#so. i had to do this. for my mental health. cheers gang-

[lunar-wandering]

so there's this tiktok trend-

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Angsty Curtis Brothers fic

My mental health really isn't mental healthing today so I tried to channel that into this. Hope you enjoy :)

**************

“Good hustle, Curtis,” coach claps him on the back as he jogs off the field and he grins, pushing dark sweat soaked hair out of his eyes. 

They’re up by a touchdown and one field goal- that he’s responsible for- and with possession and just two minutes left in the fourth quarter they’re reasonably safe, though the game isn’t over until it’s over. 

His teammates pat him on the back and compliment his kick as he guzzles back water, and it’s not hollow per se, but even after two years it still feels skin deep. He’ll never be one of them, never be rich, never be quite good enough, popular enough, socy enough, no matter how good his kicks or how well he runs plays. They accept him, maybe some even like him, but they’ll never want him, not really. It doesn’t even sting anymore.

The people who do really care about him watch from the bleachers. Mom and dad are there, dad talking with his hands like usual and mom laughing at him like she always does, too in love to ever scold him for anything. They wave at him across the field when he catches their eye and it almost feels right. Almost. 

The gang is around too, though less obvious in their support of him. Two-bit and Dally are pelting a group of freshmen with popcorn, while Steve, Johnny, and Soda are all smoking near the gap in the fence. They’ll be gone as soon as the final whistle blows, and he really can’t blame him. The end of the match is always the hardest for him too. 

33..32…31…

The clock ticks down steadily, their team and the visiting school fighting back and forth without either team gaining any substantial yards and then the whistle blows and they’ve won.

Like every game they've ever won, the victory feels worse than losing. 

His teammates cheer and thump him on the back while the fans flood onto the field and the coach gives a short congratulatory speech before telling them he’ll see them at practice tomorrow.

Then it’s perfectly, blessedly over. Except it isn’t, is it? It never is, not really.

“You coming to the afterparty, man?” Jared Strong, one of the nicer guys on the team and also one of the biggest, asks, “Damien’s hosting and his parents are outta town.”

“Nah,” he shakes his head. Rarely does he go to parties with the team, even though he usually gets an invite. He has no love for pretending to be something he isn’t. Not anymore at least, “I got other plans. Thanks though.”

“Have fun,” Jared nods politely, his helmet dangling in one hand, pale hair stuck to his face, “I guess I’ll see you at practice tomorrow?”

“For sure. See you Jared.”

“Bye Pony.”

He watches as Jared rejoins the rest of the team, shining brighter than the rest of them even in his stained and sweaty jersey. Jordan’s captain of the team, nicer than the rest of them, obviously more skilled even though he never bragged about it. 

Jared reminds him of Darry, and it’s hard not to hate him for it. 

It’s been two years, but he can’t help but wonder if he’ll ever really recover from it, or if the hole Darry left in the world is going to be a permanent fixture rendering his life a theatre production he stars in as Ponyboy Curtis with the demands of Doing What Darry Couldn’t Finish.

He wishes he could be bitter about it, but it just feels like a weird sort of penance. Not that he was the one who killed Darry- no Paul Holden and his alcoholic buddies and their too fast cars had done that- but there’s an odd sort of peace tied in with the pain and the guilt of trying to make sure Darry’s legacy is never forgotten. He’ll never be football captain or boy of the year, but he can play the game Darry loved and go to college and get out of this town once and for all. Is it really his dream? He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t care because it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that Darry would know but he isn’t here, he will never be here again and it’s never going to be okay again because a piece of Ponyboy died the same night the police came to their door and told them about the accident and what use is there of living when he isn’t really alive?

Mom and Dad are both beaming when he makes his way over to them, and they’re both still living but they’re different now too, just like all of them are, and it shows in the way mom’s eyes are still bright but now they only ever shine with tears, and dad’s laugh is still loud but never so carefree as it used to be. 

“Great job Little Colt,” Dad ruffles his hair, and mom gives him a quick hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He allows it only because he knows Darry never used to. She needs the reminder sometimes, Pony thinks, that things are different, even though it’s something they all never forget.

He manages a faint grin but he’s tired of his performance, of pretending to be whole around the team, and he can see in their eyes they can see it. 

“Thanks. Let’s go home.”

Dad throws an arm around his shoulders but says nothing, something Pony is grateful for. He’s lucky to have parents who understand him so well, because most people don’t much like his silence even though sometimes talking is just so much work. 

The gang is waiting for them in the parking lot, clustered around dad’s truck and Steve’s car which are parked right next to each other. None of them are usually subdued- two years has given them all enough time to develop a new normal- but there’s a weight hanging over all of them that football games bring out. They’re all performers now, but all of them seem better at it then he is.

Well. All of them except Soda. 

Two-bit can joke again, better than he used to, and Dally is tougher and meaner than ever. Steve’s anger has been honed to a sharp edge, but he’s grown better about using it, his fights with the socs more frequent and violent, but his outbursts at the gang far fewer. Losing Darry had put things into perspective for all of them. Even Johnny was different, even though Pony suspects Johnny might have changed so he still fit with him rather than because of losing Darry. Not that Darry hadn’t loved Johnny and Johnny hadn’t loved him, but in the past two years Ponyboy has come to realize that Johnny spends a lot more energy taking care of him than his younger, more stupid self had ever been able to realize.

They all surround him when Dad drops the steadying arm around his shoulders to pull out his keys. Johnny hands him a cigarette without him having to ask, and he inhales half desperately, ignoring mom’s disapproving look and trying not to roll his eyes. He knows she’d hoped he’d wait until he was at least fifteen to start smoking, but If she can ignore Soda’s recent antics she can surely ignore his newly acquired habit.

Speaking of Soda, he’s currently reeling pickled and clearly far past the point of attempting to hide it. He’s paler these days than he used to be, and skinnier too, no matter how much mom is always hounding him to eat, and pony thinks maybe Soda’s the most ruined of all of them, or at least the only one of them that’ll never recover not really. Right now he’s living like he’s trying to follow Darry to his death, and the anger Pony feels has more to do with the sorrow that came with the fact that in losing his eldest brother he lost the human part of his other brother too.

Steve’s holding Soda upright, his arm under Soda’s shoulders while Soda slurs out a never evening stream of consciousness that none of them can understand, that stupid fucking flask he never goes anywhere without sticking out of his jacket pocket. Pony takes one look at dad’s tightly drawn face and locks eyes with Steve, both of them coming to a silent agreement, one he would’ve thought inconceivable before. Nowadays though, he and Steve Randle get along just fine.

He ducks under Soda’s other side, helping take the rest of his body weight, even though Soda’s got so slight as of late it’s hardly needed, and helps Steve guide him to sit in the back of the car. He’s so drunk he hardly seems to notice, still babbling incoherently.

“Thanks,” Steve huffs, and he looks tired, nearly as tired as Pony feels. He nods, and Steve nods back then goes to promise mom and dad that he’s sober enough to drive them all home. Mom and dad never believe any of them anymore, not without looking into their eyes and smelling their breath. Pony can't even blame them. They’d lost one son to a careless man’s drunk driving. Clearly, they couldn’t risk another.

Johnny climbs in next to him then, smiling softly, and Two crowds in after him. Dally takes the passenger side, and then Steve’s back, climbing into the driver’s seat.

Dally turns on the radio and rolls down the window while he lights up a cigarette, but even the rolling stones aren’t loud enough to drown out Soda’s talk, as much as Ponyboy wishes they could. 

It’s strange and wrong that they all fit in Steve’s car, a gang of six that’s meant to be seven, and also hardly a gang at all.

He rests his head on Johnny's shoulder next to him. 

Last week was the two year anniversary and everything has changed and nothing has changed, none of them are getting better, and Soda is still just getting worse.

Ponyboy sighs. They say three time’s the charm, right? Maybe three years will be enough. Enough that he will be able to look inward at the hole in his heart and it won’t look like a gaping wound. Maybe it will ache like a bruise instead of burning every hour like a knife wound. Maybe three years will be enough for him to be able to say Darry’s name without having to force it past clenched teeth. Maybe if he makes it to three years Soda will decide life is still worth living. Maybe he won’t.

Maybe three years will do what two years haven't. Maybe three years will be what it takes for them all to start to heal.

There’s nothing he can do but find out.

[shes4twnksinatrnchct]

Hell of a Show

Jake Kiszka x fem oc

Fifteen years after resigning from Greta Van Fleet, for reasons undisclosed to the public, Coley Payne is asked by her former band members to tell her side of the story.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, explicit language, angst, fluff, first love, drug and alcohol abuse, mental health struggles, character death, familial grief, reference to sexual situations, *explicit sexual situations (smut warnings will be mentioned pertaining to each chapter it occurs in).

Words: 2.8k

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has liked/commented/reblogged and even has just read this story so far. It really does mean a lot and I appreciate the support and your time! Thank you.

Please keep in mind this is a work of fiction and enjoy!

***LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED***

***Table of Content***

The Beginning: Part II

JAKE: Greta Van Fleet was born about four years later, and was done so without Danny or Coley, initially. 

It was me, a drummer that my brothers claim I “poached” from Jazz band in high school, Josh was singing, and Sammy—who Josh and I had ‘practically press-ganged into playing with us instead of doing his homework one random afternoon–was on bass.

2013

She can’t put into words the utter admiration and love that fills her while watching them perform, cheering and whistling as if it was her first time experiencing it anywhere else aside from the Kizska’s garage. 

And it doesn’t evade him—the undivided attention she offers up on a gold platter through starry-eyes and beaming a smile that shines a light of its own back onto him from where she’s made sure to get closest to the stage every show. 

It’s branded his memory like an iron, his mind tracing over the stamp of it as metaphorical bows are taken and curtains fall, the four guys finishing their set and making their way towards family and friends who have come to support them. 

He sees her engaged in conversation with Sherri and Julianne, Ronnie and his mother having joined them. 

When the girl his eyes are set on takes notice of them, she lights up. 

Jake’s always holding out a hope that perhaps one day, it’ll be him that she automatically locks eyes with after it’s all said and done, grinning ear to ear as she does so. 

But for now, she’ll go out of her way to ignore him to save herself some grief, and he’ll continue to step aside to let her bypass him and his brothers without interruption. 

As always, he refuses to watch her jump into Holton’s arms—her fingers in the damp locks of his ginger hair while letting out a laugh that she fakes to convince herself she’s happy—before the feeling of victory is run out of Jake’s body by defeat, and solidified in a kiss. 

JAKE: Holton was our first drummer, before Danny came into the picture…he was also Coley’s first boyfriend. I introduced them without realizing I was introducing them, and Holton chased after her endlessly until he got her. 

I realized, rather quickly, it was a conflict of interest by the time Coley joined the band.

The Kiszka’s garage rattles with the loud bouts of hollering taking place between the group of teenagers. 

“Look, we can try it and see if it’s—” Coley’s attempt to calm her riled friend and fellow bandmate is in vain as Jake ignores her entirely and cuts out to Holton, “I’m tired of repeating myself! I said I didn’t want the double pedal and you—”

“—You won’t even give it a chance, Jake!” Holton snarls at him. 

“Guys, please just take a breath, it’s not that serious!” Sammy pipes as Josh simultaneously shouts, “I just want peace!” despite the fact he has no problem ensuing such chaos of his own with his brother. 

“I don’t have to give it a chance because I know it sounds like shit!” Jake snaps back to the drummer, not even acknowledging his brothers or Coley. 

“Okay, Jake, let’s not start—” Again, Sammy is cut off. 

“—I’m surprised you can even hear it over the sound of your train-wreck shredding that you demand be blasted at the highest capacity!” Holton hisses, stepping closer to Jake, prompting Coley and Josh to ease between them should it result in the many arguments Jake and Josh get into. 

“Hey, we’re not doing this shit!” Josh harshly scolds them, needing this rehearsal to wrap up so he can head back to the school for his play practice. 

“It’s to cover up your lack of fucking tempo, prick!” Jake harshly barks back to Holton. 

This jumpstarts the both of them in a screaming match, sounding like two dogs fighting as they push closer to one another until Josh is dodging out of the way and yanking Coley back with him upon the realization that neither of the boys are paying any attention to either of them.  

Karen’s furrowing her brows in her bedroom, hearing the distant commotion of shouting downstairs, followed by the sound of breaking glass. 

Ronnie’s standing in the doorway of the kitchen’s entryway to the garage as she watches the scene before her with wide-eyes, having rushed to witness what was unfolding. 

Josh, Coley, and Sam have stumbled back to avoid getting hit with flying shards. 

The double-bass pedal lies in the grass of the yard, having sailed through the window of the garage by Jake’s hand. 

It issues silence momentarily, Coley’s hands resting over her mouth in shock and fear of Mrs. Kiszka barreling in here to let all of them have it.  

Holton only rolls his jaw, keeping his cool the best he can, and stomps to leave the garage to retrieve it. 

 Jake, in turn, rushes past him to get to it first—his two brothers and best friend running after them. 

“Stop being a child!” Coley scolds him as he fights Holton off the pedal, and slings the piece of equipment even further away from them. 

As soon as he turns back to face Holton, the drummer’s fist is colliding with his cheek. 

SAM: Jake and Josh would get into it all the time. Thrown equipment and punches were never a big deal because they were brothers, you know? They’d go at it, mom would come out screaming, and in a few minutes they’d be back to normal and complimenting one another's genius…but Jake and Holton got along great until Coley joined…I think it had a lot to do with the fact that Holton didn’t want Coley in the band and Jake knew that—but asked her anyway. 

Karen angrily finishes making dinner, fed up entirely with her son and his bandmate while overhearing Coley shouting at her boyfriend over the phone from the guest bathroom down the hall. 

She can somewhat manage Jake and Josh throwing fists and equipment, but Holton isn’t her child. 

He’s someone trusted in her care, and she’s not at all comfortable with the idea of he and Jake knocking heads so harshly that it comes to the destruction of property and results in blows. 

“…He threw it, Coley! That isn’t cheap!” Holton says to his girlfriend, who’s glaring at herself in the mirror as he speaks, her heart rate still high from witnessing Josh and Karen have to peel the two boys from one another once Jake tackled him. 

Thank God Holton’s mom was as understanding as she was, chopping it up to, “They’re boys. Boys fight over stupid things. They’ll grow out of it.” 

“Holton, you don’t hit people just because they make you angry.” Coley fiercely defends Jake, which is no surprise. 

“He threw $179.00 through a fucking window, Coley! I don’t think you’re hearing what I’m saying!” He outbursts. 

“I hear what you’re saying, and it’s still not an excuse to lay hands on someone!” She exclaims, her voice hurting her own ears in the small half-bath tucked away in the Kiszka’s downstairs hallway. 

“We’ve been together for a year now.” He says to her, pacing his bedroom. “You’ve been in the band for half of that, and that’s coincidentally how long he’s been a complete dick to me.” 

“What the hell do you want me to do about it, Holton? He’s his own person.” She exhales, waiting for his response. 

He wants her to care that their band mate is disrespectful and dismissive toward him. 

The drummer always looks at Coley to agree with him, take his side, and railroad Jake’s opinion the way Jake manages to do to his. 

But she endlessly tries to coax her boyfriend to just trust Jake’s judgment on a song, or a sound…

That’s what started Holton’s speculations that she has feelings for their lead guitarist. 

And, because he’s not blind, he knows for a fact that Jake cares about her beyond the reach of friendship and band-like comradery. 

He can see it plainly from his place behind the drums: the looks they exchange right in front of him, the silent flirting, the obvious attempts Jake makes to impress her…

In fact, the one thing Holton and Jake can agree on is the fact that Jake very much likes Coley, and she knows it—choosing to play stupid for the sake of not hurting anyone’s feelings. 

Holton falls silent, collecting himself before he says something to potentially hurt her feelings even more, eventually getting out, “Are you gonna crawl his ass like you’re crawling mine right now or is he gonna get puppy-dog eyes and a half-assed, ‘Please, don’t do that again, Jakey’?”

Wrinkling her nose, she rolls her eyes and states, “I’ve never called that boy ‘Jakey’ in my life.”

“I don’t know what the hell you call him when I’m not around, Coley.” He blatantly blurts, not even hiding the venom in his voice as he does so. 

Coley digs her teeth into her tongue, exasperated with the amount of times this gets brought up. 

So exasperated, infact, that she feels no need to defend herself anymore in the midst of his allegations, and hangs up on him. 

Leaving the bathroom, she rubs her forehead and lets out a deep breath before stepping into the kitchen. 

“I’m about to go, Mrs. K.” She tells Karen, softly. 

“Before you do, can you grab that bag of fruit from the fridge and go throw it at Jake? I told him to put it on his cheek and he didn't listen—shockingly enough—and I don’t want him to swell up anymore.” 

The icey chill of the freezer air nips at her fingers and she grabs at the mixed fruit in its bag, holding it up. 

“This?” She inquires, to which Karen glances at her and pipes, “Yep. He should be in his room.”

Jake winces when he tries to prop his pick between his lips in the midst of playing around with a riff he’s stumbled across. 

The ache in his cheek has spread to the muscles connected to his mouth, making it uncomfortable to even speak to himself under his breath. 

It’s when Coley shakes the bag of frozen goods that he stops what he’s doing and notices her standing in the doorway. 

“Your mom wants you to use this.” She throws him the bag and it lands on his bed next to him. 

Glaring at it, he disregards his frustrated mother’s attempt to ease his pain. 

He takes in a hiss when Coley plops down on the bed in front of him and presses the bag of frozen strawberries to his swollen, bruised cheek, not even bothering to flinch back and see if she accidentally hurt him any more. 

He eyes her like a wounded puppy—his big, obnoxiously pretty, brown eyes looking at her. 

“I’m so sick of this, Jake.” She tells him, her phone vibrating with the notification of Holton’s incoming call that she ignores, and he watches her do so, before he’s starting, “Maybe if he’d stop being such a dick—”

“—You took it too far.” She’s fast to get it out, shaking her head. 

“He punched me in the face, and I took it too far?” He inquires, furrowing his thick brows. 

“You threw it through a window!” She scoffs. 

The look of defeat on her face pulls guilt from him for the first time. 

Of course he feels bad for once again screwing up the window in the garage, but it seems he’s trampled all over Coley’s feelings in the process of proving a spiteful point to her irritating boyfriend. 

“I can’t keep defending you when you act like this.” She adds, having never volunteered to be the one trying to keep the peace between her boyfriend and her best friend—although she feels as if she has.

“You defend me?” He knows she does, he can see it in any disagreement he and Holton have.

The blonde rolls her eyes at his question, looking at him pointedly but not saying anything, to which he adds, “You don’t have to, you know—defend me, I mean. I’m a big boy. I can handle a few bitch fits.”

“I know.” She mumbles. “But I also know that Holton tends to be more harsh toward you even if it’s unwarranted, so…” 

His eyes shift as they look into hers, his hand leaving its stagnant place on his guitar to gently lay overtop hers that’s pressing the frozen bag to his face. 

Pulling her hand away, slowly, his eyes flicker to her lips. 

“I wouldn’t say it’s entirely unwarranted.” He speaks to her lowly, feeling a lump form in his throat. 

“Don’t look at me, look at the guitar,” is what he would say to her at least once each time he’d work with her after they turned fifteen, smiling almost shyly at the fact she had completely forfeited her specific attention on his teaching to just study him.

By the time they were sixteen, Coley was having to tell him the same thing in the process of trying to run a riff by him that she had learned on her own, feeling nearly paralyzed under his brown-eyed gaze. 

“Don’t look at me, look at the guitar.” She had stated, to which he didn’t even bother looking away from her to say, “I don’t need to look at the guitar. I can hear if it's right or not.” She  didn’t doubt him for a second because the only way he had learned to play was by ear, but his cocky little smirk highlighted the fact he used that as an excuse to permit himself to keep memorizing her the same way she had done him…then Holton started coming around, and because she wasn’t friends with him prior, and didn’t run the risk of losing him altogether, he was the more comfortable choice. 

Regardless of that choice, however, Jake’s list of priorities that included guitar and his freshly formed band, had shifted to make room for Coley, too. 

Rarely does he go without letting her know it without even having to say a word. 

The repeated ringing of her phone once again rattles against the bedding, pulling her away from him while she whispers out a soft, “We can’t.”

“Why not?”

It’s the million dollar question that she has yet to provide a good enough answer for. 

“I’m with Holton.” She repeats what she has to every now and then when it's just the two of them. 

“You don’t have to be with Holton.” He states. 

“We’re not shitty people who sneak around and cheat, Jake.” It sounds as if she’s trying to convince herself of it, pulling her brows together. 

“It’s not cheating if you leave him, first.” 

“Me breaking up with him and immediately getting with you is no different.”

“Things happen, feelings change, and avoiding them doesn’t make them any less real. Not everything has to be so damn black and white, right and wrong, Coley.”

“This is wrong.” She motions between them. “He’d be crushed if he knew we were even having this conversation, Jake.”

He stares at her, watching as she pulls her hand from his and grabs the bag of frozen fruit in her palm. 

“I promise you, Coley, he knows we’re having this conversation.” He says it while his fingers go back to the strings of his acoustic, picking at them quietly as if ending the conversation before she can argue. 

They both know that her boyfriend isn’t oblivious to what’s been brewing between the two of them for years now. 

“I have to go.” She mumbles, grabbing her phone to see she has two voicemails from her boyfriend.

Jake observes her blank stare momentarily, before pulling his gaze from her when she adds, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Yeah.” He quips, not attempting to speak anymore about it for the night. 

It’ll inevitably get brought up again in another month or two, and they’ll continue on as if it doesn’t exist. 

COLEY: It was a miserable place to be in for all three of us. I think relationships are supposed to be fun at any age, especially when you’re still kids growing into adults. 

None of that was fun for me or Jake—regardless of what the third party has spoken publicly in the past. 

I didn’t enjoy having feelings for someone else, while also bearing this self-imposed responsibility to stay with my partner at the time because I believed it to be the most sound decision. 

And Holton being kicked out of the band had nothing to do with any interpersonal workings of anybody’s feelings.

JAKE: Quite a bit was tolerated through that whole year of Holton being with us. 

Him being late to rehearsals, him wanting to be paid for rehearsals, skipping out on rehearsals altogether…lucky for us, Danny and Sam had grown to be close friends, so he was over at the house quite a bit, and even played guitar and drums. 

So, when Holton would no-show practices, Danny would step in. 

The last straw was the night that Danny officially replaced him. 

.

.

.

.

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Tag List: @edgingthedarkness , @zooweemama555

[starsarefire824]

this might be kinda personal and over-sharey buttt im feeling a little sentimental and i just moved into my first apartment and im catching up on the demons of change sequel fic and im just reminiscing on the early days of you posting demons and how i was like actively having a mental health crisis and honestly a life crisis - i had just quit my job and i was realizing that for the first time i truly did not know what i wanted to do with my life which honestly scared the shit out of me. but reading your writing was both a big form of escapism and a way for me to experience a lot of the overwhelming emotions i was feeling with a little distance - using the characters as a vessel for both processing and a kind of catharsis. it all just feels very fitting that you are starting this sequel rn, when im bound to start freaking out any day now lmao, and the same characters are freaking out with me again. i haven’t exactly figured out what i want to do with my whole life yet but i did figure out one thing i wanted - to move out and away - and now that i’ve accomplished that i feel like i might be back at square one again and that seems very prevalent to mike and will’s current experience in the story and im kinda hyped to do some hard core projection 😎

i also want to take a moment to thank you for writing these characters the way that you do, it is beautiful, relatable, and provocative. i feel like i experience the full range of human emotion every time i read your writing and its honestly helped me process a lot of hard stuff. so thank you for doing what you do, i adore you and your writing and i hope you are doing so wonderfully in your own life because you deserve it for all you have done for mine!! kisses!!!

