#and my want to write is directly tired to whatever my brain is latched onto and i have

[beinfriends]

( sorry it's been quiet. i haven't really felt motivated to be here at all. maybe i will eventually though! but right now i'm busy being autistic about John Steinbeck novels so i think i'll continue to do that instead. hope everyone is well tho )

[emeren]

zoom call- eren jaeger

pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader 

word count: 1.7k

content warnings: smut, 18+, very slight degradation, voyeurism if you squint (not really though)

notes: i wrote this a couple months back before that video went viral on tik tok, but it was the only completed draft i had, so here we go! very rushed but hope you enjoy :) (also my first time writing smut lol) 

SUMMARY: eren is a little shit when it comes to letting you focus on your zoom classes, especially when you make it obvious you’re trying to ignore him

you lazily rubbed your eyes in response to the bright computer screen. the eight thirty lecture time was starting to wear down on your motivation. you sat, half asleep in front of your laptop, gaze drearily focused on the professor’s face. 

school had become utterly disengaging; hours spent scrolling through your phone and blatantly ignoring your professors. you briefly wondered if class was really worth it at all anymore. 

as your professor began to delve into their lecture on calculus, you could hear your boyfriend in the other room as he began to stir awake. you felt pretty bad, in all honesty. for as long as you’d known eren, he’d made it obvious that he loved nothing more than to sleep in. no matter how quiet you tried to be, it seemed like you woke him up earlier than he wanted every single morning. 

you cringed as you heard the bedroom door creak open, followed by the sound of his muffled footsteps. 

double checking that your mic and camera were indeed off, you turned to see your boyfriend standing sleepily in the doorway. his hair was down and messy; body only adorning a pair of grey sweatpants that sat tantalizingly low on his hips. his teal eyes were squinted with a tired annoyance. 

“sorry, did i wake you up again?” you whispered, despite the fact that no one on the zoom call could hear you. eren’s face creased into a frown at the question. 

“yeah, but s’alright,” he responded, voice thick with slumber. you offered an apologetic smile before turning back to your lecture. eren quietly left the room as you resulted to writing down some half-hearted notes, your brain absently drifting towards your plans for the weekend. 

about ten minutes had passed when you felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around your shoulders, eren’s lips meeting your cheek in a morning greeting. 

his minty breath fanned across your face; you could see that he’d pulled his hair back into a messy knot from his reflection on the computer screen. though his warm gesture made your stomach erupt in butterflies, you were determined to pay attention to the class in front of you. eren took notice. 

“trying to stay focused, hm?” he mumbled as his mouth began to trail down to your neck, peppering the skin with light kisses. you groaned in slight annoyance, attempting to push him away.

“i need to take notes, eren,” you reprimanded. eren didn’t seem so easily swayed, however. 

his mouth found its way back to your neck, beginning to gently suck on the soft skin. you felt your face warm up at the sensation, an all too familiar ache between your legs. curse your boyfriend for being so goddamn horny all the time. 

“go ahead, m’not stopping you,” eren whispered hotly against the skin. you bit your lip as you tried to remain focused on whatever your teacher was talking about, but the words were going in one ear and out the other.

his warm lips began to shift down towards your collarbone and the place where your shirt interrupted the flow of bare, kissable flesh. 

eren’s large hand ran smoothly over the expanse of your right arm before coming up to cup your breast and giving it a generous squeeze. his nimble fingers pinched at your nipple through the fabric of your shirt, causing you to emit a low moan. your eyes snapped to his face in embarrassment over the noise.

eren had a smug look on his face, like he had just won some unspoken argument, the little shit. you glared up at him as he stood to his full height, teal eyes glancing to the computer screen as he momentarily considered something. 

“your camera is off, right?” he asked huskily. you swallowed before nodding. his question could only confirm what you already suspected he was going to do. 

placing either hand on the arm rests of the chair, eren leaned leaned over your body and glowered down at you. “good. can’t have anyone else seeing you the way i do, can we?” 

eren’s possessiveness sent a warm feeling down your spine. the thought of being his and his alone was enough to have you on your knees. you burned with anticipation as he feverishly brought his mouth down to meet yours. 

the kiss was heated and wet, his tongue lapping at your lips as it slipped into your mouth. you sighed contentedly at the sensation. acting on a sudden impulse, you wrapped your lips delicately around his tongue and began to suck gently on the exposed muscle, eliciting a loud groan from eren’s throat. as you pulled away, you saw his dilated pupils snap to the string of saliva connecting your lips. 

“take your shirt off,” you did as you were told, pulling the fabric from your body. eren’s eyes quickly scanned the expanse of your chest; his hungry stare causing the spot between your legs to throb. he dropped to his knees before you, making sure to maintain eye contact as he slowly brought his head to your chest, mouth desperately latching onto your breast. 

his tongue swirled around your hardened nipple, a small whimper clawing its way up your throat. you leaned your head back as you felt eren’s lips curl into a smirk at the sound. his teeth carefully grazed the nub before he pulled back; face slightly flushed and still so very smug.  

his large hands slowly lifted to the hemline of your sweatpants, cold fingertips grazing your hipbone. he looked up to you as he hooked his fingers under the waistline whilst jutting his chin upwards. “up, baby.” 

you lifted yourself briefly from the chair as he pulled your sweatpants down, allowing them to pool around your ankles. as you went to sit back down, you caught your reflection in the computer screen, wincing. it felt unbelievable that you were completely exposed while your zoom class continued in the background. you felt a wave of embarrassment wash over your body and had half a mind to tell eren to stop. 

the moment of doubt passed breathlessly as eren’s awfully cold and awfully long middle and ring fingers pushed past your underwear and teased at your entrance. your lack of attention must’ve been apparent; eren’s free hand coming up to roughly grip your chin, forcing you to look down at him. 

“pay attention, pretty girl,” he growled, teal eyes glinting seriously. his fingers teasingly swiped up to your clit, collecting your slick as they travelled upwards. you sucked in a breath as he brought the digits back down, circling around your cunt before slowly pumping inside. 

you meekly nodded your head, unable to form a coherent sentence as he curled his fingers upwards, hitting the warm spongey spot that made your toes curl. your body began to heat up, watching eren’s beautiful face as he fucked you with his fingers. his chin was turned slightly upward, lips parted. his digits slid in and out of you, picking up speed as a soft moan left your lips. 

“such a wet little bitch,” eren hissed as he shifted to gain more leverage. the pressure in your core began to build, only amplified by the addition of his thumb on your sensitive clit. “fuck, you’re so hot like this. should we show the class your pretty little cunt, hm?”

you closed your eyes as the warmth started to spread from between your legs into your stomach, release on its way. his fingers began to slow, a whine bubbling up from your throat.

“eren..” you whimpered, watching a scowl form on his face. his fingers pulled out completely from inside of you, the lack of contact making you ache in need. 

still gripping your jaw, he forced you to watch as he placed his long fingers between his lips, slowly sucking the remnants of you from himself. you bit your lip to repress a moan at the slight of his tongue gliding over his knuckles. he was hot and he knew it. 

he leaned forward, pulling your face down as he stood. his grip on your jaw tightened, forcing your mouth to pop open. he spat directly in your mouth, the warm liquid pooling on your tongue as he stared down at you.

“swallow,” he demanded, waiting as you let the bitter yet saccharine liquid slide down your throat. pleased, he released his grip on your jaw, a slight stinging where his fingers had rested. “good girl.”

his hands came up to the hemline of his sweatpants, gingerly yanking them down along with his boxers. you felt heat rush to your face as his cock came up to slap against his stomach. 

