#when i relapse i think of him and he helps me feel better.... i do not relapse as often or for as long as i used to because of him....

[ef-1]

legs & lessons in perseverance | march '23

[oscalesoffeeling]

thank you, huffie ❤

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for breaking up with my boyfriend because he likes my body?

TW for ED but please hear me out:

My bf (30m) and I (28f) have been together for a little over 5 years. When we got together I had an extremely stressful and physically demanding job. Shortly after our relationship started I relapsed with an eating disorder that had been a problem since prepubescence; I started restricting heavily at age 11 and had struggled with it on/off since then.

After quitting that terrible job and regaining some agency in my life, I spent a couple of years really focused on recovery. Without giving specific numbers (cause triggering) I'll say that I was extremely underweight to an unhealthy level for at least a year and experienced severe health complications because of it. I nearly died from heart problems and had a big wakeup call that caused me to change my whole life. I've done the work of recovery without medical help (history of omission with doctors) but have had support from my bf, and am currently at the highest weight of my life.

at a recent checkup my Dr talked a lot about "healthy lifestyle" and mentioned my weight gain over the past couple of years. I'm still within the "normal" range for my height and build, but the after visit summary/chart notes denoted risk of becoming overweight. Idk if my Dr would have brought it up if my history of ED was in my chart, (and I did switch primary care practices a few years ago, so they weren't treating me at my thinnest) but it still shook me a bit and I will admit to feeling very triggered.

The job I moved to is quite sedentary compared to the previous terrible one - I wfh, and very rarely have to be on my feet or do strenuous activity. In addition, I have chronic pain issues that make exercise difficult, and so historically have just restricted to maintain/lose weight because it's easier for me physically to just be hungry than to work out. I didn't want to go down that road again though because of how intense and scary it got last time.

My bf is a personal trainer and specializes in working with low ability clients and people recovering from long illness/injury. When I told him that I wanted to start exercising more often and get a good cardio routine going, he was really excited and started immediately putting together an "action plan" (what he calls it w his clients idk) for me. Then he mentioned how I'd need to add on a bunch of meal supplements and snacks to avoid losing weight and I got upset.

We're a plant-based (vegan) household and live with a roommate (bf's friend) so mostly eat/cook communal dinners and have various breakfast & lunch plans on hand, so we already eat pretty healthy and make sure to have a good balance of macro/micro in the meal plan. My intent was to eat the same but increase my activity level to get out of the danger zone without restricting. I don't generally snack and rarely eat dessert, just the 3 squares.

I told my bf that I needed to lose weight and be more active according to my doctor, and that I wasn't comfortable with having protein supplements, smoothies, and snacks in addition to regular meals because that would defeat the purpose. He got really sad and said that he likes the way my body is now, and while he supports being more active, he doesn't want the size of me to change. His exact words at some point were "you look so good now, I love the amount of you that there is and I like the way you jiggle." It kind of made me feel sick and wonder if he has like a secret size fetish or something?

So I've been thinking of breaking things off with him and moving in with a friend or back in with my parents, but idk if this is actually a red flag or just the disorder talking? He did help me a lot with recovery but if he's going to keep me from being healthy or wants me to gain even more weight then maybe it's better to leave - would this be an asshole move? I honestly don't know.

[morallyinept]

Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series - Chapter 19

Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.

Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.

And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude

Chapter word count: 7.3k

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: Frankie takes a brave step and Jude suspects Frankie is keeping something from her. Chapter contains smut.

Enjoy! 🖤

Chapter 18

Before the crash…

“Hola, hermanita. (Little sister) Hey. I need to talk to you. It's... important. Yeah, I'm okay. Well, kinda. I just... I just found out I'm pregnant… Ya sé, noticias grandes. (I know, big news) Yeah, I’m positive… It's positive! There are two lines, I’m staring right at it now…

"Shit, I don’t know what to do. Dios mío, no sé qué hacer. (God help me, I don’t know what to do) I just… Yeah. I know… I... I don't think now is the right time to tell him. Things have been so strained between us lately. I don’t even know if we… if we’re going to make it… No, I know it’s stupid, but I just feel… I’m losing him… No, I am. He-He’s not been the same since the overdose, and I-I don’t know if I can go through that again… I don’t think I could bring a baby into that situation either, right?

"I just don't know how he'll react. What if he doesn't want this? What if he leaves?... Maybe it would be too much for him, right? He needs to get better and a baby would just mess all that up!… I'm so scared, what do I do, hermanita?... Yeah, I know I have options, but, I can’t- that’s not… wait. Listen, I have to go. He's just got home. I'll call you later, okay? Kiss abuela for me...” (grandma)

Carla ends the call and quickly slips her phone into her pocket, standing up. She glances her weary and pallid reflection in the mirror and wipes under her mascara heavy eyes.

She can hear Frankie in the kitchen and pauses at the bathroom door, taking a deep breath in. 

She can still smell it as she breathes, the harsh, sterile smell of hospital disinfectant. Can hear the steady beep of the heart monitor pulse in her ears, a rhythmic reminder of his fragile state.

She tries not to see it but it barges its way in, haunting her all over again. 

Frankie lying unconscious, his face pale and gaunt, a stark contrast to the vibrant man she’d once known and fallen in love with. She reaches out, her fingers gently brushing against his hand, cold and unresponsive.

Tears well up in her eyes as she takes in the sight of him, hooked up to tubes and machines. It’s a scene she’d dreaded, one that she’d feared might become a reality ever since she’d learned about his struggle with addiction. But seeing it, the reality was more crushing than she could’ve imagined.

She’d been at work when she received the call from Will. The rush to the hospital, the panic, the fear - it all felt like a blur now. 

But the image of him, lying motionless on that bed, was seared into her mind forever. Carla had thought they were making progress, that he was getting better. But the overdose had shattered that illusion, bringing her crashing back to the harsh reality of his addiction - he would never get better, not really. Sure, there would be bouts of time where he would be sober, but that fear of him relapsing would always be there. A shadow lingering behind her back waiting. 

How could she bring a baby into that chaos? How could she raise a child when the father was fighting a battle that could end in a quick moment? 

“Estoy en la cocina," (I’m in the kitchen) Frankie calls up, his voice carrying up the stairs.

She can feel the distance between them, the unspoken words hanging in the air like a dark cloud. The weight of her discovery presses down on her, but she pushes it aside, hiding the test and focusing on the moment at hand. 

Whatever happens next, Carla’ll face it - she has to.

Present day…

He’s been standing there for what feels like hours, gathering the courage to move forward.

The air is thick with the scents of an early summer - saltwater from the nearby Gulf, blooming magnolias, and the faint tang of spiced seafood that consummates in the Floridian air - but to Frankie, it carries an undercurrent of fear and regret.

The small house, with its open windows, cracked awning and the heavy silence from inside, seems to pulse with a heartbeat that mirrors his own anxious rhythm.

His heart is racing and palms feel slick with sweat. The sun casts a warm glow over the neighbourhood, but Frankie only feels the cold bite of anxiety.

The island has stripped him to his core, forcing him to confront his darkest fears and deepest cravings. Yet the challenges of survival seem minor compared to the emotional ordeal he’s about to face.

The world around him seems to blur, the house and suburban street dissolving into a stark, unforgiving landscape. Finding himself back on the island, the relentless sun beating down on him, the smell of salt and decay in the air, he sees himself at his lowest, shaking and sweating as the need for cocaine claws voraciously at his mind.

The sunlight casts clear, sharp shadows that seem to dance and mock his hesitation. He takes a deep breath, feeling the warm air fill his cracked lungs, and forces his feet to move.

He climbs the tiny, singular step up to the door, a mountain that seems impossible to peak, yet fighting the battle against the urge to turn and run. 

Frankie raises his hand to knock but freezes, his fist inches from the wood. He lowers his hand and stares at the swirling grain, feeling the crushing weight of his doubts. The sunlight seems to swamp closer, the whispers growing louder.

He closes his eyes, summoning the strength he’d found on the island, the resilience that had kept him alive. He drifts to Jude, her unwavering support, and the love they’d discovered amidst the chaos. He thinks of how she’ll take this news, her face twisting into bitter disappointment.

He thinks of the promise he’d made to be a better man. But not even Jude's strength could protect her from the island's cruel whims. He remembers the day she lost their baby, an event that shattered them both and still continues to do so in some twisted way, giving him a chance at parenthood when it was ripped from her. The grief and helplessness had been overwhelming, a pain deeper than any he’d ever known.

Frankie clenches his fists, digging his blunt nails into his palms until the sharp pain grounds him in the present. He can't afford to be weak, not now. 

With a final, resolute breath, Frankie knocks on the door. The sound deafening on a quiet day. The seconds stretch into an eternity. Then, the door creaks open, fluttery eyelashes greet him and that familiar tinny jangle from her wrist fills his ears. 

“Hey,” he all but croaks. 

“Es bueno verte de nuevo." (It’s good to see you again.) Carla smiles thinly. 

A small crook of his lips under the shadow of his cap convinces her of the same, as she steps aside, the scent of him flouts itself so uncouthly as he passes her. 

Her expression is a mix of surprise and guarded hope, and despite the small amount of time that’s passed them - what’s in a year? - she looks worn and tired around her almond eyes that used to be buoyant and keep him afloat. 

“We’ll need to be quiet, he’s sleeping,” she murmurs as Frankie follows her to the kitchen, pausing momentarily to glance upward at the stairs. 

“You want some coffee?” She asks casually as he sets himself down at the table. 

“Uh, yeah.” He says, as he spies piles of folded baby clothes in a basket on the floor by the dryer. 

His fingers wrap around a warm cup of coffee and Carla sits across from him, her hands cradling her own mug, her eyes studying him with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

The silence between them is palpable, punctuated only by the distant hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the house settling. Frankie's gaze drifts to the ceiling, imagining the tiny form of his child asleep up there.

The thought sends a shiver down his spine, a potent mix of fear and anticipation as it bottoms out in his gut. 

Frankie takes a tentative sip of his coffee, the bitter warmth grounding him momentarily as it scalds his lips. He glances at Carla, noticing the subtle changes in her face - the faint lines of worry and the traces of sleepless nights scattered purple and weary in her sockets.

He wants to ask her so many things, to understand what she’s gone through in his absence, but the words feel trapped in his throat, heavy and cumbersome to swallow down or bring up. He wants to ask her the whys and hows, but he knows it’s fruitless. The stark reality is here and he has to face it head on, whether he likes it or not. 

"How’ve you been?" Carla finally breaks the silence, her voice gentle but probing. 

Frankie hesitates, searching for an honest answer. "It's been... hard," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Of course it has, shit. Lo siento, that was stupid. I can't even imagine," she says, her eyes reflecting a deep empathy. (I’m sorry)

He looks down at his hands, the coffee cup trembling slightly in them. The ripples in the dark liquid remind him of the waves that had battered the island's shores, each one a reminder of nature's unyielding power and him being nothing but a slave to it.

The rhythmic crash of the waves echo in his mind. The sensation of being adrift, caught between the past and the present, consumes him for a few moments.

He sees Jude, her face etched with pain, as they bury their hopes and dreams in the sand. The ocean had seemed both a barrier and a saviour, holding them captive, yet offering a taunting promise of escape.

Frankie can feel the rough texture of the island's ground beneath the hardened-over skin on the balls of his feet, and smell the brine in the air. The tremor in his hands grows stronger, the coffee sloshing precariously close to the rim of the cup.

"Are you okay?" Carla’s voice cuts through the fog of his thoughts, pulling him back to the shores of the present.

She reaches out, placing her hand tentatively over his, steadying the trembling cup. 

"I'm... I'm fine. How are you? I mean, how-”

She sighs and settles back into her chair, taking the once familiar and comforting touch with her. “I was planning on telling you, but… we ended, and then the plane and-”

“Yeah.” Frankie nods, averting his gaze.

“I just couldn’t believe it when Benny told me you called him. That you were alive.”

“I still can’t believe it myself.” He runs his hand around his neck, feeling the ribbing of the scars that mottle there. It’s all too real and visceral. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

He closes his eyes, but the darkness behind his eyelids only intensifies the sensation.

He sees the plane crash in vivid detail - relives through the moment of impact, the chaos, the feeling of helplessness as he struggled for breath in the water.

“Can we talk about… the baby?” He says, hesitating. 

Caral nods and begins to tell him everything. How it had been a week since she and Frankie had broken up, a painful but necessary decision given his ongoing struggles with addiction, and the fact he was adamant it was over, even if she would’ve fought for him.

She was pleased he was getting help and had Eddie to guide him, but he was still pulling away. She was trying to move on, to rebuild her life piece by piece without him, moving in with her sister across town.

A news alert had popped up on her screen on that fateful day: Plane Missing Over the Pacific. She’d skimmed the headline, feeling a pang of sadness for the people involved but not thinking much of it. Plane crashes were tragic, but they were also rare, distant events - stories that happened to other people.

She’d put her phone down and went about her day, trying to keep herself busy and weighing up her options about the pregnancy the more she discussed it with her sister. As much as she didn’t want to consider it, her mind swayed into confusing and guilt heavy thoughts of a possible termination. 

It wasn't until late afternoon that her phone had rung. The caller ID showed it was Will, one of Frankie's closest friends, or at least before he’d pushed them all away. She’d hesitated for a moment before answering, a knot forming in her stomach. Perhaps he was calling because he’d heard about the split. But then as he spoke down the line, Carla’s world had stopped turning.

The kitchen seemed to spin around her, and she’d gripped the edge of the table to steady herself. She doesn't remember much after that. The hours and days, and soon months that followed Frankie’s disappearance were a blur of emotions - fear, hope, guilt, and overwhelming sorrow.

Each passing minute that Frankie was gone and wasn’t coming back, felt like an eternity. She’d thought about their last conversation, the pain and frustration that had driven them apart. She’d hoped that some time apart would help Frankie find his way back to sobriety - and to her - but the longer time wedged itself in, she feared that time had finally run out. The thought of him out there, somewhere, possibly hurt or indeed dead, was unbearable. 

She hadn't told him about the pregnancy, unsure if it was the right thing to do, but then her mind had been made up after the funeral - she’d raise their son alone, a last connection to Frankie and allow him to live on, for everyone that would miss him. 

His addiction had always been a constant shadow over their relationship, and Frankie feels the grip of culpability as he thinks about the pain he’s caused her as she speaks. She’d stood by him, supporting him even when things seemed hopeless.

Carla had loved him deeply, but his demons had often gotten in the way. He realises how much she’s endured, and it makes him admire her even more. She’s strong, resilient, and compassionate - qualities that had drawn him to her sparkle in the first place.

"Carla. I'm so sorry for everything," Frankie says, his voice trembling. "I-I know I messed up before, but I wanna make things right.”

Carla’s eyes shimmer with unshed tears. "Francisco,” she only uses his full name when she’s serious, he notes, “the fact that you're here, willing to try, means more than you know. I know you’ve been through a lot, and I know this has come as a shock. No es así como quería que esto fuera. But we'll take it one step at a time. He’s your son, and he deserves to know his father." (It’s not how I wanted this to go)

Frankie nods, feeling a tendril of hope unfurl from a tight bud somewhere inside of him.

“But…” Carla begins, “you have to stay clean. That’s the condition. You can spend as much time with him as you want, I won’t get in the way of that. But if you can’t… then you won’t be allowed to-”

“I know.” Frankie swallows thickly and holds her eyes. “I won’t let him down.”

