venting through fiction

🌪️Trigger warning for most content! 18+ MDNI 🔒 🧸Requests open I love to read ur comments the most💗

[traumadumpwriter]

My messy Masterlist <3

Outer banks Masterlist

My Moodboards & Video Edits

Wizarding World:

Fred Weasley:

Accident - Fred finds out that the sneaking suspicions he had about you are true.

Decay - You relapse onto an old, bad habit. Fred - whilst still mourning the loss of his brother - is far less understanding than he used to be.

James Potter:

Unrequited - Whilst suffering from an eating disorder, the reader’s change in habits catch the attention of none other than James Potter - one of her best friend’s and unfortunately her crush.

Sirius Black:

Loving you Hurts - After spending years locked away in Azkaban, the man that you thought was the love of your life suddenly escapes, leaving you reeling as his potential reemergence into your life opens up old wounds and brings old friends back into your life. (Slight Remus Lupin X Reader also)

Haunted - Sirius had suspected that Y/N was hiding something from him and the rest of their friendship group ever since they'd gotten back from Christmas break, he just had no idea how bad that thing was.

Old Habit - You’re absolutely and utterly devoted to your fiancé; Sirius Black. It would all be perfect, if not for the old habit that seemingly can’t stop coming back to haunt you.

Miscellaneous:

Peaky Blinders - John Shelby:

Freedom 📖- An extremely traumatised woman finds herself tangled up in the lives of the Shelby's again and through John's love is able to find some peace. Though that peace can never last long.

The Maze Runner - Newt:

Memory Games 📖 - A girl is sent into the Glade, lost and confused like everyone else but maybe even more so - having to deal with the peril of being the only woman in such a space, the hidden scars on her body, the gaps in her memories, and the fact that she even has any memories at all.

One direction - Harry Styles:

Honey what’d you take? - Whilst on tour with Harry and the rest of One direction, your boyfriend’s behaviour becomes unrecognisable and you relapse into an old drug habit.

[gross99]

I let my guard down for the first time in years and fell in love and he’s not even broken up with me.. he just aired me for over three days… he has a bunch of my stuff… I’ve literally not left my bed except to pee for over 48 hours all I can do is cry I haven’t felt devastated and heartbroken and confused like this in so long… I can’t ever let myself get soft for a man again, they always hurt me so badly. My first relationship in four years and my last for at least another four. I can’t take this. I hurt so bad. I’ve been trying so hard to not hurt myself and all I can do is take Valium and smoke and drink and even that isn’t enough to keep me asleep. I haven’t eaten or gone longer than a couple hours without sobbing. Literally four days ago he was telling me how much I matter to him. I don’t understand what I did so wrong

[traumadumpwriter]

Genuinely I need some help or advice right now I can’t function as a human at all

[traumadumpwriter]

Memory Games - 18

Newt × Female OC 🐰

A dark Maze Runner romance between a very damaged girl and our soft boy Newt. With trigger warnings for self harm, abuse, assault, PTSD, mentions of suicide and general violence. Also written in the style of multiple POVs.

"All that was clear was that they were all boys - all of them - and it filled me with even more dread, instinctually defensive and fearful of the opposite sex. Even if I couldn't remember anything specific about where I'd come from, I knew that men were dangerous."

All interaction is appreciated! Reblogging is allowed! I take requests! <3

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*Angel’s POV*

For the next few days after my nightmarish batch of latest memories, my sleep was dreamless, but it somehow didn't make me feel any better. I had flashes of joy - mostly as a direct result of Newt - but I was largely only able to focus on the memories. The worst one was Minho's terrified scream and I had decided not to tell him about the memory, though it was making being around him slightly difficult. I'd left dinner early every night, and fallen asleep before Newt could even join me in bed - completely exhausted by the act of being fine.

Awaking next to him was extremely comforting though. It was my favourite part of every day - the brief few minutes in which everything felt golden. I would think of the kiss and blush, feel that I should address it, know that I should tell him about my feelings. But whenever the chance to arose, I found that my throat swallowed my voice and the haunting vision of him rubbing my back as I was throwing up blood would plague my mind again.

Had I been a burden in our past life? Would I just end up being a burden again? Was the right thing for me to do, to keep at least some distance between us? I didn't want to do that at all and I felt selfish for it. And I wasn't doing a very good job at it either, given our close proximity every night.

The final nail in the coffin of not saying a thing, was that Newt had also said nothing. If it were something that he truly wished to address, wouldn't he have?

I was wondering exactly that as I cleaned my wrist one morning. The wound had mostly closed over now and so any relief from the stinging had been minimised - which was irritating. A part of me screamed out to reopen the wound and start the healing process all over again, but I was able to suppress that urge thanks to the presence of Jeff and Clint - who were unknowingly great distractions to my emotional turmoil.

Patrick came in with the tip of his finger again - which had not taken well to the reattachment - and therefore needed to be discarded whilst the open wound on the remaining finger would be cauterised. I was not envious of that type of pain, although Patrick gritted his teeth and hardly moaned, the sound of the hot iron sizzling against soft flesh gave away how much it must've hurt - even with the painkillers, which were mostly made up on herbs. The harder stuff was apparently saved for “real emergencies” - things I didn’t even want to imagine. Jeff collected a bucket of cold water for Patrick to put his hand into after it was done, and the slicer collapsed beside it with a deep exhale.

For a split second as I watched his hunched and shaking back, I saw the silhouette of Minho cowering from the monster, and then the silhouette of myself projecting blood into a metal bowl. I was unsure of which terrified me more.

With the attention no longer focused so intensely on Patrick's wound, Jeff seemed to notice my slight step back and the sudden, sickly paleness in my face, and he paced over to me with eyes full of concern.

"Are you okay?" He whispered, probably assuming that this whole thing had made me squeamish for some reason.

I swallowed and accidentally shook my head, but spoke more confidently than I thought I'd be able to.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Just need a drink."

Jeff looked as if he was about to run out of the room again and so I quickly put my hand on his forearm to stop him.

"It's okay. I'll get it." I spoke with a grateful smile, and then I hurried out of the room.

The homestead was mostly empty, though I could hear chatter and bustling from the kitchen, so I was relieved not to have to face anyone as I trodded down the stairs. Pained silhouettes kept flashing behind my eyes, and an uncomfortable ache grew in my arms. Only when I got outside to the sinks and felt a cool breeze drift across my skin, did I start to feel normal again - very slowly. I hadn't even realised how out of breath I was until I felt my lungs fully expand and beg for air against the pressure of my rib cage.

The sun was out and brighter than it had been for the past few days, and the feeling of its warmth on the back of my neck was kind. My cupped hands cradled cold water to my lips, allowing beads of it to drip from my chin and onto my shirt. I focused hard on focusing solely on those sensations until my mind stopped racing with unwanted images, although I could still feel them prodding against the back of my head - I would deal with them later. One way or another, even if I had to hurt myself.

After another moment of collecting myself, I stood up straight and wiped the water from my chin with my sleeve. I was unaware of how long I'd been at the sinks; it felt like at least fifteen minutes but I knew logically it could've been no more than five. For a second, I thought that I might need another minute as a glance at the yellow orb in the sky suddenly reminded me of the scorching desert in my dreams, but I instantly swallowed it down and forced myself to walk into the homestead - with the plan of immediately returning to my duty as if everything was fine.

Then Gally appeared, stood with his arms crossed at the bottom of the stairs as if he'd been waiting for me. His expression was displeased as usual, but his eyes had the strange spark of intrigue that seemed to ebb and flow from his demeanour as unpredictably as the day to day weather.

"Angel, just wait- Alby said you've seen more- had another dream. I need to speak to you about it." Gally put his arm out before I could shove past him. His tone was suspiciously anxious and I thinned my eyes. What could we have to speak about?

But then I remembered. He'd seen the grievers too. Actually seen them. Not just in some confusing vision, but actually been in physical contact with one - been stung by one. The thought of one of those creatures touching me was enough to send a shiver down my spine, and suddenly Gally's distrustful behaviour didn't seem so unjustified.

I let my posture relax slightly as I met his eyes again, and I thought of how well I'd got on with him for those few days that we had almost been friends.

"Yeah... I saw some pretty messed up stuff... but I have to get back to work. We can talk after." I finally responded, awkwardly.

"I just spoke to Clint. He said I can borrow you for fifteen minutes." Gally was quick to stop me from walking away again, the intrigue in his eyes seeming more like desperation for a second, then he whispered "Alby said that you saw a Griever" and I understood why.

Because now I was the only other person in the Glade who had... and that was somewhat my fault.

So I went into the deadheads with Gally and relayed to him the worst things that I'd seen; knowing that he couldn't use them against me this time and actually somewhat relieved by his understanding. I mentioned the fact that I'd heard his voice in amongst the rabble of angry words when I'd been throwing up blood, but he was certain that he had no memory of being there or of ever meeting me before - though he believed the entire story. He understood the sickening fear that the vision of the Griever had caused me, listened with patience and then recounted his own terrifying experience in vivid detail - evidently seeing it as freshly as if it had too been a very recent occurrence.

"Well, shit." He sighed a long time after our allotted fifteen minutes had passed "I guess I best go get you a jug of one of my specials to share with your friends, I know you don't wanna drink it with me."

I smiled and looked up at him in surprise.

"Really? What the bloody hell have I done to earn this kindness?"

"Survived this long." He replied plainly, then added with a scoff "Not killed yourself after seeing all of that. Especially given the state of your arm.. I'm actually more surprised now that I think about it... How's that looking, by the way?"

I didn't even hesitate to show the scar to him, for some reason certain that he wouldn't overreact to the sight of it. As I spoke, he just stared and said nothing, with an expression that was impossible to read. Not judgement, not disappointment, maybe some kind of displeasure?

"Been cleaning it everyday. It was pretty bad at first but Clint says I don't even really need to clean it anymore."

