#life could be a bit lighter without that burden but it is but a dream | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

planetkiimchi · 2 years

Text

german words

summary — different types of long german words that describe a kind of pain. a lot of healing, angst and just soft stray kids moments that i feel like gives an insight to what's goes on without the cameras

featuring: bf!stray kids

warnings — 14+. contains a lot of swearing. some existential crises (chan’s and lino’s). trauma dumping. hints towards suicide by jumping off buildings (hyunjin’s). mentions of puking. y/n has an anxiety attack (changbin’s).

a/n: wanna dedicate this to @blue-jisungs and @cosmic-railwayxo, two writers i respect very much. (hope y'all don't mind being tagged.) i love u and i hope my comfort piece of writing makes you smile <;3 small caps on purpose !

weltschmerz

late night musings with chan

a/n: i learned this word from school, and it summarises the melancholic feeling of feeling despair at the state of the world. it directly translates to “world pain”, with welt meaning world, and schmerz meaning pain

chan has… a lot of thoughts.

his mind is very noisy, and on quiet nights, the silence suffocates him, because he’s left alone with the thoughts running in his mind, bouncing off each other and echoing in the empty room.

some of his thoughts are regarding music; some of them, what he’s going to eat next; some of them are about his workout routine; but the last of them are a bit sadder.

they’re about the world as a whole, when he dares to entertain his commentary on political figures and the safety of his lgbtqia+ stays, mental health issues and how it may concern his group members, and when he’s feeling selfish, he’ll think of how these issues affect himself.

you had to be there to get it, to see how these thoughts inflicted pain on him, how they kept him awake and tossing and turning and made you understand why he loved to throw himself into music or exercise.

because when he was concentrated on something else, there was no way his wandering mind could saunter back over to the thought of climate change and all the ways he should be trying to stop it.

it’s not like he didn’t know they were stupid sometimes. sure, stray kids probably contributed to carbon emissions whenever they travelled by plane and weren’t helping matters when they held concerts, but he also knew that music was a source of comfort for many stays and that he might just save a life.

he couldn’t help everyone, but his over-empathetic self needed to. he needed to be there for jeongin when he was panting during a performance, absolutely had to support han when he was getting socially anxious, definitely must look after hyunjin when his arm was injured.

chan needed to do so many things in the world. but there was not enough time! to deal with all the horrid, no-good things! so he felt a bit overwhelmed from time to time while the thoughts stayed at the back of his mind, bothering him like an itch he couldn’t quite reach to scratch.

so you offered a better way out: confrontation.

“tell me about it.”

it came out of nowhere, just seeing chan in huge discomfort as he tossed and turned, and slipped out as you were watching him.

but you’d like to think it relieved him, as the words came spilling out of him the way music spilled out when he was alone. you caught complaints about food waste and air pollution and orphans, heard curses he would never dream of saying on camera, and squeezed his hand when he couldn’t think of how to phrase it without breaking down in tears.

and when it was done, he looked lighter, like a heavy weight had been lifted off of his chest. he gave you a sheepish grin, and as his lips opened, you knew he was about to apologise for being a burden.

so before he could do so, you pressed a finger to your lips and hushed him.

“you are worth listening to. always. you must never apologise for the work i do, because it is so, so worth staying up a bit later to see the light return to your eyes and watch you be freer. i love to put in work to love you.”

the dams had been struggling to hold on even before you said that, but you opened the floodgates and soon silent tears were streaming down chan’s cheeks.

it might have been worse that you allowed yourself to wonder why he seemed to used to crying silently, but if you even strayed down that path for a moment, and considered how he never wanted to make anyone worry about him, and think of how he must have sobbed and wept by himself for all those years before –

no. you wouldn’t do that. you wouldn’t do that to yourself. you just held chan tighter, feeling how he fit right into your arms like a small child, and realising with a shock that he wasn’t actually all that big, and kissed the top of his head with great fervour and a fondness that couldn’t be expressed in words.

if chan were ever to experience that sort of weltschmerz again, you would always be there to help him through the desperate, helpless feeling.

mütend

empathy in debating with lino

a/n: to be angry and tired at the same time, especially in reference to the pandemic

“you know what’s dumb?”

you’ve gotten used to the way minho has a lot of pent-up anger and frustration about the world, and sometimes it explodes and he just has to rant to somebody about it.

today he seemed more tired and worn-out, so you weren’t expecting it, but you’re always ready to entertain his complaints about the state of the world.

“yeah?”

“what’s dumb is that pro-lifers are always talking about saving lives, but in denying safe abortions they’re actually increasing the risk of someone losing their life.”

you’ve heard minho say a lot of controversial things before, but this is one thing you can agree with.

“i agree,” you say amusedly, watching him as you lean on the kitchen counter.

“you know what else is dumb? it’s fucking dumb that people on the internet can judge a man by his actions and define him as something he did a long time ago when they’ve never met him and don’t even know what he’s like.”

you read too deep in between the lines sometimes. you know who minho is talking about, and the pain in his eyes when he says it speaks volumes. he’s tired of having haters talk about him like he won’t see it, act like one wrong move defines him as a person. he’s tired and angry and so sick of people acting like they know him when they don’t.

”you know what else is dumb?” his voice cracks, and you get up from your position on the counter, walking over to him and holding him. you sit down beside him and roll him over onto your lap until he’s straddling you.

you rest your hands on his hips. they fit comfortably onto the place where his skin dips into the bone, and your hands feel like they were made to hold him there.

“the dumbest thing- the dumbest thing is that i’m getting worked up about all this when there are kids that don’t even have proper education.”

he’s drained now, resting his face on your neck as angry tears roll down his cheeks. you don’t know how to comfort him except to keep repeating, “oh, minho” again and again, and to kiss his cheeks and periodically wipe his tears away.

”i’m so fucking selfish,” he whispers.

you tell him that no, he’s not, and that his struggles aren’t invalid because people have bigger struggles. his difficulties and the challenges he’s facing are real, and he has every right to be unhappy about it while still being concerned for the bigger issues that others face.

and it takes some time for it to sink in to him, because how dare he ever consider that he can have troubles without seeming like a spoilt brat? he’s spent his life donating to various charities because he’s got so much money and is so fucking privileged, that he has to find some way to give back.

but now he’s realising that he can still think about himself while worrying for others. it’s a revelation, and he’s stunned by it.

your hands drop to his waist as he sits up straight, adjusting himself. he smiles at you and cocks his head, tear stained cheeks flushed pink. “so then, y/n, care to tell me about some of your troubles? you always listen to me talk about the shit i’m going through, but i don’t think you’ve ever complained to me.”

you break out into a grin and tilt his chin up to meet your eyes. “that’s my boy. watch what you’re asking me to do, though, because i could bitch about my troubles forever.”

lebenslangerschickschatz

being tutored by binnie

a/n: highschool!au. sometimes it hurts to think about the things he knows and wants to share but can never put into words, but mostly it's beautiful to think of how changbin is your 'living treasure trove'

“binnie, i need help with math!” you call as you reach his house, pencil case in one hand and the other, brandishing your worksheet.

you can’t quite get quadratic equations, functions or expressions, not to mention identities or quadratic inequalities. and trying to express any of those as a graph? good luck to you.

but, fortunately, changbin, your ever-talented neighbour who often doubles as your saviour, does. he’s also hella good at explaining it to you, which is the reason you’ve found yourself frequenting the corridor between your apartments a lot lately to get his help.

changbin sticks his head out of the doorway. seeing you, he invites you into the house and you happily wave hello at his eomma. “hai, ahjumma!”

changbin’s eomma smiles fondly at you. “struggling with math again?”you nod and sigh. “aish, you hardworking children.”

“eomma, would you rather we don’t study at all? then you would never see y/n here any more,” changbin teases.

“no, i never said that. i love seeing y/n! now off you two go!” she says, shooing you away.

laughing, you make your way into changbin’s room. you make yourself comfortable on his bed, noting that he’s changed his sheets since the last time you visited.

he passes you a cup of water and you sit down as he begins talking you through the questions. when you think you’ve gotten it, you thank him and begin trying one on your own.

you’re halfway through the question when it hits you. out of nowhere, you start thinking about how you needed so much help just to do your homework — how are you ever going to do well on that test next week?

never mind doing well, actually — how are you even going to pass? the thought makes you want to puke, and you begin to feel like breathing is becoming difficult, and you’re hyperventilating.

the sobbing comes next, and before you know it, you’re having a full on break down. the thought of failure scares you so badly, but disappointing your parents and changbin and his parents is going to be so much scarier.

you don’t even notice changbin sweeping the math worksheet to one side and clearing the table in front of you, or him wrapping his arms around you and rocking you until you look through your eyelashes and realise that you almost cried onto your worksheet.

“hey, it’s all going to be okay. okay?” you sniff but don’t reply. he holds you and rocks you and asks, “can you hear me?”

you nod this time. “alright, i’m going to need a verbal answer, yeah? tell me how many fingers i’m holding up.”

you’re forced to bring your vision back into focus. “three,” you mumble.

“can you tell me three things you’re grateful for?”

“my parents, your parents, and you.”

he smiles softly. “and can i tell you three things?” he doesn’t wait for your answer, but you squeeze his hand to let him go ahead. “one: you’re not going to fail math. two: failing math is not going to disappoint anyone. it’s not going to make you a failure. it’s definitely not going to make anyone mad.“

he takes a deep breath, rubs your arm in a gesture of reassurance, and continues, “number three: we’ll always support you, even if you’re feeling like it’s the end of the world or when you’re at the top of the world. we’ll be there — my eomma thinks you’re better than me, anyway.”

he laughs, and you join in, tears forgotten.

”that’s poetic,” you say.

“well, i’m full of bullshit, aren’t i?”

“that wasn’t bullshit,” you say softly. “i needed that.”

it’s a bit foolish, but it took that long-winded pep talk by changbin for you to realise how lucky you were to have him as a friend. and if you weren’t properly grateful for him, you would be the one to regret it.

götterdämmerung

painting with hyune

a/n: i know that this tiktok challenge happened a LONG time ago, but hear me out, okay? it fits him so well. also, this word literally means 'twilight of the gods', and refers to the downfall of a regime

hyunjin is the fucking art.

you don’t know what it is about him but the angle of his wrist as he flicks the paintbrush, the way he licks his lips and looks just perfect in the moment with his neck crooked and his hair falling over his eyes –

hell, you could go on about hyunjin’s beauty all day, but that’s not what you were there for. you glance at the phone filming you and back down at your blank canvas, and realise that five of the fifteen minutes of your art challenge has passed, but you were too busy staring at your boyfriend to realise.

your hurried strokes and a sketch over the canvas probably isn’t going to compare to hyunjin’s, but since you suggested the tiktok challenge, you might as well actually start contributing to it.

you’re seeing skylines and a precarious person dangling over the edge of the roof, held on by a string, at the end of their tether. so that’s what you draw, until the timer rings and you see that all you’ve got is a guy doing the michael jackson lean, no skyline and definitely no rooftop.

out of context, it looks like just a vibing dude and all you’re missing is the outfit. you sigh because of how silly it is, but when hyunjin passes you his canvas, you sigh because you’ll never reach his standard.

he gives you a canvas with the rough outline of twelve (unless you counted wrongly?) people standing in front of a majestic building. given the large, still empty foreground, you get to work painting calming, cute and fluffy clouds.

if you had to put a context to this scene, you would say it’s the twelve gods standing at the top of mount olympus. you do your best to depict the grandeur and the majesty of this scene with powerful, strong golden strokes and vibrant colours as you wonder what hyunjin’s doing with yours.

since your paints are all dull and dark coloured (you were in your emo era when you began watercolour painting), you use oil pastels to colour in the detailed sketch.

when you swap canvases again, hyunjin has added a pool of water and a reflection, and your vibing dude doesn’t look like he’s vibing any more. which is good, you guess.

in the pool, you can see both the reflection of your person and a large building, which is hyunjin’s own way of making your guy hang from the rooftops. you smile secretly to yourself at how hyune and you literally read each other’s minds, and continue painting.

soon, you have a depressive scene of a man hanging over a pool of water and staring at his own reflection, held back by a thin strand of something that could be left to one’s imagination, and the corner of a building looming over him threateningly.

when hyunjin gives you back his canvas, you realise that his canvas has been fully covered in a layer of black acrylic paint.

“jinnie, what’s this?” you ask. technically speaking, you’re breaking the rules, because the point of the challenge is that you don’t know what the other is thinking of, but you are struck dumb by what he’s done to the beautiful painting, and have no idea how to go on.

“götterdämmerung.” twilight of the gods. it’s his favourite word, and only then do you realise what’s going on in that pretty head of his. he’s talking about the tragic downfall of the greek gods, brought on by their own flaws.

the symbolism that’s gone into his artwork is unfathomable. you swallow hard and try to do justice to it, adding a layer of paint and tinting the entire night a cool blue, adding flecks of white paint for stars in the glowing night.

recklessly, you decide to add a shooting star across the sky, just for good measure. to represent the rise and fall of a regime – and how even when it’s visible and beautiful and burning bright, it is already on its path to death.

when hyunjin returns your canvas to you, the two of you raise your finished pieces to the camera and grin. “that’s it for today, folks!” and as you do so, you brush over the fact that he’s touched your heart in such a simple way, and you do not comment on the fucking beauty and the work of art that is hyunjin.

mutterseelenallein

watching hanji compose his songs

a/n: this word literally means ‘mother souls alone’. it means that someone is truly all alone. it comes from the French "moi tout seu!" which means "me quite alone".

“han jisung.”

“mm?” jisung calls back, without looking at you. he’s extremely focused, clearly in the zone, and nothing is going to stop him from his lyric-writing.

his lips are pressed tightly together, eyes red, and jaw set into a hard line. his eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, several wrinkled lines marring his pretty face.

he types furiously, and occasionally lets out a frustrated groan. he drags his finger across his screen (probably arranging his beats? his ears are plugged, so you wouldn’t know) before he remembers that his computer isn’t touch screen and has to use his mouse instead.

“hanji, turn off the lights,” you groan. “it’s 2am, i need my sleep.”

the time that you say seems to get through to him, and he looks up, confused. “what do you mean-“ his voice cracks from dryness, and he takes a gulp from his forgotten bottle of water before continuing.

“it’s 2am? i thought it was still 12… oh.” his voice trails off as he catches sight of the time on his screen. he finally realises how late it is.

he looks back at you lying on the bed, and gets up. he walks across the room to turn off all the lights, leaving only the lamp on his desk still on. you hum, satisfied, and roll over in an attempt to sleep.

two hours later, you get up to visit the washroom, and see that jisung’s still at it. you gently take his bottle away and replace it with a flask of hot chamomile tea without him noticing, and move behind him and begin massaging his back.

his shoulder and back muscles are all taut, and you work at them until he relaxes them. once they’re no longer tensed up, he sets down his headphones and looks at you gratefully.

“thanks. i needed that, actually.”

he grounds himself in the present, taking some time to clock back in, having been absorbed in his music for the past six hours. he looks a bit giddy, so you make sure he doesn’t stand up until he’s fully present.

it’s so different to see jisung when he’s in producer mode. his answers are monosyllabic if you get one, because sometimes he just replies in grunts. it’s very different from the responsive, chatty jisung you’re used to.

but it also looks a little lonely for you to see jisung hunched over his screen and licking his lips, not acknowledging anyone else’s presence and being very solitary.

of course, you understand that jisung is an introvert, and that’s how he gets his “me time” when his social battery runs out, but it’s also concerning to know he can and would stay like that for days, not eating or even drinking, motionless except for the feverish typing of his fingers and the occasional stretch.

what if you weren’t there to force him to take a break? would he just stay like that forever, in a lonely world with only him and music to keep him company?

“whatcha thinking about?” he asks, out of genuine curiousity. leaning on you for support, he gets on his wobbly legs and stumbles his way to the bed. “pins and needles,” he explains.

you absently let him know that you’ve heard him, but you’re lost in your thoughts.

“is that what i look like when i’m producing music? your gaze is so… jaded,” he says, mildly horrified.

“yes, it is.” you shake your head to clear your thoughts. “that’s what i was thinking about, actually. you read my mind.”

he stays silent and waits for you to go on.

“i just- isn’t it awfully lonely sometimes, ji? just you and your music? because i don’t like to leave you to your own devices all that often, just in case once you get into it, i can’t get you out.”

he opens his mouth to answer, and closes it again, so you continue rambling on. “it’s scary for me, ji. what if i wasn’t here? would that just be your fate? it’s like you’re imprisoned in a one-dimensional world of music or something.”

“i…” he rubs his face tiredly. “look, y/n, i appreciate the concern, okay? i don’t think you have to worry about me, though. i can control myself. but i’m grateful that you can keep me in check, because even without you, i still need someone to help me snap out of it. minho-hyung and chan-hyung usually do it, but then you came along.”

he gives you a hug, quickly. “tell me more if you have any other of these thoughts, yeah? i enjoy talking with you.” and with that, he rolls over and is asleep in a matter of seconds.

kopfschmerzen

lix taking care of you when you're sick

a/n: ran out of words so this word just means headache

your back hurts like hell. it aches and you’re not even sure why. coupled with your spinning head and your scratchy throat, it’s a terrible morning and you can’t even see straight.

“i’m sorry i can’t kiss it better… we wouldn’t want us both to be sick, do we?” felix asks as he tends to you, wrapping an ice pack in a small cloth and placing it over your forehead.

you jerk up in shock at the cold sensation, but you lay still again as you let the chill seep into your skin, offering you momentary comfort.

he checks your temperature and looks at you anxiously. “your fever’s not going down.”

“i want brownies…” you mumble, rolling over onto your stomach and tilting your head up to look at felix. you look so pathetic and ill that it makes his heart ache, but he can’t fulfill your wish.

“i’m sorry, love, brownies are heaty. you can’t have them when you’re having a fever.”

there’s some part of you that wants to throw a fit, knowing felix can’t resist you and if you were to make a big fuss out of it, he would definitely cave. he is terrible at standing his ground when tantrums are involved.

you inwardly reprimand that childish side of you, knowing full well that if you’re sick much longer felix won’t be able to look after you any more, since the weekend will be over and he’ll have to go back to work.

“fine,” you say, and roll back onto your back. “then what can an invalid do?”

he squeezes your shoulder comfortingly. “want to watch something? it’ll keep you from being bored.”

you nod enthusiastically. “can we watch how to train your dragon? you’ve never had time to watch that before, right? it’s my favourite.”

felix grins. “of course! i’d love to.”

you put 'how to train your dragon' on, and as hiccup appears, you squeal loudly, causing felix to reach for the remote and pause it. you pout and turn around to face him, only to see him quirking an eyebrow.

"you find—" he gestures at the screen—"that guy hot? you've never squealed like that at our concerts."

you know you should probably tell felix how fucking handsome he is, and how he doesn't ever need to worry about there being any competition, because how could anyone compare to your sunshine?

but his words makes you want to squish him so tightly, because of course he pays attention to you of all people, even with thousands of stays as audience, and the thought of him smiling as you wave bbokari wildly makes you smile too.

"lixie, you know you're the prettiest man i've ever seen. now can you please appreciate young hiccup and let us continue watching?"

he harrumphs, but his mock-jealousy is endearing, and you hold his hand tightly before he presses 'resume'.

you'd like to think he was struck speechless when he saw astrid, because astrid was your favourite character after hiccup. she was stunning, absolutely slayer material, and most importantly, she was funny.

you didn't even realise that fifty minutes had passed, until lee know walked in.

"what're y'all up to?"

as felix explained the situation, you snuggled into the blanket and smiled childishly at minho. he only shook his head exasperatedly and said, "get well soon." before he left again.

the time passed between medicine and warm water, and before you knew it, your fever had subsided and you were halfway through the third 'how to train your dragon' movie.

"lix?"

"hm?"

"i'm so grateful for you sometimes," you croak out.

felix rubs your head absently and nods. "i'm grateful for you everyday." you choke on your water, never going to get used to how felix throws love around like he’s got an infinite amount of it.

it’s crazy, really, that love can be such a simple and never-ending stream, but you’ve always rationed your love and having someone like felix who’s so generous with it?

it changes you for the better.

unverträglichkeit

future thinking with seungmo

a/n: incompatibility in german is still a long word, and just the thought of being incompatible with you would definitely make seungmin's heart ache, even if he never says it aloud

you’re sitting at the kitchen island, your agenda open on your ipad as you organise your calendar. you open your chats in another tab, and split the screen, humming as you work.

you transfer each upcoming event to your calendar, adding notes to what you have to do in preparation, and unstarring the messages after you’re done. it’s systematic and satisfying, and there’s a rhythm to it that fits your working style so well.

seungmin busies himself around the kitchen, but you’re not really concerned as long as he doesn’t turn on the fire. you hear the fridge open a few times, but he can’t find what he’s looking for, so he just closes it and paces around in the kitchen some more.

“seungmo, my parents are having their 25th wedding anniversary this year. we’ll—i’ll—have to organise that, and we also have to coordinate what to wear and everything.”

“oh!” seungmin replies. “that’ll be us–“ he pauses, and reaches into his pocket, which is empty, and realises with a start that whatever he’s looking for isn’t there.

a stricken look crosses his face, and he goes to the room, patting himself down as he walks. even from behind, you can see that his pockets are both empty, and you watch him curiously as he disappears out of sight.

you can hear him rummaging in your room, and you hear the sound of papers being rustled and drawers opened. he seems to be getting frantic in his search, and you’re beginning to get concerned.

you can imagine his worried face as he messes around the things, and while the thought of his cute expression amuses you, him messing up your things that have been arranged according to your very particular system of organisation rubs you the wrong way.

as you rise from your chair in an attempt to get up and check on him, he yells at you to “stay right where you are!”

he must have had a sixth sense, because there was no way he could have seen you getting up from his peripheral vision when you could barely see him yourself.

the loud, clattering noises start to concern you even more. luckily, you know seungmin’s a bit particular about the way his things are laid out, so hopefully he won’t move anything around too much. before you can get up, he comes out of the room, dramatically hiding something in his hand.

you see a flash of something black and small and squarish and can’t help but to let out a little gasp as you realise what it is.

“about your parents’ 25th anniversary – that could be us in 26ish years. y/n, will you marry me?”

he falls to one knee, looking up at you lovingly. the ring in the open box stares back up at you unblinkingly, shimmering in the light. it’s a small jewel, but the ring has an intricate design, and you just know seungmin spent hours and went on several trips to find it.

you appreciate his eye for detail, but most of all you appreciate the thought that must have gone into not just finding the ring, but also how he must have constructed an entire scenario in his mind about the proposal.

you press your hands to your face, shocked. this entire situation has rendered you speechless, and you’re not quite sure what would be a correct reaction to this. nobody’s ever told you about their engagement stories before!

