#SHE’S NOT FUCKING DOING IT. I’M NOT ASKING FOR MUCH HERE. SHE’S NOT TRYING.
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andromeda | (dybmn? bonus)
a bonus vignette from spencer's POV. we find out how he really feels about reader. takes place the day before the argument at the bar.
note: this is not part six! takes place between parts four and five, five being the most recent part. read part five here
18+
warnings/tags: fem!reader, semi-graphic descriptions of sexual fantasies, some angst, you're not actually present, mention of alcohol, very vague discussions of murdery stuff bc he's supposed to be working, sassy spencer makes an appearance
a/n: for all my angels who said they wanted a snippet of spencer's POV! i'm sorry if i'm overdoing it with this story or clogging the spencer tags, i'm just having a lot of fun! i hope you enjoy or that this may be clears some things up for you, pls lmk your thoughts:) ily!!!
Spencer is incessantly drumming the particle board table underneath his fingers.
The polymer veneer is one of his least favorite textures—he hates the grain of it and if he were to accidentally scratch the table with his nails he knows it would make the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
But of all the things he’s worried about, that ranks very low on the list.
He’s got a lot of mental tabs open all the time—and the tabs, he can deal with. It’s when he starts trying to operate with multiple windows that he begins to struggle. His brain, while it is a very fine tuned sort of computer, only has one monitor. Unfortunately, no human (except for the ones who’ve had their brain hemispheres surgically split) is immune to the inevitable pitfalls of multitasking. By dividing his mental energy between you and his job, he’s really fucking up his job. But he also thinks he really fucked up with you on that phone call the other night and for being as logical as he is he can’t seem to make that feel unimportant—even though he’s disgusted with himself for it because there are literally people dying.
Someone knocks on the open conference room door—he looks up, skimming his lips over his fist.
“What’s up?” he says too quickly upon seeing Emily’s mildly concerned face peering in on him.
Her mouth bridges into a sort of nonchalant frown and her brows kick up.
“Just… checking in. Haven’t heard from you all morning.”
“Yeah, the, uh—the geo-profile. I’m still… I’m still working it out.”
It’s not like he’s ever been phenomenal with his syntax in a social sense, but Spencer is certainly aware he’s doing even worse than usual right now.
“Okay. Uh… is there anything in particular stumping you, or…?”
“Nope. Just not enough information. But I’m—I’m going to keep trying.”
“Alright. Got your phone handy?”
It’s an odd question—of course he has his phone handy. He’s been doing this job longer than Emily has. How else would he communicate with the rest of the team? He bristles.
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”
Emily shakes her head. She’s always been particularly good at reading his moods.
“You’re not under attack, Reid. I was just asking.”
Just as he’s about to say, why would you assume I’m not prepared for my job, he manages to swerve away and stifle the words with his fist. Instead he looks back down at his copy of the map and nods. In reality, he truly isn’t prepared for his job today. The reason he has his phone so close, fully charged and at top volume is because he’s worried he’ll miss a call from you.
Emily says something else, and he hums in response, and then she’s gone.
He shouldn’t be reading into your reticence this much. It’s not like you just sit by the phone all day, eagerly awaiting a call or text from him (like he does you). You have a life. You’re busy. And even if you are intentionally dodging his texts, he can’t entirely fault you for it. Spencer knows he’s clingy. He knows he’s overbearing. It’s part of why he panicked the other night and told you the whole humiliating story about Elle. Because he can’t ever just be cool and he felt the need to explain himself.
But the problem was, and is, that he doesn’t know how much longer he can go without saying those three words that fucked him over all those years ago.
So he’d danced around them. Applied them to someone else to try and avoid outright professing his all-consuming love for you over the phone. However you feel, Spencer has to assume he feels more. Spencer always has to assume he feels more because he usually does and it’s gotten him into trouble before. And now he’s pretty sure he was exactly right, as often is the case, because you didn’t tell him he was mistaken and you’d clammed up and you haven’t talked to him since and he’s not supposed to be reading into it this much.
Three victims killed and dumped within a 6 mile radius of the first victim plus one victim killed and dumped 23.8 miles away. That doesn’t make any fucking sense. Fuck this guy.
Spencer decides the problem is that he needs more caffeine.
Or possibly, if he were a different kind of man—copious amounts of alcohol.
So he stows his phone in a pocket and asks the first person he sees where the coffee machine is.
“Looks like you found it earlier,” the woman says, glancing pointedly down at his mostly empty mug. A playful smirk tugs at pinkish-brownish lips. She’s pretty, he realizes distantly. But he registers it the same way he’d take note of the model of a car, or the species of a bird, or the kind of shoes someone is wearing. It doesn’t actually interest him. It’s just part of processing his environment. “I can show you to it?”
He doesn’t have the heart or energy to explain that someone else brought him his cup earlier and he’s not flirting with her.
“If you could just point me in the right direction…?”
She laughs, short and dry, before she’s pointing down a hall.
“Kitchenette down there and to the left.”
“Thanks,” he mutters, already walking away without sparing her a second glance.
She’s the kind of woman he would have paid a lot more attention to before you came along. Not that he’d ever sleep with someone on the job (not since he was 25, anyway), but if he’d met her under any other circumstances he probably would have cared more about the way her pupils dilated and her eyes had widened slightly and she’d adjusted her posture and all the other small things people do when they’re attracted to someone else. 30 year old Spencer might have slept with her. 27 year old Spencer definitely would have slept with her. Current Spencer obsessively pines for a woman who is already his girlfriend and whom he has yet to sleep with at all far too much to think about other women like that.
But god, does he think about you like that.
His feet carry him down the dim, carpeted hallway but really it took barely a nudge and he’s thinking about you like that. At work. As he’s pouring himself coffee.
Spencer is confident in the fact that if anyone were to look at him right now, they’d never guess he’s running clips of you in his mind like a dirty supercut. Because he’s just pouring coffee. That’s one good thing about having all those tabs open all the time. He can toggle between them quickly. He has enough going on in the background that people look at him and all they can tell is that he’s thinking hard about lots of things. Some of them just happen to be the way you look when you’re naked on his bed, skin shining and glazed eyes sleepy, parted lips higher in color than usual and catching your breath. Some of them happen to be your hair brushing his stomach before he gathers it back for you. Some of them happen to be the way your thighs feel on either side of his face, or how you stretch around his fingers, or how you might feel when you stretch around his—
He hisses as hot coffee overflows from the mug and burns his hand.
Maybe he’s not as calm and collected as he thought.
But on top of all the other things he’s dealing with, having been so close to actually sleeping with you the other night is really fucking with his head. Even if he tells himself he wouldn't have done it, he knows himself better than that. He's too familiar with the effect you have on his judgement.
“Found it okay?”
Spencer looks down, surprised to see the woman from earlier sitting at her desk and watching him as he quickly passes by on his way back to the conference room. Her legs are crossed. She’s wearing a pencil skirt and a flouncy sort of blouse which seems impractical for working in an FBI field office. Maybe she notices his eye catching on her figure and misguidedly swivels her chair to give him a better look. But all he’s noticing is that it doesn’t look like yours. Now he’s picturing the curve of your hip dripping in silk after that first night at Rossi’s. How your waist and your stomach feel when he slides his hands over you. This woman—she might as well not even be here for all he’s actually seeing her.
“Yeah. Thanks again.”
Then he’s gone. Very briefly he acknowledges that he should feel sorry for so obviously brushing her off, but he doesn’t care even close to enough. He sets the coffee down on the table and rounds to the board where one of several maps is taped. On autopilot he draws lines between dump sites because one of the background tabs had deduced, while he was busy watching you like porn, that the distance between dump sites form the beginnings of the constellation Orion with some mathematical precision that’s too exacting to be coincidental. Orion’s Belt plus the most recent victim. Betelgeuse.
There are ten formally named stars that make up Orion. He marks all of them, but circles the transposed coordinates of Bellatrix, Saiph, Rigel and Meissa as the next most likely dump sites. Most probably it will be Orion’s head. They’re all in wooded areas. He calls Garcia. Garcia will call Emily, wherever she is. If the unsub sticks to pattern, which they always do, they have until midnight. It’s trite, really. Predictable, like people always are. Far too quickly he drinks half the cup of scalding coffee and retraces his steps through the office to find the bathroom.
It’s empty. The fluorescent lights hum. Spencer washes his hands with cold water and presses still wet fingers to his eyes. You’re waiting for him behind the black of his lids.
At first you would whine, and he would kiss you and you’d moan into his mouth and say his name when he opened you up as far as you would go. The air would be thick and warm with sex and vanilla perfume. Afterwards he’d take care of you and buy new sheets for his bed in your favorite color even if they didn’t match the walls and there would be nothing you’d want for that he couldn’t give to you ever again.
But.
That’s all contingent.
No matter how often he fantasizes about it, no matter in how much detail, and regardless of how often those details change wildly, one thing always stays the same.
The shape of your lips, swollen from kissing, bending around five or six vowels and only two consonants (it seems odd that there are only two consonants in I love you), sometimes before you start, sometimes in the middle or right at the peak—but always there, always moving in slow motion—and always silent.
In real life, they’d be aloud. It’s why his fantasies aren’t good enough. It’s why he can’t��stop fantasizing about it. That’s the only part that really matters to him. The rest varies.
Not because having sex with you doesn’t matter—it matters so much he almost shatters his molars whenever he starts picturing it around other people. But because Spencer can’t have sex with you until you love him.
And he worries that you can’t love him until you have sex with him.
The last time he thought that about a person, it didn’t turn out well.
Maybe there is some magic number. Some amount of times you need to have sex with someone before they’ll love you back.
If there is, he knows for a fact it’s more than 32.
And he also knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he cannot have loveless sex with you thirty three times while he waits to find out.
Not again.
But he's going to hold out as long as he possibly can until you say it because he so badly wants you to love him back. He'll let the weight of every ignored text, every reminder that you don't feel that way about him, hang from his shoulders until he collapses. And then he'll probably try to get back up.
Recycled paper towels scratch against his skin. He dries his face and hands and throws them crumpled into the trash can.