He nodded, still looking at my arm. His eyes wandered from the marks to the tattoos, and for a second I saw a spark of amusement. He rolled up his trouser leg and presented his ankle to me unexpectedly, which I realised also had a tattoo on it - a star in the shaky, uneven lines that matched the one on my upper thigh.

I didn't even need to say it out loud, Gally seemed to already know - the style of our dotted, black lines matched, and whoever had tattooed me, had done it to him too.

"We match." I gestured to the spot on my thigh where my star was with a grin, and he grinned back.

"I had a feeling we did."

At the end of the workday, Gally walked into the medhut with a glass jug filled with his home-brewed liquor. As soon as the cork was popped I could smell it; fruity and sour, and myself, Clint, Jeff and Patrick each took a shot before leaving the room to head to dinner. Gally helped me to carry the heavy jug, lifting it from my arms into one of his hands and walking over to my usual spot with me. No one else was there yet, but I had no doubt that practically all eyes would've been on us - jealous of the gifted liquor and confused by the seeming friendship between Gally and I. I wondered how Newt would react; if he would make jealous assumptions or not.

"I never do this, by the way. So you better be grateful." Gally's gruff voice in my ear made me jump from that trail of thoughts, and I smiled gratefully at the tall lad before watching him walk away.

For the first time since receiving my latest batch of unpleasant memories, I didn't feel so devastatingly alone.

*Newts POV*

I struggled not to stare at Gally as he marched past me, having just delivered a jug of his liquor to Angel in front of practically the entire Glade. A big part of me wanted to hiss and point my finger; to ask him what the hell he was up to. But I knew that even giving him that acknowledgment would just fuel his ego. He already knew that Angel had become the best way to get under my skin, I didn't need to let him exploit that further.

Angel was visibly pleased to see me, and she merrily handed out the drink to our entire group, but there was still something not quite right about her demeanour. Since her most recent memory revelation, I'd noticed that her movements appeared more tight again; probably her muscles being stiffened from subconscious fear. Her pupils sometimes darted around and her laugh sounded slightly different - less natural. Today, there was less of that, but it was still present.

"Grievers change everyone, even without a sting." I thought, trying not to be bitter as I watched Angel drink more and more.

I partook and played my part; joking and drinking with everyone, but as the evening drew on and our small group became merrier, I found it increasingly more difficult to keep my mind from my frustrations. Angel and Ben were engaged in playful bickering, whilst Minho, Frypan, Jeff and Zart egged them on. She was smiling with drunken delight over his ridiculous insults, and I couldn't help but smile too, but then Ben delivered a line that hit right at what I was trying to ignore.

"Why would Gally even give you a whole jug, you must've sucked him off in the deadheads or something."

I knew that if everyone else wasn't so drunk, they wouldn't have scoffed and chuckled in the way that they did. Angel would've hissed a savage remark and maybe even have slapped Ben. Someone would've looked at me, and noticed my clenched teeth.

Instead, Angel snorted and replied slickly back "You would know all about sucking people off in the deadheads now, wouldn't you?" which caused another eruption of laughter.

"Well you didn't deny it." Ben shrugged, cheeks slightly pink but still grinning.

"Obviously, I didn't do that. So you can stop thinking about Gally's penis now." She tutted, ending her sentence with a giggle before pouring herself another shot.

The bottle was passed around, each of us taking another shot after one another, creating a break in the laughter until Frypan smacked his lips and spoke.

"Nah but for real, why the hell would he give you this? It’s not even a bad batch."

Everyone else hummed in agreement; of the question and the statement. It really wasn't a bad batch. That didn't diminish the spitting jealousy I could feel festering in my stomach; the paranoia of Ben's crude jest. Then, Angel’s eyes finally flickered onto mine, holding my gaze for a heavy, uncertain moment in which I knew that she knew that I was jealous - which for some reason made the feeling worse. Then, she confidently resumed with what I knew was a lie.

"I don't know, no reason, just because I'm super cool, I guess."

It was because she'd seen a griever.

"You sure nothing happened in those woods?" Ben teased and she rolled her eyes with a smile.

Why would she smile at that?

"Totally sure."

"Well then, Sir Newtus-" Ben turned to me unexpectedly, widely grinning. "I think someone's trying to move onto your girl."

I expected Angel to deny being 'my girl' in an instance, then I expected myself to, but both of us said nothing. There was a moment of silence. Her eyes met mine again, the anticipation in them illuminated by the orange flames between us, and I cleared my throat before fixing my lips into an unbothered sneer.

"Good luck with that."

I poured myself another shot as everyone hooted and snickered, except for Angel. She furrowed her brows for a split second, as if confused or angry, then scoffed.

Minho shot a look between her and I, and then quickly said "Hey, why don't we play a drinking game?" Which seemed to distract everyone enough to change the subject.

Although there was now an undeniable tension across the fire, and I watched as the jug was handed back around to Angel, who poured herself another shot and swallowed it without flinching.

It wasn't long after that, that Jeff, Frypan and Zart became too drunk to function and had to be carried off to bed. Ben was bordering on being in that state, and Minho and Angel were only a few levels below that. I wanted to go to bed. Even with the flowing conversation, the tension between Angel and I had hardly melted, and I was finding the whole situation increasingly more irritating. But I didn't dare to leave her alone - especially not in this state.

And it wasn't even because I didn't trust Minho or Ben. It was because with each shot that had raced past my lips, the pit of jealousy in my stomach had violently expanded, and I'd started to wonder if she would kiss them as she had me. When I looked at Minho to consider this, I couldn't help but laugh out loud. He was vacantly staring at the fire cross eyed and with spit hanging from his lip. When he realised that I was laughing at him, he looked up at me and let out a huge belch, which only made us both laugh more. We turned to Angel and Ben, to see their reactions, but they were both deeply engaged in a conversation that I hadn't expected to hear - that made me feel guilty for my internal possessiveness just moments prior.

"I feel bad about Nick... I know he was your friend..."

"Don't feel bad. It's not your fault he reacted like that.. That- That wasn't right."

"I still shouldn't have been such a bitch."

"Maybe... But you're lucky he didn't kill you.. I'm surprised he didn't manage to."

Angel's hand reached up to touch her neck, which still displayed faded purple and red finger marks.

"Yeah... He was huge... I could've worn one of his tops as a floor length gown."

"What's that?" Ben asked with a hiccup.

"Like a long, fancy dress. Something that a princess would wear, I guess."

Ben snorted.

"Why don't you? Let's go get one."

Angel smiled uncertainly.

"Are you sure?"

"Might as well. Waste of material at this point."

And so they stumbled towards the homestead without even turning to address myself or Minho, giggling and shushing each other under the light of the moon, no doubt going to awaken a few Gladers with their whisperings. I watched them until they disappeared into the building, and I stayed watching the entrance - even as Minho and I spoke.

"You don't need to worry about him, or Gally for that matter. You must know that by now, right?" He said lowly.

"I don't know anything for certain about anyone or anything, especially not Angel. I mean - that's not even her real name."

"You say that like it's her fault." He glared and I sighed guiltily.

"I know it's not. I just... I don't know. She's messing with my head a bit, to be honest mate."

"So you're admitting that there's something going on with you two."

I could hear the pinch of a smirk in his voice and I quickly replied "No" then backtracked "Okay, kind of... I'm not sure. It's weird... In her memories, she thinks that we.. we might've been together.. she remembered some more stuff-" I cut myself off, a sudden image of what had apparently happened to Minho appearing in my mind.

I broke my eyes away from the homestead to face him, feeling a sudden rush of immense relief for his current wellbeing.

"It doesn't matter anyway." I continued with a dry smile. "It's not allowed. It shouldn't be allowed... And there's bigger things to worry about, way bigger than some feelings about a girl."

"Say that all you want, the whole Glade thinks you're in love with her." He also smiled dryly, then his tone went more serious "And if the next Greenie isn't another girl, half of them are probably going to try shooting their shots."

This was something that I had known in the back of my mind, but his words still shocked me. I felt my shoulders tense up again and I turned back to face the homestead, which Ben and Angel had emerged out of, still stumbling, bumping into each other and giggling. Only now, Angel was wearing the baggy, white, runner's t-shirt that had belonged to Nick, and no trousers underneath.

The bottom of the tee reached to just above her knees and the sleeves hung past her elbows. It was comically large, but it still somehow fit her like a dress - the light wind causing the thin material to wrap slightly around her contours, and for the bottom of it to sway, occasionally revealing an inch higher on her leg.

I couldn't tear my eyes from her, even knowing that she could see my staring, and that she was so unaware of the hidden, lecherous glares from those few still quietly awake. I should've been looking out for them, but all I could think about was how feminine she looked, and how badly I wanted to touch her legs.

And if I was thinking that, then I didn't want to know what some of the other lads might've been thinking.

[traumadumpwriter]

Memory Games - 6

Newt X Female OC🐰

A dark Maze Runner romance between a very damaged girl and our soft boy Newt. With trigger warnings for self harm, abuse, assault, PTSD, mentions of suicide and general violence. Also written in the style of multiple POVs.

"All that was clear was that they were all boys - all of them - and it filled me with even more dread, instinctually defensive and fearful of the opposite sex. Even if I couldn't remember anything specific about where I'd come from, I knew that men were dangerous."

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Chapter Six

*Angel’s POV*

My dreams were pleasant for the first time since I'd arrived in the Glade. No confusing visions of sterile rooms, vacant deserts and distressed shouting. Instead, it was Newt's grinning face and a field of green that complimented my slumber. I couldn't remember the specifics of the dream, other than his voice gently saying "My beautiful angel" and as I thought of it it made my stomach flutter.

I was surprised when I woke up to hear noise outside, my last two mornings being relatively silent and calm, and when I looked up and saw the sun beaming through the window, I realised that I must've slept in late.

