#maybe i'll just read my fic out loud to me dog or something you know

[lizardkingeliot]

i have days where i’m like... okay. certainly this whole queliot thing has to be out of my system now, right??? or if it isn’t yet, it’s going to be soon, RIGHT?! and then i wake up with my chest swelling thinking about the scene i’m working on in my kissing story, and i go about my day doing my silly little grown up tasks with these two twirling like horny ballerinas in my head and it’s like... no, actually. this whole queliot thing isn’t even close to being out of my system yet.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

TERRITORIAL. | Softcore

"Don't worry- I'll take it real slow with you so you know I mean it."

Tags/Warnings: Punk!Jungkook, Wolf!Jungkook, Good girl!Reader, Dom!Jungkook, Sub!Reader, Corruption kink, strangers to crushes to lovers, Fluff, Adult themes

+ Additional Tags/Warnings: none, some flirting?

Length: who's counting anyways

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

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"Damn, who's pissed in your breakfast this morning?" Jimin laughs, trying to joke- but it's clear that Jungkook is genuinely angry with his packmate, heated glare sent his way.

"I told you, you were being too mean yesterday!" Hoseok scolds, smacking the younger wolf on the back of his head. "Now you ruined jungkookie's fun last night." He mumbles, looking at the youngest apologetically-

Though the wolf sits up almost proudly, a sly smile growing on his lips as he chews his food.

"Looks like he still got his dick wet." Jimin laughs, making Jungkook growl.

"I wasn't out to get my dick wet you dog!" He argues, before crossing his arms. "Was just.. driving around." He shrugs.

"You." Taehyung raises a brown before he sits down at the table as well. "Just driving around." He continues, making the youngest roll his eyes.

"You act like I'm always up to something." He accuses, before his phone buzzes on the table, quickly snatched away by Jimin who grins brightly while fighting against Jungkook's reaching hands.

"Movie sounds great, do you have one in mind?" He reads the message out loud. "Oooh, Jungkookie has an actual date?!" He exclaims, before the youngest wolf can snatch his phone back.

"Shut up." He growls, before he gets up to put on his jacket and boots, turning around once more. "Don't fuck this up for me. Next time you see us, just shut your mouth." He requests awfully.. nervously almost, before he leaves, door closing behind him.

"You think he's found someone he likes?" Taehyung wonders, pulling Jungkook's leftovers toward him.

"Looks like it." Hoseok shrugs.

"Huh." Jimin huffs, leaning bag with an almost proud smile. "Would you look at that."

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Your apartment is cozy, small but very inviting, and most of all- it smells like you and you only, something that Jungkook enjoys a lot.

"Do you want me to dry your jacket?" You wonder, looking at him carefully taking off his wet jacket, since it's been pouring outside. Only now do you notice that, once he pulls off his beanie, it's the first time you see him like that.

Damn. Those tattoos really paint a full sleeve and some.

Not to mention the fact that his black sleeveless top hugs his body so tightly that it leaves almost nothing to the imagination- and in a way, that makes you a bit self-conscious. He seems like someone who works out a lot and often- would he think of you as less attractive once he notices you hide no defined physique underneath your clothes, but small rolls and chubby thighs?

Maybe. Maybe this is a bad idea.

Interestingly enough, it seems like Jungkook notices your change in mood- posture changing to appear less threatening to you, tail waving a little behind him to add to the appearance. It helps- if just a little.

"I mean- sure? If it's not a bother.." He answers your question, making you nod before you take the heavy jacket from him, glad to have something to distract yourself with.

"You can.. sit down? Or, I don't know- raid my fridge." You joke a bit stiff, before you flee the scene, hanging his jacket up in your little laundry room where your dryer has already warmed up the air, everything smelling of your favorite fabric softener. You actually sometimes take a nap in here, especially during winter- you're not sure why, but the smells and warmth offers you the bestest naps, especially when you sleep on your thick feather filled quilt.

It's an odd habit. Will he think you're weird if he finds out about that?

Once you return to your living room and kitchen space, you find Jungkook already looking inside the fridge, scanning the different snacks and drinks in there, visibly curious as his tail stands high. You can't help it, in that moment-

sneakily tugging just a little on the very tip, causing him to snap around, startled.

"Sorry!" You apologize immediately, shrinking back a little. "I- that was rude-" You start, when he wags his tail so much it smacks against the open fridge door, his laughter ringing through the small space of the apartment.

"No worries, was just caught off guard-" He reassures with a grin. "-you're really quiet. And those ears work really well!" He jokes, pointing to his pierced ear.

"Should I be louder then?" You wonder, reaching past him for a bottle of water. "So you can hear me?" You ask, and he looks at you for a second, before he chuckles, throwing his head back.

"You're so cute!" He barks out, before he closes your fridge, following you back towards your couch. And there, you sit as if you're being scolded almost- hugging your legs in the very corner, too shy to really be comfortable around him, and of course- he notices.

"What's making you uncomfortable right now?" He wonders, zapping through the recommended shows on your TV.

"Huh?" You ask, looking at him. "Nothing. I'm fine!" You laugh, though even that sounds more like you're just trying to pacify him, and it reminds him of one of his packmates' mates, back when she first met the whole group.

You're acting very similar. Intimidated, unsure where your place is. Trying not to step out of line.

"Hm, you're not." He chuckles, sitting back a little more relaxed. "Is it the tattoos? They're off-putting to some, my mom doesn't like them either." He chuckles, trying to ease the tension- something he craves out of pure instinct, because, considering his interest in you, he can't have his possible future mate be this uneasy around him.

He's supposed to be your person of safety and protection, someone you can and want to rely on- not someone you're scared of, in any way.

"No- not really." You shake your head, looking at them from the distance, noticing the colors and intricate details in some parts. "Just.. I don't know." You mumble.

"Is it the muscle?" He wonders, head tilting to the side a bit, and when you look away and adjust your position a little, he clicks his tongue. "Ah, please don't worry. I know how to control my strength!" He jokes playfully, but you shake your head. "No?"

"It's not.. that, at least not really?" You wonder, deciding that you better rip off the bandaid right now so it'll hurt less later. "You're just.. you look really fit, and I'm not. I'm lazy." You explain, without any demeaning tone thrown at yourself. "I don't really do any.. working out." You say, and he shrugs.

"Fine by me. It's your body, not mine." He offers, and you're unsure what to think about that statement.

Growing up, you learned from both your family and past friendships and relationships even, that every sentence uttered by mankind has some sort of second meaning. It created some sort of imposter syndrome for you in a way, as if every praise and compliment had some sort of background to it. Like you didn't deserve it- and people were simply too nice to tell you that blunt and openly.

So maybe it's not him saying that it's your choice and he doesn't mind it- but him saying that he's simply aware of the fact that he can't force you to do anything, but that he's glad he's not in your place. It's a far reach, and you know this- but the petty demon inside your head just won't shut up, ever.

Luckily however, the wolf next to you on the couch seems to have telepathic powers or something- or maybe he can smell your feelings? Because he immediately adds something to his words to soften up his statement. "The most important thing for me is that you're healthy and happy. I don't need anything else, really." He smiles encouragingly, and you shrug, before nodding.

"I guess." You just mumble, letting the awkward silence wash over you both while Jungkook chooses a movie, logging into his own account on your streaming service- something you notice. "You can just buy it-" You say, but he chuckles.

"Nop. Let me do that- I'd feel bad otherwise." He explains, buying the movie with his own money. So his last name is Jeon? You really didn't mean to look at it, but it's hard not to. It's when the movie starts that he leans a bit more onto your little sofa, opening his arms. "Can we cuddle?" He wonders, and you look at him a bit like a deer in the headlights. "I promise my friend down there will behave. I just wanna have you close- is that okay?" He wonders, and you shrug, unsure how to approach it.

Considering how long you've been living by yourself, you feel like you forgot how to properly.. cuddle at all. And it's like you just realize that right now- when was the last time you hugged someone? Held someone's hand? Or just sat close to someone else?

"You don't have to. I just.. wanna make you feel more at ease." He softly says, pausing the movie on the TV. "If you're not ready to be this close to me yet that's fine, and understandable. We can try another time-" He starts, but you shake your head.

"I just.. I've been living alone for a while now." You say, opening up at least a little bit. "I'm.. I don't know, it feels awkward now." You admit, and he nods, soaking up the info you give him.

"Alright, I can work with that." He smiles. "We can take it slow and easy, no issues." He shrugs, setting down his hands again.

And that's where they stay, as you both simply watch the movie-

Jungkook quietly leaving after you fall asleep, but not before putting a blanket from the couch over your body.

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"I can't promise you they won't be weird-" Jungkook chuckles through the speaker in your helmet- a new one now, that you suspect he might've bought just for you, because it's a lot smaller and fits way better than the other one you've been given before. "-but I'll keep them in check." he reassures you.

"Are you like, the leader?" You wonder, unsure, and he chuckles again, stopping at a red light.

"No, I'll tell you who's who when we're there- I'm just a regular member, nothing more nothing less." He shrugs, one of his hands leaving the handle of his bike to rest on your thigh next to his leg, running up and down absentmindedly. "Is that okay? Or too much?" He asks, looking back for a second, though you can't see his face with the helmet covering his head entirely.

"That's fine." You say, genuinely meaning it- and you can't see it, but he's grinning brightly at this small step forwards, tail wagging. He's noticed you leaning against his back a lot more this time, slowly seeming to grow more comfortable on his bike, even so much so that you've begun to instinctively sit in the proper way to make driving easy for him.

And he also really enjoys you clinging onto him not in fear but comfort- but that's besides the main point.

The moment you arrive, everyone already standing around with their own bikes or by themselves, it's very clear that Jungkook's whole.. adventures with you has made the round. People are whistling and laughing, but it's also clear that it's just to tease him, and not in bad nature. You can even hear someone cooing when Jungkook reaches out to help you take your helmet off, bike standing secure on the kickstand, his own helmet already having been taken off. "Don't mind them. I'm the youngest of the pack." He admits, and you nod, smiling.

"You'll handle it, I'm sure." You agree, and he grins proudly, before he helps you get off the bike.

"Oh look at them, this is so cute!" Someone laughs, commenting probably on the fact that Jungkook had taken your hand in his to maybe offer you some extra security- something you appreciate.

"Please stop, you're scaring her off." He whines, as someone walks up beside you.

"Jungkook's right. Leave him be." A tall guy says, before he looks at you kindly. "I'm namjoon- not sure if he's told you already, but I'm the pack leader here " he offers, and you nod in greeting, smiling back. "I hope he treats you well- if not I'm gonna have to have a word with him." He jokingly threatens, making Jungkook roll his eyes.

"I'm treating her very well, thanks for asking." He snaps back, and you can't help but giggle a little at the banter they're both participating in.

Up close and personal like this, the whole pack of wolves doesn't actually feel all that threatening.

They're clearly playing around with him, teasing whenever he does anything considered affectionate towards you, and it's almost cute to see him glare at his friends for it. What makes you even happier is the fact that he doesn't mind being seen- he still makes sure you're always comfortable, checks in if you want to leave or if you're cold or if you're tired.

Right now, he's got you sat on his thigh, as he's sitting on the sidewalk- when there seems to be some tension rising, multiple wolves now moving to stand almost protectively in front of the rest. "Hey- stay here for a second yeah? I'll just check what's up." He says, helping you stand near his bike, before he leaves to do just what he said.

The way his tail suddenly rises, standing straight back, shows you that he's in an aggressive-defensive stance.

Somethings going on.

But it's resolved with simple glares from the pack, as Jungkook returns later to offer you your helmet. "Let's get you home, okay?" He says, and you nod, letting him help you with the helmet itself. "Don't worry, by the way. There's just some tension- and I'd like to.. not have you in the crossfire." He chuckles.

That's a nice thing to do, actually. He seems very much interested in your well-being, and that's new to you. But it's nice. Feeling like you're special.

Back at your home, he's helping you off his bike, taking the helmet from you- and you can't help yourself, as you unhook his own helmet with a click, before you slip it off his head, and lean in to kiss him.

It's a quick one, his helmet pushed into his hands as you run off into your home-

One look back making you laugh, as you see him frozen it appears like, tail wildly wagging behind him.

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He's awfully cocky next time he visits you, instantly leaning down as you open the door to let him in. "What? Do I only get goodbye-kisses?" He complains, and you giggle, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

And he growls at that, though his wagging tail reassures you there's no anger behind it.

"You have to earn it." You say, and he glares at you.

"Isn't my giant crush on you enough?" He wonders, and you laugh.

"Maybe?" You shrug, putting on your jacket. "Well.. I'll think about it after the date." You tease and he grins.

"Well in that case, I'll be getting a ton of kisses after tonight." He beams at you, proudly so.

And you're sure of it.

He already earned himself quite a few.

[munsonsreputation]

hi kay my love!!! congrats on 500 followers! as per usual, i have a request… a noah and steve request!

"I'll keep the nightmares at bay; just rest for now; I got you, I'll be here when you wake up." — you’re very anxious with uni exams and you decide to call steve. it’s middle of the night and for a second he thinks you’re in trouble, but then you explain you can’t sleep and when you do, you have nightmares. when you hang up, steve drives to your house (maybe the fic starts here) and tries to sneak in, but Noah can’t keep his presence a secret. you ask Steve what he’s doing, fluffy talk and he sleeps with you

do your magic, i bet it’s gonna be amazing. love you 💙

hey effie!!

my apologies that this took so long but i hope i did it justice!!! thank you so much for all the love and support that you give to me daily!!! our friendship means so much to me and i hope you love this!! 💘💘💘

The luminous green light from the clock sitting on your desk scorched your eyes. It was nearly three in the morning and you were more than exhausted. On the verge of a mental breakdown, actually.

You had been studying for your university exam for hours. Ass glued to your desk chair and eyes boring holes into the textbook and notes you’d been flipping through. Your sweet dog Noah, fast asleep on the floor beside your feet, as he kept you company while you studied.

You wished you could be fast asleep as well.

You were tired.

So. very. tired.

But you couldn’t find it in yourself to get up.

These exams weighed heavily on your grade and you couldn’t risk missing any points. You had worked so hard to ace these final exams so that you could finally enjoy a break and get this whole thing over with.

But you didn’t know your limits, or at least were horrible at setting those boundaries with yourself. You tended to overwork yourself, and tonight was one of those instances. You wished Steve was here to scold you and tell carry you into bed, but of course you had convinced him that you would be alright and wouldn’t overdo it.

