Adam Driver Character Imagines

~Starved~Flip Zimmerman-NSFW~

Warnings: symptoms of touch starvation can include: anxiety/self-isolation/stress/feelings of depression

Light smut

You bite your lip gently, staring at the clock ticking on the wall. With every passing moment, the movement of the thin hand seemed to get louder and louder. It made your heartbeat quicken and your palms to grow clammy. The blanket you had tightly wrapped around yourself suddenly felt as though it was suffocating you. Even as you push it aside, you realize that the feeling was not going away. It was like a heavy weight being pressed against your chest.

It's okay, you think to yourself, scrunching your eyes shut. Just count backwards from ten.

As you count, you try to focus on your breathing. It begins to ease up and slow down, allowing you to release your iron grip on the edge of the blanket. What you were experiencing could only be described as frustrating.

It had been three weeks since you realized you were 100% touch-starved. The realization was followed quickly by panic and the urgent need to call your boyfriend, Flip. Just as you had reached for the phone, you were met with the overwhelming anxiety of the possibility of disturbing him. He would already have his hands full with this brief visit up to Wyoming to help out with a short-handed case. You knew you were going to miss him, but you didn't think it was going to be this bad.

To make matters worse, you didn't have any family members that lived here with you. It was just you and Flip in this cabin that you helped pay for together. Some nights it would get so bad that you would lock yourself in your room, curl up against the headboard of your bed with a blanket wrapped around you, and one of Flip's flannels in your clutch. The baths would help for a little while, but the isolation and anxiety always returned.

You wipe your sweaty hands on your knees, scrunching up the fabric of your sweatpants. How long had you been wearing these now? For weeks you were practically getting devoured by sweatpants and hoodies. They were the closest thing to comfort you could find either than the blankets and Flip's clothing. Sometimes you walked around in his flannels, but that only managed to make you cry.

Eyes nervously flicking back to the clock, you try to force down the lump growing in your throat. Flip was supposed to have been home an hour ago. You knew it was silly to be worrying like this, but you couldn't help it. You lick your lips nervously, anticipating the moment your boyfriend walked through the door.

What if something happened? What if he can't call? What if he doesn't care? What if-

You fly to your feet at the sound of the keys jingling and sliding into the lock. With a soft click, the lock turns and the door opens, revealing a rather exhausted-looking Flip Zimmerman. He takes off his coat, tossing it over a chair, and sets down his bags. Even through his tired state, he beams up at you, opening his arms for an embrace.

As you wrap your arms around him slowly, you couldn't stop your hands from trembling. His strong arms envelope you, pulling you to his broad chest. Flip presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"How have you been holding up here all alone?" His baritone voice rumbles.

You pause. Flip had had a long trip. You didn't want to trouble him or bother him with any of your problems. "I'm fine. I missed you, though."

"I missed you too." Flip tilts your chin up and leans in, giving you a gentle kiss. His facial hair tickles your cheek, causing you to break out into a small smile. "Are you sure you're alright? You seem a little off."