#me having weird thoughts in bed before sleep

[yamumsyadadd]

change

Part of the Mariquita universe. Others can be found here:

mariquita , mami and mama, accident, different

Talks of adoption trauma, birth, anxiety. Little over 6k.

There was a weird energy around the apartment, it was hard for you to pinpoint exactly what it was. 

After the suspension from school and then removal and enrolment into the new school, you thought you’d be grounded. No tv, no iPad, no fun. But that wasn’t the case at all. Besides going shopping for a new school uniform, no one said anything about it. 

During Christmas dinner, your Abuela seemed to be stuck to you like glue. Whenever you went, she went. If you wanted a drink, she was up before you finished the sentence. Constantly filling your plate up with food to the point where you felt sick. When you finally got home, you asked your Mami about it. 

“Is abuela dying?” 

“Que? Why would you say that?” 

“She wouldn’t leave me alone. stuck to me like a baby.” At the word baby, both Olga and Alexia tensed. They were keeping a secret, a big secret that would change the way everything was. 

“I think she’s just sad you’re growing up. You used to be so little and cute.” Your Mami pinched your cheeks affectionately. 

“Maybe you should have another baby so she can annoy it.” The air in the room changed again, but you were either blissfully unaware or just didn’t care. 

“Right, it’s late, you should go to sleep. We have a busy few days!” Your Mami all but shoved you down the hallway. Turning back to Olga and waiting until the cost was clear, “this is going to be harder then I thought.” 

“we could just tell her amor. I think she’ll be happy.” 

“A few more days okay? We’ll go away, just the three of us, spend some quality time together and then we can tell her in the new year.” 

The break between Christmas and new year, have your family some much needed rest. La Molina ski resort was only two hours from Barcelona. It was far enough away to feel like a proper holiday but close enough that if needed, your family could return quickly. 

The hotel room was big enough to fit you, your Mami, abuela and tia alba if they were invited. There were two beds in your room, secretly deciding to sleep in both just because you could. 

Neither your Mami or Olga joined you for skiing, which wasn’t necessarily out of the ordinary, the last time you went to the snow, only Olga joined and she wasn’t very good so since then she has watched. Ice skating however, that’s something you’d do, the three of you, at the Christmas markets in Mollet, sometimes tia alba would join but she was even worse at ice skating then Olga was at skiing. 

You were sent to join the kids club for a few hours while Olga and your Mami relax, alexia insisted, stating it would be good for you to make new friends, as if you wouldn’t have to spend the rest of the school year making new friends. 

Skiing was fun, freeing. You suppose it’s how your Mami nd mama feel when they play football or how Olga feels when she’s on a plane to a different city. You like skiing, more than you’ve ever liked football, but it was a winter sport and it’s didn’t usually snow cold to Barcelona so it’s just a holiday sport to you. 

For a few hours you were gone, Mami and Olga were relaxing, brain storming ideas on how to tell you the big news. Well, the two big events that were going to be happening. They decided that after lunch was the best time to do so. 

“Marquita, we need to talk to you about something.” It was Olga who spoke, wiping her hands on the paper towel. 

“Am I in trouble?”

“No Bebé! Not at all. We are moving.”

“What? Where?” 

“Sant Just Desvern. Into a house, one with more bedrooms, a backyard. Closer to your new school and to the Joan.” 

“Oh. Am I, am I coming too?” If alexia wasn’t so wrapped up in all the big changes that were about to happen she would’ve realised the extent of the question. 

“OF course you are Mari! You get first pick on what bedroom you want, and we will go shopping for however you want to decorate it.” 

It went silent after that. There was still  trauma and anxiety about what happened to you before alexia and Jenni adopted you. Sometimes, it would creep up. Usually you did a good job of communicating it, either with your Mami and mama or with Tia Maria or Alba, even abuela. But this felt too big, too scary. 

For the last eight years, that apartment had been your home. It’s where Alexia and Jenni bought you home too, it’s where Nala lived, where mama lived and now, now you were moving into a new house that Nala never lived in and Mama wouldn’t be. 

The next three days flew by, you do more skiing, ice skating, sledding, all alone. You didn’t know the reason behind your Mami not letting Olga join, you knew your Mami wouldn’t go ice skating but she did join the sledding. If either woman had slowed down they would’ve realised that you were pulling away. 

When you arrived back to Barcelona on New Year’s Eve, your Mami told you there would be another present for you to open with your abuela and tia. You were slightly confused, having already gotten everything on your Wishlist. So as you sat there on the couch, your abuela and tia next to you, Olga and your Mami in front with three boxes on your laps, you were still confused as to what it could be. 

You opened it when they said you could, inside the box it contained 3 things. A photo of an ultrasound (which you didn’t understand), a baby jersey with ‘Putellas 11’ on the back and a shirt that said ‘world’s best big sister’. But you completely missed the shirt. Your Mami had put the shirt in the box the wrong way around.

It took a moment for everything to understand and then the chaos unfolded. Abuela and tia alba were crying, hugging both Olga and your Mami while you just sat there. 

“Mariquita? Do you understand?” Your Mami asked as she sat in front of you. 

In your mind, the blob was cancer, the jersey was confusing though. “Olga has cancer? Why are we celebrating that? How will I be a big sister if Olga has-“ it clicked in your brain, the blob wasn’t cancer it was a baby, “oh. Not cancer, a baby.” 

“Yes a baby.” Your Mami chuckled, “we are having a baby and you’ll be a big sister.” 

“Cool.” You gave a thumbs up towards Olga, unsure of what else to do. 

“Cool? That’s it?” 

“What else am I meant to say? Good luck?” 

“Jeez ale, she really is your daughter.” Alba laughed, ruffling your hair. It was no secret alexia was awkward and it seems you truly inherited that trait. 

Both Olga and alexia sat down on the couch next to you, Eli snapping a photo of the three of you. Your mind was full of anxiety. Anxiety about moving house, about the new school and needing to make new friends but mostly about the baby. 

As you lay in bed, the clock on your bedside table illuminating 3.13am, you couldn’t stop the tears from falling. The last time a baby was on the way was when you were in your last foster home, they were meant to adopt you, citing that they couldn’t have kids. Then they fell pregnant, cancelling the adoption and sending you back. You were only four then but it filled you with doubt. Would your Mami and Olga send you away too? Would you go to mamas or back into a foster home? 

Those thoughts consumed you for months. When you finally moved into the new house, you picked the room the furthest from your Mami and Olga’s room. You turned extra quiet. In your mind, if you were quiet then they would forget you were there. They wouldn’t send you away because they wouldn’t remember you were there. 

It back fired though, of course it did. Mama was coming to Madrid for Easter, your Mami agreed that you would go to Madrid and spend a few days with her then come back home and do Easter with the Putellas-Rios family. 

For four days you forgot about the impending doom that was waiting for you at home. For four days your mama and her family treated you like a princess, spoiling you and reminding you of how loved you were. 

On the flight home you turned quiet again, your mama noticed, pulling you up on it straight away. 

“Princess, what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing mama.” 

“You can tell me. You don’t have to lie bebé.” 

“Imscaredillbesentaway.” You said it so fast, your heart beating out of your chest, making you want to throw up. 

“Can you say that again for me? More slow this time.” 

You took a deep breath, refusing to look at your mama, “I’m scared I’ll be sent away when the baby comes. Mami and Olga won’t want me anymore.” 

“It won’t happen. You’re here to stay, forever. Why would you think that?” 

“It happened before. Before you and Mami. So it’ll happen again.” 

“No! No it won’t. You’re not going anywhere, you’re our daughter. Mine, mamis, and Olga’s. You’re our first baby, no one in this world would be able to take you.” Jenni spoke with so much conviction that apart of you believed her. 

“Do you promise?” 

“I promise. On everything. On my career, on your mamis. I promise.” Jenni’s heart broke at your lack of believing. She knew you took change hard but had hoped that as you grew up, you were more welcome to it. She guesses you just hide it easier. 

When you both arrived at the Barcelona airport and made it through security, Alexia and Olga were both waiting. Big smiles on their faces as their excitement to have you back was evident. You on the other hand, tensed the minute you saw them. Jenni knew she only had a limited amount of time to talk to alexia before her flight back to Madrid. 

“Ale, I need to talk to you.” She pulled alexia’s arm, trying to get her away from Olga and you. Olga noticed and nudged you away from them. 

“Everything alright?” 

“No. I know you’re excited to be having a baby with Olga but I’m worried you’re forgetting about y/n.” 

“What are you talking about? How could I forget her?” 

“She’s scared you’ll send her away when the baby comes Ale. She said it. Look at her, really look at her.” They both turned to look at you. You were hitting your hand against your leg, something you did when you were anxious. Your eyes stayed trained on the ground, refusing to look at Olga when she spoke. “That’s not the same kid I just spent 4 days with.” 

It seemed that both Olga and Alexia realised at the same time. Olga looked up with wide eyes, slightly panicked at the fact you weren’t engaging with her as usual, alexia on the other hand looked at you with her eyes full of tears. 

Arriving home didn’t bring you comfort, going to your room at the end of the house didn’t bring the calmness you thought it would. Instead it left you feeling empty and sad. 

The next few days were hard. Your Mami and Olga tried to talk to you, even going as far to get Mapi involved with Pina, Patri and Cata but nothing worked. You were stuck in a rut of anxiety and scaredness. 

Olga finally got you to crack, your Mami regretfully had to go away again for a game. Meaning she’d leave you while you were clearly going through something and she’d miss an ultrasound with Olga. 

The morning of the ultrasound, Olga all but dragged you out of the house. She too was feeling a mix of emotions. Despite both alexia and Jenni saying she was just as much as a parental figure to you as they were, she couldn’t help but feel on the outside. She hoped this baby would form as a bridge to you. Something you had more in common, but instead it was causing a wedge between all of you. 

You both cried at the ultrasound, seemingly for different reasons but at the time, Olga was optimistic that it was for the same reason. Seeing the baby. 

When you returned home you disappeared to your room very quickly, only to return with a duffle bag and backpack. 

“Can you take me to Eli’s please?” 

“What?” Olga was confused, Alexia never said anything about you staying there while she was gone. 

“You have your kid. You don’t want me here, Mami doesn’t want me here, so can you please take me? If you can’t it’s fine. I know how to get there.” 

“Y/n no. I’m not taking you to Eli’s-“ it came out a lot harsher than she anticipated. She realised as soon as the words left her mouth, “I’m sorry. What I meant is, this is your home. Now and forever. It doesn’t matter if I’m having a baby, no one can ever replace you. You’re our mariquita. You belong here, in this family.” 

