#Exposure therapy is fun so far | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

possibilistfanfiction · 5 months

Note

for surgeons AU could we get some early days, maybe first date or something? obsessed with your work as always

[s/o to everyone who asked for their first date, love u, crossposting this au to ao3 now too i guess lol!]

‘don’t laugh.’

‘i’m not.’

you glare.

‘i swear, i’m not,’ she lies.

‘cam, you’re actively laughing. physically. audibly. at me.’

camila takes a deep breath and forces herself to frown. ‘okay. sorry. continue.’

‘bea is just — hot.’

you can tell that camila fights a grimace, which is fair, maybe, because she’s known beatrice for years through medical school. ‘she’s also very kind and understanding, if you wanted to, like, do something that would actually be fun for the both of you.’

‘hiking sounds fun.’

‘ava.’

it’s not all that often you feel the tightness in your chest that you remember from childhood: things are far less limited to you now. you have care you need, and your physical therapy and surgeries and medications are usually effective at letting you do whatever you want day-to-day. ‘just — don’t.’

camila sighs. ‘okay. but i promise bea wouldn’t think any less of you.’

you flop back on her sofa. ‘i know that, i really do. but it’s just so not sexy. and you know what is sexy? beatrice without a shirt on hiking ten miles, all sweaty and —‘

‘— it’s november, i’m pretty sure she’ll be wearing a shirt and a jacket —‘

‘— that’s not the point.’

camila loses her battle and does outright laugh at you now. ‘okay. well, to answer your question, you can borrow whatever of my gear you need, and i won’t tell bea.’

‘you’re a saint.’

to be fair, beatrice picks you up in her extremely clean subaru — you refrain from saying anything; it’s way too easy for it to actually be fun anyway — and offers you a breakfast sandwich and a coffee from, apparently, her favorite place near her house. it’s a cool, cloudy morning, typical november fair, and it’s still dark out, but you’re used to being up early or really at any time of day or night at this point. you’d done every spine decompression stretch you’ve ever learned in physical therapy, taken some ibuprofen, and truly have no plan other than hoping camila’s trekking poles — a very serious name for very fancy walking sticks — are enough to see you through.

beatrice, for her part, is clearly nervous, and it’s charming: she spends at least twenty minutes talking to you about all of the features of the hike and why it’s an ideal one for the two of you — ‘it’s moderate elevation gain up to the crest, about 2.5 miles, and, since it has southern exposure, we won’t get too much wind today.’ and, ‘if you want to keep going, it’s beautiful along the ridge, and there’s two mild peaks we could summit.’ and, ‘i’ve packed enough food and water for essentially however long we want to go; you can carry some if you’d like, if you didn’t pack much yourself.’ and, ‘anyway, the entire thing is wonderful and, in my experience, fairly empty, especially as it grows colder. but, just our luck: not much rain forecast for today.’ — and then asks, almost painfully awkward, about your last shift.

‘it was fine,’ you say, finishing your sandwich and making sure your trash is neatly packed up in the bag, with hers too. ‘but enough shop talk. i want to know about you.’

she blushes and you see, not for the first time but maybe in a way that’s more obvious than you have before, that beatrice is just a person after all, even if she’s unflappable at work.

‘it’s okay,’ you say, so she doesn’t shut down or feel embarrassed. ‘i don’t mind shop talk, but i’m just — i’m glad to spend the time with you, away from work. plus you’re like a total enigma. very mysterious. it’s kind of hot.’

you haven’t said explicitly this is a first date, but you’ve been on lots of first dates and you’re fairly certain this is one. you’re definitely certain when she laughs, her shoulders loosening down her spine, away from her ears, and says, ‘only kind of?’

‘well, i wasn’t sure if we were just colleagues or just friends or whatever.’

‘or whatever?’

you groan. ‘you’re extremely hot, are you kidding? i think it’s affecting my residency, actually. i get distracted by your hands and then i lose the plot.’

she takes that in, maybe more than you had meant to say but who cares at this point; you’d gotten up at 5 am for her on your day off, so it’s fairly clear how you feel. ‘you’re quite distracting yourself, dr. silva.’

‘in a good or bad way? like, sexy or annoying?’

she rolls her eyes; you can tell, even if she’s still watching the road. ‘it depends. often both.’

you grin, lean back in the seat. ‘i contain multitudes, what can i say. triple threat.’

‘sexy, annoying, and… ?’

‘brilliant, obviously.’

‘oh yes, obviously.’ you pull into a deserted parking lot amidst a lush green forest and a heavy early morning fog; it’s beautiful, and you don’t ever regret that you ended up here, but you feel particularly grateful for it now. ‘you are brilliant, ava.’ it’s serious, the way she says it and the way she squeezes your hand, just once, before she gets out of the car with a soft smile.

you watch her as subtly as you can as she puts on her gear, following suit as closely as you can without being too obvious about it. you know this is, objectively, really stupid and unnecessary, and jillian is probably spidey-senses yelling at you from somewhere in the world, but you have never wanted to impress someone so badly in your entire life. once beatrice is all ready to go, in her warm fleece quarterzip underneath a waterproof shell, a similar setup for her pants, her boots tied securely and her pack neatly zipped, poles ready at the correct height — so your elbows are at 90 degrees, camila had explained yesterday — and a beanie pulled down securely over her buzzed hair and ears.

‘the most important part for me,’ she says.

it takes you a second, but then you laugh. ‘you’re being funny.’

she makes sure her car is locked, zips the keys in a pocket inside her jacket, and then takes off down the trail. ‘i’ve been known to have a sense of humor from time to time.’

she’s not even walking that fast but it’s cold and jillian is mad at you all the time for how much you have to stand just for work, definitely without the however-many-long mile hike you’re about to go on. ‘the other interns are terrified of you, you know.’

beatrice turns toward you with a smirk. ‘and you’re not?’

‘well, i’ve seen you cry, once not even about a patient but about the fact that the coffee cart was out of earl grey tea.’

‘i hadn’t slept in thirty hours.’

you shrug — that’s probably true, but still — and bump her in the shoulder. ‘i like you,’ you tell her, honest, finally, amongst the moss and the ferns, the sun barely up, no one around to hear you. there’s a different kind of fear you feel when it comes to beatrice: not as dr. choi, indomitably talented and ruthlessly efficient resident, but as someone whose cologne you recognize, as someone who you want to make your grandma’s vatapáfor. ‘you’re kind to me.’

beatrice slows down for a moment — thank fucking god — and takes you in. you feel out of place often, and especially here, but the best thing about her is that, even if she senses it, she never faults you. ’that’s what you deserve.’ and then, ‘i hope i am. i want to be.’

you don’t know much about her, really: you know that she went to boarding school at 14 and had been at the top of her class at the best schools and programs in the world ever since; that she loves to be in nature and has known lilith for forever; that her accent loosens, just slightly, when she’s especially excited or especially exhausted. she likes otters, you’ve gathered, from a little pin on her coat, and she wants to go into cardio because it’s endlessly fascinating to her, and impossible, and miraculous. she runs so much admin for the free gender affirming surgery clinic even though it’s not her speciality and she certainly doesn’t have to; she learned asl last year, in addition to a host of other languages she speaks, to better communicate with patients and colleagues. you think, of anyone in your program, maybe of anyone at the hospital entirely, she’s chief superion’s favorite.

there are so many things you want to learn about her: what makes her scared and who she let take care of her after she had top surgery and what her favorite song is and what book made her cry as a child and if she likes comedies or is more of a drama kind of girl. you want, you can admit to yourself, to know everything about her in a way you’ve never quite wanted anything before.