But here you were almost in tears, delirious as you reached your phone and dialed in the numbers you remembered by heart with salty drops already falling down your cheeks as you heard the rings.

“H-hello?” He had just woken up, clearly by the cracking and hoarseness in his voice.

Immediately, you sobbed, loud sniffles cutting in from the other side of the line that got Steve springing up from his bed and wide awake.

“S-steve,” your voice cracked, your sobs getting louder as you wiped your tears, “I—I need you.”

He threw the sheets off his body, shoulder keeping the phone glued to his ears as he tried to search for a shirt to throw on. He caught the time on his clock, immediately even more concerned now considering the hour that you were supposed to be asleep, but instead here you were crying to him over the phone where he could do nothing but let the worse come to mind.

Did someone get into your house?

Did you have a nightmare?

Was something bothering you?

Were you hurt?

Fuck! If you were hurt, then he needed to hurry.

“What going on? Baby—talk to me, are you hurt?”

Mentally. Totally.

Your brained was fried.

You shook your head as if he could see you, swallowing the hiccups that forced itself out, “No, I’m not hurt…I just need you, Steve.”

You heard a little more rustling in the background, before it became clearer, “I’ll be right over, just give me a few minutes, doll.”

“Okay…drive safe, please.” You said softly, trying to calm your crying as you knew help was on the way in no time.

The jingling of his keys was the last thing you heard before his voice, “Always, babe. See you soon.”

You hung up the phone, taking a deep breath as you closed your eyes. The tears still spilling, yet you seemed to get it a bit under control, focusing on the notes on your desk. Attempting to read off the last few bullet points through your blurry eyes, which was absolutely ridiculous, but you were never one to give up so easily.

Your crying had progressed so much that Noah had woken up. Cuddled up by your legs as you reached down with one hand, attempting to comfort him and let him know that you were ok, even though you knew your doggie could feel that you weren’t.

This seemed to be the only time tonight where you tore your eyes away from the pages, but it wasn’t until you heard the key turn in the doorway that you felt like getting up from your desk chair. It was only a few moments later where Steve slowly turned the knob to your bedroom door, staring at you with concern in the doorway.

or the first time that night, you got up from your seat.

The second Steve got into your bedroom he knew you’d be crying once again. You always softened up when he was around, like he was your safe space. And he was so very grateful that you picked him as a safe space.

And he was right, hearing your soft sniffles, and how you sneaked your hand up to your cheek to wipe your cheeks, “Baby…”

You turned slowly towards him, immediately walking into his chest where he had his arms held out, before engulfing you in his cages. You cried into his t-shirt, soaking the fabric with your tears, fingers tightening around his back where you held onto him for dear life.

His eyes scanned around the room, eyes drawn to the mess on your desk filled with scattered pens and papers. Noah had also gone back to his usual spot, knowing that he was around and would make sure that you were ok for the rest of the night. Suddenly, it became clear that studying was what got you here. He had spoken to you over the phone a few hours ago, just before he went to bed around eleven. You had told him you’d only be studying for a half an hour more and then you’d get to beauty sleep.

Of course you didn’t.

“Honey, shhh, you gotta take a deep breath.” He guided your head away enough so he could see you.

Mimicking breathing for you to follow as he clutched your cheeks and thumbed away the tears ever if they didn’t stop anytime soon.

“I—I’m sorry,” you whimpered, tightly shutting your eyes, feeling so embarrassed for waking him and making him come all the way here.

“Hey, no, none of that.” His lips met your forehead, pecking the skin and grounding you. “don’t apologize, I’m so glad you called me.”

Your eyes opened, meeting his brown orbs that looked down at you, “You just gotta talk to me, doll…tell me what’s going on?”

He reached behind him, unwrapping your hands from him and holding yours in his hands, where he led you towards your bed. Honestly, your bed never felt so comfortable than right now. The blankets and pillows cushioning you as Steve pulled the sheets back and led you in. You watched him for a second; him toeing off his shoes before getting into bed beside you.

His arms wrapped across your midsection, slotting himself against you where you felt the most safe and comfortable, “I—I’m so scared of failing….I’ve been studying for hours and no matter how hard I try to get the stupid concept...I just don’t…”

Your voice failed the rest of the sentence, instead the words just slowly crumbling with you as you held on tighter to Steve.

He felt the urgency and anxiety in your hold, knowing this feeling all to well since it had happened before, “Sweet girl, you’ve gotta get some rest, you’re killing yourself over this and it’s not good for you.”

“But…but finals is in a few days and if I don’t—”

He squeezed you a little firmer, cutting off your sentence as he laid a kiss on top of your forehead. “But nothing.” Steve started, staring at you through the pale moonlight with softness and firmness laced in his voice.

“I’ll keep it all at bay for the night, and I need you to rest for now,” his gentle fingers brushing back your tear soaked hair away from your face, “I got you, and I’ll be here in the morning then we can figure this all out together ok?”

Again, sniffles filled the room for a short while, as you didn’t know if you could speak of your gratefulness without breaking out into sobs again. There was just something so endearing and comforting about Steve being here for you in moments like these. Even if the stress and anxiety was all in your head, he always knew how to ground you and keep you from diving deeper into the negative feelings.

“I love you.” You whispered faintly, closing your eyes and digging your face deeper into his chest where you felt the safest from your worries and thoughts.

You could feel his smile as he whispered it back to you, “I love you more,” and his arms never daring to unwrap from your body, keeping you safe from the nightmares of what could have been.

That even if there was a chance that tomorrow could be a repeat of tonight, that he’d be here. He always would and he would never let you go through it alone.

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[i--am--the--sheep]

If I Don't Sleep (I'll Never Dream) [ch 4]

read fic warnings and find other chapters here

Rei’s sleep started dreamless.  He wishes it would have stayed that way.

It starts with memories of the dogs.  Rei always had cared for animals.  It was his father’s first lesson – don’t care for anything but yourself.  He hears them before he sees them, snapping and growling on their chains.  They were raised to fight – aggression sewn into their sinews and soaked into their bones by a life of torture.  They were alive for the same reason as he was: violence.

His father takes him outside, pressing a knife into his palm.  He’s silent, but the look in his eyes is clear.  Only one of you will leave this field.  The dream turns into a flurry of pain, and blood, and gore, before the scene suddenly changes with the loud ringing of a gunshot.  He failed.

Things shift.  He’s staring down at Kazuki’s mutilated, bullet-riddled body.  He’s covered with blood.  The gun is in his hand.  This is his fault, he’s killed the one person he cares about.  He can hear a child crying – Miri?  

“Papa?”  He looks up, sees her cowering in the corner, weeping and spattered in crimson.  He can feel himself reach to her, hold her, comfort her, something, and she yelps.  Her arms are over her head, shielding herself as best she can.  “Please, papa,” is all she can cry out before her form fades and dissolves into dust.  

Things shift again.  He’s trapped, backed into a corner.  His father, his boss, is stalking towards him.  Suddenly, Rei is seventeen again, and he’s just fucked up his first big kill.  He’s certain that this is it.  This is the time the beating goes too far, the knife goes to deep, the blood flows too readily.  And he’s terrified.  He’s back to being some scared kid.  He’s sure everything and everyone is out to hurt him – the world, his father, himself.   

“Rei!”  His father’s voice is overwhelming, an all-encompassing storm of rage and wrath.  He gets close.  “Rei!  Rei!” 

He wakes with a start.  Someone is shaking his shoulders.  “Jesus, are you okay?” 

It’s sheer instinct.  One hand is around his assailant’s throat in a heartbeat, the other reaching for the weapons stowed beneath his pillow.  He doesn’t find one.

“Hey, hey, its me!”  A familiar voice barks at him, and Rei’s eyes focus in, his heart thudding in his chest.  Kazuki.  His hand recoils.

“You’re in my room, remember?  I don’t keep stuff there.”  Kazuki nods to where Rei’s hand is still under the pillow, grasping for some sort of knife or gun.  “They’re usually in the nightstand.  Moved ‘em though, you’re jumpy as all hell.”

Rei’s pulse slows, and he grumbles an apology that Kazuki wasn’t concerned about receiving.  

“Nah, my fault for waking you.  You were shaking pretty badly, wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Rei knows Kazuki doesn’t usually pry unless he needs to.  He could shrug, give absolutely no answer, and the two of them would return to whatever they were doing.  But that seems hurtful, after all Kazuki has done, after what they’ve been through.  Rei doesn’t think he cares about being hurtful.  Maybe he does with Kazuki.

On the other end, talking, sharing, seems daunting.  It makes his stomach churn.  Things like this stir up such a strong reaction from him.  He figures its probably because the other times he brought anything like this up at his father’s house, he’d get beaten within an inch of his life.  His bones ache just thinking about it.  

He ponders for a moment, thinking.  

“Nightmare.”  Just enough information to make Kazuki happy, not so much that Rei would throw up.  Kazuki hummed in acknowledgement.  Silence stretches on for a bit before Kazuki pipes up.

“Can I touch?”  He always asks.  Rei sometimes nods.  Today is one of those sometimes.

Kazuki moves behind him, and Rei expects him to maybe untangle the knots in his hair, or dig his thumbs into the knots in his shoulders.  He’s not expecting to have his partner draped over his back, chin resting on Rei’s shoulder.  Kazuki’s all lean muscle, heavy on his spine, and it feels nice.  Grounding.  

“Kyu said Miri’s been asking for you.  Wants to know when she can come play Mario Kart.”

Rei huffs out half a snicker, bittersweet at the thought of her.  “Does… Does she know?”

“Kyu told her you got hurt in an accident.  That’s all.”  

“...When will she be back?”

Kazuki barks out a laugh.  “What, don’t tell me you miss that little devil?”

Most days, he would have backpedaled.  Taken it back, sworn he didn’t care to keep up appearances.  But its just them, and Kazuki’s weight on his back feels safe.

“Maybe a little.”  Kazuki doesn’t tease or goad, just nods.

“Me too.  Kyu won’t let her stay for too long.  He gets sick of making smoothies and shakes for her.  Just… Just need to make sure everyone is okay first.”

Rei knows that’s mostly about him.  He doesn’t ever feel okay.  Hasn’t for a while.  Doesn’t really feel okay now.  

It does feel a little bit better than usual though, here in Kazuki’s arms.

[fonulyn]

Hi, do you have any advice for a 'first time' writer? I've been writing little things for myself for over a decade but never actually wanted to post anything online until now. my issue has been that although I have a general idea of I what I want to write, I only have loose paraghaps and little snippets that I want to include in my story. I don't have the experience of writing full chapters or even doing a sketch to guide myself, y'know? Any advice will do!

it depends on what you want to do with the story, really! a story consisting of little snippets is a perfectly valid type of story, too. i've written multiple fics where it's just short moments that are loosely connected into a bigger narrative.

also, you can start small. a fic doesn't have to have a set length, and you don't need to start out with multichaptered fics, you can start with short oneshots! i definitely did! i wrote short slice-of-life things for a good while before i started doing plottier things. i did a LOT of oneshots before I did any multichaptered works. work your way up to it! no one is born ready, and practice is never a bad thing :)

there's no rule that says you need to write every single thing that happens, either. you can just do enough filling stuff to connect the things you want to write in a way that makes sense. I've often cut out things I first thought were needed but then upon consideration decided I could just skip over. don't weigh yourself down with stuff you feel obligated to do and focus on the things you enjoy.

as for a sketch/outline/whatever, it also depends on a person, what works for one might not work for another. personally i use bullet point lists. and i add thoughts and snippets and dialogue options in there too whenever i think of something i'd like to use! like... here's the outline for one of the fics in the self-indulgent series of mine:

then here's a couple other examples (spoilers for not-posted fic :'D first is in the mutant-babies series the second is my nivannedy re2 childhood friends au which i should maybe post the first chapter for shhhh):

so even for me it varies a bit depending on what kind of fic i'm working on and how much thoughts i already have when i start. but sometimes my outline also looks like this:

and then i'll fill in those ????s either when I get a genius (ha!) idea, when I get to that part, or at the very very end when I've written everything else. OR then i figure out a way to just cut it out :'D

for me the main thing is to write down the things i DO know will happen, write down the specific sentences or dialogue bits that i think of and like, so i won't forget everything. and then I add the "something???" bits when I feel like there needs to be something between two things and i can't just go from one to another. pacing is important, for the fic to read well, but it's also something one shouldn't worry about at first, you'll get the hang of it in time.

if you have someone you can talk to about the story it also helps tremendously. it's one reason i've been struggling to write lately bc i lost my go-to person. but any amount of brainstorming, or maybe just explaining it to someone, will make figuring things out easier. sometimes i talk about the story to my dog lol. saying it out loud or writing it as an explanation to someone else often helps!

i don't really know if any of this is helpful at all? if you've got further questions or anything, feel free to poke me! but i hope something here helps a little :) and the most important advice? HAVE FUN!! :D

[xenia-cenia]

Hii actually i already request this somewhere but i really want to read a different version of everyone about this idea but if it's uncomfortable with u than it's okay☺ soo may i request a fic about a reader who got isekaied into BSD? and the reader loves Dazai so much and wants to be there for him through everything, the reader knows that they can't change Dazai but still wants to be there with him as moral support and eventhough dazai push the reader away, they still smile kindly at Dazai and still be there with him until the end (with kinda romantic feeling blossom😳), actually i'm still hurting with what happened to Dazai in BSD beast and wants nothing but to hug him😭 i don't mind if u want to write about ADA Dazai or Beast Dazai🤧 if it's possible i hope u can make it😭 Thank you so muchh im sorry it's too long😭

A/N-i may of had too much fun with this

Breaking this up into 2 parts because I have a lot of ideas for this! Sorry that this part isn’t exactly what you wanted, but I promise it’ll end happily.

Trigger/Content Warnings: Derealization (I think?), spoilers, suicide mentions/jokes (its dazai), swearing

Part two

Word Count: 1,230

You flipped through the near-memorized pages of your favorite manga, sighing at a familiar face. Dazai Osamu - you weren't quite sure why you liked him so much. Maybe it was sympathy. Maybe it was his pretty face.

Once again, he was idly talking about the 'ideal suicide' while Atsushi listened uncomfortably.

"I wish I could help you..." you mumbled absent-mindedly, "like how you helped me." As you spoke, you laid your finger on his picture and shut your eyes.

