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calumxkisses · 3 years

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Dancing In The Sky | a.i.

pairing: ashton irwin x reader

genre: fluff to angst

warnings: death (not main characters)

summary: request - Hi!!! It’s very morbid but, I really want one with ash or cal, where they’re in one of the boys house just the boys and their girls, and then the reader receive a call in the middle of the conversation telling someone in her family is dead and she just in shock and she tells them, and the he hugs her and she breaks!!! Thanks

a/n: recently my granny had to be rushed to the hospital and i thought i was going to lose her - luckly it didn't happen. i felt this request particularly close. i always say 'i love you' to my grandma before hunging up on the phone (we live pretty far away from each other) and i thought about what would happen if i forgot to say it, not knowing it would be for the last time. i'm sorry to anyone of you if this triggers you. i love you.

you should read this imagine while listening to: before you go

➳

The light coming in from the window on your right illuminates the whole room, it’s late afternoon but the sun shines almost as if it were noon. The scorching heat has now passed, there is a breeze that cools the air and spreads the scent of the grill in the garden, alternating the scent of grilled vegetables and steaks throughout the house. The pool water is still moving, the inflatable flamingo is wedged near the pool stairs and you can still see the tracks of Michael's wet feet near the diving board.

Halsey's songs are repeated at a low volume, but the guys sing them out loud and a smile forms on your face as you see how they are always ready to support their friends, not only publicly with tweets or instagram stories, but also in private, enjoying music like normal people do.

You hold onto the sweatshirt Ashton gave you as you grab your cell phone from the sofa and put it in your shorts pocket. Your hair is still wet from the shower you just took and it’s leaking few drops of water as you head outside, where your friends are starting to set the table for dinner.

You don't know how it happened, you have vague memories, but you feel grateful to have them around you, to have the opportunity to consider them as a second family, to be able to hug them and to be able to laugh with them. It is a fortune that not everyone has and you make sure you don't waste this opportunity.

“Honey!” Ashton yells, shaking his hand up and looking at you with an amused look. A few tufts of hair fall in front of his face and with one hand he tries to move them back, only to find them in front of his eyes again. His swimsuit is now dry, his chest is red from staying under the sun all day but his tattoos still manage to stand out in the tan and a huge smile covers his face.

Seeing him so happy, confident, at peace with his mind and in love with life, warms your heart and you almost feel like crying of joy in seeing him like this.

You wiped his tears, hugged him under the covers and held him a million times as his demons took over, when mirrors became enemies and food scared him.

You turned off his cell phone every time he read comments about his body and spent sleepless nights keeping him company while he vented his frustration by playing the drums.

You held out your hand to him while accompanying him in his battle against himself, you kissed him as he went through hell and his joy was worth every single tear.

You are proud of him, of the way he went back to wearing his favorite t-shirts and of the way he has come to love all his flaws, even though you're still sure he doesn't even have one.

As you leave the house, a cool breeze passes through your hair and you instinctively close your eyes to be able to appreciate the moment of coolness in the terrible heat of the last few days.

When you open your eyes, amazement takes over your body: the sky is not simply blue like the water in the pool you've been in all afternoon, but pink and orange clouds cover it completely; the sun hides behind them, tinges the sky with more intense colors and you feel your soul leave your body at the sight of so much beauty.

The sunset is so mesmerizing that you don't even feel the need to pick up your phone and take a picture of it, it's so beautiful that you're sure not even the best cameras would be able to capture such a marvel.

It’s a pink and orange sunset, bigger clouds are the backdrop to smaller more intense colors and the skyline of the city is slowly tinged with black, the lights of the buildings begin to see each other more and the world slows down as it prepares for the quietest hours.

The sunset arouses familiar, nostalgic, certainly not typical emotions in you; it’s so beautiful that you feel like you are living a dream, you pinch your arm lightly to make sure you are awake but Ashton's laugh reminds you that it is reality and, with that melody in the background, you understand that the difference between dream and reality is not that big.

And even if it were a dream, you know that dreaming never hurt anybody.

As the sunset surrounds you in a warm hug, a small white butterfly begins to flutter around you, spinning around and bringing a smile to your lips. The insect is small, but in the orange sky it stands out in an important way, making you feel like a Disney princess. You stretch your hand up, raising your forefinger and inviting the little butterfly to lean on it and, without fear, it leans on it, resting its wings and showing itself even more beautiful than you thought.

It’s white but at the corners of its wings it has black spots, its gaze seems to be directed towards you as its antennae move delicately. A sense of awe and wonder makes its way inside of you and you slowly bring the butterfly closer to you so you can admire it better, noticing how safe it continues to feel with you.

“Is everything alright?” Sierra asks as she sets the plates on the table, she's too busy to notice how you seem to be in symbiosis with the butterfly.

“Yeah.” You whisper while the insect continues to stay on your finger, motionless, leading you to feel a sense of peace in the moment you are living.

Suddenly, while the blue sky is giving its space to the dark night, the butterfly takes off and, after making another turn around you, heads towards the sky and merges with the lights of the stars.

You walk back to your friends, still confused about what just happened, and you see Michael trying to move the fire bowl to the corner of the pool. “Mike, if I were you I'd be more careful, you're not the luckiest person when it comes to fire.” You smile and you hear your friends laughing out loud as a grin appears on Michael's face.

“Don't worry, Crystal has seen enough tv shows about doctors to know what to do if I get burned again.” He replies looking at his girlfriend and laughing.

“Shut up and come here,” Crystal responds by pretending to be offended. “Dinner’s ready.” her lips try to hold back the smile that is forming on her face.

You sit on your boyfriend's lap while Luke sets the meat on the plates and Sierra pours the beer into your glass. Ashton pushes your hair to the side and kisses you on the neck, giving you goosebumps and getting winks from his friends.

“You’re terrible.” he replies while looking at them and squeezing his hands on your lap, his head resting on your back while he rolls his eyes and smiles. Everyone burst out laughing and the sound of their laughter still feels like the most beautiful melody to you.

As you are about to take your first bite, your phone starts ringing and vibrating inside the pocket of your shorts. You put your fork down and stand up, being careful not to trip over Ashton's feet as he gives you a questioning look. You give him a kiss on his head and you go away slightly from your group so you can hear better.

Your mother's voice is low as you bring the phone to your ear, a smile forms on your face to hear the sound of her voice but the world collapses on you a few seconds later, when her words become understandable while she cries.

The conversation is short-lived, it is mostly made up of your mother's sobs and words you never wanted to hear. Your mouth opens slightly and your heart seems to stop. And when she closes the call, you have a hard time figuring out if you are having a nightmare or if you are still in reality.

“Was that your lover on the phone?” Calum smiles as you stare at your phone screen as soon as you hang up the call. You look up and see everyone's gaze on you as your eyes start to pinch.

“It was my mother,” you take a deep sigh as you try to find the courage to speak. “My grandmother died a couple of hours ago. She's gone and-” and the words die in your mouth.

Your friends' smiles quickly transform as their brows rise and their eyes lose their light. Crystal is the first to hug you, in less than a second her arms are around you but it's all so surreal that you can't even find the strength to move your body. You hear whispers, but your ears are muffled as Ashton takes the place of your best friend and holds you close to his chest, kissing your hair and whispering words of comfort.

It all happens so fast that you struggle to metabolize, it seems to you that the whole world has stopped or is going too fast, it is hard to try to understand as your mind repeats your mother's words all over again.

You talked to your grandmother the day before, you described to her the weather and you told her all the projects you had in mind, including going to see her as soon as possible. She had told you some stories from her past because she knew how much you loved hearing stories from other times and then you said goodbye to her in a hurry because someone had rang the doorbell.

You didn't tell her you loved her and your heart breaks even more at the realization that she left without knowing the affection you felt for her.

Did she know you loved her? Did she know that she was the most important person to you? Did she know you were grateful for all the sacrifices she had made to make you happy? Did she know you were proud of her? Did she know you loved the way she kissed your hands? Did she know how much you cared about her? Or did she pass wondering if you loved her?

If that were the case, you would never forgive yourself.

Part of you, however, is aware that behind those wrinkles and trembling hands, there were years of wisdom and intelligence and that, even when she was sick, she knew that you loved her unconditionally.

You still remember how she was the one who taught you to ride a bike when your parents were too busy working, how her hunched back bent even more as she pushed you along the street outside your childhood house, letting you go on your own when you learned, while still lying to you about how her hands were attached to the bike, to make you feel protected.

You certainly still remember the way she bragged about you, how she proudly used to tell all the ladies at the grocery store that you were her niece, her greatest joy and the best gift she ever received.

And, if you close your eyes and focus, you can still feel the warmth of the old fireplace in her home, of her hands holding yours while your face was resting on her shoulder. You can still hear the sound of burning wood, of her sweet voice singing melodies belonging to past eras while, between one verse and another, her lips kissed your head and whispered words of love.

Most of all, you have memories of how her arms wrapped around your little body when there was a thunderstorm, when the screams inside your house got too loud and when you saw her again after weeks, with your hearts coming back to beat in unison and your lungs beginning to breathe again.

Now that she is gone, who would be by your side? Who would teach you to cook and sew?

You would no longer hear her heart beating when you leaned against her chest, you would no longer hear the sound of her breaths when you slept next to her, you would no longer wake up with the smell of the flowers she grew and, above all, her dry, wrinkled lips would no longer whisper “I love you” to you.

All the fights, all the moments when you were bothered by her calls and all your snorting about the boredom of being with her bring a pang to your heart that tastes of guilt and arrogance, of shame and wasted moments that won't come back.

She was now gone, her heart had beaten for the last time and her eyes had stopped shining and the more time passes, the more her absence starts to hurt.

While your friends are around you to not leave you alone and Ashton hugs you tightly while caressing your hair, everything seems to start to make sense: the butterfly that just moments before had leaned on your hand, the sunset so beautiful and intense - she was there, she was giving you her last goodbye with all the delicacy possible.

She was reassuring you that she will always be there for you, that she will be in the sunsets under which you will fall asleep and that she will be the butterflies that will fly around in the sky, to reassure you that everything’s gonna be alright.

And with this new certainty and a weight in your chest that will slowly go away, you let yourself go, the tears begin to roll down your face and the sobs echo in the silence of the evening, as the stars light up the sky and God gains a new angel.

Ashton knows it won't be easy, that it will be months before that pain will become more bearable and that family lunches and dinners will be harder, that that empty chair around the table will be a stab in the heart every time.

But he also knows that you are strong, that you will be able to overcome everything, that sadness will turn into a smile when you’ll remember her and that, whatever happens, in a way or another, he will always be there next to you, just like your grandma used to be.

—

#5 seconds of summer imagines #5 seconds of summer imagine #5sos imagine #5sos imagines #ashton irwin x reader #ashton irwin imagine #ashton 5 seconds of summer #ashton irwin imagines #ashton irwin #ashton irwin x you #ashton 5sos #ashton fletcher irwin #calum 5sos #calum 5 seconds of summer #michael 5sos #michael 5 seconds of summer #luke 5sos #luke hemmings

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fangirlapril2004 · 3 years

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Once you get this you have to say five things you like about yourself, publicly, and send it to 10 of you favourite followers (non-negotiable). SPREAD POSITIVITY! ♡ (from mythicalllamaxo)

@mythicalllamaxo

Thank you for this!! 🥺♥️♥️…. Damn I thought 5 things I love was hard. 5 things about me? This might take some time 💀

1) my sense of humour- I feel like it’s a big part of my personality. Growing up I was always kinda like ‘the class clown’ unintentionally but I just like being able to make people laugh. I like that it comes naturally without a thought, it gets me into trouble sometimes because I don’t think before I speak but it’s probably my favourite thing? Being able to see teachers, friends or even just seeing my mother go into a laughing fit because of something I’ve said, it never fails to put a smile on my face.

2) my determination- I’m not really determined often but when I am it’s a strong feeling. I’ve proven to myself that I can do anything when I’m determined and motivated to do it. I’m proud of myself for being able to achieve what I have achieved from that. I wish I had more of those outbursts but if I’m passionate about something or really want it, I make sure to put effort and time into achieving what I said I would achieve.

3) my hair?- probably the only good look I have going for me 💀

4) my creativeness- this is starting to get hard 😭 umm but I’d say I like that I can be creative sometimes. Whether it’s music wise or editing, not just fan edits but with my photography too. Sometimes I’ll see something and get sudden inspiration and I’ll have a whole idea of exactly what type of edit I want it to be.

5) my care for others?- I hope this actually counts even though I know nearly everyone has this attribute but I’m running out of things so let me be 💀. I like that I help whenever I can, when I’m out if I see someone struggling I try my best to help. Sure it takes some courage due to my anxiety but if no one else does it then who will. It’s not much but sometimes I help my neighbour carry her shopping up the hill, I go out looking for missing dogs if I know there’s a missing dog in my town, Or if I see an animal in need of care or help I’ll do whatever I can to help it and make sure it’s safe.

Hopefully these count! I’m not good at thinking about these types of stuff. Thank you again sending this my way! ☺️♥️♥️

#ask stuff #again thanks for the ask!

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eyesaremosaics · 4 years

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TRIGGER WARNING:

The past few days, I have been shocked, saddened and disgusted with an artist who I have admired since I was a child. I remember seeing the sweet dreams video when it came on MTV in 1995 when I was 6 years old. I remember being frightened, but mesmerized by him. I pretended to hate him whenever he would come on TV, and my dad would tease me: “oh, there you go it’s your boyfriend Megan.” I would shriek in disgust and say “no!” Secretly I would watch his music videos when no one else was home, there was a hypnotic quality to his voice...something that drew me in. I know many females my age can relate. I bought his albums in secret, and until I was 15 years old I had this very real fear that if my family found out I listened to Marilyn Manson—they would stop loving me. Which seems silly and absurd, I often laugh about that.

However, once high school hit, he became more gimmick and less rock and roll. More self aggrandizing and less of a nihilistic commentator on society. He was once a major influence to me, my style of art, expression and creativity. The women he dated became icon’s to me, something to be emulated. I became a vintage girl because of my interest in Dita Von Teese at age 14. I wore high heels to school, seamed stockings with a garter belt, dressed like a 1950s housewife. I was voted best dressed in my high school senior year (2006).

I never had a crush on him or anything, it wasn’t really like that, it was more like he was a person I looked up to. After his interview in bowling for Columbine, all his interviews, his book, tv appearances etc. he came across as a highly intelligent and creative person who challenged social norms and societal constructs. I appreciated his androgyny, and admired his fearlessness. I listened to his music a great deal in high school, and it got me through some very dark and angsty times.

As the years went on, it became apparent he was losing his edge. I loved Rose McGowan, she was one of the women I modeled myself after as a young person (next to Winona Ryder of course), and she always spoke highly of him, saying he was a good boyfriend, but the drugs were something she couldn’t hang with. When he was with Dita, I fell in love with her too, and found her to be just as cool and interesting.

When he cheated on Dita with Evan Rachel Wood I was devastated. I felt like my idol fell. The stand-up man I thought he was—wasn’t real, and I am ashamed to say I blamed Evan, vilifying her as some “scarlet woman” who destroyed what was (to me) the perfect marriage. Little did I know that this poor girl was suffering. In ways many of us can relate to, and many we can’t begin to understand.

A few girls that I follow on IG have come forward with graphic accounts of the abuse to which they were subjected by Brian Warner (aka Marilyn Manson), and it made me sick to my stomach. I mean... I wrote him off as a has been in 2007, but I still thought he was an ok person, I still respected him for the art he made that inspired me as a kid. Now I feel like a huge chunk of my childhood was a lie. All the things I thought he stood for were merely conjecture.

All this background was necessary to get to what I really wanted to say: this whole ordeal was very triggering for me as a survivor of narcissistic/sociopathic, sexual, emotional and physical abuse. I stand with these girls, because though I can only begin to imagine some of the things they have described in their testimony... other things I know all too well. In fact many of the situations these poor girls were violently subjected to, have happened to me as well. It actually broke me down in tears to read.

My heart goes out to the survivors, you are strong and beautiful. It takes YEARS to survive this type of abuse. I know because I am living proof. I have been in more than one relationship like this, which led me to have zero self esteem, resort to substance abuse, risky self-destructive behavior, attempted suicide etc. I have been in extensive therapy for these traumas for over five years now, and only in the last two, was I able to get a full sense of self back.

There is so much to say on this issue. I am proud of the girls who came forward, it takes an insane amount of bravery to call out your abuser publicly... I still haven’t had the courage to call out mine. However it gives me strength to know there is a movement of women empowering each other to break their silence and speak their truth.

I am disillusioned and sad about this person I used to think highly of, but it’s the same feeling you go through when leaving a narcissistic/sociopathic relationship. In my own situation... I left feeling like Marion Cotillard’s character in “inception”. The top forever spinning...Not knowing when I would wake up into the real world....Not knowing which was the real world, and which was a dream. Wanting to die, so you can finally wake up.

There are stages of grief that you go through, accepting that this person never cared about you, and saw you only as narcissistic supply, or as “food” for their ego. They see matters only as a means for power and control. They don’t feel things the way you or I do. It is in this that you should pull power from. You are not the one who is weak, it is they who are weak. They who lack the emotional depth or compassion to function as a normal human being. They will never know love, or real friendship—and you should feel sorry for them. What a terribly lonely and meaningless existence that must be. To be a parasite.

You ( the survivor) still have a chance for life, YOU will love again. It may feel like you will never reach the other side of it, through the panic attacks, the sleepless nights, the terrorizing anxiety, the bouts of crying, the humiliation, the silence, the nightmares—but you will. I learned a long time to let things build and not destroy me. To any of you reading this who may be able to relate: you can do it too.

I never thought I would survive my demons, I have a history of abuse that goes back to my childhood, which is why I am so protective of children now. It’s almost like I have made it my personal mission to assure that no child will ever be hurt the way I was, not on my watch.

Keeping your inner child alive is so crucial to survive the darkness of this world. We have to be the architect of our own reality, and rebuild a new world, a safe one to live in. One where a man can treat us with love and kindness. That doesn’t mean we should forget. We forgive the abusers not because they deserve forgiveness, but because we deserve peace.

I stand with all women out there living with this kind of abuse. Living with domestic violence. You are not alone. I hear you, I see you. There is a deeper systemic problem going on here enabling this kind of violence, and it Must. Be. Stopped.

#breakthesilence

#me #marilyn manson #break the silence

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hermionemonica · 4 years

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The Road to Us, and Everything in Between: Chapter 1

I have been working on this AU for over a year now, and I finally decided to share this with y’all on the occasion of reaching a new milestone (500 followers yayy!). I hope you all like this!

(This is a no magic AU. There is no existence of the Miraculous or the superheroes in this universe.)

Dedicated to @marshmeowllowmuffins who has been so excited about this for so long!

AO3 | Chapter 2

A winter night. A familiar chime on her phone.

Marinette unlocked her phone to find a text from her boyfriend of three years, Nathaniel.

"There’s something we need to talk about. It’s high time you know everything about me. Tomorrow. And please, Marinette, don’t misunderstand me."

The tone of the text carried an ominous message. What could Nathaniel be talking about? Did he not love her anymore? Did he want to break up with her? Was he dying? Marinette had the worst eight hours before class the next day, her mind endlessly playing all the worst scenarios over and over again. She couldn’t afford to lose Nate.

And even with all that overthinking, the truth turned out to be something she had not expected at all.