‘you’re the best person i know.’ you’re worried it’s too much before she smiles — not at you, too shy, but you catch it anyway before she looks away.

‘that’s generous.’

‘still, true.’

she worries her lip before saying, ‘i am, technically, your boss.’

‘barely.’

‘ava.’

‘hmm. not dr. silva? doesn’t sound very position of power to me.’

‘i — i like you too.’ you watch her push her poles into the soft ground a little harder, like her whole body is fighting — to say what she means, or to not say it, you’re not sure.

you’ve had crossroads in your life before, most of them really fucking horrible — until they weren’t, until the world stretched out before you and opened up before you. you’ve talked over and over about this with jillian and the therapist she made sure you went to before you consented to any truly dangerous and experimental procedures or injections: disability was limiting, sure, but the real harm was done by the lack of care afforded you, not your lack of movement. you work so, so hard to believe it on good days; it’s nearly impossible on the worst.

but this is the best day, you decide. camila is right: beatrice is kind and caring and brave in ways you know; in ways you have yet to find out.

you’ve made it maybe half a mile into the hike but your back is aching, left foot going numb already, your right hand clenched too tight around the handle of the pole, so much so that even the soft cork of it hurts. so, instead of moving and moving and moving like you always do, like you have since the moment you could close your hands into fists so tight you swore you’d never let the world go: you stop.

bea takes a few more steps and then notices; she turns around and looks at you curiously.

‘sorry,’ you say, impulse and fear and habit, then shake your head. ‘actually, uh. i’m not? yeah, i’m not.’

she stands steady, unfazed by that. ‘okay.’

‘uh, well. i like you too. i already said that, but i really like you. i don’t — god, this sounds so stupid. but i don’t want to be your intern.’

the small, amused smile on beatrice’s face makes you feel better. ‘am i not a good teacher?’

‘i think there are lots of other things i would enjoy you teaching me.’ you close your eyes for a moment as she laughs, trying to regroup. ‘okay, i am sorry for that one.’

‘don’t be. i quite enjoyed it.’

‘before — before we tell chief superion anything, if you wanted to try, just — you should know that i shouldn’t have said yes to going on this hike.’

beatrice’s brow knits together, so immediately concerned you reach for her hand.

‘not because — it’s beautiful,’ you say. ‘you’re beautiful, and i’m so happy you asked me.’

she doesn’t look any less worried, which is fair.

‘i have a spinal cord injury,’ you say, and her face softens into something you’re terrified of for a moment, until you realize it’s only patience, only an opening for understanding — not pity, and certainly not anything close to contempt.

‘okay,’ she says, calmly and as kind as ever.

stupid, annoying tears burn at your eyes. ‘i just — you love hiking, and you asked and planned so nicely, and you wanted to share this special thing with me, and —‘

‘ava,’ she says, then brings her thumbs to wipe your cheeks with a gentle smile. ‘i just wanted to spend time with you. you’re right, i enjoy hiking, but i also enjoy lots of other things. things that i would also want to share with you.’

‘i should be using a cane at work,’ you admit, in the middle of this beautiful forest where no one but her can hear you. ‘i haven’t been because i didn’t, i don’t —‘

‘— while i think it’s wise you’re moved off my service,’ she says, ‘i will burn down that entire hospital if anyone looks down on you for that.’

‘that seems counterintuitive to do no harm.’ the way you say it is wobbly and your nose is full of snot and it’s kind of all so terrible, but then you catch up: ‘you don’t want me on your service?’

beatrice steadies herself. ‘i want to kiss you.’

‘even after —‘

‘ava, listen. i want to kiss you.’

‘yeah,’ you say, and lean forward.

it feels like your entire body lights up, even though it aches in the damp cold — golden light everywhere.

you laugh a little afterward, then beatrice smiles and takes off back toward her car without any complaints.

‘it’s still rather early,’ she says as you go on your way, ‘and we’re only about twenty minutes from the car.’

you grimace. ‘yeah, sorry.’

she shakes her head. ‘there are undoubtedly so many things you need to apologize for daily, ava —‘

‘— hey —‘

‘— but this is not one of them.’

‘fine,’ you huff.

she’s unfazed. ‘i was going to ask if perhaps you wanted to come over to my place. among other things i like in addition to hiking, i do like to catch up on rest as well. and then perhaps lunch? there’s a spot near me that has wonderful oysters.’

‘a nap? in your sexy house? lunch? with your sexy face?’

she ignores most of it: ‘it’s a rather normal house.’

‘i bet it’s sexy. lilith told me you were rich.’

beatrice grimaces.

‘it’s okay. like, really. i just bet you’re, like, the kind of person who has bespoke everything, aren’t you?’

‘no,’ she says, but she’s blushing and looking away from you.

‘you know, you’ve got a terrible poker face.’

‘only when it comes to you, i’m afraid.’

‘ah, what a terrible fate.’

‘the worst,’ she agrees, shaking her head with a smile. ‘it’s got a good view, i will say.’

‘well, lead the way then.’

‘ava, we’re just walking back to the car.’

you roll your eyes. ‘you know what i mean.’

beatrice’s house is beautiful, perched on a hill with giant windows overlooking the sound and the olympics. she laughs — not unkindly — when you admit that all of your hiking gear is actually camila’s, says, ‘i thought that pack looked familiar,’ and then lends you a hoodie and some comfortable running shorts to change into. you don’t ask her so many things brimming inside of you; she doesn’t ask you either, although you’re sure she — as bea and as dr. choi — has a billion questions. you’ll ask and answer everything in due time.

for today, you bully her — with far too little bullying involved to make her argument of i’ve never seen it before and i don’t waste my time on shows like this — to start binging season 4 of real housewives of salt lake city; even less convincing when she knows all about jen’s escapades last season and then clamps her mouth shut when you laugh into her shoulder.

‘it’s compelling, fine,’ she says with a very dramatic pout, and you’re kissing it off her face before you can think twice.

she smiles into it, your nerves dissipating, and it’s good, and right, and safe. you eventually kiss her cheek and run a hand over the soft bristles of her hair — which you’ve been dying to do — while she smiles and then settle into her side.

‘thank you.’

she lets out a big breath, peaceful under the blanket, thick socks on your feet, cold rain outside but only warmth in this house with you in it. ‘no, ava. thank you.’

#wn fic #avatrice fic #avatrice #prompts #surgeons au #if there's two things i love it's hiking & rhwoslc!#butch bea 🥺🫡#they’re both so silly

71 notes · View notes

screamingcrows · 4 days

Note

Y-you maybe wanna write the "only one bed prompt" for B-Baizhu? Please s-senpai?

👉👈

S-senpai? Oh me oh my 😳 The way I just knew you'd request Baizhu, I'd planned for this... Of course, I had to pick "quit acting like I have the plague" 💀

You'd been standing in the opposite end of the room for the better part of an hour, watching Baizhu carefully brush his hair, the emerald strands shimmering in the candlelight. He'd offered for you to stay the night, knowing it was far too late for you to make it to Chenyu Vale before dark.

It'd been easy to assume he'd have a cot for you, considering the amount of patients he had to accommodate there should have been more than one. There was not a single one free. And he'd known. If his lidded eyes and sly smile were any indication at least. So here you were, shifting in the corner of his private room, trying not to focus on how soft his flanks looked, how smooth the skin would no doubt feel. Would he be warm? How would it be to kiss down his sternum? Feel the heart beating beneath his ribs?

