#and i just wanted to keep my earplugs in and cry and stay in bed all day

[bunnihearted]

goddess the body feels sooo good after a workout 🫠

[sinkingteethinwhitenoise]

Limoncello - Chapter 12

Pairings: Nick Folio x OFC, Bad Omens x OFC

Warnings: Talk of injuries, tears, fluff

Word Count: 1.6k

Series Masterlist

A/N: Hello! Thank you so much for reading Limoncello! This is the last chapter and it means so much to me that you've stuck through this whole thing! If you enjoyed this story, keep an eye out for an announcement coming soon.

“I want to find your smile in the epilogue.” - Ghost Atlas, Tomato Red

For two weeks after the attack, Nick and Maeve were inseparable. Thankfully, Maeve was able to get someone out to fix her window the day after it had been shattered. Nick stayed by her side the entire day as it was repaired. She didn’t speak much that day, exhausted and shocked from the events the night before. Throughout the day, they occasionally talked to the window repair team as needed. When they weren’t doing that, Nick was watching Maeve as she tried to figure out the most efficient way to cover the large bruise spanning across her neck. She tried for hours to cover it with makeup, Nick around for support and encouragement. She ended up crying in Nick’s arms when she couldn’t cover it fully with makeup. Nick held her as she sobbed into his chest, rubbing her back and kissing her head. When she stopped crying, she was able to find a white linen scarf buried deep in her closet that she ended up wearing around her neck for a week until the bruise faded. 

They slept at Maeve’s house that night. No funny business. They just talked about anything that would distract her from the soreness of the knot on her head and the bruise on her neck; anything to distract from thinking about the previous day’s events. They spent every night together, switching between her house and his house with the guys depending on when the band had practice. When they did have practice, Maeve sat in the garage, perched pretty on a stool with earplugs in, watching and listening, with her delicate linen scarf tied loosely around her neck. 

By the second week, the bruise on her neck had faded into nothing and the knot on her head was no longer. It was a celebratory occasion in Maeve’s eyes when she didn’t have to put the scarf on. She walked out of the bathroom after getting ready for the day to see Nick sitting on the bed, on his phone, waiting patiently for her. “Hey,” she said softly, holding back a smile. 

“Hey,” he chirped, looking up from his phone. “No scarf today?” he asked, an eyebrow raised as he smiled at her. 

She allowed herself to smile. “No scarf!” She beamed. She strode over to him and plopped down onto his lap. “The bruise is, like, gone.” 

He instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist and his small smile turned into his signature, goofy grin. “I think that calls for a celebration, don’t you?”

“You read my mind,” she giggled. She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. She laughed a bit when she pulled back and noticed the shiny, slightly glittery, pink tint from her lip gloss had transferred onto his lips.

“Let me take you to breakfast,” Nick murmured, pecking her lips again. 

And that’s what they did. They had a date every day that week, even on the days when the band had practice. He made the time. By the end of that second week, he’d fallen even more for Maeve than he thought possible. He was happy. He wanted to hold onto that happiness for as long as possible.

“I’m gonna ask her if we can make it official,” Nick said to Noah as he watched Maeve tend to her flower beds through the kitchen window. 

Noah chuckled, “You aren’t already?”

Nick glanced over at Noah and shrugged. “I mean, no? Not technically,” he sighed. “I just- I want to be with her. She makes me really happy. I hope I do that for her too.” 

Noah clapped Nick on the back. “Folio, if you’re worried she’s gonna say no, I don't think you have anything to worry about.” 

“I hope you’re right,” Nick stared out the window once more. 

“I know I’m right,” Noah said, following Nick’s gaze. “How are you gonna ask her?”

Nick shrugged once more. “I’m not sure,” he hummed. “I just know it has to be special, though. She deserves that.” 

“If you need help coming up with something, I’ll call a band meeting,” Noah suggested. “We’d be happy to help. I mean, we’ve been routing for you two since you two shook hands when she came over to introduce herself.” 

Nick furrowed his eyebrows and glanced over at him, “Really?”

“Yup,” Noah nodded. “Love at first sight if I’ve ever seen it.”

Nick suppressed a smile as he looked back out the window. “Right, okay.” 

“Dude you’ve literally got heart eyes watching her pull fuckin’ weeds,” Noah laughed and rolled his eyes. “Want me to call that meeting?”

“Yeah,” Nick murmured. “Please do.” 

A plan was in place after a quick band meeting. Nick wanted to carry it out as soon as he possibly could. He couldn’t wait. Immediately after the meeting he got ready and left to go run some errands, while the guys kept an eye on Maeve. It took Nick until the late afternoon to get back with everything he needed. Nicholas walked outside after hearing his truck pull in. 

“Need help with anything?” He asked, walking over to Nick as he stepped out of the truck. 

“Yeah, just grab some bags and help me take them to the backyard,” Nick said. “Where is everyone?”

“Jolly and Noah are learning how to make limoncello across the street,” Nicholas chuckled.

“Perfect,” He breathed. 

They unloaded the truck pretty quickly and got to work decorating the backyard. When they got done it looked like something straight out of a disney movie. There were soft, glowy fairy lights on every surface they could put them on. There were flower petals scattered all over the patio floor. A beautiful bouquet of sunflowers and greenery wrapped in brown paper sat on the patio table.

“Yo, what’s this?” Nicholas questioned, picking up a small, dark green, velvet jewelry box. “You’re not fuckin’ proposing already, are you?”

Nick turned to him with wide eyes. “Oh, no way dude,” he said quickly. “It’s a necklace.”

Nicholas let out a sigh of relief as he opened it. It was a thin gold chain with a dainty letter ‘F’ hanging from it. “F for Folio?” he asked, glancing up again. 

“F for Folio,” Nick repeated in confirmation. “I’ve heard that some girls dig wearing their guy’s initials. Let’s hope I got that right.” He let out a shaky sigh. 

Nicholas set the box down next to the bouquet where it had previously been. “Hey man,” he clapped his shoulder. “You’ve got this.”

“Thanks,” he sighed. 

Jolly and Noah were helping Maeve clean up the kitchen when Jolly’s phone pinged. He dried his hands to check it and then cleared his throat. “Maeve,” he said looking up from his phone. “Folio’s home if you wanna go see him.”

She set down the cutting board that she had been washing and quickly dried her hands. “Let’s go, then. These can wait,” she motioned to the dishes in the sink. She quickly made her way to the front door, Noah and Jolly close behind. When they were all outside, she locked the door and they all went across the street. Maeve was the first one inside. She hadn’t seen Nick all day, and to say she was excited to see him was an understatement. 

“Hey,” Nicholas greeted from the couch upon seeing her. “Folio’s in the backyard.” 

“Thanks!” She chirped before walking to the back door. 

She opened the back door and stepped outside. Her eyes widened and her jaw went slack when she processed the scene around her. Her eyes finally landed on Nick, holding the bouquet of sunflowers. “What’s all this?” she asked, her voice quiet and awe stricken. 

He walked up to her and handed her the flowers. “These are for you.” 

She took them from him and smiled. “They’re beautiful,” she whispered. “But really, what’s all this for?”

He reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Her breath hitched as she stared at him. “Ask away.”

He took a deep breath, looking into her eyes. “Can I be your boyfriend?”

Maeve’s smile grew to the point where her cheeks started to hurt and her eyes crinkled. “Um, absolutely,” she giggled, it was nearly a squeal. She threw her arms around his neck, still holding the flowers, and pressed her lips to his. 

Nick couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. In fact, he kept breaking the kiss because he couldn’t stop smiling. The kiss was slow, sweet, joyful, and so loving. 

“I have one more thing for you,” Nick grinned when they finally pulled away from each other. He reached into his back pocket, pulled out the green box, and flipped it open to show her. 

Maeve felt her eyes well up with tears. “Nick, that’s beautiful,” she whispered. She looked up at him, “F for Folio?”

He nodded, that huge goofy grin adorning his face. “Yeah, doll. Do you like it?”

“I love it,” she sniffled. “Will you put it on me?”

He chuckled, “Of course, baby.” He lifted the necklace out of the box and set the box to the side. He walked behind her and moved her hair to the side so that he could put the necklace on her. Once he fastened the clasp, he stepped back in front of her. “Wow,” he whispered. “That sits perfectly.” 

Maeve set the flowers down and wrapped her arms around Nick, hugging him tightly. “This is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” she sniffled into his chest. “Thank you.” 

Nick hugged her tightly, as if she would disappear if he didn’t keep hold of her. “You’re worth it,” he murmured into her hair. And he meant it. She was so fucking worth it. 

[skayafair]

I need to confess how much I love g3 Twyla <333 In G1 I liked Lagoona the most, but G3 Twyla is so relatable. She's sweet and quiet but has inner strength, loves books, her struggles are familiar, and she's autistic. And her design is just the best, with my favourite colours, too! She's my comfort character now.

I think Twyla would love space. And long sleeves. RH Emi Vanda's clothes fits her surprisingly well!

I made her a quick temporary apron dress before an actual good one (because I hate tight skirts and don't want to damage her shorts by the sitting position). Also I think out of all my dolls she and Amelia (Emi) are the ones I restyle the most because they are so much fun!

She's my favourite now and took her place at the head of my bed to keep my dreams interesting <3

I also figured out that with the right hairstyle her earplugs stay firmly in place and was happy about it! I'd leave them there at all times if I could 'cause the room is often noisy 😅 but if her hair is down they won't stay there unfortunately.

Since Neon Frights come without a bracelet I'll try to make it myself.

Also Twyla is the first doll which made me understand why people buy different releases of the same character. I love this one, I truly do, but after I watched Twyla's clips from the series and her music videos (Out of the Shadows, it made me cry because of how relatable it was!) I can't help wanting the creepover one, too! They are so different and I like both so much :< If I ever have the chance, I think I'll get her, too.

[ratralsis]

I keep looking for Tina. She slept under the recliner in my living room a lot, especially in the warmer months, and it was her favorite spot for the last month or so. So when I'd roll up my exercise mat after my morning workouts, or when I'd go to do my physical therapy exericses in the evening, she'd often come out from under the recliner and see me. In the morning, it was because she wanted food. In the evenings, it was because she wanted me to pet her.

When I worked out this morning, I kept looking to the recliner, even checking under it once, to see if she was there. She won't ever be there again.

At lunch, I packed her remaining thyroid medication into my backpack and walked to her regular vet, which is only a ten-minute walk from my house. The technician who greeted me said she was sorry for my loss.

"Heard about that, huh?" I asked.

"Lap of Love always calls us," she explained.

"Well," I said, and I placed my backpack on the floor in front of the desk. I retrieved four bottles of pills. Two were completely full, with 60 pills each of 5.0mg and 2.5mg of Felimazole, and the other two were partially empty. "Tina doesn't need these anymore."

"These are to be donated?" she asked me.

"Or disposed of," I said. I wanted to act casually, but I could hear in my voice that I was starting to choke up and cry again. "I don't care either way. But seeing them on my counter this morning damn near broke me. Max doesn't need them, and if he ever does, I'll buy more."

She told me again that she was so sorry for my loss, and told me to have a nice day as I turned to leave.

"Thank you," I said. "You, too."

Max looked for her, too, under the recliner. He sniffed the carpet around where she usually slept, paused, then walked away. It's a day-old smell of a cat whose smells are all at least a day old, now.

The box were Tina liked to stand when I played with Max is still there. Only Tina ever used that box. Max never did. Never does. Should I get rid of it? I suppose I should, eventually.

I slept for six uninterrupted hours last night, from around 10:30 PM until 4:30 AM, when Max woke me by laying down under my arm like he very rarely does. He doesn't like sharing the bed with Tina, you see. But he doesn't have to now. Now he finally has me all to himself, and he's taking advantage of that fact today.

It was the longest amount of time I've ever slept in one go in this house, since I moved here in March of 2018 with the two cats. Study after study has shown that co-sleeping, either with pets or even a spouse, is terrible for your sleep. If all you want is better quality sleep, you're better off sleeping in separate beds and separate rooms.

But I'd trade every good night of sleep I'll ever get from here on out if it meant Tina could have stayed healthy forever and kept waking me up by clawing my face, demanding I pet her at 1:30 AM or that I roll off of my side and onto my back so she could curl up under my arm again. I can't say I ever got used to her doing that, but I did at least stop reacting by trying to hit her or grab her.

Let me be clear: she really did claw my face while I slept. She did it slowly and carefully, too. She'd lift up one front paw and gently scrape her claws on my forehead, or on my nose, or, once, she reached under my chin and scraped upward. That one surprised me.

She'd claw my legs when I sat at my computer trying to work, too. She wanted to be pet, or brushed, so she'd claw me. Sometimes she'd just sit and do nothing, trusting that I'd eventually pet her or brush her anyway. I could always tell when she came into the room, because she'd be licking her lips from having just eaten something or she'd sneeze or cough or otherwise make a disgusting old woman sound. She also walked loudly, so, even with earplugs in, I could usually hear her enter the room at night when I was in bed. She weighed 6 pounds or less for the last three years of her life, but she stomped her feet when she walked. She had an incredibly loud walk. I don't know if it was deliberate. I imagine not.

She was a terrible cat. She always smelled bad. It's one of the reasons I brushed and pet her so much. She stopped cleaning herself regularly years ago, when her joints started to ache. But I kept her clean enough that I really only smelled her if I brought her within an inch of my nose, and, really, at that point, it's my fault and not hers.

She had health problems for most of her life, starting with ear infections when she was only a few years old that left her with permanently sensitive ears. She had very large ears. They itched a lot, but if I scratched them, she'd always shake her head vigorously. In her last couple of years, she'd shake her head so hard that she'd lose her balance.

She'd drool, sometimes, when she slept. She'd lay her head down on me and when she got up there'd be a wet spot there. That, thankfully, stopped as she got older.

She would run and hide from me when I wanted to play or pet her, and only emerge again when she wanted to be pet. It made those moments when I could pet her or old her, or when she climbed onto the bed to sleep next to me, feel that much more special.

Before I even had a bed, back when I slept on a futon in an apartment with just me and her, she'd still walk back and forth over my body at night at least once or twice, purring like a gas-powered lawnmower. She had a horrible purr. It was this loud, wheezing noise, unlike any other cat I've known. I wondered for a long time if she was unhealthy because of it, before I decided that it was probably fine. She made it to 18 years old, so I'd say it was.

She'd wheeze and purr her terrible purr and it would lull me to sleep. I loved the sound of it. It meant she was happy. She was relaxed. She was never a high-strung cat, but she was easily annoyed, and hard to please. When I could make her happy, it was the best feeling in the world. The feeling of her resting her chin on me was the best that there was.

Sometimes, I'd be able to convince both cats to relax on the bed with me at the same time. I would think of those moments as the happiest in my life, even when they were happening. "This is it," I'd think. "Winning at bedtime."

I'm glad I had Tina in my life for as long as I did. 18 years is a long time, a good long time, and I don't have any regrets about it. I wish I could have had more, but I was already so greedy in wanting that much.

I dug through my hard drives and found these, which I believe are the oldest photos of her that I ever took, from January of 2008. She would have just turned two years old. This is pre-smartphone technology, here, folks. This isn't even a fliphone. It's just a slide-open phone with a shitty camera, but of the first twelve photos I ever took with a phone, four are of Tina. I still have this bed, by the way, or at least the frame. The mattress and box spring have been replaced.

Here she is from April 15 of this year, at her oldest and skinniest, sitting on the arm of my sofa for reasons known only to her. It's the best photo I have of her gorgeous eyes. The most beautiful eyes of any cat I've ever seen, even at 89 years old. They were the deepest, most brilliant shade of green, and it simply does not photograph right. Even in this photo, they look more yellow than they did in real life.

That was her, and how I'll always remember her: as my horrible, stinky old woman, who clawed my face and yelled at me when I had a food bowl in my hand because she wanted it on the floor and who purred like a chainsaw in my ear at night, and who had the softest fur and the prettiest eyes and who let me hold her like a baby, even though she'd always growl at me when I did that to her.

She was simply the best.

I'll probably share more photos in coming days, but I cried less today than I did yesterday, and that trend will likely continue, too.

Sorry to bother you twice about my dead cat like this.

Actually, no, I'm not. Fuck you. She was a big part of my life, and I miss her.

[parkersbliss]

My Reason | K. Brekker

pairing: kaz brekker x female reader

warnings: cursing? maybe slightly out of character?

wc; 2k

synopsis: kaz brekker makes a desperate attempt to protect you, but it backfires for both parties

prompts: 015: “You’re everywhere I go!” 020: “I just wanted you to be happy.”

a/n: kaz brekker: *breathes* me: I LOVE YOU YOUVE DONE NOTHING WRONG MY SWEET CHILD

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

—

You felt like crying.

Scratch that. You were going to cry.

You were going to cry and possibly throw something, anything. You wanted to grab a knife and chuck it at the wall repeatedly until there was a hole.

You wanted the wall to feel the same pain as you.

Like there was a hole in it.

Ironic.

Kaz Brekker, dirtyhands, the bastard of the barrel, shattered your heart. And he probably didn’t even know it or cared.

Kaz only cared, for one thing, money. You couldn’t blame him for that. Money was something necessary in Ketterdam. You needed money to stay alive and above the rest.

But money also puts a sign on your head. A big red blinking sign that probably says something like “big kill, big money.”

You weren’t stupid. You were very well aware of how big of a sign Kaz had on his head. Plenty of people wanted his head on a spike. You almost want to add yourself to the list.

“What?” You asked, voice small.

“Don’t make me repeat it.”

Kaz doesn’t bother to look at you. His eyes stay trained at his desk, filing through paperwork for the slat. He scribbles on them, whether it be a signature or a check.

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ve made myself clear.”

“No.”

“I’m not asking.”

“I don’t want to.”

“(Y/N), this isn’t up for debate.”

“Well, it should be! I should be allowed to have a say in this.”

“You don’t get one!” Kaz said harshly, finally meeting your eyes. “Out.”

You want to refuse, sit there and scream at him for the rest of the night. But you can’t. Kaz Brekker won either way. It doesn’t matter if you sat in his office the rest of the night and argued. His say was final. You would only be denying the inevitable by fighting.

You stand up, blinking through the tears forming in your eyes. The words slip past your lips before you even realize.

“I hate you.”

You slam the door shut behind you, missing the way Kaz’s face drops, and his pen explodes from the force of his grip.

