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kingkat12 · 2 months ago

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you're my drug (eric draven x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, piv sex, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, semi-public sex, sexual imagery, foul language, mentions of drugs/tobacco

summary: after you got caught making out with Eric at rehab, everything suddenly spirals into something much deeper

word count: 5,022 PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

a/n: this is part two of draw you! enjoy!!<3

As I stood in the courtyard, kicking some rocks along during my lap around the premises, I couldn't help but wonder when I would see Eric again. It had been a week since we were caught making out in his room, and I had just gotten out of a two-day solitary confinement— it was definitely a harsher punishment than expected. Then again, I should've known; this place was an absolute shithole.

The worst part of the ordeal was having to write down my feelings and get another check from the warden, along with questions about whether or not I was a nymphomaniac. Excuse me?

Had Eric gotten a harsher repercussion than me? Maybe he had been moved to a different rehabilitation center? I didn't want to think about it. Again, I shouldn't be worrying about a stranger I barely knew. It was a little reckless of me to care for someone who had drawn me naked— now that I wasn't in a state of arousal, it dawned on me how creepy that actually was.

But then again... I had been the one to jump him. That was on me. Had I not offered up, I wouldn't feel so attached to him.

... Maybe I was a nymphomaniac? Fuck.

So when I eventually lost track of where I had kicked my stone, I started looking for new ones. And it was during my hunt for entertainment that I eventually spotted a familiar tall figure entering the courtyard.

Eric's cheeks were more hollow than the last time I had seen him, and I couldn't help the guilt that immediately seeped into my system. He seemed much darker than I remembered, the green in his eyes no longer having that playful shimmer I could spot from far away. However, when he spotted me on his way through the courtyard with a guard by his side, something changed in Eric. The flush in his cheeks returned, his eyes widened, and I could see the faint remnants of the smile that had etched itself into my mind for nights on end. But when he met my gaze, he looked away in a flash-- was he afraid we'd be caught staring at each other again?

I couldn't even control the way I immediately jumped into action as the guards left Eric's side, and I made my way to him with a confident stride. "Well, if it isn't Michelangelo?" I said, approaching with a smile. Seeing him in the flesh again made the tips of my fingers tingle, a certain excitement building in my system. "Where have you been? Did they put you in confinement too?"

But the smile I had seen in him earlier wasn't there anymore-- he turned to me, face blank. Eric blinked twice, watching me as though he didn't know why I was talking to him at all, his nose scrunching up.

My pulse quickened as my anxiety rose; what was happening?

"We shouldn't be talking," Eric eventually mumbled, looking away. His green eyes darted towards the guards on duty, wary of their movements. It didn't take long before he started walking away from me, which in turn left me stunned.

I wondered whether I had said something wrong as I watched him join a few guys that were working out, and I had to take a deep breath to ground myself. Everything about this made me feel like a complete and utter idiot-- I turned away from Eric, rubbing my temples as I made my way back inside. This was giving me a bigger headache than the ones I would get after coming down from a high.

This definitely felt similar to that; the crushing feeling. Having Eric dismiss me like that after what we had done felt more painful than usual, now that I couldn't dull down my feelings with anything.

I walked back into my room, slamming the door shut behind me. Everything about this made my whole body ache, and I couldn't understand why I even cared to this degree.

Had I been so delusional as to think Eric felt something for me too?

Later that night, I didn't care to come out for the last meal. Something told me I'd be staring at Eric again and that he'd dismiss me once more, and I didn't know if I could take it. I hadn't missed drugs as much as now-- everything about this situation reminded me of how I ended up here in the first place.

As I lay in my bed, hoping to fall asleep and wake up a new woman, I was dragged out of my sleepy state when I heard a light shuffling sound coming from my door. I sat up, rubbing my eyes before my gaze slowly darted towards the commotion.

There it was. A note?

I went to pick it up, feeling my heart thump hard in my chest in anticipation. The paper was familiar, like rough velvet to my fingers, and the same size as a page from a notebook. The smile that crept up my lips was impossible to suppress-- I turned the paper to see a new drawing of me, made in the same scratchy style as the previous ones I had seen.

It was an image of me laying in a bed, my eyes hidden in the crook of my arm, lips parted as though I was drawing in a big breath. The pink jumper I was pictured in was a lot bigger than mine; I suspected it was supposed to be Eric's. From the waist down, I was wearing nothing but a black pair of underwear, my legs dangling halfway off the bed.

I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling my chest rise as my heart skipped a beat-- it was beautiful. Completely breathtaking. And in the corner to the upper right, there was a scribbled message with boyish writing that was hard to understand;

messy mornings. let's have those someday? xx

My smile only spread, and I let out a shaky breath of relief as I leaned my forehead against my door, pressing the drawing tightly against my chest. The joy that coursed through my veins reminded me of the same euphoric feeling I'd get from doing a certain type of drug-- I wasn't sure whether it was good for me or not to be feeling these things, but I knew I was addicted already.

Was Eric maybe addicted to me as well? Was the incident in the courtyard just something he did in front of the guards, straying away from trouble?

I couldn't be sure. Nonetheless, I had gotten confirmation that he definitely thought about me too, and that was all I needed.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I could swear it was the same as getting high-- seeing Eric, I mean. It was especially exhilarating knowing he was right in front of me, but that I couldn't say a word to him.

We were currently in a typical meeting, a group of people sitting in a circle trying to work through why they had started drinking or using. I hated these gatherings the most; I wasn't the biggest fan of airing out my life to strangers.

But today was different. Eric had joined my group, even though his meeting usually took place later in the evening. I felt the air seep out of my lungs the second I spotted him in the door, watching him with eyes wider than expensive plates of china as he sat down on the chair opposite me in the circle, locking his gaze on me.

And there he sat, in a casual manspread as he twiddled his thumbs, waiting his turn. His dark mullet had grown out a little, the hair on his forehead inching closer to his eyes with each week he was here. It was easy to get lost when I stared at him for too long, hypnotized by his tall build and his green, green eyes darting right back at me. The smirk playing across his lips mirrored mine, both of us feeling the tension thicken between us despite knowing our minds should be elsewhere at this moment.

I had gotten so swept up with Eric that I nearly jumped out of my chair when my name was called. My eyes frantically ripped themselves off of him, finding the guidance counselor with a confused look. What question was I supposed to answer?

The counselor cleared her throat; "How are you planning to change your habits once you get out of rehabilitation?"

Oh. I had no idea. Flustered, I ended up shrugging, avoiding Eric's amused gaze. "I think... I might have to work on my impulses. So I guess I will try to make sure I don't give in to bad habits by..." I realized I was completely lost, and it made my cheeks flush. "By doing, uh... Doing breathing exercises?"

My eyes snapped toward the sound that came from the other end of the room-- I watched as Eric clasped a hand over his mouth, head hanging low to hide his blatant amusement. Was that a snort I heard? I had to actively bite back a smile from forming, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip with a force I had never used before.

The counselor cleared her throat, clearly unhappy with the direction this was heading. "Yes, Eric? Do you have anything to say?"

His green eyes darted up from his lap, and it was obvious that he was biting down on the inside of his cheek. Eric crossed his arms over his chest, nodding to himself as though he was thinking. "Well, if you're asking me the same question, I think I plan to surround myself with people I love. I think that's where it went wrong the last time,"

I held my breath-- I hadn't expected him to say that. And I had most certainly not expected Eric's eyes to find me immediately after, realizing his pupils had widened the second they landed on me.

I didn't try to suppress my smile this time. I let it happen, watching as Eric smiled right back with a shimmer in his eyes.

Something told me I was actually going to get something good out of group therapy.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

... It dawned on me a few days later that I didn't have much time left in rehab. It also happened to dawn on me at the exact moment another drawing slipped under my door, right around the time I was ready to go to bed.

It was probably the fifth one this week, and I had laid them out neatly on my nightstand. Every image was as beautiful as the last one-- two of me in bed, one of me out in the courtyard again, and one of me during a group session falling asleep on Eric's shoulder. It warmed my heart to think that he had thought about that imagery when we had sat opposite each other a few days ago. Actually, everything about this warmed my heart.

However, today's drawing caught me off-guard. Today, it was a nude one-- deja vu. My eyes locked on the image of me in what looked like Eric's room, gripping his hair as his head was dipped between my legs. One hand was clasped over my chest, and the other one was digging its fingers into my thigh, holding me down. Everything about it made my heart stop, letting out a laboured breath at the sight.

As always, there was a small message in the upper right corner;

in an alternative universe, there wouldn't be guards outside and there would be no stopping us. can't wait to taste you xx

My hands gripped the paper, almost to the verge of curling it. It felt as though my body was actively on fire, a need ripping its way through my chest. And it was this exact feeling that had me rushing to put the drawing away before bolting out my door, knowing Eric couldn't have gone too far.

Thankfully, I had been right. I spotted Eric further down the hall, towering over the people passing him. It was impossible not to notice the tattoos poking up from under his pink jumper, and something about it made my heart race even faster-- I so desperately wanted to see everything. Feel him beneath the pads of my fingertips.

And I burned. Burned, burned, burned up. And I kept on burning as I sped down the hallway, hearing the loud clacking of my shoes echo through the space along with the thumping of my heart. "Eric!"

