#don’t worry I’m okay just a bit anxious and jittery

[dumbluckpup]

Ya boy accidentally doubled up on adhd meds

[strniohoeee]

matt teaches reader how to drive but she has a panic attack and they go back home and he makes her feel better

It’s Okay

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: After begging Matt to teach Y/N how to drive, you face some challenges that cause anxious thoughts and jittery arms. However Matt’s there to save you 🍂

Warnings⚠️: None, this is short asffff and honestly boring and trash. I lowkey feel like giving up cuzzz where my peeps went??😔🙏🏽

Song for imagine: Mary- Alex G

What is fear?

I had sat for three weeks begging Matt to let me drive, pleading with him to just take me around the block. I was trying to wage with him to see if he’d teach me in return for something else.

It wasn’t that he said no, but he was just so busy constantly and he never really had a chance to teach me. On top of that it wasn’t really that important. For Christ sake I was his passenger princess.

I was just full of excitement, after putting off my drivers test for two years. At the ripe age of 21 I had finally put my big girl pants on and took my test. I was more shocked that I passed the first time even though I hit the curb at least two times.

And finally after two weeks of begging Matt we finally had some time where we could take an hour to drive around. Matt shook his head as I jumped around in joy.

“Next think you know you’re going to be my passenger princess” I said to Matt as he slid his sneakers on

“Good because honestly I’m tired of driving around” he says shrugging his shoulders and giggling

“Sooner or later you’ll be kicking your feet up while I cruise down the highway” I said grabbing my purse

“Slow down little lady, you have to learn how to make turns without eating the curbs” he replied jumping up and grabbing his keys

“Hey! Not fair they happened to be in my way” I stated rolling my eyes

“….right” Matt states tilting his head at me

“Oh whatever lets go” I said shaking my head and playfully hitting him

Matt had driven me around the two blocks he wanted me to go around. Pointing out things to me and telling me how to do it.

Nodding my head we switched positions, so I was in the driver seat.

“Okay good, now put your signal on and look over your left shoulder to check your blind spot” He said looking over his shoulder to see my blind spot

Doing as he said, I checked my blind spot and pulled off the curb

“Good, now slowly ease on the brakes going to the stop sign” he replied, but I had gotten nervous and hit the brakes a bit too hard

“I’m sorry” I immediately muttered out

“Don’t worry baby it’s okay” he said looking over at me and reassuring me

Turning the corner (surprisingly without hitting the curb), I smiled at the small accomplishment. But I hadn’t noticed I was driving a bit too slow

Earning a honk from the asshole behind us.

“Oh my god” I started looking into the rear view mirror

“Ignore him, he’s a douchebag” Matt said sticking his hand out the car to tell the guy to chill out

But that seemed to piss the guy off more, and next thing U knew he was honking again.

Getting flustered I sped up a bit and turned the corner. Actually blowing through the stop sign and blowing the corner

“Babe! Stop sign” Matt said getting nervous

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” I said as I got really anxious

Embarrassment and anxiety took over as my face and ears grew hot and my arms got shaky.

“It’s okay, it’s okay baby just take your time okay” Matt said rubbing my back a little bit as he seemed concerned

“Matt I don’t want to do this anymore I’m scared” I replied to him

“It’s okay just stop here and we can switch out” he said pointing to the curb

Pulling over we switched spots and Matt started to drive us back home

“What happened baby?” He asked glancing at me

“That guy just made me nervous and I got flustered and anxious and then blowing through the stop sign didn’t help either” I said shaking my head

“It’s okay, you’re still learning and you’re new to this” he said reassuring me with a smile

We had got back home, but I still couldn’t let go of what happened. Matt had taken notice of this and felt so bad.

Coming up behind me as I sat at the table he slid his arms over me and leaned his head on my shoulder.

“Don’t let it get to you baby okay? You were doing amazing” he said kissing my shoulder

“I know it’s just I felt so bad” I replied shaking my head

“That’s normal, but don’t dwell on it that guy was an asshole” he said nudging me with his head

Smiling at him I kissed his arms that were wrapped around me

“Plussss you didn’t hit any curbs” he said with a smirk, which caused me to roll my eyes and playfully nudge him

“Hey be nice” I said giggling

“No I am! I think that deserves a reward…” he says pulling away

“Ouu does it?” I asked smirking

“Hmm what do you say…about ice cream? He asks winking at me

“I say that would be amazing” I replied standing up from the chair

“Let’s go then, and forget about all this” he stated reaching for my head

Planting a kiss to my head we both walked out. And Matt led the way to the ice cream shop. Soon after we were able to laugh at my embarrassment.

He even convinced me to try again in a couple of days. And I was shocked I agreed to it……

The End

This was trashhhh bc I’m not creative at all. Sorry it was so short😔. I’m back to work, so I’m trying to update almost every day after work. I have 4 more requests, but they are a bit more lengthy 🤔🤭. Love you all for the support 🥹🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

[daydreamsandafternoonteafics]

Let's Pretend It's Love- Chapter 27

banner by ren

This is it.

The day that everyone’s been endlessly preparing for for months is finally here and I think I’m going to be sick.

The morning has been a blur of hemming up dresses, passing notes and pounding on make up and I wish it’d all just slow down for a moment, long enough for me to catch my breath Everyone’s buzzing with excited energy but I feel more anxious than the bride herself. Maybe I’m just jittery from all the coffee and chocolates I’ve downed this morning, maybe I’m still pressed about fitting in my dress or maybe it’s having to pretend that I’m okay that’s really killing me inside.

Three days have passed since the stag party fiasco and it’s safe to say that I’m still trying to recover. While I’d made the biggest fool of myself in front of my new brother in law and his insanely attractive best man, the embarrassment I felt was nothing compared to the heartbreak that ensued later.

I still didn’t understand it all. For months on end, I’d been fighting my feelings, whilst Harry passively aggressively pushed for me to acknowledge them and when I finally wake up and come to my senses he pulls away and changes his mind. It was the ultimate manipulation but part of me thinks I deserve it.

I’d waited too long to reciprocate my feelings. Maybe if I’d been honest with myself before things would be different. But I was too damn stubborn, too afraid to acknowledge the sensations that kept beating me over the head in fear of being wounded but it still happened.

Maybe that’s just the risk of love- it either ends with your heart cradled safely in their hands or getting cut by the jagged pieces as you try to collect it off the floor.

Perhaps I should have listened to Penny and pulled the “I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her” line. It worked for Julia Roberts, at least.

“Bugger,” I groaned, frowning at the smudged eyeliner as I inspected my reflection in the tiny vanity mirror.

I’d been attempting to do a cat eye for the past fifteen minuets and could not manage to keep a steady hand. There was still at least and hour left until the actual wedding began and I’d probably sweat off all the deodorant I’d swiped on early this morning.

I was a bundle of nerves and the fact that I was supposed to be walking down the aisle on Harry’s arm in about 60 minutes was only making it worse. Even being in the house of the Lord couldn’t calm my nerves, I’m bound to be stuck down as soon as I entered the chapel anyway.

“Here, Pres, let me help you with your liner.” Penny cooes, batting her freshly curled and falsie adorned eyelashes at me.

She hasn’t stepped into her wedding gown yet, clad in a white silk robe with the word bride embroidered on the back in baby blue thread and about a thousand bobby pins holding up her waist-length hair.

The dressing room is crowded, make-up bags strewn across the vanities, spanks, and heels thrown on chairs along with stray fabric from the hems of dresses and flecks of glitter that come from nowhere and bridesmaids running to and fro. Despite all the chaos, I can only imagine how happy Penny must be.

“Today is about you Pen, you don’t have to do a single thing for me. I’ll be fine.”

She sighs deeply, staring at her reflection for the millionth time before turning back to me.

“I’m sorry things didn’t work out between you and Harry. I would have changed the line-up but it was so last minute. You do understand, don’t you?”

I sighed, deciding to add a bit more blush into my cheeks.

“Don’t worry about it Penny. It’s not like we hate each other. We’re adults, we can act civil towards each other.”

I didn’t want any bad blood between Harry and me to rain on Penny and Liam’s parade so I knew I was going to have to suck up my anxiety. No one had to know we were at odds and we didn’t necessarily have to be madly in love.

Plenty of bridesmaids and groomsmen interacted normally and they didn’t even have to be attracted to each other. I was more concerned about the reception, how they’ll be laughter and songs about love and how we’ll be on opposite sides of the room, not even giving each other a second glance.

And God, I hope he doesn’t have a date. It will kill me to see him with another girl.

“Well, as long as you’re okay with it, I’ll be okay,” she breathes.

I force a smile, hoping to give some reassurance.

“Penny, get back to your chair! Jen’s coming in in a minute to style your hair. You look like an old maid with those pins in your hair.”

I suddenly feel even more nervous as my mother walks into the room. Her expression is cold and distant like always but the slightest hint of a smile plays on her lips.

She’s dyed her graying strands of hair for the occasion and the tea-length dress that hugs her figure looks more appropriate for a prime minister’s wife than the mother of the bride.

My parents are still out of the loop about things between me and Harry and I intend to keep it that way.

“Have you seen Liam, yet?” Penny beams, “is he nervous?”

She plops back in front of her vanity, sighing daintily.

“Well,” Mum grins. “he hasn’t gotten cold feet yet.”

The biggest smile adorns Penny’s pretty face.

“Oh mum, I’m proper nervous myself but I’m so happy. Terribly and utterly happy.”

I’d never believed in happy endings but maybe now I think they’re a real thing.

Maybe they just weren’t mean for me.

*******

“Fuck! Where are they?!”

Penny hisses stomping her foot and trying hard not to bite away at her perfectly manicured nails. In ten more minuets Penny would be Mrs. Liam Payne and the groomsmen had yet to join the rest of the bridal party in the back of the church.

The church was already full, Liam waiting at the altar, friends and family wedged between the pews and everything was suddenly beginning to feel real for all of us.

“Don’t worry Pen, they’ll get here eventually. You know how men are.” Charlotte assures.

Surprisingly she’s managed not to say a single off hand comment today. Weddings must have the power to turn devils into to angels, even if only for a day.

Penny frowns, looking much like a regal porcelain doll in her lacy gown as she clutches the pink roses to her chest.

“They need to hurry up. I have to pee.”

“There are my beautiful girls!”

Penny’s face lights up upon hearing dad’s voice and for the first time today I genuinely smile as I turn to face him.

His smile is big but there’s something weary in his eyes. He’s probably soon to be hit with the bittersweet emotions of giving away one of his daughters.

He comes to me first, pressing a kiss to the crown of my forehead. As I wrap my arms around him, I suddenly feel at ease.

“How long are you going to be my little girl? You’re not gonna be next are ya?” he questions sadly once we’ve pulled away.

I grin.

“I’m always gonna be your little girl, Daddy. Always.”

My answer seems to please him and he grins, smoothing down my hair before rushing off to Penny. From the corner of my eyes, I spot the groomsmen making their way into the foyer.

My heart won’t settle down as I watch him make his way towards the. He’s always so beautiful but I think I’d never seen him look as handsome as he does now, all dressed up in a tux, his usually wild curls perfectly gelled into place. Suits were a good look on him. Everything’s a good look on him.

The rest of the groomsmen pair up with their bridesmaids, Zayn making sure to send me a wink while Harry stands awkwardly to himself. I don’t want any one to suspect anything so I muster up the courage to approach him.

“Hi.” I whisper, clutching tightly to my bouquet of roses.

The corner of his lips curve up in a small smile, revealing those dimples I’d kissed a million times.

“Hey,”

He stuffs his hands in his pocket staring at me with those hypnotic green eyes, eyes that would make you want to do anything he asked you to.

“You look really nice in your tux. You should wear one more often.”

“Thanks,” he drawls. “you look quite lovely yourself.”

Harry had always given me compliments and they were some of the most genuine I’d ever received. But now it all seemed forced. The word lovely almost sounded like a chore.

It didn’t fall off his lips the same way it had when I’d purposely arrived late at the Wild Sphinx or when I’d slipped on the silly Christmas jumper at his mum’s house, putting on his Rolling Stones shirt or even wearing nothing in front of him for the first time.

There was a sparkle in his eyes then but now it seemed to be gone.

“Thanks.”

I hated this silence between us. That painful silence that former friends and used to be lovers endure when they see each other again after a long time. That deafening silence that lets you know that things are not the same as they were before.

“I have to say thanks, Harry,” I sighed, swallowing the lump in my throat. “thanks for going through with all this.”

“This isn’t- this isn’t about you,” he rasped. “ this is all for Penny and Liam.”

His words sting and I suddenly wish I hadn’t started any conversation at all.

“I know. Thanks- thanks for caring about the people I care about.”

He shrugs.

“That’s what happens when you care about someone, you grow to love the things they love.”

When you care about someone. Dear God, I sure do hope he still cares.

A hushed silence falls over the group, the tune of the wedding march audible through the heavy doors of the chapel. I take a deep breath, reaching out to adjust the rose on Harry’s lapel as the other bridesmaids and groomsmen file into line.

He gives a small grin before gently linking his arm with mine.

Once the first two couples have gone, it’s finally our turn to walk. I force a smile at the guest as I pass, making sure to pace my steps so that they match Harry’s. My nerves finally subside once everyone is in their place and I smile as Penny makes her grand entrance.

When the nuptials begin, It’s hard not to steal glances at Harry. He looks so ethereal he looks standing in front of the stained-glass windows, colored light dancing about his head like a halo.

It’s hard to focus on Penny and Liam’s vows when he’s on the other side of the room, so close but yet seeming so untouchable.

Five minutes, six words, and one kiss later, Penny and Liam are officially husband and wife. The church is bursting with happiness and congratulations as the couple files out of the church in a haze of rose petals and confetti. Penny is no longer a Taylor, and I am no longer a bridesmaid. I should be happy, happy for her, and relieved for myself, but right now, I find it hard to do so.

As I make my way down the steps of the church with the rest of the bridal party and lingering guests, Harry doesn’t even bother to give me a second glance, and suddenly, all I want to do is cry.

****

After much debating I’d managed to convince myself to show up at the reception.

My feet ached in my heels, I was tired from waking up so early and I just wanted to go home and mope but attending the reception was my last and final promise to Penny regarding the wedding. The open bar and gourmet food wasn’t even enough to lift my poor mood but knocking back a glass of champagne and spending a good portion of the night with Zayn seemed to make things a bit more bareable.

“Having fun, yeah?” he asks, flashing his perfect smile at me.

I force a grin, fiddling with the heart-shaped sequin on the tabletop. Mum had managed to out-do herself once again with eyelet lace tablecloths that nearly matched Penny’s dress and red roses as the centerpiece. Everything was so stereotypically Valentine’s themed that it felt more like a school dance than a wedding reception.

“Yeah,” I replied.

If stuffing your face with cake and half-assing the macarena was your idea of fun then sure. My eyes shift around the room, taking in the guest and the new bride and groom cozied up on the dance floor and my heart sinks when I don’t see any sign of him. There were at least two hours into the reception and I’d hardly seen Harry. He’d been on his feet at the very start of it, snapping pictures of wedding guest and the first dances. He probably hadn’t meant to stay all, only planning to do his job and leave. By now I was certain he’d gone home and I’d missed my last chance to make things right.

This was it for sure. I’d fucked up beyond repair and Harry was officially done with me. What hurt the most was knowing that the chances of finding a guy that makes me feel the way he does is one in a million.

“You owe me a slow dance,” Zayn smirks, disrupting my train of thought.

“Oh? I’m not really in the mood. My feet are tired,” I murmured, trying to come up with an excuse.

Zayn stands to his feet straightening his trousers before extending his hand out to me.

“C'mon, babe. Don’t I deserve a dance with the prettiest girl here?”

Ugh, his face is so hard to say no to.

“What’s in it for me?” I joke reluctantly taking his hand.

“I don’t know,” he smirks. “depends on where the rest of the night takes us.”

I force another smile as he leads me to the dance floor, a few couples already swaying to the melody of the song playing. As he wraps his arms around me, I can’t help but think about Harry, when we’d slow danced in my living room and he’d kissed me for the first time. I was so nervous, barely able to keep my breath steady. That’s what it’s supposed to be like, when you’re with the right person but right now I’d rather be somewhere else. I hardly knew him but I knew enough to know that things with Zayn felt boring and forced. He could never be a replacement.

The short while we’d been swaying felt like an eternity and I was so ready for it to be over. It’s almost as if my prayers have been answered when I spot that handsome face across the dance floor, striding his long legs in our direction. I try to hide the grin forming on my lips as Harry places large his hand on Zayn’s shoulder.

“Mate,” he drawls causing Zayn to turn around. “you don’t mind if I cut in, do ya?”

The disappointment on his face is almost too noticeable.

“Sure, excuse me,”

Zayn shoots me a final grin politely dismissing himself. Harry glances down at his shoes before turning his gaze back to me.

“Could I have this dance, m'am?” he asks sheepishly.

I grin. He’d come back, for me.

“I thought you’d never ask, sir.”

He doesn’t hesitate to pull me close, wrapping an arm around the small of my back and grabbing hold on my hand, intertwining our fingers. I close my eyes, resting my head against his shoulder breathing in his cologne.

God, this feels so right. This is perfect.

“Zayn’s a nice bloke,” he starts suddenly.

My eyes shoot open momentarily and my brows furrow in confusion.

“Stop,” I urge. “you’re killing the mood.”

He sighs.

“Just sayin’. I’d approve,”

“Well,” I sighed. “I don’t need your approval because I don’t want Zayn, I want someone else.”

I lift my head from his shoulder to look into his eyes hoping that maybe he’ll catch the hint.

“Hmm, tell me about him,” his eye brows raise, a threatening smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“He’s amazing,” I sigh, “everything I ever wanted but didn’t know I needed. I was really stupid though, didn’t know a good thing if it hit me between the eyes.”

I look up at him again and his expression softens.

“You hurt me real bad, Presley,” he speaks, his voice deep. “how do I know you won’t do it again?”

I sigh, my heart sinking in my chest.

“Fool me once shame on you,” he continues “fool me twice, shame on me,”

“I know, I-”

“Who am I kidding, I’m so fucking crazy about you I’d let you fool me a thousand times.”

I can’t hide the grin on my face and pull away from him briefly, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“I’m crazy about you too, Harry- absolutely mad.”

He genuinely smiles for the first time tonight, leaning down to press his mouth to mine.

My heart swells with so much joy that it almost physically hurts and I can’t help but think that this is what life is supposed to be like, moments so poignant you can’t help but notice the blood rushing through your veins and your heart hammering against your chest. And how much better are these moments if you’ve got someone spectacular to share them with?

“I’m in love with you.” I whisper against his lips.

I never in a million would I have thought those words would pass across my lips and never in a million years would I have known how amazing they sound.

“I want you- I want us,” he drawls, “but you’re gonna to have to work really hard to get back on my good side. This isn’t too forgivable, you know.”

I grin.

“Tell me and I’ll do- anything.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” he grins, pressing his forehead against mine. “let’s get out of here, yeah?”

And that’s just what we did, escaping the crowd as the band plays “Can’t Help Falling In Love”.

As we escape into the night, hand in hand, it’s only then that I realize no matter how hard we fight them, somethings are just meant to be.

Fin.