First of all. Thank you for sending me this lovely message. I feel so happy and emotional that you would feel comfortable enough to share this with me!

I am sorry that you have struggled. It sounds like a very stressful time in your life and especially with the mental health stuff and having to move out. Times of transition can be so, so hard in life and can stir up a lot of trauma and anxiety so I am so glad that you were able to make it through, and also just be able to realize something that you needed. And not only that, but you've accomplished it! Congrats on the moving into your own place. I really hope your new little place becomes a home and a safe space for you! And hey, square one is hard, but sometimes it's the best thing that could ever happen. So cheers to you. 🥂 <33

It is funny that things in your life have coincided with Demons. And I just feel so thrilled that not only have you enjoyed the stories, but also that you could find them so relatable emotionally and help you process some hard things. That's more than anyone could ever ask for.

You know, I am at a point in my life where I'm doing a lot of therapy and a lot of healing and a lot of growing. And i hope that it leads to good things! Thank you for the love.

You've always been one of my biggest supporters since I started writing for Will and Mike and the rest of the stranger things gang and I always notice, always am thankful, always grateful to have you. Sending love and kisses your way as well! <3333333

[more-than-a-princess]

🐣What were you like as a kid? Allegedly? Has anything changed, and have people noticed?

In Depth and Personal Munday Meme - Accepting!

My favorite places as a child were quiet, full of books and/or dolls, and somewhere I could wear a pretty dress, eat sweets, and read to my dolls or stuffed animals. I'm an only child and have parents with busy careers, so I was left on my own (middle school and up) or with a sitter or nanny quite often. I had trouble making friends and relating to other kids as I was constantly surrounded by adults whom I could reason with: I'm pretty sure part of the reason why I was bullied so much was that I attempted to reason with other kids the way I did with adults (or tried to) and couldn't understand why they just teased me instead. I begged to be homeschooled but my parents said no and sent me to private school hell instead. I think the only time I really liked going to school for something more than my favorite classes was university.

That said, my favorite things in life were the bookstore and/or library, Scholastic Book Fair (I was that kid who ordered whatever I wanted off the book list and needed help carrying the bags to my parents' cars), the Disney Store (beeline for the stuffed animal tower and the TV playing film/song clips usually, if I wasn't distracted by dolls), and whenever I got new Barbies or American Girl dolls. I actually preferred AG more: the fact they came with books and girls from historical eras was the coolest thing to me! Those dolls and my cats at the time got to hear a lot of me trying to read aloud as much as I could.

I wasn't very athletic so sports teams were out of the question most of the time (I lifted weights instead starting in middle school in lieu of a school team due to how badly I was bullied. It just wasn't a great idea for my mental health to keep me around those kids longer than I needed to be), and I wasn't allowed video games until high school (right around when I'd sent my college applications) because my parents were convinced that if I played video games, I'd never get into a good university. This is a big reason why I never became much of a gamer! I didn't grow up with the hand-eye coordination practice with consoles and controllers many kids did. I also didn't get cable TV until the end of middle school: things like Nickelodeon and the Disney Channel were luxuries for me, ones I only got to indulge in at other family members' houses.

I think the funniest bit of it all is how I went from very much a dress-loving, pink-adorning, dress-wearing child to a teenager, constantly sullen, dressed in black/Hot Topic/early Torrid attire with the goth-iest high school senior photoshoot...and right back to a woman who adores dresses, classic colors, neutrals, and pastels, and just feels better about her day when pulling a dress and favorite pair of shoes/bag out of her closet, just to go to a cafe and shopping/a bookstore. My parents have definitely noticed this and are having the last laugh at middle/high school-era Rae, who would only wear wide leg JNCO style trousers with so many ripped holes at the bottom, bondage pants/skirts, anime/geek t-shirts, fancy dresses from The Pyramid Collection (I had a wicca phase) and the darkest red lipstick that wasn't black but still broke the school dress code so the administration made me wash it off each morning (despite me swatching it on my hand and showing them no, it wasn't black: black lipstick was banned, like jeans, miniskirts, tanktops, and anything featuring 'gang' logos or relating to Eminem or Nelly. Honestly, besides the jeans, good move school!)...is now a far more cheerful and content person, who has embraced color, dresses, bows, etc. once again.

tl;dr - my teenage years were awful, do not want to revisit no matter how much my high school keeps insisting I should show up for my 20-year reunion.

In a more nerdy sense, I'm realizing that in my late thirties with more disposable income, I can finally wear all the costumes I wanted to do as a teenage cosplayer but didn't have the funds to do so. I am doing or rewearing so many old school costumes in 2024, and upgrading some outfits I already love with higher-quality pieces.

[uffdah-riley]

Resignation || Self Para

Date: 10/07/2023 Featuring: A letter to Eilonwy & the rest of the football team @eilonwy-notjustgirl @ianthedisastrous @jere-me--oh-my TW: Mental Health Summary: Riley resigns from the intramural football team via email & the aftermath

To: eilllyr@pride.edu; ianlightfoot@pride.edu; jerjohnson@pride.edu; [ooc: insert all the NPCs here] From: rilanderson@pride.edu; Subject: Resignation Hey Gang, I hate to do this to us in the middle of a good season but I am gonna have to resign from the team. Some issues in my personal life are just gonna have to put extracurriculars on the back burner my dudes. I apologize for the inconvenience this poses to you all and hope that I can at least make it to a few games to cheer you all on. I wish you all the luck coming forward in the season, Riley Anderson

Sending that email was one of the hardest things Riley had needed to do in awhile. Which was silly, right? Quitting an intramural sports team should be easy! It was intramural! The games were, like, so not serious, right? Well, not to Riley. These were the things that Riley took personally. Other people quitting the team had always felt like a punch to the gut, a blow that came across personal and pointed even when it fully wasn't.

Sports were important to Riley, that competitive spirit burning brightly below the surface. It was a core tenet to Riley's persona and they felt a tear in their chest as they stared at their Sent box in their university email.

Riley didn't even bother waiting for sleep to climb up onto the roof. It was a bit trickier climbing out of the dormitory window but Riley had their nimble reflexes to thank for not falling. The cold autumnal air created goosebumps to raise across their skin and Riley allowed for the glamor to fall from their appearance as they stared up at the stars above.

"What am I doing?" Riley sighed. Their eyes traced over Lacerta—The Lizard—and Pegasus newly returned to the Northern hemisphere's sights. They didn't answer Riley's question, not that Riley had expected them to. They were balls of gas an unfathomable distance away. They couldn't possibly understand the plight of one lost elf in a world they hadn't been meant for.

Maybe they should talk to someone who could actually speak, not ancient constellations that had no eyes or ears to understand their wishes and struggles. So Riley pulled out their phone, dialing Meg's familiar number.

It rang...

And rang...

And rang...

They tried again.

It rang...

And rang...

And rang...

Nothing.

Maybe Riley was too.

[pretendingboyfriends]

A/N: ok WOW first off, i’m so sorry i literally haven’t posted since december. these past few months have been so wild what with new classes and my mental health declining. i can’t promise the last few parts of this lil series will come at a timely manner just because my mental state can be very unpredictable, but i will try my best to get them out as fast as i can, especially when summer is right around the corner. i wanna thank @thestyleswritings and @friendlyneighborhood-mendes​ for being my lovely beta readers. as i’ve said before, my writing is nothing without betas so thank u for taking the time to review my piece and give me honest feedback. anyways, i made this part extra long for you guys and i really really hope you love it. <3

Warnings: explicit language, panic attack, anxiety, deidre being a megacunt (as always), smut 

Word count: 9.3k+

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It’s been a few days since your first date with Harry, the two weeks you’ve planned to spend at the beach feeling far too short as each day passes like a whirlwind. And over these days, you’ve found that getting comfortable with him is an easier feat than you’d initially imagined. Moments with him are hardly fleeting. You find yourself spending most of your time with him, whether it be going for a swim on the beach or sneaking off somewhere in the house to make out. If this were anyone else, you’d feel suffocated spending so much time with them, but with Harry it’s so much different. You can’t keep yourself away from him, even if you try, and you’re beginning to think that the feeling is quite mutual for Harry as well.

The air is humid and warm, a quaint breeze sifting through the leaves of the palm trees that surround the pool’s fence, finding its way to where the three of you lounge. The kiss of the sun blesses your exposed skin as you and Deidre lie side by side on the poolside chairs. You've lost count of how many hours the three of you have spent in the afternoon sun, but, as hot as it is, you're thoroughly enjoying every moment spent actually being with Deidre for once. Even if you aren't actually doing anything but lying in the sun, just the fact that she's spending time with you for longer than an hour makes you happy. 

Your eyes scan each line of the book in your hands, allowing your brain to paint a picture of each image as best as it can. Deidre snores quietly beside you, arms draped over her face to shield her eyes from the blinding light and Harry splashes around quietly in the pool, occasionally pulling himself under for a few moments before coming back to the surface for air again. 

As you turn the page of your book, the sudden splashing of water fills your ears before several cold droplets hit your warm skin. It immediately draws your attention away from your book and up to where Harry stands in front of your chair. 

"Hi," You muse, pulling your legs up to curl beneath you. 

"Hi back," He smiles as he pushes his fingers through his long, dripping wet hair. 

You pluck your sunglasses from your nose and gingerly place them on the top of your head so that you can get a better look at him. "Need something?" 

"Could you grab me a Coke from the cooler, please?" He asks, yanking his towel from the edge of his own chair and wrapping it around his shoulders. 

"Yeah, sure." You nod, sliding a bookmark into the spine of your book and placing it beside you on the chair before reaching into the cooler next to you for an unopened can. The chilled perspiration dripping down the aluminum can causes a chill to travel up your spine as soon as your fingertips make contact with it. You reach forward to place it into Harry's hand, your fingers brushing against his for a brief moment.

He mutters a quick 'thanks' before cracking it open and lifting it to his lips. As he does this, you're given an opportunity to allow your gaze to fall down the rest of his body. His tanned skin glistens delicately in the sunlight, each droplet of water illuminated like tiny specks of glitter all along his chest and arms. The dark ink that litters his skin has somehow become a shade darker as well, each detail becoming more apparent to your eye the longer you study the expanse of his chest and shoulders.

"Enjoying the view?" Harry hums, very obviously amused by your mindless ogling. 

You clear your throat, feigning innocence as you internally burst into flames of embarrassment. "I don't know what you're talking about." (Luckily, Deidre is still snoring peacefully beside you, completely oblivious to the flirtatious comments being thrown back and forth between you and Harry.)

He chuckles, sipping his drink one last time before placing it on the ground by his chair. "Are you sure you don't want to come join me for a bit?" He motions back to the pool as he drops the towel back on the chair. 

"I think I'm alright staying here," You hum, tilting your head to the side as you gaze up at him. "I'm quite enjoying my book." You sigh, picking your book back up and waving it in the air to show him. 

He sighs in disappointment, shaking his head. "That's a shame. The water feels fantastic." 

You watch him turn back towards the pool, admiring the way the muscles in his back flex with his every move. He crouches down at the edge of the water, placing one hand on the cement as he slings himself into the pool, water splashing all around him. He swivels around in the water so that he's facing you again, his eyes trained on yours with a mischievous look on his face. You squint in suspicion, tilting your head to the side. "What are you doing?"

"Nothin'." He shrugs, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. He continues to wade out a little further and you roll your eyes at him, turning your attention away from him and back to your book. 

There are a few moments of silence in the air as you're pulled back into the imagery of the book, paying no mind to whatever mischief Harry is up to in the pool. But then, before you have even a second to process what's happening, cold water splashes up onto your legs, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest as the book slips out of your grasp. 

"Harry!" You screech, sitting up on your chair to scold him. He's standing in the water at the edge of the pool with an evil smile spread across his face, his hands scooping up the water and splashing it up in your direction. The mixture of your screeching and the cold water reaching her side of the pavement, causes Deidre to wake from her slumber, scrambling up into a sitting position. 

"Harry, what the fuck!?" She screams from beside you, grabbing her sandal from the ground and hurling it in his direction. He cackles dramatically as he dodges the shoe by swiftly slipping beneath the surface of the water. The shoe falls into the water behind him with a loud 'PLUNK' and then resurfaces, floating aimlessly.

He rises back to the surface within a few seconds, chuckling as he pushes the sopping wet hair out of his face. "Sorry, did I get ya?"

Deidre scoffs, angrily wiping the water droplets from her legs with her towel. "I was having such a good nap and you ruined it." 

"Oh, come on," He rolls his eyes, dragging out the 'n' with a teasing lilt. "I was just playin' around. It's gettin' kinda boring being in here all alone."

She lies back against the chair exactly like she had been before, draping her arm over her eyes once again. "Suck it up." 

Harry wades back to the side of the pool, folding his arms against the warm cement and leaning his chin against them with a pout on his lips. "Pretty please?" 

Before either you or Deidre even has a moment to respond, Deidre's phone begins to sing loudly with the sound of her ringtone. She pats her hand around the chair for her phone for a few moments, not bothering to lift her arm from her eyes to look for it. She finally grasps it, sliding her thumb across the bottom of the screen and lifting it to her ear. 

"Hello?... oh, hey, what's up?" She speaks to the person on the other end, finally lifting her arm from her eyes so that she can sit up on the chair. "Yeah, I'd love to! I can be there in, like-" she pauses to glance at the time on her phone. "10 minutes?" Another pause. "Okay, sounds good, see you there!" She lifts the phone from her ear, tapping the screen once to end the call before quickly standing up from the chair. 

"Who was that?" You ask, tilting your head at her in curiosity, though you sense that you already know the answer. 

"That was Jeff and the rest of the gang. They invited me to mini golf with them," Deidre replies, folding her towel over her arm and picking her sandal up from the ground. "You can come along, if you want."

Immediately, you feel your mood begin to plummet as you watch her get ready to leave, barely even giving you a second glance as she retrieves her sandal from the water. You know she's not doing it on purpose, but it's hard not to feel hurt by her inability to spend even so much as a day with you. 

"That's okay," You respond, trying to mask the shakiness of your voice with a cheerful lilt. "Have fun, though." 

"Okay, well, I'll see you guys later!" She smiles, waving back to both of you as she turns on her heel and bounds up the porch stairs.

After the sound of the back door swinging shut fills your ears, you glance over in Harry's direction to find that he's watching you intently. His playful expression from just a few moments ago is exchanged with a concerned frown. You sigh, picking your book back up in hopes of finding a distraction from the sinking feeling deep in your stomach, but Harry has other plans. 

A fleeting, silent moment passes before Harry decides to speak.

"Hey," 

The sound of his voice pulls your attention away from the book in your hands, forcing you to move it from in front of your face so that you can look at him. "Hi," you make eye contact with him, finding that he's still in the same position from before, arms folded on the pavement as his chin rests against them. 

"You alright?" He questions, tilting his head to the side as he watches you. 

You shake your head a little, glancing down at the book in your lap. "It's fine. I don't really know what I was expecting, she's been doing this for the past week and a half. I shouldn't even be surprised at this point."

He's silent for a moment, gazing at you thoughtfully as he thinks of what he's going to say in response. "You really should join me in here. It'll help you get your mind off things." 

You hesitate, rubbing the back of your neck with the palm of your hand as you mull over his proposition. It'd be nice to have a distraction from the nagging feeling of betrayal deep within your chest, and you know Harry will do anything in his power to make sure you feel better. After a silent debate with yourself on whether or not you really want to join him, you push yourself up from the chair, muttering a quiet affirmation before slowly padding over to the edge of the pool.

You crouch down, moving to sit on the warm pavement as your legs hang over the edge and dip into the cool, clear water. Harry pushes himself off from the wall, spinning himself around 360 degrees. 

"Come onnnn," He sings, wading closer to you. "Come swim with me."

You scrunch your nose, kicking your legs in the water and staring down at the way the water splashes up into the air. "Gimme a minute to get used to the water, jeez." You scoff, kicking a bit of water in his direction. 

He rolls his eyes, wading closer to you so that you can feel his warm breath against your knees and the current his kicking feet create beneath you. "That's an excuse if I've ever heard one,"  his fingers curl around your right ankle, giving you another mischievous smile identical to the one he gave you earlier. 

"What are you doing?" You squint your eyes at him, cautiously tugging your leg against his grip. 

"M'helpin' you get in," he hums nonchalantly. "Seems like you need a bit of coaxing."

A small smile breaks across your face and you roll your eyes, placing your hands on the pavement behind you and leaning back against them. "I'm quite comfortable right here, actually." 

"Alright, then you leave me no other choice..." Before you can even process what he's saying, he's grabbing your other ankle and yanking you into the water in one quick movement. The water splashes around you, engulfing you beneath the surface and immediately soaking into your bathing suit.

You resurface, sputtering and choking on the water as you rub the chlorine from your burning eyes. "I hate you so much right now," You huff, dropping your hands and squinting up at him. He's wearing an mischievous smile, fully content with his successful attempt of getting you into the pool.

"It's really not that bad," he rolls his eyes, wading further away from you. "You'll get used to it." 

You glare at him, shoving your hands forward beneath the water to splash him directly in the face, but he merely laughs and swiftly wipes the droplets from his eyes like it's nothing. You watch as he slinks towards the very edge of the pool several feet away from you, turning back to face you before grabbing a small, foam ball floating on the surface. He tosses it in your direction, watching it land directly in front of you, splashing the water gently. 

"C'mon, toss it back to me,"

You take the ball into your hand, squinting up at him. "Is this your idea of fun?"

He shrugs. "Got any other ideas?"

At that, you roll your eyes and reluctantly hurl the ball back into his direction. He catches it swiftly with both hands, tossing it up into the air a few times as he contemplates his next move. 

“Oh, my god,” you groan, rolling your head back onto your shoulders in dramatic exaggeration. “I’m not doing this.” You turn to wade towards the side of the pool.

“No, wait!” He calls, immediately running (more like bobbing) through the water towards you as fast as he can. 

You ignore his call and start to climb the side of the pool, but he catches you before you can fully climb out, curling an arm around your waist and tugging you back against him. 

“Please,” he mutters, pressing a tender kiss to the side of your neck. “I know you’re upset, but I just wanna help you get your mind off things.” 

You sigh, reluctantly dropping your hands from the edge of the pavement. You’re silent for a moment as he rests his chin against your shoulder, small puffs of air hitting your damp skin.

“I really thought she was going to try to spend time with me today,” you whisper, turning in his arms to face him. “She didn’t tell me she wouldn’t do it again, though, so I guess I’m the only one to blame.”

He frowns at that, shaking his head. “Don’t blame y’self for any of this. You had expectations for this trip and she completely obliterated them.” 

Jutting your bottom lip into a pout, you avoid making eye contact with him. You know he’s right. She promised you she’d spend the trip with you, just you, but she’s almost done everything in her power to do the opposite. 

Harry leans forward, pecking your pouted lips gently. He starts to pull away, but you want more so you lock your arms around his neck and he takes that as an invitation to continue, pecking your lips in quick intervals. Even though you’d only just begun to show affection towards each other in this short period of time, it feels like you’ve been together for years. Everything is just so easy with him. It helps that you grew up with each other, but your interactions were so scarce over the years that you didn’t even feel like you really knew him until this trip. 

As you’re opening your mouth ever so slightly for him to stroke his tongue over your bottom lip, the feeling of his fingers creeping along your waist has you chuckling nervously. “What’re you doing?” 

“Nothin’...” He hums, hooded eyes gazing into yours as he traces his fingertips up against your sides. He leans in for another kiss with a lazy smirk on his lips and you hesitantly grant him one, wary of his wandering hands. 

Suddenly, his hands aren’t so gentle anymore and the seemingly harmless pressure of his fingers has turned into almost painful tickling. You throw your head back against your shoulders with a cackle, pressing your palms into his chest in an attempt to push him away but he doesn’t budge. The vicious assault of his fingers draws giggle after giggle from your lips with the occasionally squeal of frustration as you squirm in his unyielding hold. 

“I. Hate. You.” You grunt between each word, smacking your hands against his biceps, chest, and shoulders playfully. 

Finally, you’re able to tear away from him, nearly diving into the water to get away from him, but he’s faster than you and within moments he has a large, tattooed arm curled around your waist once again. You scream out in frustration, kicking your legs in the water and causing it to splash out in front of you nearly six feet into the air. 

“You can’t escape that easy,” he chuckles into your ear, continuing his assault on your poor midsection as you whimper and struggle limply. 

Suddenly,  a loud rumble of thunder pulls your attention from Harry’s abuse and up to the sky. You've been so distracted by Harry’s stabbing fingers that you hadn't seen the dark cumulonimbus' gathering directly above you in the sky, uttering low groans of warning to anyone near. It begins as small, harmless droplets, but quickly blossoms into a violent downpour, pounding into the surface of the water. 

“Fuck!” You screech as you scramble to get out of the pool. Harry is taking his time, though, laughing at the way you’re panicking. “Do you want to get struck by lightning?!” You yell to him, yanking your towel and book from the chair you were lying in before. 

He laughs at you, climbing out of the pool and standing by the edge briefly so that he can wipe the moisture from his eyes. The sight of him standing there in nothing but a tight, wet pair of swimming trunks, nearly causes your mouth to water. If it weren’t for the raging thunderstorm pelting you and everything around it, you’d take a few moments just to soak in the view, but you have no time for that. 

You bound up the stairs leading to the back porch, holding your book and towel close to your chest to keep them from getting any wetter than they already are. Harry soon follows with his own belongings, giggling playfully like a little boy as the screen door slams behind him. 

“Shit- that came out of nowhere!” He chokes, pushing his hand through the sopping curls sprouting from his head and framing his beautiful face. 

You shake your head at him with a small chuckle as you toss your towel to the side and yank the sliding door open so that you can step inside. Harry tosses his own towel over a porch chair before he follows you inside, sliding the door closed behind him. The contrast of the roaring sound of the storm outside compared to the silence inside the house is almost deafening. Both of you are wet and shivering on the carpeted floor, looking shamelessly like a pair of greasy rats. 

Both of you shower (separately) and change into more comfortable, dry attire, soon finding yourselves in the kitchen scavenging for something to eat. 

“Y’know what I’m really craving right now?” Harry asks, standing in front of the open refrigerator. 

“What?” You reply, popping a grape into your mouth as you lean back against the counter.

“Chocolate chip cookies.”

You pause for a moment, contemplating the prospect of freshly baked cookies melting in your mouth. “Now that you mention it, I'm really craving some as well."

"I think it's something in the water." He hums sarcastically, scrunching his nose to emphasize the sarcasm.

“Perhaps,” you hum in response, a smile itching to spread across your lips.

"Alright then, let's do it!" Harry says, pushing himself away from the counter. "Let's make chocolate chip cookies."

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah! Come on, we've got nowhere else to be. This will give us something to pass the time!" 

Soon, you find yourself hip to hip with Harry at the kitchen counter, a large spread of every required ingredient to make chocolate chip cookies laid out in front of you. You'd found a few old aprons in the back of the pantry and of course you'd both thrown them on to make the experience as authentic as possible. 

Harry's apron of choice is a bright yellow number with tacky, purple frills lining the edges and the words "Grandma's Kitchen" stitched across the breast in that same purple color-all you can do is giggle at the sight of him. Yours, however, is nearly the opposite of his; a plain white piece with a pattern of small, black flowers.

Harry frowns at you when you begin to laugh at the sight of him in the apron. "What?? You don't like it?" He huffs, placing his hands on his hips.

"No, no-" you snort, attempting to hold in the cackle itching to escape your throat. "It's great, I love it. Really suits you."

He smiles to himself, turning to the counter. "Thank you, I think it's quite tasteful as well." 

