upon the stars. Who knew little whispers of the heart could be so powerful. It’s promises made and wishes granted with a future brighter than either could have imagined.

Tagging: @kairadiamond

These stories are now part of a series on AO3 called Slowly, then all at once

It's a been a while since the last fic! Of all the prompts I get, this one is the most requested. I hope in some way I have done it justice.

Thank you all for the wonderful response these stories have gotten.

Jiaxu is late again. It has been another late night at the office and he knows that Sang Zhi will understand. But he misses the routine of their nights together. This past week, he has come home to an unusually quiet house. Despite the lateness of his arrival, she is always waiting for him, more often than not dozing softly on the couch, but it makes him ache for the normality of their lives to return. Worse still, he knows Sang Zhi has not been feeling well, but she has made no fuss about this, not wanting to worry him. He feels terrible and promises that tonight will be the last late night for the foreseeable future.

He has the phone to his ear, as he leaves the office. She answers on the second ring.

“Wèi.”

He pauses. She doesn’t sound like her normal self. Tired, he notes and again the guilt rises. He’s all the more eager to get home now.

“Sang Zhi, what’s wrong?”

“Ah… nothing!” She tries to dissuade him but he knows her too well.

“Zhizhi…” he sighs, knowing she will not want to burden him. But he can’t have it be like this. “I’ll be home soon. I promise. We just had to fix the error. It took longer than we initially realised. I promise, no more late nights. I know you haven’t been feeling well lately. You keep saying it’s nothing but I don’t believe you. I know you don’t want to worry me but I am your husband. I’m allowed to worry and -”

“Jiaxu,” she chuckles softly and it gives him enough respite to stop his rambling. “I’m not angry. It’s okay.” She sounds hesitant but Jiaxu doesn’t interrupt. “There’s just … are you really leaving the office now?”

“Yes. I’ll be home soon.”

“Hmm. Okay.” He can almost picture her fiddling on the other end of the line.

“Are you okay?” He’s hesitant to ask but he has to know.

She’s silent for a moment and that scares him slightly. “Yes.” Her voice is a little stronger than before. He knows she’s not lying. “I’ll be waiting.”

“Okay.”

He can barely get the words out fast enough before she cuts the call. He doesn’t waste another moment and gets into his car. It’s a bit of a blur but he manages to get himself home in good time. His mind goes into overdrive thinking over what could have made his usually so confident Zhizhi sound so unsure of herself.

He toes his shoes off the moment he arrives home. It takes him a moment longer to notice the change in the apartment. Sure enough, it’s still quiet but there is a new, softer ambience to the room, now that it’s decorated in delicate fairy lights and candles. Jiaxu smiles immediately trying to find Sang Zhi. He doesn’t see her. But he does notice the set up on the table and makes out what he thinks is a cake too. His mind races once more to try and figure out if he’s missed an anniversary of some kind. He knows he hasn’t missed their official anniversary. It’s impossible to miss that one as it shares a date with his birthday, which is more than two weeks away. Their wedding anniversary is not for another few months. The set up makes it feel like it’s a celebration of some kind. He’s just not sure what it is yet. Nevertheless, the scene settles some of his immediate panic and he allows himself a moment to catch his breath.

Is this what caused Sang Zhi to sound so anxious over the phone? She’s always so good at planning little surprises like this, that Jiaxu has to wonder what is so special about this one that she should be so nervous.

Dropping his bag, Jiaxu takes a step further into the apartment, closer to the table. He can’t deny it’s prettily decorated and his heart leaps as he takes in the effort his Zhizhi has put in for him. Despite the fact that he feels like he has been neglectful lately, she has gone the extra mile to make him feel loved. Though he has to wonder what she’s got up her sleeve. Because there on the table, is his (or rather her) orange plushie fox and the white bear he had once given her. It’s the sight of another familiar object that causes his gait to slow even more.

The jar sits temptingly between the two plushies. He picks it up, inspecting it closely. He sees the few little stars they have added together, over the years. He notices there are two new stars in the jar. Jiaxu has yet to see Sang Zhi but he plays along, knowing she has done this purely for his sake.

Opening the jar, he tips it until the two new stars land in his hand. It’s distinctly different from the others. One bright pink and the other a deep blue, that helps it stand out against the soft pastels of the other stars in the jar. They’re slightly larger in size too and Jiaxu wonders what secrets Sang Zhi has written on these this time. Oddly enough, these stars have the numbers one and two respectively on them, indicating the order in which they should be opened.

Before he attempts to unfold the star, he looks around the apartment one more time, hoping to catch sight of her. But he doesn’t. Still, he doesn’t stop smiling as he adjusts his glasses, unfolds the blue star with the number one on it. Jiaxu brings it closer to read. He knows her hand writing to know this little star is one of her wishes. Nevertheless, it takes a moment for the words to sink in.

‘For Duan Jiaxu to have a family of his own.’

Jiaxu stares at it for a moment, trying to decipher the meaning behind it. He brings the paper up closer for inspection and as he does so, a memory runs through his mind. It’s fuzzy and he’s not entirely sure if there is really a link between the star in his hand and that one moment. He turns the paper over in his hand as he thinks it over. Certainly, he has no complaints about the family he finds himself surrounded by. It’s more than he could have asked for.

He wants to find Sang Zhi and ask her what she means by this little star. He almost puts down the star to go find her when he remembers the second one in his hand. His curiosity and eagerness win over as he turns to the second star. Jiaxu unfolds the pink star and he sucks in a surprised breath as he reads it.

“Pópo, I am making good on my promise to you. I’m going to give Jiaxu the family he deserves.”

It takes even longer for those words to sink in. Especially, now that the memory becomes clearer. He remembers, Sang Zhi saying these very words as they had knelt before his mother’s grave all those years ago in Yihe. Surely, he has this now. Sang Zhi and Sang Yan are undoubtedly his family. But so are her parents and the small smattering of friends they’ve managed to keep here in Nanwu.

This little wish was written from Sang Zhi to his mother and he can’t ignore what this could possibly mean. The new implications of her words echo in his mind and heart. Suddenly, the paper in his hand feels impossibly fragile. He’s vaguely aware that perhaps his hands are shaking. But he does not want to think on it too heavily, does not want to jump to the wrong conclusion.

He needs to find his wife. He needs to know for certain what these little stars mean.

When he looks up, Sang Zhi is standing in front of him. So lost in his thoughts, he has not heard her come in. She looks so lovingly at him and he wants to reach out and hold her close. But first he needs answers. Still, he does not ask, some part of him afraid that it is not what he thinks it is. What he now so desperately wants it to be.

