#you know when i was a kid i used to just read into the night until either my dad woke up to go to work ( @4) or id fall asleep myself

[luvvixu]

mind over matter pt. 4

synopsis: witness how your marriage was bound to fall apart with you on the front seat and your husband gojo had missed the show—now, he gotta figure out the story on his own.

content: arrange marriage au, angst, husband!gojo, mean!gojo, mention of blood, strong languages, some unsettling scenarios, emotional trauma, read at your own risk

a/n: ok, im such a bad author now huhu, i always broke my promises about updating the new chapter :((( should've just wrote in advance but i'm afraid i don't have that enough free time oqsjjanswjaj anyways, here's the anticipated chapter!! THANK YOU FOR Y'ALL PATIENCE <3 MWUHEHEHHEEHHE

previous / masterlist / next

the next day comes and you've got yourself some visitors. megumi, yuuji, nobara, maki, and inumaki was in your room and they were all seated around you as you talk.

panda and your two third years were not around at the moment because this is a non-sorcerer hospital and people would freak out to see a big ‘talking’ panda. during your two third years, they were out of town and were on a mission but they still text you to get well and even send you some fresh flowers.

“wait, i still can't believe that he's your husband.” nobara couldn't explain his shock at the revelation. out of all, she didn't think that her goofy teacher was someone's husband.

you chuckled at her reactions as you turned your gaze on megumi, who's still his mouth hanging. “megumi, i thought you're getting a hint?” you tease the boy. although it was true, you actually thought he already had an idea because you've known him for almost his entire life and even once lived with you as a kid.

“no…” was only his answer.

“so, gojo-sensei was the one you're talking about when you said that he was a busy man. most of his job requires being out of town. but he never fails to shower you with love and he is making sure that you two would still communicate despite his busy schedule?” your eyes widened when yuuji literally just said what you had said from before, word-by-word!

“i—i supposed he is.” everyone in the room sweat dropped at your answer.

what do you mean you supposed?!

“y/n-sensei, is it okay if we ask your baby?” maki chooses the gentlest approach because she heard that post-pregnancy can make the mother quite crikey, sensitive, and is prone to depression. but to her relief, you respond to her warmly.

“oh, the baby is being treated since they're premature. i really can't wait to meet them once i get better. but right now, shoko was the only one who had seen my baby.” you smiled softly at the thought of your baby.

“gojo-sensei still hadn't seen the baby?” maki’s eyes went wide.

you nodded. “yeah, he said we should go together so i must heal quickly for that to happen.”

the door suddenly opened and it revealed your husband with food in his hand. you smiled at the packages not because you're hungry, but because you had finally persuaded satoru to go out and leave you even for just a few minutes.

how did you do it? well, you just give him an earful after what he did yesterday night and he's like;

“i don't know how you did it but you should've just gone to the convenience store or the hospital canteen just for an oatmeal and eggs. and look, i'm not upset over the fact that you just had the ‘very easy to get’ food delivered on this doorstep. what concerns me is you seem not to trust me very well to handle myself— well in fact i've been doing it since i was a kid and blah, blah, blah, blah…” it was your turn to yap but a little longer than he did. you even probably bought up some of his minor mistakes like not taking out the trash on random sunday night.

and he was like, “i'm sorry. i won’t do it again ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀)”

“y'all done backstabbing me?” satoru teasingly smiled at you all.

“oh, we're just getting started. so why don't you take a seat and hear us out?” you patted the empty space of your bed beside you.

satoru playfully huffed and gave the foods to his students and let them distribute it themselves. sitting beside you, he gave you the separate plastic with food and helped you feed yourself. the two of you had your moment with you telling satoru to just let you be and stop feeding you like a kid, but satoru was like nuh uh—and it goes on and on.

meanwhile, the students watch you two with surprise in their eyes. they still couldn't digest the fact that you two had managed to hide your marriage for like five years or so. and out of all spouses out there, they couldn't believe their eyes that you married a guy that is a total opposite of you.

“i still cannot really believe that you're married and have a baddie wife.” nobara almost never tears her gaze towards you two.

“yeah, much more is that they look so in love!” yuuji agrees to what nobara said as his words made you two stop bickering instantly.

like a cold water being poured, you two were suddenly experiencing a reality check that this so-called in love was very far from the two of you actually is. coughing slightly to hide his awkwardness and nervousness, he just let himself chuckle. while you? you're an expert at this, you maintain a smiley expression and wordlessly (and also forcefully) agrees to what the boy said.

“oh my, do we?” putting a hand on your cheek, you smiled with your eyes closed. your act looks so legit but satoru has seen this multiple side—he knew this facade was all fake.

maki suddenly puts herself into attention by calling your name. “anyway y/n-sensei, i've noticed you two don't have a ring—” before she could even finish her sentence, you already beat her to it.

“that's because the two of us, mostly him, are constantly fighting curses and both involve using our hands when we use our techniques. it would be risky to wear it and we're scared that we might get it lost or damaged.” you explain meticulously.

you watch the students agree to your explanation, while satoru is looking at you with meaning. you stared back at him too, hoping that he would get your telepathic message.

“alright guys, your y/n-sensei needs to rest now. we'll just see you guys soon or you can all just drop by tomorrow after your training.” satoru called everyone's attention by clapping his hands then started to playfully shoo the students.

you watch them pack their things and wave you a happy goodbye, in which you return their enthusiasm as well. when they all left, you let out a sigh and started to gently lie your body on the bed. satoru, who was done cleaning just now, sit at the end of your bed and carefully massage your legs.

“did you have fun with them?” you just lazily hum at his question and proceed to rest your eyes.

“i…i'm surprised you managed to convince them about our marriage.” satoru continued quietly.

opening one of your eyes and looking at him, you said, “of course, i've been doing it to a lot of people for the past five years.”

that alone made him shut up.

satoru looked down to his hands, which were still busy massaging your legs. you've noticed that his eyes were casted down and his behavior was somewhat familiar to you, he's feeling something that is related to guilt and regret.

clicking your tongue, you're in no mood to deal with his behavior today. so to find a solution to this problem, you just put yourself to sleep and let all of this just go on without a single care.

it has been two days and you're getting better day by day. today was probably the bestest day so far because you're about to finally see your own baby!

“calm down, mama. do you want your stitches to open again?” shoko holds your knees to stop it from shaking anxiously as you were currently sitting just right outside the neonatal intensive care unit (nicu) where your baby was.

you understand that the doctors need to prepare the room first before you all come in, but you wished that they speed it up.

“but sho, i'm finally seeing my baby!” you squeal at your friend who just ruffles your hair and tells you to be patient—in which you definitely can't.

meanwhile, satoru, who was standing beside you while you and shoko were sitting together, has been eyeing you since this whole waiting. he understands that you're excited about seeing the baby because he is too, he is excited. but he couldn't help but to feel a sensation that you would rather share your excitement with others than him.

he knows that he sounds ridiculous and undeserving to say that in the first place after what he did to put you through, but he still couldn't help it and he wouldn't even dare to say it to you.

the door of the nicu just opened and it revealed the doctor who was wearing protective gear to keep bacterias and viruses from entering the room and harm the baby. before he lets you all in, he first instructs you all to change the same gear as him and then proceeds to give you all some explanation in which you actively listen and take notes.

and after that, he finally lets you go inside.

the moment your eyes traveled on a crib, you saw your child laying down there with some breathing apparatus that is connected to their little body. you could feel your eyes swell with hot tears as you inch yourself towards the bundle of joy who's their crib was also protected with glass and only small holes on both sides were there.

satoru and shoko watched you with pure warmth at your sight—it was a nice scene of mother's love. finally, a tear escapes your eyes the moment you get a whole view of your child.

“isn't he pretty?” shoko said beside you, someone who you didn't notice had come near you.

you gasp, “he? m-my baby is a boy?” your cries go even harder, but it was just pure happiness. you couldn't bring yourself to tear your gaze away from your child even though he looks fragile for being premature but you love him dearly.

“can i touch him?” you look at the doctor who assisted you earlier without caring that you might look like a crying mess. you're far more thrilled to be with your child than to be pretty at this moment.

the doctor smiled at you and he agreed. he pointed out the small hole on the side, telling you to stick your hands out to feel your baby. you do what he said with your shaky hands, and when your fingertips touch his warm skin—you feel like you could die from the burst of euphoria.

“my b-baby, my baby is n-now here!” you really can't hold your emotions back as you keep on passing your fingers through your baby's arm until it reaches his closed hands where you slightly and gently open it for him to grab index finger. and when he does, your smile becomes even wider.

“hi baby~ this is me, your mommy. it's so nice to finally see you.” you whispered softly, hoping that despite the glass, he could hear your words.

this is the bestest day of your life. your baby was here and that's all you need.

the scene continues to unfold with you still getting emotional and shoko was just watching you with a smile on her face. while satoru, the father of the child, the husband of the mother, was a little distant but he could still see the baby. he was all quiet and couldn't bring himself to utter a word but he's not speechless.

his eyes behind those glasses were trailed on the child, but most of his gazes were on you. satoru watches you become all smiley—this is probably the happiest smile he had seen on your lips for the past years of your marriage.

and he would absolutely never forgive himself if he breaks it—but he already did.

shoko notices his odd behavior and promptly leaves your side for a while (but you're busy having a baby talk with your baby to notice her leaving) to go talk to him.

“what? you're just gonna stand there and watch y/n?” yup. still the same as before, hostile towards the man. satoru let out a sigh and didn't give her attention. instead, he walked towards y/n and just focused on his family.

“you’re so tiny!” you continue to cooed at your son who keeps on moving slightly which is a good sign that your son is responsive and fighting. you also noticed that satoru was now right beside you and is looking at your son too with adoration tinted in his eyes.

“i don't think i could let myself be away from him anymore.” you said. your cheeks were now hurting from constant smiling but you don't mind.

satoru only looks at you briefly because his attention was now on his son, fully. “hello, it was nice finally meeting you.” his eyes trailed on his own flesh and blood with the most care of all.

on the other hand, you're not dumb to not notice that satoru was acting hesitant towards this scene and you knew what his reason was. you think that satoru thinks that he was undeserving to be here, and you're correct about his assumption.

but as a woman who grew up with an experience of being inside a shattered family, you absolutely would not want that to happen to your own child. and as much as you would also like to satoru be away at least for now because you're still that sensitive about what he had said during those conversations in the clinic and hallway, you respect his role as a father.

you'd give him a chance to prove his worth as a father to your child, but he's far worse to have a chance to prove his worth as a husband to you. if he messes this up real bad and without any proper explanation, this will be all over—satoru would no longer have you and your child as his own family.

“stick your hand on his hole, that way you could feel him.” you guided his hand towards the hole that you had said before and watched his hands turn shakey as he reached for the baby.

once satoru had finally experienced a skin-to-skin touch with his baby, he wanted to cry so badly but he didn't allow himself to, at least not yet. he felt like this was one of the best moments in his existence.

satoru would like to punch himself for questioning the baby for his plans as he seemingly thinks it would affect him. but just when he look and touch his baby, all of his recollection about the mixed emotions he felt when the baby is on the board has suddenly vanished and it was replaced with gratefulness and adoration for both of you.

it was like a full 360 degrees turn was done after the early birth of his first born. plus, he had seen you be ever so happy that you are with him. and deep inside him, satoru deniably hopes that this kid, this child, can at least help him save this marriage that was destined to fail and doomed.

because he now finally realizes that you're slowly wrapping him around your tiny fingers.

your tears had made him be a better person, your recent experience had made him behave. it almost cost you and your baby's wife just for him to realize the importance of your five years of marriage, and he's planning to tell you that soon.

“have you finally decided what name we should give him?” shoko asked you and she didn't fail to see your eyes sparkle at the mention of name.

ah yes, baby names.

that was something that a mother and father should decide together because it comes very crucial because the name that your baby will get is a symbol of you two's relationship. but the thing is, you and your husband hadn't talked about a single thing or just anything related to this matter.

that's probably why you're still embarrassed whenever you think about nanami accidentally seeing you open a website into one of the school's computers about unique baby names with its meaning.

you're four months pregnant at that time and you're spending your free time in a teacher's lounge. you're very invested in your mini research to the point that you didn't notice an old friend peeking at your screen. you actually only notice his presence when you're about to stretch but accidentally bump his torso, and to your surprise, he was there.

and then the rest becomes a story and history. nanami helped you pick baby names for both genders or even unisex until you came out with…

“kazuki. let's name him that.” a soft smile was decorated on your lips as you watched satoru, who's looking at you, plays with the hands of your son.

“kazuki…that's a nice name, y/n.” satoru said happily. however, you can see his disappointment behind those words and you know why. you didn't even invite him to search for your baby's name because why would you?

“does it have any special meaning?” shoko asked you.

you nodded and said, “of course, kazuki means hope of peace—and i really need that.”

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[part 5 will be just there right around the corner — ©luvvixu2024]

[leonw4nter]

I really like ur fics with Leon as a dad 🤍 can I request one where it’s angst at the start but happy at the end? I think with Leon’s job he’s probably alway moving to new places and his wife is kinda at the point where she just can’t take it and worried for their kid?

My Baby Here On Earth Showed Me What My Heart Was Worth

Husband!RE:Damnation!Leon x F!Reader

“The kids are sleeping now,” you quietly tell your husband as you get into bed with him.

He hums a response, setting aside a copy of William Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury as he gets up. To go look at the kids one more time for the night, he says as he walks around the foot of the bed and towards the door. You wait until Leon noiselessly closes the door, his footsteps growing fainter as he grows more distanced from you, to sigh deeply, sitting up to lean against the cold headboard as you bury your face in your hands for a moment. You love Leon and you know that he loves you and your kids too but he’s grown increasingly distant with each passing day after coming home from deployment to the Eastern Slav Republic. You’ve done your best to show that you’re there for him, initiating conversations and even giving him simple compliments but the most he’s done is look in your direction and nod. A hum and a forced smile, if you’re lucky and he’s feeling less bad about himself. He still took care of the kids, driving them to school and playing with them in the afternoons but it’s clear that his mind is far from home. Even the kids could sense just how weary their father is, doing their best to cheer him up by giving him colorful drawings and letters. “Don’t be sad, daddy! Me, Ollie, and mama are here for yuo!” one of them reads, the word ‘you’ misspelled but Leon loved it nonetheless. For a quick moment he genuinely smiled whenever he read the letters and saw the drawings again before the frown took its place in his face again as he put the artwork in a folder and placed it back in the drawer cabinet.

You lifted your head from your hands when Leon walked back in, silent as always as he headed back to his side of the bed. You stared at him, urging him to say something–anything, just to dissolve the wall that he put up around himself but to no one’s surprise, he doesn’t speak. He checks the time on his phone and decides that it’s far too late to continue reading his book and sinks down beneath the covers, muttering a nearly inaudible ‘goodnight’ to you before he closes his eyes and drifts to sleep. Hurt, you scoff at how distant he feels. Physically, he’s home and with you but you know that emotionally and mentally, he’s still on the other side of the world and dealing with Tyrants, Lickers, and corrupt leaders. Turning the lamp off, you sink into the sheets as well and turn to face the wall. You have so much to say, so much to express to him but you’re afraid that this will only push him further from you even more. Worst case scenario, he packs his bags and sleeps in a hotel for a week before coming home plastered. He’s never done that before but you don’t want this rift to widen to the point he even considers doing that, maybe even leave behind the family he has with you for the enigmatic woman in red. Inhaling deeply, you shut your eyes before you speak to him. You don’t even think deeply about what you’re doing before your fears get to you and force you to shut up again.

“I can’t keep doing this, Leon.” You shakily begin. “We can’t keep doing this. I’m here for you, so are the kids, but you’re pushing us all away.”

“I need space.” He responds. Short and curt, straight to the point but you wish he said more.

“What does ‘space’ mean to you, Leon?” you gently ask as you sit up and face him who is still curled up on his side, his face hidden away like a secret. “I just want to know what I can do to support you while also giving you some time alone.”

“Leave me alone. There. That’s the kind of space I want,” he grumbles as he sits up, facing you. You stay silent for a moment, your sympathetic gaze on him but his eyes are elsewhere as he runs a hand through his dark hair, not wanting to see the look on your face.

“Okay. But let’s still talk, okay? Let’s voice out how we feel and communicate, I want to be able to provide you with what you need–”

“Why are you doing this?” Leon interrupts, not out of irritation but rather out of wonder. Your eyes widen for a quick moment before you inch a little near him, hesitant to reach out and place your hand on his hand.

“Because I care for you, Leon, and I don’t want to see you suffer alone. I want to be here for you and share the weight of the world on your shoulders too. You don’t have to keep it all to yourself, I can see it eating away at you.”

He doesn’t stop you when you take his hand, feeling the scars and calluses on them. He quite misses your touch, actually, but he felt like he was throwing himself a pity party whenever he thought about asking you for a hug or a kiss.

“I don’t want to bring home anything from work,” he explains. “I don’t plan on mixing it– work and home life… and I didn’t expect for it to get to this. That I’m pushing you and the kids away. I don’t… I don’t want my family to even think about how the monsters I’ve killed looked like or how I killed them. Something as precious as you three don’t deserve that. Our little ones, most of all.”

Pulling him in for the first hug in nearly two weeks, after two weeks of Leon trying to avoid your physical display of affection, he gives in. He leans his forehead on your shoulder but doesn’t wrap his arms around you and instead, lies limply on his side.

“Oh Leon,” you delicately whisper. Sushing and humming the same tune you used to hum when your toddlers were still tiny babies, you tenderly sway Leon from side to side in order to ease all the anguish he bottled up and refused to share. It doesn’t take long for his tears to wet your shoulder, his large frame shaken with stifled sobs. He went by “Condor One”, “Agent Kennedy”, and many other aliases required by his job but at the end of the day, he is your Leon Scott Kennedy. “Daddy”, as his dear children would call him.

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Leon slept in your arms, his head buried in your side with an arm slung around your stomach, for the first time in the longest time. He still shook and spoke in his sleep, flinching at times, but his sleep appeared to be much more restful. It was your turn to be unable to fall asleep now, a hand gently patting Leon’s shoulder blade with a watchful eye observing him. You were tired from the entire day and the crying you did with him hours ago but you couldn’t find it in you to doze off; you thought about your kids’ future and raising them, along with considering the fact that Leon was rarely home for a long time and was always moving to new places for indefinite periods. Each mission brought the fear that this would be the last time you’d see Leon alive, to be talking to you in person and that what would come home to you are two agents holding a folded flag, an urn, and what remained of his gear instead. It would be cruel for Leon, who proudly proclaims that his life has only begun when he met you. Leon, who knew what it meant to truly live when he found out that you were pregnant with his children. You knew that it also hurt Leon to leave at ungodly hours of the night when he was going to be deployed for a mission and to think that his kids would wonder where their daddy is and why he’s always gone. You’re used to Leon’s constant absence but it doesn’t hurt any less each time he has to go. His job is bad for your heart, constantly putting it in a state of worry and fear. It always stung whenever your kids asked if they could go with Leon when he had to leave on an “adventure” because they wanted to spend more time with him. You hated breaking the news to Leon that he’d have to miss out on another one of their school events, having to phone Chris or Patrick to attend in his place; he sounded so pained whenever he asked about the details of the event, his dreams of walking up the stage and being active in his childrens’ schooling playing in his head every time he closed his eyes for a quick nap before being back on his feet and killing monsters. Ultimately, you decided to give the kids a day trip with Leon since their only trip with Leon was when they were still babies. Sighing once more before giving sleep another try, you start to mentally compile all the things needed for tomorrow’s road trip.

