#and since then i have relapsed two times in the past two years

[mainfaggot]

tw eating disorder talk in the tags btw. just me being open for the first time in a long time but no numbers or specifics that could be triggering do nawt worry

[cryinginmyroomsposts]

decipher you | Woozi one-shot

Pairing: Lee Jihoon x fem. Reader

tags: angst, fluff, established relationship, yearning, happy ending, good surprises, a pov switch at the end (just for funsies)

a/n: It's been eons since i wrote on here and a sudden woozi brain rot caused me to write this. not proofread and please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions or fics

masterlist

It’s way past sunset and well into the next day. Hey you can’t help but keep staring at the clock, your phone and the door. The same order. Every 15 seconds.

Clock. Phone. Door. A heavy sigh… Silence… Clock. Phone. Door. A sigh… Silence…

You should go to sleep, you are aware. But the flicker of hope in you has not died yet. He’ll be home before sunrise… today.

You had the same thought for the fifth night in a row. And the last four days you’d been proven wrong.

Yet here you sit, on the edge of your soft brown couch- handpicked by your Jihoon, looking and hoping for any signs of him showing up for a full night’s sleep.

Jihoon always tiptoed in at the early hours of the day- dragging his messy hair and droopy eyes slowly to lay beside you on the bed. Every morning you pretended you didn’t notice him come in. You pretend you didn’t notice his exhausted sigh as his head hits the bed. You pretend you didn’t notice the light peck he gives you even as sleep threatens to take him away. You pretend not to smile as he says the same thing each morning- “Love you baby. I’ll do better tomorrow.”

And each day you pretend you have faith in his sleepy promise. But why wouldn’t you?

This is Jihoon. Your Jihoon.

The same person who stood through your strenuous years of doctorate degree madness. The Jihoon who held your hand through countless vaccinations, never once complaining that you’re too old to cry about needles. The same Jihoon who always cooks every weekend for the two of you, no matter the amount of pressure he is in.

This is the Jihoon who flew 14 hours across the globe to be with you during your thesis presentation.

This is the Jihoon who took a stand against his company and the industry to proudly announce you as his partner and dedicate multiple love songs to you.

This is the Jihoon who learnt your language to talk to you and your parents in your mother tongue.

The is the Jihoon who married you in your home country even if it meant having to fly out his family and friends across the globe.

This is Jihoon. Your whole universe for the last decade. You trust him with everything in this world and know him like the back of your hand.

But even after all these years, you can’t decipher him.

The way he goes silent suddenlymakes it almost impossible to understand if it’s a good, bad, or nothing silent.

Of course, over the years he has learned to let you in on his thoughts. But once in a while, he relapses into this shell of his. This regression happens in higher intensities during the song production time. He is more present during dance practices and comebacks. But when Jihoon is in Producer Woozi mode, he forgets everyone and everything for hours (and sometimes days) on end.

You had gotten used to it for the most part. Usually, this wouldn’t have annoyed or irked you the way it is right now.

But this time, it’s different.

Your world turned around in the last three days and the one person who needs to hear it isn’t there. The one person your heart is leaping out to isn’t there to hold it. This one time you wished life’s timing wasn’t cruel.

There are a lot of things in life you are capable of accomplishing on your own.

But you know how important his work is to Jihoon. After 13 years in this field, the incredulous passion he still carries is commendable. And after everything he and the team has been through, they’re finally enjoying their craft and you’d be the last person to disturb that equilibrium.

Jihoon’s craft is special. His dedication and work ethic are special. You knew he didn’t like to be interrupted or questioned during his process. And god knows you didn’t want to do that.

But you need Jihoon, now more than ever.

So you look up at the clock once again. 1:05 AM Sigh… You turn on your phone once again. No New Notifications. Sigh… You run your hand through your hair. Holding your breath in, you look at the door. Silence… Sig-

The clicking sounds on the door awaken your soul. One-click. One push. The door swings open and there he is- Jihoon. Your Jihoon. Same fluffy, messy hair. The old worn down black hoodie. Droopy eyes now wide open in surprise.

“Baby. Why are you awake? It’s so late.” He says as he kneels next to you after removing his shoes.

“Jihoon-ah…” your voice comes out in a croak. You haven’t uttered a since the last 5 hours you were at home.

“Hmm?” He looks at you with stars in his eyes. The eye bags prominent as the light hits his face. He’s the most beautiful human you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Before you could speak he begins, as his one palm draws circles on your thighs and the other holding your hip. “I’m really really sorry baby… I know I haven’t been present in a while. The company has been pressing us for variety and I’ve been breaking my head about it.”

A pause as he lays his head on your lap and looks at you.

“But today I got it baby. I did it.” His smile lights up his whole face. Pure happiness gleaming from his eyes. This version of Jihoon was one of your favourite. The one gleaming with pride, grinning with joy and enjoying every bit of satisfaction that comes with the kind of dedication only he can pour into his art.

So you smiled, mirroring his happiness.

“I’m so proud of you honey. Can’t wait to hear it soon!”

“You’ll be the first one to hear it.” He says grinning. Your raise your eyebrows and he giggles. The sound of heaven.

“I mean after the team you’ll be the first to hear it.”

Both of you laugh, a soft ringing laughter echoing through the walls of the home you built for yourselves.

You clear your throat slightly.

“Jihoon I need to tell you something…”

“Yes?” He says in the middle of a yawn.

He looks so exhausted in the moment that he looks 10 years younger.

You decided to wait another day.

“I… just needed to tell you… that I missed you… a lot.” Your words come out in a whisper. Barely audible but you know he heard it by the way he shifts on your lap like a little cat.

“I know baby… I’m sorry.”

You sigh. He was sorry and you knew it.

“You could’ve texted me”

He grumbles an apology into your thighs.

“Jihoon you told me you’d communicate better… we’ve been through this cycle before. You’re always going to be creating music, but the least you can do is let me know. You promised me jagi…”

More grumbles as he manoeuvres himself to settle against your stomach.

Your heart skips a beat.

“I understand work is hard. And I’m an adult so I understand even if it’s difficult. But… but your child won’t be able to…”

By the end of your sentence, you could barely hear yourself. But the way Jihoon freezes against you is proof enough that he heard you.

A moment passes and there is no reaction from him. Another moment.

And what feels like a million tiny moments later, Jihoon’s messy head pops up away from your stomach to your face.

His eyes are glistening and big like boba balls. You hold your breath trying to n to read his face. The creases in his forehead and the straight closed mouth slowly give way to the tiniest smile.

That’s all the sign you need as you break into a huge smile.

He looks at your smile, his own mirroring it, and then down at your stomach then up again at your face. He does it a few more times as you break into soft laughs.

He sits upright on his knees, his face in front of you, big wid eyes full of surprise and hope, as his hands cup your cheeks.

“Y/n… are you being serious right now?”

You nod, words too little for the happiness pouring out of in the form of tears.

Jihoon looks stunned but pulls into a close and tight hug.

Home…

When he faces you again, tears are rolling down his cheeks. “When did you find out?” “Umm… four days ago” “Baby why didn’t you tell me soo-“

The color drains from his face as he moved toward your stomach again. He hugs you around your stomach so lightly as if he’s holding a feather.

“I really am sorry jagi. I know I say it a lot but I should do better. I should’ve done better. For you. For us. And…” He looks at you with an apologetic smile, “and for our child.”

You run your fingers through his silky tousled hair. “Jihoon-ah, it’s okay. What’s done is done…”

He smiles at you.

“You have no idea how restless I’ve been waiting to tell you. To see that look on your face.” His smile grows wider and he places a peck on your very normal stomach whcih makes you giggle.

“You do know there is no actual baby in there yet right?” He pouts as he looks at you, causing more giggles on your end.

“I hope our kid doesn’t get your oversmart brain and is normal like me” he says defiantly.

You let out a snort. “Please Mr worldwide popular idol ‘Woozi’! You’re as far from normal as is possible my dear.”

“Well normal or not, I know our child will have the best dad.”

Jihoon’s cheeky comment sets of a back and forth of arguing about which one of you is better until early hours of the morning as laughter rings through the house.

———

Jihoon:

It was another night of sleeping after dawn for him. He was no stranger to a late night. But for the first time in years he feels too ecstatic to sleep.

His mind and body are buzzing with happiness at the thought of the love of his life carrying their child.

He thinks back to the 17 year old Jihoon who saw this cute girl across the street struggling to get her bags on her cycle basket snd decided to forgo his inhibitions for once and help her. He thinks back to 20 year old Jihoon who, for the first time in his life, gave a speech at a bar confessing his love for the same girl despite all his social anxiety. He thinks back to the 28 year old Jihoon who decided to talk to her parents and arrange a special performance for her on their wedding even though all he wanted was alone time with her.

He thought back to everytime he took a chance for this beautiful and smart girl, now lying next to him peacefully asleep, and he thanks every god and higher power in the universe for giving him the courage to do so.

Without her Jihoon wouldn’t know love and life. Now they have a little bundle of joy on its way just to commemorate this love they share.

And this time Jihoon was going to make sure he’d be there every step of the way.

[darkmuffinstudios]

Thought of a kinda silly Criller/Kross AU where Cross defects from Nightmare's gang and joins Dream's- only for their party to later capture and hold Killer prisoner. The others wanna kill him for his crimes, but Cross (And, deep down, Dream) convinces the others that Killer can change.

Something something they start Killer on the path to be reformed, to which *eventually* Killer gives in and actually starts doing (totally not because he loves Cross or anything haha)

I feel like the whole AU would be filled with small moments between Cross and Killer, like Cross teaching him about gentleness- and how hard it was for him to learn it too.

I think Killer slowly, over time, starts to get used to life with the others and starts being better and better. He's still Killer- that much can't really change- but that small sliver of himself, the past self, yearns for a kind of peace he's never had before.

I think eventually, the two would also help mend things between Nightmare and Dream. Despite Killer warming up to Dream after so many years of hatred, I think his loyalties still lie with Nightmare. He's been through and seen lots of stuff over the years he's probably worked with the guy, so he's probably the only one in meetings or normal chat that actually defends him.

And I think Dream eventually recognizes that and starts quietly coming to him with advice for his brother, which causes the two to bond and disnxjdkxnxuf

I think Dream would be a little sad he missed the Nightmare of recent years, and I think Killer feels bummed out he couldn't help the Nightmare from the past.

Think there would also be a time where Cross sometimes relapses into old habits which the others scorn and scold him for, and Killer is the one which stands up for him and knows how to handle it (since he's probably seen it all the time, in a worse form, back when they both worked for Nightmare). Same thing if it was reversed the other way- Cross easing tensions between everyone and making sure Killer's alright.

I don't know, I just feel like no matter where they are, they get each other the most. They may have had different pasts, different circumstances, different everything- they're still so much alike. That can cause them to butt heads sometimes, sure, but I feel like they understand despite the fighting.

[cameronspecial]

A New Kind Of Normal (Part 3)

Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Fight With A Parent, Swearing, and Fear of Relapse

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3.0K

Summary: Rafe has accomplished his goals and is now able to meet his daughter for the first time.

Masterlist

Over the past month, Rafe has gotten a chance to learn more about Stella from his weekly meetings with Y/N. Stella was born on May 17th, 2020 at 10:59 A.M. Her first word was Joshy, said at eleven months old when she was calling for help from her uncle Josh when her uncle Benedict would mercilessly tickle her. At two years old, she became obsessed with witches after her mother read her a book about them and it has been her favourite topic of conversation since. Her favourite colour is dark purple and her favourite food is any soup in general because she likes to pretend she is drinking a witch's potion when she eats it. The most important fact of all to Rafe: Stella Rachel Y/L/N is his little girl’s full name. Y/N had tried her best to come up with a name close to Rafe, but all the names closer she found on the internet didn’t go with Stella. Nonetheless, the action still touched him when Y/N told him that was the reason.

And now, he’ll finally get to meet his little star. His hand fidgets with the small nob on his watch, making the hands go clockwise and counterclockwise. He watches as Y/N reads over his toxicology report. She didn’t require him to do a weekly toxicology report to prove that he was staying sober, but he wanted to show her she could trust him. The logical part of him knows she won’t say that he can’t meet Stella, yet a small part of him fears she might. 

The small smile she gives him relieves him of his anxiety, “This is great, Button. I’m so proud of the work you put into staying sober.” Forming a friendship with Y/N was another amazing thing that happened this month. When she started using the nickname she gave him the night Stella was conceived, he felt the air leave his lungs just like it does now. “Thanks. I was really scared that I might relapse this week after I got into an argument with my dad, but I called Diana, did some breathing exercises and looked at my picture of Stella. It all helped me get through it,” he replies truthfully. He had truly felt fear that week when he found himself on the road towards Barry’s trailer. Luckily, he was able to fight through his desire and pull over the car before he got there. Y/N nods and reaches out to place a reassuring hand on his, “Well, I’m glad you were able to recognize your craving and reach out for help with managing it. So do you want to come over after we finish our coffee?” 

His lips stretch so far apart that people would think he is the Joker. He pulls out his phone to check his schedule, “No, I won’t have enough time to go home and change if I come tonight. I also need to get her a few things before I meet her. How about tomorrow afternoon? Is that okay?” “You know you don’t have to make a big deal about this with the changing and the gifts. As long as you love her and show her that love, she is going to reciprocate those feelings,” Y/N argues. 

“I know, I just… Meeting her is all I have been dreaming about for the last month and I want it to be perfect. Plus, it really couldn’t hurt to get her a few bribery toys.”

“I understand how you feel. When Benny came home the week before Stella was born with the wrong colour paint for her room, I almost threw a chair at him. I wanted Finch yellow, but he got funky yellow. It didn’t matter that they were virtually the same colour. I just need her room to be exactly how I planned it. So you can come over tomorrow. Just don’t buy her too many toys.” 

“I can’t be held to a gift-buying limit. I have to make up for five years.”

——

Y/N watches as Stella tries to get ready by herself, thinking about what is going to happen in just ten minutes. “Mommy, help, please,” Stella cries out for help. Y/N’s focus returns to her daughter and she has to stop herself from laughing. Stella has gotten her shirt stuck on her head because she has been trying to get her head through the armhole. Y/N approaches the young girl and helps put her head through the right hole. “You were almost there, Stells. I’m proud of you,” she praises, giving the little girl a kiss on the head. Stella shouts a thank you as she runs into her mom’s room. 

Y/N follows her daughter to her room and carries Stella over to the bed. Once Stella is safely on the bed, Y/N turns toward her dresser to get her perfume. “One tiny spray for this wrist,” Y/N pushes the top of the perfume so the scent falls on her daughter’s wrist. “And one tiny spray for the other. Now, you are ready to go. Why don’t you wait in the living room for Mommy’s special guest to arrive.” The little girl runs off as her mother suggested and Y/N is left alone in her room. She looks at herself in her mirror, wondering how her life is going to change once Stella meets her dad. It’s not that Y/N doesn’t trust Rafe, he has shown her that he really is trying. It’s that Stella isn’t going to be solely Y/N’s anymore. She will have to share some parenting duties with Rafe and it feels strange for her to do that. She is the one who stayed up with Stella when she was puking all night last year. She is the one who would read the little girl a bedtime story every day. She is the one Stella goes to when she is scared. Now, Y/N is going to have to learn to let Rafe do those things too. 

Rafe nervously wipes the sweat off of his palm and adjusts the hat on his head. The time on the clock shows he is five minutes early, but he can’t wait any longer. He knocks on the door and rocks on the balls of his feet. The door creaks open, yet Rafe is met with an empty doorway. It is only when he looks down that he sees the perfect little star staring up at him with her brilliant blue eyes. “Stella Rachel Y/L/N, what have I told you about answering the door to strangers?” Y/N scolds, walking into the room with an adorable motherly look. Stella looks back at her mother with a pouty look, “I’m sorry, Mommy. But I knows we were going to have a special guest.”

Rafe is in awe at how adorable she is, but he takes this as his chance to do the first fatherly act he will ever do. “Your mother is right, Stella. What if I was a stranger?” he poses, kneeling down to her level. She gives him wide eyes, “But you weren’t. You are the man who Mommy yelled at.” Her words cause pain to shoot through his heart. The first memory his little girl has of him is his argument with her mother. Y/N can see the hurt that crosses Rafe’s face and beckons the pair away from the doorway. “Yes, he is, Baby. But he apologized to Mommy and we are friends again. Did you see his hat?” Y/N points out. The small blue eyes move from his face up to his head and her eyes turn to delight. “You’re wearing a witch’s hat!” she exclaims, reaching up to her father’s head to try it on. “Can I try it on, please?” Glad that his conversation start is working, he takes the hat off and places it on her tiny head. Everyone giggles as the big hat falls over her eyes. 

Now, that the ice has been sufficiently broken, Y/N decides it is time to make the introduction Rafe has been waiting for. “Stella, do you know why I asked my special friend to come visit?” Y/N sits on the couch, bringing Stella on her lap. The little girl shakes her head and rests it on her mother’s chest. “He’s your Daddy, Baby.” The excitement in his daughter’s eyes as she turns toward him sends him over the moon. The tiny girl flings herself into her arms and screams his new name. He never thought someone would call him those words, but now it’s the only one he wants to hear. “Does that mean you can play witch with me? I have a hat you can borrow.” With her now in his arms, he can smell the familiar vanilla fragrance of Y/N’s perfume. It makes him smile that she wants to be just like her mommy. Before he can answer, she runs off to her room to get her toys. She returns dragging a big plastic cauldron behind her. Rafe feels his father's instinct kick in. He jumps off of the couch and runs over to pick her and the cauldron up in his arms. Stella looks at him in awe, “Wow, my Daddy is super strong.” This absolutely kills him and he kisses her on the cheek. 

——

Y/N, Stella and Rafe have spent the afternoon playing various games their daughter wanted to play. When it got closer to dinner time, the three of them worked together to make something to eat. “Button, can you please pour me some more water?” Y/N asks, holding up her glass for him to do it. He picks up the water pitcher and pours it for her, “Of course, Buttercup.” Stella may be three and eleven months old, but she is very observant. Throughout the afternoon, she noticed the tiny glances Rafe would send Y/N’s way. She noticed how his hand would reach to find her skin, yet it never seemed to land. She noticed how he would always ask for Y/N’s approval. And just now, she saw how his lips formed a massive smile because of her mother’s attention. 

The small girl starts to form a plan in her head; she can see how much her father is pining for her mother. He clearly needs her help. “Mommy, I like Daddy’s hair. Do you?” she questions, looking back and forward between her parents. Y/N looks up from her food to look at Rafe, “I do like his hair. It looks nice when the front of his hair falls down like a little curtain.” He stops mid-stab of the pasta to look up at her through his lashes. “I’ll take note of that then, Buttercup,” he brings his hand up to hide the blush on his cheeks. Stella is very satisfied with the results of the beginning of her plan. She feels like a genius. Y/N doesn’t know that she is going to regret letting Stella watch Hallmark movies with her. 

——

After dinner, Rafe is preparing for the roughly hour-and-a-half drive back to the Outer Banks. Stella is holding on to Rafe for dear life because she isn’t ready for him to go. “Mommy, why can’t Daddy stay?” she begs, looking at her mother sadly. Y/N frowns at her daughter, “I’m sorry, Baby. Not yet, there is nowhere for him to sleep. Plus, Daddy has work tomorrow and you have daycare.” Rafe can see the struggle Y/N is having with saying no to Stella and he helps her out. “How about I go over to the diner on Friday? I’ll be there when you get back from daycare. Maybe I’ll even have a surprise,” he offers, whispering the last part in her ear. 

The darling’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree and loosens her arms from his neck. “Okay! I can’t wait to see you. Bye, Daddy. I love you,” she bids adieu. She hops down from his arms and runs to get ready for bed. The quicker she goes to bed, the faster Friday comes. Rafe calls back I love you. The two adults laugh at the child as they watch her run off. The laughter dies down and Y/N turns her body toward Rafe. “It’s okay that I come by on Friday, right?” Rafe confirms with a hopeful smile. 

“Of course, as long as you are sober, I won’t stop you from seeing her. The extra business is good too.” 

“Haha, I’ll make sure to deposit my paycheck before I go in then. Also, please let me know if you need anything. Money for food, rent, toys, clothes, tuition. Anything, okay. I want to pull my weight. She’s my daughter too.”

“I will, I promise. Thank you for coming over tonight. You made her day.”

They both look at each other for a second and then notice the time. “I should probably get going. It’s getting late,” Rafe concludes, taking a step closer to the door. Y/N tries to hide her slight disappointment, “Uh, yeah. Drive safe. See you on Friday.” Rafe nods his head and opens the door. “See you on Friday.” Y/N stays by the door as she watches Rafe walk down her driveway. She waves goodbye to him as he gets into his car and drives away. Once he is out of sight, she closes the door and reflects on the day. It was strange to have Rafe there, but she doesn’t regret the decision. She saw how much he cared for Stella and it solidified the idea in her mind that he is meant to be a father. This is a new kind of normal that she can get used to. 

——

Since Sarah and Rafe moved out of Tannyhill, Ward insisted on having family dinner every week. Everyone knows Sarah’s departure is the main reason why Ward wanted to do so, especially since Ward tried to have just Sarah come to dinner. However, thanks to Sarah, Ward gave in to inviting Rafe. Most dinners start with Ward getting small talk with Rafe about work out of the way before he moves on with asking Sarah about a full second-by-second breakdown of her week. And this Wednesday is not any different, but Rafe has something else other than work to talk to his dad about. 

“Actually, Dad, there is something I want to talk to you about,” Rafe brings to the table, looking Ward dead in his eyes. Ward stops chewing, not really expecting Rafe to have anything else to say. Ward tilts the end of his fork toward Rafe, “Okay, what is it?” “I have a daughter. Her name is Stella. She is three years old, almost four. And she looks exactly like me,” Rafe gets everything out in one go. He may have known about Stella for a month now, but he didn’t want to tell his family until he knew he could step up and be the person his daughter needed. This causes everyone at the table to freeze and look at Rafe in surprise. Ward’s eyes narrow; his brows become one. “What do you mean?” he gets out in a rough tone. 

“I mean that five years ago, I had sex with Y/N and she had a baby nine months after that. I didn’t know about Stella until last month. I didn’t want to tell you guys until I was a month sober and certain that I could be there for her.”

“You better tell me that this is a joke because I can’t believe that you could be that much of a screw-up. How do you even know she is your daughter?”

“I told you, she looks exactly like me.”

“How do you know that’s not because you want to believe she does? How do you know that bitch isn’t lying to you? You were so useless that you didn’t even get a paternity.” 