To say you were embarrassed when he cleared his throat would be an understatement. He'd caught you gawking like a fool. The realisation sent you backwards two more steps, back hitting the wall with a soft thud. Eyes wide and lips parted, your hands raised in front of your chest, placating words stuck in the back of your throat. Archons, there was no good explanation.

"Is something the matter? You look pale," his voice felt like honey, the slight tilt of his head making light dance along his glasses.

"Nothings the matter... I was just... zoning out?"

It didn't help your condition that he'd shamelessly begun to disrobe, baring even more of that silky skin. At least Changsheng was already fast asleep, she'd have had too much fun at your expense at this sight.

"Hm, if you insist. Come, there's no reason to hide in the corner like a scared mouse, Changsheng doesn't sleep in the bed," there was a hint of humor in his voice, helping to calm you a little.

Careful steps brought you closer, sitting at the foot of the bed while he got in. You couldn't move closer, a moment of weakness and you'd do something stupid. The soft sound of his hand patting the bed did nothing to spur you into moving closer, your hands gripping the sheets tightly.

"Please, quit acting like I have the plague," a small laugh escaped with his words, further piercing your pride.

"That's not- Archons above, I'd prefer if you had the plague, at least my panic would be warranted," the words slipped out before you could stop them, quickly followed by a groan at your own idiocy.

A subdued chuckle filled the room with a warmth that immediately eased the tension in your shoulders and the discord in your mind, enough that the hand tugging you down was met with no resistance.

"Consider this exposure therapy, on the house of course," it was nothing more than a soft whisper against your ear when he continued, "you're not very subtle."

His words were lost on you, already drowning in how good he felt against you, touch more delicate than the petals of a glaze lily when his lips ghosted down your neck.

Get your own only one bed drabble

#don't mind me now getting a different idea involving reader being scared but not because of baizhu #but changsheng laying stretched on the bed giving them bedroom eyes and reader going “i'm not getting in there”#baizhu saying the prompt and reader then shaking their head like “nuh uh that's not the problem she's gonna eat me”#anyway baizhu for senpai #genshin impact x reader #baizhu x reader #screaming at the murder

26 notes · View notes

shini--chan · 2 months

Note

How would the allies fare with a reader who’s struggling with mysophobia (fear of germs) and due to their phobia they dislike physical contact and want their personal space to the point where they refuse to move in with the country because they’d prefer living alone?

Yandere Allies - Cell

He wouldn't really care about the whole mysophobia thing. In his eyes, it is just an irrational, pathetic fear and you just have to get over there. Exposure therapy does help overcome quite a few phobias, so he'll act as your therapist here. Don't worry, him touching you or taking the disinfectant away or even smearing your skin with dirt is just him helping you. There is no need to fear.

And this thing about you wanting to live alone. No, that would just be unexpectable. You are coming to live at his place, no questions asked. Frankly, he wouldn't really care if you are hyperventilating and pouring alcohol over every inch of your skin in an effort to get rid of the bacteria. He might even find it funny and have a laugh. Though, he might go as far as to meet you halfway, but only if you behave. If you abide by his rules, then you may have the nitrile gloves and the frequent bathes and masks. In short, mysophobia will only be taken into consideration as something he can use against you, a tool to browbeat you into shape. - America, England

Now, he can't help but scoff at your phobia and all the behaviours attached with it, but he will show a modicum of understanding. Just because he doesn't really understand it doesn't mean that it isn't important to you. Still, that doesn't prevent you from becoming a permanent inhabitant of his house. The whole thing must be very difficult for you, with how much it disturbs your day to day life. As such, he'll want to lure you out of that shell bit by it.

Don't think he'll lose his patience when it comes to such a task. Yes, he'll be frustrated by you at times, but he knows that if he moves too fast or speaks too loudly, then it'll be back to square one. He'll let you have a lot of space in the beginning, to the point where you could say that you live separate lives. Gradually, you two will spend more time together again, and you'll have tasks around your house that will gradually wean you off your phobia. It is all about conditioning in the end, and through him helping you out of your phobia, you'll be indebted to him. - Russia, China

Quite understanding about the whole matter and it just might be the way he would win your heart. As caring as he is, he'll take steps to make you feel more comfortable with him. With him being so accommodating to you, you'll be inclined to ignore all the red flags he is showing. All the attention and softness and understanding would make the outer walls fall, so much so that you might even feel comfortable touching him.

He would force you to move to his place, so he'll simply move to yours. As much as he would rather spend the day doing more fun stuff, he'll help you clean and take long baths and showers with you. Would use your phobia to make you stick to him. The world out there is filthy and full of rot, allow him to keep you inside and let you stay pure. If things go his way, you'll never poke your head out the door and be completely reliant on him to provide for you. Why should he have to lock you away when you'd never go outside if you can avoid it. - Canada, France

#yandere hetalia #yandere america #yandere russia #yandere england #yandere france #yandere canada #yandere china #yandere allies #yandere #x reader

22 notes · View notes

sequinsmile-x · 6 months

Text

Overture

It’s only when they get level with the picnic tables Jack had told her about that morning, the Capitol building coming into view in the background, that it clicks, when the discomfort she’d felt since they arrived suddenly makes sense.

This was where she’d met with Ian.

-x-

Hi friends!

This is based on an anon I got asking for a fic where Emily has a panic attack/PTSD attack and Aaron comforts her. I immediately got an idea for this one, so here we are.

I hope you like this <3

-x-

Warnings: Anxiety, panic attack, PTSD

Words: 3.1k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Before Aaron and Jack, going to the park would never have been Emily’s ideal way of spending a Saturday.

If she was honest, it still wasn’t. It wasn’t the park that appealed to her, nor the heat of the midday sun beating down on her, but spending time with them. Her Hotchner boys who had helped pull her back together after she thought it was impossible to do so. Their matching smiles she couldn’t say no to and their unending kindness apparently all she’d needed to feel at home again in a place she’d been torn from, her life left in torn-up pieces around her, frayed edges she would have said, not long ago, were impossible to repair.

It was slow at the start. The ease she felt around them something she’d put down to chance at first. She’d bumped into them at the mall. She’d been there shopping, exposure therapy she was forcing herself through to get used to crowds again, and she’d found them buying shoes for Jack, the little boy going through a seemingly endless growth spurt. She’d found out since that Aaron had sensed her unease, that he’d seen through her carefully constructed facade and fake smile, and he asked her to stay with them, feigning ignorance on what shoes his son needed as he asked for her advice. It gradually became a regular thing. All of her spare time was spent with them, weekends and evenings that had once been full of nothing but anxiety and silence, her eyes fixed on her front door as if a ghost would burst through it and kill her, the smell of whiskey and cigar smoke never far away, now full of them.

Soccer games she’d watch intently just to see Jack attempt to score. Evening meals that she’d pretend to help with even though in reality she’d sit there with a glass of wine and gently make fun of Aaron. Low-stakes, gentle, family movies that she knows Aaron would pick for them as well as Jack, both of them at their limit for anything more serious once work was done for the day.

If she was asked, she’d never be able to explain what made her kiss him one evening, why all of a sudden not kissing him seemed impossible. The magnetic pull he’d had on her for longer than she’d care to admit so strong that she could no longer resist it. He hadn’t hesitated in kissing her back, not even a second of no response before he held her closer, as if he’d been waiting for her to make the first move.

