[this is an ongoing list. if you have any links that you believe i should add, or if you believe i should remove any, please message me. Thank you!]
Hi babes. My name is kae, and I write comfort fics. I write about many different triggering topics, (request rules found here .)
I know many of you read fics like these to comfort you through things you are struggling with, but if you are ever in need of immediate, professional help, it is available. Under the cut I have put links to different helplines, as well as articles to help you start a conversation with those closest to you. Please remember to be practicing self care, drinking water, and eating enough. I love you all.
Mental health, Depression, SH, etc.
Mental health helpline directory
International helplines
Where to get help for SH
Depression hotline numbers
Helplines for panic and anxiety
Telling someone about your mental health
Telling someone you’re engaging in SH
Discrimination, Bullying, Racism, etc.
Racial Equity Support Line
Stop Bullying
What is ableism?
-I will be adding more to this in the coming days, (including sa, domestic violence, etc) please send me links you think should be added :)-
*This was initially written with my OC and was edited to be posted as a self insert, if there are any places where I forgot to edit it to “y/n” please inform me so I can fix it! This retelling is based on my OC so I apologize if it’s too specific, as I usually try to make my x reader fics vague enough for everyone to self insert. The reader is female. If it gets requested specifically, I can try and edit one to be GN.*
Reader is Graham’s twin sister and is a member of the band as a writer and vocalist. The story is written with a mix of book style interview scenes and normal scenes. There’s a mix of the book and tv show canons, I really just picked what I wanted from each one. Some parts might honestly not match either canon, I wrote like half of this with no plans on posting it anywhere so I wasn’t paying that much attention. This is Eddie Roundtree x Reader, however it walks through all of the band and the reader’s relationship with everyone, it does not revolve solely around her romantic relationship. This is a multi-chapter fic, I will make a master list with the chapters at some point and include the timeline so if any of you want to skip right to a certain part, you can. ALSO, this first chapter includes a scene that is literally based fully on a different Eddie fic I've read, once I can find it again I will give proper credits !! Anyways, Enjoy !
Chapter 1 - 1k
The Six started out as a blues-rock band called the Dunne Brothers in the mid-sixties out of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Billy, Graham, and Y/n Dunne were raised by single mother, Marlene Dunne, after their father, William Dunne Sr., left in 1954.
Billy Dunne: I was seven when Dad left, Graham and Y/n were five. All he left was an old Silvertone guitar and Graham and I would fight over who got to play it. Playing that thing was about all we did. Nobody taught us, we taught ourselves, and Mom made us teach Y/n. Once I got older, I would hang around after school and mess around with the piano in the chorus room.
Eventually, when I was about fifteen or so, Mom saved up and bought us an old Strat for Christmas. The twins fought over that one, so I left it in their hands. I kept the Silvertone.
Graham Dunne: Once Billy and I each had a guitar, we started writing songs. Me and Y/n shared the Strat technically, but once she got into writing she didn’t play it anymore. When Billy wasn’t home, she would play his Silvertone. She always loved that guitar.
Y/n Dunne: I suppose every little sister steals her brother’s things. I really don’t know why I liked that guitar so much. Billy used to say I just liked having things that weren’t mine. I think I just wanted to be like him back then.
Graham: Billy got really into songwriting. All he would talk about was Bob Dylan. He would come to our room with notebooks filled with lyrics he had written.
Billy: Just like everything else I did, Y/n started doing the same.
Y/n: Just like everything else I did, Billy took the credit.
Graham: I never got in the way of Billy and Y/n, but the older we got, the more they would fight. I never fought with either of them, but me and Billy were brothers and me and Y/n were twins, so I guess there was always more of a connection with me than with each other.
In 1967 they brought on drummer Warren Rojas and bassist Eddie Roundtree.
Warren Rojas: A drummer needs a band. It’s not like a singer or a guitarist, you can’t play by yourself. I lived in the same neighborhood as the Dunne’s and they heard me play from my dad’s garage a few times, so they asked me if I wanted in.
Billy: Warren kind of fell into our laps, he was easy and he was good. I knew we needed a bassist, and the twins knew a guy. I don’t remember why I trusted them.
Y/n: Eddie was a friend of ours from school. Well, technically he was a friend of Graham at school.
Graham: Me and Eddie were close, closer than him and Y/n appeared to be.
Billy: We started practicing as a band, day in and day out. We were always in our garage playing songs over and over again.
Graham: I mean, what else were we gonna do? None of the guys had been dating anyone except Billy, and he never cared about his girlfriends back then, practically had a new one each week.
Billy: At some point Y/n started missing practices to hangout with some guy, I don’t remember his name. I certainly remember when they broke up though.
“You son of a bitch!” Y/n’s yell stopped the boys in their tracks. She had missed a rehearsal again to hangout with her boyfriend, though it didn’t take long for her to come back. She made a beeline for the garage where the boys were practicing. Billy went to reply, assuming she was yelling at him, but before he could say anything Y/n stormed past him, only stopping when she cornered Eddie.
“Who the fuck do you think you are? You wanna go around pretending like you own me?” She rambled. Graham grabbed her and pulled her back, “Calm down! What are you going on about?”
“Eddie threatened my boyfriend! Said if he didn’t leave me alone that my brothers and their friends were gonna do something about it.” She pulled herself out of Graham’s hold after he loosened it. The rest of the group looked at Eddie, mostly in confusion. It was no secret that Eddie liked Y/n, it seemed everyone knew it except Eddie himself. He just had a terrible way of showing it.
“He was a total dickhead, I was doing you a favor.” Eddie spoke, far too casually for Y/n’s liking. “That was my choice to make, not yours! It’s my life Eddie!” She screamed back, tears rimmed her eyes as she bordered a breakdown. Graham gently pulled her aside, helping her inside of the house before he came back out.
“What were you thinking man?” Warren turned to Eddie, “I know you like her but that was so not cool.” Before Eddie could reply, Billy spoke up as well, “I hated the guy too, but even I’ll admit that was idiotic.”
Eddie looked at them, he seemed almost frustrated at their remarks, “I don’t like her, alright? That dude was a douchebag and yall know it. I was helping her out.” The rest of the boys seemed to roll their eyes in sync. “She’s never going to forgive you, you know. She holds grudges like you wouldn’t believe,” Graham said pointedly. Eddie huffed and turned to pick his bass back up, ready to continue practicing. He would never admit it, but a part of him was scared that Graham was right.
TW) eating disordered thoughts and habits! Please don't read this if that will trigger you
AN) well hi! I'm back, for now at least. Please ignore my bad writing, I'm trying to get back into it. Anywho, please enjoy! And remember to nourish your body <3
You don’t want it to go away.
At this point, you think, no, you know it’s become a problem again. You know you are doing it on purpose, but no part of you wants to stop.
Your boyfriend, your lovely spider boyfriend, doesn’t agree, or well, he wouldn’t agree if he even knew it was a problem in the first place, and you’re certain he doesn’t know. Why would he? There are more important things to pay attention to than you and your eating habits, or lack thereof. He had to save the world; all you had to do was be the perfect skinny girlfriend you knew he deserved.
