#i blame my step dad for spending my teen years watching the show a lot

[hawkfurze]

I love seeing Peter Lukas fan art and comparing it to my fan art of him only cause everyone makes Peter look so etherial and mysterious and spooky and cool and meanwhile my drawings look like any random guy that could show up on Deadliest Catch and put them in a horror setting.

[cecesunshine]

Hi!

Could you please write 7 with Axel

Thank youuu ^^

Hi, here it is! I decided to take an sad turn to the story because I didn't know how to make this fluff lmao. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

MASTERLIST

UNFAIR | AXEL

Summary → Axel and Scholar discover that people can be unfair to each other, even when they both love each other.

Pairing → Axel x Scholar

Warnings → Allusion to cheating but no actual cheating + doesn’t have a happy ending

Word Count → 1495

Prompts used → 7. You never had a problem with it before.

A/N → English is not my first language, so I’m sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn’t make sense!

No matter how long Axel and Scholar had been together, there was something that was always in the back of the couple’s mind. Distance. They had been together for nearly a year now but every time they were away from each other due to Axel’s schedule. He was always at the studio, touring or busy with something else, which affected his time with his significant other.

Scholar stared at their laptop’s clock, looking at the hour. 2 am. He was going to miss their weekly video call. They sighed, running their hands through their hair. The call was scheduled for 1 am. He promised that he was going to show up. They hadn’t really spoken to each other since the beginning of the winter break.

Feeling sleepy, Scholar closed their laptop and left it at the desk.

The only thing that was going to comfort them tonight was their bed.

The next days were filled with Scholar packing their things, ready to go back to Arlington after the winter break. Somehow their room didn’t seem like it was theirs anymore, which gave Scholar more motivation to pack their things. Besides all the pressure, Arlington felt more like a home than their childhood house.

Carrying their bags downstairs so they would be all set for tomorrow, Scholar saw their father sitting on the couch with a worried look on his face. He was watching some type of gossip program, which was odd.

“Since when do you like this type of show?” Scholar said, sitting next to their father.

“Jesus kiddo, don’t scare your old man like that.” He replied, putting his hand over his chest. “I was switching channels but saw this.” He pointed at the tv, which was playing a video of Axel on a loop. “Isn’t this your...uh...boyfriend?”

The video was of Axel with his hand over a girl’s shoulder. The girl in question being Gianna Portinari, a famous Italian model. According to the show’s host, the video was taken by a fan of the show who was on vacation in Italy and saw the “couple” walking through the streets of Milan in the early morning.

Scholar quickly connected the dots. There was a six-hour difference between their city and Italy. 2 am where they lived meant 7 am in Italy. Axel ditched them so he could hang out with a girl.

Scholar ran to their room, grabbed their phone and hit call. Nothing. They called seventeen times until they were finally tired of calling. It was going straight to voicemail.

The teen felt like throwing their phone across the room, but they knew it wasn’t worth it. They would also not have money to replace it.

The day they were desperately waiting for finally arrived. It was time to go back to Arlington. The flight had gone well, as Scholar slept during the entire trip. As they landed, anxiety started to grow on them, they would have to face their boyfriend and probably the end of their relationship.

At the airport, Scholar got in a taxi that would drive them to Arlington. Car drives aren’t as relaxing when your mind can’t stop creating scenarios of how your relationship will end.

After paying the driver and taking their bags from the taxi, Scholar found themselves in front of Arlington Academy, ready to start another semester. They spotted Claire and Raquel talking near the dorms and walked to them.

“Scholar! Nice to see you again! How was the break? Did you and your dad have fun?” Raquel said warming her friend into a tight hug.

“Yeah, we had some fun. The break was normal I guess, I had time to recharge batteries.” Scholar replied trying not to sound sad.

“We saw the thing about Axel.” Claire announced. “And we’re here for you if you need us.”

“Thanks girls.” Scholar thanked their friend, wanting to end the conversation there.

The cold wind of January made Scholar hold on tight to their coat. They said goodbye to their friends and walked to their room.

The room seemed empty, as they weren’t there for a month. Scholar opened their bags, ready to unpack their clothes and put things where they belonged.

As they were going to start to put their jackets in the clothes hangers in the wardrobe, someone knocked at the door.

Opening the door, Scholar was greeted by their boyfriend, who was holding a rose bouquet.

“Hi.” Axel said, ready to enter the room.

“No.” Scholar closed the door on his face, not wanting to deal with that in the moment.

“Oh come on! Don’t be like that, corazón!” He yelled from outside, knocking at the door again.

Scholar rolled their eyes. They knew how their boyfriend was and knew that they weren’t going to give up until they had want they wanted. Scholar opened the door again and motioned for him to come in.

“First of all, thank you for letting me in.” He said, earning a bored look from his lover. “And second, I bought you this.” He gave Scholar the bouquet, not receiving the energy he was expecting. “You look nice.”

“You’re not getting out of this with flowers and compliments, Axel.” Scholar said putting the bouquet in the desk.

“What did I do now?” Axel said, massaging his temple with his fingers. “It’s about me and Gia, right?”

“Gia? God, you even have a nickname for her.”

“Scholar, baby, Gia and I are just friends.” Axel walked to his partner, who stepped back. “And why are you acting like this all of a sudden?”

“Why? Because I’m the one dating you! I shouldn’t have to compete with your supermodel flings!” Scholar screamed, grabbing their phone and searching for photos of Axel with other people. “Look! If I search Axel the suggestions are either your songs or you with other girls and guys! Axel and Gianna Portinari, Axel and Taylor Covington, Axel and Rowan Harvey, Axel and Peyton Easterling...do you want me to go on?”

“I get it, I get it, I go out with a lot of celebrities, so what? I’m not even friends with them! It’s called a publicity stunt!” Axel yelled back. “You never had a problem with it before.”

“I didn’t, but now I have! You are always seen with someone new acting all lovey dovey and…” Scholar felt their eyes get watery. “and I get jealous. You ditched our last video-call.”

“Because I was busy! I have a career, Scholar! I’m sorry can’t dedicate all of my time to you!”

“Busy walking down the streets of Milan with a supermodel? Give me a break!” Tears fell down Scholar’s cheeks, exposing their vulnerability to their significant other.

“Scholar, come on. You know that I love you. And what does it matter if I spend time with other people? I don’t kiss them, I don’t even know their names sometimes! I’m a performer, I perform to the paparazzi.” Axel himself was starting to cry.

“It’s just hard. You’re never here. I’m competing for your attention with other people all the time and I keep losing. It’s unfair.” They confessed.

“Unfair? Scholar, I always come back to you.” Axel put his hands over Scholar’s shoulders. “You don’t need to compete with anyone, I’m yours. I’ve always been, since day one.”

“You’re mine when it’s convenient to you. You’re mine when you have the time.” Scholar pushed him away gently. “It’s tiring. I can’t keep pretending that you having dates with other people doesn’t affect me, even if are just publicity stunts.”

“I’m sorry. I’m going to stop, I promise.” The words escaped Axel’s mouth almost instantly. Even himself knew he was lying. He had no control over his public relationships.

“Don’t lie to me, please don’t lie to me.” Scholar whispered, their heart beating faster and faster every minute. “I think you should leave.”

“Corazón.” Axel tried to reach for his lover, who couldn’t even look him in the eyes.

“Leave. Just leave, Axel.” Scholar muttered, not wanting to deal with him or the situation.

Axel sighed, walking towards the door. As the door closed behind him, he knew that he had lost them. He wanted to scream at them, for not understanding his side but deep down he knew Scholar was right. Axel should have thought about they felt. That didn’t matter anymore, he had already lost Scholar. He had nothing to lose now.

Scholar fell to the ground as they realized what just had happened. They wanted to blame Axel for being selfish and prioritizing his career over his lover, but if they were in his place, they would do the same. He had much to lose.

Both of them could say that they were unfair to each other, but at the end of the day, we all make sacrifices, either for our careers or for our feelings and mental health. Unfairness is part of the world, neither Axel nor Scholar could run away from it.

[whoracefitz]

Alrighty, I haven’t posted my writing in a while. But, here we go. (It’ll be a while before I post this to ao3 so..)

alternative title: look after you /// sokka baby daddy modern au! (If you’ve seen the show then perfect! If not then it’s alright!)

word count: 1500

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“Are you sure we got all the decorations?” Aang asks, almost fumbling with a bag of gifts to uphold Katara’s banner. “We need decorations, gifts and—“

Toph mumbled something under her breath before taking the gift bags. “Maybe next time I’ll read the list so we’re sure. But, Sugar Queen isn’t picky plus we got the big stuff!” Toph exclaimed, rushing up the stairs hoping it cleared some of Aang’s anxiety. She did attempt several times to talk Aang out of his harmless crush before Katara left to study abroad. Sure, she teases him the most out of everyone but she cared too much to see him fall deeply when it wasn’t reciprocated.

“Yeah, Toph you can read the list,” Aang’s eyes squint as he realizes Toph’s statement. “I fell for it again,” his face falls but he doesn’t hold it for too long before he chuckles watching Toph poke her head over the banister sticking her tongue out at him.

“You gotta get up a bit earlier to beat the blind bandit,” Toph smirks, as she nudges at him realizing he didn’t have his keys. “You left your keys again didn't you?” She rolls her eyes kicking at his shared apartment door with Zuko and Sokka.

“You don’t even get up early, and you snore loudly at that,” Aang complained. The plan was as follows: Aang spends the night at Toph so they could run errands for Katara’s return. “I could hear your snoring in the other room,” Aang inhaled his breath to make a rattling sound and ended it off with slow beats.

Toph shrugged her shoulders. “My apartment, therefore my snores live there too,” They could hear Zuko and Sokka shuffle on the other side of the door. “What’s taking these idiots so long?” Toph raised her foot above the ground to kick at the door again before Zuko appeared on the other side preparing to scold her.

“Aang, next time tell Toph don’t kick at our door. Toph, quit kicking the door,” Zuko’s arms were folded across his chest and his grey shirt and plaid pajama pants both had very large wet spots with little specks of white in the area. “We have a bit of a problem,” Zuko ushered them inside, removing the few bags out of Toph’s hand. As they followed Zuko through the living room which was in shambles—there was an open diaper bag, infant clothes scattered between the couch and chairs. The bright blue car seat remained parked near the couch with a small elephant blanket draped over it.

“I didn’t know me spending the night with Toph meant being replaced with a roommate,” Aang felt Toph wrap her hands around his arm as he guided her over the remaining baby items on the floor.

“Who let you two have a baby and why?” Toph yelped out after nearly tripping over a baby’s instrument that was left on the floor. “I’d sit down but I’m assuming there’s nowhere to sit!”

“Toph, that’s not helpful,” Aang replied, “We need to be supportive,”

“I’m sure this mess isn’t helping this baby either. Which one of you messed up? You should return the baby back!” Toph rested her hands against her hips. “If I get a milk stain on my new shorts you owe me!”

“Don’t blame me,” Zuko fussed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sokka’s the one who—“

Sokka burst out of their bathroom down the hall, his damped clothes were glued to his body. But, as for the tawny-toned, round-faced infant in his arms, she was having a fit of giggles. “That’s not funny, Kita,” He swayed with Kita wrapped in the towel as reached for Sokka’s disheveled hair on his shoulders. “Zuko, I thought we agreed on not assuming who sweet little Kita belongs too? Now, if you want to be helpful pass me a onesie,”

“Sokka, you can’t be serious!” Zuko grabbed the nearest blue onesie from the couch. “The blue round eyes are a give away,” He flung the piece of clothing with one hand while Sokka stepped back in the bathroom.

“She could be Aang’s daughter then?” Sokka replied walking back to the common area. “Did you get everything for the party?”

“Party aside, Sokka, you have to take responsibility. Kita even inherited Yue’s bright colored hair. What would Katara say?” Aang raised an eyebrow. Sokka and Yue didn’t end on bad terms from Aang's perspective, they just stopped understanding each other. It was a mutual break-up. He didn’t want to throw Katara in this situation to belittle him but she’d be a lot harder on him than they were currently being.

Sokka began pacing back and forth with the seven month old. He knew the possibilities were very high that she was his. He hadn’t seen Yue in almost two years, he wouldn’t have ran if she told him the truth. But, abruptly dropping off a seven month old girl in the middle of the night with documents wavering her rights over wasn’t the best way either. There were even a couple of notes on who he could call, and a ton of ultrasound pictures. He certainly wasn’t a teen, but at twenty-three years old he was a little shaken up. “I’m scared alright, there you have it. Tell me how'd you react? I’m all ears,”

“Sokka, it’s perfectly normal to be scared,” Zuko reassured, patting at Sokka’s shoulders. “We’ll help you figure this out and you need to tell your family,”

“Thanks, I really appreciate that,”

“Oh, I was just thinking of what Katara would say but I do agree if that helps,”

“You should’ve kept that to yourself, Hotman,”

“What did I tell you about calling me that Aang?”

“It’s a good nickname! How come Toph is the only one who gets to do them?”

“I don’t even like when she calls me Sparky,”

“If we’re getting new nicknames can Snoozles be changed?”

“No, that’s not at all what we’re doing!”

“But, you just said you didn’t like your nickname!” Aang and Sokka complained in unison.

“While you three debate over that, give me little Wolfie,” Toph moved the diaper bag to the floor, while relieving her from Sokka’s arms. Kita occupied herself by grabbing at Toph’s face or stuffing her own fingers in her mouth. “You guys can start setting up the decorations,”

“Did you just con us into doing all the major work?” Aang yelled from the kitchen pulling out the hammer and nails for the banner.

“Possibly,” Toph shrugged, holding her hands out for Kita to smack. “Plus Zuko has to start the cooking, and Sokka has to clean this mess up,”

It took about two hours for them to really get everything moving. Toph was focused on keeping little Kita busy, she enjoyed babies for the most part they were hand-ons with everything after a certain age. However, Auntie Toph had drawn the lines at changing dirty diapers. She did enjoy hearing Sokka, Aang and Zuko argue over whose turn it was to change the foul mess.

While the plan was for Katara to be surprised by her closest family and friends she had others plans herself. There was an issue with scheduling for another passenger on the plane so Katara had sneaky swapped tickets. She contacted Suki, who now becoming the middle didn’t want to ruin the surprise on both sides and found ways to stall.

Yet, while picking up Katara and Sokka’s relatives and making a few final rounds to the stores couldn’t beat the surprise of waiting for them at the apartment.

“I’m so excited! It’s been four months since I’ve been with everyone, I hope I didn’t miss anything,” Katara exclaimed. “You know I was really worried about going,”

Hakoda pressed a soft kiss against her forehead. “You needed to branch out on your own,” He felt prideful in both of his children everyday, they were vastly different but carried the same level of ambition to succeed.

“Yagoda contacted me all about your work. I can’t wait to hear it from you, now let’s get inside,” Gran-Gran commented, pulling Katara in for another hug. “But, as proud as I am of you, I missed you two much.”

Suki couldn’t get a chance to knock on the apartment door before Zuko opened it revealing a sleeping Sokka on the couch with Kita resting on his chest. While Aang and Toph both slept next to each other in the corner.

The Southern family and Suki held the same confused gaze. “It’s a lot to explain,” Zuko tried to say. What he really wanted to do was grab hold of Katara after not seeing her for so long, but that could wait.

“Suki?”

“Yes, Katara?”

“Please, pour up those cups of Cactus Juice,”

“Does anyone else want a cup?”

“I’ll take one, I need to be real comfortable for this story,”

“Dad, are you gonna let her drink Cactus Juice?”

“Honey, we’re all going to need it for this story,”

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

I’m Ready

Summary: “I can’t...I can’t take my forever if you’re not in it.” 

Picks up right where the show left off. Not technically a fix-it, as I didn’t change anything, but I promise it gets better. 

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of (canon) child abuse and neglect, mentions of past trauma, working through trauma, denial, bit of pining (but, like, in a denial sort of way), some fluff, some angst (but not as much as there is fluff)

Author’s Note: So many thanks to @there-must-be-a-lock​ for endless suggestions, fixes, and beautiful images (header AND dividers!!!). Thanks to all my friends for cheering me on, especially @thoughtslikeaminefield​ ; I probably wouldn’t have kept going with the story without you.

This is my first Destiel story and my first time posting in a while. Please be kind.

Word Count: 7704

In case you missed it: ItMightHaveBeenintentional’s Masterlist

Dean isn’t sure how long he’s been in heaven, at least not by heaven’s timeframe. Probably years, maybe even a couple of decades. He doesn’t age in heaven, and time works differently, running fast and stretching slow. 

