#purely self indulgent

[rwrbmovie]

firstprince + hands size difference

#rwrbedit #rwrb movie #red white and royal blue #rwrbsource #firstprinceedit #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #prince henry #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry #* #gifs #my gifs #purely self indulgent

[yrsonpurpose]

Alex has been learning for a while Henry isn’t what he thought, but it’s something else to feel it this close up, the quiet burn in him, the pent-up person under the perfect veneer who tries and pushes and wants.

#rwrb #rwrbedit #red white and royal blue #alex x henry #firstprince #userninz #userveronika #chrissiewatts #usersteen #usernuria #usermegsb #userclara #userkhael #mine* #i'm back here (well. i never left) #purely self indulgent #i never noticed the bounce in the 4th gif before.......... #HENRY SIR STAND UP #he was so down bad #i mean yeah. i get it. #4 years of pent up energy was let out here #henry likes to leave little bruises and alex likes to bite. #no i will not elaborate #and i love this quote about how alex is seeing things (read: henry) differently now #life lesson: not everyone is who they seem on the outside!!

[pseudophan]

+

#purely self indulgent #amazingphil #daniel howell #dan and phil #phan #mine #my gif

[lillastarr]

t4t sonadow my loves <333

#purely self indulgent #art #fanart #sonic #sonadow #shadow the hedgehog #sonadow fanart #t4t mlm #tumblr only post bc i just know insta would have my head on a stake if i posted this LMAO #cw needles

[desert-fern]

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day - Bradley Bradshaw X Reader

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw X Reader

Summary: When a bad day hits his girl hard, Bradley isn't one to let her suffer alone. So he does his best to help her out, even if that involves laying on top of her.

Warnings: Bradley being a sweetie, sensory overload, cuddles, a little angst, Bradley Bradshaw (because come on, that man is a warning unto himself), also barely proof-read and purely self-indulgent...

Word Count: 2200

===

The car door slammed shut behind you as you clenched your jaw in effort not to cry. Today had been horrid; losing your favourite water bottle somewhere between the house and work, no parking where you needed there to be, and on top of it all, your boss, blaming you for a mistake on a project that wasn’t yours to begin with. It was enough to drag even the brightest, happiest person down, and while you weren’t that person, you certainly tried to keep a positive mindset. 

But today just flat out sucked. All you wanted to do was curl up in bed in your pyjamas and your boyfriend’s t-shirt that you always stole, but life couldn’t be that easy. The house was still a mess from breakfast, a hasty affair due to the fact that your alarm didn’t go off, and it had to be cleaned up before you could even think about dinner. On top of that, Bradley wasn’t home. It was late for the both of you to be arriving home, and his absence just made the lump in your throat just that much bigger. 

You made it in the door, dropping your bags on the hardwood in the front entryway and just letting out a strangled huff, the only expression of your overstimulation that you could muster. It was like everything was too much and not enough all at once. And not in a good way. The sound of the now-falling rain pattering on the window panes had you gritting your teeth, trying desperately to hold it together long enough to change out of your work clothes. At least you weren’t caught out in the downpour. 

Closing your eyes in a frantic attempt to keep your wits about you, you navigated upstairs, flopping backwards on the unmade bed that you knew would make Bradley cringe. God knows why you had to fall for a Navy man. He could be a neat freak when he wanted to be and while he usually wasn’t, the bed was the one thing that could make a whiskey-coloured eye twitch. It was the last thing you needed. Yet another thing on the list, another item precariously thrown onto the comically large pile of stuff to do that you were struggling to balance. 

Your breath punched out of you, heart pounding in your ears as your clothes felt too tight on your body. Everything was just too much. 

Too loud. 

Too quiet. 

Too bright. 

Too… everything. 

“Fuuuuccckkk…” you whined, covering your eyes with your shaking hands. Your chest clenched, body struggling to reorient itself as you cried. 

Your mom and sister had told you that sometimes a good cry fixed everything, and right now, you were really hoping that they were right because everything was going wrong. But the lights were too much, so begrudgingly and painfully slowly, you made your way over to the light switch, flipping it off and collapsing back onto your bed, letting the tears flow. 

You relinquished your control on your feelings and just cried. Your head hurt, your chest ached as you tried to take in another breath into your desperate, air-starved lungs. “Why today?” You mumbled, burying your face into Bradley’s pillow. His scent was still clinging to the fabric, offering you some small relief in the smell of your apple body wash and his cedar and bergamot shampoo. 

God you just needed Bradley here. Needed him to hold you close, just wrap you up in a tight hug where the world wouldn’t be so loud, where you could just forget about the shit you had endured all day. That was all. 

You didn’t know how long you had laid there or when your tears had stopped, but you had. And your chest just ached, both from crying and the numbness that was settling into you like storm clouds gathering in a valley. The world was still too noisy. Too bright even as you lay in the dark, still wearing your work clothes and your body half-hanging off the bed. 