“yes,” you reply, voice cracking, and seungmin immediately gets up and envelopes you into a hug as you burst into tears.

you’re ugly crying and seungmin has never been good at handling these sorts of things, so he just awkwardly pats your back and holds you close to his chest. which, oddly enough, does help.

“i love you so much,” you say. “seungmin, i can’t believe you - when did you get the ring? and have you seriously been waiting for the right chance to make a joke, or did you just spontaneously decide to do that?”

he shrugs. “i dunno, the timing felt right. i bet you could tell it wasn’t planned because i didn’t have the ring on my person, but i really couldn’t have created a better opportunity.”

you laugh through your tears, wiping them away. “you’re unbelievable. it’s crazy – i used to think we were incompatible, but now i know that would never be true.”

fernweh

post concert blues with innie

a/n: the literal meaning of this word is ‘distance ache’, and it refers to the opposite feeling of homesickness, a yearning to travel the world and visit places you’ve never been

as soon as jeongin steps off the stage, you can see sweat dripping from his brows. his lips are cracked and his adam’s apple bobs painfully as he swallows, with difficulty.

the fact that his makeup isn’t smudged is a testament to the makeup artist’s skills and the strength of the waterproof spray he’s using. his clothes are sopping wet, and he waves at the camera waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs.

once he’s quite sure he’s out of hearing and seeing range, he peels the mike off his body and carefully removes the top half of his costume.

you instinctively get up to block his body from view, but he lets you know that it’s fine, and you watch him skilfully manoeuvre his head from the tangled mess of ribbons and fabric, before slipping a much more comfortable t-shirt over his head.

“i miss the roar of the fans’ cheers already,” he muses as he pulls on a pair of jeans.

you let your eyes linger longer than they should, before you nod in agreement.

you’re not a performer yourself, and you have never been, but the thrill of being on stage and in the spotlight must be comparable to the rush of skydiving and the danger of knowing that one wrong move could ruin you forever.

being so absorbed in performing that the audience becomes a blur, but yet being acutely aware of the crowd’s presence and the noise they’re making, and how everything is for you as someone on stage.

it’s an entirely different persona and so difficult to describe; one would only truly understand if one had experienced it themself.

jeongin wipes his sweat and chugs an entire bottle of water. it’s crazy how thirsty dancing makes him, it’s almost as if he’s thirstier than the fans in the standing pits when chan lifts his shirt.

jeongin sits down next to you, and you tilt your phone screen away so he doesn’t have to watch himself perform again. you’re monitoring his singing and his dancing, as you always do, but he doesn’t need the additional mental pressure at the moment.

he’s grateful for it, and changes the topic, purposefully stretching and yawning so you have time to turn your phone off and put it away.

“i can’t wait to go to LA. it’s going to be so fun! i heard the fans there are crazily loud.”

you nod. “but i think stays are insanely good at making you feel proud of yourselves no matter where they’re from.”

jeongin has always wanted to travel the world, and you would love to indulge him if he had the time. it’s a feeling you’re familiar with, of wanting to explore the hidden depths of culture and nature and connect deeply with people from different places.

that’s why you love learning new languages, actually. because you can’t properly comprehend some words in english, neither can you express english properly in another language, like korean.

each language has its own connotations and culture in itself, and by learning new languages, you uncover new veins of information which you can then greedily mine.

“i want to travel the whole world,” jeongin says. “meet all the stays. meet new people. see new things!”

“it’s a sort of wanderlust, isn’t it? just wanting to hike around and see things that nature has created for you to see.”

jeongin laughs. “of course you would use a different language to try and explain it.”

you blush, but he goes on to say, “but it’s hot. tell me more about it. i want to hear about your wanderlust and your cā jiān ér guò and your carissima, love. i’d listen to you talk all day.”

he just knows how to make your heart pound, and with blood rushing in your veins so loudly you can barely hear yourself speak, you explain, “i think it’s fernweh. the opposite of homesickness, and rather a longing to go everywhere all around the world.”

you look at him for a moment and give a start. “you know what, innie? you’re the embodiment of ‘stray kids everywhere all around the world’.”

#stray kids #kpop fics #chan #felix #in #han #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #seungmin #🪁 — my works #🧸 — german words with skz

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thebarefootcajun · 1 year

Text

Marceau Michel, Marcy

He strolled along the bayou kicking an old can of carnation pet milk. A young adult orphan losing his Dad to tuberculosis and just recently his Mom to lung cancer. It was a bloody death for both parents when in the end it appeared that they were spitting out liquid body parts red as blood. He was the only child, barely a young adult at 19. He inherited what his parents had, an old one room lean to shack. Solid as all get up! Made from cedar, it had withstood all major hurricanes without damage or leakage, and during storms the house didn’t budge.

Lest I forget the young adult is Marceau Michel. He goes by the name Marcy. He and his mom were best friends. Her death left him devastated and strolling the bayou prairie lands like a zombie. Marcy had no idea how to continue with life. Pretty much he stayed tethered to his surroundings like he thought maybe his mom would rise from the dead. Marcy had heard stories of a man named Jesus that arose and maybe his mom would, too.

His family had made a living on the land, one acre including the land. Vegetables are what they grew. The only meat they ate was what they hunted on the Cajun Prairie, mostly they ate catfish fished right on the Bayou Tonnerre, thunder, behind their house. There was a storage built up off the ground for root vegetables, onions and garlic, not much more than an enclosed shed. In the event of a more severe winter, the veggies in the shed would sustain Marcy and his mom through the winter, now it would just be Marcy.

Marcy wasn’t sure how to live apart from his mom. It was all he knew. Even in her illness she was what gave Marcy a purpose in life. This day on Bayou Tonnerre, Marcy considered jumping into the middle part of the bayou where the water was deepest and tying large stones around his ankles to sink him to the depths of the bottom of the Tonnerre, but as he was tying up the stones with twine, he had this thought, “Suppose Mom is like Jesus and comes back alive, I’ll miss her. That would be a fate worse than death!”

After that thought, dream, however we want to name it; most were convinced it was divine intervention. God had a plan for Marcy to honor his mom through caring for others as he had cared for him mom.

That night as Marcy lie under the open skies in a marigold garden that he had cultivated.

Marigolds are like bug repellent, and during the day of the 1930’s bug repellent wasn’t widely sold or used. People came up with their own remedies to

fight off mosquitoes. Marcy slept right smack dab in the middle of that orange and yellow garden full of the most beautiful marigold flowers, mosquito free. I can just picture him now, purring gently, under the open skies, no bother from pesky mosquitoes.

During the night after he had that vision from the Lord Marcy had another vision in the form of a dream. Marcy was to be a community helper in supplying what he didn’t need to the elderly, the sick and the homeless. Marcy awoke the next morning feeling a bit lighter and less burdened by his loneliness. He knew exactly what to do.

He set out to assess his garden. Remember that earlier in the story we said he had about an acre including the old lean to shack that was his home. He knew that he could do better with his gardening now that so much of his time didn’t go into the care of his mom. Next he went to the raised cellar for his root vegetables, onions and garlic. Marcy assessed his seeds and roots to decide what he might be able to use.

Refocusing his loss and pain in helping others made a world of difference in this young man’s life. He saw others in need. Marcy knew that helping others was honoring his mom and that made his mission even more special. Very quickly his mission grew, others wanted a part of his glory in sharing with those in need. Caring for others doesn’t fill a void, but that void has time to heal itself while pouring energy into caring, loving projects such as feeding the hungry.

Marcy knew that his mom’s spirit worked right alongside. He understood that she probably wouldn’t rise from the grave, but he understood she was alive in Jesus, the man he’d heard about who had risen from the grave. His mom was alive in spirit, and he’d see her again one day with Jesus.

Why not pour your sorrow and pain in self-service to others. Slowly by giving of yourselves that pain is washed away and you see it through a different lens.

John 15:12, This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.

#pain of loss #Jesus #refocused pain of loss #story about caring #caring through social services

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damiano-mylove · 3 years

Text

Members of Måneskin with a mentally ill/disordered S/O

Illnesses included: Depression, ADD, Tourette's and PTSD (so warnings for that and SH, drug usage, isolation, and heavy topics in general) *Masterlist*

This was a collaborative effort between Nik, Lina, Lute and two unnamed but very appreciated people - all of us afflicted with the varying illnesses above

Vic

Vic would take an empathetic approach to your illness/disorder (relating to you, researching, never pitying)

Depression

Vic would take a more of a nurturing role to your sadness

On the more sad days, Vic would nap with you for a little bit but she'd get to a point where enough would be enough

She would coax you out of bed in ways that appeal to you more than you'd ever care to admit, starting out with just getting you to eat somewhere else than in bed, then eventually moving up to showering, etcetera, etcetera

Vic would be very acutely tuned toward your needs, and she always fulfilled

It broke her heart that you were so sad, but she could relate and that made it a lighter burden on your back

When you first told her, Vic just went silent, then hugged you for a long time

ADD

Vic wouldn't be as supportive in this, but not in a neglectful way

She had a way of getting your attention back on the topic at hand, but sometimes she was just as bad as you for getting away from the main point

The impulsivity, she wasn't the biggest fan of, but you two worked through it like adults

When you'd forget things, Vic wouldn't get annoyed - but she would always remind you when you forgot what you needed to remember

Also, she was the best for finding misplaced things

PTSD

Vic would be very careful to avoid your triggers, however she never felt as if she was walking on eggshells

Before you were able to fully tell her what happened, Vic would never force you to tell her anything you weren't already ready to tell her of your own accord

There was no way she couldn't feel a bit sorry for you, but she never showed it, and she certainly didn't pity you - she just was sorry that something happened to you to give you PTSD

She would be mindful to never act as if she would be able to fix you

Tourette's

It didn't annoy her as much as you thought it surely would - especially since you had been trying to keep the tics at bay in the beginning of your relationship

Vic usually went on like nothing happened when you'd tic, but sometimes she'd laugh if your tics would hit her

Vic would proudly go out with you, even though you were scared about the looks you'd get on the street, but she never minded because she loved you and she wanted to show you that she loved you

Thomas

Thomas would take a supportive approach to your illness/disorder (reminding you to take your meds, making appointments for you if you'd ask, doing anything he could to make you feel better)

Depression

Thomas would always be the perfect person who would just shut the fuck up and cuddle you, but he would only do it if you'd ask because he knew sometimes you didn't feel like being around people

Wasn't really trained in any of this so he just cared for you like he'd like to be cared for

He was doing his best, and it was apparent, but sometimes you'd have to tell him what not to do and what to do

Of course, Thomas wouldn't bat an eye to stop or start doing anything at the raise of your finger - whether it be rub your back or let you be alone for a bit

He understood that he alone could not cure your depression, but he understood that he would be around for the ride, if you would have him

When you first told Thomas, he was silent, just nodding. He asked you a few very respectful questions but would never dream of pushing you. He would rub your knee and assure you of his love for you, no matter what

ADD

Honestly, Thomas didn't know what ADD was, at first

He googled it, then thought better to just ask you for a primary source

During nights where you couldn't sleep, Thomas would be right beside you, not sleeping either, which wasn't healthy for either of you, but it sure as Hell made you feel less lonely

Thomas lost shit and things all the time, so he never judged you for that, and his memory was potentially worse than yours so who was he to speak on that

But he was extremely good at getting you to finish tasks before moving on (sometimes just finishing them himself)

PTSD

Again, didn't exactly know what it entailed at first, but asked you a few questions to clear the air

Thomas would lead you through deep breathing exercises (unless you told him not to) when you were triggered and started losing control

Would always do anything and everything he could to avoid triggers with you

He would he more than patient with you

Tourette's

He would find some of your tics endearing (not harmful ones)

At one point, you'd even developed a verbal tic saying Thomas' name, which he always chuckled at and responded to you every single time as if you'd requested his presence, each time with a new pet name and a smile

If your tics would hit him by accident, you would apologize profusely, but Thomas would always laugh and brush it off

During tic attacks, he knew to just let you be, unless you would stop breathing, then he would certainly step in

He would ask his doctor a "hypothetical" about how to help someone through a tic attack, then used that advice forevermore, and it usually made a helpful difference

Ethan

Ethan would take a companion role (letting you take the lead, showing him what would happen and what to do to help, always listening to you before making his own move)

Depression

He'd dealt with depression before, but thoroughly understood that everyone is different in how they display mental illness

Ethan would recognize what to do, but would ask you for confirmation before acting upon anything that had potential to make a difference

On days where you couldn't leave your bed, he would bring you food (not a steak dinner, but he would definitely bring you soup or toast or a sandwich)

On days where you couldn't shower, he'd either be in the shower with you, or he'd draw you a bath instead, or he'd buy dry shampoo and sanitary wipes (those would be the last case, because he didn't want to throw off your pH)

He would assure you of his love and that you didn't burden him whatsoever

You were suffering, and you didn't make him suffer, but he did take some of that suffering from you

ADD

Certain times, I regret to say, he may get slightly annoyed, but not for long and not to the point of icing you out or anything

Ethan always found things to keep your mind occupied (watching Monty Python (actually a great programme for AD(H)D people), intricate games, new books, etc)

The best at finding lost things, and also has the best memory under the sun

Your symptoms wouldn't bother Ethan, save for constantly speaking (which can get a little annoying during a film or something)

PTSD

Would basically just go one with life - he would avoid all things relating to your triggers and PTSD - but otherwise, it would be business as per usual

If you got triggered, he would be by your side and on your side

He would do anything; deep breathing, distractions, grounding, getting your meds, anything

Ethan would always let you speak about it, when you'd want to, but otherwise treated you the exact same way as he had before you told him

Tourette's

He's always looking for something to joke about, and sometimes your tics provide just the material

He wouldn't dream of taking the piss out of the harmful or mean tics, but if you were laughing, then he was sure to be laughing as well

If your tics involved a bird whistle, he'd call you his 'little red bird' but wouldn't anymore if that upset you

Tourette's are a tough subject to joke about, but Ethan would always listen if you told him it was offensive, unfunny, or just a bad joke and Ethan would always take it in good humour and apologize

Most of the time though, he could make some funny fucking comments

Damiano

Damiano would take a nonchalant approach (not explicitly talking about it, never take the spotlight off you (if he could help it), try his best to help you through any challenges without making you feel like you were an inconvenience to him

Depression

He was your best friend before he was your lover

As such, you were always able to talk to Damiano about your depression anytime you felt it getting bad, as to warn him

Damiano would never leave your side, unless you told him to, but he'd always have a film on in the back, or he'd play with your hair, or distract you by brushing your hair or having you help him pick out an outfit

He enjoyed cleaning, so your bedroom would never become a depression room, and that helped get you out of your slumps most of the time

Dami was also swimmingly good at getting you up, even if it be just for a dance in the moonlight then back to bed, or a walk around the block then on the couch

He understood wanting to cope, but if you were prone to drug usage, Damiano would totally discourage it and stop you from using as best he could

ADD

Not everyday is a trip to Disney, but with Damiano, it is

Damiano always had new records to catch your fancy, he'd always have some home project lined up for the two of you, he'd always let you do extravagant things with makeup on his face

It seemed if you lost something, Dami would find it, but if Damiano lost something, you would find it (good system actually)

Would always have reminders in his phone so he would add reminders for you on his phone (appointments, birthdays, events)

Damiano seemed to always have just the trick to get you to sleep, even when you felt like you physically couldn't

PTSD

After you told him, Damiano would immediately avoid the topic in future conversations

He would support you fully during any trigger or episode, but he never treated you any differently at all just because you have PTSD

It hurt him that something hurt you so badly, but he took it all in a deep breath - after all, he signed up for you, all of you, so he certainly wouldn't give up on you just because of a disorder

Damiano would be in your corner 100%, and you knew it and you knew you could always go to him

Tourette's

Some tics would get that beautiful smile on his face, but otherwise he continued conversations like nothing ever happened

He didn't bat an eye at a physical tic, not a verbal tic

But he was the man to go to during a tic attack

He wouldn't treat you like a science experiment, or like an insane asylum patient - he treated you with love and support, like no one else ever had

Damiano had read about a dozen books on how to support people with Tourette's, and he'd also talked to other people he knew who had Tourette's - Damiano was thoroughly educated on how to help you, the love of his life

headass this was hard to fuckin write and i know its shitty and the cw’s are a bunch and i cut it but im sorry and hope its good enough

#maneskin #måneskin #victoria de angelis #victoria maneskin #victoria de angelis x reader #thomas raggi #thomas raggi x reader #thomas maneskin #ethan torchio #ethan torchio x reader #ethan maneskin #damiano #damiano david #damiano maneskin #damiano david x reader #fanfic #damiano david fanfiction

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somewhatgreatexpectations · 4 years

Text

Just My Imagination (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello! We’ve entered the 70s and part 3! The songs used in this chapter are “Just My Imagination (Running Away With Me)” by The Temptations (1971) and “Lovin’ You” By Minnie Riperton (1975).

Summary: Y/n and Wanda experience life (and pregnancy) in the 70s as Wanda tries to keep everything under control.

Hope you enjoy! :)

“Alright, krasivaya, what decade are we living in today?” Wanda asked in an overly upbeat tone as she took a space beside you on the bed. She hoped that the tradition would be enough to lift your spirts.

You turned to face her with devastated eyes and it took everything within Wanda to not burst into tears at the sight. That wasn’t what you needed right now.

“They don’t want me here, Wanda.” You mumbled dejectedly, brushing over her attempt at making you feel better. Seeing you so downtrodden was such a stark contrast to your usually carefree nature. It was heartbreaking for Wanda to see.

Scooting closer, Wanda wrapped a comforting arm around you. You immediately turned to bury your head in her shoulder, desperately seeking comfort in her arms. “Moya lyubov, that’s not true. You know how Stark is.” She rubbed your arm soothingly. “If it makes you feel better, I may have thrown him through the wall when you left.” A weak chuckle shook your body at her admission.

The smile that formed on Wanda’s lips was instantaneous when the sound she adored filled the quiet room.

The moment didn’t last long though. “He said I was dangerous.” You faintly whispered, hurt lacing your words.

Wanda sighed. “Y/n. Look at me.” You pulled your head up to meet her loving gaze. “You and I both know that’s far from the truth. Your emotions got the best of you once. That’s all.”

You shamefully ducked your head. “I just-… I could have hurt someone. I couldn’t help but think of her when we were there. That’s why I lost control and the building collapsed.” It took Wanda a moment, but she finally understood what this was about. “It was like I was back there, not able to protect her…” you couldn’t find it in yourself to continue as tears welled in your eyes.

Immediately her hold on you tightened as she pressed her lips firmly against your hairline. “Shh… I have you. It’s okay. Let it out.” Wanda whispered as she felt your tears flow steadily against her neck.

You bunched your hands into the front of her sweater as you tried to take deep breathes. “I miss her, Wanda… So much. Anna didn’t deserve what happened. It should have been me-”

If anyone understood your pain it was Wanda, but she couldn’t allow your thoughts to spiral like that. She knew all too well what could come from that.

“Stop.” She interrupted firmly. “The world needs you here. My world needs you here. You did everything you could for her. You loved her so much, Y/n. Don’t carry that burden of blame when it was all Hydra.”

Her eyes offered you comfort and the depths contained nothing but love that enveloped your entire being. You felt lighter. “Thank you.” You finally murmured. “For being here, for knowing what I need. For being you... Every time I think I couldn’t be more in love...” You thought out loud to yourself with a faint smile.

Wanda’s breath hitched as her eyes filled with even more emotion. “There’s no need to thank me. You do the same for me. Constantly. I’ll always be here. I won’t let go of you.” She repeated the words you once told her back at you. Your heart thrummed. “I love you. Endlessly.”

“I love you, too.” You mumbled against her lips, losing yourself in the feeling for a moment before you pulled away.

Wanda dazedly shook her head, regaining her focus. “So?” She placed another tender kiss to your temple as her smile became playful. “What decade are we using to escape from this one?” She questioned again, once again offering you the fictitious escape of reality that you’d both grown to find comfort in.

You shook your head but gave in either way. “The 70s.” you eventually replied with a small smile, settling on your favorite.

You covered your face in mock mortification when Wanda immediately threw up a peace sign with her free hand. “Far out.” She retorted coolly. The outdated saying fell easily from her lips as she settled into her character. You shook your head again. “I’ll get the shows ready, you get the music?”

The smile that grew on your face from her antics was inevitable. “Sounds… groovy, babe.” You responded, playing along. Despite the exasperation that you feigned, you appreciated everything she was doing.

“Oh, god…” You groaned as you watched Wanda disco out of the room to go gather what you two would need.

You were so unfathomably in love with this woman.

For a moment you wished that the world was able to see this side of Wanda, the side that was reserved for you and you alone. The playful side. The side that showed that she was more than just tragedy.

Wanda knew that playing make-believe wouldn’t fix your problems or heal your pain, but it would be enough to ease your mind even if it was just temporary. If this tradition was something that could bring the light back into your eyes, she was more than willing to provide it.

She knows that you’ve done the same for her numerous times before and would do so for as long as she needed it.

When she wandered back in the room she held up two different options. “Okay, I couldn’t decide between-”

“You pick.” You interrupted her. She quirked an eyebrow.

With a shrug, she tossed the items on the bed and took both of your hands, pulling you up from your seated position. “We’ll get to that later then. Where’s the 70s music?”

Taking one of your hands back, you queued the playlist that had the music you were searching for. “There.” You said with a half-hearted smirk, still feeling a little down. Wanda immediately noticed.

The song that filled the room was upbeat and bouncy as Wanda began pulling your hands back and forth to the rhythm of the music. The amused twinkle in her eye not going unnoticed. When she noticed you began moving on your own, Wanda began dancing in an exaggerated 70s fashion, singing along to the lyrics of the song. With a laugh, you easily joined her, feeling the weight lift from your shoulders ever so slightly.

For the remainder of the song you both danced around the room using your best 70s moves as you continued to loudly belt out the lyrics. When the song ended, you both fell to the floor, out of breath and smiling contentedly.

Leaning against each other both literally and metaphorically.

Moments of escape from the heavy lives you lead were few and far between so when they came around they were special. These moments with Wanda… they were special. They were escapes that had transitioned into traditions. Traditions that were forged with great care in the flames of your love.

Without warning, Wanda leaned over and cupped your cheek. She wasted no time before passionately connecting your lips. There was no hesitation as you returned her embrace. The music around you transitioned into something much softer as you both got lost in one another.

