#i'm the image of perfect mental health thanks

[cetoddle-archive]

everyone!!!!!!!! i’ve made it a whole entire day without crying !!

[canisalbus]

I really appriciate how often Machete is depicted struggling and feeling like a burden, while still being loved and supported by Vasco. It gives the top tier angst of "i'm not good enough, I'm not worth it" but you frame it in such a way where it's clear that's just how he *feels* and is not how things really are, but also it's so nice to see someone who struggles quite often in a loving and unique relationship that suits them. The narrative of not being able to love or be loved unless you're consistently healthy is really tiring lol.

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[verdantcrimson]

Kanna Natsu Idol Story - 2

Written by: Akira

Season: Spring

TL: verdantcrimson

Proofread: @revuestarlight

[Two years since ES was established. In the ES building infirmary.]

Kanna: ……

Hinata: Goood morning!

Yuta: Today, we’re thinking of playing a hidden camera prank on the talk of the town, child prodigy, Kanna Natsu, when he wakes up!

Hinata: Because both of us in 2wink love pranks!

Yuta: —and since we've been in the business for the while, the agency was like, “C'mon, show your junior how things work around here. You guys love that sort of stuff, right?” 

Hinata: There's a difference between playing a prank and bullying, though!

Yuta: But we can't disobey the agency. That's just life, y'know? We've gotta work hard and pull this off in order to maintain our character image.

Hinata: Why do you seem weirdly pumped about this, Yuta-kun?

Yuta: This guy is Kanna Natsu, y'know…… Everyone's making a fuss about what a genius he is, but he's still just a brat, and seeing him get more attention than us pisses me off.

Yuta: We've gotta punish this ill-mannered newbie, don't we?

Hinata: Whoops, it's getting hard to keep my brother's wickedness in check these days, yknow~?

Hinata: Ah, but he's acting like this on purpose because that's the kind of image he's decided on! Yuta-kun is actually a good kid!

Hinata: All of you watching at home, please don't misunderstand!

Yuta: Hell yeah, that's the perfect excuse. Now, no matter how cruel and inhumane I behave, I can just say it's because my agency or my producer told me to play that sort of character.

Yuta: I can use that to justify my bullying. Hehehe. 

Hinata: How wicked… Looking at you these days makes your big brother worry, Yuta-kun.

Hinata: …..Hm?

Kanna: ……

Kanna: ……?

Hinata: I knew this would happen. Look, look, Yuta-kun! Natsu-kun is awake already! 

Yuta: Huh, No way. He looked like he was fast asleep— Maybe we made too much of a racket?

Hinata: What should we do? Should we abort mission? I didn't really want to do an unfunny and old-school prank like that anyways, so I'm fine with it.

Yuta: It sounds like you were making a fuss on purpose so that the plan would fail.

Kanna: Good morning.

Hinata: Ah, yup. Morning. You sure slept well.

Kanna: Yes, thank you. Though sleeping isn't something I do for leisure.

Kanna: I don't get the opportunity to sleep when I'm occupied with research, so I try to sleep as much as I can whenever I find time.

Kanna: Also, if I pretend to be asleep, everyone will leave me alone.

Hinata: Oh, so you were just pretending to be asleep? Then, did you realize we were trying to prank you?

Kanna: Yes. Though, even when I'm asleep, one half of my brain stays awake.

Yuta: Are you a dolphin?

Hinata: That's so genius-core.

Kanna: I think anyone could do it with enough training. 

Yuta: Tsk tsk tsk. It's exactly because all that training is so tedious that nobody would ever be able to make a name for themselves as a genius.

Kanna: I see. I understand now.

Kanna: I think that if anyone focused all their efforts on a single thing for approximately a year, they could become an expert in that field. 

Kanna: Only a child like myself would be able to concentrate on a single thing for as long as they want to, correct?

Kanna: Any adult, I mean, essentially everyone, requires time to eat, play, socialize, and maintain their physical and mental health.

Kanna: It is quite difficult to concentrate on a single thing.

Kanna: That is why they fall short of success. Yes, people who are able to do that to some extent from the very beginning— Only they are successful and lauded as geniuses.

Kanna: If everyone is limited to only being able to spend a fraction of their time on their efforts, then only those who are privileged are able to succeed and win.

Kanna: That is the reason, correct? It's logical. I can understand this.

Hinata: I've been wondering, what on earth is this kid going on about…?

Yuta: You like making theories about other people based on their behavior and then feeling like you've understood them, don't you?

Kanna: Yes. Because I'm around that age. That's adolescence, I suppose.

Hinata: Yeah, well I don't believe that! If you treated any older kid like a ‘teenage brat’ they'd get angry and rebel. They'd never admit that they're going through puberty!

Kanna: Maybe that was just the case for you, Yuta Aoi.

Hinata: … Oh? Huh? Ermm?

Kanna: It's easier to live when you believe that your ‘normal’ and the world's ‘normal’ aren't congruent.

Kanna: I've long since given up on that sort of premise.

Kanna: I'm different from everyone else. I'm certain, nothing can be done about this.

Hinata: Ummm… I'm terribly sorry if we're boring you or something, but I think there's been a misunderstanding, so let me clear it up.

Hinata: I'm Hinata.

Yuta: And I'm Yuta.

Kanna: No.

Kanna: I know about you two. The twin idols from Cosmic Productions, 2wink.

Kanna: The two of you have changed your marketing strategy as of late, with the older brother Hinata continuing to present as a cheerful a good kid—

Kanna: —While the younger brother, Yuta, differentiates himself from his older brother by growing out his hair and selling a ‘bad kid’ image.

Kanna: That is what the established theory is.

Hinata: The established ‘theory’?

Yuta: Those are just facts.

Kanna: What are illusions?

Hinata: Huh, why'd you bring that up suddenly? What are you talking about?

Kanna: An illusion, or ‘sleight of hand’, is something that takes advantage of people's imagination.

Kanna: You make the world think that ‘the twins have differentiated their appearances and begun walking separate paths.’

Kanna: That way, you can do as much deception as you please.

Kanna: The twins that are supposedly never interchangeable, swap places in secret. Older brother becomes younger brother. Younger brother becomes older brother.

Kanna: Characteristic differences in hair length can also be accounted for using wigs and such.

Kanna: People tend to assume based on their prior knowledge, that ‘the one with longer hair must be the younger brother,’ since both brothers have similar facial features and so on.

Hinata: … Even if all of that were true, what good would it do for us to impersonate each other?

Kanna: Simply put, you two probably just enjoy those sorts of tricks.

Kanna: Furthermore, there are countless merits to being able to switch places. That is probably why having twins swap places is considered taboo, even in the most hard-core of detective novels.

Kanna: It's simply too convenient. It'd be used to forge alibis to no end, because now, anything goes.

Kanna: Additionally, if you succeed at your trivial ‘swapping places’ prank, you'd be able to make a fool of the child prodigy brat that everyone is making a fuss about, correct?¹

Kanna: You'd be able to say “That kid acts like he's a genius, but he's an oblivious idiot who couldn't even notice we switched places.”

Hinata & Yuta: ……

Kanna: 2wink is a unit comprised of a ‘good kid’ older brother and a ‘bad kid’ younger brother.

Kanna: Recently, it seems as though the two of them have truly diverged and are trying to pursue their own paths.

Kanna: That is why. Even if the younger brother was specifically requisitioned for work that would earn him points or experience as a ‘good kid’— The older brother would swap in and take his place. The reverse applies as well.

Kanna: So the two of you steadily gain experience and continue growing, correct?

Kanna: You're each trying to specialize in being a ‘good kid’ and ‘bad kid’.

Kanna: Waiting for an opportunity, with nobody any wiser.

Yuta: ……

Kanna: I don't have much interest in anything. However, I find your impressive tactics very interesting. 

Kanna: I'm not trying to get in your way. However, by exposing your actions like this, I can render your footage unfit for broadcast.

Kanna: Even if what I said just now might be untrue.

Kanna: If the world's people begin to doubt you, you'll have a hard time operating. They might begin to think things like “Maybe they've swapped places?” or “Are they playing tricks?”

Kanna: All the earnest and serious people of the world will begin to view you poorly.

Kanna: That probably would not be desirable for you.

Kanna: I apologize. Being filmed and broadcasted in my sleep is quite embarrassing.

Kanna: That is why I have taken these preventative measures to keep it from occurring. Please understand that I bear no ill-will towards the two of you.

Kanna: That is all. I'm going to go back to bed now. Goodnight.

Kanna: Zzz, zzz.

Yuta: ……

Hinata: … He ended up being the real deal.

Yuta: Yeah. I figured it was just the usual hype you see on TV and magazines.

Hinata: (But really, I never thought he'd notice we ‘switched’.)

Yuta: (Yup. I thought nobody could tell. But this kid saw through us, probably just through a glimpse of our activities on the news or on the internet.)

Hinata: (To top it all off, just in case— He made sure we wouldn't get in trouble even if we did air it, by following it up with “what I said might be untrue.”)

Yuta: (He didn't want to inconvenience us, so he acted considerately.)

Hinata: (This brat sure acts full of himself. I ought to scribble on his face while he sleeps.)

Yuta: (Give it a rest already... Let sleeping gods lie, Yuta-kun.)²

Hinata: (You're such a good kid, Hinata-kun.)

Yuta: (And you’re a bad kid, right, Yuta-kun?)

Kanna: Zzz, zzz…♪

Hinata: (This kid might be incredible— more than anyone could imagine.)

Yuta: (But his sleeping face is adorable, just like any other normal kid's would be, y’know)

Translation notes

He's repeating back the same phrases that Hinata and Yuta used to describe him while he was 'sleeping'..

The original saying is '触らぬ神に祟りなし' which is means the same thing as 'let sleeping dogs lie', but I retained the 神 portion because I figured it might be a fun play on Kanna's first name '神無'

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Thank you so much for your posts defending Sirius. 🙏🙏🙏 It's so refreshing to read! I'm always a bit taken aback when people say that Sirius' projects James onto Harry tbh - or even that Harry was looking for James in Sirius. I mean, he was the connection, but that's it. They were always so clearly precious to each other (at least to me lol). Honestly, it reads to me like Harry has the least in common with James, on a deeper level. Like, sure, the surface stuff is there but their childhoods, lives and values were so fundamentally different. It's rather sad.

You're welcome and thank you for the kind words! 😊

Yeah, I love Sirius and Harry as individuals and their dynamics with each other. Like, I made it no secret that Harry's my number 1 favorite precious son, but Sirius is a close 2nd most favorite of mine. I just love Sirius a lot, especially in my more recent rereads.

Sirius isn't the image of perfect mental health (how could he be after 12 years in hell?), but he is clever and sensible and much more mature than I'd expect him to be. He so clearly has Harry as his first (and really, only) priority.

Sirius and Harry don't neatly fit into a father-son dynamic, and it's a result of both of their lives up to this point. Harry never had a parent or adult he could look up to as a parent. He was abused all his childhood, and he learned not to trust adults, and yet he trusts Sirius with everything, and he does so easily. But Harry isn't exactly looking for a father, he thinks he is, but he is too independent for that, too uncomfortable with authority of any kind. I think he trusts Sirius as much as he does because their dynamic isn't a neat parent-child one.

And Sirius was sent to Azkaban when he was 21! (younger than I am, which is insane to me) Like a 21-year-old isn't that different from an 18 or 19-year-old in behavior and development, and sure, the war matured him, I'm sure it did. But the kind of maturity war brings is not the same as being allowed to age and grow up. This means Sirius, in his head, is younger. Yes, he is an adult and he can and does act like one, but it is easier for him to connect to Harry and his friends as equals than to the older members of the Order. Like, we see him having fun talking to the younger members more than the older ones (except Remus who's an exception due to their shared past), as Azkaban did stagnate Sirius' development. He was probably quite mature even before Azkaban in ways, war does it to people, being an eldest child with a younger sibling can do it. Even before Azkaban, he was willing to lay down his life for James, Lily, and Harry with no hesitation. But he still has that early 20s behavior to him, especially in OotP when Grimmauld Place brings back all his worst and best memories while being locked there:

“Speaking of dogs,” said Snape softly, “did you know that Lucius Malfoy recognized you last time you risked a little jaunt outside? Clever idea, Black, getting yourself seen on a safe station platform . . . gave you a cast-iron excuse not to leave your hidey-hole in the future, didn’t it?” Sirius raised his wand. “NO!” Harry yelled, vaulting over the table and trying to get in between them, “Sirius, don’t —” “Are you calling me a coward?” roared Sirius, trying to push Harry out of the way, but Harry would not budge. “Why, yes, I suppose I am,” said Snape. “Harry — get — out — of — it!” snarled Sirius, pushing him out of the way with his free hand.

(OotP, 520-521)

Harry, the 15-year-old, needs to be the adult for two 36-year-olds in the above scene. It shows their dynamic isn't a neat one, it's messy and it's between two traumatized individuals who are both trying to protect each other because they are the only thing close to a family that either of them has. They both know what it is to be completely on your own, and they try to be there for each other in their own way.

Honestly, their dynamic kinda reminds me of the one I have with my mother, tbh (if less intense and with way less trauma, lol). Like, yeah, she's my mother, and she would make huge sacrifices for me, but we talk more like we're best friends and not like a mother-daughter. We go shopping together, we gossip and talk shit together like friends do (like, I'm an adult now, so it makes sense, but it was like that when I was 14-15 too). So, like, I know how a dynamic of a parent-child where the child is really mature and independent so they're sorta treated like a friend can be. And it's a lot of fun, I mean, I love my mom and we're still really close friends (although this style of parenting isn't necessarily good for everyone).

And Harry is that. An incredibly mature and independent child who doesn't actually know how to have a parent. And Sirius is not trying to be his father, he isn't trying to be James, which results in their something between a parent-child to close friends dynamic we see. But even with this, Sirius doesn't really see Harry as James, nor does he treat him as James. He sees their similarities, that do exist, but he sees Harry as Harry. Harry who is younger than he is, who he is responsible for, and who he needs to teach and protect. With James, I think it was the opposite. James was kinda the unofficial-official leader of the Mauraders, Sirius usually followed him around (so did Pettigrew and Remus) so their entire dynamic was different. As peers, yes, but, peers where Sirius would defer to James in a way he doesn't with Harry. With Harry, he listens carefully without the friendly shit-talk I'd expect him and James to have and is willing to give out advice that James likely wouldn't have asked for. He'd move heaven and earth for both of them because that's how Sirius is like when he cares about someone.

