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insufferablelust · 4 years

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THE ARTIST AND HIS MUSE (v)

Hi lovely people! it’s me again with the fifth installment of TAAHM, hopefully y’all enjoy this, as always thank you for your support, and excuse the grammatical errors. As i said before, this story is dark themed, so it can get triggering to some people, please read the warning, and read at your own risk.

WARNINGS : BEWARE DARK FIC. SMUT, Angst to the max, Mental Illness (PTSD, with severe anxiety and depression), Some Fluff, hints/mention of Suicide (doesn’t happen), Psychological abuse (in flashbacks), over sensitivity (both sexual and non sexual), hints of Masochism, Anxiety attack, Soft raw tender moments, aaand thats it.

———————

A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive.To him a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. —Pearl S. Buck.

———🍃———

Little did they know, that night is going to be the beginning of a roller coaster ride.

———//———

It was already late when she opened her eyes the next day, her soft sigh occupied the quiet room as she scanned for the one person she craved the most, biting her lips at the cold left side of the bed sheet. However, he’s kind enough to leave the only thing she could reminisce about last night in a form of a long letter note he left on her night table, written with purple ink,

“Good Morning Y/N,

I hope you’re feeling well, although knowing how anxious you can get, i know your mind would wander off and we don’t want that. If you can remember what i said, then good but if you can’t, i said that i left because it’s more convenient for the both of us, not because i don’t want to be with you. Believe me, watching you sleep right now really put an image inside my memory that i’ll never forget, you’re so beautiful.

I hope you don’t mind, but i put on Debussy on your vinyl right now. I want you to know that we’ll still talk about it, preferably today, maybe we can go have dinner unless we have a case. There are things i never got the chance to say, and i think its time i finally tell you, later.

As for your past, we’ll also talk about that too. But i want you to not worry— yes i’m disappointed still, but i know why you did what you did. We’ll figure out a way.

Lastly, please take care.

Spencer R.”

By the time she had finished reading, her internal being is overflowing with emotions, dangerous ones that she won’t be able to control and she knows this. Her eyes teared up at the sight of ‘Classical Lover Etiquettes’ cued up on her record player. Her legs were incredibly sore, as much as her thighs and arms. There was just so much that’s happening, so much to feel, and she needed to escape.

Her feet dragged her to the balcony, inhaling the scent of life, breathe in heavily as she hoped— cross her fingers hoping to die that the amount of oxygen would be able to drown her from all the confusion, even more so the horrors that started to flows back in. Spencer opened a large deep wound that she had buried a long time ago, and then he showed her the way to paradise. He confuses her as much as she probably confuses him.

She wanted to apologize for being complicated, wanted to get on her knees again and show him how much she needs a savior right now; someone to love, and cherish to get her mind off of the horrible things in the past. She wants him to know that he can help her, by guiding her like he did the night before, by owning her like he said the night before, by loving her like he promised. She needs to be devoted to him, she would do anything for him.

She knows how damaged she is on the inside, she put up a persona every day so people could believe that she’s alive. But the only time she ever felt alive was with Spencer. The only time she ever wished she’s not complicated is when she’s with Spencer, His name consumed her like the opiates she used to take. He owned her soul already and she’s not letting that go. Even if the world stands in her way. She deserves this, this pure thing for once.

So she cried, hard. Hard enough for her neighbors to hear, to check up on her, but she wasn’t listening, she stayed crouched down in her balcony, her vision was blurry and she can’t think of anything— only Spencer.

“Spencer..” was the only thing she remembered saying before she witnessed darkness and drowsiness penetrate her eyes as well as her other senses— sending her to sleep.

———————————

Y/N didn’t even flinched when her father’s screams once again filled her ears, telling her how she doesn’t belong, she isn’t supposed to be here, isn’t supposed to exists. She could smell the strong scent of alcohol from his mouth, clouding her senses, but she refused to give in and cry, in fact she doesn’t feel a thing. Moreover, she’s just bored, her father never got violent with her, never laid a hand on her, neither does her step mother— well not when he’s around anyways.

By the age of 9, Y/N already knew what kind of man her father was, the kind that doesn’t want to admit reality, he’s a violent genius who works in the dark, with barriers covering all sides of his life. He never hurt Y/N physically, like he always claimed. But 12 years of psychological torture will fuck you up, she thought. She lived in isolation, and darkness where the only things she knew.. were alcohol, math, abuse, impending death, and screams.

She doesn’t have anyone related that’s nice to her, enough to shield her from all the abuse. The only person that could bring her peace is Mr. Bones, one of her father’s men. He always looked out for her, he gave her hope ever since she was old enough to know that being told you were never meant to be alive was not okay.

“I apologize, papa. It won’t happen again, I swear it.”

Her eyes stayed on the ground as she feels the warmth of his palm so close to her cheek, she yelled in her mind— her mind telling her to scream at the old bastard to “Hit me!”

“Hit me!”

“Make it hurt!”

“HIT ME!”

