#what is making a mixtape!! asking if they remembered their meds!!!

[bogkeep]

thank you big joel and if books could kill podcast for digging into the five love languages. truly one of those concepts that are like Yeah Sounds About Right because of course people feel loved and love in different ways!!! but then it turns out it comes from a book written by a fundamentalist priest guy and it's like OK SO HE JUST MADE THOSE CATEGORIES UP HUH.

[moonlit-han]

stray kids’ reactions to you taking medication for depression & anxiety ↠ all members

genre: reaction word count: 2.4k warnings: discussion of depression and anxiety, description of panic/anxiety attack, swearing request: yes

a/n: hi anon! wow, this one turned highly personal really fast. so, this turned into a combination of your original request and how stray kids would react just knowing that you have depression/anxiety. i think how they’d care for and support you is a large part of their reactions to finding out, if that makes sense. i hope this brings you comfort~

✧ masterlist in bio ✧

bang chan

as with most things, chan would be very understanding

he’d just want you to feel and function the best you could

and not have to worry about whether you’re going to be able to make it through a day

he’d noticed when you first started dating that you occasionally withdrew into yourself

and needed time alone

chan didn’t really think anything of it 

bc he also kinda just turns into a hermit and hides to reset and recuperate

but when you’d told him that you take meds for anxiety and depression

his sneaking suspicion that you’d been struggling with something was confirmed

it all made sense!

chan would be immediately and absolutely on board to support you

he wasn’t gonna let those nasty depression demons get the better of his y/n

no! fucking!! way!!! ＼＼\٩(๑`^´๑)۶//／／

when you could stand it, he’d be really cute and cuddly to try to make you feel better

and he’d also research everything about the meds

on the days that you just needed to be left alone, he’d be worried 

bc he wouldn’t want you to be lonely or to need him and for him to not be there immediately for you

but sometimes even just the presence of another person is exhausting

even if it’s your partner

he’d always come back with flowers or your favorite kind of pie or curry or something else delicious or beautiful

all he wants is for you to feel like you can face the world

bc he’ll always be there by your side (♡‿♡)

lee minho

minho would be matter of fact and accepting about the whole thing

he wouldn’t be fussed

and would just accept that sometimes you’d be less than cheerful

and that it has nothing to do with him or his actions

while he wouldn’t necessarily understand the ins and outs of depression and/or anxiety,

he would still be totally committed to supporting you

he’d be glad that you have meds

because it’s hard for him to see you so down and feeling so blank

he just wants you to be okay

he’ll ask if you’re okay and what he can do

sometimes he just has to ask you a few times

just to be sure

for his own peace of mind

if any family, friends, coworkers, anyone gave you shit about your depression and anxiety

minho would be the kind of person to just:

Σ(☉‿☉✿)Σ(☉‿☉✿)Σ(☉‿☉✿) “hold my flower”and prepare to fight the world for you

alkjfhakjfdhkj

minho would always make sure that you have your meds on time

either going to pick them up from the pharmacy for you

or reminding you to get them yourself

he’d also remind you to take the meds on your especially bad days

when you can’t exactly think or do much else

while he jokes that cats are the best medicine for anything

minho knows and agrees that medication for mental illness and such is important

bc it helps you be able to function

but that doesn’t stop him from trying his best to make you feel energized and focused through other means!

you have a weekly picnic date, even after dating for two years

it’s the sweetest thing ever

and definitely helps (≧◡≦)

seo changbin

it was the first time you slept over at his place

(a really lovely evening with lots of sweet cuddling ｡ﾟ(ﾟ∩´﹏`∩ﾟ)ﾟ｡  )

(((oh no now i’m soft HHHH)))

and you’d left your bag sitting out in the living room

changbin had thought it would be nice if he got your things for you in the morning

and he also wanted to make you breakfast (✿◠‿◠)

so he'd gone to pick up your bag and saw the little pill bottle

and was just “oh, okay~”

when he'd come into the bedroom, changbin looked a little nervous?

bc he wasn’t quite sure how to ask you what meds you were taking

he wasn’t really worried or anything

he just wanted to support you with absolutely no judgement because meds aren’t a bad thing~

he was so understanding and immediately, like chan, researched everything he could about helping someone with anxiety and depression

and then made you breakfast bc that’s wonderful anytime at all

on the days you felt like you couldn’t get out of bed

(or simply couldn’t whether you wanted to or not)

changbin would be there

if you could stay in bed the whole day, then he’d stay with you

if you had to get up and actually do things, he’d do his best to help you

he’d make you food, help you shower, even pick out clothes for you so that you wouldn’t have to think

he’d understand that sometimes you need a bit of a prod to do things

changbin would definitely try his best to make those reminders as caring and lighthearted as possible

after all, you don’t exactly have control over when lack of motivation strikes

changbin would understand and know a lot of the feelings you have

and be able to empathize based on his own experiences

really, he would just continue to love you ♡

hwang hyunjin

hyunjin, oh sweet hyunjin

he’d be so understanding

and would feel really sorry for you

but not in a weird, pitying way

just sad that your brain had decided to betray you in such a way

*insert all the empathy here*

he knows all too well the feelings of hopelessness you sometimes feel

he’d be glad that you have meds, actually

and would even remind you when you have therapy (if you do)

he’d probably send you random “when you have anxiety/depression” memes

you’ve busted out laughing at inopportune times more than once from said memes

when you’re in a depressive episode, hyunjin would be like a cat

just curled up with you as much as possible

if you can’t stand to have someone near you

then, he’d still text you cheesy stuff like those ridiculous valentine’s day pickup lines that are, in fact, funny at any time of the year

oh and don’t forget about the utterly sincere, will-make-you-cry texts, love letters, post-it notes, notes written in blueberries on the counter, and even signs he’d write for you

one day, you’d even opened a lunch he’d made you to find a little note rolled up around your fork:

“hi hello yes you, the pretty one reading this! i love youuuuuu~ have a wonderful day, darling

p.s. remember to take your meds <3”

hyunjin’s gentle nature would be just what you needed

to support you

to love you

to care for you, not only emotionally but also physically

he’d be like a sheltering tree for you

grounded and calm with deep roots, but able to bend with whatever wind your depression/anxiety decided to gust through your lives

han jisung

jisung would…

well, jisung would just:

“AAAAAY, ANXIETY BUDDIES!!” (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ;;;;;;

ajkdfhaljkfghaljf

definitely not the response you’d been expecting

but it was perfect nonetheless

you spent an afternoon together just talking about how your anxiety and depression manifested

what helped you to cope

what helped him to cope

which meds you took and if there was anything jisung should be particularly aware of

he’d be really interested in just how your depression and anxiety manifest

bc in order to care for you and help

he wants to know what bit of your brain chemistry has decided to fuck shit up

(sometimes jisung feels like he needs to fuck shit up, too. but really? come oooon y/n’s brain)

he’d leave you notes reminding you to do things when your ability to focus goes completely out the window

you’d wake up to find one of those large sheets of poster paper taped to the ceiling above your bed, saying:

“i love you, even if you have depression/anxiety that makes you forget to do the dishes. again. you’re still my little gremlin <3”

jisung would give you any and all resources he has to help you

he’d probably even write songs for you

there’d probably a mixtape out there somewhere of him screaming at your depression and anxiety

telling them to leave you the fuck alone

bc you’re too wonderful to have to deal with that shit

your weekends together would be spent in the bedroom

under the covers

giggling your asses off

and cuddling

bc it’s dangerous outside the blanket  ( ｀^´ )

lee felix

felix would be so chill about it

you’d tell him and he’d just be like

“okay! so what kinds of toppings did you want me to put on this pizza again?”

you’d just kinda blink at him

you’d been worrying about what he’d say

and if he’d leave you or something

(thanks, irrational brain. love you. NOT! ffs)

as if lee felix would ever leave you,,,,,,

it was a relief not to worry about that

felix would still bundle you up in the biggest hugs ever

and smile his sunshine-filled smile at you

honestly, that alone should be enough to cure depression

but, unfortunately, it’s not

((*shakes fist at depression/anxiety*))

but with felix’s smile and meds, you’re feeling much better, thank you

felix would try to make life brighter for you after finding out

he’d understand that sometimes you want to do things but just can’t

there’s no rhyme nor reason to it

and it wouldn’t matter to him

bc he’d still get to spend time with you, even if it just meant sitting on the couch watching movies

felix would know that sometimes he would just have to make decisions for you

not in a controlling way

but just because your anxiety over making decisions and following through with things would get the better of you

he’d make sure you drink water and eat lots of yummy food

his deep voice is the most calming thing oh my god

and whenever you have an anxiety/panic attack

felix would immediately catch you up in his arms and slow dance with you through the entire episode

even if you’re barely able to stand, he’d hold you up and support you

just so, at an incredibly scary time, you’d have the most loving arms around you

kim seungmin

you were having a panic attack when seungmin came over one time

and you’d just kinda slumped against the wall as soon as he’d come in the door

aaaand you’d had to explain what was going on

but seungmin had just helped you breathe deeply

and eventually you’d calmed down to the point that you felt like

well, like a limp noodle (＠_＠)

you know that feeling when your body is so exhausted from having a panic attack

that you can’t exactly do much else?

yeah. that.

so, he would be glad that you have meds for your depression/anxiety

like jisung, seungmin would want to have A Stern Conversation with your depression/anxiety

bc he’s tired of its shit ψ(｀-´ )ψ

not because he can’t deal with it or you

no

because he hates to see you in so much distress

also,,,,,,

no one should have to feel like there’s no joy left in the world, irrational thinking rules their brain, and like they’re trapped in a cycle of dysfunction, no matter how hard they try

bc sometimes just trying isn’t enough

and seungmin understands that~

sometimes you just need a little outside help

he’d come up with all sorts of things he could do for you to help ease your anxiety

he’d write down all your triggers just so he’d know what avoid

or what to tell other people to avoid alkdfjhakljdfh

bc we all know seungmin is that person (-_-;)・・・

when he found out that you have trouble deciding on food at restaurants

he’d immediately printed out the menus to all the restaurants you loved

just so you could take your time deciding at home

and not feel overwhelmed

aksjfhlskfjdh what a good bean

seungmin is just a sweetie who wants the best for you, really

plus, when you’re feeling better….

the two of you can go on adventures!! (⌒▽⌒)

yang jeongin

jeongin would be a little baffled that someone’s brain could be that cruel to them

“you mean you sometimes just can’t be happy?”

“yep, or function, really. sometimes moving or getting out of bed or eating just isn’t a thing”

‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚

“don’t worry about. i’m on meds for it so it’s not as bad”

(◕︵◕);;;;

“jeongin i promise it’s okay…..”

“HHHHHHHHHH”

you just ended up cuddling him and explaining how depression and anxiety worked

(or rather, how fucking annoying and, even, debilitating they are)

that made him happier bc he understood

he’d try to help you do things that help with the depression

like going for walks

or drinking enough water

definitely regulating your sleep

jeongin: “i know, i know, y/n! it’s hard but you haaaave to wake up”

y/n: “mmph” (￢_￢)

jeongin: *lightly swats you with a pillow* “get! up!!”

y/n: *grumpgrumpgrump*

nights are even harder alkjhsjkslkfjhs

jeongin, on the phone: “no you’re not being a night owl tonight. no! y/n~~~~ come on, i’m tired and wanna go to sleep”

y/n: “but i’m not tired!! i’m just gonna play one more round of this and then go to bed. i promise!”

jeongin, not having any of your shit: “uhuh….”

y/n, *sweats*: “i promiiiiiiiiise”

…………………

3 am

jeongin, via email: “this is an automated reminder to  G O  T O  S L E E P”

y/n: “shit.”

he’d want to be there to listen to you whenever you needed him

even though he doesn’t have much experience with this sort of thing

jeongin would do his best as a kind and properly aware person

like everyone else, he just wants you to be okay

[vintagedolan]

mixtape | track ten

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

Indiana’s mental health class was in her first semester in the pre-med program. Abnormal Psychology, PSY 249, in a stuffy room in a building on the far side of campus. She’d hated it. College was supposed to be challenging, her program was supposed to be the most rigorous, and yet the class was a breeze. They went through condition after condition - depression, PTSD, anxiety, schizophrenia. The inner workings of the brain, the chemical imbalances, the medications that would help people come back to themselves. She passed the class with a 101%, stowed the knowledge in a seperate folder in her brain for safe keeping, and moved on at the end of the course. But she kept one piece of paper out, one piece of knowledge that didn’t make sense.