In my headcanon, how Sirius treats Harry is closer to how he treated Regulus than how he treated James. He is half in denial about it, but this half-parental half-friendly dynamic is probably close to what he had with Regulus. Like, older siblings tend to be the more responsible ones, but it's exaggerated when the parents are absent, neglectful, or generally not overly involved, even when the age difference isn't a large one. I think when they were younger, Sirius, as the heir, got more attention from his parents than Regulus who was a bit overlooked as a child. I honestly think that as children, Walburga and Orion raised Sirius and Sirius raised Regulus (in a way. And in a joint guardianship with Kreature). Baby Regulus looked up to baby Sirius and followed him around constantly and it hurt Regulus so much when Sirius left. I'm sure when they were younger, Regulus would come to Sirius with his issues and Sirius would sit and listen and try to give his advice the way we see him do with Harry.

As for Harry and James being very different on a deep level, yeah, that's definitely the case. Like, they have some surface similarities, besides their looks, but at their cores, they are very different people. I think James' priorities near his death were closer to Harry's, but they had such drastically different experiences growing up and just existing. I think Harry's anger is James' though. I mean, we see Lily when angry, she doesn't curse anyone, or get volatile, instead, she removes herself from the situation (or gets sad in some instances, like with Petunia). Lily is cold when angry. James, on the other hand, is more volatile, we see him curse in anger, cursing Snape after he calls Lily a mudblood. I think this is something Harry shares with James, his volatile temper. But his values, his priorities, his compassion, and his self-sacrificing tendencies are much more Lily than James.

[lee-laurent]

The Past - John Marino

Summary: The timeline of John and Tori's relationship

notes: This is like a prequel to 'Done Trying!' You don't have to read this part, but it gives background on John and Tori's relationship. How they got to where they are in the fic now. The part after this will be a continuation of 'Done Trying' so look for that in the next few days. Also, I do not want to hear any negative criticism about how I've written her depression. I have depression myself and this is how it manifests for me. It's different for everyone, so I don't want to see any hate. Your experience may be different than mine, but every mental health experience is valid.

content: angst, fluff, unplanned pregnancy, break ups, anxiety issues, arguments, birth (not super graphic), mentions of sex but no actual smut, depressive episode, body image issues, mentions of abortion

2019

Tori wasn't drunk by any means, just a bit tipsy. Her fake ID had worked and she was enjoying her night out with her friends. The bar wasn't particularly busy, but the girls were managing to make it feel like a party.

The group of girls all turned to look at the door as a group of rowdy men entered. They were all cheering loudly and patting each other on the back.

"Was there a hockey game tonight?" one of Tori's friends asked.

"I think so," she shrugged, downing the rest of her rum and coke. "I'm going to get another one."

"We'll be here!" one of the other girls giggled.

"Hi, could I have another rum and coke, please?" she grinned at the bartender.

"Sure thing," the man returned with the drink a few minutes later, placing it in front of her, "That'll be 6 dollars."

She reached into her back pocket, when a voice beside her stopped her, "I've got it."

She turned, looking at the man next to her. He was significantly taller than her five foot frame, with tan skin and unruly, dark curls he brushed from his eyes.

"Oh! Thank you," she grinned, taking her drink from the counter.

"I'm John."

"Tori."

"You come here often? Sorry, I know that's cliche as fuck."

"Ha! No worries, my friends and I come here some weeks. It seems your group of friends is making it a bit more lively."

"Hope we're not interrupting your night."

"Not at all. We were the only ones making noise before you guys showed up. You from around here?"

"I'm from Massachusetts. But I moved here for work. You?"

"Pittsburgh born and raised," she smiled, raising her glass up before taking a sip.

The couple continued talking for the rest of the night. Tori wasn't the hookup type though, so instead of going home with him, she gave him her number. Leading to a long line of dates, until he finally asked her out officially.

2020

The world had locked down. No more hockey. No more school. No more work. Tori had subsequently moved into John's apartment so that they would be able to spend time together during the pandemic.

"What're you making?" John asked, wrapping his arms around Tori's waist, tucking his face in the crook of her neck.

"Oatmeal cookies."

"Smells good, baby."

"How was your nap?"

"Relaxing. Would've been better if you were there."

"You know naps make me feel like shit."

"I know... but the bed feels so empty without you."

"God, you're cheesy," she grinned, lifting her hand up to run through his mop of curls. "You want me to trim these?"

"Mmm, not today. I like them long. Why? Do you not like them?"

"I love your curls, Johnny. So sexy."

He grinned, pressing a kiss to her neck.

"I'm going to play 'chel with the boys. Call if you need anything."

She nodded, turning back to rolling the cookie dough into perfect balls. She'd taken up baking during the lockdown. John kept telling her he was going to be out of shape for the next season if she kept it up, but he continued to taste test everything for her nonetheless.

Another month into the lockdown and Tori wasn't herself. She wouldn't leave bed, she was taking naps, and John could barely get her to eat. She claimed she was fine, but he didn't believe her in the slightest.

"Come on, baby. I made mac and cheese, your favourite," he tempted, sitting on the bed and running a hand through her matted hair.

"Not hungry."

"You've gotta be hungry. You haven't eaten since yesterday morning. And all you had then was a couple crackers."

"I'm not hungry. Let me sleep."

"You've been sleeping all day. Can you get up and take a shower for me?"

"Too tired."

"Tori, baby..."

She just rolled over, hiding her face in the duvet. He sighed, leaving the bedroom and going to eat the food he'd made... why let it go to waste.

"How's Victoria doing, love?" John's mom asked through the phone, worry lacing her voice.

"I can't get her to do anything except sleep. I'm trying, Mom. She just..."

"Do you know if she has a history of depressive episodes?"

"Yeah, one when she was in high school. But she said she learned skills to cope."

"Just be there for her, John. That's all I can suggest."

"Thanks, Mom."

Two hours later, Tori emerged from the bedroom. She was wearing the same clothes she had been for days and her hair desperately needed a wash to rid it of grease.

"Hi, baby," John smiled softly.

"Hi. Will you come take a shower with me?" she whispered.

"Sure, but first can you just eat a few bites of the food I made?"

"I... I don't know."

"Please, Tori. Just so I know you're eating."

"Okay."

She sat on his lap, picking at the bowl of pasta in front of them.

"Five bites and we can take a shower."

"Okay."

It took her 20 minutes to take those five bites, but she did it. The couple stood under the hot water of the shower, embracing the time together outside of their room. John helped her wash her hair and brush out all the knots. She forgot how nice it felt to feel clean. She turned in his arms, squishing her face into his torso.

"I've got you, baby. I've always got you. I love you so much."

"I'm sorry, John," she sobbed, "I've been a terrible girlfriend."

"Shh, no you haven't. You're just struggling right now. It's okay. We'll get through his together."

"I love you. I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry. I just want what's best for you. And rotting in bed isn't."

She leaned up and pressed a soft, loving kiss against his lips. When she went in for another one, he turned his head, her lips landing on his cheek.

"Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry," she cried again.

"No, no. I just... I'd feel like I was taking advantage of you. I love you so much, but I can't... do anything until you're yourself again. Okay?"

"Okay."

The next day, John helped Tori find a therapist online. Even going as far as to join sessions to learn how he could help her to help herself.

2021

Now that lockdown restrictions had been lifted slightly, Tori was thriving. She was going on daily walks and working on new coping skills to use when she felt that numbness creeping back in.

John was back to playing hockey and finally their lives had back some normalcy. A normalcy that had formed itself into a very... intimate love life for the two. There didn't seem to be a day that the two weren't having sex. Tori was pretty sure roadies were the only days they weren't falling asleep naked.

It was amazing, until it all came crashing down at the end of December. Tori had been feeling like shit for almost a week now. She felt sluggish and the sent of John before he showered after practice had her sick to her stomach. The idea of being pregnant though wasn't even a thought that crossed her mind. She had an IUD. They were safe. Surely it couldn't be...

"Do you want me to pick up a test, just in case? I know you said it's like almost impossible," John asked as he walked to his car at the arena.

"Sure, if it'll make you feel better. Pick up two, just in case one is faulty."

"Sounds good, babe. Be home in 20. Love you."

"Love you too, Johnny."

The couple stood in the bathroom, re-reading the instructions for the tests.

"I think it's self explanatory, John."

"I just want to make sure you're doing it right!" he swatted her hand away as she tried to grab the paper from him.

"Whatever," she rolled her eyes, sitting on the toilet with the stick.

"Yeah, just piss on it. Then we've gotta wait 5 minutes."

"Sounds good. You stayin' in here while I pee?" she giggled.

"I'll be right outside."

Peeing on the test was harder than she thought. It was like she couldn't get herself to pee, she was so nervous. After a couple minutes though, she'd put the caps back on and placed them on the counter.

"Come in, John. But I'm telling you, I'm not pregnant. Trusty old IUD keeps your sperm outta there."

"Maybe I've got really persistant sperm."

"I-" the timer rang. "You ready?"

"Yep."

At the same time, they flipped the tests, the plastic clattering against the sink as Tori dropped it.

"They- They must be faulty. False positive, right? Right, John?"

"I- is that a common occurance? I'll google it," he typed on his phone quickly, spelling half the words wrong, "There's less than a 1% chance of that, Tori."

"So? Maybe we're in that percentage. Did you even get good ones?"

"They were the most expensive ones! I just grabbed them!"

"They're wrong."

"Victoria..."

"Don't 'Victoria' me! They're wrong! I'm not pregnant! It's just a cold."

John rolled his eyes, "Can you at least go to the doctor? Get meds for your cold then."

"Fine! I'll make an appointment right now!"

"Perfect. I'm going to make dinner."

"I'm not pregnant," she whispered to herself as she typed in the number for her doctor.

"Is there any chance you're pregnant?" the doctor asked, staring into Tori's eyes.

"I have an IUD."

"I've seen it happen. Would you mind giving us a urine sample?"

Yay. Peeing into more things.

It didn't take long for the results to come back. The doctor entered the room holding a stack of paperwork.

"So, the urine sample came back positive for high levels of hCG. Which means you are pregnant."

"That's not possible."

"I know this is probably a lot to take in right now. I've written down some suggestions for a few OBs I reccomend. As well as some supplements we reccomend for the early stages of pregnancy. From the test, I'd say you're about three weeks."

"Shit. Um, sorry. Thank you. I'll, uh, call these numbers," Tori forced a smile, rushing off to get home.

"So? You are pregnant?" John asked, his eyebrow quirked.

"Yes. I just-"

"Okay."

"Okay? That's all you have to say?"

"What do you want me to say, Tori? 'Yay! I'm so excited to be a dad at 24!' Cause that'd be a lie."

"Stop acting like this is all my fault!"

"I never said that! I just... we've never even talked about having kids! This is all very sudden."

"How do you think I feel?! I'm the pregnant one! Now I have to tell all my friends and family that I got knocked up at 22!" she threw her purse down on the counter.

"You told me the IUD would work fine."

"Why are you blaming me? God, John! Grow up!"

"I should grow up?! You're the one yelling at me!"

"You're fucking infuriating!" she shouted, stomping off to their room. The door shut with a harsh slam, making the pictures on the wall swing.

"Fuck me," John muttered, grasping at his hair.

John slept on the couch that night, not wanting to deal with being yelled at again.

"We should talk about this, Tori," he offered at breakfast.

"Why? I'll just get the pregnancy terminated. You don't it."

"Tori... can we think about this? Make a rational decision."

"Why? Is getting an abortion not rational?"

"Not what I said. I just think you're still angry about yesterday, so you're not think rationally. We need to make a decision together here."

She rolled her eyes, "You made it clear how you feel."

"Did I?"

"Yeah, I think your words were 'I'm not excited to be a dad at 24!' So, there's our answer. You won't have to be," she sassed.

"Victoria, sit down."

"You're not my fucking dad."

"Stop acting like a child! Sit down!"

John rarely yelled at Tori, so the tone of his voice had her sitting right back down.

"Thank you. Listen, I'm not thrilled to be a dad right now, but I'm not telling you to end the pregnancy. I- we can make this work. I want you to make the final decision, but I won't be leaving if you decide this is what we're doing. I love you. And I support whatever decision you make. I will love that baby unconditionally."

"I... I need time to think about everything," she nodded, her lips pursed.

"I understand. But I really don't want to continue this arguing. I want us to enjoy our trip to Massachusetts. Not dwell on this and see our family."

"Okay, I have another appointment in January. You can come... if you'd like. I don't want to tell our families yet."

"Of course... I love you."

She sighed, "I love you too. No more fighting?"

"No more fighting," he nodded.

2022

Tori knew that nobody in the waiting area was judging her, but she felt judged. Her leg was bouncing, her nerves getting the best of her. She was filling out the paperwork that they'd given her. John placed a comforting hand on her thigh, trying to calm her.

"They're removing the IUD today. I don't know if you wanna be in there when they do it."

"I'll stay for moral support."

"Are you sure?"

"Why not," he shrugged.

Tori opened her mouth to respond when her name was called.

"Is your boyfriend coming with us today?" the nurse smiled.

"Yes, if that's okay."

"No problem! The doctor will be right in. We're going to start with the IUD removal. So if you could just strip from the waist down, she can get started."

"Do you want me to turn around?" John asked, taking a seat on the chair in the corner.

"No? Nothing you haven't seen before."

She sat down, throwing the sheet they'd.given her over her legs.

"Nervous?"

"A bit. It hurt to get in. People say it's worse coming out."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Want me to hold your hand?"

"That'd be nice," she smiled.

There was a knock at the door, "We all ready in here?"

"Yep. Come in."

"Hi, Victoria! I'm Dr. Reese. It's nice to meet you!"

"Hi. This is my boyfriend, John."

"Nice to meet you as well! We're going to start with the IUD removal, then we can start chatting about baby. Sound good?"

"Yeah. Is it okay if John holds my hand?"

"Of course! Alright, scooch, scooch. Perfect. Take a deep breath for me."

Tori inhaled, squeezing John's hand. Her eyes screwed shut. A pained breath escaped her mouth. Even John squinted, watching as the doctor pulled on the little strings.

"And done!"

"Thank God," Tori whispered.

"I'll step out! You can throw your clothes back on and I'll be back in a minute with the ultrasound machine."

"You ready?" Tori asked John, buttoning up her jeans.

"Yeah," he shrugged, sitting back down.

John and Tori had discussed things the day before. They were keeping the baby. It was an emotional discussion. Talking about the logisitcs of the whole thing. Especially with her still in school and John playing hockey.

"Ready to see baby?" the doctor smiled brightly.

"Yeah."

"Mhm."

"Alright. I warmed up the gel, it shouldn't be too bad," Dr. Reese moved the wand over Tori's lower abdomen. "And here is baby."

It looked like a little blob, but it still made John's eyes water.

"So, you're about 6 weeks. Measurements look good. I'll want to see you again around 18-20 weeks. You can schedule that on your way out. Congratulations, again."

"You alright, babe?" Tori asked, noticing how quiet John had gotten.

"Hm, yeah. I just... I didn't think I'd be this emotional. Especially over what looks like an alien."

Tori laughed, "Don't call our baby an alien!"

"I'm sorry," he giggled, wiping his eyes, "But it does look a little like an alien."

