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kazumahashimoto · 9 months ago

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all my ff7 rebirth thoughts i can remember upon a first watch, split into good and bad

THE GOOD:

-AERITH'S DAMN SONG IS REALLY GOOD IT'S BEEN STUCK IN MY HEAD. I CRIED.

-both gold saucer dates with aerith were really good. cloud instantly following aerith's bit with the announcer voice shocked me so bad i started crying just a little it was so fucking cute 😭 and i think they did the conversation about zack really well!!!! i like it. i really liked how they traded off helping each other get on/off. very sweets.

-there was a scene like somewhat early on i think with aerith cloud and nanaki where aerith tries to get him to let her touch his paws cos she thinks they'll be soft and he says no. aerith tries to get cloud on her side and he says “i mean, i am curious” I LOVE how he follows her bits. IT'S SO CUTE. HE'S SO SILLY AROUND HER.

-in nanaki's date the paws thing gets referenced with cloud shaking his paw and saying “woah, they are soft” i love a callback. cloud silly moments

-barret saying in-kweh-dible

-CAIT SITH IS SO CUTE. I'M SO JEALOUS OF HIM. HE'S SO CUTE. it is unfortunately tainted by the fact they chose to mispronounced his name however.

-yuffie pretending to hit barret and barret pretending to be hit 😭<3

-BARRET’S STORY WAS DONE PERFECT. i was crying so bad. the visuals, the voice acting, the writing, it was all there. i'm so so glad they stuck the landing with this one.

-VOICE ACTING MOSTLY GOOD. nothing was so terrible i was actively pulling my hair out while it happened like with reunion, so i'm pleased. cody christian has definitely improved since last time too he's kinda lost that awkward disjointed manner of speaking sentences, which i'll always have a fondness for but he really did an incredible job here. i really like the main remake cast's new voices!!! i know the recast wasn't received well by everybody but i really think they're all doing great. the only people i really struggle with are zack, and recently reno? he sounds off. he was lacking whimsy. though we don't see him too much here anyway so shrug. ALSO I REALLY LIKED ELENA'S VOICE. i'm not sure familiar with elena as a character so i can't speak much on how she was being characterized here, but i LOVED what the actress was doing. i love all her inflections. she was always very petulant and cocky and she felt perhaps younger than she actually is? but i think that's what they were going for with her being new. anyway she was a standout for me in terms of new voices for this game.

-aerith says “for real? awesome!” at one point and while i HATE that they changed that line in reunion, the fact that aerith is mimicking zack drives me insane. she says for real at least one more time after this too i love it. i can't remember every instance of her mimicking zack but just assume i got a kick out of all of them

-cloud aerith date after falling into the pit, “you don't look like you're on a date… more like, ‘at a funeral’.” what if i died? what if i blew up right here?

-”cloud…[...]aerith… how the hell am i supposed to choose?” zack so close to realizing he can have them both

-zack cloud and aerith all being alive in the same room together for the first time and two of them are unconscious made me laugh. i stay losing i love it (genuinely it's funny i think it's good that they died ect)

-OH ZACK THROWING A FUCKING LAMP POST OR WHATEVER INTO A HELICOPTER WITHIN THE FIRST FIVE MINUTES OF THE VIDEO GAME HAD ME SCREAMING THAT SHIT WAS SO FUNNY. LIKE GODDAMN. ALRIGHT. WORK.

-”alright. follow my lead.” “look at you takin charge! i like it!” my essay in why zack is submissive,

-AERITH HUGGING CAIT. WWEWEWHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

-”QUESTION. am i a dumbass?” “i'm cetra! am i intolerant?” i love you girl.

-cloud junior reminds me of the quaxly i named cloud jr. who was birthed by my friend's quaquaval cloud strife

-blanket statement i love all of cloud and aerith's interactions really i do. even if the plot was annoying me i must admit to enjoying all their cute smiles at each other. real cute. THEY MAKE GREAT GIFSETS !

-WE ARE IN THE FUCKING CLEAR. ANGEAL STAYED DEAD. PHEW.

-zack was looking at a notice board in the slums and there was a banora white poster directly next to his head

-the end scene was real fucking cute. i love a call back. ending on cloud's dumb smiley face and “you promise?” “promise.” AWAYUGH. i like them. they're sweets.

THE BAD:

-zack. oh girl. like, admittedly i was already coming to this from the perspective of “zack lives doesn't need to be canon”, but even STILL. god THEY FUCKED IT. now let me defend my initial stance here too. zack has no narrative purpose being alive in the canon story of ff7. the story of ff7 is already a complete one full of characters that each play their own role in how things turn out in the end. zack has his role. he's there to be cloud’s SOLDIER friend he looked up to, one that saved his life and brought him where he is now. his character gets expanded in crisis core, but ultimately he's still there to die. his role is to be dead. and, looking to crisis core, he gets a full story as well. it's not to say he has no room left to grow, theoretically, but WHAT would his purpose be in the canon story of ff7 if he still lived? here the thing. fanfiction does not need to be canon. fanfic and aus and headcanons are great, they're a wonderful tool to flesh out characters more, get in their heads, it's a chance to explore “what if”s. but they don't need to be canon. just because you like a character and want to see them more does not mean they'd serve an actual narrative purpose in the canon material. there's nothing zack could really offer here, in my opinion, and clearly the writers agree because they didn't give him shit to do.

everytime we skip back over to zack, he isn't doing anything. he's looking over cloud, looking over aerith, he's talking to marlene, to biggs, to elmyra, about NOTHING. “hopes, dreams maybe? something like that.” marlene gives him Weird predictions of the future, which changes nothing. he gives biggs a pep talk, which does nothing. honestly it feels like they were just trying to buy time until they could try and prod some jealousy out of him over cloud and aerith and then the final team up with cloud against sephiroth. and they couldn't even keep him IN CHARACTER the entire time.

i have my small gripes. zack so nonchalantly messing up an angeal speech (which he should have absolutely drilled in his head at this point. hah, one of THOSE, huh.) irks me. i still don't think caleb's voice really suits him, though it was much better this time around. i think zack not realizing that there's literally no way biggs could have possibly met cloud is stupid. but the worst, the most egregious bit of mischaracterization i have ever seen, is marlene telling zack he needs to make cloud better so he can protect aerith, and zack deciding to go to hojo. are you… fucking. kidding me? zack's internal clock is messed up. sure, okay, that doesn't stop him from remembering aerith's letter where she tells him he's been gone for FOUR YEARS. GETTING EXPERIMENTED ON IN A BASEMENT. WITH CLOUD. BY HOJO. and then he just, shows up! he shows up, and he says, “pretty sure i only asked to meet hojo, not a whole platoon.” he says, “whatever. the world's about to end anyway.” do they think he's fucking stupid? do they think he's dumb? do they think zack is so, what, cocky? so sure of himself? that he can’t possibly find all the very obvious flashing warning signs that that idea makes no fucking sense? you expect me to believe zack would just go back? that he'd even consider it? that he'd put his life, CLOUD'S LIFE, AERITH'S LIFE, at risk like that? like i'm speechless. what are they DOING to him? what did this even MEAN for his character? so he finds out aerith has a thing for cloud. he stands next to cloud for a minute. he leaves. what did this add? what did this even set up? nothing. zack being alive had zero impact on the story, so why keep him around to begin with?

-on the topic of biggs, biggs! he also had no fucking purpose! and he won't shut up about it either! survivor's guilt, oh sure, but when he starts waxing poetic about how he doesn't know why he was saved, all i can think is well of course they picked you, the other choices were a woman and a fat guy. no fucking wonder they went with you. AND THEN HE DIES WITHOUT HAVING DONE ANYTHING. he literally added NOTHING to the story. him and zack are just there for hungry fans to point and go LOOK, LOOK! MY FAVORITE IS HERE AGAIN! WE’RE EATING GOOD CRUMBS TONIGHT!

-cissnei. when i tell you cissnei was the literal only new potential plotline i was looking forward to going into this, i mean that fully. and you know what? i got baited. i, too, got baited with look, look, my favorite is here again. i thought of so many different ways cissnei could impact the story, based on the short clip we got from the last trailer, with her saying “it's you!” i thought, cissnei is the only person left who knew zack and cloud simultaneously while they were both alive, besides tifa who's keeping quiet and sephiroth who's fucking with cloud on purpose. this could be so interesting. she recognized him! i'm enthralled. i get to gongaga, cissnei shows up near immediately, and she says, “wait, it's you! oh, i thought you were someone else.” and they move on. it's never brought up again. like. really? really? “i thought you were someone else.” who in the WORLD else could he possibly be. cissnei sees this scrawny, short little “ex soldier first class” running around with the dumbest, FAMOUSLY, CANONICALLY, FREQUENTLY BROUGHT UP IN THIS VERY GAME, ICONIC hair style, and she says “i thought you were someone else.” I DON'T BUY IT. CISSNEI ISN'T STUPID. like it wouldn't have even needed to change the story line. any acknowledgment that she KNOWS him would have been better than THIS. a simple “it’s you! you're still alive!” “what do you mean?” “oh, uh, i saw you on the news!” BOOM there you go, now WE know she knows him, and everyone else just thinks she recognizes him from being wanted by shinra. excellent. but, no! no in fact cissnei serves no narrative purpose beyond “oh, she fulfilled zack's wish from crisis core” and “oh, i know her!”

-the whispers were the worst fucking thing to happen to this fucking franchise. like not only are we getting the dumb “fate” bullshit (that's just there to poke fun at all the fans that wanted remake to be the original story with updated graphics), but we're also getting lost memories! in fact, we're using the whispers as explanations for things that did not need answering from the original game now too! aerith tells tifa about her missing memories, and tifa says she thinks that must be happening to her too. and i suppose i don't doubt that, given the whispers exist in this iteration of the story, tifa would THINK that that's what's happening to her, but what bothers me is that there's an ANSWER. if you're a new fan and don't know how this goes originally, you're going to be thinking “oh, it's the whispers” too. but there was no REASON for there to BE an answer. tifa thinks she's crazy. tifa thinks SHE'S the one in the wrong here, it can't possibly be cloud, but she's SO SURE she doesn't remember him there. there's so much turmoil there, especially as more and more signs point to tifa being right. but here, the answer is whispers. alright, guess tifa's memory is just fucked cos of the whispers. nothing to do about it!

i believe, due to the fact that whispers fucking with memories is something they kept bringing up, that everytime you think “the characters should already know this at this point” the answer is whispers! isn't that fun? isn't it Fun that we're getting plot convenient memory loss on EVERYBODY? honestly by the time they added a third fucking type of whisper i was fully convinced their literal only purpose is to drive the plot in whatever direction the writers feel like at any given moment. we need this character to do x, but how? well the answer is whispers. if EVERYONE is a puppet, what makes cloud so special huh? they're all at the whispers whims. don't seem to be defying much fate right now!

-on the topic of memory loss, yeah the only reason cloud remembers zack this early is so we could get that team up at the end. it's cheap. like, in theory the way they did it makes enough sense, he sees the room at the inn and remembers that he was with someone in there. (the conversation he remembers is also grossly out of character for zack at that point and seriously misleads you on what was such a somber conversation initially but uhhhh let's call it cloud's imagination huh.) alright, he sees the river flowing down the mountain and remembers he watched someone drown, must be zack! makes sense. and then, tifa agrees? yes, he drowned. oh, we should tell aerith. we should, but let me, and let’s keep it a secret. cloud just remembered he had a best friend, he says they were so close, how could he forget, he just remembered that he watched him die. and tifa tells him to keep it a secret? like i understand WHY but isn’t that a bit rude? i don’t know that she'd actually go about it like that. regardless it's getting REAL tiring how they keep adding in scenes early. they did it with the forest scene with aerith in remake and they're doing it here too. IT'S RUINING THE NARRATIVE FLOW!!!!!!

-um. no rocket town? we get cid with no rocket town? like picking up yuffie and vinny different from the original doesn't Super bother me, i think they did it well enough that it's not really worth noting for me, but this is quite the direction for cid. they've sucked all the misogyny right out of him and took out the area where he acts the absolute worst. i've never liked cid! but this just feels like. damn they didn't even wanna TRY getting into cid keeping this woman in his house doing all his chores cos she feels indebted to him. feels a bit selective to me, they had no problem making women squeal at the thought of hojo getting them pregnant, using women as bubbly set dressing, having cloud put a dress on and pretend to be a woman to trick a man into sleeping with him. oh but, cid is just a hair too far. we still need him for the travel though, so, welcome aboard! maybe the whispers made him forget.

-OH MY GOD THEY DIDN'T HAVE CLOUD SAY “did sephiroth… do this?” LIKE!!!!!!!! dude that's like if they decided zack didn't need to say “me? gongaga” to cloud when he asks where he's from. ARE YOU KIDDING ME.

-why did they decide shinra flew tifa out to corel? shinra, who wanted no survivors after the fire. shinra, who sent a full platoon after zack to kill him after he escaped. oh, but, in this one the residents in nibelheim all know that it burnt down? nibelheim, the town that's meant to be full of actors. the residents that are supposed to tell you “what an awful thing to say” when you explain the town burned down five years ago. oh but now it's a town dedicated to helping those with mako poisoning. right.

-i know damn well a furry did not design that galian beast WHERE IS HIS FUR. WHY ARE YOU WHITE. WHY IS HE NOT OURPLE. he looks too much like vinny, which might seem like a silly complaint but given how much he usually Doesn't look like him it kind of feels like they're treating us like we're dumb, like we couldn't possibly understand that that's vinny unless it really looks like him. not a fan.

-sephiroth didn’t even chuck the materia at cloud and then do a flip and fly away. girl you're missing all your most iconic scenes. at this point cloud's not gonna say let's mosey.

-what was the point of roche if they were just gonna essentially kill him off? i hate to sound like a broken record but girl what's the point of having all these characters when they add NOTHING. AND THEN THEY DIE.

-alright i wasn't playing the video game so maybe this was actually INCREDIBLY COMPELLING GAMEPLAY but why were half the puzzles in every area “move a big box very slowly to a location” like. damn no wonder they put that thing in the demo you're gonna be doing it in every area for the next 20 hours

-good christ the ending was so convoluted and confusing. i already don't really care for timeline convergences as a plot point, so of course this really isn’t for me, but even still it was so frustrating and hard to follow. and i think they wanted it to be that way, but that doesn't make it interesting? that doesn't make it thought provoking or compelling, it makes it frustrating and hard to follow. AND MEANINGLESS. AERITH STILL DIED. like they keep going on and on about defying fate, doing whatever, they're taking charge of destiny and whatever. oh, here comes zack to help us fight. and he’s gone. oh, here comes aerith to help us fight, and we're mourning. not cloud though! i really don't get it.

-aerith DIES!!!!!!!! THIS IS A GOOD THING I WAS WORRIED THEY'D PUSSY OUT. and well they kinda did! we don't get the iconic scene of cloud putting her in the water? like her materia falls into the water OK but that's it. it's just cloud holding her and he tells her to wake up and she does and they smile. i tell ya what, it makes a real pretty gifset! and that's it!

-really and truly what bothers me the most about this all is that to so many people, THIS is what the story of ff7 is. to many new fans, this is the only version that matters. they don't care to go back and see what originally happened because the game is old and looks “bad”. no one's getting mad at dissidia for not following exact canon and keeping everyone alive. it's not a matter of everything needing to be 100% accurate all the time. it's the fact that this IS the story of final fantasy 7 in current times. this is what people are currently viewing as default. but it's fucking up the storyline, plot progression, narrative flow, characterization, character importance. and for what? a story that's nearly impossible for someone to fully understand without having prior knowledge of the original, and adds a plot device that mocks fans that just wanted the original's story with updated graphics? that's what bothers me most.

#IT'S PAST MIDNIGHT I NEED TO SLEEP I'M NOT CHECKING FOR ERRORS RN o7 #ff7r spoilers #ff #longpost

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astoldbyjo · 1 year ago

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Day Whatever

06/25/2023

I never should have wrote "Day 1" as the title of my first entry when I knew this was not going to be an everyday thing for me, even though I wanted it to be. I've decided to name this entry as "Day Whatever" while I try to come up with something more clever.

It has been 5 months since the last time I wrote down my thoughts. A lot has happened since then but nothing of great significance that would warrant me to write something about how I finally have it all figured out.

Because I haven't.

But that isn't what this is going to be about.

Last Friday, I was having a conversation with my colleague about a guy I am currently talking to after seeing him post that he was assigned to cover an event which I wanted to go to. For purposes of maintaining anonymity, I'm going to be calling this guy, "The Writer" and my colleague, "The Frustrated Psychiatrist".

The Writer works for an established publishing company in the country. It says on his author profile that he mainly writes about lifestyle and entertainment and does movie reviews too. He seems to get invited to a lot of events, including movie premieres, and travels a lot because of his job. But everything I know about his job is only a result of extensive research (finding him on his company's website) and background check (stalking his Instagram profile). Other than telling me how busy he is with work or showing me the view from his office, he doesn't really talk about it.

Neither do I though. I'm not even sure he knows what I do. (As I write this, I'm starting to think he may not be that into me considering that he has not shown any interest in finding out about what I did for a living haha. Oh well.)

But this entry is not about The Writer. It's about the conversation I had with The Frustrated Psychiatrist and what I realized from it.

I was talking to The Frustrated Psychiatrist about The Writer, more particularly, his job. I was telling him how I would kill to have a job like that if I had enough talent and connections. This is not to say that The Writer probably landed that job due to connections. I've read some of his work and the man does have skills. I'm coming from the perspective of someone who graduated with a degree outside of Journalism or Communication and is currently working in a different field of work far from professional writing. If I wanted to pursue a career in writing at this point of my life, it would take a lot. And I believe connections could help. They always do. But how should I know? I don't have any.

I don't know if writing is something I could pursue as a career or if it's something I'm actually good at. But I do know that I've always been fond of it. I know being fond of something does not necessarily mean that it's something you should pursue as a career. But it's something I'm fond of - and that's a start.

I've always lied about my passions in life, to myself and anyone who ever asks me. I've always said that I was very passionate about studying law only to realize that I've only been saying that to convince myself into thinking that I liked the career I was pursuing.

I was hanging out with two of my friends at my place when we started talking about how impossible it is to make money off of your passions. While I agree with that, I also recognize that there are a few people in the world who have such privilege. Then the question came up, "What is your passion?"

Friend 1: Drawing Friend 2: Video editing Me: ... Writing

I immediately realized that I lied. But why was it the first thing that came to mind? It's not like I've written anything other than essays, speeches, and tear-jerking birthday greetings for my loved ones. But I'd be lying again if I said that I didn't enjoy writing any of them. (I’m having a great time writing this entry right now too.)

I remember writing a letter for my Dad which I shared on Facebook. He had just died and as a coping mechanism, I resorted to writing everything I wasn't able to tell him. The comment section was filled with our relatives telling me about how much the letter made them cry. One of my aunts even shared the post with the caption saying, "The beautiful last words of a daughter to her father".

We went to dinner with one of my Dad's cousins a few days after my father's cremation. I don't remember him asking if I was a reader but I do remember him asking about what kind of books I read. He said he could tell that I liked to read based on the construction of the letter that I wrote for Dad. And I did. I loved reading. I still do but not as much as when I was a kid. But I think that's only because I don't have the luxury of time to read any books anymore.

I don't know if I'm any good at writing but it's these tiny indicators such as occasional compliments, making people cry, being asked to do somebody else's essay homework, and being the person entrusted to prepare report narratives at work that make me think that maybe, just maybe, I am sort of good at it.

And maybe, just maybe, I've found my passion.

… So what the fuck do I do now?

The Frustrated Psychiatrist says, “Go for it!”