Rafe stands up at what Ward calls Y/N and points a finger at his father. “You have no right to call her that. I know she isn’t lying because I trust her. I won’t make her get a paternity test,” he yells. Ward lets out a low chuckle, “Okay, fine. Do whatever you want. But I’m going to need you to get a lawyer and write up a contract for child support if that’s what the bitch is after. There is no way you are actually going to raise that kid.” “You need to stop calling the mother of your granddaughter a bitch. And why can’t I raise my daughter? You are always telling me I need to take responsibility and I am. Why can’t you just be proud of me?” he argues, his anger getting to a whole other level. The other members of the dinner see that this fight is not about to end any time soon, so Sarah steps in. “Dad, stop. This isn’t going anywhere. And you should be proud of Rafe. He overcame his addiction just so that he could be a better father. That’s amazing and I’m proud of him for that. I, for one, am excited to meet my niece,” Sarah reasons. Wheezie butts in too, “I want to meet Stella too.” Rafe gives them a thankful smile but gets up angrily.  

“Thank you guys for your support. I’ll talk to Y/N to find out when you can meet Stells. Dad, I wish I could say that I am surprised but I’m not,” he begins. “No matter what I do, I will never compare to Sarah and I won’t force you to meet your granddaughter. I think I’m going to go. Goodbye.” Rafe storms out of the house and slams the door. He gets to his truck and is about to drive away, yet he knows he shouldn’t. If he goes now, he is scared it will lead him to Barry’s. Instead, he pulls out his phone and dials a number that recently entered his contacts. “Hey, Button. Is everything okay?” Her voice is like a light guiding him back to home base. He vehemently shakes his head, “No, I’m not. Do you have time to talk?” Y/N immediately stops what she is doing and gives him her full attention for the whole night. 

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @drewstarkeyswifehoe @kisstaya @magicalyoura @mp-littlebit @loverfu55ii @dark1paradise @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @alyisdead @emeloyy @js-a-writer

[writer-in-theory]

you're gonna go far, love — spencer reid.

“I’ve been ready for you to come home for so long that I didn’t think to ask you where you’d gone.” —Noah Kahan (Orange Juice)

Summary: After Spencer relapses, he takes the first flight out of Virginia with no plan other than to get a fresh start. Or, my take on where he was for Evolution. Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gn!Reader (not the focus, but it's there) Category: Hurt/Comfort WC: 2k Content Warnings: Discussions of relapse, Mentions of alcohol, Slight spoiler for the ending of Evolution S1 (despite the fact I still haven't finished it myself) Notes: This is for the New Beginnings challenge hosted by @imagining-in-the-margins and based on a prompt from @foxy-eva , so thank you so much to you lovely people. This fic comes 2 years after my last CM fic, and a few months since I've written anything at all, so thank you for the inspiration 💜

Spencer booked the first flight out of Virginia five days after it happened. 

The person at the counter may have said the destination, but it floated straight past his ears and was carried far away. Within hours, everything he’d spent the past two decades building was left thirty thousand feet below him. 

Emily would be hurt. Everyone would be, as each of them heard the news as they one-by-one came into the office tomorrow. But it would be Emily, who was the first to notice the cracks in his once carefully crafted facade all those years ago, who would feel the most betrayed by his sudden escape. 

You should’ve at least said goodbye.

It was what Spencer had been most upset by when Emily had faked her death. After everything they’d been through together, after all of the joy they brought into each others’ incredibly stressful lives, all Spencer had needed was the chance to say goodbye and know that she was out there, somewhere, happy. 

Hopefully, she’d understand why he had to leave now, though. 

Everyone in the BAU had figured out by now that the Spencer Reid who walked out of prison was not the same as the one who’d first stepped into it. Some piece of him—and even now, he wasn’t sure how large that piece was—had been laid bare and morphed beyond even his own recognition. The loss of that part of him ached in the way that losing a loved one did, that sharp stabbing sort of ache that would appear so suddenly that he didn’t know how to handle it. 

There was no way to explain it to the rest of the team, though, no matter how supportive they tried to be. The fact was that none of them had ever nor would ever go through what he exactly had, and for not the first time in his life, Spencer began to feel like a rip current was sweeping him away from the steadiness of shore. 

It wasn’t until he was far enough away from shore that he couldn’t see the relief of the sands that his mind recalled that he’d been prescribed painkillers several months prior. 

It wasn’t the same as what Tobias Hankel had given him so many years ago, nor was it the alternatives he’d managed to find in the months after, but it was devastatingly similar enough that he’d tried to convince the emergency room doctor not to order it in the first place. ‘Pick it up anyway, just in case. No one can recover from a gunshot wound without pain relief.’ 

He’d almost flushed the amber bottle’s contents the day he’d gotten them, but the bone-deep feeling that had eased with time but never truly gone away kept him from fully eliminating that option from his life. Why should one thing that had happened to him years ago deny him proper pain relief now, should he need it? So they’d sat untouched, locked away in his gun safe for months. 

Until five days ago.

After well over a decade in recovery, Spencer knew this was always a possibility. He’d seen friends go through the same thing and had been there to support them in whatever ways he could because no matter how many times it happened the initial feelings of shock, shame, and overbearing grief could be just as overwhelming as the first. 

A day after, when he’d woken up and realized just what had occurred, Spencer had walked himself to the nearest NA meeting. Like he was on auto-pilot, he moved through every piece of advice he had gathered through the years—the stories of success and the stories of forced learning serving as guides to him. It wasn’t the first time Spencer had relapsed (a word that still struck fear in him to even think about), nor would it likely be the last time he was forced to confront this part of his past. 

Still, this was the first time Spencer walked out of the building, packed a bag, and made a silent escape from the city he called home. There was something different about this time, though he had no idea where to even begin considering the specifics of why.

He ended up in Cincinnati, Ohio.

In all the years he’d been with the BAU, they’d never once been called there. It was like every other city Spencer had been in in many ways—the buildings towering above him as he walked, the river that bordered the city mirroring the home he’d just left, even down to the FBI headquarters that was quiet now in the middle of the night. Still, he couldn’t help but feel as though it were completely separate from everything he’d known before, because the melancholy Spencer had been sitting in for the last five days had suddenly turned comforting amongst the atmosphere of the city.

He ended up in a bar, of all places. It was the kind that only served nonalcoholic drinks, the kind of place where people like him could sit without feeling outside of the norm. Music was playing softly in the background, and though it was busy there was only a gentle rumble of conversation in the room.

“You’re staring at that glass like it’ll kill you. It’s safe, Scout’s honor.” The teasing voice surprised Spencer out of the careful contemplation he’d fallen into. It came from the bartender, who was busying themselves with wiping down a few glasses, stood just on the other side of the bar in front of him.

“You know, that only works if you were actually a scout,” Spencer returned, though raised the glass to his lips after. It was sweet—a little too sweet by his standards, though it was a comfort now after the week he’d had.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” the bartender said back. They looked comfortable here, like this sober bar were an extension of their own home. At one time, the BAU office had been the same for him. “You look like you could use a friendly face, and that just happens to be my favorite part of the job.”

“Part of the job…?”

“Oh you know, bartenders are the therapists for the lonely, or something like that.” They were comfortable, and more open to an effective stranger than Spencer ever thought possible. It was refreshing in a way, to be able to talk with them without having to worry about what case information he could get out of them. It wasn’t often, anymore, that he could relax and talk to someone just to talk to them. “What brings you to the Queen City?”

“I moved here,” Spencer answered automatically, looking down sheepishly at his glass before adding, “today, actually.”

“Oh, congrats then. New job?”

“More like a new start.”

It was quiet for only a moment before the bartender asked in a softer voice, “How long had it been?”

Spencer almost asked them what they meant, until he met their gaze. They had their full attention on him now, glasses left abandoned on the inner part of the bar. They’d been kind from the start, but the look they gave him now was the sort of pure understanding that made Spencer realize all at once what they were referring to.

“How did you know?”

The bartender sighed, though there was no sadness to it at all. They pulled something from their pocket, sliding it gently across the bar so Spencer could see. A metallic chip was place between them, silver on the outside and filled in with a green-blue color and a “V” engraved in the middle of it. It was different from the ones he’d used, but he recognized the meaning of it all the same. 

“I opened this place because the day I relapsed, five years ago now, I’d had nowhere to go after. There wasn’t anywhere people like us could go and relax without having to answer the tough questions, like why I drank orange juice instead of ‘what all the other adults were drinking’. It seemed silly at the time, but I think I was just looking for somewhere I could feel normal.”

“My family were the ones who helped me get sober, and sometimes they still forget and will ask me why I’m not drinking.” Spencer returned the sentiment with a light laugh. He loved everyone in the BAU, and even though it had only been a few days he already missed them terribly, but it was nice to have someone there who understood what he was feeling, what he was going through now.

“Exactly!” The bartender said, following Spencer’s lead and letting out a laugh of their own. “Though I can’t say I ever moved to a new city because of it.”

“It was the most impulsive thing I’ve ever done,” Spencer admitted. “I…really needed a fresh start. I needed somewhere noone knew who I was, somewhere I could get a completely different job and…I don’t know, figure out who I am.”

The bartender nodded. “Sounds about right. This family you left behind, are you gonna go back to them?”

“Eventually. We’ve worked together for so many years. I spent more time with them than I’ve actually ever spent alone, and I think I just need…”

“Something new,” the bartender finished, “I’m starting to catch on. What d’you think you’ll do?”

“I’ve always loved teaching. Maybe that?”

“You know, I have some friends who work at UC. Depending on what you wanted to teach, I could see if they could get you an interview.”

“Just like that?” Spencer asked, wondering only briefly if there was going to be a catch somewhere down the line.

The bartender shrugged. “Why not? I never up and moved cities, but I’m no stranger to new beginnings.”

“I wouldn’t recommend moving cities without thinking it through,” Spencer laughed then. “I have no plan for what comes next.”

“Do you have somewhere to stay, at least?”

Spencer only winced, which he was sure was answer enough for them. He was expecting some kind of sympathetic response, but he never expected the bartender to shrug again and say, “Well, how about I be a little impulsive too. I’ve been looking for a new roommate, why don’t you stay tonight and see how it goes?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, sure. You seem decent enough not to be some secret axe-murderer or something.”

Oh, the irony. 

Spencer didn’t really know this person except for the limited conversation they’d had so far. It would’ve been safer, and probably smarter, for him to just find a hotel room for the night and come up with a plan later. But something was telling him that he should agree, that there was something more to this person that he wanted to get to know. 

So not for the first time that day, Spencer trusted his gut and nodded. “Okay, let’s try it.”

It wasn’t a fix for everything. The changes would come slowly, so slowly that sometimes Spencer himself wouldn’t even notice them happening. It would take time to get to a place where Spencer felt okay again, and a large help in that ended up being his new roommate who seemed to just get him in more ways than one. As time went by, Cincinnati truly began to feel like home. 

And two years after he’d left, when Spencer turned on the news and saw the BAU standing before a large crowd as they announced they’d finally caught the serial killer behind the shipping container murders, he finally felt the string tugging him back in the direction of Quantico.

His home was there in Cincinnati, with the person who’d become a friend and even more in the last two years and the professor job that he came to love, but Spencer knew—beyond a shadow of a doubt—that it was time to see his family again, too. 

[stormhearty]

Pairings: Former Rhysand x Reader, Feysand, Tarquin x Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Triggers: mentions of depression, relapse, attempts at suicide

Summary: It has been two decades since you left Night Court, leaving the life you had always known. It had been five years since you were in Dawn Court, slowly healing with the help of its High Lord. Now, you had resided in Summer Court, Tarquin by your side through your healing process. But when a mating bond snaps between the two of you when your health turns for the worse, how would you process something that you never thought would happen in your immortal life? And when you decide to confront your former family, would you forgive them for their past discretions? The story of the aftermath of your broken heart of glass.

Note: From this request! Thank you so much for wanting a second part to “Breaking Like Glass”!! I love that everyone enjoyed that fic’s immense angst, so I will gladly give you guys the fluff, romance, and healing the reader needs. And I do hope this isn’t cheesy. I struggled a bit on writing this, whether to debate to make it angsty, but I feel like, it has enough of the balance. Please do enjoy!

Breaking Like Glass | Masterlist

“You know, my stardust, you don't have to do this… We can have our mating ceremony with our family. We don't have to invite Night Court…”

You let out a thoughtful hum as you lounged in one of the lounging chairs in Tarquin’s office, book in hand. You placed a finger on your page before looking over your shoulder at the High Lord of Summer, who looked at you with concern etched on his beautiful features.

After centuries of being with Rhysand, you had always thought that you would be content in not finding your mate. You had thought, and wished, that you would have eternity with the High Lord of Night Court. However, with the fiasco two decades ago, all you wanted to do was heal — fix your broken heart and mind from your torture from Under the Mountain, to fix your broken soul from being ripped apart by your family. You did not want to fall in love — you didn’t want to give your taped-up heart to someone and be worried about having it torn apart again.

You had safe-guarded your heart behind high, metal walls with a fog of darkness to protect it — to protect you from breaking all over again, and losing yourself once more.

But what you had never dreamed of was a mating bond to snap.

And you never thought it would be with another High Lord.

The very moment you had stepped into Summer soil, Tarquin had been nothing but kind and gentle, helping you through your decade of healing. He allowed you to take your time — he allowed you to wallow, he allowed you to be silent, he allowed you to grieve, something that you never were able to do while you were in Valeris. He allowed you to cry in anguish, he allowed you to cry in pain — he allowed the forty-nine years of suffering to seep out of your aching body. And he was silently there, beside you, watching over you… to ensure you were safe and well cared for while you did.

And that was all you could have wished for while you were healing. You didn’t need words, you didn’t need condolences… Tarquin allowed you to heal in the way that your heart and mind needed.

All the while Tarquin healed your broken soul that came upon the betrayal from Night Court, you would be sent back to Dawn Court to mend your mind and body from the tortures of the Attor. The two High Lords worked in tandem with one another… all for you. Both Tarquin and Thesan realized your worth, both realized your importance and believed it was worth their power and time to heal you.

It had been five years since you came from Dawn Court when the mating bond snapped between you and Tarquin.

It was when your nightmares had resurrected themselves from the grave, haunting you thoroughly to the point you had relapsed back from your progress.

You had screamed and clawed against everything that had neared you, your eyes frantic at the absolute fear and dread of returning to that moment in your life — the pain of the Attor and betrayal of your husband, that still lurked in the darkness of your fear. You had hurt yourself, multiple times during that relapse — skin broken with knives, daggers, broken glass — anything that your hands got to… hoping for the pain to seep out of your skin.

But Tarquin was there through all of that — grabbing and hiding everything that you could try to hurt yourself with. He fought tooth and nail to get to you, whispering sweet nothings — that you were worth it, you were worth the pain and anguish, that you were worth everything. And that you would get through the pain — and that he’d be right beside you through it.

You couldn’t feel it, the glow of the mating bond between the two of you — for you were too shrouded in your fear to notice.

All the while, Tarquin felt every emotion you had felt — the despair, the anguish, the pain that wracked your body. He fought back all the tears as he held you against him, pouring as much care and love through the newly found bond.

The relapse had taken an immense hit on your health — you were sick for weeks on end, going in and out of consciousness barely able to make out who had been taking care of you.

When you had been well enough, you had learned that Tarquin, himself, had been the one to care for you during your illness. And you, though you shouldn’t have been, was surprised at that fact. The High Lord of Summer Court took time away from his busy schedule to tend to you. He had owed you nothing… and yet he had taken time to care for you.

“Why did you do that…?” you had asked, storming into his office, pausing mid-step when you had seen Thesan and the Captain in the room. It seemed that you had interrupted an important meeting between the two High Lords — possibly about your condition.

Tarquin looked at you for a moment, a gentle sigh escaping his lips as he looked at Thesan and gave him an apologetic nod of his head. Thesan glanced between the two of you before standing up from his seat on the plush couch and heading your way. The High Lord of Dawn smiled at you, leaning down to press a kiss onto the crown of your head, “Hello, my child… be nice to him…”

The request was confusing to you as you allowed the High Lord and Captain to step out of the room, the click of the door resonating behind you — leaving you and Tarquin alone in that grand room. The atmosphere grew awkward and you couldn’t help but bite your lower lip, you glanced everywhere besides the High Lord, and you heard him let out a chuckle.

You frowned, glaring at him slightly before watching him stand up and walk towards you, reaching out a hand for you to hold, “We have much to talk about, (Y/N)…” he murmured.

You stared at his hand, sighing softly before reaching over to place you had on top of his. His had always radiated warmth that you seemed to want to grasp onto often — it was warm and inviting, much like the summer sun he had ruled over. You followed him further into his office, walking past his desk and onto the large balcony overviewing his Court. There was a large settee that Tarquin led you to, sitting you down before he sat next to you, leaving a gap between both of you.

“Now… What was it you were saying, (Y/N)? About why I did that?” he questioned, turquoise hues staring at the massive land of his Court, allowing the summer breeze to greet the two of you.

Relaxing against the settee, you remained quiet for a few moments, eyes fluttering close at the breeze that tickled your skin. When you opened your eyes once more and turned your attention to the High Lord, you were slightly startled when you noticed he was staring at you — something in his eyes sparkling that you were unsure of… or slightly denied.

“…Why did you take care of me when I was ill?” you asked him, not bothering to beat around the bush, “You didn’t owe me anything, this… arrangement between us is only until I get better and can move on from my nightmares—”

“When did I say that this… arrangement is only until you get better?” he interrupted you with a raised brow, “I did not say anything like that. I am allowing you to stay until you want to leave… I’m giving you the choice to stay and to heal the way you need, unlike your time in Night Court. And, I took care of you because I wanted to, (Y/N). I couldn’t let you hurt yourself like you did, to be so haunted by your nightmares every waking second… I couldn’t let you suffer the way Rhysand let you for all those months…”

You flinched at the name of your former husband. It still ached — no matter how long it had been, it still ached hearing his name. Usually, Tarquin and Thesan avoided saying his name around you, both afraid of a possible relapse. You let out a shaky breath, as your eyes stared at something beyond him, a distant stare — feeling yourself move out of your body, a sensation that had started to become normal for you ever since you were in Dawn Court.

Feeling Tarquin’s warmth again, you blinked twice before focusing on him again a small smile tugged on your lips, and shook your head, “…I’m fine…” you whispered, head tilting down to look at your intertwined hands. You took deep breaths, something that Thesan had taught you after your moments of distance.

Tug, tug… you felt something in your chest. Your head tilted in confusion until you felt it again — tug, tug… You lifted your head and looked at the High Lord once more. You saw a twinkle in those turquoise hues, a hopeful look hidden within those depths.

“…What…” you muttered in disbelief, and you felt another tug in your chest.

“You felt it, did you not, (Y/N)?” Tarquin questioned, leaning forward slightly, warm hands gently gripping yours — as if preventing you from running away.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded your head, too scared for any words to escape you.

How could a mating bond happen? After everything that happened to you, your mind and body were broken, being held together by pieces of tape held together by Tarquin and Thesan — you could barely hold yourself together. Your healing process for the past fifteen years was slow, and there were many times when you believed you would never be okay again. How can someone like you be mated to another High Lord? How can someone as broken as you be another leader of a Court?

Thoughts of insecurities passed through your mind, unknowingly sending them down the newly formed bond. You were startled out of your thought by Tarquin’s hand gently caressing your cheek, forcing you to look at him.

“You do not have to accept the mating bond, as of yet, (Y/N)… I will wait, you can heal. Just know that I accept you, even if you are broken and torn. You still have years of healing to do, but I will be by your side — always.”

Tears ran down your cheeks as he shifted closer, pressing his hands on your cheeks to wipe them away. All you can do is nod. Allowing the love and warmth of the bond to slowly heal you.

It had been another five years since then. A little over two decades after you left Night Court to accept the bond. For five years, Tarquin had courted you, cared for you… loved you the way you needed. He did not force anything onto you and allowed you to fall in love with him in such a natural way that it felt second nature to you.

“…(Y/N)…” your mate called out to you, snapping out of your trance.

You blinked and refocused on the present, eyes focusing on Tarquin who had moved from his spot at his desk to you, hands rubbing your shoulders. Tilting your head back, you gave him a smile, reaching up with your free hand to reach up to run your fingers against his cheek as he looked down at you.

“No… I would like to invite them. I think… I need closure from my time there. And…” there was hesitance in your voice at the next words, “I do miss them. I lived with them for centuries, and all of a sudden I cut them off my life for a good reason… there are times when I missed them.”

Tarquin hummed understandingly as he squeezed your shoulders, “Understandable. We will invite them… But I worry—-”

“—- I won’t relapse. I promise…” you moved from your lounging position to sitting up, shifting so you were on your knees, at eye level with him. You felt him wrap his arm around your waist so you were steady as your hands placed themselves on his biceps, playing around with the fabric of his outfit, “I’m better — well, as best I can be — but I know you’ll be there… I will be fine.”

There was reluctance in his features, those turquoise hues trying to find any lie in your words before he gave you a nod.

“I concede…” he murmured and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the hesitancy in his words. Pressing a gentle kiss on the High Lord’s cheek, murmuring a thank you before moving back to your position on the lounge chair, picking up your book once more.

You looked back up to just miss the shake of his head, before he wrapped a hand around your neck, tilting your head up so he could lean down to press a kiss on your lips, “After our mating ceremony, I wish for you to initiate our kisses, my stardust…”

Feeling the warmth of your cheeks you stared up at him, “If that is the wish of my High Lord, then it shall happen…”

He let out a low chuckle before pressing another kiss on your lips, your book forgotten on your lap.

The ceremony venue was extravagant, to say the least — Tarquin, as well as Thesan from what you had gathered, pulled all the stops. The throne room of Summer Court was flourishing with flowers and the summer sun radiating down through all the large windows.

You were a nervous mess sitting in your room. It was still several hours before the ceremony, that you weren’t too nervous for; it was the fact that you were going to meet your old family once more.

The Captain of Dawn, your dear friend, had informed you that the Inner Circle just arrived at the outskirts of Summer Court. And that set off your nerves completely.

You had requested, when you had sent the letter to Night Court, to meet with them before your ceremony — to officially close the wounds between all of you.

And so when a knock startled you out of your worries, you turned around in your chair from your vanity where you were getting ready. Watching those doors open to reveal your old family.

There stood Rhysand, in his Night Court attire along with Feyre, who was at his side. There was a pang in your chest, the pain of their betrayal somehow festering its way back into your heart. But it was slowly soothed out by the warmth of the mating bond that Tarquin seemed to have sent your way. The doors closed behind the Inner Circle, and you noticed the Captain of Dawn stationed at the door.

Thesan’s lover is quite a busybody isn’t he…? You had sent down the bond to your mate. And all you felt was Tarquin’s chuckle as you focused back on the now.

You slowly stood up, a small smile on your features before you watched from the corner of your eye Mor heading to a sprint and giving you the biggest hug.

“… I’m so sorry, (Y/N)…” she apologized, the words repeating on her lips as she squeezed you, burying her head into your neck.

Tears pricked the edge of your eyes as your arms wrapped around her and you buried your head to the crook of her neck, letting the blond curls tickle your face.