"Okay... maybe just a little."

The couple left the doctors' office laughing quietly to themselves, their hands intertwined.

Six Months Pregnant - May 2022

It was three in the morning and Tori was sobbing, "You don't understand, John. We're out of pickles."

"I heard you. I just... I don't understand why you're crying."

"I need pickles, John," she cried.

"I- I don't know where to get you pickles at 3am. Everything is closed."

Tori pulled herself out of bed, storming into the kitchen. She dug through the fridge and freezer, trying to find anything that would help her cravings. She pulled a bowl of watermelon out of the fridge, digging in.

John sluggishly joined her in the kitchen, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'll get you pickles in the morning."

She just nodded, taking another forkful of melon. It wasn't as fulfilling was a jar of mini dill pickles, but it was helping. She couldn't even count how many jars of pickles she'd gone through during her pregnancy, but this was the first time they'd been out. It felt like the end of the world to her pregnancy hormones.

John loved Tori to bits, but the emotional rollercoaster of pregnancy was beginning to make him tired. He knew it wasn't fair and that she was going through much more, but lord was he exhausted.

"Do you want me to stay here? Or should I go back to bed?"

She shrugged, shovelling more food into her mouth. John sighed, coming around the counter. He placed a hand on her waist and one on her growing stomach.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"Do you want to go back to bed?"

She hummed, taking one last bite. They shuffled back to the bedroom, Tori hugging onto her pregnancy pillow. John fucking hated the thing, but Tori couldn't sleep without it, so... he'd deal with it for the next three months.

August 2022

John had just been traded from Pittsburgh to New Jersey and now... it was time for their baby to enter the world.

"Ah!" Tori gripped her stomach. She was walking around the hospital room, waiting to be fully dilated. John was being supportive as possible, getting her more ice chips when requested and holding her hand when ever she felt a contraction. "Is it time yet?"

"The nurse said it could be a while, because it's your first."

"It's going to be our only. Holy shit! Why did you do this to me?"

John laughed, "I'm sorry, baby. You're the strongest woman I know. You've got this. Do you want to use the yoga ball again?"

"No! I just want the baby out of me!"

"And they said that the yoga ball will help that."

"Fine," she groaned, squatting down on the blue yoga ball. John smiled, watching as she bounced up and down, her cup of ice chips in her hand.

"They'll be back with the epidural soon. Then it'll be smooth sailing," he comforted.

10 hours later and she was finally pushing. She was squeezing John's hand so tight he thought it might break. But he tried to be supportive nonetheless.

"One more big push, Mama," the doctor smiled.

"I can't do it."

"You've got this, Tori," John whispered.

"I can't do it."

"Just one more push and our baby is here, love."

She braced, feeling the pressure one last time. She pushed and a wail filled the room.

"And here's baby boy."

"It's a boy?" John was smiling so wide, it hurt his cheeks.

"It is. Want to come cut the cord, Dad?"

He nodded excitedly, watching as they gave his son his first bath.

"Here you go, Mama," they placed the baby on her chest.

"Hi, baby," she was too tired to cry, but her son was so beautiful. He had a head of dark hair which explained the heartburn she'd had during the pregnancy.

"We'll be back in a bit to help you get him to latch. And then they'll be in with the name paperwork."

"Here," John smiled, unbuttoning part of her gown so she could do skin to skin.

"Riley."

"Hm?"

"Riley Alexander Marino."

"It's perfect, baby. Here, I'll hold him. You get some rest."

December 2022

Things were falling apart. The couple was arguing almost every day. Tori was struggling. She hated the way she looked and that feeling of numbness was starting to creep back in. But she wouldn't allow it, she needed to be there for Riley.

John was going through the hockey season and adjusting to a new team. He was barely home. And when he was, he was beyond tired. Not being much help at all. Night shifts were nonexisitant. It was always Tori getting up to get their son. John either "slept through it" or "was too tired from hockey."

Everything came crumbling down a week before Christmas.

"You're not any fucking help! Ever!" Tori yelled, throwing the burp cloth down on the counter. "I haven't left the apartment in days! I haven't been able to take a shower in days! All I do is take care of Riley!"

"Your his mom! Did you think you wouldn't have to take care of him?!"

"God! That's not what I meant and you KNOW it! Your his dad! When are you going to step up and actually do some fucking work?"

"I'm providing for us, Victoria! Would you rather I quit and we have no income?!"

"That's it. I'm leaving!"

"You're leaving?! Where are you going?"

"Anywhere that you aren't, John. I can't fucking deal with you right now. Call me when you've grown the fuck up and decide you actually want anything to do with your son," she stormed off to the bedroom, throwing things into a duffle bag.

"Victoria! You can't just leave! Talk to me!"

"I can leave! I can do whatever the fuck I want!"

"You- you can't just leave with Riley!"

"Sure, I can! Not like you parent him at all!"

"Victoria!"

"No! Fuck off!"

The screaming woke Riley from his nap and his wails soon filled the apartment as well.

"Great! Look what you've done!" John threw his hands up in frustration.

"What I did? You're so fucking immature. Stop acting like you're 12 and start acting like the 25-year-old you are!" Tori went to the nursery, grabbing some of Riley's things and putting them in the bag as well. She picked up her son, strapping him into his carrier. John was standing in the door, shell-shocked.

"Please, Tori. Just think about this. Please."

"No. I'll be back for more of our things in a couple days," she shook her head, leaving John all alone in the apartment.

March 2023

It was official. John and Victoria were done. Tori had gotten her own place and Riley went to see John every weekend. Slowly but surely, John and Tori were forming a friendship. They wanted things between them to be good for Riley.

And this friendship leads us to where we are now...

[collapsedglasshouses]

WOULD YOU SAY I'M WORTHY || ONE

PAIRING: Noah Sebastian x OFC ; slight Nick Folio x OFC

DIVIDER ART WORK BY @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY: When Eden meets Noah, her life is anything but perfect. Her heart is far more broken than Noah can even guess at this point. Will he be able to mend the wounds he hadn’t caused?

WARNINGS: angst, fluff, eventually smut, mentions of grief/loss, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of mental health issues, mentions of illnesses

A/N: FIRST OF ALL, COVID DOESN'T EXIST IN THIS STORY! Second, hello! :) This is a new series. We will see where this goes. Thank you for everyone joining in before it was even a real idea haha. If you liked the first part, consider reblogging it! Thank you!

TAGLIST: @measuredingold @cncohshit @lma1986 @missduffsblog @cookiesupplier @thescarlettvvitch @bngurngheart @dream-machine-love @arkiliastuff @vinyardmauro @lacktoesandtoddlerants @princessmarshmallowx

If you wanna be added to the story's taglist or to my taglist in general, leave a comment or message me privately!

The rain was pouring down with no regrets. It had been like this for a few days. And still, the bar business was booming. It was a cold Friday evening in October and Eden was done. She had been on her feet since around six in the morning and she just wanted to cuddle herself into her blanket on her small couch at home.

It wasn’t like she despised her job at the bar, but she just couldn’t feel her feet anymore. She had been pouring beer into glasses for five hours straight and there was seemingly no end. Every time she thought she had a second to herself, the next person ordered something.

On the light side, she also really hadn’t had the time to think about anything outside of work, which was the exact reason why she went for the job. She had been living in Los Angeles for about three months now. Three months of none-stop working. Three months of keeping her mind of reality.

She was doing better than she had originally thought.

As she was giving a woman her change, she noticed how the door opened. She always noticed when the door opened and she surely always noticed him. A young man in his early twenties entered the bar and shook his head for a second to get rid of the excess water in his hair. Eden felt like she could breathe for a second.

When the man lifted his gaze again, he quickly was met with Eden’s exhausted but welcoming smile.

“Eden!” The man beamed. “Thank God, you are here. I thought, you weren’t working today.”

“I’m always working, Nick.” She answered the man, as he approached the bar and set down on one of the chairs. He leaned a bit towards her with a smug smile on his face. “The same as usual.” – “Everything for you, Nick.”

She poured another beer into the glass before turning back to him and setting the drink in front of him. She didn’t even have to tell him what it cost, the money already laying on the counter, “Keep the change.”

Eden smiled to herself. Her day just got better.

“How has your week been?” Nick asked her, before sipping on his beer. Eden sighed.

“Pretty good.” She said, as she always did. “Yours?”

“A lot of stuff with the band.” He answered.

Right, the band. She knew he was the drummer of this metal band. Sometimes she forgot Nick was somewhat popular.

Eden nodded, before being called to the other side of the counter to yet pour another beer. When she went back to Nick afterwards, he was quick to gift her a sweet smile.

“What are you doing tomorrow?" Nick asked her interested.

“The same as always. Cuddling on my couch and watching some movies.” She answered him and he looked shocked. “But it’s your birthday!” – “That is the reason why I’m doing nothing out of the usual.”

Nick shook his head. “It’s also Halloween, Sunshine.” Eden smiled a little at the nickname Nick had given her other the last couple of weeks. She knew it couldn't be further from the truth, but she enjoyed the image Nick seemed to have of her in his head.

“Don’t make it even worse than it already is.” Eden breathed out, not even sure if Nick heard it over the noise that filled the room.

Eden hated her birthday. It was a hard reminder of the time just slipping through her fingers. To her, it was even worse that she was also born on a national holiday. And if that wasn’t enough, she also had her name tied to said holiday. While her name was representing some kind of delight or place of pleasure, her parents had chosen that name for her, because they thought it sounded mysterious and spooky. Fitting for Halloween.

“Oh, come on.” Nick exclaimed, snapping her out of her thoughts. She blinked at him for a second, waiting for him to continue his sentence. “Enjoy yourself for once.”

Eden rolled her eyes. As much as Nick was a delight to her, she also hated his happy spirit in moments like this.

“Okay, hear me out.” Nick said, when he saw her facial expression. “A good friend of mine is celebrating his birthday tomorrow. You should come. This way, nobody will focus on you, you can enjoy my company outside of work for once and you’re out of your little hobbit-house for once.”

Eden tapped her fingers against the counter and started to think. It had been about the fifth time that Nick tried to get her to do something with him. Since now, she had always turned him down. Not, that she didn’t want to see him, she just was scared. She liked being alone. She liked being to herself. She didn’t even speak to anyone outside of work, except her sister and her parents, but even that contact was strongly limited by her. Nick was the only one she would call somewhat a friend.

Eden ran a hand through her hair and then over her face. She was going to regret this. She just knew it.

“Okay… Just once.” She gave in and Nick clapped his hands together in excitement.

“Fucking finally!” He exclaimed. “I was really starting to think, you hated me.”

“I do not, and you know that.” She reassured him before taking another order. When she was ready with the customer, Nick’s beer was empty. She allowed herself to look at the clock that was hanging over the entrance of the bar. Her shift would end in half an hour.

“So, where should I go tomorrow?" She asked Nick, who was still smiling to himself.

“Give me your phone number and I’ll text you the address.” He answered her and reached his hand out, waiting for her phone.

For a second, she simply looked at his hand. He was getting bold.

She sighed in defense and pulled her phone from her pants to hand it to him.

Right when he handed it back, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Her boss Michael looked at her. “You can go. Anna will be here in a second.”

Eden nodded, before looking at Nick again, who stood to his feet, also ready to head out.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She exclaimed, before Nick nodded at her with a smile and left.

“The guy is cute.” Michael said to her, and she smiled a little. “Yeah, he is also a total pain in the ass.”

Michael only shrug his shoulders, before wishing her a good night and soon Eden was in her car.

It didn’t take her long to reach her apartment. She had been lucky, getting a flat close to her work. When she reached her front door and opened it, she sighed at the familiar sight of her home. Things hadn’t been easy the last couple of months. After moving to the other side of the country, she was just happy to have some peace again. She liked not living in that old house anymore, back at her hometown. Everything reminded her of her pain back there.

Not even twenty minutes later, she fell onto her couch, a bowl of instant noodles in her hand and some sitcom playing in the background, when her phone vibrated. Three messages from an unknown number.

She opened them.

?: Hey, here is Nick.

?: The party starts at 8, you have to come in a custome

?: [adress attached]

That's when it hit her.

She agreed to go to a party with a man, she barely knew, even though he was the closest she had to a friend in LA.

She was definitely going to regret it.

[danikamariewrites]

This could be smut or not, but could you do one where the reader is just having one of those days where they just don’t like their body like stretch marks on their thighs and Rhys notices and praises and spoils them?

I accidentally read to many angsty fics and I’m in need of a pick me up lol😅

Perfect

Rhysand x reader

A/n: I went with fluff and left it a little suggestive at the end. I hope this makes you feel a little better.

Warnings: mental health struggles and body image issues

Standing in front of the mirror you hold your dress up to your body. Frowning, you place the sparkly, black garment on your vanity stool. You turn from side to side taking in your body, only dressed in your bra and underwear.

Lately, you haven't been loving the way you look. More stretch marks have appeared on your thighs and butt. You feel like your stomach is a little pudgy and the bags under your eyes stick out like a sore thumb. For the past week, you haven't been very happy with your appearance. You feel like your clothes haven't been fitting right and you've been consumed with negative thoughts about yourself.

This hasn't gone unnoticed by Rhys. Usually, you talk to him about this stuff but you hadn't yet, and he was growing more and more concerned every day. Rhys strides out of the walk-in closet buttoning his shirt when he saw you frowning at yourself in the mirror.

He walks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle and pulling you flush to his chest. You lean into his soft embrace as he plants a kiss on the top of your head. “What's wrong love? Talk to me.”

You let out a deep sigh through your mouth. “I'm just in one of those moods again where I hate everything about myself.” You meet his violet eyes in the mirror, they're full of sadness. “What do you hate about yourself? Tell me and I'll tell you what I love about it.”

He spins you to face him and you look down. He hooks his finger under your chin so you're looking up at him. Rhys gives you a pleading smile. You know he just wants to make you feel better and be there for you, so you oblige his request. “I have more stretch marks on my thighs and butt.”

Rhys drops to his knees, caressing your thighs, kissing the marks. “I think these are beautiful. They're like like tiger stripes, it means you're fierce.” He says with a mischievous grin. He continues kissing your thighs, giving equal love and attention to both legs. “What else love?”

“I feel like my tummy looks pudgier.” He rises a little, still on his knees. Rhys moves his hands up your legs to trace over your stomach and places them on your hips. He kisses and nips at your tummy making you giggle. “I think your tummy is perfect.” Rhys grabs at you gently, kissing you again. “And even if it is getting ‘pudgier’,” he scoffs, “then that just means there's more of you to love.”

You run your hand through his soft, raven hair as he kisses you a few more times. “Anything else bothering you darling?” You nod, “The bags under my eyes are so bad Rhys. I feel like my whole face just looks wrong.” Tears line your eyes. Rhys stands holding your face in his hands. His face solemn, “Your face is absolutely beautiful. So what if you have bags? I have them too.” You smile at each other.

