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hunnylagoon · 2 months

Text

Candy

PT1: Sober to Death

Ellie Williams x Reader

I’m home and here to stay like a ghost to haunt. You can’t shake me off your back for I linger in your head like carelessly uttered curse. Summer falls to ashes in my mouth and so I will spit them into your urn, just like that all of my devotion turns violent.

Premise: After a mental break you are being held together by nothing but glitter glue and craft yarn. You seek refuge with an old friend in a coastal town to live the life you thought you left behind.

Warnings: SENSITIVE THEMES / reader is a recovered addict / mentions of drug and alcohol abuse / angst / brief mentions of violence / possibly triggering discussions of drug addiction

Read at your own discretion

Inside me, something seethes. Inside me, some feral animal has been forced into a cage where it thrashes and screams. Perhaps I will turn into a snarling wolf and rip out the throats of each girl who made me go home crying in middle school. Maybe I will don the pelt of a sheep and surprise all of those who convinced me it was a good idea to try ketamine when I shed my cloak and reveal my long curled claws and fangs sharp as knives.

I'm heartless at worst and helpless at best.

I don't know how else to be. I was raised like a stick of dynamite lit from both ends and I can describe in detail how the earth warps beneath my feet or how I watch the sky bend until it snaps and collapses onto a body too tired to lift it back up.

Everything miles ahead of what I was, to them, I was only ever an addict. Cursed with the nickname 'popper' since tenth grade and everyone thought it to be nothing more than a joke they didn't know how I found serenity in the tablet of acid that rested on my tongue.

It started with pot and drinking on the weekends then flew into full-blown benders when I swallowed back synthetic sunshine like it was candy. None of my friends thought I would end up with my back plastered on my dorm floor, eyes wide with what once was a bottle of pills frothing out of my mouth.

It took me two overdoses to get here, had to put my white blood cells to work.

"I didn't think you'd be up this early," Joel smiled at me, he was nursing a mug of coffee, a plate in front of him with a half-eaten piece of toast and a golden yoke running onto the porcelain. That might've been my favourite thing about the farm, fresh eggs. Once you have them you can never go back to the sad pale grocery store eggs.

"That makes two of us," I pulled out a chair from the wooden dining table and sat down. Joel had put so much love into this home. These days I’m too nauseous to eat breakfast.

"Ellie doesn't even wake up this early," He took a slug of his black coffee, the scent was strong, filling up the entire house, I could smell it the second I woke up. "How's the room? Is everything to your liking?"

I had felt so guilty for free-loading off Joel whom I hadn't seen since I was twelve, it had been eight years. He sent me cards on my birthday every year but I never was able to grasp how close our parents had been. I'm pretty sure I was friends with Ellie when I was little, there were pictures of the two of us hugging each other and playing beneath sprinklers, my front teeth missing, Ellie covered head to toe in Spider-Man band-aids. I didn't have any recollection of us when we were close, as we got older we got more stiff around each other. When my family would visit, she would hang out with her friends and I would keep to myself. Of course, my parents moved us to the city where everything hit me too hard all at once. "It's perfect, thank you."

"It's pretty hard to peel yourself off that mattress, huh?" Joel smiled at me, showing me every ounce of warmth he had when I was a child.

I nod in response "So much more comfortable than those stiff dorm mattresses," It almost felt like I was making conversation with a ghost.

"Since you're up so early, care for a tour while I do some chores?" He asked. I had been here a few days already, though I just kept to myself I didn't want to impose on his pleasant life with his daughter who hadn't called him at three am sobbing because she had too many opioids. I had wandered briefly around the farm of course and I had remembered bits and pieces of it from my childhood but I felt so out of place that I mainly locked myself inside of my temporary room and lived through my friend's Instagram stories.

"I'd love to," I smile politely, unsure of what else to do.

"Do you think you're gonna go back to school?" Joel asked as he stood up with his plate and mug in hand and began to wash them in the stainless steel sink. "No pressure, there's life outside of a lecture hall."

This was a question I had been thinking about day in and day out. I was a year and then some into getting my degree when my 'fun habits' began spiralling uncontrollably. My parents had managed to snag me a two-year deferral so I could go to rehab and go back to school the following year but I was so full of shame that I shook with the thought of going back. For the first time in my life, I am afraid I have no real desires.

When I was dead inside a motel bathtub, I thought I needed to be somewhere different but now that I'm there, I need to be someone different too. "I'm not really sure right now, just please don't tell my parents I said that."

"Secrets safe with me," He opens a cabinet and pulls out a bag of cat food, shaking it until a scrawny calico cat appears out of thin air. Pepper happily devours the food Joel puts in her little bowl. I remembered Pepper, she was a kitten way back then and I would cut open socks to make clothes for her. "You should just know that it's never too late."

Very early in my life, it was too late. "Thanks, Joel," Not yet a corpse and still I rot like all of my ambitions turn to sludge at my tired feet.

He looks around, exhaling a deep breath, trying to scope out anything else he has to do in the kitchen. "You outta get geared up, I'm gonna wake up Ellie then me and you can get to work."

I nod in agreement even though I'm not sure what he means by 'gear up' so I figure that's just him saying to put on a hoodie and some rain boots. I stand awkwardly by the door, waiting for Joel. Absentmindedly I rock back and forth on my heels hands clasped together. I'm twenty years old but I feel like I'm twelve again, trying to find a place for myself in someone else's life.

I thought of the last time I was in this house. I was twelve, unaware of the future that awaited me, I had buried a time capsule with Ellie and her cousins somewhere on this property. Writing to my future self, talking about all of the things I should be. If only she saw the brain-rotten zombie that was her destiny.

My parents had told everyone back home I was backpacking across Australia and taking a break from academics to see the world. In the eyes of those who knew me well and were more than aware of what happened, it was a shame to them that I had wasted a sharp brain and a pretty face. It takes a whole lot of strength the endure myself.

It doesn't take long for Joel to walk back down the creaky stairs, Ellie trailing behind him, sleep in her eyes. She's in boxers and one of Joel's old t-shirts, hair still messy and unbrushed. Ellie yawns and gives me a little wave- it wasn't really a wave, just her raising a hand in my direction as an acknowledgment.

We hadn't spoken much since I got here, I had met her in the past but we didn't know each other. A lot can change in eight years. She wasn't unfriendly toward me, we indulged in small talk and laughed at each other's jokes but each conversation was so shallow I wanted to lay face down and drown in them.

Ellie goes straight for the fridge, unlike her dad, she pours milk into a sickly sweet cereal which seems cavity-inducing. She was back from college for the summer, taking advantage of her father's love and food. Joel walked over to where I was standing at the door, slipping into his mucking boots. "While you're both here," He says before looking at me "How much do you know about boats?"

I furrow my eyebrows "A good bit I guess?" I answer, figuring he was just trying to rekindle a spark between Ellie and me that had been put out eight years ago by rain, ocean spray, and vodka.

"Y'know, Els," He gestures towards me "This one used to work at her parent's marina, they tell me she's done a couple of repairs and I bet she could give you some pointers on how to fix up that boat." I'm confused by his words, this is the first I've heard about a boat. Joel can see the uncertainty on my face "Her uncle gave her a piece of shit boat last summer before she went back to school, over the year I guess some teenagers thought it was a good hideout and trashed it even more."

"Seriously?" Her head pokes up "It would be great if you could come down with me later, she just needs a little love," Ellie spoons some cereal into her mouth. I had always thought it weird how people spoke about their boats like they were women, I even caught myself doing it on occasion. "Only if you want to, of course."

"Sure," I agree, no idea how much repair this boat was in need of "I've got nothing better to do."

I could tell Joel counted this as a win. I knew he had been commuting with my parents and how desperately they wanted me to keep myself occupied for the summer. "Well, we've got some work to do, kiddo."

After a solid five hours of following Joel around like a duckling and re-learning all the names of the animals, I was walking with Ellie toward her pickup truck. "Wanna drive?" She asks as we walk to the long beaten driveway

"Oh, I can't." The coolness of the morning has ebbed away into a borderline unbearable heat, I wasn't sure how Ellie was absolutely unfazed in her Jeans, T-shirt, and trucker hat.

"You never got your licence?"

"No, it got taken away."

She cracks a grin "Jeez, what did you do? Hit a pedestrian?" Ellie teases.

"Something like that," Truthfully, my licence got revoked after I got a DUI and swerved my car off the highway, I was too high to realize the danger I was in and laughed the entire time warm blood pooled from a gash in my head that had to be stapled shut. Luckily my parents can throw money at anything and the problem will go away.

She hops in the truck, there are little bits and pieces of it that show how it's lived in. A rubber duck with sunglasses sits on the dashboard and I'm partially surprised it hasn't melted in the sweltering heat.

As beautiful and scenic as the drive down to the docks is, it's also extremely awkward, only on my end, Ellie seems completely unfazed. Travelling down the dirt roads until we finally hit the pavement.

The salty breeze of Andromeda Cove carries conversations of clubbing and tanning, mingling with the sweet scent of coconut sunscreen and sea salt. Colourful beach umbrellas dot the shoreline. Seagulls glide effortlessly overhead, their calls blending seamlessly with the distant laughter of beachgoers. Quaint shops and cafes line the bustling boardwalk, offering an array of surfboards, souvenirs, and freshly caught seafood delicacies.

The Cove was immune to those gross and bland modern buildings that looked like something I would've made in Minecraft as a kid. Everything down here was local and kept its charm even after all these years. "Do you ever miss it here?"

"I don't remember much of it to be honest."

"Really?" She asks, taking a turn down to the docks "It doesn't seem like it was that long ago."

"Yeah, my memory just isn't very good." My lungs are burnt and my brain is fried. You could tell me that I was in cheerleading for five years of my life and I would probably believe you.

"Alright."

I hadn't remembered her being this quiet but then again I don't remember much, I should probably write down everything I can before Alzheimer's sets in. There are lapses in my mind where memories should live, I recall my life through glimpses.

Ellie takes her keys out of the ignition and hops out of the truck, leading me down the docks. I keep guessing in my head which boat belongs to her and then the second I spot it, I know and how I dread. It's a sailboat or what's left of one, sharpie graffiti scribbled all around it. The word 'wanderlust' had once been titled along the side though the first half was scratched out by what I assume were those teenagers Joel mentioned so it just said 'lust'.

Ellie had no problem climbing aboard, I on the other hand had doubts that it could support the weight of two people, let alone itself. There were chips of white paint scraped off, Ellie motioned for me to get on deck "How long has this been abandoned?"

She waves me off "There's freedom that comes with abandonment."

I raise an eyebrow "Sinking in a boat that's docked is a very lame way to die."

"Nah," She says "We can haunt the marina."

She holds out her hand for me to take it and with hesitation, I do. Stepping over the gap between the dock and the boat, I haul myself over the rails. Even in the dark, I could make that climb, it was almost like muscle memory from working at my parents marina summer after summer. "She's a beauty, yeah? In her own special kind of way," Ellie pats the side of the companionway. "I actually made some progress on it last summer, if you can believe me."

"I don't know if I can," I look around, following her as we duck into the saloon.

She reaches for a notebook with a pink sharpie clipped onto it on the table of the saloon and turns to face me "Whoever was here must've been a real wordsmith, what I can't figure out is how the words got out of the notebook and onto my walls."

I crawl onto the cushioned V-berth to get a better look at all of the writing on the walls. Most of it had been poetry, not Edgar Allen Poe but the kind that only an angsty teenage girl on the verge of a mental break could've written.

The Statue of Juliette:

May I ask what you have done to women?

That your hands have only learned to harm one

Hand after filthy hand

Is dragged

Groped

Caressed

Prodded

Over my rusted skin

The things I have seen

The things I have endured

No water can clean me

No blanket can warm me

Take a hammer to my bronze flesh

And I will thank you for your kindness

As my body crumbles and clatters against cobblestone

I am eternally grateful

For this is the gentlest act I have ever faced

"I know," Ellie says, and I look back to meet her sharp gaze "A real Sylvia Plath.”

"Is this your candle?" I reach for it on the ground, it's halfway through its life. A vanilla bean bath and bodyworks candle.

She takes it from my hand and gives it a sniff "I was wondering why it smelled so good in here, I just thought that was you." She places the candle back onto the saloon table "So, Neptune's daughter, where should we start?"

I snatch the notebook from the table and flip it open to a page clean of any writing. It takes a little less than fifteen minutes to seek out all of the trouble spots. Ellie followed behind me and nodded to everything that I was saying.

The boat isn't in nearly as bad of condition as I expected. I suspected that the teenagers who occupied it while Ellie was away at college had all been girls, they took relatively good care of the boat aside from the graffiti, allegedly most of the damage had been there when Ellie got it from Tommy a year ago.

We now sat next to each other in the booth around the saloon table, the ocean rocked the boat beneath us ever so gently, the same way a mother would rock her child's cradle. I missed the sea when I was in college, on a bender I had driven three hours just to be back with it, it seemed the only safe place to let go and be reborn. I liked the sharpness of the air, the vastness of the horizon and the mystery beneath it. I thought I would rise from the seafoam a new woman the same way Aphrodite did but no, I threw up on the sandy shores and called my parents to make it go away.

I give the notebook over to Ellie, a new entry written in bright pink Sharpie amongst the poetry and anecdotes.

Wanderlust's issues:

Mainsail and jib seem sketchy; Unfold the hoist for a full assessment

Wiring issues are out of my hands but a probable concern-should probably call in an expert

Nav instruments are cracked

Leaks on starboard window, probs cracked moulding

Interior woodwork is original, mainly solid despite a bit of mildew

Graffiti and chipped paint, graffiti likely cleanable (May need a new coat of paint)

Possible rigging issues

Underside? That's a question for the experts

Final Verdict: Wanderlust is a seaworthy vessel in need of some love

Ellie lets out a low whistle "God, I love a girl who knows the difference between a mainsail and a jib." She cracks a mischievous grin.

"You're teetering very close between sexy and crass," I tease her in return.

She seems a little taken aback by my comment, like she hadn't anticipated a response but ignores it nonetheless "What would it take to make you my first mate?"

"I'm sorry?"

"For someone with a bad memory, you seem to know your boats, Joel said that you used to work on charters. You gotta know more about sailing than me. It'll be a fun summer project, get you out of the house a bit."

I furrow my eyebrows as I look at her "You want me to work on the boat with you?"

Ellie nodded. She didn't rush to fill the silence that stretched between us, she didn't bother to sweeten the deal or hunt for some reason I would like working with her. She just let it stand. I looked her in the eyes, trying to figure her out. She goes from being almost non-verbal with me and now she asks me to spend the summer on a boat with her. I wondered if she knew what she was doing at all and if I would be carrying her through this.

I had a feeling that Ellie would become my next bad habit. It's easy to get addicted when everything interests you and nothing satisfies you. "I'm in."

"You won't regret this," Ellie almost jumps up, I swear I could've seen her making calculations in her head "So, I'm thinking we get rid of all this junk and get a good look at it bare bones, make a list of supplies and give her the spa day shes in desperate need of."

On my second day as first mate, I had been scrubbing away inside of the saloon while Ellie did some work on the exterior, my Scrub Daddy was being put to work. By the time I even made a dent in all of the Sharpie poetry, it was nearly falling apart and begging to be killed.

When I emerged from the companionway to replace my filthy bucket of water I spotted Ellie chatting up a girl on a dock. She had long glossy black hair that cascaded down her back in strategic ringlets. "So you're gonna sail on this thing?"

"Rebuilding her first," Ellie tells her, leaning against the railing. The girl she's speaking to looks like she's freezing, denim shorts cropped high and a white tank top.

"Do you need help?" She smiles and even I'm seduced by it. She has tanned skin that she's clearly been working on and sunglasses pushing back the silky hair from her forehead. "I've been on boats, lots of times," Her arms are crossed over her chest. I can see goosebumps all over her legs from the chill brought to us by the gray sky above and the frigid air.

"That so?" Ellie asks, rising to her full height. A wrench in hand, it looks like the beginning of a really bad movie, not a family-friendly one. She saw me then, standing behind her. I watched her facade drop. Her smile changed as I approached, turning from flirt to friend in two seconds.

"Oh, hey," The black-haired girl regards me like I'm some kind of threat. "So do you need help or what?"

Ellie looks at me and then back to her "Thanks for the offer but we're all set."

"Do you maybe wanna grab lunch or something?" She completely ignores me.

Ellie shakes her head "We've got lots of work to do, but-" She takes a deliberate pause and I almost cringe "I'll probably be at the shipwreck later. Stop by if you're around."

"See ya'," She grins and takes the sunglasses off the top of her head, placing them on the nose bridge before walking back down the dock.

"Wow," I dump my bucket of water over the rail of the boat "Looks like super difficult work out here, you are so brave." Sarcasm drips from my tone "Without you, who will flirt with all of the hot girls at the marina?"

"No need to be jealous," She says "I'm spending every waking minute with you after all."

I gave her the evil eye but I truly wasn't jealous. I didn't chase the thrill of a fling or late nights with girls whom I would forget by morning. I had dropped that by college and replaced it with ketamine and opioids, I abused liquor like I was its two-faced love. Now the only thing I chased was calmness.

I wasn't jealous, just briefly reminiscing over how carefree I used to be.

The tide was rolling and the sky above us was gray and angry as if something was raging within it. "Shit," I mutter, waves shifting from a distant hiss to a closer hush. The air hung heavy, I hadn't even noticed the change in weather from what seemed like the century I spent scrubbing away in the saloon.

Ellie must've noticed what I was. "So, I'm thinking we should go?"

"You think?" I retort.

Moments later we're packed and rushing down the dock to find her truck. It doesn't take long for rain to begin to splatter on the ground beneath us, it isn't light and gentle, it's harsh. It sounds like pebbles being tossed onto a sheet of glass.

By the time we reach the truck, I'm soaked, hair sticking to my forehead and neck "You didn't want to poke your head into the saloon and say 'Hey, it's looking like there's gonna be a storm'?"

"I was a little preoccupied," Ellie isn't much better off than I am, she takes off the flannel she had on top of her tank top and tosses it into the backseat, her tattoo out on full display. The rain is so heavy that everything on the outside of her truck looks like a blur.

"Can you even drive in this?"

"No, can you?"

"No, I told you I have a DUI," The second the words leave my mouth I regret the slip-up. My eyes go wide and a hand slaps over my mouth, I'm acting like I just told her I was the one who took out JFK.

"You didn't tell me that."

"Well," I look forward, ignoring her piercing gaze, "I thought I did."

If not for the rain outside that pounded against the glass as if it wanted to be let in, we would've sat in complete silence while we drowned beneath all of the words going unsaid. My mind begins to wonder, first I think of the black-haired girl at the docks; I hope she didn't get stuck outside in the rain, especially with her lack of clothing. Then I think about what Ellie's thinking, did she know already? Had Joel told her? I'm humiliated all over again like I'd been when the paramedics dragged my half-naked body out of a bathtub.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" She asks. I don't say anything and she takes this as a hint "We don't have to talk about it."

I'm beginning to grow comfortable with the silence. I almost preferred it to the back-and-forth banter Joel and Ellie constantly had, which was more so father and daughter teasing each other.

Joel had probably known more about me than I did, my parents liked to keep him filled in after all. They just loved to keep tabs on me, if it was legal I'm sure they would put cameras behind my retinas and watch my every move. Eight months ago when I was in rehab, that was the most peace I've ever felt. As much as my parents wanted me clean, they held resentment since I ruined my life and was destroying theirs by association. Joel didn't seem like the type to gossip to his daughter but it nagged at me regardless. "Did Joel tell you anything?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just-like," I search through my brain to find the words "Like what I've been up to?"

She shrugged "He just said you are on a deferral and need a break from the city."

"Okay," I say, my voice so quiet it was almost smothered by the obnoxious rain.

"Are you hungry?"

We had thrown on two jackets Ellie had in the back seat of the cars. She offered me Joel's black raincoat while she humbly took the bright yellow rain poncho. It took everything in me not to laugh at her, she looked like Georgie.

Ellie slung one arm around me, we were both hunched over as we ran as fast as we could. She was shouting stuff at me but I couldn't hear her through the rain, I just nodded in agreement and hoped she hadn't said something awful.

She tugged me left, the deluge chasing us into Salty's for cover. It was nearly dead in there, two other tables, one was an elderly couple and the other was a group of girls, laughing like hyenas while one of them showed the others a picture on her phone.

Ellie wasted no time in taking off her poncho and I didn't blame her, no one wanted to be seen in that. The second we settled into a booth by the huge glass window which took up the entire storefront, an over-eager waiter came up. He was tall, had dark hair and had handsome features, he must've been bored with how slow it was in here. "Hey, Jesse," Ellie said "Can I have water and a big-buck burger?"

He nodded and swerved his body to look at me, "Alright and for you-" He looked up from his notepad and paused for a moment before a huge smile cracked on his face "I haven't seen you in so long!"

"Hi," I smiled, my mouth hanging openly awkwardly as I tried to recall him.

"Do you remember me?" He asked, his hand dropping to his side "Jesse," He reminded "We used to go to school together."

I had no idea who he was "Oh my god, yes!" I say "I remember."

His smile grows "God, you look so different."

"You too," I gesture at him "You're way more-" My mind falls flat "Grown."

He nods along to my words "Have you had a chance to look at the menu?"

Wanting this conversation as soon as possible I nod despite not even opening the menu “Yeah, I'll just get the, uh, big-buck and a club soda.” I repeated Ellie's order.

He jots it down onto his notepad "It'll be right up."

"Ellie, I don't know who that is," I say when I see him retreat to the server station to fill in the order. The entire restaurant is nautical-themed, the walls painted black, and there were nets with faux fish covering every square inch of the ceiling.

"Wow, I had no idea," She says, sarcastically "Damn, your memory really is fucked."

Trust me, I know or at least I think I do. I disregard her comment "Water? Don't you wanna get rootbeer or something? Joel said you drink so much soda that your blood is made of corn syrup."

She grins "Gotta keep up the tough guy act."

Across the restaurant one of the girls waves to Ellie, this one has curly brown hair and a sundress "Hi, Ellie!"

Her eyebrows furrow "Hey there-um...you," Ellie said "Good to see you again."

The girl smiles slyly at Ellie before turning back to her friends. "Looks like I'm not the only one forgetting people, what's your excuse?"

"There's a lot of girls in the world, I can't remember all of their names."

"You must've gone through every girl in the cove, power to ya'," I say "No idea you had such a reputation."

"You don't know a lot about me."

I shrug "You know even less about me."

"I bet I could guess."

"Be my guest."

She leans back like she's carefully considering her next words, choosing them very wisely before she finally settles "You picked a major like communications and got bored quickly, decided you needed to do some soul searching. Probably read 'Eat, Prey, Love,' then went on a backpacking trip, expenses paid by your parents. Alternatively, you lived in a van and pretended to be a broke hippie."

I shook my head "Very cliche and you were only right about one thing."

"What?"

"I got bored quickly," The rain outside was failing to cease. Across from me, it looked like Ellie was calculating my every move. Her auburn hair was still wet, and from her hairline, a droplet of water dribbled down onto her button nose to rest on her cupid bow.

"Can I have a hint then?"

"No."

I see a realisation hit her "You partied with frat guys?"

I shook my head "I've always been too cool for them." I wasn't too cool for them, I was too fucked up to even know they were throwing a party until someone verbally informed me, by that point all I've ever done at a frat party was break in through a window and steal a keg like the disgusting fiend I was. It was nothing to be proud of, my friends thought it was hilarious and posted it on their Snapchat stories, egging me on and feeding into this sickening behaviour. What wasn't funny was how I got caught and winded up with a busted lip and broken rib. With pupils the size of my iris, I couldn't feel the pain I was in.

"Okay, now you have to tell me."

"I can't, I lose my mysterious allure."

The bell above the door chimes signalling the arrival of another customer and said customer makes a b-line for our table. She takes a seat next to Ellie "Jesse texted me that you were here.”

"Dina, were you at work?" Ellie furrows her eyebrows.

"Yeah, it's not like anyone's buying souvenirs right now and Jesse told me you finally came back," She whips her head to look over at me.