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“She’s already got a stain on his shirt and the ice cream hasn’t even melted yet,” Leon says with an amused grin as he tries to wipe the chocolate off of Euphemia’s pink shirt with a wet wipe. You’re preoccupied with watching over the other twin Ollie, who’s trying to call a stray cat and give the kitty a lick of his vanilla ice cream. You look back at Leon, who’s giving his daughter kisses as he got the stain to look a lot less dark than it was earlier.

“Pheme still tends to get ice cream everywhere,” you softly tell him as you offer another set of wipes, to which he declines since the stain isn’t obvious and the wipes could be used for later. Leon smiles when he notices you use the nickname he gave to Euphemia; he’s managed to get you to use this one instead of his other loving nickname for Oliver, “Rolliver Polliver”, derived from when Ollie almost ate a roly poly bug.

All of you finish eating ice cream without getting any more stains or a cat being fed something it shouldn’t be fed and get back to the car, hitting the road once more. Queen, Hall & Oates, Elton John, and The Flamingos have been traded for nursery rhymes and songs to induce sleep in toddlers in order to get them to nap a little bit. Instead of Leon sitting in the passenger seat with you, he decided to sit at the back in between the kids in order to spend some time being near them on the road trip. The twins seemed to have gotten their habit of sleeping with their head leaned back and mouth slightly ajar while softly snoring from Leon, who is also asleep with his hands on their child car seat. Caught in a red light, you quietly observe this tender moment in the front and snap a few pictures of them with your digital camera from 1989 that still surprisingly works well. You giggle at the sight behind you, heart melting at seeing your husband and children look so adorable. His jacket is on your lap when you told him that you were feeling a little chilly, insisting that he’s fine in the back without one. Just earlier, he was making funny faces and holding a serious, one-sided conversation with his little ones, making them laugh and giggle at his every word and now they’re all asleep together. If it means having more moments like this, you’re ready to fight the D.S.O. for keeping your husband occupied on the other side of the world. You guess that it’s also moments like these that Leon continues to fight bioterrorism so that other families can safely enjoy moments like this one without worrying about monsters coming to harm their loved ones. Since the red light is still going and you seem to have been caught in a moderate traffic, you take out your video cam and film the soft scene behind you. “Papa and the kiddos are sleeping together, their snoring isn’t in sync so there’s no moment of silence for me but I don’t mind. I love you all so much and momma is very happy right now.”

After nearly four hours of driving, you four finally get to the cliff overlooking the great wide sea. Parking your car to a safe place, you take out the picnic basket and start preparing your spot. You two chose a spot underneath the shade of a thick tuliptree, a cover from the hot sun. The kids have been asking so much about finally being able to play soccer and ‘helicopter’, a game where Pheme and Ollie hang from Leon’s arms as he spins around (the twins have promised to never, ever play ‘helicopter’ again because they got dizzy but they seem to have ‘forgotten’ it this time) and you explained that they can play an hour after having the picnic and when the sun isn’t so hot anymore. Leon agrees and although the twins don’t seem too happy, they don’t appear to mind it that much since they’re eager to help Leon in unloading the car (he gave them the lighter tasks). As soon as the food is set and most of the bugs have been successfully warded off, the twins gather to sit beside you but before everyone can take a bite of the sandwiches, Leon gets up and takes the digital camera and snaps a couple of pictures, even attempting a selfie at one point. Soon, everyone digs into their sandwiches and stuffs their faces full of the snacks you and Leon prepared together in the morning.

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After what felt like the nth picture Leon has taken of you and the twins, he finally puts the camera down and puts it back in its case but picks up the video cam instead. The twins groan, urging their dad for more playtime even if they’re drenched in sweat with dirty knees.

“5 minutes,” Leon says as he starts recording. “Papa’s back hurts. Why don’t you ask mama?”

“Mama already played! She can’t carry us and she says she’s also tired! She’s reading now!” Pheme exclaims.

He points the camera towards you, reading a pocketbook in the picnic basket while dabbing your forehead and neck with a towel. He laughs and calls you, causing you to look up from the book you were engrossed with and blow him a kiss. He laughs one more time, ‘catching’ the kiss and placing it inside his shorts pocket which gets a giggle out of you.

“My beautiful wife is uhh sitting there, she’s reading.” He narrates as he zooms in. “Very beautiful, the sunlight is hitting her just right. Gosh, she makes me nervous and she doesn’t even know. Love her very much.”

He zooms out and zooms into his children, who decide to take interest in the rocks and starts flinging them towards the cliff with the intention to try to fling it to the ocean, which is quite far from where they are.

“Hey kiddos,” he says as he walks up to them and pats them with his free hand. “What’re you doin’?”

“We’re trying to throw rocks into the ocean!” Ollie and Pheme cheerfully explain, showing their rocks to the lens before flinging it with all their tiny might.

“Ooh, that’s quite far honey,” Leon comments. “Want me to try?”

The twins cheer and he takes that as an opportunity to throw one, the recording being temporarily shaky.

“Woah! You threw it far, papa!” The twins say and clap, determined to throw it as far as he did. He helps the twins throw it, focused on teaching them how to aim and the force they need to exert to fling it a little farther.

After several minutes of flinging rocks and random conversations with your husband and your kids, you call them over to look at the pictures Leon has taken. Everyone gathers around you as you look at each one, oohing and aahing at Leon’s photography skills. Leon focuses the cam on the pictures popping up in the digital camera, chipping in with his thoughts.

“Mommy looks amazing there,” he breathily says. “Divine. What’d you think, Pheme?”

“So pretty!” She beams before giving you a big kiss on the cheek. Ollie giggles and snuggles closer to you, occasionally pointing to the pictures.

Like you guessed, most of the pictures are of you, the kids, or both. Observant like their dad, they picked up on this as well.

“Pa, you’re not in a lot of the photos! It’s always us or mama!”

Leon chuckled, ruffling his kids’ heads. He extends a pointer finger to a shadow in the image before you switch to another one, pointing to the tall shadow once again.

“That’s me,” Leon explains. “I’m the shadow.”

His twins seem confused, falling into silence along with you, who is also intrigued by Leon’s words.

“When you look at these pictures when you’re bigger, I want you all to know that I’m always here. These are proofs that I’m with you because I’m the shadow and I’ll always look out for all three of you,” he explains

The twins say ‘aww’ at the same time and tackle his legs, hugging him tight. While you set the camera down and look at Leon with a small pout and slightly glossy eyes. Leon chuckles softly and places a free hand on your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek before you join your twins in giving him a big bear hug as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“I love you, Leon.” You softly tell him, warm breath fanning against his neck.

“Me too, sweetheart. I love you more.” He tenderly responds as he hugs you and the kids back.

He’s thankful that this tender moment is caught on camera so he can rewatch it several more times before he goes to bed.

NOTE - I hope you liked this fic anon!!! At first, I wasn't super confident about writing this or how it'll turn out but I think it turned out nicely ngl :) YALL. I finally got my driver's license. I can drive. Do I know how to? I know the theoretical aspects of it but driving itself? Running a motor vehicle? I have yet to learn (it's on June 20-21 and my dad will teach me until I get better)... I also scarfed down a big spicy bowl of ramen coz I didn't have breakfast this morning <3 Also, It's not rlly embarrassing for me to be writing fics while my parents r sitting at the back (I'm at my living room) but making the border??? Looking for pics of Leon??? It's embarassing for me 😭😭 My dad said that my Chris capcorom looks like a Bánh bò and ngl I kinda see it 😭😭 There's a Japanese mall where I live and I'll be going there tomorrow so hopefully yk there's a copy of any RE book or manga (PLEASEPLEASEPLE) Anyways, that's it and thank you for readings my fics!!!!!! I <33333 UUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The wavy divider was made by @kaitsawamura , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[manicpixiedreamedwins]

I know we all joke about Charles Rowland having these over-exaggerated people pleasing tendencies, but I just want to say they make a lot of sense for someone who grew up in the hell hole of a home that he did.

(Now's the time to dip if you don't want to read something kind of heavy and also really messy, sorry. CW for mentions of Charles' home life)

The night nurse gave us some insight into what Charles' home life looked like (that, and we can piece together how he must have been feeling from his reactions to the Devlin house). We know he had a volatile, objectively abusive parent. We know he and his mother were terrified of this man, enough that he keeps checking in to try and make sure that his mom is still okay all these years later.

Alright. Still with me?

There's this thing that happens to kids who grow up in households like this (trust me).

Because one parent is so volatile, they learn to model after the other parent who is constantly keeping the peace. They're constantly walking on eggshells, they have to be hyper-vigilant of even slight differences in the atmosphere to prevent a catastrophe. If they have needs or wants, then those needs and wants are not being met. If there are problems (there are) then they are not being talked about (ever, and if they try then all hell breaks loose and there are consequences).

These kids form a facade of "everything is fine, there are no problems and we are happy here". You know, what we would call a people pleaser.

This is Charles. This is very much a survival instinct, it kept him reasonably safe in life (truly, he only died once he deviated from it and "rocked the boat" so to speak).

In all fairness, it has worked out fine for him in death too- Edwin responds well to it. Edwin actually does react very well to Charles' attempts at merry making, deep breathing, even his playful ideas like boardgames and boxing. What he knows works, actually. It works so well he's stuck around for thirty years, so in his mind he probably doesn’t think he should change anything.

The second time he deviated from people pleasing, in all fairness, even when he had to or else he would get separated from Edwin, also didn't work out well. He reacted on genuine, earnest feelings. He was fucking angry when the night nurse showed him his trauma. He was pretty raw when he pushed her over the bridge and into the fish. That was all earnest, uncensored emotion, not a measured act.

Edwin reacted poorly. Everyone reacted poorly. Back to people pleasing.

Charles is really only confused when people pleasing doesn't work. When he reaches out to try and befriend Monty and gets snubbed, I think he's genuinely confused. He can't figure what's wrong. This always works. It always works with Edwin at least. So what's wrong?

That continues on when he's doing everything he'd typically do to engage Edwin while he's reading and it's just... not working (because remember the hyper-vigilance- he knows something is different and so he's unsettled).

This continues onto the roof scene. He knows something is completely and utterly fucked (he just doesn't know it is between Monty and Edwin, or that Crystal’s powers are gone) and he's uncomfortable. In a previous life, he'd be waiting for the other shoe to drop and something to hurt.

He's relieved when Edwin finally starts opening back up a little and trying to talk to him. Yes, he misinterprets what's happening at first (he assumes Edwin is coming out in general, as opposed to trying to tell him he likes him), but things are going back to normal in his mind.

They're reconnecting. He does get a little uneasy because there's still one wall between them (the cat king) that he can't manage, joke, or talk his way out of yet because Edwin hasn't explained yet.

This gets interrupted anyway. (At least there's no more cat bracelet, lol. A win for Charles).

There's more pressing issues, though- he needs to rescue Edwin from hell. He literally cannot be separated from him. Their whole thing has been not being separated from each other since... well since the start. So he keeps his promise, sloughs through the depths of hell, and goes to get him. Easy enough! He disarms the babydoll spider with a bomb, a moltov cocktail, and Edwin's journal. This was probably the least of his problems.

Success. He's got Edwin back. His afterlife is good again. Now things can go on as normal.

Only FUCK! Now Edwin is asking him to express... his... feelings...

-Well. Look how well it went the last time Charles did anything on his own volition. First he died, then he pushed Edwin away. This seems kind of important. He can't fuck this up, but they are literally running out of hell, but he can't fuck this up because that would mean he pushes Edwin away-

He comes up with something that feels close to right, measured, things that Edwin has responded well to before (and under all of that he asks him to stay, please stay, be patient, but it comes out as a declaration because that seems more certain). He cannot lose Edwin here.

They run back up the stairwell together. Charles hopes maybe Edwin understood.

Charles wishes he had better words on the roof. He doesn't, other than to reassure Edwin they're okay-- he would have wanted that. The last time he said anything, it was too extreme. He says nothing and hopes maybe Edwin will give him some sort of clue on what to do again, eventually.

Idk, maybe I'll write more later but... this is so fascinating to me because it's like so obvious as someone who grew up in the absolute tar pit that Charles did. He's not dumb, or making arbitrary choices with what he's doing here. He is doing what he knows works to keep what's important to him close to him. He's just wildly out of his depth when that doesn't work.

[ataliagold]

Or Maybe We Don't

For @astrangersummer week 7 prompt 'or maybe we don't'.

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Steve Harrington

Rating: G

W/C: 1280

Tags: Steddie, first kiss, getting together, beach holiday, sunset, fluff, Steve Harrington has a crush on Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson has a crush on Steve Harrington, love confessions

Summary: It's the final day of Steve and Eddie's summer trip, and Steve has something he needs to tell Eddie.

___

Sunset was approaching, the sky a brilliant array of orange and pink, light sparkling off the water flowing forward then receding away again in gentle waves.

Steve was sitting with Eddie in the sand, looking out across the empty beach. It had been busy earlier – families set up for a day in the sun, kids building sandcastles, people playing in the surf. Most had been day-trippers, now packed up and departed, leaving just Steve and Eddie to take in the slowly sinking sun.

It was their last night at the little seaside house that Robin’s aunty had let them use for a few days for a brief summer getaway.

Robin and Nancy were supposed to have come on this trip with them, but Nancy had come down with some flu she’d caught from Mike and Robin had stayed behind to take care of her.

That left only Eddie and Steve, and this unspoken thing building between them that neither had managed to mention yet.

It was stolen glances, hands brushing not-so-accidentally, Steve quietly giving Eddie the pickles from his burger at the diner, nights spent in front of the TV where neither of them really focused on the movie – they were too busy looking at each other.

“I don’t really want to go home,” Eddie commented, breaking the pleasant silence that had fallen over them, “not yet. S’nice here.”

“I’m sure we can come back,” Steve told him, letting a handful of sand run through his fingers. “With Robin and Nancy.”

Something flashed across Eddie’s face, the slightest wince, and he turned away a little. “Yeah. With them.”

Steve paused. Reached his hand slightly towards Eddie’s, then stopped himself, let his hand fall again.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?” His voice was tight.

Steve frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“No.”

“Ok. Just…you seem kinda…”

“What?”

“I dunno.”

“Good one, Harrington.”

There was no malice in Eddie’s tone, but Steve flinched a little at the old nickname anyway because he and Eddie were so far past that now – or at least, he thought they were.

Steve sighed. “I don’t really wanna go home either. I do miss Robin though.”

Eddie smiled then. “You missed her on our first night here.”

“Yeah,” Steve said sheepishly.

“It’s been good though, right? The last couple of days?”

“Yeah.”

“I know it’s not…well, it’s not really what we’d planned, without the girls, but…”

“I’ve had fun.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

Steve’s tongue darted out over his lips, and he looked back out to the water. He knew why their conversation had become so stilted, why things suddenly felt so awkward, but he hadn’t been able to get the courage up to voice it.

To tell Eddie how he felt.

But when was he going to get another chance like this? They were alone, away from prying eyes, from the demands of the kids – out here they could be anyone they wanted to be.

Steve wanted to be Eddie’s.

He snuck a glance at the other boy. Took in the way the light fell across his delicate features, shining off dark brown eyes, his face so pretty despite being slightly clouded by indecision, perhaps the same indecision Steve was feeling right now.

“Eddie –”

“Steve – ”

They spoke at the same time, snapped their mouths shut in sync.

Eddie laughed briefly. Rubbed the back of his neck, tugged a section of hair across his mouth, smiled playfully at Steve.

“You first, big boy.”

“What were you going to say?” Steve asked quietly, because what if he’d been reading this all wrong, what if Eddie was going to say something completely mundane, suggest they eat at the diner tonight instead of Steve cooking, which Steve really hoped he wouldn’t because he was planning on making Eddie’s favourite lasagna as a surprise…

Eddie’s lips twitched. “Probably the same as you,” he said earnestly.

Steve sucked in a breath, let it out a little shakily. Inched his hand towards Eddie’s again.

“I really enjoyed these last few days,” Steve said after a moment. “With you, I mean.”

Eddie nodded, pinky brushing against Steve’s.

“And I think…well, I know how I…feel about you. And it kinda…” Steve trailed off, looked down at his lap, anywhere but Eddie because he could feel his cheeks colouring now, and what if he was about to fuck everything up? He took a deep breath, tried again. “Well, it kinda scares me. Because I’ve never felt this way about anyone else except Nancy, a long time ago. And you know how that ended, and I don’t want that to happen again, not with you. God, not with you.”

Finally, he forced himself to look up, Eddie’s silence too much to bear.

He was looking at Steve softly, openly, his pinky looped over Steve’s now, breeze gently ruffling his hair.

Steve wanted to kiss him.

But he waited, needed to be sure, needed to know he hadn’t imagined everything between them.

“You know I’ve been in love with you since you carried my half-dead ass out of the Upside Down, right?”

Steve blinked several times in response to Eddie’s confession. “Seriously?”

Eddie chuckled. “Yeah. What, like that’s an unreasonable response to Steve Harrington saving your life?”

“I just…I mean, you never…you didn’t say anything.”

“I thought you were straight.”

Steve tipped his head to the side, raised his eyebrows briefly. “To be fair, so did I.”

“So you’re telling me…you’re not?” Eddie continued, his expression hopeful, his pinky curling around Steve’s.

“No,” Steve said, meeting his eyes. “No, because I really want to kiss you right now.”

Eddie swallowed visibly. Leaned in closer, until Steve could feel his warm breath dance across his lips.

“Go on then, Stevie.”

Steve closed the little distance left between them. Kissed him there as the sun farewelled the sky, slow and gentle and a little unsure of himself because he’d never kissed another man before. But instead of his heart rate spiking like he’d expected it to, it slowed under Eddie’s touch, and Steve felt calm and soft and safe because this was Eddie and he’d never felt something so right in this life.

The following day, after spending the night in Eddie’s arms, Steve was driving them back to Hawkins. Back to their jobs, back to their separate homes, back to reality.

Hand in hand across the gearbox, the two spent most of the drive looking at each other, Steve having to force his attention back to the road every now and then.

An hour out of Hawkins, Eddie spoke.

“What do we do, when we get home?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, do we…tell people? Our friends? Wayne? The kids?”

“Do you want to?”

“Well…I want to be able to be with you,” Eddie said, squeezing his hand. “But are you ready for that? Steve Harrington, former Hawkins golden boy, in a relationship with Eddie the freak?”

Steve made a soft noise of protest at that, brought Eddie’s hand up to his mouth and kissed it.