When you opened your eyes, you noticed instantly something was wrong. Wind was blowing on your face, and you could hear cars roaring nearby. You sat up - had your head been pounding earlier? - and tried to figure out what just happened.

"Am I dead?" You wondered out loud.

"A beauty like you, dying alone? No, I could never let it happen!" A voice cried out from nearby. Your head snapped in the direction of the voice, and your eyes widened.

"Da... zai?"

"Oh my," he took his hands out of his pockets and shook his head, and walking up to you, "Have we met before?"

"No! I mean..." you choked on your spit. "Yes?"

He stopped walking and eyed you. "Are you lost?"

'Lost' was an understatement. You weren't quite certain you weren't hallucinating.

After an awkward silence, you smiled thoughtfully at Dazai, "Yes, actually. Do you happen to know where a nearby private investigator's office might be?"

Atsushi popped up from behind Dazai, "Oh! We work at one - we can take you there if you'd like!"

"Perfect." You looked at Atsushi and felt a pang of sadness. He didn't deserve the hurt he went through, either. You wished you could help all of them overcome their trauma and become happier. But you knew that would be far too hard for just one person, so you decided to set your sights on Dazai instead.

I'll help you, you thought to yourself, I'll show you there are things to hold on to. Just like you did for me.

Atsushi helped you up and the three of you walked down the streets of Yokohama. It was strange to walk down the streets you'd seen so often in Bungo Stray Dogs. It was even stranger to meet the characters.

Kunikida was the first person you saw in the office. He was furiously typing, undoubtedly making precise and intricately detailed reports.

"Ku~ ni~ ki~ da~" Dazai sang as he danced into the office, "Look what we found!"

"A clue we need to solve our current job?" Kunikida didn't even look up, you could barely see his fingers moving.

"No, but-"

"Then I don't care."

"Agh! You're so cruel. Atsushi, tell him what we found!"

Atsushi jumped, "A-Ah, me? Oh, okay! Dazai and I were searching and we didn't find anything... b-but we found a person!"

"A person who has a vital clue?"

"P-Probably not..."

"An escaped hostage from the people we're tracking?"

"I... ah... I don't think so."

"ANYTHING related to this case?"

"I'm not." You finally spoke up. "But, if you tell me what case you're working on, I can tell you everything you need to know."

Kunikida slowly relaxed into his chair and spun towards you, "And how can we trust you?"

Oh shit. I did not think this far ahead.

"Well- I- ah... I have an ability! I can solve any case and tell you everything you need to know about it!"

"Everything? Anything?" Dazai piped up.

You turned to face him and smiled, "Everything." You repeated kindly.

"E-Even Dazais previous job!?" Atsushi pushed past Dazai and grabbed your shoulders.

You laughed softly, "You really want that reward, huh?"

"How do you know about that?" Kunikida stood up and grabbed his notebook.

"W-Wait!" You raised your hands in the air, "I-It's just my ability! Remember?"

"And what's your ability called?" Kunikida scrutinized.

You looked between Dazai and Atsushi and responded with the first thing that popped into your head, "Stray Dogs."

Dazai stiffened before looking at you with amusement in his eyes. "What a peculiar name." 

With a soft smile, you turned back to Kunikida and cleared your throat, “Is... Is Ranpo here?’

“Hm?” Kunikida turned away from you and checked an itinerary on his desk, “Ranpo will be back in... five minutes.”

You sighed in relief. “Oh, thank goodness. I need to talk to him about... something...”

“My, my.” Dazai laughed in a friendly tone, “I’m almost jealous. Has our boy detective finally landed a partner?” When you turned to him, however, you noticed sinister intent in his eyes. 

He knows. 

"It’s nothing like that, Mr. Detective.” You tried to put on your most convincing smile, “It’s just a silly issue, really.” 

“Ah, please. Call me Dazai. Or,” he lightly grabbed your hand and kneeled in front of you, “join the call of death with me.” His innocent voice juxtaposed his morbid words. 

You squeezed his hand and looked into his eyes, “If you had asked me that not so long ago, I would’ve said yes.”

“Oh!” He exclaimed, dramatically falling to the ground as if he were wounded, “Another lovely potential double-suicide partner taken from me!”

“Get off the ground, idiot.” Kunikida muttered while typing away at his computer. 

“The Great Detective has returned!” An all too comforting voice filled the room. You turned on your heels and saw exactly the person you were waiting for. 

“Detective.” You stepped over Dazai and crossed the room so you were face-to-face with him, “Would you mind assisting me on a case?”

“Assisting?” He scoffed. “I don’t ‘assist’.”

“Then help me. Please.” 

He cracked open his eyes and looked you up and down. “Huh.” Without any warning, he grabbed you by the arm and dragged you towards the elevator while yelling excuses to the confused members of the Agency.

The two of you walked for a few minutes before he sat down on a park bench and patted the spot next to him. You nervously sat down, hoping his intellect would save you the explanation. 

“You can’t do it.” His voice was soft.

“What?”

“We’ve all tried to save him. It’s impossible. Save your time.”

“But- I- I came from a different dimension! If that’s possible, surely so is-”

Ranpo sighed and leaned into the bench, his head resting over the back. “You can’t rewrite The Book.”

“The- how do you know about that?” You looked at him in shock. 

He lazily turned his head and looked at you, “Super Genius Detective, duh.” Ranpo tapped his temple to punctuate his point. 

“Ah... I guess that’s fair. But still. Why can’t I save Dazai? Who wrote that into The Book?”

Ranpo laughed dryly, “Don’t be stupid. Who could have written it in The Book? Who hates Dazai enough to ensure he’ll suffer forever?”

“Chuuya, maybe?” You spoke, deep in thought. “Maybe one of the Hunting Dogs! You... haven’t met them, I don’t think. What case are you working on?”

“The ADA is solving the mystery behind the Azure Bomber.” Ranpo blew a piece of hair out of his face, “But that doesn’t matter to you. C’mon, (Y/N), think about it. Is there anybody in the world who thinks Dazai needs to suffer forever, other than Dazai himself?”

Your blood ran cold. How did he even- no, that doesn’t matter. “It’s useless.” You spoke in a breathy whisper. “It’s all useless.”

[reidgraygubler]

going in blind (luke alvez/reader)

{image id: gif of luke alvez holding two long sleeved button ups, the one on the left is gray and the one on the right is blue. A german shepard is in the foreground. the caption reads “the blue or the grey? hmm?” end image id}

Title: Going In Blind

Request: No

Couple: Luke Alvez with Visually Impaired Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warning: swearing (if any), mentions of service/guide animals, mentions of serving in the army, brief mentions of PTSD, blind/visually impared!reader, if I missed anything or something else needs to be tagged, please message me and I will fix that! 

Word Count: 2,885

Summary: Penelope sets Luke up on a blind date with one of her friends… What could possibly go wrong…?

Author’s Note: Welcome to day two of my 7 fics in 7 days event! We have more firsts with this piece of work. I tried my hardest to make this be screen reader-friendly, if this has any problems with that, please let me know. This also blocks off a square on my third (i know) bingo card. It’s for the blind date square on the @cmbingo​ card! Thank you all so much for the love and support!  Check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

“Are you on tinder?” Penelope asked, looking over Luke’s shoulder. Luke was quick, jumping as he put his phone face down on his desk. 

“What? No!” He looked over at his friend and colleague. He swallowed roughly, knowing that there was no way out of this one. Penelope already had the tools to find the truth. There was really no use hiding that from a woman like Penelope. Even if she wasn’t one of the best hackers he knew, Penelope would have worked it out of him no matter what. 

“It looked like you were on tinder, Newbie,” she glared at him as she crossed her arms over her chest. Luke looked down at his phone for a brief moment, before looking up at his friend.

“He’s definitely doing something,” Spencer chimed in, looking away from his book. “He’s been picking up his phone and looking at it every other minute. That’s not an exaggeration,” he spoke looking back down at his book. Penelope looked back down at Luke with an excited smile. 

“Yes, fine, I was on Tinder. It’s been awhile since things ended with Lisa and I wanted to… put myself out there, as some would say,” Luke spoke as he gestured towards his phone, “and, tinder is a viable way of doing that,” he looked up at his friend and shrugged. 

“What if I set you up on a blind date?" Penelope smiled as she looked down at her co-worker. 

“I… I guess… you can do that," he replied, furrowing his eyebrows. He wasn't too sure what to expect from Penelope when it came to a blind date. 

“Oh sweetness! I know the perfect person!” Penelope clapped her hands together as she looked back at Luke. "I'll give them your number! And then you guys can plan a date or something!" she looked down at her friend with excitement. 

{***}

"Roxy, blue or gray?" Luke looked at the German Shepard that was sitting on his bed. Roxy tilted her head to the side as she looked at her owner. Luke groaned as he looked at his pet, tossing both the shirts to his bed. He looked at the two clothing items before picking up the navy blue shirt and holding it to his chest. 

“Blue might be best. Who doesn’t love blue?” he looked over at Roxxy with a smile before changing into the shirt. “Alright, Roxxy, wish me luck,” Luke whispered as he rubbed the dog’s head. With one last look at the animal, Luke left, hoping to make it there on time. 

Unfortunately for him, time was not on his side and traffic ended up being his new friend. And when he did finally make it to the restaurant, he was a few minutes late. He rushed to the table, hoping they’d still be there.

“So sorry I’m late, I was trying to pick what color of shirt to wear and then traffic was a nightmare on the way here,” Luke chuckled as he sat down at the table across from them. They smiled and nodded, folding their hands over the table.

“Oh, oh it’s okay, really. I was a little nervous myself,” they laughed as they lifted a hand to their chest as they spoke. Luke looked at them and smiled. He silently prayed that this date wouldn’t crash and burn like previous dates he had been on.

But, little did he know, they were doing the same thing. They couldn’t even count how many dates they had gone on that failed harder than a teen who didn’t study for a test. They went into this date expecting it to have a bad outcome.

“Which color did you pick?” they asked like it was no big deal, like maybe he already knew the biggest, most obvious fact about them. They would have assumed that Penelope told him.

“Well, I, uh, I wore the blue shirt… I wasn’t sure which color to wear,” Luke laughed, watching as they started playing with their hands. 

“So that’s what color it is,” they laughed lightly before blinking. The smile they had on their lips was very genuine. They were excited. Of course they were excited, someone was going on a date with them. And, so far so good, right?

Or, so they thought...

“I don’t… I don’t get it… Am I missing something,” Luke furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at them. They had their hands resting in their lap. As a certain nervousness took over, they began pulling at their fingers, popping each knuckle. 

“Did Penelope not tell you,” they nervously chuckled, blinking slowly as they shifted in their seat. 

“Tell me…? Tell me what?” 

“I’m blind,” they chuckled again. The silence that fell between both of them was tense. It was obvious that Luke had no clue that they were blind. Of course, they went into this blind date knowing whoever it was might not have known it was a literal blind date. It wouldn’t have been the first, or last, time Penelope left that detail out. 

“Oh… Oh… I’m… I’m so sorry,” Luke muttered as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. They laughed and shook their head.

“It’s okay. Really, it’s fine. I knew Penelope probably didn’t tell you,” they chuckled lightly before shrugging.

“I don’t know why Penelope didn’t mention that you… you’re blind,” Luke laughed as he brought his glass to his lips. They laughed and shook their head.

“I honestly wouldn’t put it past her… Wouldn’t be the first time she’s done that to me,” they smiled, reaching their hand out to feel for their glass of water. “Well, I’m not totally blind. I can see shapes if they’re being backlit. So, like if someone was standing in front of the sun,” their smiled and nodded before bringing the glass to their lips. After taking a sip, they carefully placed the cup back on the table. “Does that make sense?” they cocked their head to the side.

“Yeah, yeah it makes sense,” Luke nodded as he looked at them, “So, I picked a pretty good spot then, huh?” he asked as he realized that he was facing away from the sun. 

“Well, I was the one who picked the spot, silly,” they couldn’t help but laugh. Luke felt somewhat comforted by their laughter, laughing lightly in return. “I knew the window seat would help me in that. It’s nice having the shape of my date,” they kept laughing. In their head that made sense, but thinking back about it now, they weren’t too sure if it made sense out loud. 

“How… How did you go blind? If you don’t mind me asking,” Luke asked, his voice soft as he spoke. He wasn’t too sure if it was insensitive to ask that, but he was genuinely curious. If he didn’t find out through them, he would have just asked Penelope. 

“Oh, uh, yeah you can ask,” they laughed again. Luke smiled, it was clear he really liked their laughter. Part of him was happy they couldn’t see how he looked at them. But the other part of him was upset that he couldn’t share the same things he saw with them. “I went blind when I was really young. I was like 5. If it wasn’t a million dollar word that you probably didn’t understand, I’d say it. But, I basically went blind because of an illness,” they smiled and nodded. 

“Wow, I… I can’t even imagine…” Luke started but let his words trail off. Of course, how would anyone ever imagine being blind at such a young age? But they’ve heard that from so many people, and not just people they went on dates with, but friends, nurses, strangers on the street, and even family. They didn’t let it bother them though. 

“Yeah, the number of times I’ve heard that,” they shrugged as they reached out for their glass of water again, “Trust me, it’s fine. I’ve been blind all my life, basically. I’m like a professional at it or something,” a small snicker came from them. 

“Do you have a service animal?” Luke asked, watching as they expertly placed their water back down. 

“His name is Pickles,” they smiled as they dropped their head down, “He’s a Labradoodle,” they felt happiness spread through their body as they talked more about their pet. Although, he was more than just a pet, than just a dog to them. Pickles was basically their best friend and family. 

“I bet your Pickles and my Roxxy would be great friends,” Luke enthused with a laugh. Their head jerked up as if they looked at him the second he mentioned having a dog. 

“Is Roxy a service animal?” they asked, resting their hands on the table. Luke smiled and nodded.

“Roxy helps with my PTSS…” he supplied a proper answer when he realized they didn’t see the nod. 

“Oh my goodness,” they whispered, a sudden anxiety grew in their stomach as they thought of what to say next. But, they didn’t really know what to say. 

“It’s all good now. Roxy’s my best friend. I’d be lost without her,” Luke swallowed roughly before nodding again.

“When did you serve? Where did you serve?” they asked, cocking their head to their shoulder. 

“Uh, several years ago now. I served as part of the 75th Rangers  in Iraq… with the U.S. Army,” his words got quiet as he spoke, but they were just loud enough for them to hear. They smiled and nodded.

“Thank you for your service, Luke,” the date whispered with a soft smile, “And now you work for the FBI."