It was at this moment that your boyfriend came barging into the room, flicking the light on, humming some random song. Bradley had no idea you were in there. He knew you were home, but he honestly had no idea where you were, but figured that changing was probably his best move before he found you. 

It was enough for you to groan, tears welling in your eyes once more. You had been so close to sleep. So damn close. And then your handsome, loveable, oaf of a boyfriend just had to make noise. 

“Babe? What’s going on?” Bradley had just stripped off his flight suit, changing into a clean t-shirt when he’d heard your muffled groan. He found you curled up on the bed, head half under his pillow and still dressed in your work clothes, which was odd for you. You usually tossed your work clothes off the second you could. Something about taking off the day’s events with your blouse and bra. So he knew immediately that something was wrong. 

“Babe?” Bradley was loud, even his questioning tone was too much. It felt like pieces of sandpaper rubbing together, a coarse scraping sound that seemed to resonate in the air around. It was just too much.

“Itstoomuch,” you moaned, cursing yourself for the tears falling down your face yet again. “‘S too loud.” 

Bradley paused, mind whirring on how he could help. “How can I help?” He whispered, kneeling on the edge of the bed. “Babe.” 

“Clothes,” you mumbled, rolling onto your back. You kept his pillow over your face, trying to block out the light. “Help, please.” 

He nodded, moving as quietly as he could around the bed so he was closer to you. Fingers slipped the buttons of your shirt from the button holes, trying not to touch you more than necessary. Bradley knew that you got overstimulated sometimes and one of the first conversations the two of you had had when you had started living together was about how he could help when this inevitably happened. 

When the last button slipped free, Bradley set about pulling a t-shirt of his over your head, moving the pillow just enough to slip it on. Your bra was unclasped and tossed behind him, and normally when that happened, you couldn’t get enough of him. Couldn’t get enough of his large hands roaming your body, the gentle, teasing scrape of his mustache against the sensitive skin… but that wasn’t today. And your absolute gem of a boyfriend knew that from one glance. You didn’t deserve him, not when he was clearly exhausted from work and was taking care of you. It was enough to make you start crying again, making your boyfriend freeze. 

“Babe? What’s going on?” Bradley was concerned, well, more concerned than he already was. “What’s wrong?” 

You mumbled something, but because the pillow was in the way, he understood none of what you had said. So he reached for his pillow, gently pulling it away, and immediately noting the tear stains on your face, the puffiness of your eyes and his heart sank. How long? 

“What was that?” He whispered, trying to get answers but also trying his best to keep his voice down. “Babe, I didn’t hear what you said.” 

“You don’t have to… do all this,” you replied, tears still leaking from your eyes. 

“‘Course I do, babe. You’re my girl, and my girl isn’t feeling good.” His amber eyes were full of concern, tracking the tears rolling off your cheeks and his mouth was drawn into a line. All Bradley wanted to do was help, but he didn’t know what you needed right now. “I’m staying here. So what do you need?”

“Can you lay on top of me?” 

“What?” Bradley blinked at you. “Honey, I’d squish you.” 

The idea made you crack a small smile. “It’s hard to explain, okay? Weighted blankets are supposed to help with this…” you trailed off, gesturing up and down your body. “And we don’t have one, so can you lay on top of me?” 

“I’m going to get you out of your work pants first because they can’t be comfortable, and then… I guess I’m laying on top of you?” He rubbed at his jaw, looking unsure before doing just as he said he would. 

Bradley knelt on the bed, knee-walking up a little higher before he stretched out, slowly pressing his weight on top of you, pausing as you started to giggle, which made him chuckle. “You okay, babe?” He asked, looking quite amused by the whole situation. Maybe half his total weight was on top of you, the rest kept off of you as he propped himself up on his elbows, watching your face try and school itself back into a neutral expression. 

Once you’d stopped giggling, Bradley lowered himself all the way down on top of you. He felt you sigh, your head turning into the crook of his neck. Bradley wouldn’t admit it, but he felt a little ridiculous laying on top of you like a dead fish, but if it helped you feel better, then he would do it a million times over. “Is this helping?” He mumbled, feeling you try and wiggle underneath him. 

“Mmhmm,” you hummed. And it was. The pressure was comforting, grounding and it made you feel like the world wasn’t suffocating you anymore. All you could feel was the soothing weight of your boyfriend on top of you, and his slow, steady breathing that helped slow your own breathing down. “Thank you B.” 

You could feel him smile into your neck. “Good.” A beat, then he spoke again. “Can I hold you now?” He’d propped himself up on his elbows again, allowing himself to look you in the eyes. “C’mon babe. Let me cuddle my girl.” 

Heaving a sigh, you nodded, watching him roll off of you onto his side. Bradley settled himself before making grabby hands in your direction, grinning as you rolled your eyes and shuffled into his arms. He pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you. One hand held the base of your neck, fingers weaving up into your hair, while the other curled around your lower back and finding its home on your bare hip under the t-shirt. “Happy?” You mumbled into his skin, inhaling the scent that was so uniquely him, before pulling back and wrinkling your nose at him. “You stink.” 

