#i needed to vent these thoughts somewhere okay

[bird-in-the-space]

Echoes of the Unknown

Optimus offers some assuring words and later you find a way to be useful to the team.

Warnings: reader having body dysmorphia, some comfort, and Ratchet being his grumpy self.

Chapter 11

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

The day went much faster after getting to know the kids and the bots. You learned their names properly and they showed you around their base. When the night came, you were shown to your new room. Emily decided to stay the night to Ratchet's displeasure. He was not very happy to hear that since Emily was eighteen and had already graduated high school, she was no longer required to follow the curfew rule. Considering how he spoke about humans and Earth, you already assumed he was not the biggest human fan. 

It took a moment to get comfortable on your new metallic bed, or berth as they called it. You were glad you had a quilt packed for Emily, so she didn’t get cold. It was often cold when you went on night walks together, so that’s why you had it. However, you did not understand how she was comfortable sleeping on a hard metallic surface beside you. 

But, you were comforted by her presence, so you found sleep easily. 

The night went peacefully, but you found yourself awake sometime after. 

A groan left you as you woke up. You rubbed your eyes and glanced at Emily, who was sleeping soundly beside you, wrapped in the quilt. You were first worried that you would accidentally crush her while turning, but luckily, you were still enough of a sleeper. You then stared at the ceiling. You couldn't tell what the time was as there was no clock near you, but taken from the silence and the dim lighting of the room, you suspected it was somewhere early in the morning. 

You stayed still, staring into nothing. You tried to close your eyes and use breathing to make yourself fall asleep, but it no longer came easily like before, most likely because you were no longer suffering from energon deficiency or clogged pipes. 

After your fifth exhale of air, you decided to take a walk. You carefully moved around Emily without waking her and then left your room. 

You arrived at the main room or hangar, you weren’t sure what it was called. It was empty to your relief. The green main computer thing was active and doing something. Some noises echoed above the ceiling, most likely the vents, giving the base a quiet ambiance. 

You hoped the bots did not find your wandering suspicious. You did inhabit the body of one of their enemies. 

You stretched your head and limbs, trying to get used to the new lightness now that they no longer weighed like a bag of rocks. You then took a deep breath. With your hand against your chest, you slowly breathed out. You do not know why, but you still tried to feel your lungs even though they were no longer there. It helped you calm your nerves, but then you could not help but contemplate your lack of lungs. Maybe it was some kind of phantom muscle memory, something you could not forget easily because it was something you had all your life. 

People with lung problems would have likely celebrated, but you honestly missed the feeling of air going through you. It was not something you noticed before, but after being without them for so long, you constantly thought about having them again. Maybe as a some kind of reminder that you were still a human? 

“(Name)?” 

You turned around to see Optimus walk out of the hallway. 

“Is everything alright? Why are you awake this early?” he asked. 

“Ugh… No. Everything is alright, sir. I just woke up and couldn’t sleep anymore,” You explained, rather awkwardly. 

“Sorry… Should I not be here at this time of the hour?” you asked worriedly. 

“There’s no need to feel nervous. And no, we do not have a rule that you can’t be here at this time of the day,” Optimus explained. 

“Oh, okay. That’s good to hear,” you sighed in relief. 

“Is there something on your mind that makes it challenging for you to rest?” he asked. 

“A lot of things are on my mind. I… still find it a bit challenging to accept all of this. The existence of you, and that there’s a war going on. I know it’s been a while since I became this, but I still find it a bit difficult to get used to this body,” you looked down on your hands. 

“Is there something wrong with it? Should I call Ratchet?” Optimus asked. 

“No. I feel fine. He already helped a lot by healing me from my energon problem and adjusting my arms and legs to be lighter. He’s been a great help. It’s more like… my mind that is still trying to adjust, but it constantly finds faults in this body,” you explain. 

“Could you explain more?” Optimus asked. 

“It’s like… “ You tried to think how to explain it. “Like my fingers… I used to have five of them when I was still a human, but now I only have three. I’ve managed to get used to them and they’re no longer difficult to use even though I have to be careful and gentle when handling things that are now ten times smaller than me,” you explained, looking at your fingers. 

“Or sometimes I breathe and try to feel my lungs, only to realize I no longer have them,” you said. “Lungs are one of the most important organs a human needs to survive,” you added, not sure if he knew much about human anatomy. 

“And sometimes I even look down and try to see I have toes again, but I only see these pointy feet that could accidentally squash something if I’m not careful,” you said, looking down at your feet. 

“It’s like my mind is constantly telling me those things are missing. I guess it might be my former muscle memory or something, a muscle memory is like a … it’s like a code that allows you to do certain things with your body, and once you learn it, that code is there forever. Like… riding a bicycle, after you learn how to do it, you can still ride a bicycle even though you have not ridden it for a decade because your body remembers how to do it. Now, that I have become a robot, those muscle memories are gone because this is a completely different body. I guess my mind is still trying to find anything familiar to a human body, but it can’t because this body is everything a human is not,” you explained. 

“It’s been two months, but I am still reminded of my human self and can’t do anything about it because there’s no way for me to turn back,” you said, crossing your arms. 

“I understand. It must have been difficult trying to adapt to a body that no longer has the functions you were used to as a human. If we had the technology and tools like we used to on Cybertron, then we would have been able to return some of those functions, to make your new body at least somewhat familiar to you. However, since you had managed to survive this long in a strange body, it proves you have the strength to adapt while most would have likely crumbled under those pressures,” Optimus said, and some of those words brought comfort. 

“Well, I did have Emily for help. I doubt I would have survived long on my own,” you said. 

“And I assume Emily is someone you trust deeply,” Optimus stated. 

“She has been my best friend since I was fourteen. She just kinda walked into my life and pulled me along wherever she went. “ You smiled. 

“At first I thought it was going to be an encounter that would only happen once, but it was not. We continued being friends even after the summer camp, and then she just became something I can’t live without,” you explained. 

“I was so scared of showing myself when I became this, but she stayed and decided to help me,” you said, feeling warmth in your chest. 

“That is a rare bond that should be treasured dearly,” Optimus smiled softly. 

“Oh, I already pledged myself to be there whenever she needs me and protect her if her life was ever in danger,” you uttered, not feeling shy about your words toward her. 

“This new life might seem strange to you and scary after knowing we are at war with our kind. The circumstances could have been much better. But know that you are not obligated to join and fight it for us,” Optimus said. 

Your eyes widened and your shoulders became stiff. “Oh… did you hear about my talk with Emily?” you asked, slightly embarrassed. 

“Do not feel disheartened as you are right that this is not your war, or fear that we will not help you even if you do not wish to join our cause. You are free to stay or leave on your own accord. And even if there is something you wish to do, then that shall be your decision alone,” he said assuringly. You tried to see anything fault in his voice or expression, but there was nothing that roused your suspicions, he was being genuine. 

“Okay…” you nodded, feeling somewhat relieved. “Thank you, sir,”

“You may call me Optimus. There is no need for such formalities here,” he said. 

“Oh? Okay. Thank you, Optimus,” you said and he nodded. 

You then thought about Cybertron. Your interest piqued by its existence and what life was like there before the war. 

“Can I ask something?” you asked. 