“Soon we'll be married and raise a family, a cozy little home out in the country with two children, maybe three. I tell you I can visualize it all, this couldn't be a dream for too real it all seems, but it was just my imagination runnin' way with me…”

The words that drifted from the radio caught your attention, easily pulling your focus from the task at hand. Flashes of moments you didn’t recognize flooded your mind. Despite the upbeat tempo of the song, the lyrics seemed sad… hopeless even. The emotion that the song radiated seemed to fill your body.

An odd sense of longing blossomed in your chest as the song played on. The abrupt sound of someone speaking and a gentle squeeze of your wife’s hand in yours grounded you as you focused on the moment happening before you.

The feeling of longing and hopelessness that filled you faded away and was replaced with excitement as Dr. Nielson began speaking.

Wanda pretended not to notice the way you jumped slightly.

“Definitely pregnant!” The doctor confirmed cheerfully with a broad smile as he pulled the stethoscope from his ears.

A short laugh fell from Wanda’s lips as you shook your head at the doctor’s obvious statement. “Well, that much we figured.” Wanda retorted flatly.

You shifted to face the man fully. Squeezing Wanda’s hand in your own once more. “It’s just taken us a bit by surprise. It was kind of suddenly... Quite suddenly, wasn’t it? Practically overnight.”

A sharp grip on your knee stopped your words as your eyes fell to Wanda, who subtly shook her head. “What my wife means is, we’re just tickled pink… or blue!” Wanda quickly supplied as she stood up from the couch.

The doctor merely nodded, dismissing the comments as he stood up as well. “You’re at about 4 months now, is that right?” He questioned which you immediately shook your head at until you saw Wanda nodding enthusiastically and looking at you pointedly.

You began nodding slowly with an unsure smile. “That sounds about right.” You responded hesitantly. The words practically a question.

“It’s easiest for ladies such as yourself to keep tabs on growing babies with fruit. It makes it simple.” You bristled slightly at the sexist remark as the doctor continued listing the size of the baby in comparison to various fruits.

Disregarding his words, you interrupted him. “How big would the baby be at say… Twelve hours?” You attempted to ask nonchalantly.

“Twelve hours?” Dr. Nielson eyed you skeptically.

Wanda rushed over to the man and began pulling him in the direction of the door. “I think this line of questioning is fruitless!” She joked with a nervous chuckle as the disembodied voices laughed along.

Not being deterred, you followed after them. “Hypothetically speaking, should we be concerned? Or concerned that even though we may have engaged in… “ You coughed awkwardly. “Activities that typically produce children, we both lack the necessary, erm-… equipment for impregnating. Hypothetically speaking of course.”

Wanda choked at your words. “Sweetheart.” She sputtered abruptly, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

The man lightly tapped your shoulder and ignored your words. “Hypothetically speaking, every new parent gets nervous.”

As you opened your mouth to reply, Wanda quickly cut you off. “Y/n. Why don’t you see the doctor out?”

You shrugged, deciding the doctor was no help anyway. “Good idea.” You made your way over to the doctor as you began leading him out.

Before exiting, you glanced back to see Wanda looking down at her stomach with a soft smile. Your heart swelled at the sight. Any questions you may have had vanished if it meant she would keep smiling like that.

When you reached the front yard, Dr. Nielson turned towards you. “You actually caught me just in time. I’m taking the wife on vacation this afternoon.”

“Oh, have a nice holiday. Hey, Herb!” You called out politely as you waved to the neighbor. He greeted you back as he continued to trim his hedges. “Listen, doctor, do you mind keeping the news of Wanda’s… you know, just between us? Everything is happening so quickly, I think we’d like it just between us for now.”

The man mimed zipping his lips. “Mums the word.” He replied easily. “I’m off. Bermuda baby!” He cheered as he walked off.

Just as you were about to turn back inside a sharp screeching sound caught your attention. You turned rapidly, only to see Herb’s hedge trimmer cutting into the brick of the wall. “Hey, Herb,” you called out hesitantly. “I think you may have taken the hedge trimming a little too far, pal.”

Herb looked up at you with an unnerving smile as he continued cutting into the brick. “So, I have. Thanks, buddy.”

“Yeah… don’t mention it.” You mumbled uncertainly. You turned and rushed into the house, eager to get away from the odd behavior. “Darling, the strangest thing just happened outside with Herb…”

Wanda turned to face you. The sight of her stomach appearing even further along in the pregnancy than it was just moments before shocking you. “Woah! Have you gotten bigger?” you shouted with wide eyes.

The woman in question merely shrugged. “Have I? I can’t tell from this angle.”

You wandered over and placed a hand softly over her stomach. “It’s either that or I need glasses.” The disembodied voices laughed. “With how fast you’re developing I think it might be in our best interest to prepare the nursery now.”

“That’s a great idea!” Wanda exclaimed excitedly. “I’ll help you as soon as I satisfy this craving.”

With a chuckle and a nod, you began moving the boxes into the room that would eventually become the nursery. After you had built the rocking chair, a book about pregnancy caught your eye. Taking a seat on the rocking chair, you began reading in hopes of preparing yourself for the pregnancy with all the necessary knowledge. You were deeply engrossed in the book when you noticed objects begin floating around the room.

“Nesting. The overwhelming urge during pregnancy to clean, organize and prepare the home for the new baby.” You read out loud curiously as you took notice of Wanda using her powers to set up the room.

Wanda waved her hand towards a box and a mobile began floating over to hang just above the crib. “See? You’re an expert already. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” Wanda replied distractedly through bites of the fruit she was eating.

Absently you flipped through the book. “Well, nothing to worry about besides morning sickness, mood swings, aching back and fe-feet.” you stuttered out as you glanced over at your pregnant wife who was, in fact, on her feet. You closed the book and put it to the side as you stood up. “Darling, you should probably sit down.”

With a dismissive wave of her hand, Wanda continued moving objects around the room. “Don’t be silly. All I feel is excitement, happiness, and oh!” she exclaimed as she glanced down at her stomach.

“Kicking? Already?” You asked disbelievingly as you placed your hand lightly over her stomach. “Wow…” you breathed out when you felt a gentle nudge against your fingertips.

Wanda smiled brightly, her eyes twinkling with joy. “It’s such a strange sensation. It’s kind of fluttery.” She explained with a cute scrunch of her nose.

As soon as the word fluttery left her lips the plastic butterflies that were previously hanging on the mobile became animated and fluttered over to you. “Oh, did I do that? I didn’t mean to.” She said in surprise as a butterfly landed on your nose.

She turned to you and placed her finger out for the butterfly to crawl onto, her beautiful smile growing even more. You beamed brightly back at the sight of her as she let them out the bedroom window. You opened your book up again.

“If that was the first kick that puts you at about… six months.” Your eyes widened as you flipped through the book. “Six months? That was so… fast! I can’t keep up!” You exclaimed.

Realizing how that may sound, you hurriedly kneeled down in front of Wanda and nuzzled your nose into her stomach. “Please don’t misinterpret, I can’t wait to meet you little Charlie!” You pressed a light kiss to her stomach before standing again.

“Charlie?” Wanda questioned curiously. “I was thinking Billy, just a nice, classic, all-American name.”

You tilted your head in mock thought. “Charming. But then there’s Charlie… named after the great Charles Dickens. “Life is made of so many partings welded together”” You recited to her with an excited smile.

Despite herself, Wanda couldn’t help but smirk in amusement. “Nerd. I guess there’s only one solution for this debate… hope for a girl.”

As you watched Wanda begin painting a stork on the wall with her powers, you began thinking. “I figure we should probably decide on a name soon though. Based on your rapid progression paired with the time elapsed…” You trailed off in thought.

Absentmindedly you spun the wedding ring on your finger as you attempted to figure out the timeline of the pregnancy.

After a few moments of silence, Wanda snapped her fingers in front of your face. “He’s going to be here before you figure it out.” She teased lightly.

“Well, I’m not a robot, dear.” You quipped back distractedly as you attempted to correlate the growth with the timeframe.

“And thank goodness for that.” Wanda countered easily, thoroughly enjoying watching you attempt to figure out the timeline.

Suddenly, you focused your attention back to her. “If I’m thinking this through properly and don’t hold me to this… But… I believe it’s due Friday afternoon.”

Wanda’s eyes widened at the information. “In three days?” She choked out. “Maybe I should sit down.”

“I need to practice!” You shouted unexpectedly as the information settled with you as well. Quickly, you grabbed a toy doll out of one of the boxes, a couple loose diapers and ran out of the room. Wanda shook her head at your antics but followed you out nonetheless.

After several practice rounds, you picked up the baby and stared it down seriously. The sound of laughter floated around you. “I think we have an understanding.” You told the inanimate object determinedly. “Start the clock!” You called to Wanda who immediately began the timer.

Fumbling only slightly, you were able to get the diaper on the baby with ease. “Time!” You shouted triumphantly.

“Your personal best.” Wanda called from the kitchen with a smile.

You pumped your fist in the air in celebration. “Yes! We are nothing if not prepared!”

“Oh!” Wanda breathed out, her face scrunched in discomfort.

At the sound, your head snapped over to Wanda. “Darling?” you questioned in concern.

Once again, Wanda scrunched her face. “Did the book talk about this? It’s not a painful, but a strange…”

Vaguely you recalled reading about the feeling she was describing. You quickly began flipping through the book. Stopping shortly after when you found the information you were searching for. “Tightening sensation?” you offered helpfully.

Wanda nodded, still cringing ever so slightly. “Yup. That’s it.”

You quickly skimmed over the page. “Braxton Hick’s contractions.” You informed her as you read on. “Also known as false labor. Usually begins in the third trimester. Named after John Braxton Hicks in 1875-”

“Honey.” Wanda interrupted, gesturing for you to get to the point.

“Right!” You skimmed further. “This could give us a chance to work on our breathing exercises.” You suggested as you made your way over to her and rubbed her back in soothing circles.

Wanda nodded in agreement as you demonstrated the recommended breathing technique, which she replicated. “Yeah, it’s not working. I can still feel it.” She said with a frown.

You pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Before you could get another word out, Wanda let out a short yell as everything in the kitchen went into a fritz.

“Let’s abandon the kitchen!” you shouted as you protectively took Wanda by the hand and led her out. Wanda’s screams remained steady from the discomfort the entire way, much to your eardrums displeasure.

A sudden, bright flash of light startled you as you both naturally fell into a defensive stance. Standing back-to-back, you both lifted your hands in preparation to fight if necessary.

Almost as soon as you were in position, the house returned to normal. “It stopped.” Wanda said apprehensively as her hands remained in their defensive position.

“I’ll go check outside.” You said and rushed out the door, returning shortly after with the information. “It looks like the whole block is out.”

Wanda wandered over to the couch and took a precarious seat. “And that was just a fake contraction. Who knows what will happen when the real thing starts.” Her brows creased together in worry. “Do you think they know it’s my fault?”

You began making your way over to your wife. “Our neighbors?”

“Well, yes. With all the close calls we’ve been having it seems the people of Westview are always on the verge of discovering our secret.” She admitted worriedly.

Thoughtfully you ponded her question and all the odd occurrences that had happened around you since you arrived in Westview. “I know what you mean.” You began somberly as you took a seat next to Wanda. “But it’s more than that, isn’t it? Mr. Hart and Ellie, dinner, my dream, outside with Herb…”

Wanda’s eyes glimmered with concern as she watched you anxiously.

“I think something is wrong here, Wanda.” You finished softly. She searched your eyes as the pain in her eyes became more prominent...

“Do you think they know it’s my fault?”

You began making your way over to your wife and took a seat next to her. You gently took her hand in yours. “Yes, I know what you mean. The truth is we are in uncharted waters and you know what? I’m anxious too.” You admitted to her reassuringly. The voices cooed.

A soft smile formed on Wanda’s lips as she stared at you adoringly. “We just don’t know what to expect.” You nodded your head slightly in agreement as Wanda continued. “Will the baby have powers? Will it be my powers? Or your powers? A bit of both? No powers?”

The twinkle in her eyes caused your stomach to flip. “If he’s anything like his mother, Charlie will be perfect.”

Wanda smirked. “You mean Billy.” You were about to respond when Wanda gasped loudly, startling you out of your seat.

“Darling, are you alright?” you questioned fearfully as you scrambled back to your feet.

Wanda braced herself slightly. “This is a real one.” She gritted out.

“What?” you shouted as you began floating away from the ground.

Wanda glared at you from her position on the couch. “I thought you said Friday!”

“I told you I wasn’t a robot!” you defended anxiously as you continued floating higher, losing your ability to control the action.

Through the chaos in your mind you could hear Wanda begin her breathing exercises as she gestured for you to follow along. You nervously began following along, drifting back down to the floor a few seconds later. Wanda stood up and made her way over to you, soothingly taking your hand in hers. For a moment you both stood in place as you matched one another’s breathing. Slowly but surely regaining your composure.

“Better?” Wanda questioned teasingly after a moment.

You took another deep breath. “Yes, darling, thank you.” You replied sheepishly.

Not even a moment later, water began falling steadily over the entirety of the house, drenching you both in a seemingly never-ending downpour.

“Y/n?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I think my water just broke.”

“Yes, dear…”

In a bid to seek shelter you ushered Wanda to the dining room table as you crawled under after her. Your nerves were on high alert as even the downpour couldn’t pull your worries away from the fact that your wife was going into labor. Your eyes remained anxiously transfixed on the woman next to you who was pouting in displeasure at the water ruining the room. Much to your relief, the downpour finally slowed and then stopped altogether.

You quickly crawled out from under the space. “Let me help you up, dear.” You quickly offered Wanda, not wanting her to strain herself in anyway. As you gently helped her to her feet, her eyes seemed most focused on the room around you.

A small frown tugged at the corner of her lips as she surveyed the room. “What a mess!” Before you could react, she waved her hands and a powerful gust of wind blew in through the door, nearly knocking you off your feet. “That’s better.”

Her contentment was short lived as another groan of discomfort fell from her lips. “Darling, do you think it’s time to-”

“Call the doctor? Yes, I do, dear.” You responded quickly without letting her finish as you sprinted over to the phone only to hear the dial tone fill your ears. “Damn! The phones are down. I better run. Let’s hope he didn’t already leave for vacation.”

Wanda gasp as she rubbed her stomach anxiously. “At a time like this?” she cried.

Attempting to sooth her, you brushed a hand along her cheek lightly. A nervous smile on your lips. “Well, in all fairness darling, the baby is about nine months early. I’ll be back as fast as I can. Will you be alright here?”

A hesitant nod was Wanda’s only response. You pressed a short kiss to her lips and frantically raced out the door.

As Wanda attempted to calm herself through her breathing exercise, the sound of rustling in the nursery caught her attention. Just as she began making her way towards the sound, the doorbell sounded, causing her to jump.

“Oh shoot!” She exclaimed, knowing that company meant she would have to explain her unexplainable pregnancy. Thinking quickly, she waved a hand and a coat floated out of the closest and covered her.

“Wanda! What’s up?” Geraldine began as soon as Wanda opened the door. Her brows furrowed when she noticed the coat the other woman was wearing. “It’s 75 degrees out, you making a fashion statement?” She questioned lightly as she walked into the home.

A forced smile formed on Wanda’s face as she attempted to speak through the contractions as they came and went. “Hi Geraldine, you know, now isn’t really a good time.” She informed the other woman politely.

Geraldine turned to face Wanda. “No, no, no, it’s foxy. You’ll have to let me borrow it sometime.” She replied, misinterpreting the meaning of Wanda’s words. “But first, I have to borrow a bucket. Not to wear, to use. Somehow all the pipes in my ceiling burst at once and I have to bail myself out.”

“Alright, sure! Just stay right there, I think I may have a bucket in the kitchen!” Wanda shouted when she noticed Geraldine turn. She quickly ran passed Geraldine and into the kitchen, keeping her coat wrapped tightly around her abdominal area. “I think it’s just here under the s-sINK!” She cried as another painful contraction overcame her.

“Are you alright in there?” Geraldine called out in concern.

Another contraction came as Wanda attempted to control her tone through this one. “Y-yes, I’m just looking-ow!” She stuttered out as her coat magically transformed into a fur coat. Despite the situation she couldn’t help but admire the quality.

“I’ll come help.” Geraldine announced as Wanda quickly took off the coat and threw it to the side.

“No! I mean, no thank you!” she quickly corrected herself.

Her words fell on deaf ears as Geraldine wandered over to the closet in the kitchen, her back to Wanda. “Found it!” As she turned, Wanda grabbed a bowl of fruit to hide her stomach now that the coat wasn’t an option. “Would you look at that?” Wanda tensed. “Fruit! Wanda, thank you!” Geraldine said cheerfully as she took an apple. Wanda’s shoulder slouched with relief.

“Good luck with the leak.” Wanda breathed out as she began to follow Geraldine out. She was glad to have avoided any incident.

Geraldine continued speaking despite having the item she came for. Even though she knew it wasn’t neighborly, Wanda couldn’t help but tune out Geraldine as she spoke. If she wasn’t in the middle of giving birth she knew she would care more about being a good hostess, but that just wasn’t a priority to her at the moment.

That is until a stork appeared behind the couch Geraldine was currently rising from. “Wait, no! Tell me about the temp job!” She urged desperately, sighing in relief when Geraldine smiled and sat back down. The woman excitedly began recounting her story.

Seeing how thrilled her friend was, Wanda did her best to listen half-heartedly as the stork continued to wander around in the background despite numerous attempts to make it go away. Much to Wanda’s relief, Geraldine was oblivious to the chaos occurring around her as she engrossed in the story she was telling. Wanda was able to get away with just making small comments here and there.

As one disaster was averted, Geraldine began making her way into the nursery where the stork had just gone into. “Wait!” Wanda cried as she rushed after her, grabbing a vase to cover her stomach along the way.

“Is that what I think it is?” Geraldine asked, her tone serious as she looked in the direction of where the stork was perched against the painting on the wall.

A nervous chuckle escaped Wanda’s lips. “Oh, a stork. Yes. I can explain.”

Excitedly, Geraldine turned to face Wanda. “No! The crib.” She gestured to the object in question.

Not a moment after Geraldine began admiring the nursery, another contraction overtook Wanda, the force of it causing her to drop the vase. The object shattered at her feet. “Oh, it’s coming! The baby is coming!” She cried out through heavy breaths.

“You’re pregnant?” Geraldine questioned, eyes wide in bewilderment. Instead of answering another scream fell from Wanda’s lips as she placed her hands over her stomach.

Geraldine cautiously led Wanda out of the nursery. “Let’s get you comfortable.” She rushed over to the couch and began gathering the pillows.

Several items in the house began moving on their own as the radio stirred to life at a loud volume.

“Lovin' you is more than just a dream come true and everything that I do is out of lovin' you…”

Wanda began lowering herself to the floor, practically having to shout over the music. “I think I’m going to lay down right here. Y/n ran to get the doctor, she’ll be back soon.” She gritted out as she carelessly fell back against the floor.

Hurriedly, Geraldine shoved a pillow under Wanda’s head before it could make contact with the floor. “There’s not enough time for that. Relax, relax.” She frantically said as she rushed around the area, gathering different items. “You know your breathing, right?”

The radio began playing even louder as Wanda ground her teeth together, attempting to breathe in the rhythmical pattern she had practiced earlier. Rather than the rhythmic breathes, muffled screams slipped passed Wanda’s lips instead.

Geraldine gasped loudly as a chandelier fell near her and the music began playing even louder. “I may be late to the party, but I imagine there’s a logical explanation for this.” She told Wanda in a calming tone as she set down all the items she grabbed.

“It’s all perfectly natural!” Wanda managed in between screams as the volume of the radio continued to rise with her screams.

With wide eyes Geraldine took hold of Wanda’s knee to attempt to ground her. “Hey, hey, you’re doing great. Let’s start by turning off the music.” Geraldine shouted over the radio. Wanda faintly heard her and weakly waved a hand, effectively stopping the music, but the paintings continued spinning on the wall. “Look at me. Look at me.” Geraldine said calmly and began replicating the breathing Wanda had worked on with you earlier.

With terrified eyes, Wanda kept her gaze locked on Geraldine, desperately wishing you were there to comfort her through this. “I can’t.” she cried out, shaking her head as tears slowly fell down her cheeks.

“Yes, you can. You can do this.” Geraldine countered unflinchingly. Wanda continued shaking her head frantically. “Yes, you can!” she shouted at her.

The tears fell more steadily down Wanda’s cheeks as the fear set in. “I can’t.” She repeated tearfully. “I need Y/n. I need Y/n.” She begged, desperately seeking her one source of comfort.

Leaning down, Geraldine checked how far along Wanda was. “It’s time to start pushing.” She said excitedly with a smile. Wanda continued shaking her head. “You’re ready! Push! Push, Wanda!” She encouraged supportively.

With a scream, Wanda began pushing. All of the objects in the house began moving on their own until they suddenly stopped when Wanda’s screaming stopped. The soft coos coming from the baby filled the quiet room. “It’s a boy.” Geraldine announced with a smile. The smile that lit up Wanda’s face was incomparable to the happiness she felt in her heart. Geraldine wrapped him up handed her the baby.

The baby who was a piece of herself and you… the person she loved most in the world. “Hi... Hi.” She whispered to the baby as she traced a finger delicately along his cheek. “Oh, he’s perfect.”

Almost as soon as the words left her lips, you rushed into the home with Dr. Nielson on your back. “Oh no, I missed it.” You whispered sadly. The frown on your face faded when Wanda looked up at you with a smile that stopped your world. The way her eyes shone took your breath away. The world around you both faded as you stared at one another in an awestruck haze of love.

Indistinctly you could see Geraldine pull a shaky Dr. Nielson out of the room as you dazedly made your way over to your wife, kneeling at her side. “Every time I think I couldn’t be more in love...” You breathed out as your eyes fell on the bundle in her arms. Wanda’s breath hitched slightly as emotion flooded her eyes.

“Y/n, would you like to meet your son?” Wanda asked softly.

As gently as you could, you took the baby into your arms. The smile on your face growing even more when he looked up at you. Wanda’s heart fluttered at the sight. “Hello, little Billy.” You cooed as he took hold of your finger. .

Wanda tilted her head in surprise, unable to hold back her smile at your words. “Billy?”

With a nod, you lovingly looked back at her. “Yes. Billy.” Making sure Billy was secure in your arms, you leaned down to kiss Wanda. Just as your lips were about to connect, she began screaming.

Unsure of what was going on, you began yelling as well. “What?” you shouted in bewilderment. When you glanced down you realized what was happening. “Oh! There’s another baby coming!”

“Charlie!” Wanda shouted through the contraction.

“Wanda, push! Push!” You encouraged lovingly, all the while making sure Billy was safe in your arms. With you by her side, the fear that Wanda felt earlier vanished.

