#i’m sorry it’s just been really hard on my mental health | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hana-no-seiiki · 5 months ago

Text

STILL INTO YOU

yandere batfam x cat villain! reader (+extra!!)

synopsis: moments wherein the batfam n co. realize that after all this time they’re still into you

status: unedited.

[AUTHOR’S NOTE:] Super sorry for the lack of fics everyone!! Lately I found out that my DID symptoms have gotten worse and that I’ve experienced a full blackout (and possibly more, I just have no memory of it). So I’ve just been trying to recuperate my mental health for a while with art related stuff. Which, on the positive side of things, means that I’ll be releasing a Webtoon (pilot) around this July!! Hope to see you guys there during the release!!

Can’t count the years on one hand

That we’ve been together

I need the other one to hold you.

Make you feel, make you feel better.

You never realized how much Bruce knew you until you two sat down and had a meal together. Why? You might ask. Well, you were supposed to have a dinner date with Tim today at the manor, but he was unfortunately caught up on a case. You were about to cancel it, maybe cause some chaos in town and then chill with Jason as revenge for your bestie bailing — but Tim insisted you hung out with his father instead.

The pair knew it was the only way for you to (A) Behave and (B) not sleep with Jason for the nth time that week.

Gazing at all your favorite foods displayed upon the excessively extravagant and expensive table you realized that aside from the second youngest, Bruce knew you the most out of everyone in the Batfamily by virtue of his contingencies and overall time as the Batman while you were training to be Catwoman’s successor.

It was so odd, seeing him so calm and not so hostile when you were around. Eerie.

“I’m sorry.”

“Hm?”

“I always saw you as a threat. Treated you like one. But you were just a kid stuck in a situation you didn’t have a hand on. I’m truly sorry. For treating you that way.”

“. . . Isn’t it your job? No hard feelings really. I’d be creeped out if you treated me so nicely — not the food though this is very much welcomed.” You ranted as you stuck a fork into your steak, pointing it at Bruce’s face. Yet, as much as how you were failing to achieve proper etiquette he didn’t seem annoyed more so . . . surprised?

“I hope to see you have dinner here again next week.” His hands stretched to awkwardly pat your head.

“Depends, will I have more of Alfred’s steak again?”

It's not a walk in the park

To love each other.

But when our fingers interlock,

Can't deny, can't deny you're worth it.

Koriand’r wasn’t an idiot. She knew about Dick’s lingering feelings for you.

Perhaps she may be. Considering the fact that she still tried to be in a relationship with him even then.

“Shit. Kitty? Kitty! Wake up you hear me?!”

“. . . I’m. . .” You coughed, groaning at the pain it triggered all throughout your body “ . . . here . .”

You raised your hand, too weak to reach his face you settled with holding his own. Dick squeezed your intertwined hands with a pained expression , and an intimacy unfamiliar to the alien.

But that wasn’t what made Koriand’r finally understand how hopeless their relationship was.

It was the fear in his face. His pretty features morphed into one of horror.

Ah, even after all this time. Dick couldn’t live without you.

Cause after all this time I’m still into you.

I should be over all the butterflies

But i'm into you (I'm in to you)

And baby even on our worst nights

I'm into you (I'm into you)

Let em wonder how we got this far

Cause I don't really need to wonder at all

Yeah after all this time

I'm still into you

Jason spent many, many grueling years under the influence of the LoA. And not once did his body forget the feeling of you.

The butterflies, the heart wrenching pain of being apart from you, and the fleeting, venomous hatred you two shared.

After all, it was your name that escaped his lips the moment he awoke from the dead. Your face the first on his mind. Your voice that he longed to hear again.

He had plenty of time to prepare for this moment. Months? Maybe even years.

“Hey, cool helmet. You a Deadpool fan or . . ?”

But even then, your appearance still made him more nervous than confronting his family once more. More nervous than fighting the villain that ended his life.

“Yikes, awful cut you got there. Need me to patch you up buddy?”

You had grown. He had too, even if it was through some magic, deus ex machina water. Seeing the change in your features, how you shed your youthful look of naïvete and grew into a beautiful/handsome/pretty specimen almost made him break all his plans just to be with you again.

“I know that you’re shy and all but I need words.”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here til the vigilantes show up.”

For his revenge’s sake he hopes that you’ll stay for longer.

Recount the night that I first

Met your mother

And on the drive back to my house

I told you that, I told you that I loved ya.

You felt the weight of the world

Fall off your shoulder

And to your favorite song

We sang along to the start of forever

It was one of those nights when you intruded on the Batfam’s nightly patrols. This time your victim was Damian. And strangely, no one else. He explained that the rest were taking a break.

Leaving out the fact that he poisoned them with some self engineered laxatives.

It was relatively calm until a heist suddenly started in one of the banks you wanted to pick off. Damn.

“Hey, I didn’t know you listened to [Favorite Artist(s)]” You eyes widened at the sound of the music playing the background as Joker’s men began to surround you and Robin.

“Just a casual listener. How did you meet my mother anyhow?” Damian sheathed his katana. Opting to take down his foes by hand to hand combat as he peeled his eyes and ears to listen to you.

Besides he could see that your eyes weren’t on him anyways, so there was no point in showing off.

. . . Not that he was doing that.

“Huh? Well, I know everyone really.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

He sighed, bashing a poor guy’s face with his knees, his hands adding force with a pull — yikes. “I don’t know why I bother with you.”

“She hated me at first. Courtesy of Cat Woman and the Bat being together.” You turned to him, and he ducks.

“Then I lost someone really, really important to me. More than anything in this world. More than this world itself.” Your whip meets a goon behind him. Both of you hear a splat sound as the man falls to the floor. “And while everyone was calling me insane, when everything was breaking down around me. She was the only one who didn’t judge me for . . . the things that I did.”

“She supported me and was there for me no matter what.” You gaze at the blood on your weapon and cringe. “And then I realized your dad was an absolute bastard for leaving her behind. So I took up the mask again and made it my mission to make his life miserable."

"Even after the dinner?"

"Especially. Wanna bet on how long til he snaps?"

"Deal."

And after all this time I’m still into you.

I should be over all the butterflies

But i'm into you (I'm in to you)

And baby even on our worst nights

I'm into you (I'm into you)

Let em wonder how we got this far

Cause I don't really need to wonder at all

Yeah after all this time

I'm still into you

Some things just,

Some things just make sense

And one of those is you and I

Some things just,

Some things just make sense

And even after all this time

Tim honestly didn’t think he had it as bad as his brothers. Sure, he watched your every move and had extensive digital libraries on everything about you, but he did that for everyone. He was more rational; a man that clung unto his senses.

No it wasn’t his actions that made him realize how dangerously important you were to him, it was the way he felt doing so.

After an excessively arduous mission, the first thing he does as he gets back home is to open up his devices and get back to work. Surprise surprise, the stress wouldn’t go away. Not even when he stopped to play some games or catch up on Dungeon Meshi’s last episodes. And that always, always made him relax.

Anxious, his hands subconsciously guide him to that one folder.

Click Click

Dozens if not hundreds of holographic photos, videos and even fan art of you surrounded him.

Tim stares at a video he took when he first found out your identity.

Curling up into a ball with a blanket surrounding him, he slowly drifts off to sleep. Your voice lulling him into his overdue journey to dreamland.

Yeah, he was more rational than the rest. Yet, some things just made sense. Like you being the only thing in this world that manages to make his heart race and anxieties run away.

I'm into You

Baby not a day goes by that

I'm not into you

Jon was a bit dense. But even then he could see the signs of his best friend slowly losing himself to love and infatuation.

He would have been happy,

if it weren’t for the fact that he had a crush on you first.

Being the sweetheart he is, he backed off, respectful of Damian’s feelings (even if the latter wasn’t of his).

I should be over all the butterflies

But i'm into you (I'm in to you)

“Woah, you guys are done already?” Jon landed. As soon as he heard that he’d be able to fight alongside you after what felt like years (it was a couple of weeks), he flew all the way from Metropolis in record time.

If he knew what awaited him he probably wouldn’t have left at all.

“Yeah.” You gave him a thumbs up. Your head laid atop Damian’s lap as the domino masked vigilante ran his hands through your hair. His gloves off to his side.

“C-Cool.”

Jon cried himself to sleep that night.

Even after knowing of Damian’s feelings all this time, he could never stop his own.

And baby even on our worst nights

I'm into you (I'm into you)

Let em wonder how we got this far

Cause I don't really need to wonder at all

Yeah after all this time

I'm still into you

[ NEXT PART : NOBODY GETS ME ]

653 notes · View notes

moondirti · 6 months ago

Note

Hellloooo🖤 I’m the anon who asked about the Safehouse story!

My brain, unfortunately, is not nearly as wrinkly as yours so I cannot come up with creative ideas like you 😂 BUT! I have a few ideas? Maybe? If you can call them that lol.

Was the spanking the first physical interaction they had? What did the morning after that look like?

What happens if reader has a nasty mental health episode & tries to hide it from Ghost?

Does the pet thing progress? I think we all know that Ghost has a thing for the pet play. I don’t even care, that’s totally canon for me at this point.

Would you ever consider writing about the general dynamic they have? Like the “rules” Ghost might have for them?

Totally and completely a self indulgent ask from someone who just had to pull themselves out of a nasty mental health episode lmao I’m so sorry please ignore this if it’s annoying or dumb!

shh i love all of these. i have so many thoughts now / prev

cw: dubcon d/s lifestyle. petplay. controlling behaviour. possessiveness. panic attacks. toxicity. noncon collaring. financial manipulation. mention of self harm. brief fluff.

Your thing with Simon is hard to contextualise.

Or even understand, really.

Parts of it are welcome. He asserts himself in a way you haven't found in the nobodies you've hooked up with previous, happy to fuck you dumb if it means you'll surrender yourself completely. Which you do. You listen intently and follow every direction he gives in bed, and as a reward he wrings orgasm after orgasm from your squirming body. You cum more in one week than you have in the past month, never not naked and sore, wrists tender from where he anchors his hand to keep them pinned above your head. You hear puppy more than your own name, at this point. And it's a concerning because– Well...

You don't mind it.

But you still don't like him.

It isn't like you necessarily need to like your partners in order to have a good time, but it certainly helps if you can tolerate them beyond a dick-in-hole condition. Simon is an anomaly in that he is the worst person you know, whilst also serving as the best lay you've ever had.

That is to say, his habits haven't changed. He's a fucking terror to live with. Nightmare flatmate, the type you see strangers complain about on reddit forums or hear in a friends story from their sister's husband's cousin. Not something you would take seriously until you live the experience – now existing as a sore, precautionary tale you'll no doubt be pitching to anyone also considering subleasing their place as a safe house.

Perhaps it's made worse by the sexual element you share. Before, he had just been your average perverse man, stealing clothes and walking in on you in the bathroom. Now, it seems that sleeping with him has given him the go-ahead to push that behaviour to an extreme. He'll pat your ass while you go about your business, or tug your hair when you raise your voice. Treats you like a pet that has yet to be debarked; just a silly, sub-human way of entertainment.

You can't help but feel you enabled it. But no–

The pet play is cute when he's drilling your brains out – and perhaps only because you can't think straight enough to raise concern – but you're not a dog. Nor do you want to be treated like one throughout all hours of the day. The onus is on him for not catching the hint.

But of course, accountability isn't in his lexicon.

Things only get worse from there.

"An' where d'you think you're going?"

You're halfway out of the door when he catches you leaving.

If you had been more iron-willed, you would slip out and scurry away before he can continue whatever spiel he has stirring. Instead, it's instinct to shrivel in on yourself, clicking the door shut before turning to face the behemoth waiting in the foyer.

"Out." You huff, intent on cold-stoning him. But it's a fools game when your opponent in the broad-shouldered lieutenant – for he merely cocks his head, waiting your silence out with more silence, and it's all you can do to bite your tongue against the deluge of excuses that pile up. "My mates thought it would be a good idea to catch brunch. Y'know– to celebrate the start of summer break. It's a nice day out so..." You gesture to your attire, like you have any reason to justify a sundress to some man you are in no way committed to.

But you can read the possessive gleam of his eyes as they take stock of your appearance: from your expensive mules, up your moisturised legs, to the low cut of your décolletage. It's easy to connect it to that look he had when you came back home that fateful night, the look of warning before he'd taken you over his lap and slapped your ass raw.

And for some odd reason, you're compelled to dig yourself out of trouble.

