#and need cuddles and hugs and kisses | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-rarest-sexiest-coinkydink · 1 year

Note

Hey :) i was the anon who asked if you're taking requests. This is a bit specific, so if you don't feel like writing this, that's totally fine. It's fun ghoul (in case you write for him, otherwise frank) x fem!reader (if that's okay). Reader has a few bigger scars on her face (from fighting some dracs or just general assholes) and is feeling pretty insecure about it. One day some people are making fun of her for it and her friend and crush Fun/Frank overhears and gets angry for her sake. She later asks him why he defended her so much, and he confesses he likes her?

You can probably guess who i am now, but I'll stay on anon anyway 😅 as I said, if you don't feel comfortable writing this, i totally get it. But I thought asking isn't hurting anyone.

Have a great week!

The World is Ugly (Frank Iero x reader)

Summary: Frank's best friend has had some pretty rough shit thrown at her by the universe recently, so he's delighted to see her out and about again. But when something happens that infuriates him completely, he's left with no choice but to reveal a secret he's been keeping for years...

Word count: 3689

Warnings: discussion of traumatic injury and facial scarring, people being assholes and making asshole-y comments

(y/n) pronouns: she/her

AN: I really, really hope that I did this justice for you, sweet anon. While I don't have facial scars, I understand very well what it's like to have something about your body change very suddenly, and the struggle to adapt to that. I understand the pain, and the distress, and the wishes for things to go back to normal. But I promise you, you are still the person you were before. You are loved, and you are wonderful, and you are important.

Things do get better. It can take time, and it's very rarely a smooth process, but better is possible.

I believe in you <3

The mirrors in her apartment were still covered.

With some of them, it was easy to invent an excuse. Oh, the one propped up against the wall with a button up thrown over the top half? Yeah, that’s just some laundry that I haven’t found the time to put away, and at least when it’s there I can’t trip over it. The little mirror on the desk covered by a tote bag? Well, it kept reflecting the sun in my eyes while I was working so it was just easier to do that. But others, it was harder to explain away. The bathroom mirror, certainly, was a tricky one to come up with something logical for.

Realistically, everyone that visited knew exactly why they were hidden, just as much as (y/n) did. But nobody would even think about mentioning it. It was too soon, and she clearly needed time to acclimatise. Big changes had happened, and obviously she was still very firmly in the middle of the adjustment period. It was understandable, really.

A traumatising incident that left significant facial scarring would be horrendous for anyone to deal with.

She knew that, in time, she would have to accept the changes that had happened. The doctors had said that even once things had healed up fully, there would most likely still be some permanent marks. They had suggested some different things to try, types of creams and oils that could help make the lines less noticeable. But they had also been very clear - it was highly unlikely that her face would ever be quite the same again. Those scars would always be there in some capacity.

Right now, thinking about that was far too much to bear. Which is why for now, for the forseeable future, the mirrors would remain shrouded.

It was far more challenging to keep away from other people. Over the first couple of weeks, (y/n) had relied on her family and friends to shop and bring food home to her, simply unable to face the thought of going outside where strangers would be able to see. But cooping herself up inside was driving her insane. She missed the warmth of sunlight on her skin, the sensation of light rain dampening her hair. She missed the sound of dogs playing in the local park when she walked to the bookshop, and the shitty music that filled every store. She missed the smell of the bakery a few streets away, and the smile she always got from the pretty girl at the flower shop next door. She missed human existence.

And so, staring at the empty carton of milk in her hand and the sparse leftovers in the fridge, she decided that she was going to go back to it. It would be difficult, obviously, but if she stuck to her old routines, she was sure she could manage.

It was either this, or spend the rest of her life as a hermit. And she knew which idea she preferred.

Thankfully, it was cool enough outside that (y/n) definitely needed a hoodie - the wind was disturbing the branches of the tree in the little shared garden of the apartment block, and the weather forecast promised rain later. Neither of those things were of vital importance to her; what mattered more was the fact that she would have an easy way to hide her face if needed.

Going outside for the first time felt a little like being freed from prison. Her incarceration had been self inflicted, but the relief at liberation was a feeling any prisoner would understand. The feeling of the breeze against the new contours of her face, still very sensitive a week after the stitches had been removed, was bizarre. It felt like a cool finger was mapping them out: the one that crossed the bridge of her nose, the large one spanning her cheek, the places where scar tissue met hairline and lip and eyelid. Had she looked at her reflection, she would likely have been pleasantly surprised; none of the scars were as thick as they felt, and they already appeared to be healing fairly smoothly. Scars often feel far worse than they look, and getting used to the idea of their presence is half the battle. But of course, she wasn’t ready for that just yet. Healing takes time, of course. And baby steps were better than no steps at all.