I genuinely remembered her, unlike Jesse. She had buried the time capsule with Ellie, her family and I. I also recalled how her older sister used to give us hand-me-down clothes. "Dina, hi."

She has freckles scattered across her face the same way that Ellie does. Her smile was so comforting, I forgot that I was soaked to my bones and shivering. "Well we should all do something together tonight," Dina grins "You're doing Ellie a huge favour by helping her fix that rig, she better give you some good head for it."

I almost choke on my saliva while Ellie just groans with disappointment like she had anticipated Dina saying something along those lines "D, you can't say that stuff around every girl I'm with, this is essentially my sister for the summer."

Dina raises her hands in defence "Sorry, my bad, I was unaware since you failed to mention that you have my old friend living with you." Ellie looks like she's going to say something but Dina speaks up again before she has the chance to "Let me give you my number."

Wordlessly, I hand my phone over to Dina who fills out her contact information and then gives my phone right back to me. I study Dina's face and her mannerisms, hoping that something might bring me back to my childhood which has been wiped away by every upper and downer you could put a name to. Something about her seemed familiar, maybe we had been closer friends than I thought.

I nod along to whatever she and Ellie are saying, chiming in random bits of dialogue but my mind is stuck on the two of them side by side. They're what I could've been if my family never moved us away and I hadn't turned my brain into sludge.

The life I could've had.

Ellie smoked from what I knew, maybe Dina or Jesse were into something a little more hardcore. Hardcore? If hardcore qualifies as drowning in a concoction of cough syrup, Vicodin, codeine, and Gatorade to balance out the flavour of self-destruction. The bottles I swallowed to sleep, I showed up to almost every lecture high. Here I was handed what was nearly a good life and I tossed it away for something with a sweeter taste than a stable job and proper education.

The horrors I've committed. No good deed will ever outdo the bad that I have unleashed upon this godforsaken earth. From my clouded brain, paralyzing thoughts come to life to curse myself, the nightmare no mother would wish for her child to endure.

Relapse after relapse, I would fall sick with the thought of how many times I had to relapse until I was finally clean and that bitter flavour washed from my mouth.

"Are you okay?" Dina asks with a smile and furrowed brows "We kind of lost you there."

It's one in the morning and I want to drink wine then slip beneath the rapid waters that will gladly pull me under and claim me as theirs.

Instead, I opt for a class of water. As Dina had said earlier, she wanted to get a bunch of friends together but the second we got home, I showered and locked myself away. Echoes of laughter and chatter drifted through my window.

I slip down the steps that lead to the kitchen. Outside the rain has finally dissipated and Ellie, Dina, Jesse, along with a handful of people I don't know crowd around a bonfire. The kitchen is illuminated only by moonlight, the moon hung over me as I poured myself water from the tap, a dead thing over a dying thing.

I have seafoam in my veins and centuries-passed sunshine that induces my craving for some pills that will put me to sleep. Three months completely clean and yet that doesn't end the yearning for the drugs that comforted me more than any human ever had.

The door cracks open and in comes Ellie, she's laughing and from the uncontrollable giggles, drowsy gaze, and slightly disoriented walking I can tell that she's been smoking. "Hey," She smiles at me, reaching passed me to grab a mug with Garfield on the front and fill it with water but she doesn't take a sip, she just sits it down on the counter behind us and stares at me.

Our faces only inches apart, I contemplate her next move. This close I can smell the marijuana on her and I almost want to scuttle upstairs and light a candle. Ellie hugs me, wrapping her arms around my midriff and letting her head find its resting place in the crook of my neck "Are you okay?"

"Mhm" She hums "I'm just glad you're here, whatever the circumstances are, I'm happy that you're helping me with the boat," I'm carrying almost her full way, and she's slouched against me "I love you man, I know you don't remember a lot from when we were kids but we had a lot of fun together."

"Thanks, Ellie," I give her a little pat on the back "That's really nice of you."

She peels herself away from me, using the counter to lean against instead. She looks me up and down, having an intense staring contest with my pyjamas "Do you wanna come out and smoke with everyone?" She's shed her tank top and thrown over a gray hoodie to shroud her from the oncoming cold.

I shake my head, no "I don't mess with that stuff."

"That's smart," She says "Have fun in your room, stowaway, I'll see you tomorrow to work on our boat," With that Ellie leaves without grabbing the Garfield mug she came in here for.

A/N: Hey, y’all. I’m aware I have a million open docs, I assure you they are all getting some love but I needed to come back to my roots and write some angst. These are some issues I have struggled with and I feel that it’s important to bring attention to it so it’s not taboo.

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skxllz · 5 months

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let me tell y'all what pisses me off about the shameless fandom.

people constantly downplay my man lip. “ he's an asshole ”, “ he's way too harsh on fiona ”, “ he dragged fiona down but then got an alcohol addiction ”

like let me sit y'all down in several seats, cause y'all play an emotional hand instead of the logical one when it comes to lip. lip is a LOGICAL thinker, which is why the last thing he's gonna think about is babying a grown ass woman or man when they're in the wrong.

I can admit, lip can be a dick. but when it came to him putting fiona in her place? he was in the right.

“ give her a break she's raised 6 kids since she was 9 ” lip may have been late to the party, but he also stepped up in that matter. did you forget what Ian said? lip was the only one that cared enough to find his toy at the age of fucking seven, SEVEN- walked over 80 miles to and back just to get that damn toy, called the police and everything cause he cared about his brother. fiona is not the only one that took care of them, she was just the oldest and understood more so she was forced to take on the mother role.

secondly, let's not forget fiona almost killed liam. “ it was an accident ” why should a grown ass woman be told to watch HER drugs when a child is in the same house? why would she even have them in the same house as him? she shouldn't have.

and the scene where the food burned really bad to where the house smoked up cause she was drinking. lip was NOT wrong to think of his siblings first. he stepped up, just like fiona had time and time again with her parents. but he's wrong, right? cuase it's his sister and he should fucking feel bad? cry me a river.

as for him getting addicted, he had no choice in the matter. addiction is NOT a choice especially if it runs in family genes, you're more prone to following in their steps because of that. lip and fiona both were put in shitty positions because of their parents and living situation which is why they went down dark paths. In the end though, they both made it out. maybe fiona was after lip, but she STILL got addicted to alcohol like he did and used drugs, yet I see no one inputting that information in anywhere.

lip witnessed his father drink and do drugs; he witnessed his mother do drugs, downfall from bipolar disorder and then up and ditch them like it was nothing. he then watched his sister fall into the same pattern, along with witnessed his younger brother go through the same shit his mother did. do not fault him for living through some traumatic ass shit.

I'm ending it with this statement; before you judge someone, put yourself in their shoes. lip may be a fictional character, but he was very much put as a reflection to a real person that lives through that shit every day.

#shameless #lip gallagher #shameless us

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dumbsoftheart · 4 months

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erysichthon’s punishment, 2

pairing: eater!peter parker x f!eater!reader

tags: dead dove, do not eat: themes of cannibalism, violence, 18+ only, eventual smut, angstttt, blonde peter parker, drug use, mentions of panic attacks, swearing, manipulation, lots of mentions of blood, so much yearning its painful

summary: “i want you to eat me, angel, bones and all” two young cannibals meet in the midwest, fall in love, find struggles along the way.

notes: oh these two losers are hopeless!

word count: 4.8k

౨ׅৎ

peter had no intention of adding a member to his solo-party when he woke up that morning. solitude suited him; it was a choice he made and told himself that it made his life easier, bearable. he’d given up on trying to establish himself within society when he was 13. his aunt and uncle were oblivious to his condition- he learned quickly when he was 5 that something was deeply wrong with him after a particularly bad fight on his school’s playground. he didn't like to ruminate on the memories. it brought back that painstaking feeling he felt when he was 15, watching his uncle ben console his aunt may in a mess of tears and distress. he figured it was best to leave, before he hurt someone. he couldn’t live with himself if he hurt them.

he left his home with little to nothing: a few clothes, his dads glasses, a token from his mother, a picture of his aunt and uncle- and taken the first train out of new york, whatever was cheapest. he can't recall what state he had ended up in, too busy fighting tears as he beat himself up for the curse of depravation that knawed at him constantly. he was tantalus, ostracised into an eternity of thirst and hunger because of the selfishness than ran deep in his psyche. he’d pick fights with men twice his size often, at that age, knowing he’d lose. it was a tumultuous mix of self-inflicted punishment, desperate need for penance for causing pain to those he loved, for abandoning without a trace; for indulging, for the first time in his life, in his most shameful desires.

his first time, he was in georgia. it was his birthday. he’d managed to make some pocket money working for an old couple and their granddaughter tending to household chores and yardwork. it was so much different than his life back home, the quiet midwestern landscape made him long for the neverending hustle and bustle he had grown familiar to. the couple reminded him of his uncle ben and aunt may, and while he found it painful, he liked to imagine that they were his aunt and uncle, living a happy life and raising a happy, normal child. he’d never get too close to them, only watch them from afar as he completed his work, and he’d fantasise that it was him they were eating lunch and playing games with. they never seemed to question where he had come from, or how he always found time for work, never in school- and a deep part of him wanted them to care. to pick and prod for answers he didn’t want to give, so he could bask in the nagging and questioning as if it were his beloved guardians pestering him out of love. he wanted to feel like a boy again.

peter hadn’t been a boy anymore for a while, his escape forced him to mature faster than he probably should have. he’d forced himself into the idea that he was now a man, and there was no escaping in; no indulging in childlike pleasures or wonder. he was now in the real world, alone, and he found no time for it. things that made him feel callow and juvenile peeved him, and he avoided it at all costs. he didnt have a home, unlike what he told his employers. he lived near a dumpster, with a makeshift home founded with tattered old clothes he’d stolen off of clotheslines, hidden craftily from sight for when it got dark enough. sometimes, on the weekends, when drunks and addicts would find their way down the alley he’d nested in, he’d cry silently, praying to whatever god there was that they’d leave quickly, and he’d remain hidden. that evening, he walked home with an abnormally hefty bonus, an undeserving birthday gift he’d been given before leaving his work- when he was pulled aside by a scarily thin and sunken girl. she was older than him, no doubt, about 19, and she made an excited effort to pull him aside with the promise of a surprise he couldn't miss, whisking him away before he could answer. when she’d brought him down an unfamiliar alleyway, he fought the urge to throw up.

it was dark, save for the old and dim flashlight the girl carried with her. it smelled of rotten meat and sewage. hidden under a pile of old blankets and quilts, she uncovered the body of a man, couldn't have been older than 35. pieces of his abdomen, shoulders, neck, and legs were amiss, hacked away carelessly by a dull knife. what had really disturbed peter was that the man was still alive; breathing shakily, pale and sweaty. his once clean and well fitted suit had been shredded in various areas, carelessly torn at and blood stained. he couldn't speak, no doubt from the pain he was in. some of his wounds seemed much older than the others.

“he’s about to die. normally we’d eat as much of them as we can when they’re fresh, but i’m livin’ on what i've got left. he wasn't a good person, if it makes you feel better.”

peter was sick. he’d tried to run away, but she stopped him. what shook him the most was how eerily kind the girl was, as if she was earnestly trying to help him. you need to feed, is what she had told him as she cut away at his chest, handing him a bloodied chunk of dirty flesh and muscle. he couldn't find it in him to do it, staring at the pleading man as life drained from his eyes. he couldn’t do it, no matter how delicious he smelled, the man's sweet red ambrosia dripping down his fingertips. it was like it was taunting him, the way it slipped through his fingers and onto the hard pavement. eventually, the girl guided the piece of meat into peter's mouth, urging him to ignore his internal protests and just chew.

now, he was about the same age as the girl- charlotte, her name was. he couldn’t forget her. he blamed her for the person he’d become: a guiltless, ravenous, murderous monster. he’d only actually killed a few people with his own hands a scattered amount of times; out of desperation and famine, yet he remained unyielding at the prospect that he was cold-blooded murderer. he hated her, almost as much as he hated himself. she was the serpent, and he was eve; leading him towards temptation. the irony wasn’t lost on him, that now he was the serpent, and the girl next to him in his stolen green ford was now his eve. he’d regretted the words as soon as he said it. i can help you. it left his mouth before he could think, too busy thinking of a way to get her to stay by his side a little longer. she was beautiful, no doubt, but she possessed a certain innocence that peter felt he needed in his life. he convinced himself that in doing this he wouldn't be robbing her of that innocence, but instead he could learn from it. he wanted to get drunk off it, its rarity was intoxicating to him. if she was his last drink of water, he’d savour it; worship it, do everything in his power to keep it as pure and fresh for as long as he can. help, he had said. how, in the already cruel and messed up world they lived in, could he justify this as help? it upset him how his notion of helping her was ultimately exposing her to the same state of self-loathing and hatred that he harboured.

angel, he called her. she was still adamant on not giving him her real name, and he decided he didn't care. it was easier that way. easier for him to mould her into what he craved. he could pick apart everything he eventually learned about her, and paste it onto the girl he wanted her to be- what he wished he could have with her. he looked at her, her hair whipping in the wind as she rested her chin on the window, her knees tucked into her chest. he could just barely hear her humming foreign melodies under her breath, and in the rear-view mirror he watched her eyes childishly dart back and forth across the empty landscape they sped through. he yearned to connect with her. he wanted to bridge the gap between them, to engage in honest conversation without the weight of what he was about to do crushing him. he almost wanted to turn the car around and drop her off at the nearest train station, apologise for the inconvenience, and bid goodbye. the voice in his head nagged at him to let the dove free, and just hold onto the memory of it.

she spoke first, “i don't want to hurt anybody.” it pained him. he cursed at himself for feeling attached to her, or giving a shit about her feelings. what was it to him? he didn't know her- hell, he couldn't even get her to give him her name. he scoffed at himself, and she turned to look at him with quizzical eyes, her lips pressed together as if deciding whether or not the action was laced with malice. he kept his eyes on the road, unable to look at her. “famous last words.”

she let out a humourless laugh, turning back to the world outside her window. he wanted to apologise. for what, he wasn't sure of yet. for changing her life forever, maybe. or maybe for acting so cold despite his previous kindness. truth was, he felt shy now. he was always quick with witty remarks and jokes, but he found he failed at reaching out to people, a consequence of his solitude. he opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it. his mental turmoil was clearly getting to him, as he considered just taking her someplace else, saving his ‘lessons’ for another night.

“i won't force you to do anything you don't want to,” he finally spoke. she hummed in response, turning to kick up heer feet on the dashboard, elbow resting on the console and nestling her head onto her palm. they seemed to have been driving a while, and she wondered where he was taking her. she was nervous, to put it lightly. she had a vague idea of what he meant when he said he’d help her, but she didn't want to think about it much. she tried to put her mind on autopilot, instead focusing on the vast expanse of land before her. she counted cows, sheep, stray dogs, and made up songs in her head. the one thing she couldn't shake off her mind, however, was his smell. she understood now what he meant when he said he could smell her. it was a warm, musky scent. different from anything she’d ever smelt before. she silently basked in it, relishing its comfort. one of her own. someone who understood her. it was rare, and she welcomed the feeling. she kept her eyes on the road now, mimicking him. in the corner of her eye, she saw his slender fingers drum on the steering wheel anxiously, making a turn into the driveway of a small, white house. the porch was old and rotting away, stray pieces of plywood laziness hammered on to hide the mess suggested it was falling apart- but it seemed homely, if not abandoned. he turned the car off and stepped out.

“stay here,” he ordered. not rough, more like a gentle warning. she watched him saunter off towards the front door, flinching at how loudly he’d knocked. a tall, scruff man greeted him, and he didn't seem very happy to see the lanky boy at his doorstep. he began to yell, grabbing peter by the collar of his shirt and shaking him violently. she felt herself shrink into her carseat, fear enveloping her senses. she worried that by accepting peters offer she’d somehow put him in some kind of danger, and she didn’t want to find out what would happen had the man discovered she was with him. she couldn't make out exactly what they were saying, but she caught a glimpse of that same mischievous smile from earlier as peter slipped his way into the house.

too much time passed, and she grew worried. she also noted how much quieter the house seemed, and she began to panic, the reality of what was happening finally dawning on her. she hurriedly climbed out of the truck, scrambling her way to the door. with balled fists at her sides, she called peters name. no response. then, shouting- and then a pained scream from the man from before, followed by a loud tumble and a harsh crack against the hardwood floor. she twisted the doorknob before she could think about it, and as she swung the door open she bit back a scream.

peter was standing at the top of the stairs, fists clenched and spattered with blood. he looked as if he’d taken a few nasty hits to his face, his cheek oozing slightly with a bruised gnash that met his jawline.

“what did you do?” her eyes were wide with horror, shaking as she shut the door behind her and kneeled beside the man on the floor. there was blood, so much blood, pooling from behind his head and bubbling out of his mouth with choked gasps. she looked up at peter who was now crouched beside her, eyes dark and unreadable. he chewed on the inside of his cheek before standing up, keeping his gaze on the man on the floor.

“owed me money. bastard was too drunk or high to make it down the stairs properly.”

was that what he was going with? she felt rage bubble up inside of her, but she couldn’t find a justification for it. she knew exactly what was going to happen. she knew exactly what peter was going to train her to become. and yet, she had a shred of hope that it would be less heartless, even if she didn't exactly know how. she shook her head, standing up to meet him. they stared at each other intensely, his jaw ticking and her teeth clenched.

“i didn’t push him.”

“like thats believable.”

a beat, and then he turned towards the kitchen, “i didn’t”. she felt her eyes well up with tears, trying to ignore the gargling sound coming from the man on the floor behind her. she heard the tap turn on, and then water rush as peter washed his hands, hissing at the stings from the scratches and bruises that began to form on him. he turned to face her again, and crossed his arms as he pointed his chin at the dying man before them,

“go on.”

the tears began to fall then, and his face softened. he made his way towards her, gently bringing her down to the floor onto her knees. she couldn't stop crying, and he felt guilt swell in his chest. he knew it wouldn't be easy for her, and he hated that he was ultimately the reason for her crying.

she shook her head violently, “i cant.” the choked words were small in her throat, and he heard him sigh next to her. at that moment, he regretted everything that lead him up to this point. he watched the shaking girl reach for the man, taking his face in her hands and whisper sobs of apology. peter climbed over to the opposite side of her, and reached to close his eyes. her eyes squeezed shut, as if to shield herself from what she anticipated was his next move. she felt as if she was going to pass out. the smell of blood was calling to her, and she pushed away her desire to bend over and taste the metallic liquid that now seeped onto her baby-blue dress. she heard the gorey sound of flesh ripping, and she sobbed harder. peter was next to her, now. she could smell him, and it mixed with the smell of the blood in a way that was all too overcoming. she felt him pull her down onto his lap, cooing in her ear and soothing her. when she looked at him, his face was dripping with blood, and she fought back the way it made her want to scream and kick her way out of his loose grasp. she wanted to hurt peter for hurting this man- it didn't matter to her what he may have done to him, but she knew that her brain simply couldn't process the truth behind what was happening before her, and her only sense of respite required her to push the blame onto someone; even if the blame was partially on her. bloodied hands caressed her head, and she watched as the other presented a large, meaty chunky of muscle. she shook her head again, her breath quickening.

“just eat, angel. dont think about it. just eat.”

he urged the piece of flesh towards her mouth and she clutched her chest as she felt her sobs wrack her body once again. the way he whispered it softly in her ear, and his small breaths down her neck- his smell mingling with the aroma that radiated off the lump off flesh in front of her- it begged her to shove down any moral compass she had and feast. she wanted more than anything in that moment to let go and indulge in what was being offered to her. she heard quiet sniffles behind her, and she inhaled deeply as she tried to regain her composure, wailing quietly in peters arms.

peter felt like the worst person in the world. as he sat there, cradling her frail body, all he saw was himself. he had now become the serpent, urging his eve to take a bite into the forbidden fruit. he’d become the person he hated the most, now, and the thought of it broke him. he tried to keep himself quiet, for her sake, whispering into her hair what he knew to be true.

you’ll feel better, angel, i promise. just eat. i promise it’s okay.

he watched her open her mouth ever so slightly, and he moved the meat closer. she bit through the muscle in tears, the salt wetness sliding down peters hands and washing away small fragments of blood along with it. she had never felt more conflicted. finally, she had satiated that undying hunger within her, and it felt so good. she almost moaned with the relief of it, savouring the way the blood trickled down her neck and gushed over her cheeks. her head spun- peter whispering words of praise behind her only made the moment feel more relieving. it’s okay, he chanted, and it really did make her feel okay. in those two words, she understood everything he was struggling to tell her. it’s okay, i understand. i know how it hurts and feels so good.

he pulled her up with him, his fingers lingering on hers for a moment too long. she looked up at him, eyes glassy and red. he cradled her face and urged her to keep going.

and she did.

౨ׅৎ

“you should go shower. i’ll deal with this.”

he had locked all the doors, lead her upstairs into the empty bedroom and laid out a large shirt and a pair of jean shorts he’d found in the closet. she didn't dare question who they might belong to, knowing that it would ruin her again. the room was small, disgustingly brown, and reeked of weed and cigarettes. there was no semblance of belonging or personality to it- it felt as if the person who has inhabited it only rotted away in it their whole life.

she stood watching herself in front of the full length mirror next to the bed. she’d stripped, left only in her cotton underwear and her bra. her fingers fell to her lips, tracing the stream of blood that led down her neck, shoulders, and in between the valley of her breasts. she dragged her nail down her abdomen and stopped at her bellybutton, admiring the way the blood that stained her skin complimented her so well. by now, she’d simply come to terms with it. she had known it all along. her father knew it, she knew it, and she could no longer hide from it. she thought about peter, and how gentle he had been with her. there was a mutual understanding between the two that they both hated this part of themselves, but he made her feel better about coming to terms with it. when she watched him feed with her, she noted how careful he was. she could sense a hint of shame in the way he went about it, despite the way he wiped his mouth unabashedly on the collar of his cotton shirt.

a small part of her found it attractive.

she heard a small cough come from the doorway behind her, and she turned quickly. peter seemed unphased by her near-nakedness, but she couldn't see how it woke something within him. she was truly beautiful, he thought, and it took every bit of strength in him to keep his eyes off of her body and meet her gaze. he was shirtless, and covered in blood, and she felt her breath hitch slightly at the sight.