"I am gay," Nathaniel mumbled under his breath.

At that moment, Marinette was probably too shocked to actually process what her “boyfriend" had just said, and what exactly it implied. Her response to it was “It's okay! I still love you!"

"You don’t understand!" Nathaniel retorted, a mixture of embarrassment pain and irritation on his face. "I don’t love you, at least not the way you thought. I never will be able to!"

Nathaniel sat down, and Marinette followed suit. She was still in a state of utter confusion and shock, but she instinctively did what she always did whenever Nathaniel was in anguish. She took his hand into hers, as he told her about the person his heart belonged to. Marc Anciel. Whom Nate had called his "best friend", and who turned out to be "the love of his life".

Nathaniel wasn’t publicly out yet, and Marinette was the first person he had trusted with his secret. Not even Marc knew. Hell, Nate wasn’t even sure if Marc liked him the same way.

It was a totally different thing that every word uttered by Nathaniel was driving a knife through Marinette’s heart. What exactly was she supposed to feel right now? She kept quiet as Nathaniel went over every incident with precise detail, which left nothing much unclear. Except for one part. Unable to hold it in anymore, she blurted out "Then who am I to you?"

Nathaniel wasn’t quite able to meet her eye. But his voice was sincere when he said "You are my best friend, Marinette. Don’t get me wrong, I have always loved you, and I still do. Just not in the way you expected of me."

“How long have you known?” Marinette asked.

“Almost two years, actually,” Nathaniel replied in a low voice. “Please don't get angry that I hid it from you.”

‘Angry’ was not even close to what Marinette was feeling.

Nathaniel continued. “I didn't know at the time when we started dating. I wasn't very comfortable being close to you, but I guessed that was because it was my first relationship, and I was nervous. But time passed and I didn't even get the courage to kiss you. And then when I met Marc, I felt all those things that I was supposed to feel for you. There wasn't much left to figure out after that.”

Marinette took a deep breath. "So, what happens now? You, me, this relationship, where does this go next?"

"I leave that to you,” Nathaniel wrung his hands. “After everything, you deserve the right to decide for yourself. I promise I’ll be okay with whatever you decide. I trust you."

As if the revelation hadn’t been enough for her brain, now it was her responsibility to handle it. "I think I need some time." She stood up.

"Sure, let me know when you feel like," Nathaniel said, fearing the worst, and feeling defeated. "Just, keep this between us for now, please?"

Marinette turned to look at him. "Not even Marc?"

"Not even Marc."

"Alright. I’ll text you later."

After Marinette got home, she cried her heart out. Marinette had never been what they call homophobic, but it was one thing to support her friends like Juleka and Rose, and a whole other thing to have her own boyfriend come out to her as gay. No matter how much she pretended it was okay, she knew that this changed everything. Everything she had, or rather she thought she had, was a lie, was something that never was. Her first love, the person she had believed to have reciprocated her feelings, never even thought of her that way. All the stolen moments, holding hands, secret glances, cute messages – none of them meant anything. It was all a big lie. What was the truth then? What assurance was there that her entire life wasn't a lie?

Her thoughts flitted back to the beginning of her relationship with Nathaniel. How she had fallen in love with the shy kid who sat in the back of the class, drawing away in his sketchbook. She had been only fourteen years old at that time, and the red-haired boy had stolen her heart. She had never thought something could happen between them, because she was too shy. But Nathaniel had noticed her. And when he had asked her about it one day, the colour of his cheeks matching his hair, Marinette hadn't been able to deny. And just like that, they had started dating. In the beginning, they had tried to keep it a secret, because Nathaniel had been scared of all the gossip. But Marinette had been too obvious; they had managed to keep it hidden for no more than six weeks.

And then happened something that Marinette hadn't really been expecting. Everyone had warned her against Nathaniel. They had said he was “weird". Her friends had said that he was not the right guy. But Marinette had stood her ground. Yes, she had definitely ended up forging distances with her friends, but she had thought it was worth it. One time, she had punched a guy right in his face, because he had called her boyfriend a “fag". Nathaniel had texted her that night, saying how grateful he was that Marinette stood up for him, and how proud he was to have a girlfriend who trusted him.

It was around then that Marinette had begun to realise why Nathaniel was so shy and introverted; it was because of how everyone else would treat him. They would mock him because he had feminine tastes, and make fun of him because he did not indulge in the kind of things that the other boys did. Marinette's heart cried for the poor boy. She had decided that she would do anything to help him build back his confidence. So she had begun to encourage him to pursue what he was good at: art. Bit by bit, she had brought out the real Nathaniel. At first, he had opened up to her, showing her his sketches. Marinette had discovered that Nathaniel’s artistic abilities were very versatile. He could sketch and draw and paint. His subjects also varied largely, starting from portraits to landscapes to mythical creatures and superheroes to scenes from daily life. Nathaniel had also let her into his other talents, ones no one knew about. Like singing; Marinette had had no idea Nathaniel had such a sweet voice. One day he had offered to do her hair and makeup, and when he was done, Marinette had never felt more beautiful in her life. When Marinette had visited Nathaniel's home for a sleepover, he had made her such excellent pasta that she had wondered if it had been brought from some restaurant.

Gradually Nathaniel had begun to shine out. Marinette had encouraged him at every step of his life, and she had been there to see him evolve. And for this Nathaniel could never thank her enough. But Marinette would always say that Nathaniel's smile was the biggest gift for her.

Nathaniel had been very reserved with showing his affections. And Marinette never had a problem with that, because that made the rare moments even more special.

Sure, Nathaniel and Marinette's relationship was not like her other friends, but she loved what they had. And she loved him.

And now, it was all over. No, it had never existed. It was all a pretension. Nathaniel had never been in love with her. This was a make-believe game, only Marinette had mistaken it all to be real.

Now that she knew, it did seem to her that she should have figured it out sooner. After all, she had always known that Marc had a special place in Nathaniel's heart, maybe even above Marinette. But she had trusted Nathaniel too much. And besides, she had always felt it was wrong to think of it as anything else, when Nathaniel had himself insisted that they were “best friends". Well, what did it matter now? The ground was slipping away from under her feet, and there was nothing that could make it better.

She knew that she needed to get it together. She was not at liberty to talk to others about what had happened, nor was she ready to weave any more lies. The only way was to look and behave normally. Which meant she would have to pretend that everything was okay between herself and Nathaniel. She had never thought that this relationship would be a burden to her, but there it was.

Marinette stayed in her room all evening and thought it over. She loved Nathaniel, and she could not imagine her life without her. Nathaniel needed her, but he was not in love with her. Nobody could know what changed in their relationship in the past few hours. Taking all of it into consideration, it left only one option to her.

Marinette realised it would be difficult for her to talk to Nathaniel directly, at least for the moment. So, she wrote him a message.

“Nathaniel, I have loved you and I still do. You said you have loved me as well, just not in the way I did. I believe you. And I don't hate you, neither do I feel disgusted by you, nor pity you. Because this is who you are. I fell in love with the person, Nate, not the identity.

“I have come to a decision. I am not leaving you. I am not ready to face that or provide others with any explanation for that. I guess neither are you. So we have to keep on this pretension of a relationship, at least till both of us are ready. If you are okay with it, of course.

“I promise nothing will change between us. Except maybe my expectations. Now that I know and understand, you can trust me.

“You said I have been the best friend you've ever had. All I ask is that you let me continue to be your best friend.

“And lastly, thank you for trusting me. Thank you for believing that I am worthy of knowing. And thank you for having given me a chance.”

Nathaniel’s reply came in the form of a message too.

“Oh Marinette, I knew you would find a solution! What have I ever done that I found such an angel like you! You are so amazing Marinette, any guy would be lucky to have you. And yet, the person you chose to be with turned out to be someone who could never love you the way you deserve to be loved. I am sorry Marinette, I am sorry for all the pain I have caused you and am causing you even now. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, if not now then at least someday.”

“Never apologise for being who you are, Nathaniel,” Marinette would tell him, and Nathaniel would say that was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever told him.

Things slowly fell into place after that. Marinette made her peace with everything, convincing herself that no matter what, she could at least be around Nate, be a presence in his life. And their friendship just got stronger with the increased trust. They were happy. Marinette was happy. Almost.

If not for the gnawing thought in her mind that she had voluntarily given up her chance at happiness in order to pretend to be in a relationship with someone who would never love her that way. Yes, Nathaniel was a wonderful person and Marinette loved him so much. But it was so difficult to pretend, to lie to everyone, to hide the truth. As for Nathaniel though, he seemed so much happier. So carefree. Now that Marinette knew his secret, he had found someone he could share his innermost thoughts with. Marinette was glad she could bring happiness to the person she loved. Nate’s smile was the only thing that kept her going.

When they finished high school, Marinette obviously decided to pursue Fashion, while Nathaniel opted for Graphic Design. Naturally, they had to split their ways. But they made it a point to keep in contact. After all, they had grown too close to let go of each other so easily.

On her first day of university, Marinette received a surprise. She came to know that in the same university, in the Fashion Business department, studied the one and only Adrien Agreste!

Adrien Agreste was the son of Gabriel Agreste, the once-famous fashion designer. When Marinette was in high school, she had idolized Gabriel Agreste. But a few years ago, his secretary, Nathalie Sancouer, had revealed to the public that Mr Agreste was mentally unstable, and had physically and psychologically abused his son and his employees on multiple occasions. Several lawsuits and public scandals later, the Agreste fashion company had been removed from his hands, and he was taken into custody by the psychiatric unit. It was all over the news. Adrien was only seventeen years old when he became the CEO of Agreste Fashion. However, Miss Sancouer had decided to manage the company on behalf of Adrien, at least till he finished his studies and became qualified enough to take over the controls.

When Marinette was a young girl, she had had a celebrity crush on Adrien. It was hard not to, Adrien had been into modelling since early teenage, and he was understandably gorgeous. Marinette had been through a phase when she used to have posters of Adrien all over the walls of the room. But then, Nathaniel had come along and Marinette never had eyes for anyone else.

Marinette had been surprised to know that Adrien Agreste was studying in the same university as she was. Then again, it had been quite some time since the lawsuits, and Adrien was anything but a celebrity now. But that didn't stop her from gawking her eyes out when she first lay her eyes on Adrien. Marinette had always thought he was handsome, but now she saw that puberty had done wonders on him. No photos could ever do justice to how absolutely gorgeous he looked in real life, even without all the make-up or expensive clothes. Marinette couldn't help but be intimidated by him, and so she tried to look away whenever they crossed paths.

At first, Marinette didn't think it was a matter significant enough to tell Nathaniel. Adrien was just another student, someone Marinette had never even talked to. Nathaniel had never been very keen about fashion and modelling, and Marinette doubted if he knew about Adrien's life. She had never told him about her past celebrity crush, so there was that too. Nathaniel probably wouldn't think this was anything important. And after all, with their separate lives now, they couldn't talk about every single thing that happened in the little time they could make for each other. At least that was the justification she gave to herself.

The unexpected turn came one day when she saw Adrien sitting by himself on one of the benches near the sports compound. Her first instinct was to turn the other way round and run away, but something made her look closer. Adrien looked sad and at the same time, agitated. Marinette was already done with her classes for the day. The empathetic side of her took over her, and she went up to him.

“Is anything wrong?” she asked.

Adrien jumped up at her voice, as if he had not expected anyone to catch him there. Once he calmed down though, he was surprisingly willing to talk. It was almost as if all he was waiting for was someone to listen to him. He had a presentation due in the next period, he said, and he had accidentally ripped his jacket.

“It is my lucky jacket, and it, umm... has memories associated with it.”

Marinette would later learn that the jacket had been a gift to Adrien from his late mother.

“I don't have enough time to go home and change, and I don't know how to mend rips.” Adrien sounded really helpless.

“That's it?” Marinette asked incredulously, but immediately toned down, realising that it might come off as rude. “I can help you there.”

“Y-you would?” Adrien asked with disbelief, as if it was the strangest thing in the world to be offered help.

“I'm a Designs student, and being pretty clumsy myself, I am used to such situations.” Marinette offered, taking out her emergency sewing kit from her bag.

When Marinette was just about to begin the first sew, Adrien touched her hand to stop her. Reading his worries from his face, Marinette assured him, “Don't worry. I won't ruin it. The stitch won't even be visible, because I happen to have thread of the exact same colour as your jacket. Trust me.”

Adrien relaxed considerably on hearing that.

After the stitching was done, which took barely a few minutes, Marinette held it up for Adrien to see. Marinette had not expected to see such an expression of surprise on his face. Adrien had been associated with a fashion firm for all his life, surely a simple stitch couldn't be that impressive. But as it turned out, Adrien was hugely impressed.

“Thank you so much, you have no idea how much it means to me.”

Marinette felt her cheeks on fire. “It was my pleasure.”

And then, suddenly, Adrien looked awkward. “How-how much do I have to...” He stammered with his hands fidgeting in his pocket.

Marinette was aghast at the implication. “Oh, please no. Please don't even think about paying me or anything.”

“But...” Adrien objected.

Marinette smiled inwardly. Oh these rich people, she thought, used to paying for everything in money. Adrien certainly had a long way to go in social interaction still.

“Just think of this as a favour from a friend,” Marinette explained.

“A friend?” Adrien asked in a soft whisper, almost surprised.

Marinette couldn't fathom why a blush spread over his cheeks at that word. She flashed a grin at him. “I think so.”

“So, umm, do you think we can exchange phone numbers?” Adrien asked awkwardly. “No, no, don't get me wrong,” he continued hastily. “Not for any more favours! Just, you know, I haven't really had many friends before.”

“Well, you sure have one more now, Adrien,” Marinette replied with a smile, taking her phone out of her bag.

But when she looked at him, he was staring at her with a quizzical expression on his face. Seriously, had this guy never had a conversation before, that he had to react like this at everything she said?

Marinette stared right back at him, her eyebrows raised in question.

“You know my name?” asked Adrien. “But I don't think we've met before?”

Marinette couldn't hold back her laugh. Was he for real? “Who doesn't know you, Adrien Agreste?”

Adrien smiled at that, but Marinette didn't miss the shadow that passed over his features. Did she say something wr- Oh shit. He was thinking that Marinette knew him from the scandal, wasn’t he? Oh no, this poor boy, what was she going to say now?

“I-I mean, Miss Delacour isn't really that non-vocal about one of the most promising students she's ever seen, as she likes to put it,” Marinette managed as much of light-hearted sarcasm into that line as she could.

To her relief, Adrien visibly relaxed; he seemed to have bought it.

Marinette let out a breath discreetly, and handed her phone to Adrien so that he could type in his number. Adrien accepted it, and handed his own phone over for the same.

While returning his phone, Marinette said with a smile, “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, from the Designs department.”

Adrien's eyes lit up, as he squealed, “Oh I've heard about you! You're pretty much of a celebrity in your own line, you know?”

Marinette looked away to hide her blazing blush.

“Guess I'll see you around then?” asked Adrien, as he picked up his bag and turned to leave.

“Sure,” replied Marinette with a smile.

There could be no satisfactory explanation for why Marinette had refrained from telling Nathaniel about the conversation with Adrien. When Nathaniel asked her how her day had been, she intentionally left out the part when she had talked with Adrien and struck up a friendship with him. Why? Marinette had no answer to that.

Since that day, Adrien and Marinette had often run into each other in the corridors, and even had conversations in the cafeteria or in the common room during free periods. Although they weren't exceptionally close or anything, Adrien's face always lit up on seeing Marinette. Marinette, on the other hand, often felt her heart flutter when she talked to Adrien. Nathaniel, on the other hand, was unaware of this growing friendship. There was no reason why Marinette would hide such a trivial thing as a new friendship from her boy-er, best friend, given that they had got used to sharing every little thing, but even then, she couldn't bring herself to, for some unexplained reason. Although this baffled Marinette, she guessed it was for the better. That way, she could stop Nathaniel from teasing her about Adrien, and also, she wouldn’t have to lie to Adrien about her “boyfriend".

#miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #my fic #the road to us and everything in between #chapter 1 #no magic au #alternate universe - no powers #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #nathaniel kurtzberg #marc anciel #nathalie sancoeur #gabriel agreste #adrienette #multi chapter #slow burn

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richincolor · 4 years

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Voting and YA Lit

The November election is getting closer and closer. If you're eligible to vote and need more information, Vote.org is an excellent place to start. The League of Women Voters also has a First Time Voter Checklist that may be helpful. This year there may be additional challenges to voting, but if you are able, please let your voice be heard through your vote.

In the final two months before the election, you may enjoy some related reading. First, a few YA novels featuring elections or voting:

Yes No Maybe So by Becky Albertalli and Aisha Saeed Balzer + Bray [Group Discussion]

YES Jamie Goldberg is cool with volunteering for his local state senate candidate—as long as he’s behind the scenes. When it comes to speaking to strangers (or, let’s face it, speaking at all to almost anyone), Jamie’s a choke artist. There’s no way he’d ever knock on doors to ask people for their votes…until he meets Maya.

NO Maya Rehman’s having the worst Ramadan ever. Her best friend is too busy to hang out, her summer trip is canceled, and now her parents are separating. Why her mother thinks the solution to her problems is political canvassing—with some awkward dude she hardly knows—is beyond her.

MAYBE SO Going door to door isn’t exactly glamorous, but maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world. After all, the polls are getting closer—and so are Maya and Jamie. Mastering local activism is one thing. Navigating the cross-cultural romance of the century is another thing entirely.

The Voting Booth by Brandy Colbert Disney-Hyperion [Crystal's Review]

Marva Sheridan was born ready for this day. She’s always been driven to make a difference in the world, and what better way than to vote in her first election?

Duke Crenshaw is so done with this election. He just wants to get voting over with so he can prepare for his band’s first paying gig tonight.

Only problem? Duke can’t vote.

When Marva sees Duke turned away from their polling place, she takes it upon herself to make sure his vote is counted. She hasn’t spent months doorbelling and registering voters just to see someone denied their right. And that’s how their whirlwind day begins, rushing from precinct to precinct, cutting school, waiting in endless lines, turned away time and again, trying to do one simple thing: vote. They may have started out as strangers, but as Duke and Marva team up to beat a rigged system (and find Marva’s missing cat), it’s clear that there’s more to their connection than a shared mission for democracy.

Romantic and triumphant, The Voting Booth is proof that you can’t sit around waiting for the world to change, but some things are just meant to be.

Running by Natalia Sylvester Clarion Books

When fifteen-year-old Cuban American Mariana Ruiz’s father runs for president, Mari starts to see him with new eyes. A novel about waking up and standing up, and what happens when you stop seeing your dad as your hero—while the whole country is watching.

In this thoughtful, authentic, humorous, and gorgeously written novel about privacy, waking up, and speaking up, Senator Anthony Ruiz is running for president. Throughout his successful political career he has always had his daughter’s vote, but a presidential campaign brings a whole new level of scrutiny to sheltered fifteen-year-old Mariana and the rest of her Cuban American family, from a 60 Minutes–style tour of their house to tabloids doctoring photos and inventing scandals. As tensions rise within the Ruiz family, Mari begins to learn about the details of her father’s political positions, and she realizes that her father is not the man she thought he was.

But how do you find your voice when everyone’s watching? When it means disagreeing with your father—publicly? What do you do when your dad stops being your hero? Will Mari get a chance to confront her father? If she does, will she have the courage to seize it?

