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lene-loki · 3 years

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Never Too Close

Summary: After the events of Avengers: Endgame, (Y/N) Romanoff is mourning the death of her sister Natasha. She is unexpectedly finding comfort in the presence of someone who shares the pain of losing the people he loved.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff!Sister Reader

Warnings: Character Death, Spoiler for Avengers: Endgame, Angst, Grief, Suicidal Thoughts

Word Count: 2264 Words

A/N: I hope ya’ll liked this Imagine. Please let me know if you want to get tagged on future Imagines or Series that I want to write. This isn’t proofread and please excuse grammaticaly and verbal mistakes since English isn’t my mother tongue. And now please enjoy!! With Love, Léne xx

(Y/N) = Your Name

The pouring of the rain sounds like a faint whisper in the distance. When I close my eyes and listen precisely to the rustle I can almost hear the voice I long to hear. I open my eyes when the wind starts to blow into my ear, making my whole body shiver. A raindrop lands directly on top of my cheekbone and gets mixed up with a teardrop that escapes my eye. The wet droplet almost feels like a passing kiss. As if she is standing right beside me and kisses my tears away or maybe she cries from heaven herself and her tears end up on my face. I like to think that she watches me from above. Seeing my every move. Despite the rain a familiar warmth is spreading through my heart, making me feel safe and not alone anymore. My eyes blink the tears away, trying to focus on the words that are written on the wooden cross in front of me. The fact that her death is still so recent that she has to wait for a stone to mark her grave, makes me sob. I have looked so many times at that wooden cross that I started to hate it. She deserves a beautiful, carved stone. Not a dirty, broken cross where her name already starts to fade. But she has to wait. Her coffin isn’t set enough to put a heavy stone on top of the earth. I wipe the back of my hand over my tearstained cheeks before I kneel down in front of the grave. Everyday I bring a new kind of flowers by. Making the earth dissapear in a vibrant, little garden. It helps my own mental health to transform the place of grief into a little paradise for her. And I hope this is exactly where she’s at now. In a paradise. My eyes tear away from the flowers before I start counting them again like I always do. Because the number of the flowers is the number of the days since she passed away. My chest hurts, my heart starts to crumble inside when I once again think about the empty coffin under the ground. My sisters body dissapeard when she sacrificed herself to get the Soul Stone. Now all that remained of her is the memory.

Although it’s past midnight when I leave the graveyard I can’t help but to ring Clint out of his sleep - as well as his wife and his children probably. He picks up the phone with a yawn, his voice raspy from his deep sleep. He is the closest I have to family now and he knows. He always cared for me and Natasha and now that she’s gone he’s supporting me more than ever. Giving me a shoulder to cry on no matter how late it is. That is exactly whe he’s never annoyed when I call him at times like this. My loneliness leads the conversation as I tell him that I don’t know where to go. “Where are you right now, (Y/N)?” I shrug my shoulders even though he can’t see. “I think I’m near the Avengers compound.” My voice is barely louder than a whisper. My throats stil sore from my hour long crying at Natashas grave. “I can pick you up. You can stay at mines if you want.” He suggests and I can hear him fumbling with the bedsheets in the background. Ever since Natashas passing, I stayed at the Avengers compound in her former room. But sometimes it gets too much being surrounded by her memories and her whole life in just that little space. Everything in her room reminds me of her scent, her smile, her voice, the look in her eyes - especially that tiny twinkle in her iris that always appeared when she felt extremely proud of me. I have to pull myself together to not sob again and alarm Clint even more. As much as I want to escape from the compound for a little while, I don’t want to wear out Clints care for me. I feel like I already asked too much of him. “No, it’s okay. I’m sorry that I woke you.” I swallow the lump down in my throat in hopes he doesn’t hear how near I am to losing it all again. He sighs at the other end. “You’re sure?” “Yes.” “Okay, love. Don’t apologize for calling me.” His voice sounds so soft I could fall asleep immediately on the side of the road. He just has this soothing affect on me. I hang up after telling him that I love him and walk in the dim lights of the streetlamps to the compound.

Inside the building everything is pitch dark. The only light comes from Wandas room. It’s red and spreads in chaotic rays around the space of her own four walls. She surely is training her magic since she still hasn’t full control over her powers what burdened her more than usually the last couple of days. I decide not to disturb the Scarlet Witch and seek refuge in Natashas room. I really try to sleep but since Thanos happened my nights are as restless as my hurting heart. I’m still wide awake physically but dangerously exhausted mentally when I hear voices in the early morning hours in the kitchen. Wandas voice makes me wonder if she’s been awake the whole night as well. I leave the room in my short pyjama shorts and my plain white T-Shirt. I wouldn’t fall asleep anyway so I might as well just get up and start another day of inner misery. I round the corner to the kitchen island where Pepper placed a large bowl of exotic fruits on top. The blonde showed me a sad smile since she’s lost in her own grief. Pepper disappears out of the kitchen - leaving me alone with Wanda and a familiar brunette man which I recognize from Tony’s funeral. I can’t remeber his name but I recall the pained expression on his face and the devastated haze over his pupils. He seems like he always looks like pure misery. “Good morning.” I greet them both shyly since they haven’t notice me yet. Wanda immediately sends a heartful smile in my direction while the stranger’s corners of his mouth just twitch the slightest bit upward - almost to tiny to notice. I also perceive his new hairstyle. The last time I saw him he had messy, long waves. Longer than shoulder length and a full beard. Now he has his hair cut short and looking neat with his jawline covered in dark stubbles instead of the fullgrown beard. “Bucky, this is (Y/N). She is Natashas’ sister.” Wanda explains him in her thick, sokovian accent since he developed the same look of recognition on his face as me. Now the puzzle pieces click together. That is Bucky Barnes. Steves’ best friend and the other Super Soldier. His facial features unravel in realization. “Oh, right. Hello, (Y/N). Nice to meet you again and I’m... Sorry about your loss.” He frowns at the last part. “Thank you, it’s nice to see you again in less sorrowful circumstances.” I try to lighten up the mood a bit because I don’t want to start my day already with a bad encounter that reminds me once again how miserable I am inside. Unsure if we should shake hands, Bucky’s metal arm jerks briefly in my direction but he instantly lets it sink again - wrapping the room in an uncomfortable silence. “Well it was nice to see you again. I got to go now.” I excuse myself from the weird situation and leave without breakfast to go to my Natasha’s room. I still feel uncomfortable calling it my room since it was Natsha’s place to live for so many years. I didn’t completely lie to Bucky and Wanda since it’s a new day and time to pick up new flowers for my sisters grave. I change into comfy short, cotton pants and an old, blue pullover from Natashas wardrobe before I leave the compound.

I take a cab to the same flower shop I visit everyday. Where even the owner knows me by name already. Today marks exactly thirty days since Natasha died. A whole month without my older sister by my side. I ordered a special type of flower for this occasion. A bouqet of beautiful Royal Azaleas - the most precious flowers of our native country Russia. As beautiful as Natasha and I like how it brings a bit of our home to her - making her little paradise even more exotic. At the graveyard I am so consumed in my own thoughts to where I’m going to place the Royal Azaleas on the ground in front of the wooden cross, that I don’t notice right away the broad figure a few feet away from me. He’s standing upset in his posture and bent a little forward above a grave. It’s the back of his head - his freshly done hair and the colour of his shirt that gives him away and I realise that it’s Bucky. I decide against it to walk up to him since he’s mourning in his own world as well and obviously needs his space. My eyes tear away from the picture of the broken man in front of me and I finally walk straight up to Natashas grave. I crouch slightly to put my bag on the ground. I brought a little shovel to set the new flowers into the earth directly in front of the cross - making the Azaleas stand out from the rest. It is when I walk over to the well a few feet away from me to pick up the watering can, that Bucky notices he’s not alone. The can is filled to the brink and quite heavy in my hand as I carry it to Natashas grave, losing waterdrops on my way there. I silently water the flowers - careful not to drown them in the lack of strength I have in my hand that is holding the water can. The whole time I can feel his stare on me and I can almost feel his inner battle if he should come up to me or not. A few moments later he starts nervously walking up to me while I clean the little shovel to stow it away in my bag. “Do you still the need the watering can?” He asks hoarsely as he comes to a halt beside my bend over figure - blocking the sun out of my view which throws a few rays on the water droplets. Making them sparkle inbetween the flowers of Natashas floral paradise. “No.” I smile softly at him and stand up again. He returns my friendly grin and takes the water can but doesn’t leave straight away. He hesitates a second unsure of if he should leave me alone again, but somehow I long for company - not wanting to speak with the wind again and hallucinate about Natashas voice. “I lost everyone. Natasha was the only one left of my family. Although Clint supports the weight of my grief to make me feel like I’m not alone I still feel like it. I always felt like I’m alone in this world and deep down I don’t feel like I belong to the Avengers either. It was Natashas community. Not mine.” My eyes start to sting with upcoming tears while I open up to Bucky. I don’t really know why I do this. I guess I never felt so out of place and so lonely like I did in the past days and it scares me. Bucky clears his throat, his glance burning holes into my soul as he watches every slightest movement of my facial expressions. “I went through losing the people I love so many times that I lost count of it.” He blinks the tears away which threatens to fall from his eyes. “After Steve left to live the life with Peggy he always dramed to have, I officially got left alone. Steve was so much more than my friend. He was my brother.” He sniffs. “And now I’m searching for a sign - just something that keeps me in this life.” I let my tears run freely as I identify his words as my own feelings. And I realise that we are two souls hurting from the same experiences building a connection to one another through the desperation of having lost any strength to keep living. “Without wanting to get too close to you, I think you just as broken inside as me.” He speaks up. His eyes are swollen and red, still glossy from fresh tears which haven’t stopped being reproduced and leaking out of the corner of his eyes. I strangely feel comfort in the detail that his blue pullover matches mine. My heart starts to pick up a pace as I cross a vulnerable line between us and say: “I think you can never be too close to someone. I’m sure closeness is what we both need the most now.” I gift him a teary smile which he returns with a faint tint of red across his cheeks. Our encounter feels like a big step for the both of us - coming out of our shells we’ve been hiding in like anxious snails and I could feel it in the beating behind my ripcage that it was towards the right direction.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fic #y/n #bucky x original female character #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine #marvel #avengers #endgame #clint barton #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #black widow

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nincompoopydoo · 3 years

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PINING, BAGELS, REPEAT.

— WHEN THE DRINKING'S DONE ; PART 6 / ?

( gif from this gifset by @jascontodd )

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

SUMMARY: Sunday night dinner with your mother doesn’t go as planned when Bruce shows up unexpectedly at your door and you both know how your mother really loves him alot.

A/N: Slow and kinda long-winded chapter again haha. I used to be the kind of person who couldn’t write long stuff. Now look at me. Who is she??? Enjoy this one yall. Probably one or two more chapters to go, depends on how much I can write <3

WARNINGS: Swearing, alcohol. I write about what I feel and they are very real. So if you find these things triggering, please do not read this.

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

Sunday night. You’re in an apron, flushed from the heat of the stove. You’ve just poured a glass of wine for your mother, but she doesn’t drink it—too busy walking around your apartment, clearing your stuff as she criticizes your lack of cleanliness and organization. Grading papers during exam season keeps you busy. Needless to say, you don’t have the time to clean your goddamn house.

You still love her anyway.

You’re at the sink, purple-stained fingers from peeling the tunic of the red onions are under running water when there is a knock on your door. It’s deafening, rapid, and agitating. You’ve just spilled boiling water onto your hand and you really don’t need another problem to come charging at your front door. Literally.

Moving out of the kitchen with haste, you call out over your shoulder to your mother to quit rearranging with bits and bobs of stationary and papers because yes, it’s messy but you know exactly where everything is. The knocking doesn’t cease, and your annoyance aggravates further. You’re gonna have to punch someone or something if it doesn’t stop.

You aggressively pushed the barrel of the bolt lock, swinging the door open as the strands of your wild hair flew backward in the sudden blow of air.

All forms of anger and agitation disappear as soon as your gaze meets the flushed face of none other than Bruce fucking Wayne, dressed in a grey dress vest, tie hanging loosely a pristine white shirt, and an ebony tweed overcoat. This feels like deja vu. Your expression goes through a series of mixed emotions, mostly confusion, when it morphed into a guise of embarrassment, cheeks even redder. “Don’t tell me I texted you by accident again?” He blinks, seemingly as bewildered as you are. “What? No, no. No. I—” His sentence is cut short when he takes a moment to catch his breath. Your brows are frowning even deeper than before. “Did you run here or something? And what are you doing here anyway?”

Bruce shifts in his stance, a palm against the door frame, shaking his head. He feels small under your interrogative stare. “No, I came here to see you…” he trails off, eyes shamelessly skirting across your figure. He just now notices that it may be a bad time for him to turn up, and you’re hit with the realization you’re in a ratty apron, very red and very sweaty. You’re right. It is deja vu because why are you always a mess when Bruce shows up at your front door unannounced? You abruptly pull the apron over your head, hurling it behind the door, hands palming the frizz of your hair into a somewhat presentable look.

“Look, I need to talk you—”

“Honey! Who’s at the door?” He’s being cut off mid-sentence again. This time, by your mother’s voice from the living room. Your eyes are wide again—so are his.

Your mother’s fondness for Bruce is an understatement. Obsession is a better word. She had only met him once, and that was six years ago but the conceptualization of being somewhat related to an exceptionally handsome and successful man had gotten to her head all those years ago. Hell, she loves him more than she loves you. Your mother—A woman who wishes to call your best friend ‘son’ with a whole lot of love to give. If she discovers Bruce is here, at your doorstep, she will never let go. Never. And you both know it. There’s a silent understanding that travels between the two of you and the look you’re giving him tells only one thing—Run before it’s too late.

“Bruce Wayne as I live and breathe...”

Well, too late.