“I want to be with you,” Steve said firmly. “I’m not sure when we tell people, let’s maybe give it a few days to think about it, but…yeah, Eddie. I want you.”

“Because we could…well, I mean, if you wanted to we could…” Eddie’s eyes darted away, looked out the window, back again. “I’d understand if you wanted to pretend this never happened. If you wanted to just go back to normal. We could, if you want.”

I can’t, Steve knew. And looking at Eddie, at his face that was imploring Steve otherwise, he knew Eddie couldn’t either.

Steve smiled at him. Brought Eddie’s hand to his lap and held it securely there.

“Or maybe we don’t.”

[justheretolurk003]

A long post on why Daniel is more fascinating than Armand (according to Louis)

Got you. In fact I’m a bit torn on whether or not Daniel is that different from other people that he is extremely fascinating. I think he has a risqué attitude that a lot of the people at the bar share: that willingness and unapologetic desire to live life and enjoy pleasure at maximum. A bit like Lestat’s answer in S1, when Louis asks him why vampires are on Earth, and Lestat answers he himself put Louis on earth for the purpose of pleasure and do whatever they want.

But I don’t think a resemblance to Lestat is the whole reason Louis didn’t kill Daniel that night. While being broken down by Armand, Daniel admits that he is good at getting people to open up, a trait that is more uncommon but not so much. Still, I think Louis picks up on that, even at the bar when Daniel says he is good at looking for people in the cracks. That sparks Louis’ interest. A way Daniel shows he is good at listening is the way he does not judge Louis when he shows him his own coffin —instead he just asks how it works. When Louis shows him his fangs, Daniel is scared af at first, then asks him to show his fangs again later on. This creates an environment of comfort Louis uses to rage against Lestat and mourn for Claudia. Their interview is not an interview based on accuracy, it is an “emotional upchuck” which can only be had in an environment where there is some level of trust, comfort and a non-judgmental attitude. In 1973 Daniel is not so much an interviewer, but a therapist.

And still I don’t think that is the whole reason Daniel was not killed by Louis that night cause Daniel is also unapologetically himself. Unapologetically horny, unapologetically weird, unapologetically chill, unapologetically idiotic, cringey and with no sense of danger when he offers to become Louis’ companion. I think this trait along with the previously touched upon ones are the reason Jacob calls Daniel “cool”. Daniel is cool in the sense he is unpretending. A dude that is chill, observant, with an angle and you can have fun with.

And still, these are not incredibly fascinating traits that few people possess. In fact, I know plenty of people who share these traits and embody them even more than Daniel. On top of that, at that point in his life, Daniel hasn’t lived a fascinating life. He said it himself: just a shitty kid from Modesto. In fact, Armand has lived a ten times more fascinating life than Daniel (argue with me in the comments if you disagree, bitch) and Daniel is right when he says Armand is more fascinating cause for fucks sake, he can actually read minds! But again, the comfort they offer to Louis is radically different. And that is why Louis prefers the night he spent with Daniel than the decades alongside Armand. On one hand we have Daniel’s non judgmental, unassuming gaze compared to the snobbishness and high horse attitude of Armand. We have Daniel letting Louis be messy and vengeful and emotional, and Armand who is composed and impenetrable and we’ll-adjusted, the whole time.

And yes, I think Armand looks down on Louis because Armand is giving a performance of how to be a well put together, good adjusted person. Armand looks down on Louis for picking up men at bars, he looks down on him for being a mess and opening up to Daniel, you can say he looks down on him for committing suicide (though this coexist with the hurt and betrayal Armand feels at seeing his efforts, cause yes, Armand sees it as efforts, be thrown away by Louis).

Whoever Armand is with, he tries to appeal to his partner and create an environment in which nothing is out of order, nothing is evocative, in which everything is to their liking. In this case, the environment is plain because the goal is that there is not a single thing that triggers Louis. Armand justifies this by saying he does it for Louis’ sanity and comfort. And the epitome of this place is Dubai.

Louis is cut off from society, in a place where everything is tailored to him to never upset him or trigger him. And I genuinely think this is the way Armand knows how to pay for what he did in Paris and show his love for Louis. This blandness and willingness to appeal to the desires of the other (“Is it gremlin or good nurse tonight?”) is how Armand expresses love. And it is tragic that is how he does it. Because what is sex work if not appealing to the desires of other people? What is a slave if not someone who is forced to appeal and is exploited to the greed of other people? What is a master if not a person you have to satisfy in every of their wishes? Armand caters to desire. That is how the dozens of people that exploited him taught him how to relate to them, especially Marius. The only way Armand could love Marius was by serving him, cause that was the only way Marius made himself available.

The power of Louis and Armand’s roles as maître and Arun is that Armand performs as a slave when he is the master and Louis performs as the master when he is the slave. Armand is recreating his dynamic with Marius, it is just that this time Armand has the power to be the master. Instead of outright being one, he is covert.

As a side note, I don’t think Armand is taunting Lestat when he contacts him to talk to Louis. I think he has that call with him out of the goodness of his heart — perhaps, to show Louis how good he himself is— but mostly because the role Armand forces himself to play is so suffocating, so unfair, so fucked up, that when Lestat says I love you Armand can’t deal with the pain of having to repeat that back to Louis. He just can’t. It is a genuine vulnerable moment of Armand. Ideally, it would be a wake up call for him to stop playing this role, but the events in Paris have him stuck playing that part.

It is intentional that they show us Armand letting Lestat come and destroy the coven, because he is letting Daniel do the same thing: come destroy Dubai, come destroy the catering to desire, come destroy the constant acts of service. And I hope this time is for good. I hope Armand and Louis are free from this dynamic that eats away at them. The space Armand holds for Louis to process his emotions hurts both Armand and Louis. Armand, hurt by always having to work relentlessly and never sit down with the truth according to Assad, which I argue is a lifestyle he inherited from his past as a slave. Louis, hurt by not having a non-judgmental space to cope, process and grieve as a victim of abuse, perpetuator of abuse, and the betrayal he committed against Claudia.

The reason Daniel comes across as fascinating to Louis is because Louis was begging for a listening ear, for somebody to care about his story, and Daniel has good the traits to listen to Louis and met him at the right time.

Sadly, centuries of trauma prevent Armand from being who Daniel is.

(Also didn’t Claudia say to Madeleine that there was something broken in her and Madeleine told her sometimes people go boom and then fine and then boom? To me, Louis in the 70’s embodies this so much).

Gif by @unicornspwnall

[logansargey]

I just got a vivid maxiel fic idea and I need to write it down and share it bc I MAY or MAY NOT write the full fic. Okay so,

Alternate Universe: Maxiel college

Where Max and Daniel are in college but barely know each other besides through their friend group. And Daniel mentions he needs a room mate bc his last one moved out (Daniel is closer to his age so he's in his 3rd in college and Max is in his 2nd) and Max hears it and decides to move in with him bc he also needs a place to stay bc he's currently couch surfing.

And they're kinda awkward at first until one night when Max has a date and Daniel kind of feels a certain way but he can't describe why and just, kind of puts it off. And he sees the date and realizes that they're beautiful and feels jealous. Daniel just thinks he's jealous of Max for pulling a pretty girl (news flash, it's not) blah blah blah, the date ends bad, max comes home pissed and Daniel has to comfort him. Like makes him soup bc they're college kids and did you really think they could afford anything but ramen and canned soup? He comforts Max on the couch and realizes, he could get used to this.

They then fall into a routine through the days/weeks after. They come on to each other after classes. One makes a meal for both, they sit on the couch (sometimes cuddling) talk abt their day, play games, slowly fall in love (yk, the usual)

But good things can't last forever and Jos (EWWWW W) shows up to talk some sense (in the way you woukd think Jos would) to Max abt how he's wasting his early life being in college for a shitty career choice. (Daniel's getting a degree in art bc I love that idea, and Max is getting one in like, teaching but his dad wants him to be in business)

Daniel gets pissed and starts yelling at Jos, defending Max and Jos throws a hissy fit and leaves. He tells Max to make up his mind and Max decides he's right and goes home. BUT FUCKIN REGRETS IT!!

Daniel's alone in their his apartment, one empty bedroom, the plants Max had are still there though, Jimmy and Sassy are gone, Max's college books he always leaves messily on the dining table are gone, his fluffy blankets that normally stay on the couch are gone. And then Daniel realizes.

He's in love with Max verstappen

He doesn't take it well, freaks out at first bc wtf?!? He starts calling his friends and telling them he is, and everyone is like "duh??? Normal ppl don't live as domestically as you guys do." Daniel starts blowing up Max's phone but he won't fuckin answer. This goes on for a few days. All his friends are giving him looks of pity, telling him they miss Max too, but it's for the better.

One night, after Daniel just got home after a long day of classes, it's in the early a.m's, he hears a knock at his apartment door, he ignores it at first until they start banging on it. He gets up ready to punch a bitch and when he opens the door,

There's Max, with his luggage by his feet, a busted lip (by his dad possibly, Daniel thinks) and he has this look on his eye Daniel can only describe as relief. Relief to be back home.

Daniel doesn't say anything, just grabs Max by the arm and gently pulls him to him. He grabs Max's cheek and doesn't say anything, just looks into his blue eyes, and Max nods. He pulls Max in for a kiss

He doesn't feel fireworks or butterflies fluttering in his gut. Time doesn't stand still. It just feels like coming home

Anyways ik y'all probably won't read this so I probably won't write it but this is my idea.

[cheri-2047]

WEEKLY POLL

Hi guys! Here’s the weekly poll! A new one for u gusy to pick us out btw

Sorry for the short post, idk how to elaborate on words

Tending to Arlecchino’s wounds

TAGS: mentions of blood, gore if you squint, fluff

CHARACTERS: arlecchino, mentions of Freminet

10:31…

11:04…

12:57…

2:00 AM.

You stayed up the entire night, waiting for your lover, Arlecchino to arrive to the hearth.

You had been living in the hearth with arlecchino ever since you two started dating, and you don’t mind. You help the kids, help her and just like being there in general.

Lately, she’s been out on more missions. Which is normal, but the thing is, it’s not hee missions. She orders kids in the hearth to do tasks but lately, she’s been more busy doing it all on her own.

You get worried, seeing how injured the kids look when they return from their mission. Arlecchino by their side, supporting them with blood on her face and trousers.

“Arlecchino!”

You exclaimed, when she came home at 2AM with an injured Freminet in her arms.

“Get him to the infirmary. Now.”

She demanded, giving you a barely conscious Freminet.

You ran to the infirmary, whispering soothing things to the boy.

“Shh shh it’s okay, just a bit longer. No passing out okay?”

You said calmly, as you brought him to a bed in the infirmary.

“Nurse!”

You called out, before seeing a bunch of nurses treat him.

“Wheres… f-father…”

He looked for him, with a look of fear in his eyes. Not fear that he might die, but fear of failing the mission.

“That’s not important!”

You held his hand, before the doctors told you they’ll need to put anesthesia and perform surgery. They couldn’t allow you in the room.

You panicked, but you had to leave.

As you left the room, you saw a trail of blood.

That’s odd

You thought, seeing the blood trail past the infirmary.

You followed the blood trail, only for you to hear a groan.

You then realized.

“Arle-!”

You ran into hee room, not bothering to knock, to see her in the couch, blood all over her stomach, dust on her face and laying down with a med kit next to her.

“…”

She simply stared, trying to sit up but wincing softly.

“Ive been trained for it, I can handle it.”

She says with her normal nonchalant tone, looking at you in surprise when you started getting the things for the wounds.

“….hm”

She observed you closely, watching your hands shake in fear that you might lose your lover.

“…may I?”

You said, tugging her shirt.

She nodded, as you saw the amount of cuts in her stomach. You ran your hands over the open wounds, Arlecchino grunts.

“I can take care of myself, go to bed y/n.”

Arlecchino was strong, she always took care of her own wounds. She didn’t like others seeing her wounds.

The moment you started cleaning her wounds, she didn’t know how to feel. She never had someone worrying over her, or at least she hasn’t for a long time. She just watched you, staying silent and still.

From time to time, you could tell she was in a lot of pain. It wasn’t through her looks or actions, but something you couldn’t name.

During these times, she closes her eyes, just letting you treat her. You panicked at first when you thought she went unconscious, but she taps her fingers on the couch to reassure you in a way.

When you finish, it’s just silent. She doesn’t know how to react, she was raised to be a soldier. She didn’t know how to thank you, so instead she just nodded her head as thanks.

“….I appreciate the gesture.”

She stands up, gives you a kiss on the forehead.

“Let’s get you to bed”

BEFORE YOU GUYS SAY SMTH LIKW “this is so mischaracterized” “omg arle tsundere???” NO. YUCK. EW. JUST READ THE HEADCANONS BELOW

This woman is strong as hell, so she tries to remain strong even when she’s weak

She got the habit of treating herself from the start, even when the previous knave was there

“But she’s a strict and unfeeling-“ SHUT UP. Yes I think she’s strong but I don’t think that means she doesn’t feel pain at all.

Idt SHES the type to be like “ah-!” Or jolt up in pain, instead she just goes “tsk” or has a light gasp.

[builtbybrokenbells]

Melodic Memories | Track 1: Wild Horses - The Rolling Stones

In a tattered old box shoved deep down in the corner of an overfilled closet, a lifetimes worth of memories lie dormant at the bottom waiting to be rediscovered.

Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 15k

Warnings: angst, crying, heartbreak, high school breakups, divorce, estranged parent/strained parental relationship, depression, high school drama, anxiety, mentions of drinking, mentions of hookups/one night stands, unrequited love, PTSD mentions/explanations of reactions and behaviours due to PTSD, mentions of addiction/drugs, smoking, swearing, best friend fluff, sorry if i miss any!

Here we go!! I’m so excited to share this. this story is very near and dear to my heart as all of these songs are very special to me in one way or another. I will warn this is a bit of a slowburn, and there’s a lot of flashbacks/memories in the chapters to showcase the extent of the relationship between the characters. As always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🤍 I can’t wait to hear what you guys think

I usually have a listen while reading section, and it’s mostly a suggestion, but it’s imperative that you listen to the song stated in the title at least before reading, as every chapter is directly related to each one. If that’s not your thing, at least give the lyrics a quick read over! Much love 🫶🏻

SIX YEARS LATER

“Holy fuck, you have a lot of stuff.” Your best friend let out a dramatic huff as she dropped an overflowing box to the ground. You looked back at her over your shoulder, letting out a small chuckle as she pushed her long hair away from her forehead. She was tired, that much was obvious, and so were you. Still, despite your aching bodies and worn down minds, the two of you persevered with faith that the end goal would be worth all of the suffering.

“So do you.” You reminded her, folding a t-shirt and setting it neatly atop a pile of clothes you had been focused on. “Don’t hear me complaining about it.”

“Yeah, as if.” She scoffed. You could hear the roll of her eyes in her tone, striking a small smile on your face as she took a step towards you. “All you do is complain.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it pisses you off.” You grinned, grabbing an old pair of jeans from the mound of clothes you pulled from your closet. You looked over the tired material, your lips turning down into a frown as you tossed them into a pile on the ground, knowing there was no sense in keeping them when they looked one wear away from disintegrating.

“I’m kidding, you know that.” She assured you, making it clear that she wasn’t truly as upset as her words seemed. She began moving another box from your bed to the hallway, huffing as she bargained with the weight of the item. She was stacking them outside your door to allow for some more space inside the already tiny room.

Despite the smallness and the outdated decor, it felt nice to be back, sleeping on the same comfortable mattress you’d grown so used to when you lived at home. In truth, the lack of space was mostly credited to your oversized bed; you had begged your mom for a king size, asking for it for every Christmas and birthday from the ages of ten to sixteen until she finally cracked and made the purchase. Turns out, it was a great purchase, because six years and a graduate degree later, you and your best friend were sharing it while you prepared to move into your own apartment a few towns over.

You had traveled to Mel’s hometown almost a month prior, tearing apart her childhood bedroom just the same as you were doing to your own. You packed boxes full of her belongings, spending some quality time with her parents while learning and laughing about the funniest of all her childhood stories. Just like her, her parents were fun, free spirited and more accepting than even you could comprehend. They took you in with open arms, extending their gratitude for loving their daughter so dearly while she was so far away from home.

In truth, the pleasure was all yours, because in your six years at university, you felt as though Mel was the reason that you not only survived, but flourished. The two of you clicked instantly when you met, finding each other during your first week of freshman year in an intro to classic literature class. You bonded over your mutual dislike for your monotone professor who had to make an effort to be so disinterested in her own syllabus, and from there, the rest was history.

“You know, I actually liked Jane Eyre before I took this class.” You muttered under your breath, casting a sideways glance at the girl sitting next to you.

Her dirty blonde hair hung over her face, her eyes focused on a piece of empty paper in an unused notebook as she clutched a black pen in her hand. Every time the professor would switch slides on her PowerPoint, she would jump to write something down, but stop once she realized that once again, the gray haired woman was spewing nothing of significance.

Her skin was sunkissed, like she had spent all summer on the beach (or in a tanning bed—who were you to judge?), and her clothes were cute, but comfortable. Her brown eyes flickered to meet yours, her head turning ever so slightly to give you a glimpse of her face through her thick locks of wavy hair. The warmth within them was familiar, like you had seen them before in someone else you loved so dearly. You swallowed hard, forcing the thought out of your head. You were nervous, yet still excited at the thought of making a new friend, wondering if your words held any value to her, or if she would tell you to shut up.

Since moving to town, you hadn’t found one person you clicked with. You met lots of rich boys who threw their money in your face in hopes of convincing you to sleep with them, and plenty of girls who turned their nose up at your jeans with holes in the knees. They all looked like they stepped out of a magazine, and you felt completely out of place as you tried to break free from your small town habits. You dressed the same as you did in senior year, barely understanding how to be a university student and definitely lacking in the fashion department. You wore makeup to parties, but never anywhere else, mostly because in the years prior, you never felt the need to impress anyone.

Your long term relationship in high school left you more than secure with yourself, happy if you were comfortable and confident without any external aids. Now that he wasn’t by your side, you realized just how dearly he loved you, because without a pristine outward appearance, all of the university-goers seemed to turn their heads as you walked by. You had yet to find anyone to make friends with, and definitely no romantic interests as you tried to mend the hole in your heart that formed when you left your boyfriend behind to start anew. You were lonely, and more importantly, desperate to find someone to talk to.

“UPenn, Ivy League with a 7% acceptance rate and an English program better than any of their competitors, if you survive it.” She cracked a small smile, keeping her voice hushed as she joined in on the joke. “Only place in the world you can pay 20k a year for someone to put you to sleep.” You bit down on your lip, forcing yourself to swallow back the laugh stuck in your throat. You had sat beside the unnamed girl for your first three classes of the semester, but never found the courage to speak to her until that moment. She was the first person you had met that radiated a bit of life, something unique and alluring in her eyes that you couldn’t quite place. More than that, when you looked at her, you felt an overwhelming sense of familiarity. You were incredibly appreciative that she reciprocated any of your efforts at all.