For Dean, heaven is a chance to rest, catch up with his massive found family, and just breathe for the first time since he was a kid. No worrying about Sam, no waiting for the next monster to pop out, no prepping for the next apocalypse.

Nothing like heaven to give a guy time to kick his boots off and just relax. 

Unfortunately, relaxing has never come easy to Dean. Sure, he can go through the motions (binge watching horror movies, binge drinking, hell, just bingeing in general), but relaxing is an entirely different matter.

Relaxing means letting his guard down. It means giving up his hypervigilance. It means sleeping hard and staying asleep until he wakes naturally and unassisted by attackers. It means spending long moments reminding himself the monster at the end of the book is really gone.

Sam is safe. Everyone he’s ever loved is safe and close, where he can reach them.

Almost everyone. 

...

Jake Walker is born on the ninth of July at twenty-one seconds past 9:14 AM. His mother Samantha is exhausted after a two-weeks-early delivery, but both she and the baby are strong and steady. Her wife didn’t faint, none of the medical team ever sounded the least worried, and she heard her son’s first shocked wail as he came into the world. Exhausted, but definitely good.

His mom Betty, on the other hand, is an absolute wreck. She’s been anxious the entire pregnancy, despite good news from the doctor at every visit, and she is terrified that the unexpected early arrival of their son means her worst fears are just beginning. 

Betty takes slow, calming breaths, focusing on not clamping down too hard on Sam’s hand. She has to stay strong, calm, for her new family. She has to keep her head on straight, in case—in case —

“Your son is absolutely fine, seems he just had a real particular time he wanted to arrive. Here he is.”

Betty opens her eyes to find a delivery nurse beaming at her, proffering a small, swaddled bundle.

“Never seen such a calm baby. Here, he’s been waiting for you.” 

Betty looks down into the startlingly clear, mossy green eyes gazing up at her from the squashed, serene little face, and she feels something click into place in the middle of her chest. Samantha leans her head back against her pillow, letting out a long slow breath as she smiles, and Betty’s pulse slowly finds its way back to something like normal.

“We’ve been waiting for you, too, big guy.”

...

Trauma doesn’t heal in a day, not even in heaven. All the shit Dean remembers — all the shit he tried to forget — everything he ever managed to suppress — drives him from his bed at night, leaving him sleepless on his front porch, staring blankly into the night, or tinkering on Baby in the garage, digging into the perfect engine, determined to distract himself from his spiraling thoughts. 

Dean has never been an idiot, no matter how many times he played the fool in life. The people he and Sam couldn’t save, the people he let down, none of those deaths are on him. Dean isn’t responsible for the pain and suffering, but he’s haunted by it all the same. 

The problem is, haunts don’t go away on their own. Every hunter knows that. 

It’s not that he wants forgiveness; how can he be forgiven for something he isn’t responsible for? He needs to see those people, though, see that they’re okay and at peace. He has to make sure everyone is where they should be, safe and at least content. And even if he ultimately isn’t their killer, didn’t want their deaths, would have done anything to prevent them, he still needs them to know...to know everything. 

He needs absolution.

And if the person who needs to hear those things the most is MIA, well, they’ve got a history of not saying a lot of things face to face. There’s always prayer, right? 

Dean starts by visiting a couple of people he hadn’t been able to save along the way, feeling strangely like someone following a twelve step program. Objectively, (ie, according to the people he talks to), he’s got nothing to apologize for. He did his best; he made tough decisions in situations forced upon him. They don’t blame him in the least, and most are truly and obviously thankful for his intervention.

Their words don’t make much of a dent in the mountain of guilt Dean carries on his shoulders, but it’s a start. 

Once or twice, Dean finds himself looking up at the sky, so far from empty, opening his mouth to call out — an action so common on earth it nearly became reflex —but he stops himself both times. He’s not ready for that conversation.

But he needs to talk to someone closer to him, a deeper connection than the monster victims he’s been visiting. 

He’s restless, needs to move a little, needs to talk to…

Someone. He needs to talk to someone. But he can’t. Hell, he can’t even say the name. 

Pacing the garage turns to a wandering ramble down the road, past Sam and his family’s house, past Mom and Dad’s house (there’s a conversation or fifty that he’s not ready for), until he finds himself in front of what can only be described as a hobbit hole. He shakes his head, not for the first time, the corner of his mouth tilted up as he knocks on the circular front door. 

He’s greeted by bright red hair, a surprisingly crushing hug, and one of the brightest smiles Dean has ever seen.

“Hey, Charlie. Can we, uh...You up for a walk? I was hopin we could talk for a while.”

...

Jake grows quickly and steadily, always near the top of all his growth charts but never alarmingly so. He’s bright, quick to anger and quick to laugh, and fiercely loving. He is both his mothers’ boy, always up for a cuddle or a wrestle, and he loves to build block towers and demolish them with equal abandon. 

He makes his displeasure with vegetables known early on. On this particular morning, he introduces his strained peas to the kitchen wall with surprising velocity. Betty knows better than to encourage this attitude, so she hides her smile behind calm, controlled admonition as she offers another spoonful. 

Jake looks her straight in the eyes, his smile dazzling and laughter bright, and she knows she hasn’t fooled him one bit. She sighs and lets her own smile match his. He won her over the day he was born; there’s not much point trying to fight it now.

“Come on, babe, eat your peas and we’ll see about some of those stewed apples left over from Mommy’s pie filling. Deal?”

She scrunches her nose and wiggles her eyebrows. Jake’s little eyes widen at her expression, and he tries to imitate it before dissolving into giggles. Betty takes the opportunity to poke a spoonful of peas into his open mouth. 

She’s not spent much time around kids before this, but Betty swears she’s never seen a baby look so resigned and exasperated in real life. But she’s played her trump card. He’s too young for the crust, but a couple of spoonfuls of smashed up fruit (apple is his favorite), and Jake is guaranteed to eat just about anything she presents.

“Pie?” she asks.

Jake smiles and opens his mouth wider.

...

“SURPRISE!!!”

The last time he was shocked this badly, Sam didn’t let him forget that fucking cat for years. Or ever, really. Seems like everyone he ever knew is stuffed into his living room, barely leaving room for the balloon bouquets and a massive… That’s not a cake, it’s…

That’s the most beautiful apple pie Dean has ever seen in his entire life. 

Dean is engulfed by arms, hugging and patting and slapping his back (was that a pinch on his ass?), everyone eager to get their turn with him, wishing him a happy birthday, saying they can’t wait until he opens his presents, it’s so good to see him, he’s looking so rested!

He manages to extract himself from the wellwishers, citing parental obligations, and finally makes his way over to Mary, smiling warmly and offering him a knife and a plate. His eyes flick anxious from his mom to the golden brown circle of perfection before him, but he can’t bring himself to ask. Mary’s smile widens.

“I didn’t lay a hand on it except to take it out of the box. Happy Birthday, Dean.”

Six plates of pie later, Dean reclines on his couch, letting the relaxed atmosphere of the party sink into his bones. The excitement and crowd of early have begun to wind down, leaving a double handful of family, both blood and found, all telling the most embarrassing, terrible Dean stories they can think of.

It’s possible Dean’s never laughed this hard in his entire life.

He heaves a deep sigh of contentment and props his feet ponderously on the coffee table, draping an arm across the back of the couch and surveying the room. 

Donna, one of the apparent party conspirators, tosses him a sparkling grin over her shoulder before turning back to a rather animated conversation with Charlie about the length of Dean’s wig at the LARPing battle. Sam and Kevin are recounting Dean’s worst cooking disasters to Garth’s wife, and Bobby is entertaining Mary with Dean’s disastrous attempt to flirt with the pizza delivery girl who delivered to Bobby’s house most weekends when Sam and Dean would stay with him. 

If Dean had to describe one perfect day, this would be just about it, down to the flakiness of the pie crust and the amazing collection of horror movies and original vinyls he’s been gifted. Almost every single person he could possibly want present is there, and since he isn’t dwelling on absence today, Dean decides to push his wandering thoughts out of his head and just soak it all in.

Every muscle in his body hums contentedly, and Dean feels strangely warm and peaceful, but excited, all at once. It’s weird, just sitting here and enjoying the moment, not worrying about the next minute or hour or day or even year. He’s full of pie, he’s got great tunes to look forward to, and there’s nothing to worry about. 

He’s happy.

Naturally, that’s when the panic sets in. This won’t last; it never does. Happiness can’t last. He learned that a long time ago. 

Sure, it’s heaven, but he doesn’t deserve to be here, so something is going to spoil it for him, for everyone. Probably Dean himself, he thinks as his eyes dart from his mom to his dad. Dean always seems to find a way to fuck things up, couldn’t take care of Sam, couldn’t keep himself alive, couldn’t even keep the Empty from—

“Hey, birthday boy.” Jody’s voice somehow reaches Dean through his darkening thoughts, and he comes back to himself in stages, focusing on the warmth of her hands on his shoulders. She stands behind the couch, leaning down to squeeze his shoulders. “Wanna get some air?”

He nods blindly and climbs numbly to his feet. Jody guides him efficiently out the door and points Dean in an arbitrary direction. They walk for what could be moments or hours as Dean plows through the morass in his mind. 

“I get it,” Jody finally says. 

Dean glances sharply at her. 

“I still have random panic attacks sometimes, wondering if Alex is safe at the hospital, if this is going to be the hunt that gets Claire.” Her eyes are fixed on some point in the distance, and he gets the feeling she’s deliberately not meeting his eyes. “I check on Owen every thirty minutes on my bad nights, and I have to lay hands and eyes on Sean to convince myself he’s really there before I can calm down. It always takes me a minute or sixty to make myself remember where we are, where everyone is, and that there isn’t some big or even small bad waiting around the corner or under the bed.”

Dean stuffs his hands in his pockets, stuffing down his automatic reassurances. The first half of his life was spent avoiding conversations like this, and it took him a long time to unlearn the knee-jerk reaction to brush off people’s concerns with some variation of “Everything’s fine.”

Jody, with an awareness born of decades of hunting and parenthood, senses his discomfort. She slows her steps and catches Dean’s elbow, turning him gently to face her.

“That feeling in your gut when the happiness comes, the panic, that knowledge deep, deep down that everything good is bound to turn to shit.” Jody reaches out and wipes a trickle of moisture from Dean’s face.

It’s not raining, he thinks, frowning. Where the hell did that come from?

“You're going to unlearn it. You’re the toughest bastard I’ve ever met, Dean, and you've been through literal hell. If anyone has earned their happiness up here, it’s you. You’re allowed to be happy, and someday you’ll know it.”

Dean would love to reply right now, to contradict Jody. He’d love to remind her of all the bad calls he made, of all the torturing he did in hell, of all the lies he told... 

But this knot in his throat is choking him. And still Jody persists.

“I know how goddamned stubborn you are, but you’re not stupid either. We have nothing to forgive you for. Maybe once you’ve talked to everyone on your list, you’ll see that, too. But in the meantime, take a deep breath, give me a hug, and at least say in your head that you’re allowed to enjoy yourself at your own damned birthday party, even if you can’t admit it out loud.”

And if the damp patch on Jody’s shoulder bothers her as they stroll back to Dean’s house to grab a couple of beers, at least she’s tactful enough to not mention it.

...

Jake takes care of his family. He’s a fairly serious, empathetic toddler, quick to kiss other’s ouchies. After receiving his first Elmo bandage, Jake insists on bandaging his stuffed puppy’s tail, his tyrannosaurus rex’s left eye (“He fight with stegosaurus,” Jake solemnly informs Samantha as he presses the adhesive strip in place), and then an old, almost-healed shaving cut on Betty’s left knee. 

“Mama better now?” Jake asks, somehow managing to sound strictly professional and absurdly adorable at the same time. He looks up to Betty for approval, and she wonders how she manages to let him touch the ground at all with how much she just wants to hold him all day long. 

“Mama so much better now,” she informs him, careful to stay serious. He rewards her with the golden smile that is the highlight of her days before rushing off to find someone else he can fix up. 

Both Betty and Samantha marvel in his quickness to share his snacks. They never refuse an offered Cheerio from him, no matter how damp or sticky (though a few of those disappear quickly when Jake’s attention wanders). 

The discussion over a first pet is fairly quick and decisive. Everyone agrees the pet must be something fluffy that can be cuddled. Betty vetoes anything smaller than a cantaloupe, citing her clumsiness and tendency to step on things that should never be trod upon. Jake vetoes cats, saying he just doesn’t trust them, and Mommy and Mama share one of their silent conversations before Samantha speaks up.

“A puppy it is, then, Jakey. Let’s go look up some good breeds.”

Their first pet is a rescue named Garth, at Jake’s adamant insistence, though they're still not sure where he learned that name in the first place. Garth is clumsy, awkward, easy-going, and the most spoiled and cared for pet in the neighborhood. 

Jake’s little sister Tabitha comes along shortly before his fourth birthday, and he takes to big brotherhood with an authority and self-assurance that delights every stranger the family meets. When she eventually starts walking, Jake is right by her side, guiding each one of her toddling little steps while a beaming Mommy and Mama follow close behind.

No one is even a little surprised when Tabby’s first whole word is “Hake.” She masters the letter j eventually, but continues to refer to his big brother by the name she gave him for most of the rest of their lives. Jake doesn’t even pretend to be annoyed.

“It was just a matter of time,” Samantha says one night, as she and Betty are getting ready for bed one night not long after Tabby has given Jake his new moniker. “You know what I mean?”

Betty, who has known exactly what Sam means since the day she literally tripped over her future wife at university, smiles and turns down the covers on her side of the bed. 

“That’s Jake,” she says. They’ve spent hours, discussing their son’s odd, charming quirks long into the night, offering up phrases like “old soul” and “wise,” and eventually realized nothing they said could ever completely encompass the loving little person they somehow managed to bring into the world.

“That’s Jake,” Sam agrees, and turns her version of Jake’s golden smile on her wife. Mischief sparkles in her eyes, and Betty wonders how she ended up with three people in her life that she absolutely cannot win against. 

“Ready to get sweaty, Betty?”

Betty groans but can’t hold back her grin. “You are the absolute worst, and that is exactly why I love you.”

…

Sam manages to shock Dean when he insists on a big family Christmas. His extra years on earth apparently helped the younger Winchester warm to the idea of holidays, finally getting to enjoy them with his son as he never did during his own childhood. 

Sam doesn’t have to try very hard to talk everyone into celebrating. Things have been calm and serene, more than a little on the uneventful side, and Dean figures it will add some variety to his afterlife. Something to plan, something to look forward to that won’t be crashed by murderous Elder Gods or various other supernatural entities. 

Probably. 

Dean secretly loves that feeling of finding the perfect present for someone, something he was never really in a position to do back on earth. He takes a deep breath, proactively reminding himself that this is okay, this is allowed, this is good, that everything is not only okay but actually kind of great, really.

He can be happy. He can. He can do this. 

 The shade of red Sam’s face turns before he finally dissolves into laughter is a thousand percent worth the degradation of actually gifting someone a signed vinyl copy of Celine Dion’s first solo album.

“It’s perfect, Dean. Thanks, man.” Sam pulls his brother into a hug, and his giant paw slapping Dean in the middle of the back literally knocks the panic right out of him. Deans huffs, at a loss for words, and hugs Sam back perhaps just a smidge too forcefully before letting him go.

“You’ll never top Sapphire Barbie for best Christmas present, but this runs a close second.” Sam shakes his head, still grinning as he reads over the back cover of the album while Mary and John look on, varying levels of confusion and amusement on their faces.

“What’s he talking about, Dean?” John asks. He takes a long drink of his whiskey. “Sapphire Barbie? Some kinda code word or something?”

Sam and Dean glance at each other, their shoulders tensing automatically. For a moment, Dean can actually feel the phantom hunger pains transposed over the current fullness of his belly, and he can see a tiny Sam (still way more hair than necessary), huddled despondent and hungry under a shitty, moth-eaten motel blanket, convinced there would be no Christmas. 

“Dean, uh...accidentally got me a Barbie for Christmas one year, it was — a, uh — yeah, he wanted to make sure I got a present, so he grabbed it, and…” Sam trails off. 

John huffs a confused laugh, and Dean’s hackles rise at the scoff, so like Sam’s and yet so much more...condescending. John rises from the couch and goes to refill his glass. Sam seems content to let the moment pass, but something in Dean’s gut, something latent and ignored since his heavenly ascension, sparks and smolders bitterly. 

“How the hell do you ‘accidentally’ get somebody a Barbie?” John asks, still chuckling, and Dean suddenly realizes he’s real fucking tired of biting his tongue.