Hearing his name, Eric turned around, eyes wide in surprise. "Hey, you," he murmured, brows knitting together as though he was about to scold me. "Thought you were sleeping?"

I finally caught up to him, quickly scanning our surroundings, realizing we were alone.

"... Are you here to return the drawing?" Eric asked, tilting his head to the side as he scanned the look on my face. A nervous smile spread across his lips, and he brought his hand up to scratch the back of his neck as his eyes flickered around the hallway. "Might've been a little much, sure, but you didn't seem to mind it the last time?--"

His words trailed off as the small hand tugging at his jumper caught his attention. Eric's eyes rounded out, immediately understanding what I was getting at. When he leaned down, I let out a shaky breath before I flung my arms around his neck, capturing his lips in a sweet kiss.

I had hoped it would satiate the burn ravaging my body, but it didn't. As Eric's big arms wrapped around me, pulling me flush against him, the fire only spread. My hands barely had time to go up into his hair, tugging softly at his dark locks, before he pulled away with an airy chuckle. "You'll get us in trouble again,"

That's true-- "Fuck," was the only thing I managed to say.

Humming, Eric glanced down the hall before pulling my hand into his, intertwining our fingers as he led me away. I was glad it was almost time for bed, seeing as there were barely any people out in the hallway and the guards were relaxing outside on their cigarette break. A familiar dulling of my brain seeped into my system as I remembered the smell of their cigarettes gliding into my room from outside-- I missed nicotine. But Eric was better than any cigarettes. Better than anything I had ever taken before. No high could match the one I would get from locking eyes with him, getting a drawing under my door, or the feeling currently coursing through my veins as he led me into a desolate stairwell. "This will do for now," he muttered, giving my hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. "I'll make sure to bring you somewhere nice when we're both out of here."

As my back hit the wall, I couldn't suppress my growing smirk as Eric neared me. The last time we had stood like this, had been right before he left my room after we made out. Seeing how tall he was, casting a shadow as he towered over me, I let out a sigh of joy; I had missed this. I had missed him. There was nothing that could make me happier than being alone with him. "I'm getting out of here soon, actually,"

Eric hummed as he placed his hand against the wall next to my head, his green eyes locking with mine. I wasn't too afraid to show my burning state-- he watched my lips part as I stared up at him, and I watched his jaw clench as he tried to digest the look in my eyes.

Sex. I was giving him those bedroom eyes that always worked on every guy I had ever been with. My eyes got all glassy, my thick lashes hanging low. I was quite sure I would let him fuck me right here if he wanted to-- I was past the point of caring who caught us.

"Soon, you say? How soon?" Eric asked, leaning down to press two separate kisses against the corners of my mouth.

I had to control the way my breath hitched before I answered; "A week and a half,"

Nodding, Eric's fingers brushed against my lips, pressing into the skin as he watched my expression with a heated one of his own. His thumb dipped past my lips, brushing against the tip of my tongue. "I'm out in three,"

I smiled before wrapping my mouth softly around his thumb, watching a breath escape him as his green eyes locked on the sight. Eric leaned down to kiss my cheek, watching as they flushed when he pulled his finger out of my mouth. "Where can I find you when we're out?"

"You seriously think I would leave this place without giving you my address?"

"Okay, good," Eric chuckled, his eyes rounding out with a newfound softness. "Because I think I'll need you out there more than I need you now."

What? I swallowed, biting down on my lower lip. Did he reciprocate the way I was feeling these things? I wondered whether he also felt the pit of fire in his stomach, whether he couldn't breathe whenever I wasn't around, and whether thoughts of me also wreaked havoc through his mind in every waking moment.

Eric's eyes lowered, taking in my stunned silence. "Honestly, I thought this was purely a lust thing, but... I've come to realize it's not just that. The one thing rehab has taught me, is that I need to break my habits, so here I am. Not running,"

I hadn't smiled this brightly in years. "Eric?"

A hum.

"I feel the same way," I reached out for his face, glad he had bent down a little to make it possible. "I'm quite sure I've gone mad, but standing with you here feels better than any drugs I've ever taken. And quite frankly, that drawing... Fuck, that was quite something." A breathy giggle escaped me, watching as Eric met my gaze with a smirk playing across his plush, pink lips. "That shit was hot. You're so fucking talented, do you know that?"

Eric freed his lower lip from his teeth, inching closer to gently nudge his nose against me. "Nope, I definitely don't know that. Completely oblivious. Which is why I need you around to tell me that, once in a while,"

"I'll tell you every day, if you want," I closed my eyes, relishing in the feeling of our closeness.

"Good," Eric whispered against my lips, his hands now grabbing at my waist, pressing himself closer to me. "And I'll eat you out every day. Deal?"

I was quite sure I was going to faint. Remember the drawing, I couldn't wait for our time to come. "Sounds like better therapy than anything they've done for me here,"

"Definitely,"

I smiled, giving his dark hair a tug, pulling Eric against me to connect our lips in a passionate kiss.

How we had gone from staring at each other to this, I had no idea. How it became this enormous feeling burning through my body, I couldn't guess the answer. But the one thing I knew, was that it felt right-- being with Eric like this felt right. Correct. Perfect.

As our kisses grew with hunger, resembling that one evening on Eric's bed, my body began to grow flushed as his hands dipped beneath my pink jumper, traveling up my torso with a fiery need to be close. "Can I take this off?" he asked, pulling away, panting just slightly.

I nodded, unable to wipe the grin off my face as my sweater got discarded somewhere on the floor, licking my lips out of pure habit. Eric was quick to dip his head forward, swiping his own tongue along mine. My back arched off the wall in surprise, the movement against his body earning me a small groan. This was how I realized he was hard-- I had to suppress another hitch of my breath.

"Shit, I want to take it all off," Eric whispered against my lips. "Everything. Feel all of you." He pressed his lips against my chin, moving his way down my throat and to my neck. I could feel the cool air hitting my back as he lifted my shirt off as well-- my nipples hardened at his attention, his hands gripping my breasts through my bra, squeezing them.

I whimpered against his touch, writhing in anticipation. I had no idea what he had planned for me, if we were going to go all the way or not; I could already feel my excitement pool between my legs, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. The arousal had been in my system since the second I saw today's drawing, and I let it out by tugging at his dark hair once more, hoping for him to come back up. "Eric, kiss me-- Wanna feel you too,"

I watched Eric's eyes light up as he pulled away and met mine. And he complied, capturing my lips in a needy kiss, his big hands gripping at my hips and digging into my skin through my trousers. Realizing I was the only one with my shirt off, my hands dipped under his, hoping he'd get the memo as I tugged at the hem of his pink sweater.

Eric's lips barely left mine as he discarded his sweater elsewhere, satisfaction coursing through my veins as our chests pressed up against each other, our hearts beating at the other through our skin. I had desperately wanted to see his tattoos, drink in the sight of the art scattered across his body, but it hit me that we didn't have time-- we didn't know when we'd be caught. I figured I'd leave it to the time we'd be out of rehab, when we'd have time for messy mornings every day, and when we had time to be buried in each other completely.

"I don't know if I can wait three weeks," I breathed in between hungry kisses, my hands running up and down his toned torso.

Eric hummed against my lips; "Me neither,"

And with that, it didn't take long before his slender fingers dipped down into my underwear, making my breath hitch at the realization of what was happening. "Been dreaming about this for weeks," Eric whispered, one of his hands disappearing in my hair to hold me in place, making sure my eyes met his as he rubbed tight circles around my clit. "You're all I ever think about."

My mouth was open against his, small gasps escaping past my lips, bucking into his hand as he sped up his movements around my clit. "I'm so crazy about you," I whimpered, watching the green of his eyes swallow me whole with adoration and lust. My mind still hadn't completely registered that this was happening, especially not under the blue lights of the stairwell. "You're better than drugs, I swear."

Eric chuckled against my lips, watching me moan against him as he patted the pad of his finger against the slick of my core. "Better than drugs, you say?"

"Much better," My words were barely coming out properly, and any continuation of that sentence was stopped the second Eric pressed a finger into me. My breath hitched-- fuck.

He hummed, a sweet smile splayed across his lips; "You're my drug,"

It was almost too much-- I bucked against his hand once more, squirming in his grip as the flame spread through my body. I really couldn't remember the last time I had been this happy or aroused. I let out a breathy moan as he pumped his finger into me, the squelching sound of my wetness drawing forth a blush in my cheeks.

"I'd take my time with you," Eric whispered, capturing my lips in a short kiss before continuing; "But we don't have a lot of time. Forgive me if we make this quick."

I could barely nod, squeezing my eyes shut as I felt his thumb back against my clit, his middle finger curling inside of me. It was obvious that he had done this before.

My mind was already mush by the time Eric slid his finger out of me, turning me around and peppering my shoulder with wet kisses. It didn't take long before he leaned down to tug my pants down to my knees, fingers eager. I wasn't sure how to explain the burning need that was currently clawing at me, but I knew it was all-consuming. Eric had consumed me-- I knew I was his and only his.

So when I felt his big, strong hands grip my hips, pushing me towards him to allow for an easier entrance, I could only moan out in complete and utter satisfaction as I felt his cock sink into me. Eric let out a breathy grunt, now snaking both hands around my body, burying himself to the hilt with the slowest stroke known to man. "Fuck," was all he managed to say, hissing slightly against my shoulder before sucking down on a spot, wanting to leave behind a mark.