“Of course. Go ahead,” Optimus nodded. 

“What was Cybertron like? Before the war I mean,” you asked. 

“You wish to learn more about it?” Optimus asked. 

“If that’s not a trouble, then yes,” you said with a nod. 

Optimus’s gaze softened and he began talking about his home planet. You listened attentively, learning interesting things about the alien planet. Your child-like curiosity peeked from its hidden shell and you asked questions Optimus seemed more than happy to answer and explain in detail. 

The morning arrived faster with you talking with Optimus. The bots and Emily woke up from their slumbers and came to the main room. 

Emily was curious to find you there. You picked her up and talked about the things you learned from Optimus. She seemed happy and listened with a smile as you told her everything you now knew about Cybertron. 

You stayed at the base as the bots went on patrols or scouting missions. The trio was still at school, so it was just you, Emily, Optimus, and Ratchet. However, you soon started to get bored. You wondered what you could do to compensate the bots for allowing you to stay there. Optimus said that you didn’t have to do anything, but your consciousness soon told you to do something and not be an extra mouth to feed, especially when they were having energon trouble themselves. 

“Hey, Ratchet,” you said. 

“Hmm?” Ratchet looked toward you. 

“Is there something I could do? I’m not much help on patrols and stuff, but I could be an extra hand here,” you asked. 

Emily smiled, most likely happy that you were taking the initiative. 

“Hmm. Well, you could help clean up the base,” Ratchet said. 

“Sure. If you have a cybertronian-sized mop around here,” you said skeptically as you didn’t see one. If it was a regular human-sized mop then there was no way you were going to do cleaning. 

“Nah. That’s too basic,” Emily suddenly chipped in. 

“I see you have a lot of broken stuff. (Name)’s actually very handy and good at fixing things. How about you have her fix something for you?” she suggested, looking at Ratchet. She was right as there were a lot of broken-looking things on his desk. However, you were not certain if you could help in fixing them as they were not human tools. 

“Sure, but does she know much about cybertronian technology?” Ratchet asked. 

“Ugh…” You hesitated to answer. 

“She’s a fast learner. You could teach her,” Emily saved you. 

“Even if I could, I do not currently have the necessary parts to fix them all,” Ratchet replied. 

You frowned. “Can’t you ask Agent Fowler for the parts?” you asked. 

“I could, but Agent Fowler is often busy with whatever Earth stuff he’s doing. I can wait for weeks before he finally brings the parts I ask for,” Ratcher explained.

You tried to think to yourself for a moment. 

“You know, Earth has many trash sites and junkyards around the globe,” Emily stated. 

“Yes, and?” 

“Well… people throw away a lot of stuff these days, some that are in perfectly good shape. There’s a high chance you might find the parts you need from these sites,” You explained. “You would not have to wait another week for Agent Fowler to answer your request,” you added. 

“Go through human trash? No thank you,” Ratchet grumbled.  

“We can go. Just give us a list and we’ll look for these parts,” Emily suggested. 

“I actually know a place where we can find a lot of spare parts,” she said. 

“Woulnd’t be considered stealing if you take items from these sites?” Optimus suddenly asked. 

“They’re called junkyards for a reason. It’s where people throw away things to either be recycled or disposed of. They’re not considered anything of value, so no one would really care if they go missing. What we would be doing is called healthy recycling,” Emily explained.  

“There’s a saying that says another man’s trash is another man’s treasure,” she grinned. 

“It’s not illegal if that’s what you’re worried about,” she added when noticing Optimus’s skeptical look. 

“Hmm. This could prove to be more efficient. Ratchet, perhaps you could let Emily and (Name) look for the parts you need,” he said. 

Ratchet then sighed. “Fine. I’ll make a list. Thought I doubt you will find everything I need,” he said, taking out a datapad and writing something on it. 

“Alright, then let’s get to work. I can show you the coordinates so you can ground bridge us there,” Emily stood up from the couch and approached Optimus as he was at the main computer. You waited for Ratchet, happy to do something useful. 

After Ratchet gave you the list and Emily gave the coordinates, you used the ground bridge to go the the junkyard she mentioned. After jumping out, you and Emily felt slightly woozy as the green vortex closed behind you. 

“Wow. That was not what I imagined. I feel like my stomach made a flip,” Emily said, recovering from her dizziness. 

“Yeah. They did tell us that the first time using it can cause disorientation,” you said then looked around the junkyard. 

“Alright. What are we looking for?” Emily asked as you checked the list. 

“Some panels, screws, fuses, and… I guess parts you could find in cars,” you said hesitantly as you didn’t know much about these parts. 

“Let me see,” Emily said, and you kneeled down to show her the list. 

“Ah, I know those parts. How about I looked for them and you can find those panels?” she suggested. 

“Sounds good to me,” you said. 

“Great. Let’s get to work then,” Emily slapped her hands together and you separated to find the parts Ratchet needed. 

[bueris]

okay maybe I should seriously reconsider my path in life and sell my soul to marketing or journalism instead

[gayemoji]

jesus fucking christ.

[piovascosimo]

my sister is always consulting with psychics of all sorts (tarot, reiki, etc), and it's funny how they never have a message for her, but always for me, and i don't know what to do with it. i didn't ask for it, i don't think she is using them to tell me things that she wants to say, because that is not really her character, but maybe she is projecting? i dunno, it's just an extra emotional load that i don't want. and it's always very specific things, that strangers wouldn't know, but maybe she told them somehow? it's impossible for me to know and that's so frustrating and annoying.

[bunnyboy-juice]

i think a lot more ppl need to get comfortable with the fact that some ppl self describe as ugly not as a way to tear themselves down but as an acknowledgement of the beauty standards that exist and how, even with "expanding" the definition of beauty, we still Do Not fit into that expansion and NO amount of expansion of beauty ideals is going to change that.

[taiyami]

Maybe it was for the best.

[phagodyke]

wugh

[scare-ard--sleigh]

also saying this is so earnest that it makes me wanna vom but i like,,,, miss being in a fandom where people like my ocs as much as i do wwweehhh

[luveline]

hey baby! happy christmas eve <3 i was wondering if we could get more shy!reader x spence, i know the people love bombshell (and i love her too!) but shy reader has such a special place in my heart :)

ty for requesting!! ♡ fem

The universe puts Spencer Reid so close to you and so often as a punishment for something. You thought you were getting a great gig, selected for the BAU younger than most, surrounded by the top agents in the field, top agents willing to forgive your inexperience just as long as you don't impede the flow. 

Well, you're impeding things. Badly. 

“What are you doing?” Emily asks. “You're not listening to a word I'm saying. I need your help on this.”

Her tone is kinder than her unimpressed stare. “Right. Right, sorry, I'm distracted.” 

“You think?” She frowns. “What's with you?” 

Spencer crouches just outside of your eyeline by the door. The police precinct the BAU dominates today is small and underfunded, leaving Spencer to map his geographical profile on the floor. This is fine, but the precinct is in Texas, where the weather is sweltering, and the way to survive is to strip. He wears a simple blue-white button up without a tie, his sleeves bunched above his elbows, and his hair clings to the damp back of his neck. 

“Nothing. Sorry.” 

Emily hums unhappily. You can't blame her for not believing you. 