——

Y/N felt a jolt, her eyes searching for signs of where she might be but she can’t seem to open her eyes, the smell— is clean like iodine, the next thing she felt was the rough yet strangely comfortable sheets that grazes against her skin, And then she heard the talk, someone’s talking.. She recognized the voice well, so well like its imprinted deep in her soul, She tried to open her eyes.. yet she keeps on missing.

“S-she— i found her pale.. she was so pale and cold.. “ Spencer! her mind screamed, that’s Spencer.

“Spencer!” She tried to yell, but still nothing,

“Spencer please!” Nothing.

“What did her neighbor said?” Hotch!

“Hotch please i’m awake!”

“She was screaming, and they found her clutching her shirt tightly, she was crying and she.. she said my name over and over again, before blacking out.. thats why they called me first after calling 911” Is that true? she has been taking her meds, hasn’t she?

“Did anyone said that she was about to jump or anything like that?”

“No! No! Spencer i’m not suicidal!”

“N-no i don’t know.. Hotch i was with her last night, i should’ve—“

“Please don’t cry! please i’m sorry i love you i won’t do it again!”

“Hey no, she looked like she was having a panic attack. Has she ever mentioned anything about being depressed? or experiencing anxiety attacks maybe?”

“no... no... don’t tell him Spencer, you promised.”

“Stop the silence, Spencer you promised you won’t tell anyone.”

“N-no.. not that i know off.. she wanted company so i stayed with her, we watched movie.”

“Spencer...” She tried again, believing that it won’t work, he won’t hear her, maybe she’s not even here anymore— just floating away from her body. But when she saw his head turned towards her, she sighed contently, letting go of all the burden for a second just to hear him mutter her name in silence and peace.

“Y/N... you’re awake wait let me—“ before he could exit the door, Hotch pulled him back a little, telling him that “It’s okay, let me get the doctor.” Leaving Spencer and her alone.

Her heart rate accelerated as he sat down on the chair next to her, eyes filled with worry and fear— Y/N couldn’t take it, couldn’t bare to see how broken he looks, because she was selfish and complicated, because she was damaged.

“I-i wasn’t... trying to.. jump” Her voice came out laced with fragility, all raw and quiet. She’s trying to tell Spencer that she’s alright, as long as he’s here she’ll be alright. “Don’t.. please don’t blame yourself, it was an anxiety attack, a bad one.”

“Have you been taking your meds?” There it is, the question she has been hoping she wouldn’t have to answer. She looked down at his trembling hands, reaching to grab it but unable to do so because she realized now that she was restrained to the bed.

“Why am i being restrained?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“No Spencer i haven’t! now why am i restrained? i’m not a danger to anyone.” Y/N half yelled with a cracked voice, closing her eyes tightly at the tears that’s threatening to spill out of her eyes.

“Miss Bones, i see that you’re awake now.” Her eyes never leaving the sight of her cuffed wrist, ‘did they honestly thought you were planning on killing yourself?’

“I’m not suicidal, i’m an FBI agent for god’s sake.” The tone of her newfound voice surprised everyone including Spencer.

“Then why were you unconscious on the balcony of your apartment?”

“Because i haven’t been taking my pills! look, i haven’t for years now and i was fine. It was just rush of emotions, and i got overwhelmed okay? doesn’t mean i was going to jump. Believe me thats the last thing i would’ve wanted.” The last bit was a whisper, indicating the raw pain behind it. It was the truth, moments before you passed out you were thinking of Spencer, of how he’s your savior.

“Okay, Agent. We believe you, now why don’t you get some rest, and we’ll have you prescribed for something stronger, meanwhile i’m going to take the cuffs off” The doctor replied gently, except you know he’s not a doctor well he is but he’s a psychiatrist. Great, now everyone think she’s crazy.

——————

After the incident, you rarely talked to anyone on your team not because they don’t want to but because you won’t let them. You’ve caused enough pain, so the last thing you want to see is the pity on their eyes and face, it was nice seeing how they care though— sometimes in the mornings you can hear Garcia and JJ dropping new baskets full of goodies and treats for you to try. Sliding a note underneath your door before leaving.

Hotch insisted you to take a month break, which you would’ve tried to argued but you knew you didn’t stand a single chance. You could’ve lose your job, he could’ve fired you for lying about your psychological problems and endangering yourself but he didn’t, though he wanted you to take the break, and do another psych eval, so you agreed.

The bad thing about not going to work, except the obvious fact that you miss your work family and you missed out on catching men women alike your father and his killer— is not seeing Spencer often enough. It made you anxious just thinking how he’s doing constantly, Prentiss has said in a text that ‘he seems okay, just a little off’ in which you ended the conversation quickly, not wanting to let invasive questions spring up to life.

You’ve tried to contact him multiple times, yet he never answered the calls, there was one time where he had responded your text; it was the one after you told him that you haven’t eaten and taken your meds because thats what you do now, pretending like he actually listens you, that day you heard a knock, before finding out that there was a box of pizza; the tuna, with creamy mushroom kind, your favorite. Spencer is the only one who knew about it, so it was him. You cried that night knowing that he was close... yet you didn’t see him.

