#(( that anxiety was almost crippling. finally having the babies you worked so hard to have? with death looming? L A T C H E D. ))

[firstwcman]

Clutching co-sleeping fanart with a death grip bc absolutely yes, this woman had such severe separation anxiety with her babies.

[munsonology]

may i ask you for a fluff story with eddie? i feel very lonely and have cried my eyes out, because my exams drain me and i’m fully exhausted, i’m doing my best to not forget eating and staying hydrated. i have crippling anxiety disorder. i’m a girl with disability, so my spine hurts out of the pressure.

can you write some blurb or fluff about eddie taking care of me? <3 like making a cuppa of tea, hugging me, reassuring that he loves me and I will make it. i would be beyond thankful!!

Of course my love! I'm so sorry you're having a hard time right now. Know you are never alone ❤️ Thank you for letting me write this for you and for being patient while I figure out balancing requests and other things!

As soon as you stepped out of the science building and saw Eddie's rickety van illegally parked you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. You'd been going nonstop for the past month. Between work, studying, and exams you barely had time to eat, and you definitely didn't find time to sleep.

Eddie was growing concerned. You fell asleep on the couch last night, your astronomy textbook in your lap long forgotten. From how clean the kitchen was he knew you didn't eat the dinner (spaghetti and hotdogs, a Munson family delicacy) he prepared. Back in high school, it wasn't unusual for you forget to take care of yourself during finals. When Eddie wasn't around, your friends were there to give you the support you needed.

Now that you and Eddie were on your own, you working part time while going to college and Eddie working at the hottest record store in the city, he took caring for you very seriously. He felt he owed it to you. His sacrificing himself to save you and Dustin was the reason you went back to the trailer. You fought a hoard of demobats with a can of Steve's Farrah Fawcett hairspray and a lighter. In exchange one had grabbed you by the shoulders with it's talons, carrying you to the Creel House, before dropping you from the sky when El defeated Vecna.

While Nancy put her first aid skills to use with Eddie, Steve searched for you in the woods of Upside Down Hawkins. He found you barely alive, carrying you to the gate. You and Eddie went through surgery and rehab together. While Eddie's wounds had healed, you were having a harder time. The drop broke your back, it almost killed you. After your initial rehab, your doctor suggested another surgery but you decided against it. You wanted to feel normal again, or as much as you could.

You trudged toward Eddie's van. Black Sabbath blasting from the speakers. Eddie was playing air guitar during the solo, a head of flying curls all over the place. He jumped when he heard the slam of the door. Eddie turned down the volume of the music.

"Jesus Christ! Why didn't you tell me you were here. I could've helped you get in," he says running a hand through his mop.

"Didn't want to disturb," you respond with a tight smile.

"You'd never disturb me, my little star."

His little star. You beamed on the inside. Eddie had been calling you that since you finally declared astronomy, "Astrology?! My girl's going to find zodiac signs and shit. I'm so proud of you, baby!" as a major. You didn't have the heart to correct him.

Eddie put the van in drive and pulled off toward your shared apartment. The breeze from the open window felt nice on your hot skin. It was the first time in what felt like weeks you'd felt air that wasn't from an appliance.

Parking the van in Eddie's usual spot and walking up the stairs was a blur. Eddie carried your backpack while guiding you to the apartment. Once inside you made a beeline for the couch. You let out a breath when the plushy cushion met your back. A housewarming gift from Joyce and Hopper.

Eddie tossed his leather jacket next to you before sitting down on the coffee table in front of you. He took off your shoes and socks. Picking the lint from your socks off your toes he started to massage your feet. "When did you get a foot fetish, Munson?" you asked sleepily.

"The first time I saw your painted toes in sand on that trip to the beach."

Eddie brings your toes to his mouth. You playfully kick at him and he laughs before trying to tickle you. A serious look comes across his face. "I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh, here comes the speech." He doesn't waver. "Oh. You really mean talk."

He nods. "You worry me, sweetheart. I know--" he pauses, "I know it's coming up on the two year anniversary. You don't have to rely on yourself. I can handle whatever you throw at me."

"Eddie--"

"Have you had a meal today? You haven't come to bed in days. I refuse to let you wither away. It's time for a change. Starting now."

"Now?" you question. He offers a hand to you and you take it, you always would. He leads you to the bathroom. A light fragrance takes you by surprise. Is that...lavender?

Eddie turns the lights on and your eyes nearly pop out your head. The bathroom is decorated with candles, the bath full with bubbles. "Eddie! You could've burned the building down leaving these candles up!"

"I know, that's why I called reinforcements. The gang came by to help set this up. The candles aren't even the best part."

He sits on the edge of the tub and turns it on. "We have jets now! You can have a full Swedish massage right at home." he giggles.

"What--How can we afford this?" you ask.

"Hopper knows a guy who works in plumbing. Gave him the family and friends discount. Just had to install it myself, and by myself I mean Wayne and Hopper did. I supplied the lemonade."

Tears pool at your eyes. No one except your family had ever done anything like this for you. "You did this for me?"

"For us, sweetheart. I want to be with you forever, for however long you'll have me." Eddie touches your forehead to yours. His scent was like coming home. Old Spice and Irish Spring.

"I love you Eddie Munson," you say with a sigh.

"I love you too, future Mrs. Munson."

Your feet feel wet. You look toward the tub seeing the water overflowing. "Ed! You didn't turn the water off!"

He rushes to the tub, slipping on the floor mat and falling right on his ass. "Maybe we can start relaxing tomorrow."

[watchmegetobsessed]

Don’t Worry - Harry Styles

a/n: i’m so excited about this!!! this fic is my take on the song Don’t Worry by The 1975 for @harrystylescherry ‘s Playlist fic challenge! it took me a lot longer to finish this one, mostly because i chose to write about a topic that’s painfully close to my heart and life and i hope to help those of you who are struggling with similar problems. it’s a touchy subject and i really hope i can at least help just for a little by putting this piece out! also, huge thanks to Nat for this challenge and i can’t wait to read all the other fics!!

warning: eating disorder, lots of self-hatred but even more fluff and love!

word count: 3.8k

masterlist

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip a little harder than they should, it’s starting to feel painful but you don’t even realize. You’re way too fixated on the Instagram post in front of you, swiping through the same four pictures over and over again, crippling anxiety crawling up your spine, clouding your every thought.

Oh how you wish you could say that you’re not the jealous type. Well, in a way, you are not. You don’t think your boyfriend would ever cheat on you or leave you, that’s just not him as a person. Your jealousy roots in your insecurities about your body and it creates more of a confusion in your head about why Harry, your boyfriend of three years is really dating you when he could have anyone, any model or super gorgeous singer, actress out there, yet he settled for… you.

Your thumb swipes across the screen again as you keep staring at the bikini photos Kendall Jenner has recently posted. She is stunning, the perfect model type with her long legs, skinny torso and snatched waist. Hell, she could make you question your sexuality on other days even, but today she is feeding your burning insecurities.

The thought that at one point in life, your boyfriend was with her makes you feel sick, because you are simply nothing like her. In every sense, you are what others like to call curvy, however you often use other terms, some not too nice ones on your worse days. Your hips are wide, holding quite some meat on them, your full thighs never heard of such thing as thigh gaps, not even when you were a kid. Your tummy brings you a headache sometimes when you want to wear something tight, the urge to hide it stronger than your fashion sense. It’s been ages since you last dared to step out of the house without a bra on, your full breasts always need the support if you don’t want them to sit a little lower on your chest than what you prefer. There are rolls, extra skin, stretch marks and all that jazz on your body and has been for a long time. No model looks like this and you are more than aware of that. But if your boyfriend can get any of them, why did he settle for you?

Tears are threatening to roll down your cheeks when you finally close the app and stop staring at Kendall’s perfect body. You ball your hands to stop them from shaking as you make your way to the bathroom in need of some freshening up. The cold water in your face feels nice, but the moment your eyes fall on your reflection you almost cringe at your own sight, as if it’s a reminder of everything you thought about in the past hour.

What is Harry doing with someone like me? The question keeps playing in your head on repeat and you wish you had a relevant answer, but your tainted thoughts keep bringing you back to the same point: He surely will realize it himself and leave me.

You try your best to shake it all off your mind, but it’s not easy. Sitting at the dining table you busy yourself with some work you brought home, hoping the files will keep your wandering thoughts at bay, however the attempt is not quite successful. And then you hear the front door open and close, followed by Harry’s sweet greeting.

“I’m home, baby!” he calls out and you can tell he is in a great mood just from his voice. You force your best fake smile to your lips, not wanting to ruin his mood with your petty party. He walks in, eyes falling on your sitting figure at the table and though you don’t know it, his heart flutters, like always, even after three years together.

Harry is obsessed with you, to say the least. Every little thing about you fascinates him, he loves everything about you, inside and out, just the way you are and he vowed to never stop telling you how much he adorns you.

“Hey there, wha’cha doin’?” he asks, kissing into your hair as he scans over the papers on the table.

“Oh, just… some extra work,” you shrug, chewing on your bottom lip again, the skin is about to break soon for sure.

“Baby, you work too much. Take some time off,” he tells you, shuffling around before he disappears in the bedroom for a moment before reappearing. “Fancy taking a bath with me?” he offers with a cheeky smile.

Bath, for that you��d have to be completely naked in front of him. That cannot happen in this state of mind.

“Um, I want to finish this. Maybe next time,” you tell him with a faint smile.

“You sure? I could massage your shoulders the way you like it so much, we could try that new bath salt we bought.”

“I really want to get this done, H. You just go and enjoy your bath,” you insist, the stern voice catches him a little by surprise.

“Everything alright baby?” His eyebrows pull together as he watches you from across the room.

“Mm, everything is fine. Just… working,” you tell him, eyes on the papers in front of you, pretending like you’re reading the lines, but in reality you have absolutely no idea what the words are saying. You hear him mumble a soft alright before he disappears again, leaving you alone.

A shaky breath leaves your trembling lips once you hear the water running in the bathroom. You bury your face in your palms, feeling so defeated and lost, the only thing that would comfort you would be Harry, but he cannot know what’s been going on in your head. He would never understand the struggle.

These thoughts usually only last for a few days. You always manage to forget about them eventually and return to normality, but not this time. Days turn into weeks and you find yourself sinking deeper into the hole you created for yourself. It starts to effect more parts of your life too. You’re having a hard time sleeping, always waking up several times during the night and sometimes you don’t even fall back asleep after one point. You lose your appetite, your mind tells you that you don’t need the nutritious food, that you need to lose the fat because that’s the only way you can keep Harry. You stop wearing your favorite clothes, always opt for the looser ones that hide every inch of your body and spend way too much time zoned out. You keep catching yourself completely lost in your thoughts during the day, thinking about how Harry might be comparing you to his exes every time he sees you, especially naked.

It’s been long since the last time you were intimate with Harry and you feel so bad for it, but you haven’t been able to bring yourself to bare your body in front of him. You always blew him off with some lame excuse and though there’s a chance he didn’t catch onto whatever was going on, now you know he is suspicious.

And you’re right. Harry notices every little thing, all the changes you’ve been going through. How you leave half your plate uneaten at dinner or how he finds you lying awake next to him in the middle of the night. He also notices how your favorite dresses and shirts remain untouched through the weeks even though you always wear them whenever you have the chance. Instead, he only sees you in big hoodies and loose pants, hiding the delicious curves of your body. But what truly pains him is how you’ve been ignoring all his tries to get close to you, the way you move away from his touch.

The last straw however happens on a Friday afternoon. You are sitting on the couch, mindlessly clicking through Netflix on the TV, trying to find something to watch when Harry is roaming through the cabinets in the bathroom, looking for the lotion he only uses when his skin feels extremely dry. He is going through every drawer and shelf, not finding what he is looking for, but then something odd catches his attention. Some weird named pills are sitting at the back of one of the shelves, hidden behind your perfumes so he hasn’t noticed it, but as he takes it out to have a better look at them, he almost throws them across the room. He has heard of similar pills before, they do more harm than help in weightloss, ruining your digestive system so badly you can actually get way more serious health problems if you use them too long. He frantically tears the box open and see that one third of the pills are gone, meaning that you’ve been taking them for a little while now behind his back.

With the box in his hand, he marches out to the living room where you are still and holding the pills up, he needs everything in him not to flip immediately.

“What the fuck are these?” he grits through his teeth. Your breath gets caught in your throat, he was never supposed to find those, but the cat’s out of the bad and now you can’t think of anything to bring up to your defense, knowing well he very much does not approve these kind of stuff.

“They are… I’m doing a cleanse,” you say, but there’s no use to lie.

“Drinking juice is for cleansing, this shit ruins your body,” he spats, throwing the box to the couch and you bite into your bottom lip, feeling the tears building up already. “Why would you even think about taking these?”

“Why?” you chuckle bitterly, your vision blurry from the tears. “Oh come on, don’t be so oblivious.”

“Y/N, these stuff are dangerous!” his anger turns into despair and concern as he sits beside you on the couch. “Baby, why did you take them?”

“Because I’m desperate, Harry!” you snap at him, the hot tears running down your cheeks. “You have no idea what I go through every fucking day!”

“Then talk to me! I want to know everything, I want to help you!” he pleads, reaching for your hand but you move away from him. “Please talk to me, baby!”

“So you can feed me lies? I’m not naïve, Harry,” you shake your head vigorously.

“What are you talking about?”

“Me! I’m talking about… this,” you growl gesturing at yourself. Harry runs his gaze down your body, but he still can’t figure out what this is about. You look beautiful, you always do in his eyes, he has no idea what the matter is. “I’m not one of your exes and all those models you’ve been rumored to date, Harry.”

“Okay and why is that relevant?”

“Because how am I the right person for someone like you? I’m not skinny, I’m not pretty and I’ll probably never be anything like the girls you dated. Why are you even wasting your time on me?”

By the time you get to the end, your tears are flooding and it breaks Harry’s heart to see you like this. Feeling so unworthy when in his eyes, you deserve everything. You’re perfect.

“I’m not wasting anything on you, baby. Why do you even want to look like them? I love every inch of your beautiful body!”

You flinch at his words. Deep down you know he means them, but there’s this barricade on your mind that tells you he is not serious, that he is only saying those things because he feels like he has to say them, not because he means them. That evil little voice in your head keeps telling you not to believe anything he says.

How could he love your body? How could a man like him be okay with someone like you? He doesn’t want to be with you. He’ll realize it and leave you!

You wish you could turn it off, you wish there was a switch that would shut out all these thoughts, but they just keep coming and coming. Harry watches you break right in front of his eyes and he has no idea what to do, panic is setting in. He feels like a failure that he let you reach this point.

“Baby, I fucking love you. Everything about you. Please don’t feel like you have to change for me. I love you no matter what, I think you are the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. If you want to change, do it because you want to do it for yourself! You don’t have to change for me!”

He is practically begging, desperate to get you to understand that you’re perfect to him just the way you are, that he is in love with every inch of your beautiful body. He reaches out to your face again and though you move away again and it pains him so much, he still goes through with the action and cups your face in his hand. His clammy palm meets your wet cheek as he turns your head so he can look into your eyes, but you are relentlessly keeping your gaze focused anywhere but him.

You can’t bear looking at him or yourself, you just want to disappear, vanish into nothing, existence right now feels like just too much.

“Love, please look at me,” he quietly begs and you shake your head no. “Please, let me see those beautiful eyes I love so much.”

You wince at his words and try to turn your head away, but he cups the other side of your face with his other hand, keeping it in place. Your eyes are wired shut, you just can’t look at him, it would break you.

Harry is kneeling next to the couch now where you are curled up, your arms wrapped around your knees as you try to hide yourself. You feel so lost, so miserable and you wish he didn’t see you like this.

“I can’t, Harry. I can’t,” you tell him shaking your head vigorously. Part of you feels so stupid for acting like this, but you just can’t help it. It’s not you anymore who is in charge of your mind and actions, you feel more like just a witness who sees herself from the outside and she doesn’t like what she sees, not even a bit.

Harry pushes himself up from the ground and takes the thick blanket from the back of the couch, draping it over you as he shimmies himself next to you, arms wrapping around your frame as he pulls you to his chest, covering you with the warm blanket as if it was some kind of shield from the world and that’s exactly what you need. A hiding spot.

You let him pull you to him, face buried into his chest as you sob into his shirt, his strong arms holding you so tight, you feel like nothing can hurt you with his hold around you.

“I love you, baby. I really do. And when I tell you I find you gorgeous and that how pretty I think you are, that’s the truth. I love everything about you. Fell in love with you the first time I saw you and I’m not even joking. Please don’t ever think that you have to change for me.”

“But I can’t stop thinking about how I’m so different from the people you’ve dated,” you whimper shaking your head. His hands squeeze your upper arm as he kisses the crown of your head.

