#so im really having withdrawal it’s been like a week | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

iwasntstable · 3 months ago

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n.s. | if i'm there

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

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

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

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

word count: 3.8k.

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

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

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

　　　　　　　　　　　[Noah 💘]

　　　　　　　　　　　Tuesday 　　　　　　　　　　　10:45AM

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

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

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

　　　　　　　　　　　02:27PM

— Hey babe how are you feeling?

my head still hurts :( —

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

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

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

　　　　　　　　　　　10:09PM

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

　　　　　　　　　　Wednesday 　　　　　　　　　　　08:41AM

— Morning, how’re you feeling?

　　　　　　　　　　　09:13AM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

　　　　　　　　　　　10:26PM

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

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 10:31PM]

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

　　　　　　　　　　Thursday 　　　　　　　　　　　08:41AM

— Hey, are you awake?

　　　　　　　　　　　08:55AM

— Hello??

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 08:59AM]

— Message me when you wake up

　　　　　　　　　　　12:20PM

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

　　　　　　　　　　　12:46PM

— Babe please answer me

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 12:48PM]

　　　　　　　　　　　01:20PM

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

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

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

— Even me?

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

　　　　　　　　　　　Friday 　　　　　　　　　　　03:47PM

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

　　　　　　　　　　　04:10PM

— Babe please answer me

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 04:12PM]

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 04:15PM]

　　　　　　　　　　　04:18PM

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

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 04:23PM]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you been eating every day?”

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

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

“I know,” you confess.

“Please let me help you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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✉ C:/SYSTEM/APP/TAG

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

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msschemmenti · 1 month ago

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a change of plans ✈️

jj x reader

summary: reader and jj are long distance and they plan a visit

a/n: having literal jj withdrawals also i had a dream last week that i buried my face in her stomach in the most comforting snuggle ever.

“no i promise i will be back in time to pick you up. we’re wrapping up with the local pd right now and then we’re out of here within the next two hours.” jj spoke down the phone as she leaned against the conference table they’d all been using for the last week.

“babe, it’s really not that necessary. i can always just get a cab to take me to yours.” y/n replied browsing the menu on the airport coffee shop she’d found her way to after going through security.

“absolutely not. we don’t know anything about these cab drivers. do you wanna know how many cases have started just like that?” jj frowned.

“no thank you. you know how i feel about your cases.” y/n shook her head and waved a finger in the air like jj could see her.

“yeah yeah— that’s what im saying. you’ll just have to settle for me baby.” jj shrugged.

y/n smiled softly, “you’re far from settling honey. i just don’t wanna be an inconvenience is all.”

jj scoffed with an affectionate roll of her eyes, “you’re not being an inconvenience. we haven’t been in the same state for longer than a day in four months— id be offended if i wasn’t the person you saw when you land in dc. i promise i will be there and i’ve got lots of romancing planned for you.”

“romancing? whats on the agenda?”

“wouldn’t you like to know,” jj grinned. “it’s a surprise, we’ve got four months of phone dates to make up for.”

“i love our phone dates, even the occasional skype date.” y/n grinned in thanks at the barista handing her a coffee and muffin.

“i do too, but i think ill enjoy physically having you with me a bit more.”

“it is my favorite place to be.”

“damn straight, so it’s settled. i’ll be there waiting for you. no cabs or any of that, got it?” jj spoke firmly.

“yes ma’am.” y/n confirmed.

“good,” jj grinned before turning her attention to derek who was waving her toward the door. “okay, we’re heading out now. i’ll see you in a few hours?”

“absolutely, stay safe! i love you. like a lot.” y/n smiled softly.

“well i love you more. like a lot more.” jj grinned, falling in step with morgan.

“and i love you most. like the very most.” they said in unison with a laugh before hanging up.

“chatting up the missus?” morgan asked with a chuckle.

“oh yeah, she’s on her way here for a visit.”

“that’s great jj, how long has she been out there?”

“way too long, it’s been over a month since i’ve seen her. she’s trying for a transfer closer to dc so we’re hopeful but until then we just suffer for four months at a time.” jj blew some hair out of her face before ducking into the suv to head for the jet.

y/n was one of the last of the plane, carryon bag rolling behind her. as she rolled her way through the airport she fished her phone out to call jj to figure out if she was at the airport yet or not. focusing on her cellphone, she stepped on the escalator and descended to the baggage claim and exit area. reaching the last step she looked up and was very surprised to see jj leaning against a pillar.

“oh you were serious about romancing, huh?” y/n grinned walking over to her girlfriend. jj stood at her full height with a grin on her face. she was holding a piece of paper that she’d made into a sign and a bouquet of y/n’s favorite flowers.

“i’m a woman of my word!” jj shrugged and extended the flowers toward y/n.

y/n grabbed the flowers and pulled jj as close as she could without jostling her sign too much, “here to pick up the most beautiful girl in the world, hm?”

“yep, had to turn a few ladies away. they seemed to be confused.” jj bit her lip teasingly.

“you better have turned them away!” y/n grinned pushing a finger into jj’s chest.

“of course i did, i know who im here for. and boy am i glad she’s finally here.” jj grinned leaning her forehead against y/n’s longingly.

“im glad to be here.” y/n said nuzzling their noses together.

“well can i have a kiss now, ive only been going through withdrawals for what…four months?”

y/n rolled her eyes affectionately and wrapped her arms around jj’s neck pulling her in for a very long awaited kiss. when they both finally pulled away jj grabbed the carry-on and y/n’s free hand.

“let’s get out of here, i’ve got a thing or two we’ve just got to do tonight.” jj smirked over her shoulder, eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

“oh yes, the romancing.” y/n grinned, allowing jj to pull her toward her car.

they make it far past the couch. and as y/n watched jj pull a discarded t-shirt over her head she couldn’t think of any other place she’d rather be. jj made for the kitchen for water and when she came back she gazed down at y/n lovingly.

