#its NOT my fault if someone kills themselves EVEN if i caused the trigger

[carnageacorn]

.

[asherthehimbo]

Always Black Cats And Bitter Coffee: Chapter 6 [part 4]

Chapter 6 [part 4] : finale

warnings: mentions of stabbing, guns, shooting, two deaths, blood, anxiety, blame, guilt

It was a few weeks after Minho and Yunho found you, bound and gagged, with a knife sticking out of your abdomen. Now you were standing in court, the best lawyer your parents could buy one one side of you, Minho on the other, he holds your hand in comfort, squeezing it every now and then to reassure you. Behind you, all your friends are sitting down. Even your parents decided to take time out of their schedule to support you in this trail.

Since you had finally healed enough, it was time to put Sanni on trial, and lucky you because you were her main victim, meaning you had to testify to everything she did. The courtroom is silent, no one dares say anything, and her side is empty. The jury sends you sympathetic glances despite not knowing the whole story, and you hate it. You never did like being looked at in sympathy.

You can’t breathe in here, waiting for Sanni to walk in, the pressure is killing you, you tell Minho you’re gonna go take a walk outside, clear your head a bit, he asks if he needs to come with you, but you tell him you need to be alone. You walk to the back of the courtroom where the door is situated, and right before you open it a loud bang echos from the other side, you hesitate for a moment before hastily opening the door, worried about what had happened, the people in the courtroom behind start to crown together to try and see for themselves, and you vaguely register your friends calling for you.

The scene before you makes your stomach churn all over again, the new scar now placed over your soulmark paining as if the wound had just been made. You look at the security guard lying down on the ground, a bullet hole in his head, next to him stands Sanni, blood splattered over the uniform she wears. She looks tired, her roots are growing out, the pink dye in her hair fading. If this was another time, another place you might have felt bad for her, but you can’t bring yourself to do so anymore.

She looks at you, and there are tears in her eye’s. A part of you is scoffing at the fact that she can actually feel human emotion, but the other part of you, the younger part, the part of you that spent years loving her, it breaks. “You love him, don’t you?” she cocks her head in Minho’s direction, you can’t bring yourself to speak, so you just nod. She brings the gun up to her heart, right where the fake soulmark she plastered on herself is located.

“My heart’s only ever belonged to you, It can’t continue beating without knowing that it’s beating for you.” You wonder where all the other guards are, if nobody’s going to stop her, why she’s suddenly showing such raw emotions that she’s never shown before. “I just want you to live with the fact that the end of my beating heart is your fault.” She says, and your body moves before you can stop it. You reach out, hand brushing with hers as she pulls the trigger, the blood splattering from her heart directly onto you, your hand is intertwined with hers as she falls, causing you to go down with her.

You can’t help the tears that fall, and you hate it. You hate her. You hate the fact that despite everything she’s done, there’s still a part of you that loves her. You feel someone kneeling behind you and wrap their arms around you, vaguely registering its Minho, your actual soulmate, the man you are in love with. You fall backward, releasing your grip from Sanni’s warm hand, and the cold metal weapon rests inside it. You cry into Minho’s chest, not paying attention to the commotion surrounding you.

abc x 2 masterlist | Soulbound masterlist | Stray kids masterlist

Current Taglist[7/30]: @i-dont-know-me-either @gaysontheprince @skzhoes @xavi-in-kpopland @moonlight-894 @foxilsdenn @conwunder

note: rahh, we finally ended the series! thank you to all of you who read and enjoyed my work🫶 I hope you look forward to the next installment of soulbound. and thank you to @wolfferno , who helped me with the last chapter🫶

also do you guys want memes or no???

[haleigh-sloth]

I was wondering if you could help me understand this writing decision in the new chapter. I sent this message to a My Hero discord and was wondering if you had anything to say about it.

So, I’ve put my thoughts to the page a little and I think I’ve figured out why this turn on Tenko’s backstory bothers me so much. It’s because it’s twofold…it makes him into too perfect of a victim and also washes society’s hands of the blood it has on them for not paying attention to him when he was wandering the street. I’ll address each of these in its own paragraph.

First, most abuse victims are not “perfect victims.” They often have unhealthy coping mechanisms that are wrong and unhealthy in themselves, and they do bear partial responsibility for that. It’s harder to relate to Tenko’s struggles with self hatred when they’re completely divorced from reality - he only exists because AFO wants him to exist and only destroys because AFO wants him to destroy at this point. He also doesn’t have to wrestle with those feelings in himself to overcome them. I just don’t think a situation where a victim has no unhealthy coping mechanisms they chose for themselves is realistic to how this issue often plays out irl.

Secondly, Tenko only existing because AFO wanted him to exist absolves society of their sin of ignoring Tenko as he wandered the streets. These leaks make it sound like AFO would have groomed him regardless of whether someone reached out a helping hand, meaning it was of no consequence whether someone helped him or not. This makes every problem in Tenko’s world AFO’s fault, instead of AFO being a trigger pressed on a loaded gun (that loaded gun being the idolization of heroes and treating them as superhuman as a guise for complacency).

I’d appreciate if someone could help me make sense of this writing decision because I’m struggling to understand why it’s here.

I really want to accept this direction for Tenko’s arc, and truth be told I do see some upsides to this development, but I’m having a hard time getting past the perfect victim* + the absolution of hero society.

*To further expand on this point, I also think that Tenko’s turn being inevitable causes people’s worldviews to be challenged less. Both the audience and the characters in series are meant to be challenged by the idea of Tenko being both a perpetrator and a victim, rather than just one or the other. AFO being involved in his life literally since conception pushes him so far into the “victim” category that people don’t have to wrestle with the concept of his salvation and humanity anymore. I see this as only a negative but I’d like to know what you think.

Also sorry for bugging you so much with asks lately, i can be really annoying

I don’t think Tenko is anywhere near what could be described as a “perfect victim”. He takes his anger out on the space around him and damn near everyone in it. He’s killed a lot of people who had absolutely nothing to do with his misery and suffering. He’s targeted Izuku and Bakugo (for like, very distorted reasons) but they had nothing to do with his life sucking so bad.

He is far from perfect. If there is one in MHA (doesn’t rly exist tho) it’s Eri, I guess.

It seems like what you’re thrown by is AFO being implicated even further. But this really changes nothing. AFO didn’t make people ignore Tenko on the street. And society’s flaws are emphasized in more than one place.

Tenko learning the truth doesn’t take away the sting of being ignored on the street. It just makes the death of his family way worse because it wasn’t just a freak accident, it was forced upon him. It just turned into something that was done to him. It’s horrific, no matter how involved AFO was from the get go. Everyone who was responsible for their part in his pain, still is. Nothing really changes.

Tenko was always helpless from the start. And he still is, he always has been, he never stood a chance. That doesn’t change with this new revelation.

He’s not a victim that has 0 reasons to feel conflicted about (although, I don’t lol). He’s done a lot of damage to other people. He’s perpetrated the cycle of violence, very much actively participated in it. It is obviously from a place of pain and revenge and hopelessness, but still people who weren’t involved ended up being involved whether they asked to be or not. Not that we’re supposed to care about off-screened people, but that’s what makes him an antagonist, after all. He’s not a black and white antagonist. If you’re feeling less conflicted about him being saved, then Horikoshi’s writing accomplished its goal. You’re supposed to want him saved by this point because that’s how the protagonist feels, and the writing tells you it’s the right thing to do and the right direction for the story.

I don’t think anything about Tenko’s victim status changes. Everyone’s responsibility is still the same. It’s all the same, just AFO sucking more and more.

[nastybuckybarnes]

Of Kings and Beasts  -  Eight

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrust to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings: Angst, Injuries, Fluff, 

Word Count: 3.6K

A/n: I’m alive! I know, it’s been like 4 months. I honestly didn't know how to ‘come back’ so this is it. I’ll be answering asks and messages tonight, but things are going okay. I work 54 hours a week so I’m not writing as much as I’d like to but I’m trying!!! I love you all so much, and I hope you enjoy this!

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!

Series Masterlist

The doctor lies unmoving on a medical cot, stitches across his throat to close the gouge that was meant to end his life.

“Do we have any idea who is behind this? Or why?” Steve asks quietly, eyes darting between his most trusted man and his husband.

“I do not know who is behind it, but I think they are aware that we know.” Steve’s brows pull together at his husband’s words, and he waits for him to continue.

James huffs out a deep breath, glancing around the small room as if checking for any listening ears.

“Doctor Banner found an incision on the base of my skull. Someone has performed an operation on me without my knowing. I’m assuming the Doctor found something out, and while on his way to find me he was ambushed.”

Steve’s still stuck on the fact that his husband has been tampered with.

“What do you mean someone performed an operation on you?” James shakes his head. “I’m not sure what they did, but I have reason to believe that it is why I have been so hostile towards... our wife.” He fears saying your name. He doesn’t want anything to trigger the beast.

“How long have you known this?” Steve demands, angry that James would keep something like this from him.

“Since the day she went out into the snow. I was not sure who I could trust. I still know not. But one thing is certain: someone means to kill our wife and destroy our marriage, and it is someone close to us.” Regret instantly fills the blond king and he excuses himself without another word, head swarming with thoughts that include nothing but pain and punishment.

His feet take him down the spiral staircase, his hands wrenching open the cell door and grabbing the prisoner by his collar.

“Who is it that sent you?! Tell me! Now!” The man is confused for a moment before a yellow-toothed grin splits his face.

“You will tell me now!” Steve pulls his fist back and slams it against the man’s face, but the prisoner only laughs manically.

“Who is it that intends on hurting my wife? On ruining my marriage?” The man shakes his head, blood dribbling down his chin.

“The only one who ruins your marriage and hurts your wife is you, your majesty. But from what I hear through the walls, your bloodline ends with you. The great Kings of the West will be nothing more than fairytales. Their whore wife, a forgotten name. And that will be your doing.” Steve’s vision clouds and he unleashes his fury upon the prisoner, beating him to a bloody pulp until his face is hardly visible.

The King stumbles back, chest heaving and fists covered in blood, while the man slumps to the floor, wheezing and gasping.

“Cut off one head... two more shall take its place,” is the last thing the man utters before collapsing in a pool of his own blood.

Steve stands there, furious and dumbfounded. He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t realize he isn’t alone anymore until a cool hand is on his shoulder, turning him around.

“What happened?” James asks, his eyes on the dead man on the floor and then on his husband’s bloody fists.

“Your assumption is correct. Someone has orchestrated this and we are being toyed with. Where’s (Y/n)?” The mention of your name has James squeezing his eyes shut as the beast bares its fangs.

“I know not. But you haven’t time for that. Thor and Anthony should be here within the hour. You need to make yourself presentable. We will tell them of our problem and see if they can offer any assistance.” Steve doesn’t want to meet with the other Kings. No, he wants to find you and get on his knees and beg for forgiveness, of which you may or may not grant, but he’s willing to beg and plead in front of his entire kingdom if he needs to.

“Come on. Let’s go get you cleaned up.” James ushers the blond out of the dungeon and to his chambers, his mind racing as he tries to piece the mystery together.

~*~

Your eyes trace over the trails etched in the book in your grasp, trying desperately to memorize them.

You’re so engaged in your reading that you don’t notice the man in front of you until you’re walking into him.

“Oh!” You stumble back, the book falling from your grasp as you lose your footing. The man is quick and grabs you around the waist to prevent you from falling.

“I am very sorry, Your Majesty. You must forgive me, for I was not paying attention to where I was walking.” The man has a deep, booming voice, his accent different than the ones you’re used to.

“It’s quite alright. I was hardly paying attention myself.” You look up at him and your eyebrows raise.

He’s an absolute Adonis of a man.

With beautifully kind blue eyes, a warm and inviting smile, and long locks of blond hair that are pulled back into a half-bun.

“It must be an interesting story that you were reading then?” He questions, hand dropping from around your waist as he stoops down to pick up your book.

“You could say that.” You’re nervous. You know not who this man is nor where his allegiance lies.

“This is a book of maps. Have you a journey planned?” He seems just genuinely curious but you’re defensive nonetheless.  

“Might I ask who you are and why you need to know?” He raises his brows then chuckles.

“I suppose we have not been introduced, although I have heard many things about you. I am King Thor, of Asgard. And you are Queen (Y/n). Born of Orlen but wed in Acadia. The Kings eagerly awaited your arrival, I must say. And you are every bit as beautiful as they said.”

You shake your head bashfully.

“May I know where your journey will take you? It will remain a secret between the two of us. You have my word.” You ponder this for a moment, but he looks so kind and so genuine, you can’t stop yourself from telling him.

“Well if you must know, I’m leaving.” He huffs a breath of surprise.

“Leaving? But for what purpose? You are a queen.”

You laugh softly at that, the tugging up of your cheeks making your cuts burn.

“A queen, yet I am treated like a prisoner. You must forgive me for speaking so plainly in your presence, but I fear that I have lost any sense of... propriety in this place. My husbands may have spoken highly of me, but that was before they met me, I suppose. Now... I am nothing more than a thorn in their sides.”

Thor shakes his head, not believing a word coming from your mouth.

“That cannot be.” You sigh heavily and tug the collar of your gown down, showing him the dark bruises around your neck.

“From his Majesty, King James. And King Steven gave me these.” You show him the bruises on your arms next.

He’s absolutely appalled.

“And I assume they are the ones responsible for these?” One of his warm fingers traces across the marks on your cheeks and you nod.

“I do not blame you for wanting to leave. You must feel stifled.” You nod, taking his outstretched arm and allowing him to lead you down the hallway.

“It... has not been an easy transition. I have not even seen my kingdom yet. I know not what it has to offer nor if it is thriving. I have not met my people or even seen my lands. This place is supposed to be home to me, but it is no more than a prison with hot water and soft sheets.”

Thor’s quiet for a long moment and you regret every speaking. Just as you’re about to tug free from his grip and lock yourself back in your chambers, he turns to you.

“We cannot simply allow you to not know what your kingdom has to offer! I am making it my duty to show you the beauties of Acadia.” Your eyebrows raise.

“But surely you’re here on business? You mustn’t have time for something as tedious as that.” He takes your hand and brings it up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your knuckles. “A chance to get to know the Queen? Show her that her Kingdom is not all bad? That is not tedious. The Kings can wait. They have Anthony. I will take you through the Kingdom and show you all that there is to see.”

~*~

Thor is true to his word and shows you every nook and cranny in the Kingdom. From the poorest parts to the wealthiest.

“This is the village orphanage. I often come to volunteer my time, however business has kept me away for far longer than I’d like to admit.” You pull your cloak tighter around yourself at the biting chill of the wind, a frown on your face as you look at the run-down building.

“Do the kings not know the ruins of their Kingdom? Surely something can be done to fix this building. The children must be freezing.” You’re reminded of your own experience in the cold confines of the north tower in Orlen. The small chamber you were locked in whenever your adoptive mother did not want to see you.

“The Kings often busy themselves with their work. They are conquerors. They have not the time for such trivial tasks. It would be the duty of a queen to fix the Kingdom, here at least. They are my friends, and they are good at taking, however it seems they know little of giving back.” You nod at this, knowing firsthand how much they can take and not give back.

“I wish I had known that the kingdom was in such ruins. I would have made it my priority.” He looks at you for a long moment, wondering what on Earth could cause the Kings to treat you so poorly.

“If you would like, I can help you to arrange some repairs? Perhaps we can make it your project? Have you in charge of it. It could be your first official duty as Queen.” You smile but shake your head sadly, turning away from the orphanage and back towards your horses.

“I doubt the Kings would approve of something like that. I’m sure I will have their wrath to face for having kept you from your business for so long. I fear what they will do to me, if I am quite honest with you. Steven was lovely before but... he has... I know not how to explain it.” Thor comes up behind you and places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I will ensure that they do not bring any more harm to you, Petal. You have endured far more than should be expected of you. You have little to gain, and yet you remain here for them.” You shrug, walking with him to your horses.

“My situation were I to leave would not be very different. I have nowhere to go and no one to turn to. I am alone both in the Kingdom and outside of it.” Thor hates the truth behind your words.

“Come, let’s get you back to the Palace before you catch your death.” He helps you up onto the horse then gets on his, mind full of everything you’ve told him and all that he needs to discuss with the Kings.

~*~

He walks you to your chambers, having told Wanda to draw a warm bath for you. As he reaches the wooden door, he pauses and smiles warmly at you.

“I very much enjoyed our time today, Your Majesty. I hope to spend more time with you during my stay. But unfortunately, I must go.”

As he’s turning to leave, a voice calls your name. The way you stiffen has Thor grinding his teeth together in frustration.

“Your Majesty,” you greet, bowing your head to your husband while your hand inches to your door.

“May I speak with you? Please?” You open your mouth to reply but Thor cuts you off.

“Actually, Steven, I believe you and I have matters of our own.” And just like that, The booming blond ushers your husband down the hallway. Steve’s blue eyes stay on you, his head turned to look over his shoulder as much as he can until they round the corner and render you out of sight.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and enter your bedroom, smiling tightly at Wanda as she helps you into your bath.

~*~

“You were with (Y/n) all day?” Thor shrugs, “would it matter if I was? It seems that I am the only friend she has.” Steve grinds his teeth together but huffs a breath out through his nose.

“I understand that I have been unfair, but all I want is to make things better between the two of us.”

Thor shakes his head, thick arms crossed over his broad chest as he looks between the two kings. “That can wait. What is it that you needed to discuss with me so urgently?”

Steve sighs and looks over at James as if trying to figure out where to begin.

“We believe that someone is trying to sabotage our marriage to break us apart and overthrow our rule. And it must be someone close to us. James has been... tampered with. And I was made to question the loyalties of my own wife. My anger and haste for answers have... brought forth a beast I had hoped to keep hidden from her. And I fear I have played my part in the sabotage of my marriage.” Thor thinks about how helpless you sounded, how absolutely broken down you seemed and can’t help but agree with Steve’s words.

“If someone is plotting to overthrow your rule, they must be close. Close enough to know of any decisions being made. It would be wise to deceive them.” James furrows his brows in confusion. “Make it seem as if they are winning. Send away your wife and tell no one the truth.”

Steve’s shocked at the suggestion.

“Send her away? To where? And with whom? We cannot very well abandon her when people mean to kill her!” Thor purses his lips for a moment before smiling.

“She won’t be alone.”

The other two Kings stare at him as if he’s grown a second head.

“You mean to stay with her? And protect her?”

“Your wife is a spitfire, that much I can tell. She may come across as a woman of few words, but she has a raging soul that cannot be so easily tamed. She wishes to leave you, plans to.”

James’ shoulders cave and Steve’s face crumbles.

“She told you this?” The brunet asks, voice hoarse and weak.

“Not in so many words, but the desire is there. She is unhappy. If she would agree, I would take her to Asgard to be a wife of my own, however, her heart is loyal to Acadia.” The two kings each glare at the big blond man, angry at the very thought of someone taking their wife from them.

Thor continues, unbothered by their anger.

“Which is why she should be sent away. I have a cottage at the border of Asgard and Acadia. My men will be around and you can send men of your own. I will stay with her until she is comfortable and then I will take my leave, but for her safety and her sanity, she must leave the Palace.”

The silence in the room hangs heavily over all three men for a long while before Steve nods.

“Very well. If it is truly in her best interests, then fine. But I will not shun her without giving her a proper explanation.” Thor bows his head as Steve rushes past him, heading towards your chambers.

He knocks once then slowly pushes the door open, desperate to see you and grovel at your feet.

You’re seated on your bed, a book in hand and a shocked expression on your face.

“Your Majesty,” you greet softly, bowing your head.

“No, (Y/n) none of that. I was... out of line. I will never be able to apologize enough for everything I have done to you.” You say nothing but your heart hurts at the fact that Thor clearly told him something.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Your Majesty,” you say stiffly, moving your gaze back down to the book in your lap.

He sits on the edge of your bed, his eyes on the scratches decorating your delicate face.

“We have been unkind and unfair to you, my darling. I hope that one day you will forgive us, but until then, there is something we must discuss.” You have no idea where this conversation could be going, and that thought alone scares you.

“You will be leaving tonight.”

Your face must display the confusion and fear you feel at his words because he’s quick to clarify.

“Joining Thor and staying in a cottage where our kingdoms border. There are people here, people close to myself and James that wish to do you harm.” He takes your hand gently between both of his and presses a soft kiss to your fingers.

“It pains me to do it, but I know you need it as well. You’ve been deprived here. No friends and no family. We’ve treated you terribly and not as Queen should be treated." You keep your eyes cast down towards your lap, unable to bear seeing the King so distraught in front of you.

He sniffles and places another kiss to the back of your hand.

“I hope that you will return soon, but if you must take time then I understand. When you do decide you are ready to return, we will both be waiting with open arms.” He pauses for another moment before speaking again, his voice softer than before.

“I had hoped that James would join me but he... he is not well. But he misses you dearly, of that I am certain. The days will darken with your departure.” He presses another kiss to your knuckles then slowly rises to his feet.

“No one is to know the true reason for your departure. You mustn't tell anyone, for I fear you will not be safe if you do. Can you promise me that?” He asks, his eyes full of desperation and sorrow.

“Yes, your majesty.” His heart cracks at the fact that you’re still not addressing him by his name, but he realizes it will take time for the bond to be rebuilt between the two of you.

“Wanda will pack your things then you will be met by Thor and he will take you somewhere safe.” He cups your cheek gently, sniffling and trying to fight tears.

“I am so very sorry that your own home is a place that causes you pain.” With that, he turns on his heel and exits your chambers without so much as another glance, the pain he’s feeling evident in the tightness of his shoulders and the stiffness of his walk.

It’s not five minutes later when Thor is at the door to your chambers, sliding a thick wool cloak over your shoulders and pulling the hood up to cover your face.