You throw yourself back into your work, bouncing theories and details off of each other with Spencer's ear skewed your way. It's harder to talk while he's listening. Worse when Morgan arrives with lunch and insists that Spencer sit beside you so he can hog the vent above. 

“Did they have your diet coke?” Spencer asks. 

You gesture to your cup clumsily. Spencer opens the bag on the table to pull out your polystyrene boxes. He knows without asking what food you've ordered and places it neatly in front of you, passing you a plastic knife and fork before he so much as glances at his own meal. He's sickeningly thoughtful. 

“You okay?” he asks. “You're being really quiet today. Quieter than usual.” 

“I'm fine.” 

“Yeah? You sure?” 

You nod with a tight smile. You're worried if he keeps looking at you that you might burst into flames. 

Spencer puts his hand on your arm and squeezes. The warmth of his palm pressed to the flank of your arm, the gentle pressure, the pat before he pulls back. Your brain melts in your skull and the rest of the team arrive just in time to watch. 

“You look like you've seen a ghost,” JJ says, dropping her jacket on the table. Hotch gives you a concerned squint. 

“I'm fine.” 

“She keeps saying she's fine,” Spencer says, hand on your shoulder now, the lightest of touches. 

“But you're not really fine,” Rossi says, sitting across from you with a knowing look. He always looks like he knows everything. "What's wrong, bella?"

“I'm fine, I'm–” Spencer's touch becomes more insistent on yout shoulder, heat rushes to your face and chest, and suddenly you've lost sight of what you're doing, where your hands are, and you've knocked your soda over in a rush of ice. 

Spencer grabs it before it can tip entirely. Emily throws napkins at the mess. Your hands come up to your face suddenly, embarrassed, but the team laugh and hum their sympathies. 

“I got it,” Emily says. 

“Maybe you should try drinking some of that,” Morgan teases. 

“I'm really sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me today.” 

“Well, don't get stressed about it. Just take a minute,” Hotch says. “Is that mine?” 

Spencer closes in, hand flat on your shoulder, inching down to the small of your back. He stops somewhere on your spine, his every touch like a bruise. He can't not know how nerve wracking it is to be near him, but of course he doesn't. He wouldn't put you through this if he did. 

“Your food's gonna get cold,” he says. 

You rub your eyes and promptly put your hands in your lap. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I just had a hot flush, I think.” 

“Loverboy's not getting to you, is he? Just ignore him,” Morgan says. 

“I'd prefer if you didn't ignore me,” Spencer says quietly, charmingly. 

“Reid, eat.” Hotch meets your eyes. In a room of profilers, he's the best. He's the shark. He probably knew how Reid made you feel before you did, and he's the boss, so he redirects his attention. “Y/N, you're alright?” You nod. “Then let's eat and talk about what we know so far.” 

You give up half way through your meal when Spencer's knee rests against yours and you can physically feel your heart at the contiguity. 

“Are you sure you're okay?” he asks you softly. 

His deodorant smells like mint. “I promise, I'm fine. I think it's just too hot.” 

He makes you a fan with a menu from the takeout and fans you with it. It works at first, but his smile prolongs your agony and it eventually prompts an adverse effect. 

Hotch has to send Spencer out to canvas with Rossi to get you to function again. 

[tbaluver]

Can you do the boys with a mentally unwell reader? Like she has depression, ocd, or anxiety that she takes medication for?

S/O Who Faces Mental Illness- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader tags: ( for all ) mentioning of depression/ depressive episodes, ocd rituals, anxiety/ social anxiety a/n: hi anonnie ! ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ sorry this took awhile, this was sitting in my drafts and i would keep coming back to it. i just wanted to make sure this topic is handled with care. i know that everyone has different types of depression, anxiety, and ocd so i wrote the ones that i'm familar with and gone through. i hope this was okay lmk ! ̤̮

⋆���‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚���｡⋆

Xavier:

Xavier has always been such an attentive lover to you and he’s grown increasingly worried as he observed your unhealthy habits. He notices how you spend more time in bed than usual, longer than he would stay in bed. How you seem disinterested in eating, even if it were foods you typically enjoyed. Noticing how these impacts have affected you, he has made the effort to educate himself better on what you’re going through to understand and support you better.

If you were taking any medications, he'll read the entire packet that came with it or look up as much information he can online. He'll try to remember all the side effects that comes with it and makes sure to check up on you whenever you take them.

He notices when your energy plummets so it’s his duty to take care of you. He tries to make everything easy for you. He’ll make sure to tuck both of you in bed, turning off the lights when you both get ready, making sure to have food delivered when you wake up. Xavier encourages you to take a walk outside with him, helping you get some fresh air and encouraging you to step out of bed. He’ll hold your hand the entire time.

Distractions were one of the ways he could get your mind off any anxious thoughts or from any of your OCD rituals. He'll have a list of your favorite things to do and see if it helps. He'll stay with you in bed all day if that's what you need and wouldn't let you isolate yourself. Will also build a fort to cuddle you up in and have you tucked in his arms.

Anytime you two were out and you started to feel drained, then he'll take you back home. You two can stay in and cuddle.

He never pushes you beyond your comfort levels. If there was any situation where you started to feel uncomfortable, then he'll lead the situation and you somewhere else that sets you more at ease.

Zayne:

Zayne is no stranger to the topics of mental illness. He’s gone through extensive studies and many clinical experiences with patients. But with you, it's different. Your struggles aren’t just a clinical case to him, they’re personal. He’s acutely attuned to subtle changes of your mood and actions. He notices the quiet shifts in your expressions, or the way your eyes dull and lose their sparkle. Even though it’s hard to read through his expressions, it truly does hurt him to see you suffer. Your internal pain that you battle inside hurts him more than words can convey.

If you were to go through a depressive episode and you feel like you can’t do everything you need, then Zayne has no problem doing the extra housework or helping you with your physical health. He would reassure you to not feel guilty even though he’s busy with his work or any paperwork's. You have done so much as a loving partner to him and he will always return the favor for you.

He’ll help you shower and dress you up. He'll make sure to brush your hair gently and that you brush your teeth. He’ll even make sure you eat enough and he’ll praise you for taking every bites.

He’s always there for you. Even if he was in the middle of work, he would remind you to never hesitate to reach out whenever you feel isolated or just needed to vent, anything. Spam him, leave voice messages- he’ll read every word and listen to each message and reply with care. No matter how busy he might be, he’ll find a way to call you as soon as he can. He wants to make sure you’re okay and to remind you that you’re never alone, even when he’s away. Your well-being matters so deeply to him that he’s committed to be there for you in every possible way.

He'll keep note of all the side effects you've experienced with your medications, so he's aware of the potential issues that might arise when you take them. Will send you texts reminding you to take your meds at the right time and to make sure you eat before you take them so you don’t get nauseous.

He’s a very attentive and caring partner, he pays close attention to the triggers of your OCD and observes the coping mechanisms you have. He notices your struggle with hand washing compulsions and understands how these rituals can take a toll on you. He’ll try to help you by pointing out that excessive hand washing can actually be harmful, as it washes away the beneficial ones that your body needs.

He'll be very reassuring when you feel the need to constantly check up on things. He won't judge you for it but instead he'll offer to check on it himself and reassure you that everything is okay.