“Different is not bad, baby. I didn’t date my previous girlfriends because they looked the way they did. If I’m thinking about it, I should feel a little offended you think I’m so shallow to care about these stuff,” he jokes, earning a faint huff that’s somewhat a laugh from you.

“I just think that you’re not blind.”

“That is correct,” he chuckles. “I’m not blind, that’s why I find you so incredibly sexy.”

“I really don’t see how you can use the word sexy to describe me,” you mumble closing your eyes as a headache is starting to form from how hard you were crying just a minute ago.

“What do you think there is on you that I shouldn’t find attractive?” he prompts the question in all seriousness.

“Please don’t get me started because we’ll never get to the end of the list,” you huff bitterly. It might have come out as a joke but there’s just plenty of the truth behind your words.

“No, seriously. Tell me what you think I don’t find attractive on you,” he nags and you give up with a sigh.

“Okay, I… I have fat rolls on my stomach,” you start off with the first thing that’s on your mind.

“Everyone has them.”

“But not as big as mine. Yours aren’t as big as mine.”

“So what? I love your tummy. It’s soft, keeps your organs safe, especially the ones that will help us start a family at one point. For me, your tummy means that you are enjoying the wonderful foods of the world, that you are well and have a great appetite. I fucking hate it when girls are just poking around their salads, complaining about calories and all that stuff. Do you have any idea how much I enjoy watching you eat? I think it might be a fetish at this point,” he chuckles, making you laugh as you hide your face in his chest.

“Please don’t say that.”

“Why? I love it when you enjoy the food, I love trying new food with you, cooking with you, see you satisfied when you’re full, you have no idea how happy that makes me.”

“Really?” you ask in a whisper.

“Absolutely. I love your tummy, it’s just even more of you to love on,” he hums kissing the top of your head. “Okay, what’s next?”

“I have so many stretch marks,” you whine with a scowl. “They are everywhere, on my thighs, my ass, my stomach, fucking everywhere!”

“I literally have nothing else to say than… I couldn’t care less. Honestly, most people have them, baby. It’s natural, your body is changing, it’s just trying to keep up with the pace. But you know what I’m looking forward to?”

“What?”

“I can’t wait till you have marks from pregnancy, Love,” he huffs dreamily and you can’t help, but smile at his words. “Those marks will be a reminder to me how much you’ve gone through for our family. I think those are just so wonderful.”

“Why are you linking everything with having babies?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asks chuckling. “Because I can’t wait to have babies with you. I can’t wait to see you with a big belly, so I can love on you, take care of you and that our babies, I’m so excited for that.”

“You want all of that… with me?”

“Have I not made it clear to you?” he asks, looking down at you and moving your head your eyes finally meet his. “I’m not just saying all those things for nothing, Love. I see my future with you.”

Closing your eyes you let his words sink in and for the first time in a while, your mind is not trying to convince you that he is not telling you the truth.

“Okay, next,” he mumbles, his fingers dancing up and down your arm as he holds you tight.

“My boobs are weird,” you say out loud, cringing at your own words. You hate talking about this.

“Excuse me? What’s wrong with my girls?” he gasps, making you laugh.

“They are not as round as I would want them to be, a little saggy because of the weight gaining.”

“But they are boobs,” he points out, making you furrow your eyebrows.

“Yeah?”

“Okay, so that’s all that matters. Boobs are great, nothing else matters. Men are simple, baby.”

“I can’t believe you,” you laugh swatting his chest playfully.

“What? I mean it! Do you think I think about all that stuff when I see your boobs? My mind goes: Oh my God, boobs! And that’s it. I just get excited to see your tits.”

“You are such a pig,” you laugh, snuggling closer to his side.

“Are you shaming me for my preferences now?”

“Your preferences?”

“Yeah, you are my preference,” he remarks smugly, kissing into your hair again. “I literally don’t know how to say it differently, and I’m sorry for being so vulgar in advance…”

“Oh God,” you mumble, already fearing what he’s going to say.

“But you have nothing to worry about until you see my dick getting hard at the sight of you.”

“That was highly inappropriate.”

“Yeah, but it’s true. I find you sexy and there’s evidence. I can’t really hide it,” he chuckles and when you look up at him you see a dirty, twisted smirk on his pink lips. “Please don’t ever doubt any of my feelings for you, alright?” he asks in a more serious tone. “And if you feel like this again, I want you to tell me. Those pills and bottling it up inside you don’t help. I don’t want you to risk your health just because you have doubts about me. I love you, and when I say that I mean that I love all of you. Everything.”

“Okay,” you answer in a faint whisper.

“Don’t just say okay because you want me to get out of your hair. Promise me that you won’t keep it to yourself. I want to help you, I want to be there for you like you are always there for me.”

“I promise,” you nod, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip.

“Alright. Have you eaten today?” he softly asks and you fear to give him an answer, because you haven’t been able to push anything else down than just your morning coffee. “Okay, then let me make you something.” “I don’t… I’m not hungry…” you quietly tell him.

“Mhm, then I’ll make something for myself and being the romantic boyfriend that I am, I’m gonna share it with my lovely girlfriend as a cute gesture,” he says, rephrasing what he said earlier. You don’t argue with him, just let him slip out of your hold and go to the kitchen to make something for the two of you.

It’s a tiny step on a lifelong journey and you know that. You know that your feelings and opinion about yourself won’t change from one day to the other, but you slowly start to accept it. You have a lot ahead of you, the road might get bumpy sometimes and maybe other times you’ll have to take a few steps back. But at the end, you know it’s all going to be alright, because you will never be alone. Harry will be your greatest support through it all and now you can finally see that.

Don’t Worry - The 1975

When you're in love but you don't know what to do with it When blackness hangs overhead like a cloud

Don't worry, darlin' 'Cause I'm here with you Don't worry, darlin' The sun will shine through

When you wake up and you don't know what day it is When the pain flows through your heart and your bones

Don't worry, darlin' 'Cause I'm here with you Don't worry, darlin' The sun will shine through

When you feel no one knows just what you're goin' through When your insides feel much colder than snow

Don't worry, darlin' 'Cause I'm here with you Don't worry, darlin' Oh, don't worry, darlin' Don't worry, darlin' I'll always love you You

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[highstwildflower]

Less is more darling

Warnings: Mature, Smut

The heat had been unbearable in LA for the last few days. The outside felt like a sauna and being inside felt like a crime. Moaning you moved through the house looking for Ashton. When you found him he was busy with his phone, while talking to the person on the other end a smile spread on his beautiful features. You tried to ignore how beautiful he looked, distracting yourself you drank a large glass of water. Few minutes later Ashtons happy laughs filled your house "Guess what y/n. We are going to a pool party at Sierra and Luke's! Go get ready baby!" His voice was thick with excitement as you gulped down the water. Ashton lifted a brow at you, he had expected you to be bouncing off the walls or at least to match his own excitement. Before he had a chance to say anything you gave him a quick kiss before making your way to your closet.

Arriving at the party you clutched Ashtons hand in your own. Before you made it inside he was pulled away from you, as always. Normally you wouldn't mind, but lately you had needed him whenever you were in social situations. You hadn't voiced it to him or anyone for that matter, but your anxiety had hid new levels and it was affecting you in numerous ways. Only a few moments late you found yourself talking to the girls. Sierra was a close friend of yours and the next best security blanket, when Ashton was busy. The other girls who were speaking with you and Sierra was beautiful, absolutely goddesses. It was like that in LA, looks meant everything and sometimes that was the most hurtful thing to think about. You couldn't help your eyes from wandering down to the chests of the girls around you. You had always been on the lean side, and your boobs were nearly invisible, most of the time you didn't mind but right now you felt like crawling into a hole and hide forever. The feeling of being less of a woman, even less of a human began to creep into your body. Trying your best to shake the feeling you searched for Ashton, but your heart dropped when you saw him deeply engaged in conversation with a beautiful busty woman. You trusted Ashton, he was surrounded by beautiful humans all the time and life would be very tough if you did not trust him. But right now you couldn't help the burning pit at the bottom of your stomach, tears began to pool at your inner corners. Quickly you excused yourself and found a corner to lick your wounds in. You tried to calm yourself as your breath was uneven but it felt hopeless, the people behind you were having the time of their life while you silently were falling apart, even Ashton were unaware of your current state of mind.

But across the pool Ashton had noticed how you were covering yourself with you sundress even though everybody else were left in their bathing suites only. He also noticed how his beautiful bubbly girl was standing quite unfocused on the conversation she was a part of. As she turned her back to the rest of the party and her body only allowed shallow breaths Ashton was fast to leave the conversation he himself was engaged in. Crossing the distance with big steps he wrapped his arms around you from behind, relief filled your body as you turned in his grasp. Burring you face in his neck you allowed the sobs to escape your body, the loud music drowned the sounds at the moment was only shared between you and Ashton. Ashton stood silently just rubbing your back in an attempt to calm you down, when you finally felt yourself calming down you took a step back "Can we please go home?" your voice was small and almost pathetic but Ashton understood the panic in your voice "'course darling" his large thumb dried your tears away before he pulled you into his side.

As soon as you arrived at home you hurried inside desperate to cover your flat chest. Ashton knew you, and he respected that you weren't  as communicative a person as he himself was. However, he was a bit frustrated when hours had rolled by and you stilled hadn't offered an explanation for the sudden breakdown. "Baby" his voice rang through the house, and though you had been hiding in the sunroom you knew you had to offer him something "yeah I'm in here Ash" you voice were tired as you prepared yourself for the confrontation. His large frame entered the room and as if he was dealing with a wild beast he slowly approached you before he spoke calmly "Are you ready to tell me what that was all about?" he nudged your knee with his own as he took a seat next to you. Playing with the pages of your book you looked up at him "not really" it was clearly written across his face that he wasn't satisfied with you answer. Before he had a change to say anything you spoke again "I know I owe you an explanation, but I can't give you one right now, I'm just not ready. Please don't push me with this one." You were never really one to set boundaries so while Ashton was incredible proud of you he was also frustrated. Tucking lightly at his hair, he slowly turned to look at you a gentle smile spread across his lips before he leaned in to place a soft kiss on your forehead. He stood up and left you alone again.

Hours passed, those turned into days and still you and Ashton wasn't really talking, neither of you were mad at the other but you both got lost in your heads. Ashton went around thinking about you falling apart in his arms before you sheltered yourself from him, he felt like a terrible partner who had missed the cues. You, on the other hand, went around with a crippling self-esteem, you wanted to open up to him but you couldn't. It would just bring more attention to the fact that you were less of a woman, that he deserved someone who had a larger breast area. Along those days the temperature had risen and you had struggled with finding clothes to wear, everything showcased you flat chest. Loos closing were your only friend.

"Honey, I'm home" his voice brought you from your thoughts, wearing his loos sweater you walked to the center of the house where he just had announced his return. "Hi ashy" he smiled as his nickname left your lips, it felt like an eternity ago since you last greeted him like this. His arms open up for you to snuggle against him and you happily agreed. His lips found yours and for the first time in days you felt as if you might had a change to make it through this. "Whats going on in that pretty head of yours?" his question was intrusive and you took a small step away not ready to open up yet. "Y/n, baby please" he was desperate, knowing you brought this pain on to him brought tears to your eyes "No no, don't cry. I promise what ever it is we will figure it out. Together, you remember?" his arms were still around you as he played with the hem of your baggy shirt "Why are you wearing this baggy clothes lately love?" his voice was more careful this time but you still winched as he rubbed salt in your open wound. Getting the memo he grabbed your hand before dragging you behind him "what are you doing?" he didn't answer you as he continued to move towards your bedroom. He turned towards the big mirror in the corner of the room, without hurting you he sternly brought you in front of him so that you were facing the mirror. You avoided looking at yourself as you made eye contact with Ashton. "Look at yourself darling" his voice was soft yet decisive. You took a quick glance before meeting his eyes again. He gripped the hem of your sweater and brought the fabric over your head. Quickly you clasped your hands across your chest, protecting your nude form from both his and your stare. His large hands rubbed your arms as he gently worked your arms down to your side again "Look at how beautiful you are baby" his chest was warm against you back, offering a small comfort as you began to fall apart in front of him. "You can't say that. Im more flat that a skinny teenage boy"you spitted at him, your words made him furrow his brows as he let out a sigh "Thats not true baby, you are the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes upon" his ran his large hands from you shoulder across your collarbone "You are so dainty" he smiled as his hands continued exploring your skin, "Your breast sits as two perfect cherries, so perfect" his hand came down to massage your breasts. "I love how firm your boobs feels in my hands" he gave them a squeeze, a smile still tucking at his lips and it was beginning to rub off on you "I love how you look so damn elegant in anything you wear" "I love how you can ditch the bra, so I can look at your nipples all day" As the words left his mouth he tugged at your nipples, your head rolled back onto his shoulder as a soft moan left your lips.

Ashton kept your firmly against his chest as he told you how amazing your smaller boobs were to him. You felt him hardening against your back and you felt yourself grow wetter with each words that left his lips "Darling, do me a favor and get rid of your pants and underwear?" he gave you a questioning look in the mirror, checking if you were still okay with the situation. You undressed yourself as he did the same. His hard cock was released from its confine space and you couldn't help but moan at the sight, his eyes meet yours as you made your way towards him. Just as you reached for his cock his stopped your hand "It is all about you today baby" you mind was clouded and before you noticed he had you back in front of his chest as you faced the mirror. "look at yourself while please you baby"  his voice was warm and husky against your spine, sending a shudder through your body. You fixed your eyes upon your own body, following his hands as they followed every curve of your body. He finally reached your slit and his fingers lazily played with your lips, you whined as he once again pulled a finger through your wet folders without caressing your clit. "Patiences baby" he chuckled into your ear. You began to grind onto Ashtons hand, as you grew more and more desperate for a relief "no, no, no baby, you gotta wait" the mischievousness was obvious in his voice as he enjoyed teasing you while being able to watch your whole body in the mirror. After teasing you for multiple minutes Ashton decided that he had had enough of teasing you "pleas baby" you wimped and just like that he burrowed one of his long fingers inside of you "fuck Ash" your moan was loud but your whine was even louder when he stopped moving his finger "Keep your eyes open baby, I want you to watch yourself or else I'm gonna stop" you struggled to keep your eyes open but you wanted him to continue. He added another finger as he pumped viciously inside of you, his lips worked on your neck and in-between kisses he whispered sweet nothings about how hot he found you. "Please Ashy, I want your cock" that was enough for Ashton to rip his fingers from you slit, he spread your juices on his cock as he pumped it a few times. Position himself behind you he pushed into you, the air was filled with both of your moans and skin slapping against each other. "such as good girl, taking my cock while looking so beautiful"  he words made you clench around him and moan out loud, without you noticing you had been playing with your left boob for a long period of time. Ashton felt proud as he saw you enjoying your body "Fuck y/n, you looks to good playing with you tits as I'm fucking you in front of a mirror" you gasped as he snapped his hips into yours "I I'm gonna cum fuuck. " He helped you chasing you high by brining a thump to your ball of nerves and just like that you felt firework blossom at the pit of your stomach, he kept you against his chest at his chased his own high. "Fuck y/n" he moaned into your ear as he came into you. Ashton kept your close for a moment as you both came down, he slowly dragged out and pulled you into the bathroom with him. He turned on the shower and turned to you, his large hand caught your cheek and he caressed while looking into your eyes "I love you so muck baby, you are really so so beautiful " you smiled at him "I love you baby, thank you" a sweet kiss was shared between the two of you. The shower was filled with sweet touched and a comfortable silence.

The next night as you laid in bed Ashton looked at you for a second "what?" you laughed at him as he moved to hold you closer "I was just thinking... I love you, and I think your body is amazing. I would never want you to change, I prefer you just the way you are. But if the size of you chest is such a big problem for you, you could change it? please don't hear this as me wanting you to change love" You smiled knowingly at him "Its ok ash. I thought about it but you made me realize that I should embrace myself as I am" He smiled bigly at you "Is that so love?" He moved to hoover over you "You know, words are just words till you bring the to life" you laughed at him "one direction really?" he laughed back at you before attacking your side with his long fingers, tickling you until you were gasping for air. The room was filled with loud laughed from the both of you, Ashton kissed your lips before drawing back slightly "and another time love, I will always be here to lift you up, so please involve me?" You nodded be pulling him back in, feeling grateful for the loving goofball who was trapping your body against the mattress.

[ravens-words]

Shelter

Writter for @thebuckleysiblingsweek Day Four: “Wake up, please don’t leave me alone.” + angst

When Maddie opened her eyes, it was to pitch black darkness all around her.

She coughed, and nearly lost her breath at the excruciating pain it caused. She tried to keep her breaths shallow, knowing that she most likely had at least a couple of bruised ribs. She rubbed her belly frantically, willing her daughter to move, to kick, but she was still. Maddie let out a sob and leaned forward, though the movement hurt.