There are also a few YA nonfiction books that deal with activism and voting rights:

How I Resist edited by Maureen Johnson Wednesday Books

Now, more than ever, young people are motivated to make a difference in a world they're bound to inherit. They're ready to stand up and be heard - but with much to shout about, where they do they begin? What can I do? How can I help?

How I Resist is the response, and a way to start the conversation. To show readers that they are not helpless, and that anyone can be the change. A collection of essays, songs, illustrations, and interviews about activism and hope, How I Resist features an all-star group of contributors, including John Paul Brammer, Libba Bray, Lauren Duca, Modern Family's Jesse Tyler Ferguson and his husband Justin Mikita, Alex Gino, Hebh Jamal, Malinda Lo, Dylan Marron, Hamilton star Javier Muñoz, Rosie O'Donnell, Junauda Petrus, Jodi Picoult, Jason Reynolds, Karuna Riazi, Maya Rupert, Dana Schwartz, Dan Sinker, Ali Stroker, Jonny Sun (aka @jonnysun), Sabaa Tahir, Shaina Taub, Daniel Watts, Jennifer Weiner, Jacqueline Woodson, and more, all edited and compiled by New York Times bestselling author Maureen Johnson.

In How I Resist, readers will find hope and support through voices that are at turns personal, funny, irreverent, and instructive. Not just for a young adult audience, this incredibly impactful collection will appeal to readers of all ages who are feeling adrift and looking for guidance.

How I Resist is the kind of book people will be discussing for years to come and a staple on bookshelves for generations.

The March Trilogy by John Lewis, Andrew Aydin and Nate Powell Top Shelf Productions

A graphic novel memoir in three parts. It tells of the Civil Rights movement through the eyes of John Lewis. Readers see Lewis and other activists launching campaigns such as the Freedom Vote and Mississippi Freedom Summer. The books lead all the way through to the Selma March.

And finally, picture books aren't just for children. Here are two picture books young adults would likely appreciate:

The Voice of Freedom: Fannie Lou Hamer by Carole Boston Weatherford, illustrated by Ekua Holmes Candlewick Press

A stirring collection of poems and spirituals, accompanied by stunning collage illustrations, recollects the life of Fannie Lou Hamer, a champion of equal voting rights.

"I am sick and tired of being sick and tired."

Despite fierce prejudice and abuse, even being beaten to within an inch of her life, Fannie Lou Hamer was a champion of civil rights from the 1950s until her death in 1977. Integral to the Freedom Summer of 1964, Ms. Hamer gave a speech at the Democratic National Convention that, despite President Johnson’s interference, aired on national TV news and spurred the nation to support the Freedom Democrats. Featuring luminous mixed-media art both vibrant and full of intricate detail, Singing for Freedom celebrates Fannie Lou Hamer’s life and legacy with an inspiring message of hope, determination, and strength.

Granddaddy's Turn: A Journey to the Ballot Box by Michael S. Bandy & Eric Stein, illustrated by James Ransome Candlewick Press

Based on the true story of one family’s struggle for voting rights in the Civil Rights–era South, this moving tale shines an emotional spotlight on a dark facet of U.S. history.

Life on the farm with Granddaddy is full of hard work, but despite all the chores, Granddaddy always makes time for play, especially fishing trips. Even when there isn’t a bite to catch, he reminds young Michael that it takes patience to get what’s coming to you. One morning, when Granddaddy heads into town in his fancy suit, Michael knows that something very special must be happening—and sure enough, everyone is lined up at the town hall! For the very first time, Granddaddy is allowed to vote, and he couldn’t be more proud. But can Michael be patient when it seems that justice just can’t come soon enough? This powerful and touching true-life story shares one boy’s perspective of growing up in the segregated South, while beautiful illustrations depict the rural setting in tender detail.

#voting #election #YA Lit

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soggybensolo · 5 years

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Amazed

Request: “Shes 1000 percent opposite from him. She’s from the light side and He set an arranged marriage for them Because he fell in love with her. She gives birth to their baby boy and he is amazed!”

- @80s90steen

Pairing: Kylo Ren x Wife!Reader

WARNING: NONE. HAPPY KYLO.

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: WOW- it has been three years since I sat down to properly write. this was something brand new I whipped up for you. I'm so used to digging through my crusty dusty drive and just posting old content I deleted or was just too coward to post the first time around. I had so much fun writing this and it just flowed out of me! I was inspired by all the new star wars and wanted to pay tribute to galaxy’s edge. also, I named the reader's sister just so it was easier.

_____

She was a senator’s daughter and sister to their newly-elected queen. If you asked her she was a nobody but to the people of Naboo she was their unofficial humanitarian. Always promoting good health and giving away all that she had. Where help was needed she was always there to aid. No matter the cost or the work- she was there. She helped build schools and reclaimed water systems.

She would visit other planets and spend her good fortune there. She was blessed with wealth and never had to worry about her next meal. Because of this, she gave back to the galaxy.

On the far part of the outer rim was a planet named Batuu. It was once a thriving place of beauty but turned forgotten and ran down. Many life forms still inhabited the planet and many of them were in debt. Any credits earned at the black spire outpost was cut into more than half and placed into the pockets of Oga Garra. she was intimidating, cruel, and greedy. (y/n) was there to negotiate and help liberate the debt of the poor Batuuans.

The first order had been there for a few weeks and their supreme leader had an eye on her. Her generosity had not gone unnoticed.

Kylo stood in the market watching her closely. She had a basket of Batuu buns on her hip. Her dress was a pale blue, feet bare, and her hair was free and flowing in the summer breeze of Batuu.

“Bright suns, would you care for a bun, sir?” she smiled offering him a freshly baked good.

He looked down. (y/n) was small in proportion to him. “Where are your shoes?”

“Oh! An off-planet travel needed them more to me.” laughing humbly she placed the bun back into her basket. “She apparently lost them in a sabacc match back at Oga’s cantina.”

“How kind of you-” he scoffed “-Now care to tell me what it is you are doing?”

(y/n)’s smile grew wider and she rolled her eyes playfully. “You’ve had me arrested and interrogated several times throughout my stay. You have a copy of my identification as well as a sample of my blood for your records. Every time you do this I come back clean and with no ties to the resistance.”

“Every do-gooder is associated with them somehow and the moment I found out how it is you fit in I will have you arrested once more- and this time for good,” he warned.

“I’m starting to think you’re using this whole resistance thing as an excuse to talk to me.”

If not for his helmet, Kylos flushed cheeks would have been on display.

But she was right. Any chance he had to follow her, he would. Any chance he had to speak with her, he would. When it had come time for her to unsuccessfully part with Batuu he followed her back to Naboo. Though he swore it was for business, he only ever spent time with her. They would spend most of their time together wandering the endless rose gardens and chasing one another around the royal library. When it was dark enough out the couple would count stars. She taught him how to dance elegantly and which fork to start out with at an important dinner.

While he was harsh and rough around the edges, he couldn’t help but fall for her. She was everything. Everything about her had him amazed. She was fair, kind, funny and most importantly loveable. Maker, how he loved her. He wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his days with her.

When he finally got the courage to ask for her hand in marriage he played it off as an advantage for Naboo and made it seemed arranged, but she knew deep in her heart it was all for love. Their wedding was grand and traditional. Though not a single soul approved of the courtship and not many chose to attend their wedding she was not ashamed of the man she loved. (y/n) wanted all of Naboo and all of the Galaxy to know that she loved Kylo Ren, Master of the Knights of Ren, and Supreme Leader of the first order.

“I’m sorry for not being at your wedding, little sister… but I have an image to uphold” Queen Giada sighed.

(y/n) packed her final bag and handed it to her lady in waiting. “I am too. I love who I love and will not apologize to anyone for it.”

“I know- I wasn’t asking you to.” her sister swallowed the melancholy lump in her throat. “You’re more than welcome to come back for harvest and for life day. He just can’t come with you.”

(y/n) stared out the window silently praying for the strength to stay composed. Not soon after her wedding to Kylo was she asked to leave Naboo. In exchange for her not being banished, she was granted emancipation and changed her surname to Ren. no longer was she part of the royal house of Naboo. Her trial was heavy and not a single eye was dry. Her father and mother stayed silent and her sister publicly disowned her but in privet, she didn’t let her go.

“The holidays are meant to be spent with your family, and Kylo is my Family. If he is not welcomed, then I am not welcomed.”

Giada dropped to the now vacant bed. “Is this how it has to be?”

“You are Queen first and my sister second.”

Though (y/n) never let it show Kylo knew it was hard for his new bride. She was so confident and proud of her decision that she never let a tear slip in front of him, but he knew.

Four years into their marriage, several false negatives, and two miscarriages later- (y/n) was finally pregnant. They were going to have a family of their own. Kylo was nervous and scared but had to remember it was him who asked for a baby.

“Did he just move!?” He gasped pulling his hand away from her stomach.

“Yes. wanna feel again?”

“No- wait- yes- no-” He hesitated repeatedly moving his hand closer and then away. “Yes. Wait, wait, wait- ok yes!”

(y/n) laughed placing both of his hands on her bump. “That’s crazy, huh? How he just moves like that?”

“It feels weird!”

“Imagine that but inside of you.”

She was glowing in every trimester. Pregnancy looked good on her. When it was finally time for her to deliver Kylo reached out to Naboo and asked for a place of haven where their son could be born and claim native to the planet. When he received a response he was angry. “She and her son may step foot on our planet’s soil but you may not.”

Infuriated and hopefully (y/n) settled her heart on Chandrial. Homeworld of Kylo Ren. the two went in secret, careful not to alert any locals of their arrival. It was a long labor but in the end a rewarding one. He was in all. Amazed by his wife. She had brought life into the world. his son, Kingston Ren.

#kylo ren x you #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren #kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren imagine #kylo x you #kylo x reader #ben solo x reader #ben solo x y/n #ben solo x you #ben solo #adam driver x reader

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my-never-ending-nightmare · 3 years

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12/03/2021

*This’ll be a long & bumpy one so buckle up folks. Sorry for giving ya’ll another mess to scroll past. Hopefully I can bury it with more posts soon enough lol*

Early last month when I had dug myself a deep hole of misery & despair and then pathetically jumped right in, I had written something here about how I had felt “used” by somebody after a relationship that meant a lot to me came to a rather sudden & depressing end. And that post is a great example of the fact that I’m not proud of everything that I write. But, what I am proud of is having the courage to take ownership of my thoughts by keeping them all publicly posted here. It makes me feel like I’m holding myself accountable for my thoughts, words & resulting actions. I’d much rather that than just deleting the shit I regret and pretending it never happened. Because this way I either have to stand by what I wrote, or, when what I wrote is wrong/counterproductive/stupid then I have the obligation to figure out why and then change my thought processes accordingly. Otherwise I’ll be doomed to be repeating the same mistakes over & over again 'till the day I die.

That being said, what an embarrassingly cringe-worthy month November was ‘round here lol. I’m really glad I had the mental wherewithal, however, to admit in that aforementioned post that I was: A) going through alcohol withdrawal on top of what was essentially a bad breakup & thus not thinking clearly, and B) that I didn’t know all the facts surrounding said breakup and thus everything I was feeling and thinking was based entirely off assumptions & speculation. I think the way I worded it at the time was that I felt like I was trying to put a puzzle together but only had half the pieces and was thus unable to see the complete picture. All I knew for sure is that I was hurting. Bad. And I was looking for someone or something to blame. Which, ultimately, ended up being myself.

It’s occurred to me now what has been tormenting me - this absolutely soul crushing feeling I’ve had – It isn’t just heartache. It’s guilt, shame & remorse. Because ultimately I promised the best friend I’ve ever had that I was better – and I really thought I was, too – but I wasn’t. I had my chance at sobriety at the start of this year, and I fucked it up in April when I got some pretty devastating & scary news. Because that’s the thing about using alcohol as a crutch to get through life: you’ll find that you can’t stand on your own two feet without it once life gives you a hard knock. I thought I had it under control, and perhaps in some ways I did since I was drinking so very little up until that relationship ended. But I hadn’t eliminated it from my life entirely - so when life came swinging at me you know what I fell back on.

Therefore it was irresponsible for me to have allowed that relationship to develop again in the first place. No matter how much this person may have wanted or tried to talk to me, I owed it to myself & her to do the right thing and continue to refrain from contact with her until I truly was better and circumstances were different. And by better, I mean sober. So it was irresponsible of me to even talk with this person at all, but it was completely reckless of me to have gotten as close to her as I did. Nothing good could have come from it at that time, & ultimately nothing did. And I should have known that.

But what really kills me inside is knowing that I didn’t just fail to keep a promise – I straightup lied to this persons face. Once things began to crumble and I dove right back into the bottle I started to lie in order to hide it. And what’s even more fucked up then the fact that I lied to somebody I love is the fact that at the time I had fed myself so much bullshit that I legitimately believed in those moments that I was doing this person a favor by deceiving them. Because, in some twisted logic, I felt that I was somehow keeping my promise to them that I was better by hiding it from them when I got unwell again. When in reality all I was doing is betraying the trust of the best friend I’ve ever had. Trust which, I might had, she placed in me despite her having every reason in the world not to do so. I really felt I was just hiding something deeply personal that I no longer thought was any of said persons business, but all I really did was cause heartache to somebody I love by betraying all of the good faith they placed in me. That fact haunts me. And I know I’ll never be able to say anything to make things better because when trust is broken then “sorry”means nothing.

There’s this older gent’ I met earlier this year that has offered me a lot of really great advice since then. Same guy who told me the analogy of your life being a book, for anyone keeping track of these journal entries lol. I reached out to him to try to explain all these thoughts & feelings as well as get some much needed advice and what he told me was this: You’re a really smart guy. And I don’t say that to stroke your ego, but because the biggest lies are the ones we tell ourselves. Everyone spins their own web of bullshit to justify & rationalize their behavior & choices. But you’re a lot more clever than most people, so your web was far more big & complex than most peoples. So you can’t blame yourself for getting stuck in it. What you need to do is focus on getting yourself out, then discovering what led you to spin that web in the first place.

Well goddamn, was I ever right in thinking it would be a good idea to talk to him lol.

So what I ought to be searching for now is forgiveness. Not from others. But from myself. I need to atone for my sins by making sure I’m never that person again. And the only way I can do that is by never drinking again. If I can be the man I know I’m capable of being rather than the person I allowed myself to become then I can at least make things right in my own mind & heart. Even if I can’t make things right with the person I miss the most.

And to bring things full circle, that post early last month in which I described feeling “used” was just a subconscious attempt to blame this person and obfuscate my own guilt rather than facing it head on. Not that I didn’t have any reason to feel that way, per se, but rather that it ultimately doesn’t matter one way or another. And what I mean by that is this: what hurt the most about the end of that relationship prior to me sobering up was the fact that she started seeing another dude within 2 weeks of ending things with me. That stung. A lot. Because, to me, it showed that she was never really serious or committed to our relationship. Or, if she was, this new guy must have been one hell of a catch for her to have moved on so quickly lol. Hell, maybe it was even my fault because I failed to show her how much she meant to me. Regardless, if the initial end of the relationship was the injury, then just how quickly she was ready for another one with someone else was the twisting of the knife. The salt in the wound. The shattering of my heart.

It left me feeling like I had just been a rebound from this persons ex, and a distraction from the person they are hopelessly in love with plus a way to fill the time while she waits for the next guy she’s ready to be serious about. And, to be honest, I think part of me resented this person for having been the one to rekindle our friendship before ultimately moving it beyond friendship. Because she knew how much I valued our friendship, yet she wanted our relationship to be more serious than that without actually being serious about me. If that makes any sense. Like, once intimacy became involved it was really too late to just be friends. Which is what I miss the most: just having that particular friend in my life.

What I’m getting at is this: when I erroneously claimed I had been used I was really just bitching & moaning in an attempt to distract myself from what the real problem was: me.

And, furthermore, I don’t even know how serious their relationship was, is, or will be. And it doesn’t change anything either way. Because ultimately all I can do is mourn what once was, regret how careless I was with our time together, kick myself for having been so naïve, & atone for my guilt over having lied to her by being a better person.

So, to begin to wrap this up, what a god awful month November was lol. I’m glad it’s over, and even more glad that December has gone off to a much better start. Last month began with me in a very dark, unhealthy mental space that I had allowed myself to occupy. And while I was down in that pit of despair that I had dug for myself I could only see one way out – I wanted something, or more specifically someone, to pull me out. I didn’t have the courage to climb out myself because at the time I could only envision one future for myself. Or, at least, only one future I wanted to live. And seeing that future disappear was devastating and made me fall back on my old crutch: alcohol. And while I was busy numbing my pain & running from my problems instead of overcoming them I became something I hate – a helpless victim of his own choices.

And the thing about addiction and especially lying to those you love is that it fills you with shame & guilt which, in turn, causes you to lose self-respect. And then, in my case at least, that guilt morphs into hatred. Self-hatred. I was angry, but I was angry at myself. And all that anger & hatred begun to seep into the very core of my soul and then expressed itself in all that I did and said. It made me ugly. So I have a duty to myself and an obligation to those that love me to expel all that negativity from my brain like the toxin that it is so that I can be the best version of myself I can be.

Happiness is a choice.

I just wish it didn’t have to take all of this for me to realize what was fundamentally broken about me or how I can fix it. Above all I wish that I could have ended things on a good note & without any hard feelings between me and the person who my heart will always belong to. But it’s too late for that now, I suppose. Though I often find myself daydreaming about just having the chance to talk again. Just talk. About everything & nothing for hours on end like we used to. To reuse that puzzle analogy, I feel like I'm missing so many pieces that only this particular person has. And so I’ll never be able to see the full picture unless this person is ever generous enough to share them with me. Which I doubt will ever happen. Because they have absolutely no reason to do so.

But still, I wonder what that would be like. To just have one of those late night drives again. A chance to express how sorry I am and how I understand now what I didn’t understand back then: that I couldn’t expect a healthy, functional relationship with somebody else when I didn’t have one with myself. Now that I have the benefit of hindsight & sobriety I just can’t help but wonder what that conversation would be like.

But I guess I may just always have to wonder.

Because I don't feel like I deserve that conversation, and I know that what’s done is done. I may never have the full picture of what transpired or why, but life goes on regardless.

And so will I.

#blog #journal

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bumbershots · 4 years

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A CERTAIN ROMANCE

CHAPTER FOUR: SILENCE COMES AND GOES

Author’s note: Hello! We continue with this, I would like to thank everyone once again for all the likes and reblogs the story has gotten so far, couldn’t be happier! Enjoy (:

Story masterlist ** Word count: 2.9K **

It is possible that Harry is ignoring the big elephant in the room, as he spreads some jam in his crumpet, well aware of Fernando and Jack exchanging knowing looks. He takes a bite of the savoury treat and hopes none of them dare to confront him, at the same time he wants to be questioned about why he hasn't called Alma yet.

Harry spent the last two weeks grumpy and frustrated.

He's called his therapist way too many times. He has no idea where he went wrong in his healing process. They were back to square one, whispered his tired heart.

Jack is surprised too, his friend got on so well with Alma at the party and apparently even went the extra mile asking for her number then he spent the following fourteen days acting as if she didn’t exist. Didn't even text her like Gemma suggested. He sips his coffee and sighs for the millionth time that day.

The musician is infuriated at himself and desperate that he wants to have Fernando demand an explanation for his behaviour towards his sister. Harry's not a confrontational guy, but he's going mad. Might be losing it. He wanted to scream at the two men before him that he did plan on calling Alma, but then he got so sad. Now he's afraid it's too late.

