#if this inspires you to go please see a therapist

[spirals-within-spirals]

Reason Why Lyrren is Fucking Awful #2: the League

Getting this one out of the way now, because I know very well I'll get people who are like "Yeah, but it's worth it! H4rdc0r3!" because travelling one of the most fucking remote and dangerous regions in the world is fine if it lets you take part in, as that one fucking mewtuber called it "The Secret Hardcore League They Don't Want You to Know About!"

Can you tell I'm peeved about this part?

Like everything, the reality is more complicated. Lyrren's league is hard, yeah, but especially for foreigners it's not a kind of difficulty that's any kind of fun.

First of all, the league is deeply important to Lyrren in many ways. For one it's part of their Journey, which is significantly more significant there than it is elsewhere. The paper I read estimated that something like 80% of people there go on one at 15. I shouldn't need to mention that that's a truly ridiculous number, the statistics I've dug up for Sinnoh are closer to half that. Back home it's pretty important too yeah, but in Lyrren it's considered a major milestone in their life, the transition from childhood to adulthood, and evolved directly from a literal pilgrimage.

And there was I, blundering in because I thought it sounded fun.

The sheer fucking vibes of "YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE" in every step of my journey there did a number on me, even without all the straight-up xenophobia. I'm honestly surprised they even let foreigners participate, might just be because they don't have a way to legally differentiate us from locals.

The second way is very literal. Lyrren is one of the few nations that still has League Rule absolutism, AKA the league is the government. It also serves as an absolutely spectacular argument against that form of government because holy fuck. It's about as competent in governing as you'd expect for a bunch of people selected for their battling skills. Way it got that way is a long story but let's just say there was a massive power vacuum, and the league was the only entity capable of even vaguely filling it.

So, an exercise for the reader. You are the head of the Elite Four. Your region has been torn apart by war, the champion is dead and no one has replaced them yet, the government is essentially gone and you've somehow found yourself the closest thing your region has to a leader. What is the first thing you do?

Cement your own power by any means that won't get the population to revolt, of course. If someone manages to climb their way through the league and beat you, they'll become your boss, and we can't have that. There has not been a champion of Lyrren in almost fifty years.

As a result of that philosophy, I've seen gym regulation in Lyrren summed up as "don't let too many trainers through." Not joking, they have one guy, and his only job is to make sure the gyms aren't too easy. And like, yes, the gyms are very difficult because of that, but not in the way other regions are. Leagues elsewhere are meant to be a challenge, but in the end it's intended that a competent trainer be able to progress through it. Lyrren's league exists to stop people from reaching its elite. It's designed to be unfair. Plus there's an age-old law against anyone with under 8 badges even setting foot on Ticsi Island, the home of the league. Which is also the seat of their fucking government. Do you smell the corruption yet?

As for the gym battles themselves, while their standards for each badge are significantly higher than most places (gym leader I challenged for the first badge had a fucking Metang), difficulty spikes and dips because the leaders decide themselves what mons they want to use for which level, doesn't matter to the league as long as not too many people get through, and apart from using weaker mons they do not fucking go easy on you. 6v6 battles from badge 2, I almost lost that one because the gym leader used several techniques I'm pretty sure would be illegal anywhere else, including painting the walls with horrific war imagery and revealing it mid-battle.

Also, because gyms are, like most things in Lyrren, handled almost entirely locally the gyms themselves can be... strange. The gym puzzle of Chaca City involves fighting a gym trainer. Like, not with pokémon. Steel-type specialists too, I didn't even dare to try. Watched it a bit, but there's only so much of adults beating up teens you can take. On top of that, apparently gym leaders often look at how you complete the puzzle to determine who they rig the match against if they need to get some wins to pump up their stats, and also whoop for me because being a foreigner pretty much automatically puts you on that list.

So let me walk you though a few steps of my hell. I arrived in Xochi City, the only port in Lyrren that allows foreign ships, and went straight to its gym, grass type. Take most of the day to finish the puzzle, a maze where you need to answer questions I assume are obvious to the Lyrrenese but I had no clue about, before getting to the leader. Fun fact: Lyrrenese badges are not internationally recognized, but apparently Lyrrenese gyms can decide to recognize international ones if they want to? Not sure if that's how it works or if he was just fucking with me. So there I was, seven-badger from Sinnoh cluelessly walking into an eighth-badge match. Another fun fact: in an eighth-badge match, Lyrrenese gym leaders are required to use their personal teams. Yet another fun fact: the gym leader of Xochi City used to be an Elite Four member. And as a side note, the Elite Four of Lyrren are sometimes called the Four Champions, and that's not an empty title.

So yeah. I got fucking annihilated. Didn't even beat his Ludicolo.

Like, I've gotten top 8 in the Lily of the Valley since then, and I still know I 100% would lose like a chump even now. From what I've read he's one of the three gym leaders people there make sure not to leave for last because their personal teams are nearly impossible to beat.

Sounds fair, right?

So let's say you make it past that. You're strong enough to get past eight gyms that are stacked against you and all the other fucking hurdles in your way (will get into more in later posts, but it's a lot), and you make it to the Spring's End Tournament. You just need to win that, and you get to challenge the Elite Four, and beat them and you become the champion of Lyrren. Hard, but possible right?

Well too bad, your journey ends there.

I could go into the caliber of trainer who participates in Spring's End (I recommend looking up recordings sometime, picture quality's shit but the battling is not), but I don't need to. Of the four foreign participants in Spring's End I've been able to find concrete evidence of, three were disqualified on the first day of the tournament for "poor sportsmanship" (read: We Don't Want You Here) and the last, some poor idiot from Unova, just straight up disappeared. I don't think they even bothered looking for the body. The league may not want anyone to have a fair shot at the championship, but, and I can't emphasize this part enough, no one wants a foreigner to become champion.

And for the record, the Elite Four matches are also incredibly stacked against the challenger. Once one is beaten the next steps in immediately to continue the fight, so not only do you have to beat four of the strongest trainers in the world, you need to beat them in a row without resting. Apparently a good two thirds of challengers lose to the first, and there's like three occurrences of anyone beating the second. The third crushed all of them within minutes of stepping onto the field. Frankly I seriously doubt any trainer alive could take on that challenge unless they got a high legend or something to join them.

So yeah. I'd call it less of a hardcore challenge, more butting in on a century-old tradition centered around a fucking mess of a system that's had a hatchet taken to it in order to fuck it up even further. Still sound worth it?

[eclarinet]

same soup... different day

[almostempty]

self esteem part 2 - want you bad (joel x f!reader)

wc: 4.8k | masterlist | rating: 18+ | read on ao3 |

part 3 ⎯ part 4

Summary: Joel ignores you at the lake until he can't. Loosely inspired by the song Want You Bad by The Offspring (to stay on theme, ya know?).

tags/arnings: fuckboy!Joel, dub con, smut, pwp, unprotected piv sex, fingering, creampie, dirty talk, public sex, reader is still sippin' on some dumb bitch juice for Joel (me), smash and dash, get railed against a truck, emotionally manipulative but sexually proficient Joel, toxic breadcrumbing Joel fucks, dirt, no use of y/n, AU no outbreak,

a/n: please leave feedback! open to constructive criticism or delusional inspiration

thanks: major thanks to everyone who read part 1, as well as my muse @auteurdelabre , and my co-chair of the horny4joel club @lovely-vamp-princess for encouraging me

Your fingers hover over the brightly lit screen of your phone. Your friend, Katie, invited you to a barbecue at Toad Lake and assured you it would be a relaxed group. Just food, drinks, sun, and swimming. But how can it be relaxing if Joel is going to be there? If he was even invited. If he even shows up. He drives you insane. It’s her fault anyway. 

Katie’s boyfriend was friends with Tommy. Tommy invited Joel to some karaoke night at a bar a few months back. That was the catalyst for your personal hell. You don’t even know why he showed up; he refused to sing anything. But he did offer to give you a ride home so Katie could leave with her man. 

You were surprised by the gesture. The way he’d barely said anything to you all night made you think he wasn’t interested in remembering your name. But the way his shoulders filled out the green flannel he wore and then when he rolled up the sleeves? He was like The Brawny Man come to life. And that paper towel mascot lookalike was so your type. In fact, the way he nearly flat-out ignored you was also a turn-on but not one you thought your therapist would approve of. So when he offered a ride, you accepted. 

You tested the waters on the ride home, attempting to make some small talk. He was different one on one. Charmed you with his sharp wit and some flirty compliments. You couldn’t tear your eyes off him, his hands, his arms, his profile, and his dark features in the glow of the streetlights. You lingered when he pulled up to the curb in front of your place. 

“I’m glad you drove me home,” you said, “it was nice to get to know you a little bit.” 

“Was nice,” he agreed dragging his thumb under his bottom lip, pulling your attention to his mouth,  “I’d like to get to know you a little more.” 

You felt your cheeks warm at that and smiled back. “Would you like to come inside?” you floated the offer, and the look on his face sealed the deal. 

But today, you haven’t heard from Joel in over a week. He doesn’t usually last much longer than two weeks before you find him at your door. He disappears just long enough that you start to build up the courage to tell him off for being a flake. The only reliable thing about Joel, though, is that when he does show up, he always leaves you feeling completely spent. What’s the harm in enjoying what he can do with his body? You don’t think you spend an unhealthy amount of time daydreaming about him. 

You don’t want to anticipate seeing him at the lake and get disappointed if he’s a no-show. Instead, you’d rather your chest constrict with anxiety until Saturday while you debate sending him a text to ask him yourself. You decide against it. You don’t want to double-text since he never answered your last message anyway. 

Saturday arrives quickly, and it’s the perfect day to be at the lake. Clear skies and hot sun. Your car is an oven as you slide your beach bag and cooler backpack into the backseat. You sit in the driver’s seat and roll down all the windows. You flip down the visor to look in the little mirror at your reflection.  

It’s casual, you remind yourself. Just friends, food, and floating in the lake. You put on some waterproof mascara anyway, definitely not because Joel might be there. You look casual. You found your favorite black bikini last night and tried it on to make sure it still fits the way you like. Basic triangle top and bottoms with strings that tie on your hips. It still fits snugly but without cutting into your back or shoulders. It hugs everything in the right places and displays all the right skin. For your friends. At the casual barbecue. 

You stare at yourself, practically pointing a finger at your reflection to drill the idea into your head. If he’s there, it doesn’t mean anything. If he wants to be nonchalant, you’ll be nonchalant even harder. And you’ll look good as you do. Give him a taste of the same rejection you keep experiencing. 

Toad Lake is almost a secret. It’s small, outside of town, and private except for one small area with access to swimming and a small dock. When you and Katie lived together, you used to hit it up after work. Jumping off the dock unless there were people fishing. Or just floating near the shore with pool noodles while debriefing about the day. 

You pull off the main road onto the winding gravel road that takes you to the public access. It’s dense with trees and full of potholes. You bounce along in your car, listening to the gravel crunch under the tires. 

Parking is tight. The first lot only fits five or six cars on the gravel spots, and past that, maybe another seven or eight would fit in the dirt spots. You recognize most of the cars already parked as you pull into one of the furthest spots. You don’t see Joel’s truck, and your stomach drops with a wave of disappointment as you pull in between someone else’s truck and a jeep. You don’t want to think about him or feel let down. 

There’s a short but steep and winding path that leads to the water. You round the corner, finally able to see through the trees to the beach, and recognize him immediately. The unmistakable frame of Joel Miller. The shape of his body and that signature stance. You’d recognize him by the back of his head in a crowd with one eye closed. Butterflies stir in your stomach, and at the same time, your throat feels dry. 

He’s such a dick, you think as you trudge down the path in your sandals. Maybe you should ask him if his phone still works. No. That would blow up in your face. You’d just be broadcasting that it hurts when he rejects you. You do not want to face that fear. Maybe coming here was a total mistake. Regret and fear claw viciously at your throat with each step you take. 

Joel seems to dance around you, just avoiding being on your path as you greet everyone and catch up. Tommy is friendly and chats with you for a moment before getting Joel’s attention, forcing you to interact. 

“You remember Joel, right?” he asks. 

You laugh brightly. “Of course, the one and only,” you say with a smile. 

Joel nods at you. Doesn’t even say a fucking word. His dark brown eyes just bore into you for the longest second before giving you a curt smile. Tommy laughs at something while Joel turns away to find something to look busy with. Or someone. You gawk briefly as you watch him turn to chat with some woman you don’t know. 

Blowing you off on your attempts at dates is one thing, but acting like he doesn’t even know you? What the fuck is with this guy? Who’s the woman he seems so friendly with? 

You remember how to close your mouth and decide to set up your spot along the beach. You strip off your T-shirt and adjust the straps on your bikini. Rifling through your bag for some sunscreen, you find the lotion first. Smiling to yourself, you imagine asking Joel to help get your back. Would he refuse? Would his lady friend be jealous? You actually don’t want to know. You dig around until you find the spray sunscreen. You don’t need a man applying any cream to your back. 

You swear you feel his eyes burning into you, but when you look around, he’s turned and talking to her. Whatever. You figure it’s safest for your sanity to head straight for the water. You grab your pool float and start to blow it up. You feel that burning sensation again, but you turn, and he’s busy swigging down a drink. You grab one for yourself, and with a drink in one hand and the pool float under the other arm, you march right into the water. It’s perfect. Just warm enough, it doesn’t shock your system. Cool enough to ease the oppressing heat of the sun. 

“The water is perfect! Why am I the only one in here?” you call to Katie. 

“Alright, I’m coming!” she calls back. 

You laze in the water for most of the afternoon. Chatting with friends, cheering on a wobbly friend learning to stand on a paddleboard, and just resting peacefully. 

Joel sits in a beach chair, observing. You stare back under your sunglasses, hoping it’s not noticeable. Your thoughts spiral again. What is his issue? You aren’t good enough? He doesn’t wanna get caught talking to you? You consider cornering Tommy to dig up some dirt, but it’s too late. Joel is pulling his shirt over his head. You’re locked on. You fight to keep from reacting. His sun-kissed frame strolls towards the lakeshore. You watch as he gets waist-deep before he pushes off and glides through the water. When his head re-emerges, and he shakes the water from his hair, you feel your mouth drop open. You quickly fill it with the beverage in your hand. 

You keep staring. Watching the beads of water roll down his shoulders. You’d like to sink your teeth into the skin on his neck. You’d like to wrap your legs around his hips under the water—“oh, shit!” you yelp. 

A kid swimming behind you got a little too excited, kicking water and splashing it all over your face. You grimace. You didn’t mean to swear at the kid. It was just the shock of it. No big deal. Since your hair is wet now anyway, you might as well get all the way in the water. 

You drop off your floaty and empty drink on your blanket. Tossing your sunglasses off, too. You walk back into the water and dive under yourself. It’s refreshing. You’re close to Joel when you pop up again. He looks at you this time. Acknowledges you’re a real, live human in front of him. 

“All wet now, huh?” he smirks. 

“Oh, fuck off, Joel,” you scoff at him. You swim away before he can say anything else. 

You lay out, letting the sun dry your wet skin. Until you’re ready to leave. The idea of a shower and aircon sounds pretty good to you. You gather your things, say your goodbyes, and hike up the path to your car. 

With your bags in the backseat, you grab your towel. Your bikini and hair are still dripping wet. You squeeze your hair with the towel when you hear someone approaching. You look over your shoulder, and of course, it’s him. You turn away, continuing to towel at your hair. You can feel his body hovering behind yours. 

“Hey, baby,” he says, low and syrupy.

“Are you joking?” you spew incredulously, not bothering to look at him. “Where’s your girlfriend?” 

“My what?” 

“I didn’t catch her name.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, baby. It’s not like that.” His large hands wrap around either side of your hips. “Y’look nice in this,” he coos, ignoring your spite and toying with the strings tied at your hips. You turn and shove at his chest. He leans against the truck behind him. 