I couldn't believe the strange places my mind went to-- why was I contemplating getting that hickey tattooed? I wouldn't need it anyway, if Eric kept his promise and stayed with me after we both got out. There was nothing I wanted more in the whole wide world.

All my concerns flew out the window as Eric gripped my waist for leverage as he continued to thrust into me, leaving me with my mouth open against the wall. My body was aching with pleasure unmatched anything I had ever felt before, and I knew that the difference between this time and all my other escapades was how much I had craved Eric-- and how much I knew he craved me.

My breath hitched as he nipped at my jaw, whispering sweet nothings into my ear. "Wanted this... so, so long..." Eric let out a grunt as his hands went down to my hips again, pulling away from my neck to watch his cock pump into my dripping core. I was quite sure it was glistening with my slick by the sounds of it. "Wanted this-- Wanted you."

"Me too," I cried, resting my hands against the wall, meeting his thrusts. "Every night, all the time..."

"All the time," he echoed. "Forever."

My breath hitched at both his words and the way one of his hands left my hip, ghosting over my stomach. I knew exactly where it was heading, and I had to bite back a rather loud moan as Eric dipped his hand down between my legs. Eric spread his fingers, covering my whole cunt, feeling the sides of his own cock rut into me. It didn't take long before his whole hand was practically covered in my slick, and I was quite sure I heard a drop hit the floor. Everything about it made me shiver.

Like this, I was practically pushed to rut against the palm of his hand, the pressure against my clit making me gasp-- I knew I wouldn't last long like this. Perfect.

By the sounds of it, Eric wouldn't either. He let a breathy moan escape his lips before he let go of my hips, reaching up to grab my chin, tilting it to the side so that he could kiss me. I let out a soft cry against his lips, feeling my walls clamp down around his thick cock. Feeling beyond full, I reached around to grab his dark hair, feeling his locks between my fingers as a familiar tightening in my stomach appeared.

"You're the only one I've ever wanted this badly," Eric murmured against my lips, his thrusts becoming rushed and erratic, clearly holding back his high. "Be mine-- Fuck, be mine?"

If I hadn't been this close to my high, I would've cried. "All yours, Eric, all yours... A-Aah!--" My walls clamped around him as I was driven against the palm of his hand once more, driving me over the edge, coming harder than I probably ever had before.

Eric took this as a green light-- It didn't take long before he let out a grunt against my shoulder, gently biting down as ropes of cum decorated my walls, his thick cock twitching with its release inside of me.

Our pants filled the stairway, and I was quite sure my legs would give out as he pulled out of me with a wet pop, tucking himself back into his trousers. I could only smile, leaning against the wall as I let out a sigh of relief. I was so incredibly glad we managed to do all of this before getting caught-- I was sure I wouldn't have been able to wait until we were both out. The burning in my body subsided, the ache turning into an all-consuming feeling of joy.

I turned to Eric with a soft smile spread across my lips, trying to steady my breathing. He was especially beautiful now-- kiss-swollen lips really suited him.

He returned my smile, leaning forward to capture my lips in a soft, gentle kiss. My hands reached out for him, cupping his face as my thumbs caressed his cheeks. It was such an exhilarating feeling to be adored like this, and I wasn't sure I would ever experience it until now. Meeting Eric felt like seeing a lunar rainbow-- exceptionally rare.

However, Eric's sweet smile suddenly turned back into his usual mischievous smirk. Before I could even say a word, he had dropped down to his knees, leaning forward to wrap his lips around my aching sex, covering my whole mound as he sucked at me.

I could barely breathe as I realized what he was doing-- was he sucking his own cum out of me? This was new. And weirdly pleasurable. I let out a wanton moan, gripping his hair in the exact same way I did in Eric's drawing. I could only whimper as his tongue darted out, drawing a circle around my overstimulated clit-- instinctively, my hips bucked against his mouth. Something about this felt weirdly full-circle. "Eric, wait!-- Shit,"

He hummed, looking up at me with those green eyes I loved so much. "Will you kill me if I draw this?"

I could only sigh-- bliss.

(a/n: PART 1, PART 3 linked here!! enjoy<33)

#the crow 2024 #eric draven x reader #the crow x reader #the crow fanfiction #eric draven fanfiction #the crow #oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skarsgard #eric draven

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urwellnesscoach · 2 years ago

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What Are The Co-Occurring Disorders Linked To Alcoholism?

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Are you aware of the co-occurring disorders associated with alcoholism? In this video, we will explore the different mental health issues that often go hand-in-hand with alcohol abuse and how to identify them. Learn how to recognize the signs of each disorder and the steps you can take to get help for yourself or a loved one. Discover why understanding co-occurring disorders is so important in order to combat this serious health problem.

Youtube Link: https://youtu.be/LiRMdOr3lgY

For more details, read this blog: https://www.luxuryrehab.com/what-are-the-co-occurring-disorders-linked-to-alcoholism/

#Alcoholism #Co-Occurring Disorders #Depression #Anxiety #Obsessive-compulsive disorder #Post-traumatic stress disorder #Insomnia #Best Rehab Centers #Luxury Rehab Center

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athenabehavioralhealth · 2 years ago

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Children’s emotional well-being may be impacted by the parenting techniques used to guide and correct them. Parent child interaction determines the quality of mental well-being that the child is going to have. Also, a kid’s educational achievement is relied upon the quality of parenting as in such cases any educational difficulty or failures are well managed by the parents. The kids with such parents tend to be much more resilient in their life and have more grip upon themselves at that time of uncertainty.

#mental illness #mental health #anxiety disorder treatments #mental health treatment #depression #Rehabilitation Center for Depression in India #depression rehab center #Postpartum Depression #mental abuse #mental disorders #rehabilitation centers #luxury rehabs #rehab centers #rehabilitation center #rehabilitation #Addiction Treatment Center #Addiction Treatment Centers

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a-pute11as · 3 hours ago

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Softie - Alexia Putellas

warnings - none?

words - 1.3k

Game day was your favourite, the build up of emotions, the performance anxiety mixed with the joy you felt every time you stepped onto the pitch. Nothing could ever beat the highs you felt when playing the sport you loved so much. Today was one of those days, well it was meant to be, yet the difference was that a very discoloured and swollen ankle caused by a dodgy tackle during international break meant you’d be missing out. The Barca medical team had decided it would be best to miss out on the upcoming away game, advising you to stay home and focus on rehab for the couple of days that your teammates would be away.

Alexia had always been overprotective, both as your captain and girlfriend, she always had your best interest at heart and wanting her squad at full fitness meant she was quick to agree with the medical advice, even if that meant a couple days of prolonged separation. At first she did try her best to figure out a way you could successfully rehab whilst traveling with your team, but given the amount of walking an away trip often endured and the crutches you were temporarily restricted to, she decided against it.

“Lo siento mi amor, we both know it’s for the best” Alexia hummed, her hand pressed against her cheek as you were saying your goodbyes at the front door of the shared apartment. Your body half limped against the wall as your crutches had been abandoned next to the sofa in your bid to say a proper goodbye to Alexia.

“Can you change your mind? It’s not too late for me to pack some things” You muttered, leaning into her soft hand as her thumb rubbed back and forth along your cheek.

“Cari, you know what my answer is” She whispered, planting a small kiss on your forehead, leaving you to mumble in defeat.

You said your goodbyes and Alexia was soon gone, leaving you alone with the lack of comfort from your favourite person.

The next few days were full of rehab at the training center, consistent check ins from your girlfriend and a couple of facetime calls when she didn’t believe that you were doing your at-home recovery, something that Alexia often had to bribe you into doing.

You were now more stable on your ankle, meaning you could get around without the reliance on your crutches, allowing you the extra freedom of moving as you pleased. Ale was due home in a couple of hours and you knew she’d be tired so you set about the task of tidying your apartment. It didn’t take too long but the slightly limp in your step did somewhat slow you down and drain extra energy.

After finishing you were quick to take a shower and put on a change of clothes, consisting of a pair of Alexia’s Spanish national team shorts and her hoodie. Stumbling back towards the sofa, you planted yourself on it comfortably, waiting for the door to open to embrace the person you’d had been missing.

It didn’t take long for you to adjust yourself into a comfier position whilst the time seemed to drag. You searched for a questionable English reality show, one that Ale would ridicule you for whenever you asked to watch it together, she never got the appeal of British humour yet it made you feel at home. Your phone pinged as you made another adjustment to your leg to seek some kind of peace from the discomfort of baring weight on it had caused.

*amor - get some sleep, the plane has been delayed slightly so i will be late home and i know you’re tired already*

You furrowed your eyebrows at her suggestion of sleep, determined to greet her with wide eyes and a smile as soon as she entered the room.

*you - ale i’m wide awake, i’ll be here when you’re up so you can tell me all about it*

In reality you already knew all about it, you had watched the match with Ellie, who was also kept back from traveling due to recovery, you had been receiving updates from both Patri and Pina about the ‘cute’ things Ale had said in passing conversations about you. As well as a message from Kiera asking if my girlfriend would ever not make up excuses for the time when we snuck away from a team celebration to cuddle. Her usual excuse was to blame it on me, but in reality she was tired after a big win and didn’t want to look too soft to the rest of the team.