"Do you want another one?" Fernando holds the plate with crumpets in front of Harry who takes one more and thanks him before grabbing the jam. "Do you reckon you'll be man enough to call my sister within the next couple of days?" Harry chokes on his food while Jack's laughter booms through their home.

Nobody has ever called him out like that. Harry's still unsure whether to be grateful or scared. Maybe a bit of both he thinks after composing himself again from the fit of coughs, he knows Fernando is still waiting for an answer.

"Is she upset about it?" A hint of relief and pride linger on Harry's voice. Jack shakes his head, knowing that he's avoiding the question. Something he's very good at.

"That's not what I asked." Fernando's clipped tone leaves no room for the musician to beat around the bush anymore.

"I was really nervous about calling her, kept putting it off until days turned into weeks... I'm not sure how to go about it," he plays with his rings and looks away from the inquisitive gaze of his companions.

"How did you get Taylor to go out with you?"

"What?" Harry and Jack ask at the same time.

"You must've asked her I guess," Fernando shrugs. "What is so scary about Alma that puts you off? Are you interested in just a shag and you're worried she'll decline or tell the media about it?" Harry is shaking his head vigorously and the dark haired architect leans a bit closer towards him, "you're so full of sh-”

"Alright let's take a break," Jack's soothing tone brings his house mate back from the rage path he was following. But Harry knew that he was right.

It had been a year already, he moved to a new house, one where his ex never set foot into and still her ghost was everywhere. He has this crazy need to destroy everything that can relate to her. Her favourite cardigan is kept away in a box full of Polaroids and books that are all her.

The real reason why he didn't dare to call Alma is because whatever he felt at the beginning of his previous relationship, or any other one, was at least ten times less intense, than what he was feeling now. Seeing the menace before them, his heart and mind decided to leave him courage-less towards the situation. It's less painful to think what could've been than to know it and see it being taken away from you. Again.

But he deserves to be happy, that's what Gemma reminded him the other day.

"I gotta go," Fernando announces before rising from his seat, walking inside the house and upstairs to his room. Jack tries to tidy up the table a bit, not daring to look at his apparently mute friend. When Fernando comes back down he steps outside to the patio where they had brunch, one last glance to a very ashamed Harry and he sighs. "Brigit's Bakery Classic Afternoon Tea Bus. Alma’s been dying to get tickets but never has the time to actually book it," he explains adjusting his jacket's collar. "It's not too late." With that he turns on his heel and leaves the house.

Harry takes their mugs and places them in the sink, he notices Jack is going around the kitchen putting away the butter and milk in the fridge.

"What are you waiting for Romeo?" The blue eyed man asks, stopping in front of a blushing Harry.

They're both quiet for a minute. Harry's heart is racing and can feel his hands get clammy. He hasn't felt someone's faith in a long time, and he's not sure if he's happy or pressured that Fernando and Jack are pushing him to call Alma, he doesn’t even know if she will give him a chance. Harry's wishing to be the kind of guy to take out his mobile and make the call, maybe even crack a witty joke that will have Alma laughing in that loud way he remembers and not be awkward with asking her out on a date. As if he wasn't completely mortified by being rejected.

Harry was sure he would ruin it, not just the call but the date and everything else that was actually going to happen between them without even trying first.

"Hello?" She answers after the third ring, confused at the unknown number calling her.

"Yeah it's me," Harry nods to Jack who urges him to finish whatever sentence he's trying to form, "I believe I owe you some coffee."

"Harry?" Alma tries to fight back a laugh. A wide smile splitting her face after recognising who is the mystery caller.

"Yes! Sorry I forgot you didn't have my number." Jack is red with second hand embarrassment for his friend and decides to start the dishwasher just to keep his eyes from the train wreck happening in his kitchen. "I'm sorry for not calling sooner."

"You're calling now, 's all that matters... I'd love to get that coffee. Next Thursday works for you?" He nods feverishly and remembers he's on the phone.

"Of course, I'll pick you up at five if that's alright."

"Make it half past five please, that's when my shift ends. I'll text you the address." She throws the latter smoothly as an excuse to initiate conversation until they meet again and Harry is oblivious about it.

"Sure great, perfect I'm... really looking forward to seeing you," he plays with the tea towel on the counter, his back turned to Jack, a million butterflies fluttering in his stomach when he hears the coy chuckle his confession got out of her. "Have a good day, see you later."

"See you later, Harry" Alma's goodbye is full of hope and endearment, just like the one he got before she walked away from him that morning after Freddie’s birthday party.

After ending the call, he mentally scolds himself for dreading it so much. It went so much better than expected, even got a laugh out of her. Perhaps Harry needed to stop making decisions based upon his fears and more taking in consideration the other person. He always thought he knew best, it's what he's been told for so many years and although he needs to be making big choices most of the time, perhaps now he could share that responsibility. Felt dead nice for a change.

"That wasn't so bad." He admits to Jack before drying the now clean dishes with a towel.

"I'm proud of you, now tell me, where are you guys going for that coffee?" Jack's eyes are full of curiosity and excitement, it's impossible for Harry not to feel a chill go down his spine at the prospect of planning the date. He thinks about what Fernando suggested, but it would be too obvious that it wasn't his idea entirely.

Alma deserves something exclusively planned by him.

"Don't know yet, perhaps somewhere nice and quiet" he ponders and his friend agrees.

Last time Harry had a proper first date was about two years ago or so. He cooked aubergine parmigiana following Jamie Oliver's recipe and baked some biscuits for dessert that he enjoyed with his companion overlooking the Pacific Ocean from his home's balcony. Back then it seemed to be the right choice to keep it low-key, a simple dinner at his, no risk at all to be bothered or watched. But Harry knew that at some point it got old, being overly discreet was easily mistaken for being ashamed of the relationship. That kind of thing can do a lot to someone's confidence, little by little until it's all too much to bear.

If he could only learn not to care about the world's prying eyes.

Harry doesn't want to drag anyone into the scrutiny of the media until he knows it's an incorruptible bond. The inevitable thought of forever, something he believes might not exist for him, at times. He did think Taylor was it, even Kendall for a while, which is why he dated more publicly back then, until she came along and the love Harry felt was so grand it made him overly protective of them. Countless times he tried to explain that this was the first time something was working in spite of all the circumstances that came with his life and he was trying to cherish it, keep it to himself. Nurture it until it was as tough as old boots.

That night was spent writing down ideas for that first date. Number one was The river café, near Putney Bridge, a place free of paparazzi. Number two, Rail house café, lovely spot to share dinner. Number three The sanctuary café, located in a beautiful building with a quirky environment. Number four and his personal favourite Lola's bakery, their service was so warm and intimate, he remembers the cinnamon Chelsea bun and his mouth waters instantly. So, drawing a big circle around the fourth option he smiles before going to bed that night.

Saturday morning finds Harry at his grandparents’ old home, carrying a bag full of ingredients for a vegetarian lasagna he is planning to cook for his grandfather and his mum. He immediately banishes Anne from helping in the kitchen. She observed him follow the recipe, cooking for no longer than ten minutes the garlic, thyme and aubergine, and then crumble over the chilli carefully. He lets her grate the Parmesan when the sauce isn’t thickening and reducing like it was supposed to. With a bump of her hip, she nodded towards a couple of tomatoes, Harry smiled before tipping them in, breaking them with a spoon and five minutes later, the sauce was ready.

His mother is a marvellous woman, like the good son he is, Harry doesn't want to make her sad, ever. The last time he visited her, recently broken hearted, they spent it baking, cooking, eating sweets and drinking hot chocolate at the rear terrace. Once he had enough of moping around, he decided to make it up to her and create good memories from that visit. They explored the local parklands as if it was the first time, shared ice cream, got tipsy on cheap red wine and chatted from dusk till dawn.

A few hours later, after eating the delicious meal and tidying up the kitchen afterwards, Harry watches his mum talking to his grandad, holding his shaky hand in hers and caressing it in a soothing way. The elder man’s Parkinson is getting worse with time, he feels so useless, specially because it affects his favourite people. He wants to know what his mother is thinking when she joins him back in the kitchen. There is some anguish dancing in her kind eyes, but Harry knows better than to push her to share something she is not ready to.

"I have a date next Thursday," he chokes out, in hopes of distracting her, and it works. Anne's head whips towards her youngest child, evidently shocked and yet proud. It's been years since Harry shared that kind of information with her.

"A proper date?"

"Yes," he wants to add how nervous it makes him. "I dunno how serious it'll get... just met her once, properly I mean, we saw each other on the tube's carriage three times prior to it. Coincidentally of course, Gem said it is something straight out of a film."

"Who is she?" His mother is giving him that look, the one that says how giddy she is to know absolutely everything about the person that got her son so skittish, that he started to rearrange the containing of the cupboards entirely.

"Her name is Alma," he doesn't know where to start, if he spills all the ways in which he thinks she is wonderful, they'll end up pulling an all-nighter.

"And she's a...?"

"Cashier during the week, Spanish teacher on the weekends and occasional interviewer for her Youtube channel." Anne raises her eyebrows, impressed and wondering why such a busy girl agreed to go on a date. Must like him a lot of course, she thinks watching her son pour hot water on a mug, and dunking a tea bag in it afterwards.

"Where did you meet her if not on the tube?'' She is curious and weary. This wouldn't be the first time her youngest spawn overlooked certain things from strangers. Very little things in Harry's life were coincidences nowadays.

"Remember Jack Robinson?" his mum nodded, how could she forget the cheeky chap that helped Harry escape almost every night from his dad's house in the summer, just to go skate in Southbank's center until midnight. Anne admitted to not liking the bloke for a while, but gave him another chance after watching him grow into a responsible adult. "He's in charge of my home renovation, extension whatever it is called. Invited me to Freddie's birthday party and she was there." The dreamy look on his eyes when reminiscing the moment brought out a wide smile on his mum's face followed by her loud laughter.

"Oh Harry, you've got that look." it was the truth. He looked completely gobsmacked by his mother's reaction, but he couldn’t deny the peace he felt when knowing that she was already fond of the girl that he couldn’t get out of his mind.

"It’s too soon to tell!” He doesn’t want to dive into it, not yet.

"How did you really meet? I want all the details." Anne asked, taking a seat at the coffee table and Harry told her everything.

From the first glance he stole her way to the last phone call he had yesterday at Jack and Fernando's house, his hands flew several times to tussle his hair and the dimple on his left cheek was exquisite, when telling his mother, how she asked him to dance with her. He spared no detail, from her intoxicating Moschino perfume to her raspy accented voice. By the time he finished, his mum's mug was empty but her heart was full. For so long she wondered if she would ever witness the beauty of Harry in love again and enjoy first-hand the way he spoke about that person in the sweetest manner, the high-pitched tone of his voice when finally admitting how nervous he actually was about this first date.

"Right, well in that case, stop thinking about how everything is going to go wrong." Easier said than done, Harry thinks but nods. "I'm sure whatever you planned will sweep her off her feet." Anne knew how much of a romantic her boy was, he went all out in that department. His best quality and Achilles heel.

"If the cupcakes from that place don't... I could literally do it." Harry plucks a banana from the fruit bowl before them and narrows his eyes when his mum rolls her eyes at him playfully.

His mother's reassurance made him feel less hopeless, the next day when they went to Sheffield's city center, she even picked out a couple of new mugs. 'Just in case we have new visitors at home.' Harry groaned but failed to hide the dreamy look in his eyes, he even crossed his fingers behind his back as he watched her pay for the cups. The thought of Alma meeting his mother in the near future —and the rest of his loved ones— excited him to an unfamiliar degree, like the first time he saw the seaside with his own eyes at a very young age, like that time he sang in front of a considerable amount of people, like a warm hug of his late grandmother. The idea that she may like him enough to agree to a second date is stuck on his brain, despite that they haven't even survived the first one.

Anne saw him enjoy himself the rest of that afternoon and the next morning before he had to go back to London. She sighed and watched him drive away, standing in her front door for a few more minutes, rejoicing on the memory of Harry's toothy grin. Usually she was careful and waiting for the other shoe to drop, but not this time. There was a bit of certainty in the unfamiliar situation, something she couldn't quite put her finger on, she decided to patiently wait and see. She hummed a familiar tune while putting away the new additions to her crockery. The same song her son decided to play on his journey back home.

Qué será, será. Whatever will be, will be. The future's not ours to see. Qué será, será.

///

Let me know if you like the story! *** Join the taglist!

///

TAG LIST: @laurxn-robinson @mellamolayla

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#harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles ou #harry styles series #harry styles oc #harry styles fan fic #a certain romance

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lgcjiho · 4 years

Text

🥳

WOW. HAPPY ONE YEAR LGCJIHO! (and happy birthday to wooseok irl too!!!) 🥳🥳🥳 i wasn’t sure if i would finish this in time to post for his anniversary, but i’m happy i did! this is a STUPIDLY LONG update post so don’t worry about reading it or anything, i just wanted to have smth to look back on! also thank u everyone who wrote w me in the past year and i hope to write with everyone i haven’t yet!!

and i made a link for his public profile with everything that he’s been in publicly (so far)

MUSE

NAME — LEE JIHO (이지호)

SIGNED — JAN 2018

CURRENT INTERESTS

MUSIC — old heize and dean songs

YOUTUBE — cooking tree videos (this and other videos)

FOOD — he’s craving the creme brulee he tried in paris, and is settling for making homemade chocolate mousse

DRINK — yuja tea because it’s getting colder

CLOTHES — the hoodie eunho lent him at the beginning of the project origin tour (because he had been scared of the flight) that he’s never going to give back

IMPORTANT DATES

MARCH — WHITE DAY PERFORMANCE (AS LEADER OF HIS OWN TEAM)

JULY 13 — DEBUT WITH LEGACY BOYS

JULY — PROJECT: ORIGIN MUSICAL TOUR

JULY — CRAM SCHOOL CAMEO

AUG TO SEPT — PROJECT ORIGIN WORLD TOUR

AUG 4 — SOLO STAGE IN SEOUL

OCT 24 — 🦊🥰

CAREER

he’s still surprised that he was chosen to debut in lgc boys and he’s genuinely shocked that he’s been doing pretty well with the schedules

during the preparations for debut, he had gotten the chance to write his own lyrics and he’s genuinely unsure about how to feel about that, though he wants to branch out more one day if possible and try writing a song

the constant practice and being scrutinized by the gp is tiring but he thinks that he wouldn’t mind doing this for the rest of his life because of the constant support from the fans

had the chance to feature in a solo song recently and he’s waiting (im)patiently for it to be released so he can tell all of his friends

PERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS

his relationship with his parents seems to still be pretty decent, considering he still tells his mom everything that he can but he hasn’t spoken to his dad in a while. his dad had never really been the most supportive of either of his dreams, and his mom hadn’t been the best about it either but she had started to talk to him again when she realized this was something he actually wanted to do. he hopes to get to this stage with his dad one day

ofc we can’t talk about jiho’s relationships without mentioning @lgceunho — it’s funny that they really did start off as FULLY PLATONIC roommates and now they’re [shy shy shy] struggling to deal with their feelings. originally, jiho wasn’t planning on ever even admitting to these ~feelings~ that he had around eunho but now he thinks he’s in too deep to even think about backing out. he never thought that the idea of being in a relationship would scare him so much, but he’s also unsure how to go about it because he wants it so bad. will h2o ever sail? stay tuned, more at 9 as of this post (since oct 24, i wrote the og post on the 21st) they’re technically together!!!! happy 3 days (?) losers

he still really misses having @lgcharu as his roommate because of all of their shenanigans that they got up to last year. sure they can still sneak out whenever they want, but it’s just not the same when they’re not in the same room ; u ; BUT haru is his favourite son and will always be ... while jiho is lowkey emotionally constipated, he hopes that haru knows that he’s proud of him and how much he’s improved since they met. and that they can debut together after future dreams s3

he’s a bit worried about @lgcxcharlie because they haven’t talked much lately, considering it’s been hard since she moved to the band path and they don’t train together much anymore, but he still thinks about her often and is making a promise with himself to be better at reaching out and catching up. especially with what’s been going on with her life [eyes emoji]

he’s SUPER PROUD of @lgcyoungmin for continuing back onto the acting path because he’s always thought that his cousin was born to be on the screen, ever since they were young and he can’t wait to see him act again. also, he’s endlessly thankful to youngmin because of his endless, unwavering support. youngmin will always be his #1 fan and he will never be able to thank him enough for it. he’s going to watch every episode of kim family for youngmin’s cuts

big shout out to @lgcahin for being jiho’s personal emotional support (not yet) kpop boy because he genuinely doesn’t know if he could’ve gotten through some of the harder bumps in the road that he had hit without him. he really really really really REALLY wants to debut with ahin, just so that they can make their dream come true together

he hopes to get even closer to @lgcminjun — they’ve bonded over plushies and their mutual first time on an airplane and also mutual fear of flying and have (mostly) gotten over it together, so he hopes that they only get closer from here. it’s nice to have someone the same age as him share so many experiences with him and he also hopes that they’ll debut together

he’s very happy to have @lgcgitaek with him in legacy (even though gitaek has just moved out of the dorms) and he hopes to see him flourish in creatives since he seems so much happier there than when he was an idol path trainee

another shout out to @lgcyura for catching him in one of his low moments and stopping to help him calm down and rethink everything, and for encouraging him when he was doubting himself

thank you to @lgcalex for helping him through his fear of thunderstorms and constantly making sure that he eats enough.

a shout out to @lgcahri for being a great partner during babysitting services. also LOL about them skipping being a relationship to going straight to being great parents

thank you to @lgcjin for looking up to jiho and also telling him that taking pictures of his stuffed bunny at important landmarks was a good idea and also letting him play fairy godmother LOL

MISC.

he hopes to work towards being center or a main (something) for his future debut group though honestly? he wouldn’t mind being reduced to being the visual since he knows he’s surrounded by tons of talented people. he also knows he’s more than just his face, so he’s genuinely not too worried about his future position

he also really wants to get closer to his roommates ):

he’s been a trainee for almost three years now (2 years and just under 10 months) and he only hopes to keep going up from here

maybe he’ll finally muster up the courage to host his own vlive show! he’s been considering it for a while, but he’s only been comfortable being a guest so far

is considering dyeing his hair because he’s had the reddish brown colour for so long now. maybe blond? [eyes emoji]

mun nts: reach out and plot more once this week of assignments is due djskfbdf

#( update. )#( q. )#( queued bc idk if i'll be awake to post it on time sdjkfbksdj )

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candyshua · 5 years

Text

When Our Star Burns Out || Jeon Wonwoo x Reader

When you meet a strange boy by the name of Wonwoo through a game of dodgeball, you would have never expected him to change your life the way he did.

Genre: Heavy angst & tooth-rotting fluff

Word Count: 10,121

Warnings: Death, alcohol, mentions of sex, cursing, & cancer

A/N: i really hope you guys enjoy this. i spent so long writing this and i’m actually quite proud of it!! this is a very long oneshot as you can see, but i really hope you guys like it:))

You and Wonwoo had met in one of the most odd and unconventional ways a pair of human beings could possibly ever meet. You were 17 at the time, in the prime of your rebellious phase. You had always hated the way the world worked, with its cruel and unjust ways. You had worn colorless clothing, dyed your hair red without asking your parents (they made you dye it back to its original color the day after they found out), and got your belly button pierced with a fake ID. It was safe to say that you did things your way, and your way only.