And he believes those words as they crawl out from under his tongue. He wants to believe them so badly. The feeling of worry is an opaque heavy fog, seeping into every corner of his consciousness. It’s a weight pressing down on his chest, making it hard to breathe.

Carla nods, picking up her mug. His thoughts drift, unfocused and chaotic. Images of the past few months playing out in a disjointed sequence - Jude’s face etched with concern, the eerie quiet of the island at night, the baby boy he has yet to meet.

“Can I see him?” The words feel alien as they pour out of his mouth. 

“Are you ready for that?” Carla asks, scrutinising him carefully.

“Honestly, no.” Frankie takes off his cap and runs his hand through his mussed curls.

She remembers the feel of them, sliding through her own digits once upon a time.

“I’m fuckin’ terrified.” He admits timidly as he puts his trusty cap back on his head. “I just... I want to be a good father," he confesses, his voice tinged with bubbling emotion. 

“You're not alone in this, Frankie," she says, firmly.

"Gracias," he murmurs sincerely. "For giving me a chance. I know I don’t deserve it, especially from you.”

"I loved you Frankie, it is what is, I guess."

She wipes her eyes and looks away momentarily. They sit in silence, the weight of their conversation hanging between them until she looks at him again and smiles softly. 

“Come on.” Carla sways as she stands. 

Frankie’s gaze falls upon the crib, where his baby boy lays asleep, his tiny chest rising and falling with each peaceful breath.

Frankie's breath catches in his throat, and he feels a rush of emotions he can't quite name. The baby is perfect. Fine wisps of dark hair crowns his head, and his chubby cheeks are flushed with the warmth of sleep. Frankie approaches the crib hesitantly, his hands trembling uncontrollably. 

“It’s okay,” Carla whispers, encouraging him. “He’ll sleep through anything.” 

He leans over the crib, watching his son with wide, tear-filled eyes. The baby's tiny hands are curled into soft fists, and his mouth moves slightly as he dreams.

Frankie marvels at the delicate features, the smallness and fragility of him. He feels an almost physical ache in his chest, a swell of something so intense it’s almost painful and he struggles to breathe through it.

The enormity of it all hits him - he’s a father. He has a son. This little boy is a part of him, a piece of his heart made flesh. Frankie feels a surge of pride, but it’s quickly followed by a salty tasting wave of crushing fear.

“How do I do this?” He murmurs.

Carla steps beside him. “You be there.” She says as if it's simple, and of course it is. Such a simple, yet daunting thing. 

Frankie’s brows furrow with uncertainty. He wants to understand, to grasp the simplicity she speaks of, yet it feels elusive, intangible.

"Be there." He repeats, exhaling slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

The concept seems deceptively straightforward yet filled with profound implications. The ease of being present is daunting, a responsibility he isn't sure he’s fully prepared for. Thoughts race through his mind, a jumble of plans and uncertainties. 

Carla squeezes his shoulder gently, her touch grounding him in the moment.

He reaches out, gently brushing his fingertips against the baby's soft hand. The warmth of the sensation sends a shiver through him, and he swallows hard, trying to keep his emotions in check. It’s all too much. 

“What’s his name?” Frankie asks softly.

The baby stirs slightly, his tiny hand curling around Frankie's finger in his sleep. He lets out a shaky breath, his legs feeling like they might collapse under him at any moment.

“Frankie.” Carla replies. 

The absence of him is growing, mutating, and it’s been so hard to get through the days without him. 

Jude can’t sleep; tossing and lying awake for hours staring up at the ceiling and at the empty spot in her bed where Frankie ought to be; his long limbs wrapping around her like a spider devouring its prey.

The heavy bouts of tiredness have seemed to appear out of nowhere over the passing days, evidently the effects of arduous life on the island catching up with her. But it’s not enough to keep her still; she’s undeniably restless.

There’s something ansty picking at her scalp, gnarled fingers raking at the soft flumpy jelly of her brain. She can’t put her finger on it, perhaps it’s the stupid self-imposed distance she’d put between them. Her insistence that they sort their lives out individually, when all she wants to do is spend every waking moment in Frankie’s arms. 

Since their departure, watching him drive away, each time Jude had closed her eyes, the vivid images of the tsunami rising on the horizon flashed through her frontal lobe, keeping her tense and wrought.

To add to that, she’d be accosted outside her parent’s house during her comings and goings to the point that that she soon had to fight her way through the small crowd of paparazzi expanding as the days wore on; hounding her as soon as she stepped foot out of the front door to tend to piecing her life back together again. 

“Please, leave me alone,” she’d say to them as they crowded her until she got into her car and drove away, fraught and wrangled at their infecting presence now in her life.  

At night the news broadcasts would still replay the moment they came through the arrivals together at JFK; Frankie clutching his arm around her and holding her tightly against his body whilst she shut her eyes and got through it.

She would watch it over and over like a zombie, unable to look away. Remembering how those arms felt around her and how much she missed them. 

Life back here was hard, and Jude found herself missing the peace on the island, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply to calm herself, imagining she could hear the crash of the waves rolling up on the beach, the water splashing over her ankles and knees.

Headlines didn’t exist on the island, in fact nothing did. Just her and Frankie existed in their own confined and safe bubble away from the brutish realities that life harboured. Life that she’d been so desperate to get back to at one point, but now that she’s here, living in it, it’s just... well, it’s not like Jude remembered at all. 

She’d reach for her phone and scroll through, searching for sounds of the ocean waves. Pressing play she’d slouch back into the pillow as the familiar, comforting sounds of the waves filled her room and she could finally sleep for a while.

But it wasn’t enough to quell that irritating picking. 

One night she’d decided to get up, and soon found that she was running, in the middle of the night. Running until she was exhausted and her legs were screaming at her to stop. 

Jude had eventually stopped, miles from home and threw up on the sidewalk; choking on catching her breath through the heaving, and it tasted like putrid sea water.

She’d cough it up, plumes of it coming out of her and swirling around her feet as she stood horrified, zoning out at the waking nightmare that seemed to plague her. Feeling as real as the water sinking into her sneakers.

The lumpy puddle of vomit stared back at her as she calmed her mind, trying to convince herself it wasn’t real.

It’s not real... you’re home now, you’re safe. 

But home was strange, unsettling the way the city skyline twinkled in the distance, the towering buildings looking like giants against the backdrop of the dark sky. The sight should have brought comfort, a sense of familiarity and security. Instead, it only heightened Jude’s unease. The vastness of the urban landscape stretched out before her, a stark contrast to the confined space of the island that had been her world for so long.

Jude had proceeded to walk home in the breaking dawn and the sun was almost fully up by the time she’d stepped through the door. Her parents regarded her with an anxious look at the early hour, and Jude brushed it off to them that she was fine. 

But the trend had continued every night; Jude would get up and run.

She would run until her body was on the verge of collapse, her feet bloody with blisters, and then when she would return home, she would pass out from exhaustion and sleep for only a few hours until the nightmares began to resurface again. She’d ply herself with coffee to stay awake, anything to not go there, and the cycle would repeat itself. 

The one thing that was getting her through was the thought of seeing Frankie again.

And on the same evening after Frankie had seen his son for the first time, he and Jude are indeed talking on the phone, confirming the final details for his visit.

Jude feels instantly relaxed when she hears Frankie speak or breathe or chuckle down the line. Like every plague of angst swilling around her is instantly washed away.

But there’s something in his voice, a slight hesitation, a dimming of the light. Something she can’t put her finger on, so she changes the subject. 

“There’s been a few members of the press hanging outside the house.” Jude almost whispers.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I guess they’ve figured out where I live.” She sighs. “They won’t leave me alone.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Frankie enquires, his voice changing further down the line.

“What can you do about it?”

“Well...” he trails off, “nothing, I guess, but that’s not the fuckin’ point.” He bites down on his lip. “Maybe it might be good to tell our story. Maybe it might offer some closure?”

“Closure?” Jude baulks.

“Yeah. I think we kinda need it,” he pauses. 

“Mom says I should talk to someone, a therapist.” Jude says quietly.

She knows her mother means well, always the pragmatic voice of reason in their tiny family. But the suggestion stings somewhat, reopening wounds Jude is trying to bury. But in the back of her mind, perhaps that’s what the prickling is.

Frankie frowns. “You can talk to me, y’know.”

“I know I can. I keep having nightmares. It’s like I can’t get it outta my head, you know? It’s keeping me awake at night, the insomnia is pretty bleak right now.” She looks down at her blistered feet and winces.

Frankie goes quiet on the phone. He remembers all the times the sea water has chased and tried to drown him too.

“I hate knowing that you can’t sleep.” Frankie remarks sourly.

“It’ll be better when you’re here tomorrow. I miss you so much.” Jude says, her voice going quiet. 

“I miss you too, hermosa.” 

“I gotta tell you something… I bumped into Nate.” She waits when there’s an obvious pause on the line. She hears him take in a slow, steady breath. 

“You did?” Frankie asks, freezing on the spot.

“Yeah.”

“Well, tell me what happened, what did he say?”

“Nothing much, same old Nate. He seemed convinced that we could get back together.” She snorts in repugnance.

“I see.” Frankie hums quietly.

“Frankie?”

“Yeah?”

“You have nothing to worry about. I love you. I told Nate he didn’t stand a chance and that I didn’t want to see him ever again.”

“Kinda hard when he lives in your fuckin’ neighbourhood.” Frankie bites.

“Frankie-”

“Yeah, I know, sorry.”

“You okay? You seem distracted?” 

He sighs hard down the line, running a hand through his hair. He knows he’s being guarded, but he can’t help it. The events of the past year, hell the past day, have left him with walls he doesn’t know how to dismantle.

“I’m okay, really. Just tired. I just... I fuckin’ hate this. I hate being away from you like this.” Frankie explains, the pulling in his gut subsiding a little. 

“I do too. Was a stupid idea...”

“Yeah, not your finest.” He smirks down the line and she can hear it. Hear the fragments of the sun gleaming.

But Jude’s intuition tells her otherwise. She can sense the barrier between them, an invisible but palpable divide that his words don’t bridge.

“Frankie, you know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

“I know,” he says, but the words feel hollow, knowing she deserves more than the half-truths he offers, as if they’re spoken from a distance.

The silence between them stretches out, taut and uncomfortable. He can sense Jude’s concern, her need for reassurance, and he knows he’s failing to provide it. He shifts in his seat, searching for something to bridge the gap.

“I’ve, uh, been looking at some apartments today. Here, in Florida.”

“Oh.” Jude says, her voice small and unsure.

He pauses. “You don’t like the sound of that?” He’s trying to keep his tone light, but unable to mask the underlying anxiety.

“No, I just... I mean, New York is my home and-”

“Yeah?” Realising how his announcement must have sounded to her, he pauses.

He’d intended to steer the conversation away from the emotional minefield of his pick n' mix of feelings, but instead, has inadvertently introduced another layer of unseen complexity.

“Well, my parents are here, and my work and-”

“You can visit them whenever you want. Your parents can come visit us too, it’s just a flight away.” Frankie says, sounding agitated.

“You mean you want me there, in Florida?”

“We love each other and want to be together, right?”

“Of course,” Jude confirms. 

“I guess I’m just trying to figure things out, and Florida seems like the best place for me to be right now.” He grits. 

“Why Florida specifically? You can figure things out anywhere, Frankie.”

“I just think it’s the best option right now for me to be here.”

“For what?” Jude is silent for a moment, her breath heavy on the line.

“Why are you so against it?”

Jude baulks. “I’m not, I’m just… have you really thought about this? It seems kinda rash all of a sudden, to be looking at apartments there.”

“Yes. I don’t understand what’s so fuckin’ difficult about it!” Frankie snipes, his tone flat and sharp.

“Woah, Frankie. What’s gotten into you?”

He hears her sigh heavily down the phone and she doesn't say anything else, waiting for him to respond.

“I’m sorry... Mierda, I just got in my head about it.” (Shit) Frankie replies, running his hand through his hair. “I thought maybe you’d wanna be here with me.”

“I want nothing more than to be with you,” she says, her voice softer but no less resolute. “But we need to find a way to do this together. We can’t make decisions in isolation, Frankie. We need to talk, really talk, about our future together, and where that might be.”

“Yeah.” Frankie confirms. 

“We can talk about it more tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure,” Frankie replies, the words feeling both a relief and a heavy responsibility. “Listen, I’m gonna go. I’m tired, okay?”

“Okay.” Jude says, feeling deflated. 

“I’ll call you in the morning, before my flight.” He replies bluntly.

“Yeah.” 

“Okay.”

“I love you,” Jude says.

 “You too. Night.”

“Night.”

Instead of going for her run, Jude curls up into a ball on her bed, hugging her pillow and stares out at nothing.

The phone call with Frankie has left her feeling more unsettled, a gnawing worry twisting in her stomach. Her mind races with thoughts of the changes he’s proposing. Big changes moving to Florida to live with him? It seems so drastic, so sudden.

She understands his intentions, but the idea of him making such a significant move without fully discussing it with her feels like a betrayal somehow.

She tries to tell herself that perhaps she’s worrying over nothing, but her gut, the same gut that alerted her to Nate and his devious ways, convinces her all is not right with Frankie. 

When he ends the call, Frankie tosses his phone down on the coffee table in Benny’s apartment and sits contemplating for a long time. Thinking and his mind whirring until the sounds of the water starts filling his ears again.

Irritated, Frankie rifles through some drawers until he finds a blank notebook and a pen. 

He sits with the notebook on his knee and begins to write. 

The landscape of silvery skyscrapers and the concrete jungle of the Big Apple are getting closer.

The turbulence that had once been a minor inconvenience now feels like a personal assault, each bump and shake magnifying his anxiety.

The cockpit had once been his sanctuary, a place where Frankie felt invincible. But ever since the crash, flights feel different.

The familiar hum of engines, the routine safety announcements, the very sensation of being airborne - everything that once brought him comfort now fills him with a creeping dread.

The announcement for descent breaks through his reverie, and Frankie braces himself for the landing. The plane dips and sways slightly, and his heart pounds in his chest.

He grips the armrests, white knuckling and closing his eyes, counting down the minutes until the plane touches down. The plane eventually hits the runway safely and begins its journey to the terminal. 

Frankie’s booked another Air Bn’b for their reunion and Jude’s already there as he enters the apartment door, standing up and rushing to him, locking lips with him almost immediately that it makes him unsteady on his feet.

And he melds instantly around her. It blocks everything out, quietens the tornado of his mind and stifles that ache he’s felt since he watched her shrink in the distance.

Her lips are the same softness they’ve always been, her tongue tasting of longing and desire. He grips her tight, unable to let her go and fathom truly that she's back in his arms.

Frankie looks at her, pulling back whilst holding onto her arms, and regards her, taking her in all over again. She’s cut her hair and he weaves his fingers through it, smiling at the new length and how it changes her face.

She looks a little less gaunt, beginning to get those supple curves back that he remembers from the early days, filling out her clothes a little better and not having to hold up her jeans as she walks.

She wears a small smattering of make-up and he thinks she looks beautiful regardless - and that he’s wholly undeserving of her.

Jude reaches up and runs her fingers through his significantly shorter curls peeking out from under his cap, and marvels at how soft they feel.

His eyes are still that muddy swamp that swallows her whole. Those heart shaped lips are still a pink rosy splash of intense colour on his face that she longs to taste again and again. 

The welcome and anticipated feel of her fingers grazing behind his ears hair whilst she’s stood on tip toes is an indescribable relief. 