With anyone else, she’s sure it would terrify her that they had moved so quickly. That she’d be struck with fear that she all but lived with Aaron and Jack only a few months since they officially got together, that the fact she’d told Aaron I love you on their first date, and that he’d repeated it back to her immediately, would fill her with anxiety. But it didn’t. It felt right. Like everything she’d been through, every awful thing she thought she wouldn’t survive, had been leading to this. To them.

So, even if her choice would have been to stay snuggled up in bed with her boyfriend, Jack tucked up in between them as they slept for a little longer, she dragged herself out of bed because it was what the little boy wanted. She’d slathered her boys in sunscreen, her eyes narrowed at Aaron as he made a joke that he’d never met someone who took sun protection so seriously, and let them pick the park they were going to spend the morning in.

Jack told her that he liked this one. That it had the best swings, and a picnic area with big round tables, a glint in his eyes that Aaron said hadn’t existed before when he mentioned the ice cream truck that was nearby.

She can’t explain it, but as they get closer to the park she starts to feel uneasy. A familiar tightness builds in her chest that she doesn’t understand as Aaron parks the car. Jack releases himself from his seat and is out of the car only seconds after Aaron turns off the engine. Aaron chuckles, shaking his head at his son as he opens his door.

“Jack, no running off,” he says sternly, and Jack nods, standing perfectly still as he waits for them. Aaron turns back to Emily and frowns, picking up on the tension rolling off his girlfriend like a bitter perfume, “Sweetheart,” he says, placing his hand on her knee, his concern only deepening when she jumps and looks at him, “Are you okay?”

She nods, because she doesn’t know why she isn’t, doesn’t know how to explain that she feels like her body is remembering something she doesn’t. She smiles and leans forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m fine,” she says, smiling as she pulls back, “Let’s go get your son before he explodes with excitement.”

Emily climbs out of the car and stands by Jack’s side, offering her hand to him and smiling as he immediately grabs it, his hand warm in hers. Aaron joins them, walking alongside them as Jack talks at her, reciting facts he’d told her a hundred times and that she’d happily listen to a hundred more.

This was where she’d met with Ian. Where he’d threatened the team, the man she’d one day love and his son who she loved as her own.

Suddenly, she can’t feel the warmth of the sun on her skin, or Jack’s clammy hand in hers. She’s cold, chilled to the bone as if winter was on the horizon and not several months away. She’s frozen on the spot, the pull of her arm as Jack continues to move forward barely registering as her eyes remain fixed on the metal round table in front of her, two abandoned to-go coffee cups staring back at her, almost mocking her in the way they tip over in the light summer breeze, as empty as her chest feels as she struggles to breathe. She isn’t aware of anything around her, her body numb as she feels like she’s freezing from the inside out, the phantom of the cold, hard plastic of her glock pressed into her skin, making her palm itch.

The faint smell of sunscreen that had lingered on Jack’s skin disappears, it’s replaced by whiskey and smoke, something that had long since meant danger and fear to her. She’s stuck there, reliving the moment when her life had changed forever again and again as she’s unable to pull herself out of it, her eyes still fixed on the empty coffee cups on the table where she’d once sat opposite the man who had killed her.

She’s snapped out of it. Her lungs immediately fill as she gasps, sucking in air as she feels a warm palm on her cheek, her body tense as her eyes lock with Aaron’s. She tries to breathe in again but can’t, her chest aching as she can’t exhale, her lungs so full she thinks they might burst.

“Emily, sweetheart,” he says, sounding much calmer than he feels, his other hand reaching for one of hers and placing it on his chest, purposely exaggerating his own breathing to try and encourage hers, “I’ve got you. Just try and breathe with me, okay?” He says and she nods, closing her eyes as she rests her forehead on his, “Good, don’t worry about anything else. It’s just you and me.”

She swallows thickly, the feeling painful and sharp as she tries to push down her fear but she can’t. Instead, she focuses on Aaron. On his hand wrapped tightly around hers as he holds her palm to his chest, the smell of him and his cologne. How warm his skin is even through his polo shirt. Balmy and comforting and safe. She slowly comes back to herself, the sound of the park filtering back in, children’s laughter as they play washing over her, a reminder from the universe that good things still exist. She grasps at Aaron’s polo shirt, fisting it in her palm as she pulls him closer, sinking into his embrace as he pulls her into a hug.

“I’ve got you,” he says, kissing the top of her head as he gathers her to his chest, “Do you want to go home?”

She pulls back to look at him, “Jack was excited about this,” she croaks out, her voice not sounding like her own, “He was looking forward to this.”

If she hadn’t just had a panic attack right in front of him, her entire body frozen in spot whilst she saw something he couldn’t, he’d laugh. Her constant need to put others ahead of herself one of the many things he loved about her.

“Sweetheart,” he says, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, “Jack understands,” he says, looking back at his son who steps closer and nods, a look of concern on his face that matches his father’s which makes her ache. Guild and love mixing in her belly to make her nauseous, “Right, buddy?”

Jack nods, “If you’re sick Emily we should go home.”

She grasps at Aaron again, wondering what she’d missed during her panic attack, what conversation between father and son that she hadn’t heard despite being right there. She looks back at the table for a second before she looks back at them, her present and her future so much more important than her past.

“Yeah,” she says, clearing her throat when her voice shakes, “I’d like to go home please.”

It didn’t occur to her until much later that home meant wherever the two of them were.

___

He gives her space.

It’s the last thing he wants to do, fighting against every instinct in his body as he sends her to bed alone, giving her the space he knows she needs. He tries not to think of how she goes without argument, a sure sign she wasn’t feeling herself, or how she’d shivered in the car all the way home despite the warm weather and the sweater of his he’d pulled from his go-bag in the trunk.

He spends time with Jack, and explains to him that something, although he didn’t know what, had scared Emily, telling him in terms that the young boy would understand what had happened. He compares it to how loud noises can sometimes still spook Jack, reminding him of what he’d heard as he lay quietly in the trunk in Aaron’s old office all those years ago.

Aaron swears his heart breaks as Jack gently asks if they can find out what had scared Emily to make sure they protected her from it in the future, his wide eyes concerned as he thought of the woman who was so often the place they found their strength.

Jessica picks Jack up early in the afternoon, a plan they’d had for weeks so Jack could spend the evening with her and Roy whilst Emily and Aaron had some time alone. Aaron convinces his son to go, assuring him that Emily will be fine, and that he’ll look after her, and he does a few chores once Jack is gone.

Eventually, he walks towards his bedroom, making sure his steps are slow and steady, announcing his arrival long before he knocks on the door.

“Sweetheart,” he says gently as he pushes the door open slightly and looks at his girlfriend, his heart aching as he sees her lying on the bed, her arms wrapped around his pillow, his sweater still hanging loose around her shoulders, “Do you need anything? I could cook whatever you want.”

She shakes her head and smiles at him, feeling the shake to it as she clears her throat, “No, thank you,” she says, the idea of eating anything turning her stomach. She sits up and she looks at him. His hand is tight on the door handle, his shoulders tense as he purposely holds himself back, and she untucks one of her arms from around his pillow, “Come sit with me for a bit?”

He doesn’t wait for her to change her mind or for her to ask again. He’s across the room in a second, joining her on the bed. He purposely gives her space, not getting too close to her, but she reaches out for him, linking her fingers through his as she squeezes his hand tightly.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” she says, “I…,” she drifts off again, unsure how to put it into words, how to explain to him what happened, so she settles on the thing she can make sense of, “I’m sorry Jack saw me like that.”

