#trigger warnings: eating disorder if you squint

[monzabee]

two sides of the same coin - mv1

masterlist

Summary: The one where you try to convince yourself that you’re not falling for your teammate, but can’t help it when you realise that he is not that different from you after all.

Pairing: max verstappen x reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: cursing, mommy issues (same), daddy issues, ISSUES OKAY, ISSUES, EVERYBODY HAS ISSUES, J*s Verstappen (yikes), allusions to eating disorders, a singular mention of divorce babe divorce, angst (why am i writing so much angst), daniel ricciardo being the best older grid-brother there is, slight frenemies to lovers if your squint, i don’t really like horner but he’s like the only father figure max ever had so he’s a good guy in this one. 

Request: “teammates to lovers with max please!❣️”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i did NOT expect to get this out today, but there you go! it was so much fun to write and honestly, i might slowly becoming a max girl (sorry carlos). anyway, please check the warning tags if you haven’t already, because there might be some possibly triggering content. thank you, anon, for the request, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

2018 

“Do you have to leave?” You ask the Australian in front of you who, coincidentally, is kneeled on the floor and in the middle of packing his bag. “Can’t you just… I don’t know, stay?”

“Come on, cheer up.” He says, “You’re supposed to be happy that I’m changing teams, Y/N.”

You scoff, dropping yourself to lay down and bending your knees to rest your feet on the couch. “I don’t have to be happy about anything.” You throw the tennis ball in your hand towards the wall, catching it and doing it all over again in a pattern in which you know is going to make Daniel mad. 

“Any other potential driver would be happy about this, Horner already told you the seat would be yours. So, there is no reason why you shouldn’t feel happy about this.” 

“Well, I still don’t.” You huff, turning your head towards the man jokingly glaring at you. 

He laughs, gives you a look and returns to his task while shaking his head slightly. “You’re a very weird girl, Y/N.” 

“Wow, Daniel. That’s brand-new information.” A third voice interrupts your discussion from the door. It’s Max leaning against the frame with his arms crossed across his chest. You halt the movement of your hands to send him a scathing look. 

You roll your eyes, mumbling something along the lines of  “No one asked you,” under your breath. 

“Play nice, Max Emilian.” Daniel mumbles, making the Dutch groan and you laugh. “Fuck, how did I pack this in the first place?” 

“You wouldn’t have this issue if you didn’t get too comfortable in your driver’s room, Danny.” You offer, raising yourself on your elbows to get a better look at the already bursting luggage. “You still have a ton of stuff at the hotel, too.” 

“Maybe you should just stop living like a slob.” Max offers this time, making both you and Daniel to glare at him. “Jesus, tough room.”

“You should become a comedian,” you tell him with a voice dripping with sarcasm, “Max Emilian.” 

He straightens his posture quickly, “You know what, Y/N–”

“Calm down, children.” Daniel sighs and  giving you both the look. “You two need to get along now that I’m not going to be there to stop some kind of childish feud–”

“It’s not childish–” You argue at the same time Max complains, “She pushed me off the track!”

You furiously get up from your place on the couch and walk towards him with an accusatory finger extended towards him. “It wasn’t me, you dickhead, it was Charles! And it was an accident!” 

“I don’t care,” He contends, “You were helping him push me off the track.” He shakes his head while mumbling, “Incident, inchident, as if I’m stupid.”

“Why would I help him when I was racing against both of you, Max?” 

“I don’t know,” He shrugs, a devilish smirk on his lips. “Maybe you had a crush on him.” 

“I- I did not!” Your shout is high pitched, you gasp and start to follow him with enraged steps when he walks out of the room. “You get back right here, Max, you insufferable twat!” 

Daniel is left with an empty room and a luggage which is about to explode. “They’ll be fine,” he announces, mostly to himself but also at the poor intern who watches the corridor you’re both walking down in while continue your very loud fight. “Do you think you can get me another luggage?” 

2019

It’s not like you hate Max, you don’t hate him at all. In fact, he’s gone out of his way to make you feel comfortable from your change in role from a reserve driver to the second driver at Red Bull. Looking back, you can now say that everything happened so quickly. One day, you were the reserve driver for Aston Martin Red Bull Formula One team, and the next day, Christian Horner invited you to his office to offer you an opportunity of a lifetime. Having a reserve driver who was a woman had already had the team under a large microscope – some calling it a step in the right direction whilst others arguing that it was nothing more than a PR move to gain sympathy. You tried telling your team principle your concerns about the media but he assured you that all will be dealt with and all you would need to do is drive a good race. 

So, you left the office with a renewed, and rewritten, contract and never looked back. After that, it was a whirlwind of media duties (both due to your ‘promotion’ and Daniel’s departure), photoshoots, and much more. Your trusted Apple Watch was replaced with a Tag Heuer one, which left you terrified of losing it. But Horner assured you that they’d deal with it – “Should you ever lose the watch, but try not to because it costs a lot of money, okay?” Max was with you in every step of the way, even though his father clearly unapproved of your pseudo-friendship. You sometimes think the only reason the two of you ever became friends is due to the fact that it was forced upon you due to you being teammates, but Max proves this to be wrong every time he brings you coffee in morning briefings because; “I don’t want for them to repeat it and extend the meeting because you’re sleepy,” or when he checks up on you before a race in a particular track he knows you’re anxious about; “Just making sure you’re calmed down so you don’t accidentally hit me,” or how he comforts you after every fight you have with your mother. 

Which brings us to another topic – your mother. You suppose what J.D Salinger said was true – Mothers are all slightly insane. And you are allowed to say that, because yours takes the term ‘dance mom’ to a whole other level. You thought since Daniel convinced your mother that he’d take care of you, she’d stay away, but she became very interested in your career as a racing driver. You’d hoped that wouldn’t be the case, but your dreams are crushed like your car when she shows up in your first race. You two have a very public fight, which Christian has to break up for both of your sakes, leaving you to lock yourself in your driver’s room for the remainder of the race. It’s only when your door is knocked you realise the race is over. You’re about to yell back against the persistent knocks that you want to be left alone when you hear his voice. 

You get up and open to door to let Max in, only to find yourself crashing in his arms on the couch, sobbing through his calming words. “It’s going to be fine,” he says and somehow you realise maybe the two of you aren’t so different. 

2020

Between the pandemic and the new regulations, the 2020 season rocks your world – in a totally not cool way. The paddock buzzes with the health restrictions, everyone wanting to keep their drivers and staff safe. The stress from the unknown which comes from the fact that you’re in a freaking pandemic and that fact that your mother and Helmut Marko is enough to keep you on the edge throughout the whole season. The fights with your mother now more prominent than ever, you’re fairly sure that the poor people who are supposed to be doing their jobs can’t even do that because the fight seems to continue wherever you go. One day it’s about the fact that you couldn’t get a podium, the next time it’s because of the fact that you were third, you didn’t push enough, you pushed too hard, you didn’t use enough throttle, and the list goes on. You can feel the light in you fading with every fight, and the criticising jabs being masked as ‘little comments’, you’re just glad that you’re getting through the season without wanting to explode. 

It's between practice sessions when you sit down for lunch with your mother. You both order your food – her a salad, and you a sandwich. After the waiter leaves, your mother lets out an unsatisfied hum. 

“What’s wrong, mom?” You ask, trying to keep your voice and facial expression calm. 

“Wouldn’t it be better if you ate something healthier?” She asks, her voice condescending in every way you absolutely hate. “It would save your engineers a whole lot of work.” 

You sigh, turning your attention to your phone in your hands to appear busy. “The world isn’t going to end if I eat two slices of bread for lunch, mom.” You mumble. 

“It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t maintain healthier habits, I heard of this new diet–”

“I think she said she’d prefer the sandwich, Ms. Y/LN.” A voice interrupts, the one which you’ve become accustomed with. When you raise your head up, Max meets your eyes with an expectant look. “I’m sorry to keep your lunch short, but Christian said he wanted to meet us.” 

And with that, he quickly whisks you away from your mother. You’re confused when he leads you to his driver’s room instead of Christian’s office. You look at him with raised eyebrows, “I thought we were meeting Christian.” 

“Well, I might’ve lied.” He shrugs. Then, he moves towards the serving plate on the little table and motions you to sit. You’re even more surprised to find the sandwich you’ve ordered on the plate. He must’ve anticipated this because he explains it as he offers you the plate. “I was sitting a few tables over and heard you order it, now eat.” 

“Thanks, Max.” You whisper with a breathy voice. 

“It’s going to be fine.” He whispers back, making sure you eat every bite. 

2021 

Everything is much more tense this season. Although the go through the races is podium finishes and points (and even a few wins), you realise Max is more on edge than you are. This also puts you in a slight state of panic, as he’s been the one better at keeping the cool between the two of you, but you manage to put your own insecurities aside to help your friend who’s done the same for you for the past two years. It starts with encouraging words and continues with comforting touches which evolve into hands lingering around after hugs. It becomes stolen looks across the rooms or group interviews where they separated the two of you. It later becomes holding each other’s hands under the tables during function and award shows and even holding each other in the comfort of your respective driver’s or hotel rooms. 

Max brings home a win in Monaco, while you steal the first place from Seb in Azerbaijan. He’s not bitter about it, in fact he congratulates you and doses you in so much champagne you have to take two showers to get the stickiness off your hair when you get back to your hotel room. While the season seems to be going for you from the race perspective, you realise Max is starting to have more problems with his father. You try your best when it comes to reassuring him, but both you and Max realise that you’re more open to being comforted than him. So, you provide the silence he craves and he eventually lets you know that he is ready for your cuddles. It’s a sad but a good routine. 

There’s one incident with an interview during the season. The tensions are high and people are starting to question your ability as a driver more now that you are bringing home podiums and wins. They are sceptical about the fact that you are a woman and question your every move and achievement – but you don’t mind it, you’re doing it for the little girls everywhere who watch you and hope to achieve the same things as you one day. 

An interviewer asks, “Isn’t it hard to focus on your task when you’re surrounded with nineteen other drivers who happen to be all men?”

You’re still tired from the previous race and not getting a full night’s sleep the night before, that it takes a while for you to comprehend the question. Thankfully, Daniel and Seb are there to defend you alongside Max. You turn your focus to the interviewer who asked the question as their protests die down. “Well,” you start with a shaky laugh, “I know the past year has messed up us all, but I’m not particularly into anything involving masks or stuff that conceal the face.” There is a nervous laughter around the room and the interviewer is not pleased with your answer. “Shall we continue?” You ask in the sweetest voice you can muster. When you look at Daniel and Max, both of them grin at you while giving you a supportive thumbs-up. 

You find yourself in his hotel room in Austin, a couple weeks after the race in Turkey. His eyes are focused on the portable screen as he plays FIFA. You’ve realised it’s a pre-race routine for him – not that you understand, his eyes must be tired after looking at the screen for too long. He asks you if you want to play and you agree, albeit timidly. He lets you play a few rounds after taking over and playing for fourteen hours straight to find himself ranking 21 worldwide. 

“You can always join an esports team after this.” You joke, your head is on the back of the couch as you look up at him. He laughs, agreeing you without any objection. 

“Maybe I should.” 

“What, you’re not going to continue racing until you are an old prune?” You ask. 

His face contorts. “No, that’s not the goal, schatje.”

“Then tell me,” You move your hands under your chin to appear more interested despite the sleep in your eyes. “what is the goal?” 

“To prove a point, and then I’m free.” He replies, mimicking your earlier pose. 

“You’re going to be fine, Max.” You speak in a soft voice; your touch is soft on his cheek when you bring one of your hands to caress the skin. “You’re going to become the champion this year.”

“How do you know?” Max asks, you can tell it is not to be sceptical, but it is in genuine curiosity. 

“Female intuition.” 

He lets out a big laugh, grabbing your wrist gently and pressing a kiss on the tips of your fingers. “Come on, we have to sleep before tomorrow. He have a race to win.” 

He wins, by the way – the race in Austin. And then, he goes on to win the 2021 World Championship. There are tears in your eyes as you congratulate him on the team radios, and after you get out of your car. He brings you on the podium and kisses you in front of the whole world. You realise that he was right all those times after all, everything is going to be fine.

2022

Both of you are in a bubble when you get to the 2022 season. He kisses you before every race, you do the same. You wish each other luck and proceed to race on the track the best you can. You find each other after every race, mostly covered in champagne, and kiss again. Both of your parents were opposed to your relationship at first – your mother and his father. It’s funny to think that now, because he’s introduced you to his mother and you introduced him to your dad, and as far as their approval goes, the love extends both ways. You’ve told your mother to stop coming to races, presenting a clear argument without raising your voice once, which leaves her no choice to agree to your wishes. It was scary to even consider doing it, but the proud look on Max’s face is enough for you to do it all again.

You win the race in Monaco this year. Max is P3, but he looks just as happy as you when you direct your bottle of champagne towards him. Although Carlos is there with you on the podium, in that moment, it feels like the world consists of only the two of you. You go to celebrate with the team, of course. Christian pushing you into the pool and you pulling Max, and consequently him, alongside you. Someone captures the moment and you post it to your social media. Daniel makes sure everyone knows that he approves. 

The fight is still on, as Lewis would say. You know both him and Max are still fighting for the title. No one expected you to join the two of them in their fight for the title. The first few races are hard at the start of the season, but you outrace most of your friends on the track after your win in Monaco. By the time you get to Abu Dhabi for the season’s last race, you’re a shaky mess. He takes you into his arms and whispers affirming promises into your ear. 

“You’re going to become the world champion,” He announces to you. “I know you’re going to do it.” 

Your voice comes out creaking as you question, “How do you know?”

There is a warm smile on his lips as he answers, “Female intuition.” 

You both get ready to race before you could answer because of the knock on the door. 

“YOU DID IT, Y/N, YOU ARE THE FIRST FEMALE WORLD CHAMPION IN THE HISTORY OF FORMULA ONE!” Horner shouts through your radio. 

You’re still shaking by the time you park your car, and can’t get out even when your team huddles around you to celebrate. It takes a while to take it all in, but as you stand on the podium as the reigning champion with the man you love, nothing else matters to you in the world. You look around to see the smile on people’s faces, people shouting and cheering for you, and you even see your father who holds a banner with one of his hands as his other arm is wrapped around your team principal. It’s a bittersweet feeling, winning the same season one of your best friends announce that he is going to become a reserve driver. But Daniel is right there with your dad and Christian, screaming your name with pride. After your national anthem is played and you pop the champagne, you’re trying to get your eyes dry from all the tears as Max suddenly falls to his knees. You kneel with him with panic, of course, thinking that there might be something wrong with his heartbeat or something worse. But right as you’re about to call for help he brings something from his back towards you, opening the small box while maintaining his eye contact with you. There is an uproar of cheers around you, but it doesn’t matter. As far as you’re concerned, there’s only Max and you – and you and Max. 

“Marry me, liefje.” He says. 

You nod your head, “Yes.” 

He gathers you up in his arms after he puts the ring on your finger. You realise that he was right from the beginning, everything is more than fine. 

2023

“You need to stop doing this to yourself.” You announce as you watch Daniel struggle with his overflowing luggage – again. “You’re not even driving this season.” 

“It’s not my fault, I can’t not take what the fans give me.” He tries to defend himself; he points to the suitcase with frustration. “Can you help me, please?”

“Only because I am in a good mood.” You announce as you kneel beside him and the two of you try closing the monstrosity in front of you. 

You know Max is there before he announces his arrival. “Putting my wife to work, Daniel?” He asks. He comes to kneel with the two of you helping you close the luggage up. Then, he kisses you softly on your lips as he mumbles, “Hello, Mrs. Verstappen.” 

“Hello, Mr. Verstappen.” You giggle. 

“God, you guys are insufferable.” Daniel pretends to gag, receiving glares from the both of you. “Remember when you guys hated each other? Yeah, I miss those days.” 

“We never hated each other.” Max shrugs. 

“Yeah,” You seem to agree with your husband. “It was just an inchident of misunderstanding.” 

“I better be your future kids’ godfather!” He yells behind you as you start to leave (your) driver’s room. “Children, bloody children.” He mumbles to himself, he waves his arms for help when he spots one of the interns, “Hey, do you think you can get me another luggage?”

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #max verstappen smut #max verstappen fluff #daniel ricciardo is the best

[gothbitchshit]

Thick with Desire

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem plus sized! reader

Genre: hurt/comfort, smut, fluff

Rating: Explicit/18+ only MINORS DNI

Length: 7k

Summary: When your boyfriend Eddie’s shirt doesn’t fit, you start to feel like you don’t deserve him. But Eddie is having none of it, not when he finally gets to see how beautiful you are.

Warnings: reader is 18+ but is implied to be a senior in hs with Eddie, reader is insecure about her figure/weight, reader degrading herself for her figure/weight, briefly mentioned unsafe weight loss methods (dieting/disordered eating), Eddie being a whole simp for his thick gf, praise kink, so much dirty talk like 😮‍💨, sacrilege lol, overuse of pet names probably sorry, body worship, daddy kink 😬, face sitting/oral sex (f receiving), fingering, Eddie has a big dick, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, dumbification if you squint, dacryphilia, marking kink — if I missed anything please let me know 🖤

Requested: Yes by @joekeeray — “Don’t be shy now, come sit on my face”

A/n: I’ve been working on this for way too long, bc as a thick bitch, I felt ✨inspired✨ but this could be potentially triggering for anyone who struggles with body image issues 🖤 also this has been beta read 🫡 also my requests are open so pleaaaaaaaase send me requests ❤️

⋆ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋆

You stared at your reflection in Eddie’s mirror as fat, salty tears rolled down your face without a stop in sight. Eddie’s frantic voice muffled by the locked door as he begged you to let him in. You knew this moment was coming — it had been looming in the distance most of the day.

It had started at lunch, Jeff’s new girlfriend, Missy, wearing his old Hellfire shirt — the one he’d accidentally torn the neck of in frustration a few months ago sitting at the same table they were at now, trying to psych himself up to ask Missy on a date. You hadn’t thought much about it, in fact you thought it was cute she was putting in effort (something you figured she could stand to do more of) but that in itself wasn’t the problem.

The problem was the ideas it gave your wonderful boyfriend.

Eddie had leaned over and whispered in your ear, “Why don’t you ever wear my shirts, sweetheart?” and instead of making you buzz with excitement — as his honeyed voice usually did — it filled you with dread.

You didn’t look like Missy, no matter how hard you wished, cried, dieted, starved, or hated yourself for it. You weren’t thin or delicate like her. And no matter how many times Eddie called you his tiny baby or his little princess, you couldn’t help but feel the stab of his words deep in your chest. You weren’t tiny like he wanted you to be — like you wanted to be.

The sheer thought of attempting to squeeze yourself into your boyfriends shirt made you want to cry. The material, while baggy on his lean frame, would stretch threadbare, and there wasn’t a chance in hell it would be long enough to cover your tummy. The idea of Eddie seeing you had caused you to shy away from his affections on more than one occasion. You’d never let him get your clothes all the way off, and had carefully avoided the topic of sex by learning how to give Eddie the best head of his life, and letting him finger you to his heart’s desire. It wasn’t like Eddie was pushing you, or cared in the slightest that you hadn’t gone all the way yet. And you’d almost given in on multiple occasions, when his hands would brush over your body in the most sinful ways and his voice rasped in your ear, verging on desperation as he explained all the filthy things he wanted to do to you.

You weren’t a virgin, although being with Eddie had made you wish you’d waited for someone like him before giving it up to Andrew Johnson at the Halloween party sophomore year. Especially not when you came to school the next day and the basketball team — bar Steve Harrington — had been whispering about what you looked like under your clothes. The whispers stopped quickly after Will Byers had disappeared along with Barb Holland, and the Nancy Wheeler and Steve Harrington drama had thrown you back into social obscurity: back where you felt safe.

It had taken you nearly 2 years to trust another boy. You’d almost given up on men entirely — like your best friend Robin had suggested you do — but Eddie had wormed his way into your heart so easily. You trusted him with everything you had. But you were so scared that if Eddie saw you, all of you, he would decide you weren’t good enough anymore, that you weren’t enough.