Her first stop was the bakery; bravery deserved a reward, and just getting past the foyer of the apartment building had taken a huge amount of guts, let alone getting this far. The teenager behind the counter had beamed when she went in, already reaching for her regular shopping.

“Hey, it’s been far too long! I almost thought you’d been stolen away by that place down the road. Still going for the same stuff?”

The fact that they hadn’t even commented on her face, simply looking pleased to see her, almost made her tear up. “Yeah, the usual is good with me. Throw a couple of those doughnuts in as well though, please. It’s been... a rough couple of weeks.”

As they took her money and handed over the bag, their smile softened. “Those doughnuts are on the house today. We, uh... we heard what happened. And we’ve all missed seeing our favourite customer, so... it’s nice to have you back.”

Just about managing to croak out a ‘thanks’ before saying goodbye, promising to be back in again soon, she left. The tears that threatened to fall were happy ones. To have someone treat her just like an ordinary person was all she had wanted. Things were off to a far better start than she’d imagined.

The next place she wanted to go was the coffee shop - because making her own was just far too much effort, quite honestly, but the number of people in there made her pause for a moment. There’d only been one other customer in the bakery, and he’d spent the entire time engrossed in a YouTube video while eating his way through a bag of mini cheese pastries. The cafe, in comparison, was pretty much packed.

A familiar grinning face appeared in her line of sight, and the sound of Frank’s voice snapped her out of her little reverie.

“Hey, if it isn’t my favourite person in the whole wide world! Good seeing you, sweet cheeks. You doing okay?”

She nodded, pulling a slight face and desperately trying to ignore the way that her heart rate had picked up at the sight of him. “Yeah, I’m... alright, I think. I was just...”

Having known (y/n) since the two of them were eight years old, Frank understood every one of her little expressions. Every thought and concern in her mind was clear to him. He held out a hand, smiling softly when she tucked herself against his side. He stroked her waist the way he always had done when one of them was feeling down, both of them comforted by the gentle repetitive motions. No matter the situation, being in each other’s presence was often enough to settle their emotions and bring a little clarity to their thoughts.

“How about I pay for the coffee this time? I’m pretty sure I owe you a few cups anyway, after the last few trips out, so why don’t I get you this one?”

“That would be nice, yeah...” The hesitation in her voice was blatantly obvious, and he squeezed her just a little tighter.

“Hey, it’s just you and me. Coffee. We’ll get it to go, and then go sit in the park and stare at all the cute dogs for a while. Sound good?”

She didn’t even need to look at him to know he was doing those infamous puppy-dog eyes again; it was a look he’d developed decades ago, and it worked on pretty much everyone. No matter who he used them on or what he wanted, whenever he broke them out things were basically guaranteed to go his way. He dropped his bottom lip for added effect, and she felt her heart do a somersault. She was just as under his spell as everyone else was. Well, probably more so.

“Oh, go on then. Only because you’re paying.”

Grinning, he grabbed her by the hand and led her inside, joining the end of the rather long queue as he filled her in on what had been going on with the band since they’d last seen each other. Frank had been one of the people to bring stuff round to her flat in the days after she’d come home from the hospital, but they hadn’t had a proper conversation during that time. She’d been so worried about what he’d think of the way she looked now that she hadn’t wanted him to see, hadn’t wanted to give him the chance to say something. But so far, he was treating her exactly like he had always done. If she had more time to think into that fact, it would probably upset her all over again: she was desperately hoping for the day that he turned around and told her that he needed more, that he loved her too much to just be her friend. For now, though, normal was enough. Normal was what she needed.

In between Frank’s rambles on what the band’s latest project was shaping up to be and the bursts of noise from the coffee machine, soft whispers were starting to worm their way into her ears. At first, she desperately hoped she was imagining it, but no - people were definitely talking about her.

A little boy was tugging on his dad’s sleeve. “Daddy, what’s wrong with that lady’s face?”

On the next table over, a grandmother was shushing a set of twins. "It's rude to stare, no matter what people look like. Now keep your voices down."

But far worse than innocent childish curiosity were the reactions from the older customers in the shop. Grown adults were sneaking sideways glances at her before turning back to their friends, making almost silent comments and hiding sneers behind their fingers. Some were openly staring, mouths agape and eyes wide.