"Hm. It is a nice day, innit?" You nod a bit too quick. He stalks closer. "Lots of people out." Your nod is a little less enthusiastic. He's centimetres away now. "Some bad, bad men too."

He lifts the ends of your dress, slowly. Your next words quiver on their way out your chest. It's alarming to find that they don't sound nearly as assertive as you intend for them to be, not like they do horny.

"Where are you going with this?"

Your skirt pools around your hips now, held up by one hand as the other smooths over with the gusset of your panties.

"You plan on lettin' them have at this puppycunt? Have I not been givin' it enough attention?" He mockingly coos, pressing harder against the mound between your legs. Your knees grow weak. Not of your own accord, but weak nonetheless, and you have to hold onto his wrist to keep yourself upright. "Is tha' it?"

"N-No–"

"No? But that's what they'll think seeing you walk around like this, silly thing. Poor, neglected mutt, they'll say. Don't have a firm hand to keep 'er in line." Simon tuts, releasing his grip on your dress to pull something out of his back pocket. With the way he crowds into you, you can't crane your head to see what it is. "Now we can't have tha'. I spoil my girl rotten, wouldn' you say?"

"Yes. Yes but–"

"No buts, pup. Have ta stake my claim on you somehow." Something clicks. All too suddenly, you're made aware of the new weight on your neck. It tightens against the column of your throat – not enough to constrict your airways, but enough so that it hinders the way you move. "There we go. So pretty like this."

Panic seizes you, the steel fist of paralysis capturing your muscles in a vice-like clutch. Even as Simon pulls away, you're almost scared to find yourself in the nearest mirror. Scared of what you'll find dangling between your collarbones. There's no mistaking the textured leather that presses against your skin, nor the soft clink of metal hanging from it. No fooling yourself that this is all some cruel joke, not with the sick leer of satisfaction that warps his face.

Stumbling, you navigate to the bathroom and blindly turn on a light.

That cruel fuck.

"Simon," Your voice is devoid of the anger you feel roaring through your veins, circuiting through the frenzied stutter of your heart to find new passion. Instead, you sound horrified. Near hysterical, choking on your own pleas as you run back to the foyer. Your hands tug at the collar clasped around your neck, desperately searching for a buckle that will aid you in ripping it off, despite seeing the lock latched right at the centre that tells of its permanence. What's more, he had it engraved with a crude variation of a dog collar tag. If lost, leave alone. Or else count your days. "S-Simon, Simon please. Fuck– take it off. Take it off, take it off! I don't want this, I don't want... This isn't funny. I'll change if that's what it takes. Please."

Snot bursts from your nose, cheeks wet with a hot mess of tears. You can't suppress the hiccups that interrupt your begging like pathetic shots to the chest, or the weak hits you beat across his pecs. If you could, then perhaps he would give your tantrum more weight.

As it stands, you're nothing but a feral creature resisting training.

"Shhh. Pets can' speak. Pets don't cry." His thumbs press to your under eyes, tamping the flow of brine that mark steady tracks from your lashes. "You'll ruin your makeup like this."

"Si–"

He stare hardens into something dangerous. Against your better judgment, you clamp your lips shut.

"That's it. You're s'good when you listen to me, pup." Once he's sure you've stopped crying, he removes his thumbs to instead push one into your mouth. You can taste the salty residue of your tears on his fingertips. "Now, this is the bes' of both worlds, see? You can go see your friends with this on. I know pets need their playtime, af'er all."

You arch your back in protest, but all that does is bring you closer to the lieutenant. He misinterprets that entirely, of course, and a small smile breaks his face like you've agreed to his terms. A heavy palm pats your ass.

"S'jus' so you don't forget who you belong to." He chuckles. "An' if your friends like the idea, then I have a few friends for them."

You make it one block before hightailing back home.

Nothing in you wanted to give that bastard the satisfaction, but he made it so that whatever you chose to do – stay home or leave wearing a symbol of his ownership – he'd end up triumphant. Naturally, then, you opted for the lesser of two evils: to leave his vicinity immediately. Besides, you'd promised your girls you'd see them after going AWOL the past fortnight, and you knew you'd get an earful if you decided to reschedule at the last moment.

You thought you would convince them it was a bet. That the collar is just some silly joke you have to bear for the day after a football match didn't go in your favour.

But you make it one block before a tradie on his lunch break catcalls you (you about that freaky ting, beautiful?) and decide to change course completely.

You arrive back at your flat without further incident. Ego stung from the various odd looks you received on your way, but nothing as egregious as being singled out as a freak in the midst of a crowd occurs again.

Still, your hands shake as you push your key into its slot.

Which progress to full body tremors as you turn it in place.

Thankfully, Simon isn't waiting on you on the other side of the door. He sits, manspreading on the couch instead, focus zeroed in on the telly that broadcasts Fulham v Man City. When he doesn't look away, you allow yourself to hope he hadn't heard you come in. But it's a naive pool to place your faith in. Nothing escapes the man, and soon enough, his tone of humoured indifference shatters the silence you've been precariously trying to keep.

"Miss me 'lready?"

A wretched sulk, pit of anger hollowing out anew. You swiftly snatch your laptop from the breakfast bar before storming to your room, making sure to lock the door firmly behind you.

The website is bookmarked. Taunting. Sublet your home as a safehouse for our armed forces. Serve your country and help soldiers find refuge. You would laugh if you weren't so single-minded, typing in your email and password upon being prompted to. You don't have to deal with this shit any longer, nor do you intend to. If you remember correctly, there had been a way to report any problems you face. If you phrase yours right, you might just get Simon pulled from your services.

Good dick be damned.

But when you hit enter to sign in, an error message blinks in red.

Account does not exist.

Which is fine. Shit like this happens all the time. There's no reason to work yourself into a panic, you probably just used the wrong email.

So you try your alternate. Account does not exist.

It feels unlikely, but maybe you'd created it under your school email to give yourself credibility. Only–

Account does not exist.

Your blood pressure is no doubt sky high by now. Other symptoms of stress already start to wrack through you – blurry vision, chest aches, difficulty breathing. Your hands sweat excessively as you dig for the customer care number you're sure exists somewhere, efforts impaired by the ever-present weight of the collar around your neck. You wonder if Simon can smell your anxiety like a predator does its prey. If he's in the other room, salivating, waiting for you to wobble out of your room to go for the kill. Some part of you – a needlessly paranoid part – rests on the conclusion that this is somehow his fault too.

Your phone already rings in an outgoing call once you blink back to the present. While you've been functioning on autopilot, you must have found a number to call that related close enough to your issue.

And your suspicion is confirmed when an automated voice picks up. You are currently... second... in line.

It takes five minutes. When a placating woman speaks up amidst the nauseating music they have queued, you can hardly contain yourself from word-vomiting onto her. Safehouse signup. Lost account. Need to report an issue. Please. It's urgent.

"Okay ma'am. If you could give me your name, I'll be happy to find the source of your problem today." You can't spell it out any faster. "Alright. One moment, please."

"O-okay." You sniffle miserably.

"I see. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but it seems that you've been pulled from the program after a complaint was lodged against you. Unfortunately I can't provide more detail than that, but if you need anything else, I would be happy to assi–"

You hang up. The poor thing doesn't need to hear the incensed scream that tears from the deepest parts of you, or the following crack as you chuck your cell at the wall. She'd done what she could. It isn't her fault. It was that self-serving bastard that had you blacklisted from the only thing keeping you financially afloat. It is that that self-serving bastard that continues to occupy space inside your home, despite having no real right to it now.

The tantrum isn't near cathartic enough to unfetter you from your prison of aggravation, and you continue to take it out on everything in your near radius. Your duvet and pillows. The lotion you keep by your beside table. Your own skin, nails piercing into the soft flesh of your palms.

And especially the collar constricting your throat, like vines that tighten at the first sign of struggle.

You have to get this collar off. Even if you fail at everything else, you have to get this collar off.

Scrambling off your bed, you turn your room upside down looking for a bobby pin or a knife. One is unquestionably the safer bet, but you know you'll sit for hours trying to pick the lock that keeps you shackled – so when you find the boxcutter sitting at the bottom of your junk drawer, you immediately take it to your neck.

Just as Simon barges into your room.

You're so far gone, you don't even question how this must look to him. In fact, it doesn't occur to you that you locked your door, and that the only way he could've gotten in is by having a replica of your key. No. You merely twist away from the all-encompassing hold he wraps around your arms, determined to keep the boxcutter away from his confiscation until you can slice through the leather.

But you're crying. Visibly, alarmingly unstable. And Simon's breaths are a little faster than normal, faltering in a way they only do when he's close to climax. He must be worried, which is a funny thought, seeing as he's the reason you're in this mess.

"Alright thas– that's enough of that." He grunts after managing to pry the blade from your hand. You hardly mourn the loss, rather crumbling in on yourself as your sobbing escalates. No longer frustrated, nor determined. Just primed into a suffocating panic attack.

Somewhere in your auditory periphery, you hear the clinking of glass. It doesn't register until he holds a vial of lavender extract you keep under your nose, forcing you to inhale the medicinal aroma. Soon enough, your mouth opens to swallow gulps of unscented air alongside it, and the imposed breathing exercise calms you to a point of blubbering calm.

(For someone so apathetic, you admit he handled that expertly.)

That isn't the end of it, though. Moments later, you're lifted off your feet. He cradles you in both arms as he makes his way to your bed, sitting up against the headboard and placing you on his lap. Safe. Undisturbed.

You say nothing, pressing your wet face into his shirt. For comfort, first and foremost, but the makeup that'll undoubtedly stain the white fabric is an added bonus.

"Know this is hard for y'to understand, pup." Simon begins. "Hard for you ta wrap your head around ownership after bein' alone for s'long. I won't punish you for tha'."

"Y-You don't own me." You accuse.

He shakes his head in response, like your mind is truly as little as he claims. Like you're a dog, complete with two ears and a tail, and he plucked you off the street on the condition that you heel.

If anything, he's the stray.

"Oh, but I do." A large hand rubs circles on your back. Never have you been so conflicted, so torn between leaning in and biting back. "Just don't see it yet, pet. Bu' you will, in time. And in the meanwhile, we'll establish some ground rules to help you adjust."

#do not be a cute girl around this man he will ruin your life #unedited #sorry this took me ages to pump out #tumblr deleted the first draft (?) so i had to rewrite #hate this dumb site #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader #simon 'ghost' riley #ghost #simon riley #x reader #x female reader #call of duty #fanfic #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader

924 notes · View notes

paigesfuturewifey · 2 months ago

Text

authors note! IM SORRY FOR BEING MIA college was kicking my ass (still is) and i’m trying my hardest not to crash out but here is an angsty fic :D

this is also heavily inspired by she wouldn’t be gone by blake shelton IK IK country music sue me it is unfortunately part of my roots so yes here she is

“i’m sick of this caitlin!”

you two had been going back and forth for a while about this, both too stubborn to admit who was in the right and who was in the wrong.

it’d been two months since caitlin went first pick in the wnba draft. two months of caitlin continuously forgetting about your date nights, two months of caitlin lagging hours on end and then eventually responding to your messages with one word replies, two months of wondering if caitlin would be home from practice at a decent hour or if you’d go to sleep in a cold, empty bed.

two. fucking. months.

of course, you understood the fact that caitlin’s job required almost all of her undivided attention and you were extremely proud of her and all her accomplishments.

but being second priority to her job was taking a toll on your mental health.

you were tired of being alone all the time. the sacrifices you made, picking up everything and moving to indiana with caitlin to be with her, felt pretty fruitless when you had barely seen her in your own apartment.

caitlin’s response came low at first as she rubbed her temples, “what do you want me to do?” and then she repeated it louder, throwing her arms up in frustration, “what do you want me to do?!”

“i want you to be here! you’re never here anymore, caitlin! i’m alone ALL THE TIME now!”

“that’s not fair. i’m doing this for us! for— for you!”

you shook your head, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “no. no. not for me. this is what you wanted! you wanted this! i didn’t—“

“i didn’t ask you to move to indiana with me!”

the statement felt like a slap to the face. caitlin, of all people, knew how hard of a decision it was to move to indiana. to be away from your family. your sister, your parents.

caitlin never pressured you into it, of course. she was insistent that if you had decided to stay in iowa, you’d make long distance work. but when you ultimately decided to stay with, whom you thought was the love of your life, caitlin couldn’t of been more happier.

the two of your popped a bottle of champagne in celebration and spent the night talking, laughing, planning your futures together.

a bittersweet memory that seemed so distant at the moment.

as you narrowed your eyes, you felt a tear roll down your cheek, followed by three or two more. “you know what, caitlin? you’re right. you didn’t ask. but it was a sacrifice i was willing to make for you!”