“Sang Zhi…?”

She smiles at him and that gives him more hope than he could have imagined. But she doesn’t say anything. All Jiaxu can do is watch as she steps closer, taking his hand in hers. Turning it over, she places on more star in his hand. This star, red in colour makes his hand tremble once more.

Carefully he unfolds it, releasing a shaky breath as the words written there finally register for him. He’s got tears in his eyes already as he reads it over and over again.

‘Jiaxu + Sang Zhi = bàba & māma’

“Zhizhi …”

There is a question to his voice because he cannot find the words beyond her name. Still, she understands and nods, her lips pressed tightly together as she tries to hold back her own tears.

“You really are…?” he trails off looking at her with a new intensity.

“Yes.”

There is a teary chuckle that escapes her and she smiles, unable to hold back her joy any longer. She’s beyond overjoyed and has been planning the best way to share this news with Jiaxu since she found out. She chose tonight, simply because she could no longer keep the news to herself.

“I am … and you … we really…” he struggles to find the words, but his smile is bigger and brighter than she has ever seen it.

She laughs again, nodding and Jiaxu immediately regains enough sense to pull her close. She wraps her arms around him as he buries his head into the crook of her neck. She can feel the evidence of his tears against her skin and it makes her hug him closer.

Jiaxu holds tightly to his wife, his one hand still clutches the stars tightly, unable to let go of either. They stay like that for a while, the magnificence of the news taking its time to settle in his heart.

When he pulls back, he sees that Sang Zhi has been crying too. He wipes her tears away. His words are still stuck in his throat. Sang Zhi leans into his touch and Jiaxu crouches a little to press a kiss to her forehead. Her hands fall to grasp his shirt loosely in her hands.

“I still can’t believe this,” he finally whispers.

“Me too,” she chuckles.

“Are … are you happy with this?”

She looks at his with a slightly furrowed brow. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re at a great place in your career now. A baby will be a lot more for us both… I just …”

“Jiaxu,” she says putting him out of his misery, “There is nothing more I want. I promise. You’re happy too, right?”

“Unbelievably,” he says beaming down at her.

He gently takes her face in his hands and she laughs. Jiaxu leans down and silences her laughter with a soft barely- there kiss. Then another and then at long last as his lips hover over hers, he looks down at her with nothing but pure love in his eyes. It’s enough to stop her heart. He kisses her, and every little piece of happiness that he feels, she feels too.

When she pulls back, they’re both nearly breathless, not just from the kiss but all the emotions that pass between them.

Jiaxu wraps an arm around Sang Zhi as he shifts the pieces of paper from one hand to the other. He’s still smiling as he holds them out in the small space between them.

“I never knew these stars could carry such wonderful wishes.” He reads it again this time aloud, in something of an awed whisper. “Bàba & māma.”

His fingers trace over the words and Sang Zhi notices he’s as awed by the notion as she is. It’s been a few days since she found out, but it still feels like an unbelievable dream.

“Bàba & māma,” she repeats softly.

He holds the pieces of paper out to her. “Will you fold it for me again?”

She nods and takes the first one, folding it this way and that. He watches but doesn’t say a word until she’s almost done with the third star.

“I’m going to keep these extra safe,” he tells her. He looks at the now neatly folded stars in his hand and shakes his head a little disbelievingly. “These little stars … Zhizhi I can’t tell you what this means to me.”

“I know.”

And she does. More than anybody else, she does understand what this means to him. She knows that Jiaxu is going to be the best father to their baby. It’s why she’s not as scared as she thought she would be. Knowing she would be sharing this journey with him eased a lot of her own worries and fears. But she is also aware that Jiaxu has fears of his own.

“You’re going to be the best bàba, Duan Jiaxu,” she tells him. Sang Zhi doesn’t leave room for argument as she cups his cheek. He does not look up from the stars in his hand, but she knows he’s got tears in his eyes again. “You really are.”

He lets out a shaky little breath and slowly nods, before looking up at her. His brow furrows a little as he leaners in closer. “You’re doing it again,” he playfully accuses.

“Doing what?” she frowns slightly.

“Making all my dreams come true.”

Sang Zhi blushes and smiles so broadly Jiaxu can only think how lovely she looks before kissing her once more.

Jiaxu runs a hand down her back as they pull back. He gives the stars in his hand one last look before deciding they need to be kept away for safe keeping. Lucky enough the jar is not far out of reach and he opens it up again. They both watch as he gently tips the stars back into the jar. They fall in and settle with the rest. He closes the jar and holds it up for them both to see. The two new stars still stand out and he loves that the most.

Sang Zhi laughs and he glances down at her with a raised brow. She’s got a playful twinkle in her eyes. “I was just wondering; do you know any lullabies?”

“Ah… I guess I’ll have to learn a few,” he admits. Truthfully, he does not know much and he’s not entirely sure about his singing voice. He tells her as much.

“I don’t think our baby will care how terrible your singing is, so long as it’s you.”

His heart nearly leaps from his chest when he hears her words. Our baby.

“Wait… I never said it was terrible.”

Sang Zhi does her best to hide her smile. “Oh? Well, I thought…”

“I was only saying it might not be the greatest. Terrible is Sang Yan,” he teases. She laughs, and he hugs her closer.

Sang Zhi leans into his embrace and Jiaxu shifts them, taking a seat at the table. Sang Zhi ends up sitting in his lap, her back pressed to his front, the jar of stars now in her hand.

They’re both looking at it, knowing everything will be different now. “We’ll have to tell them.”

Jiaxu nods. “Hhm, whenever you’re ready to.”

“Maybe … after we see the doctor,” she says thinking it over.

There is so much to do before they are ready to tell their family. She wants this to be just for them for a little while longer. She knows this baby will be undeniably spoilt and she can’t wait for that. But she also wants it to be just the three of them for a little while longer.

Jiaxu rests his chin on her shoulder as his hand wraps around hers and the jar she is still holding. He’s quiet for a long while and she wonders where his thoughts have taken him.

“Zhizhi?”

“Hhm?”

“Xièxiè,” he whispers.

Sang Zhi smiles shyly. “For this?”

His hands leave the jar and come to rest over her stomach. It’s a gentle touch but it thrills her all the same.

“Not just for this. For everything.” His voice is not as steady as he would like it but Jiaxu knows she will understand the weight of his words. Her fingers reach out to intertwine with his over her stomach. “And I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He doesn’t have to see her face to know she’s furrowing her brow in that adorable way she does when she gets confused or flustered.