A small-statured lady stands on the farther side of the hallway, face lit up with sheer joy and excitement as if she had just won a lottery. She approaches him with arms open wide and soon, her hands are laid on his cheeks, examining the man’s face carefully. Bruce just stands there, stiff as a rock, unsure of how to regain his composure from all the adrenaline of wanting to see you now that he was in such close proximity to the woman who raised you. When it’s you, he tends to struggle with timing and it’s partly the reason he has never managed to act on his feelings for you. For the longest time, he has wanted to be more than friends or whatever the hell this was. He had been hesitant but now, he’s very sure.

Sometimes it feels like it's the right person but the wrong time. He doesn’t want it to be that way. He wants to make things right with you.

And there he was, being squished under the grasp of the lady that loves him very much.

He catches your gaze; you flash him a sympathetic smile as you mouth the word “sorry.” Bruce arches his brows, indicating he has no idea what to do or how to get out of this situation.

“You’ve grown so much since the last time I saw you!” the older woman exclaims, a hand now firmly on his shoulder, the other brushing away his long strands of hair from his face with affection. Bruce would never admit it; he likes the attention your mother gives to him—the touch of a mother. Something he longs for.

“Why don’t you come in and join us for dinner? There's more than enough food.”

Crap, you should have known that question was bound to be mentioned. You’re not convinced that you will be able to suppress your emotional heartburn and the idea of Bruce tasting the dishes you’re cooking, it’s making your palms sweat. But what the hell. You shouldn’t be this nervous around him, you’ve known each other for years. He has seen you at your worst and vice versa.

Still, you’ll like to avoid the predicament of a dinner table set for you, your mother, and the man you secretly love. You’re quick with an answer. “Oh, I’m sure he has other important things to do. Bruce is very busy—”

“I’ll be happy to. I have no plans for tonight after all.”

You stare at Bruce, eyes glimmering with shock and betrayal—he is supposed to be on your side. He simply sends you a swift wink, and you feel the growing and most likely apparent deep red of your already flushed cheeks. You glance away to face your mother, eye crinkling in hopes of concealing the effect he has on you. Well, at least your mother looks fucking overjoyed. Maybe the night won’t end in disappointment.

The scent of chicken and spice whiffs through the air from the dishes of chicken and chorizo paella you’ve managed to whip up in a quick thirty minutes—a recipe you came by in an article titled “Fancy dishes for lazy cooks.” Well, it’s certainly working; everyone looks pleasantly surprised when you emerge from the kitchen with a cast-iron skillet within your kitchen gloved-grasp.

Happiness is the sound of the clinking of cutlery against nearly empty smeared plates, the splash of wine cascading from the bottle you held into the glasses of your guests, and the occasional laughter that erupts from your mother as Bruce tries to make a joke through mouthfuls of paella. A symphony of contentment and comfort, composed and orchestrated by the two most significant individuals in your life. Beauty is made anywhere beautiful people are; in this space, cramped up at the beech wooden table made for one by the casement window that overlooks the apartment across yours.

This side of Bruce—where boyish smiles were manifested and hearty laughs arising from the belly—is the side you miss the most. Years ago, things felt simpler though your past self would deny that notion as human life continues to become more intricate as we grow older and our eyes see more. Innocence to maturity. Happiness to grief. But, the complexity of this warfare between the brain and the heart seems to reside in perpetual darkness, no light at the end of the tunnel. For a long time, you thought deciding to be alone could eventually bring peace to the madness but maybe, you’ve been with the wrong people this whole time. It’s your reflection against the window pane that shows the evident crinkle in your eyes and the constant upward in the curve of your lips even though it contrasts the gloomy hues of blue from the sky at twilight—you’re happy.

It’s the way your mother leans over and wipes off the bits of rice from the corner of your mouth and the exchange of awkward smiles when Bruce accidentally brushes his hand against yours when reaching for the fork. This is what you want. And maybe, just maybe, you deserve to not be alone.

“So, have you decided on who you’re taking to the wedding?”

Your mother’s voice hauls you back from your daydream. She gives you a knowing look, discretely glancing towards Bruce on the other end of the table. She knows you don’t have a date, and you know she wants you to bring Bruce. You feel your anxiety creep back in.

This is weirdly the second time you’re in this situation.

“I don’t know yet...” In times like this, you wonder if your mother wields some sort of magical ability of truth or something because no matter how much you try, you can never lie to her. And now, you wish the ground would collapse and swallow you up. You know she means well, but oh my God, Bruce is staring at you and you don’t know what to do with your hands anymore.

“Wedding?” Bruce chirps with a questioning brow as he glances between you and your mother. Now, you’re forced to explain for the sake of context. “My cousin’s getting married next week and mom here wants me to bring a date.” Your mother’s expression indicates that you’re lying through your teeth. Yet in reality, it’s not technically a lie if you’re leaving parts of reason out of the explanation because it’s true she wants you to bring a date but you don’t mention how you don’t want to go alone because weddings make you sad.

It sounds pathetic.

Bruce just nods, taking a sip of his wine. The fact he’s not saying anything is making you anxious. You thought you didn’t want him to be your date but now, maybe you do. These feelings are messing up your brain. It’s just mush now, and there’s no cure.

These are the times you want to say “Fuck you, Bruce” but in the nicest way possible.

“Why don’t you bring Bruce?”

She was direct as they come but is mostly tired of your lack of initiative and doubt. I mean, it’s not like you’re asking him to marry you, right? And honestly, you’re kind of relieved you didn’t have to be one to do it but you can’t keep depending on her to do all the heavy lifting for you. You’re not a teenager anymore. You’re a goddamn grown adult.

Nevertheless, you peer at his reaction to this from the corner of your eye, fully expecting some sort of a resting jaded expression or eyes wide in horror but he’s just looking at you...with that look—highly bewildered and almost seems to be entertained by your embarrassment. Despite the purse of his lips, you manage to catch sight of the slight impish tuck of his lips.

He thinks it's the wine, but he isn’t exactly sure.

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

“Are you sure about this?” you cross your arms, as you watch Bruce shrug on his coat from the rack. The two of you are squeezed in the entryway of your apartment, huddling in hushed conversation. “About what?” he asks absentmindedly when in reality, he knows exactly what you’re referring to. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, it’s an excuse to be around you longer. You purse your lips, shifting in your stance, eyes flickering away from his gaze. “About coming to the wedding,” you say it slowly, carefully, like you’re afraid to and you’re not sure why. He nods with the furrow of his brows, tugging his hands into the pockets of his ebony tweed coat. “I’m sure...Unless you don’t want me to come—”

“No, no. God, of course, I want you to come,” you stop, realizing how your sudden outburst of excitement must have made you seem desperate. You clear your throat, feet shifting once more. “I don’t want to pull you off work just because I don’t want to be alone.”

He raises his brows, nearing a little closer to you. “So that’s the real reason?” A hint of a smile—it’s a teasing one. You simply throw a fist to his arm yet unable to stifle your growing smile. “Don’t be a jerk.”

Bruce winces followed by a laugh that comes out more light a puff of air as he bares his palms in a gesture of surrender. “Hey, I didn’t say anything.”

Maybe, it’s the walls of this hallway, covered with hung framed photographs of family, childhood, and friends because it’s starting to feel warm. You think it’s the way his eyes light up when you laugh, radiating a sort of comforting warmth on this cold night. It feels like home. Bruce feels like home. You notice the prominent stain of your mother’s lipstick on his left cheek. You bring one hand to rest on the curve of his cheekbone, thumb trying to efface the smeared stain away.

You’re not sure if it's the smell of his deodorant or the sudden sense of his breath on your skin that made you comprehend the closing gap between your face and his. In an instant, your hand jerks away and returns to your side, clenching to a fist. Bruce clears his throat, bringing a hand up to scratch the growing stubble at his jaw. The touch of your fingers lingers like a burn.

Recognizing the tension in the air, you decide to avert your thoughts back to the conversation you were having in the first place. “You know, you don’t have to come. Really. You’ve done a lot for me, and you know that.”

“Yes...but I’ll always have your back no matter what.”

He smiles at you. The kind that reaches his eyes. He looks younger like this.

“And I’ll always have yours, Bruce.”

You’re an idiot. He’s an idiot. You’re just two idiots, standing in the hallway with hearts that feel like they’re about to explode. Despite the lingering tension in the air that’s still present, you bring him into an embrace. It feels natural, your arms around his shoulder and his on the small of your back. “Thanks for everything. Especially for making my mom really happy.” you punctuate your sentence with a gentle caress to the back where his shoulders meet. You hear the muffled sound of his laugh, feeling the rumble of his chest against yours as you try not to squirm at the brush of his unshaven chin against the curve of your neck. “No problem,” he mumbles before pulling away.

“And you need a shave.” You’re pointing to his chin and he finds himself scratching it again. He merely hums in response.

Swinging the door open while you wave him goodbye feels like a part of you is leaving. You’re not sure why you’re feeling this newly found emptiness in you when you know you’ll see him next week. You decide to blame the wine. It’s easier that way.

He’s walking away, already out of view when you decide you should really say something at least.

“Bruce,” you suddenly call out; he turns on his heels and backtracks a little too eager to face you at the doorway. “What was it you wanted to talk about?” He frowns in response, head tilting in a questioning manner. “When you came here, you said you needed to talk.”

He recalls the real reason he was here in the first place. Rushing to your door like you’re about to disappear any minute. Yet, you’re here, still at the doorway, three hours later. Fuck, he was about to confess.

Bad timing. Again.

Right person, wrong time.

No. He’ll make it right. Just, not now.

“I was...going to thank you for the bagels; Asiago. Nice choice.” Is what he says instead of reciting the words that had been running through his head in rehearsal since the drive to your apartment. He ignores the way your shoulders sag, perhaps in relief—he doesn’t want to know. He ignores the burning in his chest when you nod, the corners of your mouth tugging into a faint smile as you raise a palm in a somewhat solemn wave of farewell. He ignores the sting in his eyes when the door closes on him, symbolizing finality when he really doesn’t want it to end. Left alone in the dismal light of the hallway; it acts as a poignant reminder of his bereavement and how much of his consolation depends on your presence.

When the drinking's done, does it make it any easier for him to open himself up to you?

Bruce allows himself to cry once he pulls the car door to a close because he feels overwhelmed by the conflicting thoughts that continue to reside in his mind. The regrets, the what-ifs, and the should-haves. He forgets himself sometimes because he gets so lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t recognize himself anymore.

You keep him grounded. You remind him who Bruce Wayne truly is.

He catches a glimpse of his reflection in the rearview mirror.

You’re right. He does need a shave.

TAGLIST:

@raineeace

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #batman #batman x reader #bruce wayne imagine #batman imagine #bruce wayne x you #batman x you #justice league

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anfie-in-the-box · 4 years

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X-tra Dark Cream Teaser

Notes

I’m still very much not participating in Dark Cream Week, yet somehow this thing is done right in time, so I’m posting it with respective tags.

The story of X-tra Dark Cream is going to be pretty big and serious. Like, plot-wise, lore-wise, so-many-other-aspects-wise, you have no idea what you’ve got coming. And I just really hope you all will enjoy the ride.

What you need to know now is that I’m kind of getting back to my very own idea that you can find right here. Though it’s a different timeline, not Genocide Route. What they share is a concept of both Dream and Cross being villains, at first sight their atmosphere and aesthetic are kind of similar, but that’s it. What exactly is happening here will be explained in the story, and let me tell you, Dream and Cross have a long way ahead of them before they reach the point described in this little teaser.

So I’ve got a question for you. Answer honestly.

Would you like your Cream extra dark?

。。。

Just a Bad Dream

Once the portal is safely closed and there’s no more negativity pouring right into Dream’s cursed soul, he hurries to Cross’ side, hugging him tightly. Dismissing his huge knife, Cross hugs Dream back with a weary yet content sigh. “My greatest hero, once again taking down the whole world in my name,” Dream murmurs, ever so appreciatively and very, very gently. Cross caresses his spine through the clothes and the gloop, and, although he never really bothers to use words after a foray to one AU or another, the tremble of his hands is telling Dream enough. So, as much as the fallen guardian wishes to hold Cross like this forever, he lets go.

“I believe you are due for a good rest now.”

Dream cannot help a smile when Cross doesn’t argue, merely lingering to give his spine one last stroke. One could say they are finally figuring out their routine, grasping the ways to make their complicated lives easier, if only a little bit. For Cross it’s definitely lots of sleep and lazing around after all the work he’s done; no matter how much he doesn’t like it, and despite all the bad dreams that he’s most likely to have with all the LV, both old and new, still raging in his soul.

Dream, on the other hand, won’t be sleeping any time soon. It would do him no good at all — this lesson he learned the hard way. There isn’t much to be done when Dream’s whole being is brimming over with shattered positivity of the whole AU, — agonising grief and fear from those who survived; absolute despair from the last moments of those who died; guilt of those who were supposed to protect their people, parents and rulers all the same; at last, contempt and helplessness of every single soul. Oh, the two of them truly are beneath contempt, aren’t they? Breaking entire worlds, taking away a mere possibility of them functioning like they are supposed to. Monsters who only seek to twist and corrupt.

That’s what they say, Dream knows it all too well, both from careful whispers that no one else was supposed to hear and from straightforward, provocative screams right in his face. It’s good, exactly how he wants it to be, but right now he couldn’t care less. Dirt on Cross’ clothes matters more than this.

Actually, that’s what Dream’s going to busy himself with. Cross’ new uniform is piled up beside their bed, soaked in humans’ blood and covered in monsters’ dust. There’s no doubt washing these will be a real pain in the neck, but that’s exactly what Dream needs right now. Something basic yet not too simple. Easy enough for Dream to be able to pay more attention to Cross, whose even breathing and serene expression bring peace to the fallen guardian’s rotting soul, too. This way his hands are occupied, all of the energy he’s gathered is guided in the non-destructive direction until it settles, and his troubled mind is resting even without sleep. It’s a nice bonus to be able to look after Cross, ready to help him break free from yet another nightmare, for the dreadful, horrific visions are always haunting him in reality as well… At least in the first moments after waking up, although sometimes it takes Cross much longer to snap out of it, even with the aid of Dream. Hopefully, this time won’t be so… troublesome.