“I think she put herself to sleep on Wednesday.” You confessed, recalling her slumped posture as she sat at her desk, waiting too long to engage in the group discussion after assigning an individual comprehension activity.

“Think she’s on her way there now, actually.” The girl nodded towards the front, suppressing a grin as she noticed the professor's drooping eyelids and extended bout of silence. The two of you shared a silent giggle, shaking shoulders and hurting bellies as you used all of your energy to silence yourselves in fear of getting caught. “I’m Mel, by the way.” She said, introducing herself after she calmed herself down.

“Y/N.” You replied, feeling better than you had in days. It felt nice to laugh, especially with someone who seemed to adorn the same sense of humour as your own. “Mel… is that short for Melanie? Or are you just ‘Mel’, cause that would be cool. Mysterious, even.”

“Neither, actually.” She chuckled, shifting in her seat so she was facing you a little better. “It’s short for ‘Mélange’, which is the stupidest fucking name I’ve ever heard.” She gave you a moment to digest the fact before explaining further, noticing your curious eyes as you held back another laugh. “My parents had me young, during their hippy-dippy era when they smoked too much weed and dressed like they were headed to Woodstock. Apparently it means ‘a mixture of dissimilar elements’, because I was made from different parts of them, or whatever. To me, it sounds like a really weird way of saying they had sex, and I really don’t think it meant that much to them back then. Probably just wanted to be the first to name their kid something, then realized how ridiculous it sounded so they had to come up with a story about it.”

“That’s… cool, though.” You stifled another laugh, finding her expression comedic as she rehashed the same story she used to explain her name every time someone asked.

“Yeah, cool unless it’s your own. Try growing up with that name and trying to survive the American public school system.” She shuddered at the thought, but a smile still lingered on her lips, telling you that she truly didn’t care that much anymore. “What about you? Your name short for anything, or are you just cool like that?”

From there, the title of best friends went without question. You did everything together, ranging from schoolwork to trips to the grocery store, hating the thought of being apart even while doing the most mundane tasks. You had made a pact to live together after graduation, unable to digest the idea of being apart when your university days ended, and you took the promise seriously. Since then, you did everything you could to ensure it happened, including travelling to her home state to pack up her shit so long as she promised to help you with yours. You both decided to go in the direction of teaching with your degrees, so you thought that if you lived together, you even had a shot of getting hired at the same school. Though, she seemed more keen on teaching younger students, and you leaned more towards high school.

There was lots still up in the air, especially without a solid job offer in line, but the two of you were determined to make it work, knowing that if you had each other, you could get through anything. Your mom was enough of a saint to house the two of you while you figured your shit out, and that’s what you were doing; packing, reminiscing, applying, and enjoying your life before things got too hectic again.

Despite it being manual labour, you quite enjoyed the experience of packing up your belongings, even though it did feel a bit melancholic at times. With every item you picked up, you were reminded of memories you’d shoved so far down that they were nearly forgotten. Although not all of them were the best, they were still important, and they showed you how far you had come when sometimes it felt like you made no progress at all. Mel was having a fantastic time for a whole different reason, finding your dramatic retelling of stories greatly comedic, and getting her first pick at the clothes you were planning on donating.

Being back at home with your family was different than it was all those years ago. Your mom, who had finally come to terms with the fact you were an adult, drank wine with you both in the evening as she got to know your best friend beyond what the surplus of FaceTime calls allowed over the years. You went on errands with her when you wanted to get away from packing, and enjoyed the things you once took for granted. Some nights, when she found herself a little too tipsy and reminiscent on the years that passed so quickly, she sat before you, weepy-eyed as she professed how proud she was of you. You felt like you were learning a whole new side of her, rather than the strict but loving one you knew all of that time ago. She was a woman who hurt and cried just as much as you did, who always put her kids first and held herself together when she was falling apart, just for the sake of being the rock in the house. You found yourself growing a whole new respect and a whole different kind of love for her, and you were grateful for the opportunity to see it.

Your younger sister, who was also staying at home for the summer, found herself hanging out in your room more often than not. There was much less arguments over who was spending more time in the bathroom, and no more mean words shared between the two of you that once flew so fast. In the early hours of the night, you finally had the chance to have the heart-to-hearts you missed out on when you were angry at each other over nothing important. She had grown up just as much as you had, and it almost pained you to see a woman standing in the shoes of the little girl you best knew her as.

Being in your hometown was different, and you had spent little time there since your studies began. Mostly for a few days during the holidays, and rarely any other time. When Mel pitched the idea of moving out of dorms and into an apartment, the visits grew much less frequent and when they did happen, it wasn’t usually for very long. You didn’t have many friends left in Frankenmuth, if any at all. The town was strange, a former village in which you had built a life that was now completely abandoned. Shops you used to love closed down for good and replaced with something new, old hideaways being changed into modern corporate hellscapes. Every year, there seemed to be new buildings lining the streets and different faces regularly appearing on sidewalks. It was home, for sure, but nowhere near as comfortable as it used to be. When you blundered around the town, you felt like a stranger visiting for the first time, learning everything all over again.

“Hey,” Mel caught your attention, pulling a cork board from your closet that had pictures tacked to the surface and small paper decorations in between. “Ms. Fishers sixth grade graduation!” She exclaimed, pointing to the banner of cardstock paper tacked to the top, the letters outlined with black sharpie and filled in with coloured marker. You laughed at the sight, realizing you hadn’t seen that board in years as you stepped towards her.

“That’s me!” You exclaimed, pointing to you standing in the mini-graduation gown at the very end of the front row. The class picture was sweet, but it made you wonder where everyone else in the class ended up. After all these years, were they nearing twenty five with no clue where they were headed, just like you? Or were they settled down with families, finding full time jobs and building lives with the people they loved?

The thought was saddening to you, making you realize how far away you were from getting to that point. A relationship was laughable, barely mentioning marriage and kids. In your six years of university, you had your fair share of hookups and flings, but never anything serious. You couldn’t seem to find anyone who you connected with further than physical attraction, and certainly nobody you would be willing to spend your life with. So far, the only compatible relationship for living was the girl standing next to you, and you were certain at some point, she would be ready to move on to something different.

“Look at this,” you stepped past her, grinning as you grabbed a cowboy hat from one of the handmade shelves at the top of your closet. Your dad, when he was still a good dad, made it for you so you could have some extra space. You placed the hat on your head, tilting it downwards over your face as you struck a pose. The dollar store gemstones you hot glued to the top glimmered under the light, making the sight even more ridiculous.

“What is that?” She asked, caught in a fit of laughter as she looked at the poorly decorated hat.

“I got really into spirit days at school.” You shrugged, tossing the hat in the pile of throwaway items.

“Loser.” She muttered, reaching for an old sports jacket suspended on a hanger. “Volleyball?” She questioned, raising an eyebrow as she read the words embroidered on the back.

“Yeah, tenth grade and never again. Coach was a bitch.” You explained, reaching for it to see if it still fit. As you made a move to slip it over your shoulders, you froze in place, knowing that even if it did fit, you would never wear it again. Instead, you threw it in the pile of clothes you were planning to drop off at the thrift store.

“Oh, cool!” You exclaimed, a shiny trophy catching your eye, hidden in the back corner of the top shelf. You brought it down, flashing it in her direction so she could read the gold panel.

“1st place…. Frankenmuth Middle School Relay?” She asked, unsure of what the award was for.

“Big race we used to do at the end of the year. Think the teachers got sick of lesson planning, so they brought us to the soccer field to do a bunch of activities. I was the fastest in the class that year.” You said, proud of the achievement as you placed it back upon the shelf.

“Is this a diary?” She asked, hauling an old leather bound book from a stack of papers and magazines.

“Yes,” you cackled, snatching it from her hands and flipping it open to a random page. “Let’s see… April 30th, 2010.” You cleared your throat for dramatic effects, beginning to read the entry aloud. “Today, in English class, Liam S. was totally checking me out. He’s definitely not the cutest guy in the class, but he’s funny, and he’s so nice. I hope he asks me to the spring dance, mom got me a new dress and everything!”

“And did Liam S. sweep you off your feet that night?” She asked, pulling her hands to her heart as she let out an airy sigh.

“No, but we did date.” You explained. “For three weeks, until I broke up with him for rating me too low on a hot or not list.”

“What!?” She exploded, her voice shrill as an echoing laugh boomed through the room.

“Yeah, apparently I only had the fourth best ass in the class.” You scoffed, quickly reading a little further into the book. You used to sit in your bedroom for hours at night, pouring your heart out on to the paper just for it to be forgotten in a mess of items in your room. “It’s funny, you know. I used to carry this thing with me everywhere, and I barely even remembered it existed.”

“Yeah, there was lots of stuff that I did the same thing with. Used to be a prized possession, now they just collect dust on a shelf somewhere.” She muttered, pulling out a large box sitting in the back corner. “And for the record, I bet you had the best ass out of anyone at that school.” She clarified, plopping the cardboard down on your mattress.

“No, I definitely didn’t.” You laughed, looking to the door as you heart a small pitter-patter of paws against the linoleum floor. The jingle of the bell around the collar signified your suspicions were correct, and when a fuzzy head peeked around the corner, you greeted him with excitement. “The man himself, Blizzard of Ozz: Prince of Fucking Darkness!” You exclaimed, watching as the tubby black cat raised his tail and rubbed himself up against the doorframe. He let out a meow in response to your voice, happily trotting over to greet you.

“Don’t call him by his full name unless he does something wrong!” Mel scolded, reaching down to pick him up as he rubbed against her leg. “He won’t take us seriously if we use it all the time.” She plopped him down on the bed, the sound of his purring loud enough to reach both of your ears. He sniffed around the boxes a few times, nudging his face against the corner of the cardboard flaps to investigate the item taking up his place on the mattress.

“I don’t think he ever really takes us seriously, Mel.” You furrowed your brows together, looking from her to the small animal curiously meandering around the bed. “He gets treats and new toys every day, and we kiss him on the head after we scold him because we feel too bad about it.”

“Right, so don’t give away the last bit of power we have left.” She said, fixing the tag on his collar that somehow adorned his entire name in small print.

The cat was spoiled, loved so wholly and deeply by the two of you that sometimes you believed he was in charge. After a particularly rough exam week in your second last year of school, the two of you took a break from studying and took a walk downtown to clear your mind. You stopped at a coffee shop a few blocks away from your apartment building, where you found him, keeping content by playing with empty coffee cups in the nearby alleyway. Being two kindhearted people, you couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him behind. Within two weeks, he had made himself at home in your apartment, and not long after that, in your hearts, too. He went with you on every adventure; his harness being on more often than not. He tagged along in every road trip, and neither of you ever thought once about leaving him behind as you moved across the country again.

He was a witty and clever little thing, always sneaking into places he shouldn’t be and never allowing himself to go unnoticed. The minute you stepped in a room, he was squeaking at you to pet him, and never did he allow either of you to sit alone on the couch. He took turns sleeping with the both of you, and was happier than ever now that you shared a bed and he didn’t have to pick.

And yes, his full name was The Man Himself, Blizzard of Ozz: Prince of Fucking Darkness.

Oftentimes, Ozz sufficed.

The cat actually went unnamed for quite some time after you brought him home. Neither of you seemed keen on the names being suggested, so for a while, he went by ‘Mr. Man.’ Or some odd arangement of classic terms of endearment that got stranger by the day. Then, when the two of you found yourselves a little too high off some weed you bought from an upperclassman, the name made its first appearance. You both took turns rambling ridiculous titles for him, until you took a leap of faith and rattled off the first thing you thought of when Crazy Train played from your Bluetooth speaker. The laughing was so intense it brought the both of you to tears, and from there, it seemed to stick.

Now, you couldn’t think of a better name to call him, even if it was a little ridiculous.

Careful not to disturb him, Mel reached forward into the box, lifting a few items from it. Ozz busied himself by chewing on the cardboard flap, not privy to the woman beside him at all. “What’s all this stuff?” She asked, looking over a few sheets of Monopoly money, a cracked mirror from the dollar store, and a deck of playing cards.

“That must be the stuff I cleared out of my locker in senior year.” You said, turning your head downwards and peeking inside. “Yeah, it definitely is.” You confirmed, pulling out a set of string lights with a battery pack attached. “It’s all junk, you can throw it out.” You dismissed it, ready to move on to something new.

“Are you sure?” She asked, looking between you and the box with great hesitancy. You casted another sideways glance, your lips pursing together as you wondered if it was worth your time.

Something in your heart told you not to jump so fast, to think about it a moment longer before discarding the memories away so easily. You tried not to be a sentimental person, because you found that sentiments only seemed to hurt you rather than bring you comfort. You used to be that type of person, so many moons ago when life was simple and the most you had to worry about was a surplus of homework and no pocket change to spend. Now, you thought it was ridiculous, and you did everything you could to draw a line between memories and objects. Items could not hurt, just the same as they could not be happy. They were objects, inanimate and unable to mean more than what you made them to be.

But there was something about that fucking box, like it was fate for you to rediscover all the things that awaited you inside.

“Let’s go through it.” You said, changing your mind as your skin prickled with curiosity. The emotion that took hold was unfamiliar, confusing and unsettling when you thought about throwing it away. It washed over you so quickly that you couldn’t even think of anything else, and you wondered if you were the very thing psyching yourself up for nothing, or if there was a reason you felt such a pull to the old items inside.

You sat on the side of your bed, your hands landing on the very corners as you gripped at the soft sheets lining the mattress. As you did so, a twang of hurt filled your chest, passing almost as soon as it came. You blinked hard, your eyes wandering the room as you tried to comprehend the sudden change in yourself. Your eyebrows furrowed together, your mind racing as you looked at the old chestnut dresser that stood next to the door, standing prominently against the crimson paint on the walls. The scene was so familiar, just like the melancholic emotion that came along with it. The hurt in your heart seemed right as you sat on the edge of your bed, but you didn’t know why.

“Are you okay?” Mel asked, also noticing the shift in your demeanor. Your head snapped towards her, your eyes glossy with the feeling that plagued you, but you nodded your head and tried your hardest to snap yourself out of it.

“Yeah, just a nasty little bit of deja-vu, I think.” You breathed, your eyes wandering back to the empty door frame. Whatever your brain wanted you to remember was pertinent to you, but you couldn’t seem to put it together yet. You felt like you’d been in the exact position before, but you couldn’t place it.

“I get it,” she empathized, taking a seat next to you and placing the box on the floor in front of her. “It’s a lot seeing all of your old stuff, like a lifetime you’ve completely forgotten about.”

“Yeah,” you laughed, the sound airy and forced. “I haven’t thought about high school in so long that it kind of just seems like a different world, now. I kind of forced myself to stop thinking about it, because it hurt too bad, you know? And I guess after a while, I blocked it out completely.” She knew what you meant, because in the entire time you’d known her, you had been unreasonably stingy with stories from your high school days. Every time she mentioned it, you seemed to go to a different place entirely, like you were using all of your energy to ensure the memories wouldn’t resurface. She respected you enough not to ask, but it was impossible to run away from now that you were standing face to face with the very things you tried so hard to stay away from.

“We don’t have to go through this, if you don’t want to.” She assured you, watching your face as your eyes fluttered towards the box.

“I do and I don’t.” You tried your best to explain how you felt, hesitant to reach out and explore the items before you, but gutted at the prospect of throwing it in the trash. “I feel like I’ve grown so much and I’m so different, and I don’t need to see any of this stuff again, but there’s something telling me I have to look through it all, that if I don’t, I’m going to regret it for the rest of my life.” She bargained with your words before she responded, carefully considering all you had to say.

“Seems like you’re looking for something, but you don’t know what it is.” She offered the idea with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Yeah, maybe.” You muttered, finally harnessing enough courage to reach forward and sort through the mess of items.

Underneath a pile of loose papers, you found your old graduation cap. You held it in your hands, your fingers drifting over the silky, light blue fabric. You let your hand drift downward, running through the red threads of the tassel that dangled from the top. You placed it to the side, finding little comfort in the item at all. Below that lay a tattered AP Biology textbook, the front cover frayed and littered with marks from the students who used it before (and remembered to return it). There was an old pencil case stuffed to the brim with writing utensils and erasers. When you pulled it open, you found a folded up note from a fellow friend that was much too faded to read.

The more you pulled out, the stronger the tugging in your heart felt. Photographs of you and your old friends, bent and torn, floated loosely around the box. You took the time to study every one of them, saddened at how estranged you’d become from them. You didn’t talk to anyone from your hometown, and although you thought cutting contact was for the best, it only seemed to hurt as you recalled the sleepovers and adventures you engaged in with people who didn’t know you any longer. It all hurt.

Why did it hurt so fucking bad?

Sitting on the edge of the bed, boxes packed and the lingering scent of your mother’s favourite lavender candle hanging thick in the air. The chestnut boards of the dresser that once stored your entire wardrobe, the tile underneath your feet, impossibly cold despite the summer heat radiating through the panel windows by your bedside. Reruns of Dr. Phil on the television downstairs, the hum of a song stuck in your head despite no tune playing at all.

You’ve been here, in this exact position, hurting over something with the same fervor as you felt in the moment. It was so far away. Why couldn’t you remember?

For once, six years after leaving the town, you were aching to remember the memories and the love that was contained within the walls of the home, but you couldn’t. You pushed it so far away that the life you once led in Michigan no longer felt like your own. It was hazy, fuzzy around the corners every time you tried to recollect a scene. The voices were warbled, echoing somewhere deep behind your eyes and not quite loud enough to reach your ears.

Why did you try so hard to forget? Why did you force it away so desperately?

Then, the world stopped.

No person beside you, no curious cat nudging your hand. Dr. Phil had gone silent, and the air wasn’t even filled with the sweet notes of vanilla laced in unison with lavender. The creaks and groans of the old house ceased to exist, and the mattress below you disintegrated to nothing. You were stuck, frozen in time, floating amidst a cloud of smoke that wouldn’t clear. Your lungs burned for air, your heart threatening to explode under the weight of emotion. Your mind was repeating the same thing over and over again, incessantly reminding you, forcing you to remember everything you had hidden away in hopes of closure.

Instead of your voice, it was his, saying the same words that were written in silver sharpie on the lid of the tiny, black shoebox.

So let’s make it last.

“Oh, god.” You wheezed out the words, feeling like you were suffocating from the plethora of pain encasing your body. In an instant, six years spent dedicated to forgetting suddenly dissolved into one, terrifying storm of reminiscing.

The box.

The box.

That’s why you couldn’t throw it away.

“What is wrong, Y/N?” Mel asked, urgent as if she’d already asked a hundred times.

Little to your knowledge, she had, but you were too busy listening to the sweet sound of Jake Kiszka’s voice, stored so pristinely in the deepest depths of your mind.

“The shoebox.” You squeaked, raising a shaky finger to point her attention towards the poorly painted over Vans logo.

“So, what? What is it?”

What is it? It was everything.

It was a box full of love, sealed so long ago and hidden away for safekeeping when you couldn’t part from the physical reminders of the boy who forever had your heart. It was years worth of memories, years worth of emotion you hadn’t let yourself feel since you locked it away.

