#i would have colored these but i am not in the headspace for that thanks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vase-of-lilies · 6 months

Text

His Sister's Keepers

Paring: Mommy!Wanda Maximoff x Little!Barnes!Reader (f) x Mama!Natasha Romanoff (Bucky Barnes x Sister!Reader - not romantic at all)

Warnings: Forced Age regression, this is a dark AU, Reader is in little space when she meets Bucky again — but goes back to adult space later in the fic, faking readers death, angry bucky, drugging (use of Rohypnol), long car ride, profanity, mentions of a suicide letter, and other warnings. Do not proceed if any of these matters upset you.

Request: How does Bucky react to his sister Tiny Reader being with Wanda and Nat all along? I love your fics 😭🩷 + Ok but like reader going back to finally see Bucky again dressed in an oversized hoodie with woodland creatures on it and space buns with ribbons in her hair oh and fuzzy socks 😍. Sorry I feel like a bean rn and this sounds so cute (girl literally no problem I love feeling like a smol bean 🥹)

A/N: Thank you for the kind words!! I am SUPER excited to post this one! I think this will be in order after all the drabbles, and then once Bucky finds out we can do more requests with Bucky included:) This was based off of the request, but I took more inspiration from this post!! I really hope you like this:) I also took some of the other requests regarding this story and put them in here:)

Bucky had a feeling you were still alive. You survived once, you would have to survive again. Wanda was good with tricks and visions, so she easily could have shown a hallucination in his brain when he saw your lifeless body on the cold ground in the Hydra base. And Natasha was good at cover-ups. She could easily cover up a death with a simple certificate and funeral since she has covered multiple aliases during her career. She did it for Fury, she could do it for you.

She did take it as far as holding a funeral for you. With Wanda’s magical craft, she made a near-perfect model of your sleeping body to put in the casket. With your [length, color, texture] hair perfectly done, a small dash of makeup on your cheeks, and lastly a beautiful dress to lay you in. But it wasn’t you. Bucky knew it wasn’t you. Your hair was just slightly less [hair color] than it usually was, your nose was just a millimeter off, and your top lip was slightly smaller than before.

One might think that it would just be the “dying process,” and everything on a dead body looks deflated or off. However, your older brother has known you for one hundred and seven (107) years and the Y/n in the casket was not the same Y/n he knew all his life. The body he was looking down at looked uncanny. Trying to be human, but failing so miserably.

Bucky’s room was filled with pictures of you and him from when you were younger, all the way to when you both became Avengers. Your smile was what kept him going every day you were gone. Six (6) months, four (4) days, fourteen (14) hours, and twenty-six (26) minutes. All this time he had been looking for you, trying to find any sign of life outside the compound for you.

Bucky was suspicious of Wanda and Natasha since they both had their eyes on you. He knew they wanted to court you, but he would not let them. He knew what Natasha had done, what Wanda had the power to do, and what your sweet and innocent brain would accept as love. Even dangerous love was acceptable love for you, you didn’t mind just as long as you were cared for.

Of course, you were more than cared for with Wanda and Natasha. You were fed, clothed, kept warm, and loved. But in such a wrong way. They turned you into a child reliant on only them. They had no intentions of hurting you when you were in your little or tiny space, only implementing discipline as if for a child. Nothing was permanent, but everything was different when you were in your adult headspace.

On one rainy morning, you woke up in your bigger headspace. No tears, whining, or whimpering were heard from you. You got out of your teddy bear-themed bed and opened your closet to find something comfy that wasn’t bright pink or covered in bunnies or ladybugs and finished getting dressed in the bathroom. You got ready on your own, but since you knew you were not going anywhere, you did not make yourself look “presentable.”

Wanda and Natasha were still asleep when you woke up, so you went to the kitchen to make breakfast. Turning on the radio to a quiet classical music station, you began cooking pancakes, bacon, eggs, and some muffins for lunch. The whole process took no more than two (2) hours, and you even got a second outside on the patio before you decided to wake up your keepers.

Putting two plates filled with food, two cups of orange juice, and a vase of flowers all onto a tray, you walk down the dimly lit hallway to the women's door. Knowing there were only some rules you had to follow when you weren’t in little space, you didn’t knock and just went right in.

The sight you stumbled upon was oddly…sweet. The two women who kidnapped you six (6) months ago, were asleep in each other's arms. Wanda's head lay on Natasha's bare chest, her arm across her belly. Nat’s left arm was around Wanda’s body, and her right hand resting on her shoulder softly. You sigh, not wanting to wake them up just yet knowing that they need rest.

But Natasha could feel your presence. She knew you were awake the moment your eyes opened. Gently, she lays her wife to the side and tucks her back in, looking over at you with a smile. “Good morning, малышка (little one). What do you have there?” She says in a soft voice, her long red-faded-to-white hair brushing over her shoulders.

“Breakfast,” It took a long time for you to become verbal with them after the initial few weeks with them, but you understood what they were willing to do to you to get you to use your words.

“Come here, love, let’s see what you have,” She says with a smile, sitting up against her pillows and wrapping another blanket around her back and shoulders. You approach the bed, the tray only slightly shaking as you get closer.

“I hope pancakes are ok…” You whisper, not wanting to disappoint her.

“Oh little one, this looks delicious. Thank you,” Natasha takes the tray from your hands and sets it in front of her on the bed. Wanda begins to stir at the soft voices around her and she yawns as her eyes open. Her lips pull into a smile as she sees you and you can’t help but return her smile.

“Sweetheart, did you make us breakfast?” Wanda asks, her voice soft yet raspy from just waking up. You nod at her question, scooting onto the end of the bed. Usually, you would be asleep next to them, but you fell asleep the night before in your little space. Tonight you knew would be different though.

As they ate, you allowed them to feed you some of their breakfast too. You told them you had eaten already, and you had, they just wanted to make sure you had enough. They really did love you, and care for you, it was Bucky who was in the way at the compound. He was a protective brother, and you loved that about him.

As the morning went on, Wanda and Natasha helped you with dishes from breakfast, held you as you watched a movie together, and finally in the early afternoon, they had you sit down at the kitchen table to talk to you about something. Your thoughts were frantic as you didn’t know what this conversation was about. Did I do something wrong? Did I not clean the bathroom? Did I say something? Did I not kiss them good morning? (You had) You were calmed by Wanda putting a gentle hand on your thigh from under the table.

“Y/n, you did nothing wrong. Ok?” God damned mind readers… “Watch your language…” She squeezed your thigh a bit tighter and you sheepishly looked at her.

“S-sorry,” You whisper, not wanting to cause any more trouble. But you weren’t in any, as a matter of fact, this talk was going to be filled with good news!

Natasha started the conversation; “You have been here quite a while, and in that time you have voiced how much you miss your brother. I know it, Wanda knows it, Tony knows it, even Bruce knows it. We all know it. So, I think it’s time we let you see him again.”

A flood of emotions filled your system, from the relief of being able to see your brother again, to anger that the two women and many people at the compound kept him from you in the first place. All the way to the sadness of seeing his reaction to what Wanda and Nat turned you into.

You stared at the wooden table in front of you, tears threatening to spill from your widely opened eyes. “How long have I been here?” Your voice quivers, and your head raises to look at the women before you.

“That’s not relevant, lov-” You are quick to cut Natasha off.

“How long have I been here, Natasha?” You repeat your question, your bouncing knee under the table picking up speed. You needed to know how long you have been away from your family, your only family.

Wanda looks at her wife across the table and nods. “About six (6) months.”

You let out a small sigh, and you lean back in your chair, shoving your hands into the pocket of your white sweatshirt. Slowly, you stand from the table but you don’t walk away just yet.

“What does Bucky think happened to me?” You ask, the question aching in the back of your mind since you first got here, and why there hadn’t been anyone looking for you.

Natasha has a blank look on her face, but Wanda has a look flooded with shame and guilt. She knew what she did was wrong, but she loved you all the same.

“He thinks you are dead.” Natasha answers your question after a couple seconds of silence.

A breathy laugh exits your mouth, your hand moving towards your forehead in disbelief. “I- I can’t believe-”

“Baby, can you come sit down?” You listen to Wanda's instructions, moving to sit back at the table with your caregivers.

Tears roll down your cheeks, your voice wavering as you speak, “When do I get to see him?” Wanda smiles as you obey, her hand going to your arm to soothe you.

“We are packing today and leaving early in the morning to go back to the city. How does that sound?” She asks, trying to push you into your smaller head space so you are easier to control. She knows this tactic can work, and you do as well, but you are too uptight.

Excited was an understatement, but ecstatic was an overstatement. You didn’t know how you felt. All you knew was that you were going to see your brother again, but you didn’t know what version of yourself he would see first.

~~~~~~~

After talking with your mommies, they told you they had to work a little bit longer and then they would help you pack. But you didn’t allow them to help. You wanted to pack all of the clothes that kept you in your adult head space—well, you packed what clothes were closest to what an adult would wear with what clothes you had to work with.

It was mostly pink, frilly dresses, teddy bear-themed shirts and pants, and other toddler-ish clothes. Despite your hatred for these clothes, you absolutely loved one thing, your woodland creature-covered sweatshirt. It was a white-based hoodie with pine trees sprouting from the bottom rim. There were deer, bunnies, birds, foxes, and other creatures within the trees that circled the entire hoodie.

It was your favorite because you felt free when in it. You felt like you could turn into a rabbit any day now and escape from Wanda and Natasha. But you knew better than to think of escape, especially in the hands of the Scarlet Witch and the Black Widow.

As you folded some black leggings, Natasha entered your room. “I thought we told you that we would help you, дорогая (sweetheart)?” She says, leaning against your doorway.

“You did. But I know what you would pack me, and I don’t want Bucky to see what you did to me.” You say defensively, the defiance and spark they loved about you showing.

“Y/n, don’t talk back to me. We took you in when you needed us, and Bucky was just in the way. I know you have been happy here despite everything. I can understand your anger, but you don’t get to take it out on us, do you understand?”

Her stern voice is enough to push you into submission. You sigh, “Yes, I understand,” You answer plainly and resume packing. “Can I bring Leo?” You ask, knowing deep down that your little self would never go anywhere without your toy lion.

The question makes Natasha smile and she nods. “Of course you can, sweetheart,” She says, walking further into your room. Your denim duffle back with pink, yellow, green, and blue flowers on the fabric sits fully on your bed and you let out a soft huff of pride as you smile at the bag. Ever since the two women took away your independence, you have felt very proud of yourself whenever you did something on your own.

“You did a great job, my little love bug, now why don’t we pack your to-do bag? It’s a bit of a long drive, back to Tony’s building.” Natasha reaches for the matching backpack and goes to your bookshelf to grab a few books, a notebook, two coloring books, your teddy bear pencil case, and some crayons. She sets your backpack next to your duffle and gently wraps her arm around you, pulling you into her side.

“Does this look like enough for you to do in the car?” Nat says.

“Mhm,” You hum your answer.

Nat gives you a soft squeeze, “Words, baby,”

“Yes, all of that looks very fun,” Natasha kisses your forehead as you answer, then zips up your bags to take them to the car. Once everything is packed, it is nearly seven thirty (7:30), and time for dinner.

Not once did you fall into your little space today, no matter how hard the two women tried. They knew that you were excited to see Bucky, but they also wanted a smooth car ride to the compound. Little space or not, you were going to be sleeping. The packing of the to-do bag was just a ploy. Of course, this was just a bag of things to do while you were at the compound.

Dinner was mostly silent. A few hums and thank you’s to fill the quiet. But one question was burning in the back of your brain.

“Project recapture didn’t follow through, and I am not going to see Bucky in a prison cell, right?”

Both Wanda and Natasha freeze, looking at one another. The mission failed when Steve backed down. He couldn’t do that to his best friend, not after what he went through when they took him out of the ice early. The fact that they left you and Steve in the ship too everyone that Hydra knew exactly who they were looking for.

Wanda shakes her head and puts her fork down on her plate. “Love, how did you know about the Project Recapture?” She turns to you and takes a sip of her wine.

“I didn't lie when I said I wasn’t looking at the files, but I did see one file about it after Tony left. I didn’t say anything because I couldn’t remember exactly what I saw until now.” You explain, practically telling yourself that you indeed did look at Natasha's files.

“Alrighty then, well to answer your question, no. The project failed thanks to Rogers’s doing. Your brother is safe, and he is not going back under Hydra control,” She pauses and gently takes hold of your hand. “Thank you for telling the truth about the files, sweet pea.” She smiles and gives your hand a small squeeze.

You return a false smile, taking in the fact that if Steve didn’t care about his best friend, Bucky would have been under Hydra's torture once again. You cringe at the thought of him in pain, wincing when you look back at the memory of him coming back from Wakanda with a new arm.

Dinner was finished silently, and once you all were done with your food, you cleared the table while Wanda and Natasha packed up. They each packed their clothes and necessities, while also bringing along some of their favorite toys to use on you when you were in your adult space. As per usual, the couple loved torturing you just like the day they brought you to the cabin.

Finally, the night came to an end. While Natasha read a book in bed, Wanda was in the kitchen making you some tea to ‘help’ you sleep. In your cup of [favorite tea flavor], she stirred in some Rohypnol to get you to sleep. She would give you another one in the morning so it would be a peaceful drive.

“Here love, I made you some tea,” Wanda says as she walks into your bedroom, smiling as she sees you in your teddy bear onesie pajamas. This of course wasn’t your first choice of pajamas, but it was something you would wear. In fact, it was something Bucky would get you for Christmas if you’re being honest.

You smile at her, still feeling love deep, deep down. You knew it was wrong to love your kidnapper, but you felt so safe in her arms and felt so loved when she kissed you. Same with Natasha. Although she may be a bit rough when it comes to making love to you, the way she held you afterward made up for a rough fucking.

As you pull back the blankets on your bed, you slip in next to Leo who is lying on your stacked pillows. He falls into your lap as you scoot back, and you look down at the plush toy. Even looking at it pushes you into a smaller headspace, but you fight it, wanting to stay big for Bucky.

“Little one? Can you drink some of this? It will calm you down. I know you’re nervous for tomorrow, but I promise you, once we get back to the compound everyone will be so happy to see you.” Wanda says, handing you the warm mug.

You sigh and take a sip of the [favorite tea flavor] flavored tea. The warmth in itself almost puts you to sleep, but as you drink more you start to feel the effects of the drug mixed inside. The feeling was very familiar— your eyes became heavy, your vision blurry, and your breaths were slightly shallow. A whimper was caught in your throat, and you looked at the blurred shadow of Wanda standing above you.

Gently, she takes the mug from your sluggish hands and puts it on your nightstand. While she is there, she presses the squishy duck night light on and moves to press a kiss to your head. She then carefully maneuvers you to a lying down position and fluffs your pillows to make you comfortable.

“Sleep tight, sweetheart. We’ll see you in the morning.” She smiles and kisses your lips softly. You whimper at the feeling of helplessness that comes with the drug, and you hate it when they don’t tell you that they are putting you to sleep. For good reason of course; you would beg them not to.

But this was the best solution to helping you stay asleep, and in the morning the same routine will follow.