“… Mor…” you whined her name.

A sob wracked through the blonde’s body, “I’m just glad you’re okay. That you’re better…” she whispered before pulling back and staring at you, “I’m glad you found your mate. I’m glad that he’s making you happy — that you deserve happiness — after all the shit you went through and everything we had put you under…”

You smiled at her as you felt her cup your cheeks, nodding your head, “… — Thank you, Mor. I’m glad to see you again, truly. I missed you so much…”

A smile tugged on Mor’s features, “We will see each other more… if you let us.”

You nodded your head as she stepped away, allowing the rest of the Inner Court to greet you — hugging you and whispering their utmost apologies and congratulations.

Cassian had lifted you into his arms, something he used to do often when you were his Lady still, giving you a spin, “You will always be my Lady, (Y/N)…” he whispered into your ears, pressing a kiss against your cheek before literally handing you off to Azriel.

A giggle escaped your lips as you hugged the Spymaster as he pressed a kiss on your opposite cheek, “We will forever live with the regret of losing you…” Azriel hummed out, “We had and always will love you… But I wish for nothing but happiness for you…”

Your heart flourished at the words of your former family — the words that you had wished to hear two decades ago — slowly piecing your heart and soul back together. You had known, while you were healing, that they had always cared for you and that never meant to put so much pressure on you, unknowing of your nightmares and struggles after being Under the Mountain.

When you were settled back onto your feet, you turned to face Rhysand. The tension between the two of you was still high and you fought back all the urge to just run away from this confrontation between the two of you. You gave him a small smile before focusing your attention on Feyre who stepped up, reaching out to hold your hands.

“I am truly sorry…” she whispered, leaning forward to press her forehead against yours.

You understood why Rhysand fell in love with Feyre. You had heard of the great deeds she had done for Night Court, for Prythian… she was something you could never have been next to Rhysand. The true High Lady of Night Court.

And somehow, you were okay with it.

Shaking your head, you looked at the High Lady, “…You were just following the feeling of the mating bond. Like I said that night, I cannot fault you for choosing your mate. I cannot fault you for following the tug… I — I would like to extend my congratulations —-”

Feyre shook her head, brows knitting at your words, “Do not, please. I will not accept that not when I have unknowingly broken you along with the rest of your family. ”

You looked at her, nodding your head as you felt her step back and the familiar scent and presence of your former husband taking her place. You lifted your eyes to look into violet ones — ones that sparkled with regret, ones that you were in love with for so long.

Even if it was two decades that passed, you felt like you were still in sync with him, knowing what he wanted. Turning onto your heels, you made your way to one of the furthest balconies, Rhysand following your steps. The large window doors closed behind you, leaving both of you in a pocket of privacy away from prying ears. You could see, from the corner of your eye, the Captain making his way closer to the doors and all you could do was hold a hand up — signaling that you were fine and safe.

Turning back around, you focused on Rhysand who’s eyes were solely on you. Stepping past him, you made your way to the railing, pressing your hands on the warm marble, as you basked in the summer sun.

“(Y/N)…” Rhysand whispered one that was so quiet that the wind barely was able to carry it to your sensitive ears.

“I… I cannot forgive you, Rhysand…” you declared, eyes still closed as you let the warmth of your new home wash over you, to comfort you as you confront your past, “I cannot and do not fault you for choosing her. I can see why you had fallen for her — she’s beautiful, both inside and out. But I cannot forgive you for it. You had broken me so much, that there were many times during my healing that I wondered why I wasn’t enough for you to choose me. Wondering what I have done to make you choose someone else other than your wife who stood next to you for centuries.”

You could hear the shaky breath that Rhysand exhaled as you felt him stand next to you on the balcony.

You couldn’t look at him, every fiber in your body shaking to break again if you looked at him. You needed to be strong — for yourself and for the people around you who worried immensely for your health.

“I know… I know you would never forgive me, (Y/N). I have accepted that truth… I just wish things ended differently, you know? I wanted to let you know, that there was not a moment in our centuries together as husband and wife that I wished you were my mate… that there was not a moment that I did not love you…”

A broken laugh escaped your lips as you opened your eyes and looked up at him once more, seeing those unshed tears in violet hues.

“… And there was not a time where I wished you were my mate… But it seems that Mother had a different path for both of us. One that led us away from each other.”

You reached up, with shaky hands, and attempted to touch him; however, your body paused, and with furrowed brows, you dropped your hand back onto your side. You could see Rhysand’s body slouched slightly as if missing your touch. A forced smile tugged onto your lips as you stepped back, creating a significant distance between the two of you, “… I hope you enjoy the ceremony, Rhysand…”

He knew when he was dismissed and he smiled at you before stepping out of the balcony. You watched with longing and pain as he and the Inner Court stepped out of your room.

“… Probably it wasn’t such a good idea to have the two of you alone together…” The Captain commented, stepping onto the balcony, worry in his tone.

“I’m fine… just give me a moment…” you whispered, pressing a hand against your chest, to calm down your heart. You slouched against the railing for a few minutes, feeling the bond in your chest to help your racing heart.

“…Do you need me—-”

“No… I don’t need Tarquin or Thesan right now. They’re in their own state of panic already…”

The Captain let out a chuckle, “That is true… They have set their mind to ensure that this ceremony would be perfect…”

After calming your heart, you straightened up and gave the Captain a light smirk, “…Busybodies the lot of them…” You stepped back into your room, allowing yourself to fix yourself up before the ceremony, the Captain following your trail.

You stood on the dias of the throne room, Tarquin by your side as the priestess started the ceremony. Your gown was a lovely mixture of blue, much like the oceans that crashed below the castle. The priestess’ words had gone deaf in your ears as all you could do was stare up at the High Lord of Summer, love and affection in your features as well as through the bond.

When the priestess had asked for the two of you to exchange vows, Tarquin looked at you with the same look as you did to him, a soft smile on his features.

“Never in my life, I would have thought to find my mate. I had thought that I would rule my Court without a High Lady by my side. But that fateful day I had whisked you away from Thesan and Dawn Court, all I had wished was for you to be mine.

“My stardust…” the nickname always made your heart skip in your chest, “I had fallen in love with you… despite your broken soul and heart. I was honored that you had trusted me enough to help mend your soul from the nightmares that haunted you, and that still haunt you till this day. But I couldn’t let you know of my affections, not when you had set yourself into healing. So I waited, waited for years and when that mating bond snapped, I knew I couldn’t hold out for much longer. I needed you in my arms, I needed to have your eyes set on me — rather than looking into your past. And when you had your relapse… I had to let you know. I had to let you know that you have someone, your mate, to be with you every step of your healing process.”

You felt tears trickle down your cheeks as Tarquin wiped them away, “You deserve this bond after everything that you have been through… the Mother has gifted you this bond. And I am honored to be at the end of that string.”

A sob escaped your lips and you couldn’t even find the words for your own vows. All you could mutter to him as he pressed his forehead against yours, “Thank you… I love you, I thank you, and I am also honored and blessed by the Cauldron to have you as my mate. Thank you for mending my heart. I am glad to give it to you, and not worry about it breaking…”

You watched through a tearful gaze, Tarquin giving you a radiant smile before leaning down to press a kiss on your lips, “And I would never break it… not your heart that is precious like gemstones…”

You laughed as applause reached your ears, leaning up once more to kiss your mate.

Your heart was safe — mended together once more — and you knew it would never break again.

Tagging list: @cleverzonkwombatsludge @abysshaven @prythianpages @leahoneil @rachelnicolee

[madi-writes-things]

Nobody Pt. 7

(C.Sturniolo X Reader)

Summary:

Chris and Y/N never seemed to get along, but sometimes help comes from the most unexpected places

Word Count: 1,255

TW: Cursing, SH (not in detail, but it is talked about), wound cleaning, arguments, Hurt Comfort, Panic Attack, Crying, Nightmare, talk of past trauma (dead brother), Not Edited

A/N: TLDR for the last chapter - Chris notices Y/N drifting slowly, and tries his best to keep her within a safe distance… but one night him and his brothers decide to film a car video. While in the house alone Y/N tries to distract herself from the bad thoughts… it doesn’t work, and she doesn’t want to interrupt the triplets, causing her to relapse and try to commit. She calls Chris, and the guys rush home to find her a bloody mess in the bathroom. (Nick didn’t see it because Chris made him leave, but Matt was really effected by what he saw) after cleaning her wounds, Chris leaves her with nick while he cleans up the mess in the bathroom (Matt left, barely even looking at her), while with nick she tells him everything. The chapter ends with Chris saying “who said I was pretending?”. This chapter picks up right where the last one ended.

if I missed something, please let me know

-Madi <3

“”“”“”“”“”

“I told Nick…” he just stares into my eyes. “You don’t have to pretend to love me anymore, there’s no point in lying anymore.”

“who said I was pretending?”

I stare into his icy eyes in the dim lighting, trying to figure out if this was some cruel joke. “Don’t say things you don’t mean Chris.” It’s lined with a venom developed from years of rejection.

“it’s not a lie.” He looks genuine, I want him to mean it. “I think I’m in love with you… we can talk about it in the morning, you need to sleep”

I try to protest, but he just nuzzles his head into the space between my collar and jaw. The adrenaline rush from the events of the night finally dies down, and I realize just how tired I am. Within minutes my heavy eyes drift shut, all thoughts of an explanation long gone.

“”“”“”“”“”

The sun through the window wakes me up, I reach over for Chris… the bed is cold where he usually lays. I lay in peace for a moment before my brain starts working.

Did I just imagine the conversation with Chris? Was it a lie he told so I didn’t try to kill myself again? Was it just the adrenaline rush that made him say it? What if I dreamt it all? What if-

Before I could keeps coming up with worse case scenarios, the bedroom door opened. Chris walked in carrying two plates of pancakes.

He sits down criss cross in front of me on the bed, handing me a plate and fork. “How are you feeling?” He asks right as I shove a piece of pancake into my mouth.

“much better now… you didn’t need to make me breakfast in bed.” I pause for a second, staring at my food while trying not to cry. “You also didn’t need to say that you love me…”

I hear him set his plate and fork down. “Yes I did… not for you, but for me.” With that I looked up at him. “I have been so scared to tell you how I felt, out of the possibility that it scares you away… but I can’t lose you Y/N, I can’t not tell you how I feel.”

He meant it.

I just stare at him, dumbfounded at how he could really mean it. I’ve never been the kind of girl that all the guys chase, especially guys that look like Chris. I’ve always struggled with how I see myself, and I never thought that I’d believe a man who says he loves me…

But here we are.

“When we’re done eating I need to change your bandages, and then we can watch a movie or something… if you want to, if you want to do something else that’s totally fine…”

He’s rambling, I love it.

I love him.

“”“”“”“”“”

it’s been a month since the incident, and I’ve never been happier… and I’ve never felt worse.

It's a normal Tuesday night this time… I can feel Chris tossing and turning. I open my eyes to see his face scrunched up in anguish, and I know that it’s my fault. This happens at least once a week.

It’s always the same:

-It starts with tossing and turning

-then he starts pleading (“no, no, please, it’s okay… baby… please, you have to be okay… please don’t leave me…”)

-I usually end up straddling him before gently shaking him awake

-he wakes up and hold me like he never thought he’d see me again, and he never tells me what his nightmares are about.

He doesn’t have to.

I remember the look in his eyes when he opened the door. The way he tried to keep it together, never letting his tears fall. I could hear him breaking down while he cleaned the bathroom floor.

I see that look in his eyes again when he opens them. “It’s okay baby… it’s just a nightmare… everything is okay now.” He burst into tears, pulling me into him. We stay like this until we end up falling back asleep. I wait until I had his breathing even out, and he starts snoring softly before letting myself fall back asleep.

I know he won’t talk about it in the morning, but I’ll still ask him.

“”“”“”“”“”

The vibe in the house has been tense since that night. I walk into the kitchen, and notice Matt staring at something on his phone.

“good morning.” I say, smiling in his direction.

he looks at me with a look of disgust, before leaving the room.

I’m tired of this… I’m going to follow him to his room to make him talk to me. He hasn’t said a word to me since he found out I was alive.

“Get out of my room.” He snaps in my direction. “I don’t want you here”

“Do you wish I died?” I didn’t mean to say it so bluntly, but it’s been the only thought in my head for the last month.

“Excuse me?” I can tell it offended him. That wasn’t my intention.

“I said ‘do you’… ‘wish that I had died’, it’s a yes or no question.” I didn’t mean to starts out this hostile, but it’s been building for longer than I wanted it to.

“how could you say something like that Y/N?” He has tears in his eyes now. Shit. “I can’t stand to look at you, but it’s not because I wish that you had died!” I clearly misread the situation before me. “I can’t look at you because every time I do, all I see is you on the floor, covered in your own blood. I can’t look at you because I see you, half dead, every time I close my eyes! I don’t sleep anymore Y/N!”

“Im so sorry…” I don’t know what else I can say. It’s true. I hate the way that my mistake has affected the people around me.

“No Y/N, it’s too late to apologize… did you even think about how traumatic finding you like that would be for us?”

“I know how you feel, I can help you with-” I’m cut off before I can finish my sentence.

“You don’t know shit about what this is like! I had to watch my brother patch up the slit wrists of my best friend… the love of his life, and all I could do was stand there!” His voice is shaking, but I can’t stop now.

“Don’t talk about me like you know anything about my life before I moved to Boston! I survived… I understand that you are struggling, but you don’t get to act like I died. I know exactly what you feel like, because I’ve been right where you are… the only difference is that my brother didn’t survive.”

I never told him about my brother, Chris and Nick are the only people in my life who know.

“You can’t possibly imagine the pain of finding your twin brother lying dead on the floor of his bedroom!” The words are coming quicker than I can process. “You never had parents that told you that they wish it had been you, you always got a birthday, and you never had to move to a different state because everyone knew that you tried to kill yourself… so don’t tell me that I don’t know what you’re going through!” I’m practically screaming by the end.

Then I’m crying.

And Matt is holding me while we both cry.

“”“”“”“”“”

@unbruisable @bernardsbendystraws @sturniolo-fann @jnkvivi

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Hi! Congratulations on your milestone 😊

I would really like to see something with Spencer x Reader and Blinding Lights by The Weeknd! ❤️

Hello my love! I’ve wanted to write a fic based on this song for so long! Set in place of 3.16 Elephant’s Memory.

Send me a song lyric from my list to celebrate my follower milestone 🎵

Blinding Lights

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Summary - Spencer is ten months sober and struggling to ward off his cravings. When a case takes the team to his hometown, he knows there’s only one face that can keep him from falling off the wagon.

CW - heavy angst, hopeful ending, past drug use, thoughts of relapse, Spencer is just really sad, brief mention of a bad past relationship, tears.

WC - 3.8k

The golden medallion watched him thoughtfully from the dresser, the way any inanimate object could. He could feel the judgement rolling of it in waves, hearing its sickly sweet commentary as he stared unblinking at the opposite wall.

You’re not strong enough, it goaded him. You can’t do this alone. Relapse is inevitable. 

Of course he knew a piece of metal couldn’t think, couldn’t chastise him, didn’t have its own voice to vocalise these vicious words. It wasn’t sentient. It was a coin, a simple gold chip. And anyway, the taunting voice following him around like a rain cloud sounded too much like his own for it to be anything other than his own intrusive thoughts. 

His cell phone was next to him, tucked against his stomach as he lay in the foetal position atop the scratchy hotel bed sheet. 

Since having to cut his meeting at Beltway short and joining the team for the case less than twelve hours ago, he’d tried calling the same number fifty two times. 

Fifty two times he’d called and fifty two times he’d gotten the same monotonous voice in response. 

The number you dialled has been disconnected. 

Yet it didn’t stop him from calling the same number over and over until his thumb was numb and the beeping continued to sound in his ears long after he’d hung up. 

It was said that insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Did he really think that after fifty two phone calls the line would become magically reconnected just because he was so persistent? 

He wasn’t surprised exactly, but he was disappointed. It had been more years than he could count since he’d last tried to call that number. 

No, that wasn’t true, Spencer knew exactly how many years it had been, he knew how many minutes it had been since he last heard your voice. 

Five years, two months, sixteen days. 

He’d been standing in your doorway bidding you his final goodbye before he flew to Virginia to start work at the BAU. You’d said you’d stay in touch and you had. For a time at least. And then life simply got in the way. 

But today of all days when he was, as the literature put it, craving, for the first time in ten months of sobriety he needed to hear your voice. He needed to hear your dulcet tones on the other end of his phone telling him it would be alright. 

And to make even more signs point towards you, the case had taken them to his hometown of Las Vegas. 

He didn’t know for a fact that you still lived here but there was something in his gut that told him you were close by. He could feel your aura, sense you were within his grasp but just out of reach. 

Without so much as blinking, he blindly reached for the dresser next to the bed and felt around until his fingers brushed over that taunting gold medallion. 

He tucked it into his palm, squeezing so tightly it would surely leave indentations in his hand. It was meant to be a token to aid him, to keep him focused for the next two months when he got his own. 

But it was simply serving as a reminder of his addiction and how much he would give to get high right now. 

The dilaudid didn’t just allow for his escape from reality but it also offered him a reprieve from his perpetual loneliness. Spencer had been on his own for so long, fighting battles solo against demons who always seemed to win as of late. 

Sin City had never felt as cold and lonely as it did right now. 

Still clutching the chip in one hand he used his other to pick up his phone. He pulled up his call history whilst moving as little as humanly possible. 

But this time he didn’t call your disconnected line. 

He put the device on speaker and held it in his hand, finally closing his sore and tired eyes as he listened to it ring. 

He counted four dial tones until his call was answered. 

“Boy wonder?” Garcia’s tone didn’t hide her confusion. “It’s late, I thought you’d all called it a night?” 

“It’s not about the case.” He barely recognised the sound coming out of his lips and judging by the long pause down the line, Penelope didn’t either. 

“Ok. What’s up?” She sounded concerned, it was nothing new. 

Since the team discovered his addiction it was the same tone they’d all used on him. It was growing tiresome. 

“Can you find someone for me? Like if I gave you a name could you find out where they live?” 

Another stretch of silence met his ears but he knew Garcia was still there. He exhaled through his nose and forced his exhausted limbs to straighten out, hearing the clicking of joints that shouldn’t be as worn down at his age. 

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, holding in a groan deep in his lungs as he got himself into a sitting position. 

The medallion was still pressuring aggressively into his palm. 

“You know I can, Reid.” Garcia finally spoke. “But you’ve got to tell me what this is about. If I’m going to help you, you have to be honest with me.” 

The truth was that Spencer felt like he was drowning. During daylight hours he was just about capable of keeping his head above water but in the night was when he started slipping beneath the surface. 

The whole team was worried about him, hadn’t stopped worrying about him relapsing, worrying about his monsters out running him. 

If Garcia wouldn’t give him the information he needed, it was likely ten months was where his sobriety ended. 

“I need to see an old…friend.” Now was not the time to be going into detail. “It’s important.” 

It wasn’t as though he deliberately kept you a secret from his team, he just never felt like talking about it. If he talked about you then all the pain would come flooding back to him, the waves of heartbreak likely to wash him away to sea for good. 

But still, in the midst of undoubtedly the worst time of his life, you were the only person that had a hope of making it better. You’d been there holding his hand when he’d made the decision to have his mother committed, you’d been his rock in that horrible time of his life. 

He knew when he was like this, you were the only one he trusted enough. You were the only person who had ever seen him, all of him, both metaphorically and physically. 

“Reid,” Garcia sighed as she spoke his name and he knew exactly what words would leave her mouth next before she vocalised them. “Are you ok?” 

Are you ok?

Such a flippant and vague question, but one in which he’d been asked more times than he cared to count over the past year. 

And it wasn’t just the question, it was the tone that went along with it. The pity veiled in a cloak of concern, the kind of concern you only had for a person on the brink. 

“No.” He confessed, loosening his grip on the chip maybe in the same way he was steadily loosening his grip on reality. “But that’s why I need you to do this for me.”

The desperation, the agony of his fractured mental state must have come through in his voice because it was only a second or two before Garcia replied.

“Ok.” She agreed and he heard the distinctive clicking of keys down the phone line. “Give me a name.”

***

It failed to register with Spencer that it was gone midnight when he emerged like a shadow from his hotel room, creeping down the corridors as if he were nothing more than an apparition. Limbs moved of their own accord with the address Garcia had given him burnt into his memory. 

He found himself behind the wheel of one of the hired SUV’s, foot hugging the gas pedal as he sped in the direction of your home. The gold medallion sat on the dashboard almost like a reminder that this wasn’t a venture to buy drugs. 

As much as he wished it was. 

He knew the roads in Vegas like the back of his hand and he traversed them on autopilot. One road blurred into another, his focus waning. 

All he could really make out through his tired and heavy eyes was the assault of light around every turn, seemingly getting brighter with each new street he drove down. 

It soon became blinding, piercing his retinas as somehow he continued to drive, but all he could see was light. It all felt like some kind of fever dream, the haze that shrouded his brain was so familiar somehow. 

It was almost as if he was high. But that wasn’t possible, was it? He’d remember if he’d used, wouldn’t he? 

No, he couldn’t be high, he was simply fatigued. He was exhausted from work, drained from the constant internal battle he was fighting over his abstinence. 

He just needed to see your face, to rid his vision of these damn lights that seemed determined to impede his vision. 

He never could see clearly since you’d been gone. 

Somehow he ended up parking the SUV on a quiet and sleepy road and then once again, his limbs moving without his brain telling them to do so, he was climbing out of the vehicle, up the front steps of a building, and knocking on the door. 

He didn’t know what he planned on saying when, or if you opened the door. He hadn’t exactly stopped to think this through, if he had done there was no way he would have just shown up at your door after five years. He had more sense than that. At least he usually did. 

All he knew was that if he didn’t see your face he had absolutely no doubt he would relapse. It was an incredible amount of pressure to put on one person, his sobriety rested on your shoulders and you were none the wiser. 

He rubbed his palm aggressively against his left eye socket while he waited, still someone seeing those blinding lights long after they’d disappeared. 

Time had ceased to be relevant to Spencer long ago and so he had no idea how long it was he was standing in your stoop, rubbing his eye as if to somehow erase any trace of light still poisoning his retinas. 

But eventually the door creaked open, slowly, cautiously; it was the middle of the night and of course you would be sceptical about someone knocking on your door. 

He dropped his hand back to his side as you appeared from behind the door, your hands clutching the wood, ready to slam it closed again if you perceived a threat. 

Your brow was furrowed and you were rolling your bottom lip between your teeth. But a fraction of a second later he saw the realisation flood your features, the recognition of the man on the other side of your door in the middle of the night. 

Your frown faded at the same time your eyes widened in an animated fashion. Your jaw fell, leaving your mouth agape while you sucked in a thick breath. The hands that had been clutching the doorframe fell to your sides and you simply stared at him unblinking. 

