#im just. scared. and tired. this is really hard

[oaksgrove]

hi love! I hope you're doing alright ♡

im here to request a tiny, little angsty piece. I can picture John being so, so tired from work that he just can't stand being touched, but his beloved needs it so badly, so they go for it (holding his hand) —don't get them wrong, they always ask! but they also had a bad day. John snaps, accidentally smacking their hand away.

little angst, with John comforting withdrawn neurodivergent reader after he accidentally snaps at them, which turns into them comforting each other because "you're tired - no, you are tired", until John moves to seek their touch himself

Tired.

Pairing: John Price x Neurodivergent!Reader

Synopsis: Some days are too much. Too loud, too bright, too sharp. When the world presses in, you don’t need grand gestures. You just need John to understand.

Warning: Sensory overload, brief miscommunication/startled response, hurt/comfort, soft reconciliation

The kettle was screaming again.

High-pitched. Piercing. It had only just started, but it dragged across your nerves like nails on glass. You stood frozen in the doorway of the kitchen, jumper sleeves stretched down past your hands and gripped tight in your fists.

It was just a kettle.

But it wasn’t.

The hallway light was flickering again, same as yesterday, the bulb stuttering in the corner of your vision. The drawer next to the stove was open again—your carefully organized cutlery now out of order, one large spoon stuffed awkwardly into the teaspoon slot like a mistake you couldn’t fix. And the boots—

Thud. Thud. Thud.

John’s heavy steps across the kitchen floor, back and forth, back and forth like a pacing bear in a too-small cage. He was muttering again, voice low but rough with frustration.

“Fucking brass—changing the op schedule last minute—bloody nightmare—”

You winced.

You weren’t scared of him. Never had been. But the noise, the pressure, the weight of it all pressing down around your shoulders—it was too much today. Too loud. Too bright. Too off.

You didn’t even realize you’d whispered his name until his voice cut through the air, sharp and fast.

“What?” he snapped, turning with a furrowed brow, hand half-raised in mid-gesture.

It wasn’t loud. Not really.

But it cracked something in you.

Your whole body stiffened. Like a rubber band stretched too thin. Your shoulders drew up high and your chin tucked down, sleeves clenched in your fists, throat closing up.

John stopped.

Instantly.

His face changed—brows falling, mouth parting with regret blooming like a bruise behind his eyes.

“Shit—no, love—wait—” he stepped toward you quickly, one hand out, then hesitated, hovering like he didn’t want to crowd you. “I didn’t mean that. Christ, I’m sorry.”

You said nothing. You looked down.

And that was somehow worse.

“I was just—” he started again, then cut himself off with a frustrated sound, softer this time. “Fuck, I was bein’ a right bastard.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” he said.

You tried to breathe. The room felt too big and too tight all at once. The kettle shrieked one last time before clicking off. Still too late.

“I didn’t mean to be in your way,” you murmured. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just—everything’s loud today. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

John stared at you. His mouth twitched like he was about to argue—but then he caught himself. He crouched a little in front of you instead, like he was trying to shrink himself. His voice lowered.

“You’re not makin’ it worse. I am,” he admitted. “I know when I get like this—loud, angry—I make things heavier. And you’re carryin’ too much as it is.”

You didn’t answer. Not right away.

Just tried to unknot your fingers from your sleeves.

“I don’t always have the words,” you said finally, voice thin. “Some days I just… can’t talk properly. Or explain why everything feels so sharp.”

John’s gaze dropped to your hands, your tight shoulders, the way you were trying so hard to regulate even as your body rebelled against the room.

“You don’t have to explain,” he said. “Not to me.”

You looked at him. A flicker of disbelief passed across your face.

“I’m not good at being…” you trailed off. “Easy. Or quiet. Or normal.”

John’s throat bobbed with a hard swallow.

“I didn’t marry you because I wanted normal,” he said. “I married you because you feel like home.”

A beat of silence. The flickering light still buzzed. But it felt dimmer now—like the world had shifted, just slightly, around him.

“You’re tired,” you said softly. “You’ve been pacing since you got back.”

His mouth tugged into a wry smile. “No, you’re tired.”

You blinked. “Okay. We’re both tired.”

He huffed a warm, half-laugh. Then—very carefully—he leaned his forehead against your chest. Not heavy, just enough for you to feel the quiet weight of him.

“You always let me come back,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Even when I act like a grumpy sod.”

Your hand came up without thinking. Just resting gently in his hair. Fingers threading through the soft, short strands at his crown.