~~~~~~~

Wanda and Natasha had set their alarms before the sun woke them up. They wanted to get you into the car, and on the road as quickly as possible. Once the car was packed, Wanda came back in and helped you change out of your pajamas into the clothes you picked for your car ride; Your woodland creatures hoodie, black joggers, fuzzy socks with bunnies on them, and your pink puffy coat just in case you get cold.

Still asleep, Wanda lays you between her legs while she does your hair. Parting your hair down the middle, she puts your [color, texture, length] hair into two buns on top of your head. Tying two pink satin ribbons around the buns, she kisses your head and picks you up. Your legs dangle over her arms and your head rolls against her chest as you lay sleeping in her arms.

With the car being heated up in the driveway, Wanda walks you outside opens the back door of their rusty, red explorer, and sits you down on the chair. She gently lifts your hoodie and puts Leo right against your belly, and she buckles you in. Your head falls against the seat belt, but Wanda is quick to grab a pillow to cradle your neck during the car ride.

Natasha stands behind Wanda, smiling as she sees how cute you look with your hair all done and your peaceful sleeping face. She sighs and kisses her wife’s neck as she wraps her arms around her waist.

“We’re doing the right thing letting her see him again. He might be angry, but let him. She’s alive and that is all that matters to him,” Nat whispers in Wanda's ear, her worries almost creating an aura of angry red light around her body.

Wanda nods and turns around in her wife’s arms. “I love you so much. Thank you for everything,” She whispers, her lips connecting to Natashas in a loving kiss.

“Let’s get going,” Nat says, squeezing Wanda gently and opening the passenger side door. As Wanda gets in, she shuts the door as Nat goes to lock up, and smiles once she is back in the driver's seat.

The long journey back to New York City has begun, and the wrath of Bucky is only getting closer.

~~~~~~~

Bucky’s POV

When I heard that Wanda and Natasha were coming back to the compound, I was more than angry. I was furious, ballistic, eradic, some might say. They had no place coming back here. However, if they came back with Y/n, all my questions would be answered and I would kill them both when I got the chance.

The morning of Y/n’s funeral, the company around me was off. There was a feeling surrounding the musty room that just felt… secretive. Like the people within the room knew something I didn’t. That was when I decided to do my research. I looked into every single one of the Avengers.

Tony was my first suspect; he has multiple houses in different countries, can cover up anything he wants to with money, and has plenty of people to work for him. Two of his maids from his mansion in California answered my questions, and I believed them. They genuinely looked frightened and wanted to help me find my sister. But I kept Tony in the back of my mind.

Despite how guilty it made me feel, I investigated Steve. My best friend. He lived a modest lifestyle in an apartment in Brooklyn and that was all the housing information I knew of and could find. He kept to himself and was looking out for me. He was concerned at my desperation to find Y/n when he had already accepted her death, but I continued despite his concern. But when I found out about Project Recapture, I didn’t even bat an eye. Hydra would never get me again, and I knew Steve would follow through with his promise of keeping Hydra away from me.

That mission to the old hydra base went smoothly, but Tony seemed awfully angry at Steve and pulled him aside after the mission de-briefing.

Now my eyes were on Bruce, Wanda, and Natasha. Ever since Y/n “died,” they have barely been present during missions. Only when we really needed them. Natasha was here more than Wanda, and that scared me. Where was the witch and why was she never on missions with us?

That was when I went on a deep dive into their finances. Near the death of Y/n, they had purchased a small cabin in the Beacon Mountains. They are married, but they live in the compound due to their job. I also noticed that the week before the purchase, there was a large transaction between their account and Clint Barton's account. A whopping 2.4 million dollars. What on earth did they need that money for?

The next few transactions answered my questions perfectly; For $4,300 they bought a Stark home security system. Obviously, they got a discount for knowing Tony because those originally went for $7,600. The next few items on the list were items that a child would use. Pacifiers, bottles, sippy cups, and other childish toys and accessories. Natasha can’t have children, and Wanda has admitted she never wanted children.

The money that was spent at Stark Industries was overwhelming. There were countless security items such as locks, keys, alarms, cameras, and other equipment that the couple really didn’t need if they were just living in a cabin for a while.

But one thing caught my eye.

Transaction 62938: “Sleeping drug - For the little one” Paid by Bruce Banner on 02/19/23

Who needed a sleeping drug? “The little one?” That made no sense.

Unless Y/n never fucking died, and they have her in that cabin.

Everything was making sense now, but I still needed proof that she was alive. I needed to know that she was breathing, eating, sleeping, living. But the security cameras were locked, and no amount of hacking let me in. I was devastated.

And when Natasha texted the team group chat, it almost seemed like a celebration that they were coming back to the compound. But it was just another fucking Tuesday. With them, it was always a fucking celebration when they entered. God, I hate them so fucking much. And if they have my little sister, I swear, I'm going to kill them and make it painful.

As I lean back in my desk chair, I take a breath as I finalize two fake suicide letters for the two people I despise the most. And as if on cue, I hear JARVIS announce the welcoming home of the two bitches themselves.

“Mr. Barnes, there is someone who would like to see you…” The AI says to me. I hum and I wave him off, knowing damn well I don’t want to see Wanda or Natasha.

“Mr. Barnes, I think you would like to see her.” He says, and I let out a huff as I stand up from my desk.

“Yeah, yeah, ok, but if it’s not Y/n, I’m telling Tony to unplug you.” I replied, and all I was met with was silence. I sigh and I open my door, walking down the hallway and going to the living room where the elevator is found. It is our apartment's “front door” and is locked unless someone is buzzed in.

I look around the room and I freeze. My breath hitches in my throat and my heart drops to my stomach. There she sat, smooshed in between Wanda and Natasha with her hair all done, a childish-looking sweatshirt on, and fuzzy socks to match.

I stuttered out her name, “Y-y/n?” I slowly walked closer to the three women, and I knew it was her the second she looked up.

“Das me!” She said, but it wasn’t in a normal voice. She spoke like a toddler.

I look at the two women beside her, imaginary daggers stabbing them over and over again. I just knew that they had her, but what the fuck did they do to her? As I got closer, the wheels in Y/n’s head were turning, trying to recognize me. And as I knelt down in front of her, it finally clicked in her brain.

“Bonky?” She whispers, clutching a plush lion in her hands. I nod with a small smile, confused beyond belief as I take in this new version of my sister.

“Oh god… what did you do to her? You monsters…” I say to Wanda and Natasha, who sit silently, watching the interaction between me and Y/n.

“Bonky, s’me!” Y/n’s head tilts, trying to justify that she is still my sister. She has to be in there somewhere. I glare as I see Wanda's hand rub her arm up and down soothingly, a part of me wishing I never let my eyes off of her on that god-forsaken mission.

“Love bug, why don’t you go show uncle Tony your lion while we talk to your brother?” Natasha says, Y/n turning her head to the woman. She nods and stands up from the couch, skipping over to Tony who nods his head at me and guides Y/n to the other room.

“Before you say another god damned word, I will never forgive you. Never. You don’t get any more fucking chances, do you understand?” I say in a low voice, standing up with balled fists.

Wanda is the first to nod her head, Natasha putting her hands up in surrender. I roll my eyes at the gestures, letting out a scoff as I turn around.

“She missed you, you know?” A voice sounds from behind me. “It took days to calm her down, but she missed you. And now you have her.”

I slowly turn around, the two women now standing as well. “You told me she was dead, had a funeral, convinced Steve to undergo Project Recapture, paid off Stark and Banner, kept her locked in a cabin for the past six (6) months, and you expect me to be happy when you say that she missed me?? Please! You both are crazy mother fuckers, and I will never, EVER forgive you for what you did to my sister!” I shouted.

The two women sighed, and I made my way to where Y/n was now. She has the brain of a toddler at the moment, so I have to treat her as such. I never thought I had to do this again, but here I go.

As I knock on the door, I see Tony sitting on the ground coloring with Little Y/n, or Tiny, as everyone calls her. The look I give Tony would put him six (6) feet (or 2 meters for you non-Americans) underground. He gave Y/n a pat on the head and left.

“Be gentle with her, Barnes. She’s not the same as she was before she left.”

I scoff. “Taken. Before she was taken, and held captive.” I corrected him. He shook his head and left the room, leaving me alone with my sister.

“Hey, Y/n…” I start softly, kneeling down next to her as she lays on her belly, coloring a picture of some deer in a forest. “What are you doin’? Hm?” I get in the same position as her, and I grab a crayon from her bag. “Mind if I join ya?”

She hums, nodding her head as I lay next to her, coloring away and not batting an eye. They really did ruin her…

“You’s can colow (color) dis guy!” She says, her words exiting her mouth with a speech impediment. She points to an owl on the left page, up at the top perched in a tree.

“Alrighty,” I say with a small smile, trying my hardest not to scare her in this state of mind. I had to be mindful, as I knew exactly what it felt like to be in another state of mind in the body I had. I was a killer in the body of a good soldier, a hero some might say. But Y/n? She was a four (4) year old inside of a twenty (20) [or your age] something-year-old body. What Wanda and Natasha did to her to get her there will haunt me, and I don’t think I ever want to know what they did.

~~~~~~~

Y/N POV

It was nice seeing Bucky, even in your little state you knew exactly who he was. You knew that he would never forgive Wanda and Natasha for what they did to you, but from the time you have spent with them and the times they saved you from Agatha, you learned to forgive them. They told you their circumstances and desires, and you felt so guilty when Bucky tried to keep you away from them.

Maybe taking you was a lesson for Bucky. Maybe it was their way of saying that I wasn’t a little girl anymore and that I could make decisions for myself. That was obviously never their intention to let you choose for yourself.

It was just past three o’clock (3:00), and you had just started to wake up from your nap. Wanda was next to you, holding you in her arms, and Bucky was at the end of the bed watching you both like a hawk. He had a mission, and that mission was to protect you all over again. Wanda of course was not a fan of this, but she let him do what he needed to feel like he was in control.

When you began to wake up, you nuzzled your face deeper into Wanda's neck, humming softly as you got comfortable yet again. You were in your adult head space again, and Wanda could tell the shift happened in the middle of your nap when you let go of Leo.

“Sweetheart? It’s time for lunch, are you hungry?” Wanda whispers, your eyes opening and your tummy rumbling. She chuckles as she hears your tummy, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You sit up, yawning and rubbing your eyes. Once you meet Bucky’s gaze, your face tells him everything. “Please don’t be mad at me. I had no choice. I will tell you everything.” He nodded at you softly and you scooted off the bed.

As you approach your brother, he stands up and immediately wraps his arms around you. “I missed you, pipsqueak, so much,” He whispers into your [color, length, texture] hair. His body shook as he cried, he never wanted to let you go. Tears filled your eyes as you returned the hug, missing the comfort that your brother gave you in times of stress.

“I missed you too, Buck,” You whisper into his shirt. Wanda and Natasha left the room, leaving you and Bucky once again. “You know I have to go back with them… don’t you?” You pulled away and looked up at him, your eyes puffy with fresh tears.

“No, no I am never letting you go again, you are not allowed to be out of my sight, do you understand?” He says, his hands on your shoulders squeezing just a bit tighter.

“I wish I could, b-but you have to understand something too… I love them, Bucky. A-and they love me too. I will never be the same after what they did to me, but I can at least be with people who know how to take care of me when my brain goes… you know, back.” You pause, looking up at him again. “I forgave them when they told me they loved me outside of the space they forced me into. They don’t love the little me, they love me. And I- I just- just please understand.”

Salty drops of tears roll down your cheeks, soaking into your white hoodie. Bucky’s heart broke, shattering into a million pieces as he heard your explanation. He pulls away from you and moves to sit on the bed, you follow and sit next to him.

“I am so sorry, from the beginning I didn’t know they were going to do any of this, and it all happened so fast. They found my journal, and they used it against me. I was in love with them first, but I didn’t want to disappoint you so I kept it to myself. That was in the past,” You let out a sad sigh. “I love them, Bucky. I love them and they love me.”

Bucky was dumbfounded. He loved you with all of his heart, mind, and soul. But he also understood your pain. He went through a lot in his time kept at Hydra, and he understood the caring aspect of a dire situation. A nurse had kept him company, but the guards killed her before she got a chance to get closer to him. But that nurse worked for Hydra willingly and kept him there. She was not there against her will but with the full intent of working for RedSkull and his army.

“Ok.” That was all Bucky could say. He didn’t want to alter your choices or thoughts, he only wanted you to be ok. “Do you promise to visit me, and you can leave on your own now? They don’t have to be everywhere with you?”

You shake your head, “They don’t have to be right next to me, they just need to know where I am. And of course I’ll visit you. I know they didn’t buy a new apartment just to spend money,” It takes a second for him to process what you said.

“Apartment? Wait, are you coming back to New York for good?” He asks, and a bright smile appears on his face. Once again, he pulls you into his arms, hugging you tightly. “I want to burn that god damned cabin…” He whispers, making you sigh.

He is right to want to burn it. You wanted to burn it the second they locked you in there. The wishes of them letting you go were said to them, begged to them, screamed at them. But still, they kept you in that cabin, deep in the woods, never to be seen until your captors allowed it.

“You don’t have to forgive them, Buck. But please tolerate them? They are kind and loving when you get to know them. Truly,” A hint of yearning is hidden in your voice, and Bucky can hear the desperation. So, he nods. He agrees to let Wanda and Natasha take care of you and love you.

“Ok… but on one condition.” He says, pulling away to face you. You tilt your head, silently telling him that you are listening. “I get to see you when ever I want to. Or, well at least need to. They don’t get to keep you hidden away anymore. I get to be your brother again, not the enemy.”

You nod immediately. “Yes, yes that works, they will be happy to have another babysitter around when the little part of me comes out. If I’m being honest…” You say, chuckling softly. “Im not going anywhere, Bucky. I promise you.”

From that day forward, Wanda and Natasha allowed you to see your brother when you wanted to and allowed him to come over to the cabin to help while you moved. ‘Tiny’ hadn’t come out in a while, as the move was stressing you out, but when all of the boxes from your nursery came to the new apartment, you finally felt comfortable falling into your thoughts once again.

