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la-petite-lapin · 6 months

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Double the Love | Part Two

Double the Love masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x female civilian!OC Word Count: 2.9k Series warnings (may change between chapters): 18+, Minors DNI, angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence, mentions of poor mental health, injury description, eventual explicit sexual content, polyamory, M/M/F, FMC is bad at feelings

They finally meet

One year later...

The message comes out of the blue. The first time I've heard from John Price in a whole month, and it's a fucking text message.

I'm watching TV, curled up in a ball on the sofa next to my best friend and flatmate Winslow "Winnie" Sloane, when my phone pings. I think about ignoring it until I catch a glimpse of his name. It's an unspoken rule between the two of us - we never knowingly ignore one another. Obviously, he can't reply to my messages when he's on ops, but that's different - that's not wilful.

I pick it up without hesitation and take a look.

JOHN PRICE: Tali, I need a favour. It's urgent.

My heart drops.

TALIA KELLER: What's happened? JOHN PRICE: Call me. I'll explain.

So, I do. I tap Winnie on the shoulder and rise up to my feet, shuffling off to my bedroom so I don't disturb her episode of Slow Horses. When I'm safely shut behind my bedroom door, I tap on the call button, dreading what's awaiting me on the other end of the line.

"John?" my voice is full of nerves as the call connects, echoing slightly around the room.

"God am I glad to hear your voice, Tali." He sounds haggard, his own voice tired and hollow. It's not hard to tell that he's fresh off an op. I can already imagine how drained he looks; can picture the dark circles shading his eyes and his scruffy too-long beard.

Sometimes, when I'm feeling particularly brave, I try to talk him into leaving the service. I think about Alex and his death, and I hate that John still knowingly puts himself in harm's way day and night. He's the only serving soldier I know now - I never met any of the other members of their unit - and I desperately wish that he'll retire soon.

"How are you?" he follows up, voice puncturing through my thoughts.

"I'm okay. At home with Winnie. How's Marcella?"

A soft sigh leaves him at the mention of his long-suffering wife. I wonder if he's even had a chance to see her yet. "Last we spoke, she was perfectly fine. Misses you though. You need to come over for dinner soon."

An easy laugh leaves me. Winnie and John aren't the only ones who've been supporting me since Alex died. John's wife Marcie has been there every step of the way too, helping me through rough patches whenever John is away on deployments. And Winnie's never been anything but kind and understanding - it's not in her nature to be anything but.

"Soon," I mumble in agreement. There's a sound on the other end of the line in the background, a murmured snippet of conversation and a drawn-out groan followed by a soft shut up. "Not alone?"

"Got some company," John admits. "Speaking of... does Winslow still have that big trip coming up?"

My palms slick with sweat. Yes. Yes, she does.

Ever since her big promotion six months ago, Winnie's job now involves a lot more travelling than it used to. And - because of that - in three days' time, she'll be in France, starting a month-long assignment helping a struggling marketing firm in Paris.

And I'll be alone.

It doesn't bother me as much as it used to, but I've always had this thing about being alone. It's part of the reason why I live with Winnie; why I've been seeing a therapist since I was sixteen; why I struggle to have normalcy. My current therapist thinks that it's a form of abandonment issues from being orphaned at a young age, which has led to my inability to maintain stable relationships. The therapist before that thought it was something completely different; that I seek to form attachments but wilfully don't, self-sabotaging and creating my own permanent sense of loneliness. But, my point is, I don't react anywhere near as badly to it as I did when I was a kid.

I still remember when I was fifteen and Alex left for his first deployment. I was still living with our maternal grandmother at the time, and I completely shut down. I holed up in my room for almost a whole month, refusing to speak and barely eating or sleeping. I could hardly function for worrying about him...

"Tali?"

I snap out of it. "Sorry. Yes."

"Could you... could I possibly bring some of my guys to your apartment? Just while Winslow is away. Our safehouse in the area has been taken out of action and we need somewhere to lay low for a little while."

My guys. The unit.

"What about your place?" My brow furrows. Surely Marcella wouldn't mind a few guests. She's calm and motherly and takes great pride in hosting. I'm sure she'd be in the element with them.

John clears his throat awkwardly. "Not an option. They don't know."

Ah. The brave, almighty Captain John Price still hasn't told his team that he's married. Typical.

I roll my eyes. "Okay. I hope you know that we're coming back to that later." A beat of silence passes. "How many people are we talking, John? Because it's a two-bedroom flat in London. It's spacious but it's hardly the Tardis."

He snorts out a dry laugh. "Only two. One of the lads is local so he's got family around here he can stay with. And there's some stuff I've got to get done, so I'll be hopping from base to base."

"Where are they going to sleep? Are they going to mind sharing a bed? Because the sofa is comfortable, but I know how you army guys are built..."

There's an awkward silence on Price's end as I hear him shifting around. It takes me a second to realise that he's covering his mouth against his phone's microphone. "Yeah... that's, um- that won't be an issue for them."

Oh.

"Okay. Cool. I'll take them."

I wince. Why the fuck did I say cool? Of all the ways that I could respond and I choose that. Way to go, Tali.

"Are you sure that you're okay with this, Tali?" Price asks, his voice soft and encouraging. "If you aren’t, we can find something else-"

"Price, I'll take them in. Winnie leaves on Tuesday morning, so just have them swing by around then, okay?"

Favour asked and questions answered, we say our goodbyes and hang up. It takes me a second to gather my thoughts before padding back into the living room. The moment I step through the hallway, Winslow pauses the TV, angling her head up to look at me. A cloud of black curly hair frames her beautiful face, dark eyes wide and expectant. "Is John back home?"

I wince, getting ready to launch into an explanation. "Not quite."

Tuesday morning rolls around all too soon. By 9 a.m. I'm sitting cross-legged on the foot of Winnie's bed as she packs up her stuff. I can't help but feel a pang of anxiety strike deep in my chest.

"Are you sure that you're gonna be okay?" Winnie asks, almost like she can read my mind.

I meet her dark, knowing gaze and offer her a smile. "Winnie, I'll be fine. You don't need to worry about me. If I need anything, I can call Marcella."

She smiles, running a hand through her freshly braided hair. The pearls attached to some strands clink together softly. "Okay. Good. But you've got to call me once a week at least, okay?" Before I can reassure her that I will, she adds, "And you've got to text me every day."

"Winslow, I will. Stop stressing, please."

A moment of easy silence passes before the laughter starts. Both of us crack up, her eyes finding mine and holding my gaze.

Once we've both calmed down, I take a closer look at her cases. She's packing almost everything she owns. It's a sight that worries me, so I look away, deciding to look out of the window instead.

A loud, firm knock on the front door saves me just as Winnie is packing up her last suitcase. We exchange a look before I'm up on my feet, scrambling to answer it. I can't lie, I'm curious to meet John's friends. But I'm also sad. Because there's a strong possibility that they knew Alex too. That they were with him when he died.

When I open the door, there's two men standing in the hallway, just like John said there would be. The first has short brown hair styled into a mohawk, the sides cropped close to his scalp but the top and back left longer. He's broad-chested, muscular too; built like a grizzly bear. And, even though his complexion has a slightly pallid hue under the overhead lights, it's not hard to imagine that he's usually quite tan.

And then there's his friend. Standing next to the grizzly bear and at least half-a-foot taller than him, he has the expression of a man who wants to break me apart with his bare hands just to see what's inside. I fight to meet his intense gaze, taking catalogue of the features visible under the dark hood of his black sweatshirt. His eyes are hazel - I think - skin tanned from what I'd assume are long hours spent out in the sun, and I can't quite make out his hair colour. He's equally if not more muscular than his friendlier-looking counterpart. My eyes trail down to his mouth, drawn to the scar bisecting his bottom lip. It doesn't draw away from his attractiveness though; just adds to the sense of rugged charm that I'm getting from him.

Not that it should matter. It doesn't. They're here because they need help; not because they want to be ogled by a complete stranger.

"Are you John's friends?" I ask stupidly, as if they could be anyone else.

The grizzly bear nods. "Aye. And you are?"

Scottish. Nice. I've always loved the accent, but his is even better. There's a humour there; something uniquely his. It makes me want to keep him talking just so I can hear it more.

"Tali." I step back so that they can come inside. They hesitate for a second before following me into the living room, the tall, silent one closing the door behind him with a soft click. "Also John's friend."

The grizzly bear plops straight down onto the couch, stretching out with no hesitation and making himself at home. His arms drape over the backrest, a lazy grin forming on his lips as he watches me take a seat on my armchair. The tall one gives him a reprimanding look, hovering beside the window behind him. His light eyes are always alert; darting around the room like something's going to jump out at any second.

"You army?" he asks, expression wary. His voice is all gravel with a Manchester accent.

I offer him a small smile. "Nope." I don't think anyone could mistake me for a soldier. I'm small - short and slender - and skittish at the best of times. "So... what should I call you?"

Hazel eyes narrow at me. "Ghost."

The grizzly bear rolls his eyes dramatically, offering me a wide, disarming grin. It's blatantly obvious that he's overcompensating for him. "Callsign is Soap, but a pretty lass like you can call me Johnny."

My heart flutters.

It takes a second to remember what John had said on the phone. Sharing a bed won't be an issue for them. The awkward, implying tone he'd said it in. In other words, neither of them are meant for me.

Ghost eases away from the window to stand just behind the sofa, drawing closer to Johnny. Johnny, on the other hand, moves so that he's leaning forward, elbows braced on his knees as he cocks his head at me. "A friend of Captain Price, are ye?"

I nod softly. "Yes."

"Funny that," Ghost barks, tilting his head to one side. "He's never mentioned you." Thinly veiled suspicion drifts off of him in waves, and it makes me feel endlessly uncomfortable. His harsh gaze melts through my skin and bones, boring deep into my soul.

I shift in my seat. "He never mentioned either of you to me, so I don't think that counts for much."

Johnny lets out a loud laugh. "I think I'm gonna like ye, Tali. Not many people talk back to 'im."

It's in that moment - as I'm silently praying for the floor to open up and swallow me whole - that Winnie steps out of her room, suitcases in tow. She walks into the living room, depositing them by the front door before coming over to introduce herself, a sceptical look on her face.