"Shit. No slacking. I better get up." I thought, jumping out of bed and to the window, seeing the movement of many boys outside. It was then that I heard a knock at the door, followed by a deep voice saying "Wake up Greenie. You're with the track-hoes today."

I recognised it as Alby's voice, although we'd hardly spoken, and I was slightly confused as to why he was the one greeting me and not Newt. That confusion was quickly squashed by excitement though as I remembered that Newt was a track-hoe, meaning I'd be spending the day with him.

"Sorry. One second." I called through the door, pulling on a shirt and brushing my fingers through my hair before opening it.

"Morning." I smiled and Alby smiled back, a real one unlike the one of false comfort he'd given me before.

"Morning Greenie. Can I stop calling you that yet?"

I thought for a moment before giving my answer. I still hadn't remembered my name, and I had a horrible feeling that it wouldn't ever come, and so in a split second I decided to keep the name that Newt had gave me. I wasn't sure if it really suited me, especially given I was the only one who knew about the marks under my clothes, but the way it made me feel was nice - soothing even. And I trusted Newt's judgment for some reason, really trusted it.

"Yeah.. my name is Angel." I answered and he nodded.

"Well it's a nice name.. suits you." He smiled, and then his tone went more serious. "Jackson is coming out of the pit today. I doubt he- or anyone for that matter- will try to harm or bother you again, but just to be safe I'm going to ask that you avoid being alone for the time being. I, or Newt, or any other trustworthy Glader of your choosing will be around to escort you from place to place. Is that okay?"

I felt a pang of anxiety at his words, thinking back on Jackson's harsh touch and predatory gaze, but nodded confidently. I didn't like the idea of being 'escorted' everywhere, especially by two people who were seemingly so busy already, but I wasn't going to disagree.

"Yeah, that's fine. Sorry for being such an inconvenience." I said to which he shook his head with a smile.

"Nonsense Angel, you're no inconvenience. I'm sorry that it has to be this way. I promise that most of the lads here have no problem following the rules, there are just a few to look out for."

He then lead me downstairs to the kitchen, where the line was now pretty short as it seemed most Gladers had started their day at work. Frypan was hurriedly pouring soup into the bowls being handed to him before sending each boy off, his voice scolding despite his face bearing its usual grin.

"What you doing up so late Greenie, I thought you were an early bird." He teased at me, taking my bowl from my hands.

"I thought I was too. Maybe I'm not." I smiled back, taking my bowl back from him once it was filled and then waiting for Alby.

"Thank you, Frypan." He smiled sincerely and the shorter boy saluted, earning a chuckle from the leader. "Greenie's got a name now by the way, it's Angel."

"Well why didn't you say? Suits you good. I'll see you later, Angel."

"See you later." I smiled, secretly chuffed by both his and Alby's reaction to the name.

Maybe it does suit me.

"You know where the garden is I take it?" Alby asked and I nodded, gesturing to the large patch across the field. I could see Newt, Zart and some other boys leant over something, their faces marked with concentration.

"Yeah. You don't need to escort me there. I'll be fine." I chuckled and he nodded, waving me off.

I sipped on the soup from my bowl as I made my way over, the flavour unimpressive but edible. A few eyes turned to me and I saw a few whispers, but they seemed to be decreasing everyday and so I was relatively unbothered. I was more excited to spend the day with Newt than anything else.

"Good morning." I said as I neared the group, all the boys shooting up from their bent positions and smiling at me.

"Morning Greenie, you seem chipper." Zart smiled and I was quick to correct him "Angel. My name is Angel."

I snuck a glance at Newt and could see he was grinning, obviously happy that I'd decided to stick with the name he chose.

"Well good morning then, Angel." Zart said before adding "Nice name, suits you."

"Thank you." I beamed before bending down to be beside him and Newt "So what we doing today?"

"Well first of all, you ought to finish your breakfast, having some food in your stomach makes all the difference in this heat." Newt smiled. "Do you want a short sleeved top? Today is gonna be a sunny one."

I thought of the scars across my forearms and quickly shook my head no, although I could already feel the heat.

"No it's okay. I'll just roll my sleeves up if I get too hot." I said.

"Okay, Angel." He grinned, obviously completely unaware of my lie. "We're cutting off the dying leaves from our crops today and if we have time later we're going to plant some garlic bulbs. Sound good?"

"Sounds great." I smiled before quickly sipping down my soup.

"You really are chipper today, aren't you? Was the extra hour of sleep that good?" Newt chuckled and I nodded, thinking of my dream, unintentionally letting my cheeks go pink.

"Yeah. It was." I tried to sound nonchalant but Newt's grin gave me a feeling that he knew what I was thinking about. There was no way he could know, maybe I was just easy to read.

Around midday I could feel that my shirt was damp with sweat, and I was starting to struggle under the heat of the beaming sun, but alas I had to act fine. I was relatively fine. The company of the track-hoes had been very pleasant, much more than the awkwardness of the builders or the silence of the slicers. I had a feeling that even if Newt wasn't there, I would've enjoyed the job. But he had definitely noticed the heat affecting me, and kept offering to grab one of his vests for me to wear, which I politely refused every time.

"You're sweating buckets, Angel. Don't you even want to roll your sleeves up?" He questioned quietly, leaning close to me.

"No." I answered quickly before casually adding "I'm fine. It's not that hot."

"Well that's a lie." He eyed me with suspicion "What's up? You don't want the boys looking at you?"

"Y-Yeah. I don't want to expose any more skin than I have to, you know?" I agreed, secretly thanking him for unintentionally creating an excuse for me.

"Well they're not going to go mad over some arm skin. Here, let me help." He moved his hands towards my sleeves, his cleaner than mine, but I flinched away and his brows furrowed with concern.

"Sorry. I won't touch you." He apologised, his voice downtrodden, and although I wanted so badly to tell him he could touch me - to tell him that he'd done nothing wrong, I just sheepishly smiled.

His conversation lessened considerably after that and I started to feel a heavy guilt in my gut mixed with a spiralling anxiety in my chest. However, I acted un-phased, concentrating on trimming the leaves and making polite conversation with the other track-hoes. Arthur and Sebastian were slightly younger than Newt and Zart but clearly skilled at their job, and so I had been speaking to them a lot. Arthur had curly, brown hair, longer than mine by a couple inches and Sebastian had striking blue eyes, contrasted by his dark hair and tan skin. I decided that I liked them and I would perhaps join them for dinner one night, as they seemed to like me too.

"You're good at this. Think it's the small fingers, you know?" Sebastian had said and Arthur agreed.

"Are my fingers small?" I wondered out loud, holding my mud-caked hand up to my face.

"Compared to everyone else's? Yeah they're pretty small." Arthur chuckled. "Do you recon you'll stay on as a track-hoe?"

The idea appealed to me, but the excitement I'd had to be around Newt was now replaced with anxiety as I realised it meant I'd probably have to tell him the truth about the sleeves or just get used to working this way in the heat.

"I don't know. I like it but I want to try everything. Being a runner seems interesting." I mused and Seb scoffed.

"Being a runner is dangerous."

"Yeah and you have to be really fast." Arthur added.

"Well I don't think I'm slow. When I leapt out the box I went pretty fast, didn't I?" I questioned and they shrugged.

"We were busy weeding, chica. Didn't see any of that." Seb answered and so I looked over in Newt's direction, who was a crouched a few feet away from us.

"Newtus, do you recon I'm a fast runner?" I called over to him and he rolled his eyes with a playful smile, which I was relieved to see.

"Not really... I mean, maybe for a girl. But in general, no."

*Newt’s POV*

As Angel flinched away from my touch, I found myself mentally questioning her boundaries, confused by the way she'd decided to go by the name I'd picked, yet was seemingly uncomfortable with my touch. She hadn't flinched away from Minho last night, we're they becoming closer than I'd realised? I had to push the jealous thoughts out of my head, knowing them to be just that - jealous - and instead try to focus on my work.

It was easier to do that today than it had been yesterday. I knew she was safe in the gardens, all of the track-hoes being relatively relaxed and friendly lads, and if anything did go wrong she would just be a glance away from my eye line. This obsession was becoming unhealthy though, I knew that as soon as I'd felt the pang of rejection at her slight movement away from me. I knew it even more when the sound of her laughing with Sebastian and Arthur started to annoy me. Maybe it would be better if I distanced myself from her. After all, if Zart had picked up on my potential feelings, who knows who else could've.

Instead, I tried to keep myself focused on all of the work I needed to get done, mentally planning the weeks ahead. The grapes would hopefully be ready for harvest soon, so maybe Zart and I could make that wine. In a couple of days the potatoes and mushrooms would be fully grown, so Frypan would be pleased with that. I would have some of the boys clean and prepare all of the crops to be eaten, and I would probably be busy planting more.

"Maybe Angel would stay on as a Track-hoe. Would I allocate myself to being her personal teacher? Or would I let Zart do it?" This thought broke through my scheduling and I almost groaned out loud at myself.

My pondering lasted in silence for a little while, perhaps an hour, before Angel called over to me "Newtus, do you recon I'm a fast runner?" and I automatically smiled at her use of my nickname. Then I thought of why she'd be asking that question. We're they discussing the Runners? I know that I'd pushed for her to be able to try every role, but I didn't like the idea of her running. Still, I couldn't let her know that - as so far she'd shown that being told she couldn't do something just made her want to do it more.. like hanging out with Gally.

"Not really... I mean, maybe for a girl. But in general, no." I answered, finally looking up from my work and smiling at her. "Why, you wanna be a runner?"

"I don't know. Maybe." She smiled then added. "I thought I was quite fast. Maybe with some practice I'll be the fastest in here."

"Have you seen Minho run?" I raised an eyebrow and she giggled and nodded.

"Okay, maybe not the fastest. But I might not be bad."

"Maybe. I guess we'll see." I forced a chuckle, although my mind was instantly fraught with worry.

I decided I needed to speak to Alby immediately, and so I put my tools down and stood up, wiping the dirt from my trousers.