You showed Bucky your mushroom tent that was set up in the corner of your room, you showed him Leo and your other stuffed animal friends, and he showed his love to you just the same. He said it was like having two little sisters. It was something he would get used to. Some day.

And as you sat in your mushroom tent, full of pillows, blankets, and stuffed animals, Bucky joined you and read you a bedtime story. Your favorite one that he read to you back in the forties (40s). You were home again, and letting you see your brother was just the thing that made Wanda and Natasha sure of moving back. You were happier when you knew, that he knew, that you were safe and sound.

Bucky loved you, Natasha loved you, Wanda loved you. And you loved them.

You always would.

#wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #Wandanat x reader #into the tiny verse #The toy lion the scarlet witch and tiny in the wardrobe #wandanat x little reader #mommy wandanat x little reader #mommy wanda x little reader #mommy natasha x little!reader #Wanda Maximoff #Natasha romanoff

208 notes · View notes

angel-of-the-moons · 8 months

Text

A Rose Under The Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Violence, graphic violence, blood, fighting, human trafficking, mentions of abuse, drug use, child abuse, sex trafficking, angst. So much angst.

MINORS DNI: I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Whew! I'm proud of this one! Many thanks to my bestest friend, Artemis, who himself has DID and helps me understand this condition and describe them (hopefully) more accurately! His system is a big help in me learning more about this subject! (Extra note: any Spanish spoken in this fic is in italics. As I am not a fluent speaker by any means, it is mostly translated by Google. Have fun!)

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Chapter 2:

Inside Voices

(Steven, no…) Marc's voice groaned out, glaring at him through the shared reflection in the glass door.

"But Marc! I've lived here for ages and didn't know this shop was here!" Steven beamed, smiling widely. Thankfully the wireless headphones he had on made him look like he was on the phone, and not completely off his rocker…

Marc ran his hands through his curly black hair. (You have enough books!)

"But this store might have books I don't have!" He pointed out.

(Just let him look, hermano.) Jake sighed, his reflection staring up at Steven from a puddle on the ground.

"Yes, thank you, Jake. At least somebody encourages my hobby!" Steven huffed indignantly at Marc.

(Jake, stop babying him!)

(Hey, nothing wrong with having a hobby?) The man snorted.

Marc rolled his eyes and slumped his shoulders, he directed a tired glare back at Steven.

(You gonna go in or just stare at the front door?) He finally asked.

Steven grinned like an excited boy going into a candy shop.

Marc really needed to have a talk with Jake about this. Steven already had too many books in their flat!

Steven pulled the headphones out of his ears and shoved them in his pocket as he opened the door, nearly jumping when the bell dinged.

He looked around, rather impressed with how much was inside a small space. Steven almost jumped again when the clerk spoke.

"Hi! Welcome to Here Today Books!" She said cheerfully.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

(I'm just saying, Steven… that's too many fucking books.) Marc said, crossing his arms at Steven through the reflection in the window across from his desk, cluttered with papers, folders, and books on various subjects of the Egyptian religious pantheon, architecture, etcetera.

"Oh, hush." Steven hummed, pushing his glasses up his nose as he examined the pages on one of the old books he held in his hand.

(Steven…) Marc sighed, exasperatedly.

"I know, I know." He sighed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. The stubble there was getting rather coarse. Maybe he could talk Jake out of growing that mustache or goatee he was thinking about…

Steven looked over and picked up the bookmark, sighing deeply as he looked at the gold-tipped rose sealed so lovingly in the plastic. Small vine-luke designs had been penned into the colorful sheet of paper inside the plastic as well.

(Very Beauty and The Beast, no?) Jake mused, his reflection from the mirror on the desk looking at Steven with a cocky grin.

It helped them, they found, to have as many reflective surfaces as possible in their flat; it enabled them to talk to each other simultaneously and "see" one another. Sure they could all talk in the headspace, and when they co-fronted it was almost like they could feel each other; rubbing shoulders, as it were, but sometimes you just needed to see the other person, y'know? Outside of your own head? Shared head? The terms still confused poor Steven, at times.

"I s'pose." He hummed, holding the plastic in his fingers gently, as if it were made of the thinnest glass. Absentmindedly, he pulled the sleeve of his shirt up and looked at the inside of his left wrist.

A mark was there.

A rose, to be precise.

Sometimes it would look like it was wilting, other times it was blooming and vibrant… other times it was closed, not ready to bloom.

Right now, it was somewhere between wilting and blooming. He wasn't sure what it meant. He thought back to Marc's ex-wife, Layla. And how he practically fell head over heels with her when they first met.

He had hoped, with Layla, that she had a corresponding mark… but she didn't. Layla was one of the few who didn't have a mark, or in the very least it hadn't shown up yet. Which isn't entirely implausible… But… something happened. After escaping the Duat, coming back to life, fighting Ammit… finding out about Jake.

They just drifted apart. The sparks that may have been there snuffed out, any hints at romance gone from the equation. They all decided it was better to leave it at that.

Well, at least they were all still on friendly terms, Steven mused. Layla still spoke to he and Marc via phone, or even email. It took Steven forever to convince Marc to ditch that "old dinosaur piece of plastic" he called a phone, and stick with his touch-screen.

Except… Jake. Ah, Jake. Layla never fully trusted him.

(Steven.) Jake said, getting his attention, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Hm?" He hummed, turning the bookmark over and over in his hand thoughtfully, eyes fluttering back to their mark on their wrist.

(It's my turn tonight.) Jake reminded him softly.

"Oh… right." He cringed. "Bollocks, I hate this…"

(I know, hermanito. But it has to be done, or the bad guys roam free…)

"All right, just… don't let me see any of it, yeah?" Steven sighed, placing the bookmark on the table as he put his hands in his lap.

(Of course.) Jake replied.

Marc stayed silent.

Suddenly, eyes flew closed, the jaw clenched; a bit of a sharp pain fluttered briefly through the brain at the sudden switching. They were getting better at seamless transitions, but sometimes some form of discomfort lingered. The body sat, almost like an empty vessel waiting to be filled. Whether it was five minutes or five seconds, it was unsure.

When the eyes opened again…

Jake was sitting where Steven sat. Steven's reflection wasn't in the mirror as Jake's had been, previously. He was left alone with Marc staring at him from the inky-black reflection in the window.

(I really hate that we have to do that to him.) Marc sighed, shaking his head.

"He's too gentle for our work, Marc." Jake said, clicking his tongue as he stood, walking over to the wardrobe in the corner and reaching out to grab his old leather coat. "He's too… good."

(I know.) Marc's reflection was in the fishtank now, where Gus the Second was swimming alongside… they really should think of a name for the other two.

Jake tugged the old worn garment on and pulled the gloves out of his jacket pockets with a sharp yank, flexing his fingers as they filled out the soft, well broken-in leather. Lastly, he pulled out that golf cap and slid it on his head, and looked at Marc.

(You don't have to see this, either, Marc.) He said to him.

(Somebody's gotta bear the weight with you, brother.) Marc said intently.

"Gracias por eso, hermano." Jake mumbled, twirling the flat's keys in his fingers as he walked to the front door.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

He sat, kneeling on the rooftop, his body hunched in a way that made him look like a gargoyle, unflinching and unmoving in his gaze; the cape gifted to him flared out almost like a long, tattered set of broken wings.

He wasn’t sure why he decided here of all places was a good place to talk. Why here? What drew him here? Was it the lingering joy and comfort Steven felt when he came in earlier that day?

The sign was hand-painted and in need of a new coat. Flecks of it had chipped away, the exposed wood beneath bleached by years of exposure. But… why was the bookshop important enough to stand outside now?

He looked down below, the curtains were pulled back still in the flat above, old lightbulbs casting a soft, orangish glow to everything inside. He could barely see from this vantage point across the street the boxes of books and book stacks lying on a desk in front of the window. Small knick knacks lined the sills, a hanging plant pot on the outside containing flowers of different kinds, slightly wilted from the lack of sun from the past few days, and now the night.

He stirred when he watched the young woman inside walk to the window in the living room and close the curtains; then tracked her movements as she went about her nightly rituals.

She seemed relaxed. Comfortable. Safe.

She didn't need protection tonight.

He felt the air chill around him, seeping through the wrappings of his armor.

“Jake Lockley.”

There it was. The voice he was waiting for. The voice that always knocked him away from his personal thoughts. The voice that told him of his duties during the night.

Khonshu.

“Yes, father?” Jake asked, standing up, turning to see the large imposing silhouette of a gaunt man, enshrouded in ancient, wispy linen wraps, a tattered shawl hanging from his bony shoulders, clenched in his fist; in place of a head was the dessicated and fleshless bone of a bird skull, small web-like tendrils wafting about here or there. Large, eyeless sockets fixed him in a crushing gaze, the skull tilting in an almost inquisitive manner.

(I wish you’d stop calling him that…) Marc grumbled from within.

“Have you located the evil-doers I sent you after?” Khonshu’s ancient and ethereal voice grated out.

“Yes. I plan on taking them out tonight.” Jake replied dutifully.

Khonshu tilted his head at Jake, and stood from where he sat on the aircon unit. “Now… Why are you here? This is not where you usually prefer to speak with me.”

“I… don’t know.” Jake admitted softly. “Felt like I had to be here.”

“Hmm.” The god hummed, stopping to stand next to Jake, looking down at the flat below. “Indeed.”

“Was there… anything else, father?” Jake asked, looking up at him.

“No. You can leave. I will issue new orders when our quarry is dead and dealt with.”

“Of course.” Jake bowed his head, pressing his fist over the moon on his chest; sparing one last glance down at the woman before walking away, leaping to another rooftop with superhuman strength.

Khonshu stayed. Observing, just for a moment longer, at the woman inside the safety of her home.

“Interesting.” He mused to himself, stamping his staff down and vanishing in a haze of mist.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Jake panted, pulling one of his darts out of the chest of the man who had tried to previously shoot him just now. He sheathed the weapon and approached the shipping container, hesitating for a moment before smashing the lock open with his bare fist and hauling the heavy doors open.

Inside were half a dozen women and young girls, and children. Some of them naked, others half-dressed. Many of them were dirty and half starved, injuries evident on their poor bodies.

He noticed how they all flinched, backing away from him.

“I won’t hurt you.” He said, in a tone as soft as he could possibly manage, trying to ease their worries. “I’m here to save you.”

Jake leaned down and pulled the jacket off the dead body of the man he had just killed, stepping over the corpse to the young woman nearest to him.

She was clad only in her underwear, bruises and track marks lining her body. He draped the jacket over her shoulders, zipping it closed for her as he guided her arms through the sleeves.

“The police are on their way. You’ll all be safe, soon.” He said, his glowing white eyes fixed in the black abyss of his mask immediately zeroed in on three women, clinging their arms around a group of small children.

The youngest couldn’t have been older than three years old. Her eyes cold, far too ancient and haunted for one so young, clouded by the things she’d been forced to endure for the profit of her traffickers; her tiny body already bearing the scars of the abuse and trauma. Jake’s fist balled at his sides as he forced his breathing to try and calm; adrenaline surging through him again, a hot coal of rage dropping deep into the pit of his stomach.

He wished he could kill them all over again. He wished he could make them all suffer in ways they could barely process for the things they’d done. He wanted to–

His cloak was tugged on, snapping him out of his seething.

He looked down, and a small boy, all skin and bones looked up at him. He looked to be about seven. Could be older, as malnourishment can inhibit growth. His big green eyes looked up at Jake as he wrapped the edge of his cloak around his shoulders like a blanket, his dirty and grimy fingers clinging to the blood-soaked material, seeking comfort he so desperately needed. Jake felt his heart crack in two. He looked almost like...

He closed his eyes for a moment and kneeled, getting as eye level with the boy as he could.

“You’re safe now. They can’t hurt you anymore.” Jake said, his voice quiet, almost broken. He reached for a ratty blanket on the ground and covered the little boy with it, the sight of him covered in a bloody cape almost too much for him to bear.

He felt his breathing hitch when the little boy smiled up at him, gap-toothed and happy. He handed the boy off to a woman who looked to only be maybe nineteen.

“Stay…” He cleared his throat, looking at everyone within the container, standing back to his full imposing height.

“Stay here while I make sure it’s safe and I got them all. Someone will be here soon to get you all out of here.”

“Thank you.” One of the women sobbed quietly, clutching onto what looked to be her own child. They looked too similar for them to be anything but related.

Jake turned, his cape flowing out behind him like a white shadow as he stalked into the warehouse beyond, his fists already tight; the spiked knuckles on the back of his hands ready for blows he was all too eager to deliver.

He stepped over bodies, beaten, broken. Lifeless.

All at his hand. They deserved worse.

The eerie quiet of the cavernous space was only interrupted by the tinkling of chains suspended from the rafters, wind whistling through unseen cracks.

He could hear the sirens in the distance closing in, but he didn’t relax. He wouldn’t. Not until he was sure.

Not until he knew they were all dead.

Jake’s hands trembled with anticipation as that coal of rage ignited into an inferno, burning hot and low in his belly, sending sparks through his bloodstream. He was so far into that haze of red, he missed the man rushing him with a kabar knife.

He must have missed that one, the coward was probably hiding the moment the carnage broke out.

The moment he turned, he felt the blade slip easily through the wrappings of his dark armor, piercing the flesh and organs beneath, the pain tearing through his body like a macabre tsunami.

He brought his fist out, slamming the spiked knuckles into the face of the man.

The coppery scent of blood, the crunch of bones and cartilage filled his nose and were deafeningly loud in his ears. He was sure he watched his eyeball dislodge, hanging over the crushed and bloody expanse of his cheek as his body was sent flying into the cargo loader nearby.

The sound of his bones turning almost to powder overpowered the haunting ambience of the dark lair.

Jake marched over to him and gripped him by the shirt, rearing his fist back for another punch, even as his body hung limp in his grasp.

Only… he couldn’t land the blow. He just couldn’t. It was one thing to kill to protect. But it was another to beat a corpse that he’d already wrought with one blow. His ears picked up the sounds of shouting, sirens, bootfall. A helicopter whirred above, spotlight shining at the carnage below.

He stood, clutching at the knife still sticking out of his side as he dragged his feet, pulling the shell of his body outside, where he was met with armored police officers, wearing what he assumed was some kind of riot gear. The pain in his side was maddening, he almost didn’t hear them demand he kneel. But he did hear a woman cry.