“can you stand up for me, pretty?” you nodded, eyes wide as his hand came down to lazily pump his dick. standing, you stepped out of your sweatpants and pulled your panties down, kicking them both to the side. 

eren’s eyes glanced to your laptop once more, pushing it as far back on the wooden desk as it would go. before you had the chance to question his motives, he roughly gripped your hips and spun you around, pressing you down onto the table. the cool surface made you shiver. 

his hand grabbed a fistful of your hair, forcing your neck to crane uncomfortably backwards. you could feel him positioning the tip of his cock at your entrance, the throbbing desire in you preparing itself to be stretched. he hesitated, staring at you darkly.

“beg for it,” eren’s voice was laced with a deep desire, eyes clouded with lust. you looked back at him through your lashes, lips slightly parted as his chest heaved. he could tell you were trying to rile him up. he yanked your hair slightly in retaliation. “beg for my cock to fuck you, baby.” 

“please,” you mewled, the aching in your cunt all to aware of him at your entrance, teasing you. eren raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. you swallowed deeply, the sound amplified by the strain of your craned neck. “please fuck me. fuck me so hard, eren.” 

a smirk danced across his features before he slowly stuffed himself inside of you, stretching and embedding within you. you hissed out in discomfort, never really getting accustomed to the sheer size of him. the slight pain started to dissipate as leaned forward while pulling your head back further by your hair. his hot breath fanned across the shell of your ear. 

“if you’re loud enough, i’ll let you cum,” with that, he dropped your hair and began to roughly buck his hips forward, the full feeling making your stomach burn. you moaned loudly as he slammed into you, picking up pace and stretching you nice and good.

his grunts were low and primal, melding with the sound of his hips smacking into your ass, hands burning prints into the skin on your waist. you felt yourself clench around his dick as he thrusted particularly deep, hitting that sweet spot that made tears prick your eyes. 

“you’re so pretty for me,” he grunted breathlessly. his pounding began to speed up, the sensation beginning to curdle in your cervix as you let out a string of curse words. eren fisted your hair again, the follicles stinging angrily as he brought his other hand forward to stuff his first two fingers in your mouth. 

the skin was warm and salty as you desperately sucked on his knuckles, frantic for the release you were craving as he abused your cunt. he pressed his fingers down on your tongue, allowing your mouth to fill with hot saliva. he groaned loudly at the sensation, his hips beginning to buck more senselessly. 

“pretty, pretty girl,” he moaned out, fingers pulling from your lips and bringing the saliva down your chin. you could feel your release fast approaching, aided by eren’s deep, purposeful thrusts that had you seeing stars. 

with one final plunge of his cock deep within your cunt, the release of dopamine crashed over your body, eren twitching as you unraveled around him. with a couple more sloppy thrusts, he was filling you up all nice with his cum, throaty groans ripping from his chest. 

the two of you sat in a breathy silence, cooling down from your highs together. eren pulled out, smiling lightly at the sight of his seed dripping from between your legs. he leaned forward, placing a kiss on your forehead. 

“better catch up on your notes, babe.” 

<3 <3 <3

[aswallowssong]

Second Child, Restless Child

Chapter 9 - The Devil Whispered Lies

@valkyrie-5583

Read on AO3

If I told y'all I got engaged and that's why this chapter is literally a billion years late, would that make it better??

Jokes aside (not really a joke, I did get engaged, I just hid it in the notes a few weeks ago) spring break is one week away for this teacher, and my goal is to write a whole bunch so I can not have to post chapters like... 2 months apart.

Let me know what you think of this one!! Have a lovely day!!

Continuation of chapter 8 - Heaven Knows How Hard I Tried. The Keystone Killer has given Kit a lot to think about; including some things she wasn't quite counting on.

Kit wasn’t quite listening when they walked back into the precinct. Her conversation with JJ earlier in the day had helped. If JJ had met pushback, but now she was allowed to be a full part of the BAU team, she should stand up for herself. The director himself saw all of her reports, she could tell Ramos she disagreed with him. Especially if, for the time being, her work was good enough for the literal director of the whole FBI.

But her talk with Hotch outside of Harbin’s house hadn’t done her a lot of good. Her mind was still reeling from the events of the last hour, she still hadn’t slept since Friday night, and it was actively Sunday. 

What brought her back to reality was Morgan’s voice, deep and steady at the front of their group. It caught her up to the present so quickly she almost stopped short, which would have sent Hotch right into her.

“Well, that's got to be a first. A killer actually leading us to another killer.”

“Come on,” Gideon said from further back, “we all know they make the best profilers. They admire each other's work.”

“Ya, but usually from afar,” Elle said as they spilled into the conference room.

Kit didn’t even let herself imagine sitting down. There was no way she would be able to stay awake when she had nothing of value to add. At this point, she was waiting to get back on the jet and back to her apartment. The image of Claudia was twisting in her mind, and she couldn’t help the desperate need she had to see Monty face to face.

Hotch didn’t let her stay in her head for very long. “At least we got Harbin off the street. All right, let's review. What do we know about the Keystone Killer?”

He’s killing women at an alarming rate.

“Well, we know that he's not dead or in jail,” Elle offered.

Gideon continued. “Enjoys taunting the game.”

“Ya,” Morgan agreed easily. “He's in complete control.”

Reid was quick to add on, statistics rattling from him easier than Kit was even keeping her eyes open. “He strangled seven women in the 1980's, stopped for eighteen years, and then began again suffocating them. Ten percent of all violent crimes are caused by strangulation, it only takes eleven pounds of pressure to fully incapacitate your victim and if you hang on for at least fifty seconds, they will never recover.”

“Yeah,” Kit said, stopping short once she’d realized the words had come from her mouth, not someone else’s. Everyone’s eyes were on her, and she took a moment before she voiced the fact her brain had produced for her, however reluctantly. “It’s one of the most lethal forms of violence. Victims can be unconscious in a matter of ten seconds.”

Hotch shook his head, confusion pushing from his before he said, “When you suffocate someone you actually have less control over their death. It's actually more passive because the killer doesn't feel the life leaving the body.”

“He's changed almost everything that he does,” Elle said. She was lost, mild annoyance and confusions coming off her in waves. Elle had joined the team just as JJ did, and Kit wondered if she ever felt as completely baffled as she herself felt.

In that moment, it felt like the answer could be yes, and that was comforting.

Gideon took over then, speaking to them as a whole in a series of questions. “Why why why why? What? I mean, what's he getting out of this new M. O.? Where's his payoff? You got Carla Bromwell, she sustains a significant head injury. Blitz attacks suggest disorganization, no self-confidence. This is a guy who walks into seven victims' homes prior to this. There was no forced entry at any of the scenes. Where's the loss of confidence?”

There was a beat of silence, and she really hoped anyone had any idea. It was moments like these that made Kit feel the most out of her element. She had no idea why the Keystone Killer would want to kill anyone anyway, how could she know why he would change his methods?

“He would never change the way he kills by choice,” Ryan said, breaking the silence.

“What?” 

Ryan spoke again, confident in a way the rest of the team lacked. “We've been operating under the assumption that he purposely changed his M. O.”

It was like something physically snapped into place. Kit looked around as everyone was suddenly much more engaged. 

“You're saying he changed because he had to change?” Gideon asked.