[kinetic-elaboration]

February 17: Today's Writing Work

My main (only) accomplishment today was finally sitting down to re-read the old Jonty fic and write up my notes on the rest of it. I have to admit that I re-read it and really didn’t feel much of anything. I wasn’t inspired or emotional or even all that gung-ho about jumping back into the universe and playing in it some more. I really is true that that story had its time and that time was 2017 and if I didn’t finish it then, it wasn’t because it was done or because I had nothing else to say, but because I just… didn’t, I didn’t have the drive or sufficiently immediate ideas or whatever. The story had no notes, not outline, nothing but the 6k of text that it looks like I wrote over a couple of weeks, t I don’t even have any particular memories of writing it to help me out.

Still, I don’t want to abandon it. I don’t want to publish it unfinished when it could be finished in so few scenes and I don’t want to just stuff it back in the vault and continue lying to myself about finishing it later. And I don’t want to just admit I’ll never finish it because I’m way too stubborn.

Also, it’s okay for some writing to just be workmanlike. A lot of the last scenes of the Time Loop kinda were, to be honest. But I didn’t worry too much about it; I knew I wanted to finish it, so I finished it, and writing itself feels good more often than not, regardless of what I’m writing, and there’s a lot in the last 1-2 chapters that I really like and am proud of. It’s always work. Like it’s way easier to be excited about something hypothetically than to actually DO it, that’s always true, so maybe it doesn’t matter too much if that initial excitement about the concept isn’t there? I just got to do it.

I will say that allowing myself to just think about it casually, and then actually doing some work on it, got me a little more excited, at least to be accomplished if not to get into this particular ‘verse. I also looked at old J/M gifsets and stuff and then I accidentally reread all of Iridescent, which, honestly, holds up really well. It made me feel soft for them again.

I still don’t feel, like, super psyched? But I do have that anxious sort of gearing up energy that I hope will lead to actual writing, maybe even tomorrow. That’s always part of it for me: I actually write things when I get so jittery about having the words in my head I just NEED to let them out and then I just RUN through them and see what happens. I also wrote a lot of notes for myself for the two canon scenes in particular, kind of just wrote out all of the dialogue points but skipped the specific wording and the description. Maybe it was too much and it will hurt the finished product but… I did it basically as proof of concept and because I wanted to give myself as much of a crutch as possible. Like literally all I need to do is set up the scene, then move back and forth between these predetermined dialogue points. I don’t usually go that detailed in notes, though it’s not totally unprecedented, but knowing that this story did have a particular purpose and that I’m only writing 3 more scenes to finish, I really wanted to make sure there was a place for every bit of dialogue I wanted to include and that I wouldn’t miss anything at the last minute. There’s a lot of not-talking and not-explaining in the first 6k I won’t lie. It probably will be jarring to read it and see that all of a sudden in the last third or so, everyone knows how to communicate suddenly lol. But I’ll try to make it all fit as well as possible!

[stmulnts-a]

anonymous  :                tweek ships - creek (that's a given, who are we kidding?), twenny, tweek/butters, tweek/thomas (tourettes kid)

creek ― I Am So Normal About This Ship (lying) (gripping my knees) their individual personalities and ways of thinking differ so much. like Craig being so collected and logical vs Tweek’s jittery outbursts and impulsive/intrusive thoughts. but they compliment each other so well? like... idk i feel like they rub off on each other in the long run, like they even each other out. no one’s too much or not enough because together they’re like half n half. idk was that a decent pun? granted they kinda need to work on communicating (at least canonically/in their like. teenage to young adult years lol). i mean to be COMPLETELY honest tho it probably doesn’t help that i can lowkey sorta relate to both Tweek and Craig individually in different ways. like i get real bad waves of anxiety sometimes, and i tend to think logically (i also kinda self-DX’d adhd and/or autism based on heavy research), so like. putting them together just feels like This Is How My Brain Works. anyway. I Love Them So Much 🥺💚💙

twenny ― i simply think it would be so funny to call this ship kek instead /j i feel like there would be so much boundary-pushing here. whether it’s a healthy pushing of boundaries, or unhealthy, is really up in the air in my opinion (but i’m kinda leaving that aspect in particular to individual portrayals lol). also just. Tweek freaking out over Kenny dying. that would happen. so much. probably. i feel like, even if he doesn’t remember when Kenny dies, Tweek would feel like something’s wrong until he actually sees Kenny face to face again. and then he’d be very “oh my GOD Kenny there you are. are you okay?? where did you go??? don’t worry about me i’m just glad i know you’re safe”

tweek/butters ― they’re so fucking soft and they’re so ready to hype each other up in their own lil ways Tweek’s anxious? Butters gonna let him get his jitters out. Butters’ dealing with his parents’ bullshit again? Tweek going off on them for him. but for the most part? they’re just chillin. Butters manages to keep Tweek’s mind off the chaos outside/online, Tweek manages to keep Butters’ mind off his parents/other stressors, and they just exist in peace for a little bit, until they have to leave whoever’s bedroom they’re in. in conclusion: this is lowkey golden retriever softboy for golden retriever softboy

tweek/thomas ― i...don’t have a lot of thoughts on this one, my memory’s awful and i don’t really remember much about Thomas aside from the fact that he has tourette’s. my only real thought is just... they’ll verbalize outbursts in tandem sorry :(

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙮 𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘝𝘐𝘐 - 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙚) || sub!bucky barnes x dominatrix!reader

(𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐𝘐) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘝) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘝) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘝𝘐)

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || the finale.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 3.5k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || fluff, angst, implied smut, domestic goodness, more EMOTIONS!!!

six months ago...

Bucky wrung his hands a few times before knocking on your door, feeling his heart beat a little faster when he could hear the sounds of your footsteps on the other side. He'd been dreaming of a day like this for so long— the day he finally acted on this secret obsession he had, the day he stopped fantasizing and started realizing— but all this time, part of him had never really thought he'd go through with it. I mean, there's a pretty big difference between jerking off to videos of dominant women and actually getting spanked, slapped, and choked by a dominatrix after paying her an insane amount of money per hour.

But frankly, Bucky needed a big difference from what he'd been doing. He'd been alone for a little too long, he needed someone else's touch before he lost his mind. And he knew that he needed something more substantial than a hook-up, someone who wouldn't expect him to be dominant at all. Even in a kink-less, vanilla hook-up, there’s still an onus of dominance, that’s what Bucky had realised. He’s still supposed to initiate, to guide, to be fully in control… and he hates how it feels to be in control. He’s not used to it, and it doesn’t feel right, and it just makes him sure he’ll do something wrong. So here he was, standing at your door, hoping you’d take away his freedom to do something wrong.

The latch turned and you opened it.

Fuck.

You looked great. Too great, almost overwhelming. Even better than the pictures on your website.

You looked so much softer than the women he saw whenever he searched up femdom porn (yes, that was pretty much the first thing he did once he figured out google— thankfully he had also figured out incognito mode), but your presence was twice as commanding. Your eyes scanned over him quickly and your face stayed annoyingly stoic.

You invited him in; And since then, you’d had him wrapped around your finger.

Even knowing to a certain extent what he was getting into, he could’ve never prepared for how quickly he’d fall for you. Not that he was exactly new to the feeling, but he thought guilt might eat him alive: because of course he felt awful for developing real feelings for you. You were just doing your job and he was falling into the same trap that probably every dumbass client fell into.

Or maybe they actually knew what they were doing and understood how to separate fantasy from reality. He couldn’t decide which one was worse.

He spent a few hours trying to decide while staring up at his ceiling— certainly a better way to spend the time than being social or taking care of unfinished business, right?

But leave it to you to change everything with just three words. Make me yours.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about those words— or about the way you said them— since the moment you spoke them. He hadn’t stopped changing his mind on if he could really believe you were his or not. He wanted to, more than anything; and in those brief moments he did, he felt a joy that he had no idea what to do with.

He frowned as he turned his back towards the mirror, looking over his shoulder to watch his finger run over the fading scars on his back. They’d be gone for good in less than a week, but he knew you had left plenty of permanent marks on him— just unfortunately not those that anyone else could see. He liked the way these scars looked under your fingertips much more than his; he liked everything about being in your arms.

Since you’d texted him to ask if you could have a serious talk with him soon, he worried he wouldn’t get to feel that again. In fact, nothing worried him more.

He was typically antsy as he waited for you to answer the door— he had been since that very first time so long ago— but this felt entirely different: not as jittery, but a thousand times more anxious.

At first he’d been wishing you’d answer it right away, but then he heard your bolt turn and panic landed on him like a dangling anvil dropping on a cartoon character. Suddenly the last thing he wanted was for you to open that door, to be standing there looking all perfect and shit, to smile at him and greet him and invite him in. He didn’t want it; he couldn’t take it.

But you did it all anyway, though it was obviously and immediately a new situation entirely, compared to every other time you’d done it.

You were dressed differently, still formal but definitely toned down. Nothing sexual, at least not objectively. And your smile, though it still made his heart skip a beat just like always, was noticeably softer and maybe a bit sadder.

He stepped in past you, and you surprised him by sitting next to him on the couch rather than across from him on your chair. “Do you want, like, water or anything?” you asked, breaking the silence for a moment.

“No, I’m fine,” he nodded.

Bucky had gotten pretty good at silence these past few years; it didn’t bother him, in fact he barely even noticed it. But this silence made him remember why everyone else hated silence so much: it was heavy and thick and made him overcome with the need to blurt something out. “Everyone calls me Bucky,” he finally admitted. You smiled.

“Do you want me to call you that?” you asked.

He considered your question, trying to imagine you saying it. “I… I used to think it would be better, but now I like the way you say ‘James’ too much.”

“If you thought it would be better, why did you ask me to call you James?” you pressed.

“Because I didn’t want you to know who I was.”

“I know who you are,” you informed him. “I always knew.”

He swallowed as the pit formed in his gut, glancing away to hide from your gaze. “You did a good job of… of pretending you didn’t. You never seemed scared of me.”

“Because I wasn’t. And I’m not.”

He couldn’t imagine how; but then again, if there was any truly fearless woman, he figured it would be you. “I thought you’d beat me up better if you knew what I’d done,” he admitted, almost smiling but not exactly feeling very happy. “Thought you might want… revenge.”

“Surprised that didn’t make you want to tell me.”

He laughed a bit at that. “Yeah, fair enough.”

You asked him a very different question next, one that made his throat suddenly dry: "Have you ever had something that was all your own?" you spoke gently.

"Not for a long time…" he trailed off, letting his eyes unfocus as he stared down at your floor before finding the courage to look up at you again. “Is that what you wanna be?” he asked, already wishing he hadn’t said anything in case it was too presumptuous, but you just smiled back at him in a shy sort of way.

“Something like that,” you mitigated.

His eyes darted around your face— from your eyes glancing away, to your lips that you gnawed on for a moment, to the little crease between your brows— and he found himself leaning forward before he even realized it. “Can I kiss you?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t answer, you just kissed him first; he was so relieved that you did it, too, that you took control so easily and just let him melt into your kiss. As good as it felt to submit to you, he enjoyed the new freedom he had in this moment as well— the freedom to reach up and grab your waist, to brush his hand over your hair, to tilt his head and deepen the kiss further.

It was hard to define exactly where it went from innocent to sensual to sexual, but by the time you were straddling his lap and running your fingers through his hair, it was definitely sexual.

“I want you,” you breathed against his lips.

“Have me,” he offered immediately, “I’m yours. Always was.”

He breathed in sharply when you moved your hips just right to rub up against his swelling cock through his jeans, making him grip your waist a bit harder. “Good boy,” you whispered. “You’re so good, James.”

He believed you this time, finally.

For your first real date, he took you to Coney Island. Not the classiest affair, and he promised to take you somewhere really nice next, but you didn’t mind. It was jarring to see you in casual clothes for the first time, something summer-y and light which was everything opposite to how he was used to seeing you; but he liked it, and he liked knowing a secret about you as you walked through a crowd of carnival-goers that were none the wiser.

He walked you through the fair and explained how he remembered it, showed you the few things that hadn’t changed much. He bought you a hot dog and even won you a prize at one of the games; that one where you throw a baseball and it measures your pitch speed? Yeah, it’s rigged, but he pitched lefty and it seemed to even everything out. (It’s not cheating, okay? It’s beating them at their own game, literally.)

So with a massive teddy under one arm and his waist wrapped in your other, you two walked through the winding pier, under twinkling lights and over walkways towering over the ocean below. And then you fooled around a bit on the ferris wheel. It was the ideal Coney Island experience, for sure.

Bucky didn’t have a ton of friends, per se, but he was excited for you to meet them. Meeting friends was certainly a step, though; hopefully a step you were willing to take, but he didn’t want to ask you to do it without at least having a title to introduce you with.

“I want you to be my girlfriend,” he finally told you.

“I kinda thought I already was,” you laughed.

And so, with more pride than he might have ever had for anything before, Bucky finally got to take you to meet everyone (‘everyone’ being a mix of his friends and his coworkers, who may or may not be his friends because he couldn’t always tell) and say “I want you guys to meet my girlfriend.”

Of course you were amazing with all of them; you continued that tactful “I know who you are but I’m pretending I don’t to be nice” thing that you’d started with him, and everyone seemed to appreciate it. You cracked a couple jokes, everyone laughed.

You lied about how you and Bucky met, or at least answered very strategically. Everyone at least pretended to believe you.

Afterwards, they all said something about how great you were or about how lucky he was. The only thing he ever said back was “I know.”

Now that he could kiss you without breaking any rules, he never wanted to stop. He hardly ever did, actually. He kissed you basically whenever he could get the chance; you two didn’t even go out much anymore because he wasn’t very good at keeping his hands to himself, but you weren’t exactly complaining about staying in. You were too busy kissing him back, and teasing him mercilessly while you were at it, to do that.

You had already found the fastest way to get him needy and begging, not that any way took very long. If you kissed him while you straddled his lap, wrapping your arms around him and slowly grinding against him, he lost it in minutes. And you really seemed to get a kick out of watching him lose it, just as much as always.

It made him realize that the way you looked at him before, in sessions and scenes together, was a lot less of an act than he’d assumed at the time. He just thought you were a really good actress, or that he was really whipped; and maybe the first was true, and the second was absolutely true, but regardless it had become clear that you had it almost as bad as he did from the beginning. It gave him even more respect for how well you controlled yourself, he certainly hadn’t had much self-control at the time— after all the whole ordeal was about losing control, and occasionally about trying to gain it back.

He didn’t ask you to quit your job. He didn’t want or expect you to; but you did cut down your hours, which gave the two of you more time together.

To be totally honest, part of him got a bit titillated to imagine you with your other clients. He didn’t like the idea of other men touching you, but he smirked at the thought of them begging to touch you and being denied; he liked knowing that you didn’t do with them even half of the stuff you’d done with him when he was your client.

But he wasn’t your client anymore. He was your boyfriend, and he wanted the world to know it.

six months later...

He let you struggle to reach the top shelf for a moment, just because you looked cute on your tip-toes with the tip of your tongue sticking out of the corner of your mouth, before he finally relented and helped you grab the bottle of rice wine vinegar.

“Thanks,” you smiled as he set it in the cart.

After that you let him grab everything, content to stand on the end of the cart and push you around as you reminded him what else you needed.

“We’re out of Captain Crunch!” you remembered as he passed the cereal aisle, pointing to try to get him to turn.

“Yes, and we need to stay that way,” Bucky explained sternly, “that shit is addictive. Only way to avoid it is to not have it in the house.”

You frowned but accepted that he was absolutely right, though you groaned when he took you to the refrigerated section to stock up on chicken breasts. “I swear, you would eat these for breakfast if you didn’t think I’d judge you for it,” you joked.

“What’s wrong with chicken breasts?”

“They’re just so… bland!”

“Not if you season them right,” he corrected.

“Which you don’t,” you rolled your eyes. “Come on, at least splurge on some chicken thighs. They’re basically the same but so much more flavorful.”

“Fine, but no more making fun of my cooking,” Bucky decided, placing the breasts back on the shelf and grabbing two packs of thighs instead. “I’m still adapting to 21st century sensibilities.”

“Right,” you nodded, though he caught your smile in the corner of his eye— you knew he couldn’t exactly claim to still be as conservative as he was raised to be in every way.

Like any well-planned grocery run, it ended at the frozen section where you got some fruit bars and frozen vegetables (you had this theory that frozen vegetables tasted better in fried rice than fresh ones, and so far you’d proven him right) and he got a pizza to have for dinner in a pinch. When shopping alone before, he always did self-checkout to avoid being seen anymore than he had to… he still did it with you, but he didn’t even think about who might be looking at him, because all he saw was you.

You drove for this trip, and he always felt oddly soothed by riding passenger with you at the wheel. He liked to close his eyes and lean back a bit, or occasionally look over at you (but if he did it too much you complained that he was being creepy and distracting you). It shouldn’t be too much of a surprise that he enjoyed the feeling of you taking control, considering everything, but it was one of those little ways that he hadn’t expected. He just felt so comfortable, so safe with you, and never he felt like he was a burden for asking you to take the lead when he didn’t trust himself with it. And that applied to everything— driving, cooking, speaking up in crowds, all those little things that sometimes made him anxious.

There were some things he didn’t have any trouble being dominant about, though. He was very protective of you, for example, and tended to be uptight about how late you went out for walks or where you should be going alone. And he didn’t struggle to ask you for what he wanted— he was getting a lot better at asking for help, specifically.

He used to ask you to say that you loved him, instead of just saying ‘I love you’ himself, because for some reason it was easier to make you do it first. It started as something he’d beg for in the throes of passion, fingers digging into your skin as his eyes watered (as they often did in intimate moments): please, say you love me— jus’ need to hear you say it, please? And you were always sweet about it in return, of course I love you, James, my good boy, I love you so so much. But then he’d ask you to say it whenever he felt like it— he’d come up behind you while you were reading or cooking or something and kiss the top of your head or the shell of your ear and try to act nonchalant as he asked you love me, right?

You’d laugh and roll your eyes before you answered, but it was, thankfully, always a ‘yes.’ Eventually you figured out how often you needed to say it to make him stop asking all the time, which was probably a little too often.

“I love you,” you blurted out randomly as you turned on your signal and leaned a bit to make sure it was safe to make a left— case in point.

“I love you too,” he answered back with a smile.

“I don’t mind saying it so often,” you added, “but you know that I love you even when I’m not saying it, right? I love you all the time.”

It was a simple question, probably mostly rhetorical, but it hit him harder than he expected. “Yeah, I know,” he managed to get out evenly enough that you didn’t notice he was tearing up a bit.

He put the groceries away while you took the trash out; you liked to keep the fridge pretty organized, and it was an adjustment at first, but by now Bucky had it down pat. Before you, he hadn’t even considered that the contents of a refrigerator could be aesthetically pleasing.

Dinner was leftovers in front of the TV— you two were almost done with Frasier, but after that you had ten seasons of Friends to get through. You had tried to encourage him to watch more challenging stuff— you know, True Detective, Hannibal, dark cerebral stuff with arguably more artistic merit than classic sitcoms— but Bucky had had enough darkness in his life that he didn’t need it in his fiction. Maybe he’d find the time to catch up on the last 80 years of dramas and murder mysteries after he caught up on the last 80 years of comedy.

After dinner you were going to do yoga and Bucky, not in the mood to embarrass himself with that, retired to the bedroom a bit early to read his book— he’d heard a lot about this Harry Potter guy and now that he was on the fourth book and could hardly put it down, he understood the hype. He related a bit to the unwilling war hero in its protagonist; most of the time the series enthralled him, but occasionally something would hit too deep and he’d have to put it away for a couple days. At the moment, though, he was in one of the easy parts where it was just about schoolwork and childhood antics.