“People have said that before and then they change their minds. This is what’s best. I leave and you and Mami can have the baby in peace. It’s okay Olga. I’ll catch the bus.” You were gone before she could argue. 

You heard the apartment door close behind you, Olga’s footsteps approaching as fast as she could, “mariquita please wait!” The fire staircase locked behind you as you ran down the stairs towards the exit. You knew it locked, you knew Olga would be stuck waiting for a lift, so it gave you time to figure how to get the bus. 

Olga raced back to the apartment only to realise her keys were inside. The door was locked and she was on the wrong side of the door. As if this whole thing couldn’t get any worse. 

In panic she rang alexia, which was the worst idea she could’ve had and as soon as alexia started to panic, she hung up. You said you were going to Eli’s, so she rang Eli who then rang alba who then rang the rest of her family. Soon enough the entire Putellas family was out hunting for you. 

You had a phone, she could’ve rang you, but in her panic she forgot about that. Alexia didn’t though, she rang you. Multiple times. Each time you watched it ring out, too afraid of her confirming the fact that she was going to ‘return you’. 

After what felt like hours, you finally arrived to Mollet. The sun was setting so you knew you had to go fast. Eli was there when you arrived, running out the front door when she saw you come up the driveway. 

“Mariquita! Dios mío you scared me. You scared us all! What were you thinking!” 

“Mami and Olga don’t want me anymore. You know how to book flights so I wanted to come here. Olga said she wouldn’t take me so I took the bus.” 

“They don’t want to get rid of you! What are you talking about?” Eli was in disbelief. She couldn’t believe that you truly felt that way, or that her daughter would give you that idea. 

“It’s happened before! Why aren’t people understanding! Mami and Olga are finally having a baby, making their own family. Their OWN. I’m not apart of that. This family is no longer mine, and that’s okay. If you won’t help me get to mama, I’ll figure it out myself.” 

“No. You will come inside and we will wait for your Mami and Olga. You will eat dinner and have a shower but you’re not leaving and I am not booking you a flight.” 

You ate in silence, much to Eli’s dismay. She tried and tried to get more answers out of you, giving up when she realised you wouldn’t talk anymore. Seeing you this way, being selectively mute, reminded her of the first time she met you. 

You were a tiny four year old. Both alexia and alba were at least double your weight when they were your age. It shocked Eli, alexia had warned her but no amount of warning could stop the feelings that she felt when she saw you. 

Both Eli and Alba had been waiting patiently to meet you. They were told from the beginning that you were different, suffered from trauma that neither Alexia nor Jenni fully understood. To Eli, you were perfect. 

The social worker warned Alexia and Jenni about the trauma you had endured and that they weren’t sure about how much you remembered or what you saw. When things got overwhelming you went mute. It was a coping mechanism and over the years, with lots of therapy and love, that habit disappeared. 

As you stood behind Alexia’s legs, peaking through every so often, you looked tiny. There were healing bruises on your arms. Not in the way kids normally get bruises. 

It took a long time for you to say anything more than “hola” to her. She remembers the day like it was yesterday. You had scored a goal against Mapi and you were so excited. Smashing through the front door, without evening taking your shoes off. 

Eli cried that night. She cried about how happy you looked, how happy you were and how you actually spoke. 

It was now the opposite, you weren’t that shy little four year anymore. But old habits die hard. Sometimes it’s easier to go mute than to focus on what was truly happening. 

Olga was waiting in the spare room when you got out of the shower. Or the room that used to be alexia’s room. Littered with photos of her and her friends as they grew up, a few of her and your mama, alba too. It was a time capsule, for you it felt overbearing. You didn’t have friends like she did, you’d have a sibling in four months but it wouldn’t be the same as her and alba. 

“Mariquita. We need to have a proper conversation. I want you to tell me everything. If you truly can’t, I will wait for your Mami, but you need to talk. No more pretending everything is fine.” 

“Okay.” You say on the floor, your knees pressed against your chest, your back hard against the wall. “What do you want me to say first?” 

“How did you feel when we told you we were having a baby?” 

“Scared. Excited. Anxious. Jealous.” 

“Can you elaborate please?” 

“Before Mami and mama, I was with this other couple. They couldn’t have kids for whatever reason and they were going to adopt me. A few weeks before they found out they were having a baby and cancelled the adoption. Literally just palmed me off. Then the kids at the group home would say how no one wanted me and whatever. I didn’t think I believed it but I guess I did. 

You and Mami would have this experience, you being pregnant I mean, Mami and mama didn’t have that with me, so I feel like this baby is better than me in that sense. Mama is so far away and I was scared that if you decided to get rid of me that she wouldn’t get here in time and I’d just be on the street.

I picked the room furthest from the others because I thought, I thought if I did that you would forget I was there. It would be sad to be forgotten but I would have somewhere safe to stay. 

Then you said you wouldn’t bring me here and I panicked. I thought someone was going to come and take me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Sobs racked your body, and for the first time Olga saw you as the little girl Alexia described. Broken, scared and tiny. Right then in her mind, you weren’t the twelve year old she’d grown to love, you were a tiny four year old. Scared of what was to come. 

“No Mariquita. No sorry. You were scared, that’s okay. You’re allowed to be scared, anxious and whatever else you want to feel. You’re allowed to feel it all but you’re safe here, with you Mami, mama and with me. Yes, this will be the first baby I give birth too, but it’s not my first kid.” You looked up at her, not realising she had moved in front of you, “you’re my first kid Mariquita. You’re as much my daughter as you are to your Mami and mama. I know it is a big change, you’re scared and truthfully I am scared. Terrified actually. But I know you’re going to be the best big sister ever and this baby is lucky to have you. I’m lucky to have you.” 

You let yourself fall into Olga’s arms. You were both crying, hanging onto each other for dear life. When alexia arrived to her mamis house, all guns blazing, she was met with a stern Eli. Giving her daughter an ear full about the way she spoke to Olga. Olga however didn’t hold a grudge. She knew Alexia was panicking, she was also panicking. 

“Ale, she needs therapy, she needs help. Don’t be mad at her, you can be mad at me but not her.”

“I’m not mad. I’m sorry, I was just so scared. I didn’t want to leave as it was and then I did and this happens? What do we do olgi?” 

“We start by moving her room, closer to ours.” Alexia gave her girlfriend a confused look, “she took that room in case we didn’t want her anymore. She’d be far away so she’d stay out of the way and have somewhere to stay.” 

Alexia let the tears fall, wrapping an arm around Olga as they wanted you sleep. “How did things get so fucked up?” 

“We will fix it. All of it.” Instead of waking you and leaving for their own house, both alexia and Olga climbed into bed with you. The game was the last thing on Alexia’s mind. All she wanted was for her family to be happy, for you to be happy. 

Fix it they did. It started with moving your room, something you were still on edge about, even with all the reassurance. Then it was the therapy, twice a week. Once with the school counsellor and once with the clubs psychologist. 

Neither Alexia nor Olga spoke about the baby around you, both families were also on strict instructions not too. Both therapists agreed that it would be better for now, if you wanted to know, you would ask. It wasn’t that you hated this unborn baby, it was that you were still scared about being ‘returned’. 

Olga had an ultrasound coming up, it was to find out the gender and your Mami wanted you there. They had put off finding out the gender for the last two months because they wanted you there to enjoy it. She wanted this to be a family event, something that would bring you all join but she also knew not to push you. 

“Mari, bebé, can you come here for a sec?” 

“Mami I promise I’ll clean my room!”

“It’s not about that.” Your Mami laughed. “I want to ask you a question. If you don’t feel comfortable and want to stay here or with Alba that’s fine. There’s no pressure at all. Okay?”  

“Okay?”

“Today Olga has an ultrasound to find out the gender. I want to invite you, again there’s no pre-“

“Yeah I’ll come.” To you, it was no longer a big deal. You were mostly excited for the baby, still a little nervous about the change. Your Mami was sat gobsmacked on the couch as you walked away, finally going to clean your room. 

Olga got in the car, completely unaware of your presence until you asked a simple question, to which she let out a bloody curling scream, clutching her chest. All you and your Mami could do was laugh. She didn’t ask any questions about what you were doing, only giving Alexia a look that said ‘we will talk later.’ 

‘A boy.’ The technician announced. 

A flurry of movement happened in that moment. Your Mami had pulled you towards her and Olga, a group hug forming. There were tears, happy tears. And when your Mami looked at you sadly you made sure to emphasise that were happy. 

There was a question bobbing around in your head though. How did Olga get pregnant. Obviously you were given a simple sex talk in school and by both your mothers, but it never occurred to you that two women would have sex differently. That was something you would need to google when you got home, not wanting to deal with the awkwardness of asking your Mami or Olga. 

“Ice cream time?” Your Mami smiled as she pulled you into her side. 

“I definitely want ice cream.” Olga piped up. 

You interlinked your hands with Olga���s, swinging them, laughing and smiling as you went along for the journey to the ice cream parlour. 

As all three of you sat there laughing and eating your ice cream, all alexia could think about is how lucky she was. There would be more bumps in the road, but right now everyone was happy. You were laughing and smiling with Olga, it was definitely a sight for sore eyes. 

The following two months were basically spent fussing over Olga and her ever growing baby bump. She referred to you and your Mami as ‘the twins’. Forever asking if she needed something or offered to get it for her, even going so far as to guide her to the bathroom when Alexia was away for a game. 

You were certainly the mediator between them somedays. Alexia going on about how the baby doesn’t need more clothes, or shoes, or toys but you would side with Olga. Or when Alexia wanted Olga to stay in bed to relax, you were at her side encouraging her to do so. 

The biggest surprise came when you asked what the birth plan was. 

“I don’t know. Push it out and hope I don’t poop?” 

Alexia was bewildered, “why do you ask? How do you know what a birth plan is?” 

“I googled it.” You shrugged, “I’ve also watched birthing videos on YouTube. You’ll probably shit yourself.” 

“Not helpful!” 

“Is that something you want to be involved in?” Your Mami asked as she rang her fingers through your hair, making a mental note to book you in for a haircut soon. 

“If that’s what Olga wants.” 

“I do. But you don’t have to. It’ll probably be gross.” 

“Oh it’ll definitely be gross.” Both adults laughed as you scrunched your nose. 

“Can I leave if it gets too much?” 

“Of course Mari! Eli and my mami will be in the waiting room.” 

“Along with half the team no doubt.” 