“Your nose is cute as a button, your cheeks are so pinchable and kissable, gods I just love them. And your eyes.” He stares into your eyes intently. “I get lost in those beautiful eyes all the damn time. I love the way they look at me. Full of love and lust. They're kind and perfect.” You let your tears fall and pull Rhys into a tight hug.

“I love you, Rhys. So, so much baby. Thank you.” He hugs you tighter, nuzzling your neck. “I love you too y/n, darling.” You pull away and he brushes your tears away with his thumbs. “How about we skip Rita’s tonight? And I can show you just how much I love you.” He smirks, leaning in so your noses touch. “I'd like that.” your breath catching, arousal taking over your body. Closing the distance Rhys connects his soft lips with yours.

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane

[wintaerbaer]

things we don’t say: part 3 (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slooooow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 9.0k

chapter warnings: kook has literally zero chill (i’m so sorry about him), jimin channels his inner dominic toretto, taehyung is so sweet he’s giving me cavities, discussions of infidelity, swear words, namjoon still gives the best hugs

a/n: thanks for the patience in waiting for this one! for those who may have missed it, i ultimately opted to split this into two chapters, so now we’re looking at seven parts and an epilogue. :)

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

"I can make you a drink?"

"It's noon."

"So?"

You sigh, slumping on the couch. "I appreciate it, Kook, but I'm just…" You stretch out, pressing your toes into his thigh. "Tired."

The week has gone by in a blur of tears and sleep. You'd taken the rest of the week off, thankful both that you had been carefully banking your PTO in case of an emergency and also for having a manager that prioritizes empathy and mental health. When you'd practically had a breakdown explaining your situation over the phone, she'd quickly granted you the time off—no questions asked—and told you to take care of yourself.

It's been mostly your friends taking care of you, however. After the night you came back from the beach house, you'd been whisked away to the guys' apartment to stay with them, camping out on their pull-out couch, which they’d insisted you could have for as long as you want (Taehyung had pushed you to take his bed, offering to stay in the living room, but you'd begged him not to make you feel worse by displacing him, and he'd eventually acquiesced). Maya and Taehyung had then gone back late the next day to pack you a bag with no Jace encounters.

He'd only texted you once—to provide a weak apology and to let you know he'd clear out of the apartment.

Still, your plan is to stay with the guys for a while; you don't think you could bear to be in your apartment alone right now, especially knowing that Jace has been with someone else in your bed. It's like the image is seared behind your eyelids, tormenting you every time you blink and pushing your mental fortitude to its absolute limit. You haven’t made it a single day without a breakdown, feeling as though you’re constantly trying to walk an emotional tightrope.

Except the tightrope isn’t pulled taut and is also on fire.

That being said, you welcome the distraction of having your friends around. Between Jimin working days, Jungkook working nights, and Taehyung having a flexible schedule with the museum and his photography gigs, someone is always around to spend time with you. Maya’s also taken it upon herself to pop in almost every night with wine, chocolate, or some other variation of breakup food and hang out for a while. You'd feel bad about their attentiveness (you feel sometimes like they're babysitting you), if not for the fact that it's the only thing keeping you remotely sane as you fluctuate between sobs and an overwhelming numbness.

This Sunday afternoon, it's Jungkook's turn to babysit; Taehyung left to run some errands an hour ago, while Jimin slept in late and is currently taking a shower. Jungkook's reclined on the sofa next to you, longs legs stretched out in front of him with his fingers laced behind his head. You'd thrown on a TV movie—some bullshit about a woman who goes through trials of love, only to realize that her perfect man was hidden in plain sight the entire time.

If only life were that fucking easy.

"Do you want an ice cream sundae?" Jungkook suggests as the credits roll. "I can make you an ice cream sundae."

"Are you just suggesting things that make your twelve-year-old brain happy?"

His lower lip pushes out in thought. "No, if I was going to suggest things that cheer me up when I'm sad, I'd offer to go down on you—"

"What the fuck, Kook."

"Which I'm game if you are, but I didn't think you liked me like that."

"Yeah, I think I'll pass."

"Suit yourself."

"Leave her alone, idiot. She's fragile." Jimin steps into the living room from the hall, fully dressed but still towel drying his hair. He takes in your relaxed forms on the couch—you, halfway burrowed under multiple blankets—and frowns. "You're not dressed yet?"

You blink slowly at him. "Should I be?"

"Yeah, Kook and I are taking you somewhere." He looks over at the man sitting beside you. "You didn't tell her?"

Jungkook's mouth stretches into a wide grin. "Surprise!"

You're still processing what the hell is happening—your plans for today were to park yourself in this spot and not leave—when Jimin strides over and yanks the blankets off of your body.

"Chim!"

"C'mon, get dressed. We have an appointment," he says. "And wear something comfortable. You're gonna love it, I promise."

A half hour later and you’re sitting in the back of Jungkook’s black Mercedes, watching the city pass by outside your window. Now that you’re up, it does feel nice to be out of the apartment instead of wallowing inside on the couch with a tissue box in your lap (which had been the general trend of the past week). Even listening to Jungkook and Jimin bickering about navigation up front helps to distract you from the dread that lingers like a blanket draped over your shoulders. All-in-all, you feel like you’re managing the fallout of your relationship as best as one can—at least when they find their almost-fiancé in bed with another woman. But grieving the loss still means that you’ve barely eaten, barely slept, and it’s not long before you’re dozing off in the backseat, dreaming of college—of sandy brown hair and green eyes.

You wake to Jimin’s hand on your shoulder gently shaking you out of your nap.

“Hey, we’re here.”

You’re on the outskirts of the city, it seems, in front of a squat, gray building that looks almost like a tiny warehouse. Peering up at the neon sign, you read, “Smash City Rage Room?”

“Cool, right?” Jungkook says, leaning against the side of the car.

You can physically feel the lines stretching across your forehead. “I don’t get it. We’re going to…?”

“Break stuff!” He takes your hand to pull you along. “Let’s go!”

You're led into a small, unassuming lobby—flat gray like the outside. Jimin gets you checked in with a burly-looking man behind a desk, who (after you’ve all signed some suspicious-looking release forms) promptly brings the three of you to a back room where you're fitted with protective jumpsuits, helmets, and goggles and instructed to "choose a weapon" from a rack filled with baseball bats and sledgehammers. At this point, Jungkook is practically bouncing out of his skin, the absolute picture of a golden retriever waiting for a ball to be thrown.

"You guys are really trying to distract me by taking me to Kook's version of Disneyland, huh?"

"That depends, is it working?" he says, grasping one of the hammers and weighing it in his hands.

"I'm skeptical but open-minded."

"Perfect!"

He hands you a bat, and your brawny host leads you to your final room—a wide, concrete space with a sturdy table in the middle and piles and piles of objects. Wine glasses, dinner plates, a computer monitor, and even a flat screen TV sit in heaps along the walls amongst some broken shards from previous visitors.

"You're free to smash anything in the room," the muscle man says in a gruff voice, "just no intentional damage to the building's structure. If you need something, you can flag us down through the camera up there," he points to the device in one of the ceiling's corners, "and someone will come check on you. Otherwise, just be safe and have fun. We'll come get you after an hour." Then he's swinging the door shut behind him.

You look blankly at the two men in front of you. "Now what?"

"We smash!" Jungkook says happily, already dragging the flat-screen onto the table. Then, before you can even respond: "Not like that, Y/N. Get your mind out of the gutter." He swings the sledgehammer down onto the TV screen, and it caves in on itself as Jungkook giggles maniacally.

"We thought this might help to let off steam," Jimin says, cracking a smile as he slams his bat into a propped up picture frame. "Try it!"

The two of them watch with wide, expectant eyes as you gingerly pick up a small drinking glass and place it delicately on the table.

"So now I just…?" You halfway lift the baseball bat, peering down at the poor, unassuming glass in front of you.

Jungkook leans forward, eyes eager, gesturing with the hammer in a light swinging motion he's clearly wanting you to mimic.

So you swing, bringing the bat down onto the lip of the glass with a moderate amount of force. It shatters, pieces flying outwards like little slivers of shrapnel.

It feels good.

The guys cheer, and Jimin reaches down to grab a champagne glass, setting it in front of you.

"Now pretend this one is that asshole's balls."

You hesitate, the mention of Jace causing the fist that's been around your heart to squeeze. You're angry with him, sure, fury simmering in your belly even now. But your biggest struggle and the source of all of your pain this week has been wrangling with your lingering feelings. Four years of loving someone are not so easily erased.

But you wish you could wipe it all from your mind.

You wish you could hate him.

"Let it out," Jimin murmurs, as you continue to stare, your hands gripping the bat. "This is the place."

You visualize Jace's face in your mind. His bright green eyes, his crooked smile, the tiny scar on his forehead from when he fell off his bike when he was nine. You can practically hear his voice whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

And then you see him in bed a week ago, his lips pressed to another woman's neck.

The champagne glass explodes like a small bomb into a million tiny crystals.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Jungkook yells, and it’s then that you realize that you were the one who swung the bat.

Your body is a live wire, pumping with adrenaline and a newfound rage. Before you know it, you don’t even have the patience to pick up the objects and place them on the table. Instead, you’re spinning around in a whirlwind, destroying plates and glasses and small kitchen appliances indiscriminately.

“This is for all of the lies about late nights!”

BOOM.

“This is for the fact that I’ve barely been able to breathe this past week!”

CRASH.

“This is for that dumb-ass crooked smile like he thinks he’s the star of some shitty movie!”

WHAM.

“And this is for that stupid, fucking green jacket.”

You channel all of your anger through the bat—every tear, every minute of lost sleep turned into shards of glass and debris. The tears come at some point, but you barely feel them as you scream out your frustrations, Jimin and Jungkook cheering you on the whole time.

It’s not a magical cure-all by any means, but you do feel a tiny bit of relief ease itself into your shoulders.

An hour later, you embrace both men in the parking lot. “Thank you,” you say, “for everything you guys have been doing for me. I needed this.”

Jimin shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Hey, I owed you for that time when I got passed over for promotion, and you brought me to Bar 613 and paid for all my drinks.”

“I just wanted to smash stuff,” Jungkook teases with a grin, but he rubs playfully at your upper back to let you know he’s kidding.

Jimin’s phone chirps with a notification, and he pulls it out of his pocket, squinting at the screen before muttering, “Hmm, Tae’s not ready yet.”

“Ready for what?” you ask, a feeling creeping in that your day of surprise distractions isn’t quite over.

“You’ll see soon enough.” Jimin’s knowing smile twinkles with mischief. “In the meantime, what do you say we get some ice cream?”

“What do you mean you’re not coming?”

You’d returned from your rage room and ice cream outing only for Jungkook to swing his car into the “No Parking” zone outside the apartment and promptly kick you out to the curb, a pair of impish smiles flashing at you from the front seats.

“We have strict instructions to stay clear of the apartment for the next several hours,” Jimin chimes. “So we’re going to entertain ourselves for a while.”

You narrow your eyes at them, knowing they’re not going to spill but making a feeble attempt anyway. “What did he do?”

“Go find out!” Jimin says, just as Jungkook shouts, “Bye!” and rolls up the window right in your face.

You enter the building with a sigh, swinging the plastic bag from your wrist that holds the takeout container of rocky road that you’d gotten for Taehyung. A part of you wants to be whiny about your friends making such a fuss for you, working so hard to cheer you up, but at the end of the day, you just feel loved. Tomorrow, you may wake up with a hollow chest, your heart scraped out in the middle of the night as it has been for every day the past week, but for now, you let a little flame of happiness warm your insides.

You do hope, though, that Taehyung didn’t go through too much trouble for whatever he has planned for tonight. He’s already spent a majority of the past week hovering, holding you when you cry, and otherwise keeping a close watch on your moods. And in spite of him trying to be subtle, you’ve noticed how he doesn’t close his bedroom door all the way at night so he can listen for you.

He’s a great friend, the best, but the fact that you care about him, too, means that you don’t necessarily want to burden him, don’t want to be the source of his worry.

It sucks that you’re doing a shit job of it.

Probably just a movie night, you think during the elevator ride up. Like we’d do in college.

But when you slip the key into the lock and slide the door open, your heart immediately leaps into your throat, the bag of ice cream almost slipping from your fingers.

The apartment has been positively upended, furniture rearranged, flipped, stacked, and draped with blankets to create a massive pillow fort in the middle of the living room. It has to be almost eight feet tall, and you wonder what the rest of the rooms look like as you spy all three of the guys’ desk chairs incorporated into the structure—clearly, the entire apartment was raided to create this behemoth. Around the dining room and kitchen, dozens of candles have been placed and lit to give the open space an ambient glow, accentuated by the lowering sun dipping down outside the massive windows.

When the door swings itself to latch shut with a soft click, there’s a rustling sound before Taehyung’s head pops out of the fort, and he beams as he comes to stand in front of you.

“What do you think?” he hums as you continue to stare incredulously at the scene behind him. You try to say something, you should say something, but tears begin to flow over your cheeks instead, causing the room to blur and Taehyung to pull you into a hug. “Okay, I have to admit this is the opposite of what I was going for.”

You press a watery chuckle into his chest. “This is incredible,” you gasp, shifting back to look at him.

“I’m glad you think so,” he says. “And that’s not even all. Come look.”

He guides you to the kitchen, where you now notice the counters are littered with all of your favorite comfort foods alongside the snacks you used to share growing up: sugar cookies and popcorn, potato chips and pretzels, brownies and bite-sized chocolates.

“Just like old times. And—“ He lifts the lid off a pot on the stove, and you’re quickly enveloped in the soothing scent of tomatoes and basil. “Spaghetti for dinner.”

It was the first meal you ever made together. In retrospect, the lumpy, acidic sauce you concocted in your parents’ kitchen that day was far from perfect. But at the time, you’d called it the best meal you’d ever eaten, and Taehyung has spent the subsequent years perfecting his own recipe. He doesn’t make it often, but when he does, it’s the perfect blend of nostalgia and warmth.

“And to think, all I brought you was this,” you say sadly, dangling the bag limply from your hand. But Taehyung snatches it from you in a flash, digging in like it’s a Christmas present. When he pulls out the papery white container, he grins like it’s much more than just half-melted ice cream.

“Rocky road?” he asks, smiling even more widely when you nod. “This is amazing, Y/N. Thank you.”

You study him quietly as he puts the ice cream away in the freezer—just to soak in this beautiful, home-shaped human being—and he raises his eyebrows at you when he turns back around.

“What?” he asks, the corners of his mouth twitching like he’s trying to hide yet another smile.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as you glance away. “Nothing.”

But the truth is, standing here in his kitchen, observing his tender movements as he carefully rearranges the snacks on the counter top—it’s the first time in a week that you’ve been able to breathe. And maybe it’s just because it’s been days of suffocating pressure around your chest, but the air pushing through your lungs now feels sweeter, richer as he looks up to capture your gaze again and gently takes your hand in his.