“He knocked her unconscious. And it wasn't to scare.”

Elle seemed to be catching on, and Kit wished selfishly she wasn’t. “Because he couldn't control her physically while she was awake.”

Ryan nodded. “He could be incapacitated.”

Gideon latched back on. “At least partially.”

“Maybe an injury.” 

“Or a stroke,” Hotch added, and Gideon started nodding. “Either way you're gonna have to have medical records. Agreed?”

It took her more than a few seconds to notice that no one had said anything else, and she looked over at Gideon, who was looking directly at her.

Why is he looking at me? He never looks at me? We have a spoken rule to not look at one another during cases so why is he looking right at me?

“Colghain?” he said, and she shook her head. He most certainly was looking at her for an answer, and everyone else had gone quiet so she could answer.

“Yeah.” She said, and she saw Ryan raise an eyebrow in annoyance before she stumbled over herself to continue her answer. “Yeah, yes, sorry. Yes. There would be injury reports, charts, notes, scripts. It’s a lot of records, depending on who your doctor is and what hospital you’re at.”

There was another pause before they were all nodding, taking in what she’d said and running with it.

Morgan was first to speak. “Okay, so what are we talking about? This had to have happened after the middle of 1988 in Philadelphia?”

Gideon nodded, first at Kit, and then to Morgan. “Somebody who fits the rest of the profile.”

“It's a lot of hospital records,” Reid said, also looking towards Kit, who nodded her affirmation. “There’s hoards of people going into ERs every day for exactly those sorts of things. It’ll be a huge pool.”

He smiled at her, and she found herself taken a bit aback, but returned his grin with a shy one of her own.

“Call our girl Friday,” Gideon said, directed to Morgan, and as the flurry of movement and new hope danced through the room, she found herself feeling much less tired than she did before.

She’d been helpful. Gideon had known she was an expert about something and asked for her agreement and input before simply inserting a thought. 

Her feelings were incredibly jumbled as she stood there, waiting for directions. Gideon’s affirmation made her feel better than she thought it would, considering they didn’t usually talk if not to argue. JJ’s conversation still lingered in the back of her mind, and she wanted to talk to Ramos. If JJ could stand up to the coms department and get what she wanted, why couldn’t she stand up to Ramos?

But Claudia filled the leftover space in her consciousness, and she didn’t know if she could fight for more time with the BAU, or to try to be more fully integrated, or whatever it was that she actually wanted if the cases were going to stay with her.

To scare her. To make her feel like she needed to know that her sisters were alright, even though there was no way to do that while knees deep in a case. 

What do you even want, Kody? What do you want?

She didn’t have an answer for herself.

-----

Kit stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom of the precinct and splashed another cupful of water onto her face, holding her cheeks in her hands a moment before looking up at her reflection. 

You look exhausted.

Monty’s voice, as always, chided her. Sometimes she wished the voice of her overinvolved consciousness was her brother Al instead. Alaska couldn’t be bothered over things like that. His biggest qualm in life was the fact that his name was Alaska, and it had been quickly remedied by Ari telling him he could just go by Alex at school. 

You’ve got bigger problems than that. You’re having a moment in a police precinct in Philly while the rest of your team waits on a comprehensive file to be faxed. 

A feeling of dread shot through her chest at the realization that Monty didn’t even know she was gone. She’d been so tired and so incredibly thrown by Garcia’s text, and then Hotch’s insistence that she was on the jet that she hadn’t thought to walk down and tell Ari she was leaving. He’d been on the clinic floor; out of sight, out of mind. Then she was on the jet, and then at the crime scene. 

She hadn’t even sent a text. 

Hell, she hadn’t even really slept since then. Her time in the jet and her few minutes in the car were nowhere near what she needed, and with all the feelings and thoughts she had flying around her head, she was surprised she hadn’t crashed. She was definitely feeling “Big Feelings,” and she didn’t have time for it.

Ari and Monty always helped the big feelings. They had to be wondering where she was. Why hadn’t they called her? Or texted? They had to be worried. Girls didn’t just go missing in the middle of the day.

But they do. And worse, they’re murdered too. Right out of nowhere for no reason at all. People are sick, Kody. They kill for pleasure. They kidnap for pleasure. They’ll take anyone at any time. 

She had her phone out and dialed in record time.

“Penelope’s hotline for all things truth. Speak and know.”

“Garcia.” She swiped at her eyes. When had she started crying? “I need a favor.”

“Oh, Kit, hey.” Her voice was as sunny as always. “I’ve got that file almost through, the medical was-”

“It’s not about the case.”

There was silence on the other line for a moment. “Oh?”

“If I gave you the first and last name, could you trace a cell phone?”

“A cell phone? As long as it’s registered to the same name, yeah, I can. Why?”

“Virginia.” She said. “Virginia Colghain.”

She didn’t know why she picked Ginny. Something inside her said that Seese, George, and Lina would be at home with their mam. Ginny lived in the city, and Kit couldn’t call her. 

Ginny didn’t know she was in the field. Ginny didn’t even know she’d been paired with the BAU.

“Where should it be? Just so I know what I’m looking for.”

“Probably the US Attorney's office.”

“Which branch?”

“The one in the district. On fourth street.”

Garcia hummed as she typed, the clicking of her keystrokes halting as she said, “Wait. Wait, Colghain?”

Kit bit her lip. She was sort of hoping Garcia wouldn’t notice. 

Which is stupid, because of course she’d notice.

“Yes.”

“Virginia Colghain?”

“Yes, Garcia, can you track it or not?” Kit glanced at herself in the mirror, letting her reflection ground her. She tugged at one braid, and then the other with her free hand before wiping at her eyes again.

The clicking started again before Garcia said, “Virginia Colghain’s phone is, in fact, inside the US Attorney’s office on fourth street.”

Kit breathed a sigh of relief. While it wasn’t proof that Ginny was okay, it certainly helped Kit’s nerves. “Thanks, Penelope. Sorry about that.”

“Sure, my sweet clover. But, why don’t you just call her and ask where she is? I’m going to assume that’s one of your many many siblings.”

Because I haven’t quite told her I’m working with the BAU now, or going in the field again, and I’m not ready to have that conversation with her just yet, considering no one knows but Ari and Monty.

“I don’t want to interrupt her at work, I just needed to know she was okay.”

Garcia was quiet again before saying, “You know, we’ll get him. My system has faxed almost all the papers now, and then you can go bring him in.”

Kit took a breath, glancing again at the reflection in the mirror. She almost didn’t recognize the face staring back at her. Had she always looked so sad?

“Thanks, Pen,” she said quietly. “I, um. I’ve gotta go.”

“Go fight crime, clover. But, hey,” Penelope’s voice took on a different quality. A serious one. “You and I should talk when you get back.”

She sighed, but nodded. “Okay… bye, Penelope.”

Kit hung up the phone.

Ginny was fine. She knew that it was a given, and she probably just looked like a crazy, paranoid moron, but she also knew deep down that Penelope didn’t care. Maybe she understood.

Before she could convince herself otherwise she hit the first position speed dial, pacing a bit in front of the sinks as it rang.

“Dia dhuit?” Came Monty’s groggy, listless voice over the line, and Kit nearly burst into tears at the combination of her sister’s voice, her real voice, and their mother tongue.

“Monty.”

“Yeah, it’s me. Where are you? Thought you were in the living room, but I only hear you on the phone.”

Kit wiped at a stray tear trailing down her cheek. There was no way she was keeping it together when she finally got home.