He lifted his gaze to see the woman he’d handed the boy off to; the child still clutched in her arms as they looked over at him, their eyes locking with his.

“He saved us!” She cried.

“Don’t hurt him, please!” Another shouted.

“He’s a nice man!” A child sobbed, clinging to the emergency blanket around her frail body.

Jake felt like he could cry, he felt his heart swell to bursting; not able to tear his gaze away from the innocents he’d saved, that he killed for. Not even when one of the officers approached him, gripping his elbow to keep him steady.

The older man sighed, unable to cuff the man that the human trafficking victims were shouting and crying accolades for. Even if he apparently killed all these monsters bare-handed. “Come on, lad. Let’s get you looked at. We can’t leave that knife in ya.”

“I’m fine.” Jake mumbled, looking at the ground. His shoulders slumped.

“Like hell you are.” The officer turned and shouted for a medic.

“Perdóname, mi corazón." Jake muttered to himself. To someone else.

But as the man carrying the equipment bag jogged towards him, Jake gripped the handle of the knife and wrenched it free in one tug, blood spurting from the wound.

“Good God!” The officer gasped, reaching out to press his hand over the gushing wound. “Are you insane, boy?”

“Yes.” Jake mumbled, pulling his hand away from him, with gentle care that betrayed the violence his bloody fingers had wrought mere moments ago. He felt the wound close, the magic and blessed armor already performing its duty. Just as he had, so violently.

Jake straightened his posture as the medic and the officers backed away in a strange mixture of fascination, horror, and awe.

“Who… what are you?” The medic breathed.

Jake turned away, his gaze to the sky.

“I’m Moon Knight.”

And with that final goodbye, he leapt up, disappearing into the blackness and depths of the night, his heart heavy but relieved, cloak streaking across the shadows, as if to chase them away.

Chapter 3: Link

#moon knight #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #steven grant x reader #marvel #my writing #khonshu #A Rose Under The Moon

193 notes · View notes

ipegchangbin · 3 months

Text

— lines, lines, and more lines

hyunjin x reader | 4.5k words

♡ ... accompanying playlist. Hyunjin stared at the unfinished painting. It always seemed to stare back. And its eyes — it had none — looked like yours.

❥ angst. hurt, comfort. hopeful ending. ❥ not beta read. gender neutral reader (no pronouns). past breakup. declining mental health (depression). mentions of suggestive activity. exes to…

📝 happy valentine’s day! art & playlist by me. otherwise, enjoy.

18+ only. minors do not interact.

Should he have called you?

He loves all sorts of art. He has not once ever hated a single piece, thinking that all works were masterpieces in their own right.

Standing in the corner of the room, though, was a canvas he hated to see. Hyunjin didn’t dislike your unfinished painting, but he hated being reminded of what could’ve been.

It had been a year yet nothing in that corner of the room had changed. He always used the studio, of course, the large open workspace full of ideas that came to fruition and stored the ones that didn’t in unsealed paint cans and palettes with stories in them.

The room was littered — half-clean thanks to weekly maintenance — but not dusty. It was a calculated mess, typical for an artist, atypical for a depressed romantic.

Because all but one goddamn corner of the room changed. That one painting stood on that easel, paint dried yet not chipping once off its canvas.

It was supposed to be a portrait of his face. You finished the perimeter of his head, his bangs and mullet colored in, and an underpainting of his skin was in the works. His lips were as luscious as you used to claim — one of his favorite compliments, he wouldn’t admit — and they were frozen in an ever-present gentle smile. He didn’t have any eyes yet, but your rendition of him stared back at Hyunjin like a warped reflection in moving water.

Yet it seemed to stand still in time.

That’s why he called you. After months of no contact, he dialed you up at 2 AM in a state of slightly calmed panic. Hyunjin wasn’t thinking; he didn’t want to think, not anymore. All he wanted was to see you.

He bit his lips that you once said were luscious and full. The anticipation in his system only seemed to outweigh the feeling of his teeth clamping his lower lip.

Autopilot drew over his actions. Your phone rang. His own vibrated in his hand. He allowed the speaker to ring across the colorfully-decorated walls of the studio.

Please, pick up.

“Hello?”

Hyunjin blinked and suddenly he was back to where he was. The call had been over twenty minutes ago. It would be approximately ten more minutes before you’d arrive at his doorstep.

Was that really your voice that he heard?

Can’t be stupid, of course that was you. There was no mistaking the calm and soothing timbre of a voice that had just awoken, not from sleep, but from resting a stretch of time without speech.

Maybe he dreamt it up again? No, he didn’t. Then, why did he do that?

Hyunjin, are you fucking stupid? He couldn’t help his thoughts.

It’s no secret that he’d slip into that same blurry headspace, the one where he’d stop thinking and just do. Do things. Do whatever. It would take a bone to the head for him to even stop him at this state and it was painfully clear whenever he was in this trance.

He wouldn’t speak much. He’d pick up whatever he was supposed to hold and focus with deathly control. He’d zone in instead of out; this regularly occurred when he was painting, and he’d lose track of thought and simply keep going.

Is that why my works are more soulless lately? I don’t think when I make them. Hyunjin waved a hand in front of his sleepy eyes.

The downside to this was that, after the autopilot switches off, the flurry of thoughts would race and speed and subsequently crash. His thoughts were bullet trains that resumed motion and his head had tracks suddenly converging at a point. It’s wild, even to him, and he still isn’t sure if he’s gotten used to it yet.

All that he knew is that he missed you dearly.

You would know him better than he does. You would know how to comfort him. You would know — no, understand him better. Process his feelings more than he could ever do alone.

He never knew what love was until he loved you. He still loves you. It’s a love that eats away at him, as it’s the only love he knows.

It’s the only love he had. It’s the only love he lost.

Knock, knock, knock.

And it’s the only love that answers his call.

Startled by the sudden noise, Hyunjin got up from the dark amber floors of his well-loved studio and stopped staring at the painting.

It told him something. It seemed to know that someone was there. The artist behind his unfinished face, you, returned to his home no matter how absent-minded he seemed to be as he called you.

But he could leave the door unanswered. He could half-lie, pretend that he was drunk and fell asleep, text you a simple apology. It could be simpler.

But you were waiting so patiently by his door.

Curse you. Why have you always been patient with him? Why do you always wait for him? He didn’t deserve you, didn’t deserve to date you then break up with you. He didn’t deserve to waste a single second of your time.

Even if you weren’t together anymore, why do you wait so loyally for him behind a door that won’t open in the dead middle of the night?

Hyunjin pondered whether or not to unlock the entrance and let you back into his life at least for one more fleeting moment.

“Sorry for making you wait,” he said, guiding you through the halls of his house as if you hadn’t memorized it by now.

Maybe he wanted the moment to feel special all over again. After several months of calling it quits, he wanted to make it feel as if you re-entered a dream from where you left off.

Ignore that it looked nightmarish now. If it at least holds any bearing, it did feel like you picked up from where you left off, though.

The more you traversed the familiar walls you once called home, the more it seemed apparent that life and time both flowed and stopped within the house. Some things were stuck in time, like the one-fourth full shampoo bottle sitting in your former corner of his shower. The sink was newly wet, water still dripping from the porcelain. It wasn’t like you wanted to pry, but the bathroom door was wide open to begin with, the scene more apparent when you noticed Hyunjin sniffling behind you.

Did he break down in the restroom again?

You knew he always did that. He didn’t have the habit of keeping to himself, but when he didn’t want to display his vulnerability to you, the same bathroom became his space if an outlet. Drawings weren’t always an answer, especially if it was his job, so he’d sob in the restroom — and it seemed, in his dissociative episode, he cried for a minute before calling you.

You walked further into the house. Your steps creaked against the wooden flooring that he promised to fix several months ago — had it been a year?

Maybe so. You haven’t used the same brand of the three-fourths empty shampoo bottle since last year. You switched brands since you left him.

He must’ve noticed. Hyunjin always made it known to you that he loved taking whiffs of your scent when you once were lovers. Now that he was trailing behind you while simultaneously guiding you through the depressive home, he must’ve realized that once was a lavender-scented head became lemon and lime.

It was unfamiliar. It shouldn’t affect Hyunjin. It’s just you. You’ve changed, so did the house, so did he, but it wasn’t anywhere near your level of maturation and growth.

Because how the fuck does a change of shampoo beat an unchanging home?

“Hyune,” you called to him, “do you need help with anything over here?”

He blinked. Even he didn’t know why he called you.

“I thought you needed help with the furniture?”

Right…right? He said that? Caught up in the sight of you after months, Hyunjin didn’t even remember his own excuse. He just craved to see you. See the person you grew to become.

See the person who left for the sake of love.

“Oh, yeah, I do.” Hyunjin sniffled with a weak smile. “Had to move a table in our—the studio, but your stuff’s in there.”

A genuine shock washed over you. “Shit, I forgot some things? I’m sorry.”

Hyunjin shouldn’t be this delighted to see your emotions.

He always loved watching you talk. He listened with full observation, relishing in the way you expressed yourself because you were beyond entertaining. You were his opposite, but also his twin flame. So maybe that was why it burnt his chest with charred edges to see that you were so much more confident in your words.

Was it speech therapy? Was it freedom? Was it because you left him, that you learned to love yourself more? Was it really not him, but you? “It’s not you, it’s me?”

Shit. He was overthinking again. His temples started to hurt more than it did. Sweating and despairing and wondering when — if it would all end by staring at you long enough.

He led you through the corner leading up to the studio. The first thing you saw, thankfully, wasn’t the mess he was creating around the corner; it was your painting. The haunting aura of Hyunjin’s portrait seemed to surprise you, taking one step back on your left leg. The studio was rampant of Hyunjin’s constant and bustling work ethic and then there was your corner, pristine in the way that it hadn’t moved at all. The painting stared at you both. You wondered if that had really been the state at which you left it — the state at which you left him.

You’re not the same. There’s comfort in the fact that you’re still you, the you he fell for and cherished. The you that he deemed his darling. His co-artist, his muse.

Standing in his studio after months, taking a gander at your unfinished work; you have the same backside but your silhouette has changed. Hyunjin couldn’t seem to grasp it. How could he, when you were his one and only love?

“God, that thing’s still there,” you joked. For a moment, Hyunjin’s thoughts seemed to calm themselves as you both chuckled silently.

“It’s funny, I stare at your painting and it looks like it’ll never crack.” He pointed at the painting, forgetting about the furniture he pretended to need help with. “You haven’t even varnished it and yet I feel more brittle than it ever will be.”

There’s a solemn look in his eyes as he stared at the spitting image of him, albeit rough around the edges and eyeless.

“Bits and pieces of my heart chipped when you left,” he whispered, though you caught it.

He bit his tongue to keep himself from uttering the petname “darling.” Force of habit, even after months — yet nobody could blame him, especially after you left him to wonder what you both were.

He knew how to mix orange paint better than knowing the mix of emotions you gave him.

“I’m sorry?”

The guilt washed over his shoulders as he realized that he spoke aloud, suddenly hoping that you could just go back to furnitures. He pretended to clear his dusty table, only for your hand to catch his. Skin on skin had never felt this refreshing. He’d realized that he never had another being touch him after you left.

“No, nevermind, I—”

“Hyune, no, I’m sorry.” The sincerity in your voice gave him goosebumps that he hoped you hadn’t felt under your palm. “I didn’t think I’d affect you like this…”

“It’s nothing big, really,” he scoffed, his own eye bags from losing sleep over you proving him otherwise. Hyunjin started feeling weird, like his head was spinning and he could faint at any moment. He was losing balance while holding onto the table. All he wanted was for you to talk.

Your concern only ever grew. “But you even kept the painting like that. Why didn’t you just take it down?”

You turned to him after he gave no response.

He thought and thought until he lost himself in a sea of overwhelming ideas and questions. He tried to come up with answers until he concluded that these were the same questions he’d ask himself every single day as he worked in the same exact studio. If only his clutter could talk, they’d know his secret; he’d stare at your art in between his works and mourn.

Mourn the future he couldn’t have with you. Mourn the lost love.

“Couldn’t take it down I guess.” Hyunjin huffed, defeated. “I just…couldn’t.”

That’s when it hit you. A lot of things in his house were merely things he simply couldn’t let go of.

The shampoo bottle from earlier. The painting. Trinkets stacked in the corners of the hallway you slowly walked through were keychains that you and Hyunjin bought at art fairs together. The hat you’d been missing was hanging by the entrance all along, untouched. Some brushes in his studio were yours.

He’d been stuck in a limbo between the past and present, unable to see a future from the dust on his table. Hyunjin stood in silence as you both shared a knowing look.

A look you couldn’t even spare him when you left.

For the past months, he couldn’t stop fixating on the last time you made love — the night before you left. It was great, satisfying and full of sweat and tears, full of kisses and promises that you’ll be back someday. You were going to focus on yourself, that you realized that love isn’t for you if you didn’t love yourself first. Hyunjin believed in it. He believed in you. You weren’t lying, but you weren’t sure of your words either. You figured that was the point of leaving, so that you’d “come back” as a sure, secure, and mature person.

It’s just that the world had been so unkind to you both. The things that you used to enjoy with him became something of nothing, and you realized that it was your end that needed fixing. To you, coming back wasn’t a promise to Hyunjin. To him, it was something he was willing to wait for even until the next lifetime. Love to you was for yourself to grow and familiarize with, but love to him was something he only knew through you.

That was the last time he’d ever touched another person, let alone himself. That was the last time he had ever uttered “I love you.” But maybe, just maybe, you were too set on leaving to care about the sex. It was full of love to him but it was probably empty to you. It was probably one last promise that you wanted to fulfill—let go of. You didn’t even pack your shampoo bottles when you left.

Hyunjin sat on the ground, legs about to give in from the sheer weight of his emotions and thoughts. You followed suit, sitting beside him.

I feel weird again.

Hyunjin clutched his arms closer to his chest, squeezing his knees in between the embrace, trembling in fear of another barrage of racing thoughts consuming him, eating away at his space.

There was nothing he could do about it. It always just seemed to happen.

Everything hurt, his brain was throbbing, your presence alone was too much in his shitty abode that he calls a home, his studio is one shabby excuse of a room that shouldn’t have you in it, you didn’t deserve to be here, in his place, in his damned, shitty place—

“Hyune.”

You reached out behind yourself to grab his arm.

“You’re not okay.”

It took two full, quiet seconds before anything. You stared not at his arm, but his eyes.

“Thought it was obvious,” he tried to joke. Once he caught a glimpse of your unwavering concern, he looked back down.