When the pain was down to a manageable level, and the fear for her daughter wasn't so crippling that she couldn't even think, the memories came back to her. The dog that had appeared out of nowhere, her inability to keep control of the car, Buck. Her head snapped to the side, and tears immediately sprang to her eyes as she saw her brother, crumbled against the window.

Maddie reached for him, her heart beating a mile a minute as she checked his pulse with shaking fingers. She sobbed when she found it immediately, strong and undeniable proof that she hadn't lost her brother. She shook his shoulder, tried with all her might to wake him, but he was still no matter what she did. Maddie called out his name, louder and louder until she was screaming it, but it was no use.

"Oh, God," she clutched his jacket and rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Buck. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault," she sobbed, breath hitching from the pain, the fear and the frustration she was feeling.

She and Buck had taken half a day to just hang out together. With her due date approaching at an alarmingly fast pace, and her anxiety about the birth tripling, Buck had claimed that he needed some siblings time. She'd known it was an excuse, that he was just trying to get her out of her head, and even though she'd been onto him, it had worked. He'd taken her shopping, not just for baby clothes, but for clothes for both of them, too. Then he'd taken her to lunch at her favorite place, and ice cream after that.

Going to the movies hadn't been his idea, it had been hers, because she didn't really want to go back to an empty apartment where she was alone with her thoughts.

She wished she hadn't suggested it, wished they'd just gone back to her place or his and watched a movie there.

Maddie let out a sob and with shaking fingers, tapped his face. He let out a groan, but his eyes remained stubbornly closed. "Wake up, please don’t leave me alone," she sobbed as she shook him. "You can't leave me; you can't leave us, baby brother. Please."

Maddie allowed herself just a few seconds to breakdown, but then closed her eyes and forced a deep breath in, even though it hurt, then she dried her eyes and looked for her phone. She knew there would be no reception here, but she wanted to at least try.

Maddie opened the door and gingerly stepped out. The rain had stopped, thankfully, but all around her in the field was wet mud that made it hard to walk around. She looked around, and found that they were in a ditch. It was shallow, but it was still a ditch, and this reduced their chances of someone seeing their toppled car. Her heart sank, but she was determined, so she set out to finding a way out. She needed to get to somewhere with cell reception, and fast.

She looked back at her car, hoping against hope she would be able to see her brother moving, but was disappointed when he was exactly as she'd left him.

Climbing up what was basically a five feet mud slide while pregnant turned out to be harder than she thought, but Maddie kept trying, because giving up now could mean losing her brother, and that was not an option, ever.

It took her a long time, but she finally manged to heft herself up and onto the street. She lay there for a second, to catch her breath and rest, then was up and walking in the middle of the street. She walked down the empty road for about ten minutes before there was a signal, and she wasted no time in calling 911.

.

When Maddie was a few feet away from where their car veered off the road, she heard her name being called frantically.

"Maddie!" Buck was screaming, voice cracked and hoarse but still audible. Maddie sobbed and ran the remaining distance. "Buck! Buck, I'm here."

He whipped around and staggered towards her, falling twice. She held her hand out towards him when he reached her, and he held it tight then rested his head on their joined hands. "You're okay," he breathed out. "I thought something happened."

"We're both okay, Buck. I went to call for help, that's all." She tugged on his hand until he looked at her and she frowned as he swayed from side to side. "Hey, do you think you can get up here?"

He nodded and to her surprise didn't manage it in the first time. She frowned worriedly as he slipped and leaned forward to steady him as best as she could when he stood back up. He managed it the second time, and he lay down on the street in an attempt to catch his breath. "Okay, little brother, come on, let me take a look at you."

Buck groaned. "I'm fine, Mads. What about you and the baby? Are you both okay?"

She wrapped her arms around her belly and watched as he struggled to sit up.

"I don't know. She hasn't moved since I woke up in the car."

His expression was stricken, and as tears gathered in her eyes, he scooted closer and held onto her. "She's gonna be okay, Mads," he whispered, saying the words slowly and deliberately, obviously trying to hide the slur in his words as he he tightened his arms around her.

She pulled away, confused and worried, and held his face in her hands. Unfocused eyes met hers and she cursed. "Buck, can you tell me what's wrong?"

"Huh?"

"Oh, God. Okay," she said loudly, trying to rein in her panic. "Buck? Buck, hey, look at me." Dazed blue eyes met hers and she swallowed thickly. "We're gonna keep talking, okay?"

He pulled a face. "I can't- I don't-"

"Hey, it's okay, baby brother. It's okay. Listen, you have to stay awake, Buck. Please."

"'M awake," he slurred, eyes contradicting his words by delicately closing.

"Buck?" She tapped his face. "Hey," she pinched him, hard.

His eyes snapped open. "Ow, mean," he said as he rubbed his arm.

She let out a relieved laugh. "Stay awake and I won't do it again."

He squinted at her, and if it had been under any other circumstances, she might have thought it was adorable. "It'll bruise," he informed her, grouchy.

"Talk to me, Buck," she pleaded with him.

"'Bout wha'?"

"Anything you want. Just please keep talking.

He did. There were times when he drifted off mid sentence, or he forgot his line of thinking, but he did stay awake.

The sound of sirens was the best thing she'd ever heard, and she sobbed as she tightened her arms around her brother. "Help's here, Buck," she informed him, so relieved she was almost giddy with it.

"Hmm, that's good. Can I pass out now?" He muttered.

Maddie had to laugh at that. "Not just yet, Buck."

"Maddie?!" Her head snapped up at the shout. That was unmistakably her boyfriend's voice.

"Buck!"

Maddie soon found her arms empty of Buck and she was instead pulled to her feet and into Chimney's arms. "Howie," she cried, burying her face in his shoulder. One hand ran through her short hair, the touch soothing.

"Are you hurt?" She shook her head. He pulled away from her and put both hands at her upper arms. "Maddie? Are you sure you're not hurt?" He put a hand on her belly. "And how's Mango?"

Her face crumbled, but she couldn't help but laugh a little at the nickname. "She's-" she gasped, putting a hand to her belly, cutting herself off mid sentence when there was a flutter, and then a kick. "Howie, she's moving!" She threw her arms around him. "She wouldn't move ever since the accident happened. I really thought something was wrong." Then she laughed through her tears a d shook her head. "Not even born yet and she's already a daddy's girl."

Chimney chuckled and pulled her into a side hug. With her head pillowed on his chest, she looked to where Buck was being treated by Hen. Eddie and Bobby both flanked him, looking worried and she desperately wanted to go to him. Chimney seemed to.read her mind, because he started to lead her in their direction. When she got closer, she could see that Eddie had a hand on the back of her brother's head, and their heads were bent together. The look on Eddie's face was soft and fond, and she rolled her eyes inwardly at the boys' inability to see what was right in front of them.

"Maddie, hey!" Hen, who had just finished up with Buck, smiled at her. "You doing alright?"

She nodded. "I'm fine. How's Buck?"

Hen huffed fondly. "He's got a serious concussion, but other than that, he's doing okay. Worried about you, though."

Maddie let out a breath of relief and approached Buck, holding out a hand. He immediately latched onto it and pulled her close. She ran a hand through his hair and smiled at him when he looked up at her with a dopey smile. "You doing okay?"

He nodded. "You?"

"I am now that I know you're safe. You really scared me, Buck."

"Sorry, Mads," he said dutifully. He was quiet for a few seconds, then, "just so you know, I'm never going to the movies with you ever again."

[i8jisoo]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒  ⇉  not true

felix x idol!reader | imagine

↬ genre; pure angst

↬ warnings; talk of alcohol, suicide, and depression

↬ notes; horribly written but i’ll keep it sorry in advance that i didn’t put any warnings at first i’m just skimming these

felix watched before his eyes, your last performance. he was your friend, maybe even more than that he hoped you knew that, he watched you sing. it was all you ever knew, what you loved to do. felix understood that some idols struggled through these patches, some idols gradually developed anxiety or depression due to the pressure put on them. god, you slipped through the cracks. everybody was thinking the same thing, “what did we do to miss this? how could we have missed this?”

felix woke up in the morning, he was doing well. he had gotten back a little bit late from the studio the night before, his legs a little sore and a little tired but other than that he was doing great. felix had actually been learning one of your choreography as he was assigned for a solo stage soon. you were the one to teach it to him, you had taught him step by step and it was gorgeous. the choreography was perfect and suited his style perfectly as it did you.

you were a bubbly person, sure sometimes you stared off blankly and didn’t always hear others when talking, but nobody paid much attention to those little details. you were an idol, you were bound to get bored of talking or listening, bored of practicing so it didn’t mean much. god, he wished he could have gone back to weekly idol with you and talked to you more thoroughly after. he wished he could have asked you how you were feeling or if you wanted to go out sometime.

your mind was poisoned, your heart was tainted, and your eyes were so full but empty. the first sign that something was wrong was when you started becoming a bit more absent as the anxiety started, it was almost crippling. you managed to head out to fan signings and performances still, making what mattered the most to you, your fans, happy.

your last album, it was so heartbreaking. it was vile to even hear the first note of the song, it was hard. your album soon made sense when news had broke. your performance made sense, your eyes were helpless. your eyes, they were begging and nobody noticed. your hands slightly trembled against the microphone and its’ stand, going to wipe against the bottom of your dress that fit you perfectly. you looked perfect, or so they thought.

that was when he was called, jeongin was on the phone, calling about being outside of his door. he sounded nervous, he sounded afraid. the door was knocked on, jeongin there with his cellphone and immediately wrapped his arms around felix. felix was confused but felt his heart warm at the action, his arms were snug around him and jeongin coddled him like a baby. “i can’t believe she’s gone, lix.” jeongin murmured, felix pulling apart from him. his brows were furrowed and he looked the younger one in the eyes, “what? who?” he asked, starting to grow anxious.

“y/n, she just— they said they found her in her house. lix, i don’t understand. sh-she was fine? she wasn’t sick and she wasn’t sad, how could she just— just leave us? her friends?” jeongin asked, not even seeing felix sitting on the ground. some part of felix died when he heard those words, a part of him shriveled up and died. a part of him was taken.

“no, that’s— that’s not true. she was fine, she was happy. she was okay jeongin. no, she’s alive okay? no. she’s fine. that’s not true! she’s okay, okay? she’s happy and alive.” felix insisted, his voice frail and letting tears fall freely while he stuttered on.

felix was offered support from his band members who knew he needed it, practically mothering him. they brought him food, sometimes cooked for him, helped him with laundry and washing dishes, sometimes— just sometimes— they had to help him find the will to wake up in the morning. when they did, he was silent. he couldn’t eat or drink, all he could do was concentrate on getting through the day.

he was last spotted at the funeral, spending time afterwards and promising you that he would go out every few weeks to come eat with you or write lyrics with you. felix was a mess, it wasn’t the kind of mess that some could fix with alcohol or drugs, no amount of therapy, no band-aids or creams could heal. this was something that they weren’t sure would ever heal. the way he thought he was healing was by continuing doing things with you included, he felt like you were there. he swore he could smell your rose perfume, he swore that he could hear your voice.

felix never came to terms with your death, he was convinced you were still there. he found himself often calling you and then getting upset when you didn’t pick up, even after your phone was disabled and sent him to the invalid automated message. of course he would apologize to you though for getting upset, he wanted you two to be happy together.

you had died awhile before your death occurred, you had died. it sent chills down your spine when you realized you were ready, when you could stare at someone and not care if you didn’t get to look at that. unfortunately felix lee was the thing that held you back from death. his big smile, his perfect hair, and his jokes. he never failed to make you feel a bit alive, though when you became numb. when you were at wits end, when you just couldn’t continue. you wanted to put it in to words, into song. you loved music, you loved singing. your fans meant the world to you, each album and single were from your heart. your last album was a drastic change, it was dark, it was twisted, you loved it. it truly killed you to perform it in person, you meant to finish every promotional performance, but you couldn’t. every scream, every tear, every person you looked at, you couldn’t handle it.

a video had been released, capturing your final moments. you sat in the bathtub, unknowingly intoxicated and your hair was wet, the video most likely cropped to keep everybody from seeing your naked body since it seemed to felix that the view traveled farther. the bathtub was on, your camera on. “today is, july eighteenth. i got home right now, it’s four in the morning. made a new song.” the video went on with incoherent mumbling, your hands fumbling with the camera. the singing started, it was delicate. the water softly running behind it, nothing else but the sound of running water. you hummed during part of the song before continuing onto the final part, your voice nearly inaudible, down to a whisper. the video played, only a few more seconds left on the video before it slowly faded to black. there it was, the same photo they had used for your funeral. your name and age, beloved idol. there was the silence, there was the ugly truth. the truth that sometimes the things that you love the most destroy you, things you love can kill you, things you love can take you over. you told your truth, start to finish. you just had to make felix lee, the one who was heartbroken, the one who was shattered, you had to make him believe the truth. he’d believe it soon, he’d believe you were better off. he’d know it’s true.

the words rang forever it seemed like, it’s not true, it’s not true. it’s not true if you say it isn’t. but eventually, it’s not true until it is.

©️ maysdiors 2020 :: all rights reserved. do not repost my work on tumblr or other platforms.

[oureuphoria]

Worst of You - JJK 05

You meet him under horrible circumstances but that doesn’t stop you from developing a very abnormal and completely unsolicited crush on your local hot police officer™. Too bad you have a bitch of a best friend, anxiety and an inability to learn from your mistakes which cripples your chances to be with the man of your literal dreams. Oh, and he has a lifetime’s worth of emotional baggage at 23.

Or

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” “Cool, I’ll let everyone know that you’re moving in then.”

Genre: fluff, angst, comedy

Pairing: officer!jungkook X  collegestudent!reader

Word count: 2,521

Note: If you don’t imagine that vine of the kid taking a sip of his mother alcohol when Y/N takes a sip of the wine then I will be very disappointed. 

| 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 |

It was 3:15 and Jungkook was nowhere to be seen. You decided to play a game to distract yourself but you (ironically) lost track of time prompting you to completely miss Jungkook’s arrival which prompted him to watch you curse at geometry dash for a good 7 minutes. He cleared his throat to get your attention which startled you, enough so to have you fumble your phone to the ground with a loud bang that had a couple of people looking your way.

“So, where’s my congratulations cake?” You asked while simultaneously checking your phone for blemishes. Fortunately, the screen wasn’t cracked, unlike your cool moments ago. “The best I can do is a muffin, take it or leave it.” You giggled in response but the sound mellowed down into a soft silence. It wasn’t awkward at first but you quickly got fidgety under his stare.

“So I needed at least 90% to maintain my 4.0 GPA but I got 89.9% and my professor refuses to round it. Can you arrest him for that?” The question may have sounded playful but you were in no way kidding. One more slip up and you could kiss your scholarship goodbye. “No. Y/N, 89% is great, don’t stress.” You nodded with a forced smile that Jungkook hadn’t noticed (or if he did, he didn’t comment on it) and for that you were grateful.

“Look, I know this is kind of sudden but I need a favour?” You hummed in reply, gesturing for him to continue. “Do you think you could baby sit my kids.” You dropped your phone again in shock and Jungkook facepalmed in shame. “My brother’s kids! Not mine, I don’t have kids.” He reached for your phone while you did and your hands touched for what could be described as a split second. You - being the melodramatic pre-teen that you are - had to suppress the urge to squeal at the very minor touch.

“How old are they?” You loved kids (aged 3-9) but babies scared you and you wanted absolutely nothing to do with them. “My niece is 7 and my nephew is 4.” “I can babysit them but are you sure your brother won’t mind?” Jungkook winced at the mention of his brother. He was quiet for a moment before he started shaking his head disapprovingly. “We just won’t tell him.” His fear was almost comical and you would’ve laughed if you weren’t afraid the sound would break him.

“They’ll be in good hands. Trust me.” And he did, he just hoped his older brother would too. “So, when am I babysitting them?” “This Friday, if that’s okay? They’re staying with me for the weekend but I have a work dinner scheduled that night so if you could occupy them from around 6-10 that’d be great.” You gave him a thumbs up in approval, mouth full of strawberry cheesecake. “Thank’s Y/N. I owe you.”  

You didn’t mean to leave your roommate in the dark about the two children that would be occupying your dorm for a few hours but the entire ordeal slipped your mind. In fact, when Jungkook showed up on Friday, you had been completely unprepared. “Oh, hello…” You waved at the kids who moved to hide behind their uncles legs - an act you remember doing before you were too big to hide behind people. Once your eyes had trailed down though, your focus shifted to Jungkook’s gorgeous thighs and your thoughts took a sharp 180. He was clad in black trousers and a slightly unbuttoned dress shirt and to say you weren’t practically drooling over him would be a lie.