"Where you going?" Angel questioned, looking worried.

"Just gotta check something quick. I won't be long." I said, swallowing before heading towards the map room where I knew Alby would be.

When I walked in his head quickly shot up, relief flushing his face for a moment before it was replaced with concern.

"What's happened? Someone hasn't hurt Angel again have they?"

It took me back for a second to hear him saying her name. The name I'd given her. And it gave me another item on the agenda of things to discuss with him. How she still hadn't remembered her name, and it didn't seem like she would.. yet she had known mine.

"No. Nothing like that." I answered quickly before letting out a sigh "I was just thinking... do you think we should let her try to be a runner?"

Alby looked confused at this. "Well I thought we'd agreed that she should try everything."

"Yes but.. the maze. It's a bit different isn't it? I mean not even all of the boys have tried it out, I don't feel like it's right. There's no way she'll be able to keep up with any of the runners."

"Well no one starts out as fast as Minho, do they? And she might not even want to do it, but we need to at least give her the opportunity. To show to the boys that she's just like them."

"But she's not." I thought before blurting out "And she didn't remember her name, by the way."

Alby's brows furrowed in further confusion "What do you mean? I thought it was Angel."

"No.. I uh- chose it for her. I don't think she's going to remember the one she had before here." I stammered.

Alby raised an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed by what I'd just said.

"You chose it for her? And she just accepted it?"

"She asked me to pick one! And I just went with the one that felt right."

He let out a frustrated huff before speaking again.

"So she trusts you then. That's good to know. But you're becoming far too attached to her. I don't expect you to come storming in here like that unless something has happened, and you're just worried about her trying out as a runner?"

"Yes! I'm worried about sending her into the maze alone with someone! You said it yourself, she needs to have someone trustworthy with her at all times - just incase!"

"And do you not think Minho is trustworthy? Or Ben? Or Nick for that matter? There isn't a single runner here that I wouldn't trust. I think what your problem is is that you're jealous - and it needs to stop."

His words struck me in a spot that had me immediately defensive.

"But what if something happened? Not even with one of the lads, but something else. The maze is unpredictable and dangerous-" I started to protest until Alby cut me off.

"The Glade is unpredictable and dangerous. Now stop this and get back to work. Have Zart or Frypan escort her for the rest of the day. You need a break from this girl, I've never seen you act so erratic... except for when you nearly bloody killed yourself. I don't have to be worried about that now also, do I?"

I couldn't help but hang my head in shame at his words, silently nodding as I bit my tongue, knowing him to be right in his argument. It had been almost six months since my attempt and I still regretted it most days. I didn't know what I regretted sometimes though - the fact that I'd attempted it and permanently damaged myself as a result, or the fact that it hadn't worked. Since Angel had arrived I'd hardly thought on it, but now the guilt was overwhelming again and I found myself having to take a deep breath before speaking.

"You're right. Sorry. I'll keep some distance from her from now on."

"Well don't just ditch her if she trusts you. She could provide some valuable information. I could tell she was holding back with me. There's something strange going on at the moment. Just... be more.. objective."

"Alright. I will." I answered with certainty, although I was still feeling quite unsure.

[heartforeyes]

I wish Maysilee Donner would've met President Snow. He wouldve said some corny shit like "Snow lands on top" and she would've eaten the words and chewed them right back up so nasty that he would've been so ashamed to say them ever again.

[outromoony]

“They’re just fictional characters” ok then why do I feel like their heartache personally cracked my ribs?

[mockingjay-sings]

The mockingbird, the jabberjay and the mockingjay 🕊️ inspired by this post by @fromevertonow

[traumadumpwriter]

Are you planning on writing more with Fred Weasley anytime soon? Those are my favorites haha. I love ur writing so much btw <3

I do plan on writing some more with Fred and also some more for James and Sirius in the future. I have some great requests for all three I am just constantly working on multiple things at once as well as having a very busy irl job and being a super unorganised person. I’m very happy that you enjoy my writing and I appreciate your ask very much! I hope you’re doing well. Stay safe - Izzy xxxx

[traumadumpwriter]

Relapse and a Half - Fourteen

JJ Maybank X Pogue! Reader

Summary: The Pogues feel betrayed by the readers sudden relapse into drugs, but they re unable to be angry at her for too long as something terrible leaves her needing their support more than ever.

Trigger warning for: drugs (obviously), guns, explicit sexual assault, violence, trauma

Masterlist | Part Fifteen

Word count: 3.5k

Wow it has been such a long time since I updated this fic. Thank you to everyone who’s stuck around, especially those who’ve liked, commented and reblogged. Also thank you to everyone who has sent in requests. The interaction means the world to me and I wouldn’t bother updating some of my fics if it wasn’t for the requests to do so tbh. This story still has a little while to go before it’s finished, and I’m working up to a big ending. For now, this is a bit of filler chapter so I apologise about that. I hope y’all enjoy it anyway. Stay safe, love u all xx

Pope reversed out of the driveway with less precaution than usual. Having just somewhat faced death and dodged it, he felt that luck was on his side, and that piece of adrenaline paired with an unspoken anxious timer inspired him to press his foot on the pedal a little bit harder. He hadn't known where he was exactly going, but he knew that all three of you certainly needed to be as far, far away from the Chateau as quickly possible. 

No one spoke for a few minutes. All that you could do was mentally replay the preceding events in silent, exhausted shock. The only noise was the sound of the truck; it's engine loudly thrumming and miscellaneous parts vibrating. Scenes ran through your mind in a blur, the visuals were quick and unclear but the range of emotions that you'd experienced rolled back through you like a devastating tsunami - only the destruction had already been done. All that was left was the painful silence of an obliterated city.

Your eyes endlessly ran with tears but you were unable to feel it, suspended in a state of simultaneous numbness and despair. Somehow though, you had been the first one to speak; your voice coming out gravelly from your damaged throat.

"Is there any weed in here?"

Kie could've smiled at the typical nature of your question were she not still so shaken. She managed to breathe in a deep breath and look at you with her own wet face before your bodies were tightly hugging.

"Yeah. I'll roll it." She whispered after a moment.

Her embrace felt like a cushion plated anchor. You allowed it to level you entirely, closing your eyes in the safeness and being able to imagine yourself anywhere. Her bedroom, a shop in Charleston, a beach in Mexico. There would always an undeniable loveliness in being safe enough in someone's arms to retreat into the void within them.

"I can't believe they were so stupid- all of them. I was so scared- I can't believe-" Kie cut herself off with an anxious swallow.

"Girl, you saved the day." You returned, then after a moment added "Which reminds me, where the hell did you two get those other guns from?"

At that, Kie and Pope were finally able to laugh; something that started off as low and nervous but slowly developed into a full roar - exchanging relieved glances to each other in the rear view mirror.

"They're fake... They're the ones the boys spray painted." Kie managed to get out between bursts of laughter, and soon you had joined in too, the feeling almost hysterical.

You looked to Kie and then to Pope and felt a bounding flow of relief and love surge through you, pushing the laughter out of your lungs harder despite the dull pain.

"I forgot about those... God, I was so confused."

"Did you not see Rafe tackle mine off me? I a-accidentally shot it... It was only meant to be a prop piece. I think he threw it somewhere." Kie continued spluttering.

Then the laughter died and the air around you felt heavy again. Your lungs went back to feeling too small and your voice hollow.

"Yeah I saw... I just thought he was being insane."

"That was definitely part of it." Kie swallowed.

A memory flashed behind your eyes - two memories actually. The spark of excitement in Rafe's murderous stare, and Barry's half lidded look of pleasure.

They both made you feel the same way.

They both meant the same thing.

Your mouth had started talking before your brain had even really caught up with it, abandoning the denial that you'd found comfort in before, and defying the silence that would empower them.

"You know, I really did actually think that Rafe was going to kill me.. not even when he had the gun to my face, but in the car.. alone with him. I think he really wanted to..." You lifted your hands to your throat and traced your fingers over the place where his had been, coughing as you suddenly remembered how tight the passage to your lungs had become.

You looked around for something to drink and were delighted when you spotted a half full bottle of coke - no doubt warm and flat - wedged underneath a seat. You took a few swigs of the the sugary liquid which tasted like heaven on the acidic dryness of your tongue before continuing to speak - now slightly less hoarsely.

"It's all so stupid. I mean- JJ broke into Barry's just to prove a point for his own ego and because of that Rafe decided to literally fucking abduct me. And then he- he got so close to doing something even worse than Barry!... I'm sure he would've if things had gone different... The shit he was saying- God, I see why JJ was so pissed off now. But still, this? Why would he do something so goddamn stupid?"

Kie pulled you into a hug again, unable not to do so, feeling wordless and fragile. She wished that she could give you a real answer - a good, clean, neat one, but nothing ever seemed to be neat when it came to JJ, or yourself for that matter.

"Why would John B let him do something so stupid?" You repeated in a whisper.

Kie let out a deep sigh and unintentionally shook her head, unconsciously giving a clue to the fact that she too had no idea.

"Because he's an idiot too. They're both idiots."

Pope hummed in agreement from the drivers seat.

It didn't take long for the van to arrive at the chosen destination after that; a somewhat abandoned part of the beach not far from where you'd been only hours beforehand, littered with large rocks and fluttering bits of rubbish. Kie had dug out the magic ingredients from a hidden seat compartment and rolled a decent sized blunt, which she sparked and toked on before handing it to you. The three of you then sat within the open doors of the Twinkie, leaning out to look at the sun setting over the ocean. When the smoke had struggled down your sore throat and you'd had a coughing fit, there had been another round of laughter followed by thick, remembering silence.

A string of razor wire had been pulled, dragged up your spine with a sharp tug. Maybe the weed had triggered a leakage of emotion, and then that had turned into a sudden wave. There was salty rage in that water that you were no longer able to ignore.