“if you wont shower, i will. you can have the bed, i’ll take the couch,” he turned towards the bathroom quickly, and she turned her gaze back to herself as she tried to ignore the sound of the shower running and the way she could see a sliver of his body through the crack of the door in the mirror, the way his muscles flexed and relaxed. she could see the litter of scars and bruises on his stomach, and part of her ached to tend to them. she busied herself by attempting to scrub off the blood on her arms in the bathroom she found a room over, waiting for him to finish so she could feel like she could breathe again, and sort herself out. she refused to think about what she had done before, instead focusing on the quiet breeze outside and faint chirping of birds. she wanted to cry again, and she wasn't sure as to why. she’d spent an ample amount of time scrubbing the red off of her arms, now focused on the dried substance clinging to her cuticles. she picked at them desperately, sniffling as she did so. it wouldn't go away, and she felt hopeless.

she thought about her mother, and whether or not she knew of her daughter's ailment, and if that is what had driven her insane. she remembered the way she’d scream at her over the most trivial things when she was little, the way she’d pick at her fingers until they’d bleed incessantly, and they’d rush her younger self out of the room as they cleaned the mess up. part of her longed to see her again. she needed to know if her mother was driven away by her, and not her father, or the inevitability of mental illness that ran in her family, unlike what he recounted. was she like her, perhaps? driven to madness by a hunger that can’t be settled? and if so, was that her inevitable fate? to be pulled into a world of insanity, locked away into a hospital in chains and sentenced to a life of self-reflection and loathing? she wasn't sure if she wanted to know. peter appeared behind her again, this time clean and dressed. she rushed past him and straight to the shower, aching to scrub her sins off of her flesh until she burned.

peter ran a shaky hand through his faux-blonde locks. he wanted to speak to her, know what she was thinking, what she thought of him, but he couldn't figure out where to start. he’d never felt guilty about killing sacks of shit before, but he did now. not because he found an ounce of sympathy for the thieving crook, but because he worried the girl would see him differently now. a killer, even though he wasn't lying when he said he hadn't pushed the man down the stairs. he had a different plan entirely. he knew she didn't believe him, and it killed him inside. he had a need for her to see him as good. he knew she was good, he was convinced of it. a good natured, tender-hearted girl. a sweet girl, that he desperately wanted to find a home in. neither of them belonged in this world. he wanted to shelter her from it, keep her safe from anything that might distress her. he wanted her to want to find solace in him as much as he craved to find it in her. he waited until he heard the shower shut off and knocked at her door, waiting until she gave him permission before he entered.

she looked impossibly small in the shirt he gave her, and the way her arms and face ached red from rubbing away at her skin with the rough washcloth made him want to hold her as he did before. he wanted to guide her into the bed, back pressed against his chest and let her fall asleep in his arms. he knew he couldn't. he didn't know what was happening to him, but he felt the inescapable desire to take care of her. he thought of his best friend harry, and how he’d ridicule him over the fact. him and harry couldn't be any more different, but he missed the boy nonetheless. he wondered if he could take her to meet him.

she rubbed her arms self-consciously at the way he stared at her, and he cleared his throat awkwardly, “i’m, uh, gonna be downstairs, if you need anything, just let me know.” she only nodded. she hadn't said a word to him in over an hour, and even though she knew she wanted to speak to him, she didn't know about what. instead, she climbed into the bed and watched as he shut the door behind him. her legs drew up to her chest and she let her head fall onto her knees. lock the door, she thought. she had grown to trust him only a miniscule amount in their short amount of time together, but she knew she should go the extra mile just to be safe. she stood up slowly, making her way to the door. she stopped for a second, her fingers lingering on the lock.

she didn't know that peter was on the opposite side of the door, fingers lightly pressed against the wood. his breathing was even, and his head fell in self-disappointment. a voice inside his head, a persistent whisper, urged him to break the barrier of silence between them. talk to her, it pleaded, yet he remained rooted where he stood in uncertainty, the weight of his unspoken thoughts fueling his inexplicable yearning for her.

she picked at her fingers again, “i should talk to him,” backing away from the door ever so slightly as she pondered on the idea. she felt at a loss; simply too much had happened in too little time, and she felt exhaustion weigh down at her. she stood there for a while, feet shuffling with unease, and peter made his way downstairs.

peter navigated the unfamiliar surroundings with a sense of disquietude. each step he took felt heavier, burdened by the weight of unresolved tensions. his thoughts circled back to the closed door upstairs, a metaphorical barrier he couldn't bring himself to cross. he wandered aimlessly in the dimly lit room, the desire to reach out, clashed with the fear of rejection, created an internal struggle that mirrored the one unfolding upstairs.

the sound of a creaking floorboard broke the silence. it was her, retreating to the bed. he paused, the echo of her steps reverberating in the quiet house. for a fleeting moment, he contemplated returning to her door, but he remained now sat on the couch, his leg bouncing with anxiety as he chewed at his fingernails. the distance between them felt immeasurable, each lost in their own labyrinth of thoughts and emotions. the longing for communication lingered, a silent plea that hung heavy in the air- and he felt suffocated. he gripped at his hair harshly, letting out a pained groan as he tried to ground himself and his emotions. he hated feeling so lost, it made him feel like a boy again. he hated that feeling. he thought about how he could open up the gap between them to talk to her, show that his intentions are that of kindness.

he fell asleep with his body half-off the couch before he could come to a conclusion.

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@dumbsoftheart, 2023

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #bones and all #peter parker fic

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novankenn · 5 months

Text

2am (Chp 9) -Edited/Retcon

--== Table of Contents ==--

A/N - MATURE CONTENT & TRIGGER WARNING. Contains depictions/descriptions to the over the indulgence of alcohol, drug use, sexual acts. Contains depictions/descriptions of severe depression, self-harm. Skip this chapter if these are uncomfortable topics for you.

This is NOT intended as smut or erotica, so if you're looking for that... go somewhere else.

/=====/

Jaune sat in the locker room of “the Fall School of Combat Arts.” He was half dressed for his training session, and was obviously in deep thought. His sneakers sat untied on the floor before him, beside him could be found his weight belt, lifting straps, towel and water bottle. He was leaned over, elbow on his knees, his hands clasped together before him.

Ever since last night, seeing Pyrrha again, he had been suffering. Old memories he thought buried and forgotten surged back. Inundating him in the quiet hours of the night. He knew the signs of what was happening to him. Standing up, he moved to his locker and pulled out his scroll.

He went through his contacts, looking for a very specific one. It was after he was granted sole custody of Az, and he began to really find out how badly Pyrrha’s addiction was getting, and what it was allowing others to do to her… he had fallen apart. His finger hovered over the call icon, as his eyes wandered towards the thin raised white lines that cross crossed his forearm.

It had started small, done out of sight of everyone, especially Azalea. The pain dulled the anger, let him focus on his life, and what he needed to do for his daughter. For a time it worked… until it didn’t.

“You're enjoying being at grandma’s. Are you behaving, and having fun?” Jaune asked during a scroll call to his Az who was spending the weekend with Pyrrha’s mom. He chuckled at her animate response and almost broke down when he heard her say those three special words. “I love you too, sweetie.”

After the call disconnected, he closed the phone application and opened the messenger application. His chest heaved as he looked at the message he had gotten from Pyrrha two nights ago. It had a large video attached to it. His mind screamed at him to not do what he was going to do. He couldn’t help it… he just needed to see, needed to know.

The message was not sent by Pyrrha, considering the dismissive and insulting text of the previous and fallowing messages associated with the video file. It was like so many other times. Pyrrha either left her scroll unlocked or was talked into unlocking it. With a shaking thumb, he tapped the file.

“Oh, look at her! Fuck, she’s a dirty drugged up whore!” Jaune’s heart broke as he watched the mother of his child, having her face pushed into lines of white powder on the stomach of another nude woman. It was a man’s voice in the background. “We should do it, you know? We should… this slut won’t do a fuck thing to stop us.”

“You like my man’s fat cock? Is it better than your cuck of a baby-daddy?”

“Ummmm… huh… ah?” Pyrrha slurred, it was obvious to anyone watching that she was drugged up out of her mind, and barely coherent,

“You want it some more? You want it up that tight fuck hole of an ass?”

“No… uhhhh… no…” Pyrrha’s eyes had just about rolled back into her head, and she was only staying upright due to the grip on her hair.

“He’s going to ream that prissy, privileged ass…” the woman’s voice snapped as her hand joined the man’s and naked Pyrrha’s head backwards savagely.

“Ahhhh… uhhhh…” Pyrrha groaned, weaving on her knees, her shoulders slack.

“Hit the fucking bitch! Wake her up!” snarled the woman. “You're nothing but a used up has been… a piece of slut trash!”

The slap was when he shut the video off.

/=====/

A/N - This chapter was another ROUGH one to do (for personal reasons as well as creative)... it's not happy or wholesome, and shows a darkness to Pyrrha's impulsive actions. This will be the final real depiction of how far and messed up Pyrrha's life had become due to her addictions.If I didn't need these few chapters to show the depth of struggle for Jaune and Pyrrha... then I would have completely avoided doing them... but I NEED them to get to the ending I want. So my apologizes if these are making this story unpalatable.

/=====/

A/N - This chapter was another ROUGH one to do (for personal reasons as well as creative)... it's not happy or wholesome, and shows a darkness to Pyrrha's impulsive actions. This will be the final real depiction of how far and messed up Pyrrha's life had become due to her addictions. If I didn't need these few chapters to show the depth of struggle for Jaune and Pyrrha... then I would have completely avoided doing them... but I NEED them to get to the ending I want. So my apologizes if these are making this story unpalatable.

/=====/ Okay.. I did a "retcon" on this chapter. It has not be obvious to readers that Pyrrha is a victim of her addition and those that have taken advantage of it. She is NOT out to "cuck/ntr" Jaune. Did this encounter happen... yes... but is was too into the"ntr/cuck" side of things... and I NEEDED to make it obvious that she wasn't really an active or consenting participant.

#2am #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #azelea arc #No Fall of Beacon #jaune and pyrrha had a child #implied PAST arkos #jaune arc x reese chloris #skater boi

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captcaine · 2 years

Text

To Be Without Humanity

Just a quick little Riventrix drabble

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41393142

Beatrix used to be able to feel the electricity all the time. Starting at the tips of her fingers, then traveling up her arms and all around her body. No matter what she would do, the feeling was always there.

Growing up, Beatrix learned control in the corner of a dark room. She was alone with Andreas, instructed to hunch over and read endless pages of books about magic and ways to control it. He would stare, his mind was always a million miles away and she remembered wondering what he was always thinking about. Now that she’s older, she can assume he was thinking about Sky - the perfect son. The one who would’ve grown up to be the warrior shaped in his father’s image. Instead, he got the orphaned girl who lacked control and grace.

She uses the term ‘dad’ loosely. Because what else would she call him? He was the man who raised her, fed her, showed her how to control her powers and did everything a parent was supposed to do except love their child. She remembers how hollow his eyes used to be, always staring back at her after every attempt to please him. He would nod his head slowly and she would move onto the next task at hand. Now that he’s back from the dead and in front of his son, she can see the specks of light dancing in his eyes. Jealousy and rage shoots through her body every time she sees them.

Beatrix would never admit it, but between his nonchalant attitude and the way he brushed her off when she wanted to make him happy, it tore her apart. Always trying to be the perfect daughter to a father who never said the words. Who never once uttered the word ‘daughter’ when speaking of her.

They would sit there for hours and hours and Andreas would lecture her on controlling her emotions to be able to control the magic inside of her. The lectures never worked, but one day they did. She was able to control it all by focusing on the feeling of loneliness and isolation. As she grew up, the loneliness and isolation turned into rage and bitterness. She was a young girl, angry at the world for taking away the family she never met.

She meets Riven in a careless act to break into Dowling’s office. He was cute and rigid and seemed to be an easy target to dispose of in the event the plan didn’t work and she needed a fall guy. She didn’t expect to be on top of him that same day, fingers running through his hair as he placed sloppy kisses down her neck.

Every day after, they stuck together like Bonnie and Clyde - except he didn’t know how truly dangerous it was to be associated with her. He was an escape for her, oftentimes she’d find herself forgetting about the mission in order to spend time with him - sneaking out to the rooftops or to their secret spot past the barrier. He was a shot of adrenaline, always keeping her on her toes and it was exhilarating and addicting.

Beatrix could easily forget about her mission - everyone was miles away from her, unable to truly watch her every move so why not take the time and spend it with Riven? His strong arms wrapped around her as she spent countless nights under the sheets of his bed with his t-shirts on. His soft snores were in sync to the rise and fall of her chest as she moved closer to him, leaving no room for space.

Things changed quickly once Rosalind and Andreas were physically at the school. Classes were harder, fairy and specialist training was brutal and longer, but they always made time for each other. Pushing her father towards Sky allowed her enough time to sneak away from his watchful eye and into Riven’s arms. Their adventures were exhilarating, running around and away from everyone to spend time together, whispering ‘I love you’ between kisses.The feeling became a drug to her and she was completely hooked - how much of Riven’s love could she take before completely losing control of her powers?

She didn’t notice it at first. It was sparks of lightning missing its target or random wisps of wind pushing against her. The more in touch she became with her positive emotions, the more she lost the feeling of electricity in her body.

Training had become harder and hiding the part where she couldn’t control her powers was starting to become more obvious to Andreas. Relying on physical combat to be able to beat her opponents during combat training or missing class whenever she caught word they were going to be near the stone circle. Beatrix tried to distance herself from Riven, maybe being away from him would allow her to focus on anything except for him, but her thoughts were always occupied with their moments together.

Beatrix reaches out to Stella in a dark corner of the library. She quickly gets to the point and demands to know how Stella controls her powers after she, like Beatrix, spent her life drawing from the negative moments. Stella smiles and uncharacteristically helps her, mentioning remedies and books to allow her new methods of control that have nothing to do with emotions. Beatrix nods and hurriedly walks away, not before Stella mentions the way Beatrix looks at Riven and if she wants to continue to hide their romance from Andreas to not continue to look at Riven like a ‘lovesick puppy’. Beatrix rolls her eyes, a small smile tugs on her lips.

She buries herself in the pages of the books and tries all kinds of new remedies in order to help. Frankly, nothing works and for the first time she considers giving up. Because given a choice between Riven and the loss of humanity that comes with regaining control of her powers, she knows that she would always choose the boy who never fails to make her feel loved.

A few days pass, before she receives a private visit from Andreas and Rosalind with the pair mentioning her loss of control and her failure to show up to classes. She brushes it off and pretends that she’s been sick for a few weeks - something light that would pass in the next few days. Beatrix doesn’t catch Andreas’s eyes briefly reading a page from the wide open book behind her.

Suddenly, Riven starts to complain of extra patrol shifts being thrown at him out of nowhere and being paired to spar with students three times his weight. Between Andreas always playing favorites with Sky and the lack of threats in Alfea, he has a feeling in his gut that her father knows about them. His bruised face finds a pillow in her thigh as she plays with the curls on his head until he falls asleep.

The next day, she receives a vague text from her father to meet him in Rosalind’s office before classes start for the day. Reluctantly, she pulls herself away from the safety of Riven’s arms and quickly changes and heads to her office.

The office is empty when she arrives, then an arm grabs her from behind, twisting a familiar steel around one of her wrists. She barely catches a glimpse of Andreas, before he pushes a syringe into her neck and darkness takes over.

She doesn’t know if it's days or hours later when she wakes up. The world is fuzzy around her and she’s slumped against a couch in the corner or Rosalind’s office. She feels tingly and numb. Strangely, her emotions are compressed and diluted. The rage that she expects to rise from her chest never comes.

Once her vision clears, she sees Andreas kneeling in front of her. She can barely make out his lips. “How do you feel?”

She doesn’t know how to respond, but she can feel the electricity tingling in her fingers again. “How did you fix me?”

“I took away the problem.” He smiles softly and she realizes that his eyes are only empty when he looks at her. Beatrix stays still, the muted feeling of terror washes over her as she watches him rise and walk out of the room.

Her phone buzzes beside her - a fourth message from Riven lights up her phone. She just stares and shoves the phone into her pocket. Her eyes sweep the room and she catches an open page to a spell book:

να είναι χωρίς ανθρωπιά

To be without humanity.

#ftws beatrix #fate the winx saga #ftws riven #ftws andreas #ftws riventrix #riventrix #ftws sky

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kurtskrow · 3 years

Text

⠀ ⠀ ⠀𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗞𝗦

⠀ ⠀ ⠀> Tap for better quality

⠀ ⠀ ⠀> Episode: Hope Falls

- Like I promised in my last post. I’d say why I have a love hate relationship with this episode. So yeah.

Another thing I love about this episode is that we get to learn more about Frank, and we get to see that Scott does indeed have a heart, and that he does learn from his mistakes. For those who don't know, at the beginning of the show. Scott is supposed to be seen as a stone cold stoner who just likes getting high, and has no heart. But past episode 3, we get to learn Scott does have a heart. This episode, Hope Falls, shows us that he does have a heart, and feels bad.

When Scott learns about Franks son, and that Franks son overdosed and died. When Frank says. "I never got to say goodbye." You can see how hurt Scott is. He looks down at the ground, speechless, he feels some sort of guilt, then looks back at Frank to listen to him.

This episode shows you that even though the Cliff Hangers are fucked in the head, they still have a moral compass, they still have pride, and honor. Even though they've seen and experienced things a child should never go through, they still have some sort of direction. Even Scott, the most fucked up (mentally) he still has something, he still has his moral compass. That is something I admire.

We learn that everyone in Horizon at one point has problems. Even the teachers and counselors have problems. Frank, the head master, the principle, even he has problems. He couldn't save his son, and he has some sort of guilt because his son, Tommy I believe, couldn't be saved.

Another thing I love about this episode. This may sound fucked up. But I love how there is this kid who OD's, and tries to off himself by overdosing. I absolutely LOVE this. Not because he tried to off himself, but rather because of how real it is. Often times when kids are sent off to a ranch, such as Horizon, so they can get better. Instead of wanting to get better, they try to off themselves. This is the most real part of Higher Ground. The fact that kids will always try to off themselves.

This kid doesn't wanna be at Horizon, not to mention he hates his home, his life, and most importantly, himself. Due to this, he tries to off himself at the ranch. A ranch where nobody knows him, a ranch he knows damn well where nobody will miss him, so he tries to off himself.

I like that, it's so realistic, I just- man, I love it so much. Not to mention the kid looks like a Chinese knock-off of Scott.

Another part I liked was when Scott at the end apologizes to the kids mother, he clearly doesn't know what to say. But, you can tell he does feel bad for her, so he apologizes to her. It's a little detail of Scott that I like. Shows you, he does have a good heart deep down.

Also the way Scott rejects Shelby is just chefs kiss.

I love how Scott chops wood at the wood station. Later in the season it’s basically established that chopping wood is something Scott just does. The guy is always chopping wood. In episode 8- it’s like 5AM, and this boy is over here finding some wood to chop. It’s great. He just owns the wood station and I love it.

Now for the stuff I didn't like:

SHELBY. I hate Shelby in this episode. I like her most of the times cause she does a great job at being a special bitchy bitch. But my GOD was she incomprehensible. She tries so hard to hook up with Scott to the point where it is just unbearable to watch.

Now I'm not a smart man myself but believe me when I say, I understand what "no, I don't wanna hook up with you." means. And for some reason, Shelby doesn't understand what, "you're a skank." means.

The most memorable thing about Shelby in this episode, is her purposefully provoking Scott because he tells her, "I quit smoking." Shelby gets pissed at Scott, because he says, "I quit smoking." And it is BEYOND retarded. She literally goes up to his face and is like. "Oh yeah? Well when I lived in the streets you took what you could."

As someone who raised in a ghetto ass area. Yes, in the streets or the hood, you would take whatever you could get, but, you had the opportunity to say no. Nobody forced me to do meth, heroin, cocaine, none of that shit when I was in California. They would offer it yeah, but they wouldn't force it upon me. When I would reject, they'd leave me alone, they wouldn't pressure me for shit. So the fact that Shelby says this, is so stupid to me, because if you say no, TRUST ME, they will leave you alone. Trainspotting is a great movie that displays this. None of the drug addicts force their non-druggie friend to do drugs. In fact, it was all his choice to do drugs. Which is exactly what happens 8 times out of 10.

People always act like most drug dealers will pressure you into taking drugs, or smoking, when the reality is, they won't. They really won't. You say no, to your druggie friends, or to a drug dealer, they will leave you alone. You know how I know this? Because every time I rejected an offer to do some sort of drug, they would leave me alone right after. So Shelby saying this, IS STUPID beyond belief.

Another thing I hate, is how Shelby doesn't understand the words, "No." because she borderline harasses Scott from episode 1-9. She never leaves him alone. She's always like. "Scott, I want your dick."

Scott goes. "Uh... no thanks."

Shelby proceeds to get mad. And it's so stupid. Yes, Scott said no, too bad. He doesn't want you, move on. BUT SHE DOESN'T. She doesn't move on, she continues and continues and continues, even though he says no multiple times. Scott even acknowledges that Shelby is no good for him, he basically tells her. "You're no good for me, Juliette is better, she's loyal, she loves me, and I love her." But Shelby pursues him, she still tries to make him cheat on Juliette.

I hate this so much. He said no. HE LITERALLY TELLS HER NO, and for some reason, she STILL tries to get him to cheat on Juliette. I hate it so much. But Scott, our loyal boyo, rejects her every time.

And so, Shelby, tries her best to make Scott doubt Juliette. What sucks is that she succeeds because she says. "Auggie was all up in Juliette's pants." This works, and Scott starts doubting his relationship with Juliette and it sucks ass, because, she was also loyal to Scott and was very healthy for him, but whatever I guess. I don't fuckin know.

Another thing I hate about this episode is Isaac's mother. Her acting is just deplorable. It's atrocious, it is genuinely hard to watch her acting. It's awful. It is downright awful. It is hard to watch, it really is. I'm not kidding. So, that is one thing I despise about this episode.

The other thing I hate, is I DON'T KNOW IF SCOTT IS DATING JULIETTE. This is the one fucking problem with Juliette and Scott. It is never established when these two officially started going out. Yes, in Episode 2, Juliette gently pecks Scott's lips, and it makes him shy, and that's it. That's literally it. You don't ACTUALLY know that's when they started going out, but that's when it's established they had a thing for each other.

Shelby talks about how Scott only has Juliette but- you're still confused if they're dating or not. You're always left assuming. "Are these two dating? Or are they actually friends with benefits?" I've watched this show 37 times now, and I STILL for the life of me, do not know when Scott and Juliette started dating. And this episode, doesn't help in the slightest.

Instead, this episode makes you assume that they started going out in the episode prior, but in the episode prior, they weren't really talking, so in this episode, you are assuming they are a thing, but you still don't know beCAUSE, IT ISN'T. FUCKING. ESTABLISHED.

Yes, Scott did fight Auggie because Auggie kissed Juliette. But if you loved a girl, and some other fuck came in, and kissed the girl you loved, you would be pissed and tell them fuck off cause you want that girl and you don't want competition.

You know when they break up but you don't know when they officially started dating, and it sucks ass cheeks.

My rating for this episode: 8/10.

8 because the plot is good. But, 1.5 is taken away due to Shelby, and the other .5 is because of all the other stuff. That's it, bye.

#icons #higher ground #higher ground hayden christensen #higher ground icons #hayden christensen #hayden christensen icons #scott barringer icons #scott barringer #higher ground scott icons #higher ground scott barringer icons #2000 higher ground icons #2000 higher ground

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inevitably-johnlocked · 3 years

Text

Hugs, Cuddles & Kisses Pt. 6

Hi , do you got any fluffy johnlock with cuddling

(submitted by here-4-tha-ship)

Anonymous asked: hiii got any johnlock fics where sherlock wants a hug but he feels embarrassed to ask john? thank you sm <3

—–

Hi Lovelies!! I sure do! And enough to do a new list too!! So thank you, people don’t ask for this enough these days hahhah! Hope you enjoy!!

See also:

Hugs & Cuddles and Tooth-Rotting Fluff (Pt. 2)

Hugs & Cuddles Pt. 2 /…/

…/ Hugs, Cuddles & Kisses Pt. 3 /…

Hugs, Cuddles & Kisses Pt. 4

Hugs, Cuddles & Kisses Pt. 5

A Better Fate Than Wisdom by flawedamythyst (G, 1,339 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss, John’s Sexuality Crisis, Pining Sherlock, Happy Ending, Fluff) – Nearly four hours pass between their first kiss and their second.

Evermore by SosoHolmesWatson (G, 2,068 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4, 5-Year-Old Rosie, Love Confessions, Song Fic, Parentlock, Oblivious John, Pining Sherlock, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Disney Songs, Beauty and the Beast) – For the past years, John and Sherlock have lived at Baker Street again, raising Rosie together--as friends and nothing more. Ever since the little girl has watched her first Disney movie, she is obsessed with princesses. When John comes home one day, he finds his friend and his daughter in the middle of a reenactment of her current favourite. Part 1 of Made of Music

Living Musical by VeeTheRee (G, 4,149 w. 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Hobbies, Summer, Song Fic, POV Sherlock, Painting, Play Fighting, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Love Declarations, Hair Petting, Promise of Forever) – A one-shot of John and Sherlock being domestic during summer. There is paint, fluff, and music from Imagine Dragons, namely from the album 'Speak To Me', specific song in this one-shot is 'Living Musical'. Part 1 of the Happy Fluffy Johnlock Time series

Date Night by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 4,451 w., 1 Ch. || Anxious / Worried Sherlock, Caring John, Schmoopy Fluff, Fidget Cube, Baking / Cooking, Date Night, Established Relationship, POV Sherlock Holmes, Understanding John, Grumpy Sherlock, John’s Bum, Kisses, Hugs, Domestic Fluff, Touching, Hair Petting, Light Humour) – It's John and Sherlock's first Date Night as an official couple and Sherlock needs it to be PERFECT. Mrs Hudson helps. Part 7 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

To be loved by Strange_johnlock (E, 12,436 w., 8 Ch. || Post S3, Established Relationship, First Person POV Sherlock, Pet Names, Soft Sherlock, Mild ADHD, Protective John, Captain Watson, Body Appreciation, Bottomlock, Rough Sex, Travelling for Holidays, Introspection, Sherlock Loves John So Much It Hurts) – John is so deeply integrated into the work, both as my conductor of light, and as a great shot with a vicious right hook who tackles men -and women- no matter their size all in my defense. He protects me with all he can without question, and this loyalty is surely more than I deserve. Or: Sherlock is counting his blessings.

