#i haven’t in any way been Trying to lose weight

[fingertipsmp3]

Diet culture is actual nonsense to be honest. People in my life keep telling me “oh you look like you’ve lost weight!” I’ve literally only lost 3 kilograms since the doctor weighed me, calculated my BMI and told me I was obese. It’s just that I run now and eat a lot more protein and am building muscle

[shatterthefragments]

I know I know don’t trust your feelings at night

And especially don’t trust them when you wake up in the middle of the night after a 12 hr shift.

But. Fuck. I’m. Feeling a lot.

[luveline]

Hi, if you have time and any interest, would you write bombshell!reader comforting Spencer after the Maeve arc? Like maybe she’s the only one he lets in, and she just holds him and lets him cry and puts him first.

Will totally understand if you’d rather not/don’t reply!

ty for requesting!! <3 —You come home from months away to find Spencer in love and grieving, so you do what you can. fem, 2k

You didn’t expect Spencer to fall in love while you were gone, but you can’t begrudge him. Not for having feelings for someone who isn’t you, and certainly not for losing her. 

You love him, and you’re his friend first. 

Your shoes make sharp but steady sounds on the stairs up to his apartment. His building is old but not rundown, lacquered wooden bannister smooth under your hand, his front door immaculate, though the hallway is busy with baskets. There’s ribbon and cellophane everywhere. It’s a sorry sight. 

You haven’t brought Spencer anything besides dinner. Unlike yourself, you take in the offerings of his friends and worry you aren’t as caring as you think you are. 

Not that he seems in the mood to accept it.��

You look down at your mary jane’s and wonder if you’re doing any of this stuff right. Spencer doesn’t even know you’re back in the country, let alone the state. Perhaps he has no interest in seeing you after this long apart, and after such a tragedy. Who wants to see their too flirty friend when they’ve just lost a real love? 

You hike the tote up your shoulder. In a chequered skirt and a simple white t-shirt, you’re underdressed. The pasta you’d made and hurriedly wrapped up burns your hip where the bag rests against you, and you have to make a choice now. Let it burn you, standing and staring morosely at Spencer’s door, or face rejection. 

You only need to hear his voice. He can leave your pasta out here on the floor if he likes. What’s important is that he’s still alive in there. 

You knock on the door. 

Nothing. Complete silence. 

Nudging aside a basket of dried fruits, you try again. A simple rat-tat-tat. 

“Hey, Spencer?” you ask too quietly. 

He won’t hear you through the door. Your voice might as well be a whisper if he’s in his bedroom with the door closed. 

“Spencer, are you okay, my love?” you ask, louder.

You wince at yourself. My love couldn’t be more raw. 

“Sweetheart, I’m just here to see if you’re okay,” you say, knocking again, before leaving your hand to rest on the door. You lean forward, forehead kissing dark wood. 

You can’t hear anything on the other side. 

“Spencer,” you say with a reluctant swallow, “if you’re home, can you tell me? You don’t have to let me in. Just come to the door.” 

Penelope said he hasn’t texted her back for days. Derek said he’d answered the phone once or twice, but beyond that he’s silent. You had a nightmare on the plane home that you’d come back to find him as he’s found his poor girl, or that he’d turn to old vices, or that he’d finally give up. He’s been strong through every horrible thing thrown his way, and now he’s all alone again—

The door opens slowly. You stand up straighter, your surprise a whack to the chest as your heartbeat picks up. 

Spencer stands at the door. He looks more tired than you’ve ever seen him, his dark circles bruised like wine stains under his eyes, even his eyelids red and sore looking. His lips are almost colourless, they're so chapped, and his pyjama pants have deep, deep wrinkles at the knees. 

“Hi,” you say. “Spencer, how are you?” 

His voice rings with disuse. “You’re here.” 

“Came straight home when they told me,” you say softly, honestly. “I knew I had to see you. To make sure you’re okay.” 

“I’m not okay.” 

“I know.” You don’t know if it’s okay to ask to come in, if he’ll close the door at the suggestion, so you don’t. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” You put weight in the wrong places, too much on I’m, not enough on so. “I can’t imagine it. I would never wish this for you, never.” 

“You were in Brazil.” 

“I was.” 

He must be tired of people asking if he’s okay, yet it wants to be asked. You bite it down, and instead offer what may be the key to getting in, or a quick dismissal. 

“I made dinner for you, angel,” you say. You choose the pet name more carefully. He used to call you angel to make you feel better. “It’s just pasta, I tried not to make it too heavy in case you're nauseous.” 

“I feel so sick,” he says. 

Spencer’s curse is that he probably knows why he feels sick, and he probably knows a hundred different remedies or medications or prayers to get rid of it, but nothing can get rid of this feeling. You can be the smartest man alive and you’ll never outfox grief. 

“Will you come in?” he asks.

You breathe a short, unbidden sigh of relief. He steps aside to let you in, and you gaze around at his shock of mess, books and blankets and furniture all in the wrong places, but it’s to be expected, and it doesn’t bother you beyond that empathetic hum of hurt tucked under your ribs. You approach his couch covered in books and put your tote bag atop them, turning to tell Spencer you’ll just quickly move these aside, and stopping dead when you see him. The door closed, his face pale, Spencer looks like everything is crumbling down around him. He looks horrified to have to watch, and he looks as sick as he’d confessed. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” you say, meaning it at its surface value. You’re sorry you were in a different country while he faced this alone. Beyond everything you’ve shared, you’re supposed to be his friend, and in a way you’ve let him down. “Please forgive me if you can, Spencer.” 

He nods tightly. 

“Let me move some of this stuff and we can sit down together, is that okay? Or do you need to go back to bed?” 

“It’s okay.” 

You do it without the grace his precious books deserve, lugging armfuls of them onto the floor, no time for tidying. You make spacious room for him and you, and your gesture gently for him to come and sit, fingers moving through the air slowly with the suggestion; he doesn’t have to listen if he doesn’t want to. 

What is it about you that Spencer would let you in before anyone else? That he’d sit and watch you until you sat down, that his shoulders relax ever so slightly when you settle, your thighs aligned? 

Maybe he needs someone who wasn’t there to watch it happen, and maybe you’re like family. You and Spencer may not be in love, but you love one another. Seeing him like this has you wishing you could fix it for him so keenly it’s like your hands are bruised. Pins and needles eat your fingers as you hold a hand to his elbow. 

“What can I do?” you ask, murmuring so as not to disturb the quiet room. 

“Nothing, I’m sorry. I don’t have anything for you to do, I just…” He squeezes his eyes closed. “I just wanted to see you. You’re the only person who– who–”

His voice lifts to a strangled high pitch as he covers his eyes with one hand. 

“Can I give you a hug?” you ask. 

He nods into his hand but doesn’t move. You have no qualms with making yourself big, wrapping him up, and guiding his hand away from his scrunched up face to hold you back. 

You’re pretty pristine with hugs, as they go. You’re a soft touch. So Spencer holds you tightly and you cradle the back of his head, aware that you’re not who he really wants to be hugging, but okay with it nonetheless. “I’m so sorry,” you say, mouth to the top of his head, your hand stroking with light touches against the nape of his neck. “Spencer, it’s not fair.” 

He starts shaking in your arms. 

“The only time I got to talk to her face to face was with a gun to her head,” he says, his eye hot where it’s squished to the bottom of your cheek. 

“Honey, you had something special,” you say, sort of guessing, because you had no idea Spencer was even talking to someone. Everything you know about the situation you learned from Hotch, but you can read from his level of distress how much she meant to him. “You don’t need to have been face to face to have shared something like that. Love is about connection, and I’m so sorry you don’t get to see her, but you– I’m sorry. You didn’t get all the time you deserved.” 

You’d been trying to say that it doesn’t matter if he saw her or not, that their relationship was just as real no matter what, but you know he’s not just mourning her, but the possibility of a life with her he won’t get now. 

“I tried everything I had to save her,” he says. 

“I know you did. Sometimes we can’t do anything. It’s not your fault.” 

He makes a low sound. He’s a quiet crier, sniffling and shaking against your neck. 

You love him. Finding out he had a girlfriend was like being stabbed in the chest, an instant sickness, but finding out that she died? To see him in this much pain cuts deeper than a split second of thinking he’d moved on. 

“You did everything you could. You did the best that you could. Spencer, you could’ve done everything right and she still wouldn’t have made it, because the world is cruel. This isn’t your fault.” 

“It’s always gonna be my fault,” he says. 

“No, it won’t be.” 

“It will! I’m like a curse, we all are.” 

You don’t know what to say. You consider offering placatives, but they’d be empty, and Spencer would know. Instead, you scratch a hand through his curls and try your best to be gentle. 

“Well, I’m here for you. I know you know you have a whole team of people who want to be there for you, but I mean it, Spence. You can tell me everything. I’m here for you and I’m not leaving again.” 

“You don’t have to go back?” 

“I’m staying here.” For as long as you need me goes unsaid. 

Spencer should rely on the kindness of all of his friends, and not just you. He needs love. Grief is going to eat him alive, just like it did with Emily; he’ll need everything from everyone, and, no offence to your friends and coworkers, you’re the most committed to giving it to him. 

“I never should’ve left,” you say quietly, “but things are different now. You’re my best friend, Dr. Reid.” Your tone turns more playful. “I don’t cook for just anybody, you know?” 

Maybe it’s a bit cringeworthy, but you really want him to stop crying. 

He laughs weakly and wetly into your collar. “I don’t think I can eat it. I just throw everything back up.” 

Aw, honey, you think. “How about a thin soup? I can make you something without any heavy creams. I make the best chicken soup around.” 

“Do you?” he asks. 

You want to kiss his cheek as you would’ve before you left, but things really are different now. You settle for patting his shoulder. “I do. We’ll have chicken soup, and some fresh bread, and– and you won’t have to pretend you aren’t miserable. Promise. You can be as sad as you want, honey, I just wanna sit with you and make sure it doesn’t get too much.” 

“Thank you,” he mumbles. 

“It’s okay.” You don’t want a thank you. “I’m glad to be home. Do you think you can get dressed? Let’s go get some stuff for dinner.” 

Spencer, to your relief, gets up to get changed without complaint. He checks you’re still on the couch a few times from the doorway of his room. You have no plans on straying far. 

[gilbertscurls]

Quiet of the Night ➵ Matt Sturniolo

summary: in the quiet of the night, Matt finally confesses his hidden feelings for his best friend, believing you're asleep.

The dim light from the bedside lamp cast a soft glow across the room, illuminating the quiet space where you and Matt lay side by side. It had been a long day, filled with laughter, teasing, and the kind of easy companionship that had come to define your friendship over the years. But now, as the evening had settled into a peaceful stillness, everything felt quieter. More intimate.

You were lying on your side, your back facing Matt as you curled up under the covers. Your breathing was slow and steady, a sure sign that you had drifted off into sleep. Matt, on the other hand, couldn’t sleep. He stared up at the ceiling, his mind buzzing with thoughts he couldn’t quite shake.

He glanced over at you, watching the way your hair fell softly over the pillow, your face relaxed in sleep. There was something about this moment that made his chest tighten, a feeling that he’d been trying to ignore for a long time. But now, in the quiet of the room, with you lying just inches away, it felt impossible to push down any longer.

He shifted slightly, propping himself up on his elbow as he looked down at you. His heart was pounding, and he wasn’t sure why—you couldn’t hear him. You were asleep. But still, the weight of what he was about to say felt heavy, like it carried more meaning than he was ready to admit.

Taking a deep breath, he whispered softly, “I don’t know why I waited so long to say this.”

The words felt foreign on his lips, as though he wasn’t sure they were meant to be spoken out loud. But now, with the quietness of the night wrapping around you, it felt like the only time he could say what had been on his mind for so long.

“I’ve been an idiot, haven’t I?” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “Pretending like I don’t feel something… More for you. Like it’s just easy being around you all the time, like I don’t notice the way everything feels different when you’re around.”

He glanced at you, almost expecting you to stir, but you remained still, your breathing deep and even.

“I didn’t think it would get this far,” Matt said softly. “At first, it was just us, you know? We’d hang out, mess around, and everything was simple. But now… Now it’s different. I look at you, and I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like if things were… If we were more than just friends.”