You made the grip on his arm firmer. You stroked his forearm with your thumb. It seemed to ground your ex, but he still felt just as broken as he was earlier.

“I’m sorry.” You sighed. “I keep saying it but I don’t think it’ll ever be enough. I’m sorry I left you like this. I’m sorry I even left you. I just…you know that I had to do this for me, for us…”

You felt something in your throat. You swallowed it. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to forgive me. I know how shitty it is and now, I’m here for you.”

Hyunjin wordlessly listened, nodding at your now-real and sincere promises. Tears were falling down his eyes in the same tracks his previous tear stains ran down.

Your painting had been staring at you this whole time, the strokes around the eyes sticking out like sore thumbs to him — they were more of pinky promises to you, left hanging and ignored yet still innocently waiting.

“Let’s fix that,” you sighed.

“What?”

You looked at Hyunjin with a smile, half fond and half despondent. “May I finish this real quick?”

Hyunjin simply stared at you. The tears in his eyes fell but he didn’t dare blink. His eyes were wide open, in awe of your smile, scorn growing in his chest that you are both incredibly hurt people.

He hated, still hates, and will always hate the way that this world wronged either of you to the extent that you smile with unhappiness.

Alas, you got up to finish your work, thinking he nodded when he didn’t.

You stumbled to get up on two legs, struggling in your trembling body to even put a hand on your knee to get up. It was less of heartbroken now and more of tired, emotionally exhausted, sleepy, and slightly frustrated at the sight of your unfinished work.

Though it was your painting that your chose to abandon for months, you finally took the brush and picked up a surprisingly active thinner and a semi-dry pigment — random color that you couldn’t bother to check — off his palette with its bristles. You started slashing in a semi-calculative fashion, not minding the strokes but rather the picture you were painting, burning butterflies from your brain right onto the canvas.

Hyunjin stared curiously with hands on his knees still close to his chest. The eyes that were promised on the canvas became less and less like his own until they weren’t.

And there they were, butterflies sitting on a portrait of his face.

“There,” you said, accomplished. For some reason though, the lump in your throat returned.

You figured it was the thought of slightly finishing in the way you never intended to. You remembered working on the piece while you were still together, promising to paint him a portrait as a signifier of your love for him. He sat in front of your easel for hours, not because you couldn’t paint his face right, but because you and him couldn’t finish your work from laughing together and talking endlessly.

You couldn’t get it done even if you wanted to just because he loved you so much. He loved you enough to make you smile and laugh. He loved you to the point of obsession and fixation. Nowadays, you aren’t sure how you feel about that, but then, it was refreshing and alive.

Maybe that’s what killed love for you. You didn’t want him and his explosive bouts of love to get in the way of your love for your work, your life, yourself. You loved him, you still do. It’s no question. So, what is it?

Is it that you didn’t love him the way he loved you?

You left to focus on yourself. You left to find the love that you needed for yourself. Or maybe, is this his consequence of loving too much?

Or did you not love him the same?

“It’s…” Hyunjin slowly spoke, “it’s so pretty.”

Your eyes sparkled at him. He was fixated on the butterfly in your painting.

“Your work is always so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you nervously said. The tears started to pool by your eyes. The nostalgia, the pain in his voice, the longing for you and him…was it all too much?

Hyunjin seemed to have an answer.

“Though we won’t be certain about what’s in store for us,” he mustered up the courage to say, “I’m certain that you’ll always be in my picture.”

“What if I don’t want to be in your picture anymore?” You asked.

Hyunjin’s lips shut.

You didn’t know what overcame you when you said that. The frustration of thoughts, from having to answer your ex’s call and seeing him break down like this, to questioning the love that you still have for him. It was all much.

“I’ll be hurt,” he sniffled, “I’ll respect it.”

While you were at it, you had to ask. “Is it selfish to say that I wish you didn’t love me so that you leaving would’ve been easier?”

A part of you wished this too much. You hoped that he could just move on. But again, how could he? How could he when you were his first, his supposed last? You were the one who taught him love and he loved you with his all. It’s not a love that you’re used to and it’s not a type of love you could give to him let alone yourself.

Your eyes shifted towards the painting again when he couldn’t answer, until you felt his hand reaching out for yours.

“I love you most. It isn’t selfish, but I think I’m selfish for still yearning. You just know me better than I know myself.” Hyunjin spoke with a sudden eloquence that gave you shivers.

It wouldn’t last long.

“Thank you.” You held his hand with your other. “But Hyunjin…you should know yourself better than most.”

“Darling—” His voice broke slightly. The habit creeped back, betraying his tongue as it chased you. “Y/N, I don’t even know anything, so how else am I supposed to do that with myself?”

It became trickier to respond as his tears exploded. “Then understand yourself,” you said, “It’s hard, it sucks, but look. You have to care for yourself before you get to love others.”

“Like you?” He asked with swollen, slightly bitten lips. “You know yourself.”

“I don’t. Not yet. Not completely.”

Hyunjin nodded with sorrow in his eyes. “It’s just…”

He took a deep breath as he glanced at the butterfly. It seemed like a breed of bug that would be free in the wind. He wished to become that, a wandering creature with beauty and nothing in its simple mind but the love of life.

Hyunjin exhaled.

“I’ve been trying to accept that you left because you found yourself, and I’m happy for you. But I can’t help myself. I can’t help but think about you. I can’t help but miss you. I can’t help thinking about how you are, I can’t help staring at the things you left for me, I can’t help the thought that—”

You don’t love me.

“That…th-that…you’re better off without me.”

Holding his hand tighter, you urged him to look at you. “Hyunjin…that isn’t the case. At all.”

“Yet I can’t help it. I…I can’t lose you.” He started choking in his words. “I see my own portrait and all I’ll think about is you.”

Words started to hit like pangs to your chest. He’s right; it’s difficult to separate the art from the artist especially in your circumstances. He couldn’t let the notion of you go at all.

“You painted it. You stared at me. I’ll never forget the concentrated face you made while drawing me. It all goes back to you, and I love you, and I just…”

“Hyunjin…”

“I’m so stupid. I’m sorry. You don’t need to hear any of this. It’s so early, I…” He gulped and bit his bottom lip. “And I can’t kick you out now. God. I’m so fucking stupid…”

Pity and sincere concern washed over you. “You aren’t.” You’ve been in this scene before, back when you were together. Hyunjin’s grateful that you still have the right words to say. “Hyune…I still care for you deeply. I love you.”

“I love myself too and I’m sorry I prioritized myself. I left you in the dark. I’m so, so sorry.”

He tilted his head at that. “No. You deserve to be happy.” He’s right, there was no need to be sorry for choosing yourself when he could only choose you too.

You tried to smile. “Hyune, I always hope that you’ll be happy too.”

A few seconds of silence passed before a glint amidst your ex’s crying appears in his very real eyes.

“We can go back to painting maps. I hope by then, you’ll find yourself too.”

Profound words became skipped heartbeats. If you knew what to say, then he would always be ahead. That’s what you loved about him.

“If I do find it…the way back…” Hyunjin stuttered, “Will you come back to me too?”

“Maybe.” You smiled. “There’s a point that fate will take me to. Hope to meet you at that point.”

The both of you prepared coffee as purple streaks of daylight broke into the sky. You caught up with yourselves and shared a few jokes over the dining table. It had been a while since Hyunjin — nor you — felt this kind if human connection again. The bitterness of the caffeine and sweetness of the sugar would be fitting for you both if it weren’t for the fact that you both downed your drinks with ease, just as you would before.

Things are different, things are the same. Hyunjin promised to be healthier. You picked up one of his extra paper bags and got some of your stuff.

“Hyune, I want to apologize one last time,” you turned to him. “Sorry I pulled the “it’s not you, it’s me” thing even if I knew next to nothing either. And sorry for leaving this.”

You held up the unopened shampoo bottle next to your head. Hyunjin blinked before smiling fondly.

“Do you still want it?”

“Well, you probably need it.”

“I have stock of a new one at home. I miss this one though. Do you mind?”

Familiarity returned at last once you gave him the look with the big, curious eyes.

Hyunjin realized that you, no matter the distance, were never going to be too far from his heart.

Like a butterfly, it always returns to the flowers. Chipped paint can be retouched with new, brighter pigment. Love isn’t off the table, it changes — it grows. Maybe it branches in different directions, but just like butterflies, they don’t fly in straight paths.

He smiled wider when he realized he took too long to respond.

“Not at all.”

thank you for reading ! consider reblogging and leaving feedback if you loved my work 💗 writing © ipegchangbin

#skz angst #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin angst #stray kids x reader #💬 z is writimg

106 notes · View notes

jjtheresidentbaby · 1 year

Note

Please could you do autistic little!reader and caregiver!natasha calming them down after sensory overload? Maybe with the pet name little spider? Thank you!

Always

|| natasha romanoff x reader

disclaimer ; I am not officially diagnosed with autism but it is suspected. If I wrote anything that is offensive please tell me and I will immediately take it down, my intention is never to offend anyone

notes ; “little spider” ahhh it’s so cute!!!,,,,,(we’re not gonna talk about how self indulgent this one got)

warnings ; autistic reader, sensory issues, implied spider-person reader

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆ ☆ ⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

You follow idly as Natasha leads you to the towers yard, completely abandoning the party Tony has going on right now.

You know why she’s taking you away, the lights are far too bright in there, music too loud and scratchy against the record player, people too close together, even the smell of everyone’s colognes and perfumes mixing together was causing your sensory issues to flare up. Tony always tries his best to make things more comfortable for you, which you greatly appreciate, but tonight was just too much.

Your caregiver was quick at recognizing the sensory overload and the slip in your headspace as a result. All the other avengers have an understanding look when Natasha came to whoosh you away from where you stood cowering behind Steve; she had made sure nobody else would be outside before walking you both to the courtyard.

“Come on little spider, sit with me.” Natasha beacons a hand from where she sits on a blanket in the grass, where that even came from is unknown but you graciously take the spot beside your caregiver.

“Do you want touch right now?” Something always swells in your heart when Natasha asks this question, it’s done tenderly, gently, assuring you that no matter the answer she’ll be there.

“Hands.” It’s one of the only ways you can ground yourself properly. Your hand is slipped into Natasha’s quickly, a slight squeeze to your palm as she smiles towards you.

“I hope you don’t mind, I was worried tonight would be a lot since it’s more people than Tony normally has; so I set this up earlier.” She moves to pull a bag from behind her, it’s one you’ve seen a million times, a baby pink color that’s usually filled with Natasha’s personal items and little trinkets she collects on missions.

“I know theres food inside but these are fresher, and your favorite. Oh and some paper you can mess with and a few colored pencils, don’t tell Peter I raided his art supplies.” You giggle watching Romanoff take out each item, a small reusable bag filled with cut strawberries first, then a coloring book, a pad of plain paper, and finally a handful of random colored pencils.

“Thank you Nat.” She brushes off your thanks with a small head shake and squeeze of your hand.

“Always, my little spider, always.”

#jj writes #marvel agere #caregiver!natasha romanoff #little!reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #autistic reader

569 notes · View notes

littlespacereader · 6 months

Note

Hi!! I’m a big fan of your writing (my favorite so far is the OFMD one, I’m so excited for an update!) I was wondering if I could request a Stede and Black Beard comfort fic, maybe little reader gets scared after a fight or something? Lots of tears and extra comfort from the two best guys 🖤 thank you!

Listen, college has been killing me so I’ve only watched the first three episodes of Season Two (no spoilers please) so with that I’m gonna write this fic similar to my fic on AO3. (Aka everything is fine, the crew is all together and Stede and Ed are together🥰) I am honored you love my fic on AO3! I promise once things settle down a bit I will get back to writing it! For now I would be honored to write this request! I absolutely love me a hurt and comfort fic! Especially with Stede and Ed!! Ahhhh!!! Plus to change it up from my fic on AO3 I made Izzy a Little with the Reader! I love the big brother vibes he has with the crew on the show. I hope you like fluff because this fic has all the cuteness! So please enjoy!! Thank you for the request! 💞💞💞

A Big Brother Solution 🏴‍☠️

Caregiver!Stede Bonnet, Caregiver! Blackbeard, Big Brother Little!Izzy Hands & GN Little!Reader (SFW)

Nicknames - Darling, sweetheart, little sweetheart, little one, cuddle bug, Papa for Ed, Dad/Dadee for Stede, Israel & Iz for Izzy,

Tags - accident, hurt/comfort, Izzy’s a Little too, hugs, forehead kisses, cuddles, story time, play fighting, sibling dynamics.

It was a beautiful day in the bays of a local island. The ocean rested calm against the boat with its beautiful turquoise color. The Revenge was docked off the coast of the island with most of her crew off to explore the island and its shops.

Aboard the Revenge is her Captains of course, Stede and Ed, as well as their two Littles Izzy and Y/N.

It had been an interesting story how the four had met. Y/N is Stede’s Little before he had met Ed and Izzy. They had left it all to pursue their shared dream of being pirates! Then they had met Blackbeard and Izzy during a crazy battle. Little did they know their four worlds would be changed forever.

Ed and Stede fell in love meaning Y/N and Izzy became sibling Littles, which at first was a bit rocky. The two come from different worlds, both have different headspaces and both are very different people.

They fought and they argued often. But strangely, after Stede and Ed sent them on a friendship mission to get fruit on a random island, when they returned…they were the best of friends. (A fic for another day possibly👀)

Stede and Ed never questioned, just happy to see their Littles were close to one another. Izzy was proud to be Y/N big brother. He liked showing them the ropes of pirating as well as being the protective older sibling.

Y/N enjoyed being the younger sibling too. They learned a lot of things following Izzy along. Plus they taught Izzy a thing or two, like it was okay to accept comfort and to let himself be vulnerable around them and their Caregivers.

And in return Stede and Ed became the two’s permanent Caregivers. Ed took on the title of Papa for both Littles. Stede took on the tittle of Dadee with Y/N, and Dad with Izzy. Both nicknames being chosen by their Littles of course.

Today with most of the crew off-ship, the Littles has a chance to really let loose and play around the ship without causing trouble for anyone else.

Ed and Stede sat on the main deck drinking tea and watched as Y/N and Izzy ran around playing sword fight with one another. Ed recently bought the two wooden swords. That way they didn’t seriously hurt one another when regressed.

“This is my ship and you’re trespassing!” Izzy yelled as he held his sword towards Y/N.

“I’m the new owner of this ship! So it is you who is trust-passing.” Y/N yelled back.

“It’s trespassing darling.” Stede helped.

“Oh, right. It’s you who’s tres-pass-ing!” Y/N corrected, taking the time to carefully say it properly.