He had kicked you out like that. Stripped you of everything you are. One mission gone wrong, and you were booted back onto the streets of Ketterdam.

He had kicked you from the Dregs.

It wasn’t even your fault. You didn’t understand his reasoning. You got shot, and the next thing you know, as soon as you've recovered, you’re alone.

And honestly, if Pekka Rollins himself asked you to murder Kaz, you just might. The Dregs weren't a gang; they were a family. They were home to you.

A home that you hadn’t had in a while, but it wasn’t just the Dregs. It was Kaz Brekker. The bastard of the barrel was also the person that held your heart in his hands. He was the person you went to at midnight when you didn’t know what else to do.

He was the person that listened to you.

He was your person.

But you weren’t his.

You grabbed the knife off the table and throw it as hard as you can at the wall.

You miss.

You grab the knife, wiping away the tears blurring your vision, and aim again. This time it lands in the wall. You clutch it and throw it again.

And again.

And again.

…

The Crow Club is still as lively as ever as you walk past it. You contemplate going inside, but you know better. A shadow catches your eye behind you, but there’s no one out here but you.

And yet, you can’t shake the feeling of being watched. Then again, any member of the Dregs was constantly being watched.

You shrugged it off.

Work was easy to find in a place like Ketterdam. It was also easy as one of the top assassins. You busied yourself in easy missions with easy targets.

It was the one thing in your life that remain stable. It was after one of these missions while cleaning your knife, did you see her.

“Inej?”

The said girl steps out of the shadows, silent as ever, and pulls down her face covering. “Hey.”

“What are you doing here?”

“The same thing as you.”

You use your knife to gesture to the dead man on the floor, and she nods.

“Looks like I beat you to it,” You joke, tucking your knife away and rolling your shoulders.

“It would appear so.”

You want to ask how everything is, and despite every bone in your body, how Kaz is.

But instead, you turn around to leave.

“We miss you,” Inej blurts.

You freeze, letting your shoulders fall. “I miss you guys, too.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“You don’t have to tell me that.”

Inej nods, stepping back into the shadows, and you leave, an aching in your heart.

But that wasn’t the last time you ran into Inej. You saw her everywhere after that and nowhere at the same time. At first, you didn’t mind, but then it became unsettling.

You felt like you were being watched in your own home, but there was no one. It was hard to explain. You always saw her in town, but the feeling of being watched couldn’t be shaken when you got home.

You didn’t know how to explain it. You wanted to call her out on it, but you said nothing.

Until you did catch her in your house.

You let her off with a warning by throwing a knife into her corner. It was never going to hit her, neither of you would allow it, but she stepped out after that.

You raise an eyebrow at her. “What are you doing?”

“Checking on you.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“I’m just looking out-”

“You’re everywhere I go!” You shout, “Everywhere, Inej. If you wanted to look out for me, you could use the door and ask!”

“I’m sorry,” The Suli girl said.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, sighing. You feel bad for yelling at her. Inej was one of your closest friends, and she was only looking out for you. “Inej, it’s fine I just-”

“It’s Kaz.”

“Kaz?” You question, voice softening.

“He wants to know that you’re okay, and not dead. Every time you go on a mission, he sends me as unofficial backup.”

“I can take care of myself. If he’s so worried about my safety, he shouldn’t have kicked me out in the first place," You snap.

“Maybe you should tell him that.”

You turn to face Inej, but when you do, she’s gone.

Kaz? This was his doing? You didn’t believe her, but you also knew she wouldn’t lie. You sit on the edge of your bed, staring out the window. Kaz wants to know if you’re okay.

Kaz Brekker, the man that kicked you from the Dregs wants to make sure you’re okay. The thought should be comforting, but it’s more infuriating to you. At first, you thought maybe he had changed his mind, but this was worse. He didn't trust you to take care of yourself or respect you in the slightest.

You were angry at him. You didn’t understand why, and he refused to tell you. He was so stuck up, thinking that keeping his feelings from others would make him appear stronger.

But the strongest thing anyone can do is admit them.

You stand up, grabbing your knife from the wall and tucking it into your belt.

There was someone you needed to see.

It’s bitter cold outside, biting and chilling. It forces you to walk faster towards the Slat. No one questions you when you walk in; it’s normal to them.

In fact, they look happy to see you.

Jesper’s eyes light up, and he goes to hug you, but Wylan pulls him back.

“That’s her pissed-off face.”

“I would wear earplugs if I were you,” Nina warns, “(Y/N) doesn’t back down from a fight and certainly not with Kaz.”

You make no comment and step past them, making your way up to his office.

You don’t bother knocking and throw open the door, eyes blazing.

Kaz’s head snaps up from his work, equally pissed that someone dared to open his door without permission, but then his eyes soften.

“You’re supposed to knock first, you know that,” Kaz said sharply.

You roll your eyes, slamming the door behind you. Nina smirks as she sits with the other crows outside the door, all wearing earplugs to reduce the sound of your screaming that's bound to come.

“I don’t care about your petty rules, Brekker.”

Venom drips from your voice, and Kaz sets down his pen, leaning back in his chair. “Is there something you want?”

“An explanation.”

“I can’t offer you that.”

“Kaz, you promised.”

His lip twitches ever so slightly at that.

“You promised me this. We made a deal. And Kaz Brekker goes through with all his deals.”

Kaz is silent. He’s at a loss for words. Dirtyhands did not have the upper hand here, and it seemed he was finally stunned.

“You can’t just send Inej out to watch over me after you kicked me out, okay? If you don’t have an explanation, at least let me live the rest of my life without you watching over.”

Nothing.

You sigh, pushing the tears back, ready to make your way out of the slat for the last time, but then he speaks. His voice is raspier than usual but soft, almost like a whisper.

“I just wanted you to be happy.”

“Happy?” You scoff. “Why would that ever make me happy?”

“It was a way out.”

“Out of what, Kaz?”

“This!” He shouts, standing up and gesturing to the walls around you both. “This lifestyle of doing the dirty work to survive and always having a sum of money plastered on your forehead.”

“I don’t want out!”

“It was a way for you to escape…. to escape me.”

There’s silence as you process his words. You wanted to be angry at Kaz and continue to lash out at him, but you understand. He had given you your reason, and you're damned because it's a good one.

But you didn't want to escape him. Kaz was the only reason you stayed in Ketterdam; he was the thing that kept you grounded here. He was your person.

“Why would I ever want that?”

“You hate me.”

You shake your head, “Kaz-”

He cuts you off, switching topics. “This lifestyle isn’t meant for you.”

“It’s not meant for any of us.”

“I gave you a chance.”

“You gave me a reason.”

“A reason?”

Kaz waits for an answer, but you’re afraid to give it. The hardest thing anyone can do is admit their feelings. And you're unsure if you're strong enough to face them.

Kaz Brekker was stone cold, and you don't know if he'd drop the facade, even for you.

“You are the reason I deal with this lifestyle,” You finally said, voice barely above a whisper as you feel the weight lift from your shoulders. “Because it’s worth it. You are worth it.”

“I am not worth anything,” Kaz dismissed.

“Kaz Rietveld, you are worth everything to me.”

The boy freezes, and you take a step forward, placing your hand inches from his. Your heart beats madly in your chest, and you feel like you're suffocating as you wait for an answer, a reaction, anything. You expect him to pull away, but he doesn't. He stares at your hand inches from his on his desk.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“It’s okay,” You said.

His eyes meet yours, and you can see the fear in them. His hands are shaky, but he manages to take yours in them. He still wears his gloves, and your hands are just barely resting on top of his, but it means enough to you.

“You’re worth everything to me,” he repeats back to you.

Your heart bursts in your chest as Kaz squeezes your hand lightly. The action means everything to you.

Nina screams in triumph with the rest of the crows outside the door.

You and Kaz laugh, still holding his hand.

And at that moment, you know, you are his everything, and he is yours.

[madd-nix]

My brain has latched on to this au with Rosie being from Hisui and Ingo adopting her while he's stuck there, so here are just some thoughts I've been having about it.

Rosie lost her parents (abandoned? they died? who knows) and is found by Ingo in the Coronet Highlands. He takes her to his camp (aka Lady Sneasler's den) so she can eat and get some sleep, then he takes her to the Pearl Clan settlement.

At the settlement, he asks Irida for advice on what they should do, and after some talking, Rosie decides she wants to stay with Ingo and he agrees to adopt her.

The Pearl Clan is basically a big extended family for her. Lian loves getting to act like an older brother to Rosie. Palina is a great babysitter and Rosie absolutely adores her (and of course she loves Iscan too). Irida is super nice and she teaches Rosie all about the Pearl Clan's traditions. Gaeric gives great piggyback rides and he's a great help for tiring Rosie out before bed. Calaba is such a sweet, grandmotherly woman and Rosie loves getting to help her out with little chores.

Rosie loves pulling pranks on Melli whenever Ingo isn't looking. He makes her dad's job harder by extinguishing the torches in Wayward Cave all the time, so she'll just repay the favor. He absolutely hates that he can be so easily tricked by a child and Adaman is just so tired of hearing about it. (Adaman does tell Ingo about the pranks, mainly to shut Melli up but also to avoid any further issues between the two clans. Rosie is grounded for this, but this doesn't stop her from messing with Melli altogether. She finds loopholes.)

Lady Sneasler absolutely adores Rosie and she views Rosie and her own kits as cousins. Ingo and Lady Sneasler catch Rosie napping with some Sneasels one day and they both have to keep from crying because holy shit their babies are napping together it's the cutest thing ever!!!

When Emmet eventually arrives in Hisui to bring Ingo home, he's understandably verrry shocked to find out that Ingo has a daughter. He's also verrrrrrry happy to be an uncle.

Leaving is a tricky choice. Hisui is where Rosie has grown up. What if she can't get used to life in the future? Obviously Ingo can't leave his daughter behind, but he also can't leave his brother and original home behind. There's also the fact that the Pearl Clan is part of Rosie's family too, so either way, someone is being separated from their home.

In the end, Ingo and Rosie go with Emmet. They're reminded by Emmet and the protag that they have access to legendaries (Emmet and Celebi, and the protag with Dialga and Palkia) that can bring them back to Hisui whenever they want to visit, so it all works out.

Getting used to city life is definitely rough for both Ingo and Rosie at first. They both get earplugs to block out the city noise. Emmet has to help in teaching Rosie (and occasionally re-teaching Ingo) different future technologies. Luckily, Rosie is young and a fast learner. It's mainly just the noise and the overcrowded city that bother her. Ingo makes sure to never take her out in public during rush hours as long as he can help it.

I just really love Ingo and Rosie so much

[your-denki-kun]

Left Out

Katsuki x Izuku x Denki x Eijirou x Reader

Warning: angst, negative thoughts, mentioning of death

What: fluff, angst,

Word count: 3.2K+

A/N: OMG! I hit 50+ followers. Sorry for not updating for a bit. First were the holidays and after that was the start of school in which I had to find my way again. Anyway, this is a story in which you date the four wonderful guys, but they start excluding you.

~3rd person pov.~

It's been going on for a while now. At first you didn't notice that much, but as time passed you started noticing. First the obvious things, but soon also little things. How they would exclude you from time to time, how they didn't listen as attentively to you as to each other, how they would forget to text you and so on.

You knew that dating four males could cause problems, but you never thought they would start excluding you. Katsuki and Izuku grew up together and have always had a thing for one another. Eijirou and Denki were the best of friends before they started dating as well. Eijirou and Denki had started dating first, you joined, soon after Katsuki joined and not even a week later Izuku joined as well.

It had been awesome at the start. Sweet kisses, cuddles, hugs, praises, cute compliments, nicknames, the whole package. Now, after three years of dating however, things have changed. They barely call you nicknames and will call you by your full front name, they will cuddle up and forget you're there or they'll kiss each other, but not you.

You let it slide at first, figuring they were just busy with work, but after three full months that wasn't an option anymore, seeing as it only got worse. You're all heroes and have weird schedules, but it never bothered any of you in the beginning. Sighing you stare from the dinner table to them as they're all cuddled up on the couch and talking.

''Okay, so Saturday afternoon from three at the park.'' Eijirou concludes.

''Yeah. We'll all be free then until eight. So we can do something fun, eat in a restaurant and then Kacchan can go to work.'' Izuku smiles.

''You've always been one for planning, Bunny.'' Denki smiles at him.

''Thanks.''

You lay your head on the table as they go to talk about something else than their date next Saturday. You're free too, but they didn't ask if you wanted to come along, they never ask if you want to come along anymore. You feel your eyes tear up as the familiar feeling of loneliness and abandonment pools in your gut.

You release a shaky breath before getting up and walking upstairs. You walk into the bedroom you all share and look at it from the doorway. Slowly tears start spilling as you stumble over to the bed. As you're about to get in a thought crosses your mind. 'Maybe I should sleep in a guestroom, it's not like they want me anyway.'

You turn away from the bed and walk out of the room. You carefully walk over to the guestroom down the hall, not wanting to make a noise and alert the males downstairs. Well, it's not like they'll hear, but somewhere deep down you're still hoping they care. You open the door to the room and walk inside, closing it behind you before walking over to the bed and laying down.

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

That Saturday you lay out four outfits, one for each boyfriend. While you put out the outfits tears keep falling from your eyes, but you just wipe them away and keep going. All of them have black skinny jeans. Katsuki has a black shirt with his skull for a top, Eijirou has a faded red, sleeveless hoodie, Denki has a yellow navel sweater and Izuku has a pastel green, oversized sweater.

Once you finish putting out the outfits you walk back over to the guestroom where you've been staying the past three days. As you close the door you can hear one of them entering the shared bedroom. You wipe at your eyes as a sniffle escapes you. You lay down on the bed on your back, staring at the ceiling as tears spill.

'Did they even notice that I haven't been sleeping in the same room as them? That I was the one to put out their clothes? Do they love me?' Thoughts like that keep running around in your mind, consuming you. The tears spill just a tad bit faster as the sniffles turn just that much louder. You can hear them walking around as you drown in sorrow.

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

They came back late that day. Eijirou, Denki and Izuku had decided to go shopping after Katsuki left them for work. You heard them come home, listening to them happily talking about random things as they walk around the house. Sfter they all go to bed you hear Katsuki get home from a late shift before falling into an uneasy sleep.

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

It's been weeks since that day and things like that kept happening. They've had four dates since that one in the span of seven weeks. Right now you're home alone, sitting on the couch, curled up in a corner as you watch TV. All of a sudden the house phone rings and you walk over to it, picking up.

''Hello. (y/n), speaking. What can I do for you?'' You ask softly.

''Hello, this is the hospital. We're calling to inform you that (family/member/name) is in the hospital in critical condition.'' A female voice says, sorrow lacing the words.

''W-Which hospital?'' You ask in a shaking voice.

''The one in Hosu.''

''I'm on my way.''

You hang up and scramble up to the shared room, putting on some pants and a sweater before running to get your keys, phone, wallet and earplugs. Once you have everything you put on your shoes and run out of the house, heading to the station to take a train to Hosu hospital. Once you arrive you speedwalk into the hospital.

''I'm here for (f/m/n).'' You heave as you try to catch your breath.

''Room 524.'' The female says.

You nod and walk over to the elevator. Once the doors open you walk inside and push the button for the fifth floor. The doors close and slowly it rises to the fifth floor. As the doors open again you speedwalk out and head to their room. As you see the door you open it without knocking and see them laying on the bed, skin pale, eyes empty and tired as they look weak.

''(f/m/n)...'' You whisper as you walk over to their bed.

''Hey little one.'' They say in a weak and trembling voice.

''What happened?'' You ask as you sit down on a chair beside the bed.

''I fell and broke some things. My weak body is getting weaker with the day, Honey. I don't think I have long left.'' They croak out.

''(f/m/n)....Don't say that.'' You whisper in a sad tone.

''It's the truth little one. Just, stay here for a bit and tell me some nice stories.'' They say.

You nod and start telling them stories of things that happened at work or things you read or saw on TV. They listen and ask a question every once in a while. You answer and just spend time with them until the doctor comes to tell you that visiting hours are over. You nod and say goodbye to your family memeber before leaving.

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

For four weeks you go to the hospital whenever you can to spend time with them, wanting to make memories. Right now you're on your way to the hospital. An uneasy feeling pools in your stomach as you get closer and closer. As you're a few blocks away your phone starts ringing. Frowning you take your phone out of your pocket and pick up.

''Hello?'' You ask softly.

''I'm sorry, but (f/m/n) passed away.'' The same female from last time says.

Incoherent words leave you as you drop your phone. The screen breaks as it hits the ground. Tears well up in your eyes before they start streaming down your face uncontrollably. Sobs escape you as you turn around and start sprinting to Mina's house, sobbing all the way there. As soon as you arrive you frantically knock on the door, phone long forgotten on the sidewalk a few blocks from here.

''(y/n)?!'' Mina exclaims worried once she sees your sobbing form in front of her door. ''Oh my god! Come inside! What happened?!'' She asks as she ushers you inside.

You just sob as she guides you to the couch in her living room and sits you down. She hugs you as you sob into her shoulder, holding her tight as you break down. Mina rubs your back as she's left in shock and confusion. Never has she seen you like this before. As you start calming down after almost an hour you break the hug and wipe at your eyes.

''S-Sorry...I didn't know where else t-to go.'' You admit.

''Hey, it's okay. Can you explain what happened?'' Mina asks as she rubs your back.

''A few weeks ago I got a c-call from the hospital....(f/m/n) fell and got hurt....They've been there for four weeks. I-I was on my way there when I got a call......They passed away Mina...They're gone.'' You cry softly.

Mina's eyes widen as she wraps her arm around you and holds you close as you cry. She knows how important they were to you. You would often spend time there and they were always there for you when you needed someone. Slowly a frown makes it's way onto her face as she breaks her hug with you.

''You said you didn't know where else to go. Why didn't you go to Kiri, Baku, Mido or Kami?'' She asks.

''I.....I can't.'' You whisper, looking down at your lap.

''Why not? They love you.''

''They don't.....Not anymore.....They've been going on dates without me, don't call me by my nicknames anymore, I've been sleeping in the guestroom down the hall for eleven and a half weeks....They haven't noticed yet....They.......They forgot I exist.'' You cry as you hug yourself.

''(y/n).....I didn't know. I'm sorry.'' She says softly as she hug you.