Outside the restroom, he pulls out his phone. For safety reasons and paranoia disguised as professionalism, you’re not his lock screen. It’s a photo of the Andromeda Galaxy. Whatever distance lies between you and Spencer, it could always be greater. No matter where you are in the world, you will always be the same 2.537 million light years away from Andromeda that he is.
It makes Orion feel much closer. You, too.
He sends you a text—the third message in a row.
The distance between blue bubbles feels like light years.
I’ll be home tomorrow. I miss you.
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid angst#dr spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine
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Wolfstar x bookworm!reader
What about reader, Regulus and Barty have their own little chaotic book club and Wolfstar often have to go in search of reader as Barty happens to enjoy switching the location of said meetings.
Wolfstar Sirius, ends up dragging reader away for cuddles and reader ends up reading to them, running her fingers through Sirius's hair as he needs extra affection
Hope this inspires you, I hope you feel better soon, sending all my optimism your way 🫶
you guys really came through with the cutest wolfstar requests - thank you and I owe you my life
poly!wolfstar x bookworm!reader who has a book club with Regulus and Barty...much to Sirius' chagrin
CW: fem!reader, Sirius being a sucky baby, Barty being a shit disturber, Regulus being exhausted, Remus being there for the drama
Remus didn’t bother looking up from his book at the sound of his dorm room door slamming open unceremoniously followed by the sound of Quidditch equipment falling in a heap on the ground because he didn’t need to; it had Sirius written all over it.
Not only would Prongs never treat his equipment with such disrespect and disregard, but he also always came back from practice far too excitedly.
“Fucking hells, Prongs is working us hard.” Sirius grumbled as he fell face first spread-eagle onto his bed.
“Rough.” Remus gruffed back, knowing better than to try to say anything even remotely supportive of James’ coaching methods, but also not feeling particularly sorry for his boyfriend, seeing as he actively chooses to be on the Gryffindor team every year.
“Where’s our dolly?” Sirius mumbled into his bedding.
Remus failed to smother a smirk as he flipped a page in his book. “Reading.”
Sirius’ head popped up at that as he looked at Remus bemusedly. “Then why isn’t she here reading with you?”
“Because she’s reading with her book club.”
Remus’ response was met with a small bout of silence.
A very small bout.
“Why aren’t you in the book club?”
Remus finally let his book fall to his lap in order to consider Sirius. “Because I’m not reading the same book as they are.”
“Who’s they?”
“Sirius.” Remus warned.
“Remus.” Sirius returned without hesitation.
The two boys stared insistently at the other; Remus fighting the urge to laugh at how petulant Sirius looked with his hair still all windswept and falling out of the bun he’d thrown it in for practice.
“Who’s they?” Sirius repeated with faux casualty.
“Regulus and Junior.”
All faux casualty was thrown out the window as Sirius slammed his hands onto his bed and sat up on his knees quickly. “You’re sodding kidding me!”
“‘Fraid not, Pads.” Remus offered as he turned to look back down at his book.
Sirius was having none of that as he accio’d Remus’ book into his hand.
“You let her leave with Regulus and Junior!?”
“What do you mean let, Pads? I’m not her keeper.” Remus scolded. Sirius looked like he really wanted to argue with that point, but also knew better.
“Well…this is just not right at all!”
“What makes it wrong, Sirius? That she’s not here to cuddle you?” Remus asked flatly.
“Yes!” He shouted in exasperation as he headed towards the dorm room door, and whilst Remus found his boyfriend quite exhausting right now, he couldn’t pass up the show this was guaranteed to provide.
Any tension that dissipated from Sirius’ shoulders as he spotted you in the library quickly returned when he also spotted his younger brother and his brother’s best friend sitting along with you.
Regulus rolled his eyes and snapped his book shut abruptly knowing full well that Sirius’ temper tantrum was about to force their book club to a close, but Barty simply smirked at the promise of some drama.
“Sorry, but I’m afraid this book club is closed; we’ve already hit our quota for Black’s.” Barty jeered as Sirius approached your table.
“Sod off, Junior.” He grumbled quietly.
“Hi Siri! How was your practice?” You asked cheerfully; Remus almost laughed at the way most of Sirius’ ire melted away at the question.
“Long.” He pouted, causing you to coo in sympathy.
“James working you too hard?” You asked tenderly, taking his first two fingers into your hand from where his hand was dangling dejectedly beside you.
“Oh cry me a sodding river, Black.” Barty scoffed. “Now would you skedaddle please? We’re trying to have a tantalising discussion on the ins and outs of the literary masterpiece Alice in Wonderland.”
Remus could restrain the laugh that bubbled out of him at that. “Are you guys actually reading Alice in Wonderland?”
“Yes.” Regulus sneered defensively.
“Treasure thought I’d love it.” Barty explained haughtily. “And she was right.”
“I don’t give a thestral’s arse what you’re reading, Junior; I want my girlfriend back!” Sirius barked, earning him shushes from surrounding students.
Barty looked like he was thoroughly enjoying the verbal sparring that was no doubt growing to near physical sparring levels when Regulus rolled his eyes and stood. “Barty, please; I really don’t feel like fielding one of my brother’s meltdowns.”
“Maybe I feel like fielding one of your brother’s meltdowns; did you ever think about that, Regulus? Salazar, you Black’s are so selfish.” He spat with vitriol; and though he continued berating his friend, he did in fact collect his book and his notes and stand from the table, continuing to jeer at Regulus as they exited the library.
“I’m sorry we interrupted your book club, lovebug.” Remus placated as you turned to consider your two boyfriends.
“I’m not!” Sirius argued quickly. “I wanted my post-practice cuddles.” He pouted, the end of his sentence trailing off as Remus noted the slightest dusting of pink on his cheeks.
Your face softened as you looked at Sirius with equal parts love and teasing. “I’m terribly sorry, Siri.”
“Well…thank you.” He mumbled.
“Come on then.” Remus offered with a laugh, patting Sirius on the bum roughly. “Let’s go for our post-practice cuddles then.”
You stood from the table, accepting Remus’ hand as you did.
“No, none for Moony.” Sirius whined petulantly, causing Remus to scoff indignantly.
“Why not!?”
“You have not been sympathetic nor helpful in the slightest to my plight.”
“I came with you to fetch her!” Remus defended.
“No.” Sirius started, throwing him a glare that held little to no malice. “You came to watch me argue with Junior and Reg.”
“Same thing.” Remus muttered quietly, earning him another glare from Sirius.
You squeezed Remus’ hand twice as you bumped your elbow into Sirius’ side, encouraging him to throw an arm over your shoulders. “What book would you like to read, Sirius?” You asked him sweetly.
And that’s how Remus found himself laying on his bed alone as you and Sirius laid in his bed; Sirius’ head propped on your chest as you read from the beginning of Alice in Wonderland and played with his hair the way he liked equally in his human and animagus form. And Remus couldn’t find it in him to be particularly perturbed when the two of you looked so sodding sweet.
#marauders era#marauders au#reader insert#self insert#marauders fanfiction#sirius black#remus lupin#wolfstar#wolfstar x reader#wolfstar x you#poly!wolfstar#poly!wolfstar x reader#poly!wolfstar x you#sirius black x reader#sirius black x you#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x sirius black x reader#fem!reader#alice in wonderland#book club#poly!wolfstar fluff#poly!wolfstar blurb#poly!wolfstar imagine#ellecdc fics
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transfer- s.reid
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a/n: intended for fem reader, but as always imagine what you like:)))))))))
summary: how your sudden transfer forces certain feelings to the surface
pairing: spencer reid x bau! reader
warnings: none
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“It’s an executive decision Y/n, they are not asking,” Hotch sighed and you felt bile rise in your throat as the team stared in horror. You were being transferred to the Pentagon. “I know this will be an emotional time for all of us-”
“It’s not emotional, it’s a horrible idea,” Spencer said, his voice calm despite the storm raging in his mind. He wouldn’t be able to see you everyday? Bullshit. “She’s a crucial member of this team-”
“Spencer, they aren’t asking. Strauss expects her to be back in DC within the next hour,” he explained and exited the room. Everyone fell silent and Spencer raised his eyes to meet yours. You looked terrified and angry, he hadn’t seen you this angry ever.
Not only were you one of the most vital members of the team, you were the thing that made all this shit just that small bit easier to deal with. What would he do now without your teasing jokes? How would he even want to go to work when he knew he wouldn’t see your tired smiles in the mornings? When would he remember to rest if you weren’t reminding him?
And how would he be able to tell you he was in love with you when he didn’t see you everyday?
“I-I’ll… I’ll go get my bag,” You sighed, accepting your fate and leaving the room, Spencer trailing behind you.
“Y/n!” He called after you. “Wait, I-I’ll come with you to grab your things,” He internally kicked himself for not thinking of something better to say. When he caught up with you outside the building, he could see the tears falling from your eyes, even in the darkness of the night.
“I don’t want to leave,” You sniffled. “I told them I didn’t want a new position, I told them that I was h-happy here, that I want to be h-here.”
Spencer took you in his arms, letting you cry into the side of his neck. Had the circumstances been different, he would’ve over thought about the fact that you were so close to him. So close that he could smell your hair, so close that he could feel your soft skin on his, so close that he was very much enjoying the way you clung to him.
“I mean… I don’t have any say? T-there’s so much more I wanted to do… I- I had this whole plan-”
“It’s ok,” he soothed. “You’ll do great things at the pentagon-”
“Fuck the pentagon!” You exclaimed, pushing him off of you. “I wanted to… I wanted to tell you for so long, a-and then the moment never seemed right, a-and I just assumed I-I’d lost m-my chance and I’m was sure you were already s-seeing someone so it didn’t even matter but then we g-got even closer a-and-”
Spencer’s heart was beating out of his chest, were you trying to say what he thought you were? “What are you trying to say?!” He shouted over your rambling, stopping the pacing you were doing in front of him.