You notice that he's pulled his hair up into a bun, so you're able to admire his face in the close proximity. He really is handsome, you think. His eyes are shockingly vibrant - piercing yet kind all at the same time. When he smiles, the very edges of his eyes crinkle as if they're smiling with him and it's getting harder for you to keep yourself from getting lost in them. You'd always found him attractive like that, but within the past week and a half you've gained a different, more meaningful attraction to him. He isn't just your childhood crush anymore - he's Harry. Harry, the boy who remembers how you take your coffee; Harry, the boy who takes you out to coffee and bookstores and proceeds to buy you nearly half the store without you even knowing; Harry, the boy that would rather spend his entire vacation with you when he could easily spend it partying with a new girl every night. 

You shake your head at him with a small chuckle, turning back to the counter before looking down at the recipe shown on your phone screen. "So..." you begin, scanning over the first few steps on your screen. "First, we need to combine all the dry ingredients into one bowl and then combine all the wet ingredients in another bowl."

"Alright," Harry hums through a nod, selecting all the dry ingredients from the layout in front of you and collecting them into his corner. "I'll mix the dry ingredients."

You acknowledge him with a quiet murmur before you continue to scan the list of instructions. As you do so, your vision begins to blur slightly. You ignore it at first, hoping it goes away, but when it doesn't, you're forced to blink a few times in an attempt to clear it. Your attempts are in vain, however, because your vision does not improve. Nevertheless, you choose to ignore it in hopes that it will go away on its own. 

As you begin to crack eggs; scoop perfectly measured cups of sugar; and combine softened butter all together into a bowl, a slight wave of light-headedness overwhelms you. It's unexpected, so you place the bowl on the counter, sliding it away from you slightly so that you can grip the edge of the counter to stabilize yourself. 

Harry seems to notice the shift in your behavior, nudging your arm gently with his elbow to grab your attention. "Is everything alright? Y'look a bit flustered," 

Before you're able to respond, your heart rate suddenly and noticeably begins to increase as well, causing your breathing to become more labored and frantic. You shake your head, gripping the edge of the counter until your knuckles are white, head hung on your shoulders as you attempt to catch your breath. "I think I'm- I think I'm having a panic attack," 

You sense him moving closer to you, a warm palm pressed against your back in a soothing manner. "Can I- What can I do to help?" 

"I just- I need to sit down," You mutter between breaths, turning slightly to slide down the cabinets and onto the floor with your hand still firmly placed against your chest. A slight numbness begins to form around your nose and your hands begin to shake uncontrollably as you crumple onto the kitchen floor. 

Harry follows quickly, moving to sit directly in front of you and gently taking both your hands into his own. "Can you try to breathe a bit slower for me?" He mutters, rubbing his thumbs against your knuckles soothingly. "Maybe in through your nose and out through your mouth?" 

You nod to him, taking deep breaths in through your nose and then breathing out through your mouth just like he'd instructed. The feeling of his thumbs rubbing against your skin so gently helps to ground you in the moment, although the feeling of panic and anxiety still rages through your veins. Just his presence alone gives you a level of comfort, but it isn't enough to obliterate the numbness in your face and the hot tears gliding effortlessly down your cheeks. 

You don't know how much time passes, but eventually your breathing has gone back to normal and you're left exhausted and still shaking. 

"Are you feeling better?" He hums, gently pressing his lips to your knuckles as he gazes up at you with the same concerned expression he'd been sporting as soon as your episode began. 

"Yeah- Yes," You stutter in response, leaning your head back against the wooden cabinets. "Fuck, I don't even know where that came from, I'm sorry." 

"No, please, don't apologize. Just wanna make sure you're alright,"

You give him a weak smile. "I'm pretty exhausted, but I'll be okay after lying down for a bit or taking a nap." 

"Yeah? Need me to help you up or do you want to sit here for a while longer?" He asks, tilting his head to the side as he smiles back at you.

"Do you think you could get me some water, please?" 

"Of course," He nods, immediately standing up in front of you to grab a fresh glass from one of the upper cabinets and fill it with water before kneeling back down to place it into your trembling hands. "There you are, babe."

You smile up at him. "Thank you." 

He smiles back as if to say "you're welcome" as he gently rubs his knuckles against your arm to give you some form of comfort.

It takes nearly 10 minutes for you to gather your bearings on reality again, but having Harry there helps so much more than if you were experiencing this alone. He watches you intently the entire time, hyper aware of every breath you take like he's afraid you'll fall apart in front of his eyes, and all you want to do is reach up and smooth out the deep creases between his eyebrows. 

"Could you help me up now?" You croak, squeezing his hand gently. 

"Yeah- yes, of course." He scrambles to securely wrap an arm around your waist, his other hand still clutching one of yours as he lifts you from the kitchen floor. Once you're fully stabilized on both of your feet, you look at Harry, hands resting on his shoulders as he cups his hands around both your elbows, searching your face frantically for any sign of distress. "You alright?"

You nod, giving him a weak smile and sliding your arms up around his neck to pull him in for a hug. His arms immediately fall to wrap around your waist, pressing your body into his in a warm, comforting embrace. 

"Sorry I couldn't finish making the cookies with you," You mutter into his ear, pressing your face into his neck. 

"S'alright, I can manage on my own." He replies, rubbing his hand up and down the length of your back. He can feel the erratic thudding of your heart against his chest, your slow, shaky breaths fanning directly over his ear simultaneously. His heart aches. 

After you take yourself back to your bedroom to rest, Harry finishes the cookies by himself. Due to his previous baking experience, the task is a breeze, but during the time he spends mixing and preparing the cookies, all he can think about is how angry he is with Deidre. He'd seen her, time and time again, take advantage of your kindness without a single thought as to how it might make you feel. She's selfish, and you're far too good for her. Deidre doesn't deserve to call you her best friend.

Just as he begins to pull the steaming, golden cookies from the oven, the sound of the front door swinging open from behind him catches his ear. Deidre stumbles in from the pouring rain, fumbling around as she removes her sandals and tosses her tote bag to the floor next to them. 

He pokes his head into the living room to look at her. She's almost completely soaked-- her long, dark hair is sopping wet, clumping together in thick strands, and her thin cover-dress is soaked completely through, sticking to her figure like a glove. He hadn't even noticed it's been raining this entire time. 

"Hey! Mini golfing got cut short 'cause of the rain." She smiles, pushing her hair out of her face as she looks at him. 

He responds with a low grunt, stepping back into the kitchen without a single word. Her peppiness annoys him. 

"Did you bake something?" She continues, sauntering into the kitchen. "Smells fantastic!"

"Chocolate chip cookies," he replies bluntly as he wipes the counter down with a damp towel.

"Can I have one?" 

"Sure, do whatever you want." He snaps, tossing the towel into the sink in frustration. 

She frowns at him, her shoulders dropping a little at the sight of the slight scowl on his face and the sudden outburst he'd just had. "What's your deal?" 

He turns to her. "What's MY deal? My fucking 'deal' is that you were meant to come here to spend time with your best friend and the longest you've spent in the same vicinity with her is when you're sleeping! She came here expecting to find a distraction from the shitty time she's been having at school and you've made it worse for her!" 

Deidre stands in shock, the hand that had been reaching for a cookie now fallen limp at her side. 

"She's in bed resting right now because she had a panic attack on the kitchen floor not even an hour ago-"

"That's not my fucking fault!" She interrupts him, throwing her arms out expressively. 

"Maybe not, but you're not doing anything to help her! You knew she was having a hard time at school and invited her here as a distraction, yet you left her to spend two weeks all by herself! If I hadn't have come along, she'd have been left on her own or forced to join you on your little escapades without a single choice." He huffs, yanking the strings of his apron to untie them from each other before pulling it over his head and hurling it to the ground. 

“You know, I asked her every time I went out if she wanted to come with me,” Deidre grumbles, shaking her head, “but she turned me down every single time.”

“Yeah, y’know why she turned you down?” Harry immediately retorts with a growl. “Because she didn’t want to spend time with a couple of random blokes that you know far better than she does!”

She snaps her mouth shut, a deep scowl etched across her brow as she stands in front of him. 

"You have no regard for anyone else besides yourself and I am not going to let you ruin this trip for her. So, PLEASE, keep doing exactly what you're doing because I'm positive she's had more time with me than the two of you ever had together!" With that, Harry storms out of the room and into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him and leaving Deidre standing speechless in the kitchen.

Unbeknownst to Harry and Deidre, the quarrel wakes you from your slumber in the other room, causing you to become a bit curious and move closer to the door so that you can listen to the lava spewing from both sides. The fight isn’t long, but you hear nearly every word. The way Harry so passionately defends you in the situation, which had initially caused you to feel so unbelievably helpless, gives you a sense of comfort. You know he cares about you, but there’s something so endearing about actually hearing him defend you with so much fervor. 

The slamming of Harry’s bedroom door echoes down the hallway, indicating the end of their conversation. You step away from your own door, the backs of your knees hitting the edge of the mattress as you sit. You can hear Deidre walking down the hallway, so to make it seem like you weren’t eavesdropping on their entire conversation, you return to where you were on the bed previously and pretend like you’re asleep.

“Harry?” Your knuckles rap against the wood of his bedroom door gently, careful not to wake Deidre in the other room by knocking too loudly. There’s a brief pause and a shuffling of bed sheets from behind the door before it cracks open, revealing Harry in his sleepy, disheveled state. 

“Hi,” He croaks, licking his lips and crossing his arms over his hoodie-clad chest. “Is everything alright?”

You sigh, scratching the back of your head nervously. “Yeah, um- sorry, everything’s fine, I’m just- I’m having some trouble sleeping and- this is stupid, but… could I stay in here with you?” It takes a moment for him to process your words, but once he does he’s nodding and stepping aside to beckon you into his room. “I’m really sorry, I know you were probably sleeping-”

“S’alright, babe, don’t worry about it,” he shakes his head. “Why don’t you go and get comfortable on the bed while I grab us some tea?”

You nod, giving him a small, tired smile as he steps out of the room, leaving the door cracked slightly. You make your way over to his bed, the duvet pulled back along with the sheets, indicating where he’d been lying on the bed moments ago. Your knees land on the soft fabric as you crawl further into the queen sized bed, finding your place on the other side where the duvet is untouched. A warm mixture of chamomile, jasmine, and a hint of cedar wood engulfs you when you lay your head on his pillow. The smell is intoxicating, one whiff could send you into a peaceful, drunken slumber. But, instead of actually falling asleep, you lie there for a few moments, listening to the gentle sounds of the ceiling fan spinning above your head as it lulls you into a quiet reverie. 

Soon, Harry is entering the room again, breaking you from your thoughts as you look to find him stepping through the door with two white, porcelain mugs filled to the brim with steaming tea. 

“I hope you’re alright with green tea ‘cause that’s all we have,” He murmurs, moving very slowly towards the bed.

“Green tea is perfect, thank you.” You smile, making sure not to burn yourself or spill any of the precious beverage as he crawls onto the bed beside you and places one of the mugs into your welcoming hands. Once the tea is secured, you adjust yourself so that you're sitting against the headboard, body tilted slightly in Harry's direction.

“So,” He starts, blowing on his own tea in an attempt to cool it down faster. “Is there a specific reason why you aren’t able to sleep?”

You take a deep breath, crossing your legs comfortably. “I'm, um, having a bit of anxiety and sleeping with Deidre just isn't helping since she's always making some sort of noise."

“Anxiety?” He frowns, moving his lips away from his tea so that he can be fully attentive to what you're saying. “Are you alright? Do you need me to help with anything?"

“I guess I'm still a bit on edge from earlier, so there isn't much you can do besides just keep me distracted,” you reply, forcing a small smile. "And the tea helps a lot as well."

"I can definitely do that." He smiles, leaning in to peck your lips gingerly. Of course, you welcome the kisses happily, pulling him in for a few more after he pulls away from the first one. He chuckles into your lips, deepening the kiss by tilting his head every so slightly to the side. Your free hand rests against his chest, so you can feel the gentle vibration of his chortle through the fabric of his hoodie and it makes you smile.

“Oh, also-” you continue after you've parted from his lips. “I never properly thanked you for the books you bought for me. I really do not deserve all that, but thank you, really. They will definitely be of good use.”

He smiles and shakes his head, “S’no problem. You seemed so enthralled by each of them and I thought it’d be a shame for you not to go home with at least a few.” 

You smile to yourself, glancing down at your tea. "You really didn't need to do that, but, again, thank you." You reach up to gently cup the side of his face, leaning a little bit closer so that you can capture his lips between yours once again. This time, the kisses aren't as innocent. Your fingers find their way to the nape of his neck, drawing him closer to you as his tongue slowly slides against your bottom lip. If it weren't for the steaming mugs of tea in both yours and Harry's hands, it would be so much easier for either of you to take more control of the situation and move into something more than just kissing. You can sense that he wants to do something, and admittedly you do too, but you pull away before anything can happen.

"That isn't the only reason why I came here tonight, though," you speak again as your lips part from his.

He frowns slightly, tilting his head to the side as if to ask: "what's the other reason?"

"I overheard your conversation with Deidre earlier." 

His eyes widen. "Oh, fuck- listen, I'm sorry I got kind of carried away. It just made me so angry to see her continuously treat you like that and I- I didn't mean to, like, speak for you-"

"No, Harry, it's okay," You interrupt him before he can continue rambling. "I appreciated it. I probably wouldn't have been able to do it myself, so thank you."

“I really didn't want to make it seem like you can't stand up for yourself, but I know it's just been affecting you so much lately and she needed to be put in her place, even if it made her angry."

"Thank you, really. Usually, Deidre would've been the person to stand up for me for something like that, but lately we just haven't felt as close. Even before this trip. Kinda started to think she just invited me here out of pity... And I honestly wouldn't blame her if she did. " You shrug, staring down into the tea to avoid direct eye contact. 

Harry shakes his head. “Don’t think like that-- I’m sure she really did want you to come, but just got distracted by other things. She tends to do that sometimes.”

You shrug wordlessly, keeping your eyes trained to the gently swirling liquid in your cup. 

When you look back up at him, you realize how cozy and warm he looks just sitting there in his hoodie and sweatpants, mug of steaming tea sitting at his pink lips. Your tank-top and shorts aren’t doing much to help with the chilled draft wafting throughout the house, so seeing him like that makes you want to crawl into his arms in search of warmth. 

He notices the way you’re shivering and moves to set his mug on the bedside table. “Are you cold?”

You smile sheepishly. “Yeah, a little. The anxiety gives me cold flashes.” He quickly tugs his hoodie over his head as soon as the words leave your lips, carefully taking the mug of tea from your hands and placing it on the bedside table before holding the hoodie open for you to slide your arms in easily. Your heart nearly melts at the sentiment, sliding your arms into the sleeves and pulling the piece of clothing over your head. It’s warm, soft and smells just like him, and it immediately gives you a sense of comfort. “Thanks.” You smile.

“S’no problem,” he replies, reaching over for your mug to offer it back to you. You carefully take it from his hands, thanking him before taking another tentative sip. The liquid is still a bit hot, but it has cooled down just enough for you to sip at your own leisure. 

“You’re way too sweet to me, Harry,” you sigh, tugging the sleeves of his hoodie over your fingers.

“Y’know, I don’t think I am,” he shakes his head, moving closer to you on the creaky mattress. “Think I should be sweeter, show you how much you deserve it.”

You scoff quietly, looking away from him to hide your flustered expression. “Oh, shut up.” 

He falls silent, the only sound that can be heard being the shuffling of the sheets and creaking of the mattress as he moves closer to you again. And then you feel it: his lips pressed to your shoulder through the thick material of his hoodie. It’s soft but it’s there and as soon as you turn your head to look at him, he pulls away, staring directly into your eyes with an almost unreadable expression.

“You deserve so much more than what you think you deserve. I wish I could show you that.”

You maintain eye contact with him, breath caught in your throat. You’re rendered speechless at the depth of his words, forced to take slow, deep breaths to calm the pounding of your heart as he inches closer. You open your mouth to respond, but you’re unable to speak a single word other than the faint murmur of his name. 

His hand finds both of yours as they clutch the warm mug of tea, (tighter than you’d initially intended due to the tension clouding your brain) carefully prying it from your fingers before placing it on the bedside table. You angle your body towards him, taking his face in your hands before moving forward to plant your lips against his. He immediately returns the kiss in a slightly more fervent manner, pushing you to fall back against the pillows as he cages you in with his arms. 

Despite the unexpected escalation of what began as an innocent conversation, Harry begins kissing you slowly, his tongue laving over your bottom lip and into your mouth. You allow his body to move between your legs as he kisses you, your hands holding desperately onto the nape of his neck and curve of his jaw.

“Wanna show you,” He mutters between hot, wet kisses. “Can I do that?” His face hovers over yours for a moment, waiting for you to say something. 

“Yeah- yes, please.” You breathe, reaching up to place your hand on the back of his neck and pull his lips back into yours. 

Immediately, Harry’s fingers curl into the waistband of your shorts, helping you tug them down your bare legs and toss them to the side before he lets his hands glide down your legs from your thighs to your calves, reveling in the softness of your skin. He pulls his lips away from yours, staring down into your eyes as his hand falls between your legs, fingers slowly finding your clit over your warm, damp panties. 

You hadn’t planned any of this so, of course, so your panties are nothing special, but when Harry lets his head fall down to look at where his fingers meet your sex, a shaky sigh leaves his pink lips. It sounds as if he’s in pain just from the sight of you and he hasn’t even taken your panties off yet. 

His lips fall to your neck, pressing hot, wet kisses along each side before trailing down the front of your hoodie clad chest. Once he reaches your lower region, his arms hook beneath your legs, slinging them over his shoulders as he moves to lie on his stomach between them. His hot breath washes over your clothed cunt, causing your legs to quiver around his shoulders at the sensitivity and you suck in a breath to hold back a gasp. 

He starts slowly as he peels the soft cotton of your panties from your skin, dragging them ever so slowly down your legs before nudging them aside on the bed. You’re finding it increasingly difficult not to squirm beneath his scorching gaze, but with his arms locked tight around your thighs, your movements are clearly limited. 

Harry begins to press gentle, open-mouthed kisses to the supple skin of your inner thighs, nipping lightly between each kiss. Much to your dismay, he pulls away, his knees still planted on the mattress between your legs as he scoops his luscious hair into his hands and pulls it back into a quick, messy bun. You lie there watching him, chest heaving with your labored breaths and he smirks. 

“Haven’t even started and you’re already out of breath,” he drops back down to hover over your body and you're left to cover your face with your hands in embarrassment, feeling the heat radiating from your skin to your palms. His long fingers circle your wrists, gently tugging your hands away from your face so that he can plant another firm kiss to your lips. "You sure you wanna keep going?"

He stares down at you with a cautious and gentle look in his eyes as he waits for you to respond. His need for consent is comforting and you can tell he really cares. "I'm positive. Please, keep going."

Content with your response, Harry smiles, pecking your lips one last time before crawling back down your body and slinging your legs back over his shoulders just like they were just moments ago. Since he'd removed your panties, there's no barrier between his lips and your glistening sex, his warm breath washing over your sensitive skin and causing your thighs to quiver ever so slightly. 

"Ready?" He asks quietly, virescent eyes meeting yours through thick, brown lashes. 

His purposeful prolonging has caused you to grow a little impatient, so you huff a frustrated "please," to him in hopes of speeding up the process. He chuckles a little, but finally brings his mouth to your hot skin, tongue peaking out from between his lips to slowly drag against your clit. A shaky breath escapes your lips at the initial contact, and then he presses forward, wrapping his pink, swollen lips around your sensitive button, sucking gently and it causes a much louder moan to tumble from your mouth. Your hand falls to his head, fingers pushing into the hair that was once pulled tight against his head by the messy bun. He lifts his head slightly at the sound of your moan, bringing a finger to his glistening lips as he gazes up at you, mischievous glint behind his eyes. 

"Sorry, sorry." You whisper breathlessly and he shakes his head, shoulders shaking with his slight laughter. 

His mouth finally returns to your lips, eyes trained to yours to ensure that you don't make any more loud noises before he delves back in, fully devoting himself to your pleasure. Your lip slips between your teeth in a feeble attempt to contain the breathless whimpers and moans itching to spill from your mouth and your hand continues to press into his hair. The pleasure you feel from just his lips and tongue is undeniably amazing. It's obvious the man doesn't shy away when it comes to foreplay and that only eggs on your aroused state. 

Languid strokes of Harry's tongue gradually turn into quick, firm flicks that cause your thighs to quiver with pleasure as you clamp your own hand over your mouth to muffle your involuntary noises. He hums against you purposefully so that the vibrations double the work of his tongue and lips into a delicious harmony of blissful ecstasy and your back arches from the sweat-damp sheets beneath you. Your skin is clammy and hot from the heat being emitted from your body, yet the uncomfortable, tacky feeling of it is the last thing on your mind. His mouth is a drug and you're an addict, beseeching for the next dose. 

Muffled moans and the sound of his swollen lips colliding with your dripping folds fills the small bedroom and it only makes Harry move faster, desperate to have your release glistening against his chin and upper lip as he gazes down at your heaving body. He wants you to fall apart; he craves to watch you find that burning release within the pit of your stomach and melt into the sheets from the pleasure of it. If only you knew how many times he dreamt of having you in this exact position, nearly sobbing from the work of his skilled mouth. 

"Thought about this so many times-" he pulls away, allowing his thumb to take the place of his lips and rub gentle circles against your throbbing clit. "Taste better than I could've ever imagined. Just wish I could really hear you." 

His drawled words and the lack of warmth directly against your cunt draws you to look down at him breathlessly, unable to muster a response to his confession. He chuckles at that, not expecting a response before he returns to the task at hand. By now, you're teetering over the edge, aimlessly grasping for a pillow to press over your face in an attempt to silence the growing sounds that emit from the back of your throat. Finally, you find yourself toppling over the notorious edge, the pillow that's pressed firmly against your face throughout the entirety of your orgasm doing its job in muffling your noises.

Harry watches you pulse and shiver helplessly for just a few moments before his hands are pulling the pillow from your face and tossing it above your head so that he can kiss you again. His lips and tongue taste of you as he explores the depths of your mouth and your heart continues to pound against your chest with your labored breaths. 

He pulls away from your face after a moment, smiling as he tilts his head to the side. "How was that?"

"That was-" a puff of air leaves your lips, "that was good."

"Just good?" He frowns, pecking his lips down the column of your neck. 

“I- fuck, Harry I don’t even know what to say, it was amazing.” You laugh breathlessly, tucking your fingers into his hair. 

“Amazing, hm?” He smirks. “Would you say it was five out of five stars?” 

A broken laugh leaves your lips again. “Yeah, I’d say it was five out of five.” Heat thunders across your face as you breathe another flustered giggle and he chuckles along with you, leaning forward to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck. He presses a few soft, wet kisses to your skin and exhales, his warm breath causing goosebumps to bloom there. His ego has inflated quite a bit from your confession, but that doesn't hinder his desires to make you as comfortable and satisfied as possible.

“Do you need some water, or maybe a snack?” 

You push yourself up onto your arms, frowning at him. “What about you?” It’s almost unbelievable to you that after he worked so tirelessly to make you come, his first thought is to ask you if you need anything more, as if he hasn’t already done enough for you.

He rolls over onto his back beside you, staring up at you. “What about me?”

You briefly glance down his body, noticing the visible tent in his sweatpants. “Can I do something for you?”

“If you want to,” he shrugs, trying in vain not to show his agony. He’s obviously uncomfortable. “But I don’t want to make you feel like you have to do anything.”

You nearly roll your eyes at his unwavering chivalry, wordlessly lifting yourself up and slinging your leg over his hips to straddle him. “I want to.”