It’s so obvious that Dream isn’t in the slightest used to doing the laundry — any laundry at all, let alone something as tricky as washing all this blood and dust out, — it’s almost funny. Although, to be fair, it really isn’t supposed to actually be useful — a mere distraction, nothing more, nothing less.

Cross will overwrite his clothes anyway. And, if that fails (though lately the number of failures has lessened significantly; the thought makes Dream’s chest tighten with warmth and pride in his most loyal ally and dearest fiance), they’ll just trade new armor in some AU for the delusive sense of safety. Material needs don’t concern them anymore.

Dream’s progress on washing the uniform is still close to none when he feels a sudden powerful wave of severe distress, and merely a moment later the air gets heavy with magic. Bones and blasters are everywhere, there are so many of them there’s no speck of whiteness left, everything bright red and purple instead. It’s not the first time — neither it is the last one, Dream’s under no illusion about that part, — yet it’s no less mesmerising. If only it weren’t so dangerous for both of them.

Dodging all the attacks, getting closer to Cross is the easy part, that Dream’s doing effortlessly, without sparing it much thought; it’s not like Cross is able to properly hurt Dream, neither in his sleep nor while being fully conscious. Especially not like that. Cross wouldn’t gather enough harmful intent, and considering Dream’s nature is far from ordinary…

It’s even easier to throw Cross out of their bed, his body light, though trembling violently. He jolts awake the moment Dream’s hand touches his chest to grab the fabric of his shirt, but his mind is still very far away. Out of reach. It’s only the lack of resistance that shows Cross has recognised him, if only a little, on some kind of subconscious level. Nothing other than that — just pure black hate pouring down his cheeks and LV raging on within his soul. No way Dream will stand such a state of affairs any longer. Cross is his and his only, he doesn’t belong to whatever hell he’s seeing. And so the fallen guardian growls, as if his own life depended on it, “Wake up!”

Please, please let this one end quickly. Dream hates hurting Cross more than needed.

“Wake up!”

Of course that doesn’t work, it rarely does, but Dream has to try anyway. Besides, it’s usually when the struggling begins. Not this time though; good. Dream feels every single bone directed at his back, oh so clearly hears the Gaster blasters charging. Nothing ever comes. Nothing ever would; not when he’s close enough for Cross to feel the familiar warmth and weight of his body, that Dream knows for sure.

Holding Cross’ hands tight, chanting “Wake up, wake up, wake up”, as if it were a spell (or a plea, or a prayer), Dream reaches out to Cross’ chest with one of his tentacles, pressing firmly right in the middle of the ribcage, forcing his soul to appear. Cross sharply inhales, obviously in pain, and even tries to arch his back, — only Dream doesn’t allow it, keeping him in place. That’s when his tentacles come in handy…

Other than that, nothing much happens. “Thank stars,” Dream thinks, taking a deep breath. From now on, he needs to be extremely careful. Souls are not to be toyed with. Or, well, the souls of those he loves are not to be toyed with. All the others are perfect but hollow dolls to be filled with oh so very hurtful fragments of their shattered dreams.

That’s what Dream and Cross do. That’s what they’ll continue doing, and no haunting visions would ever take Cross away. They’re together in this.

With his gloved hand Dream cautiously touches the soul, pulsing with LV and shining red and purple, no trace of it ever being one of a monster. Cross’ eye sockets and mouth open wide… It’s almost like he’s screaming without a sound, or maybe the sound merely goes just as far away as his mind is.

Dream’s never asked. He’s not going to ask this time, either.

The charged blasters fire all at once, and the bones are falling behind his back, yet none of the attacks ever land as Dream bawls, “I am Dream, and you are the one who swore an oath of loyalty and love, the one who saw through me, and accepted me, and stayed by my side! You are Cross, and whatever hell you’re seeing, you do not belong to it!” Cross’ mismatched eye-lights get a bit less blurry for a second, and that’s Dream’s cue to finally act with all he’s got.

And so he lets Cross go, leaving utterly motionless body lying on the floor, only for all of Dream’s tentacles to hit the soul at same time before it disappeared once again.

This time Cross actually screams; there is unparalleled agony in his voice, unexpectedly hoarse, as if he’s been screaming like that for hours. It hurts so much to hear it.

Dream is certain it’s better than whatever Cross has just broken free from. As Cross himself once said, “At least in reality I’m in this mess with you.” Very vividly Dream remembers his own response — a warm smile and quiet, confident “Likewise.”

That was then. Now Cross is looking at Dream with lost, pained, vulnerable expression, and his eye-lights, though faded to white, are still blurry — only this time from exhaustion, not because he’s seeing something too much different from reality. That Dream knows how to deal with. He doesn’t help Cross get on his feet, picking him up instead, holding him with hands and tentacles the same.

It’s nice to feel Cross’ weight, and his soul beating more and more steadily. Soothing, really. And that is why Cross only squeaks a little, otherwise showing no signs of discomfort or desire to argue about his position. Not like an argument would lead him anywhere, even if he had enough energy to start one.

They don’t talk until both of them are back in the bed, so close to each other it’s still very easy to hear their souls beating, their breaths warming what little space is beetween them. Dream squeezes Cross’ hand and offers a smile. It’s a tender one, if only a bit teasing.

“Hush now, Cross. It was just a bad dream.”

No words can ever describe his immense relief when Cross smiles back. And all too clearly Dream sees the moment some kind of mischief sparks in his love’s eyes.

“Oh? Well, then I definitely woke up,” Cross says, almost nonchalantly, though there’s no way that would fool Dream, who knows exactly how much he weighs every word. “Because what I see now is not 'just a bad' dream but the worst Dream ever.” At that the warmth in Dream’s chest is blooming like a flower, bursting like thousands of fireworks. Then Cross adds, so gently, as if the two of them might break — and take the whole world with them. “You are my worst.”

And places a kiss on his forehead. Like a final blow.

That weird, silly fool. That wonderful idiot. Dream loves him so, so much.

It takes the fallen guardian a moment to find his words again, and to be sure his voice won’t be trembling as soon as he starts talking. For a moment Dream simply stares at Cross, who just looks back, so calm, so sure, so present.

“Good one,” Dream finally says. “Though if you're feeling fine enough to make flirty puns, we should go back to sleep.” It’s a perfect moment to return the kiss, only on the cheek. Cross seems content anyway.

“Yeah, let’s do that.” He chuckles. “Won't summon any more bones. Or blasters. Promise.”

。。。

Credits:

Undertale © Toby Fox

Dream © jokublog

Cross © jakei95 / xtaleunderverse

Shattered!Dream © shattereddreamsau

Dark Cream © zu-is-here

X-tra Dark Cream © me (anfie / anfie-in-the-box)

Link to the Russian version will be here!

。。。

Notes

I'm too sleepy to write down the references, but there are quite a few! I'll update them later.

But god and stars, do I love Cross' wordplay in the end. That's the first thing I got to know about this story. Then it became "Two villains who have the whole Multiverse terrified being idiots in love". Then I blinked, and suddenly it's huge and super serious. That was fun. It still is.

#dark cream week #dark cream #x-tra dark cream #shattered!dream #cross!sans #undertale #utmv #anfie writes #x-tra dark cream fic #A glimpse into this ship's life #So much more is coming!#I love these two too much for my own good #Hope I'll be able to tell their story #It will be quite a journey #and for once I'm more excited than nervous #Not sure if it lasts though #But I'm determined anyway!

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kittybellestark · 4 years

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Hi ! I don't know if this is where you send requests, but maybe a fic where peter gets all jealous of Morgan and Harley, and its fathers day, but he feels like he shouldn't be there and stays in the room the Stark's have for him- (Tony lives) OH! and maybe Mays dead idk whatever ya want thank you ! <3 Oh! and can I be on the taglist?

hi milove sorry for taking literal months to do your request i recognize you requesting this on nov 18th and it is now February so i hope this is smth that was worth the wait !!

So I played with the timelines a lil bit bc i suck and i also just kinda took this to a place i don’t think you were asking me to do whoops, it’s not just some cute sibling jealously

also not very irondad based, like sprinkle amounts. also no comfort. my bad

Post-endgame, Tony lives, Harley & Peter are the same age, Peter got snapped Harley didn’t

TW: Grief, implication of suicide(minor character), suicidal thoughts,

There wasn’t many things Peter liked. He remembers liking a lot of things, life, school, home, himself. But that was years ago, and yet it was only a few months for Peter. The world was different now, older.

Those who survived held grief in their eyes, they moved slow and while they have grown since the loss of their world, they also had survived the return. They mourned and grew older, making new family and friends. But some who survived couldn’t hold the weight of their loss, and in the 5 years their family was gone, they went to be with them.

The returned came back, and lived in denial. Their eyes were empty, and every movement was carefully thought through. They were left behind, monuments in their place. Those who returned saw how the survived struggled to cope, and in turn they struggled as well. There was no place for them anymore. Especially when they didn’t have a family to go to.

Like Peter.

Peter returned to the world five years later to find May was gone. She was one of those who survived the initial snap, only to not be able to carry the grief. He hated that he came back to life and had no home, no family. Peter was alone.

Tony was nice enough to offer Peter a place to live with his own family. But they couldn’t relate to him, they didn’t know what it felt like to be left behind like this, to be dropped in the future and expected to be okay. Tony had a family now. A child born in an empty world, and another kid, Harley. He was barely a teenager before the snap and now he was 17, just as old as Peter.

He couldn’t help but hate living with them. Harley’s family had returned, but he wasn’t going home. Morgan was a child who was scared by Peter. Tony and Pepper sometimes forgot Peter was there, after spending so long without him they would act as if they’ve seen a ghost when Peter rounds the corner and into whatever room they’re occupying.

Peter missed May. He wished that he could still be in Queens, living in their apartment. Peter missed Ben and he missed the idea of his parents. He should have never returned. There’s no room for him in this world.

He hated how Harley took advantage of their situation. He hated that Harley had a family, a mother and a sister who returned and are alone and he didn’t go back to them. His family returned to him and yet he’s here with Tony. And he hated how Morgan took her family- her full, completed family for granted.

If Peter’s family came back to life there wouldn’t be anything stopping him from being with them. He would cherish every single nano-second if they were alive again.

And yet they all expected Peter to be okay. Adapted. Used to the future like he didn’t just blink and find himself lost and alone. He brings up that he misses May and someone frowns and tells him how long ago she died. How was that supposed to help him? No one even brought him to the cemetery. How is Peter meant to move on from a life that was stolen from him?

It’s not like any of them were okay. Tony and Pepper and Harley all crumbled as whenever there was a reminder of everything that they lost. Peter, unfortunately happened to be one of those reminders.

Tony and Pepper tried their best. They involved Peter in family bonding time and they tried their best not to flinch when Peter is unexpectedly there. Because they survived, they didn’t understand and talking to them led to dead ends.

He tried communicating with them. Cried over May’s death, had been confused about these new things that are actually years old. For them it was so long ago, a literal lifetime ago, so they never really saw the point in talking about these things. It wasn’t that they thought Peter would figure this out, they just assumed he already knew.

Talking to Harley didn’t really work that well either. He didn’t want to talk about the things Peter missed out on and when asked about his family he would shrug and say that he’s moved on.

And, well, Morgan was a kid. She was born in an empty world, told stories of people that she never should have met and now faced with the world doubling and not understanding any of it. Peter Parker was just a character is bedtime stories and now he’s a ghost who wants her home. She used to cry whenever Peter is around and still tries to hide behind people’s legs.

God, he hated being this kid. Never wanted to be the one who envied others. Before- when it was still just May and Peter, he didn’t feel this gnawing inside him, while they didn’t have much Peter still had someone who fit all the rolls he needed. He hated being jealous, he didn’t feel this when he used to look at anyone who had two living parents.

He shouldn’t be here. Not in this room, which came decorated with everything Peter had loved before he died- and not alive. He didn’t fit. Not into this family who struggles with the idea he’s alive and not on this planet where the world is still mourning the people who came back.

“Are you coming downstairs?” Harley asked.

Peter can’t be here. He had no right.

“I have a taxi coming to get me.”

That wasn’t a lie. Something he scheduled last night at some point, between the tears and holding his breath. Peter didn’t think anyone would be awake at this time, Sunday’s were always the day that everyone slept in and Peter could just be alone outside of his room. Sometimes he would just sit in the living room and other times he’d wander around the property, often ending up by the lake. By the time everyone would start waking up Peter would be back in his room with some breakfast and try not to bother anyone.

“Okay, well it’s fathers day, so I think they might be expecting your presence in some form. We have plans and all that.”

Of course they do. They always make plans where Peter only finds out the day before or day of. Maybe Peter has plans. They could consider that. Okay, maybe Peter never really has any plans, nothing more than trying to understand this new world. And maybe he didn’t make the active effort to find where he fit in this home, but he is the child and it shouldn’t really be up to him. Harley probably didn’t have to engage with the adults first. Tony and Pepper more than likely got input from Harley on their plans.

With a sigh Peter nodded. “I’ll cancel the taxi.”

“Cool! I’ll tell everyone you’ll be down soon.”

Harley made sure to give a big smile, before heading downstairs, a bounce in each step he took. Peter really hated Harley for his happiness.

Taking a moment after canceling the taxi, Peter tried to pull himself together. He forced a smile and pulled his shoulders back. All that needs to be done is sit and nod, occasionally laugh. Pay no mind to the way Morgan looks at him in fear, and don’t see the look of mourning on Tony and Pepper’s face. He needs to not remember Harley’s family alone in Tennessee.

He went down the stairs and followed the noise to the kitchen. There was laughter and the sounds of dishes clinking against one another. It smelt of pancakes and cinnamon and hash browns and coffee. Standing here Peter could close his eyes and pretend this was seven years in the past, with him and May and Ben. He could imagine Ben making the food and singing along to the radio with May dancing along as she sets the table. But this wasn’t 2016, this was 2023. Instead it was a finished family forced to bring him in, a harsh reminder that he doesn’t belong.