Frankie stares back at her with those piercing eyes and she’s held there under the spell of his gaze unable to refute him. Breathing never used to be so hard, but she has to constantly remind herself to do it whenever he looks at her like this.

The mastery of him leaves Jude breathless.

“Hey hermosa,” he smiles into her lips as he tastes her again.

“Hey Catfish” she says, kissing over his lips with a heated fervour. 

He’s here with her and it feels like she can finally breathe again - he’s finally home. 

Her fingers are delicately circling up and down his chest; pulling him out of sleep, dipping into the softness of his hips, trailing across to the slot of his belly button.

He lays there for a few sweet, oneiric moments quietly enjoying the patterns Jude makes on his skin and how it makes his nipples awaken with him too. 

It’s been the first full night’s sleep he’s had in over a month, since he’d parted ways with her and left her in New York. Frankie doesn’t wake with a sweaty jolt from a torrid nightmare of drowning, or burning and instead feels more rested than he’s ever been. 

Holding her in his arms all night, after they’d made intense love for hours beforehand, she’s managed to sleep too and isn’t lying awake trying to calm herself with ocean sounds as insomnia strangles her. Nor does she feel the need to run until she can’t feel her feet anymore.

Jude's forehead is resting against his cheek and is tickled lightly by the graze of his scruff reaching out of his pores, and his lips glue themselves to her temple now and again kissing against it, signalling he’s there with her in the land of the conscious.

Frankie lusts for the feeling of her making swirly tracks over his epidermis and leaving little shivers as she glides over his hips and sides of his waist. 

Frankie runs his fingers down her spine and up again; he hears her breathe out contentedly.

He’s soft and relaxed; his warm cock resting languidly against the top of his thigh, and her breasts are squashed into the side of him, her leg hooked over his left leg.

Waking up together slowly through sleep-filled eyes and enjoying the warmth of the day as the sun pools in through the window, with those breathy sighs and stretches around one another’s limbs.

“Mmm,” Frankie hums out into her crown, ghosting his nose into her hairline and indulging in the scents of her hair. 

Jude shadows her fingers gently in return over his groin, down onto the plump circumference of his balls and gently massages them; tiny pitter-patters of her fingertips against the skin that bunches around them.

Enjoying the firmness of them through the somnolent comfort of their hazy bliss, she rolls them gently between her thumb and fingers squeezing softly. 

She begins cupping him gently and squeezing, kneading as she makes his breath hitch further in his throat. His fingers are felt crawling at her neck, scratching away at the nape delicately. 

He reaches for her chin, tipping her face up to meet him and plants a delicate smooch on her that soon morphs with its vivid passion. His other hand goes to the skin around her back and slips, clutching onto her bare ass, squeezing her pliant meat in his tender grip. 

She rolls over his balls and up the length of him that’s hardening, waking up fully to the sensual feel of her touching on him again. 

Frankie draws his right leg up and out of the duvet, resting it back down as he opens his legs a little wider as Jude starts pumping his now awake cock gently. Up and down slowly and with her grip tightening around him. 

He grunts out; a delicious sound escaping his mouth and nose as though he chokes.

He strokes down her back again, making her nipples hard as her skin tingles cold from his touch. His fingertips dance and create little convulses as he drags them up her body making her ripple softly against him.

He rests his hand on his waist; a splayed giant starfish as she looks up at him, and he looks back into her eyes through that hooded desire that’s clouding them into a milky latte in the morning light. 

“I love it when you touch me like this,” Frankie whines, enjoying the feel of the relaxed jerk session she’s giving him in the early morning dawn. 

“I love touching you like this,” Jude confirms. 

They’re spread together in the puffy sheets of the bed, warm and content from one another’s skin, touching and stroking and feeling one another.

He reaches for her breast, running his knuckles against her pebbled nipple, making her groan equally into his mouth as he kisses her again. That nub of each jolt through it sends sparks up her thighs and into her pussy that’s flooding for him. 

He grunts out again, a deep hum on his larynx, drawing his knee up and holding onto his thigh as she works him tighter and little more rhythmic now. 

The slick feel of his hard cock inside her hand is paramount as she licks her palm and runs it over him, squelching him through her saliva. 

His eyes roll into the back of his head at the feel of it; so wet and sensitive right on the tip of him that it makes his legs judder with a spasm. 

Frankie breathes in, grunting and pursing his lips out, bucking his hips slowly into her grip.

“Fuck,” he drowns inside of her hair; feeling her fingers dancing around his balls and massaging as she strokes his cock up and down.

Running her thumb over his frenum and making the delicious pull wind tighter under the muscles of his abs.

“Feels so fuckin’ good,” he drones, biting down onto his plumpy bottom lip and closing his eyes as they roll back into his lids. “You make me wanna come so bad...”

His hips are trembling and his hand is reaching for her chin again as he swallows her in a swamping kiss. 

He groans out with a hissed snuffle; his teeth clenched together and his cheeks blown out, his eyes shut and lost somewhere between rational thinking and pure unadulterated bliss.

His hips wind as Jude pumps and jerks him off tighter, harder, faster - tugging on his balls now that are aching wonderfully through it all. 

“Fuck, yeah…" His breath vibrates in the back of his throat as he sucks in little gasps in succession

“Come for me, Frankie,” Jude whispers into his chin. 

Frankie tenses his ass, his cheeks rising from the mattress slightly as he feels everything in his body rush towards the end of his cock. 

“Fuck!” His head contorts back into the pillow. 

He covers her fingers in warm, plentiful glops, some of it spraying up his chest as he comes. 

She strokes him gently through his sticky come down as he reaches for her, kissing her deeply and pulling back to look at her as she smiles at him with sleepy, dream filled eyes.

“I love you,” she whispers. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Should we… should we maybe talk about Florida?” Jude probes gently as she reaches for a tissue from the box on the bedside table. 

“I love you too, hermosa.” He moans back into her mouth. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

He holds her tightly, closing his eyes as he breathes out in sweet relief.

Frankie wipes his chest down as she hands it to him, and she notices he avoids her gaze. He screws it up in his fist and turns to her. 

He hesitates, the words catching in his throat. This is the moment he’s been dreading since he found out himself. How can he tell her? How can he shatter all her illusions?

“I know you said Florida's the best place for you right now, but is it really, considering how much…” she chooses her words carefully, “... pain, is there?”

His eyes soften at her and he feels the catch in his throat. Of course she would worry about his addiction. That’s just who she is, always wanting the best for him.

Jude had been his rock during his darkest days on that damned island. She had seen him at his worst - angry, desperate, afraid - and she had never given up on him. Her unwavering support had been a lifeline, a beacon of hope when everything else seemed lost at sea.

Jude had believed in Frankie when he couldn’t believe in himself, and now, even with the weight of his past mistakes and the uncertainty of his future, she’s still here, still caring. Still loving him even though he knows he is far less than deserving of her. 

Frankie swallows hard, emotions swirling sickly inside him. He feels a mix of gratitude and guilt. Gratitude for her steadfast love and support, and guilt for the pain and worry he’s caused her. He can see it in her eyes as they peer carefully back at him, a slight spark of trepidation and confusion. 

“Frankie, you’re worrying me, please talk to me.”

He can see the concern etched on her beautiful face, the worry that perhaps he’s back on the drugs. It’s an unspoken fear that lingers within her, a cariogenic shadow from the past that refuses to fade completely.

Frankie knows she has every reason to be anxious, to be fearful of a relapse because, God, he is. It's a struggle that he faces every single day now he's back here.

She squeezes his hand, her eyes brimming with concerned empathy, and a touch of something else. Something that threatens to fall down her face like jagged glass. 

Frankie takes a deep breath and looks at her. 

He realises in that moment just how much he needs her, how much he needs her belief in him. How much he can't lose her.

Fuck, he loves her more than anything. He just hopes that its enough.

“Jude, I… I have a son.”

To be continued...

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[bakubunny]

a/n: my inbox & dms are always open. 🖤

tw: husband!kiri, f!reader, disordered eating (no specific foods or numbers), relapse, anxiety, negative self talk

your stomach turned at his question.

“ready to make dinner, cutie?” eijiro said from the next room.

cooking dinner together was part of your routine when both of you were home.

eijiro had learned, being with you, that you liked to be meticulous with your food. most things had to be cooked or done in a certain way. there were tasks that you asked him to handle when the anxiety became too much. some days he’d let you push him out of the kitchen and do it all yourself to maintain a sense of control, and other days when you’d allow it, he did the same to you when he could see the panic in your eyes. he was okay with that because it meant he could take care of you.

you’d learned, being with him, that he was far too perceptive for his own good. he never let you treat yourself poorly if he could help it, never missed a change of habit. some days that felt like too much; he was a pro hero with enough on his plate. why couldn’t he let you handle this on your own?…

you knew why. he hated feeling helpless, especially when it came to you. but it still made you feel more like a burden than a loving partner.

“i’m not hungry. we can eat separately, if you want?” you said.

a lie.

eijiro knew there was a fifty-fifty shot if it was true. he walked into the living room where you were reading a book and sat next to you.

his eyes held concern. “babe, is everything alright?”

not really. but you were too tired to talk.

“yeah, why?” you didn’t look up from the page. maybe if -

“this is the third night in a row,” eijiro said quietly.

silence.

“i’m worried about you.”

you met his pained, crimson gaze. he did have reason to worry, at least this time.

it always started with skipping lunch when work got stressful. when your clothes didn’t fit right. when your stomach was too chubby or your thighs too big. then it was breakfast, when eijiro was asleep or already gone. then dumping last night’s dinner in the trash the next day when you said you’d eat it for lunch, opting for anything that didn’t make you panic, if you could stomach it.

when you needed a sense of something you could control, this was it. you could count numbers. you could watch them change. manipulate them until you felt some kind of relief. it was never happiness, but at least the fog of hunger made thoughts slow down. you could feel the way it affected your body, even if it didn’t feel good.

and that was all something. better than nothing.

“i’m okay, ei. really. my stomach hurts, that’s all,” you replied with a smile. which was true.

“do you need to see a doctor?” he asked. “you haven’t had breakfast in at least two weeks. don’t think i haven’t noticed just because i’m not here.”

a pang in your chest. this is why you insisted on doing the grocery shopping yourself. it took twice as long to go by yourself, but you didn’t care. it allowed you to hide. the last few weeks, you had to hand the list off to your husband. but he was thorough, always double checking.

“you know i keep food at work. and-”

his voice raised slightly. “that doesn’t mean you’re eating. you’re losing weight.”

a lump burned in your throat.

how is that a bad thing? what’s wrong with something that made me feel better? i’m too chubby anyways. it’s disgusting. i’m disgusting. why does he care?

you knew why it was wrong. had seen the effects of how habits like yours could rapidly destroy bodies. and eijiro knew that, too. but lately, that didn’t matter.

“please don’t push,” you said softly.

“no, i will push. i won’t sit here and watch you hurt the person i love. i can’t-” eijiro’s voice cracked. tears spilled down his cheeks. “i can’t do it. do you understand that?”

you fidgeted with the edge of a page as tears filled your own. “yes.”

“then will you come to the kitchen or let me make you something?” he pleaded. “we can have whatever you want. fuck our dinner plan, i’ll make you anything. i’ll let you cook if that helps, i don’t care. just… please?”

your mind wanted to argue. you don’t understand, you’d say. but it was unbearable to see eijiro like this. you set your book aside and wrapped your arms around him. he pulled you into a tight embrace as tears fell.

“i love you, eijiro,” you whispered.

he kissed the side of your head. “i love you. i love you so much. more than you could ever know.”

[seaadc]

hello!!! if you’re up for this, can i request any genshin men with a reader who feels like a horrible person because of things they’ve done in the past? i have a guilt complex lmaoooooo (i say lmao but it’s agony) (PEOPLE IN THE CROWD WITH A GUILT COMPLEX PUT YOUR HANDS UPPPP)

also this is a complete side note but i think this concept would be especially interesting with wrio since he’s always in the fortress or meropide, seeing people who have done wrong everyday in the fairly normal system (by jail standards) they have down there

guilt | wriothesley x reader

OH GOD THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY ASKS FOR A WHILE NOW IM SO SORRY MY NOTIFS ARE ALWAYS FILLED UP AND I DONT SEE ASKS ANYMOREEE T-T

angst w fluff at the end, soft!wrio, he’s comforting youu, gets a bit suggestive at the end, no pronouns used but reader is referred to as ‘my love’ and ‘princess’

it’s nothing to be concerned about really, if you were a criminal and probably rotting in the fortress of meropide for— archons knows how long, you would’ve just let your conscience be the death of you.

but you aren’t! your not sitting around and laying in the fortress of doom meropide, thank the archons.

though you can’t help but think if the seven are laughing at you, quite literally. your state isn’t so stable as it seems..

wriothesley, your partner, had called sigewinne ages ago to check on your health status. although it was all negative, the tests, the results, the examinations, all negative.

there wasn’t anything wrong with you, so why is there an aching pain in your stomach whenever your brain just relapses back to the past, the time where you had done such unforgiving sins, you couldn’t even do a whole statement word for word on what you had done to those poor victims.

one of them, someone special to you. someone special that you had lost because of your own carelessness, someone you had lost because you were being selfish, someone who you wished to cherish for a lifetime— though fate is mocking you unfortunately.

and the pain, the inkling pain deep inside that you cant ignore, it’s annoying. it’s frustrating. it’s … sad.

it’s a pity to see someone like you, a nice person who only wished to improve themselves and hope for a better future. yet it seems celestia didn’t approve.

your longtime partner, wriothesley, had been worried for you. ever since you met, you were always dozing off, not focusing, you looked uncomfortable yet he couldn’t pinpoint what was actually wrong.

it was starting to piss him off, really. the way you doze off when he talks to you, when you two spend time together and your too busy in your own little world to pay attention to him.

wriothesley had decided to sit you down, like what any partner would do when they encounter a misunderstanding or a mishap. communication is key after all.

he couldn’t ever forget the look on your face, the day where you looked at him with such pitiful eyes and regretful ones while he just stared back at you with a stern look.

he feels pity, wriothesley feels pity. someone like him shouldn’t, so what is this he feels?

“tell me what’s been bugging you for months, [name].” wriothesley takes a deep breath, then exhales as you sat there, fidgeting with your fingers. “i didnt get the chance to ask you back then, since it was your privacy after all, hm?” he spoke firmly, his voice laced with curiosity and the tone where he just wants to know the truth.

just tell him, it wouldn’t be so hard. he’s your partner after all, you have every right to tell him so. “[name], i’m doing this to help you. you’re someone extremely precious to me and i can’t help myself just seeing you look so lost.” wriothesley explains, sighing deeply as he waits for your response.

how would he react? he’s the all mighty scary wriothesley after all. he’s known to have less mercy and sympathy on others. why tell? you’ll just embarrass yourself, you thought to yourself.

but you couldn’t. you couldn’t keep a secret, especially towards him. if he was any other people, a stranger, you would’ve kept it till the end of your life. but he’s not just a stranger.

he’s your partner, your loved one, your everything. wriothesley is someone you can trust, someone you care for. is it really worth keeping a secret from him?

you took a deep breath, letting the air get past your nostrils. “i have.. committed alot of unforgettable things in the past, someone like you wouldn’t like. someone like you wouldn’t appreciate.” you confessed, looking down and avoiding your beloved’s longing stare.

wriothesley looks at you, tilting his head in confusion. you? doing things that he couldn’t possibly imagine? “ever since i’ve started to open up a new path to walk on, the guilt in my chest still pains me. it’s almost eating me whole.” you continue.

he smiles at you, not a happy smile, a faint sad smile. he’s quite joyful about how you were guilty, and not like any other person who wouldnt even feel the slightest bit of empathy to what they’ve done wrong in the past.

this is the [name] he fell inlove with. the honest, confident, firm, one. there was no denying that wriothesley was hopelessly inlove with you. and he finds it lovingly amusing.