“god, i missed you so much.” she leant down to kiss her girlfriends dewy forehead. y/n’s smile couldn’t get any sweeter. smitten was an understatement. but anytime it came to jj— she was a clingy smitten lovesick puppy.

“if you missed me as much as you claim, you’d come snuggle with me.”

“but i’ve got more romancing planned. i was going to make us a really nice dinner. and there’s a few gifts i got you. and i think we can do some more of this— in the bedroom though…” jj listed. y/n nodded along to her words attentively but pulled jj down on the couch. jj continued to list her plans and y/n continued maneuvering jj’s body into their favorite cuddle position. once jj was perfectly wedged between the back of the couch, y/n buried her head into her stomach with a content sigh. jj’s hands unconsciously came to run through y/n’s hair and the younger woman snuggled closer to her girlfriend. jj’s words trailed off as she caught sight of just how relaxed her girlfriend was.

“maybe we can do all that stuff tomorrow, im kinda enjoying holding you.”

“mhmm, sounds good babe, im enjoying being held.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau #msschemmenti

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st7rnioioss · 8 months ago

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i have a kinda specific request? reader comes home from a really bad day at work and is exhausted and tense. she walks into matt’s room where he’s sitting against the headboard on his bed and sits in between his legs. his arms wrapped around her shoulders and just being all cuddly when he asks her about her day. he notices she needs a distraction or stress release so he reaches down to her front from behind her to pleasure her. but can you make it super slow, sensual, and passionate please??? like he really just takes his time with her, rubbing her thighs, kissing her neck and ears and dirty talks/praises her through it :)

౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆ "such a pretty girl"

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: kissing, swearing, fingering, no p in v, smut?, teasing, praise kink, dirty talk, not proofread!

a/n: hii, THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST. i love love love the idea, i had a lot of fun writing it.

sorry for inactivity, ive been really busy. ALSO, next week im going to Rome for a week due to school related stuff, so im so so sorry if that means veeery few posts next week.

I stumble into me and Matt’s shared apartment. Today had been rough. First, one of my colleagues became sick, so I had to take an extra shift. Then on top of that nothing but rude customers had entered.

I groan as I kick off my shoes, not in the mood for anything but to lay down next to my boyfriend.

“Matt, are you home?” I yelled as I walked to the kitchen for a glass of water. There was silence for a second until I heard shuffling footsteps behind me.

“Yup, I’m right here. Are you alright?” Matt asked, wrapping his arms around me as he placed a gentle kiss on my cheek. I turn around to face him, literally on the verge of tears.

“No..” I whisper, my voice breaking as I basically fall into his embrace. Matt doesn’t say anything, instead he just holds me, caressing the top of my head as well as placing a few soft kisses.

After a second he takes my hand and drags me to our room, closing the door behind us.

“Tell me what’s wrong, please,” he whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed with my standing between his legs.

“It’s just- First, Caroline didn’t show up because she’s sick, so I had to work another shift, and then- then the rest of the day it was only rude customers who came in. I just- It’s..” I mumble between sobs, Matt cutting me off with a pat on his thigh. Without realizing it, he was now sitting against the headboard, his legs spread for me to sit between them.

Slowly, I make my way up to him, his hands reaching out for my waist. Securely he places his arms around my torso, pulling me closer to him.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m here,” Matt calms me down, letting my fingers softly caress his forearms around my waist. I shuffle a little, relaxing my head against his shoulder.

“It’s just so frustrating when customers don't even say a simple thank you, you know? Like- I.. I-” I try to finish my sentence, but Matt starts leaving small pecks behind my ear and neck.

To answer, he just hummed against my skin making my thighs clench.

“Fuck..” I whisper, closing my eyes in pleasure. Matt’s hand slowly traced down my chest and stomach, gently lifting my shirt to allow his fingers to reach the button of my jeans.

“Let me help you destress a little. You’re tense..” he mumbles against my skin, making sure to leave red marks that would for sure turn purple later. With an approving nod from me, his fingers smoothly unbutton my jeans, tapping my hips to signal for me to lift them for him to slide them down my legs.

My jeans are left by my ankles, his index finger running over the soft cotton of my panties, leaving it by my clothed entrance.

“Already soaked for me, huh?” Matt whispers into my ear, continuously kissing my neck without batting an eye on my lower half.

“Matt..” I moan quietly as he withdraws his finger, teasingly rubbing the inside of my thighs.

“Shh. Patience, baby. You deserve to be taken care of, right?” Matt murmurs, his hands running along the outside of my thighs, squeezing every now and then.

“I- I guess so..” I mutter, tilting my head to the side to allow Matt to continue his kisses, now with more room to.

“I dunno why the customers were so rude to you. Such a pretty girl like you..” he continued his praise, now running his fingers along the inside of my thighs, going up and down slowly, but sensually.

Impatiently I squirm a little against him, needing direct contact.

With one hand, he pressed my hip against the bed to stop me from moving too much.

“Princess, you gotta stay still for me, okay?” Matt mutters, now withdrawing his soft lips from my skin, averting his gaze to my thighs and hips, whispering a quiet ‘so gorgeous’.

I writher a little again, feeling his intense stare on my body whilst his hands caress and massage my legs and thighs.

I turned my head to the mirror that was hanging on my closet next to the bed, noticing all the marks Matt had left, from behind my ear to the point where my neck joins my collarbone.

“Matt, how on earth do you plan for me to cover those up?” I chuckle, letting my fingers slowly trace the red and purple spots along my neck.

He looked up at me, our noses almost touching, then proceeding to look down on my throat.

“I don’t think you should,” Matt laughed, adding more small wet spots along my neck, receiving a quiet giggle from me.

Then finally, after what felt like an eternity, his hands traced lower and lower down my thighs, stopping when he reached the hem of my panties.

“Gonna behave?” Matt whispered, his tone filled with nothing but lust. He got just as much pleasure out of fingering me as I did.

I nodded frantically at his question, grabbing his forearms for support again.

Gently, he lifted the fabric covering my pussy, dragging it down my thighs, past my knees, to lay on top of my jeans around my ankles.