It was settled, you would be there to watch your little brother come into this world. The option to leave was there if you wanted to take it. There was truly only one question still in your mind: how did Olga get pregnant?

As the final month began, everyone around was on edge, expect for you. You have read everything, watch hours and hours of YouTube videos. You were ready. Emotionally, you were better. Talking candidly with your mami and mama whenever they asked, Olga too. 

If you needed to deliver the baby in the lounge room, you could do that. If you needed to drive her to the hospital, illegally, you could do that. Thanks to bullying Mapi into teaching you how to drive when she was supposed to be watching you for a date night. 

You and Olga had secretly bought and packed a second hospital bag, knowing the minute Olga’s water broke, your mami would be insane. And she was. 

A week after the baby’s due date, Olga’s water broke. She was sitting outside on the chairs enjoying the sun when it happened. Her contractions weren’t as frequent as the hospital required, once every 15 or so minutes. But as soon as she told Alexia, she went crazy. 

Both of you found it amusing, watching her run around the house trying to find things she would need, offering Olga the hair straightener, hair drier, a scrubbing brush? She wouldn’t relax until you called your abuela. When Eli arrived, Olga’s contractions were 12 minutes apart, Alexia looked like she was going to throw up, pass out and cry all at once. 

Even though she was running around like a headless chook, every time a contraction hit she was right there by Olga’s side. Helping her breathe through it. For someone so calm and collected when it came to football, she was truly the opposite right now. Your abuela couldn’t help but laugh when she saw what her daughter was doing. 

Between every contraction Alexia was off cleaning something, as if they had not organised for the cleaner to come while Olga was in labour. 

“Mami? What are you doing?” Curiosity got the best of you, finding your mami in the wardrobe going through her sock drawer. 

“Mari! Good you’re here, help me go through these please. I think some of these socks are yours.” 

“No mami.” You laughed at her truly panicked state, you couldn’t wait to tell Mapi about it, “Olga’s in labour and you’re in here organising your socks? Do you think that’s a good use of your time?” 

“¡Dios mío! You’re right! I need to clean your bathroom!”

“Mami no! You need to be with Olga. You’re being slightly insane right now.” 

“I’m panicking okay? I don’t know what to do!” 

“You should probably breathe and put the hospital bag in the car. It’s in the hallway closet.” 

“No, it’s next to my side of the bed. I made sure it was close.”

“Oh nah we aren’t taking that one. Olga bought another because she knew you would panic. Vamos! We are having a baby.” You smiled and skipped out of the room. 

After a very long 16 hours, it was finally time for Olga to push. Everyone was exhausted. Labour looked rough, the videos you had watched didn’t make it same as bad but it was bad. 

As Olga’s legs opened and while she was mid push, you decided to look. Why? You had no idea. 

“I’ve never seen a vagina before and that’s disgusting.” You looked like you were going to pass out. A clip to the back of your head and a stern look from your mami had you mumbling a sorry to a laughing Olga. 

It didn’t take much longer for your baby brother to be born. You were crying, Olga was crying your mami too but most importantly, your baby brother was crying. 

Truthfully, a few hours ago you were getting anxious about how the aftermath would be, but when Olga reached out for your hand, pulling you closer and kissing your forehead, you knew everything would be okay. 

Your mami sent you home with Eli to shower and get some sleep. There were so many questions in your head, ones you wanted to google and ones you just wanted to ask. After a good feed and sleep, you were back to the hospital the next morning. 

Your mami was pacing the room when you got there, looking anxious and sweaty. 

“Hi? Can I come in?” You asked shyly. 

“Mari! Oh bebé, of course you can. Come here, hug me.” She squeezed you so tight and you were hitting her back to get her to stop. 

“Mami. Mami! Can’t breathe!” You spattered out. 

“Oops sorry!” She slightly pushed you away. Olga was nursing your baby brother. He looked so small, smaller than you imagine. 

“Do you want to hold him?” Olga asked, noticing you were staring. 

“Can I?” 

Your mami walked you through it, one hand supporting his head, the other his body. 

“What’s his name?” 

“Rio Jaume Putellas.” She fiddled with the beanie on his head, “rio for Olga’s last name, Jaume for my papi, Putellas for you.” Alexia wanted to cry, the way you looked at the baby was the same way she looked at Alba. Sure, there was a twelve year age gap between you and baby Rio, but that look told her everything she needed to know. You would protect him with your life, love him with your entire heart, and annoy him like any big sister would. 

Friends and family slowly trickled into the room throughout the day, when Ingrid and Mapi arrived they were so overcome with emotion that Mapi was crying. A big ugly cry. For you, it was funny. 

“I have a question.” All four adults turned to you, “I know how babies are made with a man and a woman but with two woman do you use that strap thing that has a button to make the stuff come out? I don’t really understand.” 

Everyone’s faces dropped, if baby Rio wasn’t in the bassinet, you were sure he would be on the floor. 

“What the fuck.” Mapi was the first person to say anything. 

“Y/n how do you know what that is?” Your mami used your first name, something she didn’t do very often. 

“I googled it? I wanted to be prepared for all of this.” 

“Your iPad is being taken away from you.” Was all Olga said. Poor Ingrid was still in disbelief. 

“No ipad, no phone, no tv. Anything that has the internet is gone. Absolutely not.” 

When alba walked into the tense room and saw you mami pacing, once again, she was confused. “Ah what happened?” 

“I asked if they used the strap thing that has stuff come out of it to make baby rio. Now they are broken.” You shrugged, waving your hand around at them. 

“A strap thing with stuff coming out of it?” Alba repeated back, not understanding what you were saying. “Oh. OH!” It clicked. Then she laughed, tears coming out of her eyes, stomach hurting, kind of laugh. 

“This isn’t funny Alba!” Alexia gritted. 

“Lesbian sex talk time! Are we making a PowerPoint?” A pillow was through at her, this time from Olga. 

Thankfully both your abuela and Olga’s mum arrived so the subject was changed very quickly. For you- no answers were supplied and your mami seemingly forgot about the no internet rule very quickly. 

Once everyone was home, it was weird. You weren’t 100% sure what to do, every time the baby cried you just stared at him. Unsure if you were allowed to help. One morning when it was just you and Olga in the kitchen you asked. 

“I want to help but I don’t know what to do.” 

“You’re helping Mari.” You gave her a confused look, “you make coffee for us in the morning, you changed our bed sheets the other night, every morning I come out here it’s clean. Because you do that. You’re helping in ways that are unimaginable but I want you to remember that you’re twelve. You don’t have to do all this. My mami, Eli, your mami, they can all do it.” 

She pulled you into her side, kissing your cheek. Olga was grateful for you, your mami was grateful for you, and you were grateful for them. For being patient, not getting rid of you, for loving you. 

When you rocked baby Rio to sleep, you reminded him that he was loved, safe and wanted. Something you didn’t want him to forget. 

Alexia would often cry when she saw you holding him with a big smile on her face. Or when she saw you doing tummy time with him because he was ‘lonely on the ground by himself’. 

Your family was full. Hearts were full. Love was never far away. 

[enbyfvcker]

perhaps sub logan soft dom wade gently bullying him into loving himself - i’ve specifically had this idea of maybe incorrect safe word usage (stay with me here trust me hold on) from logan and wade is questioning it when he figures out it’s because he doesn’t feel like he deserves praise and then sappy pwfeelings commences

Tags: smut, dom/sub undertones, soft dom!Wade, incorret safe word usage, praise kink, bottom!logan, top!wade, anal sex, riding

Logan's been around for a long time. He's tried many different things in bed. Call him kinky or whatever. He doesn't mind trying new stuff.

But he wasn't really familiar with the concept of a safe word. He never used it, and neither did any of his partners in the past.

Honestly, if you're sleeping with Logan, it's really not likable you would want to put a stop to everything.

So when Wade brought it up in the middle of a make-out session, Logan kinda thought it was one of his jokes.

Their lips were glued together, and things were getting heated and more intense when Wade pulled away.

"So, just putting it out in the open- My safe word is chimichangas. Thought it'd be nice to share. What's yours, peanut?"

Logan just chuckles softly. "I don't have one, red."

"Whaaat? But it's important!"

"Is it, really?"

"Yes! That's why it has 'safe' in it. It's for safety."

"I could just say 'stop'..."

"What if you say 'stop' when you don't really want me to stop?"

"That'd be stupid."

"You're stupid, sometimes."

Logan glares knives at him.

"Come on, pleease? Be a good kitty and come up with one." Wade insists, and Logan feels his heart flutter at his words. He sighs, trying to think of something.

"Fuck, I don't know- Anything?"

"Yeah, it has no rules, just say the first thing that pops up in your head."

"Uhh- Yellow?"

"You're so not creative, peanut." Wade laughs.

"You said anything!"

"It's alright, pookie. I can be the creative one in this relationship, I'll hold that weight on my shoulders." Logan rolls his eyes.

"So, if you want me to stop at any time just say 'yellow', okay?" Wade asks with a grin.

"Fine, whatever."

"Anyway... where were we?" The merc smirks as he goes back to kissing Logan. He softly pushes him on the bed until Logan's back meets the mattress as Wade's over him.

Scarred hands slip under his shirt to pull it off. Wade throws it somewhere in the room and buries his head on Logan's chest.

"Gosh, love your titties." His voice is muffled against his skin.

"You gotta stop saying weird shit like that." Logan grunts, even though his heart was racing. Wade could hear it.

"And lose all my charm? No way." The merc grins before licking and nibbling Logan's nipple, earning a small groan from him.

"Wh- What charm?" He tries to give a sharp retort, but his voice comes out more desperate than planned.

"Such a hypocrite." Wade chuckles, his hand traveling down Logan's chest, stomach, and thighs until he palms and squeezes the obvious erection straining against jeans. "Your buddy seems to differ."

"Just shut up..." Logan moans, working on Wade's shirt and tossing it on the floor.

"You ask for too much-" Wade's interrupted when Logan crashed his mouth over his, kissing him hungrily and fast.

Logan groans between the kiss and invert their positions, pushing Wade on his back roughly and straddling his waist. "Shut. Up." He pulls away, correcting his posture and looking down at the merc under him that was sporting an awestruck expression.

"Oh, fuck..." Wade gasps at the sight of Logan straddling him, moaning when he moves his hips in a tantalizing roll, their bulges pressing together. Logan smirks as he watches Wade's chest heaving fast, shivering when the merc's hands hold his waist.

Logan removes both their pants and boxers, their skin in contact now when he rolls his hips again. Wade reaches for the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube, handing it to Logan. He takes it and spreads the liquid over Wade's cock, stroking it up and down before he positioned it against his entrance, slowly sinking down.