“Come see the inside.”

He pulls you to the mass of furniture and blankets, sweeping back an opening in the fabric to usher you in, and you gasp as he reveals the pillow fort of your childhood dreams.

It’s massive, tall enough for you to stand comfortably in, with wide walls and a tented ceiling that seems to suggest Taehyung has somehow tethered it to the apartment’s actual ceiling. The floor is absolutely packed with pillows, cushions, and heaps of additional blankets, and if you aren’t mistaken, there’s a literal mattress (maybe two?) buried underneath it all.

But the part that has your throat constricting on a sob, tears streaming once again, is the tiny side table he’s placed to the side, your star lamp glowing on top.

“How did—“ you choke, still taking it all in. The fort, the snacks, the lamp. “How did you—?”

“Found the lamp in your closet when we went to get you that bag of clothes.”

“And,” you wave a weak hand at the scene around you, “all of this?”

“Chugged a couple energy drinks,” he chuckles. “And Maya came by for a bit earlier to lend a hand.”

“Tae,” you say, wiping at your cheeks.

“Y/N.”

“This is…” Beautiful. Magical. Extraordinary. No single word seems adequate enough to describe what you’re feeling, his recreation of your childhood tradition to the nth degree tipping you into a state of practical euphoria after the hell of a week you’ve just had. You’d swear you feel like you’re about to combust with the amount of relief that’s flooding through your body in this moment, anger and grief giving way to joy and an overwhelming sense of fondness for the man in front of you.

You never complete your sentence, but Taehyung still seems to grasp your meaning, reaching out to squeeze your fingers one last time in a gesture of acknowledgment and understanding before he simply says, “Let’s eat.”

The two of you gather yourselves heaping bowls of pasta before burrowing into your pillow fortress, backs pressed up against the couch, which is being used to support one side of it.

“How was the rage room?” Taehyung asks, tomato sauce staining his lips.

“Surprisingly cathartic. But…”

“But?”

You rub at your temple before letting your hand fall in a huff. “Temporary. It all is. Every time I think I’m getting a moment to catch my breath, I feel like I’m being punched in the chest a second later.”

“It’s only been a week,” he says. “You’re grieving. It’s going to take time.”

“I don’t want it to though,” you snap, immediately regretting your tone, even though Taehyung looks unfazed. “I just want to turn it off. He did this terrible thing, and I should hate him for it. I want to hate him for it.”

“But you don’t,” Taehyung says, jaw clenching.

Throat swelling, you choke on the words as they find their way out. “I thought I was going to marry him.” The all-too-familiar pressure in your chest rears its head again, suffocating you from the inside. “We had all these plans.” Your breaths turn shallow, coming out in short, rough pants quickly joined by tears that Taehyung rushes to wipe away.

You’ve never known love could hurt like this until now, and for all intents and purposes, Jace was your first real love. You’d had a smattering of boyfriends in high school, but never anything long term until him—nothing that ever made your heart feel like it was going through a shredder, a blender, and a hurricane all at once when it ended. And it’s not just your idea of him or your relationship that you’re mourning, but also the future that you thought you’d have together. The dreams you had dared to dream when you’d traded ideas of rings and children and white picket fences while tangled together in bed.

Sensing an imminent panic attack, Taehyung pulls you into his lap and loops his arms around you, coasting his hands up and down your back in long strokes. He’s done this every time you’ve broken down around him over the past several days, the physical sensation giving you something else to focus on when the thoughts and memories of your now-ex come flooding through the mental barriers you’ve been trying and failing to construct.

You concentrate instead on the ministrations of Taehyung’s hands, the warmth of his large palms resting over your shirt, the glide of his fingers tracing your spine over and over. His fingertips trail up to your neck (inhale) and back down to your sacrum (exhale) on a loop as you clutch the soft fabric of his own shirt. And as the dread looming under your skin begins to ebb away, you notice how your breathing has synced up, pressed chest to chest like you’re two halves of one whole. It’s calming, the light press of his ribcage expanding against yours, and it serves as enough of a distraction to get yourself under control, your feelings stuffed back into their box for the time being.

When you lean back to look at him, his dark brown eyes map your face, steady as ever.

“Better?”

“Better.” You nod weakly. “But life would still be so much easier if love worked like a switch.”

His brow tilts downward a fraction, a touch of melancholy passing over his face. “If only.”

“That makes me an idiot though, right?” you ask. “To still feel for him even after that.”

“No, it makes you human,” Taehyung says, before his expression suddenly turns grave. “Has he contacted you?”

You sniffle, rubbing at your nose. “Nothing besides that one text saying he would clear out of the apartment.”

“Good,” he murmurs. “Listen, I think everything you’re feeling is normal, and you shouldn’t put any pressure on yourself to process it any particular way.” A pink tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “But please, Y/N. Please promise me you’ll never take him back if he asks.”

Truth be told, the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind until now—imagining a teary Jace on your doorstep, begging you to give him just one more chance. In spite of your lingering feelings for him, the image only stirs up a dull rage, disgust burning like acid in your stomach.

“Not a chance,” you say, twining your pinky around his for a brief moment, and he visibly relaxes, leaning back against the couch. “I don’t think I ever want to see him again. But it…it hurts.”

You struggle to pull in a breath that doesn’t want to come, chin dipping down to your chest before Taehyung begins to move. Long fingers reach out to squeeze your hips before nimbly dancing down to your ankles bracketing his legs, where they give you another squeeze. He works his way up your body from there, moving his hands to your knees. Squeeze. Your ribs. Squeeze. Your shoulders. Squeeze. Elbows. Squeeze. Wrists. Squeeze.

He’s pinching each joint of your fingers between the pads of his own when you finally ask, “Tae? What are you doing?”

He doesn’t even look up, zoned in on his task. “Putting you back together.”

“Is that how it works?”

“Yeah, Hobi and Joon have been giving me lessons.”

You snort, and it appears to be the reaction he was hoping for because he beams up at you as you keen forward with laughter until you’re practically sharing breath, faces mere inches apart.

Time freezes; something in the universe shifts.

Your eyes wander over his face, tracing the paths between details that you subconsciously know are there but which you’re not sure you’ve ever truly looked at: the deep brown of his eyes, the mole on the tip of his nose, the plush curve of his lower lip.

He’s beautiful. It’s something you’ve always been aware of—an obvious fact of life in the same way the sky is blue—but you’re also lucky enough to know that his beauty goes beyond a handsome face. It’s also in the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs with his whole body, the way he always carries crackers in his bag for photo shoots at the park so he can toss some to the ducks.

The way he’ll upend his entire apartment to help heal your broken heart.

Artificial stars dance around the fabric walls like fireflies as you become hyperaware of how his hands have drifted back to your hips, barely there but warm. It’s soothing, you think, to be held between the boundaries of his palms, as if nothing and no one can touch you here. But it’s always been that way, hasn’t it? He’s always been your primary source of comfort, your north star at every turn, propping you up within the safety of your own little world like he does now.

His warmth is a siren’s song that has you shifting closer, your hands sliding from his chest to his shoulders, when his grip on your hips suddenly tightens as he breathes out your name.

“Mmm?”

“We have snacks to get to.”

The bubble pops as Taehyung shifts you off his lap, darting away to the kitchen. You, however, stay firmly rooted to your spot in the blanket fort; your mind whirs, an unfamiliar tingling sensation gently working its way through your nerve endings and making your stomach dip. It’s not at all unpleasant, but you don’t know what to make of it, thoughts turning without reaching any kind of foregone conclusion until Taehyung ducks back under the blanket and into your space, arms overflowing with snack bags.

He smiles at you and your stomach dips again.

But your mind quiets.

He’s your person, you think. Undoubtedly now more than ever as he settles back down next to you like the rock he’s always been.

“Story time?” he murmurs, the light passing across his face as he hands you a bag of your favorite chips. You gently place it in your lap without opening it, still jittery from the way he held you only seconds ago. Watching you with hooded eyes, he frowns at your lack of movement, the way your fingers have stilled on the plastic. “Something wrong?”

“No,” you say, sitting up straighter so he doesn’t feel like you’re ignoring him. “Wouldn’t be a blanket fort without a story, right?”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say the light on the walls is now radiating from Taehyung himself as he launches into a clearly premeditated narrative about a princess and her devoted, best friend of a knight. After being betrayed by a prince from a neighboring realm, the two embark on an epic journey to restore their own kingdom, traversing mountains and crossing oceans together to retrieve the enchanted crown jewel that the thieving prince had stolen away. Another handsome and charming prince captures the princess’s heart during their adventure, and, once her power is restored, the two marry in the most beautiful and romantic ceremony the kingdom has ever seen.

“And they live happily ever after,” Taehyung says with a flourish. He reaches over to steal a handful of potato chips before slipping a hand behind his head and settling deeper into the mattress. You frown down at him.

“But what about the knight?”

He slides a potato chip between his lips, lifting a dark eyebrow in confusion. “What about him?”

“Where’s his happily ever after?” you ask, almost annoyed on the fictional character’s behalf. “He climbed a mountain and fought a dragon for her. What did the prince do? Just stand there and look hot?”

His expression changes, eyes widening in subtle surprise. “It’s not his story.”

“But—“

“It’s not his story, Y/N.”

He says it with finality, so you drop it, left to grumble internally about what you feel was an unjust ending for the caring and loyal knight.

It was a sweet tale, but you can’t help but think that you would’ve written it differently.

The return to work isn't as bad as you anticipated. Your boss, Jia, noticing your frayed nerves, has been easing you back in slowly with a handful of softball projects just to get you going again. As much as you think you needed that week to cry and wallow, it feels good to get back to some form of normalcy and have work to focus on and keep your mind off of things as much as you can.

The shadows linger though, anxiety grabbing hold of your chest every time you remember you'll be going home to a different apartment that night instead of the one you shared with Jace.

Jimin's been joining you for lunch every day, hanging around outside the office cafeteria before you get there like he's staking you out. You call him out for it on Thursday, and he looks sheepishly down at the table with a nervous chuckle.

"I kinda promised Tae I'd make sure you eat."

"Of course," you sigh. Taehyung's been getting up early every morning to cook both of you breakfast, insisting that it's part of his normal routine.

He forgets that you used to live together, and you know he's more of a granola bar guy in the morning, eager to get himself out the door and moving as soon as possible.

"You're all doing too much for me," you murmur. "You shouldn't have to babysit me like—"

"We don't have to do anything," Jimin says forcefully. "We want to be there for you. We do these things because we care about you."

"I know, but I just…" You swallow hard. "I don't want you all to see me as this broken thing that you need to protect."

Jimin's whole demeanor softens, and he reaches across the table to take your hand. You'd be worried about how this looks—two coworkers holding hands at lunch—if you didn't feel the tears welling up again, the urge to cry sticking itself in your throat like molasses as you try to choke it down.

"Y/N, that's not what we think," he says softly. "You're our friend. And you're hurting. And after the trauma you went through, it's perfectly understandable for you to need a little more attention and care than usual. Honestly, if anything, I'm worried that you seem to be taking things better than expected, and I think that's because you're trying to put a brave face on for us sometimes."

He’s not off-base. Especially after your Distraction Day, you've been doing your best these past few days to bottle everything down so your friends don't worry as much, taking your time to cry in the shower or quietly at night when everyone else is asleep.

"All I'm saying is that you can lean on us. That's what we're here for. And if your tough face can't fool me, you're definitely not fooling Tae. Let him help before he goes crazy with worry.”

Honestly, relying on Tae has been the least of your problems, even though you’re a little concerned about how he’s been waking up earlier than usual for you. That man has been your rock for years, and receiving comfort from him is almost second-nature at this point. It’s how the two of you operate. Everyone else, however…

“I’m fine with Tae,” you tell him. “But I’ve never felt this…vulnerable around the rest of you. It used to just be Tae and I, hiding away from our problems in my room, and now—“

“You have us!” He beams. “That’s a beautiful thing, Y/N, can’t you see? You’re not alone anymore. Not you, not Tae. You have us. All of us. We’re going to get you through this. And if you need a silver lining, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen Jungkook and Maya this united against a common enemy before. I could’ve sworn I heard them the other night trying to figure out the best way to slash Jace’s tires without getting caught.”

“Don’t make me cry at work,” you say, blinking furiously to try and clear the sudden moisture from your eyes. “I think Jia is already prepared to send me home if I don’t stop sounding like I’m learning how to breathe for the first time.”

He laughs gently, giving your hand a squeeze before relinquishing it. “It’s going to get better, Y/N. I know I just called you our friend, but really, we’re family.”

The summer presses on in a haze as you focus on just getting through one day, one step at a time: get out of bed, go to work, come home, shower, try to get a few hours of fitful sleep, eat somewhere in between all of that. And before you know it, an entire month has passed.

Taehyung continues to make you breakfast every morning and insists on taking you to your favorite ramen place at least twice a week for dinner, watching you with concerned eyes from across the table. You’d give him shit for it if his worry didn’t feel so justified. If he wasn’t so persistent in making sure your base needs were being met, you’re not entirely sure you can say you wouldn’t be starving yourself in grief. And you know it makes him feel better to see you eating—how happy it makes him to care for others—so you don’t resist when he pushes an extra pancake onto your plate or orders you a second helping of noodles to go.

It’s one of your scheduled ramen nights when you get back from work a little later, a particularly emotional day preventing you from getting your tasks done on time. You drop your bag in the living room with a sigh, thankful that no one is around to ask you how your day was—you’re really not in the mood. Taehyung had sent you a text letting you know that he wanted to take a shower before you head out, needing one after a long day of photographing clients in the baking July heat. You can hear water running in the bathroom, so you assume he must still be in there.

The living room makes you feel vulnerable with its vaulted ceiling and tall windows, like you’re laid bare for the whole world to see. Because of this, you decide to wait for Taehyung in his bedroom, hopeful that you might be able to find some reprieve in his tucked-away space.

You’ve been in Taehyung’s room before, of course, but you’re not sure that you’ve ever taken the time to really peruse. Unlike Jace, Taehyung’s space is neatly organized, and you’re first drawn to the large bookcase that dominates the wall adjacent to the door. He’s stuffed it full of art anthologies: Van Gogh, Renoir, Monet, and Pollock giving way to old photography textbooks on the bottom shelves. About halfway down, you spot the bound collection of his own work that you’d had made for him as a college graduation gift (you got one for yourself too, and he’d blushed beautifully when you asked him to sign it).

Across the room, his bed is carefully made, dark bedding tucked cleanly under the mattress. In place of a nightstand and opposite the dresser, he’s set up a series of box shelves for his photography equipment—you spot lenses and tripods placed alongside gadgets you would have no idea how to use. His desk sits to the left, an impressive PC setup backed by a large cork-board brimming with post-it notes, business cards, and a photograph that has you stopping in your tracks.