She levels Ghost with an icy glare, not looking away from him as she asks me, "Everything all okay here, Tali?"

"Yeah, it's alright Winnie." I gesture to each of John's friends in turn. "Winnie, this is Johnny." He raises his hand and waves, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "And that is Ghost." I point to looming, ominous figure behind him.

"Ghost?" she repeats slowly. I nod. "Okay, well I'm leaving now. Tali, I love you and I'll miss you. Remember to call me." She bends at the waist to hug me, wrapping me up in her warm, vanilla-scented embrace. As she straightens, she glares at each of the men in turn. "And you two - don't give her any shit. If I find out you've made her feel uncomfortable even once, not even John will be able to save you. Got it?"

Johnny stares up at my friend, mystified. His blue eyes are bright as he nods. "Don't worry. We won't be any trouble."

Winnie turns back to face me. "Right, I've got to go or I'll miss my ride to the airport. I'll be back before you even know I'm gone, okay?"

"I know," I say, my voice soft. "I love you. Be safe and text me when you land."

With a nod, Winnie presses a gentle kiss to the top of my head then gets her last few bits together. And then she leaves. Leaving me alone with two complete strangers. Yay.

"So," I grumble, struggling against the urge to shy away from their intense gazes in the safety of my room, "do you want to see where you'll be staying?"

Later that night, the three of us gather in the living room to watch TV.

The guys didn't have much to unpack. They travelled light so I'm going to have to go shopping sometime soon to buy them some essentials; more clothes and toiletries. Definitely food too. If dinner tonight was any indication, they eat a lot.

I'm curled up in my armchair again, watching something that Johnny chose on Netflix. Every once and a while, I glance across at them. Ghost is sitting upright, legs stretched out in front of him. His legs are so long that his feet are tucked under the coffee table. And then there's Johnny. He's laying on his side on the sofa, his head resting on Ghost's muscular thighs. Every now and then, Ghost's hand runs down the length of Johnny's side, stroking him in soothing, rhythmic motions.

Looking at them, I can't help but feel a sense of longing. Jealousy that they're together and obviously quite happy. That they're comfortable enough around one another for these subconscious displays of affection.

I'll never have that. It's something that I've come to accept. I'm twenty-five now and I've never had a serious relationship. I don't even think I want one. For a period of time in my late teens, I thought that I might be aro-ace, but over time I've gathered that I do feel romantic and sexual attraction. It's just different.

The sad truth is that I don't trust anyone enough to believe that they'd stay with me. Love me. Make me feel safe enough for displays of casual affection. There would always be that looming sense of dread that they'd leave me sooner or later.

In my head, I've justified it. If I don't get into relationships, no one can leave me. Alex's death all but solidified that for me.

The rom-com Johnny picked out gets to a comedic scene - a naked beach fight - and he starts to chuckle. I join him and I swear even Ghost lets out a little snort. We're all laughing until...

"Fuck. Johnny, you're bleeding."

My heart crawls up into my throat. My eyes snap across to them, blatantly looking now. The white t-shirt Johnny is wearing is plastered to his side, a red patch seeping through the fabric, spreading across his ribs.

He sits upright, holding it with one large hand. "Ah fuck. Didn't get any on the sofa, did ah'?"

"Fuck the sofa," I splutter out in a panic. "Are you okay? Why are you bleeding? Should I call an ambulance?"

Johnny looks back at me with a quizzical expression while Ghost just sighs, standing up. He walks towards the bedrooms at an unhurried pace, stopping along the way to press a chaste kiss to Johnny's forehead, placing a loving hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, darling, I'll get the bag." Hazel eyes swing towards me, where I'm still panicking in my armchair. "His dressing just needs changing, and I'll check his stitches. He's fine, love."

I ease back into my seat, heat rushing to my cheeks. "Oh."

Ghost leaves the room, heading into my bedroom to get the aforementioned bag. I've decided to give them my room for the duration of their stay because it has an en-suite. It eliminates the risk of me accidentally stumbling in on them in the shared bathroom that doesn't have a working lock. Overall, it's safer for everyone that I'm staying in Winnie's room.

Feeling more than a little foolish for my outburst, I offer Johnny a weak smile. "I'm going to go to bed now. Goodnight, Johnny."

"Ye sure?" he asks, blue eyes tinted with a hint of... something. Maybe disappointment? I don't know. "The movie isn't over yet. You seemed like ye were enjoying it." His brow furrows. "We could watch something else."

"I'm sure. It's fine; I'm just tired. We can watch another movie tomorrow night if you want."

His eyes light up at that. "Yeah, sounds perfect."

I'm back in Winnie's room by the time Ghost leaves mine. I can hear his footsteps padding down the hallway. Hear their muffled conversation and muted laughter.

As I fall asleep, I can't help but feel a different kind of loneliness. And, as I drift off, my heart aches for what Ghost and Johnny have.

a/n: guess who's back! so Tali has finally met the boys :) sorry if this part is a little short, just wanted to get something out in time for christmas for you guys - merry christmas and take care of yourselves, lapetitelapin

#cod #fanfic #ghoap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #simon “ghost” riley x reader #soap x reader #callofduty #cod fanfic #cod x reader #ghost x reader #female reader #romance #angst #poly #johnny mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny x reader x simon #double the love

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chelseeebe · 10 months

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do you think i have forgotten (about you)

a part two to come pick me up.

summary: eddie finds himself out of jail and right back on your doorstep. running from his past while trying desperately to fix the mess he had left you in only leads to complicated situations.

a/n: so this is actually not what i had expected to post lmfao but similar to part one i reread this in my drafts and literally fell in love.. like it needed to be posted.

18+. smut, smoking, drug and alcohol use. mentions of jail and creepy therapists. angst.. sweet sweet angst. as before, this is stevexreader however this part is way more about eddie and r.

you can’t lie. the last few months had been pretty tough, on both you and steve. through no fault of his own though.

you were just.. unwell. perhaps you always had been and the process of seeing someone you regarded as your best friend beat the shit out of someone and subsequently be jailed for it had brought all those feelings up.

‎♡‧₊˚

not to mention the emotional toll of him dipping in and out of your life and the countless other reckless shit he’d pulled you into before.

currently things were stable, yours and steve’s relationship was good, you were going to work and succeeding in being mostly sober. a little help from a short stay in a psychiatric ward and some nice new pills had you feeling semi-okay again.

it had started not long after eddie was sentenced, you’d sat in the docks of the courtroom and watched the judge bang the gavel down as he was sentenced to twenty four months. it stung knowing that he’d gotten himself in this position because you’d dared to kiss your boyfriend in front of him.

nevertheless, a few short weeks after the horrid court date you’d suffered a complete breakdown at a party. throwing anything you could get your hands on, sobbing hysterically as steve tried his best to calm you. right in front of everybody, their gawping eyes prying as you were escorted out by the police who had then issued a caution and had recommended to the judge that you needed some sort of mental health intervention.

at the time it was humiliating. the worst part being that it felt like everyone around you was walking on eggshells, trying to coddle you and tell you that it was all okay. you’d known it wasn’t. maybe it could be, but for right then, no.

coming back into the apartment and the real world had been quite frankly, awful. missing the safety of the ward, you couldn’t hurt anyone in there.

steve had been your saviour through it all. making sure he was there for every visit with a great big smile on his. he was gentle, giving you your meds, making sure you were eating and he’d even found you a job, helping you apply, christ he’d even ran through a mock interview with you, putting on a deep voice and asking you silly questions.

and do you know what?

eventually things got back to some sense of normality. braving your first gathering, trembling as you walked through the door, terrified that everyone would hate you only to find that all anyone had really cared about was making sure you were well again.

and that lands us here, finally finishing a dragging shift and traipsing home to collapse into bed to wait for steve to get home.

except, nearing the front door you notice it’s cracked open slightly. the door handle looks busted and you’re ninety percent sure that either someone was currently in your apartment or had been in and ransacked it.

you push the door open with one finger, it freaks loudly as it opens slowly, startling the intruder who curses and drops whatever they were holding.

‘you have five seconds to get the fuck out,’ you warn, creeping from behind the door frame nervously.

there’s a figure stood in the middle of the room, back turned to you who very slowly puts his hands in the air, surrendering.

he turns to face you, a shit-eating grin on his face and you finally recognise the cocky face staring back at you.

‘eddie?!’

he breathes a sigh of relief, ‘holy shit i was startin’ to think you’d moved out and i’d just broken into some strangers apartment,’ cackling as his arms outstretch to hug you.

‘what the fuck- what are you doing here? you’re supposed to be in jail!’ in utter disbelief that he was stood before you, debating whether pinching yourself would wake you up from this strange dream.

‘i got out! duh,’ he grins, making his way towards you, arms still outstretched.

‘you.. you got out? what? you’re not supposed to be out for like another year.. i don’t- i’m not understanding,’ carefully wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he pulls you into a hug.

he felt stronger, sturdy as his arms wrap around your waist. the hug lasts for what feels like an eternity until you back to properly examine his face and to once again check that you weren’t hallucinating.

‘i can’t believe you’re actually here.. how are you? i’m sorry i’ve been.. busy,’ trying to recover over the last few months had meant that you’d sorta neglected eddie, his last letter still in the clutter on your desk somewhere.. unanswered.

unfortunately for him, you’d had a few more important things to focus on. like trying not to break down and keep your relationship with steve afloat.

‘i’m good, i’m always good.. what’ve you been up to? i missed your letters,’ it was a simple statement but you’d never truly comprehend just how much receiving anything from you had meant to him, how much it kept him going.

you let go of him fully, motioning for him to take a seat, ‘it’s a super long story..’ sighing as you jam the bursted door shut, steve would have to look at it on his day off.

‘well it’s a good thing i’ve got time,’ collapsing into the cushions, making himself right at home.

you and eddie are sat on the couch smoking when the key turns in the door and steve walks in, looking just as exhausted as he did when he left this morning. the tiny shadow of a smile that was on his face is dropped the second he see’s eddie, replaced with a state of pure confusion.

‘what the fuck?’ he exclaims, dropping his bag onto the floor as eddie clambers off of the sofa to greet him.

steve’s face is a picture, eyebrows knitted together as eddie’s hand claps his back, ‘you’re supposed to be in prison?’

eddie pulls back, holding onto steves shoulder’s, ‘and you’re supposed to be happy to see me,’ faux-offended by steve’s confused stature.