“I’m in love with you!” You shouted back. Spencer stood there, stunned, as you anxiously waited for an answer. You got one in the form of the grin on Spencer’s face. One of his hands reached out and grabbed your waist, while the other cupped your cheek, pulling you in to kiss him. His lips against yours were electric. You were relieved that he felt the same way and you were ecstatic that he kissed you.
“I’m in love with you too,” he whispered against your lips, pulling away. Your hands rooted themselves in his hair as he kissed you again, only pulling away when the rest of the team cheered from the door.
You two were met with congratulations and cheers, happy that the two of you had finally told each other how you felt.
You walked onto the airstrip, Spencer’s hand in yours, not even scared for your new role.
You had Spencer, what else did you need?
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criminal minds masterlist :)
navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, obx+)
#criminal minds#criminal minds imagine#bau team#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid#dr spencer reid#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#doctor spencer reid
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First Choice
-M.S {pt 1}
Synopsis: Your best friends with Nicolas Sturniolo. He’s been your best friend since the third grade— you’re now in your senior year. What happens when the brother you don’t get along with all of the sudden needs you to fake date him?
Pairing: good girl!fem!reader (she/her) X bad boy!Matt Sturniolo
Warnings: Cussing, arguments (not angst. yet.), slightly suggestive, cigarettes, mentions of alcohol and drugs, use of Y/N.
<*•*>
“Please, Y/N..” Matt begged, his eyes pleading— unlike how you’ve ever seen him. He’s always been such an asshole to you. Since you’ve been friends with his brother, Nick. On the other hand, Chris was sweet. You never understood why Matt couldn’t be like Chris.
But here you are. Matt was now begging you to be his fake girlfriend. You weren’t sure why he wanted you to, or why he needed anyone to, in that matter.
“Why, Matt? What am I getting out of it?” You scowl, annoyed at the boy, who refused to let you leave the now empty classroom. All of your other classmates were already at lunch, but matt stopped you to ask this ridiculous question.
“Well- I..” Matt sighed, embarrassed in himself. Matt was a very good looking guy, and had his fair share of hookups and girlfriends, but never once did you think he’d be begging you to fake date him. Ever.
“Don’t you dare fucking tell me it’s to get back at your girlfriend.” You state annoyed, just wanting to head to lunch.
“Well, not really..” Matt mumbled. “Okay. Listen to me.” The boy states, as if he hadn’t already had your full attention. “Me and Lacey broke up— obviously, and everyone was teasing me for it, saying I fumbled and shit. Like, Nate, Jordan, Kyle, and even fuckin’ Chris wouldn’t keep his mouth shut, so.. I may have accidentally told them I already have a new girlfriend..” Matt mumbles shyly, and you couldn’t help but snicker.
“No fucking way.” You squeak, trying to hold back your laughter. “You fumbled bad, and your friends are fuckin’ with you for it, so you want me to help you? When have you ever gave a fuck about helping me? All those times I needed a ride or something from the store when you were already out?” You scoffed.
“Y/N, please..” He whines. “c’mon, I’m beggin’ ya..” He pleads. “Fuck, I’ll even get on my knees if ya want me to,”
“Matt, get the fuck up.” You demand, feeling awkward about him kneeling down in front of you. Part of you, however, thought it was cute. The way his hands were intertwined tightly, his hair covering his eyes slightly, but from what you could see of them, he was looking up at you longingly. “Matt. Up.” You demanded more stern this time.
He obliges, quickly standing up in front of you, a glint of hope in his eyes.
“Why me..? Why am I your first choice?” You question. It wasn’t a random question. If you were to agree, this would be something you feel is need-to-know.
“You’re the most believable. Not because your looks or anything like that, but because I’ve known you longest.” He tells you, but the way he speaks makes you think he’s not telling you the complete truth.. but close enough- right?
“Okay— But first, we have to lay ground rules. No kissing me, at all. Second, not too much PDA. I hate PDA in general; and it doesn’t help that we’re not actually dating. Third, pet names and stuff are fine, but never get cocky with me. Okay?” I ask, keeping my voice clear. Being truthful, I wasn’t so sure why I agreed to help him. But I did.
“Really? Thank you!” The boy squeals happily, pulling you into a hug. You tense at his touch, something you haven’t felt before. It wasn’t bad— but it was definitely new. He continues to mumble small ‘thank you’s, before letting you go. “Can you sit by me at lunch? It’ll make it more believable.” He asks.
You reluctantly agree, not quite sure how he was so open to asking you things like this. Asking someone to ‘fake date’ you is something you’d have to work up years of courage to ask someone to do. He immediately slips your hand in his, pulling you out of the empty classroom— the same one he had pulled you into randomly moments before.
You look down at his hand in yours as he wandered down the halls, pulling you behind him. He looked so happy. When you both arrived into the packed commons, he pulled you to the table he usually sat at, your friends giving you an odd look as you strolled right past them, hand-in-hand with your sworn enemy.
The table Matt sat at consisted of his closest friends, Nate, Jordan, Kyle, Luke, Nicky, and his brothers, Nick and Chris. You weren’t familiar with Kyle, Jordan, or Luke, but Nate and Nicky sometimes came over to the triplets house when you were hanging out with Nick.
“Y/n..!” Nick yells, but his voice quickly trailing off. “Matt..?” He says in an unsure tone, his head tilting. “Why are you here?” He questions.
“Guys,” Matt speaks up, grabbing everyones’ attention. “This is the girlfriend I was telling you about.” He states proudly, but almost seemingly unsure of himself. Girlfriend. It sounds different hearing it from him.
“No fucking way.” Nick gapes, his jaw slack.
“Yes fucking way.” Matt teases, before taking his usual seat. “Hold on. You can sit here, sweetheart. I’ll go grab myself a different chair.” He hums, standing back up from his seat after he realizes there was no open seats.
You were taken slightly aback. Obviously Matt would have to act like this, since you were ‘dating’, but it was something you definitely weren’t used to.
“Y/N! You’re insane!” Nick says, holding back a laugh. Your leg bounced slightly as you realized everyone at the table was staring at you.
“Hm? How so?” You asked confused. Was Matt not a good person to date? Obviously he wasn’t nice to you, but thats because you hate each other. He always seemed so sweet and gentle around his ex.
“Matt..?” Nick furrowed his eyebrows judgmentally. “You guys.. hate eachother..?” He questions.
“No, we obviously don’t, Nick.” You correct sweetly, as Matt pulls over a chair to sit next to you. Matt almost immediately noticed that your leg was bouncing, so he gently rested one of his hands on your knees reassuringly.
Even though you told him not to touch you, you do find his touch quite soothing. You glance over at him, and he offers you a slight nod, before his attention goes back to the table full of his friends. Maybe— Just maybe— this whole ‘fake dating’ with Matt wasn’t such a horrible decision after all.
『 ↳✧･ﾟ Finn yaps❕ ;
sorry this chapter is kinda short, i just wanted to make the first chapter shorter and show how the fake dating came to be <3
˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ I do NOT give permission for my work to be published on any other site, nor to be claimed as your own . However , reblogs , likes , and comments are much appreciated ! 🤍
ੈ✩‧₊˚ @bernardenjoyer @lovely-calypso @slut4mattsturn @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07 @75sturn @thenickgirl
divider creds to @v6que 🤍
#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#fanfic#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#fluff#angst#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt x y/n#matt x reader#matt sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo smut
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The Eye of the Hurricane [20] - Nightclub
A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️
Summary: Business deals are open to negotiation.
Word Count: 2600
Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.
Series Masterlist
“Unbelievable,” you muttered to yourself, scratching at Alpine’s head with one hand while holding your phone with the other, your eyes skimming the lines. “Seriously…”
Bucky sipped his coffee. “Care to share with the class, Charm?”
You heaved a sigh and shot him a look, holding up the phone so that he could see the screen.
“Clint leaves the city for a couple of days and HYDRA immediately attacks his territory?” you asked and Bucky hummed.
“I mean he had his people covering it,” he said. “Just because he wasn’t here, doesn’t mean it was open to any attack.”
“Which makes it worse,” you told him with a sigh, then reached out for the jar of peanut butter to dip a spoon into it. “How many sources do these guys have?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Bucky said, reaching out to run his fingers through Alpine’s soft fur as she meowed at him. “You’re coming to the club tonight, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” Your phone buzzed in your hand and you took a look at the notification, then licked your lips.
“Buck.”
“Hm?”
“So you know how our therapist said open communication is very important?”
“I don’t trust the therapist.”
“Shocking,” you deadpanned. “Anyway, I’m meeting Ethan today for lunch.”
Bucky let out a groan before he threw his head back. “Charm…”
“This is me openly communicating.”
“This is you throwing a knife at me and calling it communication,” Bucky corrected you, making your jaw drop.
“It’s not!”
“I will ask this question once again; why are you meeting your ex who wants to fuck you?”
“That’s not—I know the idea isn’t familiar to you, but some people can be friends with their exes.”
“So it’d be fine if I met up with one of my exes for lunch?” he asked and you shrugged your shoulders, trying to ignore the unpleasant flip your stomach did.
“If you can find an ex who doesn’t want to kill you?” you said. “Go ahead.”
He scoffed. “Not all of them hate me.”
“Is the ex who doesn’t hate you in the room with us right now?” you asked back and he made a face.
“I don’t know who fed you those lies, I’m guessing Becca—”
“Becca is very objective when it comes to your exes,” you pointed out. “And how terrible you are in relationships.”
“I’m not terrible in relationships.”
“Did you stay friends with any of your exes?”
“Yeah!”
“Give me a name.”
He blinked a couple of times and cleared his throat. “…Dot.”
“Dot hates your guts, Buck.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know she dumped you,” you said and Bucky clicked his tongue.
“It was a mutual decision.”
“It really wasn’t,” you said. “You do realize that I’ve been best friends with your sister since I was in kindergarten? I know everything about your terrible relationships.”
“To repeat, they’re not—don’t change the subject,” he said as you sipped your coffee. “Your ex?”
“My ex does not want to kill me like your exes or fuck me like you seem to think.”
“Oh he wants to marry you then?” he asked and even though you knew he was being sarcastic, your stomach did a flip. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, I beat him to it.”