“That should be everything, my love.” Your mom crooned, placing the last movie ticket stub inside the box and sending a sorrowful look your way. Your tear stained cheeks were too much for her to bear, but she loved you enough to stand witness to the biggest heartbreak of your life. She loved you enough to put her own hurt aside, just to ease yours, to alleviate you from being the one to close the book on the chapter that hurt you the most. “What do you want to do with it, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know.” You drew in a shaky breath, holding in a wail that was begging to escape you.

It had been 110 days since you had broken up with Jake, since you left him with sad eyes and a heart that bled only for you standing in your driveway, the ghost of his last ‘I love you’ still on his lips. It had been 110 days of the most gut wrenching, exhausting, and excruciating pain you had ever felt.

The snow stuck to the ground, the frost nipping at your nose when you stepped outside, and the Christmas tree standing tall in your living room told you that the season had passed and the world was still turning, but you felt stuck in that sticky summer day in August, tears on your cheeks and love on the tip of your tongue as you spent your last night with him. It was the first time you’d been home since then, the first time stepping foot in your bedroom after creating your most haunting memory within it.

You knew you needed to get over him, but you did not know how.

How do you move on from someone who loved you so completely and wholly? How do you stop lamenting about better days that have since passed and will never return? How do you keep going, knowing you would never hold his hand again, feel his touch, or appreciate the sweetness of his kiss? How could you move on when you did not hate him? When his memory still existed in your mind and he was still that perfect person?

The memory of him lived within the walls of your house still, his shampoo still lingering on your pillowcase and his love still in the air. The reminders of your relationship existed in every corner of your bedroom, on the walls, in picture frames, and in the threads of your sheets and blankets. Even now, with the pictures and love notes and dried flowers contained in a single box, you had no idea how to get him out of your head.

“Wait,” you sniffled, watching your mom begin to close the top of the box. You couldn’t stand to do it yourself. You tumbled down the stairs, a mess of tears on your face and a pain in your heart growing larger by the second, begging her to help you gut the last remaining proof of your relationship from the walls. “There’s one more thing.” You confessed, reaching down into your book bag. 

For 110 days, you kept it so close, carrying it with you wherever you went and playing it through the disc drive in your laptop every night to fall asleep. Now, you knew that you would never be able to move on, especially not if you continued to hold on to the memory so tightly.

With an unsteady hand and a heaving chest, you handed her the plastic CD case. Her eyes traveled over the faded writing on the disk itself, and her heart ached for you. Slowly, she placed it underneath the rest of the items, hiding it from sight to make it easier on you.

“I’m gonna keep this, and I’ll put it somewhere safe, lovebug.” She said, finally closing the top to the shoebox and sealing the memories inside forevermore. “Why don’t you go take a nice bath? I’ve got a bottle of wine downstairs with your name on it, but only this time.” She offered, reaching out and tucking your hair behind your ear. “Tomorrow, we’ll go out and do something, all three of us. That sound good?”

Of course she understood; five years ago, she sat in her bedroom, hurting just the same over a man who left her without a second thought. Who left all of you without a second thought. The only true healer was time, and right now, time was not your friend. You could lean on her, ask her for help, hold her hand, because she knew how you felt, and she’d felt that way many times before you even knew what it meant.

“That sounds good.” You breathed, closing your eyes and squeezing out the last of the tears brimming the lids.

“I’ll change your sheets for you, too.” She said, standing with the box clutched tightly in her hand. “It hurts right now, my love, but it won’t feel this way forever. I promise.”

It won’t feel this way forever.

Oh how wrong she was, even if the truth didn’t come in the way she meant it.

It did hurt forever, but it was not constant.

Four years it’s been since his name crossed your mind, four years of sleeping soundly and four years free of regret that plagued you so viciously. You were so tired of hurting that you forced yourself to forget; you erased every memory of him from your brain with the help of alcohol and meaningless hookups. You went home with a new guy every night, promising yourself that with new hands on you, you would forget the feeling of his. You buried yourself in school, studying so intently and for so long that your eyes crossed and you had a constant migraine. You deleted him and his family off every social platform, because despite going no contact that first ever week at university, you still stayed up at night, torturing yourself as you scrolled through Instagram and Facebook. You deleted every picture you ever took of him, knowing that if the temptation was there, you would submit to it. Worst of all, you vowed to never speak his name again, just so you could forget how good it felt rolling off your tongue.

You purged him from your life entirely, and it worked so well that he hadn’t been a passing thought in your mind in years. It was not because you hated him, not because you wanted to forget him. You did it out of necessity, knowing that every time you reminisced on the beautiful memories you made with him, it took a little more of your soul. For nearly two years, Jake Kiszka plagued every thought you ever had. You abstained from relationships and romance as a whole, because you knew nobody would ever be able to replace him. You needed to forget him, or else it would have killed you. You loved Jake so utterly and completely, even two years after you broke up, even after never speaking his name again, that it forced you to drown his memory. Every time you thought of him, you forced yourself to think of something else. Every time his face was pictured, perfect in your mind, you made yourself look at something else.

After so long, it became a habit, and now, it was a way of life.

But, even so, as you stared down at the silver writing, you knew deep in your heart that no matter how much forgetting you did, you never stopped loving.

“—earth to Y/N!” A hand waved in front of your face, breaking your staring contest with the Vans box decorated in silver sharpie. You could remember writing it, the sobs that shook your shoulders and the aching of your heart. The shakiness of the letters retold the story as clear as day.

After six years, you were still hopelessly in love with Jake, and one fear you always had remained true; nobody in the entire world could compare to him, and nobody else ever loved you in the same way he did.

Not that you let them, and not that they tried.

So let’s make it last.

How, after so long of refusing to think of the man, did he still have such a drastic effect on you? How were you still so caught up on someone you fell for when you were fifteen?

Out of all the questions, that one seemed the easiest to answer; you were still pining for him, because every version of you after fifteen loved him more than the last.

“Christ, you’re scaring me.” Mel tried again, her hand landing on your shoulder in a desperate attempt to pull your attention back to her. Your head finally snapped in her direction, your lungs searing from the lack of oxygen as you drew in a long overdue breath. “Are you okay?” She was panicked, her eyes wide and her expression coated with her fear. Never once had she seen you in such a state, and she was clueless as to why you were taken from her so quickly.

“I…” you trailed off, shaking your head in an attempt to clear your mind. It felt like a million memories were washing over you at once, stuck in an endless stream of thoughts that you forced yourself to ignore for so long. “That box.” You finally huffed out, your eyes shining with the same heartbreak you felt all of those years ago. Time did not change the intensity in which you hurt over losing him, even if you convinced yourself that it did.

“What about that box?” She asked, trying to pry it out of you. It was a rough subject, not only because it was hurting you so badly, but because aside from your mother, you had never spoken a word about Jake to anyone.

She was your best friend, your partner in crime and everything good in the world, but this was a heartache she had not touched, yet. It was one you stored so deep down that not even you touched it anymore, and in order to answer the question, you would have to tell her everything.

“What isn’t in that box?” Your rhetoric was full of refrain, like the words fought a daunting battle to even pass through your mouth. Your heartbeat was so strong that you could feel it surging through your entire body, under your skin and behind your eyes, all the way to the very tips of your toes. Your face was burning, your throat dry and your eyes sad as you finally reached forward. Your fingers grazed over the surface, collecting a layer of dust as they traced the words. “My whole life is in this box, Mel. The very reason my heart beats.” You whispered, picking it up and placing it in your lap.

“I don’t like it when you get poetic.” She let out a nervous laugh, looking between your face and the item in your hands as she awaited further explanation.

“I don’t know if I can explain it without showing you.” You admitted, your finger gently running over the lip of the cardboard where the cover sat flush with the rest.

“If it’s so important, how did you forget about it? And more importantly, why have I never heard of it?” She asked, trying to make sense of it all. You couldn’t blame her for being so confused—in all of the time you’ve known her, this was the only thing you had ever kept from her.

“You know when something hurts so much that it feels impossible to survive? Like if you don’t stop thinking about it, it will be the only thing you ever think about?” You began, your eyes fluttering closed as a sad smile crossed your lips.

“Yeah, I guess.” She replied, her tone softening as she realized the seriousness of the situation.

“This is one of those things. It was the most beautiful part of my whole life, but now that it’s gone, it’s horrible to remember. It took me two years to get over it, and even then, I never really did. I just got better at bottling it up and ignoring it, and eventually, it became a habit. This hurt so bad that I had to forget about it, because if I didn’t, I would have spent the rest of my life stuck in it, rather than making something new for myself.”

“Ooookayy.” She drew the word out for dramatic effect, her humorous tone usually uplifting you in times of crisis, but not even this time could it begin to ease the feeling of hurt in your heart.

With a breath of courage you did not have, you flipped open the lid. You did not look inside straight away, instead finding yourself staring at the empty section of wall between your door and your dresser, remembering the sight that was there so long ago. Jake, teary-eyed with flowers from his backyard and a CD he’d worked so hard to make, clad in a sweater that he wore only because you bought it for him. You wondered what he looked like now, if he’d recognize you if he stood before you again. You smiled gently to yourself as you recollected the softness of his features, the warmth in his dark eyes, feeling a sense of comfort wash over you that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Where was he, now? Was he halfway across the world, living his dream and playing guitar on stage every night? He used to talk about it so often that you thought it would be a shame if he let that passion go to waste. Was Josh alongside him, still annoying him beyond belief and loving him in a way only a twin brother could? Was his hair long, flowing past his shoulders and cascading down his back, just like he told you he wanted it to? Was his smile the same, toothy and goofy enough to make you fall in love at the first glance?

There were so many things you wanted to know, gutted that Jake existed in the world somewhere and you were not a witness to the light he added to it. You were in agony knowing that there wasn’t just one, but so many versions of him you never got to know, just the same as he never got to experience the many different versions of you. You hated yourself for never reaching out, for locking up that part of your heart and throwing it away, but you had to. It was necessary for survival, and you didn’t want to lose yourself to a stranger who might not even be the boy you once loved so desperately.

Then again, a small part of you knew that no matter how strange Jake would be to you now, he would still be just as lovable and just as beautiful.

Your heart ached at the thought of him being grown, now, likely wrapped up in someone else’s arms who could love him more than you could at the time. Back then, you thought that letting him go was the best way to show how much you loved him, but six years later, you understood he was the type of person you never should have let slip through your fingers. You wondered if he ever thought of you, or if he went through the same turmoil that caused you to shut out his memory completely. You swallowed down the lump in your throat when you realized he likely didn’t, because Jake was always much too grand to be caught up on someone as mediocre as you.

Forcing yourself out of the maddening thoughts, your eyes trailed down to the items inside the box. Carefully, you picked out a pile of movie tickets, sifting through them and trying not to get stuck in every memory of every theater date the two of you had.

“In high school, I met a boy who turned my whole world upside down.” You whispered, squeezing your eyes shut as you passed the tickets to Mel. “He was everything anyone could ever want. He was the type of person that made it impossible not to love him.” You explained, feeling the scratch of tears in your throat as you grabbed a ziplock bag full of dried wildflowers and petals from bouquets. “He was a real romantic, always buying flowers and writing love notes. He walked with me to school before he got his license, and drove me as soon as he did. He was my best friend, and unfortunately, probably the best love of my entire life.”

“What was his name, love?” Mel asked, taking the bag of flowers from your hand so you could continue the walk down memory lane.

“Jacob,” the name felt like gold on your tongue, the taste sweet and the warmth otherworldly. “I called him Jake.” You pulled out a torn journal page, folded neatly and begging to be read. Carefully, you opened it up, letting your eyes drift over the familiar scrawl of his messy handwriting. “We dated for three years. Liam S. had nothing on him, and I met Jake not long after the hot or not debacle.” You laughed quietly, your eyes crinkling in the corners as you realized how happy you were that Liam turned out to be an asshole. Because of his childish behavior, the best years of your life happened. “I’ve never been so thankful to have my heart broken by someone, because if I stayed with Liam, I never would have met Jake. I was skipping class one day because I couldn’t stand the thought of being near Liam after that god awful list, and I ran into Jake, skipping because he couldn’t stand the thought of being in History class. Was fate, I guess. We were inseparable after that.”

You took a moment, swallowing back the pain and blinking away tears as you pulled note after note from the box, each one more painful than the last. There were doodles, stick figures of the two of you holding hands, and hearts dancing around your heads. Jake always had a special way of expressing his love, and he did it in every way he could. It was always lighthearted, never too serious but always fully expressing the tellings of his heart. He wrote you love notes because he wasn’t good at saying it aloud, and he drew terrible pictures when words failed him. At the end of the day, he was a teenage boy, but he was so much better than the rest of them.

“We did everything together. So many days spent at the lake, and so many nights spent talking in this bed. We used to sneak out on the roof and look at the stars every night, because there’s a ledge on the attic window that makes it easy to get up there. He listened and never made me feel stupid, and he loved me so much that I never had to question it. He used to drive my sister to her basketball practices when mom was at work, and he’d sit with me the whole time, happy to do it. He was quiet, but everything he said was worth listening to. He was funny, and so kind. The biggest heart I’ve ever seen on anyone.” You felt yourself choke up, the surplus of emotion becoming too much for you to hold back.

“What happened?”

“Life did.” You responded, simple enough as you continued to sort through the box. There were tickets to school sports games, tokens from the local arcade, and all of the guitar picks that fell from his pocket into your bed. There were unopened ring pops, because he’d buy you one at the corner store every time you stopped, forever promising that it would be a real ring someday. Your entire relationship was in the box, staring you in the face with a ferocious grin as you recounted the mistakes you made. “Him and I were always different. He had a dream of being in a band. He hated school and everything that came along with it. He played soccer, he loved to have fun, and he smoked cigarettes. He wouldn’t listen no matter how many times I told him it was bad for him. I loved school, I was good at it, and I wanted to go to the best university I could get into. I didn’t drink all that much, and I stayed in more often than not. For three years, it never phased us, and we loved each other no matter how different we were. It still seemed right.”

“Until it wasn’t?”

“Not even then.” You chuckled, pulling out an old Polaroid picture.

As your eyes landed on the two of you, laying in the long grass in the field at the old park, you felt the knife twist in your stomach. He was smiling, the grin lighting up his whole face as he held you in his arms. You were between his legs, your back against his chest and your arms atop his, wrapped around you. You were in his clothes, your hair falling over your face that was nearly washed out from the flash of the camera. You could remember the feeling like he was behind you now, the rattle of his chest as he laughed and the warmth of his body against yours. The deep amber of his cologne lingered in your nose, and the sweetness of his kiss still remained on your lips.

In that moment, you thanked God that Josh was there to take the picture. Even now, even after all the hurt, the memory was so precious to you and you wished so badly to be there one more time, just for a minute.

“We talked about it for a long time, what would happen when I left for school. I knew I was going far away, and he knew he was going to stay here. Maybe if I went to school closer, the outcome would have been different.” You shrugged, acting nonchalantly about one of the thoughts that often plagued your entire life. “We decided long distance wasn’t right for us. I didn’t want to hold him down, and he didn’t want to hold me back. We loved each other so much that we let each other go, believing it was for the best. I can’t speak for him, but for me, it was far from the best. It was the worst, actually.” You explained, looking at a few other Polaroids in the box. “We broke up the night before I went to school. Or the morning of, I guess.” You corrected yourself, your fingers going in search of the only thing you truly wanted to see.

“And that was it? You never talked to him again.”

“No.” You shook your head. “Never again ‘cept for a few days after I got there.” Your fingertips found the hard plastic case, pulling it out from the very bottom of the box. Origami flowers went flying, the ones you made for him but never had the chance to give him, and a few guitar picks fluttered to the floor. “That night, he gave me this.” You flashed it in her direction. She reached out, taking it from your hands so she could read the words written on the disk. “I remember exactly what he said, and it fucking killed me, Mel.”

“Eight songs, Y/N. I sat there for hours, listening to as much music as I could. I sorted through my dad’s old vinyl records, and all of the CD’s Josh and I could find in the house. I searched for lyrics on the internet, I even asked my mom if she had any ideas.” Jake explained, taking a step closer to you. There was a small plastic case in one of his hands, a bushel of hand picked wildflowers in his other, and a look in his eyes that made your heart ache with all of the pain you had been holding back. “This is it; eight songs that tell you exactly how I feel about you. Four that tell you how much I love you, and four that tell you everything you need to know about how I feel about you leaving.”

You recounted the memory aloud, the quiver of sadness in your tone too loud to ignore. “For three months, I listened to this every night to go to sleep. I carried the CD with me everywhere I went, until I came home for Christmas and mom and I decided it was best that I put all of this stuff away. I was torturing myself, loving someone I couldn’t have. That’s why when I met you, I never wanted to leave your side. I was recovering from this, and I had nobody.”

“So he’s the reason you listened to that Pearl Jam song on repeat all of the time?” She asked, thinking back on the state you constantly found yourself in.

“Yeah,” you laughed, nodding as a tear rolled down your cheek. “Black. That was the song.”

“Right, how could I forget?” She chuckled, humming the tune to herself. “I know someday you’ll have a beautiful life, I know you’ll be a star in somebody else’s…” she sang to herself, trailing off as she realized why the words spoke so loudly to you.

“Sky.” You finished, unable to leave it hanging. “But why can’t it be mine, right?” You forced a smile on your face, trying to joke, but both of you knew it was not funny to you.

“Why did you never tell me about him?” She asked, looking at you with sadness in her own eyes. She was grieving the love with you, like a true best friend would.

“Lots of reasons, I suppose.” You sniffled back another wave of tears, your voice now infiltrated with the sadness that once only ravished your heart. It was taking over again, like it did so long ago when you vowed to shut it out. “Guess I didn’t want to scare you away, and I didn’t really want to bring that memory to school with me. The dorm and the apartment walls, all of the buildings…. That sadness never touched that, you know? He was never there, his memory didn’t live in the place like it does here. I thought if I never talked about it, it would never hurt as bad there as it did here, that night.”

“But it did anyway.”

“It did.” You agreed, clearing your throat slightly. “For a really long time. I spent two years thinking of him, dreaming of him. I wanted him so bad, and it never went away with time like all of the Reddit forums said it would.” You laughed at your own stupidity, shaking your head at all the time you spent reading breakup advice from faceless strangers on the internet. “One day, I had to stop. I was my own worst enemy, listening to all the music we used to listen to together, living in the memories at night when I was alone in bed, picturing him beside me, holding my hand. I deleted him off all my social media, and his family, too. I erased all the pictures, and I drank and partied so much that I couldn’t think about anything, let alone him. I studied so much that I dreamt about Shakespeare, and every time I thought of his name, I shoved it so far to the back of my mind that I couldn’t possibly find it again. I forced myself to forget it all, to pretend it never happened so one day, I could believe it.”