It wasn’t long after Eddie had whispered in your ear that you were pushing your half eaten lunch away from you, standing up from your seat. “I need to talk to Mrs. Highland about making up a test,” you mumbled into Eddie’s ear, pressing a gentle kiss to cheek. He opened his mouth to speak, to question you about why you were leaving so suddenly, but you were already nearly out the door.

You carefully avoided him the rest of the day — taking long detours around areas you knew he frequented. You even went so far as to pretend you didn’t see him while talking to Robin between classes, unable to miss the hurt on his face. It broke your heart to know that you made him feel that way. But you didn’t know how to talk to him about this.

However, much to your chagrin, that kind, wonderful boyfriend of yours waiting for you at your locker at the end of the day, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Sweetheart, what’s going on? Did I do something wrong?”

The confusion swirling in his big brown eyes had tears welling in yours as you shook your head, “No, ’m sorry,” you mumbled, tucking yourself under his chin as his arms wrapped around you.

“What happened, my love?” He cooed, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Nothin’, just got in my head,” you sighed, willing away the tears that gathered in your bottom lashes. He looked suspicious, but let it go to tuck you back into his embrace, steering you out of the school — books and homework forgotten in your locker.

The ride to his trailer was quiet, comfortably so, with Eddie’s hand on your thigh, gently kneading the muscle through your jeans. It was something he had always done, his hands never straying from your body for too long. But today the sight made you feel sick to your stomach.

In your head, you could see that same beautiful, veined hand with thick, golden fingers, adorned with clunky metal rings on another girls thigh — a much smaller and daintier leg belonging to a girl more beautiful and more deserving the place in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van and in in his heart. If he noticed your silent suffering, he didn’t show it while he drove; Iron Maiden played softly while Eddie hummed along per usual.

It wasn’t until you’d gotten into Eddie’s trailer that he said anything — something entirely out of character for him — but you were too in your head to notice. “Alright, baby, time to tell good ol’ Eddie what’s bothering you. Because I can see those tears from here, and I’ve seen them in your eyes since lunch. Fess up babe,” he rambled, his tone light, but you knew him too well.

You could see the way his hands shook as he rubbed them on the outside of his pants, pulling off his Dio vest and leather jacket as he spoke, his voice wavering on hysterical; he was anxious. The tears you had swallowed came back with a vengeance, immediately slipping down your cheeks as he gasped.

“No, no, no, my love! I don’t want you to cry! Just please tell me what I’ve done and I’ll—“

“You d-didn’t do a-anything, Eds,” you stuttered through the tears, “I’m j-just sensitive is all, a-almost my period,” you lied, and Eddie’s frown deepened, taking two steps toward you to catch your face in his hands.

“Princess, light of my life, I know you’re lying to me,” he whispered, brushing a thumb over your cheek to wipe away a tear. You shook your head, trying to deny his accusations, but you couldn’t force another lie out of your mouth even when you tried. “Oh. I think I know,” he trailed off.

“Eds really, I’m okay, I just am having a rough day and I don’t—“

“No, baby, I should have put it together earlier. When Missy was wearing Jeff’s shirt at lunch, I saw the look on your face. I’m sorry I’ve never given you one of my shirts to wear, I just never thought about it. But I swear, princess, I want to see it.”

Ice ran through your veins at his words. You tried to protest — you really did — but somehow you ended up in the tight bathroom of Eddie’s trailer, struggling to pull his shirt over yourself as tears streamed down your face silently. It was tight and uncomfortable as you struggled, the enclosed space making your skin sticky as you fought the fabric.

Your reflection in the mirror made you feel sick — his shirt looked like a crop top on you. The soft skin of your tummy hanging out the bottom, and the white material was stretched thin across your chest, making your breasts look somehow larger than they were.

“Sweetheart, let me in, I wanna see you,” Eddie’s voice called out sweetly.

You couldn’t contain the sob that forced itself out of your chest. The thought of Eddie seeing you like this made you wish his bathroom had a window you could fit out of, so you could simply disappear instead of having to face him like this.

“No, Eddie, you can’t come in,” you choked out, and he went silent for a second before the doorknob started twisting.

“Why are you crying, sweetheart? What’s wrong? Are you okay? Please let me in,” he begged.

You tried to keep the words in, but the earnest tone of his voice tore them out of your mouth before you could stop them, “Missy was wearing Jeff’s shirt and she looked so cute and so small and I know I’ll never look like her. I shouldn’t even be with you Eddie, you’re so beautiful, you deserve someone as beautiful as you are — like Chrissy or Jennifer — and I don’t know why you even want to be with someone like me.”

“Sweetheart just open the door,” he pleaded.

“No, just give me a minute and let me change and just drop it okay? You don’t wanna see me like this, just please go away,” you whimpered softly.

His frantic pulling on the doorknob stopped for a second, followed by a tiny, almost imperceptible click, and then the door was swinging open to reveal your boyfriend, lock pick in hand.

Time seemed to slow as he stared at you, his eyes going wide and his jaw falling open in shock as he looked at you. Every insult you’d ever heard came flooding back through your mind as you tried to prepare yourself for Eddie’s inevitable disgust.

“Eddie please just go,” you begged, crossing your arms over your stomach to hide from him. You tried not to choke on a sob as he stared at you, frozen in the doorway, expression unreadable in his eyes. “I-I’m sorry, I’ll take it off, I’m sorry I stretched it out and I’ll give you the money to make a new one; just please don’t-don’t leave me because I look—“

Your words seemed to snap him out of his daze, his eyes zeroing in on your face as his eyebrows furrowed. “Baby, I don’t know why you’re apologizing,” he said quietly, straightening himself out and taking careful steps toward you.

You sagged in defeat as he moved toward you, “Because I’m fat, Eddie and I ruined your shirt and I’m not good enough for you and I’m too selfish to let you go when I know you deserve better than me. But I’ll try! I’ll try for you, I swear I will, I love you so much, I’ll lose some weight, just please—“

“Don’t.” Eddie said firmly, crowding you into the corner of the bathroom, his hands on your cheeks as he stood over you. “Do not say another mean word about yourself, or change a single hair on your pretty little head. I love you, exactly as you are.”

“You don’t mean that,” you hiccuped softly, curling in on yourself.

“Hey, look at me baby,” he ordered. You turned your eyes up at him slowly, “You are perfect. God I mean, look at you.”

Tears started falling again as you felt the weight of his words settle on you. “Just look at yourself,” your parents would say, grinding your self confidence into powder under their heels.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered sadly.

Eddie sighed, grabbing your hand in one of his, placing it on his bulge without a word. The shock of his action stunning you into silence, effectively stopping your tears. A sweet smile spread across his face as you looked up at him in confusion before he was bending down to press a kiss to your forehead, “The only thing you have to be sorry about is saying all those nasty things about my girl. Shit baby, if I would have known how goddamn sexy under those baggy shirts, I would have burned all your other clothes before this.”

“Stop, it’s not funny,” you whined, turning away from him, but his hand caught your chin, fingers digging into your cheeks as he forced you to look into his eyes.

“Princess, I’m not joking,” he said seriously, “I thought I was fucking dreaming when I opened the door. Seeing you standing here in nothing but your jeans and my shirt? I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”

“But Eddie it’s so small on me, I look so—“

“God that’s the best fuckin’ part babe,” he groaned, “I didn’t know I needed to see you in a tight little crop top, but you are so… Fuck, you put those cheerleaders to shame, angel.”

You could feel your face heating up under his heady gaze — the look in his eyes was dark and nearly feral. He looked hungry; hungry for you.

“My pretty little baby,” he cooed, closing the gap between the two of you, letting his chest brush against yours, “Doesn’t even know how perfect she is, hm? Guess I need to treat my girl better; don’t I?”

“N-no, you’re perfect, Eds,” you sighed as he dropped his head into the crook of your neck, planting sloppy kisses along the skin.

“No, princess, you’re perfect. I can’t believe I’ve never gotten you in my clothes before, never gotten you naked before, I’m such an idiot,” he huffed, hands beginning to wander over the exposed skin of your tummy. “God, I love your fuckin’ skin. As soon as I touch it it’s like electricity is running through me. Always wanted to know what you felt like, bare under my hands,” he slurred, his hands moving to cup your breasts. “And your tits? Fuck, sweetheart — I love your tits, y’know that? They’re fuckin’ heavenly.”

“Eddie,” you whined, letting your head drop back onto the small, square bathroom window. Eddie’s hands were lighting a fire in your veins.

“Am I allowed to pick you up, my pretty girl?” Eddie asked softly, “Because I wanna take you to bed so bad, sweetheart. Fuck you so good, make you cum till you’re crying and forget all those mean things you think about yourself. Wanna fill that pretty pussy and keep you all fucked out and cockdrunk in my bed. Can I do that? Will you let me take you to bed, and fuck you like I’ve been dying to for ages now?”

“Eddie, I don’t know if you can—” you whispered, but you were cut off by Eddie’s hands digging into the plush skin of your thighs before lifting you off the ground easily.

You yelped, wrapping your arms around his neck and threading your fingers into his hair. “My tiny little thing thinks I’m some sort of weakling? Can’t hold up my precious girl? I really haven’t been treatin’ you like you deserve, sweetheart,” he mumbled into your neck, as your thighs wrapped around his waist.

He managed to squeeze you both out of the small bathroom before crossing the distance to his bed and dropping you unceremoniously. You hit the mattress with a gasp, feeling dazed as the room spun slightly.

When you were able to refocus your gaze, all you could see was him, hovering at the end of the bed — your mouth beginning to water as you stared at his heaving chest. He’d pulled his shirt off in the few moments you’d been dazed — the patch of dark hair that trailed from his bellybutton to the hem of his pants pulled your focus immediately.

God you’d never wanted him so bad in your life. You wanted to devour him, feel his cock unhinging your jaw and lodging itself into your throat — but you also wanted him inside you, desperately. You’d cum with his name on your lips as you fucked yourself into oblivion night after night in the safety of your sheets, thinking about his long, thick cock splitting you open.

“Eddie, please,” you groaned, your eyes rolling back in your head as you squirmed on his bed. The ache in your cunt was making your brain hazy with need.

“Just gimme a minute, sweetheart, I gotta burn this image into my head. Gonna think about you like this for the rest of my fuckin’ life, like fuck, babe, you’re the goddamn dream,” he groaned, grabbing your ankle, lifting it up to his cheek, nuzzling into the sliver of skin between the hem of your jeans and the top of your shoe before pressing a soft kiss there. “I’m gonna treat you right, sweetheart, but I gotta know if you’re okay with this first. Because I don’t ever, ever, wanna make you feel uncomfortable. If you say stop, I’ll stop, no questions asked, but baby please, I gotta see you, all of you.” You responded with a single nod, the words dying in your throat as he stared at you from behind his fluttering eyelashes. His pupils were blown wide with lust, and you could have sworn you had never felt more desired in your life. “None of that, I need words, princess. Tell me that this is okay, and I’ll spend the rest of the night worshiping you like you deserve.”

You thought for a moment about every interaction you’d ever had with Eddie, trying to come up with a single reason you shouldn’t trust him with all of you. When you came up woefully short, all you could do was whisper a small, “I trust you.”

A near feral groan coming out of his chest as his head snapped back, his shoulders sagging in relief. “Fuck,” he moaned sinfully, “You’re gonna make me blow my load in my pants if you keep talking like that,” he smirked, making you giggle. “Now, let’s get my princess out of these clothes.”

You bit back a sigh as he pulled the shoe off your foot slowly, letting it drop to the floor next to him before peeling off the sock. The feeling made you shiver as his fingers ran over the sensitive skin of your foot, tracing the tendons and veins lightly — almost as if to commit it to memory — before putting your ankle onto his shoulder and grabbing your other leg, repeating the action of pulling off your shoe and sock. As soon as he placed the other foot on his shoulder, he was dropping to his knees at the foot of the bed, hands running up the covered expanse of your legs gently.

“I’m gonna take your pants off now baby, is that okay?” He asked, looking up at you from between your legs.

The sight made you sigh, only being able to let out a breathy “Yeah,” in response to his question. He grinned, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your jeans, taking his time to unbutton and unzip your pants torturously slow before finally beginning to strip you of them — leaving you covered only by the thin strip of maroon lace, barely hiding your pussy from his heavy gaze.

You half expected him to dive into your cunt face first based on the look in his eyes, but Eddie’s hands splayed out across your exposed skin, silent as he kneaded at your naked flesh, watching how the dimpled skin reacted under his purposeful movements. He crawled up your body slowly, dragging his mouth across your soft skin before resting his chin on your stomach, his hands buried underneath you to grab at your ass.

“I’m mad at you,” he mumbled, dropping his forehead, mouthing at the plump skin of your belly and tracing his tongue along your stretch marks, “Been hiding this from me for so long, s’mean, baby. Keeping these thighs, and this tummy, and your pretty pussy away from me? Not anymore, nuh uh, not gonna let you hide anymore. Not now that I know I’ve got the prettiest baby in the universe.”

You felt your face heat up at his words, the argument on the tip of your tongue, but the words were stolen from your mouth when Eddie’s mouth attached itself to your cunt as he sucked on the thin material of your panties lewdly. The ghost of pressure on your clit made you jolt, a shiver running down your spine.

“Oh, my baby is so worked up,” he cooed softy, placing a chaste kiss on your pubic bone before crawling up the bed to lay on the pillows. You stared at him in confusion as he got himself comfortable, his eyes meeting yours before he smirked. “Don’t be shy now, come sit on my face.”

You sputtered for a few seconds, unable to process the words that had just come out of his mouth. “Eddie, you-you can’t I mean-I’m too—“

He simply sighed and grabbed your wrist, pulling you on top of him with nearly no effort, his eyes narrowed as your knees slotted over his thin waist. “You say another word about this body — this fucikn’ amazing, sexy, unbelievable body of yours that I love and worship — I will have no choice but to punish you, got it?” You nodded solemnly at the seriousness of his tone, making the pretty smile you were used to grow on his face. “Now be a good girl and sit on my face.”

Good girl. The words burned through you like lightning, and you knew you’d do almost anything to hear them again. Especially falling out of his mouth sounding like honey and the promise of forever — of more. So you swallowed the protest that threatened to escape you and shuffled up his body until your knees were planted on both sides of his head.

“That’s right sweetheart, now just sit,” he commanded, pulling your panties to the side with his thumb and slamming your hips down onto his face with his arm wrapped around your back.

The sensation was almost too much to handle, his warm, wet tongue licking a fat stripe up your cunt, circling your clit with his tongue before dragging the appendage back through your folds slowly to tease at your opening. You couldn’t stop your hips from rocking against his ministrations, both your hands burying themselves in his hair, earning a groan. “Fuck, Eddie,” you moaned.

“Fuck baby, you taste so good,” he groaned into you, the vibrations zinging through you, setting your nerves alight.

“Eddie-fuck!” you choked out a yelp, your thighs tightening around his head as your hips moved of their own volition. You could barely focus on a single sensation at once, Eddie’s hands were everywhere — on your ass, running up your exposed thighs, pawing at your tits that were still covered by the too small Hellfire shirt.

You now understood why girls would rave about getting eaten out by their boyfriends — his mouth on your cunt felt like heaven. You almost couldn’t remember why you’d never done it before, because the sounds he was making as he ate you, the way he touched you, and the way he made you feel was intoxicating. You felt sexy and powerful in a way you’d never felt before, especially with how he spoke to you.

“Come on pretty baby, cum on my face, lemme hear those sweet noises you make just for me,” Eddie hissed before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking harshly, ripping the orgasm from you forcefully as you wailed and shook in his hold.

The sensation of your orgasm tearing through you had you losing all sense of reality. You felt like you were flying, or dying, or both at the same time, and you never wanted it to end. “Fuck, daddy, ’sgood,” you mumbled, unable to stop the word from coming out of your mouth.

You didn’t even realize you had said it until you were flipped onto your back with Eddie in your face, eyes dark and full of ravenous lust. “What did you say?” he ground out through gritted teeth. You shook your head, tears welling in your vision as you tried to think of an excuse. “My pretty baby, still needs to learn how to use her words,” he sighed before pushing your knees up to your chest, slotting himself between them. “That's okay, I’ll teach you.”

Without warning, and without a second of hesitation, he was ripping the thin lace nearly to shreds and pushing a finger into your warmth, grinning sadistically when your eyes rolled back. His pace was slow and brutal, pulling out all the way before slipping back in in perfect measured strokes, as if he was keeping time in his head to some unknown song devised purely to drive you insane.

“That’s right, take my fingers like a good girl,” he smirked, adding another finger without losing his rhythm. You could feel every ridge and bump of his fingers, the cool metal of his ring touching your spread open warmth made heat flare in your belly as you could barely breathe let alone function with his relentless pace, and each measured thrust of his fingers made your brain grow fuzzier. “Now tell me again what you said baby and I’ll reward you.”

The promise of more had you folding easily as you panted a soft, “Daddy, please,” arching your back and rutting your hips into his perfectly measured thrusts. You were rewarded with Eddie’s teeth sinking into the meat of your thigh, another wave of arousal running through you. Your face burned with shame as you heard the wet sound of his fingers slamming into you.

“You like that, don’t you? You like when daddy’s a little mean, hm?” he teased softly, pulling his fingers all the way out of you, staring at your pussy as it fluttered. “You want me back in there, don’t you baby? Your little hole is desperate to get filled isn’t it?” he asked, making you nod as you bit your lip to stop from begging. “Don’t worry princess, daddy’s got you. Just gimme a second, gotta make sure you’re all ready for me,” he grinned.

“Eddie, please, I need you to—“ you started to beg, but Eddie shushed you with another sharp nip to your inner thigh, pulling an embarrassingly high pitched moan out of you.

“Don’t rush me, angel. I’m a tactile learner, and I need a moment to acquaint myself with my new earmuffs before I ruin that pretty hole of yours, got it?” he said firmly. His casual tone made you clench around nothing, feeling more wetness seep out of you onto your thighs. You nodded, sinking back onto his pillow as you tried to catch your breath.

He hummed happily, sitting back on his heels to look at you again, “I can’t get enough baby, I’m sorry, I just—fuck you’re so pretty,” he rambled, “I don’t understand why you’d ever think you’re anything less than perfection. I mean, shit baby, you’re a fuckin’ goddess. My own personal Aphrodite,” he smiled, kissing the inside of your knee.

His impassioned words made you shiver and squirm, and you could feel your arousal pooling on the sheet under you. You knew Eddie had a way with words, but you never expected him to be able to break through years of self deprecation and insecurities with a few compliments.

But even more so than his words was the way Eddie held you and touched you. His fingers trailed over your stretch marks like they were paint strokes of a priceless work of art, and his mouth moved over your skin as if he was savoring the taste of something expensive. It was addicting to feel so loved and wanted — Eddie was addicting.

Ever since the first time you’d met, you realized he had entirely invaded your mind. You hadn’t spent a single day not thinking of him, always finding a reason to be with him or even just talk to him on the phone. Eddie had you — hook, line, and sinker.

“I love you, Eddie,” you sighed, his hands coming to a stop on your stomach.

The next thing you knew he was hovering inches above your face, his eyes glassy as his guitar pick hit your chin, “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it baby, because I’ll really get my hopes up if you do and that would just break my heart if you don’t—“ he started rambling, but you cut him off with a soft hand on his cheek.

“I mean it, Eddie. I love you. I’m sorry I’ve been too scared to say it,” you smiled softly, feeling a tear hit your face. A shred of guilt bubbled in your gut as he stared into his eyes — he had made it clear when he told you he loved you a few weeks prior that he wasn’t expecting you to say it back until you were ready. And you hadn’t been — until now.

“Fuck, princess, I love you. You’re mine now. Mine forever. I’m never letting you go. You look like this and you love me? Never letting anyone take you away from me, baby,” he breathed, crushing his lips to yours firmly. You could taste the tang of your essence on his tongue as it invaded your mouth, his hands pushing under his Hellfire shirt.

He pulled back with a soft smile, kissing the tip of your nose before peeling the shirt off, his eyes going wide as he studied you. You watched his eyes move over every inch of you, no curve or dimple going unseen by him.

“Jesus Christ. I have to be dead. No way in hell God is letting you walk around dripping in pure sin,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. It would have made you giggle if it didn’t make your mouth dry and fanned the flames of desire in your gut.