“I stole the Barbie. Stole a couple of other things, too. A Christmas tree, some decorations, a baton.” 

Mary glances between her sons, confused, before turning to John. “Where were you while this happened?” 

A parade of emotions march over John’s face: confusion is followed by slow recognition. Guilt makes a quick appearance only to be chased away by dull, ashamed anger. 

Dean can practically see John’s mind flashing through the scenario, recalling more about the hunt than his own sons on that cold, nasty Christmas Eve. He knows the instant his dad reverts to default setting of laying the blame on his eldest son. Dean braces himself automatically, his body viscerally reacting to the familiar storm on his father’s face.

Dean has the fleeting thought that at least his dad is drinking from a glass now; ought to hurt a lot less than being hit with a whole bottle.

“You left your brother to go steal from somebody else’s home on Christmas? After what happened with the shtriga?” 

Dean knows true anger, near rage, for the first time in heaven, and the bitter wash of it through him is cutting and all too familiar. 

“Pretty stupid thing to do, I know, but I wasn’t even twelve yet, so I wasn’t making the wisest of decisions.”

“Not even twelve?” Mary cuts in. “Sam? Does anybody feel like explaining this to me?”

“What the hell were you thinking, Dean, anything could have—” 

But Dean had a lifetime of being plowed under by his dad’s inability to take responsibility, has had way more than enough of shouldering the blame for shit he should never have been left with in the first place.

“I was thinking that somebody should get a seven-year-old something for Christmas, should make sure he has enough to eat. Where were you, Dad? What were you thinking? Because you sure as hell weren’t thinking about us.”

That knot starts up in Dean’s throat again, the muscles tightening against the fear that blossoms in his chest, echoed from decades of training. Sam’s hand finds Dean’s arm, and Dean looks to him. Instead of the caution or reproach he’s expecting, though, all Sam simply nods. 

“Say it, Dean.”

Dean stands slowly, facing John Winchester with every bit of strength he’s built, every bit of courage he’s earned from a lifetime of terror, and realizes that the angry, bitter man before him is no more a threat to him anymore than Chuck is. And without looking, he knows Sam stands behind him, solid and resolute.

“I wasn’t even twelve. It was Christmas, and you abandoned us. Yeah, I stole Sam a Barbie doll. You know what I got for Christmas that year? The year before? Every fucking year before that for almost as long as I can remember?”

John opens his mouth, even now unable to admit his faults, but Dean barrels on before his dad can get a word out.

“Not a damn thing from you. Not one damn thing. Not presents, not food, not a warm place to sleep or a word of thanks or approval. Not even a fucking phone call to say Merry Goddamn Christmas.” Dean pauses one last time, and it suddenly feels like he’s towering over the man whose shadow always felt too dark, too large, too suffocating; the man whose respect he used to crave more than food and water. 

“What about me, Dad? Huh? What about me?”

Dean doesn’t recall leaving his parents’ house, doesn’t remember driving home, but he finds himself on his own front porch, leaning forward in his rocking chair. He takes in a long, deep breath before scrubbing his hands through hair and leaning against the back of the chair.

A breeze rifles the leaves of a nearby tree, ruffling Dean’s hair. He taps his thumb against the arm of the chair and takes a long moment to breathe in the night air. 

Dean lets his thoughts roll around for a while. The stars creep slowly across the black, the crickets chirp, and the breeze continues to tickle through Dean’s mussed hair. 

“You and I could write the book on shitty dads, am I right, kid?”

He’s not sure why he decides to talk to Jack. Just nice to have someone to talk to, knowing they’re not going to talk right back.

“Could just cut him out. Dunno how that’d work in heaven.” He thinks a moment, then grins to himself. “Not sure Mom’d let me get away with that. Sam would back me up, though.” Dean grins into the somehow not-empty night. “I would be the guy that brings a family feud into paradise, huh?”

Dean takes in the wilderness around him, the empty house at his back, the extra rocking chair for...a visitor, he supposes. He has learned today that heaven, as perfect as it is, still holds anger and bitterness and loneliness, and he figures that’s to be expected. 

“You still did good, kid. You and me, we did good even with our shitty old men in and outta our lives. Glad we cut yours out for good. Guess I’ll figure out how to deal with mine eventually. All I’ve got now is time, anyway.”

Dean pushes up slowly, still surprised at the lack of cricks, pops, and aches that accompanied the action his last couple of years on earth. 

“Night, Jack,” he says into the wind. He glances over at the empty rocking chair one last time. “If you see him, tell him —just tell him—” 

Dean frowns, shakes his head, and turns his back on the night.

…

Jake’s not a crier, not really. There are inevitable tears that come with bad falls, but Jake sheds tears like it’s a physical reaction that he’s getting out of the way so he can move on. 

So when Betty goes to change the sheets in her son’s room, only to find him silently crying on the floor, she panics. Sheets flop forgotten to the side as she drops next to his, reaching instinctively for his still-plump cheeks.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?”

“Nothing happened, Mama, I’m sorry I scared you,” he sniffles, his eyebrows down low on his small forehead. 

Jake has never lied in his entire young life, and Betty is torn because he is obviously upset about something, but his face is full of nothing but truth and confusion.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Jakey,” she says, settling on the floor next to him and opening her arms. He instantly climbs into her lap, hooking his own arms around her neck and nuzzling under her chin. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Can you tell me what made you cry?”

“I...I don’t know,” he says, his little voice quiet and heavily confused. “I was playing with Tabby, she was helping me build a tower with my blocks, and then Mommy came to get Tabby for her snack.”

Betty is stumped. Jake has never had any kind of separation anxiety, as far as she can tell. He’s spent nights with both sets of grandparents, even a couple of weekends with aunts, uncles, and cousins, and never shed so much as a single tear.

“You...are you crying because you miss Tabby? She’s right in the next room, baby, you can go with her for snack time, you know that.”

“No, Mama, I —I don’t know why I’m crying. Tabby hugged me, she said she loved me, then she went with Mommy, and I felt...really happy. Like —the happiest ever, and...it was too much happy?”

The last part comes out as a question, and honestly Betty isn’t sure how to answer it. 

“Well, baby,” she starts hesitantly, not sure where to lead this particular discussion. “Can you explain  what you mean when you say ‘too much happy’?”

He snuggles closer against her chest, his forehead pressing along her jaw. “I dunno. I think...maybe I’m not supposed to be that happy? Is that why the tears came out? Because I got more happy than I’m supposed to get? Was I wrong, Mama?”

Betty breathes slowly, tightening her hold on the little boy in her arms. “You weren’t wrong, Jake. You can be as happy as you want. There’s never too much happy, I promise.”

She feels him shift, and she looks down to meet his clear, green gaze. He studies her carefully, scrutinizing her expression, and she’s reminded why she’s always been so very careful to tell her children the truth, albeit on levels they can understand.

“You pinky promise?” 

The proffered pinky is smudged, pudgy, and absolutely perfect. Betty hooks her pinky finger with her son’s, bumping his nose gently with her own. 

“Jakey, you have my eternal permission to be as happy as you are capable of feeling. And no one is ever allowed to take that from you. Good?” He nods, and she carefully brushes the tear tracks from his cheeks. “Sometimes feelings are really big, and they’re just a little too big for your body. They have to find a way out, and that’s why the tears come out.”

“Is that why you cry when you watch the kissy movies?” he asks, suddenly smiling. “Your feelings are too big, too?”

“Yup. We’ve got big feelings in this family, Jakey. Better get used to it, kiddo.”

...

More time passes. Dean walks, he talks, he goes through the motions. He heals a little with every conversation, every time he reaches out, and even though some of the wounds feel as fresh as the day he got them, eventually all that’s left are faint scars. He’d never willingly erase the scars, anyway. He earned them, and he’ll be damned if something like a little death and talk therapy could just wipe them away.

Gradually — so gradually Dean doesn’t realize it until Donna makes a comment one night after their regular poker game — Dean learns to not only let his guard down but drop it entirely. He’s shocked to realize the loss of his emotional armor doesn’t even bother him. 

Dean works on Baby, drinks with Bobby, teaches Mary how to make an apple pie from scratch, and even manages to have a couple of honest, semi-civil conversations with his father. They don’t exactly reach Andy and Opie levels of father-son bonding, but John does eventually manage to grudgingly admit he fucked up some (a lot). Dean supposes anyone can make progress in heaven if they try hard enough. 

He’s talked to everyone he can think of, settled scores, smoothed ruffles, filled himself to bursting with absolution. Dean is so absolved he thinks he might punch the next person who pats him on the back and tells him how much good he’s done for the world.

And still, he comes home every night to that extra rocking chair. 

He waits now, waits while he talks with Sam, waits while he walks through the woods, waits while he changes Baby’s oil. He can’t shake the feeling that something is coming. He can feel it around himself, like a suit of armor or a second skin. Nothing terrible, nothing ominous, but something. Which is weird because nothing ever seems to happen in heaven, not really. 

Could be he’s just bored, but Dean doesn’t think that’s it. Not entirely.

He talks to Jack nightly now. It’s a habit, something to help Dean talk through and untangle his thoughts into something he can understand. He looks forward to their talks, being able to get his feelings out without being either validated or rebuffed. Just letting some steam off.

He’s done it for so long that he can barely remember the night he started. Dean knows Jack can hear him, but the kid’s been true to his word, stayed hands off and radio silent. He lets mortals deal with their own issues, keeping himself and the supernatural world well away. Even the angels leave people alone in heaven.

Especially the angels, Dean grudgingly admits to himself, late one night after leaving Sam’s house. Instead of going home to that extra rocking chair, he drives Baby slowly, aimlessly, yet somehow ends up back on that same bridge where he met up Sam all those years ago. 

He parks right at the end (no traffic in heaven) and strolls out to the middle, scuffing his boots and sending little puffs of dust in the air. His hands are stuffed deep in his pockets, out of habit more than anything else, and he lifts his gaze from the ground up to the full moon in the sky.

“Hey, kid,” he says softly. “Hope it’s goin good for you.Things are pretty good here. I know you know, you’re everywhere and all that,” Dean waves his hand vaguely, then continues, “Just wanted to let you know, I guess. I didn’t tell you enough, but we—I —really appreciated you. Appreciate you. You, uh...you did real good, kid. Then and now.” He pauses, then takes a breath, standing straight and letting all pretense go.“Please tell Cas...he did good, and...I miss him. And I know you’re all taking the hands-off approach, but —I dunno, maybe...he could —stop by? Or…”

The silence around Dean is heavy, comforting like a thick blanket.  

Or a tan trenchcoat, he thinks.

“Jack —“

He cuts himself off, though. He spent all this time in heaven working through rivers of bullshit, wearing down mountains of lies and self-loathing until he can finally be honest and open with everyone. And if he’s going to be honest with himself tonight, Jack isn’t who he needs to talk to.

“Sorry kid, I gotta put you on hold.”

Purgatory flashes before his eyes, that sense of loss and being lost, the desperation and certainty that he’d never see his best friend again. 

I can’t do this anymore, he thinks. I can’t pretend anymore. And I’m done lying to myself.

“Cas. Castiel. I hope you can hear me. I miss you. I don’t know where you are. Bobby said you were here, that you helped remake this place into something pretty damned awesome, but I never see you. I can feel you sometimes, can tell some things are up here just because you put ‘em there. Someone will tell a story, and I swear I can feel you standing right beside me, can almost hear you frowning and not understanding the joke. I…”

He knows there’s something left —knows he hasn’t found the right words yet. He has no idea what that right thing is, or even what he’s still waiting for, but he figures if he just barrels on, it’ll come to him. 

“There was too much in the way, back on earth, in Purgatory. Too much always coming after us, trying to kill us or worse. I got in my own damned way, never knew what to say or how to say it. Didn’t think I deserved...I should’ve…”

He’s not sure what’s more bizarre, that he’s praying to someone who probably won’t respond — probably can’t even hear him — or that he’s doing so in a place wildly opposite from that last time he prayed like this. 

Dean isn’t sure how he keeps ending up in this situation, but here he is, gasping out his feelings to the night air, barely able to squeeze the words past that perpetual knot in his throat. 

“It’s a lot clearer up here, more room to breathe and think. This heaven you and Jack made...it’s great. Hell, it’s damn near perfect. But there’s no you. And I just can’t see my heaven as right without you. I can’t...I can’t take my forever if you’re not in it.”

A wispy cloud, silver in the moonlight, drifts across an otherwise flawless sky. Dean stares upwards for several minutes, wondering if Cas can see the same stars tonight, wherever he is. 

“Maybe...I don’t know if you can come back. Or if you even left. I don’t know how any of it works.”

He’s on the cusp. He can almost taste the next step. 

Dean’s at a loss, though. He could be brave: he could say everything he should’ve said in that last moment, everything he should have told Cas. 

Or he could take the comfortable path, revert to being a dick and tell Cas exactly how he feels about all this silent treatment, about the no-show in heaven or not telling him about his deal with the Empty until it was too late, about waiting until the last second so Dean would have no time—

Or he could do both. 

Both is good.

Metal railings squeak under Dean’s punishing grip. He’s not sure when he grabbed hold of the bridge itself, but right now he needs all the support he can get.

“You left me! You should have told me, given me a chance. Another chance, just one more. I’m sorry, Cas, I knew but I didn’t. I— I should’ve told you, should’ve held you, I could have—“

The tears flow unimpeded, the air squeezed from his lungs in convulsive gasps, but Dean can’t stop now.

“I should have told you everything I felt, every day. I should have trusted you more, and I’m so sorry. You were always family, you were always there for me when I needed you. We both fucked up so many times, lost so much time together. I was so angry at you, at me, at everyone and everything, and I let it get in the way.”

The silence around him is maddening. Here he is, ripping his guts out in the middle of the bridge, and all he gets back is crickets and evening breezes. Dean shoves off the railing, too frantic to stay still.

“Gimme something, Cas, anything! I’m pouring my heart out! I fucked up, and I’m sorry, and I swear I’m gonna do better, but you’ve gotta give me the chance! Just...just give me some sort of answer, please? Let me know you’re there!”

The silence persists. 

Just as quickly as Dean’s rage crescendos, it fizzles suddenly. He drops to the ground, back and head slamming hard against the side of the bridge as he lets out a roar of helpless rage. His fists grip his hair, teeth grinding against the wave of helplessness that threatens to overwhelm him.

“I missed my chance, I waited too long, I should’ve said— I should have—“

And then it comes to him.

His hands draw down from his hair, scrubbing his face before steepling his fingers in front of his mouth. He can’t believe it’s taken him this long to realize. 

“I’m an idiot.” His voice is barely audible, even to his own ears, but he has no doubt his words will reach their intended destination. “This place you built, you and Jack, it’s as good as it gets. I deserve it, I earned it. I got my family, I got the easy life for a while. I got my family. I had my rest. There’s only one thing left in the universe I need, only one person I want.”

Dean stands, dusting himself off and turning his face back up to the stars. 

“I’m ready, Cas. I— I love you. And I’m ready for the next thing. Whatever that is. However that is. As long as—”

One last pause.

“As long as you’re there, that’s all I need.”

...

The inevitable day of separation comes: Jake’s first day of kindergarten. Samantha is proud of her guardian warrior, knows he’s going to succeed at everything he puts his little bullheaded mind to. Betty hopes very hard that he won’t be too lonely without Tabitha there with him. Tabitha only knows that Jake’s finger tastes good and makes her gums feel better when she chews on it.

Jake, as always, approaches this monumental step with aplomb and logic. 

“I’ll give it a shot,” he says casually as his little sister gnaws on his thumb. “An’ if I don’t like it, I’ll just stay here and take care of Tabby. You an’ Mommy can go to work, then, ‘kay, Mama? I can make nut butter n’ jelly sammiches. But I’ll try it out.”

...

School isn’t so bad, Jake decides on his second day. His teacher Mrs. Harris seems to know what she’s doing (she already knows who she can trust with scissors and glue), and the other kids are nice enough. There’s different toys (“learning tools”, Mrs. Harris calls them), so that’s interesting enough, but—

Something is missing.

“Can you tell me what you mean, Jakey?” Betty asks at dinner that night. “Are there supplies you need? We got everything on the list.” She wipes a smear of sweet potato off Tabitha’s face before looking back to her son. His mouth is turned down in a frown of concentration, like he’s trying to remember something.

“I don’t need anything, Mama, just...someone. I need someone. My friend hasn’t come to school yet.”

“It takes time to make friends, baby,” Samantha says. “It’s only the second day of school. Have you tried asking anyone to play yet?”