He carefully added his middle finger to my clit, rubbing it for a second, before slowly tracing down, stopping at my entrance.

While he did all this, I tried my best to suppress any moans that threatened to leave my mouth by biting down on my lower lip, the metallic taste of blood just an instant away.

“Oh fuck..” I whispered as he slowly pushed his finger forward, entering me at a frustrating slow pace.

I tried my best to hold back the need to take my own hand on top of his to push it further, but before I could decide, his middle finger was knuckles deep inside me.

“Feels good?” he murmured, steadily extracting his finger before pushing it back in. I nod feverishly, a quiet whimper eliciting from my lips.

“I’m gonna need words, sweetheart.” he said sternly, picking his pace up, silence filling the room besides heavy, ragged breaths and the squelching noise from my wet pussy.

"Y-yeah.. It feels so good-” I moan shakily, shutting my eyes as he adds his index finger. He chuckles a little at my reaction, picking up his pace.

“Good. You deserve it,” he kisses my cheek, curling his fingers languidly, nuzzling his face back in my neck like earlier.

He keeps going, and as I instinctively clench around his fingers, he adds his other middle finger to rub my clit in slow, lazy circles.

“Holy fuck, Matt!” I moan, much louder this time, my eyes lazily opening. My hands grip on the sheets, knuckles turning white at an instant.

“You’re so tight around my fingers.. So wet, all f’me..” Matt chuckles humorlessly, continuing his kisses up my jawline and cheek.

I feel myself approaching my orgasm, clenching around his fingers repeatedly as his pace on my clit speeds up.

“Matt. I’m gonna cum..” I whimper, arching my back as his pace inside me also picks up. I can hardly finish my sentence properly, moaning and whining his name.

“Come on, you can hold it a little longer, can’t you?” he groans, intentionally picking up his pace, just for me to beg and writher even more.

“Ple- please, Matt. ‘Feels too good..” moan after moan leaves my lips, my hips lifting off the mattress. Nothing but a chuckle is heard from Matt, slowing his pace, just a little, to intentionally make my orgasm diminish, before picking it up again, going even faster than before.

“Oh god, I’m gonna cum. I- I can’t hold it..” I whimper, coming around his fingers with a loud moan of his name, taking shaky, ragged pants.

“Shh, just like that. You did so well for me,” Matt smiles as he withdraws his fingers inside me, still lazily circling his fingers on my clit to draw out my orgasm as far as possible.

“Shit… You’re amazing,” I giggle, kissing his cheek as he removes his fingers completely from my entrance.

“Anything for my girl,” he smiles back, giving me a fat kiss on the lips, grabbing my waist again to throw me on the side of him, to lay next to me.

“I’m gonna tell you every time I feel slightly stressed if this is how you handle it,” I smile, running a hand through his hair, making it messy.

Matt slowly removes my pants from my ankles, dragging my panties back up.

“Wow, okay. You didn’t say that when I made you a cup of tea and watched your favorite movie with you,” he laughs, faking an offended expression and he comes back down to lay beside me.

“Alright, I really enjoyed that as well. I love you so much, Matt,” I kiss his cheek, making his cheeks flush.

He looks up at me with a childish smile, kissing my cheek and forehead multiple times, while mumbling ‘i love you more’ against my skin, over and over.

a/n: alright, i TRIED to make it realllyyy slow and intimate. i hope i succeeded. THANK YOU for the request <333

also, im working on some requests, since i got a LOT!! thank you🤍

taglist: @chrissgirlsstuff @leah-loves-lillies @toriinie @cupidzsq @lacysturniolo @iluvmattyb @ratatioulle @emma4eva @riasturns @sstvrnioloo @sweetbabydoe @elliewrites1 @its-jennarose @abbypost @chrisstopherfilmed @sturniolossss @ducksturniolo @junnniiieee07 @klaus223492 @urfavvev3lyn @vschrissturn @cicimayx @keerahsturn @sturniolololover @domaniquessidehoe @sturniolossss @orangelala @sturnioloslvtt@gwenloremain@k-l-a-w-s @pearlzier @pjmpcyy

go to my taglist to be added!

#inbox ˙ . ꒷ 🪽#🐇་༘࿐ works #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets

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hatkuu · 1 year ago

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poly relationship with kylar and corrupt sydney. just imagine

THANK YOU FOR GRACING ME WITH THIS GORGEOUS THOUGHT!@!!!!! (m! kylar and m! sydney below!!) (gen! reader)

oh my gawsh. guys im actually really embarrassed to admit this but i've never done the christmas play event!>!?!?! (like, i still know the gist of it through screenshots and i know that they're FIGHTING constantly... and KISSING???!?!? i LOVE.)

- being smushed in the midst of a sydney-kylar sandwich is... messy. to say the least. on one slice of bread; you have a gorgeous, loving boyfriend that you've corrupted and turned into an absolute SEX FIEND - and on the other slice; you have ANOTHER gorgeous, loving boyfriend with a jealous streak who would do anything for you. including getting into a poly relationship with his ex-bestfriend...

- i think the polycule will be fairly awkward for the first few weeks... sydney will be teasing kylar and flirting with him while kylar is DISGUSTED because the only reason he did this was for you and not this whore—

- but then sydney would start being sweet to kylar like how he's sweet with you... and kylar will still be grovelling and getting all huffy... but (and he would NEVER utter this to anyone maybe you) sydney isn't that bad...

- then it slowly develops into kylar having a shared obession for the both of you and corrupt sydney downright ENCOURAGING IT (you can imagine how feral the sex is)

- being between your two boyfriends in the cafeteria is definitely chaotic. you're getting your face wiped at by sydney while kylar pets your hair - you're so overwhelmed from all the touching but it feels so good.

guys ill elaborate further on the cute stuff but. BUT IMAGINE YANDERE CORRUPT SYDNEY AND HYSTERICAL KYLAR COMING TOGETHER TO STEAL YOU AWAY???? (yandere behaviour, alluded kidnapping, gen! reader)

It's too much - juggling two possessive boyfriends who never leave you alone - you don't have any breathing room, and not even the private sanctity of your bedroom is left untainted.