“if you regret it, then it’s okay. you don’t have to be in debt of a thing you regret on doing. if you truly feel guilt, then it just means your improving and want to be a better person my love.” he smiles, standing up and walking over to your seat, crouching before you as you were forced to look at him.

wriothesley holds your chin, going up to caress your cheeks coated with a red flush. “it may be your fault or not, but there will always be a way to fight back the sins of the past. you can get through it, i know you can.”

“your the strong and confident lady i love after all, hm?” he says with a grin, which makes your already flustered enough face go even more red.

you smile tenderly as he continues to caress your cheek, you leaned into his touch as you hear him chuckle lowly. wriothesley stands up straight, his hand now on your head as he ruffles your soft and silky hair.

wriothesley smirks, a teasing one. which means he’s probably going to say something just to tease you and to lighten up the mood a bit. “besides, i’m the only one who’s allowed to eat you whole, princess.”

made by @seaadc and @seaadc only !!

laughinf bc i made this at exactly 1am LMFAOO (i’m mentally unstable)

[rainba]

Hihihihi!!! How would the sillies respond to a darling who's self destructive (both socially and physically, like self harm and self sabotage)? I love ur OCS btw ur writing is amazing 💘

Aww, thank youuu!! :3c

And thank you for the ask!! It's really made me think....

Huge warning for these responses, they are very… Dark. If these topics make you uncomfortable, please feel free to skip this one!

TWs/tags: self-harm, toxic behaviors from the yans.. Lots of angst (plus comfort)

For Kairos, it’d be a really unhealthy situation. He, too, engages in really self-destructive behaviors, and if his darling also does it, he’d only end up enabling you even further. In some way, Kairos would see it as “beautiful”, the two of you suffering together at your own hands... He’d be one of those people that would watch you cut yourself and then kiss your scars right after… And then he’d cut himself in the same places, just so you two can “match.”

And if you’re socially self-destructive? Pushing everybody away because you just feel like everyone secretly hates you, or for some other reason? It’s okay– all you need is Kairos, anyway! You can destroy all of your other relationships, so long as you keep Kairos close to you.

He’ll love you forever and ever, you never have to worry about him leaving you. If you push him away, he’ll keep coming back. You could be at your absolute worst, and he’d still view you as a perfect angel. It’s… Not healthy. But he can’t help it.

However– if you were to ever put yourself into any life-threatening situations, or if you genuinely wanted to die, he'd become downright terrified and would try his best to make you stop your self-destructive behaviors. After all, he loves you too much– he doesn’t want you to die. The two of you need to live long, happy lives together! If engaging in all these self-destructive things with you might lead to your death, he’ll do everything in his power to make it stop, and he'll also make sure that the both of you get better. He'll hold your hand every step of the way, recovering alongside you. And he'd never judge you for relapsing.

Basically, it's sort of like this: if you want to get worse, Kairos will also get worse. If you want to get better, Kairos will do everything in his power to help you, and he’d also try to help himself along the way. It’s almost like he’s mirroring you, in some ways.

As for Luka, he’d have a totally opposite reaction to Kairos. He would be enraged that you actively hurt yourself. He’d handle it pretty badly. If he found out that you actively harm yourself, he would refuse to take his eyes off of you and would be monitoring your every movement... You'd suddenly never get a moment to yourself.

When you’re using the bathroom, he’ll be standing next to you the whole time. When you shower, he’ll be showering with you. When you go to sleep, he'll be caging you in his arms.

If you have a job, he might actually force you to quit, just so he can monitor you even further. Either that, or he’ll make you take a temporary leave from work until he knows that you’ve stopped hurting yourself.

It’s… Absolutely not a good way to go about it, he knows this, but it’s the only thing he can think of doing. It's his gut reaction to it all.

Luka would keep asking you ‘why’ as he holds you tightly in his arms, glaring at you while also having pitiful tears in his eyes. For one of the first times in his life, he feels so deeply hurt and confused. He isn't prepared at all to handle the feelings that are bubbling within himself. Luka would also start losing lots of sleep.

When you’re sleeping peacefully in bed beside him, he’d sit up and bed and just… Stare at you for hours.

Slowly, he'd start kissing your cheeks, stroking your hair, and then holding you close as he tries not to be upset with you. He knows that you’re hurting… And he loathes how helpless he feels. While he’s not the biggest advocate for therapy, he would ask you to go see a therapist. He knows that he alone can’t help you– and that it’s impossible for him to just monitor you every second of every day.

If you refuse to see a therapist, he’ll be upset, but he won't force you to go. All he tells you is that if you need it, he’ll listen to you– even though he’s horrible at giving good advice. But at the very least, he’s really good at just listening to you. He’ll remember everything you tell him. And any time you show signs of improvement, he will be proud of you.

As for socially sabotaging yourself, it’s the same as Kairos. All you really need is Luka, so… He won’t stop you from cutting everyone else off. ^^;;

[madi-writes-things]

Nobody Pt. 6

(C.Sturniolo X Reader)

Summary:

Chris and Y/N never seemed to get along, but sometimes help comes from the most unexpected places

Word Count: 1,318

TW:MASSIVE WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER!!! (TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF, MY WRITING IS NOT WORTH YOUR HEALTH), Cursing, SH (not in detail, but it is talked about), Blood, Panic Attacks, Hurt Comfort, SUI ATTEMPT, Crying, Really Depressing, lots of POV swaps, Not Edited

A/N: Thank you for all of the support that I’ve been getting for this story, this chapter is really heavy… PROCEED WITH CAUTION. Please do not read if it will negatively impact your health, this story on tumblr is not worth it. I’ll put a brief summary at the beginning of the next chapter, for those who need to skip. This is probably the worst that it will get. Love you guys so much 🥰

-Madi <3

“”“”“”“”“”

Y/N’s POV

I woke up to Chris wrapped around my waist, just like I had for the last seven months. I don’t know how much longer I can handle this facade, but I also don’t know if I can let it go. The worst part is that I can’t even vent to my best friend, seeing as he is the cause of this whole situation. I stare down at Chris, his hair is so soft. I feel the burn of tears in my eyes, trying best to stop them from falling. Failing miserably.

My sniffles cause Chris’s to lift his head up to look at me. “What’s wrong?” I tell him it’s nothing, not a big deal. I can tell he doesn’t believe me, he sits up looking deep into my eyes. “You can tell me anything Y/N, you don’t need to feel embarrassed or anything.” I just cry harder. He pulls me into his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around me as I burrow my face into his shoulders.

we stay like that for an indeterminate amount of time. I cry until I physically can’t anymore, Chris doesn’t make me explain myself.

“”“”“”“”“”

Chris’s POV

I barely sleep anymore.

Y/N has been drifting away for months now, and it scares the shit out of me. I’m scared that if I fall asleep she’ll sneak past me and relapse. I can’t imagine what I would do if I lost her, I don’t know who I would be.

I’m scared to leave her alone, to the point that I don’t even want to leave her to go film with my brothers. The fans have commented on how many videos we’ve made at our house, rather than our usual car videos. I just tell Matt and Nick that I feel bad leaving her alone without us.

I knew it was a mistake to leave her alone tonight, but the fans were getting suspicious. We made the decision not to tell the fans, since we didn’t plan for this charade to go on for so long. I don’t know if I can end it, I’m too in love with her to imagine laying in an empty bed again.

“”“”“”“”“”

Y/N’s POV (start of the really bad stuff)

The guys left to film a car video, it’s been months since they did that. I haven’t been alone long enough to think about relapsing, but sitting alone in Chris’s room, the feeling of loneliness is crushing me.

I need to distract myself. Chris would be so disappointed in me if I didn’t, and I can’t call him while he’s recording. I’ll cook myself something for dinner, the guys will be happy to eat when they get home.

“”“”“”“”“”

Dinner came and went, and I still didn’t feel better. I was scared to call Chris, I didn’t want to bother him and his brothers. It was a mistake.

I stare down, my legs tore to shreds and the wounds on my wrists, I need help. I don’t think I really want to die, I was just overwhelmed. I can’t let them find me dead. I can’t make them hurt the same way that I have. I need to call someone.

I reach for my phone, trying desperately to open it. The blood on my hands makes everything harder, but I can’t get up to get a towel. If I stand up I’ll surely pass out. I’m already lightheaded, just hoping that Chris answers my call.

“”“”“”“”“”

Chris’s POV

I’m laughing with my brothers and I don’t notice it at first. A small buzz in my pocket. There it is again. As soon as I pull it out I panic.

LOML 🥰 CALLING… ✅ ❎

“Guys! Stop talking real quick.” I immediately press the answer button. “Baby… is everything okay?”

No response. Fuck.

“Matt we need to go home.” He gives me a worried look, but before he can say anything I’m talking into the phone again. “Baby, I need you to talk to me… tell me everything is okay.”

there’s a second before she responds, I can tell that she’s been crying based on the sniffles from her end. “I fucked up Chris.”

My heart drops.

“go faster Matt!” Fuck. “What happened, I need you to tell me what you did!” I don’t mean to yell, but I’ve never been more scared in my life.

“I don’t want to die…” No. This isn’t real. It cant be.

“You aren’t going anywhere, I promise.” I quickly turn to nick and tell him to get 911 on speed dial. “Please just keep talking to me, I need to hear your voice.”

Matt breaks multiple laws in an attempt to get home, but I don’t notice. My whole focus is on keeping Y/N talking. When we get home we all rush upstairs.

“Nick, go sit in the loft.” He looks offended when I say it. “She wouldn’t want you to see her like this, I don’t think she’d ever forgive me if I let you.” He stays where he is. “Please Nick!” My voice cracks as I say his name. He leaves with tears In his eyes.

“Matt I need you to get the first aid kit from under her bed, it should have everything I need.” With that I open the door to the bathroom.

the scene in front of me is like something straight out of a horror film. I can’t even tell where the blood is coming from. I immediately rush to her side.

“I’m so sorry… I tried to distract myself, I promise.” She’s rambling, but I don’t mind. I’m trying so hard not to cry, but she looks so pale.

“don’t apologize, I’m not mad, nobody is mad” it doesn’t stop the tears, she’s still a sobbing mess beneath me.

Matt returns with the kit, clearly distraught. “It’s okay Matt, it doesn’t look like she needs stitches.” He looks frozen in place, and his breathing is erratic. Shit. “Go sit with nick… she’s going to be okay.” After a few moments he finally pulled himself out of the doorway.

by the time I’m done cleaning her up, Y/N’s tears have dried up. “You don’t need stitches…” I stare at the deep lines that run across each wrist. “But it would make the scars smaller, do you want to go to the hospital?”

“NO!” She’s shaking her head violently. “Please don’t make me go, they’ll take me away again!” I can see the tears forming again.

“ok, we don’t have to go.” I grabs the butterfly bandages, and start pulling the skin together, before tightly wrapping it with gauze. She’s more covered in gauze wrapping than actual clothes at this point. I carry her to my room and get her changed, before taking her to the loft.

“”“”“”“”“”

Y/N’s POV

Chris changed me, being very gentle around my gauze, and then he set me down on the loft couch next to Nick and Matt. I hear him mumble something about them staying with me while he cleans up.

I can see the relief in Nicks eyes when he sees that I’m alive, Matt just locks eyes with me and leaves. I never meant to upset him, but I can’t seem to find the tears for it right now. I fall into nicks chest and he just holds me.

I tell Nick everything. The relapse. The fake dating ruse. The fact that I really do love Chris.

He just tells me that it’s okay. He promises me that he’s not mad.

Once Chris is done cleaning the bathroom floor, he takes me to lay down in his bed. He’s so gentle when he snakes his arms around me, careful not to hit my arms or legs.

“I told Nick…” he just stares into my eyes. “You don’t have to pretend to love me anymore, there’s no point in lying anymore.”

“who said I was pretending?”

“”“”“”“”“”

@unbruisable @bernardsbendystraws @sturniolo-fann

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hi, idk if you write this kind of thing but would you mind writing something with either carmy berzatto or frank castle and a recovering addict! gf?

she relapses and he's angry but he loves her so he's gentle. he doesn't know what to do.

i’m not doing so well atm and i’m really struggling to stay clean, your writing and just fics in general really help take me out of my own head.

There's Always Tomorrow.

Frank knows you better than you know yourself. It's a blessing and a curse.

Author's Note - hi sweet anon. i'm sorry to hear you're not doing so well at the moment. i lost a good friend of mine to addiction, and i know how hard it can be. just know that you're never alone - there's always someone you can talk to. you're doing amazing, and I'm wishing you all the best. you've got this.

i got this request and knew i had to write it, as it's something very close to my heart. i've tried to handle it as sensitively as possible, without going into too much explicit detail. i've included some resources at the bottom of this post such as websites and hotlines if you feel like you need some support. so much love to anyone who's struggling. i see you, and i admire you. you're always stronger than you think x

Pairing - Frank Castle x Recovering Addict Female Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - addiction. mentions of relapse. talk of sobriety and being clean. cursing. please do not read if this will be triggering to you in any way.

Word Count - 1.7k

Masterlist. Requests.

Frank knows something is wrong the minute he walks through the door.

Usually, he yells honey, I'm home! and is greeted by you jumping into his arms, covering his face in kisses.

Today, you're nowhere to be found.

He's storming through your house, yelling your name at the top of his lungs. A thousand scenarios are running through his head, all of them horrifically tragic. He's terrified.

He gets to the closed bathroom door and yells your name again.

"Sweetheart, you in there?"

You don't reply, but he hears you sniffle.

"Shit, baby, are you cryin'? Open the door. Whatever it is, I'll fix it, okay?"

"You can't," you sob. "Not this time."

Frank has never heard you this upset, and he's starting to panic.

"Open the door, honey. Please. Just open the door and we'll work somethin' out."

"You don't want me to," you cry. "You're going to hate me."

"Hate you? I could never hate you. I love you, you know that. Open the door. Please."

You sniffle again, but make no attempt to move.

"Alright. I'm about to break it down. Move back, so I can kick it in."

"Don't you dare," you threaten. "This door was expensive."

"Then open it."

You're not sure if it's his words, or the way he sounds exhausted, but you decide to give him some respite. You stand up and turn the lock, before slumping back down into your spot on the floor.

Frank takes a good look at you, and his heart shatters.

Your cheeks are tracked with mascara stained tears. You're wearing nothing but a tank top and some underwear. Your hair looks like you've been running your fingers through it repeatedly. Your lips are bitten and raw. You look tired.

"Baby," he whispers. "What happened? Are you hurt? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you lie.

"You're not fine. You're clearly not fuckin' fine. We don't lie to each other, do we?"

When you don't answer, he grabs your chin to look at him where he's standing.

"Do we?"

"No," you mutter, shaking your head. "We don't lie to each other."

"That's right," he says, moving to kneel in front of you. "Now please, honey. What happened?"

Silence. More sniffles.

"If I tell you, you're going to hate me. You're going to leave me and you're going to hate me."

"I don't think there's anythin' in the world that could make me hate you," he reassures.