His heart was beating faster now, and he felt a knot tightening in his stomach. This wasn’t the kind of thing he could ever say to you while you were awake. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing your friendship, couldn’t handle the idea that confessing these feelings might make things awkward between you. But here, in the silence of the night, with you asleep beside him, it felt safe to admit the truth.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he whispered, the words falling from his lips before he could stop them. “And it scares the hell out of me.”

He stared at you, his heart aching with the weight of his confession. Part of him wished you could hear him, that you’d wake up and everything would somehow fall into place. But the other part of him was terrified. Terrified of what would happen if you knew, if things between you changed.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. “I don’t want to mess this up. I don’t want to lose you, but I can’t keep pretending that this doesn’t mean anything.”

He lay back down beside you, his body sinking into the mattress as he closed his eyes. “I just… I needed to say it. Even if you’ll never know.”

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was the soft rhythm of your breathing, and Matt felt a strange sense of relief wash over him. He had said it. He had finally told you, even if you would never hear the words. Maybe that was enough.

But then, in the quiet, something shifted.

“Matt?” Your voice was soft, barely more than a breath, but it sent a jolt of panic through him. His heart skipped a beat, and his eyes flew open as he realized you weren’t asleep after all.

You were lying still, your back still facing him, but your voice was unmistakable. You had heard everything.

Panic flooded through him, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what to say, how to backtrack, how to fix this before it spiraled out of control.

“I… I thought you were asleep,” he stammered, his voice shaky.

You didn’t move for a long moment, and the silence that followed was agonizing. He braced himself for the worst, for you to say something that would shatter everything between you.

But then you turned over, slowly, until you were facing him. Your eyes were wide and soft, your expression unreadable in the dim light. You studied him for a moment, your gaze searching his face as if trying to figure out if he was serious.

And then, finally, you whispered, “I was too scared to say it first.”

Matt’s heart nearly stopped.

“What?” he breathed, his voice barely audible.

You reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you rested it gently against his arm. “I didn’t know how to tell you either,” you admitted, your voice thick with emotion. “I thought… I thought I’d lose you if I said anything.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You just lay there, staring at each other in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, the weight of your unspoken feelings finally laid bare between you.

And then, slowly, Matt leaned in, his heart pounding in his chest as he closed the distance between you. When your lips finally met, it was soft and tentative, like both of you were afraid to break the moment.

But as you kissed, everything that had been unsaid for so long melted away, leaving only the truth behind.

When you finally pulled back, Matt rested his forehead against yours, his heart still racing but filled with a kind of peace he hadn’t expected.

“Guess we don’t have to pretend anymore, huh?” he whispered.

You smiled, your eyes shining as you looked at him. “No,” you murmured. “We don’t.”

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr

[verstappenverse]

Not Over Yet

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: In the heat of a painful argument, you declare that your relationship with Max is over, leaving him desperate to hold on.

1.3k words / Masterlist

The deafening silence of the Monaco apartment was suffocating. The echoes of the fight still rang in the air long after the words had been spoken. Max sat on the edge of the couch, his fingers gripping the fabric so hard his knuckles were white. You stood across the room arms wrapped tightly around yourself, as if trying to hold everything together.

“We’re over, Max.” The words hung heavy in the room, each one feeling like a stone dropped into a deep well.

He looked up, his blue eyes wide with shock and disbelief. “What?” His voice was low, barely above a whisper, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

You turned away from him, unable to face the hurt in his eyes. The hurt that mirrored your own. “I said, we’re done. I can’t—” You struggled to keep your voice steady. “I can’t keep doing this.”

The argument had started hours ago—something small, something insignificant that had spiralled out of control like it always did these days. The never-ending travel, the constant pressure. You knew what you were signing up for when you fell for him, but lately, it felt like everything else in your life had taken a backseat. There were always missed dinners, cancelled plans, and nights where you felt like the third wheel to his love affair with the track.

Max’s eyes hardened for a moment, his pride kicking in as he stood up and paced the length of the living room. “You think I don’t give enough to this relationship?” He snapped, his voice rising. “I work my ass off every day, trying to make sure we have everything. I’m always thinking of you, even when I’m on the track. I—”

“It’s not about the money or the success, Max!” you interrupted, your voice breaking. “It’s about us. About how I feel like I’m always second to everything else in your life. Like I’m not as important.”

Max stopped in his tracks, his back to you as he exhaled sharply. He raked a hand through his tousled hair, trying to calm his emotions. “That’s not fair,” he muttered, his voice quieter now, but still laced with frustration.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling the tears threatening to spill over. “What’s not fair is me feeling alone when you’re standing right next to me.”

He turned to face you, the anger in his eyes replaced with something softer. But it was too late. You couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. The weight of your decision pressed down on your chest, and you took a deep breath before you spoke again.

“We’re over,” you whispered. The finality in your voice made it feel real. “We have to be.”

Max’s face went pale. He took a step toward you, but stopped himself his hands twitching at his sides. He looked at you, really looked at you, for what felt like the first time in weeks. “You…you don’t mean that.”

“I do.” You choked on the words as soon as they left your lips. You didn’t mean it. Not really. But you couldn’t keep living in the shadows, couldn’t keep pretending like everything was fine when it wasn’t.

Max’s heart hammered in his chest the fear of losing you clawing at his throat. He had faced impossible races, gut-wrenching crashes, the pressure of the world’s expectations—but nothing compared to the panic that gripped him now. The thought of losing you, of truly being without you, was something he couldn’t handle.

He shook his head slowly, refusing to accept what you were saying. “No. No, we’re not over.”

You blinked back the tears, confused by the certainty in his voice. “Max, you can’t just—”

“I’m not letting you go,” he interrupted, his voice firm but low, almost pleading. “I know I’ve been…distracted. I know I haven’t been there the way I should. But you don’t get to decide we’re done. You can’t just give up on us. Not like this.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The apartment felt too small, too full of emotions that neither of you could control.

You felt your defences crumbling, your heart aching at the sincerity in his voice. But the hurt was still too raw. “It’s not that simple, Max.”

Max closed the distance between you in a few quick strides, his hands coming up to gently cup your face, forcing you to look at him. His touch was warm grounding you in a way only he could.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice softer now, desperate. “I know I’ve made mistakes. But I love you. You. You’re not second to anything. You never were. I’m an idiot for making you feel that way, but please…please don’t give up on us.”

You wanted to believe him, wanted to let the walls you had built around your heart crumble. But the fear was still there—the fear that things wouldn’t change, that this would be your life forever, always wondering if you were enough.

Max’s thumb gently brushed away a tear that had slipped down your cheek, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hope. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice cracking just slightly. It was rare to see Max like this, so raw, so open.

You closed your eyes trying to steady your breathing, trying to find the words to say. “Max, I just… I don’t know if I can keep going like this.”

He pulled you closer his forehead resting against yours as he took a deep, shaky breath. “Then tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix it. I’ll do anything.”

His words were sincere, and you could feel the desperation in his voice. It wasn’t like Max to beg, to be so vulnerable, and it only made your resolve weaken further.

“I don’t want us to be over,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t want to feel like I’m always competing for your attention either.”

Max pulled back slightly, his hands still gently holding your face as he looked into your eyes. “You’re not competing. I love what I do, but I love you so much more. There’s no competition.”

It was the first time he had ever said it so clearly, so bluntly and it took your breath away.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I forgot about what really matters. You. Us. I swear to you, I’ll do better. I’ll make time for us.”

His sincerity was undeniable, and for the first time in a long time you felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe things could change. Maybe you could find a way to make it work.

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch. “I don’t want to lose you either Max.”

Relief washed over his face and he pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you like he was afraid you might slip away if he let go. “You won’t. I promise you won’t.”

For a long moment you stayed there, wrapped in each other’s arms the weight of the fight slowly lifting as you both began to breathe a little easier. The future was still uncertain, and there would be more challenges ahead, but for now you were both willing to try.

And for the first time in a long time, it felt like the two of you were on the same team.

Max pulled back slightly, his lips brushing against your forehead. “We’re not over,” he said softly, as if he needed to hear it out loud.

You nodded, resting your head against his chest listening to the steady beat of his heart. “We’re not over.”

[lottiies]

ALL THAT GRACE, ALL THAT BODY

→ you wash the grime off your boyfriend’s body after he returns from a mission!!

CW: x gn!reader, fluff, established relationship, i think that’s it!!

WC: 800+

NOTE: i didn’t really imagine this with any leon in particular ˃ᴗ˂ just a short fic hehe i haven’t really written anything in a while…let there be no typos

MASTERLIST

Kissing and sex can be casual, in some cases. Hook up culture and games like seven minutes in heaven and truth or dare allow for them to be. In the heat of the moment, specks of unique imperfections are completely missed.

There is nothing casual, however, about the act of running your hands through someone’s skin and hair with the intent of cleaning them and nurturing them back to a better state. It’s the exact scene that played behind a particular shower curtain.

A chaste kiss was pressed against the mole on his neck, and another one landed on the healed up scar tissue on his shoulder. Steamy water washed away your gentle touches, leaving a blank canvas for you to adorn with affection over and over again.

For the most part, Leon didn’t speak much during this unless you voiced the thoughts in your head, he was too caught up in enjoying your caresses. The only think he requested was for there to be no talks about his missions and work while in the shower, he wanted to focus on you and not the hell he just returned from. Thankfully, he didn’t return too battered up this time. Just a couple nips and bruises, nothing fractured or broken like other unfortunate times.

His skin was already reddening just a tinge from the temperature, similar to the shade he turned whenever you littered gentle nips against his neck. But he always asked for the water to be turned up high, he was used to it. Before he met you he had felt so lonely and hot water had always been a comfort for him. Plus, colder water just reminded him of when he’d try to sober up after some drinks, terrible terrible times.

“You know the drill! Close your eyes for me.”

His eyelashes fluttered as he followed your instructions. Hands perched themselves on your hips so he wouldn’t lose his balance. You began threading your shampoo lathered palms and fingers through his hair, gently rubbing his scalp.

“Mm…” He purred contentedly, his tense shoulders relaxing. Leon was almost tempted to slump against you, would you hold him until the end of times? He’d like to think the answer is yes. “You should work in one of those uh…what’s the name? Those…head spa places? You’d put others out of business.”

“Yeah? Does it really feel that good?”

“Y’know, you ask me that every time, hell yes. Feels like my brain is turning to mush. Careful sweetheart, I might just topple over you.”

“Pfft.”

You pushed all his hair back. He looked otherworldly. One look at him, and no one would believe that he’s a man keeping the world safe with a mountain’s weight of survivor’s guilt on his shoulders. How could he look so tranquil?

It was no use, you shook the thought away. You’d ask him another time.

“It kinda pisses me off how good-looking you are.” You whisper to him, washing the residue of shampoo off your hands before cupping his face. Once upon a time, his cheeks had been more sunken in. But they had gotten fuller being in a relationship with you.

“When did you become such a flatterer?” He asked, the corner of his lips twitching into a smile. Just a subtle one.

“I dunno, maybe the moment I laid eyes on you.” You tug him more towards the water, washing away the shampoo from his hair as he lowered his head. “I’m pretty hard to please y’know…got really high standards.”

“No way I met all of them.”

“Passed with flying colors. You raised the bar a bit, actually. Think you’ve got me wrapped around your finger for eternity.”

With a washcloth, you cleaned the expanse of his skin, leaving it smelling faintly of rosemary. Your water bill is begging you to hurry your pace, but you went as slow as a snail.

Thank God he could finally open his eyes again, there was nothing he loved more than having his sight on you.

If only you could see yourself from his perspective. He saw everything. The way you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth while you did your best to wash around one of his wounds, you didn’t need to be so gentle with him but you were anyway, and the glimmer in your eyes when you took a brief peek at his face.

“Sorry, baby…” Your murmur was accompanied by a wince when you thought you rubbed too harshly. It felt like a tickle to him though, nothing more, and he reassured you of that.

One minute turned into five, then five into ten, then ten into fifteen. Ten of those minutes were dedicated to cherishing the body that belonged to the recipient of your adoration.

The white noise of running water came to an end with a twist of your wrist. He pulled you close, curling his fingers under your jaw as he leaned in to kiss your lips. It was a small token of appreciation for how tender you always were with him. Droplets from his hair fell onto you, for some reason it felt intimate. “Thanks…I feel as good as new.”