At that, Harry lifts himself up off of the bed and wraps an arm around your waist to press you into him, that small bit of friction alone causing a low whimper to slip past your lips. His mouth finds yours, fervently pulling kisses from your lips as he guides your hips against his own. You’ve imagined this scenario so many times, yet the feeling of your own fingers frantically coaxing you to release is nothing compared to the feeling of Harry’s warm body beneath you. 

Even through the fabric of his sweatpants, you can feel how thick he is and it only makes you want to move faster. His lips have attached themselves to the spot between your jaw and neck, skillfully biting and sucking at the skin as your hips gyrate against his. You can already feel the burning sensation growing between your legs due to how sensitive you are from your previous orgasm, and Harry seems to be reaching his own climax as well. He’s clawing at your hips and ass, desperate to have you as close to him as possible as low grunts fall from his lips.

It doesn’t take long for you to find your release, choking out Harry’s name as your fingers tug and yank at his now lopsided bun. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, continuously swiveling your hips against his as he chases his own impending orgasm.

“Shit!” He groans a little too loudly as he comes, but you’re quick to shush him, slapping your palm over his mouth while your hips work him through his climax. Your thighs are burning and beads of sweat break out along every inch of your skin, but the satisfaction of knowing you’re working him down to his very last drop is enough to keep you going until neither you, nor him can take it anymore. 

Once you finally fall limp against his body, he musters enough strength to roll you onto your back, pressing a few chaste kisses along your jawline. 

“Was it five out of five?” You breathe, keeping your eyes shut as you lean your head back against the pillow. 

“Hm?” He hums, pressing another kiss to your lips.

“Would you rate my skills five out of five?”

“Oh, definitely.” He chuckles breathlessly. 

feedback is always welcome and don’t forget to reblog!!

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[aficwhore]

Truth Is (Chapter 2)

Chapter 2: In the Moonlight

Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!reader

Summary: After Benny’s fight, Chipmunk and Frankie bicker and have a heated argument, leading to something unexpected. When the moment passes the gang goes back to ‘Chip’s’ place to prepare for Colombia in the morning. Fish and ‘Chip’ reunite in the moonlight, but not for long. 

Word count: 4.9K

Warnings: explicit language, blood, violence, guns/weapons, lots of angst and emotions, infidelity, smut, sexual innuendos, drinking, mentions of drugs, talk of death, and talk of mental health(PTSD and depression).

A/N: I was so excited to start this new part, I had no exact plan on how I want it to go, but I went with what I was feeling in the moment. On a Side note THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 100 FOLLOWERS, you all are so special to me <3.

“And the winner is!” The announcer yelled, his voice echoing through the arena, pausing just enough to make us anxious, “Ben Miller!” He then raised the hand which held Benny’s arm, to showcase the successor.

In seconds you could hear Will, “Yeah! That’s my baby brother!” followed by proud roars, ours being the loudest in the crowd. I jumped from my seat and started jumping up and down. Too distracted by my glee, I didn’t notice Frankie had stood up from next to me. Once I saw him from the corner of my eye, he picked me up, jumping with me pressed to him, Santi and Tom cheering and playfully slapping each other and Will. 

Though the whole room was bursting with noise and people, when I made eye contact with Francisco, it felt like the whole world stopped. As if we were the only ones here. His smile slowly dropped into a face conflicted with lust and other emotions, I guess mine did the same. He slowly released me, placing me back on my feet, his eyes still bore into mine. 

After a few seconds, his eyes flickered down to my lips. He leaned closer to me, attempting to bring his lips to mine. Feeling my heart stop when his lips lightly brushed mine, I quickly pull away, before our lips could fully meet. Clearing my throat, “We should hurry up and congratulate Benny, then we can all go rest at my house.” 

Fish’s expression read nothing but confusion and sadness. “I-uh, yeah sure.” I swiftly turned to find the boys, but they had already started to make their way through the crowd and back to the locker room. 

My body began to buzz with emotions, not knowing how to feel in this moment. I didn't quite understand why I pulled away, I wanted nothing more than to kiss him, but something didn’t feel right. The timing maybe, or even just the setting, or maybe the fact that I haven’t had closure from that one night many months ago. 

Trying to snap out of my thoughts, I walked a little faster to catch up, hopefully leaving Frankie behind so I could shake this feeling. As I swiftly made it back into the locker room I saw the rest of them surrounding Benny on the bench and making jokes, while Will held a towel to his face, collecting the blood dripping from his split eyebrow.

“Chippy!” the younger Miller exclaimed when his eyes made contact with mine. “Sad to see I didn’t lose?” he questioned with a smirk playing on his lips. 

Shaking my head and laughing, I glided over to him, taking over for Will, and pulling the towel away, examining the cut. “You may have won, but this sure does look nasty Benny Boy.” I light heartedly explained.

“Then it’s a good thing you’re here to patch me up.” He chuckled, a small pleading look in his eyes.

I quickly turned to Will “If I’m gonna fix this, I’m gonna need a first aid kit.” All he did was nod before trailing off the grab one. 

Before I could realize Frankie was in the room with us I heard, “You did great out there kid.” He gave him a nod of approval. “Honestly was surprised, the other guy was a lot bigger than you, which I didn’t think was possible.” 

Benny burst into laughter, Frankie, Santi, and Tom joining in as Will came back and handed me the kit. “Alright boys, I think we should give Mr. BigShot here, a break.” I suggested, opening the kit and pulling out some alcohol pads, gauze, and some bandaids. They all nodded and filed out the back door into the parking lot.

As I began to dab at Benny’s eyebrow, he flinched. “So, you gonna finally tell Fish about everything? You know, since now you guys are kinda talking again?”

“Ben...No, I can’t. You know that. Only you and your brother know.” I explained, attempting to use butterfly tape to seal the cut closed. Carefully, I secured the tape with a bandaid over it, making sure to be gentle as Benny sat perfectly still in front of me, staring at me.

“Fish would be understanding, maybe even regretful with how he acted. If you just told him, he would realize how dumb everything was!” The kid chirped in a hopeful tone.

With a frustrated sigh, I spoke. “No Benny, I don’t think it’s worth it, because I’m not over how he handled it all.” I turned away from him, picking up the trash from the first aid kit.

He tried to convince me again, reaching up for my shoulder. “But you won't even give it a chance, what if-” 

“No! I already said no! Leave it alone! If I want to, then I will do it when I want to!” I shouted, letting my anger out. I yanked out of his grip, causing a sad look to appear on his slightly tattered face. He stayed silent, making me feel quite bad for raising my voice. “Look hun, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. Just so many emotions were awoken today. You can’t blame me.”

He quietly shook his head and stood up. Towering over me, he stepped towards me and wrapped his big and long arms around me, securing me in a well-needed hug. “I’m sorry, I pushed it, I shouldn’t have. I get it, you need time to process and heal. Don’t apologize, I love you Chip.” 

“I love you too B.” I hugged him back for a brief moment. “But please, for the love of all things holy, go take a shower.” I tilted back smiling up at him, reaching up and pinching my nose shut to make fun of him.

“That’s rude.” He scoffed with a smile on his lips. “I’ll see you tonight at your’s, right?” He asked as he gathered his things, heading off to the showers.

I nodded, waving and spinning around to leave out the back. When I walked through the door, I was greeted with Frankie. He was leaning against the wall next to the door. I glanced around, in hopes to find the others, but they all had vanished.

“Hey, I wanted to talk to you.” He spoke, pushing himself off the wall and towards me. I nonchalantly crossed my arms, still looking around.

“What about the others?” I inquired, wanting to avoid this conversation.

“They left, I told them I would drive you home and meet them there after they grab everything.” He revealed, taking in an encouraging breath. “But I wanted to talk to you about something, about us. To be exact.” He paused, stretching his hand out, behind his neck. As he began to sheepishly rub the back of his neck, he continued. “Look, I know things happened very badly, and I could’ve listened. And if I did, maybe we would- I don’t know, maybe we would still be together. But if you just told me the truth-”

“Excuse me? I know you are not trying to apologize and then still say its my fault I didn’t tell you everything?” I interrupted angrily. 

His body tensed, I could physically see the anger arising in him. “Would you just shut up and let me talk?” He spat, making me slightly jump in my skin. “This is another reason why things happened the way they did, you don’t know when to stop and be quiet.”

“You know what, fuck you.” I reacted, “Want to know what I was keeping from you? Want to finally know the goddamned truth? Well Dr. Philips is my fucking therapist.” His face contorted with confusion. “I was getting help, because I was getting worse again. The nightmares came back, and so did the depression, but I was too ashamed of telling anyone. So Fuck off Frankie.” 

Twisting around, I began to make my way out to the street. “Nena (babygirl), damn it, please, I’m sorry. I-I didn’t know.” He pleaded from behind me. 

Completely ignoring him, I kept walking in the direction of my apartment, even though it was blocks, maybe even miles away. When I heard his footsteps get closer, I sped up, trying to lose him once again. Then finally, it was quiet, except the sound of my own feet on the sidewalk and the bustle of the city.

After walking for a few more minutes, my anger calmed, until I heard a car pull up and drive slowly next to me. 

“Por favor (please), get in the car.” Francisco’s voice came from the window of the car. I acted as if I didn’t hear anyone and kept walking, facing straight ahead. “Stop being stubborn and get in! You can’t walk all the way home, it’s going to get dark!”

I rolled my eyes, still ignoring him. Then I no longer could hear the car, which piqued my curiosity, had he really given up that easily? I slowed my pace and as I turned my head to glance behind me, I was lifted into the air. “Hey! Put me down! Help! Help!” I screamed.

“Would you cut it out!” Frankie shouted, struggling to hold on to me as I swung and flailed in his arms. 

“I’m being kidnapped! Someone help!” I kept yelling. “Save me-” My voice being muted as he clamped a firm hand over my mouth, continuing to drag me into his car. As he was forcing me to sit in the passenger side, he yelped. “I know you did not just bite me!”

I huffed, “Well if you weren't trying to abduct me, I wouldn't have to!” His hand reached over me to buckle the seat belt around me, I leaned forward, attempting to bite him again. 

“What are you?! A fucking piranha?!” He screeched, yanking back.

Though he pulled back, his face was still inches away from mine. Our eyes met again. Our feud seemed to melt away with each passing second that his eyes bore into mine. I no longer wanted to put up a fight. Every inch of me ached for me to forgive him and make up, but I couldn’t. No matter how badly I wished to, I knew that our split wasn’t my fault, nor his, but its both of our faults for being so stubborn. 

“Baby,” He spoke softly, pulling me back to reality. His gorgeous brown eyes still locked on mine. His lips lay slightly open, fanning his breath across my face. His breath smelled like mint, it mixed with his scent. He always smelled woodsy, like pine and bergamot. I had missed his intoxicating smell for so long, that I wanted to revel in it, even just for a few seconds. 

I reached out my hand, letting it carefully caress his cheek, his stubble rough against my palm. He didn’t move, he stayed just a hand’s length away, allowing me to sweep my fingers along his cheek, down his neck, and to the collar of the shirt he wore. I gripped the ring of fabric and tugged him forward, crashing his pillowy lips against mine. 

It wasn’t a sweet kiss, it was a needy, rough kiss. Our teeth clashed as our lips parted, inviting each other in. Our tongues swept across each other as one of his hands tangled into my hair and the other gripping my jaw, coaxing me to open up more for him.

It felt like sweet relief, longing and pining had been all forgotten. The man I missed so much, was right in front of me, touching me, kissing me, which I dreamed of for nights on end. 

When I let go of his shirt and began to trail my hand lower, Frankie released my jaw and stopped my hand. He broke the kiss, offering a light chuckle when I whined at the loss of contact. 

“You have no idea how much I missed that. How much I missed you. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t respect your boundaries and that you weren’t ready to tell me.” He whispered with worry, placing his forehead on mine, rubbing his nose against my nose. I closed my eyes taking in the feeling. He laced his fingers with mine, with the hand that still held it to his chest. 

“I know Francisco, I’m sorry too. I should’ve told you, I could've still had you all these past months if I just got over myself and came clean.” I choked out, trying to keep calm.

He squeezed my hand, “Its okay, it’s over now. Please tell me its over.” It sounded like he was close to crying.

I nodded quickly, not wanting to speak, because if I did, I know my voice would crack with emotion. 

He remained crouched halfway into the passenger side, forehead to forehead with me. “Amor (love), they're going to make it to my house before I do.” I giggled, regretting my words moments later when we split. He nodded with a smile, stepped back and shut my door. He hurried around and got back in, starting the engine and making his way to my apartment. 

During the drive he reached over, taking my hand in his, and glancing over every once in a while to make sure I was okay. 

We sat in comfortable silence, until he spoke up. “I still have to run by my place and grab my things, do you mind if we stop on the way?” 

“Not at all.” I responded, bringing up our joined hands, to kiss the back of his. 

We rushed to his place, I stayed in the car as he ran in and gathered what he needed. It all seemed a blur, the euphoria from the event minutes before clouding my brain. 

When we made it back to my place it was dark and everyone was already inside, I guess one of the Miller’s used their spare key to get in. I helped Frankie grab his bags and head inside with them. As we walked through the door, the rest of the team was huddled on my couch, scarfing down pizza which I assume Benny bought. They glanced up and waved quickly before going back to eating and watching whatever they were playing on the TV. I set Fish’s stuff down with the other’s and walked further into the living room to find that the boys had laid out their blankets and pillows for the night already. 

I sat on the floor in front of the boys and grabbed a slice of pizza while Frankie set up his own area to sleep. When he finished, he strolled over and sat next to me. 

For the rest of the movie they guys were watching, we ate and chatted until we got tired and were ready for bed. I made sure to pick up the mess we made and helped the boys get comfy. When they were all laid down and falling fast asleep like children, I smiled to myself as I turned off the lights and headed to my room to turn in for the night. 

I tiptoed quietly, careful not to wake them as I walked to the laundry room and changed into my sleep clothes. Right as I made it back to my room, a hand reached out and covered my mouth to muffle the startled scream I was about to let out. 

“Its me, its just me.” Frankie’s voice contrasted with the silence of the room. I relaxed, turning around to face him. It was dark but I could still see some of his features with the help of the moonlight coming through the windows. 

His eyes crinkled with a smile, his teeth shining brightly. I couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss him. This kiss was loving and gentle. His lips moved against mine as I let my arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer. Feeling him flush against me, made my skin become hot with want and need. 

He seemed to notice because he deepened the kiss, pushing me further into my room and shutting the door behind us. In seconds he spun us around and pressed me against the wall. He tilted his head back to look at me, not daring to move, except his arm.

His cool hand trailed up my thigh, dragging my sleepshirt with it. His fingers leave goosebumps in their wake. The material bunching on my hip, revealing the shorts I had on. I felt breathless from his touch as his index finger dipped into the waistband, lightly tugging on it. “Please tell me you need this as much as I do cariño.” He pauses with his nose nudging the side of my jaw, waiting for a response.

“Yes, pl-please, just touch me Frankie.” I stuttered, feeling my heart beat harder for him. In an instant, he drug the shorts down my legs, following them, and kissing the skin they surpassed. Once they were off and tossed away, he began his journey back up, but stopping at my stomach. I gasped as he kissed and licked at the hem of my panties, tasting the fabric and soft tummy underneath.

Through his eyelashes, he looked up and met my admiring gaze. My skin burned with desire, as if his touch was the only cure.

With little effort he wrapped one of his hands around my calf, pulling it up, and placing it over his shoulder, causing me to push my weight against the wall behind me. A small smirk finds its way to his face as he moves my panties to the side. Feeling vulnerable and exposed, I carded my hand through his hair, silently begging him to touch me.

“Paciencia mi amor (Patience my love).” his breath ghosted over my wet core, making me whimper with need. And at that moment he dipped down, placing a sloppy kiss where I wanted him most.

He placed another open mouth kiss on my mound, letting his tongue peak out and part me. My breath hitched when I felt his warm tongue flick at my aching clit. He did it again, causing me to buck my hips, asking for more friction. As he continued, slowly beginning to roll and suck on the bundle of nerves, he ran his hands up the back of my thighs, gripping my ass and pulling more of my weight onto his shoulders. 

He sucked harder, bringing a hand forward, and dipping his fingers into my wetness. “Fuck, I missed your sweet taste.” He murmured from between my legs, scissoring me open with his fingers. A moan escaped my lips, not loud, but enough to spur Frankie on. He started to go faster, working me closer and closer to the edge. His hot breath encompassing my wet heat when he would open his mouth to lick a broad stripe up my slit.

Losing focus on all things other than the man situated at my cunt, I could feel him swiping his tongue across my lips, as if he was spelling something. His movements were too intricate for me to understand, if he was spelling. 

I could feel a mix of my arousal and his spit start to drip down my thigh, sending a shiver up my spine. He broke away from my wetness, and chased the leaking fluid, catching it with his tongue, licking and sucking up the trail slowly, teasing me, making me wait longer for a release. 

My head started to spin with lust, nothing but quiet whimpers and his name leaving my mouth. “Please, stop teasing m-” I was cut off by him curling his fingers and speeding up. He placed his mouth back on me, determined to make me finish. I tugged his hair on accident, the pleasure surging through my body.

He moaned into me from my actions, vibrations radiating through me, allowing the coil in my stomach to tighten quickly. “Yes, don’t stop,” I moaned, trying to keep my voice low. Even though my body burned for me to scream in ecstasy, there were four other men in my living room asleep.

He curled his fingers again, hitting my g-spot. A loud moan eludes me, I quickly bring my hand, free of his hair, up to my lips, biting the skin on the back, in hopes of muffling my noises.

Just as I thought I had it under control, the coil tightened to its max, and snapped. I felt my legs rush with heat and wetness. MY legs threatened to give out as Frankie kept going, prolonging the white, hot, orgasm ripping through me. He gripped my ass again, holding me up, he could feel my legs tremble around him. 

Feeling a little too sensitive I slightly jerked away, slowing coming down from cloud nine. He took this as a sign to stop, he pulled back, placed a gentle kiss to my lips for the last time. He peered up at me, watching my relaxed face come back to reality, and stroking my thighs. 

As my breathing calmed, I looked down, finding my handsome Frankie, staring at me with adoration in his eyes and a smile on his face. I picked my leg off his shoulder, leaned over and grabbed his face in my hands, tugging him up to meet me, embracing him in a passionate and strong kiss. 

I could taste myself on his lips, his face wet with my slick, letting our lips glide smoothly against each other. He placed his hands back on my ass, walking back towards the bed, and me still pressed to him.

His knees backed into the edge of the frame, but he still stood tall. I broke the kiss, a seductive smile on my lips. I grabbed the hem of my shirt, pulling it up and over my head, showing my bare chest to him. I tossed the shirt away and stepped out of my soaked panties, kicking them into the abyss of the dark room.

Frankie watched me intently, never taking his eyes off my frame. I came close to him, my fingers playing with this shirt. In seconds he tore off his shirt and began to yank his shorts and underwear down. Once they pooled at his feet, I leaned into him, kissing his jaw, nipping at the skin while my hand found his naked member, hard and leaking. His breath caught in his throat when I lightly stroked him. 

“I’m not go-going to last long baby, its been too long.” He choked out, struggling to keep his cool. I nodded, placing one last kiss to his neck. I stepped next to him, to get on the bed. I got on my knees, looking back to make sure he was watching me. As we made eye contact, I slowly bent forward, stretching my arms out straight in front of me. I guided my chest down and into the mattress, leaving my ass in the air and on display for him. 

I relaxed my face into the covers, feeling him touching my thighs and ass, lightly pinching the skin as he traveled up the skin. 

“Mierda (shit), all for me?” he questioned with a playful slap to my right cheek, luring a soft moan from me.

“Yes, all for you Frankie, always.” I responded, shaking my ass, hoping he would fuck me soon. The bed dipped behind my knees as he joined me. Thats when I felt his hard cock pressed to my cunt. He tapped himself on my clit, causing me to surge forward at the contact. 

He chuckled, “Are you sure princesa?” as he ran his head through my folds, eliciting a moan from me.

“Yes, Jesus Frankie, just fuck me already.” I growled frustratedly.

At my command, he lined himself up at my entrance and pushed into me. The stretch was borderline painful, it had been months since I'd taken him, and he was already bigger than all my exes.

Once he bottomed out, he gripped my hip and snaked his free arm around me, pulling me up and flush against his chest. He began to kiss and suck my neck, slowly rocking into me. His hand stayed at the base of my neck, splayed across my collarbones, pressing me into him. 

“Faster,” I whined, feeling him move quicker and more deliberately. His breath tickled my ear as he groaned, feeling me tightly wrapped around him.

As his pace quickened, I reached a hand behind me and braced it on his upper thigh, attempting to meet his hips. With a particularly aimed thrust, I moaned fairly loud, being consumed by the pleasure.

“Shh,” He spoke between grunts, “Unless you want the boys to know that I'm balls deep in you, filling you up with my cock.” He gave a hard thrust, never losing his pace. My free hand slapped my mouth, covering my cries.

Our hips sped up, meeting more passionately, with more meaning. With every thrust, all problems between us seemed to dissipate. I no longer cared about all things before tonight. All that mattered was him, us, and this moment. Being connected to him again never felt so good.

All that could be heard in the silence was the snap of his hips against mine, the small noises we let escape us, and the quiet creak of the bed below us. The moonlight illuminated our entangled bodies, the sweat gleaming in the night. 

The coil in my stomach tightening again, the waves of pleasure threatening to spill over the edge. Frankie had to be getting close, his thrusts became more erratic. He reached his hand from hip, down to my clit, rubbing in tight circles, trying to bring me to the brink with him.

“Fuck you're so tight, w-where do you-” He questioned until I cut him off.

“Cum in me baby.” I moaned, feeling my orgasm take over, the waves of bliss crashing down, taking me with it. Whiteness blinded my vision as my body convulsed against his chest. 

He thrusted a few more times before he let out a broken grunt, pumping his load into me, mixing our hot releases together, letting them seep out and down our legs. 

I turned my head to the side, reaching back and grabbing the back of Frankie’s head, pulling him into a kiss as we calmed down. The smell of sex filling our senses. He slowly pulled out causing me to whine at the loss of him. 

When we finally recovered, he got off the bed, taking me with him to the bathroom. He sat me on the sink, opened the cabinet underneath and grabbed a cloth, coming back up to wet it. Then he gently spread my thighs apart, cleaning up the remnants of the act. He then cleaned himself.

“You should go to the bathroom while I grab our pajamas.” He spoke softly, pressing a kiss to my lips and turned to scavenge for our clothes we had lost in the dark corners of my room. 

I hopped off the counter and sat on the toilet. I went to the bathroom, but began to feel exhausted. My eyelids felt heavy, drooping over my eyes.

Frankie came back in, only dressed in his boxers, my clothes in his hand. “I know love, let’s get you dressed so we can sleep.” He whispered, helping me up and helped me get dressed. His face had an unreadable expression, what could he be thinking? All was forgotten when he picked me up bridal style and led us to my bed, he pulled the covers back and laid me down, tucking me in. 

He wondered around the bed and got in behind me. He pulled me to his chest as sleep began to drag me under. His arm laid across my body and his hand splayed across my chest, feeling my heartbeat. Thats all I could process as I fell more deeply into slumber.

It may have been a dream but I felt him lean over, kiss my temple and whisper “I’m sorry for everything.” And everything went peacefully dark.

I couldn't tell how long I was asleep until someone began to shake me. “Chip, get up, it’s time to leave.” I groaned, not wanting to get out of the comfort of my bed and the comfort of Frankie next to me, or so I thought. 

My eyes snapped open to find Ben crouched next to the bed, face to face with me. I jolted up with surprise, quickly looking around to find Frankie, only to be disappointed. 