It wouldn’t be new to him to avoid places that were crowded or super noisy. He would know where all the less crowded and quiet places are. At this point, he already had taken the time to understand your triggers and sources of anxiety. He just wanted to be well-informed so he can help you avoid these situations and provide the support and care you need.

If you were to experience an anxiety attack, he remains calm and patient and helps you try to breathe. Whenever you need to vent, he’s always there for you. He’ll let you curl up on his lap while you talk, gently stroking your hair. Although he’s quiet while you talk, you know he listens to every detail and he doesn’t want to interrupt you. After you finish sharing, he’ll offer advice or discuss the situation to help you work through it together.

Rafayel:

He knows that you were going through significant struggles because it often kept you doing certain things with him. There are times when the weight of your depression and anxiety feels so heavy that it drains your motivation, making your favorite hobbies or simply just doing anything seem out of reach. Sometimes the intensity of your OCD leads you to stay up, unable to rest because you repeatedly check things like the light switches, doors, windows, and everything else in the house.

OCD is a topic that Rafayel wouldn’t tease or be playful on with you. He notices the small things when you repeat patterns or prefer certain number sets. He’s very patient and understanding about this topic but anytime you feel as if your ocd ritual was messed up, he is quick to run to your side and reassure you that everything will be okay.

Rafayel has been in a dark place himself so he knows the signs when you’re struggling. Whether you’ve been through this over and over again, he’ll help you through this every single time. If you don't have the energy to take a shower or a bath, then he’ll simply carry you and wash you himself. He’ll join you and use your favorite bath bomb scents and make it a little fun by blowing bubbles at you. A smile would curl up on his lips when he sees you smiling again.

He wouldn’t force you to talk. He’ll do most of the talking and hopefully it takes your mind off anything you were anxious about. When you are ready to talk, he’ll praise you. It’s a big step forward in healing and he would be listening attentively to everything you say.

Rafayel would text you throughout the day and ask how you were feeling. He's always there at your beck and call. If you need anything, he already has it and he's on his way to you.

If you were out in public and you started to feel uneasy, he would lead you somewhere else. Rafayel would always be holding your hand for security and to make sure you were always right by his side. He doesn't mind wherever you both go, as long as he's with you. He makes sure that you two can go to places that aren't crowded or noisy but still enjoyable and fun for the both of you.

He’s very worried whenever you take medications. He knows that they can have some mean and nasty side effects and that’s the last thing he would want you to go through. He’ll always make sure to check up on you a couple hours later to see how you’re holding up.

Sylus:

It does not take him long to notice you were acting off. Nothing can get past this man and he doesn’t want you to feel like you have anything to hide from him. No matter what the issue is, he isn’t leaving your side and you’ll both work on the issue together. He doesn’t want you to go through anything alone.

When you feel empty and you simply want to sink into your bed and lay there motionless because everything in the world was just too much, Sylus will not hesitate to take action. He’ll make sure you're eating nutritious meals by calling his private chefs or he’ll make them himself. He’ll sit right beside you and watch you take enough bites or he’ll spoon feed it to you himself. Sylus would make sure to tell you that you were doing so well even if the bites were big or small. After you are done eating, he’ll make sure that you take all your meds and check up on you if any of the side effects arise.

He’ll be right by your side at any doctor's appointments. He’ll carry you to the bathroom himself or he’ll use his evol to help wash, dry, and dress you up. Sylus would encourage you as well to go on walks with him so your body is still moving and so you can get some fresh air. He does all of this because he loves you and he doesn’t want you to lose any of the progress you made. He knows your capabilities and he knows you will get through this. He’ll be right by your side the entire time.

When he notices that your OCD rituals are becoming overwhelming, he doesn't hesitate to step in to help. He finds engaging activities for the both of you to do so it steers your focus away from the obsessive thoughts. Understanding how OCD can distort your perceptions, he uses distractions as a way to gently pull you out of that obsessive cycle.

Sylus would let you know that he’s accessible. Whenever you need him, feel free to call him any time and he’ll drop anything and come by to help you.

Don't even bother brushing off any of your issues. Anything that bothers you, he's always there to listen and help you. He’s a great listener and he never judges you for any problems you had and the reason behind your behavior. His shoulder is for you to lean on, cry on, laugh on, and hold on, etc. He’s understanding and wants you to be happy again.

When he’s away, he will have food delivered to you. He’ll make sure you eat and that you take your meds right after by calling or texting to remind you. Or he’ll just send Mephisto to you. He’ll caw/squawk repeatedly until you finish your meals.

[clockwayswrites]

Ficleting Together Start:

cw: internalized abelism as issues with therapy and mental help, injury

Jason had an imaginary friend. He hadn't always. He wasn't like most children who had one when they were just learning to understand the world around them. He hadn't even had one on the streets when he was so desperately lonely for anyone to offer him kindness. No, Jason hadn't had one until he had become Robin— until he had become magic.

He didn't actually think his friend was so imaginary.

Bruce and Dick did, though. It was actually the first conversation that they had that didn’t end in shouting in months. Jason had listened to the whole thing through a vent on the other side of Bruce’s study. There were concerns of him regressing. Apparently it was something that could happen to traumatized— and fuck he hated that word, traumatized— children when they finally got somewhere safe.

Dick thought Jason would benefit from therapy. Worse, Bruce agreed. It turned out that went Jason took part in the shouting match it could be so much worse.

“I’m not crazy! I don’t need to see a fucking therapist!” Jason screamed.

He wasn’t helping his case, he knew that. But he wasn’t crazy! They couldn’t lock him up. He wasn’t crazy. It already felt like he was locked up. The study felt suddenly small. The lights too bright. The furniture too big. Bruce and Dick were too big.

“Jay-lad, that’s not what we’re saying,” Bruce tried.

“I’m not talking any pills!”

“No one is talking pills, Jay,” Dick said. He stepped forward, reaching a hand out.

It would be comforting. Jason knew that. Dick’s touch was always comforting.

He gave great hugs.

He wasn’t like—

Jason ran.

Jason bolted out of the room and past Alfred and out the door and into the woods that surrounded Wayne Manor. He ran past trees and shrubs and rocks that all looked the same. He ran until his legs were burning and he couldn’t catch his breath and—

The dirt, damp from the fall rainstorms gave under Jason’s feet. For a moment he was standing on nothing. It felt just like when Bruce had said that he had arranged a therapist for Jason. It felt like his world had fallen out from under him. And then Jason was falling, tumbling down the rock face that up the small hillside that Jason had been running along.

He screamed as something in his leg snapped, the noise was cut short as his head bounced against the rock and snapped his jaw closed. Even when he stopped rolling, the world swam around him. Jason closed his eyes and tried to stop himself from hurling. It was close. Jason lost time counting his breaths through the pain.

And then they were there.

Jason knew it, he always knew it.

It’s why he didn’t think they were imaginary.

He couldn’t help the sob that ripped from his throat as he felt their presence settle against his side. “I’m not crazy. You’re real. I know you are.”

Jason didn’t hear their response. It wasn’t like they spoke. But Jason could feel their response: a rumble of reassurance, a bubble of wry humor that Jason didn’t understand, and an undercurrent of worry.