With you by her side she knew she could do anything.

When all was said and done, Dr. Nielson did one final glance over the twins. “Twenty fingers and twenty toes. You have one healthy baby boy and one healthy baby girl on your hands.” He declared cheerfully as he handed the baby in his arms back to Wanda.

Wanda eagerly took the baby back in her arms as you gently rocked the other. “Thank you, doctor.” She responded with a smile.

He turned and pointed at Geraldine. “And thank you for all your assistance, young lady. I think you might have what it takes to be a nurse.” Both Geraldine and Wanda shared amused looks with one another at the comment.

“Allow me to walk you out, doctor.” You offered as you gently placed the baby down in the crib.

Dr. Nielson nervously shifted. “As long as we’re actually walking this time.” He replied skeptically as he followed you out the door.

“Well, Dr. Nielson, I hope you’re still able to make your trip.” You said polietly with a smile when you both reached the front yard.

Again, Dr. Nielson shifted in place. “Yes, my trip. I don’t think we’ll make it after all. Small towns, you know, so hard to… escape.” He murmured cryptically before walking off.

For a moment you stared after him, wondering what he meant. Shaking it off, you turned to head back inside only to see Agnes and Ellie whispering amongst themselves by one of the walls that you shared with the house next door. “Hello, neighbors!” You called politely.

“Hey!” They replied suspiciously in unison before going back to whispering amongst themselves.

Unable to help yourself, you wandered over. “Remarkable day we’re having. Did you lose power too?” You asked in a friendly tone, noting the way their postures changed when you were near.

“Sure did, but Ralph looks better in the dark so I’m not complaining.” Agnes joked.

Ellie nodded along. “I barely even noticed it... I’m very resourceful.” She added with a wink.

You chuckled uncomfortably as they joined in with their own laughter. “Well. I better get back to Wanda.” You mumbled awkwardly, turning back towards the house.

“Y/n.” Ellie called after you, causing you to turn around. “Is Geraldine inside with Wanda?”

With furrowed brows you stepped closer to them, feeling unnerved by their behavior. “Yes, why?”

Ellie hesitated, almost as if she was unsure if she wanted to tell you. “She’s new to town. Brand new.”

“No family, no husband.” Agnes added, her expression portraying how odd she found the situation.

You shrugged indifferently. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with that.” You countered with a confused smile.

Agnes made a short noise of disagreement and Ellie pursed her lips. “No home.” Agnes eventually supplied.

“What?” you questioned disbelievingly. “What do you mean she has no home?”

Ellie shifted uncomfortably. “She came here because-… She came here because we’re all-… You are-…”

“She came here because we’re all what? I’m what? What are you trying to tell me?” You replied, feeling your patience wearing thin.

Shaking her head, Ellie continued. “She came here because you need to-”

“Stop it.” Agnes cut her off sharply as she turned to face her head on. You noticed the way she shook her head.

Almost as though someone flipped a switch, they both became upbeat again. “Well, we better get going.” Agnes rang the bell on her bike with a wink.

Ellie nodded along. “Those papers aren’t going to write themselves.” She said cheerfully as they both walked off leaving you thoroughly confused as you made your way back to your wife. ____________ “You’re such a strong lady.” Geraldine complimented Wanda who waved her hand bashfully in response. “Can you believe it? Twins!” She leaned forward to get a better look at the babies nestled safely in their cribs.

The smile on Wanda’s face was bright with all the love she felt in the moment. She stared at the two babies in the crib with Geraldine, her smile becoming somber. “I’m a twin.” She confessed. Her eyes glimmered with memories as she looked over at Geraldine. “I had a brother, his name was… Pietro. Y/n had a sister too. Anna. One in memory of each.” She whispered out softly her eyes falling to the babies again.

Lost in her memories, Wanda began singing a sokovian lullaby that would forever be nestled into her heart. The memory both painful and beautiful as she continued to sing to her children.

“He was killed by Ultron, wasn’t he?” Geraldine questioned suddenly, her expression grave. “And Y/n’s sister. Hydra murdered her to torture Y/n, didn’t they?”

The song died on Wanda’s lips with Geraldine’s words. Her brows furrowed as she processed what she had just heard. Her shoulders tensed. “What did you say?” A tear fell down her cheek. When Geraldine didn’t reply, Wanda turned towards her. “What did you say?” She repeated, her eyes cold.

A forced smile overcame Geraldine’s features. “I said, Wanda, you’re such a strong lady.” She moved to hover by the couch. “Should I say it again for good measure?”

“No.” Wanda said sharply. “What did you say about Pietro and Anna?”

Geraldine seemed to think for a moment, feigning confusion. “Pietro? Anna?” Wanda tilted her head. The babies began crying. “Hey, I’ll take a shift rocking the babies.” She offered as she began heading back over to the cribs.

Wanda stepped protectively in front of them. “No. I think you should leave.” She told her, her tone dark.

“Oh, Wanda, don’t be like that.” Geraldine retorted tensely.

For the first time, Wanda noticed the necklace around Geraldine’s neck. “What is that?” She insisted, pointing shakily to piece of jewelry. “That symbol.”

“I-uh…” Geraldine stuttered as she took hold of the necklace.

“Who are you?” Wanda demanded. The threat in her eyes sent a chill down Geraldine’s spine.

Geraldine faintly shook her head, her eyes troubled. “I don’t-”

“Who are you?” Wanda repeated sharply. The calm that overtook Wanda was unsettling as she slowly moved forward. Geraldine stepped back fearfully.

The front door burst open as you rushed inside. “Wanda, where’s Geraldine?” You questioned as you looked around the house.

“Oh, she left, honey. She had to rush home.” Wanda replied easily with her back towards you as she watched the babies sleep peacefully. . . . . “If no one is going to say it, I will. That episode was adorable.” Darcy emphasized as she watched both you and Wanda settle on the couch with a baby in each of your arms. Wanda leaned over and lovingly pressed a kiss to your lips as the credits rolled. “Aww… I mean, c’mon. Look at them, they’re so precious. And now they started a family.” Darcy cooed as she watched the screen fade to black.

There was silence for a moment. “The babies are cute.” Steve admitted quietly. The sound of a soft thud filled the room as Natasha once again hit the back of Steve’s head. “What? They are!”

Natasha shook her head. “They are, but the issue here is we’re being given a filtered broadcast. Someone is controlling what we’re allowed to see. And even worse, we don’t know what happened to Monica.”

“Natasha is right.” Fury interjected. “Darcy, you’ll be going to S.W.O.R.D. so you can gain some intel about what they’re planning.”

Darcy’s head snapped up in shock. “I’m just the astrophysicist here, not the Russian spy.” Natasha smirked at the comment.

“Even more of a reason they won’t suspect you.” Fury countered easily. “You can find Hayward’s plan… and find out if they’re the reason agent Fletcher is now a part of this.”

Steve crossed his arms. “Amelia was Y/n’s partner the entire time she was away from the Avengers. I have on good authority that they were close. I can’t imagine she’s there to harm her.”

“That was before the blip.” Natasha said calculatingly. “We can’t assume anything. She’s playing her part a little too well.”

As Steve was about to respond, Fury’s phone went off. They all watched with bated breath as he took the call. When he hung up, he turned to face them a pensive expression on his face. “It seems as though Monica has been found. Blasted through the hex.”

“You called it the hex!” Darcy exclaimed as they all turned to look at her in exasperation. “Sorry, not the time.”

This part may just be the longest piece I’ve ever written because there was so much I wanted to fit in. Also! If anyone wants to know what song I imagined Wanda and Y/n dancing around to in the beginning just let me know because I imagined a specific song in that scene, but didn’t feel it was important to include lol. Sorry for writing out Tommy, creating a different twin for Billy felt important to the story to properly express Wanda’s emotions.

As always, I hope you all enjoyed!

Thoughts and comments always welcome! I love hearing from you all! :)

#wanda maximoff #wanda #wanda marvel #wanda maximov #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff x reader #wandavision #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you #mcu x reader #wanda mcu #MCU x Y/N #Avengers #avengers x you #avengers x y/n

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tripleaxeldiaz · 3 years

Text

you’re my living proof my love is alive

for @eddiediaz HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAY <33

read on ao3

“Did you ever think we’d get here?”

Eddie opens his eyes, the shade of the tree they’re under saving him from an assault of sunlight. He’d been dozing off and on, lulled by the warm day and the soft breeze and Buck’s fingers raking through his hair where his head rested on his lap. But something about Buck’s voice — not a sadness, not an edge, but something — wakes him up fully, and he rolls onto his back to look up at Buck’s face. He follows where Buck’s eyes have landed — on their family, spread out around them, absorbed in their own conversations while kids flit in and around them like over excited butterflies. He’s looking at them wistfully and in some sort of awe, and Eddie waits for him to elaborate.

“To the park?” he asks slowly when it looks like an explanation isn’t coming. “It’s like a 10 minute drive from our house.”

Buck tugs his ear, fighting and losing to the smile spreading on his face. “No, asshole. I mean all of this. Our family. You and me. Did you ever imagine we’d get a life like this?”

The breeze seems to blow a little cooler as Eddie takes that in, because honestly? No. All of this, the joy that he’s found here, is brighter and better than anything he ever let himself dream about.

And it’s not that he never thought he’d be happy or filled with some kind of lightness. It just wasn’t a priority — not when he had a team to lead or a marriage to try and fail to fix or a kid to take care of on his own. Everything and everyone else came first because those were things he could handle, tangible things with some kind of concrete solutions, the direct opposite of the amorphous, unreachable discomfort that always seemed to sit right at the base of his skull. And there were moments of joy, especially with Christopher — his smile, his laugh, the way he lit up at any opportunity to learn something new. Those were good moments, great moments, and Eddie treasured all of them, locking them up tight in his heart because they were sometimes the only things that got him through the day.

But still. No matter what, at the end of the day, he’d find himself in bed, surrounded by silence, fighting off the aching loneliness that grew stronger as the sun went down. Only then would he let himself indulge — he’d imagine a dip in the mattress next to him, warm skin begging for his touch, craving that feeling of being wanted by someone else despite the demons and nightmares that still haunted him.

He doesn’t really know if it made the loneliness better or worse.

Moving to LA helped — a fresh start for both of them, more opportunities, no one hovering over his every move waiting to swoop in the minute he made a mistake. He felt lighter, excited even, like maybe now things would actually turn around for him, like maybe he was ready to fill that space that sat in his heart. Maybe Shannon coming back was a sign that she was supposed to fill it the whole time, just like he thought when they were 19.

But then she left, permanently, just as quickly as she came, and suddenly he wasn’t sure of anything his heart or soul was telling him anymore.

So he threw himself back into what he knew best — being there for everyone else. Whether at work or with Chris, his focus was solely on the outside, ignoring any pangs of longing or indulgences because they didn’t matter. A person could only survive so many broken hearts in their lives, and he’s certain that watching the life fade out of Shannon’s eyes with no way of stopping it was the last one he’d be able to handle. It wasn’t a waste, this focusing on other people, and he wasn’t unhappy — how could he be when he had the best kid, the best friend, the best family that he’d cobbled together for himself, that had saved him time and again without even knowing it?

The loneliness lingered, though. It wrestled with the fear he felt so hard sometimes it blew the breath right out of his lungs. He thought he did an okay job of hiding it until Bobby sat him down and told him it was okay to move on, that it was okay to want to let someone in, to not carry the burdens on his own anymore. And he knew that, rationally, but that wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that in the moments when his resolve cracked, his indulgences were no longer faceless. They had broad shoulders and strong arms, a halo of curls and eyes so blue they put the ocean to shame.

The problem was that this person was real and solid, an unshakeable presence in his and Chris’ world who smoothed out creases and stitched up tears in a way that was helpful, not in a way that made Eddie feel guilty for letting things get creased in the first place.

The problem was that the person his stupid, lonely heart had let in, without his consent, without him even noticing, was the person he knew would shatter his heart into a billion, unrepairable pieces if he ever lost him.

So he settled instead.

He found someone who was nice and low maintenance and good with Chris and it was enough. Or almost enough. Or as close to enough as he felt he deserved.

He feels another tug at his ear. “Did I lose you? Pretty sure your eyes just glazed over for like two minutes.”

Nothing he does gets past Buck, that’s for sure, and the knowledge of that warms him better than the sunshine. He reaches up and threads their fingers together, kissing the back of Buck’s hand before resting both on his chest, over his heart. He sighs, eyes slipping closed again. “Sorry. Zoned out for a second.”

“And forgot my question,” Buck says, squeezing his hand. “So did you? Imagine this? Or something like it, I guess.”

He’s better with words than he used to be, can be straightforward with his feelings without breaking out into a cold sweat. But still, these words stick, because years and countless therapy sessions later, he knows exactly how deep the darkness went back then, and he hates thinking about it. Hates remembering the full body ache of loneliness, how dull and bleak it made everything seem.

But also, he can’t — won’t — lie to Buck, and he’s warm enough now, surrounded by sunlight and laughter and Buck’s hand on his chest, that he’s not worried about being pulled under again.

“No,” he finally says. “I didn’t let myself think about anything like this for a really long time. But when I finally did, it was never as good as the real thing.”

Buck hums but doesn’t say anything else. He traces carefully over Eddie’s knuckles and the back of his hand, and Eddie almost falls asleep again.

“What changed your mind?” Eddie opens his eyes and Buck’s looking down at him now, an intense curiosity in his eyes, like he was just cycling through everything he knows about Eddie trying to figure out what made him believe in love again.

Knowing Buck, he probably was.

Eddie’s happy to save him the trouble. “I got shot,” he says simply, and Buck’s hand finally stills. Eddie reaches up, cupping Buck’s cheek, relishing in the way he automatically leans into his palm.

“I got shot,” he says again, “and you saved me, in every way you possibly could.”

It’s true — it wasn’t the first time a bullet had found a path through him, or even the first time he’d seen his life flash before his eyes. But as he lay there in the street, hot asphalt underneath him, weaker by the second, the only things running through his head were Chris and Buck and ChrisandBuck, and his only regret was that Buck didn’t know — about his guardianship of Chris, about how he made Eddie feel something like hopeful for the first time in years, any of it.

As his vision blacked out, Buck’s face streaked with blood and panic was the last thing he saw, and he vowed to make sure Buck knew everything if he made it out of this.

Of course, nothing is ever that easy.

After he woke up, with Buck’s name on his lips but Ana’s hand in his, everything became a waiting game.

He waited for Buck to show up at the hospital, out of breath but still so dazzling, his very presence making Eddie feel like he could run a marathon right then.

He waited for them to finally be alone so they could talk, but only got through telling him about the guardianship before Buck got a text from Taylor that made him smile so softly the rest of Eddie’s speech died in his throat.

He waited to break it off with Ana long enough that he didn’t seem like a jackass, waited as Buck and Taylor flew higher and higher before crashing, waited for days and weeks and months, waited, waited, waited.

But it didn’t hurt. All that time, it wasn’t excruciating, it didn't feel like a waste, because he knew from the minute he woke up that he was waiting for something. He could feel the anticipation burning up inside him, and it wasn’t going to be for nothing this time.

Finally, finally, just as naturally as they had fallen into each other’s lives the first time, they fell together again — in the dim light of Eddie’s kitchen, empty beer bottles and raw, unfiltered words between them, reliving the day they hadn’t been able to talk to each other about for the past nine months. Eddie’s hands shook and Buck took them in his and Eddie knew this was his moment.

He looked Buck dead in the eye and said, “You’re the reason I’m sitting here right now, and I’m in love with you.”

The evening air crackled in the silence, and neither of them moved. Eddie was pretty sure even his blood had stopped flowing as he waited, until suddenly everything snapped.

Suddenly they were both leaning in, suddenly they were kissing and whispering I love yous soft and desperate across each other’s skin.

Suddenly everything began.

He shakes his head a bit as he comes back to the present. Buck doesn’t say anything this time, just smiles and kisses the center of Eddie’s palm where it’s still resting on his cheek, tangles their fingers together again before placing them back on Eddie’s chest.

“You saved me too, you know,” Buck says quietly. “I wasn’t the one who got shot, but still, you did. You always do.”

“Always will,” Eddie says, because it’s true, and the easiest promise he’s ever made. Buck is his hope, his light in the dark, every other cheesy cliche, and Eddie will work for the rest of his life to make sure Buck feels safe and loved. It’s the least he could do for all that Buck has given him.

They lapse back into quiet, enjoying the sounds of the park and their family, and Eddie feels something he's been too afraid to name until now, a holdout from years of guarding himself.

He’s happy. Truly, with no caveats or strings attached, unbelievably happy.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fox #buddie fic #911 fic #9-1-1 #IT'S MY WIFE'S BDAY ALL THE EDDIE EMOTIONS FOR HER #ficcery

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anonil88 · 4 years

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Malcolm and Marie live blog

I don't usually do liveblogs for movies but yea.

Spoilers ahead!!

I love that its modern timed but very 70s stylized.

A tune indeed.

When you are high and drunk on success and

How the white critic reacts is why I feel like gatekeeping my scripts. At the same time some things I do make are about race or involve.

Marie sitting on the patio smoking is a mood whenever men are talking.

So he's pretentious and unaware.

Whoever chose the music for this, I feel like we would be Spotify mutuals.

Can this nigga stop pacing.

Also can he stop talking;

Marie is so tired and unimpressed.

Also little booties matter and are to be bitten.

Oooo the tension and the jazz.

Title Card over mac and cheese.

Shitty boxes mac and cheese but still mac and cheese.

Tbh i always wonder if spouses/significant others get upset when their spouses don't acknowledge them during speeches.

John sounds so much like his dad but I really hope his acting style differs from his dad a lot.

Guilty confession?

He did not profit off of his partners backstory and then not even acknowledge her.....I.....

If that ever happened to me catch me cussing my partner out during the beginning credits, the end credits, in the car, and at home.

GASLIGHTER!

The way I'm excited for Zendaya to give me some, oooo can she work with Regina King. Please on my knees I pray.

Um no that's not your job to coddle your lead.

He's a dick and the type of dick who makes himself look like a good person around other people.

If Sam Levinson is trying to make his viewers more of misandrist, it's working.

I feel like Marie has her flaws probably a lot of them and we will surely see as this continues, but Malcolm needs to learn how to apologize sincerely.

70s vibes! 70s vibes!

Them kissing and talking about criticism and dreams makes me miss a partner. A partner that I've had and haven't had.

Women really are behind every great man.

Yea sir you fucked a happy moment.

Oh visual allegories for looking in from the outside and cat and mouse chasing and looking from the outside in.

She's saying she doesn't feel noticed by you.

Gas lighter :0 he called her an emotional support dog, bruh.

I would LOVE to co-write or take a writing class held by Sam Levinson. The fights i write are very much in this same realm of reflection and anger and monologue.

Sam.....sam.....are all the sides inside of you doing okay sir?

The ugly side of dating and being in a relationship with someone who struggles with their own demons.

Honestly I could close my eyes and listen to this script being read without seeing these characters visually. Just close my eyes and get a sense of these characters like it was a radio story.

Oh. Oh this is a new wheelhouse of Zendaya acting; a different voice is like breaking through here and her expressions aren't the same we are used to. You can literally hear another character in there....hmm.

Mans is outside really fighting with his invisible demons lmfao.

Selfish ass, how after everything she said you came out of it thinking about your own craft and self instead of how you hurt her.

So she's conditional.

Me: did sam (a white man) say nigga this many times in his script or are the actors adding their own inflections. Not just the lingo used but the topic of race and directing etc. being written by a white writer about black characters is always gonna be a critique when you're writer is a white person.

Alexa play Broken Girls by Saba

He is so hurtful.

A clown nigga a clown look in the fucking mirror you bozo head ass looking like you need some Mehron clown white and a size 16 in clown shoes.

John is doing a really swell performance and reading of these lines.

He is reading her for her insecurities by bringing up his experiences with other women and that.....is yikes.

Arguments can get messy like this in real life but it takes a lot of maturity and control to either not let it get to this point or have a healthy conversation afterwards.

This film is really shot on some very crisp lenses.

They sitting there like 🚬🧍‍♀️🧍‍♂️.

Leftover Mac and Cheese and unfinished cigarettes.

The nyt etc. pay walls are so annoying, but there is a work around look at the articles on incognito or add a period at the end of the url.

He sounds like his daddy so much here, weird, this is the only part I'm eh on the dialogue it feels real but a bit out of pace in how they are bouncing off one another.

Nail scissors? So the end is not the only part he based off of Marie. 🙄

ITS A GOOD REVIEW YOU DINGUS but also its a full review they are going to critique things. She isn't wrong though he did profit off of a woman's story that was not his own to profit from.

Yes Malcolm because unfortunately all marginalized people look through a lens of life that is inherently political because of the world they live in.

He is so mad and upset and had a lot on his chest. But I think he Malcolm and Sam are talking about something thats an issue and a non issue. Being critiqued for you art is hard but also Malcolm is not super self aware. He's like a stand in figure of for example rich depop sellers who wanna be oppressed so badly they yell at others instead of examining their own personal behaviors and ethics.

Oh Marie, when you know the spark is gone and you pick fights because.

He ain't even ask her to read?

One critic I have for most of hollywood actors is they learn their cry and that is it. A change from this is Margot Robbie, I adore her fluctuations of crying being similar but the crying is carried differently for each character. If I had to say any actor that does a cry scene amazing its this woman right here (Amy Adams)

You stole her story from her and gave it away, she has a right to be upset and angry and a rubber band ball of emotions.

Citizen Kane, not the cinematography, but the story is it even that good? (Unpopular opinion but meh, maybe in my rewatch it will be better.)

But that is what people want authenticity and whatever authenticity means to them. What is real for one is false for another.

To be honest look at the criticism of Euphoria, well earned, but a lot of people were like this isn't real even though he literally wrote about his own life. People said it was inauthentic like....wtf.

Ahh the smoking is just a habit, he quit and she didn't.

CAST ZENDAYA IN A HORROR MOVIE PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING. Get Lupita and Zendaya and some more black actors preferably less known ones in a horror movie. One with a interesting script and story, directed by Regina King. Please and thankyou.

I love Marie yep that was amazing.

Behind every great man is a greater woman, one that deserves her credit for how she has stood behind. I wonder the stories of those women, what they have sacrificed or not sacrificed. Their thoughts and feelings when the world is surrounding their partner and views them as a plus one. (I'd write a short script about this but I think do I have the time, can I, or am I equipped ?)

He is a shitty person for bringing up his exes, like she even said I don't wanna know any of that.

Imagine being on anti depressents and rarely having a sex drive and then when you do your partner starts talking about their exes and tearing you apart for all your faults.

I love when you see peaks of Zendaya's cadence in roles.