“Woah woah! Calm down, it’s Benny.” The man child looked frightened. 

I sighed, maybe it was a good thing Fish wasn’t in here, it could make a lot of questions amongst the team arise. But when did he leave? 

“Oh sorry Ben, I-I was sleeping too hard,” I lied. 

“It seems so,” he chuckled “Breakfast is ready, everyone is up and ready.” He explained. I nodded and he left, allowing me privacy to change. I quickly threw on my cargo pants and shirt, rushing to grab my packed bags. I brushed my teeth and hair in a hurry. I headed straight past everyone in the kitchen, out the door to throw my things in the truck.

When I came back in, everyone was staring at me. But I only made eye contact with one of them, Frankie. And the look on his face pained me, his expression was full of regret.

TAGLIST

@tanyaherondale​

@winter-fox-queen​

@supernaturalgirl​

@actual-spawn-of-satan​

@hnt-escape

@toomanystoriessolittletime​

*if your user has a strike through, it wouldn’t let me tag you*

[noaltbruh]

Bucci gang comforting a reader having a panic attack

GIORNO:

-Giorno probably had one or two panic attacks himself when he was very young, his parents' constant neglect didn't exactly have a good influence on his mental health

-Because of that, Giorno is surprisingly calm during the whole thing, like he knows exactly what to do, and low-key, he does

-he'd hold your hands tight and look at you right in the eyes, saying that whatever is bothering you, the two of you can figure it out together later

-"Breath in, breath out. I'm not going anywhere, Y/n, I'm here for you"

-his tone of voice makes you feel safe, you know you can trust him to help you in this situation.

-he would even let you play with his hair, if it makes you feel better. Touching his soft, blonde curls gives you a strange sense of peace

-it doesn't take long for you to calm down, and you're once again left to wonder how Giorno seems so perfect in everything he does

BUCCIARATI:

-while Bucciarati has never experienced a panic attack personally, he knows quite a lot about the subject

-at first, he would be more distressed than Giorno, but it doesn't take long for him to catch up and look for a way to help you feel better

-He'd cook your favorite comfort food, hoping to distract you a little from whatever caused you to feel this way

-He'd want you to stay by his side the whole time, obviously. He'd never leave you alone in such a delicate state

-after the first time, he would always keep some chocolate bars for emergency, in case something like that were to happen again

-However, now he would be twice as careful to make sure not to put you in any situation that may cause a similar reaction in you

MISTA:

-Let's be honest: Mista is a really chill dude, there's no way he has ever had a panic attack

-he doesn't know almost anything about it, and the first time it happened to you, he thought you would have just stopped after a minute or two

-but when he realized you had no intention to stop, his expression immediately turned into one of concern, he almost looked more scared than you

-he isn't as good as Bruno or Giorno when it comes to comforting someone, but he'd still try to help you, he would even try to make you laugh, hoping you would have stopped crying

-"W-wanna hear a joke?" 'Mista, what the hell are you doing? Does it look like the time to joke around? Think about something, you idiot!'

-Needless to say, the pistols were going crazy too, they all have you little kisses hoping to cheer you up a little. Number 5 even started crying, he was so worried for you

-Eventually, somehow, you calmed down; Mista doesn't know how he managed to survive through all this himself

-But he learned his lesson, and made sure to consult A LOT of articles online to be prepared in case there was a second time

NARANCIA:

-Narancia's situation is...kind of weird, to say the last

-he's probably experienced a panic attack AT LEAST 3 times before joining the gang, but he wouldn't really know that's an actual thing

-when he saw you curled up on yourself, breathing heavily and with tears in your eyes, Narancia genuinely thought you were going to die

-he tried to call an ambulance for you, but you stopped him an ad managed to tell him among your sobs that you didn't need it

-he tried to ask you what to do to help, but he soon realized that he had to figure this out on his own

-he took all the snacks he could find in the kitchen and wrapped you in a blanked, hoping to calm you down even a little

-"See Y/n, n-no reason to be scared! I-I'm here, it's okay!"

-desperate, Narancia held you tight to himself, if this didn't work, he would have probably started crying too

-but, thank Goodness, your breathing started to go back to be more regular and eventually you stopped shivering

-you immediately explained to Narancia what a panic attack was, of course. You don't want to make best boy worry even more about you, do you?

FUGO:

-Due to all the pressure everyone put on Fugo during his childhood, it's safe to assume that he isn't new to the subject

-However, he doesn't exactly have a good way to handle the problem, to the point where he would just wait for it to pass naturally, acting like it was nothing serious

-but that wasn't something he was allowed to do when he realized you were going through the same exact thing as him

-even though he perfectly knows what's happening, he's just as clueless as Narancia when it comes to help you feel better

-he's too scared to even touch you, he thinks he's going to make you feel worse if he doesn't take 200 precautions

-he'd try with a simple "it's okay", but, of course, it didn't work

-like the situation wasn't bad enough, the amount of stress Fugo was feeling in that moment made him lose control over his stand, causing it to materialize into the room next to the boy

-ironically, Purple Haze was the one that saved the situation, disobeying his master's orders and hugging you tight from behind

-you didn't care if the virus could have potentially killed you if one of the stand's little spheres were to break, all you needed was some comfort, and that's what Purple haze was giving you

-Just like Mista, Fugo also searched for... ahem, more 'healthy ways' to handle the problem, relying on his Stand all the time probably wasn't the best option

ABBACCHIO:

-being the least "touchy-feeling" one out of the entire gang, he would probably just think that the concept of "panic attack" is simply stupid, even though I'm 100% sure he's had at least one in his life

-when it happened for the first time, Abbacchio almost tried to shrug it off like it was nothing serious, saying that you have no reason to be "that scared"

-but then...5, 10, heck, even 15 minutes later you were still there, drowning your head between your knees, shaking like a leaf in autumn

-That's when he finally understood that he couldn't keep on being a d**k about it and it was time to do something useful

-"O-oi...what the hell, Y/N? What's gotten into you all of a sudden?"

-he'd awkwardly try to pet you on the head, he genuinely has no idea of what is going on right now

-in the end, he just waits until the worst part ends and you're able to speak again

-well, that's definitely something the two of you will have to work on...

TRISH:

-Trish probably has never had a real panic attack, but she was extremely worried when she was about to meet with Diavolo in Venezia

-in the moment she realizes what's happening to you, she immediately calls out Spice Girl, hoping she would help her trying to think about something to resolve the situation

-there isn't really much she can do though, she's still a stand, a reflection of the user's soul, and if Trish has no idea what to do (especially since this doesn't involve fighting), Spice Girl is just as clueless

-she'd offer to cuddle with you a little, hoping that physical contact will make you feel better

-she doesn't get an answer, but it's still worth a shot, right?

-it...doesn't work out perfectly, but it obviously helped you feel better, even a little; you even managed to call out your own stand, so that Spice girl could participate too

-around half an hour later, it all went back to normal, and Trish promised to learn more about the subject to be more prepared for the next time

Yes, I know I could potentially write headcanons about characters from all the parts, but I just love the Bucci gang so much eheh.

Also, I have a wattpad profile where I'm currently writing my own Giorno x reader fanfic, I'd really appreciate it if you could check it out :)

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Light Disorientation

Azula Week Day 2: Azula Rare Pairs

Summary: Sometimes things distort in her mind. Sometimes she confuses the past with the present. Sometimes when she does, she is ugly in her mind.

Warnings: Mental Health Issues & Body Image Issues

Azula is not comfortable in her skin, more often than not it absolutely crawls. It helps very little that she is surrounded by such beautiful people. Katara with her mesmerizingly bright blue eyes and her deep complexion, Toph and her confident and charming smile, Suki and her toned arms and soft skin, Mai and her tall and elegantly willowy figure and TyLee with her...well, everything. Sokka has his muscular arms and a new collection of traditional Water Tribe tattoos. She doesn’t see Zuko’s appeal in the slightest but he has a vast crowd of giggling admirers. And while Aang isn’t exactly a looker, he’s got his heroics and his lovable mannerisms.

Perhaps, just a few years ago, in her prime, she had been something to look at and envy. But now...now she doesn’t want to look at herself even in passing. Her eyes have a bruised appearance, they are nowhere near as vivid as they had been. Her tangled locks aren’t so silky nor shiny. Her skin is drier somehow. In general, she thinks that she is muted, duller. She is hollow, her robes have a tendency to slide down her shoulders, more so than usual. And, unlike Aang, she doesn’t have a personality to make up for it. She isn’t approachable and endearing, her talents are terrifying. She has her itelligence but that never seems to matter anymore especially on the days when the clutter in her mind is too heavy for deep and critical thinking.  

She doesn’t like going on outings with the rest of them, no matter how well and forgivingly they treat her. She looks sloppy without the side by side comparison. With it...she cringes. Tonight she has subjected herself to the tortures of inferiority. TyLee had been so cheerful about the prospect of going to a party with her. The first one they’ve attended in ages. And she’d flashed that bright and cheerful little smile. That was all it had taken.

She is dressed as finely as she can be, but she doesn’t think that the outfit does her the favors she was hoping for and no amount of makeup seems to bring life to her expression. She is exceptionally dull with TyLee to her right and Katara to her left.

And by the middle of the party, they all have their own personal crowds. All except she. Azula’s stomach tickles with a discomfort that won’t seem to pass. She wishes that she was still beautiful or that she had some social graces. She wishes that she hadn’t let herself go so terribly far.

People pay her very little attention. And maybe she should be thankful for that. It means that they aren’t ridiculing her. That they aren’t informing her of things that she already knows, of the flaws she already sees.

She wishes that she had gotten better sleep, that she hadn’t chopped her bangs off, that she could muster up a better appetite, that she hadn’t started slacking on her training…

“Hi.”

She stares at her palms. She looks up to see that none of the crowds have dispersed, she wonders if she will ever get an opening to let one of the gang know that she is leaving. She thinks that she will slip out soon, they can find her at home.

She hears the clearing of her throat, “hello-o.”

Azula spares a glace over her shoulder.

The girl behind her waves, her face glows with a smile.

“What?”

The girl hums, “well you’re clearly the life of this party.” She drops down onto the couch next to her anyhow. “Is that why you’re alone?”

What a rude question. But it isn’t exactly untrue; she thinks that, among many other things, it is why she is alone now and always. She shrugs, “I guess. Probably.”

The girl rubs the back of her head. “Geez.”

Azula looks away from her again. Perhaps the girl will leave her alone if she doesn’t speak anymore. She isn’t so lucky. “Have you tried talking to anyone?”

Azula shakes her head.

“Why  not?”

She almost snapes, ‘because people ask too many questions.’ She only shrugs again and after a few moments she replies, “I guess that I don’t know what to say. People aren’t interested in Fire Nation history and battle strategizing.” They probably don’t want to be seen with someone so messy either.

“There are so many people here, you’re bound to find someone else that is.”

“Are you?”

“Nope,” the girl yawns, “boring.”

Azula’s face falls.

“But I’ll still listen if that’s what you want to talk about.”

She doesn’t want to talk about it. Or any of her other weird, and uninteresting interests.

“I’m Seicho, by the way.”

Azula nods, “why are you talking to me?”

“Well… you see, I recognize you. A while ago, before the war ended, there was a moment that has been haunting me ever since…”

Azula isn’t sure that she is following.

“And I had a few questions.”

“Such as?”

“You are princess Azula, right?”

She nods, though she wishes that she weren’t.

“And you did attend Chan’s beach party, right? That was you? The weirdo who laughs really loud and sets kuai ball nets on fire?”

Azula’s frown deepens. “What of it?”

“I just wanted to know why you put that drink on my head.”

“Your hands were full, where else was I supposed to put it?” It was quite simple really.

The girl laughs, “you could have held onto it or set it on some random table or something.”

She clears her throat, “your head was more convenient.”

“I...I guess…?” she laughs again. She stands up and for some reason Azula’s heart sinks. She thought that she might not be lonely tonight, but the girl has her answers and now she is...she is extending her hand out? Azula furrows her brows. “Do you know how to dance, princess?”

“I haven’t had a chance or a reason to learn.”

“It’s not that different from firebending, I’ll teach you a little something.” She offers.

If she knows what is good for her, she would stay out of the spotlight, keep attention well away from herself. The last thing that she needs is the entire party watching her decrepit body running clumsily through dance moves that she should have learned prior to attending. But she doesn’t want to be alone tonight. She isn’t sure what she will do if she is left alone…

She takes the girl’s hand. Azula doesn’t really want the attention. Not at all. The less eyes that take in her less than pleasing aesthetic, the better. But Seicho is a loud one. A bold one. And when she dips Azula back and pulls her up in time with the music for a third time she makes an announcement.

“I’m lucky!” She declares. “I have the prettiest dance partner in the room.”

She brushes Azula’s bangs out of her face--even, well trimmed bangs. Long bangs. And suddenly the illusion shatters. Suddenly her skin is soft with an even complexion. Suddenly her eyes aren’t so heavy and tired. Her frame is fuller and her lips uncracked. She remembers that she hasn’t been haggard and unhealthy in quite some time now. She remembers that sometimes things get distorted in her mind, that the past may layer itself over the future. She remembers that she is no longer fourteen and bound in chains. No longer sixteen and freshly emerging from an institution, exhausted and low.

She remembers that she is happy. This time when she looks in the mirror, the face that stares back at her is from the present; well groomed, healthy, and lively--albeit on the tired side tonight.

“Are you alright?” Seicho asks.

She thinks that she is, she is just...lightly disoriented. She needs a chance for her mind to catch back up to the present.  “I want to sit down for a moment.”

“Sure, princess.” Seicho replies, she guides Azula into a chair. “Would you like a drink?”

Azula nods.

They don’t hate her. Most people don’t. Most people are as indifferent as they ought to be. And they eyes that fall upon her aren’t judgmental, they are curious more than anything. She still isn’t a particularly social person, paradoxically, it is an invitation for more attention when she does attend parties.

Seicho holds out the glass, “just put it on the table this time, not my head, okay.”

“I think that I can manage.” She sips at the drink as the pieces shift back into place. She supposes that she should have known that she was having an off day when she overheard Zuko ask TyLee and Mai to keep an eye on her.

“So, what’s going on?” Seicho asks.

“Sometimes I…” She sets her drink aside. “Things get mixed up.” She points at her head. “I’m sure that you’ve heard by now…”

“Bits and pieces.” Seicho admits.

“Sometimes it feels like…” she furrows her brows, trying to articulate it. “Sometimes I go back to some of my worst days. Sometimes it’s full scale--I’m alone and I don’t have any friends. It feels like it anyhow. Other times it’s more of a blend.”

“A blend?”

“I know that they,” she gestures to the others, “are my friends.” It still feels strange to say, likely that is exactly what makes it so easy to forget when her head is not clear. “But I still feel like I did just after I was transferred to that facility.” Sometimes the image is so vivid in her mind that it appears in the mirror.

Seicho nods. “That sounds frightening.”

“I’m used to it.” It is a lie to make things less tense. Pity makes her uncomfortable anyhow.

“And that happened tonight?”

Azula nods. “It is a relief to know that I’m not a scraggly mess.” That she isn’t ugly and embarrassing to be around.

“It’s fine to be a scraggly mess sometimes.” Seicho replies.

“You didn’t see my haircut.” She grumbles.

“I’m sure that it was cute.” Seicho insists, ruffling her hair. “You have a pretty face, you can make it work.”

She shakes her head, “not then I didn’t.”

Seicho quirks a skeptical brow. She changes her approach. “Alright, fine, let’s say that you’re right…”

“I am right.”

“My point still stands. It’s okay to be a mess every now and again.” As if to accent her point she ruffles Azula’s hair entirely out of place. Azula grimances, this is something that she is still working on. Something that leaves her jittery.

“How about this?” Seicho offers. “You leave your hair like this for the rest of the night. If people treat you like shit for it then you can stick with your ridiculous standards.

“Ridiculous!?”

Seicho nods, “yes, ridiculous.”

Azula opens her mouth to protest. Seicho puts a finger to her lips. “You know what I think?”

Azula sighs, she has heard it so many times before from so many people from her therapist to TyLee. “That I’m perfect the way I am.”

Seicho crinkles her brows in disgust. “No! I think that you aren’t perfect, but it doesn’t really matter. You don’t have to be. If someone really loves or cares about you, they’ll look at your ugly haircut and decide that they like your pretty eyes enough to stay. They’ll acknowledge that you are uptight and cranky but they’ll stick around because you’re really smart and loyal.”

Azula swallows. “You’ve known me for maybe an hour…”

“And you leave some strong first impressions.” Seicho shrugs. “I was hoping that we can talk more after the party and I can see if I’m right.”

Azula’s stomach flutters. She has never been asked on a date before and she certainly hadn’t anticipated that to happen tonight. Agni knows that her lost and hurt fourteen year old self could have never conceptualized such a thing.

“That would be nice, Seicho.”

The girl grins. “Wonderful! Are you up for another dance?”

She lets the girl lead her back onto the dancefloor. Hair messy, dress slightly disheveled. And yet she feels much more confident than she had when she’d initially walked into the party.

[the-darklings]

coa one year later & self-reflection

(*drags out a creaky metal chair and plops down on it heavily*)

Hi. It’s me, ya boi skinny--

Wait, wrong one. Do over.

Hi, it’s me, Kat, and I’m not dead. Clearly. Today being one year anniversary of COA has kinda put me in a reflective mood, so I guess I decided to sit down and just...talk about some things, thoughts and feelings I’ve been bottling inside for a hot sec. Especially given how radio silent I have gone on here and people deserve a bit of perspective. 

And before anyone starts worrying, it’s all good, and I’m still around and currently in good health for the most part. 

So, let’s take it back to the start. Regardless of how dramatic it may sound, we need to go back a year for that. 

By technicality alone, COA actually turned one year old on October 12th. That’s when the first part was posted. However, the reason I’m treating today as the aforementioned birthday is simple: I had no intention of this story ever being more than a short two-parter. I told this to the discord gang already but COA was only going to have two parts. V was going to die in Tokyo and the rest of the story follows glimpses of John throughout the movies and it’s her ghost that haunts him. Skipping ahead, it was going to have a bittersweet ending of John eventually dying, having completed his task, only to be greeted by V, Daisy and Helen in the afterlife. A peace of sorts. Then, I realised that, well, no. I have more to say on this world and intrigue about this placeholder character V kept growing. 

November 1st happened and I made a very last minute call to continue COA but with the added pressure of doing it during NaNoWriMo 2019. And boy did I. Most of the story was figured out during that very intense month. I posted Part 2 on this day a year ago because I was so eager to share it. Perhaps, in retrospect, a bit too eager. 

For those of you who may not know this, I work as a writer full time for my actual every day job. I’m the main writer for an original webcomic called In the Bleak Midwinter on Webtoon.com and have been for almost two years now. Getting what is essentially your dream job is amazing. I’m very lucky on that front but it also taught me stark realities of having your job and only hobby overlap. It’s a dangerous creative mix. Especially because I was not used to being constraint in what I create or the feeling like I have to please anyone else. Writing as a job is a whole other avenue of creative exhaustion. I love my job a lot and am very, very lucky to have it but it doesn’t change the fact that those initial stages made me fall back on COA a lot for creative freedom that I craved so desperately. To an unhealthy degree looking back on it now. 

But going back to November last year. NaNo time. I did it. Finished on the 24/25th I believe. A juicy final count of 52k+. All while maintaining a weekly update schedule for a fic that usually hit around 10k per update, if not more, even during those early days. Add writing an original story on top of that. Writing every day for hours on end (we are talking 10-12hr days) without any time for other hobbies or time for myself in general. I kept pushing and pushing and pushing. Losing weight and sleep in the process. I think the thing that convinced me that I should continue doing so is the fact that the outpour of support for COA ended up surpassing anything I ever expected or even dared to hope for. I’m not a huge numbers person but the outpour of love and just sheer investment in the story and characters blew me away. John Wick fandom is on the smaller side and has been going through downtime when I posted COA so my expectations were...well, small tbh. I like keeping expectations low to avoid any disappointments in general. But I’ve also always had an issue of being a massive 0 or 100 kind of person. If I love something, it consumes me. In this case, it brought me as much joy and freedom as much as it was steadily pushing me towards the ultimate crash. 

That being said, I can’t thank you all enough for every comment, like, reblog and message and fanart. You’re the reason I got this far. With your support. It brightened some really dark days for me.

But. 

To be frank, it’s never been about you guys. I never wrote or pushed because I felt like I had to appease anyone. That creative mindset is pure poison and I long since learned to let go of it. I kept pushing and kept working myself to the bone because I liked it. I liked how reading peoples’ responses made me feel. I liked the addictive nature of reading all the comments and theories after an update. I loved the idea of brightening peoples’ days and giving them something to cheer them up after what might have been a shitty day. Even if that was at expense of my own time/well being. But for a long time, it wasn’t. I love writing a lot but facts remain facts. 

It was beyond unhealthy and burnout wasn’t a question of if but when and that when was approaching at neck-breaking speed. 

So we come to the end of November. Part 4 has just come out. People were invested and I was invested alongside them. I was just finishing up Part 5 which (back then) was the biggest single chapter I’ve ever written and god I still recall my sheer dread because that was the beginning of Santino being established as a LI. Looking back on that now, it’s downright hilarious how worried I was about the reception of him and V together after John.

So honestly, I hit burnout at around Part 8. Because that’s the first time I recall struggling with writing a chapter. Part 8 came out on December 28th. I had a brief break for holidays. But my mistake was not taking longer back then. Because I continued writing with a barely healed burnout. Followed by almost a year of struggling and continuously creating through that state. It wasn’t like I eased off the pressure, either. Oh, no. The chapters grew in size, the world and the characters with it. AUs amassed quickly and while I adore every single one - again, I didn’t know how to pace myself well enough.

I’m spiteful though. The more the chapters struggled the more I pushed against the burnout. By the time Chicago arrived, however, I knew I was in trouble. I ended up writing 43k+ in a span of 2 months, I believe. And while to some it may not seem like a lot given the time frame, it’s a lot when you’re burnout to a crisp & writing an original story for work + deadlines. Which I was burned out and then some. Chicago was something I was looking forward to writing for months. I have built it up since Part 4. It was a long time coming. So while I’m still proud of it, I would be lying if I said that some scenes were not sacrificed for the sake of keeping to my invisible schedule that no one but me actually cared about. You guys have always been patient. I never felt pushed into anything. It’s always only ever been me doing the harm. 

Chicago was the downwards spiral for me mentally. I felt like I was failing to live up to my own expectations. That people were drifting away from it. I was plagued by the thought that the story I poured so much into was falling apart and growing weaker. Which this has always been an issue with me: I am my own harshest critic. Always have been. In fact, I’m a downright mean little fucker when it comes to just tearing at myself. I know writing is for fun - and it is - but I still like the idea of being proud of my work which only made everything worse despite the love each update received. 

This takes us to the beginning of June. Specifically, June the 2nd. Or, as I like to call it: Kat Makes Another Impulsive Decision but This One Actually Works Out For the Better. On this day, I created the COA Discord server. And damn, I’m not sure what exactly I was expecting when I did ngl. I did it for fun and as an escape more so than anything. But somehow it ended up being the best decision I made in a long while. I know some of you are reading this. So love you lots, dorks. It’s such a privilege to be able to call so many of you my friends even outside of COA now. That little community has given me some of the best memories from this year and helped me to crawl out of my own metaphorical pit I was stuck in. Mentally, I’m doing much better than I did beginning of this summer. Which could be summed up as a constant self-hatred cycle and a feeling of inadequacy. 