The mournful silence was once again broken again by you, this time pierced, as you cursed JJ for being so unthinking and hissed painful truths of the attacks - even ranging back to the night that it had all started.

Previously banned admissions were flying from your lips; spinning a new, true hatred for Rafe and Barry. The Pepsi bottle gripped securely in one of your hands was being moulded by your fingers as you spoke - squeezed mercilessly into a new, unchosen shape.

Kie and Pope both delicately attempted to comfort you whilst solemnly agreeing with your opinionated admissions - verbally, anyway. Pope could remember the fear that he'd felt seeing your limp body in John B's arms, and the anger that had accompanied that.

He remembered how he'd kicked Barry's ribs and struggled not to deliver any more hits against the fallen man. For someone with a less rational mind it would've been easy to kill the drug dealer there and then, so it was easy for Pope to visualise why JJ had chosen to do what he eventually did. Not that that made it right, or not stupid. There was no way that he was going to revisit that experience and explain it out loud to you though, not when you were so rightfully upset - and visibly unstable.

The weed had enhanced the almost forgotten high of your pills, but not enough. You climbed back into the van, zipped open your backpack which was practically bursting at the seams and poured out its contents onto the floor without any words. There was a lot of sand, wrappers, an empty wine bottle, a book, a towel, eighteen neatly wrapped stacks of cash, tangled earphones, your dead phone, your keys, some loose fifty dollar bills and an orange pill pot. You swiftly removed your medicine from that pot and swallowed it down with the last swigs of the squished Pepsi bottle as Pope joined you in the back.

He handed the blunt back to Kie, who was leaning in through the open door and watching, and then started to organise the money - counting it with quiet mumbles to himself. It didn't take long for him to finish at all, sitting up straight and saying plainly to you "Including the loose bills, you've got eleven thousand six hundred and fifty dollars here. What are you gonna do with it?"

At that, Kie started to splutter and cough, and you chuckled for a moment before actually starting to think about Pope's question.

Drugs was the first and most blaringly loud answer, shouting above all of the others that followed. Plastic surgery was your next idea, then a moped, then a boat, then a holiday. They all made you excited, but none of them gave you that tickle of dopamine like a mountain of pills did. Except for maybe the holiday, if only it could last for longer than a couple weeks. If only it could be something like a semi-permanent holiday; maybe a one way ticket.

"Get a bike or something, I guess. Or I could get a pool at my mums house." You shrugged, sinking into the cushioned seat with a relaxed breath.

Kie handed you the end of the blunt with a quiet laugh, shaking her head. It was undeniable how similar you were to JJ, but if she said that out loud it would no longer be funny.

"You're not gonna invest it? Put it towards buying a house or going to college or something?" Pope scoffed.

He would've been more appalled by your careless answer if he hadn't seen you swallowing a pill from the orange pot.

When you got sober you would make a wiser choice and surely that wouldn't be too far away.

"Maybe it would just be a week or two of trying to stop her from spending the money on anything stupid." He thought. He was sure that Kie would agree with him if she weren't so tired.

You shrugged again, sucking the blunt to the roach-card in a deep inhale and then slowly exhaling out of your nose, this time only coughing lightly as the end of the smoke trail tickled your throat. An image had started to build in your mind, but it was something that required more focus than you were willing to give in that moment.

"Maybe I'll get... an exotic bird, like a parrot or something... or one of those expensive cabinets with little china sets inside that old kooks love." You teased with a grin, struggling not to giggle as Pope's eyes got wider by the second.

Kie joined in too, listing off other ridiculous, expensive things that you could never possibly need until Pope couldn't hold his dismay back anymore; begging you to "invest in going to college or something" much to the amusement of yourself and Kie.

You convinced him that you were going to buy a toucan.

When the Twinkie came to a stop outside of your house, Pope got out to give you and Kie each a tight hug. He whispered how much he loved you both, and then drove back home - dreading the journey of returning the van the next morning.

Your mum’s car wasn't parked out front and so you assumed that she was probably on a night shift, but you and Kie crept silently to your room anyway, both feeling delicate to everything including sound. You'd both agreed that you stank and were in dire need of a shower, and so Kie sat on the toilet seat and quietly spoke whilst you scrubbed the layers of sand, sea water, sweat and dried blood from yourself. There had been no discussion of her joining you in there, but you'd both known it was the plan. She was scared to leave you alone after all, perhaps rightfully so. The warm water had felt so heavenly as it pattered against your skin, that you felt you could've fallen asleep if not for the mental stimulation of her words. The tub could've filled and smothered your lungs, and you wouldn't have felt it through the weight of the peace.

"When did you relapse? It wasn't long ago, was it?" Was one of her questions, and although it sounded casual from the flat tiredness of her tone, you knew it was anything but.

"Only last night." You were quick to reassure her then sighed "Perfect timing I guess. Probably only missed JJ robbing Luke's phone by a couple hours."

"And Luke.. I mean - really? He's the worst." She winced.

"Yeah I know. It's bad. He's a fucking asshole, but I didn't do it to fuck with JJ. Not at first anyway...I just needed some pills."

Kie was leaving gaps of silent air for you to fill, hopeful for you to freely outpour truths as you had earlier, but when you didn't she got the message and carried on with her questions.

"Was there really no other dealer you could go to? He's such a piece of shit.”

"Maybe. I could've asked around, but screw that. And screw JJ anyway. It doesn't matter now. I never want to see him again."

Kie frowned.

"You don't mean that. I mean- he fucked up big time, but you've been in love with him for like, forever-"

"I really do mean it." You cut her off with a dry huff "He's shown me so much disrespect already that I just brushed off, and then he almost got us all killed... I hate him right now. I really do."

Kie nodded, feeling dumb for even suggesting otherwise.

"Yeah... you're right. Sorry. He's a fucking dick. A completely selfish asshole. It just feels weird to hear you say it."

Then she paused again, waiting for a response that you didn't give before asking another question.

"Was there any specific reason why you felt like you needed those pills last night? I mean- what made you make that decision? You don't have to answer, I just want to know if I could've helped."

A flash of third person memories played behind your eyes - it was the strange way that your brain disassociated itself from trauma and reimagined things when you were too simply high to fully grasp them - even from just hours beforehand. That memory would continue to warp over time until only the key moments remained frozen, first person milliseconds spliced in between the cinematic remastering. Was there even an answer that you could give Kie when you could hardly mentally verbalise it to yourself?

You shrugged and let one word fall from your mouth. It was the only possible word that could even begin to encompass the reasons why you would continuously destroy yourself.

"Everything.... You couldn't have helped.... It's... everything."

Then there was silence again - this time not one of hopeful patience, but sad understanding. With just the beating thrum of the shower to fill the room, the scene suddenly started to feel uncomfortably reminiscent of the morning in the bathroom after Barry's - something that you still couldn't entirely envision from your own perspective. You could remember how Kie had mothered you in the tub of the Chateau, and how JJ had told you that he loved you - but besides those points you weren't entirely sure. The specific words had been lost - only the emotions remained.

Kie felt that painfully nostalgic recognition too, watching a diluted tie dye pattern of combat colours swirl into the drain of the tub. Only three months had passed since that heartbreaking morning in the Chateau, but it had felt like a life time until that moment. So many things had happened - and yet the cycle of time had closed its loop again, tying a small knot in the scene of a bathroom containing yourself and Kie. She anxiously wondered when the pattern would repeat again, then quickly prayed that it wouldn't - that it was non existent and coincidental.

"What do you wanna watch?" Your voice seemed to casually echo around the tiles and Kie blinked hard before answering.

"I don't know, Vampire diaries? It's your call. We're both gonna pass out anyway." 

You chuckled lightly at that and nodded.

"Vampire diaries is such a shout. Should I order pizza?"

"Is that really the first thing you're going to do with that money?"

"Hell yeah. Better than drugs, isn't it?"

You both found yourselves laughing again at that as you pictured Pope's disapproving reaction. Kie replaced you under the running water whilst you called up your favourite pizza place and made an order suited for a family of five.

The next morning you were horribly bruised and painfully hungover, but still in a pill induced fog from the pure amount that had entered your digestive system. You could instantly remember what that had happened the evening before, but through the numbness you were able to quickly tuck it away as Kie stretched beside you. Greasy boxes from the ridiculously large order of food were spread across the mess of your carpet and you initially smiled at them with the thought of leftovers for breakfast, but then there came the unavoidable association of what you'd paid for them with, and within a second you were no longer able to ignore the drama that had unfolded.

There was a Scrabble box stuffed with notes hidden under your bed. What on earth could you do with it?

Some weed, pills and booze would certainly be the first items on the agenda, but then what?

Where could you go?

You weren't sure why locations suddenly sprung to mind instead of luxury items. The imagining of leaving everything behind gave you much more of a dopamine rush than the potential of a new wardrobe or concert tickets or even an evidence room sized stockpile of drugs. Pope had counted out those notes and you could remember the number he'd declared; eleven thousand six hundred and fifty dollars. That was more than enough to get a one way ticket somewhere and pay the rent for a little while until you got a job. It was more than some students left college with to go on their gap year of travelling - backpacking across Australia or Thailand as so many did. You'd heard stories of people leaving town with far less to their name and managing to stay gone forever.

"It wouldn't be forever. Maybe just for a couple of months. Just to clear my head." You mentally reasoned with yourself, picturing a mountain view and some kind of cheesy spiritual awakening. "I can find somewhere beautiful, and I can start over for a bit. Maybe I'll work out how to be happy and then I'll actually want to get sober. I could come back home a new person."

Kie forced herself from the bed with a yawn and you were both soon eating cold pizza for breakfast before deciding to roll a blunt. A day of smoking weed and eating junk food had been earned - declared proudly by yourself and Kie. By the time she left in the late evening, your face hurt from laughter and your eyes were thin, red slits. The day had managed to go by with little mention of the dark reality outside your bedroom walls, even when you complimented your bodily functions with more Xanax. Only as she looked around your room for her things in preparation to leave did Kie solemnly turn to you.