You clicked your tongue as you dipped your spoon in the peanut butter jar again.
“As much as I enjoy you referring to me like I’m the last piece of cake,” you deadpanned. “I will make sure both your dick and you regret it the next time you do that.”
He blinked a couple of times and you gave him a bright grin, then popped the spoon into your mouth, then pulled it out to point at him with it.
“See?” you asked him. “Open communication. Therapy works wonderfully for this relationship.”
*
“Tell me I didn’t make you wait for long,” Ethan said as he rushed into the café and you let out a laugh, then stood up to kiss his cheek.
“I just got here, no worries,” you said. “Ordered your coffee though.”
“You know my coffee order?”
“Yeah,” you said and made a face at him. “Terrible order but yeah. Burned into my mind.”
That made him smile as he sat down.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I was going to come sooner but—”
“Let me guess, your boss?”
“One of these days, that man will get in an accident that I’ve been hoping and praying for,” he told you, making you laugh.
“That’s doable,” you said. “I told you before.”
He heaved a sigh. “Stop. Right now, I feel like taking you up on that offer.”
“You can.”
He frowned, then shook his head.
“No no,” he said. “I’ve watched too many movies about this.”
“I’m not going to put a horse head in your bed, Ethan.”
“No, not that!” he said, letting out a chuckle. “Power corrupts.”
You shrugged again. “Nah it doesn’t.”
“It would corrupt me,” he told you as the waitress brought your coffees. “How about you? How’s uh…how’s marriage?”
Your eyes snapped to his and you cleared your throat, shifting in your seat.
“Ethan, if it’s going to lead to yet another—”
“It won’t,” he cut you off and offered you a small smile. “Don’t worry. I got the message.”
A silence fell upon you. You could feel your stomach doing a flip at the implication of what he had said and even though you actually wanted to talk about it, you knew you couldn’t.
Now to think of it…
You weren’t sure if you could even get together with him after your divorce. The idea was tempting yes, but you weren’t sure he could handle the life the job brought with it. While you and Bucky could torture an agent of HYDRA and then get takeout afterwards, doing the same wasn’t possible with Ethan and—
Strangely enough, you found yourself wondering whether you could still do it with Bucky after you two would get a divorce.
“Y/N?”
Your head shot up and you cleared your throat, then smiled at him.
“Sorry,” you said. “Blanked out for a second. You were saying?”
*
Opening night of a club, especially if it was in Barnes, Wilson or Rogers territories, was always so much fun that even when you were teenagers, you and Becca would sneak into them, most of the time to get caught by Steve. Now that you were a grown up, you still enjoyed them but you also knew what was happening in the background.
It was the perfect time to make deals.
The crowd, the music, the alcohol, it all served its purpose to make better deals without getting the weapons or threats involved. Not to mention, getting invited to the opening night showed respect to whoever was a part of any negotiation.
You took a sip of your drink and leaned back on the sofa, keeping your eyes on Mr. Clifford. He was one of the new players in town, but powerful enough to be invited to your -well, Bucky’s- VIP booth tonight. If this deal worked, he could make the shipments to your territory much smoother but the problem was, neither you nor Bucky could decide whether you could trust him or not.
He had good references, but he was still sort of a mystery.
“I wasn’t aware you would be here as well, Mrs. Barnes,” Mr. Clifford said. “So the word on the street is true?”
“What word?” you asked and he smiled.
“That you’re…not just a guest?”
Bucky raised his brows and shot you a small grin while you shrugged your shoulders.
“No, I’m not.”
“She’s the only one I trust,” Bucky said and you smirked, reaching out to hold his hand. Mr. Clifford nodded.
“I see,” he said. “And um—if you don’t mind me ask, will it affect any deals I may make with your father?”
“You will have to ask my father that,” you said. “I hear he’s not open to any new deals but you can try your chances.”
He hummed. “And his heir, Ian?”
Your jaw clenched but you managed to keep your expression flat while Bucky squeezed your hand as if trying to assure you.
“Ian hasn’t been named yet,” he said. “And either way, if you’re making deals with heirs, I may have to rethink my decision to do business with you. Are you that much of an amateur?”
“Bucky.”
“No, I’m not going to do business with him if he’s making deals with people who can’t sit at the grown-ups table.”
“I assure you, that’s not the case,” Mr. Clifford said. “I was just voicing my curiosity, that’s all.”
You downed your drink and leaned in to whisper into Bucky’s ear.
“I’ll be right back,” you said. “Don’t shoot him?”
“No promises,” he murmured and you tried to bite back your smile, then grabbed your purse and stood up to make your way through the dance floor to the bathroom. When you stepped out again, your eyes fell upon Ryan who was by the bar and you smiled to yourself, then approached the bar as well.
“I think you’re the only person who drinks water at a club opening,” you said, making him turn his head and he blinked a couple of times as if he was surprised to see you, then looked down at the glass in his hand.
“Ma’am,” he said, taking a sip of his water and you tilted your head.
“Let me guess,” you said. “Ian told you to be completely sober just in case?”
“It’s my idea, ma’am.”
“Where’s he?”
“In the VIP room there,” he motioned at the closest room and you pulled your brows together.
“And he sent you away?”
Ryan sipped his water in silence and you heaved a sigh.
“Does he know that keeping his right arm out of deals is a terrible idea?”
“I’m just his bodyguard ma’am, nothing more.”
You pursed your lips together and cleared your throat.
“You might as well dance with someone, you know,” you joked. “If he’s going to be there alone, no need for you to get bored.”
The look of complete terror on his face at the suggestion was almost funny. He was a huge guy, and you were pretty sure he could crush someone’s skull with his bare hands if he wanted to, but he looked absolutely terrified at the idea of dancing with someone at the club.
“I’m a great wing-woman,” you told him, making him blink a couple of times. “Anyone caught your attention?”
“Ma’am I—I wouldn’t—” he stammered and you waved a hand in the air.
“And how many times should I tell you to call me Y/N?” you asked and he licked his lips, staring at you.
“I don’t mean disrespect.”
“I don’t think it’s disrespect,” you told him and out of the corner of your eye, you saw the waiter leaving your VIP room mutter something at one of Clifford’s bodyguards by the door before walking away. You frowned.
“Excuse me,” you said as you made your way to the fire exit the waiter walked into. You looked over your shoulder and pulled the small pistol out of your purse, then pushed open the door quietly to step into the hallway.
The waiter was too busy to notice your presence as he pulled a gun out of the cleaning bucket in front of him, but he froze when he heard the sound of you cocking the gun.
“Hi,” you said and he gritted his teeth, raising his hands. “Put the gun down.”
He slowly put the gun down and you smiled.
“There you go,” you said. “Good boy.”
“What are you doing?” he asked as he turned to you and you shrugged your shoulders.
“I mean I’m trying to enjoy my night to be honest but…”
“Just walk away.”
You scoffed.
“Right,” you said. “That’s gonna happen.”
“If you walk away now, you’ll benefit from it,” he said. “Mr. Clifford says if Barnes dies, you could take over his territory, his business. It’ll be your right.”
You rolled your eyes.
“Well yeah but also if Bucky dies, I’ll have to wear black and I can’t really pull off black dresses,” you said. “Becca says it has something to do with my undertone—”
You didn’t get to finish your sentence when he lunged to throw a punch at you but you caught his hand and twisted it, making him cry out in pain. You headbutted him right in the nose, hearing the crack of the bone before you grabbed the bigger pistol on the floor to slam it against his head, causing him to drop to the floor unconscious.
“This night is getting more and more fun,” you murmured as you shook your head, then pushed your pistol back into your purse. You made your way to the door again to open it, then approached Ryan to tap him on the shoulder.
“Can I borrow you for a moment?” you asked and turned around without waiting for him to answer, but he followed you anyway until you got to the hallway and opened the door. Ryan grabbed his gun from his waistband the moment he saw the unconscious guy lying on the floor, then turned to you.
“Ma’am, are you alright?” he asked, stepping into the hallway with his gun ready, checking for any threats. “Did he hurt you?”
“Not at all,” you said. “Keep an eye on him until I get back.”
His back straightened immediately like he was a soldier and you were his commander. “Yes ma’am.”
“And if Ian says anything,” you said. “This happened in Barnes territory, he’s our hostage. No one else’s.”
“Yes ma’am.”
You nodded your head and took a step to the door, then turned around.
“And thank you, Ryan,” you said, making him pull his brows together in confusion as if he wasn’t used to hearing it. “I appreciate it.”
He swallowed thickly, then nodded.
“Ma’am,” he said and you pushed open the door, then made your way to the VIP room Bucky was in.
“As I was saying, our price isn’t…” Clifford stopped talking when he saw you walk inside. “Ah Mrs. Barnes, welcome back.”
You shot him a fake smile, then leaned in closer to Bucky so that you could whisper into his ear.
“He’s trying to kill you.”
Bucky’s gaze snapped to yours when you pulled back and he heaved a sigh as if he was exhausted, then ran a hand over his eyes.
“Great,” he muttered. “Do you want to stay and watch, sweetheart?”
You thought for a moment, then shook your head.
“I got one of his men, I’ll be by the fire exit,” you murmured. “Come there when you’re done?”
“Sure thing.”
“What’s going on?” Clifford asked and you turned to shoot him a glare before pecking Bucky on the cheek.
“Have fun!”
“I will,” Bucky said and motioned at one of the bodyguards. “Paul, escort my wife to where she’s going.”
“Yes Mr. Barnes.”
“And Hannah,” Bucky’s voice was completely calm. “Lock the room down.”
“Mr. Barnes, please—” Clifford’s voice was cut off when the door shut behind you and Bucky’s bodyguards started dragging Clifford’s men away while you turned to Paul with a sigh.
“How fucking rude, right?”
“Ma’am?”
“I mean honestly…” you muttered while you walked to the fire exit with Paul following you. “Sending an amateur to kill him? People today have no manners.”