“Okay, Luna take care of your brother. Alan, don’t break anything.” He lectured them cutely and you wondered how he ever managed to yell at hardened criminals with that soft face but you’d seen him mad and he definitely wasn’t a force to be reckoned with. The children nodded dutifully and you couldn’t help but smile. They were so small and cute and you were quickly finding yourself becoming quite excited to hang out with them.

“They both haven’t had dinner yet but you can feed them anything, Luna is really well behaved but she can be a bit sassy. Alan has an issue with grabbing random things but if he gets too out of hand just give him his iPad in his bag, he’ll know what to do. Okay, thank you so much. I have to go, bye!” Jungkook spoke so fast that you almost questioned if he spoke at all. You turned to the kids with a sheepish smile and a simple question to break the tension. “So, who want’s to play Just Dance?”

After a night of G-rated video games, McDonald’s and a very self-indulgent amount of baby Yoda, both kids were finally asleep on your couch and Alex had just gotten home. “Hey, who are the kids?” She quietly set her keys down before walking to the kitchen to get a glass of water, her eyes trained on the mini people draped over your couch. “They’re kids I’m babysitting; for a friend.” She nodded absentmindedly and you assumed from her quiet demeanour that something was off. You decided to ignore it. “So, um, we have a dorm inspection in a month. You should probably clean your room.” She waved you off with a nod and a flick of the wrist while she made her way to her room. You sighed and looked at the sleeping kids. “She’s not going to clean her room is she?” You whispered to particularly no one.

It was around 11pm when Jungkook eventually showed up. He scooped both of the sleeping kids into his arms and bid you farewell without a second to spare. The apartment suddenly felt empty and a nagging headache began to become apparent.

You let yourself fall back onto the couch with a huff, this was the life you were destined for. You were everyone’s second choice. The back-up plan, the plan B. You were a constant in a world that was continuously changing and yet you weren’t even a good one. You couldn’t dwell over your uselessness for long though. You had a paper to write and feelings for Jungkook that you needed to get over.

Unfortunately for you, Alex was upset and when Alex is upset she does some pretty reckless things. Like, calling her ex-boyfriend, for example who is now not so quietly comforting her in the only way he knew how. The Jimin way that always - without fail - keeps you awake for far longer than you anticipated.

You walked into your morning class the following day with a giant cup of coffee and a pair of sunglasses to hide the pain that glowed in your baggy eyes. You couldn’t keep the glasses on during the class though and just as you took them off, Jimin rushed to make a snarky comment.

“You look like death today.” “I blame your high pitched moaning, daddy.” Jimin might’ve been aroused by your use of his (not-so) secret kink but you looked like you wanted him dead and the venom dripping from your voice proved it. “At least I’m getting laid.” You rolled your eyes and decided to not press further. The two of you could argue till the end of time and in that moment you just needed to focus until the end of the class.

After 96 dreadful minutes of your human anatomy teacher’s droning, you managed to make it out of the class alive but not without catching the attention of William who was now chasing you down no matter how hard you avoided his gaze. “Hey, Y/N.” You smiled forcefully and hoped that your exhausted exterior didn’t come off as bitchy - but that was a stretch. “The officer told me that the attacker had no motive for doing what they did, so don’t worry, they’re not out for you or anything.” William smiled, laughing a little at the joke you seriously didn’t mean to crack. Did you even make a joke? You needed sleep, and fast.

The rest of the day went pretty much the same. You continued plaguing your college campus like a cast member of the walking dead with barely any purpose and motivation. Because the world hated you, you didn’t get home until 6pm and your exhaustion pretty much decided you’d be skipping lunch and dinner for whatever semblance of sleep you could get.

You were in the midst of brushing your teeth through the dull ache of your tiredness (because dental hygiene is important, you’re not scared of the dentist), when there was a knock on your door. You assumed it was Alex who had a history for forgetting her keys but when you opened the door, clad in iron man themed pyjamas, you were met with Jungkook who was visibly, not Alex.

You might’ve asked something like why he was here or how he got through the building door but your toothbrush was still in your mouth and the situation was getting awkward. “Get dressed, I’m taking you to dinner.” You gave him a weird look as you held your hand out to ask him to wait. You rushed to the bathroom to finish brushing your teeth before returning to the door which Jungkook was leaning on to tell him, “but I brushed my teeth.”

Jungkook scoffed at your excuse with both astonishment and annoyance. “It’s 6pm.” He retorted while his eyes skimmed your very small dorm to sit on your even smaller chair. “I wasn’t planning on eating!” He waved you off before taking out his phone. “Go get dressed so I can repay you for the babysitting.” You gave him a small glare, although you were hungry, you were more tired and all you wanted to do was sleep. “Couldn’t you have just given me $20 like any other person?” Jungkook doesn’t move his stare off his phone while he replies. “Where’s the fun in that? Now go get changed.”

You stuck your tongue out at him (even though you knew he couldn’t see it) before stomping off to your room to change into something more appropriate. Judging by Jungkook’s choice of fancy attire, this was probably going to be some fancy restaurant where you couldn’t pronounce anything and everything cost more than your rent so you decided to wear a light pink dress. You didn’t spend that long getting ready, in fact 90% of the time you were trying to fit all of your necessities into a tiny (impractical) purse because it was the fanciest thing you owned.

“You seriously wore a dress with sneakers?” Sure, expecting a compliment or a simple wow, Y/N may have been a little delusional but you certainly were not expecting him to insult your precious pink Fila disruptors. You didn’t reply as you trudged behind him with a scowl on your face.

“Where are we going, anyway?” You asked with a voice laced with annoyance as you stepped into his terrifyingly fancy car. You didn’t even want to know how much that thing costs to insure. He didn’t answer your question which you found pretty rude but the glare on his face stifled any complaint you were going to make. You watched Jungkook drive which would’ve been a lot more innocent if he wasn’t smirking every 3 minutes and annoying you even more.

The entire drive was composed of awkward silence and unanswered questions before he eventually he pulled into  bright driveway before getting out handing his keys to the man who ran the valet service.

Wait, valet service?

“This looks expensive, honestly I would’ve been fine with the $20.” You whispered to Jungkook before you walked inside but all he did was chuckle. “Y/N, it’s fine, it’s just a restaurant.” That, was a blatant lie. It was one of the most renowned Italian restaurants in New York and it was incredibly hard to get into but of course you didn’t know that so you were up for a pleasant surprise once you opened the menu.

“Oh shit, this is no-price-on-the-menu fancy.” You whispered to no one in particular but Jungkook picked up on the incoherent sound. “What?” “Nothing!” You quickly squeaked out. You were not going to let a simple menu intimidate you. Unfortunately, the entire thing was in Italian and you failed all the language classes that you took in high school.

“Order whatever you want, yeah?” Jungkook was hoping you weren’t intimidated by the prices but unbeknownst to him, that was the last of your concerns. You nodded slowly; too focused on trying to comprehend what the menu said. “You know what, I’ll just get whatever you get.” Jungkook looked at you with masked concern that you wouldn’t have been able to notice if not for his revealing eyes.  “Why? Do you not like Italian?” “No, it’s not that. I just don’t know what’s good here so, I trust you.” You lied straight through your teeth with a cunning smile that even had you fooled. Jungkook nodded and didn’t say much more. “Well, I usually get the steak.” You could feel the panic settling in. You hated steak - with a passion.

“I lied, I don’t know how to read this menu at all.” You blurted out before he could call the waiter and braced yourself for his degrading laugh. He did laugh but you were thankful for his guidance after. He explained pretty much the entire menu to you before you decided on getting some kind of pasta.

After Jungkook had ordered, (you’d rather stay out ordering food unless it’s completely necessary) another waiter followed quickly after and asked if you wanted any wine. Jungkook nodded but the waiter assumed it was for the both of you so he poured you a glass as well. You watched Jungkook’s eyes widen in fear when he noticed but before he could say anything the waiter was on his way. You looked at the glass with obvious fascination that Jungkook was positive on shutting down.

“Y/N if you drink that I will literally arrest you right here." “Yikes, okay, I’m sorry.” Your apology was sarcastic but he relaxed nonetheless; a mistake, on his part, because you were immediately picking up the glass to take a sip anyway. “Y/N!” You didn’t hear Jungkook berating you over the deafening scream of your tongue as the disgusting liquid went down your throat. “That was horrible, how can you drink that?” You spoke through your coughing fit while Jungkook carefully removed the glass from your grasp, calling a waiter over to take it away and bring back a coke instead. “You’re an idiot and now a convicted felon.”

You gave him a sheepish smile in return. “I was curious…” He shook his head in disapproval but didn’t press further; he found it hard to stay angry at you. You spent the rest of the night trying to make him laugh with your really (subjectively) funny dad jokes. He didn’t laugh but you blamed it on his dead sense of humour which Jungkook thought was a reasonable excuse.

“Y/N.” You cocked your head up to look at him with a frustrated expression. Who knew pasta was so hard to eat? “What?” You tried to say though it came out muffled as you tried to eat. “It’s sad watching you eat.” “It’s not my fault the pasta is so slippery!” He grabbed the fork out of your hand and effortlessly spun the pasta around your fork. You scoffed in astonishment but Jungkook decided to ignore your frustration. “Open.” You felt like a toddler, Jungkook (a grown man) was feeding you (an allegedly grown woman) pasta because you couldn’t figure out how the mechanism worked.

After you finished eating, the room was engulfed with an awkward silence. The distant voices and the clatter of cutlery filled the void although it wasn’t nearly enough. “So, you up for dessert?” You shook your head quickly, you were so exhausted you could’ve sleep right on the uncomfortable chair. “I’m too full.” Jungkook nodded and asked a waiter for the bill. You curiously tried to take a peek at the total but Jungkook snatched the bill towards him before you had the chance. “Think of it as payment for taking care of my niece and nephew.” It seemed like a little too much for just babysitting but you knew there was no point in arguing with him.

The entire car ride was quiet. You were too busy trying to conjure up the courage to ask Jungkook out (properly) and Jungkook was too busy trying not to crash the car. The moment his car was in front of your building, you blurted out the question before you could stop yourself. “Jungkook, can I ask you a question?” He was a taken aback by the abrupt question but he nodded nonetheless.

“I um… I like you, a lot and I just don’t want to get my hopes up and expect anything from you because that’s unfair and of course I don’t expect anything now I just…” You trailed off once you realised you had been rambling but  Jungkook didn’t seem to notice. His expression seemed entirely indifferent and you wondered if you had even confessed at all.

The silence was getting incredibly uncomfortable so you tried to diffuse the situation you had unwillingly created. “It’s fine if you don’t! It’s just a crush. I’ll get over it eventually so really-” Halfway through your rambling, Jungkook crashed his lips onto yours and you froze. Now, you’ve been kissed before, but never like this and the lack of warning shocked you enough to have you accidentally bite the poor man’s lip. “Ow. What the fuck Y/N?” You began apologising profusely while he held his lip and though the mood was definitely ruined, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m sorry! Are you okay?" “I’m fine. Goodnight Y/N.” You were about to leave the car before you quickly turned around and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then you hurriedly screamed ‘thank you’ and sprinted into your dorm building. Jungkook drove away with his heart heavy and his mind racing. He may have just ruined his entire plan.You on the other hand just realised you never got an answer.

[apollos-celticswan]

June is coming up, and with it Pride Month. I have an interesting relationship with Pride Month and with parades and being “out”. For me, while I was out as queer since thirteen, I always felt like I didn’t fit. I didn’t know how to slide into the labels of the queer community. It took me a very long time to understand why.

I wanted to share with you the journey of a Trans person, who didn’t understand what being Transgender meant until they were twenty-three. I want to share with you my story, because its taken me a long time to get here.

When I was a teen, there were only three labels acknowledge in the queer vocabulary. Growing up in the 2000’s was a different sort of time for queer kids. You were gay, lesbian, or bisexual. I didn’t really know about being Transgender. I knew sometimes men dressed as women and that “wasn’t acceptable”. Gender diversity didn’t exist. There was no spectrum, just broken kids and kids bold enough to identify as cis-queer.

I was seven when I realized I liked girls. I was eight when I realized I didn’t really “fit” in what other “girls” should or wanted to be doing. I spent a lot early childhood going through the motions of what other people wanted from me. I mimicked what “girls were supposed to be like”. It was short lived because middle school essentially was my slingshot into coming out to myself as “gay”. I stopped being ashamed of liking girls and embraced it.

But…when people asked if I was a lesbian, I didn’t really know what to say. At thirteen, I didn’t think of myself as a girl who liked girls. I couldn’t figure that out. So I ignored it.

Queue anxiety disorder which kicked in when I was about thirteen at full force. OCD tendencies. A desperate need for control. Paranoia. Self-hatred. Body hatred. I wouldn’t eat because I could control that. I hated my hair. I grew it long to “feel pretty”. I wore make-up to “feel pretty”. 2008 was the most turbulent year for this downward spiral.

Inside I felt like I was dying, and I literally didn’t understand why.

I felt like I was always wearing a costume.

And then I discovered cosplay. Specifically, cosplaying boys. The world fucking EXPLODED. I still didn’t understand why it felt so good every time I put on the button-down and vest. Why seeing my flat chest bound down brought me such unexplainable joy, but I loved it. I loved seeing myself in the mirror strong and confident and yes. I was finally pretty. I was pretty and I was HAPPY.

But only in cosplay.

Dating relationships got complicated. I dated a LOT, and hurt a lot of people because I didn’t understand what sort of relationship I was supposed to have. I wasn’t a girl in a lesbian relationship. I didn’t know how to vocalize that. It was just anxious, awkward emotions.

I started hurting myself. As punishment for hurting people around me. As punishment for being different.

The thought crossed my mind. “What if I am transgender” when I was fifteen. The fear silenced me in petrified terror, not to be touched for years.

Senior year, I don’t really know what happened, but even though I wouldn’t have the words for “transition” yet, this is when I truly started. I chopped my hair off, and stopped living as a boy in costumes. I changed my wardrobe, switching to all masculine clothes.

I didn’t know I was transgender. But I knew that this felt RIGHT. I bound every day with sports bras, not knowing the word “bind” outside of cosplay. I just knew flat felt right. So I did it.

When I got to college, I spent a lot of time working on my mental illness and trauma. It wouldn’t be until 2013 that I would realize that my gender identity was not only something I needed to understand, but that if I didn’t, I would likely loose the love of my life, who had no idea what to do with my turbulent moods, dangerous self-hatred, and toxic internalized fears. It was a constant battle to understand what was going on in my head. Why didn’t I want to be touched? Why didn’t I want to be seen naked? Why was I only comfortable being intimate when I was dressed in cosplay as a male character?

I was twenty-three the first time I was diagnosed with gender dysphoria. I spiraled in rejection. I was afraid. I was afraid my parents would hate me. I was afraid of losing my mom. I was afraid of losing my sisters. I was so scared of everything I cut myself off from everyone and everything, living in brutal denial. I didn’t tell anyone but my now Wife.

I bounced in and out of hyper femininity to prove to myself I was “normal”. Forcing myself to fit into stereotypes to find belonging and not disappoint the people around me.

I was diagnosed again at twenty-four…and twenty-five…and twenty-six.

Sometimes I go back and I look at my pictures from over the years, and I wish I could go back then and give him a hug. I can see my transition journey, even though I wouldn’t come out until twenty-six. I can see the little differences. The confidence in my smile in the photos where I am presenting masculine are such a contrast to the shy, awkward smiles and discomfort of my feminine presenting photos. I see the strength and change in my pictures post coming out as Transgender. Even in my genderfluid moments and love of make-up, the change is massive, and powerful.

I wanted to share my journey in a summary because its important. You can be transgender and until you have the vocabulary it is so hard to vocalize to others why it is you are struggling. I can look at that boy in those photos now and say “no wonder you were confused!!”. I can look at those pained photos and go back to those moments and understand why I was so sad and why I hated myself so crippling much.

I am still afraid. I’m afraid of losing parents, of losing siblings and friends. I’m afraid of losing my rights and I’m afraid for my safety. I worry about our child being treated differently. I’m afraid of how our relationship is going to be different from other children and their cis-gender parents.

But that fear pales in comparison to the confidence, joy, and self-love I have found in come out. I KNOW I will be a good parent, because I am being my best self and living my truth. I know I will be strong because I have been through so much to come to the place I am.

So to all you little queer babies out there are various stages of coming out, you can do it.

Sometimes it’ll take a long time. Maybe almost two decades, but you’ll get there, and it’s the most beautiful view when you do. Loving yourself allows you to love others. Trusting yourself allows you to trust others. Live your truth, and its okay to be scared.

I am out. I am proud, and for the first time in my life I am celebrating pride out, proud and knowing exactly who I am.