Tension, what if's and he didn't even bring her up in his speech.

Marie to herself and the audience:

He is not afraid that he will loose her but as my character says in my unreleased story, "i can't wait til you give me a fucking reason to leave your ass." Malcolm expects everything in order for not even doing the bare minimum and she is only asking him for something as simple as consideration. She just wants him to be considerate. He wants to get married and considers their relationship like rolling down a hill at full speed and he cannot apologize, he cannot be considerate, and he cannot admit his wrongs. He can only offer her I love yous that he probably does mean but he does not back up outside of what he's done for her in the past. The past which was more of her experience than his and he sees his part in it as a burden. He doesn't use his own vantage point of the past to further his career he uses her. He does all of these things without a real apology or thankyou because he is not afraid to loose her.

The restrictions of quarantine and the panorama have made Sam's writing very no frills. I wonder how other films from other directors and writers that are filmed in small contained crews like this will be structured. But this was a very good movie gonna add to my letter box 3.3-3.5

Oh shit this is my song,

Ratings/overall thoughts:

Script is like a C+, B- : I could go into my heavier big brain thoughts on the script but I don't feel like it. You catch hints of it above it centers conversation on race and privilege, mainly the writers and questions i have that won't be answered but Sam did make me grow disdain for Malcolm over a short time. Which is sometimes hard to do because im one sympathetic person but the sympathy i have for Malcolm is at 0. Maybe a 2 at some scenes but then it quickly goes back to 0. Some parts of the dialogue miss the mark or hit the are off balanced. While some of it like Malcolm's bathroom speech albeit mean is really strong or their conversation when he comes back from peeing really shines for me.

Performances: B+ to A- because they carried the script further than it could of gone with less talented actors. The monologues do well to showcase their current skill levels which are already high af and leave room for anticipation in where these actors go next.

Zendaya holding a knife: A+ with a gold star. That switch on and off and on is delectable.

John being a shitty boyfriend but following Marie like a lost puppy: B+ with a good job written at the bottom of the paper, Malcolm being nervous a frantic dialed up with more realistic nervousness would have sold me completely on Malcolm's anxious waiting.

Cinematography: A and a participation award.

The mac and cheese: A+ for the easy mac. Wish it was like Annie's or Velveeta.

Cigarettes: Participation award and their picture hung up for student of the month. Why the grill lighter? Everytime Malcolm opened up his mouth Marie was like sparks fly.

The music: A++ with a prize. Whoever picked the music probably makes good Spotify playlists.

#Malcolm & Marie #malcolm and marie #zendaya coleman #zendaya #john david washington #liveblog #mine

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escape-from-reality-fics · 4 years

Text

Blankets and Movies ❋ Kim Tae Hyung

↳ Pairing: Kim Tae Hyung (V)/Reader

↳ Word Count: 2,554

⁙ Summary: Taehyung wrapping a blanket around Y/N when they are sitting on the couch and watching a show/movie after she has a bad day and confides in him

⚠️ Warnings: Contains minor mentions of self esteem issues/depression. Please do not read if you are triggered by any of these!

Today just wasn't your day. Nothing particularly wrong had happened thankfully; however, you just woke up in a horrible mood and couldn't seem to shake it. Your boyfriend Taehyung hadn't given you a goodbye kiss, and you were upset. You being upset led to you snapping over the phone at your best friend, Kenzie. Which then led to a small fight, Kenzie refusing to talk to you.

Then, at work, your computer short-circuited and you had lost the 2-hour long progress you had made. When your lunch break came around, you ended up overcooking your lasagna in the work microwave, burning it beyond edibility. Coming home from work was no small feat, either. You had gotten stuck in a traffic jam for close to 2 hours.

Now here you were, finally home. Starving, cranky, and sleepy. You couldn't decide between wanting to eat a whole box of cereal or flopping in your bed and sleeping until you were old and wrinkly. After a brief moment of hesitation, you decide just to skip eating for now and instead have a nap, praying it would make a little bit of your lousy mood dissipate.

You shed your work clothes quickly, tossing them across the room and narrowly missing the clothes hamper. Waving it off, you promptly threw on one of Taehyung's shirts, practically diving into your shared bed and curling up under the plush duvet. Your hand blindly reached out in the bedroom's darkness, patting the bed around you until you found what you needed. Feeling the cool fabric under your fingertips, you snatched up the TaTa plushie, snuggling it close to your face and inhaling Taehyung's scent.

As you laid there, the day's events raged around your head like a tsunami. You couldn't help but let out a little whimper as you remembered everything terrible that had gone wrong. Bringing a hand up to rub at your eyes, you let out a pitiful sniffle. You were too overwhelmed lately, with work and stress and deadlines. However, you felt you couldn't confide in Taehyung. With his packed schedule and own stress, you wouldn't dare burden him with your meaningless problems.

So you did what you usually do, and cried it out as you clutched onto the TaTa plushie for dear life, burrowed under your nest of blankets. You let everything out, your poor pillow getting soaked with salty tears. After a while, your tears ran out, tear tracks sticky on your cheeks. Rolling over, you grabbed your phone off the nightstand, squinting as the bright light assaulted your eyes. It was almost time for Taehyung and the rest of the guys to get home. Throwing your phone down beside you, you tug the duvet up around your chin, shutting your eyes and letting yourself slip into a floating dream.

At this point, BTS was on the way back to the dorm after a day filled with photo shoots and dance practices. Everyone was sore and tired, ready to go home and finally relax for a couple of days. Taehyung groaned softly to himself as he stretched his neck, seated in the large van that was taking them home. He especially couldn't wait to get back and cuddle you. He knew you hadn't had the best wake-up this morning and felt extremely bad for leaving you without your usual morning kiss. He planned to cuddle with you as soon as he got back to the dorm.

"What are we gonna eat for dinner, Jin Hyung?" Jungkook asked as he yawned, tired from the early morning start they had. Everyone was in some state of sleep or alertness, ready to get back to the dorm to shower and eat. Some of the boys perked up at Jungkook's question, wondering the same thing but too tired to voice it.

"We might just order something. I'm too tired to cook," Jin responds from his seat at the front of the van, eyes still shut as he tries to rest. They all agree with his idea and start to argue over what food to order. Taehyung stays quiet as he stares out the window, ready to get home and cuddle with you.

After a short amount of time, the van finally pulled up to their apartment building, a gorgeous high rise looking out over the city. They arrived in the parking garage, members clambering out of the van as it finally parked. Taehyung noticed your car parked in its usual parking spot, meaning that you were home. He was pushed to get up to the apartment faster, some of the other boys protesting the fast pace, trying to catch up with him.

"Yah, Taehyung, slow down! Why are you in a rush?" Hoseok called as he tried to catch up to his younger band mate, the rest of the boys behind him. Taehyung turned around quickly and smiled his big boxy smile, radiating happiness.

"Hyung (Y/N) is home! I really can't wait to see her, so we have to hurry," Taehyung calls to them as he proceeds to make it to the elevator, impatiently pushing the button to call it to their floor. The rest of the boys finally catch up, some huffing as they try to catch their breath. The elevator finally arrives, and Taehyung waits impatiently for the rest of the members to clamber on as well, before pressing the button for their floor.

It takes less than 20 seconds to get to their floor, but for Taehyung, it feels like a lifetime. When they finally get to their stop, he is the first one out, rushing to the door of their apartment, hastily unlocking it with his key and stepping inside.

"Jeez Tae, you don't have to rush. (Y/N) is still going to be here even if we took an hour," Jimin comments, entering the apartment behind Taehyung, exchanging his shoes for slippers. Taehyung scowls a bit at Jimin's comment but takes off his shoes and slides on his slippers, instantly making a beeline for his room where he knew you would be. He approaches his room and opens the door, expecting you to be sitting in bed reading or watching some crazy theory video on Youtube. However, he was shocked when he saw the outline of your body underneath the bed's comforter, face buried in your pillow. Taehyung frowns to himself, already realizing that you weren't doing that well. He starts to make his way towards the bed but freezes when you groan and roll over, blinking at the soft light streaming in from the hallway.

"Tae? Is that you?" You slur as you try to blink the sleep out of your eyes, sitting up in bed and brushing your wild hair out of your face. Taehyung approaches the bed and sits down next to you, gently kissing your head and smiling.

"Hey, baby. How was your day today?" Taehyung asks as you snuggle into his arms, welcoming his embrace. He could feel you stiffen in his arms, the question bothering you. He was worried because he knew you weren't one to tell anyone about your worries or troubles.

"Babe? Did something happen?" He asks as you pull away from his arms, your gaze cast downwards. You don't answer for a minute or two; the room cloaked in awkward silence. When you looked back up at him, your eyes were glazed with tears and your bottom lip was trembling, a telltale sign that you were on the verge of a breakdown.

"Tae… It was so hard," You sobbed out, shoulders shaking with each trembling breath you took. Taehyung could feel his heart breaking, realizing that this wasn't just from events that happened today.

"Oh, sweetheart," he breathed as he pulled you back into his arms, laying you both down on the comfy bed. You snuggled into his chest, your salty tears soaking his expensive shirt, but he didn't care. He just wanted to comfort you.

"Tell me what happened, okay? Just let it all out."

The dam broke as you started talking (well sobbing) about everything that happened that day and then proceeded also to tell Taehyung about your earlier worries. His grip tightened on you as he gently rubbed your back to console you, occasionally planting a kiss on your head.

By the time you had finished your emotional rant, your chest felt lighter, and your mind felt clearer. Sitting up in the bed, you pulled away from Taehyung's grip and wiped your eyes, letting out a watery laugh.

"Sorry for springing this all on you, Tae. I didn't want to be dramatic," you admitted, watching as Taehyung sat up as well, a frown marring his handsome face.

"Baby, I want you to tell me these things. I want to know when you're feeling upset or insecure or angry. I want to hear about your day, whether it's good or bad. Don't hold back anymore, please," he pleaded, grabbing your face in his large hands and making you look him in the eyes.

"Okay, Tae," you forced out as he squished your cheeks lovingly. Taehyung gave you a radiant smile and brought your face close to his, giving you a deep, loving kiss. It lasted for all of 10 seconds before your stomach rumbled, breaking the warm atmosphere.

"Are you hungry, or are you hiding a bear in your stomach?" Taehyung jokingly asked, watching as your face turned scarlet with embarrassment. You sputtered out an apology as Taehyung laughed his deep laugh, standing up and bringing you with him.

"Come on love, let's get some food," Taehyung says as you both leave your shared room, your eyes squinting against the brightness of the hallway. You both end up traveling to the living room, finding that most of the group was lounging around.

"Hey (Y/N), how was work today?" Hoseok asks as he notices your and Taehyung's arrival. The rest of the boys look up and say their greetings; you give a small nod and wave in return.

"Uh, it was… eventful, to say the least," you scratch the back of your neck sheepishly. Hoseok takes the hint, not pushing any further. Taehyung takes this chance to speak up, looking to Jin, who was reading in the armchair.

"Hyung, are we going to order food soon? (Y/N) sounds like she hasn't eaten in 84 years," Taehyung asks him as the others laugh when your stomach rumbles, creating perfect timing.

"Well, we can always order from the chicken place around the corner? They're pretty fast and have good food," Jin suggests as Namjoon already pulls up the delivery service on his phone. Everyone quickly shouts what they want, and they order.

"Yah Jungkook scooch over you lump," Taehyung scolds as he notices the maknae taking one whole couch. Jungkook rolls his eyes but ends up sliding over to the one side, giving you and Taehyung enough room to sit down and snuggle.

You quietly chat with Jungkook, who was on your right, talking about the newest Overwatch update. After about 20 minutes of quiet chatter with Jungkook, Yoongi and Jimin occasionally joining, the food arrives.

"Alright, you heathens if I see anyone drop any of this on the floor or the furniture I am never letting you guys taste my cooking ever again," Jin threatens as he passes out the containers of fried chicken, everyone sitting around the coffee table and digging in.

"Yes, Jin Oppa," you smile as you grab a piece of chicken, popping it into your mouth. Jin smiles at you, always appreciating your dedication to cleanliness.

The chicken gets consumed relatively quickly; everyone quiets apart from the TV playing the newest Running Man episode. Jimin and Hoseok clean up the boxes, and everyone agrees to a movie before heading to bed.

Two movies get debated, Spirited Away or Parasite, and with a 5 to 3 vote, Spirited Away is chosen. You can feel yourself becoming sleepy again, your belly full and sated.

"Sweetheart, if you want to go to bed, you can," Taehyung whispers in your ear as he notices you jolt awake from where you were drifting off. You grumble something back at him, although he can't make out what you said, curling into his body for warmth.

"Hyung, can you pass me that blanket behind you?" He whispers to Yoongi, nodding at the fluffy throw blanket on the back of his loveseat. Yoongi blinks and throws it Taehyung's way, Taehyung giving him an unamused look when he gets smacked in the face with it.

You give an appreciative hum when Taehyung wraps the blanket around the two of you, providing more comfort. It takes less than a minute to fall asleep, the white noise of the movie helps.

Taehyung smiles down at your sleeping face, pressing a quick kiss to your temple and holding you closer to him. He looks up as he hears a quiet camera click, seeing all of his band mates and brothers looking towards the two of you with big smiles.

"You guys love each other, huh?" Jimin asks with a heartwarming smile. Taehyung glances back down at you, noting your peaceful expression and steady breathing.

"I love her more than I love living itself, Hyung. She was so upset today and felt like she couldn't tell me because of how busy we are with the comeback preparations," Taehyung murmured, frowning a bit as he remembered your earlier conversation.

"You know how (Y/N) is like Tae, even before the two of you started dating she was always so worried about causing stress to us just by being our friend," Hoseok reminds him, seeing how upset the younger was by how reserved you were with him.

"I know Hyung. I just want her to open up more. I love her so much, and I want her to be happy," Taehyung said, readjusting his grip on you as you wiggled into a more comfortable position.

"She is happy with you, Tae. Everyone can see that. You both just have to work on this moving forward. It's all going to be okay," Namjoon advises him, his wise words striking a chord in Taehyung.

"You're right, Hyung."

"I know I am. Anyways I think it's bedtime for everyone, it's getting late, and we have more things to do tomorrow," Namjoon states, everyone, groaning and stumbling off to their rooms.

"I'm gonna take (Y/N) to bed, I'll see you in the morning Hyungs," Taehyung whispers, lifting you with ease and tucking the blanket back around your sleeping body.

He enters your shared bedroom, gently tucking you into the bed as you rolled over and grumbled, kicking your legs a bit. Taehyung giggles, changing quickly into PJs before he slips into bed next to you, pulling the blankets up around you both.

"Hnnng? Tae?" You mumble as you wake up a bit from your sleep. Taehyung shushed you, gently stroking your hair to put you back to sleep.

"Go to sleep, baby. I love you so much," Taehyung whispers into the quiet of the night. You settle down and start to feel your eyes shut again.

"I love you too, Tae, so much."

What had started as a bad day had become a good one, Taehyung always brightening up your life. You wouldn't have it any other way.

#bts #fanfic #taehyung x reader #v x reader #kpop fluff #kpop angst #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop drabbles #bts fanfic #kpop writing #writing #bts members #bts x reader

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mcufox123 · 3 years

Text

The Best Part of You

This is part 2 of “The Worst of You.”

Summary: what happens after time apart for both of you to grow? Will your relationship with wanda survive?

A/N: This part is kind of rushed. I had a storyline for it but decided to go in another direction instead. This is sort of so we all have closure from the first part. Also this is loosely based on Noah Cyrus and P.J. Hardings “The Best Part of You.”

Warnings: Recovery?

I DON'T OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS

*****************************************************************************************************

Getting better proved to be harder than you thought. After you had agreed that you needed help the hard conversation started. All of Earth’s mightiest hero’s voicing their concerns about you and that they wanted to help. There was not a minute in the conversation that you had a dry eye, feeling so guilty for all the pain and worry you caused. The one thing that you tried to avoid, being a burden to everyone, ended up being the one thing you were doing. They were worried about your drinking, they were worried about how closed off you were, they were worried about your powers, they were worried about everything about you.

“Y/N we love you and we are here for you.” Were the final words of the conversation from Steve.

After the initial conversation you sat down with Bruce to make a plan. You both decided that therapy was the first step. You would wake up in the morning and start your day with a run with Steve. Then, every morning, you would have a therapy session with Dr. Raynor. Then you would go to the training facility with Natasha and Bruce to work with your powers and learn more about them. Natasha also helped you train in hand-to-hand combat. You both were evenly matched. The fact that it was after therapy was great because you got out all of your frustrations from the session. After that you would usually grab lunch and then meditate with Bucky, most the time complaining about Dr. Raynor. After hanging out with Bucky, you would talk with Bruce about your anger and how you could manage it better. Then came your time with Tony in the lab, just tinkering away, sometimes doing reckless stuff like flying around in Iron Man suits. After that was dinner, everyone usually ate together, besides Tony who went home. After dinner you would write Wanda a letter and read the one Nat usually gave you from her.

That was always your favorite part of the day. Hearing about her adventures wherever she was. The team, of course, didn’t tell you. They kept her location hidden so that you could both heal. At first it was rough. You tried so hard to get in contact with her and go where she was. The team was strong though and wouldn’t let you out of the compound. In the beginning they put an ankle monitor on you, so you had to stay in the house. It was torture.

Along with all of the work you were putting in, they also helped with your alcoholism. They didn’t try to completely cut you off though. They let you drink; they would just watch and moderate you. You were allowed one glass of whisky a night, two on weeknights. They kept the rest locked up. Soon you only drank the ones on the weekends opting not to drink during the weeknights.

It took you days to start to accept the help. It took weeks for you to start to get into a rhythm and start to feel a little bit better. It took months before you felt a little lighter. And at just about a year, you felt a complete sense of calm. You were lighter. You could have fun like you used to without blacking out. You learned how to control your powers with both ice and fire. You leaned on your team when you needed them, and you could finally be there for them again. You pushed yourself hard to get better, putting in the work.

Wanda had taken the year to be at peace with her life. She took trips to Wakanda often and they helped her work through her grief. When she wasn’t in Wakanda she joined the teams on their missions, being grateful for still being able to see them. She also was loving her domestic life helping Pepper with Morgan, especially since the Starks were expecting a new addition to the family. Wanda often imagined what life would be like with you when you got better. She wanted to marry you, to have a family with you, to grow old with you. She knew it would take time, but she was willing to wait.

A few months before you had come up on a year of healing Natasha went to visit Wanda.

“She’s doing much better Wanda. She seems like herself, the drinking isn’t a problem anymore and her powers are incredible.” Natasha gushed about you. Wanda felt a sense of pride well in her at hearing your progress. A pang of guilt also washed over her because she couldn’t be there for you to help you. Natasha caught it “You did the right thing giving her space, you both are going to see in the end.” She gave the witch a sad smile.

“When can I see her? If she’s doing better, can’t I come home?” Wanda felt stupid but she missed you so much.

“Soon Wanda, I promise soon.” And they sat on the dock watching the sky change colors.

The week that had been your one year of getting help, you were taking a walk with Bucky around the compound.

“You’re doing great Y/N. You should really be proud of yourself.” Bucky said while patting your back. “How do you feel?”

“I feel good. I feel light, like some weight has just been lifted off ya know.” You say, reflecting on the past year, “You know it was rough at the start. I hated all of you.” You say with a chuckle. “But looking at where I was then, and where I am now. It’s just I am so grateful for everything, and everyone. How’s Wanda?” Bucky was visiting her yesterday and you were eager to hear about the woman who was the only thing you couldn’t keep off your mind.

“She’s doing amazing! She learned to control her powers more. She seems free, but she never fails to ask me about you. She’s proud of you.” You smiled as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders.

After that there was a comfortable silence all the way back to the compound. You had time now after Bucky because your anger was under control and you didn’t have to meet with Bruce anymore.

You decided to take a short nap in your room. You deserved a nap. You laid in bed not even taking in your surroundings, closed your eyes, and fell into a deep sleeping dreaming about a specific pair of emerald eyes.

While you were napping Wanda was in the compound cooking up your favorite dinner. She had moved all of her stuff back into your room which you didn’t notice. She was back now, for good and she made a promise to herself to never leave you again no matter how bad she was herself. She felt amazing being home and cooking, but she couldn’t keep her nerves at bay. When she saw you in the room sleeping, she couldn’t stop staring. You looked so peaceful, just as you had all those months ago. This time, however, your face was glowing, and your hair was in a loose messy bun, and Wanda knew you were better. She wanted to crawl right into bed next to you and snuggle close, breathing you in. But she didn’t know that she would’ve rather surprised you.

Natasha was the first to come in the kitchen. She was the one who called Wanda about a week ago and told her it was time to come home.

“Hey Wanda!” she said as she gave her friend a welcome home hug. “I am so happy you’re back I missed you, and you’re cooking so much!”

“Thanks, I missed you guys too!” she said as she rolled her eyes. Natasha and Wanda entered into conversations about coming home and how excited they were to see your reaction. Soon enough the rest of the group started to enter the kitchen, even Thor. It would be the first time you were all under the same roof since Tony’s party last year. The kitchen was bustling, and everyone was so happy to be together. Wanda kept her eyes peeled for the hallway waiting for you to enter.

You opened your eyes to noise coming from the kitchen. You walked to the kitchen smelling your favorite dish cooking. Only one person knew how to cook your favorite meal. Your pace started to quicken your pace, trying to confirm your suspicions faster. You walked in to be disappointed however by just seeing the team. You walked over to the counter to see what was cooking and saw that it was indeed your favorite meal. Your heart started to beat faster because you knew she was here.

“What’s the matter Y/N?” Nat asked you with a smile on her face, you didn’t notice however because your eyes were trying to find the pair that had been in your dreams for over a year. You didn’t even answer Nat. You were losing hope when all of a sudden, arms snaked around your waist. You felt your whole being just relax at the touch.

“Oh, how I missed you, my love.” You heard a soft Sokovian voice say behind you. You turned around so fast in her arms and held her so tight. You buried your face in her neck, taking in her scent. You finally looked at her after a few minutes to see that her eyes had glazed over, threating to shed tears. You quickly brought your hands up to her cheek, caressing them with your thumbs to make sure she was really there.

“Hi,” was the only word you were able to get out.

“Hi,” Wanda whispered back to you. You weren’t sure what else to say or do you were in shock. There was so much you had to say, that you had to apologize for. You had talked many times with Dr. Raynor about what would happen when you saw her again, but no amount of preparation could help you in this moment. She still shined with her beautiful smile, and she still looked at you with such admiration, but you had hurt her. You had worked through all of the guilt and resentment you had for yourself but seeing her again brought it all back.