“Yep! And now I work for the FBI,” Luke laughed and nodded, “Wouldn’t trade it for anything. My team is like my family,” 

“You know, that wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard somebody say that. Penelope speaks so fondly of you,” his companion smiled as they ran their hand across the tablecloth. Their shoulders relaxed as they felt the fabric beneath their fingertips. “Well, she speaks fondly of everyone she knows, so I suppose it’s hard to judge that. But, she does talk about you and your team a lot. More often than anything else. Other than Sergio, of course,” they laughed, which in turn caused Luke to laugh. 

“You’re not wrong. She really does talk about everyone she meets like they’ve done no wrong,” he agreed with a soft laugh. 

“Which is impressive in her line of work, because of everything she sees. But I think that’s something Penelope and I have in common. I think too good of people. I think it would be too hard to work in the FBI, though,” they wrinkled their nose. “I’ve met some pretty shitty people but not serial killers… Not that bad,” they shrugged and dropped their shoulders. 

Thankfully the moment was saved when the waitress came up to the table and took Luke and his date’s order. Playing it safe, they got spaghetti with sauce and cheese. Where as Luke ordered steak with vegetables. 

“That sounds yummy. Hopefully it’s as good as it sounds,” they smiled and nodded. “Sorry I was intense about talking nice about other people. I don’t know. Working for the FBI sounds like it’d be cool, but very exhausting.” 

“It is… It can be mentally and emotionally draining,” Luke nodded as he leaned over the table, resting his elbows on the edge to keep himself up. “But, it makes up for itself… See people be reunited with their families… It’s worth it then,” he nodded as he thought about previous cases he worked on. 

“I’d never be able to do that,” they blinked before shaking their head, “I don’t know how Penelope does it,” 

“A lot of courage. She surprises me everyday,” he laughed. This time it was their turn to appreciate his laughter. Though they couldn’t exactly see his face, they could imagine what was in front of them. The happiness and love he had for a friend. Luke’s date loved that he loved his friends like they were family. 

“Anyways, enough about me and my work…” Luke cleared his throat as he watched his date rest their elbows on the table. “Tell me about you. Like, uh… What kind of music do you listen to?” he raised an eyebrow.

{***}{***}{***}

“You should have taken her seriously when she said blind date," Luke’s date chuckled lightly as the two of them walked down a cobblestone path. Their arm carefully rested on Luke's as they walked. Their other hand held their cane, tapping it across the ground in front of them. 

"I agree, wasn't expecting it to be a literal blind date," Luke returned the chuckle, "But I had fun," he added as he looked down at his date.

"I did too. I'm kinda glad Penelope didn't tell you I'm blind," they laughed nervously. Truth be told, they were scared Luke would have ditched them. It’s happened before, what's not stopping it from happening again? They couldn't count how many times it has happened.

Luke abruptly stopped in his tracks as he looked down at his date. It caught them off guard, forcing them to turn and face him.

"What? Why'd we stop? Did something happen?" As the grip they had on his arm softened a little bit, the grip on their cane tightened. A certain fear filled their body, not sure what was happening at the moment.

"You know…” Luke started, pausing for a moment to find his words. The date pulled their hand from Luke’s arm as they turned to face him more. “I would have come whether Penelope told me you were blind or not," he continued, lifting a hand and resting it on their shoulder. They jumped slightly, not expecting the friendly gesture. 

“I know… Well, actually, I don’t know. Because you wouldn’t be the first person to say that to me,” they swallowed roughly before dropping their head to the ground, “The number of failed dates I’ve gone on… Is a little embarrassing… And, the number of people who knew I was blind before the date and ditched… Is even worse,” they whispered as they stepped back away from Luke. Luke furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at his date. He couldn’t figure out why someone would ditch someone as cool as them. So what if they couldn’t see as well as others, or at all? They still deserved to be treated like a normal human. 

“You don’t deserve that,” he muttered as he stared at his date. They smiled and nodded, already knowing that. “And, frankly, this is the best date I’ve been on in a long time,” 

“I’m glad to hear that. It was a pretty good date for me too,” they smiled, as their hand returned to his arm. “Where are we anyways?” they took a deep breath and shuffled closer to his body. 

“Down the street from your apartment,” he replied, looking down the street. 

“Did Penelope give you my address?” they tilted their head up to him as they spoke. Luke’s date wouldn’t put it past Penelope, honestly. They expected it. 

“Yeah, she said I should pick you up. But you said you would take an Uber…” he replied with a nod, “When we left the restaurant, I parked a few blocks away from your apartment, so we could walk… And so this date wouldn’t end,” he laughed lightly. His date couldn’t stop the large smile growing on their lips, feeling their heart pitter-pattering quickly in their chest. 

“You really mean that,” they stopped tapping their cane across the ground as they began trusting Luke. 

“We'll have to do this again,” his date laughed as they turned to face Luke, “I had a lot of fun tonight,”  

“Of course I mean that. I told you...This is the best date I’ve been on in a while,” Luke laughed as he sensed their new level of trust in him.

“I wish this night didn’t have to end,” they said with a bubbly smile. Luke enjoyed the excitement of his date and hummed in agreement. Even though they both wished the night could keep going, the two walked in a comfortable and warm silence to their apartment.

“Yes! We will. Maybe we can walk Pickles and Roxy in the park,” Luke smiled as he looked down at them. 

And just as he got to the bottom step of the small staircase, he stopped for a brief moment before turning to his date. “I’ll see you later,” Luke smiled at them. 

“I won’t,” the blind date smiled as they rested their hand on the railing beside them. Luke froze when he realized his verbal mistake. His mouth opening slightly as he looked up at them with shock in his eyes.

“Aw man, I totally fudged that, didn’t I?” he pointed at the date before shoving his hands in his pockets. They laughed and shook their head.

“No, no, don’t worry. It’s fine. I thought it was funny. It happens all the time, actually,” them smiled and nodded, “I better let you go. It was nice meeting you, Luke,” they grasped their cane with both their hands as they turned to face him more.

“I’ll definitely call you,” 

“I’ll definitely text you,” the date grinned before turning and entering their apartment. 

if you want to be a part of a taglst or have any comments about this one shot, let me know here

taglist: @mggsprettygirl​ , @thebluetint​

[shysneeze]

phases of falling in love (ginny weasley x fem!reader)

Description: the painful process of reader falling for her Ginny Weasley, her best friend.

Warnings: angst af, I can’t think of anything else specific but please let me know if you come across anything and I’ll add it

Authors note: in love by khai dreams and she by dodie fit this in my head and are worth a listen.( edit, : i have a playlist here that fits this entire fic) . 

 ...

(Y/N) has decided that falling in love comes in three distinct phases: realisation, denial, and acceptance, though with various forms of panic in between.

No one’s ever boasted that falling in love is easy, the bitter angst of doing so the subject of too many pieces of literature to be doubted. Yet, no one’s ever told her it would be this hard, but she supposes the stakes were always going to be higher when it’s your best friend.

Realisation came first during a party, sat in a small group by the fireplace as the cheers and laughter so typical of a Gryffindor victory party raged on around them. They weren't much different from the others, talking loudly and laughing with their heads thrown back dramatically. They were discussing the game, (Y/N) thinks, though she can hardly remember now, nor was she particularly invested at the time. 

How could she be with her just across the from her, fair freckled skin aglow from the fire, who's light danced across her face with each flame’s flicker. Her hair tumbled down her shoulders effortlessly, as if it was pulled straight from the ponytail she wore during the afternoon's match.

That was the night she looked at Ginny  Weasley and felt something in her heart, longing perhaps, that went beyond mere friendship, the first night Ginny's smile made her chest tighten and her eyes finding hers with a wink made her gulp. 

It was the first time she looked at Ginny and saw her best friend but longed for more. 

Denial was easy after that, the whole thing flippantly dismissed as a fluke of the evening, blamed on the giddy feeling that accompanied the house’s victory that Ginny played such a vital part in securing. It was nothing more appreciation, awe.

Weeks later though, and the tugging in her chest still lingers, holding her hostage and controlling her every move.

It flares up unexpectedly, from a smile at lunch, a wave during matches or a laugh hidden behind textbooks during classes. There is an endless array of quirks and habits that (Y/N) has never once before paid attention to that now leave her stomach victim to butterflies and her heart to palpitations.

Yet the denial continues, excuses ranging from the outlandish to the self-deprecating. Perhaps an insensitive prank, a love potion slipped regularly into her morning orange juice, or maybe it’s just all in her head, a crush manifested from loneliness, from the desire to be loved by someone.

Excuses are easy to provide, yet even easier to disprove and it soon becomes clear that every attempt to deny her own feelings is fruitless. Acceptance looms over her, unmindful of the heart it’s about to break.

Acceptance comes reluctantly during an evening’s study in the library. There’s no blame to place on atmosphere this time, hidden together at the end of an aisle of shelves, sat across from one another at a desk most certainly made for one.

The characteristic smell of old books lingers in the air and speckles of dust are illuminated by a dim lamp as they float aimlessly around them. The light does nothing to highlight the red in Ginny’s hair the way the flames of the fire had during the party, or to draw the warm brown from her eyes,  yet (Y/N) is enamoured. 

(Y/N)'s quill hangs limply between her fingers, ink drying on the tip with a word half-finished on her parchment. Across from her, Ginny bites her lower lip in concentration, deep brown eyes scanning each word she writes, occasionally lifting her hands to fix the loose bun holding her fiery red hair from her face, ridding her eyes of the messy stray strands with a frustrated rush of air from her pink lips. 

(Y/N) gulps and panics slightly that in the quiet of the library, her best friend might hear the hammering of her heart in her chest. They're so close that their knees touch under the desk and (Y/N) is left unsure on whether to move her legs or not from fear of only drawing attention to it. 

She's trying to convince herself to act normal, that this is all normal, a scenario they've been in so many times before with procrastinated essays and last minute deadlines, that she has no reason to act any different, yet her heart races, and she can hear it in her own ears.

It’s terrifying.

She's mid inner quarrel when Ginny lets out a loud sigh of surrender and lets her quill clatter against the desk. (Y/N) blinks out of her daze, dropping her own quill in surprise and frowning at the red head. 

"Snape is asking for one of the twin's puking pastilles in his tea." She grumbles.

"They'd give you them for free if you tell them it's for Snape." (Y/N) manages a laugh. "How much more have you got to do?" 

Ginny peers at her own parchment, then at (Y/N)'s with a questioning frown, reaching over to snatch it into her hands. She examines it with arched brows and stifles a small laugh at whatever she's read. 

"Better than you- You've neglected to finish the word 'assignment', (Y/N)." She snorts softly. "It just says 'ass'." 

(Y/N) stands abruptly to grab it back from her amused friend with a quiet 'oi' and a flustered wide-eyed expression that only adds to Ginny's laughter until she's clasping her hand atop her lips to muffle the sound. 

"I got d-distracted." She explains embarrassedly. "It's just the first draft." 

"Oh no, I think you should hand it in as is." She grins. "I want to see Snape's face." 

"I'm not getting detention just so you can get a laugh." She argues. 

"Aw, come on." Ginny pouts. "Not even for me?" 

A part of her, a shameful part, almost instantly concedes to the offer, despite its teasing nature, just for Ginny's puppy dog eyes, which (Y/N) has until now been immune to. She falters for only a second before fixing her friend with a frown. 

"No, not even for you." She decides firmly. "Lets hear yours then, Gin." 

Ginny dramatically clears her throat with a grin, something that eerily reminds (Y/N) of her elder brothers, and begins to read aloud before (Y/N) stops her with an eye roll, cautious of the pacing click of Madam Pince's heels as she roams the aisles for the opportunity to evict noisy teens. 

"You'll be surprised to hear I finished all my words and never once spoke about my arse." 

"Sod off." (Y/N) rolls her eyes again. 

"Well, what’s got you so distracted you felt the need to conclude that you 'learned lots about counter curses from this ass'?" 

"You memorized it all ready?" 

"Of course." She beams cheekily. "How else am I to tell the rest of our friends?" 

"You are the worst." 

"You love me really though." 

(Y/N) worries when she can't laugh that off, when she falters for only a second, but enough to remind herself of this new and scary situation. She forces on a smile and hope she's been quick and convincing enough to seem normal, though something in Ginny's eyes tells her otherwise. 

"Are you okay, (Y/N)?" 

"Fine." 

"Hmm, you look nervous." Ginny hints. "What are you hiding? Is it a girl?" 

(Y/N) is exposed instantly by the involuntary widening of her eyes and Ginny grins menacingly at her from across the tiny desk. She leans over, palms flat against the desk and head so close to (Y/N)'s that their foreheads almost touch. 

(Y/N) forgets to breathe. 

"Who is it?" 

"No one." (Y/N) manages, edging back as subtly as possible. "It's not anyone." 

"Aw, c'mon." Ginny rolls her eyes. "Tell me." 

"You're going to make Madam Pince kick us out again." 

Ginny tuts, rolling her eyes and returning to her seat, allowing (Y/N) to drop her shoulders in relief. She sighs as she picks her quill up again, soaking the tip in ink with a rejuvenated intent to write, motivated by the chance to change the topic of conversation. 

"You're no fun." Ginny mumbles. "I'll find out." 

“There isn’t anything to find out.” (Y/N) exhales, not daring to look up from her parchment, knowing once again her expression will betray her. “Or anyone.”

“Oh, but there is.”

(Y/N) doesn’t need to look up to know the red-head is grinning, it’s evident in her voice. All she can do in response is take a deep, calming breath and continue with her work.

It’s not long before she can feel Ginny’s eyes on the top of her head and she freezes again, not sure when this became a talent of hers, to tell just from some new sixth sense that Ginny Weasley is staring at her.

“Can I help you?”

“Is it Willow Kings?”

“Been there, done that.” (Y/N) mumbles with a sigh. “She’s nice but talks about her owl too much.”

“Hmm.” Ginny hums in contemplation. “You’re not crushing on Pansy again, are you?”

In every single way, (Y/N) wishes that was her current shameful crush, rather than the girl currently interrogating her. When (Y/N) denies it, Ginny begins to hum again in thought.

“Luna?”

“Luna’s just a friend.” (Y/N) sighs, distinctly trying to convince herself the same thing about Ginny at this exact moment. “I’m not telling you, Gin.”

“Ugh, why not?” Ginny grumbles loudly.