“Eddie, please,” you sighed, hooking your heels around his waist, pulling him closer to you.

“Gimme a minute, sweetheart. I’m discovering a new religion,” he groaned, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth before sinking back into his position between your spread thighs, “And I’ve found my place of divine worship,” he smirked before burying his face in your cunt.

The sounds he was making bordered on obscene, but you weren’t much better. The high pitched breathy whines leaving your mouth would have made you embarrassed a few hours ago, but now, you couldn’t feel anything but love and desire. It wrapped around you, filling you with a warmth that only Eddie could provide.

The way he devoured you was different — the first time was fueled by a desire to tease, but this was ravenous. His eyes were rolled back as he lapped at your cunt messily, grunts and moans coming out of his mouth. His arm pinned your hips to the mattress, not letting you move an inch as his free hand toyed with your nipples lazily. The feeling of the cold chain on his wrist pressing into your soft tummy and the cold metal buckle of his watch on your hipbone kept you grounded.

“Don’t fight me, angel, let me make you feel good,” he slurred into your pussy, eyes half closed as he pulled back. “Gonna fuck you so good, sweetheart. Gonna make you feel so good,” he sighed, slipping his fingers back into your cunt with a moan, the cold of his metal rings meeting your cunt made you flinch. “See, I belong in here, she opens up for me so sweetly. Squeezin’ me so tight like she never wants to let me go. Made for me, princess. You were made for me, little bunny. I always knew you were, but now I know for sure.”

It was almost embarrassing how fast your orgasm was coming, but you could feel it building quickly. “Fuck, daddy, please,” you cried out, grabbing his forearm where it sat across your hipbones.

“That’s right baby, cum for me. Give me your blessing,” he smirked, his fingers crooking upwards, slamming into the spot that only he seemed to be able to find, and you came apart with a scream.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe let alone think, your whole body being ripped at the seams and put back together again and again, galaxies appearing in your vision and you almost understood what Eddie was talking about. You couldn’t form coherent words as you were blinded by your orgasm, only managing to mumble out a broken, “Please don’t leave,” through the tears.

“My sweet crybaby, I’m not going anywhere. I’m keeping you forever. No one will ever compare to you,” he whispered in your ear, continuing to work his fingers inside you. “Do you think you can take more, sweet girl? Or are you done for today—“

“No! Please, Eddie, I need you to fuck me,” you sobbed, nails digging into his shoulders, “I just need a second, that’s all. I want you, please.”

“Shit baby, you don’t need to beg,” Eddie laughed, kissing your forehead before pulling his fingers out of you with a groan. Through bleary eyes you could see Eddie take his fingers into his mouth, his eyes rolling back as he sucked them clean with a moan, “Fuck, angel. I’ll never get enough of how you taste. So sweet, and all for me.”

The sheer possessiveness in Eddie’s voice made you melt, a shiver running through you as he stared into your eyes, the warm brown a tiny ring around the dark black irises blown wide. “Please, Eddie, I want you to fuck me,” you pleaded, grabbing his hands.

“If you insist, baby,” he cooed gently, rolling onto his back next to you. You heard the clink of his belt coming undone, the handcuff buckle that made your head spin giving way under his dexterous fingers. You hadn’t realized you were transfixed by him, the way his fingers moved to unbutton his pants and drag the zipper down slowly before unceremoniously shoving his jeans and boxers down his long, lean legs, making you clench your thighs together with a whine. His cock sprang free and slapped against his stomach, tip already leaking.

“See something you like, princess?” he asked, making you nod wordlessly, “Good, because I’ve been painfully hard since I saw you in the bathroom, and truthfully I don’t know how long I’m gonna last baby. Your pussy tastes too good, and you’re just too damn beautiful.”

You moaned again, throwing your head back onto his pillow, choosing to ignore his chuckle as he sat between your open legs. You hummed happily feeling him part your pussy lips gently, gasping as you felt the tip of his cock drag through your folds, jolting when you felt the wet bead of pre cum on your clit. “Don’t be mean,” you pouted, opening your eyes to see Eddie smirking down at you.

“My sweet bunny, this isn’t mean,” he laughed, shaking his head, “But you like it a little mean, don’t you?”

You opened your mouth to argue with him, the words caught in your throat with a choke as the head of his cock pushed into your opening, a deep groan taking its place, “Fuck, Eddie.”

“While I do love hearing you moan my name, I rather enjoy the name you lovingly bestowed upon me,” he grinned, inching his hips forward another fraction of an inch before stopping. “Say it again, and I’ll give you what you want, princess.”

You gave in instantly, a warbley, “Please, daddy, I’ll do anything,”coming out of your mouth. The delicious burn of his thick cock splitting you open was more than you had imagined. You knew he’d be a stretch, he’d barely fit in your throat and you knew none of the toys you had hidden in your nightstand were as thick as he was.

“God, you’re just so good for me, sweetheart,” he groaned, rewarding your obedience by pushing himself forward slowly, your velvety walls opening up for him. Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes, silently slipping down the sides of your cheeks, disappearing into your hair. “I love you, my little crybaby,” he cooed, “I know you like it when I’m mean, so don’t try to lie to me. And I’m only gonna ask you this once. Do you want me to be nice, or do you want me to fuck you how I feel my girl needs to be fucked?” You couldn’t do anything but nod dumbly, making him laugh. “I thought so. It’s okay baby, let daddy take care of you.”

With that, he pushed himself all the way in, stealing the air from your lungs and whatever remaining thoughts you had as he did. You lost control of the moans coming out of your mouth, each one more strangled and desperate than the last, and you couldn’t think of anything but Eddie — the way he felt on top of you, the dark black ink that marked his chest, the toe curling pressure of his cock forcing its way into you, and the light catching the sparkly red pick he always kept around his neck swaying back and forth with the time of his thrusts.

But what consumed you was Eddie’s moans. The deep, guttural, raspy moans that sounded like music as they poured out of his throat, veins protruding from his bared neck as the ends of his frizzy hair tickled your skin. You wanted to sink your teeth into the pale expanse, marking him as yours for everyone to see, your mouth nearly watering at the idea.

“I’m not gonna last baby,” he groaned, sounding strained as he squeezed your joined hands, pressed firmly against the mattress, “Where do you want me to cum, sweetheart?”

“Inside,” you whined out, clenching around him at the thought of it as your legs tightened around his waist, locking him against you. The loud, desperate moan that came out of him seared itself into your brain as his hips stuttered to a stop, his pelvis pressed against yours as you felt his cock pulsing inside you, along with the warmth of his cum flooding into you. You didn’t fight the moan of your own at the sensation, feeling your skin tingle with sweat as you teetered on the brink of a third orgasm.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop myself,” he panted, his hips jolting every few seconds making you yelp when he ground down onto your sensitive clit, “You can’t just say shit like that and expect me not to lose it angel,” he sighed, pulling out of you with a hiss.

You whined loudly, catching his attention as you reached out for him, your hands burying in his hair as your arms wrapped around his neck.

“What do you need, sweet pea?” he asked, kissing the tears off your cheeks, “Do you need to cum again or are you too overstimulated?” he questioned softly. You couldn’t find the words to respond, only coming up with another desperate whine and a roll of your hips against his softening cock. He grinned victoriously, “That’s my dumb little baby, bein’ so desperate for me even though it hurts so good, doesn’t it?” You nodded solemnly, more tears leaking out of your eyes as you did. “I’ve got you, don’t worry princess.”

His fingers on your clit brought spots to your vision, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as you gasped and writhed against him, unable to focus on anything but the sensation of his fingers on you, and the look of absolute love and devotion in his eyes. “Kiss me,” you gasped.

The next thing you knew, his tongue was in your mouth and your body was convulsing against his hold, the rings on his fingers biting into your skin as he squeezed you impossibly closer to him with one hand and the other rubbed quick, harsh circles on your sensitive clit.

You went boneless against him, fully spent as you came down from your third high. You vaguely registered Eddie’s body moving off the bed and the sound of water running before his hands — his annoyingly pretty, devastatingly talented hands, were rubbing circles into the skin of your inner thighs with a soft washcloth before throwing it somewhere and settling himself beside you.

“You doing okay there, honey?” he asked, kissing your cheek as he maneuvered you into his lap, head resting on his chest as you laid between his open legs. “Did I go too hard?” You shook your head, giving him a soft, dazed smile.

“You were perfect Eddie,” you sighed, letting yourself relax against him, kissing the spider tattoo on his chest making him shiver and laugh.

“No, you got it wrong baby, you are perfect. Jesus Christ, letting me cum inside you and taking three orgasms like a goddamn champ? I swear you were fuckin’ made for me,” Eddie sighed dreamily, making you laugh. After a few moments of silence, he tensed and began stuttering, “I-uh-do have to ask though. A-are you, like, you know—“

“Yes, babe, I am on the pill. We don’t need any little Munson’s showing up before we even graduate,” you laughed, his body sagging in relief.

“Oh fuck, Jesus, you’re the best. I love you so fuckin’ much it should be criminal,” he sighed, kissing the top of your head.

“I love you too, Eddie.”

You sat in silence for a moment, before Eddie groaned, “Seriously though, princess. I’m gonna need you to buy a pair of shorts like, immediately. But you can not wear them to school because I will have to bend you over a desk and fuck you in front of everyone so they all know you’re mine.”

“I mean… I should still have my scoops ahoy uniform from last summer at my house? I could bring it next time—“

Eddie slunk out from under you, on his feet and pulling on his jeans before you could blink. You stared at him, mouth open as he gathered your discarded clothes and threw them to you, “Nope we’re gonna go get it now, because I need to see this.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #stranger things smut #stranger things fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson x plus size reader

[miseryoforpheus]

a letter to my grandmother

(dear lord me and my body insecurities. Anyway so I wrote a poem about them instead of going to sleep at a reasonable time :D. This one is not very good it is PURELY in existence for me to process and work thru shit.

oh ALSO. CW: if you have an eating disorder/ would be triggered by that type of thing. Yeah maybe give this one a skip. I don’t actually have an eating disorder but there’s a lot of heavy referencing to them and to guilt from eating and to my grandma being a little shit about weight and to some behaviour of mine that I think may be body checking but I’m not really sure…

also for the record in no way am I being or trying to be fatphobic. I’m absolutely not I promise I’m just voicing a lot of internalised stuff I have been told. So yeah I think that’s maybe it for warnings?)

like I said don’t judge it’s not a proper poem

I wish I was pretty

It doesn’t matter for anyone else 

For them I don’t care

I don’t judge

I’m not you

But I’m ugly

Clearly and markedly flawed

I have stretch marks see? There and there and my thighs touch and spread when I sit and a double chin when I look down and my belly doesn’t lie flat, it rounds slightly

Sometimes I’m scared I look pregnant 

I know I shouldn’t be

And I know I don’t

But that doesn’t make how I feel any less true 

And I wish I didn’t care, Fuck I wish that

But it matters when you tell me that I’m pretty 

Instead you tell me that I used to be pretty 

Back when I was skinny

I wish eating didn’t make me want to cry 

I wish you had never sat me down on your knee as a child and told me to be scared of gaining weight because how could anyone possibly love me if my hips curve?

I wish you didn’t make it sound so easy when you tell me about how if I just try harder I can do it

It is easy though isn’t it? 

If I just eat a little less and work out a little more

And water is fulfilling too 

And Diet Coke has no calories

If I tried

If I wasn’t as lazy

Or as weak-willed

I could do it

I want to do it sometimes

Live off ice and gum and water and sweeteners till I’m sick and pretty

It’s not so scary when you think about it enough

I’m not strong enough to though, that’s probably a good thing from an outside perspective 

Thing is I’m not on the outside and it’s not a good thing to me 

I wish you hadn’t done it to my mother too

Wish I hadn’t grown up in a house where she did tell me I was pretty

But only when I was prettier than someone else

‘You’re pretty’ she’ll tell me ‘you’re skinnier than me’

‘You’re pretty’ she’ll tell me ‘just look at how ugly that girl is’

I wish she wouldn’t tell me that if I just try harder I can do it

That if I stop tying my hair back to look like a little boy then I can do it

That if I wear the clothes she thinks I should wear

That if I wear the clothes she would wear if she had a body like mine

I wish every meal wasn’t tainted with the guilt of unfulfilled potential

I wish I wasn’t scared of mirrors and the way my skin folds when I pose in them

Or pictures where i smile and see how round my face is 

That ugly ugly smile

The squint you hoped would get trained out of me

The same one that she said made my eyes look small and my lips look thin 

She became you in a way, the other side to a rotten coin 

I’m scared I’m becoming you too

My biggest fear should not be to be like you

I love you, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t get so annoyed

It’s hard though, see? 

Because 

I wish I was pretty

And

I wish it didn’t matter

And

I wish I didn’t care

And

I wish it wasn’t your fault 

#the most boring soap opera #original poem #venting poetry

[kodzumaru]

cinnamon

hello! ☆ ～('▽^人) first of all, i’d like to thank you all for liking my first post! as a reward (and to make up for the sadness of my first dazai drabble), i have written some fluff for you!!

dazai osamu x gender neutral reader: baking cinnamon rolls together  (๑˘︶˘๑)

trigger warnings: none (i thought about warning you on mentions of food, but there are no references on disordered eating or unhealthy eating habits, so i guess you’re safe reading this; but if you think i should put a warning, feel more than free to correct me!)

“are you sure we are doing this right, darling?” dazai asked, letting out a sigh. you had dragged him to the kitchen demanding to bake something sweet together. he was being lazy as usual lying on the couch, and you had spent about 12 minutes struggling to convince him to join you; you offered to make apple pies, strawberry shortcakes, chocolate chip cookies, but he still found his book more interesting than getting his (very) pretty hands dirty in dough.

that was until you mentioned baking cinnamon rolls.

it was almost imperceptible; the way his eyes slightly widened and the corners of his lips perked up- that was all it took for you to understand, after years of dating him. “you know, you could just ask me to cook what you like, instead of making me guess every single time, you dork.” you smiled, tugging at his sleeve. “we’re baking together, so put your book down and wash your hands, okay?” he chuckled and shook his head.

“you know how terrible i am at cooking,” dazai replied, but you were no longer on his side as he reached the kitchen sink. you excitedly jumped to the other side of the room to prepare the ingredients on the island table, humming some tune you’d heard on the radio. dazai relished the view quietly, his protests long forgotten.

you neatly placed the ingredients in place, before asking dazai to grab the flour from the cabinet for you, as he was given the gift of being tall. you started heating a cup of milk and adding two teaspoons of yeast. you felt soft lips colliding with your forehead and suddenly your boyfriend appeared by your side again, with the required sugar in the cup in his hands. you accepted it smiling before adding it to the mix. “osamu, can i trust you with the eggs?”

you couldn’t help the giggles escaping you as he looked thoroughly focused on his task, squinting his eyes and biting his lip, his tongue sticking out. he managed to keep the egg yolk separated from the whites, so he turned to look at you, waiting for his prized reward. you kissed his cheek and laughed at his pout.

the two of you proceeded to add melted butter and flour to the mix, and you entrusted dazai with forming the dough with the help of a  wooden spoon.

“alright, now we have to wait,” you announced while covering the bowl with the dough with a plastic wrap. dazai looked almost disappointed, so you figured he wasn’t totally hating the activity. “do i get a proper reward if i behave in the meantime?” he pouted, making grabby hands.

“you know you can just ask me to kiss you, right?” you smiled. dazai always struggled to ask for the things he wanted, he would always try to obtain them by using his smart brain instead of using his words to ask clearly. whatever the reason for his behavior was, you wanted him to feel safe with you. “you don’t need to behave for me to kiss you.” you said, leaning in.

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆

you heard the timer ring as you were sitting on the couch, dazai’s head in your lap. he grumbled at the loud sound, as he was soundly napping in a comfortable position. “hmm, i guess you did enough work for today,” you chirped happily at the cute sight, before reluctantly getting up and back to baking your boyfriend’s favorite sweets.

fast forward a couple hours, you and dazai were sitting at the dining table, and he merrily rocked back and forth in his chair as you fed him spoonfuls of the freshly baked cinnamon rolls.

“everything tastes better when it’s you who made it!”

#bungou stray dogs #dazai #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai fluff #fluff #baking

[neurodiversebones]

so almost everyone in the squint squad has established childhood trauma (brennan, booth, sweets), what was all of their mental health like when they were younger? how did they cope? i hope you're doing alright!!!

OH i really adore this question !!! i <3 angst potential and i love these mf's sad backstories . gonna be honest, this is darker than most things i've posted before. it's mostly based on my own experiences and the experiences of a lot of my close friends- i'm gonna put a trigger warning for mention of abuse, self harm, eating disorders , substance abuse (drugs and alcohol), and suicide under the read more . please take care of yourselves !!! nothing is given graphic detail, but use your judgement and please don't read if it'll trigger you . i love you !!!

this evolved past just . their younger years and kind of became their Journeys with their mental health . i have a lot of thoughts pls ask me more about this omg :-))

i wrote so fucking much about this btw . i didn't know i had that many thoughts about this until i started writing and couldn't stop . my brain is Buzzing with angst for them .

brennan : brennan's mental health was always a little rocky, since she really struggled with loneliness in school, and didn't have many friends . as a kid, she never really understood why people didn't like her. she knew there was something different about her, but she couldn't see why people were so mean to her- the bullying lasted pretty much from the time she started school to graduation, and it was hell. a lot of adults didn't believe her or want to help her, and so she spent a lot of her childhood thinking that it was her fault she felt so alone. she didn't get to experience friendships as a kid, and despite learning being her favourite thing in the world, school was never a safe place for her.

however , once her parents left it got a Lot worse- the abandonment, and subsequent abuse she experienced in foster care, is what triggered her to develop ptsd. she was in some really bad homes- we get a few of the details in canon (like the family that locked her in the trunk of a car for breaking a dish), but there was always more. some were outright violently abusive, like that one, some were neglectful, and some, while not actively horrible, made it very clear that they didn't care much for her and she wasn't really a part of their family. she struggled with a lot of depression and hopelessness in her teen years because of this- the abuse was really difficult to deal with, and she turned to self harm and an eating disorder as a way to give herself some control over the situation. she spent almost all her time hiding away in her room studying, so between that and the constantly chaotic living situations, nobody even noticed what she was doing to herself. a social worker made her do therapy once, but she refused to speak the entire session, and continued to do so until she was allowed to quit. it hurt her, that nobody cared enough to notice that she was hurting herself, but she didn't want to ask for help because she refused to rely on anyone else after she'd already been abandoned once.

this, along with passive suicidality, followed her into adulthood, especially because she refused to address the problem or seek help. even for a good part of canon (really, up until season 6), we see her struggle with her mental health, struggling to understand the trauma she experienced as well as struggling to comprehend that even with all of that in her past, she can have positive relationships. her friendships helped her a lot though !! her friends at the jeffersonian were pretty much the first time in her life she wasn't... alone. this, along with actually finally seeking out help (therapy and meds), helped her to recover so she could finally feel Alive again (a big motivation for her was so that she could be a good mom to christine and hank <3) .

booth : we know from canon that booth has ptsd and experienced suicidal thoughts in his childhood . the trauma of the abuse from his dad fucked him up a lot- when he was a kid, he didn't really let it show, since he was in survival mode. he tried to be the best he could, be charming and happy and smart, both to avoid the abuse and to make sure nobody found out, since it was guaranteed that would make it worse. once he and jared were finally able to escape it and go live with their grandfather, it was the first time he actually let himself feel those feelings, and it was bad. his trauma manifested through anger- he wanted to hurt his dad for the torture he put them through, but he couldn't, so he took it out on himself instead. i think he struggled a lot with self harm in his youth and teen years, and continued to struggle with suicidal thoughts. he attempted, once, in highschool, but just woke up the next morning and pretended everything was fine. none of his friends ever knew he was hurting, most of them didn't even know about what he'd gone through as a kid. but his grandfather found the note in his room that day and talked to him about it when he got home, and he cried for probably the first time in years. that's what got him to finally accept help- he didn't realize how bad it was until that conversation.