---
It started getting bad again 3 weeks ago when Peter was stuck at home studying for his finals. You didn’t want to bother him, you knew he would come around when he was finished, and he might even call before that, you were one of his usual distractions after all. You were just alone, that was really all it took for the thoughts to find their way to the front of your mind. You didn’t have to listen, really it would be simple to just push them away and eat supper like a normal person, but you are far from normal. Besides, what’s the harm in skipping one meal? It didn’t mean you had a problem, it could just mean you aren’t hungry, except you definitely were hungry, and you definitely have a problem.
So a week went by, and a few more meals were skipped. Nothing to be concerned about, this wasn't like last time. You weren't counting calories, you hadn't weighed yourself, and you were simply eating a bit less, it was a healthy change. Peter didn't notice. If Peter wasn't worried, why should you be? You weren't trying to hide. You simply only ate when he was with you, and skipped when he wouldn't know. That's not hiding it really, you didn't lie about it, it was just keeping it to yourself. Everyone has secrets, secrets are healthy. You didn't have a problem, this wasn't a relapse.
School ended a week later. No school lunch meant no lunch for you at all, unless you were hanging out with Peter. You found your old journal, the one with all of your thoughts and calories. You didn't find it on purpose, it just found its way back to you, so certainly you could use it. The world was telling you to. So you did. You tracked the calories, you skipped meals, and maybe you started walking a bit more, but you were still fine. This still wasn't a problem. Peter still didn't notice. Spidey senses could surely catch a problem, and they hadn't caught you yet.
It wasn't until today did you face up to your uh, small habit change. You didn't face up to it on your own really, you were just being too self-aware for your own good. You had a problem. You definitely had a problem. And Spiderman definitely couldn't know.
Sometimes things are so much easier to hide when you aren't fully aware of it yourself, but once it's the only thing you can think of, it's a little harder to avoid.
You thought about food constantly. Sometimes it made you a bad partner. Sometimes you felt like you thought more about food than you did Peter. Peter thought the same, or, well, not exactly the same.
You two were sitting in his room. He was on the floor, building a new Lego set you had bought for him recently, and you sat up in his bed. Your knees were pulled in, and you were writing in your journal.
Peter noticed your silence and your avoidance. And being the teenage boy that he is, he made assumptions.
"Y/n, are you cheating on me?" He blurted, out of seemingly nowhere.
You were shocked, and a little hurt, "What? No of course not why would you think that?"
"You've been avoiding me. And you've been keeping secrets. Something else is clearly your priority."
That's it. That's the thing that makes your problem feel like an actual problem. Guilt. It all crashed on you at once. That suffocating feeling of shame and regret, the knowledge that you're hurting someone you loved, it was eating at you at a rapid pace. You stayed silent.
"What do you keep writing?"
Your journal, it's still open in your lap. You're quick to close it and hug it tight against you. He can't see it, he absolutely cannot read this book.
"It's nothing, Peter. It's just notes okay? But I'm telling you, I'm not cheating on you. I would never do that."
"Then what are you writing about?" He hated being pushy, but he didn't know what to believe or not.
"It's nothing important I said, it's just a diary. It's not your business." Your words were cold, you knew that, but somehow you couldn't stop them.
Peter looked hurt, he was hurt. You hurt him, that hurt you. You didn't know how to make it stop.
"I'm sorry Peter."
His eyes drifted down and back up. He was fidgeting with his hands.
"Why won't you just tell me what's going on? Why are you hiding from me?"
You knew it wasn't fair. He was always so honest with you. He was honest about his job, which happened to involve being a literal superhero. He was honest about his feelings. He was honest when girls would hit on him. He never kept things from you, he didn't deserve this.
You opened your mouth to say something, some other terrible excuse you could come up with, but Peter interrupted. He stood up and started pacing while he talked.
"You, you've been distant y/n. You never want to hang out, you never want to text or call. You're keeping secrets and lying to me. You don't have the energy to do anything, is it really that surprising that I think you're cheating?" He wasn't wrong, but man it rubbed you the wrong way.
"I'm not cheating on you Peter! I'm sorry if that's so hard to believe." You grabbed your bag and your journal and got up, swaying a little bit from dizziness, but collecting yourself.
"Oh look, off to go see your other boyfriend huh?"
"No, Peter, I'm going home.” You said coldly, attempting to walk past the boy in front of you, but in your dizzy mess the only thing you managed to do was drop your journal.
Dropping it was an accident. It opening to a page with various, unhealthy quotes about being skinny was an accident. Peter reading the page when he picked it up was an accident. So why do you feel so guilty for it.
Because you feel caught.
“What is this?” Peter's words sound almost hurt. His voice is soft, his eyes wandering your body. Instead of replying, you simply snatch the notebook back from his hands while he was too frazzled to prevent it.
You swallow the lump in your throat and manage to reply, albeit low and cold, “It's nothing Peter. I'm going home.”
“Is this why you’ve been acting strange? Have you been, have you been starving yourself?” Peter’s words were rushed and you thought for a moment that the tone of his voice would kill you. “Baby, answer me. When was the last time you ate? When did this start?”
He kept asking questions, and you kept not replying. You couldn’t bring yourself to look in his eyes and you couldn't manage to speak. You stood there in your pained silence.
Peter took you by the arms, trying to catch your eye but failing, “Talk to me.”
“I’m fine”
“No, no you aren’t fine. The things written on that paper aren’t fine. The way you’re acting isn't fine, you aren’t fine.” His tone wasn’t angry, it was more worried than anything. All you could do was stand there and listen.
Your voice came out barely as a whisper, “I wish I was fine.”
Peter took you into his arms and held you there. For the first time in months, you felt safe. You felt warm.
yo. so i just saw that spencer x reader you wrote featuring an ED. i was wondering if maybe you could write it as an imagine/one shot/whatever but from a different perspective? im struggling with losing weight unintentionally due to drug use and its starting to scare me. last time i was this thin i did have an ED. so would you be able to do one where the reader is just as concerned as spencer about their weight loss? maybe he helps find foods that work for them, encourages them to eat, etc? id love it of spence were cheering me on to finish a bowl of cereal (⋟﹏⋞)
"One more bite?"
Spencer Reid x Reader
Author's notes - {I have quite literally no clue if this is good or accurate, but I did my very best. I did a little research but I still wrote it very vague to avoid as much invalidating as possible. I hope this brings at least a little comfort, and my apologies for any and all inaccuracies}
TW- {Plenty of eating talk, reader eats, Spencer eats, they eat cereal, milk is mentioned, past eating issues are mentioned but barely, Pulp Fiction is mentioned, probably inaccuracies about movies, Dead Poets Society mention, there's a 420 joke but it's from Spencer so it's not really said as a joke, Autistic Spencer Reid, but that's just how I write him,not proofread, if there's any more lmk! love you all please eat some food and drink some water lovelies <3}
“I’m not hungry.”