“Just a precaution, Your Majesty. And the wind has a bit of a bite to it. But a carriage is waiting.” You nod your understanding and follow him silently out of the palace that has been no more than a prison to you.

Steve and James watch from separate windows as you climb into the carriage, not sparing a single glance back at the palace. But they cannot find it in themselves to blame you. What you have been forced to endure is far worse than anyone should have to. Especially someone as delicate as yourself.

A dark cloud falls over the kingdom as their queen is whisked away, brought to a safe haven that their kings couldn’t provide, by a man who is not even a member of their kingdom.

~*~

The journey to Thor’s cottage is a fairly quiet one, far too many thoughts racing in your mind and feelings in your heart.

“You are unhappy to be leaving the Palace?” Thor asks, confusion evident in his voice. You sigh heavily and shake your head, turning to look at him.

“It is a relief to be able to speak freely, however, I cannot help the guilt that I feel. It is my duty to do what the require of me, regardless of whether or not I enjoy it.” Thor shakes his head, a frown on his handsome face.

“No human should ever have to endure that. Regardless of their duties. You will not be shunned by the kings and even if you were, I’m sure Orlen would accept you back with open arms.”

You chuckle once, the sound dull and lacking humour.

“Orlen could not care any less about me if they tried. I’m not a princess to them. Merely the bastard of a King. One who was convenient to use in a trade agreement. My father would have me beheaded if he knew I was running from the kings.”

Thor is rendered speechless by this new information, his heart heavy for you, the delicate princess who deserves a far better fate than the one gifted to her.

[kunimikat]

hi! i'm having a hard time mentally lately and i recently found out that i kind of erm,,,,, when my mental health is really bad my brain is like "no!😀" and skyrockets me into absolute baby mode and just want cuddles and love and i feel really lonely and don't talk a lot. bokuto is my comfort character so if you woudlnt mind could you do some headcanons or whatever you want- about him helping? feel free to ignore this i know it's a bit strange💔 but i thought i'd throw it out there :) 💞

I really hope it gets better for you, I hope my shitty HCs somehow makes your day a little better. Lots of love 🥺🤲❤️oh and this might’ve come off more angsty but I promise I put fluff at the end. And listen to this while reading cause it just makes this- 💔🦟🦗🦟🦗❤️

Requests are open! And if you have requests like this I’m happy to do them :)

Also proof read but still might be mistakes.sorry, there might be some triggering things in here, but there is nothing crazy so I think it’s ok 🧍

Before you guys even got together he’d always check up on you.

To the point were he subconsciously did it anywhere, and anytime

He’d give you small owl knickknacks or a snack before school started, or when it ended. Making sure you ate something that day.

Or he’d just try to make you laugh as much as he could during then

But sometimes he’d drop everything, and just give you a tight hug. Anywhere, no matter who it was in front of. Holding you close to him, not saying anything but you could hear him tripping over the words he wanted to say but just couldn’t.

He could tell it was a bad day where you’d come in and just sit on the benches or bleachers with both in mind but staring at the bright fluorescent gym lights. Where you’d just zone out mid-conversation and look at your feet or phone in disinterest. When you’d throw in a sarcastic self-deprecation joke when someone would ask if you’re ok.

Or when you’d have days where you’d stay up studying, doing your homework, and not sleeping for who knows how long when you come in with the energy drink in hand. Or the days when you’d get nothing done, and just sleep everything away and just deal with it the next day.

It didn’t take a therapist or a mastermind to tell you weren’t ok.

The nervous tics, the small lip bites, the impulsive “Let’s do something and think about consequences later!”

Bokuto knew he was just like the latter but at least it wasn’t all the time, so when he saw his bestfriend and crush slowly killing themselves mentally (and maybe physically, he was hoping not), yet cracking jokes about it the next second. All he wanted to do was run in and kiss you until all you felt was loved.

He just wanted to see you happy again

He felt like fainting everytime he saw you giggle or laugh at his antics(knowing Bokuto that has probably happened)

Or when you and Ahgkaaashi would hang out with him at the Owl section of the Zoo and pick out your favorite ones

When you two would try cooking some dish either of you couldn even try pronouncing and it ending in a mess. One he didn’t mind cleaning up when he got to talk to you throughout the whole time.

The times you’d have to turn in your work a little late because you were helping Bokuto cope after losing a game, which he felt bad about but you brushed it off with a genuine smile saying “I can’t leave poor Akaashi with Bokuemo for the rest of the week can I?” “H-Hey!”

When you and Bokuto would hang out in the bird themed cafe on the end of the street from school. And just be yourselves without having to impress anyone.

How you excuse yourself from the group of people you barely knew the names of, to go cry in the bathroom then come back as if nothing happened.

Times where you both forget your in highschool with insecurities, voice cracks, stress, and having to make a decision regarding the rest of your life by the end of it. And just laying in some random parking lot, staring into the blaring street lamp light and the stars behind it.

Bokuto loved it when you didn’t use the jokes to cover up how you felt. Or how you jumped to another subject when he would ask. When you tell him everything you’re feeling.,

The confusion, the way you didn’t know why your mind worked the way it did and why you felt horrible all of a sudden but fine the next.

You wanted it to stop, to have an explanation for the way you think and why. Yet now you’re telling no one, and clearly holding it in. Bokuto was now watching you letyour emotions eat you alive from the inside out.

He just wanted the you he knew. The you that he had so many fun memories with. Not the forced persona you played when you needed a cover up for how you truly felt.

This wasn’t the way he wanted to confess but it was getting all too much for Bokuto to watch,

Bokuto’s tears were streaming down his face as he had you held out in front of him. His body was trembling and his grasp was so shaky it was easy to break away. But you knew you could ever do that to him, or yourself. He clenched his jaw , not being able to lock eyes with you, a painful tug at his heart everytime he locked eyes with your hopeless look. You felt tears brimming your eyes yet you didn’t even know why he sat you down here. But you felt it was your fault, so immediately you let out a ‘Sorry-‘

Instead of an answer Bokuto pulled you toward him, pushing your head into the crook of his neck. You let out a choked noise as surprise, instinctively wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Why...why’re you saying sorry Y/N? I should be saying sorry for not helping you, I-“

Bokuto lost his breath for a second as a silent sob wracked his body, bringing you closer to him. Tears were falling down from your eyes but you could barely feel them as they became a stream.

“Y/N, I love you, I love you so, so much. Why are you doing this to yourself? You know you could come talk to me, I-I’m not the the best therapist but,-“

He let out a shaky breath, pulling you back out to look at you directly. You squeezed his arm that was holding you, reassuring him you felt the same way, but also to go on. Puffy eyes and a tear stained face looked at you sternly. “Please, please don’t keep these feelings to yourself Y/N. It hurts, it hurts me so much when I see you like this. Especially since you feel like you can’t come to me. I-, I-“

Bokuto bit his lip, clenching his eyes tight, forcing the tears that were already threatening to fall out. “I don’t want to see you like this. I love you, I love you.”The only thing lacing his tone is the sincerity in it.

He says it again to make sure you understood every word that came from him. But he didn’t need to. His grip so tight on your arms it almost hurt. But in a way, you didn’t mind it as it showed you how much more serious this was to him.

“You have me, Kaashi, the team, and honestly anyone! We all love you and what you have to say!”

You both give small shaky laughs, despite the situation, the tension slowly melting. He wipes the tears that were flowing down your cheeks, kissing each one after he did. You held each one of his hand. Squeezing them to give yourself courage, and to know this was all too real.

“Bokuto...I’m so sorry to you and everyone else. I- I locked myself away because I thought I would be bothering you and everyone and could just get over it then push the feelings down. But now seeing you...seeing you so much...pain, someone I love hurt because of me. I...I really realize how I was affecting everyone.”

Bokuto tried denying but you shook your head, your eyes that were looking down were now up at him.

“I’ve come to reality especially after seeing you like this Bo, I love you too, and I want to make it up to you this whole week! No, month...year? Whatever. I’ll be better for our future. And you know what, why don’t I help you with that math homework so we’re both gonna get better at something by the end of the week!”

Laugher filled the once cold room with a feeling of warmth that you couldn’t explain. Bokuto leaned in and gave a small peck. You were about to give a small hum in happiness. Until he pulled far back away from you in panic.

“I-Is something wrong Bo? Does my breath stink-“

“N-NONONO NOTHING LIKE THAT. ITS JUST...I just kissed you without asking...a-and I read in a magazine you’re supposed to do that or your crush won’t like you back!”

Silence.

But you interrupted it with your laughter, holding onto to one of his shoulders to not fall over. He had a confused look on his face as he fidgeted, not knowing what to do. “Y-Y/N! What?”

“You’re so stupid Bo,”

And like that you pulled him into a kiss, one he quickly melted into. He made a small surprised noise, but that was the only noise of complaint. The kiss turned into Bokuto giving you pecks all over your face. A giddy feeling in your stomach with each one. Between the kisses you say “Y’know I’m surprised you decided to sit down and read a magazine without testing on the real deal.” His face has a small flush, instead of saying anything he just kisses you aggressively all over, causing you to reel back and laugh harder. He pulls away from the assault and grabs your hand. He leads you over to the couch and hugs you as you both flop onto the couch. You looked at him confused, “Bo?”

But he just turned the TV on, clicked through the channels, until he found one he liked. He looked over at you excitedly, “Let’s cuddle and watch the movie I was talking about last week!”

The genuine excitement in his voice was all it took to have you wrapped around his finger. So now it was getting late and you were falling asleep to Bokuto gently rubbing his hand in circles on your back. And his faint smell of cologne luring you to sleep.

Hey! Sorry if this is on the shorter side, but I tried packing as much emotion as I could into it to make up. I hope you enjoyed this, cause I added a few of my little issues into it so I hope you don’t mind. (Also along with some people ik) I really hope it gets better for you, hopefully by now even though this came out late (sorry really busy this month for some reason🧍) if you need anyone to talk to I’m always open to hear❤️..

[primalsouls]

white rabbit pt 4

langa hasegawa x gn! reader (pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3)

anon: will white rabbit have a part 4? ( if yes pls pls give them a happy ending hehe ) but its oki if you dont want to, no pressure! i just really enjoyed it and i love ur writing btw :)

⚠️ : im terrible at picking up what's a trigger, so let me know is there's anything uncomfortable!

theme: general

note: ooh my heart 💔 rip white rabbit 🐇🙏🕊 anyway, here's pt 4! :> i hope you like it and enjoy it! and thank you for reading! let me know what you think. :) i really like this chapter the most lol

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

"Leave... Wonderland?"

"Forever?"

Reki and Langa stared at Adam with frowns on their face. Eyes widen at the words. Whispers surrounded them quick, destroying the small silence that gave the words to settle in for everyone. Blue eyes looked back at the [h/c]-haired skater. Their head still hanged low but he could see the sheer rage their fists held.

"He's saying that... [Y/N] [L/N], the White Rabbit, is leaving S." Miya repeated.

"Forever. Meaning.... They're kicked out." Shadow sighed, shaking his head.

Hearing those words, [Y/N] gritted their teeth and unclenched their fists. They looked up at Adam, a pleading expression on their face as they pulled their hoodie back.

"P-please... I don't wanna leave." They said, voice cracked in the beginning. Langa's heart broke at the sight. But before he could do anything, Adam walked up to them. "I'll do anything, please. Let me stay!" They continued but they flinched when their board was taken away from them harshly by Adam.

"A bet is a bet. Besides, it's about time S gets rid of its pests." Adam grinned. He snapped his finger, a couple of men bringing in a can of gasoline and a box of matches. Their eyes widen. Langa and the rest of his friends stood frozen, unable to believe the scene before them. Silence took over the crowd. [Y/N] knew they couldn't do anything to stop Adam from destroying their skateboard. "You should have won and this wouldn't happen. Remember, it's your fault." He said quietly. And with sheer power, he lifted the board and broke it in half with his knee. [Y/N] stared at him with wide eyes and mouth gaped slightly in shock. Tears pooled up and streamed down their cheeks one by one, one after the other.

"N-no... please, don't..." They whispered, a hand reaching out weakly but it didn't move much. [Y/N] was too shock to move any more than an inch.

Adam threw the broken board on the ground. He was handed the gasoline and the box of matches. He poured the liquid over the pieces, his masked eyes never leaving his younger sibling's face. Their look of terror filled him with chills. He loved it. Such as he loved the finish touch to the punishment. With elegance, Adam pulled out a match and stroke it on the igniter side of the box. Fire bursts on the matchstick. Adam flicked it onto the broken board like it was nothing and within seconds, flames burst to life, consuming the skateboard.

Langa watched with horror. [Y/N] didn't deserve that. They didn't deserve to leave. A bet wasn't even established. So, why? Why was this happening? His eyes went up to [Y/N].

"White Rabbit-"

"They're no longer go by that title." Adam interrupted coldly. "By losing this beef, no only are they banned from S, their title is no longer theirs to claim. White Rabbit is dead." Langa's eyes widen as his frown deepened. He couldn't believe it. This was not supposed to happen. Not supposed to lead to this results. No one supposed to be kick out or strip from their title. Adam reached a hand out. Langa saw how tensed [Y/N] got as the hand grew closer to them. The gloved fingers gently held into the S pin. It was on their collar of their hoodie but the next second, it wad ripped off from them. He threw it into the flames.

"I... I'm sorry..." [Y/N] apologized. Langa didn't understand. There was nothing to apologize for. Was it for Adam? For losing the race and everything they built for themselves? [Y/N] kept staring at the board, not noticing Adam turned his back on them. But his last words lef them in breaking in pieces.

"And don't bother coming home. A wild animal like you don't belong there. Never had and never will." As his final saying, Adam picked up his board and walked away but stopped to face Langa with a smirk. "Oh, and once again, my dear SNOW, congratulations." Langa blinked, watching Adam disappeared from everyone's sight.

"Damn..." Shadow muttered.

"Vanished from S... what a turn of events." Miya commented quietly.

Reki frowned at Adam's disappearing figure before he turned to Langa and [Y/N]. Everyone else slowly departed. Reki walked up to the two skaters, the broken board still caught in flames. Tears continued to spill from their eyes, Reki saw. Before the two could say any sort of comfort words to them, [Y/N] turned away from them and ran, ran as fast as they could. Away. They needed to get away and breathe. They couldn't breathe properly. Their chest was killing them. Sobs caught in their throat when they tried to cry. It hurts them. Their heart hurts. Everything was always their fault. They deserved. They believed they deserved it. They weren't a Shindo. They were a pest in the family. That was why Adam-no-Ainosuke told them not to come home. He was kicking them out. He was probably make up a lie to their aunts to make it seem it was their decision. For the better of the Shindo Family, they would say.

Life truly wasn't fair.

"C'mon, let's go!" Langa said, getting ready to chase after them but Reki grabbed his arm, pulling him back. He winced, the grip on his arm reminded him of the injuries he received during the race. "Wha- what? We have to go after them, Reki." He said, pointing towards [Y/N] running off.

"But you'll hurt even more with injuries like this. Besides, it's not our business. What happened with them was between them and Adam." Reki said. Miya nodded as he walked up to them.

"He's right, Langa. We should stay out of it. They're no longer of importance." Miya added in, crossing his arms over his chest. Langa frowned at the two boys.

"It's probably not the best time to even go after them. It's best that we mind our own business for now." Shadow advised, the other two boys giving affirmative responses. Langa tried to come up with reasons to go after them, but Reki shook his head and led Langa awau from the factory, pointing out the cuts once again. That was the last time Langa saw [Y/N].

The past couple of weeks, they were no were in sight. No familiar white hoodie resembling a white rabbit was found around S. No one spoke about them. It was like they never existed in the first place. As if S never heard of a skater called White Rabbit. Langa tried to find ways to get into contact with them but whenever he mentioned them, he was ignored, shut down, avoided. He was worried for them, for their safety. If Adam truly meant his words, then where would [Y/N] be? Langa wanted to make sure they were okay. That was all he wanted to know.

"[Y/N]... where are you?" Langa muttered as he walked through the park. He was planning to meet Reki at their usual hangout. Although, he wanted to clear his mind out of [Y/N] and the events that occurred. It wasn't their fault. It was his. If he never beef against them, Langa would had still see them every night at S, even from a fair distance to admire them. They would still be in his life, somehow.

"Ah, sorry..." A tired voice said. Langa looked down, not realizing he bumped into someone. He did felt something hit him as he walked, but he didn't pay too much attention. Langa opened his mouth to apologize instead but words were caught in his throat. His eyes widen. He couldn't believe it. The board in his hand dropped to the ground beside him, both hands reaching up a bit.

"It's you..." Langa whispered. Confusion replaced the apologic gaze on their face. "White Rabbit." When the title left his lips, it was their turn for their eyes to grew wide. Langa smiled brightly. "It's you, White Rabbit. [Y/N]." Langa was happy. He found his white rabbit once more. But no more words left Langa's lips as a hand slapped his cheek. It took him a second to register the outcome. A shaky hand of his reached to touch the burning cheek. He flinched when his fingers came into contact. "Wh-what?" A handprint appeared as a light red shade on his cheek. His eyes focused on them. They didn't wore their signature hoodie. Only a black one with dark blue jeans and white Vans shoes. Their eyes were still the same crimson color but filled with anger. And sadness? Langa parted his lips, unable to say anything.

"Don't call me that name. Because of you, I'm no longer.... that..." [Y/N] spat out, glaring dangerously at Langa. "You took everything away from me. You ruined my life!" They yelled, all the feelings they tried to bottle in exploded. Langa watched with a shook expression as they ranted off on him. He may be dense to others' emotions but he could pick up the hurt in [Y/N]'s voice. The way they trembled with rage. He didn't like that. Langa didn't like seeing them upset. Especially when hd was the one who caused it.

"I'm sorry."

[Y/N] paused, staring at Langa with wide eyes. Their frown grew deeper as they tried to find any sort of pity or joke in his baby blue eyes. In which they felt like they were looking at the ocean. So blue. Like the sky. [Y/N] shook their head rapidly, gritting their teeth.

"Oh, shut up. I don't need your pity. And I doubt you're sorry! Because of you, not only was I kicked out of S, I was kicked out of my home... Not like it ever felt like home anyway..." They said, mumbling the last words but Langa caught them.

"Wait? Home... Where were you staying at?" Langa asked, voice filled with concern. [Y/N] scrunched their nose, eyes narrowed. "I swear, I'm not pitying you. I'm actually... worried. I've been worried for a long time now. Ever since you left S." Langa said, looking away from them, sudden feeling timid for no particular reason. They raised a brow, watching Langa's movements to fact-check his worries. There was no hint of him lying. But they still kept their guard up. "I even asked around back in S for the past few weeks. Not one single person said anything...It's like you-"

"-never existed." They continued for him softly, eyes casted down to the ground. Their features relaxed but Langa noted the sadness stayed. No anger in sight. They sighed tiredly, running a hand through their hair. "Doesn't matter... Just stop it." [Y/N] crossed their arns over their chest, raising a brow. "Beside, the hell you kept asking about me? Aren't you happy I've been kicked?"

Langa shook his head right away once the question next their lips.

"No. I'm not happy. In fact, I..." Langa took a deep breath, trying to think on his words before they left his mouth. "I'm not enjoying myself." He mumbled, making [Y/N] take a step closer to hear him properly. They tilted their head, lips tugged down a bit as they urged him to repeat himself and keep going. "It makes me sad not to see you at S anymore. I didn't want any of that to happen. I didn't even know what was going on." Langa shrugged, looking at them with a pout. A pout they found adorable. He looked like a kicked puppy who didn't like the fact their owner left their home everyday. [Y/N] mentally cringed at the thought. What were they thinking? This was the same guy who went up against their brother and banned them from S. They hated him. They were supposed to hate him. [Y/N] clicked their tongue, throwing Langa off the sense, wondering if he said anything wrong. A faint red hue decorated their cheeks. They turned their back on him, hugging themselves.

"Whatever. Whether you knew what was going on or not, doesn't matter. My board got destroyed and I can't go back to S. Everything happened..." [Y/N] whispered, arms slowly fell back to their sides as they watched the sun beginning to settle down for the rest of the day. "I've got nothing... I've got no one-"

"You got me." Langa butt in. The words made them do a double take on him. It caught them off guard. And Langa continued to surprise them. A determined glint in his eyes as he stepped closer. "Reki can build you a new board and we can all skate. Together. We can skate outside of S, anyway. It'll be fun!" Langa bounced a bit in his steps, smiling brightly. "We can hang out together. And if you don't have a job, you can work with Reki and me. You even move in wi-"

"Stop..."

"We can go to school togeth-"

"Stop it."

"You got us! So, you don't have to wor-"

"Shut up!"

Langa blinked, taken back by the sudden outburst from [Y/N]. He focused back on them, confused why they told him to quiet down. Their brows knitted down, hands clutched by their side. The sunset shoned behind them. The soft breeze brushed against their figure out. And if Langa squinted, he could had notice their faint blush reddened slightly. They looked cute. He wanted to see them blush again.

"Just... why are you doing this?" They asked, their eyes looking anywhere but Langa. They were shy. They found it unbelievable but it happened. They were shy.

Langa stared at them for a moment, making [Y/N] nervous.

"Because I like you."

Those words froze [Y/N] on the spot. Their eyes widen, lips parted slightly. The words ran through their mind like an echo. Langa's charmed smile implanted with it.

"And I want to be your friend."

Impossible.

"That's..." [Y/N]'s face was burning up. Cheeks redder they matched their eyes. "That's stupid." They blurted out quickly, taking a step back. Langa frowned a bit, not unexpecting that sort of answer to his confession. A confession they weren't sure if they were happy about or sadden by it.