Frank looks at you intently, proving you have his full attention. He cups your cheek gently, and waits for you to tell him the truth. Eventually, you speak.

"I relapsed," you whisper.

Frank's whole body goes rigid, and he freezes. He's still looking at you, but it's different now.

"Frank," you say gently. "Did you hear me?"

"I heard you."

Your blood runs cold. He sounds... distant. Detached. He sounds angry.

"Please don't hate me. I told you you'd hate me. God, I knew this would happen."

There are fresh, warm tears streaming down your face, dripping onto your shirt. Frank still remains stoic, removing his hand from your cheek.

"I don't hate you," he says eventually. "But I need you to give me a minute."

With that, he rises to his feet and leaves. You're left on the bathroom floor, sobbing and alone.

 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 

Frank sits on the edge of your bed, trying his best to take deep breaths.

Your addiction isn't a secret. You've talked about it time and time again, telling Frank all of the details that you swore to yourself you'd never tell anyone. You met him, and felt instantly safe. He's the perfect confidant - he listens, he understands. He's compassionate, he's gentle, he's empathetic. You've opened up again and again, and Frank has never judged you once. It's one of the reasons you fell so hard for him.

You've been clean since you met him. A naive part of him hoped that he'd never have to see you otherwise. He knows that sobriety is a journey, he knows that it isn't linear. But he hasn't been through it. There's only so much he really understands. He tries, though. God, he tries.

He's sitting in your shared bedroom, wondering why he left you in the bathroom by yourself. Is it because he can't bear to see you upset? Is it because he can't handle it like he thought he could?

He realises, suddenly, that it's because he simply doesn't know what to do. He's never been in this situation before, and he doesn't know which course of action to take. Does he sit and cry with you? Does he yell at you to never do it again? Does he tell you he still loves you, no matter what? He decides, unsure, to try a mix of all three.

Frank strides back into the bathroom and sees you still in the spot he left you. You're still crying, and it lodges a lump in his throat. He fights back his own tears, and sits down next to you, pulling you into his arms.

"Hey, hey. You're okay. We're okay. It's all okay."

"It's not okay, Frank," you sob. "I'm so mad."

"At me? I'm sorry, honey. I shouldn't have stormed out like that. I just panicked and -"

"No, no. At myself."

Frank soothingly strokes your hair, rocking you gently. You relax into his hold, tears subsiding slightly.

"I've worked so hard on being clean. It's a choice, every single day. Why did I choose wrong today? I've ruined everything. I've fucked up all of my hard work, all of my progress."

"You know," he begins. "There's no end goal here. It's a constant journey. And on any journey, there's gonna be ups and downs."

You try to protest, but he cuts you off.

"One bad day doesn't determine the rest of the week. Or the rest of the month. Or the year. Okay?"

You nod your head, and he kisses your temple.

"There's always tomorrow, baby. There's always tomorrow. We can start again. Today doesn't undo everything. It just changes your course a little."

"Frank Castle. A poet. Who knew?" you tease. He laughs, and the vibrations buzz through you both.

"Only for you, honey."

You both sit on the floor for what feels like hours, content to just hold each other. Frank is wondering what caused the events of the day, what made you feel like you had no other option, where you even got a hold of everything. But he doesn't ask. He knows you'll talk about it tomorrow. Instead, he wraps his arms around you tighter, and tries to match his racing heart to the beat of yours.

"Promise me that if you feel like this again, you'll tell me. I don't care where I am, or what I'm doin'. We're in this together."

"I promise," you whisper.

"There's always tomorrow, honey," he murmurs into your hair.

"There's always tomorrow," you echo.

He's right. There's always tomorrow.

Al-Anon / Ala-Teen Hotline - 800-356-9996

SAMHSA Hotline - 1-800-662-4357

DrugFree Hotline - 855-378-4373

Alcoholics Anonymous (UK) - +44-800-9177-650

DAN 24/7 (England&Wales) - +44-808-8082-234

Narcotics Anonymous (UK) - +44-300-999-1212

MIND Website (lots of useful UK resources here)

SAMHSA Website (USA)

these are just a select few. there are hundreds, if not thousands, of websites, hotlines and places to turn for support if you're struggling. asking for help might be the hardest thing you'll ever do. but it's so worth it. promise x

[sapphic-agent]

Let's Talk About Bakugou's Apology

Jfc, I swear this wasn't meant to be an MHA blog but whatever. Let's get into this.

I wanted to give Bakugou stans the benefit of the doubt. I wanted to think that they would only hype something up if it was groundbreaking. I wanted to believe that Horikoshi was a halfway decent writer and would put actual effort into such a pivotal, revered moment in the series.

I was left sorely disappointed for multiple reasons.

1) A List of Excuses To be completely fair to Bakugou, he does take some accountability which was more than I expected. He does acknowledge that what he did was wrong a few times during his little speech. I have to give him credit for that. However, it's overshadowed by the narrative making sure to stress that it was the people around Bakugou who were at fault for that behavior. Which isn't true because even before he got his quirk, he still treated Izuku like garbage. He gave him the name Deku and acted like he was above everyone way before Izuku was deemed quirkless.

(I'd also like to add that the only thing that literal pre-school teacher said was that Bakugou's quirk could make for a fine hero. He was the one who ran with it and decided that it made him better than everyone and that he would be the best)

There's also the fact that every time he does point out what he did was wrong, there's always some kind of justification behind it. "I did... because I felt..." It undermines what's supposed to be a genuine apology because it's not about Bakugou's feelings, he wasn't the one hurt (more on this later).

2) Timing

So many people have brought this up and they're absolutely right; that was the worst possible time for this to happen. Izuku was injured, starving, and dirty. Not to mention his mental state is practically in shambles. He's been isolating himself for weeks in his attempts to walk a selfless, lonely path. The absolute last thing he needed was this shitty apology.

This was supposed to be an effort for Class 1A to show Izuku that they care about him and to convince him to share his burden and come back to UA with them and rest and heal. Instead that genuine effort is highjacked by Bakugou rambling on about something entirely unrelated. He could have done this during the bath scene or even right after that. Instead, it's shoehorned into Izuku's actual friends trying their best to help him.

Iida's words should have been the final ones. They had enough impact and were way more powerful. There was no reason for Bakugou's apology to be the finishing lines.

3) The Insults

It's wild to me that Bakugou apologized for insulting Izuku... right after purposely insulting Izuku.

This is something that has been detrimental to Bakugou's entire character "redemption". "Oh, he's changing!" Except he's still doing the same shit he's always done. It undermines the entire point of redeeming him.

(I hate to be pro Endeavor in any way, but at least when he decided to change he made the genuine effort to stay that way and didn't relapse into old habits)

Not only did him mocking Izuku do absolutely nothing to change his mind, it's just so shitty to do to someone who's clearly struggling. If you are incapable of showing empathy and kindness at a time like this, shut up and sit down because there's no reason for you to open your mouth. You're not helping, you're only making things worse.

And then he says, "I don't expect this to change things between us." Like bro, that's completely on you. All you have to do is not be a dick and act like your apology actually meant something by refraining from hurling insults at someone who did nothing to deserve it. But even after this apology, he continues to yell at and insult Izuku. Sato and Tokoyami even call him out on this, only it's just played for laughs.

Word to the wise kids, an apology means nothing if just keep repeating your bad behavior.

4) No Autonomy for the Victim

Not once do we get to see what Izuku's thinking. Not once do we ever see things from his point of view.

This moment is entirely about Bakugou. It's only a plot device to develop his character and make him come off better. And Izuku who was the victim gets no attention. He doesn't even get to respond, he just faints by the end of it.

In fact, the closest thing we ever get to an insight into Izuku's feelings is All Might saying that he wouldn't hold what Bakugou did against him. That's such a copout considering a) nothing Izuku did ever indicated he felt that way and b) another person is speaking for him. He doesn't even get to say this himself.

Horikoshi does this consistently. Izuku is never allowed to voice how he feels. We never get to see how things are affecting him. The only time he's ever permitted to show strong emotions is when it's in favor of someone else. You would think that by this point in the story that would be rectified. But no, everything has to be about Bakugou. Not even in his own rescue story can Izuku ever be the center of attention. No, it's all about making Bakugou better.

(Again I hate to be pro Endeavor, but at least Shoto, Fuyumi, and Natsu get to respond to Endeavor's attempts at atonement on their own terms. Natsu is allowed to be angry. Fuyumi gets to make the choice to forgive him. Shoto is allowed to ponder the decision. Both cases are terrible abuse narratives, but at least the Todoroki kids have a say in how they feel and are allowed to express it. Izuku doesn't even get that)

It feels like Izuku isn't even allowed to be a victim in any way, shape, or form. He's just there to prop Bakugou

[ninyard]

I would love to just sit on a roof top and talk to you about anything and everything. Hear all of your opinions on everything.

Wait what the hell that’s so sweet I’m the mayor of yapsville when you get me started on something I have An Opinion on, so I promise you’d probably quickly regret it.

But picture us. Me and you on a roof. And I tell you the following, as the wind blows our hair and the sun starts to set:

- Andrew helps Renee dye her hair

- When they move in together, Andrew always finds his t-shirts or random belongings shoved under Neil’s pillow. Harmless stuff, but usually stuff that belongs to Andrew. Kept safe, untouchable below his pillow like the few belongings he had in the beginning.

- Dyslexic Kevin Day

- Allison helps Neil get his hair back into a good condition when he starts to grow it out post-TKM. She helps him do treatments and recommends the best products. She braids it when it gets long enough. She shows him how to properly tie it back, she teaches him how to properly look after the texture in his hair.

- Andrew has a folder in his camera roll for nobody else but himself of things that make him smile on the inside. Most of the time it’s stupid things, like a terrible advertisement stuck to a lamp post, or an ugly dog, or an awfully parked car. Silly things that make him laugh that he screenshots or snaps a picture of. There’s eventually hundreds of pictures in there. There’s photos of Neil, when he falls asleep on Andrew’s shoulder and Andrew’s too proud to tell him how cute he looked. Photos of Neil in his suit before a banquet, photos of him doing dishes or handing him dinner. There’s photos of Andrew and Renee after they’ve been sparring. There’s photos of things he’s seen in stores that remind him of Kevin, or Neil, or Renee. Sometimes Aaron. There’s even a few photos of Kevin in there, too. Nobody know this folder exists. Not even Neil, who doesn’t even know half of the photos of himself in there even exist. Because it’s just for Andrew. It’s just for him to collect the little joys in his life now that he can somewhat actually feel it.

- Kevin has to wear a brace on his hand/wrist every now and again, and he still sees a physiotherapist once every few months to check up on his hand.

- Matt goes to Andrew the first time he thinks about relapsing. He doesn’t even think about it. Neil is very confused when he comes back to the dorm to find Matt and Andrew playing video games together, but doesn’t question it.

- Dan tags along to night practice every now and again. Nobody acknowledges that she isn’t usually there, they just let her join them on the court and practice as usual. It makes Kevin really happy, actually, to see her trying to better her skills with them. Usually she just joins them when she can’t sleep and needs to get out of her head.

- On the OG foxes last night together before the first of them graduate, they all find themselves around a fire pit in one of their parents houses, or on property Allison rented out, and they tell each other stories and share some confessions in a mostly-funny, kind of emotional way. They cry and laugh and hug and shock each other with some of the things they say but it’s a really beautiful moment before they’re finally split up for the first time

- Dyslexic Kevin Day (again)

[neo404]

I’m not sure if you would be comfortable with writing this but I was thinking about how nick finds out his bf cuts and it’s rly sad but cute. It’s ok if ur not comfortable though

Kiss it better.

Summary: Nick find you on your bathroom after relapsing.

Tw: SH, mention of blood and a blade.

Note: I didn't wanted to make this too graphic, so it isn’t, please if this makes you feel bad in any way dont read it, be safe and take care<3

I look down at the floor, my heart aches and I cant cry anymore. I hear my phone ring for the 17th time and I feel worse, Im the worst boyfriend, Im the worst.

I hear the door of my bathroom opening up and I see someone kneeling in front of me.

"Baby... no." I cant look at him in the face, I feel weak and embarrased, Nicks voice breaks when he speaks. "Stay here, don't move."

Nick has always been careful around me, he knows me better than I do. We have grown together, and when we started dating I got better, better enough to not be a danger to myself, I still had pretty shitty days, but he was there. I don't know what happened today, I just couldnt anymore.

"Im back." He whispers, Nick sits besides me and gently grabs my arm, I shut my eyes in pain, he apologizes and starts patting a wet cotton over my wrist.

"Im sorry."

"Dont be."

"Im sorry."

Nick patched me up, he kissed my hand and on top of my bandages. I feel my eyes water again, his lips kiss below my eye catching a falling tear. Nick helps me walk to my bed, he even helps me change clothes, he makes me wear one of the shirts he leaves here 'just in case'. I sit on the bed and wait for him, I hear him move around in the bathroom, I know he is cleaning up a bit, he defenitly threw away the blade and he is probably searching for more. After a few minutes Nick comes out, he turns off the light and closes the door.

When he sits beside me I hug him tightly, he hugs me back, I bury my face on the crook of his neck and he kisses my head, both of his big arms making me feel secure.

"Im sorry." I cry again.

"Dont be. Please, dont be. It's not your fault, please dont do it again, I know your cant promise that but... please." His voice breaks and I know he is crying too, I feel terrible for making him feel this way.

"I wont, Im sorry."

"I love you. I love you. You are all I want and more, I want to help, please dont ignore me when you feel bad, im here."

"I know, im sorry."

"Say something else, i cant hear you say that again."

"So-... Can you kiss me?"

"Yes. Where? Tell me how, tell me how can I make you feel better." I move my head up, out foreheads are touching, his watery blue eyes lock with mine.

"Kiss me until I fall asleep." I whisper. Nick nods. He kisses my lips softly, so caring and gently like he was an artist and I was his greatest work. He laid me down on my bed, covered me with my blanket and laid down besides me. He kissed my lips again, so gentle and caring, lips before tongue, just like the movies, but without the acting, it was real. I wrapped one arm around him and he pulled me closer, he then started to pepper kisses on my wer cheeks, on my nose, eyebrows, jawz ears, everywhere his lips could reach.

His low whispers and kisses calms me down, my eyes close even when I fight it back, I fall asleep on his chest. He doesn't let go of me, his arms hold me together like gold holds broken porcelain, his lips comforted me like death to the hurt.

Taglist: @freshloveforthefit @shywolfapricotfan @sturnphilia @matty-bear @thenickgirl @stvrniolvsp @paige05 @soursturniolo @miloisdone1 @teenagetrash00 @lovely-calypso @h3arts4harry @malirosee

[pimosworld]

Unrequited

Pairing-Santiago Garcia x f!reader x Frankie Morales

Series Summary-Francisco was always afraid of settling down. He left Santiago to pick up the pieces after Colombia and now someone else is taking his place. Now he must cope with repairing the past without disrupting his future.

CW-18+,MDNI,Angst, Fluff, hurt/comfort, Frankie has a lot of apologies to hand out, lots of food references, fun game of poker and a revelation, more apologies and a proposition.

WC-5.9k

A/N- Happy Frankie Friday, our boy is still going through it a bit but that’s to be expected when you ghost your friends for three years. At least he has Benny for some comedic relief.

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

Chapter II Pining

  verb

gerund or present participle: pining

suffer a mental and physical decline, especially because of a broken heart.