Peter stepped into the kitchen, Pepper was just finishing up breakfast and Harley was setting the table. Morgan was sitting on Tony’s lap whispering into her fathers ear. Food was laid out ready to be served, with orange juice, iced tea and coffee all in their own pitchers waiting to be poured. He moved through the room, trying to not to intrude before sitting down at the table. It didn’t take much longer for Pepper and Harley to sit down as well, Tony moving Morgan into her proper chair.

Everyone around Peter fell into easy conversation while he stayed silent, trying to focus on his food instead of the way Morgan was starring daggers at him. They talked about their favourite family vacations and laughed at their own jokes. Peter couldn’t help but feel like he was actually sitting out on the porch. This family had five years together, five years of memories and laughter, of love and pain, and Peter wasn’t apart of any of it. He wasn’t a part of any family, his own buried and far too dead.

“Peter, what about you? Did you have any Father’s Day traditions?”

Hearing Harley address Peter pulled him back to this world, and welcomed in his deep rooted desire to have his family back. Harley had two families now and he left one completely. Abandoned them when they came back to life. And Morgan was sitting here glaring at Peter completely oblivious to the fact that she has her entire family and how privileged she was for it.

“Well I don’t have any memories of my parents, so I don’t think there were any traditions with them. The only people I could ask about that are now dead. Unless you consider going to the cemetery to go visit your dead father you can’t remember a father’s day tradition, then no.”

The entire table stopped eating, all sounds coming to a complete end. Everyone stayed still as if Peter was some volatile bomb that would explode if anyone nearby breathed too hard. He could feel his jaw clench, as he tried to breathe in and out. It wasn’t working.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Should I not bring up my very dead family? Was that inappropriate to say that my father is dead I have no memories? My absolute bad! Next time I’ll consider how uncomfortable it makes everyone here. I mean jeez, Harley has a whole family in Tennessee he hasn’t seen since they reappeared. You’ve got two whole families to choose from, Harls! What an accomplishment. And Morgan, well she’s older than I was when my parents died, so she’s definitely on the right track. And wow, I got a whole second set of parents out of May and Ben. Which was great until I watched Ben die. Until I die and find out while my death was temporary, May’s wasn’t. Whenever I want to be with my family I have to go all the way back to Queens and visit the cemetery. But you all just live in the same house. So genuinely, I’m sorry for not considering your emotions about my dead family.”

“Peter...” Tony whispered, reaching his one hand out to Peter.

Peter shook his head, pulling away, he didn’t want to see the empty eyes starring back at him. He didn’t want to acknowledge the way Tony looks at him with regret and how Pepper looks at him like he’s lost. He didn’t want to see how the three that lived through both snaps always held pain in their eyes. And Peter most certainly didn’t want to see Morgan, who had no idea how lucky she is, that she was born never knowing loss.

Peter didn’t want to see a family who was pulled together in a time of pain. He wanted to see his family. Peter wanted to look across the table and see Ben and May throwing little balls of napkins at each other. He wanted to be Harley and be able to go home and see his family whenever he wants. He wanted to be Morgan and do science experiments with his parents. Peter wanted the one thing he didn’t have, something that Harley and Morgan had an abundance of.

“I don’t have a family anymore. I never got to say goodbye to May. I would give up the rest of my life to see them again. And you guys just can’t understand that. You have you family. You get to see them whenever you want. I can’t ever see mine again. I can never go home. They’re gone.”

After all, Peter was just a ghost, another person who returned, who had been dead for too long. He didn’t belong in a world of survivors. Peter was just another person long gone who no longer fits into the world around him.

Taglist: Ask/DM to be added

@peter-is-a-bean @jean-and-diet-coke @dead-inside-pt2 @they-were-cloudsinmycoffee @parkersjiggle @7peternotparker7 @thatonecrackheadshipper @kevinthewoman @faline4you @lynxshinon @narutoyaoifan @pastelwheeler @thecrazymarvelfan @bonjour-gays @thebestqueenoftheworld

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eppysboys · 3 years

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Sometimes I wonder whether Paul said certain things about John just because he knew that's what the audience wanted to hear? In the sense that he didn't want to break millions of hearts by confirming the rumors they did hate each other for some periods and with good reason? But when he was caught in candid moments like the Hunter Davies call, his tone was a lot more bitter than the his usual - John was the bee's knees' - routine. For years after John's death, despite his best efforts, Paul would let some oddly confrontational remarks slip, as if the man wasn't dead and unable to answer him back. Even a record like Tug of War, which came out in the aftermath of the tragedy, reflects more pent up anger than affection. It wasn't until a decade or two later that his feelings cooled and he was able to publicly express love. This is why I'm under the impression they'd never be more than casual friends again. The feelings were too intense for a cozy double date sort of friendship or a practical professional relationship.

Hi anon,

When someone dies unexpectedly, someone you had a complicated relationship akin to a marriage with, it’s going to hurt and bring up a whole range of emotions. Grief is horrible, grieving someone you have regrets with is horrible. Paul had to deal with those emotions in the public eye. He was grappling with how the media were discussing and proclaiming things about his relationship with John to sell books and papers. John’s words of anger were becoming immortalised as truth when everyone with a brain (including John) knew it was bullshit said in the spur of the moment.

Paul talks about music being like therapy, I really think Tug of War was like sitting in a psychologist’s room and just letting everything pour out, and I’m glad he could do that! Better that keeping it all inside. And no one else but him has to know the gritty details. To be honest, while I think Paul is aware that people like hearing about John, he also likes talking about John (they were best buds!) so I think in his mind it’s like ‘a win-win’ and not a calculated plot. Grief does soften and acceptance eventually comes, and it’s clear to be that’s what happened.

As for the likelihood of them becoming true best friends again... yeah, it’s a tough one. I truly don’t know what would have happened, as much as I wish I could say they would have fallen back into their partnership with ease and everything would have been perfect.

#asks #death tw

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julies-butterflies · 3 years

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I know the feeling, I think, in my own way. It's the pain you don't expect, the little reminders, the details of life that somehow change. Grief is a tricky thing, always finding a new way to surprise you.

I lost my grandparents a few years back and that scene from regenisis made me remember that conversation so vividly. That moment when it just hits, all of a sudden, how fast and real the possibility is. How soon. When you finally have to face the truth. When you have to let go. And you talked about it so well...

You put words to these indescribable feelings, these moments, in this simple, vivid way. You have that Writer's Gift. You've made me sob, you've made me laugh hysterically, you've made me rage. There's a lifetime of emotion in your words. Those glass shards turn to diamonds. It's an honor, to be allowed to read these stories you've poured your soul into.

Man, I full-on Pattersoned pep talked you. Whoops. No regrets. You're a wrecking ball of talent and I shall sing your praise forever.

Speaking of the disaster gremlin...guess who sent in the Emily and Luke prompt? Yeah that was everything I've ever wanted. Wow.

Just the way you write the two of them...Luke is so clearly his mother's son. The moment when Emily decided to be a little petty as she woke him up it just hit me how alike they are. And I snorted when she swore, and that last line!!! When she promised she'd always be there! Pain. Unbelievable pain. You just write the love in their relationship so well, and that just makes the ending even more tragic. ( I read your authors note. As if I WASN'T crying already. Thanks for reminding me of "Oh he wanted to be held. he wanted to say everything" which haunts me day and night by the way). Also, wow, Sick Luke refusing to rest is litterally me.

Oh and I sent the Juke too. God that was everything. I'm incredibly soft for the way you write them, it just makes me melt. And the chaos of your luke descriptions END ME.

Oh, please don't even worry about getting the prompts out fast! Take care of yourself fiancee. I enjoy them whenever they pop up. It gives me something to look forward to.

Speaking of WIPS, did you just say MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH? HELLO??? I'M SO INTRIGUED AND TERRIFIED AND EXCITED NOW????

Can't wait for triple threat and himbos. I'm so ready.

OH and I forgot to ask: do you have a Goblin fancast?

-Vampire Anon <3

Oh my god... you're not kidding. Grief is a special type of agony that's really impossible to describe, to fully comprehend, until you've lived it. How awful is that? It's like... we can share our pain with the world, but it will only fully resonate with someone who can draw on their own personal experiences. Of course, it doesn't have to be identical --- like, how many people have had to deal with their ghost bestie potentially fading out of existence --- but it hits something deeply personal, some emotional blister that will never fully heal, and it hurts. Hurts in... a cathartic way, I hope. Some pain doesn't simply demand to be felt, it has to be, or else it'll fester... and there's no healing, once you've gotten to that point.

I think of, like... The Body, the one Buffy episode that absolutely guts everyone when they watch it. Like, that's such a specific situation being portrayed... it's not even supernatural, like the rest of the show, just a deeply personal experience of someone dying, and the people around them processing it. But holy shit, does it hit, and continue to hit all these years later. It's raw emotion, it's... it's real in the very worst way. Confronting that grief head-on does something to you.

I want to do the same with my writing... I think? I don't want anyone to suffer because I've dredged up pain for them, but sometimes... pain can help? I don't know. I don't know.

Sorry, I'm a little scattered tonight. There's... a lot going on. Things are... rough for my family, and I've kind of got that grief brainrot right now lol.

But your Patterson pep talk is exactly what I need, V-Anon! Thank you thank you, I cried a little reading that.... ashhjsjkskskj you're just stroking my little sea polyp of an ego until it turns into a mermaid again, huh? (Not me referencing Buffy and The Little Mermaid in one reply, god help us all.)

So so glad you liked the Emily and Luke prompt! I'm currently working on a few more, so... we'll see how that comes along, hopefully soon. And I've made a taglist, for the first ever time! Also have no idea how that's going to go.

I love exploring the Patterson relationship dynamic so, so much. Emily is one of my favorite characters to write... unexpectedly, bc a large chunk of the fandom doesn't have much sympathy for her, for understandable reasons. I just... try to find the humanity of the situation, the grey areas of love and loss that make their tragedy all the more painful. I... guess it's working? Haha, who doesn't love a good foregone tragic conclusion.

And I'm not giving away anything about the Carrie fic yet! Just that I have big plans for it, whenever it actually gets finished! Not going to murder anyone without a lot of thought put into it in advance!

as for Goblin... ahshsjkjs, he's a fluffy little daschund puppy, so I kind of imagined something like this?? Only with a bit more color.

Love and potentially-tetanusey neck-bitey kisses, Vampire Anon <3 <3

#vampire anon my beloved

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scream-mans-friend · 4 years

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character ask: the whole rooftop gang thank you please

ALL OF THEM HUH? WELL THEN:

Shirakumo:

1: I like to make my favs trans, so i like to sometimes imagine him as afab, but then i laugh bc that implies that the doctor said “trans rights!” as he frankensteined his corpse, so i lean towards him being an amab demiboy! 2: a lot of people hc him as being very open about his sexuality and gender, but I think he was just a tad repressed to his bisexual tendencies hkjdflfsahlsdkj not in an angsty way but like, he didn’t really think about it until his own emotions pretty much confronted him about it 3: I think he was a happy kid for the most part! i think when he first started school he tried to be friends with everyone and didn’t really understand when other kids didnt want to be friends with him :( but he was otherwise pretty happy go lucky, he had a stable home with his mom, dad, and older sister, and he liked to run around outside and explore 4: well it would be difficult to not associate him with clouds, but I also associate him with werewolves and the fae due to what happens to him later on LMAO a little sad but also kinda neat in my humble opinion 5: I always associate him with the rooftop gang ofc!! 6: I like to project my own obliviousness onto him- hes awkward but hes so upbeat that he can’t tell. 7: I think that he likes to cook and bake! he finds it fun to try and make things for his friends, but he tends to stray from recipes and this can spell disaster- hes good at it when he wants to be!

Kayama:

1: I hc that shes on the ace/aro spectrum! her costume has rings on her middle fingers and everything... I think she struggles with romance and isn’t really sexually attracted to anyone, but is sex positive 2: i don’t think she was as close with shirakumo as the rest of the fandom likes to write her as, but I do think she struggled with her own sense of grief and guilt- when someone you know dies unexpectedly its kinda hard to not think about anything you could have done differently that could have helped 3: kayama had a decent childhood- her parents fought a lot and split up though, and during that period of time they didn’t really focus on her (this would be when she was around 8). she got plenty of love and attention after their divorce, but it still really hurt her 4: well,,,, her whip and pink mist are definitely what stand out about her, but i also associate her hair with christmas trees bc of how its drawn in canon k\gfhaslkj 5: I associate her with the depression duo and with ms joke! 6: I’m not really sure if i project anything onto her! maybe self doubt, but i project that onto any and all characters i come into contact with lmaoo 7: she likes to knit! the sweater she wears in her casual wear? she made it!