God, it sounded so sad on your tongue. You wished you could just eat, you really did. You weren’t like you used to be, you didn’t want to be like this. You just wanted to eat.
Spencer’s face fell, but only a bit. He was used to this by now to, your body working against you. Your body craved things that would destroy it, but it refused to accept the things it needed, like food. It was scary for you, and it was positively horrifying for Spencer. He was watching you fight back, but wither away anyway, and he hated it.
"I know you aren't, but it's important that you eat it."
You groaned in annoyance. You knew Spencer was helping, but it was the same thing you've heard over and over again.
Reid seemed to think a bit before moving again, this time pouring milk into his own bowl before putting away the milk and the cereals, (fruit loops for you and raisin bran for him, which he insists helps him remember things during cases).
He came back to his bowl and started eating in front of you, "You like Tarantino movies right?"
"Uh, some of them, why?"
While you spoke he took a bite of his food, signaling with his spoon for you to do the same. Once you grabbed your spoon, he spoke again.
"Did you know that almost every clock in Pulp fiction is set to 4:20? Some people have said that they only have 2 scenes where they are set differently, but to be honest I've never seen it so I wouldn't know."
"Wait a minute," You said, "You have never seen Pulp Fiction?"
"That's what you got from that?"
"Who hasn't seen Pulp Fiction? It's a classic!" You took another bite of the cereal.
"That's what you said about Dead Poets Society." Spencer replied.
To be fair, he had read the book. He knew everything that would happen, it was definitely not your fault he spent the whole time pointing out things they got wrong. You simply nodded your head at his reply, messing with the fruit loops left spinning in your bowl.
"Wanna take one more bite for me?"
There was barely any left in the bowl, half of you wanted to fight back, and half knew it was stupid and that Reid wanted the same thing you did. You took the bite and slid the bowl over to him, which he quickly took with his to the sink.
"Ok," You stood up from your seat at the table, "We are totally going to watch it now."
Spencer giggled at your excitement, walking over to you and kissing your forehead. "Uh-hu. Go turn it on, I'll be in in a second."
You turned to walk over to the couch when Reid stopped you again,
"And hey, I'm proud of you."
He gave you a quick smile before you walked off again, and his smile only grew as he washed your empty bowl.
Bascically, rafe won’t sleep with you unless you’ve eaten properly and drank enough water.
Tw- {ed behaviors, mentions of reader eating, mentions of reader drinking water,reader is recovering from an eating disorder, theres talks of retricting, purging, and lax pills, none are in detail and its very vague on which ones reader actually had problems with, just to keep it open for anyone to self insert, reader forgetting to drink water, curse words used, idk how to write rafe without cursing im so sorry, soft rafe tho, ooc rafe, hes not a psychopath, reader is called numerous petnames, pretty angel, pretty baby, implied smut, no actual smut tho, idk if this is too close to smut to post on a comfort blog?} Pls tell me if this is crossing some comfort line
Your eyes lingered on the tall boy in front of you as he went about cleaning up the trash from the movie night you two had just concluded. He put the dishes away, catching you staring as he made his way back to the couch.
“My pretty angel, what’s with the ‘fuck me’ eyes hm?” He stood in front of you, using his hand to lift your chin so you were looking right at him.
You giggled a bit as you pulled your face away from his hand, “Shut up.”
Rafe took a seat next to you, “What did my pretty baby eat today while I was out?”
He always asked this, but he somehow found a way to make it seem casual. You knew you didn’t have a choice but to answer him, yet it never felt forced. He was nothing if not caring, making sure this topic never had to be any more uncomfortable for you than it already was.
“The lunch and dinner you made, I ate pretty much all of both to be honest, and I had some yogurt right before you got back.” Saying it all out loud made it feel like way more food than it really was, making you stress nearly immediatly, but before you could linger on the thought any longer you saw the immense joy in Rafe’s eyes.
He smiled a bit before responding, “Did you do anything after? Or take anything?”
He meant purging, or lax pills, something you had always found gross and unnerving, not wanting anyone to know or think you would do either, but he always talked of them with no judgement.
“Nope. My meals stayed fully digested today.” You couldn’t help the slightly annoyed tone, but you moved on quickly, “Did I pass your test?” You reached out to place a hand on his neck, gently scratching at his scalp.
“Mm, How much water did you drink?” shit
“Enough.” You responded, hoping he’d believe it.
“Uh-huh, sure.” He stood up, slowly walking to the kitchen.
“Rafe, it's not that big a deal, come on.” You huffed, "I'm plenty hydrated enough."
He knew what you wanted, you knew you weren't getting it until he was satisfied.
He brought you a glass of water, "Drink."
You took the cup and rolled your eyes, taking a sip from it.
"Keep acting like that and that cup will be the only thing you put your pretty little mouth on."
You nearly choked at his words, but quickly recovered enough to drink the water.
Rafe was just happy his baby was eating and drinking.
You want to try something new, Rafe definitely does not like that idea
TW- {SO many drug mentions I swear please skip this if that's a trigger for you, no actual drug use in this tho, it mentions reader smoking weed but it doesn't have an actual scene of it, I think its gn reader but it's not proofread, written on mobile, one use of y/n, reader is sensitive, on the edge of crybaby reader, reader is fairly skiddish, I really need to post things that people actually request instead of crappy 800 word drabbles but here we are! hope you enjoy, remember to drink water and eat a little smth lovelies}
Yesterday Rafe came back home from Barry's house, which usually meant he got stuff.
You were never one to join in his drug habits. You've never done anything stronger than weed, and even that was very rare for you. You wouldn't even call yourself a drinker, to be honest you were a goody two shoes compared to your boyfriend.
But something about today just felt off. You had felt like that for awhile now actually, like something just wasn't right but you couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. You just knew you didn't like the feeling, and you were willing to try something new to make it go away.
That's what led you to going through Rafe's pockets. He was in the shower, having thrown his clothes haphazardly on his bedroom floor. You knew he kept his little baggies in his shorts, and he wasn't watching you right now, certainly it wouldn't be hard to just look? Just take a peak, maybe just knowing you could would satisfy your mind.
You found a small bag, you pulled it out to make sure it was what you wanted. Sure enough, it was filled with white powder, some that you were all too familiar with. You had seen Rafe do it a million times, it couldn't be that hard right? All you would have to do is sniff, at least that's what you thought. You were stuck in your mind, contemplating whether or not you actually wanted to do it, when a hand grabbed yours, earning a small yelp from you.
“What the fuck are you doing?” He sounded mad, he was really trying not to, but it certainly didn’t work.
You stepped back a bit, cowering, “N-nothing, sorry.” You choked up a little, regretting the decision to even look in the first place.
Rafe took the bag from your hand and put it in the bedside drawer, making a mental note to take it out after you talk. He looked back over at you, now seated on the edge of the bed, and he let out a sigh.
"I wasn't gonna do anything with it Rafe, I promise." You really wanted the uncomfortable feeling in the room to go away.