Feeling the new tension in her shoulders, Frank squeezed her hand, leaning in to murmur against the side of her head. "You doing okay?"

"I... people are saying things. I can tell."

"I know, sweet cheeks. Please don't pay attention to it - I know that's really hard, but we won't be in here much longer. Look, there's only one more person in front of us. Then we can go hang out with the puppies. And those puppies will give you all the love you deserve, okay?"

Managing a nod, (y/n) relaxed a little as they reached the counter, concentrating on the way her best friend's eyes sparkled when he smiled and thanked the barista. She often thought that she could look at him forever - that those eyes, that face, would look perfectly at home in a work of classical art. He was just flawless.

The technique of focusing on the tiniest details of his features worked. She kept her mind occupied with his miniscule freckles, ridiculously pretty eyelashes, the way his hair curled slightly around his ears. He filled her brain entirely, chasing all the negatives away.

Until they turned to leave.

Half way through the queue was a group of teenage boys - and they were staring at her in sheer disgust. Noticing this, Frank shifted so that he would be walking closest to them, doing the best he could to shield her from view. But of course, that couldn't stop them talking.

"Ew, gross."

"What's wrong with the Joker over there?"

"If I looked like that, I wouldn't ever let other people see me."

"Damn, I hope she stays away from kids. That shit's scary."

Very calmly, Frank stopped and handed (y/n) his coffee. "Would you hang onto this for a second, cupcake? I'm about to have my hands full." And as she took it from him, he grabbed the tallest of the group by the collar and dragged him down to look him in the eyes. "You dare speak about her that way one more time - you even THINK something like that about her - and I'll make your face look more fucked up than it already is. You all wanna talk about ugly, go take a look in a mirror. And if you don't like the idea of no longer having your balls attached to you, you'll apologise. Right this instant."

Recognising the man who was threatening them, all four boys blanched, huddling together and barely stuttering out something vaguely like an apology. Arms folded across his chest, Frank was ready to tear them to shreds, but (y/n)'s hand against his upper back made his temper settle marginally. He turned back, and the sight of her trembling very nearly made him launch at the boys again. But the rational part of his mind took over, making it very clear that the best thing to do was just get out of there. And so with one final glare at the offending morons, he led her out to the street.

"Do you wanna go to the park, or do you want me to take you home?"

Taking a deep, faltering breath, she sniffled. "Home. Please."

"Your wish is my command, sweet cheeks. Come on. Let's go."

The walk back to her place was short, but they spent it in silence. He desperately wanted to say something to her, but knew that now just wasn't the right time. Over the years, he'd learned that quiet was the best thing for her until she decided to speak. Pushing conversation too far only ever made the situation even worse.

(y/n) was mute until the two of them were comfortably situated in her living room, sat at opposite ends of the tiny sofa as they sipped at their coffees.

"Thank you for being there."

"Hey, I'm always gonna be there for you. Every time. You could be stuck at the top of Mount Everest and I'd still make it up there to kick some ass if you needed me to."

She snorted, setting her drink down. "You hate the cold."

"That wasn't my point, and you know it." He rolled his eyes, kicking at her feet. "Those kids were total assholes. Half of me wants to go back there and kick their asses all the way into the next century."

"I'm glad you didn't actually do anything, I don't want you getting arrested for me. I’m not worth that much effort.”

“You absolutely are. To me, you always have been. And you always will be. You're the most important person to me in the whole world.”

His expression shifted a little, and (y/n) could read him like a book. The prevailing thought in his mind was panic. Clearly, he hadn’t intended to say that in quite that way. And that just made her want to dig a little deeper.

“Frank... what are you saying?”

“I just- well, I care about you, obviously. You’re my best friend, of course you’re worth it.”

“No, that’s not it. I can tell.”

“I swear, it’s-”

“Please. Just tell me. I... I need you to be honest with me, okay? I can't keep worrying about the way everyone sees me now. I can't keep worrying that you don't see me the same.”

He seemed to flounder for a moment before coming to the realisation that this time, he wasn’t going to get away with some flimsy excuse. She was far too clever for that. It had to be everything, raw and unfiltered and straight from the soul. “I’m saying that I love you. More than I could ever possibly describe. You came into my life scrawling smiley faces and animals on my arms in permanent marker, and you wrote yourself into my heart at the same time. I’ve never had eyes for anyone else - it was always an act. Every time someone asked, I’d choose a person at random so nobody would find out it was you. I couldn’t face the thought of losing you if you found out how I really felt. Hell, half my tattoos are based on something I remember about you, something you drew or said or made me laugh about. You are just... everything. Perfection. The sweetest soul this hellhole of a society has ever seen. I'm pretty sure I've loved you forever. That I was born to love you.”