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fanfictasia · 9 months ago

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tags from @im-no-jedi which I HAD to put here BECAUSE I AGREE WITH EVERY SINGLE ONE!!!!

And like I didn't mean to write a whole essay about this, but -

ASDFJALSKDJF;LASDFJ;ASLDJ I’m so glad someone else finally noticed. Hunter’s such a mess now. Like. I know why he’s doing this, but to see that he’s doing it??? It says everything about the type of relationship Hunter and Omega have.

When someone you love is hurt, you don’t work yourself to the ground to help them if you mutually love each other, because you know they would never want that from you. But Hunter? He doesn’t know that, because of the hell Crosshair put him through, and the way his self-worth issues have gone through the roof since this all started. And not to mention how Omega treats him. He’s doing this, because he knows that’s what she expects of him. I genuinely cannot even say nearly enough about the sheer unhealthiness of their relationship. Like???????? YOU DON’T DO THAT she’s not worth more just because she’s a kid!! THEY’RE KIDS TOO! Hunter’s like. What. Ten years old now??? He ought to be in middle school. It’s so easy to forget that.

And yeah, Hunter’s the one who needs rescuing. Not anybody else. He’s their leader. The one who holds them together. They’re not even a squad anymore. Idk what they are, but you can hardly even call them a family considering the shambles they’re in now.

I’m so, so scared to see what’s going to happen to Hunter’s mental state. He never talks to anyone, and nobody is ever there to help him. They demand the impossible of him, and he bends over backward nonstop in a frantic, failed attempt to please everybody, and nobody cares how he feels. That’s been repeated time and time again and I just AKSDJF;LAKSDJF;LAKSD

I am SO scared to know how Hunter’s gonna react when he realizes Crosshair and Omega made it out without him. All he’s been trying for months and risking Wrecker’s life over and over so many times for, even if it’s so obvious he wants to just rest, was to get her back. To get her out of there, but in the end? If they’d just settled down like they wanted, she’d have made it back and everything he and Wrecker have gone through has been for NOTHING. Like. Epic failure right there.

And let’s be honest here – I have NO idea who can actually help Hunter. It’d hafta be a joint effort of everybody who ever hurt him – Echo, Crosshair, Omega, Tech assuming he’s going to get his goggle-less self out of whatever hole Hemlock dumped him into. Like. Wrecker is maybe the only person who hasn’t hurt Hunter irreparably?? And I’m very afraid Omega being back, with her overwhelming pushy-ness, is going to force Hunter into YET ANOTHER long series of things he has zero consent in. And inevitably, he’s never gonna say anything, and just. JASKDLFJASDLKFJASDL;KFJASLDKSA

I don’t exactly trust Crosshair with him, but… idk. I want to think Crosshair’s genuinely remorseful and might try to make up for what he’s done but that could just as well be wishful thinking… his kindness to Omega says nothing. We already know he’s more protective/kind to her than of the own brothers he grew up with.

ANYWAY THE POINT IS CAN SOMEBODY JUST HUG HUNTER PLZ HE NEEDS IT

PS: Excuse my meltdown, but I can literally cry over Hunter’s terribly screwed up life all day and night so –

Hunter is so obsessed with rescuing Omega, he doesn't notice *he* needs rescuing, too, in a different sense. His prison is not literal like iron bars, it's in his head, limiting his options, diminishing the empathy for the rest of his squad. He's a fallen Paladin who hasn't caught up to his own fall yet; still holding up his belief in family values while sacrificing family members repeatedly. Chasing after Omega isn't even about *her* anymore, it's about the idea she represents. There is this illusion that the family will be fixed and everything will be okay once Hunter has successfully rescued her. That's of course a delusion. Hunter won't rescue anybdoy, least of all himself.

Anyway, I bet Crosshair and Omega will rescue Hunter, not the other way round.

#star wars #the bad batch #bad batch #hunter #hunter needs a hug #hunter deserves better #i'll break if he dies but like i think he'd be happier if he did die so idk how to feel about that #he needs someone to protect him for a change #he's destroying himself trying to protect everyone else and it's not sustainable #crosshair #omega #someone adopt hunter plz

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littlemissnoname13 · 4 years ago

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Hello can I request where draco in fourth year having a crush on a hufflepuff reader but acts as arsehole cuz he doesn’t know how to show affection , leading it to her avoiding him which makes him depressed about what did he do wrong ?

Hi love. Thanks for the request.💕

I love writing Draco x hufflepuff!reader stories! I am a sucker for a slytherin x hufflepuff pairing.

I added a few extra details here and here. Hope you like it. X

Hopeful (Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader)

Word count: 2100 sorry got a bit carried away. 😅

Warnings: None. Soft!Draco being an absolute blubbering idiot.

Draco’s thoughts are written in green

Spring had arrived.

It could be felt in the cool and gentle zephyr that made the shiny new leaves on top of the once barren and dead trees rustle.

Daisies were in full bloom and the wind had managed to carry some of the petals away—making them fall to the ground, acting like a harbinger of the fast approaching summer.

Draco couldn’t be bothered if it was spring, or autumn or winter.

In that particular moment, all he wanted to do was get away from the Slytherin common room and Pansy Parkinson.

He had taken her to the Yule ball and things had sort of fizzled out afterwards. He couldn’t get himself to see her as anything other than a friend.

Having ran all the way to a far and secluded area of the Hogwarts grounds, Draco leaned against a tree trunk and panted heavily in an attempt to catch his breath.

“Are you—are you alright?”

Your voice startled him and he quickly stood up straight to look around.

You were sitting criss-crossed on the grass with your transfigurations textbook opened on your lap. Your shirt sleeves were rolled up and your yellow and black tie hugged very loosely around your neck.

“Fine.” He muttered as he slowly sat down noticing a single daisy tucked behind your ears.

After sitting there in complete silence for the next few minutes, he finally spoke up.

“What are you even doing here anyway?”

“Just wanted some peace and quiet to be honest.” You said, shrugging your shoulders. “It’s a beautiful day.”

Draco just hummed in response and kept staring at the daisy in your hair that swayed lightly with the breeze.

“What?” You asked when you noticed.

“You have—you have a twig stuck in your hair.”

“A daisy.” You corrected him as you closed your book and moved a bit closer to where he was sitting. “It’s a daisy.”

“Yeah I know that. I’m not stupid.” He said quickly. “But why?”

"Well, Daisies are essentially two flowers blended together in complete harmony." You said pulling the daisy out of your free falling hair before putting your hand forward to hand it to him.

“And?” Draco reluctantly took the flower from you and blinked his eyes in confusion.

“They are said to resemble innocence—true love even.” You explained getting comfortable next to him.

“You believe in all that?” Draco scoffed, twirling the flower between his index finger and thumb. He couldn’t tell if the floral fragrance was coming from you or the air but it made him slightly queasy nonetheless.

“Merlin. No.” You scrunched up your nose. “It just gives me hope I guess.”

Draco gave you another hum in response. For someone who came up with snarky and sometimes witty comments on the spot, he found himself weirdly tongue tied.

“I know you were hiding from Pansy by the way.” You remarked, making a small smile pull at his lips.

“How come?”

“What do you mean how come?” You rolled your eyes. “Everyone can see that she is obsessed with you for some reason that I personally can't seem to comprehend.”

~~~~~

The next day during potions class, Draco slowly opened his book and started to absently doodle on it with his quill while Snape talked about the upcoming potions essay that had to be done in pairs.

Draco knew he should be paying attention but he just couldn’t get the interaction between you two out of his head.

And just when he took a deep breath and decided to focus, a familiar scent started to fill his lungs up.

Fruity, almost spicy notes of strawberry and pink grapefruit mixed with gardenias, vanilla and musk. It felt like someone had tossed a huge bouquet into the room.

He knew it was you without even bothering to look up from my book.

"Ah, Miss y/l/n. Late again." Snape muttered. “Five points from Hufflepuff house.”

You quietly sat down next to your friend with your head hung low and Draco fought an unexplainable urge to give you a hug.

"The essay must be done in pairs.." Snape said.

Great.

"Ronald Weasley and Gregory Goyle."

This is exactly what I needed right now. Thanks Snape.

"Blaise Zabini and Hannah Abott."

The last thing I need is someone weighing my essay down.

"Draco Malfoy and y/n y/l/n."

What?

You turned back to look at Draco and gave him an apologetic smile and he didn't understand why you kept smiling at him. It's not like the both of you had suddenly formed an unlikely bond with each other.

Draco scowled at you in return and quickly raised his hand. "May I work on my essay alone?"

"No. You may not Mr. Malfoy."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Draco had been studying in the library for almost an hour. Because you were quietly sitting next to him, his elbows and knees slightly brushed yours every few seconds and as much as he hated to admit it, He secretly enjoyed it.

Contrary to yesterday, Draco was trying very hard to make a conversation with you. You seemed somewhat offended that he had asked Snape to work on the essay alone.

“I am happy to do most of the writing if you can look up all the ingredients.” You offered.

You don’t have to do all of that yourself. I am happy to help with the writing too. Is what he should have said.

“Fine whatever.” He said instead as he reached for a copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.

That night, Draco stayed up tossing and turning in his bed before giving up on getting any sleep for the night.

He lethargically walked towards his dresser and put his hands in his blazer pocket pulling out the now dried and pressed daisy from the other day.

Taking a deep breath, he put the flower in between the pages of his copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.

You were drawing him in, undoing him, unraveling him even.

He knew that.

But did you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Draco! Open up."

His head jolted towards the door and He quickly walked over to open it.

You stood on the other end with books tucked in your arms, wearing your denim shorts and a plain white tank top—looking like summer personified.

The more time he spent with you, the more he started to notice your quirks. Like that the way your skin glowed as the days got warmer.

Compliment her. Do it. It’s not Difficult.

“Did you do something different to your hair?”

“Uh—no why are you asking.”

“It just looks a bit strange.” He commented wanting to slap himself.

"Okay, well are you going to let me in?" You questioned, wondering why he was blocking the way and asking you about your hair.

Why did you have to wear that God damned tank top-

"Sorry?" You asked stepping inside making his cheeks burn when he realized he wasn’t meaning to say that out loud.

"Just shut up and get back to working in the essay or whatever it is that you were doing." Draco grumbled feeling embarrassed as he grabbed some fresh parchment.

Okay. Focus. The Strengthening solution requires...

You stretched a little and pushed your hair away from your face.

several days to mature...

"Staring is rude Draco." You suddenly interrupted his thoughts as you set your eyes on his—peering right into his soul.

Draco felt like he was giving you some sort of power over him and the possibility of you using that power and leaving him heartbroken made him feel so very vulnerable.

He couldn't take the vulnerability a second longer.

"I don't think we should study together anymore." He blurted quickly standing up. “It's for the best.”

"Huh?" You stood up contorting your face in total confusion—wondering just what you had done to piss him off. "What's wrong Draco? Did I do something wrong?"

"Leave. Now." He muttered with his teeth clenched.

Please don’t go.

"Just go—leave please."

You couldn’t help but feel a sharp sting burning your insides as you gathered all the books that were on the floor and ran made your way towards hufflepuff dormitories with tears threatening to flood your eyes.

As soon as you ran off, he punched his wall and muttered out the plethora of angry curses when the impact bruised his knuckles.

~~~~~~~~~~~

During the following week, Draco failed to show up to any of your shared classes after you had refused to talk to him after what happened.

Even if you did manage to see him walking down the halls or walking with Crabbe and Goyle, you noticed that he looked like he hadn’t eaten or slept in days.

On a Tuesday, Draco looked at the Hufflepuff table during breakfast and when you caught his eye, all you did was look away.

Everyone at school had their opinions about him—most of them weren’t good opinions.

But when you were with him under that tree, he seemed different. His smirk was more playful than condescending. It managed to charm you in a way.

You took a final bite of your toast and gathered all your books, walking to your Potions class.

His seat still remained empty and you shook your head, trying to snap away from the thoughts of him as you flipped open your book.

Only it wasn’t your book.

You didn’t remember writing on the margins and making annotations on your book.

Running your fingertips along the pages, you flipped to the very first page of the book.

D. Malfoy was written in ridiculously neat handwriting and you shook your head when you realized that you had grabbed his book with you that day by mistake.

And just when you were about to put his book away, something fell from in between the pages and fell onto your desk.

It was the daisy you had woven into your hair the other day. Even in its dried state, the petals remained intact like her had done something to keep them that way.