''Why does everyone leave me?'' You sob as you hug her back.

''I don't know, but I won't leave you, ever. I promise. I'll always remember you and be here for you.'' She whispers as she plays with your hair.

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

After spending the rest of the day at her house you head home, head hanging low as you're figure is slouched. While at Mina's place you called your boss to tell them you won't be coming in for a bit because of the passing of your family member. You unlock the front door and walk inside, closing the door and take off your shoes and coat.

You walk to the stairs, only to spot Izuku sitting on the couch by himself as he watches the news. You see your own face on TV, anouncing the break you'll be taking. Your eyes tear up as you remember how your day had started and walk upstairs and into the guestroom you've been making your own lately.

As you lay down on your bed you hear a knock on your door. You silently stare at it, to emotionally drained to care who's at the door and what their business is with you. After a bit another knock sounds before the door slowly opens. Izuku's head pokes into the room. As soon as his eyes land on you he opens the door fully and walks inside.

''(y/n)?'' He asks as he closes the door and walks over.

You blankly stare at him, tears falling from your eyes slowly. He sits down on the edge of the bed and looks at you with confused and sad eyes.

''What's going on? Why did you take a break? Did something happen? Is there anything you need? Can I get you anything? why are you crying?'' He keeps on rambling questions, hands flayling around.

''They died.'' You whisper, causing Izuku to freeze as he slowly looks at you.

''Who?'' He asks softly.

''For four weeks I've been visiting them whenever I can. I would tell them random things, keeping my mind off the inevitably. I got a call this morning...They died. Their body gave out. They're gone.'' You whisper as more tears spill and your lower lip trembles.

''Who died, (y/n)?'' Izuku asks worried.

''(f/m/n)...They're gone....Just like everyone else.....Everyone leaves me..Everyone.'' You whisper as you look away from him.

''We won't leave you.'' Izuku says, trying to comfort you.

''You've already left.''

''What?'' Izuku asks shocked, eyes widening as you slowly look at him.

''How long have you known I was in this room?'' You ask softly, tears slowly subsiding.

''Uhm, I heard you walk in before I went up.'' He says as he brings his hand up to his chin as he thinks.

''How long?'' You urge.

''A day?'' Izuku asks as he looks at you.

''Eleven and a half week.'' You state as his eyes widen.

''Why?'' He asks confused.

''Wight dates without me. No more nicknames. No more cuddles, kisses or affection. I haven't said a word in weeks to any of you. For so long....This has been going on for so long. You guys don't love me anymore. We're an odd number and I'm the one that's become the burden.'' You whisper, eyes glazing over.

''That's not true! We do love you. So much.'' Izuku says, voice a bit panicky.

''Don't lie!'' You bark.

''I'm not!''

''Yes you are! You all stopped loving me!'' You exclaim as you sit up in the bed.

''That's not true!'' Izuku says as the both of you get off the bed.

You shake your head in disbelieve as you walk out of the room, Izuku following after you as he calls out to you. You ignore him and walk into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water to calm yourself. It doesn't work however as Izuku starts pushing the wrong buttons. All of a sudden your eyes snap up to meet his, yours burning as your grip around the glass tightens.

''STOP FUCKING LYING!! I'M SICK AND TIRED OF PEOPLE LYING TO ME!! I'M NOT A TOY!!'' You yell as you throw your glass against the wall behind Izuku.

Eijirou, Katsuki and Denki freeze in the hallway when they hear you yell and something shatter. They exchange glances before running over and into the kitchen. They see tears of frustration running down your face as Izuku stares at you wide-eyed, trying to say something but failing. Eijirou slowly walks over to you, hands outstretched.

''Hey, (y/n), calm down. Lets talk about this.'' Eijirou tries.

''FUCK OFF!! DON'T START CARING ABOUT ME NOW!! JUST LEAVE ME LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE!! LEAVE ME TO ROT AND COMPLETELY BREAK!!'' You yell.

''What the fuck are you yapping about?!'' Katsuki barks.

You stare at Katsuki with broken eyes as you fall silent, body shaking as tears keep streaming down your face. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Denki slowly walks over and goes to stand a bit away from you, a sad look in his eyes as he scans you over, checking you.

''Pichu, hey, look at me please.'' Denki whispers to which you comply. ''You've been sleeping in the guestroom for a while now and I figured you needed some space, but it seems like I was wrong. What happened?''

You look at him and reach out for him, stumbling over and collapsing into his arms as you start sobbing uncontrollably. He wraps his arms around you as soon as the two of you touch and he cradles you in his arms, swaying from side to side as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. The other three males look at the two of you with pained expressions.

''Shh, I've got you, Pichu, I've got you. Shh. Just let it out.'' He whispers.

As you calm down you cuddle up to him as you tighten your hold, burying your face in his chest. He rubs your back as he glances at the others.

''What happened, Sunshine?'' He asks softly as he looks back down at you.

''They died.'' You whisper.

''Who?''

''(f/m/n), they died today. (y/n) told me before.'' Izuku says, taking a step closer.

You tens up in Denki's hold at the mentioning of their name. He looks down at you as he buries his face in your hair, his hold tightening.

''I’m sorry, Pichu. I'm so sorry. They're in a better place now. It's okay.'' He whispers.

''Is that why you're being so bitchy?'' Katsuki asks as he cocks up an eyebrow and folds his arms in front of his chest.

You break your hug with Denki and take a few steps back, hugging yourself as you look at the ground. Your eyes are glossy as you fight your tears. Denki, Eijirou and Izuku look at you worried as Katsuki just stares at you, a naging feeling in his stomach telling him that something is wrong, very wrong. He hates the feeling.

''No.'' You whisper, holding yourself tighter.

''Than what the fuck happened to get you this fucking bitchy?'' He grumbles.

''You mean to tell me that no one else noticed, Pichu has been sleeping in the guestroom for over eleven weeks and that they don't talk to us anymore?'' Denki asks confused.

''What?'' Eijirou asks softly.

''They've been closing themselves off. I thought they might need some space, but I think that isn't true and that I made a mistake. How did you guys not notice this?''

''We've been busy at work...'' Izuku says softly.

''To busy to pay attention to one of our lovers?'' Denki asks surprised.

''Not like they're really present in conversations.'' Katsuki mumbles as he looks down at the ground.

''You aren't either unless you're mad, annoyed or angry.'' Denki deadpans.

''(y/n)....I'm sorry. Work has been hectic lately and I'm busy and stressed.'' Eijirou says as he walks closer to you.

''You guys went on eight dates since I've been sleeping in the guestroom. Eight and for each one I put out the outfits. No matter how sad it made me, no matter if it made me cry. I did it for you guys. I...I did groceries, did chores, cooked, everything. And I'm getting nothing. I'm giving you guys my all and I get nothing.'' You whisper softly, curling into yourself a bit.

''Pichu....'' Denki says softly.

''All my life I've been giving and giving and giving. Never did I receive anything. When we all got together I gave and gave and gave and got love in return. That's enough for me. A simple kiss, calling me a nickname, holding my hand, giving me a hug. That's all I ask, not even all, one thing is enough....I ain't getting that no more.''

''I'm sorry, Pichu. I really thought you needed some time for yourself. I should've asked if that was why you went to sleep in the guestroom and got so distance and silent. And I know that's easy talking after it happened, but I really am sorry.'' Denki says as he moves closer to you.

''I forgive you, just don't do this again, Denks, please.'' You whimper.

''I won't, Pichu, I promise.'' He smiles as he hugs you.

You hug him back and cuddle up to him.

''I'm sorry too, Pebble....I...I should have payed more attention to all of you. I should have noticed that one of my favorite cuddle buddies wasn't there. I'm so, so sorry, Pebble. I really am.''

You glance at Eijirou and nod, reaching one hand out to him. He smiles and takes it, walking over. He plants a kiss on your head as he joins the hug.

''I'm sorry too, Puppy...I should have payed more attention to you.'' Izuku whispers.

You silently reach out to him and he takes your hand in his, joining the hug as well. After about two minutes all of you turn to look at Katsuki with sad, pleading eyes. He grumbles something under his breath and walks over, pulling you away from the others and into his chest. He wraps his arms around you and holds you tight.

''Sorry.'' He whispers.

You hug him tight in respons, the others joining with a smile. After a bit you all break the hug, Katsuki stating that it's enough affection for him at once. You all laugh at his antics as you plant a kiss on his cheek. Denki wraps his arms around your waist as he rests his head on your shoulder. You lean back against him and place your hand over his.

''I love you guys.'' You smile as you close your eyes.

''We love you too, Pichu/Pebble/Puppy/Teddy bear.''

[emelywrites]

Could you make a Diego Hargreeves x reader where she is number 3 and her power is like a banshee? Where she is part of the Sparrow Academy. When she meets Diego she falls for him and him for her, but he is still thinks about Lila so he’s kinda weary of starting something with the reader

I didn’t know how to write this at first but then I started and it got out of hand. It turned out angstier than I wanted it to but I hope you like it!

Warnings: Language, Angst

Her voice

When you were little every sound out of your mouth was harmful. Your screams as an infant put your siblings into unconsciousness, it made all the nannies quit and Pogo and Dad were always wearing earplugs. At some point everyone in the house was wearing earmuffs all day long. You soon came to understand that your voice hurt them and you started to keep quiet. When Dad noticed that you had understood your powers to that extent he finally started training you as well. Quickly, you were able to talk without hurting people, generally using your voice normally or to severely injure those within earshot.

As you got older, Dad taught you about frequencies and singing the right notes to do more than just harm. Manipulating people, make them love you, make them do whatever you wanted them to. Destroying objects, moving objects, even growing plants. You had your voice under full control and found quite a lot of joy in singing. 

When the Umbrella Academy arrived and you all gathered in the living room your sister nudged you to sing a tone to put them to sleep. Dad seemed to know who they were though so you kept your mouth shut. That, of course, didn’t mean he told you anything. Dad was a secretive man.

The Umbrella Academy stayed on the same floor as you. They had gone on many explorations through the house and sometimes you heard them in front of your door as you were practicing to sing without destroying everything in your room. One day someone knocked on your door.

„Come in“, you called.

„Hi, I’m Alison, I’ve been listening to you, sorry , that’s not supposed to sound creepy or something“, she laughed, „But you sing beautifully.“

„Oh, thank you so much“, you smiled, offered her a seat and sat down, „I certainly hope I didn’t manipulate you into saying that“, you laughed but then saw the confusion on her face, „I’m a banshee, or that’s what Dad says I am, the mythology is a bit different from what I do.“

„So you sing and people do what you want?“

„That’s one thing“, you grabbed the empty water glass, sang a high c and the glass shattered, „This is another. There’s more to it, I don’t think I’ve reached my full potential yet. I’m (Y/N), number three.“

„That’s cool, I’m number three where we came from, I can manipulate people, too“, she looked down, „I don’t really like using it though.“

„Except of course if you want to mess with your siblings“, you both laughed, „Don’t worry I do that, too, sometimes.“

„The other day I made Diego punch himself in the face“, she told you.

You laughed. You realized that she could be a friend to you and if she could be that, why couldn’t the others be that, too? So, you started spending more time with her. Her siblings, Vanya and Klaus, also started to come around and you showed them more and more of your powers. Yours and Vanya’s powers worked well together and you also started helping her with controlling her powers a little more than she did before. As you grew closer and closer you started hanging out around the house, with more people around.

Diego noticed you truly for the first time when you were sitting in the living area, singing along to Vanya playing the violin. He was entranced by your voice and when he looked around the corner he saw you for the first time and to him, you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He watched you and listened to you until you were done and went back to your conversations. That night as he laid in bed he thought about you but the longer he did the more it felt like some charm fell off and he felt bad about his feelings. He had just let Lila escape with a briefcase because he loved her. He couldn’t suddenly be in love with you, could he?

After that day, Diego seemed to always be looking for you, listening to your voice was like a drug to him and he couldn’t stop. Whenever he didn’t hear you he felt empty. One day, as you were practicing on your own in your room he was standing in front of your door when said door suddenly opened and you were standing in front of him.

„Diego, right? You know, you could just join us sometimes instead of eavesdropping“, you pointed out.

„I- I’m just- Sorry, your voice is…“, he couldn’t find the word.

„Beautiful, Cool, Amazing?“, you searched his eyes for confirmation, „Your siblings’ words.“

„Of course. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I just- I heard you the other day and- and you’re great, it felt good to listen to you.“

You blushed a bit at his words. „I can have that effect on people.“

After that Diego stopped listening from afar and joined you and his siblings. You grew closer to him. In a different way than to his siblings. You started feeling something for him that you’d never felt before. Diego didn’t know what your powers could do and you worried that if he did he’d think you used them on him. Because you did use him to lure him in. Everything after that was real. If he still loved you now it would be all his own feelings.

One day, after your first mission with the Umbrella Academy, Diego immediately went to his own room. He started avoiding you and didn’t talk to you for nearly two weeks until you got sick of it and went to his room. You knocked on his door but didn’t get an answer. You knocked again.

„Diego, please, it’s (Y/N). You haven’t talked to me since we got back from that mission and I think I deserve to know why at least.“

You leaned forward against the door and nearly stumbled into Diego when he finally opened the door. You looked up and noticed his eyes were swollen as if he had been crying but it didn’t look like sadness, more like rage.

„You lied to me. Don’t try to deny it. I saw you on the mission“, his tears started rolling, „I felt so bad about it but it wasn’t even my fucking fault. You used your stupid voice to lure me in, didn’t you?“

You felt your own tears sting your eyes. „No, Diego, please, I- I don’t use my powers on you“, you looked down, „not anymore.“

„You really did manipulate me. Fuck“, he was about to slam the door hut but you caught it.

„Diego, wait, I- please, don’t misunderstand. I saw you and I was- I was starstruck. I fell in love with you and- and I couldn’t control my powers anymore when I knew you were around. I think- No, I know I should have tried harder. But I’ve managed since we started hanging out. If- if you still like me that’s not me. I don’t do that“, your voice got quieter, „If it makes you feel better, I’m willing to always stay quiet when you’re around. I just don’t want to lose when I’ve only had you for so little.“

„I don’t want to be around you anymore. How will I ever know that all this was real? I felt so fucking bad about my feelings for you. Because I loved Lila, I mean I love Lila, I do. And then I- I fell in love with you. But it’s not real.“

„No, it is. Diego, I fell in love with you, too. I just made you notice me. That’s all, please don’t shut me out.“

You let go of the door and he threw it shut. You went to your own room and locked the door. Your cries that night made your room shake since your emotions were overpowering your self control. You stayed in your room for days and when you finally left it again for breakfast you were exhausted and just hoped no one would try talking to you. You got yourself a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal and sat down at the kitchen table where some of the Umbrella Academy and some of your siblings sat. When your siblings noticed your swollen face they made a run for it, trying to avoid confrontation at all cost.

„You okay?“, Alison asked.

You just nodded. You didn’t intend to use your voice again. Not around people you liked and cared about. You couldn’t risk them thinking about you the same way Diego did. She looked at you with worry but didn’t bother you about it anymore. You didn’t even notice how time was passing but you were soon alone in the kitchen, constantly refilling your coffee cup, eating cereal directly from the box. When the grandfather clock in the corner sounded you turned around and saw it was midnight. You sighed and noticed that with all the caffeine and sugar you had consumed you wouldn’t be able to sleep anytime soon.

Instead you went into the courtyard with a blanket around your shoulders and stepped into the courtyard. Diego was sitting under the big tree in the centre, flipping a knife in the air and catching it again. When you saw him you sighed again and looked down. That was your spot. You always sat there when you were upset. And right now, you were upset. On the one hand, you didn’t just want to surrender the spot to him. On the other, you didn’t want to bother him. You were in love with him and he hated you, at least that’s what you thought. Demanding your spot back now would probably just drive him further away.

Then he spotted you. He put his knife away and stared at you.

„I haven’t heard you at all these past few days“, you didn’t respond and didn’t look at him either, „But my feelings for you were still there.“

You looked up at him with tears in your eyes. He had feelings for you. Did he believe you now that you weren’t manipulating him?

„I missed hearing you sing. I missed seeing you everyday. I missed putting my arm around your shoulder when we were sitting beside each other“, he got up and walked up to you, „I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. But if you can forgive me I would like to hear your voice again.“

He put his hands on your cheeks. And you looked up at him through teary eyes. 

„I would love to sing for you again“, you whispered.

He smiled. Then he leaned in and kissed you. Because he wanted to.

[dalamjisung]

say it ✽ bang chan

word count: 4486

genre: fluff

pairing: reader x bang chan

description: all you needed to confess was a noisy neighbor; who knew?

It’s six in the morning, and, once again, you’re up. The law clearly states that constructions are only allowed to start after 8am, however, your neighbor seems to be in a hurry to move in– and in the process, trying to make everyone else move out. You try to muffle the shattering should of the stone breaker and the loud chattering of the poor workers that have to work early hours with your pillow, but it didn’t help. Nothing would, at this point. You got home from work late– around 11PM– and still had to finish a couple of things for the end of the week’s presentation, and you only fell asleep around three hours ago, only to be brutally awaken, yet again.

The worst is that you know there is nothing you can do. Talking to the workers would amount to nothing, because they are simply following orders, and talking to the new tenant didn’t work. You tried everything; sleeping pills, ear plugs, white noise machine, and you even checked how much it would cost to have a soundproof window, but it was way above your pay check. You just have to wait, and wait you do; you toss and turn until seven, and it stopped sometimes– but then it started right again. 

At this point, you were overworked, stressed, and sleepless, and you couldn’t help but cry. You sobbed on your pillow, just wanting absolute silence and warmth. You want to turn your phone off and disappear for a day, but it’s now almost eight in the morning and you need to get ready for work. Everyone notices as soon as you walk into the office– your dark aura emanating the warning you so much wanted to shout out loud, stay away. Not even your boss bothers you today, and you consider yourself lucky.

Time passes as if it was supposed to be this slow; you finish the presentation and starts your next project. You have lunch and you get your fifth coffee of the day. You go back to work but nothing feels productive anymore– you just feel spent. 

“Y/N,” Your boss calls from his office and when you look at him, he motions you to go inside. 

Taking a deep breath, you make your way to your superior. The last thing you need is to blow up on your boss and get fired, so you force yourself to calm down. 