The red-head’s face pales when the methodical clicking of the Librarian’s heels halts, wincing at what is soon to follow. The sound begins again, quicker and sharper as it approaches the pair.

“Shit.” Ginny curses, already gathering her work into her arms. “Here we go.”

“You two.”

The girls turn sheepishly to the other end of the aisle, where Madam Pince stares them down, one hand on her hip, other extended outwards to point at them with a disapproving look.

“We’re just leaving.” Ginny assures.

Ginny stands, reaching out innocently for (Y/N)’s hand and clasping it in her own to drag her to her feet as she splutters out protests, flustered instantly by the action. Ginny only gives her enough time to gather her things before pulling her towards the exit.

“S-low down, Ginny.” She pleads. “Sorry, Madam- “

The librarian scowls at them with an icy look as they squeeze past her towards the exist, Ginny’s laughter barely concealed as they go. (Y/N) can barely focus on anything other than the hand in her own.

Once in the corridor, convinced of their own escape from the strict librarian, Ginny flings he rhead back in a laugh, bun bouncing on her head at the action, cheeks flushed from the excitement of it.

“Every time!” She exclaims. “We get chased out every time.”

“I-“

(Y/N) is too stunned to form a sentence, stunned not by their actions, one’s regularly performed to avoid Madam Pince’s wrath, but rather how suddenly loud her heart is in her own ears.

She could blame adrenalin, it would be so easy to do so, but she knows it’s not. It’s many things, but not adrenalin. Instead Ginny’s laughter, her free and proud laughter so cheerful on her ears, it’s the baby hairs framing her face, endearingly messy, and it’s most certainly the hand still clasped in her own, warm and soft.

Acceptance, that final phase. No amount of excuses in the world could hide it now, that (Y/N) (Y/L/N) is undoubtedly, and most terrifyingly, in love with her best friend.

In this moment, watching Ginny’s grin, that infectious smile that has (Y/N) own lips pulling into a smile of her own, she’s about ready to risk it all for her, to tug her closer and ask, even beg, to kiss her.

“Ginny- “She starts

“Harry!”

Like that, the spell is broken and Ginny’s hand is slipping from (Y/N)’s and her feet carrying her towards the red faced boy-who-lived at the other end of the corridor, flinging herself eagerly into conversation with him and leaving (Y/N)’s smile to drop.

The tugging feeling in (Y/N)’s chest returns, and she finds herself back in reality. Ginny likes Harry, she always has, it’s been the topic of so many late-night teasing, how could (Y/N) possibly forget. It hurts though, in a way it never has before, a painful stab of reality sent straight to her heart.

(Y/N) has just learned for herself that falling in love is never easy, even if her heartbreak isn’t one likely to be documented as a great tragic romance in future. No one told her it would be this hard, but as she watches Ginny grinning up at the boy across the hall, her heart twists with the reluctant acceptance that, not only is she in love, but that her best friend is in  love with someone else. 

[spicycreativity]

Intertwined - Chapter 4

Chapter: 4/8

Additional Notes: My AO3, WizardGlick, is 3 chapters ahead on this. Critical thinking exercise: Read the following Twin Peaks quote and consider how it related to Intertwined and to post-PoF as a whole:

WINDOM EARLE: What do you fear most in the world?

MAJOR BRIGGS: The possibility that love is not enough.

Chapter Content Warnings: Again, it's a hanahaki fic.

Excerpt: "Here's what I want you to do," Janus said, and his voice was surprisingly tender given the hard look on his face. "Cook for yourself. Don't make something you can take to the others later. Don't make something to share with me. I'm giving you a free pass to be selfish."

Yesterday, Patton supposed, could have gone worse. He had haunted the kitchen after his departure from Janus, begging the mindscape for some sort of hint. Like the answer to all their troubles was lurking in Thomas’ subconscious, just out of reach.

When morning came, he returned to Roman and Logan's rooms, was again rebuffed, and so floated back to the kitchen, made himself some coffee, and sat down at the counter. Again, he reached out with his mind for some kind of reassurance. He had to fix this. There had to be something he could do.

A 5,000 piece puzzle appeared in front of Patton. The image on the box was that of dogs playing poker, captioned A Friend in Need. The subconscious was funny sometimes, in a way that made Patton feel kind of sick and hollow. He opened the box and shook the puzzle pieces put onto the counter. It was a way to pass the time, at least.

A few hours crawled by. Patton’s hands began to shake from the caffeine, and he knew he should eat something, but… It almost didn’t seem worth the effort. He was happy to cook for his fam-ILY, but, when it was just him, what was the point? He put down another edge piece and flinched at the sudden appearance of Virgil in front of the coffee pot. Virgil had made himself scarce after yesterday’s meeting, only reappearing to turn down Patton’s offer of dinner. Patton couldn’t even blame him. How terrible, to wake up after a bad day and find your friends inconsolable and enemies at your door.

“Hi,” Patton said. Finding faux-happiness out of reach, he settled for ‘not completely miserable’ instead.

“Did you eat?” Virgil asked, pouring coffee into a purple mug decorated with this logo.

Patton saw no reason to lie, not about this. “Not yet. I got a little distracted.”

“Mm-hm,” said Virgil.

“Listen,” Patton said, already getting up to make toast. “Are you okay?”

Virgil shrugged and opened up another cabinet. “Want some orange juice?”

"Um, sure." Patton got out the bread and popped a few slices into the toaster. "Thank you."

"No prob." Virgil stood on his toes and got down two glasses, pivoted to the fridge for the orange juice.

"It's just," Patton said, "You don’t seem very upset?" It wasn't that Virgil was necessarily acting upbeat , but… Well, Patton had been expecting something more intense than Virgil's baseline levels of casualty.

"I am," Virgil said. "But I also want orange juice."

"Oh." Patton fell silent. His own feelings were so big and loud in his head they didn't really leave room for anything else. In the light of everything that had happened, Virgil's response felt cold. Patton had half a mind to tell him so, except that… Well, he had no room to talk about 'proper' emotional responses to things. If this was how Virgil wanted to navigate the situation, that was his right. "Did you talk to Roman yesterday?"

"Sorta." Virgil put the orange juice back, scooted a glass to Patton, and took a seat on the counter. "He said he wasn't ready to talk, but might be soon."

"To you?"

"Yeah." Virgil's expression was cloudy. "To me."

"That's a lot," Patton said, treading cautiously. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

Virgil's knuckles went white around his glass, so much that Patton was worried he might break it. "Oh, there's plenty I want to say," he said darkly. "To you and to-- to him."

"Janus," Patton said, feeling it important, somehow, to say his name.

"Yeah. To Janus."

"You can," Patton said. "To me. I won't get mad."

"I just don't understand!" Virgil said, the words exploding from his chest. "What did he say to you to make you trust him? After everything he did to Roman, to you, to Thomas! What did he say?" It was almost a plea, "What did he say?"

"I already told you, kiddo," Patton said, poking at the water droplets collecting on the side of his glass, unable to remember that they were called. Logan would know. "I made a choice to trust him."

"But why ?"

"I don't know, I just-- I felt something. I don't know if I can explain it in a way you can understand. I just got it. I understood what it was all for. "

"So, what, he just gets a free pass for treating us all like crap? Just gets to talk his way out of consequences?"

"Well, no." Patton kicked the toes of his loafers against the molding under the counter. "But I don't know that it would do any good to… punish him? Be cold, be mean, yell at him. What's done is done. I'm not asking you to forgive him."

"Good, 'cause I don't."

"But I also need you to understand that I made my choice and I'm committing to it. I…" Patton smiled sadly, gazing at the countertop without really seeing it. "I gave my word, in a way."

"Fine," Virgil growled. "But if he hurts you, if he does what he did to Roman and Logan, I swear, I swear--" Patton covered his ears briefly and Virgil seemed to get the message. "Well. I'll avenge you."

"Thanks, Virgil." Patton smiled again, happier this time, and looked Virgil in the face. It really wasn't all that long ago that he had thought of Virgil as an enemy. And now look at them. "I'm proud of you, you know."

"You are?"

"Of course I am! You've been a really good friend to, to all of us. And I'm so happy--"

"Stop," Virgil said, pulling up his hood. "Stop, stop, stop."

"Aw, did I make you blush?" Patton teased.

"Yeah," Virgil said, his voice breaking on that one syllable. He cleared his throat. "Let's not-- I'm gonna--"

"Is something wrong?" Patton asked, already reaching out for a hug. Virgil couldn't see him with his face buried in his hood, so Patton stopped short and let his arms fall to his sides.

"I just, uh." Virgil took a deep breath and let it out in a huff, swept his hood back with a jerky motion. "Sometimes I don't feel like I deserve all this."

"Oh, kiddo, of course you do!" Patton said, again holding out his arms for a hug. Virgil instead held out his hand, and Patton took it in his own, determined to communicate all the love and devotion he could through that simple contact. He smiled at the matching weave of their friendship bracelets, smiled at the memory of sitting side-by-side with Virgil as they both struggled with five-strand braids.

Virgil nodded, and his breathing was still shaky and spastic when he said, "I'm gonna go-- I'm not going off to cry all by myself, if, uh, if you're worried about that. I just need… Uh. Yeah."

Patton nodded, hurriedly snatching the half-cooked toast from the toaster and imagining it smeared with Crofter’s and butter, arranged neatly on a plate. "Okay!" He said with false cheer, passing the plate to Virgil. "Come get me if you need anything! Maybe we can watch Ghost Adventures tonight."

"Sounds good," Virgil said, slightly muffled around his hand, as he was chewing at his thumbnail. "Later." He sank out.

Patton sighed and stared at their untouched orange juice glasses. Even when he was trying to fix things, he made people upset.

A drop of water slid down the side of Virgil's glass, pooled on the countertop. Patton stared at it as another followed.

What did it truly mean to deserve something, anyway? It was something Janus would probably have an opinion on. He seemed to have opinions on most things. Maybe Patton could ask him in a bit.

“Did you need me for something?

Oh, okay, or Patton could ask him now. He turned, unsmiling to Janus. It wasn’t that he wasn’t cheered by Janus’ presence, but that he had no reason to lie. Janus had made it abundantly clear that he wasn't depending on Patton for anything. “Sorry,” he said, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to steal you.”

“No harm, no foul,” Janus said, and sighed so heavily his breath displaced a few puzzle pieces. “As you can see, I was hard at work.” Despite this claim, he wore a hard, annoyed expression and Patton remembered with a sinking feeling in his stomach that he was dealing with a liar. "Did you need help with your puzzle?" Janus asked.

Just like that, Patton's heart leapt. "You'll stay?"

Janus shrugged. "I suppose I can clear a space in my schedule."

Patton stood to get him some coffee. The pot was empty, but it was simple enough to imagine it full again. Ordinarily, he disliked the laziness of misusing Thomas' imagination, but he couldn't deny that it was convenient sometimes. He could tell he was on the brink of annoying Janus (somehow) and didn't want to risk pushing him over the edge. "Have you eaten?"

"Have you?" Janus asked, side-eyeing the remaining slices of toast sitting in the toaster. Patton had forgotten all about them.

"I guess it slipped my mind," Patton turned around and set a coffee mug on the counter in front of Janus, then rounded it to sit down again. He tried not to notice that Janus had scooted his chair away from Patton's, that he leaned on his elbow so they were even farther apart.

"Hm," said Janus, making a face. He didn't push it, and Patton was grateful for that. "Oh, and thank you."

"Of course," Patton said.

He watched Janus for a moment. He handled the puzzle pieces with difficulty, his gloves impeding his ability to pick them up. When he realized he was staring, he turned away and started fitting more edge pieces into place.

He couldn't decide if the quiet was pleasant or awkward. It was kind of nice, kind of domestic, sitting here with Janus, but he couldn't help but feel a kind of tension in the air.

Then Janus turned away and started coughing. Patton reached out to put a hand on his back, caught himself, pulled away. The deep, jagged sound made him cringe. He was no stranger to coughing fits, none of them were, brought on by Thomas' cat allergy. But this had come out of nowhere.

"You okay?" Patton asked when Janus resurfaced. Maybe he was just projecting, but he thought Janus looked a little pale on his human side.

"It's warmer today, isn't it?" Janus said, not looking at Patton.

"Huh?"

"It's not as cold. Roman seems to have gotten ahold of himself somewhat."

"Um, yeah, I guess." Patton furrowed his brow, trying to get a good look at Janus. "But Janus, are you okay?"

"Fine," said Janus. "Just inhaled some coffee, that's all."

But his hands shook as he slid a blue puzzle piece down the counter, and Patton was already halfway out of his seat before he even realized what he was doing. "You know, I think I will make breakfast."

"A little late now," Janus said. "By the way, did you really call me all the way down here just to work on a puzzle?"

"So brunch, then," Patton said. "And to be honest, no."

"Oh, do be honest," Janus said, leaning against the counter and resting his chin in his palm.

But Patton's priorities had shifted beyond philosophical debate. He had to take care of Janus now, get him comfortable, get him honest. He had to. "It's not important anymore."

"Hm," said Janus. He cleared his throat quietly, winced. "Well, now I'm not curious at all."

"It's okay," Patton said, trying for a reassuring smile. "We can talk about it later." He spun around, trying to decide what to make. Toast sounded wholly unappealing now, and he should choose something that would be easy on Janus' throat--

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing, by the way," Janus said.

"Making brunch?" Patton said with faux-innocence.

"Mm-hm. And what did you have in mind?"

"Soup."

"Patton," Janus said in a chastising tone. "I don't need you to take care of me. I need you to take care of you."

"That cough sounded like it hurt," Patton said, defeated.

Janus sat back and spread his arms out as though to show himself to Patton. "It did. It went away on its own. I'm fine."

Patton wasn't sure what to say to that. He scratched at his friendship bracelets, embarrassed. "Oh."

"Here's what I want you to do," Janus said, and his voice was surprisingly tender given the hard look on his face. "Cook for yourself. Don't make something you can take to the others later. Don't make something to share with me. I'm giving you a free pass to be selfish."

"But that's wrong!" Patton said reflexively. He regretted it as soon as the words were out of his mouth, but it wasn't like he could take them back. "Not for you," he hastened to explain. "That's your job. But me?"

"I can't very well be selfish for you," Janus said. He seemed annoyed, digging his fingers into both sides of his midriff in a way that looked decidedly painful. "Just try it. It won't be the end of the world."

And Patton wanted to. He didn't want to let Janus down, but… Where did it end? Where did it stop?