“I’ll be okay,” Jason said. It had started to get dark. When had it started to get dark? “I’ll be okay.”

A cold sensation pressed against his brow.

He could close his eyes for a little longer.

He’d be okay.

“Jason! Oh god, Jason. Bruce! It’s over here! Please be alive.”

Jason whined as hand touched his neck.

Murmured Romani filled Jason’s ears as his world went black.

---

The voted prompts were Danny/Jason, soulmates/bond, Eldritch. This isn't going where I thought it would, but that's the fun of it! I might just tack all the parts onto this thread an not do an update thread since this shouldn't be too long (famous last words) but we'll see. I have at least two scenes that I know I want to do.

[scnderlands]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ SMALL DRABBLE

authors notes — okay I haven’t been able to stop thinking abt jiyan so i needed to get a post out asap!! I thought this up while in the shower so like…yk, no need to explain anymore

content warnings + tags — MINORS / BLANK BLOGS DNI, gender neutral reader, sfw, honestly just wholesome (?) stuff

jiyan wasn’t exactly a homely person, most of his time was spent on the frontlines or in a base somewhere, and most of the time he didn’t mind that.

lately though, he’d been overhearing a lot of his soldiers talking about home. how they couldn’t wait to make it back to their significant others, to their children, to the rest of their families — how the only thing keeping them going was the idea of going back home; and jiyan couldn’t help but notice the way his chest felt crushed every time he heard it.

he wasn’t sure what it was, whether it was some form of jealousy because they had what he didn’t, or whether it was sadness because they had to leave their families behind to defend against the constant TD outbreaks.

it wasn’t until he met you that he started really feeling not having anyone around him like all his soldiers had. he’d notice how much he longed to have you around once he was alone, how he needed to hear your laugh and the silly stories you told to boost morale. he longed to have you sat next to him even if it were even in silence.

eventually, you became his home, even when he was away from the city. you were the significant other, family, and friend he needed — you were the everything that everyone else had and he didn’t know he needed.

jiyan started coming to your tent often, a lot of the time he went with the idea of talking, of venting some of his frustrations but most of the time he’d just sit beside you silently. of course, you didn’t mind, you knew that sometimes he just needed the quiet company of someone else — an escape from what his daily life was and what the world had become.

“hey, jiyan?” your hand rested on the top of his as he sat on your bed beside you.

he looked over with a blank expression, but you could still see the sadness and tiredness in his eyes.

instead of speaking you just smiled and pulled his head down towards your lap, and he didn’t fight back.

“it’s okay, jiyan…it’s okay.” you stroked the back of his head and let your fingers weave through his hair.

jiyan let out a long sigh, something he felt like he’d been holding in for years, finally not having to wear a strong mask around his soldiers so they couldn’t see he was just as worn out as they were. his hand moved up and gripped at your thigh, and you could feel his entire body relax under your hand. a decade of stress feeling like it was finally able to fall from his shoulders, something he no longer had to bare alone.

nowadays jiyan could subtly smile at the conversations he overheard, he could relate to what they were saying, how they felt. he knew what it was to have something, someone, he wanted to protect more than the world. his chest no longer had that pang of pain, instead his heart felt like it was getting fuller and fuller with each passing day.

finally, jiyan had a home.

and you were it.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Hello! Glad you took some days to rest its always good to take a well deserved break!

This occur after reader saved dog day from those mini critters or in that area near the cell dog day was, you're free to chose!

Dog day reacting to waking up and seeing reader is no longer resting beside/near him like they were dpig a few hours ago and strts to think the worst things had happened, only to then find reader just sat down outside looking at a picture of the smilling critters

Take as much time you need to make this no need to rush!

Nostalgia.

Note || RAAAHH. Humans are cute, you are too you know?

WC || 940

Sypnosis || He thought the worst, yet it seemed to be disproved at the sight of you holding memories.

Nightmarish, garish and all around very bloody. He didn’t want to slow down, yet his body was screaming at him to slow down, but he couldn’t afford to stop. DogDay would die if he did, something was coming straight for him and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to stick around and find that out. 

“Oh gods, you have to be kiddin’ me.” DogDay gasped, hands resting upon his knees as his breath felt strained and strangled all at the same time. He wasn’t prepared, less then ready to be dealing with this. DogDay’s body was on edge, whatever – whoever – was chasing him, getting closer with every second possible on the clock.

The clock ticked, ringing in his ears. 

He was running out of time, he needed to jump and hide somewhere sufficient.

DogDay sighed once more, taking a deep breath and jumping into the masses of desecration and biting down on the iron metallic scent of blood and wafting metal of every vein and vent. He was overwhelmed with adrenaline and dizziness.

A roar resounded throughout the hallway, of which it had startled DogDay. He flinched, then began to run. 

Running far and fast, as fast as he can. DogDay felt tormented, why was that? Why was he running? So much had happened, too many things he cannot remember. Suddenly he felt a shadowed claw wrap around his waist.

Was this it? He really was gonna die after he had succeeded in surviving so long, maybe this was his punishment for surviving, for everything. 

No. No. No. NO!

DogDay jolted from where he laid, eyes adjusting to the location. He looked around to remember where he was, seeing the familiar desolate hallways and the small building he was in. An internal sigh escaped his method of silence, DogDay was okay, he was fine. 

Save for the fact he had completely new legs now after such a long time, that was luckily all thanks to you of course. 

Wait, where are you? 

“Angel?” He spoke out, hoping to get a response. DogDay’s chest tightened, recurring memories that he had lamented coming back to torment him. What happened to you? Did you get hurt? Did CatNap take you?

Oh he sincerely needed to find out, DogDay would be damned if he lost someone again. Especially after the fact that you saved him, he hasn’t done enough in return for that action of genuine kindness and generosity. DogDay hurried around, looking around in every inch and every nook and cranny that he could find, “Sweetheart?” He coughed, wincing as he clutched his side as he still felt the aftereffects of all those wounds he sustained over a long period of time. 

Finally he didn’t have to search anymore, seeing as how you were only outside, sitting against the wall as you clutched a strange picture that he couldn’t make out at his distance.

You turned, feeling his presence. Almost slightly, you flinched, seeing as how DogDay was clutching onto the doorway for support in standing. “DogDay, you're awake! Nice nap I assume?” To that, he shrugged, answering with an ambiguous tune, “Nice.. to put it simply I suppose.” 

Then a strange and sudden awkwardness took over the atmosphere for a few pressing moments, deciding to break it he had spoken up again as he sat down beside you, “What’s that your holding Angel?” You held up the picture in a questioning manner, to which he had motioned yes, he was talking about that picture in particular.

“Dunno if you wanna go down memory lane for this.” You smile, half-heartedly transformed into a smirk. DogDay had groaned audibly, patting your head within a playful gesture. You bit the inside of your cheek, chewing on it for a minute before you finally decided to show him.

“These guys, I missed ‘em..” You recounted with a mournful tune. DogDay’s white pupils slid down, widening as if he was expressing emotion. You held no reaction whatsoever as you handed him the picture.

“Smiling Critters…”

He scoffed lightheartedly, not demeaning in any which way. DogDay was glad in a sense that you found a picture of them, their faces were something he had started to forget. You laid your head on his side, feeling the tiredness weigh down your bones.