She could sense your internal battle, instead of making you think more or say anything else, she took you over to the stove and made your try the pasta sauce to make sure it was ok. It felt like normal, like before the blip, before your spiral. You were grateful that she didn’t press for more at the moment.

You helped her get the rest of dinner ready, often your hands would brush past the other, or you would be so close that it was hard to leave her proximity. You enjoyed the time, and you enjoyed everyone else being there too. The conversations were so light and happy. It felt like it was back to normal.

Dinner went by with the light atmosphere. Tony could not stop gushing about your new project that you had both been working on. He was trying to make a spaceship to go back and explore space and this afternoon you figured out how the oxygen in the spacecraft would be recycled so you could be in space for an extended period of time. Thor was having fun making fun of the fact that guys that you had never visited another planet.

The whole time Wanda’s hand was placed gently on your leg with your hand over hers.

“Would anyone like a round in celebration?” Thor asked while getting up and walking to the bar. Everyone raised their hands including you. You could feel Wanda physically tense besides you, fearing the person you once were. You gave her a reassuring smile and squeezed her hand.

“It’s ok, I’m ok.” You leaned over and whispered in her ear. She seems to relax the smallest bit, still feeling tense, however. You scoot your chair closer to her and wrap your arm around her back. She leans into you like old times.

Thor passes everyone their drinks and Tony raises his glass, “I would like to make a toast, to these great people in front of me. These past few years have been tumultuous to say the least, with the big three, people disappearing, health deteriorating, friendships lost, and the world falling apart. We got through it though. We are stubborn though, every single one of us, no exceptions, and we are all still here. We leaned on each other and took the time we needed. We should all be proud of ourselves.” He said this while looking directly at you. “So, without further ado, to the Avengers! May we always have the peace and family that we have here right now” he finished while raising his glass and toasting everyone.

You raised your glass and instead of gulping it all down like you used to do, Wanda was happy to see you sipping the beverage, putting the glass down so it could last you the whole night.

The night carried on with stories, games, and singing old songs. Towards the end of the night, you took Wanda’s hand and led her outside, away from everyone. You both walked on in a comfortable silence before coming to the gazebo Steve had built by the lake.

“I’m proud of you.” Were the first words that were said by Wanda. You felt a sharp pain hit you however, and the words were not comforting at all. Not till you at least said your part.

“Please not yet.” You whispered bowing your head in embarrassment. She gave you a few moments to gather yourself before she took your face in her hands making you look at her. She was beautiful. “I am so sorry for what I did to you. The pushing you away, the drinking, the keeping you out on how I felt. I was so numb and lost. It was hard even just being me.” You saw her flinch at your last sentence, but you pushed on wanting to tell her everything. “When the blip happened, I tried so hard to get you back and when I couldn’t I fell apart. I didn’t live much then. I shut everyone out and I hardened myself. When I saw you back at the battle, I felt so happy but so much guilt, like I didn’t deserve you because I had given up. I hated myself. I couldn’t be around you without feeling like the worst person alive.” Tears now streamed freely down both your faces.

“I’m ok now Wanda. I'm still working but I am so much better. I am so sorry for all of the pain and hurt that I put you through. I love you so much, and I didn’t show you before. If you gave me another chance, I am going to work every day to make it up to you.” You said while taking her face in your hands.

“I love you Y/N. I forgive you for all of it. These experiences that we went through are something no one should have to. But we do, we save the day, and everyone loves us. They don’t recognize the toll that it takes on us afterwards. I’ll say it again because I am so proud of you. You have made so many strides and are an amazing person. I love you, all the worst parts of you which are few, and all of the best parts.” She says gazing into your eyes.

“The best parts of me are just the pieces of you.” You tell her smiling. She laughs and you love her laugh, you love that you are the one who made her laugh. You can’t hold it back any longer and you kiss her. A long-awaited kiss, that isn’t needy. You know that you both will always have each other now. You pull back putting your foreheads together.

The both of you walked back and went to bed in the comfort in each other’s embrace that night, never spending another night by yourself.

#wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda marvel #wanda #Black Widow #Natasha Romanoff #captain america #steve rogers #thor #marvel #avengers #the avengers #iron man #Tony Stark

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perhapsthanatos · 3 years

Text

10:32 pm with yuta ♡

nct’s yuta x fem!reader (got inspired by a dream of mine & found the idea really cute)

alternate title: be the james dean to my audrey hepburn

genre: fluff. a pinch of angst. non idol au. badboy!yuta au.

word count: 1400~

playlist: chinatown by wild nothing, lover’s rock by tv girl & work this time by king gizzard and the lizard wizard.

warnings: featuring johnny (not a warning though). smoking cigarettes. cursing. lowercase intended. not proofread.

a/n: hi i was supposed to post a vampire!haechan fic but i really wasnt happy w it in general :( the plot or overall idea of the fic was really good, but i just felt as if i didnt do it justice so here we are :( but ngl, i kind of like this concept more? maybe bc i can see it more vividly? idk, i feel like my writings r getting repetitive & its getting on my nerves lmaoo this is getting long im sorry do u guys even read this part anyway? i would also like to apologize abt the amount of projecting im doing lmao ive been having some rough days & i love my sister but hate being compared to her so often so this is a way for me to rant abt it ig? also so sorry its coming out a little later bc i woke up late today (& procrastinated for the rest of it so here i am posting really late at night) & decided to go to the convenience store to get ice cream (& a ton of other bad shit pls dont do this its rlly unhealthy) for breakfast bc i can :) any who, enjoy lovelies <3

“oh my, y/n! you’ve grown up so well! just like your sister!”

“oh! i’m sorry i’ve almost mistaken you for your sister! y/n is your name, correct?”

“y/n, darling, you are looking so dashing! you really do resemble your sister, don’t you?”

“ah, you must be y/n! i’ve heard all about you and your sister from your father!”

you swear that your reddening cheeks are threatening to fall off any moment now from all the fake smiling. the hundreds of superficial compliments, the insincere flattery and the need for these people to constantly compare you to your godforsaken sister makes you feel even weaker than you are. it gets harder and harder to keep up with a big persona that isn’t at all you. as lucky as you are to live such a lavish lifestyle, you can’t help but hate how your family has to be so perfect. you hate how you have never fit in with them, even if you are so good at faking it. you hate how you have always been stuck in your sister’s shadow, constantly haunted with the reminder that you yourself aren’t good enough. you hate how you now have to entertain the rich and brainless guests at your parent’s gala because she’s gone for some stupid prodigy competition and everyone is only talking about her in front of your face. so what if she’s better the better sister? you still have the right to earn respect, right?

you’re exhausted from all the small talk. your facade gets more brittle by the second under all the pressure. your body feels as if it's gonna give out due to your brain shutting down after all that interacting. you try to keep on going with the night as it unravels itself by being the perfectly poised poster child, trying to make your parents proud. but alive yet almost completely devoid, you decide enough was enough. what if you left right now? no one would notice, would they?

after pulling up your phone discreetly to send a few text messages, you pass through lots of people dressed in gold and finery in a way that wouldn’t have you noticed right away. keep your head down and don’t you dare make eye contact with anyone. nearing the end of the room, grabbing the first glass of whatever alcohol you see and downing it in one gulp, you start walking away as quickly as possible from the ballroom. “ignorant privileged fucks,” you angrily whisper to no one in particular, setting the now empty glass on whatever surface and begin to head to the main exit where no one could spot you running away.

“and what do you think you’re doing here, miss?”

a voice interrupts you, looking up you see that it is your father’s head butler; johnny. he is dressed in a simple black suit that makes him appear taller than he is. his long brown hair is slicked back and his bowtie seems brand new. you have known the man since he started working in your household less than ten years back. you were a reckless child, often trying to find ways to sneak out, finding a way to escape from this life and he sympathized with you. after all, he could barely imagine living your life, never catching a break for yourself and always pretending to be someone you weren’t. he often helped planning when you would sneak out into the night, scheduling things like what time you should leave and what time you should be back, more specifically a time when no one would notice. he would take care of your form of transportation and have your location on at all times, just to be extra safe. as much as he wants you to have fun and have a bit of freedom, he still worries that something might happen to you. because of all this, you two have grown to have a very strong bond. you could confidently say that he is most definitely a parental figure in your life since your parents (and even your sister) are often overseas for work.

“what do you think i’m doing? you think i wanna be in a room with those half-baked bipeds? fuck no!”

“i know, i was just joking. you looked like you were about to explode in there, i wish i could help.” he laughs, pulling out his phone preparing what you might need. “so what will it be for today? the driver? we just need to pay him to keep his mouth shut. a taxi? it’s cheaper than paying the driver, but you still need to pay… not like that’s a problem for you though. maybe an uber would be good enough—“

“actually, i got myself covered. thanks.”

his jaw slightly drops and his eyebrows furrow. he looks straight at you in shock. “what do you mean you got yourself covered?”

you look down at your feet, a nervous habit. “i got myself a ride, you don’t need to help me. i’ll be back as soon as dawn comes.”

he raises his eyebrow. “who’s your ride?”

“doesn’t matter,” you glance down at your phone seeing a notification and wave a goodbye, leaving rather suddenly. “i gotta go, i’ll text you when you need to open the gates!”

“y/n! wait! who’s your ride— and she’s gone.” johnny sighs, watching as you run towards the front gates, tossing your stiletto heels away on the grass while you’re at it. he heads back inside, silently hoping you’ll be fine.

knocking the window of the old black mustang parked outside behind the big bushes, the driver rolls down his window and sends the most charming smile.

yuta in his black beanie, long blonde hair, worn out doc martens, signature leather jacket and black skinny jeans. it almost makes you laugh on how he wears the same thing almost everyday but still manages to look so good.

he is most notable for having a big bad boy reputation and you knew that he was the breath of fresh air you needed in your life. a person who can understand having the pressure of having to be or to fulfill your persona. a person you can completely be yourself around. a person who is full of warmth no matter how cold he may seem on the outside.

“get in, princess.”

and that was all you needed. you tiredly walked to the other door and sat yourself in the car. rolling his window back up, he looks at you. you are wearing a simple yet stunning black dress along with silver jewelry adorned on your neck and wrists. your makeup is perfectly done but still struggles to hide the fog in your eyes. he has the sudden urge to clear them away. he softens at the sight of you. no one is perfect, but he finds you being perfect enough without ever having to dress up.

“where to?” he asks as gently as he could. he knows that you are most vulnerable during these moments and that it is hard to finally break down your walls after a day full of stress, so he doesn’t pry immediately. all he wants to do is to keep you here, safe and away from your burdens and for you to stay comfortable with him, even if it couldn't be for long. but is that too selfish of him to ask? he hates how you hate your life and it is taking every bone in his body to not run away with you. but who is he to tell you what to do or what to change anyway? all he can do for now is try to find a way to make you genuinely smile.

“take me anywhere,” you whisper to the latter. “i just want to be as far from myself and my life as possible. miles away or the nearest convenience store, just take the long way home before dawn.”

you look down at the cup holders, spotting an open cigarette box. you tug one out of the nineteen and light it with the lighter you kept in your pocket. you lean back and close your eyes. he only admires as you bring the cigarette to your lips, exhaling a cloud of smoke afterwards. letting the radio play quietly, he starts the car and begins to drive away from the mansion. he can’t help but wonder how you (an elegant daughter) and him (a bad boy) are millions of worlds apart, but more similar than you think.

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jostepherjoestar · 4 years

Note

I remember someone suggesting about the La Squadra child being Abbacchio or Mista’s nephew/niece and I was wondering if it’s ok to ask how would (I’m gonna go with Abbacchio) react to that?. Maybe before joining the kid was just a above average intelligent child but was still normal and now Abbacchio is confused as to why their stoic, cold and with a group of assassins.

La Squadra Kid backstory and relation to Abbacchio + general HC’s

Thank you so much for asking this, I’ve been meaning to summarise their backstory and how they ended up with La Squadra! This will be kind of emotional since it’s bit tragic imo. There’s also going to be some HC’s about our little bud so you can all get a feel at how I see them 😊

Long post!

CW: heavier subjects such as trauma, not fun situations for a kid to be in and usual gang related violence, mentions of abortion and mental illness

General HC’s

I’ve always imagined them to be around 7 to 8 years old, but unfortunately due to all that’s happened, their mind has been forced to mature a lot faster. Of course they should have never had to go through that but life isn’t that simple, especially for them.

Their name is Pomo, like an apple or a pommel :) thought it was a fitting and cute name! I’ll still refer to them as La Squadra Kid in titles but opt for Pomo while writing.

Pomo is not that tall for their age, just cute lil bean with puffy cheeks! I’ve decided to keep Pomo’s pronouns neutral, it just seemed to click more.

As far as their personality goes it’s been fun discovering them through your asks! Pomo is a quiet and stoic kid, they don’t smile that often but that doesn’t mean they’re not enjoying themselves.

They love drawing things as a way to express their feelings or the things they like. It’s a lot easier than verbally communicating for them. They’ll say what they need with the least amount of words necessary.

They’ve developed a weird sense of humour, very dry I’d say lol, also thinks it’s funny to scare Ghiaccio, who they know secretly likes them.

Pomo is quite independent and goes out by themselves, their stand is very powerful and kinda scary, even to their colleagues so they can handle any trouble coming their way. Pomo is slowly learning that they don’t need to do everything alone (i.e. asking for company after nightmares)

Though going out alone can result in people turning Pomo away in shops, that’s why Melone is their choice to bring along so it’s not weird a kid is just out alone spending money.

They’re also very glad to do tasks or things the others ask of them, they crave harmony and peace at home so Pomo will try to help achieve that in any way possible (unfortunately this is a result of trauma).

Pomo really likes La Squadra and sees them as their family now, knowing what member is better at offering different types of things and who to turn to for specific needs.

Their stand’s is named My Way (マイウェイ) after the Frank Sinatra song. It fits quite nicely imo, a force to be reckoned with doing it on their own terms.

And lastly, they do not like hugs or being touched that much. They’ll allow hand holding but only if they’re in a good mood, quick head pats are also ok. It really is touch and go with them, Pomo will let you know when they don’t like something.

Backstory and relation to Abbacchio

The world moved in a blur, the two lines on every single pregnancy test strewn out before her like nails getting hammered into her coffin. Suffocating while it was lowered into the ground, scratching and screaming for air, nails bloodied and raw as the reality set in that she was unmistakably pregnant. The panic followed, clenching her chest like a vice, threatening to shatter her heart and lungs in the process, gasping for air and wishing any other truth than this one. Abbacchio’s older sister wept for days, dark circles alternating with red swollen puffiness as the life she’d just started on her own already began to crumble.

The father of her child taking his exit as soon as she confessed her situation, knowing before she’d even tell him that he’d swiftly let her suffer in the mess. The thought of looking a doctor in the eyes, the cruel conversations she would have to endure before they’d let her suffer in uncertainty of the fate of her unborn child, making her choose to just endure it instead. Not that the choice would offer a softer outcome, it was her burden to bare, she thought. Whatever horrible things she’s done to receive such heartless judgement never occurred to her. The only thing the young woman was convinced of, is that she whole heartedly deserved it.

Her younger brother, growing up to be an impressionable adolescent, unsure how to care for his beloved sibling. His eyes always so full of innocent wonderment at his older sister, wanting to become as brave and independent as her. Living alone, working strenuous hours as if only this would make him worthy of the meagre salary of a rookie police officer. Slowly but surely he saw the woman he so admired creep away as her belly grew larger each month. Coming by often to check up on her wellbeing after school, spending nights or even weeks so he’d be by her side. All the while finishing up in high school. As his sister’s expression grew darker, the smiles fading and her laughter but a distant memory Leone Abbacchio could do nothing but stand by and let her lean on him.

The meagre support their parents could offer did little too ease her mind, the reality of becoming a mother and having nothing but emptiness to offer her child digging her ever deeper into the darkness that consumed her. She sobbed the day her child was born, little Pomo’s big eyes asking her if she was even worthy to hold the small babe. Every look at the child reminding her she had already failed, not even able to comfort their cries before feedings. Incapable of shushing them and finding the strength to coo at those tiny hands that ached to play and accept the warm touch of a caregiver. The young mother did what she needed, feeding the child and changing diapers. The depth of her troubles never easing as she had to go back to work, two different jobs needed to support herself and Pomo.

Abbacchio offered what he could, often babysitting and spending weekends at his sister’s cramped apartment. A child taking care of an even smaller one. The hope he held that his sister would regain her previous lust for life faltered. It only seemed to worsen as Pomo grew. The child never overtly fussed or cried, sleeping soundly and cooing gently whenever hungry. Those big eyes always seeming to bore straight through whoever leaned over the basinet to admire them. The child’s mother wished for it all to end, every night she’d pray to any god who would hear her desperate calls. But as she did only further hurting herself, her pleading like whips claiming penitence on her heavy shoulders.

She begged her younger brother to go out and make his dreams come true. “Never let your resolve falter Leone. Ever.” The voice that brought him courage, the broken woman’s words reminding him of the image he so admired once. But in pursuing his career as an officer it would mean less and less time to care for his dwindling sister and her child.

The night she told him the sisters of their local convent would relieve her of her child, the young officer held his sister for hours. The tears they cried filling an endless well of sorrow. It hadn’t brought the relief she thought she would feel, not a feather lighter as her child would be in more capable hands. Caregivers who weren’t afraid to look the toddler in the eyes as they searched your very soul for meaning. At merely four years old dear Pomo lay gently asleep in a different cot, in a stony building smelling of earth, heated by creaky copper pipes while sisters prayed in unison with beaded necklaces intertwining their palms. Praying for deliverance.

Abbacchio came by whenever he could, becoming more and more weary of his actions and the people he swore to protect as his career started to lack the fervour it had when he started out. Seeing Pomo grow into a silent and demure child, laconically learning to read and write, quietly pleading the sisters not to let their touch on their skin linger. Every stroke burning with an unknown memory that someone once held them, just once and decided to never do it again. Their very skin warding off any unwanted contact without even knowing why. A locked memory with a firm grasp on their being.

“Never let your resolve falter, Pomo. Ever.” The last words spoken to the small child before leaving. The lonely child left in the suffocating confines of the convent. Their uncle wouldn’t return for a long time, days spent hoping to see a sliver of his stark hair and bright eyes that had seemed to dull over time. But the child would never forget those words. Not even as the head sister punished them for not answering when spoken to, not when she would order them to remain on the prayer bench for hours as punishment, knees aching to settle as they were forced to remain. Their eyes boring through the other sisters as they came and joined them at their usual hours of worship.

Restraining the stand they were born with from acting out, self control being trained as they kept going, determined to let their uncle’s last words not be wasted on them. In the free time Pomo was allowed, they’d test out whatever the ghostly figure could, standing taller than them with thick black fog-like tentacles resting behind their back. Whatever those touched seemed to shrivel up like roses in wintertime. Pomo was intelligent, interested in more subjects than just his schooling that only seemed to bore them. The ease of the material offering no challenge as they completed tests with full marks, only making the head sister grow suspicious of them and unleashing more punishment.

Men in extravagant suits would visit the convent every so often, hushed whispers as they walked by the child who’d stoically stare as they passed. They’d always ignore them, scared of the glare and aura the child had started emitting. Many of the sisters had rejected the offer to tutor them when the previous one excused herself, feeling too uneasy by Pomo’s being. It didn’t hurt them, they just kept on doing what the sisters asked of them. Stay tidy, study and don’t get in their way. They had accepted their silence and aversion to touch, growing scared to try anything after the entire courtyard greenery was found shrivelled and dead mid spring. Every freshly planted flower grey and sad, the grass as crunchy as if it had just been burned to ashes. Pomo was sat comfortably on the stone bench that was placed there to admire the garden’s beauty. It wasn’t that they wanted it to happen. Someone just came too close and made them panic, not that it was clear to the sister that accidentally grabbed their shoulders while moving past them, the child remained calm, instead letting their stand take care of the burning sensation that crept over their body.

It was one of those days where a well dressed man would come by and whisper secretively with the sisters as they strode towards a private room and remained there until it was time to leave in an equal hurry. But this time a relaxed gentleman stepped out of the room with a large huff, stretching his neck and groaning loudly as he did. The taps of his heeled shiny shoes echoed through the stony arches of the hallway that led to the courtyard where Pomo had been toying a blade of grass between their fingers. Intensely staring at the green colour that stained his pads while their stand loomed over them freely. As the steps drew nearer, the child paid them no mind, instead grabbing a new blade and continuing the process all over. Soft padded steps made their way over casually until a large shadow covered Pomo. Hands rested in his pocked while his arms pushed back the sides of the loose suit jacket. The cigarette dangling from his lips bobbing after he took another intoxicating drag, puffing out the air harshly while peering at the kid.

“And who might you two be?” The man sunk down to a crouch, inspecting a small daisy that stuck out between the sea of green blades. “Pomo.” The child stopped rolling the tuft of grass as they processed his words. Two. Never had they met another who could see the figure that was their only friend. Unsure if the man posed a threat, he exuded a certain cocky confidence they weren’t sure they liked. “Nice to meet you Pomo. That other one looks a bit scary, don’t you think? But then again, you must be too. D’you mind showing me what they can do?” Offering a gentle chuckle as he gently pried, curious to see what this lonesome child could do, never having witnessed someone so young possessing a stand. It sure peaked the man’s interest as he twirled the daisy between his digits.

The amount of precision they possessed shocked him as the daisy was shot with a quick tap of a foggy black tentacle. It crumbled under his pads as he pressed it, letting it fall back onto the earth. Impressed by the ability and thoroughly interested in what it could do for him, the man proceeded. “Have you even killed someone with that?” There was no need to beat around the bush, that much was obvious when the child never seemed to have moved from their position, merely staring at the ground before them. A slow methodical dark tendril crept towards the man, stopping an inch before his polished shoe. Pomo turned their gaze upwards now, offering a look so unreadably neutral it made the man’s heart beat faster in fear, his many years in Passione not having prepared him to face another that lacked fear as much as the child in front of him. “Do you like it here, Pomo?”

A proposal started taking form in the man’s head, one he’d have to discus with his boss before acting on it. “No.” Clear as a bell their voice made a sinister hope grow, a hope that it would only take as little as just asking them to join up with Passione to get his desired answer. As an Advisor he’d have little hurdles in his way before bringing up the idea to his boss, being one of the only few allowed to even directly communicate with the mysterious man. “You seem fearless, to an unsettling degree, kid. If I asked you to kill a guy, would you?” Somehow the direct communication had been the most pleasant conversation Pomo has had in a few years, be it of a morally ambiguous subject, but refreshing to have another respect their space and not be afraid to ask what they desired of them.