He laughed. “Well now I’m not happy because my girl wants to leave me,” Bradley complained dramatically, abruptly letting you go and rolling away. “I lay down on top of her and this is the thanks I get? Unbelievable!” 

His dramatics made you laugh as you pulled him back over to face you. “Bradley! Come on!” You were laughing too hard to get a good grip on his arm and you fell back onto the bed beside him, hearing him try and stifle his own giggles at your feeble attempt to pull him over. “Honey, come on! I’m sorry!” 

Bradley’s shoulders shook with silent laughter as you tried yet again to get him to face you, laughing all the while. It was in sharp contrast from how he’d found you some 20 minutes earlier, but you were clearly feeling better. So when you pulled at his arm again, he rolled over suddenly, laughing at your sudden shriek. Light was back in your eyes and the only tears falling were those of joy as you giggled at him. It made him grin widely before reaching over to pull you on top of him. 

You watched Bradley grin and you couldn’t help yourself, ducking down to peck him on the lips quickly before trying to clamber off him and the bed as quickly as you could. However, you didn’t get far. Bradley’s arms shot out, catching you around the hips and pulling you back onto the bed. 

“Where do you think you’re going, babe? Hmmm?” His teasing grin made you blush, but you bit your lip in an attempt to push it away. 

But then he rolled so that you were under him, as he held himself up by his hands. “I don’t know,” you mumbled, smiling up at him. You would never get over how pretty Bradley was. Even in the darkness surrounding you both, you knew that you could picture his face as perfectly as you would have with the lights on. 

“Running away from me…” he trailed off, before peppering kisses all over your face and neck, making you squeal and try in vain to push him off of you. 

“Bradley!” You shrieked. “I didn’t mean it!” His lips were everywhere; kissing your nose, cheeks, your jaw, but not your lips. So you caught his face, drawing him in for a sweet kiss. You poured your thanks into the gesture, hoping he understood just how much he’d helped. 

And he did. Bradley had promised himself to be there anytime he could when you needed him. Even if that took him laying down on top of you like he had on a day like today. A terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day. 

===

A/N: This was my first Bradley-centric piece! It was born out of the full day of sensory overload that I had and life suck, but, art imitates life so please be nice! Thanks for reading!

Tagging some people who might be interested: @cherrycola27 @roosterforme @horseshoegirl @lovinglyeternal @sarahsmi13s @startrekfangirl2233 @dakotakazansky @bradleybeachbabe @roosterbruiser @seresinsweetie @footprintsinthesxnd @roosters-girl @thedroneranger

#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw imagines #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fluff #purely self indulgent

[latapadraws]

my favorite gorls

#purely self indulgent #skk #bsd skk #dazai osamu #bsd memes #osamu dazai #chuuya nakahara #nakahara chuuya #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd chuuya #soukoku #bsd #nb lesbians #lesbians #nonbinary #enby #myart

[nanocados]

Yknow, SY. You have two hands. For a reason. Who says you HAVE to choose? :3

#svsss #luo binghe #liu qingge #shen qingqiu #bingliushen #bingliu #bingqiu #liushen #modern au #except I’d rather die than give them short hair #sorry not sorry #lqg’s bangs are shorter #if that counts #shen yuan are you okay #shen yuan #nya #throuple #purely self indulgent

[patovpran]

#damn

#purely self indulgent #only friends #only friends the series #mond tanutchai #moji gifovi #gmmtv

[gomzdrawfr]

#gummmyart #doodle #im incredibly sick rn can u tell #purely self indulgent #i wanna nuzzle into a big warm chest when im sick too :( #anyways #oc #my oc #my oc art #cod oc #cod oc art #[oc]Raven #Raven[oc] #captain john price #john price #oc x john price #john price x oc

[frenchfriedgiraffe]

i promise this will be the only autistic dirk post i will make (lie)

but i will try my best not to flood any tags with autistic dirk stuff… i think i might just leave the very self indulgent stuff untagged? idk

anyways… happy autism acceptance week, starting today!

#look i know this is kinda cringe #but it makes me happy #dirk gently #autistic dirk gently #purely self indulgent #i will add alt text when i wake up tomorrow #world autism day #my art

[cloudcutter]

SMILE FOR THE CAMERA - p. sunghoon

in which you don’t believe sunghoon could have feelings for you so you challenge him to prove it before you both graduate

- student!sunghoon x student!reader

- rivals(entirely one sided) to lovers

- smau with lots of written inclusions

featuring: enhypen members, ryujin of itzy, soobin of txt, wonyoung of ive, vague mentions of other idols i like as background characters

warnings: probably some lame humor, swearing, potentially inappropriate jokes (they’re high schoolers what do u expect), sunghoon has no game, everyone makes fun of him and jake bc they’re losers (affectionate), ryujin is gay bc she’s my wife, wonyoung and sunghoon are bffs bc jangkku heart said so. lmk if there’s more!