“I’ve been neglecting you. All these late nights.” He says and can sense she is ready to counter that but he doesn’t let her. “I’m sorry. I know you have not been feeling well and I should have been here. I promise, I’ll better in the future.”

Sang Zhi leans further into his embrace as she answers. “It’s okay. I am not angry. Besides, we now know why I wasn’t feeling well. It’s going to be a while before it stops.” She squeezes their intertwined fingers, hoping he will hear the sincerity in her voice. “I know you’ve been working so hard Jiaxu, to give me this wonderful life. Please don’t feel guilty because you haven’t been neglecting me. I only want you to promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“You’ll take good care of yourself, especially when you’re working so hard. So that no matter what, you can come home every night… to us.”

His eyes fall shut as he lets that sink in. There is now one more person who will be waiting for him at home. Another reason for everything that he does.

“Always,” Jiaxu promises. “Wǒ ài nǐ, Zhizhi.”

“Wǒ ài nǐ,” she whispers as he presses a kiss to her temple.

He glances down at the jar and suddenly an answer to the question she had asked earlier comes to mind.

“I know a song,” he says so suddenly, it confuses Sang Zhi for second. “I mean I know a lullaby. I think I still remember some of the words too.”

“Really? Which one?”

“Qīsèguāng zhī gē.”

Sang Zhi tries to recall this one. The Song of the Sunlight.

“What is it about?” It sounds familiar but it’s been a while since she’s last thought about such things as a lullaby. They will both need to do some brushing up on that.

“It’s about a promise of a bright tomorrow no matter what the day has brought.” His voice goes a little quieter as he admits, “My mother liked singing it.”

She thinks it’s a pretty perfect lullaby for the baby and she tells him as much.

Jiaxu relaxes into his seat as Sang Zhi falls against him too. He loves moments like this when it’s just the two of them but he quickly realises, it won’t be just the two of them any longer. Jiaxu is excited beyond measure for that. Sang Zhi has her eyes closed, but she’s idly playing with his fingers and it awakens a new part of him. He has always been protective of his Zhizhi but suddenly, that instinct feels like it might go into overdrive. His hand is now gently resting over her belly, and his fingers flex slightly at the thought of protecting them both.

His Zhizhi and their little star – because that is what this baby is. A wish and a dream that he had never dared to speak out loud because truthfully, he has wanted it more than he was willing to admit. And yet here it was, now so tangible in his very hands. It feels impossibly wonderful.

There is no doubt that Sang Zhi is more than just the one who hangs the moon and stars in his world. Although, Jiaxu thinks she is actually more like the sun, bringing such warmth and love into his life, giving him a thousand little stars to wish on every day. Especially after all the bad days, there is always love and happiness in all the spaces she occupies in his life.

So, if his Zhizhi is the sun, the one that led him through the darkness and lights up the possibilities of all his dreams, handing it over one little star at a time. Then, undoubtedly their child will be one of those precious little stars - the embodiment of their love and dreams all wrapped into one little heart and soul.

There is only one thought that echoes through his heart as they sit quietly together. One thought that makes him inexplicably happy.

‘His Zhizhi and their xiǎo xīngxīng.’

.....

Wèi – Hi

Pó po - mother-in-law

Xièxiè- thank you

Wǒ ài nǐ – love you

Qīsèguāng zhī gē – the Song of the Sunlight

Xiǎo xīngxīng – little star ao3

#hidden love #hidden love fanfic #duan jiaxu #sang zhi #duan jiaxu x sang zhi #duan jiaxu and his zhizhi #pregnancy prompt #romance #cdrama #fanfic writer #also on ao3 #honourable Sang Yan mention #married couple #future fic #future family #its a fluff fest #chen zheyuan #zhao lusi #ao3 fanfic

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chaotic-on-main · 9 months

Note

Summer Event! 💕

Matcha Green Tea Ice Cream,

Kitchen Sink option but make it a surprise!

Thank you for being so understanding & sweet, I get really anxious if you can't tell haha. You're a dear💕✨

Order up!! One matcha green tea cone with everything but the kitchen sink for Eri!!

Sky's Summer and 250 Follower Event!

☾ Pairings ➼ janitor!Levi Ackerman x fem!people-pleaser!Reader

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ modernAU, meet-cute(kinda?), familial trauma, hurt/comfort, fluff, accidental therapy (for me), corporate ick

☾ Author's Note ➼ Hi Eri!! Thank you so much for sending this request in. I was a little worried with the whole "make it a surprise" because I struggle with lack of structure BUT I'm so proud of how this came out. I couldn't stop writing, as you can see. This might be a little self-indulgent and I hope I got the emotions right since I struggle with them. I just want Levi to call me out on my shit, okay?? Anyways, I hope you enjoy!! love you k bye *smooches*

☾ Word Count ➼ ~7.6k (oops)

“Hi, you’re the new hire right? It’s nice to meet you, I’m Carol from a few rows down. Listen, I hate to do this to you since you’re so new but you’re the only one I can ask. Would you be able to do the data entry on the Sina job? I can’t stay past closing tonight due to my set plans and unfortunately it’s due tomorrow morning. Could you help me out? I’ll pay you back!”

The voice of your overly excited brunette coworker reverberates through your skull as you type away at your desk, the bright light of your monitor biting at your eyes just like the migraine you feel in the back of your head. You had a feeling that this is not the first time the people in the office have picked on the newcomers, and you bet it wouldn’t be the last. You chalk it up the fact that you were still in the office past seven in the evening doing someone else’s work because they dropped the stack of papers on your desk before you could say anything back, but you knew better. Damn your pathological people pleasing tendencies.

Your chair squeaks as you lean back in it, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose as you sigh heavily. It’s a handful of days into your first week and you’re already daydreaming about your next vacation. An office job was not your first go to, but as all struggling artists do, you needed this job to supplement your income until your art took off – if that ever happened.

Thoughts of how much longer you’d have to be here swirl through your mind when you’re interrupted by a loud thunk a few cubicles down. It startles you so much that you jump up as your eyes shoot open, hand over your heart in an attempt to calm it. You weren’t aware of anyone else in the building so you can’t help but think there might be a mass murderer just feet away from you. Steeling your resolve, you push yourself up from your chair and carefully peek over the half wall to see what had made that noise.