Aizawa:

1: I love trans and autistic aizawa.... hes trans and hes autistic what can I say! 2: plenty of people hc that he had abusive parents but i think they were just busy and they weren’t that close? like they would hang out but the conversations would be awkward and then theyd all go off and do their own things,,,, introvert nation in their household,,,,,, 3: as a kid aizawa was shy and withdrawn,,, but when asked about his opinions on things he didn’t pull any punches and was extremely blunt without really realizing that it could be rude. hes still extremely blunt as an adult but now he knows when its rude or not and he finds it hilarious 4: cats ofc but i also associate him with rain and the moon..... his vibes........... 5: its hard not to associate him with yamada! I also associate him with shirakumo and kayama ofc but like kayama has said in canon, he and yamada are tied at the hip! 6: I tend to live in my own head a little and i project the same onto him sfjklsadhlkajhd 7: he likes to watch “satisfying” videos online, soap cutting videos both please and enrage him bc on the one hand its a bunch of fun little cubes but on the other hand theyre wasting all of that soap,,,,,

Yamada

1: he’s nb! he doesn’t really have much of a preference as to what pronouns you use for him, but their present mic persona is their attempt at creating the ultimate genderless person... bananas dont have gender and neither does she. unless shes in the mood for it 2: a lot of people recognize how powerful his quirk can be, but i hc that at a certain point hes incapable of getting any louder, simply because he’d either tear his own throat apart or he’d match the frequency of his own body and become juice 3: I hc that he was a quiet kid! he had to get control of his quirk before he could really hold a conversation, but i hc that none of the adults in his life knew how to let him practice, and as a result he was told to stay quiet. as for home life, i dont really have a solid hc! i like the idea of him being in a loving home, or a not so loving home, or in foster care- it all depends on the story 4: i ofc associate bananas and cocaktoos with him but i also associate him with doc martens bc punk and gay. he deserves docs not those ugly fuckin rain boot looking things 5: aizawa and shirakumo! I also associate him with kayama, but hjfldhflKJ i ship him with aizawa and shirakumo so i associate them together more 6: I project a lor of anxiety onto him- sometimes its all too much and he kinda freaks out over nothing 7: hes always had a fascination with drink art and drink pouring,,, he isn’t good at it though hfdaslkhlagks

#rooftop gang #asks

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thisstableground · 4 years

Note

hey! what was your first experience with in the heights/how did you discover it & how did you become so thoroughly overtaken by it? i hope you feel better soon

ooh, i like this question!

so i got into hamilton around november 2016 and thats what lead me to it. first listened to in the heights must’ve been early january 2017, because i remember it was the day before i went back to my home in brighton from my mum’s where i had spent christmas break, and i was laying on the couch in mum’s living room and eating grapes the first time i listened. i don’t remember much of my emotions towards it that first time, other than enjoying it but finding the story harder to keep track of (it was only the second musical soundtrack i’d ever listened to, after hamilton, which is a lot easier to follow because it’s sung through). i can remember unexpectedly laughing out loud at usnavi in the club and going “wait what” when abuela died and that’s about it. but i vividly remember my second listen to it the day after. i’d gone and read all the story summary on the Genius lyrics page so i understood it more, and i can remember getting on the train back home just as i was listening to It Won’t Be Long Now on headphones and getting such shivers that I nearly cried (and then i did cry on the train later, at Alabanza), and it entered frequent rotation between my near-constant relistens of hamilton.

so i really liked it from the start but i think it didn’t completely take over my heart until i started writing fic for it. fic for me is about learning who the characters are and it really took no time at all of writing some character study and dialogue for usnavi and vanessa before they just grabbed something in my heart and made a permanent home there, now that i understood them a little more.

i love the music and the originality and the skill that is in it, but i think that something that made it really stick emotionally and become my favourite is that it was about such ordinary people. it was about people who struggle and who aren’t necessarily doing anything that will make them go down in history but aren’t any less valuable or lovable for that, and it was a revelation for me at that point in my life, where i still only defined myself by my grades and intelligence and was really struggling with the fact that i could just barely get through a day functionally, never mind do anything world-changing to establish a legacy, which at the time felt very important to me and is part of what drew me to hamilton. it’s hard to explain, but in the heights just made me feel like it’s okay for your legacy to be that you work hard in the ways you are able to and support the people around you and look for help from them when you need it. it felt like permission to live an ordinary life and reassurance that you can find happiness doing that.

it’s funny because with all of that, i would’ve thought that nina would’ve been my favourite – i’m a former gifted kid university dropout who put way too much pressure on myself with grades. and i do love her but somehow it’s usnavi who i relate to most. the getting stuck, the way that his past and his grief have given him sort of tunnel vision for what he wants from his future and how he needs to think more about what he wants now, and what he wants outside of what other people think he wants. the big ADHD vibes, the nervous chatter. and relating to him in some ways made me want to be more like him in others – the positivity and kindness, which i’m 100% sure is something that i developed more in myself the more i listened to his parts in the musical and wrote stories about him. i talk a lot more now than i used to, because i’m not so self-conscious about the fact that i talk very quickly and excitably, and that sometimes i make an idiot of myself by babbling. i like who i am much more now that i lean way more towards an usnavi than an alexander.

it also came along like, when i wasn’t exactly mental health recovered but i had been living in brighton a while and gotten past the worst parts and even with all the problems i was still having i felt like i was in the place i was supposed to be, for the first time in my life. i remember when i was younger i used to be in my own bedroom just sobbing and thinking “i wanna go home” and not knowing what i meant because i was in the only place that i could technically consider home but still didn’t feel like it, and always feeling torn between different parts of my identities and not knowing where i belonged within those identities and communities that i’m a part of. i’d never want to claim that this means i understand what it means to be latino or an immigrant because i dont and i know i never will, but even though ITH is not my identity narrative, it comforts me to hear it anyway. it felt and still does feel so, so good to listen to finale where usnavi says i’m home and think yeah, me too, and to know that he’d been looking for so long for that certainty and finally found it just like i had.

its been the fuel for so much of my creativity, alongside other LMM fandoms. i think part of it is because of an interview i read with lin once, where he said he wrote ITH because nobody was writing the roles he wanted to play so he had to do it himself. that attitude but turned towards my own areas of neurodiversity and mental health has since been the centre of most of my academic work and the foundation of what i did for most of my creative writing degree: the idea that if the story you want doesn’t exist it’s not because it’s not worth telling, it’s because maybe you need to write it yourself. i’d never had enough of a sense of purpose before to sustain any creativity.

before i started writing fic and doing art prompts back in december 2016 i hadn’t made or written anything much for years and years, and even before that i’d never really done more than write a few poems and some essays and doodled some abstract art at very sporadic intervals like once or twice a year. and i started that creative journey off with hamilton but it’s ITH that stuck with me and that i’ve stuck with (and DNH, but like, i’m into that for the opposite reasons i am into ITH, where ITH is a beautiful thing that inspires me want to make more beautiful things, and DNH is a trash fire that i’m frantically trying to put out and then weave a nice rug to cover all the damage).

GOD this gave me all my big ITH feelings again. i can remember writing fic after nightmares when my PTSD was still bad. i can remember being in the phase where i was still surprised whenever i woke up and felt good about life and i’d put ITH on with headphones and turn the corner out of the street i lived on at the top of a hill and could see all the brightly coloured houses leading down to the sea and felt safe. i have such a strong memory of a day when i had been in the middle of undergraduate dissertation panic where i just went outside and went to the park which was empty because it was pouring with rain and i went on the swings and played ITH loudly and sang along because nobody was there to hear. the people i’ve met through fandom are some of my favourite people ever. i just love this show so, so much and it has a really important place in my life and my memories.

#marveling-under-many-skies

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scriptedangel · 5 years

Text

The one where Harry found and lost Y/n early.

a/n: as usual gif is not mine ++ this was loosely inspired by a tumblr post BUT i couldn't find the tumblr post to link it down here,, i do hope people enjoy reading this post :)

warning: grief? angst?

02.06.19

The world adores Harry Styles, incredibly talented singer and songwriter, amazing model and movie actor and just a wonderful human being in general. When the news about Harry getting married to the love of his life,Y/n, the world rejoice for the two. Although, let’s be honest, some fans’ dreamed were crushed as their favourite idol is getting married. Nevertheless everyone was happy.

The fans not only adore Harry but unexpectedly they adore Y/n as well. It took quite a while before they realised that Y/n has always been very supportive of Harry and has always been very kind and sweet to his fans.

Whenever they are spotted by fans during their dates, Harry would always look at Y/n for confirmation while Y/n just nodded her head and waited for Harry patiently, she even offers a hand to take picture of her boyfriend with his fans. She’ll take countless of pictures and videos for the fans. Anywhere. Anytime.

Unfortunately, there was an incident when Harry was too focused talking to another fans when a rude fan came up and grabbed hold of Y/n’s hair. Her hair was roughly pulled before the rude fan slapped her across the face. Y/n was too stunned but she didn’t curse or even slap her back. She smiled and nodded her head while the security team rushed towards her.

The security team told the fan to leave in a very equally rude way but Y/n saw this and sighed. She put a hand on the security’s arm and whispered to him to just let it go while she was ushered back to the van.

This did not stop Y/n from being kind to Harry’s fans, really it did not. Whenever she was in his concert, she would try her best to make everyone feels welcome. When she turned back and saw one fan, her face was all red and her hair was sticking to her face as she was sweating. She realised that the fan was being uncomfortable so she quickly hurried and took a new bottle of water close to the stage and approached her.

The fan’s eyes turned wide opened being approached by her idol’s girlfriend. She coughed loudly and Y/n smiled sweetly and handed her the bottle. The fan saw this and her lips parted in shock, she shook her head slightly and smiled in return and said, “Thank you.”

Sometimes when fans noticed her in the concert, they would call out for her name. If she was lucky she could sneak through the security and quickly have a chat with them. While most of times, fans would just politely asked her to pass some notes to Harry. Y/n would nod in a friendly manner and express her gratitude that Harry is sure he would give. At the end of the chat she would always give her promise to the fans and up till now she never ever broke one of her promises.

If she wasn't lucky and the security might be too tight, she would always smile sadly and mouthed her apology in return. Fans however still love and adore her knowing that Y/n is an absolute sweetheart.

It’s proven by how Harry would always tweet something related to the notes he received that day or how he would talk and even message the fans privately the next day. It happens more than once or twice and fans started realising that Y/n truly is an angel and Harry couldn't be luckier to have Y/n by his side.

Harry was one of the lucky people that found his love at a very early age. He got married to Y/n, his person at the age of 28. Truly it was one of his happiest days in his life when he kissed Y/n in front of his loved ones as his bride.

Another moment that could top his happiest day would be right now. It would be this event that Y/n had prepared for him. Y/n had tried to cook his favourite meal, sushi. It was rather hard and Y/n is a terrible cook but she did try her best and Harry loved it.

After Y/n prepared their dinner, she quickly poured Harry a glass of red wine. Y/n had read somewhere that red wine symbolises happiness and transformation.

Harry laughed heartedly when he saw Y/n staggering with a both hands occupied, a glass of red on her right hand and a glass of water on her left hand and a bowl of freshly cuts kiwi as the centre of her arm.

He was quick on his feet and offered his hand by taking both glasses on his hands, Y/n smiled and mumbled a small, “Thank you.”

When the both of them sat down on their couch, Harry quickly raised his eyebrow, Ar’ you not drinkin?” He tilted his head as he turned to look at Y/n.

Y/n’s ears turned red and Harry knew it was one of the signs, she was being shy. Y/n’s lips twitch into a small smile before she shook her head and took something out from her pocket.

Harry looked down at what she was handing him, it was a pregnancy test. He flipped it around and saw two bright red stripes appeared. He looked back at his wife, wide eyes waiting in anticipation for his reaction.

He looked back down at the test and let out a howl, “Love?” His voice full of surprise and eyes full of delight, “M’gonna be a father?” His grin was wide and it melted Y/n’s heart.

Y/n hummed happily and Harry really couldn't think of any other words even if he’s a billboard record holding song writer. Harry could only swooped her up in his arm and kissed her cheek loudly. “M’so happy.” As he muttered these words against her cheeks.

His hand softly trailing on her belly and he bended down to her stomach level and gave them a kiss. Y/n giggled as it tickled her and Harry laughed. He quickly peck her lips and mumbled against them, “Love yeh both.”

Y/n quickly turned her head and pressed a soft kiss against his cheek, “We love you too.”

The first time Y/n was talking in her sleep, Harry was utterly confused. They were bundled up under a thick blanket, when Y/n started squirming. Harry woke up and looked down at her sleepily.

“Sleep, Love.” His voice deep and raspy.

Y/n knuckled her eyes and quietly say, “I’m a Ravenclaw.” Her eyes still shut close but her lips widened forming a huge grin.

Harry opened his eyes widely thinking that Y/n couldn't sleep and she was awake but when he looked down to the girl around his arms, eyes still fully closed, he was confused.

“Ravenclaw?” He asked while looking down at his girl. He felt his girl nodding her head around his chest and Harry’s heart squeezed at how precious his girlfriend is.

She’s talking in her sleep and that moment Harry realised that he was absolutely whipped for this girl.

“How’re you so sure?” He asked, amused.

Her eyebrows furrowed lightly and her lips jutted out softly, “I was sorted.” Harry chuckled softly and continued asking, “Sorted?”

This time Y/n hummed and whispered, “Pottermore.” With that Harry remembered how she was gushing about the quiz made by one of her favourite authors, J.K. Rowling.

Harry smiled and kissed her forehead and she smiled sleepily and nuzzled closer to him. Harry is truly, madly, deeply in love with her.

After Y/n’s surprise dinner. Harry’s stomach was constantly backflipping every now and then. Harry was too happy that he couldn't sleep. Y/n on the other hand was drained. After a day out with her friends and preparing her surprise for Harry, she was absolutely worn out.

Harry looked down at his angel, eyes fluttered close and her cheeks mushed against his chest, his heart skipped a beat and it’s just impossible for him not to fall for her even harder.

He remembered the first time he fell for her. She was reading a book when she squealed and her eyes lit up at certain part of the book. He remembered that she’s insanely bright and knowledgable. A bit quirky and dorky but absolutely intelligent.

Y/n tightened his hold around Harry and she was mumbling something, Harry smiled knowing this is one of signs of her going to sleep talk. This time Y/n’s eyes flutters open and Harry could only smile back at her.

“You okay?” His voice was soft and tender and Y/n couldn't help but smile at her husband and nodded her head.

“I dreamt about something,” her voice was thick and heavy with sleep.

“Bout something, huh?” He teased her softly while squeezing her hips. Y/n rolled her eyes playfully before Harry continued, “Wha’ did you dream about?”

“That I was a yellow butterfly.” Her voice was dreamy and she said it with a small smile.

It was no secret that Y/n adores butterflies. She once did a research about butterfly and from that moment she fell in love with butterflies. There was even one moment when they were dating and Harry could never forget this moment.

“Harry Edward Styles, I love you.” She said it loud and clear with smile lingering on her face. Harry was too starstruck and in love that he couldn't say anything even with his mouth hanging open.

Harry just leaned closer and put both of his arms around her waist and smeared their lips together, “I love you so much more.” He mumbled against her lips and connected them together.