Its an amazing feeling.

[loverofpiggies]

After having a bit of a breakdown, I'm struggling to pull myself out of it. Any tips? I dont want to lose my job but its affecting my performance because I have panic attacks at work and a part of me is so scared that I'm somehow faking it and am really just lazy or something

I recall, back when I worked at Hobby Lobby still, I had a panic attack so bad I thought it was a heart attack, and I was sure I was dying.Shortly after, I recall being in such a panicked state, that driving home from work one day, I was so overwhelmed with absolutely everything, I almost just. Drove as far north as I could, and mentally planned to live in hotels until I ran out of money in my savings account.

I was having some bad mental breakdowns during that time, wasn’t great to my friends and girlfriend, and closed myself off almost entirely. It was pure hell. So I have DEFINITELY been there.

First things first: You are definitely not lazy. Living with that kind of anxiety, it puts your brain and body into overdrive. Your brain is working so hard trying to curb all that, that I’m sure it’s exhausting. Hell, it did me.

I know this is advice that a lot of people are given. But first things first,

talking to a professional therapist literally saved my life.

(I’m bolding that, because I STRONGLY recommend a professional. I can only speak from personal experience, but I am no therapist!) You have to find a good one, and I highly suggest going every single week (It’s been 5 years, and I only miss when I have to) But here are a couple things I have personally learned.(A ton of text under the cut!)

1. Journal the feelings out.

Let yourself feel all those awful emotions- but ONLY in a safe environment. If you do not think you are ready to face it, that’s okay, it’s all baby steps. But when you try to shove down scary, or unfortunate things, they will always find a way out- and anxiety is a great outlet for pent up feelings.

The reason why I say to journal, is when you try to speak to yourself, or talk it out- your brain has a tendency to try and rationalize away your feelings. My therapist told me directly to JOURNAL, because speaking is another step that your brain can use against you- but writing down? Your thoughts can be dropped directly on to paper, with WAY less rationalizing your feelings away. I didn’t believe my therapist when I first started journaling, but boy howdy, it’s been a miracle.

2. It’s okay to not be okay.

This is one I still struggle with, but let me explain it in more detail. You worry you’re faking it, or you’re being lazy, but that definitely isn’t the case. It’s OKAY to not be alright. I used to be extremely hard on myself, too. I used to be like ‘Everything is going my way. Why can’t I be happy?’ ‘What is wrong with me?’ ‘I’ve made my dreams come true, why am I still so unhappy?’

I was being so hard on myself, I was intensifying it, and making it even worse. I started to curb those thoughts, by just being honest with myself. ‘I feel like crud today. It’s fine, I’m just going to let myself feel like crud.’ or ‘Okay okay, brain I get you, I’ll take a break’.

The funny thing is, the more you teach yourself it’s okay to not be okay, it helps give you more good days. The less hard you are on yourself about your anxiety, the less intense the anxiety gets. Accepting the bad parts of you and learning to love yourself with those parts, actually tends to lessen the bad things from happening. They still happen, but it’s WAY less painful, and usually lasts way less time, too.

3. Be brave.

Let me use a couple of examples for this one.

I used to be too terrified to leave my house. I was certain if I were to- say- take a walk down the street, I would be attacked, or murdered. Like, legit, daily fears. I don’t live in a dangerous area- but I treated it like a warzone.

Certain times- I’m not kidding you- I used to be too scared to leave my closet. I can’t go into detail about that, but. Yes, that was daily life for me for a while.

So? I was scared to take walks. So I made myself take walks. I started taking walks for five minutes every day. During those five minutes, I would absolutely be panicking. I’d be checking behind me. I’d think all sorts of terrifying thoughts. But. I made myself walk.

Then I bumped it up to ten minutes. Then twenty. And let me make it very clear- through out most of this, I was scared. Every step of the way. Terrified. But I knew, that if I did not face this fear, then it would cripple, and control me.

Because I forced myself to make those baby steps back in college, and become more and more open- it is the only way I could have possibly traveled to sell at conventions. Now? I fly around the country, and take public transport, and hell, today I’ve been hanging out at a ton of local parks just because it’s fun- and the only reason I got that far, was because I had a fear, and I faced it- no matter how much terror it gave me.

This is related to everything. In therapy, I HAD to face memories that I shoved away for years. It was hard. And it was scary, and I cried, and I felt all those things I had to feel-- but because I faced them, and with the help of my therapist, learned how to handle them- I’ve never felt so confident, or brave. Because I faced walking outside, or faced my deepest insecurities- it is the ONLY reason I am where I am.

Remember: I used to be terrified of leaving my home- and now I spend entire days exploring the outdoors. Why do you think I enjoy posting lots of instagram videos about my outdoor experiences? I know people who have never faced those fears like I have.... and trust me. It is not a life I’d wish on anyone. So no matter how scary it is- you do have the strength to do it, but you have to be gentle with yourself and take gentle steps.

And to face these fears in this way? Gives you a CRAPTON of confidence, let me tell you. I’ve never been more certain I can face whatever life throws at me- because I keep forcing myself to face the scary things anyway.

And 4- the thing that took me the longest to learn.

4. There is nothing wrong, with doing medication.

For years, I did everything I was supposed to. I went to therapy every single week. I journaled almost daily, I made myself start taking walks- I made myself start doing things I was too scared to do, and so I did EVERYTHING I could.

And I want to make it extremely clear, all those things I did changed my life significantly for the positive. But sometimes, on top of all the other junk, you still have a chemical imbalance going on. Remember, the human brain is huge and complicated and it takes a lot of things to function the way it’s supposed to. And sometimes, something in it is just kinda off.

From my extremely, EXTREMELY limited understanding of the brain (don’t @ me) my brain was either burning through serotonin too quickly, or not producing enough. Serotonin is related to a lot of things, like depression and anxiety.

Even though I did all the other things I was doing, and they were DEFINITELY, absolutely helping me- there was still an imbalance- and I began taking medication to help correct it.

And there is a reason I put this on number 4. The only reason the medication helps as much as it does, is because I have all the other skills I’ve gained. Medication is not a cure all. It helps with my anxiety yes, but only because I’ve gained the skills to recognize when I’m having increased anxiety. Because I know when I need to journal, or take time to myself, or spend a day outside, or to talk to my therapist- THAT is why my medication has helped so much. My medication was the final step, literally the final tool I needed, on top of everything else I use daily to keep myself mentally in check.

And a final thing to remember?

This takes time.

When you do all these things, the therapy, the journaling, all this self assessment, what you’re really learning to do, is to reprogram your brain. I was reprogramming my brain from having intense fear from going outside. I reprogrammed my brain in a billion more subtle ways, to benefit me. I only was able to do this, with a licensed professional, that I connected with and that I could tell cared about my wellbeing.

And five years ago, hell, even three years ago- I was a wreck. And all this work? This struggle? This deep dive into my brain? God, it’s so worth it. It’s really, REALLY damn worth it. I had to teach my brain that it didn’t need to protect me by putting up all these barriers, that I wanted to feel all the things it was trying to protect me from... and it’s changed everything. I’ve never felt so content.

And once again, that IS with diagnosed complex trauma, anxiety disorder and PTSD. You can live with those things and be happy, but you gotta fight for it. The fight is hard, but the results are absolutely worth it.

And even if you don’t think you can do it, I know you can. The brain likes to be really hard on itself, but that doesn’t mean everything it thinks is true. Because I’ve been there. I thought I couldn’t do it. I thought I’d be trapped feeling awful forever. But I fought- in small ways, then in big ways.

You just have to find the right direction to go. And, I hope this helps you pick a direction that will help you. 

[akaruta-kaito]

The Big Day

The day of the wedding was a flurry of activity. Kaito had an entire list of recipes to teach Hinan and to prepare for the reception afterwards. If he trusted anyone else to do it right, he would have just hired caterers; although after the meal C'arliani prepared the other night, his faith in the capability of others in the company to make a delicious meal was growing. On the other hand, he hadn't eaten much of it, and he didn't give it a proper analysis out of concern that it might seem rude. He'd just have to make a mental note to get together with her sometime and share meals.

Kaito had chosen a slow-roasted dodo recipe for the main course, since it would be easy just to leave it to cook while they worked on other things, along with mashed popotoes, gravy, and savory dressing. It was more of a traditional holiday meal, but the fact that it was easy to prepare and most likely something that everyone would enjoy made it an easy choice.

The majority of the morning and a good chunk of the afternoon was taken up by the two brothers preparing desserts once they'd gotten dinner started. That was a very necessary distraction from Kaito's anxiety. Having his brother there to banter and joke with while they decorated cookies and cupcakes to look like moogles was incredibly relaxing and fun. It also gave them something to bond over when before, they'd had little in common other than perhaps a crude sense of humor and a serious case of Cat Scratch Fever.

After all the desserts were prepared, the two of them packed everything away so that they could be easily set out without any additional preparation. Both were pleased with how everything turned out, even if some of the earlier attempts at stained glass moogle cookies and peeking moogle cupcakes looked a little funky. That was fine though - Hinan was brand new to baking, and the flaws gave the treats character.

"Nee, aniki," the Raen began, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as he turned to the Xaela. "I actually have something for you, to thank you for helping me out, and--..." And to give your life purpose now that the Garleans have taken that from you like they did to me for so long... "And to, ya know, help you get better at your new hobby." Close enough.

Hinan raised a brow slightly, but gave his brother a sinister-looking smile. It wasn't intentionally sinister, of course; his face was just like that. "Oh, you didn't need to get me anything, otouto," he responded after a moment.

Even if that was the reaction he expected, Kaito was still slightly annoyed. This again. Thankfully, his expression didn't reflect it, and he simply grinned at his older sibling. "Yeah, I know, but I wanted to," he explained. The younger ducked under the bar counter where he'd hidden the gift, which he'd wrapped in shiny paper and ribbon, then handed it to Hinan.

Of course, Hinan's expression always looked annoyed-bordering-on-murdery, even as he opened his gift. Inside the paper was a handmade book with the words "Hinan's First Cookbook" written in Hingan, and the pages contained a number of different recipes that were sorted together as "Beginner," "Intermediate," and "Advanced" for a wide variety of dishes.

"I thought, ya know, if you wanted to try cooking more, this'd help," Kaito explained. "And I made sure to list out all the instructions in case I can't be right there with ya. Maru-chan and Ningyou-chan* can probably lend a hand too, I'm sure." [*Doll]

Hinan looked up from the book at Kaito and blinked a couple of times. "Ningyou-chan?" He paused, then snorted in amusement. "You mean Chakha?"

A wide grin spread across the Raen's face, and he nodded eagerly. "That's her!" he exclaimed brightly. "And, ya know, I'm happy to cook more with ya anytime I'm over here."

The Xaela looked back down at the book for a moment, then turned to his brother and enveloped the smaller Au Ra in a firm hug. Whatever Hinan thought of his gift, Kaito couldn't say, but he at least seemed gracious - if that hug told him anything - and not insulted by it.

There was still a lot that Kaito wanted his older brother to talk to him about, and a lot that he wanted to say, but fear, in whatever form that took, seemed to cripple them both when it came to discussing their traumatic experiences being in captivity. The younger sibling almost wanted to just blurt everything out, but a part of him knew that if he told Hinan outright what he'd been through, the elder would only take it as more reason not to complain about his own horrific encounter with the Garleans. Even saying something as benign as "I still have dizzy spells frequently" seemed like it wasn't likely to help Hinan feel any more solidarity with his baby brother. Walls had been built and fortified; there were probably only two people in existence who would be able to break them down, and neither of them were him.

"Well... guess I better go get myself all fancied up," Kaito said, giving his brother a lopsided grin once the hug ended.

Once again, a warm smile crossed Hinan's lips, and once again, it looked much darker and more menacing than the Xaela probably intended. "Just make sure to wear something over your speedo," he teased.

A boisterous guffaw escaped from the Raen. "Yeah yeah, wouldn't wanna do something so indecent when we're finally makin' honest men of each other!" he joked, giving Hinan's good arm a firm pat. "Thanks again for all your help, aniki... and wish me luck!"

"I would, but S'aeil's the one who's going to need it," Hinan quipped, clapping his brother on the back rather hard in return. "See you tonight, otouto!"

With that, Kaito took his leave, heading up to his room in the company house (well, Mhalv’a’s room) to grab his outfit - he'd kept it there so S'aeil wouldn't know what he'd be wearing. It wasn't anything spectacular, but they'd both wanted to surprise each other in a number of small ways.

The anxiety of what was about to happen was slowly creeping up on him, but more out of excitement than fear. He'd already decided moons ago that, in spite of his fears, he was never going to leave S'aeil's side. Getting married wouldn't have even been necessary, as far as he was concerned. They'd already made their promises to each other. The wedding was nothing more than a formality, a way for them to prove to the rest of the world that when they said they would be together forever, they meant it. Maybe we'll finally be taken seriously, he thought, snorting quietly to himself. Unlikely...

Before leaving, Kaito stood in the doorway, letting the memories of his first encounters with S'aeil flood back into his mind. Even though some of them were painful or frustrating - all due to outside sources or his own lack of foresight - they were wonderful, because all of that time brought them to this day. With a warm smile, the Raen pulled the door shut behind himself and made his way to the Black Shroud, eagerly awaiting the moment that he and S'aeil would be officially declared beloved husbands.

@saeils-ffxiv-hub @chocoblep

[artificialqueens]

From Under Liquid Glass (1)(Branjie)- Ortega

a/n: in the words of Malcolm Tucker, i’m on turbo! i’m sorry to disappoint u all and say that no, this is not part 3 to Your Move, although the good news is that a) re-reading it when i had to resubmit gave me all the feels and made me fall in love with the universe all over again and b) i finish work for 6 weeks so so soon, so i’ll soon have lots of time to get a part 3 constructed. yay! in the meantime, please enjoy this. as always…of course it’s a lesbian au. what else would u expect from me. it’s a completely self-indulgent almost-autobiographical thing that i began a while ago and i never submitted, so if people enjoy it then i’ll write some more. lots of love, bye!

p.s. the pin number line is stolen from a film. i think it’s called Employee of the Month. i watched it so long ago that i cannot remember.

p.p.s. i promise i’ll make my author’s notes short one day

Trigger Warning: lots of discussion around anxiety so avoid if u don’t want to face that

Summary: Brooke Lynn Hytes was always told she’d have it all. She was never told that “all” would include crippling anxiety. Signed off from work at 27, Brooke moves back to her childhood home and has to get her head around her fall from grace.

Vanessa “Vanjie” Mateo has no job, no degree, and -£32.65 to her name, but she prides herself on keeping a level head. That all changes when a certain high school crush moves back into town and back into her life.

***

“Brooke?”

Brooke’s eyes sharply darted up to her colleague, her friend, and the only person she could trust in this godforsaken hellscape of a workplace. She felt like a small, trapped animal.

Nina’s eyes were kind, but worried. “Should you even be here today?”

Brooke blinked one, twice, three times. In an effort to keep her breathing steady she took a big gulp of air, which was restricted somewhat by the pressure on her ribcage. Was she about to have a panic attack? No, she could reign it in. She wished she could stop crying, though, the tears falling in a steady stream from her eyes which hadn’t stopped since Nina had entered the dance studio and asked her how she was. It wasn’t a secret that Brooke was having a tough time of it at work- the pressure of a chaotic management to get as many children as possible into the most prestigious dance schools in the country was tearing her mental health apart, but she’d always been able to cope with tough things, been able to push on and get through it. Although now, it was looking increasingly difficult.

Remembering Nina’s question, Brooke looked up at her. She tried to push a smile onto her mouth as she shook her head, more tears rolling down her cheeks in the process. Brooke almost wanted to laugh. She must have looked horrifying.

“Oh, baby. It’s okay. I think you just need some time away,” Nina sighed, putting a comforting hand on Brooke’s arm and letting it rest there. Brooke’s heart broke when she realised that Nina’s own eyes were tearful. “God, this is all my fault. I shouldn’t have asked you how you were, it’s just made things worse-”

“Nina, the wind blows and I cry,” Brooke deadpanned, rolling her eyes at herself and causing her friend to laugh. She took a deep breath. “But no. Yeah. I…can’t be here just now.”

Nina nodded. “Do you want me to go and tell Michelle?”

Brooke exhaled loudly. She didn’t want to have to actively seek out her head of department in the state she was currently in. She thought about it for roughly three seconds, but in that time about fifty thoughts managed to run through her head like the end credits of a film played at double speed. “Yes please.”

Nina said some other vaguely comforting things. Brooke couldn’t process them. Her mind was replaying the scene from only four days ago over and over in her head- she had been at the doctor’s, sitting all scrunched up in the chair in front of her.

“I would really like to sign you off, because it’s your work that’s causing you stress. But if you’d rather give it a couple of weeks to see how you feel and make another appointment then we can definitely do that.”