Stede and Ed couldn’t help but smile at their Littles who ran around the ship giggling and clinking sword together.

“Me and my first mate Papa found this ship far and square.” Y/N ran over and pulled Ed arm. Ed gladly played along, putting his tea cup down and standing beside Y/N.

“That’s right, we found this ship first.” Ed smirked.

“Oh yeah?” Izzy then joined in the fun, pulling on Stede’s arm to join him. “Well my first mate said we saw this ship first so it’s ours.”

Stede happily joined in the fun. Putting his tea cup down and standing beside Izzy with his hands on his hip. “That’s right, my captain here found this ship before anyone else. And I was there to see it.”

“There! That otta sort things out. So if you’re on our ship uninvited then you’re our prisoners!” Izzy leaned against the side railing of the ship.

“Not too close to the edge of the ship Iz.” Ed called out.

While Izzy was distracted with what their Papa was saying, Y/N took off to another part of the ship.

When Izzy realized Y/N had disappeared he stomped his foot, “Damnit!”

“Izzy! Language!” Both Ed and Stede corrected.

Izzy muttered a small apology and quickly hid his eye roll before he took off on the hunt for Y/N.

He checked the ships kitchen, no Y/N. He checked their shared bedroom, no Y/N. He even checked the captain’s quarters, no Y/N.

Now Izzy was getting frustrated. Their game wasn’t hide and seek! It was sword fighting!! He was the oldest, he chooses the game!

Just as he was about to check another area of the ship when he noticed the bathroom door slightly open. He inched his way over, planning to jump in and scare Y/N, but the bathroom was empty.

But inside was a clue to what might’ve happened. On the wooden floor sat a puddle next to the toilet. Izzy sighed, his frustration leaving him and being replaced with worry for his sibling.

He followed on, looking to the top deck where the ship’s wheel was. There sitting in a ball was Y/N, softly crying to themselves.

Izzy put his sword down and made his way over to his sibling. “Y/N, it’s alright. It’s just an accident.”

To be honest he didn’t understand why they were upset to begin with. Their headspace was younger than his so he knew they were prone to accidents from time to time. Izzy himself never teased or made fun of it, knowing that he himself had an accidents on the occasion.

“It’s not just an accident Iz. I was supposed to be big today.” They turned around and faced him. “I told Papa I wanted to be big like you today and that I didn’t need to wear protection. But I couldn’t make it to the bathroom in time.”

Izzy listened on, taking a seat on the floor across from Y/N. “You know Papa and Dad won’t be mad or disappointed in you for having an accident. They see it all the time. I’m sure they’ll-.”

“No! I don’t want them to know.” Y/N casted their eyes down.

Izzy sat back a bit, looking at Y/N confused. Their light brown pants were now a darker shade of brown around their inner legs. Anyone could clearly take one look at them and see that they had an accident.

“Well…it’s going to be a bit hard to hide this.”

“What am I going to do Izzy? Do you have any ideas?”

Izzy was about to say no, but then an idea popped into his head, a rather crazy but workable idea.

He quickly stood up, “I have an idea, but you’re going to have to trust me on this one.” He held his hand out for Y/N to take.

Y/N looked at him quizzically, sure they trusted him…but they didn’t trust the look in his eye at the moment. Regardless they took his hand, “I trust you.”

Izzy smirked, “Good, now follow my lead.”

He led them over to the side of the ship. There he picked them up and sat them on the railing. With a quick glance to Papa and Dad making sure they weren’t paying attention, he continued on.

“Izzy…what’s the idea you had in mind?” Y/N asked after a moment, still patiently sitting on the railing.

“Well I was thinking, how can they see your accident if you’re soaking wet all over? CATCH!”

Before the idea had even had a change to click into Y/N’s head, Izzy threw a sack of potatoes towards them. Y/N caught the potato’s but the momentum threw them off and sent them overboard, splashing into the water below.

Ed and Stede stood up and rush to the side of the ship as Y/N lifted their head from under the water.

“Y/N?! Are you okay?!” Stede quickly yelled out.

Y/N nodded their head, “I think I’m okay Dadee.” They called back up.

“Oh no! I’ll save them!” Izzy called out from the top deck.

Before Ed or Stede even had a chance to let out a single word against it, Izzy had thrown his sword, boots and gloves off to the side and jumped over the railing into the water below.

But his heroics were met with an angry Y/N who splashed and pushed him in the water. “Are you kidding me? Throwing me overboard?! Are you crazy?!”

“I think a thank you is in order! After all I fixed your problem.”

“By knocking me overboard?!”

“Are your pants wet?”

“MY WHOLE BODY IS WET!”

“See? No accident in sight. You’re wel-.” Izzy was interrupted to a mouth full of sea water as Y/N splashed him.

“You could have just dumped a bucket on me!”

“If you had all the brilliant ideas then why did you ask me?”

“Because I didn’t have any ideas of my own but I didn’t think your idea would involve me getting thrown overboard!”

SPLASH!

Right between the two of them splashed Ed, who jumped into the water after the Littles.

“Papa!” Y/N said swimming over to him, Izzy not far behind.

“No need to worry. Papa’s come to get his little trouble makers,” Ed joked, “Come on you two, Dad’s putting the ladder down for us any second now.”

Right on schedule Stede threw the ladder over the side of the ship for the three of them to climb. Ed helped Izzy first, then he helped Y/N, before climbing up himself.

Once on the desk Stede wrapped Izzy, then Y/N in nice warm towels. Truth be told, the water was nice and warm but with the fall weather the air had a cold crisp to it.

Y/N was shivering, wrapped tightly in their towel. Izzy was trying to play it off but Stede could see right through the act.

Soon Ed climb aboard and grabbed the last towel from Stede.

“We’re going to have a chat about what happened. But first I want you two dry before you catch a cold.”

With Izzy’s hand in one and Y/N’s in the other, Stede led the two Little’s into the captain’s quarters to be taken care of. Ed followed along, drying his hair with the towel.

“Now you two wait here while I gather your things.” Stede placed a towel on the ground infront of the fireplace. He had them sit while he grabbed some supplies for the two of them.

Ed stayed behind, helping the two start drying their hair while they waited for Stede’s return. “Alright you little rascals. Let Papa dry your hair.”

The only thing is, Ed is a bit rough when it comes to drying their hair so Izzy and Y/N were trying to squirm away.

Ed chuckled, “Come on! Stay still!”

Stede popped into the Little’s room to grab them some fresh dry clothes. Instead of regular clothing he decided upon pajamas for the both of them, hoping the soft textures will be enough to entice them to take an afternoon nap.

With arms full of clothing he started to make his way back to the cabin when he noticed the bathroom door open. He shook his head, no one on this ship remembers to close the bathroom door.

But when he went to close the door, something caught his eye inside the bathroom. Then suddenly the accidental overboard business was starting to make sense.

Stede grabbed a mop and quickly tidied the mess up before closing the door. With another pit stop at the Little’s room once more for an extra item or two, he made his way back to his room.

Sitting on the couch were his now less damp Littles and his husband, trying his best to get the fussy Littles all cleaned up.

“Alright everyone, I come barring dry clothes for the two of you. But before we get you two changed, what exactly happen?”

Y/N and Izzy froze. They looked at each other worried.

Stede continued on, “One moment you were playing swords and the next Y/N was falling overboard. How did this happen?”

Izzy cooled his features. With a look of I’ve got this to Y/N, he started to explain, “You see, Y/N and I were playing but then we got tired of that game. So we started playing catch. Y/N sat on the railing as I would throw things back and forth to them. But I overthrew a sack of potatoes and when they grabbed it the weight of the sack sent them flying off the ship.”

Stede looked confuses, “You threw them a sack of potatoes to catch?”

Izzy shrugged, “I thought they could catch it.”

Stede crossed his arms and shook his head, “Izzy, you know that was too heavy for Y/N to catch. Roach is going to be very disappointed his sack of potatoes is at the bottom of the sea too.”

Ed crossed his arm and looked at me, “And Y/N, you know the rules. You’re not allowed to sit on the railing under any circumstances. It’s too dangerous and this just proves it.”

Tears started to collect in Y/N’s eyes. They didn’t want to be in trouble, but they didn’t want Izzy to get in trouble with the truth out. So they nodded their head and wipes their tears away, “I forgot Papa. I’m sorry.”

Ed always tries to be the tough one, but seeing Izzy or Y/N upset crumbles him to the ground. “Awwww, it’s alright Y/N. There’s no need to be upset. I think this whole situation is enough of a lesson as to why we don’t sit on the railings, right?”

Y/N sniffed and nodded their head. “Never again.”

Stede decided to step in, “Ed, could you take Izzy’s clothes and help him get changed in our bathroom? I’ll help Y/N get changed out here.”

Ed nodded, having a sense of what Stede was doing. They both needed a little moment away for some added comfort. So he took Izzy’s hand and led him off to the bathroom.

Once alone with Y/N, Stede leaned forward and wiped their tears away. “There, there, darling. You’re okay. Everything is okay.”

“Let’s get you out of these wet clothes.” Stede both said and asked. Y/N nodded before Stede started to help them.

The lie started to eat away at Y/N. Before Stede even had a chance of asking about the accident, they spoke up.

“I’m sorry Dadee.”

“Sorry about what?” He asked as he continued.

“Izzy is just covering up for me. Everything he said was true…but he purposely threw the potatoes at me so I would fall into the ocean. I asked him to.”

Stede stopped and looked at Y/N confused for a moment. But then the final piece of the puzzle set into place.

Stede nodded with a hum, “Would that be because a certain someone had an accident?”

Y/N didn’t say a word, just nodded their head as tears began to fall.

“Oh darling, there no need to be upset. Papa and I would never be upset with you over an accident.” Stede tried to reassure.

“It’s my fault! I told Papa I didn’t need to wear protection this morning because I wanted to be big like Izzy. But I’m not!” Y/N cried out.

“Y/N, Papa wouldn’t have been upset if you had an accident today. What did I tell you before we met Izzy?”

Y/N sniffed and wiped a couple of tears away, “I don’t remember.”

“I said not to compare your headspace to his. He is a lot older than you. But that doesn’t mean he’s any better or worse than you. It just means his needs are going to be different from your needs and that’s okay.”

“It’s okay if you have accident and need to wear protection. Papa and I are well prepared and are happy to accommodate your needs, just as we do for Izzy.” Stede explained.

“So you’re not mad?” Y/N shyly asked.

“No of course I’m not mad, only worried. I don’t want you to feel as though you need to hide away every time you have an accident. From now on I want you to find Papa or I right away. Understood?”

Y/N nodded their head, the relief starting to show in their face.

“Good. Now I leave it to you, would you like to wear a little bit of extra protection for the rest of today or would you prefer not to?” Stede asked. “I won’t judge you, norwill anyone on this ship. It’s not about what everyone else needs, it’s about what you need.”

“Could…could I wear a pull-up…just incase.” Y/N asked, a bit shy.

Stede nodded, “Of course, just incase.” He winked.

Stede helped Y/N finish getting changed. Once dressed in their pajamas, he lifted them up into his arms and held them in a tight hug.

“I adore you more than all the grains of sand in the ocean or all the fish in the sea.”

Y/N held Stede tightly, “I love you too Dadee. Thank you.”

Stede chucked, “You never need to thank me darling. I’m happy to be here for you and so is Papa.”

The two stayed like that, just having a nice moment together. Stede held Y/N tightly in his arms, rocking and swaying them back and forth. There nothing Stede loved more than holding his little one close. Well, second only to Ed.

And speaking of him…

Ed and Izzy emerged from the bathroom soon after. Izzy held Ed’s hand and stuck close to him, dressed in pajama with Ed dressed in more comfortable clothes too.

“I tried to convince this one that we were all taking a nap, but someone doesn’t believe me.”

“We can’t all take a nap. Who would watch the ship?! Plus I’m not even tirreeedddd.” Izzy dramatically said.

“Israel,” Stede called out, “The ship will be fine. You and Y/N could use a little rest before everyone gets back before dinner.”

“Could you…read us a book Dad?” Izzy shyly asked Stede.

Stede’s face lit up to the request, “Of course I can. Why don’t you help me pick a book while Papa gets the bed ready for all of us?”

Izzy happily nodded along before darting to the mini library on the other side of the room. Stede traded off Y/N from his arms to Ed’s, who happily accepted the sleepy Little.

“Papa!” Y/N happily said, wrapping their arms around him.

“My little sweetheart. You ready for a little nap?” Ed said, rocking them the same way Stede bad before.

“Yeah,” They said with a yawn, “Papa cuddle?” Truth be told Ed had some of the best cuddles.

Ed chuckled, “Of course sweetheart. Where would I be without my little cuddle bug?”

While Stede and Izzy went through the library looked for the absolute best story, Ed and Y/N got comfortable in bed cuddling together. But Y/N sat up for a moment.

“Papa…Izzy was just covering up for me today. I just didn’t want you to know I had an accident after trying to be big. I’m sorry I lied to you.”

Ed chuckle a little, “I figured as much. That sounds like Izzy.”

But then he shook his head, “There’s no need to be sorry. You know I don’t care about something as little as an accident. I’ll love you the same way whether you have one or a thousand accidents. I would be lost without my little cuddle bug.”

With a kiss to the top of their head, everything felt right in the world again. Y/N cuddles closer to Ed. His arm wrapped around their shoulders, their head placed gently on his chest. It really was the truth, he always gives the best cuddles.

The rest of the afternoon went peacefully for the four. All of them cuddled together in their big bed listening as Stede read one of his fairy tale novels.

Within two minutes, Y/N was asleep against Ed, satisfied and comfortable being their own Little with their own headspace. Izzy, despite not being tired, fell asleep half way through the story, cuddled close to Stede.

Stede looked over at Ed and Ed looked over at Stede as their Littles slept. They just smirked and shook their heads.

“Did Izzy tell you the truth?” Stede whispered.

“Oh yeah. While we were getting changed he told me what really went on. How about you?”

“Y/N has never been good at lying, especially when regressed and especially when it’s with the two of us.”

Again the two shook their heads. They truly loved their troublemakers through and throughout. They would change a thing about them, loving them just the way they were.