“Uh, hi Y/N.” He offered you a meek shrug which told you without the use of his words that he had no idea why he was here. 

He stuffed his hands inside of his pockets and brushed his fingertips across the chip in an attempt to keep him grounded but it failed. 

You remained silent, taking him in. He’d aged, of course he had, so had you. But in your mind he was still the twenty-one year old saying his goodbyes as he left you forever in pursuit of his own dreams, in the process destroying your own. 

But it wasn’t just the fact he’d aged, he almost seemed like a completely different person from the one you remembered; a ghost of his former self. 

The dark circles he always wore under his eyes were blacker than you recalled, a stark contrast again his sallow, alabaster skin. His eyes always held so much emotion, like his heart lived through his pupils but right now they were vacant, staring through you rather than at you. 

His lips were cracked and split from profuse chewing, something you knew he only did when he was nervous or upset. His shoulders drooped, his neck retreated inside his sweater as though he just wanted to disappear inside it all together. 

You took a few breaths, trying to hurriedly reconcile all the emotions running rampant within you so you could move past them and focus on this broken man on your doorstep. 

“Spencer,” you swallowed as you spoke. “What are you…why are you…?” 

“I’ve been trying to call. I’ve been…” his voice was trembling and trailed off to try and correct it, whilst also trying to clutch at the right words. “I’ve been on my own for long enough.” 

The last part of his sentence was whispered, so quiet you had to strain your ears to hear him. 

He hung his head, looking down at his feet as he didn’t want to see your reaction to his pathetic words. He grasped the medallion tightly, it still didn’t help him to feel rooted. 

But then he felt your delicate fingers brushing against the underside of his jaw, gently guiding his face back up until your eyes met. Even when they did, you kept your hand on him and your simple touch was everything he needed to feel tethered again. 

It was as if you realised this too, as your lip started curling into a soft smile and when you removed your hand from under his chin you were quick to place it instead on his wrist. 

“You wanna come in?” You tapped his arm, causing him to dislodge his hand from his pocket. 

He nodded a little too frantically, sending his messy curls bouncing into his eyes. But he didn’t seem to care. 

With his hand free out of his pocket he hurriedly caught your own hand and the grip in which he held you showed off his desperation. 

You offered him another smile before leading him inside by his hand. And somehow just thanks to your touch, he felt whole once more. 

***

You made some chamomile tea while Spencer sat on your couch, eyes scouring the room, taking in every inch of your life. He committed everything to memory, drew a map of your home on his heart. 

By the time you returned Spencer had made himself comfortable, his converse tucked neatly next to the couch and he sat with legs criss crossed, a big plush sofa cushion resting in his lap. He was toying with something shiny between his fingers but he quickly pocketed it when he saw you coming back. 

You handed Spencer one of the mugs which he took with a small, tight lipped smile of thanks. You sat down on the other end of the couch, leaving ample space between the two of you. 

Spencer took a sip and if he noticed it was scalding hot it didn’t even seem to register with him. He cradled the mug in his hands and sighed. 

“I don’t know.” He croaked, barely able to maintain eye contact with you for more than half a second. 

“You don’t know what?” You replied, giving him a slightly curious look. 

“You want to know why I’m here. You were inevitably going to ask. And the answer is: I don’t know.” He sipped more of the tea. 

“Ok.” There was no point in following that up, no use reminding him of how many years it had been because he knew that better than you did. 

“I tried to call.” He said for the second time. “A lot.” 

“I had to change my number a while back. I had some issues with an ex-boyfriend. He got…obsessed after the break up. It’s ok now though.” You shrugged. 

Spencer noticeably winced, hating himself for not being able to be there for you during that time. It also had a little to do with the idea of you being with someone who wasn’t him. 

He’d asked you to go with him. When he moved to Virginia, he’d asked you to go with him. But you had a life in Vegas, you had dreams of your own that you weren’t willing to give up in order to chase his. 

And along the way you’d met someone else, of course you had. Just because he hadn’t even so much as looked at another person in the last five years, it didn’t mean you had to do the same. 

But secretly, he’d wished you had. 

He sipped his tea, his heart constricting inside of his chest at the thought of you with another man. You were each other's firsts; you were Spencer’s only. 

When he didn’t speak again you put your mug down on the coffee table and scooted a little closer to him. He could feel the heat radiating off of you. 

Spencer hadn’t been able to see clearly since you’d been gone, but now as he looked at you it was like a thick fog had lifted from in front of his eyes. 

“Spence?” You brought him back to the present, eyes blinking at you several times. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” 

He copied you and put his own mug next to yours on the coffee table before lacing his hands together on the cushion in his lap. 

“I’ve been…unwell.” He mused, remembering the terminology Ethan had used to describe his addiction. “I mean, I was unwell but I got better. And recently I guess I’ve been feeling…sick again.” 

You tentatively reached out and placed your hand on top of his and he felt so instantly relaxed at the feeling of your skin on his. 

“And you came here because…”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I just knew if I didn’t see you I would have done something stupid tonight. I…I’ve missed you.”

Of course he’d known he missed you before this moment, but Spencer had long ago compartmentalised those emotions. He tried not to dwell on them because if he did he probably wouldn’t make it out of bed most mornings. 

Your absence had left a hole in his life. He’d tried filling it with work, and for the most part it had been effective. 

But being beaten to death and back again in Hankel’s cabin, all those emotions managed to break free of the cage in which he’d held them captive. 

Dilaudid helped mute them, helped him escape from the loneliness he’d harboured for five years. Being sober again, he’d been forced to feel everything. 

You briefly squeezed his hands before softening your grip, unaware of just how much your touch was soothing him. 

“It’s been so long, Spencer.” You breathed out, thumb caressing his knuckles. “I missed you so much and now you’re here…” Now you’re here I never want to be apart from you again. 

“I know.” He nodded, knowing what you weren’t saying. “Me too.” 

A quiet understanding passed between the two of you while you unlaced his hands so you could entwine your fingers with his. 

All the pent up emotions clung to the walls of the room like stale cigarette smoke. Everything that had ever been left unsaid between the two of you being spoken without the use of words. 

You sat like this for some time until, still keeping your hands interlaced, you stood up, tugging Spencer to do the same. 

He let you lead him by the hand towards your bedroom where you let go of him so you could lie down on top of the made bed. He took a few seconds of contemplation before an encouraging smile from you convinced him to do the same. 

You laid on your backs but your hand soon found his again and he held on so tightly as if afraid you might float away. 

His other hand slipped inside of his pocket and he pulled out the medallion which he cupped inside of his palm. 

With you there by his side, holding his hand, the chip was much less taunting of him than it had been earlier in the night. 

It was never supposed to be an omen, but a talisman, and now he was seeing it for what it really was. 

He had two months until he would receive his own, and laying next to you in your bed he finally believed he could achieve that. 

He rolled his head to the side on the pillow and you did the same, a soft smile cloying to your lips. 

“What…what happens tomorrow?” He couldn’t help but ask, always in need of answers to questions that didn’t always need asking. 

You gently squeezed his hand as a small exhale left your parted lips. 

“Let’s worry about that in the morning, ok?” 

“I wish I could.” He rolled his lip between his teeth. “Maybe coming here was a bad idea. I don’t know if I can just leave again this time.” 

“Spence,” you shuffled a little closer to him. “We’ll figure it out, ok? But if you think for a second I’m just going to be able to let you walk away again, well for a genius, that’s just dumb.” 

Spencer couldn’t help the chuckle that left his lips as his heart soared at your words. He brushed his fingers over yours whilst doing the same to his chip. 

He exhaled a slightly shaky breath whilst turning completely onto his side and opening his palm so you could see the coin.

“It’s not mine.” He was quick to say. “I still have two more months to make my year.” 

He didn’t need to say more than that. You mirrored his position and took the medallion from his open palm. 

He wanted you to have all the facts, to have total transparency between you so you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into. But he underestimated just how much you still knew him. 

“I figured.” You whispered. “You’ll get there. And if you’ll let me, I’d like to help you.” 

Once again his heart soared, his whole body feeling lighter than air. Tears he didn’t know had sprung to his eyes, started rolling down his cheeks but yet, he was smiling. 

“I’d like that very much.” He nodded against the pillow. 

You fell into silence after that and soon Spencer’s tired eyes started to flutter closed.

You’d been the one to show him how to love and along the way he’d forgotten. But now he was starting to remember it all. He’d been on his own for long enough and maybe, just maybe, you could show him how to love all over again. 

Being In your presence, the voices in his head were silenced, the lights weren’t quite so blinding. And with your touch, he could finally sleep. 

[dancingtotuyo]

Home | Part 2

Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Reader

Rating: PG-13

Summary: You and Frankie come to a crossroads

Tags: fluff, angst, family, recovering!frankie, girl dad!Frankie

Warnings: references to past drug use (cocaine), addiction recovery, struggling to cope, let me know if I missed anything

Notes: once again- thank you to the lovely @wannab-urs for beta reading!

I don’t think this is going to turn into a full fledge series but I definitely foresee myself revisiting this little family at least once more.

Words: 2225

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist

Life either feels like it’s rushing by in a blur or crawling at a snail's pace. Layla is growing like a weed, standing as tall and as straight as a yardstick. You celebrate her third birthday in the summer, filling this old house with smiles and laughter. You wish it could always be this way.

Frankie gets his helicopter license reinstated the year before. It helps, but you still see the struggle in his eyes. Despite his assurances that he’s not touched cocaine since he got busted, you find yourself checking his old hiding places and searching for new ones. You haven’t found anything yet. He’s given no indication of using again, but you see the stress carved out in his forehead and the weight of the world on his shoulders. It feels like a when, not an if. You don’t know how to slow down the barreling train.

Then, one night he’s not home. It’s well past midnight as you sit on the couch wrapped tightly in a blanket staring out the window. You pray for his high beams to blind you. There’s a pit forming in your stomach. He always tells you when he’s coming home. The only pictures you can conjure up are of him snorting lines. The background changes, but you always see the same blown pupils staring back at you.

The night you met, you’d done lines together off Frankie’s dealer’s coffee table. The dealer was dating your roommate at the time. It hadn’t been the first time you used or the last, but you could count the times you had on your hands. You escaped the addiction. Frankie hadn’t.

It’s after 1 am when his headlights finally shine in your eyes. You stay on the couch, not eager to greet what’s coming through your back door. Frankie’s feet are heavy on the back stoop. There’s a pattern, a routine to them. Two knocks on the side of the house, three stomps on the doormat. The rattling storm door opens and then the ever present squeak of the backdoor echoes through the quiet house.

Taking a deep breath, you pull yourself up. Frankie's eyes meet yours as you flick on the kitchen light. It stings both your eyes. You search for any signs of a fading high. He seems calm, a bit shaken but not in a coked out way. His eyes dilate as they should. He catches your careful inspection. “I’m not high.”

You bite your lip. “Then where have you been?”

Deep bags stain under his eyes. His shoulders slump. He looks exhausted. “I went to get high… sat in the alley for hours.”

“Fuckin’ christ, Frankie!” You hiss, pinching the bridge of your nose. You’re not sure you can survive another relapse.

“Baby, I didn’t. I told you.” He grabs your hand, voice breaking. He needs you to believe him. “Please.”

“Why didn’t you call me? I’ve been worried sick!”

“I’m sorry. I had a bad day and-” a sharp little cry interrupts him, and then another. It reminds you of a kitten. They seem to be coming from his duffel. “Shit.” Frankie drops your hands, rushing over to his duffel.

Carefully, he unzips the bag, catching a ball of black fluff that threatens to escape. Your jaw drops. “Francisco Morales! What the fuck is that?”

He holds the kitten to his chest, fingers scratching behind its ears. It’s tiny, probably not old enough to be weaned from its mother yet. “I saw him in the alley.” The kitten nuzzles into Frankie more. “I couldn’t find any other kittens or the mom. The little guy was all alone.”

“And probably infected with fleas.”

“So, I’ll throw my bag in the dryer.” Frankie shrugs. “and pick up some flea and tick medication tomorrow.”

“We can’t take care of a kitten. We’re not prepared.”

“Can’t say we were prepared to take care of Layla either, but she’s still alive,” A faint smile graces Frankie’s face either from the joke or the way the tiny animal is falling asleep in his solid arms.

You bite your lip. Frankie is tired and worn and barely fighting off the demons, but he’s smiling, maybe even relaxing a little. He chuckles as the kitten perks back up, swatting at Frankie’s fingers.

You sigh. “He has to stay in the bathroom tonight, and he’s going to the vet as soon as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Frankie winks, stepping toward you.

You sigh, letting the night’s tension out. Frankie is here. He’s okay physically. He’s not coked up. Of all the outcomes you spent hours worrying over, this one is sunshine and rainbows. As the tension eases, you feel more inclined toward the kitten. He’s a little ball of midnight fur, not a speck of other color to be seen.

“I swear to god, Frank if he has rabies-”

“Then I’m already dead.” He teases.

You smack his shoulder. “Or any other communicable diseases, I’m going to kill you.”

“He’s just a kitten, Babe.” Frankie smiles, kissing the tuft of fur between his tiny ears.

You sigh. “I’ll grab some newspaper. You’ll have to give him milk.”

“Don’t kittens like milk?”

“He’ll probably get the runs. Cats can’t digest milk.” You shoot Frankie the side eyes, gathering the necessary supplies to get the kitten settled.

Frankie is in the bathroom with him until almost 3 am. You have to admit. You almost feel bad leaving the tiny animal alone. Almost. The last thing you need is a flea infestation.

Frankie eventually curls up next to you, sighing as he nuzzles into your neck. “Think he’ll be okay?”

“You found him in an alley. One night curled up on a towel in our bathroom won’t hurt him.”

“Layla is going to love him.”

A laugh sputters from your lips. “If she doesn’t choke him to death. We’re still working on gentle hands.”

Frankie’s laugh joins yours from deep within him. It’s the kind that brings a smile, a true one, about. It’s something that’s been rare as of late.

His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His hands wander haplessly. You bite your lip, soaking in the feeling of his warm hands across your body as you remember how close you came to losing this tonight.

He kisses your neck. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

You squeeze his hand. “You always worry me.”

Frankie inhales sharply, squeezing you tighter. His lips play at your ear. “I’m sorry for that too.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It kinda is.”

“Addiction is a disease, Frankie.”

He huffs, never accepting that response. He feels guilty. He feels responsible for getting hooked on coke, putting you through hell and back.

“If I never-”

“If you never- we wouldn’t be here. We wouldn’t have met. We wouldn’t have Layla.”

Frankie sighs, dropping his forehead into your shoulder. You feel the hot tears slipping down your neck. Kissing his head, you thread your fingers through his thick brown curls. Something else is waging war inside him and you think he may finally tell you.

“I think I almost died tonight.”

Your fingers still. Frankie pulls back so that he can look you right in the eyes. The moonlight flickers off of them in your favorite way. “What happened?”

Frankie shakes his head. “Nothing. I looked at that alley for so long tonight. I just had a feeling that if I went in, there was no coming back.”

Your heart clenches in your chest. You’ve felt it too, the boulder hanging over your heads, like a sixth sense. If Frankie slips again, there’s no coming back, and relapse has felt so close.

He clenches your pillow in his fist. More tears pour from his eyes. “And what’s worse is the only thing that kept me from it was that damned cat.”

You thumb away one of his tears. “I don’t think that’s true, Frank.”

“I was about-”

“And how long did you sit there before the cat showed up?”

“I don’t know. An hour, maybe two. It took me just as long to catch the cat.”

You stifle a laugh, caressing his cheek. “He might’ve given you a reason to walk away, but I don’t think that cat is the only reason you didn’t relapse tonight.”

“We need to do a better job at talking.”

You nod. “Agreed.”

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep checking my hiding spots.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “You know about that?”

“Yeah,” Frankie nods. “And I don’t blame you either.

You stare at him for a moment. His eyes seem clearer today than they have in months. He’s warm against you. He’s home, and he’s your Frankie.

“Will you tell me what happened in Colombia? What really happened?”

He sucks in a breath, rolling onto his back. His hand travels to the meat of your thigh. He squeezes and rubs as if he’s self-soothing. “Please don’t leave.”

It comes out just above a whisper. Your heart clenches. This is why he won’t talk about it. Not because of the trauma, but because he’s scared you’ll walk away from him after. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

He takes in a long breath, holding it, and then releasing it. Then, he recounts it all until the sun is peeking through your bedroom windows.

As predicted, Layla is obsessed with the kitten the moment Frankie brings him out. You give him a bath before you let her touch him, treating him with flea and tick medication Frankie grabbed from the grocery store that morning.

Once he’s bathed and treated, the three of you sit on the kitchen floor for hours with the newest member of your family. You’re exhausted and you see the same in Frankie from not sleeping the night before, but your daughter is enthralled by the kitten as the two of them stay occupied with an old shoelace. Nap time is a long way off.

Layla throws a fit to get the kitten to take a nap with her, but you stand firm. He needs at least 24 hours for the flea medication to do its job. You and Frankie fall into sun-soaked sheets once she’s down. Your eyes drift close immediately and Frankie pulls you flush against him.

“Kitten needs a name.” He mumbles.

“Never said it was staying.”

“Ya didn’t need to.”

“You name him. You’re the one who brought him home.”

It’s quiet for a second. Your brain slips further into darkness.

“Cocaine.”

“What?”

“His name. I went into the alley to find Cocaine and I found him.”

You sit up, eyes bleary, but sleep the furthest thing from your mind now. “Our three-year-old daughter is not going to yell out for Cocaine, Frankie.”

His chest shakes with laughter, a smile dancing on his lips. “C’mon. It’s cute. She can call him Coke.” You cross your arms across your chest. Frankie sees none of it, eyes still closed. “... or Coco. That’s cute.”

You huff. Frankie still doesn’t seem to notice but pulls you back down against him instead. “Said I could name him, babe.”

“She’s not calling him Cocaine.”

You fall asleep to Frankie’s deep chuckle.

To Layla, he’s Coco. Frankie calls him a rotation of things like Coke and Cokey, his actual name, and sometimes Little Shit. You call him Crack from the way he zooms through the house at all times of the day.

Layla is obsessed with her newest little pal, always wanting him to be in her room or bed, or to take him to the grocery store, but he spends the nights curled up in your bed – usually around Frankie’s legs.

The times that little Cocaine Morales isn’t flying through your home on a fruitless hunt, he’s curled up somewhere. If Frankie is home, you can find him on his lap, or riding his shoulder. You know he’s much more than a cat to Frankie.

You like having him too. He’s brought joy into your home. It’s a joy that had become rare- only showing up for Layla’s milestones and sparing minutes. You know it’s not just Cocaine. It’s what he represents. He’s a marker for the night things changed for the better.

You and Frankie are talking about it all, the nightmares, the demons. Something that’s been absent for too much of your relationship. You both have begun to seek out help, separately and together. You don’t check Frankie’s hiding spots anymore. The deep, swelling love you’ve always had for him once again bubbles over, filling every crack and crevice of your home. Frankie is more present, more attentive. Slowly but surely, ghosts flee one by one.

Layla’s nickname for the kitten dies the moment Uncle Ben walks into your Labor Day cookout. From the moment on, she spends her time calling out for Cocaine. Her plethora of uncles are a gaggle of hidden chuckles and mischief each time. You shoot glares their way, but you can’t help but find it just as cute.

This thing that nearly tore your family apart, is now something you laugh about bundled into a cute little ball of black fur. The catalyst for things getting better.

There are still dark days, but they’re few and far between. While the thoughts play through Frankie’s mind from time to time, he never returns to the alley.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey Steph,

I am in the mood for some really long fics. Preferably not AU as I find those hard to get into. Although, like always, I am open to your all your suggestions.

Loves Seven.

Hi Lovely!!

Ahhh, I've a TONNE of long fics, and a lot of them AREN'T AUs! I'm gonna use your ask as an excuse to post a new list, and please check out the other pages linked below! I label if a fic is an AU or not, so just skip over those if you're not up for them! Enjoy!

NOVEL LENGTH FICS: 50 to 100K Pt 4

See also:

Novella Length Fics: 20 to 25K (Oct 2020)

Novella Length Fics: 25 to 50K (Aug. 2019)

Novella Length Fics: 25 to 50K Pt 2 (July 2022)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K (Nov. 2018)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K Pt 2 (May 2020)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K Pt 3 (Jul 2022)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. (May 2019)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. Pt 2 (Aug 2020)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. Pt 3 [MFL’s] (Dec 2020)

Long Domestic Johnlock (50K+ w.) (March 2023)

Smut-Free Fics Over 50K (Aug 2019)

Top 20 Fave 40K+ w. Fics (April 2017)

Long S3/Post-S3 Fics (20K+ w.) [Apr 2020]

Hurt / Comfort Pt. 4: 50K+ Words Pt. 1

Anxious / Worried Sherlock Pt 2 (Over 20K w.)

Long Pining Fics (50K+) [March 2023]

G,T, & M-Rated Johnlock for Newcomers Pt. 3 (20K+)

Genius is a Star Whose Light (is Soon to Sink in Endless Night) by LoloLolly (M, 51,812 w., 11 Ch. || Canon Compliant Through TFP/S4 Is Canon, Aftermath of Serbia, Alternating POV,  Established / New Relationship, Parentlock with Rosie, Explicit Torture, Mentions of Sherlock’s PTSD, Mentions of Human Trafficking, References to Child Abuse, Violence, Kidnapping, Captivity, Angst with Happy Ending, Fluff, Case Fic, BAMF / Soldier John, Sherlock Whump, Mycroft and John Work Together, Marriage Proposal, Autistic Sherlock, Lestrade Finds Out, Polyglot Sherlock) – Sherlock had buried the past. Shut Serbia away in the attic of his mind palace. Muddy footprints at a heinous crime scene, however, have led him right back to old enemies. And right back to captivity. For God’s sake, Mycroft. Part 2 of the Earthly Pomp (Is But a Dream) series

Spare Parts by Raina_at (E, 63,497 w., 10 Ch. || 24th Century / Futurism AU || Post TRF, Pre-TRF Relationship, Case Fic, Mutual Pining, Estrangement, Reconciliation, Science Fiction, Reunion, Nightmares, Angry John, Cybernetic John, Emotional Discussions / Heart to Heart, POV John, Scars, Past Drug Use, Forehead Touching, Emotional Lovemaking, Kissing, Apologies, Kidnapping, Rescue Mission, BAMF John, Bed Sharing, Top Sherlock) – Two years ago, Sherlock Holmes jumped off the roof of New London Hospital. Two months ago, he walked into John's clinic as if no time had passed at all. John hasn't seen him since. But then Sherlock knocks on John's door with a case he can't say no to, and while figuring out why the biggest manufacturer or synthetic limbs in the System is going after veterans, they also need to find out whether there's a way to fix what's broken between them. Part 1 of Realigning Gravity

Swallow the Night by ArwaMachine (E, 87,873 w., 15 Ch. || TSo3/Stag Night Fix It, TAB/S4 Divergence, Toplock, Mutual Pining, PWP, Drunk / Public Sex, Anal Fingering/Sex, Alcohol-Induced Amnesia, Everyone Knows Except Them, Emotional Love Confession, Demisexual Sherlock, Internalized Homophobia [John], Parentlock with Rosie, First Kiss, Drug Relapse, Infidelity, Texting, Masturbation, Oblivious John, Emotional Love Making, Angst with Happy Ending, Dreams and Nightmares) – “Do you know how long,” John panted, his cheek scraping against the wall, looking back at Sherlock through half-closed eyes, “I’ve wanted this?” Sherlock pressed himself against John’s back, biting at John’s ear. “Not nearly as long as I have,” he whispered.