After that, nothing. Nothing at all, until it was your 17th day isolated in your apartment trying to get better. A therapist from FBI was supposed to come today, checking up on you, Hotch’s order. So when you heard a knock, you opened the door without looking.

“Y/N...”

“Hi you must be the— Spencer?” You eyes went wide as you recognized the person standing at your door, you swear your knees buckled finally seeing him again after so long. His hair seemed longer, his eyes has bags under them, he doesn’t look fine.

“Spencer, you look—“

“Can i come in?” His voice startled you, it was deep, deeper than you remembered it last.

“Yes, yes please come in..” You watched him enter your house, eyes scanning through every bit of everything, probably profiling your condition. So you let out a chuckle as you close the door, “I’m fine Spencer, unless you didn’t notice, i’m doing therapy 3 times a week plus routine visits from every therapist in town it seemed like. So i’m good” the tone of your voice reflects sarcasm and you know it, but how can you help it when he wont even look at you.

“Thats good..” He mumbled, sitting down on the couch where you two talked the last time about your past, you remembered that night’s event so clearly you could’ve sworn you have an eidetic memory. “You haven’t been sleeping have you?”

“no.” you sat down next to him, deciding that you shouldn’t touch him even if you wanted to.

“Why?”

“Because i worry about you.”

“Spencer, i told you i’m—“

“No! no you can’t say that you’re fine, again. do you know what you did me? after the night we had, you basically suffered an anxiety so bad you collapsed on your balcony, while whispering my name. You don’t get to say that you’re fine, i deserve more Y/N.”

You didn’t flinched even once when you heard his voice raised, if anything you just close your eyes and not let the volume of his voice get inside your head, “Everyone who yells is the same like your father, wake the fuck up” is what your mind been telling you but you refused to listen to it, Spencer is good, he’s a good man. So you controlled your breathing for a second before opening your eyes to see Spencer’s face begging for answers.

“You’re right, you deserve answers and you’ll get your answers but can you please listen to me and don’t interrupt? Spencer, i need the space if you want me to tell you, the space to make you understand.” Your palm move on top of his to see his reaction, you expected him to swat your hands away or at least flinched but strangely he let out a pleasant sigh, like he was relieved, like every weight has been lifted off of him.

“Okay, i’m sorry for—“

You cut him off before he could say what he’s sorry for, you don’t need it— his reactions are normal, too normal that it makes you fall in love with him over and over again. “Shh, don’t. You don’t have to explain, you don’t have to respond, just.. wait here, i’ll tell you everything okay..?”

With a nod you get from him, you stand up to make two chamomile teas, bringing it to where Spencer is sitting on the couch, then after you put on Gymnopédie on your record player, you sit down next to him. To your surprise, he leaned and laid his head on top of your thighs, curling up on the couch— which sent a smile to your face, you haven’t smiled for so long and of course Spencer Reid is the one who put your first smile since.. you don’t even remember when.

————

“It’s one of my favorite, I love the serenity of it.” You whispered, as your fingers ran through his soft hair. Relaxing your back against the couch and enjoying the tune of one of your favorite classical of all time. Spencer smiled at that, you swore the smile could lit your insides like nothing else.

“I’m a beethoven guy, but i guess Satie is alright..” He laughs, his laugh sounded like heaven, his smile and laugh makes you dizzy. This is the Spencer that makes your heart pound ten times faster, and the one that makes you lost for words each time, the one that you’ll love... too fast Y/N, too fast.

“Of course you are, it’s not hard to see..”

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

Spencer looked up at you, he looked so pure like this, like he was made to justify every wrong things that has been done, like he’s an angel that protects the earth from filth. He’s pure and tender, it takes all of your willpower to not lean down and kiss him.

“Oh yes, explanation.” You laughed awkwardly, eyes refusing to meet his. “Look at me, please” You shake your head at his demand, your eyes still trailing to where the record player is going.

“Look at me, Y/N.” You did, you looked. Under any other circumstances, the authoritative tone would instantly leave you dripping wet ready to submit to him. But this time, you only whimpered and nods.

“Good girl, now tell me” He cupped your cheeks, the gentle gesture sent you to oblivion.

“I don’t know where to start..”

“I heard the beginning is a great start.” His lips tugged into a wide smile, you heart warmed at the sight before you sigh, your fingers still curling and uncurling itself on his hair.

“I opened up to you that night, it’s something strange for me, i told you something that i swore i would never tell anyone, but i told you because.. because you were right, you are right Spencer. And i guess after that we took it to a whole new different level, i want to be able to do all the things with you and cross all boundaries but it’s something new to me, so that morning when i... woke up alone, it was scary, i felt so small and sad in such a big space. I was overwhelmed, by the thought of letting another person in, i don’t wanna take it slow but then again the transition won’t be easy for me.” Spencer opened his mouth as he was about to say something, but you simply leaned in shakily and press a quick peck on his lips as a sign that you’re not done yet, to your surprise he pulled you down one more time and let the kiss linger this time before letting you pull back, whispering a small “go on.”