At first you don’t see anything as your eyes adjust from seeing nothing to the semi-lit office floor from the setting sun and dimmed overheads. Down the row, you see the back of a man in what you assume to be a gray janitor’s suit. An undercut peeks between short raven locks, neck lines sharp giving away to a clean cut. It doesn’t seem like he notices you’re there as his attention is focused on the waste basket in front of him.

You sit back down slowly, heaving a heavy sigh from relief that it was indeed not a mass murderer – well, that you know of. He didn’t seem threatening from far away at least. Your hands hover on the keyboard as you do your best to blink away the tired. Only a few more pages now, you reassure yourself.

An hour later, miraculously you find yourself down to the last page. The miscellaneous words and numbers swim off the page as you force yourself to focus. With the promise of a late night treat, you finally make it down to the last line. Just as you’re about to hit ‘enter’, something kicks the back of your chair causing you to yelp loudly and slam down on the keys harder than you meant.

“What are you still doing here?” A deep voice grumbles from behind you, making your ears twitch at the sudden volume difference. You twist around in your chair to see who the voice belongs to and you’re surprised to see it coming from the janitor you saw earlier. What’s even more surprising is how young he looks, and handsome to boot - despite the look he’s giving you. Stark gray-blue lidded eyes stare down at you as he scowls, eyebrows pinched together. He doesn’t look pleased.

“I-I’m sorry. I’m working on some…” Your voice falters when his expression turns into annoyance.

“You’re in my way.” He simply states as he leans against a vacuum you only now notice sitting under his arm. Was your focus so strong that you completely missed the sounds of him cleaning around you?

“Oh, uh. Yeah, let me get out of your way then.” You say timidly, pushing yourself out of the chair. You’re face to face with him at standing height, even in your work heels. This was a very intimidating man despite his short stature.

“I’m not going to clean with you breathing down my neck.” He grumbles, eyes narrowing at you like you asked him the most offensive question known to man. Your lips part as you struggle to find your words, but nothing comes out as you find yourself low-key panicking.

“I c-can just-”

“Just finish what you’re working on, I’ll just come back.” He rolls his eyes before walking away, leaving you and the vacuum illuminated by your computer screen. You ball your hands in fists to keep them from shaking.

Exhaling a weak breath, you sit back down and force yourself to focus on the last line of data instead of the glowering expression of your office’s janitor.

You slam your forehead into the vinyl coating of your desk, not hard enough to leave a bruise but enough to hear the echoes of contact through the whole floor. It’s nearing seven at night again and you’re still in office catching up on yet another coworker’s workload.

When they asked what plans you had tonight, you didn’t think that saying you were going home to watch TV would bite you in the ass. If you were completely honest, you had quietly hoped they might be asking if you wanted to go out for drinks with them. After all, they were the only ones that had really talked to you in the past few weeks but you’re starting to wonder if they were just trying to butter you up to get you to say yes to their requests.

Who were you kidding though, you would have said yes anyways because the word ‘no’ didn’t exist in your vocabulary. You wish you weren’t so aware of that fact because not only are you stressed out, you’re full of self loathing. A groan escapes your lips.

“Still doing other people’s work?” You hear a familiar voice grumble from behind.

After lifting your head up from the cool desk, you swivel around in your chair to see the janitor – this time in dark blue. A white handkerchief wraps around his face, covering his mouth and nose so that all you see are his tired eyes. A same-colored bandana adorns his head with some of his bangs falling into his eyes. You bite your tongue to keep yourself from asking what the point of the bandana was if it didn’t keep his hair out of his face.

It takes you a moment to find your voice, partly from not using it for so long but also because of the steady unfriendly feeling radiating off him. He raises an eyebrow at you as you stare up at him almost dumbfounded.

“I- who said I was doing other people’s work?” You finally make out, voice trembling.

“You’re new, right? The office goons do that to every newbie that comes in.” He folds his arms over his chest and you see that his sleeves are rolled up to show his toned forearms, muscles popping up from the position they’re in. Your eyes flicker back up to his, blinking slowly.

“I’m sure but they needed the help, so...”

“Because they would rather slack off than do any work. They’re taking advantage of you and you’re falling for it? You’re an adult, right?” There isn’t malice in his words but they still sting.

“Of course I am! I work here, don’t I?” Your eyes widen in emphasis, sweeping your hands around you.

“Tch, that doesn’t make you an adult. I’ve been here for years and I’ve seen my fair share of children.” His scowl reappears at those words. You’ve never met someone so grumpy.

You close your mouth at that, not sure what else to say. He clicks his tongue and flips a small towel over his shoulder. Turning on his heel, he sets off down the aisle without another word, the sounds of his heavy boots getting quieter.

You don’t get done until 10:30 that night. On your way out, you pass by the janitor who was currently on the inside of the board meeting glass walls, wiping them down with what you suppose is glass cleaner. His eyes meet yours as you walk by and you offer a small wave and smile even though his short words still sting. You think he’s going to ignore you but instead, he gives you a curt nod.

The janitor’s words swim through your mind the next time you’re asked to stay behind to help out. You spent the last couple of weeks doing your best practicing in the shower on setting boundaries with your coworkers but when the person who came to you next was your supervisor, how could you say no.

You were in the middle of packing your bag while lost in thought of your weekend plans when she came to you. You’re thinking you might stop by the evening market by the river before heading home with some food from the local vendors when a finger taps on your shoulder followed by your name coming out in a honey-laced voice.

“Hey, I just wanted to stop by and commend you on being such a team player in the last month. It’s something we find rare in someone as young as you and of course we’re grateful.” Your red-haired boss beams down at you while she talks. The feeling of ice pricks in your veins at what you know was coming next.

“I’m really sorry to come to you so last minute and on a Friday no less, but because of your wonderful work ethic, you’re the only one I can trust to complete The Warrior Project. It’s been extremely slow going and we need it done by Monday. Do you think you can stay behind and help us out?” She offers you an apologetic smile, eyes boring into yours with sincerity.

You wished you could have said no but the words died before they made it out of your mouth, instead agreeing meekly with a fake smile.

So now here you sit at your desk with the dying rays of light rising higher against the back walls as the sun sets, fingers flying across the keyboard. You suppose you’ll have to stop by the late night convenience store on the way home for some dinner; your face scrunches up at the thought of your very limited choices.

“If you type any harder, you’ll break it.” You don’t bother to turn around at the voice, knowing damn well who it was.

“I’m sure they’ll get me another one. They need me to finish this, after all.” You mutter the last part under your breath. The smell of something sweet and tangy hits your nose and on contact, your stomach rumbles loudly.