  You stretch your sore muscles as best you can with the human weight that is Santiago pressed against you, his arm holding you close even in sleep. You knew he was getting better and that he was starting to get over it but Frankie’s sudden appearance is causing a relapse in his behavior. 

  The mornings you got out of bed before him or took too long to tell him you were running late from work would be met with his frantic state of mind. Always afraid of being abandoned again, left without a word or goodbye. You assured him as much as you could that you would never do something like that. Months of convincing him to go to counseling was met with short words and utterings of I don’t have a problem. It wasn’t until he’d awoken to you crying and scared one night that he was yelling in his sleep that you were going to leave him that he finally caved and went. 

  Therapy helped tremendously but you can’t blame him after the harsh words that were spoken last night that he thinks you couldn’t hear. Venomous words spoken between ex lovers, hurt people hurt people. 

  So you lay here a little longer, waiting for him to stir awake so he doesn’t think you left him. You rub your legs together easing the sore ache from the previous night, trying to ignore your full bladder. 

  You can feel his lips on the back of your neck, slowly making their way down leaving goosebumps in their wake.

  “Good morning baby, how’d you sleep?” He doesn’t answer with words, just hums as he grinds his hips into you. Avoiding the question that you already know the answer to. His hand slides over your stomach, dipping lower before you gently grab his wrist pulling it to your lips as you turn to face him. “As much as I would love to do that again, I really need to pee.”

  “Why didn’t you get up?” His sleepy voice cracks a little as he dips his head to kiss your neck. Your nails scratch at his scalp as you card through his salt and pepper curls. You tug on them eliciting a groan from him as he meets your eyes. You trace your thumb along the stubble of his jaw, memorizing every line and scar that you may have missed the last time you looked at him. He’s so distractingly handsome that you almost forgot he asked you a question. One that he already knows the answer to. 

  “I wanted to wait until you were awake.” You give him a wary smile almost ashamed to admit it, not wanting him to feel bad. 

  His face drops and he wraps his arms around you, rolling you on top of him until you’re almost falling out of the bed, forced to plant your feet on the cold hardwood floor. He whistles low as you pad to the bathroom, trying not to feel flustered knowing he’s checking you out. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been, he always makes you feel giddy. 

  When you exit the bathroom he’s propped up on one elbow holding the blanket up so you can join him in the warm confines of your bed. He shudders as your cold hands roam up his toned chest and wrap around his neck. 

  “You can’t be getting a uti because you’re afraid to wake me up cariño.” He half mumbles into your hair. 

  You sigh deeply. “I know…I just didn’t want you to wake up and not find me there.” 

  He kisses your forehead lingering briefly before speaking. “I know you’re worried about me with Frankie being here but I promise I’m okay.” He even thinks he sounds unsure of himself as he says it. 

  “I know you’re not okay and that’s fine, you just have to remember you’re not doing this alone.” 

  You’re an enigma, he thinks. How you manage to find the good in all situations. You’re the glass half full to his half empty. He was surviving before he met you and that was fine but he can’t go back to just surviving now that he knows what it’s like to be thriving. 

  “What did I do to deserve you?” He slides his hands up your back massaging and kneading the stress out of you. 

  “Mmmm…you’ve had your fair share of things you did to deserve being taken care of.” His stomach grumbles and you both chuckle. “Speaking of that…do you want me to make breakfast?” 

  “If I ever say no to your food I want you to shoot me.” 

  ****

  Frankie didn’t want to get out of bed, the exhaustion had fully settled in and he quickly realized how long it’s been since he actually rested. Constantly trying to stay busy to keep from actually feeling something. The conversation with Santiago had gone in the complete opposite direction he had hoped but he only had himself to blame. He didn’t expect to just waltz back into his life like nothing had happened but you being here was an unexpected surprise and most certainly changed his approach. 

  He’d never slept in the guest room so it went unnoticed at how beautiful the morning sun looked peaking through the curtains. The orange Santiago had insisted on painting one accent wall compliments it perfectly. It wasn’t until they bought this house that Frankie realized how much Santi cared about interior design. He wanted to tease him about it but opted not to when he saw how relaxed he was deciding on paint colors and furniture. 

  It’s an odd feeling washing over him as the smell of butter and cinnamon infiltrates his senses. It’s been too long since he’s awoken to the smell of anything other than stale cigarettes and last night's leftovers. He’s kicking the blankets off before he can register and rummaging through his bag for a pair of sweats. He can hear some soft singing coming from the kitchen as he makes his way down the hall. The smell is getting stronger as his stomach rumbles and Santiago comes into view, leaning back in the chair at the kitchen island as he not so subtly watches you retrieve the mystery item from the oven. 

  The man was always a perv when it came to checking him out and it seems nothing has changed. He can’t really blame him as he takes in your appearance. Another one of Santiago’s shirts adorning your frame and some of the shortest shorts he’s ever seen just barely covering your ass. 

  “Nice of you to join us.” Santi’s arms are crossed with a slight smirk at catching Frankie ogling you. 

  “Morning Francisco!” You’re beaming as you wipe your hands on a spare towel and begin to plate what he now sees to be biscuits. “I hope you’re hungry, I made cheddar honey biscuits, bacon and I’m about to start the eggs.” As if you couldn’t get any more perfect. 

  Santi gestures to the seat next to him and Frankie pulls out the chair, starting to feel a little less like a guest in his own home. 

  “How do you take your eggs?” 

  “Over medium” “Over medium” 

  If the tandem answer bothers you, you don’t show it as you expertly crack an egg into a bowl on the side of the stove and one into the pan. Santi adjusts next to him, seemingly a little flustered attempting to ignore his slip up. 

  “You don’t have to make-“ 

  “Don’t be a martyr over eggs.” Santi cuts him off before he can finish and you turn, giving him a stern look before whisking the mixture in the bowl. 

  “At least he doesn’t eat them scrambled like a child.” You mutter under your breath and Frankie tries to hide his smile behind his hands as Santi flips him off. 

  “I heard that chiquita.” He teases and you shrug as you plate up the rest of Frankie’s food. Retrieving the bacon from the warm oven and setting two hefty biscuits next to it. 

  Frankie stares at the plate, much like he did last night and he doesn’t even know where to begin. That’s a lie actually, he knows as he dives into the biscuit without another word. The buttery flaky crust with a hint of something sweet hits his senses and he can’t help the moan that escapes him. 

  He can see your shoulders moving as you laugh and he doesn’t even care with how good this is. Your food is a religious experience that only a chosen few should get to enjoy. As he glances over at Santi eating in silence a tinge of jealousy sparks in him that he gets to indulge in this all the time. You,this food,this life. For now Frankie has to live with the choices he made. 

  “Don’t be shy Frankie there’s plenty more.” You politely cover your mouth while you eat your breakfast and somehow finish cleaning the mess in a matter of minutes. 

  Frankie leans back in his chair rubbing his belly unashamed. Santi glances over noticing the way he looks so content and a slight gleam in his eye. “So does this guy do anything around here?” 

  Santi stands from his chair gathering both of their plates. “I provide other services.” He kisses you on the cheek as you playfully swat at him. “I also wash the dishes.” 

  “You own a dishwasher.” 

  “Frankie I don’t make the rules, I just do what the lady asks.” Of course Santiago doesn’t notice that this is the first time he’s used his name, not his government name or his call sign or the dreaded name he gets when people are mad at him but his chosen name. Frankie watches you both as you exchange subtle glances, some unspoken language between the two of you that he used to understand but it’s been too long. 

  Without words Santi is grabbing things from the fridge and setting them out on the counter for you as you retrieve some bowls from the cabinet. You’re filling a large pot with water as Santi returns to his seat at the island having fulfilled his duties of making piles of unfinished ingredients on the table. 

  “How much time do I have?” 

  “We don’t have to be at Wills until one so don’t rush cariño.” Santi says as Frankie gives him a quizzical look. “Barbecue…you’re going.” 

  Frankie tries to school the expression on his face into a neutral one as his stomach drops. He knew he needed to talk to all of them eventually, but he didn’t anticipate it being his second day back. He knows he can’t avoid the conversation forever and the sooner he rips the band aid the better. There’s too much weighing on his shoulders that he needs to get off so they can all live better lives. At least Frankie hopes after he talks to them that they are appreciative and see all he’s done to get back in their good graces. 

  “If I don’t make this pasta salad Benny will kill me.” He realizes after a moment that you’re speaking to him and he can’t wipe this dumb look off his face. 

  “Well if it’s anything like I’ve had already I can see why he’s obsessed.” You smile up at him as you chop some bell peppers with perfect precision. He’s not sure how you’ve not cut yourself as he looks from your eyes to the cutting board, but it’s almost reminiscent of how he feels when he’s flying; effortless.

  Frankie finally breaks your gaze as you turn around to pour the pasta in the boiling water. Santi’s eyes bore into him as he leans back in his chair with his arms crossed. Santiago was never good at subtlety, especially when it came to his outward appearance. If he had to title this one it would read if you keep flirting with her I’ll smother you with a pillow. 

  ****

  The three of you are in Santi’s Jeep on the way to Will's house. You insisted after going back and forth with Frankie to the point of awkwardness that he sit in front. You hilariously and completely ended the argument when you sat in the back and shrugged your shoulders knowing Santi would riot if he was made out to be some chauffeur with you both in the back. 

  The car smells divine…you managed to make two types of salad, some cupcakes and those cookies he can’t stop thinking about. Frankie’s recently caught wondering how Santi is still in such good shape with the way you cook. He watches the way his muscles strain against the black tee shirt as he shifts gears. The way his jeans fit his thighs just right as he-

  “Something on your mind Fish?” He’s been caught this time and it certainly won’t be the last time. 

  Frankie’s eyes meet yours in the rearview mirror. “Nothing…Just wondering how you still have a waistline when you live with Julia Child.” 

  You laugh and bite down on your lip to stop it from bubbling over in full blown hysterics. Frankie looks away but you don’t miss the way he smiles as his tongue pokes out from between his teeth. 

  Frankie stares out the window, something blooming in his stomach at the way he made you laugh again. It’s infectious and at this point he doesn’t even care…he knows full well that if he looks to his left he’ll see the second chapter of Santi’s death glare titled keep it up and I’ll crash this car. 

  ****

  It’s not a far drive to Will's house, but there was no way they were walking in the Florida heat with all this food in tow. Frankie swallows hard as Santi makes the last turn down their street. He has seen this house many times, it still sits beautifully at the end of the block nestled among two live oak trees in the front yard. The most unique house on the block and the largest backyard. He helped Benny and Will look for it so they could all be close to each other. The plan fell into place just before they left for Colombia. They closed on the house one month before leaving and for that Frankie is relieved to see all was not lost in that jungle. 

  He rubs his clammy hands along his jeans as Santi parks the car in the long driveway. He waits for a moment as you both exit the car to gather the supplies. He wants to get in the driver's seat and head home or maybe just get out and walk straight to the airport. Anything to avoid the possible rejection he faces when he walks into Wills backyard to see his best friends brothers again.

  The passenger side door is opened for him and you’re standing there expectantly with your hand out. “He said you might need some help.” 

  It feels childish and yet he needs it all the same as he takes your hand in his and steps out of the Jeep. It’s so small in his as you lace your fingers and pull him to the front door instead of the side gate to spare him a brief moment to gather his thoughts. He lets you lead as he tries not to step on your feet that need a few more strides than him as you approach the large wooden door. 

  The house is pristine and cozy on the inside as you enter. Santiago’s in the open concept kitchen putting away all the goods you made as Frankie looks around for anyone else. You squeeze his hand once before letting go to join him in the kitchen. 

  “Ben already took the pasta salad so that’s as good as gone.” Santiago says as he cracks open a beer and hands it to Frankie. Anything to take the edge off. 

  “I’m gonna go find Emma babe.” You kiss Santi on the cheek as you exit the kitchen leaving the two men alone. 

  Frankie’s eyes go wide as you shriek from the patio and Santi laughs. “Put me down Ben!” 

  Bennys voice is carried away with the sound of the music over the outside speakers. “Not a chance sweetheart.” 

  Santi nods to Frankie as he takes a huge swig of his beer. “Let’s head outside before she kills him.” 

  ****

  “Nice to finally meet you Frankie.” Will’s wife Emma is just as he pictured. Tall brunette with perfect hair and an even more perfect smile. She’s been kind enough to show him around the house and the yard as a means of distraction from the not so warm welcome he got from Will. 

  “It’s nice to meet you too.” He sounds like a kid that just got scolded for stealing as he removes his hat and scrubs his fingers through his hair. Emma’s showing him the room Benny is in. He spent what little money he had to open his own gym so they’re graciously letting him stay to save some money. Frankie feels particularly guilty about that right now but soon that will change. 

  “The office will hopefully be a nursery soon.” She turns to him offering a genuine smile. “Then we’ll have a live-in babysitter.” 

  “I’m hoping you don’t mean Benny.” Frankie chides as she throws her head back and laughs. 

  “He’s not all that bad and he could do with some practice.” Emma motions with her hands as she finishes the tour and Frankie feels like he’s having some sort of out of body experience. Walking through the home that he helped pick out so that Will could start a family. Everyone was doing exactly what they set out to do and Frankie was just…idling. 

  “Frankie?” She’s staring at him now, nearly eye to eye with him as she places her hand gently on his elbow so as not to startle him. He supposed she’s used to dealing with spooked vets by now. It’s almost like approaching a caged animal. “He’ll come around…I know he loves you, he just needs some time.” 

  Frankie’s too embarrassed to ask if she means Santi or Will so he just nods and says ‘thank you’. 

  ****

  Frankie’s on his second helping of pasta salad as he sits at a table with the guys and some of Benny's friends from the gym listening to Santi drone on about his security consulting business. Of course Santiago found a way to travel around telling other people how to do their job. 

  Frankie looks up from his plate to see Will staring daggers at him. He’s a coward to look away but he’s not ready to face that scrutiny. It’s not much better as his line of vision drifts to you and Emma laying out by the pool talking and laughing. The sun is beating down on his neck as a bead of sweat trickles down his spine. You roll to your front on the lounger and untie the strings of your top. The white bikini already left little to the imagination and now he can just barely see the soft curve of your breast as you adjust to get comfortable. 

  “They’re perfect aren’t they. ” Frankie nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of Ben’s voice in his ear. 

  “What?!” 

  “Emma and Will…I saw her giving you a tour earlier.” Ben winks at him as he steals a bite from Frankie’s plate. Frankie starts to speak but Ben cuts him off and leans in closer. “I know everyone has already given you enough shit so I’m not going to. I just hope you’re here to stay.” 

  “I am.” Frankie says it a little louder than he intended and he can feel Will and Santi’s eyes on him. The mindless chatter amongst the table has continued but the four of them are waiting on a limb as Frankie realizes this is the first time he’s actually said it. “I’m making plans to stay.” 

  Santi raises his eyebrows in surprise as Will finally speaks. “You gonna find a flying gig?” 

  Frankie doesn’t really need to work but he supposes he’ll go crazy if he doesn’t find something to occupy his mind. “I don’t know yet but I’ve got some money saved until I figure it out.” He takes a sip of his beer to disguise the little white lie. 

  Ben slaps him on the back and he splutters his beer. “You can come help me at the gym.” Ben’s shadow boxing him as he tries to clear his throat. “Let’s see if this old man can still spar with the great Benjamin Miller.” His friends at the table roll their eyes along with the rest at his large ego. 

  Frankie points the butt of his empty bottle at the younger man. “Ben, I can still kick your ass.” 