He scratched at his forehead, "Then why were you holding it hm? What are you gonna do, throw it? Or hide it? It's my own personal business y/n you have no right deciding what I do with it."
Oh, You thought, He thinks I'm getting rid of it. You hated seeing him like this, so mad and paranoid. "No! No it wasn't like that I-"
"What was it like then? What other explanation is there for you going through my stuff?"
"I was gonna take it! I don't know I-" You weren't supposed to be crying, God, this is so stupid, "I don't know Rafe I wanted to do it but I knew you wouldn't let me so I just-"
"Oh honey-" His demeanor softened immediately at the sight of your tears, he quickly made his way to you, wrapping his arms around you while he spoke, "I'm sorry I got mad, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have assumed. I'm not angry at you."
You wiped your eyes, "I'm so tired Rafey"
"I know darling, I know. We're gonna get you help, something a bit better than coke tho alright? That's my thing, right sweetheart?" You giggled a bit at him, he was clearly trying to lighten the mood.
You wordlessly moved yourself to your side of the bed, sliding your body under the covers. Moments of high-emotion made you so sleepy, it was second nature to nap after crying. Rafe slid into the spot next to you, throwing his arm over your body and pulling you in close. He would hid the bag tomorrow, and would keep a close eye on you until he knew how to help you. Having you in his arms was enough for him for now though as he let himself drift asleep to the sound of your steady breathing.
Hey, could I get Matt murdock with #8 and #20 off of your most recent prompt list? Maybe with a reader who has self harm problems? Thank you so much!
Here you are lovely, sorry for the insanely long wait :)
TW- Self harm mentions, I tried staying as gn as possible but I'll have to re-edit to be sure, reader hurt their arm but nothing else is specific I don't think, a little ooc matt, Written on mobile :(
817 words, enjoy!
“Are you alright?”
A simple question really. Not one that should scare you as much as it does, but it’s coming from Matt.
Your all-knowing, no-nonsense super boyfriend. The one who can tell you more about yourself than you’ll ever know and the one who sees you best without ever really seeing you.
He just returned from his “night job” as you called it. He kept bad guys off the streets while you were left at home to fight your own demons.
The answer to his question is no, but he didn’t deserve to hear that. You should be asking him if he’s alright, not the other way around. So you did what you do best, you hid and you lied.
“Of course, ‘m just tired. How was your night?” A simple lie, but a lie nonetheless. You didn’t like lying to your sweet, loving boyfriend, but you also didn’t like the idea of telling him about your most recent relapse either.
He hummed slightly as he managed to change into his sleeping clothes, a nice baggy shirt and sweatpants that highlighted everything they should. He tossed one of his shirts over to you, with far too much aim and accuracy for a blind man, “Here, it’ll be more comfortable, it’s supposed to get warm in the morning.”
Okay, this is great, this is fine, it’ll be fine. He won’t notice. You slowly took off the sweatshirt you were wearing, paying careful attention to your fresh bandages.
You don’t know why you relapsed, and you aren't even quite sure why you started harming yourself in the first place, but it’s been something that you have fallen back on time and time again. You had told Matt about your issues with it, and he was nothing but kind and understanding. You ended that conversation with a promise to stay clean, you promised you would talk to him before doing anything, and you promised you wouldn’t lie about it if you ever did it again.
So, you’ve broken three promises tonight, and you would really like it if your super-senses boyfriend wouldn’t sense the guilt that is practically flowing out of your being.
You finally manage to get the sweatshirt off of you as quietly as you can. You pull the t-shirt on over your head and Matt almost immediately turns your way.
“Do you have a bandage on?”
Your heart nearly stops. You try your best to even out your breathing, you don’t want Matt to notice that you’re stressed. You take a breath before answering, “What? No, why?”
He walks a little closer to you, while still keeping his distance. He’s only hesitant when you’re panicking. He knows, he knows, he knows. “I heard it. I heard the fabric and the bandage, I-. Please tell me you didn't hurt yourself again."
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. You stayed silent.
“Im sorry, i shouldnt word it like that. You can tell me if you did.”
“No, no I can’t, you’re gonna be mad at me, you're gonna leave me, i-.” You couldn't breathe. You were looking at the ground, your hands scratching at your sides. You weren't sure when Matt made his way to you, but soon enough you felt his arms wrap around you. You smelled his body wash and gripped his shirt to ground yourself. You caught your breath before removing yourself from him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"It's okay, I'm not mad. Just go take a seat on the bed okay?"
You did as he said, sitting on the edge of the large bed. You watched as he made his way to the bathroom. You heard some scrambling and a few sighs, but you let him be. It took about 5 minutes before he walked out again. When he reappeared he was holding a trash bag in one hand and a first aid kit in the other.
"What are you doing?" You asked quietly.
He placed the trash bag by the door, "Taking care of you."
"Why?"
He sat next to you and opened the kit, "Because you clearly can't do it yourself." He grabbed your bandaged arm, making sure to stay as gentle as possible. "I'm going to redo your bandages okay? If you don't change them out you're gonna get infected."
You simply nodded and let him do as he wished. Your gaze stayed strictly on the ground. You didn't want to see his face as he ran his fingers along your wounds, even though you could hear the change in his breathing. You hated this, you hated feeling so exposed to him, but he somehow managed to make you feel safe.
He finished rewrapping your wounds before letting you lay back against the pillows. He put up the first aid kit and crawled into bed with you, pulling you as close to him as possible.
Roommate!Spencer Reid x hypersexual! traumatized! reader
she/her is used, bras are mentioned! if anyone would like this with a gn or male reader, please lmk!
-The one where your roommate knows why you are the way you are, but no one else does.-
Authors note- {this wasn’t requested, it’s really just me projecting, but i hope this helps someone!}
TW-{plenty of sex mentions, talks of underwear, talks of smut (but no actual smut), talks of porn (nondescriptive, but reader watches it), sex as a coping mechanism, allusions to non-con, reader doesnt really want to be this way, reader is traumatized, but the trauma is nonspecific so you can self insert, use of y/n, reid is autism coded but thats just how i write him all the time, plenty of whore/slut usage, please dont read if being called a whore/slut triggers you, plenty of negative self talk, i feel the need to bring up the non-con again.nothing is described in detail but its heavily implied. please be safe when reading!}
1.2k, enjoy <3
Whore
Honestly you were so used to that comment. That's what everyone thought, even yourself most of the time.
Logically, you knew why you were like this. You had enough Psychology knowledge to understand the way trauma responses worked, and you knew full well that that's what this was.
But it was so much easier to just call yourself a slut and move on. You just liked it, you would tell yourself, It has nothing to do with anything they did to you.
So what if you wished you were innocent and naïve? So what if you wished you could just wear comfortable clothes? So what if you wished you weren't always thinking about sleeping with someone? So what if you wished you could erase every trace of porn from your memory? You were a whore, you couldn't change it, you couldn't excuse it.
Your roommate Spencer knew what people thought of you. He knew the rumors and he saw the glances. He didn't quite believe it all when he first moved in with you into your small shared apartment, but he quickly picked up on some of the signs.