So you ran.

You don't go to school anymore.

You don't even look at Danube street because the risk factor is simply way too high.

But you knew - even if you willed it away with clasped hands crouching at the foot of your bed - that your cowardice would inevitably catch up to you.

"You've been ignoring us,"

Your bedroom door is quickly slammed behind you by a much taller, forboding figure. His closed fist rests heavy against the door frame, long dark hair spilling over his shoulders. You're tugged forward into the figure's chest, and you can feel them shakily inhale your scent - like they've been having withdrawals from your absence. Sydney.

"Why— Why are you in my room—"

Sydney laughs breathily, his hand falling from the door to cup the plush flesh of your cheek. His thumb rubs just underneath your eye, cooing as you flinch at each calculated movement.

"I got some help..."

Sydney trails off, and you gasp as another set of much smaller hands place themselves on your waist. You feel the familiar texture of scratchy, split end hairs against the crux of your neck and shoulder. The hands eagerly squeeze at your clothed flesh, unintelligible murmurings following each excited touch. You know these hands. Kylar.

Kylar whines, pressing kisses that contain more tongue than lip against the sensitive skin of your neck.

"Y-You ignored us— Left us alone for weeks!"

Their shared grasp on you tightens uncomfortably as you struggle.

"G-Get out— I— I didn't invite either of you here—"

"Oh, we weren't asking for an invitation, dearest."

Sydney smiles down at you, all malice and sadistic cruelty.

"You should know what happens to bad spouses..."

One of Kylar's hands fall from your waist, fumbling around inside of his pocket until he sighs against you.

"Y-You won't ignore either of u-us again."

The tell-tale prick of a tranquilliser dart numbs any fear that you could have felt from the hushed words that slip from Kylar's lips.

#hatkuuasks #kylar the loner #sydney the fallen #dol #i dont like the ending :(#but you guys hopefully get the idea i was going for!!!#ask me about the yandere boyfriends PLEASE!!#kuuskylarposting

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boxheadpaint · 3 months ago

Text

juice induced hill depression. Back on meds again and hopefully going to get in touch with a new psych who can prescribe me something else. Have been very tired and unjoyful the past week but better now and playing modded Skyrim, initially just to make my oc in it but then just kept slamming more thangs in there. Mod that puts bunny rabbits everywhere. Also is there a mod that adds cute animal ears/suits as wearables or one that even makes the girl armor less sucks. Like im either fully leaning into the immersion breaking for self indulgence sake or im getting rid of the annoying shit.

visiting mom in Vegas earlier this month was nice except for the part where I hate Vegas. I know im not great with travel and settling into places can be a tough one for my brain but also my god it’s just evil there. Brilliantly so but still evil. I would have loved to enjoy the scenery surrounding the place more as deserts are just very beautiful and fascinating places but at no point during the day was the temperature less than a full hundred degrees Fahrenheit. It barely dropped during the night either. Between that and varying physical ailments (Oof Ouch My Digestive Sensitivities Lol) (Oof Ouch My Tendons Lol) (Oof Ouch The Agony Caused By Using Stairs Lol) it was the perfect conditions to be a miserable pile when I wanted to be with my family. As sad I was to part ways again I was not sorry to leave that place. Gained a new appreciation for changing up what I eat randomly to keep my body on its toes. At one point mom brought us to a pub and her husband asked for Diet Pepsi while I asked for regular Pepsi. Visually there’s no difference so we got handed the others pepsi and swapped. And then later after he refilled his Diet Pepsi another waiter came up and wordlessly refilled mine as well. With Diet Pepsi. Wasn’t even asked. Fucking stunned. Also went to a near dead mall that was nice anyway

stuck on brain zaps as a symptom of Specifically antidepressants withdrawal. There’s some things describing them as “mini seizures” in function. To me it’s like the body noticing the usual isn’t happening for some reason so it tries to jumpstart the brain into working good like before. universities I can go to with my theories. Back in and at it this week, hopefully to remain consistent for longer than before which will also likely help with the depression and anxiety. More people should just put stuff in their blood if they can

it can be embarrassing to express your misery more clearly to someone, specifying the fact fact thoughts running through your head. But then again it’s only embarrassing because your mind convinced you so, and will convince you that holding it in is also cruel and selfish. Finding it funny that animals probably don’t have as complex spirals and bouts of depression because they dont have a language to articulate to themselves in their own heads that something is awful in a very specific and contradicting way. Or actually no because there is still pattern recognition but that’s more a paranoia learned thing. Is there an animal that can randomly, for seemingly no reason evident to anyone including itself, experience crushing dread and self doubt. Is there an animal that feels shame besides man

had a tilt table test that was embarrassing too but for much more clear concrete reasons. Somehow didn’t know about that second part, and did complain through most of the first part because Oof Ouch Everything Hurts Lol. REALLY did not know the iv thing and had to once again sadly state that no, It has to go in the hand . I will say the experience was funny in the second part from the other ways because my first reaction was literally just “Uh Oh.” The moment I realized it was going to get worse. all I know is my blood pressure stayed consistent throughout, I don’t know what else im gonna hear about it. Hopefully something helpful.

is setting up an ABLE account difficult? Can anybody do it? It’s an issue dealt with by a lot of people but I should at least try to find a way to save money from benefits for the future or in case some stupid medical shit happens that the health won’t cover. I just looked up and saw Vinny sleeping while propping lubics head up with his foot. Hoping I can enjoy things normally again shortly,

8/26/2024, Still better than july

#Diary

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galaxywarp · 4 months ago

Note

It's the anon from a while ago who was going through opioid withdrawal.