"You're not going to take a bunch as soon as I'm gone, are you? Or go missing - or anything stupid like that? I just have this weird feeling-"

"I'll be fine. I promise." You cut her off with a smile, purposely choosing your words and hoping that she wouldn't question them.

Because you were going to do something that she would probably count as stupid, but you were fairly certain that you would be fine.

You had a plan - sort of.

The first thing that you needed to do was get some more pills from Luke, which instantly reminded you of the blonde that you'd managed to shove from your head all day. After Kie had left you looked at your phone, which had been strewn to the side, and felt silently disappointed to see no text from him. You wondered if you were meant to send the angry text first; capital letters declaring your hatred for his betrayal, a vent of your hurt frustrations and ironic no-contact demand. But then you reminded yourself that you wanted nothing to do with him, and that any message he might've sent would be worthless anyway.

You were relieved when the transaction between yourself and Luke some hours later went smoothly, with little mention of his son. The next step was packing your bags - specifically two of your old school rucksacks. You didn't want to pack too much anyway, and you would level up your gear once you were really on the move. You weren’t sure where you were going to go yet, so you put the essentials in one bag and a variety of clothes in the other.

The next step in your impulsive plan was to write some temporary goodbye letters so as to not terrify your mother and best friends too badly. You explained in the letters that you were going to turn off your phone and disappear for a few months, but that you would be fine.

Then you caught the last boat off the island, only just making it before the strike of midnight.

[traumadumpwriter]

Honey, what’d you take?

Toxic! Harry Styles x Reader

Whilst on tour with Harry and the rest of One direction, your boyfriend’s behaviour becomes unrecognisable and you relapse into an old drug habit.

Trigger warnings for toxic relationship dynamics, mentions of physical abuse, domestic violence, explicit depictions of drug use and addiction

Word Count: 3.9k

Masterlist | Part Two

You had been dating Harry for just over two years now - having made it through some intense highs and lows with the difficulty of media scrutiny, a constantly loaded work schedule and some intense personal issues. No matter how hard it got, you both loved each other, although it would be hard to tell with Harry sometimes. Nonetheless, you generally didn't let it get to you as he'd been with you through thick and thin, and when he did want to show his love, he really did. Recently however, you were starting to truly question his love for the first time.

His change in attitude was easily understood. Being on tour was a stressful time. He hardly had time for himself, let alone you, so you found it hard to argue when he aggressively raised his voice at or blatantly ignored you. But as the tour went on his attitude got worse, culminating in some intense fights between you two - mostly fuelled by alcohol and pure exhaustion.

After some weeks of this treatment, sluggishly travelling from hotel to hotel, spending most of your time locked up inside - unable to go out and explore cities with your boyfriend without security presence due to the vulturous paparazzi - you finally slipped up.

A crew member for one of the many stadiums; a face that you would've otherwise completely forgotten in amongst the hundreds of people you interacted with daily, noticed your downtrodden expression and recognised the needy look in your eyes. In a transaction so swift that seemingly not a single other person noticed, you gained a pot of pills - alprazolam or otherwise known as Xanax. A benzodiazepine mostly used to treat anxiety; but when abused a tool to numb the body and mind, erase memories and remove worries.

You'd had an issue with drugs in the past, the years before you were with Harry being spent in a haze of violent relationships and destructive highs, and this was something Harry very much knew about. Still now any movement too sudden would sometimes have you jumping backwards, much to the heartbreak of your closest friends. Certain triggers would make you go silent for hours and when the nights got particularly wild and substances came into play, Harry would keep a very keen eye on you. He would make sure any uppers were being taken in moderation and any downers were far out of your way. Some might say he could be overly protective or even quite controlling when he wanted to be, but you loved him too much to agree with that out loud. It was just his way of protecting you.

As soon as you’d received that pot of Xanax though, your two year clean streak meant nothing to you, nor did the thought of Harry's reaction if he found out. You quickly popped two pills and then hid the pot in your bag; feeling some relief from your bitter self hatred almost instantly.

When the show finally finished and Harry rushed straight past you into the black tinted sprinter van, the pang of rejection in your gut did not ache as bad as it usually did. You slowly stepped into the second van reserved for unwanted managers and girlfriends with nothing to say. Eleanor opened her mouth to say something, concerned by your lack of conversation, but decided against it, leaving the ride in silence.

Back at the hotel, things weren't much more lively. Despite having a huge suite to themselves, fitted with multiple bedrooms, bathrooms, stocked mini fridges and comfortable living spaces (as was the case for most the hotels they stayed in), the boys retreated back to their own rooms and passed out - completely exhausted. You quietly slinked into your bed beside Harry, unable to control the butterflies in your stomach every time you looked at him, and pressed your skin to his in an attempt to initiate a cuddle. His hot torso felt like sweet, intoxicating caramel and you were desperate to dive into it, loosely wrapping an arm around him. Harry didn't react, though you knew he was still awake, and so you retracted your arm and curled up on the far side of the bed, holding yourself until you fell asleep.

Most nights went like this, except now that you had your pills and were quickly increasing the dosage, the heartbreak was easier to manage. Not all nights had been loveless. There were plenty of times when Harry would take you out or just order food in. He would pull you into his arms and kiss you passionately - like he couldn't breathe without you. He would speak sweet romances in your ear and fuck you all night long. But they were becoming few and far between and like the pills, just left you wanting for more,

It was just under a month after you'd gotten that initial pot that Harry noticed anything. You were sat in the back of a fancy restaurant; gilded chairs in a private section far out of the public's view. The night had been nice so far; talking and laughing in the way you craved so desperately, his hand always intertwined with yours or securely on the dip of your back. To truly compliment the night, you were also wearing one of Harry's favourite dresses, a black slim fitting silky one that defined your curves just enough to leave some imagination, and his eyes wouldn't stray from it.

After you'd both finished the main course and had a few more glasses of wine, the conversation started to go awry.

"Your strap keeps slipping down, it never used to do that." Harry leant across the table with a smile and repositioned it before you could. "Have you lost weight?"

"I don't know. Maybe." You answered. "You definitely have."

"You recon? I don't see it."

You almost blurted out "Well that's because only one of us pays attention!" but quickly bit your tongue, taking another gulp from your glass. The awkward swallow and forced silence didn't go unnoticed by Harry, who was intensely watching your every move - having had a gut feeling that something wasn’t quite right all day.

"What did you stop yourself from saying then?" He questioned, a teasing smirk on his lips that hid his real concern. Even when drunk he knew how to fluster you.

You giggled, knowing that saying "nothing" wasn't an option, and thought of what to say. The alcohol was affecting you more than it would usually, thanks to the pills - which was something you hadn't considered until you started drinking - and that last sip felt as if it had already hit you.

"I-I was just gonna say well you look good either way."

Harry replied quickly, his face going from considerate to unimpressed in one blurry blink. "I don't believe you." He said, sinking your stomach.

You looked anywhere but his face, fearful that it was within your eyes that he saw the truth, and let out a nervous laugh.

"Why not? You know that you're fine. I don't need to say it."

His unimpressed stare continued on silently, examining you as you started to ramble in a desperate attempt to explain yourself.

"Okay s-so I was going to say you don't pay enough attention to me to know if I've l-lost weight or not. But I know you're busy and it's not your fault! I shouldn't have even thought that." You uncomfortably stumbled on your words, slurring on some, regaining some eye contact again.

Even after years of being together, it always surprised Harry just how much you could make yourself panic, but this was different. Despite your clearly anxious tone and words, your body was strangely relaxed, hands hardly moving and back still leant into the cushion of the chair.

"And I do think you look good! That wasn't a lie. You look good either way-"

"Look at me, Y/N." He interrupted you, his tone soft but laced with clear authority.

You mentally protested but instantly complied, peering up at him through your mascara coated lashes with confusion as you started to speak again.

"Are you annoyed at me now? I'm sorry. I shouldn't be so needy. I-"

"You've taken something. Haven't you?"

And with those words the true panic set in, your body finally reacting as it should've been; shoulders tense and back straight. Harry's straight face gave little clue as to what your response should be, but it was clear that there was no point in denying. He knew.

You took a sharp intake of breath and swallowed, eyes once again darting around the room before settling back in the familiar green of his.

"Just a few anti anxiety pills. Nothing major. I shouldn't have mixed them with alcohol."

"Right. Some benzos you got off a street dealer I'm guessing. Do you want to show me these pills?" Harry spoke bluntly, his assertiveness clear.

"They're real- they're not pressed- they're- they're back at the hotel." You tried to sound confident but just stumbled on your words.

"I suppose you won't mind me looking in your bag then." He grabbed your handbag from under the table before you could, earning a gasp from you as you felt your world start to crumble.

Harry scoffed as he pulled out the pot and read the label; an obviously fake prescription sticker taped lazily around the side; reading a strangers name along with the medication and dosage.

"Wow, Y/N. Are you fucking serious?" His eyes went wide and his voice came out as an angry hiss "How long have you been on this shit? You've not taken anything else - have you?"

You shrank backwards again, your face going pink as you mumbled "No... and just a month."

Harry twisted open the cap and looked inside. "And there's four pills left. You're telling me you've taken almost all of these in a month?"

"H-Harry, it's not that bad."

"Not that bad?"

"I mean n-no one has noticed so it's obviously not that bad. I've just been feeling a little anxious."

"That's two years clean flushed down the toilet. You do realise that right? All that therapy and rehab down the drain."

You sat up straight again, attempting to defend yourself though your slurring voice did you no favours.

"It's not down the drain. This isn't a relapse- this isn't... hard drugs. I'm still good. I'll just stop taking the pills when the tour ends. I'm literally fine Harry. Please don't be like this."

He scoffed again, radiating with angry disapproval.