"No one wants to be my friend. No one likes me... That's what they always told me." [Y/N] took another step back, brows knitted down but not in anger but in sorrow. Every step they took back, Langa takes one forward. "I'm unlovable... I don't... deserve it." The young former skater shook their head, as if snapping into reality. Tears welled up on their eyes. "You don't like me. You don't. You don't, you don't, you don't, you don't," They repeated quietly, hugging themselves as the tears rolled down their cheeks. Langa panicked. He didn't wanted to upset them. What they said made him wonder who told them such statements. They trembled and he didn't know what to do.

Except for one thing. And he hoped he don't get slap doing so.

Arms wrapped around their frame, a hand on their head as the other rest on their lower back. The hand stroke their head as the other ran their back in a circular form. Langa closed his eyes, hugging [Y/N] closed to him.

"Shh... shh... It's okay, [Y/N]..." He whispered. "Whoever told you those things, they... they don't know what they're talking about." Langa took a deep breath. "But I'm telling the truth. And you do deserve it." He pulled away a bit, cupping their face with his hands and made them looked at him. "I like you. I like you very much. And even though I want to be more, I do want to be your friend." Langa smiled genuinely, blue eyes staring into red ones. "So, please... let me be your friend."

[Y/N] stared at Langa, stunned in his embrace. The blush darkened as Langa continued. They couldn't believe it. Their heart pounded little by little with every word Langa spoke. The hands on their face felt nice. The comfort hug was something they never experienced. They only got hurt by the hands of those who dared say they loved them. But, for whatever reason, they trusted Langa's words.

"Please... don't hurt me..."

[scoups4lyfe]

aguilera then "you're gonna leave me so i'll be alone?" vs aguilera now "you're fired" :(( thanks writers, i hate it!

(´ι_｀ )....

(trigger warning: Talks of Suicidal Ideation)

put this under the cut cause bruhhhhhhhhh

I'm planning (<33 don't quote me on this <33) on dropping an essay on the Deadmans 3 this weekend.

Cause honestly as much as I love Tamaki and want him to be happy and I know this abandonment breaks his heart,,,I have also come to realize that --- Aguilera even tho she was as close to a positive connect/relationship as he was ever gonna get in that cult

In the end was keeping him held firmly in their cult-conditioning.

so,,,,what do I mean by this?

Here's a quote from some of my research:

"The leader may randomly alternate praise and love with scorn and punishment to keep the member off-balance and confused and instill immense self-doubt. The leader may offer occasional gifts and special privileges to encourage continued submission.

The member may be pressured to publicly confess sins, after which he is viciously ridiculed by the group for being evil and unworthy. He is loved again when he acknowledges that his devotion to the cult is the only thing that will bring him salvation." (Found from article: "How Cults Work" on the 'hotstuffworks' website)

although Aguilera was only the "faux-Leader" she *did* believe she was the leader, and so did Tamaki.

We can even see cult -brainwashing techniques on display in their relationship:

(ngl I didn't even realize it until after I started researching cults, oof)

But, Aguilera comforting Tamaki when his friend died, and giving him praise, comfort and love

--- versus her physically choking Tamaki for telling Sakura about their hideout/asking her to come.

And let's not forget that before this, she backed him into a corner and had him nervously confess to what he did.

"may be pressured to publicly confess sins ."

and, after this abuse, did Tamaki leave Aguilera? Did he go back home to his family -- wherever the f*ck they are? No. He went back to Sakura, but not for himself.

He went because he wanted to help Aguilera. Most if not all of his actions can be traced back to wanting to help Aguilera in some way.

"Cults demand absolute, unquestioning devotion, loyalty and submission. A cult member's sense of self is systematically destroyed. Ultimately, feelings of worthlessness and "evil" become associated with independence and critical thinking, and feelings of warmth and love become associated with unquestioning submission.

The leader typically controls every minute of a member's waking time. There is no free time to think or analyze. Questions and doubts are systematically "turned around" so that the doubter feels wrong, worthless, "evil" for questioning. The member is loved again when he renounces those doubts and submits to the will of the leader."

"Once complete dependence is established, the member must retain the leader's good favor or else his life falls apart."

The leader may punish doubt or insubordination with physical or emotional trauma. Once all ties to the outside world have been cut, the member feels like his only family is the group, and he has nowhere else to go."

lol......this fking sucks, huh.

Now, this isn't to say Aguilera is completely 100% at fault for this, because both Aguilera and Oltecca (believe it or not) are also victims of cult indoctrination and all the stuff we see Tamaki going through, is stuff that those two have ALSO (more than likely) gone through -- its why they're so radicalized.

In fact, if Oltecca hadn't betrayed him and Aguilera + if Tamaki hadn't seen his friend be killed by another cult member, then he would've still been deep deep DEEEEP into the cult brain-washing.

And in a way, he still kinda is. His subservience, obedience, and absolute submission to Aguilera are all behaviors tied to their cult brain-washing.

I mean, when Tamaki was Julio he was more than 100% ready to 'sacrifice' himself to revive Gifu-sama. Legit, Julio was going to willingly commit suicide in order to accomplish the revival of 'Gifu-sama'. (And, why? For Aguilera.)

Anyways,,, basically what I'm saying

.....is that Tamaki was isolated, mentally and emotionally broken by the Deadmans Cult, and reformed into 'Julio' ---someone willing to hurt / kill others for the sake of the cult, and someone knowingly and willingly prepared to kill themselves for the Leader/their 'Queen.'.

He was only ever going to gradually worsen and fall back into their cult indoctrination if he stayed with Aguilera. Even once she abandoned him, Tamaki doesn't try and go 'home.'

The audience kNOWs that he at one point HAD a family, because he moved with them after his highschool ex's 'betrayal.' But the brain-washing is still so deeply rooted inside of him, that unless his parents disowned him -- or died, it would mean he is willingly not going back to his family, because he does not see himself as connected to them anymore. HIs family was the Deadmans Cult, and then it was Aguilera.

And now he has no one.

/end of my spiel/

[crystalas]

Affliction

Affliction

A Lego Monkie Kid one shot [yes, I can do those] wherein while travelling with the Monkie Crew during their season 3 journey Red Son’s affliction flairs up and he has to deal with it…with a little help from Tang.

Warning mentions of mental, emotional abuse and anxiety attacks

 It had been two weeks since Red Son had joined the Monkey King’s group which made him question his sanity and theirs sometimes but, it was not as unbearable as he first thought it to be. True the Dragon Horse girl will not shut up about him being an ‘official good guy’ despite him telling her numerous times that helping them will help him get revenge on the spirit that brought about his family’s downfall.

Noodle boy was quiet which unnerved him no end but then again after nearly getting defeated by Lady Bone Demon he couldn’t blame him. As someone who had been on the receiving end of her mental tormenting tactics and making his own father try to kill him, he understood all too well you’d need some time to yourself to recover.

The pigman and the scholar had made themselves the cook and quarter master of this ship and the big blue man [which he found out was called Sandy] kept the ship on course and in shape, surprisingly he was welcomed Red Son’s input on the ship’s maintenance and ideas for improvement.

Monkey King he didn’t know how he was doing because for reasons he couldn’t explain he just couldn’t bring himself to go near him.

And then it happened, a flock of demon birds attacked the air ship and during their battle to get said feathered monsters off their flying base one of the engines blew; causing the ship to tilt horribly and nearly fling all those fighting on deck into the mountains below and the begin began to plummet. It had been a tense fight between the attacking demons, time and gravity as they fought all three simultaneously before Sandy could get the failing engine working again and once, they got themselves more stable easily fought off the creatures.

Now the battle done and everyone working on getting the ship back in order, Red Son stood there before looking at the damaged engine. He should have checked the engines that morning or upgraded them by now, he should have known about the demon flock that roamed here, or at least checked whose territory these mountains were in. There were so many things he should have done to prevent all this and its only a matter of time before the rest of crew realised that too…

Red Son’s felt an all too familiar tightness in his chest and retreated to below decks, of all the times for his affliction to flare up why now? He had too many things to do and he couldn’t show weakness in front of these people! The tightness got worse and he soon realised he wasn’t going to make it back to the sleeping quarters so he made do with the broom closet, he snuck in closed the door and sank to the floor as he struggled to breathe. His thoughts began to whirl around in his head like static on a radio making him feel dizzy and he brought his knees up to his chest in the hopes of stopping his heart from leaving his chest as it started to beat so fast.

He was used to this; he knew what to do when this happened all he had to do was ride it out and wait for it to be over. If he was lucky, it’ll be over in a few minutes or if he was unlucky an hour; he just didn’t want to be caught like this! It was bad enough he was to blame for what happened what if they find him sitting in the broom closet of all thing and worse what if they notice his condition? They’ll surely kick him out for fears of infecting the others!

As these thoughts continued to whirl around his head and he wheezed in what little oxygen he could he felt someone take his hands.

“Hey its okay…its okay, try and take a deep breath for me Red can you do that?” said a voice it sounded familiar the scholar perhaps? “Focus on my voice and try to breathe in…”

Red Son tried to hone in on the voice and managed to take a deep breath.

“And breathe out slowly…”

He somehow managed to do that.

“Good, you’re doing great! And again, breathe in…and out…in…and out…” the voice soothed and coaxed Red Son back into the room, now that he could think more clearly, he saw the scholar [Tang that was what the other called him] kneeling in front of him holding his hands.

“You feeling better?” he asked. Red Son jerked his hands away and scuttled as far as he could away from the man.

“You should wash your hands…in case you get it” he mumbled.

“Get what?”

“My affliction of course” Red Son admitted shamefully.

“Red Son is this some sort of demon thing? Because from where I’m standing you were having an anxiety attack and last time I checked those weren’t contagious.” Tang said sitting down and getting himself more comfortable on the floor.

“Anxiety attack?” Red Son asked “Is that what it is?”

“Unless you demons get something else but from what I read you guys don’t get sick much…” Tang said before looking thoughtful “Though I do need to do more research into that now that you’re here just to be safe.”

“It must a curse then!” Red Son declared “Mother would have cured me had it been something small as a sickness…perhaps mother was worried of it spreading…”

“Was she the one who told you that? That others could catch it?”

“No…I just assumed because mother would… umm…tell me…to…” Red Son mumbled.

It had to be contagious why else would mother tell him to go away whenever it happened? What other reason than to protect herself and others from getting it?

“Useless child! if you’re going to be like that then go to your room!”

“You’re being an embarrassment for the both of us! Just leave me alone till you can be reasonable!”

“Red Son I thought I told you to keep this to yourself? Can’t you see Father and I are busy?”

“Red Son how long have you had this ‘affliction’?” Tang asked gently, Red Son gripped his arms to try and keep himself focussed and in the room. Tang was a scholar and had already shown an impressive amount of knowledge for a human, given he had helped him with this attack maybe he can cure him!

“I think maybe…two hundred years ago? Give or take a decade?” he suggested and Tang stared at him his glasses slipping off his nose slightly as his mouth gaped slightly before he recollected himself and pushed his glasses back into place.

“Sorry…” he apologised “I keep forgetting you’re an ancient demon.”

“I’m still considered young by my kind.” He exclaimed and heard Tang muttered ‘ow my hip’ under his breath.

“Let’s get back on track!” Tang declared “these ‘attacks’ do they happen often?”

“Depends…for a while they happened maybe every two weeks or so maybe a month…but after father came back it started to happen more often…” Red Son explained, the thought of failing his father time and time again despite his best efforts. He had wanted so bad to make up for the blighted mistake that hurt his family so much all those centuries ago, he wanted to make his father proud!

“You? Why should I trust you? You have brought me nothing but failure! Time and time again nothing but disappointment!”

The memory of his father laughing at him and then to declare him a traitor, he knew it was that spirit’s fault but it was still his father’s voice taunting him, it was still his father’s face he would see in his memory looming over him and rushing forward to…

“Red Son?” Tang said loudly bringing Red Son out of his thoughts. “Let’s try something else, what was going through your mind when this attack started?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I’m just trying to figure this out with you, were you scared of the bird demons?”

“NO!” Red Son shouted his hair flaring up in anger “How dare you even suggest that I, Red Son were scared of such minor creatures!”

“So, what was it that upset you?”

“Upset me?”

“Red Son if this is anxiety then your attack must have been triggered by something, if it wasn’t the fight what was it?” Tang inquired, it unsettled Red Son on how quiet and calm he was being about this. “It couldn’t be the fight itself because you seemed fine during that, well as fine as any of us could have been while fighting bird demons on a sinking flaming ship! But this attack began afterwards, didn’t it? so what happened between the fight ending and this starting?”

He should keep his mouth shut a part of Red Son’s mind told him, he shouldn’t expose his flaws to this human. Besides nobody needed to know about this, he was just going to be a bother to everyone…

“Keep your snivelling to yourself! Can’t you see mummy has enough on her plate because of you?”

“Quit your whining and get back to work! Honestly I don’t need this right now!”

“I…I…was thinking of all the things I should have done to prevent that from happening” Red Son finally manged to say.

“Should have done?” Tang repeated “Red Son…do you think what happened was your fault?”

Red Son froze up at those words, he could already feel his chest tighten. They knew! Of course, they knew it was his fault it had to be who else could be to blame? He was more acquainted with the area he should have known about the demon flock; he should have checked the engine so it made sense that he was to blame. It was always his fault when something went wrong Mother said so…

“It’s your fault my husband was sealed away!”

“I was left alone for decades because of you!”

“We lost the staff because your foolish weakness you pathetic little whelp!”

His fault, it was all his fault, it was always his fault!

“Do the spell!” he whispered as his heart began to pound harder.

“What?”

“Whatever you did last time, do it again!” he whimpered clutching his chest “…Please…”

Tang took his hand and Red Son hoped to feel better when Tang did whatever had done last time but nothing changed he still felt like the room was crashing in on him. The thoughts of what Monkey King will do when he finds him, how on earth he was going to explain what went wrong, what punishment awaited him and how he was going to have to make it up to them spun and clashed in his head.

“Red Son listen to me; did you know the engine was going to fail?”

“What? N…no I didn’t but I…”

“Had someone told you to check on it? Was it your job today to do so?”

“No…I mean I usually do but it looked fine yesterday…”

“Then it wasn’t your fault”

“W…what?”

“Red Son none of what happened today was your fault, how could it be? You said so yourself you checked it yesterday and it was fine, you had no way of knowing those bird demons were nearby. None of this was your fault.” Tang stated clearly holding Red’s hand tightly now.

“But…I…I mean I should have…”

“Red listen to me, we’re not going to blame you for something none of us had any control over. We fixed the problem we won the battle that’s all that matters. It wasn’t your fault.” Tang exclaimed “But you still think it is, don’t you?”

Red Son looked at him and nodded. Why did he feel such relief at being told something that should be obvious to him? Tang should be at least scolding him for acting so foolishly but he just…sits there…listening to him. It felt nice to have someone hear him out for once.

“Can you cure me of this?” he asked.

“No Red Son, this isn’t something I can just make a potion for and fix right away, but I am willing to help you through this. You don’t need to ride these ‘afflictions’ out alone, next time you feel one coming on just let me know, okay?” Tang explained and stood up helping Red Son to his feet. “Are you feeling a bit better now?”

“Yes…” he said softly.

“Good we better get back up top before everyone thinks we fell overboard!” Tang beamed and opened the broom closet door; Red Son grabbed his hand before he could leave.

“Um…thank you…” Red Son said “but please don’t let anyone else know about this…”

“I won’t say a word until you’re ready!” Tang swore and they made their way back to the others, Red Son made a bee line for Sandy who was looking over the damage engine. Sandy just waved and smiled before going into detail about what he thought went wrong handing Red Son the tool box as they discussed how to fix and improve it. Tang smiled and went over to Pigsy who was in the kitchen putting away all the items that had gone flying when the ship had tilted.

“There you are!” Pigsy growled “I could’ve used a hand you know where have you been?”

“You know how we agreed when this was all over we were going to get MK to see a therapist?” Tang said as he started to pick the jars of herbs off the floor.

“Yeah?” Pigsy agreed wondering why this had come out of left field so suddenly.

“Think we could get Red Son to see one too?”

[kashi-prompts]

would you mind doing one where he helps with sh please? or depression hes one of my comfort characters it’s okay though if you don’t want to i understand!!

A/N: Please read the trigger warnings <3 

Rating: M

Pairing: Kakashi x Reader (kind of a thing already but not really, I would say?)

Genre: Angst and fluff? Bc that’s all I ever write. 

WARNING: This prompt contains somewhat graphic descriptions of self-harm. If this is triggering to you, please skip this prompt and take a look at my other prompts for your Kakashi/reader needs :) Be well! <3 

Prompt below the cut! 

* * * * * * * *

You stumbled into your grimy apartment, limbs feeling as though they were double your total body weight. Your feet ached, your head spun.

“I couldn’t -” you had managed before Lady Tsunade. You had taken a breath and tried again. “I couldn’t get to her in time.”

Your friend since birth. Your childhood playmate. Your best friend. Your team lead. How could you have let her down? How could you have managed to not protect her, as she had protected you on every mission. You leaned against the wood paneled wall, gritting your teeth. Your body reeked of sweat, shame and guilt. A dusting of dirt covered every inch of your body, your teammates blood on your chest.

Tears prickled in the corners of your eyes.

“She was right in front of me, but my body was paralyzed from their jutsu.” You had explained.

“How did she -?”  The fifth Hokage had asked, eyes staring down at her scroll, her body completely rigid behind her desk.

“Blades,” you breathed, holding your composure. “To the chest.”

“And your other teammate?”

“In critical condition.”

How could you have been so foolish as to let yourself fall victim to a such a basic shinobi maneuver. Your opponent had stood before you, seeing you lunge at him with kunai in hand and then he was gone, disappearing into a patch of smoke before you. All at once, you had felt the weight of you adversary behind you, pushing you forward with his chest and onto the ground. A prick of the skin on your neck and your limbs became numb. Your teammates battled in front of you, perfectly capable of handling their own - yet something had caused the fluency of their movements to stifle.

You swallowed now, sliding down the wall in your apartment and holding your head. Your mind felt numb like your body had on the battlefield earlier. You had kept your composure bringing your teammate back to the village, leaving your friends dead body behind. He had managed to use all his chakra to defeat the faction of enemy shinobi, only to collapse under your nose as you realized everyone around you but the two of you were dead.

Konoha had lost a great leader that day. Not only that, but your friend. You could have saved her - if you had only trained harder, had better reflexed - been smarter.

You tugged at your hair, your eyes burning from the dirt on your face mixed with the salt of your tears. The overwhelming realization fell over your body. Nausea creeped up your throat, burning as you let out a wail of mourning.

You uncurled your legs from your chest, a clang of metal hitting the floor under you. The room was dark with the exception of the soft glow of the street light just beyond the small window in your apartment. Your reached your hand down, feeling your fingertips touch the cool metal of your kunai that usually hung casually from the leg of your uniform. You picked it up, your face twisting with anguish again at the thought of loosing your friend.

Something prickled under your skin - an old friend, an old enemy.

The realization that some type of relief could be managed hit you, only to be quickly followed by the overwhelming frustration of back peddling into a habit you had long left behind. Could you? Would you? Your grip tightened on the kunai, your face in your other hand as you squeezed your eyes shut, deliberating in your mind.

The ticking of the wall clock in your kitchen mocked you as you sat on the floor, a weeping, afflicted mess.

“I can’t,” you shook your head, drumming your head against the wood paneling.

But she felt the same pain as she died, your mind said to you. Blades against her skin, puncturing it and killing her. You should be dead, you know. She was a better shinobi.

Heat shot up your spine, your teeth milling down on one another. You pulled back your sleeve, not hesitating to turn the blade to its side and pushed it to your skin. Even in the darkness, you could see the pearls of blood forming under the edge.

For a moment, your consciousness only focused on the pain. The feeling of the kunai on your skin - the relief and the discomfort. Slowly, you added another line, and another. Moments passed.

You deserve this. You could have saved her. You could have helped him.

“[y/n]?”

The blade fell from your hand immediately, sliding onto the ground with a metallic thud. Your hands shook, eyes wide as you realized you had never closed the door behind you.

“[y/n] -” A silver haired shinobi pushed the door open further, seeing your curled up body leaning against the wall, blood coursing down you skin. You looked up at him, the streetlight glow from behind you twinkling in his alarmed eyes.

Kakashi.

“Oh, gods-” you shook your head and leaned it against the wall, your mind delirious with thoughts again. Nausea pushing up your throat. “I’m sorry, Kakashi. I’m sorry - I couldn’t sav-”

“It’s okay!” Kakashi fell to his knees next to you, trying to calm you. “I know, I know. It’s okay.”

He reached up, pushing your matted hair out of your tearstained face.

“I heard from Lady Tsunade. I know. I’m sorry - it’s not your fault.”

The light from the hall behind him fractured the darkness of your entryway. You were so nauseated with grief that you felt delirious. You felt the warmth of his palm on your head move away suddenly.

“[y/n],” he spoke mildly to you, “what is this?”

You felt his hand on your wrist, bringing it up into the light. Looking down, he saw the kunai right below it, your blood still dripping from it. You opened your eyes, the skin around them puffy and tired. Your fatigued gaze met his.

“Did you do this to yourself?” a finger brushed over the blood, soaking his fabric glove.

You nodded. Defeated.

You both stared at each other, some type of understanding communicated between one another. Moments passed, your mouth dry with no other words to say. Numbness enveloping you once again. You felt your mind zoning out, turning away from him.

You felt his fingertips on your temple again, his palm smudging the dirt off your face and smoothing back your hair - bringing you back to reality if only for a moment.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he whispered to you. “I know what you’re going through.”

You closed your eyes again, nodding silently.

A few moments later, you heard him move next to you, followed by the sudden sting of antiseptic against your wounds. Grimacing, you opened your eyes to see him cleaning your arm. Your eyes traveled down to the first aid bottle next to his thigh, bandages right next to it. His hip pack opened on the floor in front of you. His fingers worked gently and meticulously, with knowledge of how to tend to a wound. You closed your eyes again, feeling him dressing your arm in white wrappings tightly.