Monty’s accented Irish was thicker than it normally was. Her voice was lower too, telling of the fact that she quite possibly woke her twin up. She bit back a bit of guilt, her own voice launching into a language just for them.

“I’m sorry, I woke you, didn't I?”

“It’s alright, I’ll go back when we’re done. Where are you?”

“Are you feeling any better?” She was stalling. “When was the last time you took-”

“Dakota.” Kit stopped in her tracks. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything is fine.”

“But why are you crying?”

Damn it.

She tried to keep any tremor out of her voice, but she knew Monty would always be able to tell. “I’m not.”

“Why are you calling me, crying-”

Kit sighed, her pacing stopping dead in its tracks as she tried to keep herself together. “Everything is okay. I’m not hurt. I’m fine. Everyone is fine. I needed to hear your voice.”

The coughing across the line was grating, and then, “Kody, where are you? What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

“I…” Kit started, steadying herself with a hand on the counter. “We’re in Pennsylvania.” 

“You’re what?” 

“It’s fine, I had to leave overnight. We’re on a case.”

“You didn’t call,” Monty said, obviously upset. “You didn’t even send a text. Ari was at the bureau last night, too, why-” She cut herself off to cough, the line being muffled as Monty pulled away from the speaker.

Kit ran her hand down her face. This wasn’t the conversation she needed to be having. She should have called Ari. He tended to be a little more level headed when he was upset. 

“Why wouldn’t you say anything?” Monty finally asked, voice much rougher than before. “What if something happened?”

“Nothing is going to happen,” Kit said, her voice more steady than she felt it should be. “I’m sorry, Mont. I’m so sorry. I know I should have told you.”

“Why…” Monty trailed for a moment before she said quietly, “Why did you call now?”

Claudia’s face flashed to the front of her mind, and then Monty’s; the reflection of her own staring back at her in the mirror. 

“I needed to hear your voice. I had to know you were alright.”

Another moment of silence passed before Monty asked, “Something happened, didn’t it?”

Kit sighed, sniffling quietly before letting out another, deeper sigh. “I don’t know if I can do this, Mont.”

The door to the bathroom swung open, JJ standing on the other side.

“Hey, the whole file finally came through, we’re meeting in the- are you crying?” 

Kit’s head whipped around to look at JJ square, and she hastily wiped under her eyes. “No, I, um. I’ll be right there.”

JJ tilted her head, but nodded and shut the door again. The air between the twins crackled quietly before Kit cleared her throat.

“I have to go. I… hopefully I’ll be home tonight. I’m sorry, Montana. I am.”

“Kody, wait-”

“I love you, Mont, I’m so sorry.”

“You can’t just say those things and then go put yourself in danger! You can’t do that to me! I-”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I-” The door to the bathroom was pounded on. “Lep! Let’s go!”

Derek.

“Dakota!”

“I’m sorry. I love you.”

Before Monty could say anything else, Kit snapped her phone shut. 

------

Her leg bounced as she sat in the SUV in between Reid and Elle. She was twisting at the hem of her shirt, and some of the threads had ripped and stretched. It was keeping her from pulling on her hair though, so she didn’t care about that. Ginny could sew it for her when they got back to DC.

If Ginny’s still there. Anyone could grab her at any time. Anyone could-

“Are you okay?” Reid asked quietly, his eyes locked on her fingers as they tugged at the material.

She stilled her hands immediately, feeling the concern dripping from his tone.

“Yeah,” she said. “Just… tired.”

“You could probably sit out if you need to,” he said, not noticing the way her face had started to heat up. Everyone in the SUV was actively pretending they couldn’t hear their conversation, but Kit knew better.

“I don’t need to,” she said quickly. “I just want to get home, so the faster we cuff this creep, the better."

"Because of your sister?"

"What?"

How could he have possibly known what you were thinking about Ginny? Did you say something? Did-

"Your sister's sick, right?"

She stared at him for a moment before it clicked. He wasn't talking about Ginny. Of course he wasn't, the only one that knew about her minor meltdown was Garcia. Monty being sick was common knowledge. 

"Oh," she said. "Yeah. And because he's, you know." She gestured vaguely. "Murdering women."

Elle laughed quietly next to her, nodding as she said, “Right, there’s that. We’ll get him. Right, Gideon?”

“Oh, we’ll get him,” Gideon said, sending more anticipatory energy into the world than usual. Kit didn’t have to think about the implications of that, though, as the SUV came to a halt outside a two story home.

They got out of the van quickly, all thoughts of Monty and going home gone as they strapped into Kevlar vests and double checked their weapons.

“I believe Walter Kern is in Sylvia Gooden's home now,” Gideon said, addressing the five of them and the SWAT captain. “Hotch confirmed he left the community center hours ago, and Kern's car's parked on the next block.”

“I want Walter Kern alive,” Ryan said quickly, and the SWAT captain nodded at his request. “I'll stand by for the word.”

“Reid, Greenaway, I'll call you when we've secured Kern. Morgan, Colghain, you’re with me and Ryan. Okay, let's move out.”

“Yeah,” Elle said, watching them as they walked away, Kit trailing just behind. 

It didn’t feel right to her that she was going and Elle was staying back, but that was one of the reasons she was even on the team.

Or, working with them, at least. There’d been too many conversations surrounding that topic for her to understand her feelings about it.

They crept towards the house, pausing as the SWAT team pried the door open. Gideon led and Kit held the rear, covering and watching to make sure that nothing happened to them. Team or not, they were her responsibility.

They weren’t in the house for very long before they could hear Gooden crying for help on the second floor. Every movement they made was succinct, and within seconds they were in the room.

“Don't move! Don't move!” Gideon yelled, all weapons drawn at Kern as he tried to hold a plastic bag over Gooden’s face.

They scuffled for a moment, Morgan able to knock Kern’s gun out of the way before holding his arms behind his back. “Down on your knees! Down! Don't move!”

Kit held her gun steady, shifting into a position that allowed her to still have a sightline on Kern; at least until he was cuffed. Not that she believed he could get out of Morgan’s hold.

Gideon spoke quickly into the com, letting Reid and Elle know that Gooden was alive, and Kern was secure.

Morgan struggled a bit to keep Kern’s hands together, and Kit didn’t change her aim. “Cuff him, Morgan.”

“Gideon, I need your cuffs, man,” he said over his shoulder.

Gideon didn’t move right away, but Kit didn’t take her eyes off Kern. She couldn’t until she knew he didn’t have any chance of getting away.

“Why don't you do this? I'll take care of her.” Gideon had spoken to Ryan, who had clearly been soothing Gooden until that moment. 

"That's enough. Now get up,” Morgan said, passing him off so Ryan could cuff him. “You got him?”

“Ya, I got him,” Ryan said, and Kit lowered her weapon as she heard the click of the cuffs secure around Kern’s wrists.

“Colghain,” Gideon said, “Some help, please.”

Kit turned quickly, realizing that Sylvia Gooden, who had just been nearly suffocated, was still crying and panicking with flex cuffs around her wrists. 

She wasn’t done yet.

The two steps to the bed were swift, and Gideon stepped aside as she spoke to the traumatized woman. “Hi, my name is Kit. I’m a nurse, and I’m going to check and make sure you’re okay. Is it alright if I touch you?”

Gooden looked up at her for a moment before she nodded stiffly, taking a deep breath before dissolving into hysterics. 