“I lived in isolation most of my life, the only taste of real life emotions i ever got was the moment right after my graduation. The man who saved me, he teached me social skills, and the basics of.. of having this gift of rawness emotions. But i’ve been so closed off, i realized its just not possible for me to fall in love or feel such a strong emotion towards another, the only strong emotion i’ve ever known before this was.. hatred towards my father and his killer.

I had PTSD when i was 13, consistent with severe anxiety and depression, at one point Mr.Bones insisted that i...i started talking to myself, admitted me to a psychiatrist where i got my.. antipsychotics for um the voices. But i came out well, and he promised me that if i was able to make it, he would change my identity, stripped me out of my old misery, give me a new one, my father was a very very important man where he worked, so does his men including Mr.Bones. Thats why before i was 21, there’s no record of Y/N Bones existed because.. i didn’t, i never existed.”

Y/N ended it with a smile, looking down at Spencer whose eyes brimming with tears. She shook her head, her trembling fingers wiping the traces of tears. “Hey no no, please don’t cry, please it’s hurt to see you cry..” She whimpered.

“Spencer please say something..” Her eyes pleaded with her, as he sat up, before inching closer to her and before she even processed the warmth of his body, his lips pressed themselves against hers in a gentle loving way. His thumb stroking her soft supple cheek, as his lips took its time to explore every inch of hers, imprinting how it feels so he can remember it all the time. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck as he guided her to his lap, pulling back a little.

They stared at each other for such a long time, before Spencer move his hand downward— tugging on her shirt. “Do you want to?” His voice rise your goosebumps to wake, all the adrenaline rushing through your core as you nod eagerly. “Please”

——————

“Tchaikovsky.”

“what?”

“This is tchaikovsky.” Spencer looked up at her, seeing how needy but beautiful she is, her skin glistening under the dim lights, her lashes are wet, her eyes glassy, and her lips bitten raw. He smiled admiring her before continuing his exploration down her labia, stroking it gently— almost like he’s teasing her.

“yes Spencer this is, Oh god!” you stopped mid-sentence as you felt the warmth of his tongue exploring from her slit up to her clit, flicking the sensitive button gently— Holy mother! doesn’t he know how sensitive she is?

“I’m pretty sure Tchaikovsky isn’t god, Princess.” the doctor giggles as his fingers tracing her tummy gently, caressing every mark every curve every indent every scar so so gently to show her how much he appreciates her, appreciate her beauty— all of it.

“Shut up!” She whined and shuddered as she feels him burying his face against her sensitive pussy, tongue swiping side to side at her slit as his nose bumps against her clit sending intense pleasure throughout her body making her jolt and convulse as she tug on his hair.

“Are you sure that’s wise, princess? i’m the one in charge of your orgasm here” Her legs quivered, his tongue push inside her and explore every inch of her inside— moaning at the taste and catching every drop.

“Sorry! so sorry Spencer, just don’t stop!” Oh how sweet is that, her voice cracked at the end, meaning he’s doing a good job. And the boy wonder does seek for praises sometimes.

“Never planning on it, love.” He mumbled against her pussy before inserting two fingers in, and moving them in a brutal pace whilst her tongue and lips sucking on her clit.

“Oh! Spencer, you’re so good at this” Her eyes shut tightly, as her fingers gripping his hair— she’s practically grinding against his face which he moaned at the sight and taste of her, oh so heavenly.

“C’mon Princess, come for me then i will give you what you’ve been waiting for” oh the way she clenched around her fingers so tightly, made him groaned and shut his eyes tight as he works her over the orgasm

“Spencer! oh! thank you!” Every inch of her skin was burning and her brain was mush. So much pleasure, that she could die happily now. Her body shivers still, when he comes up to leave tiny kisses on her face. “Good girl.” Spencer then align himself at her entrance, sliding the tip up and down her pussy.

“Ready, princess?”

“Yes.. yes please?” With a smile on his face, Spencer bent Y/N’s knees before pushing the tip of his cock inside of her slowly, indulging in the velvety warm walls that welcomed his cock. The feeling is like home. Her mouth agape, as her eyes roll at the back of her head, and her fingers intertwined with his.

He stilled inside her for awhile as he let out grunts of how “so warm and tight, pet” she is. He then leaned down to press a gentle loving kiss on her lips before thrusting his cock in and out of her slowly, keeping the pace light as they both relinquish all the frustrations out, and indulging in each other’s warmth. It’s perfect.

“so— full, Spencer..” Her desperate whimpers was the one that egged him to move faster, thrusting his hips so every-time he thrusted in, the sounds were slapping of skins and their moans. But when one particular deep thrust, her cunt involuntary clenched around his cock and she screamed “Thats it! thats it fuck!”

Spencer grinned, before letting go of her hand to grip her waist, pulling her closer to him then continue to fuck her with a torturous brutal pace, hitting the spot over and over again. “I’m not going to last if you keep- fucking clenching that tight cunt Y/N” He warned, eyes glinting with a dangerous look like how he was that night. Feral.