“You should get some shut eye after this, when’s the last time you slept?”

“Been a while.” God, he didn’t even remember. His assignment had been long and frankly he hadn’t had the luxury of resting.

Leon shook his head before scrunching his hair with a smaller towel that hung from the curtain rod, some of the water on his hair went flying.

“Bad dog!” You couldn’t help but giggle.

He shot you an amused huff. “Yeah yeah, my bad.”

Accepting love had been hard, but you were full of it and oh so willing to give it that Leon had grown to depend on you.

Maybe you and him were meant for one another.

[makethemhoesmad]

love you till my lungs give out

paige bueckers x reader

word count- 2k(lord)

notes: this fic was such a great write for me, as it focuses around eating disorders, which is something i’ve personally struggled with. i know this is a sensitive topic, so please, if this makes you uncomfortable, scroll away, or read at your own risk.

thanks to: literally the biggest thanks ever to @melpthatsme for dming me your idea and helping me work through it, i really could not have done this without you, so everyone thank them

also thanks to @imaginespazzi and @bueckersstrap for reacting to my random messages about this

—

the first time it happened, i barely realized i did it.

“paigey, my head hurts so bad right now. like, im gonna die right here,” i groan, hiding my face in the fabric of her hoodie, trying to lock out any stray amounts of light coming from the covered windows. she runs her hand through my hair, and starts to ever-so-gently massage my temples. i sigh in quiet relief, and then she tries to pull me up to lay on top of her.

“uh uh, paige, no,” i say. i try to shake my head at her, but a bolt of pain flies through me, forcing my head back down.

“jus’ tryna help you get comfy, ma,” she whispers, bundling me up in a blanket and pulling me back into her side. she moves her warm hands up and under my t-shirt, but i squirm about, complaining that they’re too cold, even though i’ve never felt anything more soft and warm, so she moves them back over my shirt. but i don’t notice it, not really. and neither does she.

the second time, i know what i did.

“so, what should we order to eat?” paige asks, scrolling on her phone for different options. 

“mm, what if i cooked here, for something different! i can make you a grilled cheese,” i joke, nudging her arm with my shoulder. “that’s all i know how to cook anyway.”

she giggles, standing up with me and following me to the kitchen. she hoists herself onto the counter, and watches me intently as i pull out the things for a sandwich. i grin at her, moving to step in between her legs and take her face in my hands. 

“you’re so cute,” i say, pressing a kiss to her nose. she hops off of the counter and follows me to the stove. paige is just too sweet to me sometimes. i’m cooking dinner for her, the least i can do, really, and she’s cozied up behind me, arms around my waist her hands are barely touching, she can barely fit them around me and her chin is resting softly on my shoulder. she’s pressing light pecks to whatever area she can reach, and i feel at peace, in the kitchen, for a few moments. then it stops.

“why aren’t you making one for yourself baby?” she asks, spinning me around to lean me against the countertop, forgetting her sandwich beside her.

“i’m feeling, um, nauseous,” i stutter, stumbling over the excuse. she lets me go, though she looks skeptical.

“cmon, just have a bite of mine then. baby, you really need to eat more, that’s probably why you haven’t been feeling very well lately.”

i allow her to feed me a small bite, then quickly use my fingers to silently add that to whatever else i ate today. i read somewhere that to lose weight, you need to burn more calories that you eat. tomorrow, i need to burn around 800. Well, 804 now. 

the third time, i think paige noticed something was up.

“ma, this is literally the fourth time you’ve said that you’re cold. just take my fucking hoodie, i’m actually begging you,” she pleads, taking it off and offering it up to me. i shake my head, again, and press myself further into her chest, rubbing my arms to try and make the goosebumps disappear. she pulls me into her, then moves her mouth to my ear.

“is everything okay baby? do you wanna go home?” she whispers, nuzzling my neck with her nose. i shrug, not wanting to make her leave if she wasn’t done chatting with people yet. she makes the decision for me, standing up and tugging me with her. her hand finds its way to the small of my back, and she guides me towards the door. i sway slightly as we stand, blood rushing to my head. i take it as my lack of protein, or anything really, catching up to me. she stops walking, lurching to grab me by both shoulders and bend to eye level with me.

“darling, i want you to be honest with me. what have you eaten today?” i shake my head, feeling my cheeks going red at the thought of her confronting me. i look down, trying to avoid eye contact with her as my eyes fill with tears. she wraps me up into a hug, planting a kiss to the top of my head. she pulls me to the car and helps me in, then climbs into her own door, but makes no move to turn the car on. instead she pulls out her phone and asks me “so, where do you wanna stop and pick up food on our way home?” 

“paige, i’m really not that hungry, just tired and need to be with you in bed for the night. can we please just go home?” 

she nods, but looks at me skeptically out of the corner of her eye. she must know that all i’ve eaten today is half an energy drink and a piece of gum. i’ll eat something with her tomorrow, i guess. we can go out to lunch together and then when she goes to the gym ill go on a run. then she’ll see that im okay.

the fourth time, or probably the fifth or sixth, really, i don’t notice it, so i don’t think she does either.

“cmere pretty,” paige mumbles, reaching her arms out to me from where she’s laying on the bed. i slowly move to lay next to her, but roll away when she tries to take my sweater off.

“hey, baby, what?” she whines, apparently frustrated by the lack of contact.

“i wanna leave it on, paigey,” i tell her, moving my hand into the waistband of her shorts.

“but i wanna see you, please baby,” i don’t like saying no to her, but this is one thing i very rarely back down on.

“uh uh, sorry. lemme taste you, though,” i respond, moving to tug her shorts down.

“nah, come and sit on my face, cutie.” she smirks at her own words, but i’m not laughing. i scramble off the bed, standing up to black spots in my vision. i stand still, squeezing my eyes shut to get rid of the feeling. i stay there for im not sure how long, when i feel strong arms loop around my shoulders and help me onto the bed. paige helps me lay down, placing my head in her lap, then starts to comb through my hair with her fingers. she doesn’t say anything, and i’m grateful for that. obviously, she just thinks im tired. she knows im okay.

this time, im sure she noticed. it would be hard not to.

i’ve just come home from a run to the gym, dripping in sweat. it’s part of my new routine. i jog a mile and a half to the gym, i walk on a stairmaster or inclined treadmill there, then run home. normally i leave when paige leaves for practice, and come home just as she’s getting home, if not a little before so i can shower before she gets here. today, i must’ve done a little too much, because by the time i walk in the door, my head is spinning. i walk into the kitchen, sitting down at the island and resting my head in my hands, trying to clear my vision. i don’t hear when the door opens.

“baby, are you okay?” i hear. i sit up quickly, startled, then put my head back down immediately, because my vision goes nearly dark again.

“mhm, just tired you know? just got back from a run.” 

“you’ve got to take a rest day sometimes, darling,” she coos, taking my face into her hands and pressing a kiss to my nose. i nod, knowing i won’t do it.

sometimes i don’t realize it, but she knows exactly what to do.

i’ve just finished cooking dinner, just some simple spaghetti and a salad. i place her bowl of noodles in front of her, then settle down with my salad. when i stand up to get a glass of water, then come back, i can’t help but notice she’s switched our bowls.

“paigey, could i, possibly, maybe, have my bowl back?” i ask, trying to seem lighthearted.

“oh, yeah, sure,” she answers, sliding it back towards me. but when i try to slide hers back, she stops me. 

“nah, you eat that too. seems like you forgot to serve yourself noodles, so ill go make myself a new bowl.” she stands up, but i scramble in front of the stove quicker, blocking her way. 

“why would you do that, when i made you a whole bowl? eat it,” i tell her, pointing back to the countertop. she lunges at me, lifting me easily and placing me on the countertop. why would she pick me up? she definitely thought i was too heavy. i bet she leaves after this. she drags her my bowl over, twirls a few noodles onto the fork, and begins to prod my mouth with it. 

“cmon honey, just a bite. it’s not like it’s poison, you literally just cooked it,” she presses. i start to shake my head, so she moves the fork and instead swoops in for a kiss. i return her advances eagerly. hoping it distracts her. she moves her head down, pressing open mouthed kisses to my neck, and my mouth falls open. i don’t realize she’s noticed that until she’s setting the forkful of food between my lips and lightly closing them.

“it’s one bite, ma. let’s get it eaten, then you can be done.” i chew, not really having the choice to run and spit it out. once i swallow, she beams at me.

“such a good girl, baby. i’m so proud of you.”

at some point, she wins

“come here now, baby,” paige demands, grasping me by the waist and yanking me in front of her. i’d been about to climb into the shower when she spotted me through the bathroom mirror, stripped down to nothing. she’d grabbed me, pulled me into my room, and positioned us in front of the full-length mirror to the side.

“you see how perfect you are? how pretty?” she mumbles into my ear. i let my eyes flutter shut as she snakes her hand down my body, stopping to circle her finger over my clit. a groan slips out from my lips, and she stops.

“alright, i want you to keep on looking right in the mirror, ma. want you to see how perfectly you take my fingers.” i writhe against her, trying to keep my eyes open and hold myself up at the same time. she plunges three fingers into me. i cry out, locking eyes with her in the mirror, she smirks, the same way she always does when drawing a climax from me. i go boneless. if she hadn’t been holding me so tightly, i would be on the floor.

“now can you see how amazing you are? you don’t gotta change anything about you, i’ll love you no matter what. you should stop listening to what others say, because people that love you, like me, want you, no matter what you look like. i, personally, think you’re perfect. i’ll love you till the day my lungs give out, and even then, i’ll use my last breath to say it again.”

after that, it happens less often. some days, i still forget to eat, and some days even looking at a scale makes me want to throw up. but paige is always there. she’s always there to hold me, or help me eat just a little bit, or to help me lay down and relax after i’ve panicked so hard ive puked into the toilet. one day, looking at her from across the couch, i realize that when she told me she’d love me no matter what, she was telling the truth.

[radio-fmm]

Dear Luffy… what?!

Luffy x fem!reader

1.6k words, fluff confession, gendered terms such as ‘woman’

!This is a part 2! Sanji found your love letter to Luffy and now everyone knows you like your Captain

Pt.1 | Masterlist

It had been a week since Sanji had found your letter, and somehow things got worse. Everyone on the ship knew about your crush by now, everyone except from the one that should be more concerned about it. The strawhats lived for gossip

Every glance, smile and compliment you’d share with your Captain as you both usually did, was accompanied with giggles, teases and whispers from your crewmates, making you nervous to even breath near Luffy in fear they’ll say something out of place loud enough for him to notice

Even your time alone was disturbed by them trying to convince you to confess to the clueless strawhat boy

“I’m sure he likes you too!”, “It’s not that big of a deal”, “Just go and tell him already!”

As encouraging they were being, it didn’t simmer your nerves, it made them grow bigger and bigger turning you into an anxious mess

Of course your time with Luffy was cut short thanks to your noisy friends; the fun games, fondness and entertaining conversations you’d used to share with him long gone, replaced with you just sulking around the ship and hiding from everyone

Soon enough they’ll either forget or lose interest in the matter

Right?

At this reate, Franky should install a loud very incorrect buzzer on the ship

All of this horrendous energy was getting to you, not only were you feeling frustrated and hopeless; since no longer getting your daily dose of Luffy, your lack of sunlight had your patience running alarmingly low. Consequently, you were feisty. No one could approach, look, ask, or even talk to you without your reaction being blown so out of proportion that it ended on you screaming at them

Today’s victim? Zoro

“Can you move your weights for a sec? I need to mop”

“Can’t” he answered quickly, grunting as he flexed his arms mid push up

“Just put them aside real quick” you were keeping your calm, already growing annoyed

“Do it yourself woman”

Uh oh

Zoro genuinely didn’t mean to sound so condescending and rude, usually you knew this was just the way he talked to everyone, you just had too much going on. The argument got so heated that it had the whole ship witnessing the whole ordeal around both, like a street fight club. You were red, cheeks puffed and up on your tip toes screaming at the swordsman like he couldn’t just cut you in half any moment now

“Can’t you just be nice for one second?!”- heads immediately turn- “Can you stop being a total jerk?!”- eyes widened- “Grow some brains first and I’ll consider it”- gasps bounce around the deck- “What about growing some balls and confess to Luffy already?”