He instinctively glanced at the door when he heard you open it— he wasn’t sure how long it had been time-wise, but he’d gotten through quite a few pages— but he only quickly looked up at you as you shut the door behind you, before returning his attention to the book he was reading. “So, Bucky…” you began.

“Yeah?” he mumbled.

“James.”

It wasn’t any one thing that got his attention— not just the tone of your voice or the way it got a bit deeper, not just the look you gave him, not just the way the air of the room seemed to shift all at once. It was everything about you that made his body react instantly. He shut the book and set it aside, sitting up straight to look at you expectantly.

And you seemed to notice his instinctual obedience, considering you just barely smirked at him, raising an eyebrow as he spoke his reply: “Yes, Mistress?”

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Reborn - Part 9

Fic: A Woman Reborn (Part 9)

Pairing: Billy Russo X Reader (from A Woman Scorned)

Rating: R / 18+ only

A/N: This is a sequel to A Woman Scorned and takes place a few years after the events of AWS.

MasterList (includes links to AWS and previous chapters here)

Summary: You and Billy are happily married when tragedy strikes, jeopardizing your relationship and everything you two have built together. Can the two of you find your way back to each other or is the special bond you once shared broken forever?

beautiful moodboard courtesy of @thatbritishactor​

It was Saturday afternoon and you’d already tackled all the things you needed to do for the day. After returning from Chicago yesterday, you’d spent the day unpacking and doing laundry, and earlier this morning you’d completed your grocery shopping and done some meal preps. Staying busy helped keep your mind off things like your mom. And when your brain wasn’t focused on her, it was concentrated on stupid Billy. His arrogant words still rung in your ear, infuriating you every time you thought about it. Nope. Absolutely not. You refused to waste any more of your mental energy on that jackass.

The one thing you still had to do was have a conversation with Karen about Matt, sooner the better. You really should have talked to her before storming off to Matt’s and sleeping with him but that night your mind had been on other things. You really hoped Karen wouldn’t be hurt. Even if she was with Frank now and they seemed happy, seeing a friend date an ex was awkward. The last thing you wanted was to jeopardize your friendship, especially as she’d been very supportive during the past few years.

Hesitantly you picked up the phone and sent Karen a text asking to meet for drinks.

She replied shortly after and the two of you set a time and place.

Feeling jittery and anxious, you decided to go for a walk.

***

Later that evening you and Karen were at a restaurant, catching up when the conversation turned to your mom.

“You should take more time off. Frank and Curtis will understand,” Karen said, biting into a crunchy piece of crab Rangoon.

You followed suit, shaking your head. “No, I’d rather work.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? I asked the guys about the details for the service, I thought maybe you wanted us to be there-”

“Didn’t want to inconvenience you guys. Plus, she and I weren’t very close.”

Karen gave you a knowing glance. She didn’t ask you to elaborate, and you didn’t volunteer any information. Something in her expression conveyed that she understood complicated family dynamics and the desire to keep the past in the past- for which you were grateful.

“So what did you want to talk about?”

Nervous, you bit the inside of your cheek. “I need to tell you something. I… I hooked up with Matt last week.”

Karen quirked her eyebrow, surprised. “Oh.”

“I know you guys used to date before, and I shouldn’t have done it. I just – well, it happened. I went over to his place and we started talking and-”

“Y/N, seriously, you don’t need to explain. Matt and I went out on like three dates, that’s all.”

“Are you sure? If you’re upset with me, I get it.”

“I’m not hurt, don’t worry. What I felt for Matt, it was a crush. Nothing more. He and I are better as friends and I’m…” She dipped her head to the side, wearing a glowing smile. “I’m happy with Frank.”

“You guys seem really good together.”

Karen sipped her wine. “So are you and Matt dating or just hooking up?”

“I have no idea. I’m glad it happened though. It was fun,” you admitted, chuckling. “To be honest, we haven’t even gone out on a date.”

“Okay…” her voice trailed off, a hesitant expression on her face.

“What is it?”

She exhaled a resigned sigh. “Please be careful. Matt is a great guy but he doesn’t let people in very easily.”

“I know how that is.”

“And he likes to take on the weight of the world on his shoulders. It’s easy to start seeing him as a knight in shining armour - but he’s not. So don’t fall in love with him thinking he’s perfect, he’s definitely not.”

“No danger of that, don’t worry.”

The truth was, you never wanted to fall in love again. You were ready to move on, maybe even be in a relationship with someone, but you refused to risk your heart like before. Your relationship with Billy had meant everything to you, he’d been your whole world, and losing him had devastated you completely. You didn’t simply lose your husband after the accident, you lost your entire sense of being, your confidence, even your self-worth. If falling in love and losing it meant experiencing that depth of pain and self-loathing again, you didn’t want any part of it.

“Are you okay?”

You offered her a small nod. “I’m fine.”

“I heard Billy’s back at Anvil again.”

You bit down on your lip, avoiding Karen’s gaze. “Yeah.”

Tomorrow would be the first time you’d be seeing him since he came to your hotel room in Chicago and you weren’t looking forward to it. Not for a second did you believe his words that night were sincere. You still remembered how he’d look at you before the divorce, the sheer contempt and hatred he felt for you. After he came out of his coma, he was repulsed by you, your appearance, your personality – everything that made you you – and it all chipped away at your confidence until there was nothing left. And now he was pretending he wanted you? You weren’t a fool. He was up to something and you wanted no part of it.

“How’s that going?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “All he wants to do is goad me into arguments.”

“How do you think he’ll handle the Matt thing?”

“It’s none of his business.”

“Is he still with Dumont?” Karen asked.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” you bit out. “Look, do me a favour – don’t tell Frank and Curtis about the whole Matt thing. It’s still pretty new and I just don’t want any lectures from them.”

“Why would they? It’s none of their business.”

“Yeah well, Frank told me the other day I needed to be patient with Billy and-”

“You’ve been more than patient! You don’t owe Billy anything, especially when he despises you and treats you the way he does.” Karen paused. “I shouldn’t-”

“It’s fine. It’s true.” Even though you pretended it didn’t bother you, you cringed internally. You’d always been reserved, preferring to keep things to yourself, but in the last two years people who you considered family had been witness to your crumbling marriage and all your humiliations. You hated it, it made you feel vulnerable and exposed and pathetic, another reason why it was crucial you moved on – you wanted to stop being an object of pity for the world.

“You deserve to be happy.”

The genuine sincerity in Karen’s words touched your heart. “Thank you.”

“And don’t worry, I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

You sent her a grateful smile.  

“Frank mentioned that there’s some sort of gala you guys need to attend soon?”

It was the annual fundraiser that had become a significant networking function within the sector. For a mid-size company like Anvil, attendance was critical because it provided a lot of exposure to affluent clients and potential for lucrative contracts. In the first year after Billy’s accident, there had been no Anvil presence and it had negatively impacted the company’s bottom line. The following year, you rectified the situation.  

“Yeah, it’s a pretty important event.”

“So you’re going?”

“Have to. We purchased a table for 6 and it was bloody expensive. Frank wasn’t happy about that.”

Karen laughed. “Yeah, he’s also pissed about having to wear a tux.”

“He has no choice. It’s a formal event. Black tie and all.”

The two of you made plans to go shopping together and eventually the conversation turned to Karen’s work and the latest article she was working on.

***

Billy couldn’t keep his eyes off of you as you reviewed the financial metrics for the last quarter. It’s not that he wasn’t paying attention, he definitely was and he was happy that Anvil had met the target projections, but this shit was a lot more enjoyable when you were the one explaining them. Especially when you looked so hot doing it. Dressed in a black and white plaid tweed dress that was moulded to your body and paired with turquoise heels – a combination that shouldn’t have worked but hell yeah it did – you discussed the metrics and the upcoming quarter. Frank and Curtis liked to lead meetings sitting down but that wasn’t your style. You preferred to walk around and own the room when you were presenting, making eye contact with your audience and speaking to them directly as if you were telling an interesting story rather than reciting dry data. Of course it annoyed Billy that you never looked at him.

As easy as you made it look though, that kind of effortless presentation skills didn’t come easy to you. You practiced and prepared. He recalled countless nights where he played the part of the audience, where he helped you practice when you were especially nervous going in front of the investor board at Valiant, how there were times you were feeling low or uninspired and then he’d have to shut your laptop and force you to take a walk with him so you could rejuvenate yourself mentally.

More and more he remembered small details about your married life together and the hollow ache in his chest expanded. You liked sleeping in whereas he was usually up at the crack of dawn, whether it was the weekend or not – a habit he formed from being a marine. You hated cooking, and you were terrible at it. But every once in a while you’d be inspired to cook something for him which he’d be forced to taste and no matter how hard he tried to mask his reactions you would always see through the ruse. Then he’d have to coddle you and appease you to make you feel better which was his favourite part. When you were on your period you turned into both a raging bitch and a crying mess but he also loved how needy you were during those times. You’d be more affectionate than usual, asking for hugs, clinging to him while he prepped hot water bags for your body aches. You were so damn independent most of the time but not when you were sick or feeling unwell and then you turned into a high maintenance mistress who he absolutely loved lavishing attention on.

That was something else he remembered clearly: the constant state of panic and fear he was in at the thought of losing you. It didn’t matter if everything was fine and things were going great, he was always paranoid that you’d leave him.

“So if there aren’t any other questions, that’s it. Enjoy your lunch!”

Your words brought him out of his reverie, and he realized everyone else was leaving the boardroom. You, however, were busy typing on your laptop, back to work as always. That was the thing about you, you were a workaholic and it was him who had to remind you to establish boundaries and take care of yourself. “You should have taken more days off,” he remarked.

You looked up, apparently surprised he was still lingering in the room. “I’m fine,” you replied in a clipped tone.

“Are you? I know how messed up things were between you and your mom.”

“You don’t know anything.”

As you gathered your things together, he stood up and approached the door, leaning back against it. He loved watching you, especially when you were hellbent on ignoring him. You tried to act unaffected but he knew you and your body too well, knew when a heated blush started at your neck and slowly spread up to your cheeks, how your hands shook ever so slightly because your heart was pounding so hard, how aroused you got when all he did was simply look at you.

You approached the door, stopping in front of him. “Get out of my way, Billy. I have things to do.”

He angled forward slightly, finding himself in the perfect position to breathe in both your perfume and the scent of jasmine in your shampoo. Compelled to touch you, he reached out to brush the bottom strands of your hair. “Want to know why I love this new haircut so much?”

You looked taken aback by his words, your cheeks flushed. “I don’t give a shit.”

He smirked. “Gives me a better view of your body. Front and back.”

You rolled your eyes. “Really? That’s a terrible line.”

He laughed. “It’s the truth.”

“It’s bullshit,” you countered.

His eyes dropped to your lips, aching to taste you. He hadn’t kissed you in so fucking long, he missed it, missed the way you’d moan into his mouth and grab him. The way your tongue played with his, how frustrated you’d get when he teased you mercilessly, your soft groans when his beard scraped against your soft flesh, the friction turning you on.

Your breaths grew heavy, drawing his attention to the swell of your breasts and it took every fucking bit of self-control he had not to sink his face into your tits. He used to be able to make you come just by playing with your nipples – were you still that sensitive? Could he still do it? His cock twitched, he was dying to find out.

“Stop looking at me like that.” Your attempt at sounding calm was utter bullshit, he could hear how excited you were in the breathy tone of your voice.

“Like what?” he teased, cocking his eyebrow. “Like I’m picturing you naked right now? Like I’m remembering how fucking sweet your pussy tastes when I’m eating you out? How goddamn divine your cunt feels when I’m inside you and you’re screaming my name?”

“Stop!” you snapped, taking a step back.

“I bet you’re dripping wet right now.”

Your eyes burned with rage and passion when you met his gaze. “Fuck you!”

“Ready and willing, sweetheart.”

Tension blanketed the air, thick and palpable, you trying to cling to your hostility, him curbing the urge to storm over and fuck you on the boardroom table. He felt your resolve waver with every second, the desperation in your eyes akin to an animal trapped. You turned around suddenly, refusing to look at him, and he knew it was a defensive tactic, a way for you to hold onto your anger so he wouldn’t slip through. Fuck that. He moved forward until he was standing behind you, his front flush against your back, his hands on your sides, fisting your dress. He saw you grip the edges of the boardroom table, squeezing so hard that your knuckles were visibly paler than the rest of your skin.

“I know I said two weeks,” he murmured, nuzzling your hair, inhaling you in. “But we don’t have to wait that long. We don’t need to.”

“Oh, was that for my benefit? What do you think is gonna happen in two weeks, Billy? Do you think I’m just gonna get over everything and spread my legs for you?”

Annoyed, he pressed himself tightly against you, wanting you to know exactly how goddamn hard he was for you. “We start new.”

“But I’m not interested in that. I don’t want to have anything to do with you.”

Your words hurt, even though the rational part of him knew it was a lie and a form of self-preservation. You were trying to protect yourself but he wasn’t going to let you hide from him. His hand slid in between your legs, trailing up. Your breath hitched in your throat, hips swaying closer – exactly what he wanted. Fingers pressed against the fabric of your lace panties, finding them soaking wet, because no matter how much you fought with him you still wanted him. Even though he was desperate to fill you with his cock and fuck you senseless, he held back. You pulsed under his touch as he expertly caressed your pussy and soon your body rocked against his erection, silently urging for more – but he didn’t, instead only teasing you. “Been so long. Hasn’t it?”

Your body arched against him, boneless and fluid when his fingers thrummed inside you. He reached around to cup your left breast with his free hand, thumb brushing against your hardened nipple which he felt despite the layers of fabric. “You want this. You want me…” he insisted, nipping your earlobe.

A guttural moan escaped your lips.

“Say it, babe.”

He sensed you emotionally withdrawing from him right away, the moment now broken. Fuck! He wanted to kick himself for pushing you because the demand in his voice broke the spell you were under. 

You pulled his hand away from between your legs and started straightening your dress. “You’re good at getting women off, Billy. You always have been. So, yeah, I want you but it doesn’t mean anything.”

He released his grip on you, physically maneuvering you around so you were facing him again. You were spouting bullshit and he was sick of it. “You expect me to believe you feel nothing for me? That’s a fucking lie, sweetheart. We both know that.”

“What do you want from me?”

He contemplated sweetening his words so it didn’t piss you off further – but decided to go with honesty instead. “Everything.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You don’t ask for much, do you?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “You wanted the truth.”

“But you’re not giving me the truth. What you’re doing is feeding me lines, you’re trying to seduce me because you want something. So why don’t you just drop the act and tell me what it is?”

Anger swept over him. “Why is it so hard for you to believe I want you?”

“Because you had me and you threw me away! You broke my fucking heart!”

Your lips trembled as you lashed out at him. Hurt saturated your voice, it was etched on your face, and all that anguish instantly elicited a flood of shame and regret within him. “Y/N, I-”

You shoved him away. “If you ever touch me again I’m going to put in my resignation effective immediately.” You were back in control. The walls were up, all signs of vulnerability already tucked away. “I’m not a fucking toy for you to play with and I’m done putting up with your shit. The only reason I’m here is because your friends begged me for help.” Jaw clenched, laptop flush against your chest, your gaze was icy-cold and your voice blank. “If you harass me again or pull another stunt like this, I’ll fucking walk out of here and never look back. Anvil will sink without me, and so will Frank and Curtis, and you’ll be the one responsible.”

He didn’t give a shit about Anvil or even Frank and Curtis. All he cared about was you and making things right again. “Can we just go somewhere and talk? Please?”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

You were pissing him off. How was he supposed to fix things if you wouldn’t even talk to him? “Stop being so goddamn stubborn.”

Before you could fire back a response, Curtis walked into the boardroom. Immediately his eyes drifted between him and you, obviously picking up on the tension in the air. “Everything okay here?”

“No, Curtis, everything isn’t okay.” Your voice was firm, rigid. “Every time I turn around your buddy here is either trying to provoke me into a fight or outright harassing me and I’m sick of it. I can’t keep working like this. I won’t! So you can either convince him to leave me alone or I put in my resignation. Your call.”

You stormed out, careful not to touch Billy as you walked past him.

“Really?” Curtis asked, giving him a disappointed glance. “I get that you two are divorced now but you can’t just go around disrespecting her. She doesn’t deserve to be treated like shit, not after everything she’s done for you. And us!”

Billy exhaled a heavy sigh, taking a seat. “Wasn’t trying to piss her off. Just wanted to talk to her.”

“She doesn’t want to listen, and she doesn’t have to.” Curtis took the seat next to him. “Leave her alone, Billy. She just lost her mom and she’s probably still hurting from the divorce. She needs time to recover and she can’t do that if you’re always talking smack to her face.”

Billy remained quiet, digesting Curtis’s words.

“I know you don’t remember any of this but there was a time when you loved that woman. You would have died for her and she’d have done the same. Just cause things changed for you and you hate her-”

“Of course I don’t hate her!” Billy snapped.

Curtis shot him a pointed glance. “All you’ve done for the last year is bitch about how much she’s stifling you. Then you messed around on her and filed for divorce. Maybe you don’t hate her but you sure as hell don’t care either. At least let her be so she can move on and be happy.”

Billy started pacing the floor. “All of that was before - when my head was still messed up from the accident and I was confused. But now things are different, everyday I’m around her I remember more stuff. It’s all coming back and I’m not gonna give up on us! She just needs to let me prove-”

“Bro…” Curtis sent him a pitying glance, like Billy was some kind of fucking idiot. “It’s too late for that after everything that’s happened. You gotta see that.”

“Fuck you, Curtis! You don’t know anything about me and her, the shit we’ve gone through. I’m not gonna walk away from her just to make things easier for everyone!”

Curtis stood up. “Fine. Do what you want. But you keep pushing her this way and she’s gonna run and never look back. Hope you’re ready for that, brother.”

Alone again now that Curtis left, he flung a chair across the room.

***

A week later

It started off like any other day. Work in the morning, catching glimpses of you while you went in and out of the office, in the hallway, during meetings. Since his last confrontation with you he kept his distance at work – not because he was giving up like the entire fucking world wanted him to do, but ‘cause you were still grappling with the loss of your mom and he didn’t want to make things more difficult for you. So yeah, he stayed away during the day - but at night, no, he couldn’t do that.

He rented an apartment in one of the buildings in your neighbourhood, facing your new place, and set up the perfect spot to see into your living room and bedroom, and for the past few nights he watched you to his heart’s content. Davina came over one evening and the two of you hung out, drinking and talking. You looked happy, which made him smile. The next night all you did was work and drink by yourself, and he worried about you pushing yourself too hard.

Tonight he planned to do the same again but Frankie and Curtis insisted on hanging out so he spent most of the evening with them. Things were still strained between him and Curtis after their last argument but they’d avoided the subject of you and mostly talked about other shit.

It was almost ten when he came back to the apartment. He was grabbing a beer from the fridge before resuming his position at the window when cold dread struck in the pit of his stomach. The same instinct that had saved his life many times over when he was out in the field, warning him that he was in danger. Forgetting the beer, he quickly went to the window and grabbed the binoculars to check on you.