“you’re not the only one making sacrifices—“

the mere start of the sentence had you letting out a laugh, putting your hands behind your head as you paced back and forth. “you’re not listening.”

“i am listening—“

“no! you’re hearing me but you’re not listening to me!”

silence fell upon the two of you, both contemplating your next words because you both knew you guys were pretty close to crossing lines that couldn’t be uncrossed.

you placed your hands on the counter, leaning on it while hanging your head low, letting the tears drop onto the floor. “i can’t do this anymore,” you finally let out in a small whisper, but it hit caitlin in the gut. “i don’t want a life where i spend more time waiting for you than being with you.”

“you don’t mean that. please baby, stop.” caitlin’s warm hands were suddenly around your waist, leaning her head on your shoulder and kissing softly. “let’s just go to bed, yeah? i promise, i promise things will be different, okay? i’ll make more of an effort. i’ll try and get home on time for dinner. i know things aren’t easy right now, but i can’t lose you. we’ll figure it out, i’ll— i’ll try harder. okay?”

but even when those words eased your mind a little, you both knew the promise wouldn’t be kept.

so it wasn’t really a shock to you when you sat at the dinner table, candles lit and your meal sitting in front of you with the empty chair across from you.

you cooked caitlin’s favorite meal, wore her favorite set underneath your clothes that was her favorite color. you looked at the clock, and when it read 10:30, you scoffed.

you were fed up. you were well over your boiling point.

and, so, when caitlin entered your guys’ apartment at midnight, her heart ached a little at the sight of your untouched meals at the table, and candle she assumed was lit at one point.

she rubbed a hand over her face, quickly walking to your shared room. then she froze in her spot.

your side of the room was empty. from your nightstand being stripped of its decorations, to your side of the closet being completely empty.

the suitcases you used for when you guys planned vacations were gone. along her your toothbrush, makeup, hair products, basically everything that made your shared apartment shared was gone.

caitlin wasted no time picking up her phone and clicking your contact, holding the phone to her ear. she anxiously waited, suddenly feeling as if her whole life was falling apart.

voicemail. she tried seven more times. all went straight to voicemail.

her mind immediately went straight to denial, there was no way you picked up and left, right? you always said you would, but caitlin never believed you. never truly believed you.

or maybe she just didn’t listen to you.

she snatched her keys from the table, leaving the apartment and shutting the door loudly behind her. she bet all her money that her neighbors hated her.

that’s how she ended up in her car, speeding down the highway on a rainy night, frantically calling all of your shared friends.

she started with your mom, driving down the road at 90 miles an hour and switching lanes like an absolute maniac. she’d gotten honked at at least four times already.

“caitlin.” your mom greeted, though judging by her cold and and distant tone, and her use of caitlin’s full name instead of cait, caitlin could tell the news had no doubt got back to her.

“do you know where she is, mrs. l/n?” her question came right off the bat, figuring she had no time to waste in finding you.

your mom’s answer was quiet. and caitlin learned your families habits quickly enough to know that when she went quiet, she was lying. “please—“

“i’m afraid i can’t speak with you now, goodbye caitlin.”

then the line went dead.

with her left hand on the steering wheel, she punched the middle with her right and threw her head back.

her next call was kate because you three all had been very close throughout your iowa college years. kate always understood you in a way that made caitlin jealous.

and for a while, she she was a topic of argument in your relationship because caitlin constantly needed reassurance that she was the one you wanted.

there was clearly a rift in caitlin and kate’s friendship after, but after the move to indiana, they seemed to be mending their friendship. until now.

kate answered on the first ring with a hard question. “what’d you do, clark?”

“kate, i— i fucked up. she’s gone. i don’t know where she went. her stuff’s gone, her clothes are gone, she’s gone.”

“damn it, caitlin. you always do this shit— you drove her away, again.“

“do you know where she is?” caitlin demanded, arriving to her first destination.

“no.”

“you’re lying.”

“no i’m not—“

“i should’ve figured you wouldn’t help me find her. you’ve always been pathetically in love with her, ever since college.” caitlin scoffed out bitterly.

“caitlin—“

“know what? no. you’ve always been on her side, since day one. i can’t even do this right now—“

“you’re frustrated with yourself, about driving y/n away, so your picking a fight with me.” kate spoke calmly, fueling caitlin’s anger.

“don’t fucking psycho analyze me, right now martin.” with that she abruptly ended the call, getting out of the car and walking into the ice cream shop the both of you loved dearly.

after that, she went to your favorite coffee shop, after that, nalyssa’s apartment, then aliyah’s, then the hotel near your apartment.

she held her face in her hands, finally letting the sobs ripple through her. she suddenly realized how under appreciated your voice was. she was forgetting how sweet it was, how beautiful it was when you hummed her to sleep.

she was forgetting your voice already.

and she realized that she should’ve fought harder. should’ve told you how much she loved you, cherished you, needed you.

maybe, just maybe, if she had done that, you wouldn’t be gone.

safe to say caitlin didn’t find you that night, and no one told her where you might’ve went.

#wnba #caitlin clark #caitlin clark fanfic #caitlin x reader #caitlinclark imagine #cc x reader #caitlin clark x reader #wlwnba #wlw post #wlw #wbb x reader #wnba x reader #iowa women’s basketball #iowa hawkeyes #iowa wbb

379 notes · View notes

starkeyisthelastname · 5 months ago

Text

It’s Always Been You Chapter One

Okay.. so here is the first chapter of my first series. Things will get more exciting! Hope you loves enjoy! 🥰 Things are a little different in this universe and don’t necessarily follow the exact OBX plot line. Here is the back plot for anyone who missed!

Back Plot

Rafe is a total dick to other girls, you’ve been warned. 😅

Chapter One:

The girl below him, whose name he couldn’t remember, let out a loud moan as he shoved himself inside her entirely. He pressed her head down into the mattress, telling her to shut the fuck up. He closed his eyes, relishing in the feeling of her cunt as he tried to get a quick nut in that night. It had been a long work week, and tonight he needed a distraction from wanting to go out and get wasted. It was when he was mid stroke that his phone rang on the bedside table. He went to ignore it, but eyes glanced over the caller ID to see it read your name.

“Hey slut, listen to me. Don’t make a fuckin sound when I answer this..” Rafe spat, smacking the girl’s ass hard before sliding his thumb across the screen to answer.

You had plans to go out that night with some friends, but now we’re laying in bed with your makeup done, pajamas on as they had changed their minds, leaving you alone on a Saturday night. As you held your phone up to your ear, you heard the voice of your best friend answer after a few rings.

“What’s up?” He asked, hips not slowing down as he continued to thrust into the girl. “Club doesn’t sound too busy?” He laughed, hearing the sound of a tv in the background.

You were completely oblivious to Rafe having company, and if you did know then you would have probably shut yourself down tonight not wanting to think about all the girls he constantly was fucking that weren’t you. It was your own fault really, but he had been your best friend since before you two knew what that even meant. You couldn’t ruin your lifelong friendship by telling him you’d been in love with him since you both were teenagers.

“The girls changed their minds, don’t ask me why either because I don’t even know.” You laughed, as you were sure it had to do with one of them wanting to see their boyfriend instead. “But… can you come over? I’m bored… and can you bring food?” You asked with a soft giggle. It was when you heard a faint moan in the back, that your heart sank. That wasn’t his tv, and you knew it by the name Rafe being followed. “I-I’m sorry.. I didn’t know you were busy. Um.. just text me later.” You said, clearing your throat as the last thing you wanted was for him to hear the sad tone in your voice. It was best you hang up the call and quickly.

Rafe barely had time to respond, before the call ended. His thrusts completely came to a stop, no longer caring about his nut as he tossed his phone on the bedside table and pulled out. “Get your shit and get the fuck out of my house.” He said, voice cold as he grabbed his sweatpants from the floor. He hated himself for doing this. Meaningless hook ups to avoid how he felt about his best friend, and his anger only grew as he would have completely dropped this whiny bitch to go over to your place in a heart beat.

The girl sat on the bed, frown on her face as she watched Rafe pull the grey sweatpants over his toned hips and grabbed his vape off the dresser to take a hit of. “B- but, I didn’t cum.” She said with a pout, only to earn a mean laugh from the man that had been inside her the only moments before.

“I told you to the shut the fuck up when I was on the phone, think I care that you didn’t get to cum? Better be out of here by the time I get out of the bathroom.” Rafe said causally, walking towards his connected bathroom, not carrying that she mumbled asshole under her breath.

He was an asshole, always had been. That stemmed from some deeper issues that he didn’t talk about often. The only ones who knew about his mental health problems were his family and you, something no random girl would ever understand. He sighed, running a hand through his hair before slamming his fist on the marble counter of the sink. Why was he continuing this torture on himself? Why was he such a pussy about telling you how he felt?

You heard the beep of the alarm, signaling someone had unlocked the front door. There was only a few people who knew the code, your parents, Sarah, Wheezie and Rafe. Walking down the stairs of your townhome, you saw his tall figure stepping in quietly, a bag of food in his hand. You took a sigh, stepping onto the hardwood floor as you looked at him. You wanted to be mad at him, but you couldn’t. There was no reason to be. Right? He was just doing what Rafe Cameron did.

“What are you doing here? I thought you had your little girlfriend over.” You asked, trying to hide the obvious jealousy in your voice. Your fuzzy slippers glided over to where he stood, taking the food sack from him and turning around to head into the living room. You heard him chuckle behind you, but didn’t look back as you plopped yourself onto the couch.

“Not my fucking girlfriend.” Rafe snorted, throwing his keys on the coffee table. “You know I don’t do serious shit.” He said, collapsing down next to you as you pulled the food out from the bag. He didn’t do committed relationships as he was far too busy working at his father’s company, trying his best to become the man he needed to be. In an out of jail, high off blow and after nearly killing someone, he was trying to do right for the people he loved and more importantly himself. The only committed relationship he was willing to be in was with you, that was if he ever manned up enough to tell you.

As you unwrapped your food, you couldn’t help but feel your heart clench at that statement. For as long as you’d known Rafe he’d never dated anyone longer than a month. He was too selfish to be tied down and after everything he had went through during his coke fiend, you knew his focus was work and trying to stay clean. You just wondered if he would ever want anything serious when it came to you.

“And you really thought that bitch was important enough for me to skip coming to hang out with my best friend?” He asked, stealing a fry as he leaned back against the cushion.

Best friend.. and that’s all you would probably would ever be to him. You brushed the thought away, slapping his hand away as he started to reach for another fry. “Why didn’t you just get something if you planned on stealing my food?” You asked with a laugh as he pretended to look hurt that you slapped his hand.

Rafe always seemed to have a stick up his ass for the most part, a brooding look constantly on his handsome face. You knew it was hard for Rafe to let down the wall of being vulnerable, or even his funnier side. You felt lucky that you got to see the side of him that not a lot of people got to experience.

“I just wanted a couple, damn. It’s the least I can get for waiting in that long ass line for some damn chicken strips.” He scoffed, muttering about how the worker was an asshole anyway.

You rolled your eyes, taking a bite of one as he pulled his vape from the pocket of his hoodie to take a hit off. “Please tell me you aren’t gonna complain this much on family vacation.” You said, jokingly, meeting his blue eyes you loved so much as you looked up at him.

Blowing out the cloud of flavorful smoke, he rolled his own eyes before leaning his head back against the couch. “Don’t fucking remind me, that my dad picked fucking Disney World of all places.” He said with a grumble, shuddering at the idea of all the kids he was going to have to be around for 7 days.

It had been a tradition every summer for as long as you could remember that both of your families took a trip together. The first one of this year being Disney World, which you were excited for. Rafe on the other hand would rather go anywhere else than the happiest place on earth.

“Wheezie’s been begging to go for years and we’ve always gone elsewhere. Let your sister be happy.” You said, knowing the thirteen year old hardly got to choose anything that she wanted to do as she was the youngest out of everyone.

“She’s 13. Don’t you think she’s a little old for Mickey Mouse or some bullshit.” Rafe said, eyes traveling back to you. The way you looked so effortlessly beautiful, having washed your face free of makeup. Your hair on top of your head in a messy bun, and cute little set pink pajama set on that hugged those gorgeous curves. He wanted to groan, not only from the thought of leaving for Orlando in a few days but also that he wanted you more than anything he ever wanted in his life. Rafe pretty much got whatever his heart desired, except having you as his girl.