*incoming FaceTime call from amor*

“Hola cari” Alexia smiled, as the phone lit up your face.

“Hi babe, everything okay?” You smiled back, stifling a yawn that tried to expose your tiredness to your girlfriend.

“Just thought I’d check in before the flight, make sure you’re as wide awake as you say you are” Her smile shifted into a smirk knowing exactly the type of person you were.

“No confias en mi, amor?” You questioned, tilting your head to the side, teasing her intentions.

“No cariño, confío en ti, pero siempre estás cansada y siempre te quejas." She responded, mocking your head tilt with similar teasing intentions.

“Ale who’s that?” Patri said, peering her head into the screen, a smile appearing on her face as she realised who it was, “It’s lover girl!” She added, using the nickname she had given you when you first let her know about your relationship. She was quick to take the phone from Alexia’s han for herself.

“Patri, give her the phone back” You laughed, knowing she had every intention of causing some kind of trouble.

“No, venga, say hello to everyone” She held the phone up, announcing your presence causing you to wave at your teammates that had now focused their attention on the phone.

“Are you staying up to give your girlfriend a goodnight kiss?” Pina laughed, as she began to blow kisses towards the phone.

“Oye, dámelo” Alexia said, standing as she grabbed the phone from Patri’s hand swiftly, “The flight is boarding now amor, go to sleep”. You mumbled in response before saying your goodbyes and hanging up.

Even though you were determined to stay awake, it didn’t take long for your eyes to grow heavy as the comfort from Alexia’s borrowed clothes took over your senses.

“Mi amor, wake up” Alexia cooed, her hand running through your hair to stir you through your sleep.

Your only response was a few very tired grumbles as your eyes opened to the sight you’d been waiting for. It took a couple of seconds for you to realise what was going on before a sleepy smile overtook your face.

“Ale, you’re home” You smiled, pushing yourself up off the sofa and wrapping your arms around her quickly.

“Si, I thought you weren’t tired huh?” She laughed, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

“It was an accidenttttt” You whined, “I got comfy in your clothes and they smelt like you so it made me tired”.

“Oh nena, vamos a la cama” She suggested, taking hold of my hand and leading me towards our bedroom.

“I’m not even tired amor” You announced, as if there was any use convincing her that you were telling the truth.

Within 5 minutes both you and Alexia were settled in bed, your head resting on her chest as her fingers made their way through your hair slowly. Your hands ran up and down her chest as you both sleepily talked through how you spent your days and the parts you missed each other the most.

“Patri and Pina didn’t stop teasing me about you staying awake for me to get home” Alexia laughed slightly, “They don’t think I’m tough anymore”.

You sleepily laughed in response, “You’re a massive softie, I think they already knew that”.

a/n - not sure how i feel about this one, so v sorry if its a lil shit x

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas fic #alexia x reader #alexia putellas x reader #woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso oneshot #barcelona femeni #barcelona femeni x reader #barca femeni #fcb femení

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the-moon-loves-the-sea · 19 days ago

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As someone about to be 24 in a few months, does it really get better the older you get? Genuinely confused and wondering because I feel like everyday I'm dragging my feet to just catch up to my peers -Sun

I promise, it really does. Our twenties are rough. That’s our very first decade on our own! You’re just getting started. And your peers who seem like they’re miles ahead of you aren’t really on the same path as you — not any more, not like when we were all in school and we had the same things to learn and the same few years to learn them in, and someone else would tell us when we were through. Now it’s all up to you what comes next.

So all of the ones who have lovers now, or their own place, or a bank account or a couple of dogs or a sense of personal style — none of them are on the same paths either. One of them will raise three kids and then years later start again with two more and do everything differently, and the first kids won’t know how to forgive them for it. And the one going on to their second degree will realize ten years later that they really hate the field they studied for. And they’ll decide to drink less or work less and have to live with the quiet when they slow down, and they’ll move in with their lovers and learn they don’t know anything yet about what they want in love or how to get it. Everyone starts over, over and over again. It’s not a race, it’s a rhythm.

But maybe you really are spinning your wheels and you don’t know how to get traction. How’s your depression? I needed meds, not the anti-anxiety meds they recommended me but proper adhd meds that took years to get. I needed my own space too. I needed new ideas. How kind are the people around you? Do they think good things about you? Are they constantly in crises? Does hearing them stop you from hearing yourself? I had to leave my hometown. I had to unlearn a lot. If you can’t leave, can you find one new person? One quiet place to think? One new author, one new song that’s angrier or lovelier that you can dance to at night or sing to yourself through a long day?

Did things get bad when you were still a kid? You might need extra time with the part of your mind that got stuck young and scared. Somatic therapy is really good. Music helps, and green space, and time working with someone who needs your company — kids or animals or older patients. Most schools and hospice programs need helpers. Making things for yourself helps too — trying until you learn what you like to write or eat or plant, not because it’s mature but because it’s yours.

And maybe you’re actually quite good at some things that you haven’t noticed because they feel easy to learn. How’s your photography, your writing, your memorization, your patience with small kids or spreadsheets or cleaning the little corners of a place? Maybe you don’t know; maybe it’ll take time to find out. If you’ve been diagnosed with anything like neurodivergence or chronic pain, the nearest town to you might have a vocational rehab center that’ll work with you to find your strengths and work you can do.

Anyway, I’m proud of you. You’re looking for hope. There is as much that’s good in the world as all the bad, and some of it is near you. I hope you know you belong here and we need you.

#all the love to you #asks #my god we’ve all been 23 and it is not!!! easy!!!!

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vedawellnessrehab · 9 months ago

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Discover insightful perspectives on navigating mental wellness in the digital age. Uncover the role of rehabilitation centers in India, offering holistic solutions for a balanced and resilient mind.

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gratahouse · 6 months ago

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cool-fancier · 11 days ago

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Full Court Heart

Park Chaeyoung(Rosé) x Female reader

Synopsis: When WNBA star battles self-doubt after a brutal injury, her girlfriend, K-pop idol Rosé, surprises her courtside, igniting a love-filled comeback both on and off the court.

Word Count:2.2K

The Barclays Center was alive with the hum of thousands of voices, their collective energy buzzing like static in the air. As you stood in the tunnel, waiting for the team to run out onto the court, you closed your eyes and tried to steady your breathing. It was your first game back after the injury—an injury that had felt like it could end everything you'd worked so hard for. Months of rehab, endless days of doubt, of wondering if you'd ever play the same way again, had led to this moment.

The bright lights, the sound of sneakers on polished hardwood, the unmistakable thrum of anticipation in the stands—it was all familiar, but this time it was different. You weren't just fighting the Lynx today. You were fighting the version of yourself that had been benched for months, who had wondered if you'd lost your edge. This was personal.

But even with the pressure building in your chest, there was something missing. You had been scanning the stands all morning, hoping to spot that one face—Rosie, your girlfriend. Rosé, the voice that had gotten you through the worst nights, her whispered encouragement through the phone when your knee ached, when the thought of getting back on the court seemed impossible. You hadn't seen her in weeks, not since she had flown to Los Angeles to work on her solo album.

It wasn't like she could drop everything to come to New York—she was busy, you both were. But you'd be lying if you said you didn't want her here, even just for a few hours.

"Yo, you good?" Sabrina Ionescu, your teammate and close friend, nudged you with her elbow, snapping you out of your thoughts. You nodded quickly, forcing a small smile.

"Yeah. Just... ready to get back out there."

She eyed you knowingly but didn't push further. "You'll be fine. You've been killing it in practice. Don't overthink it."

You appreciated her words, but there was still a pit of anxiety in your stomach. Not just because of the game, but because of the absence of that one person you wanted most in the stands, cheering for you. Rosie.

— — — — —

The first quarter was brutal. Every time you moved, you could feel the eyes of the crowd on you, the pressure thick in the air. Your knee felt fine, but your instincts were off. You hesitated on passes, overthought your shots, and the Lynx were capitalizing on every mistake. By the time the first quarter ended, you felt like you were drowning in frustration.

You sat on the bench, trying to block out the noise, the voices of the coaches and teammates blurring into background static. You couldn't seem to find your rhythm. The more you tried to settle in, the more out of sync you felt.

Your eyes drifted over the crowd again, scanning faces you didn't recognize, but hoping, irrationally, that maybe... just maybe... Rosie would be there. You knew she wasn't. She had told you she was in L.A. for her album, buried in studio sessions. But you missed her presence, missed the way she could calm you with just a look, a smile.

— — — — —

By halftime, things hadn't gotten any better. The Liberty was down by ten, and you had barely made an impact. You were the star player, the one expected to turn things around, but all you could think about was how much you were letting everyone down. The crowd was roaring, but it felt distant, hollow.

As you headed toward the locker room, Sabrina caught up with you, her eyes glinting with something you couldn't quite place. "Come on, don't look so down. It's your first game back. You're allowed to shake off the rust."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I just... I don't know. I feel off. Like I'm not all here, you know?"

Sabrina smiled knowingly, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes that you barely noticed. "You might be surprised. Just take a breather. Trust us."

Confused, you walked into the locker room, trying to shrug off the weight of the first half. The room was filled with the usual halftime buzz—coaches giving instructions, players catching their breath. But something felt different. There was a strange energy in the air, something you couldn't quite put your finger on.