That, however, does not mean my burnout magically disappeared. If anything Chapter 17 just put a nail in the coffin so to speak. 2020 has been a shitty year just across the board for obvious reasons I don’t need to go into here but that can only partially be attributed to my mental state. Chapter 17 was...exhaustive. To say the least. But I was determined to stick with my vision and not split it up. I was also starting to be a bit more forgiving towards myself in terms of how long I may take to write it thanks to guys on discord though the feeling of failure and worry never quite faded fully. I’m proud of Part 17. Truly. But that was also when I hit rock bottom creatively on COA. It drained me completely. 

I tried writing Part 18 for weeks after, day in and day out, not getting past the first scene and hating every word I wrote. So I took a deep breath and stopped. Figured I let it marinate and wait instead of trying to piece one of the most crucial chapters in this story like some Frankenstein monster two sentences at the time.

So my solution was simple: give myself some distance from it and write other things. Get my spark back. Of course that’s always a good idea. Having multiple creative escapes is the best thing you can do for yourself creatively. There was just one tiny little problem. 

I was still burned out. Still am. The problem went deeper than just being burned out over COA. I was burned out over writing itself. 

Which is an issue for a person who only has writing as a creative outlet.

I don’t have any other way to express myself. So I was stuck in a runt, trying to write because it’s the only thing that makes me genuinely happy even when I really shouldn’t have. And let me tell you. It’s a shitty fucking feeling. My burnout worsened. I had a thousand ideas but every time I tried to get them down it felt forced, fragmented, and weak. Repetitive and dry. Now, this is also in part because English isn’t my native language, so my vocab is limited as a result, but I hit that sweet rock bottom in that regard, too. 

So, I worked on V (but in her OC form Clara), Lucien and The Elites. All those characters have grown so much since you last read about them. I have multiple original projects planned down the line that will feature all of them existing in their own world, with their own stories and no longer constrained by JW canon.  

Which, finally, takes us to the end of October and beginning of November 2020. 

I was convinced that the best course of action was to do NaNo again but with an original story this time (involving V). Suffice to say, it took a grand total of maybe 5-6 days and hating every second of writing it while also feeling like this project I’m so passionate and excited to write (still am) is just...going down the toilet to be blunt, to realise I may have made the wrong call. 

Still, the stubborn ass that I am, I pushed through. Convinced I can get into it if I just keep going. The realizations that I am sharing with you right now won’t have been possible if it hadn’t been for a rather curious turn of events about a week and a half ago.

I recently bought a gaming laptop, all in preparation for Cyberpunk 2077 dropping ofc. But, in the meantime, I kept recommending a game to a friend on the COA server. That game? Far Cry 5. (It’s a blast to play btw, just a side note.) And playing it brought back all the feelings of nostalgia from the days when I used to write for that fandom. So I revisited some old work. Checked the stuff I never published and that has been sitting ducks in my docs for months and hoo boy. Let me tell you it was a vibe check of the worst kind. 

The stark difference in the prose and the ease with which it flowed was...startling. It made me remember why I love writing so much and how proud I used to be of what I wrote back in the day. Which is not to say I’m not proud now, but it was just such a sharp dip in quality it was impossible to ignore.  

So I didn’t.  

I paused NaNo, moving it to another month. I paused writing for everything but work, which with our season coming to an end I will also get a rest from soon, too. I kinda paused in general. For the first time in a while, I finally forced myself to switch off. Rest. 

The reason why I haven’t been on here is simple: guilt and not having energy to be on here. I like making my blog a safe space for everyone. Similar to escape it has become for me. I couldn’t pretend I was fine when I wasn’t. I felt obliged to perform and being here became exhausting. I haven’t been checking my inbox. Haven’t done much of anything except occasionally dropping by and reblogging a random post so people know I’m alive.

And that’s that, folks. That’s where I am currently. Resting. Completely exhausted mentally but resting. Getting my energy back. 

So where does that leave us, huh? If you read this far, dunno what to tell you. Thanks, I suppose. It’s still odd to think people actually care about my existence sometimes.

I know what you’re likely thinking, too. So does this mean COA is never gonna be finished? What is gonna happen to it? Are you abandoning it?

The answer: no. 17 out of 25 chapters and 250k+ in, I’m too far in not to give it a proper conclusion. Not because I owe it to anyone other than myself. I want this story to be a stepping stone for my future as a writer. I want to prove to myself that I can get this done and finish it. As of right now (as you can no doubt tell with how long it’s been since last update) it’s on a soft hiatus while I rest. This rest? Not sure how long it may last. Right now, my plan is till mid December at which point I will reevaluate. Ideally, I finish the year with an update. But my New Year’s resolution is to finish COA. That timeline has become a little more murky now but, again, ideally it’s within the first quarter of 2021. Will that happen? I don’t know. And I don’t want to make false promises, either. 

All I’m saying is that it will be done. I’m just no longer sure how long, exactly, it may take me to reach that Epilogue. I don’t expect many people to stick around for however long it may take me, but if you do, thank you. Truly. I really and deeply mean that. 

So what’s on the cards for this blog in the meantime? Well, CP77 is coming out in under a month (if it doesn’t get moved again lmao rip) and I expect that to be my soft return to posting my writing on here again. We will see where the muse takes me, if at all. Regardless though, I’m excited. 

One doctorate thesis later, here we are at the end of this really long rambling session. I hope that this has given you some perspective on things going on behind the scenes. I spared you some of the gorier details but I think this post has been long overdue. I suppose I, myself, was just too unwilling to face these things despite knowing about them deep down for a while now. I’m too self-critical not to notice but acting on correcting this behavior has been a whole other matter clearly. 

Thank you for reading this post, my writing in general, and supporting me. I’m not going anywhere. I’m still around. More is on the way in the future. I’ll be seeing you all real soon. And all my love to all of you. 

Love,

- Kat.   

[macamonium]

god help

I'm writing this thing and it's gonna make me cry lol

this is (hopefully) gonna be part of a larger fic, but as I was jotting down the outline this just dripped out. its abt self-love thru good food and Bakugou learning to forgive himself the right way

maybe tw for eating disorder stuff, though that's not what the fic will be about

Bakugou emptied a full-sodium packet of beef bouillon into the pan. The smell drafted through the dorm’s empty kitchen, and his mind wandered with it.

He knew, regrettably, that he reflexively went for the full-sodium bouillon because of his mom. Mitsuki had the same impatience for low-fat and low-calorie “diet” foods that she did for backtalk and attitude. She scoffed at the TV whenever it lit up with commercials of dancing, ever-thinning crackers, or the new zero-calorie alternative for something that was never meant to be low-calorie. Sour cream, for chrissakes! It’s fucking dairy, it’s meant to be that way!

She lectured Bakugou about it when he was really little, on some Saturday in the middle of summer. He was inside for the afternoon nursing an injury from what he reported was a particularly slippery log in the forest. Really, it was payback from a sore-loser gang of fifth graders. So his ankle wasn’t really twisted, but his chin sure was bruised - that log had a mean right hook. No way in hell was he letting the neighborhood kids see his face like that, so he was there, in the kitchen, pretending to take extra care of his left foot while Mitsuki made them lunch.

Stirring the curry in his own pan, which was now simmering, Bakugou could picture it more clearly than he had in a long, long while. He had been sitting on the farthest barstool - yeah, it was that one because one of the legs was loose and he was rocking back and forth, back and forth, and when his head swung along with it his mom’s hands, stirring the pan, popped in and out of view from behind the milk carton. He smiled softly to himself now, taking stock of how he was standing. How similar it was. Was she making curry that day?

If Bakugou couldn’t remember exactly what she said, he could make a pretty good guess on how she’d phrase it. He just knew her that well. He could hear her now - it'd have gone something like this:

“You see, when they first started puttin’ the nutrition facts on the packages of food products, back in, like, the 1920s, the chemists had a field day. I mean, really, they ran that industry.”

Katsuki didn’t know what industry was, but he liked hearing his mama talk.

“And at that time, chemistry wasn’t what it is now. It wasn’t molecules and atomic structure and that kinda thing, it was grams of this and milliliters of that. Still, that was more than regular people knew, so it was left to the specialists.”

She held the spatula out for him to lick. He took it in two chubby hands.

“More spice, mama.”

“Whatever you say, baby. And wipe your chin.” He used the bottom of his shirt, but she didn’t say anything. His dad wasn’t around for that kind of thing.

“Don’t get me wrong, knowing what’s in your food is great.” She gestured carelessly with the lick-marked spatula before plunging it back into the curry. “Certainly better than whatever was going on before. They used to put cocaine in Coca-Cola, you know.”

“What’s cocaine, mama?”

“A drug, baby. Makes you go crazy for a while. Don’t go trying it, and don’t go repeating it - though I suppose that’s hard in earnest, it’s what the ‘Coca’ in Coca-Cola is named after.”

“It’s named after D-RUGS??” Katsuki sat forward in his seat, but the squeaky leg cursed a whine at him and he sat back.

“That’s right: Drugs,” Mitsuki said to her eight-year old, her eyes wide. “Though people don’t make that connection anymore so they didn’t ever rebrand. They used to drink Coca-Cola when people got sick. It cleared out your sinuses, sure, but it also made you shout really loud and go streaking through the park. Ha! Anyway, where was I?”

“The. Uh… oh, the nutriss- nuturish-”

“Ah, nutritional facts. Say it with me, baby: Nutrition. Noo-trish-un.”

“Nutrition,” they said together. Katsuki smiled. Bet dumb Deku doesn’t know that one.

“So, the legacy of old-fashioned chemistry is that the nutritional value of foods isn’t really evaluated beyond the physical makeup of the food.” These were big words but Katsuki got the gist, and Mitsuki knew that. “It doesn’t tell you what those things do for you and your body, beyond ‘fat is bad, protein is good,’ and even that’s just considered on a physical level in regards to your body. There is so much more to food mentally, and emotionally, that goddamn counts as nutrition.”

“God-damn.”

“Yeah, don’t say that,” she said half-heartedly. “And I don’t just mean ‘veg out whenever you need it solely because it makes you feel good.’ Don’t totally disregard physical nutrition. I mean that food making you feel good shouldn't be totally disregarded either. Spices, for instance.” Katsuki cheered from his seat. “Yeah, you like spice.

“Food should taste good. It drives me up the goddamn wall when I see those health bitches on the TV drain out the grease from their meat. Right down the sink. That’s what makes it taste good! If you don’t want grease, eat turkey! And the ‘nutritional’ benefits of draining the grease hardly outweigh the emotional satisfaction of a good-tasting meal. At that point, it’s just a practice in self-sabotage, in pointless, self-inflicted suffering. And for what, so you get kudos from Nestle, who happens to be rolling out their new line of trans-fat free crackers? Please.”

She ladled the curry onto a plated bed of rice with a sigh. The smell made Katsuki’s tummy gurgle. He licked his lips really slowly, the same way he saw Spongebob do on the TV that morning.

“Anyway, my point is - when something tastes good, that’s good nutrition. Being healthy is being happy, and if the food you’re eating makes you happy, that is healthy. I’ll eat my pickles whole from the jar, even if Dr. Oz gives me a lip about ‘it’s too much sodium,’ and do you know why? Because I love the crunch of a fresh pickle, and I know that as sure as I know that there’s two grams of carbs in it because the sticker on the side tells me so. I know I love it so I do it, and that’s a beautiful thing. That’s something I deserve.”

She slid the steaming plate, loaded with peas, potatoes, and carrots in curry, across the table to her son. He reached for the fork, but she snapped it away at the last second. Katsuki looked into his mom’s eyes. “Say it back to me, baby: ‘Food should taste good.’”

“Food should taste good, mama.”

“I deserve this good food.”

“I… I deserve this good food.”

“That’s my baby, now eat up.”

A tear squeezed through Bakugou’s eyes at the memory, and fell down his cheek into the pan. He didn’t even remember the last part until it all ran through his head.

God, he couldn’t help it, and there was no one around to prove anything to - he made the effort to muffle himself with shallow breaths, but he let the tears flow free and hot down their tracks. This time they reached his chin. He asked the ceiling, berating himself on how foolish he was to think it would answer: did he still even deserve it?

[wulfies-kpop-fanfics]

One Photo → Mark Lee [6]

↳  Pairing: Mark Lee/Reader

↳  AU: Soulmate!AU - The first touch of two soulmates permanently scars their bodies.

↳  Warning: Suggestive

↳  Word count: 4,349

↳  Chapters: Prelude | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | You Are Here! | 7 | 8 | 9

⁙ Summary: For an end of the year photography project, you’re tasked with taking a photograph for your favourite group, NCT127, and coincidentally, discover your soulmate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FRIDAY - 6 - Part 2

As the two of you travel down the hallway making quiet conversation, Mark stops in his tracks. You're completely focused on him, not sure what he's looking at. The hallway goes silent, save for heavy breathing and the sound of kissing. 

Peeking out from behind Mark's back, you peer around the bend of the hallway to join your soulmate's gaze, landing on none other than Rhiannon and Donghyuck, the latter pushing her up against the wall. 

"You hypocrite!" Mark quickly covers your mouth with his hand, but it's already too late- both of them are startled enough to quickly separate and begin smoothing out their clothes. 

Once Rhiannon realizes that it's you and Mark that caught her, she grabs Donghyuck's hand. She looks completely serious, her face flushed red. "Where, need it now. Our turn." 

With your mouth still covered, you look up at Mark. He's still nearly stunned, exchanging looks with Donghyuck, who is equally frozen in place and watching all of this unfold. "Uh," Mark starts sheepishly, glancing between the couple standing before you. "End of the hall, second last room," 

Donghyuck nods and says something in Korean, and from context you assume he's done the same as Mark - prepared a room. He tugs on her hand gently, quickly leading her past the two of you - the slightly awkward moment passing as soon as Rhiannon and Donghyuck are out of sight. 

Mark removes his hand from your mouth, and you glance back for a moment. "Well," you say, swallowing thickly. "I guess I know how she feels now."

Mark smiles, barely keeping back a laugh. "Seems like it. Let’s go back to the stage before we find out if those rooms are soundproof or not." 

It was relieving to know that once you two arrived back in the arena, none of the guys even so much as made a whisper about what you and Mark so obviously left to do. Everyone was now sitting on the stage around what looked like a picnic blanket that had a spread of snacks over top of it. They all waved to greet you and Johnny helped you up on the stage when you approached. “Help yourself,” Jaehyun said, popping a piece of melon in his mouth. “We just gotta wait for Donghyuck and Rhiannon to come back and then we can do a small dance practice.” 

You and Mark happily approach the others and take your seats among them. You sigh in contentment as you chew on a piece of pineapple, finally chipping away at your post-sex appetite.

"So," Johnny begins as you're about to eat your second piece of pineapple, "we couldn't get much out of Mark, but we were all wondering why you and Rhiannon were living by yourselves off-campus in the city." 

You freeze for a moment, chewing and swallowing cautiously. Mark grabs your hand and looks at you sympathetically. 

"It's a little complicated," you answer, "but we chose to move out when we were accepted to college. I lived with her family for a while after my parents were arrested, but I feel like I made their home life a lot worse. I would have left earlier, but my inheritances and my government grants didn't arrive immediately." 

Jaehyun looked at you, eyebrows furrowed. "What happened to your parents?" 

You licked your lips and sighed. "Your general gang slash drug dealer gig. They both got hefty prison time for child neglect, drug possession and trafficking on top of harbouring fugitives." 

Everyone was silent, save for the muted sounds of eating. "That all sounds horrible," Johnny said. "I never would have guessed you came from that life."

"Sometimes I can't believe I went through any of that either," you agree, "after I left home my life got a lot better. I have Rhiannon to thank for it all. Because of her, I'm here now." You smile as best you can, picking up a mini ham and cheese sandwich triangle you spotted on the platter. 

"What are we all talking about?" Rhiannon called as she and Donghyuck entered through one of the side archways into the arena. You and Mark helped them up onto the stage where they took their places and also began picking at the food. 

"Collecting my life story," you say, watching the others nod. "I was saying that I lived with you and your family for a while until we moved out." 

"Mm, yeah. Rough few years," she commented, picking up her own sandwich triangle. "I'm so glad we moved out."

"Why?" Jungwoo asked, causing you to turn your attention to him.

Rhiannon licked her lips. "It was pretty easy going for the five of us while my mom was still around. (Y/N) and I were working to help my dad out and my mom ran a daycare. When the two of us were graduating from high school, my mom passed away from breast cancer." 

You looked down at the floor of the stage, acutely aware of the sullen silence as she paused. "Then life got bad. Mine and my sister's mental health plummeted and everyone was always arguing, especially my dad and my sister. Once (Y/N) and I were both accepted to study in the city, we moved out with her inheritance as fast as we could." 

"I'm sorry," Taeyong added. "It's better now, right?" 

"As good as it can be," you smile somberly, peeking up a little bit as Mark held your hand. "I miss our mom more and more every day, but we know she's watching over us, cheering us on. If we give up on what we've been working so hard for, she'd definitely beat our asses. Once we graduate, we will be able to build the best lives for ourselves as we can."

"Now that we have all of you, it feels like we fell out of a nightmare and ended up in a dream," Rhiannon said, chewing on another piece of food. "Now all I need to do is get (Y/N) to stop eating stuff with ketchup and I will reach nirvana."

You rolled your eyes and smiled at her. "Ketchup isn't that bad," you protest, nearly breaking out into full out laughter as Mark also makes a disgusted face toward you. 

"You like ketchup?" He asked, jokingly frowning. 

"Not as much as her sister," you point at Rhiannon, "Lindsay will eat ketchup with mac and cheese!"

"Oh God, that's disgusting!" Mark stuck his tongue out and nearly gagged. 

"We know!" Both you and Rhiannon exclaimed in unison. 

Things quieted down again as everyone finished the snacks that were laid out, and you all helped clean up once the tray of snacks was polished off. Yuta ended up being the one voted to go backstage with the dishes, but Johnny, Taeyong and Doyoung eventually offered to go and help. Jungwoo, Jaehyun and Taeil also left, you assumed to maybe go to the bathroom, leaving you, Rhiannon, Mark and Donghyuck to occupy the stage. 

Once the crowd had diminished, Rhiannon turned her attention to Mark, mischief written all over her face. You already know what's about to come out of her mouth, so you stand up and make your way onto the other side of the stage to hide behind a curtain. 

"(Y/N)? Why are you hiding?" Mark seems curious, standing up to walk over to you, but stops in his tracks when Rhiannon begins to speak. 

"So, Mark, you guys were up there for a while."

"Y-yeah…" his response was drawn out, not exactly sure where the conversation was going. You inwardly groaned. 

"Did you like (Y/N)'s boobs? Pretty big, right? Also super pretty," 

"Noona!" Donghyuck chimed in, also standing up and reaching for her arm. "That's bad!"

Mark goes beet red, looking your way sheepishly. He starts stuttering as if he's shutting down. You take a deep breath, you probably should do something. 

"Y-yeah, they were pretty great, um-" he starts, then it looks like something clicks in his head. "H-how would you know what they look like?"

Rhiannon grinned at him, her eyes shifting to the backstage entrance as Yuta and the others were all clamouring back in, "I've seen her naked tons of times. Best breasts on the market if you ask me." 

"This needs context! This really needs context!" Johnny shouted as soon as everyone else stopped in their tracks. 

At this point, Mark is so red that you think he might actually turn into a tomato. He's completely frozen and speechless, mouth hanging open in shock. Taking in a deep breath you emerge from the curtain you take Mark's hand and squeeze it gently. 

"How about we address how quickly you came back from the VIP rooms?" You question, sticking your other hand on your hip.

"Well, y'know," she starts, looking over at the small crowd of boys staring in disbelief. 

"Noona-" Donghyuck tries to stop her, but she whispers something in his ear which in turn seems to stop his protest. 

"I'm all for taking dick up my cooch but I figured a nice thigh fuck would be better to start out with. Keep them wanting more, right? Oh, he's not small, either."  She winked. 

"Noonaaaaaa," Donghyuck whines, following that up with something else in Korean you couldn't understand. Everyone in the room was completely silent, frozen in disbelief of what had just entered their ears. 

"Well, I think you got your context, John," Jaehyun was the first to utter any words. 

It definitely took a while for you to process what just happened. You knew what Rhiannon was like and you expected a small comment from her, but you were completely floored. You opened your mouth to say something, but no words came. 

"Well, let's not just stand here, we have an hour before the stylists want us," Taeyong clapped his hands politely, and that seemed to get everyone else in gear. The awkwardness still took a while to fade, so you and Rhiannon decided to sit off to the side while the boys clamoured into their positions to practice dancing. 

Once the melody of Cherry Bomb entered your ears, your heart began to thud in your chest. It was one of your favourite songs by them, and the dance was also easily one of your favourites, just behind BOSS. You sat just by the edge of the curtain, clapping along and waving whenever Mark glanced in your direction, tapping your feet against the floor. Rhiannon was outright jamming next to you, making you laugh and grin at her as you shook your head. 

When Simon Says started, you stood and (pathetically) tried to imitate the dance as you stood in your spot. Mark looked over at you for a split second as he faced you to change positions in the dance and he flashed a quick thumbs up with a smile. 

The next thing you notice though is Rhiannon, who also decided to stand up to start dancing. "Hey (Y/N), watch this," she bends her arms to a ninety-degree angle and then begins to swivel her hips like she's playing with a hula hoop. 

You can barely contain your laughter as you watch her dance and don't even notice that the music stopped, everyone turned toward her to catch her in the act. 

Yuta is holding his phone, presumably the one controlling the Bluetooth speakers that are hidden somewhere on the stage, trying not to laugh. "Neither of you know how to dance, do you?" 

"Hell no," you're wiping away a tear, watching Rhiannon' silly grin. 

"I don't know what you're talking about, but I hope Red Velvet has an opening cause I'm about to take the world by storm," she is hardly able to finish her joke before she also bursts out laughing, doubling over and holding her stomach.

"C'mere," Mark held out a hand to you, "let's all have some fun before we have to go." 

With a smile you approach your soulmate, pressing your scarred palms to his. A newer song you don't think you've heard yet starts playing over the speakers, Yuta smiling warmly in your direction. Rhiannon joins Donhgyuck and the boys slowly begin to teach you an easy dance, laughing and having fun. 

Time flew by and eventually they had to go backstage to get changed and have makeup done by the stylists. You and Rhiannon stuck around backstage for a bit, but eventually, you decided to go find your seats. You left your backpack in the stylist room with Mark, hoping you would remember it after the show. 

"Wait!" Mark caused you to stop in your tracks on the way out, turning towards him and meeting his eyes. "I have something for you." He stands up from the makeup chair he was perched in and dug around in a cardboard box in the corner of the room. He eventually comes up with an NCT127 light stick box. 

"You really didn't have to, I could have gone out to the merchandise line," you said sheepishly as Mark handed it to you with a grin.

"It's a gift," he retorted with a smile. "I wouldn't want you to be in that line long enough for you to miss any of the performances."

"Thank you, Mark, I'll wave it higher than everyone else." You looked over at the stylist. "Can I kiss him, please?"

She nodded. "We haven't done lips yet. Go ahead." 

Excitedly you lean forward to peck Mark on the lips. "I love you, see you soon," 

"I love you too, (Y/N)," Mark held your hand for a few seconds before he had to let you leave the room and return to his chair. 

Once you had taken your seat and prepared your light stick, the lights began to fade. Other fans were being let into the venue, and soon enough the concert would start. Rhiannon looked over at you with a grin, holding up a pair of earplugs. 

"Check your light stick box," she said. "If we learned anything from seeing BTS last year is that we need these, Donghyuck packed some for me. Maybe Mark did for yours."

Peering into your box, you noticed at the bottom that there was a pair of earplugs sitting there and a note in Mark's writing.