Bakers with Benefits by Raina_at (E, 88,130 w., 14 Ch. || Great British Bake Off AU || Strangers to Lovers, Switchlock, Friends with Benefits, Mentions of Alcoholism / Past Drug Use, Banter, Flirting, Fluff, Light Angst, Semi-Public Sex, Past Sherlock/Victor, Mutual Pining, POV Sherlock, Obsessive Sherlock, John’s Bum) – Sherlock Holmes has a successful YouTube baking channel, but what he really wants is his own bakery. When an old friend sends him a call for the very first Great British Bake Off, he seizes the opportunity to finally win a sponsor for his bakery. Here's the plan: Win Bake Off, get the bakery, don't fall in love with the handsome Army doctor at the neighbouring station. Easy.

Fade To Black by twistedthicket1 (M, 93,389 w., 29 Ch. || Split Personality Disorder / DID, Action, Romance, Violence, Implied Rape/Non-Con, BAMF John, Fluff and Angst, Baskerville, Human Experimentation, PTSD, Implied Self Harm, Trauma Amnesia, Past Child Sexual Abuse, Protective Sherlock, Smoking, Meddling Mycroft, Past Victor/Sherlock, Gay Sherlock, Sherlock’s Past, First Kiss/Time) – John Watson believes one day he'll just fade. That he'll drown in the black spaces of his mind, and that one day he will no longer exist. It's always been like this, the dark spots marking out moments in his life he can't remember. Where for just a moment he's someone else. Having a Dissociative identity disorder, he can't even be entirely sure he's really who he says he is. Then he meets Sherlock Holmes. A brilliant detective who when he looks at you can read your entire life story. John is immediately fascinated and afraid, half-wondering if maybe Sherlock can see the other personalities in him and half terrified of the thought of him finding out. Becoming his flatmate seems at once to be a wonderful and horrible idea. Yet as John's Blackouts become more and more severe and his other personalities begin to truly awaken and show themselves with Sherlock's help, the two soon discover that sometimes even the kindest person can harbour a demon best left untouched inside of them. Because not all of John's other personalities play nicely and some may be hiding secrets best left undisturbed...

[itsplumwriter]

Bucky Finds Out Your Boyfriend Is Abusive

POV: Bucky finds out your boyfriend just hit you and decides to confront him.

ok so this one is a little dark and obviously there will be several trigger warnings. if you can relate to this in anyway.. i am sooo sorry. God did not create relationships for us to be victimized or abused in. if you are in an abusive relationship right now please tell someone as fast as you can, know that you deserve better and need to be treated properly. if you escaped an abusive relationship and are dealing with the aftermath, please know that healing is a process; sometimes you'll feel great, other times you may relapse into despair; just know you are not your past, how they treated you doesn’t define you, and greater days are ahead - you made the right choice by getting out of there. I'll pray God watches over and blesses all your relationships, dolls <3

Dedicated to Bridget <33

Recommended song: shawn mendes - treat you better (slowed)

trigger warnings: abuse, bruises, toxic/abusive relationship, slight physical altercation

--- --- ---

Bucky was having the best time.

It had been forever since you had come over just to hang out; he'd almost forgotten how fun it was. Bucky had ordered pizza in. You brought over some chocolate ice-cream. And the two of you threw popcorn at each other while watching Disney movies and working on a puppy puzzle. It was a simple hangout, yet it meant everything to Bucky.

He missed you... a lot.

Ever since you started dating another agent from Shield you rarely had time to hang out with him anymore. He knew it was his own fault for not asking you out first. He had liked you for a long time, but he had waited too long... Nearly a year of flirting, but he never made a move.

He was afraid if he did he’d lose you as a friend altogether. And there was no chance of him hurting you if you were with someone else, so he figured maybe it was better this way.

The problem was you didn't even seem happy with this boyfriend of yours... you always looked drained when you came into work, as if you hadn't slept all night, and you were constantly on your phone responding to his incessant texts and calls.

There was a time when you even stopped smiling, stopped hanging out with the rest of the team, stopped talking to Bucky altogether.

Bucky was about to confront you about your change in behavior, but you kept turning down his invites to hangout, saying you and your boyfriend were too busy. 

In reality it was because your boyfriend didn't want you hanging out with anyone else, especially Bucky. He gathered quickly the dynamic between you and Bucky and immediately categorized it as a threat. So, out of jealousy, he didn't allow you to see him except at work.

The fact was, you were miserable. The slightest thing could set your boyfriend off. You were walking on eggshells at all times trying to keep him happy. He hadn't hit you as of yet, but he had thrown things and yelled so loud it'd make you cry. You wanted to break up with him; but you were just so terrified of the reaction you kept putting it on hold.

He must have suspected this because today he finally agreed to allow you to see your best friend Bucky (as long as you agreed to text him before and after). You jumped on the opportunity.

You popped some popcorn into your mouth, watching Bucky scrunch his nose, concentrating on fitting a piece into the puppy puzzle.

You smiled… you missed him.

You had forgotten how nice it was to hang out with him. How easy.

There had been a light on-and-off buzzing sound all throughout your visit with Bucky that you'd been ignoring. When you heard it again, you realized what it was.

You nearly knock over the popcorn, searching your bag for your phone. Your stomach flips the moment you see it.

Apparently, your boyfriend had changed his mind about allowing you to hang out with Bucky and wanted you home immediately…. two hours ago.

Your heart sinks. “I've gotta go..." you utter.

"Already...?"

You barely nod before you grab your bag and scurry out of there.

"Alright… well then, I guess I'll see you lat--"

You slam the door before he can finish. You didn't mean to ignore him. But you were terrified. Terrified of the result of this. 

Bucky's eyebrows were still furrowed long after you left. His eyes wander to the floor when he sees you left your wallet behind.

--- --- ---

Bucky approaches the door of your apartment, your wallet in hand. He'd come to return it as well as see what was the cause of your urgency.

It takes you a while to answer the door and when you do Bucky turns stark white.

You're holding an icepack to your eye, and there is blood on your lip and brow. 

It takes you a moment to realize it’s him. You turn red from embarrassment.

"Bucky... I- I thought you were someone else..."

Bucky pushes his way in, lifting your chin to inspect your face. "Y/N?? What happened to you?"

You drop your gaze. "Nothing... I'm fine.”

Bucky starts looking around the apartment.

"Did your boyfriend do this to you?" he asks, urgently.

You don't answer him. You can't even look at him.

Bucky begins searching the entire apartment.

"Where is he??"

"I don't know..."

"Y/n!! Tell me!!"

"I don't know! The bar maybe?... Why?"

Bucky nods, storming out the apartment.

"Bucky, where are you going??"

Before you knew it, he was gone.

--- --- ---

Bucky strides into the bar, fuming at this point. It only takes him a few moments to spot your boyfriend by the bar table, talking to a group of people.

The guy is all smiles and without a scratch on him. This makes Bucky even madder.

Your boyfriend spots him and cheers. "Hey! Metal man! What are you doing here?"

He doesn't know Bucky that well. In fact, he seemed to go out of his way to ignore him at work, especially after finding out Bucky was such good friends with you. But his fake charm had always been a part of his façade. Bucky couldn't believe he never realized it. Never realized this man was abusive.

Bucky doesn't break his momentum; as soon as he's close, he shoves him hard on the shoulder and snatches him by his neck, making his grin vanish into thin air.

The bar quiets down to eavesdrop.

"I'm not going to hurt you, because I'm not that guy anymore..." Bucky says, through gritted teeth. "But if you touch y/n again... Rule #2 won't be the only thing I'll break around here..."

Bucky releases him, turning to leave quickly before his anger lands him in jail.

"I don't see how it's any of your business, Barnes..." he calls out, adjusting his collar.

Bucky stops mid-walk.

"I mean, she's my girl... I can do whatever I want…”

Bucky turns around, moving on him like a hyena before grabbing his neck, lifting him clean off the ground and slamming him hard against the table.

He growls. "Don't test me..."

With Bucky’s hand on his neck, he makes small gurgling noises and turns red before conceding.

"Alright!!" He manages to squeeze out.

Bucky releases, dropping him to the floor with a thud.

Random drunkards in the bar start whistling and cheering for Bucky.

But Bucky's expression doesn't change. He storms out the bar, headed back to his main area of concern. You.

--- --- ---

"Y/n... you still in here?"

Bucky steps into your apartment cautiously.

You get up from the couch. “Bucky... what happened?"

Bucky goes straight to your room, pulling a bag from your closet and throwing clothes in from your dresser.

“I almost ripped his head off… but I didn’t. I’m pretty sure he’ll leave you alone now though.”

You watch Bucky packing your clothes. “What are you doing?"

“You're not safe here... He could come back to your apartment...”

Your heart warms at the sight of his actions. The act was sweet. Bucky had always been sweet. The only guy who actually cared and was a good friend to you. You needed to tell him. It was unfair to keep it a secret any longer.

"Bucky, you should know, I never really liked him... I've always really liked you."

Bucky turns white, clearing his throat. "Do you wanna stay at Nat's house tonight?"

"...Bucky, did you hear me?"

"Hmm?"

You purse your lips together. "What do you think about what I just said..."

Bucky doesn't respond, continuing to fling your clothes into your bag.

“Bucky…?”

Your stomach twists with embarrassment. "Look, if you don't feel the same way, you can just say so, but don't act like you can’t hear me--"

"Y/n, of course I feel the same way!" he blurts and it silences you. "And I feel sick to my stomach I waited so long to tell you... waited so long that you had to waste your time with that clown... If I had just admitted it earlier that jerk wouldn't have had the chance to... I should have just... this is all my fault."

Bucky plops down on the edge of your bed, burying his hands in his face, starting to sob.

You wait a moment before approaching him, putting your hand on his shoulder. "Bucky, this isn't your fault... like at all."

Bucky sighs. "Thanks, doll… but I know it’s not true…”

You lift Bucky’s chin with your hand. “Listen to me Bucky. This is his fault… and his fault alone. You hear me?”

Bucky looks up at you, examining your bruises again, putting his hand on your cheek. "Does it hurt, doll..."

You shake your head, softly wiping his tears. "Not really... I’d say it’s getting better.”

Bucky nods.

“Ill drive you to Nat’s house. But after that, what do you need? Is there anything else I can do?”

You shrug. “… Nothing you haven’t already done since the day we met… Just be there for me.”

—- —- —-

hope you guys liked it <3

Follow me on insta: https://www.instagram.com/itsplumwriter

Join our community: https://www.patreon.com/itsplumwriter

<33

love you dolls! xo

[pascalscoffin]

Curvilínea

- Curvaceous - Requested by this lovely, lovely person

Full Pedro Masterlist

Warning: Minors Go Away I Will Kick You In The Forehead. Smut(it’s not crazy descriptive): oral (f receiving); protected p in v (do whatever you want); vaginal fingering; Javi talks about your pussy in the third person (shut up). Curvy/Plus size!reader. Reader uses she/her pronouns, she and Javi are the same age. Reader understands and speaks Spanish a couple times (probably like once). Reader co-owns a bar rather than just being a bartender. Body Shaming warning!! (Please it’s so mean. I had to look it up I couldn’t even fathom something to say. I FEEL DIRTY) I’ll have them in italics or something. Javi being a gentleman. Violence (a couple punches). Mentions of past drug use/abuse. Mentions of ODing. Alcohol mentioned briefly. Physical description of after an OD.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Co-owning a bar with your best friend wasn’t exactly your lifelong dream, though if you thought about it hard enough you didn’t ever have a “lifelong dream”. Sure when you were young you wanted to be a singer, an actor, a doctor, the president, a race car driver, a scientist, and a slew of other professions but the fascination with them never lasted long and you were hopping to the next ideal job faster than your parents could keep up.

But in college you met Lucy and Eloise, who would become two of your best friends. In your junior year, the three of discovered cocaine at a party, you and Eloise were more weekend or bi-weekend doers. Lucy, though, who’d grown up troubled and surrounded by the stuff, fell in head first. Lucy was always talking about the three of you opening up a bar together, naming it The Lucky Horseshoe, and living together in an apartment nearby.

And then that was the dream, you and Eloise stopped doing coke and fought to get and keep Lucy clean, which got more difficult with each relapse, until eventually Lucy went in over her head and you and Eloise found her face down in her own throw up.

After that, you and Eloise stuck true to your promise, saving up money and moving to Lucy’s hometown of Laredo, Texas to open the bar. She always talked about missing Laredo, so with her ashes, given as she didn’t have any family left besides the two of you, you went to Laredo and bought a small bar. Originally you were going to call it Lucy’s Horseshoe. But when you got the sign it had said Lucky Horseshoe, and considering that was what Lucy had wanted to name it, it stuck.

You and Eloise often worked together on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays since they were your busiest days of the week, one of you typically able to handle it during the week. Of course, it wasn’t perfect, drunk assholes were drunk assholes whether you owned the bar or not, they tended not to care if they were shitfaced enough. Which is why you were trying to politely tell this guy you weren’t interested, but he wasn’t getting the hint.

“Cmon, doll. When you gonna let me take you out, huh?” Don was a regular, every Friday at 8pm he came in and sat in the same stool until close, desperately trying to hit on you. “I don’t date patrons, Don. Besides, you’re drunk.” Don waved his hand at you with a grunt. “‘M tipsy. There’s a difference.” You made a face while you had your back turned, pouring him a glass of water and sitting it down. “Why don’t you drink some water and I’ll call you a cab.”

“Or c’n jus’ take me to your place. Show you a real good time.” You sighed heavily. “What’s the matter? You got a boyfriend or somethin’?” He scoffed, apparently finally agitated with your constant ‘no’s. “No- I don’t have a boyfriend-“ “girlfriend?” “No.” “Husband? Fiancé? Situationship? Anythin’ holdin’ ya down?”

“No, Don, I don’t.” “Then what’s the fuckin’ problem?” Don scoffed and you rubbed your hand against your leg. “… I’m just not interested, Don? Okay? I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, you’re a nice guy.. you’re just not my type.” Don leaned back and looked absolutely scandalized by the idea that you couldn’t possibly be interested in him.

“Seriously?” You opened your mouth but he stood up and cut you off. “I come here every god damn Friday, talk to you, try to be a nice fucking guy and take you out for a good time and I’m not your type?” His jaw clenched. “Y’know- I wouldn’t be so god damn picky if I couldn’t see my whole body when I looked in a fucking mirror. Fat bitch.” He ripped his jacket off his chair and turned around, immediately being cracked in the face, stumbling back and then getting hit again, actually falling out this time as OH’s echoed around.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Javier had decided, since he’s been back home for about a year and he’s now settled back in, that tonight he’d go out and try to dip his toes back into the dating pool. There were no high hopes, really, tonight was mostly just to go out and get a feel for what the pool actually looked like. When Chucho suggested a new bar called Lucky Horseshoe, Javier had been skeptical, thinking maybe it was one of his dad’s old guy bars.

He was surprised to see a nicely decorated bar with great music and even better alcohol lined up behind the bar. He’d looked around, contemplating sitting at a table before deciding he’d sit at the bar, and then there was the choice of sitting on the right of the bar or the left. After two minutes of staring at the bar he decided to sit on your side.

After he sat he took that time to look around and really get a feel for his surroundings, the place was nicely decorated and a look above the alcohol showed him different photos of you, the other bartender, and a third girl, the name Lucy was written in the middle of all the pictures and he imagined the other side of the bar looked the same, a closer look at the backsplash for the alcohol would show the same type of deal, photos of a pretty blonde girl, some photos had you and in the other bartender but most were different photos of just the girl, Lucy he guessed.

He hadn't been sitting there long when you'd strolled up to him, probably about a minute, he ordered a whiskey dry and then you were being called over by a guy who was definitely wasted and probably shouldn't have anymore drinks.

He was having a decent time, chatting up different women or talking about sports he couldn't care much for with guys that sat around him, just getting to know people rather than trying to get to know them. He’d picked up on the conversation a bit, keeping himself tuned in when he picked up on the guy’s persistence.

The guy barely had his insult out before Javier was standing up and walking over. He waited for him to turn around and immediately grabbed his collar with one hand, and hit him square in the nose with the other. He let go of his shirt and watched him stumble before hitting him again, watching him fall to the ground. “Fuck! Dude! I think you broke my fucking nose!” He yelled, blood pouring onto his shirt as he held his face.

“Someone should teach you how to speak to women.” Javier grabbed his collar and yanked him up. “What kind of idle-minded, pathetic Hijo de puta son of a bitch do you have to be to hit on a woman, and then talk shit about her body when she says no?” He growled, turning him and shoving him to the door, taking a step towards him as the kid, Javier could tell now he really was just some kid, probably just turned old enough to drink, way too boyish to go after a woman like you. He stumbled back a bit, holding his nose. “Now get the fuck out of here before I break more than your god damn nose.” He grabbed the guys blazer-gross-off the back of the chair he’d been sitting at and threw it in his face.

His friends, who were smart enough to stay out of the fight, helped their friend out of the bar, yelling that they’d just lost their business, though he figured it wouldn’t be missed very much. Javier found himself following behind them, standing just outside the door as he watched them get into their car and peel away.

He was just about to go back in, make sure you were alright, when he quite literally slammed into you just as you were stumbling out of the bar, holding in your own tears. "Shit- I'm sorry." You stepped away from him and he shook his head. "My fault, I wasn't paying much attention." He looked down at you and cleared his throat. "Are you alright?"

You nodded quickly, npt looking him in the eye as you felt the tears start to well up. You always put. on a brave face when people talked about your body, pretended like it didn't bother you, you'd grown up with the comments so at this point you should be desensitized to them. Yet, still, the comments always bothered you, the backhanded compliments about your clothing from skinny female patrons who had frat boys hanging off their shoulders, "innocently" agreeing with their weekly snatch.

"I'm fine." He didn't seem to believe you, though, his brows furrowing before he gently grabbed your hand. "Come on." He guided you over to pnce of the benches outside the bar and pulled his cigarettes from his pocket. You watched him curiously, waiting for him to say something as he put a cigarette between his lips and extended the pack for you to take one, you hesitantly took one and mumbled a soft thank you.

He didn't say anything, though, just put his pack away and lit the cigarette dangling between his lips before reaching his lighter out to light yours. Now that you were actually near him, silent, with no patrons keeping you from admiring him- he really was handsome. A prominent nose with laugh lines crinkling around his dark brown eyes as the flame of the lighter flickered in front of his face.

You looked away from him, though. Just because he punched a guy for body-shaming you, doesn't mean he's interested, he likely doesn't want you ogling him while he's just trying to smoke his cigarette. "Um... why did I have to... sit here?" You asked after a moment. He looked at you and shrugged. "Figured eventually you'd give up the lie and admit that you're not okay."

You blinked rapidly and looked over at him. "Excuse me?" He sighed and leaned forward a bit. "You're not okay." He shrugged a little. "You don't have to be, but... That guys a prick, alright? Shouldn't listen to him." You frowned a little as you pulled your cigarette from your lips, slowly exhaling the smoke from your lungs before letting out a soft laugh. "I don't even know your name and you expect me to just pour my heart out to you?"

You had to admit it seemed inticing, telling him everything that bothered you, because it felt like he wanted to listen, like he wanted you to tell him every little thing that entered your mind. "Javier Peña." You looked down at the hand thrusted towards you and looked back up at him before slowly taking it and telling him your name. He repeated it a time or two and the way it sounded on his tongue made the bottom of your stomach burn.

Peña... that name sounded familiar... "Is your dad Chucho?" You asked curiously, brows furrowed as he widened his eyes. ".. yes. Chucho is my dad." He chuckled. "Didn't realize he was on a first name basis." "Oh, yeah. Chucho's an angel." You laughed softly and sniffled. "So- you're the famous Javi he goes on and on about."

"God- he doesn't." "He does. You should meet mi hijo Javier, he always says." You laughed softly. "He's very proud of you, he loves you a lot." "Uh-huh. What else does he say about me?" You hummed softly. "Sorry, I've been sworn to secrecy." "Oh, have you?" "Oh, yeah. It was a whole thing." Javier snorted a little and shook his head. "Right. So.. he comes here a lot, then?" You nodded. "Definitely. i mean, you don't have to worry about him he really doesn't drink much, I think he just likes the company."

He nodded and took a drag from his cigarette, choking on it with your next sentence. "i also think he really likes talking you up." He coughed violently and looked at you with furrowed brows. "What?" You nodded. "Mhm. Always talking about what a good man you are, how him and your mama taught you how to properly treat a lady. He's had to tell Don off a time or two before." Huh... well played, Chucho.

The old man sure knew how to formulate a plan- and kill two birds with one stone. He knew Don would be there, knew he would bother you, and of course he knew his son would step in and save the day, and if you and Javier just so happened to hit off, then he could stop worrying so much about him.

"Mm I see." Javier nodded. "Well- thanks for letting him hang around." You shook your head with a laugh. "He's sweet, I was more than happy to keep him around." You said happily. Javier chuckled softly and nodded. "Still. Thank you."

You were quiet for a while, the two of you smoking your cigarettes as you glanced at Javier from the corner of your eye. "... thank you for what you did." Javier looked at you and shook his head. "Don't thank me. No one should be spoken to that way." You chewed on your lip. "I should be used to it now, really. I've heard shit like that so much..." "But it hurts anyway." He said softly, making you nod as you reached up to wipe your eye as tears started to slip again.

"Don't cry, mi diosa curvilínea." my curvaceous goddess. He whispered softly, reaching up to swipe under the opposite eye slowly. You laughed lightly and sniffled as you looked up at him. "Well Chucho was right about you being a real flatterer." Javier chuckled softly and tossed his cigarette to the side before taking yours and tossing it in the same direction. "I'm serious."

His other hand came up to cup both of your cheeks. "You shouldn't let a Pendejo like that make you upset. He's not worth it." He rubbed his thumbs along your cheeks. "A silly little boy who resorts to tantrums when he doesn't get what he wants. You're too much woman for him, anyway, he wouldn't know what to do with una diosa like yourself." You felt your cheeks warm up under his hands, a slow grin stretched across his face. "Now- do you think your friend would let you go for the night?"