Voluntary Emotional Detachment. It was a relatively new idea in the world of psychology, seeing that many of its characteristics could fall under depression. That wasn’t what confused Indy. No, that came when her professor lectured on the voluntary portion. 

“Emotional Detachment is a useful tool sometimes, when it’s used purposefully. For example, if you have a toxic family member in your life, you may voluntarily emotionally detach yourself from them. It’s a defense mechanism, especially during times of trauma. You’ll find yourself numb, unable to feel even if you wanted to. It happens with loss sometimes as well, where you can’t feel the gravity of what you’re losing. Your mind knows what it can withstand, and sometimes, it pulls back. It shields you from the cruel world we live in. It protects.”

Indy had scoffed in her seat, so loud that her professor looked at her and frowned, which was enough to have her blushing red and keeping her head down as she scribbled notes for the rest of the class.

It was the one time she’d ever been reprimanded by an academic authority. Professor Upton pulled her aside before she could escape out of the lecture hall doors. 

“Ms. Cross. You seem like a bright girl, but I don’t appreciate the disrespect.”

“I’m very sorry professor, it won’t happen again.” Indiana had practically stumbled over the words to get them out, her palms sweaty on her backpack strap as she held it on her shoulder.

Indy had a million explanations, but she knew that her professor didn’t care to hear them. And they were lies anyway. The true reason she’d scoffed was something she didn’t want to share.

It was because her professor had made it seem so easy, to just turn it off. Emotionally pull the plug, to sever your ties to someone.

She’d scoffed because if her brain had the capability, and it hadn’t moved to protect her when her mother died, shielded her from the aftermath of unimaginable pain that she’d endured, she wasn’t so sure that she was at all intelligent after all. 

But she understood why now. 

It was because her mother dying had made sense.

Not in the grand scheme of things. Not in a karma driven universe - there was no justifying losing a light as bright as Nicole Cross in a world that had checks and balances, a world that cared. 

But physically, it had made sense. 

Nicole’s cancer started in her pancreas. Stage III when they found it. 13.3% survival rate. And it spread like wildfire. Indiana threw herself into her books, looked for anything, some medical breakthrough that someone had missed. She looked into drug trials, she looked into synthetic pancreas research. All the while, her mother’s cancer took over cell by cell, multiplied and multiplied the way cells are built to. And when it reached her brain, it took over her brainstem. 

When it got to that point, Indiana heard the four words that she would never forget.

“She’s done. We’re done.”

They had echoed out, bouncing off the bleached linoleum, making a cold room even colder. Her father’s voice had never sounded so unfamiliar, and she was glad that her mother was sedated when she broke down. There was no detachment, only raw, searing pain unlike anything she had ever experienced. She sunk to the floor, ragged sobs finally breaking free when she realized what she’d known was coming was finally happening.

The fight was over. It was time to let go. 

Charlie hadn’t cried. No, Charlie stood still as stone in the corner of the room, eyes unblinking as she stared at the shell of her mother in her hospital bed and willed it to be a dream, a nightmare that she would finally wake up from. 

And then, she remembered where she was. She remembered who she was. And she picked her little sister up off the floor and held her in her arms, like she always had when Indiana was hurting.

 Without the vital cues from that little piece of Nicole’s brain telling them to, her heart stopped beating and her lungs stopped asking for air, and she died. 

And it made sense.

This didn’t make sense. His words made no sense.

There was no one to hold Indiana Cross now, and she had a new set of four words that would haunt her.

“I can’t do this.”

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

Six days. Grayson’s thoughts ate him alive for six whole days. He lived through the odd limbo that the world seemed to find itself in on the days between Christmas and New Years. A pause in the spin on the axis, a time to reflect on everything the year had brought, and what the next one had to offer.

Even in his daze, Grayson could only remember one other December he’d tried to hold onto so hard. 

His father’s face was at the forefront of his mind, but not the images that he wanted to see. All he saw was a look of disappointment in his eyes with each hour that Grayson’s lips stayed pressed together while Indiana rested, oblivious in his arms. He towed the selfish line of wanting to enjoy the last days he had with her while his guilt threatened to drown him with every breath he dared to take. He hid it well, as he always did when he really needed to. They had their date nights, with movies and postmates since he still didn’t want her out in public with him. They stayed in the tiny house again to enjoy nature, snuck into Jet’s a few times. He smiled when he was supposed to, went through the motions that were expected of him. It had worked for him before, for videos, for time with friends when all he wanted to do was sit in his room and speak to no one. The only person he could never fool was Ethan, who kept his distance, but stayed close enough to keep his eyes on him. He thought he had everyone but his twin fooled.

But Indiana noticed. Indiana always noticed. 

Nicole had called it the curse of intelligence when she was younger. 

“Sometimes,” she’d said. “When you know too much about how the world works, how people work, you see things you aren’t supposed to. You understand things you aren’t supposed to.”

Indiana was 12 at the time, sitting on the other side of the kitchen table. 

“What do you mean mom? How can you know too much?”

“You’ll know one day. You’ll see.”

The way she’d said it made Indy sit her fork down, her stomach suddenly tight. 

And now she’d seen.

On New Years Eve, Indiana Cross leaned in to kiss her boyfriend as the clock struck midnight, on her couch in her apartment, with her picture frames on the shelf over their heads and the sound of fireworks outside her window.

Grayson didn’t lean in. 

He leaned back, and he spoke.

“I can’t do this.” 

Indiana took a breath. In. Out. Filled her lungs and emptied them again.

She’d noticed. But she hadn’t let herself believe it. She’d pushed every little nuance she’d seen, every time that Grayson’s eyes didn’t catch the smile he tried to put on his face the last few days- she’d pushed it to the back of her mind and justified it. He was just worried about leaving, he was just stressed about Bekah like she was, he was just tired. She’d seen every sign and she’d justified it. 

She swallowed air, her throat painfully dry.

“What?”

“I can’t do this, I’m sorry.”

Indiana did what she always did, what she’d always done her entire life when anything didn’t make sense, when anything went slightly off track. 

She tried to understand why. 

She racked her brain for everything that she’d done, every syllable she’d spoken, and every movement she’d made since that first day at Frazier outside, with him in his green pants on the bench, and her with two Jet’s coffee’s in her hands. 

Her fingers were cold as she pressed her hands together. There was a finality in his tone that had her chest tight, her ribs pressed together, muscles pushing on bones and squeezing everything until she felt like she was going to suffocate. She opened her mouth. 

“Oh.”

Grayson had his head in his hands, leaned over his knees on the couch. He shook in an unfamiliar way, like he was choking, and it took Indy a moment to realize that he was crying. 

She felt like she was in a dream, watching what was happening to her from the outside. It was like slow motion as she watched the girl on the couch curl in on herself, her walls reconstructing at ten times speed - he’d been so gentle with each brick that she didn’t even realize they’d been taken down. He spoke after a moment of heavy silence.

“I love you, but we can’t. I can’t do this to you.”

Her brain refused to process it, refused to even try to dissect it, and she spoke the only word she seemed to be able to find.

“Oh.”

“Indy I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I should have said something sooner, I wanted to, I’m an asshole for waiting this long.”

She swallowed and wrung her hands together.

“When is your flight?”

His tears streamed faster somehow as he blinked.

“Tomorrow afternoon. We have meetings on the 2nd.”

In. Out.

“What time?”

Grayson looked up. Indiana was sitting straight up, head up high. The only thing moving were her hands, which she kept squeezing together over and over. It scared him, to see his once bubbly girl so still while his tears continued to fall. He couldn’t read her. 

“I’m not sure, I’d have to check. Dee, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

She smiled her hospital smile, the one she used when she got bad news, and it was somehow worse than if she’d yelled at him.

“Indy.”

“It’s okay. C’mere, it’s okay.”

She opened up her arms for him, and she didn’t even seem to notice that they were shaking ever so slightly.

Grayson’s eyes were too blurry to see the quiver. He was fighting himself again, wagering whether sinking into her arms would only cause more damage in the long run. But he knew how it felt to be there, and he wagered that it would be worth whatever hellish guilt it was sure to bring later. So he leaned in, and just a single touch from her had him sobbing again. He pressed his face into her shoulder with so much force that she fell backwards a bit, and suddenly they were intertwined with him above her on the couch.

His pain was physical. She could feel it, in the way his body shook and paused when he tried to suck in a breath that his lungs desperately needed, the wet hot air soaking through her shirt with every exhale he choked out. His tears were warm, the salt already stiffening the fabric that soaked them up. Her hands found his back, and she lifted a finger to his skin before she paused. 

She didn’t know what to write anymore.

Instead, she moved her hand to his hair, scratching at his scalp, holding him steady. He was heavy against her and she closed her eyes, felt him there with her, took in the weight of him. 

“Shhhh. It’s okay.” We’re okay. “You’re okay.”

Her words only made Grayson cry harder when he realized what she was doing. He came back to himself for a moment when he realized that all the shaking wasn’t him. He could feel the way she held onto him and shook, so subtle that he could tell she was fighting it. His stomach churned at the thought of how bad her pain must be if it was causing a reaction in her body, and he moved to push himself up.

“Indy.”

She clung to him, panic breaking through the protective numbness that had taken hold so quickly. If it was the last time she was going to get to hold him, she’d hoped it would have lasted just a bit longer. 

But she took a deep breath and she let him go, forced her arms to release him.

It hurt worse to see his face again, see the pain in his puffy eyes. She reached back out for him, swiped her thumb across his cheek to catch a tear. Her fingers got distracted in the feeling of his scruff, and she scratched over it for a moment, indulging herself, willing herself to remember the way it felt on her fingertips.

“It’s okay.” It was a reflex to her, and she couldn’t stop herself from saying it.

“It’s not though. Indy, it’s not okay. I’m hurting you.”

She didn’t have a response to that. Her eyes fell to her lap, picking at her fingernails. 

“I’ll be okay.” It was a lie, but she would have said anything to bring some of the light back to his eyes. Her pain she could manage, but his was her breaking point.

“Please don’t do that. Please don’t pretend on this.” He brought in a shaky breath, blowing it out quickly.  

In. Out.

“What do you want me to do?” 

“I want you to scream. I want you to be pissed at me, I want you to be mad that I waited this long to tell you! You haven’t even asked why,” he cried. Indy wondered for a moment why it always hurt more to see boys cry. It seemed to be more painful for them somehow - heavier. 

“I think I know why.” 

He sat up a bit more at her words. Waiting.

“It was a chance thing, you being here. Us meeting. Your life is entirely different than mine, and you have your people in LA. There’s… I mean there’s plenty of girls there who don’t have the stuff I have. Class, work -” Her voice cracked at the end, Grayson’s outline blurring just a bit as she looked up.

“No. No no no, hey,” he stopped her, hands hovering over her for a moment before he gave in and rested them on her arms, holding her without fully pulling her in. “It’s not that. I promise you, it has nothing to do with anyone else. I want you, I don’t want anyone else. But I know you, and your dreams are here, and I’m not gonna take that away from you.”

Indiana’s confusion only grew. She’d only heard one thing he’d said.