  “Is that so?” 

  Frankie nods slowly. 

  “I don’t think he can climb a flight of fucking stairs.” Will's voice cuts in and the table goes silent. There’s a slight smirk on his face as Benny erupts in laughter next to him. Santi drops his head to the table as the rest of the men join in and for a fleeting moment it all feels like it used to. 

  ****

  The parties died down a bit and it’s just the guys left while you and Emma say your goodbyes. The boys are staying for poker and that will give Frankie the perfect opportunity to talk to them. He’s not sure how much longer he could hold it in. 

  “Are you sure you’ll be fine walking home?” You approach Santi and the guys around the kitchen island.

  “They’ll both survive.” Will answers for him as he finishes the dishes in the sink. 

  “Cariño please don’t wait up for me this time.” Santi says through gritted teeth as he pulls you into a hug, kissing you on the cheek. Ben steps up behind him making mock kissing gestures and Will grabs him by the collar dragging him off to the garage. 

  Frankie awkwardly starts to walk away and leave you two alone when you call out to him. 

  “Francisco Morales…make sure he doesn’t gamble all his money away.” It’s said in jest as you gather your things to leave. 

  “I’ll do my best, hermosa but I make no promises.” 

  Frankie’s sure you don’t notice the slip up as you wave them goodbye and exit the front door. Heat creeps up his neck and he doesn’t even want to look Santi in the eyes. 

  “Hermosa hmmm?” Santi nods his head toward the garage door and steps beside him. “I see you still get flustered when beautiful people use your full name.” 

  Frankie follows closely behind as he breathes out through his nose. 

  This was going to be a very long night. 

  ****

  They’ve got him all wrong. 

  What started out as a fun game of poker quickly became a tense game of figuring out what Frankie’s play was. They’ve wrongly mistaken his nervous face for a poker face and everyone keeps folding. 

  Just spit it out 

  Frankie’s sitting here in Will's converted three car garage. Half of it was a shop to work on his motorcycle and whatever project his mind needed to keep him occupied. The other half is almost an exact replica of their favorite bar, all the way down to the teak wood flooring and an old school saloon type dresser with a roll top bar in front. He’s been trying to admire all the work he’s put in. The pool table and matching poker table just add to the charm. 

  You’re stalling

  “Fish, what’s your move?” Santiago’s voice is dripping with annoyance as Will stares down his cards like they’re going to change suits right in front of him. 

  He stares down at his hand and the pile of chips in front of him. He actually has a good hand this time, three of a kind and pocket aces. 

  It’s not about the money

  “All in.” He pushes his chips in the middle while Santi and Will quickly follow suit. Benny scoffs from behind the bar as he pours himself another beer having lost all his chips ages ago. 

  “You losers are gonna fall for it again?” 

  “Who are you calling a loser?” Will chides the younger man as Santi laughs behind his cards. 

  “I can read this pendejo like a book…he doesn’t have shit.” Santi says the last part playfully but the first part used to ring true. 

  Frankie lays down his cards and Will curses under his breath and throws his face down. Bennys laughing to himself over in the corner but Santiago’s grin is deepening by the second. It takes more muscles to frown, which is why he thinks Santi has such strong features. When he smiles though…it almost knocks him off his feet. 

  A trickle of sweat runs down Frankie’s back as Will raises an eyebrow at Santi. He leans back in his chair crossing his arms. “Let’s see ‘em Pope.” 

  Money,Money,Money

  Ten,Jack,Queen,King,Ace. Each flick of his wrist and the sound of the cards on the table as Santiago draws out his torture echo in the room. He leans in dramatically, dragging all the chips to sit in front of him. The sound of Benny whooping behind him and Will’s slow clap is drowned out by the ringing in his ears as he stares at the Royal Flush in the suit of hearts. Okay karma,you made your point. 

  “I went back for the money.” 

  He knew there was no right way to drop this kind of bomb on them. Judging by the silence in the room, perhaps there was a wrong way. 

  It’s so quiet you can hear the rustling of the chips settled in front of Santi falling by the wayside. 

Will locks eyes with Frankie as he leans back in his chair. The weight of what he just said hits him like a ton of bricks.

  “So we’re rich.” Ben’s voice cuts through the silence as he pours himself another drink. 

  “Ben, are you kidding me!” Will goes to stand as Santi lays a gentle hand on him urging him backwards. 

  As crass as it may sound coming out of the younger man’s mouth he couldn’t hide from it anymore. “Ya Ben, we’re rich.” 

  “Why?” Santi sounds calmer than he would’ve imagined after being silent for so long. He expected a fight from him, yelling and cursing. Frankie’s brain is doing somersaults trying to keep up with his emotions. Did he want Santi to yell? To tell him he was wrong for putting his life in danger. 

  Maybe there’s some weird fucked of part of Frankie that wants to be treated like a martyr so he can justify all the shit he’s put them through these last few years. Or maybe it’s just hard for him to realize that Santi was capable of changing for the right person. 

  “I did it for you…for us.” Frankie corrects although he’s not sure why. He could be nothing but honest in front of the men he risked his life for.

  Santi huffs a laugh as he shifts in his seat to look at Frankie. He picks up a stray chip rolling it on top of his fingers, some nervous tick he picked up during their army days. “You sure you didn’t do it for you.” There he is. 

  “What the fucks that suppposed to mean.” Frankie bites out ready for a fight. The fight he’s wanted since he landed here, back home. 

  “You’re gonna tell me that you didn’t go on some suicide mission without telling us…” He takes a moment to calm his breathing and lower his voice. “You did this so you could come back with something. To show us that you didn’t just leave everything for no reason. That you didn’t walk away from the best thing in your life because you got scared.” He tosses the chip and it lands in front of Frankie as Ben whistles low under his breath. 

  Santiago always had a way with words. He could rally the team when they were feeling down or nervous about a mission. He could convince higher ups to do things for him and make it seem like it was their idea to begin with. He could charm the pants off anyone he laid his sights to for one night or wax poetic to the love of his life. 

  He could also make his words cut like a knife. Those same words could make any bullet Frankie’s ever taken feel like a bee sting in comparison. If Frankie wanted him to see that he’s changed he was going to half to meet him more than half way. He’s wounded and hurt, absolutely incapable of seeing anything besides what he’s been through the last three years. 

  “You’re right.” Foreign words leave his lips not often spoken to the man with the ego the size of Texas. Frankie scrubs his jaw, kneading his fingers in that spot of patchy beard. “You’re right Santiago, I didn’t want to come back empty handed with nothing to show for myself. I felt like a failure after Colombia.” 

  “We all did.” Will cuts in as he slaps his hand down on the table. Loose chips falling to the floor. 

  Frankie lets out a long sigh. “I know man…I don’t mean.” Frankie underestimated how much damage he had done. Not just to Santi but to everyone. “I’m sorry. This was the only way I knew how to apologize, even if it comes off wrong I don’t regret one second of it. We all deserve this money and you know that.” He points at Will before continuing. “You can be mad at me all you want, I'm not running this time. I’m gonna stay and fix this even if it takes me the rest of my life.” 

  Santi stands abruptly, saluting Ben and squeezing Will's shoulder as he exits the garage. 

  Will slides the small notepad for scratch paper towards him, scribbling down some numbers. He clicks the pen and tosses the notepad to Frankie as he stands from the poker table. “I suppose this is my fault.” 

  Frankie tilts his head in question. 

  “I gave those coordinates to Pope.” He clicks his tongue as he rests his hands on the table next to him, eyes drawing up in mischief. “But he told me he lost them.” 

  Frankie stares down at a long list of numbers. “What’s this?”

  “My banking info.” Will looks at him then a little more tired behind the eyes than he’s ever seen. “I love you Fish, he loves you too.” Will slaps him on the back and exits the garage leaving Frankie with the younger Miller. 

  Frankie doesn’t turn around but he can picture Ben behind him. “Goodnight Ben, my favorite and only brother in the world. I love you soooo much.” He’s definitely miming with his hands. “Goodnight Will, even though you’re a pain in my ass I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

  Frankie laughs a little bit. It's short lived as a cold piece of ice hits the back of his neck running down his shirt right into the open crack of his jeans. 

  “What the fuck Ben!” Frankie turns in his seat to see him crunching on some ice. He narrowly misses another piece thrown at his head. 

  “I want my money by tomorrow.” He does his worst impression of a mobster as he leaves Frankie alone in the garage. 

  ****

  Santi sits on the curb in front of Will’s house as he hangs his head in his hands. Thankfully for him it’s a decently cool night compared to the awful humidity he’s usually subjected too. He often wonders why they all settled here instead of somewhere off the grid. It’s comforting in a sense, it feels like home. 

  It’s tearing him up inside holding onto all this anger for Frankie when he really just wants to tell him he loves him. He thought he would feel better after getting it all out, finally laying down his cards so to speak. It brewed somewhere underneath for all those years and as cathartic as it was to say it out loud it didn’t change what happened. 

  Now he’s left seemingly with everything he could possibly want and he feels numb. 

  Santi hears the front door close softly behind him as Frankie makes his way down the path. He doesn’t want to argue anymore, he just wants to let this all go and finally live a peaceful life with enough money to make sure he’ll never have to sweat again. 

  “I don’t want to fight with you anymore.” He looks up to Frankie holding out his hand to help him off the curb. “Please forgive me.” His soft brown eyes look down at him. The ones he could never resist even if he tried. 

  He accepts his hand as he hoists him off the ground dusting off his jeans. “I forgave you a long time ago Fish.I had to for my own sanctity.” 

  If it’s a misstep he doesn’t correct himself. Sanity or sanctity aside, he knows hating someone for that long will eat you alive. “I would not be capable of loving her the way that I do, if I had not forgiven you.” 

  “Do you still love me?” Frankie asks, as selfish as it may be. Not entirely sure of what answer he’s expecting. 

  He’s backlit by the street lamps creating a soft halo around his brown and graying curls. Santiago has pictured them doing this walk so many times in his dreams. Moving here to start a life with him, walking home after a long day of hanging out with their brothers to head home and curl up in the soft sheets of the master bedroom. 

  “I never stopped loving you.” Frankie takes his hand then and he doesn’t pull away. “I never could even if I tried.” 

  Santi’s trying not to get choked up as he stares at their hands. Frankie grips his chin tilting it up towards him but he abruptly pulls away. 

  “I thought you said-“

  “I know what I said. I love you.” He gestures between them. “But this…can’t happen without her.” 

  Frankie’s nostrils flare as he gives him an aporetic look. 

  “Don’t give me that shit Frankie, I see the way you look at her.” 

  “Looking isn’t illegal.” His possessiveness over someone that doesn’t belong to him comes out harsher than he intended. 

  “No you’re right it’s not, but you can’t have your cake and eat it too.” Santi spits back at him as he glances over at the house that’s no longer Will’s. “Let’s keep moving.” 

  Santi gets two steps ahead before Frankie yanks his arm back bringing him face to face. Daring him to call his bluff. 

  “Isn’t that what you’re telling me…that I can have my cake and eat it too.” His body’s pressed against his, they’re so close he can breathe his air as he practically spits fire. 

  “Yes Francisco, that’s what I’m telling you.” He gently prys Frankie’s hand from his arm putting some space between them. “But I’m not doing it behind her back.” 

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[dotster001]

Oooooo can we get a masc verison of the "what kind of girls do the nrc students like?" question? 👀👀👀

What Guy They Like

Summary: Masc! reader. What kind of guy they say they want versus the one they end up with

CW: Masc! Reader, some of the boys are assholes with their answers, it's explained away in the who they end up with section, so take it with a grain of salt, also these are just my opinions. If you don't agree that's ok! Also, if you read the Fem version some of this is different but some of it is the same. Sorry if you were hoping your fave would have a different opinion.

A/n: putting the tag list in here as well in case some of you are masc. If you're Fem or gn! My bad guys! I've done the guys and gals, should I do the gn! Version for our nonbinary/questioning/gender neutral pals? Let me know!

Female Reader Version gn! Version

Heartslaybul 

Ace Trappola

What he says

"Six pack, muscles for days, a nice pair of man titties for me to bury my face in, and an ass you can't resist the urge to smack. Kidding! Why are you giving me that look? Sevens, fine! Okay he's kind and has an ass that- hey don't throw stuff at me!"

Who he ends up with

Ace is going to be naturally attracted to a guy that holds him accountable. His biggest complaint about the men in NRC is when they don't shape up, or act like big kids. He wants someone he can have fun with, but who will also give him the cold hard facts. But he also takes care of him when he's down. He's hiding a lot of insecurity under his cool guy exterior, so if he lets him snuggle, and lets him whine, and then whispers how much he loves him, he'll be a happy man. And if he knows nothing about basketball…. he'll feel super cool showing off on the court.

Deuce Spade

What he says

"Huh, I've never really thought about it. Um, I guess he's nice and funny, and isn't scared of my past. I'd also want him to be a little like you, Y/N….not that I like you! Well, I like you, not like like you, shit I'm sorry! This isn't sounding any better…"

Who he ends up with

He really means it when he says he wants someone like you. You're one of his first friends, and, in his mind, the person you date/marry should be your best friend. But if it's not you he ends up with, he will probably be attracted to a guy who's book smart, but less street smart. A little "dumb" like him, in a cute kind of way. He likes a cuddler, and maybe a guy who is shorter than him so that he can feel like he's swallowing him whole when he wraps his arms around him. Also, someone who encourages him and helps him with his homework/paperwork. 

Riddle Rosehearts

What he says

"I don't have time for a relationship right now….but I think I want someone well behaved who follows the rules- what are you smirking at? Just because you're a rule breaker doesn't mean every guy is. And maybe someone like Trey, minus his sadistic rule breaker side-stop smirking at me!"

Who he ends up with

As much as he hates to admit it…he's attracted to rule breakers. Not as bad as Ace obviously, he's not trying to go gray early. But if he says something like "let's have a non herbal tea" when it's time for only herbal tea…damn what a rush. By the time he gets serious with someone, he'll be confident enough in himself to cut ties with his mother, so he has to be strong willed, and willing to live off of a low budget for a while.  He'll need someone understanding, who knows he'll have relapses and be too much and too angry sometimes, and he has to be understanding of that, and encouraging of improvement, or he'll live with guilt for the rest of his life. 

Trey Clover

What he says

"Someone who's willing to settle down and grow fat and old with me. You're laughing, but I'm going to be running my parents bakery, and feeding people is my love language. Speaking of, you better finish off that slice of cake before the others steal it."

Who he ends up with

Trey isn't that picky. He really means it when he says he wants someone to get old and fat with. That's his dream. Running a bakery with his husband by his side, and growing old together as your own kids grow up and bring home their own spouses. But he also wants a guy he can blindside with his sadistic side. Someone who'll enjoy that side of him, but also someone who easily forgets it's there. It makes things more fun for him.

Cater Diamond

What he says

"Ha ha someone trendy and totes hot. Someone totally cammable. Aw, are you jealous? Don't worry, you'll always be my fave mans, even if you're not the man I love."

Who he ends up with

Cater wants someone who won't disappear when he looks away. Yes, if he's "cammable" that's the first thing he's looking for, but when all is said and done, if he seems like he's going to be flaky, he won't take it too seriously either, as a defense mechanism. He needs a guy with mental endurance, because he's going to spend the beginning of the relationship trying to scare him off. Not that he wants to, he just needs to know he won't be left alone like he usually is. He is going to be attracted to a guy who humors his trends and magicam addiction, but who also sees through him. Someone balanced.  He sees the real Cay Cay, but he's also willing to be his "trophy man" online.