"Hey," came a soft voice from behind you. The voice you knew better than your own.

You froze, your heart leaping into your throat.

There, standing by the lockers with a wide, almost bashful smile, was Rosie. Rosé, your Rosie. But not just standing there—she was wearing a Liberty jersey, your Liberty jersey. Your last name was emblazoned across her back in bold letters, and beneath it, the number 26, your number, was stitched proudly. The oversized jersey hung loosely on her small frame, but she wore it like it was made for her.

You blinked, still not fully registering that she was actually there, right in front of you. "R-Rosie?" Your voice cracked with disbelief, the breath catching in your throat.

She grinned, stepping toward you, her hand reaching out to touch your arm. "Surprise."

Your body reacted before your brain caught up, your arms pulling her into a tight embrace. The familiar warmth of her body against yours, the soft scent of her perfume—it was all so overwhelming, so perfect. You had been without her for weeks, her voice through a phone screen the only comfort. And now here she was, in New York, in your locker room, wearing your jersey.

You pulled back just enough to look at her, your hands still on her waist, as you whispered, "I thought you were in L.A.? You didn't tell me you were coming."

She shrugged, her smile soft but her eyes sparkling with affection. "I wanted to surprise you. I knew this game was important, your first one back. I couldn't miss it, baby. Not after everything you've been through."

Your heart swelled, the frustration and doubt of the first half melting away in her presence. "You... you have no idea how much I needed this," you admitted quietly, your forehead resting against hers.

Rosie tilted her head slightly, her fingers brushing lightly across your jawline. "I think I do," she whispered, her voice filled with warmth. "You've been through so much, and I'm so proud of you. Just seeing you back out there, doing what you love... it's everything."

You felt tears prick the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too," she said, her thumb brushing your cheek. "But I'm here now. And I'll be out there, watching you kill it in the second half."

You chuckled softly, the weight on your shoulders lifting just a little. "I don't know if I'll be killing it, but I'll do my best."

Rosie gave you a soft, playful push. "You always do your best. And now, you've got a little extra motivation."

You looked down at her jersey, at your name across her back, and smiled. "You look better in my jersey than I do."

She laughed, a bright sound that lit up the dim locker room. "I've been told I make it look good."

Before you could respond, Betnijah Laney and Sabrina walked by, both smirking like they were in on the surprise all along. Betnijah raised an eyebrow. "Guess you got your motivation back, huh?"

Sabrina snickered. "Rosie here planned this all week. Just wait till you see her out there in the stands."

Rosé gave you a quick kiss on the cheek, her eyes sparkling with mischief now too. "I'll be the one yelling the loudest," she said with a wink, before turning and heading out toward the court, her jersey swaying lightly as she disappeared.

You stood there for a moment, still in disbelief, a wide grin spreading across your face. Your mind had been clouded with doubt and frustration, but now it was clear—Rosie had done more than just surprise you. She'd reminded you of why you loved this game, why you fought so hard to come back.

— — — — —

When you stepped back onto the court for the second half, something was different. The weight that had been pressing down on you was gone, replaced by a warmth that seemed to fill every inch of your body. You glanced up at the stands, and there she was—Rosie, standing near the front row, her blonde hair catching the light, her eyes fixed on you. She wore your jersey with pride, her smile wide as she waved, a small gesture that sent a surge of confidence through your veins.

The game resumed, the Lynx pushing hard, but this time you were ready. With every dribble, every pass, every cut, you felt like you were finally back in sync. Your body moved without hesitation, your instincts sharp and sure. You drove to the basket, took the hits, and still managed to land shot after shot.

— — — — —

The minutes ticked down, the scoreboard inching closer to a tie as the game intensified. You were fully locked in now, every movement fueled by a new sense of purpose. The crowd roared as you stole the ball, sprinting down the court in a fast break, adrenaline surging through your veins. With a sharp pass from Sabrina, the ball was in your hands, and you took the shot.

A three-pointer.

The swish of the net seemed to echo through the arena, a moment of perfect clarity. The Liberty fans exploded into cheers, and as you glanced at the stands, you saw Rosie—your Rosie—on her feet, clapping wildly, her face lit up with pride and joy. That image of her, wrapped in your jersey with your name and number across her back, sent a warmth through you that made every painful day of rehab, every night of doubt, feel worth it.

The Lynx tried to push back, but it wasn't enough. The final buzzer sounded, and the scoreboard flashed the victory. The Liberty had won, and you'd been an essential part of that comeback. Your chest heaved with exhaustion, but there was a weightlessness to your steps as you high-fived your teammates, laughter and cheers filling the court.

But your eyes kept drifting to the stands, to Rosie, who was beaming as she watched you.

— — — — —

Back in the locker room, the energy was high, your teammates buzzing with excitement over the hard-fought win. You leaned against the lockers, still catching your breath, your muscles burning with that good kind of fatigue—the kind that came after a win that felt well-earned.

Before long, you felt a familiar presence beside you. You didn't need to look to know it was her.

"Hey, superstar," Rosé's voice was soft, teasing. "Not bad for your first game back."

You turned to face her, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips. "Not bad? I thought I was pretty damn great."

She laughed, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Okay, okay... you were amazing. But I had a feeling you'd show up like that." Her voice dropped lower, her gaze flickering with something more. "I'll admit, though... seeing my name and number out there might have given me a little extra boost."

Rosie smirked and stepped closer, her fingers trailing up your arm, her touch light but electric. "You were incredible, baby. I'm so proud of you." Her voice was a whisper now, her lips just inches from yours, her breath warm against your skin. "And I think you deserve a little reward for all your hard work."

Before you could say anything, she closed the gap between you, her lips pressing against yours in a deep, slow kiss. Everything around you seemed to disappear in that moment—the noise of the locker room, the exhaustion in your limbs—until there was only her. The softness of her lips, the way her body leaned into yours, the taste of her that you'd missed for weeks.

You kissed her back with an intensity you hadn't realized you were holding in, your hands sliding to her waist, pulling her closer, wanting more. She responded with a soft, pleased sigh against your lips, her fingers tangling in the fabric of your jersey as if anchoring herself to you.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes were dark with promise, her voice low and suggestive. "I've got something planned for later," she whispered, her lips brushing your ear. "A little something for you... to celebrate properly."

Heat flushed through your body, her words stirring something deep inside you. You tried to keep your breathing steady, but the way she looked at you—like she had all the time in the world, like she couldn't wait to be alone with you—made it hard to think straight.

Rosie gave you a playful smile, stepping back just enough to leave you wanting more. "But for now..." She trailed her fingers down your arm before walking away toward the door, leaving you standing there, watching her with a mix of anticipation and desire. As she reached the door, she glanced back over her shoulder, her voice carrying just loud enough for you to hear. "Later, baby."

And just like that, she was gone, leaving you with a racing heart and a cliffhanger that you couldn't wait to see play out. You leaned back against the locker, grinning to yourself, the promise of what was to come hanging in the air, thick with tension.

You weren't sure what Rosie had planned, but one thing was clear—tonight was going to be unforgettable.

#blackpink x reader #blackpink #blackpink imagines #blackpink scenarios #blackpink x fem #blackpink x you #blackpink fanfiction #blackpink x fem reader #rosé blackpink #blackpink rosé #rosé x fem #rosé x reader #rosé fluff #park chaeyoungxfem #park chaeyoung #roseanne park

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sarafinamk · 6 months ago

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Fallen Angel (Smiling Critters Space Riders AU Reader Insert) Part 4

Summary: Bobby has been dealing with a lot of guilt ever since you went into rehab. Now that you're finally getting released, she's determined to make it up to you.

Two chapters in one day! Let's go! Check out the other parts here. The Smiling Critters Space Riders AU belongs to @onyxonline. Enjoy!

TW: Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Injury, Trauma, Death mentions, Mentions of assassination attempts, Religious Trauma, Religious Imagery and Symbolism, Religious Cults, Mentions of Drug Addiction, Self harm Attempt, Mention of Suicide Attempt, Mental Health Issues, Brief Anxiety Attack, Slight cursing, LOTS of negative thoughts, Implied Abuse, Conditioning

----------

Bobby woke up and shot herself out of bed before her alarm could finish its first beep. She puts on her uniform, goes through her usual routine, and finishes by the time everyone else wake up. The other riders exchange worried glances amongst each other but they say nothing to Bobby.

Today’s the day the riders pick you up from the treatment center so you can continue to serve your sentence with them. Sure, serving your sentence in the same station where they kept the other prisoners would seem like the obvious choice, if you were any other enemy to the galaxy, that is. But the fact is, you’re not, and Commander Ludwig isn’t sure just how many more break-ins he and the medical staff are able to handle.

Of course, word would get around that the Prototype’s archangel was being confined at HQ’s treatment center. To no one’s surprise, anyone with a vendetta and a craving for bloodshed, would try to find you and your cell. You never got hurt, at least. No extra security measures are enough to dissuade them it seems.

Bobby gets herself situated in the cockpit, glancing back and forth between the starry scenery, the clock on the wall, and the navigation tab open in front of Dogday. She sighs while absent-mindedly bouncing her leg hard enough to turn the couch into a massage chair.