"W-what?" Javier chuckled. "Would she let you leave? There's nto very many places open at this time of night but a woman such as yourself should be wined and dined- or at least dined." You laughed lightly. "Who says i wanna be 'wined and dined' by you?" You asked curiously.

Obviously you did, you really did, watching Javier knock out Don had started a stur in your belly and the longer you sat there with him the warmer it got, the tighter it pulled. But still, you couldn't just fall right in line, you didn't want him to think you were some kinda whore, especially not after Chucho's told you all kinds of admirable things about him.

Javier tilted his head a bit, his finger running down your cheek and along your bottom lip. "Do you?" He asked softly, his eyes searching over your face before settling on yours. You swallowed thickly and slowly started to nod. "I-I'll be right back." You stood up quickly and stumbled back towards the door, your cheeks burning as you spun around and went inside quickly, over to Eloise.

"Eloise. You know i love you and I would do the same thing for you in a heartbeat- can i please leave with that beautiful, beautiful man outside." Eloise looked up from the glass she was cleaning and widened her eyes. "You whore!" She gasped before looking around at the nearly empty bar. "I can totally handle this. Go, go, go. You deserve it- and I expect all the details tomorrow morning." You nodded rapidly. "Yes, obviously. Okay i have to go now thank you so much and wish me luck with Chucho's son."

As you were grabbing your coat and practically sprinting from the bar, you heard her screech. THAT'S CHUCHO'S SON?! When you stepped out you saw Javier looking at you with raised brows, chuckling softly. "So.. I'm famous around the bar?" You laughed and shrugged. "I told you, Chucho is very, very proud to have you as a son... as he should be."

Javier chuckled and shook his head a little as he started guiding you to his truck. "Whatever you say, Diosa." He looked at you curiously when you stopped. "What about my car?" You looked over towards the run down beamer and he chuckled. "It'll be fine here, I'll bring you back for it in the morning."

You were a little hesitant, your brain momentarily making you consider the fact that this man was very obviously capable, and that going off alone in a car with a man you didn't know was a very bad decision. But something about his eyes, his pouty lips, made you nod your head and smile at him. "Yeah I-I can just come back for it tomorrow." He nodded and guided you towards his truck, opening the passemger door for you to get in.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

The diner was small, warm enough you had to take off your jacket, but not so warm that you were sweating. Javi was sitting in front of you, his elbows pressed against the table. "So I know you're not from Laredo." You laughed and nodded.

"No. No I'm not." "So, where are you from, then?" He asked, you were waiting on your food so you didn't have to worry about a waiter coming over to take your orders. "Las Vegas." Javier's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "Vegas? Really?" "Oh, yeah." “How was that?” “Not that exciting, honestly.” You laughed softly and he chuckled.

“Yeah I guess all the drunk gamblers get annoying.” “God and it’s worse if you’re a woman with tits.” You rolled your eyes. “I swear, men get drunk and they think every woman with a pulse wants-“ you blinked rapidly as if realizing you were shit talking men- to a man. “Sorry.”

Javier shook his head. “Don’t be. I’m guilty of the same- except usually the women I come onto actually are into me.” He chuckled softly. “Pretty easy to tell when a woman’s not interested- if you have a couple brain cells to rub together.”

You laughed and shook your head. “Think Laredo might be missing a few.” “Probably.” Javier laughed and nodded.

“So- Chucho suggested the bar but… didn’t say anything about it?” He shook his head. “Nope.” He chuckled. “Said it’d be a good scene for me to go to.” You hummed and nodded slowly. “Guess he was right.” He added. You felt your cheeks warm up as you looked up at him, chewing on your lip lightly. “Huh?”

“Good scene.” Javier chuckled and shrugged a little. “Minus the whole having to punch a guy.” He hummed. You opened your mouth and tilted your head. “I’m sorry I’m-I’m a little lost now.”

Javier laughed softly. “I went out because I’ve been back for almost a year and I still haven’t talked to anyone- female or otherwise.” “He thinks you’re lonely.” Javier shrugged. “He’s not wrong.” He sighed. “I have been a little lonely.”

You raised a brow. “Really?” He nodded. “Yeah.” He sighed heavily. “My partner at work is… my only friend. As depressing as that sounds.” You blinked rapidly. “Oh… well I know how you feel. I don’t have many friends. Eloise and Chucho, really.” He nodded. “How come?”

You hummed and shrugged a little. “I guess I don’t… like most people honestly.” You laughed softly. “I can be around other people but eventually my social battery just runs out.” “But you’re a bartender.” You nodded. “You’d be surprised how little people actually pay attention to their bartender.” He hummed and nodded like he understood.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

You sat and talked with him for what must’ve been two hours, not leaving until the waitress came around to give you your bill and send you on your way so she could close up and go home. You’d gotten closer in the time you were there, Javier eventually moving to sit next to you on your side of the booth, playing with the ends of your hair or the collar of your shirt as you talked quietly with eachother.

And now, you and Javier were back at your apartment, both agreeing you’d rather finish your night somewhere his dad wouldn’t hear. Eloise had even texted you to say she’d stay the night with her girlfriend Cheyenne rather than going home when the bar closed.

You knew Javier was attracted to you at this point, hell you were just as attracted to him. But that didn’t stop the anxiety you felt building in your stomach as you sat on your couch, gripping a beer bottle tightly in your hands as Javier looked at you, leaned back against your couch. You weren’t ever really insecure about your size, but every once in a while the harsh words would get to you and you’d be left floundering for the confidence that once radiated.

“Come here, Diosa.” He said softly, holding his hand out to you. “You’re so far away. Me siento solo aquí.” I’m lonely over here. You felt your cheeks warm up and hesitated before grabbing his hand and sliding closer to him on the couch. “Are you… sure you-” “don’t be silly.” Javier chuckled softly and leaned forward to set his beer down before grabbing yours and sitting it down also.

“I’m not a little boy, Hermosa.” He turned to you and brought his knee up onto the couch so he could look at you head on. “You’re all woman.” He hummed happily and licked his lips slowly. “And I don’t shy away from a woman like you.” He kissed your cheek lightly, and then your neck. “Just more to love, hold, kiss.” He mumbled softly before bumping his nose against yours. “But if you’re not up to it we don’t have to do anything. Just sit here and talk.”

You looked up into his eyes and blinked rapidly, chewing on your bottom lip before you leaned in and kissed him quickly. He hummed, happily kissing you back as one hand cupped your cheek and the other curled around your back and pulled you closer to him.

It wasn’t long before you were laid back on your bed, looking up at Javier in nothing but your bra and panties as he ran his eyes over you. You felt yourself getting shy again, shifting and moving your hands to cover your stomach. Javier was quick to grab your wrists, though, gently tugging your hands above your head. “Don’t.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your neck before making his way down, stopping briefly to press kisses and slide his tongue along your stretch marks, making you shift and your face and neck heat up.

“Eres hermosa, Diosa, no necesitas cubrirte. Demasiado hermosa para eso.” You are beautiful, Diosa, you don't need to cover yourself. Too beautiful for that. He whispered as he got between your legs, looking up towards you as he slid your panties off. You swallowed thickly and mumbled a shy thank you as he tugged your panties off and tossed them to the side, groaning at the sight of you, wet and pretty and waiting. “Been wondering all night what she looked like- tasted like. Gonna let me taste, Diosa?” He looked up at you again, brown eyes big and pleading and how could you say no to that?

You gave him a rapid nod, shifting as you spread your legs further. “Please.” You whimpered softly, chewing on your lip as he grinned before he was diving down. He started with gentle kisses pressed to your labia before spreading them and pressing a kiss to your clit. Your eyelids fluttered and your head fell back as you moaned softly.

You’d been with quite a few men, but it had been a while so you were feeling a little desperate. When his tongue reached out and slid through you, you gasped and moaned a little louder, tangling your fingers in his hair as he started massaging your clit with his tongue, moaning against you as his eyes closed.

He let go of your labia so they closed around his mouth as he sucked on your clit, one of his hands traveling down to prod lightly at your hole before guiding two of his fingers into you slowly. Your back arched and your grip on his hair tightened as you shuddered and moaned, pressing down on his fingers. “Javi..” you chewed on your lip as he started fucking you steadily with his fingers, his other hand coming up to play with your breast and twist your nipple.

He hummed against you, massaging your clit as he sucked on it, his hips pressing into the mattress as he started moaning. “Joder, qué bien sabes, Diosa. Tomando mis dedos tan bien, también.” Fuck, you taste so good, Diosa. Taking my fingers so well, too. He pulled away to speak, panting heavily as he pushed a third finger into you, licking his lips. You opened your mouth to speak but were cut off with a loud moan when he dove back in, curling his fingers directly into your gspot this time, massaging the bundle of nerves as he continued licking and sucking on your clit.

“Fuck- Javi- Javi please.” You whimpered, tugging on his hair as you looked down at him, lip trembling. Javi hummed against you and pulled away again. “Please what, sweetheart? Hm?” He asked softly, pressing a kiss to your thigh as he continued fucking you with his fingers.

“Necesito que me folles, Javi. Quiero tanto que me folles...” I need you to fuck me, Javi. I want you to fuck me so bad... you begged him, whimpering softly. “Please.”

Javi hummed softly and kissed your cheek gently. “You’re so pretty when you’re begging.” He teased, sliding up to kiss you softly, slipping his tongue into your mouth and letting you taste yourself, which wasn’t something you cared much for in the past, but when it mixed with Javi’s saliva it had you trembling.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

You weren’t sure how long you’d been going at this point, but the sun was coming up and you’d only stopped once for about ten minutes to get water and catch your breath. You didn’t think it was possible for you to cum anymore at this point but you could feel that familiar coil building up again. You’d lost count of how many times you’d cum.

“J-Javi-“ your voice was hoarse, wrecked and scratchy from screaming his name for so long. Now, though, he was pushing into you ever so gently, grinding his hips at the end of every thrust. “What, Diosa? Gonna cum again? Hm?” He purred softly, pressing harder into you. “Can feel it. She’s squeezing me so hard, baby. Just begging me to stay right here so she can drench me so good again.” He nuzzled your neck, his own voice gruff and raw as he moaned.

You were even more surprised with Javier’s ability to cum so much, not nearly as much as you but definitely more than you’d expect a man to be able to do in a matter of hours. As soon as his hand reached down, pressing just enough into your overly sensitive clit to have you screaming his name and cumming hard around him, your legs shaking and tightening around him as your nails dug into his sweaty back.

Javier groaned and started fucking into you more frantically, hands gripping your hips tightly as he groaned and huffed into your neck, offering a few more sloppy thrusts before spilling into the third condom he’s worn since you started, groaning weakly into your neck as his muscles trembled, breathing heavily.

You laid there for a moment, catching your breath before Javier slowly slid out and fell next to you. He panted heavily and slid the condom off, tossing it into your trashcan with the others. “… holy shit.” You whispered softly, swallowing thickly as Javier chuckled and pulled you close.

“We’ll get up soon to clean up and shower. Pretty sure neither of us can walk right now.” “I’d fucking say. How the hell did you do that?” You looked at him wide eyed as he furrowed his brows curiously. “What do you mean?” “Javi- you came like four times- we used three condoms.” Javier shrugged a little. “Happens when you have a sexy ass girl underneath you.”

Your cheeks warmed up and you shook your head shyly as he gripped your ass and kissed your neck. “Take a little nap. I’ll wake you up soon.” He promised. “This is my house.” “Yeah, well, I’m a cop and I’ll arrest you.” “You can’t arrest me for not taking a nap.” “Failure to cooperate with law enforcement is against the law.” You huffed and pushed his face away before laying your head on his chest. “I should thank Chucho when I get home later.” You heard him mumble before the sleep took over your mind, leaving you unable to respond.

You’d have to thank him yourself, maybe bake him some of those cookies he liked so much. And then you’ll shame him for not warning you that his son was that damn charismatic. Or telling you how to contact him sooner.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

I hope you enjoyed this! Been working a lot lately but I was finally able to finish it!

[helloalycia]

the Clarks [three] // alicia clark

summary: now that Nick has finally returned from rehab, you both have to start considering what happens following graduation.

warning/s: mentions of relapsing, drugs and alcoholism.

author's note: it’s a bit late again, my bad! but here’s part 3, hope you like it 🥰

one / two / four / five / masterlist / wattpad

18 years old...

Time had flown so quickly since Nick returned home and, before I knew it, we were counting down the days until graduation. There was only a week left before we'd both be walking onstage to collect our diplomas – something we were both surprised to achieve, but nonetheless grateful.

We were laying on his roof the evening before our last week in school, staring up at the stars and chatting about anything and everything. It was one of those moments you didn't want to end because you were at peace and nothing could change that.

"Are you gonna leave if I pull out some weed?" he asked suddenly, ruining the moment.

I groaned quietly. "Nick..."

He laughed quietly, already pulling out a joint and lighting it. "It's only weed, it won't kill me."

I gave him a disapproving look. He was supposed to be clean, but he'd been using weed on and off for the past few weeks. It was better than much worse drugs out there, but it still worried me in case he got addicted again.

He breathed in before sighing with relief as he got more comfortable, moving one arm behind his head to use as a pillow.

"What do you think you're gonna do after school's finished?" I asked him once it fell quiet again.

"Dunno," he said honestly.

"Haven't you applied for any colleges?"

He snickered, as if I'd said something amusing. "Nope. Mum's been on my back about it, but I don't know if I want that right now. Why force it?"

I hummed in acknowledgement, admiring the few stars dotted in the sky. "You've been through a lot this past year. Maybe you should use this time to focus on yourself for a while."

He put his joint to his lips once more before handing it over to me. "Maybe. What about you?"

I quirked a brow, looking between me and the joint. He tried not to laugh as he waved it in the air.

"C'mon, it won't kill you," he teased.

I sighed, figuring it would be okay to let loose just this once. Accepting the joint, I took a smoke and pulled a face at the taste. I'd had weed before, but only a little, and aside from the momentary high it gave me, I wasn't a huge fan.

"I don't know either," I finally answered his question. "Not properly anyway."

He laughed as he nudged me. "Yeah you do. C'mon. Tell me."

I shrugged. "I'll be working full time at the diner, hopefully only for the year. They said they'd take me on. I'm saving to go to college."

"How wise," he joked, making me smile and roll my eyes.

I smoked some more, letting myself fall into nothing as I embraced the silence, and then Nick and I both turned to the left when we heard a noise on the roof.

"Gee, thanks for the invite." It was Alicia.

Nick groaned lightheartedly. "Go away. I'm trying to hang out with my friend and you're ruining it."

I slapped his arm playfully. "Shut up, Nick. She can join us."

"I was going to anyway," Alicia said before laying down beside me.

Nick grumbled to himself as I chuckled, then I passed her the joint. She gladly accepted, smoking it, before glancing over at me.

"So, what were you talking about?" she asked.

"What Y/N's gonna do after graduation," Nick filled her in.

She hummed, looking back to the sky. "Working, right?"

"Uh-huh," I confirmed.

"If only we could all get straight A's like you, Leashy," Nick teased.

"If you tried, you could, idiot," she retorted, making me chuckle as he scoffed.

The three of us stayed up there for a little while longer, talking nonsense, getting semi-high and preparing ourselves for the last week of school tomorrow. By the time the sky started spinning above me, I knew it was probably time to pack it in for the evening, but before I could say anything, Alicia spoke up from beside me.

"You'll still be around, right?" she asked. "Afterwards?"

It took me a few seconds longer than usual to realise she was talking about after I graduate, and I looked over at her, nodding.

"Of course," I said. "Where else would I go?"

She smiled softly, eyes dilated and half-lidded at the same time, and just like me, she was slightly out of it. It didn't help that I couldn't seem to look away from her, and I wasn't sure if the moment was abnormally long or if I was too high to make sense of it, but I couldn't stop thinking about how pretty she looked. About how much I wanted to kiss her right now. About how I was certain I'd stay by her side as long as I could because she meant so much to me, more than I'd ever let on.

When I found my thoughts drifting, I looked up at the sky again and blinked, suddenly coming out of my weed-induced daze. That was weird, thinking of Alicia like that. She was my best friend's little sister and she thought of me as family. I was being weird. Oh, God.

Massaging my head briefly, I began to sit up. This is why I wasn't a weed person, especially not whilst laying next to the girl I had major feelings for.

"You okay?" Alicia asked, and Nick nudged me with his foot, his way of checking in.

"Yeah, just tired," I half-lied, because it was kind of true. They didn't need to know the rest. "I'm gonna call it a night."

"We all should," Alicia agreed. "Early start tomorrow."

I hummed in agreement, and avoided looking at Alicia for the rest of the evening.

Graduation day finally arrived, and though my mum didn't care enough to see me collect my diploma, I still had the Clarks standing in my corner, making it worthwhile.

The last thing I expected was for Madison and Alicia to throw Nick and I a joint celebratory party at their house after the ceremony. It was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for me – the other nice things also being from them, funnily enough – and I definitely cried. Nick appreciated it too, but he was never a fan of these sorts of things. Either way, I was grateful enough for the both us.

Madison had invited some of the neighbours and Alicia had invited some of her friends to hang out with. It was a small affair, but I didn't have anyone special to me other than them anyway, so I loved it nonetheless.

It was at this party where I finally met Alicia's boyfriend, Matt. He was nice enough when she introduced him and he seemed to treat her the way she deserved. Truthfully, there wasn't a single fault. And yet, I still didn't like him. I knew why, but that didn't matter. My feelings didn't. So, I played nice and avoided them like the plague, as one does.

After conversing with everyone, I took a breather in the corner of the garden where some food was laid out. Nick found me there, revealing that he was heading off.

"So soon?" I asked with confusion "This party is mainly for you, Nick. You can't just leave."

He waved a dismissive hand. "No one will care. Besides, you'll still be here. I'm gonna go hang out with Gloria."

Gloria was his friend from rehab, and though she seemed lovely, the two of them didn't seem to bring out the best in one another. Still, it was clear she was more than a friend to him, so I couldn't comment.

"Why don't you invite her here?" I suggested, before popping some fruit in my mouth. "Everyone seems to be bringing their partners."

He chuckled, giving me a look. "Firstly, Gloria isn't my partner. Secondly, that technically leaves you out. Where's your partner, Y/N?"

"Non existent, arsehole."

"Hopefully not for long," he said between laughter, before hugging me. "See you later."

I sighed as I watched him leave. It was his day too, and if he wanted to celebrate with Gloria, who was I to stop him? My eyes drifted from his retreating figure to the other party guests mingling in the garden, and then they settled on Alicia and Matt, lingering without meaning to. She was giggling at something he said and it left a bitter taste in my mouth.

It was stupid to still like her after all this time, especially when she had a boyfriend, but I truly couldn't help it.

"How's my new graduate doing?" Madison suddenly appeared, earning my attention.

I returned her smile and straightened up. "I'm good, Madison. Thank you again for doing all this. It's wonderful."

"You gotta stop thanking me," she said with amusement, before standing beside me with her drink and looking out at everyone. I wondered what she wanted, but before I could ask, she said, "I got you a little something."

She pulled out an envelope from behind her back and held it out to me.

"Oh, Madison, you really didn't have to. This party is more than enough," I said, attempting to decline, but she shook it for emphasis.

"Stop it, Y/N, just take it."

It didn't feel right to, but it was also rude to decline her sweet gesture, so I reluctantly accepted the envelope and opened it. My jaw immediately dropped when I pulled out a cheque for five thousand dollars, addressed to me.

"It should cover most of your time at community college, right?" she asked innocently, like she didn't know.

"Madison, I..." Five thousand dollars? That was more than I'd saved in the past three years! "I could never take this. I– What the hell?"

"It's yours now," she assured me. "A gift."

I glanced at her, seeing her kindness reflected in her eyes, the same one she offered to me ever since I moved in next door. But this was too much. I couldn't accept it.

Ignoring her, I put the cheque back in the envelope and tried to give it back to her, but she refused, hiding her hands in her pockets.

"Madison–"

"No," she said sternly. "You're like a daughter to me, Y/N. I see a lot of myself in you and I care about like I do my own kids."

I pressed my lips together, unsure how to respond. She never spoke how she felt, so this was a rarity.

"Nick, he... he's lost," she continued, smiling at me dryly. "He doesn't wanna go to college apparently. I'm hoping that'll change, but..." She clicked her tongue. "Alicia is already set. It's always been smooth sailing for her. So, that only leaves you. And I know that your mum, she... well, I don't expect her to have saved for you, and I know you've been saving for yourself, but it'll take too long and I don't want you to miss out. So, I'm giving this to you and I want you to enrol now. For this year. It's not too late."

Tears were making their way to my eyes as I looked at her. "Madison."

"Please," she said gently.

Nobody had ever cared this much for me before, nobody except her. I'd always known she considered me family, but there was playing family and there was actually being family. And nobody just handed somebody five grand unless they meant it. And Madison, especially, wouldn't do something like this unless she meant it.

My mum, my dad... they never cared. Not truly. And though Nick and Alicia would both argue that their mother had no emotions, I'd always think the opposite. This woman stood before me was the most sensitive person I knew.

Unable to answer with words, I nodded slowly before pulling her in for a hug so tight that I was certain I couldn't let go. She rubbed my back comfortingly before we both pulled away and I looked down at the envelope once more.

"I'm gonna pay you back," I promised, to which she instantly shook her head.

"No way. It's not a loan, Y/N, it's a gift."

I breathed out slowly, laughing to disguise from my embarrassment at crying with happiness. She may have gifted it to me, but I knew I'd pay her back one day anyway. For everything.

"I'm so so proud of you, sweetie," she said, resting a hand on my shoulder and making me look at her again. "You're gonna do amazing things one day and I can't wait."

More tears rolled down my cheeks and I felt an overwhelming happiness flood through me. I wasn't sure what I'd done to deserve this, but I was glad for it.

"Y/N, hon, can you go get Matt and Alicia? Dinner's ready," Madison called to me in the living room.

I glanced back at her from the couch. "Sure thing."

I would have much preferred not to, but I also knew I needed to get over myself about this whole Alicia thing, so I forced myself off the couch and headed upstairs to Alicia's room. Her door was almost closed, slightly ajar as per Madison's rule whenever Matt visited. I was about to enter, but I paused when I heard them talking in quiet voices.

"I just can't wait to leave already," Alicia was saying, which is what earned my attention because she sounded a little fed up. "Get as far away from them as I can."

"Not too far, I hope," Matt joked.

"Not too far, of course," Alicia agreed, before they both sighed in unison, and I cringed, knowing they'd probably just kissed.

I was going to stop lurking and just walk in, but I couldn't help but overhear as she continued. And I knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but I had an instinct to just listen.

"I'm just tired," Alicia continued. "Looking after Nick, being mum's second priority, dealing with Travis..."