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#mob!bucky barnes#mob!bucky#mob!bucky x reader#mob! bucky#mafia!bucky barnes x reader#mafia!bucky barnes#mafia!bucky#mafia bucky barnes#mafia bucky x reader#mob bucky barnes x reader#mob bucky barnes#mob bucky x reader#mob bucky#mob boss!bucky#mob boss bucky barnes#mob au#mob!au#bucky barnes x you
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Am i delulu or does raphael admire tav/durge? I know its him performing, but as gale says "inviting to dine with devil is devils equivilant of serenade and roses" and first scene where we meet him he does eye tav/durge througly from bottom to top. Also he says "im fan of your work" to durge. So idk?? It lowey feels like raphael is fond of us in game but i need proof/ professional analysis. [Ahem you are the professional mouse afterall heehee~]
He Loves Us, He Loves Us Not: What is Raphael’s Relationship with Tav/Durge?
*Puts on my little mouse glasses* I’m glad you asked. I’m summing up a few points that I have also written about in another analysis called ‘Raphael and weaponized mortality’, so if that sounds interesting, you can find it in my reading list.
Everything about Raphael screams wolf in sheep’s clothing (or a cambion in man’s clothing if you will). Here are a few points illustrating this:
Cambions naturally have a really predatory kind of stench to them because they are entirely carnivorous. Yet, he is described as a perfumed trickster who smells of cherries and sulphur, most likely because he is trying to cover up that smell.
Poetry, an art that is very dependent on nasty mortal concepts such as ‘feelings’, is something we know he uses a lot. He’s not really good at it and he even says it’s not his ‘main interest’ to Karlach in the second act. His theatrical nature and use of poetry humanizes him, and I think he is well-aware of this.
When you call him out as a devil in front of Mol, he says something about how she wouldn’t believe them anyway, ‘not with his angelic complexion’. We also know that Gortash’s parents sold him to a ‘warlock’ and that’s how he ended up with Raphael. I’ve seen multiple places that that warlock is supposed to be Raphael himself.
Now this all makes me believe that he usually does not reveal his true nature to his clients unless: 1) they’ve already signed, or 2) they are so utterly fucked that they have already reached the point of no return with him and are forced to take his deal no matter what.
Yet, he reveals his true nature to us from the get-go. Yes, one could argue that the tadpole-gang does fulfill option 2) according to him and that’s why he does it, but I think it could also be something else. I think he knows from early on that we are his best bet, so he chooses to lay out all his cards on the table and tries to build as much trust as he can from the beginning.
This is also the function of helping us with Astarion’s scars. Dealing with a devil when you’ve never dealt with one before? Scary. Dealing with a devil when he has proven once before to keep his word? Much less scary. He’s ‘grooming’ us for trusting him to keep his word with THE deal (and he gets to fuck over Daddy Meph by potentially robbing him of a lot of souls. Win-win.)
I think Gale is right on the money when he says that it’s ‘a devil’s equivalent to serenades and roses’. Raphael is like a bird or something. He’s showing off, charming us, but also reminding us that he is big and scary. Although despite the fact that he is big and scary ‘he simply wants to help us’.
He’s done his research and already knows everything about us, so he knows exactly how to play us. This is demonstrated in the comment to Durge in the beginning and the thing he says in Last Light if you tell him he knows nothing about you: “Don’t I indeed?.
I really think that we turn into an obsession for him at some point and that the lines between the obsession about the Crown and his obsession about us blurs. This seems definitely to be the case in his journals. I mean the poor guy has nightmares about us…
I also am so sure that he is not even trying to trick us into anything with the Orphic Hammer. He truly does believe that the Emperor is a threat to us. See this:
I DO think he admires us or at the very least is heavily rooting for us. I don’t remember the exact quotes, but Korrilla tells us in Sharess’s that her and Raphael made a bet about if we would make it to the Gate, and Raphael won that bet because we had. He really believes in our merry little band of idiots.
His reaction if we betray him is also very telling I feel like. Notice how his eyes widen for a moment before they narrow and say the ‘You’ line. He seems surprised. In that whole sequence he is obviously pissed, but most of all I also just get the feeling of a man that has been humiliated and who is angry that he had put so much time, work, and trust into us.
He says that ‘he is fond of us, in his way’ and that I completely believe. It might not be out of love or affection or anything like that, but he is as fond of us as a cambion can be of someone. We’ve grown on him, and he sees potential and use in us. We fascinate him and I’d even go as far to say that he respects us. I feel like even if you give him the Crown of Karsus and he gets to rule the Hells, he will not forget the people who brought him there. He would not flaunt the fact that he had mortals help him get the Crown, but I think that when he goes on his spree to fuck up the realms outside the Hells, Tav and gang would at the very least be spared or even given privileges in that new world order. Is that a bit fucked up? Yeah…But we have to remember what he is: a devil.
(Thank you so much for the ask <3 That became a long answer. I love to yap lol)
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Inspiration Saturday/ Several Sentence Sunday
I started a new wip. No one look at me.
The inspiration from this shamelessly comes the fact that I've been working in labour and delivery for the whole month of May and there's an obstetrician/pediatrician couple here that always see each other in the OR and I instantly thought of Buddie. So please enjoy the first (long) snippet of Doctors AU, featuring Obstetrician!Eddie and Pediatrician!Buck. The rest of the 118 will also feature in the obstetrics/pediatrics field, although roles are yet to be confirmed. I'm not 100% sure about this and a little nervous about sharing it cause sharing words has felt weird lately, so I'm sorry if it's not great!
Tagged for Inspiration Saturday by @inell @hippolotamus (eventually smh) @cal-daisies-and-briars @dangerpronebuddie and @daffi-990 (I will be getting to all your snippets so soon!) Snippet under the cut to save your dash.
Eddie pushes through the doors of the NICU, his chest heaving. He doesn’t do this; he doesn’t let patients get to him. He’s a professional. He performs a surgery, delivers a baby, stitches up the mother and moves on to the next one.
Except today, he can’t.
Eddie strides down the corridor until he’s in the nurses’ station and begins to scour the brightly lit electronic board with all the patient’s names.
He can’t shake the feeling that he’s fucked up, that he should have called it sooner and rushed the mother to surgery the second he’d been asked to see her. She’d been labouring for hours, and she was tiring when they called him in to review her. One look at the monitor by her bed had told him all he’d needed to know – that her and her baby were in distress, and something needed to be done.
But, she’d clutched his hand and begged him to let her try just a bit longer.
Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and takes a shaky breath as he tries to rid his mind of the memory of hearing the baby’s heart rate drop on the monitor. Even after being an obstetrician for 10 years, nothing will ever prepare him for the gut-wrenching fear that comes during an emergency. The way you hold your breath and will it to increase, counting in your head as you wonder how much longer you let it go before you dive for the emergency button. He’d done an examination when it was clear the heart rate wasn’t going to recover, to see if there was any chance she could push the baby out, and his heart had sunk into his shoes when he’d felt the umbilical cord before he was even up to his second knuckle.
Taking some deep breaths through his nose, Eddie opens his eyes and scans the board, trying to find the name. It’s possible it’ll be too early – the nurses might not have admitted the baby on the system yet, but the pit in his stomach grows with each passing second that he doesn’t find it.
There’s a noise behind him – someone clearing their throat – and Eddie spins around as a deep, calming voice speaks.
“Hey man, can I help you with something?”
Eddie is instantly taken aback by the man in front of him. He must be new, because Eddie’s certain he’d remember if he’d seen this guy in the OR, and he’s looking at Eddie with concern, his eyebrows furrowed and blue eyes piercing into Eddie’s. He’s tall and muscular – obscenely so for (Eddie assumes) a pediatrician, with dark blond hair that’s been plastered with a criminal amount of hair product. He’s in a pair of delicate pink scrubs, with a white lab coat over the front. There’s a small, rainbow watch hanging from the breast pocket of his coat, and a name badge on his chest, with two tiny feet drawn just beside his name.
Evan Buckley.
“Hey, I’m Dr. Diaz – uh – Eddie,” Eddie says, awkwardly extending a hand towards the man. His grip is firm but warm, and his hands are soft, although Eddie’s not sure exactly why he’s noticing that.
“Dr. Buckley,” the guy replies with a friendly smile that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Everyone calls me Buck. You looking for someone in particular?”
Eddie turns back to the board with a frown, folding his arms, and Buck sidles up next to him, mirroring his stance. Their shoulders brush, and Eddie notices how the guy is just a couple of inches taller than him. Interesting.
“Yeah I’m – uh – I’m looking for baby McKinnon? Born about an hour ago via emergency caesarean due to cord prolapse and obstructed labour, resuscitated immediately after birth and bought here.”
Buck frowns and pulls out a list from the pocket of his scrubs.
“Is everything okay with the mother?” he asks as he scans his list, “You’re an obstetrician, right?”
“Yeah, she’s fine, pulled through surgery and is in recovery now. Just wanted to check up on the baby – he looked pretty rough.”
Buck lets out a deep sigh next to him and Eddie whips his head around, doing a double take when he sees Buck’s expression.
God, no, please no, let him be okay, let him have survived, he’s just mixed up with someone else.
“I’m sorry, man,” Buck says gently, resting a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “We couldn’t stabilise him. He was so hypoxic and they couldn’t intubate him and we – I’m sorry.”
Eddie must make a noise because the hand on his shoulder tightens. His chest feels tight, like he’s not getting enough air, the world is beginning to spin. He take deep, gulping breaths of air as he tries to regulate himself, but it’s not use.
It’s too close. Too much like Christopher. His son, his perfect, 7-year-old boy, looked just like that kid when he was born. Eddie’s too close to this. He’s gotta get out.
“Hey, are you okay?”
Eddie shakes himself from Buck’s grip, blinking furiously as tears threaten to spill down his cheeks.
“I’m sorry, I’ve gotta – I need to go,” he says hurriedly, his voice cracking, and he turns on his heel. He doesn’t run from the room, but it’s a close one. He barely even registers Dr. Buckley calling after him as he briskly walks down the corridor, practically throwing his swipe pass at the door, and then he’s in the stairwell before he knows it, drinking in the crisp, cool air as he slides down the wall and comes to a rest on a step.
Fuck.