When class was finally over, you made a quick beeline towards the slytherin dungeons, bumping into people along the way.

~~~~~~~~~

“Some hufflepuff girl is standing outside the dungeons asking to see you.” Theo shrugged when he saw Draco at the common room sofa. “Says it's urgent.”

He felt terrified yet so elated as he quickly stood up and made his way outside.

“Here’s your book.” You said taking a step towards him. “You never told me what’s wrong by the way.”

“Thank you.” Draco quickly took his book from you and stared at the ground.

“Why did you stop talking to me y/n?”

“You told me to go away—If I remember correctly.” You said shaking your head at him. “Tell me Draco, what’s wrong?”

“Everything.” He said quietly, meeting your gaze.

"What do you mean?"

"You make me feel all weak.....and smiley...and I hate it." He looked at you with agitation.

"Weak?" You ran your fingers through your hair in confusion.

"And your ridiculous white tank top." Draco half yelled.

"What's wrong with my top?" You asked, raising your voice slightly as if you had had enough of this.

"Nothing is wrong except for the fact that you look stunning in it.” He blurted involuntarily. "It is absolutely distracting when one is trying to study!."

He watched you open your mouth in shock and close it. Before he could spend another minute trying to solve the riddle that was your expression, you grabbed him by his tie and placed your lips on his.

His brows furrowed as he kissed you back tenderly. Tasting the sweetness of your lips—pouring out every bit of suppressed passion and adoration he felt for you with his lips.

There was something so strange and euphoric about finally kissing someone he had been longing to kiss for so long.

Something so magical about holding the person that fits perfectly into his arms.

Freaking Finally.

He was slightly disappointed when you slowly backed away, but the glow on your skin and the glossy ness in your eyes made him smile.

"I guess I'll leave before I realize the consequences of what I have just done." You said softly as you held his face and placed a small peck on his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, you found a tiny box and an envelope on your desk when you woke up. Your roommate let you know that Draco Malfoy had stopped by late last night when you were asleep and half begged and half threatened her to leave the box on your desk.

You slowly opened the box and found a bedazzled and whimsical looking daisy necklace, encrusted with gems.

A Daisy for my daisy.

You give me hope.

- D.M

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco Taglist: @dracomalfoyisindahouse @dracomalfoys-wh0re @maybesandohnos @justfangirlthingies @desiredmalfoy @dlmmdl @trainintersection @fa-me @dracoswhore007 @paulina1998 @wh0re4blaise @marrymetheonott @quacksonsssandtea @letoof @rvaldez7569 @loloo22 @emma67 @berriemalfoy @thegaudess @itchywitch33 @louweasleymalfoy @lunar0se10 @savagelysarcasticslytherin @fleursbabe @teawineaddict @thebitchybeatle @malfoyxxdraco23 @fantasyfairysworld @trashyvicks @h0ggyw0ggyh0gwarts @l0vely-lupin @linasylveon @amwitherspoon @the-bisexual-bitch

Love you all sm. (if i was unable to tag you, please look into your privacy settings)

Fell free to send me reuests. My other stories can be found here.

Join my taglist here.

- violet-Anne

#harry potter #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy #slytherin #draco lucius malfoy #draco one shot #draco x hufflepuff!reader #draco fluff

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goddess-evelle · 3 years ago

Text

We are here for you

Someone requested this:

Yoo thought of a idea hear me out

Poly dream team x fm y/n

Okay so y/n is having a really bad week like really really bad, and when she gets home to the boys she has like the biggest mental breakdown, she throws things, she shouts a whole load of crap, once she is done shouting and breaking things she hudles in a ball and starts crying.

The boys try to calm her down while also dogging all the things she is throwing they try yelling her name but she can't hear them since she in like her 'own little world'. They leave her for a bit and they have a little talk to try and figure out what happened to her.

By the time she has calmed down she talks to the boys and it turn into a really heartwarming cute ass fluff.

Please can you do this pleaseeee😖

Warnings: Just fluffy

Dream team x fem reader

Okay, so I am not the best at writing fluff, but I gave it a try. <3

Your head banged on the table in front of you. You just got home from college. Your professor had given yet another essay. You were so tired of written essays. You had 5 essays to do, and while you had 2 of them started; they were so much trouble to write. You just wanted to lay in bed for 5 minutes minimum; you just needed to close your eyes for 5 minutes. You had been working so much; barely sleeping so that you could take advantage of the few hours the night provided. Your mind had been too busy thinking of themes to write about. The professor really thought that having a book helped; that only mad you want to slap him. Of course, it’s easier with a book; if he hadn’t given 3 books for 3 of the essays. The problem was that your other 2 professors thought the same thing giving you 2 more books to do the other two essays. You rolled your eyes as you tried to think of how to start the essay. Your eyes lighted up as a thought ran through your mind. Your hands moved quickly on the keyboard as you chased the idea squeezing the juice, and writing as much as you could. Your mind flowed as you wrote for what felt like hours. Your hands becoming numb by the time you finished.

You let out a sigh as you stretched limbs separating as your bones cracked. You looked at the hour 5:45 am you hadn’t even realized it was that early; you started at 11:13 pm working on the essay, so naturally you were a little tired, but you knew better than going to sleep. Thanks to those extra hours you were able to complete two essays which meant you only needed to finish two more, and you would be free to do whatever you wanted. You headed to the kitchen to make yourself some coffee. However, when you reached the kitchen; the boys were standing right next to the coffee maker. You try to breathe as a you try to relax; spending many hours in front of the computer had given you a migraine. You close your eyes tightly as you gulped making your way to the coffee maker. Before you could even touch it; George’s hand came to stop you.

“You can’t just drink coffee all day; you have to sleep” George starts, and you can only roll your eyes. You didn’t have time for this; you just wanted to finish your essays you already had 3 done. You just needed an extra cup of coffee to finish the other 2 essays. You did not have time to be talking right now you had to finish your essays.

“I just want a cup of coffee; it’s no big deal. I just need to finish two of my essays” You say trying to keep your voice low; even though your mind rushed with angry thoughts. Why did they have to interfere in your life? It annoyed you; they didn’t even know how it felt to be surrounded by essays and projects.

“You took three cups of coffee yesterday; I saw you. You have to sleep; you’ve been drinking coffee none stop, and you are not even eating properly” Dream spoke up this time only making you angrier.

“I can’t sleep yet!” You yelled out before being able to stop yourself. “I have two more essays to finish; I just need to keep going, and I will be fine. I will eat after I finish them. I just really need to finish it.” You say voice desperate for some coffee your eyes could barely stay opened. The boys knew what a lack of sleep could do to a person that is why they tried to let you be, but it had gone too far. They had tried to make you eat something, but you refused saying that you didn’t have time. They were scared that you would get sick for not taking care of yourself properly.

“Y/n just please take a break. Your other two essays are due Friday, right? It’s Tuesday; I’m sure you have enough time to finish them.” Sapnap tried to help, but you only saw red.

“I have to finish them now! My mind is just working so fast; I finished three essays already. My mind is just flowing with ideas. I need to finish them now.” You said voice getting louder and louder as they didn’t give you what you wanted.

“We will not let you go back to writing unless you sleep for at least 8 hours” Dream started.

“And- you have to eat at least three meals during the day” Sapnap added trying to persuade you into giving in. You didn’t have any of it; eyes seeing red as you throw your coffee mug to the ground. The ceramic breaking instantly.

“I will not go to sleep! I just need coffee, and I will be good to go! Just get out of my fucking way!” You were completely yelling, and you could only think of the coffee. You pushed pass George as you got to the coffee maker only for Dream to snap it from your hold. Strong arm holding the coffee maker so that you couldn’t use it.

“The fuck are you doing?! Give it! I need the coffee” You said as you yanked the coffee maker towards you; Dream however, did not let go. A few seconds passed as you tried to get the coffee maker; only for Dream’s hand to slip as the coffee maker came crashing to the ground. You stared angrily at the shattered coffee maker that was pretty much useless now. Your body had taken too much as you slide to the ground looking at the coffee maker. Your mind rushed with thoughts as you began crying; the stress from college being too much. You cried to your heart’s content; you looked at Dream before standing from your spot on the floor saying:

“Why the fuck would you do that? Are you fucking stupid?” The words leaving your lips without a second thought as you confronted Dream; now coming chest to chest with him as you looked up at him rage taking over your actions. Your mind being too caught up on the stress to even think. Dream talked to you, but you didn’t even hear what he said.

“I’ve had enough of this. You will go to the bedroom, and you will sleep! I do not care what you want you have to sleep” Dream spoke to you his words being rough as he talked to you. He was done with this he could not let you treat yourself this way; you were hurting yourself for some stupid essays. You moved closer to him as your mind is blank; not even a single thought of what he just said. You knew he was talking, but your mind was too tired to pay attention.

“Y/n please, we don’t want you to get hurt. You could get sick” Sapnap tried, but before he could finish George moved towards you putting a hand on your cheek finally gaining your attention as he said “Exactly, what good are you if you get sick now? You won’t even be able to finish the essays. Just take a break; go sleep, and eat something.” Your eyes widened as you realized what they were saying; they were right; you could get sick, and then you wouldn’t be able to finish the essays. You gave George a small nod as he took you to the bedroom to get you to sleep.

“I swear to god. She always does what George tells her to.” Sapnap grunted being slightly jealous of George’s ability to make you obey him. Dream laughed at Sapnap’s words knowing it was true. George knew how to get you to follow his words.

You opened your eyes to find the boys looking at you. Sapnap had a bowl of food in his hand. While Dream had a water bottle. You sat up as Sapnap handed you the food.

“Thank you” you said, but your mind rushed with what happened earlier. “I am sorry about earlier; I didn’t mean to be rude. I just- I’m just stressed” You said trying to explain yourself.

“We know; it’s okay. We are not mad at you; we just want you to take care of yourself. We love you so much; we don’t want anything bad happening to you.” George said while he engulfed you in a hug.

“We are here to help. You can talk to us about whatever you want. We love you so much; we are here for you” Sapnap said holding your hand. Dream bent down to give you a kiss, and the three of you laid in bed as the boys watched you eat some much-needed food. The night ended with you finishing your two essays as the boys cuddled, and kissed you until you all fell asleep.

#dream x reader #dream team #dream team x reader #sapnap fluff #sapnap x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dream fluff #georgenotfound fluff #georgenotfound x reader

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bettsfic · 4 years ago

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Hi betts! I hope you’re doing alright and that your semester is wrapping up smoothly. I have a question about genre, I guess? I’ll preface this with the fact that I am not a writer or lit person, but just an enthusiastic reader. But as I’ve been on Tumblr and TikTok (in this case BookTok), I’ve noticed that it’s a lot of the same kinds of books that people get obsessed over. Largely, SFF written by women and often in “new adult.” I’m thinking of V. E. Schwab, Leigh Bardugo, etc. I’ve read a number of these books and enjoyed some of them quite a lot, but they’ve never captivated me the way they do some. That’s fine, people have different tastes. But after being served yet another TikTok about this same category of book, I kinda realized that for some reason they just don’t feel that adult to me. Which is weird because they typically deal with very adult themes. Some are super sexual or violent and the like, but the way they’re written doesn’t feel mature to me. Even The Poppy Wars, which is very adult, falls into this category for me (I did enjoy this one, though). I’ve tried to interrogate this for bias, especially since I know a lot of people like them because they are written by women, (mostly) feature more diversity, and have large female audiences. But then I think about which books did feel adult, but fall in similar genres: N. K. Jesimin and Ursula Le Guin come to mind (even her youth fiction feels more adult to me). So I guess I’m curious what you feel makes a writing style more mature versus simply the content? Why is it that SFF, while often depicting adult events, doesn’t come across as mature? I guess my frustration is that it’s one of my favorite genres, but the recommendations I’m getting across many folks just...isn’t the SFF I want. How does one distinguish between these? Idk if I’ve expressed this well and I definitely am not trying to judge people. I’m just looking for a certain atmosphere in my reading that I find rarely.

i’m so excited i have an answer to this. so first i want to say, i experience this also and it’s why i struggle to get through a lot of books. it’s why i love the secret history but couldn’t get twenty pages into if we were villains, even though everyone told me they had a lot in common. even if the description of a book is compelling and the story is very much to my taste, and even if the writing is totally competent, i’ve found that sometimes there’s just something lacking that makes me set a book down and never pick it back up.

i was thrilled to find there’s term for this: the implied author.

the implied author was coined by wayne c. booth in his book the rhetoric of fiction which, while dense, is a really fantastic read (if you’ve been keeping up with my newsletter you know how feral i am for this book). as a blanket definition, the implied author is the space that exists between the narrator and the writer. when you read something, you can’t make any factual conclusions about the writer (the author is dead and all that), but the narration often tips you off to the idea that the consciousness behind the writing is wiser and knows more than the narrator.

that’s a very condensed version of booth’s definition, which takes up like 40 pages. here forward are some conclusions i’ve drawn based on it.

when the space between the narrator and implied author is narrow, some of us as readers tend to get bored pretty quickly. it’s what you’re referring to as maturity. however, when that space is wide, when it’s clear that the implied author is much, much bigger than the narration, that’s when i’m willing to sink my teeth into something. the wider that distance, the more i’m happy to ignore things like syntactical clumsiness or poor grammar. i would follow a good implied author into hell.

for example, i could write a story from the point of view of a violent abuser. if you were to read it, you wouldn’t be able to say for certain that i, the writer, was not a violent abuser also. but you would be able to tell via the implied author whether or not there is an awareness of the abuse, whether it’s being written with intentionality. not morality, mind you, but artistic purpose.

the implied author has an idiosyncratic relationship to the reader. sometimes depending on the complexity of the work and the critical reading skills of the reader, the presence of the implied author can be invisible. this is the catalyst, imo, to a significant amount of the present morality discourse. many (if not all) purity officers and antis don’t have the reading skills to be able to see the implied author, or that the moral trespasses that occur in fiction are written intentionally and for a purpose. they believe that anything depicted in fiction is advocating for or promoting that which it’s depicting.

lolita is kind of the ultimate classic example of the inability of some readers to see the implied author. nabokov even has a fictional preface from the pov of a scholar doing research, flat-out telling us that humbert is a bad guy and Do Not Trust Him. and yet, lolita has been misinterpreted and vilified for decades now.

in that same vein, the implied author is the reason that some stories put a bad taste in our mouths. it’s how we reach the conclusion that a story is racist or sexist or homophobic outside the literal depictions of racism, sexism, and homophobia. how can you witness racism taking place in a story and know that it’s speaking to the experience of racism and not advocating for racism? that’s the presence of the implied author. sometimes, though, you can’t tell. sometimes a writer tries to speak to the experience of something and fails at making clear their own awareness. or sometimes, they’re just not aware at all.

in fanfiction, the implied author takes place, in part, in the tags. i remember stumbling upon a fic written by a purity officer which depicted an extremely unhealthy, non-negotiated power dynamic. and none of it was tagged. i had no evidence the author was aware that they were even writing something “problematic.” obviously i support their right to depict whatever kind of relationship they want for whatever reason they want, but i did find it a bit off-putting, that this person who was a known harasser in fandom had no seeming understanding that they were writing the very kind of fic they were rallying against.

but, you know, my hands aren’t clean either. until the MFA, i was a very poor reader. for example, in 2010 i read the hunger games for the first time. in 2020 i re-read the series on my kindle, where all my annotations from 2010 had been saved, and so i got to see all my glaring misinterpretations of the text. every time katniss has to get dolled up in the capitol and made beautiful, i left a note like “ugh,” because i thought all depictions of performative femininity were Bad. even though thg is a YA book and i was an honors student in college, i was still unable to see that katniss’s beautifying was commentary on consumerism. i was oblivious to collins’ implied author, the presence in the book that is shaking you by the shoulders and going, THIS IS WHAT’S WRONG WITH SOCIETY.

but sometimes, like in your case, the opposite situation occurs: you the reader are wider than the implied author, and so some books have little to offer you in terms of depth or insight into the human experience. i don’t mean that to sound pretentious or anything; what i mean is, we all read at different skill levels and for different reasons, and we all get different things out of the stories we read. we’re all at different places in our reading lives, and we all have room to grow.

i hope i explained this clearly enough! hopefully one day i’ll be able to write a formal essay on this, because booth wrote about it in the 60s and a lot has happened in fiction since then.

#implied author #writing advice #Anonymous

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1994sunflower · 3 years ago

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what if Michael accidentally hurts y/n. Like maybe she’s coming home from her classes and she sees him beating someone up and she tries to stop him and he hurts her on accident. Sorry I just really love your writing especially angst ;)

thank you so much! i love angst too hehe...I dont know how angsty this is but i put a little bit of fluff at the end lol

also, i’m so sorry for being so inactive guys i really am working on stuff i promise :(( but i’m also making like 20 essays for school applications so it’s going slowly. hope you like this!

in which michael accidentally hurts you

You’re never sure how they start. You couldn’t picture something making you so angry that you’d resort to fists. Even your boyfriend, as apathetic as he is with most people, you didn’t know his violent side intimately. It was just never the way Michael was with you. It almost felt like a stranger when you saw evidence of it acting against others, hurting others.

You never minded much, just tried to stop him and chastised him a bit while you patched him up. Because at the end of the day you knew he wasn’t a bad guy. Even appreciated his ability to defend himself and you. But still the mystery was always preserved. How the man that held you close, looked at you with nothing but love could be the cause of so many broken bones and bloodshed. Was it his temper that you had never seen or was it his not caring of anyone or even himself, the harm it could bring to him if he wasn’t careful.

Either way you hated it. Hated it each time you heard of it, his (comparatively much more violent) past of it and even more when you caught him at it yourself. It was never on purpose. Because if Michael had known you were anywhere near the vicinity he would stop, or leave to finish his business without you being there to witness that side of him.

You were docile, so much different than him. Michael knew that as well as anyone else. He knew he didn’t deserve you. So, he tried to hard to avoid adding to the list of why. He could imagine in his worst nightmares you seeing that dark side of him, the one that was so much better than before thanks to you, and be terrified. Realize what kind of man you had chosen and finally see that you needed someone better. Someone who wasn’t so aggressive, so violent, so scary. He didn’t want you to look at him with those eyes. Scared, like you never really knew him. Because the truth was you knew him better than anyone else.

Usually you’d catch him when you were walking back from class. Something he should be doing as well. Instead, he’d be somewhere where he imagined you’d never cross paths, far from your last class. Too bad you liked to walk around campus and take shortcuts more than you should.

It was usually the same thing. He’d have the upper hand. With his height and strength, it was easy. But that’d leave a victim, someone who couldn’t properly defend themselves against the wrath brought on by whatever they had done to Michael. Sometimes as little as bumping into him. You, with all your goodness and empathy, always stopped your boyfriend because you knew only you could. And if you could help someone, you’d always take the opportunity.

This time was a little different. Maybe Michael had gotten his days crossed, maybe he forgot you had lab that day and you’d have to pass by that way. But in the walk from your building back to off campus, in the little alleyway of one of the last buildings separating campus from the main street, you heard it. The building was tall and its brick walls looked more like formidable walls, so you had to keep walking until you were right at the entryway of the surprisingly big alley to see.

But your boyfriend was unmistakable. And so was the way he was punching down another boy. The boy was younger than him, it was obvious, maybe even a freshman. Which somehow made it worse. But they were almost equally matched in height and the boy, either from adrenaline or reflex, wasn’t just holding his hands up in defense. He landed more than a few punches back at your boyfriend. Hitting him in his jaw and face, you already saw some scrapes on his temple and cheek.

Your face contorted into panic at the sight of Michael getting hurt. Maybe even more fear-stricken at that fact than you would have been just seeing another person getting hurt by his hand. It wasn’t fair to care more about him than the other boy, especially when you were sure Michael was the aggressor. But you didn’t care. You loved him too much to see him get hurt. It was the reason you hated him fighting so much, you dreaded to see the consequences it could end up having on him. You’d told him so many times to stop fighting in the past but he wouldn’t listen. He was getting better but never stopping. Being as good for his girlfriend as possible so you’d be proud of him.

There wasn’t much need to worry, though. A few punches landed on him but he still was dominating the fight by far. Especially when he was more pissed off at the younger boy fighting back. But it didn’t matter. If it went on the way it currently was going, both of them would be more seriously injured than maybe they even realized.