“Yeah, and they’re fun and all, but they aren’t my friend. My friend isn’t here yet,” Jake says. Then his frown vanishes with the sudden mood change of a five-year-old, and he turns beseeching eyes on Betty, aiming unerringly at the softer target. “I finished my green beans. That means dessert now, right, Mama?”

Jake decides on the third day that the best place to wait for his friend (he just knows he’s going to show up any day now) is the playground.

“My friend likes the playground,” he murmurs. “That’s good, I like the playground, too.” He eats his lunch slowly, watching the other kids wolf down their food so they can have extra playtime. He’s barely finished his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, though, when he’s distracted by movement on the other side of the play yard. The door to the school opens and the school secretary steps out. Then she turns and gently pulls someone out from behind her.

A small boy stands in the doorway, white shirt tucked neatly into black slacks. His blue tie is a little loose, as if he’s been tugging on it, and his tan jacket is a little too big, hanging loosely around his small frame. His hair looks like someone was in too much of a rush to comb it properly. He clutches a pink piece of paper in one hand and, in the other, a backpack inexplicably decorated with flying, winged slices of pizza. 

“Late drop-off, parent had to run,” the secretary tells Mrs. Harris before tiptoeing out of the room. 

With an anxious glance at the other children, the boy scuttles forward and immediately trips over his own untied shoelaces.

Jake is at the little boy’s side before anyone else can react, kneeling down to check on him. The prone child is too shocked to cry, both by the fall and by the sudden appearance of this unknown factor. Jake checks him over, then nudges him until he sits up. 

“You gotta keep ‘em double tied,” Jake says seriously. “Or else that’ll happen all the time.” Without waiting for an answer, Jake sets about the laborious task of looping each set of laces in turn, rabbits chasing each other around trees and down holes until the shoes are secure.

Jake climbs to his feet and reaches down, gripping the other boy’s shoulders and helping him stand. A dark smear of jelly stains the shoulder of the coat in the shape of a smudged purple handprint.

“Thank...thank you,” the smaller boys whispers. He lifts his eyes hesitantly, and clear blue meets olive green for the first time. “I’m Chris.”

“I’m Jake.” He thinks for a long moment, frowning. Something is settling in his chest, something big and permanent and scary; at first he thinks it’s too much. 

Then he thinks back to what Mama told him: you can be as happy as you want. 

He smiles at Chris. “You’re with me. You’re the one I was waiting for.”

Hope and just a bit of delight flicker across Chris’s eager face. 

“I am? You mean it?”

Jake nods and grabs his new friend’s hand. “Yep. Now you’re here, that’s all I need. And nobody's allowed to take you from me, Mama said so. C’mon, let’s play cars.”

[peraltasames]

you outshine the morning sun, my son

amy's first lazy saturday morning home with jake and mac 💗

read on ao3

Amy can immediately sense something is off when she wakes. There’s something strange - something in the air that feels different, foreign, unfamiliar.

It takes a moment and a glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand informing her that it’s half-past nine, but she realizes that what’s different is the silence.

All week since they brought Mac home from the hospital, she’s woken each morning (and many, many nights) to the sound of her son crying in the bassinet next to their bed, which is currently empty - as is Jake’s side of the mattress.

A part of her is tempted to fall back asleep and take advantage of as many uninterrupted hours of rest as she can get, but her mother’s words of advice in the maternity ward a week ago ring loud in her memory: “Don’t take it for granted. Not one early Saturday morning, not one late-night diaper change, not a single moment.”

Truly, she has loved every minute of being a mother so far, including the sleepless nights and diapers. She does appreciate the value of sleep more than ever before, as well, but she figures the woman who raised eight children must have some idea what she’s talking about. She’s not going to waste a single moment.

The sight she’s greeted with the moment she steps into the living room is more than enough proof that Camila was absolutely right.

Jake is laying on the couch in nothing but sweatpants, Mac draped over his chest and nestled in the crook of his elbow. He’s happily drinking from one of the bottles she pumped yesterday, incredibly content in his dad’s arms while Jake watches some Saturday morning cartoon on low volume.

(He’s been spending a lot more time with fewer clothes on in the name of skin-on-skin contact. She’s not sure if she’s more turned on by him following advice he read in a book or the added bonus of seeing her husband walking around the apartment without a shirt on all the time.)

It’s a picture-perfect image, one that she would be remiss not to document despite the fact that the memory is likely to live in her brain for many years to come. She pulls her phone out of the pocket of her pajama pants and snaps a photo that’s definitely lockscreen-worthy.

“Good morning, you two,” she says with a blinding smile, leaning against the doorframe.

Jake turns his attention away from the TV to meet her gaze, his face immediately softening and the corner of his mouth turning upward.

“Mornin’, beautiful.”

The constant string of compliments he’s given her any time he gets the chance since they learned of her pregnancy still makes her cheeks turn pink, not unlike the blush that crept on her face from her ears to the tip of her nose when he first brought her flowers before a date or put his arm around her at the movies.

“There’s coffee in the kitchen, should still be hot. And I cut up a mango on reflex, so that’s in the fridge if you want some.”

She smiles; mangoes were one of her most frequent pregnancy cravings, and Jake would often bring her a bowl while she was watching TV or as breakfast in bed before she even thought to ask for it.

“Thanks, babe,” she says, swooping down to kiss his cheek on her way to the kitchen.

She savours the taste of hot, fully-caffeinated coffee on her tongue - she’s still limiting her intake while breastfeeding, but it’s a luxury after all these months of herbal tea and decaf.

She settles in on the couch next to her son and her husband, setting her mug on the table so she can curl into Jake’s side and lay her head on his shoulder.

“You know you don’t have to watch kids shows, he’s way too young to care or understand what’s happening on the TV,” she tells him, reaching over to stroke Mac’s chubby little arm with her finger.

“Yes, right, because I was obviously watching Teen Titans Go for the sake of our son and not my own personal interest,” Jake chuckles nervously, grabbing the remote and switching to HGTV.

Amy rolls her eyes and laughs at her dork of a husband. She can’t think of anyone in the world more suited to be a father than the strong, selfless, complete goofball of a man she’s so lucky to have married.

“Thanks for letting me sleep in,” she murmurs, her lips moving against his shoulder.

“No problem. You needed it, and it was nice to have some one-on-one time with this little dude,” Jake smiles, gently tugging on Mac’s tiny foot in his light blue onesie. “Right, buddy?”

Mac makes a small noise, pushing away the bottle and looking right at Amy. Almost immediately, his hands start flitting around on Jake’s chest and he starts to cry. She knows it’s not his hungry cry or his dirty diaper cry, so she deduces that he simply wants her to hold him.

“Looks like someone missed mommy,” Jake laughs, carefully passing him over to her. “I don’t blame you, kiddo.”

“It’s okay, baby,” Amy whispers, rocking him back and forth slowly. “I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

She takes a moment to get him nestled into a comfortable position in her arms, but once she does, he settles down and stops crying instantly. She can feel his breaths begin to even out, and his eyelids begin to droop right on schedule for his typical mid-morning nap - based on his adherence to a regular routine, he’s definitely taking after her already despite the uncanny resemblance to Jake that’s becoming more and more apparent each day.

“We’re not bad at this, are we?”

“I think we’re doing pretty solid so far,” Jake agrees, his arm curling around her body and gently guiding her to lay back against his chest.

Amy sinks into him, her cheek pressed to his warm skin. His arms encircle her, with one hand securely holding Mac in place on top of her.

There are elements of her childhood that she would never inflict upon her own children, and there were certainly times that her parents let the spirit of competition in their household fester to the point of causing major inferiority complexes; and yet, her mother was undeniably right about the value of time spent with family.

The family she’s managed to create for herself - the perfect child that she wanted for so long and she loves more than anything on this earth, the dream husband who doesn’t care about binders or grammar or literature but has made her laugh every day since she’s known him - this is the most important thing in the world.

“Do you want me to make you something to eat? Or I can run out and grab something?” Jake offers, keeping his voice at a low volume and pressing kisses to her hair between sentences.

She could eat, but she’s far too warm and content in her husband’s arms with their baby happily snoozing on top of them to consider disrupting this quite yet.

“Maybe in a little while.” She smiles up at him and pecks his jaw. “This is perfect.”

He sighs in agreement, arms ever so slightly tightening around her. It’s not a deliberate gesture, but the way he holds her and Mac floods her entire body with feelings of peace and safety - she knows he would never let anything happen to them.

They spend the better part of the morning just like this, all three of them happily watching the sun creep in through the curtains, listening to the faint sound of traffic merge with the home renovation shows playing on the television.

(Peralta family Saturday mornings will eventually become a well-oiled weekly routine, complete with Jake’s waffles and music and laughter, but Amy will always fondly remember the first one they shared with their little boy.)

[biscoopstroop]

A TRUTH AND A LIE ⁠— S. HARRINGTON X READER

summary: in a world where soulmates feel each other’s pain, (f/n) meets her soulmate after a slut-shaming incident and decides that if he was her soulmate she wanted nothing to do with him. although, after two years people do seem to change.

pairing: steve harrington x reader

writer: ashley

set: the monster (s1e6) and the mall rats (s3e2)

a/n: ok so this has light light light hopper!reader. so light that i didn’t even add it to the reader above because there are no scenes with them together. and i hope you guys like this! this is the first one i’ve posted onto this blog.

‘Starring Nancy ‘the Slut’ Wheeler’ was spray-painted bright red on the Hawk’s marquee when (F/N) strolled up, her hands balled into the pockets of her jacket and a delicate shade of pink snapped from the bubblegum she was chewing. Turning on her heel from the theater, she moved to the alley. The idiot continued to shake the evidence, the ball clinking against the metal can.

When (F/N) reached the alley, she found not just one asshole, but a whole gaggle of them as three of them stood and watched the fourth continue to vandalize the town. If (F/N) was in town more often, she would probably know each of them by name and an extensive reputation, but with her mom living in Indianapolis, she only spent weekends and holidays in Hawkins with her dad.

Now, she stood close to the group, but far enough that they hadn’t registered her standing there. They were taking their sweet time to notice her as she dragged one neatly manicured hand out of its blue jean pocket and checked the time on her watch.

The spray can stopped rounding out the ‘b’ in bitch, and the gaggle of assholes turned to stare at the girl who seemed to just appear. (F/N) raised one arched eyebrow at them, popped another bubble and returned her hand to her pocket. 

“Wanna tell me why you’re slut-shaming people?” (F/N) asked cooly, her words smooth like the October breeze, infesting their skin with goosebumps as she spoke. “Or have the fumes already gotten to your head?”

(F/N)’s words were slightly condescending, but her tone stayed crisp as she cocked her head to the side, waiting. It seemed that the fumes had gotten to them as they were slow to respond, and once they did, they all collectively turned to each other before one of them stepped up.

He had dark brown eyes and hair larger than life that didn’t move a strand from where he stood with his gaggle of assholes to squaring his shoulders in front of her. (F/N) couldn’t help but notice the one curl that dipped down perfectly and kissed his forehead. She wondered if it took a lot of effort to get that Superman curl just right.

“Am I supposed to know who you are?” the boy asked with a laugh, his cool facade radiating from him. A cool he wanted but was quickly broken when challenged by others. Especially with the queen of cool herself in his presence.

“No,” she assured him, furrowing her brow. “I’m just a local who would rather bust your chops then go see a movie. It’s not cool to be an asshole, lesson number one, Hairspray.”

Hairspray stared at (F/N) his hackles tense and his eyes turning from a collected annoyance to full-blown irritation by her.

(F/N) spat her gum out, her gaze leaving Hairspray’s without hesitation and she pulled a cigarette from her pocket. “I’m trying to quit,” she explained, lighting the bud and steadying her gaze back on him.

“This doesn’t concern you,” Hairspray told her, trying to make himself big and intimidating as he pushed her back slightly. 

“Oh!” the red-haired girl cooed. “Hey there, princess!”

(F/N) looked back to the thin girl storming her way towards them. Her fists were clenched, and her eyes were narrowed in an attempt to keep herself from crying as her eyes focused on Hairspray. 

“I’m gonna guess this concerns her,” (F/N) stated, whipping herself around to look back at Hairspray. “So, yes, this does concern me because people who are assholes being assholes need to shut up and listen for once,” she concluded with an unamused laugh.

Nancy Wheeler had her sights set on one thing, and one thing only, and that was Hairspray. (F/N) stepped out of her way as she pushed through like a bull and before any words were exchanged, Nancy had slapped him across the cheek. The teens on the sidelines crowed in amusement at Nancy’s sudden action. 

“What is wrong with you, Steve?” Nancy asked Hairspray.

(F/N) noticed the odd tingling in her cheek, the buzzing sensation keeping her back from allowing herself into the argument between the couple.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? I was worried about you,” Steve turned back on her, his tone condescending and seemed like he was trying too hard to be emotionless. “I can’t believe I was actually worried about you,” he laughed, trying to distance himself but something in the way he was doing it showed his heart on his sleeve.

“What are you talking about?” Nancy asked, her spine straightening out as she glared at Steve. 

(F/N) turned to the entrance as another boy walked in after Nancy, lanky and timid as he stood behind Nancy but didn’t say a word as the gaggle of assholes goaded the two of them. From the goading, (F/N) was able to get one side of the story, Steve’s story, as he had caught her with the timid boy in her bedroom while she was dating Steve.

Now, Steve slut-shaming Nancy without even talking to her was bullshit, and he should’ve known it. He even tried to pry out why Nancy had the timid boy in her room in the first place surrounded by his friends. She was silent, feeling their judgemental eyes on her and was silenced by them. 

“Come on, Nancy. Let’s just leave,” the timid boy told her, taking her arm and tried to lead her out of the alley before tempers flared and stupid mistakes haunted them for years to come.

Steve strutted after them bent the wrong way by the timid boy, or who he called Byers. He had the same last name of Joyce Byers, the one her father had told her had gone downhill since her youngest son went missing. (F/N) couldn’t blame her, but for her oldest son, it must’ve been hard with his brother going missing, his mother going a little bit insane and every asshole within Hawkins bullying him on these accounts. 

“Hey, Steve, stop it,” (F/N) told Steve sternly, pushing back on his chest as he had done to her earlier. He kept on moving though, pushing (F/N) backward with him, his eyes trained on Byers trying to spark a reaction out of him.

“You know what, Byers, I’m kind of impressed. I always took you for a queer—“

“Stop it, man,” (F/N) said again, able to push him two steps back but he was already pushing three steps forward. It was like all he could see was Jonathan and red as he picked and prodded at every sore wound the timid boy had.

“A screw up like your father. Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. I mean, there’s a ton of screw-ups in your family. Your mom. I’m not even surprised with what happened to your brother.”

“Steve!”

“I’m sorry I have to be the one to tell you this, but the Byers’ their entire family is a disgrace—“

She could feel it, the crack in her jaw without getting hit as Jonathan swung around her and hit Steve right in the cheek without a second thought. Steve was on one side of the alley while Jonathan backed himself over to the other side, his chest pumping with adrenaline.

(F/N) sat on the ground, holding her cheek as she watched the two fight through blurred vision. The fight gaining more intensity as the gaggle chanted excitedly and Nancy was trying to get Jonathan to stop without getting too close. (F/N) wanted to throw up as their shouting made her head split and her ears ring and the familiar sound of getting caught came from around the corner.

Callahan had tried to pull Jonathan off Steve before getting knocked in the face, then Powell was able to take him into custody. Steve and his cool guy gang sped off while Callahan hustled after them. Powell had Jonathan against one of the cars and had him handcuffed. Nancy stood off to the side of the alley where (F/N) rested her gaze as she watched Nancy panic.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Callahan said quickly as he squatted and got into (F/N)’s headspace, his big head and dorky mustache swimming into her view as he took his flashlight and flung it between dilating pupils. “You okay? Did you get hit?”

(F/N) shook her head slowly, lifting her hand to her face to feel the only wound she had gotten was a thin ribbon of blood streaming from her nose.

“No,” she muttered, even as she sat there on the ground with her head leaning against the brick of the Hawk, her legs sprawled out in front of her and a cigarette edging closer to falling off her lip, (F/N) still appeared cool. “I think I just met my soulmate, and he’s an asshole.”

⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ

It had been three years since Steve met (F/N). Between her hopping between Indianapolis and Hawkins, the two never spoke more than snarky remarks to the other. (F/N) had never told Steve what she had come to conclude from the mere belief that through Steve’s high school years, he didn’t deserve to have her as a soulmate. His cocky, pretentious, fake cool guy attitude was bullshit and (F/N) wasn’t about to have herself broken up over him.