Swiveling in your chair, you’re met with the janitor who’s simultaneously holding a feather duster as well as a bag of what looks like Chinese take-out. Your eyes widen at the sight, bouncing back and forth between the objects in his hand.

“Are you here to eat or dust?” You ask, finally looking up to his face. There’s no expression on his pretty face. You still haven’t gotten over how stunning he was, with his pointed nose and pouty bottom lip. Today he has his janitor uniform half on, the sleeves of the suit tied around his waist so that it’s only pants. Tucked in is a black t-shirt that shows more of his muscular arms. He’s not ripped by any means but it’s very obvious he exercises on his time off.

“I’m here to dust. This is for you to eat.” He says dryly, shoving the bag in your direction. Once again, you find your words stolen as you stare at the brown paper bag that sits curled in his pale fingers. Your eyes shift back and forth between his face and the food.

“F-for me? Why?”

“Whenever I see you here late, you never eat. You need to take better care of yourself.”

“I eat when I get home.” You retort back softly. A late night meal for you consists of a single serving bag of chips and whatever looked edible at the convenience store – but you wouldn’t tell him that.

“Just eat it.” He pushes it forward to you again, the warm smells of food wafting past your nose. It smelled like heaven.

“I- no. I can’t take that, it’s yours!” You wave your hands in front of your chest in a dismissive manner. A dark eyebrow shoots up his face.

“So she can say no.” He reaches over you and places the paper bag down on your desk. Along with the smells of delicious food, the scent of clean laundry and musky pine tickles your nose. It’s a very pleasant combination, and one you were not expecting. “Eat it, throw it away, I don’t care.” He says casually before turning around and walking off. Your hand reaches out in an attempt to stop him, but he’s long gone.

Twisting your chair around, you eye the paper bag for a moment before finally caving. Your stomach is about to eat itself and he had paid for it, so you don’t want to waste it. Why he would care enough about you to order food is a mystery, though.

Upon opening the contents, you’re greeted with a small foil dish with a plastic covering holding what you believe is orange chicken. A little white box off to the side contains sticky rice and in the little plastic package next to it holds some spring rolls – all still steaming hot and smelling wonderful.

You spend the next half hour scarfing down your dinner while thinking about how you’d pay the janitor back. The flush that started creeping up your cheeks at the end of your encounter with him stays even when you go to bed late that night.

The week after, you intentionally slow down on your daily work so that you had a reason to stay late and finish it. But much to your dismay, you don’t see the janitor anywhere. You’d leave each night a little embarrassed at yourself for being so excited for someone you’ve talked to a handful of times, but to your benefit you had a reason for your madness.

Finally, you gather enough courage to peep your head over your half-wall and grab your coworker’s attention – whose attention was on a mobile game in his hands and not on the spreadsheets in front of his face.

“Ryan?” You whisper-shout down. Your brunette coworker’s eyes shoot up to yours, almost in a panic.

“What? Is the boss lady making her rounds?” He asks back. You sweep your eyes around the office floor and finally find your supervisor who was currently in a meeting with other board members.

“She’s busy, you’re fine. I actually had a question?” You didn’t realize how soft you were speaking until he stood up to meet you, towering a good foot above you with his ear down to you.

“What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you knew when the janitor might be back? I haven’t seen him in a few days.” You subconsciously start picking at your nails – a nervous habit.

Ryan stares at you as he processes your words before throwing his head back in bellowing laughter. You’re quick to shush him and duck your head down from the glares aimed your way at such a loud disturbance.

“Not so loud!!” You whisper-shout again.

“I’m sorry, I’m just curious why you want to know? He doesn’t like anyone, and no one likes him.” He shrugs his shoulders. You so badly want to tell him to shut up and that you like him, but instead you settle on trying to get him to answer your question.

“Well, what’s his schedule?” You narrow your eyes in hopes of getting the message across that you were serious.

“Well, that’s the thing, he’s always working. Sometimes even on the weekends. From what I heard, his cleaning routes are the same every week. He doesn’t get to our floor until late in the week. He has a thing for cleaning, so I heard, and that’s why there’s only one janitor contracted. He’s so weird.” Ryan rolls his eyes as he rests his chin against the top of the wall.

“What’s his name?”

“Why do you care so much about the janitor?” It’s Ryan’s turn to narrow his eyes to you. You’re asking too many questions and he’s getting far too nosy about your business. It’s best to retreat for now.

“Uh, it’s nothing. Thank you.” You squeak before plopping yourself down at your chair and pretending to click around on your word documents until you no longer feel the pierce of your coworker’s stare.

So he’s always here, you think. You’re just missing him on your way down. You bite back a smile as you glance down to the clock at the bottom corner of your screen. The time reads 4:37pm and it’s a Thursday which meant that he would be around your floor this evening. Perfect. Your eyes sweep over to your bag in your excitement.

In the time it takes for you to wait for the gray-blue eyed janitor, you’ve finished half of the next day’s work. A part of you starts to wonder if he isn’t coming tonight, that it may be tomorrow instead, and weirdly you find yourself hoping one of your coworkers would ask you to help them out again so that you had a reason to stay.

“That’s so stupid.” You say out loud as you stir sugar into the black tea you had spent the last 5 minutes steeping. You’re standing in the office break room, lost in thought.

“I’m sure the mug doesn’t feel that way.” That voice makes your heart flutter, and you bite back the smile that threatens to curve into your face. Instead, you pinch your lips together and turn around.

The janitor is there alright, uniform zipped up tight as he holds a spray bottle and a rag. He’s leaning against the doorframe of the break room, arms folded across his chest. His black hair falls into his face, almost kissing the corners of his heavy-lidded eyes as they watch you intently.

“Ah, there you are!” You exclaim, pointing your spoon at him.

“Here I am.”

“I have something to give you as payback for dinner last week.” You muse, grinning at him. His eyes widened briefly before going back to normal.

“And why would you do that?”

“Because I’m grateful for it, dummy.” Carefully, you place your spoon next to your mug and walk towards him until you’re face to face. It takes him a moment to realize you were waiting for him to move, and carefully he backs away so that you have room to escape.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.” You order before dashing off to your cubicle.

When you come back with the gift in hand, you see that the janitor hadn’t moved an inch. His intimidating eyes follow you as you stop in front of him, slightly breathless from speed walking back. An eyebrow raises at you as he waits for you to catch your breath.