As much as Harry wanted to continue this forever, he had to pull away and took a breather. Y/n’s dreamy smile was still plastered and Harry was 100% sure he would do anything just to keep that smile on her face.

Harry was still smiling when he asked, “What else did you wanna say to me, Love?” He asked her, recalling that she had mentioned two things that she wished to tell him.

Y/n just giggled before pulling his t-shirt closer to her and she tip-toed and whispered to his cheeks, “I wanna be a yellow butterfly...” As soon as those words left her lips, he hugged her close and smiled.

“You can always be my yellow butterfly.” He whispered back to Y/n which made her laugh loudly in return and as cliche as it sounds, it sounds like music to his ear.

“Butterfly, eh?” He teased her again as he was reminded about their first confession. She pouted softly and pinched his arm lightly before he laughed and said, “You’re always my yellow butterfly, Love.”

Harry saw his wife pinched eyebrows before continuing, “They’re really pretty and you’re really pretty too.” He flirted playfully with a small while nudging her with his shoulder.

She rolled her eyes playfully at her husband antique but she couldn't hide the small smile the crept in and closed her eyes in content. “Their lives are pretty sad though,” she let out a deep breath.

Harry hummed in response waiting for her to continue.

“They struggled for so long as eggs, larva, pupa then became a butterfly,” This time her eyes were still closed and she her grip on to Harry tighter.

“Continue, m’love.” He whispered as he rubbed small circles on her exposed arms.

“Then they die after two weeks or less.” She sighed before looking up to him. Harry smiled softly at her glossy eyes.

“But they helped the world become a better place to live in.” He continued before kissing her cheeks softly and she sniffled, “You’re right.”

Harry chuckled softly before pressing his lips on top of her crown head and nuzzled closer towards her neck, her back against him. “Rest well, m’love.”

Y/n sighed in content and grabbed his arm around her and hold it close towards her chest. They both fell asleep against each other with a smile on their faces.

Little did they know, Y/n was indeed just like a butterfly. Her life was cut short when she gave birth to her precious daughter. It wasn't clear how did it happen but the doctors and nurses were saying about severe blood loss. Indeed it was a life for a life.

When Harry heard the news that his daughter is safe and healthy his heart was relieved and overflowed with joy. It was when he saw the doctor’s forced smile his heart stuttered.

“Your wife did not make it.” The doctor said it. There he said it. As soon as those words were uttered by the doctor. His heart was ripped apart, left shattered. His guts clenched in ways that he never knew could.

It felt like air cut out his throat and he couldn't breathe as it hurts so bad. His knees dropped on the floor, not knowing what to do. He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe, how could he do that when his other half was forever gone and lost?

He just couldn’t believe what happened. His mother was quick beside him and cradled him closer just like how she did when her son was younger. Harry shook his head in denial and Anne was just there wrapping her warm arms around her son with silent tears falling down for her lost daughter-in-law.

Harry was trembling and shaking, he was angry to the point that his whole body was thrashing around the hospital floor. The whole scene was just too unbearable that everyone’s heart broke at an instant when Harry let out a loud sob.

When the news was broadcasted and the whole world knew about Harry’s loss. Everyone weeped and grieved together with Harry. When every started moving on, Harry couldn’t. He broke whenever he saw things that reminded him of Y/n. Thus his sister took care of their daughter at that moment.

The world truly see how broken and loss Harry was, it was not a doubt that Y/n truly meant everything to him.Harry took a break from the public eye by disappearing and spending more time back at his home. It was too painful for him to step inside their house as Y/n’s scent was still strong and he would just break down right there and then.

He started drinking twice his liquor and then thrice. He didn't know what exactly drive him back to go back to their house. But that night he did.

He stepped in to their house that felt familiar yet oddly strange. The warmth was replaced by the musky air and dust. His footsteps were heavy as he had to physically drag himself towards their shared room. He could faintly smell her perfume.

He stopped as soon as his eyes reached his own reflection at Y/n’s make up desk. His hair tousled in every directions, his eyes were rimmed red and deep black bags under his eyes, his shoulders drooped slightly and he’s barely breathing, he felt barely alive.

His tired eyes traveled down to his rumpled and dirty clothes but his eyes landed on a piece of letter. He felt his eyes welled up with tears and his heart throbbed painfully and his throat clogged up as soon as he saw the familiar handwriting of his dead wife.

Haz :)

He took the letter with trembling hands and opened the letter and the first tear rolled down, with shaky breath, he closed his eyes trying to compose himself and started reading the letter.

Hi!

Gosh this is so awkward, I don’t even know why I’m writing this letter to you when you are here laying beside me in deep sleep and quite frankly snoring loudly enough to wake the whole neighbourhood but I’ve come to tolerate the noise enough.

Harry’s lips cracked into a small smile knowing how Y/n had always complained him snoring loudly.

I can’t believe we’re gonna be parents soon. It felt just like yesterday that you were begging for one... You had no idea how my heart leapt twice, you know twice. First when I looked at the result after I peed on the pregnancy test, second when I had to go to the doctor for a clear confirmation.

Anyway, enough about that. I just wanna say that I’m scared. Tomorrow is our due date, if you don't remember.

I’m scared that I won't be a good mother enough for our child BUT I do believe that we have great teamwork. One thing I know for sure is that I’m grateful that my child would have a father like you.

Someone she could look up to and someone who could give assurance and comfort. I mean you take good care of me and I couldn't possibly say enough thank you in my life time for that. Nonetheless thank you, Haz.

If you ever doubted yourself for being a bad father just come and take a look of this letter. Somehow, I feel like you’ll need some assurance, I mean, who doesn't right?

You’ll be fine, you’ll be the best dad in the whole wide world, or grandma, who knows? (Please get my Ant-man reference there, writing this down just incase you don't.)

Scratch that, you are amazing through and through.

I love you. I adore you. I appreciate you.

All the love, Y/n. x

Did I just copy you there? I just did ;)

As soon as he finished reading, he turned the paper around hoping to see something else. It couldn't be just a letter, Harry needed her. How could he be father when Y/n wasn't the mother?

Yet, he smiled for the first time in a while. Y/n had always been able to make her smile without her even trying. Clearly she could even when she was already away.

He cried once again and again but this time every tears that dropped felt like a burden was lifted. After hours and hours of crying, he felt like his broken heart was slowly mended.

Although Y/n was already gone, she never truly left.

Y/n would always be around. Whenever he walked through this road, he would always remember Y/n’s laughter and jokes. Whenever he walked through his favourite bakery, he would always remember Y/n giggling about the frostings. Anywhere he goes, there would be traces of Y/n here and there.

He even got a daily reminder or a small miniature of Y/n, his very own daughter. The way his daughter would always pet the dog every time she meets one. The way his daughter’s eyes lit up with joy and hands moving animatedly whenever she talks something she’s passionate about. The way his daughter would have conversation with him even if she’s asleep.

Harry promised Y/n to be the best parent their daughter could ever wished for. He promised to take care of his daughter and raise her with all the love he could offer and that his daughter will always remember that her mother was a real life angel.

Just like his wife, Harry never breaks his promises.

Five years later...

They were having picnic in their backyard. The sun was up and bright. They both prepared peanut butter jelly, two glasses of lemonade and kiwi ice-cream for dessert.

Harry is on his back and a small smile painted on his face with his daughter’s head on his lap. “Daddy, tell me more about Mummy.” His daughter rolled out and sat up straight with an excited smile.

Harry sat up, following her movement and smiled softly and his daughter. “Yer mom likes talking in her sleep.” He whispered as if he was telling her a secret.

His daughter giggled softly, “Me too.”

Harry chuckled and shook his head, “You too.”

“What did she say?” Her toothy grin came up with her hands covering her giggly smile.

Harry pursed his lips, pretending he was thinking hard. “C’mon, tell me.” His daughter jumped up and rubbed her both hands, pleading for him to tell more. “Please...”

Harry laughed at her being this cute, “She wanted to be a yellow butterfly.”

“Yellow butterfly?” She asked with her hands tilted quizzically. Harry smiled and nodded his head in confirmation. “I wanna be a yellow butterfly too.” She said and Harry was just grinning.

As soon as she plopped down, “Daddy, I love you.” She declared and hugged his father tight. In an instant, Harry’s arms went around the small figure girl.

“I love you too, Button.” He whispered and kissed her cheek. When they pulled apart, his daughter’s eyes lit up and her mouth was wide opened. Harry raised his eyebrow questioning her.

“Mummy’s here.” She pointed the small yellow butterfly perched on his right knuckles. Harry looked down to where she’s pointing and his eyes slightly watered before he took a deep breath and smiled. A small tear rolled down and his heart squeezed lightly.

“Mummy’s always here.” He raised his right knuckle and transferred the yellow butterfly on top of her shoulder. He used his index finger, pointing where her heart is. “She’s always here.”

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

so, this is my third writing post :)

i’m sorry for all the grammatical mistakes,, i’ll try to edit them soon

feedbacks are always appreciated :)

on the side note though i really wish people give more chances and appreciate single parents more!! really they deserve equal respect as other parents do too.

anyway, have a lovely day ahead. x

#harry styles #one direction #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles au #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fics #harry styles x reader #harry styles preferecne #one direction imagine #one direction imagines #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles drabble #singledad!harry

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richincolor · 6 years

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Crystal’s Favorites of 2018

This year was a busy one. I read more than fifty of the books we've reviewed or highlighted on the blog, so it took some time to narrow down my list of favorites. Here are a few of the books I enjoyed this year in no particular order.

The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo HarperTeen [Audrey's review]

A young girl in Harlem discovers slam poetry as a way to understand her mother’s religion and her own relationship to the world. Debut novel of renowned slam poet Elizabeth Acevedo.

Xiomara Batista feels unheard and unable to hide in her Harlem neighborhood. Ever since her body grew into curves, she has learned to let her fists and her fierceness do the talking.

But Xiomara has plenty she wants to say, and she pours all her frustration and passion onto the pages of a leather notebook, reciting the words to herself like prayers—especially after she catches feelings for a boy in her bio class named Aman, who her family can never know about. With Mami’s determination to force her daughter to obey the laws of the church, Xiomara understands that her thoughts are best kept to herself.

So when she is invited to join her school’s slam poetry club, she doesn’t know how she could ever attend without her mami finding out, much less speak her words out loud. But still, she can’t stop thinking about performing her poems.

Because in the face of a world that may not want to hear her, Xiomara refuses to be silent.

Darius the Great is Not Okay by Adib Khorram Dial Books [Author interview]

Darius Kellner speaks better Klingon than Farsi, and he knows more about Hobbit social cues than Persian ones. He’s a Fractional Persian–half, his mom’s side–and his first-ever trip to Iran is about to change his life.

Darius has never really fit in at home in Portland, and he just knows things are going to be the same in Iran. His clinical depression doesn’t exactly help matters, and trying to explain his medication to his grandparents only makes things harder. Then Darius meets Sohrab, the boy next door, and everything changes. Sohrab introduces Darius to all of his favorite things–mint syrup and the soccer field and a secret rooftop overlooking the city’s skyline. He gets Darius an Iranian National Football Team jersey that makes him feel like a True Persian for the first time. And he understands that sometimes, friends don’t have to talk. Sohrab calls him Darioush–the original Persian version of his name–and Darius has never felt more like himself than he does now that he’s Darioush to Sohrab.

By turns hilarious and heartbreaking, Adib Khorram’s brilliant debut is for anyone who’s ever felt not good enough–then met a friend who makes them feel so much better than okay.

The Astonishing Color of After by Emily X.R. Pan Little, Brown & Company [My review]

Leigh Chen Sanders is absolutely certain about one thing: When her mother died by suicide, she turned into a bird.

Leigh, who is half Asian and half white, travels to Taiwan to meet her maternal grandparents for the first time. There, she is determined to find her mother, the bird. In her search, she winds up chasing after ghosts, uncovering family secrets, and forging a new relationship with her grandparents. And as she grieves, she must try to reconcile the fact that on the same day she kissed her best friend and longtime secret crush, Axel, her mother was taking her own life.

Alternating between real and magic, past and present, friendship and romance, hope and despair, The Astonishing Color of After is a novel about finding oneself through family history, art, grief, and love.

The Return by Zetta Elliott Rosetta Press [Author Spotlight]

After a devastating injury, seventeen-year-old Hakeem Diallo is leaving basketball and his life in Brooklyn behind to spend the summer with his grandmother in Senegal. Three years have passed since the earthquake of 2011 when Keem witnessed his girlfriend’s apparent suicide in the deep. Weeks later he received a mysterious text that led him to believe Nyla might still be alive, but her silence over the years has led Keem to believe that the girl he once loved is gone.

Keem arrives in Dakar determined to put the past behind him, but then Nyla unexpectedly returns and draws him back into her dangerous world. Once trained by The League, Nyla is now a fugitive with a mission to expose their corruption. As Nyla grows more and more powerful, she inspires both fear and awe in others. Keem cannot deny his love for her and yet he fears that Nyla has become a demon. When The League finally hunts Nyla down, Keem’s loyalty is tested. Is he willing to give his life for a girl who is no longer human?

Hearts Unbroken by Cynthia Leitich Smith Candlewick Press [My review] [Author interview]

When Louise Wolfe’s first real boyfriend mocks and disrespects Native people in front of her, she breaks things off immediately and dumps him.

It’s her senior year, anyway, and she’d rather spend her time on her family and friends and working on the school newspaper.

The editors pair her up with Joey Kairouz, the ambitious new photojournalist, and in no time the paper’s staff find themselves with a major story to cover: the school musical director’s inclusive approach to casting “The Wizard of Oz” has been provoking backlash in their mostly white, middle-class Kansas town.

From the newly formed “Parents Against Revisionist Theater” to anonymous threats, long-held prejudices are being laid bare and hostilities are spreading against teachers, parents, and students—especially the cast members at the center of the controversy, including Lou’s little brother, who’s playing the Tin Man.