Only the police station knew the truth, and frankly, they all agreed with her when she said she’d like to keep away from the asshole who felt that vandalizing property was a better way to deal with a relationship than talk it out. 

And then, Starcourt Mall opened, (F/N) had graduated and she was spending her summer in Hawkins with her dad since they hadn’t had a lot of time together lately. And the fact that he had adopted a girl with strange powers, but that was a story for another day.

El and (F/N) had become something close to sisters but not quite. They gave each other space and hadn’t quite started to grate each other’s nerves with their habits. Although El making out with Nancy Wheeler’s younger brother, Mike, did always rub her the wrong way. As it did her dad, especially when the door wasn’t propped open three inches. 

Jim Hopper had barged in on El, believing Mike was inside, but instead found Max Mayfield with her reading magazines and doing girly things together. He stuttered out an apology and made his way out of their room. (F/N) had entered the room after them, telling the girls that she’d take them to Starcourt the following day so that Max could show El around the new mall and maybe get some new clothes. 

The three stood in the mall the next day, (F/N) handing both girls a crisp dollar bill and let them go off on their own letting them know she would be waiting inside Scoops Ahoy. Crowds weren’t something (F/N) was a fan of so sitting in a cold ice cream shop by herself sounded like the best mall experience she could ask for. Plus, she had been to plenty of malls in Indianapolis with her old friends, and if you’ve been to one mall, you’ve been to them all.

(F/N) walked into Scoops with her thumbs rocked in her belt loops and a bright yellow tank top showed off the slight tan she had gotten from the summer sun. (F/N) looked to the counter before anything else and there at the counter stood an asshole. (F/N) almost turned around, but decided that with him pegged behind the counter it would allow her to torture him. 

(F/N) stepped up to the counter, leaning her side against the counter as she hit the bell repeatedly to call someone else to the front as Steve glared at her. 

“I’m right here,” Steve muttered, but she didn’t even make eye contact.

“I’m sorry, I don’t take orders from assholes or slut shamers or people who run away from the cops when their arrest is valid, (F/N) shrugged her shoulders, hoping someone would come out from the back rather than Steve Harrington.

(F/N) watched as Steve’s face turned red and she smirked at his stupid sailor’s uniform and couldn’t help but think of what a loser King Steve had turned into after graduation.

“Please stop, Robin’s not here to take your order,” Steve muttered, his shoulders hunched as he massaged his temple.

“Guess it’ll be a while,” (F/N) shrugged, tapping her hand on the bell still.

Steve looked like he was going to explode, his face red and stress sweat had started to pile on his forehead.

“Is Erica here?” a familiar face asked from behind the counter and into the backroom.��“Oh! (F/N), y-you’re in town?”

“Yeah, I’m spending the summer with my dad and... enjoying Hawkins,” she laughed awkwardly, turning back to look at the customers inside and then to the two behind the counter. She caught Steve’s eye that held a knowing gaze that she wasn’t planning on saying Hawkins but a little girl no one was to know about.

(F/N) shuddered at the look he was giving her but returned to Robin with a small smile, pushing out of her head the thoughts of ‘why would Steve Harrington know?’

“How have you been?” (F/N) asked with a small smile.

“I’ve been working here,” Robin laughed nervously, her hands on the blockers and her knuckles turning white out of anxiety.

“Hold on,” Steve interrupted the two, whipping his head to look over at Robin. “You know here?”

“Yes,” Robin nodded, slowly nodding her head to ensure he caught her words.

“Cool people know cool people, Hairspray,” (F/N) explained with a small, huffy laugh.

“I’m cool,” Steve defended, straightening his shoulders but waiting for them to validate his coolness.

“You’re an asshole,” (F/N) pointed out.

“I’ve grown past that,” Steve explained with a loud sigh.

“He has,” Robin agreed like she didn’t want to but had to.

“Thanks, Robin,” Steve muttered, dejected by the two women berating him. The hand on his shoulder caught his attention finding (F/N) at the end of it and there was a small hope that she’d reassure him in his expression that (F/N) found funny.

“You’ve become a loser,” (F/N) laughed. “But I could be friends with a loser.”

Steve smiled lightly at her words. At the same time, a little girl with colorful beads in her hair pushed past (F/N) knocking her hips into the counter that rattled a stinging pain through her. She hunched over, Steve following suit although the girl hadn’t knocked into him.

(F/N) kept her head down waiting for Steve’s reaction but nothing came. Slowly, (F/N) looked up from her huddled position and through the strands covering her face to catch Steve’s eyes warmed from the thought that she was his soulmate. Maybe it was because of the heartbreak he had gotten from Nancy Wheeler, or perhaps it was because she was just so goddamn cool all of the time, but he’d never thought for a second he’d meet his soulmate. Especially someone he e had met before.

(F/N) smiled like a teeter-totter, one side going up and the other falling down in an awkward ‘yeah, I’ve known all along’ and somehow Steve caught that from just a glance at her guilty face, because now he was pointing one of his sticky fingers in her face, shouting, “You knew!”

“Of course, I knew, dipshit!”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were an asshole! Why would I tell an asshole?”

“I’m not an asshole now.”

“No, you’re a loser now.”

“Would you go on a date with a loser?”

“Depends,” (F/N) said, a stupid smirk coming to her face. “On the loser.”

“I’ll pick you up tonight,” he winked, trying to lean on the counter but tripping over his two own feet and had to catch himself.

Behind her, she could feel the air shift, and there stood El and Max with shimmering eyes and shit-eating grins now with more fashionable choices of clothing. They stared at her, something lingering that felt like (F/N) had a sister again as the two sung, “Steve and (F/N) sitting in a tree!”

“Are you two children?” (F/N) asked, rolling her eyes at the two.

“K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

wanna request?

[watchmegetobsessed]

Crush // Shawn Mendes mini-series part 2

part 2 wohoooo!! this is honestly such a cute story i love writing it, im currently finishing the last part so i’ll probably update very soon!

part 1

masterlist

The awkwardness soon vanishes. This clear new chapter we just opened with Shawn allows me to loosen up and just enjoy a nice evening. Aaliyah and Eric seems satisfied with the outcome, the parents seem to hit it off quite easily and when we leave they already start making plans for another meetup.

“It was so nice meeting you!” Karen sighs happily as she hugs goodbye to all of us.

“You too, email me that recipe you told me about!” Mom points at her and she nods her head laughing.

I’m just about to step out of the house when Aaliyah grabs my wrist and pulls me back. I look at her with furrowed eyebrows.

“I need your help with a little something. Can you come over sometime tomorrow?” she whispers confidentially.

“Um, yeah. Around what time?” I ask.

“Three pm?”

“Sure,” I smile at her and she lets go of me.

On the way back home I’m thinking about what Aaliyah could need help with and the only thing I have in mind is Eric’s birthday that is on the 29th. She must be planning something special for him.

I call Maddi around midnight when I’m already in my pj’s, but I know she must be still up, maybe even drunk. For my surprise, she answers the phone quite modestly.

“How was the family union?” she asks chewing on something. I throw the cushions off of my bed and crawl under the blanket.

“Um, very interesting,” I chuckle closing my eyes and just shaking my head at the thought of the evening.

“Uh, spill the tea!” She cheers clearly very thirsty for some drama, though this story is not as juicy as she would want it.

“Guess who Aaliyah’s brother is!” I say, but I don’t expect an answer so I just continue. “Shawn Effing Mendes.”

“What?! Are you kidding me?” She gasps. “How did Eric forget to tell you this small detail?”

“Apparently, he thought it doesn’t matter to me, which is kind of true, but there is more.”

“What more? Did he hit on you? Because I’m not talking to you again if he did. He is hot!”

“No, he didn’t, but what you don’t know is that we have history.”

“Okay, now I’m confused!? How do I not know about this?”

“Well, remember my ex, Dylan? I told you about him.”

“Yeah, the asshole who cheated on you,” she hums.

“Well, Dylan and Shawn used to be best buds when we started dating, but the guy hated my guts, or so I thought. He was always mean to me, talking against me and just… avoiding me like the plague.”

“I thought he is the nicest person on earth.”

“He might be now, but when I knew him, he treated me like shit. So it was pretty awkward to see him again after all these years.”

“And how did it go? Was he an ass again?”

“No. He was… nice. Well, we both acted awkward in the beginning, I didn’t know if he would continue his act with me, but he turned out to be nice. And then at one point he told me he is sorry for everything in the past and he was just acting like that because he wanted to amuse Dylan.”

I turn to my side and stare out the window.

“That’s good, right? I mean, he grew out that mean phase and he is all good now.”

“Yeah, it’s just still weird to be around someone I knew from my Dylan phase.”

“But it’s Eric who is dating Aaliyah, why would you be constantly around him?”

“Aaliyah asked me to go over tomorrow, I think she is trying to put a surprise together for Eric’s birthday, so I’m spending the afternoon at the Mendes house.”

“Oh, then keep me updated about the details and sneak me a shirtless photo of Shawn please.”

“Maddi!” I scoff laughing. “Why would I even see him shirtless?”

“Maybe he likes wandering around in his home without clothes on, how would I know?!”

“Unbelievable. I’m going to sleep.”

“Bye bitch,” she sighs making me roll my eyes at her smiling.

“Bye.”

  I sleep late the next day, it’s past noon when I actually make it downstairs looking like a real human being. Eric and Dad are watching a documentary on WW II. while Mom is reading the newspaper at the dining table. I join her with a bowl of cereal.

“Do you have any plans for today?” She smiles at me over her narrow glasses as she turns a page. I lean closer hitting a confidential tone.

“I’m helping Aaliyah today, she asked me to go over around three.”

“Oh, birthday surprise for Eric?” she asks clearly excited.

“I think yeah.”

“Great. And you will probably see Shawn again.” Winking at me she puts the papers down.

“Why does that matter?” I ask with my mouth full. She caresses my cheek before standing up and walking over to the sink for some water.

“Isn’t he a nice young man? I think the two of you would look cute together.”

“Mom, you are literally talking about the biggest pop sensation, he is not really the kind of guy who just casually dates,” I say.

In my mind all these celebrities are living their wildest life. Even if I were interested in Shawn in any way, I’m pretty sure I couldn’t even get in the game, he must have thousands of girls waiting for him in line. We are not really on the same page.

“Oh, come on. You guys knew each other in high school, you have a past, that connection must mean something!”

“He was an ass to me!” I blurt it out making her eyebrows raise.

“He was? What did he do?”

“It’s nothing,” I roll my eyes, but Mom gives me a demanding look. “He just didn’t seem to like me no matter what I did, he was avoiding me most of the time when I was with Dylan and also made some pretty rude comments sometimes.”

“Maybe he was into you,” Mom shrugs and I almost choke on the milk.

I start coughing like I’m about to die and my eyes start watering when I’m finally able to breathe evenly again.

“No fucking way!”

“Charlie! Language!” She hisses at me, but there is a smile hiding in her eyes. “You know, young boys tend to do it. They are mean to the girls they like.”

“Mom, it wasn’t in kindergarten, it was ninth grade or something. I think he just really didn’t like me back then and I don’t blame him.” I was annoying, thinking back at it. But hey, all teens are annoying!

“You can never know,” she sighs.

 I totally ignore the theory Mom tried to make me believe, there is absolutely no chance of the nonsense she told me, and this is what I keep telling myself as I’m on my way to the Mendes house.

“Hey!” Aaliyah greets me with a wide smile. She is now wearing some more comfortable clothes than the last two times I saw her, the grey sweats and lose white shirt must be her home wear. “Come in! My parents are out at a friend’s place, and Shawn…” she starts, but just when she is about to finish he appears on the top of the stairs.

“Is here,” he chimes in. I look up and there he is, in a pair of checked pj pants and a black shirt. Looking at it, I think Aaliyah has his shirt on, it seems like the same size.

“Hi,” I smile at him.

“Come, let’s sit.” I follow Aaliyah into the living room and we sit down to the couch next to their Christmas tree. From the corner of my eyes I see Shawn going into the kitchen and for a moment I’m actually disappointed he is not coming with us.

“So. I want to surprise Eric with cooking for him, but I have no idea what. I tried to find out what’s his favorite, but he says it’s his favorite to everything!” she growls frustrated. I shake my head laughing.

“That’s typical.”

“Yeah. So do you have anything in mind?”

“Well, he really like tiramisu. He can eat tons of it, all the time. That’s good for dessert,” I offer. Aaliyah has her phone in her hands and she is typing everything I say down.

“Okay, got it.”

“Um, he likes gazpacho. He thinks it sounds fancy and you know, he likes everything with ketchup, so a soup that tastes like tomato was made for him.”

“Oh yeah, he pours so much ketchup into his sandwiches, it’s crazy,” she rolls her eyes jokingly. “Okay, so gazpacho. Anything else?”

“Um…” I try to think about the times we went to restaurants and Eric got really excited over the food. “Oh, we were once at a place and he ordered grilled mushrooms and he couldn’t stop moaning, it was very embarrassing, but I guess this meant he really liked it.”

“Grilled mushrooms, perfect,” she nods to herself noting everything down. “Do you mind helping me pick out his gift too? I have a few ideas, I want to go into the city and buy it tomorrow, I already looked up some jumpers online, but I can’t really decide.”

“Sure, show me!”

We spend the next thirty minutes scrolling through everything she had saved as a possible gift. She found some really nice ones, her taste is fantastic. As the time is passing I’m starting to feel like I’m with a friend and not with my brother’s girlfriend and I’m just hoping Eric will keep her around for a long time.

She asks me to stay a little bit longer so she can show me the awkward photos she has taken of Erik since they’ve been dating, but she gets a call and excuses herself quickly. I stay there in the living room, looking around a bit, I haven’t really had the chance yesterday, I was too occupied with the situation.

Shawn walks in, this time he has a headband on, keeping his locks back from his face.

Damn, Maddi is right. He is hot.

I shake my head at the thoughts and try to look as casual as possible.

“How is the birthday planning going?” he asks plopping down on the couch next to me.

“Good, Aaliyah basically had everything right, I just had to choose the best options.”

“How crazy is that our younger siblings are dating? I mean, I was thinking about it yesterday, the last time I saw Eric, he was about twelve or something. No wonder why I didn’t recognize him when I met him,” he chuckles and I nod agreeing. Aaliyah changed a lot in the past years too.

“Yeah. Strange that they are not babies anymore. I mean, I’m still mad that Eric is taller than me.”

“Oh I remember how you always wanted to get taller!”

“You remember?” I ask surprised. I used to never stop talking about my height, later I accepted my fate.

“Yeah, I remember once you told Dylan how you want to wear the highest heels to the dance so you two can be the same height.”

I laugh at the memory. I remember it too, it was quite early in our relationship and Dylan asked me out for the Halloween dance. I wanted to look taller and told Dylan I would wear heels. Of course, I ditched the plan as I found out how uncomfortable they are and ended up wearing my Converse.

“And at the end I looked like a punk princess with my Converse and mini skirt,” I scoff at the thought of my outfit for that night.

“I think you looked pretty,” Shawn says and I look at him. I catch his small smile before he shakes his head clearing his throat. What the Hell? “High school feels so far away, right?” he quickly says.

“Um, well for you I guess, for me… not really,” I chuckle shaking my head. “Your life got turned upside down, but not much has happened to me since then.”

“What? I don’t believe you. I’m sure you’ve been having plenty of fun. Parties, dates and everything.”

I can’t help, a sad smile plasters across my face. He can’t be more wrong.

“Not really… I had some rough years after Dylan and I split.”

“Can I ask what happened? I mean, after the split,” he shyly asks.

“Well, since I was a dumb naïve little girl, I needed an entire year before I could even think about getting to know other guys. Now it all just seems like the biggest bullshit. I shouldn’t have cared that much. And I’m not a fan of partying, I only go out on birthdays and maybe New Year’s Eve,” I shrug. Maddi has been trying to boost me up a bit, she attempts to drag me out every month or so, but I’m really not that kind of type. I thought I was, when I was with Dylan, he was a popular guy, I kept going to these lame parties with him in the last year of our relationship, but I never really enjoyed them. Shawn was long gone by then.

“I’m sorry Dylan played you so bad.”

“It’s fine, I mean, not your fault,” I chuckle. “But what happened to you and him?”

He sighs scratching the back of his neck.

“Not sure, I guess we grew apart and I realized that he is an ass. When I became a private student we kept in touch, but I met new people and I saw how different a friendship can be, so… I cut him off, I guess.”

“Did you guys fight?”

“Not really,” he shakes his head. “Well, we had one last very awkward phone call when I was in Atlanta, if I remember right. It was forced and… just awkward, really,” he chuckles shaking his head.