“You are never too old for Disney.” You told him, matter of factly as you continued to eat, completely clueless to the fact his cerulean eyes were bored into you as he watched you.

Rafe let out a small chuckle, shaking his head at the fact you and everyone else seemed to be thrilled about visiting a place he didn’t find so magical. “Are you that excited princess?” He asked, the nickname one you were used to but still felt butterflies when he said it.

Swallowing a bite, you looked up at him to meet his gaze with a nod to your head. Disney was the place where dreams came true and maybe there you would finally have the courage to tell your best friend that you were in love with him.

tag list: @alinavalentine

let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 🌺

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #best friend!rafe #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron prompt #rafe concepts #rafe fluff #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #obx #outer banks

394 notes · View notes

d4yl1ghts · 7 months ago

Note

Hi! I have a king George request!

He saw her one time and from there on he makes sure to be at any event shes at, he starts crushing on her so hard and she becomes his "venus".

So when he has an episode around her she calms him down and they start talking and they kiss for the first time

Cute fluff 😘

Thank uuuuu

venus

king george iii x fem!reader

summary: george takes a liking to you over time and at a ball you help him through an episode

warnings: mental health episodes

You were currently dancing with a young suitor as you felt eyes lustfully taking your figure in. Turning your head sideways, you noticed the King eagerly awaiting for you by the side.

George was awed by your beauty, he had never seen someone so beautiful. Each time his eyes wanted to stray away, they would just land right back on you. He had been harvesting a liking to you for the past few weeks as he had seen you at many balls and events. At each event you were at, he always stood to the side and analysed your features.

Your suitor had finally gone after the dance had finished and so you elegantly made your way over to the King. Once you had reached him, you curtsied. He bashfully smiled. “Hello, Lady Y/N.”, he welcomed you softly. “Hello, your majesty.”, you responded. “I would ask for a dance but I notice your dance card is full but it does not matter, in fact I never really enjoyed dancing.”, he stated kindly. “Yes, I was never one for dancing either, I’d rather be at the side of the ballroom talking to people like you.”, you replied honestly. “Royalty?”, he joked and chuckled. You laughed slightly.

“Would you like to go outside where it is not so crowded?”, he offered. “Yes, of course.”

George gave you his hand and guided you to a secluded area outside. He gazed up at the sky. “Have you ever watched the stars before?”, he questioned. “No, but I would love to.”, you said. He began pointing out the important stars and explaining their history and the lore behind them. You noticed his hand had started trembling but brushed it off. “You’re like Venus.”, he whispered to you. “You always manage to capture my eyes and my mind.”, he said tentatively to you. He felt his hand tremble and his head. “Would you mind getting Reynolds, please?”, he softly asked.

You hurried off to find Reynolds, you didn’t know what was going on but you weren’t going to ask questions about the King’s health. You found Reynolds beside a carriage. “Reynolds, the King has requested you.”, you walked off hastily with Reynolds behind you. You reached George and saw him speaking to himself and his head twitching. “Is he okay?”, you asked concerned. “Lady Y/N, please return to the ball.”, Reynolds commanded. “No, let her stay if she would like.”, George said. You walked closer to George and grabbed his trembling hands.

“It will be alright, your majesty.”, you stated. “Why don’t you tell me about Venus?”, you added, hoping to distract his mind from whatever was going on. “A rare occurrence is coming. Venus will travel in a single arc and give us a single moment to take precise measurements and we shall know the distance from the Earth to the Sun.”, he said with his voice shaking. He paused. “The transit of Venus it is called. It will be quite a spectacle.”, he stated with a lost look in his eyes. “I’m sure it will, it sounds very intriguing and important for the study of astronomy.”, you mentioned as you noticed his hands had stopped trembling so violently.

Reynolds was stood off to the side, allowing you your moment. His head stopped twitching and he was no longer mumbling incoherent words. Your hands still held his and he tightened his grip on yours. He gazed at you. “I am sorry.”, he said pitifully. “For what?”, you asked. “I am a mad man.”, he turned his eyes to his hands. “George, you are no mad man. I see a kind and funny man.”, you stated genuinely. You looked into his eyes and gently pecked his lips before he kissed back hungrily. “I must head back. I hope to see you in the future, Lady Y/N.”, he kissed your hand gently. You smiled at him and bid your goodbyes.

#king george iii #king george bridgerton #king george x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton oneshot #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x female reader

721 notes · View notes

marysfics · 1 month ago

Text

Shifting Glances 2

Week after week, you see her in the waiting room.

Angst, EMDR, Comfort, Fluff

Part 1

Note: In this story, you'll find references to EMDR therapy. I’ve undergone EMDR therapy myself for several years, and while it has been challenging, it has also brought me relief. It's important to note that EMDR can be a unique experience for everyone. The way it's depicted here reflects my personal journey. If your experience with EMDR is different, that's completely okay. Feel free to share your thoughts, but let's all remember to approach these discussions with kindness and respect for one another's experiences.

The next time you see Alexia, it’s different.

It’s not the waiting room glance or the brief nod of acknowledgment. This time, she’s sitting across from you at a small café just down the street from the clinic. The air is heavy with the scent of coffee and the quiet hum of conversation, but you feel like you’re in a bubble, isolated from the world. The connection between you has grown since that night outside the clinic, and though you’ve met up a few times now, the weight of the unspoken things between you has only intensified.

You’re sipping on your drink, watching her fingers nervously trace the rim of her cup. She’s quieter today, more reserved. You can see it in the tightness of her jaw, the way her leg bounces restlessly beneath the table. She’s holding something back.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of silence, she speaks.

“It’s my knee,” she says quietly, her voice carrying a heavy undertone of frustration. “The doctors thought it healed, you know? Two years of rehab, and I thought I was fine. But… after a few matches, it’s been acting up again.”

She looks up at you, and the vulnerability in her eyes nearly undoes you.

“I don’t know if I can do this again,” she admits, her voice cracking slightly. “I thought I was past it, that I could just… move on. But now I’m back to square one, and it’s messing with my head.”

You listen, the guilt already rising in your chest. You want to offer her comfort, to be there for her like you promised. But the walls you’ve built around yourself—those same walls that have protected you for so long—won’t come down. You can’t find the words, can’t let yourself be as open as she is being with you.

“I don’t think people understand,” she continues, her gaze distant, as if she’s lost in memories. “It’s not just the physical pain. It’s like… everything I worked for feels like it’s slipping away again. The surgery, the rehab, the time off—I went through all of that, and now, here I am, questioning if my body will ever be what it was. If I will ever be what I was.”

Her words hang in the air between you, thick with unspoken fears and the weight of her struggle. She’s opening up, showing you the cracks in her armor. And yet, you can’t bring yourself to do the same.

“I’m sorry, Alexia,” you say, your voice soft but hesitant. It feels like a weak offering, barely enough for the depth of what she’s sharing. “That must be really hard.”

She looks at you, her eyes searching yours, as if she’s waiting for more. Waiting for you to open up in return, to meet her vulnerability with your own.

But you can’t.

Instead, you offer a small nod, a quiet acknowledgment of her pain. You feel like a coward, sitting there with your heart locked up tight while she’s spilling hers out on the table between you.

“I just…” she hesitates, her voice trembling slightly. “I don’t know who I am without football. And now, with this happening again, it’s like everything I thought I’d regained is slipping away. My confidence, my mental health—everything.”

Her words hit you hard, because you understand exactly what she means. You know the feeling of losing parts of yourself, of watching pieces of your identity crumble. But still, you remain silent, trapped in your own fear.

Alexia takes a shaky breath, wiping at her eyes quickly, trying to hide the tears that are forming. “I’m sorry. I’m dumping all of this on you, and you… you barely even know me.”

“No,” you say quickly, feeling the guilt twist tighter in your chest. “I’m glad you’re telling me. I just—I don’t know how to help. I wish I could.”

You hate how hollow the words sound. She’s reaching out, and you’re standing on the edge, unable to take that leap with her.

“I don’t need you to fix anything,” she says softly, her gaze holding yours. “I just… I need someone to understand. And for some reason, I feel like you do.”

Her words make your heart ache, because she’s right. You do understand. You understand the pain, the fear, the uncertainty of not knowing who you are anymore. But the thought of opening up about it, of letting her see the parts of you that you’ve buried for so long, is terrifying.

“I wish I could be more… open,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s hard for me. There’s a lot I’m still trying to figure out.”

Alexia’s expression softens, and she reaches across the table, her hand brushing lightly against yours. It’s a small gesture, but it feels monumental.

“I get it,” she says gently. “I do. But just… promise me you’ll try. We don’t have to talk about it right now, but… when you’re ready, I’ll be here. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to go through whatever it is alone.”

Her words are so kind, so understanding, and it makes you feel even worse. You’re sitting here, feeling her pain, but you can’t bring yourself to reciprocate that vulnerability. You want to, but the walls you’ve built are so high, so thick, that you don’t know how to bring them down.

“I promise I’ll try,” you say quietly, though it feels like a lie, even as you say it.

She nods, offering you a small, sad smile, as if she knows that your promise is just as fragile as you feel. And maybe she does. Maybe she knows that breaking down those walls takes time—more time than either of you might have expected.

The rest of the conversation drifts into safer territory after that. You talk about small things—her training regimen, your next therapy session, the little frustrations of everyday life. But there’s an unspoken tension between you, a knowledge that you’re both holding something back. For her, it’s the fear of losing everything she’s worked for. For you, it’s the fear of letting anyone get too close.

As you part ways, Alexia pulls you into a brief, tentative hug. It catches you off guard, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you let her hold you, if only for a moment, and in that embrace, you feel the weight of everything you haven’t said.

And as you walk home, the guilt gnaws at you. You know she’s trying to break through to you, to offer you the same understanding you’ve given her. But no matter how much you want to, you can’t let her in. Not yet.

Maybe one day.

But for now, the walls remain firmly in place, and you can only hope that when you’re finally ready to let them fall, she’ll still be there, waiting for you.

The next week, you wake up with a knot in your stomach. It’s an ominous feeling that lingers, whispering that today’s session is going to be harder than usual. You push it aside, forcing yourself to get out of bed and go through your morning routine. But the feeling doesn’t fade; it clings to you like a shadow, and you can’t shake the sense of dread.

When you arrive at the clinic, the usual air of anticipation is replaced by a heavy sense of anxiety. You check in with the receptionist and take a seat in the waiting area, your heart pounding as you wait for your therapist to call you in.

After what feels like an eternity, your therapist, Dr. Collins, finally opens the door and gestures for you to come inside. “Hi there,” she says, her tone warm and inviting, but you can sense her professional concern. “How are you feeling today?”

“Uh, not great,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. You can’t meet her gaze, focusing instead on the floor, as if it might ground you in the swirling chaos of your emotions.

Dr. Collins nods, leading you to the familiar chair in her office. “That’s understandable. EMDR can bring up a lot, especially when we’re working through difficult memories. Let’s take it one step at a time, okay?”

You nod, but your stomach churns as she sets up the equipment. The rhythmic beeping begins, and you know you’ll have to confront things you’d rather keep buried.

“Take a deep breath,” she instructs gently, her eyes steady on yours. “Focus on your thoughts, your feelings, and what comes up. You’re safe here.”

As the session progresses, you find yourself slipping into a dark place—a memory of a childhood fight with your mother that you thought you had buried. The anger, the confusion, the hurt—everything comes flooding back. Your breath quickens, and panic begins to rise.

“Focus on the feelings, the sensations in your body,” Dr. Collins urges, her voice a steady anchor in the storm. “You’re safe. Just let it flow.”

But it’s harder today. You feel like you’re drowning in it, and the sensations become overwhelming. Each pulse of light from the machine feels like a wave crashing over you, and the emotions threaten to pull you under.

“I can’t—I can’t do this!” you gasp, gripping the armrests of the chair.

“Just a little longer,” she replies, her voice calm yet firm. “Stay with it. You can do this.”

Finally, when the session ends, you stumble out of the office, your heart racing and your skin clammy. You feel nauseous, the world spinning around you.

“Take your time,” Dr. Collins calls after you as you exit the room. “It’s normal to feel this way after a session. Just breathe.”

But you barely hear her as you push through the waiting area, desperately needing air. You step outside, the cool breeze hitting your face like a splash of cold water. It feels like a brief reprieve, but it does little to alleviate the sickness in your stomach.