“I love you,” you said quietly. “Even when you’re a grumpy sod.”

He exhaled. His arms wrapped around your waist.

“I’m sorry for snapping,” he murmured. “Sorry for making today harder.”

“You didn’t,” you whispered. “You just startled me. That’s all.”

You held each other for a long while—standing in the middle of the kitchen, kettle off, boots stilled, lights flickering quietly above. Nothing had changed. But everything had softened.

And when John eventually pulled back to press a kiss to your forehead, he didn’t say anything more.

He just reached over, finally closed the drawer the proper way, and turned off the light.

“C’mon, love,” he said gently. “Let’s go sit down. I’ll make you tea.”

taglist: @honestlymassivetrash @pythonmoth @kittygonap @rainyjellybear @anonymouse1807 @twoandahalfdimes

[lilacwinexi]

𝐌𝐲 A𝐥𝐥 -

James Kelly x f!reader

“id give my all to have just one more night with you.”

The rain had stopped hours ago, but the pavement still looked wet under the streetlight outside my window. A reflection shimmered on the floorboards, just enough to catch my eye every few seconds. I curled deeper into the blanket, knees to chest, phone resting heavy in my palm.

I told myself I wasn’t going to call. Not tonight. Not again. But my body ached in that specific way, not just for touch, not just for heat. But for him.

The way his hands knew where to go without asking. The way he kissed like he was saying something he didn’t have the words for. The way he looked at me like he already knew I was lying when I said I was fine.

I wasn’t.

And the silence in my room was too loud. He’d been gone for weeks, but the ghost of him never really left. I could still smell him on the pillow, still feel his breath in the curve of my neck if I lay still long enough. I hated how much of him still lived in this room. In me.

He told me to stop calling, said it only made things harder. But what was I supposed to do with all this need? What was I supposed to do with all this love?

My thumb hovered over his name on the screen. I didn’t mean to press it — not really. But I did.

“…hello?” His voice Low. Tired. Rough. It wrecked me.

“It’s me,” I whispered.

A pause. Not surprise. Just silence soaked in understanding.

“I know,” he said softly. And I cursed myself for hitting the call button.

“Im sorry, I know I said I wouldn’t call-“ He cut me off before I finished.

“Why’d you call?” I swallowed hard. “Because I miss you. And because pretending like I don’t doesn’t work anymore.”

He let out a breath, and I swear I heard him shift — sheets rustling, the soft creak of his bed frame. I imagined him sitting up, rubbing his hand across his face the way he always did when he was trying not to feel too much.

“I shouldn’t come over,” he said after a beat. But his voice didn’t sound convinced. “I know.” I replied, barely a whisper.

“But you want me to.” He said, in a quiet tone. I closed my eyes. “I want more than I should.”

He went silent.

Then, finally, “I still think about you,” he murmured. “Even when I don’t want to.”

“God, me too.” I rubbed my head, regretting my actions. I shouldn’t have called, but I’m too far gone now. And we both know this will only end in one way. I heard him sigh — that low, familiar sound that made my chest ache.

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

He hung up, leaving no room for argument. I stayed sitting on my bed for minute processing what just happened.Then I stood, brushing my hair out of my face, wiping my dark eyes. I didn’t bother with makeup. I didn’t bother changing. He’d seen me like this. And still, he always kissed me like I was something beautiful.

When the knock finally came, I was already at the door. He looked the same, damp from the misty night, eyes heavy, jacket in his hand, and something unreadable on his face.

I didn’t say a word. Just stepped back. He walked in like he never left, and I let him.

There was no small talk. No pretending. Just an undeniable tension in the room that was quickly fulfilled when he kissed me, it wasn’t soft — it was aching. His hands gripped my waist like he was afraid I’d disappear. My fingers curled into his shirt like I needed him to stay stitched together.

Clothes came off without a word.

His hands gripped my shirt, pulling it up and over my head slowly like he was scared I might break. I started working on his belt, none of us saying a word besides the breathy gasps and whimpers of need.

Once our clothes were off he laid me down on the bed, his hands going to my hips as his whole body pressed me into the mattress. The feeling of his skin against mine again was intoxicating, his fingertips digging into my hips.

I looked up into his eyes, watching his lust filled eyes as he entered me in a teasing stroke. My eyes rolled back, feeling his warm breath hit my collarbone as he began thrusting.