“Why are you up here, Joel? You want to ignore me around our friends, then follow me to my car like a dog? You’ve got fuckin’ problems, man. Why are you looking at me like that?” 

He’s smiling at you like it’s endearing that you’re telling him off. 

“Oh my god, let me guess. You think I look sexy when I’m mad?” 

“No,” he defends and steps closer. He runs his fingers under the strap on your shoulder. His touch burns white hot against your skin, branding you. You shiver. “You always look sexy,” he rasps. It’s not charming. He’s still an ass. But it feels so good when he says it. He’s so close you can smell the sunscreen and sweat on his skin. Everything about his presence chips away at your defenses. 

“Could barely stand watching you in the water,” he adds. When did his mouth get so close to you? His hot breath runs over the shell of your ear. “Want you bad.” 

“Liar,” you argue with less venom. 

“Am not,” he hums. A hand slides up your neck, thumb under your chin, tilting your face up to look at him. His eyes are heavy with lust. He’s still smiling. You wonder if that’s how he’d look if you woke up next to him. A dreamy smile with his tousled hair and scruffy cheeks. 

He takes your hand, so delicate compared to his. Slowly, he brings it towards his body and wraps it around the stiff bulge in his swim trunks. “Feel like I’m lying?” He watches the tiny muscles in your face twitch as you suppress your reaction. Then your brows pull together, and you glare. 

“You think you can just follow me up here, get your hands on me, and then what? You’ll have me on my knees in the dirt for you? You think I wanna catch some dirty lake water disease from your cock in my mouth?” 

He squeezes your hand harder like his dick will argue for him. Maybe you’d hear it out. 

“You gonna tell me you don’t want this?” he asks, narrowing his eyes, “bet you’re wet from more than just the lake, pretty baby.” He’s not wrong, but you’re not going to admit it. Wait, did he say pretty? A laugh, shriek, and loud splash from the lake below breaks you out of his trance. Your tunnel vision expands. You pull your hand from his grip. 

“Why are you up here, Joel?”

“Couldn’t just watch you leave.” 

You scoff at him and whip back around. You’re quick, but he’s bigger and stronger. His hands pull at your hips, slamming your body back into his. The damp skin of his chest sticks to your back. 

“We’re not fucking in the parking lot,” you snap. You can feel how hard he is. Pressed against the curve of your ass. His swim trunks and your wet Lycra bikini are the only barriers between you. 

“Maybe s’what you get for being a filthy fuckin’ tease,” his gravelly voice rumbles in your ear. 

“How am I a tease?” you squirm against him, but the friction only makes both of you more pathetic as you gasp and he groans.

“Wearing this.” He pulls at the string of your bikini on one shoulder and lets it snap back. “Laying on that towel, ass up, like you were waiting for me to fill it,” he squeezes a cheek for emphasis, “floating in the water with these perfect tits barely hidden.” He pulls at the triangles of fabric covering them, sliding them apart until your breasts pop out. Exposing you under the shade of the trees. 

“You’re delusional,” you accuse. But all the venom is gone. The words come out breathy. His body is wrapped around you, constricting. His hand travels down your stomach, slipping under the bikini and between your legs. His fingers find exactly what they were searching for. Your slick folds part easily, welcoming his fingers deeper. 

“Doesn’t feel like a delusion to me, baby.” Wretched man. Always has to prove a point. You’re running out of the mental fortitude to argue. You also feel ridiculous, standing between someone’s truck and your car, tits out, his hand between your legs. 

“Isn’t someone gonna wonder where you are?” you try to find a reason you should stop. 

“No, said I had to make a call.” 

“A call? So your phone does work,” you chide, using your last brain cell. He plunges two fingers into your aching pussy, effectively shutting you up. A moan is the only noise you can form. 

“Thought I already taught you to quit arguing with me.” His irritation is muffled by his lips pressed into the skin of your neck. 

“Fuck you, Joel.”

“You wanna try askin’ nicely?” he goads in your ear. His fingers curl as he drags them in and out of you. You let yourself focus on the sensation. Your head falls, chin to your chest, and you watch the muscles and tendons in his arm flexing and rippling while he works you into a needy mess. It’s hot. His arm is firm and tan from days spent working in the hot sun. Against the soft, cushiony flesh of your curves, it’s almost menacing, but it provides you with support. Like he could balance you forever against his one arm. He might have to if your knees give out. 

The noises coming from you both are obscene. You feel his chest rising and falling against your shoulder blades, slowing down time. Joel moves shamelessly, his hips roll and grind into the swell of your ass. He’s curled around you like a wild beast claiming his prize in the forest. It gives you some kind of sick ego trip; he hurt you, but now he’s here attached to you with desperate want. You slide a hand behind your head, feeling for his soft, damp hair on the back of his head, confirming this whole perverse scenario is real. You tug at his hair, eliciting a rough groan from his lips. He seems to have forgotten his own question, entranced by you. 

Joel watches the sweat beading on your chest and runs his hot tongue up your neck into the hinge of your jaw. He savors your sweat-salted taste with a deep hum that vibrates from his chest into your spine. It lights sparks along your nerves. 

You grind back against him as his palm presses firmly into your clit, and his fingers keep stroking at just the right spot. The pressure building feels overwhelming. He’s all consuming the way he surrounds you. The sound of his breath, his scent, the way your skin sticks against one another, it floods your senses. Your breath quickens, and your muscles coil tight with tension, buzzing with need. 

“Give it to me,” his words scrape across gravel. The tension in your core snaps, abdomen spasming, and your pussy clenching at his fingers for more. The hand you have on the back of his neck clings tightly for support. He loosens his grip around you and slows his movements as you start to take deeper and deeper breaths of air. Fresh air. Because you’re in the parking lot at the lake. Your senses sharpen, and your vision clears. You fix your bikini top in a rush, adjusting the fabric and straps fighting through your tangled mess of limbs crossed with Joel’s. 

You can hear other footsteps on the path. Turning to face Joel, you flash a smile on your flushed face at him. 

“Good timing,” you quip as you look beyond Joel and past the bed of the truck to see who’s coming up the path. You wave at a couple of friends as they carry their bags to their vehicle. Joel doesn’t turn to look. Doesn’t seem to move a muscle. You look back at his face. 

One brow raised; he looks like he knows something you don’t. A frown pulls at your face. He executes his maneuver before you can devise a retort for his expression. He yanks hard on the ends of the bows that tie your bikini bottoms together. Your jaw drops as the fabric falls. Your hand flies out to slap his chest at the audacity, but he grips your wrist in his hand. 

“Not nice to hit people, baby,” he condescends as if you were the one in the wrong. You’re fuming. Blood boiling. 

“What–” you’re cut off by his other hand grabbing your jaw with a vice grip. 

“Quiet,” he snaps. You hear the sounds of the car backing out and pulling away. Tires kicking up a cloud of dust. You can’t see past Joel’s wide frame as he holds your head in place. You grab at his forearm, but it’s useless. You’re defenseless in his grip. Vulnerable between the vehicles and the trees. Why does that make your cunt ache and throb? You squirm. “You gonna behave?” he asks, but you know it’s not a question. 

“Uhuh,” you respond through your clenched teeth, your lips unnaturally squished and parted between his fingers and thumb. You give up on prying at his arm and run your hand down his bare chest towards his swim trunks instead. Your touch brings a smirk to his face. 

“Yeah, you are,” he agrees. Reading your sordid motives like a love letter, he carries on. He drops your jaw and readjusts your positioning. Joel moves you with ease. He lifts you and backs you into the window to the backseat of the truck, his hands under your thighs. If you had any sense left, you might consider it vulgar to be fucked wide open in a parking lot, but the animalistic expression on Joel’s face wipes your mind blank. You lock your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck as if he were the one caught in your trap. He looks at you like he’s trying to etch all the details of you in this position into his mind. It stirs that depraved sense of pride in your chest. 

“Take it out,” he orders. You obey. Snaking a hand between your bodies to free his cock from his swim trunks. Both of you watch, chins tucked to your chests as your hand wraps around his stiff shaft. The sight makes your mouth water. He seems similarly affected. You think you’ll have hand-shaped bruises on the back of your legs the way his grip tightens and his fingertips dig into your skin. He leans closer, seeking your slick, wet entrance. You guide his leaking tip with your own pleasure in mind instead. He watches as you use him like a toy. You swirl the head of his cock around your swollen clit. The pressure and heat blur your vision. You slip him through your folds until he’s coated in your glossy arousal. You keep playing, creating lewd noises between your legs. He’s talking to you, you realize, and tune back in. 

“Keep teasin’ like that. Gonna fuck you til you can’t walk. Give it to this needy little pussy the way no one else can, right, baby? Stretch you out and fill you up. Send you home dripping.” He rambles on with his threats. They make you dumb. 

“Fuck, please, please, please,” you respond with tight exhales. 

His head shoots up. 

“You hear that?” he asks, and you freeze. Straining to listen. You can hear the birds in the trees. The muffled voices down at the lakeshore. You listen for voices or footsteps getting closer, but they don’t exist. 

“Hear what?” you pant. 

“The sound of you begging for my cock.”

Your face heats. You feel another surge of arousal flood your already-soaked center. 

“Fuck off, Joel.” 

“It’s a pretty sound, baby. Want you to be bad.” His words light something fierce inside of you. You need him inside you, now. He doesn’t help as you wiggle in his grip, trying to slip him inside of you. He exhales a puff of air in amusement at your struggle.

“Do it again. Beg.”  

���Please, Joel.” 

“Please, what?” 

“Please, fuck me. Need you to fuck me hard.” A twisted wave of humiliation and need for approval courses through you. Begging for him, trying to tug him closer. You’re a mess for him. 

“There she is,” he smiles. It’s devious, but it makes your heart flutter and your pussy throb even harder. 

You line him up with your entrance, and he fills you in one motion. 

“Fuck,” you mouth as your head slides back against the truck. He fulfills his threats and splits you around his cock over and over. His hips snap into you with a force that sends shockwaves rippling across your body. Joel fucks you like a man possessed. Driving into you brutally, rocking the truck behind you. You try to stifle the cries pouring out of your throat, focusing on breathing, squeezing your eyes shut, and digging your nails into his shoulders. Pinning you with his body frees his hand, and he wastes no time using it to grope at every inch of you he can. 

He slows and rocks into you more tenderly, confusing you. He peers around the cab and waves at someone. Oh, shit. They can’t see you through the cab windows, right? Fuck. 

“Hey, put me down,” you hiss. 

“It’s just Tommy,” he replies. How is that better? 

Then you hear him calling to Joel.

“Hey, you see my sunglasses on the dash?”

Joel looks through into the driver’s window as if you didn’t even exist. 

“Yeah, you want ‘em?” Joel calls back to Tommy. 

“Yeah, you comin' back down?” 

“Yep, be there in a minute if you want me to bring them.” He calls back to Tommy. Still rolling against you, just grinding at a mind-numbingly slow speed. 

“You’re sick,” you whisper at Joel while you grind back into him, and Tommy shouts a thank you in the distance. Joel thrusts up into you more harshly. Your breath catches as his eyes lock onto yours with his full attention. 

“Felt to me like you enjoyed the risk.” His voice sounds like a taunt, but he’s not wrong. Joel talking to Tommy like you weren’t wrapped around his cock sent a rush through your veins. You decide not to admit that out loud. 

“This is Tommy’s truck?” you ask between gasps. 

“Yep.” 

You had some snarky comment to make, but you give up as he resumes his pace, and your thoughts fade away. Joel’s filthy stream of consciousness starts up again between low grunts and groans. His voice and the noises he makes bounce around in your skull. He makes you feel weightless. 

Each time his hips meet the cradle of your pelvis, you nearly burst, complimenting his movements with an enthusiastic rhythm. You arch your spine, angling just a little deeper, chanting out breathy prayers of fuck, fuck, fuck, and yes, yes, yes, when he slips a hand down to draw circles around your clit. 

“That’s it. Let me feel it,” he demands as you writhe. 

You give in, and it drives him crazy. The way your nails dig into his shoulders, your brows pinch, your mouth hangs open, and your body involuntarily shudders against him. He feels the way you start to relax, but your body jerks and clings tighter to him a few more times. He can’t slow down. It fuels his unbridled urge to come inside you as deep as he can. 

“That’s my baby,” he husks. My baby? You feel butterflies as you try to catch your breath while he ramps up his force. 

“Gonna fill you up. Fuck you full.” 

“Yes,” you reply, not sure he’s even listening with the intensity of his look as he barrels towards his release. When he stills, and you feel it, you can’t stifle the sounds in your throat. You feel his cock pulsing inside you, and his hips lurch into you as if he could fuck his come any deeper. He smothers you as he comes down. With his chest crushing you into the truck, you can feel when his breathing starts to slow. You rake your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp and breathing him in. Your pussy might be sore for a day, but your ego is full, and you feel sated. 

Joel pulls out of you with a barely audible pained noise and asks if you can stand before releasing you fully from his grip. 

“I still have two legs,” you joke. But you look like you might topple over if he lets go. He hugs you into him for a tender kiss; it’s quick, but you drown in it. He props you up and presses another kiss to your sweaty temple. 

Then it’s happening again. He pulls his shorts back up, opens the truck, and grabs Tommy’s sunglasses. You grab your towel to wrap around your naked lower half. The truck door slams, and you turn. He’s already walking away. 

“Drive safe,” he calls over his shoulder while you pick up your bikini bottoms from the dirt. 

An empty feeling starts to shroud your satisfied glow as the sound of his footsteps fades away. He did call you “my baby,” though. He doesn’t say that to just anyone, right? 

-> NEXT

[cherry-leclerc]

thinking of her ☆ cl16

genre: angst, marriage trope

word count: 1.8k

You and Charles take a visit to marriage counseling.

inspired by this !

req!... had some free time to write so thought i would work on a request i just got! short one, but i hope you enjoy :)

“Tell me why you’re both here.”

The room is silent and slightly cold. A large canvas hangs right in front of you as you take time to pretend you care about the family painted on it. Part of you actually does.

“Well, she thought it would be a good idea to drag us into this.”

Your eyes flicker to Charles and you would only hope that he could tell that you weren’t impressed by his answer. It was true, it was your idea to go to couple’s counseling, but only because you cared. You cared a lot. Sometimes you thought for sure he didn’t anymore.

“What made you take the initiative?”

You wanted to burst with anger. To prove to her that this wasn’t completely your fault. He wasn’t perfect, he tested your patience and despite it all, you still loved him enough to try and salvage your marriage. 

Your therapist stares back, pen ready to scribble possible solutions as if her words would really make a difference. Maybe, deep down, you didn’t like being here either, but you wanted to prove to Charles how he’s been a shit husband. 

You wanted someone to back you up.

Taking a deep breath, you play with your wedding band. The one that you would normally admire, but now just felt like pure suffocation. “He’s given me plenty of reasons to not trust him the way I once did and now I sit here like a fool thinking he might change.”

The way her pen glides is something you hate. 

Looking back up, she takes a moment to analyze the couple. Charles sits with a blank expression, as if he really did have somewhere better to be. In his mind, he did. Then, there was you. Regardless of your words pouring with pure vexation, your body language displayed something else. 

Your eyes were sad and tired. She easily noticed the way your hand would want to reach out to Charles, but would quickly grip tighter to your lap.

“Please, if you don’t mind, would you care to explain.”

You press your lips together. “I first noticed a difference two years into our marriage.”

-

“Chicken or fish?” 

It was Charles’ day off from work in a long time and you were currently on a call with Pascale trying to figure out what to surprise him with. He always raved about how much he loved when you cooked for him. 

“Fish. You guys were over yesterday and I made grilled chicken, remember?”

You hum as you get into your car and start driving to the market, though the conversation is cut short when you finally reach your destination. Walking through the aisle, you decide it would be a fine idea to grab some wine you both love. 