‘no.. i am, what? why are you out?’

eddie shrugs him off, coming back to the couch, ‘ehh it’s a long story.. come.. sit, how was work, big boy?’ taking the spliff from your outstretched hand to offer to steve.

steve plonks himself down next to you, placing your legs over his thighs instead of the couch, ‘yeah.. it was alright, i’m sorry- why the fuck are you in my living room and not in federal prison?’ taking the burning joint from eddie’s fingers.

‘i got out,’ eddie offers back, the exact same thing he’d said to you. you had come to the conclusion that his departure from jail had perhaps not been entirely legal but it was way easier to brush it off rather than trying to probe him.

steve narrows his eye’s, obviously also not buying his bullshit but decides instead to smoke whatever had been handed to him, humming as he exhales a thick cloud of smoke.

‘i said that he could stay here.. just for a few days, if that’s okay?’ you ask, looking up at your boyfriend with hopeful eyes.

he pauses, contemplating if harbouring a, presumed, escaped convict was really a great idea, ‘uhh.. yeah i’m sure a few days is fine..’ he didn’t sound so sure himself.

‘thanks man,’ eddie nods, eyeing the door to his old bedroom.

the thing is, when eddie was convicted, his uncle had come to collect most of his stuff, taking it back to hawkins in his van. you’d thought he’d be locked up for at least two years so sending his things back to hawkins was the smartest idea. that meant when you guys moved out, you weren’t left to deal with his mountains of crap.

you catch him looking, feeling a tad guilty that he’d come back to nothing, ‘the bed’s still in there but.. it’s mostly storage now,’ scrunching your nose as you grimace.

‘that’s alright.. anything’s better than prison,’ he jokes, offering a saddened chuckle.

‘yeah.. exactly,’ not that you had much idea what prison was like, but from what eddie had told you, your living room floor would be an improvement.

the three of you spend a few hours right there on the couch, listening to eddie’s tales from jail, entangled with your stories of all the thing he’d missed. steve nudges you at some point, muttering something about bed which you agree with, rushing around to find eddie a spare blanket.

‘you’ll be okay in here?’ you ask, poised in the doorway.

‘yeah it’s great.. thank you,’ he smiles, sitting down on the edge of his old bed, peering around the now mostly empty room.

it felt a little suffocating if he was honest, the sheer amount of memories these blank four walls held. he swore he could hear echoes of your laugh from the times before, remembering the nights where you’d stumble back here and subsequently pass out in a heap on his bed. he shakes his head slightly, ridding himself of the thought before it got too deep.

‘okay, well.. goodnight,’ flashing him a tight-lipped smile before closing the door and making your way to your own room.

steve is stood facing the window, already stripped out of his clothes, ready for bed. he spins when he hears the door click shut, walking over to where you stood undressing with a grin, hands finding their place on your waist.

you hum at the feeling of his palms on your skin, ‘what’re you doing?’ shimmying out of your horrendous grey work trousers.

his lips softly press against the back of your neck and maybe it’s the weed or maybe it’s spite but he can’t help himself, fingers coming down to mess with the waistband of your panties. placing your hand over his to stop him from going any further.

‘we can’t,’ you hush, acutely aware that eddie was just a few doors down and would most certainly hear.

‘we can.. you’ll just have to be quiet,’ murmuring against the back of your neck, your hand doing absolutely nothing to really try and stop him. ‘can you do that for me?’

he travels further down, past the flimsy waistband, feeling his smirk widen against your skin as you sigh softly, sliding your hand onto his forearm, using it for leverage while his middle finger begins to circle your already sensitive clit.

your sex life hadn’t been what it was in the beginning, both of you busy with work and mental health crises that it was now more of a rarity to find the time. it’s not really lost on you as to why steve is so eager for it tonight but you couldn’t help but to feel at least a little turned on by this sudden bout of possessiveness.

your eyes flutter closed as he adds another finger to the equation, letting your body lean back against his bare chest, ‘my god,’ you moan softly, leaving crescent moon shapes indented in his skin.

‘hmm? is that good, baby?’ his plump, pink lips pressing gentle kisses to you neck and shoulders, teeth grazing the agile skin. he’s unforgiving and really not trying to be quiet at all.

it was definitely spite.

you can feel his erect cock against your ass, unknowingly writhing around, brushing up against him. his fingers hastily leave the safety of your now sodden underwear, manoeuvring your body to face him.

‘you’re such an asshole,’ you hush, gripping onto his arms for balance, walked backwards towards the bed.

a menacing smirk plastered on his face as he falls on top of you, knowing full well that eddie could definitely hear your soft pants and the way your lips echoed his name. stevestevesteve.

his fingers are brushing the hair from your face, making sure you were looking at him. it’s disgusting how attractive you find this. steve wasn’t usually one for such outward jealousy but you couldn’t say you hated it. legs wrapping around his torso after he had slipped your underwear off.

you don’t even attempt to conceal the whimper that ripples through your throat when he slides into your cunt. gripping onto his shoulders as the bed begins to creak, headboard knocking into the dry wall, unapologetic with his movements.

completely unashamed.

you’re eternally grateful that eddie doesn’t mention anything the next morning though he avoids steve’s eye and keeps his head low until he leaves for work. breathing an almost undetected sigh of relief when the door clicks shut.

the pair of spend most of the day lounging on the couch in front of the television, watching the overdue videos steve had neglected to return. the darkness eventually creeps up on you. the moon shining through the windows.

‘c’mon.. let’s go out,’ eddie nudges your knee with his, a devilish grin plastered across his face. he’d been bored shitless all day, as much as he enjoyed the mundane with you.. he wanted to go out. feel that rush through his veins as you got into something you shouldn’t.

‘i shouldn’t.. i’ve been doing good lately, it’s.. i can’t,’ sinking further into the sofa. you wanted to go out, really. but you and eddie going out alone together was a recipe for disaster.

‘and that’s why you deserve a treat.. c’mon, i know you want to,’ egging you on, now poking your knee with his finger, his other hand gripping onto the warm beer can.

you ponder for a second, pursing your lips as you weigh up the pros and cons. you don’t have to get wasted.. you could go out with eddie and be back before steve got home from work. yeah. you could do that.

‘where?’

eddie’s smile widens, he’d anticipate a hell of a lot more nagging and pleading than this, ‘fucking.. anywhere, the night is young and so are we.’

‘okay.. but, we’re having a normal night.. nothing crazy and i wanna be back here before steve is, got it?’ raising your eyebrows as you down the last sliver of wine.

‘absolutely.. whatever you want,’ eddie chuckles, slapping his knees as he stands from the couch, ‘c’mon.. get dressed.’

you stare up at him for a moment before getting up from the couch and slinking into yours and steve’s room. he wouldn’t be happy about this but if you were home and in bed before he was, he wouldn’t have much to complain about and if he did, he’d get over it.

and hey, maybe you could prove to him that you were okay now. that you were ready and able to handle things on your own.

everyone goes absolutely crazy when eddie walks in, almost as if he’d been locked up for a year. there are a few unhappy murmurs, worried onlookers who had been there that night.

but he doesn’t seem to care, shaking hands and chatting to everyone that came up to him. people handing him cups of mystery liquor which eventually got passed onto you.

you’re perched next to him on the couch, drinking the vile tasting liquid without a second thought. the odd person still coming up to him in shock, asking all sorts about what life was like on the inside.

and he just laughs and tell them the same generic story about earning his way and how eventually people listened to him. you doubt much of it is actually true but let him continue nonetheless. what did you know about prison?

bedsides, you’d seen the scars that now littered his knuckles and forearms. how his muscles had grown and the way his nose now bent slightly to the left. he must’ve done something to earn them.

your head is pretty fuzzy the first time the plate full of mystery white powder is passed around. respectfully declining and mumbling about sticking to drink.

but by the second time it comes your way, you’re glancing down at the porcelain with eager eyes. one tiny line couldn’t hurt, right? you still had plenty of time to sober up and get home before steve.

so you pick up the rolled up note, eddie’s eyes watching like a hawk, ‘hey.. you sure?’ his own jaw clenching from his previous line.

‘it’s fine,’ you nod reassuringly, holding one nostril and sniffing the pre-cut line, sniffing harshly. you’d forgotten how much it stung, making your eyes water as you pass the plate onwards.

you sit back into the couch, watching as the conversation roars around you. waiting for that sweet, sweet feeling when it finally hit.

and oh boy, does it.

one second you’re sat on the couch and the next you’re pulling eddie up onto his feet, trying to make him dance along to the pounding music with you. it all sounded so good. your body warm and loose. heart pounding in your chest as the beat vibrates through your limbs.

you’re not sure how long you’re dancing for, keeping your eyes closed while other people start getting up to join you.

not even questioning the second line when it re-emerges. still slowly sipping on what was now a dark liquor, bitter in taste, burning your throat on the way down.

eddie’s hand gingerly touches your waist causing you to pull your eyes to him. he’s dancing too, clutching onto the beer bottle, pupils dilated as they cling to you. cling to your body. moving in time with his.

everything’s a little blurry but you keep your eyes steady on eddie, smiling as the music distorts in your ears. it sounded robotic and weird but still had you wiggling your hips in time with the odd beat.

his other hand meets your waist, more confidently this time, pulling your body towards his. you think nothing of it, focussed on moving in time to the music.

eddie’s hand moves up to cup your cheek, the party bleating on around you as he tips your chin up towards his. a soft smile on his face as your eyes meet his fully.

the next few seconds happen so quickly that you’re not even sure if it actually happened.

his lips crash against yours, pressing himself to your chest, hand clinging to your cheek. he’s desperate with it, hungry and insatiable.

the magic dust you’d just inhaled must have softened your inhibitions because you’re kissing him back. palm pressed against his chest, fingers curling into his t-shirt.

until you finally realise exactly what you’re doing.

pulling yourself away from him, stumbling backwards as you blink up at him. had you actually just kissed him? no, why the fuck had he kissed you?