Silence

Deafening silence doesn’t even begin to describe this silence. It’s a heavy one, laced with panic, regret and fear.

Your heart beats loud and then drops to your stomach, suddenly feeling nauseous as a hand flies to your mouth. Zoro’s eyebrows jump and sweats profusely

He fucked up

All eyes on you then on the Captain, who’s face you can’t even turn to look at right now, only focused on the embarrassment that was choking you. Embarrassing, so fucking embarrassing. The most dreaded emotion, you hated it to the core, you most rather Zoro cut your chest and throw you out into the open ocean of the Grand Line before feeling this

It’s been a while and no one has dared to speak. A giggle then breaks the freezing moment, melting it completely in its warmth as it slowly builds into joyful laughter

“Good one Zoro!” Luffy comments and it somehow feels like a punch to the gut, even if it’s just him being honest

Nami then curses at her Captain, manicured hand pushing him in pure disbelief

“What? It’s not like I didn’t know”

Silence. Everyone is surprised you haven’t fainted by now

Ussop then joins the navigators side “What? You knew this whole time?”

Finally, with all the remaining strength in your body you turn, slowly, eyes meeting as you drown in too many emotions flowing inside of you

“Hehe yeah!” The Captain smiles, ever so sweetly and you actually taste your breakfast in your mouth

You turn to Zoro, helpless

“I’m sorry” he mutters, genuinely ashamed

But you don’t answer, the only sound being heard being your boots stomping on the hard wood of The Sunny as you leave, tears peeking, and then, a door being slammed

It’s been a while since you had sobbed like this. You didn’t even knew why you were even crying anymore, the last week had been hell for you. You felt bad for snapping at Zoro and being a total ass to the whole crew; you felt so stupid for crying at something that could be resolved by talking and you hated yourself for not giving yourself grace

Because it’s ok to feel too much

It was comical how different you were from Luffy in that sense. Yes you were confident, adventurous and a loyal friend, but you were also reserved, shy and very sensitive. Your Captain was actually very emotionally intelligent, he knew exactly how to identify his emotions and navigate them, but you? It felt like being pushed into the sea without a motive or direction

You were too tender for a pirate, but again, there’s no shame in that

After a deserved lengthy crying session, you wiped yours tears and allowed yourself to take a big breath in. Suddenly, it didn’t felt as bad anymore. You opened your bedroom door and decided to go and wash your face to clear up to then apologize for exploding like you did. Again, embarrassment creeped up on you but you shrugged it off

It’s ok to feel. You reminded yourself on the mirror before leaving

The deck of The Sunny was weirdly quiet, no sign of anyone relaxing or in light conversation. Quickly you notice the familiar strawhat of your Captain and can’t help but smile a little, you had missed him this last week

“Hey Luf” you greet sweetly making him turn, a trace of a scowl leaving his features now replaced by worry, his arms shoot up unexpectedly and wrap around you before pushing you into a big hug, he speaks your name in almost relief making your heart skip a beat

“Oh I was so worried about you!, are you still mad?” His worry makes you feel guilty

“I was never mad at you Luf, or actually anyone… I was just really stressed out” you explain as you slowly melt into his embrace, warmness spreading trough your tired limbs as you feel a smile forming on Luffy’s lips

“I scolded them” your eyes wide slightly and your eyebrows jump

“Really?”

“Usopp told me what was going on and it just wasn’t ok” he tenses, as if the memory of it all makes him uncomfortable

A gentle sigh lefts your lips, leaving the tight hug you were enveloped in to face the man before you

“Thank you Luffy, but I also messed up, I shouldn’t have snapped like that” he shakes his head

“It’s understandable, you were under so much stress didn’t you?”. His understanding was something so foreign to you, his emotional maturity showing, butterflies in your belly going wild

He pulls another smile out of you before he pulls you in once again almost crushing you, it almost felt apologetic

But there was still, the elephant in the room

“So… you knew” it’s all you can muster up to say. Luffy then lets you go completely making a slight pout appear on your face at the motion. He looks a little bashful? you can’t really tell because it’s an emotion you had never related to him before

He scratches the back of his neck “Yeah… you always spend time with me and treat me differently than everyone else, and you make my heart beat so fast! It was obvious”

You don’t really know how to feel about his statement, you were obvious yet he just accepted it?. Your face becomes redish by the moment, feeling embarrassed but a different kind of embarrassed, thus one didn’t made you feel terrible

“Why didn’t you say anything?” your hands drop to play with the hem of your shirt as you waited expectantly, repeating his small hint of reciprocity in your head as comfort at the moment

“Because you never acknowledged it and I didn’t wanna push ya’”

Of course

Suddenly you feel a giggle bubble in your stomach and it hits Luffy’s ears, making him smile widely

“You’re such an idiot” your hands cover your face, the warmth of your cheeks engulfing them

“Also thought I’d pass out if I said a thing, you make me nervous” Luffy thought if he kept confessing this kind of stuff, you would keep laughing, and he adores when you do

“What?!”- you are a fit of giggles at this point. “Me? making you? nervous?!”

You both laugh, and it’s just so endearing, the moment so sugary sweet you fear you’ll have a toothache. Suddenly you are being pulled again, this time by your arms making your soft lips land on top of Luffy’s pillowy ones. You yelp in surprise but immediately ease into it, fitting in his frame like you were meant to be after all

Your tooth aches

Your Captain then looks at your puppy eyes and grins “Wanted to do that for a while now”

After a much needed kissing session to soothe you. Luffy made everyone on the ship apologize to you, one by one (except for Chopper, he never dared tease you) before making it known how much he really really loved you

Like it wasn’t obvious enough

tag list: @guinea-pig16 @cosywinterevenings @angieslove06 @rafis03

Ty for the love on the first part 🥹

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Can you do Conrad with ‘’Is that my shirt?’’

This was the only gif I could find with this shirt...

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

It had been thirty minutes since you, Taylor, and Belly settled in front of the TV, yet the three of you couldn't come to a unanimous decision on which movie to watch. Well, truth be told, the indecision was mainly between you and Taylor. Belly was happily munching on popcorn, seemingly unfazed by the movie debate.

‘’Mamma Mia,’’ Taylor exclaimed, advocating for the musical movie choice once again.

However, you were quite tired of musicals and Taylor's less-than-perfect singing renditions, especially after enduring La La Land the night before. 

You shook your head. ‘’No, let’s watch 10 Things I hate about you.’’ 

It was one of your favorite movies. You weren’t a huge fan of rom-coms, but the romance was not too cheesy and the soundtrack was immaculate. Kat’s character was also iconic. You’ll never get tired of watching it.

But Taylor persisted, insisting that Mamma Mia would be a perfect summer movie. She looked to Belly for support and the look on Belly’s face told you you were about to lose this debate.

‘’I haven’t watched Mamma Mia in a long time…’’ 

Feeling somewhat defeated, you let out a sigh, realizing you were outvoted. ‘’Mamma Mia it is then,’’ you reluctantly agreed.

Taylor happily set up the movie, grinning and singing along to all of the songs. 

You were half way through it when the front door opened and the boys returned from their party, making a lot of noises as always. 

‘’Seriously, can you guys keep it down? We're trying to watch a movie here,’’ Taylor scolded them, clearly irritated by their untimely return.

‘’What movie?’’ Steven asked, making his way into the living room, seemingly eager to pester Taylor further.

‘’Oh, is that Mamma Mia?’’ Jeremiah’s face lit up, going off and belting one of the songs as he poured himself a glass of milk in the kitchen. 

You couldn't help but laugh at Jeremiah's enthusiasm. He truly was the life of the party. 

‘’It’s girls only, get out,’’ Taylor asserted, determined to keep their movie time uninterrupted.

‘’I want to watch it too,’’ Steven and Jeremiah protested, plopping themselves on the couch next to Belly and attempting to snatch the popcorn bowl from her.

‘’Absolutely not,’’ Belly retorted, holding onto the popcorn tightly, not willing to share.

Steven's attempt to mockingly tease her was met with a sharp comeback from Taylor. ‘’Did you grow tits while you were at the party, Steven?’’ 

Everyone burst into laughter at Taylor’s witty remark, even Conrad who just entered the living room, walking over to the other end of the couch where you were sitting. 

He sat on the length of the chaise, stroking your bare legs as he leaned in for a quick kiss. 

‘’Did you have fun with the boys?’’ you asked, your attention no longer on the movie.

Conrad shrugged. Being the designated driver sucked…and so did that party. No wonder they came home so early. He would have prefered to stay here and hang out with you, but you had already made plans with the girls. 

You stretched and laid your legs over his lap, settling comfortably into the couch. Conrad shook his head, but didn’t say anything. He liked the weight of your legs over his, the casual intimacy of it. 

Your attention was brought back to your friends when Jeremiah and Taylor began dueting ‘Lay all your love on me’ as if they were part of the movie. Taylor still couldn’t sing, but Jeremiah wasn’t too bad. You smiled at them, amused by their antics, and Conrad smiled back at you, his eyes full of affection as his fingers traced gentle patterns on your skin. 

A few scenes later, his attention was drawn to the navy Cousins rowing shirt you were wearing, and he raised an amused eyebrow. ‘’Is that my shirt?’’ he inquired with a grin, realizing it belonged to him.

You hummed. It was slightly oversized on you, but incredibly comfortable. ‘’We went swimming and I wanted something comfortable to wear after.’’ And it smelled like him. ‘’I hope you don’t mind.’’ 

Conrad shook his head. ‘’It looks good on you.’’

—

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05��@rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @marzipaanz  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3  @Heartsforneteyamsully  @aerangi  @hallecarey1  @bxbyyyjocelyn @mikeyspinkcup

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[ervotica]

strange fascination

warnings: dark!ellie williams + dark!abby anderson x reader, noncon, DARK, smut (18+ only), threesome, ellie refers to her strap as a ‘cock’, drugging, tribbing, throat fucking, almost somno, r is fucked with a strap, cunnilingus, fem!reader, 1.5k words

kinktober masterlist

It’s slow at first; the way the world slowly starts to tip on its axis. Your vision swims, halted still only by Abby’s hulking presence in front of you on the ragged couch. You sniff and bat away the blunt in her hand, though your movements are disjointed, like your limbs are filled with molasses, heavy and sticky. One of her thick, calloused hands coasts the length of your arm, an action which would soothe you under normal circumstances. But you don’t feel right.

It’s an uneasiness settled in the pit of your stomach, a churning for which the cause is undetermined.

“Abby,” you mumble; your voice won’t stretch any further.

“Yeah, hon’?”

The door to your shabby one bedroom apartment creaks; your heart ticks, loud in your own ears.

You regain some awareness as Ellie latches the door shut and comes to crouch in front of you on the couch watching amusedly as you tilt your head, legs dangling from the edge of the worn fabric.

“Hi, gorgeous,” she smiles, all teeth and dimples. It’s unlike her to be so chipper.

You’re frowning. You don’t realise you’re even doing it before Ellie’s reaching a slender hand out and smoothing the creases in your forehead out.

“She’s quiet.”

You almost answer before you realise she’s not speaking to you.

The bigger girl’s hand settles on the back of your neck and squeezes. She taps your chin, settling the blunt between your lips once more.

“Have some more, baby.”

You cough and gag around the paper, trying to expel the smoke from your lungs even as the two girls encourage you to take more of it in. By the time she lets up, you’ve slumped, glassy eyed against Abby’s side.

You’d never noticed how she towers above you before now; you’ve never felt so small, so vulnerable in her presence, even more so with the other girl to your left. Ellie’s sidled in now she knows you’re still and compliant, the very point of her nose nudging at your jugular with a fervour you haven’t seen before. She nips at your earlobe and you squirm.

“No, stop,” you slur through your honey sticky mouth and slack jaw. “Don’t wanna.”

“Lift her for me, Abs,” Ellie murmurs; her voice suddenly has an edge that makes you uneasy. You moan in protest, too far away to form any words, let alone stop them. Abby’s fingers curl around the back of your neck, drawing you up and into her chest, her other hand against your bum as she lifts you into her lap.

“I know, honey,” she coos, breathless between rough kisses and nips to your exposed neck. “You wouldn’t let us take care of you sober. You should’ve made it easy for yourself. Silly girl.”