“You want me?” Her voice sounded pitiful, even to own ears. 

“Of course I do.” He spoke it like it was the only possible truth, and a flicker of hope rose in her gut, fighting it’s way up. “Indy of course I do.” 

“Then… why?” 

“Remember when we went to LA?”

His words brought back a flood of memories. The two of them kissing in the ocean, the secret beach, sleeping in his bed with his green wall, piggyback rides around the house, the late night Cudi drives.

“Yeah.”

“You remember how much you hated it there? How bad you wanted to come back home? And what did I promise you?”

Indy couldn’t find her voice. Her brain was otherwise occupied, watching her memories being drug through dark ink, staining them. 

“I promised you I would never ask you to leave New York.” He finished it for her. “And I meant it. But I can’t stay here Indiana, no matter how bad I want to.”

“Your life is in LA.” She repeated her words from earlier, monotone and unattached. Her heart fought with her, begged her to tell him everything. Tell him that she was going to start working at Jets and start therapy so she could fly out to see him. Tell him that she was halfway through her UCLA application essay that she’d been working on on nights he fell asleep before her. Tell him that she’d drop everything and follow him anywhere. 

“You’re the most giving person I’ve ever met. You give so much to everyone but yourself. But I’m not letting you give up your life for anyone, especially not me.”

She wanted to be mad that he assumed that she would. But there was an understanding, a sadness in his eyes that reminded her that he knew her better than she had ever realized. 

“We could make it work.”

He looked like he wanted to believe her. 

“You deserve someone who is here for you.”

“You’re here for me.” Her mouth was starting to outrun her mind, a dangerous game that she usually couldn’t stop once it had begun.

“You deserve someone who is here to celebrate your accomplishments every day, not someone in a different time zone on the other side of the country.”

“We could make it work.” It was more of a plea that time, and she saw it register across his face, the pain it caused him. 

“Indy.” 

“People do long distance all the time, we could do it.”

“We aren’t long distance people,” he said, but Indy’s mind was already running.

“We could set up a facetime schedule, and you wouldn’t have to visit that much, I’ll be busy with school anyways. And if we hate it, then we can stop. We just have to try, we’re never gonna know unless we try it.” 

Grayson was silent for a minute, which was enough of an answer. He’d known this was coming. Ethan had warned him that it would happen, that Indiana would try to reason her way through it. He’d told his brother that he had to be confident in his choice or he’d get swayed off course.

Grayson wasn’t sure he’d even be confident in his choice to remove himself from the best person he’d ever known. But knowing that in the long run it would be better for her was the only thing that let him cling to the last bit of resolve he had. 

“Indy.”

Her lip quivered, and he felt his heart crack. 

“Please,” she said.

“C’mere. Just c’mere.”

It wasn’t a surrender, but an offering of comfort. Indy knew it would hurt her later, but she didn’t have the willpower to resist it. She crawled into his lap, and the last of the numbness that had started faded away. In his familiar arms, she lost her last semblance of control.

She crumpled into his shoulder, broken sobs shaking her frame as she clung to him, let him hold her as she wrapped herself around him, as if it would somehow make him stay. 

He rocked her as she sobbed, accidentally pressing a kiss to her shoulder before he realized what he was doing. It was torture in the rawest form, worse than he could have expected to be the cause of her pain. 

“I’m so sorry Indy, I’m so sorry,” he whispered to her over and over, hoping she believed him. She pressed her face against his neck to keep her eyes closed, pretending for a moment that everything was fine.

“I love you.” 

The tears returned to his eyes, and in a moment of weakness he turned and pressed a kiss to her hair, her temple. His lips had missed her. 

“I love you too Indiana Cross.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again.

Her finger traced against his back. F-O-R-E-V-E-R. She wished she could erase it somehow when his breath caught in his throat again. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and he shook his head.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” His voice was muffled by her skin, seeing that he was unwilling to lean back from her.

“I know this is hurting you too,” she said, and was met with the feeling of more of his tears on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“The only thing you did was make me love you too much. Don’t be sorry for that.”

The way her heart squeezed wasn’t natural, and though she knew the phenomenon wasn’t as everyone said, she was sure it skipped a beat in her chest. She squeezed him tighter to her, like she had so many times. She synced her breathing to his, laid her head on his shoulder, committed the sound of his heartbeat to memory. 

Their tears dried out over the next hour, the numbness of acceptance starting to blanket over them. Neither of them dared to move a muscle, Grayson especially. All he did was rub his hand over her back, up and down the same as he had been since she climbed into his lap. They both knew that moving would mean having to figure out what to do next. 

It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. Indy wasn’t sure, and she was scared to look at a clock, to see her fleeting time left with him wasting away.

“Did you pack your bag already?” Her voice was too loud even though it was barely above a whisper, pulling them back into the reality they wanted to avoid.

“Yeah. It’s at home.” 

Indy could see it in her head, his Jersey room, quiet and waiting for him with his orange duffle on the bed. But her stomach filled with a wave of nausea as she realized what it meant.

“So you have to go home.” 

Grayson’s hand paused on her back. She was holding her breath.

“I… I didn’t know if you would want me to stay.” It was the first time he could remember not knowing what to say to her. 

Her arms tightened around him, her breathing getting a little bit more ragged. He ran his hands over her back quickly, desperate to soothe her.

“Shh, shh hey, I’m staying. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yet.” She whispered, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he flinched. “Sorry, that was harsh.”

“Not undeserved,” he said, turning and resting his cheek against her shoulder. “I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have. So whatever you need, I’ll give it to you.”

Indy sat up. Her eyes had settled a bit, her tears washing the jellyfish blue into a shade of navy that Grayson didn’t recognize. It made his breath catch in his chest. 

“Whatever I need?”

“Whatever you need.” 

She looked at him, and her head tilted to the side just slightly. A small smile tried to make its way to her face, but her lips quivered. 

“Could you kiss me?” 

He paused, watching her fight off her tears with a deep breath. 

“Is that what you need?” 

“Just… just one. I didn’t know, you know. That the last one was gonna be the last one. And we’re here, and I just thought, that maybe - ” 

He kissed her. For the first time, he was hesitant. He kept his hands to his sides, not wanting to push anything too far, not wanting to make anything worse somehow. Indy barely reacted either, too nervous to do something wrong. 

They pulled back from each other, breathing shallow, nerves taking over as they tried to figure out what to do. 

“Thank you,” Indiana said. 

Grayson swallowed hard, watched her eyes as they flickered between his own. 

And then they were kissing. Really kissing, chasing the taste of each other like air at the end of a sprint. His hands went to her face, holding her to him as her hands went to his torso, bunched up his shirt and tried to pull him into her, closer somehow despite the fact that they were already touching everywhere that they could be. The desperation was palpable, in the way their hands roamed and fell back into their familiar patterns. Indy sucked in the first real breath she’d taken in since the clock had struck midnight, breathed him in as best she could, trying to lose herself in him like she always had. But her mind wouldn’t shut off, reminding her that it could really be the last time she had him like this. 

He felt her tears, first on his thumb that was holding her cheek, and then against his own skin. It took all his willpower to pull back from her lips. She let him, her breathing shaky as she tucked her face back down into his neck.

He picked her up effortlessly, standing up from the couch and moving them to her room. The Cudi vinyls seemed to mock him, especially when he laid down and stared up at them on their small shelves. Indy didn’t move an inch, staying wrapped around him, laying on top of him when he rested back against the pillows. 

Time moved quickly, and Indy still avoided the clocks, scared to see what had already passed. 

Grayson wanted to hear her voice. Wanted her to talk to him, wanted to commit every single thing she said to memory, but he wouldn’t ask. She had given him enough. 

He closed his eyes, focused on the feeling of her fingers over his shirt, tried to make out what shapes she was drawing like he always did. He felt her hands travel up higher, up his neck to his skin, scratching over his beard.

Her fingertips were gentle as they moved up, over his lips, around his cheek to his eyelids, down over his nose, then to the other side of his face. She traced the pattern a few times, and Grayson waited until she was on his nose to speak.

“What’re you drawing?”

“You,” she said. “Memorizing.”

He didn’t know how he still had more tears to make, but they started to fall anyways, down the side of his face over his temples. 

“I’m sorry,” was all he could say.

“I know. I wish you could stay just a little bit longer.” 

“Me too.”

He traced a heart on the back of her arm.

“I love you too.”

The truth of it was, she didn’t know how to not love him, and that was the scary part of it all. She couldn’t imagine a world where she didn’t love him with everything she had in her. 

She didn’t know who she was without it anymore.

“If you ever change your mind, I’ll be here you know,” she said. He took in a deep breath, pressing a kiss to her hair. 

“I’m not gonna do that.”

Her heart sank.

“That’s not fair,” he said. “I can’t ask you to do that, to wait for me. I’m not going to string you along, that’s cruel. Once I’m back in LA, I want you to move on.”

Indy shook her head against him, burying her face in his chest. 

“No.”

“Indy.”

“No.” Her brain refused to process it, to imagine a single scenario where she felt anything good without Grayson by her side. She knew it wasn’t healthy, and she vowed to never tell anyone but in that moment, she reserved herself to be miserable every minute that she wasn’t with him. 

“I know it’s not gonna be easy, but you deserve to be happy. And I’m sorry that I’m gonna make that harder, but you’ll find somebody who can love you better than I do.”

“Does that mean you’re going to just move on when you get back to LA? Just forget about me?” There was a spite in her voice that she didn’t like hearing in her own voice. But Grayson didn’t flinch. It was almost reliving to him. He was getting what he deserved, what he’d earned for breaking her heart. 

Her anger meant she cared.

“Indiana I’m never going to forget you. If you think I could, I was an even worse boyfriend than I thought.”

“No, don’t do that.” She pushed off his chest and sat up. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to make me think that the last three months were bad. That’s the last thing I have to hold onto. Those were the best months of my life, you don’t get to take that.” 

Grayson didn’t have an answer. 

“Okay.”

“You made this decision for the both of us, I don’t get a say in it. So I’ll hold onto it as long as I fucking want to. You don’t get to tell me I have to move on.”

“Okay.” 

“Okay then,” Indy said, reaching up to wipe a tear away. She sucked in a breath and pushed it out through shaky lips, trying to hold herself together.

“Sorry.”

Grayson shook his head. “Indiana you can be mad at me. You should be mad at me.”

“I am mad at you.” 

She knew it wasn’t in the way that he meant. Because she wasn’t mad that he’d broken up with her. Because deep down, under all the pain and all the love and all the worry, she knew he was doing it for her. He was doing what she would never have the guts to do, even if it was the right thing.

No, she was mad at him for infiltrating every single part of her. Every thought, every muscle, every cell of her body contained him. Every hope she had for her future was molded around him. He was there in everything. His curls were in the dreams she had about her future children. His smile in the back of her mind every time she closed her eyes. His eyes, bright and green, always there.

“Do you want me to leave?” There was no malice in his tone, only genuine concern. 

She pondered it for a moment. Thought about what it would look like, for him to actually walk out the door and never come back through it.

“No.” 

“Okay. Then I’ll stay.”

“I can drive you to the airport. So Ethan doesn’t have to come into the city.”

“Okay. I’ll tell him.”

“Okay.” 

They stared at each other for a moment, staying very still, waiting for one of them to make a decision. 

“We should probably sleep.” Grayson checked his watch. “It’s 4am.”

“Okay.”

Another pause. Another moment of uncertainty that they’d never had to navigate.

“Do you want me to take the couch?”

She shook her head, and with a sigh, she gave in. Grayson could finally breathe again when she settled against him, pushing her hand up under his shirt, running her fingers over his ribs. He wrapped her up in his arms tightly, focused on the feeling of the weight of her on him.

And he closed his eyes. 