"Patton," Janus said. "I can see you catastrophizing."

"Sorry," said Patton, feeling close to tears. "Sorry, sorry, sorry. I just… I don't know who I am or what I want or if I'm even allowed to want."

"Breakfast, Patton. That's all. One little thing."

"Okay," Patton took a deep breath. Calm down. Make food. He could do that.

"There's nothing else," Janus said. "Just us, right now. Just this room. No consequences."

"Okay," Patton said. Cinnamon rolls. He wanted mini cinnamon rolls.

"Good," said Janus. "You're okay." He cleared his throat again, coughed a little behind closed lips. Patton forced himself not to notice, knowing that it would make Janus annoyed if he pointed it out or tried to help.

"I hope so," Patton muttered, half to himself, as he got his ingredients together. A phrase popped into his head and he shouted it out impulsively, "Mise en place!"

"Bless you?" Janus said, raising an eyebrow.

"No, no." Patton smiled. "Getting all your ingredients together. Mise en place."

"Ah," said Janus. He smiled too, his human eye crinkling at the corner. Patton almost sighed at the sight. Janus seemed to hold himself above human standards sometimes. He presented himself as something cold and pure, unbreakable and untouchable and utterly perfect. There was something so beautiful about seeing him step down from the pedestal. Janus seemed to notice Patton staring and turned away, surprisingly demure. "How about some music?"

A turntable appeared on the counter, spinning something inoffensive and charmingly lo-fi. "That's nice," Patton said. He didn't recognize the artist, but it didn't really matter. The music seemed to slide into the cracks of their conversation, filling out the empty spaces and projecting calm throughout the kitchen.

So Patton made cinnamon rolls and Janus worked on the puzzle while he sipped his coffee, and they both pretended not to notice the ragged coughs that Janus couldn't bury under the music no matter how hard he tried.

[avungerthatgotaway]

Baby it's the Sign of the Times

Eyoo guyzz! This is a new oneshot, I hope you like this❄ I'm currently rewriting my Hawkeye fic, so I'm not gonna post that one for a little. This one is a bit longer than my previous ones.

I totally recommend you to listen to this song while reading, even if you're not a fan of Harry's. It will really help the mood.

I don't own anything, even tho I'd like to have a few... choice words with Russo brothers about endgame...👍🏼🤔

Warnings: none

Summary: events when Peggy dies, mainly before Steve goes to London, and you comfort him. (I know it's stupid summary, but I don't want to spoil it, sorry)

Genre: angst

I don't mention civil war at all. No other avengers are at Peggy's funeral. There are no romantical pairings, and Sharon is not mentioned cuz she doesn't fit in the storylineeee.

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

She's gone.

In her sleep.

This words crushed Steve inside. He knew this was coming, but he'd never be ready for it, no matter what.

When he came from ice, he met her again. He knew they could never be together. No matter his actual age, Steve still had a full life in front of him. Unfortunately, same couldn't be told for Peggy.

Oh Peggy... She was always his ray of sunshine. Even through darkest of days. It is a cliché, but she was.

Was.

She is gone now.

Why did she have to go? Why didn't he get to spend a life with her? Steve's biggest wish was, and always will be, to spend a happy life with her. He didn't want any of this famous captain shit. He wanted a house in a village and 2 kids with Peggy. And a little dog. Or they'd be of service, and fight next to each other. Nevermind, Steve wanted a life with Peggy. For them to watch each other go grey. Maybe he could've been there for her as a husband now, through her sickness. Or maybe he'd be the one to go first. But still, that'd be a life...

One tear slipped down his rosy cheek, the other one following. Soon he had tearstains on his cheeks, but he didn't care. It was a silent cry. Those carry the most pain.

"Eyo, capsicle! You good there?" Tony snapped him outta his thoughts. Steve forgot the whole team was in the room. Fortunately, he was turned, so they were facing his back. He just couldn't talk to anyone right now.

"Yea yea, I'm good. I gotta go." he quickly got up and exited the room. He climbed up the stairs 2 more floors, but his toughts started haunting him again.

He's going on a plane tomorrow morning to say goodbye for the last time. Oh God, even thinking of a last time kills Steve inside. It's pretty late, but he didn't know what to do until morning. Sleeping wasn't an option, he knew that much. He gave in to overthinking again.

Of Peggy. Of her life. Of what could've happened if he didn't freeze...

"Just stop your crying, it's a sign of the times..."

"...welcome to the final show..."

"...I hope you're wearing your best clothes..."

Steve heard a silent piano in the background, and he heard an angelic voice. He still had tearstained cheeks, but he needed to hear what the voice had to say.

"...you can't bribe the door on your way to the sky..."

He was still clutching his cellphone in his hand, while following the voice. He came in front of Y/N's room. Y/N was a 16 year old avenger. She was very mature and wise for her age.

Her door was opened, and he just leaned against the doorframe, listening to her beautiful voice.

"...if we never learn, we been here before..."

"... why are we always stuck and running from the bullets..."

"...they told me that the end is near..."

Steve was crying a river at this point, and he didn't care. First shock was wearing out, and silent cries became little sobs. Yet, not loud enough for Y/N to hear.

"...just stop your crying, baby it'll be alright..."

"...we got to get away..."

She played final chords on piano, and then she turned around.

2nd person POV

You were singing "Sign of the times" and playing your piano. You loved this song. It was helping you relax, the melody was perfect. During the few last, silent piano chords, you tought you heard something. You softly finished and turned around. It was Steve.

But not the Steve you knew. This one had red puffy eyes, swollen from crying. He was sobbing quietly, trying to stop the sobs, but he couldn't.

You slowly came up to him, like to a wounded animal. He was just so hurt, you could see it in his eyes. You felt bad for him, but you wanted to know what happened. Who could hurt Stevie so badly.

"What happened, Big Guy?" you asked him. Steve just kept on sobbing even harder.

You moved him a little, so he was in your room, and you closed the door. You lead him to your bed, and sit on it, next to him. He was clutching his phone tightly in his hand, so you lifted his hand and gently tried to take it. He wouldn't let it go. You don't wanna pressure him, but whatever is on that phone is causing him this much distress.

"Stevie, cmon big babe" you cooed and rubbed the back of his hand with your thumbs. It may sound strange so someone, but Stevie really was like a big baby, so fluffy and vunerable inside.

He gave in and the phone just slipped from his hand in yours. You read the text and everyting was clear right away. You knew he went to visit Peggy in hospital, you didn't know she was this bad. I mean, Steve and you were close, but still that's too personal. You felt sooo sorry for him. He didn't deserve it. Not now. Not ever.

"Ohh, I'm so sorry Stevie..."

You immidiately hugged him close to you. He burried his head in your shoulder and neck, crying his eyes out, but at the same time trying not to cry. At least not to sob.

"Stevie, bear, it's okay to cry. Just let it all out."

That was all he needed. He started crying and sobbing uncontrollably, and your shirt was soaked in his tears. You didn't mind it tho, if it'll help him to feel better afterwards, he can cry as much as he needs.

After some time he lifted his head and looked into your eyes with his puffy baby blues.

"I'm sorry, Flower, I-I ju-ust can't believe s-s-she's go-one-e" he was still crying. You could see how much Peggy meant to him. You hugged him again, tugging at his hair softly to comfort him.

"Hey, hey no need to apologise Stevie. You cry yourself out, it'll help you. I'm here for you, Bear."

"T-tha-ank you. A-and and please... ca-can you-u not tell a-anyone about he-er ye-et..."

"Shhhh, Bear, I won't tell anyone about her. You wait until you're ready." you whispered.

You understood him. Not everyone in the team knew Peggy existed. And now telling them that she died, and what happened with them would be too much for Steve.

"T-thanks"

"Shhh, it's okay, it's okay." you whispered. You whispered to soothe him, you didn't know what to do when someone's loved one dies. But you wanted to be there for Steve so badly. Little did you know that what you did was just perfect for Steve.

-

Steve at first felt ashamed, because he cried in front of Y/N. But she talked just enough, whispering soothingly. He didn't have streinght to act like a big guy anymore. He craved comfort so badly, and he got it from Y/N. It felt nice.

-

Back to 2nd person POV

Something was bothering you. Steve didn't want anyone to know about Peggy's death which meant he was probably going to funeral alone. You didn't want that for him. At least he needed someone to be with afterwards. You knew Steve and how sensitive he was. You didn't want to think of things going through his head while he's alone after funeral. But if it was in London, as you tought it was, you had a plan.

"Stevie?" you said quietly playing with his hair a little.

"Mhm?" he asked, face still in your shoulder.

"When is Peggy's funeral? Is anyone going with you?" you asked. He lifted his head a little.

"T-tomorrow. L-london. And no. It's too much-h t-trouble for anyone. And I know it is Y/N, do-don't try to o--object" he smiled through his tears. You smiled back at him, your own eyes glistening with tears a little, but you didn't want him to notice.

He burried his head in your shoulder and neck again, like it was his safeplace, and he just cried. You couldn't imagine where those tears come from.

You softly stroked his short blonde locks, and started singing.

"Just stop your crying, it's the sign of the times...

...welcome to the final show

...I hope you're wearing your best clothes..."

Half into the song, you felt more weight on your shoulder. You looked down, and realised Steve fell asleep. You pressed one kiss to his temple, and moved him, so he was lying in your bed.

"Good night, Stevie Bear." you whispered.

-

When you exited your room quietly, you immediately called your best friend, Jon.

It was 2am, but you and Jon were just the best friends, you could call him whenever, and other way around.

Him and his family were going to London, and he invited you to go with them. You declined the offer, because you had to study so. so. much. But this was way more important.

"Heey, Jonny. Is that London offer still on?

Great. When are you going?

Ohhh, in 2 hours?

Yea, I'll be there. Thanks

And by the way, I'll have somewhere to go to tomorrow, around 4pm, I hope you guys don't mind.

Ohh cool. Thank you bruhhhh. Byee"

Great news. They still had a plain ticked to spare, and they'll pick you up soon.

You quickly packed your stuff, careful not to wake up Stevie. Poor baby. With everything he's been through, and now his Peggy dies...

You tell JARVIS to tell Tony you're in your friends house, and to wake up Steve 'round 6am. His flight was in 7. You knew this, and which Church it was in at what time because you did a little research. Aka, asked JARVIS for help. AI already heard everything, so it wasn't news.

You left the tower and went to meet up with Jon and his family.

-

Steve woke up by alarm ringing at 6am. He immediately realised he's not in his room. He was in Y/N's. And then he remembered how you comforted him. He was so thankful for you. Even though, you weren't here, and it was confusing. You probably went to sleep on the couch, or in some other room, and Steve felt bad about it. He quickly got ready, and tried to find you, so he could get you back to your bed. Fortunately JARVIS easened his search.

"Mr. Rogers, ms. L/N went on a trip with her friend a few hours ago."

"Oh. Thanks JARVIS." Steve said, and left the building. You didn't mention any trips, but then again, you two didn't talk anything except Peggy tonight.

-

(timeskip to Peggy's funeral, cuz no one wants to listen about the trip now)

-

3rd person POV

It's so devastating to attend a funeral on your own.

Even more so if it's a funeral of your lost loved one.

Maybe Steve should've brought someone with him. For comfort. At least to feel the familiar presence. He carried Peggy's coffin, and it was enough to make him feel empty and sad. It was nearing to the end of funeral, and Steve didn't want to be alone. He wanted comfort. Like when Y/N comforted him last night.

After the ceremony ended, he stayed behind a little. He craved someone's presence. Anyone familiar. And then he felt a smal hand on his shoulder. He turned around, and it was Y/N. At first, he tought he was hallucinating. But her petite hand on his shoulder felt so real. He felt so grateful for this small human being at the moment, he just wanted to thank God over and over for having her with him.

"Y/N, Flower, what are you doing here?" he asked, still in shock.

"Hey Bear. I figured out you could use some company after the funeral. But if you wanna be alone, I understand, I'll go."

"No no, I mean, if you can stay, it would mean a world to me. You really know me better than I know myself sometimes Y/N. Thank you so much, Flower." he said, and immediately came for a hug. You hugged back, of course.

"I'll stay for as long as you want, Bear. I'm here for you, as long as you want me to stay."

"I want you to stay forever kiddo" he mumbed in your hair.

"Forever it is."

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

@afictionaladventure16 @rae-is-typing @elles-writing @avengersarchive @avengersuniverse

[heresathreebee]

Strawberry Soda

Marvel's Ava Starr x Reader

Summary: the 'reformed' SHIELD assassin that's been visiting your favorite self help minimart is really cute. 

Masterlist Next

Warning(s): +13 | no-snap AU, post-Ant Man and the Wasp. Flirt (?), gender neutral reader, Ava did nothing wrong and is therefore in no need of reformation/redemption.

Author's note: I tend to write with black, poc and afab characteristics in mind, but if the gender-neutral and racially-ambiguous boots fit, feel free to wear 'em! Absolutely no editing went into the making of this fic so please enjoy responsibly

She's been coming here for a month and you can't stop looking. Always with her hood up or a hat obscuring her face, but she could never truly hide eyes like that. All your life, you've never given weight to the world's obsession with light eyes. Maybe it was in small part jealousy as a result of your upbringing, but it was also that there was more to a person than their eyes. This woman just might have changed your mind. 

Not the color of them necessarily (it was a jumble of not quite green and not quite grey, you think it changed with their surroundings). No, it was the sharpness, the intensity, like ice and fire in them. They had never landed on you, but everywhere they landed and every time they landed somewhat close to you, you felt panic sweep up your body from your toes to your stomach. And every time she turned away, you realized you were holding your breath and you hear that Art Garfunkel song playing in your head. 

Yeah, you might have a slight crush on her. 

Every time Bright Eyes comes in she does the same thing. She plucks a bag of sour gummy worms from the rack and pockets them. She goes to the back wall and assesses the many drink types and flavors in the fridges. Picks something, pays for it, then leaves. 

You are by no means shy, and she's not the only person you've observed in this store. And yet you're still working up the nerve to say something to her (code for debating if you should even say something at all), and you've spent too much time observing and debating that you feel like a bit of a creep at this point. 

Today (or tonight? It was still pretty early) she's actually in your way. Most people seem to steer clear of one another in here, never ever engaging another person unless absolutely necessary, and here you are, awkwardly watching her select her drink of the day. And she's in no rush either; you can see her bright eyes scanning lazily the rows of monster, budlight, snapple, and redbull. She's never seemed quite taken by sugary sodas, however– 

"Here," you hear yourself say as you reach around her. You've been up all night and need a boost to keep you going just a little bit longer before you crash for the day. You pluck the strongest red bull you could see and an additional glass of pink liquid. 