Your eyes grow hot and well, tears gathering at your waterline. How could your best friends do something like this to you? Cold hands grope at your ass, Ellie’s fingers fumbling with the button on your jeans and tugging the taut material down your legs.

“Oh, fuck,” she moans. “You’re so hot, baby.”

You grow hot and clammy with nausea. Your eyes feel like they’ve been superglued shut as you blink, peeling your eyelashes from each other.

“We’re losing her, Ellie,” Abby murmurs, undeterred in her mission to free your tits from your tank top. When they spill free, she twists a nipple meanly and grunts.

“‘S okay,” the slender girl laughs, “Don’t need her awake for this part.”

Your head falls limp, dead weight on Abby’s shoulder as she wrestles the tank top up and over you; she balls it up in her fist, discards it on the floor somewhere. Despite your weakness, you’re painfully aware of what they’re doing to you. You’re a prisoner in your own body.

You’re slumped against the muscular girl somewhat unceremoniously, eyes forced shut as Ellie finally pulls your panties aside to get a good look at your dripping cunt.

“Little whore is a liar!” She grins, triumphant. “She’s fuckin’ soaked. You like it.”

You can’t so much as lift your head to answer. Ellie draws your hips back and pushes between your shoulder blades to create a beautiful arch. You feel her thumbs against the crease of your cunt, spreading your petal soft lips to reveal your dripping hole.

“Attagirl, knew you wanted this,” Ellie murmurs.

Your mind goes blank as two of her fingers disappear, engulfed by your swollen lips. “So wet.”

You want to cry and scream and push them away but no movement will come from your body. Abby hooks her hands under your armpits and lays you flat on the couch.

“Don’t be greedy,” she snaps. “I wanna feel her pussy.”

She crouches, dragging your bare lower half until you’re hanging over the lip of the couch with your legs firmly settled over her shoulders. Her biceps bulge where they’re curled round your thighs.

She wastes no time in licking a broad, flat stripe up the entire expanse of your cunt, nosing at your clit and inhaling deeply.

“Fuck, she tastes good.”

Pleasure lights your every nerve ending on fire despite your protests to the situation. If you could kick her, you would.

She eats you out like she’s been starved of it her entire life, slaking her thirst on the almost constant drooling of your cunt. Despite your limited movement, you’re drawing to your peak with a weak cry, the coil drawing tight in your abdomen until Abby slips two fingers into your fluttering hole and you snap.

She grins like she’s the one going mad with pleasure and Ellie, who was previously pinching and twisting at your nipples until they darkened and swelled, dives forward to kiss you.

You lift a wrist in protest and can’t do much else in your current predicament; her tongue invades your limp mouth, your lips numb as hers glide over them. She pulls away gasping.

“Gonna put my cock in you, sweet girl.” She heaves a breath, unbuttoning her own jeans to reveal the silicone strap at her pelvis. You’re like a fish out of water, squirming and choking back a sob as you try to push her away. Abby hooks an arm under your back and you slump, eyes rolling as the effects of the drugs only increase.

The muscular girl sits and spreads her thighs on the couch to situate you with your back to her chest. Ellie looms, menacing over your helpless body as she drags the tip of her strap through your cunt, catching it on your still sensitive button.

When she pushes in you think you black out. Her forehead beads with sweat, nose inches from yours and breath hot as she immediately locates your sweet spot and pummels it with a force you’re not used to. It’s bruising on your cervix, painful in a way that only increases the pleasure they’re forcing onto you.

Abby reaches forward to tweak at your trembling clit, her other hand clasped firmly around your throat as your head lolls against her shoulder with every thrust.

Your body seizes as white hot pleasure shoots through you; you’re frozen with it, limp as an orgasm unlike any one you’ve ever felt before rips through you.

Your eyes flutter closed with a small cry as Ellie pulls out, spreading your lips as your hole gapes and shrinks at the absence of the strap.

Abby throws you to the side as though you’re useless as she strips herself of her bottom half of clothes; once she’s bare, she’s lifting your thighs to slot her own between them, her clit bumping against yours. It burns, the way she rubs against you so forcefully, still raw and swollen from the last two orgasms the girls have pulled from your slack body.

“Make her suck it,” she grunts, motioning for the slender girl to open your mouth. Ellie does just that, prying your lips open to feed her strap, slick and wet with your juices, down your throat.

Your throat bugles at the intrusion; you gag softly around it, and then with more force as you realise she’s not letting up.

“Fuckkk, look at her face!” Abby moans, pressing her clit to yours even harder as she creeps up on her peak.

Your eyes grow heavier as your vision blacks out at the edges; Ellie only pushes deeper into your throat, thumb pressed to the protrusion it makes.

Abby’s thighs tremble around your own and she soaks you, white knuckled where she’s clutching your knees.

You retch and gurgle around Ellie with one final fight to pull away before she takes pity on you. The spit that’s pooled at the corners of your mouth starts to leak down your face.

“That’s enough.” Abby’s tone is final.

The two girls retreat and pull on their clothes so fast you’d think they were being chased. Ellie crouches next to your ruined body and tips your chin up. You vaguely register a glob of spit hitting you in the face.

“Fuckin’ whore,” she spits. Abby’s eyes darken.

“Have some fuckin’ respect, Williams. Let’s go.”

They leave you there, passed out in a puddle of cum and drool, naked and exhausted.

They’ll be back before you know it.

[igotfatter]

Here’s a series im starting called “ real life stories about my fat ass ex” due to popular demand.

Please note: I am not a writer and I am severely dyslexic, I am trying my best to give you guys a cohesive story with no spelling errors . ALSO we are no longer together. It was an awful break up. but I would want the stories too if I saw the transformation and I owe you all something, so I’m gonna give you what I got periodically. I’ll try to attach a few photos.

A big 410lbs

There are a few pretty hot stories I haven’t really shared before. One of the best examples of his narcissism (he’s my ex, and no matter what, he’s always going to be a narcissist to me) is when our scale didn’t go past 400 pounds. He never weighed himself regularly, but I could tell even he was starting to get nervous about his weight. He was clearly outgrowing his clothes, yet he stuck to the same brand every day. I couldn’t tell at first that he was going up in size because he kept replacing his shirts with bigger ones. However, he couldn’t replace his work shirt, and eventually, his belly got so big that he had to wear his own personal shirt underneath. That’s when I started really noticing how much weight he was gaining.

The best part, I swear, was like something straight out of fate. I’d never noticed it before, but in the building next to ours, there was this industrial scale just sitting there. It ended up being the building’s recycling scale, but it was there for anyone to use. (It was as random as im making it sound). At first, I didn’t go down there with him, but he was so excited when he weighed 410 pounds. I thought, “Really, babe? You sure about that?” It had been a while since our home scale broke, but the only joy I got from his weight sexually was observing and enabling, (in our four year relationship we had sex one time that’s where we were at ) so if he wasn’t concerned, I wasn’t going to be concerned.

What I later realized was that his “weight loss journey” was just keeping the scale from going up. As long as the number didn’t change, he could keep ordering Uber Eats while never leaving his recliner. I absolutely loved this man 80% of the time , but if I brought up his eating habits or simply walking downstairs or to the door because I was busy doing something, he became a different person if I was not serving him. And all honestly in a messed up way, I kind of got off on the domination. I accepted that his life choices were his to make, and I wasn’t going to trying to save him from himself. That’s when I decided to just love him for who he was, even if he claimed he wasn’t gaining any weight… fine.

Over the next six weeks, he went from kind of trying to limit his Uber Eats orders and making “butter dogs” (packs of hot dogs fried in lard that he snacked on throughout the day) to back to ordering Uber Eats four times a day, constantly eating in total gluttony. I noticed his clothes were fitting even worse, and he started having trouble with basic hygiene in the bathroom. I thought, “Either I’m losing my mind or something’s up.” So, after a particularly bad hygiene issue, I went down with him to the recycling scale.

This guy, who is truly brilliant when it comes to book smarts, didn’t realize that when the dial on the scale stopped at 410 pounds, it was because the scale didn’t go any higher. He had long blown past 410, That’s when we finally got a bigger scale for the house. And he was just over 500lbs

(Photo of him, making the butter dog with the shirt underneath the work)

[srslyblvck]

destined heart, five hargreeves [requested]

pairing: five hargreeves x gn!reader

synopsis: You and Five hated each other, everyone knew that. You both bickered like children. So what happens when he’s injured?

genre: fluff

warnings: blood, injuries

word count: 1.7k

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ YOU ALWAYS THOUGHT FIVE was an insufferable jerk. From the moment you met him at the Commission, he got under your skin like no one else. He was arrogant, always had a sharp retort, and acted like he was the only one who knew what he was doing. Unfortunately, he often did. But that didn’t make him any less intolerable. The two of you bickered constantly, throwing insults like daggers, yet when it came to missions, you were unstoppable. The IT duo, they called you. A title that, though you would never admit it, you wore with some twisted pride.

But outside of work? It was a different story. Every moment spent together was a clash of wills, a battle of egos that never seemed to end. You were convinced you hated him, and you were sure he felt the same.

But no matter how much you bickered, you both knew how to get the job done. And that’s what mattered—until it didn’t.

This mission should’ve been routine—track down Cha Cha, take her out, and get back to HQ. But it went horribly wrong. She had the upper hand from the start, and before you knew it, the mission turned into a fight for survival.

You were panting, trying to catch your breath as you glanced around to make sure Cha-Cha was truly gone. A smirk tugged at your lips as you turned to Five, ready to throw out a snarky comment about his reckless fighting style. “Honestly, Five, if you keep fighting like that, I might—"

Your words died in your throat when you saw him. He was hunched over, one hand pressed to his stomach, blood seeping through his fingers. His face was pale, a sheen of sweat on his brow, and his usual sharp eyes were dulled with pain.

“Dammit, Five!” you cursed, rushing to his side. You dropped to your knees beside him, ignoring the way he tried to push you away.

“I’m fine,” he muttered through gritted teeth, his voice tight with pain. “It’s nothing. I can deal with it when I get home.”

“Shut up,” you snapped, swatting his hand away from the wound to assess the damage. He winced as you touched the area, and you could feel him trembling. “You’re barely able to stand, Five. Stop being an idiot.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you didn’t give him the chance. “I said, shut up,” you repeated, your tone leaving no room for discussion. You weren’t about to let him die on you just because of his stubborn pride.

With no time to waste, you slipped your arm around his waist, helping him up. He was heavier than you expected, and you could feel the strain as you supported his weight. His breathing was labored, and you could tell he was barely holding on.

Your place was the closest, so you half-carried, half-dragged him there, praying you’d make it in time. By the time you reached your door, Five was barely conscious, his body leaning heavily against yours. You managed to get him inside, laying him down on your bed as gently as possible.

“I’ll be right back,” you murmured, rushing to grab your first aid kit. When you returned, Five’s eyes were half-closed, his breathing shallow. Panic tightened your chest, but you forced yourself to focus. You couldn’t lose him—not like this.

You carefully unbuttoned his shirt, trying not to cause him more pain. As you worked, you heard a faint voice from him, barely more than a whisper. “We haven’t even kissed yet, and you’re already undressing me.”

A blush crept up your cheeks, but you didn’t let it distract you. “Shut up,” you said softly, refusing to look him in the eyes. You couldn’t afford to get distracted now.

The wound was deep, just missing his ribcage. You cleaned it as best as you could, working quickly to stop the bleeding and bandage him up. Every few seconds, you glanced at his face, his sickly pale complexion making your stomach twist with fear. Five was never this quiet, never this still. It scared you more than you wanted to admit.

Finally, the wound was bandaged, and you breathed a small sigh of relief. But you knew he wasn’t out of the woods yet. You needed to keep him warm, to make sure he didn’t go into shock. You remembered the sweater he had left at your place—one you had planned to burn out of spite.

You found it quickly, bringing it back to him. With careful hands, you slipped it over his head, guiding his arms into the sleeves as gently as you could. He didn’t complain, didn’t make any snarky comments, and that scared you even more.

Once he was settled, you sat beside him, checking his pulse to make sure he was still alive. It was faint, but it was there. You stared at his face, so pale and unlike the Five you knew. The urge to protect him, to keep him safe, overwhelmed you.