“And your life has been better since Dylan is out of it, right?” I grin at him.

“Yeah, you must know about it.”

I laugh nodding. I know everything about it!

Before I could even think about what I’m saying, my mouth just opens and the words roll down.

“The only good thing I got from my relationship with Dylan is that I know you now.”

My eyes widen and I wish I could take it back.

“I- uh I mean…”

I don’t even know why I’m so nervous suddenly, I didn’t even tell much. But for some reason, I can feel myself blushing.

“I meant that he basically ruined my senior year and I needed so much time to get myself over him, but at least now we can talk like, normal people,” I quickly add somehow saving the situation.

“What do you mean he ruined your senior year?” he asks with furrowed eyebrows and I’m happy he didn’t get caught up on what I said before that.

“Well, he successfully made me push all my friends away, leaving me totally alone when we broke up.”

“Wait, what? How about that friend of yours, um… I don’t remember her name, you always sat together at lunch.”

“Rochelle. Oh Dylan played us dirty. He told me Rochelle keeps hitting on him and being my dumb naïve self I believed him and not her. We had this huge fight and I called her a bitch. No wonder why she didn’t care about me when I was alone in the last couple of months of senior year.”

“Ouch, that sounds horrible. I’m sorry he did that.”

“Why did we even like Dylan in the first place?” I ask laughing to myself. It still bothers me how blind I was, I wish I could just shake myself.

“I have no idea!” He sighs rolling his eyes. “I’m sorry your senior year got fucked up, I wish I could be there to have lunch with you.”

I turn to him and swear to God he is blushing! And it is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. I feel the urge to touch him, anywhere, to take his hand in mine, but I stop myself.

“That’s… nice. Thank you,” I whisper touched.

As I’m staring at him I realize this is probably the closest I’ve ever been to him. I wonder how many girls want to be in my position, they see the popstar, the heartthrob from the stage, while all I see is the guy who used to be mean to me in high school but now we are friendlier than ever. I could never see him as a celebrity.

“Okay, so I found some- Oh am I bothering?” Aaliyah walks into the room with her phone in her hands and she is giving me a knowing look. I quickly clear my throat turning away from Shawn.

“No, you girls just… do your thing. I have to make a few calls.”

Shawn jumps up from the couch patting his sister’s shoulder before walking out of the room. Aaliyah takes his place, still grinning.

“What?” I ask her playing dumb.

“You guys… I felt the sparkle,” she says wiggling her eyebrows.

“What sparkle? Aaliyah, you see everything in pink because of my brother.”

“Oh stop, don’t tell me you don’t like him.”

“I don’t know him,” I say truthfully. “The last time I saw him I was dating a douche and he was also being a douche to me. I can’t tell if I like him, because I don’t know his new self.”

“But you seem to get along with him pretty well and I’m sure you are attracted to him.”

“I’m not talking about this with you, you are his sister!” I gasp feeling myself blushing again.

“Whatever. But I think you two would look cute together.”

I refuse to carry on with the conversation about me and Shawn and Aaliyah fortunately doesn’t force it on me. I leave the Mendes house around five, Aaliyah thanks me the help and I can’t help but feel disappointed I don’t see Shawn anywhere when I’m leaving. Aaliyah’s speech about me and Shawn is slowly getting to me.

By dinner, all my thoughts are racing around him and soon I find myself stalking his social media profiles. I knew he is very famous, but seeing the numbers on his pages makes me gasp. Millions of people are following him, waiting for him to post anything. The last photo he uploaded to his Instagram is with his family, Karen and Manny are smiling proudly into the camera while Shawn and Aaliyah are messing around next to them. Before I could realize what I’m doing I double tap the picture liking it.

“Oh shit,” I suck my breath in. I hesitate, but then I realize how dumb this is. He must be getting millions of notes every minute, he won’t see this.

Gaining some confidence from this, I decide to follow him and continue my stalking session. I’m a few months deep into his profile when I get a notification. Opening the tab my eyes widen.

shawnmendes followed charlieprkr

I guess I was wrong about the notification getting lost. A moment later I see that he has liked two of my photos.

One was taken on a family vacation. Eric and I are posing at the beach, I have a red swimsuit on and the wind is blowing my wavy blonde hair that was so much lighter back than from all the sunshine. The other one is a picture Maddie took of me last month. I’m sitting in our armchair with a mug of tea in my hands, smiling shyly at the camera. We had Christmas lights in the window and the lights made me look colorful in the photo.

I’m just about to put the phone down and go to bed when I get a dm. I’m not surprised to see Shawn’s username, but I definitely get excited.

shawnmendes I’m happy I’m not the first one to accidentally like your photo, though I was minutes away from that haha

I smile at the message rolling my eyes.

charlieprkr Ha. Ha. I was hoping I can easily hide in the millions of your followers.

shawnmendes You could have, if only I weren’t stalking your profile as well. Fate?

charlieprkr I guess.

My fingers linger across the keyboard, trying to think of something else to write and keep the conversation up, but nothing comes to my mind. I almost give up when I get another message from him.

shawnmendes I’m in a nostalgic mood, I want to have a walk in the neighborhood, around our school tomorrow. Would you like to join me?

My smile grows wider than ever reading his lines.

charlieprkr Totally.

shawnmendes Great! Sometime around 4 pm?

charlieprkr Perfect. Where?

shawnmendes I’ll meet you at your house and we’ll go from there.

charlieprkr Then see you tomorrow!

shawnmendes Yeah, good night Charlie.

[tenyatrash]

Day 2: A House on Fire

This is my entry for Day 2 of the BNHA Noir Week 2019. Tumblr hates my ao3 links so let’s try this instead. @bnha-noir-week Heist, Fatale, Detective

In which Fuyumi and Touya take back control of the narrative. This one didn't exactly meet the prompt as much as I would like, but it's as close as I could get and I like it too much to orphan it, so here's some noir-lite. Come for the twins pulling off a heist, stay for the fatale/detective pair up. 

Ships: BG Fuyumi Todoroki/Ryuko Tatsuma

Characters: Fuyumi, Touya, and Enji Todoroki + Ryuko Tatsuma

Rating: Teen (Some lang, references to past abuse)

Word Count: 2925

It was a hot one, a scorcher of a day that’s left a memory of fire radiating off the pavement even now, hours after the sun disappeared. Slithering heat and muggy night air swirl into a heavy fog that tries to paint the city white and pure, but it fails. Nothing can hide these sins.

This world vibrates with a sickness that skitters just below the surface, coating everything in bitter bile, destroying everyone, one way or another. Some are destroyed by simple violence, quick knives in the dark. They’re the lucky ones, if anyone can be called lucky here. Everyone else? They sit and stew as the corruption eats away at them like rust.

There’s a pair of prowlers on the town tonight, eyes and hearts hardened to cut out a spreading cancer. It’s a night of reckoning for a family name that shoulda been put down long ago.

Pine needles crunch underfoot, sap oozing into the dirt path that marks the road to so many memories, all of them as dark as the oppressive and moonless night. Fuyumi pushes back her bangs and picks her way across the garden that she was never allowed to enjoy, to the house of the Father she was never allowed to escape. She’d smile in bitter triumph, if she remembered how.

There’s a hand at her back now, burning too hot, fingers tapping a steady beat against her spine.

“Pick up the pace, will ya? Pops ain’t gonna be away forever, and yous the one who said no violence.”

Fuyumi looks over to her twin. He’s a scary looking one, alright. The kinda mug folks on the up-and-up cross the street to avoid, the kinda heel soft chippies would gossip ‘bout, bed, and then hide like some kinda dirty secret. Meanwhile, the same skirts are always falling over themselves after the sonofabitch that did it. Just more proof that this world is rotten.

They’ve all got scars of Enji’s ambition, his are just on the outside, is all. Enji got smarter after that, or maybe Touya was just the bravest of them. Either way, dear ol’ Dad learned to keep his abuse strictly need-to-know after that. Learned to hurt, to control, to destroy, all without leaving a mark. Not that anyone would bother to investigate anyway.

Not when every two-bit political wannabe and too-blind copper saw him as some kinda hero.

Fuyumi slides the door open. Just like Pops to not check after his own home security. To assume no one would challenge him, least o’ all here in his pretty little estate. It’s the same arrogance that bred them, after all. Lord, they’re going to enjoy watching the place light up, all pretty blue flames and falling ash.

Touya is eager to start, fingers already caressing awards and photos, skin shivering as they smoke and char. It’s all a lie and God does it feel good to let it burn. A happy family, a heroic life-- filthy deceit that mocks them with every pose and word of commendation. He’s a hero, huh? That what you think, Mr. Mayor, Sir? Then why don’t you try living with him.

Try being a child under that roof.

The two twins slide through the house like shadows, feet still remembering all the steps, remembering which boards creak and which doors groan. They had to learn early, how to hide. How to be silent and unseen. All that training, all that pain, and for what?

To make them big goddamn heroes?

Nah. Turns out, he’d been training them for this heist their whole lives. He mighta been able to catch ‘em, to stop ‘em, to contain ‘em...if he’d cared enough to notice, that is. As it is though, he’s just going to have to say goodbye to all this shiny scratch and all the dreams he had for this name.

Touya’s got his predisposition for fire, and Fuyumi’s got matches, accelerant, and a dream.

First stop is the study. It’s all mahogany slabs and stiff stools, designed so everyone but the kingpin himself can experience stress and smallness and pain. What kinda way is that to do business, much less raise kids? What kinda notes do you give your interior designer when building a room like that? ‘See pal, I wanna room that screams gangster, but you know, classy and legit and all. Wanna keep everyone on their toes.”

Sheesh. They could make a fortune on the book rights alone, if this was any kinda just world. As it is though, Fuyumi knows they’d get buried by law hounds and dirty money the second they so much as pitched the idea. Reputation and respect are the only currency Enji trades in, and if you threaten that, he comes down on you like the fires of hell.

Just ask Touya. Or Ma.

They fiddle with the safe, bad memories making ‘em antsy to get this job done and dusted. Neither knows the code. Not like Enji would trust ‘em with it. After all, they were barely worthy of taking his name, much less accessing his secrets. Lady Luck loves making a fool outta a fella though, and it’s not long before the too-weak twins have their hands on secrets Pops would have done anything to hide.

Fool set the combination as the date his poor “masterpiece” Shouto started manifesting his gifts to the world. It was the third set of numbers they tried. Once this place was ash and his legacy was crushed, Fuyumi hoped she’d have the chance to lean in, real close, and let him know just how his empire came crumbling down.

Let him know that it all came down to his own damn failing. His played-out narcissism and twisted family pride.

They sort through documents and trinkets. It’s all here. Sheathes of paper on the special training they all had to endure, notes from doctors that expressed concern, before blood money overwhelmed their morals, even a dowry arrangement that looks damn sure like a bill of sale.

Touya is more than a little amazed. It’s like Christmas, but happy for once. “What kind of no-good scoundrel does shit like this, then keeps records?”

Fuyumi frowns down at the papers in her hands. She should be pleased. It’s what they’ve been after this whole time, right? But all these names...she wasn’t prepared for that. She might be playing at being a hood tonight, but she’s lived her life more or less on the right side of the law, more or less with faith in people.

And now there’s this. A whole damned mountain of names, of people who knew something sick and twisted was brewing in this house, and who did absolutely nothing to stop it. Hell, even Ma’s parents were in on it, selling her off like a broodmare. Something twists in her gut and all the sudden, she thinks she understands why Touya comes home sometimes, smelling like gunpowder and copper blood.

He sees red, but she feels ice. Ice creeping up her veins and into her heart, that small and abused thing that beats with love, that never seems to learn better. Never protects itself. They all knew. They all knew and they did nothing. Long as the image stayed shiny like the coins that passed hands, they were happy to send them all to the slaughter.

At some point, Touya starts rubbing circles across her palms, gently prying away the documents from her death grip. He helps bring her back to reality, to the job they’ve got to do. She’s not a helpless little girl anymore, and he’s not a throwaway kid. Damn but it’s chilly in here.

There’s no way to heal a festering wound like this one, but at least they can get even. Can show the whole world exactly what they’ve been complicit in. And Fuyumi’s not just interested in taking down Enji. No, she wants them all. Every single patsy and punk who let themselves be bought.

It all clicks in place. That’s why he kept the evidence. Insurance. Pops was never going to go down alone. No, if he got caught, he’d take the whole damn place with him. Fuyumi has no problem making that last request come true.

She wants them to burn too.

They move on, mirror images splitting in two to check the rest of the house. It’s just as impersonal as they remember, with more shadows than furniture and more blood than memories. When he squints into the cloaking night, Touya can swear he can still see the scorch marks from his last training session out in the yard.

Fuyumi touches his arm. They start the fire in two places. Touya begins in the dojo, letting steam and tears lift off his body like all those unanswered prayers, body convulsing as he watches the sparring mats and training dummies that engulfed his childhood be engulfed by flames. Fuyumi begins in Enji’s bedroom, getting drunk on the smell of gasoline as she douses the bed and lets the barren room be swallowed up.

She does it for Mother, who laid on that bed until her body and mind were broken by a man she never loved. She does it for Touya, who destroyed his body and fractured his mind trying to meet standards that he could never reach. She does it for Natsuo, who was called worthless from the start. She does it for Shouto, the masterpiece who never asked for any of this, who spent so long in a gilded cage that he forgot how to feel. And most of all, she does it for herself.

For the girl who did the best she could, who was never enough. Who wasted years trying to tiptoe around a dragon, who blamed herself every time the world descended into flames. For the woman she is, and the woman she could have been.

She spends an eternity looking into the licking flames before Touya, who has more experience in these kinds of things, pulls her out of the room and out of the shuttered home. They leave the lot, no glance spared back until they reach a high hill a few blocks away, at a distance Touya declares safe.

They don’t sit. They stand and they stare and they watch the harsh beauty of orange and blue flames dancing across the collapsing roof and black smoke rising above the murky white fog that still blanketed the lower-lying parts of the city.

They don’t feel the release they had hoped for, but they feel a type of validation, and that’s enough. At least for tonight, their once-home is just as ugly as hellish outside as inside. A four-alarm fire that can’t be ignored. No one gets to turn away. Not tonight.

---

It’s morning, when Ryuko finally makes it home from the clubhouse, just long enough to grab a shower and a bite to eat. Her shift had been held over last night. Whole damn city was losing its mind over that fire especially when some loose-lipped recruit let it slip that the whole thing was cut-and-dry arson.

Ryuko shakes her head and steps into the shower, rivulets of water washing her skin clean but doing nothing to unlock the dark swirls of smoke that clung to her hair and pores. She shudders at the memory of Old Man Todoroki himself, all claws and fire and vitriol as he pushed through the wreckage of his ancestral home. Man damn near started a whole new inferno when he opened the scorched safe and found it empty.

Detective Tatsuma had been sent over, boot-licking superiors and ashen-faced patrol boys offering her as a sacrifice to his anger.

“Come on, you’re shackled to his baby girl. Makes sense you’d be the one to interview him-”

Ryuko had resisted the urge to fill them in on just how much Enji and Fuyumi would hate that characterization, but had trooped forward anyway, too tired to fight for rationality. It’s a losing battle anyway, and it ends up not mattering, at all.

Enji claims the safe was always empty. Nothing is missing. He’s lying like a cheap suit. It doesn’t matter. His word is law, after all.

Ryuko closes her notebook, nods her head, and feigns deference as the hero stomps off, no doubt eager to take out his rage on whatever poor chump is planning on breaking the law today. Once her towering Father-in-Law leaves, she peeks into the safe herself.

It’s bare, that true, but not totally empty. Sitting in the middle of safe like some kinda proposal is a single metal staple. Looks surgical. Ryuko takes note of it before slamming the door shut.

If Enji doesn’t care about who robbed and ravaged him, why should she? Sure, she’ll go through the motions, maybe even catch the doers. But she’s not going to kill herself. Not on a case like this, a one without a real victim.

The shower ends. The house still reeks like smoke and something squirms against the back of her mind as she steps into their bedroom and leans down to press a kiss into Fuyumi’s tousled hair.

Lord love her, but she looks like death warmed over. Ryuko feels a stab of regret. That was Fuyumi’s home, and Ryuko hadn’t been there to deal with whatever emotions hearing about it burn must have elicited. Fuyumi’s never been that forthcoming about her family, and Ryuko has never pressed. Didn’t want to seem like a fame groupie. But surely, there’d been memories there, tokens that Fuyumi might have wanted to take with her. And now some nameless, faceless thug had ripped that away from her.