I went to a pain management clinic and they basically told me my withdrawal symptoms aren't real and I should see a psychologist. They won't help me taper. That an addiction center wouldn't help because I'm not really addicted. Then why do I feel so sick when I try to reduce my dosage? Why do I have all the textbook symptoms of withdrawal? I can't stop cold turkey and I can't be sick all the time cause I have a full time job.

He said the opioids would be out of my system in a week, is that true? I don't know if I can get through a week of feeling like this. I've been on these meds for over a year, it just doesn't feel safe.

He also told me I just have to deal with my chronic pain and there's nothing they can do. It took weeks to see this specialist and he basically told me to go fuck myself.

I ended up breaking down in the appointment and he just had me leave.

I'm so tired and frustrated and I hate feeling like this.

Anon im so sorry. Thats so fucking shitty

I swear it’s fucking like — all he did was set you up for fucking failure.

He’s telling you to ignore your own warning signs until they get bad enough for him to acknowledge. By then you might be desperate enough that you go to street drugs or your withdrawal might need medical assistance. It happens a lot to pain patients whose doctors fuck them over. By the time they validate your problem their solution is now to just cut you off and leave you with no legal options for your pain. It’s an extremely common reason that people end up on heroin.

He’s encouraging you to pretend that the problem isn’t starting and setting you up to keep digging yourself deeper. But of course they’ll say it’s YOUR fault if your pain drives you to do something dangerous.

Ugh. Okay. Listen.

The opiates may very well be out of your system in a week. And i want to assure you that opiate withdrawal, while extremely painful, is not technically dangerous. Not like alcohol or benzodiazepines where you can hallucinate and have seizures. You won’t be in any danger. Just extreme discomfort (as im sure you’ve tasted already)

But if you continue to feel pain after that, and you very well might, i wanna tell you it’s real and valid. Even if doctors try to do the “it’s only in your head” thing.

Cuz you know what. It WILL be in your head. Your body’s pain receptors are going to feel raw and fragile. I was clean from fentanyl for months before my chronic pain truly eased. It’s like your body has to learn how to tolerate pain again and people don’t respect how miserable and painful that process is. You’re brave and strong for facing it.

I’m a little sleep deprived and im not sure what else advice i can offer atm but you’re on my mind anon. Please drop in my inbox again whenever you need.

#asks

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icallhimjoey · 2 years ago

Text

In 120 Hours

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You work as a temp and are offered a very exclusive interview for a very exclusive job. You see, someone needs a personal assistant for a very eventful week, and you happen to be the perfect fit.

CW / disclaimer: 18+, language, drinking, rpf, fem!reader

Author’s note: part four! this is where we get unprofessional, but, you know, it's not just you. for all my new readers, know that my joey is soft joey first and foremost - if you were waiting for some filthy smut, im sorry to disappoint!

Wordcount: 4.5K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

At 6AM sharp you grabbed the remote control from Joe’s bedside table and turned his TV off before placing a cup of coffee down.

“Get up, Joe,”

You were still in pyjamas yourself, bedhead, barefooted, voice groggy and sleep still stuck in the corners of your eyes. On your way out of Joe’s bedroom, you said, “We’re leaving in about thirty minutes,” and then didn’t get a response.

You stopped in the doorway, looked back and couldn’t help but imagine what sleeping in that big bed with Joe would be like. The bed looked like it was a twelve-year-old Ikea piece that had been taken apart and put back together too many times - like it would wobble unsteadily any time someone in the bed would turn over. Good thing his new bed was coming in today.

You found the switch for the big light, slapped it, and flushed the room with bright white, hurting your own eyes as well as probably Joe’s.

“Joe?”

Then a thumbs up shot up from the big pile of white duvet, and you scoffed, huffed a laugh, and said “Coffee’s on your bedside table, we’re having breakfast at the shoot.”

In the car on the way over it was quiet. You were both freshly showered, and you’d even had the time to blow dry your hair, but it was still early, and the both of you were still tired. You imagined it was mostly because of the loud TV – there was no way Joe was getting any better sleep than you were with that thing blaring. At least your new earplugs worked just fine and you’d managed to get a lot more sleep than the night before.

The morning felt a little heavy, because with all the driving around London, getting to see so much of it, you had started thinking about why you hadn’t actually moved back yet. Memories of your ex wanting to move away, back to his hometown, his estranged nan dying and leaving him the house... it felt like you’d hit the jackpot at the time. And your family was relatively close too, so it was fine. But you’d had real withdrawal symptoms from leaving the city, and now that you were no longer actually with him, you tried to think of reasons why you’d bought a flat in his hometown after you broke up, but you came up empty.

“Are you all right?”

You looked at Joe whose eyebrows quirked, giving away a polite bit of worry.

“There’s going to be a lot of deliveries today, I’m doing mental math to figure out how I’m going to do this,” you lied in truths. “And I’m really hungry.”

Joe was asked to go to a workshop after the photoshoot, just for an encouraging word, nothing insane, but it meant you were going to be rushing a bit. After the appearance at the workshop, there’d be a phone interview, and then there’d be another screening.

Joe sighed.

“I don’t want to be rude and skip it, but, I kind of want to skip the film screenings today,”

“You’ll still have to go to be seen, talk to some people,”

“Yea, don’t really want to do that either,”

You paused, looked over Joe’s schedule, at how many things there were, saw that tomorrow was his film premiere with the Q&A straight after, and then the day after that, the awards ceremony. You understood the want for a short break, looked at Joe and said, “Let’s have breakfast first, before you make any rash decisions,”

But then Joe smiled wistfully, and you knew this wasn’t a rash decision at all.

Fine.

You could come up with a vague excuse for him, no problem.

A busy morning passed you by, and you'd made a deal with Joe’s driver. You said he could have the evening off if he would go back to Joe’s house to sign for furniture deliveries, and then you’d call if you needed him to come pick you up and bring you somewhere else.

A tricky deal because this was power you definitely didn’t yield. But Joe had said he didn’t want to go to the screenings, which effectively meant that he wouldn’t need to be brought anywhere from the workshop forward.