No pressure tagging @theotherbuckley @watchyourbuck @bidisasterevankinard @neverevan @babybibuck
@aroeddiediaz @spotsandsocks @bibuckbuckgoose @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg
@jesuisici33 @wikiangela @loveyouanyway @exhuastedpigeon @houseofevanbuckley
@epicbuddieficrecs @kitteneddiediaz @hermscat @worriedbisexual @thekristen999
@slightlyobsessedwitheverything @actuallyitsellie @idealuk @simpingforhotfictionalcharacters @loserdiaz
@elvensorceress @underwaterninja13 @rainbow-nerdss @smilingbuckley @steadfastsaturnsrings
@spagheddiediaz @thewolvesof1998 @fortheloveofbuddie
#james writes#yeah yeah i know#I really need to focus on my actual wips#but I wrote 1k of this in one dump so who knows#buddie wip#buddie#911 abc#eddie diaz#evan buckley#911 buddie#911#911verse#911 fanfic#eddie x buck#eventual buddie
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Vamping
pairing: sammy (abigail 2024) x reader
warnings: vamp!sammy, mommy kink, fingering, biting, light verbal humilation, fluff, angst, dark ending (sequel?), abigail is not mind controlling sammy, nonconsenual vampire turning (sammy to reader)
summary: frank tells you to go with your girlfriend to try to find abigail. unfortunately, things don’t go as planned.
request: Vamp!sammy request incoming bc she deserved more time 😭 Could you do a thing where reader is with Sammy when she turns instead of Peter? 🙏😎 🧛 or something with reader comforting her after she changes?
gif credit | edited by my lovely girlfriend @specialinterestshows 🥰💜
“Joey, Peter, and I will go together,” Frank said, “You and Sammy will go together. Call on the radio if there’s something wrong.”
“Yeah, we’ll call,” you nodded.
As the others left the room, you and Sammy stayed behind. You frowned as soon as you noticed your girlfriend’s eyes were glued to the ground.
“Are you okay?” you asked, moving closer to Sammy.
“If I turn,” Sammy sighed, “You’re going to kill me.”
When she finally looked up, you noticed that her eyes were red and you knew she had been crying. You shook your head. “I wouldn’t,” you reassured her, but she walked away.
“No, you’re going to have to,” she began, “I don’t ever want to hurt you and if I turn, I just might.”
Despite her moving away from you, you moved closer to her. Although you were a little terrified, deep down you loved Sammy, no matter what. You were going to make sure she always knew it.
“You wouldn’t, I know that for a fact. I also know that you know that, too,” you stated.
“You don’t know that, because I don’t even know. Okay?” Sammy snapped.
“No, you’re right. I don’t know that. But I trust you. So fucking much,” you admitted, causing Sammy to smile.
“I love you,” Sammy sighed.
You could tell she was a lot more relaxed now that you reassured her.
“To the moon and back,” you replied. Walking up to Sammy, you pulled her into a hug. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. “Okay, let’s go before Franks gets on our asses.”
Pulling away, Sammy took your hand and led you out of the library. The two of you made your way down a random hallway, occasionally looking behind your backs. Finally, Sammy led you into a random room, shutting the door behind her. The windows were all boarded up and she was thankful as her head began to hurt. The room began to spin, and she fell to her knees with a little shout. Her vision was blurry as her jaw began to hurt.
“Sammy… Sammy?” you called out as you rushed over to her.
Putting your hand on her back, you tried your best to comfort her. To your surprise, Sammy shoved your hand away. “You need to leave, (Your Name). Now,” she said through gritted teeth.
You stood your ground, rising to your feet, “I’m not leaving, Sammy. I love you.”
Sammy finally looked up, her now razor sharp teeth on display - you couldn’t help the sound that escaped you. She smiled, standing up off the ground.
“What is it, baby?” she teased, licking her lips. “Do I scare you now?”
You shook your head, “N-No, I’m not scared of you.”
Sammy’s smile grew into a smirk, “Oh, I know what it is…” she trailed off, tapping her chin as she looked up at the ceiling as if she was deep in thought.
You swallowed, “Y- You do?”
“I can smell that you’re wet for me,” Sammy stated, “Or is it for Joey?”
You bit your lip, knowing that Sammy already knew the answer to her question. You backed up, and she began to follow you.
“I feel fucking fantastic! But there’s just one thing that I could really, really go for right now,” Sammy said as your back hit the wall. “Do you know what that one thing is?”
You shook your head, even though you knew what she wanted. She tucked her head in the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath, inhaling your scent. “You smell so fucking delicious. I’m going to fuck you, but I want to hear you say that you want Mommy to take you right here and now.”
She licked your neck, pulling away to watch your face. You had always been a bit shy, but now? The words were refusing to come out at all. Sammy could kill you instantly, but she wasn’t and that’s what was turning you on even more.
“Come on, little bunny. You can use your words,” she pushed, rubbing you through your pants. “Or does the cat have your tongue?”
“Please, Mommy,” you finally gave in, “I want it so bad. I need you.”
Sammy was satisfied with your begging for the time being. She undid your belt, pulling it out of the loops and throwing it to the floor. She pulled your pants down with no hesitation.
“I wish I had some of my stuff with me, but it’s all good,” she commented, sighing playfully.
She pulled your underwear to the side, sliding a single finger into you. She didn’t want to waste any time. You let out a cry, not expecting her to do that right away.
“Please,“ you moaned out as she fucked you with her finger.
“Please what?” Sammy questioned, quickening her pace.
“Fuck, fuck,” you whimpered.
You whimpered as Sammy stilled her finger. She raised an eyebrow, patiently waiting for you to answer her. Finally, she pulled her finger out as she grew impatient.
“I knew you get fucking stupid when your pussy gets all wet,” Sammy laughed, pulling your shirt off of you.
Sammy roughly pulled your bra down, licking her lips. “Are you going to answer my question? Or am I going to have to leave you hanging?”
“Please, Mommy,” you began, “Please, I need more than just one of your fingers.”
Sammy hummed, sliding in two fingers, pumping them inside of you. You squeezed your eyes shut, fighting the sounds that were threatening to leave your throat. The last thing you needed was for the others to walk in, knowing they would kill Sammy in a heartbeat.
Your thoughts left your head as Sammy dragged her teeth against the skin above your nipple. You gasped, “Sammy!” which made her laugh.
“What?” she questioned playfully.
Sammy didn’t waste any time, leaning down and wrapping her lips around your nipple, she added a third finger. You jumped as the radio beeped.
“Sammy?… (Your Name)?… Are you guys okay?”
It was Joey.
Of course it was.
Sammy bit your nipple as softly as she could with her newly sharpened teeth before pulling her mouth away with a sigh. She stood up straight and smiled, her fingers still deep inside of you. Just as she was about to speak up, the radio beeped again.
“(Your Name)? Sammy? We’re going to come looking for you if you don’t respond in a minute,” Joey threatened.
Sammy continued to fuck her fingers in and out of you. “You better answer her, baby. Wouldn’t want them to see you getting fucked… or maybe you do?”
You shook your head as Sammy removed the radio from her belt. “Talk,” she ordered before clicking the button on the radio.
“S- Sorry, we- we’re okay!” you choked out as Sammy curled her fingers.
“Are you sure? It doesn’t sound like you’re okay,” Joey said skeptically.
You squeezed your eyes shut. “Yeah, we’re, yes!” you cried out as Sammy rubbed your clit with her thumb.
“Uh… okay? Have you seen the girl?” Joey asked.
You took a deep breath, giving Sammy a warning look as she moved down to her knees. Sammy raised an eyebrow, signaling for you to keep talking.
“Oh,” you moaned as Sammy wrapped her lips around your clit.
“No, you haven’t seen her or?” Frank repeated, sounding annoyed.
“No we haven’t!” you cried out. “ We’ll call if we do!”
With that, you dropped the radio, grabbing Sammy’s hair to keep her in place. The feeling of her fingers mixed with her mouth became too much. You came quietly as Sammy helped you through your orgasm.
“Fuck,” Sammy chuckled as she pulled her fingers out of you, “You’re so fucking pretty when you come. Each and every time. I never get sick of it.”
You tried to move away from the wall and Sammy, but she kept you in place.
“Where do you think you’re going, pretty baby? I’m not done with you just yet,” Sammy hummed, standing up off the ground.
Pushing herself against you, she covered your mouth. She pushed your head to the side, and without hesitation, she bit into your neck. You screamed into her hand, tears running down your cheeks while you struggled against her.
After a minute, Sammy pulled away. Licking her lips to clean off your blood, she smiled. “Now you’re mine forever, baby.”
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Greetings,could i request Lucy Maclean x Male reader?,Thanks
Funny enough I was gonna do a short series on it anyway. Cause God Damn Ella Purcell takes the cake in beauty. So here’s—
The Wasteland Love Guide #1
Part 1: The Couriers Eye
Love, Betrayal, and tale as old as time.
Dim lit, you awoke in the rank scent of a sewer. The cold concrete against your back you felt a beating pain in your face. You sat up, the beating pain was too much to bear and you felt your face, and you felt, something in your.. eye. “Fuck..” you mumbled, pushing yourself up you looked around, it was too dim to make out anything specific, adding blindness only made it worse.
You literally had to shake off the potential concussion and walked along the concrete wall to a large exit, stumbling out you felt sand in your palms and and fingernails. Stumbling out into the sandy beach you looked around for any form of help. It was nearly endless sand, besides a few rundown houses. You walk your way towards it, trying to remember the last day of your life to recall what Happened, but nothing came to mind. Pushing a door open into a rundown place you spotted a furnace. Somehow the water was running.
You cleaned up your face and painfully washed the blood off your face. Breaking up old floorboards and wood you tossed it into the furnace to start a fire. Giving you minimal light you checked your body for any open wounds or cuts. None you can see thankfully. Sitting down near the fire you calm yourself and relax, and try to sleep off the pain. Nightmares echo and scream in your head, and in the last moments of your nightmare, you could remember one face.
Moldaver.