The first photograph Taehyung ever took.

It’d been the spring right after you both turned sixteen, and Taehyung had finally saved up enough money from his newspaper job to buy his first camera at the secondhand shop. You’d gone along, bouncing up and down with excitement for him so vigorously that the shopkeeper kept giving you strange looks over the counter.

New toy in hand, Taehyung pulled you to the park, where the cherry blossoms were in full bloom—clusters of pastel pink contrasting wonderfully against the bright blue sky. You bought yourselves some kkwabaegi at a nearby food stall as Taehyung sat on a bench figuring out how to operate the camera. Distracted by the numerous dials and buttons, he didn’t even realize you had returned until you dusted his cheek with a bit of cinnamon sugar, teasing that his cheeks were just as fluffy as the donut you subsequently handed him with a smile.

Snacks finished, you strolled along the petal covered path, chatting about everything and nothing as Taehyung continued to fiddle with the controls.

“Are you going to be able to figure it out?” you asked, skipping ahead to pluck a wildflower out of the grass after several minutes had passed without him taking a single photo.

“Actually, I think I’ve just got it.”

“Really?” you said, turning around to face him and freezing at the sound of a click and the sight of the camera held at the ready in front of his face. His grin was full of mischief as he dropped his arms at your stunned look, and you rushed back to his side to give him a joking shove. “I wasn’t ready, you jerk. I’m going to look like an idiot.”

But Taehyung was still smiling widely, already striding down the path to line up his next shot. “Don’t worry. You looked perfect.”

You’d forgotten about the photograph after that day, as Taehyung never actually showed it to you. You figured that it probably didn’t turn out right, a blurry candid, and was scrapped. Now, looking at it, it’s not his best work, but it’s not nearly as bad as you’d pictured in the moment.

It’s you, backdropped by the pink of the blossoms, with delicate petals dancing around your form. Your eyes are bright and eager as you turn to face him, the corners of your lips upturned in the beginnings of a smile and the small purple flower raised halfway to your chest.

In spite of the struggles you know you were dealing with at home, you look content. Happy.

“Oh, you’re home.”

You jump, spinning around to face where Taehyung suddenly stands just inside the doorway, and you feel something flip low in your belly.

It’s not that you’ve never seen him shirtless—years of going to the beach house together have taken care of that—but here, in the low, intimate light of his bedroom, the sight of his mostly naked body strikes you in a way that it never has before. The veins in his arms and hands pop from the heat of the shower, skin tanned by his time spent outdoors. His dark hair is still wet and, as if on cue, a drop of water falls off the end of a ringlet, your eyes following as it rolls over sharp collarbones, down a toned chest and smooth stomach, and into the towel sitting low on his hips.

Taehyung clears his throat, and one look at his flushed face tells you that your perusal of his torso hasn’t gone unnoticed.

Why are you even looking?

“I—uh—sorry,” you mumble, snapping out of your trance also flustered, words spilling out in a jumble of unexpected nerves. “I had a rough day and just felt so exposed in the living room, and if Jimin or Kook showed up and asked me how I was, I was going to lose it so I came in here as a distraction, and I promise I wasn’t trying to snoop or anything—“

“Y/N, hey.” He crosses the room to where you stand, smiling gently down at you. “I don’t mind.”

You swallow, still looking for something to distract from the fact that you were very obviously just checking him out. “You still have this?” You point at the photo of yourself, and he looks at it, expression overcome with sentimentality.

“Yeah.”

“A reminder of how far you’ve come with your work?”

He turns his eyes back to yours, slow and warm as they settle on you. “A reminder of a perfect day,” he says, voice low, before creases form at his brow. “But your day wasn’t so good?”

Your gaze drops to the floor, and you suck your lips between your teeth in a gesture that is answer enough for him.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He doesn’t push; never pushes. If you told him no, you know that’d be the end of it, and he’d spend the rest of your night together coming up with different threads of conversation to divert your attention. And perhaps it’s this awareness—his consistent and mindful respect of your boundaries—that makes you so willing to open up.

“I just can’t stop asking myself if I missed signs. If I could’ve done something different. Something better.”

“Y/N—“

“We were together four years, Tae. Four fucking years.” You pull in a breath, fighting off the stinging of tears in your eyes. “And in the end, I meant next to nothing to him.”

It’s the part you’ve been struggling with the most, how you gave him years of your life—nearly half of your twenties—and let him dig his fingers into your heart only to pull it apart like clay.

Revealed bits of yourself to him that you’ve only ever showed one other person.

That man stands in front of you now, gently scrutinizing your face as he considers your words. His hands drift your way as if of their own accord, hovering into your space without ever truly touching.

“Would you want to though?” he finally asks.

“What?”

“If you could’ve done something differently. Knowing what you know now.” A pink tongue darts out to lick his lips. “Would you?”

It’s a fair question, and you know what the right answer is supposed to be. You’re supposed to say that no, that son of a bitch can burn in hell for what he did. He’s trash, you can do better—all of the empty platitudes that are supposed to be expressed when a betrayal like this takes place.

But his actions don’t erase the years you spent together. Don’t mean that what you yourself felt wasn’t real.

And you loved him. You really did.

“I don’t know.”

Taehyung doesn’t exactly seem thrilled by that but nods nonetheless, his fingers wandering back to his sides to fidget with the edges of his towel. “You must know that none of it was your fault, though.”

“But if it was?” you question. “If I could’ve been a better girlfriend, a better partner—“

“It still wouldn’t have justified what he did.” There’s an edge to his voice now, a hint of anger. “Don’t you dare let that asshole make you feel like you deserved it.”

“But—“

“No. No buts,” he says roughly, hands shooting up to grip you around the elbows. “What he did is inexcusable. There’s no making sense of it, and there’s no one to blame but him.”

You know in your heart that what he says is true, but your newfound insecurities have had you questioning your sense of self—that maybe you had a part to play in what happened. A relationship is two people after all, maybe he wouldn’t have cheated if you had—

“You did nothing wrong,” Taehyung continues, reading your mind. “He made an active choice to sleep with someone else. If he had an issue with your relationship, he had a hundred other ways to approach it. He chose to do what he did.” His hands slide up to your shoulders, appraising. “You are kind and thoughtful. Fiercely loyal. Always want what’s best for those around you. You still get breathless for the first snowfall each winter and make the most delicious triple chocolate cake.” Fingers give you a gentle squeeze. “And you never take shit from anyone. Especially people who don’t give you the respect you deserve.”

His words are a balm sinking deep into your skin, but his voice sets something alight in your core, your veins thrumming at the spots where he holds you.

What in the world is this?

“Don’t let him convince you you’re anything less than the incredible person you are,” Taehyung continues, oblivious to your perplexed state. “And if he couldn’t value that, someone else will. Lots of other fish in the sea.”

He holds your stare, gaze boring into you like he can telepathically eliminate every doubt and insecurity rattling around your skull, and a stray voice at the back of your mind thinks that whichever woman eventually gets to wake up to those eyes every morning is going to be so damn lucky.

He frowns, licking his lips again as he finally notices that you’re not altogether with him. “Are you okay?”

Y/N, what the hell?

You give yourself a little shake, playing back what he just said. “I don’t know about that.”

“You’re not okay?”

“No,” you say, taking a step back so you can loosen his grip and clear your head. “About the whole fish thing. I kind of get it now.”

He’s clearly not following. “Get what?”

“Your break from dating,” you say. “Why you wanted to stop for a while.”

He raises a long finger to rub at his bottom lip. “That’s…not quite the same.”

“Why not?”

“There were…” He tilts his head as he considers his word choice, and another drop of water slides down his chest. “Underlying circumstances.”

Now it’s your turn to be confused. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means it’s a story for another time when you’re not trying to deflect by turning this around on me.”

“I’m not deflecting,” you argue. “I’m just saying I understand where you’re coming from now. Dating sucks. People suck.”

He chews at the inside of his lip, studying you. “That wasn’t my intention when I told you that.”

“Yeah, well when you told me that, we didn’t know that my boyfriend was fucking another woman,” you scoff.

He sighs at your crude reminder. “There is a third option, you know.”

“What’s that?”

“Just let yourself be,” he says. “You don’t need to rush into anything either way. If something happens, it happens. If not, then no pressure to look for it. But maybe don’t close yourself off from opportunities entirely just because one bastard made a terrible decision.”

“Tae,” you begin with an exhausted, rattling breath. But he cuts you off, already anticipating your protest.

“I just know you, and I know you’ve always believed in love. Dreamed of finding ‘the one’ and settling down.” He wrinkles his nose. “Made that whole wedding mood board after Haneul kissed you for the first time when we were fifteen.”

That makes you laugh. “Hey, you helped me cut out the pictures.”

“I did.”

You look at each other for an instant, twin smiles reflected on your faces before yours falls. “I just don’t know.”

“And that’s fine,” he says kindly, gently. “It’s okay to need time, and it’s okay to want to step away from dating for a while. It would just be awful if he ruined that part of you, you know?” His voice lowers even further. “It’s a wonderful part of you.”

You feel warm all over, like the comfiest, fluffiest blanket has been draped around your shoulders.

Honestly, what would you even do without this man?

“You’re a great guy, Tae. Do you know that?”

He blushes, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, and a tingle runs down your spine before he finally looks away.

“We should get going,” he tells you. “Namjoon and Hobi said they’d meet us.”

You dip your head, the moment gone. “Okay, but I’d recommend putting on some pants first.”

His face turns a deeper shade of red.

“Over here!”

Hoseok waves you down from a table at the back of the restaurant, pulling you in for a hug once you get there, just as he has every time he’s seen you since the incident with Jace. You’re then passed along to Namjoon, who embraces you with almost bone-crushing pressure.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, swaying you side-to-side. You just nod into his chest, giving him a tight squeeze before he releases you so you can slide into the seat next to Taehyung.

Aside from the hugs and the fact that the entire dinner is a ploy by Taehyung to get you to eat, the night feels relatively normal, and you’re grateful for it. Hoseok and Namjoon dramatically complain about the perils of medical school, regaling the two of you with stories about catastrophic anatomy labs and exam mishaps to your and Taehyung’s delight. The first blip comes when Hoseok absent-mindedly mentions an all-nighter of studying for boards while simultaneously working on seating arrangements before he immediately cuts himself off, throwing you a remorseful look.

“It’s fine, Hobi,” you say. “The world doesn’t just stop because my relationship did. And I’m still excited for you and Sunny.”

He nods but still looks apologetic, causing Namjoon to hop in with a change of subject. “Oh, by the way, I have my roommate situation settled.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh, I’m moving in with my friend Yoongi at the end of the summer.”

“Your childhood friend?” Taehyung asks.

“That’s the one,” Namjoon confirms with a nod. “We’re planning on having a little housewarming party once we’re settled if you’ll be up for it.”

“Sounds fun,” you say. “And I’d like to meet him.”

“He’s a great guy. Musician. He’s moving into the city for work.”

“Well if you vouch for him, I’m sure he’s wonderful.”

You don’t notice it, but Namjoon gets a glint in his eye. Sipping on his water, he glances between you and Taehyung before saying, “Speaking of great guys, I’d also like to introduce you to someone.”

Taehyung stills beside you; you freeze in equally stunned silence.

Hoseok’s eyes nervously dart to Taehyung then you as he says, “Ah, Namjoon, I don’t think—“

“If you’re up for it, of course.” Namjoon looks only at you, his tone casual as if he doesn’t notice the sudden tension. “He also just got out of a long-term relationship and is kind of a mess about it. I’m thinking it might do both of you good to get back out there in a low pressure situation, especially with someone who understands.”

“I…” You don’t know what to say. You’d meant what you said to Taehyung about taking a break from dating, but you also trust Namjoon. He wouldn’t set you up with a creep, and maybe he does have a point about a low pressure date to at least take that first step.

But isn’t it too soon? You and Jace were together for years, and it’s only been a little over a month. Are you supposed to take more time? Or should you just get that first date over with? It hits you suddenly that you don’t even know how to meet people now that you’re out of school. How do capital-A Adults even find dates? Maybe it would be better to meet up with someone that’s already been vetted by one of your friends instead of some random on a dating app.

Namjoon speaks up again as your mind spins. “It’s entirely up to you. I can give you his number, and if you decide to reach out, great. If not, no harm, no foul.”

Still undecided, you turn for a second opinion. “Tae, what do you think?”

But he’s staring intently at Namjoon, expression indecipherable. Namjoon finally shifts his attention from you to engage in an intense staring contest with Taehyung across the table, the two of them clearly having some kind of silent conversation while Hoseok looks on in obvious discomfort.

You’re sitting there—just trying to figure out what the hell is going on—when Taehyung abruptly faces you, slipping a hand over your knee.

“I think you should go for it.”

His eyes are sincere, his hand hot where it rests on your skin.

“Other fish in the sea, right?”

You blink at him. Well, that’s that then. If there’s anything in the world you have complete faith in, it’s that Taehyung would never lead you astray.

Turning back to Namjoon, you shift so Taehyung’s fingers fall away. “What’s his name?”

Namjoon smiles.

“Seokjin.”

NEXT

a/n: the next two parts are my favorite, and part 4 is already around 85% written so i'll be looking to get that out asap! in the meantime, please consider leaving a like, reblog, or feedback!

taglist is open!

[draconic-absurdism]

Hey, quick question (that I'm sending before I go to sleep) how do you draw those pool rooms /liminal spaces (poll edition) I can't figure it out and I saw that you did them and they looked really good!

Yo, you caught me at the perfect time!!! I haven't been active on Tumblr in a while due to mental health stuff, but here I am! Thank you so much for the kind words :]

I draw these as studies based on photos most of the time! Some of them are very closely referenced while others take a lot of artistic liberty

(The original poolrooms renders are by Jared Pike btw!)

I start by blocking out the background colors very simply. I don't use the straight line tool most of the time; imperfect lines are part of the charm. Just using your eye to lay out roughly where the shapes go, use edges & estimated perspective to create depth, and bucket fill in areas of color as you go

I slowly move toward the foreground and add the character at the very end- this usually makes them look out of place in the scene, which works great as an effect for a liminal space. Sometimes you don't need a character at all

The idea is to suggest detail without having to paint complex lighting! It also works for non-pool liminal spaces

I draw textured water by doing something like this:

It's deceptively simple! Sometimes I'll go back and add really thin white rings inside the bigger white circles for extra detail. I'm trying to minmax art to get impactful effects with the least amount of time spent. Some people might argue that makes it low effort or less meaningful, but some people might argue anything at all! Ultimately the value of art is what it means to you

My liminal series is based on really sporadic intense bouts of emotion which can't be refined over long hours without losing their original meaning. I work until I feel in my gut that it's done, no matter how "finished" it actually looks in the end. It might be 20 minutes or 4 hours

One instance where I recommend using the straight line tool is for making grid patterns!