"Like what? Like a concerned boyfriend? Do you even know what's in these? It could be literally anything. You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"No I'm not. It's not like it was before, they're not even strong-"

"Well I'll take a few right now then."

As he shook a pill into his hand you quickly exclaimed "Stop! You won't get up for practice tomorrow morning!" knowing as you said it that you were proving his point, but being unable to bear the guilt of affecting his career.

"You're not taking anymore, I'm gonna get rid of them." He scoffed.

"No. I'm an adult and they're mine." You reached across the table but quickly stopped yourself upon remembering Harry's thunderous glare, retracting your arm back with a huff and instead grabbing your glass of wine.

Before you could bring it to your lips though, Harry's hand was on your arm, holding it back.

"Stop. You're a fucking mess already."

You heard disgust in his tone and it instantly made you feel ten times worse than you already did. Embarrassed that you'd been caught out by your boyfriend and even more so that he was angry about it. It plunged you into a numb silence that was only broken once in the taxi back to the hotel, though only briefly.

"I can't bloody believe you, Y/N."

"I'm sorry."

"No. I can't bloody believe the way you lied to my face."

"I said I'm sorry Harry."

He sighed, turning to look at you sadly. It hurt him how much he loved you. The tour hadn't been too good on his mental state either.

"I know you are." He moved a hand across the seats to stroke yours but stopped himself, folding his arms across his chest bitterly. He couldn't let himself feel bad for you, no, you'd done this to yourself, you should be treated accordingly.

"I just wish you were around more." You sighed "It feels like you don't like me anymore."

Harry just tutted and rolled his eyes at that.

Once back at the hotel, you went straight to your bedroom, desperate to be alone and cry in the shower, whilst Harry swaggered into the kitchen. Louis and Zayn were sat in there already, drinking from an assortment of bottles, and Harry was quick to join them. Neither of the boys asked him what had happened between you two, knowing better than to set him off when he was drunk - especially off about you. But after an hour of drinking, his brain still couldn't drop it - instead the rage had been festering.

"You know.. Y/N has really pissed me off today." He slurred, catching a confused frown from Louis and an eye roll from Zayn.

"Let me guess. It's over something completely fucking ridiculous and you'll make up in the morning anyway." Zayn stated matter-of-factly, though his tone was laced with a drunken taunt.

"No, dickhead. She's been taking some fake fucking Xanax, God knows where she got them, lying to my face about it." Harry scowled. "And then she had the nerve to claim that this isn't a relapse. Like it's so much better just because she's not shooting it into her arms-"

"Is she alright?" Louis cut him off, genuinely concerned whilst Zayn casually responded "And you're surprised?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Harry asked Zayn accusingly, his mind suddenly racing with new worries and suspicions.

Zayn took a few moments to answer, lighting a cigarette in blatant disregard for the fine (as usual) and starting to casually suck on it.

"Tour's stressful. There's drugs everywhere. Can't say I blame her."

"Of course you think that. You're a sucker for that shit too.” Harry mumbled irritatedly, earning a stern look from Louis and a scoff from Zayn.

"Yeah whatever, bro. You just love having a reason to be a dick."

Harry began to rummage through his pockets for the pot, slamming it onto the counter once he found it and thinning his eyes at Zayn. Louis picked up the pot first, reading the identifying information with little understanding and then handed it to Zayn, who opened the pot and was disappointed to find just four inside. He popped one anyway.

"She's taken all of those in just a month! Now try and tell me I'm being a dick!"

"You're being a dick, Harry." Louis answered. "How can you be pissed at her for something like this? You know how stressful the tour is."

"Exactly! I know! What does she know? Nothing!" He hissed. "I have a right to be pissed! I paid for her rehab and all of that bloody therapy!"

The way he spoke about you made Zayn angry. He'd wished to be in Harry's shoes, though he doubted in himself that he'd treat you much better. He knew that it was a completely selfish desire. He took another swig from his drink, attempting to cool the frustration bubbling in his chest.

Meanwhile, you had been sobbing so hard that you were convinced Niall, in the room next door, must've heard you through the walls. You’d cried in the shower, then you cried in the bed, then you tried to sleep but couldn't because you didn't have your pills, and so paced around the room for twenty minutes whilst trying to keep your eyes dry, eventually managing to calm yourself enough to do so. You'd decided on a plan - you would sneak past the kitchen, go to the pharmacy to buy some sleeping pills and then talk to Harry in the morning.

You brushed your hair and wiped your face clean of any remaining mascara smears, then pulled on a clean set of clothes. It was around midnight but you were currently staying in a bustling South American city - so you weren't worried about the pharmacy not being open.

Your plan was halted though, as the open kitchen space meant that all three lads saw you as you headed to the door, and Harry instantly called you over.

"Y/N, come here." He slurred, his tone already agitated.

"I'm going to the shop." You muttered, pulling on your shoes.

"I don't care, come here." He demanded, and you slowly turned to him.

Louis and Zayn were looking at each other worriedly and as you spotted the orange pot on the counter, you felt heat rise to your face.

"Harry, I-"

"Do you want me to forgive you or not?"

"Dude, what the fuck." Zayn scoffed and Harry's head snapped to him. You used that as an opportunity to leave, quickly shutting the door behind you before making your way to the elevator.

At the pharmacy you picked up some sleeping pills, then went to the shop next door and picked up a little bottle of wine. You were terrified to go back to the room, but you knew that you had to, so you downed most of the bottle before stepping into the hotel, your feet swaying. Perhaps drinking more was a bad idea, but it calmed you considerably. You decided that you would just try to walk straight past the boys and go straight to bed, maybe Zayn would keep Harry distracted for you. They were probably still arguing after all.

As soon as you opened the door though, Harry was pacing towards you, angrier than you'd ever seen him before. You were quick to notice the marks on his face and the mess in the kitchen. A chair was strewn across the floor, a vase smashed, and Zayn was clambering up from a corner, a concerned Louis stood over him. They had obviously been in the midst of a fight. Louis was shouting "What the fuck is wrong with you?" at Harry, whilst Zayn had blood dripping from his hands.

"H-Harry." You began to stutter but he was in your face scolding you before you could continue.

"See how you’re making me act?" He slammed his hand against the door and held it shut, his body towering over you. "All you had to do was stay and talk, but you chose to disrespect me and run away instead. Fuck sake, Y/N! When did you start being like this?"

His breath reeked of liquor and you could see in his eyes that he wasn't himself. He'd never been so aggressive before and it was scaring you.

"I-I'm sorry. Please stop." You whimpered, but he then also smelt the cheap wine on your breath and became even more visibly enraged.

"So you've just gone to a bar? You decided to drink even more after taking all those bloody pills! Are you trying to fucking kill yourself?" He shouted in your face, unmoving even as you flinched.

"Harry stop it!" Louis shouted but was ignored.

"I went to the pharmacy! I wasn't at a bar! Please, I'm sorry Harry. Please stop." You pleaded, feeling your eyes well up with tears.

He lifted his hand from the door for a second and you instinctively reached for the handle, flight mode kicking in, but he spotted your movement and grabbed your wrist, gripping it hard in his hand.

"Get off me! Stop it!" You cried but he scoffed.

His other hand dived for your hoodie pocket, aggressively rummaging around until he pulled out the pot of sleeping pills and the mostly empty mini wine bottle. He gripped them like they were some crucial, convicting pieces of evidence, storming across the kitchen whilst roughly pulling you with the other hand before slamming them down on the counter.

"Get off her!" Louis and Zayn both shouted.

Zayn squared up, puffing out his chest and holding up his fists.

"What the hell is going on?" Liam emerged from his room with a concerned expression but was ignored by everyone as Harry shouted back at Zayn "What and just let her kill herself? Because that’s what she’s gonna fucking do. Stay of my business!"

"I'm not killing myself!" You shouted but also went ignored. Instead, Harry grabbed your other wrist and pulled you so that you were inches from his face, holding you still with one arm whilst the other gripped the pill bottle on the counter.

"If I ever catch you taking anything again, we're over. You understand?" He growled.

"You're hurting me!" You cried and he squeezed harder, making a pained shout come from your mouth.

"Get off her!" Zayn shouted.

"Do you understand?" Harry repeated and you nodded quickly, your heart going a thousand miles an hour.

Then as he let go of your wrists, he did it with a push, sending you to the ground where due to your drunkenness, you landed badly, banging your head.

Things became slightly blurry for a few moments after that, but there was a sudden increase in noise and you could make out two blurred figures colliding into each other. Panic rose in your chest and you felt your breathing starting to get heavy, then a hand touched your side and you quickly flinched away, crying out "Don't hurt me" before your vision started to clear again.

"I'm not gonna hurt you." Louis' soft voice matched with his worried eyes. "I just need to look at your head. Can I do that?"

You took a few moments to respond, groggily pushing yourself up so you were sitting straight and looking at the scene in front of you. Harry and Zayn were fighting and Liam and Niall were seemingly trying to break it up. As they threw punches they were shouting at each other, but you couldn't make out the words they were saying, entirely overwhelmed by the whole situation.

"My head? It hurts." You finally mumbled in response, focusing on the fight and not on Louis' concerned touch. His fingers traced across the back and side of your head and you let out a hiss of pain when they reached a tender spot, coming back stained red.

"Okay, right. We should go to a hospital." He said, containing his panic so as to not upset you more.

You didn't want to go, but you trusted Louis and so you slowly nodded, unable to concentrate on anything other than Harry. Liam had his arms wrapped around his chest and was trying to pull him back but visibly struggling to do so whilst Niall was also struggling with Zayn. Only when you stood up, helped by Louis, and a gush of warm liquid trickled down the side of your face, did the fighting stop as all eyes landed on you.

There was a short second of silence, then Harry gasped.

"Fuck. Are you okay Y/N? Did I do that?" His eyes widened and he quickly stepped towards you, seeming suddenly sober.