Kit grabbed her hands and squeezed gently, giving the older woman a small smile despite all the crazy going on around them.

“You’re going to be okay,” she said. “I promise. It’s all going to be okay.”

-----

Kit sat next to Reid on the jet, which was odd, because she normally tried to keep herself as far away from everyone as possible. She’d gotten a very strange read off of Hotch, though, who had secluded himself in the corner she usually would have taken, so she figured the conversation would keep her awake if anything else.

It didn’t stop her from propping a blue notebook open in her lap and tapping at it quietly with her pen. They were laughing at a story Ryan was telling about Gideon that made him seem almost human, and the laughter she shared was genuine. Gideon had stepped aside for her to take the lead with Gooden, which meant he was going to be true to his word when they were in the field. Stay out of each other’s way, and things will be fine. 

She just hoped it would last.

“What goes in that notebook?”

She looked up at Reid’s voice, noticing that while she’d allowed herself to be in her own head for fifteen seconds, everyone had splintered into their own conversations. Elle had even walked away from them, and was now engaged in a quiet conversation with Hotch.

“Hm?”

He nodded down at the blue notebook in her lap. “What goes in there? I’ve only ever seen the red one, and that’s where you write all of our medical information, and things that happen to us medically during cases. Like when I was sick in New Jersey. But that didn’t happen this time, nothing did, and that notebook is blue, and it’s much more worn, and -” He stopped short, frowning. “I’m rambling.”

She shook her head quickly. “No, it’s alright. I don’t mind. I was waiting for you to be done before I answered your question.”

Reid’s eyes widened a bit, his jaw dropping for just a moment before he seemed to right himself. “Most people don’t wait until I’m done.”

“It’s a skill I picked up in college. It’s hard to help someone if you won’t listen to their entire story.”

“Huh,” he said. He seemed to think on that for a moment before he said, “So, what’s it for?”

She blinked up at him. “Oh.”

She hadn’t thought she’d actually have to answer. She was sort of hoping that he would talk himself in circles until he was on another topic completely. He’d done it a few times over the short time she’d known him.

“Oh?”

“Well, it’s sort of personal,” she settled on.

“Like a journal? A diary?”

If he noticed she was blushing, he didn’t let on. “A little bit, it’s like-” She stopped short as she saw JJ move from her seat towards the coffee machine, and her brain flipped a completely different switch. “Sorry, I need to talk to JJ,” she said, and before he could protest, she’d dropped the notebook on her seat and was across the short length of the plane.

“Hey, JJ,” she said, causing the blonde to turn around and smile. 

“Hey, coffee?”

“No, actually I-” She hadn’t quite thought the rest out. “I um.”

She found her hands grabbing for the ends of her hair, but she stopped herself before she could start tugging. She was far too late on her meds, which were officially out of whack, considering the fact that she hadn’t slept in two days. She wasn’t even sure what day it was.

“Is today Sunday?” She said, which was not at all how she’d intended to start the conversation she wanted to have. 

JJ laughed. “I have no idea. Maybe? When we left it was the middle of the night, so I would need to check my phone.”

“Right,” Kit said, easing a bit and giving a quiet laugh of her own. “I um. Well, I wanted to tell you that I thought about what you said.”

JJ tilted her head, eyebrows pulling together. “What I said?”

“What you said about pushing back.”

“Ah,” JJ said, eyes flashing with recognition. “And?”

“I… Claudia really threw me.”

Her head tilted before she said, “The woman they found under the bed?”

Kit shivered. “Yeah.” She didn’t regard the moment with fondness. 

JJ didn’t seem to notice. She thought for a moment before shrugging. “I heard Morgan telling Gideon that you were incredible with her. That you didn’t leave when EMS got there because she didn’t want you to.”

Kit shook her head quickly, deflecting the praise. “I didn’t really do anything. She just… I don’t think she wanted all those men around her without another woman around.”

“And you were that woman for her.”

Kit stopped for a moment, watching JJ’s eyes soften. She was going to deflect again - insist that she’d done exactly what anyone else would have done, but something stopped her. 

“I want to be here,” she heard herself saying. She hadn’t had time to process it herself, but it seemed she was going to do it outloud, in real time. “I want to be a part of this, but I’m scared. Because there will be more Claudias. And more Sylvias… And more Kerns.” She moved a hand to play with the seam at the hip of her slacks. “And we won’t always get there in time. I won’t always get there in time.”

The two women stood in silence for a moment before JJ reached out and took Kit’s right hand off her braid, squeezing it gently between her own fingers.

“But we’ll always try. And sometimes?” She shrugged. “We win.”

Kit took a deep breath, allowing that thought to fill her senses. Sylvia Gooden was alive. Claudia was alive. Kern lost. 

“I think you should talk to Hotch when we get back. Not now. You look exhausted.”

They both laughed, Kit’s a little lackluster. “It’s that obvious?”

“You’ve got two black eyes.”

“Damn.” Kit shook her head, averting her eyes from JJ’s before saying, “Thank you. For listening and telling me what you knew and for making me feel like I deserve to be here.”

JJ nodded, saying simply, “You do.” She gestured to the coffee machine again. “You sure you don’t want some?”

Kit laughed, shaking her head again. “No, really, I shouldn’t. My body doesn’t know what time it is already, I think that would put me in dangerous territory.”

She stood on the Red Line platform, struggling to keep her eyes open. She pinched the skin between her thumb and forefinger, trying anything subtle to get her from point A to point B as quickly as possible. It was already dark, and she didn’t need to fall asleep on the train, or worse, while standing and waiting for the train. 

That would really cap this weekend. Falling asleep on the train, missing your stop, getting abducted…

“Do you have a headache?”

“Ah!” She jumped, turning over her shoulder and swearing loudly. “Reid, what the hell?”

“Sorry!” He said, ducking just a bit, as if he was worried she was going to strike him. “That pressure point is effective in relieving headaches, grounding panic attacks, and quelling nausea. Are you sick?”

She groaned and rolled her eyes. “No, that’s not- I know exactly what this pressure point is used for Spencer, what the hell are you doing here? At my train stop? Again? I told you that I don’t-”

“I wanted to make sure you got home safely,” he said quickly, cutting her off before she could really get going. The anxious sincerity flooding off of him stopped her long enough for him to continue. “The odds of being accosted on the Red Line are significantly lower than the Blue, but you’re exhausted, and this case made you nervous, so I just wanted to be sure you…” He slowed, a dark flush rising in his cheeks. “Got home safe. Which I’m sure you can on your own, because your field scores dwarf mine. I, um…”

He had stuttered to a halt.

He’s embarrassed. And he wanted to help you.

She didn’t have time or energy to process the fact that he’d most definitely profiled her. The sentiment was sort of touching.

Sort of, as far as Spencer Reid was concerned. 

“This… isn’t a Gideon thing?”

Reid chuckled quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “No. It’s, ah, a me thing. Gideon offered me a ride home, but I said no.”

She tilted her head at him, frowning as the train squealed into the station. “No shit?”

He laughed again, shaking his head and offering a small smile, his cheeks still flushed, but relief in his eyes. “No shit.”

“...Fine. But only because I’m really tired… You know, you could have said all this, or offered, in the bullpen, right? You didn’t have to follow me to the train like a stalker.”

The blush flooded his cheeks again, and he shrugged, unable to meet her eyes. “I didn’t want you to yell at me or something in front of everyone else.”

Her heart sank. 