“Are you sure you want to come with us, Bobby?” Dogday’s concerned voice pulls her out of her thoughts. “It’s okay if you want to stay behind while we get (Y/n). There’s no pressure. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

Bobby gives her best reassuring, confident smile.

“Dogday, I appreciate your concern, but I can’t avoid (Y/n) forever. I have to face them eventually. And I really do want to see them.”

There is a brief moment of silence before Dogday sighs, nods, and goes back to piloting the ship. Bobby goes back to glancing out the window, her smile quickly disappearing.

She didn’t lie. She really wanted to visit you. Just once. Everyone else has visited you at least a few times, but Bobby couldn’t even find the courage to visit you after what happened in your old prison cell. None of her teammates held it against her, but she sure as heck did. She's a trained medic for crying out loud! She shouldn't have been acting hysterical the way she was, especially when you needed her the most. She's dealt with blood and injuries before. She's dealt with a few mentally unstable cultists during her time as a Space Rider. She's even helped out people in similar situations like you before.

No!

She has to remember that she may not have been much help during such a critical moment, but help came to you on time. You’re surrounded by trained medics and from what the other riders have told her, you’ve been recovering well in the treatment center. That's what matters!

Part of her, however, still holds onto the fear that if she visited your cell, she would find you all bloody and on the edge of death again. Some nights, she would have nightmares about that.

What if it happens today?

Soon enough, they arrive at the Space Station. Straightening her uniform and taking a deep breath, Bobby follows Dogday into the station. Thankfully, the treatment center was close to the hangars. It made the transporting of the injured easier for everyone.

The pair stop at the entrance. Dogday looks back at Bobby with a reassuring smile, gesturing back to the hangars. Bobby returns the smile, more sincere and determined this time. She shakes her head and stares at the neon sign above the entrance. She is going to see you today and she will not back down.

Not this time nor any time going forward.

Dogday nods in understanding, and the pair make their way inside. They check in and wait which didn't take long. Dogday sees you first, and greets you warmly. Bobby turns to where her captain was looking and there you were.

You walk out the hallway with two riders and a doctor. Bobby frowns upon seeing the handcuffs on you. She hated the idea of you being locked in a cell while needing to be hospitalized. Sure, you’ve done terrible things, and you served a terrible being, but you must’ve had a good reason. Call her crazy but she believes there is some good in you.

The riders hand Bobby your bag and stand at attention while the doctor and Dogday discuss your treatment plan going forward. Bobby tries to pay attention, but finds herself too busy staring at you. In her defense, how can she not? She's seeing you for the first time in six months.

She was ACTUALLY seeing you without any bandages, bruises, cuts, or that awful mask you always wore. For the first time, Bobby is seeing the real you, the one everyone called the Archangel. Her teammates were right about you. Not only do you look healthier, but you just look...

Beautiful.

Like...

REALLY beautiful.

You glance her way, and she smiles and waves (albeit very awkwardly). You nod in her direction and turn your focus back to the conversation between Dogday and the doctor.

Oh god, this is awkward.

After a brief exchange of thank you's and goodbyes from both sides, Bobby and Dogday quickly escort you back to the ship.

----------

You internally breathe a sigh of relief the moment you entered the Space Riders’ ship. You weren’t sure how much longer you could handle all those eyes glancing your way. You were waiting for someone to come out of the shadows some way and finish you off just like those intruders that try to break into your cell.

Now that thought made you tense up again despite it being only you and the eight Space Riders in this ship. You couldn't sense any other energies in the ship, but that didn't ease your racing mind one bit. Who knows what the Space Riders will do to you now that they are not forced to follow social protocols?

You still have those damn power mufflers on you. Sure, that shouldn't stop you from fighting, but not only are you surrounded by four riders who have celestial powers, but you're surrounded by four non-celestial riders who, unfortunately, handle themselves well in combat. Unless you can outsmart all eight of them and break your power mufflers in the process, you don't see yourself winning this fight. It's best to be smart about all this.

"Okay, so, first things first, welcome back, (Y/n). We're happy that you're here with us," the Captain begins while clasping his hands together, making you stand straight at full attention. "It's okay, relax. It's just introductions. Nothing formal."

You're not sure if this is supposed to be a test or not, but you would rather not risk failing it when you just got here. You continue to stand at full attention, waiting for the Captain to continue. The Captain sighs, and clears his throat before continuing

"Anyways, I know there's a lot to do and discuss, and you probably have some questions. Don't worry, we'll get to that in time. But since this is your first day back, I think it would be best to try and get you settled in. I can show you where you'll be staying and-"

"Actually," interrupted Bobby, "I can show (Y/n) where they'll be staying."

"Are you sure?" the Captain asks with hesitation in his voice.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure."

The only response she is met with is silence. You wait for something to happen: an argument, physical discipline, a speech, or a fair sentence. You never saw the Captain incorporate the type of punishments that the Prototype did.

At least in public anyways.

But now that he is no longer in the public eye, you're not sure if you're ready to witness the truth for the first time, but you prepare yourself for it anyways. Instead, to your surprise, the first thing the Captain does is take the handcuffs off you, but not the power mufflers.

"Okay, if you're sure."

Bobby cheerfully thanks the Captain and escorts you to the direction of the prison cells. You reach the entrance leading to the prison cells, but Bobby just... passes it. Did she not pay attention to where she was going? Why is she passing it?

You want to ask, but you force yourself to keep quiet. She could be looking to punish you for making her suffer with your selfishness. That’s why she never visited you during your rehabilitation. Instead, she leads you to the riders’ sleeping quarters and into one sleeping quarter that you know was never occupied. All the furniture arranged was as you remember it from previous battles except the bed is now neatly made.

“Here we are. Your new room. It’s not much, but I think it’ll be a nice change of environment for you after being hospitalized for almost a year.”

Not much? This is a lot more than what you see in the sleeping quarters back home. This is much more than the cells you were in for the last several months. If this isn’t “much” to the heretics, then what does having a lot look like to them?

“Crafty and I made some clothes for you. She noticed you like having your head covered, so we made you a lot of hoodies.”

You silently take in every little detail of the room.

“This is all mine?”

“Yes, it is. We weren’t sure how you wanted your room decorated, but we’ll figure that out over time.” Why would it matter how you wanted to decorate this room? At least the Space Riders are giving you, their prisoner, one in the first place. It’s selfish to ask for more than what you deserve. “Picky is making a special dinner to celebrate your recovery and coming back. I’ll come get you when it’s ready. I’ll leave you alone to get settled.” Bobby’s voice cuts off your thoughts, even when you don’t say anything. She smiles and makes her way to the door.

“Thank you,” you say suddenly. Bobby stops dead, turns to you slowly. Her eyes widen.

“What did you say?”

You clear your throat and straighten yourself up. “Considering the fact I’m your prisoner, this is a very generous accommodation.”

Bobby continues to stare at you, and you're questioning if you said the wrong thing already. Not even one hour into your return and you’re already making mistakes. Maybe she’ll change her mind and decide a cell is a more fitting place, but instead of her screaming, or silence and storming away from you, she smiles. “You're not our prisoner here, (Y/n). You're our guest. We want to help you get better. I’m just happy that you’re here with us.”

With that, you are left alone. You hastily dig into your bag which Bobby must have placed in the on the dresser. Thankfully, your journal and the books given to you by Bubba were still there.

You pull one of the drawers and they were full of very thick long-sleeved shirts with hoods. “Hoodies” as Bobby called them. But… which one are you supposed to wear? Bobby never specified which one was mandatory for you, and you couldn’t just ask. You would get punished for not knowing when it should be obvious. You grip the skin of your forearm tightly.

No.

No, no.

No, no, no.

Fight back the temptation to see red! You can’t risk being sent back again. Just take some deep breaths.

In…

Hold…

Out…

Repeat.

Just like the healers taught you. Soon enough, your grip loosens and thankfully, there was no sign of red.

You look back at the drawer of “hoodies.” Since the Space Riders wear white while off duty, then perhaps the white one would be your safest choice. You sigh, hoping that line of reasoning will hold true during mealtime. You relax more when the warmth and softness cover you. The best part was that hood covered your head. It was no mask, but it was better than having your entire head exposed. You were just relieved you no longer had to rely on those infirmary blankets to keep your body and head covered. At least there were no cameras installed in your accommodation… to your knowledge.

Since you had no orders given until mealtime, you decided to explore more of the room. Maybe if you are good, then living as a prisoner of the heretics won’t be so terrible. Maybe you will be able to survive Hell after all.

----------

Stay tuned for the next part "Burn Bright Until You Burn Out"

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wildemaven · 1 year ago

Text

Sweet Creature: Chapter One

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader (In future chapters)

WC: 4070

Summary: A washed up movie star with a failing career, fresh out of rehab and looking to turn his life around. He moves back to his small hometown to take a break from stardom and help his sister out with his niece— He’s traded the high-life for school runs and crafting. What he doesn’t except is to meet you, his niece’s school teacher who couldn’t care less about his extensive filmography or his dwindling fame.

Warning: 18+ Blog; brief description of drug use, rehabilitation/mentions of rehab stay, getting treatment for drug addiction, absent parents, anxiety, sister giving ultimatum, apologetic Dieter, determined to turn life around, cursing, if I’ve missed anything feel free to let me know.

A/N: Firstly, big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for listening to me drone on about this! And for also being a champ and beta’ing for me too!!