taglist: send an ask to be added !!

start: 15122022

end:

status: ongoing!

update schedule: at minimum, two days a week

author note: hi this is my first work and my first smau like literally ever ??? i’m super nervous to post this but i’ve had this idea in my head for the longest time? i wanted to write a whole fic but i thought making it a weird written + smau combo would help my writing process a little bit and help avoid writers block … so i’m gonna try and hopefully finish this !! please enjoy :D i also have never posted much on tumblr so i truly have no clue what i’m doing … so um i hope this works. be patient with me please :))

PROFILES

y/n’s models (the gorls) (everyone else) | 02z hate club (the 02z) (niki + the gays)

PROLOGUE: park sunghoon’s challenge

CHAPTER LIST:

chapter 1 - grave mistake

chapter 2 - tame first dates

chapter 3 - sunghoon has one fear

chapter 4 - kinda mid?

chapter 5 - stay strong !!!

chapter 6 - for me to make me happy

chapter 7 - another study date (?)

chapter 8 - feeling threatened by one choi soobin

chapter 9 - sunoo is mr. steal ur girl

chapter 10 - who want me *silence*

chapter 11 - new project

chapter 12 - lemme see lover boy

chapter 13 - you are incredible

chapter 14 - sunghoon x a brick wall ?

chapter 15 - not so incredible now

chapter 16 - call me wony <3

chapter 17 - going bonkers bananas

chapter 18 - new best friend !!!

chapter 19 - later hoon :)

chapter 20 - bae this isn’t ur priv

chapter 21 - yeonjun’s rager

chapter 22 - odi misses his aunt D:

chapter 23 - welcome to the club

chapter 24 - wonie misses the drama

chapter 25 - cocky, stuck up jerk

#enhypen #smau #sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon smau #enhypen fanfiction #enha x reader #please i don’t know what i’m doing #tumblr is stressful but this has been on my brain for so long #sftc smau #sunghoon x yn #sunghoon x you #school au #high school au #i just like clowning on jake sim #sunghoon is my favorite jock idiot dork #purely self indulgent

[redwingedwolvesafterdark]

For all my pre-op transmascs this is your reminder that your F/O would never, ever push your boundaries in regards to physical aspects of yourself that you don't like being touched/perceived.

Dysphoria is a bitch, but especially when it comes to particularly noticeable features that you can't always easily hide without the proper means. Your F/Os would never question your want/need for these features to be ignored. In fact they're more than happy to do whatever they need to to make sure you are always comfortable.

And this goes double/triple for when you guys are intimate. Hate a particular body part and don't want it touched during sex? No problem, they'll do their best to avoid it. Don't like the look of something so you want to keep certain clothes on? Sure! They don't mind at all! They'll work with you to make sure you're both as comfortable as possible while still getting the most out of the experience!

Your F/Os adore you and they want you to be as comfortable in your own skin as much as possible. And even if that skin doesn't yet fully line up with the image of you in your head, they will still do what they can in the meantime. And if that means that they do their best to ignore certain parts of your then that is what they will do.

#selfship #self ship #proship selfship #proship self ship #selfship imagines #self ship imagines #f/o imagines #pro selfship #proselfship #selfproship #selfship proship #proship safe #proship #proshippers please interact #purely self indulgent #but i just felt like some other people might need it too

[sabellart]

i….yeah i have no excuse for making this

#purely self indulgent #but hey that’s what ocs are for #ti pikara #my ocs #sw ocs #sabeldraws #star wars #tcw #the clone wars #swr #sw rebels #sw fanart #pantoran #bounty hunter

[lightvixxen]

Eddie munson x insecure!bestfriend!reader

A/n:This is purely self-indulgent bc I needed some comfort lolz, also major vent post and its kinda personal bc this is actual stuff from my own vents lol, but I just needed to write Eddie comfort and ik there’s some plus sized ppl who feel the same<3

Warnings: degrading language(not the fun kind), insecurity, reader calls themselves names in their diary, negative self-talk,reader willing gets into a toxic arrangement, fluff…so much fluff, best friends to lovers, small angst but its hurt/comfort, small mentions of violence, Eddie just wants to harm the ppl that hurt you.

Summary: Eddie reads ur diary and need to show just how fucking wrong u are abt yourself.

Eddie had been in your room countless times, though this time, he was on a fucking mission. He had managed to convince you to go downstairs alone to grab some drinks, and he prayed it kept you occupied long enough for him to snoop.

You had been down the past few days and he needed to know why, unfortunately for him, you kept your mouth shut on your feelings, opting to change the subject every time he asked. Luckily for him though, you wrote down everything in a small blue notebook. Eddie grabbed the notebook out of its hiding place, flipping through its pages, he knew this was an invasion of privacy but damn it he was worried, sue him.

He stopped, finally coming to the most recent page, which had everything he needed to know.

September 19, 1987.

So, I went back to him…and I know what your thinking “why would you go back to someone who uses you?!”