Your mind wandered to Cha-Cha, the one who had done this to him. Rage bubbled up inside you, cold and fierce. You were going to make her pay for what she’d done. No one hurt Five and got away with it. No one.

You stayed by Five’s side until his breathing evened out, and his face regained a bit of color. The bleeding had stopped, and his pulse, though weak, was steady. Relief washed over you, but it was tinged with something darker—an insatiable need for vengeance. Cha-Cha had crossed a line, and you weren’t about to let that slide.

Gently, you slipped a glass of water onto the side table beside him, making sure he had everything he needed before you stood. He was still unconscious, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. For a moment, you allowed yourself to pause, your eyes tracing the sharp angles of his face—the stubborn line of his jaw, the curve of his lips. It was strange seeing him like this, so vulnerable and quiet, without that usual sarcastic edge that made you want to throttle him.

Without thinking, your hand reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. The soft contact made your chest tighten, a feeling you weren’t prepared for.

You quickly pulled your hand back, your brow furrowing as reality crashed down on you. What the hell were you doing? This was Five Hargreeves, your so-called enemy, the person who drove you insane with every word that came out of his mouth. You were supposed to hate him.

Shaking the unsettling feeling off, you straightened up, steeling yourself. There was no time for this, no room for confusion. You had a job to do, and you needed to focus. With one last glance at him, you turned away and left, determination hardening in your chest. It was time to finish this.

The streets were dark as you moved through the shadows, your steps silent but purposeful. You knew where Cha-Cha was hiding; she wouldn’t have gone far, confident in her victory. That confidence would be her downfall.

You found her in an abandoned warehouse, just like you expected. She was cleaning her weapons, humming a tune to herself as if she hadn’t just tried to kill you both. Rage flared in your chest, but you kept it in check, focusing on the task at hand.

“You should’ve stayed down,” Cha-Cha’s voice echoed in the empty space as she noticed you. She didn’t seem surprised, just mildly annoyed. “But I guess I’ll have to finish the job.”

“Not if I finish you first,” you shot back, your voice cold as ice.

She lunged at you, and the fight began. It was brutal and unrelenting, both of you pushing each other to the limit. You dodged her blows with practiced ease, your movements sharp and precise. But she was strong, stronger than you remembered, and every hit she landed sent shockwaves of pain through your body.

You fought through it, every ounce of your being focused on one goal: making her pay. The sound of metal clashing against metal filled the air as you parried her attacks, your heart pounding in your chest. She was relentless, but so were you.

The fight dragged on, your body aching with exhaustion, but you refused to give in. Cha-Cha was grinning now, enjoying the challenge, but you could see the cracks forming in her facade. She was tiring too, her movements slowing just a fraction.

That was all you needed.

With a burst of speed, you managed to disarm her, sending her weapon clattering to the ground. Her eyes widened in surprise, but you didn’t hesitate. You slammed your fist into her face, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone beneath your knuckles. She staggered back, blood pouring from her nose, but she didn’t fall.

“You’re tougher than I thought,” she gasped, wiping the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand. “But it won’t be enough.”

She reached for a hidden knife, but you were faster. You closed the distance between you, grabbing the knife from her hand and driving it into her side. Cha-Cha let out a choked gasp, her eyes wide with shock as she stumbled backward.

“This is for Five,” you hissed, twisting the knife.

Cha-Cha crumpled to the ground, her blood pooling around her as her breaths became shallow. You stood over her, your chest heaving with exertion, but you didn’t feel victorious—just cold. You watched as the life drained from her eyes, the fight leaving her body until she was nothing more than a lifeless corpse.

It was over.

You pulled the knife from her body, wiping the blood on her jacket before sheathing it. You were covered in blood, your clothes stained with it, but you didn’t care. You had done what needed to be done.

As you walked back home, the adrenaline began to wear off, leaving you with a bone-deep exhaustion. You barely registered the stares of those you passed on the street, too focused on putting one foot in front of the other. By the time you reached your door, you were practically on autopilot.

The apartment was quiet when you entered, the only sound the faint rustling of the curtains as a breeze blew through the open window. You made your way to your room, where Five was now awake, sitting up in bed and drinking the glass of water you had left for him.

He froze when he saw you, the glass halfway to his lips. His eyes widened, taking in the sight of you—your face speckled with blood, your clothes drenched in it. “What the hell happened?” he demanded, his voice sharp with concern.

You met his gaze, your expression unreadable. “It’s not mine,” you replied nonchalantly, brushing past him to set the bloody knife on the table.

Five’s eyes narrowed, his concern deepening. “Then whose is it?” he asked, his tone more cautious now.

You waved him off, not wanting to talk about it. “It’s nothing,” you muttered, heading for the bathroom. “I’m going to take a bath.”

Five watched you go, clearly bewildered, but too tired to press further.

When you emerged from the bathroom, your hair damp and a towel draped over your shoulders, you found Five trying—and failing—to stand up. He was clearly still weak, but the stubborn idiot was determined to move around on his own.

You scoffed, knowing how futile his efforts were going to be. “Seriously, Five? You’re not going to make it two steps.”

As if to prove your point, you saw him lose his balance out of the corner of your eye. Without thinking, you sped over to him, catching him just before he could fall. Your arms wrapped around him, holding him steady, and you couldn’t help the exasperation in your voice as you snapped, “You’re such an idiot, you know that?”

Five grumbled something under his breath, but you cut him off with a glare. “No, shut up. You’re not moving until you’re better. I’m not dragging your sorry ass around the house.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re not my mother.”

“And, thank God for that,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “If I were, I’d have kicked your ass a long time ago.”

Five smirked, despite his obvious discomfort. “And I’d have run away ages ago.”

“Well, aren’t you the rebellious type,” you muttered sarcastically, settling back down beside him.

Five glared at you, though it lacked his usual bite. “I’m not some invalid. I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, right,” you shot back, settling him down. “Because you were doing such a great job of it earlier, huh?”

His eyes flashed with annoyance, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest, stubborn as always. “I don’t need your help.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you retorted, rolling your eyes. “You can barely stand, Five. Just… stay put, okay?”

He huffed, turning his head away from you. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“Oh, trust me, I know,” you replied with a smirk, leaning back against the wall. “But I’m also right, and you hate that.”

Five shot you a sideways glance, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite his obvious discomfort. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re a pain in the ass,” you countered, crossing your arms. “But at least I’m not the one who got himself stabbed.”

Five rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in them now. “You really don’t know when to shut up, do you?”

“Not when I’m right, no,” you shot back, your voice lighter now, the tension easing between you both.

For a moment, there was silence, the usual bickering replaced by something softer, more familiar. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, making sure he was comfortable. He was still pale, but there was color returning to his cheeks, and the fact that he was able to argue with you was a good sign.

“You’re lucky I’m here to save your ass,” you said, breaking the silence with a teasing grin.

Five scoffed, but the smirk on his face was unmistakable. “I guess I am. Not that I’d ever admit it.”

“Too late,” you quipped, settling into a more relaxed position beside him. “You just did.”

He rolled his eyes again, but there was no real annoyance behind it. “Whatever.”

“Whatever,” you echoed, a small smile playing on your lips.

The room fell into a comfortable silence, the tension from earlier dissipating. After a moment, Five spoke again, his voice softer this time. “Thank you.”

You looked at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. For a moment, you just stared at each other, the usual animosity between you replaced by something more genuine.

A small smile tugged at your lips, and you nodded. “Don’t expect me to save you every time.”

Five let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

That was a lie, of course. You would save him every time, without hesitation. You would fight anyone, take on any danger, to protect this infuriating, arrogant boy. You’d bring him back from the dead if you had to. Hell, you’d fight the devil himself for Five Hargreeves. Because, as much as you hated to admit it, you cared about this idiot, this arrogant, infuriating boy. And you always would.

[itsabouttimex2]

I have been going insane about the not beloved au.

The idea and sheer emotions of it just cling to me and haven’t left me for days and I blame you. Just the idea of [User] not only not being the beloved- but in a way being solely viewed that way- and in a sense being completely treated as such where it is very obvious- just- I love it.

The pure angst potential with the au is there and I -‘ screeching about it.

Y/N’s Not The Beloved?

(Monkiefam)

Exactly- Y/N is so heavily defined by being “not the beloved” that it kinda becomes their entire character.

Just like some people get jammed into slots they’re undeserving of by born traits or mere appearances, Y/N is out here getting pigeonholed into the “not our favorite” just because MK is the little monkey demon that their parents dreamed of having for so long.

And it doubly sucks ass, because Sun Wukong and Macaque are such good parents to MK that any criticism on your part will be questioned and “debunked” by well-meaning peers who probably just see you as “spoiled” or “jealous”.

Like, imagine this: your classmate, Y/N, is the adopted child of the fucking legendary hero, Monkey King. He’s married to; of all people, to the infamous Six-Eared Macaque. They have an adorable adopted son who is also a demon monkey.

And if what Y/N has to say about this whole family dynamic is “they spoil my brother too much/love him more than me/expect me to constantly look after him” and like…

From their perspective?

Bitch! You are privileged beyond compare and comprehension! You have two unimaginably powerful parents! They could crumble a civilization and raise a new from the smoldering ashes! They could impose themselves as gods and demand proper tribute! And instead they adopt a silly little mortal out of the goodness of their hearts, and you have the gall to “whine” about it not being enough?

Some of your classmates get beaten for bringing home bad grades? Some of them have dead parents? And a few were disowned for being queer! Others live in filth! Some have literally nothing! Why are you so damn “ungrateful”, Y/N?!

And then desperately trying to explain that yes, you are grateful for them and everything they’ve done, it’s not right for you to miss out on fundamental life experiences just because MK didn’t want you to go, or to nearly flunk a test because you couldn’t sleep on account of MK demanding your attention, or to lose friends that you were never allowed to hang out with because MK didn’t like them.

It’s especially bad in the situation that Y/N is particularly young, around say… under thirteen, or maybe semi-verbal, if they’re shy or anxious, and they haven’t learned how to properly communicate and express themselves in a conducive and effective manner, which leads to exchanges where what Y/N says is utterly ineffective at conveying what they mean, like:

“My parents love MK more than me.” (My parents unhealthily prioritize him even at a cost to myself.)

“Aww, sweetie! He’s just new to your house! You’ll get used to him!”

“I have to babysit MK so much that I don’t get to hang out with my friends.” (My budding social life is beginning to crumble under the weight of being a caretaker to my little brother.)

“You’re such a good older sibling! I bet your parents are really grateful to have a babysitter on hand!”

“MK wanted to go somewhere new yesterday, and he made our dads take me. I didn’t get to sleep.” (MK’s immediate happiness is becoming more important to both of our fathers than my physical health.)

“I bet you all had a lot of fun if you’re this tuckered out, huh? You’re lucky they took you!”

It gets to the point that Y/N, as they grow up, turns to the internet for validation and support in their life, probably to results that are equally split towards positive/negative.

“NTA- Clearly your fathers do not respect your health or feelings! Pack up and move out!”

“I can’t move out though? We live on a sacred mountain and I’ve never had a job because they make me babysit MK instead.”

“ESH cause y’all sound exhausting. I’d beat the fuck out of this “MK” TBH. What a brat.

“He’s nine though??? WTF dude?”

“Honestly all these NTAs and ESHs are so confusing clearly OP is a fucking ungrateful brat who’s gonna regret pushing their family away when they’re alone and have nobody. MASSIVE YTA kiddo.”

“I just want to stay home and sleep because I’m tired as hell from all the other family trips that I went on with my family? This is the first time I’m saying no?”

And slowly growing more and more ostracized and confused by everything in their nonconventional little family and how MK’s obsession with them is both fueled and enabled by Wukong and Macaque’s obsession with him, all slowly heading to a peak-

And when you snap, you are inevitably going to snap hard.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Broken Heart Mender

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: After hearing Tim tell Angela why he's not in a relationship with you, you pull away and make yourself sick with a broken heart. After too long without hearing from you, Tim finds you and promises to make everything better.

Warnings: reader gets sick (vomiting, headache, losing weight, crying), slight miscommunication, angst to fluff & hurt/comfort

Word Count: 2.4k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest

“You know, you’re here a lot for someone who doesn’t work here,” Smitty points out.

“And you’re here a lot for someone who doesn’t work at all,” you argue playfully.