Travis was Madison's boyfriend, a recent part of the Clarks lives, and a better one, in my opinion, but of course Nick and Alicia didn't see it that way because their father's death was still fresh for them. Travis was a teacher at school, which is how Madison and him had met, so Alicia probably saw him more often than she wanted to.

"It's just easier to look after myself," Alicia finished. "I basically have been anyway."

"And what about Y/N?" Matt asked curiously.

"What about her?"

"You wanna get away from her too?"

I held my breath as I awaited her response, the second of silence killing me.

"Of course not," she said matter-of-factly, which had me relieved for a moment before she unfortunately continued, "but she won't leave here. And I can't hang around."

Definitely not expecting that, I frowned and stepped back instinctively, but I must have made a sound as Alicia called out loudly.

"Is someone there?"

Flushing with embarrassment, I cleared my throat and pushed the door open, poking my head in, but I couldn't for the life of me meet any of their eyes. "Madison said dinner's ready."

"Oh, okay," she answered awkwardly.

"Matt, you can stay too," I added uncomfortably.

"Actually, I should head back," he answered, "but thanks for the offer."

I nodded and turned to leave, heading back downstairs and forcing myself to ignore everything I'd just heard. It wasn't my business anyway, and I shouldn't have been eavesdropping. It had just taken me by surprise is all, as Alicia had never expressed thoughts of leaving as strongly as she had just then.

When the Clarks and I sat together eating dinner, I felt Alicia's eyes burning holes into the side of my head, but I refused to meet her gaze. I still felt odd and I couldn't stop thinking about her words. Were her family that bad that she wanted to leave so quickly after graduation? Was I?

After dinner, once I'd helped Madison clear the table, I was on my way to get my jacket when Alicia suddenly pulled me to the side, out of sight from everyone else as we were alone in the living room.

"You heard me talking to Matt, didn't you?" she blurted out in a hushed voice.

I blinked, looking down at her hand which was still gripping my arm. She let go once she realised, and I played dumb.

"No, I didn't."

She narrowed her eyes, studying me carefully as if debating whether to push it. Finally, she rolled her eyes and turned to leave, but I couldn't seem to just let it go.

"Are you really just going to leave?" I asked calmly. "Go as far away as you can?"

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You don't get it."

"Then explain," I said with confusion. "Because it sounds like you're counting down the days until you get your diploma, then you're off."

She met my eyes, giving me a look. "It's not like that. But yes, I've been applying to colleges far from here."

I frowned, a little hurt that she'd never told me any of this before and that I'd found out the way I had. "Well, at least I know you'll get in, right? You're not dumb."

Her expression softened and she tried to touch me, but I backed up. "Y/N."

"You don't know how grateful you are, do you?" I said, a little sterner than I intended, but it was the only way I knew. "Your family. They're a little dysfunctional, sure, but they care. And the way you talk about them, like they're such a burden–"

"They are!" she snapped in a low voice, surprising me. "Nick is back on drugs, and who has to be there when he's coming back down? Me! I babysit him like he's the younger brother. And mum, she's always at his beck and call, but me? She couldn't care less!"

I scrunched my eyebrows together in shock. "Alicia, that's not true–"

"It is!" she exclaimed angrily. "You wouldn't know."

Her anger was contagious and I scoffed, shaking my head. "So, what? They're all a burden because they need you? Makes me wonder what you think of me."

"That's not fair," she said in a low voice.

"Isn't it? I won't leave here. Isn't that what you said?"

She opened her mouth, eyebrows raising with disbelief. "That's because it's true! You won't! This is your chance to get out, make a life away from this one, but you stay!"

"I won't, or I can't?" I answered, glaring at her with teary eyes. "In case you've forgotten, I have fucking nobody! No money, no family, nothing! I don't even have a freakin' car! Where the hell would I go? I'm only at fucking college because your mum felt sorry for me and gave me the money! So, of course I won't just leave. I can't!"

She'd never hinted she felt this way before and it was horrifying. Had I overstayed my welcome? I was technically an adult now, but I never thought... maybe I had pushed my luck. Either way, there was a way to tell me and this wasn't it. And now I felt humiliated, burning with anger and hurt and it was so much worse because it was coming from Alicia.

"Wait...," she murmured, eyes roaming my face as her expression softened and the reality of the conversation hit her. "Just wait. Y/N, I didn't mean it like that. I shouldn't have said that."

She attempted to touch my face, but I moved away and wiped the tears from my cheeks.

"It doesn't matter," I said, tired. "Forget it. Just– forget it."

"No, just– Y/N, wait, please, I'm sorry–"

Walking past her, I grabbed my jacket and didn't bother to stay any longer or hear her out. Clearly, I wasn't wanted.

The next day, I was sat on campus eating lunch after class. It was supposed to be a well-needed moment of quiet in one of my favourite places – next to a park where some ducks always came out near the water and made for a lovely sight. I wasn't able to focus in class after everything that went on last night, so I thought a lunch alone in my favourite spot would help, but it was just my luck that I couldn't even have that.

A familiar figure began to approach the picnic bench I was sat on, not even giving me chance to open my sandwich.

"Hey," Alicia said when she stopped before the bench, looking nervous.

I sighed, dropping my sandwich. "How did you find me?"

She waved her phone in the air. "Find My iPhone."

I was seriously regretted enabling that function, but we'd all agreed to do so after we couldn't find Nick that one time when he went on a night out. Now, I just wanted to be alone.

"I want to apologise and I couldn't wait any longer," she said softly.

"Forgive and forget," I said dismissively, picking up my sandwich again. "You can go now."

"No," she said stubbornly, before taking a seat opposite me. "Y/N, I'm so fucking sorry. I never meant to say what I did. I didn't mean it like that at all. You were right. I have more than most and I took advantage of it. I guess I just wanted to start fresh."

"Yeah, without everyone," I reminded her, looking between her eyes. "Without your family. Without–"

"Not without you," she stated with an apologetic look. "Never without you."

I wanted to believe her – she'd never lied to me before, but after everything she'd said... there had to be some truth to it.

"I applied for colleges here too," she shared, resting her hand on mine on the table. "I don't know where I'm going or what I'm doing, but I'm not trying to run away. You're all my family. I love you."

I swallowed hard, looking down. "Maybe I don't get it. Not fully. But I just thought–" I paused, not even sure what I was trying to say. "I don't know."

She squeezed my hand gently, earning my attention. "The best thing that could have happened to me is us taking you in as one of our own. The last thing I wanted was to make you feel any less."

I sighed, hating how much I cared about what she thought of me. About what all of the Clarks did. But they were all I had.

"I'm so sorry," she repeated. "I never meant to upset you and I've been kicking myself since I said what I did."

I nodded slightly, resting my other hand on hers in reciprocation. "It's okay. I get it. Your situation is tough and you had to grow up a lot faster because of Nick... I've tried to help ease that burden for you, but Nick can get out of control sometimes, I know."

"I appreciate it," she said, but I wasn't looking for acknowledgement, I just wanted her to be okay.

"I'm sorry, too," I told her. "The whole making your problems seem smaller thing wasn't cool."

"Thank you," she said with a nod of acceptance.

"Wherever you choose to go to college, I'll still be here for you," I promised her. "Whether it's Timbuktu or around the corner."

She cracked a small smile, bringing a light to her eyes that I'd missed. "I know."

"Ideally not Timbuktu though," I added lightheartedly. "Flights would be a little pricey."

A quiet chuckle flew from her lips as she nodded. "Noted." Her smile reminded as she met my eyes hopefully. "I have a free period. Wanna eat lunch together?"

I returned her smile. "I'd like that."

19 years old...

Nick's MIA. Is he with you?

I read Madison's message with furrowed brows, both confused and worried for my best friend. It was the third time this month he'd gone rogue, worrying his whole family.

Attempting to call Madison, I cursed when she wouldn't pick up then dropped her a text to let her know he wasn't but that I'd update her if anything changed. Then, when I finally finished my morning classes, I gave Alicia a call as I waited for the bus.

"Y/N, what's up?" she answered straight away.

"Your mum just said Nick's missing again," I said, but before I could finish, Alicia was already speaking.

"He's been found," she assured me, though she sounded understandably pissed off. "They brought him into the hospital this morning. Idiot got hit by a car. No surprises what he was up to."

I chewed on my lower lip, worried. "Is he okay?"

I could imagine her eye roll as she said, "Considering he didn't get arrested, I'd say he was great." She paused, then her frustration left her tone as she said, "I've got class, Y/N. Can we talk later?"

"Of course," I said, feeling bad for her because this sort of thing had been happening a lot more than usual lately. "Sorry. See you later, Leashy."

"See you later."

I wanted to check on Nick, but he was in hospital overnight and when Madison offered to let me join her, Alicia and Travis to visit him in the morning, I couldn't afford to miss class. I almost did, but Madison assured me it was okay and he'd be fine, so I promised I'd visit later that afternoon. Only, when I tried to arrange it with Madison, they revealed he'd escaped the hospital without telling anyone.

Naturally, I was worried out of my mind, but Madison and Travis promised they were searching for him, so I shouldn't worry about it. Easier said than done, of course.

That same day, after class, I tried ringing Madison to see if there were any updates about Nick's whereabouts, but there was no answer.

By the time I'd stopped by to grab some lunch and headed home, I went straight for the Clarks house to check in. I was surprised to find Madison at home.

"Y/N, you're here," Madison said when she answered the door, immediately pulling me in for a hug. "I was just about to call."

Confused, I returned the hug. "Er, yeah... I just wanted to see if there was any news with Nick."

At this, she pulled me inside the house and that's when I saw the idiot himself stood in the living room. Relieved at the sight of him, but also concerned because of some bruises covering his face, I pulled him in for a hug.

"You fucking idiot," I muttered.

He hugged me tight, about to say something, but Madison spoke up instead.

"Alicia's calling... Y/N, can you just– can you watch him for a sec?"

"Sure," I said, still confused with why she was panicked. "Everything okay?"

It wasn't hard to miss the deadly stare she shot her son, who looked like he had a million and one things to say.

"What's wrong?" I asked him when I saw his ghastly expression and inability to stand still.

He simply shook his head, saying nothing, but he looked anxious. Madison left two of us alone, heading into the kitchen.

"You can be such an idiot sometimes," I scolded him once she was gone. "Using again? Getting hit by a car? Are you insane, Nick?"

He wasn't listening to a word I was saying as he took a seat on the couch, knees bouncing up and down with impatience. I rolled my eyes, knowing how this would go since he hadn't listened to me for a long time now.

"...no, Alicia, don't touch him!" Madison was saying, on a phone call but loud enough for us to hear.

She returned not long later, looking stressed out and as anxious as Nick did. Was I missing something?

"What's up? Is everything okay?" I asked her supportively. "Is Alicia okay?"

She brushed her hair from her eyes. "She's with Matt. He's sick."

"Yeah, a load of people were off sick today in class," I realised, before shrugging. "Maybe there's a bug going around."

Madison wasn't satisfied with that answer though, as she went to grab her car keys. "I'm gonna pick her up. I don't want her getting sick, too."

"I can get her her if you want," I offered, but she shook her head and glanced at Nick, who was sweating profusely.

"No. You stay with Nick. I won't be long."

Not really getting much of a choice, I nodded and watched her leave. Nick didn't reveal much, even when Madison left, but he seemed troubled by something and no amount of coaxing from me would help. He was suffering from withdrawals, just over twenty-four hours passing since he'd taken anything, and the symptoms were making themselves known.

After what felt like forever, Madison returned with an irritated Alicia in tow. Though, as soon as she saw me with Nick, her irritation disappeared.

"He's not doing too well, Madison," I told the blonde, kneeling beside a shivering Nick.

"I'm gonna get him his prescription," Madison assured me, before looking between Alicia and I. "You girls look after him. Travis will be here soon with Liza and Chris, so keep an eye out."

Alicia and I exchanged confused looks. Why was Travis bringing his ex-wife and son back here? And what was Madison so worried about, apart from Nick?

"You're gonna make me stay here and look after this idiot when Matt needs my help?" Alicia asked her mum.

"Alicia, don't argue this," Madison said knowingly. "Stay put, okay?"

She didn't wait for a response as the door slammed behind her when she left. I sighed, using a damp cloth to cool Nick's forehead. Meanwhile, Alicia threw her backpack on the floor before looking to me.

"Can you watch him? I wanna check on Matt," she said.

"I–"

"No," Nick groaned, pushing me away as he struggled to sit up. "Mum said you have to stay."

Alicia rolled her eyes. "You've got Y/N."

"Is he okay?" I asked her, noticing her worry behind her mean girl facade.

"He's sick," she said with a frown. "Didn't show for our date in the park and that's why I went to check on him. His parents are out of town, Y/N, I can't just leave him."

The last thing I wanted to do was go against Madison's request, but I truly didn't see the harm in her checking on him.

"Okay, fine," I gave in with a nod. "Go. I'll watch Nick."

She smiled appreciatively before making her way to the door, but Nick didn't seem to like this as he forced himself to stand up.

"Alicia, no!" he shouted after her, making her roll her eyes. "You can't, Alicia, it's not safe!"

"Nick, sit down!" I shouted at him when he leaned against the couch for support. "Nick– Nick!"

I screamed his name when he fell to floor suddenly, convulsing, and Alicia was by my side in an instant, helping me help him.

Alicia and I sat on the two armchairs, exhausted and nervous as we watched Nick laying on the couch, sleeping. Madison still wasn't back with his meds and, considering we'd almost watched him choke to death on his own vomit, we were pretty impatient for her return.

"You okay?" I checked in with Alicia.

Her green eyes flickered from Nick to me. "No. You?"

I sighed, shaking my head. "You thinking about Matt?"

She nodded weakly.

"I'm sure he's fine," I tried to put her at ease. "Have you tried calling him? Maybe his parents are back."

"He won't answer," she said monotonously.

I frowned, unsure what else to recommend. Thankfully, keys were rattling at the front door and in walked Madison with Nick's meds.

"I've got it," Alicia said, grabbing the bag and attempting to wake up Nick.

"Y/N, have you checked on your mum?" Madison asked randomly.

I quirked a brow. "Er, no. Am I supposed to?"

She glanced out the window uneasily. "There's a lot going on out there. Just do it, hon."

Already knowing I'd regret it, I gave my mum a ring there and then, to which she picked up after a few rings.

"Mum? It's Y/N," I said, in case she happened to be too drunk to read her caller ID. And woo-hoo, guess who was right?

"Y/N?" she asked with confusion, before exclaiming with realisation, "Y/N! What do you want?"

Unsurprised at this point, I said, "Where are you? Are you coming home?"

She laughed, though it was hard to make out because of the sound a man talking nearby, giving me the creeps. "I'll be on my way soon. Don't wait up."

I rolled my eyes. "Right. See you later."

Once I hung up, I realised Madison was still waiting to hear an update.

"She's drunk," I told her the usual. "But she's gonna be back soon."

She nodded distractedly, before saying, "When she comes home, you need to check if she's sick. And if she is, you shouldn't touch her."

"Mum," Alicia said disapprovingly, before I could even think to speak. "Not now."

I shook my head with confusion, looking back to Madison. "What?"

"This sickness, it's spreading," she said with concern. "I don't want you getting sick, too. Just promise me you'll check, okay?"

Alicia scoffed, unimpressed at her mum's ignorance.

"I promise," I told her. "Besides, she'd have to actually make it home first..."

[covid-safer-hotties]

Living with Long COVID: What it’s Like to be Diagnosed with the Debilitating Disease - Published Sept 3, 2024

By: Nicole Pajer

Even mild cases of COVID-19 are linked to potential long-term repercussions — some of them deadly serious

Chrissy Bernal has caught COVID-19 three times, most recently in ­October 2023. “My symptoms were always pretty mild,” she says. But after her third round of the virus, she ­developed extreme allergies to foods she used to eat all the time: oats, dairy, gluten, sesame seeds and peanuts.

“I literally have some level of anaphylaxis every single day,” she says. In May, Bernal, 46, a public relations professional in Houston, went into anaphylactic shock during a virtual meeting. “I had to inject myself with an Epi while everyone watched in horror on Zoom,” she says.

Natalie Nichols, 53, has been struggling with debilitating asthma and severe food allergies since she first caught COVID more than three years ago. “Last fall, I spent ­two-and-a-half months confined to bed, ­motionless, because moving, including holding a cellphone, made me too short of breath,” she says.

She’s also experienced brain fog, high blood pressure, hyper­glycemia, fatigue and gastrointestinal symptoms. Nichols, the founder of a nonprofit in Nacogdoches, Texas, recently underwent surgery to repair joint damage caused by COVID-induced inflammation.

Lorraine W., of Clarence Center, New York, was looking forward to an active retirement when she was diagnosed with COVID in March 2020. “I’ve never returned to my pre-COVID self,” says Lorraine, 65.

She’s on medication to treat small blood vessel damage to her heart and continues to battle a lingering cough, fatigue and breathlessness, as well as kidney disease. Neurological changes have made her legs unsteady when she walks, requiring her to use balance poles. “None of these conditions were present before COVID,” Lorraine says.

In June, the National Academies of ­Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine released a comprehensive definition of long COVID: “an infection-­associated chronic condition that occurs after COVID-19 infection and is present for at least three months as a continuous, relapsing and remitting, or progressive disease state that affects one or more organ systems.” According to that definition, 18 million Americans have experienced long COVID; currently, more than 1 in 20 of us are living with its symptoms. Researchers have begun to link long-term COVID with another recent phenomenon: our shrinking life expectancy.

The disease we’re forgetting COVID doesn’t seem that scary anymore. More than 98 percent of the U.S. population has some degree of immunity — from vaccination, prior infection or both — and Paxlovid and other medications are available to counteract acute symptoms. For many of us, contracting COVID is like having a bad ­upper respiratory infection.

But “COVID isn’t gone,” says Ryan Hurt, M.D., director of the Long COVID Research and Clinical Program at the Mayo Clinic. The World Health Organization (WHO) estimates that COVID still kills at least 1,000 people every week around the globe — but “we only have data from about 40 countries,” says Maria Van Kerkhove, M.D., director of WHO’s Department of Epidemic and Pandemic Preparedness and Prevention.

Older adults and those with preexisting conditions remain among the most at-risk populations for severe, acute COVID. ­People 65 and older accounted for 63 percent of COVID-related hospitalizations and 88 percent of in-hospital deaths during the first seven months of 2023, according to CDC data.

Although the dangers of acute COVID ­infection may have ebbed for many, the ­reality of long COVID is coming into view. Of those who contracted COVID-19 within the past four years, 10 to 20 percent have experienced long COVID.

“With every new case of acute COVID [the initial phase of infection when diagnosed or symptoms first appear], there is risk for developing long COVID,” says Caitlin McAuley, D.O., a family physician at the Keck COVID Recovery Clinic in Los Angeles. She’s had patients who developed long COVID fully recover, get reinfected several times with no lingering effects, then develop another case that leads to a new bout of long COVID. She’s also seen patients who got COVID twice with no lingering effects, and the third time they ended up with prolonged symptoms.

“We still have a number of individuals who had the first wave of COVID who are suffering from long COVID symptoms now, several of them many years out,” says Jerrold Kaplan, M.D., medical director of the COVID Rehabilitation and Recovery Program at Gaylord Specialty Healthcare in New York.

Having escaped long COVID previously doesn’t mean you won’t face it in the future. Indeed, some research has suggested that catching multiple COVID-19 strains puts you at increased risk. A study published in 2022 found that reinfection can increase the risk of complications in major organ systems, and these risks persist at least six months beyond the initial infection.

We don’t yet know the true impact of catching COVID. “Many chronic disease processes, such as cardiovascular disease, dementia and cancer, take years to develop. And whether acute COVID-19 puts people at risk for some of these issues? Time will tell,” Hurt says. What doctors do know is that patients are flocking to their offices complaining of symptoms they never had before COVID.

Is long COVID boosting our death rate? In July, COVID accounted for less than 1 ­percent of all deaths in the U.S. Life expectancy in the U.S. is 77.5 years, reflecting an uptick over the past two years but still lower than prepandemic levels. Many factors contribute to that statistic, but it’s clear that the long-term effects of COVID have played a role.

For example, a study in the journal Nature Medicine found that those hospitalized with COVID had a 29 percent greater risk of death in the three years after their infection.

“But what was also alarming is that in people who weren’t hospitalized, there was also an increased risk of a variety of medical issues,” says John Baratta, founder and codirector of the COVID Recovery Clinic at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Even patients who’d had mild bouts of COVID-19 had an increased risk of respiratory, cardiovascular, metabolic and neurological issues lingering for three years after the initial infection. Long COVID patients had a significantly increased risk of severe health issues affecting the brain, lungs and heart.

We have long known that an acute case of COVID can compromise heart health: Compared with those who didn’t contract COVID, people who caught the virus were 81 percent more likely to die of a cardiovascular complication in the ensuing three weeks, according to a study of 160,000 patients published by the European Society of Cardiology. But the risk lingers long after the symptoms abate. Those who caught the virus were five times more likely to die from cardiovascular disease as long as 18 months after infection, the same study found. Heart disease deaths, which had been on a downward trend for decades, began to spike in 2020 and remained high through 2022, the last year for which data is available.

Stroke, blood clots in the legs leading to clots in the lungs, abnormal heart rhythm (arrhythmia) and inflammation of the heart are among the challenges COVID poses, says Mohanakrishnan Sathyamoorthy, M.D., professor and chair of internal medicine at the Burnett School of Medicine in Fort Worth, Texas. In long COVID, this collection of cardiovascular disruptions can present as postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (POTS), in which patients’ heart rates increase abnormally when they go from sitting or ­lying down to standing up.

One theory to explain COVID’s long-term effect on the heart — and the body in general — centers on inflammation. “Every time you get infected with COVID, there is a possible increased risk of long COVID, and some cardiac disorders can occur — especially if you have a history of heart disease, including stroke, heart disease and heart attacks,” says Pragna Patel, M.D., senior adviser for long COVID at the CDC. All of these problems can be exacerbated by the virus entering coronary tissue and triggering inflammatory responses that can damage the heart.

Researchers say COVID may also alter the gut microbiome, a primary controller of inflammation, thereby triggering the immune system to rev up the condition. “There is no single agreed-upon mechanism that’s causing the issues,” Baratta says. “An individual may have multiple factors going on in their body, and not everyone will have the same underlying mechanism causing their symptoms,” which increases the complexity of both research and treatment.

One factor that seems to matter: vaccination status. “Several studies show that vaccination can decrease the risk of developing long COVID,” Patel says. Vaccination rates tend to increase with age, with people 75 and older being the most well vaccinated — hence the most well protected from long COVID, Patel theorizes. That may explain why long COVID most commonly affects people ages 35 to 64; the risk seems to drop for those 65-plus, according to CDC data.

From long covid diagnosis to treatment No single test can determine whether a ­person has long COVID. Doctors typically diagnose long COVID by reviewing the ­patient’s health history and current symptoms and trying to rule out other causes. A positive COVID test is not required, as someone could have been infected without knowing it, then experience strange symptoms later, Patel says.