When he had finally finished, you felt your chest bubbling up again. You had never had someone care for your wounds as he just had - not these types of wounds. You swallowed hard, not wanting him to see. But he had and you felt him gently grasp the back of your neck and pulled you into his chest. Your limbs tangled with one another on the floor, a mismatch of different lengths folded over each other. For the first time in hours, you felt your body go slack.

Finally, you let out quiet sob, holding onto his flack jacket tightly. His lean arms fastened themselves over your shoulders. You could feel his breath against your ear, pulling you close.

“It’s okay,” he whispered again. “Everything is going to be okay.”

[dreamywriterinthedark]

Losing you pt III: Picking up the pieces

Pairing: Spencer x Reader

Category: angst, slight fluff.

Resume: Reader struggles to get over a traumatic experience and isolates themselves. They have an outburst, Spencer finds them in the middle of it and offers a helping hand.

Trigger warnings: death, blood, trauma, anger issues, alcohol (please let me know of something was forgotten)

A/N: I don’t know how I feel about this series. Let me know if you like it or what you would like to see. This is what would’ve happened if Linda Barnes was leader of the team. I’m guessing this is a bit of homage to Elle who deserved better. I would love to hear your feedback and whether you want a fourth part. Thanks <3

You slipped off your blind fold, your calmness was interrupted by the broad figure in front of your eyes. The hooded man slowly made his way towards you.

“Please, don’t kill me!” you screamed at the top of your lungs. He looked at you with such viciousness as if he was planning all the horrendous things he was going to do to you in his head. You rose up panting from another hostile episode slapping the light switch of the lamp on your nightstand.

You were on your bed completely exhausted yet wide awake. You could not allow yourself to sleep because every time you did you woke up in sweats due hallucinations and nightmares. You could not differentiate what was real and what was an illusion anymore. You walked to your kitchen pouring yourself a glass of water, your hands were so shaky you dropped the glass and flenched at the sound. By trying to pick up the pieces you cut your hand, the sight of blood on your hands brought you back to that night when you almost died and your boss hardly bat an eye.

Your vision was getting blurred whether it was your brain making you depersonalise or your tears clouding your view you couldn’t tell. You were uncontrollably sobbing. That’s when it hit you, you needed help. You hated yourself for it, it flet like you were a burden. However, you felt guilt creep in furthermore when you saw your phone light up with all the texts, all the calls you ignored making the team even more worried. You swiped the notification from your 13 missed calls making your phone call Spencer. You felt a rush go through your vein, a rush to abort whatever mission you were on, the rush to flight. The kind of rush that could’ve saved your life.

After two rings you hung up feeling stupid, now wondering if you woke him up for nothing. You slammed your phone on your kitchen counter. The anger levels spiking, overtaking the small amount of rational thoughts in your head. You sighed running your hands through your hair. Completely numb, more and more glass shattered on the floor. Once the energy was in too limited quantity in your body. You grabbed a bottle of wine chugging from it in your bathtub like a child trying to avoid family gatherings. You cried until you were too dehydrated to keep the tears flowing, until your eyes were swollen.

The ring of your doorbell caught your attention. Or was it another cruel hallucination ? You were going to ignore it until you heard it be rung once more. You checked who it was through the lense.

“Shit,” you swore, it was Spencer.

“Open the door, Y/n. I know you’re here.” you rolled your eyes at Spencer’s request your back pressed against the cold steel.

“I’m a mess.” you responded trying to dissuade him to come in.

“Your mess is my mess. I’m your home, remember ?”

You smiled detaching yourself from the door unlocking it. He pressed the handle letting his weight make the door shift open. You were brushing with a broom the glass pieces to the side to allow him to circulate safely in your apartment. He saw the blood on your floor, the bandage on your hand; he solved the puzzle himself. You turned to him, no words were needed, he saw the look in your eyes. He cupped the back of your head with one of his hands and wrapped his arm around your torso carefully, gently as if you were as fragile as fine china. You wrapped your arms around his waist breathing in his scent. He pulled away, both hands at the side of your head.

“I want to be that person you can tell anything to. The good and the bad.”

You looked up at him. “Barnes is considering suspending me because I did not follow his orders. Spencer, I had no choice…” he could hear your heart break in your voice.

“She’s not allowed to do this.” He informed you.

“She’s not ?” He nodded in response.

“She violated protocole in the first place by using governmental fund for a case too personal to him. He got his proof only by putting you in a position of danger when she needed it to act. Like you said you had no other choice. I’ve done it before, I was never reprimanded me.”

“Yeah cause you’re a man. If a man kills a rapist, he’s a hero but if a woman does it, she’s a cold-blooded crazy murderer. Gosh, I miss Emily.”

“Talk about double standards.” Spencer said, “You know, she misses you too, we all do.”

“I doubt it, honestly. I was so determined to get her validation it almost cost me my life. Maybe I should just let her know how I feel.”

“Yeah, you definitely should.”

“But what am I even gonna say to her ? What if she’s right ? What if I’m actually delusional or dangerous ?”

“Hey, hey, Y/n. Slow down.”

“Please talk some sense to me. It’s like I’m going out of my mind!”

“It wasn’t your fault. It was legitimate defence. I saw it, the whole team saw it and has your back.” he reassured you, his face closer to yours.

“Should I write her a-“

“No, you’re not doing anything tonight.” He interrupted you. “Just go take a shower then we can talk about it. Sounds good ?” you nodded to respond to him which he, as usual didn’t mind even after going on an endless monologue.

While you were in the shower, he cleaned up the mess your anger made. Once you were done, you sat down on your matcha green sofa watching the sunrise. “It’s already 4am ?! I’m so sorry for keeping you awake.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m a night owl anyways so it’s nothing out of the ordinary. Did you know that falling asleep late is linked with a high IQ ?” he said making his way to you with two cups of tea.

“Then I must be a genius.” you answered half jokingly. “Oh thank you.” you took hold of the warm but not steamy cup in your hands. You remembered Spencer once telling you that the reason why so many dislike tea is because they think it tastes like dirt, it’s not supposed taste like that, see, if the water is burning hot it’s going to burn the leaves and speed the infusion process making it too concentrated. You turned to look at him, he was already looking.

“Sometimes I wonder how you can put up with me.”

“Because I love you.” He never failed to remind you how much he loves you even especially on your worst days. You explained what had been going on, he debunked and dismantled every question pending in you head, every lie your brain told you. It felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. For the first time in a while, you felt safe in your own home. Instead of your alarm clock, the sound of the birds were ringing in you ears. You both agreed to go talk to Barnes to solve whatever the problem was that morning. “I’m not going down without a fight, especially not when it comes to that bitch!” Spencer boldly commented to your surprise. You weren’t healed just yet but at least you got out and socialised. At least you opened up to someone you could trust.

You stepped out of the elevator one hand holding coffee, the other holding your boyfriend’s hand. Everyone walked up to you giving you a hug and greeting you. Penelope was so enthusiastic it was overwhelming.

“Long time no see,” commented Luke. “You too,” you hugged him back.

“What happened to your hand ?” asked JJ.

“I dropped a glass.” you nervously responded, you were telling the truth…at least part of it.

“Welcome back!” said Tara squeezing an embrace as well.

“Oh I don’t know about that just yet.” you said to her.

“We need to talk to Barnes first.” added Spencer.

“Whatever happens, we’re with you, Y/n” said Garcia. The others agreed, it felt good to be supported, so much you regret isolating yourself for so long.

Silence made its way into a conversation that was once filled by joy. You threw your coffee in the trash can before turning your body towards his office. Spencer, resting his hand on your back, asked “Are you ready, darling ?” You took in a deep breath sharply, nodding your head yes without taking your gaze off the door.

[pollenat]

ITZY and A moment of sadness

➛ Trigger warning: angst. The concept resolves around the reader going through a depressive phase and the members’ reactions to it.

Dark and provoking. Somehow, the world feels worse than immortal killers from cult classics. It’s much more relentless in its pursuit after your peace and it’s not even trying.

You wonder, have you always felt this way, or was there a time when the world didn’t seem as bleak as it does at this moment. Everything looks fruitless. What’s the reason for passing days? What about the changing seasons? How does one go on with a reason? The world does nothing and yet chooses that form of an attack on you. It’s effective.

A knock resonates. Jumping in place, because you were drowning in pain, until the sound, like a rope, pulled you towards the surface, the real world of now, you welcome it with a little bit of hesitation. Who? What? Why? Like a sleepwalker, you walk towards hallway, slow, terrified, blue. The anxiety raises, and you wonder whether it’s not too late to turn back. Pretend you’re not home. After all, there is no emergency to take care of, is there?

The knocking resonates once again, a stark contrast to the silence and calmness of your small apartment. It feels dead although you’re the most living creature that could ever inhabit the four walls. Not even a fly to join you. Just you and the terrorizing knocking on the front door.

A breath in, a breath out. You’re not sure about opening the door even when your hand catches the locking mechanism. The crunch of turning metal travels through a crack in your chest, like water does through split glass. There’s a silhouette outside, one that you instantly recognize as...

YEJI

Though you’re sure she will start scolding you any second now, a sigh breaks through the plush of her lips.

“(y/n)-” accompanies a soft smile of comfort.

Yeji isn’t mad, though you think she should be. Any other person would be furious at you for avoiding them. But not Yeji. She understands and offers her presence. Always. So in the end - you’re at fault here. For making her worried, hurting her by avoiding contact and being so thoughtless towards someone who’s still by your side. No matter how many may have left you, Yeji would never do such thing. The thought makes your eyes burn. All you had to do was tell her.

She doesn’t wait for you to speak, or cry your eyes out. Yeji’s arms open and lock you in a tight embrace. As she clings onto you, you’re pushed deeper inside the hallway. The sound of closing front door is just a sound. Yeji smells of familiarity and promise that things will be fine. Eventually. Perhaps, with her around it may seem so. Once she’s gone, the spell will break and you’ll return to the spiral of self-pity. It’s a wonder she hasn’t grown tired of you already.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” says Yeji. Her tightening embrace seems to be an answer to your similar motion.

Your fingers dig into the common material of her coat. It’s cold from the temperature outside. Her helix, leaning against the side of your head suffers the same fate. You were the reason she had to endure it - the cold. Guilt instantly fuels your imagination. You think of her frozen fingers, shaking teeth, teary eyes and itching skin - all of which you’re the reason for.

“Are you overthinking?” She waits a moment until, lying, you shake your head no. “Don’t ever think that I could be mad at you for being sad.”

Her statement is not just any reassurance. It’s her proving how much she cares about you. So much that she knows you’re on a self-guilt spree. Like always when feeling down.

“How-” You still want to ask, but the pain in your throat seems life-threatening.

Her hold weakens, so she can lean back and look at you properly. The avoidance of her gaze doesn’t discourage Yeji. As little as you want to show, her still smiling lips are pushing themselves into your view. Like magnets, they summon your eyes to appreciate the show. It doesn’t last long enough. She pouts, head nodding at somewhere behind you.

“Shh. I’ll make you something to drink, alright? I bought chocolate and other things. Chose the weirdest snacks I could find in the store-”

Yeji’s hands slip down your arms to lock on your fingers. You’re pulled along to kitchen, the usually irritating light of a lamp you hate, no longer as terrible. Frankly, it’s hard to pay attention to anything other than the young woman in front of you. Yeji is a bright star of good vibrations. Just a look at her and you’re feeling lighter, as if the sadness could be weighed and abandoned. You don’t need the chocolate-sized portion of dopamine. It won’t last, though you don’t plan on completely omitting it.

“Good thing I remembered to buy milk, right?” Yeji’s eyes almost close, unable to fight with her raising cheeks. “What would you do without my grocery shopping sense?”

She’s talkative, putting the day’s history into words. You’re listening, eager to catch onto every syllable, focus on something that’s worth your attention. Chocolates are small and last a single bite. But Yeji? She’s a lifetime of dopamine.

LIA

Before you can recognize the visitor, her hand lands on the door to push it farther. Jisoo has a solemn look on her face. She quickly passes you and closes the entrance, as if she was scared of something awaiting outside. The palms of her hands are flat against the door’s surface. Curtains of dark hair cover her profile, to keep you away from whatever her face may be painting.

You’re trapped in long minutes of uncomfortable silence, filled with thoughts of scary possibilities. Did you do something wrong? Maybe something happened to her? The reminder of many missed calls passes your mind, like an accusatory finger pointing at the main suspect. You want to ask her what’s going on, but words are too difficult to come by.

After what feels like forever, Jisoo turns to look at you. The solemnity falls, so a picture of worry can take its place. She looks as if guilt was chewing her ear off. As if she was the one with a string of bad choices following her.

“Sorry.” Her voice is small. “I was worried you’d- you’d close the door in my face.” A huff of disbelief follows. She seems amused by her own way of thinking.

Unsure how to tackle her behavior, you just nod in understanding. Lips feeling dry, you dare a look around the room you see on a daily basis. Just like you imagine yourself - it’s a picture of pure misery. Slightly embarrassed by the mess, you scramble to collect abandoned belongings. Otherwise Jisoo will surely scold you.

A jacket you had no strength to hide. Shoes you didn’t care for. A jumper you randomly abandoned. In the past they didn’t matter. Now, they’re an irritating distraction.

“What are you doing?” Jisoo catches the jumper’s sleeve.

“Cleaning.”

She clicks her tongue and pulls the material out of your hands. It’s neatly folded and placed on the nearest surface, so you’re no longer bothered by it. But the need to hide it in a closet raises in the place of irritation. You’re staring at the jumper, indifferent to Jisoo’s hard gaze.

“Seriously,” She steps in front of you, taking all of your sight for her. “don’t you think there are more important things than stress-cleaning?” Jisoo’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

Embarrassed, you attempt a sigh, but instead of frustration, it’s a sound of a broken heart. Distorted and miserable. Out of what exact reason? Who knows, because surely not you. One moment you were existing, the next one you were feeling guilty for breathing.

Jisoo’s right hand wipes your cheek, probably to get rid of a stray eyelash you haven’t noticed. It’s a kind reminder of the good things, you’d kill to get a hold of. To forget for a moment and focus on something else, other than your mental state. Like the jumper. You want to put it away. Out of sight, out of mind as they say.

“You ignored my texts, calls... Just a single word back would do.” Though you’re the one with dark clouds hanging over your head, Jisoo sounds like she’s in actual pain, all caused by your stubborn silence.

“I’m sorry. I just don- didn’t feel like talking to anyone.”

“And that’s fine. But always let me know you’re around, okay? No talking. Just a yes, or- I don’t know.”

Perhaps it’s the pressure of your terrified gaze. Perhaps the useless silence pushes her into action. Or, perhaps, it’s Jisoo’s own overpowering feelings that make her embrace your middle. She doesn’t look like someone who wants to let go and her tightening grip only proves the assumption. For the first time this eveing, her smile shines with honesty.

RYUJIN

She looks annoyed. The opening of your front door has her head falling back, a deep breath escaping, eyes closing. You watch her chin, somehow relieved it’s her, somehow more scared it’s her.

“I thought-”

Her raspy voice is terror-inducing. Under other circumstances, you’d love catching onto the rougher parts when she reaches the lows. But now? Now you’d rather tune it out so she doesn’t speak more, so she doesn’t get a chance to say something that may cut through your fragile shell.

“I was seriously worried.”

Without any other courses of action left to take, you open the door wider. It’s only polite to allow the guests in and you have no answer to her statement. But Ryujin doesn’t seem ready to step in, or even look at you. She’s facing the hallway’s wall, sorting out emotions that are a total mystery to you. There’s more to her state than serious worry.

“Why didn’t you answer the phone?” Her question isn’t a surprise. It’s a fact you want to push out of your awareness. Phones are scary. Answering questions is scary. Seeing irritated Ryujin is scary.

“Sorry-” You tell her, lost on words.

Her face finally turns towards you which you answer by looking down at your feet. You haven’t noticed how irritated the cold made your skin. White lines of drought cross your blueing skin tone. Toes drum against a dirty doormat.

“Just a text would be enough.” She says in a much softer tone. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Though eager to, you don’t allow yourself a look at Ryujin. Who knows how much more heart break you can accept, even if the previous reasons weren’t directly caused by you. Is your head you, or is it a different being? These days, it rarely seems to be an ally, more an enemy.

Steps are taken towards you. Ryujin’s heavy boots stand next to your naked feet. You want to step back and let her inside, but hands catch your cheeks before you can move away. Chin is lifted up. You’re staring at Ryujin and she’s staring back. Into your soul, someone could think. But the thing is, you’re aware she must know now. Her sudden softness is enough of a proof. You’re fragile and Ryujin knows how to deal with characters in your state.

“Did something happen?” She comes closer, so now her warmth is shielding you from a draft.

Hesitation holds you silent for few long seconds that Ryujin bravely faces.

“No.”

“So nothing happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“So you’re sad?”

A bite on your lower lip answers her. Ryujin nods, dropping her eyes. She doesn’t speak for a longer time, until cold wind’s blowing makes you shudder. At that, a guilty smile crosses her fingers and without turning away, Ryujin kicks the door closed.

“We’ll have to do something about that then.”

CHAERYEONG

A picture of pure worry. Chaeryeong looks like a puppy that has done something wrong and now feels guilty. But she did nothing to feel guilty of. You’re sure of that. As always, the fault is all yours. Why would she even choose to care for you? Obviously - aside from the kindness of her heart. And now, in a spot right next to the uselessness, you’re struck with guilt.

She wants to say something, but decides to search your face before speaking. Lips close, then press into a thin line. Her eyes drop down before looking at you again. You’re not sure how to answer her unclearly asked question. There’s no clear explanation to your state.

All wordless, you take a step to the side, allowing her inside. Chaeryeong hesitates only for a moment. She’s such a natural view, you’re weirded out by her being frozen in place, unresponsive to your motion. An invisible switch has to be turned on for the pieces to match. Her steps inside are small, anxious. Remind you of her first time at your flat, back when things were alien. But they’re not anymore. Chaeryeong knows everything about the four walls you inhabit, from the most comfortable spot on your couch, to where you hide socks. She’s seen it all. Your gloomy days are where the blank territory rests. Best couch spot won’t help with that and Chaeryeong knows it.

After closing the front door, you turn around to catch her facing you. Dark eyes hang under wrinkles of a strained forehead. For a moment you forget yourself. Fingers, as if having their own mindset, reach forward to flatten her skin. It’s soft and warm, unlike the rooms you’re closed in.

“Don’t do that, or it will stay that way.” Chaeryeong’s frown deepens for a second, but she smiles. You do as well, though the corners of your lips ache.

Her hand doesn’t swat yours away, like it tends to do with a little bit of a joking undertone. Instead, it weakly grabs your wrist to invite you into a hold. Her bright smile doesn’t falter like yours. Chaeryeong’s face remains an anchor, the last reminder of good feelings you’ve once possessed.

“Can we watch a movie?” Her question takes you by surprise. It’s careful, but also so outside of the range of possible topics, you’re not sure whether to be glad or doubtful.

“I mean- Sure?” The smile widens, though it seemed impossible a moment before.

You’re pulled straight on the couch, with no possibility of standing up in sight. Chaeryeong’s hands circle around your arm, her body coming as close as possible, making you wonder whether she has applied glue in-between your sides.

“Next time,” The TV clicks. “just text me.”

Though you’re basically glued to one another, she doesn’t dare even a stray look in your direction. Chaeryeong’s eyes are focused on the screen. You know she’s not watching the random episode of Family Court.

“Text you what?”

“You know what!”

Your question seems to offend her somehow. One of Chaeryeong’s hands slaps your abdomen, but frown is quick to disappear as she lays a cheek on your arm. Only now you notice the warmth she emits, like a human-shaped heater. Comforting, inviting, overtaking. You cannot resist the magnetic pull. Skin rests on her velvet-like hair. Maybe next time you will find the courage to text her, so the smell of her strawberry shampoo fills your senses and pushes everything wrong out.

YUNA

“Ah, you really couldn’t be bothered to have phone on you? Seriously, who does this now? We’re living in the XXIst century!” Yuna babbles on, eyes staring at you, but not really. She’s so taken by the monologue, your state passes her judgement unnoticed. Knowing her, the speech was in the works her entire way to your apartment. “And to think you usually never let it go out of your hand! But today, you just had to ignore me? What am I to you?”

“Hm?” Her eyes widen, a sign you read as I didn’t meant that last sentence. It was the heat of the moment and, frankly, you don’t care about words today.

Yuna doesn’t continue her rant. Your passiveness is much more interesting to her than the personal feeling of anger. A little dumbfounded, she finally takes her eyes off of you to stare at your front door. She may be lost in thought, but you realize it’s not good to keep the guest waiting outside. Weakly, the door is pushed wide open. Your feet take you back to the couch you occupied earlier.

It takes her a moment to gather thoughts before you hear her stepping inside and closing the door. Then she struggles with the fabrics. You haven’t noticed her current choice of shoes, but you imagine her pulling boots off of her feet. Yuna sighs in discomfort. The noise isn’t meant to be loud. It’s the silent apartment that takes it on a run through every nook and cranny.

A stray pillow occupies your fingers. Yuna walks inside the living room. Her hesitancy is obvious. She may be quiet, but the atmosphere is screaming. Another material is pulled, probably a scarf. Feet pad against naked floor. She stands next to you, staring at where you’re tormenting the poor pillow, before she dares to sit down. Yuna is not good with these things. You know they make her uncomfortable. That’s why you avoided involving her in the first place.

“Are you-” She jumps a little at the volume of her own voice. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I’ll be okay.” Then, so she doesn’t have to wonder, you add “Didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Well-” The paint comes off of the pillowcase’s zipper. “You should worry me with things. You know, when you’re feeling bad and all that- All that stuff.”