You were lucky the driver seemed to like you, with a sneaky wink and a small smile, the driver dropped you off, accepted the front door key you handed him and drove right back to Joe’s address.

And then you spent the whole photoshoot on the phone to him, because the men moving the furniture in had also been paid to place all pieces in the correct rooms, and then when you heard the driver walk up all the stairs, you felt like you were crossing a thousand boundaries letting all these people into Joe’s house without you or Joe being there.

“They want to take the big bed out of the master bedroom,”

“Yea sure, can they disassemble it and leave it in another room on the first floor? Just so it’s out of the way. We can maybe use it for another guest room, or whatever, don’t let them take it away. Wait. They can take the mattress; can they take the mattress? There’ll be new ones coming in. Not having to haul that thing off ourselves will be a huge help.”

“Yes, ma’am,”

You crossed your fingers that everything would work out fine, and that you weren’t going to walk into a huge unfixable mess of a house later that day.

Joe basically had a full day of picture taking. The shoot was obviously very camera heavy, but the appearance at the workshop was basically a fan meeting in and of itself. It was all teenagers who either already went to film school, or really wanted to go to film school, and Joe was the only big celebrity that people who weren’t into film would also recognize in a selfie. So, they all wanted selfies, and who was Joe to tell them no?

On the way back to Joe’s house in the late afternoon, you asked him if he wanted to do the scheduled phone interview, and just when Joe was about to say something snarky about you asking him if he wanted to, you had the phone already ringing for him.

Joe narrowed his eyes at you with a small sneaky smile, and started a mild insult, “You little– hello!” but wasn’t able to finish because someone picked up on the other end. You grinned, couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your throat, and this time, Joe didn’t grab your knee to squeeze, but his fingers found your forearm to scratch before he focused all his attention on the lady on the phone who asked him questions about previous and upcoming projects.

Deep breaths, everyone. It was just a scratch. One that made your belly somersault, but you know, t’was just a little scratch. Nothing major. Shit. You had to calm down.

When you rounded the corner into Joe’s street, it was time to face the music. See what state the house was left in by the delivery men.

Downstairs in the living room, there were three rolled up rugs, still in its plastic packaging, a new TV unit, another sideboard that was meant to become a little bar area for Joe, and there were large ceiling lights, still in their boxes – no sofa yet. In the dining room, next to the clothing racks, were ten dining room chairs, lights and a long shelf – no table yet.

You knew upstairs Joe’s new bed would’ve been delivered, and you were about to tell him about it, but stepping into the kitchen you could see Joe hunched over the counter, reading a script, and munching on a banana.

When he saw you, he looked up and asked, “Do you mind if I go sit in your room to read this?”

Your room.

“Of course not, go ahead, it’s your house.”

And Joe left you alone. Which was great actually. It’d give you time to unpack furniture, drag things into their right spots and, you know, see your vision come to life a little. You texted Joe’s management a weak excuse for Joe not going to the film screenings or the industry happy hour that day and got to work.

At 6PM you called, “Joe, you hungry? Should I order some food?” up the stairs. You heard movement, saw him appear at the top and he said, “I’ll cook us something,” as he made his way down.

You watched him jog all the way down, and when stood next to you at the bottom, he gave you a confused look, asked, “What?”

You looked down at his hands.

“How are your wrists doing?”

Joe looked down as well, rotated both hands, completely unsure of what you meant.

“Because you’ve got a lot of signing to do tonight,”

About two hours later, all furniture had been unpacked, all plastic and cardboard had been sorted and taken out, Joe’s clothing racks had found a new home in an empty room upstairs and you had both eaten a beautiful home-cooked meal.

Because there was no sofa and no dining table yet, the two of you found yourselves on the floor, laid out on one of Joe’s new rugs. You were passing Joe photographs of himself in costume, one by one, and Joe signed the same squiggly ‘Joe’ on all of them, laying on his side, hanging into one of his shoulders.

It was boring assembly line work. But there was wine. A lot of wine. And music. Although, you had real strong doubts about the playlist Joe’d put on, but whatever, people liked different things. It was fine.

“If someone had told you five years ago that you’d be signing five thousand pictures of yourself the night before your film would premier at the London Film Festival, would you have believed them?”

“The person I was five years ago was a lot more confident than you’d think,” Joe said, having a sip of wine, giving his hand a 5 second break from holding the sharpie before getting right back into the routine. Dangerous game this, having red wine on a brand-new rug.

“I probably wouldn’t have believed them, not deep down, but I would’ve definitely pretended they’d been right,” Joe continued.

“Sort of, blind confidence, you’d have been like, me? oh yeah,”

“Yea, me? famous in five years? yes, absolutely,”

You both laughed.

You had a nice rhythm going, working in a big triangle. You would slide a photo over to Joe from his left, Joe would sign it, and slide it away from him to your left, where they all gathered in a huge pile that you’d later organize into neat stacks to go back into the boxes. But there were so many photographs, you’d no idea how you were going to finish them all with tomorrow and the day after being busy days.

“You’re a fidgeter,” Joe suddenly said, and you immediately stilled your fingers and balled your hands into fists.

“I’m a fidgeter?” emphasis on the I, you reached for your wine and took a sip, giving Joe some accusatory eyes. You’d seen Joe fidget his way through his days – thumbs finding the underside of his rings, teeth biting into the skin of his lips, sweaty palms being rubbed over his knees, whatever there was left of his nails scratching into his scruff... you wondered if there was anything left of the confident Joe from five years ago he’d just described.

“I’m not saying that I’m not, I’m just saying that you clearly are too,”

You looked at your hand – at your ring, and kind of wished it would’ve just reminded you of your grandmother by now, but it didn’t. Of course, it didn’t. Would it ever?

“That’s a nice ring,” Joe observed, making polite conversation, but carefully, because your face would do this thing whenever you looked at it, or touched it, and Joe didn’t like how he’d lose you for a second.

“Thanks, it um... it used to belong to my grandmother,”

And that’s when Joe thought he understood.