Look what you’ve done, Kody. You made him anxious to be alone with you because he thinks you’re some crazy person that’s going to fly off the handle.

Well, aren’t you?

“I wouldn’t do that, Spencer,” She said, starting towards the train door. “I appreciate the concern… thanks.”

He looked up, eyes flashing a combination of relief and hesitance. “Oh. Yeah. Ah, yeah, sure.”

They sat down inside the train, Kit immediately leaning her head against the window. She sighed, closing her eyes.

Maybe Reid isn’t so bad. Maybe he’ll stay quiet, or read the whole way and you can actually get a short-

“You know, there’s a staggering amount of germs on the window on a DC train. Approximately 45% of people…”

-----

Spencer stalked away from her door, his long legs making him look somewhat like a baby giraffe as he turned to descend the stairs. He gave a last, incredibly awkward wave.

“See you tomorrow, Dakota,” he said.

She fought back the instinct to groan. “Bye Reid, thanks.”

He grinned as his head slipped below her sight line and she let out a sigh, her entire body seeming to settle into exhaustion. It was late, and dark, and hopefully she would be able to slip into the apartment and deal with her siblings in the morning before she left for work. She’d talk to Monty then, and Ari at the clinic, and everything would be fine.

She’d need to call Ginny, but she could do that in the morning as well. She needed to sleep first. Sleep, and then deal with whatever came.

Her hand fumbled a bit with the key as she tried to fit it correctly into the door, eyes dry and tired and brain scrambled. The residual jittery, anxious feeling of both the case and messing the the time on her medication wasn’t helping her fine motor skills, and she’d nearly resigned to search through her backpack for the flashlight she kept when the doorknob was ripped away from her hand, the door flying open. 

Something hard slammed into her body, arms wrapping around her in a vice grip and knocking the wind out of her.

Instead of words, there were hitching sobs from her attacker. Congested sounding, sad, and overly frustrated, matched with hot tears that were falling onto her shoulder. She took a breath, wrapping her arms around Monty and holding her as close as she could.

“Shh, it’s okay, dair, I’m okay,” she mumbled quietly, feeling her twin’s arms tighten around her. 

“Don't… ever do that,” Monty managed, voice gravely and tearful. “Never, ever.”

“Oi, Mont, what-” Ari turned the corner, making eye contact with Kit over their sister’s shoulder. She watched physical tension release in his shoulders. “Ah. Okay. Mont, deirfiúr, come in and close the door. She’s okay. We’re fine.”

The mixing of languages wrapped around Kit, filling her like a breath she hadn’t taken in days. Monty let go, rubbing furiously at her streaming eyes as she walked back through the door, settling down on their couch and curling herself into a ball.

Ari pulled Kit through the door, looking at Monty and shaking his head. There was no need for the mix now, they could speak as they did among themselves. “Ah, no, get up. Come on. She’s tired, you’re sick. Bed. Now.”

Kit didn’t know how it happened, but they all ended up in Ari’s bed. Granted, it was the biggest. He didn’t share a room, and he was significantly taller than both she and Monty had ever hoped to be. They’d slept all together as children often, and when they were first living in the district on the floor at Ginny’s, they ended up in some sort of pile of limbs the nights they all worked the same shifts. 

Now they rarely did. Six months before when they were back at home after Al needed to get his appendix out. A year before that when their Grandad had died. Before that? She wasn’t sure she remembered. 

Monty’s head rested on her chest, quiet congested snoring coming from her in even breaths. Her face was flushed; from fever or crying, Kit wasn’t sure.

She’d been nearly pulled into Ari’s lap, and now her head rested on his stomach, rising and falling just slightly as he slept. 

Regardless of how incredibly exhausted she was, she forced herself to stay awake and listen. To feel them breathing. To be sure they were there, and alive.

JJ’s words played in her head. 

You do.

She deserved to be with the BAU. She deserved to be there.

Her senses focused back in on her cúpla, and the stress she’d caused them. The fear. The anxiety.

But do you really want to be?

-----

It's me again!

The plan right now is to make each season (year?) a different story, with a different song as the title and lyrics for the chapters. I'm a music person, this is the only way I operate.

If you've heard a song that made you feel feelings, hit me with it!

[lettersofwrittencollective]

Your eyes light up the night sky

Let me know your thoughts!

Author: @lettersofwrittencollective​ Pairing: Stiles x Reader

Word Count: 1947

Warnings: None

Prompt:  None 

A/N: So this was actually inspired by a Stiles Imagine written by @stelenna​ which can be found here (Her writing will be the italics)  It just kind of stuck in my head and this is what came of it. Thank you very much for letting me write this! I hope that you enjoy. (tagging @stelenna as requested, @justauthoring because they want to read more)

Masterlist || Teen Wolf Masterlist

~

Stiles was finally okay. Void Stiles was no more and everything was back to normal.

“Is anyone going to tell him about y/n?” Lydia asked. Scott, Kira and Allison all stood around him.

“What about y/n?”

Lydia froze. She had been so worried about Y/N that she hadn’t noticed Stiles and Scott walking up behind her. Slowly, she turned around to face the two boys. 

The silence fell heavily on the group, no one wanting to be the one to tell Stiles what happened. No one sure how to even break the news to him. Stiles noticed that no one was looking at him. Kira’s eyes were flickering to everyone in the group. Isaac had his lips pursed but was staring towards the nurses station. Lydia and Scott just looked at each other but he could tell there was an unspoken conversation.

Stiles had only heard your name leave Lydia's lips and she had sounded worried. As he looked at the group, it took his tired brain a moment to figure out that they were short a member but as he did, he was immediately filled with dread. “Scott, where is Y/N?” he whispered as he turned to look at his best friend.

Scott took a deep breath before answering “She’s with Deaton..” he answered slowly.

“But she’s not supernatural.”

Scotts hand came up to rub the back of his head. He looked around before speaking, his voice shaky and unsure, “Stiles, Void - Void did something to her and we’re not sure what it was but she’s -” Scott trailed off not sure how to really describe what was going on with you.

“She’s what Scott?” Stiles voice was hard, like he was getting angry. A part of him was, he know that if Void had something to you then it was his hand, it was his body that had inflicted the damage and he had no idea what it was. The bigger part of him, though, was terrified. He could remember everything from his time with Void, at least he thought he did. The thing was, he couldn’t remember seeing you in the last few weeks.

Immediately, he knew this was wrong and his breathing rapidly increased and, very quickly, he began gasping and wheezing, trying to catch his breath.  Seeing this, Lydia stepped forward and placed her hand on his arm “Stiles! Stiles! Listen to my voice! Listen to me. You need to breathe. Come on, breathe in… breathe out…” It took him a few minutes but Stiles was able to slow his breathing to somewhat normal.

“We’re not actually sure what’s going on with her that’s why she’s with Deaton right now.”

“What do you mean?”

Motioning for him to follow, Lydia began walking out of the hospital and to the parking lot. “I mean, that whatever it is that Void did to her, it’s not normal and we couldn’t bring her here. She’s jumping back and forth between something but we don’t know what.”

Scott had followed behind Lydia and Stiles, the rest of the group currently staying inside the hospital. He put his hand on Stiles’ shoulder and when the boy turned to look at him, he nodded his head “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out” he whispered as he pulled his friend into a hug. Stiles arms wrapped around Scott instantaneously before he stepped back and ran his hand through his hair in a moment of agitation.

“I need to go see her.”