He wraps his arms around her, grateful that she sinks into him, and he presses a kiss to her forehead, “You have nothing to apologise for, baby,” he assures her, kissing her forehead again, “I spoke to him, he understands what happened.”

She chuckles bitterly as she pulls away, wiping at her cheeks as she pushes away tears that she’s furious at herself for slipping free.

“Does he?” she says, shaking her head, “Because I don’t,” she blows out a steady breath and presses her lips into a firm line, “We were at the park, we were meant to have fun and pretend we weren’t going to buy Jack ice cream before lunch,” she wipes away another tear, “But then I…I thought I was better.”

He knows the feeling, the disappointment that would weigh heavily on his chest when he felt like he had a setback. How a nightmare that would tear him from sleep after months of not having one would make him feel like he was right back where he started, his chest aching and barely held together, blood seeping from his freshly stitched wounds as despair filled his lungs. He’d feel like he’d made no progress, like he was still back in the hospital bed where he’d last seen Haley alive, right up until Emily reached for him. Half asleep and blearily reaching out for him as she pulled him into her embrace, offering him a safe space to come back to himself, to remind himself of what he had now.

He knew he did the same for her, that their pasts meant they could only truly understand each other.

“You are better,” he says firmly, his voice full of love as he encourages her to look at him, his hand on her cheek as he guides her back a little, “One day like this doesn’t undo everything else, okay?” He asks, and she nods even though she isn’t sure. He’d never lied to her, and she knows he won’t start now, so she trusts him even though right now she couldn’t trust herself. “Do you know what caused it?”

She swallows thickly as she nods, blowing out a slow breath as she closes her eyes, “You know I told you that I met with Ian before…before everything went to hell? And he threatened you and Jack and everyone else?”

Aaron nods, remembering the conversation they’d had back when they were kidding themselves that they were just friends, “Yeah, you met him in a park…”

She watches as it clicks in his head, his words fading as his jaw clenches, irritation at himself burning in his gut.

“Aaron-”

“I am so sorry, sweetheart,” he says, shaking his head at himself, his grip on her tightening, “I should have-”

“You should have what?” She asks, raking her fingers through his hair, smiling softly as it flops back into place, “Known what park I met him in even though I never told you? Scoped out every park to see if my terrorist ex was ever there?”

He hates that she’s trying to make light of it, as if seeing her frozen in place, so consumed by fear, terrified of a ghost he hadn’t been able to see, hadn’t broken him.

“Em.”

She smiles sadly and nods and she rests her forehead against his, “I mean it,” she says, softly stamping her lips against his, “You couldn’t have known.”

He sighs and runs his hand up and down her back, “We’ll never go back there.”

“You and Jack love that park,” she says, kissing his jaw before she pulls back, “You told me that this morning.”

He tucks some of her hair behind her ear, “We love you more,” he says, and she smiles in response, her first real one since before they’d left the apartment that morning. It fades as quickly as it blooms, the seeds of it not quite ready to plant or take root yet, the gloom of that morning still in the dark shadows of their eyes, “How can I help?”

She rests her head on his shoulder and encourages him to wrap his arms around her as tightly as he can.

“Just hold me,” she says, sinking into his embrace as far as she can, letting his warmth replace the chill she still could feel from earlier, “And maybe tell me a story?”

He chuckles lightly as he lays down and pulls her with him, pulling the covers over them even though he’s slightly too warm for it, “A story?”

“Distract me,” she says, pressing her face into his neck, “Tell me something good.”

He runs his hand up and down her arm, thinking for a moment before he smiles, “There was once a prince called Aaron, and a brave knight called Emily-”

She laughs and pulls back to look at him, her eyebrow raised at him, “Seriously?”

“My son is six,” he says, “Fairytales are the best I can do.”

She presses her lips together to suppress her smile and lays her head back down, “At least I’m the brave knight, I guess.”

“You could never be anything else,” he says, kissing her forehead, “Now are you going to listen or are you going to interrupt again?”

“I’m listening,” she promises, closing her eyes, and letting him take over all of her senses.

“Good,” he says, kissing her one more time, “There was once a prince called Aaron, and a brave knight called Emily…”

She listens as he tells a diluted version of their story. A version where the bad guys never win, not even for a moment, and the good guys always prevail no matter what.

She falls asleep, content and safe in his arms, happy in the knowledge that her story was nowhere near its end, but just at its beginning.

-x-

Tag List:

@ssa-sparks, @lukeclvez, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @gravyfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @beebeelank, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys, @prentissinred, @ccmattis-22, @denvivale317, @thrindis, @hotchsguccitie, @cmfouatslota77, @alexblakegf, @aliensaursrex, @prentissxhotch, @emobabeyy, @victoiregranger, @stormyweatherth, @wanderingdreamer009, @ssablackbird, @luhwithah, @lex13cm, @prentiss-theorem, @dont-emily-me, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @jocyycreation, @itsmytimetoodream, @hotchnissgroupie, @controversialpooh, @capsshinyshield, @canuck-eh

Join my tag list here!

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss #hotchniss fan fic #aaron x emily #emily prentiss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #aaron hotchner

44 notes · View notes

otakusheep15 · 7 months

Text

Obey Me Flufftober Day 27

Prompt: Fireworks

Pairing: Solomon x reader (gender neutral)

Word count: 675

A/n: Only five days left until the end of the month! I honestly don't know how I've managed to do this three years in a row, but it's still a lot of fun. Since October is almost done, feel free to send me some fic suggestions! The list of fandoms I can write for is on my pinned post, so go check it out! And now, time for old man Solomon.

You were not the best at handling overstimulating situations. It's been something you'd dealt with since childhood, and no amount of exposure therapy had helped you.

Fireworks were the worst for you.

They were bright, loud, and usually involved large crowds. Fireworks were a total nightmare for you. This did upset you a bit, as you always felt like you were missing out whenever you ran and hid from them. You'd also experienced a good amount of bullying over your fears, but you learned to drown them out after a while.

Tonight, there was a party. You were told in advance that there would be fireworks, and you thought this could finally be your chance to face your fear. You'd have all of your friends there with you for support, not to mention your partner Solomon. That gave you some confidence, so you were sure you could make it through the event.

You did not make it very far through the event. Well, you were doing fine for a while, but then the fireworks started. You were so sure that this would be the night you would face your fear, but you just couldn't do it. They were too much for you to handle, and you needed to get away. Solomon, your wonderful partner, noticed how poorly you were faring and helps you to a private room free of any windows so you can't see or hear any of the fireworks.

He was always so patient with you. You were sure that Solomon wanted to be out there enjoying the festivities, but instead he chose to stay by you. He never once made fun of you or tried to force you back outside. He simply sat with you and helped you calm down.

When you'd finally calmed down a bit, he asks if there's anything you can do to help. All you want is to get over this irrational fear of yours and you doubt he can help you with something like that. However, Solomon always seems to have the solution to every problem, and he tells you that he does have a way he can help, but only if you want him to. You tell him that you'd welcome any ideas he may have, and that's all he needs.

Solomon lifts his hand, and gives you one last chance to change your mind. When you hold firm, he continues on, and a small firework appears from his hand. It's nothing like normal fireworks, and there isn't any noise to go with it, but it's beautiful nonetheless. You stare in awe at the firework, and Solomon slimes and your wonder. He sets off a couple more, careful to keep them small.