“Yes, Mr. Min?” You ask, sitting down on the chair facing his. 

He waves his hand. “None of that formality now,” He chuckles. “I called you here to ask if you’re okay?”

“What… what do you mean?” You look at him, puzzled.

“Well,” He clears his throat. “Is just that you are one of my best workers but I’ve noticed you’re a little… off today. I’m your boss, Y/N, but now I’m asking as a friend. Are you alright? Do you need to leave early?’

And although Mr. Min is being incredibly kind, going home would just make things worse. You think that if you hear one more bang from that stone breaker, you will flip. 

“I’m fine, Mr. Min,” You smile, or at least you try to. “Thank you, though.”

“That is a lie,” He laughs. “I know because you look exactly like I used to when I was in your position. Please, take the rest of the day off. Even tomorrow– take tomorrow off, too. I know you’ve worked enough extra hours this week to meet your hourly quota for the month. Relax a little.”

“Ah,” You have no choice, then. “Thank you so much, Mr. Min. Really, I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” He smiles. “Now, do you have anyone to take you home? You are too pale for me to be comfortable with letting you go home by yourself.”

“I have someone, yes,” You bow to him, thanking him again, before leaving to retrieve your things. It is only now that your boss pointed out that you feel it– the exhaustion, the dizziness, the nausea. You need to go home and sleep, but you can’t. The noise won’t have stopped, and it goes until late at night. With a defeated sigh, you call your older brother. Usually, you’d never call Woojin if not to chat mindlessly as you cook dinner– he works too much, and too hard, to have to spend time and energy worrying about you, no matter how many times he begged you to put him down as your energy contact. However, you had no one else to call; your friend’s are all working and you know that Woojin has today off.

“Hello?” You hear his voice from the other side of the line and you swear you’d cry if you weren’t in front of other people. No one offered you comfort like your brother did… well, no one besides him, but you are trying to not think about that right now.  

“Hey bear,” You chuckle, walking out of the office and waiting for the elevator. “Busy?”

“Not for you,” You can hear the smile on his voice and it kills you that you are bothering him on his day off. “What’s up?”

“Uh, I’m not feeling well and my boss let me go early,” You mumble, looking at your feet in hidden shame. “Would it be possible for you to come pick me up?”

“On my way.”

And the line goes silent. Sighing, you sit down on the side of the street, breathing deeply as a way to try and maintain your head right. The pain was dulling all your senses and it is wild how much people take sleep for granted. You know what will happen next: Woojin will offer to take you home, you’ll try to convince him not to, he won’t give up, and you’ll be stuck with the noise you’ve been trying to avoid for weeks.

The car honks and you know it’s your brother, taking your time to get up and stabilize yourself so you don’t worry him more than you’re about to. When your vision comes back to normal, after getting up too fast and feeling light-headed, you notice that, yes, that is your brother… and Bang Chan. Your eyes go wide in recognition and you blush– why is he here?

“Y/N!” Chan smiles, opening the door for you. “Are you alright?”

“Ah,” You mumble, chuckling uncomfortably. “Yeah, I’m just–“

“Sleep deprived,” Both Chan and Woojin say at the same time. 

“How’d you know?!”

“Look at us,” Woojin laughs. “We recognize one of our own. The difference is that we know how to handle it; you don’t.”

“It’s not my fault,” You whine like a kid. “The neighbor’s constructors are starting their work everyday at 6am! I tried everything– complaining, earplugs, sleeping pills–“

“Pills?!” Chan shouts, turning to look at you with a frown in his face. “Y/N, no!”

“Hey,” You deadpan. “Don’t knock it ‘till you try it. They helped for a couple of hours, but then I woke up again and couldn’t sleep.”

“Y/N,” Woojin speaks softly, and you think that if he keeps doing that you’ll finally fall asleep. “Why don’t you come over to the dorms? Felix is back in Australia for the week, I’m sure you can sleep in his bed.”

“I don’t know, guys,” You sound reluctant, even if you want to agree. “I’m not sure how Jeongin and Minho would feel about this…”

Chan rolls his eyes, and mumbles a I’m sure they’d love it.

“I’m sure they’d be fine with it,” Woojin smiles, swatting Chan in the arm. “It’s just for a week. Now let’s go to yours grab some clothes.”

They only really understand you once they walk in; Woojin shouts something but you shrug, clearly not being able to hear him. You think your neighbor is in the final stretch of re-doing the apartment, but the breaking down the walls and drilling, and chattering, and hammering has been killing you. Your eyes tear up at the loud sound, stress getting to you as you pack your overnight bag. 

“Let’s go,” You say, pointing to the door. 

“What the fuck?” Chan whispers once you’re all outside. “That’s so loud… how long has it been like that?”

“A few weeks…” You mumble weakly. 

“Weeks?” Woojin repeats, mouth hanging open. “Y/N, why didn’t you call me sooner?”

“Because,” It’s all you say.

In the car, you doze off. You wake up slightly as you feel yourself getting picked up, and the flash of camera sounding off into space– but it’s not enough to make you open your eyes. You grumble something and go back to dreamland. You do wake up, though, once you are deposited in a soft bed.

“I’m a little to old for that,” You chuckle, letting Chan remove your shoes as Woojin pulled the covers so you could be tucked in.

“Nah,” Chan laughs, and you remember that. You remember his laugh and it’s nice. “No one is to old for this.”

His hand brushes a wild strand of hair and he smiles when he notices your eyes closing again. You looked really peaceful, and that’s his favorite look on you. He saw it once before, and after that night, he never really forgot, but it’s nice to see it again.

The music is loud and the booze is strong. Your body sways fluidly and it’s been a while since you’ve enjoyed dancing like this. Sora and Jennie disappear somewhere, as they tend to do, and you are by yourself, just how you like– the freedom of loneliness is something you don’t experience often, but you bask in. To be free, and feel free, enough to dance and act like no one is watching… ah, what a blissful moment for you. 

But all good things come to an end.

This time, is a simple touch. A hand, you assume, on your lower back, and a chuckle coming from behind you. You smile to yourself, thinking that if the approach is soft, then the rejection should be as soft. And you are not sure if it’s the fact that you are lonely and free or if you are horny and drunk that makes you grind back into this mysterious person. A hiss and a groan settle it; the man brings you closer to him, back to chest, and mumbles in your ear.

“I hope I’m not bothering you,” He says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “But you look very beautiful tonight.”

A polite one, it seems. As a ‘thank you’ you grind on his once again, and no words are needed after that. You two dance for what feels like hours, and it might as well have been, because you are pretty sure it’s already day when you turn around and–

“Goor morning,” You hear someone whisper while shaking you lightly. Your eyes open slightly to see your brother smiling at you. “It’s 6:30am. Do you have work today?”

You shake your head no, and go back to sleep after he kisses you in the forehead. It doesn’t last long, and you wake up again in a couple of hours. You stretch almost as if you were a cat– limbs long and wide,– and you go to the bathroom, knocking to make sure there was no one in there.

“Just a sec!”

In your hazy state of mind, you barely register Chan’s shirtless form emerge from the foggy bathroom, missing his shy wave and ‘good morning’ all together, focusing only in changing from your uncomfortable work clothes to the comfy sweats in your hands.

You make it through your shirt, as it falls on the floor, and you are working on your pants button when it dawns on you, and you shout– it’s short and brief, more surprised than anything, but enough to make the troop of boys outside worry. 

“You alright?” By the voice, you assume this is Changbin.

“Yes!” You shout back, covering your face with your hands, trying to calm yourself down. You try to recollect the image, but you can’t– it was too fast. “Oh my god. Oh my fucking god–“

“Language!” Minho. “We have kids in the house.”

You thought you were whispering, but you were wrong. 

“Noona,” Your sweet angel speaks. “Are you coming out anytime soon? I need to brush my teeth.”

“Just a second, Jeongin-ah!” You shout back, changing as fast as possible, completely forgetting about your hair and just letting it be. “Sorry I took too long.”

“No problem, Y/N noona,” Jeongin smiles and goes in, while you make your way into the living room, where everyone is sitting down while eating breakfast. 

“Here,” Woojin scoots so you can sit in between him and Seungmin. He shares his plate with you, and you two feel as if you are seven again, eating breakfast together while watching TV in the living room.

“Ya, what was that scream earlier?” Chan asks, frowning. You choke on a piece of toast and blush, noticing how your eyes instantly went to his chest, now covered and protected by a thick hoodie.

“Uh, my hair.” 

“What?” Changbin laughs.

“My hair looked terrible,” You shrug, trying to sell the lie. “It shocked me.”

“Do you scream everyday, then?” Woojin asks, teasing you as he messes your hair even more. You whine and everyone is laughing. Thanks to your brother you got to know the boys pretty well, so proud of them for everything they do and achieve, and Woojin couldn’t be happier about your friendship with them– but would he be happy if he knew?

You close your eyes, ignoring the shouts and laughter in the background, recalling the dream from memory. You want it again.

You turn around and you see nothing, but feel everything. The kiss is hungry and soft at the same time, and you can’t help but compare this kiss to the others you’ve had before. His lips are certain and careful, making sure that there is no controlling from either side, but rather a mutual effort. He pulls and you push, and vice versa. His hands are on your waist and your back and you can feel how respectful this boy is. You open your mouth to him and you’re a goner. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He mumbles over your mouth, lips touching each other as you two breath harshly. “What’s your name?”

And you smile, ready to hear your name falling from such perfect lips. 

“Y/N.”

“Y/N,” He repeats and you savor it. He does too, closing his eyes again. 

You don’t remember the rest, but you do remember the moment he speaks again.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Y/N,” He smiles, pecking your lips. “My name is Bang Chan.”

“You alright there?” Minho asks, waking you up from your daydream. You blink, a little lost, and then smile at him– it’s uncomfortable and forced, and everyone knows. 

“Yeah,” You mumble, resting your head on Woojin’s shoulder. “Just tired, still.”

“How long has it been since you slept, noona?” Jeongin asks worried. 

“A few weeks,” You chuckle. “Would you guys mind if I took a nap?”

“Go for it,” Chan smiles warmly at you. “You can use my room, since Changbin and I will be out all day.”

“Oh,” You aren’t going to oppose to that. You’d be lying if you say that Chan’s smell didn’t bring a certain comfort to you. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” His voice is soft, almost as if saying you shouldn’t even ask. “It’s all yours, Y/N.”

Even you?, you want to ask, but you know better. 

As you lay down in Chan’s bed, surrounded by his everything, you can’t help but think what would happened if you told Woojin– if you gathered the courage to say hey, I kissed your best friend, but it’s okay, because it was before I knew he was your best friend. But now that I know, and now that I know him, I just wanted to say that I am madly in love with him and everything he does. 

You try to remember when was it, exactly, that you knew you fell in love. You know it, now; but when did it start? Was it when Woojin finally properly introduced you two, and you two awkwardly shook hands, blushing from memories past? Or was it when you two go to know each other better and you noticed that his dimples show when he smiles and that he messes with his hair when he’s nervous? Maybe it was when you saw him working, concentrating on the beat and the bass and his eyes closed, like that night, as if he was soaking it all up. You are not sure of any of it; when it started, or how it started, but you are sure of it. You are in love with Bang Chan, and you have to tell Woojin somehow. 

The thought of hurting your brother overwhelms you, and you only realize are crying when it’s too late. Chan apparently needed something in the room, and when he approaches his bedside table to grab what looks like earphones, he hears it– a soft sniffle. 

“Y/N?” He whispers, and moves to take a look at you. “Hey, what happened?! Why are you crying?”

“I can’t do this, Chan,” You sob, hiding your face on his pillow. “I can’t do this to Woojin.”

“Do what?” Chan moves to sit on the bed, bringing your head to lay on his lap, softly running his fingers through your hair, and it only makes it worse. You see him typing something on his phone and you are sure that any time now, your brother would come in. “What can’t you do?”

“This.”

You think he knows what you are talking about; his hands cease their caress and his legs tense up. Woojin slowly creeps in, and you close your eyes just in time to pretend you are asleep. You hear him murmuring something, in conversation with Chan, and the door closes as you feel your head falling back onto the pillow. Sighing, you open your eyes.

“I knew you weren’t sleeping. We need to talk.”

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

“You like him.”

Of course Woojin knows. He’s always been really perceptive, and being the eldest of you two, he’s always been in tune with you, knowing when you were hurt, or happy, or tired. 

“I do,” You sigh. “But I won’t do anything about it.”

“Why?!” He whines, eyes wide and hands wild. What?

“Wh– Woojin, he’s your best friend!” You screech, thankful that the apartment is empty with the exception of you two.

“That’s why I know he’s a good guy!” 

“What the actual fuck is happening right now?!” You groan, pulling on your hair. Woojin holds your hands, just like he always does, and chuckles.

“Y/N,” He starts. “I’ve known for months. I see the way you act around him, and it’s actually pretty funny.”

“It’s not funny!” You defend yourself. “I just get… nervous.”

“Yes, and that’s adorable,” Woojin teases, pinching your cheeks. “But I’d never be angry at you for that, monkey. Seeing you happy is all that matters for me, and if you are happy with Chan, and he is happy with you, I’m happy, too. Chan is a great guy; I know that because I live with him. And because he told me everything.”

You look at him with wide eyes.

“You knew?!” 

“Of course,” He shrugs. “Y/N, you are a grown woman. You are strong and independent, and although I’ll always to protect you, I’m not angry you and Chan kissed in the club that night. You didn’t know each other, and Chan doesn’t just do that– he doesn’t usually go to girls in clubs to just make out and leave.”

“He doesn’t?” You mumble, and Woojin melts. You look like a kid, and he wonders how much you like his friend, if you feel this insecure.

“No,” He smiles softly, climbing on the bed to hug you. “Chan cares about you, monkey. And so do I. And I want to see you two happy. So go for it.”

“Sure, because it’s that easy,” You say sarcastically. “I don’t even know if he likes me.”

“Sure,” And you two really are related, because he sounds exactly like you when he’s sarcastic. “And the sky is green.”

You just look at him. 

“Wait, are you serious?!” Woojin squints at you. “I know your slow, but wow, I didn’t know you were dumb, Y/N.”

“Thanks, brother,” You roll your eyes.

“Chan is in love with you.”

Woojin says as if it is nothing new, but it makes your heart stop. You never thought you hear that, specially coming out of your brother’s mouth. 

“Okay, ew, don’t look like that,” Woojin complains, pushing you away.

“Like what?” You try to cover up, but it’s too late. He knows you too well.

“Like you are ready to run after him and jump his bones,” Woojin fakes vomit and you think you might just do it for real.

“Ew,” You say rather loudly. “Let’s not ever think of that again.”

“Agreed,” You two shake hands. “I’m serious, though. He is in love with you, but at the same time he is worried. He thinks you don’t feel the same, no matter how many times I told him you did, and he is worried that he might scare you away. So do something, yeah? Anything. I don’t think I can hear him talk about you anymore… it’s so awkward.”

You hug your brother. “Thank you, Woojin. Really, this means the world.”

“Your happiness means the world, Y/N,” He whispers. “Now take a nap. Chan will be back later and I’ll take the boys our for dinner tonight; give you two some privacy.”

“What did I do to deserve a bother as awesome as you?” You joke as he gets up.

“You are right,” He winks. “I am awesome. Love you, kid.”

“Love you too, bear,” You send him a kiss and lay down again. Now, with Woojin’s blessing, you feel like you can finally do it. You fall asleep again, and this time, when you wake up again, you fell fully rested.

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

The boys get home late, but Chan’s not with them. Everyone notices your nervous glances to the door and your bitten nails, but they say nothing. They shower and then leave again, your brother leading them out with promises of barbecue and karaoke; you tell them you are too tired to go and that’s the end of it– you are alone once again. 

You make some ramen, but you are too anxious to eat. You are not sure what time is it, but you fall asleep, and wake up once again with the sound of someone punching the passcode in. Chan gasps slightly upon seeing you laying down in their couch and, dropping his backpack in the floor, he walks to you. 

“Ah, you silly girl,” He whispers, and you do your best to pretend you are still asleep. “What are you doing here? I told you to sleep in my room…”

His hands go around you– one under your legs and the other on your back,– and just as he moves to pick you up, you pull on him, making him fall on you. 

“Waiting for you,” You grumble, still a bit sleepy. You rub your eyes as he moves, trying to avoid depositing all of his weight on you. “I was waiting for you, Chan.”

“Why?” He asks once the shock passes; he is sitting next to you, one arm resting on your bent knees, almost as if he is hugging your legs to him. “Something happened?”

“A lot happened,” You smile, pulling your self up and getting closer to him. “And a lot more is about to happen.”

He smiles. You squint your eyes and you notice how relaxed he looks, how at ease. 

“You know,” You say, voice coming out a little bit accusatory. “Woojin told you!”

“Not everything,” Chan laughs, hiding his face on your knees. “Just the important parts.”

“It’s all important!” You exclaim, laughing with him. “No fair– I wanted to say it!”

“Then say it.”

The atmosphere is quick to change; the playfulness from before disappearing in a swift moment. His eyes are one yours, and his chin is still resting on your legs, trying as he might to not just grab you then and there. Touching you like this would suffice, for now, at least. 

“Come on,” Chan coaches you softly, hands caressing your thighs. “I want to hear. I need to hear it, Y/N.”

The desperation on his voice– for certainty and confirmation,– is what makes you smile. You take his face on your hands, and brings him closer, allowing him to kneel in between your legs, arms circling your waist as he grunts with the effort to keep him stable. You shudder at the sound, and kisses his right cheek. Then the left cheek. And then offers him your mouth, and he is the one that kisses you now. A small peck, it’s what it is, but you don’t care. 

“I love you,” You whisper into his mouth, feeding him, touching him. “I love you, Bang Chan.”

His turn is a while later, after he satisfies his immediate need; he kisses you for as long as he can, bringing you closer each time, even though you think there isn’t any space in between you two. His mouth is open and smiling and soft and you go back to that night. You remember it; his hands, his taste, his voice. Everything is Bang Chan and you adore it. You love it.

“Love you,” He whispers frowning, eyes closed just like he does when he is concentrating. You soothe his forehead with your thumb, and kisses his nose. “Love you so much, Y/N.”

“Good,” You pull back, and lay down, pulling him with you. “Or else this would be a little awkward.”

He laughs. “Let’s go to my room, my bed is more comfortable than the couch.”