As tensions heighten at school, so does a romance between Lou and Joey—but as she’s learned, “dating while Native” can be difficult. In trying to protect her own heart, will Lou break Joey’s?

Down and Across: A Novel by Arvin Ahmadi Viking Books for Young Readers [My review]

Scott Ferdowsi has a track record of quitting. Writing the Great American Novel? Three chapters. His summer internship? One week. His best friends know exactly what they want to do with the rest of their lives, but Scott can hardly commit to a breakfast cereal, let alone a passion.

With college applications looming, Scott’s parents pressure him to get serious and settle on a career path like engineering or medicine. Desperate for help, he sneaks off to Washington, DC, to seek guidance from a famous professor who specializes in grit, the psychology of success.

He never expects an adventure to unfold out of what was supposed to be a one-day visit. But that’s what Scott gets when he meets Fiora Buchanan, a ballsy college student whose life ambition is to write crossword puzzles. When the bicycle she lends him gets Scott into a high-speed chase, he knows he’s in for the ride of his life. Soon, Scott finds himself sneaking into bars, attempting to pick up girls at the National Zoo, and even giving the crossword thing a try–all while opening his eyes to fundamental truths about who he is and who he wants to be.

#YALit

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mdzs-tgcf-svsss-fanblog · 5 years

Text

Okay!! Time to start of Liushen week now!! For now, I’ll post the prompts here on tumblr, and then after Liushen week is over I’ll put them onto AO3!! Prompt 1 after the readmore!

Liushen Week Day 1- Firsts: Prompt A, first kiss

Liu Qingge walked on the path towards the Qing Jing Peak, carrying a dead short-haired monster in his hands to give to Shen Qingqiu, his back straight as he moved with the grace of a large cat stalking it’s prey. His dark eyes flicked around alertly, hearing the sound of disciples chattering in the distance, the voice of a female disciple he couldn’t quite remember the name of of ringing out in particularly. What was her name again? She was one of the ones that had been clingy towards Luo Binghe from what he recalled, but she had barely been in his notice. He shrugged it off, not caring in particular to figure out the girl’s name right now. He avoided the sound of the disciples, wanting to see if he could catch Shen Qingqiu alone, worried for the man and not wishing to engage in idle chitchat or deal with the incessant questions peppered by some of the scholar’s pupils.

He could tell that Shen Qingqiu was heavily affected by the loss of his beloved pupil, Luo Binghe, during the Immortal Alliance Conference. He had been able to tell the boy had good potential, recalling how Shen Qingqiu had snapped him up to spite Liu Qingge after Liu Qingge had pointed him out the day the hopefuls who wanted to enter the sect were digging holes. The peak lord of Bai Zhan Peak hardly cared about that by then, however, the time between the events great and the fact that Shen Qingqiu had saved his life when he had suffered that qi deviation more than making up for it. Liu Qingge often wondered at the abrupt change in personality and intentions, recalling the illness that had struck the ever-composed man. They had long since figured out he’d lost some of his memories after the incident, and recalled how they assumed he had suffered from his own qi deviation to cause it. But either way, he was more than happy with the change, much preferring how Shen Qingqiu was more friendly and didn’t seem as likely to murder someone and pass it off as a accident.

Liu Qingge had reached the bamboo house, his hands firmly enclosed on the monster as he carried it. He dropped it about a foot away from the outside of the door and went to knock, frowning in hearing no response. After a moment of hesitation, Liu Qingge moved around the building, catching sight of Shen Qingqiu standing in front of the sword grave made from Luo Binghe’s sword. Shen Qingqiu’s fist was wrapped tightly around one of his fans, a look of grief, regret, and pain on his face as he gazed forlornly at the grave. Liu Qingge hesitated, unused to Shen Qingqiu displaying such emotions so openly, far more used to the calm and collected Shen Qingqiu who would hide behind his fan with a elegant turn of his wrist, the one who’d speak in a gentle voice. The one who kept his face impassive and calm, with no hints to his inner thoughts.

It felt almost… sacrilegious somehow seeing Shen Qingqiu’s pain and grief shown openly, seeing that he looked close to tears, showing the emotions that he normally did not show. Liu Qingge bit his lip without thinking, wondering if he should leave the man to his grief, leave to flee back to his own comfortable peak where he didn’t have to think about the feelings of other people, could simply focus on battling and improving himself and scold his disciples into shape. Shen Qingqiu sighed suddenly, turning and freezing at the sight of Liu Qingge standing there, the fan flying up to cover his face in a swift, graceful movement, the eyes not quite being covered enough to hide the traces of tears that were clinging to the lashes.

“Liu-shidi, I didn’t hear you come. What brings you here?” Shen Qingqiu’s voice is steady and smooth, sounding completely unruffled. Liu Qingge cleared his throat slightly, deciding to follow along and pretend that he hadn’t seen the naked emotions on the man’s face from moments ago, going closer to Shen Qingqiu.

“I brought another edible monster for you to eat. It might take some seasoning, but it’s not bad.” Liu Qingge reached Shen Qingqiu’s side, stopping at a polite, proper distance. Shen Qingqiu’s eyes gazed at him from behind the fan, the tears on the lashes being blinked away rapidly.

“Thank you for the… meal… But you don’t need to keep doing that, Liu-shidi. It gives my disciples a scare sometimes when they stumble on your gifts unexpectedly. Ning YingYing almost fainted last time.” Shen Qingqiu cleared his throat slightly, starting to glide towards his bamboo house. Ah, that was the name of the girl that Liu Qingge had heard the most clearly before on his way up. Liu Qingge fell into step beside him, biting back a comment that the girl should learn to brace herself better, not wanting to risk upsetting Shen Qingqiu in his current state. And knowing to expect people to be able to steady themselves to the same standard as Shen Qingqiu or himself wasn’t wise, particularly when the person was still a young disciple that didn’t have as much experience.

“They’re healthy for you. I wouldn’t bring them if they were something bad.” Liu Qingge glanced towards Shen Qingqiu, the fan hiding half of the man’s face. They reached the bamboo house, Shen Qingqiu glancing at the monster corpse but leading the way inside, heading into the small kitchen while Liu Qingge followed him in, gazing around Shen Qingqiu’s quarters quietly. He glanced towards Shen Qingqiu, seeing the man had put away his fan to start preparing tea and a plateful of snacks, each movement being graceful and serene. Watching him in that moment, it was hard to believe that just moments ago the man had looked about ready to crumple from grief, had looked like someone whose world had just about ended.

Liu Qingge felt awkward, not knowing how to comfort Shen Qingqiu or how to support him. Bringing him the monsters he killed that could be eaten had felt like something that might help, and it was something he’d done anyways, so he’d seen no harm in it. Liu Qingge shook the thought out of his head as he watched Shen Qingqiu bustle around preparing the tea, the man bringing it and the plate of snacks over to the table. He gave Liu Qingge a mild look, gesturing at the place beside him.

“Liu-shidi, please sit down and enjoy this tea with me.” Shen Qingqiu’s voice was smooth, sounding as elegant as the way Shen Qingqiu’s hand and wrist had made the gesture, Liu Qingge sinking down to kneel at the table, Shen Qingqiu pouring him a cup of tea with a equal amount of grace.

“Thank you for the tea.” Liu Qingge picked up the cup and slowly sipped the tea, his eyes flicking towards Shen Qingqiu’s face, seeing the normal, composed expression on. He held back a sigh, wondering if asking Shen Qingqiu to fight him would hurt or help, feeling at a loss on what to do. He debated going to go ask his sister for suggestions, imagining that she might have some ideas on how to cheer up Shen Qingqiu from his grief.

“Ah, Liu-shidi… That monster you brought, how do you advise to cook it? I can ask Bing-... I can ask the disciples to butcher it and prepare it, but how do you normally eat it?” Shen Qingiqu inquired, his voice stumbling slightly when he half-way mentioned Luo Binghe’s name, Liu Qingge’s lips tightening a bit.

“I suggest stir-frying it, with the kinds of vegetables that you favor. Do not overdo it with the seasonings, the meat when cooked releases plenty of it. Eating it with congee works.” Liu Qingge suggested, not approaching Shen Qingqiu about his slip-up. Liu Qingge wondered if it was that Shen Qingqiu had not fully processed the death of his disciple, feeling sympathetic towards him. His eyes trailed to Shen Qingqiu’s right hand that had been pierced while he was trying to protect Luo Binghe, that had left him with the debilitating poison in his body that was being managed but still worried Liu Qingge on the possibility of it flaring while Shen Qingqiu was in danger of some kind and render him unable to defend himself. It seemed like Shen Qingqiu had sacrificed so much for the disciple, only to lose him in the end.

“I see, thank you. I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” Shen Qingqiu smiled slightly, Liu Qingge feeling a slight warmth in his chest at the sight. Even if he wasn’t sure if it was a genuine one or not, seeing the attempt at least helped. Liu Qingge nodded, drinking more of the tea that he had been given, trying to think of what to say. The silence felt pressing and suffocating to Liu Qingge, his hands squeezing the teacup slightly. Shen Qingqiu drank some of the tea himself before picking up one of the snacks, nibbling on it slowly while Liu Qingge watched, taking notice how pale Shen Qingqiu looked. Was he eating enough? Was he getting enough sleep?

Liu Qingge sighed reflexively, putting his teacup down a bit harder then he meant to, Shen Qingqiu jumping slightly and giving him a confused look, glancing between the tea and Liu Qingge.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to do that. Listen…” Liu Qingge apologized reflexively, focusing onto Shen Qingqiu, seeing the trace of grief in the man’s eyes still. He found himself standing up on impulse, Shen Qingqiu rising to his feet as well, a concerned look on his face. Liu Qingge impulsively grabbed onto Shen Qingqiu and brought him into a tight hug, kissing the slightly shorter man’s forehead in the way his mother would’ve kissed his when he was young and upset.

Shen Qingqiu froze in his arms, inhaling and exhaling a few times before reaching up to hug Liu Qingge a bit awkwardly, patting his back. Liu Qingge froze himself, his lips still pressed against Shen Qingqiu’s forehead, not knowing what to do next.

“Liu-shidi? You were about to say something?” Shen Qingqiu’s voice cut through his mental fog, Liu Qingge pulling his head away and clearing his throat.

“You… You aren’t alone here. You have the other peaks, and the rest of the sect to rely on. I… I know you’re grieving Luo Binghe, but… you don’t have to grieve by yourself or hide your grief. It could.. Help to let it out on someone else.” Liu Qingge fumbled over his words awkwardly, his eyes closed so that he couldn’t see Shen Qingqiu’s face. He had probably shattered several boundaries as it was, holding Shen Qingqiu in his arms and daring to kiss him.

“Liu-shidi… Thank you for your words, and for your care. If I need someone to lean on, I’ll do so.” Shen Qingqiu patted his back lightly, Liu Qingge clearing his throat awkwardly before stepping back, releasing Shen Qingqiu.

“Right, of course. But I should… probably take my leave now. Enjoy your dinner.”

“Of course, Liu-shidi. Take care on your way back to your peak.” Shen Qingqiu gave a fluid nod, smiling faintly at Liu Qingge. Liu Qingge nodded before leaving, stumbling out of the bamboo house and nearly tripping over the corpse, staggering off in a slightly unsteady gait, the back of his neck burning in feeling eyes peering after him, imagining Shen Qingqiu standing there with his fan covering his face, just staring at his back. Liu Qingge shook his head, trying to calm himself.

“I’ve… never kissed anyone beside family before. I mean… That was… not a romantic kiss or a kiss-kiss, but… Why the hell did I do that?!” Liu Qingge muttered to himself, flustered and baffled at his own actions. He wondered if he’d upset Shen Qingqiu with the hug much less the kiss.

“What the FUCK was that?! Why did Liu-juju hug me a-and… Am I that out of sorts?” Shen Qingqiu, meanwhile, was less upset and more utterly baffled, wondering what had been going through Liu Qingge’s head, his eyes landing on the corpse of the monster.

“He brings me the corpse of a dead monster he killed, randomly grabs me and hugs me and kisses my forehead, and then leaves. What is he, a cat?” Shen Qingqiu mumbled, reaching up to press his hand against his forehead, recalling the gentle pressure of the lips that had pressed against his skin, flustered by it all still. But felt slightly happy for the man’s care, guessing that it had to be difficult for the serious, straight-laced Liu Qingge to get the courage do such a thing. He smiled faintly to himself, returning his gaze to the monster they needed to butcher, sighing softly. He could tell that Liu Qingge had been rather stiff and trying to avoid looking at him.

“Guess I’ll need to give him something nice in return. Like a rare potion or something to do with fighting, hm…” Shen Qingqiu considered what to give him, a thoughtful look on his face. He hummed to himself before summoning a few disciples to help with butchering the dead monster, turning his focus into trying to get it prepared into a meal. And trying not to think of the warm kiss to his forehead, or the way Liu Qingge’s lips had felt while pressed against his skin.

#prompt 1: kiss #liushenweek #scum villain #liu qingge #shen qingqiu #sv #liushen

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elejah-wonderland · 6 years

Text

How To Hold My Heart/4

Fanfiction

Part 4

Elijah Mikaelson x Elena Gilbert

AU TVD/TO short story

a/n: Elena and Elijah worked together in a Law Firm. One night he hooked up with her friend Hayley, and continued seeing her. Elena, had always secretively loved Elijah, but never told him how she felt. Hayley fell pregnant and Elijah married her, and Elena went to live in Toronto, accepting a better job, but also to forget Elijah. Will life bring them together?

Thank so much for reading xoxo

tags @rissyrapp20 @dendrite-lover @cassienoble2000 @captainshurley @goddessofthunder112 @elejahforever @hides2000

_________

Days after

And, so Elena kissed her daughter goodbye and flew away to New York for a long weekend of elaborate parties surrounding Caroline and Klaus' wedding.

Straight from the airport, she was taken to the Bachelorette party and so the fun began. And it was a girly extravaganza. Everyone knew that Caroline's parties were to be remembered for centuries if not millenia.