There was that time when he offered to wash your clothes for you when you were sick. He didn't try to look, if anything he was putting them in the wash with his eyes half closed, but he couldn't help but notice that every one of your undergarments were frilly and lacey. Certainly you would get tired of wearing cute bras or own some underwear that wasn't a thong? Or maybe he just didn't know women as well as he thought? He brushed off that incident, until there were more.
Like when he looked through your bookshelf only to find every spicy scene highlighted or bookmarked. It wasn't his place to judge, and he didn't, but he could have sworn you said your favorite books were classic novels, and these certainly weren't.
Or when he found porn on your laptop. He, again, didn't judge, but he was confused. You would shutter at any sex scene on TV, and you couldn't stand the subject. Sure, people called you every name under the sun, but not Spencer. Spencer didn't think you were a slut, but he did think you were in pain. He just didn’t know how to bring it up to you, it certainly wasn’t roomate or coworker appropriate, it was barely even friend appropriate. There was a line he didn’t ever want to cross with you, in fear of making you uncomfortable, but he wanted nothing more than to help you.
I was a random friday when he somehow found the confidence, and audacity, to bring it up. You just got back from your afternoon run, in shorts that definetly showed more than you liked, and Spencer was cooking dinner for the two of you.
You untied your running shoes and placed them on the shoe rack near the door like you always do. You walked to the kitchen and basked in the lovely arauma, if their was anything you loved about being Reid’s roomate, it was definetly his cooking.
He told himself to be gentle, to not bring it up when it wasn’t the right time, but when has he ever held something important back?
“Do you like having sex?”
Woah, wow. That’s not how he meant that, but now it’s too far to go back. So he put the timer on for his water to come to a boil and he turned to face you and wait for your answer.
You were nothing less than taken aback by his question. You never discussed sex with Spencer, there was always a silent boundary on the subject. It wasn’t his business, you both knew that, so why did you want to answer honestly? You didn’t, you couldn’t. That’s a can or worms for a different day, with a therapist, who you didn’t live with. So you simply laughed it off.
“I mean, you’ve heard the rumors, I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure that out.” You said it as a joke, Spencer didn’t laugh, he simply shifted his feet a bit.
“I am smart enough to figure it out. Except the answer I came up with, is that you don’t like it.”
You laughed again, this time shifting your eyes to the ground. Two psycho-analyzers living together had it’s quirks, such as exposing each other’s darkest secrets on accident.
“Come on Spencer, I’m like, a slut. Of course I do.” You were still smiling, mostly to deflect.
“Don’t say that.” He was serious. You certainly wish he wasn’t, but fine. If he wanted to be serious, you would be serious.
“It’s true.” You were surrounded by criminals on a daily basis, lying was second nature to you.
Reid wasn’t having it, “No, y/n, it’s not. You’re not a slut, you’re not a whore, you’re not just some sex toy to be traded from person to person.”
“My sex life is none of your business. I can sleep with whoever I want to-”
“That’s the thing! You don’t want to sleep with them. You don’t want to be looked at like that. You don’t want to consume any of the content that you’ve been looking at. I know you don’t.” He kept a steady voice, but a dominate one nonetheless. He let everything just roll of his tongue, as though he didn’t just send a wrecking ball through every wall you’ve built up since you were a child.
You couldn’t find words, you couldn’t come up with a lie or excuse, you couldn’t figure out how to let out the truth, you simply stood in your astonished silence.
Spencer looked at your face, searching for any sign of emotion, but you stood still as a statue.
“Look, y/n, I didn’t mean to-”
“I’m a slut.” Your voice cracked when you spoke, almost like Reid’s heart when he heard it.
“No, no my love you aren’t.”
“No. That’s what I am. That’s what I do, that’s what I’m good at. I-It’s what I’m good at. I’m good for sex, that’s what I’m good at.” Your gaze fell back to the floor as you spoke, your words quickly becoming muddled and rambled. Your body started shaking as you spoke, causing Spencer to quickly make his way to your side.
“Slut, I’m a slut Spence, it’s what I’m good at. It’s okay, I’m okay with it, I promise. I know, I know I am. It doesn’t bother me-”
“Shhh, Breathe honey. Come on, deep breath in-” Spencer breathed with you until you steadied yourself. You gathered your thoughts and your feelings. You tried to gather the pieces of the wall Reid broke, desperate to put it back together, but when you looked back up at Spencer, you let it all go again. He made you feel safe, that’s all that you wanted.
“I can’t stop it Spence.” Your voice was soft. You were letting go of something you held onto for so long. Soemthing you hid behind, something you felt comfort in, you just placed it down in front of him. You felt bare, naked, and yet somehow felt more comfortable than you ever have before. You could breathe easier. Someone knew now, someone knew you.
“We’re gonna get you some help. Okay?” You replied with a nod before wrapping your arms around him. He placed a kiss on your head before speaking again,
Hi, I was wondering if you could write a fic about Spencer Reid x sh/ed reader. The reader is very insecure because she feels like she used to be smart but isn't anymore and maybe after failing a case she starts harming herself again.
I was also wondering if you could include
that she wears a watch all the time
that she tends to cut small cuts on her fingers because she can blame them on other things and often digs her nails into them when anxious
has a good relationship with family so she feels her actions are unjustified
Spencer and reader are friends but shes always thought of him as more
I totally understand if this isn't possible and thank you.
"I want to help you carry it."
Spencer Reid x Sh!BAU!Reader
Author's notes- [ “has a good relationship with her family so she feels her actions are unjustified’ called me out personally and i need emotional compensation /j. Sorry these pieces have taken so long, a lot of my requests have been sh related and i wasn’t in the right headspace until recently, i hope you understand and i hope you enjoy this piece <3 also this is taken quite far from the prompt, so i’m sorry about that. I’ll definitely try to write more with reid and sh reader, so i’ll try to follow the request a bit more closely next time]
TW- {Self harm mentions, not super graphic, but it is a bit detailed, mentions of kidnapping and su!c!de (briefly), Eating habits mentioned, but not detailed at all, disassociation scenes, 2 of them i think, use of y/n}
1.2k words, enjoy
You looked down at your watch, watching the second hand tick all the way around the circle, desperately trying not to look up. If you looked up, all you would see is the dissapointed face of your best friend, Spencer.
You were sat on a stool near his kitchen counter. Usually if you were sitting here, there would be laughter and smiles, maybe pizza or some freshly baked cupcakes, but this was different. You only ever saw Reid like this once, when he sat you down to talk to you about your eating habits. You swore you would never do anything that would make him that upset again. You never wanted him to worry about you. He had enough on his plate, you would only be a burden. And yet, here you are.
You thought you were hiding it well, to be honest you really were. You never let anything slip, not a wince, not a complain, nothing. No one knew a thing, until today.