‘what the fuck are you doing?’ you exclaim, mind still hazy under the influence of whatever narcotics they were passing around.

your stomach twists. steve was probably sat at home waiting for you to get back, worried sick about where you’d gone. all the while you’re kissing his best friend at a party he had no idea was happening. it makes your stomach twist, guilt coursing through your chest.

you back away from eddie, tripping over another party goers outstretched legs as you go. head pounding, hands tingling. everything surrounding you had become a massive blur of flashing lights and distorted faces.

‘fuck.. wait!’ eddie calls out from the living room but you’re already gone, pushing past the gaggle of people in the hallway as you fumble for the doorknob.

the cold air hitting you the second the door is open, you hadn’t brought a jacket. or had you? you can’t really remember.

there are people strewn across the front yard, watching as you stumble down the path, fumbling for your phone in you pocket. the letters all jumble into one as you click through searching for steve's contact. slamming the green button the second you recognise the slight curve of the s.

he answers on the first ring, ‘hello? where are you?’ you’d missed the tens of missed calls from his number.

‘i’m.. i don’t know,’ sobbing into the receiver as one of the onlookers from the party approaches you, ‘where are we?’

from what you can make out, it’s a young girl, she looks worried as she takes the phone from your hand and places it to her ear, telling steve whatever street you were on. her spare hand reaches out to rub your back, keeping you close to her body as steve fucking sprints from your apartment to the address.

eddie makes absolutely zero attempts to try and find you, assuming that you’d already run off home. fuck it, he was out now. might as well prolong the inevitable argument with steve for as long as possible.

when steve arrives, he’s practically frantic, taking you from the kind girl as he leads you off home. his arm keeping your body held upright as you wail the entire way home.

‘steve..’ you sniffle, being guided into the empty apartment, ‘we kissed- eddie kissed me.. i didn’t mean to, i promise,’ clinging onto his neck as you’re lead into your bedroom.

he’s weirdly silent, placing you gently onto the bed, taking off your shoes before sitting down on the edge of the mattress.

‘have you taken anything?’ he questions, choosing to ignore your confession, for his own sanity mostly.

you nod into the pillow, sprawled out on the mattress as the room spins around you. it’s dizzying, and not just the room spinning but the fact that steve was still so gentle even after your admission.

‘what? what d’you take?’

‘i don’t know.. coke i think.’

he nods, swallowing the growing fury in his throat, ‘i’ll get you some water, try and sleep yeah?’

he goes to get up but you’re already grabbing onto his forearm, keeping him firmly on the bed, ‘don’t go.. please,’ your voice hoarse from the party.

god, you thought. you sound utterly pitiful, ashamed that even after all he had done for you, you couldn’t hold your shit together on your own and were still relying on steve.

‘okay,’ he whispers, kicking his shoes off and swinging his legs over and onto the bed, sitting up on the pillows rather than joining you properly.

his arm snakes around your back, lifting your body ever so slightly to slide his arm under, pulling you onto his warm chest. stubbly chin coming to rest atop of your head.

you nestle your head into his cotton shirt, ‘i love you,’ head rising with every breath he took, closing your eyes and attempting to fall asleep despite the fact it felt like there was something stabbing into the side of your brain.

steve’s sat, deadpanned on the couch when eddie attempts to creep back in. startled by his presence in the darkened room. by this time, the birds had begun to chirp as the first rays of sunlight crept through the blinds.

‘shit man..’ eddie clutches his chest, ‘you scared me,’ he fumbles his way through the room, still pretty intoxicated, lips sore from chewing on them all night.

steve blinks, scrunching up his face as the other boy takes a seat next to him. eddie’s sure he knows. you had definitely told him. jesus christ, why wouldn’t you? he fucked up. again.

‘you can’t stay here anymore,’ steve states, stoic.

he wasn’t letting much on here. eddie almost wishes he’d just beat his ass and get it over with at least it’d be better than this creepy shit he had going on.

‘bro.. i’m sorry, i was fucked up.. i don’t know what the hell i was doing,’ he’s staring wide-eyed at steve who’s staring straight ahead, jaw tense, ‘shit, punch me if you want.. god knows i’d deserve it.’

‘i don’t care,’ steve presses his tongue to the back of his teeth, ‘you come back and you fuck everything up.. do you know how hard i’ve tried to help her.. all these meds and doctors appointments,’ steve’s shoulder’s slump, ‘fuck man, i even had to take her to this creepy ass therapist and try not to beat the shit out of him every time i dropped her off.. d’you know how hard that was?’ he sounds desperate now, dropping the weird, unsettling facade, turning to eddie with a genuine look of hurt upon his face.

eddie’s mouth opens to reply, but he has nothing to say. hasn’t a clue how to answer that because he didn’t know. yeah, you’d told him about it and how steve hadn’t left your side throughout it all but he had no idea that this was how steve had felt.

‘no,’ steve scoffs, ‘no you don’t know.. because you weren’t there,’ he sighs before continuing, ‘you didn’t have to watch the love of your life be dragged away because some judge had deemed her crazy. you weren’t there week in, week out in that hospital.. helpless.’

steve wouldn’t ever think of you as a burden but fuck, he needed to tell literally anyone the shit he had bottled up and eddie was now the (un)willing participant to catch the brunt of his frustration.

eddie swallows, staring out into the dark room, ‘i didn’t know.. i’m sorry,’ he’s scrambling now, trying to think of something, anything to say that could help, but he can’t. in steve’s eyes, he’s the one who continually seems to ruin shit for you. ruin you.

‘so no, i don’t want to hit you because you kissed my girlfriend but i do want to fucking kill you for coming in here and messing her up all over again,’ steve spits, his words like venom as they hit eddie square in the face.

any traces of intoxication had been pummelled from his body, head beginning to pound from the impending hangover, chest heavy under the weight of steve’s words.

his eyes squeeze shut. he was a fuck up and he knew it. he wasn’t sure why he’d even done it. you just looked so pretty and blissful and.. and you’d smiled at him the way you used to and he’d thought that maybe that had meant something. the few seconds that you’d kissed him back had felt like euphoria, for the first time in so long everything felt right again.

steve interrupts his train of self-pitying thought by standing from the couch, turning to walk away but pauses, ‘i’ll help you find somewhere tomorrow.. maybe nance n’ all will let you stay,’ and even through all of this steve couldn’t help but be kind to the man.

that’s what hit eddie the hardest, that even though he had hurt his best friend.. he was still stood in front of him throwing him a line and offering a sense of patience and understanding that eddie hadn’t felt in far too long.

he watches in silence as steve slinks off to your shared bedroom, head hanging low in utter shame. he’d never admit aloud, and especially not to steve, but the thought of you was the one thing getting him through his sentence.

the first few months were pretty rocky, having to prove himself time and time again, resulting in a multitude of different injuries but at the end of the day, he’d climb into his bunk and re-read the letters you’d sent. thumbing the pages until they were yellowed and worn. the mere thought of you still thinking about him was enough to make him get out of bed each morning.

he peers down at his scarred hands, tracing over the glistening white indentations. they all told their own individual story, the big one that ran across the large part of his hand was the worst after being slashed with a makeshift shiv during a fight. he was quite lucky really, his hand had taken the majority of the damage and had meant he wasn’t left to bleed out on the floor.

so he’d gotten stitches, kept his mouth shut and things had started to change. and yet still, every night he’d go to bed thinking of your face, telling himself that it wasn’t long to go.

you were his saving grace. the only thing that had stopped him slipping into darkness. he’d thought about it plenty, hurting himself or one of the douchebag inmates he shared the small space with. at least that way he’d get moved into solitary, maybe he’d even prove himself to the other guys.

you keep quiet when steve comes into your bedroom, unsure of whether to let him know you had practically heard their entire conversation. the mattress dips when he gets into bed, exhaling softly and making sure the blanket is covering both of you.

he sits in silence for a moment, you can feel his eyes burning into your face before he eventually settles in and lies back on the pillow.

‘are you mad at me?’ you squeak, gazing at him from tired eyes.

your voice startles him, so sure that you were still asleep but he answers quickly, ‘no, never,’ turning on his side to face you, inches from your face. it felt so intimate like this, vulnerable.

‘i heard what you said.. i’m sorry for..’ your bottom lip wobbles and you try hard to blink away the brimming tears, ‘for putting you through that.’

he’s immediately comforting you, placing a warm hand on your sodden cheek, ‘you’re okay.. it’s okay, you didn’t do anything,’ steve’s gut twisted, he hadn’t meant for you to hear any of it and the thought of you feeling guilty for eddie’s sake pricked at his heart.

you nod, not completely believing his words but for the sake of not causing a problem so early in the morning, deciding to just accept it. no matter how much it had been parroted to you, there was no accepting that none of this was your fault.

‘it’s just the way your brain is wired,’ dr. foster had said during one of your sessions, ‘but i’m here to make it all better,’ his eyes were narrowed, carefully watching you from his leather chair.

the memory alone makes you shudder, he’d been all for this authentic, organic approach.. hosting the sessions in his home and perhaps at times, becoming a little too familiar. his hand patting your knee as you spoke, asking creepy questions about your relationship with steve and overstepping a shit ton of boundaries. he had these icy blue eyes that lingered on yours for too long, there was something deeply unsettling about the way they narrowed when steve was mentioned. the utter anger they held when you brought up eddie. oh no, he really didn’t like eddie.

he’d been the one to suggest that you slow down with the letters to eddie, telling you that focusing on recovery was more important. it had worked in his favour anyway, the letters becoming the least of your concerns as you navigated recovery.

nonetheless, he didn’t last long. you were still in that mellow adjustment period, getting used to the meds when steve had informed you that dr. foster was no longer going to be your therapist. something about a conflict of schedules but you weren’t sure how true that really was.

it had been a few weeks since you’d last seen eddie, unsure of where he was or what trouble he’d gotten himself into. maybe even a minuscule part of you was hoping that he’d got himself arrested, at least that way you’d know he was safe inside and not wrecked in a ditch somewhere.

for the most part, you’d managed to put him to the back of your mind. it was only when things got quiet did you worry about him. deep down, you knew it was for the best. you couldn’t be around him without that niggling voice in the back of your head creeping back up. there was too much history there.

and steve had been so wonderful. you’re not sure you’d ever felt love like this. so transparent and pure, so void of expectations that he could see you at your worst and still be just as content to love you.

it all makes your heart ache, were you enough for steve even when you were like this? he had bore witness to the most horrific times of your life and yet, he’d be there everyday with a smile on his face and an open heart prepared for whatever that day may bring.

he’d taken the day off of work to purely spend it with you. granted, you’d only wanted to sit on the couch and watch a bunch of terrible movies with him but it was good enough. you’re not sure how long you’ve now been on this couch, but you knew it was late as the street lights glimmer that harsh orange through the blinds.

this film has you falling asleep, steve’s pick, obviously. you’d slid down the couch to rest your head on his lap, eyelids weighing heavy as sleep threatens to take over.

until you’re both startled by the incessant banging on the door, fist pummelling into the already brittle wood. your head snaps upward towards steve, pouting at the rude awakening. who on earth could find the need to pound the door at this time?