You were dressed in some asshole’s shirt, your legs bare, flashing a contented smile that Billy knew all too well. The same smile you wore when you were happy. Sated. When you’d just been fucked out of your mind. And then he saw the fucking lawyer, naked and grinning, putting his arms around you – you – and you turned around to kiss him.

He thought he knew pain, thought he understood the full depravity of violence and what it could do to someone’s mind, their body, how it could break them piece by piece. He’d been tortured before, he’d also been one to torture others, killing out of necessity, out of amusement, because he’d been a soldier following orders but also because it served his own selfish needs. So this, this fucking absolute devastation of his heart should not have felt as terrible as it did, because he knew goddamn well there were worse forms of pain – and yet, this, this was the one that knocked the breath out of his lungs and crushed him mind, body and soul.

You.

You brought his world crashing down.

A/N - Feedback is adored and cherished :) Please leave your thoughts on this post or in my askbox. I always love to hear from you guys!

And if you’re bored or interested in reading Darkling fic written by yours truly, I’ve been reposting the chapters on my Tumblr . Feel free to check it out.

Tag List:

@yourfavoritefruitybitch @voyevoda-thejoy @adreamemporium @queenmalhinewahine @gubleryum @galaxyjane @xceafh@maralisa124@tomhollandisabae @daybleedsintonightfa11 @lil-baby-nor @all-art-is-quite-useless @tanyaherondale @nashibirne @dour-trash @thetallassgirl @athenamikaelson @agent-jbarnes @primadonnasdream @aleksanderwh0r3 @elisemockingbird @nihilismworld @archisur@nemesis729 @lysawayne@kaqua @ladyblablabla @lemasonda@advictedtohim @24-martie @tarkanelima-blog @shinebrightlikeafanbase @krystal-clear1 @damalseer@dontjinx-it@darkishx @wanderlusting-about-life @thatguppienamedbae @happypepperdog @bat-revival @sassygirl25 @consulting–heroes @the-celestial-kitsune @mackaywhore @ablxssm @competitive-dust @red-head011 @exo-1204 @sunsetenigma @millieb-3199 @chatnain @licensedcheek @tinkertailor1212 @vertesalope @safetyhtom @acourtofglassandroses @eliwinchester-barnes @finnismyoriginalsin @weallhaveadestiny @beananacake @beauty-and-the-beast97 @smurfelle @fire-treasure-iii @charly-0 @kestrafagnor @pigwidgeonxo @damagelove @allegra-writes @pensandthings @jad3djay @batshitbarnes @kashimayuki @secretsthathauntus @odetostep @awesome-eccia @mackaywhore @stories-you-wont-hear @vvsdiamond28 @supernaturalcat7 @arieltwvdtohamflash @iknownoqueenbutthequeeninme    @devs-stufff @ticosas @moodacheeks @myakai13 @carlywhomever @fvckthisbxtchup @its-evita-here @papapapadumb @talesfrommycell @bat-luna-cat @fific7 @elluvians @dailydoseofchoices @everythinghappens-love @papapapadumb @mylife-love-and-other-things @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @ancientbeing10 @natty2245 @stuckysavedmylive @kasslucilfer @simp-for-ben-barners @originaldeputycalzoneegg @bdffkierenwalker @kimoranelson03 @sadbi-hours @haushinka27  @haushinka27    @caylaxwrites   @extraneousred   @agentmstark   @crazywitchkitty   @its-an-idea-not-a-blog  @partypoison00    @fictional-hooman   @hoglady   @helnicks    @luckyfreakfishpeach   @chiquitita18   @rachlovesactors  @icecream50055  @doloreschanal   @lupinsfavslytherin    @swthxrry    @wanderlusting-about-life   @dreamer7black  @leahnicole1219 @superawesomegeek @weallhaveadestiny   @toxicenough @tiiffanym  @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @cap-just-said-language  @edithsvoice   @natashasilverfox   @ohsorandomlyme @lupoliatova  @alltheloztboys  @bl0ckedurl @nothingbettertosay81 @antideppresants @clarissahunter  @profoundme444 @shazianazir05  @zos-things @my-day6  @thelightinmyshadows  @lincerad  @ramadiiiisme  @blanchedelioncourt  @wondergal2001  @aunicornmademedoit @sarcasm-n-insomnia   @outlawadvocate  @loki-yoursaviourishere@littlebobree  @daybleedsintonightfa11  @fire-treasure-iii  @binooo98  @ilsalicechepiangeva  @lilypad-55449  @arimistery @evanscavillstan  @theblogofb  @iamgettingalife  @eginv-blog  @profoundme444 @derangedcupcake  @ just-a-harmless-patato @simp-for-ben-barners  @itzzzzcookie

[herofics]

Hello! Can I request a comfort scenario for kirishima (as a student) with a s/o that has been taking antidepressants for the first time in her life and is struggling with dealing with the side effects (feeling anxious/jittery, urge to SH, brain fog, drowsiness, stuff like that). Sometimes things feels worse than they did before going on meds, and s/o is scared the meds will turn her into a whole different person.

Only if you're comfortable with that ofc! Thank you!

I’ve been on antidepressants for so long, I don’t even remember how I felt when I started them. My psychiatrist changed my antidepressants in December of 2021, but since I’ve never had any bad side effects from them, I didn’t really have any of this. I tried to write this how you described and I’m sorry this took so long to do

You were spacing out for like the third time in class that day. Kirishima had of course been glancing at you occasionally, and he’d noticed you didn’t really look like you were paying attention.

“Hey (Name)” he whispered and poked your shoulder.

“Hmmm?” you snapped out of it and looked at him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine” you shrugged.

“Okay…” Kirishima said, but you could hear the doubt in his voice.

He knew you weren’t as okay as you were trying to assure him, he was pretty sure because it was of that new medication you started taking, but he couldn’t be sure.

After the school day was over and you had returned to the dorms, you sort of just shut yourself in your room. Kirishima had noticed you had been doing that quite a lot lately. You hadn’t really been shutting him out, but you weren’t really interacting much with anyone else, and you seemed to be having a bit of a hard time in general.

Kirishima went to change out of his school uniform and into some more comfortable clothes, before going to knock on your door. He was getting worried about your state of mind as of late, you seemed to be spacing out quite a lot and you just seemed like you were in a fog.

He knocked and waited for you to let him in.

“Who is it?” came your voice from inside the room.

“It’s me” Kirishima answered.

You came to open the door and let him in. You sat on your bed and Kirishima sat on a chair opposite of you.

“How you feeling?”

“I’m okay… I guess” you sighed.

“Are you sure these meds are good for you? You’ve been pretty out of it lately, and what we talked about last night…” he trailed off.

“You mean the self-harm urges and the constant drowsiness and anxiety? Yeah, I don’t really enjoy those” you scoffed.

“I know you don’t, but I’m sure it’s not gonna be like that all the time” he smiled, trying to cheer you up.

“But what if it is? What if taking these meds is going to keep me in this state? I don’t even feel like myself right now, I feel like a different person and I don’t like it” you grumbled.

“It’s just the meds babe. You’re the same person you’ve always been, you might feel different, but you’re the same person that beat me at mario cart like a million times in a row, the person who’s kind and warm to everyone, because they don’t want anyone to feel the way they do. You’re the person I love” he said and grabbed your hand.

“Am I though? What if this doesn’t pass? What if I’m gonna be in a fog for as long as I take these meds. I know these pills aren’t a miracle cure, but I also know something like this can really help me if it just didn’t have these shitty side effects” you grabbed the bottle of pills and rattled it, before throwing it at your pillow.

“Hey, I know you’re frustrated, but it’s gonna be fine, I’m sure of that” he squeezed your hand.

You sighed, but you had to admit, you liked his optimism. You were having a hard time with seeing the bright side of pretty much anything right now, but it helped that he was able to.

“Thank you, Eiji” you said and raised his hand to your lips, kissing his knuckles.

“No problem” he smiled widely.

[absolutelyfizzing]

He can't hurt you anymore

Bucky x reader

Description - Reader is the barista that Bucky has befriended at his local coffee shop but he thinks you may be hiding something. Your boyfriend might not be as kind as he tries to come off as. One day Bucky investigates and intervenes. Takes place around TFATWS but the shield isn't a factor. After the events of Endgame. Its pretty platonic Buck x Reader but it's sort of implied that future romance is probably a thing.

Warnings - TW DOMESTIC ABUSE!!! This is a big part of the story, if this is triggering for you, DO NOT READ THIS!! If you are in a situation where you need help getting out of an abusing household please get help. also endgame spoilers! Theres some cussing as well and female pronouns are used.

Word count - 4700 ish?

A/N - I am writing this from how an abusive relationship was for ME, how I acted, and the ways that I felt. This is in no way a generalization of how these situations are for most people nor is it a romanticization of abuse. Please reach out to someone or even me if you need help or you want to talk about anything. Do not read this story if you will be harmed by reading this, PLEASE.

MASTERLIST

Bucky's favorite part of his day was when he went to get coffee from the small shop down the street from his apartment. He didn't have many places he liked to go outside of the small room that he often felt trapped him but he knew that it was good for him to get out and interact with people. His therapist had told him as much.

He really didn't even like the coffee that much, he found that it made him jittery, but he went just to say hi to you. He always got the same order and usually got there around the same time so sometimes you would even have his coffee ready just as he was walking in. When you did things like that it made his heart flutter. He liked you in a romantic way but you only ever lightly flirted. Not wanting to scare you away, he never pressed and he kept his conversation moderately friendly. He had noticed that sometimes you seemed off. More so than he would say might be caused by a bad day.

On these days your eyes would be flying around the room and your hands shaky. You normally had bags under your eyes and you might even have bruises around your body. He also noticed that on those days you would cover up more but he could catch a glimpse of a purple bruise on your arm under your sleeve when you moved.

As he walked into the shop, he saw that today would be one of those days. He had been going to the coffee shop that you were at for probably 6 months and he had never seen you this shaken up. You seemed to be fully zoned out as you automatically did the cleaning in front of you. He had to clear his throat a bit to get you to notice him and when he did he regretted it. You flinched and your shoulders tensed before looking over to him. You relaxed a bit and a wide smile appeared on your face. He could vaguely tell it seemed to be fake but it was one of the best fake smiles he had ever seen. He almost commented on it before he noticed the bruises on your neck and arm.

"You okay?" He questioned, eyebrow quirked and his tone lightly teasing. He guessed they might be from whoever you were sleeping with having been a bit rough, something that he wouldn't have judged you for anyway. When you tensed up a bit and drew your hand to your neck he saw the look of slight fear cross your eyes.

"Oh I'm fine!" You recovered, "Didn't have time to cover them up this morning." You smiled and put your arm back down. It looked like you were going with his guess that they were from your boyfriend but in a non threatening way. His smile lessened a bit and he got out his wallet.

"Well, you know the drill. Medium americano with cream and sugar please." He sighed and he put some money in your tip jar while winking at you. You blushed and nodded before turning around to get started on his order.

While you were turned around he heard the bell on the door ring signaling that someone had entered. He turned to see who it was only to be met with an unfamiliar face. This was a bit of a rare occurrence considering he came here so often and he knew almost all of the other people who walked in. This man was large and domineering. He didn't look abnormal in any way, just that his eyes didn't hold the kindness that Bucky searched for when meeting someone new. The man pushed past Bucky to stand at the counter and knocked on it loudly, trying to get your attention. When you turned, you looked like you saw a ghost.

James studied you carefully as the color slowly came back to your face and the large smile that didn't quite seem right was plastered on your face again.

"Hey, babe! Can I get you something?" you asked him kindly and James realized that this must be your boyfriend. He noticed the slight waver that was in your voice as you spoke to to man and the way that your hands began to shake a bit.

"No thanks, I just wanted to check on you to see how you were doing and to apologize again. I was just heading in to work." Your boyfriend smiled and you flinched for a moment before taking a deep breath, bracing yourself.

"No worries, I already told you I forgave you." You grinned, this one looking more like it reached your eyes. "Have a good day at work!" You chirped at him. His hand came to your cheek and James saw you flinch before the man leaned in to kiss you. As soon as he pulled away and left, you turned back to the drink you were making for Buck and your hands were unsteady.

"Are you alright, Y/N?" He tentatively asked. He didn't want to push but he had a bad feeling stuck in his stomach.

You turned to him, ready drink in hand, "I'm doing great, thank you for asking, James" You smiled and Bucky nearly swooned when you used his name. He adjusted his glove a bit and fidgeted with the sleeve on his metal arm, a habit he had when he was anxious.

"Do you mind if I drink it up here? I'd love to chat a bit." He did this pretty often. There was a seat next to the counter for employees that he would occupy on days where the shop wasn't too busy. You gazed at him and nodded enthusiastically.

"How are you now that you're all settled into the new place?" You asked gently and he smiled. He appreciated that you remembered details about him. It made him feel less crazy for having known so much about you.

"It's good! The bed still doesn't feel right and there are still boxes lying around but I cant seem to get myself to unpack all the way. If I didn't have this part of my day then I think I'd be bored out of my mind" He said. You blushed a bit and smiled. You always liked hearing about how he was doing, you worried about him. He had told you at some point that he was a veteran and that he had some issues adapting to his new life. You didn't bring it up often so as to not scare him off but you liked to check in when you could.

"You might want to start looking for something else to occupy your time then, I don't know how much longer I'm going to be here." You mumbled. You were still smiling a bit but your gaze had saddened.

"What do you mean? Are you leaving the city? Heading back home?" he questioned quickly. You had told him that you weren't originally from New York. You chuckled a bit at his panic.

"No, but might be moving in with my boyfriend, that guy who came in earlier." You explained but he still had a confused look on his face.

"Why does that mean you wont be working here?"

"Oh I don't know, he is trying to get me to quit while I'm figuring out life and stuff. Thinks I might be more helpful around the house and he has enough to support us both." you tried to explain but you knew the logic in your statement was flawed. The reality was that your boyfriend wanted you to be financially dependent on him but you were ignoring that as the bruises around your throat reminded you what happened to girlfriends who talked back. You looked into Bucky's eyes to find him staring sadly.

"You should be able to keep working if you want to."  He sounded urgent and you laughed it off.

"You're just mad cause you won have an excuse to see your favorite barista anymore." As you turned back to the cleaning around the shop to do. It was a quiet morning so the silence was slightly deafening. You both didn't speak for a couple minutes before James broke the silence.

"Are you okay, Y/N?" he asked very lightly. Like he didn't want to scare you off. "I'm guessing your boyfriend left those marks and earlier when he came in-"

"It was an accident" You stated quickly. Urgently. Pleadingly. You still weren't looking at him but you had stopped cleaning. "He didn't mean to, he felt bad about it." You continued before turning to James. There were tears in your eyes and you tried to smile reassuringly.

"Those kinds of accidents shouldn't happen, Y/N" He muttered, trying not to make you feel attacked at all but also wanting to let you know that he knew something was wrong.

"It was my fault." You began.

"There is no way-"

"No it was. I messed something up and-and it was on me. James, you don't need to worry about me." Your voice was shaking a bit. "Please, don't worry about me." you were pleading. Your eyes were begging.

You both stood in silence for a moment before you began moving around. You didn't really have a task to be doing but you couldn't be still. You just couldn't be still.

"I am worried" he whispered and you felt the tears in your eyes threaten to fall. You knew you situation wasn't good but you didn't feel like there was anything you could do. And you were partially still convinced that your boyfriend didn't mean it, even though past experiences had already proved you wrong. You knew that after the 5th time, it wasn't accidental. But fear and guilt held you back. You were not an aggressive person. When he yelled at you he made you feel weak. You crumbled. You would never be able to escape.

You went through the rest of your shift in moderate silence. You worked when customers came in and when they left you would try to make yourself seem busy around the shop. James sat patiently, you knew he was gong to want to walk you back to your boyfriend's apartment. Your stomach clenched as you prayed that your boyfriend wouldn't be home.

After your shift you agreed to let James walk you home, you only lived a few blocks away. You didn't talk much and you felt guilty for creating that atmosphere. When you reached your building you stopped and turned to him.

"Thank you for walking me home." You smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow?" You asked and Bucky nodded.

When you turned to head into you building, he didn't leave. He waited. He knew something was wrong but he didn't want to create a mess for you if he didn't need to. He stood against the building before walking in behind someone who was entering. He made his way to the address he had caught on your key earlier and stopped about 3 floors down from yours. He wouldn't intervene unless you needed him and he could listen in from further away. One of the few times he was thankful for the super serum.

"Where have you been?" a growl sounded.

"I was just-"

"Your shift ended 30 minutes ago. Were you talking to that leather wearing asshole? Huh?" There was a yell. "Were you cheating on me, you bitch?!"

"No, babe, Bucky just walked me home, he was just being nice. The person taking over my shift was just a little-"

"He walked you home?" He screamed, "You're just whoring yourself out to anyone now, huh?"

At this point Bucky had heard enough but he noticed that the stairs were closed and the elevator was taking forever. He was hitting himself for not going up to your floor to be more prepared. His heart was pounding and he could feel his eyes watering.

"Babe, I'm sorry, he didn't mean anything by it, I promise-"

He heard a yelp and something making impact and he decided he was done waiting. He didn't know why the stairs were closed but it didn't matter. He broke the door to the stairwell open and he sprinted up them as fast as possible. It was easier to hear your whimpers as he got closer and he could still hear hitting.

When he made it to the door he didn't hesitate to break it in. When he entered the apartment he felt eyes on him. In the corner of your living room you were hunched in a corner, breathing heavily with tears streaming down your face and a fresh broken lip, your boyfriend leering over you with his fist clenched.

"Get the fuck away from her." Bucky felt himself growl. He didn't want to hurt this guy in front of you, knowing that would traumatize you more, but it was taking everything in him not to snap his neck right then.

"What the fuck are you gonna do?" Your boyfriend sneered, "You have no right to come in here and tell be how I'm supposed to deal with my girlfriend. Get the fuck out!" Your boyfriend had moved away from you and you took a bit of a breath. Bucky noticed the shaking of your body as you breathed and he saw red.

Before he really considered what he was doing Bucky was already moving toward the man in the middle of the room, his metal hand clenched. He moved to grab your boyfriend's arm and when he tried to block, going into the fight cocky, Bucky decided he would put him in his place. With what seemed to be minimal effort, Bucky turned the mans arm around and jammed his knee into his back. Once your boyfriend was on the floor, in less than 10 seconds, Bucky had his knee on his chest and his metal arm on his neck.

"You will never lay another finger on her again, you understand me? You're gonna go to fucking prison and you'll never be able to get near her again." Bucky growled at the man who was struggling futilely beneath him. He pressed on his neck harder and waited for his body to give out, holding long enough that he would be knocked out for at least a few minutes so he could get you out of there.

Bucky looked up at you and you were still shaking in the corner, seemingly still terrified. You looked so different from the girl he had come to know. Bucky realized that he might have just made you more scared of him but he knew it was worth it to get you out of the situation. You gulped and took a deep shaky breath before moving to stand up. Bucky moved to stand also to go over and help you but you immediately say back down.

"Hey, doll. I'm not gonna hurt you-" Bucky started but you cut him off.