“Are they bad?” The amount of troubling honesty behind the child’s harsh gaze making the man believe he’d met his fate, it had been like Pomo was asking if he deserved to live another moment, their stand still remaining at the tip of his shoe. “Not in their own opinion.” Clearing his throat to regain any sort of confidence, the kid’s eyes skipping through the pages of his soul, weighing his sins and good deeds. In reality they were doing no such thing, only weighing their options, grown tired of the convent and its inhabitants, aching to find any sort of family or support without even knowing it. “Ok.” As they gave their answer they chose to retract their stand, ending the conversation without another word. The Advisor’s sigh of relief deeper than any he had before, glad to be able to continue living.

The Boss was feeling generous, letting his Advisor know that placing the child amongst the men of La Squadra Esecuzioni could serve them well, perhaps make them regain any semblance of respect in the organisation. Opting out of putting their deadly stand in his personal Unità Speciale, fearing the effects of Cioccolata or Secco would build a threat larger than himself. Pomo agreed immediately, knowing it would be best to leave the sisters behind to pray for the child’s deliverance. Making their own money, be it a scanty salary, living with a group of other misfits and taking care of jobs here and there did not sound like the worst future for them. The sisters, terrified at the transfer, having no clue what the mafia would even want with the child, did not let the only person on the outside that cared for them know about the move. Too afraid of the consequences.

But after joining with Bucciarati, Abbacchio held great shame, afraid to face his sister’s child with those eyes that understood too much at such a young age. Fearing any visit would involve them with the tricky business he got entangled in, the little one becoming a distant and painful memory. If only he knew.

Further events take place after part 5 where everyone survives and La Squadra works under Don Giovanna. At Risotto’s request Pomo was left out of the fights regarding Trish and the Bucci gang.

While out with Melone to buy some more markers, Abbacchio felt like he’d seen a ghost. The familiar figure of his sister’s child standing next to a Passione assassin Bruno had fought not that long ago while he excitedly pointed out stuffed animals through the toyshop’s window. “Pomo?” Abbacchio had crept closer, carefully assessing if it were smart to approach. Melone had turned before Pomo could, eyeing the familiar gangster before him. “What do you need with Pomo?” Melone’s features hardened into a scowl while searching for their hand. All Pomo could do was stare up at their uncle they hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.

“What’s going on, is everything alright Pomo?” That deep voice reminding them of when he last visited, the voice that told them to never let their resolve falter, ever. “First of all, answer my question. What do you want with them?” Melone stepped forward, never one to initiate conflicts but needing an explanation as to why Leone Abbacchio knew their teammate that had explicitly never been in contact with his side of Passione. “That’s my sister’s kid. Step down you idiot. I’m not here to start shit. Now answer me; what are they doing with you?” Abbacchio growled back at the lithe man, searching Pomo’s eyes for an answer. “Pomo is part of our team. Been so for almost a year now.” He calmed down as he remembered all the fond memories they’d made together, even after the horrible fights with the other gangster’s team.

The amount of shock and confusion Abbacchio felt was immeasurable. After many “what”’s and “how”’s Melone calmly explained that Pomo had quite the powerful stand and still wanted to be part of their squad. “We ask every once in a while if they still want this. Never said no so far.” Melone practically beamed, the other man still trying to process the explanation. Pomo quickly understood their uncle’s position as well, clearly another member of Passione as they connected the dots. That small kid has never hurt anyone -that he knew of- and now they’re an assassin already in possession of a stand? What the actual fuck. His knees began to feel weak, looking for support as he slid down the toyshop’s windowsill. “I’m sorry.” Hands scrambling at his scalp while he stared at the ground, despair filling every inch of his being. Another person he cared about thrown into the complicated landscape of Passione.

The little one reached out their hand at the man that had meant so much to them, one of the only ones to ever offer the child any semblance of a connection. Until Pomo met their new family. A soft pat on the uncle’s platinum strands, grazing the man’s overworked hands. Melone felt his intrusion, staring off into the crowd as he kept some distance, sure to be within ample reach; should anything happen.

Abbacchio had grown so much, learned that his life was worth living. Following his sisters’s advice to strengthen his resolve and to never let it falter like he did before joining Passione. But this one memory, this one being of the past had made its way back. The child he so lovingly took care of and the pain he felt to have left them behind crashing through him as he sat there. Remembering his capo’s words, his kindness and that look of care and understanding making him reach up to the little hand. Memories of them fussing over touches reminding him a hug wasn’t possible. As his eyes met Pomo’s, the ones that always understood the ones they looked in but never let you know what was being kept behind their own. “I’m sorry for leaving you.” He uttered, the small hand getting enveloped in his bigger ones, begging them for forgiveness. “I’ve missed you.” the child spoke, their expression ever unchanging as Abbacchio felt tears flood his eyes and spill onto his cheeks. The purple haired man that had been following along from a distance couldn’t help but blink away his feelings, pitying the small one.

“Never let your resolve falter.” Pomo repeated. The words they’d clung to, any semblance of purpose all pinned on the only advice they’ve ever received. “Ever.” Abbacchio replied, squeezing the small hand between his before wiping away the tears, his actions were forgiven but not forgotten. “Are you ready, kid?” Melone stepped back into reach, offering a hand to the man he’d called an enemy not too long ago, helping him up. A quick nod from the child, a sliver of relief finally being felt, their uncle was still safe and alive. “You know where to find us. Don’t hesitate to come.” Waving goodbye as they entered the store, Melone offering as much assurance he could muster for his now-colleague. But mostly in awe of the child’s strength, they really were something else, huh.

#cozy ask #worked quite hard on this one #really like the result too #jjba x reader #la squadra x reader #abbacchio x reader #melone x reader #jjba fic #jjba x y/n #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba imagines #leone abbachio x reader #pomo

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themadlostgirl · 4 years

Text

Abandoned (9)