Strings of plea left her mouth as she arched her back, he was so deep— filling her to the brim and making her feel good.

“Please cum inside me!”

“I will baby, i will. But first you gotta cum alright? can you do that? i know you can, c’mon” His breathing labored as he move even faster, her headboard banged against the wall, and her body bounced. With one final deep thrust, they reached their peak, and shuddered at the feeling. Spencer pulls out before grabbing a wet cloth from the beside table and carefully wiped her sensitive areas, causing goosebumps that were dying down to rise again.

“Swan lake” Was the first thing she muttered as her legs still quivering, Spencer looked up at her confusedly as he set throw the cloth to the dirty hamper and laid down beside her once more, cuddling her to his side.

“What?” he asked, his fingers running through her hair.

“Tchaikovsky’s, Swan lake was playing.” They both laughed at her answer, shaking their heads. It wasn’t until Y/N’s eyes flickered to his hazy ones, that they muttered it together,

“I love you—“

———————

TBC!

As always, TAGLIST is open, blurb requests are also open any genre of course, send them in along with suggestions and/or constructive criticisms! thank you. Just message me or send me an ask :) thank you for supporting. I’M SO SORRY FOR THE REUPLOAD, the TAGS DOESNT WORK TUMBLR IS MEAN TO ME AGAIN❤️

( @blancastans @spencerwaltergubler @slutforthegubes @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @babybloomer @liaabsurd @midnightsubmissives @addie5264 @maybankslut @secretpickleprofessordean )

#spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #dom!spencer #taahm #spencer reid blurbs #criminal minds smut

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xxisxxisxxis · 4 years

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Shining Star | Part One

A/N: I know everybody's stressed right now, and I'm hoping and praying if anyone gets it, they can fight it off. Vitamin C, people. Get you some. Stay rested, keep positive and take care of yourselves. I'm hoping and praying for the best for everyone💜

Okay this is late, but I struggled with how to go about it. I decided to keep this chapter short because it mentions 3 different years and didn't wanna overload yall. The story doesn't skip around like it does in this chapter, it is necessary in the chapter, though, and you'll see what I mean. Thank you so far for the support and love, I can't wait to get into this story like I have with Gateway Drug:)

Pairing: Axl Rose x OC

Words: 1.4k

Warning(s): explicit language

Tag list: @teller258316 @reigns420 @xpoisonousrosesx @oskea93 @blowinmeupwithherlove @redlipscrystalskies14 @sparxx27 @kaitieskidmore1 @sublimeprincesswasteland

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED

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" But he fell in love with her fucked up ways

With her drunken days, yeah, he still stayed

Yeah, he fell in love with her twisted dreams

And all in between, and he'd still sing

Baby, you're a shining star

I like you just like you are

You know you'll always be my baby

Don't cry

You know you're crazy, doesn't phase me

Don't lie

'Cause baby, you're a shining star

I like you just like you are " — Bebe Rexha, Shining Star

-------------------------------------------------------

1988

My ankles nearly roll on each other as I step out of the venue, stumbling in my heels, my heart beat seeming to thump to the rhythm of Lindsey Buckingham's "Trouble" that I can already tell is rattling the speakers of the car I'm being herded to by security.

My sunglasses stay perched on my nose, shielding my light-sensitive eyes from the prying flashes of reporters, reaching hands that are out to get a touch of me from fans, and I zone out the yells and screams of my name and begging to give someone somewhere attention.

The car door is slammed behind me once I get inside the limo and let out a breath of relief, glancing at my company.

I don't even speak, taking my jacket off and reaching into my purse to grab the loaded syringe.

"Axl said you should let up on that stuff, Tans." Steven's slurred voice erupts in my ears, his head leaned back with his own pair of sunglasses guarding his eyes. "Nikki just died, like, two weeks ago."

"Last time, Popcorn, I promise." I lie, wrapping the chain of the crucifix I received for Christmas from my best friend, Vivian, around my arm tightly to act as an aid to let me see my stripped veins better.

I wait until we're stopped at a red light with plenty of lighting from the building's around us to help me see better.

The sting of the needle is temporary before peace consumes me, and I'm collapsing.

I nearly died that night.

It was a couple days into the New Year, and ironically enough I had promised my boyfriend that I’d get sober as a New Years resolution.

I didn’t mean it.

If I had meant it, Steven Adler wouldn’t have been attempting to keep a close friend of his alive for the second time in the last ten days.

At that point I had more money than I knew what to do with, an apartment in New Yok, a mansion in L.A., a gigantic beach house on Tybee Island, two Ferraris, a Porsche, and a Harley Davidson and I didn’t even know how the hell to drive any of it, a new boyfriend that treated me like a fucking princess and was already wanting to marry me, yet I was still so fucking unhappy.

I was ungrateful.

My addiction had nothing to do with being bored and partying to pass the time and then slipping in to something more serious.