And then you see her.

Alexia is sitting in the waiting room, her knee propped up on a chair, her expression a mixture of worry and relief. The moment she sees you, her face lights up, but it quickly shifts to concern as she takes in your pale complexion and the sheen of sweat on your forehead.

“Hey!” she calls out, her voice strained with worry. She rises, limping slightly, and instinctively, you feel your heart clench. “You’re late. I was getting worried.”

“I—I had my session,” you manage to say, though your voice trembles, and you can feel the nausea rising again.

“What happened?” she asks, approaching you slowly, her brow furrowing deeper with concern. You can see the tension in her shoulders, a reminder of her own struggles, and suddenly you wish you could lean on her, but the walls are still up.

“Are you okay?” she asks, her voice laced with urgency. “You’re early. I thought you weren’t coming.”

You swallow hard, trying to steady yourself. “I—uh, it was… really hard today.” Your voice is shaky, and you can see the worry deepen in her gaze as she takes in your pale face.

“Come on, let’s get you some air,” she insists, her hand gently guiding your elbow. But as she moves closer, you notice the slight limp in her gait. “Wait,” you say, alarmed. “Your knee—”

“It’s fine,” she cuts you off, though her expression betrays her. “I just want to help you. Come on.”

Despite your protests, she leads you out of the clinic and into the fresh air. The moment you step outside, you feel a wave of coolness wash over you, but it’s not enough to quell the sickness rolling in your stomach. You take a moment to breathe, but Alexia is already taking charge, her determination unyielding.

“Let’s go to my place,” she says. “You need to rest. I can’t just leave you like this.”

“No, Alexia, I can’t—” you start to argue, but the look in her eyes silences you. She’s limping but still firm, her concern for you overshadowing her own struggles.

“Please,” she pleads. “Just let me take care of you for a bit. You look like you need it.”

You hesitate, torn between your desire for solitude and the undeniable pull of her concern. “Alexia, I don’t want to impose—”

“Stop.” She interrupts, her voice firm yet gentle. “You’re not imposing. You need someone, and I want to help. Just let me be there for you for once.”

The sincerity in her voice makes it hard to argue. Maybe you do need someone right now. And despite your reservations, you find yourself nodding, letting her lead you out of the clinic.

As you walk together, you can’t help but glance at her knee, concern prickling at the back of your mind. “Are you sure you’re okay to walk? I mean, you’re limping…”

Alexia shrugs it off, though you can see the grimace that flashes across her face. “It’s just a little sore from the last few recovery sessions. I’ll be fine.”

You don’t know if you believe her, but you’re too exhausted to press the matter further. The two of you reach her apartment, and she pushes the door open, ushering you inside. The familiar surroundings feel different somehow, heavier with the weight of your emotions.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she says, leading you to the couch. “I’ll get you some water.”

You sink into the cushions, trying to settle your racing heart as you watch her move about the small space. She’s taken the time to make it her own, with photos on the walls and plants dotting the shelves. But even in this comfort, you feel a tightness in your chest, a reminder of everything you’ve just unearthed.

“Here,” she says, returning with a glass of water and a concerned expression. “Drink this.”

You take the glass, your fingers brushing against hers. The touch sends a jolt of warmth through you, and for a moment, you let yourself feel grateful for her presence. “Thanks,” you mumble, trying to focus on the water rather than the chaos in your mind.

After a few sips, you set the glass down and exhale shakily. “I’m sorry for dragging you away from your session. You didn’t have to do this.”

Alexia sits down beside you, her expression softening. “I wanted to. It’s okay to lean on someone, you know? You don’t always have to be the strong one.”

Her words hang heavy in the air, and the guilt twists in your stomach again. You want to tell her how much it means to you that she cares, how deeply you appreciate her willingness to be there. But the walls are still up, the barriers you’ve built holding you captive.

Yet beneath that weight, there’s another feeling rising within you—an overwhelming desire to feel her close, to have her warmth beside you, to let go of the isolation that’s been your constant companion. The thought scares you. The fear of vulnerability mingles with a yearning for connection, and it sends your heart racing.

“Alexia,” you find yourself saying, your voice trembling slightly. “Can we… could you stay close for a bit?”

She looks at you, surprise flickering in her eyes, but then her expression softens. “Of course. You don’t have to ask twice.”

You shift a little on the couch, turning to face her, your heart pounding in your chest. As she settles in next to you, her body fitting against yours, a wave of comfort washes over you. She wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a gentle spooning position. Her warmth envelops you, grounding you in a way you didn’t know you needed.

You close your eyes, grateful for her presence and the soothing rhythm of her breathing. You can feel the subtle rise and fall of her chest against your back, and for a moment, everything else fades away—the memories, the pain, the suffocating anxiety. All that matters is this connection, this shared space that feels both safe and terrifying.

“Is this okay?” she whispers softly, her voice a soothing balm against the tumult of your thoughts.

You nod, feeling a weight lift slightly as her embrace tightens around you. “Yeah, it’s perfect,” you murmur, though the admission feels both exhilarating and frightening. It’s one thing to crave closeness; it’s another to let someone in this deeply.

“Good,” she replies, her breath warm against your ear. “Just breathe. I’m here.”

You focus on that reassurance, letting it seep into your bones. With her close, you can almost forget the turmoil swirling within you, the fears and insecurities that cling like shadows. You let the moment wash over you, finding solace in the shared silence, the warmth radiating from her body anchoring you to the present.

As the minutes pass, the tension in your chest begins to ease. You can hear the faint sounds of the show playing in the background, but all you’re aware of is the comfort of her hold and the gentle rise and fall of her breath. For the first time in what feels like forever, you feel a sense of belonging.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” you finally say, the words spilling out before you can second-guess yourself.

“I’m glad too,” Alexia replies, her voice soft and steady. “You don’t have to face anything alone. I promise.”

You close your eyes tighter, trying to let that promise sink in, trying to let go of the guilt that threatens to creep back in. As you lay there, cocooned in her embrace, you realize that maybe, just maybe, this is the first step toward letting those walls down—one small moment of connection at a time.

#woso x reader #woso community #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas fanfic #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

244 notes · View notes

iwasntstable · 2 months ago

Text

n.s. | if i'm there

╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌

➔𝐢𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞��➔　𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦!+　　[𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝐀𝐎𝟯]

╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌

I didn't want to believe how much you needed help / And I just left you to be all by yourself / And now I wish I had seen that you weren't doing well / But I just came back to see how hard you fell Well, if I'm there to catch you when you fall / You'll have a friend down in Hell after all 　　— If I'm There - Bad Omens

summary: when things start getting bad, you withdraw. ignoring calls and texts, and descending into bad habits as you self-isolate. but noah knows what you're like and he loves you too much to let you suffer alone.

content tags: angst, emotional hurt/comfort, poor mental health, mentions of disordered eating, discussions of food, self-destructive behaviour, fluff.

word count: 3.8k.

note: having a rough time recently so enjoy the self-indulgent product of my stressing. 　　PS: please tell me if the layout of this post is fucked up so I can fix it for you.

Things are getting bad again. You find your sleep schedule sliding later and later, falling asleep in the early hours of the morning and waking in the afternoon, bypassing the day altogether. Meals are becoming infrequent and poor in quality. Appetite dwindling and opting to eat half a bag of microwave rice at 3am rather than dedicating time to creating a nutritious and satisfying meal. Truth be told, you didn’t have the energy to cook anything more, and the malnutrition itself likely played a part in that lack of energy. The trash was left to build up, and the laundry hadn’t been done in weeks.

The progression of all of this was gradual. So gradual, that by the time you recognised what was happening, it was all but too late to stop the rapid descent into your depression. And as the days go by, you start to withdraw into yourself. Messages from friends begin to go unanswered. You tell yourself you’ll reply later, when you have the mental bandwidth to engage in conversation. But later ends up being not at all. Too many days have passed, and you feel like it’s too late to reply now; you don’t know how. That includes your boyfriend.

　　　　　　　　　　　[Noah 💘]

　　　　　　　　　　　Tuesday 　　　　　　　　　　　10:45AM

— Morning! Do you wanna call later? Miss your voice

morning! I have a headache — right now and I feel like it's not gonna go away :( I'll let you know though. I miss you too ❤️ —

— Aw I'm sorry :( — I hope you feel better soon — Text me later and let me know how you are ❤️

　　　　　　　　　　　02:27PM

— Hey babe how are you feeling?

my head still hurts :( —

— Want me to come over and look after you? — Have you eaten yet?

you don't have to do that, I'd be — shitty company anyway just wanna sleep —

— Okay :( — I'll text you later tonight so you can sleep

　　　　　　　　　　　10:09PM

— How are you feeling? — Are you sleeping? — Hope you’re resting well. Text me when you wake up so I know you’re okay — I love you ❤️ — Goodnight ❤️

　　　　　　　　　　Wednesday 　　　　　　　　　　　08:41AM

— Morning, how’re you feeling?

　　　　　　　　　　　09:13AM

— Are you awake? — Babe, are you okay?

hey! sorry I was still asleep. I feel a — little better but my head still hurts :(

— I’m gonna cancel today and come over — I don’t want you to be alone when you’re not well

no don’t do that, i’m okay really — you know this happens sometimes. I just wanna rest, you don’t have to cancel for me. not when work is important

— You’re important too — Please let me look after you

I love you and I love that — you want to be here for me, but all I want to do right now is sleep

I don’t want you to cancel — important schedules just to watch me sleep all day I’ll feel better soon. just need to give it time. —

— I’d cancel to sit and watch you sleep in a heartbeat — I love you, I just want you to be okay — I have to go, I’ll text you later okay?

I’ll text you back when I can, — if I don’t reply I’m probably asleep so don’t worry have a good day I love you —

　　　　　　　　　　　10:26PM

— Hey babe sorry I didn’t text all day I was so fucking busy — How’re you doing now? — Are you sleeping again?

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 10:31PM]

— Text or call me when you wake up, even if it’s the middle of the night I’ll leave my sound on — I love you ❤️

　　　　　　　　　　Thursday 　　　　　　　　　　　08:41AM

— Hey, are you awake?

　　　　　　　　　　　08:55AM

— Hello??

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 08:59AM]

— Message me when you wake up

　　　　　　　　　　　12:20PM

— Babe?? — I’m worried — Even if you don’t wanna talk can you please let me know you’re okay?

　　　　　　　　　　　12:46PM

— Babe please answer me

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 12:48PM]

　　　　　　　　　　　01:20PM

hey, sorry I missed your messages — I’m okay sorry for worrying you —

— I was just about to come over — I still might — I’m worried about you

please don’t I just don’t — wanna see anyone right now

— Even me?

I’m sorry — I’ll text you tomorrow — — If that’s what you want — I love you

　　　　　　　　　　　Friday 　　　　　　　　　　　03:47PM

— I don’t want to bother you, I’m trying to give you space if that’s what you need — But I’m worried about you — You haven’t messaged me all day — Did I do something wrong?

　　　　　　　　　　　04:10PM

— Babe please answer me

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 04:12PM]

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 04:15PM]

　　　　　　　　　　　04:18PM

— Your friends said they haven’t heard from you in days — What’s going on? You can talk to me. — You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to but text someone back, please — I just wanna know that you’re okay

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 04:23PM]

And that’s how Noah ended up outside your door. Banging incessantly and shouting your name through the wood. You could hear him from where you were wrapped up in bed, but you were half hoping he would just drop it and go away. Realising quickly, however, the futility of that hope when you heard another voice join the sound of his. That of your neighbour, the nosy one from the house on the right.

You groan and throw the blanket off yourself, flinching a little when your feet touch the cold floor. You have no choice but to go downstairs, and no time to change your appearance. Hoping to whatever God will listen that Noah doesn’t make a comment on the clothes you’d been wearing for the past week before you can get in the shower and change.

“I’m just really worried about her,” you can hear the unmistakable tone of Noah’s voice through the door before you even open it.

Hesitating for a moment with your hand on the door handle, you decide to eavesdrop on the conversation. “I haven’t seen her for, ohhh let me think... has to be about a week now,” despite the man’s voice wavering with age, it came loud and clear through the door. An unfortunate side effect of his hearing loss.

“A week?!” Noah exclaimed. Having enough of the old man sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong, you unlock the door quickly, wrenching it open and taking a surprised Noah by the arm.

“Oh! Nice to see you, dear. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” The old man sneers.