“I told myself new memories would replace the old ones, and after a while they did. Christ, when we came here he wasn’t even a passing thought in my head, but I could feel this lingering sadness in the air, looming over my head all of the time. I didn’t get it until now, when I saw the box, and it all came back at once. I shoved it so far down that I tricked my brain into blocking it out, but when it’s in your face like that… it’s hard to keep it out.” You finished, closing your eyes to regain yourself. “That’s why you lost me for a while, I guess.”

“So you haven’t had any contact with this guy? Like, at all? You don’t know what he looks like, where he lives…?”

“Nothing.” You assured her. “If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s ignoring a problem so much that it ceases to exist.”

“But it does exist, and it still hurts.” She explained. “You don’t date, you don’t try to meet guys, you hate the idea of love, and this is why, Y/N. If it’s been six years and you still feel that way, maybe you should reach out.” She offered, looking over the CD once again.

“As if,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at the idea. “He wouldn’t even remember me, Mel. It’s been so long, I’m sure he’s long moved past us. He’s the type of guy everyone loves, so I’m sure he’s found someone who treats him really well. He deserves that, not the girl from high school who broke his and her own heart.”

“Maybe we should just look at his instagram, just to see what he looks like?” She asked, pulling out her phone.

“No.” You said, reaching out and holding her phone down. “I don’t want to, Mel. I stopped keeping up with him for a reason. All it does is hurt me more.”

“Okay.” She conceded, placing her phone back on the bed. “Since we’re already sad, why don’t we listen to the music? Why don’t you tell me about the songs?”

“Nosy.” You snipped, but shot a playful smile her way.

“Obviously.” She huffed. “My best friend just told me about a boyfriend I’ve never heard of before, who is apparently the greatest love of her life. I want to know everything that I didn’t know I was missing.”

“I don’t know…” you trailed off, eyeing the messy handwriting on the surface of the disk. “I’d just be reopening old wounds. I don’t know if that’s what I should be doing while I’m trying to start my life.”

“Seems like they’re already open, Y/N.” She said, raising an eyebrow. “Just one song?” You watched her face for a moment, your heart racing at the thought of playing that first track. At the same time, an overwhelming sense of calm washed over you at the idea, like an addict finally in reach of a fix. It had been so long since you let yourself enjoy the music that spoke his love for you, and the thought of hearing it again made your heart soar. It had been so long since you felt such an abundance of love like that, and you understood that it couldn’t hurt more than it already was.

“Yeah, okay.” You sighed, carefully placing all the items back in the box. You sat it beside you on the bed, slowly standing to your feet. You grabbed the disk from her hand, navigating through the mess on the floor and plopping down in the computer chair nestled in the corner of your room. You hunched over; searching through the drawers of your desk until you exactly found what you were looking for. “A-ha.” You muttered to yourself, pulling out the old CD player and the speakers you had to go with it. The cords were tangled, wrapping around all of them and knitting together to make the task even more daunting for you. “I haven’t used this in years.” You said, your fingers carefully unraveling the tangled mess of the cords.

“Used it? Y/N, I haven’t even seen one since middle school.” You chuckled, plugging the player into the outlet on the wall beside you.

“I only ever used it to listen to this.” You clarified, wiping the dust from the surface with the bottom of your already dirty t-shirt. You popped the top open, carefully taking the disc from its holder and placing it inside. You shut it, trying to read the faded white print on the black surface to find the play button. Eventually, you hit start, and the air filled with a static silence, the whirring of the machine the only thing filling your ears.

You leaned back in your chair, closing your eyes as you braced yourself for the impact of that first note. Your palms were clammy, your chest tight and your stomach swirling with nausea. Even as horrible as you felt, knowing what was to come, the feeling was comforting, familiar even. You felt it so many times, huddled in that exact chair with your knees pulled to your chest. You felt it in your dorm room, tears clouding your vision as you tried to hide yourself under the covers and disappear from the world. You knew this feeling better than anything else, and you had every scratch and pause on the track memorized so well that you could recite it in your sleep.

Even so, it didn’t seem to stop the wave of grief that washed over you when the first strum of the acoustic guitar filled the air.

You nearly doubled over in your seat, struck with an invisible force that was stronger than anything else. Your bones ached and your body felt heavy, your eyes aching as you squeezed them shut so tightly it made you see stars. The music that filled the room was quiet, but it felt like it was screaming at you, beating you down and berating you for being so foolish.

“Childhood living,

Is easy to do

The things you wanted

I bought them for you.”

Four years old, Barbie doll in hand and chocolate stains visible on your neon green shirt as you stood at the entryway of the kitchen. Your hair was wild, messy from a full day of playing outside. The summer air was sweeter than it had ever been, the color of the grass so prominent in your mind. Dandelion yellow stained your knees from kneeling on the abundant petals in the backyard. The clouds in the sky looked like cotton candy, and you pleaded with your mother to let you stay outside for just a moment longer.

Of course, she picked you up by the arms, scolding you with a smile as she told you that you wouldn’t be able to play if you were hungry. Dinner was waiting for you on the table, your favorite meal to top off the wondrous day of being completely carefree. For dessert, you split an ice cream sundae with your dad, doused in chocolate sauce and rainbow sprinkles. As your mom did the dishes, you watched a cartoon on the couch. When the sound of the water stopped and giggles filled the air, you couldn’t help but investigate, dreading missing out on a moment of fun.

When you peeked into the room, the kitchen table concealing you as you stood at perfect height, you did not see your mom hovering over the sink. Instead, you heard the static hum of the radio, the familiar song playing quietly. Your mother was in the middle of the room, dish towel still in her hand and a blinding smile on her face. Your father stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist and his head nuzzled in the crook of her neck. A smile that matched hers rested on his own lips as they swayed slowly, and he was singing her the lyrics as they passed through the speaker.

Although it was out of tune, off time, and nowhere near as good as Mick Jagger had sounded, it was perfect. To you and your mother, it was the best sound in the whole world, because when your dad sang it, it was full of love.

“Graceless lady

You know who I am

You know I can’t let you

Slide through my hands.”

Eight years old with your little sister by your side, the words passed through your fathers lips, but it wasn’t the same as it used to be. He was tired, withdrawn, singing the song with refrain in his eyes as he watched the hand your mother was holding. The love has lessened, the tune a habit rather than a gift. Things were different, and you chalked it up to age. One day you were certain your father would sing it again, with the very same love in his eyes he used to have.

“Wild horses

Couldn’t drag me away

Wild, wild horses

Couldn’t drag me away.”

The familiar song played through the closed door of your parents bedroom, but it was not framing a sweet moment. It had been on repeat for a day, now, and your father had left late the night before. Something deep in your soul told you he was not in there, nor was he singing it to her. Sometimes, when the music lulled, you could hear a muffled cry pass through the hollow door, cementing the notion in your head for good.

“I watched you suffer

A dull, aching pain

Now you’ve decided

To show me the same.”

At thirteen, you stood at the door of your parents bedroom, a lump in your throat as you watched your mother sleep away another afternoon. Your sister continued asking when your dad would be home, but the longer you stared at the half-empty room, the more you understood that the answer was something she couldn't quite understand. The longer you watched, the more you understood you’d never hear him sing that song again.

“No sweeping exits

Or offstage lines

Could make me feel bitter

Or treat you unkind.”

“Oh, God. Jake, please turn that off.” You pleaded, the melodic sound filling your stomach with dread. He looked back at you, nestled in his bed and safe under his blankets. He turned around in his desk chair, his head cocked to the side as he abandoned his math homework.

“What, you don’t like The Stones?” There was a careful kindness in his tone, wondering where your sudden discomfort came from but nervous to cross a line by asking.

“No, I do, just not this song.” You clarified, your heart racing in your chest as the hum of Jagger’s voice began to fill your ears. You tried so hard to stay calm, not to retaliate and cover your ears so you did not look like a child throwing a tantrum. Instantly, he reached over and lifted the needle from the spinning vinyl, placing it back on the holder. “I’m sorry, I just… I can’t listen to it.” You breathed, feeling a wave of relief wash over you as the song came to an abrupt stop.

“S’okay, sunshine. You don’t have to apologize for anything.” He promised, wheeling over to you as he noticed the discomfort in your eyes. He reached out, brushing your bangs from your eyes in an attempt to comfort you. “Why not?”

“Long story.” You whispered, your head sinking further down into his pillow.

“I always have time to listen to you.” He assured you, his thumb drifting over your cheek. Your eyes fluttered to meet his, the sight immediately calming your mind. You swallowed hard, leaning into his touch ever so slightly.

“My dad… he used to sing this to my mom. It was the best song in the whole world to us for so long.” You explained, fighting the distaste begging to leech into your tone. “They used to slow dance to it in the kitchen, and he’d sing it to us too, when we were sad. Then he fucking left, and mom listened to it over and over again, like it would bring him back. Guess it didn’t work out as well as she hoped it would.”

“I’m sorry, sunshine. I had no idea.” He hummed, his fingernails gently scratching over your scalp in hopes of soothing you.

“S’okay,” your eyes fluttered closed in bliss at the feeling. “Just sucks, ‘cause I used to love the song so much, and now it makes me sick.”

You didn’t understand back then, but now you knew why your mother played it so often. She was hoping it would bring him back, or hoping that it would make her feel close to him again. She was torturing herself in the same way that you tortured yourself with the exact CD you were listening to, then.

“Wild horses

Couldn’t drag me away

Wild, wild horses

Couldn’t drag me away.”

“I have something to show you, sunshine.” Jake's hand in yours felt right, just as it always did. His voice rang through your ears as you walked up the stairs to his bedroom. You had no idea what was awaiting you, but you knew if he had anything to do with it, it would be nothing short of fantastic.

“I know I dreamed you

A sin and a lie

I have my freedom

But I don’t have much time

Faith has been broken

Tears must be cried

Let’s do some living

After we die.”

You couldn’t stop the tears, running like waterfalls down your cheeks as Jake softly strummed at his dads old acoustic. The rasp in his voice paired with the quiver of nervousness made his singing all the more beautiful, and the sentiment behind his actions made your heart swell with joy. He was the most beautiful thing you’d ever laid eyes on, and you couldn’t believe he loved you so dearly.

His playing slowed to a stop, his anxious eyes flickering up to your face. As he noticed the trails of mascara streaked down your cheeks, his stomach dropped, fearful that he hurt you more than helped. You wanted to speak, to commend him for his gracious gesture, but words were failing you. You had never been so full of love in your life, not for anyone or anything, but he continued to amaze you with every day that passed.

“I’m sorry, beautiful. I never wanted to make you cry.” He stood, propping the guitar against his desk as he stepped towards you. His hands reached out, gently swiping away any lingering sadness on your face.

“No, Jake.” You shook your head, still choked up at the sweetness of the moment. “It was beautiful. So, so beautiful.” A small smile crossed his lips, and he crouched down to eye level, dreading overlooking a single moment of time with you. “Nobody’s ever done anything so nice for me.”

“I just… you said you loved the song, but you couldn’t listen to it anymore because it hurt too bad. I wanted to make the song good again, to make it hurt less.” He whispered, his brown eyes seemingly staring into your soul. “I don’t know if it worked, but I’d do anything for you, sunshine. I’ll do whatever I can to make you happy.”

“You do, Jake. You always do.” You felt tears falling from your eyes, but they were for a whole different reason than they were all of the times you heard the song before. He did exactly as he intended, and the song took on a whole different meaning. The bad hurt less, and the memory of Jake singing to you would be something you would never forget. He was everything, and you were so incredibly lucky to have him.

You reached toward, pausing the track before it could finish. Your chest was aching, your shoulders shaking with your tears as you felt Mel’s hands on your shoulders in support. She slid them downwards, and your hands raised in search of hers. Your head fell back, resting on her stomach as you tried to calm yourself down. It hurt the same every time; no matter how many years stood between the initial heartbreak, the thought of losing Jake had always been the worst one ever.

“Tell me about the song.” She whispered, pulling you out of your own head in hopes you’d share the sorrow with her, just to make it a little easier to digest.

With a shaky breath, you recounted the memories that you’d kept locked up for so long, finally allowing someone to help you carry the weight of them. She listened intently to every word you had to say, hanging on to the stories and keeping them as safe as you had the whole time. There was no one in the world you trusted quite like her, knowing that you could confess anything and she’d still extend a helping hand. You were lucky to have her, grateful to call her your best friend, but you knew that even she could not begin to ease the pain from this.

“I just… I wish things were different for us, you know? Like, I always knew we should have been more, that we shouldn’t have ended like that.” You let out a ragged sigh, finishing your retelling with the sentiment that haunted you for so long. “He tried to stay friends, and he tried so hard, but I had to stop. A few days after I got to school, I had to stop talking to him, because I loved him too much. Friends was torture back then, but now I feel stupid for cutting him off. Now I know that having him around would have been better than this.”

“Y/N, you have to reach out to him.” She urged, combing her fingers through your hair. “If it’s been this long and you still feel that way about him, you can’t let it go.” She tied your hair back in a ponytail, keeping it away from your face until you calmed down. Your cheeks were crimson, burning with heat as the sadness ran its course. Your eyes were swollen, your head aching, and you wished it could be that easy.

“After six years, Mel?” You didn’t mean to sound so condescending, but the tone slipped out without a second thought. “We’re totally different people now. I bet he doesn’t even think about me anymore.”

“You don’t know that, though.” She argued her point, squeezing your shoulders ever so slightly. “He could be sitting in his room, talking to his best friend like this. He might still be hurting, too, and maybe he’s scared to reach out because he thinks you forgot about him.” She let the thought hang in the air for a moment, not pressing any further until you responded. You blinked hard, wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands. The coolness of your skin felt nice against your face, bringing you back to earth for a moment. When the silence became too much for her, she spoke again. “You never know unless you try, Y/N. You can’t live the rest of your life wondering. Just reach out, say hi and ask how he’s doing. Even if he’s moved on, at least you’ll know for sure. Once that door is closed, you can move on too. Right now, you’ll be stuck thinking about him and wondering ‘what if’ forever.”

You didn’t want to tell her she was right, mostly because you were too afraid he would be moved on, in love with someone else and happier without you. You wanted it for him, because he deserved it, but you wanted to be the one that made him happy. The thought of someone else loving him made you sick, because you doubted that anyone could ever love him as much as you did. Actually, you doubted that anyone could love anyone as much as you loved Jake.

“I doubt he has the same number, anyway. I just have the one he had in high school.” You shook your head, finding yourself too hopeful already. You needed to shut it down before your heart broke even further.

“Try, Y/N.” Mel urged, unable to drop the topic. She wanted it for you, to see you happy and in love. She always wondered why romance never seemed to move you, and now she knew it’s always been because you were waiting for him. Instead of responding, you hit the rewind button on the player and pressed play again, already yearning to live in the memory of him singing it to you again. A sad smile crossed Mel’s lips, but she gave a curt nod, turning around and continuing to pack and move boxes of already sorted items.

You pulled your knees to your chest, resting your chin atop of them as you listened to the familiar melody. You wondered if maybe his number was the same, and if you reached out, he’d still have your contact saved in his phone. You wanted to know where he ended up, what he was doing and who he was doing it with. You wanted to know him, to hear his voice and have him say your name again. The need was pressing, and it grew harder to ignore the longer the song played.

Could he still feel the same? After this long, did he still think of you from time to time with hurt in his heart and regret in his mind? Was it possible that he was still hung up on you, or were you just an idiot who couldn’t comprehend letting go?

You had so many questions, the same ones that plagued you since the day you left. You didn’t know the answer, and you weren’t even sure if you wanted to.

However, Mel was right.

You would never know unless you tried, and for him, you would do anything. As much as it would kill you to hear how happy he was without you, it would still be better than never talking to him at all. You needed to know the man he grew into, even if it was for a fleeting moment in time. You wanted to know if his hair grew out, if he still played guitar, and if his laugh was still just as sweet as it was back then. You wanted to tell him you graduated, that you finally did it after so long spent talking about it.

You couldn’t waste the rest of your life hung up on a man who loved you when you were young. You couldn’t be eighty years old and still thinking of Jake Kiszka when you tried to sleep at night. More than that, you couldn’t open yourself up to love if you were still so in love with him.

“I’m going to grab something to eat.” Mel said, hovering in the doorway of your room. When you didn’t so much as look her way, she turned towards the stairs and walked out of sight.

You needed to reach out. You needed to try, just like she said. Even if the conversation sealed shut the door you always wished to open again, it would give you closure, and you might finally be able to move on. Right now, moving on was laughable, and it was something you never believed you could do.

Mel was right, and so right that it was impossible to ignore her.

Even if his number changed, or if you were blocked, you would finally know for sure. You took a large gulp of breath as you stood to your feet, Wild Horses still playing softly in the background as you stepped towards your bed. You grabbed your phone from the mattress, unlocking the screen and clicking on your contacts. You gulped down the ball of anxiety stuck in your throat as you selected the name you never thought you’d speak again. There was still a red heart beside his name, something you couldn’t bear to change. You opened a new text thread, the empty screen sending a shiver down your spine as you recounted the endless ‘I love you’s’ once held inside the chat.

Your finger hovered over the keypad, your mind blank as you thought of what to say. There were so many things you always wanted to confess to him, that you were sorry and you missed him, or that you were wrong and never should have left. You wanted to be angry that he let you leave, and to be happy for all the love he gave you that carried you through until that very moment. You wanted to say everything and anything, but it wasn’t right. You couldn’t break the radio silence after so long with something so powerful, but you never knew how to keep it simple when it came to Jake. His name alone caught you in a storm of emotion, and the picture of his face in your mind nearly brought you to your knees.

You began to type, quickly stopping yourself with a shake of your head. It wasn’t right. What were you supposed to start with? How could you rekindle conversation with the only man you’d ever loved, after so long of loving him silently?

You started again, letting out a sigh as the words seemed to come out wrong yet again. You felt like an idiot, but you still stood in place, staring at the screen. Somehow, no matter how stupid you felt, putting the phone down felt wrong. You needed to do it, but you just didn’t know how.

You typed and re-typed the message so many times that your eyes crossed and your head began to spin. Your heart was thudding against your chest so intensely that it began to hurt, and you hadn’t even hit send yet.

“Come on, coward. You can do it.” You huffed, furrowing your brows as you hyped yourself up. “Stop overthinking it.”

And you did; when you stopped thinking, it seemed all the more easy.

You - 4:53pm

Hey, Jake. It’s Y/N. I know it’s been a while, and I’m not sure if this is even your number anymore, but I’m back in Michigan again, for good I think. When I’m in Michigan it always reminds me of you. I hope you’re doing okay, and I hope that this isn’t too weird. It’s strange being home, and I guess I was just thinking of you and wanted you to know that after all this time, you’re still on my mind.

With little hope and a lot of courage, you attached a song from Spotify to the text. You hit send, watching the blue line at the top of the screen slowly begin to slide across, signifying it was much too late to change your mind. It was slower than usual, making you believe he truly may have changed his number, or blocked you at the very least. If he did, you couldn’t blame him, because you’d been tempted to do the same.