Your eyes open to a face, of a woman trying to see if you were still alive, panic kicks in and you push her away and reached for a weapon, a baseball bat. You cocked back and gripped the handle ready to swing, before you could, the barrel of a syringe gun was right at your neck. You had no idea just what it could have and taking the risk of acid or drugs shot into you would be bad. The moment was silent, only the cracking fire illuminating both of you. You clenched the bats grip hard, and you spoke sternly.
“I don’t have anything you want… why are you here?” You asked.
“I just wanted to see if you were alive. You, don’t look so good.” She responded, you noticed what she was wearing, a vault suit. It’s a dumb question but it was the only question you could muster. “You a vault dweller?” You said in disbelief, she dusts herself off, and actually stood up to shake your hand.
“Yes! I’m Lucy.” She smiled, you still in disbelief and probably losing blood, slowly put the bat down and shook her hand. “Are you here alone? I just need help looking for my Father.”
“Why are you.. telling me all this? I can’t even think straight.” You sit back down, holding your head.
“It’s probably hard to think straight with metal in your eye.” She said, and knelt down in front of you.
“You seem a bit, hurt.. but you also know your way around the place. I can help you with your eye if you can help me.” Lucy offered a deal you probably don’t have the luxury to deny. “Fine..” you relented. “How bad is it?” You asked her, Lucy leaned in to look at your eye, you saw her made a face that you didn’t particularly like.
“What?” You said.
“Damage mostly to the eye itself, your cornea is probably intact!” She said with hope for whatever reason, “thanks? Can you just take the metal out?” You replied. Lucy nods and begins to unravel her pack of shit she had. Small tweezers and bandage gauze. What proceeded was pain beyond belief as you tried to keep your eye open as Lucy, as gently as possible pulled shrapnel from it.
“MOTHER OF—“ you catch yourself before you can scream and bite your tongue.
“Sorry! Medical wasn’t my best, mine are nothing compared to my dad.” She drones on, and as the pain slowly began to subside you were interested. “You know… I always thought Vault dwellers were nutjubs for running into a hole in the ground but, fuck maybe I was wrong.” You admit, Lucy finishes your operation and patches your eye with gauze. “Our Mission is to repopulate the United States of course, it’s what we’re all supposed to do, to be a part of a better tomorrow.” Lucy said it as if it’s some slogan.
“Right..” you shrugged. And put the eyepatch on, but it’s just makeshift string with a patch of cloth. “I gotta ask you… besides wanting to find your dad, why help me? People don’t do this in the wasteland.”
“Well because it’s the Golden Rule.” She smiles, which made you, somehow happy. You smiled, but gave her a bit of brutal honesty. “You seem like a nice lady.”
“Why thank you—“
“So you’ll die a very horrible death.” You add in, and she tries to stay positive but looks a bit stunned by it. “Being a good person is gonna get you killed. The Wasteland doesn’t abide by the “Golden Rule” you aren’t gonna survive out there.” You warned her, but that dumbfounded look on her face.
“I really appreciate your concern for me, but I can’t.. a group of raiders went to our vault and, did a lot of bad things, I have to get my dad back.”
“A group of raiders… to our vault.. bad things.” You quickly came to the realization of just what happened. It seems That she went with the plan. You saw the hopeful look in Lucy’s eyes and, it made you feel hope in a world full of such evil. Were you, falling in love? Or is this her Lady Killer perk activating. You smiled, and hit your Idiot Savant perk and nodded.
“I’d be a real bastard if I just let you deal with all of this alone. Mind if I tag along?” You said, Lucy happily obliges.
“Of course! The more the merrier as they say!” Lucy turns and walks off, you shake your head and smile, following her.
“She’s gonna get herself killed.”
#male reader#fallout#fallout x reader#lucy maclean x male reader#lucy maclean#wasteland#Ornii#x male reader#fallout tv series#fallout tv show#male reader insert#Lucy Maclean x reader
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for the sprint challenge, trying to pick some fun random words! how about any of peanut, saxophone, kitty cat, or doorknob.
Oh these are creative ones! Thank you!
I didn't have peanut so I did a sprint with false confidence and added 232 words with it:
“Should’ve never shown the team that video,” Roy said.
“You're right. But that’s my fault too.”
Roy raised an eyebrow at him, “how the fuck do you see that?”
“I was stuck in my head that week. More stuck than that time my hand got stuck in the peanut butter jar. You ever got your hand stuck in one of those? It’s all sticky so you think you’d get unstuck but then you’re just stuck stuck. Shoot, I’ve said stuck too much now, you ever done that? Said a word too much now it lost all its meaning? Stuuuuuuuuuck. Stu-”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Ted. Get it together before I stick my head through a fucking wall.”
saxophone I also did not have, so I sprinted with Dear Leslie and added it (and wrote 378 new words):
“Okay, well let me use a different example then. Did you know before I played the bass I played saxophone?” Higgins asked.
“No, I wish I could play a saxophone. Or bass. Or anything really,” Keeley said.
“Turns out I could not play saxophone either. I was bad. Tremendously bad. But I played until my saxophone was run over by a car.”
“Shit, Higgins, did you leave it in the drive, or it fell off a bus or something?”
“No, my father threw it into the street and repeatedly ran it over with his car.”
(kitty) cat from that star in the sky who watches over you:
“You’re a 20-year-old professional footballer, so why do you look like someone kicked your cat?”
“I don’t,” Jamie tries to defend, looking away from her.
Georgie gently grabs his face and forces him to look at her. She’s struck by how old he looks suddenly. Twenty years old and carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. She stares into his eyes, and that’s when she notices. Georgie can’t believe she didn’t notice it before, see it clearly, but she’d been caught up in the day.
“Jamie, why are you wearing concealer?”
“What?” he says, pulling his face from her hand and taking a step back. “I’m not. That’s for fucking women.”
“Women and people who are trying to hide bruises,” Georgie said, and she reached for her son again.
This fic is one I need to dive into edit mode with so it's not really sprintable. But I did sprint an AU I’m working on and added 148 words, here is a small snippet from the chapter I added to.
“Another problem,” Higgins said, grimacing. “We can cover these new additions for now but–”
“But we’re going to run out of money for next season.”
“Exactly. We haven’t been selling out even half of the tickets. Half the marketing department left with Rupert or should have never been hired to begin with.”
“So we need a new marketing agency,” Rebecca smiled. “Let me take care of that.”
I did have doorknob in old habits die screaming:
“Jamie, open the door,” Willis tried again.
He started picking up various rocks and potted plants, searching for a hidden key but couldn’t find one, even tried the doorknob in case Jamie hadn’t locked the door.
“Just go, Coach, please.”
The pleading tone made it clear how desperate he was for Beard to leave, but it only increased Beard’s need to get inside, or to at least lay eyes on Jamie and see for himself he was okay.
“Jamie, I’m not leaving until you open the door.”
And I added 355 words via sprint!
Beard sighed to himself. It was interesting now being in London, coaching without Ted. He had been an extension of Ted for so long, he hadn’t bothered making his own relationships with the team. Maybe he should have. Maybe he wouldn’t be sitting at Jamie’s bedside right now.
Ted always said be curious not judgemental. That was them, Ted was curious, Beard was judgemental. Ted had his own tragedy in his life, but Beard hadn’t had the luxury of being curious, so he was judgemental. It helped save his life in prison.
You can’t be curious in prison.
But he wasn’t in prison any longer.
#fic: false confidence#fic: dear Leslie#fic: old habits die screaming#au tag#ted lasso#fic: that star in the sky who watches over you#leslie higgins#keeley jones#rebecca welton#jamie tartt#roy kent#georgie#coach beard#keeley jones gets to be a competent business woman agenda
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grandma gets to tell me how she wants to die and she’s sad and she’s so full of trauma every fucking day on our scheduled phone call and i’m supposed to be like okay :) it’s fine :) i will go on as if nothing happened because life’s great for me woohoo!!! :) about it but the One Time i express any kind of not positive emotion in front of her she’s gotta make it a whole thing about how much it hurt HER and act like i’ve ruined her entire life and i’m just so so mean and awful for daring to show her anything but happiness on my face
#i love her and i know she can do better#the problem is she doesn’t#like fam I ME MYSELF was the one in pain#(which was your fault because lol you are misgendering me 24/7 girl i asked nicely)#you don’t get to take my little victim hat off my head and wear it like it’s a fun costume#like oh you’re feeling bad ? well i’m feeling WORSE pity me pity me i’m the real poor meow meow here#screw all the pain i’ve caused you i’ll just guilt trip you into forgiving me because wah weh#i’m all alone i have nobody everyone hates me my life is horrible i had a rough past#I GET IT I AM NOT DENYING THAT THIS WOMAN IS IN PAIN#AND HAS BEEN FOR A WAY TOO LONG TIME#BUT ME EXPRESSING -MY- PAIN IS NOT AN INVITATION FOR HER TO FLAUNT HERS#I’M GONNA ACT LIKE EVERYTHING’S FINE#AND IF SHE WANTS TO FEEL SORRY FOR HERSELF THAT IS HER PROBLEM NOT MINE !!!!!#YEARS. SHE SPENT YEARS SAYING SHE WISHED MY DEPRESSION WOULD END AND OH#HOW SHE WOULD BE READY TO DO ANYTHING TO HELP ME HOW SHE WOULD GO TO OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD FOR MY SAKE#I ASK HER ONE FUCKING THING THAT CAN WILL AND DOES HELP ME FEEL BETTER#DO NOT CALL ME BY MY DEADNAME DO NOT CALL ME SHE OR HER#MAKE THAT TINY CHANGE IN YOUR VOCABULARY. THAT IS IT.#SHE’S NOT FUCKING DOING IT. I’M NOT ASKING FOR MUCH HERE. SHE’S NOT TRYING.#SO IF SHE ISN’T THEN WHY SHOULD I#I AM DONE WITH THIS I WAS DONE WITH THIS WITH ALWAYS MAKING MYSELF LITTLE#ALWAYS PUTTING OTHERS BEFORE ME ALWAYS ACTING LIKE I WAS FINE SO AS TO NOT INCONVENIENCE#THIS IS OVER ! THIS IS NOT WHO I AM ANYMORE ! I DESERVE MY PLACE AND I WILL TAKE IT.#YOU FEEL BAD ? THEN FEEL BAD. YOU SHOULD. YOU SHOULD FEEL BAD ABOUT MAKING ME FEEL BAD.#THE COURSE OF ACTION TO TAKE ISN’T TO CONTINUE WALLOWING IN DESPAIR. IT’S TO STOP MAKING ME AND CONSEQUENTLY YOURSELF FEEL BAD.#MY NAME IS DAN I’M YOUR GRANDSON GET THE FUCK OVER IT I’M NOT FUCKING DEAD
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.