"Oh, fucksweetmarveljesus-" Wade babbles under him, his eyes glued to where they're connecting. A loud whimper leaves his throat when Logan finally sinks all the way down with a groan.

He begins to move up and down in a steady rhythm, slow at first. Wade practically had starts in his eyes as he watches Logan riding him, his hard cock bouncing against his stomach.

"Fuck, peanut- You look soso pretty... God, why haven't we done it in this position before?" Wade speaks between moans. "I'd die happily after beholding such view... So hot, kitty."

Logan's face heat up and his cock throbs against his stomach at the praises, leaking pre-cum.

His heart flutters quickly in confusion. At the same time Wade's words light a fire within him, he also doesn't feel like he deserves them. For so long, people in his universe would barely bat an eye at him, even less desire him the way Wade does.

He never done this before. Everything with Wade seemed so new to him, and he still felt a little self-conscious about it. He wasn't really used to it. He received nothing in the last years but insults. And when Wade praises him, his circuits burst. The wires in his brain sparkling, his movements faltering.

"Need a little help, princess?" Wade smirks, his hands gripping Logan's ass cheeks as he guides him up and down, his hips thrusting upward. Logan's whimpers loudly as the pleasure intensifies, his hands at Wade's chest for support. "Fuck, feels so good- you're so good, baby."

"Wade-" Logan tries, his mind at a war of sensations. Wade's thrusts get faster, his hands strongly guiding Logan's hips up and down.

"Just like that. So gorgeous for me-"

Logan's heart seemed to be about to blow up.

It was too much.

"St- Yellow!"

Wade's movements immediately halt to a stop. Logan tries to catch his breath, hands still in the merc's chest.

"What's wrong, peanut?" Wade asks, trying to search Logan's face, but he was avoiding his eyes. "Did I do something you didn't like?"

Logan doesn't know how to respond. He barely knows what he's feeling. "No... Just... Stop talking..."

Wade tilts his head to the side, a bit puzzled. He could see the blush on Logan's features.

"I didn't say anything much... I just said you look pretty." Logan's cock twitches again at the words and he curses himself internally because Wade definitely noticed.

"Oh..." Wade chuckles. "I see." His hips resume to their previous movements, thrusting up into Logan, earning a surprised moan from his throat. "What, is kitty cat not used to being complimented? Oh, I'm definitely fixing that."

"W-Wade!" Logan whines, his face flushing more now that Wade reads into him.

The merc switches their positions for a second time, pressing Logan down on the bed. He thrusts slowly, hands gripping Logan thighs.

"It's all true. You do look so pretty." His hips move in a steady rhythm, slowly picking up the pace, bullying his way into Logan's hole. Logan whimpers loudly as each thrust hits his prostate, his heart racing. "Look so hot riding my cock, under me, on your knees, from the back... You look gorgeous in every angle, peanut. Wanna draw you naked, frame it and put it in the living room like a fucking renaissance painting."

"Wade..." Logan's moans grow more needy, the words slipping from the merc's mouth only pushing him closer, his face flushed deeply.

"Gonna make sure you know it. Gonna tell you every day. Shower you in praises the way you deserve, kitten." Wade's hand wrap around Logan's dripping cock, stroking him in rhythm with his thrusts, making his eyes roll back in pleasure.

"Fuck- Wade, I-"

"I know, baby. Be a good kitty and cum for me." Logan's back arches, his claws extending in a flash as he spills all over Wade's hand and his own stomach, his vision going black for a moment. He feels Wade's cock twitching before releasing inside him, their moans tangling.

As they catch their breaths, Wade presses his head against Logan's neck and pampers kisses all over his throat and shoulders, pouring all his affection into it.

"Did so good for me. Such a good kitty. You okay?" Wade whispers against his neck.

"Yeah, I'm okay." Logan smiles lazily, still lightheaded.

"I don't think you know how a safe word works, peanut. Next time you like something, just tell me." Wade chuckles.

"My bad, I panicked..." Logan chuckles too, sounding a bit embarrassed.

"You're so cute, Wolvie."

[tiramisuucakeee]

STRANGER ★

( reader x park sunghoon )

IN WHICH: park sunghoon feels like he’s drifting away from his girlfriend, but after one night, she’s a stranger again, or perhaps she has always been. even if they were relatively close, they were still very far.

read more !

silence enveloped the dark hot room, as thoughts were more than enough noise. park sunghoon laid next to you, above your blue bed cover, a hand resting under his head, as he turned to look at you.

his eyes felt like they were burning, but they weren’t warm enough to break through the barrier you had set up. in all honestly, you didn’t know why he still tried in the relationship, why was he still here?

“y/n…” he started, but you were quicker to turn him down.

you rolled over in your bed, in nothing but a shirt and underwear, your hair still managing to look neat, as if you had just gotten home. “i’m going to take a shower,” you let him know, as you opened your closet, taking out a small strapless dress and a pair of heels.

“you’re going out?” sunghoon furrowed his brows, sitting up, leaning on his two arms.

“yeah, i told you before. just because you’re here doesn’t mean i’m going to cancel my plans,” you laughed incredulously, glancing at your bed-side table, where a clock sat at, reading the time. “you should go.”

sunghoon then spoke again, stopping you from escaping to the bathroom, “can’t you just stay a few minutes with me?” he asked, more like begged. it’s all he had been doing lately, feeling as if you were escaping from his grasp.

“you wanted to come over sunghoon, if you want to stay here for the night or something… go ahead. i’m probably going to sleep somewhere else or get back in the morning,” you threw him a smile, and before he could say anything, you disappeared into the bathroom.

the shower head started running with water, as your dirty clothes dropped to the ground, that only made sunghoon wonder when had this all started, not your relationship, but your un-relationship, if you could call it that.

you were so loving at the start, so kind and accepting, in his opinion, everything was perfect. so what happened that made you pull away from him. was it something he did? something he said? he couldn’t recall any evil done from his part.

it al brought him back to the day you met him.

sunghoon entered the rooftop at school, away from his lousy friends, wanting to eat lunch in peace, not having a feral niki attacking him, or hearing heeseung and jake fighting over basketball.

as soon as the door closed behind him, he immediately regretted it. the rooftop was occupied by you, staring at the sky.

“sorry… for interrupting, i’ll leave,” sunghoon immediately spoke.

you didn’t even turn to look at him, as if he was nothing but a random passerby. but you opened your mouth before he could leave, “why do you always run away from me?”

in all truthness, sunghoon was in love, and he didn’t know why. you weren’t his type. you weren’t quiet, reserved, or dressed very nicely. but there was something about you, like you were someone important.

he noticed himself starting to fall in love when his friends asked who he looked for in the halls. he noticed he started to fall when he was interested in what types of treats and movies you liked.

everyday, it was like you were there. he saw you on the patio, when he looked out his window in class, outside the gym, near your locker, exiting your homeroom. you were always there, he saw you.

but you never once saw him as someone. you did notice a guy running away nervously everytime you were near, or making the impossible to not bump into you. and you knew more than anyone what it was about, still, his reaction was weird.

“come sit,” you said. you weren’t any kind of monster, not yet. so why did someone that liked you, ran away from you. never has someone had the guts to refuse you, if he did, he had to have a pretty good reason to.

“okay,” he muttered, slowly walking over, sitting down next to you. for the rest of the hour, not a single word was spoken.

he didn’t feel the need to say something, because you letting him sit there, was all the validation he needed, it was everything he craved for. but you, only kept him there because there was not a reason not to, he wasn’t lousy, he didn’t bother you, and he didn’t try anything weird.

and so, it was like a silent agreement that you two were always together. sunghoon would follow you around like a puppy, his bag slung over one shoulder, and a hand in his pocket. while you went about your day, not even speaking a word to him.

then when he asked you out, you accepted. maybe out of boredom and because your mother accepted him first or maybe because you could have felt something, there was still that tiny bit of chance that you did like him.

“ah, you’re still here, i thought you’d leave,” you came out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around your body, noticing he was sitting in the same position you left him, like a dog waiting for him owner. “sunghoon, you are allowed to leave, you know?” you raised a brow, and when you didn’t get a reply, you sighed, starting to change into your clothes.

sunghoon’s dark eyes followed your moves through the dimly lit room. even now, after years of ‘being together’, he was starting to realize that he knew all of you, but you didn’t know a bit of him. it was like he was always around for you, never the other way around. but what if he said something about it? would you finally get rid of him like he heard you’ve been wanting to?

“what do you want for breakfast tomorrow?” he asked. sunghoon didn’t give a damn if you wanted him out. he was going to fight for whatever relationship you have, because after all, he still loves you.

“uh, whatever i guess..” you muttered, putting on the heels, “okay, i’m done,” you stood up, clapping your hands, and turned to him. “so you’re staying after all right? can you receive an online order i got? it’s getting here tomorrow morning,” you asked, receiving a nod.

“okay then,” you confirmed he would do as said, and grabbed all your belongings, walking out of your room. right. when was the last time you ever said ‘love you’ or ‘goodbye’ to him. if something were to happen to him, would you feel bad? would you then start to appreciate him?

the silence hung in the air like a thick fog, heavy and suffocating. sunghoon watched you leave without a second thought, as if he was nothing more than a background detail in the story of your life. the door clicked shut behind you with finality, and he exhaled, his chest tightening with a pain that had become too familiar.

he hated how the love he gave you, the constant attention, the patience, it all seemed so invisible to you. why was he so loved by everyone else except you? you didn’t care to know what he liked, dislike, what sunghoon did in his free time and so. it was like he was just your shadow.

“will you ever see me?” he murmured, his voice barely audible in the empty space. the words fell into the void, unanswered.

the phone rang, a harsh, intrusive sound in the middle of the night. sunghoon’s body jerked awake, disoriented, his heartbeat already racing as his eyes flicked to the clock. 4:03 AM. his hand shot out instinctively to grab the phone, the screen flashing your name, and for a split second, his mind was filled with nothing but relief.

maybe you realized that you’d actually want to be with him. it was something he wished for, though it was weird. you never called him. maybe you needed something, or maybe you just got confused and dialed the wrong number. still, it warmed his heart that you could have drink called him.

but when he answered, it wasn’t you. it was another voice. he was used to you hanging around other men and going out with them, but this voice would never do something like that.