There’s an attempt at humor - a huff you don’t understand. Probably meant to portray her powerlessness. You’re aware there’s nothing Yuna hates more than the thought there’s nothing she can do. It’s an energy-consuming parasite that feeds on your anxiety and her inability. So the silence continues, stretched into long minutes. Every time she opens her mouth, nothing comes out of it. Every time you move a little, she jumps in her seat. As if your movement could hurt her.

“Really, you can go home. I’ll deal with- this.”

She doesn’t answer. Not initially After a moment of hesitation and analyzing your features, Yuna dares to scoot over, so your thighs are touching. The lack of sudden movement on your side gives her all the encouragement she needs. Arms are quick to embrace you. Their hold is tight, but maybe not tight enough. The thought isn’t voiced.

“But I don’t want to go home. I want to stay with you. Keep you company. I know I’m not that good with these things, but- I want to be better at it. So just tell me how can I help, or if you don’t want to talk, then I’m fine with not talking too!” Her passionate words land on the back of your neck in a series of rapid breaths. “Just- don’t push me away, alright?”

➛ pollenat’s list of headcanons

➛ pollenat’s list of shorts

➛ pollenat’s list of scenarios

[xpeachesncream]

off the grid | eight

summary: it was as simple as swapping places with a stranger from across the world to get away from everything back home. that is - until you meet Jimin. things become more complicated as he unfolds a new chapter in your life that you were initially trying to avoid.

pairing: reader x pjm

genre: post-college au, christmas/holiday au | angst, fluff, smut (to come)

words: 2.1k

chapter warnings: cussing, more insecurities and overthinking, crying, mom and dad to the rescue, your friends back home miss you, reminiscing

> series masterlist <

You woke up at the usual 8AM time, looking out at the city view from the bed, checking your phone to see if anything new has popped up. Christmas had finally arrived in Seoul, the sun beaming bright and early. You and Jimin hadn't talked since that night you got into an argument and to be honest, it had been taking a toll on you the past few days. You cried, and you cried. Still unsure of what to do and how to approach this, but you knew sooner or later, you were just going to have to pick yourself up and move on. Thinking about it still left this uneasy, empty feeling deep down.

You were going back home.

The month flew by in a breeze, but overall, you were grateful for your experience here. You were grateful for the new friends you met and the adventures they had taken you. You were grateful having crossed paths with Jimin, being the absolute angel he was. The amount of love and care he had showered you during your time together was more than anything you have ever experienced before. It was unreal. Golden. Pure. Unlike any other.

"Hi baby!" Your mom yells through Facetime, causing you to chuckle as you held the sheets tighter against your body.

"Hey ma, where's papa?" She flashed the camera over at your dad, who was sipping on wine next to her. They sat in their hotel balcony, overlooking the view, waiting for Christmas to hit London since it was only 11pm there.

"Hey sweetheart, how's Seoul?" Your dad asks from his seat, but your mom is hogging the camera, so you can't even see his face.

"It's good."

"Yeah? It's already Christmas there, right? Merry Christmas, sweetie!"

"Merry early Christmas to you and dad." You smile softly.

"We'll definitely do our own thing when we get back."

"Okay, I'm looking forward to it. How has London been?"

"Absolutely amazing. We wish you were here, but Seoul sounds awesome too!"

"Yeah, it is. I've been having a lot of fun since I've been here."

"I see that, I loved all the pictures you've been sending me. Are you hanging out with your new friends today?"

"Um, probably not." Your smile fades as your eyes drop down from the camera to your fingers.

"Oh." Your mom picks up on the mood change quickly. "What's wrong, sweetie? What's on your mind?" You sigh. Those words are triggering; so triggering that as soon as you register that your mom has asked you what was wrong, you break down in tears again. "Oh no, honey. What is it?"

"Mom, I think I messed up. Or, maybe it's my fault for getting so attached. I-I knew what my plan was coming here and I just messed it up for myself."

"What are you talking about?" You hear your dad faintly ask your mom to include his face in the camera too, being that he's worried about you and your well-being as well.

"I shouldn't have gotten so attached to Jimin." Your mom and dad were well aware of who Jimin was, being that you gushed about him and how well he had taken care of you during majority of your stay here. They were happy you had met new people and that you bonded well with them because they knew what you were going through back home. However, they weren't ready for this conversation to happen.

"Oh, honey." She slightly clicks her mouth, the expression on her face filled with worry and concern.

"How stupid am I? I knew I wasn't going to be here for long, but I still pressed on it. I continued on and acted on my feelings for him. And now he probably doesn't want anything to do with me cause I told him this was never going to work. What if he thinks I misled him?"

"Look, you aren't stupid. You hear me? You are not stupid. You can't help what you feel for someone, no matter what you do. It's worse to push that aside and try to suppress it instead of tackling it head on. You'll be miserable doing so."

"But mom, this distance. Don't you think it'll be too difficult?"

"Nothing is ever too difficult, honey." Your dad chimes in. "Every relationship will always have its ups and downs. It will always be a ride no matter what. You just have to figure out if this is worth it for you, because if it is, then none of that matters. You will get through it together."

"Did I mess it up? Was I wrong for telling him that this will never work?" Your mom sighed.

"Your dad and I can't really tell you what to do or what to say in these situations, sweetie. You're the only one who truly understands what you're feeling, no one else. Do you feel like you misled him?"

"I fell in love with him, mom." You cried into the phone, your voice becoming weak.

"Oh, baby." Your mom replies. "I wish I could give you a big hug right now. I think you need to take time and think about this before you come home."

"Just remember that there isn't anything you can't overcome, honey. If he makes you happy, then you should welcome it. Let yourself experience that happiness." Your dad chimes in.

"Whatever you do, we will always be here for you. Same with Namjoon and Yoongi. But, please just choose yourself for once. Be selfish. Do whatever that means to you. It's completely okay to do so." Your mom says, making you nod. Be selfish. The words stuck to you like glue. Do whatever that means to you.

You continue to talk to your parents for a bit as they spill the details about their whereabouts since they haven't sent you as many pictures as you have with them. You were glad they were taking time off and really enjoying themselves, they truly deserved it with all the hard, endless work they have been putting in back home. After the call, you finally head downstairs to get washed up and get yourself ready for today, or whatever the day had in store for you. There wasn't anything open, but you felt like a walk around the neighborhood could do you some good. You just needed some cool, fresh air.

This wasn't how you expected to spend your Christmas, but you were partially to blame. The thoughts flooded your head, the what if's. All of a sudden you were full of regret, feeling like you made the wrong move by pushing Jimin away just like you did. You were (and still are) scared. You were so fucking scarred from your experience with Romeo that you couldn't even bring yourself to appreciate a good man when he came along, and that's what you hated the most about this long-time fight you've had with your past.

If you were to fix this, you weren't sure how. You didn't know if Jimin was done. You remember seeing the hurt plastered on his facial expression and it kills you every time. As much as you were afraid to take this leap, you fell in love with someone who had the purest soul. You couldn't forget how easy he made it seem to care for you. How easy it was for him to show you how he felt. For once, someone showed you that you were perfect how you were, flaws and all.

What did you truly want?

"It's Christmas there, right? Merry Christmas, Y/N!" Yoongi yells loudly over the Facetime call.

"Merry early Christmas to you guys, too."

"You excited to come home?" Namjoon flashes his face into the frame.

"I guess so."

"How do you feel?"

"Better than when I got here, that's for sure."

"That's all that matters, right?" Yoongi asks, still concerned about you and your whole situation with Jimin. To be honest, your friends really wanted you to be happy, but they too weren't going to tell you how to live your life. They just wanted to make sure you were set with your decisions instead of drowning in regret.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"What are you going to do today?"

"I'm just going to start packing up my things and cleaning around Yana's spot. Just gotta make sure it's ready for her."

"Where are you right now?" Namjoon squints his eyes as he's looking at your background while you walk.

"Just talking a walk around the neighborhood."

"It looks beautiful there."

"It is. Truly."

"Well, make sure you rest and relax today. You're going to be on a long flight back home."

"Ah, the dreaded 13-14 hour flight."

"We'll be back to bugging you in no time." Yoongi flashes his gummy smile with a thumbs up.

"How's Yana been?"

"She's been good, she's pretty excited to go back home to see her family and friends though." Namjoon and Yana had also taken their relationship to new heights, something you wish you were bold enough to do with Jimin. Joon tried to spare details so he wouldn't make you feel bad about everything going on, but as long as he was happy, you were happy too.

"That's good. I'm glad she really enjoyed her time there."

"She sure did." Namjoon wiggled his eyebrows

"You're sick, bro. The fuck." Yoongi furrowed his forehead and slightly shoved him. As you started to make your way back to the loft, you slowed your pace when you realized there was something sitting on the doorstep. You rose your eyebrow, unable to make out what the item was from where you were standing.

"Hey, look, I'll talk to you both later, okay?"

"Is everything okay?" Joon asks. You send him a reassuring, toothless smile and nod.

"Yeah, I'm just about to get into the loft."

"Alrighty, Merry Christmas again, dude. Can't wait for you to get back." Yoongi replies, with Joon yelling another 'Merry Christmas' greeting before they end the call. Getting closer, you see a tupperware full of food, with a sweater and a small box on top of the sweater. Your heart drops because as silly as it sounds, you knew that tupperware. There was a small note taped to the lid of the tupperware that read 'Mom told me to feed you well.' You smiled a bit to yourself before unlocking the door. You brought the items inside, placing them carefully onto the kitchen island before observing the sweater and box closely. You also knew that hoodie all too well - it was the same black, Stussy hoodie you always pulled from his closet to wear whenever you were hanging out at their apartment. You always liked how his smell lingered on the hoodie, and how he looked so damn good throwing it on. Opening the small box, you find a tiny, black album, full of polaroids. You instantly find yourself in tears, your hands slightly shaking as you flipped through the polaroids Jimin had taken of you during your stay here. Most were candid photos of you, but there were other polaroids that included him, Jungkook, Taehyung, Hoseok, Jin and their other college friends. Your eyes landed on the last polaroid in the album, remembering that moment clear as day. It was at the tower and Jungkook had taken over Jimin's polaroid camera, snatching a photo of you and Jimin with the view of Seoul behind you two. Jimin held you closely, his arm wrapped around your waist, while he planted a huge kiss on your cheek. You smiled from ear to ear as you wrapped your arms around his neck, closing your eyes at how his lips felt against your skin. A note from behind the last polaroid fell out, causing you to crouch to the floor in order to grab it.

Y/N, Merry Christmas. If it's one thing you can do for me before you go back, please hold onto these and remember me. Remember the friends you made and remember our time together.

I'll always hold you close, no matter the distance.

- PJM

You felt your entire body sink against the kitchen island, no longer being able to bear the weight on your own two feet as you cried. And you cried, and you cried. Jimin was everything you had been praying for, the one man who you knew could treat you right and give you the world. There was no hesitation. All you wanted to do was run into his arms and apologize, stay here longer, be selfish. But, you had no idea what was stopping you. Maybe it was the fact that you had everything back home, and you weren't sure if this was too big of a step for you to take.

But God, you would never forgive yourself if you allowed him to get away.

So let's revisit that question one last time: what did you truly want?

[turnleftaticela]

I wish people didn’t make such a big deal out of self-harm. Like, I’m thinking how absolutely revolutionary it would be if I told someone I’d self-harmed and their reaction was little more of an “aw that sucks :(” than it’d be to if I told them I’d accidentally cut my arm.

I wish it wasn’t seen as “relapsing.” I wish it wasn’t something to be “held accountable” for. I wish it wasn’t seen as some big moral failing, and I wish it wasn’t seen as some huge urgent deal if someone says they’re having self-harm urges, like y’know how suddenly everybody scrambles to “save” them from “succumbing” to the urge? Like dude it’s really not that deep. Stopping somebody from self-harming is not at all equivalent to stopping somebody from killing themselves. If somebody self-harms, what’s gonna physically happen? They’re gonna cut themselves or whatever, and then they’re gonna go about the rest of their day. They’re not gonna fucking die if they cut themselves. It’s really, really not the end of the world. Life goes on.

In fact, reacting so strongly is only gonna make them feel worse, because I guarantee the self-harmer doesn’t fully understand why they do it (if they did they wouldn’t be doing it), and so they’re gonna start feeling guilty for it, as if hurting themselves hurts other people. And they’re never gonna learn the truth if they have to keep reporting to external entities about it. There’s a reason it’s called self-harm.

Self-harm is not one step closer to suicide. Sure, it can signify there are issues in a person’s life that might cause them to lose all hope if left untreated. But the two don’t really coincide. In fact, they’re kind of opposites. The point of suicide is to stop feeling pain. The point of self-harm is to feel pain, to express it the only way one knows how. Self-harm is not malicious; it’s not really even self-hating. It’s more… self-denying. Self-suppressing. Self-harm is the sign of a stifled self fighting to live.

This isn’t to say someone who self-harms won’t have suicidal ideations. Quite the opposite, usually. But again, this isn’t such a huge fucking deal. It just means they don’t know what they have to live for. It means they don’t know they have themselves to live for.

There will be different degrees to this, of course. It depends how often triggers occur in a person’s life. How often they experience something that brings them back to the mindset of owing their self to anyone or anything but themselves. Of believing the pain they feel is solely their own fault and not knowing how to take the proper responsibility.

Self-harm is a self-soothing behavior. I literally looked up self-soothing just to see what the definition was and the first page I clicked had self-harm on its list of self-soothing behaviors. The antidote to self-harm is not abstinence but rather acceptance. Accepting it for what it is — a way to relieve tension. A way to comfort yourself during experiences in which your pain has historically never been acknowledged.

Self-harm, at its core, is little more than an extremely fucking misguided attempt at self-care. At self-love. Humans are wired for self-love; we just have to be taught how to do it, or we’ll default to the first and easiest thing we can find. It’s an impulse. The way to overcome self-harm is not to keep track of how many days you can avoid doing it then berate yourself when you break your streak. It’s not about “staying strong.” There is no strength in avoiding self-care — not the healthy kind, anyway. But there IS healthy strength in changing how you care for yourself.

Self-harm is both a tool and a habit. It’s like using a rake to shovel snow, except you do have a shovel in the shed but you’re just so used to picking up the rake that you forget (or don’t even know) the shovel is there. Yes, it will be more effective if you pick up the shovel. But does that mean you should promise to anyone that you’ll never slip and forget and pick up the rake by mistake ever again? No, of course not. That’s not how the human brain works. Force of habit is a powerful thing. And if you do pick up the rake, who are you hurting? No one but yourself, and not even that much. It’s at worst a frustrating and kinda painful inconvenience. But the rake’s not gonna fuckin explode and kill your whole family. It’s just gonna suck for a little while. And then you can try again the next time you go into the shed.

Btw the shovel here could be any number of things. Positive self-talk. Verbalizing your thoughts and feelings, whether it be to yourself or to somebody you trust. Non-injurious stimming. Etc etc etc.

Idk it’s just so fucking annoying when people freak the fuck out and go full crisis mode whenever somebody even mentions self-harm. So few people understand what self-harm is, even the people who do it, and when people conflate it with an oncoming suicide attempt it just makes everything so much fucking worse. Nobody is going to die. Just be normal. God.

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone -Chapter 26

Title: Preparations

Warning:  it’s filler.  I figured we needed some cute daddy Tyler. lol

Tagging:  @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @alievans007​, @miss-smutty​, @tragiclyhip​

“When you met mumma, you guys were working together, right?”

Addie poses the question as she sits atop the kitchen island; legs swinging back and forth as they dangle over the edge, the heels of silver and gold glitter infused jelly sandals lightly thumping against the wood. She insisted on bringing one of her favourite pairs of shoes from home; arguing that she didn’t care that they were ‘out of season’ and that she would wear what she wants, when she wants, and no one could tell her otherwise. In the end they’d gone perfectly with the new ‘Christmas’ dress she’d picked out Bloomingdales; a vibrant yellow concoction with capped sleeves embellished with strips of lace, a sash around the waist that ties in an enormous bow at the back, and an elaborate tulle skirt several layers thick that shimmers in the light. Forgoing all the burgundy, emerald green, and red dresses that had lined the regular priced racks in favour of an outfit from the leftover and highly discounted summer section. It was a hill Esme hadn't been willing to die on; preferring that Addie showcase both her independence in choosing her own outfit, and being proud of her personal style and preferences. And it suits her; as bright and adorable as her personality with just enough ‘no fucks given’ sprinkled on for good measure.

While tiny and seemingly fragile, she can be extremely assertive and adverse to any form of compromise; tenacious to a fault and digging her heels in and sticking to her guns when she feels she’s one hundred right about her stance. Even if there’s mountains of proof to show that she is, in fact, completely wrong. Someone so stubborn and feisty lingering inside that cute, wee package; able to hold her own while out playing with her older siblings and not afraid to get a bloody nose or a fat lip or a black eye. And not deterred in the slightest when she DOES get injured; right back to what she was doing only hours after getting stitches or a cast removed. Not shying away from climbing trees or splashing in mud puddles or helping muck out the goats stalls while wearing clunky rubber boots paired with a Disney princess dress. Very much like her older sister had been at that age; enjoying being physical and active and playing sports and rough housing one minute, then showcasing her more ‘girly side’ the next. Loving trips to the salon with mummy for manis and pedis; enjoying picking her own shade of polish and then getting to sip orange juice from a champagne glass while getting a facial and her hair trimmed. Collecting dolls along with various rocks and shells and beach glass. Superhero figures taking up residence on her bedroom shelves right alongside stuffies of her favourite animals -koalas, sloths, and kangaroos currently at the top of the list- and snow globes from different parts of the world. Her closet filled with not only frilly dresses and sparkly leggings and colourful sweaters emblazoned with unicorns and french bulldogs and flamingos, but old hand me downs from her brothers; ripped and faded jeans and tattered t-shirts and board shorts.

“Right,” Tyler confirms, as he tends to running a brush through her waist length hair; damp from misting it down with a spray bottle in order to easier part it into sections.

It’s a far cry from his old life; his beaten and busted up hands with their multitude of scars and calluses once used to being soaked in blood and caked with dirt. Large and weathered with misshapen knuckles, they’d long ago gotten accustomed to hard, manual labour and the brutality that he’d had to inflict on others; fists that pummelled bodies and faces and fingers that pulled triggers and wrapped around throats and choked the life out of combatants. And while they still get caked in mud from working around the house and they’re still entrusted to load magazines and are capable of taking a gun apart in thirteen seconds flat, they’ve morphed into other uses. Beginning with diapering babies and tending to the impossibly tiny snaps on jumpers, buttons on little sweaters, and zippers on sleepers. Moving on to tying kid sized shoe laces and cleaning and patching up skinned knees and elbows. Advancing to far more difficult hair styling techniques than the simple ponytails he’d began affixing on Millie when she was a toddler; various styles of braids adorned with ribbons, and snapping barrettes and clamping clips into place.

Being a girl dad is unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. The six short years -despite the little time he’d actually been home- he’d spent with Austin had prepared him for raising boys. His son, when healthy, had been extremely active and fearless and full of curiosity and energy; getting as messy and as dirty as possible and loving every second of it. Obsessed with superheroes and sports and always clad in clothing that displayed his favourites; football jerseys and baseball caps and sweats emblazoned with Superman or Batman logos. He had been terrified twelve years ago when the news had come in that Millie was in fact going to be a girl; not only envisioning frilly dresses and a closet full of pink and those ridiculous headbands parents insist on putting on their infants, but thinking back to his own treatment of women. The days when he’d used them for nothing more than sex; random strangers picked up in bars or that he’d meet on the street in whatever city a job sent him to. A failed marriage; putting more of a priority on the military than he did on treating his wife properly. And all he could think about was how having a daughter was somehow a punishment for the bad shit he’d done. A little girl that he’d have to protect from guys like him.

It was hard to get used to; big fingers having to master putting in tiny earrings and tending to impossibly small zippers and buttons , getting comfortable with the amount of pink and purple in their rooms and closets. Eventually graduating into attending tea parties and playing with Barbies and helping make crafts; getting used to paint on his palms and between his fingers and glitter stuck under his nails and in his hair and beard. Determined to be a hands-on father even if its activities are way outside of his comfort zone; gymnastic meets and dance recitals as opposed to lacrosse matches and football games. Being a girl dad isn’t for the weak; having to worry about your little girls’ hearts being broken and if the guys they pick will treat them right and if they themselves will make smart and responsible choices as teenagers. And the hormones; the up and down emotions and the drastic switch from bitchy to overly sensitive. Having a wife go through it once a month is enough. never mind the thought of three other girls. The worry of how he’ll handle not only the emergence of puberty, but if all four female ‘clocks’ decide to sync up. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to handle THAT; all the women in his life going through the cramps and the moodiness and the demands to be coddled and babied one minute and left the fuck alone the next.

“Does that mean mummy beat up and killed bad guys too?”

“No. She never did any of that stuff. That was my job, not hers.”

“What did she do?”

“She tracked down the bad guys. And where they were doing mean things to good people. Then she told me...or guys like me...where they were so we could go and take care of things.”

“So you could go and kill them?”

“You don’t always have to kill people. Sometimes it’s enough to just rough them up a bit.”

“And other times they fight back and try to hurt you and you have to hurt them first?”

“Pretty much.”

“Have you killed a lot of people?”

“Not that many," he lies. It's actually a staggering amount; the death toll -from his hand alone- in Dhaka putting the count well over three hundred.

“How many is ‘not that many'?’”

“I don’t know, Peanut. I’ve never kept track.”

“But you’ve helped more people than you’ve hurt. That’s what mummy said when I asked if it was true. If Tyler was lying when he told me you kill people for a living.”