“She’s got a point,” Tim adds, shrugging at Smitty’s offended look.

You smile at Tim as you walk out, needing to return to your own station after spending too long on paperwork (to visit Tim). He’s been your friend since you were a rookie, and now he’s so much more.

You and Tim are safe places for one another; whenever one needs it, the other becomes an unlicensed therapist, a no-strings-attached hugger or cuddler on bad days, and a good listener, no matter the time or problem. Part of why you’re so willing to do such things for Tim is because you have feelings for him, a long-harbored crush that grows each time he’s kind to you or asks for your advice.

Tim, however, will happily listen to your problems and provide a shoulder to cry on, but he prefers to show his care by being what some (Angela) might call a ‘protective menace.’ He’s had feelings for you for as long as he can remember and shows it by staying close and keeping you out of harm’s way.

Whenever you run into each other at work, you find a way to stay together, and while Tim protects you, you try your hardest to make him smile. You like doing small things for him to make him happy because he deserves it. Likewise, he stays close because you deserve more than anyone can ever give you.

The only problem is that you’re both scared to let your feelings show, so you disguise it as friendship, a special bond that no one can break. Only a few people, those willing to look, can see that there’s more to your actions and words than a time-tested and bulletproof friendship.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim sighs when he sees Angela sitting at his desk.

“Don’t you have work to do?” he asks.

“You have questions to answer,” she replies, moving out of his seat and blocking the door. “I want to know about you and your friend.”

Tim rolls his eyes at her tone and air quotes. She has asked him about you before, but she’s relentless.

“Why aren’t you in a real relationship? Why haven’t you asked her out?” Angela inquires.

“Not your business, Lopez,” Tim answers.

✯✯✯✯✯

You slow as you near Tim’s office, his voice and Angela’s drawing your attention as your smile drops.

“Just tell me why you won’t let her in that last little bit,” Angela demands.

“Not that it is any of your concern, but we won’t work. We’re not made for each other, we’re not soulmates, and we will not be good for each other, not like that,” Tim snaps.

Swallowing, you feel like your heart physically drops into your stomach, making you nauseous as you fight tears. You leave before Tim or Angela notice you’re outside, unwilling to see Tim after learning how he feels.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What does that mean, Timothy?” Angela asks, quieter as she digs for the real reason.

Tim shakes his head, not ready to admit that he doesn’t consider himself relationship material. Regardless, you deserve someone better than him, though he has never considered it the other way around: you are too good for him and always have been.

“You’re right, it’s not my business. But it is hers,” Angela reminds him before leaving.

✯✯✯✯✯

Distancing yourself from Tim is hard, but after his comments to Angela, it’s what you have to do. Tim doesn’t have feelings for you and thinks you aren’t good enough, which hurts. More than your feelings, you are mentally distraught. Your emotions are all over the place, swinging aimlessly from anger to denial to an overwhelming sadness that makes it impossible to do anything but cry.

After a long night of fighting with your emotions, you try to eat breakfast and realize that the hurt is physical, too. Rushing to the bathroom, you empty your stomach before moving to the floor as your tears continue. Losing Tim is the worst pain you’ve ever experienced, and this is only the beginning.

The alarm on your phone goes off, and you pull yourself off the bathroom floor and get ready, ignoring the pain building behind your eyes and the churning sensation in the pit of your stomach. It will be a long day, but if you can power through, you will take some time off next week.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim is neck-deep in paperwork for a Metro case, but every spare second he has is spent calling and texting you. You don’t answer, and Tim can't do anything as his worry increases. He realizes Angela was right, and you deserve to know how he feels and why he keeps you so close, yet not close enough.

✯✯✯✯✯

By the end of the day, you haven’t been able to keep a single thing down, and you’re not sure if the emotional or physical pain is worse. Collapsing onto your couch, you let the tears begin anew as your week of PTO begins and your life as you know it ends.

Each day seems worse than the last, as you get sicker and sadder with each passing moment. When you summon the courage to step on the scale on Sunday morning, just three days after hearing Tim’s comments, you’ve lost a concerning amount of weight. You know it’s dangerous, but between the constant crying and the anxiety and sadness eating at you, there isn’t much you can do. There isn’t much you want to do except find a way to make yourself good enough for Tim Bradford.

✯✯✯✯✯

It’s been days since Tim heard from you, and he’s worried. When Mid-Wilshire gets called to assist your station, he hopes to see you. Tim searches the crowd of blue until he finds your partner.

“Bradford,” your partner greets.

Tim asks where you are, curious as to why you aren’t together, and your partner explains that you’ve been off work since Saturday, sick with something.

“Do you know if she’s okay?” Tim asks.

“All I know is it has to be bad for her to take this much time off,” your partner explains with an apologetic shrug before being called away.

Tim’s protectiveness kicks into overdrive, his worry keeping him from being able to focus on anything else. He finds his captain and tells him what's going on before asking if he can go check on you.

As he drives to your apartment, Tim hopes it’s not as bad as it sounds while beating himself up for not coming to visit you sooner. The ignored calls should have been a sign that something was wrong, but he let work get in the way. Though you aren’t there to hear it, Tim promises he will never neglect you again.

✯✯✯✯✯

It takes a minute to realize that the pounding sound is someone knocking and not an effect of your headache. Stumbling to the door, you answer it without checking who it is. When you see Tim’s face, you try to close the door, but you’re too weak, and Tim is too quick.

He rushes inside, looking at your pale face, unruly hair, and how your clothes hang off of you: an indicator you're unhealthily losing weight. It’s enough to push his protective side to action even as he fears the worst.

“You should go,” you tell him.

Tim ignores you, walking to your kitchen and setting water on the oven to boil. While he waits, Tim straightens up your apartment, moving quickly from room to room. He hasn’t spoken to you yet, and as you watch him, your emotions take over again.

With a few tears running down your face, you raise your voice and say his name. “You need to go.”

“No,” he answers simply. “You need help, you’re obviously sick and you’re not answering my calls.”

Tim's presence and how he acts like nothing has changed, and he’s still the protective friend he pretends to be, hurts you.

“Tim, get out!” you demand.

“Let me help,” he argues.

Shaking your head, you walk to your room and close the door, curling around your pillow as you cry. Each noise Tim makes in the kitchen feels like he’s laughing at you, and you don’t know how much more of this you can take.

He lets himself into your room after knocking, setting a mug of tea beside your bed, and rubbing your back. He notices how you stiffen but thinks it’s because you’re sick.

“What do you want to eat?” he asks.

“I want you to go.”

Tim nods, more to himself than you, and walks out of your bedroom. 

You hear the door close behind him and roll over, unable to decide if you want to drink the tea or throw it at the wall.

✯✯✯✯✯

The following morning, you wake, and the first thing you remember is Tim leaving yesterday. Yes, you asked him to, but it still hurts. The cold mug beside your bed is a cruel reminder of everything you’ve lost. Rolling out of bed, you reach for the water on the nightstand. After the first drink, you race for the bathroom, wondering how long it takes for a broken heart to heal.

Someone pulls your hair out of your face, a kind hand pressed to your back as you cry. When you feel able, you lean back against the tub behind you. Tim moves back, wetting a washcloth before he kneels beside you. As he wipes your face and neck with the cool rag, you wonder what he’d do if you gave him an out.

“I heard what you said,” you admit quietly. “That we wouldn’t be good together.”

Tim slows his movements as he listens to you.

“It hurt.”

Fresh tears break over your waterline, tracking down your cheeks. Tim realizes that he’s the reason you feel so bad; that one comment made to protect his feelings, to hide them, made you feel so bad that you’re now physically sick.

“Hey,” he begins, moving to sit before you when you turn away. “Listen, I know you don’t want to believe me, but I only said that to get Angela to leave me alone, to protect myself. I don’t think that.”

“But you said it,” you point out tearily.

“I know, and I’m sorry. The truth is we wouldn’t be good together, but not because of you, never because of you. It’s me; I am not made for relationships and I’m not good enough for you.”

You choke on a sob, leaning toward Tim. He extends his arm, letting you move against his side.

“Since we met, I’ve wanted more,” he whispers against your hair. “But I was scared you’d realize I’m broken and leave… like everyone else.”

Shaking harder against his side, you cling to him as all your emotions mix. There is a chance this is a dream, but if you have to lose Tim, this seems like the best way to say goodbye.

“C’mon,” Tim urges gently, pulling you with him as he stands.

With a gentle hand on your back and one on your shoulder, Tim leads you to the couch. Covering you with a blanket, he promises to come right back. When he returns with a glass of water and a pack of crackers, you turn toward him.

“Are you going to leave?” you whisper.

Tim shakes his head. “Never.”

Nodding, you accept the crackers. After you eat a few and drink half the water Tim gave you, you sit back.

“I cleaned your apartment last night,” Tim tells you. “You want to change and clean up?”

You take a deep breath, and Tim senses your apprehension before adding, “I’ll help you.”

Taking Tim’s hand, you follow him back into your bedroom. After you change into the clothes he hands you, you sit on the bathroom vanity and let him wash your face and secure your hair.

“When’s the last time you ate? More than a few bites, I mean,” Tim asks, laying a hand on your thigh.

You shrug before admitting, “Last Wednesday.”

Tim’s jaw clenches, but he hides it with a quick nod. “I’m going to make you some more food. I know you probably don’t want to eat, and you don’t have to eat much, but you need something.”

Moving your hand onto Tim’s, you interlace your fingers with his. He leans in, releasing a chuckle when you throw your arms around his neck. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulls you to the edge of the vanity.

“I missed you,” you whisper in his ear.

“I missed you too,” he responds.

✯✯✯✯✯

As you dry the ends of your hair while you exit the bathroom, you feel like a new person.

“We need to talk,” Tim says when he sees you. Your smile falls, and Tim takes your hand. “Not like that,” he promises.

“Like what?” you ask, curling your legs under you as you sit beside him.

“I meant what I said, but I need to make sure you know that. I have feelings for you, I have for a long time, I’m just terrified to show them because I’m not good enough for you.”

Boldly, you press your finger to his lips to stop him. He raises his brows at your movement, smiling with you.

“Yes, you are. You’re more than good enough. That’s why I fell in love with you.”

Tim pulls your hand away from his face, kissing your finger as he does so. “Even though I broke your heart and made you sick?”

“Broken heart sickness is curable, and you’re a pretty good doctor,” you tease, leaning toward him.

“I promise to make it better, and never do it again.”

You nod, trusting him entirely. Now that you’ve had a shower and heard that Tim feels the same, your stomach growls.

“It’s working already,” Tim says.

“I’m hungry again,” you marvel, smiling at Tim.

“I’ll offer a trade,” Tim begins. “A home-cooked meal for you, and a kiss for me.”

You nod, but Tim adds, “And I promise never to lie to protect myself again. I’ll tell you exactly how I feel, as long as you do the same.”

“I feel like I love you, Tim Bradford,” you reply, pulling him in for the promised kiss.

Your kiss is better than he expected, and Tim loses himself in the feeling of you until your stomach growls again, and you laugh against his lips. Tim broke your heart, but he put it back together with a piece of his; the best-broken-heart-mender in the world was by your side all along.

[gladiatorcunt]

Literally begging you to please write more Patrick Zweig x Reader fics 🥵🥵

cw: 18+ MDNI, afab reader, hints of patrick x art / patrick x reader x art, consensual and accidental somno, gross patrick, hint of breeding kink, college era ish, mention of ass play, unedited

Tired Loser Bf!Patrick who hikes one of your thighs over his, pressing up against you and sinking back into your already wet pussy. It’s so early in the morning, but sometimes he gets in a mood where he just needs to go lose himself in your cunt even if you’re not contributing. You hum and snuggle further into the silk pillowcase, relishing in the too tight grip of your plush love handles and the sloppy sounds his balls make against your ass. You hardly spend any time together due to his career rhat’s been on a bit of a decline, so you’re more than happy to be his toy if that’s what makes him feel like he’s worth anything. Like he can only find meaning in the warm walls of your pussy, and ass, on occasion.