28 notes · View notes

jackfrombaskinrobbins · 1 year

Text

daredevil fam celebrating teen!intern!reader's birthday! (headcanons)

type of writing: headcanons / scenario

word count: 906

request: yes / no

original request: “HIII FAVORITE AUTHOR OMG ok soo my birthday is comin up on the 19th and i was just wondering how the daredevil fam would help celebrate w a teen!reader -- intern or adopted kid, whichever you’re feelin. and there’s literally no rush! i’m just excited that my birthday’s coming up :) “

dynamic: daredevil fam (nelson murdock & page) x teen!intern!reader

characters: reader, matt murdock, foggy nelson, karen page, josie, marv LMAO

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! omg i hope u have the best day ever!! this request was SO FUN to write & i rly loved thinking up how the fam would help celebrate!! i used a more professional looking pic bc i think these headcanons may be my most chaotic LMAO 🫶

taglist: @nutellani @thecloudedmind

(fill out this form if you'd like to be on my taglist!!)

-----------------------✰----------------------

ok so the way they found out it was ur birthday is lowkey stalker-ish

maybe not full stalker but it’s not like it was out in the open.

a certain… ahem…. fogwell foggy foghorn fogster fog jr

i forgot his full name this is embarrassing so let’s pretend i said that on purpose as a joke!!

haha hehe omg mae ur so funny

why thank you!!

anyways he was looking in ur file that ur school had given nelson murdock & page so that u could legally work there

and he saw that ur birthday was in two days!!!

two days!!!

so he was in full panic mode

below are real (YEAH, REAL!!) texts he sent to karen & matt

i gotta prepare myself yknow i gotta get in that foggy texting headspace

ok i'm ready

ahem

“OMG (oh my gosh) 😱😱😱😱!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! y/n’s birthday is in TWO DAYS 🚨🚨🚨RED ALERT RED ALERT 🚨🚨🚨we have to do something for them!!!!!! like maybe get a gift 🎁or some cake 🍰🧁🎂? they would like that, right? of course they would, who doesn’t like cake 🤩🤩🤩🤩?? well, except for you matt 😡😡i judge you for that. JK (just kidding) LOL (laughing out loud)... or am i🤔🤔?? anyway we need to be READY!!!”

imagine matt’s text to speech reading that

like it would be saying “exclamation point” until the end of time LMAO

(laughing my ass off)

HAHA

also i do think matt prob doesn’t like cake

he prob would want one of those meatloaf cakes for his birthday like the ones that ppl “frost” with mashed potatoes? they seem like his vibe

ok anyways so you were kinda suspicious when you got to the firm the next day

you had a lot of stuff to file so you were trying to get down to it

but then they all kept coming over and asking questions

“hey, y/n. what’s your favorite color?”

“[your fave color].” you answered

and karen nodded but she took out her phone and made a note so you were like “hm”

but you thought nothing of it

and then matt came over

and he was like “what’s something you like”

and you were like “...”

and he said “well?”

and you were like “just… anything?”

“yeah.”

“uh… i like watching baseball. and … cats.”

“ok, baseball and cats. perfect.”

and then he smiles as he walked away because he understood that he just unintentionally made the perfect pun

THE PURRFECT PUN OMG

so that was kind of funny

and kind of sweet bc like maybe they were trying to connect w u more!

but then u saw foggy taking a picture of u filing

“foggy, what the hell are you doing??”

you knew they didn’t like you swearing in the office but y’all desperate times call for desperate measures

“uh.. i’m… taking a selfie.”

“yeah? let me see.”

so he tried to hide it from you

but it was very clearly a photo of you!!!

“foggy --”

“y/n. it’s a new filter. don’t worry. it only LOOKS like you. it’s actually me.”

“uh-huh.”

so you went to bed that night kinda nervous

like were they going to kill u or something??

did u need a witness??

oh well

anyway so the next day was ur birthday!!

yayyyyyy

happy birthday to u happy birthday to u happy birthday y/n happy birthday to u

that was from me to u reader, but ik u wanna know what matt and foggy & karen say so i’ll go do that

you were lowkey scared to go in the office

bc again, they were all acting weird

AND AS SOON AS U OPENED THE DOOR

u heard foggy whisper “go”

and then nothing

and you heard foggy curse and karen was like

“we told you these confetti poppers were expired!!”

regardless, they all were like “SURPRISE!!!”

and you were totally floored

bc this was like so nice

& u never expected for them to do anything for ur birthday

THEY EVEN GAVE YOU A GIFT!!

really really nice seats to a baseball game!!

not that it mattered for matt where u sat 💀

OK SORRY I'M DONE W THAT

and yeah they were gonna go with you

which was so cute like aww

KAREN MADE YOU CUPCAKES

bc lets be honest she would be the best baker

and she piped these like little cats on them!!!

they were so cute

except for the fact that they weren’t in the fridge so they were kind of half melted

but you loved them so much it literally didn’t matter

if you didn’t suspect that this internship was the best thing to ever happen to you before, you definitely had it confirmed now.

ok last little anecdote so i don’t end on such a cheesy note

HAHA

after u did some filing

ok it was ur birthday but that didn’t mean u got out of work

the fam took u to josie’s and foggy told her it was ur birthday

and she was like “happy birthday kid.”

and then she looked him straight in the eye and was like “you’re not getting food for free because of that.”

but guess what?

everyone in the bar was pretty jolly bc its a bar guys ppl drink

anyway so they sang happy birthday to u!!

ur fave old man marv (who u had that wing eating contest with once) led the singing

IT WAS THE BEST DAY EVER :D

-----------------------✰----------------------

#daredevil fam x teen!intern!reader #daredevil #daredevil headcanons #matt murdock x teen!reader #matt murdock #matt murdock headcanons #karen page #karen page x teen!reader #karen page headcanons #foggy nelson #foggy nelson x teen!reader #foggy nelson headcanons #nmcu daredevil #nmcu headcanons #mcu headcanons #mcu #marvel #marvel headcanons

86 notes · View notes

hero-deserves-to-be-happy · 23 days

Note

As per post I saw about you wrote about imagining Hero crying over deleted unrelated posts -

I just got a stark imagery of Hero being a hoarder in a "but what if I need this later" way, like adding a loose wire/charger/cord thing to a box already full of them (but organized neatly) or other things like that.

I found it funny and maybe this blog would appreciate the contrasting ideas that is Hero being clean and organized (as per his side of the room) while being a hoarder at the same time. How would he deal 😂

Hi there! Thank you so much for your ask! We absolutely love getting to talk to fellow Hero enthusiasts and were so excited you wanted to share some Hero thoughts with us! (A/N: I (Acacia) am briefly breaking my hiatus to take this one because I actually wrote about Hero’s “secret” messy junk drawer in a fic once. ^^ Needless to say, I really vibe with this idea and it fits really well with my own personal headcanons & perceptions of Hero as a character!)

This is such a fun headcanon and given that Hero is so practical, it definitely makes sense to me. I can absolutely imagine him being the type to agonize over throwing things out sometimes because, exactly like you said, he’d question “What if I or somebody else needs this someday?” even if he already has plenty of whatever it is already. Your imagery of Hero with the overflowing box of cords is awesome! Love that very much!! I can totally imagine Kel just casually asking him “hey you got an extension cord?” and Hero pulls out an entire box with 20+ cords in it 😂😂 Perfect!

In my mind, Hero is also very responsible and kind of thrifty/discerning about how he spends his money, at least on himself. We see in the canon he’s extremely generous when spending on other people such as when he gives Sunny $10 to buy flowers for his mom even though they only cost $2 a piece, but as with a lot of Hero’s kindnesses, I don’t think he extends that generosity to himself (perhaps why Kel is so insistent on buying him the cookbook as a present since he knows it’s a luxury Hero would enjoy but wouldn’t buy for himself, but I digress) I can see his responsibility playing into the hoarding too with him thinking “It would be irresponsible to throw this out because I might need it someday and if I do I’d just have to buy a new one.”

As to how he would deal given the fact that he is so neat, tidy, and organized, I agree he would try to keep his collections organized as best he can, but I also agree it would be hard to deal with overflow, so perhaps they end up in some messy junk drawers somewhere which are likely kept “secret” on account of them being so messy (not because they hold anything embarrassing).

Everything of Hero’s is so perfectly organized on the surface and, to be fair, often under the surface (i.e. I imagine his sock drawer is probably color coded), so you likely couldn’t tell just by looking at Hero’s living space that he had a tendency to hoard things as everything is so clean and minimalistic, like a room in a catalog. But then he has this secret messy drawer (or in this case multiple drawers) filled with the randomest old things like a bunch of cords, batteries, papers, and other odds and ends he thinks might be useful later…

He hides these disorganized drawers because they’re a mess and he’s Hero—everything about him is perfect. A mess of any kind even in a hidden drawer nobody will probably ever see is unlike him, but I’m inclined to think maybe it isn’t that unlike him after all. Hero’s room looks perfect, but there’s still a small messy space, a part of it that’s less than perfect—a part that’s real and lived in, just like Hero himself in a way. Hero appears perfect, but under all his accomplishments, accolades, and successes, his role as this idolized big brother to the group, and Sunny’s idealized view of him in Headspace, there is part of him that’s just a little bit messy, a part of him that’s just little bit less than perfect. A part of him that’s real.

He’d rather everyone think of him as perfect and plays along with pretending he is because he doesn’t want anyone to worry about him, but the truth is, he doesn’t have to be perfect and pristine all the time and it would probably be better for him if he wasn’t. He deserves to be a little messy, to have an unorganized drawer or a whole collection of extra cords he “might need later.” He deserves to be human.

Thank you so much again for the ask! Our ask box is always open for respectful Hero thoughts, questions, discussion, and/or appreciation so please don’t be shy, fellow Hero enthusiasts. We love hearing from you! Take care 💙

#thank you so much again for the ask!!#love this headcanon!!#hero omori #omori hero #mini hero meta #mini omori meta #hero character analysis #answered asks

10 notes · View notes

oftlunarialmoon · 4 months

Text

REAL TALK- Living with Anxiety

originally posted to www.onlyfunthings.org on February 08, 2017

Ciao lovelies! Today’s post is another REAL TALK post, meaning it includes anecdotes, and some content not suitable for younger readers (possibly, depending on your sensitivities.) Today’s REAL TALK is about living with Anxiety.

I wanna start by throwing out some general statements to outline the general idea here. Anxiety is a real problem. Many children, teens and adults in America face it, in fact, 5.7 % of adults in the USA have severe generalized anxiety, 25.1 % of teens 13-18 have anxiety that lingers through their lifetime, and 28.8 % of adults have any kind of anxiety, with the average age of onset being a mere eleven years old. (source-https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/statistics/prevalence/any-anxiety-disorder-among-adults.shtml thank you to the anon in the comments for finding the better link! ). Anxiety is a horribly prevalent disease, bordering on an epidemic. Yet many don’t talk about this subject, dismissing it as “just nerves” and the like. But Anxiety can really control and ruin your life. There are many different types of Anxiety, the most common being generalized and social.

I, myself, have Anxiety, and it is a constant challenge to overcome it to do the things I love.

I love to go to conventions and cosplay, but at first, my Social Anxiety made it impossible. I would have Anxiety and Panic attacks when going to conventions. I couldn’t go into the crowded dealers rooms and I certainly couldn’t ask my favorite cosplayers for a photo. My first few conventions were no fun because of my Anxiety.

But I wanted to enjoy my conventions. So I pushed myself into the situations that scared me. I even got to the point where I could host a panel!

Am I saying that you should force yourself into uncomfortable situations to overcome your Anxiety? NO. Anxiety attacks are horrible experiences that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. The feeling of your chest tightening, the fight-or-flight response making your body shaky, the confusing and vulnerable headspace...It's awful.

No, to be honest, I don’t really know a healthy way to “overcome” Anxiety disorders. I know ways to help cope, however.

I personally prefer physical coping mechanisms. Things like fidget toys occupy my hands when they anxiously want to fidget, breathing techniques can help calm my chest, and even chewing gum can help curb anxious feelings.

When all else fails, I allot myself the time required to come down from an Anxiety Attack.

I also utilize ASMR videos to help with night time Anxiety, and insomnia and nightmares from Anxiety.

I think that everyone is different when it comes to what helps with Anxiety. There is not one universal method. But I encourage you to try out different methods! It may surprise you what works for you!

Here are some other techniques I’ve seen to cope with Anxiety and symptoms:

-Aroma Therapy: apparently, scents like lavender and citrus have been said to calm the mind. (Sources- http://www.healthyandnaturalworld.com/best-essential-oils-anxiety-depression/

http://info.achs.edu/blog/depression-and-anxiety-can-essential-oils-help )

-Herbal Tea: Teas like Chamomile and rose can help with Anxiety symptoms.

(Source- http://www.calmclinic.com/anxiety/treatment/healing-tea

http://www.naturalnews.com/043048_herbal_tea_anxiety_relaxation.html )

-Watching Slime Videos: Many people have said slime videos help with their anxiety. I have covered the rise of the “Slime Trend” before, but never really included any videos, so watch the video below to see if slime videos work for you!

youtube

-Coloring Books: Coloring books like these adult coloring books have surged into popularity as a tool for anxiety sufferers.

Please just know that you are not alone. Remember, 28% of American adults have some form of Anxiety. Talking about Anxiety and other mental difficulties has become much more socially acceptable now, so never feel afraid to talk about it.

Here are some more resources for Anxiety Sufferers:

How to recognize a panic attack

How to cope with a panic attack

Thank you all for reading, I’ll see you in my next post!

Stay strong and remember to love yourself!

7 notes · View notes

lachimolala22019 · 1 year

Text

Oneshot

GIFTS AND CUDDLES

Your Bubba yoongi had been gone on the tour for a month, and was now finally returning to you with some gifts and cuddles to make up for the time he was away.

Pairing: Yoongi x little!reader

Warnings: age regression, little reader, caregiver yoongi, ddlg, pet names, little space, fluff.

Words:

Note: if you don't like to read little space story then leave.

MAIN MASTERLIST

I was waiting for my Bubba Yoongi to come home from his tour, he was gone for almost a month now and was final coming back home. In this one month, I missed him so much even through he called me daily to check up on me and video called me. It was not enough as he couldn't hold me close to his chest where I could listen to his heartbeats. It's been too long since I have slept in his arms.

Since he was finally going to be back I could spend alot of time with him. I already thought of the games I wanted to play together with him. Since he would have off from work for 7 days before going back.

Right now I was playing with my RJ plushie which was a gift that Jin oppa gave me on his birthday. I was not in too little headspace, maybe around 7-9years.

There was a sound of the door opening and I ran toward the door knowing that it must be my Bubba since he is the only one who knows the password to the door.

"Bubba" I exclaimed with joy and ran toward him I jumped into his arms and hugged his neck tightly with my hands, my legs warped around his waist. I Burried my face in his neck "Bubba I missed you so much" I told him with a pout on my face.