In case you forgot. Love, Mark

You smiled at the note fondly, placing it back in the box, closing it tightly. You slipped it underneath your chair, sitting down and watching the lights dim. You just finished putting the lightstick strap around your wrists, putting the earplugs in your pocket. 

Your phone buzzed as fans began to take their seats, and smiled when you read a text from Mark. 

Mark: I hope you're ready for the show tonight

You: I've been preparing myself since I bought the tickets

Mark: I wanted to ask you something before my phone gets confiscated

You: What do you need?

Rhiannon perched her chin on your shoulder and read the texts. "Ooh," she sang. "Does he sext you?" 

"No!" You quickly dispute. "I'm not sure what he's gonna ask." 

Mark: I spoke to my manager and the guys, since I leave for Vancouver tomorrow, I wanted to know if I could spend the night at your place

You: you would really be allowed to do that?

Mark: they made a special exception, I just wanted to know if you would be comfortable with it

You: of course I would be, you are more than welcome to stay with me 

"Ooooh! I hope they made that exception for Hyuckie!" Rhiannon exclaims, taking her head off your shoulder and reaching into her pocket for her phone. 

Mark: that makes me really happy, meet me in the VIP room after the show, I will bring your backpack 

You: okay, I love you, don't overdo it

Mark: I can handle anything life throws at me, dont worry :) love you too

It felt like as soon as you put your phone down, the concert started. Any concert you've ever been to has always managed to be the fastest few hours of your life. This one was no exception - you could feel your heart pound and your chest vibrate with the beat, eyes glued to the stage before you. 

You always had problems remembering everything that took place during any show. You knew every song and you sang until your throat went raw, danced with your lightstick until your arm was sore and rolled your eyes with a smile whenever Rhiannon screamed too loudly, too close to your ear. During the concert, you forgot about life outside. You forget about your problems, your exams, graduation, everything. 

Something you would never forget, though, was every time Mark looked at you. No matter how deep in concentration he was, every time he was on stage and close to you, he would smile. His face would be glistening with sweat, his chest would heave in deep breaths during a transition, but no matter what, he always managed to grin in your direction. 

Being so close to the stage and just being at any concert always gave you a special type of high, that filled your heart with music and happiness that you sometimes felt you couldn't experience. At the end, when the boys left the stage and the lights came back on, you sat down to finish soaking it all in. 

"Agh, I'm all sweaty," was the first thing Rhiannon said since everything was all over, and you couldn't help but laugh a little. 

"I wonder why," you muse sarcastically, looking up at her from your seat with a smile. 

She looked down at you and stuck her tongue out. "Don't you have somewhere to be?" She asked. 

Your eyes widened. "Yeah. Is Donghyuck going to meet you backstage?"

She nodded. "Mhm, I'll meet up with you two later. See you in a bit." 

You gave Rhiannon a quick hug before grabbing your lightstick box and attempting to move with the crowd exiting the arena. Some of the fans that catch a glimpse of you stare as you pass by- most likely noticed that you had a backstage pass lanyard around your neck. You try to avoid eye contact with them as best you can, slipping into the staircase that leads up to the VIP rooms. 

You reached the end of the hallway, gripping the doorknob and pushing it open. The curtain was still covering the window that looked over the arena, and the small coffee table was still pushed up against it, next to the bar stools. You slipped off your shoes and sat on the couch, making yourself comfortable. It would probably be a little while before Marked joined you, so you set down your lightstick box and curled up in the corner of the cushions.

The ringing in your ears slowly faded away as your mind wandered, drifting off into a light snooze. You feel comfortable and warm, the scent of Mark still was barely noticeable in the air around you. You smiled to yourself when you thought of what Mark reminded you of- a strong campfire with fresh s'mores and the sweet summer air that lingered just outside the radius of the fire's warmth.  

There was a soft clicking sound that followed the doorknob being turned. You barely perk up when Mark enters the room, clad in his Superhuman t-shirt and black jeans. It seems all of the sweat from his performances has been wiped away, but his face is still flushed. He slips your backpack off his back and gently sets it by the door. 

"Hey, sleepy," he whispers, approaching you and kneeling before you. He gently takes your hands, kissing the knuckles. "Did you have fun?"

You smile sleepily at him. "Yeah, I had a lot of fun. You don't look tired,"

Mark continued to smile at you. "Looks can be deceiving," he says. "I just have to put some things away and then we can go."

You perk up a bit as he stands, grabbing the blanket to put inside his own backpack. "Shouldn't we wait until everyone is gone?"

Mark shrugs. "We have to go back down to see the others, that should give us some extra time so that we don't get in a streetcar where we will be swarmed." 

You nod, yawning. "Okay, I trust you." 

Mark sat down beside you once he zipped up his backpack, giving you a tired smile. He looked down at his arms, idly running a finger against the scar of his arm. "I guess we will be seeing a lot of news about this soon."

You join his gaze and frown a little. "Do you think it will be bad?" You ask, chewing on your lip. 

"No, I don't think so. At least I hope. I like to think our fandom is mature enough," Mark takes your hand for a moment and squeezes it. "Shall we go?" 

You nod and unfurl yourself to stand up. You both put on your backpacks, you put on your shoes and then head out the door together. You return backstage to meet with everyone, feeling a little surreal that you can personally compliment them on their performances. When you hug each member one last time, you barely catch yourself indulging in their scents, all unique and sweet in their own way. Rhiannon is watching you with a knowing smirk as you do, and as you hug Jungwoo you manage to stick your tongue out at her. 

It felt strange but good to go home that night with Mark. It was warm and a little lonely outside compared to how it was inside the venue during the event, but it was a nice change after being inside with a few thousand screaming people. The streetcar ride and the walk back were pleasant, making idle conversation about the concert as Rhiannon and Donghyuck walked along with you. 

Once you arrive home, everyone stumbles tiredly inside. You bring Mark's backpack into your room, and all of you play rock-paper-scissors to determine who gets to use the bathroom in order. Rhiannon, Donghyuck and Mark all destroyed you in the game, so you hang back in the kitchen to make some sleepy time tea while you waited. 

You nearly fell asleep standing in the kitchen and waiting for your kettle to finish heating up the water. Just as you're finishing preparing everyone's tea, Mark emerges from the bathroom clad in soft pyjamas and sporting freshly dried hair. 

"Is that for me?" He asked, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

You nod at him. "If you could bring the other mugs to Rhiannon and Donghyuck too, Rhi's is the purple mug and the blue one is Donghyuck's. I'm going to go freshen up." 

Mark nods at you with a smile. Briefly holding your hand as you make your way into the bathroom. You shower quickly, not bothering to pamper yourself. Once you get out, you dry your hair thoroughly with a towel, sighing at the feeling of massaging your scalp. 

Once you exit the bathroom, clad in your own pyjamas, you see that Mark is still in the kitchen, clutching his mug of tea. 

"Feel better?" He asks, taking a quick sip.

"Mm," you answer, "I'm just about ready to pass out," 

"I made you a mug of tea if you want it. Half-full." Mark smiles when you gently return his earlier cheek kiss. 

You reach forward and grab the warm Dragon Ball Z mug to take a few quick mouthfuls of perfect tea. "Thank you," you say, "I had a really great day today." 

"Me too," Mark grins sleepily, "but I'm ready to sleep."

"You and me both." You place your mug in the sink. Mark follows suit, gently taking your hand as you lead him to your room. When you pass the living room you notice it's empty, so you assume Rhiannon and Donghyuck have already both gone to sleep. 

Once you open the door to your room, you feel so much more relaxed and comfortable. You beckon Mark in, sheepishly smiling as you begin to relocate your mountain of stuffed animals. There's not much light since you hadn't turned any on, but a streak of moonlight is seeping in through your curtains, enough that some things in your room are clear to see.

"Your room is very cosy," he compliments, taking a seat on the edge of your bed and running his hand along the fabric. 

"I spend a lot of time here, so I like to make it as comfortable as possible,"

Mark nods with a small smile. "Oh, I almost forgot."

"Forgot what?" You watch him curiously as he stands and moves to his backpack, unzipping it and rummaging for a few seconds before pulling out the fuzzy polar bear plush. 

"This belongs to you," he says, tucking it under the covers before taking his seat again. "We should keep him comfy."

You grin at him, "thank you for not thinking I'm weird for asking about it,"

He shakes his head, "anything to help while I'm gone," he comments, trailing off as he continues to observe the contents of your room, and you blush once you realize Mark has spotted some photo cards stuck onto the edge of the shelf above your computer desk. 

"I see you have everyone here," he comments with a smile. "Including…"

"Day6," you answer sheepishly, inviting yourself under the covers. "Come cuddle?" 

Mark chuckles lightly and complies. He pulls back his side of the covers and slides in, immediately moving to drape an arm over your side. He blinks slowly, smiling warmly as his eyes search your face. 

You bring a hand up to lightly run your hand through his hair, massaging his scalp gently. He closes his eyes and hums with contentment.

"I love you," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

"I love you, too." You manage to drift off easily that night, content to sleep in Mark's arms.

[hatsukeii]

I have another songfic idea and despite the requests in my box I will do this first lmao if I don’t Imma forget tomorrow-

This blog is bnha starved, so let’s go with that:3

Idfc//Soulmate AU! Bakugou x Reader

Word count: 2700+

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: In a world where the name of your soulmate’s quirk is tattooed on your arm when you turn 17, Bakugou got unlucky in the soulmate department.

Despite all his prayers and wishes for the words “Game Over” to appear on his arm, life just didn’t want to go his way.

What’s even worse, is those words ended up on shitty half n’ half’s arm. 

What a way to screw with Bakugou.

He watches as you step out of the school gates, Todoroki’s arm wrapped around your waist. Giving you a tiny wave, he rocks forward and backward, hoping for you to notice him. You glance towards his direction, pursing your lips, before ignoring him and making your way home with your boyfriend. The ash blond’s fake grin falters, shoving his hands down his pockets, head hanging low as he turns around and goes his own way.

He still remembers the moment he realised you weren’t his soulmate. The way his heart dropped when the words on his arm said “Zero Gravity”. His parents were ecstatic, cheering as they celebrated over how their baby boy was growing up, and how he would soon meet the love of his life. What they didn’t know, was that he had already found the one he loved, and it sure as hell wasn’t Uraraka, whose quirk was on his arm. Just that one revelation was enough to make his entire weekend shitty. He definitely did NOT want to be with Uraraka. She was way too bubbly and annoying. Plus, her quirk had a lame name. And she’s way too clingy for his liking. He tried his best to stay optimistic about the situation. Maybe he’ll eventually be able to change his fate if he defied it. Maybe if he was able to make you love him back, the names would change. He racked his brains, searched for answers on every website he could think of, asked on every forum he could find, but still, nothing. He was stuck with Uraraka, and there was nothing he could do but sulk and accept it. That night, he cried himself to sleep, knowing he was never going to get a chance with you. The only person he wanted was snatched away from him and just the thought of being able to win her over was ripped to shreds.

The following Monday back to school was no better. In fact, it was worse. He watched as you excitedly told him about your soulmate, the words “Half Hot Half Cold” imprinted on your skin as you explained how you got it the day before. You were beyond excited, knowing fully well who your soulmate was. The pretty boy of 1-A that all the girls were head over heels for. Thank god you couldn’t tell that the tiny grin plastered on his face and the playful cheering was fake. Those were all just poor attempts to mask all the despair and heartbreak he stored up in his chest. All Bakugou could possibly do was be happy for you. That’s what he should’ve done. However, no matter how hard he tried, it just never worked out. You were always there in the back of his head, lingering around in his mind like an annoying pest that he couldn’t get rid of. Thinking of you became a daily routine. He would stare at you longingly in class, text you every day after school, cry about you every night, and wake up puffy eyed. Waves of depression hit him every single time the sight of you having fun with Todoroki appeared in front of his eyes. He swore that if he heard another person talk about how cute you and Todoroki were together he would punch their face in. People backed away from him whenever he was close to the dual haired boy, not wanting to get on his nerves.

In class, Aizawa started noticing his lack of focus in class. For months, Bakugou had been in a constant state of daydream, staring at you in class as he thought of all the things you two could do if only you were his soulmate. He would spoil you so badly. Take you out on as many dates as he possibly could. Kiss your tears away when you were crying. Pillow fights every weekend. Cuddle you while the two of you watched movies on your bed. Eventually present you with a diamond ring in a tiny velvet box. All those possibilities, flushed right down the drain as he was constantly snapped back to reality by his homeroom teacher every single time, remembering that he was only a best friend to you, nothing more. He wasn’t doing as well in class, and his parents were worried. Since when did their straight A son start flunking English? Mitsuki was anxiety ridden, fearing for her son’s mental state, as she should. Bakugou would rather die than admit he was weak, but at times like these, a motherly hug would be nice. Mitsuki would let her son cry on her lap, instead of sulk on his bed all alone. He may not have told her anything about what was making him seemingly depressed, but all he wanted was some form of emotional support, even if it was from his old hag. Masaru would join in sometimes, giving Bakugou a few pats on the head or ruffling his hair. They didn’t know what had changed his son so drastically, however despite their worries for his academics, they knew that he was not okay, and that it was their job to help him, even if they were in the dark about the situation.

“Bakugou, you’re going home alone again? I thought Kirishima was gonna walk you back!” Mina jogs towards Bakugou, placing and hand on his shoulder and launching herself into the air with a jump. Usually, Bakugou would flick her hand off at the last moment, but instead of doing that, he remains stoic, completely ignoring everything around him. “Haaaah? Hello? Earth to Bakugou?” He rolls his eyes, trying not to blast the pinkette’s fingers off as she pokes his cheek, trying to get a reaction out of him as Kaminari and Sero approached the two.

The Bakusquad were quick to catch up on his issue. Kirishima was the first to point out the difference in his now quiet, negative attitude compared to his usually boisterous and aggressive personality. Being the top tier best friend he was, he tried his hardest to get something out of Bakugou. Anything. He soon informed the rest of the gang about it, much to the blond’s annoyance. Since then, they’ve been trying to get Bakugou out of his heartbroken state and back into the rat he usually is. Everyone was worried for him, fearing that this would affect his mental health. They were there for Bakugou since day one, hyping him up whenever he was about to make a move. Cheering him on when he finally asked you out. Encouraging him to continue fighting for you when he was feeling down. They always thought the two of you were meant to be, but they were mistaken, because obviously fate has a cruel way of messing with people. Out of everyone, Kirishima was the most concerned. He had watched his best friend put himself down time and time again, all because of you. He was always there to give him a punch to the back, reminding him that he still had a chance. He was there to listen when Bakugou wanted to vent his issues out. He was his number one wingman, setting the two of you up in secret as an attempt to help Bakugou get with you. When he eventually found out his soulmate was Uraraka, and that yours was Todoroki, he was shocked, to say the least. However he was also frightened. Scared. He was scared that Bakugou would go back to his cold self. He was scared that the friendship he had bonded with you would break. He was scared his best bro’s heart would be shattered. Despite his efforts to cheer him up, the blond was not improving. The fiery, determined flares in his crimson irises were gone, replaced by a dull, hopeless maroon. 

“Don’t be so down in the dumps about the whole soulmate thing Bakubro! Maybe you’ll eventually move on!” Oh, what a big mistake Kaminari just made. The icy glare sent his way is scary enough to kill, piercing through his skull and shaking every single nerve in his body up. “I don’t fucking care at all. Leave me the fuck alone.” This isn’t his usually grumpy attitude, where he’s just irritated. He’s being dead serious, his tone hinting that if they didn’t get away from him right this instant, they were going to get their asses kicked badly. “Guys, maybe we should just leave him alone for now.” The three teens backed away from their moody friend, waving him off before going their separate ways.

Whenever anyone tried to make an effort to understand his frustration, the only answer they would receive was a forced out “I don’t fucking care.” That was the only thing Bakugou would tell people, including you. Oh how oblivious he was, thinking no one saw through the facade he was putting up. If he had to admit he was a weak bitch that cried over some stupid crush, he would kill everyone in the room and then himself if that’s the last thing he does. No way in hell is he letting his strong, tough, intimidating image down. Time after time, he would tell people he didn’t give a fuck about you. That you were just another extra in his life. Just another stepping stone to his inevitable victory. The time you overheard him telling Kirishima you were just another obstacle in the way of his success made your heart shatter into a million pieces. You slowly started to let him go, not wanting to let yourself get hurt anymore by his words. Everyone acted like they fell for his white lies, as if they were dumb enough to not hear the audible hint of pain in his usually shameless voice. He really did all this, just to convince himself to move on from these useless feelings that ate him up from the inside. His usually unfriendly self became extra hostile, shutting out everyone that tried to help him. He was increasingly aggressive with each passing day, letting out all the pent up anger and bitterness onto his classmates. At that point, Midoriya was so scared that he requested for a seat change from Aizawa. Almost nobody dared approach him. Some even begged for him to be excluded from sparring and training, although it was unsuccessful. It was guaranteed, without question, that whoever was going against him was going to be beaten to a pulp, bloodied and battered, burn marks everywhere on their bodies. In some instances, All Might had to step in, and even he suffered a few nasty blasts from the ash blond. Even you were getting irritated by his irrational actions, occasionally calling him out for it, much to his dismay. This was the last thing he wanted. For you to slowly break away all the bonds you two made. For you to take another person’s side, without even thinking about how he felt.

Walking out from his quick shower, he sat on his bed, grabbing his phone and going through your chat again, as if the ‘seen’ at the bottom of the wall of good morning and goodnight texts will magically disappear and replace itself with your replies. Groaning, he throws his phone onto the wall, letting it fall back onto his mattress as he shoves his face into his hands.

Since the time you heard him call you an obstacle, you started to let go of the friendship you had made with the fiery teen. He held a special place in your heart. He was your first, and best friend. You two shared everything during those late night talks you had through FaceTime. If you had to choose between Todoroki or Bakugou, you would save the latter first. The moment you realised Todoroki was your soulmate, you were ecstatic. Your fat crush on the aloof boy was a known thing around 1-A, and the fact that you were lucky enough to get him as your soulmate made all the girls jealous. However, things took a turn when Bakugou started to go back to his cold self. He stopped calling you after school. He stopped walking you home. He stopped trying to keep a conversation with you, only replying with the driest responses he could muster up. You didn’t know what was up with him, but it was annoying you. The one time you were looking to confront him, you overheard his conversation with Kirishima. “She’s just an obstacle.” “A stepping stone to my victory.” “I don’t fucking care about her.” It was as if everything you have done to befriend him was for nothing. He only thought of you as some extra. Nothing more. You were pissed, definitely. He was acting cold, ignoring you, all because he never cared. You made up your mind, and sent him one last text.

“If you didn’t care about me then we should’ve never became friends.”

And with that, the friendship that you two put so close to heart was erased from your life, never to be seen again as you left his side and joined with Todoroki.

This is the last straw for Bakugou. He yells into his hands. Nobody’s home, and even if somebody were in the house, he doesn’t care. He screams until his lungs give out, his voice reducing to a raspy groan after ten whole minutes of screaming. He was mad at himself. He was mad at his fate. Why did it have to take away the best thing that happened to him? Why did you have to land in the hands of Todoroki? Just the thought of it fills him with anger, sparks emitting from his palms as his sight is clouded by red. Scrambling onto his bed, he sends punch after punch towards his pillow, activating his quirk and letting the fabric burn as he continues the assault on the pillow, feathers now flying all around him as he screams, tasting his own tears. He doesn’t care about his pillow being completely demolished. He has extras at home anyways. Throwing the now tattered pillow onto the floor, he grabs a new one and shoves his head into it, sniffling into the cool material. “Why do I feel like this? How can one person ruin everything for me? Why is this happening? What kind of God does this to people? Why do I care anyways?” His eyes widen as he realises what he just confessed to himself. “No. I don’t care. I don’t fucking care at all. I don’t care. Not a shitty single fucking bit.” His heart aches when he says that, as if it’s mocking him for trying too hard to convince himself to believe something that was completely untrue. The ash blond thrashes wildly on his bed out of frustration, kicking his sheets away and muffling his strained screams into the clean pillow. “Stop, stop, stop, stop, STOP! WHY? CAN’T YOU JUST GET OUT OF MY HEAD FOR A FUCKING DAY? JUST A FUCKING SECOND? PLEASE?” Pulling his sleeve up, he stares at the words “Zero Gravity” in disgust. Bringing his free hand up, he activates his quirk, sending a scorching burn to the words as he hisses in pain, flinching a little bit. The soul mark is now a shade of pink, but the words are still clear as day. He knows he screwed up bad with you, but what could he do about it? You’re happily dating your soulmate, and all ties between you two have been cut off. All his texts have been left on seen. You have stopped talking to him. With that, Bakugou knew what he had to eventually come to terms to.

He cares. He cares too much. 

All the times he’s said “I don’t fucking care” were just pathetic attempts to forget about the cruel truth, even just for a moment.

You’re never going to go back to him.

Todoroki is your boyfriend.

And he was just another classmate to you.

References:

Idfc- Blackbear

Lyrics to said song

A whole lotta brainstorming because oh my god my angsts are becoming more and more predictable and repetitive and I hate it ahahhaha

Tags:

@ewfilthymundane @izzyphantomgamer @artsamber @sunshines-and-tatertots @tiger1719 @inlwlevi @burnt-tomato @just-another-bored-writer @macaronnv @random-fandomlover @kaylacinderella @justachillgirl @for-ests @bokutokoutarou @trashcanweeb @itmekisuu @poppirocks @xonfusedsoul @shoutsukii @estherwritess @talks-a-lot-of-stuff @fullmetalfangirl21​ @mariechan123​ @agentvicinity​ @sakusasgarbage​ @tiredgr3mlin​ @letshaikyuu​ @emsvegetables​

Have fun reading this love ya sorry for not writing anything in days and uh I’m gonna go to sleep now because I have school and I need at least 5 hours:D

[damn-behzinga]

Falling On The Battle Field

Ethan Payne Centric

Part two of Losing The War Against Himself

summary - Ethan tries to take his own life, the sidemen try to cope.

warnings - attempted suicide, talks of mental health issues, angst, graphic description of violence

masterlist/request info

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

Ethan was sat on the sofa with his friends after the video shoot. He felt his sadness push in and he wanted to escape the situation as soon as possible. He wanted this feeling to stop, he wanted everything to stop. Ethan knew he had to take control. He knew it. And so, Ethan suddenly stood up and grabbed his coat.

"Sorry boys, I've got to go." He whispered. "You know, film a video, have a bath, and whatever."

"Ethan, you've been quiet all day," Vik said as Ethan walked towards the door. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be okay." Ethan smiled softly, checking the time on his phone - 1:54 PM - quickly before pocketing it.

"Are you sure?" Simon questioned bluntly.

Ethan froze, staring the wall. He never lied to his friends, that's just how he was. Ethan was a lot of things but not a liar.

"Yeah." Ethan gulped, surprising himself when he lied. "I'm just tired."

"Okay, we were gonna do a call later for some brainstorming," Josh informed, smiling softly. Ethan nodded and left the flat after saying his goodbyes.

He rubbed his eyes before he started driving home, stopping at Tesco. He put his hood up and made his way into the store. He grabbed a basket and walked down the aisles to collect his items. He grabbed a couple of bags of sharpeners before making his way to the sweets aisle. He grabbed some packets of Haribos before making his way to the medicine aisle to grab sleeping pills. He knew that he should only buy a pack or two. He walked to the cleaning supplies and picked up a bottle of bleach and laid it in the basket.

"Oh, um, Ethan?" A small voice asked. Ethan turned and saw a girl no older than nineteen, standing shyly. "Is it all right if I can get a picture? It's cool if not."

"Yeah, that's all right." Ethan smiled. "what's your name?" He asked.