I started on coke to lose weight after being told one-hundred and twenty-five pounds only meant I needed to lose an extra fifteen, started drinking heavily to calm myself down before every shoot, then when I started getting molested at least once a month by people in charge of me at my agency and photographers, alcohol no longer did the trick and I started on heroin and anything else that would numb the self-loathing and guilt I had for bringing all of it on to myself by being a sex symbol and never telling anyone “no.”

My issues started as a way of coping with what I did to earn money, and that’s how it ended.

1979

The dim light of the overpowering cinnamon smelling candle dances off the lilac color of my bedroom walls as my stomach nearly bursts from the amount of butterflies multiplying inside of it.

I watch the clock intently, my sweaty palms wiping at my freshly washed sheets as I examine the light purple lingerie I bought with babysitting money.

Hearing a car pull into my driveway, I peek out the window to see Vince get out, carrying a vinyl record enveloped in its skin, and I rub my lips together and give myself a small pep talk.

"Alright, Tans. You got this." I whisper, resting on my knees on the bed, waiting for him to open my door.

When he does, he sees me and looks like he's about to pass out.

"W-what's wrong?" I ask him, softly, and he blinks at me.

"You look great." He replies with a genuine smile, taking his jacket off.

"Thank you." I reply, smiling a little, tucking a blonde hair behind my ear.

"So, uh..." he nervously grins, his finger tips gliding over my thigh as he leans over me. "...Are you sure this time or not?" He asks and I look at him.

Am I, really?

We've been together a couple months and everytime we get closer and closer to homebase, I insist I'm not ready, and I can tell he's getting tired of waiting because everytime we have to stop he's rolling his eyes and getting agitated over it.

"Y-Yes." I fumble out, nodding a little.

He smirks, kissing me for a second, then another, as just as he starts unbuckling his belt, I'm stopping him.

"What is it, Tans?" He asks, the fear in his voice at the chance of me stopping him, yet again, is evident.

"I was gonna put some music on." I giggle against his lips, kissing them sweetly and relief comes off of him in heavy waves.

"Oh, yeah, go ahead." He nods, kissing my cheek.

I get up and step past him to my record player, starting up "I'll Never Love This Way Again" by Dionne Warwick.

Before I can turn back around, he's pulling me into his bare chest, pulling my hair over my shoulder, his fingers lightly brushing down my arms as his lips press into my neck.

"Let me make one slight adjustment." He whispers in my ear and I look at him over my shoulder, nodding slightly.

He's changing out the record in the player in the speed of light and suddenly "Black Dog" by Led Zepplin starts up, and he turns the volume up so it's blaring.

My face slowly falls and I realize this is not about to be like I have pictured it at all.

Our entire relationship wasn't like I pictured it.

1980

It's as if a rug has been snatched out from underneath me, the breath leaving my body, my mind racing along with my heart.

Vince has tears in his eyes, his hands encircling mine.

"I don't...I don't understand." I tell him, my heart feeling like it's going to stop.

"I don't know what else to say about it, Tans." He exhales softly. "I'm sorry, I really am, it just happened, like, I don't--"

"--How does getting another girl pregnant just happen, Vince?" I choke out, starting to cry.

"Tansy, don't...please don't cry, baby." He wipes at my tears and I recoil away from him a little bit.

"You can't sleep with someone else and then call me 'baby' like everything is okay, Vince."

"It is okay, Tansy, alright? It was just one stupid hook up, it didn't mean anything and this doesn't change--"

"--You have a kid, now, Vince! It changes everything!"

"But it doesn't have to." He stays as calm as he can. "I do love you, I really do. We can work through this."

"I can't be anybody's step-mom at sixteen." I shake my head.

He looks like he's going to cry.

Neither of us say anything for several minutes.

"So, that's it...two years...just wasted." He's obviously trying to play it cool, although he's got a hold of my hand again and refuses to let it go.

I lick my tear soaked lips and sniffle, wiping my eyes.

"They aren't wasted to me." I tell him, softly.

He sighs out, blinking quickly before clearing his throat, disguising brushing the tears from his lashes as rubbing his eye.

"Well, it was a good run, Tans." He states, covering his hurt with a smile. "I'll see you around?"

"We're breaking up, Vince. Not two friend's just saying 'see ya later'." I tell him, expecting him to give a bigger reaction.

"I'll see ya later, Tans." He says, and I realize he doesn't want this to ruin the years we were friends before lovers.

I give him a sad smile before reaching across the console of his car, hugging him.

When we pull away, I give him my best smile.

"I'll see ya later, Vince." I reply, getting out of his car for the last time, closing the door on two years of my life I'll never get back, but they were spent with my first love, so well spent they were.

I never spoke to him again, unless it was just nodding to each other in the halls at school, well...before he dropped out, that is, until the following year at one of his first shows with Mötley Crüe.