You weren’t sure why you didn’t call out to him. Maybe it was the urgency of the situation that had you mute and just running to your boyfriend as quickly as you could. You always stopped him, but that was always when he realized it was you by the sound of your voice. It never occurred to you that he wouldn’t recognize your touch when he was so blinded by rage. You didn’t realize until you were too close, had already touched his arm desperately, hoping to stop any more attacks from raining down on the other boy. You didn’t even get a chance to call out to him, let him listen to your familiar voice that always seemed to soothe him.

By then, he had already pushed you away. He did it without even looking at you, his anger still directed at the boy and no one would stop him — at least when he thought you wouldn’t be there.

“Get the fuck off me.” His words were in a tone you’d never heard directed at you, only at other people. And his hand hit your shoulder and sent you flying back, landing with a loud thud on the concrete.

You weren’t sure if the feeling of your body left lingering on his fingers was what made him recognize who he had just pushed. Or maybe it was the recognition of your voice in the pained yell you had let out as you fell down. But he froze. So completely paralyzed, his body rigid. He was begging that as he turned around, slowly almost mechanically, he wouldn’t see you on the ground. That you wouldn’t be the person he had just physically hurt in his anger.

It was fruitless. As he kept his grip on his opponents shirt, but stopped yelling, stopped assaulting; just looking behind him, dreading what he would see. It was you. You sitting up, your knees and arms scraped from the fall, some blood and red, raw skin on the injuries. Your pretty dress was crumpled and dirty, bits of concrete, dirt and filth marred your spotless person. His pure, fragile girl.

But it was your face that had him letting go of the boy, arms hanging limply at his side, anger forgotten and eyes wide in horror at what he had just done to his girlfriend who he loved so much. You were looking up at him, tears in your eyes from the pain. They flowed down your cheeks and while you were silent, your eyes screamed at him what hurt more than any of the punches he had just taken. It’s your fault.

He hadn’t pushed that hard. But to your smaller body, even a light hit from him would be painful and powerful. Especially with his added strength.

“Y/N…” The boy was long forgotten. Even when he took the opportunity to run away. Michael forgot the reason for the fight in the first place. Nothing, really, entered his mind as important except you. All his thoughts had zeroed in on the scene in front of him, what he had just done to you. You were the best thing to ever happen to him. He cared about you so much. He loved you more than anyone else, even himself. Hurting you was the last thing he ever wanted to do. He’d hurt himself before he let anything touch you. All he ever wanted was to protect you. But yet, he was the one that ended up doing just that.

“Fuck, baby, I didn’t-” Know it was you.

He fucked up. He’d never felt more ashamed at having lost control. If he hadn’t, he’d have stopped and seen it was you. He would have listened when your little hand took hold of his arm. Recognized the feeling of your skin on his like he could so easily do when he was in the right frame of mind. He wouldn’t have hurt you. You wouldn’t be on the ground, dirty and injured because of him.

But as he stepped towards you, already bending down to help you up, check on you, it got worse. It was worse before you pushed yourself back with the heels of your feet, putting more distance between him and you, making sure he couldn’t get near you. “Don’t touch me.”

Hurt flashed on his face at your words. At you rejecting to even be near him. The one person that had always stuck by him through everything and forgave him even with how often he fucked up. The one that gave him an unconditional love he wasn’t used to. Part of him new he deserved it, for hurting you even if it was an accident. But the ache he felt when he couldn’t even help you, ask for your forgiveness because you didn’t want to hear it right then, was strong.

Your voice wavered and broke but your eyes showed very clearly how much you meant those words. He wasn’t sure what was worst to see in them, the anger or the fear.

Why were you even there? He was sure you had class on the opposite side of campus. It was why he never imagined you were the one trying to stop him. He pictured you walking peacefully from your class back home to wait for him to get back to you. Not what actually ended up happening. He would have never fought in a place you could so easily have seen, so easily have gotten hurt. Especially when he wanted to make you see how much better he was being for you, even if not by much. If you had called out to him, he hadn’t even heard you.

Michael felt a pit at his stomach. Could already hear you breaking up with him, because a girl like you didn’t deserve to be on the ground, looking so pretty and innocent and have that ruined because her boyfriend couldn’t just listen to her and try to be less violent with others. Dread filled him at the different possibilities of losing you this could bring him. None of them did he want. But still, watching you wince as you emotionally collected yourself, he had to curse himself. He wouldn’t blame you. It’s his fault.

Even at your words, he still moved forward, getting down on his knees to be on your level. When you lifted up your palms from the ground, they were tinged pink from the fall and bits and pieces of the concrete were stuck to the palms of your hands. His jaw locked at the sight, regret filling his mind.

Taking your small hands in his, slowly, he sucked in a relieved breath when you didn’t push him away like he thought you would. Instead, he wouldn’t meet your big eyes as he felt them looking at him, he couldn’t. It was so shameful to see that pure wide eyed look of yours and know he had hurt someone that wholesome and kind.

His gaze stayed on your hands as you held them out palm up. One of his hands cupped the back of your two hands while the other he used to gently pick off the grovel. Not too fast lest they be sharp and hurt you. It was almost comical really, to see his hands, still bloody at the knuckles from the fight, being so tender only a few minutes later.

“Does it hurt?” He asked you when he was done. When you winced as you curled your fingers in was the answer.

You wouldn’t even look at him. Let alone acknowledge the apology begging to leave his lips. And he had to resist the urge to take you into his arms so he wouldn’t feel the coldness you were currently giving him. Tears were still running down your cheek by the time your backpack that had fallen beside you was taken up by Michael. He slung it across his shoulder easily, no matter how heavy you had found it. Then his arm was around your waist and his hand on your arm, pulling you up finally from the ground that should be kissed at your feet instead of you laying in it.

Clearly, he wasn’t taking your command to not touch you seriously. But you didn’t make any move to enforce it - despite how angry you felt, how struck at what he had done to you, no matter that he had done it unconsciously. He needed it, to feel as if he hadn’t completely destroyed everything in the relationship he cherished so much. That the only girl he loved and respected didn’t feel terrified of him and distrust him.

He’d brought a lot of emotions out of you, particularly pleasure, but pain was never meant to be one of them.

That much was obvious in the almost shameful look on his face all the way back to your house - the place you’d forced him to take you to instead of his own home. You would’ve preferred to go home by yourself, your anger and freight not being appropriate to be next to him, let alone have him nearly piggyback carrying you all the way. But he wouldn’t leave your side.

It was also seen in his small voice, as shaky and almost insecure as you’d ever heard it when you forced him to put you down as you finally got home. The security of your home giving you what your had been lacking the second Michael sent you to the ground, the safety you usually got from him was weak.

“I can help...”

“No, I got it.” Your words were cold, so different from your usually light and happy voice, as you walked away from him and to your bathroom where you kept the first aid kit. It was usually there for him whenever he got in a fight and got hurt. But now, you needed it.

He flinched at your tone. Despite whatever fights he ever got in, you were the only one who could ever truly hurt him.

Michael stayed in the living room silently while you disinfected your wounds and covered them up. He hurt you. You could still feel the pain of it, see it physically manifested. You were still crying, sniffling as quietly as you could. It didn’t hurt so much as it did scare you. Not that you were scared of him. Despite what happened, you knew it was an accident and you knew he would never hurt you purposely like that ever.

But the fact it happened, the fact he had been so lost in his anger that he didn’t stop and think about what he was doing and his surroundings. The fact that you had felt his strength in such an ugly, dangerous way. The suddenness of it scared you.

And you hated feeling that towards your boyfriend. You only wanted to feel happy and loved with him, nothing as negative as this. It was also frustrating, knowing you had warned him of consequences of his actions like this, though never expected you’d ever be on the receiving end of it, but he still hasn’t changed. But this was the last time you’d ever allow yourself to be in this position.

It made you almost think that your friends, the rumors, maybe they were more right about Michael and his anger than you were whenever you tried to defend him. You wanted your boyfriend to be safe. You didn’t want to believe they were right. Otherwise, you didn’t really know the man you claimed to love.

You were mad and frightened. But it came from a place of love. You didn’t want him to get hurt and you especially didn’t want it to get to this point where he couldn’t even stop himself before it got out of his control until it was too late. You loved him.

When you finished fixing yourself up as best as you could, you left the bathroom and moved quietly into your living room where Michael was sitting silently. His face was in his hands. His very posture screamed regret and you didn’t even want to imagine how dark and self-deprecating his thoughts were as he blamed himself for hurting you, you knew it was hard for him.

He’d told you so many times it was the last thing he wanted. You weren’t sure he could forgive himself. Especially when he knew his strength compared to yours, when he saw your injuries caused by his hand.

You weren’t sure he even felt your presence when you slowly sat down next to him on the couch, the kit still in your hands. “Here, let me cover that up.”

He had bruises all over his face, particularly his jaw but he had an especially nasty cut on his forehead.

But when you raised your hands to start working on it, Michael finally looked at you, only to move his head back and shake his head. You were too good for this world, to still worry about him after everything.

“Don’t waste it on me.”

With you red rimmed eyes, your voice was still more serious than usual but your words were almost normal, “Don’t be silly. You’re hurt.”

Michael kept silent as you focused on his injury. But you could tell his mind was moving quickly, probably figuring out what to say to you.

You wanted him to feel bad, it wasn’t okay and he needed to feel it in order to change. But you didn’t want him to drive himself crazy with kicking himself in the back for what he accidentally did. He stopped as soon as it happened, it gave you hope of how he could change. How this could be a wake up call.

It was only when you were almost done that he spoke. “I didn’t know you were the one grabbing me. I swear I would never have hurt you, it was too late when I realized you-” his head hung in shame, “You were already on the ground when I figured out it was you.”

He was silent for a while and you thought it was him re-living the moment you had been flung so strongly. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I would never hurt you like that. Ever. I promise. You’re the only good thing I have in my life. I can’t lose you and it shouldn’t have happened, I should have realized I was just so pissed off. And I thought you were in class. I never thought you’d be there. But it will never happen again.”

“Michael…” You sighed, you’d heard that before.

But he cut you off. “No, I’m serious. It won’t. I….I hated seeing you hurt like that. Especially because it was my fault. I know I’m violent but you’ll never experience that again. You’ll never see that again. I’ll never hurt you again so…please…I’m sorry.”

He was so rarely vulnerable with his words, let alone speaking so much. It was obvious he meant it. You took in his apology and his words. You didn’t say it was okay but you didn’t move away or reject his apology either.

“You won’t lose me.” When his guilty eyes bore into yours, you took his bruised hand. “I know you didn’t meant to, Mikey, you’re not that type of guy and you’ve never been violent towards me. But I get so worried seeing you fight and get hurt, you didn’t even realize it was me because you were so mad. It’s seeing you in a light that I don’t like.”

His words were soft-spoken and gentle, his rough hands encasing your smaller ones almost as if they were glass, like the most precious thing he had. “I know. I’m working on it.” Both of you knew he was. If just to keep you happy. His fights are fewer and farther between but when they do happen, they’re never any less bloody.

Michael’s eyes trailed down to your arm and your dress, marred with stripes of gravel and dirt. Your scraped knees. Your eyes puffy from crying. Even hurt you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. He almost wanted to pull away, he had no right to be touching you, to still be the object of your love. Not when someone as sweet, innocent and peaceful as you was with someone as wrong as him. You deserved someone that brought only smiles out of you. Fuck. He cherished you. And he was disgusted at what he did; would always be, the memory would haunt him for a long time.

He almost looked in pain as he forced himself to keep looking at what he had done to you. “Does it still hurt?”

You almost didn’t want to answer, for his sake but still you nodded. “I have to change clothes, too.”

“You look so pretty.” It made it worse, how much you more you deserved. “You deserve better.”

Your eyes were confident with your next words, “You’re going to give me that.” He had to. Otherwise, you didn’t think anything you imagined your future would be was going to stay the same.

And he would. For you.

It didn’t mean he would be perfect or that his tendencies would change. You’d always catch him in fights or in some kind of trouble. But he would be in his right mind, he’d stop before he went too far. And most importantly, he’d never hurt you like he did today. It wouldn’t be hard. When you changed his life so much, he wasn’t in that state of mind he was when he was so angry and violent before he met you.

Michael started that new resolution to change by peppering you with kisses, grateful he still could, not stopping until you began giggling and pawing at him to stop. You were still kind of mad and hesitant after all, but it was hard to fight back against his sweeter side giving you more of an apology. He was careful to ghost his fingertips over your injuries so as not to hurt you as he took you in his arms like his life depended on you being with him.

“I love you.” His gravelly voice murmured, “So much.” You were everything to him. What he cherished the most in his life, who he would always need at his side. The last person he wanted to hurt. He was so lucky you were such a good, forgiving person that believed in him. Trusted him. Loved him.

“I know. I love you too.”

You and your love were the what that brought his happiness and goodness into his life. Without you, he would be so much worse than he seemed to be right then. You were the reason he could imagine a normal future for himself, one with a family and a home. The reason he was so much happier recently, why he hadn’t been in a fight in months before this last one.

He’d never hurt you again. You’d only ever feel good feelings arisen by him, like it always should have been.

Your voice was almost shy but your words were very much willing to take advantage of his guilty mind. “Can we have a spa night? I think it might help my wounds.”

Michael, your big, mature, manly, would-never-have-a-spa-night boyfriend looked at you, knowing very well the healing properties a spa routine could have on your injuries was bullshit. But still he nodded. He’d do anything for you.

Anything to make it up to you. To take away that hesitancy and sadness in your eyes, to try as he might to erase his huge mistake and replace that scary image of him and know that he was nothing like that with you. Anything to have the rest of the day bring you nothing but peace and happy memories with him, what you had always felt in your life that changed when you met your explosive boyfriend. Having you in his arms for the rest of the night, forgetting the cuts on both of your persons for the night.

��With face masks?”

“…Fine”

You smiled sheepishly, “….And can we watch Legally Blonde?”

“Whatever you want, baby.”

#5sos #Michael clifford #Michael clifford x reader #5sos fluff #Michael clifford fluff #5sos imagines #bad boy fluff #bad boy michael #Michael clifford angst #5sos angst #bad boy angst #college au

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gummygowon · 4 years ago

Text

cute relationship things with ateez!

genre: fluff (a lot)

warnings: none :)

established relationship!

a/n: i meant to post this like two weeks ago but i never finished it so consider this an early valentine’s day gift <3 ;)

seonghwa:

for some reason, i feel like seonghwa likes to read books

with that being said, on lazy days where you guys didn’t want to get up and do anything

you guys would read books !!!

before you guys would read some were recommendations from each other on your own

and then maybe rant to each other over little details about the book like how the main character went back to their toxic ex or how the ending of a book was so bad

“seonghwa, how did you even read this?!? the stupid ass main character keeps going back to that one jerk! like does she not realize she deserves more than his ugly ass???!!!?”

“y/n, just keep reading.”

“but hwa-”

turns out the main character got with the other woman yayyyyy!!! fuck shitty men

i don’t know how it happened but you guys started your own little book club with each other

so you guys could finally talk rant together at the same time about the book

so since you guys started to read the same book and if you guys found down time together you would read together

like, imagine it’s a peaceful friday night

seonghwa is back from work and so are you

you guys already showered and ate dinner

you’re just reading and then seonghwa just scoops you up and then puts you in between his legs with your back against his chest

and you’re like “wtf bro?”

and he’s just like, “what? i wanna read too???”

“didn’t you like read ahead tho??”

“yeah, but i wanna read it again.”

that was a fatass lie

he just wanted to be close to you

hongjoong:

ok so, we all know that this man is hella busy all the time

mans is the leader, song writer, producer, dancer, rapper (which is why he is good at all positions)

but you were patient with him and whenever he goes days without seeing you due to his busy ass schedule he would make it up to you yk what i mean

but on the more chill days when you saw hongjoong or even the days where he was cooped in his studio (you would visit him there because sometimes you just had to see him)

you guys would just lay on the couch, just enjoying each other’s presence and not feel like you have to make up for lost time

you would be on the bottom on your phone or reading a magazine/book

then hongjoong would be at the top with his head on your stomach as he would be writing down lyrics that came to mind

killing two birds with one stone you feel me

sometimes you would show him a funny meme that you found or quote something that you just read to him

“hongjoong, look at the way he fell!” you would be dying of laughter

and then he wouldn’t notice because he was really roped into making lyrics

but you also didn’t see him focusing so much because you were of course laughing at the kid that accidentally got bitchslapped off the couch because of their sibling

“joongie look!!!”

“what is it?”

you would then show him what happened and then he would look at with that “you really interrupted me for this??” type of look

“i just lost my train of thought for this song because you wanted to show me this kid falling off of a couch???”

“yes?”

he would just bring a hand to his face and think what tf? why tf? and then slowly start laughing because of what just happened

“see, wasn’t it funny?”

“a child getting hurt isn’t funny, y/n” he would laugh while scolding you

yunho:

yunho powers im sorry for this one

alright so, it’s night time

you guys are about to go to bed after a long day or work/school whatever

your eyes are fluttering closed because the day got you beat beat

but then yunho just kisses your face

and then you open your eyes slowly again to see yunho look like he just got caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to do

like imagine a kid that just got caught drawing on the walls

that’s what his face would look like

he’s just laying there like “i thought you were asleep...”

“i was just about to...”

yunho feels lowkey guilty now because you’re awake now and he knows you had a long day

he just couldn’t resist kissing you

you just looked so pretty and peaceful sleeping

mans was reminded by the universe themself about how lucky he was being able to date you

like, godamn what did he do in his past life to deserve you?

ok, back to this reaction idea thing-

yunho would apologize for waking you up with his cheeks a nice rosy color

you just look at him with tired eyes

“i’ll forgive you, if you give me more kisses.”

and yunho’s smile just lights up the whole damn room and he’s like oh? say less

so he goes to kissing your face

like all over

your nose

your cheeks

forehead

basically anywhere ok?

and you end up laughing because it tickles

but you just want him to kiss your lips which he does

... eventually lmao

but when he does your still laughing which causes him to laugh

he tells you “i love you, did you know that?”

and you get all flustered and shit but you still keep that playful energy around

“i love you too, but you aren’t forgiven just yet”

which leads to more kisses :))))

yeosang:

ok so you’re now the busy one

yeosang has so much respect for you because holy shit how do you balance that busy ass schedule of yours

your homework loads were no jokes

then to add to that you have a job which was even more stressful

it was amazing how you can manage all that and still keep a smile on your face

you also had major respect for yeosang as an idol

the industry was not a place to fuck around

you couldn’t be happier that your boyfriend was lucky enough to have a group who actually cared and supported each other

speaking of ateez, yeosang isn’t the most touchy person in the world

you didn’t mind of course, you’re the same way

however, when he did give you cuddles and kisses you would be a blushing mess

a sort of rare sight that yeosang loved to see

anyways, one night you were busy writing those argumentative essays that you were sure that your fingers would fall off by the time you were finished

you were working on it ever since you got home from school (with the occasional food and bathroom breaks )to the time when yeosang came back from practice

you moved to your shared bed by the time the sweaty boy came home and he was surprised that you were working on one subject for so long

the stupid piece was almost finished by the time yeosang was out of the shower

however, you didn’t even notice

you were too immersed in your writing to notice

yeosang took this as an opportunity to sit behind you and wrap his arms around your waist and watch over your shoulder as you worked

and of course, he would kiss your cheek occasionally

this was super sweet gesture but yeosang but you didn’t the notice that he wrapped his arms around you

“ai yah! what the hell?” you yelled and turned around to see your boyfriend clutching his chest

“oh it’s just you.”

yeosang would give you a deadpanned look and be like, “yeah, who else tf???”

you would apologize and kissing his cheek before returning to back to work

which yeosang would return to hugging your waist and keep his head on your shoulder

and give you occasional kisses on your cheek or neck

after that night, it became a weekly occurrence

which you loved of course, who wouldn’t love their bf cuddling them while they chased their bag

san:

i am very excited for this one

ok so, san loves playing with your hair

it’s just so much fun

running his fingers through it or just attempting to braid it or put it into a tiny ponytail

he loved it

he would probably always play with your while you were watching tv together, sitting together in the car, or even before you guys fall asleep

then one day after san came home early from work

you guys were chilling on the bed watching the latest k-drama that came out since san made you wait so you guys could watch it together

san was in between your legs with his back leaning against your chest

and that’s when you decided to run your fingers through his soft, fluffy hair

that’s also when san asked you to braid his hair

“sure, what type of braid though?”

“there’s different kinds????”

“yes, san. now pick one.” you gave him your phone that was pulled up to different types braids.