There's So Much Labour Just in Breathing Lately by Susan (E, 12,708 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF / Mentions of S3 Events, Romance, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Grieving John, Mutual Pining, Meddling Mycroft, Therapy, Ambiguous Hopeful Ending, Infidelity) – The dreams he hated most – the ones that left him a sweating, shaking mess when he woke – were the ones in which Sherlock was just Sherlock. Laughing or drinking tea. Sitting across the table from him at Angelo’s eating pasta. Trailing his open hand behind him on the way to the bedroom. “C’mon, John. I’m about to have my way with you.”

holding steady by darcylindbergh (E, 12,724 w., 4 Ch. || Post S4, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Growing Old, Gone Fishing, Mood without Plot, Soft Sherlock, Caring Sherlock, POV John Third Person, Anxious Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Touching, Feeling Old, Sherlock Worship, Crying Sherlock, Cuddles, Comforting, Introspection, Retirement, Hand Holding, Forehead Kisses, Caring John, Bed Sharing, Emotional Love Making) – Sitting on a thick wool blanket at the end of a rickety dock side-by-side, legs dangling over the edge, a styrofoam container of wet, dark dirt between them, they’re fishing. John knows what this is about. This is about finally figuring it out.

On The Fence by BeautifulFiction (T, 13,770 w., 1 Ch. || Fencing, Case Fic, First Kiss, Insecure John, Pining John, Hug, Greg Finds Out) – The murder of the King's College fencing champion leads to revelations about Sherlock's past. Will it be the point that tips them from friends to lovers, or will they remain on the fence?

The shape of the world around us by Salambo06 (E, 15,058 w., 5 Ch. || Lumberjack John / Botanist Sherlock, Different First Meeting, John Has a Beard, Light Case Fic, Flirting, First Kiss / Time, Masturbation, Love at First Sight, Horny Sherlock, John’s Bum, Bottomlock, Tenderness, Virgin Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Shy Sherlock, Sexual Fantasies) – Looking through the bush, Sherlock felt his heartbeat quicken as a man passed in front of him. Sherlock frowned, trying to get a closer look despite the bush. The man was wearing a red plaid shirt rolled up to his elbows, and Sherlock couldn't take his eyes off the man’s arms. Muscular, slightly tanned with golden hairs along his forearms. For some unknown reason, Sherlock found himself imagining them around his waist, holding him tightly. Closing his eyes for the briefest second, Sherlock shook his head. Opening his eyes and looking back to where the man stood only a moment prior, he found himself alone. Great, now his only chance to find his way back to town was gone. “Why are you wearing a suit?”

A Hooligans’ Game Played By Gentlemen by scullyseviltwin (E, 15,213 w., 1 Ch. || First Time, Rugby as Foreplay, Porn with Lots of Plot, John POV, Ogling, Body Appreciation, Cranky Sherlock, Slow Burn, Bed Sharing, Cuddling, Touching, Heavy Petting, Blow Job, Botttomlock) – In which John wants to get back in shape, does so, joins a rugby league and has sex with Sherlock Holmes. In that order.

Division by MrsNoggin (E, 19,542 w., 11 Ch. || Coffee Shop AU || First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Barista Sherlock, Clingy Sherlock, POV John, John’s Limp, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Sensuality, Touching, Virgin Sherlock, Insecure John) – John likes mysteries. And every morning he dips into the local independent coffee bar with his newspaper and ponders another... one Sherlock Holmes.

Deck the Halls by itsalwaysyou_jw (T, 31,018 w., 24 Ch. || Advent Fic / Multiple One-Shots, Assorted Tags) – One Johnlock ficlet for every day leading up to Christmas. Who is ready for pining, first kisses, established Johnlock, and everything in between? This collection of stand-alone ficlets will have it all.

Lucifer's Gardens by ampersand_ch (E, 32,679 w., 12 Ch. || GERMAN VERSION || Romance, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Murder, Poison / Drugging, Mystery, John Undercover, Academic Club, Therapy, Rituals, Jungian Archetypes, Doctors & Physicians, Grief/Mourning, Esotericism, Hospitals, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, John Falls In Love With Another Man, Jealous Sherlock, Crying, Doctor John, Hand Holding, First Kiss/Time, Mysticism, Hugging, Touching) – John goes undercover for an investigation as a favour to Lestrade in a village in Suffolk. The events surrounding the case awaken deep-seated fears in Sherlock. While John begins to come to a realisation of what he needs in Lucifer's Gardens, Sherlock tries to find a way to reach John – in more ways than one.

Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

Lunar Landscapes by J_Baillier (M, 57,046 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || S3/TAB Fix-It, Slow Burn Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Confessions, Drugs, Pain, Medical, Injury, Sherlock Whump, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Romance, Secrets, Tragedy, Trauma, BAMF John, Doctor!John, Drug Addict Sherlock, Injured Sherlock, Grieving John, Idiots In Love, Protective John, POV John Watson, PTSD Sherlock, Sherlock is a Mess, Medical Realism) – An accident forces John to face the fact that Sherlock's downward spiral had started long before his flight to exile even left the tarmac.

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #hugs and cuddles #my fic recs #fluff fics #submission

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hotchley · 3 years

Text

heavy is the head that wears the crown

Hey besties...

This was my first CM fic, and it was only on ao3, so I am now cross-posting it almost a whole year later because I changed my url and was redoing my masterlists so... yeah.

IT IS FROM A YEAR AGO PLEASE DO NOT COME FOR ME IT'S ALMOST EMBARRASSING JUST COPYING IT </3

Trigger Warnings: depictions of child abuse, aftermath of abuse, canon-typical violence, references to self-harm (it’s not depicted, but hotch has some unhealthy thoughts in the hardwick scene), heavily implied sexual content

read on ao3!

He remembers the last time his father laid a hand on him perfectly. He remembers it perfectly because it was the most painful. When he was feeling particularly low, he wondered if his father knew he was going to die and wanted to watch his oldest son try and hold himself together as one small act of defiance.

He remembers how each strike with the belt hurt more than the last. He remembers how he tried to keep his voice down, because Sean was sleeping, and he didn’t need to ever find out that their father was a bastard. He remembers that the pain became unbearable the moment his father pressed the still lit cigarette to the cuts and that he had screamed so loudly, he was scared the neighbours would come running. Remembers how his father had yanked his hair so hard more tears pooled in the corner of his eyes.

But they didn’t fall. Not when his father shoved him to the ground and left him to deal with his injuries himself. They didn’t fall then because he knew that for one more night, his mother and Sean would be safe from his touch. And that would have to be enough to keep him going.

They didn’t fall when the nice lady from reception asked to speak to him and told him how sorry she was but the hospital had phoned to say his father was dead after suffering a heart attack at work. He didn’t cry then because he was too busy thinking about how Sean was going to be destroyed. And his mother would likely retreat further into herself, leaving him to pick up the pieces and take over the home.

He didn’t break at the funeral. Sean was clinging to his hand, tears streaming down his face, even as he didn’t understand why daddy wasn’t coming home. He wanted to fall to his knees and scream, because despite everything that man had done to him, he had never touched Sean, not even when he had been at boarding school and unable to protect him. But he didn’t, because neither he nor his brother had access to their inheritance, and they needed to survive. His mother wouldn’t work- and he wouldn’t want her to. But it meant it was up to him.

So he looked at himself in the mirror, put the mask that transformed him from Aaron, the delightful teenager who was in the theatre club, into Mr Hotchner, the man who could provide for his family and be who they needed him to be.

It was almost too easy.

If he thought about it for too long, he would classify the whole incident with Vincent Perotta as his version of a breakdown. As the garrotte tightened around his neck, and as it became harder and harder to fill his lungs with the need to live, all he could think of was his father and Haley. His father smirking as his eldest son finally met the end he deserved- killed by someone he should have been able to defeat in the dark because he had gotten distracted- and Haley, home with a son barely old enough to hold his own head up.

Haley.

The image of her holding their son gave him the strength to shove the unsub- he didn’t deserve to be named- away. And then the flashlights came into view and he knew he was safe. They had come to get him. He wasn’t alone. The relief was quickly overshadowed by the officer they still had to find, and the confession they still needed. He should have known Gideon would know why he had refused everyone’s offers of help. Why he hadn’t even loosened his tie. The ghost of his father saying he deserved the pain still haunted him.

He hadn’t wanted to finish it. He had wanted to stay as far away from that bastard as he could. But Jason Gideon never asked questions. He phrased demands as questions. So he put back on the Unit Chief mask and said sure. But he knew as soon as he said some that he had messed up. He just hoped nobody else would notice.

The world had never been kind to him.

He didn’t know why he didn’t just walk out without responding. Why he chose to stand there and admit- or as close as he would ever get to admitting- that his father had abused him. That the shards of his words and actions still broke his skin and damaged his heart and filled his lungs with poison that he had to inhale. Maybe it was because he needed to remind himself. He was not his father, and he never would be.

Haley was awake when he got home. He felt bad, she needed all the rest she could get, but she had smiled, and said she loved him. It sounded like a reminder rather than a confession. He had managed to smile, gratefully getting in the bath she had run for him, scrubbing the hands of a murderer off of his skin.

She made love to him that night. Took her time, brushing her lips over every bruise and scar. He had wanted all the lights off, still disgusted by the sight of his father on his body, but she had asked if having the lamp on the dimmest setting was okay, and he had said okay. She said she was so proud of him- was always so proud of him. And she didn’t laugh at the tears that fell after.

He wondered what Jason had said when he phoned, but he never asked.

III

After Reid killed Tobias Hankel, he kept it together. He had to. Because as clever as Spencer thought he was being, everyone knew he was keeping information from them. And Hotch wasn’t going to let him become the next Elle. He wasn’t going to let Gideon convince him everything was fine, because it wasn’t. And it wouldn’t be. Not for a while. Maybe not ever. But that wasn’t the priority. The priority was making sure Reid would be okay at the hospital. Then to get home. Then to give his statement. It wasn’t about making him better. It was about helping him get through each stage.

He didn’t break, because his team already hated him. Reid had called him a narcissist, and whilst he knew what was really being said, he couldn’t help but worry his youngest agent thought it was true. He knew Reid had initially believed what he had said to Phillip Dowd, but they had worked to move on from that. He thought they had. Maybe they hadn’t. Maybe Reid really did think Hotch viewed himself as better than everyone. If only he knew the truth.

Morgan had called him a drill sergeant, but he could handle that. Prentiss saying he trusted men more than women wasn’t hard to understand. He could argue that in her case, it was justified. But JJ calling him a bully without any hesitation had been like a knife to the heart. Worse than that. It had been like a small paper cut on each part of his body, so the pain would never fade. Not properly, because as soon as it stopped in one place, it started in another. He had tried so hard to love all of them. Especially her. She reminded him of Haley. Not because he was attracted to her- he wasn’t, no matter what rumours flew around- but because of her spirit. Her kindness. Her warmth towards everyone. Her willingness to trust. Her ability to be good, despite all she had seen.

Jason had been the only one to not say anything. But Hotch knew he would’ve had something to say. That was why he’d cut them off, started talking about an argument he had forgotten until then.

He didn’t break that night. Or the night after. He pulled away from the team, observing from a distance. He didn’t deserve to cry. Not when it was his fault Reid was struggling with a drug addiction he thought he was hiding. His fault JJ couldn’t even look at dogs without shaking.

It was his fault. He would lock away his need to fall apart until he could look at them without guilt clouding his mind.

Deep down, he knew he would be going back to an empty house after leaving for the case. Still, it was painful to see almost every trace of Haley and Jack gone. It hurt to look around the place they were meant to raise their son together and only see his own clothes and shoes. The plates Haley had picked because they were more fun than the set from her parents. The crib he had assembled before leaving. Jack had migrated to a bed, but they had just never gotten around to getting rid of it. The photos from the case that had ended everything.

He sat on their bed, head in his hands. At some point he started crying. For everything he had done wrong, for everything he was going to still screw up.

And then the phone rang. And Spencer was speaking too quickly for him to understand everything that had happened, but he managed to grasp the most important fact: Gideon was gone. He had left them. With nothing but a letter, addressed to Spencer, that he had left at the now cleared out cabin.

Despite the weariness stamped into his bones, he told Spencer to stay where he was. He drove to pick him up, took him back to his apartment. Said Haley would understand when he started to panic about taking him away from his wife. He rocked Spencer to sleep, singing the same lullabies he heard Haley sing to Jack when he wouldn’t stop shrieking. Noted there were no new marks on his arms and breathed a sigh of relief. He had to stop pulling away from Reid now Gideon was gone.

He couldn’t believe it. Well. He could believe Gideon leaving, always knew the day would come where he would decide he couldn’t do it anymore, and he had thought that day would be when Bale blew up six of their best agents, but when it didn’t happen then, he had dared to hope that it would never happen. He couldn’t believe Gideon had left the way he had. With only a goodbye to Spencer.

And he wanted to be mad at Spencer, because he was there and it would be so easy, but he looked at his sleeping figure, and knew he couldn’t. It wasn’t his fault. But he was mad at Gideon for only saying goodbye to Spencer. Because he had been the one to step up and become Unit Chief when Gideon was placed on leave. He had sacrificed his marriage and his life to make sure the team stayed together. Him. Not Morgan, definitely not Reid. Wasn’t he worth saying goodbye to? Had he really meant that little to Gideon?

For the next few weeks, everything served as a reminder. Reid quoting something or other reminded him of a book Gideon had recommended. A smile from a stranger in the street reminded him of Haley. The silence of a too big house reminded him of how he had failed. A comment about fallen agents made him think of Jason and Elle.

He wanted to walk away as well. Beg Strauss for that transfer and go to Haley. Tell her he would do anything, if she would just come home. But his team- the team Gideon had already abandoned- were depending on him. They didn’t hate him now, but they would if he left as well. So he helped JJ with the requests, took interest in the languages Prentiss could speak, offered to listen to each and everyone of Reid’s lectures. He let Morgan take control every once in a while.

And if he became more Hotch than Aaron in doing so, then that was the price he would pay for not being better.

Chester Hardwick was- for lack of a better term- an absolute shit show. Going into a cell with a dangerous serial killer and picking a fight with him had not been the plan. The initial plan had been to get in there, do the interview as quickly as possible, drive back to Quantico in silence- Reid never spoke on the return journey (he had never fully decided if he hated or loved that)- and ignore Haley’s demands for another night.

Then JJ phoned. And he knew she was trying to keep her tone professional, to not pass judgement on his soon-to-be ex-wife, but it was impossible to miss. Haley had clearly made it into a big deal that he hadn’t answered her calls. It angered him. He didn’t want to give up his son, or only be able to see him on the weekends because it wasn’t fair. He couldn’t guarantee he would even be available on the weekends, but he could guarantee to be there after a case.

Haley didn’t want to accept that. She didn’t want to amend the custody agreement. He didn’t want to go to court and have his faults brandished, but he didn’t want to back down. Which meant they were stuck. And she knew he would eventually be forced to give in and lose.

Again.

He told himself he needed to keep it together. He wouldn’t shout at Reid, not when he was still recovering from Hankel, from Gideon, from all the other bad things that had happened to him since then. And if he was being completely honest, he probably couldn’t shout at Reid, even if he needed to. For although he knew Spencer wasn’t the same innocent, uncoordinated mess that had joined his unit five years ago, he was still so good and kind. Hotch wouldn’t take that from him by shouting because he was frustrated at himself.

Instead, he provoked a dangerous serial killer. That had been one of the few things Haley had never gotten wrong about him: he never did things half-heartedly.

So instead of asking questions to help understand why Hardwick had killed all those women, he shrugged his jacket off, loosened his tie (the memory of cold metal pressed against his neck still woke him even now) and raised his hands on a man who could very easily take any of the things in the room and kill him.

It was stupid. It was reckless. It was the kind of behaviour his father would beat him for, that Haley would shout at him for, and that Rossi would probably give him a round of applause and a drink.

But he was so angry at everything and everyone and he needed to relieve the tension but he couldn’t do it by going down the firing range and shooting a gun because it wasn’t the same. Maybe he was exactly like his father in that respect. Maybe it was the first step into becoming the monster he always knew he would be. It was unfair to say all abused children became abusers. It was fair to say profilers were just unsubs on the right side of the law. Sure, they did the right thing, but at the end of the day, they knew how serial killers and child abducters worked. Crossing the line wouldn’t be hard for any of them.

He raised his fists at a serial killer because he needed to feel something under them. He needed to release the anger and sadness and guilt that flowed beneath his veins. Needed to see the blood on his fists from punching something too hard as a reminder he was human. And he knew that wasn’t healthy, but it was the truth.

Something he had never been good with.

It was stupid. And he should have- could have, very easily- died.

But of course Reid saved him. Dr Spencer Reid, who was always rattling off statistics nobody understood, who had almost been sick at his first crime scene, who had teared up during his first solo interrogation, saved him. By playing to his strengths. He went on and on about the effects of abuse on a child, about the psychology behind finding release in murder, about what made someone into a serial killer.

He kept his audience of one captive for so long that the guards came and unlocked the door without Hardwick ever laying a hand on either of them. He managed to talk a serial killer out of murdering two federal agents. Hotch felt so proud. And disgusted with himself. Reid had talked long enough for the anger to evaporate into thin air and the shame to rain down on him like a storm.

What had he done? It wasn’t falling apart, because he knew what it was like when he fell apart, and that wasn’t it, but it was horrifying. Humiliating. He had put himself and his own issues above Reid’s safety.

He was every bit the narcissist Reid had once described him as being. The thought made him sick. Today it had been a serial killer, but how long before it became his team? Before it became his son?

He felt sick. But he forced himself to get behind the wheel, rejecting Reid’s offer to take over the driving for a little bit. He knew Reid hated driving. But when they had been on the road for a good twenty minutes, and the younger agent still hadn’t said anything about the journey back, or the sky, or the cars around them, he knew he had screwed up.

Scratch that. He had fucked up.

Which was why he told Reid the truth. He hated speaking about his personal life, had always struggled with being open with others, especially the people he worked with because he was the Unit Chief and that meant he was supposed to be there as a strong presence that couldn’t be harmed, but Reid deserved to know why Hotch had been so willing to try and get himself killed.

“I am sorry. I shouldn’t have endangered you like that. It was wrong, and if you want to say something to Rossi or Strauss, I won’t stop you,” he said, after his confession that he couldn’t get what he wanted.

“I won’t say anything Hotch. You would never purposely disregard my safety. Even if you put yourself at risk, any harm that happened to me wouldn’t be deliberate. I know you kick better than a nine year old girl, and that you were holding back with Dowd because you didn’t want to hurt me too badly. And you didn’t,” Reid replied.

His throat went dry. “Hurt you too badly? As in, I did hurt you?”

The sudden fear he radiated made Reid pause. A bad move. Hotch was a damn good profiler, and whilst he always tried to follow the no inter-team profiling rule, some things were just too obvious to miss.

“I need to pull over,” he said.

Reid nodded, face pale and terrified. Luckily, he didn’t follow when he got out the car. And when he returned, Reid handed him a bottle of water and a mint.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he had whispered after Hotch had begrudgingly taken both.

“I hurt you,” Hotch replied. There was no point in trying to be the Unit Chief now. Reid had dismantled his shields by accident, and no suit or back-up weapon could prevent Aaron emerging and taking over from SSA Hotchner.

“But it wasn’t intentional then, and it wasn’t intentional with Hardwick. And you would never hurt Jack. Not in the way you think you may. I’m not saying you’re never going to make a mistake, you will, but you won’t hurt him the way your father did. You’re too good of a person to do it. I saw you holding Jack. The love in your eyes couldn’t be faked. And the way you rocked me to sleep after Gideon left was gentle and kind. You made a mistake with Hardwick. And that’s okay. You don’t have to be perfect. Not with us.”

Hotch stared at him. “I- how do you know about my father?” he asked, defences rising. The only members of the team who had known were Gideon who never followed the rules, and Dave, who had always had a soft spot for him.

Spencer flushed. “I didn’t profile you. We shared a room that one time, and the door to the bathroom wasn’t closed properly so I saw the scars. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been looking.”

“It’s okay,” he said, because it had to be.

The younger man didn’t seem convinced.

“Spencer.” The use of first names always drove points home. “It’s fine. I suppose everyone was going to work it out at one point or another. Thank you for not bringing it up then.”

When they pulled into the car park at Quantico, Reid did something very unexpected. He hugged Hotch. For a moment, he stood there, frozen because it had been so long since someone had done more than shake his hand that a hug felt so foreign, but then he regained control of his body and he bought his arms up and around him.

“Thank you Spencer,” he said.

“You once said to JJ that it’s okay if you lose it every once in a while. That it reminds us that we’re human. I think you should take your own advice.”

He nodded. But he didn’t.

He signed his divorce papers without contest. Haley was right: Jack deserved better than a father who could never confirm whether or not he would be there. He deserved better than a father who woke up in the middle of the night, and he definitely deserved better than a man who’s biggest fear was not that someone else would hurt their child, but that they would be the one to hurt them.

He signed the papers.

And then he got spectacularly drunk.

He used to love New York. He had never worked there, but one of the few holidays he’d had with Haley that hadn’t been cut short was spent in New York. They’d never had a case there, which was why they were both so eager to go.

It had been so nice, to be in a city, and not remember an unsub who tortured women then left their bodies in ditches, or who had preyed on vulnerable children and then manipulated them into joining their twisted cults.

He had loved New York.

And then Kate Joyner had died.

He wasn’t stupid, and his hearing wasn’t damaged when they first arrived. He heard JJ’s remark about her appearance and the tone in Emily’s voice when she had repeated his earlier statement that they had liased together.

It embarrassed him. If he had heard, then Kate definitely knew what they were saying. Not only did she have better hearing than he did, she was also pretty good at reading lips- a skill Hotch had learnt in SWAT and taught her for fun. And she had been staring at them, not him, when they spoke. It wasn’t going to be difficult for her to fill in the gaps.

They hadn’t slept together. He had been happily married at that time, still affectionately calling Haley at every opportunity. And she hadn’t been interested in him like that. They had just been friends that worked well together. He had found it easy to open up to her, and she had liked him because his Southern upbringing meant he was nothing but a gentleman to her.

Then they were both blown up, only he walked away with nothing but a ringing ear and a breaking heart. She would never do anything ever again, and it was all his fault. Everyone he cared about either left or died- his mother, Haley, Kate and Sean.

“Look man, I’m not going to pretend you’re fine because I’ve called your name twice and you haven’t even raised an eyebrow so you’re going to pull over and I’m going to drive,” Morgan shouted.

Hotch slammed the brake far too hard, and turned, glowering at his subordinate. “I could’ve crashed the car then. You don’t need to yell.”

“Yes, I do. What is going on with your ear?”

“It’s nothing.”

Morgan looked at him, the disbelief clear, but eventually rolled his eyes and turned to stare out the window. Hotch took the hint and started driving.

When they got back to Quantico, Rossi was tucked away in his office, and when Hotch looked through the paperwork he needed to fill in, he found half of it missing. JJ had left a note with her file saying she had moved his meeting with Strauss to next week. Garcia had left a batch of chocolate cupcakes with one of her many soft toys. Prentiss had already written her report, with no evidence of Reid’s input. Morgan appeared with his not too long after they returned. Reid offered to take the consults he had to do before he went home to an empty apartment.

He accepted, the impossible smile making an appearance.