His alarm went off at 9:45. As soon as it sounded, Indy turned her face into his chest, a new wave of tears coming forward as the realization hit her

It was time to let go.

He just held her and kissed her head for as long as he could. She didn’t know if she’d slept. If she had, it was only for a few moments. She’d kept waking up, reminding herself that he was still there. 

They barely spoke. No one ate breakfast. He hadn’t brought a change of clothes, and parts of his shirt were stiff from the saltwater of both their tears. It took all the strength he had to keep it together when he closed the apartment door behind him for the last time. 

She took his hand in the elevator, and his tears fell, making his cheeks even colder when they walked outside. It felt odd, for him to climb into the passenger seat with her in the driver’s as they continued down the road. His mind was flooded with memories, with doubts. He couldn’t stop picturing the smile that would spread across her face if he told her that he’d changed his mind, that they could try. 

He fought it, kept his mouth shut, reminded himself that this was his decision and he had to deal with the repercussion of it. 

Indy was quiet too, evidence of her earlier decision to not hurt him anymore than she already had. She didn’t want to make it any harder on either of them. No matter what, she still loved him, and she didn’t like to see him hurting. She kept herself superficially distracted, focused on the colors of the cars that passed, and the number of the exits on the highway. 

The airport had never come quicker.

Grayson’s chest tightened when they pulled off. He couldn’t ignore it anymore, couldn’t push it down and stay strong like his dad had always told him to. An image of him hugging her goodbye over her console came to his mind, and he panicked.

“Would you want to come in? Like park and come in? I know you hate airports, and you can say no. But… I’d like to give you one last good hug before I go.” 

She merged into the lane that led to the parking as her tears began to fall. He ran his thumb over her hand until they got out. They found each other again behind the car, Indy linking her arm around his and holding on as tight as she could as they walked. She was ten times more anxious than the last time she had walked into an airport, her usual pertifying fear of Grayson being on a plane the least painful part. 

It was hard to keep her sobs quiet but she bit them back as best she could. Grayson heard them, shifted so he had his arms wrapped around her as they walked. Her eyes were blurry with tears but she noticed the bright yellow and orange bags before she spotted Ethan. He gave her a sad smile that she did her best to return. From the look of pity in his eyes, it was even worse than she thought. 

Her vision was obscured by Grayson, who moved in front of her. She clung to the front of his jacket with both hands, unable to look him in the eyes. She didn’t know if she could handle it. 

“I don’t want you to go,” she whispered, tears so full that they dripped off her chin and onto her shirt. 

“I’m so sorry.” His own eyes burned as he watched her. But her next words caused the worst pain he’d felt in a long time.

“Can we have a redo?” As her voice shook, his last barrier fell, and he was sobbing - the kind you try to choke back and keep quiet as he crushed her against him, burying his face in her hair.

“Not this time baby. Not this time.” 

They weren’t sure how they could cry harder, but they did. He swayed as he held her, tight and warm. Ethan wiped his own tears away with his jacket sleeve as he checked the boarding time on the tickets. 

“I love you. So much,” she said. 

“I love you too. I’m so sorry. If you ever need me... “ he trailed off, unsure if his offer would only hurt them both more down the road. She understood what he meant, and she took a deep breath. In. Out. 

“Right now, I need you to turn around, and I need you to walk away, or I’m never going to be able to let you go.” 

“Okay.” 

He didn’t move. She finally looked up at him and held herself together, determined to look at his face in person for the last time without the distortion of tears. 

“Take care of yourself, okay? Be safe. Be happy. I’m always gonna love you.” Her voice was as steady as she could make it, and that somehow hurt him worse. 

“Forever,” he whispered, and then he was kissing her. He wrapped her up in his arms as tightly as he could, held her to him until he forced himself away, only keeping a hold of her hand. 

Ethan, always in tune with his brother, seemed to recognize his cue. 

Indy nodded and squeezed his hand one more time, and then she let him go, their fingers tracing over one anothers until they fell away, the distance too much.

A numbness spread over her body as soon as he let her go, and she watched from her spot as he disappeared down the hallway and into the security line.

She didn’t remember getting back to her car. But somehow, she managed to crawl inside and lock the doors before she crumpled forward onto her steering wheel.

[visionsofus]

I suggest the song "Where the Shadow Ends" by Banners for your mixtape fic. It's beautiful and melancholic, but also hopeful. It's given me a lot of inspiration for WandaVision fics lately.

Ahh thank you so much for this song!! I totally get what you mean with it being kinda sombre but also hopeful! It’s captured so perfectly in the lyrics too. Sorry it took me a while to get around to this - but better late than never ✨

Track #12: Where The Shadow Ends by BANNERS 

| read on AO3 here | mixtape playlist | send me an ask with your song/prompt request |

synopsis: Wanda falls ill at the compound and Vision panics. Surprisingly, her illness gives them an opportunity to talk about their feelings. Wanda comes to terms with putting faith in her feelings and in Vision. 

All things considered; Wanda probably shouldn’t have gone to the gym when she did. But Steve had offered to help her with some of the new equipment the compound had ordered in and Wanda knew she pushed herself harder when faced with his superhuman training schedule.

She didn’t feel too bad at the beginning of the work out, going through the motions of warming up. She worked out most days because if she didn’t her body suffered after missions. So, she persisted even when she was tired and her muscles were sore, and apparently, even when it was pouring with rain. She’d quickly regretted her decision to go on a run despite the threatening grey sky. By the time the rain had started Wanda was too far into her run to turn back and had stubbornly refused to call anyone at the compound to come pick her up, instead walking all the way back as her wet shoes started to rub blisters into her heels. Thanks to an hour in sopping wet clothes, battling a harsh wind all the way home she’d woken up with a temperature the past two mornings.

But when she’d checked her temperature a few hours ago it seemed the fever had finally broken, and she was so restless that she didn’t hesitate to accept Steve’s invitation. A mistake she was going to pay for.

The warmup had her feeling a little woozy and lightheaded but not terrible. Things quickly went downhill as she started her usual activities. Just as she picked the dumbbells up to start on her triceps a sudden wave of dizziness hit her full force. Wanda vaguely remembered Steve calling her name as the dumbbells hit the floor with two resounding thuds and she promptly passed out.

Vision was stuck in a research spiral when he distantly heard the Compound AI say his name.

“Currently fetching recent message from Steve Rogers,” the robotic voice said from the speaker in the ceiling and Vision tilted his head as he listened. “Wanda has passed out in the gym, please prepare first aid.”

Vision didn’t give the AI the chance to repeat itself, launching himself out of his seat and phasing through the wall. He was used to quick thinking, easily able to make split second decisions based on a variety of possibilities, but this was something different. He didn’t thinkhe just moved. Within seconds he was phasing through the floors of the compound arriving in the basement with such force that his feet split the tiled floor on impact.

“What happened?” Vision asked with such fervour that he might have reprimanded himself for snapping, were he not so taken aback by the sight of Wanda’s limp body in the Captain’s arms.

“We were ten minutes into our workout and she just dropped to the floor,” Steve explained not hesitating to hand Wanda over to Vision’s waiting arms.

“She has a fever,” Vision said as he gathered Wanda up, holding her close so he could support her head against his chest. She was burning up, her breaths coming in short bursts that concerned him. How had her temperature gotten so high and why hadn’t any of them noticed her getting ill? Most of all, how had he let it slip his attention?

“You get her upstairs while I get a drip.”

They both started up the stairs, Vision trying not to jostle his unconscious cargo, too concerned to try phasing, even if the stairs were frustratingly slower. They parted ways at the ground floor as Steve hurried to the med bay and Vision continued to Wanda’s bedroom.

He kicked her door open with his foot and brought her over to the bed. As he set her down atop the navy covers, lifting her up to slip another pillow under her head, Vision wondered if it might have been better to just take her straight to the infirmary, or better yet, the hospital. But Wanda was notoriously unpredictable when it came to waking up in unfamiliar environments and had taken out a wall the last time she had passed out and woken up in the infirmary. Her own space was better, for now. Vision brushed her hair off her sweating forehead and Wanda groaned softly, shivering in her feverish state and reaching for the bed covers.

“No, no,” Vision murmured pulling Wanda’s hands away as she attempted to pull her covers up over her. She might be feeling cold, but Vision estimated her temperature was nearing 39C. While he waited for Cap to return with the drip Vision hurried to and from the kitchen and her bedroom, carrying with him a bowl of water and a cloth. Distracted, he managed to spill about a quarter of it along the hallway. He was just laying the cloth gently atop her forehead when Steve arrived in the doorway, IV equipment in hand.

“How did she get this fever?” Vision asked as Steve set down the mobile frame and hung the bag of liquid from the top. It was rare for illness to travel around the compound when so many of them were unable to fall sick, though there were far more serious conditions that could cause fever.

“She got caught in the rain on Wednesday, must have caught a cold from that,” Steve replied connecting the tubing and handing the other end to Vision as he prepared the needle. “She didn’t tell you?”

“No, she didn’t tell me,” Vision murmured, stoutly ignoring the little part of him that disliked Steve knowing something about her that he didn’t. He instead focused on finishing the IV, taking a little bit of tape from the first aid kit to secure the tubing to Wanda’s bare arm.

It wasn’t really a surprise that he hadn’t known of her rainy run. In the last week Vision had barely seen Wanda, something he found absurd because he lived just down the hall from the room they were currently in. And, well, the rest of the team often described them as being ‘attached at the hip’. Unfortunately, it seemed Wanda was excellent at making herself scarce when Vision tried to be near her these days. She was clearly trying to set a boundary, which Vision would understandably accept, if only he could understand what it was for. There had been no big change between them that he could identify, if anything they’d been getting closer, but it was as though she’d decided she didn’t like spending time with him anymore.

“I should have told her to go easy with the exercise,” Steve said, more to himself than anything, but Vision silently agreed.

Vision sighed quietly and perched himself next to the unconscious Wanda, removing the cloth from her head and submerging it in the basin once more. “She needs to look after herself,” he murmured, “or at least let someone else help her.” Vision avoided meeting Steve’s eyes following this admission, knowing that behind thissomeone else meant himself.

He wrung the cloth out and returned it to her scorching skin, delicately wiping at her cheeks and neck. Though she seemed more peaceful now and her breathing more regular, he was still on edge. Hopefully the fluids would start to do their job and her temperature would come down, but if this continued through the night, he’d call a doctor.

“And are you alright?” Steve asked, he’d retreated to the wall and was leaning against it now with his arms folded. “You were fairly shaken up down there.”

“Yes,” Vision replied quietly, not wanting to speak too loudly lest they wake her up before her body was ready. “I don’t like seeing her like this.”

Steve hummed thoughtfully. “And everything is alright between you two, other than this? It’s like she runs out of the room whenever she sees you these days.”

“I do not know if everything is alright, I thought things were maybe changing between us, but then she began avoiding me,” Vision sighed, tucking Wanda’s hair back from her face. As he did so she stirred slightly, her head tilting into his touch. She mumbled something incoherent.

“She’s been through a lot. A connection like the one you two seem to have,” Steve cleared his throat, “uh this intimacy I suppose, could be scary and unfamiliar. I could be wrong, of course, I’m just speaking to what I’ve seen in the last few months.”

Vision didn’t reply and continued wiping at her forehead. He often spent more time watching than talking, he spoke when it was of value and only with Wanda did he find himself speaking freely. To have Steve identify this insight about their relationship made him realise that he wasn’t the only one monitoring the interpersonal connections of his teammates.  

When he didn’t reply Steve pushed himself off the wall and headed for the door. “She’ll probably be hungry when she wakes up, and you know what they say about chicken soup and the flu. I’ll go to the store.”

“Good idea,” Vision said absentmindedly.