You let him carry you to his bed, where you lay down with your head on his lap as he works some more. You let him kiss your forehead, from time to time, and you let him shush the boys as they all scream in excitement to see you two cuddled up in bed. 

You smile, feeling him put his computer on the floor, and turn around to cuddle you. You kiss him, just one more time for the night, before falling asleep again. 

You wake up the next morning thinking it was all a dream, until Chan comes in the room, with a steaming cup of coffee, and he says it again.

“Love you.��

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

it’s been a while since I wrote for skz, but I quite like how this came out :P what do you think? let me know! your support means the world ❤️

[lonelypond]

Parent Trap, Ch. 3

Love Live, NicoMaki, 3.1K, 3/?

Summary: Maki heads to Philly, after some pointed questions from Grandmama Nishikino; Nico seizes the stage; Eli worries.

Another First

Eli hadn’t been sleeping so when Mischa came out and saw her Mama sleeping on the couch again, she curled up against her, humming.

“Nontan?” Eli muttered, but the weight on her side was a light one, “Misha?” Eli was wide awake.

“You have a bed, Mama.” Misha stated.

“I know, baby. I’ve just had to stay up late and I don’t want to disturb your mother.”

“What’s been keeping you away from me, Elichi?” Nozomi drawled, wrapping her robe around herself as she entered the kitchen.

“Well, you.” Eli thought, but she just hugged Misha and yawned, “I’ll be in bed early tonight.”

Nozomi leaned on the counter,“I look forward to it.”

Eli ignored that, giving all her attention to her daughter, “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Caramel popcorn.” 

“Popcorn isn’t breakfast food. How about cereal, that’s crunchy.”

“Okay.”

“Here you go,” Nozomi pulled puffed corn cereal off the shelf, “Put some blueberries in.”

“Good idea, Mom.”

“Thank you, baby bear.” Nozomi winked at Eli, “All my ideas are good ones.”

Eli remained silent. She couldn’t figure out, besides her usual matchmaking tendencies, what Nozomi might be up to. But she needed to know details before she needed to do damage control. But Nozomi, unusually, wasn’t being quick to gloat. Which worried Eli even more.

###

Maki was glad Dia was asleep. The Nishikino matriarch was about to make Dia’s Mama’s life very difficult and Maki didn’t want Dia picking up on her stress.

“So, Maki, why are you suddenly flying to Philly?” Coffee was never just a pleasant drink shared.

“Got a ticket to a concert. It’s the only one I can make. I want to pick up a lot of local history books for Dia.”

“Concert? The symphony? Philadelphia is….” “No.” Maki shook her head, speaking slowly calmly, nothing to see here, “Singer, friend of Eli’s.” “Oh.” The strategic sip.  Maki countered with a glance at the time.

“Thank you, Mama. Dia was very excited about coming here…” Her mother raised an eyebrow, “Has Dia met your new…” hesitation, fraught with meaning, “friend?” Maki shrugged, “We had a casual lunch. She knew a fun place to go skating. The Ribbon downtown. You should take Papa.”

“I’ll be sure to get the details from Dia.” Her mother was really going to interrogate her one year old grandchild for details about Maki’s date. And then the internet. Oh gods, Maki paled, what did you get when you searched Nico? What kind of things did she wear onstage?

“I really have to go.” Maki stood, going to kiss Dia before she left. “I’ll call you when I land.”

Her mother nodded, “Be careful, dear.” “I always am.”

Maki wondered what her life would have been like if she’d been a little less careful.

###

Nico stared at the message that had just pinged in.

M: So, I’m in Philadelphia tonight. But your show is sold out.

Nico snorted. Of course her show was sold out, all the tickets were gone in two hours. 

Another ping.

M: I was hoping you could sneak me in ; )

N: Nico doesn’t do groupies.

M: Does this outfit work? I usually go to symphonies. Then the snap. A short, plaid skirt, textured and torn stockings, the kickiest of designer boots, a cropped NicoNi t-shirt under what looked like a cashmere swing coat. Nico whistled.

“Cocoro?”

“Yeah, sis?” “Find Maki and bring her to the green room. Fast. She looks like this.” Nico handed Cocoro her phone.

“Is she the one with the little girl?”

“Yes.” “Doesn’t look like anyone’s mother.” Cocoro snapped. “Just go get her.” Nico ordered.

Exasperated, Cocoro zoomed out the door.

“And be friendly.” Nico yelled as the door closed. 

Nico leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling, willing herself to focus on the concert, the audience, the fans eager for a Nico Ni knockout show. She could feel the buzz, the call to burst out onstage. She never started late, but tonight, tonight, there would be a slight delay because Nico was going to claim a good show kiss from her newest fan.

###

The screaming. It was everywhere. It was insane. And EVERYONE was singing along with Nico, waving lights, hands and banners in the air. And Nico was a shower of meteors, almost literally, lights and energy and sound making her seem like a series of explosions speeding across the stage.

Maki sat on a stool after trying to keep up for awhile when she caught a glance and a wave in her direction from the star of the show. The nosise and bustle was starting to give her a frowning headache; she wanted to have bought earplugs. She caught glimpses of molded foam in the ears of all the staff. Because they were music professionals who wanted to retain as much of their hearing as possible. And Maki was an idiot fangirl in too little clothing to be warm. She pulled her cashmere coat around herself and watched, unable to look away, from Nico executed sharp and perfect breaking moves in summer beachwear. Constant motion and spotlights must keep Nico warm, because there wasn’t enough fabric to.

Maki zoned out, watching Nico in a detached fashion, as she ignored the blur and bustle around her. And then the stage went black, and the audience was still for enough of a heartbeat to startle Maki out of her fugue state, and then when the NICO! chants picked up volume, Nico was suddenly in front of Maki, hands on either of Maki’s knees, curving upward to smack a kiss on Maki’s lips. Maki fumbled backward and one of Nico’s hands reached around her waist.

“AMAZING RIGHT!” Nico was glowing and shouting and Maki was too aware of all the people rushing toward Nico and crowding both of them. Awkwardly, Maki slid off the stool, into a sweaty Nico hug. And Maki was calm for however many seconds that lasted, but then Nico had her hand and was pulling her toward the stage, and her sister, headset on, was covering her mic to yell things at Nico Maki couldn’t understand. At the edge of the stage, Nico turned to Maki, “Encore. Wait here.”  And then the roar as Nico walked out for another song, Maki, realizing she was on the verge of hyperventilating, turned and sprinted to where she thought the exit to the what must be a cooler quieter hallway would be.

###

Maki paced. She had leaned against the wall, eyes closed, already caught up on her messages, made a sad sounding TWIG post, hummed through the Nico songs she could remember, wondered if Dia was sleeping okay and if she’d missed Maki’s usual bedtime story. All of that and Nico was still somewhere else. So Maki was pacing. And then a door banged open and there was a slightly out of breath Nico, oversized neon pink hoodie over white and pink heart leggings.

“There you are. Nico couldn’t find you.” Nico waited for Maki to finish her circuit and return to where Nico stood. 

“Are you done?” Maki grumbled, then winced.

“Nico’s never really done on a concert tour. Perqs of being the boss.” Nico waved her arms, “Everything is Nico’s.”

“Don’t you eat. Or sleep?” This was obviously going to be  more complicated than taking Nico out after the show to the quirky diner Maki had researched

“Yes, Nico eats. We go back to the hotel. Cocoro’s already ordered enough food for three crews.”

“Oh.”

“Did you want to take Nico out?” Nico almost giggled about how cute it was, but the tremble of Maki’s jaw stopped her and she swivelled into enthusiasm, “That sounds perfect. Nico is starved.” “Really?” Maki’s body language looked less defeated.

“Let’s go.” Nico took Maki’s hand, and with the other, pulled her phone out of the hoodie’s kangaroo pocket, “Cocoro? Nico needs the limo now...and make sure everyone is taken care of…” Nico glanced at Maki as she listened to the reply, “I don’t know when I’ll be back. Don’t worry,” Nico winked, “Maki’s taking care of me.”

“I could call a car?” Maki offered. “Nah, Nico’s driver is used to things and doesn’t mind driving around if there’s no parking. And the sound system is crazy good. We can play anything you like, if you’ve had enough Nico.” Maki, with Nico on her arm giving her the complete Nico charisma package, couldn’t keep the huge grin off her face, “Well, I did sit through an entire concert.” “But Nico didn’t sing your favorite song.” “Huh?”

And Nico, grinning devilishly, dropped her voice and “Stuck On You” echoed through the hallway.

###

The third restaurant/bar that had a kitchen that closed early. Maki had growled and stormed out, Nico had smiled, apologized, and tipped the bartender who had delivered the bad news. Then she’d rushed outside before Maki flipped a car or wandered into traffic...Nico stopped, Maki was standing outside the bar, a couple steps down from the door, one arms holding her coat closed, the other holding a phone she might have been shouting at, but she was looking more like crying than car flipping. 

“C’mon.” Nico grabbed Maki’s arm, pulling her toward the car, “We’re going to grab a couple of the coolest pizzas in Philly, take them back to Nico’s suite, and catch up on Nancy Drew.”

“Nancy Drew?” “CW teen horror with a diversity of brave, pretty people, and a conniving lesbian lovely. It’s fun.”

“Horror?” “Spooky mystery. Scarier than Scooby, but not too gory. Nico and Cocoro watch on the road so we can catch up with Cocoro and Cotaro when we get back home. You like pizza right?” Ah, something Maki could grab onto, “Yes, I like pizza.” “Did you pack pajamas?” “No.”

“No?” That made Nico pause.

Maki twirled a curl of hair into a thin twine, “I mean I brought sweats…”

“Uh huh,” Nico held the car door open, “Nico will grab you sweats and a t-shirt from the merch stash. Fresh off the runway. That outfit is super hot, but doesn’t look curl up on the couch with pizza comfy.”

Maki smiled, finally,  as she adjusted the very short skirt for sitting, “It’s really not.”

###

The pizza was square. 

“It’s square.” Maki said, sitting back from the box, sliding farther back into the corner of the sectional, the lights of Philly bright behind her in the floor to ceiling windows.

“It is.” Nico sat solidly center, setting up her laptop.

“And gooey.” Maki pulled a piece out of the pie, examining it quizzically, “Crispy crust, then cheese, then sauce.” 

“Smells amazing.” Nico leaned down the couch to sniff, then snagged a bite. “Nico likes.” “Hey!” Maki pulled the pizza away from Nico while managing to lean toward her, “My slice.” “Sharing is sexy.” Nico stared into amiable amethyst, trying to keep her eyes off the slightly too tight V neck she’d pull for Maki.

Maki raised an eyebrow, “Leaving enough pizza for your date is sexier.” “Hey.” Nico opened the second box to wave under Maki’s nose, “Nico bought two pies, with the selection of their best toppings. Paid cash.”

“Yeah, good pizza in Philly seems to be a cash only deal. It’s weird.” Maki sat back, pizza gone in three bites. 

“Puts more money into pizza, less money into credit card fees.” Nico started on a slice of her own as Maki grabbed one from the second box. “Philly’s got weird vibes, cool weird vibes, though. All the history stuff adds awesomeness.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait to see the Liberty Bell tomorrow. I told Dia I’d bring her back a lot of books.”

“Nico can make some time in the morning..” “Really?”

“Sure.” Nico wasn’t actually sure Cocoro would agree but the thought of Maki bright eyed and eager wandering historical Philly in search of things to take home to Dia was too cutesweet to miss. “It’s right downstairs.”

“So,” Maki swivelled her way out of the corner, now fully leaning on Nico, “What’s this scary teen show you want us to watch?” “Haven’t you ever heard of Nancy Drew, girl detective?” Maki giggled, “Of course, I have, Nico. But you’ll need to catch me up on the plot so far.” Nico decided she’d had enough pizza and dropped her arm around Maki’s shoulders, encouraging closer snuggling, “Nico is the best at catching people up. So, there’s Nancy. And George, who’s running a diner, and then Bess who’s living out of a van, and Ned Nickerson is working out of a garage and he and Nancy have this relationship that she won’t admit is a relationship and…”

Maki put her head on Nico’s shoulder, still managing to keep a constant pizza chew going, “Where’s the scary?”

Nico leaned over to hit play on her laptop, “Oh, you’ll see.”

###

Voices. Maki must be up. Nico smiled at the memory of an adorably exhausted Maki too sleepy to keep her eyes open through more than one and a half episodes of Nancy Drew. Nico let the coziness on the couch linger for the rest of the ep, but then grabbed a pillow and blanket from her bed and tucked in her surprise overnight guest right where she was. Nico wrapped a robe around her camisole and shorts and stepped into the sitting room. Maki was sitting in the solo chair in the far corner, staring out at the Philly skyscape, mug of something on the table next to her, smiling at her phone.

“No, Mama won’t be back for lunch, Dia. We’ll have breakfast tomorrow. I had square pizza for dinner last night. And cold pizza for breakfast.” Maki waved a slice at the camera. “PIZZA!” came the squeal from the phone, “Mama, want pizza.”

Guess it ran in the family, Nico chuckled to herself, probably best to leave Maki and Dia alone, no telling who else was in on the call and waking up in someone else’s hotel room usually required explanation. Nico ducked into the bathroom.

Dia had been fussy last night, missing Maki. Maki hadn’t missed Dia as much as she feared, but gleamed when Dia wanted to video chat over breakfast. 

“We’ll get pizza for dinner tomorrow, bun.” “NOW.” 

Dia seemed more interested in having pizza than having Maki there.

“I’ll talk your grandmother into pizza for you, all right.”

“Pizza.” Dia's volume was a shout, “And Mama.” “I won’t be back until late tonight, Dia. But I’ll have a bunch of presents. I’ll read you a book if you’re awake.” “Book…” Dia’s face lit up, “Bedtime story.” “Bedtime story for Dia, about the Liberty Bell.”

“Ring!”

Maki laughed, “Let me talk to your grandmother.”

###

A knock on the door. Maki must have ordered something. Maki seemed to be saying goodbye so Nico answered it. A hotel staffer stood, black waxed canvas duffle bag and matching garment bag in hand, “Ms. Nishikino had her luggage sent over.” “Oh, thank you.” Nico was still in her bathrobe, so she took a good look at the nametag, “Nico will leave you a tip when she checks out, Terry.” Nico took both bags, surprisingly heavy. She didn’t hear Maki’s voice so she figured it was safe to speak.

“They brought up your luggage.” “Oh thanks.” Maki bounced into the main part of the sitting room, “I’ll take that.”

“Nico needs a tip.” Nico refused to turn over the garment bag when Maki’s hand closed over hers. “Oh…” Maki seemed confused and reached for a pocket but the Nico Ni pink sketch sweatpants had none. 

“Not what Nico meant.” Nico stepped closer, lips pursed, closing her eyes but not before she caught the flaming blush across Maki’s cheeks. A quick, tingling brush across Nico’s cheek and Nico let Maki take the luggage.

“Did you leave Nico any pizza?”

Maki nodded, not making eye contact.

“Maki?” “‘m sorry I feel asleep…” A mutter, then a sigh, “It wasn’t much of a date.”

“Don’t worry about it. Nico had a great time. I was really glad you came to see the concert.” Nico raised a hand to her temple, “It’s a big change from the first night we met on that balcony, Nico Nico Ni. Nico likes this better.”

Maki, eyes suddenly glowing like Nico had stirred up banked embers, stepped in, one hand sliding around Nico to pull her closer, as their lips fumbled into a demi-passionate melding. 

“Me too. You’re amazing.” Maki whispered, still close enough that Nico wanted to bite forward, “I’d love to come to every concert.” Another kiss, even less breath left for talking, Nico pushed a little, “Free tonight?”

And that broke the spell. Maki stepped back, regret pursing her lips into frown lines, “Evening flight. Sorry, Nico.”

Nico slid her hand down Maki’s arm, until their fingers were intertwined, “Can’t blame Nico for trying.” Maki’s grin gleamed, “Are you planning to monopolize my time from now on?” A quickly stolen kiss as Nico said, “Yes.”

“Good.”

“Hey,” Nico, hand still holding Maki’s, pulled her toward the couch, “If you ever want to come back to Philly and stay longer, we can get a crib in this suite. Probably take a week to really find out what Philly’s best square pizza is. I’m sure Dia’d like a vote.”

Giggling, Maki let Nico pull her into an embrace, her head falling back to Nico’s shoulder, “Sounds like fun. Dia’s first plane ride.”

“Do you really want to go sightseeing now?” Nico whispered in Maki’s ear, fingertips playing with the hair at the back of Maki’s neck. “Nico…” there was a shiver in Maki’s voice so Nico’s lips followed the path of her fingertips.

Nico’s hand was now sliding into the V neck of the Nico graffiti portrait shirt, “You can pick up something for Dia on the way to the airport. My driver knows all the best places.”

Maki slid down the couch, forcing Nico’s hand to linger by her ear, “Nico…”

“Yes?” Nico flipped, so that she had Maki pinned down, leaning in, hovering near enough to lick Maki’s lips if she’d moved her tongue at all. And then in a blink, Maki had surged up, her arms around Nico, lips crashing in a completely unguided, stunner of an amorous explosion.

Another “Nico,” more plea than pleasure.

Maybe Maki wouldn’t be making her flight. Or Nico’s concert would go on without the main act. Nico didn’t really care. Time could stop right now. Maki was melting, hair vivid and sexy as she curved sensuously against the pale neutrals of the couch, and Nico, all Nico wanted to hear was how often Maki could moan her name. No audience had ever hit exactly that tone, that grab, that fuel. A new world, just for Nico. Time to explore.

A/N: Howdy.

[words-and-seeds]

“They hear the music the other person is listening to in their head” for any ship, but this could make... one hell of a Sharky/Reader sksksksksksk

This is old as balls, and I don’t even know if this was a request or a comment, but you got a fic. 💋💋💋

Your parents hated your soulmate long before you learned his name or anything about him.

It all started when you were a baby. When you would wake up screaming in the middle of the night with no warning. Your already sleep-deprived parents took you to doctor after doctor, specialist after specialist, but the most the doctors could come up with was that maybe you just had a bad case of colic.

When it continued long after the age colic was supposed to go away, one enterprising young pediatrician came up with a surprising and unconventional answer: maybe it was your soulmate’s choice in music keeping you up at nights.