“That’s a while ago. That you asked mummy that.”

“I was three. That’s a whole two years ago. But sometimes I think about it. Especially when you go away. I think about you having to kill people.”

“And what do you think WHEN you think about that? About what I sometimes have to do?”

“I dunno know,” Addie shrugs, and then lifts the spray bottle clutched in both hands and holds it towards her face; giggling when she pulls the trigger and catches some of the mist in her mouth.

“Does it bother you? When you think about it? That I’ve killed people? That sometimes I still have to?”

“Why would it bother me?”

“Kind of a hard thing to hear, don’t you think? That daddy has to do stuff like that?”

“It’s your job. It’s what you do. You have to hurt people to save other people. And sometimes, if they try and hurt you first, you have to kill them. Because if you didn’t, they might kill you and then you never come home and we never get to see you again. It’s not THAT hard to hear. I’d rather you kill someone and come home than never see you again.”

“You know,” he plucks the spray bottle from her hands and dampens a section of hair. “You’re pretty smart for only five.”

“Smart like mummy.”

He leans in to press a kiss to her cheek. “Cute like her too.”

“Are you going to get in trouble? For killing people?”

“Who would I get in trouble with?”

“God. Isn’t that one of the things we’re not supposed to do? Kill people?”

“How do you know about that? We don’t talk about that stuff at home.”

“I hear things. At school. Some of the older kids talking. Are you? Going to get in trouble? For killing people?”

“Probably,” he admits. “I’m sure I’ll face some kind of judgement for it. When my time comes.”

“But wouldn’t it be okay ‘cause you only kill bad people? That were hurting good people? Wouldn’t that be allowed? And if you had to kill someone so you could come home to us, wouldn’t that be okay too?”

“I don’t know,” he snags a yellow cloth ribbon off the island and begins braiding a section of hair around it. “I’ve never thought that far ahead about things.”

“It would suck if you got in trouble for helping people. That wouldn’t be fair at all. If you got sent to hell for doing stuff like that. I mean, you were doing something GOOD. You weren’t doing something bad. You HAD to kill evil people to help good people. And to make sure you come home to mummy and us kids. I can’t see you getting in trouble for something like THAT.”

“Doesn’t make much sense to me either. But not a lot does anymore.”

“I’ll be really mad if you get in trouble and sent somewhere different than me. I don’t want us to be in two separate places. I want us to be together. All of us. You and mummy and all us kids. I don’t want us to all be separated. Well, maybe Millie could be. Because she’s mean to me. All the time.”

“Millie is going through some stuff. She’s going to be a teenager soon. A lot of drama leading up to THAT.”

“She says I’m annoying. That she used to really like me when I was a baby and couldn’t do anything. But now I can do lots of stuff and I can talk and she says that pisses her off. That I’m a bratty little sister.”

“You are NOT bratty.”

“Right? That’s what I said. She’s bratty if anything. Am I annoying, daddy? Don’t lie. You can tell me the truth.”

“You are not annoying. If anyone is annoying, it’s Millie.”

“I said THAT too! But she’s mean. She even threatened to cut my hair off. Shave it. Because I couldn’t find my brush and I borrowed hers and she didn’t like that. So you know what I did? While you were gone?”

“What did you do?”

“I took the tops off two Oreo cookies and I ate the middle and then I put in mayonnaise and I put the tops back on and gave them to Millie. I told her I was being a good little sister and bringing her a snack. And she put a whole one in her mouth! She almost puked!”

He can’t help but chuckle. “You actually did that?”

“Yup. It was awesome. I laughed so hard, I almost peed! But then she started chasing me around the house threatening to kill me. Mummy was screaming at her to lighten up, that it was just a joke. And then she told mummy to shut up and Tyler got mad. REALLY mad. He tackled Millie and grabbed her by the hair and pushed her face into the carpet. Then he put her in a figure four leg lock and made her cry.”

“Millie told your mom to shut up?”

“Oooops…” Addie tilts her head back to look at him, a sheepish smile curving her lips. “....I wasn’t supposed to tell you that part.”

“Who told you not to tell me? Millie?”

The five year old shakes her head.

“TJ?”

Another shake, followed by a tiny “No.”

“Addie…”

“It was mummy! She said not to tell you because you’d get pissed off and you didn’t need to. Because she took care of it right when it happened. Well, Tyler did. He was really, really, REALLY mad. She learned her lesson. I’m sure of it. He made her cry. Lots.”

“Did that happen a lot? Millie getting mouthy with your mom?”

“Not really.”

He stares pointedly down at her.

“A few times,” she reluctantly admits. “She said some things that were really mean. To mummy. And she said the F word once, too. Mixed with the B word.”

“She said that ? To your mom?”

Addie chews nervously on her bottom lip. “Yeah, she called her an f-ing B word.”

“What did mummy do?”

“She didn’t get a chance to do anything. Desi freaked out. And he’s really big and he can be really scary when he wants. Like you. Desi told her that she should never, ever talk to her mum like that. And that you’d be really mad if you found out. And that she’d rather deal with him than you. Which is true. Desi might be bigger than you, but you’re definitely tougher. I mean, he doesn’t kill people for a living. You do.”

“Things were pretty bad, huh? While I was gone.”

“A little. Millie went off the reservation. Big time. She’s lucky she’s even breathing. ‘Cause Tyler was ready to kill her. And I don’t blame him. You’re mad, aren’t you. Are you mad, daddy?”

“A bit.”

“You know how I can tell? That you’re mad? Your neck moves. Right here,” she reaches up to press to fingertips against the side of his throat. “Where the bad guy shot you a long time ago.”

“How did you know about that?”

“Mummy told me. I asked her how you got that scar. She said that a long time ago, her and Ovi were in trouble and you had to get them out of a really bad place. And then you made sure they were safe and sound, but a bad guy shot you. In the neck. And that’s why you have the scar there.”

“Did that scare you? Hearing that?”

“A little, I guess. I mean, you could have died, right?”

“I could have, yeah.”

“And then you and mummy never would have gotten married. And had kids. Millie would be the only one to exist. None of us would. So yeah, that part scared me a bit; that the bad guy could have killed and none of us ever would have been born. Did you kill him?”

“Eventually.”

“Mummy said she stayed with you. After it happened. And that she went back to Australia with you and that’s how she ended up there. It’s where you guys got married. And had Millie and me and Kota and Brookie. That we were the ones born there. So we’re REAL Australians, like you. Everyone else is American.”

“Everyone else WAS American. You’re all Australian now.”

“How does that work?”

“A lot of papers you have to fill out. To become a citizen. But you all are. Mummy and I made sure of it.”

“Is mummy an Australian too?”

“By marriage, yeah.”

“It’s a good thing she married you. You’re a lucky guy, daddy. That someone like mummy fell in love with you.”

“I am,” he confirms. “Very lucky. She’s a pretty good mummy, huh?”

“She’s the best mummy EVER. If we could pick our mummies, I’d pick her. Because she’s nice and she gives good cuddles and kisses and she tells the best silly jokes. And she’s super smart and really cute too. And little! Like me!”

“That’s where you get from. Being so cute and wee. You’re just like your mumma.”

Her eyes sparkle as she smiles broadly up at him; the corners and the bridge of her nose crinkle. “And that’s a good thing, yeah?”

“A very good thing,” Dropping a kiss on her forehead, he brushes the tip of his nose against hers; smiling at the way she throws her head back and giggles.

He’s seen her mother do that exact movement and expression a number of times; excitement while on the rides at Disney World with the kids, when she’s had one too many glasses of wine and even his terrible ‘dad jokes’ are suddenly hilarious, when they’ve been on one of their ‘mommy and daddy’ vacations and she’s gotten up the guts to try something new and exciting; emboldened by his encouragement and forever feeling safe and secure as long as he’s by her side. So much of Esme in the tiny little girl in front of him; tenacious and ferociously intelligent and loving deeply and fearlessly. Knowing the darkness and the horrors that exist in the world but not allowing herself to be tarnished by it; always finding ways to smile and laugh and find the beauty in every day.

“What do you think mummy would have done if she didn’t do the job she did?” Addie inquires, when she finally drops her head back down and he’s able to return to tending her hair.

“I don’t know. Teach? Be a nurse? Maybe a doctor?”

“How would you have met her? If she didn’t do her old job?”

“Maybe I would have met her on the beach. In Australia. Maybe she would have come there on a vacation.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you would have gone to where she used to live. In Chicago.”

“She used to live in Colorado. That’s where she was born and where she grew up. Chicago is a totally different place.”

“She used to live by the mountains. When I was in her tummy, you guys lived on a hobby farm. And you had goats and chickens. Mummy says we still own that house.”

“Yup, we do. We rent it out.”

“Can we go there one day? I’d like to see it. I’d like to see where you guys were living when I was in mummy’s belly. Is that where I was made?”

“We’re pretty sure that’s where it happened. Not many other places it could have been.”

“Maybe we can go and visit. And I can see where I was made. That would be fun. I want to see the mountains.”

“Maybe one day.” He finishes up the first braided pigtail, securing it with an impossibly small elastic before turning his attention to the other section of hair.

“If you met mummy a different way, would you have still liked her? Would you have still fallen in love with her?”

“Yup. Why wouldn’t have I? She still would have been mummy. She still would have been the same person. Still would have been the most beautiful girl ever.”

“Do you think she still would have fallen in love with you?”

“I sure as hell hope so. Would sure suck if she didn’t. Your mumma is pretty special, Peanut. She’s the love of my life. Took me until I was thirty five to meet her.”

“You were married before, though. To Austin's mom. You didn’t love her?”

“I did. But not in the way I love your mum. Your mum? That’s who I want to spend the rest of my life with. Grow really, really, REALLY old with. It’s a whole other kind of love. And you know what? It’s not easy to explain. You just know what you feel.”

“Imagine if things were opposite? If you went to Colorado and met mummy instead of her meeting you in Australia and working with you? And then you would have stayed there; where the snow and the mountains are instead of the beach and the ocean. How come you moved? Why didn’t you guys stay? Where the mountains are?”

“Things changed. We weren’t happy there anymore. We needed to get away. Go back to the place where we were the happiest.”

“In Australia?”

“Yup.”

“That’s where I’m happiest too. I love it there. I love how warm it is; the sun and the sand and the water. I like the sound it makes; listening to it when I’m trying to fall asleep. And I like how the beach feels; between my toes and when I let it run through my fingers. And I love my room and my toys and my school and my friends and all the goats and our pigs and our chickens. And Charlie. I love him the most. I love making him peanut butter sandwiches. I’d miss him the most. If we had to leave. We won’t have to leave will we, daddy?”

“I don’t see why we would have to.”

“I don’t ever want to leave Australia. It’s perfect there. It’s where I was born. And where you were born too. We have that in common. We were BOTH born there.”

“Yeah…” he grins, and presses a kiss to the back of her head. “...we were.”

“I mean, we have other stuff in common too. Because you’re my dad and that means you helped make me so that means half of me is half of you. The other half is from mummy. And we both love surfing. And animals. And Vegemite. I LOVE Vegemite. It’s sooooo good.”

“Speaking of Vegemite, was it you that left the Vegemite and Nutella sandwich for Santa?”

Addie giggles. “Maybe…”

“Why would you ever put the two of those together?”

“Tyler made it for his school lunch once and he let me try a bit and it was really good! So I thought Santa might like to try it. Part American, part Australian.”

“You know, that’s pretty genius. And it worked. I tried a bit and it wasn’t bad.”

“Right?! You wouldn’t think it would work, but it does. Somehow. Kind of like you and mummy.”

“What’s THAT supposed to mean?”

“You and mummy are so different. You’re really tall and big and she’s really short and small. Like, you know how mummy is a morning person? She’s always really cheerful and smiley? And you’re not? You’re moody and miserable. A total grump face! And you don’t like to talk until you’ve had your first coffee. With three shots of espresso in it.”

“You notice all that stuff?”

“I notice everything. Mummy says I’m very observant. And that I have really good instincts. Like you. She says ‘cause my tummy tells me if something is right or wrong. And yours does too. You know how else you and mummy are different?”

“How?”

“Mummy talks to everyone! She’s very talky talky. A chatterbox.”

“Geez,” Tyler grins, and tugs playfully at the completed pigtail. “I wonder who ELSE is a chatterbox?”

“She’s a social butterfly. She makes friends everywhere she goes. People like her. Because she’s so bubbly and cute and she makes peoples hearts feel warm because she’s so nice to them. You’re more serious. You don’t talk a lot. At least not to people you don’t know. People are scared of you sometimes. Because how big you are and because you got all the drawings on you and the scars and stuff. They think you’re mean. ‘Cause of all that.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think you’re just daddy. I KNOW you’re not mean. I KNOW you’re a nice guy. I KNOW you give awesome hugs; your arms are big but they feel nice and they wrap all the way around me! If people really paid attention, they’d see that you’re nice. You have soft eyes. They’re blue and they’re pretty and they’re kind. Especially when you smile and they go all crinkly. If people really gave you a chance, they’d see you’re not scary at all. You’re only like that if you HAVE to be. If bad people are near mummy or us kids.”

“Are you ever scared of me?” It’s a recurring thought; if his children ever pick up on the worry and the tension and the fear that comes with his issues. It’s a feat some days; forcing himself out of bed and putting one foot in front of the other. Wanting nothing more than to stay under the covers and surrender to the exhaustion that comes with doing battle with his own mind every day. But his family is his number one priority, whether it’s a good day or a horrible one. And he’ll ‘fake it until he makes it’ as long as his children and his wife know that they’re loved; provided and cared for and made to feel safe and protected.

“Why would I be? Why would I be scared of my daddy?”

“Well, you know what I do for a living. You know what I’ve had to do to people. Does that scare you?”

“Nope. Because that’s just your job. It’s not who you are. When you come home, you’re just daddy. You take us bike riding and hiking and swimming and surfing. And you help us find rocks and shells and you let me sit on your shoulders when we walk on the beach or go into town. And we take naps. On the hammock. I love our naps on the hammock.”

He smiles. “So do I.”

“Sometimes I get a little worried. When you get upset. Or you and mummy argue. I don’t like when you guys argue. I always worry that you’ll hate each other. That you’ll get a divorce. And then you won’t live with us. It makes me sad when I think about that.”

“You don’t need to be sad, Peanut. That’s never going to happen. I’m never going to go and live somewhere else. I’m going to stay right where I am; with you guys and your mumma. And just because we argue? That doesn’t mean we’re going to hate each other. I could NEVER hate your mum. And I’m pretty sure she’d say the same thing about me. We love each other. Very much. Divorce is NOT something you need to think about. But do I ever scare you? Have I ever?”

“I don’t have a reason to be scared of you. Because you love me. You’d never hurt me. I never worry about that. Not even when you yell and your voice gets REALLY loud. I know you’d never do anything mean to me. Just to bad people. And I’m not a person. I’m a GOOD person.”

“You definitely are. You’re a VERY good person. An amazing little person.”

She smiles. “Like mummy.”

“Just like her. More than even I ever realized.”

******

“Addie…” TJ singsongs as he saunters into the kitchen, both hands tucked behind his back. “...what are you doing?”

“Tyler!” She cheerfully greets, and excitedly waves to him with both hands. Her entire face lighting up at the sight of her second favourite male in the house

She’s become extremely close to her oldest brother during her five years on earth; idolizing him and turning to him for help and comfort when daddy is either caught up with one of the other kids, tending to work related matters, or out of the house -and sometimes even the country- all together. And TJ dotes on her in return. Spoiling her and babying her ever since she was an infant and he was always more than willing to help change her diapers and give her feedings. In awe of how tiny she was and how she’d look up at him with so much adoration. He’s the quintessential older brother; patient and loving and ready to kick anyone’s ass that dares messes with her.

“Look at my dress! It’s the one I picked out when I went shopping for mommy. That I kept a secret. Isn’t it awesome?”

“Awesome just like you. It’s really pretty, Ads. Your favourite colour too!”

“Yup! Mummy bought it for me. She said it’s perfect for me. For my personality. It reminds me of Belle’s dress. From Beauty and the Beast.”

“Looks a little like it, I guess. But you know what? It’s even prettier. And you’re more beautiful than Belle. WAY more beautiful.”

“Really?” she gasps, and a noticeable blush creeps into her cheeks, spreading all the way to the tips of her ears. “You really think so?”

“I REALLY think so. Belle has nothing on you. You’re the prettiest princess EVER. Way prettier than ANY of them.”

“Oh goodness!” She clamps both hands over her mouth in embarrassment, then giggles into them. “Like mumma? Just as pretty as her? Mumma is the prettiest EVER.”

“Just a smaller version of her.” TJ leans in close and presses the tip of his nose against hers. “Guess what I have? What you forgot in my room?”

“Adeline!” she cries, when he reveals the item he’d been keeping behind his back. And she snags the doll from him and showers its head and face with kisses as she clutches it tightly to her chest. “Adeline! I’m sorry I forgot you! I didn’t mean to!”

“I kept her safe for you,” TJ says. “So Declan wouldn’t grab her. You know how he likes to get a hold of dolls and torture them. I didn’t want him getting her. She’s way too pretty and I know how much you love her.”

“He’s mean to my dolls! He’s always taking their heads off and putting their arms where their legs should be and crazy shit like that.”

“Hey,” Tyler frowns, and tugs on the half braided pigtail. “What did I say?”

“No bad language. Especially on Christmas Day. I can’t help it though; sometimes it just slips out. If you didn’t swear so much around us kids…”

“That’s it. Throw me under the bus.”

“You swear A LOT, daddy. Especially in the car. When other people don’t drive fast enough or use their blinkers. If mummy knew exactly how much you DO swear around us, she’d be mad. REALLY mad.”

“Your mum has a worse mouth than I do.”

“As if!” Addie scoffs, and he can’t help but smile; easily hearing Esme’s voice and picturing the expression on her face; the corner up her mouth and her nose scrunched up in disgust, eyes slightly narrowed. “Thank you, Tyler!” She curls an arm around her brother’s neck, squeezing as tight as she can. “You’re the best! Thank you for keeping her safe from the Ginger. You’re the best brother EVER! I only trust you with her. And daddy. That’s it. You guys are big and strong and will keep her safe no matter what.”

“What the hell are you wearing?” He addresses his son as the latter moves to the fridge, pausing in the braiding of Addie’s hair to survey TJ’s wardrobe a pair of ill fitting and impossibly baggy jeans, an enormous untucked dress shirt with its sleeves rolled to his elbows, and a loose pink, purple, and grey striped tie.

“Your pants. And one of your shirts.” TJ reaches into the fridge and grabs a carton of chocolate milk and a jug of white. Closing the door with his hip and carrying them to the counter by the sink; pouring a mix of both into a plastic tumblr retrieved from the dish rack and then snagging two straws from the cupboard. “Mum told me to. She said none of my clothes were good enough for Christmas dinner. All my jeans have holes in them and all t-shirts have to do with surfing. We’ve never had to dress up for Christmas dinner before. Why do we have to start now?”

“Your mum’s trying to make things perfect. To avoid drama. With your grandmother.”

“Too late. Grandma brings drama with her. And drops it on everyone else.” He drags a bar stool across the floor and places it in front of his little sister. “Here Ads,” he holds the cup in front of her. “A yellow straw just for you. So you don’t have to share my germs. Let me hold it; so you don’t spill anything on your dress.”

Giving a delighted squeal and a smile of appreciation, she takes a pull from the straw. “I think you look handsome, Tyler. You’re growing up. You’re going to be as big as daddy soon.”

“It’s going to be a while before I’m THAT big. But I’m going to work on it. As soon as I’m allowed, I’m going to lift heavy too and put on ALL kinds of muscle.”

“Then you can go after bad people too. And beat them up and kill them when you have to.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Tyler suggests. “Something tells me mummy might have an issue with that.”

“Why doesn’t mum just tell grandma to get lost?” TJ inquires. “It’s not like they like each other. They never have. They’ve always fought. I remember how they’d get into it at Christmas. When we were still living in Colorado. Grandma would get drunk and she’d pick fights with mum and mum would fight back and cry and then you’d go off on grandma. Is that going to happen this year? ‘Cause it’s been nice and quiet at Christmas. Do we HAVE to listen to grandma's shit?”

“What did I just tell your sister? About the language?”

“She’s five, but she’s right. It IS hard to stop and it does just come out. But do we, dad? Do we really have to put up with her?”

“It’s one night. I think you can manage. If I can grin and bear it, so can you. Suck it up.”

“If she starts in on mum about ANYTHING, I’m going to lose it. That’s my mum. No one talks to my mum like that. I almost taught Jacobi a lesson. For calling mum cute and wanting to ask her out. I’ll teach grandma a lesson too. I’m not afraid of her.”

“If anyone is going to teach her a lesson, it’s going to be me. You stay out of it. Your mum wouldn’t want you getting into it with her. You’re TEN.”

“Doesn’t matter how old I am. That’s MY mum. And no one is going to treat her bad. We’re supposed to protect her, remember? You and I.”

“You’re supposed to be a kid and stay that way as long as you can. I’M supposed to protect your mom. And I think I’ve been pretty damn good at it for the last twelve and a half years. And if your grandma starts? I’ll stop it. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Why does she hate you so much anyway? Is it still the same crap? How she’s pissed because you stole mum away from her family and moved her all the way to Australia? ‘Cause you got her pregnant before you married her?”

Addie scowls. “Who cares? Lots of people have babies and they aren’t married. And so what if mummy didn’t go back home and she stayed with daddy? She’s an adult. She can do what she wants. And she wanted to be with daddy. None of grandma’s business. I’mma tell her that too. If she starts saying mean things about daddy or mummy. I’mma tell her what for.”

“You’re not going to do a thing,” Tyler informs her. “You’re going to leave all the telling off to me, got it?”