another thing that was really triggering for him was alcohol- he was a football player, and all his friends were party boys. they drank a lot, and he usually avoided it. the most he ever had was a single beer, since he was terrified of losing control and being like his father. there was one time he got wasted- it was at a party, and he stumbled home that night. jared was in the kitchen, getting something to eat . booth was about 16 then, so jared was only 12 or 13. jared saw that he was drunk, and completely froze in fear, completely having a flashback. this fucked booth up- he was absolutely terrified of drinking from there on out, and was pretty much 100% sober until he was out of college.

angela : angela's mental health was pretty good until her late teen years (around 16). she had good friends, lots of hobbies, and she was really close with her dad. we don't know what happened to her mom, but i suspect it wasn't anything good- either she died when angela was young, or left. angela had some Issues with that, but it wasn't a huge deal for most of her life, since it had almost always been just her and her dad. when she was about sixteen though, things got rough- this is when her bipolar started, and it was really hard. she would cycle really rapidly in between manic and depressive episodes, and had some really terrifying mixed episodes as well (which can be really dangerous). she started getting more self destructive too- she developed an eating disorder around this time (bulimia), and started engaging in a lot of reckless behaviour that she could excuse by being a "party girl". she would binge drink, experiment with drugs, have reckless sex, etc. people worried about her, but she didn't even understand how dangerous any of it was until she hit rock bottom right at the end of her junior year. she was wildly depressed, and could barely get out of bed- her dad pulled her out of school, and she spent the last month of the school year just trying to get better. he cancelled a bunch of tour dates just to be with her and help her recover, and with a lot of help, things did start to get better.

her senior year, she didn't feel like going back to the place that had her so ill. and so she did her final year through homeschool, and spent it on the road with her dad. this was the best decision she ever made- it's where she fell in love with art, painting all the beautiful things she saw and learning to express how she was feeling through creation rather than destruction. when she goes to college the next year , she's in a MUCH more stable place and although she still struggles, she's much better at coping.

hodgins : hodgins started struggling with his mental health at a pretty young age (like, early middle school), but because of his families status, it was frowned upon to talk about. he didn't understand what was going on with him, just that he was so, so angry and sad all the time. he thought that something was wrong with him, that he was broken in some way, but he knew instinctively that it was something he wasn't supposed to talk about. he realized he was trans sometime around this age too, which really impacted his mental health- his dysphoria was really bad at this time, since there was nothing he could do about it. he had to keep his hair long, wear the "girls" uniform at school, act like a "proper lady" when his family was around. there was so much anger and sadness inside of him that he just didn't understand or know what to do with, which lead to a long battle with self harm that continued into his adulthood. his parents were aware of this, they just... wanted to ignore it until it went away.

when he was an older teenager, there was more he could do- he chopped all his hair off, which infuriated his parents, and was constantly in detention in school for refusing to wear the "proper" uniform. he wouldn't respond to his deadname, only jack, which got him in a lot of shit both in school and at home. he was already hurting himself as a way to rebel against this, but turned to drinking and drugs as another way to say "fuck you" to his family and the life he never felt like he belonged in. he fell in with a rougher crowd, since they were the only ones who understood and accepted him, and got into a bunch of trouble as a teen. he doesn't like to think back on those years. through university, he cleaned up his act a little, but really only on the outside. he was still wildly depressed, drinking, and so goddamn angry. it wasn't until he found his passion in school that he really started to care about his life- but once he found it, he realized he really did want to live. it was still really fucking hard, but he started to try to get better. he stayed mostly no-contact with his family, and started engaging in life more, trying to find hobbies and friends and have relationships that didn't revolve around just suffering and surviving together.

cam : cam grew up with a big pressure to be the perfect child placed upon her- she was the oldest daughter, and spent her whole childhood being "the smart one". she was really popular too, and from the outside looked like she had everything. but she really struggled with loneliness, and didn't feel like she fit in anywhere due to her undiagnosed autism and the pressure to constantly mask. the pressure of keeping up with her friends, of having perfect grades, of getting into the perfect school, of making her parents proud... caught up with her a lot once she was in her mid-late teen years. her eating disorder started around 15, and it offered her a huge sense of control in a world where she didn't feel like she had much- it was the easiest way to get away with hurting herself too. and it got her the approval and praise she wanted so badly- she looked like she was being healthy, and everyone praised her for how "good" she looked. it helped her fit in.

speaking of fitting in, her loneliness and the pressure to mask was really hard in highschool. sure, she had lots of friends, but she didn't feel like she connected with a single one of them. she knew there was something different about her, but she just couldn't figure out what it was. and so, she did everything in her power to try seem "normal". her friends were big party-goers, and so she would be too. she would drink... a somewhat concerning amount at parties. it was the only time she wasn't stressing about looking "right", about acting "normal". she was fun, and bubbly, and people liked her. boys liked her, her friends were too drunk to care that she was so obviously different to them, and she wasn't worried for once in her life. it doesn't help that alcohol and restrictive eating disorders is a known Really Bad Combination.

her ocd was also a big part of why she needed so much control in her life- her ocd started in childhood, around age 9. people thought she was just an anxious kid and a bit of a drama queen, but it was really scary for her. she had a lot of intrusive thoughts about the people around her getting hurt, and so her compulsions were really urgent and terrifying because she was so scared of things being her fault. in her teen years, her ocd fed into her ed a lot, but it also isolated her even further- she was so scared of being ostracized that she never enjoyed herself and . it sucked, to be the person who was always smiling but never really felt happy.

#this is over 2100 words btw . i've written essays significantly shorter than this . it's 5.5 pages double spaced . #this is so special to me though i have so many more thoughts please ask me more about any of these things #also i know i mentioned drug use and there's gonna be SOMEONE who's shitty about it so . if ur gonna demonize addicts just block me atp . #i don't wanna hear it #mental health headcanons #temperance brennan #seeley booth #angela montenegro #jack hodgins #cam saroyan #bones tv #bones tv headcanons

[ao3feed-spuffy]

Sick and Bloodless

by Queer_Skies_Ahead

Spike was trying really hard.

His head had been spinning for hours now. He gave up on standing up long ago; Every time he tried, a new wave of nausea would hit him like a truck. Last time, he nearly fell over and landed back on the bed, reeling from the exertion and trying not to make his insides his outsides. Everything fucking hurt.

Or

Spike is sick, and his refusal to drink blood isn't helping anything. Buffy finds him looking half dead and delirious from fever and decides to do something about it.

Words: 919, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M, Other

Characters: Spike (BtVS), Buffy Summers, Xander Harris

Relationships: Spike/Buffy Summers, Spike & Buffy Summers, Xander Harris & Buffy Summers

Additional Tags: Sickfic, Sick Character, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Fluff, Xander Slander, Buffy takes care of Spike, Worried Buffy, Reluctant Caretaker, soft spike, Soft Buffy, Flu, Delirious Character, Friendship, Implied Romance, If You Squint - Freeform, Mentioned Dawn Summers, uhhh what else, Starvation, Eating Disorder, Not really but tagging for the trigger warning, alcohol mentioned, Mentioned drunkness, Not actually drunk but they talk about it, Unrequited Love, But its fine cuz theyre friends, Unintentional flirting

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/43201801

#ao3feed #ao3feed-spuffy #spuffy #buffy x spike

[raging-violets]

Person A wiping away Person B’s tears + your choice!

Big Time Rush: I Feel So // Prompt // Kendall and Rhuben (OC)

A/N: A recent review on an old BTR fic of Riley’s and seeing Leaf’s (@witchofinterest) casting of their BTR OCs for us made me finally come around to how I want to write this. So, thank you!

By: Rhuben

Trigger Warning: Abuse mention, Eating disorder mention

Tag List: @partiallypearl @foxesandmagic @darknightfrombeyond @deputyvilmoskovacs

-

“Let’s do it again.” Kendall planted his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. He watched Rhuben’s reflection pause in sliding her hand into the pocket of her cargo pants. “Come on,” he urged when she pulled her mouth to the side, casting his reflection a curious glance. He grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and pulled it up to his bright red face, sopping us as much sweat as he could before it pooled on his face again. “Let’s do it again.”

Kendall sighed through his nose when Rhuben didn’t answer but removed a small remote control from her pocket and aimed it at the stereo in the corner, cutting the loud repeated clicking metronome that pulsated around the room. His second heavy sigh was suddenly the loudest thing in the room. “I thought you’d want me to do it again.”

It wasn’t unusual for practically the only words out of Rhuben’s mouth during dance practice was “Again.” He could barely catch his breath, finishing the final eight count of a song before he was commanded to start over. It wasn’t like it wasn’t good practice; a two-hour concert was all about consistent movement. And as Big Time Rush’s popularity as the modern-day boy band craze grew, he knew he needed all the extra practice he could get. He was lauded for it in regards to hockey, how was this any different?

“You’ve already done it six times in a row, mate,” Rhuben pointed out to him. Still speaking to his reflection in the wall of mirrors stretched out in front of them. She tapped her chin with the remote before flipping it in the air, catching it. “You need a break.”

“I’ll take a break after this one,” Kendall replied. “Seventh time’s a charm, right?” He laced his fingers together and slid his hands over the top of his head, nearly knocking his gray (now dark gray because of his sweat) beanie off of his head to clasp his hands at the back of his neck. His chest slowly lifted and fell with each deep breath. He closed his eyes. “Come on, just one more time. You guys go through songs like six times in a row.”

“Kendall,” Rhuben said, dropping her arm down to the side, giving him an incredulous look, “we’ve got five formations for our songs. You lot don’t. You have your place and you hit your mark. That’s it. Don’t make it any harder than it needs to be.”

“So…” he lifted his foot, stretching out his long leg nudging her thigh with the point of his toe. He gave a half smile in response to her reluctant chuckle at her forced movement. She slid the remote back into her pocket. “Let’s do it again, help me make sure I hit my marks.”

Rhuben lifted her hands and pulled her sweaty, stringy purple-black hair from her face, holding it in a ponytail between her hands. She squinted her piercing blue eyes at him, finally turning to look at his real-life form instead of his mirror self. “You don’t have to do that,” she said, releasing her hair.

“Do what?” Kendall asked, frustration starting to creep into his voice. He closed his eyes, taking in another deep breath. He just wanted to go through the dance again, was that too much to ask?

“Punish yourself,” Rhuben replied. Kendall’s eyes popped open, and he gave her a look that was part curiosity and part annoyance.

“Punish myself for what?” he asked with more bite than he meant to. Rhuben’s eyebrows shot upwards, eyes narrowing slightly as she leaned away from him in a semi-recoil. “Sorry.” She still didn’t say a word. “Boy you look so much like Riley when you do that.”

Rhuben laughed through her nose. Bowing her head for a moment, she took a step towards him, lifted her head, and clicked her tongue before saying, “Punishing yourself for inviting your dad to the album listening party.”

Kendall dropped his arms down to his sides. “That’s not…It’s not like…I didn’t…" he tried again and again to come up with a sentence but found himself stumbling over his own words. He already felt stupid for the whole situation, anyway. As if his dad would actually decide to be a parent this many years later. He could barely remember a time where his dad showed up for school functions as a kid, why would this be any different? “How’d you…?”

“There’s a thing about growing up in a violent home that allows you to develop a sort of superpower called perception,” Rhuben said, waving her hand in the air. “You learn people’s moods and vibes based on how they walk, close a door, put down a glass. Enter a room, even, yeah?”

He gave a slight nod his head, looking away from her. Yes, he did understand. He understood that his mom’s smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and over the top enthusiastic greeting when he climbed into the car after hockey practice meant that she and his dad had another huge fight. He could feel how unsettlingly still the house was the second he and arrived home after school; knew it was better to keep her preoccupied and as quiet as possible.

Rhuben reached out a hand and prodded his cheek where his dimple would be apparent if he hadn’t formed his mouth into a straight line. Catching his attention. “It’s not just in the face, but I saw your face when you got the word that you could invite people to the party, and I saw it when your dad didn’t show up. Again. You were disappointed.”

Kendall talked over the end of her sentence with a swift, “No, I wasn’t.”

She was silent for a moment, her blue eyes briefly going steely. Then she calmed. “Ok. You weren’t.” Rhuben shrugged. She lowered herself into a seated position on the vinyl flooring. “You want to know how Ronan was able to spot my disordered eating so quickly?”

“I—huh?” Kendall asked, not expecting the change in serious topics. He started tapping his foot; impatiently, and to give himself something to do. “Sure.”

“Because he could see it on my face,” Rhuben explained. “At least, it’s how he explained it to me. He reckons I get this calculated look on my face when I’m starting to be triggered. He can see on my face when I’m calculating how many calories are in something I want to eat, or how long I need to exercise to burn it off.” She indicated the room with a wave of her hand. “I love dance, but I can also use it to punish myself for eating more than I planned. Gaining a single pound. Falling out of a turn. I work harder and longer to ‘get back on track’. I think you’re really pushing yourself, and not being your usually annoying self I might add—” Kendall managed a half smile, “because you want to exhaust yourself enough so that you never think of anything like that again.”

“No,” Kendall shook his head, “I want to get better so I can show him that I don’t need him anymore.” Surprised at the sudden tears that collected in his eyes, and at how spontaneously the words tumbled out of his mouth – he had been thinking about it for so long but hadn’t dared brought any reality to the words – he grabbed the collar of his shirt and pressed the damp fabric into his face with the heels of his palms.

Shoulders shaking despite his best attempt at controlling his breathing, Kendall sank into a crouched position, pressing his elbows into his knees. His hot breath, the hot tears soaking into his damp shirt, he suddenly felt uncomfortable being surrounded by clammy air. Uncomfortable at how just at the surface this all was that it could fall out of him as easily as it was.

“Hey.” Kendall peeked out from the collar of his shirt when he felt Rhuben’s hand start to rub small circles in between his shoulder blades. She gave him a gentle smile, reaching for his face to wipe away the tears that clung to his lases with the sweatbands on her wrists. Rhuben’s lips parted into a toothy (excited?) smile, her eyes flashing mischievously. “I can’t wait for the day where you can say that to the bloke’s face.”

“Yeah, neither can I,” Kendall agreed, his own smile blossoming by the second. He sucked in a deep breath of air through his nose before letting it out in a cleansing breath. “Thanks, Benny.”

“What I’m here for,” Rhuben said in a sing-song tone. Then a serious tone came to her voice despite the smile that still sat on her face. “I’m also here to run you into the ground just to get this dance right.”

“Ok,” Kendall said, clapping his hands together. He pulled himself to his feet and reached for Rhuben’s hands, pulling her to her own. “Then let’s do this.”

“Goody.” Rhuben retrieved the remote from her pocket and pointed it at the stereo. But she didn’t start the music again. Instead, she pivoted on the balls of her feet and pointed at him. “You know, even if your dad doesn’t show up to your events, Big Time Rush has only gotten bigger, so he’s bound to have seen how well you’re doing without him by now.”

“Sure,” Kendall agreed, stretching his arms across his chest. “I’d just rather him see it in person.” He twisted away from her, looking at her reflection in the mirror out of the corner of his eye. He said quietly, “Give him one last chance to say that he’s proud of me, or something. I don’t know.”

“Ok. Then let’s make. This. Look. Good!” Rhuben said, doing a combination that looked like the running man mixed in with a cheerleader move.

Kendall burst out laughing, adjusting the beanie on his head before extending his right hand towards her. Rhuben, bouncing on the balls of her feet, slapped his palm twice with hers before they both snapped their fingers, finishing their handshake.

Intimate Ideas | Ask Box

#witchofinterest #answered ask #ask #inbox game #authored by: rhuben #by: rhuben #prompt #big time rush #kendall knight #oc: rhuben jackson #i've missed writing them you guys #tw abuse mention #tw eating disorder mention

[a-child-in-the-garden]

Put a Little Faith in Me

Hi, this makes me nervous to post, but here goes. 

This goes out to all my plus-size babes. If you’re anything like me, you’ve found your size to be the reason for trouble in your dating life. Whether your own insecurity, or the hurtful words of others, or being looked over because of society’s standards of what a person (particularly women) should look like. I’ve seen some more body-positive fics recently (Such as this one I just read recently by @greatervanfleet ! ) and I think it’s so good and so important to write more plus-size representation into romantic stories. It can be so hard to think of ourselves as beautiful and worthy of being desired. If you find writing about a negative body image to be triggering, please don’t read this, but I’ve found that this type of fiction has really helped me to remember my desirability. HOWEVER, I don’t want anyone to think that the male gaze is what makes or breaks their beauty. You’re stunning exactly as you are, and you don’t need anyone else to prove that to you. As usual, this is all fiction and doesn’t reflect any of the real characters mentioned. 

Just a reminder that you’re all hot and I love you ;). I’m basing this Y/N character off someone my own size, I wear like a 20/22 (US sizing), 2/3X clothes. I’ve dated guys who were much smaller than me, and I’m trying to help normalize that in the fic world. This is not at all dissing thinner people, nor the writing of thin characters, because all bodies are good bodies and every size should be represented and loved. Okay, spiel over, enjoy!! This is gonna be Josh X Reader, bc I’m a twin girl at heart but if you like this and want to see a similar theme with the other guys, lmk! 

Also, this is a College AU I guess? 

WARNINGS: Negative self-image, insecurity about weight, mentions of unhealthy/disordered eating habits if you squint, use of the word “f*t” to describe a plus-size person (characters says about themself). 

Your alarm blared in your ear. Fuck, already? It felt like your head had just hit the pillow minutes before, but your alarm let you know otherwise. It was a Saturday, so normally you’d be sleeping in, but you’d agreed to go to the art museum with your high school friends since it was spring break. You hadn’t seen them since you’d all left for school the previous summer. You were nervous to see them, knowing that you’d put on the famous “freshman fifteen” with all the late nights of studying and junk food. You were already self conscious about your weight for the entire time you’d known them, and none of the boys had ever said or done anything to make you feel bad about yourself, but your own brain did enough to make you dread having to pick out an outfit you didn’t feel awful in. Especially since you’d harbored a crush for your best friend, Josh, since you’d known him. You knew it was silly to worry about it. He’d never see you that way, and you knew it. With one more heavy sigh, you picked yourself up and out of your bed and headed to shower. You didn’t let yourself look at your naked form for long before stepping into the shower and trying to forget your worries. He’d seen you in pictures on your social media, you tell yourself. He’ll already know that you gained more weight. You tried to tell yourself that it wasn’t even that noticeable, and that he wouldn’t care. You were already his fat friend. You scolded yourself for using that word to describe yourself silently as the water slid through your hair and down your body. He’d told you before that you were beautiful, but isn’t that what all nice friends tell each other? 

You shook the thoughts from your head and the water from your hair as you stepped out, thankful that the steam had fogged up your mirror enough to obscure your reflection. You swiped a small enough section of the condensation so you could see your face to finish your morning routine of brushing your teeth and hair, then putting on some light makeup. Next was the task of finding an outfit. It might’ve been spring, but Michigan was still chilly this time of year, so you landed on some jeans that hugged your curves nicely, and a sweater that hid the parts you didn’t want on display. You paired it with your favorite boots and jewelry before grabbing your purse and heading out to meet the boys at the Kiszka’s house. You’d always used their house as a home base, seeing as three of the five of your group already lived there. Throughout high school, you and Danny practically had too, with as much as you were there. You took the familiar and short trip to their house, pausing to collect yourself in the driveway. Why were you nervous? These were your favorite people in the world. They loved you, you reminded yourself. You didn’t have much time to get lost in thought before you saw Sammy stick his head out the front door and wave wildly at you. You couldn’t help the grin that plastered your face as you got out of your car and went up to the door to greet him. “Hey stranger” he said, pulling you into a hug. “Hi Sammy, it’s good to see you. Staying in trouble, I presume?” You asked with a laugh. “Ah, Y/N, you know me too well.” He said with a wink. “C‘mon, everyone else is getting breakfast and coffee in the kitchen.” Your stomach lurched a little at the thought of breakfast. You had of course eaten with the boys before, but time away from them had also taken some of your habitual comfort around them with it. You had hated eating in front of people since getting to college. Worried that all the new people would be judging on the amount you ate. If it was too much, because of your size, if it was too little bc they thought you were starving yourself. You figured you at least have some coffee. You let Sam lead you to the kitchen, even though you’d been there a million times. 