You were too young to talk at the time, so it wasn’t like they could ask you about it, and since it was possibly music that was only playing in your head, they couldn’t just give you earplugs. But since they were desperate for anything that would give you, and them, a full night of sleep, they installed a CD player in your room and began to play soothing, toddler appropriate music instead.

Your soulmate seemed to get the hint.

Once they started, you never woke up, crankily sobbing your little heart out, after that for anything other than normal baby reasons.

It didn’t mean you didn’t hear the music anymore, it just meant your soulmate was more considerate about when he played it.

You grew up listening to disco, which worried your parents a bit. They knew your soulmate was older by his taste in music, they just hoped he wasn’t too much older. You weren’t as worried, content to just go with the flow and see what happened.

You didn’t entirely love his taste in music, but he probably hated yours. After all, your tastes ran much more toward opera and classical, which was about as far from Donna Summer and The Trammps as you could possibly get.

But you thought about him a lot as you grew. What his name was, what he looked like, why on Earth he loved a genre of music that went out of style forty years ago. You found yourself wishing you were the kind of soulmates who could communicate by writing on your skin and be done with it, because your brilliant idea of communicating by song lyrics either went completely over his head, or he just chose not to acknowledge it.

You only hoped that he enjoyed hearing the first lines of The Zombies’ Time of The Season on repeat.

When the years stretched on and you started to despair that you would meet him, you started to date around. Mostly because your parents were sick of you moping around and crying every time one of your friends would get married. But the knowledge that the other half of your soul was out there, waiting for you, meant that any relationship you bothered to start was pretty much dead in the water.

Besides, you had started to suspect he knew when you were going out on dates, because on those nights, the disco played louder than ever.

You found yourself in the very awkward position of explaining to your dates that you couldn’t actually concentrate on what they were saying, because your soulmate seemed to be the jealous and passive aggressive type.

By the time you enter the police academy, you’d all but given up on finding him, and devoted yourself to your career. Law enforcement suited you, and you liked the idea of making a difference.

That pretty much changed immediately when you were given a desk job and moved to the basement to do reports.It was all you could do to get through a day, and during those times, the disco actually helped. It gave you something to dance around and lip sync to, even if you did look like a lunatic to anyone who walked in. But there was only so much paperwork one person could do before going completely postal.

So you start looking around for a new job, and for reasons you couldn’t even explain to yourself, you feel drawn to the job opening for a junior deputy in the Hope County sheriff’s department.

After applying and receiving a surprisingly quick response - a terse ‘you’re hired’ and a time and date to show up for orientation - you made the move to Hope County with a light heart.

You felt like you went in with your eyes open: you knew that Hope County wasn’t likely to be a hot bed of criminal activity, you knew you’d more than likely relegated yourself to the position of cow crossing guard - or whatever the hell they had out there in the boonies - but at least you would be out in God’s own country and the fresh air.

What you were not expecting was a federal marshal walking in on your first day - a day of doughnut runs and sorting paperwork - and tell you that you would be accompanying him to arrest a dangerous criminal.

In spite of yourself, the idea had a certain appeal, right up until the helicopter landed and you got your first look at the Peggie compound. Then your stomach dropped to your toes.

Almost to the second, as if he were just waiting for your cue, you heard the first strains of Disco Inferno start up and had to fight the nervous laughter, because it was actually quite comforting.

Plus, it was quite hard to concentrate on someone giving a sinister monologue when The Trammps were singing. If anything, it made you want to tap your toes. But because you weren’t paying attention, Marshall Burke’s demand that you cuff the dangerous psychopath in front of you made you leap about a foot in the air.

Things got a little blurry after that - probably due to the concussion - but there were flashes. Explosions, planes flying overhead, going off a bridge and being left for dead. Basement filing never looked so good as when you woke up in a bunker with a strange man telling you that you inadvertently put yourself directly in the middle of a holy war.

It definitely didn’t make you any happier to hear that the responsibility of restoring a little sanity had fallen directly onto your shoulders. What did help was the knowledge that an entire Resistance was standing behind you.

Several miles behind you, as it turned out.

It got easier when you started recruiting people to your side, guns for hire, Dutch called them - something that always made you feel like you were in the midst of a Clint Eastwood movie. 

Being the inveterate animal lover that you were, you went for Boomer and Peaches first. And then - even though all logic and common sense told you to get the hell out of the Henbane before Faith freaking Seed realized you were there - something else was telling you to stay. A gut feeling. 

That same feeling took you to the Moonflower Trailer Park. You weren’t sure what that feeling was, at first. At least, not until the music started and everything clicked into place. This was your soulmate. 

It…wasn’t quite the meetcute that you had in mind; there was music, and there was fire, but it wasn’t the violin music and candlelit supper of your dreams. In your dreams, you didn’t usually end up with the ends of your hair scorched beyond belief and covered in blood. 

You weren’t certain he realized it, not with the adrenaline cocktail buzzing in his veins, along with whatever other rush the fire brought him. You took a moment to study him as he danced off his nervous energy, gyrating and thrusting to disco music that was no longer playing. 

Older than you, but not too much older. Not exactly a MENSA member, but sweet, and oddly charming. The emphasis was on the odd there, and you couldn’t help but wonder what your parents would think of him. If you ever saw them again. 

As if he was only just seeing that your enthusiasm didn’t match his, he came closer, putting his hand on your shoulder to give it a little shake. “Hey, listen Po-Po, we got chemistry. I can tell, we’re going to make a great team! Like Starsky and Hutch, or Turner and Hooch.”

That got a laugh out of you, and you were grateful for the distraction. “Which one of us is Hooch?”

Sharky hesitated. “Listen, that’s not important right now. What’s important is that we get back to blasting these Peggies to hell. It’s like fate that you were coming, man; I put together a little playlist. It’s the good stuff, too. I wouldn’t share this with just anyone, but I can tell we’re going to be bueno amigos, you know?”

You liked him, you couldn’t help it. The more he talked, the more he grew on you. “Good stuff, huh? Like Donna Summers?The BeeGees? KC and The Sunshine Band?” 

As you went through the, admittedly, small number of disco artists you knew, Sharky pressed his hand to his heart. “Oh man, I knew we were going to be great together. I just knew, when I saw you, that here was a person who could truly appreciate the greatest music of all time.”

“Well, I grew up listening to it.” That hint went wide of the mark, so you decided to try again. “My soulmate loves the Trammps.”

The speed his face dropped would have been tragic, if it wasn’t so damn comical. Poor baby didn’t have a clue. 

“I am not at all surprised that someone as fine as you is taken, Shorty. He’s a very lucky man. Or she. I don’t judge. Everyone’s gotta live their best life.”

“He,” you replied. “He is very lucky. He also can’t catch a hint when it’s dropped from a great height.”

“Men,” Sharky said, with so much disgust that you couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling up in your throat. 

What a guy.

You didn’t love him, not yet - soulmate bonds didn’t work like that, and you wouldn’t want one if they did - but you liked him. A lot. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Sharky. It’s nice to finally meet you. You’re right. We’re going to make a great team.”

[jubilantwriter]

Jaspvid Week 2020:  Day 4 - Hurt/Comfort

(AO3)  @jaspvid-week

get ready for a gratuitous amounts of capslock 

Remember When They Were Bad Friends in Canon?  Well- NEVER HAPPENED.  Aha!  Oho!

Summary:  David was never good at the whole sleeping thing.  He’s been working on it, honest!  And he’s been getting better at it, even if there are some places he’s better at sleeping with than others.  But sometimes... sometimes when he falls asleep, all he wants to do is wake up.

Word Count: 3148

WARNINGS:  PTSD, Graphic Descriptions of Wounds (just to be safe)

David knows that dreams aren't real.  That the chronic nightmares that plagued his sleep as a child were nothing but the result of his fears and anxieties left unchecked and unacknowledged for so long.  He thought he'd gotten over that part of his life - sure, he still had bouts of insomnia every once in a while, especially at Camp Campbell, but he'd very rarely suffered from nightmares that had him waking up screaming bloody murder.  And it's all very rare indeed!  Gwen has only needed to wake him up a few times throughout their time working together.  

He really thought that he was finally okay.  That's what he thinks, when he looks down at hands covered in an inky red before looking back up to see Jasper, hunched over with hands trying desperately to stop the bleeding.

Jasper's bleeding.

Pained blue eyes, wide with fear as light fades fast from them, stare deep into David's own horrified greens.  

"Davey," he gasps out, before collapsing to his knees.  

"Jasper!"  He lurches forward and catches his boyfriend in his arms, and it's just a dream, just a dream, just a dream-

"You have to run!"  Jasper shoves David away as best as he can, already wheezing as blood continues to drip down his chest.  Long, deep gashes that look worse than they did years ago reveal themselves to David through a shredded t-shirt and it's just a dream just a dream just a dream-

"I'm not leaving you here!"  David grabs Jasper as he slumps forward, and it's just a dream just a dream just a DREAM-

His hands feel wet and slick and sticky and red red red-

NO.

Just a DREAM just A DREAM IT'S JUST A DREAM-

But he feels warmth, Jasper feels warm, he feels warm and wet and cold and wet and the wet feels warm and Jasper feels cold and Jasper is solid, solid in his arms and heavy and David can feel his body heave with every desperate gasp every pained shudder every wet cough-

JUST A DREAM!

JUST A DREAM JUST A DREAM JUST A DREAM JUST A DREAM-

BUT WHY DOES IT FEEL SO REAL?

His vision swims and swirls and spins and he can't see there's tears falling from his eyes real tears streaming down his cheeks as he cradles Jasper's weak body and he hears every little "plip" and every little "plop" his tears make as they land on Jasper's face-

Jasper's face Jasper's pale face Jasper's dying face and David begs begs begs to wake up, please wake up he wants to WAKE!  UP!

He doesn't want to feel like he's losing his boyfriend like he's watching the same scene replay over and over again like he's letting things repeat like he's let this happen before one time two times three million times and he doesn't want to FEEL THIS ANYMORE!

HE DOESN'T WANT TO SEE THIS ANYMORE!

WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP BLOOD ON HIS HANDS BLOOD ON HIS CHEST AND IT'S REAL AND WET AND OH GOD PLEASE WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP THIS ISN'T REAL THIS CAN'T BE REAL HE DOESN'T WANT THIS TO BE REAL WAKE-

"-UP!"  A deluge of cold water hits his face and he screams, log tossed into the air as Gwen steps back.  "David, shit!"

"I- huh- whu-?"  He pants heavily, looking wildly around the room as he tries to get his bearings.  And then he remembers blood on his hands and blood on his chest-

"Jasper- Jasper!  I have to- I gotta-"

"Woah woah woah!"  Gwen catches him just as he tumbles out of bed.  "David, deep breaths!"  Com on, with me now.  In, out..."  She guides him through a breathing exercise, calming him down just enough for David to finally make sense of where he is.

He breathes in, and he recognizes the cabin he’s in, and where this cabin is.

Camp Campbell.

He breathes out, and feels the heat all around him, hears the crickets, and recognizes what those all mean to him.

It's summertime.

And as he steadies his breathing, all his thoughts connect back to a crucial bit of information.

Jasper's at their apartment, waiting for him to come back.

Jasper's alive.  And well.  And far far far away from the forest, away from bears, away from childhood memories that still struck fear in both their hearts.

"What..."  He blinks blearily, looking out the window and realizing just how dark the sky is.  Or still is, rather.  "What time is it?"

"Three am."  Gwen rubs her temples, exhausted and sleep-deprived.  Whoops.  That was definitely his fault.  "You were shouting- well, screaming, in your sleep.  It was damn near impossible to wake you."  He looks down to see the mud-caked slippers she still has on and winces.

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize."  She waves off his guilty look but quickly grows concerned again when his shoulders still droop.  "...Listen.  I called Jasper."  

"You WHAT?"  Though peeved at his shriek, she gestures for him to settle down.  

"Fucking relax, you weren't waking up and I thought he'd have some idea for how I could wake you.  He suggested the cold water.  The bucket was all me."  David blinks before remembering that, oh right, he's currently drenched.  Gwen tosses him a towel before he can start shivering.  Just like Gwen to be prepared like this.

Although he wishes she didn't have to be prepared for this kind of situation.

"Are you gonna call him?"  Gwen watches as he dries his hair, towel now resting on his shoulders as he looks to his phone.  The device sits unplugged, probably from Gwen yanking it from its charger in her desperation to find a way to wake David.

His very instinct is to dial up Jasper's number, but the time of night makes him hesitate.

"I... probably shouldn't."  Though the thought of hearing Jasper's voice, just to hear him breathe and sigh and affirm and reaffirm that he was okay and that it really all was just a horrible nightmare, he thinks about how Jasper also gets up early in the morning to drive to work.  If he calls him now, would the brunette even have enough time to sleep?  What if he crashes his car because he stood up all night talking with and worrying over David?  Jasper shouldn't have to risk that just because David had a nightmare.  "It's late and- he needs his sleep.  He has to wake up in like, four hours."

"Don't think your boyfriend will be sleeping tonight."  Gwen sits on her bed with a tired plop.  "He heard you screaming and was about to drive over here."

"What?!"  David leaps up from his bed and lunges for his phone.  "He can't do that!  I have to make sure he stays home-"  His speed dial calls up Jasper in a second and he listens to the rings anxiously.  "He has work in the morning, and if he comes here, he won't have any sleep AND he won't have any time to drive back-!"

"I know."  Gwen's smirk graces her lips just as Jasper picks up.  "That's why I convinced him to stay home already."

"Hello?"  David's mind blanks as Jasper's worried voice carries over from the speaker.  Of course Gwen took care of that already.  She puts in some earplugs and puts on an eye mask, already turning onto her side to resume sleeping as he struggles to create words.  "Davey?  Is that you?"

"A-ah."  Well, at least she's giving him some privacy.  That's nice of her, at least.  "I.  Um."

"It's okay, take your time."  Jasper's voice soothes him from miles away, and it's enough to get him to relax just a bit.

"...Right."  He closes his eyes and breathes through his nose, exhaling from his mouth and repeating.  Jasper remains quiet, but David can hear his breathing from his side.  And it's.  It reminds him of where he is, and that everything is fine here.  It was just a dream.  "Hey, Jasp."

"Sup, homeslice."  David sits with his back against the headrest, arm hugging his knees to his chest as he listens to every sound of Jasper he can catch.  "You doing alright?"

"More or less."  He laughs weakly.  "It was just- just a bad dream.  A really bad one."  

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"I..."  Large gashes that span Jasper's chest flash in his mind.  Had they gone lower when he was first mauled by those bears...  He sucks in a breath and blinks hard, willing the tears to stay at bay.  "I don't think I can, sorry."

"That's okay."  Jasper assures him gently, and he wishes, really wishes, that Jasper was here with him right now.  It's not the first time he wishes his bed was tucked away in a corner of the room, and not just pressed against the wall.  If only so he could feel some approximation of a hug.  "...You want me to drive up there?"

"Don't do that."  Even though he desperately wants him here.  "Y-you have your job to worry about, and there's the bills and rent to pay-."

"I can take a day off, get my shift covered.  Wouldn't hurt to use up a little bit of my PTO."

"It was just a bad dream, you don't have to-."

"David."  Jasper's voice is firm but still maintains that gentleness he's held since they were kids.  "It wasn't just a bad dream."

"...Y-yeah."

"Bud, are you crying?"

"I'm not."  He sniffs and scrunches his brows together.  "...Okay, maybe a little."

"...I'm driving up there."

"No!"  David doesn't need to be there to imagine the shock on Jasper's face.  "Don't- don't come here.  Please.  Please.  Stay home."  His voice shakes and breaks as he speaks, and he's imagining Jasper in the forest, Jasper facing a bear, Jasper bleeding out and hurt-

"Shhh, okay, okay, I won't."  A gasp escapes him and, dang, he really is sobbing now.  "I'm sorry, I won't come."  He hears the distress in Jasper's voice and immediately panics.

"It's not because I don't want you here!"  He tries to wipe away his tears, but they keep coming, and god, god, he wishes Jasper was here.  Jasper could easily make his tears go away with his kisses and hugs, but Jasper being here is the last thing either of them need.  "It's just- you know, you left Camp Campbell for a reason.  And I'm not going to force you to come back here."  Just because I want you here, he thinks to himself.

"You're not forcing me to come over there but..."  He hears Jasper's weary sigh and imagines the brunette running his fingers through his hair.  "...Is this about your nightmare?"

"I..."

His hesitation is enough for Jasper.

"Okay."  The soft understanding is clear in his voice.

"Sorry."  He mumbles into the phone, feeling like an idiot.  "It's dumb- I'm dumb, I wasn't even the one who got hurt- it was you, but I'm sitting here waking everyone up because of a stupid nightmare and I wasn't even the victim, it was you and-"

"Hey hey, wanna slow down for me?"  Jasper's gentle tone has him stop long enough to breathe.  "What's this about me being the victim?"

"...You know.  The... bear attack."  There's a sharp inhale from the other side.  "It's just- it really shouldn't be me, right?  I shouldn't be the one getting nightmares about this, I don't even have the right to, I'm just-"

"You got some heavy thoughts bouncing around your headspace, my guy."  Despite David's words, Jasper still manages to chuckle.  "Listen man, what happened that day... affected both of us differently."

"...Mmmgh."

There's a creak from Jasper's side.  Like he's adjusting his position on the bed.  David closes his eyes and pretends for a second that Jasper's sitting next to him, one arm wrapped around him as he hugs him close.

"I'm not gonna lie - falling from a cliff and being attacked by bears was the most unwoke thing to have ever happened to me, like, ever."  David laughs a little, because of course Jasper would phrase it like that.  "I still hate nature, and I still hate that you're willing to go back to camp every year in spite of what happened.  But you got your own reasons.  Because that day changed you too."  He imagines Jasper leaning against him, pressing his head against David's as he lowers his tone, almost to a whisper.  "You saw me die nearly twice.  Once, when you couldn't save me from the cliff.  And the second time when you found me in the cave mauled and bleeding.  You saw my wounds and helped me back to camp.  You watched it all happen."

"Yeah, I sure did watch."  He grumbles into the phone and sighs.  "You were covered in scraps and scratches and then QM took your badge away because I used your shoes."