Eddie already knew who and what you were talking about, had spent countless nights staying up with you as you sobbed into his shoulder about the boy who would never return your feelings and played you consistently. And spent countless nights fighting the urge to grab a fucking bat to go kill the son of a bitch. But he reads on.

Well, I’ll tell you, it’s because its what I think I deserve. I’ve kinda accepted my fate to the “fuckable but not datable” Role of my life. After all no one wants a fat ugly whore hanging off their arm.

God- Eddie wanted to both punch and hug you, you were absolutely perfect and beautiful, words couldn’t describe how much he wanted you. How much he wanted you hanging off his arm, contrary to your belief- you weren’t ugly, sure you were bigger than all the other girls, but that just meant more to love! He wanted to worship every part of your body. To show you off, show all the fuckers who said those nasty things to you what they were missing. And for fucks sake, you saw yourself as a whore?! You barely slept with anyone, and the people you did sleep with you had known for years!

I just- I just want someone to actually care, want someone to tell me they love me and mean it.

Eddie loved you, He loved you so fucking much even he, himself couldn’t believe it. He looked at you with so much adoration and love it was unbelievable how oblivious you were to him.

Nobody wants a nerd, no one wants a plus sized- or well fat, Plus size is only for the pretty ones, that of which I am not. Also no one wants baggage, or someone who’s clingy if they say they do they’re lying. Or i would have someone, pretty sure no one in this school would touch me with a 10ft pole. Lol jealous of the people who are wanted.

The entry ends and Eddie wants to cry, he hated the fact you talked about yourself like that. He wanted everything about you, he was fucking crazy over you. He wished he could make you see yourself the way he saw you. Because fuck- you were a goddess to him. He worships the fucking ground you walk on. He wanted to take you out on sappy dates, and treat you the way you deserve to be treated. Not the way you’ve been treated by your exes, he hated how they treated you like a fucking toy.

Eddie heard your heavy footsteps bounding up the stairs, he didn’t bother putting your diary away. He was going to shoot his fucking shot because damn it if that’s how you’ve been feeling he wanted to show you how fucking wrong you were.

“Okay I finally got- Eds…what the fuck?!” You almost dropped the two cans, seeing your best friend with your diary. It’s obvious he had read it, so fucking obvious in the way he was staring at you.

Eddie didn’t say anything as he gently closed the notebook. Didn’t say anything as he slowly got up from your bed. You thought he was going to run out, tell you everything you had thought was true, that this was the end to your friendship with Eddie. Instead, he crossed the room, walking towards you and before you knew it he was pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

“E-Eddie?!” You squeaked, arms hanging loosely at your sides. “God- your so fucking stupid you know that?! You talk so fucking negatively about yourself, while your oblivious to the way I look at you!” You were stunned, you couldn’t tell if he was comforting you or not.

But he continued, “you’re so fucking beautiful, and pretty and so fucking amazing, I want you to be the one hanging off my arm. Fuck- sweetheart I want everything about you.” Your face fell, more than it already could. You had heard that phrase so many times, and it only landed you being stranded in your sheets.

“Eddie- c’mon don’t play like that.” You murmured, even with the way he was hugging you, you couldn’t believe someone could ever want you outside of sex. “I’m not fucking playing!” He pulled back from you, a firm grip on your shoulders, he wanted to shake you until you realized he was telling the truth. “Sweetheart, I love you genuinely, every time- every single fucking time, you mention someone hurt you, or someone used you. I’ve had to fight the urge to kill a motherfucker for making you think like that.”

Tears slowly well up in your eyes. You knew Eddie, he didn’t joke about that kind of shit. Not after what happened last year. “Sweetheart-“ Eddie wiped your tears, “you don’t know how much I love you, I worship the fucking ground you walk on, I’ve written stupid love songs about how much I want you.” His eyes are locked on yours, letting you know just how serious he is about this. “You literally consume my every thought, all I think about is what your doing, what you feel, The way you laugh, the way you smile-“ Eddie hugged you once again. “God if I knew that’s what you were feeling I would’ve told you this ages ago, but…I’m absolutely crazy about you.”

And with that he kissed you, it was slow, passionate, letting you know just how much he meant every word. Every-time you tried to make it heated, tried to deepen the kiss he would pull away. He wasn’t gonna let your stupid insecurities and thoughts ruin the image you have of him.

#eddie munson #eddie x female reader #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #stranger things #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #small angst #purely self indulgent #eddie munson x you #best friend! eddie #best friend! eddie munson #kinda protective!Eddie #protective!Eddie

[smoshidiot]

cheeky bastard ❤️‍🩹

#purely self indulgent #i love early smosh!ian being annoying just for the sake of it #this mf WILL be loud even after anthony’s mom has gone to bed #💿 #ana draws #beardier half #ian hecox

[desert-fern]

I Just Need a Hug - Mickey Garcia X Reader

Pairing: Mickey Garcia X Reader

Summary: Your week has been awful; your boss is a dick, you're overworked, and you just want to scream. When your husband beats you home, you can only hope to keep it together long enough for you to handle it on your own. Unfortunately, Mickey has a different idea.