“Charles?” The brunette looks up, red wine in his hand as you smile a bit confused. “What are you doing here? I thought you were playing padel with Lorenzo.” 

“I was! Finished the game early and thought I would grab us some, uh—” Stepping closer, he kisses you and takes the kart. “Shopping for dinner?”

“Thought it’d be nice…” You look at the bottle and yes it’s red, but it's not the kind you both like. “Honey, you got the wrong one.” A panicked look flashes his face before he lets out a nervous laugh.

Of course! I’ll change it right now.

-

“It only took a couple more slip ups for me to find out.”

The therapist nods as her attention turns to Charles, where he plays with his bracelets. “And what made you stay?” You want to laugh. Are we just going to spend time on me? She shakes her head. “We’ll get to him, I just want to hear from you first.”

“After I confronted him he swore he’d stop seeing her. I guess it was my fault for even believing him.”

-

“Amour!”

He runs into the living room, kitchen, basement, everywhere. Breathing hard, he looks around the house as if the furniture will give up and tell him where you are. A loud thud echoes from upstairs. Two steps at a time, he darts quickly to the bedroom. His heart stops when he sees you packing a suitcase.

What are you doing?

You don’t answer. Don’t even spare a passing glance. Instead, you slip the gold band off your finger as you throw it behind you. It only falls a few steps in front of him. He picks it up as he makes his way to you. “I’m so sorry.”

Your back faces him, but you don’t dare make a single sound. You curl your hand against the dress you were folding, bite hard on your lip to not let out a single sob. But your chest hurts, your tears feel like acid against your skin, and you’re almost thankful for pain like that, that way what Charles did wouldn’t be the only thing that hurt.

He makes his way to kneel down in front of you as you stare down at the carpet. You had begged him only a few days ago to put down the deposit on it and for a while he said it wouldn’t be financially responsible, but later agreed. You hated it now.

“Why? Just…why?”

He’s far too embarrassed to even come up with an answer. “I don’t know.”

When you finally look up at him, he sees what he’s caused. Your eyes are bloodshot, your nose is rosy. Cheeks are so bright pink, it almost looked as if someone pinched them. 

You let out a wet laugh as you drop your hands against your lap. “You know, when I woke up this morning and you were gone I thought to myself—Wow! What did I do to deserve a husband who wakes up early enough to get me breakfast on my birthday? And I waited. And waited. But whatever. That’s fine! He probably got busy. Then, Pascale called to confirm if we were still going out for dinner, to which I said, ‘Yes! Of course!...Yes, the gold bracelet! It was beautiful, thank you for helping him pick it out.’ I thought it was sweet, I did, but you never came. And again, the presents are not what mattered, but it was you. I texted you. I called you. I told myself you were probably too busy planning something sweet the way you always did. They all asked where you were and I had to lie and tell them you were going to be late. Do you know how stupid I felt when I saw you and her enter the restaurant holding hands? And then what did I do? I purposefully had you see me run out so you could chase after me, so that your family would never find out about your…fling.”

Charles keeps bowing his head lower and lower almost as if to hide from his mistakes.

“...So where’s my bracelet, huh? Because you got it for me for my birthday, right?” Extending your hand out hurts because you know deep down it was never for you. 

“I don’t have it…” You click your tongue as you retract your arm. Of course you don’t, you seethe. With all your strength, you stand with wobbly knees as you start to walk away. 

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

And he should feel relieved, but instead he feels like a complete asshole. How could he ruin things with his wife who swore to love him with all her being? He knew you well enough to know that you always will and he couldn’t let that go. He would fix this.

He runs to the door to close it. Move, you spit out. He shakes his head as he hugs you. 

“S-stop,” you say in a shaky voice as warm tears begin to flow once more. “It’s okay, just let me go…”

You go stiff when you realize he’s crying into your neck. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…He just keeps repeating it and you can’t stop yourself from hugging him back. He loved you and you loved him. That’s all that mattered.

“Just don’t do it again, okay?”

-

“So he cheated: you forgave him. He put her first and your marriage second.”

You flinch at her words because they only remind you how true they are. For a while, you thought you could both get over it, but you never really did. Not when you were already both standing on opposite sides of the road.

“Mom always did say I always saw the best in people.”

“And you…” Charles gulps. “What made you fall into an affair?”

Months ago, when you first found out, he didn’t have any answer to that question. But he did now.

“I wasn’t smart enough to appreciate my wife.” He looks at you as you avoid eye contact because you know the moment you looked into his eyes, you would fall all over again.

But you still did.

His eyes are sorry, you could tell, and the way his hand makes his way to you is enough for you to grow warm despite the cold room. 

“I’ve made plenty of mistakes - I know that - but none of them could compare to what I did to us. For putting you through so much doubt…For making you think I didn’t love you, but I always did.”

You're crying now as you nod because this is all you ever needed to hear.

“If this was the bump in the road that we had to overcome to grow closer then I accept it because I love you too, Charles. It’s about time you realized that.”

-

Charles feels lighter, happier. Now that he gets to hold your hand after many fights, he’s reminded about all the things he loves about you. But nothing could have prepared him for you to let go of his hand.

“I want a divorce.”

He’s stunned. W-what? We just decided that we were fine, that we were moving on…

You shake your head as you laugh. “My apologies, God, did I make you believe a lie? Feels awful, doesn’t it?”

He furrows his brows as he tries to reach out for you but you keep stepping further back. “Back there you almost had me…You said, ‘...none of them would compare to what I did to us.’ Us. Did you suffer? Did you spend countless, empty nights, crying yourself to sleep wondering what you did wrong? No, because it was all me. It wasn’t what you did to us, it's what you did to me.” You spin your ring one last time before slipping it off and placing it in his hand. He wants to say something to make you change your mind, to oversee his past mistakes one more time, because he swore to himself it would be the last time. But he could tell you’ve made up your mind. You twist your heel, ready to walk away before taking one last look into his green eyes you once loved.

“And the baby is getting my last name.”

[marie-swriting]

Here For You - Emily Prentiss

Masterlist

Summary : Emily claims she doing fine after everything she's been through but you know the truth and you let her know you're here for her.

Warnings : based on 7x12, mention of Doyle and Emily dying, Emily struggling, angst, hurt/comfort.

Word count : 1.2k

French version

Song inspiration : Let Me by Jade LeMac

Comfortably in Morpheus’ arms, you turn around and unconsciously start searching for Emily’s arms without any success. With difficulty, you open one eye and find an empty spot next to you, lightly illuminated by the corridor light. Not knowing where your girlfriend is, you quickly get out of bed. Since she came back from the dead, Emily acts differently which is understandable, but it also means you’re even more stressed than before. Emily has always been secretive, now it’s just worse. You can’t decipher her anymore and you fear the worst. You trot around, following the light and you find Emily in the kitchen, her back facing you. You hear sniffing as soon as you call her name.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” Emily says, faking a smile.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I was just thirsty.”

“Did you have another nightmare?” you ask her, worried.

“No, it’s been two weeks since my last one as you know.”

“You know, you shouldn’t feel ashamed if you still have some, especially after what you’ve been through.”

“Please, don’t start,” she sharply retorts. “I’m already seeing my therapist tomorrow, it’s enough… Sorry, I didn’t mean to be harsh.” She then adds with a softer tone.

“It’s okay.”

“I was just thirsty.” Emily affirms, putting her glass in the sink though you can see right through her. “I’m fine, I swear. Let’s go to sleep.”

Without replying, you take her hand she’s holding out and you walk back to your shared room. As you lay in bed, Emily gets closer to you and puts her head on your chest. It’s a habit she has had since she came back. Emily needs to hear your heartbeats to make sure she isn’t alone. Emily’s muscles relax when you start stroking her hair. The second Emily’s head gets heavier, you finally allow yourself to fall asleep, holding her close to you as if she’d disappear in the next second.

Yet, this is what happens the next morning. Emily left earlier because she has therapy before going on a case. You sigh, noticing her absence, though you know it’s for the best. It reassures you to know Emily is talking to a professional after everything that’s happened, you just wished she would have said goodbye before leaving.

You try to regain control of your emotions during work. You have to take care of a class of thirty seven-year-old students, you have to be focused. However, it doesn’t mean you don’t check your phone at every occasion, hoping to see a text from Emily.

It’s at the end of the day, after you finished eating, that your girlfriend finally calls you and without wasting a second, you pick up the phone. 

“Hey, Em’, how are you? Is the case complicated?”

“Always a bit at the beginning, but we have some leads. What about you? How was your day?”

“Oh, you know, I had to explain the same thing fifteen times, a kid sneezed on my sweatshirt and another one said I was pretty even if I was old. Nothing new.” you say lightly while Emily laughs.

“Another eventful day.”

“How did it go with your therapist?”

“She said everything was alright, she cleared me for work.” she informs you after taking a breath.

“Good. I mean, if it’s the truth.” you add and you can feel Emily rolling her eyes. “I know you, Em’, I know how you struggle to admit it to me when you have a nightmare so I guess it’s harder for you to tell your therapist.”

“It doesn’t affect my job, even Hotch said so.”

“I’m not saying otherwise…” you start carefully, “Look, I know I’d never be able to understand what you went through but I know one doesn't get over this that quickly. You’re allowed to not be okay, to struggle to move on.”

“I’m getting my life back.” she retorts.

“I know and I’m not saying you don’t, however Emily, you only worry about how Derek, Penelope, Spencer and everyone else around you feels since you came back but you don’t worry about the most important person. You. And I’m here for you, to support you. I’m not saying I’ll always have the right words, nonetheless I’ll do my best. You can come to me when you’re not okay.”

“I’m okay.” Emily repeats with a neutral tone.

“Your shrink might believe you when you say it but I know the truth. Emily, stop pushing away the people who love you. Stop pushing me away. You don’t have to go through this alone, especially when you can’t ignore what happened. Let me be here for you.”

Emily stays silent, only her breathing breaks the silence. You hear another voice coming from her end though can’t make out what they’re saying then Emily clears her throat.

“I have to go. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Emily hangs up and you sigh with tears in your eyes. You don’t know if what you said will make Emily react, you hope it will. You can’t handle this situation anymore. You know she needs support but how can you do it when she doesn’t ask for it? You don’t like this feeling of powerlessness. You wish you could take all of her scars so she could finally live freely. 

Throughout the case, Emily keeps her distance. She only sends you a text once a day to say she loves you, a habit you’ve had since the beginning of your relationship. Considering her risky job, you never stay a day without saying it to each other, more particularly since Doyle happened. However, when you reply to her message and you try to create a conversation, she quickly cuts it off. 

The more the days go by and the more worried you are for Emily. Something is wrong, you’re sure about it. You wish you could check on her, however you don’t want to be too overbearing. If you keep insisting you might do the opposite of what you want by creating an anxious atmosphere for Emily; therefore, you try to stay at a good distance, close enough to support her but far enough so she doesn’t push you away. 

As a way to distract yourself, you put all your energy on your work, redoing your lessons, correcting exercises. It only works for so long, your mind quickly finds a way to make you think about Emily.

One evening, about a week after Emily left, you’re at the kitchen table, working and eating when you hear the door opening and a bag loudly falling on the ground. Without waiting, you put down your fork and go toward the entrance rapidly. There, you find Emily with sad eyes. You’re about to talk though she beats you to it.

“I’m not okay.” she admits with a trembling voice.

And in a split second, she burst into tears. You run to her and hold her against you, trying to soothe her. You can tell her legs aren’t supporting her anymore, so you make Emily sit down on the floor while keeping her close. You tenderly stroke her hair and whisper sweet nothings. Emily’s tears run down her cheeks more and more while instinctively she puts her ear against your chest and listens to your heartbeats. In your arms, Emily finally allows herself to let go of all her emotions and to face all the pain she went through. You both know it’ll take time for Emily to heal but you’ll make sure to be here for her and to support her every step of the way.

Masterlist

[creampz]

⋆ ★ RULES 2 BE A #CERTIFIED SQUIRTLING.

#★vegasbaby. is my personal tag for all my work(s). sometimes i don’t update my mlists right away, but any time i post you’ll see things under that specific tag. (fics, hc's, etc..)

minors are to not interact with me or any of my works. must be 18+ or it's an immediate block. it would help a lot if you have some kind of age indicator! i’m not your parent so what you choose to consume despite ignoring my boundaries is up to you. i have mdni everywhere on my blog, but if i catch you lurking at all when you shouldn’t be, i will block you. this is an adult space. if you see a minor lurking, please reach out! it’s impossible to go through my whole following count, but i do check.

i write requests on my own time and when i feel like it! currently, they’re open. thirsts like these take me quicker to write. please be patient because i try to answer everyone <3

i will say this again, but i do not write smut for minor characters. i will not age them up either. i will not write teen!character or teen! reader. it makes me uncomfy, please don’t ask / request that.

i don’t really answer anon hate. you’re gonna be talking to yourself and ignored. i’m not gonna be disrespected on my own blog. if i’m really bored, i’ll troll you with a meme.

keep in mind, i’m only one person running this entire blog and it’s very hard to monitor constantly. if i don’t get to your ask(s), i apologize :’). i love talking to you guys!sometimes when im away ill run on queue

i write only for fem! reader (smut) — for angst, fluff i don’t mind writing in gender neutral.

reblogs + comments are wholeheartedly appreciated !!!

please do not translate my works or feed them to any sites/platforms. screampied is my only tumblr & all works are mine. my ao3 is creampz and im gonna start cross posting my work there—whenever i have time eheh.

⋆ ★ BYF/DNI.

do not interact — minor, pro-isreal, kink-shamer, thinspo, racist / anything anti LGBTQ+, etc.

please refrain from stealing my themes, gifs / graphics. inspiration credit is totally fine by me as long as you ask! i’m fine if people want to use my graphic stuff as inspiration but please don’t entirely copy me.

this blog may write & interact w dark content time to time. i always tag properly in case you wanna filter that ( ex. #cw dacryphilia / #cw gunplay ) but nothing too supreme.

this is a safe goofy horny space! racism, unnecessary hate, and dumb tumblr beef will not be tolerated here. promise, i do not care. i’m just here to write and troll

don’t rant / vent to me in my inbox. i’m not a therapist and it could not only trigger me but my audience. asking for advice is fine i guess, but just heed my warning.

although my personality is a bit flirty, everything is entirely platonic! don’t take what i say serious lol, also i have dark humor so if you’re not with that, this isn’t the blog for you

don’t critique my writing unless you’re my beta reader. i didn’t ask and you’ll be blocked.

messages are only set for mutuals. if you have something you’d like to talk to me about, send me an ask and i’ll reply privately (or message you personally on my end)

don’t spam my inbox with asks. mutual or anon i will block you, it’s annoying & i promise i saw it the first time.

⋆ ★ WRITING.

before sending a thirst/req, please read the kinks im not comfortable with writing (scroll to see) — if you ask for a kink + trope, etc. i stated i won’t write, it’ll be deleted.

please keep your request/ask a few sentences short, not an entire essay. i’ll elaborate however i see fit. HOWEVER, i’ll make an exception if you have a fic idea you’d like to see me write. ex: “hi vegas! what do you think about … (specific au / character)” if it gets me motivated enough, chances are i’ll write it

info list of things i won’t write: stepcest & incest, pseudo-cest, scat, dub + noncon, pregnant s*x, kidnapping, peeing / piss kink, period s*x, somnophilia, ddlg, age regression, fisting, yandere, race play, vore, vomit, feet kinks, sacrilege (ex. priest! character), high school au's (teacher x student is a hard no: only exception—professor / college aus) free use, g4ngbangs, gl0ryholes, etc. (if i get asked asking for any of these kinks / tropes i will delete them.)

no, i don’t write for mahito.

again because this is a frequent question lol, i do not write smut for underage characters (megumi, yuuji, yuuta, maki, etc) please don’t ask me to age them up either !!

yes, i write for the women in jjk.

don’t request me something you’ve already asked another writer. it puts me in a weird position & don’t ask me to recreate something another writer wrote.

when describing reader, they’ll always be short or depicted as smaller than the characters i’m describing. also, i try to be inclusive to all readers. never in my writing will i describe specifics such as (body type, eye color, hair color, skin tone) unless asked. you’re free to imagine your reader how you want! <3

i never use (y/n) in my fics. nothing against it but i just stick to petnames!

if you have any questions about a kink, a req, etc. just ask me !!

i’d like to end this off by saying please USE PROTECTION !!! fiction is not real life, so please wrap it up or dip. also, consent is key <3 kisses !!!