#ok so mini rant session#i am doing a bit better today - little less distraught over getting fired from a job i thought i was doing pretty good at and i was trying#really hard and genuinely enjoying#and just more baffled because truly i had no warning and i was completely blindsided#i was in the middle of a 3 month trial and i would have a review at the end in which i would be offered a permanent position if it went well#and i thought i was making my way towards that! granted i was still making mistakes but genuinely not of such a great scale i thought it#called for my immediate dismissal#that being said i was still VERY MUCH IN TRAINING. i had only been there A MONTH AND A HALF learning COMPLETELY NEW SYSTEMS#and i was told that i had been there a few weeks already and that i wasn’t catching on quick enough. that there were some areas i was#understanding and others i just simply wasn’t#and i asked what areas specifically so that i could learn more and try harder#and they didn’t give me a specific answer.#ok and so. so. i have this insecurity.#that at first impression people will like me. that they may think i’m pretty or kind or funny or whatever#but then they spend time with me or get to know me and realize that that’s all bullshit.#that i’m actually not pretty and im mean and loud and selfish and lazy and rude and etc etc etc#MASSIVE fucking insecurity in that like that’s why i genuinely don’t have friends or a significant other#and that genuinely i’m just a Bad Person#and when i was fired? i was told ‘a persons true colours show after a few weeks’#so that’s MAJORLY fucking me up.#when i was hired i was boasted to about my boss’s hiring process and how she’s ’only been fooled twice’#and the morning before i was fired in a meeting my supervisor told everyone that i was doing quite well.#so yeah i truly had no fucking warning. at fucking all.#hurt and confused and angry and baffled and did i mention hurt#anyways if you’re still here i’m sorry i know this is not a good look for me
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you ever just see a post and just
. 😭
.⬅️🫀⬅️
#Worst emoji combo ever but it’s gon be such big depression hours down here so scroll if you want im on the brink of throwing up#don’t you just bloody love it how over the past 3 years you’ve only seen people the large total of…. 4 times!!! An average of seeing someon#outside of school 1.3 times per year!! What a bloody fantastic way to spend your teenage years!#Don’t you also just love it when people talk right to you about how they all went out together over the weekend and like did some stupid#shit like your average high schooler would do and you’re just like “oh. I went to my 1 and a half hour long dance class and got ignored the#entire time and when you did try to talk they just spoke over you” oh my fucking god I hate that place so much even the teacher fucking#ignores me once we were going in a circle and she was asking everyone what they got for Christmas and I was in the middle of the circle so#thought hey maybe someone will actually acknowledge my existence but she fucking ignored me and went to next person like why the fuck#And now I’m debating staying in that shithole bc I was invited to a gc for that class and I stupidly thought that someone might want me#There. I wasn’t even invited I secretly scanned the qr code to join over someone else’s shoulder#everyone else there is the best of bloody friends and I’m just there talking to one friend who I don’t even think is my friend#“Hey man I’m really fucking sad rn can I talk to you” “womp womp have you heard stupid fact no.3848594 about my ocs while I ignore you when#you talk about anything else about me” oh my god shut up literally no one else sane would see someone like that their closest friend rn#At least someone wants to talk to me#Like what is it that makes people not want to see my please just tell me I’ll change I’m amazing at changing my personality to fit others#promise me on that I’ve done it my entire life#Even just messaging me more than once every year and I’d consider you my best friend this is how bad I’m getting#What is so bloody bad about me that no one else likes I don’t care how badly you fucking word it just something#It shouldn’t be normal to wish death on people you call your mates bc you heard about them all going out together without you#Oh dear did the gc’s without me in it there’s one for every friend group I’ve ever been in why isn’t there one for the main group I’m in rn#Idfc anymore just tell me what I’m doing wrong I keep asking people if they want to go out or how far away they live from some place#And it’s always met with ignoring me talking over me or immediately changing the subject#Please if you’re someone I know irl what the fuck am I doing fucking wrong I can’t fucking do this anymore be as mean as you like#Why the fuck does no one ever want to be around me why do I hear so much about stuff others are doing together but never me#It shouldn’t be normal to prefer being in a toxic relationship than what I’m in rn#I fucking hate everything
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crying again lol ok
#purrs#and posting online abt it so i get immediate validation / support instead of asking for help from anyone im close to i know. but god fucking#damn it to hell. ok im going to be candid about this because it hurts so fucking bad. five years ago i met someone so important to me. and I#miss her so so so so much. and every space here i have a memory with her in. and she left in July and she’s gone. and im sobbing my eyes out#FOR WHY because it was over 6 months ago and im happier and she’s happier and we’re all happier. but i think im getting some aftershocks#being here for the first time without her exactly 5 years to the week we met: when she was so important to me. she was the whole reason i#even saw myself as something. and she’s fucking gone. she left. but she’s not dead like LMAO idk why im crying so hard when i could just#text her any time and tell her that i miss her. but idk. it’s just everything is stirring memories and they’re painful to think about now or#at least today because she’s gone and it all changed. i was just saying that i feel like im not having any emotions and tonight the grief ju#just rammed into me like a train and my fucking counselor sucks ass and won’t even help me work through it and everyone is busy and tired an#and im a staff coach so im not supposed to be having a fuckjng mental breakdown over **** pacing around in my bathroom at 1:23am but ive be#been thinking about her so much and remembering all the formative interactions i had with her here and missing her so much i want to explode#and die and p*ke and whatever. so stupid to cry about it but i fucking miss her. and i hate that she’s not here. and i’m trying so hard to b#be her but i have to be me but i can’t not have what she brought here and im just crashi ng and burning and can’t be honest and im having a#breakdown and crying so hard and i don’t know what to do. i ithink i’ll be fine after some sleep and reflection but my heart is like seizing#on itself right now and nothing takes my mind off it and i just keep crying LMFAOOOOOO. i hate it here#delete later#like how can you look at me like that and then fuck off to ****** 4.5 years later. you know? im about to punch a hole into the hallway#and i have to be quiet bc ppl are trying to sleep but it’s making me fucking crazy.#retreat tag
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God I loved that in my neighborhood back where my lease is that the grass gets mowed at like 5pm or a bit later
Fuck ye outside my window I’m trying to go back to sleep
#dsps#dspd#dswpd#my mom just screamed at me for taking a sleeping pill to go back to bed#(which is unfortunately not uncommon. esp at my parents house where I can never get good sleep)#especially because my fucking body woke me up after 4 hours of sleep when I am trying to sleep as much as possible like 12+ hours#to fight off the fevers I’ve been intermittently having#and the yeast infection from hell and two different cold sores in 3 weeks despite#I literally paid for a hotel for two nights because I tried valiantly and failed to get any decent sleep at my parents house#even with melatonin and cbd and CBN and sleeping pills literally trying every *safe* combination#and then she accusingly asks me when I went to bed#like I’m not a fucking adult whose on fucking break. like I don’t have both adhd and fucking dsps#she just had joint surgery and I’m sorry I haven’t been able to help her as much#but I wasn’t even supposed to be here now?! I was supposed to fly back a week ago but had to cancel because I got sick#and have been running errands since#and also while sick#which has probably#made me fucking sicker?#like not yesterday but the two days before that I was running around doing errands with a fever. (covid negative)#I didn’t fucking ask to be sick or tomorrow be able to sleep in this house#and she fucking yelled at me that I have to go to bed at midnight#like bitch I don’t have to do anything#and thank you again for making me feel so profoundly misunderstood and unlistened to#and worthless because of my adhd and dsp#I really hope it was the pain from the surgery and her pain meds not having kicked in#because it was out of character#like I hate that this is one of the few times your hearing about her to build a picture about#as if anyone is reading these tags haha I am processing and venting#because she is usually wonderful and lovely#but she was a fucking bitch. she really hurt my feelings
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genuinely, when will it end??? I am so tired of being here and I am not sure how much longer I can push myself to keep going. i’m exhausted.
#it’s 4am and I am feeling the Deep Darkies#I literally passed out at 9pm from mental exhaustion & also bc I wanted to start to get up early to start a morning routine#so I actually got a ton of sleep but the second I woke up I felt like I wanted to cry and now I feel so depressed out of no where#like girl WHYYYY#genuinely I am so debilitatingly depressed I have suicidal thoughts every single day#and I feel like ive tried everything to help myself like ive been to therapy ive been on and off meds for over a decade at this point#im starting to eat better and sleep more#like what the duck else do I do?#I genuinely feel like my brain is broken#I just want to cry and lay in bed every single day#like I cannot articulate the profound sadness into words but it’s. so bad#and it takes literally all my brain power to do one assignment a day for class like none of this is sustainable#and I just feel so much shame over it bc whenever I tell my mom she gets mad like it effects her or something and the few times ive made th#mistake of trying to confide in my dad he gave me the whole pull yourself up by the bootstraps talk so never again lol#my entire family has made me feel so much shame over it and none of my friends here even bother to ask how I feel and don’t make me feel#comfortable enough to talk to bc i’m always the fucking therapist friend helping everyone else#hence why I always vent on here lol I have no one to talk to#I just really don’t know what to do at this point like I feel like I need inpatient therapy at this point but that’s expensive and I don’t#want to tell my job why i’d need extended time off bc that would be so embarrassing and plus now i’m in school#so like what do I do#im tired of feeling like this I know this isn’t how life is supposed to be but it’s also all ive ever known#and what’s the point of living if i’m going to feel like this everyday? I don’t know how much longer I can take it#personal
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