“I’m so sorry,”

You looked up and saw two ridiculously empathetic eyes look at you, displaying far too much pure, raw emotion, especially because it was totally misplaced, too.

“Oh no, she’s alive still. Very alive. Probably making a poor kid behind a bar somewhere cry because he’s mixed her drink wrong,” you chuckled, but it died quick, got stuck in the back of your throat somewhere as it constricted. And Joe didn’t speak, which, honestly, if he’d really been this kind dude that he was portraying to be, he would’ve said something by now so you didn’t feel the need to fill the silence yourself.

But he didn’t. And now you were going to have to share personal information about yourself.

You waited a second longer, looked at Joe to see if maybe he was going to say something, but he’d stopped signing, even capped the sharpie, and just looked at you.

Fuck.

“No um, so, this used to belong to my grandmother, and then she gave it to my boyfriend to propose to me with it, and he did, but then, that... we didn’t work out, so, I’m not engaged anymore, but I can’t give the ring back to him, can I? It used to be my nan’s!”

You were rambling a little, not making eye contact as you reached for the bottle of wine to refill your glass. Surely Joe had left it out here because the expectation was that you were going to finish it, right?

“My nan’s, not his... so I turned it into a normal ring, started wearing it on another finger, and now I... I kind of wear it to prove to myself that it’s something that ties me and my nan closer together, and it's not, you know, the engagement ring my ex-boyfriend gave to me,”

You moved the bottle over to Joe’s glass, and he gave it a small nudge to get it closer to you for a top up.

“But it just, it obviously just reminds me of him all the time... I’ve convinced myself there’s going to be a moment where it won’t, and maybe that will actually be the case, at some point,” you were talking with your hands, waving the bottle around and it made Joe reach a fearful hand over. That was red wine, and you were on a new rug.

“Oh, sorry,”

You knew how expensive this rug was, too.

“Go on,” Joe said softly, as he silently slid your glass away from you a little too.

“No, um, yea...” You shook your head to get back on track. “It’s not been that long anyway, so who knows. I don’t want to give up on it yet, it’s just stupid that it was an engagement ring before it was anything else to me, you know?”

Joe nodded, asked, “How long has it been?”

“About a month and a half,”

“Since you broke up?”

“Um no, since I secretly bought myself my own flat.” You huffed out a laugh. You knew it wasn’t funny, but you also knew that you sounded like a clinically insane person.

Joe didn't look at you as if you were crazy, but he also didn't say anything.

“I knew,” you squeezed your eyes shut for a moment. “I knew it wasn’t going to work out. I should’ve never said yes, I should’ve never – honestly, I should’ve never even moved out of London for him, but you know... things happen.”

You slid another photograph of Eddie over to Joe, and it prompted Joe to uncap this sharpie again, sign the one that was still in front of him before moving onto the next. Slower pace now though.

“I only ended the engagement last week,”

“You had your own flat for over a month and he didn’t know?”

“Yep. No clue.” you smiled a painful smile, then cleared your throat. “So, that’s why I’m single.”

Another photo for Joe. Another sip of wine for you.

“What about you?”

“Why am I single?” Joe’s eyes shot up at you, a little playful smile underneath.

“Why do you fidget, you idiot,”

Joe laughed.

“But sure, that too. What’s got you all fucked up inside?”

Joe then grinned, silently signed a few more photographs, then took a deep breath and closed his sharpie again before leaning down further, head now supported by his hand.

“At the risk of sounding like the biggest twat ever,”

“Okay wait,”

You moved, positioned yourself to lay on your stomach, feet up behind you, leaning heavily into your shoulders, ready to listen.

“I’m ready, go,��

Joe laughed silently, then nodded to himself, and said, “You know how fizzy drinks, sparkling drinks, how they go flat if you leave them out long enough?”

Fantastic. An actor using a metaphor.

“Yes,”

“That’s kind of... that’s kind of what tends to happen with me. I’ll really like something, or someone, and then... it loses the bubbles. And I don’t like coke without any bubbles in, you know? I’d rather not drink it, just, get something else instead.” Joe groaned as he heard himself say it. “I don’t mean, I don’t – you know, I don’t shove someone out and just get someone new in immediately, that’s not...” Joe didn't finish the sentence.

You looked at Joe for a second, then clicked your tongue.

“Easy fix, you’ve just got to stop going around and leaving bottles uncapped,”

And Joe laughed. Threw his head back and let the rest of his body follow, rolling onto his back, and you couldn’t help but laugh with him. “What? Tell me I’m wrong!” you challenged him.

“Well, I can’t keep all the bottles closed the whole time either, can I? I’ve got to fill up some glasses,”

Joe was slowly losing you with this metaphor.

“Sure, so, fill up a glass, put the cap back on, and back in the fridge it goes!”

A more tentative silenced followed next. Joe flipped back onto his side and reached for his wine.

“Or maybe we could just have wine forever.”

Your conversation carried on, and you talked about all different kinds of things. Joe had you explain the full vision you had for the room you were in, had you dart around gesturing where the sofa would go, which light had to be hung where, what paint colours to use for each wall, which Joe had to get painters in for, because these ceiling are too high to do that safely yourself, buddy. And Joe said he loved it, but you didn’t believe him, because Joe didn’t seem like the guy who could visualize the way you could. He’d confessed being bad at that when it came to his outfits, how was he ever going to convince you that he could do it for his interior? But fine. You could accept a compliment, even if it didn’t mean anything. They were kind words anyway.

When you finished the bottle of wine, Joe asked what time you needed to wake up tomorrow, and it wasn’t until 10 that a stylist would come over with clothing for the premier, so you said 9AM and Joe promptly opened the second bottle before sitting back down and filled up both your glasses once more before getting back into signing.

There was a brief moment where Joe tried to teach you how to forge his signature so you could help, but it was very obvious which ones you’d done, so that plan was quickly given up on.

And when that second bottle was nearing its end as well, somehow, the conversation lulled back onto singledom, and you talked about how being single was actually really quite nice.