It’s either this or quick fucks on the counter or kitchen table, both of you nearly clawing at each other in desperation to all but consume the other. Sometimes it’s softer, slow thrusts angled to perfectly hit the right spot every time as he trails open mouthed kisses along your collarbone. Patrick offers to take a shower after coming home sweaty and disgusting but you always say that you prefer him like that anyway. He whines pathetically for a kiss for you and for him from a best friend you’ve never met into your neck and pounds you harder. Your eyes flutter half open at the impact, the grunts behind you and the thick weight moving in and out of you being the only things you can comprehend.

“Glided right in, didn’t even have to finger you or anything.” He moans too loudly for sleepy sex at 5 in the monring. “Always so ready for me, just how i like you.”

“Uh! Uh huh-“

You sigh and nod into the pillow, lazily throwing your ass back on his cock as he fucks you. His pace is so fast that you’re worried he might throw his back out, it’s so frantic and desperate, like he’s trying to stab your guts and leave a permanent mark on you from the inside. You zone in on his heavy breathing, he grinds his length deeper inside and lifts one of your ass cheeks just to watch it fall and jiggle back into place. It’s almost like he’s on the court, eyes watching the ball like a hawk and giving you the most toe curling punched out sounds when he hits it. His precision and raw enthusiasm has you gasping.

The sun’s not far off from rising, so you give up on getting anymore meaningful rest and drown in the intense smell around you. Sweat, slick, old almost acidic cum from when he bred you in his sleep, take out containers from last night that haven’t been thrown away, sharp and piercing autumn air, Patrick’s horrific axe body spray, your much more pleasant cherry blossom body wash. His thrusts send you rocking up the bed, tits swaying back and forth in the mess of tangled thin sheets. Your still half concious but he fucks you like he’s been awake for hours, eyes wide and crazed and brow furrowed like he needs so much more of you than he thought. He moans two names after quick sucks to both of your nipples, one for each. Yours and that same best friend’s.

The red cap Patrick has stashed away in the nighstand collects dust like a skeleton in a closet. There are sessions where he won’t, or maybe can’t, cum unless you cry and whine for that best friend too. You don’t even know who you’re begging for another cock to steal your voice and ravage your throat, but you do it and take note of the euphoric shout that rattles all the way out of Patrick’s chest, the all too pleased sigh into the valley of your breasts. You don’t ask in the shower or in bed, the buried sadness he carries like a chain gives the impression that the abscence is not his choice. Might be a nice birthday present, a reunion.

You wake up more as he goes insane with his fucking, his arm restrains your thigh and pulls it up so high you can feel the muscle stretching. He doesn’t communicate beyond feral grunts and something primal between a growl and a whimper, making sure you can really feel his thick cock bullying your poor pussy beyond repair. You never mind, in fact some days it’s you who wakes Patrick up by bouncing on him like a cock starved slut. You like when you can’t forget what he’s done to you, when you can raise your head to admire the new necklace of bruises. It’s not like he’s never gentle with you, but you don’t feel ashamed for loving him how he is. The jagged edges and aching need to belong somewhere, to someone.

Sometimes all a relationship needs to work is for the people involved to be the same, deep down or surface level. You take whiffs of his pubes that are too deep to be normal apprection for your partner’s body and he eats his own tangy cum out of your puffy pussy like it’s God’s gift to humanity, spitting the left over jizz and additional saliva into your ass hole and slurping that up too. But in the here and now, he’s fucking you without a goal or an end in sight, heavy balls wetly kissing your lower body with no assurance of being emptied. It could be hours before Patrick lets either of you cum, like it’s one of his games that more closely resembles a heated battle to something that looks and acts like death. Evenly matched, no one being stronger than the other.

So you give him the point and drift off, messily tongue kissing him back and lulling yourself to the chaotic rhythm of his thrusts. Outside, it starts to softly rain, the ambience of the moment softening both of your hearts. You put effort in a real kiss, only for a second, whisper an ‘I love you’ and wait for a resounding ‘I love you too’ before shutting off your brain for the time being.

[iluvapplesxh]

⧽⧽Time Slows⧼⧼

❀ pair: billie eilish x fem!reader

✰ summary: Nothing you did ever seemed to be enough, and you felt helpless, falling down lower with each passing moment without help, but all you needed was Billie. She'll always be there. And she'll help you back up whenever.

✯ warnings: eating disorders, cursing, vomit, bulimia, purging, I beg you, if any of this triggers you do not read, comfort, !ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE!

✒ a/n: I love writing requests sm. Also, I recommend listening to this song, sets the mood lol. still kinda feel like I didn't give this request my all but 🤷‍♀️.

Aren’t you hungry?

Have you eaten yet?

Didn’t you also skip lunch?

Haven’t you eaten already?

Again?

Nothing was ever good enough, you guessed. If you ate, it was too much. If you didn’t, it wasn’t enough. Nothing seemed to satisfy the people around you, or yourself either.  You tried everything, you worked out religiously for weeks, nothing, you did several stupid diets, nothing, you distracted yourself from your boredom, but not long enough to not go out for a snack. Then another one. And even though your chest felt heavier and heavier with each bite, you didn’t stop the routine. Not when the bites became harder to swallow with the tightness of your throat while your eyes burned with tears.

So, this was your last resort. Eating, rushing to the bathroom and making it all come back up.

Deep down, you knew it wasn’t the right way to do this and it will probably do more damage than good, both to your mental and physical health, but it felt too good. The numbers on the scale flying down, seeing your body shrink, feeling a sense of satisfaction when you stood in front of the mirror and the lines of our ribs stared back at you with a manipulative grin, hearing the people around you say those words.

Wow, look at you! You’ve lost so much weight!

Damn, you look so much better like this. No offense.

(...)

Right. No offense but every time you even dared to think about food the thought of losing this newfound satisfaction, the compliments, pushed right back against it and somehow always won. You knew you were a goner when you’d eat, and you wouldn’t even have to try to make yourself gag on your fingers for it to come back up, you just had to be fast enough to run to the bathroom and it came right back up without argument.

And, somehow, you didn’t stop there. Not until the compliments turned into small frowns of concern and worried words.

I don’t think losing weight that fast is healthy.

Hey, you okay? You seem pale.

“Are you okay, baby?”

Your head snapped up from the spot you were staring at, eyes locking with your girlfriend’s worry-filled blue ones and you shot her a confused look. 

“You haven’t touched your food” Billie spoke again, her own hand had stopped mid-air, holding a fork with her food on it. You blinked and looked around the table briefly, seeing the worried gazes of Billie’s family.

Of course, when you had started this addictive ‘habit’ of yours, you didn’t exactly think about what would happen in a public setting. With people who actually cared about you, and had been there to try to soothe you with assuring words when they picked up on your sudden weight loss, which you excused to ‘gym exercises became efficient’ to ease their worry. 

And when Billie excitedly invited you to have dinner with her family for her brother’s birthday party or something, she hadn’t really explained, but the way her eyes sparkled with excitement at the thought of having dinner with her loved ones after such tiring long weeks of press and work, you just couldn’t form a proper excuse.

You cleared your throat and glanced down at your still full plate of…something. Then you looked into Billie’s eyes again and sighed before sending her a comforting smile. “Oh, yeah. I guess I got lost in thought, huh.” Chuckling half-heartedly, you straightened up and held your own fork firmer, gathering some of the food on it.

Billie’s eyes burned onto your form, watching with furrowed brows as your hand shook the slightest bit when it grasped at the fork, or how your eyes clouded with something of a fearful look while your eyes watched your own movements. 

Your hand slowly lifted and brought the cutlery up to your lips. You swallowed your saliva harshly before your mouth opened and you placed the metal against your tongue, the food sliding off the fork before you pulled it away. A sudden sick feeling in your stomach almost made you spit it right back out but you swallowed with a hum, smiling at Billie.

Her eyes narrowed in skepticism as she watched you eat and swallow the small amount of food, the paleing skin of your face contracting for a mere second before the smile took over, but Billie caught it and her heart sped up.

She’s been watching you, like a hawk since you started to lose the ‘extra’ weight you thought didn’t make you any more beautiful than anyone else. She knew you had struggles, but didn’t want to push when she didn’t have anything to reason with. She also just didn’t want to believe her own head. She wanted it to not be true, but when you suddenly got up literally not even five minutes later and rushed towards the bathroom, it was the last straw and she quickly bolted after you, face etched with worry and her bottom lip pulled between her teeth as she neared the bathroom.

She pulled the door open and when the sounds of gagging and coughs between groans hit her ears, her pulse picked up as well as her steps. The moment she reached the stall with the door wide open and her eyes fell on your hunched over figure, her own face paled and a small gasp left her lips before she hurriedly marched forward, hands gathering the silky strands of your hair and one of them held it in a makeshift ponytail while the other rubbed your back.

When you finally stopped gagging and coughing, her gaze dropped to the toilet bowl and her chest tightened at the sight of the small food you’ve just eaten, drenched with the acids of your obviously empty stomach and she felt herself getting sick before she tore her gaze away and helped you up, catching you when your feet gave you and guiding your body to the sinks.

“Come on, baby. Let's wash your face” She whispered sweetly, letting you lean against the marble sink with one of her arms still around your torso and the hand of the other reaching to open the tap. Her fingers shook as she held her hand under the streaming water before she lifted it up to your face, wiping it gently. She repeated the action but her hand stopped on your cheek when she felt hot tears hit her cold hands. 

Her eyes met your blurry ones and she shushed you tenderly, but her own heart stung in her chest when your head dropped. She shook her head and tilted your head back up with her hand still on your cheek. 

“I’m-...I’m so sorry, Billie. I-...” A choke cut you off and Billie quickly turned the tap off, pulling you into her. Your chin rested on her shoulder as her arms circled your trembling body. She held back her own tears when your waist felt strangely small and a shaky breath left her.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. Shh, shh” One of her hands moved up to your head, caressing your hair gently.

It took a while for your sobs to die down, and even when they did, you stayed clinging to Billie while her arms held you tightly. Guilt was all you felt. For eating, for vomiting, for lying to Billie, for not talking to her.

“Can you look at me, please?” Her voice was soft and melodic against your ear and you reluctantly pulled back enough for your eyes to meet and yours welled with tears again at the look in Billie’s. She shook her head and shushed you again, rubbing your sides with her hands. “Talk to me, baby. I need you to tell me what is it you’re feeling” 

You swallowed, feeling your throat dry up when you tried to speak. “I-...” You started, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment before letting go. “I’m tired, Billie.” Your voice cracked mid-through her name and you took a deep breath. “I-...I’m so fucking tired of everything. I-...I want to be perfect, so bad, and I’ve tried and tried but nothing is ever fucking enough” You pulled further away and rubbed your face with your hands. “I’m hungry, then I’m sick and guilty and then I’m crying and I’m exhausted. I don’t want to live like this” You spoke, sadness and desperation laced into your voice like venom. “I just want to be normal and pretty and not hating myself but the more ‘satisfied’ I become from…this, the lower I fall and it feels like I can’t get myself up no matter what” 

Billie listened with a small frown on her face, her throat burning as she felt the need to cry crawl up in it. She didn’t want this for you. She didn’t want you to feel like this. Like you weren’t enough. It was a really big, harsh punch to the gut and she felt like she failed as a girlfriend because how were the signs not obvious? How did she push her worry away for you so easily? 

She reached out again, her soft, now warm hands cradling your face and your breathing calmed. “I know, I know” Billie murmured in a small voice, pulling your body close to hers again. “I’m so fucking sorry for not getting you up when you fell down the first time, baby.” Her own voice cracked this time and your lips parted, ready to speak but she shushed you. “I’m here now, okay? And I’m gonna help you back up. I promise, I’m not going anywhere, love” 

Your eyes brinked with tears again and a lump formed in your throat as you nodded. A small, whispered ‘Thank you’ left your lips in a choked back manner and the feeling of Billie’s forehead leaning against yours made the chaos in your head still for that moment. 

“I love you. So fucking much and I’ll never leave you alone again, you hear me?” 

All you could do was nod again, but that was more than enough for her. You were more than enough for her. And that was all that mattered. You would learn to not care about being enough for anyone else, because the only person who really mattered was here and she was holding you. There was no fucking way she’d ever let you go again.

✒ a/n: so I do feel like I didn't quite capture the meaning and the seriousness of an ed but I want you to know that if you are going through of any kind I love you and it's going to be okay, even when everything around you tells you otherwise <3

REQUESTS OPEN ♡