“sunghoon, it’s jungwon, y-you need to get here now!” jungwon’s voice was ragged, barely holding itself together. "you need to come to the hospital. she’s going into surgery.” he informed. it was likely that jungwon was dropping off something for his father, who was a surgeon, and suddenly came upon this.

his pulse stuttered in his throat, the words not quite registering at first. his mind spun with confusion, scrambling to latch onto something solid. "what? what do you mean? what happened?" sunghoon’s voice cracked as he pushed himself up in bed, his body stiff with panic, every fiber of his being already alert, bracing for something.

it should have been wrong for him to care about you, cause you never once did for him. if sunghoon were to disappear tomorrow, you’d probably notice when someone asked. but he couldn’t bear to have you away, not like this, not so sudden.

jungwon’s voice faltered again, like he was struggling to find the right words, or maybe even the strength to say them, he was always empathetic with his friends. "she was in a car crash. it’s bad, sunghoon. really bad. the others… they didn’t make it. she’s the only one… but she’s unconscious, and-"

a sick, metallic taste rose in sunghoon's mouth. his heart felt like it was stopping, like time itself had frozen in that one endless second.

"is she…?" sunghoon’s voice broke again, barely more than a whisper, like he was afraid to even speak the possibility aloud. the fear gnawed at him, crawled up his spine, twisted his stomach into knots.

"she was alive when they got here, but then she passed out. i don’t know how long it’ll be… or what’s going to happen." jungwon’s voice cracked, as though he too were barely holding it together. "you need to come, sunghoon. now. she might not even wake up."

the words hit him like a punch to the gut.

not even wake up.

sunghoon’s mind went blank. his hand trembled as he clutched the phone, his grip tightening until his knuckles ached. his chest felt like it was being squeezed by invisible hands, the pressure unbearable. the thought of you, lying motionless in a sterile hospital bed, surrounded by machines that would keep you alive but never truly bring you back, it was too much to comprehend.

"i’m coming," sunghoon’s voice was steady, but it felt like a lie. he was scared. his body was moving before he even realized, stumbling out of bed, legs shaking as he forced himself to stand. his mind was reeling, spinning in circles as the details swirled around him. car crash. surgery. you. you.

as he rushed out of the apartment, the cool night air did nothing to calm the raging storm inside him. his heart was racing, but it wasn’t just fear that gripped him. it was an unbearable sense of guilt.

in that moment of desperation, he finally understood why he cared so much. sunghoon had always watched you from afar, you never had anyone apart from yourself. never a true friend. everyone was a passerby in your life, and perhaps he was one too, but he had been determined not to be. he wanted you to have something real, someone who you trusted, someone you could rely on.

how many times had he put his own feelings aside, his own love, only to be treated like an afterthought? hadn’t he given you everything? he had waited. he had waited for you to need him, to come to him, to want him in a way that was real. but all that time, all that patience, did it matter now? was it too late for him to matter?

the hospital felt like a nightmare. everything about it was wrong, bright fluorescent lights that felt too harsh, cold hallways that smelled of antiseptic and despair. sunghoon's feet carried him through the corridors almost mechanically, his mind still reeling from the call.

you’re alive. you are in surgery but alive. every step felt heavier than the last.

he found jungwon near the entrance, his face pale in despair, eyes hollowed with exhaustion and grief. he didn’t speak at first. he didn’t need to. the unspoken words hung between them like a thick, suffocating fog. jungwon was somehow similar to sunghoon, although he didn’t want to force you to be his friend, he thought you deserved someone who was close to you. but not in that way. he didn’t approve how you basically stomped on sunghoon’s heart for free.

"she’s in there," jungwon finally said, voice quiet, strained. "my father came out some minutes ago, they… they’re doing everything they can. but sunghoon… her chances aren’t good."

his eyes flicked to the door leading to the intensive care unit, and sunghoon felt a sickening twist in his stomach. he stepped forward, but then, for a fleeting moment, doubt clouded his mind.

he couldn’t afford to let it consume him. he had spent too long waiting, waiting for you to finally see him, to love him, to understand. he had given you everything. everything.

but now, as he stood in front of that door, staring at the sterile room beyond, he couldn’t help but wonder, would it matter?

sunghoon hadn’t left your side. he couldn’t, even as the hours bled into days, even as the doctors had whispered about the “long road ahead” and the uncertainty of your condition. every beep of the machine was a reminder that you were still here, but not the same. not you. it was a shell, waiting for your consciousness to come back.

and then, one morning, after days of waiting, after nights of restless pacing, you woke up.

sunghoon sat in the sterile hospital room, his body aching from the hours he had spent perched on the edge of your bed, his eyes never leaving your still form. the steady beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound, a constant reminder that you were alive. but in some ways, you had already slipped away. he held your hand, his thumb brushing over your cold skin as if he could transfer the warmth of his love into you through touch. but it never worked.

the harsh hospital lights felt like they were closing in on him, their cold glare a sharp contrast to the soft warmth that had settled between him and you over the years. your eyes fluttered open, blinking as though you were still trapped in the fog of sleep. at first, he thought it was just another moment of consciousness, another brief flicker of awareness before you slipped back into the darkness.

but then you looked at him.

then, you had blinked slowly, confused, your eyes drifting across the room. your gaze never settled on him with warmth. not with affection. you didn’t even seem to notice the familiar face sitting by your side, the hands that had held you for so long, through all the arguments, the rejections, the coldness that you had never apologized for.

your eyes remained dull, vacant, as if you were waking from some distant dream, only to realize you had no idea where you were, or who was standing at your side.

"hey, it’s me," sunghoon had whispered, his voice breaking, trembling. he had felt his heart constrict painfully in his chest, his hands shaking as he reached for yours, desperate to make you feel loved. "i’ve been here… i’ve always been here for you. the whole time.”

but when you looked at him, it was like you were looking at a stranger. your face was blank, your eyes empty. and then, just when his chest tightened with the growing weight of fear, you asked a question that shattered him entirely.

“where’s my mom?” you said, your voice soft, distant.

his heart stopped. the world around him blurred.

your mother. sunghoon’s throat went dry. his pulse sped up, panic seizing him. he could feel the world start to crumble around him, the pain swallowing him whole.

"where is she?" you asked again, your voice more insistent, the emptiness in your tone turning to something else now, something deeper. "are you a doctor? i want to see her. why isn’t she here? she has to know i’m okay, i don’t want her to worry." you spoke, urging him, not even asking why you were in a hospital bed.

it had been years. years since she died, right before your graduation. years since you stood in front of the casket, holding his hand, eyes brimming with tears. he had been there for you when your world had fallen apart, when the grief had swallowed you whole, even if you’d known him for such a small amount of time. that had been the only instance he had seen you let your emotions out around him. the only time he had seen you actually care for someone. and now, she was gone, for the second time.

sunghoon’s stomach dropped as he realized it.

you didn’t remember her death. you didn’t remember how hard you had cried that day, how the world had felt like it had fallen apart when you stood alone. now you were asking where she was as if she were just gone for the day. as if your whole heart hadn’t crumbled the day you lost her.

and the worst part? you were asking the question, but you weren’t asking him, the one person who had been there for you, to help you understand. you were asking him like he was a stranger, a figure in the background.

his heart squeezed painfully as his breath hitched in his throat. “y/n…” his voice cracked, but he forced himself to continue, his eyes welling with tears. "she’s gone. your mom… she’s been gone for so long. i’m sorry. i’m so sorry, but she’s… she’s never coming back."

at that, something in you seemed to break.

something raw. your lips trembled as your gaze dropped, and your hands began to shake slightly. it was the second time he had seen any sign of emotion from you. your expression hardened for a moment, then softened, and before sunghoon could react, the first tear slipped from your eye.

he watched, in stunned silence, as the single drop fell, and then another followed, and another. and then, your body trembled, your chest heaving as a deep, broken sob escaped you. the sound broke him, cracked through the shell of numbness that had been surrounding you, and in an instant, you were crying, completely unraveling in front of him.

you didn’t remember the pain you’d gone through when she left you. but the truth of it, the horror of knowing your mother was gone, hit you with a brutal force now.

sunghoon stood frozen, his heart breaking in his chest as he watched you collapse into grief, your body shaking violently with sobs. the sight of it tore through him. the rawness of your sorrow was more real than anything.

you were grieving her all over again. you were grieving her, but this time, you were alone. even if you hadn’t cared about him, he was still there. now, he was a complete nobody to you.

sunghoon’s hand hovered, trembling, over your shoulder, desperate to offer some kind of comfort, some reassurance. but he hadn’t expected what happened next.

as his fingers brushed against your skin, you flinched violently, pulling away from him as though his touch burned. your body jerked in a sharp, panicked movement, your breath quickening as if he had just committed some unspeakable betrayal.

"don't fucking touch me!" you screamed, your voice raw, frantic, full of a sudden, terrifying rage that sunghoon wasn’t prepared for. "what did you do to her? what did you do to my mommy?!" you looked like a little kid, lost in a store, full of despair, alone, abandoned.

the words cut through the room like a blade, the accusation hanging in the air like a toxic cloud. sunghoon recoiled instinctively, the weight of your words crashing over him, leaving him stunned, speechless. he could barely process the intensity of your pain, the sheer volume of the fury radiating from you.

you were trembling, your eyes wide with fear, with anger, tears streaming down your face as you turned away from him, trying to scramble back in the bed, as though the very sight of him made your skin crawl.

"tell me what you did!" your voice cracked, jagged with despair and confusion. "what did you do to her? why did you, why did you let her go?!”

it was as though a switch had flipped inside you, a madness born from your trauma, your loss. you had lost your memories, but you were still trapped in the suffocating grief of a daughter who couldn't comprehend the finality of death. the very foundation of your identity was crumbling. and now, in this panic-stricken haze, sunghoon became the focal point of all your rage, all your hurt.

"why isn’t she here?" you clawed at the sheets, your hands shaking with the intensity of your breakdown. "where is she? i need her! now! what did you do?!”

your voice echoed in the sterile room, the frantic energy in your words tearing at the walls, until the room felt too small for the fury you unleashed. you were looking at him now, not with any recognition, but with venom, as if he had been the one to tear your world apart.

sunghoon stood frozen, his heart hammering in his chest. it was a punch he hadn’t expected. the weight of your accusations landing on him with suffocating force. he opened his mouth to speak, to explain, but the words wouldn’t come. how could he explain that you didn’t even remember your mother’s death? how could he make you understand that he wasn’t the one who had taken her from you?

his eyes welled up with fresh tears, but he bit his lip to hold them back, shaking his head desperately. "y/n, please. i didn’t do anything. i’m not, i never hurt her," he said, his voice cracking with the weight of his own sorrow. he didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to calm you, how to help you make sense of the pain that was consuming you.

but the words didn’t reach you. you weren’t listening anymore. the madness in your eyes was too much, too overwhelming, and your voice only grew louder, more frantic.