“I don’t like her,” Addie says. “She’s not a nice person. She has a mean smile. And her eyes are empty. They don’t sparkle or anything like that. Are you sure that’s mummy’s mummy? Because when mummy smiles, her eyes sparkle. She LOOKS happy. Grandma? She just looks mean.”

“No one likes her,” TJ grumbles. “Best thing we ever did was get away from her. But IS that why, dad? Is that really why she doesn’t like you? Because she still thinks you stole mum and took her all the way to Australia?”

“It’s a few things.”

“I bet it’s the job too. I bet she really has a problem with THAT.”

“Again…” Addie huffs dramatically. “...who cares? So what if daddy kills people? They’re BAD. They deserve it. He helps good people and sometimes when he’s helping them, he has to kill the bad guys. I don’t see a problem with that. If they try and hurt him or kill him, he HAS to kill them first. So he can come home. To us. And mummy. It only makes sense.”

“If Ads can get it, ANYONE can,” TJ says. “She’s only five. What’s grandma? A hundred? If a five year old can get it…”

“Daddy makes the world a better place because he gets rid of the bad people,” Addie continues, as she takes another sip of the drink her brother offers her. “If we had less bad people, everything would be great. There’d be less wars and less people getting hurt and everyone would love one another and be happy. Daddy’s doing a good thing. By sticking up for people. Like you do. At school. You beat up the bullies when you have to. Remember the older kid that tripped me and shoved my face in the mud? Remember him? He’s in grade eight AND you kicked the crap out of me. Because he picked on me.”

“You’re my sister. It’s my job to protect you.”

“And remember that other guy? On the playground by mummy’s store? The one that pulled my hair and told me I was adopted because I’m small and I don’t look like any of you guys. You freaked out on him and made him apologize and scared him away. He’ll cross the street now if he sees you coming.”

“You can’t let bad people get away with doing bad things,” TJ reasons. “If you don’t stop them, they’ll just keep doing bad stuff.”

“Exactly! So it’s a good thing that daddy goes after the bad guys. Grandma needs to learn. And she needs to learn TODAY. You should tell her, Tyler. You should tell her off. You’re not scared of anyone.”

“Not being scared of anyone or anything is not always a good thing,” Tyler informs her. “If you’re not scared, you don’t take a situation or people seriously. That’s when you get hurt. And you know what? No matter how big of a bad ass you think you are? There’s always a bigger one out there somewhere. Believe me. I’ve learned THAT lesson the hard way.”

“The guy who shot you just got a lucky one in,” TJ reasons. “You were already hurt. You weren’t one hundred percent. Some guy had already shot you, hadn’t he? A sniper?”

“What’s a sniper?” Addie inquires. “Is it like Swipper on Dora? Something like him?”

“We don’t need to talk about that,” Tyler says. “You don’t need to know that stuff. Not until you’re older. WAY older.”

“A sniper’s a guy that hides somewhere and shoots you,” TJ replies. “Somewhere where no one sees him. It’s why they’re so dangerous. You don’t even know where they are. They just shoot you. And they kill you before you even know what happened.”

“But daddy didn’t get killed. If a sniper shot daddy, shouldn’t he be dead?”

Combing his hand through her bangs, Tyler tips his daughter’s head back. “What did I just say? About you not needing to know about this stuff?”

“I’m curious now. Tyler said they hide and shoot people and kill them. How come you didn’t die? If a sniper shot you?”

“I guess he didn’t manage to get a good shot in.”

“It was the other guy that almost killed him,” TJ says, and takes a sip of the concoction in his hand. “The one that got him in the neck. That’s when he almost died. Mum saved him.”

“How? How did mummy save daddy? Daddy…” she swivels around in her stool to face him. “...how did mummy save you? Did she shoot the bad guy back?”

“Mum stuck her fingers in his neck,” TJ says. “To stop the bleeding. Or he would have bled to death.”

Addie’s eyes widen. “She DID?”

“When you’re older, MAYBE I’ll tell you more more about it. But for now…” Tyler places his hands on her shoulders and gently turns her back around. “...you don’t need to know this stuff. And you…” he stares pointedly at his son. “...don’t talk about this around her. She doesn’t need to know about this. She’s a baby still.”

“I’m not a baby!” Addie objects. “I’m five! I can almost ride my bike without training wheels. Babies can’t do that.”

“Just don’t, alright?” He addresses TJ. “Don’t talk about this stuff around her. Because she’s going to repeat all of this and she’s going to repeat it to your mum and that won’t end well. For you OR me.”

“It happened though. I mean, it’s part of how you guys met and got together and ended up getting married and stuff. It’s your history. I don’t see why…”

“I said ENOUGH. No more. Not around her. Got it?” He’s on edge; the mere mention of Dhaka and the incidents on the bridge playing straight into the anxiety and the panic he’d felt the night before; when he’d woken up from the nightmare and been on the verge of losing control and had turned to the fentanyl for relief. And it scares him; how easy it had been to not only access the powerful med, but actually take it. He’d encountered no resistance or hesitation; remorse and guilt not setting in until the following morning when he’d woken up and it had been the first thing on his mind. It’s alarming how quick things can return; an addict’s mind and behaviour.

Nodding, TJ holds his hands up in surrender.

“You’re both going to be nice tonight,” he says, and finishes Addie’s final braid. “To grandma. Because your mum is already stressed out enough and we don’t need to make it worse for her. So if the best you can do is smile and nod, just do that. I’m not asking you to kiss her ass. I’m just asking you to be civil. Can you handle that?”

TJ nods.

“You?” He tugs on one of Addie’s pigtails. “Can you do that? Be civil?”

“Do I have to be near her? Or sit on her lap? ‘Cause I draw the line there.”

“You don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. Just don’t be a little asshole, alright?”

“Me? I’m Mary Freaking Sunshine, remember? That’s what Grandpa Koen calls me.”

“Well then live up to it and be nice to your grandmother. Smile until your face hurts, got it?”

“What do I get out of it?”

He smirks.

“Mummy says to always negotiate. Never settle for the first offer. Can I sleep in the big bed tonight? For being nice to grandma?”

“No.” Wrapping an arm around her waist, he lifts her off the stool; pressing a kiss to her cheek before setting her on the ground.

She turns to face him. Head cocked to the side and one hand clutching her doll, the other planted firmly on her hip. “Can I have ice cream for my bedtime snack?”

"Maybe."

“Maybe isn’t good enough.”

“You ARE just like your mom, aren’t you.”

“I’ll be nice if I can have ice cream for my bedtime snack and you snuggle with me and draw on my back for half an hour. And that’s after FOUR stories.”

“You're bossy, you know that? Two stories.”

“Three. That’s as low as I’ll go.”

“I will give you two stories, ice cream for your snack, and forty five minutes of snuggling and drawing on your back. Instead of half an hour. We got a deal?”

Her eyes narrow as she considers it; nibbling on her bottom lip and swishing her hips back and forth. “You’re good at this.”

“This isn’t my first rodeo, Peanut. I’ve dealt with tougher than you. What do you say?” He offers a hand. “Deal?”

“Deal!” she agrees, his hand easily swallowing hers as they shake on it.

Grinning, he runs a hand over the top of her head and then drops a kiss on her hair. “You really DO have a lot of your mum in you.”

“Great things come in small packages,” Addie reasons, standing on her tiptoes as he leans down and pecks her lips. “Thank you, daddy!” she chirps. “My hair looks beautiful. You always do it perfect.”

“Pretty hard not to when my subject is so cute. Good thing I married your mum, huh? So I could have a kid as cute as you?”

“You really are a lucky man!” she declares and then cheerfully skips out of the room.

“I hope grandma is on her best behaviour,” TJ says, as he finishes the drink in his hand and then slides off the stool and returns it to its place at the island. “Because if she DOES start on mum, it’s going to be a wild night. I really hope she watches her step.”

“My too, kiddo,” Tyler sighs, and reaches out to tousle his son’s hair. “Me too.”

[since0202]

Chapter 26: Heal

Grace woke up to the low, cloudy light of dawn breaking around her. The low light still caused her vision to go in and out of focus as a throbbing headache made its debut. She groaned, raising a sore arm to her face and rubbed it. 

She had no concept of time or where she was but she felt deep, pulsing pain throughout her body. She tentatively touched at her midsection and sucked in a breath like a hiss as the tender skin felt too hot to touch. Grace slowly stretched the fingers on each of her hands and felt the excruciating pain shoot down her wrist and up her arm. She felt battered, like she’d been stamped by a thousand hot irons pounding at her body for hours. It probably wasn’t the best idea, but Grace tried her best to push her body upright into a sitting position. A painful moan escaped her as her vision went black.

“Hey, woah woah woah.” Suddenly there was someone kneeling beside her, bracing her back, their hand hot and firm. She knew that voice. 

“Where am I?” Grace said, her voice scratchy and hushed like she had a sore throat. 

“My place.” Paul said, his face coming into better focus. “Drink this.” He held a glass of water to her lips and she drank gratefully, draining the glass easily and gasping for air afterward. 

“Where’s Jake?” she croaked. Grace was too disorientated to even take in the fact that she was in her ex-boyfriend’s bed in a home that was supposed to be hers. That ache had no room to exist as her body screamed at every move she made. 

“They took him home. He’s okay, he’s healing.” Paul was scanning her body frantically. He didn’t know what to do when she had passed out. He just knew he had to get her out of that clearing before the ancient vampires —Volturi the doc had called them—came into the clearing to kill them all. So he rushed her to his home. She had been out for a solid 18 hours until now. 

Grace rubbed her eyes and tried to bring more things into focus. She looked down at herself, still wincing at even the slightest movement. She was wearing one of Paul’s shirts and her pants were missing. 

“My clothes,” she said groggily, an aching finger pulling at the shirt she had on. 

“Yours were covered in blood,” he breathed. “You scared the hell out of me. Grace being in that clearing was not part of the plan. You could have gotten killed, why the fuck did you do that?” his voice rose slightly as anger flooded him. Seeing her in the clearing had sent a shock wave through him. One he felt rippled down the pack. 

But he had to admit that once she was there, they felt renewed, faster, more agile, their adrenaline at seeing her allowed each wolf to tap into a stronger or maybe more panicked version of themselves. Sam had been the most upset. He was trying to keep everyone safe and was pulled in so many directions during the fight, dividing his attention to ensure no one died on his watch. And when Grace came into the clearing, that attention dialed in to just her. It was maddening for him. Paul thought he’d attack Grace instead of the newborns for a second.

Grace looked at the empty glass and said in a hoarse voice: “Can I have some more water?” 

Paul nodded, letting out a huff of air and stood up to get her more. When he went into the kitchen there was a soft knock at the front door. He set the glass down and pulled it open. 

Rachel. 

“I come bearing gifts.” She said, a small smile on her face. Paul felt his stomach drop. Just seeing her made everything swim in his head. His eyes cast around her face to the beautiful sprinkle of freckles dancing across the bridge of her nose to the strand of hair that fell in front of her perfectly tinted russet skin. Her amber eyes almost glittered and her full, ruby lips pulled open into a welcoming smile. 

“Um, hey.” Paul mustered. She let out a light laugh and returned a “hey.” 

His eyes fell to the stack of clothes in her hands. “I brought some clothes over for her. Thought she might need it, what with all the blood.” 

“How’s Jacob?” Paul said. He could see the pain there on her face. 

“Yeah, he’s okay. It’s going to take a bit for him to heal, but the doctor has him on a morphine drip to keep him comfortable. My human biology course isn’t really coming in handy as much as I thought it would considering the whole….wolf...thing.” Rachel paused to look Paul up and down. She’d been given a crash course in the pack’s secret once Paul had imprinted on her. He had also demanded that Sam let him tell her.

She held out the clothes in Paul’s silence, her warmth never leaving her voice. “Here. She’s only a little bit shorter than me, but these should fit.” Paul took the clothes, their hands brushing in the process. Rachel blushed and Paul tried to keep the heat from rising in his body. 

“Thanks.” he said. Wow. So eloquent. Great job, Paul. Real smooth. You have seen a girl before you know? Idiot. The thoughts raced through his head. 

“Okay, well. See you later!” she trilled before hopping down the steps, stumbling just a little in her overexcitement. Paul automatically took a step forward like he was going to help her but she held a hand up and laughed, heading toward her car. 

Paul carried the glass of water and clothes back to his bedroom and kneeled by the bed where Grace sat with her head in her hands. 

“Hey.” he gently said holding the glass out. She took it but it started to slip from her fingers. He placed his hand on top of hers and helped tip the glass so she could drink. 

He set the half empty glass down next to the bed and held out the clothes to her. “Something to change into.” Grace gently folded her arms around the clothes and gave a soft ‘Thanks.’ 

Her head was still spinning and showing no signs of stopping. The ache was growing rather than subsiding and she felt an excruciating need to get out of here. 

“Can you take me to Jake?” she said automatically, trying to listen to her body. Paul hesitated, his eyes staring at Grace, trying not to touch her. 

“Yeah.” he whispered, pain apparent in his voice. Grace tried to focus on his face but he kept disappearing behind a blur making its way across her vision. “Can you stand?” he asked. 

She hadn’t considered this. Her body felt weighted in a pain she’d never experienced before. 

“Can you help?” she said as she winced and tried to pull herself up. Paul grabbed her easily, like he was meant for it, and took the weight off of her limbs as he pulled her into a standing position on the floor. He gently placed her on her feet, slowly letting her weight come down. She gripped his forearms for support and felt the blinding pain of standing on her own. Without meaning too, she let out a sharp cry of pain and a pitiful “Ow, ow, ow,” that triggered Paul to panic and lift her again. 

“Okay, that’s not gonna work.” Paul said, “I don’t think we should move you yet.” 

“Just help me get dressed,” Grace said, her labored breathing returning. Paul looked at her carefully and then nodded his head. Grace was flushed with embarrassment but didn’t see any other way. He gently removed the shirt he had changed her into before putting her and she shivered. Paul tried to keep his face straight. Looking at her now felt different and filled him with guilt. Grace didn’t even bother trying to cover her exposed chest before Paul pulled the University of Washington shirt over her head that Rachel had brought. He leaned down and Grace raised her leg to thread through the fitted matching sweats. He pulled them up around her hips and tightened the strings on them, tying it into a loose knot so they stayed put. He picked her up under her knees and took her to the car, stone faced, trying not to think about how warm her body felt in his arms. 

When he pulled up to the Black residence, he could see some members of the pack filtering out of the house. He popped open his door and they came over to him.

“Is she okay?” Embry asked worried, his eyes pulled to where she sat, eyes closed, in the front seat. 

“I’m not sure. Is the doc here?” Paul replied. Quil shook his head. 

“He just left but we can get him back if you need.” 

“Yeah, maybe. I need to get her inside, she’s been asking for Jake.” 

Embry and Quil gave him a surprised look. He didn’t really want to deal with the barrage of questions. “Just go get the leech.” He said annoyed. They nodded at him wordlessly and were off, slowing to stare at Grace as they went past. 

Paul grabbed her from the car gently and walked her into the tiny house. He had no idea what he was supposed to do with her, but when she murmured a sign of being awake, he gave an exhausted sigh and walked her toward the back of the house where Jake’s room was. When he pushed open the door, Sam was there. The tiny room didn’t afford for this many people but Grace was already awake and pulling out of his arms, reaching for the bed. 

“Put me down,” she grumbled. Paul tentatively set her down, holding around her waist in case she fell. Grace looked hypnotized, her body reacting to seeing Jake’s motionless frame sprawled on the bed. His face was covered in a sheen of sweat and he was pulling in deep labored breaths that were raspy and tight. 

“Doc said his lung collapsed but that it was healing. He had to reset all of the bones on the right side of his body because he healed too fast and they fused together unevenly.” Sam’s voice shot through with pain. Paul saw the guilt there—Sam thought it was his fault that Jake got hurt and thought he’d never forgive himself.

Grace, still entranced, pulled herself onto the bed next to Jake. She shimmied herself  into the left side of his body that wasn’t wrapped up in gauze and buried her head in the crook of his neck. His left arm automatically circled around her waist and his breathing evened out some, the rasp cooling. Grace immediately felt the relief crash through both of them. Her pain ebbed and she let the gentle rise and fall of his chest lull her to sleep. 

At some point later in the day Carlisle came in, but Grace floated in and out of consciousness as he took her vitals. He seemed perplexed by her state, muttering something about not being able to get a good read on anything since it was so inconsistent. Since he had limited knowledge on how their wolf bodies healed and even less knowledge on how Grace’s bodies interacted with theirs, he didn’t feel confident giving a determination or diagnosis. 

Jacob was improving quickly and was able to be conscious for longer periods of time over the next day. He wouldn’t let anyone take Grace from him though, keeping his arm tightly around her as she struggled to pull in air through her throat. She seemed to be getting worse for some reason. 

Sam spent most of his time sat in a chair in Jacob’s room or wandering up and down the short hallway, pulling at the nape of his neck. Emily was having a hard time getting him to eat. 

“Should we get Ti’Hal?” she asked Sam at one point. 

“Not yet.” Sam said, afraid of what she might say. But it became apparent that they’d need to call her in sooner than later when Grace stayed asleep for a solid 24 hours, the sounds in her chest starting to rattle. Jacob's lung was almost healed at this point. 

When Ti’Hal shuffled into the small room, Jake was awake, his arm wound around Grace. He had slowly pulled her more and more on top of him in an attempt to bring her closer. Her body was now draped over the left side of his, her head in the center of his chest. Ti’Hal gave Jake a soft smile and put her hand to his cheek, closing her eyes. 

“You’re healing well,” she acknowledged. He nodded but looked down at Grace, concern warping his features. “Ah.” she said, “But you’re not worried about you.” She moved to place her hand on Grace’s forehead and one on her back. Ti’Hal sat for awhile just listening to Grace. 

“She’s healing,” she finally said. A domino of sighs could be heard in the living room where most of the pack had been milling about, listening intently. “But she’s healing you first,” Ti’Hal said definitively. 

“What?” Jacob said surprised. “Why?”

“She’s healing him?” Sam said incredulously. 

“First, she heals him and then herself. She protects, heals, defends, and connects. But you haven’t made it easy on her.” Ti’Hal suddenly said looking over her shoulder at Sam and then back to Jacob. She wasn’t accusatory, simply stating a fact. Something she understood better than them. 

“We’re still figuring it out, Ti’Hal,” Sam said with some strain in his voice. 

“Figure it out together. Or you’ll end up putting her in more danger,” she said sternly, closing her eyes once more to feel Grace and then taking her leave. “She should wake soon. I suggest you don’t move her and keep her close to Jacob so as not to interfere with the healing.” Sam nodded and helped her to the door where her granddaughter was waiting to ferry her back home. 

“So we wait.” Jared said in the living room. Sam turned around and nodded. 

“We wait.” 

Paul stirred uncomfortably on the couch. Rachel was in the kitchen cooking them some food with the help of Emily. None of the pack wanted to be away from the Black residence or Grace for too long until they knew she was in the clear so they spent their afternoon and evening huddled in the small living room, eating and joking and watching TV or spilling out onto the lawn to kick around the soccer ball. 

Word got out about “the accident” and the community showed up. Theo Merdra, the local carpenter even stopped by and made it a point to say he’d come and fix their sagging porch and install a proper wheelchair ramp for Billy. He even replaced a rusted rain gutter while he was there and had his son clean the debris from the roof. 

Bella showed up every few hours to check on Jake and Grace and helped clean and cook. She brought over a duffel bag of clothes, a toothbrush, and toiletries for Grace for when she woke up knowing she’d need to shower. She asked Rachel to call her as soon as Grace was up so she could come and help. 

The Black residence was soon overrun with a massive amount of food, some of Sue’s friends came by and cleaned up the house. George Runnings fixed the wiring on the back of their fridge since it kept blinking on and off. Billy was overcome with emotion. Everyone who came through did their best to keep it down to ensure they didn’t disturb Jacob or Grace. Jacob was almost fully healed by the second day and only moved from her side to go to the bathroom. 

Carlisle had stayed away to ensure he didn’t overstay his welcome with the community descending on the Black home. But he was itching to get back to monitor Grace. As the sun set on the second day, Grace’s eyes fluttered open. 

“Hey,” Jacob said, cupping a hand to her face.

“I need to sit up,” she croaked. 

“Okay, okay,” Jake said. He pulled his body up and rested it against the wall and then gently pulled Grace between his legs so her back rested against his chest. He looped his arms around her stomach and she leaned her head back onto his shoulder, winded by the sudden movement but breathing clearly.

“How do you feel?” Jacob whispered. Grace laid her hands on top of his and looked out the window at the people gathering around a makeshift bonfire in the twilight. Seth was kicking a ball around with Jared and Embry. The sounds of happy voices floated in through the window. 

“Like shit.” Grace finally breathed. “But better. You?” 

“Like new,” he said, kissing the side of her head. She closed her eyes at the warm feeling. 

“How long have I been out?” 

“Couple of days.” 

“Mmm,” she replied, lazily sinking into Jacob’s embrace and turning her head to face into his neck. He rested his head lightly on top of hers and pulled her in a little closer, making sure she was tightly nestled into his body. 

“Grace?” Jacob said softly. 

“Mmm?” she replied again, starting to drift in and out. 

“We really need a shower.” He laughed softly, his body shaking her some and her face cracked into a smile, starting to laugh too. 

“Oh my god,” she mumbled. “Gross.” Tears sprang to Jacob’s eyes as he pressed another firm kiss to her forehead. He was so happy she was awake, she was alive, and she was here. The thought of losing her in that clearing suddenly washed over him and he squeezed her ever so slightly. 

“You okay?” Grace muttered sleepily, her hand coming to gently rest on his cheek where she felt the clear damp of tears on his face. 

“Fine. You just smell...really really bad. It’s making my eyes water.” he joked, letting out a choked laugh. 