His team- no, his family- were always going to be there. He realised then that he could depend on them. That they wanted him to depend on him. Because they could all trust him with their lives, and everything they had done since landing had been to show him that they understood. That he wasn’t alone.

His joy lasted till the door to his apartment swung open, and he was greeted with the impersonal furniture, boxes he hadn’t had the time to unpack. The absence of a smiling blonde and excited little boy pretending to be a superhero.

Instead of breaking, he pulled out a file about a case involving missing women. They had all been pregnant, unmarried and blonde. He hadn’t wanted JJ to see it. So he worked on a profile late into the night, only putting the file away when he was pleased the police would be able to find the unsub.

He couldn’t protect his team from a lot, but this. This he could do. It was better than them realising he wasn’t worth baking for, wasn’t worth their attempts of comfort and walked away.

Haley was dead. She had been killed in the home they were supposed to raise their son in together, all because he had wanted to be a hero and refused to take the deal. The deal she had never found out about and would never find out about because Foyet had murdered her. It was stupid, but Hotch wondered what would have happened if he had taken the transfer. It wouldn’t have been this.

Foyet was dead. He had killed a man with nothing but his bare hands. He was worse than his father. He had killed a man who said they had surrendered because he was angry. And he knew Foyet would have never surrendered. He would’ve waited for Hotch to move away and then killed him, found Jack and made good on his promise. He knew that, logically, there was no other option.

It didn’t make him feel any less like a monster. That was part of the reason why he had sent Jack away as soon as possible. He didn’t want his son to see him covered in blood long enough for it to become a proper memory. Didn’t want his son to see it and start asking if his daddy had been hurt by a bad guy because he didn’t want to explain that this time, daddy had been the one to hurt the bad guy. He had hurt him so badly that he was never coming back.

And neither was mommy.

The only real parent Jack had ever had was gone, and he didn’t know what to do. He had never prepared himself to have the conversation about death with Jack. It was morbid, but he had always assumed Haley would be the one explaining that sometimes bad things happen to good people, and because of that, dad wasn’t going to be coming home anymore, because he was going to go to heaven instead.

He’d never been particularly religious. But he wished he was. At least then he could believe himself when he finally told Jack that mommy had gone to heaven like some of the other kids’ grandparents.

Not for the first time, he wondered why he ever thought having kids was a good idea. He hadn’t wanted them at first. He hadn’t wanted to bring a child into the world when so many people were evil and malicious. Hadn’t wanted to put anyone else at risk of becoming the object of his anger. He didn’t want to repeat the actions of his father and become the monster in the closet he had always been terrified of.

Then he had met Haley, and she reminded him of the stars. For she brightened even the darkest moments, and he just knew that no matter what he became, if she had his children, they would shine like the brightest star, and they would never become irreparably damaged by his own paranoia and fear because she would be there for them.

Now she was gone. And it was all his fault.

But he managed to keep it together at work for his team, and at home for his son.

Jessica had been a lifesaver, taking Jack out when Hotch needed a break, staying with them until Jack had settled into the apartment properly. She even dug up old albums and gave them to Hotch, saying that he deserved to have them. The two of them had grown closer, and he was happy for that, but he just wished it hadn’t taken the death of Haley to let them bond. Jack had nightmares about a loud bang, and sometimes he would wake up crying for his mother, but Hotch had already started looking into therapists for children, and he also sat with Jack, stroking his hair and reading him stories till he fell asleep.

He never told Jack he too had nightmares about lots of things, and sometimes he woke up in the middle of the night, terrified and wanting someone there to comfort him. Both Jessica and the bureau psychologist he was forced to see had told him to, but there was something- pride mainly- that prevented him from ever admitting to his son that he wasn’t okay.

At work, he compartmentalized as much as was humanly possible. The team were doing their best to cope, and he knew the only reason he’d been offered the option to take his retirement package or return, as opposed to being fired without any benefits, was because of the accounts they had given Strauss. Accounts that framed him as a man desperate to bring a killer to justice and protect his son, as opposed to a man who had become obsessed with one particular case that had hindered his ability to do his job.

He never said thank you, because he knew they wouldn’t understand. In their eyes, he had been heroic. He had done what any of them would have. But Hotch knew he hadn’t. He knew his team. They were better people than he was, and they would never have killed a man who had surrendered, no matter how bad their crimes had been.

So although he wasn’t okay, he kept it together. He kept it together for as long as he could, and he ignored his own broken heart, ignored the constant replay of the final conversation he’d ever had with Haley and the sound of gunshots ringing out. He ignored the nightmares and the memories, the sick feeling that overwhelmed him every time he remembered that Foyet had won by destroying him and then moulding him into the person he’d sworn not to become.

He stayed strong because he had to be. But it was becoming harder everyday as the threads that held him together frayed with every scream from his son’s bedroom, every sympathetic smile Strauss gave him in meetings, every hand Jessica placed on his shoulder, every file his team tried to hide from him and pass to Rossi to sign off on instead.

It was three months after that the thread finally snapped clean in half. He had thought he was getting better. Jack certainly was. His twice-weekly trips to the therapist were proving to be beneficial as he was sleeping through the night more often and finding it easier to talk about his mom, even if he didn’t fully understand what was going on. Jessica had gone back to work and was slowly moving through her own grief as she tried to honour the memory of her sister by sharing her memories with her son and ex-husband.

Aaron thought he was doing the same, but maybe repressing and coping had become the same in his mind.

It was late, but Jack had gone to see his grandparents with Jessica and he didn’t fancy going home- not when the rest of his team were still there- so he got a coffee, ignored their concerned faces and started working on a consult he hadn’t got round to the previous day.

He dropped his mug the moment he opened the case file and saw who the victims were.

All blonde women. All divorcees. All of them had been the ones that filed, and all of them had filed because they felt neglected. All of them had been awarded custody of the child, without a court hearing. The police were stuck because they couldn’t find anyone in the local area who had been married to a blonde woman and had one young child.

The sight of their bodies, mutilated and bloody, made him sick. The images blurred as he tried to blink away tears. Next to the photos of their dead bodies were the pictures of their faces, genuine smiles and sparkling eyes, blissfully unaware of the evil that was about to happen.

He didn’t hear the mug shatter into nothing as hot coffee went all over the wooden flooring. All he heard was a gunshot, then another and then a third, and Foyet taunting him, saying he would find Jack and show him the bodies of his dead parents. Maybe he screamed, maybe he couldn’t make a sound, but he couldn’t see anything properly as tears streamed down his face and made everything unfocused and fuzzy.

“-you hear me?” someone asked.

He blinked. Why was he on the floor? What had happened? He looked down, saw his knees pulled to his chest, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“What?” he managed to say, voice hoarse.

“What’s wrong?” Rossi asked, kneeling beside him.

He looked up, saw Spencer and JJ in the room, Emily and Morgan in the doorway, and Garcia behind them.

“Nothing,” he lied. He was supposed their leader, the mom of the team- he had grown to accept that title. He couldn’t fall apart in front of them. “You’re going to hurt your knees if you sit like that for much longer.”

Rossi cursed in Italian. “Kiddo, I don’t care. I want to know what’s going on with you. You’ve been pretending to be strong for these past few months, and we know how much you hate anyone interfering with your personal life, but if you’re hurting, you need to let me help.”

“It’s nothing,” he repeated.

JJ picked up the file, opened it without a word. “Oh, Hotch. Why didn’t you let one of the others deal with it?”

There was such sadness in her eyes, he couldn’t look at them. “Because I can handle it.”

The sound of Reid’s cane coming closer gave him something else to focus on. “Hey Hotch,” he greeted gently. “Do you want to know something? After Hankel, I found it almost impossible to deal with consults involving someone who was using drugs, either on themselves or the victims. I had to try and pass the files off to Morgan and Prentiss. I can do them now, but it still hurts. So it’s okay.”

“No it’s not,” he said. “It’s not because it’s my fault she’s dead. If I hadn’t rejected the deal, all those people on the bus would still be alive, Haley would be here and Jack would have a real parent, who could be there and comfort him, instead of a failure of a father who can’t guarantee to keep him safe and who wakes up shouting in the middle of the night.” He didn’t know why he suddenly opened up, but Reid just had that effect on people sometimes.

Reid blanched. Rossi pulled away, shock all over his face. Garcia pushed her way into the room, heels louder than Reid’s cane and threw her arms around Hotch in a tight hug. He felt the sleeve of his shirt start to get wet, and it was only then that he realised Garcia was crying.

“It is not your fault that Haley died. It is Foyet’s. He killed her, and you had no control over his actions. You did the right thing by not taking the deal, and don’t you ever think otherwise. You are a real parent. You’re a parent to almost everyone on this team, and you’re a wonderful father to Jack. Stop beating yourself up. You’ll never be able to protect him from everything, but that doesn’t mean you’re not good. You are the best man I know, and I know some pretty great people. So dry those eyes, and let us help you,” she said, determined.

He stared at her for a few moments.

“Sir,” she added hesitantly.

“Do you honestly believe that?” he asked, more tears threatening to spill.

Garcia nodded.

Morgan crept closer. “I know what it’s like to grow up with a dad. And Jack will never have to go through that, because even if you’re not there in person, you’re there emotionally. He won’t remember missed soccer games or forgotten parent-teacher conferences. He’ll remember how you read to him, how you always listened.”

“My father turned up to everything I ever did. But it never felt like he cared. It felt like he was just trying to keep my mother happy. When you go to Jack’s things, he knows you’re there because you love him, and that is all any child wants,” Emily added.

“You’re more of a father than my own dad ever was,” Reid declared.

“Hotch, you were the one that taught me that this job doesn’t have to take everything away from us. That we can still form meaningful relationships with others. You never doubt my choices, you just make sure I’m able to back them up, and you’re the reason I don’t go home fretting about whether or not I made the right call,” JJ said, tucking the file away.

“Aaron, I never got to meet my son. But every time I see you smile, every time I see you handcuff another unsub, or speak to a victim, I am reminded that family is not just blood. You’ve been strong for far too long. Let yourself fall and trust us to catch you,” Rossi finally spoke.

“I just couldn’t believe she was gone. And then I saw the photos, and I realised it must have been like that for someone else when she died and it finally hit me and I just couldn’t, but I thought I was moving on and-“ he couldn’t speak, the words not able to push past the lump in his throat as the emotions finally overwhelmed him and the soft cries became mournful sobs that eventually calmed into sniffles.

Rossi and Garcia never stopped hugging him. Reid kept his hand on his shoulder. JJ smoothed his hair, singing the same lullabies that Henry heard every night before he slept. Morgan and Prentiss stood to the side, having locked the door and closed the blinds.

Once he had enough awareness to realise what he had done, he tensed and waited for the hit. It never came. What came instead was a series of encouraging smiles, the option to talk, or just sit in silence. The promise to never leave. To always be there when he needed them.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“You’re our family Hotch. We’re not going to let you suffer,” Morgan said.

Everyone nodded.

It wasn’t easy, falling apart. Especially not in front of your colleagues. But Morgan was right, they were a family. So Hotch finally let himself fall, finally let himself feel all the grief he had been burying for so long, and for once in his life, he let someone else catch him. He let them in. He accepted their support, however long it took for him to actually do so was irrelevant. He let himself cry, and he let his family dry his tears.

They wouldn’t leave him. Not now. Not ever.

But soon, he would be saying goodbye to JJ, wondering how they were going to survive without her. He would be faking Emily’s death, then fleeing because he was a coward who couldn’t bear to see their grief-stricken faces. He would be forced to confront his own actions, reveal the deadly secret that had been slowly killing him. He would damage the trust that had taken so long to build, damage the friendship he had with Morgan, potentially ruin the friendship between Reid and JJ.

He would be crying himself to sleep. Having nightmares that stopped him from doing that for more than a few moments.

And then Garcia would find him rocking himself in his office, whispering I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, to himself. She would drop her request for advanced technology, and once again wrap her arms around him. She would tell him that he did the right thing, that in time, everyone would forgive him, would trust him again. He would look at her, and her heart would break, because her boss should never look that pale and broken, and ask if she was sure.

She wouldn’t be able to answer for a moment. And then she would say she forgives him. And that it was okay.

The next day, Morgan would ask him to check a file. Reid would tell him about the stars. Garcia would bring him a slice of pie. Rossi wouldn’t make any comments that undermined his authority or showed a lack of trust. Prentiss would call him Hotch again, instead of sir. He would invite them for dinner, and they would all accept.

He would confess that keeping the secret had broken him, and they would all forgive him. He would finally let himself cry, let them put him back together. And they would decide to have a very dodgy sleepover- Garcia’s suggestion- because Jack wanted to see Henry, and who could ever say no to his requests.

And that night, Spencer Reid would phone his sponsor, not because he was scared of using, but because he didn’t want to.

Jennifer Jareau would snuggle up to William LaMontagne Jr instead of pulling away from him like she had the past few months.

Derek Morgan would not blame himself for everything that had gone wrong that day.

David Rossi would not curse the God he believed in, he would thank Him for bringing Emily back safely, and for granting Aaron peace.

Emily Prentiss would sleep without a knot in her stomach, for she would finally be sure her family would be okay.

And Aaron Hotchner would watch his family with a smile, before he finally fell asleep as well, not a single tear needed to exhaust himself. He would be a little more whole, once again sure the people around him did truly love him. And he would remember his wife, just before he fell asleep, and it wouldn’t hurt, because he was happy.

#criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #hurt hotch #sad hotch #dear lord why am i doing this #tw child abuse #sumayyah writes cm

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ciel-elyseen · 3 years

Text

tw: mentions of suicide, alcohol, drugs (just one), depression, angst

- i promise i write more than just this shit, lol.

</3.

with a bottle of bourbon in one hand, and your seemingly unattainable hopes and dreams in the other,

you climb onto the ledge of the bridge that arches over the river.

about a ten-minute drive from you is what you wish you were.

happy.

perhaps arm in arm with a good friend who’s telling you some dramatic tale about a guy she met at work.

youthful.

you heave a sigh in sad disappointment.

who are you disappointed in?

surely no one else but yourself, as your mother would say.

you’re the reason why you’re at the bridge in the first place.

the area around the bridge is quiet, as it should be, you check your watch, at 1:03 am.

the bridge, or 50/50, as its known as to the locals, is infamous for a plethora of things.

late night thinking.

bashful kisses after a date that went well.

a haven for a good cry.

suicides.

50/50 has seen it all.

tonight is no different,

though,

you don’t even really know what you’re there for.

the gravel behind you rustles.

you turn,

a man stands behind you, hands shoved in his sweatshirt pockets.

you turn back to face the blackness of the river, bits of light from the city and the moon casting a shadow.

“i don’t know if there’s ever been two people here at one time,” you say, taking a swig from the bottle of bourbon.

the man says nothing, just walks over to where you sit and hoists himself up, sitting next to you.

he takes your bottle and puts it to his lips, staring into the abyss.

you look at him incredulous.

“uh, yeah sure, have some why don’t you,” you scoff.

“name’s changkyun. you?” he says, casting a glance at you from the side.

you ponder for a minute.

“whatever you want it to be,” you chuckle, taking another drink of bourbon.

it’s halfway gone.

“sapphire,” he says.

you smile.

“sapphire it is.”

you sit in silence for what seems like forever.

“what are you sitting up here for? someone like you should be out partying, living your life with no regrets,” he exaggerates, throwing out his arms in dramatic fashion.

“someone like me?” you raise an eyebrow, mildly annoyed.

“you’re pretty. witty. people like you are always living life large,” he hums, kicking his feet back and forth like a child would.

“pretty people have issues too. weird family detachments, cocaine addictions, divorced parents, blah blah blah,” you roll your eyes.

he shrugs.

“what are you doing here is the better question. you live the good life, really, traveling the world, women throwing themselves at you, screaming your name. it’s a man’s wet dream,” you snicker and then sigh again, “yeah i know who you are. i’m not obsessed, but i pay attention to the world of idol-ry every now and again.”

he rolls his eyes back at you, the bourbon is now gone.

his smile fades.

“i haven’t gotten a proper night of sleep in five years. i’m always fucking doing something. i have no time to rest. it’s: wake up at six a.m., eat a shitty breakfast, down my first espresso and black coffee of the day, no sugar or milk, i might add,” he points at you dramatically, “can’t fall asleep in the car otherwise i won’t wake the fuck up, and then after schedules it’s three a.m. and back to sleep i go.”

he sighs deeply, head drooping.

“my mom hates me, kicked me out a few months ago. my dad died when i was in high school and my last relationship went up in flames. i go to work at the same shitty job, making just enough to keep me alive,” you pause, sighing audibly.

“which i don’t even want to be sometimes, but here we are; and i have no idea what the fuck i’m doing, which led me here this evening,” you finish.

changkyun’s eyes meet yours and he holds out a hand,

“it’s been a pleasure to meet you this evening, sapphire. looks like we saved each other tonight.”

and you think he just might be right.

#monsta x imagine #mx imagines #im changkyun #mx changkyun #im #im changkyun mx #mx im changkyun #emo #fluff #tw #angst?#if u squint #it's 12 am and im tired #sigh #xoxo

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downondilaudid · 4 years

Text

High as a Kite

After a stressful case reader unwinds in her own unique way, unfortunately, the BAU is called in on another case. Spencer doesn’t seem too fond of the reader’s stress reliever.

A/N: This is very poorly edited. I just got into a massive fight with a few friends. So now I’m very sad, and just wanna sleep. But fuck them. Like that one vine says, I don’t need friends, they disappoint me. Seriously, FUCK THEM. I still love them doe, i have too, they’re the only friends i have.

Oh also, I wrote this in first person, instead of my usual second person. Let me know if you like it or not! <3

Requested: Yes

Prompts: None

Word Count: 2.9K

Warnings: (Unprotected)Penetrative Sex, a DASH of angst, drug use, let me know if I missed anything.

“He rarely smoked, but once in a while, like now, when his world had been shaken, his woman nearly killed in front of his eyes, and he’d watched a house consume a man and spit him out, he figured a drag or two were appropriate.”

― Christine Feehan, Safe Harbor

Relaxing after a case was one of my favorite things on the planet. Especially when it ended well, I had been able to watch as the little girl who had been stolen from her family, ran to her parents, her little arms wrapping around their legs. Seeing the love and adoration in the parent's eyes as the wept and held her made me want to have a child of my own.

Spencer and I had been together for a little over a year, but I doubt either of us are ready for children. Our job alone is stressful enough, in fact, it’s how we met. I worked as a technical analyst under Penelope Garcia. I will say my job wasn’t as strenuous as Spencer’s, but it’s not exactly ideal to look at dead bodies all day.

We all have our own peculiar ways of unwinding, Spencer loves to sit and read a few books, Hotch heads home to spend time with Jack, and Emily is always down for a drink. I, on the other hand, would much rather smoke a bowl than read a book. It was my own way of unwinding and allowing my brain to cleanse itself of the horrors of the world.

My pink pipe was packed with weed, a matte black lighter in my hand. The weed burned in the small bowl, crisping to a dark black. My finger released the carb of the pipe a couple of times, allowing the smoke to fill my lungs.

The haunting voice of Lana Del Rey filled the room. Her voice alone is smooth as honey, but listening to her while high is an ethereal experience. I could only imagine what Spencer would do if he could see me now, probably ramble off the statistics of marijuana addiction. But I could definitely say I wasn’t addicted, it was just an easy way to relax.

I took another hit, watching as the smoke tumbled from my lips. My stomach rumbled, causing me to giggle lightly, here come the munchies. Usually, I didn’t have the biggest sweet tooth, but when I’m high I can’t get enough sugar.

My hands pulled open the pantry, hips swaying lightly to the music.

Suddenly the music was gone, replaced by an annoying buzzing, “Ugh, you’re fucking kidding.” I groaned. I let the pantry fall shut, making my way over to where my phone sat. I had an inkling who was calling me, but every ounce of my body was praying I was wrong. Unfortunately, I was not, as I had one text from Hotch and a missed call from Spencer.

As if on cue, my phone buzzed in my hand, Spencer’s name illuminating the phone. Quickly I answered the call, pulling the phone up to my ear. “Hiya Spence.”

“You get the call?” Spencer questioned, his voice cracking slightly, it was obvious he hadn’t used it in a while. He had probably been reading ever since he got home.

I giggled lightly at the sound of Spencer’s voice, taking a moment to admire the perfect way it croaked. “Mhm, can you pick me up?”

There was no immediate response, it was obvious there was something off, Spencer could tell. I never asked him to drive me anywhere, I was always the one driving. Especially due to Spencer’s hatred of automobiles.

“But don’t you usually pick me up?” he questioned.

“Spencer, that last case… I’m literally the definition of exhaustion, can you please, just this once?” I was hoping that with the use of his full first name, he would understand the seriousness of my question. There was no way I was driving to work, with Spencer in the car, while high.

Speaking of, I still had zero idea how I was going to act sober in a room of profilers, granted, I had a lot of practice of acting sober in front of people, just not at work. Unfortunately for me, the best two words to describe myself while high were, giggly and horny. Oh, and hungry, who doesn’t get the munchies?

Spencer sighed on the other end of the line, “Of course, Y/N.” He paused for a moment, a slight hesitation in his voice with his next words. “Is-is everything okay?”

“Oh, totally, the case just got to me, that's all!” My reply was all but convincing, it didn’t help the awkward silence made me giggle, which I quickly stifled with my hand. But to Spencer, I’m sure it sounded like a muffled sob. At least he’d buy it, right?

…

I hopped into the car, looking too giddy to be dealing with another case, “hey.”

Spencer turned his head to look at me, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, and his tongue peeking out between his pink lips. “Y/N are you sure you’re okay?”

I rolled my eyes before playfully glaring at Spencer, “yes, now drive, baby.” I reached out, grabbing the gear shift, and shifting the car into drive.

The car rolled slightly before a startled Spencer slammed his foot on the brake, “Y/N what the- my foot wasn’t even on the brake! Do you know how many accidents are caused a year due to pedal error? Sixteen thousand, and that’s just in the U.S.”

I know it was inappropriate, but during the whole lecture he was giving me I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his hands. They were so perfect, long and thick, the number of times that I’ve come undone on those hands is immeasurable. I shifted in my seat before meeting his eyes. Honestly, I hadn’t comprehended a word he said, something about cars?

Spencer shifted the car back into park, turning in his seat to lean towards me. His eyes scanned me up and down, and not in a good way. “You’re acting strange. You’re overly bubbly, especially considering we have another case. You aren’t thinking rationally-”

A gasp left my body once I realized what he was doing, “Spencer Walter Reid, are you profiling me? We agreed not to do that!”

Despite my yelling he kept speaking “and you were too focused on the movement of my hands to retain a single word I told you.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone.

“Spencer, what the fuck are you-ow!” A blinding light clouded my vision, causing me to recoil further into my seat.

A scoff left Spencer’s mouth as he turned off the flashlight. “You’re high,” he stated, “what did you take?”

“I’m not-” I quickly stopped my sentence once I saw the glare Spencer was sending me. “Okay, I just smoked a little weed. Seriously, it wasn’t a lot.”

Spencer unlocked his phone, pressing a few buttons before opening the “W-what are you doing?” I asked, although I already knew the answer.

“Calling Hotch” Spencer replied, his voice even yet stern. It was somehow scarier than his occasional outburst.

“What? No, Spencer!” I reached over the console, latching my hands onto his phone, before pulling back. Sadly, the phone stayed rooted in his large hands, and with a swift tug, he had the phone back in his grasp.

Spencer glared harsh daggers at me, before looking back down, and continuing to type on the phone. “Y/N, you’ve already pushed me far enough. Sit down and keep your mouth shut.”

I fell back into my seat, pouting and crossing my arms childishly. The faint sound of ringing broke the silence, stopped by the barely audible voice of Hotch over the phone.

“Hotch, Y/N can’t come in, she’s sick. I think she has a fever.” The lie tumbled easily out of his lips.

My head whipped towards him, my eyebrows raised in amusement. “Thanks, I will.” Spencer ended the conversation, this time setting his phone in the cupholder in the console.

I giggled lightly, “what would I do without you to save my ass?”

He didn’t respond, instead putting the car in drive, this time with his foot on the brake. Silence filled the car, Spencer opting to focus on the road, and me fidgeting with the hem of my skirt.