"you’re lying! you’re lying to me!" you screamed, pulling at your hair, your face contorted in anguish. "you’re trying to cover it up! you’re lying! you’re lying!"

the madness in your eyes was suffocating, and sunghoon felt helpless, absolutely powerless to do anything but watch as you spiraled, consumed by grief and fear. you don’t remember her, but you remember the pain. you remember the loss. and now you’re looking for someone to blame.

the room felt smaller, air thinner, suffocating. he wanted to reach for you again, to hold you, to tell you that he hadn’t done anything to hurt you or your mother, but you were too lost, too far gone in the grip of your overwhelming grief. he took a step forward, but before he could get any closer, the door to the room flew open.

several doctors rushed in, their voices immediately cutting through the madness.

"we need to sedate her," one of them said urgently, his face a mask of professional concern. it was jungwon’s father. "she’s going into a severe emotional breakdown. we need to calm her down now before she hurts herself."

"no!" you screamed, your voice cracking with pure terror as the doctors tried to gently restrain you, to keep you from thrashing about. "don’t touch me! don’t touch me! just being my mommy please! i need her! what’s happening?!" you begged, being ignored constantly.

the doctors moved quickly, efficiently, as they administered an injection to calm you down. you screamed for a moment longer, your body still writhing beneath their hold, but the sedative began to take effect almost immediately. your breathing slowed, your cries turned into soft sobs, and the frantic movements of your body slowed to a near-stillness.

sunghoon stood in the corner of the room, numb, his entire body frozen as he watched the scene unfold. his hands shook violently at his sides, his chest tight with a crushing weight of despair. you were no longer the girl he had once known. you were a stranger, lost in a storm of confusion and grief, and there was nothing he could do to bring you back.

the doctor turned to him then, their expression sympathetic, but firm. "she’s experiencing severe memory loss due to the trauma of the accident. we’ll need to run more tests, but she’s clearly in distress. she’s reliving her grief, and it’s manifesting in these violent outbursts. her mind is trying to make sense of what’s happened, but she can’t understand it. she’s lost."

sunghoon’s knees buckled, and he sank into the nearest chair, his head falling into his hands as fresh tears poured down his face.

you didn’t remember him. you didn’t remember your mother. if you didn’t remember both. there was no one else in your life. you were completely alone.

you were lost.

you were slipping away from him, piece by piece, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. because you would have never let him. he didn’t care if he was important enough to be remembered, that didn’t matter anymore.

the room had gone eerily silent, the only sounds the soft beeping of machines and the faint rustling of the doctors movements. sunghoon could barely breathe through the suffocating weight of the situation. he had always known that losing you would break him, but he hadn’t realized how completely it would shatter him until now.

his eyes were fixed on you, still lying in the bed, sedated now, but your face was a mask of innocence, frozen in that moment of pure loss. you looked so young, so fragile.

the doctors were still in the room, their voices quiet but filled with a clinical understanding that sunghoon could barely grasp.

“she’s in an acute state of dissociative amnesia,” doctor yang explained, looking at the chart in his hands, speaking to sunghoon but also to the team around them. “it’s not uncommon with traumatic injuries like the ones she sustained in the accident. but we’re also seeing something else.”

sunghoon’s gaze flickered to the familiar doctor, confused and lost in a fog of grief. his throat was tight, his mind struggling to make sense of what was happening. “what else?” he whispered hoarsely, his voice broken.

“the trauma to her brain has caused a significant regression,” the doctor continued, his voice softening slightly, as if trying to cushion the blow. “she’s reverted back to her mental state from when she was in her senior year possibly. she’s essentially lost a part of herself. emotionally and cognitively, she’s been pulled back to that time. before all of this. before everything that’s happened in the last few years.”

sunghoon felt his chest tighten at the words. senior year? back to senior year? the words felt like a cruel joke, a twisting knife in the very heart of his memory.

“how is that even possible?” he asked weakly, his voice trembling. “how could she… forget everything? how could she forget me?… scratch that, she doesn’t even remember her mother.”

doctor yang gave a slow nod, clearly understanding the pain in sunghoon’s voice. "it’s common in cases of severe trauma," he explained. "in some cases, the mind protects itself by essentially 'erasing' the time that feels too painful. for her, that means the death of her mother, and perhaps… everything that came after. it’s as if she’s rewound the clock, mentally returning to that phase in her life. the person she was when she was 17."

sunghoon couldn’t move. he couldn’t think. his world had just collapsed in on itself.

“her emotional development since that time is disconnected,” the doctor continued gently. “she’s essentially stuck in that version of herself. the girl she was before all the trauma, before the grief of losing her mother, before all the years you two have spent together. she may not even remember who you are, or if she does, it might be as some vague figure from her past, someone she used to know.”

the words felt like they were smothering sunghoon. his heart pounded in his chest as the doctor’s voice seemed to echo in his head. the girl she was when she was 17.

that girl, the one who had barely spoken to him beyond pleasantries, the one who had brushed him off time and time again, the one who didn’t seem to see him for the years he spent loving her. that girl who knew he would walked behind her every day.

a sudden coldness washed over him. there was a difference between you at this age, and you in high school. back when you were 17, you were an emotional wreck, everyone’s feelings were a game to you. and even if you still had some of those traits now, no amount of mean comments would take away the years he had been by your side.

“is there any chance she’ll come back?” sunghoon’s voice cracked with the question. the word ‘come back’ felt like the ultimate lie on his lips. come back from what? as if you were totally different to him.

the doctor looked at him with sad, tired eyes. "it’s difficult to say. memory loss from trauma like this is unpredictable. she may remember parts of her past, pieces of her life, or she may not. but it's important to understand that right now... she’s not the person she was. she’s stuck in a moment of her life that’s far behind, and all the years since then. your relationship, her grief, everything. are inaccessible to her. it’s like waking up from a dream and finding that nothing has changed, that you’re still in the same place you were before."

sunghoon’s stomach twisted painfully as the words settled in, cold and harsh. you didn’t remember anything. from the years that had passed. your mother’s death. your shared time together. your love, his love for you.

and now, you were a ghost from the past, frozen at the moment when everything had seemed relatively simpler, when your heart hadn’t yet been broken by life, when the world had yet to show you how much pain it could cause. the girl you had once been, so egoistic, so unknowing. and yet, somehow, so much more alive than the hollow shell of yourself that lay before him now.

sunghoon let his head fall into his hands, his whole body shaking with silent sobs. how did we get here? why is this happening? he had fought for you for so long. he had been there when no one else was. he had endured your coldness, your indifference, always telling himself that one day, you would realize.

but now, standing in this sterile room, staring at the broken version of you who couldn’t even remember her own mother, he wondered if he was even real to you anymore.

you were lost to him. and in so many ways, he had lost you long before the crash. but this was a pain unlike anything he had ever felt. you had always been distant, but now, you were gone entirely, unable to see him as the one who had loved you, as the one who had held you when you cried, as the one who had always been there.

"you don’t remember me," sunghoon whispered to himself, as if speaking the words would somehow make them less true. "you don’t remember anything. you’re just... gone."

the doctor’s words seemed to fade into the background as sunghoon stood there, overwhelmed by a wave of emotion so deep it almost consumed him. you had finally slipped away, and there was nothing left of the person he had loved so desperately.

and for the first time, he realized that even if you woke up, even if you remembered, even if you somehow found your way back to him. it wouldn’t change the fact that you never once felt love for him.

the sun was gentle, casting soft golden rays through the canopy of a massive tree. its branches reached wide, stretching into the sky as if welcoming the warmth of the spring day. the ground was dotted with delicate flowers, the air crisp with the scent of new life, the kind of serenity that only spring could offer. you were sitting underneath that tree, the soft breeze playing with the hem of your dress, your fingers grazing the grass beneath you. everything felt still, yet alive. an ethereal peace wrapped around you like a gentle hug.

your heart felt light, unburdened by the heaviness of the world, untouched by time. you had forgotten where you were or what had come before, but you felt a warmth that seemed to seep into your very bones. for a moment, everything made sense.

then, a rustling came from the tall, golden plants that stretched in a field before you. your breath caught in your throat.

the air shifted, the breeze growing stronger as you stood, your eyes scanning the distance. through the swaying plants, a figure emerged, small and bounding toward you. it was a dog, running full speed, its fur glistening like gold in the sunlight. a wave of joy crashed over you as you recognized him.

tudor.

your childhood dog, the one who had followed you everywhere when you were young, with his golden locks, warm eyes, and boundless love. he had always known how to make you feel safe, even when the world seemed too big, too overwhelming.

tudor reached you in a blur of motion. his paws landed gently on your chest as he jumped into your arms, licking your face with affection, as if greeting you after years of absence. tears welled in your eyes as you hugged him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. it had been so long, you had forgotten how his presence could make you feel so loved, so at home. though you had felt something similar to that love.

and then, another figure appeared.

a woman walked slowly toward you, her steps measured, graceful, as if the earth itself was cradling her. she had the same complexion as you, the same soft glow to her skin, but she was older, more radiant, as though she had lived many lives in her time. her eyes, those eyes, locked with yours, full of love, of understanding. she was so much like you, yet so different.

it was like looking into a mirror, yet seeing someone far more complete than you could ever feel. she was so full of life, so warm, so alive.

“mom?” the word slipped from your lips like a prayer, and she smiled, soft, peaceful, as though she had been waiting for this moment.

“mom!” you stepped toward her, your heart thundering, tears pooling in your eyes. it wasn’t just the joy of seeing her again, but the relief, the sense of home that flooded through you. you couldn’t stop yourself. you dropped to your knees and threw your arms around her, burying your face in her chest. she held you tight, her arms wrapping around you like the most familiar embrace. it was as though all the years of longing, of missing her, had vanished in that instant. you had finally come home.

you felt something delicate in her hands, and she gently placed a white rose in your hair. you giggled, the sound light and free, as though the burden of the world had been lifted from your shoulders. everything was perfect here, warmth, love, family.

but then, more figures appeared, joining the two of you. your father, grandparents, aunts, uncles. all there, gathered around you, their faces full of warmth, their eyes full of love. they surrounded you, welcoming you into something new, so full of love, full of peace, full of home.

you closed your eyes, the sense of belonging overwhelming you. this was where you were meant to be. this was the place you had always been searching for.

everything grew still. the warmth faded, replaced by the coldness of reality.