It's a sweet gesture, even if you know something like this takes barely any effort on his part. Once you've gotten used to the visual of the fireworks, he adds in a little sound effect as well. It's quiet, but you still hear it. The first one makes you jump a bit, but you assure Solomon that it's okay, and he continues on.

Eventually, you tell Solomon that you'd like to try and go out again. He questions you, making sure it's absolutely what you want, and you reassure him that it is. He leads you back to the main room, and the fireworks are still in full swing. Going from dark and quiet to bright and loud is overwhelming at first, but with Solomon next to you, you were able to calm yourself. Once you were calm, you find a bit of courage and look up at the fireworks.

They are absolutely stunning. You can't help but be entranced by the beauty of the fireworks, and not even the noise can distract you from the visual. While you're looking at the fireworks, Solomon is looking at you. He's so proud of you. It's a small step for some, but a big one for you. Solomon would do absolutely anything to help you, even if it's something as simple as creating a few fireworks.

#obey me solomon #shall we date obey me #obey me #flufftober #flufftober 2023 #obey me fluff #obey me scenarios #obey me headcanons #solomon headcanons #solomon x reader #gender neutral reader #obey me mc #gender neutral mc

46 notes · View notes

actualbird · 28 days

Text

fandom project ramblings: so im trying my hand out at recording podfic!!! ive always wanted to try but ive always been insecure about my voice, but what better way to exposure therapy myself to be Okay with my voice than to read out loud fanfic i love ;w;

im starting out with my buddy ace's fic, "marry-us von hagen" (go read it if you havent!!! i HIGHLY rec it) and ive been having a blast so far because that fic's rapid fire banter and sweet feelsy romance is SO fun to read out loud. im still in the midst of recording!!

i finished recording half the fic (and adding mood-appropriate tot ost bgm as effects) and i'll record the other half tomorrow. but behold! half a fic read out loud in my voice :D

obviously you cant hear this image, but for funsies, here a zak actualbird voice reveal ehe

anyhoo, i also need your help, dear reader who follows my blog and saw this post! im thinking of creating a new ao3 pseud just for podfics i'll do, and im torn

(obviously based on my regular ao3 username, reptilianraven)

#dootdootdoot #so far editing has been going swimmingly because my sister gave me a THOROUGH tutorial on how to use audacity

9 notes · View notes

toointojoelmiller · 15 days

Text

🦒🦋🦒hello tumblr people 🦋🦒🦋

just dropping a lil personal note which feels weird but

I can't make gifs on my current computer set up which makes me sad lol. it was so fun. I am also missing writing and posting my lil fics sooo much. ur girl is strugglin

and it's extremely hard for me to make progress on writing right now. I'm still swimmin my way through the constant chronic stress fog and PTSD shit and I am doing ~*~Better*~* in that I'm medicated and not actively crying 24/7 and I'm going to work full time again, but the coping is a struggle, the executive dysfunction is a struggle, the getting up to walk around if I'm not at work is a struggle, and work is about as demanding as it has been which uh, not chill. ... lots more I don't even feel like complaining about cause the bottom line is it all sucks ass lmao. you get the jist.

Please understand that my stories aren't abandoned, I pick away at them every night, I literally fantasize about being able to have the time to write enough to be making faster progress. I am so excited for where they are going and I have so much planned, and i just.. my brain noodle got cooked for too long.

my job involves pretty regular exposure to vicarious trauma and straight ass trauma ... so writing traumatic fic is hard sometimes too. (even tho I love it lol and sometimes it feels like therapy)

long story short, I am very good at twisting myself up in knots over what i imagine another person might feel and I know a lot of people have loyally followed please don't go and enjoyed it. I loved getting to interact so much and update so frequently, it was a huge source of fun and happiness for me that i loved for months and months! so I miss it, and it really sucks to feel like I'm leaving people hanging now.

but right now I just really need to focus on making sure i get don't get depressed again (mentally ill ones will know🤘) .

and I'm also very particular and when I rush out a chapter I never like how it turned out so.. I'm not gonna do that anymore. bleh. so... picture my future updates like a very small slug... very far away... crawlin but like give it a while

#let me cook #mental health #personal #not that i actually expect anyone to read this lmao #i love writing fan fiction #sorry

11 notes · View notes

warabola · 3 months

Note

Top 5 lore areas of interest?

Oh no this is actually so hard to narrow down. Oh man. How do I even start to put this succinctly.

If I was going to give a real quick and simple answer, trying to avoid anything too specific or abstract:

TL;DR

Death in the extended setting

The unknowable depths of the zee

The workings and implications of advanced skills (and the professions associated with them)

The impact of prolonged exposure to the Neath, and other non-Sol laws on biology/physiology

The history and politics of devils

(...That's still specific and abstract I'm sorry everyone.)

Longer version ft. incoherent rambling and heavy spoilers to follow:

Death: What the fuck is the far shore. Why can't I get a proper answer. If we're eaten by stars if we die where their light touches and eaten by the God Kings if we die under moonlight then what is the far shore and what is eating us over there. Why does the boatman exist. Why is the greatest shame there under the river and what was it. What are the implications of the rivers connected to Death, including the one through the Waswood? Why is there casually an alternative to death and why is it turning into a moth. Who was the Boatman prior to the Naturalist's arc? i'm going to scream.

The Zee: Alright. Fun warabola lore! I had thalassophobia at one point in time, particularly regarding the really deep seas. But I am nothing if not stubborn, and my response to any irrational fear is to try and rationalize it and confront it face on. It's likely not the best response to forcibly expose myself to the things that cause me distress but I was determined to do so and, well. Do nothing in halves. Hyperfixate on your worst nightmares, play Subnautica with an audience that goads you into going deeper even when you're panicking, learn everything you can, and you too could end up microdosing exposure therapy until your wires cross! Subnautica and Sunless Seas are now some of my favourite games. I'm quite obsessed with every new horrifying thing we discover about the zee. I cannot possibly get enough of it. Old Fitz and the diving bell part of Evolution are some of my favourite recent writing in Fallen London.

Advanced Skills/Professions: You might've seen me rambling about the implications of silverers and crooked crosses recently, but the advanced skills really are fascinating. The specific details and mechanics are especially interesting, be it Glasswork (Mind Palaces, the ability of Parabola to influence the waking world via dreams, the ability to travel through time and space as implied by Caduceus, the effects on a human body if the mirror is broken mid-traversing-) or Kataleptic Toxicology (bottling of the most specific and profound emotions, Station VII, Licentiates' capabilities, the fact that you train it/research it by repeatedly dosing yourself to death sdfsfdd). The mind-map I made regarding the connections between different professions and specializations is like the tip of the ranting iceberg.

The impact of prolonged exposure to the Neath etc etc: Who isn't interested in this. What are tomb colonists and frost moths. Why does that happen. What are the specific details regarding how the sun smites us if we step onto the surface. Why does Yearning, Burning happen. What is the effect of time-anachronism and can it be replicated by humans with the Rose Giveth. Answer me, Failbetter.

Devils: I will be honest, this is less about Hell and more about all the other weirdness and politics going on with them, as well as the history regarding Caduceus and how they're like chefs for the stars and Mount Palmerston and the Brazen Brigade and the Iron Republic and the physiology of Grand Devils and their unique language and how they're.... they're really fancy bees. They are so weird and interesting. Tell me more.

#ask games #i cannot even remember when this was from i'm so sorry #i love the deep lore and playing thought experiments regarding the mechanics and implications of these fantastic concepts #i could rant about any of these subjects at the drop of a hat

8 notes · View notes

play-rough · 5 months

Note

do you have any age regression/non sexual age play tropes you'd like to try out in the future? or any squicks or things you don't personally prefer?