Yet, somehow, you found yourself at your friend’s birthday party in a trampoline park on a Friday night, when you could be drinking or smoking or literally anything else besides that. It was the middle of January, yet the cold weather outside didn’t even compare to the cold words you had told your friend, Jinah, when she invited you.

“What are we, elementary school kids? That sounds fucking lame.” You had hissed. Jinah, however, was used to you and your off-putting ways.

“There will be free food and cake. All you have to do is get me a stupid gift and show up.”

And so you had found yourself at the trampoline park on that fateful January night. It was called Jumping and Jittering, which made you want to projectile vomit all over the neon-lit letters in front of the building. When you had walked inside, you were greeted with bunches of little kids running around and screaming. You instantly regretted showing your face at that stupid party.

The place was huge, though. The ceilings were very high, and its walls were an uncharming orange hue. In the way back, there were many mini trampolines where people could jump freely. There was also an obstacle course, a jousting station where kids fell into pits of plush, and most importantly, the dodgeball section. You were attracted to it immediately, and you somehow found yourself leading Jinah and the attendees of her party to said place.

And then, you saw him. Once you walked into the game of dodgeball, your eyes locked with a rather handsome and pleasant looking boy, who seemed to be around your age. You immediately looked away after you made eye contact, ignoring the sudden jolts of electricity that dashed around your entire body, leaving you with an uneasy warm feeling. His narrow yet alluring dark brown eyes perfectly contrasted with his goofy smile that he flashed to one of his friends. His nose was wide and its bridge wasn’t very prominent, but you found it extremely endearing. You had stopped yourself from further observing him, since you found yourself associating the word “endearing” with a random boy’s nose.

Yet, his lovely tufts of black hair that fell over his forehead just perfectly left your heart beating rapidly.

Before you knew it, the game of dodgeball had begun. You were always quite the athlete, even when you were little, you were always challenging boys who thought they were the best. That athleticism had stuck with you for a very long time.

You found yourself picking up a plush orange ball, and you locked eyes with the stupid, handsome boy and threw it as hard as you could. You didn’t know where this competitive mood had stemmed from, but all you knew was that you wanted to get that boy out.

He had underestimated you and your strength, seeing as he reached out to it with one hand, expecting to catch it and get you out. However, the ball hit him in the arm, and despite the ball’s softness, the impact kind of hurt. The referee (a young man with a very sad look on his face) had monotonously motioned for the boy you had hit to get out. So, the handsome guy gave you a mischievous yet playful glare and trudged off the trampolines and off to the side.

After getting him out many more times, the playfulness in his eyes was replaced with a fiery determination to beat you. Soon, everybody else except you two were out, and the stranger kept giving you a very dirty look. You were sure he was taking this way too seriously, since you were barely breaking a sweat from the amount of physical activity you had endured.

There was one ball left, and it was in his hands. You had nonchalantly jumped in place on one of the trampolines, letting him get in his own head. Jinah and her entourage were cheering for you, but you knew you were going to win with or without them. This handsome boy’s main flaw was that he was far too emotional--you didn’t know his name but you could already tell that.

So, when he threw the ball at you at a seemingly unstoppable pace, you had caught it (you’ll admit it, with some effort) and smiled deviously. Everybody from Jinah’s party started to cheer, and you even found yourself basking in your own victory. The poor boy looked mortified.

After the excitement died down, you stood at a vending machine waiting for the water you just bought to come down. However, it stayed lodged between the glass and the shelf.

“God dammit!” You cursed, helplessly shaking the machine in hopes of getting your water. Sadly, it was to no avail, the water bottle was stubborn and didn’t move an inch.

You were just about to walk away until you locked eyes with the guy you had publicly humiliated. You blinked twice to make sure you weren’t imagining him walking your way.

You didn’t exactly know what to do. To be honest, you didn’t plan on ever interacting with the handsome stranger ever again. However, he intended on interacting with you.

After a very long 15 seconds, he was finally right in front of you.

“You’re really good at dodgeball,” He murmured nervously, “I didn’t expect it.”

“Thanks.”

(You weren’t really the best conversationalist.)

He looked a little discouraged at your bland response, but he wasn’t going to give up.

“My name’s Jeon Wonwoo. What’s yours?”

You blushed a bit, wondering why he was interested in knowing your name. How was such a handsome guy like Wonwoo trying to get to know you?

“My name is Y/L/N Y/N.”

“That’s a cool name.”

“Thanks.”

(You internally cursed at yourself, hating the way you were awkward and shitty at talking to people.)

He was just about to walk away awkwardly until you stopped him. You don’t know what weird force had gotten into you, but you didn’t want your encounter with this very handsome boy to end so quickly.

“Hey, could you help me with this?” You questioned, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. Wonwoo turned around and flashed you his pearly whites, and in that fateful moment, you knew that you wanted him in your life. His beautiful smile made you feel things you had never felt before. You didn’t exactly know why this boy was making you feel like your entire body was melting from his warmth. All you knew was that he was very cute, and he had a nice smile.

He walked past you and shook the vending machine once, and then plop. The water bottle fell and you gave Wonwoo a very shy grin.

“Thank you...Wonwoo.”

“No problem, Y/N.”

After a very anticipant silence, Wonwoo spoke up.

“Can I um...get your number?”

Oh thank God, you thought, I thought I was going to be the one to ask.

“Yeah, of course.” You responded a little too quickly.

Was that too eager? Was Wonwoo already turned off? Did he now want nothing to do with you?

That was kind of your specialty--making people want to have absolutely nothing to do with you.

Yet, Wonwoo didn’t budge. In fact, he found your eagerness quite relieving. He had thought the attraction was one-sided.

(It wasn’t.)

You were freaking out, to say the least. It was the end of January, and you thought you were going to die of excitement and nervousness.

You and Wonwoo had been texting non-stop for the past few weeks, and he finally mustered up the courage to ask you on a date. He asked you to go see a horror movie with him, to which you happily obliged. You loved horror movies.

You didn’t exactly know what to wear, so you stuck with a maroon sweater and a regular pair of blue denim jeans. You put on a nice pair of converse, not wanting to try too hard. Your hair was stylishly let down as well.

Once you heard the honking of a car from outside your house, you bid your parents farewell and eagerly ran out the door. You had learned Wonwoo was only a year older than you. He was in his first year of university and he absolutely adored it--he majored in film. His dream was to be an amazing filmmaker, which you had found extremely endearing.

Once Wonwoo had laid his eyes on you, his mouth had fallen slightly agape. He thought your simple outfit complimented your entire demeanor perfectly. You looked angelic amid the cold winter night. Your cheeks and the tip of your nose were red, which made Wonwoo’s insides feel odd. There was no other way to put it, he didn’t feel normal--he felt weird and unusual. But, it wasn’t a bad kind of weird.

After the movie ended, Wonwoo had learned that you--like him--could handle horror movies quite well. He had found you incredibly cool, and he thought your charisma multiplied exponentially each time he learned something new about you.

Finally, you had arrived back to Wonwoo’s car after running to it in the freezing cold. The city lights of Seoul were seen in the distance, but you had wished you could’ve seen the stars instead.

“I love stars.” You blurted while curled up in a ball in the passenger seat of his car. He chuckled at your adorable nature and put his jacket on you like a blanket. You ignored the quickening pace of your heart and the heat rising to your cheeks despite the ungodly cold weather.

“Why?” Wonwoo probed, eyeing you shyly. This was new, exciting, yet comforting. You were loving every second of whatever this was. Dating? Friendship? Whatever it was, you didn’t want it to stop. Ever.

“Well, I mean, they’re pretty far away, right?”

“Right.”

(Wonwoo tried to stifle a smile that broke out since you were so goddamn adorable, but he failed miserably.)

“Yet, we’re still seeing their light. Even if they’re many light-years away, their light still got to us. Hell, the star could’ve even burned out by now--but we still got to see them.”

You had looked at Wonwoo shyly, expecting him to laugh at you and your stupid interests.

Instead, however, you were pleasantly surprised.

“That is quite a nice way to look at it. It makes me...feel at ease. Like I know I’ll always have the stars to depend on.”

Wonwoo’s words had made you want to kiss him right then and there. However, your words were quicker than your actions (or lips).

“Yes! Thank you, god! Everybody always calls me stupid for thinking like that...Or annoying. Or both!” You joyously shouted, making Wonwoo’s smile widen even more.

“You’re cute.” Wonwoo blurted, which made you freeze up. Despite the heat you were receiving from Wonwoo’s jacket and your own clothing, you felt oddly chilly.

Yet, it was a good kind of chilly. You liked it a lot.

“So are you.” You had retorted, wondering where the bravery to flirt came from.

Suddenly, you had felt infinitely grateful to Jinah and to the fact that you attended her stupid birthday party. You also felt grateful to your athleticism, your competitive nature, and of course, to Jeon Wonwoo.

The beautiful winds of spring had kissed your skin just right. You walked through the fair, hand-in-hand with Wonwoo. To say that you were at ease would be an understatement--you felt so much more than that. Despite having just gotten off an extremely scary ride, you were content and tranquility flowed throughout your veins.

Wonwoo, however, was still shaken up from that rollercoaster. You led the both of you to a table by the concessions and made Wonwoo sit down.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You asked, worry prominent in your voice. Wonwoo then felt his heart ache dramatically, and he had come to the realization that he hated seeing you hurt. He could hear the pain laced into your voice, and he knew that he was the cause of it. It felt absolutely awful.

You then sat down next to Wonwoo and took his hands in yours. “You can tell me anything, you know…”

With those words, Wonwoo had found himself surprisingly opening up to you. You two had been dating for about three months now, yet Wonwoo could be very stoic at times. You had wanted to learn more about your boyfriend, but he had trouble trusting people.

However, you were different. Ever since the night of your first date, he knew he could trust you. He was just scared of opening up and then losing you. The last thing in the world he wanted was to lose you.

So, you had learned about Wonwoo’s fear of rollercoasters, which stemmed from the problems he had with his parents.

His parents didn’t support him or any of his artistic endeavors. They had wanted him to be a doctor, since he had a mighty sharp brain that could do something more “productive” than making films. However, Wonwoo rebelled, saying that being a doctor just wasn’t his dream. His parents were never supportive.

He recalled one time in his early childhood where he went on a rollercoaster, but his parents had refused to go with him. And, in that moment, 8-year-old Wonwoo had felt terribly alone. That feeling of loneliness stuck with him until the day he moved out of his childhood home.

“I know it seems trivial,” Wonwoo began after explaining himself, “but it’s me. It’s why I hold you so close, it’s because you listen. You support me, and I’ve never really had that before.”

Your eyes bored into Wonwoo’s dark irises with intensity. Before the rational and cowardly side of you could deny, you had pressed your lips against his with fervor and love.

Love.

You had loved Wonwoo, to the point where he was always in the back of your mind. Little things like the smell of mint or horror movies would make you think of him. Whenever he was the center of your attention, your insides pooled with warmth. He made you feel human, like you could finally breathe again.

You had hated the world, it was horrible and cruel. People were worse. However, whenever you were with Wonwoo, you forgot about the terrors of the world and your hatred towards people.

You finally pulled away and gave him a playful stare.

“Sorry.” You giggled.

“It’s okay.” Wonwoo gave you a lazy smirk.

You gave him one last peck on the lips, and then backed up on the bench you were both sitting on. The sky was blue and cloudless. There were many people all walking in different directions around the two of you. Children’s laughter could be heard among the bustle of life, yet all you could focus on was the man in front of you. You wanted to bask in the moment and observe every little detail of the atmosphere, including Wonwoo’s black skinny jeans and simple white t-shirt along with your red blouse and black leggings. It was your first kiss with Wonwoo (or with anyone for that matter) and you didn’t want to forget it,

“I hate everything--well, I used to.” You blurted.

Wonwoo then gave you a puzzled look.

“Why?”

You sighed while you shifted nervously in your seat, and then you finally decided to open up to him--he had just done the same to you. It felt right.

“When I was five, I was put into foster care. My mother could no longer take care of me, despite not having any financial troubles. To sum it up, I was a burden. And, it hurt--a lot.

“Yet, after three years of being in foster care, my new parents had found me. They took me in and, for a short period of time, I felt like I was theirs. I didn’t feel like an abandoned piece of trash.

“Sadly, I had to start my new school. The kids there were absolutely horrible to me, they would steal from me and call me names. I was nine. But, I grew up and I learned how to stand up for myself. It led me to be friends with Jinah, and then I met you.”

Wonwoo stared at you with his big, innocent eyes. His respect for you had just been multiplied by a thousand. He kissed you again (mainly because he wanted to initiate at least one kiss), and then he hugged you tightly, as if he never wanted to let go.

(You didn’t want him to.)

“What do you want to do with your life, Y/N?” Wonwoo asked you while the two of you stared at the stars on a summer evening. The sudden question had startled you.

“Well, damn, I don’t know.”

Wonwoo scoffed and turned on his side so he could look at you. You glanced at him very briefly, staying on your back. You were enjoying that particular date, since Wonwoo had taken you to the countryside so you two could look at the stars without them being overshadowed by the city lights. You had told your parents you were going on a drive with Jinah, but they saw right through your lie.

However, they didn’t call you out on it. They saw the way your lips slightly curled upwards when you thought of what you were about to do. They knew you loved him.

You let yourself bask in the silence and contemplated Wonwoo’s million-dollar-question. You hadn’t really figured that out yet. You were an exemplary student, and all of the colleges you had applied to accepted you. However, you didn’t exactly know what you wanted your career to be.

“Well?” Wonwoo cooed, giving you a small smile.

“Um…”

You were silent for a bit--until it hit you.

“Oh! I know!”

Wonwoo glared at you.

“How about you tell me?” He sarcastically exaggerated. He couldn’t contain his smile, though. You were just too damn cute.

“I want to be a writer.”

Wonwoo grinned widely.

“We have similar interests, don’t we?”

You shrugged. You tore your gaze from the sky to look at Wonwoo again.

“I just have a lot of ideas. I think I could write them down, and then make them into a story. I don’t really know, to be honest. I’m just kind of winging it.”

Wonwoo laughed at that. You playfully glared at him and stuck out your tongue. After Wonwoo’s eyes averted from your gaze and went back to look at the stars, you felt the feeling of happiness melt into your blood.

You knew you would remember that moment for the rest of your life. And, when you would get sad, you would force yourself to think about it. You would force yourself to think about Wonwoo’s beautiful smile, and his smooth black hair, along with his lanky limbs yet well-built body.

“Thank you, Wonwoo.” You murmured shyly.

“For what?”

“For playing dodgeball that one stupid night.”

It was an odd feeling--knowing that the foundation of your relationship was some stupid game of dodgeball. It was also odd to think about how long ago that night in January felt, when it really was only seven months ago.

Wonwoo smirked and then scooted over to you, and planted a wet kiss right on your lips. You smiled into the kiss, wanting him to know that he made you happy--that he made you smile.

Wonwoo had driven you two back to the motel you were staying at for the night. And then the kisses you two shared turned into something more serious, more fervent. Before you knew it, your clothes were off, and then Wonwoo was inside of you, and then you were no longer a virgin.

Once you two were finished, he cleaned you up and then snuggled up next to you, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“I love you.” You confessed with a quiet voice.

“Finally.” Wonwoo laughed.

“What?”

“Finally. It was about time one of us said it. I love you too, Y/N.”

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

You fell asleep in each other’s arms that night, knowing nothing but your love for one another.

You had started Seoul University. It was a huge change, to say the least. Your classes were stressful, pain-inducing, and time-consuming. However, you were skating by in terms of grades--your GPA was very high and your grades were amazing.

One day, your creative writing professor had called you to meet him right after class. Your mind automatically went to the worst possible reasons as to why he wanted to meet with you. Were you in trouble? Did you do bad on an essay? Oh god, was he going to seduce you?

“Hi, Professor.” You nervously greeted while avoiding his gaze.

“Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. It’s quite the contrary, actually.” He must have sensed your apprehension. Were you really that easy to read?

You finally made eye contact with him. You cocked your head to the side, as if your curiosity was a sign for him to continue.

“Your latest story was absolutely amazing, so I submitted it to some publishers in New York I’m friends with, and they absolutely loved it.”

Oh god.

“And you said you speak English, right?”

You nodded slowly. You swore your heart was in your throat.

“Well, they want you to go to New York for a year and work under them. They see potential in your work, Y/N. As a matter of fact, a lot of people do. I recommend that you do it, it’s a huge publishing company and they could really get your name well known. Plus, it’s kind of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

You didn’t know how to react. Were you supposed to be happy? Excited? Why was your first thought about Wonwoo?

“I’ll think about it.” You sighed, trying to fight the sudden solemn mood you were put in. This was supposed to be great news, but why did it feel like you were losing?

You contemplated not telling Wonwoo at all, since you were almost certain that you were going to turn the offer down. But, Wonwoo could read you like a book, so when he came to pick you up after your literature class, he knew something was wrong. You weren’t your usual talkative and passionate self, you seemed hollow.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Wonwoo questioned with concern laced in his voice. You had sucked in an uneasy and sharp breath, wondering if it was even worth telling him.

“I got an offer.”

“Elaborate.” “Okay, so, I got an offer to work under these really famous publishers. They read a short story of mine and they want to see more of me.”

Wonwoo furrowed his eyebrows intently and cocked his head to the side.

“And this is bad because?”

“Because I’d have to go to New York City for a year.”

Silence.

Wonwoo’s lips pressed into a firm line after your soul-crushing words. Wonwoo knew you were talented and extremely intelligent.

“I don’t think I’m gonna take it, though.”

Wonwoo gave you a look that somewhat resembled anger. He was mightily conflicted.

“Do it.” He surprised himself when he said that.

Wonwoo’s words had hit you like a punch in the gut. Why was he encouraging you? Did he want you out of his life?

“But I--”

“Do it, Y/N. Don’t stay for me, please. This isn’t what you want--you don’t want to turn down amazing opportunities for me. You don’t want a simple life, do you?”

He waited for you to answer. He then gave you a very stern look, and you were coaxed into answering.

“No, I don’t.”

You didn’t, that was true. You couldn’t possibly imagine settling down for a mundane and safe life. You wanted excitement, you didn’t want to work in a job and have to climb the corporate ladder. No, you wanted to follow your dreams.

“Exactly. I love you, Y/N. And, since I love you, I’m not going to stop you. This is your dream.”

You knew he was right. You knew that this was your dream, and you shouldn’t be putting it on hold for a man. Despite your earth-shattering love for Wonwoo, you couldn’t let that get in the way of your dreams.

“I’ll be gone for a year--at least. That means…”

You couldn’t even bear to finish the sentence. You felt a lump in your throat start to form, and then the tears started to fall effortlessly. You were a sobbing mess, but Wonwoo held you and calmed you down, repeatedly saying “I love you” and “it’s okay”.

Wonwoo’s words had always been able to calm you down, but in that moment, his words only made your heartache worsen.

You broke up with Wonwoo the night before you left. The both of you knew it was coming, the inevitability of the entire situation was unstoppable.

You had showed up in front of Wonwoo’s house at around 11 PM, waiting for him to come down right after you called him. The look in his eyes said that he knew, and that it was okay.

“Hi.” You managed to muster. Your voice had already cracked from the oncoming onslaught of tears.

“Hey.” Wonwoo’s eyes were warm, and he gave you a sad smile. He took a step closer to you and kissed you on the lips softly, as if it was his way of saying goodbye.