[corrodedhawkins]

Withdrawal: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Follow up to Prozac

Content warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), language, oral (f!receiving), fingering, crying (non-sexual this time), Eddie being a very supportive but also very horny boyfriend, multiple orgasms and praise.

This fic deals with mental health, mental health medication, withdrawing from medication, the possible side effects of these medications, including sexual dysfunction and the shame that can come with them. Please skip this if any of these things are triggering for you.

Authors note: this is inspired by me finally getting off of my SSRI and being able to feel my clit for the first time in five years. We’re celebrating

After years of being on an SSRI and attending weekly sessions, your therapist thought you had made enough progress to taper you off of your Prozac and onto an NDRI with less side effects. They had warned you the withdrawal process would be difficult, but nothing could have prepared you for what hell the next few weeks would be.

Your emotions were all over the place, and you found yourself screaming one minute then bursting into tears the next. The brain zaps were horrible, jolts of electricity shocking you so suddenly you nearly doubled over every time.

Eddie, bless him, had been a saint through the whole process. He let you scream and cry, and when you were done, he’d scoop you up into his lap and you’d fall asleep against his chest, exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster.

He would stop at the store on the way home to grab your favorite ice cream, candy bar, or anything else he thought could make you smile. You had to admit, it was hard to be upset when Eddie was shoving a bag full of chocolate, bubble bath, candles and a book into your arms as he ushered you into the bathroom.

Three weeks into withdrawal you finally start to feel better, your emotions much more stable with only the occasional brain zap. As supportive as Eddie had been, he missed being intimate with you. The second he was sure you were feeling better, he practically shoved you down onto the mattress. He crawls between your legs, whispering a, “missed you”, to your pussy before diving in.

Your snort of amusement turns into a cry of pleasure as you feel Eddie’s tongue lap at your clit.

“Holy fuck”, you stare down at him, propping yourself up onto your elbows. “Wha-what are you doing?”, you gape.

Eddie lifts his head from between your thighs, blowing a strand of hair out of his face. “Eating your pussy?”, he answers slowly, tone questioning.

“No shit”, you slap at his shoulder weakly. “I mean, what are you doing differently? Feels really good.”

He ducks back down to mouth at your clit, sucking the bud into his mouth as his tongue swirls around it. You feel him smirk against you when your hips jolt, hand flying to bury your fingers into his hair.

“You mean this?”, he asks before diving back in and sucking harshly at your clit. His big hands grab your hips to keep you still, pinning you to the mattress.

“Hah-yes. D-don’t know where you learned that but it’s good.”

As much as he loves seeing you enjoy yourself, his confusions wins out. “Baby”, he murmurs as he kisses your inner thighs, his day-old stubble scraping against the sensitive skin. “M’not doing anything differently. This is what I always do. Want me to keep going?”

“Please”, you breathe.

You feel him nod against you as he peppers kisses from your inner thighs to your slit, tongue darting out to lick a stripe from your hole to your clit.

“Ohmyfuckinggod”, you yelp, throwing your legs over his shoulders for leverage. You buck up as much as you can in his hold, grinding Eddie’s nose into your clit as he laps up the slick dripping from your hole to the sheets below.

“Can I have your fingers? Please?”, you whine pathetically as Eddie reaches up to shove two fingers into your mouth. You immediately suck on them, getting them nice and wet.

With one last swirl of his tongue against you, he pulls his fingers from your mouth and taps them against your hole. “This what you want?”

“Yes”, you cry, a little louder than you meant to.

Eddie chuckles, placing a kiss to the inside of your knee. “S’okay, I got you.”

His fingers inside of you is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. They drag against your g-spot, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine, your thoughts a mess of “whatthefuckwhatthefuck”.

The usually elusive orgasm builds quickly, one hand tangled in his curls as the other grips the sheets below. “Please don’t stop”, you beg.

“Not stopping”, he promises, thumb reaching up to swirl circles around your clit as he speaks. “I can feel how close you are, sweetheart. You gonna cum for me?”

All you can do is nod frantically, hand tightening against his scalp.

His mouth replaces his thumb on your clit, keeping the hard but steady pace of his fingers curling up against your g-spot.

It only takes seconds before you’re crying out, muscles seizing before you’re shaking apart as you cum against his tongue.

Sagging back against the pillows, you ride out your orgasm until you’re overstimulated, shoving his head away as you catch your breath.

“Good?”, Eddie smirks, biting playfully at your thigh.

You stare at him for a moment before it hits you. “No way, no fucking way.” Your hands come up to cover your face, the realization making your stomach flip.

“What? What is it?”, Eddie’s on you in an instant, pulling your hands away from your face to get a good look at you. “Baby, talk to me.” His eyes flick over your features, desperately trying to figure out what’s wrong.

The tears you’ve been holding back fall as the care in his tone hits you. “That’s what I’ve been missing?”, you practically wail.

Eddie reaches up to wipe the tears from your face, a look of genuine bafflement etching features. “Huh?”

With a huff, you sit up and wipe the remaining tears from your face. “I just came in less than two minutes, Eddie. Two minutes.” Two fingers are thrust against his chest to emphasize your point. “And I felt everything. Nothing felt numb or dull. It’s like my clit just woke up from a thousand year slumber.”

He snorts at that, biting his lip when you shoot him a glare. “Isn’t…isn’t that a good thing?”, he asks timidly.

“Of course it is”, you try to take a deep breath and fail, the tears coming back before you can stop them. “It’s great, but now all I can think about is how I‘be been cheated out of that with you because of my meds”, you sniffle. “I’d been on it so long I didn’t even remember I could feel like that.”

“Baby”, Eddie sighs, his heart breaking for you as he wraps you in his arms, your head resting in the crook of his neck. “M’so sorry you spent so long like that. Please don’t cry.”

“Can’t help it”, you mumble, burying your face back against his shoulder.

His hand rubs over your back soothingly, waiting for you to to settle before he speaks. “Y’know, I think you’re looking at this entirely the wrong way.” Eddie pulls back and tilts your chin up to look at him.

“Hear me out”, he tucks a few strands of hair behind your ear and leans in close. “If the way you were flailing around like you were possessed is any indication, I think it was pretty good for you?”

“You’re exaggerating”, you turn your attention to his hands, fiddling with the ring on his middle finger, twisting it back and forth.

“Mhm no baby, I’m not. I almost called a priest. Got a little worried we needed an exorcism.” He presses a quick kiss to your temple as you giggle, relieved he can make you feel a little better.

“And if it felt that good”, he continues, voice dropping a few octaves. He knows what that tone does to you, the bastard. “And you came that quickly, imagine how good it would feel if I laid you out and took my time with you, pulled out every trick I know. Imagine how many times I could make you cum.”

You can hear the smirk in his tone as his hand snakes down your body, thumb swirling deliciously slowly around your clit.

A shaky breath rushes out of you, the feeling of your clit starting to throb again startling you. If you were lucky, you came once, unable to even think about a second orgasm. Apparently, things had changed.

Eddie nuzzles into your neck, sucking kisses to the exposed skin, his thumb picking up speed. “Think you can go again?”

He chuckles against your skin when you immediately nod. “Are you gonna be a good girl and let me do whatever I want with you?”

You made a mental note to send your therapist a fruit basket as you came for the third time that night.

[violetasteracademic]

Velaris Memorial Hospital

A Grey's Anatomy x TTPD inspired Three Brothers and Three Sisters Three Part Fanfiction

Hey. Life is horrible and scary. I want to share a teaser for a project I have been pouring my heart and soul into that I hope some of you might find some joy and reprieve in.

These stories are tightly woven together and designed to be read in order. Fesyand, Nessian, and Elriel's journey's will be posted individually and chronologically, and occur on an overlapping but staggered timeline. However, there are incredibly heavy themes and topics that may not be suitable for all readers. I will do my best to ensure each individual story can be enjoyed on its own if there are topics you would rather avoid. Please read the content warning for all three stories and take care of yourself first. This collection is coming soon if I can pull myself out of this black hole, but here is a synopsis of each story ahead!

Part One:

Feyre Archeron is an art therapist for the children's cancer wing at Velaris Memorial Hospital. After leaving her abusive fiancé and moving back in with her sisters, her plans to heal and move on with peace and privacy go up in flames when women begin to come forward with sexual harassment allegations against her ex, Tamlin Thornwood.

If she doesn't come forward with her own story of abuse and testify against the man who harmed her and so many other women, he stands a chance at winning his countersuit for defamation and wrongful termination. Terrified of what her patient's families will think of her if they find out the truth, struggling to forgive herself, and suprised to be falling for the absolute wrong man, Feyre has to dig deeper than she ever has before to find her strength.

Rhysand Noctis is the owner and CEO of Eventide Enterprises. After losing his mother to cancer, he has felt adrift. No amount of money and acclaim has been able to give him the sense of home and belonging he has lost.

When an old family rival, Tamlin Thornwood, is tangled up in a scandal and lawsuits, Rhysand learns that Velaris Memorial Hospital is in trouble. The only non-profit hospital in Velaris and the place that cared for his mother has lost all of their donors and board members. Rhys decides to purchase the hospital and dedicate his time to restoring its reputation and making it a safe place for women and the community of Velaris to work and receive affordable care.

A chance encounter sends Feyre and Rhys colliding towards each other before they realize how inextricably their personal and professional lives are already intertwined.

CW: Domestic violence, sexual assault, sexual harassment, child death, trauma, mental health, explicit sexual content.

*Additional note: I don't typically like to use the term "anti" in this fandom, but it is best to be exceptionally clear that this is an abundantly anti-Tamlin piece. If seeing this character portrayed as a serial abuser makes you feel upset or uncomfortable in any way, please protect yourself (and me) by skipping this one.

Part Two:

Nesta Archeron doesn't need anyone to take care of her. After losing both her parents at age eighteen and becoming legal guardian to her two younger sisters, she gave up her dreams of going to law school and worked her way up from from an assistant with nothing more than a high school diploma and unmatched grit to become the head of public relations at Velaris Memorial Hospital.

When her younger sisters ex-fiancé scandalizes the hospital and leaves them without funding or a board of directors, she has to work closely with the new ownership, Eventide Enterprises, to save the hospital and prevent it from becoming for-profit like SkyView, their rival hospital in the financial district. She has full confidence in herself and her plan. However, Eris Vanserra, the head of PR and legacy staff at SkyView, is out for blood after Nesta won over the youngest Vanserra to Velaris Memorial and got an op ed published on the negative outcomes associated with for-profit care. That, and she now has to answer to Cassian- a man she has already sworn to hate before learning who he was, and is making her job- and life- an absolute pain in the ass.

Cassian is the lead financial strategist and project manager after Eventide Enterprises purchased Velaris Memorial Hospital. After having to drop out of college before sophomore year to deal with the death of his mother, he struggles to overcome the chip on his shoulder being in an industry where name, money, and education is everything. Restoring the reputation and the financial security of Velaris Memorial Hospital is not only personal, but professionally the largest responsibility he has had in his career thus far. Everything is on the line.

Complicating matters is his reliance on Nesta Archeron, the steely and fiery PR director working side by side with him to ensure the Starfall Ball is a massive success and wins back the hospitals donors. There is no denying that the difficulty maintaining their professional lines is fueled by both hate and attraction. But as they continue to work closely together, the layers peel back and they learn that they have more in common than they thought. Family secrets, generational trauma, and their deepest shames are somehow safe in each other's hands. However, lines are crossed that might be impossible to come back from.

CW: Extortion, blackmail, discussions of suicide, trauma, mental health, explicit sexual content.

Part Three:

Elain Archeron has always strived for perfection. After competing in pageants her entire childhood and teen years, she shocked everyone by using her scholarship to relentlessly pursue a career in the medical field as a labor and delivery nurse instead of fulfilling her mothers dream to go on to compete in the Miss Universe pageant.

She spent her early twenties working instead of dating, but her plan to get married and start a family is back on track now that has the "perfect" fiancé, Graysen Nolan.

However- the grueling hours, cracks in her relationship, and anxiety over what her life will look like when she becomes a Nolan begins to sink in. It's not easy for Elain to change her plans or take a leap, but when a tragic accident sends her life into a tailspin, she is forced to pick apart the shattered pieces of her soul and learn what unrealized dreams are truly hers and what belongs to the ghosts of her past.

Azriel Singer is an award winning photojournalist who has spent his life travelling the world. He has lived for the thrill of never knowing what comes next, being on the front lines of danger and history in the making. He is used to going to sleep in one city and waking up with a contract on the other side of the world, not knowing if he'll be headed into a war zone or march for justice.

When his brother Rhysand hires him for a six month corporate contract as the photographer on retainer for Velaris Memorial Hospital as they rebuild their image, his path crosses with Elain Archeron. In so many ways, she is his opposite. She has always wanted to travel, but has never left Velaris. She has always wanted to start a family, a thought that has only ever given Azriel night sweats. And she is engaged.

Azriel and Elain wind up forming a deep friendship, creating bets with each other to help push them outside of their respective comfort zones. The more they get to know each other more deeply than anyone has before, the more they question who they are. No amount of planning and on-paper perfection could have prepared them for a connection that pushes them both beyond the narratives they've written for themselves before meeting someone who can challenge them in all the most terrifying and most fulfilling ways.

CW: Fertility issues, child abuse, infant death, parent death, medical trauma associated with car accidents, birth, and premature birth, explicit sexual content.

This is my first time writing modern AU and contemporary romance. Thank you so much to @nikachansstuff and @rosanna-writer for offering to beta!

I truly hope I do it justice. I also want to reiterate that these are dark and very emotionally heavy stories. The characters will be dealing with issues that are deeply personal to me. They will sometimes be hard to understand and harder to love.

While I am not a mental health professional, I am a huge mental health advocate and that will come through in a blend of my own personal experiences and research, but mental health is extremely personal and not one size fits all. Nothing should be taken as mental health advice. Please reach out for professional help if you need, and don't give up.

This is by far the most terrifying but meaningful work I have done, and I am scared shitless and deeply excited to share it with you. This will not be for everyone, but I hope it will find where it is meant to go.

[lightdancingwords]

Come Find Me - Part Five

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader

Series Summary: You are a new arrival to Big Sky, Montana, and found gainful employment with the local insurance department next door to the sheriff’s department. A whole new life with your past haunting you, while Beau is still dealing with the entanglements with his ex-wife. Can either of you succeed in overcoming your ghosts?

Word Count: 4,086

Tags/Warnings: Mentions domestic violence, intimate partner violence, police work, very little fluff, lots of fear, angst, escalation of threat

Song Inspiration: My Tears Ricochet by Taylor Swift.

A/N: Beau’s POV plays stronger here. If you want to be added to the tag list, please let me know! Yes, the song inspiration was so darned powerful I had to use it as the chapter title.

Divider: credit to @tsunami-of-tears

Chapter Five: My Tears Ricochet

You’d spent quite a few nights at Beau’s trailer since that night he invited you over. It was strictly platonic, with nothing more than a few hugs and sweet cheek caresses. Beau seemed determined to not overstep his boundaries as friend while you found yourself wishing he’d jump that line and then some. You weren’t sure if it was because he was cautious to not rush what was growing between you or if it was, as Doris said, because of his lingering feelings for Carla.