"To save me."  Jasper shifts again from the other side.  "Davey, you did way more than anyone else did for me that day.  And you were just a kid.  We were both kids, and you had to watch as someone your age nearly died because all the other adults barely did anything to help."  There's a slight hitch in Jasper's voice as he voices what David won't say.  "Maybe you’re not scared of bears like me, or even hate nature like me.  But Davey, that day made you so terrified of losing people.  Like, really losing them.  And that’s a real and justified and valid reaction to what happened, man.  Because you don't wanna see another kid fall from a cliff or come back covered in blood.  It messed you up real bad, even if you weren’t physically hurt like I was."

"I..."  David sighs as he thinks about what Jasper would be doing right now.  Kissing his temple?  Holding his hand?  Looking him in the eye while cupping his face?  Maybe all three, knowing his boyfriend.  "You sound a lot like my therapist."

"I'll take that as an 'I'm right' card then.  Just, don't beat yourself up just 'cause I'm the one with the physical scars.  It was a bad day for both of us.  Pretty sure if our roles were reversed, you'd be telling me not to beat myself over it too."

"I mean- yeah, I wouldn't want you to feel awful over something like this."

"Exactly."  A soft chuckle comes from Jasper as he jostles the phone.  "...Feeling better, Davey?"

"A little, yeah."  He smiles to himself as he cradles the phone close.  "I mean, as long as I can hear your voice, I think I'll be okay."

"What, just my voice?  You don't want the whole package deal?"  Jasper makes a wounded sound, drawing a small laugh from David.  "I thought you loved me!"

"I do love you, Jasp.  More than the whole world."

"...Aw, I'm blushing."  His laugh turns into a snort.  "Want a pic as evidence?  I think my selfie game is off the heezy now!"  

"As tempting as it is, I think I'll have to pass."  Jasper takes forever taking selfies.  Something about getting the angle right, then getting the right pose, then making the right face, then choosing the filters, and then he starts all over from scratch if he doesn't like it.  David would probably have passed out by the time Jasper manages to send even one selfie.  "I'd rather see you in person."  David continues to smile when he hears a soft squeak from Jasper.

...Wait.  Hold on.

"Is that an invitation?"

Oh hooey.

"No-"

"It's like, what, Friday today?  I can take the day off-"

"Jasp-"

"-It's no big deal, I'm good at faking being sick-"

"Jasp-"

"-Rent a room at that dank motel, it's a motel right?  All I know is that it's got rooms I can rent, and then we can be alone-"

"Jasper, oh my god!"  He covers his mouth to stifle his laugh, but the chortle comes out all the same.  "I still have to do my job!"

"Fair, fair.  But I can just wait for you.  Maybe sneak out during your lunch or something, give me a kiss on your breaks like I'm a prince waiting for a ride-by smooch from his knight in shining armor."

"You're being ridiculous!"

"Am I?"  He can easily picture Jasper wiggling his eyebrows on his face.  "Or am I just happy to hear you laugh?"

"Both."  His laughter subsides as it turns into a content hum.  "...I really love you, Jasp."

"I love you too, sunshine."  David giggles at the nickname as Jasper laughs along with him.  "I'll see you on the weekend then?"

"Alright."  It's not like he can stop Jasper once the man's made up his mind.  And... he really would like to see him again soon. 

"Most excellent, my dude."  

"Ah jeez."  He shakes his head as Jasper laughs again.  "I can't believe you're really coming up here."

"Anything to see your dorky smile."

"You're the dork!"  David rubs at his face, the little trails left by his tears now dried up and gone.  "...Um, Jasp?"

"Hm?"

"Thanks.  For.  Just talking with me."  He smiles against his knees, a light blush on his cheeks even if Jasper can't see him.  "It really means a lot to me."

"...Of course, Davey.  I know you'd do the same for me.  Hell, you already do!"  A sleepy smile matches the sweet laughter on the other side.  "It's getting late.  I'm gonna call in sick and take a nap.  You get some sleep too, alrighty?"

"Mhm."  Warmth blossoms in his chest as he gets up to grab his sleeping log.  "I can't wait to see you."

"Same, homey.  It's lonely without your goofiness to make things bright again."  

"Okay, I'm cutting this off before this continues any longer."  Jasper chuckles on his end before sighing.

"Right, have sweet dreams, Davey."

"You too, Jasp."

"That's easy when all I gotta do is think of you!"

"Jeez- good night, Jasper!"

"Night, Davey!"

He hangs up the call, a soft smile on his face as he giggles to himself.

Right.

It was just a dream.  A bad, awful, horrible dream, sure.  But it was just a dream.  Because Jasper is still here.  Being his goofy, lovable self.  And he'll get to see him on the weekend!  

So maybe he hasn't quite gotten over it as he'd hoped.  But... that's okay, in a sense.  He's not dealing with it by himself.

He never was.

He plugs his phone back in to charge and sighs as the time flashes up at him.

Well, two hours of sleep isn't so bad!

As he curls up on his bed, avoiding the damp parts of it in favor of the drier parts, he thinks he'll take a note from Jasper's methods.

And for those two hours.

He'll just have sweet dreams of Jasper.

[shanklin]

The Gargoyle (2/?)

Filbrick angers a witch, gets cursed and gains two sons. One is special and has twelve fingers. The other is a gargoyle.

Chapter Summary: Shermie meets his new little brother and things are pretty great until a monster attacks.

Chapter [1] [3] [4] [5]

Read it on Ao3

Chapter Warnings: Filbrick Pines, Misogyny, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Violence Against A Baby Gargoyle

Wordcount: 1796

Author’s Note:

I really thought I would go with the whole "Shermie was the baby in the flashback"-thing, but Shermie disagreed and I'm weak for older brothers.

...writing "Stan" instead of "Ford" feels so wrong. Let's hope Ford gets his proper name soon

2. Enter Shermie

“So, what do you think, Doctor Thunderman?” Shermie stretches his arm towards the yellow ceiling lights and admires the freshly formed clay figure standing proudly on the coffee table above him. He’s lying upside down on the couch, most of his upper body already on the floor and can’t be bothered to get up. “How long do people typically wait until they call the police, when their parents disappear under mysterious circumstances?”, he asks the figure. “I am certain your parents are fine, young Sherman. They are simply tending to some adult business like doing taxes or buying curtains. You have absolutely nothing to worry about.”

Shermie tries changing his voice to sound more like a superhero and fails miserably. He lets out a frustrated scream and kicks the couch knocking over a pillow. This is stupid. Here he is, alone at home for the first time in forever and all he can do is worry about Ma. His dad doesn’t care, but his mom always leaves him a note with an outrageous lie behind before she goes out . And lie or no lie, at least Shermie always knows she’s safe and will return soon.

Today however, all Shermie was left with is an empty house, a closed up shop and a strange wet puddle on the floor. He briefly considered leaving the puddle for the police as evidence in case some evil aquatic sea creature had kidnapped his parents, but he quickly dispelled that thought. Dad would have his head, if he left it there and let it ruin the floor.

The unmistakable rattle of his father’s car echoes through the night and Shermie jumps up, panicked. Actually Dad would have his head for a lot of things right about now, namely the state of the living room and the fact that he should’ve gone to bed hours ago. Not good, not good, not good.

With a big swoop Shermie picks up as many craft supplies as he can from the coffee table and runs into his room, hiding them in a box under his bed. If his dad finds out he still plays around with such childish things, he’s done for and so are his supplies.

On his second run he carefully picks up his Doctor Thunderman figure, mindful not to disturb the wet clay. He rarely has the time or the money to build something like this and he doesn’t want his efforts to go to waste. The car quiets down. He has to hurry! Shermie takes his sleeves and wipes the table clean as best as he can, hoping his father won’t look too closely at it tonight. And then he’ll just have to sneak out in the morning and clean it properly. With some luck no one will ever know. He hears footsteps. There’s no more time left. 

Shermie throws one last pillow back on the couch, turns the lights off, and tiptoes into his bed.

The front door creaks open and the lights turn on. His parents start muttering, but Shermie can’t make out anything. He probably shouldn’t risk it, but his curiosity wins and he sneaks up to the door to eavesdrop on his parents. He’s pretty sure his father wouldn’t think of checking on him anyway, so he’s very likely safe from being discovered. Much to his chagrin however, as soon as he reaches the door his ears are met with nothing but silence.

Then, suddenly, a cry. Shrill and high pitched and undeniable coming from a baby. Shermie is so surprised, he jumps up and promptly hits his head on the doorknob, adding his own cries to the baby’s. No point in hiding anymore. Shermie opens the door sheepishly and is met with his father’s disapproving stare. He gulps. “Err, welcome home?” To his astonishment his dad just grunts displeased and leaves for the bedroom muttering something about buying earplugs. Today must be his lucky day! Grinning, Shermie scans the room for his mom and finds her leaning back in her armchair with a small noisy bundle in her arms. She looks pale and exhausted, but waves him over with a smile. “Come here, Sweety, and say hello to your little brother.” Shermie gives Ma a quick hug and eyes the baby. “Woah, he’s so ugly!” The words slip out of his mouth before he can think them over, but he stands by them. If Shermie didn’t know better, he’d even say, his parents brought home some weird mutated worm with the face of a small grandpa. Ugly, but still strangely lovable. His mother chuckles and caresses the baby’s face gently.

“He is, isn’t he? The ugliest baby in the whole of New Jersey! But you know what they say, the uglier the baby, the cuter the child.” Shermie eyes his mom sceptically. “Noone says that.” “Well I do.” Ma replies and pinches his cheeks. “And look how cute you turned out to be in the end.” “Ouch.” Shermie strokes his abused face, pouting. “So what’s his name?” “Stan Filbrick Pines. Your father insisted on the second part.” Ma answers, rolling her eyes. Shermie winces internally. Unlike with him, Pa seems to already have very high expectations for his little brother. Shermie will have to make sure this little one will turn out alright despite their father’s meddling. No way he’ll let his dad turn his brother into a stoic copy of himself. Deciding to make a good first impression, Shermie stands up straight and takes the baby’s hand in his in a careful, but firm handshake. “Nice to meet you, Stan Pines! I’m Shermie, your older brother. I might not be good at punching and won’t be able to help you much with school, but I know how to have fun and will always be there when you need me, so please never hesitate to ask for my help, okay?” Feeling pleased with his impromptu speech, Shermie moves to let go of his brother's hand, but is met with a refusal to separate. Instead, the baby grasps Shermie’s finger, surprising him.

“Ma, Ma, look!” Shermie exclaims excitedly, waving his captured finger from side to side. “He must’ve understood you and wants to say hello back.” “You think so?” Shermie grins. Ma nods and smiles to herself. “Now, Shermie, before you go to sleep, why don’t you count your brother’s fingers for me?” A confused “What?” escapes him, but he obliges at his mother’s urging , feeling a bit foolish to do so. One, two, thre- “NO WAY! THIS IS SO COOL!” Shermie exclaims forgetting himself in the moment. His brother must be some kind of future superhero!

“Does the finger have any superpowers?” “Oh yes.” Ma answers mysteriously. Shermie is bouncing with excitement. So cool, so cool! “Well…” , she starts, dragging the word out. “Time for you to go to bed. Shoo shoo!” “What? No, no tell me!” Shermie whines, but is interrupted by his father screaming “QUIET!”  from the other room.

Shermie flinches, though his mood isn’t dampened much. He kisses his mother goodnight and goes to sleep grinning like crazy. Being an older brother is going to be great!

***

The next couple of days are filled with much excitement and very little sleep. As punishment for staying up too late Pa makes Shermie work in the shop until he finds himself a job for the summer. “You’re fourteen already, Sherman. Old enough to stop being useless and make us some money.”

And when Shermie is home, he’s doing his best to help his mom around the house. Ma worries him. He doesn’t know much about babies or giving birth for that matter, but since she came back from the hospital she’s been acting off. “I’m fine, Shermie. Just a bit tired. You know that Stan doesn’t like letting us sleep at night.” Ma says every time he asks her about it and then changes the subject. There is some truth in her answer. Sleep is a luxury his little brother refuses to let them indulge in, but that doesn’t change his mother’s condition. Shermie knows she’s not alright. When she thinks no one is watching, Ma looks terribly distraught and he’s pretty sure he saw her crying over Stan’s crib just this morning. He tried to confront her about it, but she simply brushed him off with a joke and rushed off to the bathroom. That night Shermie lies awake for a long time, even though Stan is blessedly quiet for once. His mom refuses to tell him anything and asking his dad for help is out of the question. “Your mother is fine. Women cry without reason all the time. You’re embarrassing me with your worrying. Are you a girl now, too?”

There’s no one else Shermie can talk to. He’s not really that close with any of his school friends and he doubts they would understand even if he tried to explain.

His worries get periodically interrupted by shuffling and scratching from above the ceiling. Some rodent must’ve found its way up onto the roof and decided to team up with Stan in keeping them awake at night. Shermie groans and rolls on his side, pressing a pillow over his ears. He would give everything to have an older brother of his own right about now.

***

A shrill scream. Shermie startles awake. Ma, something is wrong! He stumbles out of bed and runs through the door nearly falling over his own two feet. His mom is trembling in front of the nursery, holding Stan protectively against her chest. She doesn’t notice him, her eyes fixated on something inside the room. “Caryn, stay back!” Pa yells, storming into the nursery, a table lamp in his hand. Shermie’s heart is pounding like crazy and in all his confusion he nearly misses his mom collapsing, but fortunately he manages to support her just in time to prevent any serious injuries as she falls to the floor, her legs too weak to support herself.

Inside the nursery Pa swings the lamp at the creature hovering on top of Stan’s crib. It’s too dark to make out any details, except for two big glowing eyes staring straight at his baby brother. Shermie can only stare in awe as the thing opens what appear to be a set of huge batlike wings and gets ready to charge.

It’s motion, however, is interrupted by his father’s attack and the creature catapulted out of the open window.

Ma’s pleas of “No, Filbrick, please! Don’t hurt him!” fall on deaf ears as the sound of wailing and stone crashing into stone echos through the night. Next Chapter

[sarahsdiary]

My Struggle with mental health

My struggle with mental illness. I don't know if anyone will read this, if you do, please be patient and considerate. Also please excuse spelling mistakes or grammatical errors I am not a native English speaker. I want to introduce myself first: My name is Sarah and I am a 17-year-old girl from Germany. In my perspective mental illness isn't really accepted here, at least where I am from. I live in a tiny village in Rhineland-Palatinate. I consider myself Pansexual and I am happy with that but my parents always speak ill of gay people and don't even know that there are other things that you can identify yourself as. They also don't believe that I can be sad because "I have no reason to be". I consider myself as a Christian, even if they are not, I work in the YMCA/CVJM and they don't accept that either, they always make mean comments and ask me things, knowing that I can´t answer them like "What happened in Moses 5 chapter 3" and when I tell them, that I don't know they look at me and say "Shouldn't you as a Christian know that?". But I am already used to that. What I will never get used to, is the fact, that my mother body-shames me. A lot. When I wear high-rise pants and feel good, she asks me if I want to wear a longer shirt, because you can see to much of my lower-body. When I ask her how I look in a skirt she just pulls a face and says "You are just to fat, you should eat less". When I decide to wear it nonetheless, she makes mean comments the whole day. My father just lets it happen. My sister who is a lot older lives far away from us and when I visited her, I wore the skirt that my mother didn't like and she hyped me up so much that I felt confident and when I came home my mom asked me, what my sister said about the skirt, and I answered she said, that she wasn't able to understand my sister's opinion. The same day I wanted to bake cakes in the late evening because my birthday was the next day. And I did my thing, listening to NF (It just was one of those days). I was doing really well until both of my parents came into the kitchen and tried to change my plan on what I was doing and when I replied and said, that I wanted to keep doing it like I had planned, they started to scream at me. They complained about my music and they complained about me, I was unbelievable and that I should follow their suggestions or else it would end terribly. I now was really sad and continued to listen to my music with headphones, so that I wasn't able to hear them talking badly about me and so that they couldn't hear my music. I was crying the whole time but really quietly. When my mom came in the kitchen to do something, she tapped me on the shoulder to get my attention, When I took out the earplug she said "You look even uglier when you cry". I finished the cakes and put them in the fridge for the following day. My friends and I wanted to video chat through the night, so that we could "party" into my birthday, but I was so sad that I texted them and told them that I had stress at home and that I didn't want to chat anymore, and they were so nice about it. They even stayed up and texted me at 00:00. Moving on: Whenever I was injured or hurt myself in my childhood my parents wouldn't take me to the doctors, even if I complained. I once ripped a muscle and complained a lot. When they finally took me to the doctors, after a week ( I even did PE) they screamed at me, in the doctor's office, why I didn't tell them, that I hurt myself. When I was younger I was able to run a lot, I could jog 90 minutes without break or drinking water, but in the eighth grade we went on a class trip to England and when we were in London we walked 27km (approximately 17 miles). In the evening, my joints were swollen and my legs and stomach were bruised blue, my feet were so swollen I barely got the socks off. In Germany we got that checked out after I showed my sister pictures of how bad I looked. My father took me to a specialist, he diagnosed me with Löfgren Syndrom. I was 13 so I didn't fully understand it, still don't. Today it still hurts when I walk and my hands and my feet get swollen easily. I am terrified of doing school sport because people don't really understand. I once did a test for a grade and collapsed while having a panic attack because I couldn't focus on anything else than my pain. My parents still don't believe me when I say that it hurts, they tell me, that I should just exercise more so that it would go away, but that is not how it works. After a long day of walking, I am exhausted and have trouble falling asleep. The next morning I can barely get out of bed because of how much pain I am in. So when anyone asks me how I am, I say "Good, how are you?". I don't tell them that I think that I might have a mental illness, or that I am doing terrible. According to my parents, I can't be mentally ill. How could I? When you body-shame me when you don't accept that I am in pain, when you make fun of my belives when you clown my taste in music, clothes, anything, when you make fun of gay people, not knowing that I am in the closet myself.  when you scream at me for nothing, and then tell me I look horrible when I cry, when you tell me that I am obligated to do something, because I am your daughter. I didn't ask to be born, you brought me into this world.

[honestandsincere]

when the party’s over

“Oh my god, Grayson! That’s so funny!” the painfully high-pitched squeal permeates the thin wall between their bedrooms. “Uh, yeah I guess it is, Lindsey.” she can hear him laugh almost uncomfortably. “You’re so funny!” “I’m glad you think so, have you-” Y/n can’t stick any more, throwing her measly pillow over her head and burying her face into the bedsheets. This has become the norm; listening to Grayson attempt to coax some form of conversation out of the girls he’d bring home from frat parties, cringing at their lack of response and praying to every mentally conceivable diety that they would just shut up.