“Nice one,” she breathed before drifting off to sleep. 

Late that evening, Grace was feeling good enough to get up. With Jake behind her, she stood on her own two feet and only winced a couple of times before standing upright. She stretched her neck around and shook out the pain in her hands. Rachel was in the doorway of the room supervising. 

“I’ll call Bella,” she said and disappeared into the kitchen. Grace made her way slowly into the hallway toward the living room. Leah was there, biting her thumb and when she saw Grace come into the room and shot to her feet. 

“Grace, I’m so so sorry,” she said. She’d been holding in her guilt for the past three days. Grace waved her off and said, 

“Leah, it’s fine. Are you okay?” Leah nearly crumbled at this question and nodded her head quickly. “Good.” Grace paused for a second and then looked dejectedly at her feet, “I really have to pee.” Leah bounded over as an uncertain look crossed Jake’s face. 

“I got it.” she said and led Grace to the bathroom. 

“Bella should be here in 15. Leah, fill up the tub while you’re in there.” Rachel called. Total mom-mode. She hugged Jacob and confirmed that he indeed did smell. 

“I’ll wait until Grace is done,” he said. “Got some grub?” Rachel smiled and opened the stuffed fridge. “Woah.” he said. 

“Take your pick. Or you can wait. I’m making mom’s homemade lasagna,” She smiled at him and he felt so glad that she was home again. Just then the pack spilled through the open door elated and pulled Jacob into a group hug. 

“You’re alive!” Seth cried. 

“Thought you were a goner for sure.” Quil said. 

“Yeah, what took you so long?” Embry said. 

“Jeez Jake, way to hog all the healing for yourself,” Jared jabbed. Sam came through the door and looked to Jake. 

“She okay?” The worry was still there. 

“Yeah, she’s in the bathroom with Leah,” Jake said, giving him a reassuring smile. Sam nodded, relief pulling down across his shoulders. 

“Who’s hungry?” Rachel said, pulling out some freshly baked lasagna. Bella arrived, taking a second to hug Jake tightly before saying, “Where is she?” 

“Bathroom,” multiple voices answered her before Jake could even open his mouth.

“Okay,” she said, her face looked flushed as she headed down the hall. She knocked on the door, announcing her presence before pushing it open. Leah came out a few seconds later and gathered around the table with the others. 

“God, I haven’t heard someone pee for that long in my entire life.” 

There was a chorus of ‘Ewws’ and ‘I’m eating’ and ‘When you gotta go you gotta go’ followed by laughter around the table as the group dug into the food. 

[martellthemandalor]

Fight or Flight - Part 2

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x F!Reader

Warnings: langauge, guns, blood, violence, alcohol, angst

Rating: T (teen)

Word Count: 4.2K+

A/N: Part 2!! Here we are after two weeks, which I’m impressed with becuase uni has been kicking my ass lately. Just a PSA that I mildly hate myself for writing this becuase I hate hurting Frankie. Thank you to @mylifeliterally for beta reading this! As always likes are appreciated, reblogs encouraged and comments are adored :)

If you haven’t already, read part 1 here!

Masterlist

GIF credit: @conveniently-available

Staying away from Frankie was working so far, the atmosphere between the two of you softening as your anger faded slowly with the distance. Everyone was happy with this, the boys starting to properly relax again in your presence and your relief at that knew no bounds.

Things were starting to feel like normal again.

Benny’s fight had gone… well you weren’t entirely sure how it had gone, but he was insisting that he had won and that was a good enough cause for celebration in the group.

The old squad had retired to Benny’s favourite haunt, a small Irish themed pub a few streets from the gym. There you were now sat, favourite beverages in hand, talking as if the last god-knows how many years hadn’t passed at all.

Ben had insisted that you weren’t paying for own drinks tonight, overjoyed that your good luck kiss had worked its magic on him. You certainly weren’t complaining, even if you did start to feel a little guilty as the other boys insisted that they pay for a few too.

Fish didn’t say anything to you but you clocked him slip his own contribution into Will’s hand, muttering something to him. Next thing you knew another bottle had been handed to you by the blonde.

A tiny wave of guilt washed over your stomach as you stared at the drink, offering your thanks to Will who simply gave your shoulder a squeeze in return. He knew it wasn’t meant for him.

The feeling quickly washed away though, replaced with that warm fuzz alcohol provided.

While it was true you had planned to lightly flirt with Benny at the start of the evening, you hadn’t expected it to be as enticing as it was to just… keep going. So, you did.

“So Benny, since when I was your good luck charm, hmm?” You queried lightly, nudging him with your elbow.

“You always were Athena, though honestly you’re more of a good looking charm than anything else.” He winked at you. It caused you, Will and Santi to groan in response.

“Come on Ben that was awful, surely you have better lines that from your other good luck charms,” You said.

“Ain’t ever been any other charm but you Ath. You gave us all our luck on missions and it continued into the ring. Wouldn’t want anyone else,” Benny confessed, all the boys nodding their agreement.

The sincerity of his words sent heat flaring to your cheeks. The boys had often joked that you were some kind of blessed, always knowing the best route out of a sticky situation, knowing when shit was about to hit the fan, knowing how to get everyone to safety even if they weren’t with you. You always said it was just paranoia and a lot of experience, but they insisted it was no joking matter how many times it had saved all your skins. All except… once.

“He’s right you know,” A quiet voice caused your head to snap from where you had been staring at your drink. “I know you don’t always believe it, but he’s right. You saved all our asses more times than I can count.”

Frankie. You stared at him, the heat from your cheeks now shifting to blaze a firefight behind your eyes.

“And yet the one time I needed you to save mine, my luck ran out? Is that it?” You snapped.

Frankie shrank under your gaze, refusing to meet your eyes. You watched his hands fidget with his bottle, fingertip skimming the rim. Then, calmly, in a move that you’d never seen before, he placed his hands flat on the table, keeping them still.

“Do you want to do this now?” He asked, his voice low, level, considered. “It’s been killing the guys to find out what happened to us, so do you want to do this now?”

They all were watching you now, four pairs of highly trained eyes bearing into your soul.

“Is that true?” You asked the group. The blaze in you never softening, the bite in your words not held back.

The answering silence told you everything, very clearly.

“You guys want to know what happened, huh? Is your curiosity finally getting the better of you now that we’re both here?” You sniped. It was all of them avoiding your eyes now, heads ducked away from your firing line.

“Hermana, you don’t have to-” Santiago started, cut off abruptly when you threw up a closed fist.

“No, I think it’s time we got it out there. I’m ready to talk. Frankie, honey, do you want to tell them? Or should I?” Fish squared his shoulders somewhat, but still couldn’t look at you. One hand had closed around his bottle again, knuckles white, gripping it so tight it looked as though it could shatter at any moment.

“Fine. Fish left me to die.” You let the words hang. And for a moment, nothing happened. Like the grace period between releasing the trigger on a hand grenade and the moment of devastation. There was silence.

The once light atmosphere instantly thickened as the words hit each of the boys in turn. It felt like smoke had filled the air around your table, swirling around you and choking up the boys before any of them had even thought of a response.

You pushed through.

“It was my last mission, before I was forced out of our company. We were out in the Rainforest, targeting some base camp. Shit went sideways. We all scattered and that was my call. Me and Fish ended up together, you know we always did. I kne- I thought, that he would always have my back.”

It was true. Frankie had always watched your six, more vigilantly than any of the other boys combined. A natural response, you thought, to being hopelessly in love with someone. It had certainly been the case for you. Your usual sharp surveillance turned up to eleven whenever he was near you on a mission.

“But on that day? That day he didn’t. We were being pursued, shots taken on us at every opportunity. I took out three of the guys behind us. Nine shots. Clean kills. No struggle.” You took a breath.

The squad was hyper focused on you, practically unblinking as you conjured the past into their minds. Even Frankie was staring at you now, mouth pressed into a firm line as he forced himself to pay attention.

He owed you that much.

“We’d made it to the hillside, one of our landmarks for tracking the distance back to the rendezvous. Things got real quiet behind us and I thought, stupidly, that we had somehow out maneuvered them. And then the rock-fall happened.” Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment. The memory of the gut wrenching fear so vivid you could practically feel it again, twisting and writhing deep in your belly.

“There were too few and they were too close together to be anything natural. I looked up and there the bastards were. I didn’t even think, just pushed Frankie off the path, down the shallow slope into the undergrowth. I just, wasn’t fast enough for myself I guess.”

You pulled up the left side of your shirt, showing the very obvious bullet wound scar that resided under your ribs. Benny’s mouth fell open, his hand moving towards you, only to swiftly clench into a fist on his thigh.

“I fell. Fell back off the ledge and into the undergrowth with him. Initially it was scrambled calls for med-evac and checking me over and telling me to keep pressure on it. My hearing started to go. Things got distant, but I could make out muffled shouting from above us. Then Fish called into his comm and gave me a look, I had no clue of why he was looking at me that way. Until he left. Left me there, bleeding out on the ground. Dying on the cold, damp earth.”

You cracked then, no longer being able to just play narrator, retelling it from some unfeeling perspective. It was becoming too real, too sharp in your mind as you replayed the event in four-D. You tried to quell the aching urge in your chest to gasp for breath by taking a long swig of your drink.

“I don’t know how long I lay there, in pain and on the verge of giving up, before med-evac showed up and saved me.”

Tears were threatening to roll down your cheeks, your head starting to spin as you battled to keep them at bay.

“Excuse me,” You muttered quietly, flying from the table and into the restroom.

The glass of the mirror was a glacier against your forehead, the smooth edge of the sink below you gliding under your thumbs as you anxiously stroked them across the surface. Your breathing was starting to even out as you used the sensations to ground yourself.

You thought you had been ready to talk about this, especially with the boys. Maybe it was because you had gone about it in a rather hostile way.

That was probably it.

You leant back from the cool glass, watching as your reflection shook her head at you.

“Get yourself together,” You firmly told yourself, “Go out there, apologise and finish the night on a high. Okay?”

The table had gone back to its normally bubbly ambience, the boys talking animatedly amongst themselves.

Your gut did a somersault. They all looked so happy, so carefree, even Frankie was talking happily with them.

You couldn’t stop observing him. The way he smiled and how his shoulders shake slightly when he laughs. His hands were gesticulating wildly when he spoke, the alcohol freeing them from their usual firmly crossed position.

Something flipped in you. The simmering anger that had flowed through your veins at the sight of him evaporated into lingering guilt.

All the tension, everything that had been off about the evening, it had all been your fault.

You took a breath and checked that you still had your phone and wallet in your pocket. You were just going to leave, let the boys have the carefree reunion they deserve.

Shit. Your coat.

Your coat was hanging off the back of the chair that your really didn’t have the stomach to approach right now. You considered making a run for it, just walking past and nabbing it. The problem with that is the boys would instantly notice.

No. Easier to leave it, you can just drop a text to Pope and tell him to drop it at your hotel room later.

You exited the bar quickly, hoping none of the guys saw, and started walking back to your room.

“You left your coat you know.”

Fuck.

Of course Santiago had noticed you slipping away. You stilled, and took a deep breath.

“I- I’m sorry Pope, I just… had to go.”

“You don’t have to apologise, Athena,” Santi spoke softly as he approached you. His arm looped into yours, and as you started walking the two of you fell instantly in step. “It couldn’t have been easy for you to tell us that.”

“No, I do. Not just for unloading that onto you about Frankie, but for being an asshole all evening. I put so much tension-”

“Ath, I promise you that there has been very little tension, things have been great this evening. Anything between you and Fish is between you two alone,” Pope gently squeezed your arm. “Will, Benny and I all knew that things wouldn’t be easy for you two tonight, so I promise you that any ‘tension’ you think you’ve caused was fully anticipated and did not ruin the night.”

The glow of the hotel drew closer with every step and 5 minutes ago the warmth and comfort would’ve been calling to you. Instead, all the warmth and comfort you needed was radiating from your best friend, his words gentle and reassuring in their very nature.

You looked over at him, at the face that had always greeted you on your worse days, and smiled with genuine affection filling your features.

“Thank you, Santiago,” You gave his arm a gentle squeeze, returning the one he had given before. “You always know what to say to me don’t you?”

“I’ve had years of practice, hermana,” He responded kindly.

Pope walked you to the door of your hotel room, even after you insisted that you were more than fine, and left you with a firm hug and a gentle kiss on your cheek. You believed that would be the last you’d see of any of the boys until tomorrow.

Settling in for the night, you were moments away from turning on the TV when a soft rapping at the door was about to prove you wrong.

You padded over to the door and peered through the peephole.

Fuck.

The latch on the door clicked as you opened it for your ex.

“We need to talk.” The words rushed from Frankie’s mouth before you even had chance to take a breath.

Standing for a moment, you studied the man standing patiently in the hallway. His hands were shoved in his pockets, cap pulled low over his face. His stance told you he was nervous, but his eyes betrayed a confidence that you weren’t even sure he realised he had.

“Okay.” 

Standing aside, you held the door open and let him slip past you. You shut the door behind him, leaning against it as the lock engaged.

Fish stood in the centre of the room, smoothing down his shirt before taking off his cap and slowly rotating it in his hands. His eyes were steady on your face, waiting for you to make the first move.

The air between you was thick and heavy. The bed suddenly looked like the most inviting place in the room, so you moved to sit on it, positioning yourself at the headboard. You leant forward and patted the space of mattress at your feet, a quiet signal for Frankie to get comfortable.

There was no hesitation his part, swiftly moving to settle cross-legged at the foot of the mattress. Even now, when you both knew that this was going to bare more of your souls to each other than you ever had before, he was still giving you all the space he could.

“Where do you want to start?” You asked, your voice calm and almost, almost, soft.

“You first. Just, tell me everything, whatever you feel or have felt. Me and you, we were… we were never good at that, we repressed and tried to forget. Especially with this and it broke us. So please, please I want to know, I want to understand.” He was almost pleading with you.

Of everything Frankie had ever asked you, this was the most terrifying of them all.

He was patient. Sitting quietly while you gathered your thoughts, he gave no indication of wanting to rush you. He was right. The two of you had never been good at talking out your feelings. You both tended to bottle them up until they exploded in moments of anger or were thrown into sex.

After a few minutes of quiet searching, you finally formulated a script of your thoughts.

“I loved you with everything, Frankie,” You began, taking a deep breath before continuing. “My entire heart and soul, and do you know where it went? With every passing minute after you abandoned me, every second that I lost more and more hope of you circling back to get me, all my love for you bled out.”

Your hands curled into fists on your thighs, the gentle pinch of your nails digging at your palm grounding you from the rise of unbridled emotion. Frankie kept still, attentively listening to your every word.

“My heart shattered away, piece by piece, with every weakening beat and gushed from my wounds. Its out there, somewhere, Frankie. My love for you is stained blood red onto the jungle floor.” Your voice was starting to crack, the tremors in it impossible to ignore.

Frankie’s mouth fell open a little at that. You could see in his face that he was desperate to say something, but he chose to draw himself back, to keep listening to you.

“I thought getting shot hurt, but it was nothing, nothing, compared to the pain of you leaving me to die alone,” You croaked, your throat constricted with the effort of holding back the rolling tears. Tears which were starting to drip down your face regardless.

“You broke me, Frankie. I can’t date, can’t connect with anyone else. Even if I want to I can’t, because I have this constant fear that they will get up and leave me in the dark,” Your breath hitched as the script changed, a dangerous realisation fighting its way to the front line of your thoughts. “And I can’t date them because none of them are you.”

The reaction in Frankie was instant. Choking on air, his eyes frantically searched your face for any sign of a lie. When he found none, you watched as he forced himself to relax, a shaky breath leaving his lungs.

Your own body slumped against the headboard, the admission winding you completely. All your composure was gone. The puppet string that you forced yourself to follow had been severed. There was no room for acting alright anymore. Not tonight. Not with him.

“My turn.”

Frankie shifted on the bed, looking as though he was going to crawl up to you. Instead, he merely turned a little in order to face you head on.

“You deserve to know the truth. I deserve for you to let me do that. Okay?” He was coaxing you, gently.

Even now, after everything, he was still asking your consent.

Your consent to let him talk. Your consent to let him change your memories. Your consent to finally let yourself feel.

“Okay,” You said quietly, a nod accompanying the small sound.

“When you fell beside me, your clothes slowly darkening before my eyes, my first instinct was to call for Med-Evac. I followed our training, trying to stop the bleeding and giving our location over the comms. But, I… they…” Frankie paused for a second, an unsteady hand dragging down his face.

You leant forward, closing the chasm that lay between you and the man you loved just a fraction.

“I heard them shouting above us. Kill all survivors. It wasn’t good enough that they’d shot you, they wanted us, you, dead. I just knew, that if I stayed there, if I called in Medics, if I showed even one sign that either you or I were still alive down there,” He closed his eyes, squeezing them tight for a moment. His fists were closed too, scrunched up in the sheets that lay beneath the two of you.

You shuffled forward. Just a little.

“Dios. (“God”) They would have killed both of us. In those seconds between hearing them and calling off Med-Evac, my mind ran through every single possibility of how I could get you out there alive. I couldn’t lose you. I couldn’t ever lose you, mi petardo.” (“My firecracker”)

You tried to speak, but Frankie cut you off with a shake of his head.

“I made the only decision that I thought could possibly save you. Let them think you were dead. Leave you and make you seem like a lost cause and maybe, just maybe, you would survive this. It was the hardest decision of my entire life. I tried to tell you what I was doing, but I think shock had set in and you couldn’t hear me at all.”

The tears were escaping down his face now, all attempts at staying stoic failing as the tell-tale droplets fell. Your heart constricted at the sight, the urge to fly to him and wipe them away blooming deep in your chest.

“The look in your eyes broke my heart. You were so afraid and I knew you were about to become infinitely more so. Leaving you there was the worst thing I have ever done, in the whole of my life. If I could ever reverse it, if I could ever switch places. I would do in a heartbeat.”

Frankie’s face was glistening, but he made no attempts to wipe away the continuous stream of tears. It drew your attention to the fact that you too were still crying, unregistered droplets falling down your own cheeks.

Fuck. You wanted to reach for him. To pull him safely into your arms and apologise a million times over for how fucking selfish you had been.

The silence was becoming deafening, echoing in the cavern between you, ricocheting back and forth in a plight to be broken.

Then it was like the gaping space between you vanished. A lifeline was strung across, attached to both your hearts as you both opened your mouths and…

“I’m sorry.”

The words were spoken in complete unison. So much more than just an apology, it was an acknowledgment. Of what, you weren’t quite sure yet.

You tried to speak again, but Frankie spoke over you.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you the truth earlier. I should’ve fought harder to see you when you were so set on not seeing me. Not talking to me. I didn’t want to force myself onto you, into your space. I wanted to give you time to heal. But I- I left it too long. It wasn’t much later that I decided the best thing for both of us was to just let you go.”

Frankie’s silent sobbing was becoming more and more physical, deep, shaking breaths starting to wrack his speech. You found your heart starting to shatter all over again.

Fuck giving each other space.

You practically pounced on him, arms and legs wrapping round him as you buried your head in his shoulder. You told yourself it was because you were trying to hide your own tears. In reality you knew it was because right there is where you felt safest.

It was where you always were safest.

It took a moment for Frankie. It was like his brain stopped working for a few seconds. But once it fully registered that it was you in his lap, his arms circled your body, holding you tight to him.

You felt his face nuzzle into your hair, his tears beginning to dampen the soft strands.

“I was wrong, I was so, so wrong,” Frankie sobbed against you.

“No, shhh, no you weren’t,” You hushed, your hand coming up to smooth over his unruly curls. “I was. I was stubborn and hurting and unwilling to listen to anyone.”

“You were hurting because of me,” He murmured.

“No Frankie, I was hurting because of me. It was my decision to push you first, my decision to not let you see me.”

You pulled back from his neck, moving to rest your forehead against his. Your hands cupped his face, thumbs sweeping over the rosy apples of his cheeks.

“We… we both made mistakes. We both fucked us up. It’s like you said, neither of us were any good at talking out our feelings. This was just the culmination of that,” You breathed it out, the words fanning over his lips that hovered mere inches away.

“I still love you.”

The words were whispered. Barely audible if not for how close you were. A confession so short, yet still held the weight of a thousand bullets.

“I still love you too.”

The parroted words broke down every single one of the walls that you and he had built up over the years. All the heartache, the hating, the yearning, the supressed loving, it all disintegrated in a moment. None of it mattered right now, not now you both knew you had felt it all together.

“Can I kiss you?” Frankie asked. His now words bolder and more assured.

You nodded, momentarily biting you lip before pressing them to the familiar shape of Frankie.

Everything melted away, the room, the world, the past, all with the gentle brush of his lips against your own. It was unhurried, long presses of lips that slowly turned to languid passing of tongues. Relearning what the other felt like, tasted like.

When you finally broke apart, you spent a few minutes in comfortable silence. Your hands glided over each other’s body in the quiet, using feather-light and comforting touch.

“Can we try again?” You spoke the question with firmly shut eyes, afraid that his answer wouldn’t match the one you were longer for.

You felt his hand your chin, gently tilting your head up and encouraging you to open your eyes.

When you did, you found yourself looking into his dark chocolate orbs. The corners of his eyes crinkled just slightly in a way that let you know the smile he wore was genuine.

“Cariño, I want nothing more. But,” Frankie paused, the smiling falling from his face. He pressed his forehead to yours, rocking his head to the side slightly as he did. “We need to be better. Better for each other. We… we need to learn to talk shit out.”

You brought your hands up to move his head, bringing it down to rest in the crook of your neck, cradling it there.

“We will,” You promised. “We’ll be better. We’ll work this out.”

And as you sat there, holding your world in your arms, you knew that you and he finally had the second chance you didn’t know you had been craving.

-

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