"I know, I know I just..." You took another shallow breath and looked at the man Bucky was no longer holding down. He could get free and move toward you now if he were to wake up. Bucky understood your gaze sighed a bit, looking around the apartment he now realized probably belonged to your boyfriend. He then noticed the belt on your boyfriend and moved to take it off so he could tie him up with it. He heard you whimper and he made a guess as to why, his heart clenching once again. He quickly bound the large man's hands and attached him to a support beam in the middle of the room. He checked the bindings using larger movements than he needed to so that you would see they were tight from your spot across the room. Bucky then stood and slowly made his way near you. Instead of trying to get very close, he opted to sit against the wall about halfway between you and the man tied up in the room, trying to make sure that you didn't feel threatened by him and that you knew your boyfriend was no longer a threat.

"I'm gonna call a friend okay? You're okay now." Buck said gently to you and you nodded. Your eyes were watery as tears began to fall and you scooted a little closer to Bucky, still not sitting close enough to touch. Bucky made no move to push you.  He instead just dialed the only person he could think of.

"Hey, Sam... You in town?.. I know but I need some help. I need the police here and if you could drive too that would be great. I got someone here I don't want going in a cop car... I know that's a lot to ask but I wouldn't be asking if it weren't serious... Please?.. That would be great if she's there." It seemed that the 'please' made the person on the other line agree. Bucky hung up and looked toward you. "Someone's on the way, okay? Do you need anything right now or need any medical help thats urgent?"He tried to be gentle but he couldn't hide the fear in his voice. If there was severe damage somewhere he needed to know now.

"N-no, it wasn't that bad. It's just my face and my ribs I guess but I've healed from worse." You mumbled, trying to be reassuring but then realizing that you may have made him feel worse. "I'm sorry" You mumbled as the tears began again.

"Whoa, what on earth are you sorry for?" Bucky asked as he felt his own eyes begin to water.

"Its just that-" you took a breath for a moment and tried to calm your shaking, "this isn't your job and I'm sorry that you have to deal with it and that I couldn't do it on my own." You cried a bit, Bucky barely being able to make out your words with how quietly you were speaking. He wasn't entirely sure how to help. He experimentally slid a hand along the floor toward you going very slowly so you could move or tell him to stop if you wanted. Instead you moved your hand and reached out so your fingers were touching on the floor. You still didn't move closer to him but the nonthreatening contact made you feel a bit better. He spoke up quietly.

"Y/N, I know this has been a really hard day for you and probably been rough for however long you've been with that asshole but you need to understand that this is not your fault. You did not make him do this to you and you did not deserve it. You will never be in a room alone with him again, okay?" He made decisive eye contact with you and you nodded a bit. "I am going to make sure that nothing happens to you now, I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you again." He sounded reassuring and you scooted just close enough that his hand was holding yours. He smiled lightly at you and you jumped as you heard a knock at the doorframe of the entrance where the door had been practically broken off its hinges.

You tensed up immediately and Bucky stood a bit protectively in front of you, letting go of your hand in the process. You saw a tall kind looking man at the doorway, his frame slightly hunched to make sure that he didn't startle you too much. You looked at him a bit fearfully and took a deep breath before glancing at Bucky and then smiling lightly at the man in the doorway. He watched you carefully as he stepped into the apartment.

"Hey there, my name is Sam, I'm just gonna get him out of here. There's a police car with his name on it downstairs. I brought someone with me who's going to help get you out of here to somewhere safe, okay?" He smiled at you as he moved toward the man tied up in the center of the room. As the bindings came off you skittered back toward the corner a bit and only eased once he was dragged out of the room. From the doorway came a redhead with bags under her eyes. She looked like she hadn't gotten good sleep in a while and you felt like you recognized her from somewhere.

"I'm Pepper, is it okay if I come in?" She looked nice and she had a motherly presence. You nodded and smiled a bit. Her gaze softened further and she walked slowly toward you and as she walked past Bucky she touched his arm lightly, conveying something that you didn't quite understand. "Can I help you up?" she asked as she stood in front of you, her hand reached out. You nodded and put your hand in hers, allowing her to pull you up. You felt the damage that had been done more clearly when you stood up, there was definitely something wrong with your ribs and your stomach. She carefully and slowly put an arm around your shoulders as she herded you out of the apartment. you looked back to where Bucky was standing and he smiled at you reassuringly but his eyes seemed sad. You let yourself be led to a car outside with a man that Pepper called "Happy" driving. She sat in the back with you and made casual one sided conversation to put you at ease.

Back at your apartment Bucky began to try to pack you a bag. He knew that Pepper would take good care of you and wouldn't let anything happen. He would meet you at the Avengers tower later, assuming you would be staying there until you felt comfortable living by yourself at your own apartment again. He moved through your ex's apartment with a critical gaze, noting holes in the wall and a gun in the corner. He presumed it was to protect against home intruders but he didn't doubt that it had been used to threaten you too. He found the bedroom and got to work getting some things that he thought you might want like a hoodie that looked like yours and some personal belongings that were clearly your possessions. He was trying very hard not to accidentally grab something that was your ex's and once he had a full bag he headed out. He saw Sam leaned against the wall outside your building and Bucky immediately got worried.

"Wheres-"

"He's already booked at the precinct, I've got my guys on it and he isn't going anywhere." Sam reassured, having known what Bucky was going to ask. They began walking to the tower, not wanting to get in a car and knowing that the walk wasn't going to be too long.

"Sorry I had to call you, I know you were probably busy. I just didn't know who else to ask." Bucky stated quietly.

"You did the right thing, Buck. You probably saved that girl's life back there." Sam smiled a bit at the man next to him and Bucky felt a smile tug at his mouth too.

They both made light conversation as they made their way back to the tower. When they did, Bucky took a deep breath. He hadn't been back here since right after Steve left. He hadn't seen Pepper in a long time either. He needed to talk to her when he got inside to thank her and to see if she was okay. He knew she probably didn't want to see him very much but she had still helped you when he asked.

Back at the tower you were finally cleared from the medical wing. You were still shaky but you were masking it pretty well and you were about back to where you functioned daily where you could fake smiles if you needed to. Pepper stayed by you the whole time and you met a little girl named Morgan who was very excited to tell you stories that put you at ease. Eventually Pepper led you to a room that she said you could use to sleep and shower in for now and that you could call the AI if you needed anything at all. You asked it to tell you when Bucky got back and it said it would. You also now knew that you recognized her as Iron Man's wife but you didn't mention it, knowing she had lost her husband semi-recently. You also recognized that Sam, who you had met earlier, was the Falcon. Then came the question of who was Bucky. You knew there was a James Barnes associated with the Avengers but you'd never seen him and you knew he had a metal arm, something that you weren't sure was  part of Bucky. You showered and cried again in the shower but this time out of relief. You realized that you didn't have to go home to that awful man and that you were finally safe.

The AI, you thought you'd heard Pepper call it FRIDAY, let you know that Bucky was in the building along with Sam. You dressed in the clothes that pepper had given to you, a pair of sweats and a loose T-shirt, and left your room. You carefully padded down the hallway, prepared to ask FRIDAY where you were if you got lost. Instead you saw Bucky down a hallway carrying a bag that you recognized as your own. Now that you were a bit calmed down you knew what you had to do. You got closer to each other, Bucky smiling slightly, and he stopped so that he wouldn't get close to you if you didn't want him to. Instead you continued walking toward him until you got close enough that you could wrap your arms tightly around his waist. He stood in shock before dropping the bag and wrapping one of his arms around you tightly. You reached out to the other one and felt the hardness of it. You guessed then that he must be the winter soldier that you'd heard about but you continued to wrap it around yourself so that he was hugging you all the way. You took a deep breath and smiled slightly.

"Thank you, James." You murmured and you heard his heart pick up its pace. He tightened his arms around you and sighed.

"You’re welcome, doll" he accepted the thanks with a bit of apprehension but this wasn't the time to argue about whether or not thanks were needed. "I promise I'm not going to let anything happen to you again." He stated quietly and he was reassuring himself more than you. Your arms tightened around him more and he decided that he would protect you with all he had if you would let him.

[inkandpen22]

Unlikely Allies (1/?)

Pairing: Peter Pevensie x Female!Reader 

Warnings: none 

Word Count: 2k

Part Summary: Y/N is the Telemarine Princess. She’s devoted to her family, including her uncle Miraz, who’s keeping many secrets from her. When her aunt gives birth to her cousin, her brother runs away, leaving Y/N lost... 

Masterlist

Y/N

"Princess Y/N?" A faint voice appears in my dream. "Princess!" 

I wake up yawning and stretching out my limbs. I whine, what time is it? "Yes, what is it?" I grumble, rolling onto my side. 

"Your Royal Highness," the servant greets as they enter my room and I assume they bow. "It's your aunt, she's given birth!" 

I fly up from my laid position and immediately climb out of bed. "Take me there at once!" 

My maid rushes me to my aunt and uncle's bed-chamber. It's the early hours of the morning, but I don't care! A cousin! Finally! People travel in and out of the room as I turn the corner. Lord Glozelle stands outside the door, guarding it. 

He bows his head as I pass, "Your Royal Highness." 

I enter the chaotic room, utterly gleaming. A circle of people surrounds the bed, chatter high. 

"Auntie?" I make myself known. 

The crowd parts, allowing me a path. My aunt lays in her bed, holding my baby cousin. My uncle is beside her, smiling ear to ear as he stares down at the baby. 

My aunt looks up at me with a bright smile and waves me over. "Y/N! Come!" 

I hurry over to her side, settling down on the edge of their bed. The little boy is wrapped securely in a gray blanket. 

"Your cousin, a boy!" My uncle tells me, overjoyed. 

My aunt extends her arms out to me, handing me the child. He's utterly precious. The true Telemarine black hair is already on his tiny head. 

"Hello! You're so handsome!" I greet him, allowing his small hand to wrap around my finger. 

"Y/N, your aunt and I were talking," Uncle begins, glancing between me and his wife. "We would like you to be the Godmother." 

My eyes grow wide. "Truly?" 

"It would be our pleasure," Auntie giggles, placing her hand over mine. 

"I would be honored!" I laugh breathlessly. "Thank you, Uncle! Auntie!" 

Suddenly, fireworks erupt outside, signaling the start of the celebration. "A son! A son! Lady Prunaprismia has given Lord Miraz a son!" One of the guards announces from the tower to the village. 

"My Lord!" Lord Glozelle barges in frantically. He notices me and bows swiftly. "Your Royal Highness!" 

My uncle sighs, a tad annoyed by the interruption. "Yes, Lord Glozelle?" 

"It's Prince Caspian, he's gone!" 

"What!" I panic and hand the baby back to my aunt before I rise off the bed. "What do you mean gone?" 

"It'll be okay, Y/N. We'll find him," Uncle Miraz tries to assure me calmly as he stands.  

"Where is he?" I question the Lord. 

"My men say they saw him ride into the forest," Lord Glozelle informs. 

"What! No! He'll die!" I rush out. "There are Narnians!" 

"Those are mere superstitions, your tutor has plagued your mind!" My uncle laughs. "Narnians are extinct. Come Lord Glozelle, we'll begin the search immediately." My uncle stops at me, before departing. He brings his hand to my cheek gently with a comforting smile. "All will be well, Princess."

I nod, praying he's right. 

Satisfied, he departs with his men, the room shrinking in population.  I turn my attention to the balcony and the full moon. "Caspian..." I whisper my brother's name, praying he's alright and safe. 

________________________________________

 A few days later... 

I ride toward the soldiers gathered by the river's side. I take notice of their wagons... they're empty, how odd. I dismount my horse and spot my uncle. 

"Uncle!" I call over, gaining his attention. 

I hurry over to him, Lord Gozelle, and the other members of Lord's council. They appear to be in a rather heated argument. 

"Is everything alright?" I question worriedly. "I was on a ride when your men told me to return to the palace." 

My uncle forces a convincing smile as he ushers me away from the men privately. "Yes, My Dear, I'm sorry to have frightened you." 

"You're not telling me something," I accuse knowingly. "Is it Caspian?" 

Caspian

Peter, Susan, and Trumpkin hide behind a pile of lumber, watching as my uncle and his men discover the mess we've left.  

"I say we shoot now," Trumpkin suggests. 

Susan preps her bow and arrow. That's when I see her, Y/N... my sister. 

"Wait!" I place my hand over Susan's arrow.  

"What is it?" She asks. 

Miraz ushers her away, his hand pressed to her back. Something's wrong. 

"My sister..." I mumble. 

"You have a sister?" Peter questions. 

"Y/N..." I whisper her name in a daze as I watch her. "She's speaking with my uncle." 

Out of my peripheral, I see Peter searching for her. I can tell when he does because his features shift from confusion to astonishment. 

Y/N

"Return to your ride. Everything is okay, promise!" Uncle Miraz guarantees. "My one request is that you stay out of the forest. Go straight to the palace." 

"It's Narnians, isn't it?" I interrogate enthusiastically as he escorts me to my horse. It would be the only reason the guard has been so jittery and anxious. "They do exist! Oh, I knew it!" 

"You and your fairytales," he laughs, helping up onto the saddle. "Be on your way, My Dear. I'll return shortly." 

"Alright, I'll go tend to your baby for you," I tease him, sending him a wink. 

Miraz

As I watch Y/N ride off down the path toward the castle as I asked, Lord Gozelle appears beside me. 

"You should tell her," he advises. 

"That her brother is a traitor and has brought back our greatest enemy" I shake my head, turning over my shoulder to join the Lords again. "No, it'll destroy her." 

"Why do you care for Y/N, but Caspian is dispensable?" 

"Y/N would never betray me," I state with utmost certainty. Then, I snicker. "Besides, she's a young lady. She can't take my throne." 

Y/N

I ride along the path that lines the forest. The trees blur as my horse gallops swiftly back to the castle. My mind is wandering with curiosity. Miraz tells me that there's nothing to be worried about, but I can't help and question whether this is true. Abruptly, a cloaked figure appears on the path, blocking my way. My horse becomes startled and I'm bucked off, hitting the dirt with a thud. The wind is knocked out of me and I struggle to catch my breath. The cloaked figure hurries over and grabs me, dragging me off the dirt path. 

"Get off of me!" I scream, thrashing about. "I am Her Royal Highness Princess Y/N! I will-" Then, the figure removes their hood and my eyes recognize my brother. "Caspian..." I whisper in disbelief. 

"Hello Y/N," he grins. 

"You're alive!" I fly up from my position, wrapping my arms around him frantically. Then, I fully process the news and pull back. "Wait until Miraz hears! He's been so worried!" 

"No, no!" He rushes out. "You mustn't tell him you've seen me! Y/N, he's behind all of this..." 

"What? No, no, that's impossible. He-" 

"When he learned he had a son, he sent assassins after me! I had to run!" He squeezes my shoulders urgently. "It's all true! Everything Dr. Cornelius taught us, it's all true!" 

My eyes grow wide, it can't be... "You mean about Narnians!" 

"Yes! Aslan, the Kings, and Queens of Old, it's all-" 

"Caspian, you can't just run off!" A male voice interrupts, followed by rushing footsteps. 

"What if Miraz..." A girl begins to shout, but as she, a boy, and a dwarf appear from behind the greenery briskly their eyes land on us. 

The dark-haired girl looks down at me strangely, as if she already hates me despite just meeting me. She seems like a know-it-all. I don't even know her name. The boy, tall and blonde, peers at me with parted lips. Surprise not easily hidden. The dwarf, well, he glares a lot. Two out of three already hate me. Caspian must be telling the truth, these truly are Narnians. 

Caspian glances between the two and myself. "Y/N, this is-" 

"Let me guess, High King Peter," I determine, meeting the boy's gaze. 

He appears more astonished than before if that's possible. What? Just because I'm a Telemarine doesn't mean I don't know the legends of Narnia. 

"You revealed yourself!" The girl huffs. "She's going to run and tell Miraz!" 

"Let me guess, Queen Susan," I remark a bit snarky as I help myself off the ground and brush myself down. "I wouldn't tell." 

"Are we just supposed to take your word for it?" Peter challenges. 

"Miraz may be my uncle, but Caspian is my only brother," I argue. 

"And your loyalty lies with your people, right? Am I wrong?" He presses further. 

"And you're loyal to the Narnians?" I snicker mockingly. "Last I checked you disappeared for over a thousand years." 

"Even the Telemarine Princess agrees with me," the dwarf huffs with a roll of the eyes. 

"At least my family didn't murder millions of innocent creatures," he fires back. 

I reach for the dagger resting on my belt and point it at the boy. "Take that back!" 

Fearless, he steps forward, directly in front of my blade. "Your entire empire is the reason Narnians are almost extinct!" 

"Our father wouldn't have harmed any creature!" I scream. 

Caspian wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. "Y/N, Y/N, calm down!" 

"Enough of this, we have to return to the camp," Peter announces assertively as he begins to march away. "Bring her." 

"No, we're not taking her with us!" Susan shouts. 

"We have to!" Peter argues over his shoulder.  

Caspian presses a hand to my back, leading me in the direction Peter is headed. 

"What? I'm not going!" I challenge. 

"Good!" Susan scoffs. 

"You must," Caspian tells me calmly. "You know of us now." 

"I rather drop dead," I fire back. 

"That can be arranged," Peter grumbles ahead. 

"Shall I send you back to wherever you came from?" I threaten the former High King. 

He turns over his shoulder with a glare. "Anything to be dimensions away from you." 

"Stop it!" Caspian finally breaks, looking back and forth between the two of us. "Please..." 

"Miraz will send the Lords after me! It's in your best interest to let me go!" I reason with them. 

"Perhaps she's right," Susan uncharacteristically agrees with me. "Caspian, we can see her another time. For now, we have to be smart." 

Caspian's clearly torn, an internal battle ensuing in his mind. "What if Miraz finds out we've been together. He may retaliate against you." 

I frown, "Miraz would never... he cares about me." 

"I'll formulate a plan," Peter interjects, causing my brother and me to look at him. "A few men and I will sneak into the castle in two days time. We'll stage it like a kidnapping to avoid any hostility toward Y/N from your uncle." 

"That gives me two days to prepare and learn what I can about what Uncle is planning," I try to convince Caspian. 

"Very well, but be careful until then," he practically begs, bringing me into a hug. 

"Goodbye Caspian," I mumble against his chest as I part from him. This is harder than I had expected. "Now go! Before any guards ride by!" 

He nods and begins to back away. "I'll come back for you!" 

Susan and Caspian run off in the opposite direction with Trumpkin. Peter lingers behind for a second, walking backward to follow them. "I'll send messages to you until it's time," he informs me. "Be ready!" 

I nod, feeling sick to my stomach at the thought of what will happen in two nights. "Yes, alright," I manage to say with my voice shaking. 

He nods, satisfied with my response, before jogging off to join his sister and friends. I stand in the woods, alone, utterly dazed and confused. One minute I'm riding home, the next I'm reunited with my brother and learn that Narnians are alive. On top of that, everything about my life that's been concrete, such as my home in the castle and my love of my aunt and uncle are being taken away. My brother or my people? That's the question and I only have two days to figure out an answer. 

_____________________________________

Masterlist

Tags:  @i-hav-no-life @hellomyweirdos @candyheartsandcigarettes @gillybear17 @hauntedphotographybookstaco

[worminstuff]

Maybe all of their reactions to one of their student's having an anxiety attack possibly because they're falling behind on work and panicking or their class gets too loud. I was wondering as well if i could be Cloud Anon? (If you do name Anons that is)

|| I don’t think I can do all of them because that was genuinely take so long, (the short blurb one was almost 4K words) so I’m gonna do a few, I hope that’s okay. And I do do name anons but it’s been a really long time since anons sent anons like that, but I do! I don’t remember all of the ones there are but, ill try to make a post or something ||

Mr.Blade, Mr.wastaken, and Mr.Jacbobs helping student!reader with panic attacks!