Walking in you were met with a blast from the past. The other boys were making coffee and talking and laughing, only looking up when they heard the two of you enter. You were greeted with a resounding “Y/N!!” As the boys all came to give you hugs. Danny was closest, pulling you into a bear hug and telling you he had missed you. Jake did the same, and then was Josh. You closed your eyes and breathed in the familiar scent of him, mixed with coffee. He held on tightly for an extra moment before pulling back to look you in the eyes. “Hi mama, it’s so good to see you, you look great.” 

You blushed at his compliment. “Thanks, Josh, so do all of you.” You said, turning to look at the other guys, hoping that breaking your eye contact with him would will away the redness in your cheeks. “Did you eat yet, Y/N?” Jake asked innocently. “We’ve got food and coffee”. 

You shifted a little nervously. “Oh I’m okay, I’ll take some coffee though.” Josh narrowed his eyes at you slightly “Are you sure? We’ve got your favorite kind of donut. Sam and Danny stopped by the shop this morning.” You chuckled nervously. “They got up early enough to do that? I’m impressed.” You tried to deflect the question with humor, but Josh saw through you. “Yes, I know, miracles aside, it’ll be a long day if you don’t eat, mama.” You internally sighed at the nickname and knew you couldn’t resist what he was asking of you. “Alright, just because you went through the trouble of getting it for me, thank you boys.” You reluctantly took the donut from Josh while he put together your coffee how you liked it. He handed you the mug when he was done and watched you take a bite of the donut. “That’s my girl,” he said quietly, smiling at you. You gave him a small smile back, but on the inside you were thinking of what other foods you’d have to cut out of your day to make up for indulging in that much sugar. You all sat in various places in the kitchen, eating and catching up on the months you’d spent apart. You told them about your classes and about people at school, they told you about the music they were working on and you made them promise to play for you when you got back from the museum. 

Once you’d all finished, you headed to the boys’ van and all piled in. Jake insisted on driving, but needed Danny to navigate for him, so you, Josh, and Sam piled into the back, with Josh in the middle and you and Sam on either side of him. You had made the rule with them a long time ago that you refused to take the middle seat, joking with them that they were much scrawnier and didn’t need as much room. They could tell it made you uncomfortable, so they never pushed the issue and always made sure you had an outer seat. Your shoulder still pressed into Josh’s and you wondered if he could feel the size difference between the two of you. How one of your arms was the size of two of his combined. You pushed the thoughts from your head as the guys started playing music loudly and singing along in their signature goofy way. You couldn’t help but join in with them. “So, Y/N, any boys at school that we need to fight off?” Sam asked, leaning past Josh to look at you. You scoffed at the question. “Oh Sammy, you know there aren’t.” You tried to sound lighthearted instead of pathetic, but you weren’t sure you pulled it off. “Oh come on, Y/N, I figured they’d all be falling over themselves for your attention by now.” You rolled your eyes at this. “I appreciate the flattery, Sam, but there are much prettier girls than me at school.” 

Josh had been quiet up to this point, but he broke his silence saying “I doubt that.” You looked at him, trying not to blush. You figured he was just trying to make you feel good too, but he seemed very serious. “I just think you guys have been looking at the same girls your whole life, and to be fair, there’s not much happening in Frankenmuth.” You laughed nervously, trying to pull the focus away from your appearance. “Y/N,” said Josh. “Don’t tell me that you’re smart enough to get into college, but you still don’t know how pretty you are.” 

You swallowed hard. “I don’t know, I guess I just don’t think of myself that way.” You refused to meet his eyes. Josh sensed your discomfort and decided to not press any further, instead deciding to hold one of your hands in both of his, rubbing his thumb against the backs of your knuckles. You had only spoken to Josh a small handful of times about your self-image. There had been times where your insecurity had become debilitating, to the point of you trying to find excuses to not see your friends or avoiding any activities that involved swimsuits or food or anything that triggered your self-doubt. He’d been there for you in those moments, always gently encouraging and reassuring you. After a while, he leaned closer to you, whispering, “I think those boys at school are so lucky that they get to see your beauty everyday.” You squeezed his hand, saying a small thank you. You weren’t going to let your body image ruin your day of fun with your boys. You’d done that too many times in the past and you rarely got to see them anymore. 

You brought the energy in the car back up by asking the boys about their music again, and they all lit up, fighting for dominance in the conversation to tell you about their different parts. You laughed and smiled along as they animatedly explained all the different songs to you that they were working on. Before long, you reached the museum. You all hopped out and went in to get your tickets. You found a map and busied yourself with figuring out where you wanted to go first when you looked up and realized that Jake, Sam, and Danny had already run off to explore, leaving you and Josh. “Well, so much for coming up with a planned route.” You giggled at Josh. “You know how they are.” He said with a laugh. “Well, Josh, what would you like to see first?” You asked him. “I know you’re a sucker for the classics, so I thought we could start there and then I really wanted to see that new statue garden they installed.” Your cheeks pinkened at his consideration for your tastes. “Sounds great.” You replied. The two of you made your way to the classical European painting section, pointing out your favorite pieces to each other, laughing at the ones that made no sense to you. It was easy being with him when you didn’t let your brain get in the way. You had to admit, as much as you’d missed the others, it was nice to have this time alone with him. You kept having to remind yourself that this wasn’t a date, but the way his eyes held just as much admiration when looking at you as they did when he looked at the art made it hard to remember. When you’d had your fill of that section, you decided to head out to the statue garden. It was absolutely stunning. There was a surprising amount of greenery, despite the Michigan temperatures and the statues were absolutely perfect. You and Josh stood side by side looking at a statue of a woman. She wasn’t real, you reminded yourself. She was sculpted out of stone, made to be perfect. You were made of flesh. Flesh was supposed to be soft and imperfect. “Why don’t you do the same pose as her? I’ll take your picture.” Josh offered with a smile. “Oh I don’t think so, she’s too perfect.” You said, tugging at the edge of your sweater. “Y/N, I think she should be the one that worried about being out done.” He said sweetly. “Josh, I’ll look huge next to her.” Your voice had gotten shaky and your eyes were threatening tears. His eyebrows knit together. “C’mere mama.” He grabbed your hand and sat you down next to him on the nearby bench. “What’s wrong, mama? I didn’t mean to upset you.” He looked at you with a worried expression. You used the sleeve of your sweater to wipe at your eyes. “I know, Josh, I’m sorry I’m being so high maintenance today. I just look at all these depictions of beautiful women and I look nothing like them. They’re all thin and perfect and I’m not.” His expression softened. “Y/N, you know those words aren’t synonymous, right? You’re so gorgeous. You don’t have to look exactly like them to be exactly as beautiful. I meant what I said earlier about those boys being lucky to see you everyday. You’re stunning.” You looked up at him through your watery lashes. “Do you really mean that? You don’t have to say stuff just to make me feel better.” He pulled your hands into his lap. “I mean it. We may be at the art museum, but I have yet to see anything more beautiful than you here.” You laughed bitterly at his words. “That can’t be true. I’m just me. And there’s too much of me. I feel so gross, Josh. I can’t stand seeing how much bigger I am than these girls and how big I am next to you. A picture would just further prove that. I just don’t wanna see it.” 

“Oh mama, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. That’s not at all how I see you. When I look at you, all I see is your radiant smile, your beautiful curves. I see my best friend and  I wouldn’t want there to be any less of you.” He said tenderly. 

“Thank you, Josh, but I just don’t think you understand. Girls like me don’t get the guy, they don’t get the happily-ever-after that thin girls do. They aren’t noticed, or loved, or wanted. We get to be funny, we get to be used for our boobs and our ass, then we get told that we’re not good enough to be anything more than that. Being a muse is a skinny girl’s job.” You were crying by this point. Josh leaned forward and wiped a tear from your face. “Y/N, it breaks my heart that you think about yourself like that. I’m an idiot for not doing enough to make you think differently.” He said. You looked at him and smiled weakly. “It’s not your responsibility, Josh. You’re a great friend. You’ve never made me feel like that, it’s just my stupid brain and society’s stupid ideas about what I should or shouldn’t be.” He nodded before saying “Would you believe me if I told you that you are noticed, loved, and wanted?” You laughed. “Not really. Despite what you and Sammy think, there are exactly zero guys that have been begging for my attention.” Josh smiled at you. “Well, I haven’t begged yet, but if that’s what it takes, I’m willing to go there.” You were taken aback by his words. “Yes, Josh, I know you and the guys love me, but not like that. You guys are my friends, you’re like obligated to say this stuff.” He shook his head and said “Y/N, I’m telling you that I love you like that. I have for a long time. I was just too stupid to tell you. You’re the only girl I’ve had eyes for since I met you. I’m sorry that you’ve believed all this time that I couldn’t want you because of your weight. A number on a scale or a stretch mark or whatever it is that makes you think you’re unlovable doesn’t mean a damn thing to me. Because it’s never stopped me. I love you, Y/N. I want you.” Your eyes were completely wide, your breathing shaky. “Really?” You asked, still not believing your ears. “You really mean all that? You’re not saying it just to save my feelings?” He laughed at your disbelief. “Yes, mama, I thought the part about me confessing my feelings for you for years and saying I wanted you was fairly clear, but like I said, I’ll beg if I have to.” He said, holding your hands more tightly. “I’m sorry, my brain is just saying that it isn’t possible for you to possibly feel that way about me.” He tilted his head slightly “What’s so impossible is that you don’t see yourself the way I see you. I thought you always knew you were too good for me.” You laughed out loud at his words. “Too good for you? Never.” You said with a smile before continuing “I love you too, Josh.” He leaned forward and wiped another tear from your face before softly touching his lips to yours. You both sighed against each other’s mouths before you shyly pulled away. “Does that help make it feel more real?” He asked with a grin. “Yes and simultaneously no.” You laughed. “Ah, well I guess, if it’s okay with you, I’ll just have to keep doing it until you’re convinced.” He said with a shrug. You laughed and replied. “Mmm, I don’t know, I can be pretty stubborn.” He pulled you in again for a another kiss, this one a little longer. He pulled away, but held your face close to his saying “You’re seriously so gorgeous, Y/N. I’ll prove it to everyday as long as you’ll let me.” You kissed the tip of his nose and said “I think I might just let you.” He then pulled you into a hug, rubbing circles into your back. “Thank you, Josh. You’re definitely the one that’s too good for me. Thank you for being so patient with me.” He nodded into your shoulder. “You deserve it, love. I’m sorry I didn’t start sooner.” You pulled back to look at him. “You still wanna take that picture?” His eyes lit up. “You want to? You really don’t have to if it’ll make you uncomfortable, I just think you look like a Greek Goddess walking next to me.” He said sheepishly. You giggled at his words.”Okay, Adonis, come take this picture before I change my mind.” You stood up and fixed your sweater and wiped your eyes before going and mimicking the pose of the statue. And for once, you didn’t worry about sucking in your stomach, or worrying whether or not your double chin was visible. You knew that Josh would look at you like you were sculpted by the gods themselves anyway.

#j.m.k. x reader

[ao3feed-crimeboys]

Luck, Bridges, and an unfortunate two-AM phonecall || Wilbur Soot Angst

by scummy_loverboy

A story in which Wilbur Soot decides to jump, and Tommy decides to be in the right place in the right time.

    ___________

hi, hello, hi. if you’re reading this far thats pretty epic. this is my humble request for an angst roleplay partner tyvm. “minecraft tnt stan#3415” on discord please hmu

-wilbur

Words: 2435, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of DSMP Fics

Fandoms: Dream SMP, Minecraft (Video Game)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Other

Characters: Wilbur Soot, TommyInnit, Phil Watson, Technoblade - Character

Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, SBI - Relationship

Additional Tags: sbi, Angst, Wilbur Soot is Suicidal, TommyInnit is extremely fucking lucky, Mentions of Suicide, triggering content, sbi hurt/comfort, Wilbur Soot lives DW, This is definitely not me projecting lmfao, Wilbur Soot Angst, Poppytwt DNI you gross fucks, god this website sucks absolute ass, someone please read the description, eating disorder if you squint, Suicidal Wilbur Soot, tommyinnit being a supportive and epic brother

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/39977679

#IFTTT #ao3feed #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #crimeboys #crime boys #crimebois #crime bois #mcyt #This is

[rowdyhughesy]

Can you hear my mind ✰ Jack Hughes

It’s hard to explain masterlist

Content warning: this fic contains content of the struggles that come with ADHD, mentions of anger and sadness. This is made to spread awareness about disorders not to romanticise it. If this is something that may be triggering do not read.

“Is ADHD even a real thing?”

“Are you sure you're not just restless or bored?”

“Can you just stay still?”

“Can you please shut up?”

It's questions and words I've heard my whole life, even before they first gave me on paper that I have this neurodevelopment disorder.

Four letters that tell me why I feel different from everybody else. Why nothing ever seems to fit, like all the puzzle pieces in my brain aren't made to form this whole complete picture.

Like when your headphones get messed up in this ball of tangled cords and frustration when you can't separate them.

A simple description of how I can't separate my brain, what I'm feeling and thinking at any moment. How my body never stays still. There's always a knee bouncing, fingers wringing together or eyes blinking repeatedly. A constant burst of excess energy that I can't contain.

Jack doesn't move his gaze or say anything as we're laying on the light beige couch in our living room, tv playing this new show we started watching and the actors voices filling the silent space. He's too focused on watching it to pay attention to how my eye is twitching, how I keep rubbing my eyes like I'm tired and half asleep or touching my hair.

He's used to it by now. The fiddling, noises from when I move around, mumbling to myself. At least I thought he hadn't noticed until one of his hands lays atop of mine.

Almost immediately I start playing with his fingers. It's a trick he figured out early on. That if he gives me something to touch I can focus my energy on that, one thing to focus on and feel instead of everything all at once.

I glance over at him from the corner of my eye but he's still focused on the tv. A small smile tugging on the corner of his lips that tells me he knows I'm watching him. A small squeeze to my hand that's in his. A wordless confirmation that he knows what I needed. It's like he's developed this sixth sense when it comes to me.

It should be nothing, it is nothing. But inside it feels like this big dark thing that's eating me alive. Maybe it's the stress, lack of sleep or just my brain feeling like it's about to short circuit.

It's my own nails digging into my palms as I pace back and forth in our bedroom, ragged breathing and squinting my eyes in a desperate attempt at calming down. Trying to push it away, deeper and deeper I always do, everything to not let it take over.

Barely even knowing what it is that's got me here. It could be the laundry I've been procrastinating that feels like it's laughing at me. The clean dishes yet to be unloaded because I got distracted from doing and then just never did.

It could be the irritation at myself for not being capable of functioning like everyone I know. Seeing how they do these daily tasks like it's no big deal. Like it's easy. Just like breathing or sleeping. Easy.

It's harder now that Jack is away on a roadie for two weeks. Nobody there to take the pressure of by picking up the things I forget. Like when I leave the fridge door open or forgot to put the orange juice back. I can't even remember when he's supposed to be back. I can't remember how long he's been gone for.

I press the palm of my hands against my eyes, fingertips scratching at my hair trying to push the anger away. Deeper, harder until I think I might pass out from trying to hold it in.

And then it feels like the bomb inside finally explodes. A frustrated scream tumbles out of my lungs and I grab the nearest thing -which happens to be a throw pillow- chucking it at the wall. It hits with a loud thud before it falls on the floor. Grabbing another pillow I continue to throw them at the wall, everything to get the feelings out without breaking anything or causing harm.

I haven't even heard the sound of keys jiggling in the front door, hockey bag and suitcase placed on the floor. Jack kicking his shoes off in the hallway and hanging his jacket on one of the hooks. I don't hear anything but the sound of my own blood coursing through my body and heartbeat in my ears. Not until I finally sit down on the ground, head bent down between my knees and arms covering my skull.

'Baby.' Jacks voice isn't scared, more worried than anything as he creaks the bedroom door open. Sticking his head in from behind it, watching me sitting hunched over on the floor. He takes in the pillows on the floor and the sound of my shaky breathing.

Shuffling over the floor he slowly sits down next to me. He doesn't reach out to touch me. Knows it's the last thing I want right now. 'Are you angry?' I stay silent, throat raw and dry from the scream I previously let out. Strained. 'Whatever it is that became too much, I'm here now.' Softly he rubs circles on the bare skin of my arm that isn't covered by my T-shirt. 'I'll take care of it. You don't have to think about it.'

I only lift my head from its hiding place under my arms, scoot closer until my side is pressed against his and rest my head on his shoulder. Jack wraps one of his arms around my shoulders. Thumb rubbing circles on my arm as he presses a kiss on my forehead.

'I missed you.' My voice is scratchy and I have to clear my throat in the middle of the sentence to make myself sound clearer. He leans his cheek against the top of my head. I can feel the warmth of his skin on mine. 'I missed you too baby.'

Neither of us say anything. I wonder if he can hear the hurricane inside my bones. The sound of thunder, rain and harsh wind.

Jack is the first one to speak up. ‘I know I’ll never fully understand what it’s like. The things you feel and think and experience everyday.’ He inhales deeply before he continues. Eyes staring at the pillows still on the floor. ‘But I’ll always be here to make it easier, take some of the weight off.’

Most people don’t have the luxury of having someone that understands, somebody to help when the cords get bundled up. Untangle every knot and smooth out the bumps. That let me feel the emotions when I need to scream, remind me of things I’ve forgotten and just be there.

‘I love you Jack, thank you for always understanding.’

‘For you Y/N I’ll never stop trying to understand.’

#itshardtoexplainau #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x y/n #nhl imagine

[achoonihaachu]

God Must Hate Me; Ch. 2

A/N: Hello beautiful people! Thank you so much for the love you showed the first part of the series! II’ve made a few changes to the plot and it’s looking like this is definitely going to be longer than 3 chapters... sooo... get ready for the massive angst dump about to happen in future chapters! I hope you enjoy chapter two and I would love to get requests or feedback for the future work I plan on doing for the OM! fandom <33 Again, thank you so much to @its-dari for letting me take inspiration from her post of the "replaced mc au"!

pairings: Simeon x mc, Solomon x mc, Diavolo x mc, Demon Brothers x mc (platonic... for now), Luke x mc (PLATONIC!), MC x Fem!OC

warnings: cursing, possibly triggering! insinuated eating disorder (just a tad bit, okayy? :( im sorryy!), verbal abuse, gaslighting (if you squint,, maybe), possible future spoilers for chapter 16, not proofread well </33

reminder: you are loved, you are deserving of love, don’t let anybody tell you otherwise! i’m so proud of you, even if you think you’ve done nothing to warrant that, i’m proud of you okay >:(( ur amazing and beautiful and *chefs kisses* ily <333

“Would you like to move to Purgatory Hall indefinitely?” 

“I apologize for my next choice of words but Diavolo, what the fuck?!”

“Did I say something wrong?”

You didn’t know how to reply. You were sure you knew your friends pretty well by now. You knew how Barbatos brewed his super special tea. You knew of how Luke slept with a pillow he brought from the Celestial Realm because he got homesick. You knew how Simeon would switch out pots when Solomon cooked dinner because he didn’t want to risk everyone getting food poisoning after. You could go on and on about everyone else but to put it simply, you knew every little secret all your friends had.

Yet, it still astonishes you how these beings manage to say something so potentially life changing with the same level of nonchalance as if they had just mentioned the weather to you.

Everyone stared at you with expectant, hopeful eyes but you simply sighed, “I’ll think it over tonight.” You state. You could almost feel Luke vibrating with excitement. He knew that this was his big opportunity to finally convince you to live with them in Purgatory Hall now.

Diavolo smiled at you with understanding, Barbatos standing poised behind him with an unreadable expression, “Alright well, you can text me your decision first thing in the morning,”

Luke refused to let you leave Purgatory Hall after that. You were basically guilt tripped into spending the night with the other exchange students sans Yuki. You had to face the girl’s wrath through a call, though it felt more like jealousy mixed than anger. She whined for a good 10 minutes about having made plans to stay up all night with you to binge watch a cutesy anime she found but she settled with doing that after your Ristorante Six dinner. She said goodbye to you and to the others in Purgatory Hall and then she hung up. Diavolo and Barbatos left shortly after, mentioning that they had business to deal with and after steeling through your own set of puppy dog eyes, they bid you farewell and disappeared into the night.