“Spencie, are you mad at me?” I asked, resting an elbow on the console between us.

It was obvious he was frustrated, I would be too, but how was I supposed to know we’d get called in on a case? “Yes, Y/N” he answered, his words punctuated and his jaw clenching, accentuating his razor-sharp jawline.

There was something about angry Spencer that sent shockwaves to my core, leaving me squirming against the leather of the car. Eh, what the hell, might as well go for it, I can just blame it on the cannabis.

My arm reached across the console, my hand landing on the top of Spencer’s thigh. I watched him visibly jump at my touch, he obviously wasn’t expecting it. “Are you sure it’s just anger?”

He sighed loudly, one of his hands leaving the steering wheel to remove my own from his leg.

…

“Please Spencer, just really quick? It’d help you relieve some stress!” I cried as I walked through the door.

Another angry sigh left Spencer’s mouth, he seemed to be doing that a lot. “Y/N, you’re under the influence, I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

I almost laughed at his statement, it was perfectly logical of him to think that, and utterly sweet. But he was my boyfriend, my love, I would fuck him in whatever state I’m in. “Spence, I can promise you you’re not taking advantage of me. We’ve had sex countless times, I’d have sex with you even if I was sober, have you seen you?” I paused for a moment before adding onto my sentence, breaking the slight tension with humor, “yourself, not you, that doesn’t sound right.”

Spencer chuckled to himself, rolling his eyes as he reached for his belt. “Hell yes!” I cried as I began to undo the buttons of my blouse, quickly shedding it. I could’ve just left the blouse on, but Spencer was a tits man through and through.

As soon as I heard the clinking of his belt colliding with the floor, I ambushed him, immediately letting my lips find his. The kiss wasn’t rough, nor was it gentle, it was somewhere in between, a perfect balance. I pulled away, biting down lightly on Spencer’s bottom lip.

My hand slipped into his unzipped pants, palming him lightly. It was the most heavenly sight on earth to watch his head fall back, and a low moan tumble from his lips. “Fuck, Y/N”

Nodding my head I giggled, “yes, please fuck Y/N.”

Spencer tilted his head back up, laughing lightly at my comment.

I pulled away from him, grabbing the hem of my skirt and shimmying it up over my hips. Spencer’s eyebrows raised, a look of amusement on his face. “Please” I begged.

“Alright, turn around, over the table,” Spencer commanded, his voice low and demanding.

A giggle passed my lips as I turned around, making my way over to the table. My top half pressed against the table, my body resting against my forearms. I could hear Spencer’s footsteps as he crossed the room, stopping behind me. His large hands wrapped around my hips, pushing my skirt higher up my body. “Do you know how irresponsible it was of you to try and come into work while under the influence?”

His hand left my hip coming back down onto my backside, the impact causing me to cry out. “Spencer!”

His hand raked up my side, grabbing a fist full of my hair. “I-I didn’t have a choice.” I stuttered out as one of his fingers hooked onto my underwear, pulling them to the side.

“You did have a choice, you chose not to inform Hotch, leaving me to save your ass. Do you understand how detrimental the consequences could’ve been if something were to go wrong?” Spencer’s fingers ran through my folds, spreading around my arousal.

“Fuck” I moaned out, using my forearms to push myself back against his hand. “Better hurry this up, Spence, we don’t have long.” Spencer shuffled behind me before I felt the head of his cock brush against my core. “Fine, if you’re so impatient.” He grunted, pulling back on my hair, and pushing his cock into my folds.

He was quick to set a rough pace, pulling out and pushing back in, using the hand in my hair as leverage to pull me back in time with his thrusts. “Yes, Spencer, fuck,” I groaned out.

“You know,” Spencer started, pausing to roughly thrust into me, sending my body forward against the table, the edge digging into my thighs. “If you wanted a stress reliever, you could’ve come to me. Sex releases endorphins and other hormones, the same way exercise does. Particularly, oxytocin, commonly referred to as the “love hormone.”

I moaned against the table, my body beginning to falter as my orgasm approached. “Fuck, Spencer, mhmm, yes.”

With every thrust, I could feel the strain of Spencer yanking my hair back, which would definitely leave a crick in my neck. But I was enjoying myself too much to tell him to stop. I could practically feel Spencer’s anger with every obscene smack of our sweaty skin. It was what I was hoping for, a good fuck, and for Spencer to be able to release his anger before heading back to the BAU.

Surprisingly, Spencer released his vice grip on my hair, easing the tension on my neck, allowing my face to fall forward and my cheek to squish against the table. He planted his forearm beside my head, leaning over me so his chest was pressed against my back. “How good would you feel if I allowed you to come right now?” To add to the pleasure, Spencer’s hand resting on my hip wormed its way around my body, two of his long digits beginning to rub circles around my swollen bud.

A sob racked my body at the added pleasure, and my eyes rolled into the back of my head. I could feel my legs starting to tremble as I held back my release, almost as if my body knew I couldn’t let go until he gave me permission. “Please, please?” I begged.

“Say it. Promise me you’ll come to me next time you need to relieve stress.” Spencer growled, his voice cracking, signaling he was close too.

The desperate sounds of our moans and the musty smell of sex filled the room, drowning out my senses. I was too lost in the euphoria to reply, instead, I deliriously rutted my hips back as an attempt to feel him deeper.

Spencer let out a groan before burying his head deep in the crook of my neck, moaning out “promise me, Y/N.”

“I promise, fuck, please, Spencer?” The words tumbled almost incoherently out of my lips, barely comprehensible.

Nodding his head against my skin, he placed an open-mouthed kiss to my neck before moaning out “come, come with me Y/N.”

And just like that, I was sent headfirst into a trembling, teeth-clenching orgasm. My back arched, uncomfortably pressing my breasts even further against the table. My vision went white, and my legs threatened to collapse. Spencer had stilled, burying his cock deep in my cunt, lewdly moaning out my name, and a series of various curses. An unfamiliar warmth coursed through my body as he filled me up with his seed. Leaving me to grin like a Cheshire cat, caked in sweat.

The two of us laid against the table, deep pants leaving both our mouths. Spencer pulled out, tucking himself back in his pants. “Thank you” I giggled, pushing myself up from the table, and shuffling my skirt back down my legs.

When I turned around I was met with the sight of a sweaty Spencer, running his hands through his tousled hair. “You look fine, Spence.”

I could tell Spencer was trying his hardest to contain his smile, probably wanting to stay mad at me. But as soon as his eyes met mine, his face broke into a soft smile, my own following suit. I took a step forward, wrapping my arms around his torso, and letting my head rest against his chest. “I love you” I murmured against his shirt.

His arms wrapped around my back, pulling me closer to him, “I love you too” he replied, placing a kiss to the top of my head.

“Okay, I have to go,” Spencer said, letting his arms fall back to his side.

I pulled back, unwrapping my arms from his body. “Don’t forget your belt,” I nodded towards his belt that was left discarded on the floor in the midst of our frenzy.

“I have an eidetic memory, Y/N, remember?” Spencer joked, snatching his belt from the floor, and looping it back through his pants.

Rolling my eyes with a laugh I replied, “that doesn’t mean things can’t slip your mind, Spence.”

“Actually-” he started.

I cut him off by opening the front door, “bye, have fun, I love you!”

Spencer laughed, pecking me on the lips before heading out the door, looking over his shoulder to call out, “we’ll talk more about this later, Y/N. Don’t think you’re off the hook just yet.”

“Shit.” I groaned, letting the door fall shut.

Taglist: @pinkdiamond1016 @gubler-squad @garcias-batcave

#spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #mgg fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you

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heartscfvalor · 2 years

Text

Test Muse: Kenan Emerson aka Frederick Johanson

So how do I learn to love myself if I hate everything else? Is anybody there to watch me drown? Don't help, I've been beating myself down

TRIGGER WARNING: abuse (childhood, physical, mental, sexual, emotional), attempted murder, alcohol, drugs, mentions of self harm

Kenan Emerson, once known as Frederick Johanson, was the son of Jake and Gloria Johanson and the older brother to James Johanson. Born in the small seaside town of Bayport, Massachusettes, it looked like everything was set for a bright future; Jake was a well acclaimed officer in the police department, and his best friend Fenton Hardy had a son who was a little older than Keenan, and another boy on the way.

Unfortunately, it all fell apart when Gloria was pregnant with their second child. Jake was caught by Fenton for turning into a corrupt officer, taking bribes from criminals to steal and destroy evidence that could put them behind bars. Jake, addicted to the money and power it granted him, tried to continue his “side job”, but Fenton caught him again, and had to regretfully turn his partner in to their higher ups. Jake was sent to prison after his trial deemed him guilty, screaming and promising revenge against “that dirty rotten squealer”. In disgrace, Gloria moved out of Bayport, taking Kenan and his new baby brother with him; within a few years, Jake was released on good behavior, though they stressed he was on probation and he had to toe the line again.

Unfortunately, Jake was a changed man, and any happiness Kenan had in his childhood was lost to him. As soon as the man returned home, he was an angry, bitter and violent man. He and Gloria often had screaming matches, with Kenan hiding in his bedroom with Jim to try and muffle the sounds. By the time Kenan was six, his mother died under mysterious circumstances; Jake took the boys and fled.

From then on, Kenan’s life was nothing but darkness. Jake took extensive measures to brainwash his sons into criminals with a sense of bloodlust, though if either of them tried to ease out of his grip, he punished them harshly. Kenan and Jim were often sent to school with bruises and gashes, and several broken bones at one point, but they were able to lie smoothly to any adult who asked. By twelve, Kenan had started to take the harsher brunt of Jake’s abuse to protect Jim, though he knew it was futile; completely leashed to their father, the brothers obeyed his whims blindly, until they were sixteen and seventeen years old, and Jake deemed them ready to enact revenge against the Hardys.

It started simple. After returning to Bayport covertly and stalking the family, Jake noticed that both Kenan and Jim resembled Fenton’s own sons, Frank and Joe. He forced Jim to dye his hair blond to pass off as Joe better, and he sent the boys out to start committing heinous crimes, to frame the Hardy brothers. When Frank and Joe went on the run, the Johansons followed Fenton, who knew where they were hiding, and they managed an ambush, keeping the Hardys in an old family cabin in the mountains as their hostages. Jake forced Fenton to write a false confession claiming he had framed Jake all those years ago, and that he raised Frank and Joe to being delinquents. Despite the growing unease Kenan felt, watching his father spiraling further into the sea of insanity, he tried to be loyal, even running after Frank and Joe when the Hardys managed to escape from the cabin and hide in the woods.

It reached a climax when the teenagers got into a tussle in the river. Frank and Kenan were able to grab onto a boulder, watching their younger brothers nearly fall over a waterfall, but they survived. The Johansons were arrested; Jake was sent to prison again, permanently, while Kenan and Jim were institutionalized, due to their ages and the evidence of brainwashing.

At twenty one years old, Kenan was released from the hospital before his brother could be. Not wanting to be associated with Jake, and having never been close with Jim, Kenan vanished into the world, having his name legally changed and moving across the country to try and start over for himself. A budding alcoholic who dabbles in recreational drugs to try and numb himself, he works graveyard shifts to avoid human interaction, and the apartment complex he lives in is run down, but his neighbors all report he’s quiet and considerate for his age.

Kenan knows that Jake’s motivation for revenge was wrong, and he deeply regrets his involvement in the whole thing. Someday, he hopes to return to Bayport, if nothing more than to apologize properly to the Hardys. Despite his resemblance to Frank Hardy, Kenan’s hair is an extremely dark brown, with some curl, and his eyes too are very dark. He has a few tattoos on his arms to cover his self harm scars.

#test muse: kenan #introducing;; kenan #musings;; kenan #regarding;; kenan #alcohol tw #drugs tw #abuse tw #self harm tw

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mafia-nct · 4 years

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Like Magnets (Part 1)

Genre: Mafia!AU, Mafia member Taeil, Street racer Taeil, Fluff, Angst Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of illegal activities, Mentions of guns and drugs Word Count: 4.5k Description: When a mission goes south, Taeil is obligated to use a different kind of racing to save himself. Luckily for him, he meets his saviour who’ll occupy his mind for the rest of his life.

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3

TAEIL’S POV

The air burned his throat as he pushed his body to go faster than it ever did before. He needed to lose those guys following him and fast. He’d been running for four blocks now, he knew he couldn’t go much longer especially at the speed he was pushing his body. He turned right, hoping it’ll buy him some time to find a place to hide. All of this wouldn’t be happening if he’d been behind the wheel.

It was supposed to be an easy mission: “Get the drugs from the supplier, then come back to the mansion.” Had said Taeyong. That’s why Taeil agreed to take Johnny’s place. His underboss showed up, a day before the mission, sick like a dog. He couldn’t stand up straight and could barely breathe silently. Johnny had to stand back, he hated it, but he had to. For the sake of the mission.

Shake the supplier’s hand, pay him, take the drugs and come back. It was an easy job, easier than driving a car, Taeil could do it. Car races were more complicated; this was a walk in the park. That’s what he thought, that’s what everyone thought. Unfortunately, there was a rat on the supplier’s side. A rat that sold information belonging to the network and to the supplier, to a rival gang. They showed up in the middle of the deal, shooting left and right, clearly over powering both sides. They tried to fight them for a while, until Taeyong’s voice had rung in their earpieces: “127 back down. They’re more prepared than us. Don’t come back to the mansion in case you’re followed. Run boys, run.”

Taeil looked behind him. Sure enough, the two guys were still following him. He needed a miracle to get out of this or else he was dead - or worse he was going to be held captive.

“Go to the safe houses,” he heard Taeyong say in his earpiece, “and call me when you get there.”

Taeil grunted, he’d have to get rid of his two pursuers before going to a safe house. Even then, the closest one was miles away. He should’ve let somebody else take Johnny’s place. That way, he would’ve been a getaway driver and he wouldn’t be stuck running all night long to save his ass. He turned left, finally facing his saving grace: a park. He smirked; he could easily lose them in there. Using what was left of his energy; he sprinted past the park’s gate.

Y/N’S POV

Like most nights, the park was deserted bringing you the peace of mind your daily life lacked. Balancing school, your job, your internship and your social life didn’t allow you to have time for yourself. Which left you with only the middle night to wind down; and Vision Park was your go to place. Some people are able to wind down in their home, which, sadly, isn’t the case for you. The emptiness of your apartment reminded you of your loneliness, it’s small size only making it worse. All of your friends were in relationships, or getting married, or having their first child. Meanwhile, your dating life was a mess of failed Tinder dates and disappointing ex-boyfriends.

You leaned your head on the bench’s backrest breathing out loudly. You closed your eyes focusing on the sounds surrounding you; enjoying them like you did every night. The music they made relaxing you: the wind blowing in between the leaves, the crickets chirping, the running water of the fountain and the heavy footsteps of someone running. You opened your eyes, eyebrows furrowing. That wasn’t a usual sound, it wasn’t supposed to be there. It interrupted your symphony. You looked around trying to find the culprit and spotted a silhouette running towards your direction.

What was that person doing running at full speed in the middle of the night? The person quickly looked behind them before passing you. You quickly turned around to follow the moving blur; they stopped running and looked around them before jumping in a bush to hide.

It took you a minute to realize what happened, the weirdness of it all throwing you off. A random person ran, full speed, in the park in the middle of the night and then, jumped in a bush. You should probably check if they were ok. You slowly pushed yourself off of the bench and tiptoed towards the bush that served as a hiding place. The person’s laboured breaths grew louder the closer you got.

“Go away!” You heard them whisper. Were they talking to you?

“What?” You asked, still moving towards the bush.

“You heard me, it’s dangerous. Go away!”

You opened the bush with both of your hands, and finally got a good look at them. There, crouched down in a ball trying to make itself as tiny as possible, was a man. He had black hair styled in an undercut that shined in the moonlight. The style looked great on him if it weren’t for the fact that his hair was dishevelled from his run. He was handsome. He had soft features, apart from his eyes, annoyance coursing through them, as he looked up at you from under his eyebrows. “You clearly need help. I’m not leaving!” You stated.

He rolled his eyes. “Listen princess, if you don’t leave they’ll kill you too.”

Your gaze left the man to look around the park. Not far from the entrance were two guys. They were too far to make out their faces or what they were wearing, but from their stature you could tell they meant trouble. They looked around the park and you made the connection. He was running, and now hiding, from them.

You turned back to the man and pointed towards the two at the entrance of the park. “Are you talking about them?”

The hiding man raised his head just above the bush keeping most of his body hidden. “Shit!” He snarled before looking back at you. “You really need to leave.”

You glanced at the entrance. You couldn’t leave him here; you needed to help him. The men were approaching. Something clicked in your mind. “No, I have an idea.” It was crazy, but it’s all you could come up with the limited time you had.

“What don’t you unders-”

“Have you ever watched Captain America: The Winter Soldier?”

His eyes grew wide. “Now is not the time to talk about Captain America!”

You grabbed him by the collar bringing him up to his feet. “PDA makes people uncomfortable.” You said before crashing your lips with his.

TAEIL’S POV

It felt right. After the initial shock that a random girl, who’s name he didn’t even know, was kissing him to save him melted away. He closed his eyes. It felt right, so he kissed her back.

Lips fitting, tongues fighting and mouths moulding. From one kiss, he saw stars. He never felt that before. He had kissed plenty of people in his life and never was it like that. This was something else.

He felt like he was on fire. Like every cell of his body had woken up. He felt at peace. He knew bad guys were after him, but if he died, right now kissing this girl, he’d be alright with it. He felt like everything in his life made sense. Every question had been answered and every thing he’d been through led to this exact moment. He felt his heart speed up with every movement of lips and his brain short-circuit with one thought repeating itself over and over again. Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her.

One of his arms wrapped around her waist pulling her closer to him. His other hand snaked up her back to hold the back of her neck to deepen the kiss. He felt her hands, which were previously grabbing the front of his shirt, climb up his chest. Her arms wrapped themselves around his neck pulling him closer. He couldn’t help but smile in the kiss. Taeil was in heaven, he was high in the sky and didn’t want to come down.

Then, someone cleared their throat.

Y/N’S POV

This wasn’t right. You didn’t even know the guy; he could be a psychopath or a puppy killer. Kissing him wasn’t right, because it shouldn’t feel so good. His lips were soft and they were addictive as if they were covered with the most powerful drug. His hands felt like they belonged on your body, grabbing you and pulling you close into him. When he kissed you back, it felt like every nerve in your body exploded. Your heart only had one thing on its mind: “kiss him, kiss him, kiss him.” Your brain, the only logical part of your body at the moment, had one thought on repeat: stop, this isn’t right, stop. Your heart retaliated: “if this is so wrong, why does it feel so right.” So you let yourself melt in his arms, in his embrace. You let yourself free fall into the feeling of him as dangerous as it was. He was a stranger, but it felt so good. It felt so right.

Someone clearing their throat brought you back to reality, stopping you from melting on the spot. You stopped kissing him. Remembering why you were suddenly kissing a random stranger, you grabbed the back of his head and quickly hid his face in your neck hoping they didn’t have time to recognize him.

“What?” You snapped eyeing the person who interrupted you. Even if this was a death or life situation for both you and the stranger hiding in your neck, you were still annoyed they interrupted what definitely was the best kiss of your life.

The two muscular guys were standing in front of you. From their body language, you could tell your plan worked; they were shifting from one foot to the other, both of them avoided making eye contact, they were uncomfortable.

“Eum, did you see a guy run and hide here?” Asked one of them.

As you were about to answer him, the man you were trying to protect started to kiss your shoulder. Pulling your skin in between his teeth and biting it lightly. You close your eyes, enjoying the feeling, before clearing your throat. It shouldn’t feel this good, it never felt this good.

“No I haven’t.” His kisses climbed up. His lips on your neck were fogging your mind.

“Are you sure because-” Started the other words rushing out of his mouth.

You opened your mouth ready to answer, but he kissed your sweet spot. You let out a moan as he bit your skin. “Pretty sure.” You breathed out.

They slowly backed away, clearly more than uncomfortable. “Whatever.” Mumbled one of them as they made their way towards the other side of the park.

You kept your eyes on them; you needed to make sure they left the park before lifting his head from your neck. He kept kissing it, switching to the other side. His hand tilting your head to give him access and control.

You closed your eyes for a second, breathing out. It shouldn’t feel this good. Kissed never felt this good. You watched them exit the park and placed your hands on his chest pushing him off.

“They’re gone.” You whispered.

He blinked once, twice. Before shaking his head, clearing his throat. “Thank you.”

You nodded. A little silence following before he extended his hand towards you.

“I’m Taeil!”

You gladly accepted his hand shaking it. “I’m Y/N”

He smiled and you smiled back.

The next words formed in your mouth not even thinking before saying them out loud.

“Why don’t you stay at my place tonight? That way I’ll know you’ll be safe.”

TAEIL’S POV

He walked beside her. His hands in his pocket reminiscing about the kiss they shared. He’d been lost in the feeling, lost in her lips against his. He’d forgotten his enemies were chasing him. He’d thought he was dreaming, because these kisses couldn’t be real. They were too good to be real.

“I know it’s not of my business,” she started breaking the silence, “and you’re not obligated to tell me, but why were they chasing you?”

“Well,” he breathed. He couldn’t tell her the truth, but he didn’t want to lie to her. You couldn’t lie to someone you’ve shared the most mind-blowing kiss with. So he watered down the truth to its basics. “Let's just say I angered them.”

“I figured that out!” She chuckled. His heart skipped a beat. “You don’t have to tell me.”

She smiled at him and he couldn’t help but smile back. Her smile was contagious, it was addicting. He was lost in her. The way her hair bounced as she walked, the way her eyes held stars in them under the street's neon lights, the way her presence calmed him. He was completely, utterly lost in her. Until the ringing of his phone snapped him out of his daze.

He stopped walking to take his phone out of the side pocket of his cargo pants. He wondered who could be calling him. Calls were for emergencies only. He flipped his phone to see his home screen where Taeyong’s name flashed.

Taeil looked at his night saviour. “I’m sorry, I have to take this.” He said motioning towards his phone.

She nodded stepping aside, letting him have some privacy. Taeil stared at his phone and breathed out before answering.

“Where, the fuck, are you?” Screamed Taeyong on the other end. Taeil winced, moving the phone away from his ear. “I got calls from everyone telling me they were in a safe house and I got nothing from you. I’ve been waiting for twenty fucking minutes. Now answer my question!”

“I had a bit of a situation, but I’m fine now.”

“That doesn’t answer my question Taeil.”

“Euh,” he hesitated looking at the girl who saved his ass. He couldn’t tell Taeyong, who knew what his boss would do to her just for getting involved. And with Taeyong’s girlfriend gone on a girls’ trip, no one could calm him if he went on a rampage. No, Taeil couldn’t risk it, “I can’t tell you, but I promise I’ll be back tomorrow.” He confessed voice shaking. Taeyong could be scary sometimes.

Taeyong huffed loudly.“I trust you Taeil,” grunted his boss, “that’s why I’m letting you off the hook.”

He breathed out. A breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. “Thanks boss!”

“But if you’re not back by 9PM tomorrow, there’ll be consequences.” And with that, his boss hung up.

Taeil shoved his phone back in his pocket and moved to stand next to his night saviour who was busy looking at the night sky. “So, where’s your place?”

Y/N’S POV

The way to your apartment wasn’t too far away from the park, the only perk of living on your side of the city. Run down buildings lined the sides of your street attracting students from every university close by. The buildings were cheap and so was the rent.

You went up the stairs that led to your building and looked behind you. Sure enough, the handsome stranger - Taeil - was still following you. Looking around, eyes holding a trace of concern as he scanned the street, the buildings. You opened the door for him and he whispered a small thank you as he entered the building.

A vibration could be heard coming from the first floor tenant’s door, a music major you once learned. No matter what time of the day - or what hour - music was blasting from his place. Luckily, you lived on the fourth floor far away from the noise. You motioned to Taeil to follow you up the stairs. His shoulders dropped, probably relieved that you didn’t live close to the wannabe DJ. You couldn’t help but chuckle. You climbed the stairs as the yellow light of the staircase flashed randomly as it lit the way to your apartment and soon your front door.