He sat with Wanda quietly for another half hour, replacing the basin of water once and continuing to cool her forehead down. At one point he had to stand to put the blinds down as the late afternoon sun started to hit the side of the compound and streamed through her windows, casting them in a golden light. Otherwise, he was simply content to sit by her side for the first time in a week without her scurrying out of the room or pretending like he wasn’t here.

He rested his chin on his hand and gazed at Wanda’s shelves and the growing collection of items she’d collected on their travels to personalise her room. A snow globe from Atlanta, a framed picture of the team from their first big mission together, a newspaper clipping, one of the few that spoke kindly of her.

“Was I wrong,” he murmured to the air, “to think we were becoming something more?”

“Vis?” Came Wanda’s quiet voice and Vision was surprised to feel her fingers brushing his knee. He turned to her to see she was blinking blearily up at him.

“You’re ok,” Vision assured her instinctively, moving closer to lift the cloth from her forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Like crap,” she muttered thickly. “Can I have some water?”  

“Just a moment.” Vision stood and sped out the room and to the kitchen where he hurriedly filled up a glass and was back at her side in seconds. She managed a soft smile when he reappeared, the first smile he’d seen in a week, which almost had him stumbling as he returned.

He offered his hand to steady her as she sat up a little and took the water from him. When she leant back once more, her eyes were on him darting about his face and he quickly schooled his expression to be free of the worry nagging his heart.

“Is there anything else you need?” Vision asked.

“No,” Wanda sighed sleepily, “just rest I think.”

“Would you like me to leave?” Vision nearly kicked himself for saying what he feared out loud, for providing such an easy opportunity to let her push him away again.

“No.”

“You don’t sound sure.”

In silent response Wanda turned her head away from him and bit her lip.

“You’re ill and tired, we shouldn’t have this conversation right now,” Vision said, aware of the fact that he was buying time for himself before she could give him the answer he feared.

“Please don’t be angry,” Wanda said and then so quietly, Vision thought he had imagined it, “it’s for the best.”

He’d been ready to stand and leave the room but at this took one of her hands in his, squeezing it in what he hoped she took as reassurance. “I am not angry at you, I could never be angry at you. I am worried.”

“But I’ve been avoiding you without explanation,” Wanda huffed raising her free hand to rub the sleep from her eyes.

“Well, I suppose there is that,” Vision relented, “but please know I would never be angry at you for wanting space, I admit I was hurt but if you could explain things to me, if there’s anything I’ve done that you haven’t liked—”

Wanda laughed, or it sounded like something close to a laugh, coarse and cynical more than anything. Vision stopped mid-sentence and looked down at his hands. Distantly, he registered the sound of the front door opening and closing – Steve was back just in time.

“I should go,” Vision said sadly, standing up to leave, “Steve will bring you some soup.”

“Wait no,” Wanda said sitting up and her hands flying out for him. “I wasn’t laughing at you, I swear.”

He could tell she wasn’t lying and slowly let her pull him back down to the bed. Wanda slowly leant against the pillows once more, this moment of exertion had evidently taken it out of her. She closed her eyes even as her hands remained tight on his arm. “The fact that you think you could ever do something I don’t like, is ironic, that’s why I laughed.”

“Ironic?” Vision asked.

Wanda sighed quietly and moved her hands from his arm to his hands, holding them tightly as though prepared to stop him from walking out again. “You want me to spell it out, huh?”

He said nothing.

“I owe you an explanation I suppose,” Wanda said and despite how peaky the sickness was making her look, her cheeks gained a little more colour as she spoke. “You’ve been too good to me, the best part of my days is when I’m with you, I pulled away to see if what I was feeling was real. I thought if I could go a little bit without you then maybe what I was feeling wasn’t that serious,” she jerked her chin to the IV stand next to her, “but my assumptions were correct.”  

“So,” Vision began raising his eyes to meet her unwavering gaze, “what you’re saying is…”

“I’m falling for you and I’m scared about what that means for us,” she said and took a deep breath, “and of losing you.”

“You cannot lose me if you don’t have me,” Vision replied, “and perhaps youcan put aside your feelings. I, however, cannot.” It was true, if this week had taught him anything it was that he needed her in his life, by his side and if she let him, as something more.

Wanda’s eyes shone happily for a moment before she seemed to reign herself in. “I thought I could stop how I’m feeling,” she murmured, “I thought it was for the best, I thought I could protect myself.”

“We could protect each other.”

“Until one of us isn’t there,” Wanda said cynically, “I know this isn’t the kind of job we get to retire from.”

“Is that not more reason to pursue this, while we can?” Vision asked leaning closer.

Wanda didn’t have an answer to this, and Vision felt as though he had said enough for her to think about. He stood up, keeping a hold of her hands for as long as he could before he was forced to let go, stepping away.

“I will go and see if your soup is ready.”

Steve sat with Wanda while she ate the soup, her mind doing backflips over her conversation with Vision.

She wasn’t expecting Steve to be so forthright with his questioning, but he asked her as soon as she finished eating. “Have you fixed things between you and Vision?”

Wanda tried not to let her mouth hang open in surprise. “Not yet,” she muttered letting her spoon drop against the bowl and pushing it towards him.

“I’ve never seen him scared before today, you really gave him a fright.”

Wanda didn’t reply, letting the information sit with her even as the guilt began to fester.

“I don’t say that to make you feel bad,” Steve said, as though reading her mind, “I’m telling you so you know how much he cares about you. I mean he’s a synthezoid, Wanda, we used to worry he wouldn’t feel things and now the problem is him feeling too much? Do you not feel the same?”

Wanda stealthily avoided this question, she hadn’t even confessed the full extent of her emotions to Vis, she wasn’t about to let Steve in on her closely guarded heart just yet. No matter how much his counsel usually helped her. “I just feel this great wave of darkness waiting just beyond our horizon,” she said quietly, afraid to admit the brewing shadows she’d been feeling for months now. “Like something big is on the way, something we can’t stop.”

Steve’s brows furrowed at this, but he persisted. “Wanda, you of all people know how much your own mind can be your biggest enemy,” he said, “so is that really reason enough to ignore the light? Avoiding sad emotions doesn’t necessarily make us feel happy, so what makes you think running from happiness will stop you ever being sad?”

When she was still quiet, he pushed further. “You’ve had more darkness in your life than anyone should, but here’s an opportunity to add a bit of light to those shadows, are you really going to say no?”

She opened her mouth to answer but this time didn’t have the opportunity as Vision phased through the wall, pausing when he saw he’d caught the pair deep in conversation.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said quickly, but Cap was standing up, taking the empty soup bowl with him.

“It’s ok, I was just leaving.”

Vision pressed his hands together as he walked around her bed hesitantly, keeping his distance. “I wanted to check in on you before bed, are you feeling better?”

“Much better,” Wanda said, but she still felt a little feverish and like she might need to sleep for a week.

“I am glad to hear that,” he murmured, rubbing at the back of his neck, “if you need anything in the night I’m just down the hall.”

“Can’t you stay?” Wanda blurted out before she could lose her nerve again. “Please?”

“If that would help,” Vision replied, and Wanda swore he turned away to hide a smile. When he looked back at her she patted the bed, gesturing for him to join her.

He was careful not to jostle her as he laid down, and Wanda openly admired his grace even as he shyly avoided her gaze.

“I admit I probably wouldn’t have slept tonight; I’d just keep coming in to check your temperature,” Vision conceded as he lay his head against the pillow and Wanda turned to face him. Then, more hesitantly, “Please don’t push me away without warning again.”

“I promise,” she replied without hesitation. “Perhaps I wasn’t sick because of the rain, maybe it was more complicated, like my heart giving up a little when I stubbornly tried not to listen to it.”

Vision chuckled. “I think the rain definitely didn’t help, but your heart makes a good point.”

Wanda smiled tugging the pillow further under her head and placing a hand under her cheek. She scrunched her nose at Vision, unable to stop smiling and extended her hand in invitation. He accepted, bringing one of his own hands up and intertwining their fingers, kissing the back of her hand tenderly.  

“And have you decided to listen to your heart?” He murmured, kissing her hand to punctuate the question.

“I have a very stubborn heart,” she relented, “I couldn’t ignore it even if I tried.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Vision said smiling at her and shuffling closer.

Wanda pushed back against his chest and Vision immediately halted. “Wait.”

“What’s wrong?”

“You’ll get sick.”

Vision laughed. “Wanda, dear, I am a synthezoid, you couldn’t pass your illness onto me even if you wanted to.”

Wanda tilted her chin up at the challenge. “Well in that case.” She pulled him close and pressed her mouth to his as she’d wanted to hundreds of times. As though in celebration, the lights flickered out and the door slammed shut, submerging them in darkness that had Wanda laughing in embarrassment at her magic’s overreaction. Now cast in shadow, the only light was the soft glow of the mind stone atop Vision’s head, and the faint gleam of his eyes in the night. She used them as guidance to kiss him again, and again, and again. Finding no reason to stop until she felt him smile against her mouth, pulling back a little so that their noses were still brushing and the breath between them was shared. She was done with running from this, not quite sure how they had ever been able to hold themselves back from each other.  

[hooked-on-the-feelin]

Ain’t No Mountain High Enough

——————————————————————————————

- 2k+ words

- Pairing: Peter Quill/Star-Lord x Reader, Slight Thor x Reader

- Summary: After the attack on Asgard, you find yourself drifting through the space with The Guardians of The Galaxy. Thor, being protective of you because you’re a dear friend of his, tries his hardest to protect you. But he can’t protect you from Peter Quill’s pelvic sorcery.

——————————————————————————————

  Everything was gone. Your home, your family, your favorite restaurant. All of it. It was all because of Thanos. All because he wanted the damn infinity stone.

  Random thoughts swirled through you head as you became light headed. You couldn't breathe. It was all too much. You felt weightless. You felt like a feather, just drifting through the open galaxy.

  Your eyelids began to close and everything faded to black.

      

  "Wake," A voice rang through your head and you shot up suddenly, chest heaving. Your eyes began to water as you scanned the room. Who the hell were these people?

   You shuffled back slightly, nearly falling off the table you currently rested on. Your heart was racing as tears began to well in your eyes.

    The bottom of your floor length dress was tattered and torn. The bodice, which was outlined with metal for support and some protection, was sticking out at different angles.

    Your best friend had given you that dress as a birthday gift. And now? It was ruined. They had died on Asgard, along with your family.

    "Y/N," A voice spoke from behind you, causing you to turn towards it. You spotted Thor, who was currently seated on a bench behind you.

    "Thor? You're alive!" You exclaimed, then realized that you were in a random ship filled with random people, "Who are they?"

    Thor shrugged, "Why don't you ask them? They explain it much more creatively."

    You turn to them, studying them each. A raccoon. A tree. A woman who was currently staring at Thor. A man with... red tattoos? A woman with antennas. And finally, a man who was currently staring you in the eyes.

  The man smiled softly at you, causing you to relax a bit. Your grip on the table loosened as you returned the gaze. You couldn't take your eyes off of him.

  "Peter Quill. But most people know me as Star-Lord," He leans against a shelf, causing it to come crashing down shortly after.

    A small laugh escaped your lips, "Who are you guys? Where am I?"

    "I am Groot," The tree says, his gameboy resting at his side.

   "I'm Y/N," You respond.

    Peter stands the shelf up on its side on the floor, taking a few steps towards you, "We're The Guardians of The Galaxy. The fluffy rabbit here is Rocket. Careful, he will steal. Over there in the Green is Mantis. Don't let her touch you if you have any secrets. Thor's not so secret admirer is Gamora. Big man is Drax. And this," He gestures to the ship, "Is home. For us."

You looked around the interior of the ship, "It's... nice. Really."

    Peter nods, slapping the side of it, then pointing to a stereo. Inside was a small cassette, labeled 'My Awesome Mixtape Vol. 2', "This is my pride and joy."