"This is strawberry soda," you advised, "it's not American so it's got less carbonation and sugar content in it," 

You rasp and press the cool glass of Ramune into her hand and your sleep addled brain cannot help but remark on how soft her skin is. 

"Thank you." For a second you fear that you said that last part out loud, and you are momentarily distracted by her accent, and then when you part your lips to apologize, the drag of your skin alerts you that she was probably thank you for the drink. 

You try to hum in acknowledgement but it comes out more like an embarrassing grunt (she is smiling at you at least). That's when you realize her eyes are on you. Bright Eyes is looking directly at you… and yet you feel none of the apprehension you felt from before. 

"My pleasure." You walk with her to the self-help counter where she enters in the Ramune, the gummy worms, and the red bull. She locks eyes in a gentle glare as if to say 'don't you dare argue' so of course it sends a thrilling shiver through your body and you let her buy your drink for you. 

There's this momentum going, it's your first conversation with her and you're not ready for it to end. Unconsciously, you crack open your red bull and chug it. Maybe the bitter tangy beverage will help you to think of something to say. 

You're in luck when instead of starting to leave, Ava looked over the unusual instructions for opening ramune bottles. You watched her read, then examine the top, then read again and look to you with mild confusion. 

"I know," you say sympathetically. "I can show you if you like?" 

She hands you the drink and watches you with calculating coolness. You pop the center cap out, flip it and just for dramatic effect, slam a fist to pop the glass marble into the top chamber. "Violá," you sing. 

Ava takes the glass and a small sip. You watch the marble roll at the opening, too large to escape and more of a hindrance to your notorious chugging method of consumption. You're rambling about it before you realize. 

"I think it's supposed to keep it mixed, or possibly force you to drink it slower. You know, savor it a little bit. Not my style, but I do think the marble is fancy. I just wish it was easier to take out, I'd have a hundred." 

Bright Eyes chuckled, nearly spitting out the pink drink and having to cover her mouth with her hand. "That so? Hmm." 

She seemed exactly as reluctant to end this interaction as you were. You stepped out the door onto the sidewalk together (you hold the door open, of course). Neither of you quite knows how to move on and you're a little relieved to see your feelings reflected in her eyes. 

You offer your name. "I come here all the time, nobody's ever offered to buy me a drink, so, thank you." 

"I'm… Ava," she stutters. "I'll, uh, see you around then?" 

"I sure hope so." You look up the street and find the city street beginning to come alive as people commute from home to work, and when you turn back, Ava presses something cold into your hand as she says goodbye. You don't look at it until she disappears into a sea of dog walkers. Your brow furrowed in confusion as you rolled the glass marble in between your fingers. "How did she…?" 

Someday you'll have a glass jar full of them. 

Next

[imagines-to-quench-thirst]

The war between the two lovers

@belle82devart asked: Hello there, darling! Happy (early) New Years! I would love to know if you would maybe write a Cliff Unger x Reader fic where he is in his BT form and recognizes one of the people from his past (the reader)? There could maybe be some flashback angst or smut that leads to a very angsty reunion? Maybe he's tried to kill the reader before realizing who she is? ❤ I hope this isn't too much to ask for and I understand if it is. Thank you anyway for just viewing this ask! ❤❤❤

Warning: a few swear words, depiction of violence and war

Summary: Commander Y/n L/n runs with her group of young soldiers through the warzone city but what happens when she thinks of her lover that left before her?

Pairing: Cliff Unger x reader (military AU)

'Commander L/n fall back!' The shouts and wails of commands, requests, and cries of help from the bruised army men as they ran away from the incoming tank. Seeing her men, her team, her comrades she yells with the remaining air from her lungs 'Down, dames. Under the bridge.'

Looking at their leader and the underbelly on the bridge seeing they spy the prickled fence surrounding it. 'What are you waiting for? Dive down.'

The shaken men look down questioning their leader 'Ma'am, what if-' 'You want an invitation, soldier?!' With the tank nearing Y/n pushed them falling down on the barbed wire and under the bridge. Jumping down and huddling over each other Y/n and her team felt the tremendous power of the tank above them. Shaking the small stone bridge the pebbles falling at the sides. Looking back at her men she asks 'You alright? No wounds?' The men shake seeing the small frown on her dry lips. Seeing the noticeable shift in her action and stance they ask cautiously.

'Maybe the rest of the troops are well.' The youngest soldier of 23 years tells. Looking at her hopeful eyes she responded with an exhausted nod. 'Let's get moving, we can't stay here for long. Move out.'

'The view is nice.' Y/n responded as her eyes land on the small window seeing the valleys of hills decorated with wine yards with the sun shining down on the small mansion. 'It won't be like that for a while.' A voice that she loved to death provoked a scowl to her expression.

'Of course, if you think like that.' She turns to him seeing Cliff, her Cliff, laying on the bed covers over his scratched body with many hickeys. Letting her step drag he sees the small grin on his face his slowly gray hair depriving him of the scene in front of him. Damn that old hair.

Sitting next to him she felt his chapped lips on her hand giving greatly more affection she craved for. 'Let's go to the wine yard. I want to try their new black wine.' Y/n whispered as she pulled her hand away standing up trying to lure Cliff out of the bed.

'We can have a wine tasting right here.' He taps the plush white comfort. 'That's a given but I won't go outside.' Y/n replied still standing her ground. 'Alright then let's go taste some fermented grapes.'

'Let's go, boys, run.' Y/n yelled yet again at her boys as she watched the tired man prance in front of her 'Run faster, my Nana God rest her soul could run faster than you and still make some Rahat locum.' The man seemingly start to pick up their place as running through the murky ankle-high water hearing behind them screams and a loud 'They are here!' some soldiers turned their head as a horrified look settle on their bruised faces.

'Don't look back men. That's rule number one.' Y/n clarified seeing a shaky nod. Closing her eyes she steadies her mind focusing on the splashes of water in front of her and especially behind her. So much more than in front of her.

'I'm tired beyond measures.' Y/n groans as she entered her apartment with her boyfriend Cliff. 'Me too. Just want to read a book and fall asleep.' Cliff answers as he removes his coat. Y/n turns to him her brow arched in commotion 'I here thought that you were ready for an exercise, Captain Unger.' Cliff laughs at her temptation and responds in equal measure. 'Well, if you are talking about my most favorite exercise Commander L/n then maybe I have some just in case.'

'Commander, there isn't any ammo left. I'm done.' A soldier next to her screamed as he kneeled down behind the barricade. Watching her men putting the very last rounds she shouts 'Come on, men, what's our motto ?' The men shout in unions 'Adapt and overcome.'

As the last rounds rung out Y/n looks at her men tried with no hope abandoned. Hearing the footsteps approach Y/n grabs her knife holding it tightly in her hand. Her men copy her exchanging their empty guns for sharp blades. The enemies ran into their safe area pointing their guns to them and with an iron heart and iron blade, Y/n and her men attacked the overly powerful enemies fighting until the very demise.

'You promised that we would go together. You fucking promised.' Y/n shouted at her Cliff that made an earth-shattering decision. 'This isn't about us. It about the well-being of the rest, the civilians, the next generation. You know that.'

Y/n places her hand on his bag stopping him. 'But you promised.' she mumbled out as tears started to exit. 'This is bigger than us. If it's my fate to die I'm happy with that.' Hearing the D-word Y/n shots again 'What about our destiny to be together?!' Cliff sighs deeply 'We shouldn't have been together, you know that.'

With more tears she scarcely responds 'I-I-I do-don't have words... for this.' Cliff looks at her one last time he exits the house grabbing his keys from the nearby bowl.

Trying to stop the wails Y/n looks at the last thing Cliff touched not her, not his lover but the plastic bowl. Something he never did. 'Stupid bowl.' looking down she sees a small metal piece twinkling. Picking it up she sees the long band of metal beads and at the end the rectangle plaque.

'You idiot.'

Opening her eyes Y/n sees the gray sky above her. Standing gradually up she feels the sluggish sand under her palm. What! Looking at her surroundings she sees no one just harsh black hills and mountains. Strolling along the water she sees the empty area with still no one in sight. 'Who are you?' a gentle voice asks her as she cascades down a small hill on the woman's face a soft smile. 'I'm Y/n L/n. I was back in um, the city and a soldier knocked me on the head and I woke up here. I don't know how I got-' 'You are dead. That's why you are on this beach.' Y/n stares at the woman seeing the smile still sitting in her face 'Are you alright in the head? If that was true you shouldn't act like this...all relaxed.' The woman giggled nodding 'I am. I am just here to welcome new arrivals but trust me you are very much dead.' Walking past Y/n, Y/n continues asking 'Wait, but why- and you are gone.' she turns to see no one behind her.

Shaking off, Y/n starts to continue walking feeling a cold chill creeping up her spine. A gunshot rings out. Covering her head she looks at the high hills seeing a small group of guns-carrying people holding the gun in her direction making her stop in her tracks. As they walked closer she saw a tube departing from the man in the middle connected to the other surrounding him. 'What the-' 'State your name.' all of a sudden the very gun who fired at her was in front of her placed on her forehead feeling the warm metal. The man holding the gun with a mask covering his face. 'Y/n L/n.' As much as fear wanted to subdue her she couldn't do it, not now. 'What are you doing?' the man asks as she started to remove his mask. 'I don't know I just woke up before 10 minutes, I think. I just woke up he- Cliff!'

Y/n screamed in shock seeing her boyfriend's face. He looks at her in surprise. 'How do you know my name?' he asks again seeing the confused woman still holding the gun to her forehead. 'It's me Y/n, your Y/n... Commander L/n... I'm your girlfriend.' as she listed her name and nicknames he continued to be confused 'Respond honestly or I'll shoot.' knowing how much he is serious about it she takes her hand to her chest lowering slowly down 'I'm just gonna grab something it's not a gun, promise.'

He watches your hand dives in your shirt as you grabbed the metal necklace and pulling it over your head placing the entirety in her palm showing him 'You gave me that. The last time we saw each other.'

Cliff looks at the dog tag pulling the gun down and into his pocket as he grabs the necklace into his hand. Letting his fingers move across the metal indent looking once more at the woman in front of her.

Hearing her sobs he hears her voice breaking as she said 'I-I-I do-don't have words... for this.' Cliff looks at her one last time as he exits the house grabbing his keys from the nearby bowl as he puts his dog tag into the bowl in secrecy. Hoping that she will see it.

'Y/n.' Cliff looks at her as the sudden realization dawned on his face. 'Why are you here?' he asks as he yanks her into a familiar hug. 'You idiot, how could you leave me and die?!' Y/n lets her anger wash over her as she starts to hit him on his shoulders venting out her frustration. 'How dare you?' she asks again as the anger turns to saddens. Cliff looks at the sobbing woman being reminded of the last time he saw her in this same state. 'I'm sorry I regretted my decision every day and when I died somehow I forgot you-' Y/n looks up at him hitting him again 'How could you forget this face?!'

Cliff looks at her face seeing how much she stayed the same. His hands land in her cheeks as his head leaned down kissing her lips after the long-awaited moment. His lips softly moving against her savoring the feel and emotions received. Something he missed dearly, something that reminded him of home.

'Will you ever forgive me?' he asks as he watches her eyes, she nods 'Well, I don't have anywhere to go. Adapt and overcome.' 'Adapt and overcome.'

Hope you liked it. Feedback is always appreciated❤️

[artificialqueens]

If You Ever Wanna Be in Love (I'll Come Around), Chapter Five (Branjie) - Athena2

Previously: Brooke and Vanessa’s night of babysitting turned into them kissing Now: They both deal with the aftermath and find themselves pulled together once again

A/N:Thank you all so much for the amazing feedback and comments you’ve been giving this fic! They really do mean a lot to me and I appreciate them all. It would be great if you could leave some on this chapter as well. Thank you so much to Writ for betaing and helping me out with this chapter, you’re the best.

“I kissed Brooke,” Vanessa blurts to A’keria. Saying it makes it real, proves it wasn’t a dream or hallucination. It really happened, and Vanessa knows it doesn’t mean anything, but her lips are still tingling.

“What the hell happened?” A’keria asks.

“We were babysitting, and her niece chanted for us to kiss and…yeah.” Shit, it sounds lame like that. But on that rug, with the sunset illuminating every inch of Brooke’s face, her cheeks glowing, it was almost…magical. Almost real. It’s not, though. It barely lasted five seconds. Vanessa kissed her abuela longer than that as a kid, scrubbing sticky lipstick off her cheek after.

“Damn. One six-year-old is all it took.” A’keria mutters.

Vanessa swats at her. “Hey! She was loud enough for the whole building to hear, okay? We had to!”

A’keria rolls her eyes. “Yeah, she really forced you. Who would win, two adult clowns or a first-grader? Not you, apparently.”

“You calling me a clown?”

“You and Brooke. Might as well open up a circus.”

Vanessa groans. “It was just so the kids would quiet down. She’s gonna be my fake wife at the carnival to shut Paul up some more, and that’s it.”

But does Vanessa want that to be it? That can be the end of the fake-wives-and-girlfriends thing, but Vanessa knows she doesn’t want it to be the end of their friendship. She can’t lose Brooke in her life, laughing at work stories and sending each other selfies, someone who just gets her, who didn’t ask her to change anything.

They were thrown right into the fire at first, forced to act married. But things have slowed since then, the intense blaze now a cozy fireplace warmth, with more of Brooke unraveling before Vanessa’s eyes. How sweet she was around her family. How she sends Vanessa pictures of dogs she sees. How excited she was after realizing she made mac and cheese. And the kiss–but Vanessa’s not thinking about that.

“If you say so.”

“We’re friends. Not every relationship has to be romantic.”

“No, they don’t,” A’keria agrees. “But if your feelings for her go beyond friendship, I don’t think you should deny that.”

Vanessa shrugs. She’ll deal with that when–and if–she has to.

—

“Hytes!”

The men on the museum board favor last names for address and Brooke can’t argue without being called whiny. She snaps her head up, trying to focus. Her brain is a slow computer with too many tabs open, pinging between guests and her speech and kissing Vanessa—

“Yes, Greg?”