The next morning, Elena woke up with a big hangover. A song still banging in her head from the night before. She realized she was in Caroline and Klaus’ new house, but at that moment all she wanted to have a shower and check her messages and coffee. A double mokkachino

As she got ready and made sure all was fine with her daughter, she ventured down to find the kitchen. She could hear someone shuffling some papers and as she got in the kitchen, she stood still as if she got trapped in some strange vacuum space.

"Elijah?!"- she let out in a half breath.

"Elena! Hello there!"- he said giving her a little smile.

Elena stood like someone had completely taken her whole being from this plane and entered it somewhere in a hazy dream world, and yet it was a reality that kicked her like the ice storm. And if she was to come back a 1000 times and it would always be the same.

"Hello"- she uttered with a mental gulp.

"Morning, love!"- Klaus said to a very groggy Caroline, who had just opened her eyes, still not clear if this was reality or dream.

"Mornin’"- she uttered faintly rubbing her eyes. Then as if stung by bee she sat up all in panic.

"OMG!!"- she said getting up looking for her robe.

"What's up?"- Klaus looked at her aaonished with her sudden frantic behaviour.

"What's up??!!"- Caroline looked at herself in the mirror- her make up was smudged and her hair all fuzzy. She rushed to the bathroom to take it off, she clued Klaus in on why she had gone slightly mad-

"I totally forgot that Elijah had come to stay with us last night!"

“Yes - so?”-Klaus looked at Caroline gone out.

"Ok, ahm- well, it's Elena"- Caroline now told Klaus why she was so flustered about Elena meeting Elijah and why she went to Toronto and that all these years she had to keep the lid on everything concerning Elijah as if he never existed.

"She had it that bad??"- Klaus was surprised.

"Sometimes people fall for the unavailable guy and they try to shake it, but it just won't go away"- Caroline said.

"I know that you are terribly romantic and I love you for it, but- I think you are blowing it out of proportion!"

Klaus now took his bride to be by the waist pulling her towards her, kissing her.

Meanwhile in the kitchen

Caroline was right about the impact Elijah would have upon Elena. Seeing him so unexpectedly hit her like an avalanche and her hello was accompanied with a problem in her air supply as if something got stuck in her throat.

She went straight to the counter and finding a glass in the cupboard, she poured herself some water from a water dispenser.

"Are you all right?"- Elijah inquired.

"Yeah, fine"- Elena reassured him after she took a few sips -"just dehydrated- one cocktail too many-it was Caroline's last night of freedom, you know- we let loose-"

"It must have been a really good night!"- Elijah said-"sit down, I will make fresh coffee and scrambled eggs?"

"Yeah, ahm-you don't have to.Coffee is more than enough!"- Elena said.

There he was, being this great guy, considerate, sweet, and the heart she had switched off, screamed at her reason to let it beat again. No. Stop it, Elena. But, I can't. You have to, Elena. Loving him has given you nothing but heartache, remember.

"Here you are"- he served her the espresso and a toasted bagel.

"Thanks"- Elena said-”Ok - ahm - so you are - here - early- though it’s none of my business.”

“Oh, I sold the loft. And haven’t found anything yet. Had to move out, and Klaus and Caroline offered to stay with them- till I buy something.”- Elijah explained as he sat down.

“Right. I am sorry - for having asked -”- Elena bit herself for asking why he was there.

"So, how is Toronto? You just left and forgot that we existed! If it wasn't for Caroline we wouldn't know anything about you?! So, you had a daughter, I hear!?"

Caroline kept him informed-Elena thought. And he cared to keep up with all surrounding her.

"I did"- Elena replied-" she is one and a half"

"Still can't picture you as a mom, I thought that career was everything for you!"

"Not everything"- Elena now said as she took a sip of the coffee.

"Sorry, I just-you were so dedicated to work and having accepted to head Maxwell's legal team. I didn't mean to say that-I put my foot in it!"-Elijah was apologetic.

"Hey- it's fine. I still love my work a lot, and am juggling both. Enzo is a great dad -and we have a nanny, too."

"So, Enzo - I was wondering who would sweep you off of your feet after all"- Elijah said.

As he said that, Elena felt as if there was no oxygen for a moment yet again.

"Enzo and I -we were just together with like no strings and then I got pregnant. He is a great guy, but- that's it."- Elena explained- "Ah,I am sorry, Elijah- I heard about Hayley- ahm- we used to be bffs -but- it just- there is no excuse- I should have called to tell you when Caroline told me - I am sorry."

"Yeah- ahm- thank you."- Elijah said. He moved the plate. And awkwardness descended between them.

Elijah felt that Elena was holding back and he didn't remember her as such. And his instinct told him that it was the talk of loss and grief that would make people become silent, so he changed the subject asking her about Jen and if she had a photo of her.

"Yes- of course- like thousands. Here."- she now opened the gallery icon on her phone and loads of photos of her daughter sprung up.

Caroline and Klaus appeared in a bit and joined in the conversation, gushing over the photos of Jen and then talked kids. Caroline saying she wanted at least three. Klaus was all wide-eyed. They then all teased him. As they finished breakfast, both Caroline and Elena went to get dressed as Caroline said that they still had tones to do till her wedding day on Monday.

In an hour or so, they were out. And as soon as they got out of the house and Caroline now was apologizing for the fact that she hadn't mentioned that Elijah would also be staying at the house.

"I should have warned you, but- it was just crazy the last few days, plus you banned me to talk about him, remember!?"'

"It's fine"- Elena said.

"Seriously, it's fine???!!! You are kidding me, right??!!"- Caroline now ripped into Elena not believing what she was hearing- " It didn't kill you seeing him????"

"Kill? Caroline?!!"

"Right- wrong choice of words! Hey, but you are breathing!! So, you're fine?!? No stomach butterlies? No heart bleeding??"-Caroline continued digging.

Elena stopped, looked at the sky, taking a breath and then looked at Caroline- and Caroline concluded for her friend-

"You are not over him!!"

Elena sighed -"Huh- what is this!? I wish I could cut my heart out and then it would be done or get hypnotized to hate him!!"

"It doesn't work that way!!"- Caroline said.

"Right! This weekend is about your wedding! And that's all we are going to focus on!!"-Elena said decisively.

"Elena, you're shutting down again!"-Caroline nearly screamed at her.

"I hope they still have those yummy doughnuts with caramel topping!"-Elena said and now carried on walking. Her phone rang and it was Bonnie, who was already waiting for them in their favourite café.

Caroline was fuming inside because of Elena's resolve, but there was nothing she could do at the moment. They had always respected each other's wishes, even though they were not in agreement with it at times.

And the weekend carried on with the grand Mikaelson family dinner with other of their friends and collegues. Elena and Elijah acted as friends, as they always had done when she still tworked for the Mikaelson's. It was Caroline who now started plotting with Bonnie how to break Elena's defences. She was happy and she felt the need to make two people she cared about be happy too.

___

That evening

"Here is to you surviving the Mikaelson dinner- do you know that this now makes you family?!"- Elijah said to Elena handing her a glass of champagne.

"Really? How?"- she took the glass off of him.

"You are the Maid of honour!"- Elijah said.

"I didn't know this makes us family?!"- Elena chuckled a bit. Inside she was burning with thousand knots making her stomach churn. She wanted to escape and not move away from him ever - all this was playing like a mad tug of war in her heart.

She didn't want to get drunk, as she knew she could not trust herself with him. She put the glass away after a tiny sip.

"So, can I see your speech?"- Elijah said.

"My speech? Isn't that your responsibility?"- Elena shot at him.

"Yeah, and I am stuck with it- I wish he asked Kol to be his best man- all this just brings memories"-

"Your wedding- you must miss her, especially on occasions like this"- Elena then said.

"No.- Elijah said somewhat in a cold manner which came across a tad bit unusual. Elijah sipped the champagne down and then put a strange sour smile on.

Instinctively, Elena put her hand on his arm as if she understood the raging mix of emotions that were underneath the pleasant self-assured exterior.

He looked at her and the look streamed unrest but a dear familiarity saying that she knows the way he feels and that she was there for him.

and then Elena's phone rang and she pulled her hand away now looking at the display-

"Enzo-"- she said- "I have to take this"- and she walked away so she could talk.

Elijah stood looking at her as she walked out onto the balcony. Rebekah was not far seeing the moment Elena and Elijah shared.

"Flirting with the maid of honour- I saw you- don't deny it- "- Rebekah teased.

"Who is denying it"- Elijah said back at his sister.

"Oh! Really?”- Rebekah smiled-”Good for you.”

“We have always been- friends. She never really saw me as - you know. She was always into bad boys with motor bikes and leather jackets. I am not her type.”

“Oh, please. If we put you in a white T-shirt, jeans, and leather jacket - she would not know what hit her.”

Elijah now smiled at his sister- “What is this? Since when do you play match-maker?”

“Since I saw the way you looked at her”- Rebekah said-”You are so into her.”

“Don’t do anything. I warn you.”- Elijah said to his sister as he knew what she was like.

“Oh, come on, Elijah. Caroline said that she is available.”

“And lives in Canada.”- Elijah now said-”and - I just don’t know - just let it be, all right?”

“Ah, all right.”- Rebekah puffed away, and as Stefan Salvatore now stopped dancing with Lexi Branson, the blonde Mikaelson now trailed off to grab him for the next dance.

Elijah sipped away his Champagne and now went to the balcony, finding Elena having finished her conversation.

“Everything all right?”

“Yes. They lost Mrs Cuddles in the park and Jen was playing up, not wanting to fall asleep without it.”- Elena replied.

“That’s a major crisis.”- Elijah said.

“It so is.”

“I hope there is a good substitute.”- Elijah now asked,

“Enzo went to buy the same teddy, but, unfortunately, nothing can beat the Original -”

“So, that’s it? Is there anything that console her?”

“I am afraid not.”- Elena said-”but - life does that and - she will have to somehow get over it.”

“You are harsh.”

“No. Just realistic.”- Elena said-”There is one remedy. Enzo will play her favourite lullaby on his guitar till she falls asleep.”

“He plays a guitar - “- Elijah now said taking another glass of Champagne from the waiter that just by.

“You played a piano once - at the Christmas party?”- Elena now remembered.

“Yeah, I did. You remember that?”

“Yes. You were good.”

“I don’t know. Must have had too much Bourbon.”- Elijah said.

And as they walked now slowly back in, a woman now came rushing towards Elijah, and taking hold of his hand.

“Sorry, but - we need you to referee this.”

And she dragged him now away, leaving Elena behind. She could see him shrugging his shoulders as - sorry, but Elena waved it off as ok. Being joined now by Bonnie and Damon, she tuned to them.

“I am tired.”- Elena now said and asked them if they would drive her back to Caroline’s house.

********

A few days after

Elena put her headphones on as the plane took off. She closed her eyes and only one picture kept repeating in her head.

Flashback

"Dance?" - Elijah asked Elena after Klaus and Caroline finished with their wedding dance.

She accepted hand and they walked out to the dance floor.

"Everything all right?"- he asked.

"Yes. Why?"- Elena gulped a bit as she felt his hand sit on her back making her tremble a bit.

"It feels like you are miles away- is little Jen all right?"

"She is fine."- Elena replied -" just-" she now looked at him and stopped moving away from him- "feel sick- Sorry-" and walked away from him.

He was stunened for just a milisecond and then walked after her into the garden.

Elena rubbed her forehead a bit. Why could she not keep her emotions at check, she was mad at herself. The heart, she thought was ice, thawed the moment she saw him standing in the kitchen greeting her warmly. Him calling her name now brought her back from her thoughts. He gently touched her arm saying - "Shall I get a medic?"-

Elena turned around - "No,no- I am better- I don't know what happened- just felt faint- probably cos I hardly ate anything today"- she invented.

"Oh, we will soon remedy that. Let me get you a plate full of canapes at least for starters"- he said and disappeared.

Elena wanted to disappear herself. Bonnie had noticed them walking away and now came to Elena asking her what had happened. Elena reassured Bonnie that nothing major was happening and that she should not worry and go back to the party and as Elijah returned with a plate of food, Bonnie left them as it was clear that those two needed time to themselves and that they had to deal with emotions jumbled up. Caroline often said that Bonnie had witchy powers as she could see things noone could.

Elena took some of the food and seemed to relax a bit.

"Thank you so much"- she said-"but, seriously, you don't have to stay with me."

"You are the maid of honour -it's my duty to look after you"- he joked.

"Oh, really?"

"Caroline said so, and -"

"Caroline?!"- Elena interrupted him.

"She is the bride and you do as she says-it's her day"- Elijah continued-

"What else did she say?"- Elena said slightly peeved off.

"Nothing much-"- Elijah said casually, but Elena knew now that Caroline must have added something more.

Elena stood up declaring she was perfectly fine again and that they should return to their maid of honor and best man duty. Elijah followed her back to the party and she carried on being the exemplary maid of honour concentrating solely on that. As they saw the happy married couple leave for their honeymoon, Elena was ready to go as well.

"Right, ahm"- she turned to Elijah-"I am heading off- just wanted to tell you that it was great seeing you again."

"The pleasure was mine"- he said cheerfully-"I hope you will not continue being a stranger-"

"No"- Elena slipped.

"You owe me a dance!"- he continued.

"I guess I do"- Elena replied-"well, see you"

And then they both with yet again enveloped with awkwardness stood like enchanted in the moment and by the power of some strange force they neared one another. But both stood like frozen.

Elena now stepped back - “Ahm - bye”

“Bye”- Elijah slipped and Elena turned and walked out into the night as if midnight struck and she had to float away like one of the fairy-tale characters.

Elijah was left gazing in the night. His heart bumping a beat like it did the night they nearly kissed so many years ago.

On the plane back to Toronto, Elena played all the scenes of their meetings together. Her heart was in bigger turmoil than before. "Elijah-" she whispered to herself-"damn you!"

__________

#Elijah Mikaelson #Elena Gilbert #ElenaxElijah #Fanfiction #tvdfanfic #alternative universe

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