In the end, you decided it didn’t matter. You were okay with how it was progressing, despite the snail’s pace, because you were just so skittish still. Damn Mark. Damn him to hell for eternity.

After that night at Beau’s, you asked Doris for references for a therapist experienced in domestic violence. You needed the help. You knew you needed it. You had to get used to living alone. You had to get used to having an attraction to a man that was actually a good man. Beau was nothing like Mark, yet you kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You regretted voicing that out loud once to Doris… because later that week, not only did one shoe drop, so did the other.

“I just… I keep waiting for him to get mad,” you said to Doris during lunch Tuesday afternoon. “To get fed up with me asking to come over and sleep outside.”

Doris arched a brow at you. “Girl, it’s freezing at night and you’re still sleeping on those chairs… outside?”

Sheepishly, you nodded.

“Why the hell won’t you go inside? I’m sure Beau has a pull out in that blasted trailer of his. Or make him sleep outside while you take the bed?”

“Because…” You trailed off. You honestly didn’t know, not really. Then it hit you: “Because I feel like I’m imposing,” you said, your voice small.

“Girl.” Doris was exasperated. It was obvious. You found yourself shrinking into yourself. She saw it and narrowed her dark eyes at you. “Stop that.”

“I can’t help it—”

She lifted a hand and cut you off. “Yes, you can. You feel the fear, want to shrink into yourself, to avoid—” Doris stopped herself and sucked in a breath. “Mark threw things at you, didn’t he? You tried to stand up for yourself. You tried to take space, your rightful space… and he threw things at you.”

You looked down, the fear clutching at you. “Yes,” you whispered.

“Jesus.” Doris took a breath. “Hon, listen to me. I need you to really listen to me.” Doris placed a gentle hand over yours and squeezed. “You told me, word for word, that Beau told you to impose on him, to cut into his routine, didn’t he?”

You nodded meekly.

“Then cut into his life and his routine. Take that bed. That boy is used to sleeping in worse conditions. Comes with the job,” she said with a wry chuckle.

“But Doris…” You pushed through the hesitation. “I actually like sleeping outside. No, really, I do. It’s so beautiful. So peaceful. I… I’ve been sleeping so well, I’m actually amazed.”

“You feel safe,” Doris murmured, studying you with those keen eyes of hers. “And it’s not just because it’s Beau’s home.” You shook your head. “It’s because all you see is land for miles.” You nodded. “I keep forgetting you’re not like me. That, and I’ve had time to get over my Stan. You’re still so newly freed.”

You gave Doris a rueful smile. “I wish I was brave like you, Doris.”

“You are brave.” Her gaze flickered between your eyes. “Oh… you don’t remember.”

Your brows knitted in puzzlement. “Remember what?”

“Now, I told you I saw the files. That I spoke to your landlady.” You nodded. “You fought back. Even as Mark was… well, you fought back.”

“I did?” You were shocked. You honestly don’t remember much of that moment of when Mark was trying to kill you. The therapist said it was normal, that the brain automatically tried to protect against trauma. It’s why so many trauma survivors will have blank spots in their memories.

“Yes,” Doris said, leaning forward, squeezing your hand. “You tried to tear out his eye. He’s got this lovely scar down his face because you kept trying to claw at his face.”

You sat there, floored. Your heartbeat was so loud in your ears. A memory, a snapshot of a moment, flashed in your mind. You had a vague impression of trying to gouge out his eye. Slowly, you nodded, and pulled your hand free of Doris’s comforting grip to stare at your hands. Long fingers, with short nails. You’d fought back.

You didn’t want to die then. Nor did you want to die now. Mark didn’t rob you of that.

“I’m glad,” you said at last. “That I fought back. And I hope he never forgets that.”

Doris smiled at you, proud of your declaration. “Good. Now for the love of God, go sleep inside Beau’s trailer. I don’t want you getting frostbite, hypothermia, or a stiff back. Those damned chairs are uncomfortable.”

You laughed, embarrassed. “You’ve been?”

“Yes. Beau invited us all out for Christmas last year. I spent all of five minutes on those chairs and told Beau I’m an old woman. I need cushion.”

“And how did he respond?” you asked with a grin.

“He went inside, got this big ol’ pile of blankets and set them down as a temporary cushion, apologizing profusely the whole time. That boy is bony as hell,” she said with a shake of her head. “I don’t know how he finds those chairs comfortable. Or you!”

Despite the shaky moment during lunch, you found you were grateful that Doris talked to you about what happened. You admired her so damned much. She was brave and no-nonsense. As you were finishing up paperwork on a phone call, the front door chimed and entered an unknown woman.

She was tall, or at least her heels gave her height. She had dark brown hair and dark eyes. She was in a lovely suit, clearly tailored for her figure, if your assessment of her appearance was correct. She had money, you could tell.

“Hi there! Welcome to The Big Guy,” you said, immediately getting up to offer her your hand. There was something wildly familiar with her, but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

“Hi there, thank you,” she said, taking your hand with a firm grip.

“How can I help you? Please,” you added, gesturing to the chair across from you.

She took it and sat down. “Well, I was looking to switch insurance carriers for my car. I’m having issues with mine and, well, it’s time.”

You nodded, understanding that. It was a common complaint. “Of course. Oh God, I’m sorry, I’m Y/N,” you added.

“Oh.” There was a tone in her voice that had you looking up.

“Um… is—is something wrong?” you asked, confused and more than a little anxious.

“I’m Carla De Lugo,” she said carefully. “Emily’s mother.”

Your stomach dropped. You had no idea what Emily told her mother. You had no idea what Beau might’ve told her. Not to mention what, if any, gossip she might have heard. Doris and Beau reassured you that domestic violence gossip was a no-go, but that didn’t stop the other kind.

“Emily told me you were working here,” Carla went on. “I hope this isn’t going to create problems.”

Confusion rose. “Why would there be problems?”

Carla took a careful breath. “Because of your interest in my ex-husband.”

Oh boy. “Carla,” you said gently, “Beau hasn’t said anything about you to me.” Which was true. Beau skirted talking about Carla as much as he possibly could. The closest you got to anything negative of her came from Emily, but you weren’t going to say that. “He’s kept that to himself.”

Surprise crossed Carla’s face. You wondered if she had that strong of a negative perception of her ex-husband. “He hasn’t said anything?”

“No.”

“I… oh.”

You narrowed your eyes at her slightly. “Carla… I want you to know, nothing is happening between Beau and I.”

“But you’re interested.”

Were you? God, there were days when you were glad nothing was happening, because relationships just felt like too much to handle. “I… yes, I am,” you decided. The way he called you “darlin’”, the way he looked at you…. “Yes. I am.”

Carla nodded, then smiled faintly. “I’m sorry. I ambushed you in the worst ways. I knew who you were, but you didn’t know who I was. Emily told me about you, after the festival. I guess… I just wanted to know who had my daughter raving so excitedly.”

You blinked, surprised. “Emily was… she was?”

“Yeah. I’m… Y/N, I’m a protective mom. After last year…” Her voice tightened, and something dark passed over her face. “It was a bad year. I almost moved back to Texas with Emily. Beau said if we did, he’d come with us, because he didn’t want to lose Emily.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“Emily did, actually.”

Your brows rose in surprise.

“Yeah.” Carla smiled a bit at your expression. “Same. But she said that it felt like she’d be running away from everything that scared her. And it…” She paused, clearly being careful in how she chose her next words. “It didn’t change one major fact: her father came and he saved her. Beau kept his promise. He said he’d come for her and he did. So she knew she’d be safe no matter where she went… because he’d be there.”

You felt your heart swell. That was exactly how you felt so far with Beau. He cut through your doubts and kept telling you to mess up his life, impose on him. And he never got mad. Not once. Despite waiting for that to happen, he kept surprising you.

“He’s a good man,” you murmured.

“He really is. I knew no matter what happened between us, I knew Beau would be there when we needed him.”

You smiled, that realization blooming in your heart. Maybe it was time to change the dynamic between you and Beau. If you could gather your nerves. “And now that you’ve met me?”

Carla tilted her head slightly and smiled. “I can see why Emily likes you. I’d like to bring you my business, Y/N, and maybe we can be friends too.”

—

Meanwhile, at the sheriff’s department, Beau was agonizing over a report he had to write. He really didn’t want to. That was the one chore of being a sheriff he honestly hated. He wished he could fob it off on Doris, but he knew he couldn’t. He did the work, the interview, it had to be him that did it. But God, if and when they invent a device that allowed it to transcribe what happened in real time or just took his memory and wrote it down, they’d be billionaires. And then he’d never have to do paperwork again.

He groaned, raked his fingers through his hair. The phone rang, a welcomed interruption, and he reached for it. “Sheriff Beau Arlen,” he said without preamble.

He sat up, the news on the other end ominous. “How long ago?” He paused, then scowled. “Why the fuck did you let him loose? Don’t give me that bullshit! You knew! He nearly killed that girl!”

He saw Doris glance over at him at the rising volume and his profanity.

“Sonvabitch! Get your asses in order and do your job,” he snarled into the phone. “I’ll do my part!” And he slammed the phone down on the receiver.

Doris rushed over, closed the door behind her. She had a look of fearful anticipation. “What happened?”

Beau wanted to flip his table, or possibly throw the lamp. He did neither. It was bad enough he just cussed out Billings PD. “Mark broke bail,” he said with a heavy breath. “They checked his apartment. It’s empty.”

“He’s on the run,” Doris said at once.

“Doris…” Beau swallowed hard. “He knows where she is.”

Doris stared at him, stunned. “Beau… you have to tell her.”

“I know, Doris.” He dreaded it. He didn’t want to see the light that was just beginning to sparkle in Y/N’s eyes fade. He didn’t want to see the fear. “I’ll… I’ll tell her tonight.”

“She’s coming over again?”

Beau fought the blush. The way Doris phrased it made it sound like Beau and Y/N were copulating like bunnies, when he hadn’t even kissed Y/N. Though, God, he really, really wanted to. “Yeah.”

Doris nodded. “You better bring her inside this time, boy.”

“Doris!”

“Bring her inside or no more lasagna.”

He rolled his eyes. “That threat will stop workin’ eventually, you know that?”

“Is it working?”

He muttered something under his breath. Doris nodded with a smirk. It was working.

—

Y/N was so glad the day was over. While meeting Carla had been a shock, it turned into a good one. Carla seemed to be a good person, and you hoped you might be able to be friends. Wouldn’t that be a nice dynamic? You dating Beau, Carla being a friendly ex-wife and Emily….

You froze outside your door, keys in hand. The door was open, just a crack. Your heart stopped, then pounded wildly. You felt stuck in place, your brain screaming at you, but your body wouldn’t move. Couldn’t move.

You don’t know how long it took for you to finally move, to reach for your cellphone, as you ran for your car. Just as you locked the door, Beau picked up.

“Hey darlin’—”

“Beau, someone broke into my house,” you said, your voice shaking badly, interrupting him.

There was a moment of silence, then, firmly: “Stay in your car. I’m on my way. I’ll call Jenny Hoyt. She’s closest to you.” You heard the truck door close, the engine start up. “No, change that. Drive to the sheriff’s department. We got cameras there. Jenny’ll meet you there.”

“O-okay.”

“Darlin’,” he said firmly. “You’re safe. You’re gonna stay safe.”

You suddenly remembered what Carla said. That Beau would do everything to keep his family safe. Did that also include you? You wanted so badly to believe that Beau would raise Heaven and Hell to keep you safe.

“Okay,” you said, your voice teary-edged.

“I’m on my way, darlin’,” he said, and hung up.

With tears blurring your vision, you started up the car and drove to the sheriff’s department. Somehow you got there without a car accident. Somehow you got there intact. The moment you pulled into a parking spot and put the car in park, the tears came. You sobbed, gripping the steering wheel, unable to stop shaking.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, weeping, when Jenny gently knocked on your window. You gasped, looked up, and relaxed at the sight of the deputy. You turned the car on long enough to roll down the window.

“Hey, you doing okay?” Jenny asked, her brows knitted in concern.

“You mean besides my home being broken into?” you asked, wiping at the tears.

“Yeah, that was a dumb question. Sorry.” She glanced over her shoulder, scanning the area, before turning her gaze back to you. “Beau called me. He wants me to stay here with you until we get the all clear.”

“O-okay,” you said, hating how your voice couldn’t stop shaking. “God.”

“Hey. There’s no shame in being afraid.” Jenny grabbed your shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You’re not trained like us. You did the right thing by going to the car and calling Beau, okay?”

You stared at Jenny, then absurdly: “Deputy Hoyt—”

“Jenny, please.”

“Jenny.” You actually smiled, just a bit. “Do you… teach self-defense?”

She tilted her head at you. “I can do private lessons if you’re interested.”

“I am,” you said. You decided then and there that you wanted to learn how to defend yourself. Not just some lucky attack. No… you wanted to really learn.

Jenny smiled. “Twice a week. There’s a gym three blocks down from here. They let me use a room on the side if I need it. We’ll use it there. Sound like a plan?”

“It… it does.” You studied her for a long moment. “Jenny… how long did it take you to learn to hit back instead of cringing in fear?”

“Honestly? It takes a lot of practice. Even then, in the heat of it, instincts are hard for us to break. My instincts, when I’m in a fight, is to hit back. To defend myself. Whatever your reactions may be… don’t hate them. They’re a part of you.”

“So… what do you suggest then?” Your instincts had always been to cringe, to make yourself smaller. You were tired of being afraid.

“Lean into it. Use that fear. If your fear is to make yourself smaller, do it—then, when your attacker comes at you, punch up.” Jenny demonstrated on the parking lot. You watched as she made herself smaller, as though cringing against an attacker, and then doing an upper cut.

You took that in, and wondered how Mark would handle that. You decided he wouldn’t expect it, and determined to follow through the next time you ran into him. Or… anyone else.

Jenny’s cellphone rang and she reached for it. “Hoyt.”

You watched her as she walked away for a moment, her voice low and indistinct. A few moments later, she came back. “Beau’s at your place. He needs you to come with me and see if there’s anything missing. You up for it?”

“Yes,” you said firmly.

“Come on. You’re riding with me.”

—

You got to your rental and stared. There were several sheriff vehicles, all unmarked, but with their portable lights on the dashboards. You hadn’t expected that.

“Did Beau call all the deputies within driving distance?”

Jenny shot you a smile. “It sure looks like it, doesn’t it?” She pulled up to curb just as Beau came out of your rental. His expression was grim, dark, and you were terrified of what could bring that man down.

“Deputy,” Beau said with a nod to Jenny. “Ms. Y/N, I need you to come with me.”

He was so distant, formal. You know immediately he had to be on duty and that meant being business first. You took a breath, vowed to not take it personally. You walked alongside him as he took you inside.

“We searched the perimeter, checked windows, the back door,” Beau said, keeping a hand behind your back. “There’s no other sign of forced entry. What I need you to do is tell me if anything looks moved, disturbed, missing. I know you can’t search the whole place, but first impressions is a start.”

You bit your lip, nodded. You looked over the living room, stopped when you came to an end table. “There’s a photo missing.”

Beau’s expression darkened. “What was on the photo?”

“M-me,” you said, thinking. “And my parents. I was… I was 18, just graduated. High school graduation photo.”

He nodded, noting it on a small memo pad. “Keep going, darlin’,” he said, his voice low. You glanced at him as he slipped with the endearment.

It took an hour. Every photo you had up was gone. Even the one of just your cats when you were a child, one you loved dearly. Nothing else was disturbed, nothing else was missing. Beau noted every single one of them down while a forensic team checked for fingerprints, checked the door for damage.

Then it was done.

You sat on the sofa as Beau did a final check around the home. Jenny was the only one of the deputies to stay behind. She stood by the front door, watching both the interior and the exterior.