You had all this time to yourself, no one to answer to. The place would actually be quiet for once. No mess from other people to clean up after – fully ignoring your current temp job in the moment, you’d been cleaning up after Joe all evening – and no person to yell at you for making a mess.

But then it quickly took a turn, and you both became sarcastic.

“It’s great having dinner by yourself all the time,” Joe spoke into his glass.

“Waking up in empty beds is so fine,” you gulped your last sip down.

“Going out and being the only single one in your group of people is not weird at all,”

“13th wheeling is so fun, isn’t it?”

“Oh, the best,”

“It’s great reaching for a hand to hold in bed and finding that the only other hand in there is your own other hand,” you said, and Joe winced at that, laughed because that felt too real.

“And it’s easy to fight off any loneliness by just turning on the TV to pretend there’s people around and you’re not so fucking alone all of the time,”

And you gasped a sad breath, making Joe freeze just as he was about to take his last sip, and he pointed a finger.

“No, don’t,”

“Oh no... you have that TV blaring because...”

“Don’t,”

“Because you’re lonely?” Your eyebrows couldn’t possibly knit together any further. “Joe, that’s really sad,” you said, but you burst out laughing straight after.

“Yea, well,” Joe emptied his glass, let the last bit of red slide down his throat. “At least I don’t hold my own fucking hand in bed,”

You erupted into full belly laughter. Just, raw joy from the deepest pits within you. It all bubbled up and out, and you laughed until you couldn’t anymore because it started to hurt your stomach too much. You were tipsy, sure, but you hadn’t been able to laugh at yourself like this in ages. Felt great. Sort of cleansing, in a way.

You’d not even gotten through half a box of photographs.

Time for bed.

There was something nice about tidying up before bed, moving things into the kitchen, turning off all the lights and walking up the stairs together. You said goodnight as you walked into the guest room, and Joe made his way up another flight, but you’d only just taken your socks off when Joe called down for you.

“Um... I think we have a problem?”

Joe’s bed.

You ran up the stairs and found Joe, staring at his new bed. Flat-packed, still. There were dressers, nice armchairs, and bedside tables too. But all still in boxes. Wrapped in plastic. New mattresses nowhere to be found.

Shit.

You’d forgotten all about Joe’s bedroom, and the two of you just stared at it for a moment, trying to think of what to do.

“Take the guest room,” you suddenly said, opting a very sensible solution. “I’ll go... I don’t know, find a hotel to stay at for the night,” But then Joe was already scooping up his pillows that had been left in a pile on the side, and said, “Or, we could pillow-wall it?”

After asking maybe fifteen times if you felt comfortable, if you were okay with this, if you really were fine, which, “Yes, Joe, shut up, this bed is massive, I won’t even feel it if you turn,” you were in bed together with Joe’s pillows strategically placed in between you underneath the covers. Like you were children who both thought the other was gross and touching each other in your sleep would be the death of you. It was fine. Cute even, but you kind of wished they weren’t there. They had to be. Obviously. You were his PA. Ew, gross. Were you getting paid to sleep in the same bed? Technically you were, weren’t you? Disgusting - that was a thought to push down immediately and to forget about forever.

You were right about the bed, though. It really was wide enough for you to move around freely and not have it be weird. But, you know, it was still a little weird. And you were both a little awkward about it, so you found solace in humour as you got comfortable in the dark.

“If someone had told you a five years ago,” Joe started, and already had you giggling. “That you’d be sleeping in the same bed with me, would you have believed them?” Joe asked, and you could hear how he tried to hold back his own giggles.

You were two ten-year-olds at a slumber party, that's exactly what this felt like.

“You were nobody five years ago,” you laughed. “I would’ve gone, who?”

“Who the fuck’s Joe Quinn?” Joe said in a high-pitched voice.

“I’d also probably say, that won’t ever happen, I would never let my boss talk me into bed with him,”

“Oi, fuck off,” Joe laughed. “I’m only here because you fucked up,”

Oof, shots fired over the pillow wall.

“I’m sorry there’s no TV in here for you to deafen your own sad thoughts with,” you fired right back.

“Good night,” Joe spoke sternly, and then you both laughed until silence took over.

“Good night,” you then said back in a softer tone of voice and turned over onto your side. Joe yawned, said good night in a nice way too, indicating that it really was time to sleep now. No more chatting, no more joking. Just silence, and sleep.

You didn’t know how much later it was when you suddenly snapped out of thought – one of those moments where you were like, oh I’m still awake? I could’ve sworn my thoughts were dreams – by something touching your wrist.

“Stop fidgeting,” you heard Joe whisper drowsily, his voice muffled by duvets and pillows. He’d snuck an arm over to your side and let his fingers wrap around your wrist. Almost in a reflex, you twisted in his grip and took hold of his wrist too.

You laid like that for a little while, until you had the thought that, if you were to fall asleep, your grip would loosen and you’d lose each other. You didn’t know why that pained your chest the way it did, but it was enough for you to move your hand down, fit it into his, and Joe followed your lead as your fingers laced together. You inhaled a sharp breath, and you felt Joe squeeze tightly. You could cry at how comforting this was.

“Don’t let go of it,” you whispered into the dark.

“I won’t.”

And without trying to overthink about how you’d gotten here, which steps you’d taken throughout the past three days that lead up to this moment, you fell into a deep sleep, sunk all the way into the plush softness of the bed, holding hands with Joe, with only fifty-six hours on the clock still.

—

The Taglisted:

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana4610 @emmamooney @sadbitchfangirl @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @eddiemunsonfuxks

@figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @mybffjoe @chaoticgood-munson @jenisnotlost @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie

@thefemininemystiquee @hauntingbastille @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-joey @alizztor @thelostmoonofpooosh @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @quinnsbower @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @eddielives1986

(taglist currently full, sorry)

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joe quinn x you #joseph quinn x you #joe quinn fanfic #joseph quinn fanfic #fluff #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #rpf #in 120 hours #part 4

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