You didn’t see the glares on their faces when they turned. You didn’t see how they didn’t walk back to the Demon Lord’s Castle. They head over to RAD, late at night, to settle a few of the many files and paperwork that dealt with everything happening to you.

You remained blissfully unaware of the growing tension plaguing the House of Lamentation.

With Luke happily snoring away with his head leaning against your chest, you turn to look at the other side of the couch to see Solomon asleep with his arm propped up on the arm rest. Turning to look back down to Luke, you saw Simeon still awake with his attention turned to you, the television droning on in the background, making for perfect ambience, “(MC), I hope I'm not overstepping any boundaries when I say this but…  I believe it’s for the best if you move into Purgatory Hall with us.” He says, voice soft as if he were afraid that he'd scare you away if he raised his voice any louder. 

You sat up slightly, careful to not wake the sleeping angel against you, “Simeon, I-” You started, only to be cut off by Simeon’s raised hand, “Let me explain why.” He says, expression hopeful as he practically asks you for permission with his eyes.

You bite your lip, silent for a few beats before you nod. Simeon nods back, “Solomon and I have been worried for you for months now. You seemed so stressed when you came to school from the House of Lamentation. You always had something occupying your thoughts, and you’ve started to practically deteriorate in front of our eyes. We weren’t joking when we said we love you, (MC). We can’t stand seeing you like this.” He paused for a moment.

“The brothers, Lucifer especially, have always been like this. They’re… They’re good at being selfish and they toss out the old for the new. I’m not saying that you’re old news, honestly we, including Lord Diavolo and Barbatos, would pick you over Yuki any day, but the demon brothers… Well, they’re not known as the Seven Avatars of Sin for nothing. What I'm trying to say is that we’ll treat you right here in Purgatory Hall. You’d be loved, treasured the way you should be. You can stop pretending to be content living with beings that bring you so much pain. I’d give anything to see you be the same happy (MC) you used to be.”

You felt your eyes prickle with salty tears, “Simeon… I’m sorry for worrying you. I- I just thought that… that… I’m sorry.” you whisper and in that moment, Simeon knew that you were broken. He’s lived many a centuries, he’s witnessed great floods, mass genocide by other humans. He’s witnessed the births and deaths of so many humans from his place in the Celestial Realm. He… He saw great sorrow when the brothers first fell after the Great Celestial War. He felt that sorrow and pain himself when he simply watched on the sidelines. 

He knows a broken being when he sees one, and he saw one in that moment.

He gently moves Luke, whose arms are wrapped tightly around his white satin pillow, to lie down on the sofa as he kneels in front of you. You hiccup quietly, eyes still brimming with tears. You stop yourself from blinking. You refuse to let these tears fall. You refuse to let yourself cry over demons who couldn’t appreciate all the sacrifices you’ve made for them.

He stares up at you, concerned, as he opens his arms to you. You hesitate before lowering yourself to the floor and reluctantly bury your face into the fabric of his black shirt. He smells vaguely of citrus and soap, you know the generic kind he bought because his skin would break out in rashes when he tried the different scents offered in the Devildom stores. You sniffle lightly, eyes still blurry as a few traitorous tears slipped from their place.

You cursed those salty tears for sullying Simeon’s pristine clothes.

Simeon slowly rubbed circles on your back, whispering words of comfort as he held you in his arms. Your body wracked with every silent sob, your breathing quickly becoming shallow as your nose grew runny. Now, you definitely forbade yourself from getting your snot on Simeon’s clothes. You cry quietly against his chest, your sobs slowly weakening and slowing after what seemed like hours but was more like a few minutes.

“I’m truly sorry for worrying you, Simeon. I- I just… I love them, y’know? And I love Yuki. God, I can’t even hate Yuki because she’s so lovely but what have I ever done to be punished like this? To be unloved like this after all I’ve given for those fools?!” You cry out weakly. 

You find solace in the angel in front of you.

And for once after a long while, you’re glad to have been chosen for this program because… You got to meet Simeon.

You woke up, head pounding, in a room definitely not your own. The walls were painted a beautiful shade of pastel blue. Furniture, like the tall wardrobe and the simple study table situated by french windows, were all painted in pure white.  Even the detailing of the windows was an ivory white. A tiny yellow plant that was reminiscent of an angel’s halo was placed on the  table, glowing slightly with a radiant yellow. It somehow gave you comfort. You weren’t sure what time it was, your eyes were bleary but you were sure that it was morning. You yawned, stretching slightly when the door opened to reveal Simeon and Luke standing in the doorway with a tray of delicious looking food. You let out a tiny happy sound, feeling extremely grateful for the hospitality. 

Since Yuki came, the brothers often forgot to leave food for you, feigning ignorance to your needs for hers. They’d say that the food was only enough for 8 people, that there wasn’t enough in the fridge to make more. They brushed off your early complaints and Asmodus even told you once that it was for the best, as you looked like you could lose a few pounds. 

You passed out in the school’s hallway that week from hunger.

Since you didn’t eat at home, you went to school hungry or you ate at a small coffee shop on your way to school. Yuki would apologize profusely for being the reason for their change of behavior. You wave her off with a tired smile.

They’ve always exercised their power and authority on you.

Luke bounded over to the side of the bed, his happiness seemed to know no limits as he talked with the speed of a bullet train, “Good morning, (MC)! I-I’m sorry about falling asleep during our movie marathon! I made you these celestial sugar cookies! Michael sent me a care package full of vanilla beans that the younger fledgling angels tended to in the Celestial Castle!” He climbed onto the bed, elbows clumsily pushing him up to sit by you as he unscrewed the clear glass jar. The scent of freshly baked cookies made your toes curl.

It smelt heavenly, the pun is intended.

Before you could grab a handful of the young angel’s divine treats, you heard Simeon clear his throat, “Luke, I told you to give that to them after they eat breakfast.” He spoke sternly, but he didn’t scare you. You were so used to being scared into obeying a command, to listen to every word spoken by what was deemed to be authority as if their words were written in stone. 

It’s how your life has been the past few months in the House of Lamentation.

No, with Simeon, you felt your heart fill with a comforting warmth. The way he chided and guided Luke like a shepherd would with a playful lamb, funnily enough. You believed that his austerity shouldn’t even be classified as such, for he spoke with kindness and love. Simeon’s eyes met yours and his gaze softened immediately, “I hope the bed was to your liking. The other guest rooms were stuffy and a tad dusty so I brought you to my room. I apologize for doing so without your consent.” He looked away sheepishly, his grip on the silver tray tightening ever so slightly. You shot up, almost knocking into Luke as you shook your head,” No! It’s alright! I-I felt comfortable… At home, even.” You say shyly. You missed the light pink dusting Simeon’s cheeks.

“T-That’s a relief. Luke and I brought enough food for all three of us. He insisted on letting you take it easy today.” Simeon mentions as he places the tray on the bedside table.

You pull on the silk sheets, feeling slightly self conscious as the fact that Simeon carried you to bed finally sunk in. Before you could wallow in your embarrassment, Luke waved a cookie in front of you with a toothy grin stretched across his face.

You choose to move on, grabbing the cookie with a giggle as you all dug into the treats and the breakfast.

“Hey, Simeon…” You hear the ravenette hum in response, mouth full with the bite he took of the sandwiches they made, “Where’s Solomon?”

The almighty sorcerer was seated across from Diavolo, quill in hand as he eyed the documents that lay in a file strewn on a small pile on the table in front of him. “I had Barbatos look into the future and document everything he had seen. These papers hold all of that information. I entrust that you will not interfere nor will you try to reveal anything to the rest involved in this situation.” Diavolo states, arms folded on the table as he stares at the tall stack of papers beside him.

There were probably a few hundred files, all recounting different futures and different destinies that you could choose. “I see. Well, why is there a stack specifically given to me?” 

“Solomon… I don’t think you’d like to hear it come from me-” Diavolo was cut off by Solomon, hand raised to silence the demon prince.

“Lord Diavolo, with all due respect, why did you summon me and why is there a stack of files here in front of me?” His voice was laced with venom, he feels it’s less of his anger and more of his fear of what was about to be revealed to him.

“Those are the futures where (MC) is killed.”

Solomon has lived for a long time now and there were days when he cursed his immortality. It made him afraid to love. He’s loved before but in time, he had to bury that love 6 feet underground. He couldn’t tell you how many generations he’s had to bury into freshly dug soil. He couldn’t stand the way the people he’s loved be remembered only by the stupid piece of stone that laid erect on top of where they slept for eternity. No matter how many times he’s buried a lover or a friend, the heartache that comes with losing them to time or to an illness never numbs. So, after a few centuries, he’s learnt to stop loving. He’s learnt to make deals with similarly immortal beings, with demons from the underworld. He’d keep his heart under lock and key because he couldn’t deal with another heartbreak. Then you came.

You, this weak little human without immortality, managed to find the key he’s tossed away a long time ago, and you’ve managed to free his heart. He’s grown quite fond of you, the way you can just exist and make a room be so much more colorful, so much more lively. He’s a sorcerer with centuries of knowledge and experience and he knows for a fact that you’re the only being in existence to have such a strong pull, having the strongest demons in Hell, a magnificent sorcerer, and angels in Heaven wrapped around your finger. 

Hearing the words that had just come from Diavolo’s lips made the color drain from Solomon’s face. He felt breathless, like the air in his lungs had been knocked out by an invisible force. He slowly shook his head, placing the quill back into the inkwell. “No, there must be some mistake…” He mutters to himself. He was normally a confident man that took everything in stride but in that moment, his shaky hands were untrustworthy. He was forced to steel himself, moving to grab the file at the very top, “Lord Diavolo, if I can presume correctly, your pile is of the futures where (MC) will be safe with us, right?” 

Diavolo’s expression was grim, he hesitated to respond. Solomon’s breath hitched in his throat, hands unable to pry the file open. His eyes find Diavolo’s, wide with panic and fright, “Please tell me that these aren’t likely to happen…” He whispers.

In the House of Lamentation, Yuki’s door remained sealed shut, as if it were uninhabited. The brothers all took turns walking by to knock, trying to convince her to open the door. Lucifer made the most visits, knocking every hour to somehow convince her to come out without apologizing. Yuki managed to paste a piece of paper on her door whilst there weren’t any demons roaming the halls.

The paper read, “When you disrespect (MC), you’re disrespecting ME!” With an angry cartoon version of Yuki drawn in red ink on the bottom of the paper.

The brothers were all gathered in the common room, with the exception of Leviathan who had been missing since last night and Lucifer who had just left to bother Yuki again. Leviathan texted them about completing a new game so he wasn’t aware of Yuki’s angry outburst, he wasn’t there after all. Mammon sat by the fireplace, knee bouncing in the growing panic of his favorite human purposefully ignoring him, “I don’t even want an apology! I just need’a take ‘er out to town! I’ve gotta catch this big blackjack tournament with my lucky charm.” He huffed. Satan snorted from a few spots away from his older brother, hands gripping tightly on the book he’s binge reading. “Obviously like the scum you are, you only think of how her anger’s going to affect you negatively. She’s mad at us for one thing or another. Can’t you use that tiny brain of yours to think of how we can get her to forgive us?” He seethes, a wry smile on his lips as he tries his best to keep his wrath under control.

Before the brothers could have the chance to break out into another squabble, Lucifer stomps in, face contorted in frustration as he crumples up a piece of paper to throw into the warm fire that grew by the sofas. “Wait, Lucifer what’s that?” Satan queries, tossing his book on the couch as he approaches his brother. Lucifer’s eyes blazed with unfiltered anger, “Humans are childish.” He spits through gritted teeth, handing Satan the paper in his hands.

It was the paper Yuki stuck on the door.

Mammon scampers over to take a look, only to scoff, “(MC) would never be this childish.” He mutters to himself, unaware of what his words really meant. The other boys walk over to peek at what Yuki had written. Asmodeus shrugged, “Still, it’s kinda cute? I mean, Yuki’s always adorable so it’s alright this once, I suppose.”

What the brothers didn’t realize was how Yuki planned on keeping this up.

Lucifer sinks onto the main couch in the common room, hands furiously rubbing his face as he feels his head throb. He had no time for this. He’s got to report to Diavolo in a few minutes, he’s got a monstrous pile of paperwork to complete, a childish human was the least of his worries.

Just as he moved to get ready to head to the Demon Lord’s Castle, he got a text from Diavolo’s number.

“Good day, Lucifer. This is Barbatos contacting you through the Young Master’s phone to inform you that there are some urgent matters the Prince has to tend to, and unfortunately he will have to cancel your monthly report meeting this afternoon. I will be at the House of Lamentation in 10 minutes to pick up all the paperwork you have completed. That is all.”

Lucifer was completely floored. He was speechless. He… Was he unneeded that day? His eyes scan the text about a dozen times. Diavolo was attending to matters without him. Barbatos was going to pick up the work he finished? He grew nervous in his seat. Did he do something to deem him unworthy of being trusted with the matters being dealt with? Without realizing, he thought back to how you would help him calm down from an awfully stressful day. The way you soothed him without hurting his pride… Yuki. Yuki can do that for him, right?

He shot up from his seat, eyes crazed as he rushed out of the room, leaving his brothers in shock. In his mind, he was acting logically enough; He was upset, ergo he needed comfort from his favorite human.They’d never disobey him, seeing him in distraught would be enough for her to forgive him for now, right? (MC) would always forgive them even after the worst of fights because they knew that they were needed.

It was a solid enough plan in his distraught mind.

His fist was heavy on Yuki’s door, his hair was disheveled from rushing up the stairs so quickly. “What do you want?” Her voice was muffled by the heavy ancient door but even then, he could hear the anger laced in her voice. He winced ever so slightly before he cleared his throat, “Yuki? I apologize but I hope you wouldn’t mind if I came into your room. I’m quite under the weather, and I would appreciate your company and a few rods of comfort. Please.” He said, voice wavering when he said the word please, sour bile threatening to come from his throat as his pride got in the way. He was met with silence before he heard the lock click. The door creaked open ever so slightly, Yuki had peeked ever so slightly at him, “That’s rich coming from you, Morningstar.” She scoffed, glare frigid as if she was staring into his black soul. His patience was running thin quickly, “Pardon me?” He asked. His hearing must be going, that’s it. All the screaming he endured for eons from his idiotic brothers must have caught up to him and he all of the sudden developed tinnitus or possibly an ear infection. Yuki wouldn’t have said that to him, not his favorite human exchange student.

Yuki pulled the door open some more, only to block Lucifer from stepping in. She folded her arms and glared up at him, “You heard what I said. That’s rich, coming from you. When (MC) begged you to stop your torment, you feigned ignorance and you hurt them so deeply. You didn’t comfort them on the days they felt under the weather. I was the one to dry their tears. ” She said unflinchingly. 

Somewhere in the house, Satan stilled. He felt great waves of wrath roll over his entire being, almost drowning him in the powerful emotion he reigned over. He gripped the hardbound book in his hands, jaw clenched so hard that he would’ve probably broken his jaw if he were a human. He thought back to what (MC) taught him. Breathing exercises. Count to 10, 1, 2, 3, 4... don’t let your wrath get the better of you, Satan. You’re so much more than the wrath you were born from. You don’t scare me, tan-tan! 

Oh, MC...

Yuki rolled her eyes at the fallen seraphim, scoffing as she turned her back on him, “What makes you think I’d choose to comfort an asshole like you?” With that, she shut her door in his face with a slam. 

Yuki sat back down on her bed to scroll on her DDD, feeling smug as she heard a vase break in the hallway.

You were washing dishes in Purgatory Hall after a good quarrel with Simeon about him letting you clean at all during your stay with them. Your eyes were glazed over as you thought back to Yuki. She was such a good friend. She defended you when she could, always choosing you and including you every time something happened in the House of Lamentation. You didn’t notice the figure standing in the doorway, “Good morning, (MC). School’s about to start soon, and I got a few messages that the brothers and Yuki had no plans on going. Were you planning on ditching as well?” You jump cartoonishly, almost dropping the pretty dishware before you glare at the figure clad in a blood red suit, “Diavolo!” 

Solomon steps into the kitchen from behind the tall demon prince,”Leave those dishes there at once, (MC).” He says in faux anger, his lips twitching slightly as he stops himself from smiling. You stick your tongue out at him as you turn back to the last few dishes in the sink, “I’m almost done, alright? Wait in the common room, I’ll be with you all in a few minutes.” You say sweetly, unaware of the two men's staring.

You emerge from the kitchen, hands still damp with a few stray bubbles on your forearm. You meekly wipe your hands on your uniform jacket as you are met with a crowded common room. Lord Diavolo, Barbatos, and Solomon sat on one of the sofas facing the elongated one you and the other exchange students were lounging on last night. Barbatos had a sizable stack of papers beside him, pristine and unwrinkled and you awed at the butler. How on Earth can someone carry around paperwork without wrinkling it? Well, that’s the overly competent demon butler for you. You had half a mind to ask where it came from so early in the morning but you held back your question.The aforementioned sofa was occupied by Luke and Simeon, who were stifling their laughter at your expression. “Is this an intervention?” You joked as you took a seat beside Luke.

Diavolo snickered, “Sort of.” He teased back as he looked over at Solomon, who had a tight-lipped smile on his face. 

“Well, (MC). Have you decided?” Barbatos asked. You bit your lip as you stared at your feet. You sighed, closing your eyes as you raised your head back up.

“Yes. I’ve decided to accept your offer to move me into Purgatory Hall.” 

You had a blast at RAD, for the first time in a long time. You had messaged Yuki and told her that you’d just meet her at Ristorante Six, you joked about being mad at her for leaving you to go to a school crawling with demons who would kill to eat your soul. Though true, you knew you were safe in the protection of the Demon Prince, his butler, and the most powerful exchange students in all of the Devildom. 

The seconds you spent with your new house mates, basically, turned into hours and before you knew it, it was time for your dinner with Yuki.

In the House of Lamentation, Asmodeus picked at his fingernails nervously as he stood outside Yuki’s door. He had been trying to build up enough courage to just knock and get this over with but he heard the commotion after Lucifer bolted from the common room. If the ever powerful, ever prideful Lucifer Morningstar lost his cool to a measly human, what could he do as the fifth-born?

He strained to listen in on Yuki’s movements, he could make out that she was humming a tune from a human song you adored. He couldn’t recall the title but he knew it was a love song.

“Hmm… hmm.. Hmm..”

“It was enchanting to meet you..”

He was about to knock when he felt a force push him against the door. “Ah!” He yelped as he rubbed at his forehead. Turning to put a curse on whoever just gave him a bruise, he faltered when he saw Belphegor.

“Who is it now?” Yuki’s voice was sharp and unforgiving, so far from the sweet Yuki they were used to. Before Asmodeus could reply, Belphegor put a curse on the door; no one can get in or get out unless he says so. After months of tutoring from you and Solomon, Yuki was able to start feeling strong magic, and she felt this wave of a powerful curse. “W-what?” She ran over to the door, turning the handle but was unable to open it.

“What the fuck are you doing, Asmo?!” She snarled, violently turning the handle. Asmodeus squeaked, “I-It wasn’t me, darling!” He called out, moving to pry the door open. The poor girl would starve if Belphegor chose to keep the door locked! He glared daggers at his little brother, “Open the damn door, Belphie.” He spat out, hands unresting as he kept trying to get the knob to budge. Belphegor lazily sighed, “No. I heard her yell at Beel earlier.” He scoffed.

Yuki was starting to worry. Her date with you was in 30 minutes.

You were walking to Ristorante Six with Solomon. You managed to convince him to hold your hand and you were now swinging your arms back and forth with every step you took. Solomon said that he would only do it because he was a good housemate, saying that he wouldn’t have agreed if you didn’t move into Purgatory Hall (he had half a mind to say that he could’ve used this to blackmail a certain Avatar of Pride into making a pact with him, though he never mentioned this part due to everything that has been happening in the past few months). 

You didn’t mention how his face was as red as a stop sign to protect his dignity. 

You were feeling so much better after so long and you were going to savor every moment. You were out of the House of Lamentation. You were in a home where people cared about you. You were loved again, just like you prayed for.

And did it feel good.