“Apparently there is a saying that naps don’t help cause the soul is tired.” He perked up at this, interested at the sudden subject of the quote you brought up. DogDay felt inebriated, spiteful at the harsh memories, but in a sense of rejuvenation he had felt hopeful. “I guess, that puts an explanation to what I feel.” Deliberated senses of gas, metal and blood may be what remain, but there can be hope to search for. 

“What makes you say this?” DogDay wondered, very interested in your inquisitive mind. You shrugged a little, very noticeable but amicable at best. “You ain’t at peace DogDay..”

His white pupils slid over to you, suddenly feeling exposed by this newfound sentiment. “Earlier I thought a noise I heard was a random one, but now I know that it was you. Having a nightmare.” You sighed, eyes closing as you felt guilt for not checking before.

DogDay felt himself smiling a little, a special recognition. “Nightmares are nightmares… I am just glad you aren’t hurt anyway.” You scoffed at him, elbowing into his side. To which he rubbed his side with an audible hey! 

You giggle at him, letting your arms lay to rest, to which his own arms did too. For a moment, reflecting on the past doesn’t hurt too badly.

So as long you two aren’t lost anymore.

[Taglist: @everythingnicen0nnie ] {want to join the Taglist next time I post a writing piece? Let me know!}

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — MIYA OSAMU x FEM READER

On a bad day, Onigiri Miya becomes your new comfort restaurant. Not only is the food good, but the man who takes your orders is always kind. You think the Miya you’ve been venting to on the phone is the same Miya who shows up at your door to deliver all of your orders.

It’s too bad you don’t know there’s two of them.

wc — 2k

tags — fluff, romcom, miscommunication, miserable corporate girl x small business owner who teaches her joy

The email doesn’t even do you the courtesy of being short. They make you read through two whole paragraphs before you get to the point of it all in the final sentence. 

Your termination is effectively immediately. 

You sit back in your chair to allow yourself a moment to take it in. It’s…not terrible, all things considered. 

You get to leave this job that you hate. They’ll pay you severance. You have enough savings to be comfortable for the next few months. 

It might even a blessing.

But it still doesn’t feel good. You worked hard to land this, and now you’ll have to start all over again. Change is always hard, especially when you haven’t asked for it. 

You look at the clock. It’s currently 8:30 in the morning. You’re giving yourself exactly twenty four hours to wallow, and then it’s back to business. 

First things first - a good meal. Food always make everything better, and you really deserve something special today. For a moment, you entertain the idea of calling your friends over to get breakfast somewhere fancy, but then you remember - 

They’re all at work. 

Where you would be, if you hadn’t just been let go. 

That does sting a little, so maybe you’re not as okay as you thought you were. Hurriedly pushing those thoughts to the side in favor of scrolling through your options, a plain blue banner catches your eye. 

Onigiri Miya, it reads. 

Japanese comfort food. Family owned. 

When you click on the link, it takes you to a page that’s as simple as it’s name. It’s just a menu and a series of pictures, but it’s what you need right now. Your head hurts. You don’t have the capacity to deal with anything more. 

You want something straightforward and easy to digest. Onigiri Miya it is, then. 

“‘Miya speakin’. What can I get ya?”��

It’s a pleasantly accented voice. When you rattle off your order, you suddenly find it a little less pleasant after he says, “Er. Ya sure?”

This is some shoddy customer service. 

“I’m placing the order, aren’t I?”

“Those two don’t normally go together,” he says. “I’d suggest number nine and number thirteen instead. Trust me.” 

You don’t trust him, actually. This is probably just an upselling tactic he tries on every customer, but you’re not in the mood to argue. You had thought when you called a family owned restaurant, you’d be speaking to some kindly old grandma who might let you cry and vent into the receiver for just a little while, not whoever this is. 

At least the delivery is quick. 

A series of sharp raps on your door alerts you to the arrival. You pull it open to a man in a baseball cap and a uniform with onigiris on both. Their merch is cute. You’d wear it unironically. 

Underneath the cap, yellow blonde hair peeks out. On his shirt, a name tag reads Miya. 

Instantly, you feel a little worse for thinking poorly of him. Your bad attitude from work is no reason to take it out on this hardworking entrepreneur who’s running a one man show by himself. 

“Here ya go,” he says, thrusting a paper bag at you. “Eat it while it’s hot!” 

And then he’s off, scampering back down the stairs instead of taking the elevator even though you’re several floors up. You suppose there’s a reason he has those thighs. 

That the food is good is an understatement. 

Your former coworker Aiko used to work in food advertising before she pivoted. She loved to talk about how fake the industry was during lunch, both in terms of people and actual product. It’s through her that you know that half of the food in commercials aren’t actually food, but styrofoam and plastic painted to look appetizing. 

Onigiri Miya, in contrast, doesn’t look perfect. Appetizing, certainly, but not like a work of art. It just looks like what it is - a ball of rice with special ingredients for flavor.

So why are you crying as you finish your first onigiri and reach for the next? 

It’s been so long since you had a home cooked meal. You’re trying not to be maudlin, but you can almost taste the love that went into everything you’re eating. Imagining Miya carefully packing each triangular ball of rice by hand with a smile has you reaching for another, then another, until eventually the entire order is gone before you know it. 

Exhausted from crying and eating, you sink into your couch with a satisfied sigh and fall asleep. 

It’s 1:30 P.M. by the time you rise again, feeling a little better. Sleep really was the cure to all evils. Now you have 20 hours left to indulge yourself as much as possible. 

You’re not in the mood to turn off your brain by binge watching a show. You want to do something. You want to use your hands to craft something from scratch. 

Learning how to make onigiri could be a start. A quick run to the grocery store and the first recipe that popped up on Google later, you have a half formed, crumbling mound of rice with pickled radish shoved inside. If you squint, it looks almost like what you got from Onigiri Miya this morning. 

Who are you kidding?

That’s an insult to Miya’s craft. He put so much care into each dish - you can hardly compare your shoddy workmanship to his. There’s only one thing to do. You have to taste the real thing again to see where you went wrong. 

“Miya. What d'ya want to order?” 

“I’d like-“

“Hold up. Didn’t ya call this morning?” 

Flustered, you nearly fumble your phone. You’re breathless as you clutch is tighter and bring it back to your ear. “Yeah,” you admit sheepishly. “Is that bad?” 

“I mean, yeah, a little,” Miya says. “I appreciate the business but ya shouldn’t be eatin’ onigiri for two meals a day. Yer going to make yerself sick.” 

“It’s a special day,” you tell him. “I got laid off.” 

In the resounding silence that follows, you have ample time to berate yourself for sharing that. What is wrong with you? Why would you say that? He’s a stranger that you’ve randomly dumped your misery onto and you’re sure he’s -

“Ouch,” he says. “‘Kay, I’ll make an exception just for today. What’s yer order?” 

Miya shows up at your door promptly. He’s ditched the cap so his yellow hair is on full display. It looks like he’s run his hands through it. It sticks up at odd angles. 

“Here ya go,” he says, almost distractedly as he hands you your bag. “Enjoy.” 