“i want the french ones. they sound fancy.”

you roll your eyes and start sectioning his hair into two sections and start braiding his hair and lightly pull on the pink strands because you know san likes his hair pulled

so you doing his hair right

and you begin rambling about your day/week

talking about whatever interesting happened to you because you know that san likes hearing you talk no matter what it’s about

however, you were knee deep into talking about the latest drama at work that you didn’t even realize that san stopped talking

“san?”

he didn’t answer and his head would be dipping down so low you were surprised you didn’t fall over

“baby?”

san still wouldn’t respond to you

but this time he just flipped over so his head would be on your stomach as he wrapped your arms around your stomach

“mmmmmmm?”

“nevermind love, just sleep.”

he would respond by burying his head further into your stomach and tightened his hold around you

you kissed his head and ran your fingers through his hair which lulled san to sleep even more

“goodnight sannie.”

mingi:

you have been best friends with song mingi ever since you moved into the tiny neighborhood that you call home

it all started when your parents brought you over to your next door neighbor’s house for breakfast on a cold saturday morning

you were extremely shy when you were little so the only thing you could remember about your first experience with mingi was hiding behind your mother’s leg for the first hour of being there and watching the young boy play with his toy cars and planes before he finally offered a pirate ship to you

ever since that unforgettable saturday, you pretty much spent the rest of your childhood with mingi

you guys were practically joined at the hip

even when you were getting endlessly teased by your classmates for the first month of school for having an accent whenever you spoke

which resulted in you running to the bathroom crying

not even a minute later, you heard someone burst through the girls’ bathrrom

“y/n?”

you peaked your head out of the stall to see your tall neighbor looking out of breath

“mingi, you aren’t supposed to be here!” you said in between sobs

“it’s okay, i don’t care.” he said as he awkwardly wrapped his arms around you. “are you okay?”

you shook your head no looking at him with tears running down your face

the poor boy was internally freaking out since he has no clue on how to comfort people (especially if they’re a girl)

he was like eight at the time give him a little break

so of course, his first reaction was to make you laugh somehow

and he did this by randomly recreating the “boots and cats, boots and cats” rhythm after seeing siri do it in a youtube video and started to bop his head

surprised by his sudden movements, you laughed out of pure confusion

as soon as mingi saw the corner of your lips flip upwards he began rapping faster to the point where he was gasping for breath leading him into a coughing fit

“mingi you can breathe, y’know!” you giggled in between words

after the young boy had caught his breath from hacking away at his lungs, he smiled at you

until- the teacher had came into the bathroom, scolding mingi for going into the girls’ restroom

even though mingi didn’t care at all that he got in trouble, the only thing he cared about was that you were feeling better

ever since then whenever you were sad or having a bad day mingi would whip out his phone and ask siri to rap while he free-styled over the monotone voice

he literally still does it

even two years into your relationship-

“siri, can you rap for me?” mingi would ask his phone as he pointed his free arm at you

“boots and cats-”

“mingi, please no.” you laughed in between tears, your mood rising with every beat

wooyoung:

i wholeheartedly believe that wooyoung would kiss you face if you were sad

but the first time this happened, you guys were still fairly new into your relationship

which meant that you weren’t completely ready to be extremely vulnerable around wooyoung

because in your mind, letting someone see you at your lowest lows of means that you really trust and love someone to let them see you like that

you always wanted to be known as the strong person in the friend group

you were that glue that held everyone together

always listening to others and taking care of others before yourself

which is why wooyoung fell in love with you in the first place

he had never been in a relationship where someone was so caring and thoughtful of others that he was scared that he wouldn’t be enough for you and that you deserved better

of course, he didn’t tell you that right away but he confessed to you about that wayyy later in your relationship which is another story to be told

but one day, life was coming at you so fucking fast

assignments were piling up left and right and deadlines were literally every other day

and then there seemed to be an increase in the amount of angry karens at your work

and your patience was thinning everyday with those people

then to top it all off, all the tests you’ve been studying for, you got mediocre grades, some even worse in other subjects

it just felt like no matter how much work you put into whatever you do, you got half ass results

it was just pushing your mental health further into the ground

you could handle a C every once in awhile but multiple? on back to back tests? no fucking way you just couldn’t

those stupid, dark thoughts would cloud your mind in an instant and on days like this, you would just let them consume you

you were too tired to pick yourself up again and fight back which led to you crying in wooyoung’s arms

usually, you would feel so embarrassed crying over things like this when you know other people have it worse but you couldn’t hold in it anymore

you ranted about yourself in between your hiccups from crying which would hurt wooyoung’s heart a little bit

because he thought of you as such a strong and kind person- the complete opposite of what you were saying about yourself

so when you were done talking, wooyoung made you look at him and assured you that you were not any of those nasty things that you said about yourself

each insult turned into a thoughtful compliment accompanied by a kiss

“y/n, you are so intelligent-”

kiss

“caring-”

kiss

“beautiful-”

kiss

“more than everything i ever wanted”

kiss

by the time wooyoung was done, you were a giggling mess

“and this is why i love you.”

he finally kissed you on your lips, smiling into it like the dork he is

it was the first ever time he told you that he loved you

jongho:

i am also a firm believer that jongho would sing his s/o to sleep

like with that heavenly voice of his, he better put them to sleep

so on the first night you ever slept with jongho, you were too nervous to go to bed even though your body was screaming at you to close your eyes

you kept tossing and turning every few minutes or your eyes would shoot open with your heart racing

at this point, you gave up on trying to sleep and got up (carefully to not wake up your sleeping boyfriend) to get a drink

while you were in the kitchen, clutching your chest in an effort to get yourself to calm down, jongho had stirred awake to an empty bed

a flash of panic surged through his body as he momentarily forgot where he was since he wasn’t at his dorm his room never looked this clean

yawning, the vocalist would wander into the light with his eyes squinted, “y/n?”

“oh my god!” you jumped, water almost spilling out your glass

jongho covered his ears, “what are you doing up?”

“oh,” you felt your cheeks turn red since you felt bad for waking your boyfriend up. “i can’t sleep.”

“why?” he asked, walking towards the couch.

“i don’t know.” you answered as you followed close behind.

you curled up next to jongho, clutching his shirt “i’m sorry for waking you up.”

jongho smiled tiredly at you before kissing your head, “don’t be. it’s okay. i don’t have work tomorrow anyways.”

you smiled in response before the two of you guys fell into a silence

“do you want me to sing you to sleep?”

“yes, please.” you murmured into his side as jongho placed his other arm around you, successfully trapping you in between his arms

he began singing softly into your ear as he stroked your hair

his warm voice coaxing your eyes to close

at last, your mind was at peace with itself

your heart beat slowing down

and by the time the song was finished you were fast asleep in arms

jongho kissed your forehead once more

“i love you.”

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stanknotstark · 3 years ago

Text

Research and Dating (No They Aren’t Connected)

“So, if you could kidnap me really publicly that would be great.”

“...why?”

“I kinda forgot about this research essay due tomorrow? And like, my prof knows I’m a hero- I even brought my laptop so I can write it in your cell. Is the wifi password still the same?”

It’s Thursday at 8 P.M. and your essay is due in 4 hours. It wasn’t that you had procrastinated it’s because-nope, ya, you procrastinated. Now you were freaking out about it when the glorious idea came to you.

There were, of course, perks of being frenemies with Loki. You have visited his his base of operations before, his ‘evil lair’, been thrown into one of his cells and ‘suffered’ until he got bored of the Avengers searching for you like chickens with their heads cut off and made theatrics by showing up to them with you in his hands and ‘failing’ to keep you away from the Avengers saving you.

In all actuality, you had sat in a golden cell but Loki had sat right outside the cell with a chair and read while eating an apple. You couldn’t read the title of the book so you asked him what it was about and Loki had been a little hesitant but fell into your pure curiosity and explained what he had been reading. You’re sure he liked your curious mind as you started asking more questions and challenged the ideas the book gave. It lead to a long discussion of morals, and death, and at one point whether apples or pears were better. It was fun is what you’re trying to say.

That’s how your friendship blossomed.

So, you call up Loki, yes he has a cell phone, and ask him without explanation at first, “So could you, like, kidnap me but publicly?”

You can hear the cogs turning in Loki’s head at your request. “Why?” He asks in a smooth voice, betraying no emotion.

“I kinda forgot about this research essay due tonight? And, like, my professor knows I’m a hero. I’ll even bring my laptop so I can write in your cell, the wifi password is still the same right?” You ask Loki.

Loki sighs over the phone, you can imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose with closed eyes.

“Yes. Fine. Be at Madison Square Garden in 15 minutes.” The god says and hangs up.

You smile and pump a fist at your best friend’s save.

You’re at Madison Square Garden in record time and Loki makes his entrance a show.

You’re sitting down outside the stadium when Loki materializes from green clouds of magic that open a portal then float into the air as if they’re a sign that’s flashing the words ‘Loki is here!’ in the night sky of NYC. When he sees you he rolls his eyes but people start paying attention so you play along with his ruse.

“Loki! What mischief do you plan to get up to today? It doesn’t matter, I need to bring you in!” You yell at him, almost laughing at how stupid this all seems, and push civilians back behind you.

Loki chuckles darkly, “You. You are my mischief today, your poor Avengers will never find you. You will become my slave.” Loki says with a voice that is dark but his eyes light up with amusement.

By now hundreds of people have stopped their night to watch you and Loki, phones out and recording everything.

You smile sardonically at Loki, “Not if I-”

Loki grabs you and pulls you and teleports. When you’re at his base you sigh and pat him on the arm as he pulls from you.

“Thanks, I owe you big time Lokes.”

Loki frowns at the nick name you chose. “Please refrain from calling me that or I shall teleport you to your professor and have you face the repercussions of procrastination.” Loki threatens.

You chuckle, roll your eyes, and head to the cell. It’s just in case someone actually does pop in to ‘save’ you.

When you’ve settled in the cell Loki raises the golden barriers and magics a chair near to settle with you.

“What do they have you writing about now?” Loki asks.

You had asked him for help writing other essays because Loki has an eloquent way of speaking. You felt it made you sound smarter and because you spent consistent time with the god you had fallen into talking like him sometimes.

“It’s for my disability class, the sociology class?” You ask Loki if he remembers you telling him about it, at his nod you smile, “Ya, so basically we’re to argue whether we feel prostitution should be legal or not in America considering how much it helps the disabled.”

You laugh at Loki’s frown.

“Which side do you argue for?” Loki asks with a small squint as if trying to determine the side before you tell him.

“I believe it should be legal but have restrictions and rules. If in the wrong hands it could be really bad but at the same time if it’s in good hands it could be really good. It’s a risk but we won’t know how well it’ll work if we never try, you know?” You say with a pondering look. Loki purses his lips but nods at you.

Loki magics a book into his hands and lets you start writing away. The whole thing is very comforting to you. Sound wise, you can hear Loki let out puffs of breath when he finds something amusing in his book, Then, there’s the rhythmic tapping of your keyboard as you write. Other than that you just enjoy being with the god, even if you aren’t interacting with each other.

You’ve been harboring a crush on him for awhile but have always kept it hidden. You value his friendship too much to do anything that could jeopardize it. Not to mention, Loki hadn’t shown anything on if he likes you or not. He occasionally flirts with you in battle but that’s about it. So, you feel you know he isn’t attracted to you like that.

“Loki what’s another word for great?” You mutter.

“Glorious, grand, impressive?” The god supplies you with choices.

You hum but don’t say anything and continue typing. After you finish your paragraph you look at Loki who glances at you.

“Thanks.”

Loki smirks at his book, “Anything for you, darling.” Loki says in a low voice while reading his book.

See, the nick names had started early on. At first they had confused you but when you had been in battle and helping Tony, Loki had called Tony ‘sweetheart’ so you reasoned Loki just had a thing for nicknames. That doesn’t stop the jolt in your stomach when he does call you sweet names like that though.

You shake yourself out of your reverie and continue writing. You’re like one, maybe two, paragraphs from being done. You try your best to elongate time to hang out with Loki more but when you finish your essay you don’t have any other excuse.

That’s why, when you finish and close your laptop with a small ‘click’ and Loki stands and asks if you would like to spend time at his apartment, you’re shocked.

You stand looking at Loki with wide eyes.

Loki takes this as an answer and coughs a little, bringing a hand up to rub at his face, he’s trying to hide his embarrassment.

“I am sorry, I crossed a boundary, it won’t happen again.”

“No!” You yell, nearly dropping your laptop as you reach towards Loki. You scramble to hold it to your chest again and look at him, shyly pushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“I would love to. I was shocked, I always figured I’d be the first to ask.”

Loki looks at you a little doubtfully but sees the truth in your answer and smirks. Instead of replying he waves a hand and the barriers disappear then he holds his hand out to you. You gladly take it and suddenly you’re both standing in a tidy apartment.

It’s very modern and looks costly. The furniture is all contemporary and different shades of white, brown, and gray, with the occasional splash of emerald green in throw blankets and decorative pillows. You don’t really notice but Loki still holds your hand.

Loki pulls you by his hand towards his kitchen and puts a kettle of water on on the heating stove top.

“Tea? Or are you more of a coffee person?” Loki asks you with a glance as he pulls out his tea. You finally realize Loki has yet to let go of your hand but you’re not going to complain.

“I love both, but tea will be good for now.” You say lightly, glancing down at your clasped hands when Loki isn’t looking. A small blush heats up your cheeks and you let a stupid smile cross your lips.

You and Loki settle against his bar, still holding hands, while you wait for the water to heat in the kettle.

“I never had the chance to ask but why are you studying psychology and sociology? I figured a superhero’s salary would be quite enough to live comfortably? Don’t tell me they under pay you.” Loki asks, his tone laced with a threat when he says the last part.

You chuckle. “No, it pays well enough, enough to pay my way through school. I want to help people though, that’s what makes me truly happy. So, naturally, psychology and sociology were natural choices because they help me understand people, the way they think, how they tick, so I can better help them.” You explain.

You look up at Loki who looks at you with an unreadable emotion on his face. Loki then brings a hand up, tucks a rogue lock behind your ear and keeps his hand there. “You are too precious for this world.” He whispers as he looks at you. You feel you cheeks heat up and can’t keep eye contact with Loki.

Loki clears his throat and drops his hand from your face, looking away from you as well. However, he doesn’t stop holding your hand. You feel your hand become clammy from nerves and hope this doesn’t gross out Loki. At the thought your hand twitches in his and Loki merely squeezes your hand.

“What other hobbies do you favor, seeing as they obviously kept you preoccupied enough to procrastinate your paper?” Loki asks.

You smile at the ground because you realize Loki is trying to better know you.

You look up at Loki again, who is already looking at you. “Well, surprisingly enough research and reading are my main hobbies.”

“Oh?”

“I love learning so I read up on whatever subject pulls at my attention at the moment.”

“And what draws at your attention right now?” Loki asks curious.

You flush and look at the ground, kicking it softly with the toe of your shoe. You mutter the answer.

Loki chuckles, brings his free hand up to tilt your face till you look at him. “Say that one more time, where I can hear it darling.”

“Norse mythology.” You say softly, embarrassed.

Loki’s eyebrows lift in shock. The look on his face showing that he did not expect that answer at all.

Thankfully the kettle begins whistling and causes the moment to be broken and forgotten.

Loki makes a cup of tea for the both of you and you both move to his living room, seated on his couch. You’re both sitting close enough to touch at the legs but don’t hold hands anymore. You set your mug on the coffee table in front of you, too hot to hold. Loki however basks in the heat of his cup, his hands wrapped around the mug as if he has just come in from a blizzard.

“I have plenty of texts you may borrow if you want to learn about the true mythology.” Loki offers, looking at you calculatingly.

You had hoped Loki would drop the subject seeing as your research was drawn from your want to learn more about Loki than actual Norse mythology.

Whatever, shoot your shot, right?

“I’d much rather hear your tales than anyone else’s.” You say, your hands picking at your jeans with nerves.

Loki hums with a small smile as he takes a sip of his tea. “Of course, darling. There is no better way to learn than from the source of such tales.” Loki says smugly.

You feel a smile break over your lips as you look at Loki who basks in his arrogance.

“I better watch out, stroking your ego,” You say, Loki raising a brow at your mischievous smirk, “Otherwise you might start sounding like Thor.” You say to knock Loki down a peg. Loki scoffs with a roll of his eyes but you don’t miss the twitch of his lips.

“Do not compare me to my oaf of a brother.” Loki says, finally setting his mug of tea down, resting his hands in his lap. You also don’t miss the twitch of his hands, as if they want to reach out towards you.

There are too many signs that Loki obviously likes you, it’s almost overwhelming, but you keep yourself pulled together before you ask him the question.

“You know, I’m just kind of going out on a limb here, but uh...You ever plan to ask me out, take me on some romantic dinner or something or do I need to give more incentive?” You say, the confidence in your voice a facade because inside you’re freaking out.

Loki keeps a blank face as you look at him. Then, he lets a smirk break out over his lips, glances at his tea but his eyes come back to yours.

“Is that such a good idea? Considering you are still my enemy?” Loki asks.

You grab your tea so you have something to do with your hands, sipping from the earthy, spicy liquid. You let yourself think, letting his question roll off your shoulders and shrug. “I could care less what the Avengers think but we can keep our relationship hidden if that would keep you happy?”

Loki purses his lips, his eyes squinting at you. “They would cage you, would they not? If they knew you were fraternizing with the enemy?”

“Yes, but I have no doubt you’d let them keep me for long.” You smile at Loki who huffs out laughter.

“You truly want me?” Loki asks. You don’t fail to hear the insecurity in his tone.

You set your tea down, grab both of Loki’s hands in yours and look at him, baring all your emotions on your face. “More than you will ever know.”

Loki squeezes your hands with a soft tilt of his lips.

“Then I suppose it is inevitable. Shall we partake in a date tomorrow night, say seven?”

You smile at Loki. “I would love to, Lokes.”

Loki rolls his eyes at the nickname but you know he doesn’t mind it, much.

Needless to say, you were granted an extension of time to turn in your essay while also scoring a date with your crush.

#research and dating (no they aren't connected)#loki x reader #loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #so like i started writing this before my writing had truly developed into what it is now #so the first part might be a bit iffy and stuff #i tried to fix it but i don't think i did so #anyways im not completely upset with how it turned out #reader insert #my writing #prompt

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onlyfreds · 4 years ago

Text

I Told You to Behave | F.W.

Title: I Told You to Behave

Requested: Yes/No

Summary: We all know that Fred has trouble behaving

A/N: A huge thank you to Holly for sending me the prompt that inspired this fic! I had so much fun writing this and I hope that I did this justice.

As soon as I wrote down the concluding sentence of my essay, I threw my quill on the table as I leaned back on my chair, breathing a sigh of relief.

I then heard a small knock on the dorm room door, thinking it was one of my roommates I immediately answered, “Come in!”

But, instead of Angelina or Katie or Alicia, the person who came in was none other than my handsome, lovable, sweet, caring (and did I mention handsome?) boyfriend, Frederick Gideon Weasley.

I smiled, my mood immediately being uplifted, while I lazily pushed my chair away from the table, standing up and walking over to him as I wrapped my arms around his torso and breathed in his scent.

“Hey darling.” He cooed with a small smile, combing his fingers through my hair.

“What have you been up to?” He asked.

I looked up at him, “Just finished that 12-foot essay for Transfiguration.”

“How about you?” I then asked, “What brings you here?”

He raised a brow, “What brings you here? She asks. I missed you. Isn’t that obvious? Why else would I be here?”

I shrugged, giving him a small smile, “Dunno, maybe you need something from me?”

Fred gasped as he placed a hand over his heart, feigning offence, “How could accuse me of such a deed?! Honestly woman, you call yourself my girlfriend.”

I laughed, pressing a small kiss on his lips, “I’m just joking love. Besides, I know how clingy you could be.”

“Hey!” He protested, “You’re clingier.”

I stuck his tongue out at him, “Am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Am not.”

Fred rolled his eyes, knowing that I wouldn’t back down because of how stubborn I could get. He crashed our lips together, causing me to stumble back slightly from the force of the kiss.

He sunk his teeth on my bottom lip, nibbling it gently, causing me to moan softly against his mouth.

He placed a hand at the back of my head while I rested my hands on his chest. While he deepened the kiss we slowly walked backwards until my back hit the wall.

The two of us pulled apart, breathless and the temperature of the room rising up by a few degrees.

I looked up at him, feeling my cheeks being painted a tint of pink, “Is that your way of telling me to shut up?”

He grinned sheepishly, “Maybe?”

I giggled, “Then maybe you should shut me up more often.”

Fred smirked, leaning closer that I could practically feel his breath fanning over my face, “What if I shut you up now?”

I bit my lip, feigning innocence, “What’s stopping you?”

My boyfriend was about to reconnect our lips, when a knock on the door caused him to jump slightly.

“Oi Fred!” The familiar voice of his twin could be heard from the other side of the door, “Are you in there?”

Fred muttered something about wrong timing as he answered, “I’m kinda busy at the moment.”

“Well, now’s not the time to be making babies.” His twin retorted, “This product needs your immediate attention. Emphasis on immediate.”

“Why don’t attend to it?” Fred asked, rolling his eyes.