This chapter has some heavy elements to it, and I hope it comes across as a serious tone considering the topic of drug usage. I wanted Dieter to be deliberate in his attempt to better himself. There might be some reference to this characters contents in the future, but this will be the only one containing any actual drugs. There’s a lot of information packed into this chapter to help get the story going. I’ve been so blown away by the responses to this series and I really hope I do it justice! Any questions/comments/or you just want to chat more about this chapter, my ask box is always open!! xx

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist

A few sharp knocks on the bathroom door.

“Hello?? Is someone in there?”

No response.

The slightest twist of the knob. Unlocked. Unoccupied.

Only the opening of the door reveals quite the opposite. Occupied.

“Oh! I’m so so sor— Oh my god! Are you fucking serious right now?! You’re getting high at a 6 year old’s birthday party!”

No response. Just a deadpan look of nothingness from the body propped up next to the toilet.

“I fucking knew it. I knew you would fucking let her down!! God!!! You’re such a fucking deadbeat, washed up douchebag— so fucking ridiculous.”

“W-whyy a-rrre y-youuu yellllling? Shhhhh!” His speech laden with a hint of sarcasm.

“You’re a fucking joke! I can’t believe you would do this to your sister!”

“What are you yelling about in here?? Wren is getting ready to open her presents and wants everyone to watch her. Dieter why are you on the flo— are you fucking high?”

“Ag-ainnn shhhhhhh!” His pointer finger emphatically raised to his lips, the noise too much for his dazed mind.

“You promised me Dieter! You fucking promised me no drugs! I should have known better, I should have fucking known you’d do this— you don’t care about how much this hurts me to see you like this, constantly letting me down. I’m done Dieter, I’m so fucking done trying to help you if you’re not going to help yourself. Fuck! Get the fuck out! Go! Now!! I don’t want you near us, I won’t put Wren through this. Get help or stay away!”

The door slams, Dieter left alone to ruminate over what was said in the small tiled space.

Even in his stupefied state, the words thrown at him were enough to make an immediate impact. The cognitive part of his brain working over time to push through and make a levelheaded thought.

“Deadbeat”

“Washed up”

“Get help or Stay away”

Reaching for his phone, he dials his lifeline who drops everything for him, probably due to her reoccurring paycheck, his assistant whom he’s thankful doesn’t hate him enough to ignore his call out of the blue.

“Heeeey! I n-neeeed y-you to c-ommme g-get meee…”

He knew this was it, he had to get his shit together or suffer the consequences.

He feels different if he’s being honest with himself.

Lighter.

Healthier.

Alive.

365 days clean. He made a commitment to a year long stay at a drug rehabilitation center, followed by a 3 month residency in a sober living facility conveniently tucked away in the Hollywood hills.

Yet, he feels more lost than he was before he started treatment.

He can’t remember what living a normal, healthy life is like— a life not high out of his mind 24/7.

This wasn’t his first time trying to get clean, he’d become a regular of sorts at a few different rehab centers scattered through out the greater Los Angeles area.

Each stay with the same goal and each one a failed attempt at getting control over his life without the drugs.

It was never “hope this is the time it really clicks for him”, it was always a question of “how long will he go this time before he’s kicked out and checking into the next one”— might have even been a headline a time or two.

Many centers refusing to even consider treating him based on his past reputation alone.

His agent’s patience was wearing thin trying to book roles for Dieter, doing his best to convince directors he wasn’t a liability and he could get the job done with zero risk in hiring him— it was far from the truth.

Each day on set became a game of Russian Roulette, no one really knowing which side of Dieter they would be dealing with while shooting. That in itself was a metaphorical high he chased with each role he booked, seeing how long before some one caught on to his slurred words, blood shot eyes and sluggish demeanor.

On numerous occasions Dieter thought he was skillful in his ability to mask his inebriated ego. He was combative with the crew and fellow actors— his temperament calm and mellow one moment, then seething and dripping with rage the next.

He was getting sloppy. The teetering domino of his life had slowly began to tip and once it did finally fall, his entire life crumbling around him.

The traffic is heavier than expected. Dieter wonders if it’s due to others similarly seeking to leave the city in hopes for a break from the dim aura that Los Angeles is. He can feel the weight of the city’s reputation lift from his shoulders with each passing mile as he maneuvers through the stretch of freeway congestion.

A few honking horns bring his attention back to the conversation he’s currently semi engaged in.

“This is a big step Dieter. I’m really proud of how far you’ve come.”

He instantly cringes at the thought of getting back out to sell himself for roles. Facing those who were- and are- tired of his shit.

The downfall of his career began when he was late for dress rehearsal for a role he some how managed to get— this role having potential to get him in the running for award nominations, propelling his career to new heights. But when he was no where to be found at call time, his assistant went on the search for him and it’s where she found him passed out in his trailer. He was too far gone to even pull himself together, prompting the director to fire him on the spot.

The rate of speed at which news travels in Hollywood is the equivalent to a fast moving wildfire— once that first bit of gossip hits the ground, it’s spreading through the industry with a sudden surge of ferocity and growing far beyond what is predictable.

His agent's attempt at damage control was a wasted effort. Directors dumping Dieter’s preproduction roles, actors refusing to work with him and threatening to quit if Dieter stayed on— his list of films beginning to dwindle in a matter of days and by the end of the week, Dieter Bravo was jobless.

“The next few months will go by quickly, and before you know it you’ll be back out here booking jobs and proving everyone wrong.”

Vanessa, Dieter’s assistant and full time babysitter, always seemed to have a way to make him feel at ease. And at this point, the only person he knew who believed he could actually turn his life around.

“I really fucking hope so.” He sighs, this was his attempt at thinking positive.

“Have you talked to her yet?” Her voice cracking through the car speakers as he continues his drive north on the 101.

“Briefly. Told her I’d probably be getting in around 6 or so— BEEP!— Watch out asshole!” Throwing a middle finger at said asshole driver who nearly missed clipping his car.

“She’s proud of you too, ya know. Might not seem like it right now, but she is.”

“Hmm. I’ll just agree to disagree with you on that point. Having a drug addict—“

“Former drug addicted, Dieter.”

“Right— well, having a deadbeat for an older brother doesn’t really leave a lot to be proud of.”

“You’d be surprised. Hey, I got another call coming in. I’ll be in touch with you soon! Call me if you need anything! Again, Dieter, I'm really proud of you!”

“Thanks Nessa! I’ll talk to you soon.”

The call ending abruptly, leaving him to sit alone in his thoughts for the next hour and a half—something he hasn’t really taken the chance to experience since, well, a long while.

The Santa Monica Mountains provide a scenic view as he leaves behind the place he saw as his home for the last 20 years.

His current destination plugged into his stupidly expensive sports car.

Home. Where he grew up.

He can’t even remember the last time he visited. Not due to the years as an actor taking him to all areas of the world. The last time he had been home was just over a year ago and he was high out of his mind, barely remembering the trip as a whole.

His sister had asked if he’d be able to make it to his niece’s birthday. She was turning 6 and had been begging for her uncle to be there to celebrate with— he was easily her most favorite person. The specifics of the getting to his sister’s home and the actual party are pretty blurry for Dieter.

Dieter spent most of the last year trying to produce a coherent flashback of the day that would ultimately be his last time using, the reason for his commitment to getting his life together.

He never expected the lowest point in his life would be being caught in the bathroom of his sister’s home doing a few quick lines on the toilet seat, as his niece was blowing out 6 candles a few feet outside the tiny bathroom surrounded by friends and family.

The moments following are a mixture of hazy clips, fragmented bits of information,

he’s tried to piece together to the best of his ability.

The rush of someone bursting through the bathroom door, the echoes of laughter and music piercing his ears as he’s hunched on the floor against the wall, little specks of a white powdery residue dusting his mustache.

There’s screaming as he does his best to focus his blurry attention on the distorted enraged figure in front of him, yelling something about being washed up— his eye lids heavy and fighting against them to keep them opened.

If he had to recall the exact moment he knew he fucked up, it was seeing the hurt and disappointment on his sister's face— her face wet with tears as she poured out her disappointment and pain over the fact that he was strung-out at her daughter’s birthday party. The weight of his consequences bleeding through him as he vividly recalls his sister telling him to leave and not come back unless he was sober.

The next day he checked himself in, determined to get his life together for good.

He shakes away the subtle tinge of guilt that starts to bubble up in his chest.

Remembering the ‘54321 Method’ he was taught in treatment to help ground himself when his thoughts start to become overwhelming…

5 things you see: the sun slowly making its way to the horizon, cars moving swiftly by his own, Live Oak trees rooted among the mountains, the slightest twinkling of the first few stars, his reflection in the rear view mirror— lighter, healthier, alive.

4 things things to touch: the leather of the steering wheel, his jeans fabric soft and comfortable, the cool metal of his rings adorning his fingers, the weight of his sobriety chip in his pocket a constant reminder of how far he’s come.

3 things you hear: the familiar beat of a popular song streaming through the car speakers, rhythmic tapping of his thumbs in tune with the song, his off-key voice as he sings along to the words he knows.

2 things you smell: his olfactory nerve triggered at the distinct scent of his woody amber cologne, that new car smell that still lingers throughout the car’s interior.

1 thing you taste: a minty tingle on his tongue as he chews his last piece of gum.