You bring the bag inside and start rummaging through it immediately, excited to try new flavors you hadn’t gotten the first time around. Out comes the four onigiri you had ordered, a cup of miso soup, and…

A little takeout container of sushi with a cat’s face drawn on it. A speech bubble next to its head reads, “You can do it, meow!” 

Laughter echoes around your apartment. To your surprise, the world feels less daunting already. You hadn’t realized how quiet you had been the entire morning. Miya’s the only person you’ve spoken to the entire day, and even that was a quick and whispered thank you. Your throat almost hurts with the force of your giggles after disuse all morning, but it’s a good kind of pain. 

Onigiri Miya, family owned. You can almost feel the warmth of an embrace around you as you bite into your steaming onigiri, still a little too hot. 

All too soon, it becomes a tradition for you to order Onigiri Miya as your comfort meal. It doesn’t even have to be a bad day - you actively try to avoid associating things you like with painful feelings by using them as treats for hard days. Instead, Onigiri Miya is anything from a reward for getting to the second round of interviews or a celebration for successfully starting a new hobby. 

Onigiri has become your favorite food, and the person on the other line who takes your orders and even spares a few minutes to chat with you when it’s not too busy has quickly become someone irreplaceable in your life. 

You think you might need to redownload Tinder if you’re this attached to the man who fulfills your onigiri orders. 

Even though you know it’s strange, you can’t bring yourself to sever your connection. Miya is warm and kind, and you’ve quickly come to think of him as a friend. It’s a culmination of lots of little moments piling up over time. 

When you had forced yourself to go on your first date after a while, determined to get back out there, it had crashed and burned catastrophically. Onigiri Miya had been there to pick you back up. Miya had even recognized the sniffles in your voice that you were fighting and drawn you another little cat. 

The next time you had ordered, before you could even tell him what onigiri you wanted, Miya had asked you what happened last week. Maybe that’s just how family owned businesses are. They actually care about their customers. Enough so to play therapist to the girl that orders from you every week. 

Then there was the time you had gotten your first call back for a job application, and you had called Miya to celebrate. 

Well, not Miya. You didn’t have his personal number, but you had called Onigiri Miya, which is more or less the same thing at the moment. This time, he had been the one to be interrupted as you blurred out your good news. 

You can almost hear the smile in his voice when he says, “What’d I tell ya? I knew ya could do it.” 

There’s no container of sushi with a hand drawn cat this time, but there is a little note written on a napkin. It’s accompanied by an origami star. 

You don’t cry, exactly, but your eyes water up as you read the note. He’s proud of you. The star is to wish you luck on your continued journey. The knowledge that he’s proud - his own words - fuels you as you keep applying and interviewing, never letting rejection stop you. 

He’s just the guy that takes your onigiri order, but at some point, he’s become someone special to you. 

He cares. He spends an extra two minutes on the phone with you to ask about your day even when you can hear the sounds of a busy environment in the background. He remembers your accomplishments and failures. Whether you fall or rise, he’s there with you every step of the way. 

Sometimes, you get a fluttery feeling in your stomach when he laughs at you, calling you silly for whatever mistake you’re relying to him. You miss his voice when you don’t have an occasion to call, and when something happens, your first thought is always to tell him about it. 

Maybe he feels the same way, because the next time he comes to deliver your order, he tells you, “We’ve known each other long enough, ya order every week. I don’t like being called Miya. My name’s Atsumu.” 

Or maybe not, because he never treats you in person the way he does on the phone. There’s no spark of connection, no bright laughter, no willingness to linger, to stay, to listen. 

Perhaps he’s just shy. In that case, you’re willing to take what he’s offered you and make the first move.

The next time you order, you end the call with, “Thanks, Atsumu. I’ll talk to-“ 

There’s an abrupt interruption from the other end immediately. 

“What’d ya call me?” His voice sounds funny. 

“…Atsumu?”

Even when you’re confused, the sound of his belly deep laughter makes you feel all shivery from your toes to your head. It makes your joints feel weak, like they can’t support you, and you ease into the dining chair as you wait patiently for whatever laughing fit that’s gripped him to pass. 

“Atsumu,” he repeats, with another snort of laughter. “Atsumu, really?”

“What?”

“Ya know Onigiri Miya’s a five minute walk from yer place, right?” 

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Come here,” he says, and hangs up. 

When you enter Onigiri Miya, you get instant whiplash. There’s two of them! 

You’re just wondering if you should get your eyes checked when you start seeing the subtle differences. They have different hair colors, and their eyes are just the subtlest shades apart. 

The most discerning difference is the way the one with grey hair is looking at you. 

“There’s the girl of the hour,” Atsumu says. “I’ll leave ya to it.” 

When Atsumu leaves, Miya gestures for you to sit at the bar in front of him. He’s still packing onigiri. 

“I’m a little hurt, ya know. Can’t believe ya mistook me for my twin.” 

“It was an accident!” You protest. “How was I supposed to know?” 

“I’m teasin’ ya,” he says, laughing. “Yer so easy to rile up. Remember this, okay? I’m Osamu. The nicer brother.” 

“I heard that,” Atsumu yells from the back. 

“Atsumu’s just the delivery guy,” he says. There’s a twinkle in his eye. You don’t think it’s that funny, but you like seeing him mirthful. “I’d rather make the food than deal with the people, so he does it.”

“Am I part of the people?” 

He gives you a look. 

“Stop fishing for compliments,” he says, and your cheeks grow warm with delight. “Ya know ya aren’t.” 

“Here,” he says, sliding you a napkin with a series of numbers and a hand drawn picture of a cat. “I’ve been meaning to do this for a while.” 

By the cat’s head, the speech bubble reads, “Miya Osamu’s personal number.” The cat is winking at you. 

“Is this…?” 

He smiles at you. “Stop clogging up the line cause ya miss me-“

“I don’t-“

He ignores you. “I got a business to run, ya know? Just call me next time.”

Then, he leans over the bar. He’s too close. Your cheeks feel warm under his attention as he whispers to you, “I’ll make something just for ya, compliments of the chef.” 

Trying to recover, you swallow to bring moisture to your dry mouth. You’re trying to be playful when you say, “It’s a date, then?”

He looks at you with a hint of a smile. “It is.” 

[signedkoko]

Hello! May I request a romantic scenario with Husk and a gn!reader? The reader is a worker at the hotel and does like Husk, but knows Angel feels the same, so they try to push their feelings aside because Angel is their friend. They confess their feelings for Husk in a letter, intending to keep it hidden, except they accidentally give him the letter instead of the envelope full of money that they owe him for the drinks.

Thank you for taking the time to read this and happy holidays! :)

Husk X Reader [Romantic]

In which you accidentally confess your feelings to your crush, Husk.

One of the ways you heard people could vent their feelings to others was by writing it all in a letter and giving it to them

In practice, one of the hardest parts about telling others your more personal thoughts was doing it face to face, so penning it down and slipping it under the door made that easier

You figured you could do something like that, except rather than hand it over, you'd keep it to yourself

So after confessing your deepest emotions about how you'd fallen for him, you signed the letter off to Husk and tucked it deep into your journal, where it'd likely never see the light of day

While keeping things so childish to yourself rather than confessing may seem silly, you knew it'd hurt your friend who had told you many times of their feelings for Husk

Angel Dust trusted you, and who were you to take someone he had finally come to love away from him?