Before you could spiral too far, the small chirp let you know that the text was delivered, and the words underneath the bubble read as such. Your heart drummed even faster, and you expected a wave of regret to take over, but it never came. Instead, your mind was calm, a strange peacefulness washing over you at the sight of his name in your phone again. Soon after, the song delivered too, the link turning into a shortcut. The album cover showed in a small square, and next to it showed the name of the song and the artist underneath. On the very opposite side, a small little play circle appeared, letting him preview a snippet before he opened the app.

“Wild horses

Couldn’t drag me away

Wild, wild horses

We’ll ride them someday

Wild horses

couldn’t drag me away

Wild, wild horses

We’ll ride them someday.”

You listened to the song playing over your speakers, your cheeks flushed and your lips upturned into a small smile. You wondered if it was too much, or if he would think you were weird for sending him the song, but deep down you believed that even if he did, some semblance of the man you used to love so dearly continued to remain. Even after all this time, the song would still be important to him, and just the same as back then, even after all this time, not even wild horses could drag you away from him.

TAGLIST: @anythingforjtk @highway-tuna @klarxtr @hollyco @thetroublegetssoloud71 @ageofbajabule @dannys-dream @raceb14 @watchingover-hypegirl @starshine-gvf

[ashoss]

stephanie & bruce fic recs

for @peachie-wren13 :DD

Permutations & Hinterlands - cabezas_de_vaca

steph & bruce

7.5k words, 1 chapter

summary:

She and Bruce are complicated (not bad complicated, not wrong complicated, just complicated, because he isn’t her father and will never be her father and yet he sort of also is) but he cares. It gets lost sometimes, under the demands of Gotham, but it’s there.

And so, she just asks him. “Do you want to go to Colorado with me?”

Or: Bruce, Steph, and a road trip

* heed the tags !! angsty

dont wanna long post this so more under the cut :)

sweet child o’ mine - Nokomis

steph & bruce, steph & alfred

4,4k words, 1 chapter

Summary:

Steph said cheerfully, “Bruce, from now on, consider yourself in possession of one Steph-mom.”

“Absolutely not,” Bruce said.

Steph took a bite of her cake, undeterred.

A Softer Gotham - Hinn_Raven (series)

steph & bruce, time travel

12.2k words, 3 works

summary: One night makes all the difference. Especially a night when Stephanie Brown, in the wrong dimension, interferes in a mugging.

though your eyes will need some time to adjust - popsunner

steph & bruce

4.4k words, 1 chapter

summary:

“I think…” Stephanie takes a deep breath, “I think I’m bad.”

“I don’t.”

“So what, I’m just supposed to believe you?”

“I am Batman.”

Stephanie snorts, “Yeah, you are… but what if I’m still bad?”

“Then I forgive you.” _______

Or: Stephanie and Bruce, figuring it out

Tuck Me In - OberonBronze

bruce & his kids (big on jason, but it does have cute scene w the other ones esp steph)

14.1k words, 1 chapter

summary:

Bruce Wayne and his long-standing habit of tucking his kids into bed.

Galas Suck - dottie_dc (dottie_wan_kenobi)

steph & bruce

1.9k words, 1 chapter

summary:

When she doesn’t respond, he looks down to her face, finding her staring in the direction of the doors they came in through. “Something on your mind?”

He’s really asking, why did you come and get me? If it’s just nerves, she would’ve been better off with one of the others. No, it must be something else.

Steph blinks, turning her gaze upwards. Never one to back down, she meets his eyes long enough for him to see she’s not in any distress, at least. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbles. “Everything. Nothing.”

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

Written for the Gen Batfam Christmas Stocking 2019, for the prompt "Wayne Gala"

the early robin gets the worm - deargalileo

bruce & his kids

7k words, 1 chapter

summary:

bruce loves all of his children equally. its just when he has to wake them up, that there's an issue.

aka; the five times bruce tries to wake up his kids, and the one time that he doesn't.

DON’T YOU CRY, DRY YOUR EYES. - orpheusaki

steph & bruce

4.8k words, 1 chapter

summary:

After inhaling her food before Bruce's even halfway through his vanilla milkshake, Stephanie seems to have sobered up a little. She's looking less green, and more like she's trying to develop x-ray vision and look into Bruce's soul.

Or maybe she's still drunk, because she very suddenly and very bluntly tells him, "I used to wish you were my dad," drowning her chips into a little pot of ketchup.

Bruce pauses. He slowly drops the chicken nugget he was about to put in his mouth — since now is probably not the time to complain about how the nuggets are a little dry today.

(Bruce Wayne is not Stephanie Brown's father, not at all.)

*tbh anything by orpheusaki is gonna be an amazing read, ive loved all the fics ive read by them <333

Have I Told You About Minnie? - Hinn_Raven

steph & bruce, bruce & his kids

4.6k words, 1 chapter

summary:

After you’ve known Matches Malone long enough, you get used to him telling you about his kids. Not that his kids know about it.

too young to be taken seriously, too old to believe all this hypocrisy - Hinn_Raven

steph & jason & bruce

5.7k words, 1 chapter

summary:

When Crystal Brown goes into rehab, leaving Stephanie in the sole custody of her father, Steph decides to run away from home, and meets Jason Todd, who decides that she is the best little sister ever.

or:

"the dark knight is beaten up by children on the anniversary of his parents death... tragic"

theres not a lot of steph and bruce fics and it makes me sad :((

btw i have a google doc with a shitttttt ton of fics lol. its some recs ive been asked for so hope yall enjoy :)

[plentyoffandoms]

https://www.tumblr.com/plentyoffandoms/751377037239975936/hi-hope-you-are-well-are-your-requests-open?source=share

I'm good thanks.

That's awesome to hear.

Can I request for Lord Alfred Debling. Please and thank you.

He finds a wife who is just as obsessed about astrology as he is about nature, which she also received ridicule for. The marriage was arranged but they bond over they're interests. She travels with him since she can use the stars to navigate. They eventually settle at his estate once she gets pregnant. They have the cutest litter of children running around. And they're just the sweetest family. The kids names are even themed to their interests.

Our Family

Lord Debling x f/Reader

Main Masterlist ♡ Bridgerton Masterlist

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Gifs and photos do not belong to me. 1st gif @didanagy

Warnings. None

Requested by anonymous. I hope you like it, and such a cute idea

WC: 836

My wife and I were strolling in our garden, with our children running around. It was getting late in the evening, and it was the perfect time to look up into the night sky.

Our children were very excited as the night sky had no clouds and they could see the stars. They are also excited as the summer flowers are starting to bloom, and many bugs are starting to come out due to the warmer weather coming on.

My wife and oldest daughter, Ivy, were discussing their latest book they had read, and I was keeping an eye on the younger children, but their oldest brother, who is Ivy's twin, Berry was keeping them from wondering off.

When I first met my darling wife all those years ago, I was not happy. My parents and her parents got together and arranged our marriage.

Her and I are considered odd in our society as my love of nature and her love of astrology. Most people could not wrap their heads around it.

Our parents were concerned that my way of life at the time was no means for a lady. I was leaving after the wedding and her staying at our estate, but not her.

She joined me on my adventures, getting to know the real me, and I got to know her. I showed her the beauty in our world, and she showed me the beauty of our vast sky.

The first few days into my trip, I became concerned that we were getting lost, but she showed me how to navigate with the stars.

I truly became memorised by her, and I slowly fell in love with the woman my parents arranged for me to marry.

Once she became pregnant, I decided that it was time for us to settle at our estate and start to make a home worthy of our children.

Archer and Basil ran past me, laughing, bringing me out of my memories.

"Now boys, please watch where you are going." I said to them, not wanting to ruin their fun, but for then not to get hurt or hurt one of their siblings.

"Yes, father." They muttered before running off, playing some game of tag that is only between the two of them.

I helped my wife up the hill, as she was once again pregnant, but our sweet little Cordelia came rushing down the hill, wanting to help her mother up the hill.

Cordelia is the youngest at four years of age and is excited to be a big sister.

My wife sat down on the bench I had placed here not long after we came home.

"Now, you all know the rules. No fighting, no shoving, no yelling. We all get a turn." I didn't like to impose 6 many ruled on my children as our society does that already, but after the first time we did this, and the telescope got broken, their mother and I knew that some rules had to be put in place.

I stood next to the telescope as our children, from oldest to youngest, looked up into the night sky, completely in awe.

Ivy, Berry, Aurora, Archer, Basil, our other set of twins, Willow, Jupiter, Celeste, and Cordelia all took their turns, then rushed to their mother's side, asking her questions.

"Now, now, my darling children, it is your mother's turn." I said as they parter for me to get to her, to help stand her up from the bench.

"Take your time, dear. We have all night." She gave me a soft smile and leaned into look into the telescope. Our children ran off to play the scavenger hunt game I made for them before we came out here.

They had to find a certain bug or plant and cross it off their list. I even drew pictures next to what they need to be looking for.

Once, I knew the children were occupied, safe, and having fun, which I could tell by the squeals of laughter coming from around our garden, I wrapped my arms around her waist and placed my head on her shoulder.

"Oh, Alfred, it is just beautiful." She said as she straightened and leaned back into my arms.

"Not as beautiful as you, my beautiful wife."

"You shush now, husband. You are going to make me become vain with all your praises." Her and I laughed at that.

I turned her around in my arms so we were facing one another, I kissed her while placing my hand on her stomach, her and I was giggling at feeling our newest one kicking.

"Oh gross, they are kissing again." I heard Archer say before running off.

"How about when we are done here, and they are put to bed, you and I have some fun our bedroom."

"It's like you are trying to get me pregnant, even though I am already pregnant." She teased.

"We make lovely children." I told her.

"That we do Alfred, that we do."

Tag list: @madhatterbri

[ju-vondy]

A special invitation for Jason girlies who love to read...

I'm really thrilled to announce I finally got the A03 invitation and started uploading my fanfiction there! I want to invite you to read and leave your opinion please *shaking in nervousism language*

I couldn't help myself and uploaded 7 chapters already. I'm kinda afraid you guys may not like it, LOL, therefore I decided to put some thoughts about the protagonists here and if you do not identify with my way/pov of seeing them I strongly recommend that you don't read the fanfic because you will hate it.

Let's go?!

♏ JASON: I don't think he's THAT bad. I like to think that this "strong" personality of him is just a mask he puts on because he doesn't like/want to show people that, deep down... He's a vulnerable human being.

You know those Pitbull dogs? They're very gentle breed, but because of their size people think they're aggressive! I believe Jason is exactly like that: from afar, it seems like he's going to bite you... But if you just get close tender and gentle and pet his belly, he'll roll over asking for more love. (lmao)

I also like to think that Jason wasn't always so tough like this. In my head, at some point in his life... He was the kid who was bullied — not the one who bullied. So that's why he's like this today, a bit scatterbrained and cruel.

(Bullying victim 🤝🏻 Vowing to do worse to others when grown up)

I believe that CEO Jason is totally different from Family-Son-Brother Jason. (Yes, I think he has a younger brother*¹) We all act differently when we're at work VS with friends VS family, so why not, right?

It'll be so beautiful to see Candy breaking down all the barriers he built around his inner child MUHAHAHAHA this is so cliché, but I love it!

Headcanons facts I keep in my mind for him:

He was bullied throughout his entire pre-adolescence for being skinny, and also for the white streaks of hair on the sides of his head;

The tattoo on his arm is to cover a scar.

He started taking boxing lessons at 17 because he was tired of getting beaten up by classmates who teased him for being skinny.

He knows how to play the piano and appreciates Operas.

He speaks 4 languages.

He holds a degree in finance, with a specialization in public relations, and has an MBA in administration.

He enjoys a bit of BDSM, yes.

¹* the younger brother is the only person who makes Jason be, like, GOOD. Jason acts totally different when he's around his brother... As if he wants to set an example, you know? Now let's move on to...

♓ CANDY : A tender young woman who, after getting into trouble with Ioan, doesn't want anything to do with mixing work and romance anymore. She doesn't want anything to do with spoiled boys anymore and vowed to put them in their place if she ever came across one again. Sometimes she misses having someone to fulfill her desires, but being a one-night stand for someone is out of the question for her.

She hates casual encounters and wants to find someone for a true, deep and lasting connection. She's firm in her principles, but sometimes she doubts what to do. She constantly follows her heart instead of reason, and she knows she has to stop this stupid habit if she doesn't want to get hurt again.

She's kind, charismatic, and has a big sense of humor. She doesn't back down from Jason's provocations and responds to him in "style"! She's convicted

In the game, she's Ysaline, but for this fanfic, I'll use my OC, Candy who is a redhead and white just because yes ;-;

Headcanons about her:

When she was a child, she hated her name and insisted that everyone must call her "Mandy"

She knows how to speak 4 languages, including sign language.

She likes to sing.

She loves to draw.

Her mom has Latin origins.

She went to college when she was only eighteen years old.

She graduated in advertising, completed a postgraduate degree in information management, and later pursued a specialization in crisis management. She has an MBA in digital marketing. The girl LOVES to study and learn new thing lol (Latin families are kind of strict with that)

She is afraid of heights.

Now... Let's go to the context I imagined for the story. That is: some headcanon facts that I wanted to add to their past to make everything make more sense.

• Jason and Candy studied together, but they don't remember. (fact which will be explored around by the Chapter 10+-)

—> Jason used to tease Candy during class: he would take her pencil case and run away... Tie her shoelaces to the chair leg without her noticing... Tangle her hair, etc. (thinking they had a cat-and-mouse dynamic since childhood makes the whole thing funnier, hahaha)

• Their families were close when they were kids, but a tragedy happened and they lost contact.

—> Jason's father and Candy's father were on a small business trip when their car was brutally hit by a truck. Jason was with them, got seriously injured, and his forearm got a terrible scar (hence his tattoo).

—> Candy's father died instantly. Jason's father is in a coma till nowadays.

—> After the accident, Candy's mother (named Edith Beaumont, not Zahra Dolga) moved with her daughters back to their home country, getting closer to her parents again. Only years later did she return to Amoris, but she never bothered to look for the Mendals to reconnect.

• Everything Jason built was thinking of his father. How satisfied he would be when he woke up from the coma and found out that Jason had been successful as he had always planned... (fact will be explored by the Chapter 20+-)

—> After his father fell into a coma, Jason's uncle named Viktor - the vice-president in the time - took over the company leadership, and Jason had been groomed since childhood to work there. Eventually, Viktor's hunger for power got to his head, and he refused to integrate Jason into the board (after he graduated from college) using the excuse of his poor behavior. From then on, Jason was like, "Oh, so they think I'm the villain? Then I'll be the villain! I don't need this selfish family for anything SCREW THEM UP" and left his father's company only to invest in his own dream.

⚠️🚨SMUT WARNING 🚨⚠️

This fanfiction starts with fire already (but if it slow down after that). So, if you are the kind that don't like smut scenes... Well, good luck reading it. I tried to do something easy so everyone with all tastes could read but... Softness is not something I expect from JasonXCandy. So if you do not have experience with sex scenes maybe you'll find it... weird?

I don't know if you'll get it: I had to start right away with the tension between them finally blowing up. After all, isn't that what we want to see? All hell breaking loose? I'm a sassy reader/player. Of course I want CHAOS. There was no other way: whenever I thought about their story, I got bored having to tell everything from the beginning so my mind just said, '"Nah, start narrating 6 months after the start of the game (MCL) and it's all good. Start telling their story by the point they finally can't help and spend a night together*silence* *considering* But what if people don't lik- *sigh* YOU HAVE TO START THE STORY TELLING HOW THEY WOULD IGNITE TOGETHER, JULIANAAAA'"

⚠️🚨 Why did I decided to write? 🚨⚠️ I just finished playing ep. 3 and my mind started wondering that Beemoov would mess things up. I asked myself how I'd like things to happen between my candy and Jason. I didn't get a answer right away, but then the voice of my imagination whispered "So.... WHAT IF there's this crazy night they spend together, but therefore everything starts over slowly because, guess what? Jason doesn't remember a single thing."

And then I went like "YESSS babe give me that cliche, I'm into it!" and decided to create my own narrative following that ideia of "the night which would change everything about them". Based on that premise, I had to juggle a hundred things to make them able to spend time together after that and... Well, I hope you like the plot my crazy mind came up with!

🚨⚠️ Will there be cliches? 🚨⚠️

Sorry but it will.

🚨⚠️How their dynamic is going to happen? 🚨⚠️

A big blow, and then a slow-burn filled with a lot of tension though. * LAUGHS * And finally FIRE again.

The romance plot it is indeed enemies to lovers but I don't want to be that "I can't date Jason because OMG what my boss will think?" thing (._.) Well, Candy might have her insecurities but she's an adult, it is kind of dumb wasting her mind thinking like that. So don't expect you'll find here scenes like "He is our rival, it's sooo wrooong dAtInG HiM, Oooh what others will think? *~Cries in drama language~*"

It makes more sense if she is tempted/divided/doubtful because Jason is a Don Juan and she doesn't want to break her heart again. My Candy in particular doesn't like the thing of being one-night-stand. And thanks to Devon and Roy she thinks Jason is a bad bad and spoiled guy, so that's the reason she despises him and thinks she should stay away from him because he'll do no good to her............................. But in the same time: Jason *knows* how to do so well... And he's pretty. But she swore to reduce him to dust.... Hate was everything she felt since the beginning. She can't date someone she despises so much, can she? That's it: She hates him because of his despicable personality, it has nothing to do about Jason's being the "rival" from Devenementiel.

Now that you've made it this far and didn't give up on me yet, I bet you have everything you need to read this mesmerizing story if you want to. I'm loving writing about these two! The first chapter begins precisely at the event mentioned in the synopsis: they'll be at a masked ball, and from there, everything will unfold! Are you ready?

Click in the link below and enjoy!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56514097

[gods-favorite-autistic]

nonbinary fig and transfem bigender gorgug are things that can be so real. what other gender hcs would you like to speak of?

Long hc post so this will be in bullet point form!!

(minor fhjy spoilers!!)

Enby Fig and bigender Gorgug 10/10 no notes

Ayda researches nonbinary people so hard once Fig comes out to her and sends Fig so many articles

Fig reads them all and takes notes <3

Transfem Adaine is so tragic with Aelwyn and her parents and adgeasresd

Aelwyn paid for Adaines estrogen using their parents money but never told her

Adaine knits all of the bad kids their pride flag

Pangender Cass. That’s it that’s the headcanon

Riz Gukgak transmasc detective

His mom would absolutely buy his T if he asked but knows how expensive it so he refuses

He uses a lot of home remedies (a lot of *checks google* legumes in the Gukgak household)

The second Riz comes out to Fabian he insists on paying for Riz’s T

Does NOT wear his binder correctly

Called Fabian in literal tears when he noticed he was starting to look like his dad

Ok enough sad hc’s. For now.