Warnings: panic attacks, anxiety

Word count: I dunno

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Mr.Wastaken

Mr.Wastaken sits in his class for about an hour after school ends so if anyone needs extra help they can come sit with him and he’ll do homework with them. Even when it’s not math work too.

Today he was sitting with y/n, one of his students in his third period class.

The cringe worthy noise of Mr.Wastakens chair sliding towards the desk y/n was at made them close their eyes.

“I know ,I’m sorry, should’ve just picked it up and moved it.” He offered them a smile, expecting the sweet smile that y/n usually would return but they didn’t smile.

Dream paused. That’s strange. He thought, but he didn’t bring it up.

“So we’re working on some quiz corrections right?” He asked, they nodded, “easy peasy, no big deal. Which ones gave you trouble?”

Y/n explained their trouble with certain ones, their voice quiet and shaky. Y/n hadn’t looked him in the eyes yet, which he noticed. Their eyes were trained on the paper.

Dream started to explain one of the problems they pointed out, drawing a little explaination beside it. He quickly stopped when he heard a small sniffle.

He looked back up at y/n seeing they paced a arm over their eyes. His brows furrowed, he quickly became worried.

“Hey, hey,” he placed a gentle hand on their shoulder, “what’s going on?” He figured it probably wasn’t just the math on the desk in front of them.

Y/n sniffled again before replying, “I just- there’s so much work due and I can’t bring myself to do it cause there’s so- so much and and” their voice was shaky as y/n pulled their arm from their face. Under their eyes were wet, stained from the smooshed tears.

“Oh kiddo..I get that. How about I exempt this grade, actually I’ll just put it at a 100 since we’re moving on to a new unit, and we work on something else maybe?” He offered another smile, this one more comforting. “And we can go steal some snacks from Mr.Dudes room too.”

Y/n nodded, “thank you.” Their voice was still soft but less sad. Dreams heart melted.

“Dont sweat it kiddo, and if it gets like this again, please let me know. I don’t mind hanging out with you after school so we can do this whenever you need. I’ve got your back, kid.”

Dream hated seeing his kiddos upset, he would always do anything for them.

^^^^^^

Mr.Blade

There was a new student in Mr.Blades class. they were new to the whole school too but Mr.Minecraft put Mr.Blade as their home room teacher.

The reason Mr.Minecraft did so, unknowing to Mr.Blade was because this student was super anxious being new, and he thought techno would deal with this well.

Mr.Blade didnt usually have a home room class, it was usually his free period. So this ment y/n and him were alone each morning.

This freaked y/n out because obviously she didn’t know him, and he came off as very...scary.

Mr.Blade didnt realize they found him scary until about a week in to them being in his class.

He noticed multiple things. y/n never looked him in the eyes, they never asked for anything, and they were always jittery. This particular morning, it seemed ten times worse.

“Are you okay there?” he tried to soften his tone, he really didn’t want them to be afraid of him.

Y/n only nodded, but their eyes screwed tight for a moment before looking back to their computer. They’d been staring at it for a while now, silently shaking and ringing their hands.

Mr.Blade was well aware of the wordless lie so he stood from his desk and made his way over. He squatted down and placed his arms on the edge of their desk, resting his head on them.

He waited a moment, thinking they’d close the computer. They didn’t.

slowly, he placed his hand on it and slowly closed it. He waited a bit longer, letting y/n calm down a tad by themself before he said anything.

“What’s going on, kid?” he tried to look into y/n’s eyes but they were closed. “Can you look at me? I’m not angry, i’m not gonna yell or anything.”

Y/n opened their eyes slowly but surely, and Technos hesrt just about shattered.

He didn’t often get soft over his students but the pools of tears in y/ns eyes made even his cold heart ache.

He waited a moment, giving them a moment to breathe and see he wasn’t a threat or anything.

“Stressed.” Y/n said, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah? How come? What’s stressing you out?”

Y/n explained how much they didn’t like being new and having to be caught up in classes was really stressing them out.

Mr.Blade quickly understood, and sympathized.

He helped y/n make a little planner, and even drew little drawings on it to make it more fun. Once they had a planner, both made a plan together so the work load didn’t seem so much.

Afterwords he even called some of y/ns teachers to see if they could accommodate in any way. He even offered to teach the materials to them in their free period, as long as y/n didn’t have to turn them in as assignments or anything.

They agreed of course.

^^^^^^^

Mr.Jacobs

Mr. Jacobs classes were often hectic. That was sorta his nature and the students just followed in his footsteps.

Usually it wasn’t a problem because karl was able to keep it from getting too out of hand, but today everyone seemed a bit to energized to want to listen.

They were working on a map project so they were working and talking with friends and just being sort of wild.

Karl noticed quickly, one of his students y/n, was getting a bit overwhelmed by it.

“Hey, hi, hey, what’s going on?” He stood so his back was facing most of the class, and y/n was in front of him.

Y/n was shaky, and looked visibly nervous.

“S’ just a bit loud.” Y/n said, offering a small smile. y/n was internally screaming. Thought they were good at hiding it, they were moments from snapping and curling into a ball hoping for some quiet so the feeling of impending doom would end.

Karl nodded, he read her like a book and instantly understood.

“Can i give you a hug, kiddo?” He asked, his head tilted in parental like worry. Y/n nodded and he leaned down to give her a quick hug before standing back up to go back to the front of the class.

He gave her two thumbs up. Then whistled loudly, getting everyone’s attention.

“Quiet game! Whoever wins gets forty five dollars. That’s right. Forty buckeroos. “

The class was instantly silent. Y/n’s shoulders relaxed, and she shot karl a thankful smile. He ruturned one similar.

[morganaspendragonss]

hiya. could you write a fic where tk has a panic attack from carlos’s pov? 😘🧡

i can indeed! this is combined with an idea jamie ( @silvarafael ) had and very kindly allowed me to write - i hope you both enjoy! the first section is also based on a vague idea i had after watching the ep.

ao3 | 1.9k | 2.10 spoilers

TK is silent the entire drive home, choosing instead to stare out the window with his jaw firmly clenched, his hands making fists in his lap. The silence extends all the way into the house, right up until the point when he flops down on the couch with a loud, frustrated sigh, burying his head in his hands. 

At this point, Carlos knows not to push when TK is like this; he’ll talk when he wants to, and not a moment before. So he simply walks over, sitting next to him and placing a hand on TK’s back, rubbing gentle circles. TK slowly relaxes under his touch, unfurling his body, and Carlos is all too happy to let him shift into his arms, holding on and pressing kisses on the top of his head.

I’m here, he’s saying - not with words, but he knows the message gets across regardless. It may have only been less than a year since they started dating, but already they don’t always need words to communicate.

“I’m sorry if you were uncomfortable back there,” TK says suddenly. “I know my dad kind of dragged you into it all, and that must have been awkward for you.”

“It wasn’t my favourite interaction with your dad ever,” he admits.

TK snorts. “Understatement,” he mutters, and Carlos laughs, tilting his head in agreement. “I am sorry, though, really,” TK continues. “It was amazing of you to even be there; you didn’t have to be. I’m sure there are hundreds of places you’d rather be than an intervention session for my dad.”

“You mean supporting my boyfriend through something difficult and important?” Carlos corrects gently, shifting to catch TK’s eyes. “Because there’s nowhere I’d rather be than there.”

TK blinks at him, managing to hold his gaze for all of two seconds before he blushes and looks away. He takes Carlos’s hand, tapping restlessly on the back of it - a sure-fire sign he’s still worked up about something, so Carlos leaves him be, waiting for it to come out.

“Is it bad that I’m pissed at him?” TK’s voice is quiet, small, and it’s mirrored in his body language when he turns to Carlos, drawing his legs up and hunching his shoulders. “I’ve spent my entire life trying to connect with him, and it just feels like he’s constantly throwing it all right back in my face. And he’s… He’s such a fucking hypocrite. Ever since my first overdose, he’s been going on and on about how good it is to talk about my feelings and how I shouldn’t keep things bottled up, yet he insists on hiding this shit from me.”

TK laughs, short, sharp, bordering on hysterical. “He didn’t even tell me when he was fucking dying; I had to find that out by myself. And I’ve tried. I haven’t stopped trying.” He deflates, sinking back into Carlos with a defeated sigh. “But there’s only so much I can take, you know? I can’t… I can’t keep doing this, Carlos.”

Carlos’s heart breaks for his boyfriend. He wishes he could take the pain away; as it is, all he can do is hold him, and hope that he has enough words to at least dull the ache somewhat.

“It’s not bad to feel what you feel, TK.”

TK looks up at him, eyes wide. “You don’t think so?”

He shakes his head, kissing him again. “No. I think… I think your dad has treated you pretty unfairly, actually, and you’re well within your rights to be mad at him right now. But, I also think that you said it yourself; there’s only so much you can do. Before you can take care of your dad, you have to take care of yourself, and you can’t do that if you’re worrying over him.”

If TK’s eyes were any wider, it’d be comical. “But -”

“No buts.” Carlos smiles tightly, keeping his tone gentle. “TK, babe, you just led an intervention into your dad’s mental health, which I know was hard for you, yet you did it anyway because you love him. You tried, but if he doesn’t want to engage, then there’s nothing you can do.”

TK is silent for a long time, staring down at his lap. He’s still holding Carlos’s hand in one of his own, but his free hand is rubbing the material of Carlos’s shirt between his fingers; Carlos doubts he’s even fully aware he’s doing it.

“I know that,” he says eventually, voice little more than a whisper. “I do. I just wish he wasn’t so goddamn stubborn all the time.”

Carlos’s lips quirk up in a smile, and he speaks before he can stop himself. “Guess it runs in the family.”

TK stares at him, open-mouthed, and Carlos immediately regrets his words. He’s halfway through an apology when it’s like a dam breaks, and TK breaks out in giggles, his head thumping against Carlos’s chest.

“You’re lucky I love you, Reyes.”

Carlos grins and pulls TK as close to him as physically possible. “I really am.”

*

The call comes early the next morning, waking both of them up. TK grumbles as he smacks his hand against the nightstand in a blind search for his phone; the sight would be adorable if Carlos weren’t so tired himself. After the exhaustion of the past few days, he’d been desperately hoping to have a peaceful morning for once, maybe even - god forbid - to spend some quality time with his boyfriend without the threat of parents or work or sudden emergencies hanging over them. 

Clearly, though, it’s not to be, as TK suddenly sits bolt upright in bed, all traces of sleep gone.

“We’ll be there as soon as we can,” he promises to whoever’s on the other end, before lowering the phone and turning to stare at Carlos, terror obvious in his eyes. 

“TK?” Carlos asks when he doesn’t speak, sitting up and slowly reaching out for him. TK startles at the contact, but quickly leans into it, covering Carlos’s hand with his own.

He swallows once, twice. “Buttercup’s sick,” he whispers. “Dad had to rush him to the vet’s. Carlos, what if… What if…”

He trails off, shaking his head viciously, as though he can erase the thought from his mind. Carlos quickly moves to steady him, stroking his thumbs across his cheekbones to calm him down.

“Let’s get dressed, okay?” he says, knowing reassurances won’t mean a thing right now. “Then we’ll go, and we’ll know more.”

TK just nods, quiet as they go through the motions of getting ready. Carlos makes sure to press an apple into his hand before they head out; he knows it will likely go uneaten, but it’s the only choice he has, given he knows that TK will refuse to stop for breakfast without finding out about Buttercup first.

If the drive back from Owen’s yesterday was silent, today’s is far worse. TK’s hands are constantly moving in Carlos’s periphery, alternating between fiddling with his apple, tugging on his clothes and hair, and rubbing at his face. On the rare occasion he does try to stay still, his hands end up twitching in his lap, followed by a sudden burst of anxious movement before falling back into some semblance of a pattern.

Carlos presses his lips into a firm line, accelerating more than is technically legal; at any other time he’d make a joke about how TK’s turning him into a criminal.

They’re forced to stop at a traffic light, and Carlos curses under his breath, getting jittery himself as the drive extends. He turns to check on TK, then curses again at the sight of his boyfriend’s pale face, his wide eyes and trembling body. TK gasps, then again and again, a hand going to his chest, and Carlos knows what this is. 

A panic attack, but the second he reaches to help, the lights change and he’s forced to keep driving. He keeps one eye on TK the whole time, heart beating faster as he seems to get worse, and he’s thankful when he spots an opportunity to pull over, taking it immediately.

TK stares, shaking his head frantically and gesturing in a motion that Carlos takes to mean keep driving. His mouth opens and closes but he can’t form words, breaths coming short and fast. He folds in on himself when they stop, eyes closed and forehead almost touching his knees as his body heaves and shakes.

Carlos unbuckles himself and shifts as close as he can, placing one hand on TK’s back and taking his hand in the other, rubbing circles on the back of it with his thumb. He’s had to do this a few times over the course of their relationship, shootings and kidnappings and disasters taking their toll on his boyfriend.

But that doesn’t make it any less difficult.

“You’re going to be okay,” Carlos says, pushing his own fears aside. “Just breathe slowly, in and out, that’s it; it’ll be over soon, I promise.”

He keeps it up, murmuring assurances he barely registers himself until the shaking lessens and TK’s breath slowly but surely begins to even out. He straightens in his seat, eyes still closed, and leans his head against the headrest. 

Carlos pulls back, giving him a moment before he asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

TK shakes his head, then immediately changes his mind and nods. Still, it takes him a few seconds to speak. “What if it’s the cancer, Carlos?” he asks, peeling his eyes open, despair written all over his features. “He could - He could die, he could be dying right this second, and I don’t know if I can handle that, not after everything else.”

“I know,” Carlos says. “You just have to remember that we don’t know anything yet, and you have to believe that Buttercup will be fine until we do know more. We’ll take it from there, and if it is the cancer - which, yes, it might be - then we’ll all be around to support each other. Buttercup’s strong, though, I’m sure he’ll fight whatever this is with everything he has. He’ll be fine.”

Carlos smiles, noticing how TK is pretty much hanging onto every word he says. He takes a deep breath, briefly looking away before continuing, “As will your dad.”

TK frowns. “Who said anything about my dad?”

“TK.”

He sighs, hanging his head. “You’re right,” he admits, “this is a little bit about my dad. The longer he puts off this surgery, the more scared I get that the cancer will come back and we won’t get as lucky this time. I know it’s stupid, and I know I should be focused on Buttercup right now, but…”

“But,” Carlos agrees, reaching out and squeezing TK’s hand. “It’s okay, and it’s not stupid at all, I promise you. Let’s just take this one thing at a time, okay? First, we’ll get to the vet’s and find out how Buttercup is, and then we’ll see about having another conversation with your dad - maybe telling him what you’ve told me?”

TK exhales shakily, then nods. “Okay. Okay.”

Carlos gives him a small smile, squeezing his hand once more before shifting back in his seat to keep driving. “I’ll be right by your side,” he can’t help but say. He’s sure TK already knows, but the reminder can’t hurt, especially after what just happened.

TK stays quiet, but Carlos doesn’t miss the mumbled, “I don’t deserve you,” from the passenger seat. 

“Wrong,” he replies, eyes on the road. “You deserve the world.”

And, in his periphery, TK smiles.

[sunsetcurvecuddles]

If you're still doing the prompts you should do the gang (alex, julie, luke, reggie) and (platonic) cuddles!!! (I'm so soft for them and have read every jatp fic tagged platonic cuddles KFKZKDKD)

you know what ask and you shall receive. i wanted to write core4/juke cuddles today so here’s a mindless piece with cuddles and nothing else.

sit tight like bookends // 1.5k words // ao3 link in reblogs!

--

Luke’s kind of having a terrible day.

It’s not terrible for any reason. He’s just grouchy. For starters, he misses being alive. It’s nice to be able to touch Julie now, and to occasionally be visible to people with her help, but it’s not the same. On a day like this in the past, he might have gone for a hard run, just to sweat and feel his heart race. Or maybe taken a nap. Or eaten a bunch. He knows ghosts don’t get hungry, but he misses being able to eat just for the sake of it sometimes, for the comfort of warm food on a cold day.

Not that he can feel the cold anymore either. But whatever. You get the point.

So he's having this terrible, grouchy day, and he ends up spread-eagled on Julie's bed, even though he knows he's not meant to be in her room. It just sucks how long she's gone at school every day, and he knows he's not supposed to visit her at school even more than he's not supposed to be in her room. He's not even prying through her stuff this time! He's just innocently feeling sorry for himself.

Even with his eyes closed, he can feel and hear the presence of someone else poofing into the room. Then he hears Alex's voice, "Dude, you know you're not supposed to be in here when Julie's not home."

Luke cracks open one eye. Alex is standing with his hands in his pockets, but his shoulders aren't all up against his ears like they get when he's anxious. More than anything, he looks that particular, Alex-brand mixture of irritated and concerned, eyebrows raised, lips pressed together, eyebrows furrowed. "C'mon, man. What gives?"

Luke sighs, long and dramatic, and snaps, "I don't know, okay?!" mostly just because in the moment, it feels good to be a little terse. Then the moment ends, and he feels bad, his stomach turning all tight and guilty. "Sorry, Lex," he groans, dragging his hands over his own face and then keeping them there, so he doesn't have to see Alex's expression melt into that other Alex-brand look, the one where he's halfway between knowing and affectionate. Somehow, that face is worse than the irritated-concerned one. "I'm just... I dunno. I don't wanna be a ghost any more. And I miss food. And Julie's still not home. Today sucks."

"That's fair enough," says Alex, like he always has when Luke is whinging for no reason, because Alex only ever tells him to shut up or be reasonable or quit whining when he's really being ridiculous, and Luke appreciates that, that Alex knows when to let him ramble but knows when enough is enough. Luke feels the mattress move as Alex sits on the end of the bed. "Like, you shouldn't be such an asshole about it—" Luke can't help but smile at that, knows Alex is grinning too without even looking "—but it's still fair." A moment of silence. In his mind's eye, Luke can see Alex staring into the carpet like it holds some answers for him, thinking hard enough it basically counts as a workout. "Is there anything I can do to help?" Alex asks eventually, soft. He means it.

Luke shrugs. It's nice in this dark little cave he's created with his hands. "I don't know, man."

"Okay," says Alex. The mattress shifts more under Luke. Then, Luke feels his right side glow with warmth as Alex lies down beside him. Sometimes he wonders if since they became ghosts, he can actually feel his boys' auras, or something, because he's sure this sense of care and steadiness didn't radiate off Alex quite like this when they were alive. Maybe it's been since the Orpheum, actually. Luke can't really remember. "C'mere," Alex encourages him. "I'm good for hugs today, if you want some."

Maybe once upon a time Luke would have pretended not to be eager, but even then, he would have done a bad job, and now he doesn't even bother with the act. Immediately, he takes his hands off his face, blinking against the return of the light as he turns to Alex, flings an arm across Alex's chest and a leg over Alex's hip, snuggling up tight until he's plastered to the side of Alex's body. Alex just laughs, quiet, extends his arm out so Luke can pillow his head on Alex's shoulder, one hand coming up to mess up Luke's hair even more than it already was.

For a moment, they lie there together, Luke relaxing until he feels more and more like his body and Alex's body are synced, breaths coming in and out at a similar pace. The bitter, jittery feeling in his spine eases back, lets go of his tongue, so he feels less likely to bite at whoever comes close.