Scott nodded and opened the passenger door to Roscoe. It was a testament to how worried Stiles was that he did not argue and simply got in. Scott jogged around to the other side and got situation while Lydia slipped into the back seat. The entire drive from the hospital to the animal clinic, Stiles leg kept bouncing, his fingers drumming. He had a thousand questions to ask his friends but he had no real idea where to begin. There had already been so much loss and he didn’t want to lose you too. None of them did.

Getting to the clinic, Stiles was already out of the car and running to the doors before Scott had even put the car in park. He ran into the back room, and didn’t see you or Deaton in the back room and he began to fear the worst, he ran into the room with the kennels

“Y/N!”

“Y/N!”

“Y/N!”

The dogs became excited and started barking, trying to get Stiles’ attention but he paid them no mind. He ran out of the kennels and into Deatons office  “Deaton! Where is -” he stopped abruptly when he saw you.

You sat there, a blanket covering your shoulders as you rubbed your arms with your hands. Yet still you were shivering. There were bags under your eyes but you smiled softly at him, “Hey Stiles…” your voice sounded hoarse, as if the vocal cords were no longer used to moving against each others. He breathed a sigh of relief and rushed towards you,

“What happened?”

“It’s nothing. I promise.”

“Then why are you here?” Stiles asked you. He turned your head to him, briefly noting the cold feeling on his skin and actually looked at you for the first time. The bags under your eyes had distracted him from the bruises on your throat but as soon as he saw them, his eyes went wide. Tentatively, he reached out towards your neck and watched you flinch. It was then that something occurred to him, before he could really think about it, you had already pulled away from his outstretched hand, a small gasp escaping your lips. Stiles looked back at your face, the fear you tried so hard to hide a knife to his heart. He stepped backwards almost falling on his but and you realized instantly you had reacted the way you promised not to. You’re hand reached out for him and you latched onto his wrist. “It’s nothing i promise,” you repeated the mantra to him.

Looking down, to your hand, Stiles saw that there were intricate markings there that reminded him of tattoos. He stared at the one wrapping your wrist and as he stared at it, he realized that your touch was frozen. Eyes flicked to your hand then back up to your face. “Please.. What happened?  Did I do this.”

“Not you, you could never Stiles. It was Void.”

“But it was my body”

“But it wasn’t you… Please… Please don’t make me.. I- I I can’t.”

Lydia and Scott stood at the door, as they realized that you weren’t going to be able to tell him, Lydia walked over to you, sat on the arm of the seat you were in and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You leaned your head over, against her side and closed your eyes. Scott looked at Deaton for help. Lydia leaned over and whispered something in your ear while Deaton began.

“The best we can tell, and mind you Y/N isn’t even sure about all of it… he held her in some icy chamber. She should be - well - dead.. But she’s somehow still here. When Scott found her…”

“She was dead.. I couldn’t find a pulse and there was no heartbeat but as I was pulling her out, she suddenly gasped and was here again. Kind of like -”

“When we were the sacrifices…”

The room was silent for a moment. Scott, Lydia and Deaton all looked at Stiles who was looking at you. His whole demeanor screamed that he wanted to say something but he had no idea where to even begin. You cracked an eye open and took in the group, leaning up, you pushed up from Lydia. “Guys can you give us a minute..”

A moment later, the room was clear. You looked at Stiles and moved towards him. He went to help you up but as soon as you were standing, he stepped back out of your reach. Well, it was more that you were out of his reach.  You went to step towards him but he took a couple large steps back.

“Don’t..”

“Stiles”

“What if- what if I hurt you again?”

“Didn’t you hear me, that wasn’t you it was Void..”

“How do you know I’m not Void?”

“Because Void never looked so hurt”

“But you don’t even remember all of it!”

“But he was gleeful when he would see me in pain. I don’t see that in you right now. All I see is Stiles. The same guy who will come over to my house at two o’clock in the morning because I had a nightmare and can’t sleep.” With each word you spoke, you moved cautiously closer to him so that he wouldn’t bolt. “The same guy who kept working with me on my math until i finally understood. The guy who comes over and makes me watch Star Wars with him after I make him watch Vikings.” By this time you were standing directly in front of him. “If none of that is good enough, then how about the fact that i’m staring at the same eyes i fell in love with when I was eight years old. Eyes that light up the whole night sky. Eyes that are filled with fire and passion…” He was looking at you as if though he couldn’t believe a word you were saying and you weren’t sure if he had actually processed your unexpected confession. Shaking your head, you moved a strand of hair behind your ear. “If none of these reasons are good enough for you.. Then what if I said Lydia told me… You trust Lydia...”

Swallowing, Stiles nodded his head slowly before whispering “ok..”

You gave him a tired smile before wrapping your arms around him. His arms encircled your waist and you placed your ear to his heart, listening to the steady beating. He kissed your head the way he always did after a nightmare and the two of you stood there in comfortable silence as Stiles allowed himself to realize you were safe.

It took a couple months, you would unexpectedly flinch when he reached for you and Stiles apologized a million times to you. He treated you as if you were fragile for a little while but the two of you slowly began to return to normal. Thankfully, the supernatural seemed to relax a little bit.

One day, the two of you were at his house watching Star Wars in his room. You ran downstairs to grab a new water bottle from the fridge when you felt eyes on you. You were about to ask him what he wanted when his voice broke the silence “You know, I fell in love with you when we were still in diapers. I just didn’t know what it was.” You didn’t say a word as your mind flashed back to the night all those months ago Stiles just continued “and if my eyes light up a night sky, it’s only because they’re looking at the sun itself. You’ve always seen the good in the world and you’ve always seen me. Regardless of what was going on, you have always seen me. You have always known me.”

You couldn’t help the smile that was on your lips as you turned around. “You actually heard those words?”

“Yup.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything then?”

“You wouldn’t have believed me. With everything going on, you would have tried to explain it away and then after, well I couldn’t very well tell you that I loved you when you were still unconsciously flinching away - you would have felt like crap. Now though- now we’re ok and there’s nothing crazy for you to be able to explain this away with” Stiles reached his hand out and cupped your cheek before tilting your head up and placing his lips against yours.

Masterlist || Teen Wolf Masterlist

[finsterhund]

tired and weak

I don’t know if I’m going to be able to bounce back.

I don’t know if I’m stable or functional right now.

I am no longer spending days weeping, getting the violent psychotic meltdowns or other overtly physical symptoms but I don’t think I’m okay.

But I can’t keep myself shut up not doing any of the things I like to do online because isolating myself is not helping me. I only did it because my psychotic episode was causing me to hurt my friends. I did this for them, but it’s not helping me beyond cutting off things that my psychosis could latch onto. It is more than capable of doing it on its own.

I am coming to terms with how my situation is not healthy, it is not sustainable, and it is not safe.

I feel that I am not safe and I do not have anyone I can trust. That my environment is unhealthy and is continuing to retraumatize me and that I am not receiving adequate care.

I am unable at this time to tell how much of this is delusion and how much is that people in my life are actually a danger to me. Psychosis is like that. But things have been getting clearer on many relationships and issues.

My roommate told me that he is going to be writing a letter to the landlord to try and convince them that I need to get my service dog and if that works I wouldn’t need to take it to court. But I can’t tell if that’s just an empty promise. I feel like I am being told what I want to hear in an effort to keep me under control. That I am being satiated just enough so I don’t get violent or kill myself. But that my environment is never going to improve in its current state.

There’s been a lot of empty promises. And with my psychosis makes the already difficult issues impossible to navigate.