“You doing all right?” she asked kindly.

“Why would he take the photos?” you asked, the question having been on your mind for hours. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“To hurt you, is my guess.” She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Break you down, piece by piece. Sentimental pieces at a time.”

“God.” You rubbed your face.

“You can’t stay here,” Jenny said firmly.

“You’re right, she can’t,” Beau said, stepping right up to the front door. “Not until we find him.”

Jenny nodded. “What about the Blue Bird outside of town?”

“That works. It’s down the way from my trailer,” Beau said.

You looked at both of them, confused. “The what where?”

“Blue Bird Motel. Ridiculous name I ever heard,” Beau said, glancing at you. “Pack a go bag, darlin’. Tomorrow, I’m goin’ through this whole place, top to bottom, make sure nothin’ is hidin’.”

“Beau,” Jenny said quietly, grabbing his arm. He glanced at her and she tugged at him to go outside. You heard their voice, low, heated, but not the words.

You hesitated, then decided to go just pack a bag. You grabbed a few sets of clothing, underwear, socks, and even a change of shoes. Then you packed your toiletries. You debated what else you’d need for the next few days. Like a book or music.

“Cell charger,” Beau said gently at your bedroom door.

You whipped around, startled.

“Sorry,” he said, stepping inside. He glanced around your room, at the simple setup. “Nice. I dunno why but I always thought your room would be full of flowers.”

“Flowers?” you echoed in surprised.

“Yeah. Flower… what is it… motifs. Paintings. Duvet.” He shook his head. “You deserve flowers, darlin’. Every day.”

You smiled faintly. “Why?”

“You just do,” he murmured, touching your cheek for a brief moment.

You stared at him, heart pounding. Something soft and dark passed in his green eyes, then quickly concealed once more.

“Poppernak’s here,” Jenny said, poking her head into the room.

“What?” you asked, confused.

“He’s takin’ you to your car,” Beau explained. “I’m gonna follow you there. Then you follow me to the Blue Bird.”

Relief flooded you as you realized that Beau was going to be with you at every step of the way. You felt the knot inside you loosen. “Okay.”

��

The Blue Bird was… quaint. That was the most respectful way you could describe it. It was two stories, with the most obnoxious, giant blue bird sign you’d ever seen. You parked next to Beau’s truck and he walked you inside the front lobby to check in.

Everything went smoothly until it was time to pay. Beau stopped you and offered the cashier his card.

“Beau,” you whispered, confused.

“It’s on the Big Sky sheriff department,” he said in explanation.

That made you pause. You hadn’t expected that. “But…”

“I ordered you outta your house, darlin’, at least I could do is cover the motel bill,” he said with a faint smile.

The cashier quirked a brow at him and you fought a blush. Did Beau not realize how that sounded? It took everything you had to just let him pay, take the receipt and handed you the motel key. You followed alongside him in silence as he escorted you to the room.

“You gonna be okay here, darlin’?” he asked as you walked into the simple motel room. It was a queen sized bed flanked by two night stands, a television set on top of a dresser, and a small table with two chairs. It wasn’t much, but it’d do. You only wished it was his trailer, not some strange motel room.

“Not my favorite idea, but… yeah, I’ll be okay,” you said, glancing around with an internal sigh.

“I’ll find him, darlin’,” he said firmly, holding your gaze.

You gave him a shaky nod. “Thank you, Beau.”

He went up to you, cupped your face, and your breath hitched in your throat. For a brief moment, you thought he was going to kiss you, then he leaned down, pressed his lips against your forehead. “Anytime, darlin’,” he whispered. “Get some sleep.”

When he left, you stood there, shaking. After you finally got into gear, changed into your pajamas, brushed your teeth, you decided to check through the peephole. That’s when you did a double-take. Beau was outside, in his truck, fast asleep in the driver side.

Absurdly, you smiled, and despite being in a strange bed and in a strange room, you actually slept.

Tag List: @spxideyver

[jade-len]

guys, guys.

be honest with me. would anybody be willing to read any SVSSS x reader stuff (or, just SVSSS with reader fanfics in general?) like please i'm being so deadass right now. i am very willing to write, it's just that i have no clue if anyone would want to read that???

i know that the people in this fandom don't necessarily have any x or & readers, but i'm sad and pathetic and have a weird emotional attachment to the characters. like hear me out guys.

i present to you all a few ideas i have:

1. reader transmigrates into SVSSS and decides, fuck it, let's become a counselor/therapist/emotional support service pal. half of the conflicts in the novel would've been prevented if therapy, communication, and simple observation existed! mu qingfan, give me a chance!! i promise this will lower the qi deviation rates by at least 50%.

liu qingge? alright, let's work on learning identifying your feelings better and not respond via violence to every situation. shen jiu? hey, hey, it's okay to be vulnerable! no- please don't go self projecting yourself onto an innocent 14 year old. luo binghe? *pulls out 5 different documents* heavens, where do we even start? like, gods forbid any of them have a proper support system, or at least be able to express their feelings and deal with them in a healthy manner!

2. liu qingge x reader where he gradually stops painfully pining and gets the love that he deserves. he gets his pretty face cupped gently and kisses all over it. that's it. that's the fic idea.

3. bingge, the original luo binghe, gets sent back in time.. all the way back to right when his mother died. he believes that he's been given a chance to re-enact his revenge, play it smart all the way from the start and have an upper hand now that he has to relive this! however, that quickly changes when this random fucking person (aka, reader) just wont stop bothering him?? what the hell do they want??? (for this one, i'm not sure if reader should be a transmigrator who believes they're in SVSSS instead of PIDW and is unaware of the whole bingge thing, or just some npc that proves him wrong about kindness).

4. SVSSS hater (or someone who just has a very complicated relationship with it!) reader transmigrates into it after tweeting "stupid author, stupid novels". they then proceed to accidentally collect two husbands they were so actively against before. ugh! now that i'm here, i guess i'll try to help out with their relationship and give my advice so that they won't have so much conflict, ones that were super frustrating to even hear about!! shen qingqiu, that dense ass guy and unhealthily codependent luo binghe! wait, what? what do you mean they both want me to be part of their marriage now??

sincerely, very much inspired by this tweet (reader most likely isn't going to be an anti, though);

low-key might combine the first and fourth fanfic idea? will make reader gender neutral (or even male!) though. but overall idk. idk if people will even wanna see that at all, man. ok please give thoughts. or not lol

(10-11-23 edit: i'm currently writing the bingge one rn!)

[ollie-lolly]

Royal treatment (18+) Diavolo x gender neutral reader

Note: HUGE thanks to @l3viat8an8an for giving me the inspiration to write this! (My dyslectic ass is dying HELP).

started and finished on: 13th of march 2023

Media: Obey me

Relationship: Diavolo x gender neutral reader

Warnings: This contains very suggestive content, minors please don't interact

This is part one. part two part three

Word count: 963

He just was so attractive, you could never quite put a finger on why you made that conclusion. Maybe it was his smile, the way he carried himself or it was his great round a-. "Mc what is going on in your little mind?" Diavolo's voice halted your train of thoughts. You quickly scrambled to keep the conversation going. His eyes seemed so innocent but had a dark playfulness to it, like he could exactly read whatever you were pondering about. "I was just reminiscing on an event that happened this month". Diavolo leaned in "Do tell". "W- Well I saw this really pretty ring in a jewelry store and it has not left my mind since". "It must be very special to you". "I suppose so! I have been working my butt off in Ristorante Six just to even get a chance of-". 

"Sweet, sweet little human, why didn't you come to me earlier?". "For wha-" He came to your side. "Barbatos!΅. Barbatos being the great butler he is, came just around the corner. "Yes my lord?". "Could you get me something?". He gently put a hand on your back. "Go on, show him what you want". You shakingly grabbed your phone trying to maintain a normal breathing pattern. Desperately searching for the picture through your camera roll, when Diavolo's hand slowly went downwards. Eventually resting on your lower back. "H- here" You showed it to Diavolo first. "You have wonderful taste, would you like anything engraved on the inside?". "Your name would be lovely lord Diavolo". 

You turned the phone towards Barbatos, he quickly eased the sexual tension "I'll be back within an hour or so" He bowed and gracefully left. "I-  i am sorry i panicked, i didn't mean to say your name Lord Diavolo I-" Diavolo chuckled and softly grabbed your face. "Do you regret it? I can call him back if you want ". You felt your face heat up. "N- n- no i thought it was improper of me i am so sor- ". He softly placed the finger of his other hand on your lips, "Shhh, please don't be. I already rather enjoy the sound of your idea. Besides this is just a small gift, see it as a beginning of something new"

From then on, you found a small pile of gifts resting on the top of your bed almost every night. Each with a special note attached. You heard a notification:

Chat

Diavolo: Do you like the new gifts I sent you?

MC: Are you sure you sent this to the right person?

Diavolo: You humans have a lovely sense of humor!

MC: Lord Diavolo I was not joking, how could I repay you for all this?

Diavolo: Please sweet human, this is just play money. You deserve this and much for fundamentally serving as the avatars family therapist. With me you can finally have peace from such hard labor. Repaying me is really unnecessary, but if that's what you desire you are welcome to visit me tomorrow.

MC: I am looking forward to it!

Diavolo: So am i.

You had no idea how much he loved spoiling you. All of his belongings meant nothing to him next to you. His heart broke when he saw you the next day. "My little one you have been really quiet, are you okay?" 

You looked up from your tea "Well, there is something bothering me. Remember back when you gave me the ring?". Diavolo looked at you, his hands neatly folded "Yes of course i remember". "Well" you looked at the very ring trying to form your sentence. "You said it was the start of something new. What did you mean by that? What did you wish for?". He laughed "Before we continue could you do me a favor?".  "Yes sir".  "Could you call your work for me?". Now that was something you did not expect. "There is something I have to discuss with the owner". You grabbed your phone, called your work and gave it to him, still finding it weird that he didn't use his own phone. "Hello i have come to say that MC is quitting their job, good day" you were left speechless. 

"Now to come back to your topic and why I did that. I wish to change our relationship." 

He opened a small drawer under the table. Revealing a small piece of paper with beautiful handwriting. He grabbed a small pot of ink with its matching quill. "This is what I want us to be. Recently I did some research and I found something that would suit us quite nicely. If you give me your treasured blessing, you will be my sugar baby from this point onward. Not much will change if that is what you wish. I will keep giving whatever your heart desires and you don't have to work for a single minute for it. 

In return you give me your time and whatever romantic advancements you are comfortable with. Now I know this is a very important decision, you can take your time with your deci-". He got cut off by the quick scratching sounds of the quill hitting the fine paper. "I accept" Now it was his turn to be taken aback. "I- I guess we are moving on to the next step, how intimate do you want our relationship to be?" You put the quill neatly back in the ink pot. "Well if i call you daddy, does that answer your question?" His eyes widened "Well this is a pleasant surprise. My first request begins." He opened another drawer in the table and revealed a small wrapped gift. Proceeding to push it towards your direction. "Go change into this. Daddy will wait here, my little monarch".

[ellejos]

my year of rest and relaxation without rotting and ravaging

Truth be told seeing a person with healthy habits, an organised life and a graceful personality and suggesting that this lifestyle is easy to accomplish is absolutely misleading, because it's not.

We're watching short videos of morning routines created by patrick batemans. We're reading inspirational prompts and quotes from the safety of our couch. We're scrolling through pinterest creating lists destined to dust on our profiles.

I came to the conclusion that the self improvement movement can be just as toxic as self destruction and there is a high risk for developing a depression and/or OCD (failing your goals and ambitions can push you into a downward spiral of rotting and ravaging).

» visualise activites for your relaxation

take a piece of paper and write down what is relaxing for you personally without being to critical towards yourself. If someone tells you journaling is relaxing it doesn't mean it has to be for you. Take your time and take notes whenever you are doing something that lightens your mood. If sitting on a bench and watching people is your way of relaxation suit yourself. Do not choose activites only by the appeal towards your desired aesthetic.

» stay true to yourself

Stay true to yourself and don't neglect your own personality. Self improvement is not about becoming a better version of yourself, it's about finding and refecting yourself in this abyss of modern society. Please be kind towards yourself and do not misconstrue self improvement as perfection, because that's definitely not the same. Considering self improvement as a life lesson and experience is a way healthier approach.

» resting ≠ sinning

Having a long and extended nap, as a treat. Binge watching your current favorite tv show, as a treat. Have a cheat meal, as a treat. Go on a spa day, as a treat - you get the point. Please consider that habits are only healthy if they are in balance. Don't restrict and torture yourself if you feel the need to rest. Professional athletes know, that without resting there is no rising.

» It's ok not to be okay, but it's not okay to stay that way

We all have our past, we all have our skeletons. Previous experiences that shaped our personality are like pieces of clothing that are not fitting anymore but you're afraid to throw them away because of the emotional bond. Fun fact, if your warderobe is full, ypu don't have enough room for new garments. If you cannot let go it's time to clean out your clothes. I'm recommending you to seek professional help through a therapist if your past seems overwhelming or if your feeling mentally unease.

» the sixth sense of relaxing

focus on your senses before or after they are stimulated for a long amount of time by letting them relax. Try sensory exercises (for example breathing exercises), focus on something tacticle with your hands, catch the sunrise/sunset, go into a tea shop and smell the herbs, do yoga, drink water, take a bubble bath, listen to asmr or a new album. Whatever is stimulating your senses in a positive way helps to reduce stress.

Bisous!

[marigoldwriter]

NOBODY ASKED, BUT I DID IT!

Incorrect quotes from Descendants! Specifically with characters from my fanfic!! (read here)

—-–—‐–—‐–—‐–——-–—‐–—‐–—‐–—

Letty: I don’t care what anyone thinks about me.

Corwin: Ok.

Letty: Wait, why such a muted reaction? Did that not sound cool?

(I saw someone doing this with Red and all I could think of was Letty, like mother like daughter)

—-–—‐–—‐–—‐–——-–—‐–—‐–—‐–—

Murderer: Any last words?

Cherise: Do you think I'm cute? Be honest.

(little by little they will understand that she isn't afraid of death, not even a little bit)

—-–—‐–—‐–—‐–——-–—‐–—‐–—‐–—

Micah, looking at the Hearts's children: Okay, so I need to become a therapist faster.

(it's a spoiler, yes, but no one will understand)

—-–—‐–—‐–—‐–——-–—‐–—‐–—‐–—

Manon: Just be yourself. Say something nice to her.

Letty: Which one? I can't do both.

(I should put Letty as red, she's so her mother)

—-–—‐–—‐–—‐–——-–—‐–—‐–—‐–—

Corwin: Do you have a self-care routine?

Rosa: "Keep going bitch" said to myself in different accents.

(In Riddles, French, Spanish, and a british accent, to be precise)

—-–—‐–—‐–—‐–——-–—‐–—‐–—‐–—

Arley, about Letty: She’s speaking some kind of French.

Rosa: Let me handle it. I speak Spanish. It's the same thing.

(Nobody knows who Arley is, but I'm going to put her here anyway. And this is very canon)

—-–—‐–—‐–—‐–——-–—‐–—‐–—‐–—

Letty, to Eva: If you see Corwin, give him this message *makes a neutral face*.

Letty: He'll know what it means.

*Later*

Eva: oh, and Letty said to give you a message.

Eva: *makes a neutral face*

Corwin: Oh no. The neutral face of displeasure.

(NOBODY KNOWS WHO EVA IS BUT— yeah, you'll understand)

—-–—‐–—‐–—‐–——-–—‐–—‐–—‐–—

Montreal: If we don’t get out of this alive… If we’re both about to die… I love you, Letty!

*Neither of them die*

Letty: …

Montreal: …

Montreal: So do you wanna talk about somethi-

Letty: No thanks.