‘you expectin’ anyone?’ steve asks curiously, sliding your head from his thigh, very cautiously getting off of the couch to answer the door.

‘no? robin, maybe?’ unless robin had turned into a rabid zombie, you were sure it probably wasn’t her on the other side.

steve peers through the peep hole, seemingly taken aback but what or whoever he sees on the other side, ‘shit..’ cursing under his breath as he slides the chain from the door, opening it just slightly.

‘what?’ petrified by his reaction, sitting up on the couch to prepare for the impending insanity on the other side.

‘jesus man.. what are you doing here?’ he’s pushed aside as what looks like one eddie munson barges through the door, gasping for air and looking worse for wear.

he’s clutching his knees, doubled over as he tries to catch his breath, ‘i fucking.. ran the whole way here..’

if you’re being honest, he looks terrible. hair limp as it hangs around his face, clothes dirtied and you can’t see his face properly but you’re sure there’s a shiner of a bruise on his cheek.

‘what are you doing? what’s wrong?’ you fret, swinging your legs over the side of the couch as steve closes the door, bolting it up again in hopes that whatever eddie was running from was not following him.

he exhales before standing up straight, wiping the sweat from his forehead, ‘i need your help.. both of you,’ looking to steve who was stood with his hand on his hip, concerned about the inevitable mess eddie had just welcomed back into your lives.

‘why? where have you been?’

the last you’d heard from him, nancy had, very reluctantly, agreed to let him stay in their couch for a few days until he got himself sorted. but they’d woken up the next morning to find that he was no longer on said couch, not a trace of him left behind. he was completely unreachable, no phone, no idea where he had escaped off to and absolutely no one had seen or heard from him.

initially it had been a frenzy to try and find him until you collectively realised that he didn’t want to be found this time. and you had to mourn him all over again.

‘steve, d’you still know how to make fakes?’ completely ignoring your question, blinking at a puzzled steve.

your eyes flit to steve, unaware that he apparently had a history in counterfeit goods. perhaps a crucial bit of information he’d glossed over there.

‘not anymore.. what the fuck do you need that for?’

‘you know anyone that does? i’m desperate man.. i- i’ll pay,’ eddie pants, ‘name your price,’ chest heaving as he stands in the middle of your living room. he felt out of place here now, stuck out like a sore thumb.

steve ponders for a second, ‘uhh.. i dunno, maybe.. what’ve you done?’ sighing softly.

‘i need to leave the country.. i fucked up.. big time,’ eyes flitting to you with a certain sadness. even now, he didn’t want to disappoint you yet it seemed to be all he could do.

‘what’ve you done?’ you press, chewing on the inside of your cheek. mind running to the worst possibly conclusion. murder wasn’t out of the equation if you were honest.

eddie runs a dirtied, ringed hand over his face, ‘you know how i’m kinda s’posed to be in jail right now?’ it was already glaringly obvious that he hadn’t been released early.

‘yeah..’

‘well, i uh- i paid some guys off, they said they could get me out.. get me away from here,’ only now is he realising how fucking stupid that sounded.

‘eddie.. what?’ you exclaim, astonished by the sheer stupidity he constantly displayed. you’d thought that maybe he’d have learnt something from jail, that was the point of it, wasn’t it? learn from your mistakes and better yourself.

‘look, it doesn’t matter.. they’re asking for more money and i don’t have it,’ he says exasperated, ‘i need to disappear.. just for a little while, til they forget about it,’ eyes steady on you, as if to seek your approval.

you blink, where was he even planning to go? were you just never going to see him again?

‘i can’t get you outta the country but.. i might have a friend that can help,’ steve’s voice pipes up, tearing your eyes from eddie to look at him.

‘how?’ you exclaim, wondering what other things he had kept secret from you.

‘my friend’s out in california.. i think he’d put you up there,’ nodding at eddie, he probably didn’t deserve this kindness but steve couldn’t just leave him stranded. there was too much history to ever turn his back on his friend, even now, after everything, he was still holding his hand out for eddie.

‘that’d be.. fuck, that’d be.. good,’ eddie nods along, appreciative of anything you could do for him. turning to meet your gaze once more.

he knows this is it.

there wasn’t any coming back from this. no next time. it was california or it was death. and he sure as shit wasn’t a fan of the second option.

you think, deep down, that you know it too.

the likelihood of seeing him again is next to nothing. if he didn’t get himself killed, he’d certainly never be coming back here. this wasn’t for him, never had been really. well, maybe once upon a time when you looked at him without that sadness in your eye it had been.

when he thought back to it, he was sure the he knew you’d never loved him, he’d just been pretending for so long that his mind had played tricks on him, made him believe it. that’s why he’d lashed out that night, he’d convinced himself that you were in love with him. but you weren’t, and his heart had realised that fact quicker than his head had.

steve disappears into your bedroom in search of his phone, leaving you two alone in the living room. everything you want to say stays unsaid. heavy as it lingers between you. there’s not really much you can say in this moment that wouldn’t make things worse.

instead, you just nod.

as if to say that he could go. he could let you go.

eddie understands. but he’s not sure he ever will.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve stranger things #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader

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seraphicalsuccubus · 3 months

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I just wanna make a post because I’ve gotten tons of worried asks about my absence and wishing I’m okay and everything (and I will answer them I promise, I do really appreciate y’all checking in on me). but this is going to be a LONG post so if you’re actually gonna read it, strap in babes.

anyways, my life has virtually become a dystopian hell and I’m not kidding you. I feel like a prisoner in my own home. I feel like I’m under house arrest because I’m just not allowed to do fucking anything anymore. I pretty much cannot leave my house, not even to get groceries. I cannot ask my roommate to pick up anything for me on her way home from work because she bitches about it and makes some excuse not to even if it’s something I desperately need. I haven’t had a single human interaction with ANYONE even my former best friend/roommate since the end of January until this week when I just fucking lost it and vented to my aunt and had her get me a dispensary order because I can’t leave my house to get one myself anymore and she came to hang out and spend some time with me and talk about everything for a couple hours. and that’s the bare bones of what’s going on. there’s so much fucking more piled to it but I’ll just give you the gist of it. I literally told my therapist that if I didn’t get the fuck out of here soon, I will probably slit my wrists and bleed out in the bathtub. like if I cannot run away and escape all this shit, I will be leaving this house in a body bag because I honestly just do not know how much more of this shit I can take.

I have been so unbelievably stressed. I have picked every tiny cut, scratch, ingrown hair, pimple, everything that could be picked open, into huge gaping wounds all over my legs and specifically, I had two tiny cat scratches on my stomach from one of my cats kneading on me and not being too gentle with her claws, and i picked those TINY cuts into gaping wounds bigger than the size of dollar coins. two of them. right next to each other. they were so bad that I thought they were legitimately going to get infected and cause me problems. but they’re finally healing and starting to scar because I HAD to bandage them. like if I did not bandage them and change the bandage twice a day, they would have become infected and been a huge problem. that’s how bad those two specifically were.

not only this, but I have also PICKED A FUCKING BALD SPOT ON MY SCALP near my widow’s peak, but thankfully it’s on the side my hair flops over from so it’s covered. but it’s still there and it makes me horribly insecure and I don’t know if it’s like a scab that’ll eventually fall off and something will grow back from it or if it’s a scar and I’ll have this bald spot forever to be insecure of and self conscious of all the time. literally only time will give me the answer to that. but I am fucking 26 years old and have picked myself to PIECES and BALD SPOTS due to stress. I am literally falling the fuck apart.

and not only that, but I was just informed that I need to be conscious and aware of the fact that I may have fucking lupus because two of my dad’s sisters have it (one confirmed diagnosis and the other a suspicion but that’s enough of a reason for me to be worried about it) and I’m too terrified to get tested or whatever to start the process of getting that diagnosis. like the one thing I’ve always been so fucking afraid of is having an autoimmune disease and my fear of that may have fucking manifested one fucking for me and I’m really struggling with the potential that I may have to deal with that, along with my other health issues and mental health issues and shit.

I just. I have been going through a REALLY rough fucking time. and I am sorry, I am so sorry for the lack of posts or explanations or not answering anyone’s asks or messages aside from the two people I talk to daily because I just mentally cannot handle conversations through all this shit, and for making anyone genuinely concerned about me because of my absence and shit. I wish I could say you shouldn’t worry, but honestly, I’m incredibly worried about myself and that reason alone should scare anyone that knows me because I’m NEVER worried about myself. I’m sorry. I wish I could say I’m okay and I’m thriving and my lack of presence on here was a GOOD thing because I’m doing well and not thinking about social media, but it’s not. it’s a very bad thing. I don’t leave my bed every day unless it’s to take care of my cats. I can’t remember the last day I actually ate a meal or even a snack. the only hydration I get is like the 3 sips of whatever I use to take my meds every morning and night. I have no drive to create content so my income has dropped SO dramatically that I am barely scraping by to pay my bills. I haven’t gamed. I haven’t caught up on any of the shows I was excited for and watching before all this. I haven’t done laundry in god only knows how long and I’m literally running out of clean clothes to wear. I literally only brush my hair before I get on FaceTime with a friend or my boyfriend, otherwise it’s a knotted mess. I’ve showered to clean my body because I feel disgusting being dirty but I have not washed my hair since I had these extensions installed. I do not have the energy to wash this much fucking hair right now. and do you know when these were installed? February 12th. I have not washed my fucking hair in over a month and I feel so fucking repulsive because of it. my hair is my pride and joy. I have such expensive quality products for it. I take care of it. I love my hair. and I cannot even find the energy to wash it when I’m already in the shower just to wash my body/face because I just am so depressed that I can’t even find the energy to do it WHILE ALREADY IN THE SHOWER. I usually go 7-10 days without washing my hair to prolong the life of my extensions and my hair dye and shit because my hair doesn’t get greasy quickly or dry so I can push it that long and just do like body wash/skincare showers in between. but it’s been over a month. over a FUCKING MONTH. since I’ve been able to find the energy to just wash my fucking hair even when I’m already in the shower. do you know how pathetic that feels?