*They’re making progress. Slowly but surely.”

~~~

I was confused when I woke up the next morning because I wasn’t on the beach in my little hut like I always was when I woke up. Then I remembered last night and how I had ended up in this treehouse. Peter was next to me. That wasn’t a big surprise but it eased my worries that he was still with me after yesterday.

A lot had been said last night. Secrets that we had both been harboring pulled into the light of day. I felt lighter now that I had shared with Peter the scars I carried. For so long I had been swimming with a cannonball strapped to my leg as I tried to paddle helplessly to shore. Now, it felt like that cannonball had come unshackled from my ankle and I could finally move forward. I wasn’t to shore yet but I had confidence that I wasn’t going to drown.

I wondered briefly if it felt the same for Peter. Obviously he’s been harboring this secret about his curse for a long time and has been trying to be brave in the face of his own death. This weight that he’s been carrying with him, literally watching his life tick away in a golden hourglass, that’s not something one can take lightly.

There was a small part of me that was kind of relieved to see Peter cry. I don’t like seeing him in tears but just knowing that this boy that I have looked at as indestructible and unflappable was capable of breaking down was a needed reminder that he was human. He may act like a demon but he is still a boy. He has emotions, whether he chooses to acknowledge them or not.

The time following that night in the treehouse stretched peacefully. Peter looked much more relieved to be free of the burden of bearing his secret alone. The only change he did show were the sad looks he passed to me any time we were alone together. I could blink and miss it with how quick they came and went but I still saw them all the same.

He looked at me as if his world was balancing on a frayed string. His hold on me got a little tighter and his words got softer. I figured it was his curse weighing on him but when he pulled away from me one night when things were getting frisky I saw that same sad look in his eyes and realized the truth.

It wasn’t his secret causing him this grief, it was mine. Before when Peter would sometimes allow the moment to heat up between us he doused almost as soon as it begun now. I know that he’s doing it so not to make me uncomfortable but it just made me feel unwanted at the end of the night. One such day we had gone out swimming together by this waterfall. We were having fun splashing around and exchanging a few kisses.

I teased him by sneaking up on him under the water and quickly poking him in the thigh or butt before swimming off. He was getting red in the face and cursed that I kept slipping away faster than he could grab me. Eventually he did catch me and held me tight to his chest to keep me from swimming away again. Laughter and squeals turned into deep kisses and happy giggles. I wrapped my legs around Peter’s waist to help keep myself in place while we made out.

While making out I felt something poke against me. For a few moments Peter was too grounded in his pleasure at the embrace he didn’t notice. Normally when he got an erection he immediately shied away from me and I was waiting for him to do it this time but he hadn’t. As subtly as I could I let myself grind against it a bit and felt a pleasurable jolt ripple up my spine. Peter must have felt it too cause he groaned against my mouth.

I was able to get away with going slowly for a while but when I started moving faster the lustful spell Peter was under broke and he finally fully realized what was going on. I had to keep my legs locked around him so he couldn’t shove me off.

“Peter,” I grabbed his face and forced him to look at me, “It is alright. I want to do this.”

“But--”

“I. Am. Enjoying. This.” I enunciated the words clearly. “You don’t have to be so worried about scaring me off.”

Peter sighed, “I’m sorry, swordfish. I just never wanted to overstep.”

“I’ll let you know if you do. But you need to stop keeping me at an arms distance.” I kissed his cheek, “You said that you would banish that bastard from my memory, right?”

“I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Well, how can you replace all the bad memories he created if you won’t let us create new better ones?”

“You really trust me that much?”

“I trust you even more.”

“I love…” his gaze searched my face, “I love...I love that you trust me so much, swordfish.”

My heart sank a little at his words. I guess I had been hoping he would say something else in that moment. Then again, I don’t know how capable Peter Pan is of something as scary and committed as love.

I shrugged off the moment of disappointment and rested my head on his shoulder. “I trust you with my life, Peter. I always will.”

Peter spent the night sleeping next to me that evening. I cannot say for sure when the word love became something I wished to hear Peter say. Nor do I remember when I started wanting to say it to him. It came upon so gradually that I hadn’t even noticed until it was too late. My heart belonged solely to Peter and it terrified me. I was in love with him and I wanted nothing more than for him to love me too.

Peter was the first to fall asleep. I wasn’t surprised. He said he slept better next to me. I stayed awake listening to him breathe until his snores got deeper and I knew he was fast asleep. “I dreamt that you called me your love the other night. It made me so happy.” I whispered, “I hope that it’s true cause I love you too, my Peter.” I kissed his cheek. It felt good to say it out loud even if he didn’t truly hear me. Maybe it would trickle into his ears and he’d hear it in his dreams. Maybe he would remember and in the morning he would say he loved me too.

I had a dream that night. I was in a town slumped against a wall naked and cold and scared. There was no sign of life. Not from the tavern behind me nor anywhere else in the town. I ran to the pier trying to find a ship to board but all the docks were empty. I searched the sky for the star that could lead me home but clouds covered it.

No way out. Nowhere to run. I wanted to yell for Peter but no words left my mouth. I couldn’t breathe. The world was too cold. Where had Peter gone? Why was I here? Why had I been abandoned again? A pair of arms grabbed me from behind and pulled me into the chest of someone. A gruff voice whispered in my ear, “Kitten…”

I woke with a jolt breathing hard and shaking. When I closed my eyes I was thrust back into the dream and it only made me cry.

“Precious, what’s wrong?” Peter’s groggy morning voice reached out to me like a tether through the darkness. I reached for him and found his waiting arms. He rubbed my back in smooth motions and whispered words of comfort in my ear.

��I was back there,” I cried, “I was back in that town and I couldn’t get out. He found me...he found me and I couldn’t--”

“Hush now,” Peter whispered, pressing reassuring kisses to my temple. “That bastard can’t touch you. You’re on Neverland with me. You’re safe. I’m never gonna let anyone hurt you again, my pearl.”

My breathing evened out but I still clung onto Peter like a vice. Tears silently streamed down my face, unable to stop.

“Hey Lost Girl, are you awake yet? I have bananas if you want one.” A head ducked down to look inside my hut. Baelfire.

The three of us froze. I felt Peter tense next to me.

I could tell he wanted to jump up and grab Baelfire. This boy had been eluding him for so long and now he finally had him within his grasp. All he had to do was let me go. My grip on Peter slackened.

“Go away,” Peter muttered darkly.

I looked up confused. Peter stared daggers at Baelfire. “Don’t be stupid, Baelfire. Leave us.”

Baelfire turned and sprinted away. Peter sighed and pulled me closer. The question I wanted to ask sat waiting on my tongue but I was too stunned to say it. Peter looked at me and rolled his eyes. “Did you think I was gonna leave you, precious?”

I nodded dumbly.

“My pearl,” Peter rested his forehead against mine, “Don’t you know you’re more important than some stupid game?”

Fresh tears sprung to my eyes but they were of a different breed then they had been earlier. I was happy. Why was I crying if I was happy? Peter didn’t leave my side for the rest of the day. That night he felt the moment Baelfire escaped the island but didn’t say anything. He sighed and nuzzled his face more into my neck.

I didn’t ask him why he didn’t seem concerned that Baelfire had escaped considering how much he wanted to capture him in the first place. All I wanted to remember was that when Peter was faced with the choice of capturing Baelfire or staying by to comfort me he chose me. He told me I was more important.

Peter eventually did have to leave to go talk to the boys and tell them that Baelfire had managed to escape. He figured that it was news that would not go over well. He may not be able to see me until late tomorrow evening but if I needed him at all before then all I needed to do was call and he would be there.

It was lonely without Peter but I took the day away from him to go and talk to Tink. I hadn’t seen much of her since my relationship with Peter really started and I had missed talking to her. It would probably be healthy for me to talk to someone other than Peter. I could have pleasant enough chats with the Lost Boys and when Baelfire used to come around but they were all boys. Girls needed girls sometimes.

Tinkerbell was surprised to see but invited me in and talked to me all the same. We agreed we needed to spend more time together and I promised to come see her more often. Peter didn’t mind that I was hanging out with Tink more as my time with her gave him time to rally with the boys. The upside was that now that Peter and I were spending most of the day apart that meant that he almost always spent the night with me. Once evening fell Peter was all mine and I was all his. I preferred it that way.

It had been several weeks since Baelfire had escaped. Life on the island was as normal as it had ever been. Then one night Peter’s shadow returned. I hadn’t even noticed that the shadow was ferrying someone when I saw it shoot across the sky. The shadow was dark and the person it carried was pale. They almost looked like a shooting star streaking across the sky before they got closer and I was able to make out the shape of a human. It flew above me into the jungle before I could get a good look.

Peter also watched it go but shrugged it off saying he would make his greetings in the morning. Strangely enough though when morning came the boys had no news of a new boy in the island. No one had even seen the shadow drop someone off. Perhaps they were lost in the jungle. The boys scattered the island but came up with nothing. Whoever the shadow had brought they had disappeared into thin air.

This was more than alarming to Peter who didn’t like the idea that someone was loose on his island that he didn’t know. His days were spent with the boys as they combed the island again and again trying to find the escapee. I checked Baelfire’s old camp to see if the new guy had hunkered down there but it was as abandoned as the day Baelfire left it.

I went to visit Tink and told her about the strange happenings going on in the jungle.

“That is strange.” Tink shrugged, “And the boys have no idea where this person could be or even what they look like?”

“Not a clue. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it, would you?” I asked.

“Can’t say I do. All the Lost Boys look alike to me so if there is a new one running around I couldn’t say that I could recognize them.”

“The boys are all in a tizzy about it. This boy is really good at hide and seek and it is starting to piss Peter off to no end that he can’t figure out where they’re hiding. Understandable since it is his island and all.”

I set my cup of tea down and paced around the treehouse. “I mean, they have checked every nook and cranny of this island. Where in the world could they be?”

I plunked down on top of Tink’s big treasure chest.

“Eep!”

“What was that?” I asked, looking around the treehouse. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Tink said.

“I swear I heard something. Almost sounded like a wounded bird or something.” I strained my ears to see if I could hear it again. Tink had frozen in her seat. Her eyes were cast down into her cup.

I narrowed my gaze at her. Why was she acting skittish? I stood up and noticed her gaze flicker to the chest I had been sitting on. Hm…

I turned to the chest and lightly kicked the side of it. “Hey Tink,” I spoke calmly, “What is it you keep in his old chest of yours?”

“Just a bunch of junk. Some blankets, extra set of clothes, a few useless odds and ends.” She shrugged. “Nothing of interest.”

“Uh huh,” I reached for the lid, “You wouldn’t mind if I snooped would you?”

“I would actually,” She said, her eyes met mine, “It may be junk but it is personal junk.”

“All the more reason I want to take a peek.” I pulled the lid up.

“Don’t!” Tink jumped to her feet.

“Oh Tinkerbell, Tinkerbell, Tinkerbell,” I ripped the blanket away to reveal our hidden guest nestled tightly at the bottom of the chest. “I thought we were better friends than this.”

“Listen,” Tink tried to pull me away, “You don’t have to do this. She hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“That’s your opinion.” I reached into the chest and pulled the figure in her white nightgown up to standing. “Hello again, Wendy Darling. You shouldn’t have come back here.”

“I’m here to rescue Baelfire!” Wendy ripped her arms from my grasp. “And I am not leaving without him!”

“Oh, did Tink not tell you?” I laughed, “Oh you poor, pretty thing. Baelfire escaped the island weeks ago. He’s not here.”

“No…” Wendy breathed out in horror, “No! You’re lying!”

“I am? Fine. Then let’s ask someone else. Oh Tinkerbell, is Baelfire still on Neverland? Be honest now.”

Tink met Wendy’s eyes with regret. She nodded. “He isn’t on Neverland. He managed to escape a long time ago.”

“Oh god…” Wendy was shaking, “If Baelfire isn’t here then--”

“Then you walked back into the open jaws of a lion voluntarily, Darling.” I pinched her cheeks. “No use trying to run or hide now. So how about you come quietly? I’m sure Peter would love to see you again.”

“Please, just send me home, I know you don’t like me. You don’t want me here. Just send me away again.”

“No. That’s too easy. Besides, I have no reason to be jealous or angry at you anymore. You’re just a blemish on my life now. Annoying but tolerable if I can’t see you.” I shoved her towards the rope ladder. “Now move.”

I brought Wendy back to the camp. She was silent the entire time. Resigned to whatever fate awaited her. Easy enough to say, the boys were surprised when I walked in with her. Peter most of all. He had truly not expected to see Wendy Darling again after he sent her away the first time.

“What to do, what to do?” Peter circled her. “My Lost Girl was right about not sending you home. That’s what you want. I cannot have you roaming about as you did before though. Ideas?”

“Just stuff her in a cage and be over with it.” Felix said. “What else is there to think about?”

“Too easy.” Peter said, “We need something unique for this equally interesting happenstance.”

“I have an idea!” I bounced on my heels as an idea started to take root in my mind.

“Speak it, spitfire. I’m interested in what you have to say about this.” Peter grinned, pulling me close to him.

“Well, if she wants to go home so bad then I saw we give her the opportunity.” I said.

“This isn’t the same scenario you proposed I do with Baelfire is it?” Peter asked, disdain clear on his face.

“Oh no, nothing like that.” I pulled him aside so Wendy couldn’t hear. “She will be our very own Sisyphus.”

“What?”

“It’s an old tale I remember hearing about. Sisyphus was some man that was cursed in the afterlife to constantly push a boulder up a hill. He was told that if he could push the boulder to the top of the hill then he could go free. But no matter what, every time he gets near the top the boulder rolls back down dooming him for eternity. We could do something similar with Wendy.”

“Stars you are perfect.” Peter grabbed me and kissed me hungrily. “What impossible task were you thinking?”

“Something simple enough to give her hope but maddening enough that she’ll never accomplish it. Like a jigsaw puzzle.”

“A puzzle?”

“A puzzle with a million different pieces that never actually seem to fit together. Tell her that if she can solve the puzzle then she can go home. If she doesn’t complete the puzzle within the day though it will reset and she’ll be forced to start all over again. It’ll keep her busy and out of the way until you have need of her.”

“I love that devious little mind of yours.” Peter kissed me once more. We strolled back over to the bound Wendy as Peter explained his terms. A spark of hope flickered in Wendy’s eyes and she readily agreed. She was taken to the Echo Caves to stay and Peter conjured the puzzle. I nabbed a piece and stuffed it in my pocket. A personal assurance that even if she somehow did ever get close she would never have an actual chance of completing it.

---

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#peter pan ouat #ouat peter pan #ouat #neverland #peter pan imagine #peter pan x reader

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flooffybits · 4 years

Text

Carry On

Idol: Handong (Dreamcatcher)

You were once forced to continue with the absence of one member. Now the girls are once again forced to face the same predicament.

Warning: angst and character death

Seeing the amount of people that were commenting on their performance, Minji sucked in a deep breath while she gripped the microphone tightly in her hands. “Hi everyone.” Her voice, although loud, carried the weight of the news that they were carrying for the past week.

“I know you’re all concerned. We had to perform as seven before, and now we have to do it again.” Her voice cracks at the end of her sentence and she sees Gahyeon from the corner of her eyes, head cast down and fighting back tears while Yubin held her by the shoulders. Yoohyeon is beside Handong, gripping her hand while the other was used to wipe the tears that managed to escape her eyes.

Bora and Siyeon stand on either side of her, both with somber expressions on their faces and she can tell that if they tried talking, they would be no different from her.

But she was the leader and she had to do this.

“Y/n is... she will no longer be present.” She paused, feeling the lump forming in her throat while Siyeon gently squeezed her arm. “We told you that the concert was delayed due to personal reasons.”

Bora squeezed her friend’s hand before deciding to take over, knowing that Minji was not able to properly speak out on her own. “The concert was supposed to be canceled, but at Y/n’s request, we pulled through.” She breathed out while lightly dabbing at the corner of her eyes. “We were all fighting for something we weren’t sure we could win but in the end...”

“Our Y/n has been battling cancer for two years and, four days ago, it seemed that she’s finally taken a break.” She finally admits and it hurt so much more to say it out loud.

The rest of the girls were doing their best to hold back from crying, but the moment the screen behind them popped up, they had to brace themselves with the video you had prepared before your departure.

“Hello!”

Seeing your smiling face had caused majority of them to break down into tears. Yoohyeon held Handong close to her and rubbed her back as she felt her tears falling on her neck.

“I really hoped it wouldn’t come to this.” You say with a light smile. They could see you in the hospital, but even with that, you looked as free as always despite how thin and pale you’ve gotten.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen our InSomnia’s, but I’m incredibly happy to see even some of you during our performance for the Drive-in, and that I was able to perform with all of Dreamcatcher.” You say with a content look on your face.

They could see you looking somewhere off camera and they wonder if this was shot during one of their visits.

“I know that a lot of you have been disappointed with how badly my performances have been, and I admit, that was my fault. I was hoping that I could show you all the best performance I could give.” You can’t help but sigh regretfully before shaking your head and pulling the smile back on your face.

“I know that this may be sad news for you, but please, never let this be a reason to lose your smile or happiness. You’ve shown us love and support from the very beginning, and all I ask is that you continue to give Dreamcatcher that same amount of love even in my absence.”

Your eyes shift again and your smile becomes a bit softer before you’re speaking again. “Jiu unnie, Sua unnie, Siyeon unnie, Dong unnie, Yoohyeon, Dami, Gahyeon, I’m sorry for having to leave you so soon like this, but I hope you know how much I love and cherish each of you. Being a part of Dreamcatcher has to be one of the best gifts I’ve ever received and everyday I thank the universe for blessing me with seven wonderful girls as my members, my friends, and my family.” A lone tear falls down your cheek and you quickly wipe it away.

“Keep aiming high and keep fighting. I know you can do it.” You finally say before waving your hand. “This is Dreamcatcher’s Y/n. ‘Til we meet again!”

When the screen goes blank, the rest of your members are back in their line, all of them wiping their tears away, though Handong and Gahyeon were covering their faces after getting to see the whole video you’ve left for them.

“Y/n never stopped fighting. Even when people were being mean to her, she always told us ‘it’s okay, they don’t know. Just forgive them’.” Siyeon spoke up despite her trembling voice. “She didn’t want us to focus on the bad things people said.”

“Remember what Boca is about, she would tell us.” Yubin said while she tried to blink away tears, but just this once, she couldn’t seem to stop them from falling. “Y/n unnie has always been very thoughtful. She’s caring to those around her and I think that was what made her so unique. It didn’t matter who you were because she’s able to ease herself into your life without issue and makes things seem lighter.”

“Unnie is-” Gahyeon tried to say something, but she struggled to get words out without sobbing. “She’s one of a kind and I don’t think there will ever be anyone who can replace her.” She managed out, failing to keep her own tears at bay.

“Y/n has been keeping everyone together. She knows when someone is feeling down and she won’t hesitate to be a shoulder to lean on or a listening ear. She acted as though she was our personal therapist sometimes.” Bora shared with a little smile when she recalls the few times you decided to stay up with her when she wasn’t feeling her best.

“It worried me when she would do that. I didn’t want her to take all the burden to herself and we sat down to talk. I think that was the first time we really saw Y/n cry. She told us she was used to comforting others, but never the other way around.” Minji explained as she shifted her microphone to her other hand. “Y/n has been a joy to the people she’s come across and I know that there’s no forgetting someone like her.”

“Unnie always says she wants to leave a mark in people’s lives. She said it was her dream to inspire others.” Yoohyeon said in a small voice. “I think my only regret would be... not telling her that she was able to achieve that dream.” She says while shutting her eyes. “Everywhere we went, people remembered her and called out her name. She’s met thousands of people and I’ve seen some people online leaving comments about her, sharing stories from when she was still in school or those she befriended in her hometown.”

“Her patience was so long and I don’t know how she could stand all of us, but when I saw the good things people said about her, it was no doubt in my mind that unnie really was Dreamcatcher’s angel.”

There was a bit of laughter to lighten up the mood, but when Yoohyeon turned to the person next to her, she gave her a small squeeze as an act of encouragement, telling her that it was going to be alright.

“Even though Y/n said she would no longer be part of Dreamcatcher, I don’t believe it. For me, we will always be an eight member group and she’ll always be there as long as our memories together last. Dreamcatcher won’t be here without all of us and I think that’s what we have to keep in mind. Y/n wanted all of us to keep fighting, and I’ll be sure to do my best to keep her dream alive.” Handong managed to say while looking at the camera and the rest of the girls smiled at her.

When the concert wraps up, the girls are all consoled by their staff, their managers, and even the director as they thanked everyone for helping them make the event and for looking after them throughout their career.

Many have expressed their condolences and reached out to the girls for your passing, and their families have sent yours messages as soon as they found out.

Your parents were able to fly all the way to South Korea, deciding that it would be best to have you buried there just so you would still be close with your members and all the people who were close to you. Since they believed that it may have been something you would want, they had no troubles coming to the decision.

The director of HappyFace also decided that it was appropriate to give everyone a much needed break after finally letting the news out and the girls were all able to rest and absorb everything that happened.

“Can I come in?” Handong looked at the door to see Yubin poking her head through the door and then beckoned the younger girl inside. “You haven’t left the room today and we were hoping that you weren’t shutting yourself out.” The rapper explained as she took a seat and Handong sighed softly while shaking her head.

“You know I wouldn’t do that.” She muttered as her hand gently ran over the letter you had left for her. Yubin took a quick glance at it and hugged the older woman. “Are you still upset?” She asks softly and Handong pats the top of her head while staring at your familiar handwriting.

“At first, I was. None of you told me when I should have been there for her. It took her passing out in front of me for you all to finally say that she was sick.” She mumbled before she placed the letter on one of her pillows.

She could remember the night well. After your first performance since her return, she saw your body slumped up against the wall and your manager assisting you just to bring you back to your waiting area.

“She was so stubborn.” She said with a laugh, tears building in her eyes as she recalled what you told her as soon as she found out.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” The blue haired woman demanded when you were finally left alone with all of your members and they had explained to her what happened in her absence.

You gave her a slight shake of your head, smiling despite the pain that had washed over you. “I know that I won’t be able to stick around long enough so I wanted to at least perform as a complete group one last time.” You rasped out and Handong felt her tears finally break free while shaking her head and gripping your hand.

“Don’t say that. You’re going to be fine!” But the smile you showed her was proof enough that you were telling the truth. Minji explaining what the doctor told them during your last check up only further proved that you would not be reaching winter.

But they didn’t think you would be gone so soon.

“I know you’re upset, but don’t blame the others. They only found out a couple months after you left and I begged them not to tell you because I knew you would come back home.” You reason. “I couldn’t take away your opportunity of reaching your dreams.”

“Even then, she thought of you.” Yubin mumbled and Handong nodded her head. “But she was right. If you had told me while I was in China, I would have dropped out of the competition.” She admits while thinking back on everything.

“Still, I wish I had noticed sooner. I was worried because every time we were on call, she looked thinner and I thought she hadn’t been taking care of herself.” She tells the younger woman and Yubin nodded in agreement. “It was hard keeping it a secret from you. We wanted to tell you, but Jiu unnie reminded us to respect Y/n unnie’s decision.”

“I appreciate that you were all there for her. I know I couldn’t physically be there, but it’s assuring to know that she wasn’t alone.”

“In the end, you were still there for her when she needed you the most. I think that was all that mattered to her.” Handong nodded her head while inhaling deeply. “She’s okay now, she doesn’t have to be in pain and no one is going to hurt her.”

Right after their short break, the girls pushed through with finishing the third part of Dystopia. Your message to each of them had been their source of motivation and the girls were driven in showing you that they would be okay, even if you weren’t physically there.

Day and night, the practices went on. They recorded the songs and rehearsed them again and again, each girl participating in all parts may it be the songs or the choreography. Yoohyeon had even given her own suggestions during the filming of the music videos.

January of 2021, HappyFace was able to announce the group’s comeback and all seven of them were feeling both excitement and anxiety as they waited for the video to finally drop up until promotions rolled in.

Being nominated once more for winning an award, all of them did their best, having each performance full with more energy than the last with you in mind. While they weren’t too confident with winning, they were more focused on sending out their message that they are heard and that they are here to stay despite all the downs.

“And the winner is...” Watching as the numbers flashed on screen, everyone watched with bated breaths before they finally stopped and their picture popped on screen while confetti exploded everywhere. “Congratulations to Dreamcatcher!”

Hearing the announcement was a shock to all of them and they looked to one another, slowly becoming teary eyed as Minji shakily accepted the trophy and microphone. Turning her head, she saw all of her members in tears, all overwhelmed by finally achieving the one constant wish you’ve all been holding on to.

“Thank you so much. We...” It looked like none of them were capable of saying anything, each girl holding on to one another as Minji tried to compose herself. “We’re very thankful to our staff, our director, our InSomnias and our family. Thank you for your never ending support.” She sobbed out before looking back to her friends. “Most of all, we would like to thank our shining star for being our reason for pushing forward and for believing in all of us.”

“Y/n-ah, we finally did it!” Handong said into the mic, smiling despite her tears as all of them huddled together, taking one another’s hand while setting the trophy by their feet and then bowing deeply.

In the space between Handong and Siyeon, they made sure to leave a bit open where you could most definitely fit despite their locked hands and various other artists who watched the display and even fans could feel their own eyes fill with tears.

#girl group #girl group scenarios #girl group imagines #dreamcatcher #dreamcatcher scenarios #dreamcatcher imagines #dreamcatcher jiu #dreamcatcher sua #Dreamcatcher siyeon #dreamcatcher handong #dreamcatcher yoohyeon #dreamcatcher dami #dreamcatcher gahyeon #handong #handong dreamcatcher #handong scenarios #handong imagines

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justjessame · 3 years

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Glorious, Before the Burden - Loki ~ To Ease Her Burden

Seeing Sigyn looking unsure - from the first moment he arrived within the dark walls of He Who Remains’ domain - learning that he was her real father, and realizing that their child was no more - Loki felt as if the ground was quaking beneath his feet.

More so than when he watched Odin greet death as a long lost friend - fading as easily into it as one might go to sleep. Even harder to comprehend than when Hela first appeared, looking more like Loki’s Asgardian appearance - something he still hadn’t taken time to unpack and work through - than the rest of his adopted family. Being stranded on Sakaar with the Grandmaster, Thor, Valkyrie, AND Hulk paled in comparison - even coming face to face once more with Thanos after watching Asgard fall - being forced to attempt the grandest illusion he’d ever tried was nothing when compared to seeing her face - the look of despair that she fought to hide from him.

Holding her, feeling her warmth in his arms and knowing she was alive and safe - it gave him something he thought he’d lost, something he knew they’d both need to keep going - hope. And having her in his arms, knowing that she lived that she was alive and safe within his reach again, gave him so much more - it made it easier to push past the stabbing pain of loss to press forward. Sigyn was his focus. He had to keep her calm and ease her tension, to put her first and to reassure her that if they only had one another in the madness that existed in the fallout of Hela’s return and Thanos’ reckoning - then they had everything they needed. At least for now.

Learning that they’d be living their life together on earth was a blow, he could admit that. After what he’d done, after the havoc he’d caused, being forced to live out his existence among those who he’d thought to rule under his boot wasn’t something he’d have chosen willingly - he could see the uncertainty in her gaze when he was told, the worry that he would bulk at the idea. Agreeing came easier, soothing her worry, her fears, being there for Sigyn like she’d always been there for him - suddenly Loki knew his purpose, knew what his new glorious purpose truly was - being for Sigyn what she had always been for him - for all of them really.

What Kang had shown him, when he held out his hand - it bore not recalling or revisiting - the loss of their child was raw enough, the loss of their home, of their people, of his brother and of the life they’d build was blow swift enough to render him breathless - but to see what could have been - to witness the loss of, but he wouldn’t do it, he wouldn’t even consider it. Thanos was something he’d never allow Sigyn to come near, never allow her to breathe in the same sulfur tinged air that that beast drew breath within - so agreeing to anything her father asked came as naturally as breathing.

Holding onto her, for he swore to himself he’d never allow her out of his grasp again, the darkness took them - yet this time, there wasn’t the fear, the strangeness didn’t cut into him. For he could feel her warmth and that allowed him to breathe, even as the air seemed to grow dense and all sound left. As long as they were together, nothing could topple him again. Nothing.

Waking up in a foreign bed, bare skinned and pressed against her body, it took some time to recall everything that had brought him and them to where they were. It came, and he could feel the tension creeping into her body as she woke - and it made it his objective to return her peace. Even if it meant facing their grief and loss head first - the loss of a child that both of them had come to love before even seeing his face cut them both to the quick, but he had to make her see that had he lost BOTH of them, what life would he have left to face?

Holding her and reminding her how much she meant to him, while admitting that he did feel the loss of their little one as deeply as she did - was a razor’s edge, but he walked it. Sigyn would make a wonderful mother and he did want to be a father, but without her - without his wife, he couldn’t fathom an attempt with another.

“Every child I dream of,” he whispered, holding her as she sobbed silently into his chest, “looks like you.” They did, each and every baby he dreamed of holding, was a miniature of her. They bore such little resemblance to him that he wondered if he played any part at all in their creation, but they were dream children, after all.

While he would have gladly spent days in their new bed, he knew that their life could not go forward if they didn’t at least attempt to play the parts their new life commanded of them. Loki mirrored her outfit, a darker sweater and jeans, feeling self conscience when she bit her lip, but then shaking his head when the blush darkened her cheeks -

“I think you fancy this get up,” he murmured and she giggled. A sound he yearned to hear repeated. Far better than the heartbreaking sound of her sobbing.

He toured the cottage, finding it cozy and simple. Comfortable and very Sigyn. She watched him and he knew she was waiting for him to find fault, but he couldn’t. Not when everywhere he looked he saw hints of his wife - tiny bits and bobs that others might shrug off, but to him screamed her name. When he finally admitted that they would have to go shopping for food and provisions, she finally told him the truth of what might give him away to the locals and that led to him handing her the shears - he honestly thought she’d balk harder. He’d forgotten how much she liked to flirt with danger.

Shorter hair, lighter all around - Midgardian Loki. Scratch that - Thomas Williams. And hopefully a new start with Sigyn would give her peace. Give them both peace. With what they lost, and remind them of what they still had. Each other.

#loki #loki x sigyn #Loki's POV #loki series #alternate universe #miscarriage #angst #fluff

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wlntrsldler · 4 years

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unrequited (draco malfoy/ cedric diggory series)

PROMPT: You and Cedric grew up together. After the tragedy of the Triwizard Tournament, you’re left feeling empty without your best friend. Draco Malfoy steps into the picture. Will the feelings be reciprocated? Or will it be unrequited?

WARNINGS: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, angst, fluff, sadness???

PAIRING: draco malfoy x reader and cedric diggory x reader; hufflepuff reader

WC: 2K+

UNREQUITED MASTERLIST

UNREQUITED PLAYLISTS (SEND ME SONGS!)

PART 14

The sun was peeking through the half-drawn curtains. The rays of sunshine that managed to sneak past created a soft, golden hue in the room. Dust danced around, looking almost like glitter when light hit them in the right angle. Everything else was frozen. Time seemed to stop and had it not been for the blood pumping through your veins, that you were now more aware of than ever, and the beating of Draco’s heart against your ear as you laid on his chest, you would've thought that this was it. The silence, deafening and eerie, the stray hairs tickling the skin of his forehead, the weight that he’s been carrying for days, finally off his chest- Draco knew that this was it.

But just as quickly as the night rolled over into day, he was reminded that you were still there, awake, alive, and living the nightmare of a life he tried to dream away more times than he would care to admit. Tangled within the fibers of the white sheets were the remnants of your previous evening. Last night, time seemed to move fast, faster than the both of you would’ve liked. It was the adrenaline that coursed through your bodies, afraid of the sound of chaos behind the door he locked so hastily as if it would shield you from the dangers of the other side. He stole you away from the crowd, clutching your hand in his like you were a lifeline. He didn’t care who saw him, not last night. This urgency carried on between you for the rest of the night and only now that the sun has acquainted itself with you did the traces of your hurried involvement free themselves from the heat of your bodies.

Draco’s fingers traced the outline of your spine, touch falling lighter and lighter as he reached the curve of your back. His breathing was ragged, as if he was biting back his words, not ready to break the bubble of silence you’ve grown comfortable in. He knew after last night, he would lose you for good. He knew he had to lose you. Once you step out of the confinement of the four walls, there’s no telling who will survive the wrath of reality. Draco hoped that it would be you- that if there was a choice between who lives and who dies, it would be you to continue on life without him. He didn’t know if he’d be able to live without you.

He spent the night in denial, choosing to talk about anything else but the truth. He laughed obnoxiously loud as you recited fond memories from your years at Hogwarts. The stories almost seemed childish despite it being only a few months ago, but you had to grow up fast. Now, the life you lived a mere year ago seemed like a whole lifetime ago. You danced in the glow of the moonlight, using the creaking of the floorboards from underneath your bare feet as the music that guided you. Draco twirled you around, catching you before you stumbled out of his grasp. He murmured declarations of his undying love in the shell of your ear once he felt you perfectly still in his arms. Then he fell asleep, tangled in your arms right before the sun interrupted your perfect farewell.

Draco watched as he shivered under the sting of his touch. He hummed in response, tugging softly at your fingers to pull you closer. He closed his eyes, leaning into the crown of your head to drink in your scent, another thing he hoped he’d never forget. He spent the night trying to ingrain everything about you in his memories. He burned the image of you grinning up at him, a shadow cast upon your face from the candle that was burning in the corner of the room, as you spoke with your feather-light voice.

Draco’s eyes inspected your features under this new light, lips twitching upwards when new details came to surface. The freckles by the corners of your eyes were visible, speckles of brown and beige littered all over your cheeks, but not daring to go past below the start of your cupid’s bow. You had strawberry lips, red all throughout, overly bitten and cracked, but soft, nonetheless. The mellowest shade of pink dusted your cheeks, reaching the very tip of your curved nose. You looked like you were dipped in gold, like fresh honey, and you looked nearly ethereal. Your skin was smooth like velvet and he wanted nothing else but to cover himself with how you made him feel. Comfort.

When Draco opened his eyes, he found you already staring at him, a hint of evergreen in your irises, something he never noticed before. His breath got caught in his throat, forgetting how to speak for a second when his heart rattled in his ribcage. After all this time, you still managed to make him weak in the knees with just one look. You reached up to cup his jaw in your palm, sighing in content when he nudged his face deeper into it. You could read him like a book but not once did you take advantage of that. At first it scared him, vulnerability and weakness was a foreign concept to him, never having anyone in his life to assure him that it was okay. You stared into his soul and was faced by the twice broken man that he was. He expected you to desert him, as everyone else had in the past, but you didn’t. You held his hands in yours and kissed his bruised knuckles.

The faint noise of the outside world began to grow louder. The once silent castle soon started to become the place that it’s meant to be: a school where you were divided by house, by good or evil, lurking in the shadows of the building. People were waking and preparing for what’s to come. You shut your eyes tightly, wanting to block out the incessant shuffling of feet past his door.

“Not yet,” you whispered. “Please, not yet.”

He leaned over and placed a kiss to your forehead, lips lingering there longer than usual. He knew that once you got up from his bed, he would have to tell you it’s over. He wasn’t ready to be over. In a broken breath, Draco replied, “We can take our time.”

You saw that he was afraid but he wanted to keep his facade of false bravado to keep you at bay. Draco didn’t want you to worry more than you needed to, especially not over him, but of course he was afraid. He wasn’t afraid of the impending war and the task that could most likely take his life. No, he was afraid that this love and the moments he was lucky enough to share with you, is all he’s ever going to get in this lifetime. He’s never been cared for like this before- not in the way that you did: forgiving and unconditional. You cared for him without asking for anything in return and cared for him with the certainty that it won’t waver even through the hardest times. He was sure of this, up until he signed up for his task. Now, Draco wondered if you could ever forgive him after you find out what he’s done.

No, you wouldn’t, he decided, but I’d rather have her hate me and stay alive than have them hurt her.

He knew he was being selfish. He knew it wasn’t fair of him to think about wanting to spend more time with the girl who laid on his chest right now over the well-being of everyone else who will be fighting with him and against him. This war could take the life of everyone he’s ever cared about but all he could selfishly think of was you. More time with you, that’s all he craved. Draco wanted to feel this way for the rest of his life. Now that he’s experienced it, he doesn’t ever want to let it go. He was a touch starved man, yearning for a feeling- anything- that would allow him to continue to live. Draco won’t let himself revert back to the man that he once was afraid that he’ll be forgetting the man that he became because of love, and ultimately forgetting what it felt like to be love. It was his biggest fear- to not remember what this love was like, to not remember how it felt to love you.

“We can’t do this anymore, Y/N,” Draco said, eyes not able to meet yours. It’s the morning after his first day back from Malfoy Manor, burdened with the task he now signed himself up for. Draco couldn’t bear to look at you, in fear that he’ll tell you what he’s done.

You pulled back a bit, shaking your head in confusion, “W-what are you talking about, Draco?”

“I have to end this, for the both of us.”

You suddenly felt so exposed. You lifted the blanket up to cover yourself, now aware of the cold air circulating the room. Goosebumps emerged on your bare skin, covering your arms and legs that untangled themselves from Draco’s. You gulped, hauling the blanket up with yourself as you paced around the room, trying to look for your discarded clothing.

You were ashamed and embarrassed as you slipped on your clothes and house robe, sniffling quietly as he began to do the same, getting ready for the tough day ahead of him. You stopped in your tracks, breath caught in your throat as the truth daunted you. You looked back at him, fully aware that your cheeks were stained with tears. You whispered, “This is what you wanted wasn’t it?”

Draco looked at you, heartbreaking at the sight of you looking so vulnerable and afraid, “What?”

“This-” you motioned between the two of you. You pulled down your shirt to show off your love bites, “you just wanted this right? You just wanted to fuck me.”

Draco grimaced when he heard those words leave your lips. No, of course not. I love you. This was never about sex. I’m so in love with you. I’m doing this to protect you so they won’t touch you because I will never forgive myself if something happened to you, he wanted to say.

But he remained silent. It was better this way. You should hate him so you won’t ask questions about why he’s doing this.

You scoffed, throat burning when the realization hit you. You wiped your cheeks hastily before stomping out of his room, slamming his door with no care in the world. Slytherin students turned their heads at the sound of it, shooting you confused looks as you marched out of Slytherin territory with your Hufflepuff robe.

Draco broke down in his dorm room once he heard your hurried footsteps withering away. He buried his face into his hands, unable to calm his breathing. He wanted nothing else but to chase after you and tell you how much he loved you, how he wanted nothing else but to protect you. He’s in love with you. It was never just about sex, Merlin, with you it would never be about sex. You made him feel seen. Feel cared for. Feel loved. Even if you didn’t love him back, he knew he still would not trade you for anything in the world. He knew that if he had to spend the rest of his life making you fall for him, he would spend every second of every day doing exactly that.

But he knew that when it comes to you, he couldn’t be selfish. He loved you too much to get hurt. This was the only thing that held him back from running after you and kissing your fears away. He needed to protect you. They can’t touch you, not if he has something to say about it.

So he let you go. But you took a part of him with you.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! SEND AN ASK!

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#harry potter fanfic #harry potter #harry potter series #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy series #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x yn #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory x yn #cedric diggory imagine #cedric diggory series #cedric diggory fanfic #frances writes #unrequited fic #ron weasley #hermione granger

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