(Spoiler, maybe, but that would happen. AND YOU WILL KNOW SOON WHO MONTREAL IS)

—-–—‐–—‐–—‐–——-–—‐–—‐–—‐–—

Cherise: I wasn't hurt that badly. The doctor said all my bleeding was internal, that's where the blood's supposed to be!

(Dearest, you've been like this since you were ten, please, you'll break another bone if you stay like this)

—-–—‐–—‐–—‐–——-–—‐–—‐–—‐–—

Mal: While I’m gone, you’re in charge, baby dragon.

Micah: Yes!!!

Mal, whispering: You’re secretly in charge, little dragon.

Manon: Obviously.

(THERE’S NO OTHER COLOR FOR THEM OTHER THAN PURPLE. I'll do this to Hearts family if I do this again)

—-–—‐–—‐–—‐–——-–—‐–—‐–—‐–—

Red: In your opinion, what’s the height of stupidity?

Letty: *looking at Chloe out of the corner of her eye* How tall is she?

(this will probably happen, at some point, out of sight of the readers)

—-–—‐–—‐–—‐–——-–—‐–—‐–—‐–—

Eva, banging on the door: Letty! Open up!

Letty: Well, it all started when I was a kid...

Micah: No, she meant-

Corwim: Let she finish. I'll be next.

(it would be funny if they didn't really need therapy)

—-–—‐–—‐–—‐–——-–—‐–—‐–—‐–—

Cherise: *Gently taps table*

Rosa: *Taps back*

Corwin: What are they doing?

Letty: Morse code.

Rosa: *Aggressively taps table*

Cherise: *Slams hands down* YOU TAKE THAT BACK-

(They were arguing about who won the card game last time)

—-–—‐–—‐–—‐–——-–—‐–—‐–—‐–—

That's it! I was really inspired by @ronance4everbrainrot to make this post, I just wanted to have some level of interaction about my fanfic and for it to be fun.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Zhihn moya -Oneshot

**I’m pulling some inspiration from a previous short story/long oneshot I wrote before.  Hope you like it!** *zhihn moya: my life Word count: 4471

Y/N first met Bucky after he’d returned to the States to join the Avengers.  He’d been rehabilitated in Wakanda, officially freed from the Winter Soldier programming.  The trigger words no longer worked.  Overall he was fine, but sometimes he wasn’t.

The nightmares never ceased, they were just…quieter now.  And sometimes he would lose track of where he was, who he was with, and have bouts of memory lapses, like he was on autopilot.  It didn’t really affect his work with the Avengers, but after a mission where he’d gone too far in capturing a bad guy, almost killing him, Sam knew he needed more help than the government-assigned therapist with a bad attitude could give.

With Fury’s help they had found a woman who had been found during an old Hydra base raid.  Y/N Y/L/N was born with the ability to read and manipulate thoughts and feelings in others, had been found by Hydra and then experimented on to see how far they could push or use her abilities.  The experiments had made her abilities stronger, and once she was found she had been rehabilitated and gone through years of therapy.  Fury figured that with a shared past with Hydra, she would be helpful in not only understanding and relating to Bucky, but her abilities could help ground him back to reality.

Bucky was hesitant when he first met her.  “I don’t need another person in my head,” he said gruffly.

“She won’t be in your head, Barnes, just helping you snap out of these lapses you’ve been having,” Fury said.  

“That’s not the point,” Bucky sighed.  He looked at Y/N.  “I’m sure you’re great.  But nobody needs to see what’s going on in my mind.”

“She was taken by Hydra, too, Buck,” Sam interjected.  “She knows what it’s like to be–”

“I can speak for myself,” Y/N said loudly.  They all looked at her in surprise.  “If you don’t want my help then I’ll leave.  I won’t waste my time fighting someone who doesn’t want or think they need me.”

“No, wait, please,” Sam said, raising his hands and then turning to Bucky.  “Can you just try meeting with her once?  For my peace of mind?  Please?”

Bucky stared at Sam for a moment, then sighed heavily and closed his eyes.  “Fine,” he said, then looked at her sharply.  “You won’t like what you see.”

“I’ve seen a lot, Sergeant Barnes,” Y/N said, her chin rising in challenge at him.  “You won’t surprise me.”

Bucky huffed a bitter laugh at her.  “You say that now.”

A week later they were in the room she was given to stay at the compound.  Y/N was sitting criss-cross on a large, comfortable chair across from Bucky who sat on a long couch.  He looked her over, analyzing and scrutinizing.  She was pretty, her curvy body reminding him of the old pin-ups that were actually curvy from his army days, not the ones the other men usually liked, even while she was covered by a comfortable sweater and sweatpant outfit.  They stared at each other for a moment, silently daring one another to speak first.  She analyzed him back, her head tilting as she watched him.  “You’re feeling a lot of things right now,” she said quietly.

“Get out of my head,” Bucky snarled.

“I’m not in your head,” Y/N sneered back.  “Feelings are just loud.”

He frowned.  “What does that mean?”

Y/N settled back into her chair, leaning her head on her hand propped up on the arm rest.  “Reading minds takes effort and focus for me.  Always has, even after Hydra experimented on me.  But feelings, emotions, they’re like…” She paused, frowning as her eyes searched the room in thought.  “Vibes, literally vibrating off people’s bodies.”

“Okay, then what am I feeling?” Bucky asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“Anxiety,” Y/N replied easily.  “Worry.  Fear.  Curiosity.  Sadness.  Anger.  And…missing someone,” she said, her face softening.

Bucky’s lips tightened.  “They said you could manipulate emotions, too.”  She nodded.  “Why would you do that?” he asked.  “How would that help me?”

Y/N smirked.  “It would be easier for me to show you than tell you.”

Bucky immediately tensed.  “What are you going to do?”

Y/N sighed.  “Relax, Bucky, it’s nothing crazy or painful.  All I need to do is touch you.  Do I have your permission to touch you?”

Bucky scrutinized her, watching her face carefully for signs of trickery or lies.  “Touch me where?”  

“Preferably your chest, just over your heart,” Y/N said, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward in her chair.  “But anywhere works.”

Bucky’s anxiety spiked.  He was much more open to touching people now, but was hesitant over what she was capable of.  He nodded and she stood up, walking over to him, then surprised him by kneeling down in front of him between his legs.  His eyes widened at how close she was, his jaw ticking as he swallowed harshly, trying to keep his panic at bay.  “Relax, Bucky,” Y/N said, her voice sounding much more soft and caring than earlier.  “I won’t read your mind.  All I’m going to do is put my hand on your chest.  You don’t need to do anything but relax.  Okay?”

Bucky tried to steady his breathing, nodding as his hands clenched on top of his knees.  Y/N gave him a reassuring smile, then slowly lifted her left hand toward his chest.  He watched her, his eyes flicking from her face to her hand repeatedly.  When her palm settled over his heart he tensed again.  “I won’t hurt you,” Y/N whispered.  His eyes focused back on her face.  Her eyes were kind, soft, and she was looking at him like she could see right through him, being able to read him without even trying.  Sam and Fury had said she had been used by Hydra, just like him, that she understood.  He blinked rapidly and nodded again.

Her hand pressed into his chest a little more firmly, and after a moment of silence Bucky felt a strange sensation.  He looked down and saw her palm glowing, and he gasped as he felt a warmth spread where her hand laid on his chest.  It felt like honey, oozing through his skin slowly and then seeping into his veins, firing synapses along its path.  It enveloped him, almost tingling when it reached the top of his head.  Bucky sighed heavily, his head hanging down, his hands unclenching.  The worry, fear, anger, all the things she had said he was feeling all slipped away from his mind and his heart, the anxiety being replaced by the warmth.  It felt like…peace.  Calm.  It felt like the first time he’d been able to relax after overcoming the Winter Soldier programming.  Like the times he and Steve had been laughing at baseball games.  It felt like she was injecting him with the opposite of all the emotions he felt before.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, but after a little while the feeling began to recede just as slowly as it had come.  When the warmth returned to under her palm and the glow fizzled out it was like he woke up, his eyes snapping open and seeing her again.  Y/N was crying, and it took him a second to realize he was crying, too.  He also didn’t realize that his metal hand was holding her hand to his chest still.  “I’m so sorry for all that they put you through,” she whispered, her hand turning over in his metal one and holding it against his chest.  “So much pain.  You didn’t deserve that.  But I need you to hear me when I say this, okay?”  Bucky absentmindedly nodded as she stood up on her knees to be at eye level with him.  “No human being could have withstood all you have,” she said quietly, her free hand moving up and wiping away his tears.  “You are stronger than you know, Bucky, in mind, body and spirit.  I can feel it,” she tapped her fingers against his chest.  “Your mind will be in a state of healing for the rest of your life.  But your friends, your chosen family, will always be there to pick up where your mind leaves off.  And I…I will be there for you, if you let me.”

Bucky stared at her in amazement.  He sniffed and swallowed harshly, nodding at her hopefully.  Maybe she would be able to help pull him out of his head when he got lost on missions.  She smiled at him, and he had a feeling that she would very quickly become his favorite person.

***

“Miss Y/L/N, an urgent call incoming for you from Sam Wilson,” Friday’s voice chimed overhead.

Y/N frowned and looked up at the ceiling.  “Answer,” she instructed, and listened as the phone line opened up to frantic breathing.  “Sam?” she called out.

“Y/N!  Thank god,” Sam panted.  “Something’s wrong with Buck.”

Her eyes widened.  “What happened?”

“I don’t know!” he said, sounding like he was exhausted.  “We were almost done and then he just…shut down.  He looks like,” he paused, and she could hear him audibly gulp.  “He looks like the Winter Soldier.”

She gasped.  “Has he done anything?”

“No, he’s just standing there, with that staring problem,” he said.  “So far he’s done as we asked, but if anyone gets close to him he reacts defensively.  Forcefully pushing us away.  It’s like he’s waiting for something.”

“Are you almost here?” Y/N asked, getting up and pacing her room as she thought through a plan of action.

“10 minutes away,” he replied.

“Okay.  When you land, let him get off first, and follow him to see where he goes.  Then we can figure out what to do next based on what it is his subconscious mind is directing him to do,” she said firmly.

“Okay,” Sam said, sounding appreciative that at least somebody had an idea of what to do.  “We’ll see you soon.”

“Good luck,” Y/N said.  She tried to calm herself.  Panicking would do nothing to help fix the situation.  They had come a long way over the past year since she’d come to the compound to help Bucky with his mind issues.  But every once in a while there was a hiccup like today.  They would all have to tread carefully to find the best way to help him through this episode.  He would be kicked off missions again for a while, she thought, which he would love and hate at the same time.

Ten minutes later she got a text from Sam.

Just landed.  He’s on the move.

She waited, sending him a thumbs up emoji.  

Heading to the personal rooms.

She tried to even her breathing.

Passed his door, I think we’re coming to you?

Y/N frowned at the text, then a few seconds later heard a knock on her door.  She looked at her door in shock, slowly walking over and unlocking it.  She opened the door and peeked around it to find Bucky standing there, ramrod straight with a frown on his face.  But his expression didn’t meet his eyes.  They looked empty, devoid of emotion.  This wasn’t Bucky.

“Bucky?” she whispered.

He didn’t respond.  “We’ve had to use the word ‘Soldat’ to get him to respond,” Sam said quietly behind him, looking ashamed at even having to say it.

She nodded and looked up at him.  “Soldat?” she asked.  His eyes looked down at her, the only part of him that was moving other than his chest as he breathed.  “Mission complete,” she said, unsure of how to proceed.  

He still didn’t move, just watched her intently, before his lips parted.  “Zhihn moya,” he murmured with a slight nod. Joaquin took a step forward.  “Maybe if we get a Russian speaker–”

Bucky whipped around, punching Joaquin in the stomach with his flesh hand, sending him flying back into the wall opposite Y/N’s door.  Sam raised a taser at Bucky while Bucky backed up and covered Y/N with his body, his metal arm protectively holding her behind him.  She gasped at everything happening so fast, her hands reactively holding onto his metal arm.  “Soldat!” she cried out, and he barely turned his head, glancing at her before glaring back at Sam.  “It’s okay,” she said, reaching one of her hands up to his shoulder, trying to pull him away.  “They’re your partners.  They aren’t here to hurt you, or me.”  She looked at Sam who sighed then reluctantly holstered the taser.  

“I think you’re his new mission, Y/N,” Sam said, turning back and checking on Joaquin, who had the wind knocked out of him.  “He’s not gonna hurt you.  But if something happens you tell Friday and we’ll come running.  Use your abilities on him.  Wake him up.”

She nodded, pulling Bucky back another step.  She and Sam exchanged a knowing look before she closed the door, enclosing her in with the Winter Soldier.  Bucky’s stance didn’t let up at first, until he could hear Sam and Joaquin move away from beyond the door.  After a few minutes he stood straight again, turning and looking at her.  His dead eyes scared her, and she tried to think of what to do next.  He seemed very protective of her, so she decided to play into that.

“Thank you for protecting me,” she said quietly.  “Your mission is complete now.”  He didn’t respond, just staring at her.  She was normally able to feel his emotions easily, but now it was just…silent.  She had never come across someone who felt literally nothing.  Y/N took a deep breath and took a step toward him.  He watched her as she took another step, then reached a hand up toward his face.  She went slowly, not wanting to spook him, and when her hand cupped his cheek he merely blinked.  Confusion rolled off of him in waves, and she felt a little comfort at finally feeling something from him.  “Would you like to sit down?” she asked, her other hand gesturing to her bed.

He frowned, more confusion bristling under the surface.  His eyes snapped to the bed then back to her.  Y/N frowned then remembered, sighing heavily.  “Sit down on the bed,” she instructed.  His frown relaxed and he immediately walked over to her bed and sat on the end of it, waiting for her next instruction.  Y/N rubbed her face tiredly.  This was gonna take a while.  She turned to face him, looking him over for any injuries from the mission.  She couldn’t see anything, and took a step toward him.  “Take off your tactical suit,” she said firmly.  

Bucky started unbuckling and unzipping everything, focusing on the task until he was able to strip it off and set it down on the floor, leaving him in a black undershirt and his pants before looking up at her again.  She slowly approached until she was standing right in front of him.  His confusion came back mixed with a hesitation that made her heart break.  She kneeled in front of him like that first day when she had worked with him, then looked up at him.  “I’m going to touch your chest,” she said in forewarning.  He didn’t react, but she could feel his heart rate spike, the hesitation getting worse.  She slowly raised her right hand and set it over his heart, his chest slightly flinching at her touch.  She swallowed harshly then let her power flow through her hand.  She could feel his panic as his eyes flaked down to her hand and back at her face in alarm.  She gave him a small, reassuring smile.  The power flicked its way over his body, his eyelids fluttering as it relaxed him.  A small flicker of something in his eyes gave her hope.  It looked like recognition, and his frown returned as he stared at her, his left eye slightly twitching as his mind worked to try and figure out what was going on.

Y/N sat up on her knees, her left hand reaching up toward his face.  “Feel, Soldat,” she instructed him.  Her left thumb settled on the spot between his eyebrows, her left index finger on his temple as her other fingers and hand settled on his face.  Both those fingers started to glow like her palm, and they both gasped as her power injected itself into his mind.  Y/N closed her eyes and searched through his head for Bucky.  It felt like she was clawing through old memories, haunting images of blood, pain and death intermingling with old days with Steve, Wakanda, Sam and her face popping up more often.  She couldn’t help but smile as she dug through until she came across, at the center the spider web of synapses, the huddled body of Bucky, shivering and crying as his one arm covered his head, his left metal arm missing.

“Bucky,” she called out to him.

He froze, slowly raising his head until he could see her, his eyes wide as he choked back a sob.  “Y/N?”

“Yeah,” she said, crawling toward him.  There was a strange pull at her ankles, like something was trying to keep her away from him.  She reached her hand out.  “Come back to me, Buck.”