Savannaclaw

Jack Howl

What he says

"Oh, I uh, well someone who can keep up on a run with me I guess…"

Who he ends up with

Jack says he wants someone who can work out with him. And he would really be happy if he had a guy who was as active as him…but he'd also be happy with a soft guy. He gets blushy thinking about holding someone soft and plush against his firm muscles. But he's flexible. In the end he won't choose his future husband based on appearances. Wolf beastmen mate for life, so the main thing he is looking for is loyalty. Loyalty, and someone who would want to raise lots of kids with him. As long as you have those two traits, nothing else really matters to him.

Ruggie Bucchi

What he says

"Boyfriends are expensive, shihihi. Tell you what, you find me a man with sticky fingers, and we'll eat the rich together."

Who he ends up with

This is a deflection. Ruggie desperately wants a man he can provide for. He wants to go to work, and come home to his handsome husband, who will praise him for his efforts and hand feed him donuts. That's his dream. A sweet loving househusband. But he understands that may not necessarily be attainable, so he'll accept the sweet and loving part, even if his future man has to work for a while. He also is looking for someone to snuggle the night away with. He gets lonely at night.

Leona Kingscholar

What he says

"Body pillow"

"That's not-"

"Body pillow"

Who he ends up with

He's going to be attracted to a soft guy who let's him take charge. He's a fucking lion, Y/N. King of the fucking jungle. He's the boss! But if this soft guy makes him feel loved, and first, in the softest of ways…you'll never hear him complain. He'll never complain if his husband feels the urge to run his fingers through his hair, and softly tell him everything he loves about him. A soft, romantic man. It's everything he could ever dream of…

Also, he has to accept that nighttime is when he's a body pillow. That's an absolute must.

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto

What he says

"Why do you wish to know? Are you attempting to reach my standards? Ha ha, let's see. A man who is mysterious, who is willing to dress stunningly, and sit in my lap when I make deals, so that competitors can see what a high value man I am."

Who he ends up with

If that didn't make you want to throw up 🤢. He'll be attracted to someone who makes him feel beautiful in subtle ways. He knows how easy it is to spin a verbal web of lies. But there's some things you can't fake. Like allowing someone to rest on your lap, and caressing their hair. Or squeezing someone's hand gently when you have to let go. Or pressing a kiss to someone's cheek after you help them straighten their outfit. It's the soft romantic moments that'll speak to Azul when he finds his love. Aside from that, he's not looking for anything in particular. Just someone who makes him feel loved and beautiful.

Jade Leech

What he says

"Fu fu who's to say? Perhaps you are the man of my dreams. Or not."

Who he ends up with

He's a man who can see through him. He's someone who never compares him or confuses him for his twin. He's smart. Very smart. He eats his mushrooms and goes on hikes with him. He is patient with Floyd. What Jade is looking for….is Jade. Someone like that is the only one who can truly keep up with him.

Floyd Leech

What he says

"Aw Shrimpy! Are you worried? Don't worry, whoever he is, I'll still squeeze ya!"

Who he ends up with

He's looking for someone fun. That's his only criteria. At least that's what he says. He can't be sure if he loves him because he's fun, or if he's fun because he loves him. In that sense, it's sort of a soulmate situation for Floyd. Whatever will be will be. He'll just know. 

…

…

…

Also he has to be squeezable. 

Scarabia

Kalim al Asim

What he says

"I love everybody!"

"But-"

"Have some of this ice cream, it's amazing!"

Who he ends up with

He wants someone he can spoil, but he doesn't know that. It's something in his subconscious. He doesn't want things back either. So he has to be someone who is okay with being spoiled, and doesn't feel guilty about it. He's going to be attracted to someone who loves life like him, but also helps to keep him grounded. And if he has a spark of danger in him, oh man, he'll be simping so hard. 

Jamil Viper

What he says

"I'm not going to even think about it until my freedom is assured. Kalim has promised, but it would be irresponsible to force someone into servitude with me."

Who he ends up with

As much as he hates to admit it…he's going to be attracted to a guy like Kalim. Not nearly as naive and ditzy as Kalim, but someone who's loud and enjoys life and wants to take risks from time to time. Someone who sees how hard Jamil works, and offers to help, even if the help isn't actually helpful. Someone who'll massage his shoulders at the end of the day and tell him how much they love love LOVE him. Jamil can see himself traveling the world and settling down with a man like that. 

Pomefiore

Epel Felmier

What he says

"Um, a himbo. A dumb jock who is beautiful and strong but dumb as rocks so I'm the one in charge. Don't laugh, I like the idea of being surrounded in a hug of muscles! Stop laughing!"

Who he ends up with

Epel really does attract the less intelligent type. Not that they're dumb, they just lack book smarts. But his man will still know he is just as manly as him, and they will workout together to help him reach his goals. He'll never question Epel's masculinity, and understands he wears the pants in the relationship. And if he wants to be a trophy househusband that's just as well for Epel. He'd love to provide for his man.

Rook Hunt

What he says

"Monsieur trickster, I can find beauty in every man."

Who he ends up with

What he says is actually true. He can and will fall in love with every kind of man. It's hard to say who he will tie himself to, in the end. It'll be someone who he heavily bonds with and imprints on. It's a lot like with Floyd. Essentially a soulmate situation.

Vil Schoenheit

What he says

"Hm. Why do you want to know, potato? I suppose he's professional, and beautiful, and cares about his image enough that he doesn't cause a scandal."

Who he ends up with

The thing about Vil is, he's not that far off from Rook in his take on beauty. He doesn't so much believe in conventional beauty, or societal beauty standards. He knows everyone has an individual definition of health and beauty. When he says he's looking for a beautiful man, he's looking for someone who's willing to reach his full potential. Or, more accurately, to allow him to help him reach his full potential. Vil never admits it, but he adores pampering and styling people. His love language is helping people look their best. So if he's someone who knows himself enough to know what style he likes, he'll appreciate it, and take up the mantle of doing the hard work, ie making outfits, styling hair and makeup, formulating skin care etc. He also wants someone confident in their masculinity. He can't stand toxic fragile masculinity. It's not his job to make his husband feel like a man. TLDR, he wants a confident self possessed man he can dress like a doll, and show off.

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud

What he says

"-------------" mutes ipad.

In his head, he doesn't think any man would ever love him. But his dream man is a sexy anime cat boy.

Who he ends up with

What he'll be attracted to is someone who is patient, speaks at a reasonable volume, and is assertive enough to make him leave his room. Essentially, winning Idia's heart is a siege. You'll have to starve him out. That's the patience bit. The reasonable volume comes from him being easily scared by loud noises. Assertive enough to make him leave his room…well that speaks for itself. He wants to believe he can be part of the outside world, and the guy he will fall for will be willing to show it to him.

Diasomnia

Sebek Zigvolt

What he says

"He is someone of noble bearing, who shall help me defend my liege!"

Who he ends up with

He'll fall for a man who is stronger, mentally, physically, etc., than him. A man who can put him in his place. A man who speaks, and it makes him shut up, and sit pretty. He's assertive, and can come off as abrasive to others but to Sebek? Sevens, he'd die for a smidgen of his affection.

Silver

What he says

"I don't think it's worth it to try and define the guy I'll fall in love with. There are so many wonderful men, and my father always told me that love is the greatest mystery in this world. Who's to say who I'll fall in love with?"

Who he ends up with

Silver will fall for someone soft. The entire romance will be soft. Soft caresses in the moonlight. Soft kisses in the morning. Soft fingers gently intertwining.  He'll be empathetic about his sleep condition, never blaming him since it's not his fault. He'll be gentle with his animal friends. But he'll also be strong in some ways. He'll be someone who will fight the metaphorical (or literal, Silver lives an interesting life) dragon for his sleeping Prince Silver. He'll be sweet and kind. I'm picturing Prince Philip, for Silver's masculine lover. How ironic.

Lilia Vanrouge

What he says

"Fu Fu Fu wouldn't you like to know."

Who he ends up with

Lilia can and has fallen for every kind of man. He's lived a long time. He's had the time to romance lots of men.  What he'd probably fall for in this stage of his life, is someone he can tease, and play around with, but who is also ready to settle down a little bit. Someone who enjoys the little things in life. He's getting a little old. He wants to build onto his family that he already has. Silver can stand to have three or ten more siblings, right?

Malleus Draconia

What he says

"You."

Who he ends up with

You.

....

Tag list-@shytastemakerthing @stygianoir @leonia0 @lleoll @eccedentesiast-sapphic

[vodika-vibes]

Hi, I’ve been having a really difficult time as of lately. My depression has been hitting really hard which is feeding into my low self esteem then goes to my eating disorder. I’ve almost completely lost my appetite, and haven’t been getting much sleep either. I honestly feel so close to relapsing back into S/H. I’m sorry for dumping all this on you, but I was wondering if you could please write something to help?

Echo is my favorite member of The Bad Batch, and if you could, could you write something where Echo’s S/O (gender neutral please) is going through what I’m feeling, and Echo comforts and helps them the best he can? Could you also write it to have a happy ending please? I know I’m asking for a lot, so I understand if you don’t feel comfortable writing this, but it would be greatly appreciated if you do.

You're Worth It

Summary: When your depression hits you hard, Echo takes care of you.

Pairing: TBB Echo x GN!Reader

Word Count: 861

Warnings: Reader is very depressed

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I'm sorry that things are so hard for you right now. I hope this little story offers you some comfort. Just please know, there's no shame in reaching out for help if you need it. And know that I truly believe that the world is a better place with you in it.

Echo’s worried about you.

You’ve been...not ignoring him. Not quite. But you have turned down the last three dates that he’s asked you one.

So he worries.

You can hear it in his voice when he calls, and while you feel guilty about it, it’s a distant kind of guilt. Like it’s happening to someone else.

It’s been ages since your depression has hit you this hard. To where you can barely look at yourself in the mirror. To where you have no appetite.

It’s not healthy, or safe. You know this. You know that you need to eat.

But you’re just not hungry.

At least you’ve managed to pull yourself out of bed. Of course, all you’ve managed to do is move across the room to settle in the alcove in your bedroom. You lean your head against the warm window, looking out the window but not seeing anything on the other side.

There are so many things that you should do.

Laundry that’s piled up. The bedsheets need to be replaced with a clean pair. Not to mention the regular cleaning that you need to catch up on to keep your home habitable.

But you have no strength or, honestly, the will to do any of it.

You pull your head away from the window as you hear your bedroom door creak open and heavy, but familiar, steps on the wooden floor of your bedroom.

“Found you,” Echo’s voice is light, and you turn to look at him as he settles on the cushion near your feet. His gaze is dark as he scans your face, and then he clicks his tongue lightly, before he reaches out and cups your cheek with his warm hand, “Having a rough time, cyare?”

You grimace, “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong.” He rubs soothing circles against your cheek, and you release a quiet sigh as you lean into his touch, your eyes sliding shut.

Echo shifts so that he’s sitting properly in the alcove and gently eases you into his arms.

Your Echo isn’t a gentle man, generally.

Oh, he’d never hurt you, never ever. But he tends to make his touch firm, like he’s trying to remind himself that he’s there and that you’re not going to slip through his fingers like smoke.

But today. Today he’s gentle.

So gentle, as if he is handling already broken glass.

The thought makes you want to cry, so you press your forehead against his shoulder and squeeze your eyes shut.

His hand runs down your spine soothingly, “It’s going to be okay.” He says quietly.

Your hands curl into the material of his shirt, “You can’t know that.” You counter.

“I do know that,” He counters as he presses a light kiss to the top of your head, “I know that because you have me, and I’ll make everything better.”

“I don’t think it works that way.” You mumble.

“Maybe not, but I am going to help you through it. That’s what partners are for.”

You sigh softly and rub your forehead against the soft material of his before you pull back and flash him the weakest smile, “I don’t deserve you.”

“That’s not accurate.” Echo says easily, “You deserve everything and then some.” He brushes his thumb across your lips, “This is just your brain lying to you.” Echo’s smile is soft, “I will always choose you. No matter what.”

“You’re going to make me cry.” You mumble as you reach out to press your hands against his cheeks.

Echo chuckles, “Sorry, sorry.” He presses his hand over yours, his smile soft and warm. “I know everything is hard right now, but how do you feel about sitting outside with me?”

You twist your lips at the thought.

“We don’t have to do anything,” He murmurs, “Just sit outside together.”

You consider his words for a long moment, and then you nod slowly, “Yeah,” You finally reply, “I think I can do that.” You pause, “I should probably shower-”

“Only if you want.” Echo reassures.

You stare at him for a moment, “You really are the best, you know that.”

“I try,” He says with a grin. Echo brings your hand to his lips and presses a light kiss against the pads of your fingers, “If I made you something light to eat, will you try and eat it for me?”

“I’m really not hungry.” You admit.

“I know, cyare. It’ll be something really small, really light. Just to get something in your stomach.” Echo offers, “And if you can’t eat it, then I will.”

You sigh one more time, and then nod. “Okay.”

“Thank you.”

You know Echo loves you. Even when you’re feeling your lowest, you’ve never doubted how he feels about you. And even now, when you can barely look at yourself, you know that he still adores you.

And while things are rough right now, and you care barely see the light at the end of the tunnel, you’re not worried about losing yourself. Because Echo will be right there to guide you back home.

That’s what it means to love someone, after all.

[dreemurr-skelememer]

Do you think Nightmare had built up an idea of Dream up in his head before he came back? a symbol of his trauma, the one who should’ve helped him, who was loved and adored when he wasn’t - sometimes he’s a worry that Nightmare deserved what was happening to him, because there must’ve been a reason why he was put down when his brother wasnt

His emotions lead him to focus solely on what Dream represents to him, not what he was actually like

And eventually, he becomes a relic. He feels a blend of love, pity and contempt for him, yet all are mellowing with time. He’s nothing more than a vague idea of a brother in his mind now.

So when Dream comes back, nothing he does feels entirely rught

oh absolutely. both of them are a representation of every kind of misinterpretation and miscommunication to me

the perfect interpretation of this that i can compare them to is the sisters from mlp:fim, absolutely nothing comes close in the way you write them. that's them

when you're blinded by anger and various other emotions to tolerate the abuse you go through, you look for an outlet. whether that be escapism, or looking for someone to blame. the blame could be on yourself, your actual abuser/s, or somebody who seems to have it better than you. and in that way, if you don't communicate nor know fully the person you're blaming, you create a version of them in your mind that works for you because it helps you cope.

He’s nothing more than a vague idea of a brother in his mind now. So when Dream comes back, nothing he does feels entirely right

i LOVE the way you write this, because you get it imagine having all that buffering time to heal and to process and to basically almost forget, only to suddenly be thrown back to a time you never wanted to revisit, especially by the person you'd convinced yourself to blame

why isn't dream acting the way nightmare thought he was? or maybe nightmare is still so deluded, that he just sees dream coming back and says "there he is again. he's going to ruin it all again."

you took so much time to get away from it, but trauma is trauma. and trauma hits hard. even if you've healed a good amount of time, if you haven't actually done anything about it, once confronted with it again, it'll seriously throw you back. it's absolutely no wonder nightmare would relapse and react the way he would once he sees dream again

because no matter what you do to ignore your issues, that's not solving them. that's just avoiding them. especially if it's something you should have never avoided. time can't heal all wounds when you're using time as a picture frame to avoid the gaping hole in your wall