I am very disabled. I know I type really well and talk a big game, all bark and no bite though basically. Truth is I am unable to take care of myself. And with covid and me being high risk I don’t know if I am capable to put myself into a new situation/environment where I can thrive at this time. I am at the mercy of whoever I can find as a guardian. This is not healthy, and is something that I cannot yet find an escape from. All that it seems I can do is hold on and wait until an opportunity presents itself, to submit to the freeze and fawn response until I’m able to make my move. A move I will need support that I can’t even begin to wrap my head around to make.

Obviously “cringing and waiting” isn’t something that severe mental illnesses are going to be play nice with. And this is why I am unstable.

I must stress that I am not an independent. I am not functional in society as an independent. And even with my service dog this may stay the same financially. I am stunted, slow, whatever gentle word you want to call mental retardation. And that on top of debilitating mental disorders and trauma disorders prevents me from functioning on my own.

I cannot have a job. I cannot leave the house by my own. I have a learning disability surrounding numbers, time, math, etc. I am slow enough that it is extremely difficult for me to go about daily adult tasks that most people take for granted. My physical body being shit just ads to that and makes me slow in an equally useless and infuriating way.

It is very easy to take advantage of me. And the combination of me being a dependent when combined with that is dangerous for my health.

I will be making a doctor appointment for the explicit purpose of getting a note to try and pressure the landlord. I know that once me and my service dog are a working team more opportunities to become more independent and to get myself out of this situation will be presenting themselves. But nothing can happen immediately, yet at the same time I am suffering from things not being resolved immediately.

I am living in a way that is constantly exposing me to stress and pain. And I have acknowledged I need to get out of it but don’t yet have the means to know how.

I do have friends who may be capable of helping, but the virus has put a roadblock on that help for now.

Things like moving, programs for people with disabilities, hospital visits, etc. have all been made impossible by the virus.

I have ruled out moving back in with my mother. Even though she has improved and I definitely see her as a victim of abuse and living with undiagnosed mental illnesses of her own it just is not safe for me to live with her.

The only thing I can do now is make the effort to try and protect myself from the things that are hurting me emotionally that I am currently incapable of getting away from.

And trying to push towards my dog.

Everything else is waiting for things to be capable of changing.

I have pinpointed what I believe triggered this week’s psychotic break. Residual trauma from the first Christmas spent knowing the holiday killed Zippy, combined with frequent exposure to traumatic stimuli and unhealthy power dynamics, financial and social stress, as well as an increased lack of support regarding being invalid.

I am not in a healthy situation.

I began to sniff out bad people with the intent to keep track of them to make sure they weren’t planning to hurt me. This is the same maladaptive strategy I have been using to make sure my birth father wasn’t planning to kill everyone at my mom’s house way back when. In reality, exposing myself to the evil culture of bad people is not helping me psychologically. And I am powerless to actually kill them like I wish I could. But I felt like I had some level of control knowing their every move after I have no control in the situations I am spending my daily life in. It’s like drinking a poison so you can ignore a gunshot wound. I wish I could treat the wound, but drinking the poison makes me forget about it for a while. Both are unhealthy, but the act of creating a new problem makes it easier to ignore the initial one that I have no ability to change. At the cost of my rapidly fraying mental stability.

My environment is not one that I can control. And it is not one that I can currently fix or leave.

For my safety I am not capable of going into detail about certain people and their effect on my health. Being a dependent means that this directly can threaten me at an already vulnerable time.

I need to get out of my current situation, but am incapable of doing so. This has caused an extreme amount of stress to build up to the point that my antipsychotics weren’t enough to keep me safe. I was told that even being on anti psychotics you can still experience episodes and down periods. Which is scary to think about.

But I have no avenue to change this situation at this time.

I do not know if I am fit to hold communications with people right now. I will not be returning to social groups until I am told explicitly that it is okay to do so. By my primary care physician, by my psychiatrist, and by the people I socialize with themselves. But I will now state that anyone may come to me with the explicit understanding that I don’t know if I am rational or mentally safe right now. You will be communicating with me at your own risk and understand that I may still be experiencing heightened amounts of unreality and delusions.

I am no longer experiencing violent symptoms. I have made the steps to prevent myself from doomscrolling and keeping tabs on my abusers. But I understand that I am not above the possibility of lapsing back into doing this.

I am now on my pain meds again. Being off them for an extended period of time was likely contributing to my psychological pain despite these meds themselves not being addictive, the relief they give me might have been.

I am currently only with 3 dolars in my bank account and 5 dollars cash. I will be getting paid in 12 days. I should have enough food to last me this long. It is stressful, but I was already anticipating this situation to happen at this time.

I am extremely sorry for allowing my delusions and sickness to hurt innocent people. It was not my intent to cause pain to others. Whilst I would like to explicitly remind people that my mental illness directly influences how I perceive reality and this can make it impossible to tell if I am justified in my actions at times, it still doesn’t make up for the pain it may cause in the process.

Friends have expressed pain at me saying that I am not recieving help and nobody is helping me despite them trying to support me online.

Please understand that I appreciate the energy you are sending my way, but I am explicitly venting about my living situation that you nor I have any way of fixing. In the future to help my friends not feel like I am ignoring their attempts at helping me I have created this disclaimer that I will be putting on posts about situations that online friends cannot help or change. I hope this will alleviate the pain of your efforts not solving my problems.

I appreciate everything people try to do for me, even if my mental illness makes me not see it at the time. I understand it is very difficult to be close to someone who doesn’t perceive reality properly all the time, and I may not always show it when I am being helped due to one issue being immediately replaced by another, but I do appreciate.

I have been told that despite me being clingy that I tend to push people away and isolate myself when I am hurting. This is because I was abused and treated badly for expressing clinginess. This included targeted stalking when I was still a minor. My brain had it beaten into me that if I was clingy towards people they would hate me and not want to be my friend. As a result I experience clinginess by violently wishing I could be close to them while trying to hide that from them and give them space. If anything this presents itself as persecutory jealousy. It is something I am trying to stop doing.

I also apologize for friends trying to do things with me, encourage me, socialize with me, and me being too exhausted to appreciate or join in. This is equal parts my distress at my living situation, my mental health, and my physical health. I spend most of my life far too exhausted to consistently socialize except for manic periods where I am desperate to do so. Again, the solution to this issue is post-covid changes to my living situation and the resources I have access to.

The point that I think sums this up though is that I cannot keep living like this. I will continue breaking down, I will continue having episodes, and I will continue lashing out. Violence is and always has been my answer to fear in situations I cannot change or leave.

I don’t know if there’s a way to fix this during covid, but I KNOW there isn’t an immediate way to fix this before I get my service dog.

Additionally: I do not want to be institutionalized, being trapped in a psych ward when you are not explicitly a danger to yourself or someone else will only make you worse, and calling police for “wellness checks” on disabled people who have ugly/scary mental illnesses will get them killed. Please understand that the system itself will not help me. I need to find a different solution. This unfortunately does involve jumping through hoops that I cannot at this time.

Again, I would like to state that I will be trying to return online, but I will not be engaging with people who haven’t explicitly come TO ME until my doctor, my psychiatrist, and those people themselves, let me know that I am allowed to do so. Please be advised that I may not currently be in a safe place mentally.

I will be trying to interact with art and media that I enjoy with minimal social contact with people outside of those who have come to me and are okay with that. Stressful things i will make every attempt to ignore.