You were finishing a case, a rough one if you’re being honest. There was a young girl, one with scars everywhere, self inflicted. Everyone thought she had killed herself, except you and Reid. You both fought hard to find the girl. The team did end up finding her, she was trapped in some freaks attic. The case was closed, she was found, it was fine. You told yourself it was fine, you did your best to convince yourself that it didn’t bother you. It wasn’t until you were filling out your case reports that you finally let yourself dwell on it. You could hear Derek’s voice so clearly in your head, “Is it possible that she took her own life? It’s clear she has suicidal tendencies.” Even after JJ and Hotch explained the complexities of non-suicidal self injury, his words still rang in your head. You dont even know why it bothered you. I wasn’t judgmental, it wasn’t disrespectful, it wasn’t even a bad theory, but it rattled you. It’s like you could perfectly imagine them talking about you like that, like you were nothing but your habits. You knew that wasn’t how Morgan meant it, he was doing his job, you would do the same for any other case, but this one just stung.
As you thought about it, you faded into your mind. It’s like you weren’t even there at your desk, you were inside your head. Your nails found there way to your other hands knuckles. You were good at hiding the marks, and it was easy to lie about them. They were your hands, anyone would believe that you just knicked them, or got them stuck in your car door, or that your neighbors cat was a playful fella, or the countless other excuses you had saved in your resevoir. You never hurt youself in public, or when people could catch you, except today apperently. Your finger was red and bleeding by the time you snapped out of your haze. Or rather, was rudely dragged out of our haze by Spencer. You blinked a few times as you focused on him and what he was saying.
“Y/n stop that.” His hands were on yours. You were frozen for a second, your mind almost buffering, before the reality of that moment actually dawned on you. Without speaking a word you pulled your hands back and stoop up from your desk.
You grabbed your bag, sliding your unfinished report into your desk drawer, before beginning to walk off, “Good work Spence, I’ll see you tommorow.” You made your way to the elevator, ttrying to avoid the obvious footsteps following you. He put his hand on your shoulder as you made your way out of the building, gently guiding you to his car. You didn’t fight it, you knew you couldn’t, and you would really rather not make a scene in your work parking lot. You listened to the hum of his car air conditioner as he drove the all familiar route to his appartment.
That’s how you ended up here. A few warm tears falling down your cheeks while Spencer silently stares at your shrunken figure. He was trying to find the words that he wanted to say, which was never a good thing. He was the Spencer Reid, he always knew what to say.
He finally cleared his throat, after what felt like ages, “Non-suicidal self injury is a habitual addiction, but it’s possible to recover from it. You just have to tell someone about it, that’s step one. That’s always been step one. We’ve talked about this.”
“I know Spence. I’m sorry.” Your voice was small. You felt small compared to your all knowing best friend. You knew everything there was to know about self harm, sometimes it was the only thing you wanted to read about or learn about, sometimes you felt like it was the only thing you knew about, but you knew this was how Reid helped, so you tried to stay calm as you let him tell you everything that you already had memorized.
“We’re friends y/n, you can talk to me.”
You huffed at that, mumbling a small, “Yea friends.”
“You’re deflecting.” He sounded softer, you hurt him. You were deflecting, and now you feel worse than you did before. You hated this, you wanted to go home and relive this day. Your nails started to sink into the skin on your thigh.
“Why do you keep doing that?” Great, Spencer saw. Spencer knows. Spencers going to think your insane, he’s going to talk about you like your a victim. He’s going to talk to you like a baby and look at you like your bleeding out in front of him. He’s never going to think about you the way you think of him, your just some charity case for him. He doesn’t -
His hand grabs yours, taking it away from your leg. Before your brain can catch up with you, your arms are wrapped around him, pressing your face into his torso. Your tears are falling more freely now. You feel his hands run through your hair and rub against your back. You never feel more safe than you do when your in his arms, your thoughts can’t catch you here.
You aren’t sure how long you stay like that before you gently pull away from him. You sit patiently as he examines your hands. You can see the hurt in his eyes, you do your best to ignore it.
“I love you, y/n. I don’t want you to do this to youself. You can get help for this. You can talk to me about it if you need to.” He was soft, but not condescending. You could feel yourself melt, as though you needed another reason to love him.
“I can’t do that, I’ll just be a burden. This isn’t your baggage to carry.” You started to pull away again.
“It’s still your baggage, I just want to help you carry it. Let me help you, please.” His voice pulled you right back in.
You wiped the remaining tears from your face, “Okay Spence.” He sighed in relief, taking your hands and leading you to the couch. You both sat, you resting your head against his chest. You didn’t have to talk about it now. You knew you would eventually, but that's another thing about Spencer, you felt comfortable. You didn’t feel anxious about the impending conversations to be had, you weren’t stressing about him watching you or knowing your secrets, you simply felt safe. That was enough for now.
You change your habits again, only this time your super smart profiler best friend notices
[TW, disordered eating, disordered thoughts, use of y/n (way more than I would have liked), rushed writing. If there are anymore pls lmk!]
-this is a part of my little comfort blurbs to write while I'm not home, this wasn't a specific request, but feel free to request either a blurb or a full fic in my asks (just specify which one) thank you for reading <3-
It was a great morning, it really was. You woke up, got dressed, and got to work just in time to pour yourself the last bit of coffee left in the work's coffee pot.
Then you walked to your seat.
You didn't think much of it really, you used to drink coffee black all the time. Sure, you prefer filling it with cream and sugar, but you really didn't need it. this was fine. You drank your black coffee and got through the day.
The next morning was a bit rougher. You had to leave for Texas for a case, and it honestly just slipped your mind to eat before the flight took off. You always forgot meals, it wasn't a big deal, it certainly didn't mean anything.
That evening you were getting ready for bed in the hotel room that you were sharing with Spencer Reid. You and Spencer had been friends since he began working with the BAU and it wasn't unusual for you two to be in one room together.
It felt off though.
"Hey, y/n," Spencer started, "I have some pretzels in my bag if you want some."
Sure, you were a little hungry. You were too busy with the case to eat the rest of the day. So you calculate that at about 26 hours without eating.
"I'm good, thank you though." You couldn't risk it You aren't quite sure what you're not risking, but the thought of eating anything makes you want to run in the opposite direction.
Spencer didn't accept it though, "At least drink something then. How about a coke?"
"Do they have diet?"
So, Sure, maybe you are being a little picky.
"You know, studies show that diet sodas contain a chem-"
"Spenc I love you, but I really don't want to hear about how it's going to give me brain cancer."
He grabbed your drink from the fully stocked fridge and walked it over to you, "You know you can talk to me right?"
You opened the soda and took a sip before responding, "Of course, why?"
"Your new thing with calories."
You didn't have a thing.
"There's no thing." You placed the drink down and stood up. You began to make your way to the bathroom, you didn't want to have this stupid conversation. A conversation that definitely didn't have to happen, because it was pointless. There was no problem. Sure, you cut down your calories, and sure, you re-downloaded MyFitnessPal, and sure you haven't eaten since last night, but that didn't mean there was a problem. You weren't small or tiny, and only tiny girls have problems. You didn't have a problem.