Warnings: your boss is a dick (a small dose of misogyny for added measure), Mickey being an absolute gem, cuddles, crying, bad days, barely proofread, again very self indulgent...

Word Count: 3k

===

Fucking men! You had had it up to the atmosphere with how done you are. In another spectacular combination of how much shit you could take, your day had sucked. Your supervisor, a middle aged man who was clearly done with life, had decided to make his problems your problems and now you were now stuck managing two entire labs as well as supervising your own projects. So it was only natural that your head was pounding as you pushed your way through the double doors leading to the parking garage. 

Everything hurt and you felt restless, like there were ants crawling under your skin. It was enough to make you shudder. You took a deep breath, blowing out the air and trying to get the proverbial monkey off your back. But it was no use. The monkey stayed stuck, and your mind continued to race through the endless possibilities of how you could have been better, how you could have been more organised, how everything seemed to fall at your feet. 

It just wasn’t fair. 

None of it was. You were good at your job, you wouldn’t have been promoted if you weren’t. So why then, did this one fucking man feel the need to belittle you and act like you were his emotional trash can? 

The thought was enough to make you cry as you drove home. Road noise blurred together with a stupid repetitive song on the radio and it was making you more anxious by the second. But turning it off didn’t help. 

It was like whatever was crawling under your skin had settled there, content to move around as much as it wanted. And it did. You felt itchy, your head pounding with both a headache and from the stress that clung to you from work. 

Your drive passed in a blur. It definitely wasn’t the safest you’d ever been while driving but your head had firmly trapped you in a feedback loop, forcing you to relive the painful moments from today, over and over and over. 

Sometimes your brain was a cruel fucker.

Parking in your driveway was simultaneously the best and the worst thing to happen to you today. It was a relief to be home, to finally get to see your husband after he’d been gone for a week. Of course you’d seen him yesterday, had your own little reunion last night, and early this morning, but it also meant that you couldn’t just shrug this funk off like you were used to doing. 

Mickey would goad you into telling him what happened. His kind brown eyes were always able to pull a confession from your lips, whether you wanted to or not. It endeared him to you and frustrated you to no end because some days, you just didn’t want to talk. 

Trudging up the steps, you unlocked the door and dropped your bags on the floor of the entryway. Your keys clattered in the little bowl that they lived in while not in use, and you could hear Mickey moving around nearby. He was either in the kitchen or the living room, and you weren’t ready to talk just yet. So you slipped your shoes off, creeping up the stairs as quietly as you could. 

You weren’t avoiding him on purpose. 

Who were you kidding? You definitely were. 

But you had your reasons. 

You just needed some space, that’s all. Time to de-people as Mickey had taken to calling it. But the way your head was buzzing was new. You had only just flopped back on the bed, blowing out a deep breath, when your clothes suddenly felt too tight, your throat too dry, and your mind too busy. 

You drew a shuddering breath, trying to will away this funk that had settled deep in your bones. “Just get changed,” you told yourself. “You’ll feel way better.” The calm and rational part of your brain was whirring brokenly, clunking along to the same rhythm as the pounding in your head. 

Hands shaking, you undid your belt and struggled to undo the button of your work pants, making you swear violently, and the frustration bubbled over until you could do nothing but slide to the floor and bury your face in your knees. 

Mickey had heard the thump from upstairs and turned the music down in the kitchen to listen for any noise to indicate what had just happened. “Mi vida? You okay?”

You heard his voice from downstairs, the not so subtle emphasis on his last question. He knew. 

Fuck. 

You were trying so hard not to worry him. He’d just gotten home after a routine training course a few hours away in Lemoore that had had him away for just over a week. Mickey would be tired. He didn’t need to deal with this. 

You could keep it together for dinner. 

So you drew in a few more shaky breaths, pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes, drawing bright sparks of colour flashing through your vision, and stood up. A few more tries and you undid the button on your pants, pulling them off as though they would bite you and throwing them in the direction of the hamper. Your shirt was next and you found yourself flopping back onto the bed, groaning. The task was simple enough, but between the sensory overload, the tag of your shirt scraping the back of your neck, and the sheer overwhelming nature of the task, you found yourself unwilling to even attempt it.

It could have been minutes or hours later, but you had plucked up enough courage and stripped off your work shirt before rifling through your husband’s drawers to find the softest, most worn shirt he had: the baby blue one that he had purposefully bought a little larger.

It felt like security. Like a safety net. 

And it always made him smile when he saw you in it. Mickey had never told you why it made him grin his thousand watt smile, but you loved it because the glimmer in his brown eyes always seemed to shine brighter whenever you grabbed this shirt. 

Putting it on felt like heaven. The soft fabric draped over you, warming where your skin touched it, and you could finally breathe. Mickey’s cologne washed over you, replacing the anger, the frustration that had coursed through your veins with the comfort and warmth that always radiated from your husband.  