Brooke wanted to laugh at the memory. Even in the fucking doctor’s surgery, a shell of her former self, in a literal appointment she’d made to try and repair her fractured mind, she had still been too afraid to say the words- yes, do it, sign me off- as that would have meant it really was completely over. Instead, she was here at work, hands shaking, mouth bone dry, and she was still typing at her computer in an attempt to get her reports finished.

Eventually, Michelle appeared. They spoke, and Brooke still hadn’t been able to stop her tears falling. Michelle had been supportive if not sympathetic, and Brooke had apologised for causing them all inconvenience once, twice, three times. Eventually, Michelle told her to phone her doctor and go home, and took her into her office to make the necessary calls. Brooke had taken some deep, shuddery breaths that felt as if she was trapped under ice.

She hit call seven consecutive times before there was any answer.

“Hey, Mum. Um. Can you come and pick me up from work?”

***

It was sort of entirely ridiculous, the fact that Brooke had reached the age of twenty seven and had never learnt to drive, but the moment that she saw her Mum’s white, midge-splattered family car roll up outside reception she had never been so glad of having not had a license. It had taken roughly 45 minutes for her to reach the school that Brooke taught in, and on the drive back to her house Brooke listened to her chatting away about how she’d had to take her cat to the vet’s for his injections that morning so she’d had to drop him off back home before she could come for Brooke. Brooke had been worried about phoning her Mum, and she knew she worried about her, but she reasoned that she was probably just glad Brooke was coming to be at home with her.

Brooke had thought about going back to her own flat and resting up there, but she knew all she had waiting for her there were some slightly withered potted plants. She needed to spend at least a day back home with her parents, be treated as if she was back in high school all over again. As pathetic as it sounded, she just needed looked after.

As the cars sped by on the motorway, Brooke looked at her reflection in the wing mirror, running her fingers through her hair and noticing her dark roots coming through in dismay. Brooke had always had a long, thick head of platinum hair, but various escapades in highlights and lowlights over the years had cause roots to begin to appear every so often. She’d always been organised enough to get it sorted before it ever got too bad, however as she looked at herself now she realised she must have slipped up. She noticed her Mum looking over at her from her position behind the wheel.

“I’ll treat you to a haircut while you’re off,” she said quietly, her tone cheerful and making Brooke’s heart hurt more. “And we can make a nice dinner tonight. How does fajitas sound?”

“If you’re nice to me I’ll cry,” Brooke said dryly, sighing deeply and sinking further down into her seat. She saw the sides of her Mum’s mouth jerk up quickly into a suppressed smile, the corners of her eyes crinkle and deepening her crows’ feet.

“I think there’s some bubble bath in the bathroom cupboard, and I’ve still got some of that Liz Earle face mask your Dad got me at Christmas. You can get a nice relax when we get home.”

“You are queen of serotonin,” Brooke gave a small smile, rubbing at her tired eyes.

It was hard feeling like she’d let people down. She’d forever been seen as a success in her family- the hard-working, quiet, well-behaved little girl, the head girl of her high school with straight As, a solo seal ballet dancer with an offer from Cambridge and eventually a First Class Honours degree in Education. A well-respected dance teacher at the last school she’d worked at, with staff who all loved her and children who respected her. The move to her current school should have been a great development opportunity- a private, fee-paying secondary school well-known for its excellence in the expressive arts. Instead all that had come with it was pressure, scrutiny, and absolutely zero support from any member of management. It was hard for Brooke to admit she was struggling, and it was even harder to accept that she’d lost her battle with work- she was going home. She wouldn’t be returning for weeks. She knew that several of the girls she taught had exams coming up in the near future, and her competition group had finals in a month. The thought of all of this made her stomach sink and her heart thud deeply, fight-or-flight impulse kicking in although instead of telling her to run away, it was telling her to run back. But she couldn’t of course- she was trapped in her Mum’s car rolling down the motorway back to the house she grew up in, back to the town she grew up in, and back to mundanity and quiet.        

Eventually, Brooke arrived home. She shuffled, numb and dazed, through the doorway, being brought back to earth with a bump by her family pet Henry, still a little tired from his vaccines and rubbing against her legs. She tuned in and out as she listened to her Mum explain that she’d have to go back to work until the evening (despite being sixty-eight, her Mum insisted she would never be able to retire) so Brooke had to be in the house on her own for a while. She had looked worriedly at her as she broke the news, as if Brooke had been about to break down sobbing, but she was strangely comforted in the fact that it would just be her and the cat and her house full of memories. It would be like spending time with an old friend.

So once her Mum left for work, Brooke tried to push her own work out of her mind. She took a long, hot bath and then found some cosy sweatpants and a huge black hoodie in one of the closets in her old bedroom, mixed up with old clothes she’d brought back from uni before she’d started her first job. It was funny to be back in her little pink-painted microcosm that she’d spent so many years in, really where she first began her struggle with anxiety. Brooke frowned at herself as she thought. She shouldn’t use the word struggle- she should use the word relationship, or battle, or coping, but if the very fact that she was back living with her Mum after a complete work-related mental breakdown didn’t indicate a fucking struggle, then what did?

Brooke then knelt down on her old white carpet and opened her wardrobe, the bottom of which contained a bunch of sentimental items that she had never gotten round to throwing away- old programmes from dance shows, certificates from exams, photos, her old high school yearbook. Opening it, she found the photos from her leavers’ prom and her eyes fell on one of her and her friends all standing lined up on Brooke’s staircase. She smiled as she remembered her girlfriends- Plastique, who she hadn’t spoken to in months, now working as an air hostess for Emirates. Yvie, who had moved to New York and was touring with some acrobatics company- she exchanged the odd half-arsed catchup Facebook messenger message with her now and again. Scarlet, who she’d fallen out with before uni over some childish thing- she couldn’t remember what, but they hadn’t spoken since. Bianca, who only lived then next town over but could never make their schedules match up for a coffee, so busy was she with her job at a fashion editorial. Detox, who she’d fallen out of contact with. It was so fucking sad. Everybody else seemed to have a little group of school friends they still spoke to, at least if she went by what instagram showed. Looking at the photo, Brooke felt a million miles away from the girl with her hair swept up in a bun wearing a blue satin ballgown, and she couldn’t quite believe it had once been her.

Pushing the yearbook to one side, she finally found what she was looking for- some mindfulness colouring-in book her Mum had once bought her for Christmas full of different patterns. At the time, Brooke had wanted to make some comment about how it was cheaper than therapy, and the memory made her snort an ironic laugh. She sat gently on her old bed, all freshly made up with white sheets and pillowslips although still with its old mattress that sagged in the middle. She coloured for an hour or so, and then decided to listen to some relaxation tape she’d found through an anti-anxiety app she’d once downloaded in a vain attempt at self-care. It was hard to switch off. Every time she finally felt as if her mind was clear, some thought from work would hit her out of nowhere with a start, like a car crashing into her. So it was a welcome relief when she eventually drifted off into a nap, her mind finally at peace from its self-inflicted torture.

Brooke woke to find it was still light outside, her Mum perched gently on the edge of the bed and her eyes crinkled up in a smile.

“Good sleep?” she asked, her voice quiet. Brooke stretched in response. “I need to take a walk to the shop to grab stuff to make fajitas. You want to come with me?”

Every fibre of Brooke’s being wanted to stay curled up in the bed, but she found herself saying yes.

That was how twenty minutes later she found herself staring with glazed eyes at a crate full of red onions, as her Mum tried to find the one that was the least bashed. Brooke took a deep breath and tried not to grow irritated with her as she watched her pick up and put down onion after onion.

“Mum, you’re not quality control. Just get one in there,” she said weakly, reaching over herself and putting one in the shopping basket her Mum had slung over her arm. As they traipsed the aisles, Brooke found her heart hammering in her chest as she realised- here she was in her home town, wearing black baggy sweatpants and a black shapeless hoodie, Birkenstocks on her feet, with black roots poking out through her hair. She was a complete sight, but her saving grace was that most of the people she’d known from school had moved out, and that it was a relatively big town. She wasn’t really likely to bump into anyone she knew. At least, that’s what the logical part of her brain told her. The part captained by anxiety had convinced herself that the supermarket was a front and that the aisles were all about to peel away to reveal her standing on stage as part of Ant and Dec’s Saturday Night Takeaway in front of an audience of millions.

Eventually, they had completed their circuit of the shop and Brooke was helping load everything onto the conveyor belt when her Mum suddenly gave a small cry. “Shit! I need cat food.”

“I’ll get it,” Brooke said, trying her best not to sound downtrodden as she strode slowly away from the checkout desks. On the rare occasions she’d spoken today she’d either been on the brink of tears or she’d given her best impression of Eeyore on beta blockers, and it was a million miles away from the voice she knew she was able to speak with. It frustrated her.

Reaching the pet food aisle a couple of metres away, she marvelled at the astronomical price of ground up pieces of animals that humans didn’t want in sauce, picked up four little gold foil trays and was about to turn around when the unthinkable happened.

She heard her name.

At least, she thought she had. It sounded as if it was being said in a girls’ voice, perhaps her age or slightly younger. Either way, that wasn’t good news. Frozen in place, she decided to turn back to the tills when the voice stopped her again. This time, it was clearer, distinctive, and it hit her like a ton of bricks.

“Brooke Lynn?”

Brooke slowly turned around, trying to mask the confusion on her face when she locked eyes with the girl who had spoken her name. She was small, with tanned caramel skin, dark hair and perfect makeup, and Brooke didn’t recognise her at all. What she did recognise, however, was the voice.

The girl took a couple more steps towards her, putting down her bags full of stuff from other shops and giving an awkward wave. “Hey! It is Brooke Lynn, right? Shit, sorry, you just really look like a girl I knew in high school-”

“No, yeah, it’s me…” Brooke began, then trailed off, embarrassed because she looked exactly like someone that was failing at life and because she still had no idea who the fuck this girl was. “Um sorry, this is embarrassing, I actually don’t remember you.”

To her credit, the girl gave a blush and a loud laugh. “Aw no, shit, no, of course you don’t. I mean, why would you, right? I’m Vanjie, remember? We went to the same high school? When you were in sixth form you helped out with the Year 7 dance club? I went to that.”

A brief flash of memory shattered through Brooke’s already very crowded mind- Vanessa Mateo, a small, slightly chubby girl with braces and a big attitude, who answered her dance teacher, her friends and Brooke back, who had a lot of potential and a fiery temper. Brooke did remember her. She was very different to the girl in front of her just now.

“Oh, God, yeah, no, I remember you,” Brooke stammered out, trying and failing to cover up her disbelief. “No, yeah, shit. I didn’t recognise you at all, you look so different!”

“How so?” Vanessa raised an eyebrow, as if she was daring Brooke to start digging.

“Well, um, obviously everyone looks so different back in high school. You got the braces off, obviously. And you lost weight, right? You look so good. Not that you were needing to lose weight, I mean you were what, fourteen? And there’s nothing wrong with being bigger, obviously. I’m not saying you were big at any point, just-”

“Jesus, are you havin’ a stroke?” Vanessa suddenly let out a peal of laughter, her eyes at once mocking but kind. It was a funny gaze to be regarded under, but not an altogether unpleasant one. Brooke found herself letting out the first genuine laugh she’d omitted in days. “Girl, it’s fine. I was ugly. We all were in high school. Except you. You always looked fine.”

Brooke gave a humourless laugh, gesturing down at her clothes. “‘Looked’ being the operative word. I usually don’t go out like this, honestly.”

Vanessa gave her a once-over with her eyes and shrugged. “You don’t look so bad. Could wear a bin bag and your face’d still look the same.”

Brooke felt a sting of blush prick at her cheeks, not used to being flattered. Vanessa frowned, clearly sensing Brooke’s embarrassment and quickly changing the subject.

“So what brings you back here? I know you didn’t stay when you left high school. What’re you up to now?”

“Oh, uh,” Brooke felt her heart tightening. It would be so easy to lie- it’s not like she’d ever see this girl again after their chance meeting in a supermarket cat food aisle- but if she was being honest, Brooke didn’t even have the energy to come up with a simple lie. So she felt herself jumping straight into deep, freezing cold conversational waters, and her heart froze up as she spoke. “I’m just back home for a visit. I actually got signed off work today. So. Yeah. I was a dance teacher at one of the private schools through in the city. I mean, I guess I still am, I’ll have to go back at some point. But, yeah. That’s where I’ve ended up. I bet that’s the glamorous life you would have expected the head girl to end up living when you were sat in assembly all those years ago.”

Vanessa gave a sympathetic smile. “Damn, that sucks. I’m sorry. Still, it’s good you’re taking time out and being open about it and stuff.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t go around telling every fucker all my problems. You just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Here’s all my emotional baggage. Hope you enjoy it.”

Vanessa’s face lit up as she laughed again, and Brooke felt something in her heart warm up. Maybe it was because Vanessa’s reaction had been so blissfully unremarkable, as if Brooke had told her it was going to rain tomorrow. Maybe it was the way they were talking like old friends, despite the fact that Brooke’s only claim to knowing this girl was through teaching at a dance club she went to twice a week ten years ago. Brooke often forgot, however, that she’d always been under the spotlight being head girl in sixth form. The year sevens, straight out of primary school, had all looked up to her, and that was exactly the year group Vanessa had been in. It felt weird seeing her as an adult, quickly working out in her head that she had to be twenty-something by now.

“So, uh. What did you end up doing yourself? Do you still dance?”

“Dance? God, no, I can barely even walk in a straight line these days. Uh, no, I do nothing. I’m professionally unemployed at the minute,” Vanessa’s foghorn voice grew quieter, rubbing her neck as she spoke. “I apply for jobs, they reject me because I have no experience and no A Levels, the cycle begins again. It’s a great job. I’m lovin’ life.”

Brooke smiled at her and shook her head. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up about it. Job hunting is a full-time job in itself, you need to be kind to yourself about it.”

Vanessa smiled shyly as Brooke spoke, which made a little bubble inside Brooke pop. She’d so rarely seen Vanessa smile before, since most things she’d said to her in dance club had been met with a defiant scowl or a frown. She looked nice when she smiled.

Brooke was suddenly pulled out of her thoughts by her Mum shouting over from the till. “Brooke! What’s my pin number?”

“5280, Mum. Now we’ve gotta change it again,” Brooke shouted back, delighting as she turned back round and saw Vanessa laughing at the exchange. Brooke realised she was still holding the cat food. “Well, I’d better go before my Mum gets frauded. But it was nice seeing you, Vanjie.”

“You too, Brooke Lynn. Take care, okay? Hey,” she said suddenly, reaching into her shopping bag and holding out a bouquet of pink lilies. "Here. I bought them to brighten my flat up, but I think you need ‘em more than me.”

Brooke blushed in spite of herself, and she watched as Vanessa smiled shyly back at her. “Oh. Thank you, that’s sweet.”

Brooke could’ve sworn Vanessa blushed back at her as she shrugged. “Well. I’ll maybe see you around.”

“Yeah, see you,” Brooke stuttered out, as Vanessa picked up her shopping bags and passed by her with a little wave. Dazed and confused, almost as if she’d felt something land on her but couldn’t feel what it was, she made her way back to her Mum and handed over the cat food to the girl at the till wordlessly. Her Mum raised an eyebrow.

“Ooh, who was that? A gorgeous girl giving you flowers?”

Brooke rolled her eyes. “Mum that’s not…no. It was a girl from high school, we were just catching up.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I know I always give flowers to whoever I catch up with from high school,” her Mum said dryly, avoiding Brooke’s eyes as she packed up her bags. “Come on, then. These fajitas won’t cook themselves!”

Brooke nodded and absent-mindedly sniffed the flowers in her arms, a smile forming on her face that she wasn’t aware of until it was firmly planted there.

[doubledeaky]

Life is Beautiful

Joe Mazzello x Female!Reader

A/N: Hi, everyone! So, this is my first imagine and I’m super excited and a little nervous to share it with you all. I’ve been wanting to post my writing for a while so I’m biting the bullet and finally doing it! I actually wrote the first draft of this piece at 3 am while half-asleep so you know it’s got that sleep-deprived passion already baked into it! Warning, this is super fluffy and came out a little cheesier than I intended but I’m still proud of it. Alright, hope everyone enjoys! Feedback and requests are much appreciated! :)

word count: 2,154 words

warnings: mentions of mental illness and suicide

Your eyes darted drowsily from the right side of your living room to the left side of your living room. You’d been sat on the couch for some time; how long, you didn’t necessarily know. After work, you’d retired your fake smile and allowed the numbness hibernating in your body to emerge and settle in every corner of your being. You don’t even remember at what point in the evening you had begun crying, your mind was in a thick fog of sadness. The couch had come to know you better over the past two months, seeing as you rarely left its comfort during your free time. The television in the corner was on and Three’s Company played, but you weren't watching. Your phone had been ringing steadily all evening but you didn’t have the will to answer. You slumped in your seat and stared at the ceiling while the ringing noise that had made itself comfortable in your ears slowly drowned out any surrounding sound, including the familiar jingling of keys and a door being opened cautiously. Joe was home; he greeted you as he strode into the living room but you never shifted your gaze to acknowledge him. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair before retreating into the kitchen. Your mind registered his presence but everything else was having a hard time putting on a front for his sake. Today was just one of the worst among a string of bad days. Days like this were more prevalent in your life now than they had ever been and it scared you. You still didn’t acknowledge Joe when he walked back into the living room. The part of you that was fully aware and conscious didn’t want to chance a look at your husband, you knew his expression would break your heart and you didn’t know if you could bear the weight of his gaze today. Joe was the one to finally break the crippling silence. 