“I-ah. Okay. So. I made these for you. I ended up having to make a fresh batch because I didn’t see you for a bit and I didn’t want to feed you stale cookies so. Anyways, here. Thank you for feeding me last week.” You beam up at him as you hold your hands out to show him your gift.

It’s a small plastic bag wrapped with a pastel bow. The contents of the bag include bite sized cookies that you spent all last night remaking in hopes you would see him again. They’re pale yellow in color, dusted with a light coat of cane sugar. His eyes widen again at your gesture, this time staying big as they stare at the bag in your hand like its gold.

“You… made these for me?” His voice is low.

“I did! I don’t know if you like sweets but these are my mother’s recipe and her cookies were never that sweet. Pretty much the sweetness comes from the sugar on top. The rest are just buttery goodness.” You gush as you stare off in thought, the happy memories of your mom making these cookies for you flooding your brain.

When your eyes fall back to the raven-haired man, you’re almost tempted to run away in embarrassment. His neutral expression stares back at you and you take a small step back.

“I’m sorry, this is probably weird. You don’t have to take them actually. In fact, I’ll just le-“

“No, you’re fine. I uh, I appreciate it.” He quickly reaches out and grabs the bag, the sound of crinkling plastic taking up space in the nearly empty mess room. You offer him a small smile, grateful that he accepted the gift. His eyes trail past you and onto the kitchen counter behind you. He purses his lips as he thinks but finally opens his mouth to speak.

“Pour that disgusting excuse for a tea out and follow me. Bring the mug.” He says tersely before turning on his heels and out the door. You blink hard a few times as your brain processes his words but quickly you find yourself dumping out the tea and chasing after him down the cubicle aisles.

Soon, you’re sitting on the ground with the janitor as he pours steaming amber liquid from the thermos he pulled out of his cleaning cart just mere moments ago. It splashes into the bottom of your mug and fills it quickly, then he hands it over to you as he starts speaking.

“So are you a workaholic or…” He gives you a side eye.

“I should be asking you that. I’ve been told you work practically every day, even on weekends.” You hold the mug by the handle as you stare down into the cup. “Is this…?”

“It’s tea and no I didn’t poison it.”

“What was wrong with the tea I had?”

“Stale tea leaves don’t make for a good cup of tea.” He states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “No, I’m not a workaholic. I like to clean, and I get paid for it. Plus, I’m left alone. Usually.” He grumbles the last part, but you don’t detect any hostility in his voice.

“Well, I’m not either. A-a workaholic, I mean.”

“No, I suppose not. Just a people pleaser then?” His statement makes you splutter on the tea you had just sipped on. Despite it going almost everywhere, the bitter taste of the dark leaves bite at your taste buds. It’s unsweetened and you can’t keep the slight look of distaste off your face. Luckily, it’s covered up by the glare you shoot his way.

You don’t say anything back at that, knowing any denial would have been a lie but you didn’t want to confirm it either. However, you can’t hold back the annoyance that simmers in your chest at such a presumptuous statement, from someone you hardly know, no less.

“Beats being disliked by everyone.” You mutter finally, setting your mug on the floor next to you. Your eyes drift to the floor-to-ceiling window you were both sitting in front of. The last dreg of golden sunlight warms your face as you stare out into the bustling city as they prepare for the evening.

“You say that like it should bother me.”

“Shouldn’t it though?”

“Why would it?”

“Don’t you want people to like you?” You whisper softly, dragging your gaze over to his face. There’s no readable expression on his face as he sips his tea out of the top of his thermos lid. He’s holding it in a way you’ve never seen before – long fingers gripping the metal from the top rim and tilting it back into his mouth.

“I don’t give a shit if they like me or not.” He says finally as he gives you a side eye.

You’re not sure if your surprise at his callous attitude is warranted or not. Your interactions with him have been few and far in between but that night he got you dinner, you thought maybe he was a little more caring than that.

“Why do you care if people like you anyway?” He leans back on a hand, his other cradling his cup.

“I just- well. I don’t know.” You say simply. You do know.

“I read this thing about people-pleasers. It said that they’re great manipulators. They bend and break just so that others tolerate and like them, pretending to be something they’re not. Are you trying to get something out of it?”

Your eyes snap to his, feeling the heat behind your stare at his insinuation. Where did he get off calling you a manipulator? A pretender? Despite the subtle rage dancing in your eyes, you give him a smile and push yourself off the ground, grabbing your mug on your way up.

“Thank you for the tea. I really must be going now.” You say politely, voice coming out higher than you meant.

“Tch.” Is all you get back.

With that, you turn on your heel and head back to the break room to pour your tea out and rinse the mug, leaving it out on the rack to dry. You’re quick to gather your things before practically running down the aisles to the elevator, down to the front door, and towards home. A lump in your throat stays even after your shower and still when you lie down for the night.

After your last encounter with the janitor, you find that you’re rushing home as soon as you can. You aren’t necessarily mad at him for telling you a hard truth, but the rumination of having someone being annoyed at you doesn’t go away.

Your evasive tactics work for a while. Your office was in between projects and jobs so no one had come to you for help for anything. But of course that didn’t stay that way for long and your luck would run out as it always had as the quarter was about to close. Your supervisor came to you early on a rainy Tuesday morning to tell you that some freak accident had happened to the last reports which made the data you spent days organizing completely disappear.

You don’t know what was more frustrating: the fact that your hard work from the last week had completely vanished or the fact that no one in the office offered to give a helping hand when you needed it the most.

Your supervisor apologized and said the entries needed to be done by the next morning so they could be submitted in time for the quarter review. With a forced smile and false-positive voice, you agreed and got started on it right away.

This was about 12 hours ago.

The only thing that brings you solace is the knowledge that the janitor was not due for your floor for a couple days so at least you could work on it without worrying about running into him. And thankfully for you since you were semi-prepared for being held back, you ordered pizza for dinner before the front doors locked for the evening.

For some reason, you find yourself sitting on the floor in the same spot you had shared bitter tea with the janitor. You’re lying on your back with your phone hovering as you scroll on it mindlessly, a more than half filled pizza box next to you with the lid propped open slightly. There’s a vacation photo that pops up from one of your acquaintances that makes your chest tighten from envy.

“You’re in my way, brat.” A voice from above rings out. It startles you so much that your fingers loosen on your phone, and it comes smacking into your face with a loud slap. Your eyes scrunch shut from the stinging pain radiating from your nose as you groan softly.