“It’s not much,” you said opening the door, “but it’s home.”

Entering your apartment felt like a breath of fresh air after the night you had. And with your guest, your one room apartment never felt so small. Right after entering, on your left, there was the bathroom and on your right was the shared wall with the neighbour. Past the entrance, the apartment opened up: the kitchen area on the wall shared with the bathroom with a little two-seat table. Separating the kitchen and the bedroom was a two shelves bookshelf and on the opposite wall there was your desk.

Taeil entered slowly, taking in every detail. “It’s not bad.” He said breaking the silence.

You knew he was referring to the furniture that wasn’t falling apart or the paint that wasn’t chipping as opposed to the hallway.

“At university last year, I found an interior design student crying his eyes out in the middle of the hallway.” You started to explain. “So I went up to him and asked what was going on. He told me they just received an assignment where they had to redesign a room from A to Z. They had to randomly pick a theme; he picked ‘one-room apartment’ and knew no one that lived in one or would even allow him to redesign their place. Luckily for both of us, this apartment needed a breath of fresh air, so I lended him my place. We’ve been friends ever since.”

A corner of Taeil’s mouth rose in a smile. “So you’re a natural saviour?”

You laughed. “Yes, I guess I can say that!”

He leaned on the kitchen counter. “What do you study?”

“Psychology.”

“There it is, natural saviour again!”

You shook your head laughing. “Want to eat something?” You offered opening a cabinet.

The rest of the night was filled with conversation that varied from topic to topic. It was light and it flowed easily between both of you. The kiss you shared still lingered in your mind, but talking with him and getting to know him was easy and as pleasurable. That man really was something. You shared the bed that night: “we just made out, I don’t think sharing a bed is a big deal after that.” You had said. Taeil had thrown his head back, laughing as he agreed. When you woke up the next morning, you expected to see him there - lying next to you, but you were greeted by an empty bed. And a note on the fridge that said: “Thank you for saving my ass little saviour!”

He didn’t even leave his phone number.

TAEIL’S POV

He sat at the conference table; his elbows resting on it, fingers intertwined and his mouth leaning on his fingers. He knew what the meeting was about, as Taeyong put it in the beginning: “What the fuck happened last night?” He knew Yuta was trying to explain the entire mission to their boss from the way his mouth was moving. Taeil could also hear Johnny’s non-stop dry cough from the other side of the table. His underboss was in bad shape and Taeil knew from the moment he saw him that he probably should’ve stayed in bed another day. But Johnny was prideful, especially when it came to his job and his position, he would never miss two days in a row, even on his deathbed.

Although Taeil knew where he was, knew what was happening, knew what was going on around him. He couldn’t focus; the only thing on his mind was Y/N. Her smile, her eyes, her voice and most importantly her kisses. Everything that happened last night felt surreal. Never in his life did kissing someone felt like it did with her and never did speaking with someone ‘til the early hours of the morning was as easy as it was. That woman was something else. He hoped he'd be able to see her again, and hoped she'd be safe after last night.

“Taeil,” firmly said Taeyong, bringing him back to reality, “are you with us?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes boss, I am.”

“Good.” Nodded his boss, continuing with the meeting, “As I was saying, I want security to be increased in the mansion. They knew about the mission and knew we were going to be unarmed. Until we find out where our breach is, I’m not taking any chances so I want security and surveillance to be tripled in the apartment building. I won’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you in your homes or worse if something happened to our loved ones.” Taeyong looked over at Jungwoo who’s head hung low to hide the blush of his cheek and the growing smile on his lips.

The younger member had recently met a girl he was head over heels for and, luckily for him, she was head over heels for him. They were young, deeply in love and Taeil would be lying if he said they weren’t adorable.

Haechan, who was sitting in front of Taeil, rolled his eyes and crossed his arms as he leaned back in his chair. The boy had a lot of love to give and was jealous of other members finding loved ones when his dating life was pretty much non-existent. Taeil knew all about this from the amount of times the young boy came in his office to evacuate his frustrations. The day Jungwoo announced he met someone; he had to sit through an hour of Haechan ranting about how unfair life was.

Taeyong continued. “Mark, I want you to check with the Dream Team. Heighten security and try to find the breach and fix it. The rest stay vigilant, stay on your toes until this problem is fixed.”

Mark.

Something clicked in Taeil’s brain. That was his solution. Mark was the best hacker in the network; he could hack in the park’s cameras. Y/N had told him how she went to the park every night to unwind. That way, Taeil could make sure she was safe and sound. After all, she got dragged into this mess because of him. So when Taeyong dismissed everyone with a clap of hands, Taeil waited for Mark to grab his things, pretending he had important texts to answer, so he could leave right behind him. They were the last ones to exit the room. Everyone was already long gone. As soon as they stepped foot in the hallway, Taeil grabbed Mark by the back of his collar.

“Hey!” Protested Mark trying to get out of Taeil’s grib.

He dragged the younger boy to a nearby room where he knew no one went. He couldn’t risk anyone knowing about his plan. Especially not Taeyong, who knew what his boss could do. No, Taeil couldn’t let anyone else know about this. She already was in danger just because she helped him. If the whole network knew about her, her safety could be compromised. Taeil released Mark before closing the door shut.

“What the hell Taeil?” Screamed Mark fixing his shirt’s collar.

“I need your help and I don’t want everyone to know about this so please stop screaming.” He explained, cracking the door open to see if anyone heard them. The coast was clear; he closed the door.

“You could’ve just said so instead of dragging me away like a ragdoll.” Huffed the young boy ruffling his dark purple hair. “What do you need?”

So he explained everything. From the moment he met you to how you saved his life and even made sure he was safe for the night. He laid his feelings bare for Mark who only nodded as Taeil went on.

“I don’t want to be rude,” started Mark, “but, in my opinion, trying to see her again is a bad idea. Especially right now.”

“I know that.” Spat Taeil. “Which is why I need your help. You will hack the cameras of the park just so I can make sure she’s ok. After that, I’ll find a way to approach her again.”

“Alright, I’ll do it!”

“Thank you!” Said Taeil clasping his hands together.

“I can’t believe everyone’s falling in love.” Stated Mark as he exited the room and led Taeil to what they called the hacking room. “First boss, then Johnny, Jungwoo, Xiaojun, WinWin, Jisung and now you.”

“First of all, I’m not in love. She blew my mind away and she made me feel things that no one else ever has, but I’m not in love. Second, Johnny’s going to break up with his girl. I can feel it.”

Mark chuckled. “Chenle, Jisung and I have a bet going on. I say he ends it in one week.” He opened the door to the hacking room. There were a dozen computers. Some had two screens while others didn’t. They were wires everywhere, going from one place to the other and three, gaming style, chairs. Seeing the state of the room, Taeil was happy he was a race car driver. “Chenle and Jisung think that Johnny will leave her in two weeks,” continued Mark sitting in one of the chairs in front of a double screened computer, “but I don’t know if you’ve seen his face recently. He is done with her.”

“Yeah I have,” answered Taeil, “Johnny has always been the heartbreaker of the network.”

It took Mark a second. Taeil only looked away to stare at the different posters that lined the walls and when he stared back at the screen on the right, there you were. Sitting on one of the park’s benches just like you had the night before. Taeil breathed out, you were safe. He would wait a bit before trying to see you again at least, for now, you were safe.

“She looks fine!” Said Mark, gaining Taeil’s attention.

“Yeah she does.” Movement in the corner of the screen caught his attention. He had a vague feeling that something was going on, but he prayed he was wrong for once. “Hold on. Zoom in,” he pointed at the screen, “I saw something move.”

“I think it’s a squirrel.”

“I said,” snarled Taeil, “Zoom in.”

Mark shrugged his shoulders obeying his capo’s orders. And in the corner on the screen, there was no squirrel. Hidden in the bush, in your blind spot, there was the silhouette of a man.

“Zoom out.” Ordered Taeil, why does his suspicions always turn out to be true? He scanned the screen, just like the hacker was. Now engage in whatever was going on the screen in front of him. Taeil spotted something first. He had an advantage over Mark; he was there last night and knew exactly what to look for. Taeil pointed at an SUV.

“Run the plate.”

The hacker did, and in a matter of seconds, the vehicle's entire record popped on the left screen. And Taeil recognized the owner’s name immediately.

He ran his hands through his hair before cursing. “Shit!”

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#neothestars #neowritingsnet #nct-writers #nct mafia au #nct 127 mafia au #mafia taeil #nct #nct taeil #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct reactions #moon taeil #nct dream mafia au #wayv mafia au

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ezekielbhandarivalleros · 3 years

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Addicted to Weed - Chapter 3

Characters: Jake Tweneboah (MC), Sienna Trinh, Jackie Varma (Mentioned)

Summary: Sienna finds out about Jake’s weed problem

Rated - M

Taglist: @princess-geek @secretaryunpaid @arnikki-2406 @choicesficwriterscreations @riana-drarry @treasure-seeking-elf @lisha1valecha @yourresidentplayer @schnitzelbutterfingers @aussieez

Sienna tossed restlessly, unable to find a comfortable position. As far as couches went, it was true that Jake's was pretty comfortable, but it was day four of her sleeping there, and she was really missing sleeping in a bed.

Jake had seemed to get a little irritated with her that night, but Sienna suspected it didn't have much to do with any withdrawal from the Weed. It was more likely Jake was just unused to having a houseguest, and missed having his apartment to himself and Jackie. But Jake had been fairly tolerant about Sienna hovering over him for the better part of the week. He even looked better than he had for the past several months.

Apart from looking a little tired, Jake seemed to practically be himself again. He was rattling out statistics like usual, reading books like some people ate candy, and had been remarkably amiable. He had been smiling a lot more, and sometimes talked to the Doctors besides his past roommates about things unrelated to work. The night before he had even asked even asked everyone if they wanted to go out to eat after work, and several of them had. And Sienna hadn't missed the fact that Jake seemed to be getting along with Ethan finally outside of work.

Sienna rolled onto her back, still unable to get comfortable, but she couldn't help but smile a bit.

Her smile faded and she stopped moving when she heard a soft noise come from Jake’s room. She lay still, but didn't hear any more. She frowned. It could have been her imagination, and the more time that passed in quiet the more she thought that's what it was. She was about to close her eyes when she heard it again, more clearly. It was a whimper, this time followed by a soft, but clearly terrified "please."

Sienna was halfway down the hallway before she realized he didn't remember having made the conscious decision to even get up. That was probably because she had been waiting for Jake to have a nightmare for the past several nights. As she reached the door Jake spoke again, this time his voice laced heavily with panic.

"No. Please," followed by a soft sob. "Please don't. Please."

Sienna entered the bedroom, not needing to turn on a light, as Jake always slept with the dim lamp on his bedside table on. She quickly dropping to a knee by the side of the bed, and grabbed the man's shoulder. "Jake, wake up, man. It's just a dream."

The attempt at comfort did not have the desired effect as Jake flinched and let out a strangled cry. A tear seeped from under closed eyelids. It was the first time Sienna had seen Jake cry since the night she had visited him in the hospital when his mother passed in Georgia. True, he had teared up a bit when talking to Sienna about his difficulty with the photos on his first case back, but this was different.

Sienna gripped Jake's arm gently. "Come on, wake up. It's alright."

Jake batted feebly at Sienna's arm, trying to push her away. "No,no,no, please, no," he chanted, his chest hitching with quiet sobs.

"Tweneboah!" Sienna raised hrt voice in attempt to draw Jake from his nightmare. It may have been the first time he used the man's last name.

It worked, and Reid snapped awake, bolting up, his dark eyes darting across the room as if trying to locate any monsters hiding in the corners that had followed him from his dreams to the waking world. His eyes finally settled on Morgan, but he still looked terrified. "I don't want to be buried alive," he said desperately.

He cringed. He remembered seeing the half dug hole in the graveyard in Georgia and the shovel beside it. Though Jake hadn't talked about it he assumed that someone had been making the young man dig his own grave, and that had always disturbed him greatly. The idea that he may have been planning to bury Jake alive was even worse.

"Nobody's going to bury you alive" Sienna had to work hard to keep the steel edge of anger out of her voice at the thought of someone doing that to a person who she considered a brother. "You're at home. You're safe here."

Jake blinked a few times, his eyes starting to focus a bit more. He sat up and shoved his blankets aside. He ran a hand over his face, trying to wipe away the tears, and Sienna didn't miss the way his hand was shaking.

"You alright?" Sienna asked. Jake did not respond, but instead remained sitting with his head bowed, hair falling forward to hide his face. Sienna reached over and touched his shoulder again.

Jake flinched away, almost violently this time. "Don't," he said. "Don't touch me."

"Sorry," Sienna said softly and let her hand fall away. "Do you want to talk about it?"

""No," Jake said harshly

"It would probably help-"

"I'm not a kid," Jake snapped. "Stop treating me like a child just because I act younger than you. "Jake got out of bed and stood, his posture aggressive. "I don't need you hovering over me all the time," he practically growled before he stormed to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

Sienna flinched at the noise. Jake had gone from terrified to as mad as she had ever seen him in the blink of an eye, and she wasn't sure how to process that. She got slowly to his feet and went back to the living room. She dropped heavily on the couch and ran her hand over her head. I've been an idiot. She thought. she couldn't help but be irritated with herself. She had known Jake long enough to be aware that if something was wrong with the young man his first instinct was to keep it to himself. She shouldn't have assumed that if Jake was suffering from withdrawal from weed he would automatically tell her No, Jake would have hid it. He always hid things that he felt made him appear weak.

In the bathroom Jake splashed water on his face then left the water running to muffle his ragged breathing from Sienna. He was angry with himself for having a nightmare, and even more angry that he had snapped at her like that.

He had been avoiding getting much sleep the past several days. A large reason for his lack of sleep was due to the fact that without being high it was difficult for him to sleep. He knew that keeping himself from sleeping indefinably was impossible, but he had intended to sleep as little as possible while Sienna was staying with his so that she would not witness his nightmares and their aftermath. In addition to not sleeping, Jake had been feeling increasingly shaky and sick the past several days. He had been able to hide it from M so as not to concern her.

Jake's thoughts strayed to the thing he had avoided about thinking about for the past for days. The thing that he had not told Sienna about. The thing that was hidden in the back of his sock drawer.

But though he craved the drug badly, he found he didn't want to take it. He didn't want to undo the work he had done over the past several days to stay clean.

Breathing hard Jake backed up until his back hit the wall, then slid down with his knees pulled to his chest and buried his face in his trembling hands. He bit his lip hard to keep in the sobs that were threatening to escape. He twisted his long fingers into his hair and pulled, using the pain to try to distract himself, but he was unsuccessful. He didn't want to use the drug, but was not certain he would be able to restrain himself if it was in the house.

His movements decisive Jake pushed himself off the floor and threw the door open. He left the bathroom faucet running as he went to his room and dug through the drawer until he found the vial.

"Jake, what are you doing?" Sienna came back to stand in the doorway.

Jake clutched the glass vial in his hand and pushed passed Sienna, going back to the bathroom.

"Jake?" Sinnea's voice took on a note of alarm as she followed him. "What do you have in your hand, Tweneboah?" Jake went into the bathroom, Sienna close behind him. When she saw the vial in his hand he grabbed Jake's arm, assuming he meant to use it.

Jake pushed Sienna away, and unscrewed the top of the bottle.

"Sienna, don't-…" Sienna started, but trailed off when she saw him dumping the drug leaves down the drain and toilet.

When it was empty he dropped the vial into the sink and it fell with a dull clatter. Jake watched the vial roll slowly back and forth in the curve of the sink, and Sienna watched Jake.

Jake let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding and sat down on the tile floor again, pressed against the wall. He was pale, and a single tear spilled down his cheek.

Sienna crouched next to Jake tremors shaking him almost violently. "I-I-I d-didn't tell you th-that I had more," he practically whimpered. "I'm sorry."

Sienna shook his head, and ran his hand up and down Jake's back in a soothing gesture, amazed at how tightly coiled all his muscles were. "It's alright, Jake."

"I-I k-k-kept it just in c-case…" Jake stopped and swallowed hard. His mouth seemed to have forgotten how to work, and each word was a struggle to get out. Even his lips appeared to be shaking. "I-in c-case I needed it, b-b-but then I-I needed it, but I d-d-didn't want it, so I had t-to get rid of it." His body slumped in relief at being able to finish his sentence. He still shook, but Sienna could feel his muscles relaxing incrementally.

"You did real good," Sienna assured him. "I know it was hard, but you did really good."

"I'm done with it," Jake mumbled after a few minutes. The tremors were subsiding and he looked exhausted. The ever-present dark circles under his eyes were even worse than usual, and Sienna wondered how long it had been since he had gotten a full night's sleep. He guessed that it had been the first night he had slept on his couch, when he had been high for the last time.

"I'm done with it," Jake repeated, still in a low, exhausted voice, but there was determination there as well. "I can't rely on it any more. I'm done."

"Good," Sienna said. She stood up. "Come on, let's get you back to bed."

She pulled Jake to his feet and guided him back to his room. Jake already seemed half asleep, and was hardly able to walk under his own power. Once in his room he dropped into bed, drawing the blanket over himself. Sienna was pretty sure he was asleep within seconds. She stood at the foot of the bed for a moment longer, looking at Jake not noticing Jackie scrolling her while this was happening. She realized she would probably never understand how difficult it was for him to throw the drug away, and was impressed, not for the first time, at how the man who was the youngest and most physically powerful on the team was also probably the most strong.

She stared to turn away, but paused. "I'm proud of you, kid," he said softly before quietly leaving the room. Her back turned, she did not notice the small, if tired smile that pulled at the corner of the young man's mouth.

Getting rid of the drug seemed to lift a large weight off of Jake's shoulders. He didn't yet feel free of the drug, or the memories that haunted him. He wasn't sure he ever would be entirely free of them. But for the first time he felt he had a chance. This time when he drifted off to sleep it was willingly, and for the first time in months his sleep was both drugless and peaceful.

#playchoices #choices #open heart #open heart m!mc #jake tweneboah

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ricksroaches · 3 years

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Jimin - Dysphoria ch. 2

pairing: Yoongi x Reader, OT7 x Reader (platonic)

summary: Jimin gets in trouble defending Y/N. Later that night things get deep.

notes: Y/N is based of an OC so if a few traits don't match yours I'm sorry T.T. To clear things up, this chapter takes place like a year before the actual storyline. Present day, Y/N and Jimin are juniors.

word count: 4.5k

warnings: cursing, mental illness, drugs (weed, LSD), smut (fingering, spanking, v penetration), mentions of sexual assault

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Jimin lost his virginity when he was 14.

Too fast? Ight let’s take it back a little.

Jimin was the perfect kid. Obedient, polite, compassionate, the ultimate parent dream package. He was born to please everyone. To give everyone joy, even if that joy was his own. But it wasn’t enough when it came to his parents. Their marriage was rocky even before he was in the picture. They divorced, and his dad moved out when he was 8, leaving his mom to raise him and his older sister by herself. He got a good lawyer and ended up getting out of custody, but his mom managed to get decent child support out of it. If one thing is true about this world it’s that a man with deep pockets can get whatever he wants.

Jimin wouldn’t see his dad for another four years, but life went on as it does; he continued to excel in dance, make good grades, make everyone happy. That was, until Seunghyun came into the picture.

He seemed okay at first. His mom had met him through a friend, and it didn’t take long for them to start dating. He was nice enough, handsome enough, wealthy enough. Jimin remembered the day he met him for the first time.

“Hey, Jimin right?”

“Yes sir.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you. Your mom talks about you a lot.”

“…thank you?”

He laughed. “How old are you?”

“11.”

There was a pause. He simply nodded a few times before clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re a good kid. Keep that up.”

Seunghyun began coming over more and more frequently, most times even staying the night. Jimin had grown to like him quite a bit. He always brought something for him like a candy bar or a pair of Ray Bans he didn’t wear anymore. He often took him out to get ice cream and other spur of the moment treats.

Jimin's sister, Roseanne, was also a dancer. In fact, she was the reason he started. She was the whole world in his eyes and the most beautiful dancer he’d ever seen. Her dancing was the kind that sucked the air out of the room. No one dared breathe as everyone’s eyes followed her fluid movements. You simply couldn’t take your eyes off her in fear of missing a detail. It didn’t matter what you were doing. If Rose was dancing, you were watching.

Rose had a dance tournament in L.A., a solid 6 hour drive from their home in San Francisco. Mom was too busy with work to take her, so Seunghyun offered which she gratefully accepted. Jimin wasn’t worried at all, he knew she’d beat everyone there, which was why it surprised him to see her come home with a broken spirit. When he asked her what happened she simply said, “I didn’t make it.” He consoled her while she wept throughout the next two nights.

It wasn’t until the boys’ trip Seunghyun planned as an extra birthday gift that he would understand Rose’s tears. He’d just turned 12.

Jimin separated his life into two books. One of his life before that trip. The other, his life since. He often kept himself up at night wishing he hadn’t gone, and that he would never become the person he is now.

What happened on the trip, however, it didn’t stop. In fact, it happened more and more often, and it wasn’t just him, it was Rose too. The night Jimin heard Seunghyun slip into his sister's room next door, he made a decision.

He started taking the brunt of Seunghyun’s doings to keep him away from Rose. He could tell she was wilting. Her dance had become lethargic and she rarely competed anymore. Jimin wouldn’t have that. If he had one purpose in this world, it was to make Roseanne happy.

The promiscuity began in 7th grade with his first kiss at the back to school dance with Megan Shelby, one of the most popular girls in school. Their brief relationship rocketed him to the top of the dating hierarchy. By the end of the semester, he’d had 3 girlfriends and 4 boyfriends. Oh yeah, he knew he swung that way for a while now.

By 8th grade, things became more sexual. He just needed more. That rush that he got feeling someone else’s lips on his, getting to touch their body any way he liked, being touched himself, it was addictive. In those moments, he could forget about everything and enjoy himself for once.

His first nude was leaked by a boy who pretended to be gay for a month so Jimin would send to him. He didn’t have much shame when it came to sending nudes. He never asked for any, he was a gentleman. But if asked, if the guy was cute enough, he would.

Jacob. God that boy. Jimin was head over heels for that boy. Whatever he wanted, Jimin did. His first time giving head was pretty scary. He gagged a lot and could barely fit half of him, but it was the hardest he’d ever been in his life.

It didn’t take long for Jacob to want more than blowjobs. It was a spur of the moment thing, really. It was the summer before freshman year, Jacob had gotten them invited to a high school party, and Jimin’s mom had just broken up with Seunghyun (for reasons unrelated to this story). That was also the first night Jimin had ever gotten drunk. This was his night to secretly celebrate his freedom from the burden he lived with for three years. He took to the stuff rather quickly and before long Jacob was carrying him slurring up the stairs to a bedroom for him to rest.

Jimin playfully initiated a make out session that got pretty hot and heavy thanks to the alcohol. It was then that Jacob pulled back and popped the question. Jimin thought about it for a good 4 seconds before smashing his lips back onto his beloved boyfriend’s.

A new chapter in the Book of Jimin was written that night.

Jacob ended up cheating on him to which Jimin proceeded to rack up the highest body count in the school. It’s ancient history.