Bucky crawled to her, losing his balance with only one arm, reaching his hand out.  “I don’t know why I’m here.  I don’t know how he pushed me back.”

“You did nothing wrong,” Y/N said, her fingers barely skimming his fingertips.  “We’ll figure it out together.  But first you have to come back to yourself.  Come back to me.”

The thing at her ankles tried to pull her back more harshly, and she had to concentrate her power more and push forward, kicking at whatever it was.  Bucky gritted his teeth, his fingers gripping her more firmly.  With a big burst of energy, Y/N used both her hands to pull his hand, and he flew up toward her.  She embraced him, wrapping her arms and legs around him.  What felt like a pull in her gut sent them both whooshing back to the present until she gasped and opened her eyes just as Bucky did the same.  Her hands were still where they’d been when she entered his mind, but now Bucky’s body looked sweaty, his face red with effort.  His wide eyes stared at her, his panted breaths fanning her face.  His metal hand was holding her right hand over his heart again, his flesh hand gripping her wrist near his face tightly.

“Y/N?” he rasped.

“Yes, it’s me,” she nodded, her hand on his face moving to cup his cheek comfortingly.  “You’re back.  It’s okay, I’ve got you.”  His eyes flicked back and forth between hers for a moment, like he couldn’t quite believe it.  The hand holding her wrist let go and shakily reached toward her face.  She let go of his face and moved that hand to cup her cheek, nuzzling her face into his palm.  “You’re here.  I’m here.  You came back to me.”

Bucky’s face fell, and he broke down crying.  He fell off the bed and kneeled with her, hugging her close to him with his arms around her waist, his face nestled into the crook of her neck.  Y/N held him, twisting her body so that she was leaning against the end of the bed while sitting on the floor, making him sit with her like she was cradling him.  His legs curled up tight at her side as he held her, crying hard against her shoulder as his hands fisted her shirt at her back.  “I thought I had gotten rid of him,” he sobbed.  “Why is this happening to me?”

Y/N felt herself crying with him, turning her head to kiss the side of his head.  “I don’t know Buck,” she replied quietly.  “But we’re going to figure it out together, like I said.  I promise.  No matter how long it takes.  You will heal.”

He cried harder at her words, his tears dripping down her chest.  Y/N continued to hold him, rocking back and forth as her fingers ran through his hair.  She started to hum a song from the 40’s she had heard him listen to repeatedly.  She didn’t know how long they stayed there, but she wasn’t moving anytime soon.

“Miss Y/L/N, Sam Wilson would like a progress report.”

Bucky flinched at Friday’s voice interrupting their moment, and Y/N sighed before looking up at the ceiling.  “Just tell him Bucky’s back and I’ll talk to him later.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Bucky sighed, reluctantly pulling away from her.  “I’m sorry,” he said, sniffing and wiping his face as he got off of her.  “I’m sorry for all this.  I’ll go, I just–”

“Don’t,” Y/N said quickly, taking his hand.  “You can stay here as long as you like.”  His jaw ticked, his eyes filling with tears once again as he peered up at her.  “What you just went through was traumatic.  No one expects you to just shrug it off and go on with business as usual.  Stay,” she urged, squeezing his hand.  “Rest.”

Bucky blinked rapidly, more tears falling as he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers.  “Thank you,” he mumbled.

***

Later that night after Y/N had made sure Bucky was fed and showered before settling into her bed, she held him against her chest as he started to fall asleep.  He kept jerking awake, afraid of slipping back into the Winter Soldier, but she kept reassuring him she would be able to feel it if it happened and wake him up to help him out of it.  She mulled over the events of the day, coming up with a game plan of how to handle his treatment in the coming days.

“Bucky?” she whispered.

“Yeah?” 

“What does zhihn moya mean?”

He stiffened then looked up at her curiously.  “Why?”

“I heard it recently and was wondering what it meant,” she said, trying to play it off as a simple question.

He stared at her, his eyes softening.  “My life.”

Y/N inhaled shakily then nodded.  “That’s beautiful.”  She broke eye contact with him and moved his head back to settle against her chest.  She didn’t need to talk about that with him right now.  She contemplated what that meant.  He had recognized her even within Winter Soldier mode, and something within even the emotionless husk in his brain told him that she was something special that needed to be protected.  “My life,” she thought, a small smile spreading on her face.  

***

Bucky woke the next morning against the comfiest pillow he’d ever felt.  He snuggled further into it before realizing the pillow was moving…breathing.  His mind struggled to catch up to what was happening as he slightly pulled away and looked up to see Y/N, her face smooshed into her pillow as she breathed deeply through her mouth, her eyes moving behind her eyelids as she dreamed.  He smiled, taking a deep breath and burrowing back into her chest.  Her sleep dress had shifted in her sleep, revealing quite a lot of cleavage to him that he tried to ignore as his arms tightened around her.  He was still exhausted from the events of the day before, of which he was desperately trying not to think about.  He just wanted to be present, right here and now in this moment of calm and peace.

It was still dark out when he awoke, and he used the cover of darkness that most people wouldn’t be able to see in to look her over.  The sleep dress was hiked up to her hips, her legs tangled with his under the covers.  His metal arm felt from her lower back over her hip, hiking her leg up over his hip more comfortably.  As that hand moved back to her lower back, pulling her lower half closer to him, his face pressed against her chest, nuzzling her breasts until he could get comfortable.  At least, that was his reasoning behind him being a creep in the moment.  They had been close before, falling asleep in the same bed after she had helped him with hard days, but never like this.

Bucky was extremely appreciative of her saving him yesterday from the Winter Soldier.  As invasive as it had been for her to have to dig through his mind to rescue him, he couldn’t describe the elation he’d felt at seeing her face in the deepest, darkest recesses of his head.  He absentmindedly kissed the swell of each breast, his lips skimming over the skin of her sternum up to her throat.

Stop it, she wouldn’t want this.

She shifted against him, her breathing quickened and her hand in his hair scratching at his scalp.  Y/N hummed, holding his head against her neck.  “Buck?  Are you okay?”

He silently cursed himself for waking her up.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“No,” she said, clearing her throat before pulling away just enough to look at him.  “It’s okay.”

He shook his head and shut his eyes tight, unable to meet her kind eyes.  His hands tightened in her shirt.  “I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.”

She was quiet for a moment, then her hand moved from his head to his chin, pulling him up to look at her.  He didn’t dare open his eyes, afraid that he would see her disappointment in him.  Instead he felt her breath fan over his face, then the brush of her lips against his.  His eyes snapped open at that, his eyes flickering over her face, blinking rapidly.  “I can feel you,” she smirked at him.  “I like you, too.”  He let out the breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, a small smile pulling at his lips.  “Though I think we should take things slow,” she added with an arched eyebrow at him.

Bucky chuckled and nodded.  “You’re right, as always,” he agreed, nuzzling her nose with his.

“And don’t you forget it,” Y/N said, nuzzling him back.

“Never, zhihn moya,” he replied cheekily.

Her smirk softened to an adoring smile.  She dipped her head down and kissed his lips softly.  Bucky inhaled sharply as their lips finally met.  It felt so easy, all the pent up emotions and worry all for nothing.  He hummed as he kissed her back, deepening it as he angled his head slightly, but not pushing for too much more.  When she pulled away to look at him again she sighed happily.

“My life.”

[poxivix]

RULES FOR THIS ACCOUNT!!

(IMPORTANT, Especially to those who are wondering what my account is about or what I do)

Just wanted to put up some rules for this account INCASE you are at the wrong page. Some rules may relate to content that I HAVENT posted YET, but even so I still will put them up.

1] - No ages under 13 or 15. Due to this, my content may be either slightly suggestive, venty (I may vent/rant sometimes in the future, but they're not full on), body horror possibly, gorey and violent. Or! I tend to cuss/swear a lot aswell. Ofc, those who still wanna see me post can stay, but PLEASE, if you're uncomfortable with any of those topics, I suggest you unfollow, or if it makes you comfortable, block me so that you won't come across my posts again.

2] - Do NOT repost my videos/art without crediting me, ESPECIALLY if your intentions are stealing my work that IVE created. AND DO NOT TRACE, STEAL, ANY TYPE OF SHIT LIKE THAT! I love you all that appreciate my art, tysm, just plz don't go around stealing my stuff. This includes my ocs, possibly designs?? (if u think they're good enough lol), art dumps, and animations.

3] - I'd appreciate it if this account was drama free; arguing, harassment, spamming, racism, threats and homophobic topics. I don't wanna see any sort of such on my posts, asking box, or so on. One thing I also wanna say is that opinions are OBVIOUSLY welcome here, and I respect everyone for even having one. But PLEASE!! If your opinions have intentions on hurting others and possibly me, then I'd rather drench myself in oil and light my body on fire rather than seeing it. Respectfully, just please avoid PURPOSELY annoying ANYONE on this account, take your dramas away from me I'm not your therapist. AND PEOPLE!! On a side not, respect others opinions please, not everyone has to agree with you :(

4] - Please just let me do what I wanna do. This rule is probably the only rule I ATLEAST want you to follow: leave me be. Do not ask me to change my art style, do not tell me what I should and should not post, do not hate me for drawing things you don't feel appealed to, I do what keeps me sane. Suggestions such as improvement? I might not be comfortable with it, but no hate at all to those who just wanna give constructive criticism in a good way. I appreciate it a lot, but maybe my sensitive lil ahh won't be able to take it since yeah, I love how I draw cuz it's my own artstyle (Inspired by others ofc)

Feedback on my art is okay, but please base it around my hyperfixations. What I mean by that is if I just so happen to mischaracterize a specific character or something like that, you can inform me otherwise. But please be respectful about it instead of going like " [INSERT CHARACTER] DOESNT DO THAT!" or "Girl have you not watched the series/show or smt 💀", I'm not aware of my own actions sometimes 😞

5] - Don't ask me to be your friend when you've just so happened to cross my account. I've been a bit too nice in the past and just accepted random strangers friend requests w/o even getting to know them. But even so, those people turned out to be amazing. Please just don't ask me to be your friend either because I'm your idol or you just assume/ think im a cool person. Getting to know each other is WAY better so please, I'd appreciate it a lot🙏

And even if I still dont wanna be your friend, dont take it the wrong way please. It's either because I still don't feel comfortable, I don't feel like it, or I just don't want to in general. Please be respectful, thank you.

6] - I'm talking too much but please bare with me. NO PROSHIPS/PEDOS/FETISHISM PLZ!!

I dont think I even need to explain this even further, apart from DO NOT get ANY of my oc's/characters, or even ME, involved with your proshipping shit. OR EVEN BETTER, DO NOT DO ANY OF THE ABOVE AT ALL WHEN YOURE AROUND ME!! It's concerning, I'm uncomfortable with it, and I do not wish to be a part of any shit like that.

7] - Requests? They are accepted here! But please base the requests around my hyperfixations, they're the only motivation I got. And on my ocs? Definitely will do cuz yeah.

I dont take requests that involve drawing your ocs on command, drawing fandoms I'm not even in, and fetish art cuz why tf...

Call me a pussy for this but breaking any of these rules on this blog will get you an instant block, or maybe just a warning BEFORE I block you.

THATS ALL FORNOW!!

I might add some more rules depending on my experience here on Tumblr. These rules go for the same on my tiktok: lx_v_, and youtube: EL_EX_VEE

Thanks for wasting a bit of your time just to read this important note. It means a lot to me, more than you think it does. I'm currently physically, and possibly mentally, drained and exhausted from life. I'm holding on still, and I know for a fact I'm trying. Your love and support is something, you probably don't know about, that effects my perspective on everything, and that I shouldn't just give up yet. I just wanted to add this because I feel as if I'm not showing my appreciation enough. So overall love yous all, hope for the best in all of us, and just thank you in general 💙

[lowkeyrobin]

Hello! Could I please get a cricket crew (those who are okay with x reader Ofc) with a reader who’s really sad and just struggling mentally, and they end up comforting the reader? :)

yes of course!! tbh this is me atm lol (lh), thanks for the request!! hope you enjoy

HANDSOME BROS ; mental baggage

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, & badlinu

warnings ; language, talk about mental health and self harm

masterlist

[ here's a song I'm obsessed with atm that I listened to while making this ]

TOMMYINNIT

he sees right through you but he doesn't know how to bring it up

you end up having to like spam call him out of fear you might hurt yourself so he has the confirmation at least that he wasn't overthinking it

after that, he's a bit over the top with making sure you're okay and stuff but he genuinely cares and backs off if you need him too

he's wide open for hugs if you need them

he's not a perfect talker but he knows how to make you smile and he knows that he's built trust with you, and he'll spend hours just trying to get you to understand how much he loves you and that he'll always be here for you

he understands that you know he loves you, and you aren't gonna get better with that, but he knows deep down it helps you just a tiny bit to know that he cares and he'll spend an uncountable amount of hours telling you all that

he strikes me as a words of affirmation & quality time guy, so just enjoying your presence while you do things and loving you from far away is usual

like if you're just chilling in silence he'll occasionally look up at you to make sure you're alright

"You look great today, y/n/n, is that a new shirt?"

"are you djo? cause I'd love to listen to you- wait, no-"

"I need more cringey pickup lines, hold on.."

once he sees you obviously happier and healing, he just explodes like a firework

he's just happy cause you're even the slightest bit happier, he understands the lack of motivation and the deep bits and seeing you rise out of them is so inspiring to him

RANBOO

you're the one who instantly brought it up, you felt yourself sinking and knew you couldn't drown too far because you were worried you couldn't be helped this time

instantly just like hugs you and talks it out with you

he understands that your struggling and recommends taking a break and spending time on yourself and maybe talking to a therapist if you're comfortable with doing that, even offers to go with you

you do end up finding a therapist who can listen to you and try to help on top of ranboo

"Hey, have you eaten today? if not I'll order you some takeout"

"Oh my God, are those new pants? they look great on you!"

they found a glow squid plush at the store and immediately bought it for you, it had little glow in the dark bits on it as well. they smiled so wide seeing the way you smiled at them

frequently asks if they can do anything for you or if you need anything from them

they show you some new music to maybe get hooked on to maybe fixate you on something if you're lacking a fixation and feel a little lonely in your mind

they give me gift giving & words of affirmation vibes so

always making sure you're okay in a new/populated environment and will totally get you out if you need to leave

your feelings are his top priority

he's always open for you to talk to him, he encourages it even if you don't wanna talk about it in therapy

they're extremely supportive, and seeing you slowly come out of the hole you were sinking into makes them so proud

"dude, you're unbeatable, you're so strong and brave, and I'm so proud of you, kay?"

FREDDIE BADLINU

you try to mask up your sadness around him for a while, hoping itd go away and you'd be fine again

he came over to your place with your favorite takeout as a surprise, and found you trying to wipe away and hide your tears at your desk

"Oh, lovely, what's wrong?"

gives you the biggest, warmest hug while you rant and open up about your feelings to him

obviously, as much as he tries to help and as much as he'd like to, he can't make your problems vanish

he doesn't wanna overwhelm you so he doesn't pressure you to do anything and always asks if you're comfortable in an environment, and if you'd be okay in said environment

constantly asking if you need anything from him or if he can do anything for you

through the day/when he wakes up/before you go to bed, he sends you messages about how much he loves you and how much he appreciates you in his life

"Don't compare yourself to people you don't know, I like you more"

"If you ever feel like you might hurt yourself, just call me, okay? I'll be here for you in an instant, alright?"

runs you a warm bath anytime you complain of a minor headache or a migraine

over time, he notices your wardrobe go from dull and plain to colorful and creative again

literally so happy that he sees that you're feeling even just a little bit better

he's very mature when you need to talk to him about things and if you need help, he's not judging

he loves cooking you dinner, even if he isn't really a professional chef

he strikes me as an acts of service & gift giving type of guy so I think that explains that