"Y/n?" Spencer's voice buzzed in your ears. You blinked and focused your eyes on where you were. You were leaning on the wall. Why were you leaning on the wall?
"Y/n you need to eat something."
Oh, so you were blacking out. But you didn't actually pass out, because only sick people pass out, "I'm fine Spencer I'm just tired."
He grabbed you by your hands. When did he even get over here? Your senses were fading in and out, you were on the bed now, you don't really remember getting there. You swore up and down you didn't have a problem, so why is this so scary?
"I'm going to get you some food okay?"
No no no no no no no no no
"Y/n?"
He said your name so gently, like you were fragile, like he could break you. You looked back up at him, at his kind eyes. You broke.
"I don't know what's wrong with me."
He sat next to you as you fell into his arms. You cried onto his shoulder.
"It'll be okay. We'll get you some help. It won't be so scary anymore, I promise."
This one is more of a cathartic work than a comfort work, but if you need an outlet or something to call you out then you have certainly come to the right place. This is a part of some quick blurbs I wrote while I wait to post my longer fic requests :)
[TW, PLEASE READ, I cannot stress enough how triggering this fic could be. It is written mainly from an overthinking, self hatred, train of thought pov and its filled with terrible things about readers self image. It doesn't have any comfort at the end, only crying. Again, it's more of a vent fic than a comfort fic, please don't read if you think it will trigger you. If i missed any tw pls let me know. Feel free to reqiest a blurb in my asks ! <3]
Modern! James potter x Fem! reader-
"Pretty Girls"
It had been four hours. Four full hours of you scrolling through tiktok only to find every girl who was prettier, skinnier, and better than you. You had tears in your eyes, but you couldn't find it in you to stop scrolling. You had to figure out how they did it, you need to know how to make yourself look like they did and talk like they did and smile like they did and walk like they did and move like they did. You had to make yourself be like them.
James knocked gently on the bathroom door, "Baby," he started, "It's been awhile, are you okay?"
Of course you weren't okay. They were pretty. They were skinny. They has straight teeth. They weren't sitting alone on the cold bathroom floor praying that they could fall asleep and wake up in a different body.
"Love?"
And James, poor James. He's so perfect, so correct. He deserved a pretty girlfriend, He deserved someone who could make him feel good. Someone who wouldn't hurt him when they sat on him, someone who knew what they were doing and could do anything they set their mind to.
"I'm coming in okay?"
The door knob clicked as it opened. You didn't hear it. You couldn't see the concerned look on James' face through your tears. You couldn't feel his hands on your shoulder, in fact, the only thing you could feel was the bile raising in your throat. You felt weird, you felt gross. You felt so full of hatred towards yourself and you didn't know where to put it. You didn't know what to do with it.
"Hey, look at me. What's wrong?"
You looked at him, but it only made you feel worse. He was so pretty. You focused on the feeling of his hand on your shoulder. It was a nice hand, a great hand even. You didn't deserve that hand.
All of a sudden all that you could think of was to get away from him. You were going to contaminate him with your grossness. You couldn't do that. You pulled your shoulder closer toward yourself and pulled your knees up into a ball. When James tried to move closed you swatted at him with your arms,
"No, no, no, g- go away."
You could barely get words out. You didn't want to speak. You didn't have a good enough voice to speak. You wanted to be gone, you wished more than anything that you could disappear. You put your head against your knees and cried. You cried and you cried and you cried and you didn't stop.
James didn't try to touch you again. He sat back against the wall opposite of you and cried with you. He didn't cry because he didn't want you. He didn't cry because you swatted him away. He cried because you were in pain and he didn't know how to make it stop.
mini blurbs to make up for having to wait till I get back home to post full fics-
dealer/stoner!Remus Lupin x Reader -
"Breathe Dove"
[reader wants to smoke to avoid her own mind, Remus doesn't like that idea. TW- overthinking, mentions of drvgs, allusion to panic attack. Reader has enough hair for a ponytail.]
You were stressed. You were always stressed, but today was especially bad. You weren't even quite sure why. The only thing you wanted was to lay in your boyfriends arms, and well, maybe smoke a little. He would let you, of course. He loves you, he wouldn't tell you no, would he?
You got home to a lovely Remus sitting on the couch waiting patiently for you. You quickly made your way over to him, your body finding its way to his as you wrapped your arms around him.
"Remy," You whined, "Can you roll me one of those things." You couldn't even think of the terminology, you just knew that you needed something to distract yourself with.
Remus looked down at you and sat you down on the couch that he was on. He turned his head slightly, "And why do you need that dove?" He was genuinely confused, you never had much interest in smoking before.
"I dont know," you admitted, "I just need something."
Remus started to get concerned, "How about we get you something to eat instead?"
Your faced scrunched up as you shook your head, "Please?"
"No," Remus said, "Not tonight okay?"
You knew he was doing the right thing. You knew you shouldn't, but man, his no made you mad. It was too much, you had a long day and now your boyfriend wants to control you. He wants to make decisions for you. He can't do that. He can't tell you what not to do, he isn't the boss of you. You can do whatever you want, you can make your own decisions.
"Hey, hey, hey," Remus' hand was on your shoulder, "Breathe Dove"
You blinked once, twice, three times and looked into his eyes.
"It's okay love just breathe. How about we get some rest yea?"
You didn't even answer before he grabbed your hand and led you to his bed. He grabbed a ponytail from the nightstand and gently tied your hair up. He pulled the blankets over you after you made yourself comfortable. He turned the lights off and laid down, placing a quick kiss on your cheek before finally relaxing next to you.
-short and rushed, if you want a super short blurb within the next 3 days, feel free to send an ask, just specify its for this and not a full request. Love you all, stay safe :) -
Jonathan Byers with a reader with ADHD and anxiety
But not the crying kind
Nerves are always fried, just stressed
knee bounces
Hands are always doing something, tracing patterns, playing with rings,
Doesn't mind crowds but some people give her random anxiety
Isn't to worried about school, but is worried about Jonathan, anxiety for loved ones
I need him not trying to fix her. Trying to appreciate her for who she is
Here you go :)
"Your string of lights is still bright to me"
Jonathan Byers x Adhd!Anxious!Fem Reader [she/her pronouns used]
{TW/CW}- Talks of adhd, fidgeting, food is mentioned, reader doesn’t eat breakfast bc of executive dysfunction, but jon does have her eat, but the actual action of eating isnt discussed, sweet jonathan byers, I love him your honor, mentions him trying to ‘help’ her but it's not fixing her, reader has issues with body temperature, like she gets hot flashes bc of overthinking and stuff, jon calls reader honey once
{Authors note}- Tbh, i kinda hate this fic, but I love jon and this reader. so please, if you have any specific scenarios or prompts you want to see with them, send me an ask with it. i want to write for them more! GIF creds to the owner, title creds to taylor swift
{Word count}- 1,101. It's a short one today babes
There was no one in this world that you loved more than Jonathan Byers. He meant everything to you. He accepted you for who you were, and that mattered more to you than anything else.