“Yeah, nice seeing you, Trevor,” you barely extend him a glance as you drag Noah in through your doorway, slamming the door closed and turning the key. You let out a deep sigh, your palms and forehead resting against the cool wood.

Noah calls your name softly. You squeeze your eyes tight and take in a breath before you turn to face him. Putting on the best phoney smile you can muster.

“Sorry about him, he’s always in everyone’s business. What are you-”

“He said he hasn’t seen you in a week,” he says matter-of-factly. There’s no hint of a smile on his face. “Your friends said they haven’t heard from you in days either, and you’ve been ignoring my texts. And calls.”

Your heart seizes at the sadness in his eyes. He stands there in your front room, his usual sweatpants and hoodie, but he just looks so defeated. You always tell him he looks like an upset puppy when he’s sad, and the puppy-dog eyes are working overtime on you right now. “I told you, I’ve just been busy, and I-”

“And you had a headache, and you missed my texts, and you didn’t want to talk,” his voice was as stern as his expression. You knew he wasn’t an idiot. That there’s no way he’d believe your—at best—flimsy excuses. You stand frozen to the spot, fiddling with the edge of your sleeve. Picking at the stitches, trying to distract yourself from the lump forming in your throat. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” Noah questions.

You swallow roughly, “I don’t know what you... I don’t-”

He says your name firmly and takes a step towards you, “I’m going to ask you how you are, and I would like you to answer me honestly.”

Feeling your heart begin to race in your chest, you swallow again, but it does nothing to get rid of the tightness in your throat. Or the dizziness creeping up on you.

“Are you doing bad again?” He sounds softer this time, and you almost wish he would just scream at you because when he’s kind and attentive like this, you can’t help but crumble and shut down.

You clench your jaw as your breathing gets quicker, shallower, and you feel the unmistakable burn of tears in your eyes. “I’m fine,” your voice comes out cracked and weak, not at all the sound of someone who's fine.

“Don’t pretend you’re okay. Please don’t lie to me, because I know you’re not okay!” Noah crosses the room to meet you, holding his hands outstretched towards you, “what can I do for you? Please, I want to help.”

You cover your mouth as you choke back a sob, wrapping your other arm around your middle; you can’t hold it in anymore, and the floodgates open. Gasping for breath that seems to never come, you grip the front of your shirt tight in your fist, the clothing suddenly feeling suffocating and stiflingly hot.

“Oh, baby. Come here,” Noah takes you by the shoulders and pulls you into his chest, where you fall into him and cling onto him like he’s your only lifeline. “I need you to breathe for me, okay? Slowly, in and out,” he strokes soothing circles against your back as he demonstrates to you how to breathe. “Come and sit down here, yeah? The couch is right here.”

You barely register your legs moving for the numbness extending across your entire body, from your fingertips all the way down to your toes. Your tears are hot on your face, and every time you try to wipe them away, they’re just replaced by more in a never-ending stream. The room feels like it’s spinning around you as you move, only worsening the feeling of nausea rising in your throat. The plush cushions of the couch are a welcome relief.

“You’re holding your breath, I need you to breathe. Just how I am, that’s it,” he cradles your head to his chest through your shaky attempts to take in a breath through your nose and let it out slowly through your mouth. Your breath hitches uncontrollably with every inhale, taking in tiny bursts of air at a time. Noah, though, has nothing but praise on his lips: “That’s it. You’re doing so well, just listen to my voice.”

You missed his voice. As you worsened and withdrew, you found any excuse to avoid going out to see him, and you had been ignoring his calls for days. You knew you were doing it, and you missed him desperately, but with every day that passed, you found it harder and harder to reach out. It was hard for you to reach out for help in the first place, hard for you to admit to anyone that you needed help. Hard to admit it to yourself. Opting instead to suffer in silence and just push through it until you finally broke. You didn’t know any other way.

The familiar presence of him by your side eases the pace of your racing heart, allowing each breath to come a little easier. A little calmer. “I hate to see you hurting like this,” he whispers into your hair, his hand stroking through it gently, working to soothe the seemingly unquenchable anxiety. “I want to help you, please let me help you.”

It broke your heart to hear the pain in his voice. You never wanted to hurt him, but that’s all you seem to do. That cold hand of dread tightens its grip on your chest again, panic filling your lungs and replacing all the air. “I’m sorry,” you barely choke out, gripping onto Noah tighter. Warring with yourself, wanting to hold him close, but feeling like you need to push him away.

“You don’t need to apologise, ever. I’m here, I’m right here,” he runs his hand up and down your back, cradling you close. He can’t help but notice that through the fabric of your shirt, the bones of your spine are ever so slightly more prominent than before. He keeps his mouth shut. Focussing instead on quelling your distress and holding you tight in his arms.

“I just- I fuck everything up. I can’t do anything right, I don’t deserve your love, I don’t deserve you-” Once you start talking, you can’t stop, finally letting it all out until Noah cuts you off, incapable of hearing you degrade yourself anymore.

“No. No, that’s not even remotely true. Don’t say that about yourself,” he says firmly, holding you just a little tighter.

You shake your head against him, “all I do is hurt people and push you away, and I don’t know how to stop. You don’t deserve that, you shouldn’t have to put up with me.”

“I don’t ‘put up with you’. I love you, and I want to be here for you. Whatever you need, whenever you need it.”

“You shouldn’t have to drop everything to come deal with me when you’re so busy. You deserve someone that isn’t so fucking hard to love.”

With that, Noah pushes you backwards by the shoulders, holding you there so he can look into your eyes when he speaks. “You are not hard to love. Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever had the privilege of doing. You just…” He takes a deep breath, cupping your cheek and brushing away the tears from under your eyes. “You just need to let me in, and let me show you you’re just as worthy of love as anyone else is.”

The image of him blurs when the tears overflow from your eyes again, your face crumpling as you bow your head. “You’ll leave me," your voice shaking with the force of your sobs.

"Why would you ever think I'd leave you?" he asks, dismayed by your fear.

"Everyone always leaves," you tell him, voice brittle and quiet, shaking your head. "It's only a matter of time before you leave too."

"I love you," Noah feels tears prick at his own eyes. "I love you so, so much. And I'm not going anywhere." He lifts your head, once again brushing away your tears so he can look into your eyes, "please trust me to help you."

"I'm just so tired," you confess, and he pulls you into his arms again.

“I can't promise to fix all your problems, but I can promise you won't have to face them alone. There’s nothing you could do that would drive me away. And the things that would, I know you’d never do,” he runs a comforting hand through your hair as you cry, his other arm secure around your waist. Your tears soak into his shirt, but he doesn’t mind. He wants you to give it all to him—all your sorrows, all your grief—so that he can bear it with you.

You desperately want to believe his words. To lean on him when you need him the most, but that insecure piece inside of you won’t let you yield. You don’t know how to open up to anyone without feeling like a burden.

Noah stays right there with you until the tears subside and your breathing evens out. Your head resting in his lap as he reassuringly strokes your hair, you feel the beginnings of a dull ache in your head that makes you drowsy. He rubs soothing circles into your back with his other hand, shifting slightly to get a better look at your face. “Have you eaten yet today?” He asks tentatively. Feeling your throat constrict under the pressure of guilt, you know you can’t lie to him. You know he sees right through you, so you decide to try being honest by shaking your head. “Want me to cook something for you? Or we can order something? My treat.”

You know he means well, but you don’t know how to say you don’t have an appetite without worrying him. He won’t let you go the entire day without eating, but all you want to do is sleep.

“Please talk to me,” he pleads, “I need to hear you.”

On a shaky breath, you settle for a half truth. “I don’t think there’s anything to cook.”

“That’s fine, we can order food then. What do you want?”

Chewing on your lip, you freeze. The silence stretches on far too long for you to be deciding what restaurant to order from, it’s clear you’re unable to answer.

Noah sighs your name, “you have to eat something.”

“I know. I just… I just don’t want to,” he remains quiet, waiting for you to continue. “I don’t feel hungry. Thinking about it is overwhelming. I just want to sleep so I don’t have to think about it.”

“What have you been eating these past few days?” He asks cautiously, his tone light. Conscious to not sound accusatory.

You sigh, knowing there’s no way of escaping this. “Microwave stuff, mostly,” you play with the fabric of his sweatpants, feeling his leg underneath, fidgeting your anxiety away. “Rice, oats, ramen. Stuff I don’t have to wash up after.”

“Have you been eating every day?”

The question hangs heavy in the air, the tension only thickening when you answer "no,” barely above a whisper.

You feel him nod. Quiet for a moment until he too speaks so quietly, you almost didn’t hear it. “You can’t go on like this.”

“I know,” you confess.

“Please let me help you.”

The desperation in his voice is what does it—the final straw. You sit up straight, turning to face him. Wiping the residual tears from your cheeks and looking him in the eye. You know it’s time to really be honest.

“It’s hard for me-” Your voice catches in your throat as the threat of crying again creeps up on you, not quite realising how much your body would resist. Taking a second to compose yourself—a deep breath in, eyes closed, releasing it slowly—your resolve strengthens and you continue. “It’s hard for me to open up to people. To admit when I’m struggling. I’m so used to feeling like I’m burdening everyone with my problems, so I just keep it all to myself. And by the time I realise I’m going down that road again, it’s too late to stop it.”

“It’s never too late,” Noah says reassuringly, tucking both sides of your hair behind your ears—the left first, then the right. “I mean this in the most loving way possible, but you don’t get to decide whether you’re a burden. You don’t get to take that choice away from me. The choice to help you. Your problems will never be a burden to me, no matter how big or small. You will never be a burden to me. I love you. I choose you. And I’ll never think poorly of you for needing help, ever.”

You don’t know what to say. Your eyes fixed on his. One of your favourite things about him is his big brown eyes. Always so full of comfort. So full of love that even you, with all of your self-doubt, can’t deny it. “I’m sorry. I know you said not to apologise, but I think I need to. I’m sorry for making you worry and for pushing you away. I’m sorry for hurting you.”

Noah takes your hands in his. Large palms enveloping your own entirely. “Seeing you hurting is what hurts me the most. I love you so much, all I want is for you to be happy and healthy.”

You squeeze his hands in yours, “I love you, Noah. I’ll try harder, I promise. Feeling so unwanted for so long before I met you, I think I didn’t realise just how lucky I am to have you until now.” Noah raises one of your hands, kissing the back firmly and holding it there, savouring the feel of your skin against his lips. Timidly, you ask, “can we get pizza?”

He breaks out into a smile, “of course we can! But you have to text your friends back first," he bargains, "even if it’s just something short.”

“Deal,” you can’t help but return his smile. “My phone is upstairs, I’m just gonna go get it.”

“Wait!” he calls as you stand, pulling you back to the sofa and into him with a hand on the back of your head, “can I kiss you first?”

Without a word, you lean into him, closing the gap between you and feeling his lips on yours for the first time in weeks. That familiar burn of tears threatening to escape your eyes returns, and when you pull away, those beautiful brown eyes are full of concern.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, laughing awkwardly, “happy tears. I just missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” his smile taking on a more solemn appearance this time. “But I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I love you, please don’t ever forget that.”

“Don’t forget that I love you too. No matter what happens. No matter how stupidly self-destructive I act.”

Noah pulls you in for one final embrace before letting you retrieve your phone. You spend time texting back each of your friends, apologising for your absence and telling them you were okay, that Noah is here, and you’d explain more later. Noah, sitting at your right, creates your pizza order, periodically asking what else you’d like adding.

The two of you spend the night watching trash TV, settling into your usual comfort and hurling insults at the characters for making stupid decisions while you eat your food. Only realising after it arrived just how hungry you really were. And when you’re finished eating, Noah and you head upstairs.

You feel like a new person after you shower, coming out of the bathroom to find Noah relaxed against your headboard. The sheets on your bed changed, and a fresh set of clothes lay waiting for you to change into for bed.

Accepting finally how much lighter everything feels when someone is around to help you. You slide under the clean sheets, comforted by the warmth of Noah’s body beside you for the first time in too long. And just as you fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat and the feeling of his hand stroking your back, you’re determined to never let things get this bad again. Knowing you need to trust him, because trust is the foundation of love, and you love Noah with every fibre of your being. And despite how hard it is sometimes, you need to let him love you back.

╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌

✉ C:/SYSTEM/APP/TAG

ᯤ 𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗦 (21) :　 ⌞⬤ 7 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾⌝ @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning | @english-fucker @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard | @seven-glass-kids @runadaggerthroughmychest

@lma1986 | @shayzillaaaa

⌞⬤ 5 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒⌝ @madamaaubergine | @thewrstinme | @amourtoken @livingdeceasedgirl | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare

⌞⦵ 5 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖻⌝ @xcllnt | @romanreigns-supreme | @slutforcoffein @deathofpeaceofmindem | @lovesick-evangelist

⌞◯ 4 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾⌝ @bluestdai | @fadingangelwisp | @broken0mens @ferduttini

　+[MSG : join the taglist!]

╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌

#so if noah could come over and drag me out of this pit i'm in that would be great!#noah sebastian #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfic #bad omens #bad omens cult #fluff #angst #C:/PROJECTS/MYWORK/ONESHOT #C:/PROJECTS/SEARCH/TAG/ANGST #C:/PROJECTS/SEARCH/TAG/FLUFF #C:/PROJECTS/SEARCH/TAG/EMOTIONALHURTCOMFORT

206 notes · View notes

worldlxvlys · 9 months ago

Text

my eyes only (part 4)

jealous! chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: cursing, reader is in a toxic relationship, smuttt, p in v, cream pie, choking, oral (fem receiving), squirting, masturbation, use of vibrator, cheating

** i’m not promoting cheating in the slightest, this is fiction. please do not cheat on anyone.

a/n: part 4 was highly requested sooo here it is <33

previous part

“it was an accident!” i yelled for what had to be the tenth time.

“how the hell do you accidentally send someone nudes ?” charlie yelled back.

i let a heavy sigh as i rolled my eyes, “hey, don’t roll your eyes at me”

my face scrunched up at that, “i can do whatever the hell i want with my own eyes, charlie. i don’t know why you think you can control my every move” he looked like he wanted to make a snarky comment at that, but i stopped him, “and why were you going through my phone?” i asked.

he looked take aback at the fact that i knew, “ i didn’t” he spoke defensively.

“so you weren’t going through me and chris’s texts?” i asked.

he sighed, giving up the act, “ok, fine. yes i went through your texts once. it was awhile ago, though”

“you are un-fucking-believable, charlie. how am i supposed to trust you when you don’t even trust me?” i asked.

“i know, it’s just-”i cut him off, “your past relationships, i know. but that doesn’t give you the right to go through my phone”

his eyebrows scrunched up at that, “are you trying to invalidate my feelings right now?” he asked.

my eyes widened at that, “i-no! what are you talking about?”

“i mean, you just basically told me that what i went through in the past means nothing to you”

“charlie, when did i say that?” i asked incredulously.

“whatever. i just can’t believe you’re pulling this shit while i’m going through such a hard time. i mean, you know how much stress i’ve been dealing with because of work, and now i have to worry about my girlfriend sending nudes to another guy”

my face softened at this, realizing that there was some truth to what he was saying.

although i would never admit it out loud, i did send chris those nudes on purpose. and on top of that, i gave him access to several of my explicit videos.

thank god charlie didn’t know about that part.

it was wrong of me to do, but when it came to chris, every logical thought of mine flew out the window.

my boyfriend was an asshole, but that didn’t give me the right to add onto his stress.

“i’m sorry, you’re right. it won’t happen again. what can i do to make it up to you?” i asked as i rubbed his shoulders.

i wasn’t an idiot. i knew that i was better off breaking things off with him, but i was scared. as fucked up as our relationship was, it was one of the only constant things in my life. and although it was dangerous for my mental health, it was safe.

change is inevitable, but it’s also uncontrollable in most situations. and this situation was one of the rare cases where i had full control.

“stop talking to him.” my heart dropped at this.

“what? you want me to just stop talking to someone who i’ve been friends with for years?” by the tone of my voice, he could probably tell that i wasn’t going to do it.

“ok, you’re right, that’s unreasonable. but, maybe just back off of him a little?” he asked.

“please? it would help ease my mind” he spoke as he squeezed my waist, his grip tighter than usual.

i had been with charlie long enough to read him pretty well. his mood could flip in a matter of seconds, and it was quite frightening to experience. sometimes, when he was seconds away from doing it, he would squeeze my hip or shoulder firmly. this was obviously one of those times where my answer would determine how the rest of the night went.

he had never hurt me before, but i was still always careful not to set him off.

“ok, yeah” i nodded my head at him.

“i need to hear you say it” he said, refusing to let go of me.

“i’ll back off of him” i said.

he let go of me, a grin taking over his features, “thank you, baby. i really appreciate it”

i nodded at him, smiling weakly.

1 WEEK LATER

CHRIS’S POV

“it was a mistake”, those were the words she said a week ago. those words led me to believe that she would change her my eyes only password.

wrong.

because when i opened her my eyes only the day after she sent that text, the password worked.

she added more videos to the collection, in fact, she didn’t delete my own video.

and when i clicked onto the most recent video, the first thing i heard her moan was my name.

so that’s the game she wants to play? she won’t answer my texts, but she’ll scream my name when she plays with herself?

fine, let’s play.

throughout the week, we added more and more videos to the collection. we teased each other, moaned each other’s names, and spoke the dirtiest words to our phones.

we never addressed the videos in our text messages, as our conversations never got past a “hi, how are you” and a dry response.

it was an odd situation, but she seemed hellbent on avoiding any conversation.

finally, after a week of playing the game, i decided to go over to her house and talk to her like an adult.

i didn’t bother texting her, knowing i wouldn’t get a response.

READER’S POV

“fuck, chris” i moaned out as my head flew back onto my bed.

my body was bare and covered in a layer of sweat as i held my vibrator against my clit with one hand, the other fingering my wet hole.

my phone was propped up against a chair, capturing my pleasure perfectly.

i was so close to my orgasm, i didn’t hear my front door open.

“chris! i’m gonna-!” i cut myself off as my door flew open.

in a panic, i moved my hands and turned my head towards the door.

my eyes widened in horror, as chris stood by my door with hooded eyes.

chris and i stared at each other as we both waited for someone to say something.

“chris-” i started, but paused when he pulled his shirt off.

he quick strides in my direction, before leaning down and capturing my lips in a desperate kiss.

i moaned into the kiss, as our lips moved against each others quickly.

he detached our lips, pressing his forehead to mine. “do you want this or not?” he asked, his eyes still closed. “cause one second you say it’s a mistake, then the next you’re moaning my name. if you’re just gonna play with my feelings, i-” i stopped him by pressing my lips to his in a sweet kiss.

“i want this, chris. i want you. i was scared and confused, and i shouldn’t have played with you like that. i need you to know this isn’t a game to me” i spoke as my gaze shifted between his eyes.

“i’ve wanted you for so fucking long, i just didn’t know how to tell you” i cupped his jaw with my hand, running my thumb along the skin right under his bottom lip.

“thank fuck” he whispered before pushing his lips onto mine again.

my hands found their way to the back of his neck as his soft lips caressed mine.

his hands went to my boobs, squeezing and pinching my nipples, eliciting a small moan from me.

“fuck, you sound even better in person” he groaned.

he continued to play with my tits as our lips slid against each other’s perfectly.

his hips ground down into my body, his clothed erection pressing into my inner thigh.

i bit down onto my lip, suppressing my moans.

“don’t be shy now, baby. you’re so vocal when i’m not in front of you. do i need to play one of the videos?” he asked, making me narrow my eyes at him.

in one swift motion, i hooked my leg around his waist, pushing him down into me and flipping us over.

his eyes widened as i wrapped my hand around his throat, making him let out a choked moan.

“yeah? you like it when i choke you like this?” i asked as i moved my hand down to his sweatpants.

“mmm, fuck yea” he groaned out.

i hooked my finger into his sweatpants, tugging them down.

my fingers gently caressed his thighs as i moved my mouth to the top of his boxers.

i looked up at him through my lashes as i took the waistband between my teeth, pulling it up and letting it snap back against his skin, making his hips jerk slightly.

“i want these off” i spoke.

he quickly pulled them down, letting his dick spring free.

“remember that pink dildo?” i asked as i let my spit travel down to his cock, beginning to spread it around his length.

“y-yeah, i do” he groaned in response.

i lined him up with my entrance and sank down onto him, pulling long strings of curses from both of our lips.

“i always imagine that it’s your cock buried inside of me” i moaned out as i began to move on top of him.

“o-oh my fuck” he whispered as his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

he seemed to almost be shocked at the amount of pleasure coursing through his body, as his arms stayed frozen at his side.

“touch me, chris” i spoke, snapping him out of his trance.

his hands shot out to my sides, sliding down to grab my ass.

i grabbed his shoulders to stablilize myself as i rolled my hips into his.

“god, you feel even better than i ever imagined” i spoke as i pressed my forehead to his, staring into his eyes.

“you look so fucking good on top of me like this. love watching you fuck yourself on my cock” he whispered to me.

“you like the way i squeeze you?” i asked as i clenched around him.

he whimpered at the feeling, before replying, “not gonna last if you do that”

“good, i’m on the pill. i need you to fuck your cum into me, chris. need it so bad” i moaned as his dick plunged in and out of my tight hole.

the dirty words sent chris over the edge.

his fingers dug into my ass, holding me down against him as he shot his cum deep inside of my walls.

i lifted my hips off of him and swung my leg over his, moving from on top of him.

“wait, you didn’t finish” he pointed out.

“it’s fine” i shrugged it off.

chris wasn’t having this as he pulled me back towards his body.

“ride my face” he spoke as he pulled me back on top of him.

“what?” i asked, my eyes widening at his statement.

“i don’t know what you’re used to, but we’re not done until you cum. so, ride my face.” he spoke, throwing slight shade towards charlie, as he laid down.

following his instructions, i positioned myself right above his face. i hovered for a second before chris pulled me down onto him, pulling all of my weight onto his face.

“oh my god, chris” my jaw fell slack as my hands laced into his hair, tugging gently.

he groaned against my heat as his tongue licked up and down my folds.

i began to rock my hips against his mouth. with every upward movement, chris’ nose pressed against my clit.

“chris! i’m cumming!” i spoke as my body tensed up.

my toes curled and my fingers scratched his scalp as i felt an intense wave of pleasure run through my body.

i lifted myself off of his face as my juices shot out of my trembling body, saturating the pillow and chris’s face.

“fuck! sorry, sorry” i spoke quickly as i got off of him.

“don’t ever apologize for something like that, ma. that was hot as fuck” he spoke before licking his lips.

i got up to grab something to clean his face up, when he stopped me.

“wait, take a picture of my face!” he grinned.

“what, why?” i asked.

“we can save it to your my eyes only” he winked.

🌀🌀🌀🌀

masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @gwenlore @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @stramboli4life @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @annelisseakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @abbie13sworld @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @sturniolololover @meg-sturniolo @mattsnymphette

872 notes · View notes

oobbbear · 27 days ago

Text

This rant has 1 target audience and it’s me sorry I like to talk about my unfinished/abandoned stories like they’re successful tv shows and I’m the director getting interviewed about the little details of said show

I love afterland postal so so so much you don’t know how hard it was for me to cut it, but it got to the point that it’s effecting my mental health so I had to stop it. His story in the afterlife is a healing journey, so for that healing journey to be effective I have to make the downfall in his past life hurt, like, HURT hurt, and I went a bit too far that and focused on it a bit too much that I was not working on the healing part anymore. Everyday I regret the making of water angel cause it ended being my fav instead of the protagonists and it being the physical manifestation of death made me focus on the downfall of the story too much, until it literally just crumbled to the ground. If I pick back up Dolus’s story one day I will cut out water angel entirely and maybe most part of his past life, focusing mainly on the afterlife part and how he recovers/deal with his past traumas and rid of bad habits. I want to draw this gremlin again so so bad.

Afterland Postal is a story about learning to love life through death. I like to draw Dolus with CT moon and Callisto sitting together because all three of their stories are about “learning to love life again through the death”. In Dolus’s case is his literal death. For CT moon is him fantasizing death. And for Callisto is through the death of her old life.

After the “death” all three of learned to love themselves again by traveling. They see the world in different perspectives, goes out of their bubbles and get a taste of the wild possibilities of what life has to offer.

For Dolus, I specifically placed him in this post office that delivers mails to the living plane so he can run around experiencing the world but doesn’t have to deal with life? One of his big thing is that he enjoys simply existing, he likes observing the world, feel his surroundings, I had an entire chapter that’s describing how he sees the world through his 5 senses. The feelings are the only thing he enjoyed about life, now he’s a ghost life doesn’t have effect on him anymore, he can really slow down sit down and look at the world he didn’t have the time to look at before, see what he missed and what he may have never be able to see.