I’m sorry this was such a heavy post. for anyone that actually read through it, I’m sorry. I’ve been internalizing a lot of this shit and this isn’t even the icing on the fucking cake. this is the bare minimum of what I’m dealing with. it’s so much more convoluted and fucked up and abusive than I’m explaining on here and I’m sorry for venting about the things that I did. but I’ll leave it there. I won’t get into the rest.

if you read this far, I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time with this long of a post just to get shit off my chest. I hope you’re having a really good day, or that your day gets better, your weekend goes well, and that you have some good karma headed your way. I wish you all the best. thank you for listening. I appreciate it. 🖤

#it’s really hard for me to make this post and admit that I am struggling so fucking bad so please be kind and considerate about all this #because if someone makes a rude remark or sends a rude ask about it I’m blocking and deleting it #I’m not even going to entertain someone trying to make me feel worse than I already feel #because I didn’t even KNOW I could feel this bad in my fucking life #so please just be kind and comfort me or just don’t say anything. please. for my sake.

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the-doomed-witch · 2 years

Text

✦ You’re An Idiot & I Love You

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Thanos, you and Wanda quit the team to live a peaceful life together, trying to leave behind the trauma. (Read warnings)

Word Count: 4.0k

Author’s Note: hello here’s another fic, i’ve been working on it since almost a week :) i cannot stop listening to 305 by shawn mendes so i based the latter part of this fic on the song <3 the initial part is just a vent fic lmao. i’m thinking of writing a part two, but i don’t really know. my gif btw!

Warnings: 18+ MINORS+MEN DNI. traumatic past events, post-war trauma, flashbacks & nightmares, smut, thigh riding, fingering, praise kink, names (princess), a little angst, fluffy | best friends to lovers

Masterlist

YOU ARE NOT PERMITTED TO REPOST OR COPY MY WORK.

— ✦ —

You hit the pause button on your phone, look at the clouds and sigh. The park near your home is an amazing place to be, with all its flora, and a clearer view of the sky. Cities are so full of buildings, it’s almost impossible to see a clear sky outside the park anymore.

Whenever anxiety comes over, sitting on the park bench and listening to white noise helps you calm down. It also helps Wanda know where to take you when you aren’t at your best.

Sometimes she would hold your hand and sit next to you, listening to the same sound in a different pair of headphones. It’s truly therapeutic for both of you. The events of the past few years have been deeply disturbing for the entire team of Avengers. So you and Wanda decided to quit the team, and swore that both of you wouldn’t never exercise your powers again. Of course, there could be exceptional cases where the use of powers is ultimately the only way, but it’s mostly nothing to do with your simple lives.

Wanda goes to a therapist sometimes, and has offered you to try it out too, several times. You just deny with a simple shake of your head, and keep the topic aside. You’re happy to see her get better, settle her unsolved traumas, and accept Vision’s death.

“I knew you’d be here.” Wanda walks up to you, which is also the reason why you clicked the pause button. You give her a sincere smile, which she returns happily.

“Guess I’ve developed a little longing for this place. I can’t help but be here, I feel the safest here when you aren’t around.”

“Oh Y/N, you know I always come back home and always will. You’re my best friend, and the only one. I’m so happy that living together has worked out for the both of us.”

“So am I, Wands. I know I don’t have to run around the compound looking for you anymore.” Smiling with melancholy, you continue, “I miss bumping into our friends while doing that.”

She sighs deeply. There are memories of Vision in her mind, but they don’t feel like a dagger anymore. They are just bittersweet feelings for a star-crossed love. “Y/N, it’s been years since we left the team. Do you think they miss us? I wish we had parted with no hard feelings.”

“I think that it’s fine. It’s been years, nothing big has happened. And I hope it only stays this way. I don’t care if someone is still pissed off after so long, the war damaged us just as it did them, and we are still recovering.”

“But Y/N… you’re just refusing it all. There’s no point in being delusional. It’s affecting you, and your mental health in a really bad way.”

“I know but I cannot help it Wanda! I have had nothing before the Avengers, I don’t even know what I am grieving for. I haven’t had anyone to go home to since forever, and now that I have it, I wouldn’t change it for anything. Not even for friends who’d have hard feelings against me after I choose to live a life post-war.” You feel like you’ve spoken too much, because you feel like tearing up.

Wanda comes closer to you and hugs you tight. “Y/N, honey, it’s okay I’m right here.”

You sit there with her, since there’s nothing else you can do right now. For several minutes, none of you loosen the grip, too scared that either of you could turn to dust.

— ✦ —

On the way back home, you hold hands like little kids. Living with your best friend has got to be the best decision you’ve ever made. Feels like she holds a key to the corner of your heart that nobody has dared to discover.

“Hey, what are you thinking?” she moves closer and sits next to you on the couch.

“Nothing, just that you’re probably my favourite person in the whole world.”

“Stop being so cheesy and tell me the truth.”

“It is the truth. I love being with you Wanda, I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/N. Your existence lights up mine. I don’t want to leave you, ever.”

You give her a kiss on the cheek, and reply, “I will not leave you, ever.” After being through all the devastating events together, you’ve both developed quite a habit of sitting together in silence and thinking. Snapping out of the state, you go to your room to sleep. Or maybe just lay down. Wanda remains in the living room.

— ✦ —

It’s almost 4:30AM and you haven’t slept. Thoughts about Thanos, his army, your teammates, Natasha, and Tony come back. Illusions of blasts, gore and doom fill up your mind. Countless number of people have lost loved ones.

Maybe, just maybe, you could have done something to save your friends. Resentment and regret feel like two old friends who come to lay down next to you.

Wanda is in her room, you can sense her sleeping. It would be a good thing to have someone to talk to, but not that great if you’d have to wake her up. Eyes open, you go back to staring at the ceiling. Tears begin pooling in the corners of your eyes, ready to roll down any moment now.

Silently, you sniff away the mildest nightmare of the night.

— ✦ —

You sit at your desk a couple of hours later, and begin writing something that you don’t know. “Good morning. You're up early?” Wanda walks in. She’s still wearing her shorts and tank top. And she looks damn fine.

“Good morning. Also, what do you mean by ‘up’?” you reply back sarcastically.

“Oh well, don’t tell me you stayed up all night. Now come here, you desperately need a morning hug.”

“You’re a hundred and ten percent correct.”

You get up and go hug her closely. She rubs your back and whispers words of reassurance in your ear. You just hold her and smell her messy hair. You’re sure she used your shampoo but it only makes you want to hug her tighter. After letting go, you look at her face adoringly and tell her sincerely, “You look pretty. So pretty.” She blushes and pushes your shoulder lightly, as a friendly gesture.

“Stop teasing me! I haven’t even had my coffee yet. I’m gonna have to sound mad at you if you make fun of me right now.”

“You think I’m joking? You look fucking gorgeous. Not even kidding, I’d kiss you if we were toge-” You regain consciousness and regret saying anything at all. Should’ve told her I’m being satirical for no reason, you think.

“What was that you said?”

“Nothing.”

“No no, you said something. Say it.”

“Uhhhh that I was making fun of you for nothing. Go tie a bun or something.”

“Did you just say that you would kiss me?”

“What?! No!”

“Okay, if you say so. I don’t trust my ears anyway.” She simply walks out of the room with an air of smugness.

During breakfast, she asks you a question you never expected, but should’ve seen coming. “But like, let’s say hypothetically, would you kiss me if I asked you to?”

You almost choke on the toast. “Wanda, let me have my breakfast in peace. Please.”

“Another question, who would you kiss? Who is your type even? I’ve literally never seen you talk about this in almost over a decade of our friendship. Come on, Y/N, there’s got to be someone.”

“No Wanda, I don’t have a type. If someone is for me, they’re for me. There’s no one that I like right now.”

Her face grew serious and her smile faltered. “You know I can read your mind if I want to, don’t you?”

“I know that. I also know you wouldn’t break a promise to know about a possible date of mine or something.”

“Fine, you win.”

— ✦ —

You’ve been in the park almost all day again. But your mind has been thinking of something else today.

Why did I even say that at all? Would I even kiss her? Would she kiss me back at all? She probably still misses Vision. She literally loved him so much, they were perfect together. No, I shouldn’t even think of this. Especially when Wanda loved Vision so much, and probably still does. But then again it’s just ‘probably’. SHUT UP Y/N.

Screw this. I don’t want to kiss her at all. Never ever.

— ✦ —

“Well you came back quickly, I didn’t even have to come to the garden to bring you back. That’s new.”

“Yeah I guess?”

“Too tempted to kiss me, aren’t you honey?”

“Can you please stop with that Wanda? I don’t even know why I said that at all. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause awkwardness between us. But you’re kind of amplifying it and it’s making me uncomfortable. Can we just not do this? You simply looked gorgeous, that’s all. And I’m not the one to kiss someone just because of how they look. Just leave this.”

“Oh-uhm, okay Y/N. I’m sorry, let’s not make anything uncomfortable for either one of us.”

Wanda seemed deeply hurt by your evidently irritated reply. For a moment, she also felt terror-stricken. It was a side of you that she had seen, but never faced before.

“Thank you. Do you need some help with dinner?”

“Nah it’s almost ready. You might want to set up the table though.”

“Most certainly.”

— ✦ —

The following week is all the same. Everything is sort of normal. Morning comes, you have breakfast with Wanda, you go to the park, Wanda comes to pick you up in the evening, you both have dinner, go back to your own rooms, and you grieve.