For the first time since you left work, you were able to draw a full breath. 

All because of your husband. 

Downstairs, Mickey had gone back to making dinner, listening over the music as he heard you moving around. The creaking of the wooden steps had given away your journey from the bedroom, but he still pretended not to see you until you wrapped your arms around him from behind, burying your face against his shoulder blade. 

“Hey Mouse.” Your voice was muffled against his skin, very glad at how your husband had forgone a shirt this evening. He was warm from the stove and shone in the dwindling golden light from the sun through the window. The short curls that Mickey had let grow out in his time between deployments, glimmered in that same light, scattering threads of gold through his normally deep black hair. 

You had been awestruck by his beauty when you had first laid eyes on him, and now? Now, even with your eyes screwed shut and face pressed into his back, you could see him behind your closed eyelids as clear as could be.  

“Mi vida.” You felt the rumble of his voice beneath your cheek and grimaced slightly when Mickey pulled away, the pan before him clanking against the back of the stove as he turned off the burner. “I missed you, carina.” 

“I missed you too.” 

He drew you back into his arms, pressing a few kisses to your temple as you pushed your face into his neck, breathing him in. “No kisses for me, carina? What’s a man to do?” Mickey’s gentle teasing had you moving to look at him despite your better judgement, knowing that he’d seen right through the feeble mask you’d slapped on before coming downstairs. 

“Sorry baby. My head’s busy tonight.” Mickey glanced down at you before grinning into your kiss. “I missed you all week, Mouse. The house was really quiet.” Your voice was small as you suddenly fought off a wave of tears that wanted to fall, the shift in your body language jarringly abrupt and had your husband glancing down in concern. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You shook your head. “Nothing’s wrong. What are you making?” 

“That spicy pasta you love. What’s going on?” Mickey dismissed your attempt at shaking off his question and the furrow between his brows had your stomach sinking. The intelligence in those chocolate brown eyes combined with that little furrow made you want to dash your soul at his feet and beg him to fix you, but you couldn’t. 

You wouldn’t drop this on him on his first day back. 

Trapped in your thoughts, you went over the last week in your head. Your boss had called you too emotional three days ago in a poor excuse for a reason why you were suddenly doing more work for less money. You fought him on his excuses, calling his bluff at every turn, demanding answers. 

The dogged nature that had worked in your boss’s favour too many times had been turned on him, and as expected, he was not a fan. You knew that you were entitled to these answers, that you deserved an explanation for your troubles. 

“This is why I don’t work with women. They can’t be objective. Stop being hysterical and get back to work.” Your boss’s words echoed through your head, reigniting the frustration, the suffocating feeling you had had and turned your husband’s arms into what felt like prison bars. 

“… vida? Mi vida, what happened? Where’d you go?” Snapping back to reality, you jolted back, pulling out of your husband’s arms. You heard the confused sound that slipped from his throat and it sent waves of regret crashing against your heart. “Mi vida?” 

You couldn’t meet his gaze, staring at your bare feet. You knew that Mickey was watching you, you could feel the heat of his eyes as they ran over you. He was hurt, that much you knew. 

And you wanted to fix it, but it was like your mouth had been sewn shut, your mind’s vocabulary erased in an instant. You couldn’t describe what you felt, let alone explain it to your husband as you stood lamely before him. 

The lump in your throat grew as tears pricked your eyes. You squeezed them shut, trying to prevent the waves of emotions slamming into you, but it was no use. 

With a strangled sound, you crumpled to the floor, drawing your arms around yourself and letting the dam break. Tears flowed down your cheeks in rivers, your breathing turning ragged and desperate as you cried. 

Mickey was beside you in a heartbeat, pulling you onto his lap, and holding you to his chest, uncaring of your tears wetting his skin. His heart broke for you, wanting so desperately to fix whatever had made you break down like this. Distantly, he heard his mother telling him “Mijo, sometimes a girl just needs to cry. You don’t have to fix a thing, just be there,” and he resolved to do just that. 

So he sat there on the cold, hard floor, arms wrapped around you and let you cry away the pain and tension of the last few days. He had begun humming gently, pressing gentle kisses to your temple, and occasionally, letting reassurances fall from his tongue in the Spanish he knew you loved to hear. 

If a few tears fell from his own eyes, he would never tell you. You needed this cathartic release and Mickey was just glad that he had been here for you. “I’ve got you, mi vida. It’s okay. Let it out.”

You could feel the heat of Mickey’s palm gently moving up and down your back, drawing you back into reality as your sobs quieted and eventually stopped all together. “Mickey,” you murmured into his neck. 

“I’m here, carina. I’m not going anywhere.” The softness of his voice damn near set you off again and you cuddled closer to his chest like you were trying to crawl into his skin. Mickey kissed your forehead gently, burying his nose in your hair, trying to offer a fraction of the comfort you gave him on a day to day basis. 