    You nod, "Any good songs?"

     He smiles, nodding eagerly, "Yeah, great songs. The best."

    "Maybe I could listen-" You were cut off by Thor rising out of his seat, grumbling, "We're not here to socialize, Y/N. We have places to be."

    "What places?" You question, "I never signed up for any of this."

     "We need to do this. For Asgard," He says with a sigh, rubbing his chin.

      You bow your head, singing your legs so you now sat on the table, "What can I do?"

    "I'm sending you down to Earth. I have some friends there that can  help you. You just need to be somewhere safe," Thor explains, "Ready?"

       "Hold on. I didn't agree to your proclamation. You may know this people but I don't," You hiss, slipping off the table all together, nearly tumbling to the ground. You let out a cry, clutching your knee. When you pulled your hand away, you saw blood oozing down your arm.

         Peter came to stand beside you, "You're hurt."

       Rocket slaps a hand to his head, "She has eyes, Quill."

        A frown appears on his face, "I'm gonna get you back on that table, alright?"

       You nod, your eyes screwed shut as the pain travels further down your leg. You inhale sharply as Peter helps you back onto the table, placing his arms under your shoulders and lifting you up, setting you down gently.

      It was then that you realized how close you were. You swallowed the bile rising in your throat and mumbled, "Thank you."

       Peter then turns to Thor, "She can't travel if she's injured. Hell, she can barely walk. If it's alright with her, she can stay here until she recuperates."

       He clenches his teeth, "We have doctors on Earth who can actually help her. Come on, Y/N, I'll help you."

       "No."

       Thor's brows furrow, "No? What do you mean? You've always wanted to go to Earth!"

       "He offered. I'm staying. I'm old enough to make my own decisions. I don't know when you got it in your head that you control what I do- but it ends now. I make my own choices."

       Rocket snickers, "I like 'er."

    "If that's how it is," He frowns, "Then so be it. I guess I'll avenge Asgard myself."

      You shrug, "Who said I can't help out from up here? Hmm? I'm sure I can do something. Whether that's mopping the floor or doing something more meaningful."

       Gamora lets out a small laugh, "The floor is dirty. Peter never wipes his feet when he comes in."

       "Gamora..." He says in a hushed tone, pursing his lips, "You said you wouldn't tell anyone..."

        "We all knew it was you, Quill," Rocket cackles, "You have tiny little man feet."

         Peter blushes, "I don't have tiny little man feet!"

       "Ask the real man," Drax says, "He's has muscles."

      "I have muscles!" Peter protests, lifting up the arm of his shirt.

      You scanned his arms. He did have muscles. They weren't overly large like Thor's- and they weren't small like one of your old friends. They were... nice. Really nice. Nice to look at. You tried to look away- but you physically couldn't.

       "Eh," Rocket says, "I stand by what I said earlier. Yer one sandwich 'way from bein' fat."

       "I don't think you are," You say meekly, causing Peter to smile and say thank you."

        "So, you're really staying?" Thor asks bitterly, already knowing the answer. He wished he wouldn't have asked.

       "Yes," You answered, then turned to Peter, who was currently leaning against the table, "Do you guys have anything I could use to bandage his up?"

      "I'll help you with it. It looks deep. You may need some stitches," He replies, grabbing a med kit from above you.

       "Peter, let me handle the stitches. Last time you gave someone stitches, you had to get some, too."

       He sighed, "But I know how to do t now!"

      Gamora shakes her head, "You're not supposed to poke yourself with the needle!"

       "How was I supposed to know that?" He questions, crossing his arms.

       She groans, "I quit."

       "You can't quit. We're in space."

————————————————————

        As you and The Guardians headed to a planet that you didn't quite remember the name of, you sat quietly on the table.

       Peter has began to clean your wound, letting out a sigh of relief when he saw that the cut wasn't as deep as he had thought, "You don't need stitches, but this is gonna stick like a mother."

      The word "mother" made your heart sink. It reminded you of the family you had lost during the attack. You looked away from where Peter kneeled on the floor, tending to your knee.

      He had been right. It did sting like a mother. You let out a cry as he began to disinfect it, applying alcohol.

       You squirmed, gripping the table as tight as possible.

        He pauses momentarily, setting the supplies down on the floor beside him and walking over to the stereo, pressing play, "Hope this'll distract you."

       Listen, baby. Ain't no mountain high, ain't no valley low. Ain't no river wide enough, baby.

      You smiled at the lyrics. It eased the tension a bit and you loosened your grip on the table slightly.

If you need me, call me. No matter where you are, no matter how far.

  

       You let out a cry as Peter reached a sensitive area on your knee, once again gripping the table. Your eyes were screwed shut.

       In an effort to lighten up the mood, he sang along, "Don't worry baby. Just call my name, I'll be there in a hurry. You don't have to worry!"

       A smile grew on your face as you looked down at him, mouthing a thank you as he finally put the alcohol away.

      Although the majority of the pain had stopped, he continued to sing along, "Cause Baby there ain't no mountain high enough! Ain't no valley low enough! Ain't no river wide enough- to keep me from getting to you, baby."

       You looked up at you through his eyelashes with a classic smile,

       "Remember the day I set you free? I told ya you could always count on me! From that day on, I made a vow. I'll be there when you want me- someway, somehow."

       He repeated the chorus once more, this time as he wrapped a bandage around your knee, securing it a moment later while singing, "Oh no, darlin'. If you're ever in trouble, I'll be there on the double. Just send for me!"

      You let out a small laugh as he stands and takes your hands in his, gently rocking from side to side

      You gazed into one another's eyes as the song continued to play in the background.

       My love is alive, way down in my heart. Although we are miles apart, If you ever need a helping hand, I'll be there on the double- Just as fast as I can!

    Ain't no mountain high enough! Ain't no valley low enough! Ain't no river wide enough! To keep me from getting to you-

      "Babe," Peter finished, leaning forwards to take yours lips in his own. You wrap yours arms around his neck, pulling him closer as your legs wrap around his, your knee still aching.

       He rests a hand below your upper thigh, deepening the kiss as "Brandy" began to play.

       Your hand squeezed his upper arm, and you briefly pulled away, "All muscle."

      He smirked and let out a breathy laugh before pressing his lips to yours, one hand now resting on the back of your hand, tangling in your hair.

You could get used to this.

[canyonmoonlily]

| mixtape |

side 1, track 3:

Layla | Derek & The Dominoes

Miranda was drunk. Absolutely, out of her mind drunk. The bar around her seemed to move as if it was under water, and she begins wondering why she thought that many shots was a good idea.

“Ma’am?” an odd accent called her out her drunken daze and she’s faced with a rather good looking, oddly familiar man.

“Mhhphg?” she responds eloquently.

“Have you seen my mate Richard here anywhere? Richard Madden?” He asks. “I know you were filming the Jimmy Fallon Show with him tonight, with your band.” At this Miranda’s look of drunken confusion shifts.

“Yes! I saw him earlier with my friend, my bandmate Y/N,” she slurred at the pretty man with the funny accent. “Wait.” Her eyebrows pulled together. “Is your name Aaron by any chance?”

The pretty man laughs.

“No actually, but close.” He has a nice smile, Miranda thinks.

“T-Taron? Is that it? I know you from those strange movies with all the British men in suits.”

The pretty man laughs harder at this, leaning into her slightly as he does. She’s seated on a high chair in the “VIP” section of the bar, him leaning against the table only a few inches away from her wearing some coat that just looks so ridiculously soft.

“You have a nice laugh,” she sighs, unable to help herself.

“You have a gorgeous smile, love.” he beams at her compliment. She’s far too drunk to know what she’s saying but it doesn’t distract from how stunning she was. Taron can’t help but find he’s quite flattered with her openly flirting with him. “But I really need to find my mate, Richard. The last I talked to him he sounded a bit drunk, I don’t want him getting himself into any trouble.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s been like an hour...I dunno maybe not I don’t understand time right now..” Miranda trailed off drunkenly, head falling in her hands.

“Oh god Miranda, not again,” came the voice of a tall brunette appearing behind Taron. She cradles her face in her hands, Miranda just smiling up at her goofily.

“I assume you’re here looking for Richard?” The brunette chirped, looking at Taron. “I’m Victoria, Miranda and y/n’s bandmate and caretaker, it seems.” She grins shaking his hand.

“I’m Taron, Taron Egerton.” He smiles.

“Miranda!” Miranda happily cheers her own name causing Taron to grin and Victoria to groan.

“Oh God, okay um the last I saw was Richard leaving with Y/N about 45 minutes ago or so? You can follow me if you want to check in and make sure he made it somewhere safe,” Victoria smiles at Taron before attempting to lift Miranda’s limp and giggling form from her chair.

“I can get her if you want,” Taron offered. Victoria eyed him somewhat warily before shrugging, deciding he probably wasn’t a threat.

“Sure, that would be a huge help actually,” she sighed, grabbing her and Miranda’s purses before clearing a path to the outside. Taron reaches for Miranda and she launches to her feet, clinging to his side with a lazy smile, hiccuping the whole way to the door.

By the time they reach the apartment, Miranda is completely out, her tiny frame cradled in Taron’s arms. Taron doesn’t seem to mind.

He follows Victoria to her bedroom and lays her down, smiling at her peaceful slumber.

“Thank you so much for all your help with her, Taron,” Victoria smiles and then grimaces. “And again, I’m really sorry about her very loud rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody on the way back. I swear she’s not usually this obnoxious.” Taron just shakes his head and chuckles.

“Really don’t worry about it, even drunk she’s a right cutie,” his eyes move back to Miranda’s form.

“I could give you her number if you’d like?” Victoria trailed off with a hopeful smile. She loved playing matchmaker.

“Actually, yeah, I would love that,” Taron finds himself beaming at the prospect of seeing Miranda again—hopefully sober the next time.

After adding her contact into his phone Victoria and Taron creep over to Y/N’s room.

“So you three are 22 year old multi millionaires who choose to live together?” He whispered to her.

“Yeah, we’re like sisters. None of us like being away from each other for too long.” Victoria smiles inwardly at the thought. The bond between the three women was strong.

As they open a crack into y/n’s door, they do their best to be discreet and not chuckle or die at the sight before them.

Both Y/N and Richard are clearly very naked and very comfortable with one another under the thin white sheets of y/n’s bed. He’s asleep on her chest, his arms tightly wound around her little waist. Her hands are in his hair and both of them have hints of bliss on their faces. At least someone had a good night, Taron scoffs at the sight.

......

The next morning is an early one for our friend, Richard. He awakes to his phone ringing obnoxiously, hurrying to click his power before it wakes the sleeping form beneath him.

It’s 7 am. Christ. 4 missed calls.

Richard is alarmed to see his agent had been blowing up his phone before he remembered his GMA interview. Good god he was going to get it for this one. As quickly as he can, he unravels himself from the beauty beneath him, her naked form giving him flashbacks of the night before. As he slips his discarded clothing back on he feels a grin fighting it’s way onto his lips as he looks at y/n’s peaceful state.

He felt like he was already practically in love with her. Completely enamored by and taken with every little scrunch of her nose, the rise and the fall of her breathing. He almost can’t leave, the longer he looks at her the more his legs seem to grow imaginary roots that hold him hostage in her bedroom. He reconciles to leave her a note—on the wall calendar to the right of the bed.

“Had to go to do a GMA interview at 9:00 am. I would like to discuss with you some things about last night, my number is xxx xxx xxxx. Richard.”

He wanted to know if the night they’d spent together meant as much to her as it did to him. Maybe he was idealizing her and setting himself up for heartbreak but he was willing to take that risk—even if it only meant seeing her again.

eight months later

Y/N was completely zoned in. Her ADHD meds had kicked in and she was finally finishing up her packing for this god forsaken trip—her first vacation in what felt like decades.