A parcel arrives in the mail. It’s addressed to “Y/N Maximoff” and you’re quite unsure how that feels like. Wanda takes notice of it, but says nothing. You kind of wish she’d say something about it. Wanda makes mention of going back to her chores, but you ask her, “Don’t you want to know what’s in the box? I mean, they could’ve mistaken either one of our names.”

“Not really, you can go ahead and open it.”

It was a real bummer. You feel guilty about her attitude towards you. You know something is definitely off with Wanda. You sure have had fights and arguments with her before, but none of them have made her turn away like this. You keep the box aside and decide to open it once Wanda starts talking to you again.

I mean, we are talking but you know what I mean, you tell yourself. And find it stupid. However, the rest of the day continues.

You decide against going to the dear park today, considering how pissed off Wanda already seemed. There has got to be something which could make up her mood.

“Hey Wands, you wanna watch a sitcom? It’s been a while since we sat together to watch one.”

“No Y/N, you can watch it by yourself. I’ve got some work to do.”

And in the same way, she was successful at avoiding spending time with you through any other activity. She was mad at you. You had to clear things with her as soon as possible, before she could find a hundred more reasons to be mad at you.

By the time evening arrived, all the work should definitely have been done. You did not disturb Wanda during her online work even though you’d do that normally whenever you stayed at home.

“Wanda, I need to talk to you. Please stop walking around. You aren’t even listening to me! Just wait for a few minutes. Tell me what is wrong.” You hold her hand to hold her back from leaving.

She takes a deep breath and questions you, “Why do you think something is wrong? Besides, you are the one who did not go have her nerves calmed at a park today but I didn’t go around poking in your business. Leave my hand!”

“Hey, hey take it easy. Wanda, your face literally says “I am pissed off but I want you to guess what it is about” and since I honestly cannot figure it out so I’m simply asking you. If you don’t want to tell me then nevermind. Whatever it is, I am sorry.”

“I don’t want your apologies, keep them with you. And you can go do whatever the hell you want, I don't feel like talking to you right now. Also yes, I am pissed off.” Wanda’s voice slowly rises with every word she speaks, and a little discussion transforms into a heated argument.

“Fine, if that’s what you want. I won’t talk to you and I’m not even going to speak a word around you. You can say au revoir to my voice because I’m not gonna say anything. Night!”

“Yeah, as if I wanna hear you talk. I’m tired of it anyways. Night!”

Both of you have gone to bed without having dinner. And your mind is playing with you again. Flashbacks of not only the greatest war, but also your biggest fight with your best friend till now. You can hear her words echo in your mind.

“Yeah as if I wanna hear you talk. I’m tired of it anyways.”

“You can go do whatever the hell you want.”

“Leave my hand.”

In all these years, you have never heard her asking you to stop holding her hand. It was too heartbreaking to even imagine it.

— ✦ —

Wanda doesn’t talk to you the following day. Or the one after. Or the next. No calling you for the meal, no coming to pick you up from the park, nothing. You feel like you have had enough, so you approach her directly.

“So, do you want me to move out or something?”

“No Y/N.”

“Then speak your mind Wanda, I don’t even know what’s going on.”

“‘Speak your mind’ you say? Okay, here goes nothing.”

Without hesitation, she places her hand on the back of your neck and pulls you closer. For a moment, she stares into your eyes, and then kisses you deeply. You’re feeling both surprised, and satisfied. She closes her eyes to just feel you, and you place your hands in her hair. Her lips leave a trail as they move down to your neck, you tilt your head upwards to grant her all the access she would need. Wanda bites your skin and you let out a rough moan, driving her completely crazy.

That’s when you realise. Your best friend is marking your neck and you have no idea what’s going on. You gently motion for her to stop, which, reluctantly, she complies with.

“What?”

She clearly wants to go back to the moment, so she breathlessly asks you in return, “What?”

“Wanda.”

“Y/N.” She looks at you with a grin and pecks your lips again. “Alright, fine, let me explain.”

“Yes please, because as much as I love it, I’m still clueless.”

“I just have one question, now that you know, would you ever kiss me?”

Your cheeks redden up at her question. You avoid eye contact, gulp, and reply, “If you want then yes.”

She probably wants to growl and bang her head against the wall. “WHY DON’T YOU TELL ME HOW YOU FUCKING FEEL ABOUT ME?! CAN’T YOU SEE?!”

“See what Wanda?”

“Oh my God I cannot believe this. You are an idiot and I love you so fucking much.”

“Wa-”

“Don’t you dare say another word, I hate you! You’re just acting-” You shut her up by kissing her intensely, and again, and again, and yet again.

After pulling yourself away, you need some fresh air. So you sit on the couch, and beckon Wanda to follow. As soon as you’re sat, she decides to sit on your thigh, facing you. She slips her hands inside your t-shirt and seeks your permission, “Can I?” You smile and nod back at her, giving her consent.

She unhooks your bra, and cups your breasts in her hands each. Gently, she begins stimulating them. Your shoulders relax as she helps you feel lighter. You shut your eyes as Wanda gets you all worked up.

Suddenly, she pulls out her hands. You open your eyes and frown, uncertain about what happened. Wanda rubs herself against your thigh, making you moan by feeling her wetness. “Take off your shirt.” She directs you. You do as asked, and she’s met with the sight of your bare upper body. She immediately dives in to lick and play with your nipples, as you close your eyes again. Quite occasionally, you managed to say the same two coherent words; “Oh Wanda…”

She loves seeing you this way. It’s been years since she saw you relieve your stress. She hovers on your top, and connects her lips with your lips once again.

After a long heavy make out session, you decide to consider her wetness still lingering on your thigh. Grabbing her by the hips, you guide her for a pace. She’s in her yellow cotton shorts, and probably wouldn’t mind ruining them even more for you. Her moans get louder and louder till she finally says, “Y/N I’m gonna-”

“Yes honey, do it.” was all it needed for the knot in her stomach to release as she made a mess on your thigh. You slip two fingers within her heat to help her ride it out slowly. You mutter small praises to help her stabilise herself after her climax. Words like “You’re such a good girl” and “You did so well, princess” clearly had an effect on her. When you’re done and you pull out your hand from her dripping cunt, you let Wanda have a seat beside you.

She keeps on breathing heavily, but then looks at the sight of you licking your fingers clean. It was irrestitable for her, she had to pull you into a deep kiss. It was evident — she loved kissing you, whether it was a cute peck, a make out session, or just her catching her breath.

“Let me return the favour detka.” She requests you. You feel like it isn’t really necessary, but you don’t feel like breaking the moment so you let her do it. She pulls down your shorts, and begins teasing you over the panties with her fingers. You arch your back and groan, “Wanda please don’t-” So she bends and kisses your clothed core once before helping you strip off.

Slowly, she pushes in a finger, then adds another one. You spontaneously grasp her shoulders, which perturbs her. So she withdraws her fingers and looks at you tenderly and asks, “Y/N, are you really okay with this?”

“It’s just that… it’s been so long since I have…”

“Hey, I understand. If you want me to stop I can stop right away. You are always my first priority.”

“No, I want this Wanda. Everything feels so right, after so long.”

She slowly kisses you again, and this time not leaving out a single space she hasn’t discovered yet. Before you could do anything, she filled your intimacy with her fingers yet again. It’s an agonisingly slow pace, and it makes you shudder underneath her. “You look so gorgeous Y/N. You’re the most beautiful person I know, inside and out.” You can only breathe heavily in response because you’re (i) speechless, (ii) cuntful.

Gradually, she picks up the speed for you. Echoes of your pants and screams fill the room, and Wanda is enjoying every single bit of it. Soon enough, you were ready for your release. You try to warn her, but she understands your signal and whispers gently, “Come for your princess, Y/N.” It was all you needed to make a mess all over her fingers. She rides you through it as your elevated heartbeat goes back to normal.

She watches you with affection, and moments later you return Wanda’s gaze. She sits beside you again, and you both are in a familiar comfortable silence all over again. You decide to break it and bring up the previous conversation, “So… I guess I love you too? You’re the idiot by the way.”

“What do you mean that you guess? If you want to play the game then don’t forget you’re the naked one here and I can tease you really bad.”

“Oh really princess?” You wink at her and shift closer to her. She wraps her arm around you and says, “Let’s get a little cleaned up. I’m feeling a little hungry.”

You innocently ask her, “What do you want to eat?” but her mind is already running towards the wrong places. She swallows and replies, “A cup of green tea would do for me right now, would you like one?” You shake your head in the positive and get up.

— ✦ —

You two sit on the balcony to have the green tea. It’s late at night and the city is asleep. Your mind stares at the dark sky, still not quite visible because of the buildings. Wanda looks towards you the same time you look at her, she’s smiling. “Look at the moon Y/N!” She points towards it. Your gaze stays fixed on Wanda.

“I am looking at her. She’s breathtaking.”

— ✦ —

The following morning was enchanting as ever. You wake in Wanda’s arms, who is already lying awake next to you, waiting for you. “Good morning detka,” she whispers, “I hope you had a nice sleep.”

Morning laziness takes over you, so you hug her tightly and hum. She giggles and rubs your back with her hand, indicating for you to not doze off again. You groan, “I feel like I've slept after years, probably the first time ever.”

“It’s because you are sleeping for the first time in years. I love seeing you like this, but you need to wake up lyubov.”

“Fine, but you have to answer my question.”

“Go ahead.”

“What were you mad about, yesterday and before that?”

She hides her face behind your shoulder. “It’s stupid.” You hold her chin softly and tilt her head so she’s facing you. She sighs.

“Fine. I just didn’t realise how badly I’ve ever wanted to kiss you until you accidentally said that you’d kiss me if we were together. I’ve never been around someone who I could sit together with, listening to some white noise, and feel at home with. Hell, I’ve never been with anyone who could tell me they love me with my morning face. And then you backed off by acting all I-would-never-kiss-you so I was just a little pissed off. I’m sorry. You see, it’s stupid.”

“It isn’t, you’re just an idiot in love with another idiot. Also, don’t you dare say anything about your morning face. Your freckles, your faded accent, your natural hair - my goodness Wanda, I’d seriously kiss you if we were together.” You place little pecks all over her face, making her chuckle. “I love you Wanda.”

“And I love you Y/N.”

You hear the doorbell ring out of the blue. Against your will, you had to get up and open the door. There’s the mail for the day - a few bills, and a small box, addressed to “Y/N Maximoff” again.