For the glowing lights, I use a 'shine' or 'glow' or 'screen' effect layer (it might have a different name depending on your drawing program). Having everything be solid colorblocks except for a few glowing lights makes for some fun jarring contrast!

Pinterest has a really good selection of liminal space photography to study from, unfortunately a lot of it goes uncredited, but you can usually find the source with Google image search. I seek out liminal spaces that speak to me for some reason. The suburb ones represent the bloody paranoid failure of individualist imperialist America. Dark hotel hallways invite you into an unknown and uncertain future. The pool ones are both isolation and wholeness, comfort and discomfort, the pain on your skin when the water is a bit too cold despite the calm vibes of summer. Find what motifs speak to you, they'll mean something different to everyone

[softxsuki]

Hello, can I please ask for an urgent request?

My mental health is acting up badly again (please don't read any further if it'll make you uncomfortable), sorry if it feels like I'm oversharing with the added context.

I have recently been having suicidal thoughts again, and I lost my therapist together with my job, and since moving back to my hometown again I also lost all my safety net of the last four years.

Can I have any Tokyo revengers character with a fem reader who is feeling left behind and lonely because she feels out of place? (Like, too overweight, too unfeminine, too geeky, too weird to be loved)

I'll understand if this makes you uncomfortable and don't want to write this, thanks for having your requests open 🩷

Kazutora Comforting Reader Who Feels Out of Place

Pairing: Kazutora x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of feeling lost, lonely, bad self image, feeling like a bother, undeserving of love

Genre: Comfort

Post-Type: Headcanons

Word Count: 310

Summary: In which Kazutora comforts you after learning of your feelings of lonliness, and feeling out of place in the world.

[A/N: This doesn't make me uncomfortable at all! Thank you for trusting me with this request. I'm so sorry for the wait, life has been busy and I'm mad that my writing isn't at it's best right now, so this is kinda...mid. SORRY. I hope it was okay that I picked Kazutora, IK ppl have conflicting feelings about him, but I adore future Kazutora sm, so hopefully this gives you some comfort. So sorry for all the terrible things you've had to go through, I hope they get better for you soon! ]

Kazutora:

After spending most of his teen years locked up, he felt similarly when he was thrown into a changed world overnight, alone

He felt stuck in time as everyone else he once knew was now completely different, they had all moved on with their lives while he was left behind to figure things out on his own

You were the person that helped him with that, thanks to your endless love and support 

Now that you were feeling the same way, he wanted to make sure he could help you just like you helped him

“You’re your own person. I don’t want you to blend in with everyone else. You stand out uniquely just as you are, there’s nothing you need to change about yourself. If people can’t see that, then they’re not even worth your time. The right people will stop to get to know you and love you…like I do.”

There was no such thing as ‘too geeky’ or ‘too unfeminine’ about you to Kazutora. Anything you found weird about yourself was perfect in his eyes. Whether you’re thinner or chubbier than the average girl, none of that mattered to him

He didn’t fall in love with you for your body or your looks, even if you did look perfect in his eyes, he fell for your essence–all the little things you did or said that were unique to you, he was completely infatuated with it all

Does his best to make sure you don’t feel alone with him, but also doesn’t want you to feel suffocated around him so he gives you your space to do your own thing as well

Tell him what you need him to do to get you back on your feet–he’d do whatever you ask of him, despite how impossible it may seem, he’ll get it done no matter what

Look at him…

REQUESTS ARE OPEN :D

Posted: 11/5/2023

[gin-juice-tonic]

Hey there! I have a friend who wants to write a character with OCD, but I'm worried that she might not have a fully accurate image of what it is. I don't really know many people with OCD, but if you could could you give some tips to pass on to her? Sorry if this is weird, and you don't have to answer this if you don't want to. I just thought it would be better to get information from someone who is affected by OCD than skim an article about it. Thanks again (p.s. I really love your comics!!)

This is going to go under a cut cause i wrote more than I really intended. It's very long. I put a video clip of a character who I think is a good representation in media at the end if you decide you dont want to read all of that and just skip down there.

The thing is that OCD varies a lot from person to person. My experiences arent gonna look the same as someone else's who also has it. Some people have very visible symptoms, some people have things that are still obviously ocd symptoms but would only be recognized by someone who knew what to look for, some people only have mental symptoms - you wouldnt be able to tell unless you were a mind reader. And just like any other disorder it has a range of severity.

Also not everyone's triggered by the same things. I know you said you'd rather hear from a person than an article, but I think she should look at articles that detail what typical obsessions are (Though she should go in knowing these thoughts are beyond people's control. They're sometimes extremely upsetting, and theyre of course upsetting to the person who has them. They may be very hard to read if you arent well-versed in this stuff.) In fiction I usually see perfection and contamination, but there are wayyyy more than that. Some triggers come and go even. One day I can be completely fine about something and encountering it a different day it might take me 3 months to stop spiraling about it.

An important thing that IS spread across everyone who has it is that giving into compulsions makes things worse. They are a feeling of momentary relief that can fade incredibly quickly, which is what leads people to do them over and over and over again much to the detriment of the person doing it.

There is not a lot of rhyme or reason to it. And it cannot be logic-ed with. You could be the smartest, most level headed, logical person in the world, but you cannot logic your way out of obsessive thoughts. (This usually creates an obsessive thought spiral even, which is bad and can be dangerous...)

Adding onto that, she should think hard about whether the character would know they have OCD or not. The public perception of OCD is not great. Most people dont understand what it looks like, including people who have it. And the people who do have it often feel like they cannot talk about it. (I was encouraged by a psychiatrist to never! talk about the intrusive thoughts I have to ANYONE. She sucked, but it shows the attitude that surrounds the disorder.) And whether they know or not will make a big difference in how they view themself and their mental health. Personally when I did not know I had it I was doing a lot worse mentally. A lot. Frankly it very nearly drove me to suicide. And then I found out what it was, and it helped. It didnt magically make things disappear of course, but it helped.

She also might be tempted to make the characters symptoms manifest in ways that are comedic or silly. I am not bothered by this necessarily, I think a lot of the things I do are silly and would be perceived as funny by an outsider. But if she is going to do this I ask that she makes sure she shows how frustrating and embarrassing it is for the character. If you want an example, there is a character in the show Scrubs with OCD. (Side note, Scrubs is rated TV-14 so turn back now if youre too young but)

His name is Dr Kevin Casey, though you could probably just find his scenes from looking up Scrubs OCD. He is played off as a jovial man whose disorder makes him quirky, but he is given a scene in which you can really see the toll it takes on him. One line he says "Nobody's supposed to see this" hits especially hard.

So if that was too long and you didnt read most of it the number one important thing I'd personally ask is however inconvenient this characters OCD is going to be to everyone else Id like her to make sure she shows that its a million times more inconvenient to the person who has it.

[mj-iza-writer]

Oc in three

Thanks again to @writingphoenix.

Rule: introduce a character with three images.

I won't tag anyone this round. If you want to do this do it.... it's fun.

Sp Special Containment: Jaimie.

Jaimie has two personalities that keeps Mcgee on her toes.

One is super girly and bubbly. She is quick to switch though. She is very deadly and tricky though.

Aramais says she is a little devil, but he still wants to take care of her.

Still not sure if I'm supposed to share what the pics mean but you know I have to.

Ghostly person standing on field: Jaimie was kidnapped at young age by the Human Weapon organization. Because of her disappearance she wouldn't feel comfortable going home, and she doesn't quite feel visible tobthe real world.

Heel on hand: Jaimie was raised by the facility and in turn they were able to shape her into the perfect assassin. She always feels better in heels though.

Bloody person holding Teddy bear: because of her being kidnapped at a young age, she lost a lot of her childhood. She resorts back to having a childlike nature when she feels safe to do it. I like to think Jaimie has stickers all over her holdings cell because Mcgee brings them in.

☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️

I'm going to do Whumpee's as well. This will b3 Whumpee from Sp Special Containment.

Just a reminder Whumpee is genderless.

Whumpee is baby... and everyone but Mitch would agree. A dangerous baby, but none the less.

Not much is known on how Whumpee ended up becoming a human weapon, they barely remember what happened.

They were so lucky to get Mitch as a trainer. That impatient ass was told to break Whumpee any means necessary. Whumpee had worked so hard to hold onto what little they had left.

Honestly Aramais doesn't even know what Mitch did to Whumpee, but Aramais will protect Whumpee at any cost now.

Pic time:

Person with shadows: Whumpee has severe mental health problem thanks to Mitch. They have been known to lose control of their survival mode when having an episode. Their inner world is brutal.

Patient being helped: This made me instantly think of Caretaker. It was the best move for Caretaker to take over Whumpee. Whumpee needed the patient understanding love from him to help them get settled into the facility.

Holding a Teddy bear: Whumpee is still young, the organization ruined a lot of Whumpee's childhood as well. They love these soft objects so much, and it makes it so much better to hug one.

Should I do the Director and four caregivers next?

[duplicitywrites]

Thank you so much for replying to my other ask! I completely understand not wanting to revisit a fic you had wrote when you weren't doing the best, and I hope you're feeling better now! 🩷 I adore 'evermore' so much even though it's quite depressing aha 🥲 The way you wrote Harry's mental health and escapism was so good and Id love to hear some spoilers if you were up to it 😅

One thing I love about fanfic is the freedom of it all, and like you said "What is fanfic if not an ode to writing that felt unfinished?". Your interpretation of Harry as an abused child at his core in works like "damaged" always get to me. It always felt weird in the HP book series that Harry had such an awful childhood and was as well adjusted and happy in the future.

Another one of your works I was really interested in is 'perfect boys with their perfect lives', the Harry/Cedric aka a certain dark lord one. It really had me thinking about what could have happened in the graveyard if Harry hadn't escaped 🫣

i am, thanks! it was around covid, which was an awful time for everyone i'm sure, with weird life stuff piled on top of it.

i was going to answer all of the ones you mentioned, but evermore is actually one of few stories i have planned out in detail. this is why it has a planned chapter count (though that hasn't stopped me from going overboard before lol).

i guess i'll just give you the whole thing in case i never finish it kljsdgkljdgs it's pretty long, so under a cut it goes! but first some context for everyone else:

🍃 Evermore

Tags: Alternate Universe, Unhealthy Relationships, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Manipulative Relationship, Infidelity, Past Child Abuse, Dream Sequences, Depression, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Plot Twists, Happy Ending, Surprise Ending, Healing

Summary:

Harry is a married man who is living a charmed life. He has no need for the fantasy potions gifted to him by the Weasley twins—or so he thinks. After falling asleep on the train ride home, Harry dreams of the perfect man, a man named Tom Riddle. As Harry explores his dream life with Tom, he realizes that his actual life is not as charmed as it seems. The pristine image of his faultless marriage shatters, revealing a darker reality, and Tom Riddle becomes an oasis, a sanctuary for Harry to escape to. However, no sanctuary is eternal and no oasis is truly perfect. Harry must eventually confront his demons, inner and outer, before he can find real happiness for himself.

Notes:

these notes are arranged in order from where the most recently posted chapter left off.

there are probably some divergent points that occurred during the actual writing process, but this plan below (i'll admit i'm not quite brave enough to reread it all) is what the general storyline will be.

-

reality four - right where you left me

maybe harry's been harbouring fears of his potions being found? :thots: or his husband's made note of his changes in behaviour, accuses him of not spending time/being devoted

they get into an argument where harry gets a looooot of shit for stuff he doesn't deserve to get shit for, stuff that's not even true

harry yells back but gets hit, idk if by magic or not :thots: and he backs down, distraught. then once he's alone, he goes straight for the dream world

dream four - no body no crime

it'll be a much shorter version obviously, and the character roster won't be the same

i hadn't nailed down the specifics of the background and so i'm not sure how it'll look, exactly

harry is NOT married in this dream, he knows dream-husband but they are only friends

dream-husband is ginny's role in this particular iteration

but the climax of this scene is where harry is snooping around in the house, where he happens upon the dream-husband's diary

he's been looking for evidence to prove the murder

harry reads through the diary

and in the diary are tragic entries describing depressive thoughts, details of emotional (maybe even physical) abuse, etc.

this is a pivotal moment for harry, who up until this moment has been in denial about the failings of his real life marriage

reading this in the framing of it happening to someone else is enough for him to realize that it's wrong

what happens to him is not okay

but of course it's not that easy to just, shrug off years of marriage all at once; harry once again exits the dream, thus ending that particular dream universe

he's partly in denial but it's not as bad as before

he's been using the dreams as a coping mechanism up until this point

i've made it sound kind of frustrating but the dream worlds that harry goes to are meant to be very lush, romanticized

while we realize that harry's dream worlds are not ideal, he doesn't realize it right away

he thinks he's still doing something wrong

reality five - coney island

uh so next is probably another real life scene which shows tension between harry and his husband, only harry is no longer acting the way he did before aka accepting things without question

after the dream, harry starts to... notice things. he picks up on the slights, on the manipulative behaviours. he doesn't argue back for most of it, because he's still figuring it out and he's in shock, but he does start acting differently, which is noted by his husband

it escalates things further, a landslide of 'harry is no longer listening to me, is no longer under my control' type of deal where it results in more attempts to manipulate, which harry now sees is bad

voldemort grew addicted to power, made deals with politicians, gained a following

he looks back on past events and picks out the red flags, realizes that his marriage is not a marriage of equals. but just because harry knows these things, doesn't mean he knows what to do. he goes back to the dream world for comfort/answers

dream five - cowboy like me

this one is 'cowboy like me'

harry is there with his husband staying at a hotel, they happen across dream-husband, who is a con artist attempting to swindle an older woman

either harry is also a con artist in a similar vein, or he is mistaken for one - i'll probably decide once it's written out and i get a sense of the vibe

but he and dream-husband have some interesting conversations, flirting, etc

the theme of this dream i think will be further strengthening the similarities between harry and the dream-husband he's made up in his head

this dream ends with a bittersweet farewell

something along the lines of, despite their attraction for each other, they must part ways? :thots: or some other thing

but there will be a bit of a cheeky 'see you soon'

aka referencing the fact that it's a dream/dream world, that the dream-husband is a recurring character in harry's mental space

reality six - happiness

harry's down to two vials now, the bittersweet farewell of dream five has him realizing that time is running out in the metaphorical sense; we understand that soon he will need to make a choice

i might loop back to infidelity at this point, maybe in an attempt to bring harry to heel, his husband starts flaunting an affair? :thots: cause in the past, flirting with other people probably worked to make harry upset and easily manipulated

but y'know now harry is armed with his brand new knowledge of Marriage Should Not Be Like This and also he's got some shiny self-worth stored up, courtesy of dream-husband

dream six - ivy

in this dream world, harry is married to his current husband, but he is having an affair with the dream-husband; not in the sexual sense, but in the emotional sense. drawing on the dream five, harry is seeking comfort and solace from his bad marriage

this dream is meant to remove more of harry's doubts and encourage him to see that his current situation is bad

and i imagine we start to break through the fourth wall; dream-husband speaks directly to harry, referencing real life events that have occurred

he encourages harry to leave

harry is doubtful, obviously. this is all he's known and he's been gaslighted, manipulated, mistreated

he's terrified he will be found out and punished for it

but the dream-husband reassures him, promises him that things will be okay, etc.

he makes harry promise to take care of himself

and i'm thinking in true romantic sense, maybe they spend the night together? :thots:

reality seven - closure

we solidify that harry deserves better, that what has happened is not his fault, etc all the important, healthy things

we have harry reaching out to the people that have been slowly pushed out of his life (mostly by his husband). he’s reconnecting with them, being healthier, i think this section would end with harry going to ron and hermione and telling them the truth, telling them everything

harry is down to his last vial, so he's been saving it

like, he could obviously go and get more, they would give it to him for free, even, but you know it's kind of like

he shouldn't have to rely on that as a coping mechanism any more

dream seven - evermore

i'm thinking harry goes for one last dream, they sit together outside(?) or somewhere else that has significance for harry

they hold hands, harry talks about how much the support has meant to him, what he's learned about himself, what these dreams have taught him

sometimes things don't work out

he knows he needs to walk out and move on

i'll probably cry writing all this so you know it'll be good

the end - it’s time to go

then like i mentioned before, there will be a scene of harry signing divorce papers. his friends are with him, telling them they support him, and he feels... relief. he feels hope.

the story ends with harry attending a party, this time by his own decision. he's here to genuinely mingle with people, with his friends, and have a good time

and then he sees someone

much like the previous dream, it's someone who he once knew

they talk, they catch up, but this time it doesn't feel odd or uncomfortable

harry feels secure with himself, and we end on the hopeful note that this could go somewhere good

[sawyerconfort]

hey I wanted to ask for a Duke angsty fluff with the prompt “your not alone, you never were” as in like the reader and Duke are friends and they find out about Dukes bulimia and try to comfort her and then Duke confesses her feeling for the reader and it ends with fluff

Hey!