#axl rose #guns n roses #axl rose x oc #axl rose fanfic #shining star

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dokidoki-tae · 5 years

Note

Oh! Oh! Can you do headcanons of la squadra slow dancing with their s/o? Please :D

Risotto: You were in Risotto’s office, helping him organize his bookshelf. Well, you were bored and took it upon yourself to organize for him. Risotto was distracted by some documents, unconcerned with what you’re doing. As you clean the shelf, you find a vinyl. “What’s this?” A question more to yourself than to him. “A record.” You examine it, seeing if its in good condition. It’s a record of Italian classics. You wonder why he has it. “It was a gift from Ghiaccio,” he answers like he read your mind. “He believes it’s essential that every Italian knows those songs. He’s given them to the others as well,” He says with a bit of amusement. “Do you have a record player?” You look around the office, expecting to find one. Risotto says there is one in their basement but doesn’t know if it still works. You jump to your feet and go to find out. It turns out that it works just fine. It took you a while to figure out how it works, but you manage. As you mess with it and get it to play one of the songs, Risotto comes it to check on you. “I was getting concerned,” he kisses your cheek. “It works!” You point out the obvious, and he hums knowingly. It’s playing an instrumental version of ‘O Sole Mio. You and Risotto stand and listen when you take his hand into your and swing them. “Dance with me?” placing his hand on your hip. You can tell he’s contemplating, needing to finish paperwork, but he couldn’t deny you with that look. “Of course, tesoro,” holding you close rocking to the music, dipping you and twirling you into the night.

Prosciutto: He’s a natural at ballroom dancing in both standard smooth and Latin rhythm dances. You didn’t even know he could move his hips like that! You’re a obviously intimidated because he looks like a natural, and you may know how to dance, but not like THAT. You’d stick out like a sore thumb if you went dancing together, so you always reject him when he asks you to go dancing with him. He eventually persuades you, bothering you until you give in, to go dancing with him, promising that he will be the lead and your body will follow on its own naturally. He buys you an outfit that coordinates with his. As the night progresses, you’re reluctant to admit to yourself and him that you’re truly having fun, knowing he’d give you his signature smug smirk because he proved you right. Looking around, you can tell many people are tired and need a break, even you can see beads of sweat rolling down Prosciutto’s forehead, but he still has a smile on his face. “You look happy,” you point out with a smile. “Huh? Of course. I got to bring you here and show off how dazzling you look,” He pulled you close, “and seeing your beautiful smile was a wonderful bonus,” pressing his thumb on your bottom lip before bringing you into a kiss. Soft music is played in the background, like an intermission for the dancers, and Prosciutto pulls you onto the dance floor. “Don’t you want to rest?” Noting that his face is a tad flushed. “I don’t want to lose an opportunity to be able to hold you close.” Prosciutto hands caress your neck and slide to your shoulder, your back, waist down to your ass, squeezing it, and back to waist, and dance into the night.

Pesci: Is insecure about dancing because he has two left feet. Is very likely to step on your toes if you tried dancing. One time, Prosciutto moved the furniture in the living room to make space to teach him (and you) the waltz, foxtrot, and tango. He uses you to demonstrate and you can see Pesci pout (he’s a little jealous) and then he uses Pesci to demonstrate. You pick it up pretty quickly; you’re not amazing, but you don’t look like a fool. Pesci, on the other hand, is having difficulty and can’t manage to remember the basic steps. Prosciutto gets frustrated and yells at him until he’s had enough and leaves. Pesci mopes and staggers to his bedroom and you follow, concerned. You rub his back, assuring him it’s okay. He doesn’t need to learn those fancy dances. He isn’t looking at you but you hear a sob and it breaks your heart. You’re determined to make him happy, so you get his (or your) music player and play a classic ballad. You take his hand and pull him up and hug him. You go and place his hand on the small of your back and take his other hand and entwined it with your own and being swaying. It’s not classy like Prosciutto’s teaching, but that doesn’t matter at all. Being close to him is enough. Not long after, a smile works a way onto his lips, and he hugs you closer and follows your lead.

Formaggio: Any kind of slow dancing happens when it’s nearing the end of the night and the bar you’re at is near closing. When you get there, you and Formaggio are dirty dancing and grinding on each other, drinking and taking shots. As the night ends, the staff cleans around you. You two are regulars, so they don’t kick you out immediately. In fact, the DJ continues to play music but it’s slower; sentimental ballads, if you will, and the staff is cleaning around you. They are amused that you two can go from dry-humping to sweetly and romantically (though drunk) dancing. You’re holding each other’s weight, making sure neither lose balance due to being slightly intoxicated. Formaggio is chuckling and nuzzling into the crook of your neck and inhaling your scent. He is whispering how much he loves you and wants to hold you forever and how he promises to be with you until you’re old and wrinkly.