“I love you, um, a lot.”

“I know.”

“You know if you tell me not to go, I won’t. I’ll stay here with you.”

You knew you had wanted to go, but Wonwoo had this insurmountable power over you. His opinion mattered so goddamn much, and if he wanted you to do (or not do) something, he just had to say the word.

“I’m not a selfish person, Y/N. You know that.”

You were already breaking down. Wonwoo’s bottom lip was quivering, and you could tell he was trying to keep it all together for you.

“You can cry, you know.” You forlornly chuckled. He returned the sad laughter, and soon he started to sob just like you.

You took a step closer to him and tried to take in everything about that night. The smattering of stars in the sky, the way Wonwoo’s porch light was flickering, and the way your heart was breaking.

“I love you.” Wonwoo whispered, his voice breaking. You let yourself soak in those three words for a bit.

Long distance could never work. The difference between timezones, the loneliness, just everything about it was so off-putting. So, that was off the table.

And, despite your love being so strong and real, it couldn’t change the way reality worked. And, the reality of everything was that this was most likely the end. You were both young and in love, but there was no realism in the idea of staying together forever.

You then looked at Wonwoo’s chocolate orbs and took in a deep breath.

“Let’s break up.”

All Wonwoo could do was nod and give you the world’s saddest smile. You finally maneuvered your way out of his touch and gave him one last wave goodbye, almost as to say “I’ll never forget you”.

How could you ever forget Jeon Wonwoo?

You were absolutely exhausted. You were about to drown in fatigue until your friend, Cynthia, came and shook you awake.

“It’s time to go home. Need a ride?” She offered, but you shook your head tiredly.

“No thanks, my boyfriend is gonna pick me up. Thanks, though.”

Finally, your boyfriend Joshua arrived in his lovely car. You trudged to the vehicle and you forced yourself to keep your eyes open. You finally opened the car door and gave him a lazy kiss before shutting it.

“Tired?” Joshua asked, amusement prominent in his tone.

“Joshua Hong, I really hope you’re not entertaining yourself with my pain right now.” You half-jokingly hissed, which just led to Joshua chuckling quietly.

“Where to?”

“Your apartment. No sex, though--too tired.”

“Understood.”

You laid in Joshua’s bed and scrolled through your phone mindlessly. You heard the shower running, but you were just too tired to join him.

Suddenly, while scrolling through Instagram, you had gotten a follow request. Ever since you permanently moved to New York, you had gotten a new Instagram account, wanting to snip the roots of your old life.

You had went to New York for a year, went back to Seoul and graduated, and then you moved back after you fell in love with the city. It had been two years since your graduation, and it was safe to say things were looking up for you career wise. At the promising age of 24, it felt like there was nothing you couldn’t do.

But then your jolly mood had dropped completely once you saw Jeon Wonwoo’s name flash on your screen. He had found your Instagram.

Despite only seeing his name, you found your heart beating slightly more rapid than its usual pace.

Out of instinct, you stalked his account (which was public) before you accepted his request. You noticed how there was a huge absence of any females in his post, just Wonwoo and his friends from back home. He had no bio, and his profile picture was a picture of the night sky with lots of stars.

It was a different account than the one he had when you two were younger. However, it still screamed Wonwoo. Although you were only seeing what he wanted the world to see, you felt as if he didn’t change at all.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you accepted his follow request. What was the worst that could happen?

You had moved on. Wonwoo was your first love, but the blazing days of your youth were over. Now, you were an adult. You were more mature and you had a steady yet exciting job. Your boyfriend of two years loved you dearly.

You felt safe. You felt secure.

So, letting Wonwoo follow your Instagram account wouldn’t do any harm whatsoever. None at all.

You woke up to an incessant ringing. You groaned out of reaction, blindly reaching for your phone.

“God, why is your alarm on? It’s Saturday.” Joshua grumbled with his raspy morning voice.

“I turned my alarm off. Someone’s calling me.”

You then look at the caller ID, which read “Dad”. Why was he calling you at such an odd time?

You pressed the green “answer” button and put the phone up to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Y/N, you need to come back home. Your mother is sick.”

It was 4 in the morning, and you were desperately hailing a taxi. You finally succeeded, and you told the driver your home address after he finished boarding your luggage. Despite Korean being your first language, it felt foreign on your tongue.

Once you arrived home, you paid the man and brought your luggage inside with the help of your father. The reunion was bleak and filled with sorrow. Your father’s hopeless demeanor said it all.

Breaking up with Joshua had given you major deja vu. You were the one leaving, yet again. But, Joshua was an incredible and understanding man, so there were no hard feelings. It hurt beyond belief to leave him and New York, but you weren’t going to stay there and leave your parents all by themselves. You may have been selfish at times, but when people truly needed you, you were there for them.

Once the two of you finished unpacking your luggage, your father drove you to the hospital. It had been a week since your father had called you, but unpacking everything and breaking up with your boyfriend weren’t exactly speedy processes.

The car ride was deadly silent, as if saying anything would make things worse.

Apparently, your mother had been having horrible migraines, to the point where she could barely see. So, your father took her to the doctor’s one day, and they found it she had a brain tumor.

It was operable, but the surgery was extremely risky, with a ten percent success rate. The reality of the situation didn’t really sink in until you saw your mother’s frail body laying down on a hospital bed. Your eyes immediately were filled to the brim with tears at the sight of her.

“Hi Mom.” You croaked, trying not to let her see you cry.

“Y/N...I missed you.”

You stifled an oncoming sob.

“I missed you too.” You wallowed in the silence. Oh god, it all felt so real--too real. Soon, the regrets started to flood into you, attacking you like a tidal wave.

You would call your mother once a week, and they would last from ten to fifteen minutes. She would want to talk more, but you were just so damn busy.

You watched your mother intently. Her eyes were closed and her chest was barely rising with each breath. You contained yourself from downright sobbing.

Suddenly, you heard the door creak open. You turned your head and expected to finally meet one of the doctors, but you were greeted with someone you had never expected to see in person ever again.

Jeon Wonwoo.

“Wonwoo…” Your mother mumbled after opening her eyes, giving him a weak smile. Your mouth fell agape at the sight of him. He had...grown up. His hair was still the same black color, but it was now curly and more voluminous. He had become much more muscular and built--he wasn’t the same lanky and scrawny boy you had remembered. His eyes were no longer doe-like, they seemed sage and mature.

He was expecting to see you, but you still managed to catch him off guard. He gave you a weak smile and handed you a coffee, which you took with hesitation.

“Hi, Wonwoo.”

He smiled. Oh god, that damn smile. Suddenly, you were seventeen again, and the center of your universe was Jeon Wonwoo.

It had barely been two minutes of reuniting with him, yet you already felt like you were about to implode from warmth. Did meeting exes always feel this way? Like the feelings were still somewhere in the air, lingering?

“Hi, Y/N.”

His voice sounded the same. It was still deep, smooth, and song-like. You realized you didn’t need the coffee anymore, you were already wide-awake.

You had learned that Wonwoo had been taking care of your mother alongside your father while you were gone. That added to the insurmountable guilt you felt.

You had also learned that Wonwoo was working on a film, to which you were pleasantly surprised.

The two of you sat on your front lawn and chattered over some beer and finger-foods. The moon hung low in the sky, and the late-summer wind felt nice against your skin. You found yourself looking at the stars, just like that one night with Wonwoo.

“So, Y/N, how have you been?”

Wonwoo had tried to act as nonchalant as possible. He didn’t want you to know that he was still madly in love with you.

“Um, good, I guess. My job was going really well...I managed to transfer to one of their offices in Korea, so that’s a relief.”

Wonwoo nodded, listening intently.

“I um, had a boyfriend.” You saw his content eyes waver a bit.

Ouch.

Wonwoo tried to hide his hurt with a surprised, fabricated grin.

“Obviously, it didn’t work out. He was Korean, but he didn’t want to come back to Korea with me. So, um...we ended it.”

Wonwoo had downed another beer by then. You gave him an empty chuckle and followed in suit.

After a few more drinks, everything else was a blur. Suddenly, you and Wonwoo were kissing, taking each other’s clothes off, and then sleeping side-by-side, holding each other like nothing had changed.

You awoke with a killer headache. You had reached to your nightstand to grab some Advil, but you were bound to Wonwoo. His long and muscular arms were snaked around your waist, and he was holding onto you for dear life.

And then the memories of last night came flooding into your mind, each memory more painful than the last.

Yet, being in Wonwoo’s arms just felt so natural, like you were supposed to be there. With him.

Maybe you were supposed to be with him all along.

“Wonwoo, get up.” You croaked, and you heard him mumble a noise of disapproval.

“Let’s stay like this for a bit more, please.”

You sighed.

“Okay.”

The next day, you avoided Wonwoo like the plague. He texted you multiple times, along with a few missed calls. You were too preoccupied with taking care of your mother anyway.

You had caught up with your mother, and she learned much more about Joshua than you would let her know over the phone. You noticed the way her smile didn’t reach her eyes when you talked about him.

Yet, when Wonwoo walked into the room, the spark in her eyes was back.

“Hey Mrs. Y/L/N, I brought you some bread from the bakery you like.” Wonwoo smiled, holding up a brown paper bag. Once he came over to the both of you and handed your mother the bag, he motioned for you to meet him outside of the room.

You didn’t want to talk to him about what had happened, that was an undeniable fact. You didn’t want to come to terms with your underlying feelings, because you were so scared. You were scared of opening up to Wonwoo again, you were scared because Wonwoo made you feel like you were young and reckless again.

He had this placid power over you, and it never truly died down over the years of being without him. You may have suppressed it to the back of your mind, but the moment your life got entangled with Wonwoo’s again, you were vulnerable.

Being with Wonwoo again after all of those years made you feel like Joshua never existed. Like you never moved to New York, like you two had never broken up. Why was your love for him so unmatched? Why couldn’t you move on?

You could forget about Wonwoo for a bit, but the moment you would go face-to-face with the man, everything came back. So, no, you didn’t want to meet Wonwoo outside of the room.

Yet, you still did. And you let him take your hand in his and walk you outside, to the courtyard. You let him look at you like he still loved you, and you let yourself return his love-filled gaze.

He sat you down on a bench. The sky was gray and cloudy that day, and the weatherman said it was going to rain. The sun was hidden behind the fluffy clouds, but you still felt warm when Wonwoo held your hand in his.

Despite the fact that there were many people walking around the yard, when Wonwoo’s eyes met yours, you felt as if the two of you were alone. As if it were you and him against the world.

“Hi.” Wonwoo stalled.

“Hi.”

“Should I just get straight to the point?”

You nodded.

“I...um...I never forgot about you. I never truly moved on. I dated girls here and there, but it just wasn’t the same.”

You gulped, feeling a solemn pressure in your chest.

“And, um...I still love you. A lot. And seeing your instagram feed being filled with you and that guy Joshua, it hurt. And I regret drinking with you and sleeping with you, not because it was you, but because I didn’t want to restart things this way.”

You tried to look at anything else besides Wonwoo’s intense gaze. You tried to look at an old lady getting wheeled around, you tried to look at a group of kids playing tag, but you just couldn’t.

Your eyes met Wonwoo’s. You realized that you never felt that level of intensity with Joshua, and it was quite a cryptic epiphany.

All of those years you had spent in New York, you were just pretending to be over Wonwoo. You never were.

Yet, you felt selfish. How dare you endeavor in romance while your mother was dying?

“I can’t.” You sighed, finally tearing your eyes away from Wonwoo. He sucked in a sharp breath, as if he were just cut by a knife. You had debated not explaining to him, but you thought Wonwoo had deserved that much.

“I just can’t do this right now. Not with my sick mom, Wonwoo. I can’t let anything distract me from her right now, I’m sorry.”

Wonwoo shook his head and clenched his jaw.

“This is your problem, Y/N. You always think you’re the problem. Do you wanna know what your mother told me before you came back?”

Silence followed his question. Yes, you wanted to know--of course you did.

“She said that she wanted me to man up and ask you out again. She wants me to marry you, Y/N. Why else would she let me stay by her side all this time? Because she didn’t want me to be in her life?”

Your mom was sneaky, you had to admit. She had always loved Wonwoo.

She loved him because he made you happy.

“Okay.” You whispered. Wonwoo quirked an eyebrow.

“What?”

“I said ‘okay’. Let’s try this thing again.”

Your mother’s funeral was a blur. All you could remember was the bleak colors and Wonwoo’s tight grip on your hand. All you could feel was agonizing, soul-crushing pain. Pain ate at you like a vulture eatings its dead prey, you were a breeding ground for it. After all of the arrangements were done, you had sat in bed for a week, only getting up to go to the bathroom. Wonwoo had brought you food to eat three times a day, but you would barely touch it. All you could think about was the fact that your mother was dead.

She had died about two months after you got home. Your family had decided against the surgery, since it could’ve killed her even sooner. So, she lived out her last two months diligently. She didn’t spend them in a hospital bed, she spent them with her family.

The night she died was also a blur. You had rushed her to the hospital after you came home from work one day and found her collapsed on the ground. There wasn’t much the doctors could do, or at least that was what they said.

And, in that moment, you felt completely and utterly powerless.

Your father was avoiding his emotions, unlike you. You were battling them head on, and you were losing miserably.

Your father would go out to drink at least three to four times a week, and he would come home absolutely shit-faced.

Wonwoo had stayed strong, despite the pain that encapsulated his heart. He would cry silently, when no one else could see. He needed to be strong for you and your father, since the both of you had nobody else.

You returned to work a month after she died, greeting your coworkers emptily. You sat down and reviewed stories that were in the process of getting published, no longer feeling that spark of passion you had once felt while working. Everything was bleak, including you.

Three months after the death of your mother, Wonwoo was lying in bed beside you one night, listening to your steady breathing. “Y/N,” He began, “are you awake?”

“Yes.” You croaked.

“Can I tell you something that might make you mad?”

You didn’t have the energy to object.

“You need to get back to the world of the living now, Y/N.”

At this, you turned around to face him.

“What?”

“You need to come back to life. You’ve been a zombie these past few months, but it’s not what your mother would’ve wanted.”

You felt yourself grow cold at Wonwoo’s truthful words. The pain you were experiencing had emotionally crippled you, and you had given up on about everything. Time had meshed into one big blur, and your memory was hazy; you could barely remember what you had for dinner last night. You started to cry into the crook of Wonwoo’s neck while he hugged you tightly.

“It’s s-so r-real Wonwoo. It’s t-too real.” You cried as he rubbed your back with his warm hands. The ache in your heart had left you breathless. You just missed your mother so much, the longing to see her absolutely consumed you.

“I know...You just need to start living again, Y/N. For her.”

You looked up into Wonwoo’s passionate eyes. You nodded weakly and pursed your lips together in an attempt to halt your sobs.

You thought of your mother who had seen potential in you when nobody else did. When she brought you home with her, she had provided you with your first true family. She wouldn’t be able to stand seeing you wallow in your own self-pity like this.

After a few moments of silence, you bid Wonwoo good night and fell asleep in his arms. You had a hazy dream, all you could muster from it was that it was about your mother.

Slowly, you had started to rebuild your life, along with your father. Every day was painful and a struggle, but you knew your mother would have wanted you to move on. You could do this, you knew you could.

It had been a year since your mother’s passing. Despite the vacancy she left in your life, you no longer felt hollow. And, whenever you thought of a nice memory you had of her, you would smile instead of breaking down. You were getting there.

You couldn’t see anything, the only thing guiding you was Wonwoo’s hand and his voice. “To the right!” He ordered, but you had purposefully went to the left just to spite him. Despite being slightly ticked off at your stubborn nature, he laughed softly.

“Ew, why are your hands so sweaty?” You chuckled, making Wonwoo’s blood run cold.

He was nervous, that’s why! But, he didn’t want to ruin the surprise.

“I dunno.” He coolly responded. You shrugged it off and then started to focus on the task at hand. Where was this stupid man leading you to? And why were you blindfolded?

You suddenly felt fresh air kiss your skin. “Are we outside?”

“Shut up and let me do this?”

“Do what?”

Wonwoo didn’t respond.

You were sure of the fact that you were outside since you felt wisps of grass caress your ankles. It was a lovely July evening, over two years since the death of your mother.

The two of you had come to a sudden halt. You were both staying at a hotel for a weekend, since Wonwoo had suggested you two go on a “getaway”. You happily obliged, not suspecting much from it.

You felt Wonwoo untie the bandana around your eyes. Suddenly, a whole new world had opened up in front of you. There was an abundance of stars in the night sky, and there was a trail of rose petals leading up to the stairs of a gazebo. Wonwoo held your hand and led you down the path as shock filled you up and rattled your bones.

Before you could react to what was about to happen, Wonwoo went down on one knee and pulled out a lovely and very expensive-looking ring.

“Hi.” He laughed with an airy sound.

“H-hi.” You responded, already feeling the urge to cry.

“So, um, you probably have already figured out what I’m about to do. So, let me just say one thing: thank you. Thank you for coming into my life twice, thank you for always being a reason for me to smile. Thank you for teaching me about life and stars. Thank you for being my light.

“I was lonely, once. I had nobody to fall back on. But, on that night when you told me your thoughts on stars, my entire life changed. And, then I realized something--you’re the light a star gives off. You make things brighter, no matter where you go. Your light has reached me, Y/N.

“I think I knew I was in love with you ever since our first date. You had me absolutely smitten. And I-I just fell. Hard. When I lost you the first time, I was heartbroken. Yet, it’s almost like we’re destined to be together, since we found our way back to each other.

“So, I ask you this because I went to spend the rest of my life with you. Y/L/N Y/N, will you marry me?”

At this point you were sobbing uncontrollably. You managed to muster a weak “yes”, but your nodding head was what got the memo across. Wonwoo smiled brightly, his eyes twinkling more than the stars up in the sky.

You held your hand out and he slid the ring on your finger, your heart racing when he touched you, just like the first time.

“I-I love y-you.” You managed to muster, still crying tears of absolute blissful joy.

“I love you too.”

Despite not having financial troubles, the two of you settled for a small and inexpensive wedding. You barely remember anything before the wedding that day because you were so damn nervous. However, you remembered the ceremony just fine.

Your dress was an elegant, typical white wedding dress. Your veil flowed in a lovely manner, and your dress hugged your body just right.

You were 28 years old at the time, and it was an odd feeling to look back on your life before you met Wonwoo. You never wanted to get married, you simply had no interest in romance. Yet, teenage Wonwoo had swept you off your feet that one January evening, and the rest was very complicated history.

The wedding music began to play, and you were just outside the entrance that led to where the love of your life stood. The only thing that was in your way was the walk to him, which was much scarier than people played it out to be. You took in a shaky deep breath and showed your face.

Every head in the hall turned towards you. Your father walked you down with joyful tears in his eyes. It would’ve been amazing if your mother could have made it, but you knew she was watching down on you.

You knew she was proud of you.

After the long walk, you walked up the velvet-covered steps to where Jeon Wonwoo stood. He looked dashing in his standard black-and-white tuxedo. He thought you looked absolutely gorgeous, and he had to contain himself from crying.

Soon, the priest had started his speech. You tuned most of it out and just lovingly stared into Wonwoo’s eyes.

You mouthed I love you and he mouthed love you too. And soon, Wonwoo’s lips were on yours the moment after the priest had said he could kiss you, and you were filled with nothing but pure happiness.