In theory I can be paid to do anything, so the following answer ultimately means nothing

I would say the only hard no for me is diapers and then like, poop. I get enough of that at work.

But also, diapers used to be a hard no close out of the fic for me, but now it’s like a soft no. I can skim past it or if the rest of the writing is good trust that I’m not about to be thrown into some weird uncomfortable scene. I don’t think I’ll ever include that stuff in the works that I’m doing for ✨me✨just bc if it’s up to personal preference that’s not really my jam. Exposure therapy is not the right term to use but also it kinda is, I’m less uncomfortable of the idea of diapers now and I think if prompted to I could use them like a tool in a fic respectfully. I think that’s really the only stuff I think twice about, I can’t really think of anything else.

As far as stuff I want to do I have many dreams of Dazai being pushed in a stroller, bucked into a car seat, what are those swing things that rock automatically… so many scenarios I have a long list of stuff for both classification au and just general agere fics, I have a list of places that Chuuya’s eventually gonna take Dazai, including restaurant and aquarium

And I guess I’m not super into older headspaces, just because the stuff that I like is like the clumsy baby stuff and the 100% trust and reliance, and it just doesn’t quite hit the same with older kid stuff, but I would like to branch out in the future just bc older kids are interested in different things and it would be fun to write like a camping trip or something that a baby wouldn’t enjoy but a 5-7 year old would idk idk, many ideas for the future

#i don’t know if i actually answered your question or not #when i read the phrase ‘agere trope’ all my brain supplied was BOTTLE #💌

13 notes · View notes

vaguely-yandere · 2 years

Note

chamiiiiiiiiiii!!! :(((( ily ily ty for not being annoyed at my frequent and long asks <33 its so nice having someone to talk to about these things!! anyways...

you got me thinking about sensitive darling all over again!! (what else is new sunny! get ur mind out of the gutter smh smh)

imagine surprising them from behind... wrapping your arms teasingly around their waist and leaning your head on their shoulder! blowing hot air on their ear... peppering little kisses on their cheek.... one hand sneakily makes its way down to their pants... poor thing cant help but grind against you! your scent is overriding their senses and clouding their mind! they're starting to sweat (oh no, do you notice? they hope not....) and pant and they let out a surprised squeak when your hand makes contact with their super sensitive spots!! cumming prematurely is so cute... you barely did anything to them!! you insist they ride out their orgasm on your hand....grind on it!!

they're sobbing at this point but do what you say anyways <333 they're out of their mind with pleasure, what a cutie.... <333 make sure to whisper lots of reassurance and praise into their ear!! they've plunged themselves into a subspace in record time, all they can think about in the little dreamland of theirs is you, you, YOU!! touch their chest too... kiss the shell of their ears... overwhelm them...

make them submit completely to you...<3

(jk! sensitive yan cant even get w in 2 feet of you without breaking >:( we gotta work on their exposure therapy some more smh smh. until then, this stays a daydream for them! too bad! hehe <3)

-sunny <3

poor sensitive yan!!! just this daydream would get them through so many exposure therapy sessions and overstim sessions

i think their new 'therapy' tactic would be a form of exposure but they realized a while ago they couldnt stop themselves from cumming when they even get too close to you (for a while, just your scent could get them off, poor thing :() so they decided to just work on not getting overstimulated easily! theyd buy a bunch of pedilayte, gatorade and water bottles and spend hours in their room, touching themselves and making themselves cum over and over and over again, until they give themselves carpal tunnel and when theyre recovering from that (whats the point of their hands if they cant please you with them?!)they discover other ways of pleasuring themselves. sex toys, sex machines, theyve already sold most of their possessions to fuel their obsession with you (good quality cameras are so expensive!! lucky theres yandere reselling shops!) so theyve got cash to spare! they get everything. they wanted to try chastity stuff but decided to keep that one unused until you're there to see their desperation for you. they vaguely entertained the idea for when theyre stalking you or planning on getting close but the idea of doing that without anyone else knowing just turned them off. besides, itd ruin all their overstim progress so far!

they end up developing some strong muscles from riding toys, fucking into them, from clenching their muscles so hard from cumming over and over. they like the toys that wiggle the most, the ones that vibrate are too much right now and the ones that dont have any motors just dont do anything wont they lose all function. the ones that dont move however are good on making sure they have enough stamina to please you before completely passing out from pleasure and the ones that vibrate are good for more intense sessions.

its so much fun imagining them slumped on the side of their bed, drooling on their sheets and barely able to keep themselves up as a toy slowly moves in and out of the, the motor quietly whirring, barely audible over their tired moans and panting and the squelching noises from lube/cum.

and them shakily trying to ride a dildo??? ADORABLE!! hands braced in front of them, thighs practically vibrating from the strain, them desperately trying to keep going and stay coherent enough to keep engaging their muscles. dont worry, they wont overwork themselves too hard! but it is funny imagining them slumping forward, groaning and getting drool + cum all over their floor. and just imagine their squeal when they manage to lift themselves off their toy!!! so cute!!

and you know they had to buy a gag almost immediately after their first time using anything that vibrates, having one of the most intense orgasms of their life when the toy finally turns on, back arching off their bed, kinda like a demon lol

and imagining them desperately grinding into a toy, trying their hardest to fuck it like it was you, whining and whimpering the entire time. at first they were just so embarrassed, what would you even say if you caught them like this? but as they get more into it and their muscles are aching and they can barely keep their eyes open, theyre just barely pressing their hips into the toy, until eventually falling asleep/passing out and waking up with the embarrassing fantasy of falling asleep inside of you.

if they have afab anatomy, they manage to last a lot longer than a amab yandere but then they discover they can have a toy for themselves while using a strap (they feel a bit silly for not realizing that sooner and also for fucking a toy into a toy) and they end up the exact same as the amab yandere, a complete puddle.

and if they continue their overstim sessions after getting with you? so cute!! imagine walking in on them in any of these scenarios and lovingly taking care of them, rehydrating them, cleaning them up all while teasing them (but flattered they thought of this) and them waking up, barely coherent and reaching for you, making grabby hands and smiling.

"did... did i do good...?" they'll slur, leaning on you

"you did perfect, love."

#sunny darling #yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #asks #yandere imagines #yandere x y/n #yandere smut

171 notes · View notes

cryscal · 3 months

Text

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

Thanks for the tag @thevulcanbobdylan! 💕 No cringe whatsoever, I love this game!

I briefly debated whether to go with my last 10 fics in the order I posted them on AO3, which are all BSG '04, or to go in the order of when I wrote them, in which case some of my Yuletide fics would sneak in. I went with the former because I'm too brain-tired right now to sort out when I wrote what. 😆

So here they are, pretty much all Adama/Roslin, though you can't always tell that by the first line...

💖💖💖

The Last Dance - My first BSG fic, written when I was waiting impatiently for season 2 to start.

"Download, print or toss, download, print or toss—Gods, I hate this."

First Glimpses - A not-especially-IC but still fun piece I wrote in response to a photo challenge.

Laura Roslin clicked along the corridors of Galactica, her stride even more determined than usual.

Gods' Gift - Sequel to "The Last Dance," equal portions of angst and heat spiced with a jot of humor.

"You did not." "I did." "You absolutely did not." "I assure you, Madam President, I did."