Illuso: It was your one year anniversary with Illuso, and he was nowhere to be found. You left calls and messages and even contacted his team about his whereabouts but they were no help. It’s not that they didn’t know; “It’s classified,” they said. Illuso usually tells you when he’s gonna be gone on long missions, but he didn’t say anything this time. So you were debating whether to be pissed or worried for him. As the day ends, you get a call from him. You’re frantic and ask him if he’s alright, if he’s hurt, is he stranded somewhere. You hear the exhaustion in his voice, explaining that he is alright, but how he was sent on a mission unexpectedly and didn’t have time to contact and pauses. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you to celebrate tonight, Amore. How can I make it up to you?” You can hear the sincerity in his voice. You want to hold him close and tell him it’s okay, but you just got to settle with reassuring him that he doesn’t have to, that it’s fine, “work is more important I know.” Even though that’s not the meaning you intended, those words cut him. ‘Nothing is more important than you, Amore,” He wanted to say. “Can I see you tomorrow?” He laughs. “Of course.” With that, you say your goodnights and you go to bed at ease. At 3am, you wake up to noise, music to be specific, outside your mind. You peer outside and see Christmas lights hanging on your tree and lights wrapped around the trunk. It looks beautiful. You see Illuso and a boombox playing a soothing melody. “You said you wanted to see me tomorrow.” You gawk, surprised by this sudden display, but laugh immediately and proceed to run outside and throw your arms around him. You’re only in a t-shirt and your underwear, but you don’t care. He looks at you, examining and memorizing every detail of your face before kissing you deeply. The music plays before you, coaxing you both to dancing to its rhythm until Illuso is ready to carry you to bed.

Melone: You and Melone have left a decent restaurant and had a bit to drink especially you. You’re clinging to Melone, laughing in his ear and kissing his cheeks, his ears, his forehead, his eyelids, everything. Melone is laughing along with you returning your kisses with just as much fervor. Neither of you have plans on going back to either of your homes anytime soon and want to enjoy your time together. You’re walking down the beautiful coast of Naples, watching as the sun sets. Melone takes you to some places near the area to make sure you sober up when you come across a band that’s playing music outside a bustling restaurant; you decide to stop there. You nestle in Melone’s arms, watching some of the other couples dance. When the band starts playing romantic music, you watch as the young couples go back to their seats with only the older ones staying behind to dance with their lover. Melone gentle pries you away and moves to bow in front of you, holding out his hand. “May I have this dance?” He flashes a charming smile and leaves a kiss on your hand. Melone is never one to shy away from showing off his love for you. He wanted to make a statement to those other couples but also wanted to show you and how perfect you are off. You’ve danced with him many times and this wasn’t any different. The way you moved together, the way your hands fit so well together, how your breathing was synchronized. You knew Melone was thinking it too. How you two were fated to meet, find each other, and be together.

Ghiaccio: He will not slow dance where anyone will see him. He will not slow dance in front of strangers; he will not slow dance in front of his team. He has a paranoia that they will laugh at him, and he hates being laughed at. But if you’re playing soft music while having a stay-at-home date then MAYBE he will humor you with a dance. It’s all leading up to that moment, you want him to hold you tenderly; you want to hold HIM tenderly. You grab his arm and try to tug him off the couch but he’s holding on like his life depended on it, yelling that he doesn’t want to dance. Eventually, you give up and slump your shoulder and pout and go to sit down on the chair at the opposite side of the room and face away from him. You hear a “tch” and you sit there in silence for a while until you feel a tap on your shoulder. Ghiaccio is extended his hand, signaling to take it. You do and make no comment because you know he’s gonna treat into himself again. He pulls you close, pressing your hips together and wraps his hands around your waist. Even like this, he still has that angry scowl. You lean in and lovingly rub your nose against his and wrap your hands around his waist too. His face softens as the song nears its end and is replaced with a look of tenderness.

Sorbet and Gelato: Sorbet is at the kitchen table, counting the stacks of cash from his and Gelato’s latest mission. You and Gelato are in the living room, drinking and conversing about irrelevant things and eventually singing “ Con Te Partiro” obnoxiously and horribly, laughing as you did. In time, Sorbet has had enough and is marching to the living room to put an end to your shenanigans. “I’ve had it with you two! Can’t you behave like adults?” He crosses his arms and taps his foot, finding Gelato in your arms with his legs wrapped around your waist as you wobble back and forth. You and Gelato look at each other and laugh. You put Gelato down and grab Sorbet and bring him into your arms. “Loosen up, Sorbet,” you smirk and pat his butt. Gelato starts humming “Con Te Partiro” but this time he does it well. Gelato is actually a very good singer with an angelic voice, but he likes to come off as unpleasant as possible. Your hands are rubbing circles into Sorbet’s upper back, hoping to ease some of the tense, and he eventually does relax and give into your rhythm. Gelato continues to hum as he moves and places himself between you and Sorbet, who rolls his eyes at his lover’s antics. Gelato his facing you, puckering his lips to get you to kiss him, which you do. And he turns and does the same to Sorbet, who withholds the kiss before giving in. You rest your body on Gelato’s back, who then nestles himself in Sorbet’s chest. Holding his lovers in his arms has Sorbet breaking his facade, smiling warmingly knowing he has his lovers by his side and begins humming his own soft melody.

#lulicchi #jjba #jojo hcs #risotto nero #prosciutto #pesci #formaggio #illuso #melone #ghiaccio #sorbet and gelato

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