"Baby, I missed you too" He said as wrapped his arms around me two leaving the handle of the suitcase to hold me better. He gave me a peck on my cheeks and walked toward the couch with me held securely in his arms.

He sat on the couch the couch and adjust me into his lap in a more comfortable position and asked, "Were you a good girl for Bubba when he was not here? Did you eat all your meals on time and went to bed on time hmm"

"Yes Bubba I did, I was a really good girl for you" I replied with a smile on my face. "You did so good baby, Bubba is proud of you,I love you my baby, It was so boring when my baby was not with me.

"I love you too Bubba I was also bored without you, No one was here to help me color my drawing book."

"But now I am here baby I will help you with your drawing book." "I brought a gift for you and some of your favorite snacks from there."

Hearing about gifts my eyes lit up in exitiment and a wide smile formed on my face,"Gift for me? Really, Thank you so much Bubba." I jumped from his lap in exitiment and went to get the suitcase to find my gift.

"Be careful baby, let me help you." Bubba said as he walked toward me and took the heavy suitcase from me and put in on the table in the living room. He opened and suitcase and took out a nice looking box, the box looked like a jewelry box.

"Here, open it baby." He gave me the box.I opened the box carefully and saw what was inside it. There was a pretty necklace with a gold chain the the pendent had a white flowers with a yellow gem in the middle.

"It looks pretty Bubba, Thankyou so much." I say in awe, "can you help me put it on, please." I looked at him with big eyes eager to wear the necklace.

"You're welcome baby, give it to me so I can put it on you." He extended his hand toward me to hold the necklace. I gave him the necklace and turned around to make it easier for him to put it on.

He gently clasped the necklace on my neck, I turned around and showed him "how does it look Bubba?" I asked him "It looks so pretty on my beautiful baby." He said with a sweet smile on his face happy to see my smile.

I suddenly yawned feeling tired suddenly since It was my nap time. "Looks like someone is tired, let me put you to nap baby" He said look at me with a endearing eyes.

"Will you nap with me Bubba, I missed cuddling you." ," Of course baby I will let me bath and change my icky clothes, then I will give you cuddles. You go and lay on bed and wait for me."

I nodded to tired to talk and went to my room with RJ held close in my arms. I entered the room and layer on the bed and covered myself with warm blanket.

10 minutes later yoongi came and found his baby trying her best to not sleep. He went near her and gently lay beside her in the blanket. He hugged her his hands holding his waist and cuddling to her.

"Good night baby, I love you" , that was the last thing you heard before falling asleep in Yoongi's arms. Feeling safe and comfortable in the warmth you missed."

Author note: I hope you liked the chapter please check out my story AMETHYST .

Bye bye💜

#reader x bts #little space #little reader #btsxlittle!reader #ddlglittle #yoongi x reader #bts fluff #bts ff #oneshot #sfw smolspace

57 notes · View notes

itookyoudown · 8 months

Note

Are you still doing DVD commentary? Cause if so I would like to request the Entirety of blood work please? I tried to see if you'd done it or been asked about it but couldn't find....

“Where’d you serve?” Tim smiles, tight-lipped. “And where’d you die?”

Colt grins back. “A field in Helmand.”

Both the shady tree line and the pair of shades on his face protect him. Wards off the sun’s judgmental glare. And hides his eye color, red as the poppies where he fell.

“Who’s your maker?”

Colt chuckles and shows off his fangs. “You looking for one?”

“Not quite.”

The cowboy werewolf returns, interrupting their little chit-chat. Tim smiles at the alpha with dull teeth. Obeys the alpha’s call to leave with moon-struck eyes. They’re pack.

Raylan Givens’ sidekick? More like his bitch.

Of course! This ask game has been a lot of fun, I'll answer whatever anyone sends my way.

I'm so happy you brought this one up. I haven't gotten to really speak about this fic. March Madness drabble event my beloved! I'm still so thankful to @sublightsleeper to hosting it for us.

I love love LOVE paranormal/supernatural/urban (or rural) fantasy AUs and the setting/themes of Justified lend so well to the genre so I instantly knew I wanted to do something with vampires or werewolves.

I went with a Colt POV because I decided to experiment with a character I'd never written before and thought a drabble would be a great way to test out his headspace.

“Where’d you serve?” Tim smiles, tight-lipped. “And where’d you die?” Colt grins back. “A field in Helmand.” Both the shady tree line and the pair of shades on his face protect him. Wards off the sun’s judgmental glare. And hides his eye color, red as the poppies where he fell.

The opening of this was really tricky to write. I ended up re-writing the dialogue a few times because it was important to me that Colt and Tim actually have a conversation. I thought Tim's inquiry about where Colt served in canon would be a great way to jump into it without having to lay down any scene setting.

Every word counted for this challenge so I had to treat each one as a precious commodity lol.

Tim being tight-lipped and not showing his teeth was a leftover idea I had about Tim being a vampire too. I ended up discarding that idea, but I left this detail in as I enjoyed it as an early hint that Tim is hiding something AKA the implication that he and Raylan are sleeping together.

Helmand, of course, is the Helmand Province of Afghanistan. I debated between Colt dying in Helmand VS Korangal for quite a while. I went with Helmand in the end as I really liked the potential symbolism options better (red for poppies/opium/drugs/addiction, red for vampires, red for blood, red for war). Also yes, the implication here is supposed to be that Colt's military service is different from what we got in canon he probably wasn't a cage kicker.

And of course I just liked the idea that as a vampire in this verse, Colt's use of the sunglasses helps him hide from the sun.

“Who’s your maker?” Colt chuckles and shows off his fangs. “You looking for one?” “Not quite.” The cowboy werewolf returns, interrupting their little chit-chat. Tim smiles at the alpha with dull teeth. Obeys the alpha’s call to leave with moon-struck eyes. They’re pack. Raylan Givens’ sidekick? More like his bitch.

I don't really technically ship Colt/Tim because, well, I am a petty and Colt's hair is TOO LONG SORRY. I like the idea of them in theory, but in practice, I just can't go through with it myself. But I'm still fascinated by the dynamic he and Tim had in the show and love to see that explored further in fic.

They are the sidekick/henchman version of Raylan & Boyd! It kills me how alike they are, they're two side of the same coin. Colt could have been Tim and Tim could have been Colt! And I wanted to throw the rarepair of Colt/Tim a bone because it is rough out there I know how that is. Colt having an attraction/interest in Tim, even if it's one-sided, is why Colt turns from friendly/flirty to aggressive and disapproving on a dime. Also hinting at potential vampire clan VS werewolf pack drama.

The final line is just a perfect call back to Colt calling Tim Raylan's sidekick in canon so I had to bring it back around and tie it into the supernatural setting. And Colt's cut down of calling Tim a bitch is just meant to highlight his jealousy that Tim has potentially been mated by werewolf Raylan.

(author commentary ask game)

#tooks.txt #justie games #justie author commentary #colt rhodes #colton rhodes #colt/tim

4 notes · View notes

joifee · 4 months

Note

It sounds like you're putting a lot of pressure on yourself to be uniquely creative and exceptional. Ideas going nowhere or not sticking can be frustrating, but that's typically part of brainstorming process. You try out lots of ideas (many of which will be boring or bad) and pick the ones that you like best. And while making headcanons and AUs is fun, its not superior to making fanart/fics firmly in canon. I love seeing work and excitement about canon, like, that's why I'm a fan!

As far as possible brainstorming techniques:

Ask why. Then ask it again. Pick at the details. So you chose the color to match the base. Why was that color used on the base? Is there an in-world importance to the color? Is the color a result of the materials/resources in the culture? Make up a reason. Then step back and decide whether you like that reason/whether it makes sense.

Ask how. Does something seem ooc? How would it happen anyway?What circumstances would lead or force the character to act this way? How does a headcanon affect relationships or the character's experience?

List things you like or things that the character reminds you of. You could make an aesthetic collage or a big bullet point list. Keep adding to it until you run out of ideas, take a break, then add a couple more. Now that you have a ton of unrelated junk, just start sticking a couple or three together at random. Try and blend them into something cohesive and Then decide whether you want to keep it or toss it. Refining ideas comes later. Brainstorming is about throwing stuff at the wall and seeing what sticks; Discovering what you love and what you can do without.

Yeah that brings it pretty good to the point. I guess i am kinda still in the headspace when i still studied art education and had to visit practical courses where i got compared a lot to other students and you had to bring stuff that was new to really stand out.

Canon really is great isn't it? i think its my fav as well and it always will be. and its really really fun talking about that

I will try this method out as well!! the one with the colors is a nice explanation, i think i might be able to follow it^^

"Does something seem ooc? How would it happen anyway?" You don't know how much that actually lifts some pressure off me - like why shouldnt a character react like that thrown into a situation they never where in? Damn yes that will actually help me a lot!!!!

Thank you so much for your adive^^ i will attempt to work with it :D

#thank you so much #joifeeramble #advice #noting it down

3 notes · View notes

agent-cupcake · 2 years

Note

Hi!! I’m so in love with the way you write, especially when writing smut. Your descriptions are so beautiful and feral and GAH it’s something I’ve always wanted to emulate in my writing. Do you have any tips or resources for those who want to write better smut and sex? Love your work!!

Thank you so much!!!

I don't really have resources or anything I used to write better smut. I have a few thoughts, although I'm not sure they'll be useful to anyone and I really shouldn't be giving writing advice at all but here we are. It's going under the cut as it's a bit lengthy, I hope you're able to glean something from my word vomit.

The best thing is to, as a famed actual cannibal once said, just do it. Smut takes practice, it requires particular things of a writer. If you're reading something you think is hot, try and critically analyze what they do that you like. Bring that into your own writing, it's natural to adopt style and technique from writing you like. Hype focusing on originality isn't useful, you will naturally develop your own style even if you borrow from other writers.

My personal example of this, and the biggest thing I had to get over, is that I am very easily embarrassed, shy, and adverse to being too dirty. It doesn't come naturally to me, I get nervous and weenie out. It's something I've had to pick up from reading other people's stories to know how to effectively commit to reveling in the filthiness. But, basically, smut should feel illicit while you're writing it. Not wrong, but a little bit of that lizard brain needs to be engaged. I'm talking mostly about word choice and giving more graphic physical descriptions. State things that are happening as directly as you can instead of dancing around vulgarity. Indulge the vulgarity, embrace it. I'm a fiend who personally likes the color purple and if those adjectives and descriptive language adds to the physicality of the scene, add it. Make it sloppy, sex generally is. And then also just pussy, cunt, cock, tits—go out there and be wild, not only will you sound more mature (in a way that is somewhat paradoxical honestly), but it more easily puts the reader into that POV space because their brain doesn't have to work through euphemisms and gentle phrasing. Obviously you can go overboard with this, there's a balance to strike.

The other thing that is essential for me is maintaining an empathetic bond with the POV character and situation. This gets more into my writing theory that there is a time for careful, well constructed, analytical sequences and a time for purely emotional, sensory, feeling-driven sequences. Both of these require a very specific, and very different, state of mind.

When I'm writing foreplay, it's the former. I am incredibly particular and methodical about how things play out. Setting the scene, establishing the characters and their motivations, and directing the characters into the sexual encounter. Of course, there are a lot of "feeling based" aspects to getting this, but I need to think a lot more.

For smut, it's the later. I have to engage completely the scene and adopt the persona of the POV character. Like acting, I guess. I think about the sensory details that I (the character) would be most aware of, the emotions that I would experience, and what I might do. Arousal is certainly an aspect of that, I don't think I could write sexy smut if I didn't find it hot, but it's also about immersion. The last thing I want is my smut to be mechanical and detached which can easily happen if I don't put myself in that situation to some degree. And I admit, for darker scenes, it's intensive (even uncomfortable) to allow myself into that headspace, but I think it's worth it to explore the fantasy. Like, I, the person writing the words, don't want to be in these situations, but I find it thrilling to simulate that experience partly because of that discomfort, and I think that the more immersed I am in the scene, the more immersed the reader will be for the same reasons. If I can get into this headspace, it helps writing the sex itself so much easier. It stops being a matter of "what is going to happen next" and more of a natural flow because I understand the physical impulses that will escalate the encounter. Example: if [character] did x, and reader would most naturally respond with y, that would compel [character] to do z, and so on and so on. You have to consider character writing, yes, but the desires of somebody in a sexual encounter aren't exactly complex and, personally, I don't find it useful at all to care about realism, I know some people like that, but my sole focus is on selling a believable fantasy. If I'm having a lot of issues with finding this headspace, I am not joking, I'll stop writing and find something that reminds of me that feeling. This method is what leads to what I think are the "sexiest" things I've written because it came from what I was feeling (or, more accurately, imagining I'm feeling) and not what I was thinking. The sexiest stuff I've written came from times that I was pretty much dead to the world and wrapped up in the scene. I would never think up certain things in my thinking brain, but it seems natural once I've immersed myself. If you're writing and get an urge like "wouldn't it be hot if x happened" yes. It probably would be, add it in and see if it works, sexuality is a subconscious reaction and it understands what you find hot better than you do. Do you think I—shy, easily embarrassed idiot that I am—would actively think up Sylvain ordering reader to tell him how good it feels to get fucked by her brother? Not a chance.

Admittedly, writing like this can be a little messy. However, it's very likely that the POV character is going to be in a tumultuous state of mind. They'll be focused on the immediate now (especially the immediate physical things that are going on), and the thoughts they do have will be a disorganized mess. Horny and/or scared people aren't rational, it's more believable if they're trying to rationalize the irrational because of this hyper engaged emotional/physiological state which can be tightened up in editing. Usually, once I have the smut all written out, I'll go back and clean it up. Add in some nicer prose, clear up confusing sequences, that sort of thing.

My final piece of advice is that dialogue is one of the hottest aspects of smut. It isn't necessary and in some case it absolutely would be the wrong choice, but for me it is the shortest path into my pure lizard brain. This can be tough because you have to consider what would be believable for the character to say with regard to canon as well as what they would reasonably say in the moment, but it's worth it I think. A lot of times I'll write a line I think is sexy and fitting in the moment and then go back when I'm in editing brain to tweak it to fit the character. For a character like Emet-Selch who has such particular speech patterns, this is especially true. Even if the line is essentially the same in content, little changes to make it suit the character help with believability.

Hopefully some (or any) of this makes sense. Finding the right headspace took time and practice, and I have no idea if it'd work for anybody else. I am far from the best when it comes to this, and it's much better to go with what works for you than to follow the advice of any hack fraud.

#personal #not sfw #god this is a lot i'm sorry

20 notes · View notes