Just as you and Solomon turned the corner, you got a message from Yuki, “Hey babes, the bros asked me to finish some paperwork. I gotta call for a raincheck on our date, okay? Don’t come back to HoL rn, Belphie’s being a little brat. ILY, take care of yourself at Purgatory Hall!” You pout as you read the text out loud for Solomon, who grimaced as you finished reading.

Did Yuki know something?

He fished his phone out from under his big cloak, “Hold on, (MC). I have to make a quick phone call. I’ll get Simeon and Luke to come here and the four of us can have dinner at Ristorante Six instead. It’ll be my treat, think of it as a celebration for your move to Purgatory Hall.” He says, ruffling your hair before nudging you into the direction of the restaurant.

As you walked away, he chanted a protection spell on you; he managed to rub a bit of his magic man dust on your pretty little head.

He quickly typed a message to Luke, telling him to bring Simeon to meet you at Ristorante Six. After getting a response from the tiny angel, he dialed Diavolo’s number, eyebrows furrowed,

“Good evening, Lord Diavolo. Is this the future you and Barbatos prepared to make happen?”

---------

tags for those who asked! : @edible-sushi , @knmsapplepi , @kxyren , @its-dari , @izukulus , @farysblog , @atinyidea-bon , @affecteddream , @yunbedo , @raven-darkessence , @crystal-freak24 , @gallantys , @xfatefulmistyx , @crystalmystery​ , @another-one-again , @moni-sama

#obey me x mc #obey me replaced mc au #obey me x reader #obey me headcanons #obey me #obey me angst

[neonovember]

Black Umbrellas

natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary; you grief the life you thought you’d live, you grief the person you thought you’d become with her.

warnings; angst to the 10th power, hugeTW for death, loss, grief, sadness that’s masquerading as anger, mentions of major depressive and anxiety episodes, major character death, mentions of disorders eating, isolation, self harm, fluff, (semi sad ending?, it’s kind of neither).

author notes; was I on an undeclared hiatus for a while? yes most definitely! If you squint hard enough you can see the droplets of tears from pulling this out of my ass, please beware of warning and triggers, most of this writing is just poor descriptions of what grief even begins to feel like, so beware lol.

Black umbrellas gripped tightly by the mourners as they huddled in the soaked downpour, glistening droplets sliding off the edges and grooves of the umbrella.

They gather, moving in unison, in togetherness, bounded and shared in grief and loss, moving like a wave, over, until their blanketed sadness ripples into the shore, until they are swarmed within the masses of people in ordinary, in mundanity, because death is something that happens, that just happens, and the world won’t stop spinning, and the people won’t stop living, or working or resting, because death is will always be the ending of life, there is no parabolic cycle in which death ceases, there is no reality in which it doesn’t morph to become normal.

Death is nothing but enabling the living. Bonded grief, safe only in the prism of memories that become too clouded with age and rubbed with heat, it’s pristine, clarity leaving just as fast as it came. The once unrelenting image of her burned into cranials and irises, never leaving even in rest, that gut wrenching nauseating memory that becomes an aged heated picture, it’s bile rising burn felt almost daily, now instead, leaving an everlasting aftertaste.

The abhorrence keeps you grimacing after every swallow, after every breath, a reminder. A sacred oath you kept in grief and loss, in a blurred stage between depression and shock, that you’d never forget, never break their once so familiar face, their so close touch, the heat of their voice, their smile, their laugh.

Death leaves you with simple promises you’ve made in desperation, with illogical bargains, will hopeless wishes; to remember them, to seize forgetting, to be branded with the spoken syllables of their name.

You never stop whispering her name, not in rest, not in battle, not even in pleasure. It stays branded within you, it plants its feet within your mind to grow, to wilt, to seize, and then to repeat, until it is an endless cycle. An endless cycle of remembering and then forgetting, and the cruel chastising after. Mind incredulous at its audacity to leave the grief, even momentarily, heart clenching with guilt, wilting from red to grey, to grey to red.

You had grown accustomed to this battle, to this routine, and any assuring hand or concerned advice was shushed away into the overflowing cabinet. Steve had tried, really, tried, unrelenting desire to help, to free you from this repetition you’ve consumed yourself with.

The same ignorant belief that spurred him into rescuing James Buchanan Barnes, the belief that sent him into hiding, his dark Captain uniform becoming second skin, it’s star turning black with use and age of his rogue.

He’d found you at the funeral then, his hands wrapped around your face, scanning in concern over your faltering expression. He begged you to let him in, let him share the burden of grief, let him see you, goddamn, just see you. You hadn’t, and you still don’t now.

Instead you laughed, the loudly inappropriate sound booming across the greened lawns. Vibrating off those goddamn black umbrellas before bounces across the cemetery grass. You had turned heads, mouths opened in shock at your confidence, your disrespect.

How dare you stand there amongst them whilst they mourn her death, and laugh?

Her casket empty because they didn’t have a body to bury, even despite your request to bring her back, use the god awful gifts given to you by crazed scientists for good, they had refused, and so she was left there to rot whilst you fiend a funeral that seemed so wrong, so inappropriate, so dumb. She would’ve thought it was, anyway.

You couldn’t help it, it was beyond your control. You laughed louder at their faces, leaning back, clapping a hand across your mouth, trying, failing at hiding your emotional outburst. You willed your body to stop, you knew what would come next, and Steve did too, his body stepping closer to catch you. You felt yourself falling before you actually did, the gut nauseous change toppling you over as your snickers turned into sobs, your eyes burning with mascara and hot with tears.

You didn’t want to cry, not here, not in front of everyone, you’d much rather it in your bathtub fully clothed with a bottle of some Russian hard liquor she used to love. Drink away the embarrassingly pedestrian funeral. Curl a hand around the base of the bottle until it shattered at the thought of a weightless casket.

Steve held you close, protective arms wrapped around you, cocooning you in his warmth and grip, shielding you from the prying ears and eyes of the faceless crowds of people that didn’t know her.

You begged Steve why?

Why had she done it? Why had she sacrificed the one thing you’ve ever needed in life? Why had she gone and bleached her ledger if it meant leaving you? You couldn’t understand, you wouldn’t, your mind heavy and pounding with a headache.

Steve walked off with you in his arms, motioning for Banner and Stark to follow, carrying you into a tinted Chevrolet, or Mercedes’ or whatever unmarked suv was surely organised by Stark, the billionaire's strategic planning for your eventual mental breakdown. Better to have you shielded from the public, kept shut into the tinted windows of vehicles instead of in upstate New York’s most prestigious fucking graveyard. Didn’t need the rest of the world to watch on as an Avenger loses her grip on reality.

You may be infected with grief and loss but you weren’t fucking stupid, you had a duty, even now in grief, a duty branded to you the moment you took up the mantle of an Avenger. People were scared, the world was scared, and they’re only hope was you, and for them to see you, see you like this, show them you felt pain and hurt and loss, would be to show them that you were just like them. Human. Capable of the same fucking depression and grief they felt everyday.

It was disturbing, it was fucking inappropriate that’s what it was, how dare you? How dare you shake them with the reality that you were still helpless to the destruction of death? How fucking dare you become them. How dare you warp their sense of superiority and benevolence they’ve granted you? It didn’t make sense, it couldn’t.

The public couldn’t comprehend that you could grief, that you felt the natural process of human emotion. Or maybe they did know, and had grown accustomed to the stoic, emotionless barrier the Avengers had glazed over themselves, maybe they had learnt to see them not for who they wore, or who they were, but for what they served. Their purpose. Their mission. Thier weaponised killing and justified murder.

It was hushed behind the backs of their minds but it was true, the avengers weren’t seen as people, they were dehumanised, it was the only way they could rationalise it, they needed them. How could you save them if you needed saving? How could you save them when you couldn’t even save yourself?

The motions of the unmarked car grow thick, your limbs lazy and lagging, sore from your depression.

You cried more inside the haven of the fabric walls of the car, leaning into Steve’s lap, Banner's finger crazing over your leg in assurance. Whispering “I know, I know, I know”.

You hated her, hated what she’s done, you’d screamed it then, pulling a fist into your mouth, your mind begging for your body to stop.

Steve gently pulled your hand away from your jaw, resting your head in the croon of his neck instead, humming softly at your blubbering, the silent wake after you cried the last of the moisture from your eyes, the dehydration from your ministrations settling in.

The ride was short, or at least it felt like that, you didn’t really know, consumed with burying your face into Steve’s white button up. He leaned into you, brushing your coils from its dampened rest on your forehead. You liked the smell of him, Steve, his musky scent of patchouli and something earthly remained exactly as it was the first time you met, it was the only thing that hadn’t changed, beneath cologne and dirt there it layed, all these years.

You would’ve made a joke of it in different circumstances, today wasn't that day, perhaps it would be long until that time came. His scent was the only thing you’ve kept now, it’s the only thing you know now, his scent is like a stamped reminder of everything you’ve lost and the very few you still have.

“Hey, sweet girl, we gotta get up” He whispered it cautiously, calculating if maybe the uttered words would spring you into another breakdown.

Muffling a groan you raised from his lap, tugging at his hands pulling them towards you. He wrapped an arm around you as he eased the both of you out of the car, the hard cement felt like pillows under your black heels, marshmallowy and soft, like your movements weren’t really there, like you’ve sunk into the depths of the Earth.

Fluttering your eyes across your surroundings you realise you’re in the Towers carpark, the noticeable, embroidered A centred at the front. You don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve been here, avoiding the place all together, avoiding her smell, her room, her clothes, her being within these spaces. It was too much, one morning entering the tower had you leaving in muffled sobs, too much.

Steve squeezed your arm, sensing your thoughts;

“You have to try, you’ll never recover if you don’t at least try” He whispered, an optimistic expression on his face that had you scoffing.

“You know Steve, for someone who’s lost the love of their life, I thought at least you’d give me a fucking break” You raise your face at him, lips trembling.

He gulps back a swallow, cerulean blues glazed in pain and sadness as he reviled, and begged you not to continue you’re fevered rant.

“I don’t want to try, I don’t want to do anything, try for what? For what Steve? A life that’s half pretending I’m over it and half wishing it was me?!”

“She’s gone, forever, just like that, and I just, I just, my heart, Stevie, my heart hurts goddamnit. She did this, she made my heart hurt, and I hate her for it, I hate her, I hate her, I hate her!”

Steve watched you scream your obscenities, taking on the wrath of your anger and delirium because that’s just who he is. You feel yourself doing it and you hate it, why can’t you just get over it? Why does your heart have to burn all the time? Why can’t she give back that piece she has of you? The one she’s kept since you’ve loved her? You need it, you need it, you need it back really bad.

“Please,” Steve pleaded, begged, bargained for your resolve, trying to reach the depths of your mind in which you were cognitive, in which you had reason.

“You need to sleep, you have to sleep” He said it like a suggestion, he meant it as a command.

You were too tired to resist the strength of his arms, and the heat of them. You let yourself be tucked into a bed in a darkened room, you let your mind tug into the abyss of sleep. That night was the one night you had gotten any proper sleep, you had no idea why, until you woken and smelt her everywhere. Steve had put you in Natasha’s room. Your first instinct was to scream at him, slap him for doing this to you, grief the moment when you didn’t have to face the reality of her death.

Months later, you’d thank him, you’d take him out for dinner at her favourite restaurant, and look over the menu without tears burning your vision. Eat a full meal instead of small bites Steve or Clint would feed you.

You didn’t know what would’ve happened to you if you hadn’t slept in her room that night. You didn’t know if you’d ever really recover, and that’s not to say you're okay now, no, things weren’t ever going to be as they wore before. Death crafts you a new normal, it gifts you with perseverance, with awkward party tricks and horrible sentence starters called I lost the love of my life.

You had stopped being angry by the second month, you had nothing to be angry about anymore, just gaping holes in the places she’d once warmed.

You were a shell of a person for a long time, depressed and anxious, all nail biting and knuckles in palms. You weren’t the cool depressed, the “weed” medicating anxious, you were the weeping-into-the same-jumper depressed. You were the eat everything within the kitchen or go days without food until you hunched over in stomach spasms kind of anxious. You were a mean drunk, or, maybe you became one after, you’d always remembered how she loved when you were tipsy, she wouldn’t like it now.

Steve had stayed through all of it, every single part of yourself you became and evolved through. God you willed yourself to create distance, keep him at arms length so you never have to go through what you’d gone through, but Steve, he is an enigma, a man out of time, a man who finds dealing with you at your worst more normal than operating a fucking Iphone. You knew through all of this, through the nights he sat at your bedside waiting for your hiccuped breathing to get heavy, that it was for him too. Steve needed this as much as you did, if not more.

You’d often say you credit Steve to saving your life, but he saved so much more than that. He saved your soul, the memories and versions of you that felt so foreign sometimes, miles away. You were sure if you’d died then and there, people would remember you as the one that went crazy, the Avenger that couldn’t get a grip, Steve made sure you became more than that, the Avenger who went crazy but still laughed at his jokes.

Steve became your favourite person, he became your safe haven after a hard day, the person you felt at ease with, the only time you really ungripped your hands and let your shoulders fall.

Sometimes, when he felt really honest, he’d tell you about Peggy, you’d watch him whilst you both sat on the balcony in the moons of the night, watch as the gleams of love, sorrow and longing took over his face, he’d catch himself soon though, when you leaned in too close, when you looked at him a little too understanding.

This was for him too remember, and he hadn’t finished grieving even centuries later. And so you’d watch him grip his jaw and shut his mouth, paint his face with a pained smile, watch those cerulean blues fall.

There were questions that were never answered even now, even years later when her grave had grown over with green grass, and the insects and worms had eaten away at the wood of her casket.

You’d made a promise to never forget her, to always keep her branded into the cranium of your mind, and that never changed, she was always there, even if her face had melted with age and the edges of your memories had grown wilt with life.

You'd grow to accept it, you trusted yourself to that, maybe not now, maybe not until decades past, when you're on a rocking chair on the front porch of a lake house. But you would.

Natasha’s death wasn’t spectacular, she didn’t get a street or a school named after her, her poses weren’t sculptures in museums, or featured in Smithsonian’s. She simply existed. From the span of indescribable time on Earth. That was the most beautiful part, she was kept alive in the minds that knew her, not in the cinderblock pieces of public space to be observed by hundreds, or on the piece of graveled road that would become rusted with holes and overgrown by weeds.

She’d stay, in the minds of yours, in the head that had a thousand streets with her name, a hundred sculptures of her, a million movements Yelena would hate.

In your mind, grief never banked the shore, never fell or washed over, it morphed, in the sun, in the rain, in the wind, it glinted in light until you saw it for what it only ever was;

Love.

#natasha x grieving!reader #natasha x angst #natasha x black!reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x you #natasha x woc!reader #natasha x fem!reader #natasha x black reader #natasha romanoff x black!reader #natasha romanoff x woc!reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #platonic!steve rogers #platonic!steve rogers x black!reader #platonic!steve rogers x reader #grief #avengers x angst #tony stark x reader #clint barton x fem reader #domesticated!avengers #domesticated!natasha romanoff #fluff #angst #black!reader #woc!reader

[bobateastay]

stray kids masterlist currently includes all members!

ot8

ayo, your kitchen is fried (gender neutral!reader): platonic, fluff, comedy

bang chan

fine (gender neutral!reader): trigger warning for suicide and implied eating disorders, angst, fluff if you squint, swearing, arguments, childhood friends, best friend!chan

drabble (fem!reader): smut, pet names, overstimulation

the beer (gender neutral!reader): college au, fluff, sexual content but no smut, angst, alcohol, physical violence (does not involve reader), ot8 interaction, chan-centric, best friend!chan

love you a latte (fem!reader): coffeeshop au, barista!reader, fluff, suggestive

lee minho

drabble (fem!reader): smut, mutual masturbation

oral fixation (gender neutral!reader): college au, roommate!minho, smut, facefucking, deepthroating

mugs (fem!reader): smut, established relationship, domestic arguments

black jeans (fem!reader): smut, pillow humping

seo changbin

good morning (fem!reader): fluff, smut, morning sex, creampie

until the very end (gender neutral!reader): mafia au, mentions of death, smut, angst, facefucking, ownership themes

hwang hyunjin

dispatch was right (gender neutral!reader): idol!reader, fluff, fake relationship, best friend!hyunjin

nobody else (fem!reader): smut, fluff, jealousy, ownership themes, oral (reader receiving), creampie

who's your bias? (fem!reader): - idol!reader, fluff, secret relationship

han jisung

pretend (fem!reader): idol!reader, fluff, suggestive, publicity stunt relationship

cheesecake (gender neutral!reader): college au, angst, minor fluff, trigger warning for descriptions of eating disorders (reader's body or weight is not described)

knight in shining armour (fem!reader): hurt/comfort, fluff, discussions of past trauma

lee felix

felix in the bathroom (gender neutral!reader): high school au, mentions of suicide & weed, angst, fluff toward the end, alcohol (based on bmc's michael in the bathroom)

vlive (fem!reader): idol!reader, fluff, secret relationship

b (demo), (gender neutral!reader): minor smut, angst, fluff toward the end, friends with benefits

come here often? (male!reader): skz member!reader, fluff

lip balm (fem!reader): shy!reader, fluff

kim seungmin

pg-13 (fem!reader): actor!reader, loss of virginity, creampie, director seungmin

cough syrup (gender neutral!reader): high school au, angst, platonic, depression, abuse of medication, best friend!seungmin

yang jeongin

one more load (fem!reader): smut, creampie, breeding kink

#stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fic #bang chan x reader #bang chan angst #bang chan smut #bang chan fluff #lee minho x reader #lee minho smut #lee minho fluff #seo changbin x reader #seo changbin smut #seo changbin angst #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin fluff #han jisung x reader #han jisung fluff #lee felix x reader #lee felix fluff #lee felix angst #kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin smut #kim seungmin angst #yang jeongin x reader #yang jeongin smut #han jisung angst

[bookwrm99]

Sweet Dreams pt. 1

So, I've had to switch my medication recently for my anxiety, and it's been a bit rough. I normally have a bit of a problem with nightmares because of stress, but since starting Effexor it's been like... on steroids. One of my ways of coping with my mental health is writing, so I've started working on an Obey Me! series of short fics with each of the brothers comforting an MC who's been suffering from long-term night terrors as a medication side-effect. I debated about whether to post them or not, but ultimately I feel like if they can be comforting reads to someone else in a similar situation to mine, of course I'd want to share them! So, here's part one with Lucifer. Please know this is based on my own personal experiences with my anxiety and medications- mental health isn't one-size-fits-all, and everybody experiences it differently on all fronts. Not everybody will experience anxiety the way MC does in these fics, and that's okay! MC is not meant to be representative of everyone everywhere who has ever dealt with having an anxiety disorder- I personally think such a thing is impossible anyway. That being said, please practice good reader discretion if mental health is a hard topic for you- the last thing I want to do is harm someone else's mental health with my writing. I'll post specific trigger warnings just above the cut, so you'll know exactly what you're getting yourself into before you continue!

Now that the long disclaimer is out of the way... I hope that you enjoy this small fic series, reader! It was cathartic for me to write, and I hope they can bring comfort to others too.

Genre: Comfort with Lucifer x gn!reader (if you squint)

Word Count: 2.2k

TW: Mentions of anxiety and treatments, depictions of anxiety and nightmare aftermath, descriptions of nightmares

Lucifer was worried.

Not that he would admit to it. He was the Avatar of Pride, and as such he had an image to maintain. After all, just because someone fails to reply to text messages and calls- or does something out of their norm, like skipping breakfast- it doesn't necessarily mean there's something dire afoot.

Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Lucifer tried to school his facial features into something close to neutral as his brothers fretted and discussed (Y/N)'s radio silence, and now their absence at breakfast. Mammon was the first to make a commotion about it, of course, causing the other brothers to slowly voice their own concerns about the resident human exchange student.

"I'm tellin' ya, it's just not like them! We ough'ta check on them. What if they caught some kind of weird human disease and died in their sleep?!" Mammon boomed out, fists clenched and resting on the table as he leaned forward over his plate.

"I highly doubt that, Mammon. I don't know of any human disease with such a quick onset and short incubation period before death. Still, it is a bit worrying. Should we make sure they're alright?" Satan, ever the voice of reason, spoke calmly, looking to the eldest to gauge his reaction to his question.