“Y/N, what’s wrong? You didn’t even acknowledge me when I walked in. Why have you been so distant?” His words pulled you from your comatose state and you could sense the tinge of anger laced within them. It took everything in you not to wince or cower; he had a right to be angry and you had no reason to make him feel guilty because of that. You had been distant; his words held true and maybe that was what made fresh tears stream down your face. You didn’t want to face the reality of your situation, it was easier to dwell within it. Your voice was weak when you answered him.

“I don’t mean to be, Joe. You know that.” You tried to sound reasonable, like you believed the words coming out of your mouth. Joe, however, didn’t buy it and pressed further. 

“Why have you changed so much, Y/N? You're not yourself, I don't even recognize you anymore.” That stung and you couldn’t help the choked sob that escaped your throat. Joe immediately regretted his words and attempted to inch towards you cautiously, almost like a human approaching a wounded animal. You felt his presence before you but you didn’t dare meet his eyes.

“Look, Y/N, I’m sorry I-” you interrupted his apology as you stood, meeting his eyes for the first time this evening. He looked worn, his red and teary eyes mirrored your own. You drew in a deep breath, terrified the anxiety swirling in your gut was going to spill out beyond your control. 

“No, you're right. I have been distant; I’m not myself. I’ve been putting on a show for months now. I can’t keep pretending, Joe. I can’t keep pretending I’m not miserable because it helps you sleep better at night. I can't keep pretending because it’s convenient. I’m so fucking sad, Joe. I’m lonely and I feel it to the point of madness. God, it’s too much, I just wan’t it to stop. Why can’t I make it stop?” At this point in your rambling, you had been reduced to a pile on the floor, your body caving in on itself, attempting to retreat from your own existence. Joe followed you to your position on the carpet, took you in his arms, and rocked you softly. Your skin burned from the contact, it was the first time you had felt pleasant stimulus in weeks and you sobbed. You had missed this, you missed being with Joe. Even though he had never left, you had. Someone you didn’t recognize had been taking your place these past few months and it felt like you were finally reuniting after being apart for years. Joe felt it too and he relished in the feeling of you pressed against him, this was a step in the right direction. Any contact you both had shared over the last few weeks had been empty. Joe interrupted with a sad voice, still clutching you like he’d lose you again if he didn’t

“You don’t have to feel this way, Y/N. I would do absolutely anything for you and you know that. Why haven’t you told me?” he all but sobbed into the crook of your neck. What was left of your heart disintegrated, this wasn’t what you wanted for him. The guilt in your chest rose and settled at the front of your mind, this is why you never said anything.

“I’m sorry, Joe. I just don’t want to worry you or stress you out. I just want you to be happy. I’m supposed to be your partner not your child, you shouldn’t have to take care of me when I fall apart. I don’t want that for you, it’s not what you signed up for.” You explained and Joe had to restrain the absolute heartbreak he felt, all he wanted was to take care of you, to see you happy. 

“Y/N, baby, don't you see? I’ve been miserable right along with you. I know you don’t want me to worry but I can’t help it when I know you feel like this. God, I haven’t been able to eat I’m so worried. Your happiness is my happiness, Y/N. It’s my job to make sure everything is rosy, sweets. No matter what you may believe to be true, you aren't my burden, if anything I’m yours. I don’t know how you do it, babe. I just wan’t you to be okay.” He says through a cracked, wet voice. He was facing you now, trying to read your features for anything familiar. You can’t help the grin that cracks your somber facade, his saccharine sweet words always brought you back from a slump. God, what had you done in your previous life to deserve a man as amazing as Joe. Your first instinct was to embrace him and who were you to deny nature. You buried your face in the material of his sweater and he returned your gesture with even more passion. Joe cheered internally, he finally saw the woman he loved emerging from the dark

“You’ll be okay, my love. I’ve missed you so much.” he says attempting to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. You couldn’t help but sob at his words, you had missed yourself too. The rest of the evening was spent this way, enveloped in each other’s warmth. It had been a feeling you missed and you wondered how you'd gone so long without it. You both fell asleep entangled amongst the sheets and one another, like so many of the nights you’d both shared before. The only difference now was that you drifted to sleep looking forward to the morning sun seeping through your window, washing you and Joe in a warm glow reminiscent of a Renaissance painting. Your last moments before a much needed sleep overtook you was the familiar sound of Joe’s breathing and a warmth returning to your heart. 

Three Months Later-

Recovery hasn’t been easy and you didn’t expect it to be. Three short months ago you had experienced your lowest point and the way up has been slow and tasking in all aspects. Despite humble beginnings, your recovery has been beautiful, you feel whole again and it’s a state of being that you missed dearly. You had finally found yourself again and your pride shone bright in everything you did and Joe had been witness to it all. The change occurring in you before Joe’s eyes was like night and day. He finally had his girl back, you were all there. The woman he had fallen in love with had finally returned. The woman who was extraordinarily kind, unbelievably funny, and effortlessly beautiful had finally come home. Joe had a rejuvenated energy and similar to yourself, he felt whole again. He was grateful for every step of the process; he was grateful for the endless tears, sleepless nights, and screaming matches, it was worth every setback and hopeless thought. It’s a hell he would go through everyday if it meant you were happy. 

For you, life had finally begun to fall into place. You were living the life you’d dreamed of since the tender age of fourteen. It was a feeling like no other but throughout the process you felt there was still something missing, it was a feeling you couldn’t shake. It was a feeling that didn’t dwell within you long because life always has great timing when something is meant to be. Life is funny like that. 

Pregnant. The plus sign in the little window of the test was blurred behind your tears, your tears of joy. You were pregnant. Your body couldn’t even register the shock it was feeling. The excitement and happiness that was bubbling in your system almost expressed itself as a scream. You cried silent, happy tears and couldn’t help but do a little cheer in the privacy of your shared bathroom. You couldn’t wait to tell Joe. The family you’d always longed for was phasing into existence and your body hummed with joy. 

You heard Joe before you saw him. He dropped his bag to the floor and you heard him call out for you. You exited the bathroom; test hidden behind your back and a big, goofy smile plastered on your face. Joe became aware of your presence and gave you a confused look, cocking his head and giving you a grin. 

“What are you up to? Have you been crying?” he asked suddenly concerned and as he takes a few steps towards you, your smile only grows. 

“What?” he says curious as to what you have planned. You silently bring the test from behind your back and hold it out to him. Seeing the positive test is all Joe needs and without warning he’s picking  you up in his arms and holding you tight. 

“No way,” he all but shouts, grinning like a mad man. You can't help the tears and watery laugh that escapes you. 

“You’re going to be a dad, Mr. Mazzello,” you say, waving the test teasingly in his face. He grabs your face gently and kisses you hard with a passion you’d grown so accustomed to you felt it even when he wasn’t around. 

“I can’t believe it. We’re having a baby,” he says, pushing fallen hair from his face as tears slip from his amber eyes. He's smiling wide with an almost blinding intensity and it’s a sight for sore eyes. You cherish it, praying it never leaves the factions of your memory. Joe falls to his knees, placing both hands on your lower stomach. There is no bump present but the thought of the baby growing within you has his body thrumming with excitement. He is in complete awe at the woman before him. The woman who had gone from her lowest low to her highest high with such grace and poise. You were his heaven on earth and he hoped you sensed that. He hoped his love for you was evident in his every action and in every word he spoke. As he held your form, he felt that God had crafted this moment in the sands of time, it was a scene that envied any romance film. Joe had been in and seen many films, but none that moved him as much as the one you and himself were starring in. He grinned up at you, rising to his full height to plant a kiss on your lips. 

“I love you. God, I love you,” he whispers so delicately you knew it was only meant for you. You hold him tightly, words failing to accurately convey the measure of love you held for him and him alone. The rest of the evening is spent this way, wrapped in each other’s embrace, similar to most of the nights you share. Only now, you both wait with bated breath for the day when the sun will seep through your shared bedroom window and shine on your family of three, washing you all in a yellow glow and reminding you of how beautiful life can be. 

[manonmidgen]

OH HUNTER; IF YOU DIDN’T WANT THE BEAUTIFUL SO BADLY, PERHAPS YOU WOULD’VE FOUND IT IN YOUR SPIRIT SINGING SOFTLY.

❝ she thinks that she’s the worst so she acts like she’s the best. ❞ NANA KOMATSU? No, that’s actually MANDOLYN ‘MANON’ MIDGEN. A SEVENTH YEAR student, this GRYFFINDOR student is sided with MCGONAGALL’S ARMY. SHE identifies as CIS-FEMALE and is a PURE BLOOD who is known to be CONCEITED, FAKE, and FICKLE but also HARD WORKING, ENCHANTING, and MAGNETIC.

tw. bullying.

links. pinterest.  spotify.

stats.

MANDOLYN ‘MANON’ MIDGEN ,

7th year gryffindor. Pureblood. Prefect.  President of the potions club.

Gemini Sun / Sagitarrius moon / Scorpio rising.  / born 20th june 1:12pm

wand: hawthorn / dragon heart string/ 14 1/2″ / brittle

patronus: would produce a swan if produced. 

NEWT classes: potions; herbology; charms. 

favourite subject: potions. least favourite subject: history of magic.

electives: divination & care of magical creatures.  

character inspo: mia thermpoplis ( princess diaries. ) caroline ‘ cool girl’ ( snotgirl. ) lottie person ( snotgirl. )  | albums : melodrama by lorde / lush by mitski

see more here ! 

bio. ( this got long, but i can offer you this meme in this trying time. ) 

IT’S TOO UGLY TO BE HUMAN. IT’S TOO UGLY TO BE YOU. CHILDREN ARE SCARED OF THE DARK; THERE IS NOTHING REAL TO BE MADE OF IT.

the midgen family , a lesser thought of pure blood family with nothing else to really say about them ; they say that the families money dates back to them having a stake in the creation of butter beer but there’s little to no historical archives to support this.   they, for the most of history, had simply just been; been nothing iconic or memorable but simply just existed in the sidelines. a safe and cautious place to be.

Madolyn Midgen,   the youngest of the midgen family tree and only of her generation, the first and only born of Eloise Midgen.   Although Eloise did marry,   a lovely pureblood named Rupert, the condition came that their child would keep the midgen name.         the midgen’s for long had only been blessed with a single heir each generation,    almost always a female, so the stipulation had been written into the family.

Most people don’t describe childbirth as the most beautiful things,  the babies red, screaming, and unkempt ; but most get over this hurdle in a few days. yet madolyn seemed to stay that way. her limbs not growing as they should, her face unexplainably red, and flaky, the puffs of black hair doing nothing to disguise the ugliness of the baby --        apparently the sight of her face alone was enough to cause the rest of the reception to burst into tears.

I THINK PERFECTION IS UGLY. I WANT TO SEE SCARS, FAILURE, DISORDER, DISTORTION.

minging midgen.

that was the smart name the 5 year old boys made up for her;       and like the world on atlas’ back, it was the burden that the ugly duckling carried with her - shackled with - for the rest of her childhood years.

Elementary school was just more of the same;  the girl that people would ask out for fun, for laughter, despite any kindness she might have held in her heart, her attitude couldn’t sway people to look past her stout figure and cystic acne. mud would poured in her hair; snails placed in her shoes; people who touched her were said to be cursed with germs -- ;      her attempts to make friends went most often in vain and her birthday parties went by every year without a single card or cake.

It caused Mandolyn to develop crippling anxiety;  body dysmorphia; the over emphasis of her flaws in her own eyes. she’d pick at her arms and glance at any mirror that she walked by ; any laughter that she heard she’d automatically assume it was about her.

this led to a shy girl ; who constantly burst into tears and without a single back bone in her body-- her spine would bend in on itself as a shield from any jeers,  but it also left her extremely comprisable to any suggestions. she would often just go along with anything suggested because of the concept that if she did what they say; maybe they would like her; maybe they would leave her alone.

she became the easy pickings of pranks, jeers, a punching bag with the stability of wheat.

Already at the ripe age of 10 years old mandolyn had been duly crushed by this role that she played in life, despite any encouragement from her mother or father.

They promised her it would get better, and it did. And luckily, after a few more years or two of sucking it up, it finally did.

AND SUDDENLY I AM A PHOENIX FROM THE DEPTHS OF THE EARTH AND IT WOULD ALMOST BE BEAUTIFUL IF THE WORLD WAS NOT ENDING

When she arrived to Hogwarts, she was sorted into Gryffindor which people assumed must have purely been a family heritage decision, as no one would ever think the girl who seemed to hunch in on herself so much she could roll down a hill could ever be a gryffindor.

The first two years of school were almost entirely uneventful,  of course, 11 years old love to pick on each other, and the rampant bullying followed her like wild dogs wherever she went, but she was slowly growing out of the childhood pudginess and gaining some length to the otherwise stumpy limbs she’d been born with. Mostly, she continued to fulfil the role she had played in primary school ; though, the presence of a few true friends made it somewhat bearable. they were thick as thieves;  completely nonjudgemental of each other, and for a second, it seemed that mandolyn was gaining some sort of confidence, but still, no independence of back bones -- - she simply just continued her childhood pattern of following.

The changing moment ( the birth of the phoenix ; the ugly duckling shedding the grey coat ) was three days after her 14th birthday, her third year, when spectating an impromptu game of quidditch left her in an awful face cast the likes that meant she had to momentarily drop out of hogwarts; a Midgen tradition to do as soon as something went wrong; She had to miss the last month of summer semester — and like the ugly duckling came back like a swan.

The late bloomer blossomed, and the magical cosmetic surgery didn’t hurt much either. But more importantly, the change in look seemed to go hand in hand with a change in confidence (the one bubbling now bloomed). The once shy and inept Mandolyn became well spoken ; charming ; magnetic ; alluring to the point that nobody recognised her at the beginning of the fourth year.

So Mandolyn rebranded herself as Manon, she says it means french for beautiful. Finally, she managed to receive the attention she had been almost dying for since she was a young child, at only the price of 2 months of education and weeks sat in a hospital.

But whilst her face became beautiful,     her personality soured slightly, which was noticeable to almost all of her actual friends ( the three of them that existed. )

Her personality became as fake as her face as she lied, cheated, and smiled politely to try and weasel her way into the social scene she had so longed to become apart of. She became liked, and popular, but at what cost ? The price of being able to have genuine human connections with most people.

Whom once was a genuinely nice girl, scared of human confrontation and going with the flow to avoid any problems grew a spine. and also a bite. she became snarky, slightly argumentative at times, and wholly competitive with being pretty and popular as her only real intentions. she began to care a lot less for anything genuine unless that genuine thing would benefit her in some regards. but despite the presence of a slight back bone, it was still as brittle as her wand,   she would still do anything for attention, to prove to herself that she was liked and popular.          easily manipulated & entirely fake.      the not blonde barbie doll with as many clothes and switching professions & friends. ( and ACCORDING TO THE RUMOURS; SHE’S FILLED WITH JUST AS MUCH PLASTIC ! )

in her fifth year; mandolyn is made prefect, she’s told by the head of gryffindor that her change in courage, determination, and ‘standing’ up to her bullies was a comendable feet, and in collaboration with her good grades and her pristine record, she was a great candidate for prefect.  mandolyn took the opportunity with open arms for she thought it would only help to bolster her now growing reputation.

YOU ARE STARING OUT AT A WORLD ON FIRE COMPLAINING ABOUT HOW UGLY YOU THINK THE ASHES ARE.

When the deaths hit, and the world suddenly became a lot darker than Manon could ever realise, her well perfected facade started to crumple, and the idea of popularity no longer seemed as ideal as it did in the past.

Perhaps it was longing for the simpler days without death around every corner, but she’s begun to doubt who she really is — and her impromptu decision to change her name is only aiding in adding to her identity confusion.