Though, whenever Angel spoke to you about the future they imagined with Husk, you always found yourself silent, like your mood was suddenly crushed by stacks of lead

With another night wrapped up at the bar to celebrate some recent successes and milestones in the hotel, you'd forgotten to pay your tab and tucked into your room to rest

Not that it was uncommon, Husk knew where to find you if he needed it

Nevertheless, you knew your usual and kept note by placing what you usually owed into an envelope with his name on it, and slipped it into your bag without much thought

Later in the day, when you found yourself heading out the door for an appointment, you quickly swooped to the counter with the payment in mind

" So sorry about last night, I have everything I owe right in here somewhere- "

" Ah whatever, it's already been handled. On the house. "

Husk was shuffling a deck of cards in his hands as he spoke, seeming to avoid eye contact

Nevertheless, you insisted on paying him, and slammed the envelope you'd felt around for on the bar

" Oops! I accidentally left my dues on the bar! I gotta go! "

Rushing out the door, you never turned back despite his protests

It was only later, when you were finishing up at your appointment and picking up a quick refreshment to bring back that you pulled out your wallet, which had the very envelope you made this morning stuck between it

Oh no.

Hurriedly ploughing through your bag, you were terrified to see your journal was empty of any letter

Oh god, no.

The rush back to the hotel was like no other

When you finally shot the doors open, the bar was empty, nothing but a closed sign hanging from one of the bottle racks

Your next stop was Husk's room, which you took a moment to compose yourself before knocking

" There's no lock on the door. Just come in. "

Relaxing on the bed was no other than the winged demon, drinking from a bottle with his eyes closed

On the nightstand, your letter was wide open, pages sprawled on top of the envelope

" Husk? "

When he heard your voice, he shot straight up, wiping his mouth and hiding the bottle behind his wings

" Shit, hey. I didn't expect you to be here so soon. "

The silence was drawn out

" Listen, I really gotta give it to ya, your handwriting is really nice- "

" Just forget any of it okay? It's a stupid joke. "

" I don't think jokes have tear stains embedded in the paper. "

Begrudgingly, you shut the door behind you, exhaling a deep sigh with hands pushing into your forehead

" Oh calm down. Is the idea of datin' me really that bad? So what! We go on a few dates, I tell you I love you back, yada yada. "

He was extremely nonchalant about the topic as he continued on about your new relationship with him

" Wait. You…Want to date me? "

You pointed at yourself, to which he chuckled and rolled his eyes

" I dont give free drinks to people I don't like. "

Author's Note - This was kind of long I am so sorry I got too into it!! I may as well have written a oneshot but also I am lazy so here this is 🖤 Thank you for requesting!

[nightlyrequiem]

hello sweetheart! have you ever thought about writing valeria x fem!reader who is prone to crying? this idea suddenly came to me after spending a lot of time in my day reading and re-reading your valeria x reader fanfics. i don’t know if you still take requests, but if not, consider this a writing idea for the future X3

(btw, i love you and your works so so muchhhhhh! your tumblr is clearly a paradise for valeria garza fangirls 😭💕💕💕)

Sweetheart? Oh my, I'm swooning!

I love it when people say they re-read my fics, makes me feel all warm inside. Yes stranger on the internet! Fuel my ego! Give me that instant dopamine hit! As someone who cries a lot, I needed to write this

I love you too, anonymous asker! Doing my civic duty of providing Valeria content

(Name has nothing to do with the fictional creatures.)

Tags/Warnings: WLW, Emotional Hurt, Comfort (Kind Of.), Valeria is Mean but regrets it, Sensitive reader

Weeping Angel

You're crying again. Valeria had returned home later than usual and when you asked about it, her tone was slightly different. Not as soft as usual. It doesn't take much to make you cry. Saltine tears swiftly well up in your eyes as you fall silent. Valeria feels frustrated. She is someone who rarely cries, who is used to being around stronger people. She still isn't sure how to handle you and your endless fountain of tears.

You turn your head and wipe at your eyes with your sleeve. Valeria sighs and rubs her face, trying to reel in her temper. She has to remind herself that you're more delicate than she is. You aren't trying to manipulate her with crocodile tears, you're just truly, very sensitive. She both hates and loves that about you.

"Look, I told you I have a lot to do." She says, attempting to soften her voice but even she can hear the irritation seeping through her words. Valeria just doesn't understand how a grown adult is unable to regulate their feelings.

"...Okay." You reply passively, voice thick with sadness.

Valeria wishes you were stronger.

"Stop crying." She says sternly. "I hate it when you do that. I didn't even do anything, why are you trying to make me feel bad?" Valeria knows that's not what you're trying to do, and she knows she's only making things worse. You look at her with wide, wet eyes.

"Why are you yelling at me?"

"Why do you take everything so personally? I'm not yelling." she grits out.

Your lips twitch down into a frown. It would be almost comical if she didn't have to deal with you and your dramatic tears.

"God. I can't deal with this." She continues. Venting all her frustrations that have been slowly growing like a malignant tumor. "I don't think you understand how hard it is to deal with you. I can't say anything without offending you." You just stand there and take it. Tears running rivers down your cheeks. "It's like walking on eggshells around you. It's exhausting."

"Don't talk to me like that." You say. frowning at her.

"'Don't talk to me like that'?" Valeria growls, getting up in your face. Out of the corner of her eye she can see your hands shaking. She knows confrontation isn't your strong suit. "You're allowed to whine and bitch but the second I do it I'm the bad guy?"

You struggle to find the words to respond and for the first time, Valeria feels a small tingle of guilt. Not enough to stop though, Valeria has never found it easy to back down. She's just so tired of your tears. Of always having to console you. You can barely function. You spill a drink and cry, if you don't succeed at something right away, you cry. The stray dogs on the street make you cry.

"Just get out of my face, okay? Go be somewhere else because I can't stand you right now." Valeria says dismissively. Turning her back to you.

She hears your hiccupping breathes disappear down the hall. She leans against the counter and puts her head in her hands. She doesn't like fighting with you, and she doesn't like making you cry, but it's practically inevitable with how volatile the both of you are. You always bring down the mood, Valeria can never truly relax around you because she's always expecting something to set you off. Sometimes she feels more like your therapist than your girlfriend.

As hours pass by, her anger cools into quiet sadness. Valeria is less upset by your crying then she is by the fact that she can't ever seem to help. She can't ever find the right words to comfort you. Valeria is frustrated with herself because she doesn't understand. Valeria has never cried over a spilled drink, or a single off-handed joke at her expense, or when she failed at something.

What she does understand, is that she loves you. Valeria sighs and stands from the couch. Heading to the bedroom. she gently opens the door, seeing you curled up in bed. Your side slowly rising and falling with each breath. She sits down next to you. Looking over your tear-stained face. Your eyes are closed, having worn yourself out with your crying. Valeria isn't good at apologies, but she reaches out a hand and pets your hair. Smoothing her fingers over the strands. You're not awake to hear the awkward, murmured apology falling from her lips. You cry over everything, but Valeria doesn't want to be among the reasons. She may not understand you, but she doesn't need to. She just needs to be there for you.