She’ll make it up to her. She’ll find the arsonist, maybe even find answers. It’s the least she can do.

---

Out in the boonies, Touya’s got one last bit of trash to take out, one last crusade before he can maybe put all this filth behind him. He knew Endeavour would take the bait. Had to, with all he had to lose. He wouldn’t drag Fuyumi into this darkness. Sure, she was mad. And she has just as much right as he. But he’s already lost, his soul already in tatters. He doesn’t mind adding another mark to his debts.

He hears Pops before he sees him, skin simmering and crackling like a bull under a sweltering sun. His ears got trained a long time ago, to recognize that sound and flee from it, but he’s not a kid anymore. Whatever innocence he had was burned to nothing on the floor of that house, under the heel of his no-good progenitor. He stands tall yet disrespectful, scarred hands jammed into soot-stained jeans, a smirk chasing away the tiredness and fear of his eyes.

“Yo, Endeavor. Long time no see.”

There’s a roar. Charming.

The man who was once Touya laughs darkly as hands close around his throat. Well, this isn’t exactly how he saw this going, but he’s nothing if not adaptable.

“You sure that’s your move, Sir?”

Enji realizes there’s no loot bag. No scraps or scrips. He releases the boy who was once his son.

“What’s your game, boy?”

Dabi smiles all lazy and languid. What is his game? Ha, it’s hard to even remember. Oh, right. He’s at a crossroads now.

He could kill the man. Fuyumi would forgive him, and maybe he’d finally be free. His mind flickers forward, already seeing the State Funeral and hearing the cloying speeches of sycophants and snakes. His jaw tenses, metal scraping and clinking with every roll of his neck. Nah, he don’t wanna see that, not at all. A sight like that, no telling what it would do to a man. Nasty things, probably.

He feels his sanity start to slip, just a bit, like a pickpocket's just rifled through his head. He needs to get clear of this, and as good as it would feel to smother those flames once and for all, he can’t let him die a hero.

There’s some things that are just beyond bearing.

That leaves him with his second option. A more….poetic type thing. An execution of public sentiment, if not of the man himself. He ruffles a hand through sooty hair and smiles and Enji glowers at him.

“My game? Gee, I guess...I just wanna rob the house. Prove it can’t always win.”

“Talk sense, or don’t talk at all.”

Touya flicks a spent cigarette into a grimy barrel, still slick with the oil that powers this city, that keeps all these poor bastards rolling to and fro, as if anything really matters. As if they’re good people. As if they’re in control. He hops up on to a railing and starts to teeter before giving a false salute and dropping down to the street below.

“You’ll see.”

Enji stares at the spot for a long time, not sure if he’s more concerned or calmed by the lack of body. He doesn’t trust Touya, how could he? But a body is a hard thing to explain. It’s one thing to have a son who ran away, maybe to Europe, maybe to love. It’s another thing entirely for the corpse of a known hardened triggerman to fall at your steps. To look so much like you.

Enji’s still staring when the newspaper inquiries start to come.

They want to know about the fire, and the safe, and the strange articles and evidence that are hitting papers and precincts all over the city.

He grinds the phone into dust.

[catlady1986]

THE BEST SMELL IN THE WORLD IS THAT OF THE ONE YOU LOVE.

Chapters: 8/9 Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/? Characters: Gladiolus Amicitia,  Noctis Lucis Caelum, Prompto Argentum, Ignis Scientia, background characters, others to appear later Additional Tags: ABO, Soulmates, Language, Blood, Depression, Angst, Referenced Masturbation, Deviant Behavior, Blood    

Previous Next

The big day had finally arrived and the entire city was bursting with life from the celebrations going on. Thankfully everything was going off without a hitch and everyone was having fun. Especially the birthday boy himself and Gladio can’t help but smile at his happy prince being a goof with Prompto, gorging himself on the food Ignis brings over, and dragging the king to dance with him despite the elder not knowing how to do the moves properly. It was great.

But that wouldn’t last for long.

Noct had just finished eating his second helping of cake and was slumped down in his chair, a hand rested upon his stomach in contentment and a huge smile on his face. Gladio snorts and shakes his head, getting a cheeky grin from the newly turned eighteen-year-old.

“Leave me be, it’s my birthday, I can eat all I want.”

“Until you put on a few pounds and can’t fit into your jeans then you’ll complain and blame me for not stopping you.”

“Nah, I’ll just wear sweatpants.”

“Or you can come jog with me early in the morning.”

“Eww no, you get up before seven and that’s inhuman.” Noctis complains and tries sitting up but finds it difficult. He lets out a sigh and tries again yet still can't get up, so he just smiles with his hands out. “Help your prince up, Gladio.”

“Jeez, bossy.” Gladio snorts but does as asked. “Is this what I’m going to have to deal with once you marry and become pregnant?”

Noct turns red and huffs at the older man, but then regains his grin. "Yeah, that’s right. You can rub my feet and bring me food in the middle of the night too.”

“Hell no, that’ll be your spouse’s job.”

There’s a momentary fall in Noct’s smile and Gladio too feels a slight twinge in his chest but he pushes it away as the smile returns. Noctis takes hold of Gladio’s hand once again and gives him a tug towards the dance floor.

“Let’s go dance for a while, burn off some calories.”

“So you can eat more cake?”

“Jerk.”

The two teens step out onto the floor where others are already dancing, a slow song currently playing so Gladio has Noctis take the lead and the two sway together to the melody. Amber eyes peer down into deep blue ones, them seemingly shimmering from the lights radiating from the chandeliers. A strange heat builds in the young shield’s chest and cheeks, his heart thumps in his chest, and he feels like he’s floating on water. Noct smiles tenderly at him, the prince’s own cheeks turning a shade of red as he presses his small frame closer to Gladio’s.

“Hey.” Noct begins, a smile still on his face and eyes half lidding.

“Hey what?”

“I’ve been sniffed by everyone here who hadn’t tried before and not a single one showed any interest outside of the normal creepers who are only interested because I'm a prince.”

“Could be the hanky.”

Noctis shakes his head. “My dad made me remove it when we came to the banquet hall and wash my neck, said that there were more than enough guards to keep me safe and I should start searching for my soulmate. But none of them are.”

“Hmm, you might not have met them yet.” Gladio says and frowns as a slight tightness forms in his stomach.

“Could be.” The teen snuggles closer and rests his head against the larger man’s broad chest. “Or maybe I did and they just can’t tell.”

“Huh?” Gladio stares down in question at the teen who looks up with a smile and the older man feels a strange tingling sensation in his gut.

But then a wince and soft gasp from Noct halts everything.

“Hey, you okay?”

“I-I think s-ngh. Ow, ow.” Noctis cringes and clutches his stomach, trembling slightly and taking deep breaths to try calming himself. It seems to work. “Stomach cramped up.”

“You wanna go sit and rest?”

“Yeah.”

Gladio escorts the prince back over to his seat and calls over a waiter for some water.

“You want me to get the king or someone?”

“N-no. I’m fine.”

“Noctis?” a concerned voice calls out. “Are you unwell?”

Gladio turns to see Ignis looking with great concern at the young prince, yet they turn to irritation when his green eyes shift to Gladio.

“Stomach just started to hurt, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.”

Ignis furrows his brows. “You’re pasty and sweating, that is something to worry about.” he tuts and budges past Gladio to place a hand against Noct’s forehead. “You’re burning up. We should inform your father and call it a night. Don’t want to stress your body out any further.”    

“It's fine, the party ends in an hour, I can manage. Plus it wouldn't look good for the prince to leave his own party, would it?”

“I suppose but if you are truly not feeling well then-” Ignis stops talking and becomes tense.

Prompto bounds over gleefully, snapping a couple of photos of the three before looking with concern at his friend.

"Are you okay buddy? You look sick."

"Just my stomach, no big deal."

"Huh, maybe the seafood got to you. You were packing that away earlier."

"Hmm, maybe." Noct says and winces while holding his stomach. "I'm gonna head to the bathroom, maybe a good throw up will do the trick."

"Please don't make yourself purge, that's not good for your esophagus." Ignis says and rests his hands on the teen's shoulders.

"It's fine." Noct shucks off the other man's hands and stands.

"I'll come with you in case you feel worse and need help."

"It's fine I said. Just relax and go dance with someone, like maybe Prompto."

Ignis goes rigid as the young blonde turns a deep red and looks to him with a soft smile. Gladio can't help but smirk at this.

"I-I am really not in the mood too right now. I should probably go check the food for spoilage though, just in case that is what's bothering your stomach."

Noctis lets out a sigh as Ignis quickly excuses himself, then slowly stands from his seat. "I'll be right back."

"Okay, enjoy your puke." Prompto teases and gets a soft punch to his arm.

The blonde's smile slowly fades as he turns to scan the crowd before landing on Ignis, the man watching intently as the caterers check the food.

"Hey," Gladio begins and snickers as Prompto jumps suddenly. "why don't we go for a quick dance while we wait for Noct? Who knows, maybe Iggy will be in the mood after watching us shred it up."

"Oh, yeah that sounds great." he agrees and follows Gladio. "So umm, Gladio, Noct was telling me you've been doing research about cues and stuff for soulmates?"

"Yeah." Gladio knows where this is going and sadly the answer he has isn't what the teen probably wants to hear. "Is this about you and Ignis?"

Prompto perks up at this, a red tint shining on his freckled cheeks. "Uh huh. I just, I know I felt something when he hugged and sniffed me that time. And ever since, I can't get him out of my head. But he avoids me. I didn't know if you by chance noticed anything?"

Gladio frowns. He has but Ignis has refuted it vehemently despite all the signs. Should he say yes or will that just cause more trouble?

"I umm, don't-"

Prompto sighs and frowns. "Is it because I'm a Beta? Alpha and Beta couples are seen as undesirable, even more than two Alphas. Maybe I'm just not good enough."

This incenses Gladio, feeling deeply sorry for the teen. "If that's true then he's missing out. Noctis gushes over how cool you are and what a blast it is to hang out with you."

"He probably wouldn't if I didn't let him win at our games sometimes." the blonde chuckles.

"Yeah he can be a sore loser at times, but he gets over it."

"He talks about you a lot too when we hang out."

Gladio's heart thumps rapidly in his chest at hearing this. "Oh? Probably complaining what a hardass I am with his training."

"Sometimes, though he does talk about your situation and how unfair it is, that you're a great guy and stuff. He likes you a lot."

"Well I'd hope so, I am his shield and we'll be spending most of our time together, even more once he becomes king."

Prompto snorts and shakes his head. "Hey, I'm gonna let you in on something, but don't tell Noct I told you. Okay?"

"Uh, okay?"

"Noct thinks that you and him are- Huh?"

Gladio follows the blonde's gaze over, seeing Noctis rush from the bathroom in a frenzy, his eyes wet and red.

"Noct wha-"

"I want to go home." he whimpers out, body trembling and a look of pain etched onto his face.

"What?" Gladio catches the teen as he begins to collapse with a soft cry, holding him protectively close as people begin to take notice. "I'm not taking you home, you need to go to the hospital." he says and looks to Cor as the man rushes over. "Marshal, we need an ambulance."

"Easy now." Cor says with calmness yet his eyes give away his concern. "Wha-" He stops, nostrils flaring momentarily and face falls to horror. "I smell blood. Start escorting the guests out and get the medical staff, now!"

Noctis lets out a sharp cry and clutches onto Gladio tightly, his hold body quakes as he shifts his legs around, blood smearing across the marble floor. Terror fills the young shield along with guilt, feeling he had failed in keeping his prince safe. But who could have hurt him? He only went to the bathroom and there was someone stationed in there. Or was it something else?

The king and his shield rush over, Regis' face looking horrified at his son's pain as he drops to the floor and takes him from Gladio, cradling his boy in his arms.

"Shh, my son. I have you."

"Dad, it hurts."

Monica rushes over and begins to asses the prince with Ignis right behind her, the young man looking harried while wringing his hands together tightly.

"Majesty, I believe it'd be wiser to forgo the ambulance and have the prince driven to the hospital asap." she says, trying to remain calm despite the cries coming from Noctis after she touched his swollen abdomen during her quick exam for wounds. "His malady is internal and we shouldn't delay getting him medical attention."

"I, I'll drive." Ignis offers with a panicked time n his voice.

"No, Cor will."

"Please, let me. I need to make sure he is all right and gets there safely. I won't leave him."

"Sciencia, this isn't the time or place to argue. Cor has driven under stressful situations before and we'll keep everyone informed as things unfold."

Noctis lets out a soft cry as he turns to the other man. "Take Prompto home for me, please. I don't want him to have to wa-lk." he says and cringes.

"Noct, please. I want to stay with you, I need to stay with you in your time of need. It’s my right as your-"

“Enough!” The king relinquishes his hold to his son back to Gladio, his face going deeply ridged. "Gladiolus. Please take Noctis to my car with Cor, I shall be there in a moment. Keep him safe and comfortable."

"Understood, your majesty." Gladio says and as carefully as he can, lifts Noctis and cradles him as he follows Cor and Monica out of the room, leaving only his father, the king, and Ignis.

As he moves away from the doorway, he hears something rarely ever heard, the angry tone of the king. Though he can't quite make out what is being said, he does hear one thing that makes him almost want to smile in spite, but he also feels sadness in his heart.

"We know who his soulmate is and it is not you. So cease this nonsense."

But how could it be? Was it something known from his birth and kept hidden? There was a rumor the crystal revealed things, so maybe that? Or was it a ploy to get Ignis to settle?

"Gladio."

The young shield snaps out of his thoughts and looks down at the paled teen in his arms. "We're almost at the car Noct, don't worry, you'll be okay."

"I told my dad, about everything."

Everything? What did that mean?

Gladio wouldn't get an answer just yet, them arriving at the car. He sets Noctis on the seat with Monica, the woman preparing a shot of pain medicine for him that she injects into his arm. The king and Clarus arrive not much later, Regis giving Gladio his thanks as he sits next to his son.

"Gladiolus," Clarus begins, resting his hand on his son's shoulder. "head on home and let your mother know what is going on, not Iris though. She was already upset she couldn't come to the party being sick, don't want to make her worried."

"Okay, please keep me posted when you can."

"I will."

Gladio watches as the car drives off, feeling a deep sinking in his gut and pain in his chest. Then to make things worse since it wasn't already, he has a bad sneezing fit the entire way home that makes him dizzy and almost fainted a few times. Sleep doesn't come to him either, too worried about Noctis to relax, even when his mother makes tea for him. Hours pass by without word on the teen's condition, Gladio getting more panicked as the time ticks away to the wee hours of the next day. Then the phone rings and Gladio feels his stomach turn as his father breaks the news.