"Maybe they had a late start? I did suggest a new morning skincare regimen for them; maybe they've taken my advice?" Asmo practically crooned, no doubt preening at the thought of a small success with the exchange student- and probably thinking other impure thoughts related to them getting ready for the day.

"They need to make sure they eat. It's no good trying to learn on an empty stomach," Beel interjected, shaking his head and settling a hand on his stomach, clearly appalled at the thought of enduring that kind of experience.

Lucifer kneaded the small ache that had started to form between his eyes from his brothers' bickering and rapid-fire speculations. A sharp pain lanced through his skull from said place when Mammon brought his closed fists down on the table forcefully, rattling the dishes and forcefully pushing himself and his chair back.

"That's it, I'm checkin' on 'em! If all you guys are gonna do is sit around-"

"Enough, Mammon," Lucifer spoke, commanding the attention of all his brothers. A pregnant silence fell over the room as the Morningstar sighed, casually tossing his linen napkin onto the table beside his empty plate as he calmly pushed his chair back to stand. "I will check on them myself. The rest of you are to go about your days as normal unless you hear otherwise."

A couple of the brothers muttered angrily under their breath, but most seemed satisfied with the decision. Without another word, Lucifer strode from the room, leaving his brothers to clean up and be on their way to RAD.

When Lucifer reached (Y/N)'s room, his superhuman hearing picked up soft sniffles from within, heightening his concern about the human. He rapped his knuckles against the solid wood of the door, calling out their name gently but at a volume where he knew he would be heard. When he didn't hear them stir, and nobody came to the door, he resolved himself to intruding upon a potentially sensitive situation. "(Y/N), I'm coming in."

When he opened the door and took a couple steps across the threshold, he panicked a bit at first, not seeing any sign of (Y/N) in the room. Another small sniff allayed those fears, though, and he closed the door softly behind him, making his way into the space as he looked for the human. He finally found them curled up into a small ball on the floor in a corner of the room, out of sight of the door, their face pressed into their knees as they trembled.

The sight in front of him broke Lucifer's heart. (Y/N) had brought such brightness to his and his brothers' lives, showing them the utmost care and showering them with love they hadn't realized they were starved for. To see them like this- shaking with pent-up sobs and white knuckles as they squeezed their hands into fists- was a blow directly to the eldest's normally ice-cold heart.

"(Y/N)," he breathed, slowly approaching as if he was walking towards a frightened, injured fawn. His entire presence softened as he got down on one knee beside the upset exchange student, fighting the overwhelming urge to gently turn their face to his or pull them into his arms. "What's happened?"

(Y/N) shook their head, their arms tightening around their knees. "It's stupid. I'll be fine. Please don't worry about me- I'll be down for breakfast soon."

Lucifer's face pulled down into an even deeper frown at their words, bothered that they were so quick to invalidate themself and push comfort away. "Well- that's why I'm here. Breakfast was over an hour ago, and my brothers are worried about you."

(Y/N)'s head shot up at that, and for the first time Lucifer got a good look at their flushed, tear-stained face. "God- I'm so, so sorry, I didn't mean to worry anybody- I'm such a burden-"

Lucifer made hushing noises, and unable to restrain himself anymore he sat fully on the ground, pulling the human into his arms as they hiccupped and began to sob. When they didn't push him away and began leaning into him, he tightened his hold, rubbing small circles into their lower back as their tears soaked his left shoulder, all the while murmuring soothing words in their ear. After what seemed like a small slice of eternity, but what in reality may have only been fifteen minutes or half of an hour, the exchange student's tears slowed, then stopped altogether, though silent sobs continued to wrack their smaller frame.

Lucifer lifted his head from where he had rested it on top of theirs, leaning back slightly to see their face as he gently tilted it towards him. Red eyes looked back at him, glazed with exhaustion and something else he couldn't quite pinpoint. Reaching up with a gloved hand, he gently cupped their face in the palm of his hand, wiping away the tears he could reach with his thumb.

"You aren't a burden, (Y/N). You go out of your way for myself and my brothers, doing things nobody asked of you to lift us up and make our lives easier. We've needed somebody like you for a long time now, and if anything we are a burden on you. We worry about you because we care." Lucifer broke the silence, his voice gentle but leaving no room for argument. "I won't push you into telling me what's wrong... but if you would like to talk about it, I promise I will do everything in my power to make things right."

Their eyes wavered, then shifted to the side, a frown continuing to mar their beautiful face. "Lu, I... it means a lot to me for you to say something like that. I just... I don't think there is anything you can do, or anybody for that matter, and not for lack of wanting to."

(Y/N) paused for breath, and Lucifer waited, sensing their internal debate about disclosing their struggle to him. Finally, they sighed, sagging against him as if all the strength had just left their body. "You saw my file," they said flatly, their head against his chest. Lucifer tightened his hold around them once again, pressing his face to the crown of their head and making a small sound of affirmation.

"Did it say anything about my anxiety disorder?"

Lucifer paused. Yes, he had noted that there was a mental health condition in their profile- generalized anxiety, with therapist notes stating it had a strong social skew- but it had never come up in conversation with (Y/N) before, and with how bright and happy they usually were, he thought they might be in remission- either that, or managing it extremely well.

(Y/N) continued on before he could answer them. "Barbatos has been making sure I have my medication- which is great, since of all the SSRIs I've tried it's the only one that seems to help level me out. But, the bad thing is... my doctor didn't tell me that a lot of people experience nightmares while on it, and ever since I've started it, it seems like I'm having them almost every single night." They paused for breath, their entire body tensing up, and Lucifer began to soothingly stroke their bicep with his thumb, where his hand had settled after they shifted. "Most of the time they're really vivid and... weird? Like, I had a nightmare a few nights ago that I was leading an expedition into the far North back in the human realm, and just as we were about to reach an Inuit settlement I got lured over the side of the boat by sea monsters and drowned... which has absolutely no relevance to my life experience. Obviously. But in the moment they're so scary-" They shuddered, then continued, almost as if they couldn't stop themself now that they had started speaking. "And then other times they're those really vague ones- like, running away from something through a deep forest at night, and suddenly you're falling off a cliff. But then there's, like, maybe 25% of them that actually are relevant to me- some of the worst periods and moments of my life- and those-" They almost choked on their words at the end, and Lucifer squeezed gently, worried they might start crying again.

When they stayed silent, Lucifer spoke. "How long has this been going on?"

There was a pause before the human answered, as if they knew he wouldn't be happy. "Since before I was brought here."

Lucifer was shocked. The exchange student had been here for several months already, and he was only just now hearing about this? Another pang lanced through his heart, wondering how many other mornings they had spent like this, and he deeply regretted the thought of them spending so many nights tortured by their own mind, all alone.

"You should have come to me sooner, (Y/N). You didn't have to suffer in silence." Lucifer's tone softened the words, and he again leaned back to get a look at the expression on the exchange student's face.

"I didn't want to be- troublesome. All your brothers have their own commitments and things they do, and you especially have so much on your plate. I didn't want to disrespect anybody's time."

Just when Lucifer thought things couldn't get worse, they did. He could hear their fear of being a burden, even with their carefully chosen words. The exchange student had put themself through months of agony, all because they hadn't wanted to trouble him. The revelation deeply disturbed him. A handful of months was nothing in a demon's life, just a blip, but for a human? That was a very long time.

"You are incredibly important, to all of us. Your struggles are never a waste of our time, even if you feel they're insignificant." Lucifer spoke firmly, trying to put every ounce of the conviction he felt into his voice. He reached up again to gently turn the human's face towards him, meeting their eyes with his own crimson ones. "Please, don't put yourself through something like this again. If I can bring even a small amount of the comfort you've brought me back to you, I would move the heavens to do it. Promise me."

Their eyes glimmered, and their bottom lip trembled. "I promise," they almost whispered, their voice choked up.

Lucifer impulsively brought his face closer to theirs, softly placing a chaste kiss on their forehead. The exchange student sniffled, bringing their hands up to wipe at their face.

"I will talk to Solomon and Satan about any potions they might know of to combat your nightmares. In the meantime, please come find me in the event that they wake you up in the middle of the night. I'm no stranger to night terrors."

When they acquiesced, he smiled, satisfied. "Now, get dressed. I'm informing Lord Diavolo that we're taking a personal day off- no buts." He spoke, already seeing the protest in their eyes and on their lips, which had parted on the start of a word. "We'll do whatever you want. My treat."

Their brows furrowed. "Won't you get in trouble?"

Lucifer stood, bringing (Y/N) up with him. "Not if I'm doing it for the exchange student's benefit. I'll give you ten minutes while I make the call." The softness the Morningstar had displayed was now gone, replaced with his usual composure as he began walking towards the door, fishing his D.D.D. out of his pocket as he moved.

"Lu?"

He paused at the door, turning back to look at the human. Their eyes were glimmering in the dim light of the room, arms wrapped around their waist. Lucifer thought they were about to cry again until he recognized the sheer gratitude in their expression.

"Thank you, for this- and for everything."

Lucifer showed a soft smile, just for them. "Anything for you, (Y/N)."

#obey me swd #swd obey me #obey me #obey me! #obey me! lucifer #soft lucifer #comfort #lucifer x gn!reader

[anonymous-tals]

Oops, I projected my mental health issues onto a fictional character that is similar to me.  Time to write fanfiction, I guess!

TW: Eating Disorders.  If you are struggling or are in recovery from an eating disorder, here’s a big ol’ trigger warning.  There are no numbers or specifics about anything but it does center around Brad Bakshi of the show Mythic Quest struggling with his eating disorder.

This is not in an attempt to glamorize eating disorders(not that I wrote anything that would but just in case someone misinterprets this).  Eating disorders are not cute or quirky.  They are serious illnesses that lead to death.  If you are struggling with an eating disorder, you deserve recovery.  Please reach out for help to a trusted adult.

National Eating Disorder Association 1-800-931-2237

One last trigger warning for eating disorders before we begin!  I hope the writing isn’t trash.  If you have any critiques, feel free to comment them.  I hope you enjoy the story(if this is cringey, future me, you have permission to murder me right now):

Brad’s eyes opened, squinting as he tried to adjust to the harsh lights.  He looked around the room, confused as to where he was.  After a couple of seconds, he identified the room as a hospital room.  There was a lady sitting on a chair by the door reading a book.  Adjusting himself, Brad slowly sat up, his head aching as he did.  The lady perked up as she noticed Brad had awakened.

“Oh!  You’re awake!”, she said, calmly, putting down her book.

“Where-Where am I?”, said Brad.

“You’re in the hospital, sir.”  Brad looked around the room.  The walls were a cool green.  Typical nature photos shuffled through on a tv that was mounted on the wall in front of his bed as it waited to be used.  There was a thin door that he guessed was either a bathroom or a closet.  Brown cupboards lined the walls.  He moved his arm only to notice there was a tube attached to it.

“What the hell happened?”, he thought.  The previous day, or what he presumed to be the previous day, had been foggy.  Well, pretty much everyday lately had been a blur.

“I’m going to go tell a nurse you’re awake so we can do weights and vitals.”  A pang of fear struck him at the sound of the word weight.  Someone else was going to see what he weighed.  His thoughts were racing.

“Just take a deep breath.”, he thought.  He tried to calm himself down by looking around the room.  He noticed there was a card on the counter beneath the cabinets.  Curiosity got the best of him and he stood up.  Stars popped into his vision and he steadied himself before making his way to the counter.  The tube was just barely long enough for him to reach it.  The cover read, ‘Get well soon!’.  Brad walked back to the hospital bed and sat on the edge of the mattress.  “I wonder who it’s from?”, he thought, opening the card.  “I can’t believe you are in the hospital!  You appeared so healthy.  Get well, soon, motu.”

“Brad Bakshi?”, a nurse called from the doorway.  He looked up, tossing the card into a trash can by the bed.  The lady who had been sitting in the room with him walked in and sat down again, opening her book.  “Hello, I’m Amanda Armstrong and I’ll be your nurse today.  Do you know why you’re here?”, she said.

“No.”, Brad replied, shortly.

“Well, you were brought here by…”, she looked down at a clipboard she was holding.  “...Ian Grimm?  Does that name sound familiar?”

“Yes, he’s my boss.”  Brad kept his voice calm but his heart was starting to quicken.  Memories from the day previous began to surface.

“Well, he said you had fainted while walking up a flight of stairs.”  Brad’s calm demeanor cracked as the memories flooded back.

“Oh...yah.  I remember that.”

“Yes, well, you got a concussion.  Thankfully, it isn’t too bad.”

“When will I be getting out?”, Brad said, shaking away his feelings of anxiety.

“Well, let’s take your vitals first and then we can discuss that.  Come with me.”  Brad followed Amanda out into the hall.  They didn’t walk for long but the environment made him feel uneasy.  There was something surreal about it.  Or maybe it was the fact that he felt a little light headed that made everything feel a bit off.  “We’ll be in here.”, said Amanda, opening the door.  Brad entered the room, surveying his surroundings.  It looked like a typical room for check-ups.  Amanda made her way to the computer sitting on the desk and started logging in and opening a file.  “Ok, let’s do your vitals.  I’m going to ask you to lay down and stay still, please!”  She walked over to the wall where a weird machine stood.  “I’m just going to put this on your arm, if you’d roll up your sleeve for me.”  Brad rolled up his sleeve and she velcroed what appeared to be something relating to blood pressure.  “Ok, I’m going to need you to answer honestly.  Have you had any feelings of depression or sadness?”

“Excuse me?”, said Brad, startled, sitting up.

“Please lay down, Mr.Bakshi.  Begrudgingly, Brad lay down.

“Why on earth are you asking me this?”, said Brad, frustrated.

“Well…”, she hesitated.  “Ok, I’m going to be direct with you here.  Your boss reported that you hadn’t been eating much and you have been appearing to be quite fatigued and dizzy.  Right now, we’re doing your vitals to see what we’ll need to do.”

“Are you implying that I have an eating disorder?  I’ll tell you right now that I don’t.”

“Well, the lanugo is telling a different story.  Now, please, let’s go through the questions.”  The nurse asked the questions while doing the vitals despite Brad giving short, passive aggressive answers.

“Ok, time for weight and height.”  Brad's heart quickened.

“Do we have to?”

“I’m going to have you turn around.  You won’t even see it!”  He stepped onto the scale as he tried to hide his growing panic.

“You fat idiot.  If you restricted more, maybe you wouldn’t be so anxious right now.  You wouldn’t even be here, I bet!  You fat, stupid, fatty-”

“Ok, you can step off!”  The nurse's voice interrupted his thoughts and he stepped off the scale.  Ok, let’s do your height.

She measured his height and then went over the computer and input the information.

“Ok.  So, here’s what we’ve got going on here, Mr.Bakshi.  Your vitals are showing symptoms of anorexia and so is your BMI.”

“BMI is garbage.”, Brad said dismissively.

“Well, that doesn’t disregard any of the other information.  I can’t force you to do anything since you’re an adult but I would highly suggest going into inpatient care.”

“For the last time, I don’t have an eating disorder!  Sorry, I care about my health!  I thought losing weight was a good thing!”  The nurse sighed before closing out of the tabs on the computer.

“Well, you can think it over during the next couple days.  You’ll need to stay here to make sure your head is okay.”  Rolling his eyes, Brad scoffed.

“Fine, whatever.  My decision won’t change, though!”

They headed back to the room and Brad sat down on his bed.  He stared at the tv.  It had just faded to a picture of a monarch butterfly on a purple flower.  His gaze travelled across the room until it fell onto the card he had thrown in the trash can.

“I bet I wouldn’t even get diagnosed with anything.  I’m too fat.  I need to be thinner.  I’m not even that bad.  I need to be that bad, though.”  Just then, a sharp knock on the door halted his thoughts in their tracks.  Brad looked up to see David standing at the doorway with a balloon and a gift bag.

  “Great, just what I needed.”, said Brad, sarcastically.

“Nice to see you too, Brad.”  Brad rolled his eyes in response.  “The office was really worried about you!  You sure took a tumble.  Anyways, here’s a balloon!  And a gift!  Courtesy of your friends at the office!”

“Interesting.  I didn’t consider you guys as friends.”, Brad replied coldly.

“What do you want me to say, then?  Huh?  Courtesy of everyone you annoy and pester?”  Brad looked away, not responding.  He was finding it harder and harder to keep his emotions hidden underneath.

“Listen, David.  I don’t care about you guys and you guys don’t care about me and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“I’m sorry we’re decent enough human beings to care about other people.”

“Pshh, you don’t care about me.  You just want to feel good about yourselves so you can feel like you’re a decent human being.  So you can stop pretending you care about me because you don’t, ok?  No one does.”  His emotions were slipping through.  He could feel his eyes welling up but he wouldn’t allow the tears to fall.

“Come on, Brad.  Of course people care about you!  Your brother for example!  He’s a great guy!  He threw you that awesome birthday party, remember?”  Brad sat still, not responding.  “Earth to Brad, anyone in there?”, David said, giving a small laugh.

“Shut up!”  Brad shouted loudly, causing David to wince.  “My brother is a horrible person.  He has gone out of his way to ruin my life.  In fact, he is ruining my life right now.”  His voice cracked as a tear broke through.

“Brad, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize-”

“Just leave, ok?  Please just leave.”  Brad’s heart began to beat faster.  “You idiot.”, he thought.  “You let him see that you’re weak.  You are weak.  You’re just a fat, weak, pussy.”  His breathing was getting quicker and quicker.  The room started to spin.  It felt like everything was happening all at once.  Just then, he felt a hand on each of his shoulders.

“Take a deep breath, ok?”, said David.  Brad hesitated before taking a deep breath in and letting it out.  “In, 2, 3, 4.  Out, 2, 3, 4.  In, 2-”  Slowly Brad began to calm down.  He opened his eyes, not even realizing that he had closed them.  “Better?”, asked David, taking a step back.  Brad looked towards the window, avoiding eye contact, wiping the tears from his face.  He tried to think of something witty to say but he was too tired.  They were both quiet for a bit before David broke the silence.  “Well, I have to go but I-”

“Stay.  Please.”  Brad didn’t break eye contact with the window.

“I...I guess I could stay.”  David pulled up the chair that the lady had been in earlier.  They sat there in silence for a while before David grabbed the remote for the TV.  “Are you good with me putting something on?”  Brad stayed quiet.  “I’ll take that as a yes!”  He scrolled through the small selection of movies before choosing something and relaxing into his chair.

…

They sat there for a while.  Movies played while David talked about what had happened at the office that day.  Poppy and Ian created an obstacle course to see who was better.  Not better at one specific thing.  Just better in general.  Brad didn’t respond but every once in a while, a small smile would crack through.

“Well, it’s getting late so I think I should actually get going.”, David said, standing up and started walking out the door.  Just before he left, Brad spoke.

“Thank you...for staying and all.”  He, once again, wasn’t making eye contact.

“Of course, man.  It’s no big deal!”  There was a pause before Brad spoke again.

“They want me to do an inpatient program.”

“Oh?  For…”  David trailed off.

“Yah…”  Brad started fidgeting with the corner of the blanket on the bed.  “I don’t know what to do.  Whether I should go or not.”

“Well, I’d say you should do what you think would benefit you best.”, said David, taking a couple steps towards him.  Brad was silent.

“...Thanks, David.”

David gave a small wave as he walked out the door.  Brad sat there awake for a while, unable to sleep.  He sat there, listening to the sounds of the hospital through the door.  A woman, presumably a nurse, poked her head in the room.  “Would you like to order dinner?”  Brad shook his head and the nurse left.  He then spotted the gift bag that David had brought.  He picked it up and removed the tissue paper stuffed in at the top.  Inside there was a pig plush and a card.  The plushy was adorable and very soft.  He pet the pig plush, enjoying the soothing texture, before placing it in his lap and moving onto the card.  It was your typical get better soon card.  On the inside, there were either signatures or little get well messages from everyone.  It seemed like the pig plush was Jo’s idea.  Brad leaned over and placed the card on the side table next to his bed.  He looked at it for a minute before grabbing the pig, getting under the covers and falling asleep.

#brad bakshi #brad bakshi fanfic #is this cringey? i can't tell. #mythic quest fanfic #mythic quest