You sit up from your position, making sure to grab your phone before it falls on the ground, and turn to narrow your eyes at the perpetually scowling janitor. You hear a subtle pop in your back as you do.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice comes out more accusatory than you meant, and you end up clearing your throat before giving him a forced smile.

“I’m working. That’s more than I can say for you.”

“You’re not supposed to be on this floor today.”

“Says who?” An eyebrow quirks at your statement.

The words die on your tongue because even you knew that one person’s word was not enough to be reliable. You reach over to close the pizza box and gather your things to leave. He doesn’t say anything and only stares while you push yourself up onto your feet.

“I’ll just get out of your way, then.” You mumble, bending down to grab the pizza box in one hand and your empty cup in the other. As you brush past him, you can’t help but wonder if he’s still mad at you, though you can’t logically find a reason why he would be mad in the first place. And if he was, then what did you do? These thoughts are jarred as a vibration in your back pocket alerts you to a notification. Upon more buzzes and the start of your soft ringtone, you realize it’s a phone call.

Stepping over to the nearest desk, you set your stuff down and pull out your phone. On the screen is the caller ID for your mom, her faux-happy face staring straight at you as the lights around it pulse. You don’t fight the grimace that etches into your features. Hitting the green button, you regret it immediately.

“Hi mom!” You exclaim, forcing another smile on your lips.

“There you are! I really thought you had died on us.”

“Of course, I’m not dead. Just busy!” You state happily, turning around to face the windows again. A relieved sigh escapes when you notice the janitor is no longer standing where he was.

“You should call us more. You know I was talking to our neighbor about you recently! Remember Donna and her kids? Apparently her youngest just got engaged. And it got me thinking…” Your mother’s words trail off as your eyes glaze over. Your pulse is steadily picking up speed with every word, and you grip the edge of the desk tightly to keep yourself grounded.

“Anyways, both of your sisters are coming to visit with their little families. When are you planning to come by? It would be nice to have everyone home again. Maybe this time with a man on your arm?”

“Oh, I don’t know, mom. I just started here, so getting the time off will be a little hard to do right away. But I will ask my supervisor, and see? I want to see everyone too.” Your voice wavers a little as the muscles in your face start to hurt from your smile.

“Your grandmother is asking about you, you know. I had to come up with some excuse about why you’re so far away, and single no less.”

“I’m working on it. I’ll give her a call soon.” Tears prick in the corners of your eyes.

“Well, I’m sure you are, honey. Oh, your little sister is calling, I need to go. Please call us more!” And just like that, the line goes silent as she hangs up.

“I’ll call tomorrow, I guess.” You whisper down at the blank screen. Setting your phone down, you press the heels of your palms into your eyes to get rid of the wetness that threatens to overflow. You practically feel your heart beating right out of your chest as your mom’s words float around your head.

“I see where it comes from now.” The janitor’s deep voice comes from the right of you. When you pull your hands away to look at him, he’s holding out a steaming mug to you. Hesitantly, you take it. The color of the liquid is lighter in color and smells slightly floral. A mile’s difference from the last thing he shared with you.

“Where what comes from?” You mutter before bringing the cup to your lips. It’s hot but not unbearably so. The taste is gentle and has a touch of sweetness to it. It’s pleasant, and not something you were expecting.

“Your people-pleasing tendencies.” He leans against the half wall next to him as he eyes you.

“Please do enlighten me, as I’m not sure what you’re getting at.” You reply back in a monotone voice. You were tired in more ways than one. Slaving away at this project that you were only 80% done with. Staying late, lack of sleep, and now your mother calling. You were tired and you can’t mask anymore.

“Let me guess.” He raises his hand and taps a finger against his chin in thought. “Middle child. Your parents always apologized for what you lacked. Always felt like you had to put in extra effort to be seen and walking on eggshells so that when you are seen, no one pulls away. You’re starving for real, positive attention.” Again, none of his words come out malicious but they really sting. This man hardly knows you and yet he’s spreading your entire childhood out like it was nothing.

You’re tired.

“Yeah. Exactly that. And it’s infuriating. Not to drag on my sisters because they’re doing their best and they have the same parents I have but it’s like…” You take another sip of the honey liquid before continuing, feeling the heat of not only the tea but also anger burning in your chest. Your eyes drift back to the front window.

“I can’t stop myself from doing above and beyond on the off chance I might be liked and appreciated. I’m putting in all this hard work and still it doesn’t matter. I’m just so tired.”

The sun is all but gone and is replaced by the city lights that illuminate the indigo sky above. The janitor stays quiet through all of this as he takes in your words. You’ve never told anyone any of this before, and part of you feels liberated. The other part feels guilty for putting something so heavy on someone who probably doesn’t even care.

“So, what if it doesn’t matter? Why are you putting so many expectations on yourself? You’re just one person.” He stands up from the wall and walks around it so that he’s face to face with you. His arms are folded across his chest again as he eyes you warily before continuing.

“I spend everyday cleaning after you shits and no one sees that. And yet, what I do matters because otherwise this place would be a shithole. You do not have to bend over backwards so people can see your accomplishments, they still exist whether they see it or not. But, say they approve of your help, then what?”

“What do-” Your fingers grip tight on the handle of your mug.

“They say thank you for doing what they asked you to do, then what? Do you keep up with their demands?”

“If I have to.”

“And what do you gain from that outside of exhaustion?”

You want to lie so bad. You want to say that you get a lot of enjoyment from making others happy. That you gain happiness for making others smile because you did what they ask of you. But you realize that putting yourself out there for the sake of others is wearing you down. And you aren’t actually happy.

“I don’t.” Your voice cracks and when you blink next, your sight is blurry.

“That’s what I’m saying. You bend and you bend for these short bursts of attention but you don’t need it. The only thing that should matter to you is your wellbeing. The rest comes after.” His voice retains the same dryness as it had before, but there’s an unmistaken lilt of tenderness.

You look away from his gaze and wipe the corners of your eyes with the back of your hand as you take a shaky breath.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but why do you care so much about me?” You offer him a small smile to hopefully deter any ill will that statement could bring up.

“Tch, don’t get me wrong, you’re still annoying. But, I can’t stand watching people tear themselves down for the sake of others. You’re here to live for yourself, not for them.” His steely eyes roll to the ceiling before landing back on you.

“Right. Well. I’ll keep that in mind.” You smile at him, a genuine one that squeezes your eyes closed. “Thank you for taking the time to talk to me, even if your words are a little rough.” He huffs at that then nods curtly, tapping his foot on the ground.