“you’re still so close, but yet so far…”

sunghoon was kneeling at a grave. his hands trembled as he placed a bouquet of white roses down on the ground, his eyes red from crying, his body heavy with grief. he didn’t understand why life had been so cruel to him. he had loved you, loved you with everything he had. but it had never been enough.

you hadn’t loved him. you had forgotten him, lost yourself to time and trauma. and then, when things seemed to be getting better, complications had taken you away from him, too soon, too violently. sunghoon stared at the gravestone, his fingers brushing the cold stone.

but then, he realized something, the weight of it crashing over him. he wasn’t angry. he wasn’t bitter. he was simply thankful.

you had found peace. you had found your mother again, found your way back to the ones who truly loved you. that was all that mattered. you were free of the pain. you could finally rest.

because after all this time, he will always love you more than you could yourself. that was his goal, and he was happy that he did his best to show you love.

and then, there was you. you were looking down at him. from wherever you were, you could see his grief, feel the weight of it in your chest. but more than that, you could feel the love. the love you had always felt for him, that you had always known was there. you loved him so much. more than you had ever known. he was enough for you, more than it.

but you had pushed him away. because you couldn’t bear to see him suffer as you had. you didn’t want him to be dragged down the path of destruction, not like you had. you didn’t want him to drown in the pain of loving someone who couldn’t show any emotion beyond anger back, who had been broken beyond repair.

you had to let him go. even if it tore you apart, you had to let him go. for his sake. because you did love him.

perhaps, one day, you would reunite. and when that time came, he wouldn’t be a stranger to you anymore. you would remember everything. the love, the pain, the mistakes, and the healing. and when that day came, you would hold him again, this time knowing how deeply you had always loved him.

and so, with a quiet sigh, you let yourself rest, knowing that he would be okay. because, somewhere in your heart, you knew that love would find its way back to you, whenever the time was right.

MASTERLIST.

BTW: um. so yeah….

[rikiislvr]

unavailable . 2 - nishimura riki

pairing: afab!reader x nishimura riki

summary: fresh out a relationship with a heavy heart, niki seeks comfort in his best friend, not knowing you were falling for him

warnings: cussing

ps. read part 1 if you’d like! :)

the next morning, you woke up first, looking down, you seen niki laid against your arm, dried tears stained his face, you couldn’t help but feel horrible for him.

you were knocked out of your thoughts from the sound of his phone buzzing on your nightstand, you reach over just incase it was his parents,

but no… it was ivy.

- 3 unread messages -

vy <3 : niki? it’s morning now.. can you reply?

vy <3 : i’m sry i ended things that way, i meant to do it sooner!

vy <3: pls can u call me?

you couldn’t help but scoff at the messages, you cared about ivy, but you would’ve never expected for her to do what she did, you were hoping there was a truly valid reason on why she ended things off 5 months into the relationship…

you look down as you felt niki shuffle in his sleep, his eyes fluttering open, he blinked softly before looking up at you,

“was that my phone going on?” he mumbled, you nod and handed him his phone, he read the screen and sighed, putting his phone down on the bed and laying his head back down on your arm.

“don’t force yourself to reply. it’s bullshit ki..” you reassure, he nods, “i just don’t know why.. she wouldn’t tell me when i asked.” he sighs, “what actually happened?” you say.

he sat up, making you sit up too, his pushed his hair back before clearing his throat, “we were walking in the empty park after we got dinner.. it was going fine, she was smiling and… i was laughing. we were holding hands. suddenly a change in her energy was shown..”

you tilt your head,

“she suddenly stopped walking and.. told me she didn’t wanna hurt me but.. she couldn’t do this relationship anymore. i tried to ask for more of an explanation but she let go of my hand and ran home..” he sighs.

you couldn’t help but shake your head, niki felt tears forming in his eyes again, “don’t cry ki… i’m so sorry.” you frowned, “how about we do something today? get your mind off things?” you try,

he nods slowly, wiping his eyes, you sighed again, you couldn’t handle seeing him this way, you quickly got up, “alright. you have to sneak out my window, go home and get cleaned up and come back, we’ll go do something fun okay!” you smiled, trying to break the sad barrier.

he chuckled at your consideration, he nods and got up, you helped him out your window before turning to your bathroom to get ready.

-

you were waiting for niki to ring the doorbell downstairs, wearing a white skirt and a pretty pink sweater, you grabbed your bag before you heard the doorbell,

you quickly ran downstairs to see your mom opened the door already,

“niki! it’s nice to see you, i’m assuming you’re here for y/n?” she says, niki nods, your mom steps aside as you walk up to him, “hey,” you smile, “hi.” he replied,

your mom chuckled before closing the door, “okay so, where are we going?” niki cleared his throat. “sh! let me surprise you, you’re gonna have to put this on when we get somewhat close.” you pull out a bandana to cover his eyes.

he chuckled and rubbed his neck, “alright then.” he nods.

-

on the bus, you two got a couple of weird stares due to him having on a bandana, but you brushed it off and dragged him off the bus when the stop arrived.

“i just tripped over so many people’s feet..” niki groaned as the bus took off, you two stood outside your favorite childhood spot.

it was a pretty park, a nice trail with so many flowers, and of course, the bench you two always sat on to do everything.

you lead him over to the bench, it still had the painted hand marks on the seats.

one pink hand mark, and one blue hand mark, you smiled to yourself. you two haven’t been here since highschool started, due to how much you’ve been busy.

“y/nnn.. take this off of me nowww.” he groaned again, you chuckled, “go on.” you smile,

he removed the bandana with ease, blinking to adjust to the world again, his eyes drifted around the familiar surroundings, and down at the bench. he smiled softly.

“gosh. we haven’t been here in so long.” he says softly, you nod, he aligned his hand to his old hand mark, which didn’t fit since his hands grew a lot from when you two were young.

you giggled and aligned your hand to your smaller hand print too, “damn, we’ve grown haven’t we.”

“i’m shocked no one’s painted over it or.. scraped it off.” he chuckled and sat down on his side, you sat beside him, “they better not! or we’ll just redo it.” you shrug,

niki chuckled to himself, he looked around, you couldn’t help but stare at him, the wind blew his bangs away from his eyes, giving you a better access to his full face, you couldn’t help but smile.

you felt so bad.

his heart was pure gold. it hurt to see him like this, you knew he was trying to put a smile on around you but, deep down you knew his heart was breaking..

him and ivy have been dating since freshmen year, you guys are seniors now.. so you can only imagine how bad this must be on him.

suddenly he looked down, and before you knew it.. he burst into tears.

your heart breaks.. literally.

“oh.. ki.” you frown and pull him in your arms, he sobbed softly in your shoulder, you closed your eyes at the sounds of his crying.

“i’m sorry..” you whisper, suddenly he lifts his head back up, looking at you with teary eyes, tears streaming down his face.

you instantly wiped the tears from his cheeks, sucking in your lips in guilt. “i should’ve waited until i got you out huh?” you chuckled awkwardly.

“no..” he shook his head, “i’m glad you did actually.. i feel…” he cut himself off..

“i feel complete being back here again.” he smiled, you smiled back at him, “ki?” you call, he raised an eyebrow softly,

“you know i’m always here for you? even if we grow up and.. meet other people. you’ll always hold your spot in my heart.” you reassure, he smiled softly and shifted himself,

he laid his head on your shoulder as you two stare out to the flowers.

he didn’t say anything, but you didn’t need him too.

you look down at him, you admired his face, his faint freckles, the way his hair laid on his forehead so nicely.

for some odd reason.. you felt your heart flutter, you quickly looked away..

no.. you can’t catch feelings for your literal best friend, especially when he’s fresh out a relationship. he needs a shoulder to lean on, not a new problem.

you cleared your throat, “should we go get ice cream? that always cheered us up.” you say, he nods and stood up slowly, lending his hand out for you.

you hesitate, niki noticed and tilts his head slightly, you clear your throat again and grab his hand before lifting yourself up.

“lead the way” you say, he nods slowly and you two began to walk in a comfortable silence.

you thought to yourself.. get yourself together.

now’s not the time.

a/n: so do i keep continuing this ooorrrrr lmk !

taglist : @certified-ni-ki-lover @noblub-4ulolz @yourmyst4r @vixialuvs @ni-ki-ismyluv @judeduartewannabe @soobs-things @en-chantedtomeetyou @definitelynotherr @heyniki @wntersm @geniejunn @pkjay @baevsxii @k1ttylvr @geniejunn @pkjay @chaevibes @jiyeons-closet @bananna-12

[slightly-sigilant]

I feel like the thing that the Fallen London fandom knows me for is Correspondence, and indeed, I love the squiggles. But in truth, the part of the setting I think about most is Parabola, the world behind the mirror. The land of the Is-Not; the realm of dreams.

I've had some flavor of chronic fatigue throughout my life. Without getting into the gruesome details, no doctor in a decade-plus of searching has been able to diagnose or treat it. At this point, I've more or less moved on to trying to accept it, work around it, and not linger on the looming dread I feel whenever I think about being disabled in This Society We Live In. I'm fortunate enough to have a remote job, one that mostly tolerates me working weird hours and sneaking off now and then to nap, so my days are something like a patchwork. Irregular swaths are cut from my life for sleep, and for lying in bed trying to muster up my energy, with the things that I need to do packed into the periods in-between, the precious moments where I feel well and truly awake.

At some point, I decided that if sleep was going to take up over half my life, I might as well make the most of it. I wouldn't call myself an expert on dreams - I've read Some websites on lucid dreaming, and One (1) book. But I do have vivid dreams on the regular, and I try to engage with them with my own particular means.

(It looks something like this: I let myself sink, and then, at a place between waking and dreaming, I float. I focus on my childhood room - a place my dreams have taken me, again and again, as of late. I brush my fingers along the walls, asking them to keep the terrors out, rather than trap me within. I speak to the ghosts that haunt this memory-place, inviting them to truce, to rest. I remember my present - of being an adult in a household that respects and cares for me - and breathe it into my past. With luck, the next time my dreams take me here, this place will be a sanctuary, not a prison.

Or like this: holding still, careful and quiet, in the moments before a dream dissipates. This one had been suffused with a powerful, yet curious melancholy. I hold onto the feeling as best as I can, studying the curves of its sorrow, the angles of its longing. I realize that it is a feeling I have taught myself to no longer feel in the waking world. The realization cuts, like a scalpel.)