"Oh, my name is Lily." She smiled extending her phone to take a selfie. Ethan immediately posed by throwing up a 'gang' sign which made Lily laugh and do it too. "Thank you, I hope you're having a good day."

Ethan chuckled and smiled at her, "I hope yours is going well. Have you been busy?" He asked. Lily seemed surprised by his effort to make conversation but Ethan knew that this would likely be his last fan interaction and he wanted to go off with a bang.

"Um not really. Mum wanted to go out shopping and I happened to join." She smiled softly.

"It's good that you came along." Ethan smiled. "Otherwise we would never have met."

Lily giggled and her eyes flickered down to his basket and Ethan didn't fail to notice. He moved the basket so it was hiding behind his back, hoping she didn't connect the dots. Her eyebrows furrowed and she said, "I've been watching you since 2015 and I think you have been so incredible. I used to have really bad mental health problems but I have grown to love who I am. I think watching your weight loss has heavily inspired me."

Ethan swallowed thickly. "Thank you." He felt tears pool in eyes and nodded at the girl.

"It's so nice watching you and the other guys just being you. It's so relieving, especially for us lonely lot." Lily chuckled. "I think it's so nice that you have a real relationship. I can't wait to see where you lot go."

"I appreciate that." Ethan smiled. "I'm sorry. I have to go."

"Thank you for the photo." Lily smiled. "Have a nice day."

"You too." Ethan waved and made his way to the checkout. Ethan was thankful that the self-checkout existed so he didn't have to make awkward contact with the worker.

Ethan put the bag in the car and he gripped the steering wheel and let out a sob. "Fuck!" He started slapping the wheel and let out a broken sob. "I don't want to do this." He looked over at the bag and stared. He shook his head and drove home, racing to his flat.

Ethan very hastily recorded a video and tidied his room. He didn't want anyone to struggle cleaning after he was done. He threw on some shorts and his old top before making his way to his bathroom. He got a text from Charlie which immediately reminded him to let him know that it was okay for him to stay with his family longer if needed. Ethan turned the hot water up and laid down. A small sob escaped his trembling his lips. He studied the blade before pressing it against his wrist. He swallowed thickly and dug the blade into his skin.

"This is it." He muttered. He then felt tears escaped his eyes. His wrists ached as blood oozed out of it, he watched carefully when he felt nausea rise to his throat but he swallowed it away and reached for his phone. He knew all the other boys were in a group call trying to come up with new ideas. He joined the call and soon there were cheers for his arrival. Ethan was scared, he didn't want this. He hadn't said goodbye.

"Ethan, what do you think about the Cal's in another video?" Josh asked as he joined.

"Boys, boys." Ethan cried out. "I need help, I-"

"What happened?" Simon asked and the call suddenly went silent.

"I need help. I didn't mean to cut too deep. I'm gonna die." Ethan sobbed. "I need an ambulance."

"Ethan-" Harry gasped.

"It hurts so fucking bad, there's so much blood." Ethan stuttered. "I'm gonna miss you guys a lot." Ethan cried. "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

"Can you tell us what happened?" JJ asked.

"I just wanted it to stop." Ethan sobbed.

"No, Ethan, no, please! It's okay!" Tobi whimpered.

Ethan tried to relax his breathing but he couldn't stop the tears from escaping as he stared at his wrist.

"Ethan, what is your new video about?" Vik asked.

"Um, I tried a workout that Freezy and Lux made for me," Ethan whispered.

"Can you tell me about it?" Vik questioned.

"They made me do a shit ton of press-ups. My arms ached so bad and I couldn't do it all." Ethan chuckled weakly, his words started slurring. "I had to do a lot of squats, almost collapsed."

"How did the Cal's react?" Vik asked.

"They laughed at me," Ethan said. "I don't know why but-"

Ethan trailed of suddenly quieting.

"Ethan, are you still there?" Vik asked.

"'M tired. Wanna go to sleep." Ethan slurred, his eyelids fluttered. "I think I'm gonna sleep."

"No, c'mon Ethan. Stay with us." Harry begged. "If you wake up, I'm gonna upload something embarrassing on your channel."

"Go ahead. I don't care. Need to upload my goodbye video anyway." Ethan said.

"Goodbye video?" Tobi asked, voice high with confusion and worry.

"Made a video so I could explain it," Ethan mumbled. "Boys why is there banging at my door?"

"Ethan, hold on," Harry whispered.

"I wanna sleep."

"Don't go to sleep!"

"I'm going to sleep." Ethan's eyes fluttered shut and he dozed off.

JJ had never been properly scared. Sure, he had been nervous but he always switched it to adrenaline and made sure he saw the positive. He always knew the logic behind things and chances. He wasn't book smart but he knew how to see things to see what matters in the matter. He wasn't scared when his grandma was told she had a deadly illness, he knew the chances were low of her survival and so when she did pass, he was just happy she wasn't in pain anymore. But, JJ was terrified. His friend, by the time that he got to the flat, could be dead.

JJ ran into the flat with Simon close behind him, trying to unlock the bathroom door.

"Move back." He ordered and Simon did as he said stepping back. JJ hurried, knowing every second could count, slammed his foot on to the door. The door only shook slightly so JJ did it again, harder, a dent appeared in the door. One final kick and JJ's foot shot through the door and he fell forward slightly. He quickly pulled his foot out and fumbled with the lock and unlocked the door.

JJ surprised himself when he realised that he sprung into action and grabbed towels and pressed it against Ethan's wrist.

"Ethan, can you hear me?" Simon asked as he shakily held on to one of the wrists. JJ nodded at Ethan's chest and let out a shaky breath.

"He's breathing," JJ said. "Can you see how long the ambulance is gonna be? I'll keep ahold of these."

Simon just nodded and grabbed his phone out of his pocket and joined the group Discord call again. "Boys, we're with him now. Do you know how long they'll be?"

"Josh said they're pulling up soon," Tobi answered. As if on cue, JJ heard the doorbell. Simon sprinted to the door and guided them to the bathroom.

JJ blocked out what happened next, allowing Ethan to get rushed to hospital with no knowledge of what was going to happen. JJ and Simon arrived after the other guys and JJ collapsed into the seat and put his head in his hands. He was trying to block out Harry and Tobi's crying, he wanted to process what had just happened a mere few minutes ago. He jumped when a hand rested on his shoulder. JJ glanced up and saw Simon holding a blanket with a smile on his face.

"The receptionist said that you might want to cover that up." Simon nodded towards the blood that had spilt on to his top. JJ took the blanket before resting back. Simon sat beside him and took a deep breath.

Simon had always felt responsible when things went wrong. So, as he sat on an uncomfortable chair in the middle of the hospital, he looked back on his day and noticed everything that had happened. He imagined a scenario where Ethan hadn't resorted to taking his life. He thought about how he should've pushed more when he noticed Ethan was acting off. But he didn't. And if Ethan died, Simon knew he would never be able to get rid off that guilt.

Simon broke out of his thoughts when he heard a sob rip from Harry. He sighed and made his way over, wrapping an arm around Harry.

"He'll be okay," Simon whispered.

Harry sniffed and nodded. There had never been a major death in his family. Sure, he had the odd grandparent or uncle he never truly knew but he never felt so much sadness due to the idea of death. He was uncertain whether his friend would come out of this alive and that ruined Harry the most. He was upset that they couldn't contact Ethan sooner, he was upset that he didn't know, and he was upset that he may walk out of the hospital with the knowledge that his friendship group would shrink by one. He was so heartbroken that his friend didn't reach out and tell them how he was feeling.

Harry glanced over to Vik, who's foot was tapping anxiously as he continued to glance around.

"Vik, keep breathing," Harry muttered softly.

Vik just closed his eyes shut and ran through every event that had lead up to where they were. He tried to piece it together as if it were some puzzle that had been scattered across the floor. Why hadn't Ethan said anything? Had Vik been that bad of a friend? Did he miss all the signs? Vik's answers came up short as he desperately tried to figure out his confusion. There were so many moments where he thought Ethan was getting better. And he wondered if he had said something that had caused the final push. What were they going to tell the fans? There was so much Ethan was excited for, what were they going to do now?

Vik closed his eyes and let out a long breath when he heard muttering from Tobi beside him. Vik knew not to interrupt as Tobi prayed so he simply whispered, "Please, God."

Tobi linked his hands together, the cross of his necklace held tight between his palms as he recited a prayer and desperately tried to connect to his God. Ethan had to survive, they had got to him on time. Tobi continued whispering prayers under his breath as he waited for what he desperately wanted to be good news. He hoped his God would save the friend who was trying to leave far too soon. He was reminded of his mum who would always tell him that if you have hope, good things would come. Tobi had to remain hopeful, his God, alongside the hard-working doctors would save Ethan, he prayed they would.

Tobi looked over to Josh who was staring blankly at the floor and Tobi placed a hand on his friend's arm. "Josh. It's okay."

Josh felt disconnected to the ground. As he looked at all of his friends, he tried to remember when they all had become so close, all huddled together. He hated hospitals, it always felt like a new universe to him. As if reality had shifted as soon as he walked through the doors. It also felt strange to know that, a few rooms away, his friend, who Josh truly believed to be one of the best people he knows, laid dancing on the line of life and death. Josh didn't know how to cope and he started to go through ideas and his schedule in his head. He tried desperately to forget the reason they were there, knowing if he overthought it, he would have a panic attack or run away. He knew he couldn't forget but he was just so afraid.

"Um, the family of Ethan Payne?" The doctor asked and the boys all stood up. "He's alive and stable. We need to get blood transfusion so he has a few IVs in him at the moment. It may be scary but he's alive. I just wanted to ask a few questions? If you're in the state to answer." The men just nodded. "So he cut his wrists in a bathtub. Has he ever had suicidal tendencies before?"

"Um, he's harmed before. And he's thought about it but never-" Vik swallowed thickly. "He's never tried."

"Okay, does he see a therapist? Or used to see a therapist?" The doctor asked after jotting notes down.

"Yes," Josh answered. "He saw a therapist once a week but I don't know if he's gone in the last few weeks."

"Will he have enough money to see a therapist?" The doctor asked and the boys nodded. "Okay, you can see him now and I'll finish the questions later."

"Thank you. For saving him." Simon said quietly. "His mum lives a few hours away, we're the only other family he has."

"I'm just doing my job." The doctor smiled as he led them outside the room. "Just a warning, he's now got two scars on his wrists. They are bandaged and will stay bandaged but if you need to understand that they'll be big and not pretty. We may have to keep Ethan in for twenty-four hours but he's alive."

The doctor opened the door and the men walked in to see Ethan in bed asleep, several wires going into his arms. Harry gasped and Tobi let out a small cry.

"He won't be awake for forty-five minutes to an hour so I would recommend you maybe grab some of his stuff he'll want and some food for you all. Here's a list of things he'll be allowed." The doctor handed them a piece of paper and smiled softly. "Try not to bring anything he can hurt himself with. Any wires and whatnot, make sure you take it home with you."

"Thank you again." Tobi smiled. The doctor just nodded and left the room. The group all looked at each other and sighed.

"So should we do three of us go get his stuff and the other three go pick some food up?" JJ suggested.

"Um yeah. I'll go to his place." Tobi took a deep breath. Josh and JJ both decided to go alongside Tobi as Harry, Simon, and Vik went to the store.

The stopped at JJ and Simon's flat so JJ could change out his bloody clothes. He threw the clothes away and walked out in a hoodie instead. The three were on edge as the walked into Ethan's flat, a new feeling bubbling in their chests.

They quickly made their way to Ethan's bedroom and picked up a few of the things they know Ethan would want. His AirPods, his Switch, his laptop, and his-

"Jide, Where's his phone?" Tobi asked. JJ sucked in a breath.

"The bathroom." JJ stuttered.

"I'll go get it." Josh smiled softly, knowing how JJ would react. JJ and Tobi nodded as the continued looking for whatever they may find that Ethan would want. Tobi was searching the desk when he noticed a USB stick lying neatly next to his computer. Tobi put the USB stick in his pocket and continued looking as Josh returned with Ethan's phone.

Simon, Vik, and Harry were picking out snacks as they all thought about what Ethan would want and would help him recover. They packed up the food before quickly making their way back to the hospital, the last thing they wanted was to hear Ethan had woke up alone.

When they all re-met in Ethan's hospital room, they had a few snacks, all sat at whatever part of the small room they could find space in. After a few minutes of silence, Tobi pulled out the USB and held it out in front of him.

"Should we watch it?" He asked his friends.

"I think we should," JJ said.

"It will give us more of an insight as to why." Josh agreed.

Tobi pulled out Ethan's laptop and praised silently that he remembered Ethan's password before plugging the USB into it. The file only took a few seconds to download and Tobi opened it.

He placed the laptop in front of the friend group who was all crowded around it on the floor.

"I'm assuming if you're watching this you're looking for a why." The on-screen Ethan swallowed thickly and took a deep breath. "I am so tired. I did not give up, I promise. I battled as hard as I could, I swear. Nothing I did was good enough. I tried to make my mum proud, and the boys proud. And they always told me they were but I never felt it. I tried so hard not to try this way of ending but I realised that this was my best option. I'm not good enough."

Tobi paused the video and closed the laptop. "I can't watch this."

"Me either." Harry sighed.

"Okay, let's just-" Josh suddenly gasped. "Shit, has anyone spoke to Ruth?"

Mumbles broke out within the group and Vik hastily pulled out his phone, stepping out the room to talk to Ruth. They all felt silence wash over them as they waited for their friend to wake.

Another few minutes past, they heard groans and confused mumbles coming from Ethan. JJ ran to get the doctor as Ethan started crying, his eyes darting around as he trembled. Tobi and Josh tried to calm Ethan down, explaining that he was okay and alive. The doctor walked in with JJ and calmed Ethan down. Ethan wrapped his hand around his wrist, gritting his teeth in pain.

"Would you like some painkillers?" The doctor asked softly. And Ethan nodded as tears escaped his eyes. Ethan took the painkillers with water and the doctor said, "Open your mouth please, I need to do a cheek check."

"Why?" Ethan asked before opening his mouth.

"We need to make sure those who try to commit suicide don't store their medication in their cheeks." The doctor said before giving him the all-clear.

"Can I ask you some questions?" The doctor asked and Ethan nodded slightly. "Okay, I'm going to have to ask you six to leave the room please." The six friends nodded and turned before leaving the room.

"Okay, so, were you originally trying to commit suicide? Or was it an accident?" The doctor asked.

Ethan felt sick, tapping his fingers against his thighs. "It was originally and then I freaked out and called my friends, who I assume called an ambulance?"

"Well, it was your friends JJ and Simon who got to your flat before the paramedics. They saved your life." The doctor explained and Ethan let out a sob. "Have you tried to take your life before?"

"When I was fifteen but that was over ten years ago. Since then I've only thought about it and hurt myself." Ethan explained honestly.

"Okay. Have you been diagnosed with any mental disorders before?" The doctor asked.

"Um depression," Ethan answered quietly. "That's what I was diagnosed with after my first attempt."

"Anything else?" The doctor asked and Ethan shook his head. "Okay, your mum has been contacted and she is on her way in the next few hours. We need to keep you here for a day to make sure you are okay. I have lists of recommended therapists and hope you'll get better."

"Thank you." Ethan rubbed his eyes to clear his tears before the doctor welcomed his friends back in.

They all stood awkwardly before Ethan whispered a small, "Thank you. I regretted as soon as I did it."

"I thought we were going to lose you!" Harry sobbed as Ethan pulled him into a hug.

"I'm sorry, bog," Ethan muttered. "I was just so tired." His voice broke as a sob escaped.

"Please, never do that again," Simon begged.

"I felt so-" Ethan paused, trying to find the right words. "I just felt like nothing I did was good enough. I tried to fight, I did. I saw the therapist and I tried the exercises but nothing was working. So, I tried to make everything stop. It was so hard." Ethan was crying, his words slurring together as he sobbed.

The friends could only watch, their heart was breaking at the sight.

"Ethan." Josh frowned. "We are always here for you. We would do anything for you. If you ever feel like this again, please, talk to us. Or your therapist. None of us has ever been so scared in our lives."

"I'm sorry." Ethan whimpered.

"You're here now. And you are alive and breathing. That's what matters right now okay?" JJ said and Ethan nodded shakily.

"You're going to have scars," Tobi said. "And you'll probably hate them for a while but they're going to show you that you are a survivor."

"I don't know if I'll ever want to look at them again," Ethan said honestly. "And the fucking fans will comment on them. Fuck, have you told them anything?"

"Ethan, the fans can wait," Vik said. "You are far more important."

"Am I?" Ethan asked.

"Of fucking course!" JJ exclaimed.

Ethan was taken aback and just looked down at his lap. 

"You're good enough, Ethan. I promise." Simon whispered.

Ethan just nodded, not fully believing the love he received from his friends. He didn't know if he ever would but as he sat in the hospital bed surrounded by his friends - his brothers - he felt relief that he had woken up in hospital rather then not woken up at all.

[aficwhore]

Truth Is (Chapter 4)

Chapter 4: Dangerously Dangling

Frankie "Catfish" Morales x F!reader

Summary: When Fish and 'Chip' find the money, the gang erupts with glee. But little did the team know, someone had a few tricks up their sleeve, leading to disaster.

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings: explicit language, blood, violence, guns/weapons, lots of angst and emotions, infidelity?, smut, sexual themes/innuendos, drinking, mentions of drugs, talk of death/death itself, and talk of mental health (PTSD and depression.

A/N: A short chapter...Don't hate me, it's all part of a plan, I promise <3

We both held our breaths, each holding a baggy of neatly stacked money. Our eyes remained locked, the gears in our brains turning simultaneously.

"Damn it!" Pope's voice broke the silence down the hall.

Frankie peeled his gaze from mine as he lightly tossed the money up and down in his hand. "Pope." He spoke, trying to alert our friend. He moved his lips again to speak, but he fell silent in shock.

"Pope. Pope! Pope?!" I screamed, growing loud with each pass of his nickname. The sound of boots and heavy footsteps grew louder, until they reached us.

Benny and Santi burst into the room. "What-" His sentence cut short at the sight before them. Both their eyes flickered from between the cash in my hand, Frankie's and I's faces, and the gaping hole full of money in the wall. "You're joking."

I shook my head as I threw the bag towards him and spun to face the hole once again. Frantically I began to rip the sheetrock off the wall, hearing it crack and crumble below me as it fell to the floor.

My wrath against the wall had revealed the contents full of stacks of green. "Someone help me! Now!" I squeaked, kicking holes in the structure and tearing pieces of the room apart. Hearing Tom and Will finally join us, I began to laugh in relief.

We actually found the money, it was all here, But not for much longer, suck it Lorea.

"Holy fuck! There has to be well over 5 million in this one room!" Benny boomed, pulling large amounts of money out and shoving it into our cargo bags.

"Then that means-" I trailed off, turning and darting to the next room. Running into the adjoining room, I grabbed a heavy lamp from an end table and broke the shade off. With a loud grunt I swung the lamp into the wall, watching the weight crash through the thin surface. "Arrg." I expressed, tugging at the makeshift tool, unsticking it and giving it another go. Once satisfied, I chunked the furniture aside and began yanking pieces off again, revealing more money.

"We're gonna need more bags boys!" I cheered, toppling the stacks from the hiding space and out onto the floor. "How much money did she say there was?!" I questioned, shoveling the money into my own bag.

"She said anywhere from 10 to 90 millions!" Pope exclaimed, charging into the room with extra carrier bags. "Jesus fuck." He said, in disbelief. "I didn't think she was serious."

I huffed with excitement, "If you don't fuck her as a thank you, I will." I joked, hurriedly filling up as much as I could.

"Remind me to do that, we need to hurry! Our time window is closing, then we gotta burn it all." Pope laughed in a worried manner. I tugged the straps of several bags and hauled them over my shoulder, moving as fast as I could. I ran out the room and down the stairs, making sure not to fall. I made it to the loading area, where Will stood in the back of a cargo van, pulling in bags that the boys previously left to go back and grab more.

"Here." I told Will, throwing the bags into the pile and making my way as fast as I could back to the rooms. The mansion rang with howling and whooping from the rest of the gang. "This is a fucking dream!" I yelled when I bounded into the second room, grabbing another empty bag and stuffing it full.

"Let's go! Time's up!" Frankie yelled from the other side of the wall.

"I'm just getting this one! I'll be right behind you! Just go!" I responded, trying to scavenge the rest of the stacks into the last bag.

"You better be!" He yelled, heading down to the vans, with Benny right behind him.

I giggled to myself, this couldn't be real, how easily we got in, and now how easily we're getting out. We have more than 50 million dollars loaded.

My thoughts are interrupted by a voice, "Let's go Chip." Tom spoke, wrapping a hand around my arm and standing me up.

"Hold on Tom, we can fill this last one." I frantically pulled away, reaching for the bag.

"I don't care about that right now." His voice deepened menacingly.

"But-" I spoke, but was cut off when he yanked me to him, while he walked quickly out the room and over to the banisters that ran above the foyer. I attempted to free myself but his grip tightened and he placed one of his hands over my throat. "Tom what the fuck." I struggled.

"You cost me so much, and you got to get a taste of the money, too bad you won't get to experience it." He spat in my face, beginning to choke me. "You took away my friends, the only family I had left. And yet you still get to get rich and live lavishly after this. Not anymore you whore. I'm gonna fake your death, right here right now." A wicked grin grew on his rugged face.

"No!" I choked out, gasping for air and trying to loosen his hand on my neck. "Ahhh!" I screamed, fighting harder against him.

"They can't hear you." He laughed, forcing me closer to the edge, bending my back over the railings. "Maybe you can beg for your life. Go on, beg." He continued.

I gathered a much breath as I could, "Fuck. You." I spit harshly onto his face, causing him to flinch and his face to contort with disgust.

"Bye bye bitch." Tom whispered, trying to flip me over the edge. I screamed as loud as I could, using all the force I could to get him off of me. His hand squeezed impossibly tighter around me, leading to stars filling my vision, my head becoming fuzzy and light.

My limbs grew heavier with each passing second, fighting became harder. I could feel Tom lifting my body on the banister, ready to shove me over when a shot rang out.

My vision turned black. "Let go of her!" What seemed like Frankie's voice yelled. Followed by Will and Santi yelling.

In seconds, Tom's vice grip on my neck loosened, shooting me back into reality, toppling me over the rail. I screamed, grabbing at the wood, attempting to catch it before I fell 20 feet. My arms jolted to a stop, pain searing my shoulders from bearing the weight of my body as I dangled.

"Fuck!" I yelled, feeling Will and Benny right below me, grabbing my legs and telling me it was okay to let go. I landed in their arms, blood rushing to my arms, causing me to grunt out in pain.

"What is wrong with you?" Frankie screamed at Tom as he made his way to him and forced him to his stomach and on the ground. Will and Benny carried me out to the vans as Frankie pulled out zip ties and tied Tom's hands behind his back.

"Are you okay Chip?" Benny asked me, concerned.

As he and Will put me into the passenger side of one of the vans, I answered. "No-fuck- my arms felt like they were going to rip off." I groaned, pulling my arms up into my chest and throwing my head back into the headrest.

"Why the fuck would he- how dare he." Will spoke, trying to understand what just happened.

Neither of us said anything as I sat there, trying not to cry from pain. They both looked at me with concerned eyes.

"Get in! We need to go!" Santi ran out to us, hopping in the second van, Will And Benny following shortly behind.

As I gathered my thoughts and slowed my breathing, two loud bangs sounded from the manor, causing the three men to whip around and jump out of the van in fear.

It felt like my heart stopped, worry pounded in my head as I shifted in the seat to view the doors to the foyer, only to see flames erupt inside.

I gasped in fear, seeing a figure come out, dragging what seemed to be, another person.

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