His nerves settle, his eyes focused on the road ahead, deciding he’ll right his wrongs when he gets to his stop— his sister’s house.

The trip took longer than he’d originally planned. Weekend traffic to blame for the 2 hour delay in his arrival.

‘Welcome to Ojai’— the stone sign greets him, dim uplighting barely making it readable as he turns on to the familiar street.

The town is all but empty at this time of the night, street lights plus the few restaurants and bars that are open give off enough ambient light to drape the streets in a subtle glow.

He’s instantly taken back to his childhood, so many memories tucked away throughout the picturesque landscape.

Growing up with famous parents wasn’t all that glamorous in Dieter’s eyes.

Dieter’s parents, Dean and Mary Bravo, were both well known in the tv and movie world.

Dean had been known for his roles in James Bond-esque action films through his career, notably his best work among other smaller productions he worked on. Mary was the queen of daytime television with her numerous roles in soap opera’s biggest shows, a socialite getting invited to glamorous events and elite celebrity parties.

Together they were Hollywood’s “It” couple, jet-setting to all parts of the world when schedules allowed for it.

Dieter and his younger sister, while born into this movie star family, were raised far from it. Dean and Mary deciding to buy a home in the mountains outside of the headlines and prying eyes, a place where their kids could live a some what normal life.

Normal was anything but normal. Dean and Mary didn’t let children hold back their lives and desires of more fame. Leaving them with nannies so they could keep up with the demands of working and living their best lives.

Ojai, a small village-like town nestled in the valley of the Topanga Mountains, became a literal playground for Dieter growing up.

Little reminders of his childhood still remain as he ventures further into town. He finds himself slowing the car a bit as he takes it all in, rolling the window down to let the evening air hit his face— it’s crisp as it trickles across his skin.

The private school he attended all through his schooling years sits on top of a hill that over looks the valley. The school’s reputation was highly regarded and offered a plethora of academic courses and electives. Dieter found the art and theater programs to be where he excelled most, painting and acting fueled his passion for the arts, propelling him into pursuing one as a full time career.

He spots Bart’s Books as he drives on, an outdoor bookstore, that had become a daily hangout as a kid. The red wooden shelves still filled with adventures and history to get lost in. He discovered his love for storytelling sitting on the covered patio, nose deep in fictional worlds he dreamed of visiting.

Across the way, a ‘no vacancy’ neon sign flickers on. Capri Hotel, a newly renovated hotel that still looks like it could have come straight from the 1960s with its mid-century design and modern style. He recalls the summer when him and his buddies regularly jumped the fence to swim in the pool, the cool water under the stars was refreshing during the California heat waves. They managed to only get caught once but worked out a barter with the then owners, they clean the pool and in turn can use the pool at their leisure. The hotel seems to be under new ownership now, but it seems to be doing well.

On every corner there’s an art gallery. Some still looking as if no time had passed, others adorn new names and a fresh coat of paint. Several galleries offered summer painting classes, where Dieter found he had more creative freedom than in school to explore all mediums and really honing in on his style. He’s always imagined he’d have his own showing of his paintings, friends and family gathering to see his work— a dream he never lived out.

His car parked and engine killed, he still hasn’t found the courage to get out. He can see a few lights on from the front windows of his sister’s quaint Spanish style home. Trying to not let the vague memories of his last visit deter him from going inside. He sends Vanessa a text, letting her know he’d made it safely and that he’d text her if he needed anything.

Bags in tow, he makes his way to the front door. Nerves and emotions swirling around, reminding himself to breathe, letting go of the fear and expectations he’d had for this reunion.

He opts for knocking, assuming Wren would be sleeping at this hour.

The clicking of locks being turned, twisting of the door knob, the black wooden door swings open to the space that’s haunted him for the last year.

“Hey, Diem. Sorry I’m so—“ He starts to explain his lateness before he’s cut off.

“Dieter! Oh my god! I thought something happened to you! What the fuck?!” Her body launches at him, arms wrapping around him securely. He accepts the impromptu hug, dropping his bags to return the gesture.

“No, no I’m good. Traffic was a nightmare and by the time I thought to call, service was fucked. Sorry for making you worry.”

“You’re here and you’re safe— that’s all that matters.”

This greeting is going far better than he had expected, but he hasn’t made over the threshold, still plenty of time for Diem to drop the hammer on him.

“Come in! Let’s get you all settled in.” She ushers him in, closing the door and adjusting the locks again.

He takes the space in, noting not much has changed from what he can tell in the diffused lighting, but he feels warm and welcoming even for him.

“I got the spare room all cleaned and ready for you. New sheets on the bed and a few extra pillows just in case.” She seems skittish moving about the living room, picking up the few toys laying around the room and placing them back in their designated baskets. “If you want to sit, make yourself comfortable. You want anything to drink? Eat?”

She seems just as nervous as he is and that makes him feel less anxious for some reason.

“I grabbed some food on the way, I’m good.” Setting his bags down, he makes his way to the couch and sits down, deciding to rip the bandage off so to speak.

Diem taking his lead, sits on the opposite end of the couch, legs tucked under her and hands resting on her lap. A lull hangs over them for a few moments, neither really know what to say or do. He notices her fingers fidgeting and decides to break the silence.

“I know we haven’t talked much since the last time I was here,” He sees the brief wince on her face at the mention of it, as if she’d been actively trying to avoid talking about it. “But I want to tell you how sorry I am for—“

“Dieter, you don’t have to.”

“No, actually I do. And I’m going to. Not only because it’s part of my steps in recovery, but because you deserve it— Wren deserves it.”

“She doesn’t know— about the drugs or you going to rehab.” She doesn’t look at him as she says it.

“I won’t mention it to her then.”

“I just told her you were busy and that you’d be coming to spend time with us 'cause you missed her.”

“Why did you agree? After all the shit I’ve done and put you through, why are you letting me stay here?”

That gets her attention, her eyes glossy with unshed tears as she looks at him with nothing but love and forgiveness. “Because you’re my brother and I want you here, despite all the shit you put me through.”

He shifts closer to where she’s sitting, wiping the few tears that had decided to fall. He doesn’t think he deserves her kindness, but is grateful he has this opportunity to do what he’s been wanting to do.

“I’m sorry for the pain and hurt that I caused you. Not only at Wren’s party, but all the other times I’d said I was clean and wasn’t. For putting you both second to my addiction. I’m sorry for not being here when you needed me most. I promise I’m going to do my best to earn your trust and prove to you that I am committed to my sobriety.”

Leaning back, his hand digs into his pocket pulling out his proof, grabbing Diem’s hand and turns it over placing the chip in her palm. She looks at it then back at him, the most genuine smile graces her face before she wraps her arms around his shoulders and pulls him in for a hug.

“I love you Dieter! Thank you for not only doing this for us, but for yourself as well. I’m really proud of you.”

“I love you too Diem.”

Releasing Dieter from the hug, she adjusts herself back to her previous position, now more relaxed with her elbow resting on the back of the couch propping her head up as she looks at Dieter, really taking in how healthy he looks since she’d last seen him.

“Thank you for also letting me stay here. I needed to get out of the city for a bit, clear my head and shit. Should only be a few months or less, until I can get a few things lined up— have a few potential projects I requested scripts for.”

The thought of returning to his old ways terrified him, he had all the tools and support to continue working on himself outside of treatment, but he didn’t want to chance it. He instantly knew exactly where he wanted to spend the next few months re-acclimating back into this new way of living, away from temptation. Knowing their last conversation was anything but great, he'd decided an e-mail felt less grievous and hoped she’d find it in her heart to accept him back in her home again.

“Of course. Stay as long as you need to.”

“And I can help how ever you need me to, figured it would keep me busy doing stuff, help out with Wren.”

“Oh my gosh, please! It’s peak tourist season the next few weeks at the Hotel and I’ve got a handful of events we’re hosting too. School runs would be a big help for me.”

“Hotel?” He’s sure he heard her right but doesn’t remember any mention of a hotel that he can recall.

“Funny story actually-- I bought the Capri last year. Did some renovations and it’s been great really. Keeps me busy most of the time, but I love it.”

Diem was never one for the spotlight, especially with movie star family members, actively avoiding anything to do with Hollywood and its ostentatious air. She always had a knack for making drab things look enticing, so Dieter isn’t surprised one bit by the mention of her being the new owner of the Capri Hotel.

“And now that I’m the owner, you can swim for free— pool cleaning is encouraged too.” He laughs at that.

“Congrats on owning a hotel I guess. I’ll definitely be taking advantage of swimming privileges then.”

“Alright. I’m going to head to bed, got an early morning dropping Wren off before I meet with the planner for our next event.”

“I can take her tomorrow.”

“You sure? You don’t want to settle in a bit first?”

“Nah, it’ll be nice spending some time with her.”

“Okay. Prepare yourself for a wild time then.”

She kisses the top of his head before heading in the direction of her room. Stopping before turning down the hall, she looks back at Dieter who hasn’t moved from the couch, one of his hands rubbing at the opposite shoulder and leaning his head to the side to stretch it out a bit— the longer car rides really doing a number on him.

“Dieter—“

His head turns towards the direction of his name being called.

"Hmm?"

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Yeah, me too.”

#dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo #sweet creature series #Pedro pascal #wildemaven writes

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