You flinched back so that you were stood right against Louis, and Harry's pace stopped, his expression a mix of confusion, anger and worry. Louis put his arm protectively around you.

"We're going to the hospital. She needs stitches." He scowled.

"Hospital? What if paparazzi see you?" Harry slurred to which Louis loudly scoffed "Well you should've thought of that before being a cunt, shouldn't you?"

My first 1D post on here lol believe it or not but I started my fandom life as a directioner when they were on X factor and here I am still loving this shit. I wrote this literally three years ago and completely forgot about it. I definitely intend on finishing the second part I started to write ASAP! The title is (obviously) based off the Mitski song, which will become relevant in part two I PROMISE I hope y’all enjoy this, and sincerely rest in peace Liam Payne. My heart is still broken.

[traumadumpwriter]

I want a friend to talk about my writing with I would love to have a conversation about ideas for certain imagines and I would like to know what their favourite chapters are etc any of u down to be my mutual and help me with my writing? 😅

[midnightinshadow]

[traumadumpwriter]

Something I find annoying as someone who enjoys making moodboards and trailers for my fics is the lack of POC images on Pinterest like I don’t want all of my moodboards to have white girls on them (especially the x reader ones considering these should literally be the most inclusive) but there are literally so few images of black or asian women that come up under the aesthetics I’m searching for (grunge, moody, post apocalyptic etc)

[traumadumpwriter]

Daddy Issues

[traumadumpwriter]

Soo I made something again 🫢 sorry about this one

[traumadumpwriter]

Reminding everyone of this ❤️

[traumadumpwriter]

Daddy Issues

JJ Maybank X Reader

JJ walks into his kitchen in the middle of the night to find you there; visibly high and in his father’s t-shirt. Based off this request.

Trigger warning for mentions of drug use

Word count: 1.6k

Masterlist | Part Two

“Hey, I know you.”

There you were, stood half dressed at five AM in Luke Maybank's kitchen when that voice had rippled across it's silent walls.

You turned to face the source with less urgency than you should've, given the fact that you were in the home of a locally known drug dealer, with multiple beefs and plenty of dodgy clients, and you yourself also weren't entirely sure if there would actually be anyone standing there. When your dilated eyes locked onto the strangely familiar blue ones of another human, your heart skipped a beat and the hairs across your body stood up. Then they fell down again.

"I know you too." You retorted, continuing your casual stumble to the refrigerator.

JJ Maybank was surprised by this. You were so visibly high that part of him doubted that you even knew your own name, let alone who he was. He wondered if you were lying, but then he supposed that you probably would've shouted for his father if you'd not recognised him.

The white light of the fridge made you thin your eyes and wince, and it's unflattering glow emphasised the contours of your restrictive lifestyle. You were still pretty - he thought - beautiful even, but worn. In nothing but a baggy t-shirt, JJ couldn't keep his eyes from wandering down to your long, exposed legs - which were dotted with bruises and different shaped scars.

"What are you doing here? Aren't you a bit too young for my dad?" He scoffed with a playful test of the waters, and felt relieved when your expression displayed no offence.

He imagined that if you weren't so high you might've even smiled. One of the cheeky, "I dare you" ones that he'd examined from desks away when you'd been in high school together.

"It's none of your business. I'm here for a good time, not a long one - or whatever." You mumbled, taking far longer than necessary to pick out a beer from the fridge.

Your brain was slow, foggy and distracted by the appearance of the blonde surfer. JJ was the son of your current dealer - Luke Maybank - and had occasionally interacted with you throughout your messy teenage years. Even through the slight shaking of your vision you could see that JJ was just as handsome as he always had been - the tanned trouble maker you'd spent frequent detentions with, but always kept a slight distance from.

When you finally cracked a can open and brought it to your lips, it felt to JJ as if he'd been staring at you in silence for far too long, and he was momentarily relieved that you were probably too high to have noticed that fact. He grabbed a can from the fridge - the last one - and let the door stay open, wondering if you were going to help yourself to any food too. You certainly looked like you could do with some. But you didn't move.  

You both stood in frozen silence, sipping from your cans and staring numbly into the fridge, as if waiting for something to happen - for more cans to appear.

"Is he awake?" JJ asked after a long sip.

You didn't look up as you answered "No."

Another moment of silence passed, then JJ's eyes flickered up to your face again. Your pupils were still huge, even in the white light, and your jaw was tight, but your body swayed slightly and your eyelids occasionally fell. JJ couldn't pinpoint what exactly you'd been taking - which was rare for him - and this for some reason maximised his concern. He considered himself somewhat of an expert on identifying highs at this point in his troubled life.

"What have you guys been doing?" He asked simply.

Then he saw the first glimpse of real emotion on your tired face; a child peeking through a crack in a porcelain mask - embarrassment halted by confusion, before the numbness resumed.

You said nothing, and took another sip of your beer.

What were you meant to say? Wasn't it obvious? You'd been sleeping with his dad. Did he need you to spell it out for him?

"I already know that you're a pill popper, so there's no point lying about that." JJ smirked, although there was no real amusement in his tone. "But if you're up this late and he's passed out, I'm just curious what you've mixed it with..."

You shrugged and spoke in a casual tone.

"Well, we smoked some bowls and drank too. Luke is more used to rock than me, but I think I'll be able to go to sleep soon."

JJ couldn't explain the pang that rippled through his body. It hurt. His neck shot up straight, and he stared at the beautiful, lost woman he barely knew with burning, unrestrained concern. Your eyelids looked heavy, as did the weight of whatever had landed you in his kitchen upon your shoulders, and he felt sick with the knowledge of how pitiless his father could be - and how twisted he was for using the vulnerability of a girl the same age as his son. He took a considerable gulp from his can before speaking.

"You gotta be careful mixing all that shit."

Even in your intoxicated state, you could hear the underlying seriousness in JJ's tone, which you snorted at.

"Well duh. You think I don't know that?"

"Why are you doing it then? And with my bum-ass dad of all people." JJ scoffed right back.

Your gaze finally unfroze from the open fridge, and you turned to face the strange, handsome, angsty man beside you with a blank stare.

"I don't feel like that's any of your business to be honest, Maybank."

You could see his face properly now, half lit in a dim glow: his features defined yet boyish, with deep, oceanic eyes that stared unyieldingly back into yours. It was uncomfortable, like lasers somehow cutting through your well earned haze, and you wanted to laugh - to make him drop the weird "caring" act - but then he spoke with a quiet confidence that caught you off guard.

"I just don't like seeing pretty faces go to waste, is all. You should look after yourself."

You couldn't speak.

When was the last time someone had said something like that to you? Something laced with palpable care. A genuine compliment.

For a second, JJ saw a crack of vulnerability again; your eyes alive and curious with childlike surprise. He pounced at that moment to continue speaking, hoping that his words would find a space to sink into the swiftly closing crack.

"You should go home."

This time his tone was a lot harsher, and he realised that from the flicker of confusion, that turned into a light crease between your brows. You rolled your eyes and moved a lethargic hand to close the fridge, so JJ quickly carried on - feeling unexplainably desperate to not let you walk back into his father’s bedroom.

"I just mean- you should get away from my dad... I can promise whatever he's giving you isn't worth the bullshit it'll cause."

You stared at JJ, uncertain of what he wanted you to say to that.

You didn't trust or believe him. You couldn't. You didn’t care to.

There was absolutely no man on the planet who you trusted. Not Luke or his son.

What on earth did JJ even want from you? There must've been some ulterior motive. Even with your slouched posture and glazed, red eyes you knew that.

Natural instincts kicked in and you sneered a response, admittedly slurring a few of the words.

"JJ, keep your nose out of my business, okay? I get you're like- trying to be cute or something, probably trying to fuck me, but I can look after myself."

Then you started to stumble away, turning around with an unbothered shrug to head back into the dark cell of Luke’s messy bedroom. JJ was too shocked to speak for a moment; offended and irritated by the rudeness of your presumption.

Why would you assume that he was trying to fuck you? Just for giving some simple advice. How had he given that energy at all? Maybe there was some part of him that did feel bitter for his dad sleeping with a girl he’d had a slight crush on in school, but that wasn’t relevant to the conversation.

"Ha, okay then.” He let out a short, dry, humourless laugh, then stared at the back of your head and cooly added “I just wanna know; are your daddy issues so bad that you actually like fucking the piece of shit, or is it just for the drugs?"

Your steps paused. What was the answer to that question?

He’d caught you off guard again, and you didn’t like that. A part of you felt riled up, ready to turn around and start verbally rinsing him with no limitations, but a bigger part was subdued by the cocktail of chemicals in your body, and so you just shrugged and carried on walking away, leaving the confused, frustrated, handsome boy to stew alone in the kitchen.

He would be gone again before the morning - by which point you suspected that he would be a faded, blurry dot in your memory. You were surprised, however, to find yourself thinking of his piercing blue eyes as you opened the fridge the next day, and you wished that you could remember the entirety of the conversation - instead of just the parts where he’d tried to warn you away.

I knoww this request took me soo long to get to I have like 30 that I am very slowly working through so I apologise for the wait but I hope you enjoy and perhaps there will be a second part in the future :D love y’all stay safe xxx

[traumadumpwriter]

hi bby how ru?? ive been thinking about this jj x reader req for a while, and i was thinking maybe you'd like to write it? if u dont its totally okay tho

basically, he meets her a random night, he's sleeping in his house (wich is weird cause his dad's there, but listen) and he gets up at like 2AM to pee or whatever, and sees a girl about his age sitting on the table.

turns out she's just waiting for luke to comeback (he went to buy coke or.sm).

so like, reader is hooking up with jj's dad, but jj knows her from school, and eventually, after finding her there several times at night, he gets to know her and falls in love with her.

nd maybe u could add some background trauma lf hers (if she's hooking up with luke maybank while being jj's age she has to have some big trauma lol)

thats it hehe, i love ur writings oh my godd

love youu!!

Posting my take on this asap x