Part of her decision to aid in Mcgonnogal’s army is down to Manon trying to follow what she believes is the righteous path; fighting against the darkness that is seeping in through the cracks in Hogwarts stone walls. Because in Manon’s mind,   she feels that as soon as that problem is resolved, all of the issues that are surfacing in her mind will suddenly disappear — just like what happened when she got her magical face list.

wc.

less wanted, and more connection ideas to start plotting ;

- core long term friendship group,            the few friends manon had before she was ever manon-- the non-judgemental, supportive friend group who was always there for mandolyn to cry on // most likely might have felt spurned after manon’s re-invention of herself, or might have been passively against her new personality, or supported her new found confidence [ the current logistics are very easily changeable ~ ! ]

- the new influence of friends,                 the group of friends, or partying group, that manon wedged herself into after she re-invented herself as cool and ‘beautiful’ ( in her own opinion. ) // probably a friendship group built more on benefit and falseness than any actual emotion. [ again current logistics are very changeable ; it’s just a broad sentiment of ideas. ]

- the bullies,                 people who teased mandolyn because of her cystic acne, short limbs, uneven bone structure and poor posture -- and may have continued to after she rebranded herself.

- the love interest,               manon is more into girls than boys, but is very fluid and casual with her relationships so any long term interest is probably going to have some sort of angst based on that -- alternatively, i’m all for hook ups and one time things in building a web -- as manon most likely wanted to date as many people as she physically could to bolster her new reputation. 

- i’m obviously 100% open for more open plotting ;or filling any connection ideas anybody else has, so please feel free to message me surrounding that ! i’m really excited to be here and plot so !! yeah !!!

[daddyd0nt]

are you actually poor or just LARPing?

Im not “larping” but thats a hard question to answer.  Because globally no, im not poor, there are billions of people who are fatally starving and living in houses made out of mud and dying in the open street and that’s not the situation Im in.  I have a roof, I have heat, there is food in the fridge, but all of that is my parent’s or fiance’s I have like $6 to my name, so without them I would be SOL living on the street like most of my friends literally actually are.  

We’re also doing WAY better than we ever have because my dad is a union construction worker who had one leg crippled on the job but that could change very soon because the pre-school my mom runs is probably going to be shut down since it operates out of my old church but she doesnt turn away Muslim/Jewish/etc kids and the families in the church want a “Christian” [aka white] environment for their kids, and my fiance just had to switch jobs to one that pays 2/3 of what he was making before.  Im fighting the courts for my disability benefits at the moment so can’t work or they will use it as another excuse to deny me.  

We are getting by, NOWHERE close to the poverty I grew up in, Id say we are finally “working class” but we didn’t become so until my early 20′s.  I not only shared a room but shared a twin mattress with my middle sister until we were teenagers.  Ive drank powdered milk, ive eaten that nasty cheese-but-not-cheese, almost all my clothing is hand-me-downs from my brother or cousins or parents.  Ive never in my life had a phone that was less than 4 years out-of-date and had passed through three hands before mine, after which it gets given to my dad.  We also throw NOTHING out EVER so our house is cluttered with objects but other than sentimentality and the irrational anxiety that we one day might need it they are worthless.  If somebody were to rob my house, the only things worth taking are a bunch of laptops on their last leg and the firestick plugged into a TV that is older than my baby sister.

But $20 is a lot of money to me and I would throw hands if i think you screwed me out of a quarter.  Money “starts” for me at the dime most of the time, if that makes sense.

[bookishbeautie]

My Journey to Self Discovery

So this post was originally posted on my website here. The main reason I am reposting it is because I want to set up the blogs theme and I need some content to be able to see what everything will look like. 

But I am also very proud of this. Even though my thoughts are all a mess and there is no structure or proper grammar, I am proud that I have finally made my first post. 

Friday, November 8th 2019. 1:15 AM

Anxiety has seemed to cripple my life for as long as I can remember. Many of my family members who may read this may disagree as they generally think am an outgoing people-person.

The truth is, it is only around very select few people that I tend to open up and have more confidence. Over the years the number of people I have in my trust circle has shrunk considerably.

I have never been one to have many friends, so it’s not like I ever really had a huge group of people around me, but all the people I thought I trusted and knew well enough to have in my life until I was well into my old age has shrunk all the way down to zero. The only people I really consider close enough to trust would be my family.

This doesn’t mean that all these people left, there were a couple people that I had considered to have left (and I don’t blame them), but for the most part it was all my doing. But nevertheless there is still the emotional pain from these loses that I never seemed to have processed.

I have never had a steady sense of self. There is not one thing that contributed to this, but I do place a lot of blame of the bullying I endured while I was growing up. I grew up wanting to please people. I wanted people to like me. So when people didn’t like me for whatever reason - whether it be because I dressed a little more tomboy and alternative than all the other girls my age, or because of my taste in music, or even just because I seemed to be the sore thumb of my grade. The bullying never stopped. At one point I found myself asking what I needed to do in order for them to just leave me alone

I got a whole list of things I needed to do. And I pretty much had to change everything about myself. And let me tell you, I tried. I asked people I considered friends how I could accomplish

This moment has always stuck with me.

This seems so silly to talk about now when this happened like 15 years ago, but these are still memories that weight on my heart and seem to prevent me from moving forward with my life.

I have such a fear of judgement and abandonment, I have based almost all of my life decisions around those fears.

Because I would give into my fears, I slowly gave them more and more power and didn’t notice that in return my world was growing smaller and smaller. I started reaching out to people less, then would rarely reply when someone reached out to me. I started going out less and preferred to stay at home. If I made plans I would cancel them last minute even though I would then be swallowed by a wave of depression knowing that I was doing more damage than good giving into the anxiety

And this pattern has happened for years. The more independence I have gained with age the more I seem to isolate myself. I give too much power to the voices in my head that tell me I am not good enough and that I shouldn’t even bother participating in life because happiness is not something you deserve.

And it is so hard getting out of that mindset when every molecule in your body believes that and has believed it for the majority of your life.

Of course I want to better myself. Of course I want to live life for me and achieve all the things I dream about at night. I want to travel the world and carve my own path in life. I want to have a family. I want to make a name for myself. I want to pursue my passions. Yet the dreams I have always had did not match the expectations and family and most of all society. I have never fit in a mold, I have always done things my own way, yet I have now had the courage and the strength to stick up to all the voices that are telling me I will fail or that I am not good enough.

The past un-dealt with fear has festered for so long I can barely accomplish anything. Whenever I do start a new venture or hobby, the passion comes on life a tidal wave. I could stay up for days straight brainstorming new things, but when it comes to actually sitting down and putting genuine effort in, I panic.

The voices in my head start getting louder. I have the voices of my parents criticizing me for not ever finishing anything. The voices in my head of my peers who laughed and mocked any time I did put myself and my work out there. I felt like I could never make anyone happy.

But thats the exact problem.

I have lived my entire life wanting to make other people happy thinking that peoples opinions of me will equal what I am worth. While I have craved to life an independent life solely for myself, my actions have done the complete opposite.

And now I am a 26 year old girl who is still living in her teenage self’s head.

But that’s where this blog comes in. This beautiful blog that I have been trying to start since May 2013.

For reference, it’s now November 2019.

That just tells you how shit I am at doing anything.

But I am tired of living this way. Im tired of living in the past. I am tired of giving weight to the opinion of people who don’t matter in my life. I am tired of worrying about what everyone thinks of me and thinking I need to get others approval of myself if I am ever going to be happy.

I hope that through this self discovery journey I am able to connect with others out there who may have had similar experiences. I am hoping to learn how to trust other people and let people in. I am a very emotional person but it seems when it comes to friendships I have built up walls too high for me to scale.

But most of all, I hope I can use this blog as a journey of transformation. Right now I know my head is a jumbled mess, but I am hoping that the more I just right and document how I am feeling and what exactly I want out of life, I will slowly be able to paint a vivid, colourful, exquisite life for myself.

I'd also really like to learn grammar. I know this must be painful to read.

Baby steps.

Lisa

[urlocalkpoptrash]

BTS Reactions| S/O has a bad day. (Hyung Line)

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Warning: Implications of having Anxiety.

Concept: You’ve been having a rough day, and your loving boyfriend knows how to help you, even if you don’t know how much help you really need.

A/N: I literally said 5 hours ago, that this would be up in an hour. I’m awful, I’m sorry! 😭 This was a request. I hope you enjoy, little flowers!

- - - - - - - /

Jin

The apartment was dark, except for the dim light that shined over the chair that you were perched in. You had your finger clutched to your phone, staring at the text message. You felt the tears begin to well up in your eyes, and the hole that you tried to ignore was starting to grow in size. You closed your eyes, letting the river of tears finally overflow down you heated cheeks.

Jin rounded the corner, leaving the game room he had spent most of his day in. He looked around, realizing just how heavy the air was, and how gloomy the lighting in the living room was. He looked towards the only light in the apartment, and saw you wrapped up in a small blanket, your head had fallen down and soft sniffles were coming from your nose.

“Jagiya?” He spoke, worry seeping into every letter.

He swiftly made his was to your side, kneeling in front of you. He placed his hand on the exposed skin of your knee, making small circles with his thumb. You opened your puffy, red rimmed eyes. His face contorted from worry to pain, seeing you hurting enough to cry.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He pressed, hoping you would confide in him.

You shook your head, not ready to talk about it, not ready to face the reality. His lips curved down in a frown.

“Do you just want me to hold you?” He asked, brushing some hair from your face.

You nodded, more tears replacing the ones that had dried. He stood up, scooping you up from the chair. He sat in your spot, holding you close to his chest. You dug your face into his warmth, closing your eyes. He ran his fingers through hair, humming softly. He could feel your body start to relax, more of your weight pressing into his, as you fell asleep, escaping from the pain of the day.

Yoongi

Fired. You couldn’t believe that your boss fired you. He picked the new girl over you, and you had been there for two and half years, you were one of his best employees, and yet, he picked her. You were furious, storming around the house like a raging tornado. You had to gather all of your work possessions and return them the next day. You began to tear apart the house, looking for anything and everything that you got from work.

It wasn’t until Yoongi walked in the door, setting down his practice bag by the small table that sat beside the entrance. The sound of keys hitting the table made you whip around, your arms tightly crossed over your chest.

“I can never find anything in this house, because you never clean up after yourself!” You snapped, boring your eyes into his face.

He stood wide eyed, taken back by your rather abrupt behavior. He took another hesitant step into the house, letting the door close behind him.

“What are you looking for, baby, maybe I can help,” he said softly, trying to defuse the time bomb that was your rage.

“You want to help? Fucking CLEAN UP AFTER YOURSELF,” you shouted, throwing your arms in the air.

“I’m sorry, I will.” He nodded, taking another cautious step in your direction.

You had noticed that he was slowly getting closer and closer to you, you knew if he touched you, the anger would melt away and you’d be a puddle of tears. You shook your head, taking a few strides back, furthering the distance between the two of you.

He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling a pang of hurt in his chest as you moved away from him. He knew you didn’t do it because you didn’t want to be near him, but that’s still how it felt. He took a deep, steady breath before opening his eyes.

“What happened, Jagi?” He reached his hand out for you, letting you come to him.

As soon as his hand reached out, you felt the pull that only Yoongi had. It was a deep chest feeling, it was a call and response to him. You let the wall, you tried so desperately to keep up, down. You finally closed the distance between you two, walking into his arms. He wrapped you up in his embrace, kissing the top of your head.

“Let it out.” his lips almost touching your ear as he whispered soothingly.

You did. The tears freely fell from your eyes, the pressure that had built in your body was releasing, and you no longer felt the strength you had from the anger. Your knees almost buckled, but Yoongi took on your extra weight with ease. He bent down just enough to pull at your legs, pulling them around his waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck, hiding your face as he walked you down to the bedroom. You clung to him like he was lift support, and he didn’t mind. He sat down on the bed, his back pressed against the headboard as he gently rocked the two of you. He didn’t press on for what happened that made you feel this way, he knew you’d come around. He just held you, peppering your damp cheeks with kisses every couple minutes.

Hoseok

The world felt like it was closing in on you, and you didn’t know why. The rooms felt smaller, suffocating, and you couldn’t seem to find your breath. You paced around the apartment, running your fingers over anything you could find, keeping your mind occupied by reminding yourself that the objects under your touch were real, and not going to vanish away. The crippling feeling started to make a home in your chest, and the feeling started to spread through out your limbs, you could feel it taking over every inch of your body.

You heard the soft jingle of keys behind the door, you know hoseok would be behind the wooden prison. You sprinted over, fumbling to unlock it, swinging the door open. Hobi stood shocked for a moment, before he realized the look on your face. It was only seconds from the moment it registered with him, till you were in his arms. A trembling mess, falling to the floor in the hallway of your apartment. He held onto you as you took him down with you, pulling you into his lap. Quiet sobs tore apart any kind of resolution you may have had.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” He murmured lovingly into your hair.

His voice only allowed you to release more, a heart breaking cry coming from his chest where you face was hidden. He could feel his own tears start to build, he hated seeing you like this. He hated that you were in pain, and he couldn’t take it away or transfer it onto him some how.

“I-I dont want to feel this way anymore,” you begged out loud, not necessarily to him, but to the universe.

The tears he tried to keep at bay spilled onto his soft, supple cheeks. He ran his fingers up and down your back, trying to find some way to soothe you, and for a while that motion had calmed your sobs, and you only released little cries every so often. He slipped his arm under your knees, and his other arm under your back.

“Hold on, Jagiya,” he kissed your forehead before lifting you up.

You complied, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck, laying your head on this shoulder, closing your eyes. You could hear his shoes tapping on the hard wood floors as he walked into the bedroom. You knew you were going to be okay, but right now you let the hurt live inside you, planting seeds that were sure to sprout into weeds, or maybe flowers. Only time would tell.

Namjoon

You had worked a double shift today, and the day before. The lack of rest and sleep was starting to catch up with you. The fatigue in your body made basic motions painful. It was close to one in the morning when you dragged yourself to the door of the boys dorms. You knew Joon would be asleep, but all you wanted right now was to be near him. He some how had a way of recharging you. You tiredly opened the door with a yawn, setting your jacket and keys on a hook by the door. There were no light on that you could see, and you expected as much. You pulled your hair from the messy bun that had been on top of your head for almost the entirety of the two days. You could hear Jungkook and Jimin playing video games, they were always night owls. As you got further down the hall you noticed the studio light on, your brows knitted down. Namjoon was still awake, even though he had an early morning. Before you went in there to check on him, you snuck into his bedroom where you kept some of your extra clothes, although at night you slept in one of his shirts, which hung baggy on your small frame.

You yawned as the fabric from his shirt brushed against your thighs. The light of the studio getting closer and closer, your feet aching from standing all day. You used your shoulder to push open the door slowly. The sound prompted him to turn in his chair, a dimple filled smile cracked his tired features. You felt his pain, you knew he was running on nothing.

“Hi,” you gave him a sleepy smile.

“Hi gorgeous,” His voice melted into your core like honey.

You made your way around the shelves full of figurines, and into the lap of your welcoming boyfriend. You tucked your head under his chin as he turned back towards the computer, shaking the mouse to wake the idle screen. A soft chuckle passed by your lips.

“What’s so funny?” He asked, his raspy voice vibrating against your body.

“Even the computer wants to sleep,” you giggled again.

He laughed, finding it funny either because he was so exhausted or he was delusional, because even you knew that wasn’t funny. One hand worked while the other found its way into your hair.

“How was work, babe?” He asked, glancing down at you.

“It was... long. One girl quit yesterday, and two people called out, so to say we were under staffed is an the understatement of the year. Someone threw their drink at me, one of the new waiters spilled his guests entire entree on me, I can’t tell you how many times my feet got stepped on. I had two dine and dashes, which caused me to get write up, and money taken from my tips. I was constantly getting yelled out, and everything I did was wrong. If the food was cold, it was my fault for not grabbing it quick enough. If a cook forgot to take something off someone’s food, it was my fault for not reminding them. I couldn’t do anything right.”

You hadn’t even realized that you had tears on your face till Joon wiped one away with his thumb. His delicate gaze was full of worry. You don’t know when he had stopped working, and started to looked at you, but obviously long enough to see you cry.

You sniffle pathetically, meeting his eyes with a sad smile. You reached up, and he caught your hand, holding it in his, pressing his lips to it.

“I’m okay,” you reassured him, “I didn’t even know I was this upset about all that stuff. I guess I’ve been so distracted I haven’t had time to think about everything,” you felt a sigh escape your chest.

“Promise you’ll take tomorrow off? You can come to my shoot, and just watch the boys and I work,” he cupped your cheek with his other hand.

“I think that’s a good idea,” you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes.

Soon after this conversation you two both thought it would be a good idea to go to sleep. Usually you two stayed up because of pillow talk, but that night you passed out holding on to one another.