“I have a date with Angelina you oaf! Now, stop your baby-making, get your arse here and fix this.”

“Fine.” Fred huffed as he opened the door and took the box from George.

I sat down on the edge of my bed while Fred sat down on the floor and starting to figure out what was wrong.

“So much for the mood.” I said with a small laugh, moving to sit down in front of him.

“This fever fudge has been on trial for weeks.” He groaned, looking over the ingredients of the product again.

“What’s wrong with it?” I asked, resting my chin on the open palm of my hand.

He frustratingly ran a hand through his hair, making it even messier, “It malfunctions. Once you eat it, your temperature will rise up to 40 degrees. Then within mere minutes it’ll go back down to your normal temperature even without the cure.”

I reached out my hand, “Can I see the list?”

He nodded, handing me the piece of parchment as I read over the messy, but thankfully eligible, handwriting.

“That’s why.” I muttered once I’ve finished reading the whole list.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Fred asked as I handed it back to him.

“You’re missing an ingredient.” I explained, “That’s why it malfunctions.”

“What ingredient?” He asked.

I shrugged, “Just a mandrake leaf. Though, I’ve run out of stock. I’ll go ask Hermione if she has some.”

We then started making the potion again, now all we needed was the mandrake leaf.

I walked towards the door and before leaving to Hermione’s dorm, I warned my boyfriend, “Whatever you do. Don’t add anything else to the potion. You behave until I get back with the mandrake leaf.”

Fred nodded, giving a mock salute, “Yes Ma’am!”

I playfully rolled my eyes at him before shutting the door behind me.

(Fred’s POV)

As soon as the door closed, I looked back down at the parchment in my hand, double checking the whole process to make sure that we did it right.

I took a glance at the bubbling potion that was sitting in the cauldron, that’s strange. If I wasn’t mistaken the potion had to be orange, not purple.

I went over the list again and thought that we’ve must’ve added a little less unicorn horn powder than required

Unscrewing the jar, I was about to add a dash of the powder when I stopped in my tracks remembered what my girlfriend told me.

“Whatever you do. Don’t add anything else to the potion. You behave until I get back with the mandrake leaf.”

I hesitated, the ladle hovering above the cauldron.

She did say that I should wait for her, but I’m pretty sure that nothing will go wrong if I just add a dash, right?

Right?

I sighed, quickly tipping over the ladle, watching the powder drop into the potion.

I waited a minute, but nothing seemed to happen.

At that moment, I realized that I should’ve listened.

Fireworks started to explode from the potion, bouncing off the walls and knocking stuff over.

Once the fireworks disappeared, the room was a mess. I mean a literal mess.

Before I could think of a solution to make it look like that nothing happened, I saw the door knob turn.

She was back. I was dead.

(Reader’s POV)

“Thanks Hermione!” I called after the girl as she headed down to Ron and Harry.

I then opened the door to my dorm, only to see a wreck in front of me and my boyfriend with the look of a guilty puppy.

“What in the name of Godric Gryffindor happened here Freddie?” I asked, staring at him agape.

He gave a shy smile, “I may have added a dash of unicorn horn powder to the potion.”

I glared at him as I took out my wand and waved it, the room cleaning itself up, “What did I say?”

He seemed to cower a bit, “You told me to behave.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, “And what did you do?”

Fred gave a small, innocent smile, “The exact opposite.”

I sighed, suddenly remembering my Transfiguration essay and rushing immediately towards the table. I let out a sigh of relief, seeing that the essay was perfectly fine. I tucked it away in my bag before any damage could be made.

I was aware of Fred staring at me with big doe eyes, silently begging me to forgive him.

I gave him the silent treatment, fixing up the rest of the stuff until the room was back to its natural glory.

I suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist, breathing in Fred’s scent as he rested his cheek on my shoulder, his hair tickling my ear.

I looked at him, once again seeing those big doe eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He said, almost in a whisper, “I should’ve listened to you.”

I licked my lips, “You’re lucky the essay I worked on for three hours didn’t get ruined.”

Fred’s eyes lighted up, “Do you forgive me?”

I playfully rolled my eyes at him, “I’m talking to you now, aren’t I?”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to my cheek, “See? You can’t stay mad at me for long?”

I raised a brow at him, “You want to test that theory out?”

His eyes widened, shaking his head vigorously, “No thanks.”

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝:

@lumosandnoxwriting @gostupid-godumb @famdomhideout @nova-darling @gaycatlord-stuff @pandaxnienke @escapingrealitybyreading @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts (Send a Message/Ask or fill out my taglist form if you want to be added!)

#fredweasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fredweasleyimagines #fred weasley fluff #fredweasleyfanfic #fredweasleyoneshots #fredweasleysmut #fred weasley angst #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fredweasleyfic #weasley #hpimagines #hponeshots

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weasel-b33 · 4 years ago

Text

500 Miles (j.p x fem!reader)

Description: A few years after the birth of your son Harry, you and your husband James recall the beginning of your relationship. (NO VOLDY I CAN NOT DO THAT TO MYSELF)

Warnings: Fluff, Kissing, A little Swearing, idk Cute Daddy James, Prolly many spelling errors I wrote this late and I am very tired...

(THIS IS MY FIRST TIME EVER WRITING SOMETHING KINDA SIRIUS hehe SO IM SORRY IF IT IS TERRIBLE)

Also the dates may be a bit wrong so im sorry in advance!!

italicized is flashback!!

Lyrics used in the song are from “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)” by The Proclaimers (I KNOW THE SONG CAME OUT IN ‘87 BUT SUSPEND YOUR DISBELIEF PLEASE)

(not my gif)

The rambunctious laughter of the four year-old toddler and his father echoed throughout the large estate.

“Daddy!” exclaimed the messy haired Harry, “Can I please have a story.” Heavily emphasizing the puppy dog eyes he learned from his godfather, Sirius, a few years prior.

James Potter, the man unable to say no to anyone, tried to recall a story he had not told his son. Thinking back to the fairy tales of a prince slaying a fictional dragon, even though they are very much real, to save the princess that his mother used to tell him, James realized he was all out of good material.

“I’m sorry bubs, I have nothing new too share,” the bespectacled man added lamely. The disappointment was instant on the child’s face, but luckily before the waterworks began, Y/N Potter strolled through the foyer into the den.

“Mommy!” Harry exclaimed, jumping up and bonding over to his mother, nearly knocking her over with his brute strength.

“Umph- Where’s the fire lovey?” you questioned with a slight chuckle. The dramatics of your son were never a surprise. Between his father and Sirius, you were surprised he had not acted much worse. Walking, more like sliding due to the child gripping your calves, over to your husband and lightly pecking his lips you ask,

“What’s wrong now?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, he sheepishly stated, “I sorta don’t have a new story to tell him... he’s a bit peeved, if you couldn’t tell.”

A loud laugh tore through your throat as you pet your son’s hair affectionately.

“Come off Harry, Mommy has a perfect story to tell you,” you crooned softly.

“You do?”Harry questioned, rubbing the tears out of his stunning green eyes.

You picked him up and sat down near James, “Yes poppet, I have a very interesting story about how two very special people fell in love.”

James quickly turned his head and quirked a questioning brow, “It all started when they were 15...”

November 7, 1975

Quietly sitting on the vermilion couch of the Gryffindor Common Room, you began to fade out the noise of Lily ranting about the recent History of Magic exam, and Marlene’s long monologue over if she should or should not cut bangs. Instead, you were beginning to rip out each and every one of the hairs on your head because your Potions essay was nearly finished, yet you could not get those final words to conclude it all.

Across the common room, a rowdy group of teenage boys, better known as the Marauders, were planning the newest prank on Snape.

"We should give him that shampoo that will change his hair pink,” Sirius added.

Remus shook his head disapprovingly, “Pads, we did that last time come on..”

“WE HAVE NOTHING! WHAT IS WRONG WITH US, MOONY, HELP I’M DYING OF NO CREATIVITY!” Sirius exclaimed throwing himself across the scarred boy.

Although, many people turned their attention to the dark haired pureblood, James seemed he could not take his eyes off the girl nearly burning holes into her parchment, the girl he has fancied since he was 12.

While playing with the snitch he stole, he said, “What if we tried that new rain spell we learned in charms today?”

“Too difficult, we have not had enough practice.” Remus dismissed. “Well what if I found someone to practice on?” James added quickly turning to face his werewolf best friend.

“Sure... Whatever, I could care less- Pads, get the bloody hell of me before I kick your arse,”

“I’D LIKE TO SEE YOU TRY REMUS JOHN,” Sirius yelled beginning his quick climb up the stairs to the boys dorm, with Remus and Peter quickly following.

“You comin’ Prongs?” Remus asked to the brunette still staring at the girl with shaky hands.

“No, I’ll come up in a few, still want to try to figure this prank out...” he said quietly. The lanky boy followed his best friends line of sight and quietly smirked to himself.

“Alright, don’t wear yourself out too much.”

Even throughout the commotion, you still made no move to change your line of sight. That was until Marlene nudged you and whispered into your ear.

“Psst! Oi! Y/N! Why is Potter staring at you?”

You quickly shook your head and waved off her question, opting to continue to find the right words.

Well until your blonde friend gripped your jaw, and turned your head to the direction of the boy. You instantly made eye-contact with the messy haired Gryffindor and quirked a brow. He smirked and turned his head away. You thought nothing of the interaction, until you felt a sudden drop above your head...

Instantly, it seemed as though there was a storm in the common room. Looking towards the ceiling you saw the dark rain cloud above your head. Quickly turning your head to the essay you were writing you noticed it completely wet and ruined. You jumped into action, trying to salvage what you could, but it was too late. Ignoring the screeches of your friends and fellow housemates, you began to look for the source of the cloud.

That was until you made eye contact with the laughing and smug James Potter.

“POTTER!” you yelled. Almost immediately the rain stopped, but the damage had been done. “JAMES POTTER! YOU BETTER HAVE A REASON YOU STARTED A STORM IN THE COMMON ROOM!”

Hearing the commotion, the rest of the Marauders came down to the common room to witness what was happening. But all they saw was a yelling match between you and their brunette best friend.

“YOU ARE A DICK JAMES POTTER! KARMA IS A BITCH AND SHE IS COMING! IT’S GONNA BE SO NICE TO SEE YOUR FACE WHEN ALL YOUR ACTIONS FINALLY COME TO KICK YOU IN THE ARSE!” you yelled.

“What? I did nothing, I don’t mean to dampen your mood, but I have no idea what you are on about.” James replies smugly.

“UGH- YOU ARE A BULLY AND A RIGHTEOUS, STUCK UP, EGOTISTICAL ARSEHOLE! I HOPE YOU ARE ENJOYING THIS BECAUSE-- OH MY! I-” You were quickly being dragged away by your red head companion.

“Y/N, he is not worth it... let’s just leave.”

“NO! I HAVE TO RESTART MY ESSAY! I WAS THIS BLOODY CLOSE. UGH- YOU ARE AN ARSE JAMES POTTER I HOPE YOU KNOW THAT!”

“Y/N, it was just a prank, its no big deal relax.” James said.

“RELAX! ARE YOU KIDDING... I-” you paused taking shallow and rapid breaths, ‘you know I can not believe you think its funny. You truly have no regard for people and how they feel do you?” you asked slowly and meticulously.

“Prongs, just apologize and lets go..” Remus said quickly.

“I- I didn’t realize it would be that big of a deal.” James tried to say to you, but it was no use because you had already dragged Lily and Marlene out the common room and to the library to re-start your assignment.

“Oh, COME ON! I did not” James stated jokingly.

“Darling, you must certainly did, I barley passed that essay as well. I blame you for me getting an E in that class.” You replied giggling.

“Moooommmyyy! Story, get back to the story,” Your son said dramatically, grabbing your cheeks and turning to face him for extra effect.

Hearing a chuckling from James in the background, “Alright bubs, back to the the story”

January 23, 1976

After months of back and forth between you and James, he was fed up trying to get your attention. From roses to chocolate, to even a firework show in your honor, James believed he had done everything to apologize to you for his stupid prank and prove his affection.

Tired of his friends constant whining, Remus and Sirius decided to take matters into their own hands and talk to someone who knew you better than anyone else, Lily and Marlene.

“Oh Evans, Mckinnon, we are in grave need of your beautiful minds” Sirius flirted. Remus smacked him across the head adding, “Ignore the git, we need some help its about-”

“James?” Lily and Marlene said in unison.

“Yeah...how did you know” Remus questioned. “Are we gonna ignore the fact they spoke at the same time” Sirius said, once again receiving a blow from his friend.

Rolling her eyes, Lily remarked, “Well, Y/N has been complaining about him for months,” Marlene quickly interjected, “...and you never are without him so its an easy assumption.

Now its was the boys turn to roll their eyes to the back of their heads. “Anyways, he will not shut up about getting her to forgive him... so we were wondering if you had anything that could work to get her to forgive him?” Remus pleaded with the best Sirius puppy dog eyes he could muster.

“Fine,” Lily and Marlene said jointly.

“THEY DID IT AGAI- OH NOT YOU TOO AS WELL!” Sirius exclaimed rubbing the now sore bump on his head.

Ignoring the dog’s dramatics, the group of four began conducting a plan for James that would knock Y/N’s socks off.

At this point, Harry had nestled between his parents and fell into a deep sleep.

The two of you put him to bed and settle down back into the living room.

Looking longingly at his wife, James says, “Well, might as well finish the story love... it is the best part.”

Giggling at the antics of your husband, you shrug and began to finish the story...

February 14, 1976

The Great Hall looked as though Cupid had just went on a decorating rampage. The room lined with pink and red hearts and the sight of loving couples nearly made you want to gag. Then, you remembered the boy who has dying to get your attention for the past months and can not seem but to get excited.

What does he have planned for you? Is he gonna get me a gift? Do I look presentable?

“WHAT!” you quickly think to yourself, “Why in Merlin’s name am I excited to to see Jame- Potter. Godric I can’t feel like this for him... He his as a fly that buzzes and will not leave me alone... but he is not the worst to look at”

You quickly snap out of your thoughts as Lily starts to put food onto your plate. You begin to eat, but can only think of one thing.

James Potter.

“Why?” You begin questioning again, “Godric, Y/N You like him... No I do not.. You realize you are having this whole conversation within your brain, right? It is obvious you like him...” you grumble to yourself as you realize your psyche has won once again.

Lily noticing your strange behavior begins to question if you discovered what they have planned.

Almost as though the boys heard Lily’s thoughts the beginning of the plan is activated.

Instantly, the candles in all of the Great Hall extinguish and there is the beginning of a song plays.

Suddenly, a spotlight shines onto the teachers table where atop, James and the rest of the Marauders stand, Remus and Sirius with guitars and Peter on the drums. James holding a mic begins to sing...

When I wake up, Well I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who wakes up next to you.

Your head snaps to the noise and there you see in all of his glory, James Potter holding a microphone staring straight at you.

When I go out, yeah I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who goes along.

Quickly shoving the breakfast roll down your throat you nearly choke as you see the boy slowly make his way towards the front of the Gryffindor table.

When I get drunk, well I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you.

Your eyes widen comically when you see James Potter jump onto the Gryffindor table.

And when I haver, hey I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who's havering to you.

Slowly, the boy begins his walk across the table to where you sit. You try to make a run for it, but Lily and Marlene quickly grab your arms and anchor you down to the bench

“What friends you are!” you hiss at the two.

Marlene just rolls her eyes and Lily pinches your hip.

And I would roll 500 miles And I would roll 500 more Just to be the man who rolls a thousand miles To fall down at your door

Once the boy is standing in front of you he reaches down for your hand. Stubbornly, you ignore his gesture, well until your two friends throw you up onto the table with the love struck brunette.

When I come home well I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who comes back home to you And when I grow old, well I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who's growing old with you.

You grip onto the boys biceps for stability and are forced to look into his ravishing hazel eyes...

In that moment you forget all that he has done to you in the past and all you can think about is him and you.

But I would roll 500 miles And I would roll 500 more Just to be the man who roles a thousand miles To fall down at your door.

Smiling, to yourself, you grab the face of the boy in front of you and mold your lips together. Ignoring the cheers of your classmates, the only sounds you hear are the background noise of the boy’s best friends signing backup.

Da da da Da da da Da Da Dun Diddle Un Diddle Un Diddle Uh Da Da.....

Smiling to yourself and grabbing the hand of the man you love you start laughing.

“What’s so funny, love?” James asks.

“Nothing.... Just we began dating because you performed a whole song and dance in front of the entirety of Hogwarts.” you reply breathlessly.

“Well, hey, look at us now... happy, healthy, and a true family.” he replies smiling at your antics.

You lay down your head into the lap of your husband, and look up into his hazel eyes you got lost into all those years ago, “Such a sap, Potter, such a sap...”

Kissing your cheek softly, “Only for you, my darling girl... only for you...”

“I love you Jamie”

“I love you more, my love.” ______________________________________________________________

AHHH I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!! IM SORRY IF IT IS SO BAD!! THIS IS MY FIRST FIC PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I COULD DO ANYTHING BETTER!!! AHHHH (but like kinda like this story... kinda proud ;))

#james potter #james potter x y/n #james potter x reader #harry potter #fluff #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter x you #marauders x reader #james peter remus sirius #fem!reader #songfic #500 miles

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fortunatelyfresco · 4 years ago

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A Holistic Integration of Type 1 Narcolepsy into the Reading of Moist von Lipwig

Literary Interpretation, Disability, and Finding Yourself Between the Lines

As it goes, "I wrote this for me, but you can read it if you want." It might be a fun ride for anyone who is very interested in Moist von Lipwig, or narcolepsy, or both, and/or anyone who enjoys collecting small details from within a body of work and arranging them into threads that are supportable by the text, without being actually suggested by it.

Personally, I find it very interesting to read the meta behind different headcanons, and see how creators can unintentionally write a character who fits certain criteria. There are only so many traits, after all, and some of them tend to travel in groups! Humans are pattern seekers, etc etc.

The first step of reading Moist von Lipwig as narcoleptic is wanting to read Moist von Lipwig as narcoleptic. Being narcoleptic myself and relating heavily to Moist, this step was very easy. I invite you to take my hand and come along, at least briefly, if you were interested enough to click the readmore.

Once you have taken that step, things start falling into place. At least they do if you're intimately familiar with narcolepsy, or if you first learn about it in detail through, for instance, a Tumblr post with an agenda :)

I'll break this down symptom by symptom, citing only the ones I both have personal experience with and see textual support for.

I'll be using OverDrive's search function to catalogue "evidence" in (the American editions of) Going Postal, Making Money, and Raising Steam, so I might miss passages that don't use certain keywords.

Please take any statements along the lines of "being narcoleptic means X" with a huge grain of salt. Sometimes it's just more succinct. Narcolepsy can manifest in many different ways, and is still being actively studied. Don't base your entire understanding of it on a fandom essay I wrote to cope with the crushing pressures of capitalism. I have not even fully read the scientific studies linked here as sources.

Here we go! Spoilers abound.

I. Excessive Daytime Sleepiness (EDS) and sleep attacks.

Being narcoleptic means (salt now, please) that your brain does not get adequate rest while you sleep, no matter how much you sleep. This is because of a disturbance in the order and length of REM and NREM sleep phases. This leads to constant exhaustion. Some sources describe narcoleptic EDS as "comparable to [the sleepiness] experienced by a healthy individual who has been sleep-deprived continuously for 48–72 hours."

(Source.)

Sleep attacks can come on gradually or suddenly. In my case, I become irritable and easily overwhelmed, and nothing matters except finding a place to lie down. A more severe attack, under the right circumstances, can put me to sleep while I'm actively trying to stay awake and engaged.

Moist refers to 6:45 am as "still nighttime." He is "allergic to the concept of two seven o'clocks in one day" and is "not good at early mornings," and the narration even cites this as "one of the advantages of a life of crime; you didn't have to get up until other people had got the streets aired."

In Going Postal, he repeatedly falls asleep at his desk. I can only find two instances, but the first one describes it as having happened "again," so it happens at least three times over the course of one week. Both of the times I found were after Mr. Pump cleared his apartment, giving him access to a bed, and I can't find any reference to the fire destroying it—just that his office is "missing the whole of one wall." His presumably wooden desk is still intact, even, just "charred."

There's also no build-up either time. No direct narration of the time right before he falls asleep, just retroactive accounting for it.

Which is primarily a function of stories not showing us every boring second, and secondarily one of the smaller ways we're shown Moist being overwhelmed and racing to keep up with himself, but tertiarily it's a great set dressing if you've already decided he's narcoleptic. Sometimes sleep is just a thing that happens, without any deliberate transition. Sometimes you sit down to catch your breath or get some paperwork done, and wake up several hours later.

I've found only one example in GP of Moist waking up in his actual bed at the post office: the morning after being possessed by all the undelivered letters. Presumably either they put him there, or Mr. Pump did.

There are two points in Making Money where Moist, in an effort to be a comforting and/or guiding hand, advises people to get some sleep. First Owlswick Jenkins, and then one of the clerks (Robert) who is worried about Mr. Bent.

I take the optimistic view that this is Moist genuinely caring about these people, not just trying to get them to do what he wants. He has always done some combination of those things (GP opens with him having befriended his jailers, after all), but there's definitely a thread of him learning to treat both himself and those around him more like real people. (See also.)

Looking at this thread through narcolepsy-colored lenses, you get Moist perhaps drawing from his own experiences in an effort to be helpful. In Owlswick or Robert's position, what is something he would want to hear from the man currently in charge of his fate, or at least his job? "Get some sleep."

If we accept this as a pattern, it culminates in Raising Steam, when Moist starts to worry about "Dick Simnel and his band of overworked engineers," fixating particularly on their lack of sleep.

What sleep they got was in sleeping bags, curled up on carriage seats, eating but not eating well, just driven by their watches and their desire to keep the train going.

[...]

"People are going to die if we push them any further," he said to Dick. "You lot would rather work than sleep!"