A year had passed just like that. Both of you were very successful in your careers, but you still made time for one another.

That changed after your first wedding anniversary. Wonwoo had become busier and busier, to the point where he was stressed beyond belief. He would go to bed later than you and be out of the bed before you woke up.

“I’m working with a really famous actor,” He would say, “I’m just a bit stressed.”

Suddenly, the mood around the house was solemn and dreadful. You couldn’t remember the last time Wonwoo had told you he loved you, and vice versa.

Wonwoo was coming home late, yet he always had time to update his social media and hang out with his friends. You thought he was just deliberately choosing to not spend his free time with you.

What had happened?

Your initial reaction was self-indulgent. It must have had something to do with you--it was your fault somehow. Yet, when you’d try to get him to go on dates with you just like you used to, he would decline and use the excuse “I’m just so tired”.

You felt used. You were suffering in silence, and no matter how hard you tried to mend your relationship, Wonwoo put in no effort.

One night, you purposely stayed up later so you’d catch Wonwoo before you went to bed. You sat on the couch mindlessly watching TV, waiting for your husband to come home.

When he did, his eyes were bloodshot and his entire demeanor screamed “stress”. You immediately grew timid at the sight of him.

“Hey, Wonwoo.” You greeted when he took his shoes off and hung up his coat. He gave you a weak smile and walked right by you.

You had felt useless; it was almost as if Wonwoo didn’t need you anymore.

What if he had ran out of love for you? The sheer thought made you sick to your stomach. Despite his cold and distant attitude, you were still madly in love with Wonwoo, to the point where it hurt. Your love had felt unrequited all of a sudden, and you didn’t know what to do with yourself, or with him.

“Wonwoo.” You called out, but he kept walking. He must’ve not heard you.

“Wonwoo.” You called out again, this time a bit louder. He stopped dead in his tracks and swiftly turned around. He glared at you with nothing but pure ice in his eyes, and you knew you had fucked up.

“For fuck’s sake, what? Can’t you see I’m a bit stressed here? I would really fucking appreciate it if you weren’t so god damn incessant.”

You pursed your lips together and shut your eyes tightly. You didn’t want him to see you cry (since he was already so stressed), but you just couldn’t hold back the onslaught of tears. His icy words had sliced you open like a sword. You hissed at the unbearable pain you were feeling.

Wonwoo’s expression immediately softened. He ran over to you, but you held a hand as a signal for him to stop when he came near you. You couldn’t live like this anymore.

“I’m done.” You lamented, running past him to go to your room. He followed you like a lost puppy, whimpering empty apologies. You had grabbed a suitcase and went to your dresser, packing everything you owned up in a dramatic and emotional fashion.

“Please, Y/N, don’t leave me. Please…” Wonwoo sobbed, realizing his grave mistakes.

“I’m just gonna go stay at my Dad’s for a bit, okay? So you can figure out whatever the hell you need to, without hurting me.” You hissed. Wonwoo repeatedly shook his head, begging for you to stay. None of this felt real--the absolute pain you were feeling made you crumble. You felt pathetic, like the pain you were experiencing was unprecedented. Like you should give in to Wonwoo and apologize for standing your ground.

Despite the days you’d spent in agony due to this man, there was no denying that you were still madly in love with him. You didn’t want to give up on him, but he left you no choice.

You had to respect yourself.

Once you had finished packing enough clothes that would last you a week, you trudged to the front door, suitcase in hand. Wonwoo followed you pathetically.

You were just about to walk out the door without saying a word, but your heart took over your head for just about a millisecond.

“I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

Then you shut the door behind you, and all Wonwoo could hear was your car driving away and his heart breaking.

A week had passed since you had temporarily moved in with your father. You lay in bed after work that night, staring at the ceiling. Your eyes were red and puffy from crying, like they had been the past week.

You turned over to face your nightstand, where a picture of you and Wonwoo at the fair stood in a frame. That was the day of your first kiss.

You remembered that day like it was yesterday, since it was the day you had learned the both of you trusted each other. Things back then were so new and exciting. What had changed?

Were you really going to give up on Wonwoo? Is that what was truly best for you?

No, it wasn’t. Your heart started to beat rapidly, and then you jumped up out of bed and put an old pair of sneakers on. You then ran to your car, hopping in the driver’s seat.

Shit, it was low on gas.

Your dad was out for the night, so he took his car with him. You murmured a string of curses and then called a taxi. You waited impatiently for the car to arrive, your leg bouncing with nerves that made you want to hunch over and vomit.

The taxi finally arrived after what seemed like forever. You ran into the car and frantically told the poor driver the address of your home, the one you shared with Wonwoo. The love of your life.

He finally pulled up to your house, and you gave him a wad of cash that was way too much, and you ordered him to “keep the change”.

You then ran up to the front door, your hands shaking while you tried to input the key to unlock the door. Before you could succeed, Wonwoo opened the door.

His gaze could’ve drilled a hole in your head. You then began to smile, and you jumped into his arms. He immediately hugged you back.

“Let’s make this work, okay?” You sighed, your face snuggled against his chest.

“Yes, of course.”

You finally pulled apart after about two minutes of just holding each other. The two of you had sat down on your couch, which was promptly placed against the wall. You looked Wonwoo in the eye and swallowed a lump in your throat.

“What’s going on? What made you so stressed?”

Wonwoo took in a sharp breath.

“You know that film I was working on?”

You nodded.

“Well, it almost got cut. The company suddenly hated the idea and the script, and I would’ve lost a shit ton of money it if got cut. I had personally invested in that film, and not to mention, I poured my heart and soul into it. The night we fought, um...they said they were officially gonna cut it. I didn’t have the heart to tell you because I thought you’d be disappointed in me. I was being so selfish I didn’t even see the emotional toll I was taking on you.

“But, while you were gone, I managed to convince my company to take up the movie again. And that just left me some time to wallow in my own guilt and self-hatred.”

You shut your eyes and took a deep breath.

“Please, Wonwoo, tell me everything. I deserve to know…”

Wonwoo nodded as his eyes started to fill with tears.

“I love you, Y/N.”

You gave him a weak smile.

“I love you too, Wonwoo.”

The love you both had for each other was brighter than any star in the sky. You had refused to let the star you both shared burn out.

You knew that you and Wonwoo were meant to be in each other’s lives. The challenges life threw at you led you to one another.

You looked up and met Wonwoo’s passionate gaze. Your light had reached him, and his light had reached you--that was that. Yet, when the time comes for your star to burn out, there is no denying the fact that you had cast light on each other’s lives.

There is no denying the love you had both shared.

93 notes · View notes

evdolohov · 5 years

Text

❝ Never forget who you are for surely the world will not.❞ EVANDER DOLOHOV looks a lot like that muggle, MATTHEW DADDARIO, right? Only THIRTY years old, that DURMSTRANG alumnus works as a FREELANCE CURSE BREAKER and is sided with the NEUTRALS. HE identifies as a CISMALE and is a PUREBLOOD. [ PLOT ARC 43, PROPHECY 41, THE CYNIC ]

—— the basics. ——

full name — evander victor dolohov.

nickname — evan. ev. evie ( by his sister ).

date of birth — october 13th, 1996.

blood status — pureblood.

pronouns & gender — he/him. cis male.

orientation — heterosexual.

—— familial. ——

father — antonin dolohov.

mother — agatha dolohov.

siblings — twin sister and one older, paternal brother.

children — elliott james dolohov. 13. gryffindor.

marital status — single af.

—— education & employment. ——

former school #1 — hogwarts. years one to six.

hogwarts house — gryffindor.

former school #2 — durmstrang. years six and seven.

best subject(s) — charms, transfiguration.

worst subject(s) — history of magic ( ironically ).

functions held — keeper for the durmstrang quidditch team.

current job — freelance curse-breaker.

—— the story. ——

After the dust hat set over the ruins of the Second Wizarding War, the British Ministry of Magic set out to uncover each and every last follower of the Dark Lord and bring them to justice. Upon arriving at the old Dolohov manor they were surprised to find it lifeless, only a mess of belongings left behind to mark the existence of the previous owners. Among those fleeing for their lives was two-year-old Evander, the youngest child of Antonin Dolohov, who had absolutely no idea why he was running or from whom.

The Dolohov family reputation had suffered considerably due to their actions during both wars and they recognized the fact that they would no longer be welcomed into the British Wizarding World. They lost their status as elite along with most of their fortune and were forced into a cone of obscurity. It was a sudden and difficult change but they endured since they couldn’t really fight the Ministry’s decision. They had sided with the losers in the War after all.

The British branch of the Dolohovs spent the next two years travelling aimlessly through Europe and Russia, jumping from one acquaintance or relative to the other until they could find a place to call home again. In her husband’s absence, Agatha Dolohov worked tirelessly to restore a semblance of normality in the family. She set aside her pride and pleaded to the authorities for the pardon of her two children stating that they were innocent of any crimes she and their father had committed and they should not be declined the opportunity of attending Hogwarts and

Eventually, her pleas were heard and the family was allowed to return to English soil. The Ministry even agreed to give them back one of the five homes the Dolohovs had previously owned so they wouldn’t have to struggle too much. Agatha was still under the watchful eye of the Ministry and she was only allowed to leave the house under special circumstances. Even then she had a tracking spell placed on her. The children were not as unlucky.

Despite the Dark Lord’s defeat and her apparent capitulation to the Ministry of Magic, Agatha never stopped believing in the sanctity of blood purity and everything that came with it. Behind closed doors, she constantly reminded her children of their duties as purebloods and of how disposable they were if they failed to meet the standards. When the Dark Lord would rise again they needed to be worthy of joining his ranks so their family could once again take their place in the elites where they belonged.

Agatha made sure to never spoil her children. They were to learn their worth as purebloods and how to act according to it, but never become overbearing. Along with positive traits such as confidence, poise and charm the youngest Dolohovs were taught about bitterness, cruelty and, most important, vengeance. The violence in their small house by the lake was kept a secret from everyone, even from other purist families. No need to wash dirty laundry in public, their mother said.

Ever since he was very little Evan has been the odd one out. He always questioned authority, disobeyed his mother, associated with people he had no business being around and, most importantly, questioned the purist way of life. Needless to say, his behaviour got him punished more times than any child should be, leaving some very deep physical and emotional scars. But it never managed to fully crush Evan’s spirit.

Agatha hoped that the boy’s attitude would adjust itself as he grew and became more aware of the world surrounding him but her hopes were all in vain. The differences between Evan and his family became more and more apparent with every passing year and his disdain for their way of life grew stronger and stronger. The only person in the house to escape his hatred was his twin sister.

Evan was the only one of the Dolohov children to not be sorted into Slytherin. Instead, the Sorting Hat decided his place was in the house of lions. Needless to say, the news came as a huge shock and disappointment to his mother who believed she had failed as a parent. His supposed failure was not left unpunished when he returned home for Christmas break that year.

Students at Hogwarts were still wary of the Dolohovs and often avoided interacting with them unless it was absolutely necessary. This was rather difficult for little Evan who had never had many people to call friends and was very eager to make some in school. He tried, to the best of his abilities, to prove he was nothing like his father and other students had no reason to fear or hate him. Whoever wanted to take the time to get to know him was more than welcome.

During his Hogwarts education, Evan tried to restore at least a shred of dignity to the name Dolohov. Instead of cowering in the shadows, ashamed of his background, the young wizard worked harder than his peers to prove he was more than just the son of a dark witch and a murderer. Even though he hasn’t always kept his head held high when walking down the school corridors, Evan tried his best not to pay any attention to idle gossip or hurtful comments directed at him.

Most of the time, Evan ended up in the company of other children coming from families of former Death Eaters. It wasn’t out of loyalty to some dead cause or nostalgia, or the need to be approved by his mother, they just understood what it meant to pay for someone else’s mistake and be looked at with suspicion just because of something your parents or grandparents were a part of.

Sometime during his fifth year of school, Evan was accused of a very heinous crime. Allegedly, someone had seen him cast an unforgivable curse on a muggle student and later on that student ended up dead. Evan denied the accusations and tried to defend himself but the damage had already been done. Everyone had painted him a murderer and they were demanding he be punished for his actions. Lacking enough evidence to have him sent to Azkaban, the Ministry committee assigned to the case advised for his expulsion instead. Headmistress McGonagall had no choice but to obey the order.

Despite how hard he tried Evan never really felt like he fit in at Hogwarts, not with all the weight that hung on his last name and all the wrongfully placed hatred that he had been getting even before the unfortunate incident. So he considers getting expelled as probably one of the best things that had ever happened to him, even with the reason attached to it.

Even though she publicly scolded her son for the accusations, Agatha was proud of the fact that her son had supposedly come to her senses and understood that muggles were not something a respectable wizard should associate himself with. Hard as he tried, Evan couldn’t convince her that he wasn’t responsible for the crime.

It was one of Evan’s maternal uncles who called in a favour at Durmstang so that his nephew could have a place to finish his studies. Even though nothing really qualified the former Gryffindor to attend the Institute, he was accepted and was shipped off to the Scandinavian school immediately after Christmas break. The rest of his siblings remained in England. Evan was allowed to return home for the summer breaks but he would be placed under supervision by the Ministry.

The young wizard thrived during his years at Durmstrang. He wasn’t the most sociable of creatures but he did manage to make some friends with whom he spent most of his time. A good number of those friends had some kind of connection to Death Eaters: either their families had been members of the organization and were now in the same position as the Dolohovs or they had been sympathizers of the cause. The best part was that at his new school nobody judged him for what his family had done during the wars, not openly at least.

At Durmstrang Evan finally had the courage to try out for a position on the Quidditch team. He was accepted as Chaser and maintained the position until the end of his stay at the Institute.

The summer after his sixth year was the time when Evan was finally disowned by his mother. He met a muggle girl and the two were immediately drawn to one another. Evan jumped into a relationship without much regard for the consequences. At first, he tried to keep it a secret, mostly to avoid any unwanted nagging from his mother, but very quickly he stopped caring and openly admitted the relationship to his family. What he never mentioned to anyone was that he had told her about the magical world.

In an attempt to try and persuade her son to give up such foolish behaviour, Agatha sent in Evan’s twin sister. When she came back unsuccessful, Madam Dolohov was enraged, to say the least. For days she filled her son’s head with threats and insults in the hope that he would get discouraged and abandon the muggle. Her words fell on deaf ears.

The day he was set to leave for Durmstrang Evan received two pieces of news that would change his life. The first was that enraged, his mother had decided to disown him. He was cut off from what little money she sent him every month and was no longer allowed to contact any of his siblings, especially his sister. He had to take all his belonging with him when he left for school and never set foot into the house again. The second was that his girlfriend had become pregnant.

Being disowned wasn’t much of a shock, he half expected that to happen, judging by how furious his mother had been. But the second piece of news left him speechless. The pair decided that they would keep in contact as often as possible and they would sort things once he returned from school the next summer. Luckily Amelia’s parents were more understanding than his.

Little did Evan know that September 1st would be the last day he actually saw his girlfriend. Amelia died due to complications at birth. The news was absolutely devastating. What’s worse is that her parents were no longer willing to honour the deal they had made and they were not willing to let Evan see his son either. His sister somehow managed to sneak him a picture, something he was very grateful for. She also promised to look after little Elliott as well, make sure no harm came to him from their mother.

After graduation, Evan had absolutely no idea what he was going to do with his life. Since he was no longer a student at Durmstrang the school had no obligation to host him over the summer. Evan suddenly found himself all alone in a foreign country, no roof over his head and nobody to turn to for help. Whatever great plans he had made when he was younger all seemed like distant, unachievable dreams.

He spent some time sleeping on the couches of the few friends he had managed to make while at Durmstrang but he knew it wasn’t going to be a permanent solution. He also needed to get back to England, back to his kid. The first step towards achieving this goal would be to earn some much-needed money. One of his friends’ father managed to get him a part-time job at the metal charming facility where he worked, nothing fancy but it got him enough money for a trip back to England.

At age eighteen Evan was living and working at the Hog’s Head Inn in Hogsmeade. In his free time, he kept an eye on his sister and checked in on his son who lived in Scotland with his grandparents. Even from that young age, it was clear that Elliott had inherited magical abilities from his father. It was only a matter of time until they manifested. Evan waited rather impatiently for that day to come.

While making a deposit at Gringotts, the former Gryffindor’s attention was caught by a recruitment pamphlet for Curse-Breakers. Since he met most of the requirements and was in desperate need for a job, Evan decided that it was worth giving it a shot. Within a few days of applying his presence was requested at the Ministry of Magic to discuss further training for the position.

Evan went in with as much confidence and determination as he could muster. He wasn’t there to make friends, he was there to learn and become the best. The training was every bit as rough as he had expected and there were days when he got back to the Inn exhausted, bruised and with his will almost broken. But the following day he was back at it, even more driven. Once training came to an end the male was selected to become a Curse-Breaker for Gringotts. On occasions, he also collaborates with the Ministry, when they are in need of someone with his skill set.

Three years after his return to England he was contacted by his former girlfriend’s parents. They were complaining about strange behaviour with Elliott and they had decided they could no longer take care of him as he had become dangerous. Evan knew there was nothing really dangerous about the five-year-old, he just needed someone to teach him how to control his magic. So he happily agreed to take custody of the boy.

Now he’s a part-time Curse-Breaker and a full-time dad. He’s also got some help with childcare from a great aunt who was also disowned by the family for taking a muggle’s side in an argument.

Evan currently resides in muggle London with Elliott, who is in his third year at Hogwarts, and his great aunt. They all live in a small apartment and it gets kind of stuffy and insane sometimes but he loves it either way. Evan is trying his best to keep his son as far away from the upcoming war as possible. He’s advised Eli against joining any kind of organizations at school, no matter how much pressure he feels from his peers.

Even though the Hogwarts case against him has been set aside due to lack of evidence, Evan still feels the weight of those false accusations even to this day. While some people believe his side of the story and consider him innocent, there are others who want his head on a platter even after all these years.

—— plot arc. ——

Hard as he’s trying to remain neutral in the upcoming war, for Elliott’s sake, Evan realized he can’t remain that way forever. His sister has joined the Wraiths, either by her own decision or pressure from their mother, he doesn’t know, and it looks like she is in over her head. Now feels like he’s got a duty to both his sister and his son to keep them alive no matter what comes their way.

Being neutral isn’t of much help, especially since he’s done all that he could to not be involved in the affairs of either good or bad and he has no contacts on either side. If he is to be of any use he needs to be as informed as possible and as ready as possible. To make sure he can achieve that it seems like he needs to finally choose a faction to put his faith in. The logical choice would be the Order but there’s no guaranty they will spare his sister if it comes to it. And neither will the Wraiths if the war turns sour and they win.

#rev intros #here's my garbage papa bear #abt

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wasalwaysagreatpickle · 4 years

Text

Monday 25 January 1830

8 1/4

1 1/4

At my desk at 9 10/.. –

No motion at all for the first time I think since beginning with vegetable diet but had one afterwards at one o’clock –

From about 9 1/2 to 10 3/4 read over the 2 newspapers – Galignani’s messenger and the new daily paper which has made its first appearance today, and of which they send round the 1st no. by way of prospectus, the ‘London express and Paris advertiser’ – 4 columns, but larger and better print than Galignani’s – there is always to be a literary article – that this morning on and in high praise of Moore’s life of Byron, well enough to get up – to be concluded in the next paper tomorrow – Breakfast at 10 3/4 in 1/2 hour –

From then to two and a quarter wrote the copy of and the letter to Mrs De Hageman –

Wrote a small sized sheet full (4pp.) to Madame de Hageman – chit chat answer to her letter – a great deal about her little boy as this subject will, of course, interest her most – ‘He is really a very fine boy, - a boy of considerable talent, with much more appearance of application than is usually joined to so much quickness, and with all so well taught by mamma that he gives no trouble to anyone, and we are really pleased to have him for his own sake…..It is understood by all parties that he is to come every other Sunday’….