She could feel the tears catching at the patches of new skin on her face, but couldn’t find it in herself to care about the bizarre sensation. This was what she’d been waiting to hear since she was thirteen. “How... how long has it been? Really, how long?”

“Um... well, thinking about it... since we were, like, ten. Maybe even before that, but that's probably when I started to notice it.”

“And you...” She trailed off for a second, trying to think of how best to phrase things. “Even now that I look like this?”

Frank practically threw himself across the couch and hugged her as tightly as he possibly could, burying his face into her shoulder as he let all of his thoughts out. “You’ve always been beautiful to me. Always. Even when you let your mom cut your hair when you were nine and the bangs were all wonky. Even that time you tried to dye your hair without any help and it went that weird shade of green. Oh, and the time you accidentally shaved off a whole eyebrow so you had to get rid of both, and you could never draw them both the same. Every art class where you ended up with multicolour freckles, and never remembered to wash them off before coming to lunch. Those hideous fake glasses you wore for a year because you were convinced they looked cool. I’ve seen you in every state imaginable, and I’ve never stopped loving you. I've seen you delirious with the flu, unable to walk because you were so hung over, greasy and tangled after not showering for a week. There are so many brilliant, unique things about you. And even if they aren't always things you like, they're still special. These scars are just another special part of you that we can both get to know.”

Scoffing a little, (y/n) extricated herself from his grip and shuffled back, arms folded over her chest. “They’re not special, they’re awful.”

Understanding that she needed a little space, he settled for resting a hand on her arm. “Hey. You’re allowed to hate them, you know? It’s totally okay that you do. I just really need you to know that I don’t. I could never hate any part of you, and that includes them.”

“But I’m not the same.” Her voice cracked a little, and she sniffled, determined not to break down. “I don’t... feel like I’m me any more.”

“I get that. It’s a big change, and it’s one that’s gonna take time to get used to. But I promise, it doesn’t make a difference to the person that you are inside. And it doesn’t make a difference in the way I feel about you.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because a life without you is not one I’m interested in living. Every second I’m without you, it feels like my soul is waiting for the rest of it to come back. You are everything to me.”

He sounded so confident in his words, the honesty practically seeping from his pores, and she knew him well enough to know that he was telling the truth. He really did mean every word he’d said. And that was enough to start the flow of tears again. She didn’t resist as he took her back into his arms, kissing softly across her hairline as she melted against him.

“I’m sorry. I- that was a lot. If you don’t feel, you know, quite the same way I do, then that’s-”

Frank found himself unable to speak mid-sentence; (y/n)’s lips were locked against his own, and all he could do was kiss her back. They were both a little breathless when they broke apart, and she jabbed a warning finger into his chest.

“Don’t you dare apologise. I’ve thought about kissing you, probably since I was twelve. Every date I ever went on, I wished it was you. I spent so many nights laying there in the dark wishing I was brave enough to say something, so I wouldn’t have to watch you with other people any more. I don’t think it’d be possible for me to ever love someone else as much as I love you.”

Those last three words left them both in silence for a moment, overwhelmed by the enormity of what they’d both just confessed. And then, (y/n) started to giggle. He eyed her curiously.

“What’s so funny?”

“Well,” she shrugged, looking a little sheepish. “I just... that’s not exactly how I imagined our first kiss to go, that’s all.”

He snorted, stroking gently at the spot where the largest of her scars disappeared into her hair. “Yeah, I don’t think I pictured it like that either. It-it was good though, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m definitely not complaining.”

“I mean, we could always... do it again? Just so, you know, we’re sure we’re doing it properly.”

The little glint in his eyes made her heart flip, and she nuzzled against him. “Sounds good to me.”

“Good. Because now it’s happened once, I plan on kissing you for the rest of your life. I’ve imagined doing it for so long, there’s no way I’m letting you slip through my fingers again. I hope you’re okay with that, sweet cheeks.”

As his lips brushed against hers, feather light and tasting of sheer desperation, she just about managed to answer before he took her breath away completely. “I’m sure I can cope with that.”

37 notes · View notes