Though there are many ongoing clinical trials on long COVID, there is no umbrella treatment. Primary care physicians address what they can, then call in specialists — such as a cardiologist to handle arrhythmia or a therapist to treat anxiety — for more targeted care. There are long COVID centers around the country where teams of professionals work to help patients through their unique symptoms.

“Because the effects of COVID are so wide throughout the body and mind, there will not be a single treatment for all long COVID issues,” Baratta says. “This is ­going to be treated by many different types of providers and specialists, and it will be treated, often, symptom by symptom.”

Long COVID is recognized as a disability under the Americans with Disabilities Act if it substantially limits one or more major life activities. About 200 symptoms fall ­under that umbrella, Patel says. Here are some of the conditions we’re learning can linger months and, in some cases, years beyond an acute COVID infection. If these or other health changes seem familiar, consult your primary care physician.

1. Extreme fatigue It’s common to experience fatigue when your body is busy fighting off an illness. But some people still struggle with fatigue long after their initial COVID infection. In fact, a lack of energy is the number one symptom reported by long COVID patients. In some, this can be diagnosed as chronic fatigue syndrome, which has been on the rise since the start of the pandemic, Baratta says. He defines this as “a disabling level of fatigue that severely limits daily activities.”

This lingering fatigue may be due to limited production of energy within the muscles caused by damage to the mitochondria from a COVID infection. It can happen to anyone — no matter their level of fitness before infection. “I’ve treated patients who have been triathletes and now may only be able to do 15 or 20 minutes of exercise a day, when they’re used to running and swimming miles at a time,” Kaplan says.

He recommends starting slow and pacing yourself with everything you do around the house, “doing shorter intervals several times throughout the day, rather than trying to do everything at once.” Whether it gets better depends on the individual. Some people’s symptoms clear, and some people may battle them indefinitely.

2. Shortness of breath An analysis of chest CT scans from 144 patients ages 27 to 80 found that more than one-third of people hospitalized with a previous COVID infection had lung scarring and thickening two years after coming into contact with the virus. Even patients with milder cases who walked away without scarring can experience changes in their breathing.

“Some research shows that people ­after COVID start to take shorter, shallower breaths,” Baratta says. “This essentially causes a type of hyperventilation they are doing without even recognizing it, not getting good fresh air deep into the lungs, and [this] can lead to shortness of breath.” ​

Doctors have found success using respiratory exercises to help patients relearn slow, deep breathing.

3. Cognitive changes Difficulty concentrating, spaciness and forgetfulness are just a few of the brain challenges COVID can bring on. These can last for weeks or months or — in some with long COVID — become an everyday occurrence that lasts indefinitely. COVID may linger in a person’s gut long after an infection, altering their microbiome and hindering the body’s ability to produce serotonin, leading to cognitive disturbances.

COVID may also disrupt the blood-brain barrier, allowing chemicals or molecules in the rest of the body to enter the brain blood circulation and potentially lead to brain fog, Baratta says.

One study found that 30 days after testing positive for COVID-19, people were at greater risk for cognitive decline, as well as for mental health disorders including anxiety, depression and stress. Another study found inflammation in the brains of people with mild to moderate COVID-19 was similar to the effects of seven years of aging. Doctors are leading neurologically affected patients through cognitive rehabilitation exercises that show promise in reducing symptoms.

4. Depression and anxiety “Mood-related disorders are one of the top five issues that happen to people after COVID,” Baratta says. There may be a direct relationship between the virus’s effect on the brain and mood issues. A 2021 review of eight studies found that 12 weeks after a COVID infection, 11 to 28 ­percent of people had depression symptoms, and 3 to 12 percent of those individuals reported their symptoms as severe. If you’re feeling more stressed or down after catching COVID, tell your primary care physician, who can refer you to a therapist. Or visit the American Psychological Association’s search tool at locator.apa.org to find a qualified therapist in your area.

5. Sleep disturbances Nearly 40 percent of people with long COVID have reported major changes to their sleep patterns. One study looked at 1,056 COVID-19 patients who did not have a severe enough infection to require hospitalization. Of that population, 76.1 percent reported having insomnia and 22.8 percent severe insomnia. Sleep ­apnea may also appear post-COVID, another way the disease affects the respiratory system.

Talk to your doctor if you’re having sleep issues. A CPAP (continuous positive airway pressure) machine can help with sleep ­apnea. Lifestyle habits that prioritize healthy sleep, such as keeping consistent sleep and wake times and avoiding large meals before bed, may also help. “Post-COVID sleep has literally been a nightmare! We saw a 23 percent increase in sleeping-pill prescription during and post-COVID,” says Michael Breus, a clinical psychologist and clinical sleep specialist in Los Angeles.

6. Digestive upset Diarrhea, constipation, abdominal pain, bloating and gas: These symptoms of irritable bowel syndrome can be by-products of an encounter with COVID. A survey of 729 COVID survivors found that 29 percent experienced at least one new chronic GI symptom six months after their infection. “There is evidence that parts of the COVID virus linger in the GI tract for many months after the initial illness, and it’s been suggested that the presence of these ongoing viral fragments causes dysfunction or problems with the GI tract, leading to mostly symptoms of diarrhea and gastric distress and discomfort,” Baratta says.

Talk to your doctor about any new digestive symptoms or seek help from a gastro­enterologist. You can keep a food journal and note if your condition flares after eating certain foods. Try cutting out those foods, then reintroducing them one by one to see what you react to, Kaplan advises.

7. New or worsened allergies Some people who develop COVID experience allergies they never had before. One study found the risk of ­developing allergic diseases, such as asthma and allergic rhinitis, rose significantly within the first 30 days after a COVID diagnosis. This may be because one’s immune system stays hypervigilant after fighting the virus, McAuley says.

In severe cases, like Chrissy Bernal’s, this can lead to mast cell activation syndrome (MCAS), a disease that can behave like a series of severe allergies: The body’s cells become hypersensitive, causing strong ­reactions to everything from food and pollen to even a hot shower or exercise. Antihistamines and other medications may help, so talk to your doctor if you experience skin itching, a rapid pulse, wheezing or gastro­intestinal symptoms.

8. Pain Some COVID survivors battle chronic pain, everything from aching joints to testicular pain. There is a higher risk of inflammatory arthritis, and women are at higher risk than men. One review of studies estimated that 10 percent of people who contracted COVID experienced musculo­skeletal pain at some point during the first year after infection.

Reducing stress, eating a healthy diet and exercising may ease some post-COVID ­discomfort. Massage therapy, movement therapy, acupuncture and over-the-counter pain medications may also offer relief. Your doctor can refer you to a specialist, such as a rheumatologist, who can help manage symptoms including joint pain.

Fast-moving research means new hope If your symptoms last after a bout of COVID, start with your primary care physician, who can help treat your symptoms or refer you to a specialist. Despite previous dismissals, long COVID is more recognized these days, Patel says, and the CDC is doing its part to educate both patients and providers. And initiatives such as the National Institutes of Health’s Recover program are researching treatment options.

“In a year, things will look different, because research is moving so quickly,” says Sara F. Martin, M.D., medical director of the Adult Post-Acute COVID Clinic at Vanderbilt University Medical Center. The CDC, for instance, is funding a series of clinical trials that the NIH has in the works. This new information, Martin says, may guide doctors, including herself, who treat long COVID ­patients to better ease their symptoms.

[walder-138]

Questions for Annika, Jack, & Oswald:

What's this oc's biggest fear?

What's this oc's mental health state?

What's your favorite thing about this oc?

How does this oc feel about physical affection?

How does this oc get along with people they just met?

VICE!!!!! WHADDUP GIRL!!!! TYSM FOR THE ASK!!!!!

1) What’s this oc’s biggest fear?

Annika: People. Not in a social anxiety typa way (scared of judgement etc), but of what they are capable of. Annika has been exposed to human cruelty from a young age, growing up as a child soldier in a terrorist organization convinced her that every single person around her wanted to hurt her.

Over the years, her fear manifested into hate for humanity. It was never real hate, but ‘hate’ was the only label she could put on it without feeling like a coward. Fear is weak, Anya. Fear is weak. Hate and anger protected her; who wants to pet a rabid dog?

Jack: His scientific ‘research’ being exposed to the public. Jack is incapable of fear or anxiety; he’s a textbook sociopath, but he really doesn’t wanna stop performing his research and experiments (he worked on MK Ultra since he became a doctor) Seeing it flourish due to his involvement has been his greatest achievement, that being taken away from him would tear him apart.

Oz: Losing his daughter, Jenny. I’ve said this before and I’ll say this again; she’s the reason why he got off drugs following Vietnam and stopped being a verbally abusive misogynist to almost every single woman in his life. Oz knows that if he lost her, he’d most likely have a pretty bad relapse and fall back into his old bad habits.

2) What’s this OC’s mental health state?

Annika: Take a wild guess.

Jack: He’s balling honestly 😭 With everything that happened with Bell being a complete success, (assuming Annika isn’t Bell; she detonates the nukes) he basically saw his top project take off. Sure, the dumbasses in the safehouse didn’t listen to him about keeping Bell under that trance or whatever, but he can always start again; make another one.

Bro’s walking on sunshine!

In reality, Jack can’t feel anything. All of his emotions are fabricated. There could be a spark; of hope, or pity, or amusement, or some kinda love, but it’s never enough. He’s almost completely numb. He hates it sometimes, but Jack can’t miss what he’s never had.

Now about the state of his actual brain… uh ask Abbey about that. She fed him the curb

Oz: Shitty. He is constantly haunted by visions from his past. He can barely sleep at night without seeing his men -his sons- dead around him. The heroin, the morphine, and the LSD were the only things keeping him from having to see their mangled bodies scattered every time he blinked. Rehab helped him get over his addiction, but he hated talking to those damn prissy ass shrinks. But now that Jenny’s around, he can’t be high all the damn time, so Oz has to deal with it without any assistance from anyone but his ex.

He’s stressed, and he thinks he can’t do it anymore, but he wakes up every morning and does.

3) What’s your favorite thing about this OC?

Annika: How far her development’s come along. I based her off me when I play video games (I rage a lot 😭) and had to think about how, realistically, someone with an erratic fighting style would come to develop it. Since I die a lot, I figured Annika wouldn’t have any formal military training except by the terrorist organization she was raised in. I really wanted to make her a reflection of my video game playing style, and I’m happy to say that she does. Just with more depth now.

Jack: He’s not far along in his development process, so this will most likely change but so far, it’s how two-faced he is. When you talk to Jack, he genuinely seems like a nice guy that you’d wanna crack a couple cold ones with on a nice, hot day, while all of his ‘patients’ are horrified of him. Dudebro’s the reason Abbey doesn’t like British people 😭

Oz: I’ve got two things. How real he is. I’ll admit; a lot of my ocs are over exaggerated, but at least in my opinion, he’s the most realistic. I’ve made a post going slightly more into depth about this a while back. The other thing is that Oz is somehow my 2nd most morally stable character after all the shit he’s done 😭😭😭

4) What does this OC feel about physical affection?

Annika: She yearns for it. Annika’s never felt the loving touch of any individual that wouldn’t later be used to hurt her. Now, I’m not saying it’s a smart idea to abruptly give her a hug, unless you wanna pull back a bloody stump or you’re her girlfriend, as that scares her, tying back to her fear of people.

Jack: He doesn’t particularly care for it one way or another. Jack might tuck someone’s hair behind their ears if he’s being patronizing, or pat them on the shoulder to reassure them, he doesn’t really get anything from it. He won’t provide any physical contact if it doesn’t benefit him, unless it’s with his partner. Everyone else, even Jack’s own kids, can go to hell.

Oz: Oz is touched starved. At this point, he’d take any form of physical contact from anyone. The problem is, he doesn’t feel like he deserves it, so he recoils from it at every opportunity it’s shown. He says it’s unmanly, but if a woman even patted him on the cheek, bro’s getting a bit excited 🤭

5) How does this OC get along with people they just met?

Annika: Not well. Annika already hates the people she actually knows, introducing her to a person she doesn’t know will ensure hostility. Unless you’re going on a mission with her, she doesn’t want to know anything about you. She doesn’t want to know what you think about the weather. Her life wouldn’t be impacted if you lived or died, and she wants you to know it 😭If she can, Annika would just walk away after the initial greeting.

Jack: He’s the opposite of Annika, at least on the outside. He introduces himself, shakes your hand, and offers to take your coat. Very gentlemanly, especially to women and children. He presents himself as a genuine caring and kind man, giving gifts and offering to listen/help anyone around him. So whenever people (Abbey) accuse him of doing something, everyone tends to be like “Not Jack! He helped me sort through my divorce!” even if they barely know him, cause Jack’s just so damn polite.

Oz: Oz is extremely awkward. Most of the times when he’s meeting someone for the first time he just kinda stands there like🧍‍♂️waiting for his friend to finish talking so he can go watch the Patriots game. He isn’t rude about it though; he’ll smile and wave but he isn’t too good at small talk. Only when he starts to open up more will he start being the asshole we all know and love.

[ink-and-blood-goddess]

Valentine's Day Prompts (Lucien Crown Prompt 9)

Requested by @evelina92-Lucien Crown / Prompt 6 💞

A/N- FINALLY I’VE FINISHED IT!!! Sorry for the long wait, I got busy with work and other stuff. I’ve enjoyed writing this one with Lucien and I can’t wait to do Bane next. Everybody enjoy :) 

Warnings: Nothing but tooth rotting fluff (little angst) 

Citrus Scale:🍎

W.C+: 2.1K

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was another peaceful, snowy nightfall in New York City. It was like any other night, but not this one. This night was very different. It was February 14th. Valentine’s Day.

This holiday was special above the rest. Valentine’s Day is your most favorite holiday out of the whole year. That special time of the year to spend it with your significant other, Lucien Crown. Lucien Crown was a name you could roll around on your tongue.

You’ve been with him for almost two years. Lucien wasn’t like other guys. He’s different. By different meaning, he’s a vampire, but a living vampire.

Lucien was born with a rare blood disorder and lived in pain into his adult life. He met you as you began working for him as a caregiver and fell in love. He wanted a way to be with you without having to deal with the pain of his disorder. 

That’s until his lifetime friend Dr. Michael Morbius found a cure. When he was given the cure, he changed a lot. Lucien was able to walk freely without his cane and do stuff he never did as a child. However, there was a side effect of that cure. A lust for blood.

After a few people were drained of their blood, Lucien vowed to never do it again and to only drink artificial blood to keep his bloodlust in control. He’s doing that for you. Lucien would never harm a hair on your head. He just wants a normal relationship with you.

 Now the thing is he’s well off. Comes from a wealthy family and can buy anything he wants. There’s been times he wanted to spoil you, but got you things that were very meaningful. Always wanted to make you smile in return.

You’ve never wanted a single thing, until now. It was something you’ve had your eye on since last spring. A beautiful gold heart locket on a gold chain. That’s the only thing you ever wanted to have.

You first saw it when you walked past the window of the jewelry store that’s several blocks down from your apartment. You couldn’t help yourself, but look at it through the glass in the sunlight. The way the gold glittered and sparkled like little diamonds. Lucien noticed you looking at it and saw how happy it made you.

“Don’t worry, love. One day you’ll wear that beautiful piece around your lovely neck,” he said as he placed a kiss into your hair. Since then, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. It never escaped your mind and you never let it go, until now.

Lucien has been acting strangely lately. For the past few weeks, you’ve hardly seen him around the penthouse. Not even at the kitchen table. This made you start worrying very deeply in the pit of your stomach.

What if he relapsed to his old ways and didn’t want you to know about it? That thought ate at your mind all day long. This is not like him to do that. He swore he’d never do it ever again. 

 You were standing outside on the balcony of the penthouse, watching the snow falling gracefully over New York. Each one floating downward like little white diamonds. Sparkling within the city lights, making them more beautiful.

As you stood upon the stone balcony, a gust of cold air came through making you shiver from head to toe. You were completely barefoot standing on the thin layer of snow. Each of your toes almost felt numb, as you stood outside like this.

The thick blanket that usually sat on the couch was wrapped around your upper body. You drew the blanket closer to your body to keep warm. Another shiver made you feel colder than before. The same thought came right back, making you feel more uneasy by the passing second.

Lucien never stays out this late. Never. He’s always back on time or he just stays in. You were starting to wonder if he doesn’t love you anymore. You were snatched away from your gut wrenching thoughts when you heard the door to the penthouse unlock. The door creaked open like always and was followed by a very familiar voice.

“(Y/N), are you there?” Lucien said in his usual playful voice. You heard the clatter of the keys on the table next to the entrance and the door closing behind him.

“(Y/N)?” he asked again playfully. “I’m over here,” you called out over your shoulder. The floorboards creaked beneath Lucien’s light footsteps.

“What are you doing out there,” a gasp escaped through his lips when he spotted you on the balcony. You turned around to face him and noticed he looked very worried seeing you like this. “Watching the snowfall over the city.” You lied. You were actually waiting for him really.

“Well, get back inside before you catch a cold,” he walked over quickly and grabbed you by the hand. Once you were inside, Lucien closed and locked the sliding glass doors. The cold air disappeared quickly and was replaced by warmth. You felt your toes again. Wiggling them around.

“Lucien, where were you?” You asked as you removed the blanket from your shoulders and threw it back onto the couch. “Nowhere. Why do you ask,” he avoided eye contact with you. You gave out a long sigh.

“I’ve been waiting for you. You were gone all day long. You didn’t leave me a note or let alone a text message. What were you doing?” Lucien was caught off guard by your words. He turned over to you and saw your eyes. Those beautiful (E/C) eyes were stained with tears.

“Oh (Y/N),” he slowly walked over to you with his arms open for embrace. Wrapping his arms around you and placing kisses on top of your head, you felt a great weight was lifted off of your shoulder. You cried softly against his scratchy and soft sweater.

“There there. Don’t cry my love. I’m here now, so don’t worry,” Lucien cooed, as he rubbed his cheek against your forehead. With his arms still wrapped around you, he lifted his head up to look at you again. Lifting your head off of his chest, you sniffle as more tears slowly fall down your face.

“Oh my dear little (Y/N). How I worried you so. I’m so sorry for doing this to you,” he said as he placed another kiss on your forehead. Your heart fluttered a bit. Lucien doesn’t like it when he upsets you like this. Even if it’s the littlest thing.

“It’s just,” you said softly, “you were acting strangely lately and I was getting very worried about you. I thought you’ve relapsed and gone back to your old ways.” Sadness filled his green eyes, making you worry about his well being.

“Oh (Y/N). I’ve got you in such a tizzy having you worrying about my well being, I wasn’t thinking straight enough. I’m so sorry,” he said as he hugged you again.

The tight embrace made you feel warm and comfortable, making you all happy that Lucien wasn’t doing anything bad. You just wanted to know what he was up to, that’s all.

“The reason why I was ‘out of character’ to put it, was to give you this,” he said as he lifted both arms off of you. Then, he reached into his coat pocket. “Now hold out your hands and close your eyes, but no peeking,” he said with a mischievous smile.

You did what he asked. You closed both eyes and held out both hands. After several seconds, you felt something smooth and leathery against your skin. Feeling around, you took note it was a box. But what kind of box though? 

Still feeling around, something else was on the box. It felt soft and smooth upon your fingers, as you rubbed them against the material. You knew it was ribbon. Tied around the box you held in the palm of your hands.

“Alright. You can open them now,” he said in a low whisper. Slowly, you opened your eyes and looked down at the box in your hands. The box was small and fits in the palm of your hand. A big red ribbon was wrapped and tied in a big bow around the box, nearly covering the whole thing up.

“Go on and open it then,” he said. Grabbing one of the ends of the ribbon, you gently tugged and pulled the ribbon towards you. The ribbon untangled itself and fell off the box. Keeping the ribbon in your hand for right now, you slowly opened the lid of the box. Once it was opened, both of your eyes widened and a gasp escaped through your lips.

There sitting inside of the box, was the golden heart locket. It laid upon red satin cloth that was lined around the interior of the box. The metallic gold glittered and sparkled in the dim light, like the day you saw it in the window. A long, gold chain encircled the locket in the box, making it more breathtaking.

“You got this for me? How thoughtful of you.” You said, as tears welled up in your eyes and fell down your face. 

“That’s not all. Open it,” he gestured to the locket. Picking up the locket, the metal felt cold and smooth against your fingers. At the edge of the locket in the middle was a small latch. Using the edge of your thumbnail, you carefully and slowly unhooked it from the small hook. Once it was free, you slowly opened the heart shaped object.

You felt your heart skip a beat or two when you looked at what was inside. Inside was a photo of Lucien and you at the beach last summer. It was from that photo booth you went to on the boardwalk. The two of you looked so happy together.

Still looking at the locket, you noticed small writing on the underside of the top. Looking closer at it, another gasp came out of your lips when you read it in a whisper.

It said: Together For Eternity, Never Apart From One Another.

More tears fell down, as you placed your hand over your mouth. “Oh Lucien,” you cried softly, “this is very sweet of you.” Lucien walked back over and hugged you again, placing kisses on top of your head. “I knew you would love it.”

“You went through all this trouble, to get me this,” you said softly in the crook of his neck. He chuckled lightly, “yes I did. I wanted to surprise you with it. You deserve this more than anything from me, other than my love for you.” He said, giving you another kiss on the head.

He did this for you and still has his love for you. He’ll never stop loving you if anything comes between you two.

After a few moments, he lifted his arms off and cupped both hands on your cheeks. “Come. Let me put that beautiful piece around your lovely neck,” he said, using his thumbs to wipe away stray tears from your beautiful (E/C) eyes. You slowly nodded your head yes.

You started walking over towards the mirror that hung near the entryway. Lucien followed behind you. Walking up to the mirror, you placed the box and ribbon onto the table that was beneath it. Lucien came up behind you, leaned over your shoulder, and picked up the locket’s chain with his slender fingers. 

    It took no time for him to unhook the clasp that held the chain together. After he unhooked it, he brushed your hair to one side so that he could put the locket on. You then picked your hair up with both hands to make it easier for him.

Lucien swung the chain around your neck and hooked the clasp back up, making sure it was safely secure on you. Letting go of your hair, it flowed back down over your shoulders and framing your face. Lucien then helped by combing his fingers through the strands to untangle them.

As the both of you look in the mirror, you couldn’t help yourself but admire the locket that now hung around your neck. The locket hung low and went past your collar bone. Your fingers hovered above the locket, as another stream of tears went down your cheeks.

Lucien snaked his arms around you, hugging from behind and rested his chin upon your shoulder. “So, do you love it (Y/N),” asking you softly. You nodded your head slowly. “Yes I do. Very much,” you said, as you looked at him in the mirror.

Lucien chuckled, “that’s very good to hear. I knew you would,” he said as he placed more kisses on your neck and jawline.