Put my letter and what little Frederic wrote yesterday into an envelope together then put the whole under cover to ‘Monsieur monsieur Stuart’ ‘I shall be very much obliged to you if you will send the enclosed to Turin by Lord Stuart de Rothesay’s bag – very truly yours Anne Lister, Monday 25 January 1830 –

Went out with my aunt 2 1/2 – en passant George took my letter to the Embassy – drove to the Bois de Boulogne walked my usual way to B- then by the allée Bourbon to Passy – through the village and by the river to Madame Decante’s – brought back [cartou] and dress, and home at 5 –

George brought in my letter sent back by Mr Henry Stuart to say they had no communication with Turin but by post and to beg me to put a full direction on my letter – very civil and I am sorry to have given him so much trouble – Letter per petite post from the Embassy from Miss Maclean 2 sheets i.e. 7pp. and the ends, and enclosing a very nice full 1/2 sheet from Miss Hobart who, it seems, has been very unwell – cold and fever- confined to her bed some days – bled, blistered etc. –

She seems to have been pleased with my last Dear Miss Lister thanks for one of my own pet letters

Your treatise on ‘admiration’ is worthy of being put in print, and if [?] before the age of rage of printing and publishing all private writings is over, the world may have the advantage of it, but not while I live: as long as I have power over anything, it shall rest with its predecessors (and I hope successors) in your pretty Berlin no. Vienna Bex, which I have dedicated to your letters, instead of ‘gants’, as being more worthy of it’ –

Concludes with ever affectionately yours in fact I believe she likes me as well or perhaps better than she likes most others –

Miss Maclean’s letter full of Mr Long – she is not angry with me as I expected, but still fills her pp. about the wonders done by this man who has however the gratitude to say, (perhaps truly) he owes all his success among the higher ranks, to her – she says Sir Colin Campbell has made an immense stir about him at a dinner at the duke of wellington’s – the duke is a convert he says, and McDougall called on me yesterday – who says the uproar is great and that both colonel C- (Campbell) and Sir Colin are up in arms on Mr Long’s side’ etc. etc. she concludes her letter with the following postscript ‘I could tell you wonders of Mr Long, but I am bound to secrecy for the present – you may entirely pull out the sting of having caused me to place myself under him – I feel proud in having increasingly proclaimed my opinion even when he seemed almost forsaken by the malignant reports of his medical opposers he thanks me for my courageous conduct and says all his present prosperity he owes to me’ – Poor Sibbella! gulled past all recal! But ‘tis the business and perhaps the happenings of her life, and leave her to the enjoyment of it – she says the cause of the death of sir Thomas Lawrence is only whispered now, but will soon make a commotion (nothing but commotion) he was bled – the arm (I suppose it was) carelessly bandaged – began to bleed again – his servant called for assistance – the medical man would not hurry! and he bled to death! ‘Mr Long has no high respect for Mr Crosbie though on the side of politics they agree – not on the letter Mr Long was indignant at it…. I know not whether the duke’ (of Cumberland) ‘has struck him off the list of chaplains or not, I rather think not, for Mr Crosbie is in high spirits…. do not mention this – The duke wrote to Mr Crosbie that he could not publicly countenance him at present but not to fear – the time would come’ – Believe this who can –

She says ‘Lady Stuart seems much pleased at Lady De Rothesays attention in inviting you to her parties so frequently’ poor good old Lady I do believe she would do anything she could for me

‘All you have said of my Vere’ (page 3 third sheet)’ from your very first letter has not been lost on me, though I said nothing particular in reply – nor shall I now – except that I am really sorry for your unsettled feeling – which you so feelingly mention in most of your late letters’ - …. ‘I do not correspond regularly with the Mackenzies – If the duchess of Hamilton is still in Paris you better write her a little note with Miss Mackenzies book and request to know]where she is and forward the book to her – you and she are not like – she is not strong – talented and accomplished and excellent and a little oddish too – but I have no notion whether she also has a travelling mania’ – Miss Hobart mentions having just heard from Paris a story against Lady Graves with a certain duke – ‘that good for nothing duke ought to be hanged there several times for his manifold iniquities’ – Lady Gordon to return to London this week -

Dinner at 5 50/.. – came to my room at 7 – wrote, except the first 4 lines, as far as line 21 of today – Forest dressed my hair – dressed – stood reading Cloquet (Ethmoide) – coffee at 9 20/.. – off at 9 1/2 to Lady [Yavasours] – Captain and Miss Hall there – and some time afterwards came Sir Charles and Lady Style – M Moreau there – a few gentlemen I spoke to, but nobody else I knew or asked to be introduced to – played one game at écarté with Lady Style and won ten sols – came away at 11 1/2 – home in my room at 11 3/4 –

Not very pleasant party to me individually knew too few people Lady Style prefers talking to men as most women do

It seems the [Yavasours] are to spend next summer at Spa! How will this advance the education of their children? there will be another scene of visiting – spa balls etc. –

Fine soft day – Fahrenheit I should suppose at 40˚ or above –

#anne lister #anne lister code breaker #sibella maclean #1830

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roaminginspiration · 5 years

Text

The Diner

Part 2 (x)

The next day, Steve was gone. His dreams of fighting for freedom and justice were crushed by the cannonball of disillusion. He went on a national UFO tour instead, entertaining the crowds with pipe dreams, all of his but only at reach on a stage.

He wrote to Natasha almost everyday and she preciously kept the envelopes with stamps from cities all across the country. She re-read them, again and again, behind her counter with insatiable eagerness, then safely tucked them into her apron pocket whenever a customer called.

She knew all about his mixed feelings: how the UFO tour oddly filled his sense of worth with heady thrill, but only ever for a while, before waning and leaving that void more hollow every time.

More and more posters of Captain America were stuck up on walls and venue doors or advertised in the papers. His name began to be uttered publicly, and she heard once or twice some locals at the Diner bring it up.

Natasha, meanwhile, encouraged by her boyfriend’s comforting words, dared chase her old dreams again. She took evening dance classes, every day after her shift, in hopes of entering an official group of ballet dancers. It was hard and exhausting — and she had to work double-time to pay for the classes — but Steve reminded her in every letter that she had what it takes to mesmerize the world.

After a couple of months, Captain America was finally coming to New York for “a splendorous performance”. She glanced at her reflection in one of the windows of the theater and cleared her throat nervously. Her lips were colored bright red and her hair was styled elegantly for the occasion. She was wearing a new outfit she had saved up for for weeks, after reading the letter in which he announced his return.

She showed her ticket to the employee who tore it up slightly to her disappointment. He then moved on to throw it onto the pile of other tickets in the can when she interrupted.

“May I keep it, please?” she asked with a smile. The man eyed her curiously. “It has sentimental value.”

The employee shrugged it off and handed it to her. She pressed the tear between her gloved thumb and fingers before putting it back into her purse. Next, she entered the main room and was greeted by a dozen lights and decorations. People, all dressed up, were rushing to get the best seats at the front. She took off her coat and sat down on one of the seats available in the back.

After a few minutes, a female member of the crew came up to her with a smile.

“You’re Natasha, aren’t you?”

She nodded. The girl smiled at her. “A seat has been reserved for you. If you’ll please follow me.”

She put the coat around her arm, took her purse and walked up to the very front row.

She blinked. “I— I don’t think I have the right ticket to sit here.”

The girl joined her hands together and smiled. “No worries. It was requested by Captain America himself. Enjoy the show.”

And she certainly did. From the moment the lights were turned off and the curtain was pulled up, she was spellbound. Her heartbeat quickened up expectantly when the name of Captain America was called and he came on stage. Sure, the costume was ridiculous, the storyline was corny, the music and song lyrics were clichéd but she loved every second of it, feeling great pride in seeing her boyfriend performing on stage, cheered on and beheld as a hero.

There was a sparkle in her eyes when the curtain came down and she jumped on her feet to clap.

A few minutes later, the same employee from earlier came to take her backstage. She walked into the room finding Steve standing sheepishly as he signed an autograph for a little girl holding her father’s hand. Some of the UFO dancers were huddled around him, including one who draped her arm over his back. He didn’t seem to notice.

As the little girl excitedly flashed through the doorway while staring at her signed photograph, his eyes fell upon her. His face changed completely, veiled with a complex combination of vulnerability and glee.

“Natasha,” he whispered.

“Hi, Big Guy.”

All the dancers, busy putting on extra make-up or combing their hair, spun around and stared in awe. They giggled loudly. The other girl dropped her arm.

“NATASHA,” they hollered before bursting into laughter.

They soon surrounded her, sharing comments out loud about how pretty indeed she looked, among other things.

“I’m hungry,” one of them eventually said. “Let’s check out what we can get!”

They squeezed her shoulder, hugged her, kissed her cheek before hurrying out of the backstage room. Only the other girl paused slightly, told Steve goodbye, before leaving under Natasha’s attentive look.

He ran up to her and kissed her before holding her in his arms.

“I’m so happy to see you,” he murmured, gazing at her.

“You too,” she said with a beaming smile. “You have a fan,” she continued coolly glancing through the hall at the handsy dancer from earlier.

“Lucy Ann?” he exclaimed as he walked back to the center of the room, “she’s just a colleague.”

“I don’t doubt it…for you. She, on the other hand, wants a piece of Captain America.”

He folded his arms awkwardly and leaned on the chair behind him.

Her eyes lit up. “I can’t blame her, though. You strangely look yummy in that costume.”

He frowned then laughed nervously. “It’s part of the role. I hate it.”

She smirked then nibbled her thumb seductively. “I may have a way to fix that.”

She turned around to close the door behind her and dropped her coat and purse on the clothes stand in the corner. She walked up to him alluringly.

She captured his lips and pulled him in as she began to suck on them. As she stepped back and undid the top buttons of her blouse, he blushed hard.

“Here? What if we get caught?”

He clung onto the chair and closed his eyes shut as she buried her face into his neck and her mouth began to travel down his throat.

“W-wait,” he mumbled weakly and she pulled away with a conniving smirk as she opened her blouse wide, revealing the red lace bra she was wearing. He let out a whimper and came at her lips, eager and passionate, slipping the blouse off of her.

She moved closer as he pulled away toward the long table normally used as a dressing table.

She pressed a hand on his torso and pushed him down so he lay completely on his back.

Her hands then moved to her back and she opened the zip of her skirt, letting it drop to the floor.

He ran his fingers through his fingers, torn between reason ardent lust, and sighed as he quickly glanced at the door.

“What if someone walks in on us?” he murmured, out of breath.

Natasha climbed onto the table and straddled him. She leaned down.

“Well, hopefully, that’ll be Lucy Ann.”

And she kissed him again. The loud music of the jazz band playing in the main room covered the sound of their moans.

The following week, Natasha received a very different kind of letter. He wrote to her about how Peggy Carter had come to one his shows for the soldiers and told him Bucky’s regiment had been ambushed by Hydra in Azzano; and how she had helped him, along with Howard Stark, to fly to Austria in the hope of finding him alive and rescuing him. The unofficial mission was successful and granted him a place in the army.

Her hand shook a bit as she read the words but she smiled with gleaming eyes.

I’m so proud of you, Steve. It’s about time the world gets to know the true worth of Captain America, she wrote in her reply.

After that, she expectantly opened every letter to read about his latest adventures. His name began to grow big and came out of the lips of almost every customer; and the people downtown. And in the headlines of big newspapers.

Everybody knew of Captain America and admired his boundless courage. And she couldn’t be prouder despite the fear of losing him. She found solace in holding onto the fact the super-soldier serum kept him safe.

The story of his exploits was also accompanied by the most trivial anecdotes.

A female private kissed me behind folder shelves, today! I’m not really sure how this happened. Peggy caught us before I could pull away. She was furious — she said she was disappointed I was disrespectful to you. I told her we’d laugh about it together!

In her letter, Natasha answered:

Who knew people at the army were so frivolous? Please send my regards to Peggy Carter for her loyalty to me.

She, on the hand, went from one unsuccessful audition to another. The reasons were varied: not being a student in a reputed ballet school; too petite; not fitting the traditional profile. As she wrote in one of her letters:

The jury said it was uncommon to see red-haired dancers; the audience is accustomed to a certain ‘archetype’ apparently. My teacher suggested I dye my hair blond. Maybe he’s right.

To which Steve replied:

You are perfect the way you are. You shouldn’t have to change for anyone. Someday you will be known as the dancer with the red hair and you won’t share the title with any other ballerina.

Making both ends eventually became a real issue to the point she had to consider quitting her evening classes. That was until the morning after Christmas when her teacher called and said all her classes for the next semester had been paid for. The ink on Steve’s letter for the holiday was stained by one of her tears.

In 1945, Steve Rogers demonstrated heroism for the last time as he flew Red Skull’s plane into the ocean. Peggy Carter spoke to him on the radio until the very last moment. As he came to the sad realization it was the end, he told his friend:

“Peggy, I need one last favor from you. There is a letter at the bottom of my footlocker. I need you to give it to Natasha. Please.”

His hands were tightly clasped around the throttle handles, knuckles white. He heard her sniffing quietly.

“I promise, Steve.”

He nodded to himself as sadness and anguish slowly crept in. As he got nearer to the ice ground, he closed his eyes and thought of Natasha.

A couple of days later, Brooklyn Golden Palace Diner had an unexpected visitor. Natasha halted and her expression froze as she saw the dark-haired woman in a military suit standing by the entrance with a grave and compassionate expression. Natasha put the plates down and headed over to her with a pounding heart.

She heard the British accent.

“I wanted you to know about it first before the news is made public. And I wanted you to get it from me personally,” Peggy said as she handed in the letter. Natasha gulped down as her fingers wrapped around her apron. Peggy looked at her with gleaming eyes. “I am so sorry.”

Natasha shook her head as her chest tightened to the point she thought her heart would burst.

“No, no, no,” she cried as tears raced down her face. Peggy stepped closer and held her shaking body in her arms.

His last letter read:

Dear Natasha,

If you are reading this letter it means that I did not make it back — and I apologize for failing to keep my promise to you. It’s a letter that I’ve dreaded to write (and that I will keep hidden away until I hopefully destroy it) but I can’t resolve myself to not send you one last letter to say goodbye. Although you are across an ocean, you were with me always; and I know I shall think of you in my last moment. Because, simply put, it’s always been about you.

Despite the dozens of papers I have filled with the story of my adventures, you forever remain my greatest one. My so-called ‘heroic feats’ do not stand with my first act of courage: that evening I turned up at the diner and finally asked you out.

Please don’t be sad when you think of me. Be happy. I am writing this letter with the absolute faith that you and I belong together. If not in this lifetime, then in another. That’s where you’ll find me…waiting for you.

Yours always and forever,

S.R.

This was the end of Captain America’s existence in the 1940s and the start of a new one in 2011.

Steve woke up in a transformed New York City: bigger, higher and brighter. But duller without Natasha in it.

S.H.I.E.L.D. did not have to search for her very long. Natasha Romanoff had turned out to become a successful ballet dancer. Red Swan, they called her. She had even given a performance at the National Opera of St-Petersburg — “TRIUMPHANT RETURN TO HOME COUNTRY”, the newspaper title had read. He found the only available footage of one of her performances online.

He watched, with teary eyes, her slender figure move gracefully across the stage; twirl, leap and soar like a free feather. The audience in the video — just like him at this moment— gazed on, completely mesmerized. Another archive footage showed her leaving one of the venues surrounded by fans and photographers. One journalist asked her:

“Miss Romanoff, you are one of the greatest ballet dancers in the world but you are also known as Captain America’s sweetheart. Does that title bother you?”

Natasha paused and turned to face to the journalist. Steve read her fond and nostalgic expression through the glitching footage.

“I’ve always said that I accomplished two great things in my life. One was to become a ballet dancer, the second —to which I owe the former— was to take that job as a waitress in a local diner and meet Steve. For me, he’ll forever be that kid from Brooklyn who changed my life for the best.”

Steve pinched his upper lip as he listened to the recording. He then did more research and found out Natasha had died, at age 86, in October 2007 — four years before he woke up. She was unmarried and equally divided her fortune between the Brooklyn Dance School and a charity honoring WWII veterans. Steve pressed play again and watched the footage as Natasha stood on stage, holding a bouquet of roses while sending kisses to a cheering crowd.

He burst into tears in front of the computer screen.

The new present, as modern and advanced as it was, needed Captain America and he poured his heart into the task. He found a team and made friends: Sam Wilson and Black Widow, Yelena Belova, who became a loyal ally and a dear teammate. And he even found Bucky back.

He saved New York, then the world, and finally the Universe. After killing Thanos and when came the moment to bring back the Stones, he naturally volunteered to complete the task.

Only with newly found resolution and the prospect of retiring and getting his happy ending. Standing by Tony’s time machine, he turned to Bucky who stared at him sternly.

“You’re going back to the Diner girl, aren’t you?” he stated.

Steve swallowed down and nodded. His eyes filled with tears.

Bucky smiled. “Be happy, Steve.”

A tear rolled down his cheek as he pulled his best friend into a hug. “Tell her I say hi,” James murmured into his ear.

Steve picked up the case and stepped onto the platform. His heart raced in exhilarating nervousness. He activated the suit on and gave one last glance at Bucky.

And then blinding flash of light swallowed him in.

In 1946, Natasha was finishing her shift. Tommy had left 10 minutes before and she was putting away the dishes and filling in the napkin and straws dispensers.

The entrance bell jingled behind her.

“I’m sorry, we’re closed,” she said without pausing in her chore.

“Is it too late for a milkshake?” a familiar voice murmured with a cracking voice.

She froze completely. She stared blankly at the cloth in her hands, unable to bring herself to turn around and be disappointed. She knew it was impossible anyways.

“It’s me, Nat.”

She clasped her mouth shut, muffling a whimper, and flipped around. Steve was standing in the middle of the room with gleaming eyes mirroring her own.

He was a little older — more mature-looking —, his weary expression had replaced his ingenious one, but it was him. Nothing else mattered.

She ran up to him and collided into his arms, pressing all of herself against him to feel every inch of his body.

Her eyes shut tight.

“God, tell me I’m not dreaming,” she repeated under her breath. She brushed her fingers up his neck. “I don’t care if I’m going mad, I never want this to end.”

He smiled into her neck then tucked a lock of her red hair behind her ear.

“Me neither,” he laughed softly.

She pulled away to look into his eyes. He leaned in to kiss her and it brought back a whirlwind of not so remote memories. It felt better than words could convey. She buried the side of her face into his chest and breathed in his scent. They remained standing like this for precious minutes.

“You said you’d be waiting for me in another lifetime,” she whispered with a content expression.

He kissed the top of her head and relished in this blissful moment.

“I couldn’t,” he admitted with a smile.

#romanogers #Steve Rogers #Natasha Romanoff #Captain America #stevenat #capwidow #captasha #writing #fanfic #AU #inneedofinspiration #skinny!Steve #Steve x Natasha #the Diner

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