It had been 8 months of songwriting, performing, and distracting herself from the little ache in her heart. Y/N had even taken up going to the gym. And working out. On purpose.

As she threw her last few things into the bag, hips swaying to the beat of John Lennon’s raspy vocals on Yer Blues, she found herself in one of those brief little moments where she almost enjoyed being sad. Yes, life was all peaches and cream for a woman as wealthy and successful as Y/N, but like every human, she liked to revel in her pain from time to time—even if she’s the cause of it. Moment’s like these disgusted her, so she usually crammed the feeling down.

Y/N had read Richard’s note the next morning with shaky legs and blurry vision. She knew what things he wanted to discuss.

The blood on the sheets. The stain of your lies.

He had to have figured it out. He had to have noticed she didn’t feel quite right. Y/N had really done it this time—she’d given her virginity to a man she hardly knew. And without telling him.

She had been so caught up in the blue of Richard’s eyes and his elderberry wine stained lips that she’d not thought of what she was doing before it was too late. She violated his trust by withholding that information and she was so embarrassed she swore she could never face him again. Could never call him. Could never think about him for longer than a few minutes unless she was joking around with the girls about how dumb she was for thinking it meant anything to him.

She tried very hard to find the humor in the situation but it never really worked. The laughter never really masked the sting of his name. She didn’t want Miranda or Victoria to worry about her so she nursed her wounds in private and stopped mentioning that night altogether after the 3rd month.

Now 8 months later, sometimes she could stand in her room without her mind immediately going back to that night. It had taken her a long time to rid herself of the lingering sexual frustration. She had to get rid of his note to keep herself from calling him desperately in the middle of the night.

“Hey Y/N, darling, you almost ready?” Came a pretty welsh accent from the hall. Taron popped his head into her door, a goofy and excited grin on his face.

“Yep, whenever you guys are!” She chirped back cheerfully. And for the first time in a long time, it was genuine. It wasn’t easy watching Miranda and Taron fall in love while she was trying to squash her feelings for a Richard. It was quite painful, honestly.

But y/n never said anything. Of course she didn’t. Y/N wouldn’t rain on Miranda’s parade just because of how she’d ruined whatever was between her and Richard by lying to him.

“You guys,” came a loud wailing noise from further up the hallway. “Will just found out he can’t come, he got asked to stay another week even though the show’s already opened.” Victoria looked distraught as she explained her fiance, a broadway choreographer, couldn’t join their beach trip.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry Vic,” Y/N smiled sympathetically and embraced her distraught bandmate. “At least now we have room for Taron to invite a friend.”

“Really? Y/N are you sure?” Taron tried to mask his excitement. “It is your birthday trip after all.”

Y/n smiled and waved him off with a warm assurance that she didn’t really care. She’d have all the company she’d need with Miranda, Vic, and the many of their other friends who would be meeting them there to celebrate.

—

“Hey! What are you up to this week, mate?” Taron chieoed excitedly over the phone. His grin growing mischievous when the voice on the other end responded with a “nothing.”

Taron couldn’t help himself. “How would you feel about a week trip to Cancun?”

“What am I supposed to do? Say no?” Richard chuckled on the other end, he really needed a vacation now that he thought about it. “I’ll hop on the next flight out. What’s the occasion?”

“Ah, just a birthday party. Nothing major, mate.”

Kind of short and crappy but I promise the next chapter will make up for it tenfold. So much planned. *chaotic laughter*

[rockinthebeastmode]

Sleep III (Final)

A/N: Unfortunately, we’ve reached the end. I hope you enjoy! Inspired by the song Sleep by MCR. Special thx to lovely @arathewallflower for her help with this one 😘😁

Sleep I     Sleep II

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Sleep III

“Take off your shirt please.”

“Jesus, buy me a drink first,” Finn teased. He smirked when the doctor gave him a withering look and shook her head.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered. He tugged his shirt off and winked, “Ready when you are, love.”

“That’s Dr. Harris to you, Nelson,” she stated dryly, slapping gloves onto her hands. She took his left arm and raised a warm wet cloth to it, gently washing his burns. He sighed lightly and half-smiled, staring at the tile floor. He bit his cheek through the stinging sensation and breathed deep when she withdrew and started his other arm.

“How’s it feeling? Anything going on?” Finn’s eyes lifted to the ceiling, squinting into the light. He shrugged.

“They’re healing fine. Normal,” he said, wincing as the cloth ran over his shoulders. She raised a brow at him.

“You have previous experience with burns?”

“You could say that,” he quipped with a smirk.

“Ever the enigma, Mr. Nelson.” Finn looked up to see the police chief, Simon Evans. His brow lowered and his smirk faded.

“More questions, sir?” Finn asked irritably, Evans shrugging and coming to stand closer.

“The same question, really. I’m sure you know which one.”

“I have nothing to add, sir.” Evans’ expression soured and he crossed his arms.

“You’re only hurting yourself here, Nelson. The sooner you tell us what happened, the sooner you’ll be released,” he said, raising his brows, “You’re sure you have nothing to say?”

Finn pursed his lips, wrinkling his nose.

“Naw, nothing comes to mind.”

Evans sneered slightly but nodded, waving a hand.

“Maybe your story will change by your trial date,” he taunted while opening the door to leave, “See you in a month, Nelson.”

***

Finn checked his watch alarm before he gingerly laid down on his back, adjusting his sleeves over his fresh bandages. He crossed his arms over his chest and shut his eyes, letting out a small groan.

He’d dealt with hundreds of burns over his life--none quite like this. This was agonizing.

His eyes squeezed shut tighter and he willed himself to sleep, at least for an hour. Flames danced behind his lids and he bit his lip, his eyes opening to the ceiling. He focussed on breathing, the throbbing of his burns slowly lessening with the pain meds he’d begged Harris for.

Finn wondered if he was doing the right thing by staying quiet. He wasn’t sure why he was so set on it but the thought of anyone knowing what happened that day turned his stomach. He’d always endured his mother alone, always kept everything he could to himself. He was terrified of what would happen to him if he spoke up and told the full story. How would he be seen or treated? How could he move on from that?

He didn’t know if he could handle staying here much longer. He had to do something.

***

Rae shushed him as he yawned loudly and shook his head. He sent her a glare she didn’t see as they made their way through the corridor.

“It’s just up here,” she murmured, approaching a door. She jiggled the knob and turned it to the left an inch and the lock clicked as it opened. She stepped inside and Finn followed, closing the door behind them. He looked around in the darkness, Rae standing close in front of him.

“Where are we, a linen closet?”

“We’re not there yet. This is the entrance,” she whispered, shooting him a grin. She pulled aside the back panel of the wall and revealed a short tunnel. His eyes widened and he stepped after her through the opening.

A few steps brought them to another similar opening, closed off by a heavy sheet. She lifted it and went through with Finn close behind.

“What is this?” he asked, looking around the small room, dimly lit by a large boarded up window on the far wall. Scattered on the floor were books, mixtapes and several magazines, with assorted candles around the whole room. The peeling wallpaper was covered in drawings and writing, all different colors and styles.

“Tix showed me this when I first got here. It’s this little hideout that’s been here forever...I think we’re close to the staff room, some forgotten corner of this massive shithole,” she joked, sharing a grin with him.

They sat on the floor and Rae reached for a candle and glanced around, cursing a moment later.

“We’re out of bloody matches,” she said, making a face at him. He chuckled and pulled out Chop’s lighter, flicking it open. Her eyes widened and her lips raised into a smirk.

“Hand it here, girl,” he said, raising his brows at her. She moved next to him and gave him the candle.

“You’re full of surprises, Finley.” He glanced at her as he lit the candles and placed them around.

“What do you mean?” She shrugged.

“When you first showed up, you seemed so...innocent,” she started, laughing when his mouth twisted, “You were so moody and quiet. Didn’t know if you were sound.” She tilted her head and he smiled, his cheeks reddening lightly.

“Are any of us sound?” he retorted, placing the last candle and leaning back on his elbows with his legs stretched forward. Rae hummed and laid beside him, meeting his eyes from the floor.

“Depends on what you’re in for,” she countered, sharing a smirk with him.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” Finn said, almost subconsciously.

She flattened her lips and held his gaze. He half shrugged at her with a smile.

“You don’t have to tell me, I was just--”

“I hurt myself. A few months ago.” Finn watched Rae take a deep breath but keep her eyes steady and on his. He lowered down to lay beside her and she faced him.

“Everything became too much. I was alone all the time, my best mate was mugging me off and school was a nightmare...my thoughts took over and I just...did it.”

Finn nodded and swallowed hard, looking over her face.

“I’m getting better now though...my release date is soon,” she continued, smiling anxiously, “Kester’s really helped a lot.” Finn grimaced and Rae’s brow furrowed.

“You don’t get along with him?” He glanced to the side, his lips quirking.

“I can’t tell him what he wants to hear.”

“He wants to help--”

“I can’t be helped,” he cut her off, smiling grimly, “This is mine...this belongs to me.”

“What does?”

“My story.”

“Why are you here?” she whispered, Finn’s eyes glazing. He broke their connection and cleared his throat.

“There was a fire,” he breathed, his gaze locked on a candle flame behind Rae. He blinked a few times and met her eyes, “They think I started it.” She moved closer, their faces a head apart.

“Did you?” she asked, her eyes boring into his. He bit his lip roughly and said nothing, his eyes shining in the candlelight. They closed and when a tear slid down across his cheek to the floor, Rae embraced him tightly.

*** Finn was running away.

He was almost sixteen now and it was time for him to get out. He’d spent his entire life in fear, trapped in this house with no escape from his mother’s notice. Growing up, he never was able to stand up for himself but now he was older. He was stronger. He was smarter. He knew what to do.

He opened his front door, standing in the hall and listening for any noise of movement. The silence continued and he jogged up to his room, lightly closing the door behind him. He glanced out of his window at the garage and nodded to himself as he grabbed a duffle bag from under the bed, already packed full with clothes and supplies. He almost went back out the door but stopped short and faced the room. He sighed as he looked over his childhood bedroom, seeing all the glimpses into his past. He frowned when he thought of all the times he’d come here to hide, to treat his wounds, to cry and scream to himself. He adjusted the bag on his shoulder and put a rollie in his mouth. He struck a match and lit it before taking one last look around. He stepped out the door and tossed the lit match into the middle of the room, quickly turning to the stairs. He knew the room would catch fast. He’d made sure of it. He jumped the last step and had his hand on the door when his body was snapped back, a hand fisted around his collar.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

***

“Let’s talk about your relationship with fire.”

“My relationship...with fire?” Finn confirmed, huffing an incredulous laugh. Kester nodded and leaned back in his chair.

“Tell me what you like about it.”

Finn scoffed and rolled his eyes but thought about it for a moment.

“I s’pose I like the colors...they’re bright and powerful,” he started, his brow wrinkling, “I like the way it moves, it’s unyielding…” he trailed off, looking to the side, “It’s hard to control but it calms me down...keeps me from losing it.”

“Do you remember your first fire?” Finn snorted and nodded, licking his lips.

“I can’t remember how old I was...maybe eight? Nine? I’d been watching fires for ages already, always nearby when my parents would light something. It looked so easy to create, for something so dangerous, y’know? It did my head in.”

Finn looked to the ceiling, stretching his legs out in front of him.

“I wanted to try it for myself,” he continued, his brow wrinkling as he remembered, “I found a lighter in a kitchen drawer, one my mum used to light candles with, and took it to my room. I had a bin by my bed that I put in the middle of the room and I sat on the floor in front of it.”

The memory was so clear to this day. He’d been so excited to see it as close as he wanted, to really study and know about it. He couldn’t wait any longer and nothing occupied his mind more.