I watched, entranced, as his body moved against mine. He knew all the angles to drive me crazy. One arm rested against the pillow next to my head, hands gripping the plush pillow like he was holding back going too fast. His other hand resting on my hip, pulling me towards his thrusts.

I let out soft moans, throwing my head back against the pillow. My back arching up until my breasts were pressed against his chest. It felt so wrong and so right, after all this time without him. His cross necklace swung back and forth in front of my face as he rolled his hips into mine.

Suddenly, breathless and needy, he turned over onto his back. His hands immediately gripped my hips, guiding me up and down. Once I got the right motion and rhythm, he let go of my hips and placed his hands at the back of his head. His hips still bucking upwards to meet my thrusts.

I let out filthy noises, rolling my hips like a wild animal. He watched me, his mouth slightly open, letting out casual whimpers. “Oh god…” he whispered, his chest sweaty and heaving. He looked pathetically handsome, and so close to his release.

He sat up suddenly, leaning against the headboard. Pulling me impossibly closer like he wanted us to mold together. I wasn’t complaining. His arms wrapped around me, thrusting faster up into me. I let out a louder moan, leaning my forehead against his shoulder.

The room filled with the dirty sounds of our love making, skin slapping and wet noises combined with our needy moans. “Look at me…” he said breathlessly, and I lifted my head to look up into his blue eyes. I let out a soft moan, leaning my forehead against his as I felt him twitch inside me.

Our breaths mingled as we chased each others release. My hips moving at a steady speed, his hands squeezing the skin on my hips, silently encouraging me. I looked up into his eyes and the look in them was enough to unravel me. My body convulsed in his arms as I came hard. He let out a loud groan, squeezing his eyes shut. Feeling him fill me up in a matter of seconds.

We stayed wrapped in each other for a few moments, our chests heaving against one another. I placed my sweaty forehead against his shoulder, softly kissing the skin. His thumb lazily rubbed my thigh, a comforting thing he’s always done after sex.

I lift my head and look up at him, cupping his face. “I’d give my all just to have this again.” I say softly, my voice rough from the passionate moment earlier. He didn’t answer. But he leaned in and kissed my forehead, and that was enough of an answer for me.

[heyitsdrawey]

I'm making an addendum to my pinned but am saying it here too. Do not engage in discourse with me. I DO NOT WANT TO ARGUE WITH YOU :( I want to be friends with people. I have accidentally come upon minefields of arguments and I don't want that at all. I'm extremely scared of saying or doing the "wrong thing", please don't attack me if I'm wrong about something, just tell me gently, I promise I have good faith and don't want anyone hurt. It's hard knowing who to trust in the realm of media discussion, and I just want to learn. Please, give me the chance to.

[lilac-set]

Ya ever think about how when you dont receive medical treatment for something you have to sign an “against medical advice” form saying that you understand if you dont follow medical advice you could experience increased and unforeseen problems including death, but if you do receive medical treatment for anything you also have to sign an informed consent form saying that you understand if you do follow medical advice you could experience increased and unforeseen problems including death

[gay--dog]

i wish my anxiety disorders didnt develop so fucking young ngl. it would be cool to at least have some memory of what not being scared all the time is like . lol

[chronicallyonlinediaries]

,

[kunikisss]

being needy and starved of all types of human interactions & relationships And having a generally unpleasant personality n being unattractive on top of that really doesnt mix well huh

[jils-things]

2024 is probably not my best year now that i think about it

[rapidhighway]

dad just sent me an ominous text to intimidate me ig

[clockworksheep2]

in bed and have a comfort tea i havent had in . like a whole year i think. maybe two. and i am going to draw and maybe read the new book we got (that we've been wanting for 2+ years) and uhm. idk. i want to be okay and i want things to feel okay. i am trying very hard to make things a little bit better. i just hope i can sleep. i am scared of tomorrow!!!

[ozymoron]

reading posts that come across my dash and sitting for a minute to debate with my mental disorder if not reblogging this will mean a hell portal will open beneath my feet and i will suffer for eternity for my lack of action or if its all good and i can just scroll on by (its usually the hell portal thing)

[phantomkinoc13]

.

[desthebolt]

Me wanting to promote my commissions cause im struggling financially VS Me being too busy/tired to probably handle commissions

FIGHT

[kalashtars]

current state of politics really got me swerving wildly between "yes I want to present as a man" and "oh god is this even worth it maybe I'm not even really trans" and it's bringing me to my limit

[ame-to-ame]

My friends are so nice to me??? I love them???

[sleepless-crows]

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