It's been a long time since I've been here to write, and I'll definitely do it more often next year. It's just that, my life is completely crazy, I have too many commitments and every time I come back here, I always have a new idea for a fanfic on Wattpad instead hahahaha

Anyway, but that's not the point now. I know I've been promising you this for a while, so here it is. Anon, sorry for the delay, I really wanted to get this to you sooner, and if you didn't give up waiting, I hope you like it!

Enjoy!

No, requests are not open, at least until next year!

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

Not Strong Enough | Heather Duke x Reader

PROMPT: I don't know what to tell you, just that you were in the wrong place at the wrong time with your best friend who always swore she wouldn't hide anything from you.

WARNINGS: Mentions of bulimia, eating disorder, mental health, distorted image, anxiety.

***

"Hi, how are you? Like, class has started, how long does it take you to touch up your makeup?"

You ask. You're standing outside the women's bathroom, trying to get the attention of your best friend, Heather, who is on the other side of the door. It was a long conversation until you got the teacher's permission to leave the class, because the students had just returned from break, and it was like a school rule that you couldn't leave after break, or something like that.

Heather Duke said that she was going to walk you to class, but she needed to touch up her makeup first, and, even though you didn't know exactly how long it would take to do that, you found it strange that she was taking so long.

It wasn't news to anyone that Heather practically lived in the bathroom. The other two Heathers knew why she did this almost all the time, but you, her best friend, apparently didn't even know the half of it, and she refused to tell you, who knows why.

Determined to put an end to this torture, you invented an absurd excuse for the teacher and left the room, going to the bathroom door, where you were now, just being careful that Ms. Fleming didn't catch you and give you detention while you 'spy'.

"I'm almost done, it's just…", you heard her say on the other side, and then, the sentence remained there, incomplete, hanging in an eternal echo on the bathroom door. Heather was never silent, you were fully aware of that, and so, even if it was inconvenient, you did the first thing that came into her head.

Thankful that there were no other girls in the bathroom, for countless reasons, you opened the door abruptly, without even blinking.

The scene was a bit embarrassing and scary at first. You heard someone expel, and then you came across Heather Duke in one of the stalls, bent over the toilet, with the stall door half open because of the wind when you opened the bathroom door.

Running as if this was the last thing you were going to do in your life - and it would probably be because she was going to kill you when she found out that you had practically broken down the door -, you knelt behind her and held her long hair up.

But it was too late. Her perfect green uniform had a few drops of vomit on it, and the smell was even worse.

“Hey, hey, easy, easy…” you murmured, and felt Heather Duke gasp in her arms, scared. "It's okay, it's just me. It's okay, relax."

She took a deep breath and finally raised her head. You made her hair into a loose bun and flushed the toilet, restraining yourself from throwing up too. Then he closed the lid and took it out of the cabin, to the taps. Heather looked in the mirror and sighed, lowering her head shortly after.

"Is everything okay? If you want to throw up again, I'll hold you back," you whispered, worrying. She looked at you for a minute and shook her head. "Okay, then this is better. Now… I know it's a little inconvenient to ask, but why did you lie to me?"

"And I didn't lie, I withheld, they are two different things."

You rolled your eyes, and Heather sighed. Suddenly the idea became a little funny, and you commented, to lighten the mood. "Look, I know the cafeteria food isn't appetizing, okay? You don't need to feel guilty about telling me this, I won't tell anyone."

But his joke didn't have the expected effect on Heather Duke. She looked at you, frowned, then raised her eyebrow.

"Isn't that what you were talking about…?", she whispered, but you heard her, and it was her turn to frown.

"About what?"

"Nothing," Heather said, shaking her head and looking in the mirror again. "You know I didn't eat anything for lunch, don't you?"

You looked at her, frowned again. "You didn't? Why? Did something happen? Or because the mashed potatoes…"

"No, it's not the mashed potatoes, (Y\N), stop talking about food."

"Heather, what's your problem? Tell me, I want to help you, please. You're hiding something from me and I'm your best friend, that's not fair at all, please tell me!"

You didn't expect to express that feeling of anger and fear with so much anxiety and so much euphoria. But you did. And she opened her eyes wide in surprise, swallowing hard. Looking at the ground, you witnessed for the first time the moment Heather Duke let her guard down.

"I withheld something from you because…", she began, and cleared her throat, before turning to you, hands resting on the sink. "…no, you'll hate me forever, and I know I won't be able to handle it."

“Heather, don’t…” you whispered, approaching her slowly. "Tell me, please, I want to help you. I'm not here to hate you, I promise."

She sighed again and lowered her head. "I… I have bulimia, (Y\N)…"

"You what?", yes, that was your first reaction, and of course you couldn't hold back that reaction, such was the shock of receiving this news. "Wait, since when?"

"Since the beginning of the year", she confessed, still very quietly. "I think it started, actually, when I joined the Heathers, and I had to come to high school with this mentality of being popular. I… I didn't like my body and I thought people wouldn't think I was popular and brilliant. If I were…you know, fat."

You swallowed again.

"I didn't know that stopping eating would lead me to this kind of thing, it's just… looking in the mirror was torture, and it got even worse after I started. I wanted to eat something, and every time I saw In my reflection I saw my body distorting, enlarging, and that wouldn't make me a popular girl, so I just… stopped eating because at least that wouldn't make my image distort and people would like me."

"And why did you hide this from me? I would have done anything to help you, anything at all…"

'Because you didn't care about that kind of thing, (Y\N). You saw me and see me as the perfect girl, I know that, and I didn't want… I didn't want to be responsible for getting that image of me out of your head…", she laughed. "Or because I was maybe trying make me look tough, you know? It also helped with me being popular…"

You smiled, but Heather seemed to have something to say, something else, so you waited, patiently.

"And also because… I… I didn't want you to see me as a failure because… because I couldn't stand it," she sighed. "Look, I'm sorry for keeping this from you. I didn't mean for you to be hurt, I was just trying to protect you because… because I love you."

Heather's speech took you by surprise, and you widened your eyes, increasingly confused. She stopped for two minutes and continued babbling, saying that she knew you would figure all this out eventually, and that she felt terrible for liking you as more than a friend, and that you would say she was confusing things, and that you would definitely want to get away from her now that you knew the truth.

And you didn't do any of that. You only stopped her from continuing to speak, pressing your lips to hers and holding her face with both hands. There wasn't a moment where you said you loved her back before the kiss, but it was enough like that. Because there was nothing more like you than surprising a girl with your unexpected, impulse-filled actions.

Heather pulled away from the kiss after a few minutes, frowning in her direction. "Aren't you mad at me because I just confessed to you?"

“Definitely not,” you whispered. "I love you too, silly. And I want you to know that I won't leave you alone. And that you will have me by your side to keep you on track with your looks and your body," you touched her face again. "I love you like this, the way you are, and I don't care if you're fat, ugly, full of pimples or with thin legs like someone who doesn't exercise during the week, regardless of all that, Heather… "

She smiled, as you leaned closer again.

"I love you. I've always loved you and I'll never stop loving you, whatever that may be, in whatever sense…"

"Go out with me?", she whispered, now acting on impulse. "Please?"

Your eyes widened. "What the fuck was that?"

She shrugged.

"I'm just trying. You don't have to accept it if you don't want to."

“I’ll take it, yes, Heather,” you said, and then touched her cheek. "But only if you agree to eat with me. Even if it's measly junk food."

[izzuku]

sweet aftertaste─ 4 a.m

summary: one night after the off-collab your thoughts hunt you, except for this time there's someone there to break them apart.

characters: ike eveland x gn! reader

c/w: mentions of smoking (reader), bad mental health, dealing with depression, intrusive thoughts, kinda angsty at first, angst to fluff, first kiss, night confession (not proofread cause it's late & I'm tired)

a/n: something I wrote while listening to The Neighborhood cause it's my favorite band and my favorite way to self-destruct

The clock was almost hitting 4 am when you decided to step out on the balcony for some fresh air. You didn't expect to feel like shit when you met Vox, Mysta, Nina, Ike, Mika and Luca in person. Don't get me wrong, they're the best people to hang out with; sweet, caring and funny.

The only problem was your own head, reminding you of all the things you did in the past, reminding you that maybe you didn't deserve this happiness. Your actions, your self image and how everyone saw you from the outside only caused you more anxiety. You were aware of yourself all the time and you couldn't avoid thinking about what others might think of you. You told yourself you'd look for help, you told your audience that you're taking care of your mental health but now everything feels like a bitter lie that you made everyone believe.

With a shaky exhale, you closed your eyes, letting the smoke of the almost finished cigarette in your mouth disappear in the darkness of the night sky. “Maybe I should cancel the stream tomorrow with a vague excuse..” you mutter under your breath, catching the salty tears on the corners of your eyes. Another glance to the far ground from the balcony made you bite a sob back.

“[Name]?” A soft-spoken voice appeared in the silence of the city, catching off guard. It was Ike.

As fast as you could, you got rid of your tears, sniffing and squeezing the used cig before turning around. “Ikey, what're you doing here this late? You should be sleeping by now.” “I could ask the same question you know” he took a look at you, his expression turning into one of concern. “Is everything okay?”

"Bet you look stupid right now" you inner laughed at your comment, depicting once again as a failure. At least, you tried to hide it from everybody else. “I'm perfectly fine, why do you ask?” You could hear him exhale, taking some steps in front of you so he could have a better view. You knew Ike wasn't an openly affectionated man, but feeling his own palm on the flesh of your cheek made you shiver. “You can talk to me...you know that, right?”

Your eyes never left his, so caught up in the moment you didn't even notice the tear falling down your cheek, the same cheek he was holding. His eyes softened, pulling slowly into a hug to comfort you. “I always feel like I don't deserve anything...and I can take it anymore Ike” you mumbled on his chest, gripping the shirt tighter each time you recalled the awful memories. His hand found your head, stroking really slow and the hand that was holding your waist pulled you even closer to his body.

“I'm here...don't worry, love...” his words felt like a dream. You thought to yourself: how can someone like him make me feel so alive yet pull me into a sweet slumber. He always made sure everyone was okay, even you, and you couldn't thank him enough for everything he's done.

“Why are you so fucking perfect for fuck's sake...” you sighed with your head low. “No wonder I fell in love with you” you blurred out without noticing, laughing while cleaning your wet cheeks with the sleeve of the jacket.

“You fell... In love with me?” It stuck out to you the fact that an accidental confession spew out of your mouth, making you launch your head up in hopes to not be met with a disgusted face. For your luck, Ike's eyes were bright open with almost the reflection of the moon on them and cheeks flushed red.

You took the matter slowly, gently grabbing his hands while standing straight in front of him. “I guess..you now know it but yeah...it happened a long time ago. I don't know how it happened,I just know that you made me feel loved when all I could do was destroy myself...” your eyes wandered anywhere but his face, afraid to hear a cruel comment.

“If I had known you felt the same... I'd have confessed earlier” his hand raised your chin, a small smile graced his lips before adding something. “I'm really glad that I made you happy [name], you're really important to me”. With a silent question from him you nodded before letting him taste your lips, softly turning into a candy-coated first kiss.

Maybe your nights won't be as lonely as before.

[alpydk]

23 + 14 + 13 + 28 from the writers ask

Please of course, if you got time to answer 😉😊

Thank you for the ask <3

23 - 3 keywords describing my writing Angst! - This is what I prefer to write. It's easy to write, it feels good to write. Concise - I struggle with metaphors and descriptive language, mostly because it's fanfic. Why describe every aspect of Gale's appearance when everyone knows what Gale looks like? Yeah, this cuts my word count down, but I can get to what I want quicker. Evocative - This is my goal, I might not be the best at drawing out images, but emotions I love doing. If I can get a reaction from my writing, that's what I'm going for.

14 - Where is my inspiration from? Sadly real life mostly. The best stories are written from truth. I'm a cliched damaged artist. The romance though I couldn't tell you, probably buried movie scenes or something in my mind. Normally I get inspired to write though just from trying to write. I sit down and start writing a sentence and let my mind carry on with the daydream. 13 - Fandom I'm thinking of writing for. I really want to write some House, I've been reading some good Chase fics but due to the time most have been abandoned half way or they're just not giving me the hurt I need. I'd also love to write some Cahir (Witcher stuff) but Netflix have ruined him and I can't bring myself to read the books again to get his character right. 28 - Least favourite part of writing At the moment it's the actual writing. A month of illness (still not perfect) and now some issues going on at home have really sapped my energy for it. I've got 3 fics on the go, 2 of which are quite dark and triggering so they're being put off. When I can write though, the worst part is comments. Which I know sounds stupid, but negative ones will get under my skin and stay there, and some positive ones I'm very sceptical over (Did they mean it or is it the social media image? - Thanks mental health). Right, I waffled. Thanks again for the ask <3 - Here, have the song I listened to whilst answering these.