Despite his vigorous sexual awakening, Jimin remained the same angel in every adult’s eyes. It was hard to live with the memories of Seunghyun that plagued him almost every waking moment. He was finding it more and more difficult to come up with excuses for his breakdowns that sent him home from school. He couldn’t tell his mom. It would break her heart. So he dealt with it on his own, hiding all of his pain and fear behind a polite smile.

~~~

SOPHOMORE YEAR - OCTOBER

“All I’m saying is, dying of old age is like dying from not dying.”

Jimin swung his locker closed revealing the unzipped hoodie clad Y/N leaning against the locker beside him. “It took you ten minutes just to say that?”

“If you won’t appreciate my philosophical ideas then I will take them elsewhere.” He eyed her down.

“Y/N, you probably can’t even stand up straight right now.”

“And why might you say that?”

“Because it’s the last day before fall break I know you're high as tits right now.” She let out a slurred chuckle. She leaned her temple against the red metal and gazed at him with a dopey smile spread across her face. “Yeah, uh huh. Didn’t even share with me, bitchass. Now let’s go.”

“Yessir.” She stuffed her hand in her shorts pockets in search of her keys when a rough slap to her ass made her stiff as a board.

“Nice ass, L/N. You should wear those more often.” She could barely recognize the voice as Will Jacobs before he was on the floor with Jimin on top of absolutely wailing on him. He paused his assault briefly.

“You never touch her! You hear me?!”

Will glanced at her before zoning back in on Jimin. “Her? Tell her not to wear something like that and not expect feedbac-” he was cut off by Jimin's fist connecting to his nose with a delicious crunch. He didn’t stop, though. He kept punching and punching and punching. By now, a crowd had formed shouting and chanting for either boy. Y/N didn’t do anything to stop it. She stood there, keys dangling from her finger, in stoned awe. Although the sober side of her would’ve enjoyed to see it happen nonetheless. She was also too stoned to warn him about the principle marching towards the pair.

“JIMIN PARK!” His fist stopped midair, fully reared back to strike. The circle scattered like rats upon their fighters’ capture. He was yanked up by the back of his shirt and Will was hauled to his feet by two security guards, a shit eating grin on his blood smeared face. Jimin turned to Y/N, who’s mouth was still hanging open, while being dragged to the office.

“Just go without me. This is gonna be a while.” To which she dumbly nodded and made her way out of the building baked and confused.

~~~

The sun had set and Y/N still had no word from Jimin. She assumed his mom took his phone as punishment or something so she went about her business, albeit a little bummed.

She had just settled on her bed with her bong nestled in her lap when a soft knock at her window made her jump. She whirled around to see Jimin crouched outside her window. She unlatched it and shoved it up with a half annoyed huff half sigh of relief. “What the hell are you doing?” He ignored her query and slipped through the window and rolled onto her floor.

“I told my mom I’m at Tae’s. I just wanted to see you after earlier.” With a nod of approval, she turned around to inspect her bong for any damage.

“I live alone dipshit you could’ve used the door.”

“Oh, right. I keep forgetting that.”

Yes. Y/N lives alone. We’ll unpack that later.

“So what happened?” She settled back in her spot but set the hot pink crystal contraption on her nightstand. Jimin crawled onto her bed and collapsed into the soft blankets. The smell of weed mingled with the lavender fabric softener to create a devastating blend that could knock anyone out for hours.

“Most of it was just them saying how disappointed they were and how I tainted my ‘flawless’ record. They didn’t even address the reason I gave them for doing it.” His lips twitched into a hateful scowl briefly. “They’re suspending me for three days.”

“But it’s fall break.”

“Exactly, that’s why I’m suspended the first three days we get back. Jokes on them, I just got my break extended.”

“What about Will?”

“He was in the nurse’s office the whole time.” She casually lifted her fist and he bumped it.

“That’s my guy.”

There was a comfortable silence while the two relived the moment in their heads. She was thinking about how stupid she probably looked watching the ordeal. He wished he’d done more damage.

“Hey, Jimmy boy?”

“Yes, bitch?”

“You wanna get high?”

Y/N had just gotten a new sheet and wanted to try it out. They placed the tabs on each other’s tongues and watched the little mushroom design dissolve. An hour later they were sitting across from each other staring at the other giggling incoherently.

She studied every one of his features like it was the first time she’d seen him all over again. His peach hair was parted down the middle, bangs brushing his temples. His clean, solid eyebrows were in perfect contrast to his sun kissed skin. His eyes formed tiny crescents when he smiled only adding to his adorable look. His smile…….his smile. Perfect, pink, pillowy lips she could only describe as belonging to an angel. Glowing white teeth that radiated beauty every time he opened his mouth. His face slowly began to look like an oil painting on canvas the longer she stared at him. Her smile grew ever wider as she traced the brush strokes along his jaw and the delicate shading of his toned neck.

Jimin gazed at Y/N’s face with pure adoration. All of his love for her magnetized by the dopamine dump in his brain, and he hoped she saw herself the way he did. Her wild curls wiggled in place like a cute version of Medusa’s snakes. Very fun to look at when there’s a whole mane of it. Her freckles sparkled like dots of purple and blue glitter and the moonlight that hit the apple of her cheek shimmered and twinkled like it was coated in diamond dust. A barely audible giggle slipped from her parted lips. It made him giggle too. “What?”

“I’m just so happy…” her spacey smile said it all. He could see in her eyes that she truly meant it. He watched as the color changed from blue, to green, to hazel, to grey. The colors mixed and faded slowly and if you didn’t focus you wouldn’t catch it. He counted each individual fleck of gold in the center of her irises and they glowed like fireflies on a summer night.

“…Jimin..?”

He snapped out of his daze to see that her eyes were wider than they were before. He also realized that she was laying on the bed, and he was on top of her. He was frozen. When did that even happen? He stared back at her with equal shock but neither moved away. Her eyes didn’t show any signs of fear or discomfort. She was just surprised.

Every thought he ever had about her was rammed to the front of his mind and he had the crushing need to show her how special she truly was to him. Without further ado, he smashed his lips down onto hers. She let out the tiniest squeak before quickly returning the favor. She carded her fingers through his hair and pulled him father down to deepen the kiss. His chest was now pressed against hers and the grip on his hair tightened. Few breaths were taken between kisses while she pushed his jacket down his arms and let it drop to the floor.

Jimin took it upon himself to slip his hands under the hem of her shirt and pull it over her head. He slid his palms up and down and stomach and waist, completely lost in the distorted sense of touch that hypnotized him. He was reminded of his task by a soft tug on the hem of his own shirt which he hastily peeled off before diving back into another kiss. He took his course to her jaw and then found purchase on her neck, sucking and biting until wine colored marks dotted her entire neck and collarbone. He made quick work of her plain black bra and tossed it behind him to an unknown corner of the room. He got to work making his marks anywhere and everywhere he could reach. The sharp rise of her chest when she gasped only spurred him on.

His hands snaked down her naked torso and yanked her sleep shorts out from under her before slipping his fingers under the waistband of her undies. Simple black Calvin Klein cheeky cut. Modest, yet tasteful. Her thighs jerked when he found her clit and started rubbing smooth circles, drawing out a silent cry from her behind his lips. He made sure she was good and wet before sinking two fingers past her lips, earning another heavy gasp that made her chest heave against his. He broke the kiss and leaned back much to her disappointment. He pumped his fingers in and out, finding every little nook and cranny to massage. He pressed his palm into the space between her belly button and her entrance and curled his fingers in a ‘come here’ motion, eliciting a satisfying cry from her. He burned the sight of her back arching off the bed at his handiwork into his memory permanently.

He curled and pumped his fingers faster and faster until her walls clenched around his digits and her body shuddered and twitched from the force of the climax he’d brought her. She collapsed against the bed a heaving mess and he gazed down at her with a devilish smile. Demon Jimin had come out to play.

In a flash, he was out of his jeans and back on top in only his boxers. His muscular thighs and arms caged her underneath him as he raked his eyes over her figure before landing on her last remaining article of clothing. Before she knew it, she’d been flipped onto her stomach. His hands glided up her thighs and kneaded the flesh of her ass. With a rough tug, she heard the sound of fabric tearing and cold air hit her core sending a shudder down her spine.

A single, dazzling smack stung her right cheek before the pain was kneaded away. He pressed his body into hers and spoke low in her ear, “You feel that? Only I’m allowed to do that. No one else.”

She could feel the familiar hardness grinding against her ass sending another shiver through her body. He chuckled darkly. “You like that, don’t you?” She nodded, her face pressed into her pillow. He dug his fingers into her hips and abruptly yanked them into the air. Her yelp was muffled by the pillow but he definitely heard it. His boxers were discarded and he lined himself up at her entrance. He teased his tip against her folds watching them flinch with every touch. He sunk his full length into her evoking a high pitched cry from her and a low groan that ripped through his chest.

He wasted no time setting a rhythmic pace that had them both a moaning mess. They could feel every single square inch in 4K and their brains could barely keep up. He was so lost in the feeling he didn’t realize he’d sped up significantly and she was gripping the pillow to muffle her pleasured cries. “Why are you hiding those beautiful noises?” He wrapped his hand around her neck and hoisted her upright on her knees. “I want to hear everything that I do to you. Don’t you dare hold back, because if you go quiet I’ll only fuck you harder.”

He sacrificed speed for force in the new position. More sounds of pleasure spilled from her lips with each snap of his hips. His arm snaked between her breasts to grip her neck and pull her to his chest while he fucked into her with devastating force. The harder he rammed her cervix the louder the cries he squeezed out of her. He increased his speed once again leaving her a rag doll in his arms.

With another flip, she was on her back again and he was back inside her before her vision steadied. He hooked her thighs over his own to get a better angle which sent her curling off the mattress once again. Her head was thrown back and her eyes were squeezed shut to concentrate on the feeling. He gripped both cheeks in one hand and pulled her face down. “Look at me.” Her eyes fluttered open and she tried to find his face among the stars that jumbled her vision. He lined her face up with his, “I want to see those pretty eyes when I make you cum around my dick.” She breathlessly nodded and tried to maintain his scalding gaze while her body was getting shoved into the mattress with every thrust. The headboard cracked against the wall, accompanying her escalating cries when his thumb moved to circle her clit again.

“..-m I’m-”

“Go ahead. Do it.”

Her walls instantly clenched around him eliciting a jagged groan and his daze darkened. He pounded into her while her climax had her screaming loud enough for him to break. He finished after a burst of inhumanly fast strokes, burying his shaft as deep as he could to shoot his load and riding it out with a few hard snaps of his hips. His eyes never left the sea of her irises.

He leaned back and sat on his heels. The only sound in the room was their ragged breaths. He let his head fall back to relish in the aftermath of his ministrations. She watched the beads of sweat trickle between his abs with each swell of his chest. She never thought she’d find herself in this compromising position with someone like Jimin. Yeah, they made out a few times when they were bored but that couldn’t hold a candle to what just went down.

Jimin slid out and rolled over to lay next to her.

“Jimin?”

“Yeah?”

“What are you?”

After a shower that quickly turned into round two, they were dressed and tucked in bed. Her head rested on his chest while she fiddled with the collar of the oversized (on her) grey shirt she’d given him. His arm was wrapped around her waist and his fingers traced her ribs under her shirt in slow, meditative strokes. The old Jimin was back.

“Jimin?”

“Yeah?”

“Why’d you freak so hard with Will? You’ve never gotten in a fight at school, ever.” Her head bobbed with the heavy sigh that escaped him. She lifted her head to look at him. He stared up at the ceiling with a distant look in his eyes. His pink lips curved in a slight grimace.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“No. I had to tell someone eventually. It might as well be now with someone I trust.” She couldn’t help the rush of confidence at his comment. That good feeling died quickly when she processed what he said. “My mom used to date this guy, Seunghyun.” He had to pause to adjust to saying his name. “He was nice. I liked him. A lot.” She watched his eyes dart around the ceiling trying to remember details of the memory. “They’d been dating for about a year. He was gonna take me on a boys trip to his lake house for my birthday. My sister….She tried to convince me not to go and…and I didn’t know why.” His voice trembled with the last words. “The first night he made me sleep in the same bed as him…The second night…” He looked up to blink the tears out of his eyes. She reached up and wiped them for him with her thumb. “The second night, we were getting ready for bed, and he asked me if…if I knew what sex was. I said yes thinking he was trying to give me the talk. He asked me…..if I ever touched myself…I didn’t know what to say so I said no.” His voice caught in his throat, his words coming out at a higher pitch. “He-” His lips pulled back in a quivering frown and his chest beat with one single, silent sob.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, take your time.”

“He came up behind me…and he stuc-….he stuck his hand…down my underwear.” His free hand flew to cover his squeezed shut eyes, gripping his forehead. “He kept asking be if I liked how it felt…I said I-I didn’t know so he kept going.” It tore her apart to see him struggling to speak the way he was. Tears of her own started to stream down her cheeks. “I worked up the courage to tell him to stop and he did. I tried to sleep on the couch in the other room but I woke up in his bed the next day. I don’t know if he…did anything, but the third night I was standing on the dock connected to the house. It was too dark for the neighbors to see anything. He came up to me again. He asked how I liked the night before again and I was too afraid to say anything so I didn’t. He did it again, but this time he pulled his out and…tried to get me to…t-touch it. I didn’t so he took my hand in his and…,” he took a deep breath “and he…u-used it to-”

“You don’t have to say it.”

He nodded

“I never finished…he did. I don’t remember the last day but I remember on the ride home, he said that if I told my mom….it would break her heart. And I didn’t want to break her heart-”

His sobs came out in soft, rapid beats but she was quick to pull him into her chest to soak her t-shirt. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and squeezed both arms around her torso while his cries shook the pair in silence. She didn’t say anything, simply wrapping her arms around his neck and planting kisses on his ears and shoulders.

“That wasn’t the only time, was it.” He weakly shook his head into her neck. “You don’t have to talk about it. You already did so great. You’re safe.” She continued to stroke his hair while his shaking began to plateau.

“You’re safe.”

~~~

The next morning was peaceful. Jimin woke up not feeling like shit like he’d expected. He actually felt….good. Given the bomb he dropped last night. But, she didn’t treat him any differently than she did the day before, and he was grateful.

She cooked for him while he showered, and they hung out having their regular old conversations like nothing happened. Although he noticed something. She was sober. It was nearing 6:00pm and he hadn’t seen or smelled weed since he barged in on her session. She stayed sober….for him. He didn’t like to admit it, but he enjoyed sober Y/N better. Granted, he still loved her any other day of the week, but he loved seeing her natural personality when she wasn’t in a dark place at the moment. And she didn’t seem to be now. Sober Y/N was smart. Sober Y/N gave great advice, and before she dropped him off at home, she left him with some.

Jimin typed in the code on the door and the lock clicked with a mechanical whir. Making sure not to make much noise, he shut the door behind him. He made his way upstairs and down the hall. Framed photos of him and Rose dotted the walls, and as time went by, their smiles were more and more forced. No one could tell but them. He eventually stopped in front of the door he was looking for. He softly knocked and he heard a muffled ‘come in.’ He opened the door to his mom’s room where she was sitting in bed, reading glasses on her nose, looking over the blueprints she’d drawn. She was an architect.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Can I talk to you about something?”

Cover photos by @BIGHITTED on Twitter

#bts #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts angst #jimin #jimin x reader #jimin smut #bts smut

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crookedcatavenue · 3 years

Text

Groupie Love ( Izzy Stradlin X Reader)

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: (y / n) is in love about the 1985 Los Angeles night, but more than that, for the guitarist for one of the bands on the sunset strip.

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: Mentions of drugs, sex and alcohol.

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 1.998 words

𝗔𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: Hello! I am very happy to finally be posting this imagine, I have already posted other guns fanfictions in other platforms, but this is the first time here on tumblr and... Out of my native language. Then forgive any mistake, I hope you'll like it and if you do, give your feedback so I will be able to continue.

The strong smell of hairspray flooded the room along with a long cloud of smoke from the spray, (Y/N) coughed heavily and raised a hand to his nose when the product reached his nostrils.

"Don't you think you've already put in too much?" (Y/N) wanted to know, laughing lightly, while watching her friend set her hair in a bleached blond tone even more.

"No. The more volume the better," Michelle shot back with an amused little smile in the corner of her face.

It was Saturday night. The city of angels invited all young people to a bohemian and wild diversion on the three kilometers of the Sunset Strip, the mythical stretch of Sunset Boulevard. During the day everything seemed peaceful and dull, however when the sun went down and the night swallowed up the Los Angeles sky it was the moment when life seemed to make sense to the youth. With the opening of bars and nightclubs, this was where the rock scene in the 1980s began.

"Do you think Donna and Montana will be able to leave the house?" (Y/N) asked with superfluous concern. The Clarke sisters had been friends with her since elementary school, after a few years when the three entered high school, they met, Michelle, and soon the girl quartet became inseparable. However, the Clarke sisters came from an extremely religious family, and every time the four friends left, they had to come up with a well-designed and convincing excuse for Donna's mother and Montana.

"I hope so, last time we almost missed the time to enter the club waiting for them," he mumbled taking a last look in the mirror, checking if his hair was his taste, when he saw that yes, she turned to help (Y/N) putting on makeup.

Michelle reached for her eyeliner, pulled the cap slightly with her mouth, and leaned over (Y/N).

"Nothing too exaggerated, Shell," She subtly asked her friend, who just rolled her eyes and touched the tip of the brush over the inner corner of (Y/N)'s eye, carefully drawing a line and pulling the movable eyelid to the outer corner.

"What is it, girl?" You need to take a little more risk! Put that jacket we bought last week with those shorts, and you will look amazing.

(Y / N) snapped his tongue over his teeth and just limited himself to a little snort, so as not to disturb the effort and attention that his friend was giving to his makeup.

"Today we are going to Gazzarri's, I heard that there will be a concert by Rose in one of the hundreds of flyers spread across the street from the record store," She informed her, moving away from a little and checking with a proud smile her masterpiece made on her friend.

Rose was one of the dozens of bands that were born there in West Hollywood.

A knock sounded on the door and soon after it was opened, presenting the Clarke sisters in their well-behaved and pastel-colored clothes, without anything too glamorous or exaggerated.

"Get ready soon! Or Todd won't help us get into the club,” Michelle announced bluntly, and the sisters quickly fetched some clothes from the wardrobe in her friend's room.

"You look like a rockstar, (Y / N)," Montana praised grabbing platform-heeled boots from somewhere in Michelle's room.

(Y / N) smiled in thanks and Michelle soon interrupted the small dialogue between the girls.

"And you are a nun," the girl shot, and received Montana's middle finger in response "Come on, girls, this is ours tonight!"

When (Y / N), cheered up with the friend's phrase, she got up from the bed with excitement, however, she soon pulled again.

"Calm down, sweetie, I haven't done the other eye yet"

Gazzarri's.

The night air on Sunset Boulevard seemed to fill (Y / N) 's lungs with a breath of euphoria. The girl felt freedom and happiness filling every inch of her interior at that moment. Besides her friends, who sang some David Bowie songs, she could finally be herself and let her wild and partying soul dominate her body, which looked more like a prison on other days.

When they arrived at Gazzarri's, there was a man a few years older than (Y / N) and her friends, waiting for them with a cigarette between their fingers. On the opposite side there was a long line of people waiting for their turn to enter the club, everyone seemed excited and euphoric that night as well as (Y / N).

"There you are, I thought you weren't coming," She spoke with a special and hungry look on Michelle, who just shrugged.

"And miss the opportunity to see you, sweetie?" She replied in a tone full of malice.

The man laughed softly, throwing his head back and encouraging them to join the club. (Y / N) followed them with Montana and Donna in pursuit, and the instant they crossed the second partition of the establishment, she felt her body being introduced to an atmosphere with an odor of nicotine, sex, and drink. A cloud of smoke hung over the place, leaving the girl's body a little more charged. A cough from the back of his throat upset him for a moment, and in order not to look like an idiot child, he chose to head over to the bar and ask for something to wet his mouth.

"I'm going to get a drink," he warned the sisters before peering between some people on the way to the bar. Gazzarri's was extremely crowded that night, and observed the girl looking around. When the bartender came towards her, she nodded in greeting: - A soda, please.

The man cast an amused look at (Y / N), however, he soon tried to fetch the drink.

"Coke will not make you drunk... At most with a little gas," an amused voice came from the right side of the girl who looked in the direction of the person who said that.

The guy had a spontaneous and fun aura, his blond hair was wild, and (Y / N) didn't understand how his cheeks didn't hurt due to his open and continuous smile.

"Let's say I don't intend to get drunk," he replied promptly "Not now. The show hasn't even started yet, so it loses its grace."

The man tilted his head to the side and rubbed his nose slightly.

"Until you're right," he agreed.

The bartender returned and handed (Y / N) his soda with a straw and walked away to the next customer. At the same moment, the girl sucked the cold, gas-filled liquid, which ran down her throat, ceasing the uncomfortable itch caused by the smoke in the room.

"So... What brings you here?" the smiling blonde close to (Y / N) asked with cautious curiosity.

"Well, it's a little obvious, don't you think?" (Y / N) gave the man a playful smile which he received with an embarrassed frown.

"Yeah, it was a fucking stupid question," he apologized with a look.

(Y / N) mentally cursed himself for being slightly rude to the boy, he seemed to be a nice person, even though she knew that part of his behavior was part of her "flirting".

"Is that you?" he looked at her again with a slightly confused face due to the question, and (Y / N) he tried to reformulate the sentence: "What are you doing here? In addition to trying to get girls drunk."

He opened another smile and straightened her hair.

"Let's say I'm looking for a guitarist and a vocalist for my band," counted on a unique excitement in his voice, you could see the sparkle in the back of his eyes, how much that meant to him "Me and my friend..." he looked over his shoulder looking for someone who was no longer there "… That must be somewhere around here."

(Y / N) let her eyes travel around the club for an instant, she saw no sign of Donna or Montana, as Michelle knew that the moment they entered one of those establishments she went directly to her heavy and special fun with drugs, (Y / N) had no opinion or thought formulated about that subtle addiction of her friend, however, she used nothing, she preferred to stay away from that universe.

"Did you say... A band? It looks cool," stressed the girl returning to the conversation with the blonde.

"Yeah, I think the guys I'm looking for are going to take the stage soon," he looked for a moment at the stage, in which a band would start playing.

(Y / N) studied the man in front of him a little more, and after a few moments decided to give him a chance.

"Hey, how about we do it like this, if the next band sucks we can get drunk in response to our frustration."

He broke into another big smile, and nodded, with his blonde mane shaking like popcorn.

It didn't take long for the band Rose to take the stage, the audience applauded for a long minute and then the show started.

They had a nice sound, however, it seemed that something was missing between the members and the music. (Y / N) commented something here and there with the smiling blonde beside him. It was about how the vocalist seemed crazy with his unique voice and his stage presence, or about the guitarist on the right side of the latter.

The man seemed to be enveloped in his mysterious and intimate bubble, his long black hair falling over his eyes and making his face taper. He looked like he was born to be a rock star. With the guitar down on his knee, (Y / N) he couldn't take his eyes off the guitarist, his movements seemed to have completely caught the girl's attention, and every time he looked up at the crowd her heart seemed to accelerate a little more and his belly was freezing timidly, when he realized the whole show was reduced only to him, in her eyes.

When a long moment passed, someone nudged (Y / N) 's arm incessantly, the performance was over, and she turned to the smiling blonde.

"It seems that today we are not going to get drunk," She said amused twisting her mouth.

"Yeah ... Damn they are awesome!" Exclaimed the man, jumping excitedly from the bench.

"What are your guys?" (Y / N) asked the man with his eyes fixed on the mysterious guitarist still on stage, exchanging a few words with the drummer.

The man lifted his neck, moistened his lips and indicated his finger in the direction of the stage:

"Okay... The guy who looks like Johnny Thunders and the sinister redhead on his side," he said looking back to (Y / N) "I heard that they have been friends since childhood, came from Indiana."

"Yeah, you did nice research on them," the girl laughed lightly.

The man smiled at the comment and jumped off the bench, adjusting his button-down shirt.

"So, let's go talk to them? Then we can go out for a drink or something as soon as I find my friend," muttered the last part, taking another look around the room.

(Y / N) was tempted to accept the invitation, and as much as the idea of being inches away from the guitarist in that band, she still needed to find her friends.

"How about we leave it for the next one? I have to find some friends and we can't be gone that long," She said and made an apologetic expression to the amused blonde.

"Okay, then, see you on any of these nights," He said goodbye with another of his smiles and waved his hand.

Before departing completely, (Y / N) called him by the man making him turn confused among the crowd.

"Good luck with the band, man!" She yelled over the music that sounded there.

"Steven ... My name is Steven," He yelled back before being swallowed by the sea of people there.

#guns n roses #guns n roses x reader #izzy stradlin #80s #rocknroll #steven adler #duff mckagan #axl rose #slash #slash x reader #gnr x reader #izzy stradlin x reader

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