Which is good timing, because there's another whoosh, and this weight lands behind him, on the bed as soon as they arrive.

"You guys are cuddling without me?" Reggie says, but he doesn't sound upset. In fact, he sounds delighted that there's cuddling happening, period. There's scuffling, and then two thuds, because Reggie knows better than to let his shoes touch Julie's bed, and then Luke feels a different warmth, sweeter than Alex's, more caramelised, and Reggie spoons against Luke's back, his nose burying into Luke's neck and one arm laying all the way over him to rest on Alex's chest.

"We were cuddling without you, because Luke was being a miserable grouch, but we've been interrupted," Alex says primly, and as Luke manages a mildly offended hey!, Reggie laughs, not phased at all. Luke can feel it as it vibrates from Reggie's chest to his own back, the tangibility of his joy making Luke feel warm from the inside. Reggie and Alex start bickering over the top of his head, and he doesn't really pay attention to them. Some part of him is trying to string some lyrics together, about being warm, about being able to feel someone else laughing because they're pressed so closely to you that their happiness feels just as much your own. But he's not quite sure what he's trying to say, yet.

They're still there when Julie gets home from school. Luke hears the door open and close, feels Reggie go tense, like he's worried they're going to get yelled at. But Julie only sounds kind of exasperated when she says, "Seriously, guys? Boundaries?"

"Luke's having a bad day," Reggie explains right away.

"Not anything serious," Alex corrects him, "just in a bad mood."

Luke nods and wriggles a bit between his boys, sits up so he can look at Julie properly.

The feeling of his heart in his mouth when he sees her will apparently never stop. She looks tired and ruffled from her day at school, hair a cloud around her face where he can see she was running her fingers through it as she thought in class, skirt crumpled at the hem where she would have wrinkled it in her fist, rubbed the fabric between her fingers. She dumps her backpack on the carpet and offers him a grin, and he can't remember what in the world he could have been grumpy about. If being a ghost brought him to her, being a ghost is awesome.

He looks around at the bed and realises they're going to have to rearrange, but Alex and Reggie seem on the same page at the same time, because they're his favourites and he loves them and he wants them close to him always. They move, adjusting and shuffling around, until a spot for Julie appears in between Alex and Luke. With a relieved sigh, she flops down, and Luke might be fooling himself, but he thinks he feels her energy, too. It's softer than Alex or Reggie, enveloping, like warm water scented with something beautiful.

She leans over Luke to kiss Reggie's forehead hello, then kisses Luke on the mouth (she tastes like the cherry bubblegum Flynn always carries around), then she turns to kiss Alex on the cheek. "I have homework to do later," she says, but it comes out a little garbled as she surprises herself with a yawn. Luke, Alex and Reggie exchange a fond look over the top of her head — she'll be asleep before she knows it. Alex nods his head at the clock on her desk and mouths I'll wake her up, because Luke and Reggie both have absolutely zero time perception.

Luke wraps his arms around Julie's waist and holds her close to him, and she settles in, Alex curling up to hold her from behind while Reggie moves up a bit, so he can press himself to Luke and run his hands gently through Julie's hair at the same time. Their different kinds of warm all stitch themselves together, weaving over Luke's body like a blanket, like a shield. All that's wrong with the world is on the other side, kept away from him by Alex's fingers rubbing little circles into Luke's side, by the feeling of Julie's chest rising and falling with her breaths, by the movement of Reggie's arms over his head. By all of them curled as close to him as they can be.

Luke's day isn't so terrible after all.

--

jatp taglist (lmk if you want to be added or removed!!): @queenmolina @nickalicious @bi-reginald @malecacidd @burntchromas @jughead-is-canonically-aroace @cinnamonstickrayofsunlight @chickwiththepurpleguitar @fairylightsandrainydays @joyandthephantoms @fighttoshine @michelangelinda @queenofthequillandink @random-nerd-3 @silent-silver-slip @apolo81 @evashmz @bagoffriedrice @thedeathdeelers

[blinder-secrets]

Count For Me

tommy x anxious reader, 2164 words

a/n: i’m not gonna say the reader is having a panic attack specifically, more that they’re experiencing a lot of anxiety, so take that with a pinch of salt pls. i’m not suggesting this is how all anxiety feels or that it can be alleviated like this every time, im just basing it on my own experiences so enjoy!

You’re sat in the kitchen, or rather, the stairwell to the kitchens. You had every intention of making it there, of sitting at the large oak table in the fore-room, and having tea. Bread. Of letting Frances relax and serving yourself. But, instead, you’re on the last step down, legs bouncing on the balls of your feet.

It can only be described as fretting, incessant worry; your mind is agonising over things already done, over what’s to come next. It isn’t guns, or business, or family arguments that’s got you. It’s something invisible. Unknown, but biting away regardless. It’s sitting on the step and thinking about everything, and nothing — it’s losing yourself entirely, feeling the hand tighten around your throat, the dread, the weight of it in your chest. You sit and you feel afraid. After all you’ve seen in the world, all you’ve been through with Tommy. It’s your own head that works itself against you now, your own commentary that rots your mind in the quiet moments. Fuck. If you said it aloud they’d laugh you out the room. If you told Pol she’d say you were sick, that you needed air and spirits, and none of this Shelby wreckage to pull you down.

‘In the kitchen, Sir.’

Oh, Christ, Tommy’s home. You hear him, direct and toward where you're hiding. From his footsteps, it seems like he’s coming from the opposite wing, so he’ll make it into the kitchen before you ever did.

He calls your name through the hallway. It bounces off the cool tiles.

‘I’m here, Tommy,’ you say back in a false tone; you dread him finding you more than the rest of it.  

You’ve got maybe a minute to collect yourself, but from the way your feet are sinking through the stone of the floor beneath you, that’s not going to happen. He arrives in the kitchen, says your name again. He can’t see you from where he is.

‘On the stairs,’ you tell him.

Once he’s in front of you, your energy spikes. It’s easier to ignore the feeling when you’re with him. He tucks it away for you, somewhat, just a bit. ‘What is it?’ he asks, shaking his head slightly, his lips parted. A cigarette leaks smoke from between his fingers. He’s taken his coat off, but the jacket’s still there. Still dressed like he could leave again at any moment.

‘Nothing.’ You smile. ‘Are you back now?’

‘For now,’ he answers. He steps forward, places the back of his hand against your forehead. ‘Are you sick?’

‘No. Just wanted to sit somewhere.’

He doesn’t believe you, he knows you too well. You still your knees but they’re bouncing again before you can offer an explanation.

‘Tell me,’ he insists, clueless.

Where do you start? What could you possibly say that would make sense. I was going to make lunch, Tommy, but then I sat down here and I couldn’t get up again. ‘Nothing,’ you repeat, pausing to force a swallow. ‘I don’t know, really.’

He takes a drag. On the exhale, he offers the smoke to you, silent but willing to help. You shake your head; it’s not your habit, it doesn’t calm you like it does with him.

‘Has something happened?’ he asks. He’s patient, waiting for you to give him a way in, prepared to go slow when you need it.

‘No, nothing’s happened.’ Nothing you knew of. You were doing fine, going about the day like normal, and then suddenly you weren’t. It had already swamped you before you realised it was coming. ‘It’s just my head,’ you say, forcing the words over a breath that hadn’t quite made it. ‘I think it’s out to get me, Tom.’

He sighs. His lips pour smoke onto the tiles as he looks down. Another stress for him: you sat on his shoulders like the rest of it did, weighed him down without meaning to. You feel yourself rock forward, your head pulling into your chest, like there’s string attached from your chin to your heart and now it’s constricting. ‘Sorry,’ you pant, though you may have said it in your head. It could’ve been a thought amongst the sea and you wouldn’t have known. Sorry for the stress, Tommy, sorry for it all.

‘Hey,’ he says, repeating it firmly after a pause. ‘Hey. Look at me.’ His hand goes to your face, fingers leading your chin upwards until your gaze is on him. ‘Whatever it is, it’s just noise, alright? Just shit in the trough.’

Your lids drop a fraction. ‘Tommy…’

‘No.’ He shakes his head. ‘You’re here, with me, right, in the kitchen. Don’t let it pull you under.’

You don’t want to. You’re scanning him, looking for something to ground you, the gold of his cufflink, the button of his waistcoat. Nothing sticks. You’re trying to focus but it’s splitting your attention again. Filling your head with the noise, the pull, the drag. ‘I think I’m going mad,’ you say. Your head’s so tight you can’t make sense of it.

His brows draw together. You focus on the crease in the skin between them. ‘What is it?’ he asks. ‘Eh? What’s worrying you so much?’

‘I don’t know,’ you answer honestly. It sounds like a plea but it’s all you can give him.  

You feel like a horse on the track; everything’s past you, behind you, loud in the stands and betting against you. There’s a worry to your left but it’s overtaken by the one on your right. So much at once, too often and too fast to know which is the biggest problem, which is the one causing the damage. If you could pluck something out, you would. If you could tell him, it’d be the first thing you did. There isn’t an answer to his question that doesn’t just make it worse — the more you try to put a name to it, or explain, the harder it gets to breathe. You can feel your heartbeat in your wrists.

Swearing, you drop your head again like it’s a lead weight, letting his fingertips drag up your cheek with the motion. ‘I can’t tell,’ you say weakly. ‘Feels like I’m drowning.’ 

The ring you’re wearing sits loose on your index finger; you spin it around the knuckle nervously, forcing a shallow breath each time the ruby completes a loop. If you look at him again you might cry. He didn’t ask for this, he didn’t know what to do with you anymore than you knew yourself.

Clearing his throat once, Tommy puts the cigarette between his lips and bends to grab you with both hands. He takes you by the elbows, thumbs tight on your arms, and pulls you to your feet before you have room to complain. You try to avoid his gaze, but his head ducks and chases your eyes until you give in.

‘Listen,’ he starts. He takes the cigarette out, blows the smoke away before he talks. ‘I won’t let you, alright? No-one’s drowning here.’ He looks certain, dedicated, his eyes dig through yours and back into the noise. ‘There’s nothing going on in there that we can’t sort. Okay?’

You want to believe him, so you nod. The next breath you take swells your chest into his.

‘Come here,’ he says briskly, pulling you after him as he walks you deeper into the kitchen. ‘When we were in France—stand there.’ You’re put by the table. He goes to the nearest drawer, pilfering through the silverware as he continues, ‘When we were in France, they told us we had to count.’

‘Count?’

‘To still our hands.’ He turns, pushing the drawer shut with his hip, and files through the forks he’s now holding. ‘Bullets, cards. Saw John counting his teeth once.’

You blink like it’ll help you listen. Everything he’s saying is going in, but bouncing back again. It rattles in your ear canal like coins down a well.

‘Here,’ he says, offering them to you. ‘Count them.’

You hesitate. Then he grabs your wrist, sets your palm straight, and pours the cutlery into it.

‘Go on.’

Mumbling an agreement, you turn to the table and put the first fork onto the wood. One. Two. You hope he doesn’t notice the slight shake along your fingers, the clumsiness as you pass forks from one hand to the other.

‘Do it out loud,’ he guides, as he stands beside you. He exhales, dragging it out and pushing the smoke over your shoulder; you’d forgotten he even had one lit.

‘Three,’ you say. ‘Four.’  

All those cigarettes. Lips barely his unless there’s one between them. They’ll get him one day, you think. The cough will get worse and then it’ll be you, on your own in this big house, you looking after Charlie, you with the ache and the grief and the silence.

‘Stop thinking,’ he chides. ‘Count.’

‘Five, six, seven.’ You sigh. The forks clatter on top of one another. ‘Eight, nine. This is stupid, Tommy. Ten.’ You turn to him, expectant of something else, something more helpful.

He just raises his eyebrows, gesturing for you to pick them up again. ‘Now do it over.’

‘Again?’

He nods. The cigarette is extinguished, flicked to the floor and crushed between his sole and the tile. ‘You do it again, and again,’ he lists, ‘until it feels like you can breathe.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

It takes four rounds of it before your chest loosens; four tens, over and over, forks placed down and picked up again as you count. He stands in silence the whole time, his hands in his pockets, his eyes on the table. How he doesn’t tire of it, you don’t know. He clears his throat occasionally but doesn’t say anything until you break the rhythm.

‘I think it’s worked,’ you mumble, taking care as you set the last fork down. ‘I feel better.’

It’s not all gone, but you feel calmer. Stiller. Your hands aren’t as jittery and the room feels big again, cold and empty and utilitarian.

He sighs, heavily, thankfully. The noise loud and partnered with a rough tone. ‘Alright,’ he says. He clicks into motion, pulling his hands free and turning to you so that he can bracket them around your face. His fingers are rough, warm, grounding. The rings stamp your cheeks, cold like ice. ‘What did I say, eh? Nothing we couldn’t sort.’

You smile limply and put a hand to his wrist. ‘Thank-you, Tommy.’

You hadn’t expected him to break through it, to make you pause. Breathe. It’s usually the other way around, you calming him. You sifting through the muck. It had never crossed your mind that it would work in reverse.

‘Next time,’ he says quietly, ‘you tell me.’ His chin dips a fraction, blue eyes laced with intent. ‘You tell me as soon as it get’s too much, alright?’

‘Okay,’ you promise, nodding between his palms. ‘Sorry.’

His lip tweaks slightly. ‘What have you got to be sorry for?’ he asks. Then he tilts up to kiss your forehead and, pulling back, utters ‘my silly girl’ under his breath.

You can’t smile. The question almost loses you again. You have plenty to be sorry for, you think, handfuls of apologies shoved into each corner of your brain. ‘Let’s do something,’ you say quickly, chasing the scatter away. ‘Distract me, please.’

He kisses you, lips firm and sure against yours in an agreement, a promise. ‘I have something to show you,’ he says afterwards. His grip on your face drops and he takes a hand instead, fingers curling around your palm. ‘The new horse is here.’

‘It is?’ You cling to him, put your free hand around his bicep and pull tight to his side like the closeness will help. He looks at you like he understands. ‘Well, show me then,’ you push, almost able to smile into it. ‘She was pretty from what I remember.’

‘Very pretty,’ he agrees. ‘Come on.’

You follow him through the house and across the drive. He doesn’t stop talking the whole way, which is unlike him, but he knows any silence will just cause you to slip again, to overthink until you’re tumbling. You answer his questions, dumb as they are, like he doesn’t already know the answers. You tell him what you had for breakfast, what you read in the paper. He asks, and he drawls, and he comments on the bloom of the roses as you pass them. He keeps going and going, until you’re so wrapped up in him, and the house, and the world outside, that everything else falls quiet. Peaceful. He fills your head with his own voice and you thank him for it. You thank him, and you hold on like it’s the only thing keeping you above the water.

‘You alright?’ he asks, checking once you’ve reached the stables.

‘Yes, Tom.’ You smile, meaning it. ‘I’m with you, remember?’

[badapricot]

Lovely Writer: Count 20, 21, & 22

Based on the promos and the end of the Episode 8, these chapters should be included in Episode 9 of Lovely Writer. Keep in mind that they often cut scenes or move them around. And yes, this includes Nubsib and Gene’s first time.

Count 20

After leaving Siam Paragon, Gene waits in his condo. While he’s there he gets LINE messages from Nubsib telling him to eat and wait for him.

After, Gene gets drunk texts from Aey that include closeups of his lips and pictures of a man. Gene asks who the man is and Aey says Gene is too jealous, but the man isn’t Nubsib.

Gene says he isn’t jealous and goes to get dressed to meet Aey. He’s not a parent but he is worried about Aey being drunk at a bar with some random man.

Gene goes to the hotel bar and is relieved to see Aey is sitting alone.

Gene tells Aey to pay so they can go but Aey buys Gene a mojito.

Aey says he’s surprised Gene came without Nubsib and Gene remembers that he hasn’t texted Nubsib back or told him where he went. He goes to text him but Aey stops him from grabbing his phone. He tells Gene that they were talking right? And Gene doesn’t want Nubsib to interrupt them like last time. Gene says fine but they can talk at home, they don’t need to do it at the bar.

Aey asks Gene if he likes Nubsib and goes to touch his face. The bartender brings Gene’s drink over and interrupts them so Aey stops. He tells Gene that he could tell Nubsib likes Gene.

Gene asks Aey if he’s gay and Aey says yes, he doesn’t like women. He’s actually prettier than most women.

Gene can tell that Aey is very drunk to be talking like this so he orders him water, but Aey just orders another alcoholic drink. He asks Gene why he hasn’t touched his mojito and tells him he’s cute.

Aey says it’s stupid but he’s happy that Gene was worried enough to come see him at the bar. He says that a kind person like Gene can like him so he should stop liking Nubsib and like him instead. 

Gene says he wants to go home and Aey says Gene doesn’t have to—he can hold on to him tonight.

Gene doesn’t have the strength to push Aey away and he’s surprised by how much stronger Aey feels now when before he seemed so small. Nubsib steps in and covers Gene’s mouth so Aey can’t kiss him.

Nubsib and Mhok have arrived from the after party. Aey asks what they’re doing and Mhok takes Aey away to talk. Nubsib is so scary, Gene doesn’t dare to look at him or speak.

Gene sees his untouched drink on the bar and the thousands of baht Aey threw next to it and feels guilty so he goes to drink the drink, but Nubsib takes it and drinks it all at once.

Nubsib says they can go back now and takes Gene to his car. Once they’re inside he aggressively kisses him and asks Gene what he should do with him.

Nubsib asks Gene “Do you know what you did wrong?” and Gene says he was wrong to go and talk to Aey even though Nubsib told him not to, and Nubsib tells Gene no, he was wrong to make him worry. He tells Gene he gets very worried when he can’t contact Gene.

Gene says he told Nubsib that he’s not a kid so he doesn’t have to worry and Nubsib tells him that he told him already, it’s not related to his age. Nubsib worries about Gene because he’s his important person.

Gene finally tells Nubsib “...sorry” and Nubsib kisses his cheek and tells him not to forget this.

Gene asks if Nubsib is still mad that he came to see Aey and Nubsib says yes, because he’s not just protective, he’s also possessive.

Gene admits that he also got jealous when he thought that Aey might have been at the bar with Nubsib.

Nubsib tells Gene that they’ll make a deal. Nubsib will always tell Gene where he goes if Gene does the same. Gene agrees.

Gene asks how Mhok knows Aey and Nubsib says they’re friends. Gene thinks that’s weird cause they never seemed close to him.

Gene also can’t comprehend Aey liking him even though it came from his mouth. He asks Nubsib why he likes Gene even though Gene isn’t super handsome or rich and Nubsib says that Gene is cute and he likes him. So what? And if Nubsib likes Gene, then so can other people.

Nubsib drives Gene home and Gene gets LINE messages from Aey. He asks Gene out for another drink. Gene says Aey has drunk enough and mentions that Nubsib drank Gene’s drink. Aey then asks about what Mhok and Nubsib talked about. When Gene doesn’t answer, Aey tells Gene that he drugged his drink—the mojito Nubsib drank. Aey tells Gene that Nubsib should soak in a cold bath all night if he really drank it.

Count 21 (Nubsib POV)

Nubsib thinks Gene looks very cute but weirdly anxious and jittery.

He tells Nubsib “You ate...” but can’t bring himself to say it.

Nubsib asks Gene if it’s hot and if he wants him to turn on the air conditioner and Gene freaks out a bit. He asks Nubsib if he’s feeling hot and then tells him to speed home.