You call Wanda outside the room. When she comes next to you, you ask her, “This is the second box. What do you think it is?” She arches her eyebrows suspiciously and takes the box away from you to keep it next to the bowl of keys. “We can find that out later.” she says before kissing your neck.

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maargamindcare1 · 1 month

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healthgennie · 6 months

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How to Cope with Mental Illness in Teens?

Managing mental illness in teenagers requires a comprehensive and supportive approach that involves the collaboration of parents, educators, best mental health therapist, and the teens themselves. Here are some strategies to help manage mental illness in teens:

Open Communication:

Encourage open and honest communication. Create a safe space for teens to express their thoughts and feelings without judgment.

Dynamically listen to their anxieties and confirm their emotions. Avoid dismissing their feelings, even if they seem trivial.

Seek Professional Help:

Consult with mental health professionals, such as psychologists, psychiatrists, or therapists, who specialize in working with adolescents.

Consider a combination of therapy (individual, family, or group) and, if necessary, medication under the guidance of a qualified healthcare provider.

Educate Yourself:

Learn about the specific mental health condition affecting your teen. Understanding the symptoms, triggers, and treatment options can help you provide better support.

Attend workshops or support groups to connect with other parents facing similar challenges.

Encourage Healthy Lifestyle Choices:

Encourage regular exercise, a balanced diet, and appropriate sleep. Physical well-being is carefully connected to mental health.

Discourage substance use, as drugs and alcohol can exacerbate mental health issues.

Establish Routine:

Create a consistent daily routine, including regular meal times, adequate sleep, and designated study or relaxation periods. Predictability can provide a sense of stability.

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Monitor Screen Time:

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Teach Coping Skills:

Help your teen develop healthy coping mechanisms for stress, such as mindfulness, deep breathing, or creative activities.

Encourage them to express themselves through writing, art, or other forms of self-expression.

Advocate for Your Teen:

Work with schools to ensure that appropriate accommodations and support are in place.

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virescent-v · 6 months

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Hello! As someone who struggled with a SH Addiction…as wild as it sounds. I was wondering if you could do Reader(Sh Addiciton) is clean but had urges again and is struggling to fight them with Emily helping them? It would help me as someone whose struggling rn lol

Siren Call

A/N: Hi lovie, I tried my best with this. I have struggled with depression since my teenage years, and suicide ideations throughout that time. To be transparent, I've never dealt with self-harm. I hope I managed to capture those feelings for you and do this justice.

To anyone reading this: Check the trigger warnings. Protect yourself. Please reach out if you're struggling. You're not alone and the world is better with you in it. <3

SAMHSA's National Hotline: 1-800-662- 4357, or text your zip code to 435748 for help near you.

Warnings: Mentions of self-harm/cutting, mentions of razors. It's not very graphic imo, but again, protect yourself if these are not things you feel okay reading.

Word Count: 1.4k

It was a rollercoaster of emotion flowing through you. Ups and downs and turns that you could hardly keep up with. Numbness, but at the same time, a devastating whirlwind of thought. You weren’t sure how you could feel so empty but so full of emotion at one time, but you were.

The depression was not new, a thing carried along with you every day from your adolescence, like a shadow or a tumor. Always there, sometimes bothersome, sometimes silent, and just waiting for a moment to shatter any progress you’ve made.

Everyone you’ve talked to has dealt with their mental health differently; therapy, medications, denial. And, sometimes, those did work for you. You met with your therapist once a week (less, if you couldn’t afford it), you were on your third antidepressant, and you tried so hard to ignore how your mind betrayed you.

The one thing that was consistent, that always helped with the emotions coursing through you, was physically releasing them.

The first time you cut yourself, you were sixteen. You’d only learned about it from the darker corners of the internet, a place you shouldn’t have been. Too young, too impressionable. But, the first slice of the razor against the skin of your thigh felt good. As the skin tore apart from itself, as the blood oozed from the wound, all of your negative feelings went too.

With each drop of blood, you felt the freedom from doubt, worry, anger, sadness. Each cut brought a feeling of euphoria, the dopamine replacing all of the emotions that were burying you.

It was a habit that continued throughout your teenage years, and even early twenties. When the destructive thoughts got too much, the razor was there to bring color back into your life. But, as you got older, you got smarter, more diligent in the way those terrible thoughts would creep into your mind, suffocating the joy from you. You learned better coping mechanisms, learned how to manage the craving of the sharpness of a blade against your fragile skin.

But still, the release would call to you, a siren of a dreadful sea you did not want to be a voyager on.

On such nights, when the waves of despair rocked you too roughly, your girlfriend Emily was usually there to distract you, a life preserver to stop you from drowning.

Unfortunately, Emily wasn’t always there. Her job was demanding, important, much more important than your broken brain. Which made tonight, a particularly rough night, hard for you.

Everything seemed to be weighing down on you, going wrong, unavoidable mishap after mishap. The shadows seemed to wrap themselves around your brain, spindly fingers digging their claws in with no sign of letting go.

The siren call beckoned, a melodious tune that pulled you in, easing the racing thoughts in your mind.

You stood in front of your bathroom mirror, the reflection in front of you hardly recognizable. Your skin pallor, dry, dark under your eyes. You licked around your chapped lips, feeling the fuzziness of your unbrushed teeth. Your clothes hung off of your body, loose from multiple days of wear. Unkempt hair, a tangled mess atop your head. You looked as rough as you felt, the lack of sleep and self-care exacerbating your inner turmoil.

Taking a shaky breath, you looked down at your hands, the newly purchased razor blade sitting in the box. Pretty, new, waiting for use. You imagined the shine of the blade against your skin, how the silver would contrast the uneven, blotchy shade of you. How the deep red hemoglobin would look, how it would bring color back to you.

The call got louder.

As you were about to tear open the box, a single word, a single thought, broke through the haze of your mind.

Emily.

The cacophony of noise halted. You knew that she wouldn’t be disappointed. She’s the only one who ever really understood this habit, this… addiction. Understood how the silence and the noise bantered back and forth in a way that was sensory overload, how sometimes the only way to get it to stop was to cut. To feel something else.

While she wouldn’t be disappointed, you could imagine the look on her face, how her eyes would hold all of her thoughts. She’d get you through it, she always has, but sometimes her looks haunted you more than your own thoughts did.

Instead, you picked up the phone.

It rang twice; she never sent you to voicemail unless she absolutely could not answer.

“Baby?” She whispered. You’d woken her up. “Everything okay?”

You tried to talk. The air was trapped in your lungs, the only noise escaping you a hollow breath, a crushed whimper.

You could hear Emily sit up in bed, the click of a lamp. “Love? Answer me.” Her voice was more alert, commanding, an edge of fear.

You swallowed hard. Your breath coming quicker, everything threatening to rush out of you. “Em,” another shaky whimper, a plea.

“Take a breath for me, sweetheart. You’re okay. I’m right here.” You could hear the rustling of clothes being pulled on.

The box in your hands rattled as it fumbled onto the bathroom sink, your trembling hands unable to hold it. Another thing you couldn’t do your mind hissed at you.

“I can’t - can’t ma-make it s-stop.” You forced the words out, stumbling them into each breath you inhaled.

“I’m coming, baby. Stay on the phone with me. You’re okay.” A car door slammed, the engine roaring to life. A siren.

“Listen to me. I’ll be right there. Listen to my voice.” Emily continued to talk, walking you through the case she was working on. How the weather was. Her favorite movie. Nonsensical ramblings to keep you focused on her. You’d grunt occasionally in response, a way to ensure her you were still listening, still there.

Your vision tunneled, black around the edges, as your grip on the sink tightened. You could feel the rush of blood through your body in your ears, your limbs starting to tingle as the numbness started.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before you heard the front door slam, hasty footsteps through the hallway. A hand covering yours.

Emily turned your body towards hers, her hands cupping your cheeks, trying to bring your eyes to hers.

You felt paralyzed, stuck in a mud so thick and deep you couldn’t move. You tried to focus on Emily’s voice, the rubbing of her thumbs across your cheekbones. You tried to blink, tried to get your eyes to focus.

Noticing that she wasn’t getting through to you, Emily wrapped you in the tightest hug she could, squeezing you as hard as her arms could handle. A way to help calm down your overactive nervous system, as if she was trying to transfer your energy to her.

Eventually the shaking calmed down, the pins and needles in your limbs still pushing and pulling, beating to the accelerated pace of your heart. You were finally able to look at Emily, her eyes shining in worry, but also protectiveness. A lighthouse in a stormy sea.

She tucked your hair behind your ear, checking over your body for signs of harm. Finding none, seeing the unopened box on the counter, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Let's go lay down, love.”

She all but dragged you to bed, shoving you under the covers before turning off the overhead light. She walked back into the bathroom, presumably to get rid of the box of razors.

Your eyes remained closed the entire time, listening to her fiddle around with things in your bedroom, the sound of her jeans hitting the carpeted floor before she joined you in bed. Her strong, warm arms wrapped around you, pulling you close to her, your head on her chest.

Her hands traversed your body, as if taking note of each inch of your scarred, but intact skin. She paid extra attention to your previous cuts, the scars healed and raised and pink, a testament of your ability to withstand. Each line a reminder that you made it. That while the emotion swelled over you, overtook you, that you came out on the other side stronger.

“Sleep, love. I’ll be here. We can talk about it in the morning.”

All at once, exhaustion engulfed you. You settled more into Emily, breathing in her perfume, realizing at once that she was your saving grace, your protector. You were capable of overcoming anything with her at your side.

Slowly, as you started to drift off to sleep, the blacks and grays of the shadows disappeared, replaced by a kaleidoscope of colors. Emily’s steady heart lulled you into a sense of comfort. In her arms, the noises and silence settled, the siren call faded into a calming ebb and flow of waves. What was once a tumultuous, dark and violent sea became a mellow, sparkling tide. With Emily, you were home and you were safe from the shadows that haunted you.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss fanfic #virescent v fanfic #emily prentiss fanfiction #please please please reach out if you are struggling #it does get better i promise #ngl i do not like how i ended this but i wanted to get it out #also sorry for all of the water metaphors??? im a pisces lmao

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