TRANS JAWBONE TRANS JAWBONE TRANS JAWBONE

T R A N S R A G H T R A N S R A G H

Mary Ann starts calling Gorgug her partner and Adaine immediately starts working on a spell to make a cowboy hat appear on Gorgugs head every time she says it

Bigender. Bisexual. Biclass. 🎵Bye bye by-

I think it’d be a little bit funny if Kristen was the only cis one but she/they demi girl Kristen is just too strong

For pride month Kristen convinces Adaine Fig and Ragh to get up at 12:01 am June 1st to spray paint Mordred Manor the trans flag

They also. Set fire to Bobby Dawns car

Fig makes it their mission to look as androgynous as possible but not in a ‘no gender’

In a ‘double d tits and a 5 inch bulge’ type way

They appear at the end of Garthy O’Briens bed one night to ask for tips like the cryptid they are

Kristen comes out in virtually the same way she did the first time just way more drunk

They whisper it to Adaine and Adaine is just like “Kristen last week you googled ‘how to tell if demigirl’ directly in front of me and then told me what you were googling when I asked”

Kristen’s just like oh. Then they throw up

For transfem Fabian Mazey (also transfem because her) figures out she’s trans before Fabian does but doesn’t try to like push her out of the closet because she knows that won’t help

She does however try to like nudge her in that direction by like sending her transfem memes and getting her to try on Mazeys dresses (read a fic where Fabian tried on Mazeys dress and I loved it so much) and stuff like that

Transmasc Fabian comes out to Riz when Riz comes out to him

Kristin assigns themself binder boy (Ragh Fabian and Riz) duty

Also known as showing up in each boys room 8 hours after she finds out they had a binder on and beating them with a pillow until they take it off

Usually Riz

Kristen shows up in his doorway he’s immediately sprinting out the fire escape as fast as he can

Jawbone has top surgery scars on his untransformed body but you can’t see them on his usual half and half body (they are still there)

Fig keeps casting dream to show up in Bobby Dawns dreams with a nonbinary flag

[spade-riddles]

Spade, I'm not trying to be a troll here, I swear. But you said recently how disgusted you would be to see Taylor playing aunt to a Kushner child. But don't you think this whole thing is going to end with Taylor pretending to be stepmom to two Kushner kids? It seems like the only logical outcome.

You said you're following Taylor because you think she's planning something big. But what if she's not? To me, songs like Dear Reader suggest the opposite. That Taylor is choosing her family and her happiness above playing the role people want from her. "Find another guiding light." I think that's addressed to us as much as the Hetlors, and I think the same about the themes of TTPD. Everyone in the fandom is going to have to swallow something they don't like, when it all shakes out. At first that seems to be Matty Healy, then it'll be Karlie (for the Gaylors and the Hetlors) and then for us, it'll be the Kushner association. I think she's been warning all of us she's not our hero, for a long time. But we only hear what we want to hear.

The 🎃 messages end the same way as Fresh Out The Slammer - with Taylor going home to the woman she loves. Making sacrifices for the woman she loves. It's not the story of a grand fight on behalf of something bigger. It's one scared woman fighting for the right to be human and live in peace with her family. People help her in the kitchen, she's not helping them. She walks the plank, but she does it to protect her lover. Not anyone else.

♠️ used to talk about a revolution - but that was years ago, and frankly I just think Taylor's priorities have changed. None of the riddles we've received in recent years seem to be about anything other than the freedom to be with Karlie. For me, I'm okay with that. I'm not saying you have to be too. I guess I'm just wondering how you would feel if a stepmom situation was how this all ended? Would it taint everything for you, or do you think you could still be happy for Taylor on some level, and proud of everything you did here?

Hi Anon, thank you for the thought out ask.

For clarity, I did not use the word 'disgusted'. I also do not believe those are Karlie's kids we see, so I do not believe Taylor will play the auntie or stepmom to 'Kushner' kids. Do we forget how many 'Dad' references Taylor has made? Or how Taylor wore pink, the night Jerk announced the birth of a boy.

I lean toward the two boys we see likely being Jerk's kids with Mikey. See this post for why I feel this way. My guess is that Karlie and Taylor will just keep their children very private, and we will not learn about them for years. In the meantime, Karlie stops posting about the two boys. I am not the only person who thinks they have a daughter.

I am not following Taylor because I think she is doing something big. I am following her because she is a brilliant musician, who I believe to also be a good human. Separately, I also think she is going to do something big/important. I was under the impression around here that people think she is going to burn it all down ... hence the imagery of the Lover house on tour. I would have to re-read the 🎃 messages again to see if that sways me. Regardless, if she sneezes it is big news. So if she does choose to come out, it will be huge.

I do agree that she is doing whatever she can to be with Karlie publicly and privately, and anyone caught in the cross-fire be damned. I have listened to Dear Reader as directed at myself/us, of course, and I believe it has merit. But I also know that I have a lot of emojis who visit this blog, seemingly wanting to keep us on board.

FWIW, if she never comes out that is completely fine. I have never been here chasing that goal. Do we get excited when we see her get loud? Yes. But it is her life to live as she chooses. The recent emoji anons say that she is ready to open the door, and she is not afraid.

If she played the stepmom role to Karlie's kids that the public would think are Kushners ... I would be gone. That would mean a lifetime contract with the Kushners and by association through Jared and Ivanka, the Trumps. It would mean that Ivanka and Jared are Taylor's children's aunt and uncle. How can anyone wrap their head around that idea? Why would a super powerful billionaire woman sign up for that? If she is coming out, why do so under that big of a lie? And, why put that kind of stain on your children? Why would we think she would sign up for that? Remember Karlie showed a turkey baster, and Taylor talked about her buns in the oven. Karlie did not have Jerk's kids. So why would they allow the Kushners to latch onto them for life?

If that is the narrative though, I would regret that I ever spent my time on here, other than for the education I have received over the years about Hollywood PR, and the friendships I have made. I would know I played a small part in her story though, as we have brought in many new Kaylors to support her. But, Taylor raising perceived 'Kushners' would be too much for me.

I would ask people to consider this ... no one on Tumblr calls out the Kushners for their criminality more than I do. If Taylor is pals with him, as some people around here believe, why did she play Paper Rings, seemingly at my request? Also, why did she drag him in I Bet You Think About Me, while also mocking Mikey? Maybe we share similar views of them?

[klmp11s]

Hey, it’s the anon who asked for the Idia and cater (separate) fan fics.

I was wondering if I could request a rook and Idia (also Neige if your okay writing him) x reader who is Vils younger brother but is only know as that bc he’s very overlooked and chooses to not be big on the acting or modeling scene (also just a shy guy in general) if this request is too complicated then you could totally ignore it. Have a nice day/morning/evening/night.

Haha I'm sorry that I answered your request after so long 🥲🥲 I found it very interesting and I decided to post it for my birthday lol (I just love requests related to Pomefiore too much) (forgive me, I’m not at all sure that I’ll write Neige correctly, that’s why he’s not here 🙏) (English is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes)

Summary: Twst boys, with m!reader who is Vil's younger brother + not a fan of attention at all Characters: Rook Hunt, Idia Shroud Warning: shy🤏 male!reader, mention of Vil, hcs, ooc(?), Rook's usual behavior, HINTS on relationships

Rook Hunt

LMAO you found out about him much later than he did about you I SWEAR TO YOU

Like, you’re Vil Schoenheit’s younger brother, do you seriously think that this guy doesn’t know about your life and its det Do you have a private account on any social network? Oh yes, he's there🤗 by the way: you look good. Do you attend any meetings with your brother? Have you already seen your photos from this event? He can show.

Your character and shyness don’t bother this guy at all, you know? If you've ever had any kind of stuff done to you, I'm more than sure that Rook already has one in his room.

He also 100% WANTED and ALREADY MET YOU. It literally happens: you blink, and he’s already talking to you as if you’ve been friends for the last ten years.

He definitely paid attention to your appearance and taste in style, but if you told him that you didn't really need that kind of attention, he would just look at you like: 😊😁

He will almost interrogate you, why don’t you want to show your beauty to the world? The Schoenheit family definitely has the craziest genes, since they can create such a miracle (you and your brother literally), so why do you choose not to show up on screens and social media?

Over time, the more time you spend with him, the more you get used to the fact that a pair of green eyes literally absorbs your silhouette with every fiber of his soul. You know, the “blue eye look” effect? Now forget it, the way this man looks at you, even comparing with this effect will not be enough.

IF Vil ever showed you a photo of Rook from freshman year, I swear, when you met him, you might not even recognize him from the very beginning. Like, yes, effort really changes a person to “before” and “after”, of course, if you liked Rook from the very beginning, then I think this will not be a problem for you.

He can literally find you at an important premiere in a millisecond, I'm not kidding. It doesn't matter if you give a few words to the interviewers or just get into range of the cameras. He sees and looks at you. (After admiring your brother, ok? He loves you, you know it, it's just.. it's VIL)

He will like any posts about you. Seriously. Something like: “the mysterious, taciturn youngest son of the Schoenheits showed up at the premiere of a film with the participation of his older brother..”, it doesn't matter, he's already read it and saved it.

If you say something about how you are tired of all this farce and would like to leave this place for a long time, give him a couple of minutes and he will take you to a secluded place from the camera flashes for years.

You are compared to your brother. Unfortunately, this is the way to consider siblings, but believe me, this man can shut his mouth about this topic if you ask him. He definitely knows that words like “you are so different/you are completely different from his brother/etc” are not interesting to you and it is absolutely not necessary to rub your nose into it.

I am SURE that he is the person who, at your request, will not allow any paparazzi to photograph you. Fight me, I'm ready, but you can't change my mind. SERIOUSLY I really think that his magnificently unearthly eyes could bring slight anxiety and discomfort if he literally stares at someone with a camera like this: 👁️👁️. If it were the paparazzi, I would have already been clicking my heels while running away from the scene.

I guess…protective type? If he knows that you don’t like this at all, then obviously he’s unlikely to allow this to happen, you know? The last thing he wants is for his loved one to feel uncomfortable because of other people.

Honestly, he is one of the few people who sees you not as “Vil’s younger brother”, but as a separate and truly interesting person. I really think that you might be able to attract his attention by acting out of the ordinary, which contrasts with how other people see your older brother, you know?

This man is able to see beauty everywhere where other people are unlikely to be able to. Believe me, in such a scenario, he could shamelessly fall in love with a completely new person for himself and the desire to “unravel” and find out more about the truth would make both of you an extraordinary and frightening(affectionately) couple.

Man 10/10 believe me, I don’t believe people who say they don’t love him 🙄

Idia Shroud

Oh I seriously think he found out about you by accident lol We have two options for events:

You met at some event while both were trying not to get caught on camera

He found out about you from some random article like “VIL’S YOUNGER BROTHER APPEARS AT TODAY’S SHOW…” And he literally sat there with this face like 😦 because he really didn’t know about you.

At first he thought you were a normie, until he found out why you acted this way So you're not a fan of public attention? Hmm, okay, maybe you're not so bad.

But I'm pretty sure certain things have to happen for you two to start talking. Like, he thinks that he doesn’t really need it, and communicating with other people is not his strong point. Here the winner will be the one whose shyness (in some respects) turns out to be less.

Once you have been able to establish contact with him, he is absolutely sure that you are just a gift from heaven. Like, you really might remind him of himself.There are certain circumstances that force both of you to be in the media, which is not very pleasant for both of you. He could listen to you about what you would choose to do and listen, it will be very bad if you are also interested in the same things as him. Okay, now only a freight train can stop him, this will take a long time, you know?

He more than understands your reluctance to share your personal life on social networks and other media. He's literally the same. But I also think that if he comes across any content with you (article/photos/interview/post) he will save it. Like, YES, THIS IS HIS PERSON and he is trying to support you in minimal ways on the Internet. Seriously, any staff with you already ends up with him. You are his close person and he is really trying to support you in terms of your dislike for the media

He’s really ready to listen to you if they started labeling you as “younger brother ***” and stuff like that again. To be different or not to live up to other people's expectations is unpleasant, but no one has ever died from this, right? I think he is bad with words, so this begins the tactic of distracting you from painful thoughts about any reason.

You had definitely been spotted together and had even come across a few articles on the topic, but neither you nor he had decided to interact with it in any way. Why confirm or deny your personal life?

YOU OFTEN SHOW IN EACH OTHER'S PRIVATE ACCOUNTS. Seriously, posts with and without you alternate if they are posted. Stories practically consist of your shared leisure time with each other. No extra cameras, no extra people, right? This is your appearance in the media, which you can control, much better than going to some important premieres or dinner parties.

Remember what I said about Rook not taking his eyes off you on purpose? So, this guy doesn't take his eyes off you COMPLETELY BY ACCIDENT. You are his focal point, seriously. He just looks at you and in one second he switches off and thinks about completely different things, still boring a hole into you with his gaze. Yes, you catch his eye and he doesn’t know what to do about it, really, you shouldn’t snap your fingers in front of his face, he’ll die of embarrassment. Just.. yeah, maybe the rumors about the captivating beauty of the Schoenheit family are not rumors, okay? Can you blame him?

True, I also give him 10/10 because he really tries and is also completely calm about your secretive behavior.

The characters do not belong to me, they belong to their rightful owners, please do not edit, translate, repost my works on other platforms, also without my permission and @

[stephofromcabin12]

🤫

Ahem:

Dionysus hid in his own home during that time between HOO and TOA 5 like the dad in arrested development until Zeus spotted him out and about and sent him back.

Hera has a swear jar on Olympus. It’s most frequently brought out during game nights.

Hermes has the loudest, most obnoxious ring tones. Several because he has multiple phones.

Ares is directly responsible for reddit’s existence. He’s not aware of this. He’s also banned from 9897996 subreddits. He’s started double that amount.

Apollo’s main strategy of getting out of conversations with people is to pretend to text and go “uuuhhhhmm” *taptaptaptaptaptap* “weeeellll, hmmm, uuhhhhhhhh” *taptaptaptaptap* until they get angry and give up trying to talk to him.

You’re most likely to run into Hermes, Apollo and Artemis at a gym (Artemis is just there looking for potential hunters)

You might assume Ares would be there but he’s not. He’s casually dropping into arenas and hotels that athletes stay at while playing for tournaments. And sports bars. So many sports bars.

He used to go to the olympic village but he got too distracted by the games to even bother picking up potential mortal partners.

Apollo had a plant phase (“nymphs dig plants, right?”) didn’t last long.

Artemis attracts cats and does not understand why, considering she’s hanging out with wolves all the time.

Hecate likes to send her unclaimed kids those tarot “this was meant to find you” readings everywhere with specific hints that she’s connected to them, to see if they figure it out. She also will only communicate through scrying and magic rather than IM’s, and gets very offended when her children don’t pick up on it at all. Her version of “cause you’re always on that damn phone” is “You never use your intuition!!”

Hypnos has shown up in his kids’ dreams multiple times, in various forms. Hey, gotta take advantage of unseen ways of checking in on ‘em right. He’ll visit other’s children if he’s asked nicely and you catch him in the right mood. More gods have asked him to do this than they’d care to admit.

Dionysus can identify the year and grape of a wine just by hearing it poured.

Aphrodite is unapologetically on all dating apps, and is unafraid to message any of her kids she sees, as well as demigods in general, just to say hi. She’ll sometimes say something ominous as if she’s seen their interests and is making ~plans~ for their future in love. She knows they’re mortified, that’s why she does it.

I see trash canon Ares and raise you: Coach dad Ares. Your classic coach dad. He’s arguing with their actual football coaches, he’s grilling after a victory, he’s putting kids in headlocks and ruffling their hair. His leather jacket may or not crinkle due to the Werther’s originals he carries around. He does the reach around snack hand on the solstices during the presentations.

At those solstice meetings every year, the gods have a nymph secretary to whisper their kids’ names in their ear in case they forget.

Ares has had the same dog for 4000 years. Its unclear if its really the same dog he’s kept around or if he simply gets the same kind of dog every-time the last one dies and names it the same name. It’s called Thyella or “Ty” for short.

This is just like— headcanon but I like the idea of the gods not only being distant and emotionally unavailable bc they’re bad parents but also bc they’re just: extremely confused by humans. Especially modern humans. They can’t keep up. They’re perplexed at the speed at which their demigod kids pick up, and leave behind, things, phrases and trends. And they hate not knowing things, and even worse, not being considered cool by their kids (where’s the honor in that?). So they feign disinterest but the easiest way to piss them off is to make something up and go “oh you don’t know about that? Mom/Dad that’s ancient news!” When they ask what you’re talking about.

Similarly my favorite headcanon for them is that they’re deities, as in, they’re not human. They’re unquantifiable. They’re at times almost creature like? Like, they’re confusing and everchanging and Other. There’s something distinctly Not Human about them, even when they’re trying to come across as one. A mortal might find it alluring, a demigod will probably find it slightly disturbing, especially when they occasionally catch a glimpse of it in themselves.

Demigods, because of this, also come across as almost not human to others at times. There’s something off about them. Its not the ADHD, it’s not the way they never use technology. Its the way they nod sagely in class when discussing ancient myths, like they’ve met the gods themselves or quietly add “psh, yeah they wish” under their breath while watching a documentary.

Its in the way their eyes look purple if the sun hits them just right, before you blink and they go back to their usual blue.

Their reflexes that, despite being so clumsy, are freakishly good under pressure. The sheer strength they have when you know they’ve never set foot in a gym.

Its the way you remember that one time in the second grade when your buddy took a baseball to the face and still to this day you could’ve sworn there was the tiniest swirling of something shimmery reflecting in the blood dripping down over their fingers; microscopic golden specks reflecting in the fluorescent lights on the way to the nurse’s office. You never mentioned it at the time, much too caught up in the drama and excuse to leave P.E early. But you still look at them now, years later, stretching out in the sun like a plant; trying to absorb as much light as possible, scars that they never mention and never acknowledge crossing their abdomen and arms, and you wonder what that’s all about.

In the case of adults, mortals don’t necessarily know that they’re speaking to a god, but there’s something about them that just— feels off. Not bad, not always. Just something in the way they know things that doesn’t make sense. How they seem to appear out of nowhere, appearance always perfect without them even trying. They don’t sweat. They don’t blush. They never run out of things to say. They never lose their way. People seem to just bend around them, like the time the restaurant they took you to was closed early and after a short conversation, the chef reappeared to open the kitchen just for you. Or the time they scored tickets to that sold out concert, or wrestling match. It’s so odd looking back on that fling all those years ago and realising that you dont think they ever showered. Or shaved. Not that it showed on them but that’s still odd right? Or the time they chatted with someone on the phone in a language you didn’t recognize.

“What was that language?” An innocent question, this was before you thought to be suspicious of these things.

“Greek.” They answer, not meeting your eyes.

“I didn’t know your family is from Greece,” you reply, trying to think if they ever mentioned it.

“Oh, we go way back,” they say, changing the subject before you think to ask more questions.

[piratekane]

Kate pauses, the coffee pot titled over her to-go mug as the freshly-brewed dark roast starts to fill it. “Another undercover assignment? For both of us?” Lucy carefully takes the pot from Kate, leveling it off before all 8 ounces end up on the counter. “Cool, right? A joint undercover operation. Thelma and Lousie, teaming up to take on the bad guys.”

i do, you do, we do - the imagined opening and closing scenes of NCIS: Hawai'i season 3, episode 4 (aka The Newlyweds episode).