For CT moon is basically all described in that If my world goes Bang comic.

Callisto is a different case cause she doesn’t die, strongest fucking character in my stories she survived and very passionate about living. In the original plan after her finding Hester and having Hester’s soul freed, she’s gonna go and travel the world. She has been living in this little house in the middle of nowhere for good half of her life, having her burned down her past and moving on to a new one is good for her. I had a lot a lot of sketches that is just her traveling, I used this as a chance to expand on this weird magical world she lives in, so many cool places and concept. (Also she started dating people again wohoo) I really wish I didn’t burn myself out after that animatic this story would have been so fun to work on.

SPEAKING OF TRAVELING AS A HEALING MECHANISM☝️I m gonna go on a mad Orange Knife spoiler rant since I don’t think there’s a single soul still reading this thing. In Moondust & Natto plot, Moondust really really wanted to see the world with Natto, she loved the world she loved life, in her eyes the outside world is a struggle but one she would fight for because the sunset is beautiful and the grass is soft and for that the hardship is worth it, she loved the world so so much and she wanted to have Natto experience it too. Freedom was a large part of her soul and being add to OK’s collection permanently took that away. She never got to see it again not even the part of her that got added to worm made it out, her soul is killed long ago and body died with the fire that led to Worm and the remaining crew’s freedom, which honestly I think she would be happy knowing that her death freed Natto in the end. She would be mad knowing the person who killed her is freed too but she would understand if she knows Worm’s situation better. After Natto is free I’d like to think he carries a piece of Moondust with him so in his heart he completed their dream, and they can finally experience the world together.

It’s 2am and nothing is making sense sent post to tumblr.com go

#bearz rambling tag #Afterland postal #witch au #celestial twin au #Orange knife #natto #Moondust

152 notes · View notes

minniesmutt · 5 months ago

Note

i would love consume for your skz x chase atlantic ?!?! its such a good song 😵‍💫😵‍💫

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐞

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: HAN X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: BRIEF MENTION OF ANXIETY AND OVERWORKING, COCKWARMING, COMFORT FIC REALLY ☾ ━━━ WC: 0.7K ☾ ━━━ NOTE: ☾ ━━━ send me Chase Atlantic songs and a member to write a blurb about ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

Late nights in the studio always ramped up as it came closer to comeback deadlines. Jisung needed a break before he was too overworked. He finished what he could for the night and packed up. Heading home for the night to sleep. He had a day off tomorrow but he knew he’d just work on the song at home— much to his girlfriend’s dismay.

He got out of the car and made his way to their front door. He was sure she was asleep but he paused when he noticed her sitting in the living room, wide awake.

“You’re still awake?” Jisung asked

Y/n looked at her boyfriend, “I felt like waiting up for you.”

“Why?” Jisung moved closer to her

“I miss you.” Y/n smiled and opened the blanket for him to sit with her.

“I’m sorry…” Jisung mumbled as he leaned down, wrapping his arms around her and laying on her.

“What are you sorry for?” Y/n asked, holding him close

“I haven’t seen you in days because of this deadline. Now you're ruining your sleep schedule for me.” Jisung felt the anxiety in his chest. All his thoughts said he was a terrible boyfriend. Neglecting his perfect girlfriend.

“Ji,” Y/n sighed and rubbed his back, “Look at me?” she asked

“Don’t leave. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not leaving, baby. Just want you to look at me, can you do that?”

Jisung looked up at her per her request, “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize. I know you have deadlines and you’re busy. I knew that when we got together Ji. But I know you always come home at night. I love waking up in the middle of the night with your arms around me, even though I miss spending time with you, I don’t blame you for it.”

“You mean that?”

“Of course.”

Y/n took off his beanie and ran her finger through his hair. “How about we go up to bed?”

Jisung nodded and got off his girlfriend. Y/n turned off the TV and pulled her boyfriend up to their bedroom. Jisung followed her up like a lost puppy. Y/n got out a change of clothes for him and handed them to him to change. The rapper quickly changed as Y/n pulled back their covers and plugged in both their phones before Jisung joined her under their covers. Y/n wrapped her arms around him and held her against her chest. Jisung let out a sigh as he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her chest.

Y/n kissed the top of his head and felt his whole body relax. “I love you,” Jisung mumbled

“I love you too.” Y/n told him

Jisung looked up at her and puckered his lips at her. Y/n giggled and pecked his lips, “Stop overworking.”

“I just want to be able to provide you the live you deserve.”

“Not at the sake of your mental health. I know you’re working hard but it’s okay to take a break. You have two other producers you work with.”

“You’re right,” Jisung sighed

“You’re off tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“We’re staying in bed and watching Studio Ghibli then. No work. You need a break.”

“As long as you don’t leave my arms, I’ll be fine.”

“Go to sleep.” Y/n pecked his forehead

“Can you sit on it while we sleep?”

“The last time i cockwarmed you you made my legs jelly.”

“Please? I wanna be close to you right now after I’ve been M.I.A for a while. Plus you’re ass looked really good when we were walking up.”

“How can you go from almost having an anxiety attack about being a bad boyfriend in your eyes to horny as hell?” Y/n asked as she unwrapped herself from him to pull off her sleep shorts and underwear

“Stay would say it’s my duality.” Jisung smiled as he pulled down his pants and boxers.

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully at him before peeling the covers just a bit so they could see what they were doing. Jisung pumped himself a few times till he was hard enough to slip in. Carefully sliding into his loving girlfriend. Moving slowly so she could adjust to him till he was as deep as he could go.

“I love you so much.” Jisung wrapped his arms around her as she pulled the blankets back over them, “Someday, I’m gonna marry you.”

“I’ll happily wait for that day.”

“Even if I proposed tomorrow?”

“The answer will always be yes.”

The couple kissed one last time before settling into sleep. Being as close as they possibly could and his cock nestled in between her walls. Jisung could die a happy man.

☾ ━━━━━━ M.LIST TIP JAR

☾ ━━━ please support writers by reblogging and/or leaving feedback

☾ ━━━ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: @lakoya @lilyuwon @jaiuneamesolitaiire @caitlyn98s @gimmeurtummy

@innieandsungielover @rylea08 @20crowsinahoodie @kpopsstuffs @moonlight-the-writer

@seungmonggg @fearnotfimmie @the-sweetest-rose @stars-garden @bandolls

@asahisimpnation @vegetablesarefuntables @bl00dyv3inss @avyskai @kangyeonie

@ninisoul-space @pynchkilledme @dessianna1 @aaliyaoaoah @palindrome969

@realrintaro @tinyelfperson @minhwa @redstayrosie @caravm

@armystay89 @skzhoes @kiko-o-luck @cookiesandcreammy @alice-went-away

@boldy-49 @rockstarkkami @wh0re4mingi @rhonnie23 @hrskt

@emollvvr-blog @tinys0ftie @soulphoenix1618 @highkeyinlovewithhanjisung @nahitzstacyy

@palindrome969 @thatgirlkay @borahae-reads @linocvp1d @chartrucewhore

#☾━━━━ [𝐊𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒]#stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids x reader smut #skz x reader #skz smut #skz x reader smut #han jisung x reader smut #han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #han x reader #han x reader smut #han smut

297 notes · View notes

luveline · 1 year ago

Note

hi lovely :) i have a request for you!!

i’m thinking spencer reid x reader (and platonic!bau team if you don’t mind!!) where reader is having a bit of a rough time with mental health, but is 1 year clean and they have a lil celebration? thank you!!

-🍓 (this is my application for being an emoji anon lmao)

hi, thank you! ♡ fem 1k

cw implied drug use

You're expecting your boyfriend's voice when a hand touches your shoulder, but it's actually Hotch that speaks. "Good morning. Are you feeling alright?"

You meet his furrowed brow with a softer expression. "Morning, Hotch. I'm good, I'm," —you stretch your arms out in front of you in a lie— "just really tired."

"Take it easy today, okay?" You nod quickly. "Okay. And Y/N? Well done."

You enjoy the shoulder squeeze he gives you and hide your abject puzzlement as he heads up the steps to his office, briefcase in hand. It's always nice to be doted on, but what's today?

"Hello," a new voice says, a hand again on your shoulder, ducking down to kiss you behind the ear. Here's your expected boyfriend, Spencer's voice low and spectacularly sweet, "Good morning. You're here early, I haven't even made you coffee."

"That's okay, I can make it."

His arms cross over your chest. He touches you so confidently, his lack of hesitance a great encouragement; it's hard to find room to feel insecure about things when Spencer seems to see no faults in you. Hard, but not impossible.

As though he can sense your rough morning (rough week, rough month), he holds you that second longer than usual, lips like angora silk where they touch to your cheek. "I'll make it, thanks. It's the least you deserve today."

"Right," you say. He strokes your shoulder with his thumb in farewell, leaving you wondering. Today isn't your birthday, you'd probably know if it were.

"Hey, good morning!" Emily says as she arrives, thrusting her bag and her travel mug onto her desk before she descends on you.

It's her hug that breaks the camel's back, so to speak. You give her hands an absent minded hold but pull back in her embrace. "Emily," you say, frowning at her, "what's so special about today?"

She blinks like she's worried to tell you, but she gets it together and hugs you again. "You're one year clean today. Everybody's so proud of you," she says quietly.

You almost bite the tip of your tongue off. "How do you know that?" you ask. The thing about staying clean is that it haunts you until it doesn't. Some people can't ever beat it, and some people can. It's been a huge struggle for you, but eventually relapsing stopped feeling like an option, especially while you've been with Spencer. You can't do anything to jeopardise your safety while you're with him, you just can't. (That doesn't mean you haven't desperately wanted to.)

"Well, I knew it would've been around now, but Spencer sent us a memo. Nothing too detailed, you know, but we all…" She smiles at you wryly. "We care about you so much, and we didn't get it right with Spencer."

No, they didn't. Spencer didn't get half the support he deserved, so he's making sure you do.

There's something of a mental block in you that doesn't allow you to cry, but this shakes you roughly. Emily gives you a sorry smile and a last quick hug, apologising that she has to go and speak to Hotch before the work day officially begins. You lean back in your chair and click dazedly on an email from Penelope detailing how deeply loved you are and wondering if you'd like to go shopping. I know today might be really hard, so if you need me you know where I am. Love Pen.

"You okay?" Spencer asks, placing your coffee in front of you on the desk.

"Come and sit with me for a bit."

You don't sound like you're asking, but you are. Spencer hears the need in your demand and immediately grabs his chair to sit next to you. You're surprised he didn't squat.

You turn your face, lay your cheek on the short back of the chair uncomfortably, and take him in. He looks great these days, the memory of a young man firmly buried beneath a well-fitting suit, a cropping of facial hair, and the subtle, lean lines of muscle especially evident as he sits back to copy you, curls falling into his eyes. "You told everyone about my anniversary."

"Your accomplishment," he corrects quietly. "I did."

"I do want them to know, just… I feel a bit raw." You hardly remembered yourself, though you knew it was soon.

Spencer takes your hand, pulling the joined pair between his knees. "It's something to be extremely proud of. And there's nothing wrong with celebrating it."

"It's embarrassing–"

"It isn't." He sits up as someone comes closer and you follow suit. This is a complicated conversation and your simple intimacies are necessary but inappropriate in the workplace. "I'm sure there are a ton of people who find sobriety embarrassing, but those are all people who don't know what it feels like to have to do it. We," —his voice softens— "do. I know exactly how it feels, and I know exactly how you've been feeling lately, so I'm proud of you and everyone else should be too."

"How I've been feeling lately?" you ask.

"Come on." Spencer stands and takes your face into his hands. One is warmer than the other, and he uses it to stroke the baby hair's at your ear very gently. "You do a really good job at hiding how you feel, but you can't hide from me."

"I'm not trying to."

"Good," he says, leaning down to kiss you. A soft, brisk connection. "I love you."

"Not as much as I do, loverboy!" Morgan says as he arrives, giving Spencer a little nudge as he needles his arms behind your back and kisses your cheek.

"You're squeezing me."

"Have I told you lately how much I love you?" Morgan asks, squeezing your harder.

"Morgan, she knows you know."

"Know what?"

"You didn't see the memo?" Spencer asks.

"What memo?" Morgan grins at you with pearly white teeth and scrubs at your shoulders until you're squirming at the pressure. It's nice. "Looking good, gorgeous."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

862 notes · View notes