“On that note, I need to-“

“Will you stay with me?” Your words come out faster than you can stop yourself. A sudden burst of warmth blooms into your face. “I-I mean, if you want. I just have this pizza left and-“

“Do you want me to stay?” He stares hard at you as he reads your reaction. You have a feeling he’s testing you.

Do you want that?

Yes, you do.

“Please stay?”

He considers you for a moment before relaxing, his arms falling to his sides.

“Okay.”

Once again, you find yourself on the floor with the janitor, knees tucked into your chest as you’re lost in thought. He sits a few feet away, slowly chewing on a just heated up piece of pizza while he stares out into the night. Your eyes never leave his face, watching the way his long eyelashes tickle his cheekbones and the way his hair falls in his face. You notice the dark circles that bruise the underside of his eyes.

“Do you ever take time off?” You ask softly.

“I never needed to.”

“You look really tired.”

“That’s just my face.” You laugh at that and he gives you a side eye. He wasn’t expecting that from you.

“Where would you go if you ever took time off?” You ask despite the fact he might ignore you as he didn’t seem the type to indulge such stupid questions, but he surprises you.

“Home.” He says without skipping a beat.

“Home? Really? Are you not home that often that you miss it more or something?”

“It’s quiet and all of my things are there. Where else would I go?” He stares at you with a perturbed expression. His dry voice adds to his comment and you find it very endearing. You think you see his lip twitch, but it might have been your imagination.

“What about you?”

Leaning back on your hands, you stretch your legs out with a soft groan and stare out the window. By this time, it’s well into 9pm and you still have work to do. But with the janitor staring at you, you find yourself pushing the thought of work away for now.

“Don’t laugh. But I really want to experience a day in that park off of Centennial. I heard it’s really nice in the afternoon because of the trees and little river that cuts through it. I would love to just sit out on a blanket and draw for a bit.” You say wistfully. You can already feel the heat of the sun against your skin.

“You’re an artist?”

“Yeah, struggling and starving as most are. But I draw when I can.”

He hums softly. “That sounds like a good day.” He says, wiping his hands on the towel that was tied to his utility belt around his waist.

You beam over to him at that. You again think to yourself of why people don’t like him. He was blunt and a little tactless, but he was caring and empathetic. Something you wouldn’t see from the outside. You liked him for just being himself with you.

Realization dawns on you at what his words meant earlier. Just being you was enough. You matter.

“Thank you.” You say simply, a toothy grin pointed his way.

A month passes and you find yourself steadily settling more into your job. You haven’t seen the janitor much since that one night. When you got home after that conversation, you made a promise you would only do things that you wanted to do for the sake of yourself and not others. The next time your coworker came to you for help, you were able to put your foot down and tell them no. Your voice and hands shook the whole time, but since then you haven’t been bothered. Unfortunately, you helped your supervisor when asked but you are proud of the progress that you made with your boundaries.

And now, here you are on a blanket in Centennial Park on a Thursday, lying on your stomach with your sketchbook propped open in front as you pop grapes into your mouth. There’s dark charcoal smudged along the side of your hands but you can’t find yourself caring as you finish a hooded eye with a flourish. It’s a nice day with a light breeze that helps keep you cool and soft music flows through your ears from your earphones, quiet enough so that you can be aware of your surroundings.

You’ve been at the park for so long that you’re almost done with your drawing and you’re thinking you should have brought a book to read when something kicks your foot. It makes you jump and your head twists behind you to see who or what it was. You assume it’s a child that kicked their ball too far as that happened earlier, but instead you scrunch your eyes to make sense of the figure in front of you.

Your eyes trail up to find it's a man dressed in dark jeans and a t-shirt, with a pair of oversized headphones circling his neck and sunglasses covering his eyes. The shades are dark but you can only assume he’s staring down at you. In his hands are two hot to-go cups.

“Can I help you?” You ask up to the mystery man, not hiding the annoyance in your tone.

“So she does take a day off. It’s nice to see you away from the computer screen.” The voice is familiar and you find yourself scrambling up to your feet, staring at him hard. He’s the same height as you and you notice his lips are all too familiar. They’re the same ones belonging to the drawing you just finished.

“You’re the janitor! What are you doing here?” Your annoyance quickly changes into surprise.

“Took the day off and I’m meeting a friend.” He raises one of the cups which you assume must be his friend’s. “And you can just call me Levi, by the way.” He grumbles the last bit. You only now realize you never asked for his name in any of the interactions you’ve had with him. Your face flares in embarrassment.

“I- yeah. I’m sorry, that’s so rude of me to have never asked.” You tell him your name as well but he just nods.

“I know who you are, and it’s fine.” He shrugs, tone dry as ever.

“You know my name? But how?” You don’t remember telling him your name. Nor has he ever been around to hear it be said. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“You have a plaque on your desk.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s fair.” You run a hand through your hair as you laugh at that. You don’t notice the way his eyes flicker from your sweet face to the sketch behind you on the ground. He huffs softly at that.

“Well, I can’t keep them waiting so. I guess I’ll see you when I see you.” He murmurs before turning on his heel in the opposite direction.

“Wait, Levi!” You yell, taking a few steps towards him. His head tilts back in your direction so that you see his blue-gray eyes side-eying you from behind his sunglasses.

“What?”

“Would you like to get some tea with me sometime?” You ask quickly. Your voice wavers slightly with anxiety as you shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

“Are you sure you don’t have other people’s work to complete first?” You laugh at that.

“No. I don’t think that will be a problem.” The sides of his mouth twitches.

“Then sure. Only if you bring your mom’s cookies again.” He raises his cup at you before turning his back to you and walking down the hill.

You sit back down with a grin, staring down at your finished sketch of Levi leaning against the doorframe of the break room.

Doing things for yourself has never felt so good.

I'm adding my taglist to this bc I'm actually quite proud of this one?

-> taglist: @averysmolbear @humanitys-strongest-bamf @youre-ackermine @notgoodforlife @roseofdarknessblog @missamity @levis-squishy-cheeks @icansmellsouls @dkbktk420 @elnyrae @romantichomicide95 @sckerman @secretmoneybearvoid @apolloshaiku @sujiroses @jadam724 @kamyru @highgoon69 @missyasma @nube55 @svftackerman

The link to my taglist is in my pinned post on my blog!!

#sky's summer event #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #x reader #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #modern au #asks #answered #cw parental trauma #janitor!levi ackerman #janitor!levi #hurt/comfort #fluff #eri.moots

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