It started as a necessity. A tendency to have nightmares doesn't mesh well with a life riddled with opportunities to have them. But it also became a quiet passion. Small wonder that it would be Parabola that would be my hook into Fallen London's world. While I only became an active player a year ago, I spent much longer than that reading the wiki. I remember combing through Wikidot for every scrap that I could on the mirror-realm and its inhabitants. I remember being elated to find out that you could become a Silverer (or "Glassman," as they were once called) and that you could set up a Parabolan Base-Camp of your very own. When I made Lukas, my current main, I planned for him to become a Silverer. His character arc took him down the path of a Correspondent, but Rafael would take up the cosmogone spectacles instead.

My readings are not the only valid ones, of course. But it never appealed to me to treat Parabola as just a wacky otherworld, and the Fingerkings as just sinister. My personal experience has been that dream logic is logic, something to work with rather than against, shown respect rather than bullied into submission. It is reciprocal - in order to shape my dreams, I allow myself to be shaped in return. They yearn and I yearn; I feed them and they feed me; we move together in ever-shifting dance.

This is the kind of perspective I try to weave into my interpretations of Parabola. I would like them to live somewhere other than just in my head, and I've thought at some point of creating some kind of compendium of My Personal Parabolan Headcanons. But that format doesn't really sit right with me - it's a vibe, not a set of rules. I think I would like to write some kind of playable fan-Exceptional Story, but it's really hard to beat the feeling that It Has To Be Perfect. The perils of writing about something that you're passionate about, I guess.

For now, I daydream and I doodle and sometimes I inflict my thoughts on my friends via Discord. But someday! Someday.

[sluttiebabydoll]

GO TO SLEEP

pairing; bio brother!rafe cameron x reader

summary;  you make the mistake of asking your brother to take care of your while you’re sick, but you only relaise how dire the consequences will be when it’s too late

content; incest, drugging, noncon

authors note; i needed to write something like this again...

you’re splayed out on your bed, sheets all tangled around your cold sweaty body. you’re ridden with a horrid cold. you feel like crap. with your parents away and nobody else in the house, the responsibility to look after you falls to your brother rafe.

you have to hand it to him, he’s been treating you oddly nice all day. he went out to get what you needed, sat with you for hours, even through one of those girly movies he hates, apparently just to make you happy. 

at the moment he’s downstairs fetching you a tylenol so that you can be relieved enough to go to sleep as it’s late. he’s been a while, but you don’t put your mind on it, just assuming he had taken on another small task as well as the medicine fetching. 

when he finally arrives back you sigh with relief, “thought you’d forgotten about me.” you chuckle, voice all nasal and sick. rafe chuckles back, approaching the bed. 

“could never forget about you,” he smiles, sitting on the edge of the bed as you sit up and passing you a glass of water and two pills. “these should help you go to sleep.” he tells you. 

you take the pills one by one, washing them down with a sip of water. when you’re finished you pass the glass back to him and he places it down on the bedside table. you smile with satisfaction, “thanks rafe.” 

he stands up, “course lil sis,” he says, “you gimme a call if you need anything okay.” he smiles a little too sweetly before turning and leaving the room. 

over the next five minutes, things get weird. suddenly you’re in a cold sweat again, and your vision is becoming all messed up, everything around you seems distorted and out of shape and confusing. your brain feels like it’s not working fast enough for your thoughts and it’s making you dizzy. something is wrong. 

in the mess of new sensations you manage to call out a wobbly : “rafe!”. he immediately enters as though he’d been waiting outside the door. his figure is blurry and distorted but something feels wrong about him. 

he looms over you in a way that makes you feel even more unsettled. he’s speaking but you can’t hear it, your ears have gone too, the sound of his voice is nothing but an incoherent muffle. 

“rafe,” you whimper desperately, “somethings wrong with me i– i don’t know what’s happening.” you feel scared, you don’t know what kind of a trick your body is playing on you. 

his voice gets a little closer and you can just about make out what he’s saying, “shhhh,” he whispers in your ear, “just relax. everything is going to be okay.” you can feel the presence of his hands on your body now, one of them is rubbing your shoulder and the other one is moving down your side. 

your eyelids are getting heavy and it feels like your nerve endings are giving up, you can hardly feel anything anymore. everything you process is delayed, the sound of his voice, the feeling of him touching you, pulling at your clothes. 

he’s pulling at your clothes, pulling them off. he’s touching you, touching you there. you whimper when it fully dawns on you. you immediately try to get your body to react but it’s hard. 

your movements are weak as you try to push him off, but your arms barely move and the moment they do he pins them down, “shhhh… don’t fight it. just go to sleep.” you try kicking your legs but he holds them down too, and soon he doesn’t need to. 

your body is weakening, vision darkening, sensation lessening. it’s all going dark, and your last thought before you fall unconscious is, oh no, how could you not see this coming.

[kaiserouo]

Internationalisation is so crazy

You need to learn and talk in this specific language to be able to communicate with most people

Most people are so far from you you have to consider timezones and how many hours people are away from you

Sometimes it still feels weird to me and i suddenly cant take this for granted for some reason

[bluesey-182]

my husband falls asleep before i do so i usually go to the living room to read or watch tv but now im terrified to leave him alone in the room at night for any amount of time because he keeps waking up to something in the bed that looks like me and he thinks is me until he gets up for whatever reason and finds the real me in the other room and when he goes back to the bedroom the thing is gone. but last night the thing was talking to him and i asked him if it sounds like me and he said "it sounded a little different but i thought it was because you were tired". like what the FUCK is in my house. and how do I make it stop. also idk if this is worth noting but both times our dog was in the room with him and had no reaction

[icelogged]

hello one more bitch for the road 😔✌🏾terf is not a synonym for transphobe. terf is an acronym. tme trans people can be terfs. next scheduled bitchfest is between me our heavenly father amen or to annoy you specifically ❤️

[thethingything]

had to lay down. woke up at nearly 7am. got overwhelmed by our sleep schedule once again being fucked because yesterday we actually went to bed at roughly the right time and thought "oh this is great we've fixed it". decided that we're just gonna deal with it and it'll be fine. and then our brain decided that no actually we're gonna have a combination of emotions that's maybe gonna give me another breakdown if I can't figure out how to deal with them but I have no fucking clue what to do with them

[isa-ah]

been having some creepy stuff happen lately and who knows if it's paranormal or PTSD related ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

[phagodyke]

istg one of these days.......

[gatorinator]

Can God translate me. Just for like 3-5 business days. I just need a little break—I’ll come back I promise.

[itsalwaysdark]

ome day i will be so normal

[lunar-fey]

so. the new adhd med now that i am on a normal starting dose and actually feeling it at all. it doesn't quite feel like i have adhd^2 like the other one did. like that one felt not dissimilar to a manic episode. was not great. THIS one though is like........i still feel like i have a lot of thoughts and a lot to say and gotta GO. but i also am finding it easier to stop or start or change directions. basically...........what if i was just a chatter the whole time but my brain was too fucked...............

[adrianastrix]

Just something I was thinking amidst all the reblogs, but I'm so grateful that not only I was raised in a spiritist household, but it was a household that didn't bother going to spiritist centres to have a more "traditional religion" experience. My parents took very seriously the "we don't need temples and rituals" part of the deal and let me learn about it through the original books (as hard as they should be to a child, but I was a particularly nerdy one who wasn't intimidated by big words).

Lots of the beliefs that kept my mind open to diversity and tolerance as I grew up and that allowed me to accept most unique things about myself came from those quiet afternoons reading about spirits, spiritual worlds, reincarnations and such.

"Spirits don't really have a biology, let alone a biological sex, and they reincarnate in any body, any country, any race, any social status, so you can learn as much as possible about being human." -> This central tennet of our version of reincarnation pretty much set me up to never feel that birth circumstances are anything to be proud or ashamed about, and I even predicted trans people existed before my country bumpkin butt actually heard about them in real life. After all, it's only normal that,after a few reincarnations in a kind of body, you will feel weird being in a different one.

In fact, child me was really at peace with the idea of being a man in past reincarnations and not really getting what being a woman is about, but being willing to explore and learn, as well as being in a process of not giving that much meaning to transient identities linked to a physical body, and it's still the best description of my gender identity (while the best shorthand might be the Twilightian identity of the galactic system - partial alignment to masc, fem and none).

Child me also never understood social hierarchies, and if you can reincarnate as pretty much anything, what's the point to be all high and mighty about someone that can be your boss in the next life? Better work on making friends and having more abilities, so you can relearn them faster in the next one, screw money, status or petty quibbles over what the other thinks about you or your tastes.

And this weird immortality by pieces, in which you die and have to learn to shed this fixed identity of your last life to be your whole immortal self, live a little like this, get the nead of being reborn for several reasons, and goes back to build a new self to learn new things and do new jobs made me patient with myself (there's always next one, no need to rush our present experiences), but also eager to get as much as I can from any particular life, because my whole being might be immortal, but this small part of myself is just that - a small part of myself. Once I die, this particular identity will slowly integrate with the sum of my experiences and I'll feel differently about a lot of things. Life is still a brief, beautiful moment and I should make the most of the experiences I have to build who I want to be and bring that back to the sources that next me will have to navigate this big mysterious cosmos.

The only thing that will remain will be the memories I forged and the connections I made with other living beings, so those things are more precious and worth cherishing than anything. It is simply not worth it to isolate yourself over money or social clout, since those things fade so quickly that you might lose them before you even die.

I know all that sound deep and wise and inspirational, but it was just what child me read in those 19th century books and took to heart as facts so simple and obvious that I never really felt the need to question them. To this day, my general stance on spiritism is that I believe it, but if it turns out to be no real, not only I'll be too dead and non-existent to care that it wasn't real, but I will have died with better mental health than I would have if I didn't believe in it, so it's worth it.

--

(Also, I'm grateful that reading about spirits from so early in my childhood made me so used to the idea of them being everywhere that I seriously don't get what's so scary about it. Why does everyone stop their horror stories at the point that they investigated a sound or a passing shadow and saw their grandma who died? Did you hate your grandma in life? Was she doing something bad or scary? Wouldn't you prefer it to be your grandma who you loved instead of a total stranger? Why haven't you talked with her, don't people always want to meet their loved ones who died again? Why squander the chance?? And if you saw a spirit crying, why didn't you offer it some comfort? I mean, what do you think a crying person who can't even touch you will do?? Just talk to them or ask your spirit buddies to do it, the poor thing might not even know they are dead already.

I absolutely love the fact that this my unfiltered thought process to any paranormal-related phenomenon, and it took me so long to understand that people were unironically afraid of sounds and shadows being caused by spirits and not, you know, thieves or something.)