“I know, Mouse.” Your voice was hoarse from your sobs and you hated how wet it sounded. It sounded weak to your ears and it was exactly the kind of reaction that your boss would condemn. “I’m sorry.” 

“Carina. Look at me.” Your husband’s voice was quiet but firm, refusing to hear another apology fall from your lips. “Never apologize to me for something like this. You hear?” 

“But..” 

“But nothing.” Mickey had taken your chin between his fingers, gently pulling your face from his neck to meet his eyes. “We said ‘for better or worse’, didn’t we?” 

At your wordless nod, he continued. “Then you know I mean it. What would you say if I apologized after a nightmare, hmm? That you are here, that you aren’t going anywhere, right?” 

Another nod. 

“So believe me, mi vida, when I say that it would take a whole lot more than you ugly crying all over me for me to even entertain the idea of leaving.” Mickey’s chest rose and fell under your hands, breathing deeply after his speech. “Te amo, carina. Te amo mucho.” 

“I love you too,” you whispered, leaning forward to rest your head against his. Your heart felt lighter after you cried, but you still felt strangely numb. 

Mickey kissed you gently, your first real kiss since you had come home. The first time you had kissed him in a week. It was like coming home and when he pulled away, you nearly whined. “None of that now,” Mickey whispered. “You still have to tell me what happened to make you so upset.” 

You opened your mouth to argue, but quickly shut it at the look in your husband’s eyes. There would be no dissuading him from this. You swallowed harshly, ducking your head back into his neck. You were still trying to avoid the gentle curiosity and worry that blended together in the eyes of the man you loved. “Had a shit day and I really don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Mmm.” Mickey’s quiet hum made you smile for some reason. “You know mi vida, a woman I love very much once told me that letting a bad day fester is never good, and that the best cure is a big hug and ranting and raving like a lunatic.” 

You groaned, hating when he used your own words against you. “I did say that, didn’t I?” 

“Did you? I could have sworn that that was my other wife,” he teased, chuckling at the face you made at his words. “Not to worry, carina. There never has been anyone but you since the day I met you.” 

“I know Mouse. I know.” Your head had gone fuzzy with the multitude of ways to explain your past week but none of them flowed together in a way that communicated even a fraction of your experience. “I… I just don’t know how to begin…” you trailed off, risking a look up at his face. 

Mickey was watching you, his rich brown eyes meeting yours and holding your gaze. An unspoken intensity lingered there, but knowing your husband, he wouldn’t pry. But he never had to. His gentle eyes, his strong arms around you, and the soft strength in which he carried himself never failed to make you feel safe and you wanted  to spill your guts. Dash every hope, wish, prayer, and thought you had made during the week at Mickey’s feet. You wanted… Well, you didn’t know what you wanted. 

Sensing your dissociation, Mickey poked the end of your nose, chuckling when you jolted at the feeling. “Just start from where you can, okay mi vida?” 

And you did. Your story rambling and twisting as you tried to detail every last horrible second of your week when Mickey was away. He sat quietly, listening to every stumbled over word, nodding and making small sounds of acknowledgement, support, or whatever the moment called for, and you found yourself falling more for your husband. 

Once you had finished your rant, you seemed to collapse into Mickey’s chest, your palm coming up to rest against his pec, settling into his arms. He tilted your chin up to gaze at your face, smiling and began peppering your face with kisses until you started giggling. 

“Mouse!” You shrieked, swatting at him playfully. 

Mickey kissed your chin once more before moving to kiss you gently. After a week apart, kissing him seemed to act like a balm over the wounds inflicted during the week. “I love you, mi vida.” 

“I love you more.” 

“Not possible.” 

You slowly untangled yourself from him, standing up. “Come on. You have to be hungry.” 

Mickey’s eyes narrowed playfully. “I certainly am.” He stood after you, moving quickly and caging you against the counter. “But I never said anything about food…” 

“Mouse…” Your nickname for your husband came out in a gasp as he stood over you. He moved to drop to his knees, but you caught his elbow, pulling him back up and hugging him tightly. “I just need this first. And maybe food because I didn’t get lunch today.” 

Your husband smiled, content to just stay like this, with his arms tight around you. Sex could wait, food and what you had deemed cuddles were what you needed most right now. And Mickey would be damned if he didn’t give you what you needed. Even if you just needed a hug.

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A/N: If this came to you on a day that you needed it, I'm so happy that it could be a smidge of comfort for you. If you need more cuddles, check out my one and only Bradley one-shot "A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day"

Tagging a few possible interested people: @roosterforme @joaquinwhorres @sarahsmi13s @roosters-girl @startrekfangirl2233 @dakotakazansky @cherrycola27 @cassiemitchell @thedroneranger @lovinglyeternal @bradleybeachbabe @twsssmlmaa @becks-things @blue-aconite @teacupsandtopgun @beccaanne814

#I Just Need a Hug #mickey fanboy garcia imagine #mickey fanboy garcia x reader #mickey fanboy garcia #mickey garcia x you #purely self indulgent #idk idk