You can remember clearly how it felt when he realized there was something off about you. You can remember how you were certain he would leave you. You remember telling him about your ADHD and being scared that he would think differently of you. You remember describing what it was like to live the way you live, with feeling nervous and fidgety for no apparent reason. You thought you were too much for him, you had too many things wrong with you.
And you can remember the indescribable peace you felt when he held your hands and told you he loved you. Even with your faults, though he would never see them as such. It was all you. He promised himself that he would never let you think less of yourself for things you couldn’t control.
That’s not to say it was easy, because it wasn’t. It still isn’t. But Jonathan’s effort to help will always have you falling for him all over again. He spends his time watching and noticing, picking up on ways he can help you.
Sometimes it’s small things, one’s that you don’t even pick up on. He’ll buy you new rings and bracelets, ones with beads and charms that you can fidget with. He’ll place rubber pieces to the ends of your pencils for you to chew on to keep your pretty little nails intact. He rubs his hand along your back when bouncing your knee, keeping you calm but never making you stay still. He lets you run your fingers through his hair when you need to do something with your hands. He keeps the temperature cooler when he knows you’re coming over, afraid you’ll overthink and overheat.
Sometimes it’s bigger things, things that make you feel like a burden. He’ll stay over at your place when you can’t fall asleep, or drive you around until your eyes flutter closed. He’ll leave with you if you get overwhelmed, anytime and anywhere. He always asks you before inviting someone else to hang out with yall, you’re always his first priority. He would shut someone up immediately if they said anything bad about you or the way you were acting.
You had only told a few of your friends. You tended to avoid the subject, you didn’t like the way people would view you differently or the way they would treat you. You didn’t want to hear about how you should ‘take a deep breath’ or ‘just sit still’. Many people just didn’t understand, but Jonathan did.
Today was a particularly bad day. You woke up and the temperature was too hot in your room. When you wake up warm, your day is wrong, that’s how it works. You don’t know why and you always try to get past it, but your bad day usually continues to persist.
You didn’t want to brush your teeth. You weren’t too tired, or too lazy, you just felt like you couldn’t. You saw the toothbrush, and you saw the toothpaste, and you couldn’t. So, you went to your kitchen to grab something for breakfast, maybe something to kickstart your day, but nothing seemed appealing.
Finally, you simply settled in your bed. You laid down and stared at your ceiling while you let your thoughts run freely. You heard the phone ring but you couldn’t get up to get it. You couldn’t do anything but stare and think and run your hands along your blankets. You weren’t aware of how much time had passed before you heard a small knock at your door.
“Come in”
The door creaked slightly and you heard a familiar set of footsteps approach you.
“Bad day sweetheart?” Jonathan asked as he sat down on your bed, weighing down the left side and causing you to roll a little bit.
You laughed as you sat up and motioned for Jonathan to lie down. He laid back against your lap, your hands soon finding their way to his hair.
“I’m fine.”
Even with his face being upside down for you, you could tell he didn’t believe you. He hummed before he responded,
“You sure? You didn’t answer my call and you didn’t eat breakfast.”
“How do you even know that?”
“When you eat breakfast, you have a snack right after, or chew gum. You have to keep chewing.” He replied casually, as though he didn’t just call out a specific detail a normal person would never take notice of.
It scared you a bit, and yet it didn’t surprise you at all. He always noticed things that you thought people would try to ignore. He never once judged you or tried to ‘save’ you, he only asked how he could help, and sometimes he knew you better than you knew yourself.
You were quiet while you thought, though your hands were still brushing through the boy's hair. You sighed before you spoke, “Don’t you ever get tired of me?”
Jonathan sat up at that and turned to face you, “Why would you think that?” His hands found yours before you could bring your nails to your mouth.
“I just, I don’t know, I’m a very tiring person I guess. It wouldn’t hurt my feelings if you ever thought I was too much.” It most certainly would hurt your feelings, but you wouldn’t say that.
He took in a breath, you could see in his eyes he was a little hurt.
Of course, you thought, he is tired of me. I gave him an out and he’s going to take it.
“Oh honey,” here it is, “I could never get tired of you.”
Oh
“Nothing you do is ‘too much’. You mean everything to me, I could never think of you like that.”
It’s moments like this that make you wonder how you were so lucky as to have Jonathan in your life. You don’t say anything back, you just allow his words to fill your mind. You take a moment to believe them. Even if you don’t feel that way about yourself, you know he wouldn’t lie to you.
Jonathan seems to know that that’s all you needed to hear. He also knows he’ll have to tell you again, and again, and again, but he doesn’t mind. He’ll tell you forever if you needed him to.
He stands up and holds out his hand, “Come on, let’s go get something to eat mkay?”
hello! is this blog still active? because i've been searching EVERYWHRE for a writer like you and you'd probably become my favorite blog if you do, i mostly read for comfort and you're okay writing for what i was looking for the most ;;;
hi ! im still alive i swear !
I have a few fics that im almost done with to post actually. I'll try to be more active on this blog. Feel free to send me requests if you need any specific comfort fics <3
Hi ! I'm Kae, and I write comfort fics ! This is my comfort fic account, my main account is @rosesareyellowtoo !
I write x reader or x oc/self insert comfort fics. I myself have gone through a lot of the experiences and issues that I write about and I've studied psychology for numerous years, so my hope is to share content that you all can relate to without mischaracterizing personal things people struggle with.
Here are my rules for requests, as well as what all I can do! -
Who I write for -
-CANON HP-
Ron Weasley*
George Weasley
Fred Weasley
*if a character is canonically under 18, I will not write on anything sa/s3x/p0rv related. I'm aware these issues exist for readers under 18, but I'm not comfortable writing for such.
**for hunger games reqs, i will not write about the games themselves/anything inside an arena. I'm fine with trauma from previous games tho, or just general comfort that isn't related to the games!
What I'm willing to write-
. sh
. eating disordered things
. addiction problems
. intrusive thoughts
. su!c!dal thoughts
. ocd!reader
. bipolar!reader
. adhd!reader
. depression and everything that goes with that
. anxiety
. s3x addiction/p0rv addiction
.ov3rs3xualizing issues
.rape/sa and the ptsd from it
. ptsd
.nightmares
. any fluff and hurt/comfort
. also im willing to do angst, im just better at hurt/comfort
What im NOT willing to write-
. s3x related issues with characters under 18
. 18+ characters paired with an explicitly stated minor reader
. enabling or encouraging disordered behavior. I don't have to write the reader fully getting better but I will never write anything that encourages disordered behavior!
Some extra things to note-
. I am clean from sh and I'm recovered from an ed, with that being said, it is possible that requests involving these issues might take a little longer for me to get to. I am stable and healthy and very willing to write on these topics, but if for any reason I'm in a bad headspace, I don't want to make myself worse by ruminating on it.
When you send an ask for a fic, please just make sure to be as specific as possible! any little detail you want specified, just write it. I promise, details in asks will never bother me.