Zeus Descends, Hera Rises - My response to the demand for tent sex fic after "Home part 2" aired. 😏

It is a deeply moving and arresting moment, the stuff of which legends are made.

Doc Cottle's Day After - and a piece set right after ZDHR, pretty much all humor this time.

Major Cottle was pleased. Normally he had to go from reminding to ordering to badgering before people would grudgingly come to sickbay for the medical debriefing required of all personnel after exposure to a strange planetary environment.

Essence - As the tag says, "enough pining to build a two-story cabin"

He didn't ask. He surely knew, but he didn't ask.

Gossip - A trope-tastic romp capped with some of my choicest smut.

Lieutenant Louanne "Kat" Katraine was clearing the decks.

Alternative Therapies - In which the angst of "Essence" segues into some amusing complications.

"This is officially the damnedest thing I have ever seen." Doctor Cottle made his pronouncement in his usual pack-a-day rasp.

B is for Boxing - Written for the adama_roslin LJ comm's alphabet challenge ... jeebus, 16 years ago. 🤯

"Thank you, Lieutenant Gaeta." Laura Roslin smiled as she returned the young man's conscientious salute. Stepping off the ramp of her shuttle, she glanced around. "Did the Admiral get caught in CIC again?" Bill tried to meet her arrivals whenever ship's business didn't detain him.

The Commander's Eyes - A gift fic for someone who wanted an A/R piece from the POV of Billy Keikeya, Laura's chief aide.

Billy Keikeya was nothing if not observant.

So as far as patterns go, I apparently tend to start with either short, straightforward sentences or dialogue. Though the first line of ZDHR breaks that mold a bit.

For tagging, I'm going with @fracktastic, @searider--falcon, @seariderfalcon, @sjwashere, @lalalauraroslin, and anyone who wants to have fun with this, because I have lost track of which of my moots have already been tagged. 😁 No pressure either way!

#tag game #tagging game #fanfic #fan fiction #first lines

3 notes · View notes

emetophobiahelp · 8 months

Note

so i know it's kinda stupid but i wanted to share, i've been to literally hundreds of concerts in the pit and yesterday someone v* next to me at one. surprisingly enough, i didn't freak out as bad as i expected. i moved away because it was obviously gross (most people around me had the same reaction) but it didn't ruin the night for me. it was also probably the fact that i couldn't hear it and that i knew it was most likely just beer and wouldn't be contagious (hopefully!), but anyway, just a small win :)

That's fantastic!! Especially in a situation like that, where you're doing something fun that you enjoy and being able to push past it and not let it ruin your night is seriously SUCH a victory, thank you for sharing! I think it's definitely a sign that you are improving, and able to stay calm and think logically about it in a situation like that is definitely something to be proud of!

(and I do really think about how it happens much less often than we think. I work at a major theme park and yes, it's happened before around me, but honestly it's much less common than I thought it would be before I started working there, and the few incidents I have had have only served to remind me how far I've come, and also as a bit of exposure therapy haha)

anyway thank you again for sharing!

14 notes · View notes

forlorn-crows · 4 months

Note

I’m sorry it’s hard, it fucking sucks and that frustration you feel is the worst. May I offer you a hug (or high five or existing in the same room as support) and some if your favourite snacks?

Something that sometimes works for me is pretending I’m undercover. No one really knows about the thing I’m stuck on (fluff, angst, a certain kink, nbs, autism, women) and this fic is part of the effort to enlighten people. Then the reason I feel internalised misogyny/shame/queerphobia/bad things is because of the Situation. Somehow that bypasses some of the blocks in my brain temporarily and I can write.

The whole skip-and-come-back-to-the-scene-you’re-stuck-on is a classic for a reason too ofc

I’m cheering you on and I’m proud of you 💚

thank you, so much. ive been trying to challenge myself to keep writing femslash, because i dont write it very often. even though i love to read it, in hopes that by writing it more it becomes less . . . scary i guess. and its no fun when the girls dont get as much attention as the boys. even when paired with the boys they still dont, and its not fair.

i overthink wayyy to much with femslash too. far more than i do with m/m stuff (even though i overthink w that too lmao). so im trying the exposure therapy route lmao

thanks for the advice <3 hopefully youll start to see more girls from me, and i hope maybe others can jump on it too. they deserve it!

#ask #jimothybarnes

3 notes · View notes

ptsd-phoenix · 2 months

Text

22 april 2024 - have a feeling this will be venty

I have that feeling cause I just started dissociating as I opened this. Maybe I already did before. Am I forgetting why I wanted to make this post? It's getting harder to breathe? Why? What a strange feeling. Overwhelming. Fear in my arms again. Let me move my body around and come back to this. Maybe get a sour candy. Smell a scent stick.

It helped a bit. I have a little spiky ball and I grabbed a plushie to hug. The sour candy was nice. My head started hurting though. I'm still feeling triggered. I don't really know why.

I've not been able to write much on here cause I keep dissociating too much or feel too triggered. I don't remember what the last thing I wrote was..

It makes sense though. Even though I've been very lucky with lot's of rain and cloudy weather!! The plants still grow though, perhaps even more with all the water. Sometimes the rain makes them emit more scent. Like the earth itself will smell. I still don't know what the sources are for the scents that trigger me. It's likely a cocktail of many different things.

I find it hard to actually stand still and face the triggers instead of rushing and trying to get away faster. I've tried standing still and it just keeps building up and up and it makes me want to give up before it starts decreasing, though I did it today too and I focused really hard on grounding and it felt like I had at least taken the edge of. But yeah I am surely avoiding it, I guess I don't feel strong enough to bear the pain perhaps. Or well, it's normal to want to go away from pain. At least I still take my dog for walks and walk through the areas where the scents are bad.

I also said to my therapist last week I felt the trauma I wanted to process that session wasn't bad enough to warrant processing. She replied saying that if that were the case we could start the processing and if we discovered it was no big deal for me then I would be feeling fine and we could just do something else. Obviously it was a big deal for me. I did partly process some triggers during the EMDR as well.

It also makes sense because a big triggering holiday is coming up this week. I've been sensing it's approach for some weeks now. I will do exposure during it. Actually.. it might be good to process that in my next therapy session too. Let me look something up in my trauma diary.. (not the best idea, I admit)

I ended up reading the whole diary. It makes me see how far I have come in my healing. Comparing my current situation to back then. That is hopeful.

Someday, a future me will be reading these journal entries. And they will think what I think now: "wow, I've improved so much compared to the past"

Hope.

This is but a moment in time. A painful journey to travel.

On a brighter side. I purchased VIP tickets to go see a concert and get my album signed and meet the artists. This year is a good concert year for sure. Going to concerts by myself opens up a lot of fun experiences.

I have also been working on my sleeping schedule as much as I've been able to hold myself accountable. Which is why right now I need to turn off my pc and get into bed. I've purchased a white noise machine and I've been using multiple different sound options to fall asleep. It really does make me feel safer in bed. It's a noticeable difference.

I can do this. Being triggered might make it feel like the world is standing still but this is just another day among many. The sun will set and rise again.

Dissociation doesn't last forever. It comes and goes. I will feel fully grounded again. I wont feel this way forever. I wont get 'stuck in this setting'.

Even if my dreams wont be good I will wake up and get to experience a new day and my dreams can be forgotten again.

I can recharge in bed with my plushie. It's okay to feel scared. But there is no danger in bed. The music box will be there for a comforting melody. It will be okay.

#phoenix posts non poetry

5 notes · View notes