As soon as they get back to the condo Gene pushes Nubsib to take a cold shower to save money on the electric bill. Nubsib tells Gene it’s just a bill, it’s not a big deal. Gene starts listing the other benefits of cold water like that it won’t dry out Nubsib’s skin and it will help burn fat.

Nubsib laughs and thinks Gene being weird is cute. He goes to take a shower and then comes out. Gene goes into shower next and Nubsib peeps at Gene’s phone. He sees that Gene was reading an article about sex pills.

Gene comes back to the bedroom and berates Nubsib for not taking a cold enough shower. Gene noticed steam on the mirrors.

Gene showers and then comes out wearing Nubsib’s clothes, which make him look small.

They lie in bed together and Nubsib starts playing up the symptoms in the article he saw Gene reading. He says he feels hot and Gene checks his forehead. In reality, Nubsib is only hot because he’s lying in bed with Gene.

Gene puts Nubsib’s head in his lap and says they should go to the hospital. Nubsib says, “I’m hot so I need to go to the hospital?”

Gene finally admits that Aey texted him and told him that he drugged his drink with sex pills.

Nubsib asks Gene where someone would even get pills like that (as a joke). He then tells Gene that he’d never drink something if it looked suspicious. He’s totally fine.

Gene doesn’t believe him because if Nubsib was normal, he would have hugged him already. 

“Do you want me to hug you?”

“No it’s just usually like that.”

“Okay, so I’ll hold you tight later on.”

Gene narrowed his eyes. “Then why won’t you just hold me now?”

“...”

“It’s because you’re uncomfortable right? You don’t have to pretend to be a good person, you can tell me about it.”

Nubsib wants to comfort Gene but he likes how worried he is about him. He tells Gene he’ll go to the bathroom and take care of himself later. Gene says then it must be bad right? The pills are strong.

Gene says that if he doesn’t go to the hospital, he needs to take care of it himself.

Nubsib tells Gene to relax and that they should just go to bed. He says, “I told you there’s nothing. You were just fooled by me.”

Gene doesn’t believe Nubsib and pounces on him. He tells Nubsib that he’ll help him himself. Nubsib tells Gene that he doesn’t have to force himself to do anything and Gene says he’ll only use his hand.

Nubsib tells Gene it’s fine and Gene says, “Don’t be a hero.”

Nubsib says, “At this time, you haven’t accepted me yet. If we do it like this, it’s me taking advantage.”

Gene says, “You’re not taking advantage. I’m offering to help myself.”

Nubsib reminds Gene that he promised to hold him tight and say it loud when he confessed.

Gene holds onto Nubsib and shyly says, “Like...like...like.”

Nubsib laughs because he’s so happy.

They smile and Nubsib asks if Gene still wants to do it.

Gene says yes because Nubsib’s hard.

Nubsib says it’s not because of any drugs, but because Gene is cute.

Gene’s face says he doesn’t believe Nubsib. He tells Nubsib that if he’s too embarrassed to go to the hospital then Gene will do it himself. He starts taking off Nubsib’s pants and Nubsib reminds Gene that last time he told him he wouldn’t hold back.

Gene isn’t listening and tells Nubsib to help him with his pants. Nubsib “helps” by kissing Gene and taking his shirt off. He takes his pants off too and Gene tells him, “I told you to help me.” Nubsib tells Gene that he is helping him, because he doesn’t want to do it alone.

Nubsib spreads Gene’s legs and Gene asks if they’re seriously going to do it. Nubsib says yes and they’re going to do it vigorously which makes Gene’s eyes widen.

Nubsib licks Gene’s chest which makes Gene very embarrassed. 

Nubsib thinks that Gene looks like he’s not in his body, because he’s so inexperienced he’s oversensitive to everything.

Nubsib eats Gene out and wants to explore every nook and cranny for hours but stops because if he keeps going then he’s worried he’ll get too rough.

“It hurts, Sib.”

“Be patient.”

“I’m sore.”

“Yes, I know. I know.”

Wet eyelashes and tears. They rolled from the corner of his eyes and made my heart faint. I stopped what I was doing and my other hand, which was still free, gently stroked his small face.

We kissed and touched. Eventually, Gene’s heavy breathing lessened.

Even if I’m patient, there’s no way for someone to not get hurt during their first time. I poured more lube on my hand and moved forward. Knowing that Gene was suffering, I was also suffering.

Close to entirely inside his body, he tightened. I smiled even though my jaw gritted. I wanted to control myself so Gene wasn’t afraid.

In a hoarse voice I said, “It’s all inside.”

“...”

“Can you feel it?”

Gene nodded. I paused, waiting a little longer, before slowly moving my hips. Gene’s eyebrows which were still drawn tight, slowly loosened with time.

“Ah...ah!”

I was patiently moving slowly before increasing the speed little by little.

“Gene...Khun Gene.”

I moved the palm of my hand to support his buttocks, to soften the impact. Under my body, Gene moaned as if he wanted hide how he was feeling. The sound of the thrusting and the lube sounded rough.

“You’re...too big.”

“...”

I accidentally thrust too hard, until I heard a high pitched cry. Almost completely withdrawing from his body before invading again. I couldn’t help but say harshly, “Who taught you to speak like that?”

“I...can’t.”

The dim lights made me see it all. His red face and torso. The eyes dim with tears. The rhythm that moved his hips deeply. I moved both hands to hold his waist. Looking at the emotions on Gene’s face, I tried to remember it precisely in my brain.

“Gene, do you know...how long I’ve waited for today?”

“Yeah.”

“Call my name, let me know that I’m taking you, Gene.”

“...”

“Who is taking you Gene?”

“Sib.”

“...”

“Nubsib.”

I leaned down to caress Gene, and he hugged me. A small, cute moan was heard repeatedly in my ear before I thrust my hips deeper for the last time.

Buried so close that we were almost fused, made sure that the person in front of me was all mine.

Count 22

Gene wakes up with Nubsib’s forearm around him.

He tries to get up and Nubsib asks where he’s going.

Gene says that Nubsib has class right? And Nubsib reminds Gene that it’s Sunday, and he doesn’t have filming today either.

Gene says he wants to take a shower and Nubsib says it’s fine because he wiped him last night. Inside too. So Gene’s body is completely clean.

Gene pushes Nubsib and Nubsib laughs before kissing the hand Gene used to shove him.

Nubsib tells Gene to take a shower later and Gene says fine but he still wants to go to the bathroom. Nubsib carries Gene to the bathroom.

I automatically moved my arm around Nubsib’s neck. The quilt around me came off and the cold air from the air conditioner blew. I froze knowing that I was totally naked and not wearing any clothes. Faster than I could think, I tensed my legs to try and hide. But I cried out because of the sore muscles in my back.

“Ouch!”

“I know you’re shy, but don’t hurt yourself.”

“Isn’t it because of you?”

Nubsib’s sharp eyes lowered slightly. “Then I’ll take care of it for you.”

“There’s no need!”

Gene makes Nubsib leave. It’s kind of hard for him to stand but he manages. He notices that there are a lot of red marks on his body and hopes they go away soon.

Gene asks Nubsib to bring him some clothes and he does.

He carries Gene to the couch and Gene smells him cooking.

Nubsib then carries Gene to the kitchen and Gene gets embarrassed over how Nubsib isn’t even bothering to let Gene walk and is just wordlessly carrying him everywhere.

Nubsib gives Gene medicine and Gene asks if Nubsib is okay too after the drug he took last night. Nubsib says yes he’s fine.

Nubsib calls Gene just “Gene” and Gene says they aren’t the same age.

Nubsib says that might be true, but Gene is his boyfriend.

Nubsib says, “Would you prefer wife or beloved?” and Gene says, “Let’s stick with Gene.”

Nubsib carries Gene back to his bed and tells him to sleep.

Gene wakes up at 9AM and thinks Nubsib’s condo is really well stocked and he’s lucky to have a housekeeper.

As he makes breakfast Nubsib comes up to him and kisses his cheek, scaring him.

Nubsib holds Gene and asks if he’s going to write all day and Gene says yes.

He hasn’t gone back to his own apartment since the day of the event because he misses Nubsib so much. 

Nubsib kisses Gene with tongue and Gene tells him to stop doing this when they just wake up. Nubsib says, “It’s a morning kiss. Never read it in a novel?”

Nubsib asks Gene to come to set and visit him today. He’ll take Gene out to eat.

They eat breakfast. Later on, Gene goes to meet Nubsib at the set.

There’s nowhere for Gene to sit on set and it’s too hot to stay outside so he goes inside and stays in an air conditioned room.

Aey comes in and says he’s surprised to see Gene. He thought Nubsib would keep him away.

Gene is silent and Aey acts why he’s acting this way.

Gene is so angry he can’t even speak—thinking about all the side effects the pills could have had.

Aey says that he lied to Gene because Gene didn’t answer him. He didn’t put in any drugs at all.

Aey says he’s sorry but he just wanted to get back at Nubsib by having him soak in an ice bath. He didn’t put anything in there.

Gene is frozen in shock.

Gene says playing a joke is one thing, but they could have called the police too.

Aey asks if Gene hates him and Gene says that if he hated Aey he wouldn’t be standing there talking to him.

Aey then asks if Gene likes Nubsib and Gene says yes he does.

Aey starts laughing to the point where he’s crying and says that it’s really cute how Gene thought that he liked Nubsib.

Gene thinks that between Nubsib and Aey, if all young people today are like this then he doesn’t want to leave the house.

Aey stops laughing but he stays smiling. He tells Gene that he actually saw Gene on Nubsib’s phone before the casting and he became interested because Nubsib doesn’t care about anyone but he cared about who was in that picture. That’s why Aey followed him to the casting.

Gene is so confused by the fact that Aey doesn’t like Nubsib.

Aey says that if Gene won’t be his boyfriend then he can be his friend-in-law and Gene doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

He tells Aey not to play pretend like this again and Aey laughs before leaving.

Gene meets up with Nubsib who comes in from set.

“Nong Aey told me he didn’t put anything in the mojito. So were you affected or were you not?”

“Mojito?” Nubsib’s eyebrows raised. “What mojito?”

“Don’t pretend to forget. Not even a week ago, the drink you drank for me.”

“Oh!”

“Oh!?”

“...”

Nubsib went silent. Seeing that reaction, I immediately guessed. I pointed a finger at him.

“You bad boy! You fooled me!”

“Gene.”

“At that time I was worried about you, but...”

“I told you multiple times I wasn’t affected. Don’t you remember?”

“...”

“Where would you get sex medicine from?”

“If it looks suspicious, I won’t pick it up and drink it.”

“I told you I wasn’t. You were fooled by me.”

[wtfevenismypage]

Observer Not Profiler PT.3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Summary: You’re similar to a profiler, but you can tell almost anything about a person just from a single glance. What they had for dinner, if they took a bath or shower, their name, favorite color, if they lie, even if they’re good in bed. You’ve been running from the government ever since you got caught hacking into their systems and since then you have been diagnosed with Extreme anxiety, anxious tics, and paranoia. But now the BAU need you’re help in Identifying killers.

Warnings: maybe a curse word or two, mentions of death, anxious/nervous ticking, tic attacks

A/N: Hey all! Here’s part 3! Remember that requests are open! So is the taglist, however I may be closing the taglist in a few weeks! thank you for reading!

You never knew you were scared of being on private jets until Dr. Spencer Reid rolled along.

“Statistically, Private jets crash more so than commercial planes do. The rate is commonly expressed as the number of accidents per 100,000 flight hours. The accident and fatal-accident rates declined again in 2015. In fact, the fatal-accident rate fell below one to 0.84, meaning there was less than one fatal crash per 100,000 flight hours.”

You think he was trying to make you feel better, but it only made you even more terrified.

“I would like to join the Bureau!”

Emily smiles happily, she knew that getting to know you would be a blast, and your people reading skills would come in major handy.

“That’s wonderful!”

Garcia yells out before wrapping her arms around you, it makes you freeze at first, but the hesitation wears off and you hug her back before shaking hands with everyone else.

When you shake Dr. Reid’s hand, you linger for a second, barely a second, before shaking hands with Hotch.

“This is going to be difficult, you’ll need training.”

You nod, shaking his calloused hand firmly.

“Of course sir, I’m willing to go through all of the training in the world for this.”

He smiles, but barely, only noticeable if you were looking (which you are) and you feel ecstatic at the small gesture. 

“Well, we have a jet to catch, so let’s hurry up. wheel’s up in thirty.”

The first few weeks of training were intense, you were physically trained by Morgan, he got you into shape and gifted you with a subtle six pack that you could see if you squinted hard enough. 

Hotch trained you to handle a gun, which you kind of sucked at. Every time you shot it, you jumped five feet in the air and had a mini panic attack, which Hotch had to help you out with.

Emily, Rossi, and JJ made you into a pretty damn good interrogator, which made you smile every time they complimented you.

You were shocked when you learned that you actually did need lessons in profiling, you needed to learn certain behaviors at crime scenes when you couldn’t see the unsub. Reid helped you in that regard. He also told you all sorts of fun facts, which you happily listened to, you loved learning new things and you would even insist upon hearing the facts sometimes.

You and Penelope had races against each other to see who could get into what faster, so far you two were tied.

Today is the day though, your first day as an official member of the team. Surprisingly, you still couldn’t say the word profiler without spiraling, and you’ve been having anxious tic attacks all night and all morning.

As you walk into the doors to the big office in the early early morning, your wrists slam together twice, making you wince and rub them, feeling the bruises from last night scream in rage.

“I’ve gotta learn to stop that...”

You realize you’re the first in the office, so you just take a quick seat to try and ground yourself, but it instead spirals into a tic attack as you take in what’s finally happening after all of these long and torturous years. 

“Y/L/N. You alright?”

You turn to the cold voice, seeing Hotch standing at the top of the stairs. You thought you were alone, you hoped you were, but if anyone was going to be at the office, you weren’t surprised it was Hotch.

“Oh, sorry sir, I’m just having first day nerves! I feel like I’m back in middle school...”

He flashes you an understanding half-smile, walking up to you and patting your shoulder.

“Don’t worry too much, everyone here is already obsessed with you, you’ll fit right in.”

You smile, trying to act like you were okay,but when your fist harshly collides with the side of your head, you sigh and clutch the now bruised spot.

“Well, the others should be here soon, your desk is right there, next to Reid’s.”

You couldn’t stop the pink heat that bum-rushed it’s way onto your cheeks, trying to avoid Hotch seeing by moving to your new desk an sitting down, subconsciously clapping your palm against the desk.

“Wowie. I’m all official and everything huh?”

You smirk before the door clicks open, people beginning to enter the once-empty office space and making your nerves go through the roof once again.

That is, until Derek and Reid walk in with Garcia chatting about something random with Emily laughing at her.

“Hey Y/L/N! How’s the day so far?”

Derek asks, sitting on your desk. You immediately swat him off with a fake pout painted across your lips.

“Hey, I just got this space, I’ll be d-damned if I let some-some sweaty man sit on it.”

They didn’t miss your nervous stuttering, but in the short time the team had known you, they knew you hated when your tics were the center of attention, so they simply gave sad smiles and moved on.

“We have a new case, Y/L/N, I’ll give you a moment to adjust, round table in ten.”

Hotch walks away, back to his office before Garcia plops down on your desk. Derek notices how you don’t shoo her off and throws a whole fit.

“So you kick me off but not Penelope?”

“Is Garcia a-a sweaty m-man? I don-don’t think so!”

You all laugh before they sit down, Reid sitting next to you and logging into his computer before setting his stuff down.

“You ready for your first case?”

Reid asks, you shrug in response, a nervous smile plastered on your face.

“I g-guess we’ll find-find out.”

Your wrists slam together again, making you hiss in pain a bit, Reid looks concerned and takes one of your wrists in his hand, gently brushing one of his long, slender fingers over your bruised nerves.

“Well a better question, are these going to heal correctly?”

He asked with a sudden seriousness that you didn’t particularly enjoy. 

“Well I don’t know Mr. Genius, why don’t you tell me?”

He looks up at your sarcastic words and smiles a bit, cheeks being brushed with a bit of red as he answers.

“Well they won’t heal properly with your tics, if anything they could get worse, the veins in your wrists will actually get really damaged and it could affect your entire nervous system, you might want to get it-”

“Spencer, as much as I love listening to your rants, and I do, I don’t love listening to the ones about my health being in danger.”

He smiles and discontinues the topic, letting you take your wrists out of his gentle grip and returning to your computer.

“Alright everyone, let’s get to the round table.”

-

-

-

-

-

Throughout the entire case, you stick close with Reid, he made you feel safer than the others somehow. He didn’t say anything about you being with him the entire time, he just accepted the helpful points you gave him. 

One night, you two were up all night trying to find a connection, laying out on top of a desk, listening to Mozart (he insisted) and trying to make a connection between the victims.

You had gotten so excited when you finally made a connection you started jumping up and down with Spencer, holding his hands happily as he joined your silly theatrics.

He seemed to be the only person that can relax your anxiety, even just standing around him helped slow your tics. You didn’t know why he relaxed you, he just did. 

On the jet back to the BAU, the two of you shared earbuds to listen to classical music, you had left your headphones back in Oregon so Spencer offered his left earbud.

Even back at the offices when you were working with Penelope, he brought you green tea, telling you it would still keep you awake but it wouldn’t make you as jittery or paranoid as coffee would.

As soon as he left, Garcia started looking at you weird, giving you googly eyes.

“What?”

“You like him don’t you!?”

Your jaw drops, eyebrows furrowing down, your cheeks get all rosy. No way! You didn’t like him like that, you just enjoyed his company.

“No I don’t! You’re finally going crazy huh?”

“You totally do! You’re getting all blushy and everything!”

“I don’t like him like that! I’ve never liked anyone like that, why would it start now huh? It wouldn’t. I don’t like him.”

She gives you a doubtful look, but drops it, letting you spin around to another computer while sipping on your freshly hot green tea.

The next day, you take the elevator up with Spencer, Derek, and JJ, JJ and Derek were talking about some show, while you listened to Spencer ramble about how unrealistic the show was.

“But Spencer, Dr. Who isn’t very realistic, but you still love it don’t you?”

“Well yeah, but I’m immediately biased to Dr. Who for my love of it, with any other movie or show, I don’t hesitate to point out faults.”

You chuckle at that, Spencer’s passion for Dr. Who was unmatched for anyone else’s love for any show. It’s insane. 

“Okay before pretty boy goes on about Dr. Who for hours, let’s escape.”

The doors open, allowing you and the other team members to walk in. Your desk was still fairly empty, not even a plant there to accompany your computer, you were still holding onto your runaway life, whether you admit it or not.

“Y/L/N, I need to talk to you. My office now.”

“What was that about?”

Panic bubbles to your chest, Hotch’s tone was too assertive, too aggresive. It was scary.

“I don’t know...”

Taglist: 

@imsuperawkward @ithinkilovetruecrimetoomuch @l0ve-0f-my-life @hopebaker @thatonezesty13 @nightlygiggless @aberrant-annie @holybatflapexpert @spencerreidisbootiful @april-14-blog @jackryan-plz @ajwantsapancake @lightswriting @emilouu @yourmisosoup @lizziebritish @101donuts @rainsong01 @pretty-boy-genius @squirrellover1967 @gublerstyles @delievia @boxofsparklingmuses @annestine