Grayson Dolan knows these walls are thin. He’d stood in his room with the door closed and managed to have a lengthy discussion with y/n about that week’s weather predictions through the pathetic plasterwork on the day they’d moved in. He knows she can hear him. Part of her wants to think that maybe Grayson’s assuming that she’s a heavy sleeper, that she dozed off halfway through reading Anna Karenina because he knows how much she despises Tolstoy’s seemingly interminable passages about agriculture. But this is Grayson and y/n knows that she’s the last thing on his blatantly preoccupied mind. He’s got Lindsey all up in his business and that’s far more of a priority than y/n’s eight hours of rest. She understands this now.

It’s not even that late. She had been surprised when she’d heard the key turn in the lock and the reverberations of drunken stumbles that traveled into his room. Grayson usually stays out late on Saturdays. He revels in the sweaty closeness of fraternity dancefloors and is resident Keg King of Delta Beta Gamma and therefore has no reason to want to come home until the despondent early hours of the morning. Lindsey must have changed his mind. Y/n had tried to put a face to her voice, but it was indistinguishable. She couldn’t determine whether that made things better or worse. Y/n thinks that she has blonde hair, just because she sounds like she does, and maybe blue eyes. Lindsey’s probably really pretty because Grayson is also really pretty and pretty people have a tendency to attract pretty people. Y/n doesn’t understand why she’s making herself feel sick. This happens every week, you’d think maybe she’d consider investing in earplugs. But with each Saturday that rolls around y/n has to stamp on the embers of hope that maybe Grayson won’t bring home a girl this time. Their voices have become inaudible murmurs, but Lindsey’s squeaks are still definable. Y/n screws her eyes shut, willing sleep to overtake her queasy body before she starts crying. But not over Grayson. Y/n’s determined to never let Grayson Dolan be the source of her tears. They’re friends, have been seen Orientation Week and will continue to be provided that nothing catastrophic intervenes. He’d asked her to move into an apartment with Ethan, his brother, and Cassie one of their close friends during the second year. Y/n assumed that living with Grayson would be relatively easy, considering they’d been so close for the first year. But closeness sometimes transpires into an intense feeling of attachment, or maybe something that stretches beyond that. Y/n is certain she has no feelings that could be deemed romantic for Grayson. This is mostly because he is Grayson; the boy that projectile vomited onto her brand new converse at his first college party. He’d apologized profusely and y/n had forgiven him almost instantaneously having watched him be coerced into taking far too many shots that night. Grayson just wanted to fit in.

Grayson is no more than an annoyingly attractive, overly sentimental best friend. He loves a lot and is loved just as much, if not more. Y/n thinks this is a curse wrapped neatly in blessing-covered wrapping paper. He’s too lovable and people sometimes decide to monopolize on this. She wants to protect him from those that want to be near him for the sake of saying they’d been near him, from the girls that’ll string a web of perfect lies to end up in his bed. Y/n can see right through. She can also hear right through, being able to decipher every Saturday night or Sunday morning conversation he has. Y/n knows that Grayson wants more than sex, she can hear him beg for some kind of interesting debate or a conversation that surpasses the trivialities he’s given in reply. She forces herself to sleep before she hears any more, dreading to think what hearing him actually doing it would make her feel.

Y/n doesn’t want Grayson, but thinking about him being with someone else is almost agonizing. She assumes it’s just a jealous fad because he’s her best friend and she wants to be his best friend too. Yet introspectively, y/n understands that Grayson is far more than a friend. He’s never really been a friend. He eclipsed the point at which friendship seems an appropriate term to label their relationship. They’d met at Orientation Week, stumbling into one another as they drifted from stall to stall that had been set up in the Student Union. Grayson wanted to speak to the lacrosse team and y/n had wanted to ask a question - which looking back seemed incredibly inconsequential - to the student finance team when they collided. A string of apologies and a few snide comments about the state of their timetables later, they’d become friends. Things stayed that way for a while until fraternity parties suddenly existed and the need to get blackout inebriated transcended every academic priority. Grayson had spotted y/n across the living room of some frat house Ethan knew the name of one night. He’d staggered over to her with his vision swimming and a gratifying numbness weighing down his limbs.

“Y/n!” he slurred, catching himself on one of the damp walls as he tripped over his own feet, “Didn’t expect to see you here.” “Hi, Grayson,” she laughed at his sudden ability to look perfectly composed, “You having fun?” “Nah, not really,” he lied, “Just been looking for you all night.” “Oh really?” y/n wasn’t stupid. “Yeah, so happy you’re here, y/n. Makin’ my dreams come true!” “Whatever you say.” “Not even joking! Not even a little! You’re the funniest person here, except for Ethan and I’m funny too sometimes! But you’re witty, y/n. I like witty people.” “That’s cool.” He threw a ridiculously muscular arm over her shoulders and pulled her into his chest, placing a kiss to the crown of her head, “You’re so precious, y/n.”

Y/n quickly became Grayson’s favorite person to accidentally run into at parties, he’d always get up onto his tiptoes and scan the room in search for her. She’d always wear the prettiest dresses or the cutest little tops with her favorite pair of jeans. He’d always wear dress pants stolen from Ethan or khakis and really soft t-shirts that she’d always have her face pressed into when he’d greet her. That was their thing, being around each other when they were drunk. Sometimes he was worse than she was, stumbling falteringly around the place with her arm wrapped around his waist to keep him from toppling over. Other times she’d be stood in front of him, his arms wrapped around her middle and her head lolling back onto his shoulder as they stood outside watching their friends of friends puff little rings of smoke into the night air.

“I think it’s always gonna be me and you, y’know?” he mumbled one night after they’d escaped the third playing of Rack City to join the stoners in the garden of some random senior’s house. “Yeah?” she’d hiccupped in reply. “Yep, always gravitate towards you and you towards me. I don’t ever see us not being...” then he stopped speaking. He knew what he was about to say but he didn’t want to say it. Y/n was far too intoxicated to understand the situation, “Besties?” “Yeah, that’s it. Besties.” Every night had ended the same. Grayson would lead her to her group of friends, whispering a joke or sarcastic comment into her ear. “Call me when you’re back safe, yeah?” he’d always ask. 

Until he didn’t.

Y/n isn’t too sure at what point Grayson changed. Drunken giggles have deteriorated into friendly acknowledgments when they run into each other in fraternity kitchens. She’s still his best friend, they laugh together at Ethan’s pathetic attempts at DIY. They go out for breakfast at the cafe at the end of their street every Friday morning. She proofreads his essays and he quizzes her with flashcards. It’s this unspoken yet mutually recognized affair that festers under the surface of every sentence they speak to one another. Ethan and Cassie have noticed it too. Y/n and Grayson are close but not close enough. From the outside, everything looks normal; they could be snuggled under a blanket on the couch watching a travel documentary one evening but as soon as y/n leaves Grayson visibly tenses. When he’s doing the dishes and y/n walks into the kitchen for a bottle of water, she lifts up her hands as if to hug him from behind, hesitates, and leaves. Y/n doesn't know it but things shifted about a month into their second year of college. It was a Tuesday, which is usually uneventful compared to most days of the week. Grayson was sprawled out on the couch playing solitaire when the front door had opened. Y/n had sauntered into the living room followed by a rather tall lanky looking boy with tousled brown hair and glasses that made him look like he could quote Nietzsche verbatim. "Gray, this is Nat." she declared excitedly, her red tea dress flowing about her thighs with the soft blows of the fan he'd set up, "He's helping me with that Lit module I was telling you about." Grayson looked up from his virtual card game and grimaced, lifting his hand into an understated wave, "Hey, man." "Hi," Nat had said with what Grayson liked to think was a disgustingly patronizing smirk, "This is a nice place you've got." "Thanks-" "Nat's a senior, Gray." y/n had interrupted breathlessly, turning to look at the older boy with a grin Grayson wished he had caused, "He's majoring in Literature and Philosophy. Joint honors!" "That's dope." Grayson nodded along, not being able to comprehend why y/n was so enthralled. "Thank you, y/n here is quite the enthusiast." Nat chuckled, wrapping his arm around y/n's shoulders and pulling her to his side. That was Grayson's thing. "I can't help it! We're gonna go work now, see you later!" she'd taken the senior by his arm and lead him out of the living room. "Enjoy solitaire!" Nat had called over his shoulder.

This was a feeling Grayson wasn't that accustomed to. This was a new burning sensation that pulsed through his veins. He felt his jaw clench and his thumbs ran over the white of his knuckles. This epiphany had struck Grayson in waves, the first being anger. He couldn't understand why his best friend was enraptured with Nietzsche 2.0 and didn't want to analyze him even further to try and it out. It was in this moment that Grayson understood that y/n wasn't really his, nor was he y/n's. Of course, they were best friends and would always have an affinity for one another. That was a given at this point, wherever she was is where he wanted to be. But, in being friends they were offered the option of mixing with other people, having other people.

The concept of being with a girl hadn't crossed Grayson's mind all year until y/n had waltzed in with Nat. Subconsciously he must have assumed that he and y/n would eventually see sense and become romantically exclusive because he's certain there's nobody else that will ever eclipse her. Grayson now made the conscious decision to let y/n breathe, because clearly, that's what she wanted to do. So Grayson Dolan distanced himself from his best friend, calculating his every gesture or word towards her or every thought about her, making them strictly platonic. He figured this was best for them, to avoid him being hurt by y/n making new connections and taking his anger out on their friendship. Because that's all this was; a friendship. Regardless of the way she looked at him when her eyes were glazed over with drunkenness or the way she'd laugh at one of his cheesy jokes he'd read off a pack of cookies or the way he constantly wanted to be around her, they were friends. Y/n didn't notice these changes at first. She was so absorbed in her schoolwork and papers that days merged into weeks and fitting in hours of sleep became a challenge. Grayson was still part of her life, as were Ethan and Cassie, so things felt blissfully normal. Until she got invited to a party at one of the fraternities the twins knew relatively well. Ethan and Grayson had arrived earlier than her and Cass, so she was expecting to find her lumbering, tipsy mess of a best friend when she got there. However, Grayson was nowhere to be found. He wasn't on the dancefloor begging whoever was in charge of the aux chord to just play one Kid Cudi song, even if it was Day 'n' Nite. She couldn't find him in the kitchen handing out water bottles to the freshmen boys that looked worse for wear. Y/n even searched upstairs, walking in on many an intimate encounter. "E! Where is he?" She'd yelled over the pounding EDM music when she'd spotted his twin. "He's gone home," Ethan had winced before he disclosed the last morsel of information, "He's taken a girl home." Y/n was in shock. Grayson didn't take girls home. He stayed until the party was over then stumbled into her bedroom with a glass of water at five in the morning, begging for a cuddle. Y/n had forgotten that Gray wanted other girls. It is impossible to disregard the fact other girls want Grayson. Their eyes follow him wherever he goes, watching his every effortless move with sheer awe. He’s gorgeous and funny and kind and she knows that’s what makes him so undeniably attractive to everyone around him. But never once did it occur to her that maybe Grayson wanted other people as much as they want him.

That was the first night y/n heard almost every word that was shared next door to her when she’d returned home after throwing up in the seedy bathroom of the fraternity. She’d put on her earphones and forced herself not to think about what was occurring on the other side of the plaster. Y/n hadn’t cried that night, she is still strangely proud of it. Little does she know that the last thing Grayson Dolan wants to do with the girls he brings home is to sleep with them. He wants to want to. He wants to stop comparing their every detail to y/n’s because she’s unattainable and too good to be his. Grayson feels sick every time a girl tried to initiate anything with him, apologizing profusely and explaining that it’s not her, it’s him. He feels like a dick. Yet every Saturday night without fail, the girl he brought home leaves quietly through the front door after he calls her a cab and tells her that she’ll find Mr. Right eventually.

“Lindsey,” he says after a while of awkward silence, “I’m not in the mood for anything tonight.” “I kinda guessed,” the brunette girl sat beside him on his bed laughs softly. “I’m so sorry-” “Jesus, Grayson don’t apologize!” He turns to look at her, his eyes filled with exhaustion, “Thank you for understanding it’s just I-” “I know.” “Sorry?” “You like someone else, it’s obvious. It’s ok, I get it.” Grayson doesn’t have the energy to argue, he’s tired of pretending. “I’ll call a cab.” Lindsey smiles, elbowing him gently in the ribs. “No, I’ll get you an Uber.” he reaches for his phone. “Thanks, Grayson.” “No worries.”

There’s an awkward silence as he fiddles with the brightness of his screen because it’s making his eyes sore. “She loves you too,” Lindsey says, “Everyone can see it.” “Huh?” “Don’t play dumb. The way she looks at you says it all.” “Things are a bit too complicated right now.”

“Only when you get in your own way.”

Ok! So this was a little random lovechild of mine that sort of spawned from songs that kinda make me a bit emo. It definitely feels like a part one of something to me. Hope you enjoyed it! Exam season is just around the corner and if any of you are from the UK, you’ll be aware of the insufferable pain that is A-Level induced. I’m going to try and balance writing and studying though, just because it’s so rewarding seeing all your support and getting lovely little messages from you all! So thank you so much! Lots of love - K x

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

This is the Life: Eleven

Bucky looked up from his bowl of cereal and paused. You were walking through the dining room, dressed for a funeral. It made his chest hurt.

The black dress covers most of your body, like most of the things you wear and you have a black hat in your other hand. The one not clutching tightly to your bag. There’s a car waiting for you outside and you pause at the door, swallowing hard.

Bucky makes himself stay still. You’d said you didn’t want a fuss. You wanted to be left alone to deal with the things you needed to deal with privately. Nat stands slowly and crosses the floor, “You don’t have to do this alone,” she said softly.

“Yes, I do,” you say taking a deep breath, “If I show up with Avengers at my back all I’ll do is scatter everyone.” Natasha nods, “I’ll be here when you get back.” You nod and accept her kiss on your cheek before going to get into the car. Bucky can’t watch you go. Not knowing where you’re going. 

“I wonder what protocol is,” Tony mused idly, passing Wanda a tissue. The younger girl can hear what’s happening in your mind. Nat sighed, “They cremate the bodies,” she said, “Scatter the ashes in moving water... Trying to keep HYDRA from being able to do anything with the remains.” Steve frowned, “A little drastic, isn’t it?”

Bucky watched the car pull away, “Do you blame them?” he asked. 

“No,” Steve admitted.

No one could. Not after everything that all of you had had to face.

_______

Bucky watches you walk back up the gravel drive. You look exhausted and hollow. You hesitate in front of the doors and take yourself to sit on a bench, closing your eyes and turning your face to the wind. He takes a deep breath and follows you, sitting next to you.

He doesn’t speak, he just sits. Trying to offer you a little comfort. Any comfort. You’d said there were 34 of you. Now only 20. That was a lot of empty chairs at Christmas. A lot of people you couldn’t call. Your fingers wrap around his gently and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Come here, sweetheart?” he tries, holding his arms out.

You nod and snuggle against his side, hiding your face in his chest. You don’t cry. There’s nothing left to come out. And Bucky doesn’t talk, he hums softly, the soft rumble of his melody under your cheek making you wrap your arms around him more firmly. He hugs you close and rocks you gently. Eventually, his warmth and the exhaustion of the day win out and he feels you relax into sleep, fingers curled around his shirt. He lifts you up carefully, his lips brushing your hair tenderly as he shifts your weight to carry you more easily. When you fuss sleepily, he shushes you and smiles a little, “Just gonna put you to bed, okay?” he said softly.

He doesn’t want to lay you down. He doesn’t want to surrender you to the piles of blankets and pillows. You’re sound asleep, head against his heart. He doesn’t want to wake you. He knows what it’s like. For sleep to be the only respite you get. Wanda had told him that the things she heard in your mind were intense. That they gave her whiplash as you struggled to cope with the constant deluge of emotions. She’d told him that more than once, she’d heard you wish you could die. 

He laid you carefully on your bed and you whimper, making his heart twist. “I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs, tucking blankets around you. You open your eyes and look up at him, “I’m sorry,” you tell him.

“For what?” he says gently, sitting on the edge of your bed.

You take his hand again, “I know you won’t hurt me,” you tell him, “I just... I can’t.”

“I know,” Bucky soothed, “I know. It’s okay. You’re hurt. And sad. And scared. I know what that feels like, Y/N. You take all the time you need. Just don’t shut me out, Doll. Let me help?”

You make a soft miserable noise and he kisses the hand he’s holding, “I know,” he said, “you don’t ask for help. I’m not telling you to ask. I’m telling you to just let me be here. Let me take care of you for now. What can it hurt, sweetheart?”

It takes a moment but you nod and hold your arms out to him, wanting him to stay. Not wanting to be alone. “Alright,” he says softly, gently pulling you into his arms and laying you against his chest, “this I can do. You go back to sleep, Y/N. I’ll be here.”

“The nightmares won’t stop,” you whisper, “sometimes I scream.”

Bucky kisses your head, “I know. I have earplugs, okay? Don’t you worry your pretty little head, sweetheart.”

“James,” you murmur, snuggling against his chest, “Please don’t go.”

He can hear the anxiety. He can feel it in the sound of your voice and he rubs your neck, “I’m not leaving,” he said, “I been tryin’ to get you to myself for a while.” You snort and he smiles softly, “Just sleep, Y/N.”

His fingers slide easily through your hair and he hums to himself, lulling you back to sleep. He can hear the words to the song he’s humming in his head. Soft and sweet. He wants to slow dance with you to this song. He doesn’t even know if you dance, but this song. He likes this song.

Stars shining bright above you Night breezes seem to whisper I love you Birds singing in the sycamore tree Dream a little dream of me.

Say night-ie night and kiss me Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me While I'm alone and blue as can be Dream a little dream of me.

Stars fading but I linger on, dear Still craving your kiss I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear Just saying this.

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you But in your dreams whatever they be Dream a little dream of me.

This song makes him think of you. The life he thought about building with you, late at night when he couldn’t sleep. In the wee hours of the morning when his own nightmares jerked him awake. But now, holding you as you slept, he couldn’t think of the future. All there was, was now. And this, this is the life. 

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