[...]

The young man swayed in front of him and Moist's tone became gentle. "And I see now that part of my job is to tell you that you need some rest. You've run out of steam, Dick. Look, we're well on the way to Uberwald now, and while it's daylight and we're out of the mountains it's going to be the least risky time to run with minimum crew. We're all going to need our wits about us when we get near the pass. Surely you can take some rest?"

Simnel blinked as if he'd not seen Moist the first time, and said, "Yes, you're right."

And Moist could hear the slurring in the young man's speech, caught him before he fell and dragged him into a sleeping compartment, put him to bed, and noted that the engineer didn't so much fall asleep as somehow flow into it.

Moist then recruits Vimes to help him talk the rest of the engineers into getting some rest. The two of them briefly commiserate about people not realizing how important it is.

"I have to teach that to young coppers. Treasure a night's rest, I always say. Take a nap whenever you can."

"Very good."

II. Insomnia.

This is a lesser-known but very common symptom of narcolepsy. Or a comorbidity, depending on how you look at it. It seems counterintuitive if narcolepsy has been presented to you as "sleeping all the time," but it makes sense once you know it's really a matter of disruption in the brain's ability to regulate sleep cycles.

The case for this symptom is flimsier, and I fully admit I'm just reading my own experience into it. But here are two excerpts from Going Postal that I find quite suitable for my sleepy agenda:

1. "A man of affairs such as he had to learn to sleep in all kinds of situations, often while mobs were looking for him a wall's thickness away."

I latched hard onto this detail the first time I read GP.

At my worst, I could not get more than a couple hours of sleep in my bed. I kept taking naps in the bath because it was one of the few places I could sleep. It seemed to fulfill some of the criteria (isolation, temperature control, etc) that my brain demanded in exchange for playing nice.

We're told over and over again, throughout Moist's books, that he functions best under pressure.

(Brief aside: This is often cited as a reason to interpret Moist as having ADHD, which I'm also fully on board with. Not coincidentally, narcolepsy and ADHD share a few symptoms, have a notable comorbidity rate, and are treated with some of the same medications. Source.)

So again, if you're already inclined to read Moist as narcoleptic, the following is an easy jump:

"Moist thinks he's good at sleeping in strange places under strange circumstances. This is because A) his basis for comparison is a disordered attempt to sleep in normal places under normal circumstances, B) something about danger satisfies his brain into running more smoothly, and C) he's a resourceful person who is 'not given to introspection,' and so is less likely to wonder why his body demands sleep at strange times and more likely to focus on finding a place for that sleep to happen, and chalk this up later as a skill."

And returning briefly to EDS: Why would someone like Moist waste time finding a safe place to sleep while people are actively trying to kill him? At the beginning of GP, he leaves Vetinari's office and immediately goes on the run. In multiple books, when he feels threatened, his brain instinctively launches into complex escape plans. We see him successfully blend into an Ankh-Morpork crowd at least once after becoming a public figure.

So why bother? After all, a safe place to sleep is also a safe place to change clothes, or at least remove whatever distinguishing features he's given himself. Why wouldn't he just become someone else and leave town immediately?

The obvious answer is that sometimes things just happen, and an author doesn't need to know or explain every single detail of a character's past.

I would suggest, though, that one of those things might be Moist reaching a point where sleep is just not optional. A point where he not only doesn't, but can't, care about anything else. Where he is too tired to think straight, too tired to talk his way out of trouble, too tired to even contemplate the long journey from one town to the next.

2. "Moist knew he ought to get some sleep, but he had to be there, too, alive and sparkling."

Sometimes (especially in combination with underlying mental health issues) narcoleptic sleep deprivation can bypass everything I've described so far, and lead straight into a manic state. You won't necessarily find that on Google, but it's been my experience.

That's obviously not what the text is implying. "Alive and sparkling" is just a very relatable description. And we do often see Moist getting away from himself, speaking without thinking, making absurd promises that he justifies immediately afterwards as Just Part Of Being Him, always raising the stakes.

And here are a couple of excerpts from Raising Steam that could be interpreted as Moist being a light sleeper, AKA struggling to get deep sleep:

1. "And slowly Moist shut down, although a part of him was always listening to the rhythm of the rails, listening in his sleep, like a sailor listening to the sounds of the sea."

2. "All Moist's life he'd managed to find a way of sleeping in just about every circumstance and, besides, the guard's van was somehow the hub of the train; and although he didn't know how he did it, he always managed to sleep with half of one ear open."

Moist is exactly the kind of opportunist to see that as a useful tool, isn't he?

III. Hypnagogic and Hypnopompic Hallucinations.

These are hallucinations that come on as you're falling asleep or waking up. They can also happen during REM intrusions while you're awake. My most memorable ones include piano notes, someone calling my name, being trapped in the waves of a large body of water, and a huge truck going over a guard rail and tumbling down a hill. These are often, but not always, accompanied by sleep paralysis (and sleep paralysis is often, but not always, accompanied by hallucinations).

In GP, Moist casually cites his own hallucinations as proof that what is happening at the post office is not one.

"They're all alive! And angry! They talk! It was not a hallucination! I've had hallucinations and they don't hurt!"

Obviously that's not true for everyone, but it's true for Moist, and he has enough experience that he immediately recognizes the difference.

At one point while awake, Moist "[snaps] out of a dream of chandeliers" to realize someone has approached him to talk, while he was busy having visions of what the post office used to look like/could look like again.

Now, that's cheating, because we're probably supposed to assume it's a side effect of being possessed, but... I'm putting it here anyway.

There is also perhaps a case to be made for the tendency of Moist's internal monologue to lapse into extremely specific and prolonged hypotheticals. The lines between hallucinations, waking dreams, and "regular" daydreams have always been very blurry to me. I'm especially curious about the example at the end of Going Postal, which goes like this:

"Look, I know what I'm like," he said. "I'm not the person everyone thinks I am. I just wanted to prove to myself I'm not like Gilt. More than a hammer, you understand? But I'm still a fraud by trade. I thought you knew that. I can fake sincerity so well that even I can't tell. I mess with people's heads—"

"You're fooling no one but yourself," said Miss Dearheart, and reached for his hand.

Moist shook her off, and ran out of the building, out of the city, and back to his old life, or lives, always moving on, selling glass as diamond, but somehow it just didn't seem to work anymore, the flair wasn't there, the fun had dropped out of it, even the cards didn't seem to work for him, the money ran out, and one winter in some inn that was no more than a slum he turned his face to the wall—

And an angel appeared.

"What just happened?" said Miss Dearheart.

Perhaps you do get two...

"Only a passing thought," said Moist.

In-universe... what is Adora reacting to? What did just happen? The fact that these incidents are not isolated to Going Postal is a point against it being some sort of literal timeline divergence caused by The Spirit Of The Post.

So maybe Moist visibly zoned out. Maybe he had some kind of minor but noticeable cataplexy attack (more on those later) as part of a REM intrusion, brought on by the intense emotions he's currently struggling with.

IV. Vivid Dreams.

Again, at least some of this is probably supposed to be part of the possession, but I've been professionally projecting myself onto the surreal dreams of magically afflicted characters for years. Do try this at home.

1. "Moist dreamed of bottled wizards, all shouting his name. In the best tradition of awaking from a nightmare, the voices gradually became one voice, which turned out to be the voice of Mr. Pump, who was shaking him."

2. Moist is uneasy about the Smoking Gnu's plan, and then he has an extremely detailed dream about the Grand Trunk burning down.

This culminates in "Moist awoke, the Grand Trunk burning in his head," followed by a paragraph of him thinking things through and starting to form his own alternative plan, followed immediately by "Moist awoke. He was at his desk, and someone had put a pillow under his head."

So he fell asleep at his desk, woke up from a vivid nightmare, was awake just long enough for a coherent train of thought, and then passed back out. Which once again is not "proof" of anything, but fits the predetermined interpretation like a glove.

V. Cataplexy.

Cataplexy is a sudden loss of muscle control, usually triggered by strong emotions. This is thought to be a facet of REM intrusion—waking instances of the atonia that is meant to stop us from acting out our dreams.

The most well-known manifestation is laughter making your knees buckle, but it's not always that severe. My own attacks range from facial twitching, usually when I'm angry or otherwise extremely upset, to all-over weakness/immobilization and near-collapse when I laugh. My knees have fully buckled once or twice.

This is the biggest stretch. This is the one that is absolutely only there if you've already decided to read entire novels between the lines. It's also not even necessary for the broader headcanon; plenty of people have narcolepsy without cataplexy (or such mild cataplexy that it's never noticeable, or very delayed onset, etc).

However. I am doing this for fun. So I want him to have it. It's also become a major part of how I imagine Moist engaging with emotion, and I'd like to make a case for that.

There are a few scattered references to Moist's legs shaking, or being unsteady, or outright giving way, but there's usually an external physical reason, and/or enough psychological shock to justify it without a medical condition.

The most compelling example I've found so far comes from Moist and Adora's conversation about people expecting Moist to deliver letters to the gods.

"I never promised to—"

"You promised to when you sold them the stamps!"

Moist almost fell off his chair. She'd wielded the sentence like a fist.

"And it'll give them hope," she added, rather more quietly.

"False hope," said Moist, struggling upright.

"Almost fell off his chair" at first sounds like casual hyperbole, but then "struggling upright" implies it was a bit more literal. It's also an accurate description of me recovering from my more severe attacks, supporting myself on a wall or my spouse, or pushing myself up if I've fallen over in bed.

That happens to me multiple times per day, by the way. It doesn't bother me, and I didn't realize there was anything unusual about it for a long time. I barely think about it, except to fondly note that my spouse is good at making me laugh.

Which is to say, even severe cataplexy is not always noticeable or debilitating. Sometimes it absolutely is! It can be downright dangerous, depending on where you are, what you're doing, and whether you have any other conditions it might exacerbate. I don't want to undermine that.

I am just hell-bent on justifying the idea that this fictional character could have repeated attacks throughout the canonical narrative that are so routine they don't merit an explanation, or even a description. Especially for someone who is used to hiding his few distinguishing features behind false ones that are much more memorable. (See also.)

(That link goes to my own fanfic. Sorry.)

On the milder side, between Going Postal and Making Money, there are three instances of Moist's mouth "dropping open" when he's shocked, upset, confused, or some combination of the three. This is the kind of thing that shows up a lot in fiction, but rarely happens so literally in real life.

(There's technically a fourth instance, but I'm not counting it because it seems to be a deliberate choice on his part to convey surprise.)

And then there's laughter. Or rather, there isn't. I could be missing something, but I've searched all three books for instances of laughter and various synonyms (not counting spoken "Ha!"s), and what I've come up with is:

Moist laughs once in Going Postal, when he receives the assignment for the race to Genua.

Two packages were handed over. Moist undid his, and burst out laughing.

There's also an instance earlier in the book where Moist nearly "burst[s] out laughing."

I find the specifics here interesting, and, for our purposes, fortuitous. Cataplexy is complicated and presents differently for everyone. In my case, when laughter triggers an attack, one of the effects (which is sometimes also a cause) is that I laugh very hard, with little or no control. "Burst out laughing" is quite apt.

Let's move on to Making Money, and start with a quick tangent:

Mr. Bent explains that he has no sense of humor due to a medical condition, and that he isn't upset about this and doesn't understand why people feel sorry for him.

Moist immediately starts in with "Have you tried—" before getting cut off by the frustrated Bent.

Out-of-universe, "Have you tried" is such a well-known refrain to anyone with an incurable condition, I'm not at all surprised to find it in a book written by someone who had at least begun the process that would lead to a diagnosis of early-onset Alzheimer's. And Pratchett has certainly never shied away from portraying ignorance in his protagonists.

In-universe, it feels a little odd. Moist's tongue runs away from him all the time, but usually in the form of making ridiculous claims or impossible promises. Moist's entire stock-in-trade is People Skills, and it feels strange for him to make this kind of mistake immediately after being told Mr. Bent is not looking for solutions.

But if one were reading with, for instance, the idea in mind that Moist himself has an incurable condition related to laughter and is enthusiastic about, but still relatively new to, the practice of drawing on his own experiences to help people... it is easy to imagine the gears in his head turning the wrong way, superimposing those experiences over the tail end of Mr. Bent's explanation. Disabled people are not immune to these well-meaning pitfalls.

There is another Mr. Bent moment that I want to discuss, but we'll circle back around to it later.

I found two instances of Moist himself laughing in MM.

1. "He said it with a laugh, to lighten the mood a little."

This is deliberate laughter, employed as a social tactic. A polite chuckle, probably. Not the sort of thing that generally triggers cataplexy.

2. "Moist started to laugh, and stopped at the sight of her grave expression."

The first and only involuntary laugh in MM. It doesn't always trigger attacks...

Which brings us to Raising Steam. Compared to the first two books, Moist laughs a lot here. I count nine instances. Two of them are "burst out laughing"s, a couple include him as part of a group, some of it comes off as deliberate, and some of it doesn't.

I've always seen a lot of... rage in Raising Steam. Combing through it for laughter, I realized Moist's emotions in general are much closer to the surface here, and he's much less concerned about letting people see them. He laughs with friends and acquaintances, he cries in front of strangers, he shouts at Harry King, he has that entire conversation with Dick that boils down to "I'm very worried about you," etc.

Opinions vary wildly and sharply on Raising Steam. I have my own hangups with it, as I do with most books in the series. (Every time I make a new Discworld post, Tumblr passive-aggressively suggests the tag "my kingdom for a discworld character who is normal about women and other species.")

But I like this particular change in Moist, and I choose to see it as character development. He's trading in the professional detachment of a conman for the ability to grow into himself as a person and make meaningful connections.

So, what does that have to do with cataplexy? A lot.

I don't want to get too maudlin, so I'll just say I have plenty of personal experience with emotional repression masking cataplexy symptoms. And so, I believe, does the version of Moist we've put together over the course of this post.

Which brings us back to Making Money, and Mr. Bent. He says something about Moist that I find very interesting: "I do not trust those who laugh too easily."

Unless I've missed something, at that point in the book, Moist has never actually laughed in front of him. And Mr. Bent is a man who pays very close attention to details.

So, what is the in-universe explanation for this? I'd like to propose that Moist is very skilled at seeming to laugh, without actually laughing. He smiles, he's friendly, and he makes other people laugh, which is another thing Bent dislikes about him. He gives the impression of being someone who laughs a lot. (He certainly left that impression on me; I was very surprised by the lack of examples in the first two books.)

Even staying strictly within the bounds of canon, it's easy to imagine why this might have become part of Moist's camouflage in his previous life. He wasn't looking to get attached to anyone, and he didn't want anyone getting inside his head. Engaging with people genuinely enough to laugh at their jokes would run counter to both of those things, but some of his personas still needed to come off as friendly and sociable.

Still working within the canon, it makes sense to assume he's similarly distanced himself from emotion in general. He sits in a cell for several weeks without truly believing he's going to die. He's bewildered when Mr. Pump points out that his schemes have hurt innocent people. He has no idea what to do with his feelings for Adora. Etc.

Interpreting Moist as having cataplexy adds an extra element of danger. Moist thrives on danger, but there's a difference between the thrill of a con and the threat of sudden, uncontrollable displays of vulnerability. And so it becomes even easier to see him stifling his own emotional capacity.*

We meet Moist at a moment of great upheaval. He is forcibly removed from his cocoon of false identities, and pushed out into the world as himself. And we are shown and told throughout Going Postal that he does not know how to be himself. (See also.)

He is repeatedly stymied by his own emotions. He gets tongue-tied and confused around Adora, he snaps at Mr. Pump, he lashes out at Mr. Groat, he gets lost in school flashbacks when he meets Miss Maccalariat. This thread continues in Making Money, where the sudden reappearance of Cribbins immediately rattles him into making an uncharacteristic mistake.

I called him Cribbins! Just then! I called him Cribbins! Did he tell me his name? Did he notice? He must have noticed!

Later in the same book, Moist misses a crucial opportunity to run damage control on the bank's public image... because he's excited to see Adora.

The Moist of GP and MM is not used to feeling things so deeply. It throws him off his game. I'm not at all suggesting cataplexy is the only (or even primary) reason for that, but I do think there's room for it on both sides of the cause and effect equation.

With or without the cataplexy, I find Moist's relative emotional openness in Raising Steam... really nice. (It's a work in progress. He's still getting a handle on anger.)

Cataplexy just adds another dimension. A physical manifestation of emotional vulnerability, which would have been especially untenable for a teenager on the run. Just one more facet of the real, human, fallible Moist von Lipwig who spent years buried beneath Albert Spangler and all the rest.

Another piece of himself that Moist is growing to understand and accept, as he learns to more comfortably be himself.

The Moist of Going Postal runs into a burning building to save lives without fully understanding why he wants to, and justifies it on the fly as an essential part of the role he's trying to play.

The Moist of Raising Steam mindlessly throws himself under a train to save two children, and then blows up at Harry King about the lack of safety regulations. Freshly traumatized by the murder of several railway workers and his own violent, vengeful response to it, he still offers, in the face of Harry's own grief, to be the one to inform their families. On a long and dangerous journey with plenty of moving parts to think about, he worries about Dick Simnel and the other engineers, and pushes them to take better care of themselves.

He also meets a bunch of kids who nearly derailed a train as part of a childish scheme. His admonishment is startlingly vivid.

"Can you imagine a railway accident? The screaming of the rails and the people inside and the explosion that scythes the countryside around when the boiler bursts? And you, little girl, and your little friends, would have done all that. Killed a trainload of people."

[...]

"I'll square this with the engine driver, but if I was you I'd get my pencil and turn any clever ideas you have like this into a book or two. Those penny dreadfuls are all the rage in the railway bookshops."

Maybe what he is also saying, between the lines, is:

I left home at 14 and began a life of smoke and mirrors. I was empty inside, and I thought everyone else was, too. It was all fun and games, and then a man made of clay told me I was killing people. Nip it in the bud, child. Write books.

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

*There are studies suggesting that in addition to deliberately employed "tricks," people with cataplexy may experience physiological reactions in the brain meant to inhibit laughter. (Source 1, Source 2.)

Most of the information here is way over my head, but that second link also says "one region of the brain called the zona incerta (meaning 'zone of uncertainty') was only activated during laughter in people with narcolepsy, not in controls. Research on the zona incerta in animals suggests that it also helps to control fear-associated behavior."

The linked article about that (https://www.nature.com/articles/s41467-018-03581-6) is also over my head, but I would certainly describe Moist von Lipwig as having unusual fear responses.**

**Narcolepsy is a fun roller-coaster ride of constant scientific discoveries about exactly which parts of your brain are paying too much attention, not paying enough attention, or trying to eat each other.

#moist von lipwig #narcolepsy #discworld #disabled headcanons #oh my god this got so out of hand #earned itself a title AND a subtitle #mr. cybulskis i'm sorry i fell asleep in your class every day it was at the exact wrong time and temperature and lighting

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 3 years ago

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Personal life update, and for once this one isn’t terribly depressing (I mean, it touches on some depressing stuff about flaws in academic approaches to disability care, but still, by the standards of my usual personal posts it’s fairly sunshine and rainbows-y), as we finally approach that point of post-COVID real life coming back. Despite the fact that we are not actually post-COVID. But in the interests of maintaining what I said about not being too depressing, I won’t even dwell on that right now.

I just found out that I got the co-op placement I wanted, for which I spent way too many hours last week studying for an interview that ended up asking me almost none of the things I’d studied, and instead asking silly questions like how I define leadership and what qualities are found in a good team member. I prepared for an academic exam and ended up getting a normal job interview, and then spent all weekend convinced that because I’d insufficiently prepared my answer to job interview-type questions they wouldn’t be impressed and they’d give the spot to someone else who doesn’t know the material but can give a really good definition of the proper way to implement problem solving skills or whatever.

Anyway, that did not happen, they are giving me the spot, and in a couple of weeks I am going to finally be on track to finish the college program that I started at the beginning of 2020 and that was supposed to only take one year (I’ve done all the schoolwork, just had my in-person co-op term delayed for obvious reasons). And then I will have a diploma in the field of working with autistic people.

I made a post yesterday about a country singer who wrote a terrible song and sold it to a pop-country guy who made it really famous, and then took the money and clout he got from that and used it to make good music. I think... I think that’s generally sort of how I hope this works out, working in a field that has a lot of practices that are not great. You know, tell them the way they’re doing everything is right so they give me a diploma and then the best co-op placement (if I’d failed that interview I’d still have gotten placed somewhere, just in a program that’s lower-ranked than the one I got) and then hopefully a job, and then I can start to approach that job in a way that I realize won’t be implemented radical change, but hopefully at least can involve me not just following my professors’ explanations that stimming as a thing with no perceptible benefits and there’s no good scientific reason why it happens.