[subfunctions]

i’ve been thinking about “modern” AUs with aloy and some of the npcs as the teen squad, and elisabet, gaia, the alphas, and some older npcs as the adult squad, but i realized that i’m just bored with normal settings no matter what.

so i wanted to spice it up with another AU, and then i thought.................. jurassic park. with robot dinos.

ted decides that he can make more money and some good pr by making a show out of his cool military robots and some “greener” designs that he allegedly stole from miriam tech. in an attempt to smooth over some lawsuits, he invites elisabet and gaia (human in this AU), their team, and their families/invitees of choice to the island amusement park for it’s pre-opening, as a kind of good faith gesture, while showing it off to investors and other business and scientist folk.

and of course...... life finds a way. even artificial life.

scattered thoughts:

let’s call the island....... osiris park, maybe. ostensibly for the reference to cycles and resurrection and the father of horus, but mostly for the irony.

i’m thinking that there would be some kind of renewed environmental efforts, maybe with some extreme environmental damage and climate change rearing its head again due to, you know, constant robotic warfare and corporate greed still going at it. and maybe FAS is taking the brunt of the blame for claw-back efforts of previous decades being undone.

so it’s elisabet and gaia putting their heads together for the same basic outcome (environmental restoration, except on a smaller scale), and that’s why a team from all over the world (alphas, betas, gammas) has been gathered under a project spearheaded by miriam tech.

but now miriam technologies and faro automated solutions are reluctantly working together, along with other corporations, governments, etc., for the purposes of renewed environmental efforts. hence why ted is trying to get back into elisabet’s good graces - dropping lawsuits, offering to settle on the stolen ideas thing - as she and gaia are the people making waves where green robotics are concerned. this would be a few years before when the faro plague would occur. insert timeline tweaking where necessary.

so the miriam robots are the GAIA machines we know and love (like grazers), and ted’s stolen designs, on the island, are modified versions of unused miriam ideas and are the HEPHAESTUS robots we know and love (like sawtooths). a specific line of war machines, the chariot robots, are being showcased for the first time on the island as well.

the alphas would serve the same basic functions, with some tweaks, and their individual divisions would have the same names (HEPHAESTUS, etc.). for clarification: patrick is there for the purposes of preserving endangered species (plant and animal) until certain habitats are restored. samina works with the team as chief cultural consultant, since there’s a lot of cross-national work going on, and the APOLLO division is in charge of navigating that web and making sure that their efforts reflect cultural preservation and don’t step on toes. ayomide (the MINERVA alpha) is a retired military captain turned security programmer for the project. travis is there as another lead programmer, and the HADES division is dedicated to correcting errors in the project. and the rest are pretty self-explanatory.

there’s always a bunch of young people running around miriam, people’s kids/relatives/interns/etc., and the alphas have sort of taken them all under their respective wings.

so, family/friend stuff, and what kind of nerds everyone would be. it’s going to align with the first gen -> second gen alpha set-up i have in my fic because i’m attached to that now:

elisabet and gaia are roboticists/engineers and aloy’s moms, and maybe rost is elisabet’s adoptive brother or step-brother? and elisabet and gaia are super busy, of course, so rost often takes care of aloy, and aloy basically has a dad-uncle along with two moms. (and i’m gonna imitate a basic idea from the wonderful @project-another-dawn and say that rost is a caretaker/ranger for the now-closed yellowstone national park. also, teersa is aloy’s great-aunt through rost.)

in this, the second generation are all in their mid-to-late teens.

aloy takes after her moms in a variety of interests, but she doesn’t know what she wants to do with her life yet. she’s leaning towards engineering.

sona has known elisabet and gaia for a long time and is an engineer who originally did military work until she became disillusioned with it. she specializes in aerospace engineering, and she currently works for miriam under the AETHER division. varl and vala are aloy’s best friends. varl has an interest in genetics and hangs out with patrick a lot. vala is interested in climatology so she spends a lot of time with the AETHER alpha. (still haven’t thought of a name for him, guerrilla games please give me details). haven’t thought of a last name for sona’s family either, but i’ll get there.

they’re all invited to go with the sobeck fam, and varl and vala tag along. sona and rost don’t go, but they catch wind of what’s happening on the island and haul ass to get there later in the story.

ersa and erend are travis’s niece and nephew, and he often declares random days as ‘bring your niblings to work day,’ so they’ve become close friends with aloy and the other teens. he brings them on the island trip. i guess their last name could be tate too, so i don’t have to come up with a modern surname for them. both of them are interested in engineering. erend leans towards agricultural engineering, so he and naoto (last name watanabe, i’ve decided) get along well, and ersa is interested in hydraulics engineering, so she hangs out with the POSEIDON alpha a lot. (guerrilla games, please).

petra (the oldest of the second generation, in her early 20s) has a robotics internship with miriam and is very close with margo, her supervisor, who invites her to the island. haven’t thought of a last name for petra either, r.i.p.

ayomide is vanasha’s mom, and vanasha is fast following in her programming footsteps, so she ends up hanging around miriam with the other teens as well. vanasha okilo! a last name!

charles and tom are talanah’s adoptive dads after her father and brother died in an accident that may or may not have been FAS’s fault. (another lawsuit that ted wants to smooth over.) talanah shares charles’s interest in the natural world, though she leans more towards wanting to study zoology.

jiran is a military investor who works closely with FAS, and nasadi and itamen are avad’s step-mother and half-brother, while older brother kadaman died in a mysterious accident. (i don’t want jiran to be dead in this AU because i want him to get eaten by a machine at some point.) nasadi and samina are cousins, and samina has been mentoring avad, who has an interest in cultural preservation, so samina offers a standing invitation for them to visit miriam whenever. nasadi does so often to get the kids away from their father. (everyone loves itamen, especially vanasha.) no last name on the avad fam front yet, either.

sylens is there at the island’s pre-opening as a preeminent figure in his field; i’m thinking programming. but he’s maybe actually there for shady thievery reasons. he hates corporate science (tm) a lot because seeing pure science twisted to serve money really grinds his gears, so he’s lowkey enjoying watching the mess that FAS gets itself into on their robot dino island.

and the premise, of course, is that life finds a way, and the artificial life on the island goes bonkers while everyone tries desperately contain it to the island and shut it down before it spreads, while also trying to stay alive.

the general idea is that the machines evolved on their own because the complexity of their programming is almost indistinguishable from the complexity of natural life and starts mimicking it. like, it’s because their programming is highkey illegal to begin with (and i think something similar went down in canon, as in someone said fuck the turing act, as part of a plot to sell military bots to various entities and then seize control of them from their owners, and then, well.... Regret), but the machines going rogue is an unintentional side-effect and is simply life finding a way.

but there’s a subplot about security being tampered with, and the island being cut off from the rest of the world, and private black ops showing up, and it turns out that it’s the people who illegally programmed the machines to begin with (far zenith a.k.a. ted’s buddies) trying to cut their losses and cover their tracks the second they know it’s irreversibly gone to shit, because there are a bunch of geniuses on the island who are going to figure it all out real soon.

there absolutely has to be a scene where ted tries to be hip (tm) and in with the teens, and none of them are having it. it’s all [knife emojis] in the group chat.

i’m not going to do anything with this soon because i don’t have time and i have other things to write, but i’ve been thinking about it a lot, and i wanted to get all of this down.

this would also be my general set-up for any “modern” AU where everyone is a big nerd family. i’m not saying that someone should steal this whole thing, but.... i would love.... to read anything with said set-up.

[24jnxh]

Life Story #290

When I was still a toddler, grow to become a child, grow to become a teen, grow to become a youth, and now I’ve grow to become an adult, my life journey I can say is really a roller coaster ride that I’ve no idea how can I fight through it, and I’ve no idea how can I come so far, but I could say I’m really proud of myself for going through so much and yet now I’m returning to the community of society. When I was a child, when I was 9 years old, I’ve faced the first death of my family that is so close to me, she is my great-grandma, which belongs to my adoptive dad’s mother’s mum. I was so close to her that I’ll just skip school and stay at hospital at night to be right there for me, waiting for that moment she wake up and tell me “My child, I’m well now and feeling better.” But, I remembered so clearly that I did not wait for that sentence to come from her, but when I was sleeping I dream that she woke up and pat on my head and tell me “My child, I’m going to leave this world. All I want from you is to be good.” From that dream, I woke up and in my heart I said “Lucky is just a dream.” But I see like is abnormal and her face is pale, so I touched her hands, it is also cold. So I felt strange and called the doctors and using the hospital phone to call my parents. From then, I locked myself in the room for 3 days, and only the 3rd day I went to her wake and stayed there till the last day of the wake. All I could do that moment was to cry, and feeling so heart-pain. Remembered so clearly that, on her last journey I called all my cousins don’t cry because she won’t want us to cry so badly for her death. But, when we at Mandai, when we enter into the viewing hall, I was crying so loudly and after the whole thing, I asked my grandma “Where great-grandma going?” And all she could give me an answer was “She is no longer coming back but always in our heart.”  When I was 10 years old, I’ve faced the second death of my family that is so close to me too, he is my great-grandfather, which belongs to my adoptive yet also my biological mum’s mother’s dad. I was so close to her that I blamed my family for not going to my bring to ask for my early dismissal. I blame them for still wanting me to go school when my great-grandfather is in such condition and that I can’t see him for his last moment. I remember that year, was also a TV show that I’m inside too, but he can’t wait for that show to starts. When the show played, it is during the wake Day 3 already. After watching, beside his coffin I said “Only if you can see I appear on TV, I believe you will be so proud of me and you will be proudly tell your friends that the one they saw is your great-grandchild.” I remember for that 4 days of wake, how busy everyone is and the void-deck is pack and there is not enough chairs and tables for the relatives, families and friends to sit. The last day, I told my parents not to cry, but still back to the same. When about to push your coffin in, I cried the loudest among all. I could not stop myself because in my heart I’ve closed myself up. When I was 11 years old, I’ve decided to face my heart’s problems and decided to walk through it and not stop myself from overcoming. I seek school’s counselor to help me, and I really see myself more open up to my school people. But when I left Primary School and proceed to Secondary School, I stop assist help because I thought I was fine. But came to this breakdown that when I had a bad quarrel with this classmate of mine on my 13th birthday, I was so depressed and lost. I locked myself up once again, even I got bullied in class, my family don’t believe in me when I told them, and they said this “You don’t bully people, we already very happy.” That moment I realize my family trust to me was zero. But as my back spine getting more and more pain, my mum then decided to bring me to polyclinic and see a doctor go take review and referral to hospital for a check. But then time I have already getting more and more depressed when I was in Secondary 2, I often skipped school, pretend I’m sick to early go home and go mixed with bad companies, learnt how to smoke and drug addicted. I even self-harm myself when I was in class, and my classmate self-harm herself too.  This night, my classmate’s dad called and scolded me say when I self-harm his daughter’s hand and stuffs. The next day, my mum went to my school and reported those who bullies me and the classmate’s dad and aunt came. When the counselor heard my story and another classmate story is the same that I did not hurt my classmate is she ownself did want, her dad and aunt don’t believe until the counselor talked to her privately and then she admitted that it is her who did so by herself is just she did not dare to admit to them so she pushed the blames to me. From then, I seek my school counselor helps and at the same time also outside counselor help. Slowly, I’m getting more and more better. But of course in the middle I did got arrested by police but of course there is nothing got to do with me because not my fault either as I did my part to stop them but they refuse to listen it to me. Though they want me to backup stories together with them but I chose not too, because it is not a right thing to do so. So shortly, I was actually not having any record and release at midnight. Not long later, my grandaunt passed away when I was 14 years old. In the wake, I came to know two of my aunts that is a christian and they brought me to church when I was 14 years old. I’m a person that is slow to communicate unless people first communicate with me but after awhile I will be okay to communicate. When I was 16 years old, I changed my cellgroup to current cellgroup, N532, they have really said gave me a lot of warm and love. It’s because their persistence in sowing into my life, got me open up to them. But of course there was once I locked myself up because 16 years old I got molested by a malay guy. I remember how I looked into death and many things, and it is my leaders persistence accompany me to meet counselor after counselor. Even I go back my counselling centre, they will also go with me. When I’ve an appointment with IMH, they will try their best to make time for me to go with me, but if not they will drop me a text and tell me “Don’t be afraid, not physically there to support you but my spirit is.” Afterwards, I realize I was diagnose with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder(PTSD) . Afterwards, slowly I’m healed but certain guys I cannot help to be comfortable with but some I can.  When my grandfather, which is my biological dad’s father passed away when I was 18 I think, on the 7th day of my grandfather’s death, my dad actually molested me in one way or another. I was so heartbroken because own father also like this to the child? I meet up with one of the leader to share and I was so tensed up and really so scared with guys around me. When I was 20 years old, suddenly I’m recovered like I’m not really that tight and scare anymore. But recently when similar things nearly to happen of course I will afraid but I will look for people to talk on the phone to calm and chill a little, but on another part I know God is with me too. But when last year, things in life start not to be smooth. My adoptive dad’s mum’s health condition occurs issue that goes to my grandfather too. I’ve to look after them and I have to work at the same time. But just right last year Oct, my great-granduncle passed away. With the kind heart of some of my CG members, they have actually drop-by to pay their respect to my great-granduncle, and one help me buy dinner still. In my heart, I’m really so touched by their actions and love. That really helps me keep me stronger. When my grandma have to go operation, doctor say it might not be a smooth operation because due to my grandma’s health condition but I was praying for a smooth want. All I can do is, to pray and to wait for her to be out from the operator room. Waited until 8 plus, around 10pm then all of us go back home because we want to go up and visit my grandma before going back. That moment when I stand beside her bed, my heart really breaks into million of pieces to see her going through all these and suffering in pain. Heart hurts me was my grandma said “If knowing so difficult, I will already tell you to give up and don’t cure me already, just let me go.” When I heard that, my heart really breaks. I want to find someone to talk, but I no idea who can I talk to. I asked God “God, come give me peace and heal my broken heart that I will be strong for my family.” And it really works. God heard my prayers. I thank God for my manager also, in that period of time it is her giving me the time I want to work and giving me the early dismissal to spend more time with my grandma. The year just started for the 6 days, my step-father’s dad passed away. I asked my manager could I take OFF and my PH from 7 Jan till 10 Jan, and she say “Of course and please eat your meals and take care of yourself.” I’m really thankful for her being my manager and that season of my life. And God was there in the midst of us and given me comfort and peace, I really thank God for it. Nothing can replace that peace from God. God’s love have helped me to overcome many difficulties in my life. A person that used to have suicide thoughts many years back, 6 months ago have already healed completely. It’s been 1 month since I’m helping the teens and the youths out there to deal with the suicide thoughts that they have within themselves. I’m really happy that I can give back to the community. When they told me “为什么你要帮我? 我不值得你的时间, 跟何况我们又不认识.” I will always say this “因为以前有人帮了我, 现在我帮你, 以后就到你帮别人. 这世界没有东西说值不值得.” Though it is a simple reply but yet it is from my deepest heart for this reply. So, I’m really proud of myself able to be helping them. That day when I was at carpark, kind of drunk but yet wanted to save my friend back from jumping yet I fell together with her, although I did not hurt so badly, but I could not save my friend back. In my heart, through the journey with her to hospital, I asked myself “Why I can help others but I can saved my friend?” Then I was so lost, but then yet my heart is praying that you can fight through this battle. Please don’t give up on living, can? You know, you can lose your parents and grandma, no one on Earth with you, but you have me. I’ve never leave you. I’m always waiting, waiting for you to share. I’ve a friendship. In my heart I want to help her but I could not do so. I know you need time, because it is not easy. But when you can, can give me a chance to help you and walk it through together with you? Can let me say something? To me, you can no need to hide. If sometimes you really feel so tired and wants to cry, just cry. If you really want burst it out, I’m just 8 numbers away from you, I’m just a call away and I’ll be there for you, and just a call I’ll rush down to look for you. Proverbs 17:17(GW) - “A friend always loves, and a brother is born to share trouble.” Proverbs 17:17(GNB) - “Friends always show their love. What are relatives for if not to share trouble?” Proverbs 17:17(MSG) - “Friends love through all kinds of weather, and families stick together in all kinds of trouble.” Why I give you three verse is the same but realize one thing the version is different? I want to use this verse to speak to you. You can be like those teens and youths I’m helping out there to think that you are not worth for me to try so many times, and putting effort to try help you. But let me tell you in from this verse, we are friends, we are family, we are siblings in christ, and we are called to share troubled and carry each other burden. Do you know why am I went to the extramiles for my this friend who attempt suicide? I remember my elder sister when she still alive, she really wants to help this friend of mine but she can’t do so anymore, so I want to continue what my elder sister wants to do for her. Though I excepted that she will want to jump, but I just went too in deep with her emotions and therefore I send message are like my last moment on Earth. I know it can be quite dangerous but because I using my ways to help her. Now I’m telling you, what you told me in the past. What has happened, it has happened. But what you can change, is yet to happened. Sometimes by giving people advise and encouragement, you will realize that the words can also be used on yourself, but it not easy to tell yourself that. So, now I’m telling you. I don’t know what you are going through, but I hope that three different version of verse can stick to you because that speaks of my thousand words of heart and my love for my sister-in-christ. Don’t doubt on yourself whether are you worth a not, because whether does it worth a not, is not for you to say, it is for me to say. I say you are worth, because God say so. I say you are worth, because God did not say you are not worth. We are all the apple of God’s eye. God did not say “You are not worth for my love. You are not worth for me to help.” GOD DID NOT SAY SO, but God say “You are worth of my love. You are worth for me to help you. You are worth for me to place people to guide you through.” GOD SAY YOU ARE WORTH. Don’t doubt on your worth, because you are indeed really worth. I’m outside that door, I want you to really smile. I’ve always tell you that laugh I have when I wish you guys is fake, actually is my real smile and my real laugh. You can see from my instagram when I posted my 21st birthday picture, when I’m about to cut cake that laugh and you always see is it the same, and you will know. I want you to know you can always be vulnerable to me, no need really carry up that stronghold on yourself. I don’t say doesn’t mean I don’t know anything, my dear sister. You don’t have to pretend in front of God’s people, my dear friend. No one will judge you, I won’t too. But my deepest heart is to walk through with you. I’m always waiting. I’ll say this one more time, and when I feel there is a NEED I will still do so again..YOU ARE WORTH ME DOING SO MUCH FOR YOU, MY DEAR SISTER! Life Story World - XH Ng Time Check: 9 May 2018/311pm