“I flicked it open and at first, I just...looked at it,” he sighed, “I never felt anything like it...this sense of relief and calm,” he stopped, his eyes closing and his lips flattening, “Mum smelled the smoke.”

Kester leaned forward, clasping his hands. Finn’s eyes remained closed but he continued speaking.

“She barges in and she looked so angry, the worse I’d ever seen her. She rushed forward and dumped the bin, stomped out the flames,” he said softly, “And then she…” Finn stopped and Kester inclined his head.

“She hit you.”

Finn met Kester’s eyes, his wide and shining. He stayed silent but nodded before looking away.

“That was the first time.”

“And it continued?” Finn nodded again, a tear escaping. Kester leaned in and met his eyes.

“You can’t move on from what she did without talking about it. The truth will ease your mind and clear your head.” When Finn nodded once more, Kester continued, “What happened the day of the fire?”

Finn stood and went by the window, looking out for a few moments. He took a deep breath and faced Kester.

“I didn’t kill her,” Finn said, biting his lip, “But I’d planned to.”

*** All Finn had to do now was light a few more matches, make a short trip to the garage and he could set off and get away from this nightmare. He didn’t think his mum was awake.

He ripped her hand away from his collar and backed up a step, dropping the cigarette. He just barely noticed the cherry catching where he’d laid accelerant.

“I’m leaving,” he said, his voice warbling. Her face broke into a sharp grin.

“The hell you are,” she hissed. She swiped a hand at his head and he ducked, before running across the hall. She cut through the kitchen and reached the back door before him. She blocked it off and Finn froze, swallowing hard when he saw the steaming, red-hot pan in her fist.

His head was spinning and his heart beating wildly. He frantically tried to think of what to do as she slowly approached him, a vicious scowl over her face. He couldn’t go out the front door or upstairs, as the flames were slowly building there and judging by the increasing stench of smoke, he assumed the upstairs fire was spreading according to plan. His only way out was through her.

“You can’t stop me,” he yelled, more confidently than he felt. She swung the pan at him and he jumped back, feeling the heat just pass his stomach. He vaulted over the couch and scrambled into the kitchen. He heard her steps behind him and he moved through the room, throwing whatever he could off the counters towards her. He turned at the end of the room and faced her, striking a match.

“I’m burning your precious house to the ground, Mum,” he goaded, stepping to the side towards the flaming hall, “You shouldn’t have played with fire.”

He dropped the match by the fridge and ran to the hall, snatching up his fallen bag and skimming past the wall of fire back towards the living room. He knew she’d catch him at the door again so he kept her in his eyesight as he entered, his bag like a shield in front of him. They circled the couch, his mum’s eyes dark and enraged.

“You’re nothing but an ungrateful waste of space,” she spat, waving the pan wildly, “Just a useless firebug that needs to be stomped out.”

The entire first floor was lit bright orange, the heat and smoke making their way to them. Finn coughed as he moved around, the fire slowly circling in.

She charged him, throwing the pan away as she moved. He ran ahead, dodging scattered flames, and desperately tried to reach the still untouched door. He leapt for it and his hand slipped over the knob as she tugged him back by his collar. They fell back and tumbled onto the floor. Finn caught himself by his arms and cried out when they hit fire, his sleeves catching. He felt his mum’s nails across his back, her hands fumbling for him. With strength he didn’t know he had, he surged up, his mother following and scrabbling to stop him by his jacket. He threw her off of him as hard as he could and he backed up to the door as she dropped and rolled, her clothes catching. He held his bag in a vice grip and opened the door, his mother’s screams piercing over the rush of flames.

***

“The police were already there when I got outside...the neighbors had seen smoke from my window and rang them. They questioned me but I couldn’t say what happened. I could hardly believe it happened.”

Kester ran a hand over his face but met Finn’s eyes and nodded.

“They brought you here to coax it out of you,” he said, Finn shrugging.

“S’pose so. They knew I had something to do with it. I’d gotten caught with small fires before and Evans knew my family personally. He knew how to get to me.”

Kester clasped his hands together.

“From what you’ve said, her death was an accident. You may have planned the fire and started it but her death wasn’t your doing.” Finn shook his head violently.

“But it was! She’d still be here if I hadn’t set it up,” he replied, his hands running through his hair, “This is why I can’t sleep, why she’s haunting me,” he looked up, tears falling unabated, “What kind of son tries to kill their mother? What kind of person?”

“You were acting in self-defense. You were abused and broken down for years and you were acting, fighting back,” Kester insisted, “You’re the kind of person trying to survive.”

Finn shook his head again but kept quiet, swiping at his tears. After a few moments, he looked up and met Kester’s eyes.

“So what now?”

***

“Finn! Wait up!”

Rae came barrelling down the corridor, reaching him as he shut his door and put his bag down.

“Tix is getting released, let’s go see her…” she trailed off, looking at his bag, “You’re leaving?”

He nodded, biting back a small smile. She grinned and hugged him hard, Finn sighing against her neck.

“I guess this is goodbye then,” she said as she pulled away, pouting a little as she met his eyes. He raised his brows.

“It’s goodbye for now, girl,” he said with a smirk, “Did you think we wouldn’t see each other after you got out?”

Her mouth parted in surprise and he raised his brows at her.

“I’ll give you a ring this week, yeah?” he said, leaning closer to her, “Once I get settled somewhere.” She nodded and bit her lip.

“Alright...Laters,” she said. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, smiling when her cheeks reddened.

He backed away with a wave and sighed as he turned and walked towards the front of the building. He signed out at the desk and adjusted his bag on his shoulder. He breathed in deep, a smile playing on his lips and he opened the door, stepping out into the sunlight.

[queernuck]

It’s sad because I’m in my mid 20s but, I cannot take my medication on time for the life of me. I’m constantly freaking about nearing 30. I have a dead end job, nothing to go home to, and I so desperately want to be dead. I think their is love out there for me I just won’t accept it, I’m completely closed off and numb. I still want my childhood loves (fam and friends) back and I don’t know why? I think I want the feeling of being whole again, wounded but whole.

is it because side effects make you like, want to forget your meds so you conveniently “forget” them and oh no now it’s too late, or is it just because you’re bad at remembering them? that one may be a bit difficult but like, if you have a relatively set schedule, setting a daily alarm on your phone, or making sure that you take them during one morning show on TV and then GO BACK and check to see you took them during another (say, first episode of Maury you take them, second you go and double-check) so that you have the reminders and rituals associated with it. If you have a reason to not want to take them, discuss that with your doctor because like, side effects are a valid reason to shift or discontinue a specific line of treatment. Lexapro doesn’t do much for me but it’s less harmful than Prozac was which is...something? Or if they aren’t really doing anything, you can maybe ask if you can discontinue those because you feel like they aren’t helping. Meds are fucking weird and work off of approximations of potential experience, of a supposed-phenomenology rather than a genuine transcendental framework of experiencing and encountering, and so sometimes meds just fucking don’t, can’t, won’t work for you and you need something else, medical or not.As for nearing our 30s together, it can be kinda scary, yeah. But ELITE WINGER JOSH BAILEY made his first All-Star game at 28! Danny Brown’s breakout album? XXX, which was called that because he made it at 30 and in part about the feeling of having had a mixtape which didn’t do numbers, didn’t get much hype, but still got a 7.6 on Pitchfork. He was like, frustrated that he wasn’t getting attention for his work that he knew he deserved, that he knew the work he was doing warranted, because he was making good music! But he didn’t give up, and he ended up getting that bag with XXX, which has lead to a pretty successful career. The thing is, not having really achieved anything “notable” by 30 doesn’t mean you won’t after, as much as Christian hegemony over meaning and the Self sucks, you can always go with Jesus and set your sights on 33 instead.Being unable to accept love is tough, and I know that I worry about accepting love because, well, accepting love can be hard. accepting it fully means being vulnerable to losing it, being vulnerable to being rejected, being vulnerable in a way that does not often give strength back in an immediate fashion. But all the same, without opening up, nothing can come from it. Accepting love is part of being able to give it, and giving love is part of being able to accept it.Feeling wounded but whole is something that sounds enticing, but it may not be as nice as it sounds, especially if it’s just projecting what you hope for. But maybe it’s something you can reach. Who knows? I can’t help much more, unfortunately, but I wish you luck.

[behindthemusicrpg]

welcome to behindthemusic, luna preston !

OUT OF CHARACTER

name // peyton

age // 21

timezone // est

pronouns // they/them

IN CHARACTER

character desired // luna preston

faceclaim // aisha dee

birthdate & zodiac sign // september third, 1990 (virgo)

sexuality & gender // cis female & bisexual

WRITING SAMPLE

Smoothing down her button up, Luna checks her phone and grimaces at the time, 3:32 AM. It became increasingly difficult to wake up on time in the morning, the only thing being more difficult was saying no to Owen when he asked to see her. However, when you invest so much of your time with the same group of people your hormones are bound to act up every now and then. It was a tale as old as time, and a primal one at that. There was not much else she could comment on. A girl has needs.

She glances over to the body in the bed before slipping out, wrapping her arms around herself, and mutters something unsavory under her breath. Luna had always loathed the winter, a summer child at heart. Her mother used to say that the girl’s bright personality was all the warmth she needed during the Ohio winters. She did truly tend to carry herself like she was the sun, filling every room she walked into instantly with energy. Her confidence and wit a force to be reckoned with, and definitely what had managed to help her fit in so well with May Queen and those who worked behind the scenes.

Luna could remember it as it were yesterday when her parents lamented over the phone– she could have done anything she set her mind to. Why not a lawyer? Doctor? Senator? You don’t have to waste your time with such nonsense, her other mother would say with the same calming tone she used when Luna was a child. The issue with overpraising a child when you raise them is that they come in to their own quicker than most. It made her laugh nowadays.

Perhaps the advice she should have taken away was, don’t shit where you eat. They were words she had heard multiple times during her career. However, Luna knows that her and Owen are both mature enough– well she’s mature, not to discredit the singer, but for Luna the bar was set impossibly high –to deal with whatever came their way. Her mind was set on the band’s future, the stars shining in her eyes at the mere thought of it. She’s resourceful. She’s smart. She’s dreaming just as much as the rest of them (maybe bigger).

She’s filled with relief to be back in her own bed. Luna never felt the need to curl up against a warm body, rather finding solace in being alone during her slumber which she so rarely got.

Minutes feel tortuously like hours as the woman tosses and turns. Perhaps she had jinxed herself with such positive thoughts. Luna never enjoyed staying idle, preferring to make use of her time. She pulls out her phone, eyes be damned by the brightness of her screen as she taps away, the words flowing out with new proposals she’d share with the band in the morning.

The devil works hard but Luna worked harder.

GOING FORWARD

Maybe for my own amusement I’d love to interact with another muse that just butt heads with Luna. She’s charming and used to being well liked by anyone she meets. I would love to see someone she doesn’t mesh with and her trying hard to get on good terms with them because the fact there’s someone doesn’t like her? She can’t deal.

On the opposite end of that, since she’s new she doesn’t have a super close bonds yet, but I’d love for a sort of ride or die friendship for her. Either a muse that can keep up with her or a muse that brings her back down to earth.

Luna was stuck in her shitty hometown for most of her life and as much as she loved it, she was glad to get out. Touring with May Queen is going to be her very first time out of the country. She approaches most things with her crazy confidence and saying she’s excited to be travelling would be a severe understatement. Will it be all it’s cracked up to be though? Is something going to go wrong and how will she deal under the pressure when she’ll be somewhere unfamiliar?

tw: drugs. I imagine Luna has a need for control, instilled on her since she was a child by her parents and eventually by herself. A headcanon I have is that she’s been on anti anxiety meds since high school, only taking them when needed rather than regularly. It can just maybe be a slippery slope.

ANYTHING ELSE

mixtape challenge