To get this far, when doing the academic parts of my college program, I have already written a lot of essays in which I wrote a lot of shit with which I disagree about what autism is and how it should be approached by those who work with autistic people (sorry “people with autism”, as I had to write in all my essays because all my academic materials use person-first language and I’d marked down for not doing so as well), and I’m really glad to be getting done with that. Just give me the diploma and let me out. Only then can I say, “Surprise! I was a secret autistic all along, spying on their organization!” Something that will definitely surprise them because the academic materials I’ve been given so far were clearly written by absolutely zero autistic people, and written with the assumption that no one taking the courses could be anywhere on that spectrum either.

Anyway, I’m pretty excited about getting this spot, because it’ll look great on my resume, and make me more likely to get a good job afterward, which I can use to both continue my adventures as an insider spy in that field, and to hopefully achieve a basic level of financial stability. I’ve spent the last ten or so days housesitting for someone who lives alone so I have a whole house to myself, and it’s going to be tough to go back to putting up with a roommate after this, so the financial stability thing is important. Finish school, then job, then enough financial stability to chase the big and outlandish dream of renting a one-bedroom apartment by myself, then use my status as a superspy to do good things in the deeply flawed field of trying to care for a vulnerable sect of the population - a sect to which I belong; and a field by which I’ve been failed pretty badly as a child, a teenager, and an adult. Big dreams.

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crash-cinematic-universe · 4 years ago

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rumor has it

pairing: peter maximoff/reader

summary: Idk if im doing it in the right one but whatever. Can you write a peter maximoff imagine where he has a girlfriend(reader) that has Allison Hargreeves powers from The Umbrella Academy - anon

warnings: none! peter is kind of Insecure but honestly when is he not

notes: this is a shor(er) and sweet one! it is 1 AM where i am so sorry if I missed some mistakes! im on the verge of collpase <3

taglist: @stranger-names @gooseyhouse @parkersdarling @amourtentiaa @toodles-me-doodles

“I heard a rumor you stopped talking,” You groaned, watching as Peter’s lips went from a blur to a thin line. He slumped over, pouting at you with puppy dog eyes. You just stared back at him, your eyebrows furrowed and shoulders tense. As much as you loved Peter, he could be a real pain in the ass sometimes.

“Peter, look, I know you’re bored, but Hank really needs this motor fixed and I promised him it would be done by tomorrow. I need to work, but I can’t focus with you here, dollface, you know that,” You attempt to cheer him up, but he’s still looking upset. “The minute this essay is complete you’ll have me all to yourself, no distractions. My one-hundred percent, undivided attention,”

“How long will that take?” The rumor had worn off, but you didn’t mind. Peter looked at you, and the slight feeling of regret washed over you. He was just bored, and probably a little lonely. To be completely honest, this project would probably take you the rest of the day to complete, and probably the better part of tomorrow. It was a complicated motor, and even though you’re quite handy, this type of project is always a challenge.

“The rest of today… probably a few hours tomorrow--” Peter sighed dejectedly and rested his chin on his arm. Disappointment was written across his face, and it seemed as if he was trying to hide it, albeit poorly. He understands that the work that you and Hank do is important, and he realizes that sometimes he can be a little overbearing, but lately you’ve been so busy he almost never gets to see you.

“Can’t you just rumor Hank into forgetting about the motor for today?” Oh, you’ve definitely considered it. You take Peter’s face in your hands.

“You know I can’t, Peter,” He leans into your touch. It’s adorable. “It’s a violation of the trust and boundaries we established. Plus, he’ll probably get pissed at me and rip me in half,”

“He’d have to go through me, first,” Peter laughed softly. There’s something eating away at him, the gnawing feeling of worry tearing at his stomach.

Peter Maximoff isn’t an idiot. He hears the whispers in the hallways, he sees the way the students look at him when he’s with you. They all think you can do better. They’ve all placed bets to see how long you last before you kick him to the curb. You’d think being a hero would make him more popular, but no. Peter Maximoff is just as much of a loser now as he was in high school, X-Men be damned.

So, yeah, Peter Maximoff isn’t an idiot, but he is a loser. He’s a loser in a mansion surrounded by people who aren’t losers-- more specifically, your socially anxious lab partner. Everyone expected you and Hank to eventually end up together; you were both science nerds, you both enjoyed relatively isolated events, and you both moved at the same pace. That’s probably why the entire mansion was shocked to its core when Peter wound up being your boyfriend. Of course, he loves you with everything he’s got, but there’s always that feeling of doubt settled over him. It was too much, it was all too much and he needed to get away.

“Whatcha’ thinking about, gorgeous?” Peter got so lost in thought, he forgot about the situation at hand.

“I-- ” He sounded uneasy. This is how everything unravels-- he gets too honest and scares you off. Peter didn’t pay attention in history class, but he’s pretty sure Rome fell because some old guy was insecure and drove his girlfriend away. “I just, uh, don’t really want to be alone right now.” Peter thought he sounded pathetic. You thought he sounded sweet.

You looked down at the motor on your desk, the tiny screws and mechanical components jumping out at you like your desk was a pop-art installation. With a smile and a shrug, you pushed away the bits and pieces and stood up, pulling Peter up with you.

“Hank is just gonna have to suck it up and wait another day,” Peter grins as you pull him close. You collapse on your bed, and Peter quickly gets comfortable beside you. His head is resting against your shoulder, and his long arms are locked around you. He plays with your fingers, examining every mark and every scar with the focus of a brain surgeon going into work. Sometimes you wondered if Peter was just trying to memorize every single feature and every little detail that you had. He was.

“Y’know, your mutation is so cool,” Peter muses. You press a light kiss of his temple. “You can literally get anything you want. You could get anyone to do anything for you at any given moment. Everyone in the world is like a video game character to you; all you have to do is give a command and we follow it,”

“I guess it’s alright,” You shrug.

“It’s amazing.” Peter’s fingers are drumming against your arms at an impossible speed, but you don’t mind. “You’re amazing.”

“You’re pretty cool, too,” The drumming comes to a sudden stop. The gentle rhythm of Peter’s breathing falters as well.

“Eh,” He mumbles. “Compared to everyone else, I’m pretty lame. Compared to you? I’m nothing more than a speck of dust in the galaxy that is you.”

“Aw, Peter, you don’t give yourself enough credit,” It makes you sad to hear him say negative things about himself, but that’s part of building confidence. Sometimes you just need to be proven wrong.

“Remember when you saved the entire mansion when Cerebro exploded? Or that time you kicked ass on that space mission we went on? If I tried to rumor you into being cool, nothing would happen because you’re already pretty amazing.”

“You really think so?” Peter looks up at you, and something about the look in his eyes makes you want to hold him close and never let him go.

“I know so.” For now, that was enough.

“Y’know, I heard a rumor that you loved me.” Peter jokes, glancing up at you. You look right back at him.

“That’s a beautiful rumor,” A smile grows on your face. Your companion seems content with that. “Funnily enough, I heard the same one about you.”

“Rumors travel on the devil’s radio,” Peter giggles. You wish you could put his laugh on a CD and keep it forever.

“Who knew the devil was such a romantic?”

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #wandavision #xmen #quicksilver #quicksilver x reader

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junova · 4 years ago

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↬ 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐭 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

abstract: the one where steve finds your love letters.

pairing: au!steve x fem!reader

word count: 3K+

warnings: cussing, fluff, angst, crying, slight self-deprecation.

[author’s note]: hey guys! i’m really new to the writing scene so kind words are appreciated! srsly just testing my writing style out and wanted to just post something to motivate me to keep writing. hope u like it. <3

also thank u ari for the inspo and that bomb ass album that saved twenty-twenty. now we just need biden to get elected.

ps. don’t forget to vote! <3

Stevie,

First and foremost, I want you to know how proud of you I am. You have become the man you’ve said you become, the one I always knew you would. You have finally seen what the rest of us see.

A good man.

The soul you carry within you shines brighter than I’ve ever seen. Just for that only, I’m thankful for the time we’ve spent together. Maybe one day, I’ll be brave enough to tell you this without hiding behind the comfort of this notebook. She won’t spill my secrets, fortunate for me.

Some days you have no idea how badly I want to tell you. I think it’s on the days I discover a new fleck of green in your eyes or maybe when you show up to class with a cup of coffee for me without request.

More. More. More.

It’s selfish of me, that much I know. More days than not, I would say you give too much of yourself away. Always wanting to appease everyone, you, Steven Rogers, the bridge to making the people around you happier than they walked in. Even when Bucky drags you into his nonsense bullshit, you say yes without hesitation.

I’ve got not a a clue on how you continue on, how you still remain you when you tend to spread yourself so thin. Who watches out for you? Who cares for you? Who loves the almighty, selfless Rogers?

For me, it’s much easier to pretend you carry too much on your plate than to deal with the rejection I would receive from you. You’re just too good, more than I deserve. More than I would be willing to take. I know I couldn’t possibly give you what you deserve but, I hope that one day you might see me differently. You would see me more than the light I’ve painted myself in.

Even though the shade is lovely, I want to be deeper. Deeper into you on a level which only seems unattainable at this point.

A forever friend. To be in your life, just as a friend, is an reward in itself.

But someday I hope you would love me in the same way I do. It’s all a love struck girl could do. Hope for the best, bet be prepared for the downfall.

With much love, your forever friend.

Tearing the page away from the binding of the overfilled notebook, dispensing it in the first empty drawer you could find, you abandoned the feelings as soon as the pen’s ink bleed out dry.

“You know it would just be easier to tell him how you feel.” You peaked up at the sound of her voice, before realizing she was looming over you, watching your write the letter.

Your supposed, secret letter.

“Nat, please. No.” Opening the drawer, she grabbed the letter but was surprised with just how many she found.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You’ve written about him multiple times?” You sank in the soft, plush material of your seat hoping that just maybe it would begin to swallow you whole. Hopefully, fast enough were you wouldn’t have to endure the rest of the conversation. One you had been trying to avoid, for the past three years.

“It’s nothing Nat, just forget it.” Just like a Romanov, she couldn’t leave it alone. Even if she tried it was laced in her blood to see any little thing through.

“You really shouldn’t wait so long. A window might close for you, much sooner than you think.” With a curious eyebrow lifted, you felt your breath leave you.

“What does that supposed to mean?” Steve certainly deserved the best and you knew it was only time for him to figure out you would never be enough for him.

“Peggy Carter.” Peggy.

The one girl of a sea of many who had been enamored by Steve. He never really seemed to spend anytime with the women who vied for his attention, but Peggy was surely different than the rest.

Even if Steve was oblivious when it came to the advances everyone would make on him, he saw Peggy. Considering she was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen, she intimidated you. God, did she ever.

On numerous occasions she and Steve had gone out, and even though he assured you they were just friends you were starting to believe he was only trying to protect your feelings. As a friend.

He had never cancelled on you once for her and he would tell you if he had started to date someone, just like he had before.

Even though the entire three years you’d known him he only had one serious girlfriend and after eight months, the pair broke up and even now he still didn’t budge on why they broke up.

“Steve can do whatever he wants with her. He’s a single man. He’s gone out with her before and he’ll probably go with her again.” Then Sam was the next to speak up, dismissing the total bullshit spouting from your mouth.

“Can’t you see he doesn’t want to? The damn man follows you around like a goddamn puppy.” Okay, when did he even come in here?

“God, fuck, no he doesn’t. He would have said something by now, he’s had three years and it’s been nothing but radio silence.” With an all knowing smirk, Sam proposed a new concept into question.

“It has been three years. So, have you ever said anything to him?”

Shit. Fuck you, Wilson.

“W-Well, not exactly.” Sam didn’t have to say anything in response. You knew he was right and you hated it.

Your unwillingness still stood for you, there was just no way he actually would reciprocate your feelings.

“Listen, I think it would be really good for the both of you to air everything out. Peggy is sinking her claws in him and it isn’t too long before they get stuck. Just talk to him.” You nodded silently, but you weren’t sure if you’d ever have the courage to.

—

Emptiness.

It’s all you seemed to feel today. Following you around was a dark cloud, looming over you. Wishing you could be anywhere but your own body. Nothing in particular happened to make you deserve the feeling you were granted with. It just so happened to be one of those days.

From the moment you got out of bed — or rather stayed in bed until four in the afternoon, you felt like anything you would have done just didn’t feel enough. The feeling was fleeting, never staying for more than a day or so, but it made the day drag on. Never ending.

Your muscles sore, body aching from the lack of activity your presumed. Or maybe you had built it in your head too.

Thankfully for you, Nat was busy helping Bucky move into his new place the entire day. She asked if you wanted to help, but mentally you didn’t feel you would be useful for anyone. Simply, telling her you would hang back, claiming you had another an essay to write.

Which you did, you weren’t completely lying, but there was more than your sour mood to blame for your dismissal of social interaction.

You hated to be that girl, the one who needed the presence of men. Specifically, the company of one very beautiful, blue eyed one.

His absence in your life the past few weeks felt heavier on you than you thought it would. You knew from Sam’s intel he had been hanging out with Peggy more and more. He said the two of them were getting close, mercifully sparing you the details.

You hated it’s you’d become. A girl so damn struck over a boy who was giving his attention elsewhere. Upset you were though. Before even if he was busy between classes and his internship at the gallery, he would still text to check up on you.

Now, it was nothing but radio silence letting you draw conclusions on your own. Very, very dangerous territory for you to travel to.

Steve and you are just friends. Get. Over. It.

You thought you’d be alone the rest of the Saturday, especially since it was nearly midnight. Figuring Nat was staying over at Bucky’s and Wanda leaving earlier in early hours of the morning to see her boyfriend for the entire weekend.

Then, an incredibly drunk Steve stumbled into your quaint apartment, the thoughtfully sweetness in him blubbering out with the alcohol flooding through his system. It was like he was on overdrive. More than ready to crash at any given moment.

You had enough when Steve started shamelessly raiding your kitchen, but you remained on the couch attempting to maintain some distance between the two of you. He had a history of being incredibly handsy whenever he had bit too much to drink.

Stumbling his way over to you, almost tripping on the rug, until he was basically cuddling up to your side. His arms latched tightly around you, pulling you into him. Not spared a choice, not that you’d want one.

The security of being wrapped up to him wasn’t something you ever grew tired of. You don’t think there would ever be a time you would ever be capable of turning him away.

“I’ve missed you. It’s been too long.” His soft tone, penetrating the tiny resistance you held towards him. “Me too. I was starting to think you disappeared on me, bubba.”

“Never.” His iron grip holding so tight like he was afraid you’d slip right through.

“Is everything alright?” Trying to pull from him, but Steve seemed unable to let you go. You whispered in his ear, caressing his back.

“I think so.”

“Here, let me grab you cup of joe and some water. Okay? I’ll be right back.” Leaving him a kiss on the cheek, before heading him into the kitchen.

If you had been around him recently, perhaps you would be more in tune with how he was feeling. Then the guilt sept in.

“Sweetheart, do you know where the phone charger is? It’s not by the recliner.” You heard him shout, trying to stop your heart from hammering into your stomach.

Just make him some coffee, sober him up, until he crashes.

Steve always seemed to be a lightweight and somehow whenever he did decide to drink he always found himself routing his way into your home. You thought it was simply for accident alone. The bar he frequented at was only a few block from you.

The past few times he would just stumble into your bedroom, immediately passing out in your soft, silky sheet. Now, he seemed to have more pressing matters at hand.

“Check the drawers, Stevie. I think there’s one you left around here somewhere.” You grabbed the filters and the grounds out, brewing the coffee. Soon, with a black cup of coffee and a water bottle in hand you took note of just how quite he was being.

He was never this silent and it was freaking you out.

“Are you sure you’re o-”

Just like that.

Fuck.

Hunched over, practically on his knees, he read over the endless letters you wrote about him. Confessions never meant to be seen by him. You lost track of how many you had written over the past few years once realized how irrevocably in love with him you are.

He didn’t realize you had found him and you were suddenly paralyzed. Unaware of your presence he continued to read through them and his expression was unrecognizable. One you’d never seen from him before, and you didn’t quite know how to react.

No. He wasn’t grimacing nor did he seem to be elated either. He just stood there just like you, afraid what would happen next.

What did this mean for the two of you? Your entire relationship was purely riding on whatever happened next.

Softly, with a gentle hand, he sifted through them all like he was looking for something specifically. Steve let them fall to the hardwood floors as your shaking hands could no longer support the weight of the dainty coffee cup he had actually sculpted himself.

The glass shattering everywhere, several pieces making their way towards him, thankfully not fiercely enough to penetrate his skin.

Truly, you had never been more sorry than when he looked up at you with tears in his eyes. Threatening to spill over. Because of you.

You didn’t have to be told, you already knew.

Carefully, Steve stood up making his way over to you around the shattered mug. Still you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Simply just watching him until he was right in front of you — more silent than you’d ever seen him before.

“Those were about me. Weren’t they?” You nodded having no reason to lie other than to protect yourself from a rejection you been hoping to spare yourself from.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this. Or at all really.” Your resolve dropping instantly when Steve took a step further gripping by your hips, pulling you closer.

“Why not?” He questioned you, again. Almost like he needed a verbal affirmation of every secret he had just read.

Unintentionally, stealing your soul served for him on a silver platter.

“I know how you’d feel about me, Steve. It’s not how I want it to be and it’s okay.” You remove yourself from him, traveling to the other side of the living room. Suddenly, the apartment seemed suffocating with him in it. “I’m fine, Steve.”

Hearing him sigh in frustration only furthered your immense feeling of being a burden to him.

You’re just one more obstacle he has to deal with.

“One of them dated back for over two years ago. Two fucking years.” His harsh tone, piercing through you like a knife.

“I know. I should have told you.” You whispered, wishing you could disappear into any abyss that would take you. Deeply wishing you just didn’t have to endure for the rest of this conversation. Wishing you could have stopped him from opening that stupid drawer. “I tell you everything, but I just couldn’t bring myself to speak about this. Look at how you’re reacting? How could you blame me when every fear I have about this is justified?”

You really should have kept those elsewhere, not your open, public living room.

“Because it’s us. I’m always here for you.” He was still crying through broken words and you didn’t know why. Almost like you had shattered his resolve and his control leaving with it.

“Not lately. You’ve been otherwise occupied.” Suddenly find the plant in the corner of the room. It certainly weren’t trying to distract yourself from the insatiable cerulean eyes.

The breathtaking british woman wasn’t even here and as soon as she was brought up — there was a wall. Seperating, you from whatever was between the two of you.

“This isn’t my fault. You never said anything. How was I supposed to know you feel that way about me?” He tried to make his way towards you but you just stalked off in the other direction. Circling around the living room like a coward.

“It didn’t matter though, did it? You found someone perfect for you regardless of how you feel.” God, you wish he would just leave so you could let the dam break.

“No. You don’t get to do that. Since the moment I met you I only had eyes for you, but you never seemed like you were interested. So, I dropped it. Okay? You never left me a crumb to think you would ever want to be more than just friends.”

“You were my best friend. You still are. No matter how I felt, it could never outweigh the need I have for you to be in my life.” He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. Trying to figure out what was next for the both of you. Steve always had to initiate and this time was no different.

“Peggy told me tonight she wants to be exclusive.” His confession washing over you like a ton of bricks. Crushing you.

You really couldn’t have any ill feeling towards her, she was just doing what you lacked the courage and the tenacity to do.

“But I didn’t really know what to do.” He took quiet steps towards you, not wanting to spook you. He voice not no longer held the a warmth of teddy bear, but a man on a mission rather took over.

Steve kept quiet until he had you backed up into a corner, no escape route in vision for you.

“’Cause there’s this other beautiful woman, absolutely breathtaking — and I just I really needed to know how she felt. If I had known before, I never would have gone anywhere else.” His hand caressing your soft, plump lips. Pulling on your bottom lip with his thumb, sending you into a frenzy.

“Then, I just wanted to forget about everything until Sam called me. Three beers deep, when he told me of a drawer filled with letters I should take a look at.” You could feel his breath on you, temple pressed against yours.

“I just need to hear you say it. Just once.” Taking it a step forward, intertwining your finger with his own.

“I love you.” It was all he needed as he sealed his own affirmation with a sweet kiss, inking your lips with all of his love.

#for the love of god let these tags work :/#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader fluff #steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers au #college!steve rogers #au #mcu #mcu fanfiction #fanfiction

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