Ugh. Greg. He hadn’t believed Brooke was department head the first time they met, had called the museum director to accuse her of lying. The resulting pride that erupted in her after Greg found out that Brooke is, in fact, department head, had left a stream of tension between them at every board meeting.

“Check with the guests for the T-Rex opening again. Some are major donors, so we need them.”

Brooke nods wearily. So much of the museum came down to donors, and she knows it’s important, but she wishes this entire exhibit opening didn’t have to fall on her. But her shoulders are more than strong enough to carry it.

“Unfortunately, with the expenses of the T-Rex,” Greg continues, “Your department might face cuts if this doesn’t go well.”

The words slice at Brooke’s stomach. “Cuts?” she demands. “But funding got cut last year–”

“Then you’ll just have to do well, won’t you?”

Brooke nods. She could punch Greg, but she has to channel that energy into this exhibit instead. She can’t face more budget cuts. She cried after letting Ariel the intern go last year, and she won’t lose Plastique this year. Cuts would also mean less events and kids programs. How many kids like her come through those doors and gain a new passion for paleontology? How many find a safe space, or realize they’re not alone? How many dream of ages past as they walk through the rooms?

Brooke won’t let them down.

All she wants is to text Vanessa after, to rant with someone who knows that higher-up board-member nonsense. Vanessa said that one racist library board member told her ‘someone like her’ didn’t even belong in a library, and Brooke just wanted to hold Vanessa and comfort her. Now, selfish as it is, she wants Vanessa, because somehow Vanessa has come to mean comfort to Brooke. She writes a text asking Vanessa for coffee and freezes.

Vanessa doesn’t need Brooke’s problems weighing her down. She knows how caring and empathetic Vanessa is, how she takes on the feelings of others, hurts when her friends are and sad when a kid at the library cries. Makes it her mission to cheer them all up. Brooke loves it about her, but she can see Vanessa caring too much and getting stressed, and she won’t let Vanessa do that. They’re friends, and they share things, but this seems too big, something Brooke wouldn’t want anyone to carry with her. She won’t hurt Vanessa with it.

She deletes the text.

—

Vanessa hovers outside Brooke’s office. Something’s up with Brooke. Her replies have been short and half-hearted all week, and though it could be nothing, and she knows she has no right to expect essay-length texts from Brooke, she knows in her gut something’s wrong.

Vanessa finally knocks, and the Brooke that greets her isn’t unlike normal Brooke. But Vanessa looks closer, for things she would have missed before but are obvious to her now. Brooke’s eyes are dull, rimmed with dark circles. Her hair is messier than normal, like she’s been tearing her hands through it. And then she sees Brooke’s hands, usually so sturdy and clever and quick. They’re trembling a little, just enough for Vanessa to see. She has to restrain herself from grabbing those hands, running her thumb over the smooth skin until Brooke is calm.

“What’s wrong?” Vanessa asks.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” She can see the wheels spinning in Brooke’s mind, the worry in her eyes. She’s seen Brooke nervous before, but this is different. This is tense and stressed Brooke, trying and failing to keep her professional put-togetherness, and it hurts Vanessa’s heart. Vanessa puts her hands on her hips, daring Brooke to lie again.

Brooke sighs. “It’s the exhibit. I need to make sure all the donors are coming, and if there’s not a good turnout my department might lose funding, so everything…everything has to be perfect.” She takes a deep breath, and Vanessa wonders how long she’s been holding that in, letting it poison her.

“Perfect’s a lot to ask,” she says softly.

“I can do it. It has to be,” Brooke says simply, and Vanessa wonders how many times perfection’s been asked of her before, how many times she’s worked herself into the ground to deliver it.

“Who said? That asshole Greg?” She’s heard enough from Brooke to know Greg is not someone she wants to meet.

Brooke nods weakly, and all Vanessa wants is to smooth that wrinkle between her eyebrows.

“Can I help with anything?”

“I don’t think so. I just have to wait for replies. And finish my speech–” she grabs notecards off her desk, “–which is horrible.”

“I’ll listen to it! No arguing,” she says when Brooke protests. “Read it.”

Brooke does, talking about how great it was to bring the skull here and the importance of museums. It’s a good speech, one that’ll have rich people opening their checkbooks. But something’s missing–that breathless, childlike passion Brooke has when she talks about dinosaurs, the excited inner child that comes through in her smile. Brooke is going for cool and professional, and it’s good, but it’s not her. At least, not the Brooke Vanessa knows.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Vanessa says gently, “But can you make it less formal? A little more fun, more like you?”

“That’s how I had it the first time,” Brooke admits. “I just–”

“You wanted it to be perfect,” Vanessa finishes. “But it’s perfect when it’s like you too, you know.”

Brooke smiles, and Vanessa knows she’s gotten through to her. “Thank you, Ness.”

Vanessa wrinkles her nose. “Ness?”

“That’s what Sophie calls you. I kinda like it.”

“Okay, Brookie.”

Brooke swats at her playfully, and Vanessa drops into Brooke’s desk chair. Her desk is neat, of course, littered with tiny dinosaur figures and pens in a C-3PO mug. She smiles at pictures of Brooke on fossil digs, in graduation robes, giving presentations.

“Brooke Lynn Hytes, dino expert.” Vanessa shoots a horrible imitation of Brooke into her desk phone.

“I don’t sound like that!”

“Sure you do.”

“‘Sure you do,’” Brooke mimics in a raspy voice that Vanessa admits is accurate. She could sit here all day, but lunch is almost over.

“I gotta go, but take a break,” Vanessa orders. “I know you’re working too hard.”

Brooke nods, and her smile loops in Vanessa’s head all day.

—

Brooke types the last sentence of her speech, sitting back in awe. Her speech for the opening of a special exhibit, a childhood dream come true. It hadn’t been easy to get here. There were the doubtful years of college when Brooke learned paleontology was a lot more than digging up bones, when professors–usually male–approached her in lectures and asked if she had the right room, maybe you’re looking for the teaching department, sweetie? There was the struggle of needing a perfect application for one of only a few internships, the job prospects that made her toss and turn at night, wondering if she should go the teaching route, suck it up and teach earth science to bored college kids needing an elective. And then those first bones shone through the dirt, glittering under the Montana sun, and Brooke had known that this was all she ever wanted.

She reaches for her phone to tell Vanessa. It’s strange—Brooke never would’ve thought of sharing this with anyone, would’ve just kept it to herself. Another day at work. But she’s done it, and all she wants is for Vanessa to know, to share it with her. Lately she’s sharing more and more with Vanessa, from funny memes or restaurant recommendations to the book of Mary Oliver poems she’s going to give Vanessa as a thank you for helping with the speech. She loves when Vanessa sends stuff back, selfies of her in a witch hat, or pictures of crafts she’s done. The fact that Vanessa did something like tiny She-Ra swords and thought of Brooke, wants her to experience it too, makes Brooke warm and fuzzy inside.

There’s a missed call from her mom, and Brooke calls her back first, trying to calm her heart. There’s no reason to think anything bad happened, she reminds herself.

“Mom?” Brooke asks hesitantly.

“Brooke!” She’s too cheerful to report bad news, and Brooke relaxes. “Your dad and I were wondering if you and Vanessa want to come for dinner some time?”

Shit. “Um–”

“We’d love to see her again.”

“I’d have to check.”

It’s not fair to ask Vanessa again. The agreement was one work dinner and one family party, but they’ve strayed so far from that Brooke doesn’t know where they stand anymore. Brooke planned to say they broke up if her mom asked. She never thought her parents would like Vanessa so much. But she should have expected it, because who doesn’t love Vanessa seconds after meeting her?

“Well, I hope so.” Her mother’s voice is so loving that Brooke’s guilt burns hotter. “Vanessa’s such a good fit for you. You’re so happy around her.”

It’s not real! Brooke wants to yell, and she almost tells her mom the truth. But that would crush her, crush the person who always wanted Brooke to be happy. The person who brought her to the park and coaxed her to join the other kids, even though Brooke was too nervous to ask for her turn on the monkey bars and sat under the slide instead, dreaming of worlds where she wasn’t told to come out of her shell. Who brought her to museums and science camps and encouraged her to keep going in college. Who tried to find women for Brooke to date after she came out, wanting her to have someone she could be happy with.

How could she disappoint her mom like that?

She swallows the lump in her throat. “I-I’ll check, Mom, okay?”

“Okay, honey. Love you!”

“Love you too.”

Brooke sighs, shrugging out the tension in her shoulders. She needs the big guns for this one.

—

“I don’t know what to do, Nina.” Brooke burrows herself deeper into Nina’s couch and takes another sip of wine. “Everything’s a mess.”

Nina occupies the couch’s other end, just like their college days, giggling on a cramped twin bed. Brooke wishes they were back in that freezing cinder-block room, where her biggest concerns were finding edible dining hall food and finishing homework and herding drunk Nina, who just wanted to re-enact every Disney movie ever, into bed. Not the absolute disaster things have become. One little lie. One little lie to stop endless questions about dating, the well-meant hopes that she’ll find the one. Now, the lie is a skyscraper about to collapse in front of her, and all she has to mend it is duct tape.

What was she thinking, agreeing to this? One smile from Vanessa and she was gone, fake ring on her finger and knees touching on her parents’ couch like teenagers, watching movies and bringing coffee and texting nonstop. Now she has to break her mom’s heart and tell her they broke up, or do the act all over, pretend to be in love again, and then what? They keep doing this for the rest of their lives?

“I don’t think it’s that bad,” Nina says finally. “You said Vanessa liked your parents, so why not ask her?”

“Because where does it end? We do this again, my mom loves Vanessa more, she keeps asking to see her. I’m supposed to ask Vanessa to do this for every birthday and holiday and whatever? Next thing you know we’re spending Christmas there–”

“Brooke.”

“–And my mom loves weddings. There hasn’t been one since my sister’s so she’ll start asking about that–”

“Brooke.”

“–Then we’ll have a fake wedding, and what if she starts asking about kids? Oh my God, I’m gonna have to kidnap a child and they’ll make a Lifetime movie about me—“

“Brooke! Breathe, okay?”

Brooke realizes how fast the words are tumbling out, how little she’s breathing. She forces a deep breath, willing her lungs to accept the air. Nina pats her shoulder gently, and Brooke nods that she’s okay.

“I think you should just ask Vanessa,“ Nina continues. “There’s plenty of time to figure things out after. You can tell your mom you broke up later.”

“But it’s not fair to keep asking Vanessa. And the longer this goes on, the more it’ll crush my mom when it’s over. It’s easier to end it now, before she really gets attached to Vanessa.”

It’s not just her mom, Brooke realizes. The more they do this, the closer Brooke gets with Vanessa, and the more it will hurt when it ends. Vanessa has become one of her favorite people, and she can’t lose their friendship. What if asking Vanessa to do this again ruins it?

“Honey, I get that. Vanessa did ask you to the carnival though, so maybe she won’t mind going to your parents’ again? It’s one more event each way, so it’s not totally unfair.”

Brooke shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Don’t forget yourself either,” Nina says. It’s familiar, something’s Brooke’s heard since they were eighteen and Nina made sure sleeping and eating didn’t get sacrificed to Brooke’s studying. “You can’t keep fake dating just to please people.”

Brooke nods. “You’re right, Nina. How’d you get so smart?”

“Just born that way, I guess.” Nina sips wine with a smug smile. “And I want a lead role in the Lifetime movie.”

—

The carnival grows closer, and preparation is in full swing. There’s a running tally, currently at seven, of how many game booths Yvie’s told off on the phone for not following safety rules. There’s the list of food trucks Vanessa and Silky assembled from their personal rankings, plus a new Greek one Brooke told her about. There’s Nina and A’keria’s practice sheets of face paint designs, from fierce tigers to questionable butterflies.

Aside from the kids, this is what Vanessa likes best about her job–having different activities to do, things that let her be creative and not have to sit still at a desk like she did in school, or spend hours refolding the same shirts like when she did retail. She can run outside to test paper airplanes for a craft, or arrange displays, or help kids with homework, and maybe that’s why she never wanted another job. What other job would let her have this much fun?

The added bonus is that it distracts her from Brooke and dinner with her parents. She shouldn’t need distracting from Brooke, but try telling her brain that after seeing Brooke in a fire-engine red skirt the other day, the fabric wrapped around her legs like a second skin. Not to mention the fact that she kissed Brooke pops into her head at random moments, and she can still feel those soft lips against hers.

Is there something more to her feelings? But they’ve been faking a relationship, and that’s bound to rub off. How many movie co-stars got together after playing love interests? Not that she and Brooke are exactly movie stars, but hey, their performance was convincing. Sure, she talks on the phone with Brooke for hours at night, just like high school minus the tether of the phone cord, and brought her cookies once, but those don’t have to be romantic. The speeding up of her heart around Brooke, the way she’s drawn close to her like a magnet, how her eyes can’t leave Brooke when they’re together, aren’t anything either.

So having dinner with Brooke’s parents again shouldn’t be a big deal. If this were a real relationship, a second parent meeting would be much more serious, requiring Vanessa to wear her best dress and bring fancy wine. But they’ve already passed the test, and it’s just dinner. Brooke is nervous, she knows, never planned things to get this far and felt awful for asking, but Vanessa gets it. If the situation was reversed, she doubts she could crush her mom, always on lookout for girls Vanessa can date, like that either.

And she did ask Brooke to the carnival, which wasn’t part of the agreement. Another dinner isn’t unfair. One more dinner, and Brooke will end things on her side, and Vanessa will go back to saying her wife is sick when parties come up. Vanessa hates to think of Brooke’s parents being upset they broke up, but she can do it.

A’keria’s wrong. She’s not in love with Brooke.

At least, she doesn’t think so.

—

Dinner is just them and Brooke’s parents, and Vanessa lets herself go. They want to know more about her, and she tells stories of summers at the beach as a kid, sand clinging to her legs as she built sand castles with her mom, how she and brother splashed for hours, how her dad hoisted her on his shoulders to watch the nightly fireworks. She talks about her college roommate Shea–they kissed once, incidentally, but Vanessa leaves that out–and how they threw a party on the dorm roof. She talks about the time she, Silky, and A’keria misread the recipe and made 30 pancakes instead of 15 and passed them around the apartment building.

Everyone laughs, and it’s hard not to love this, not to want this. A girlfriend like Brooke with her nice family, who reminds Vanessa of her own family even if they’re nowhere near as chaotic. Talking about memories must spur something in Brooke’s mom, because after dessert she pulls them in the living room and whips out a photo album.

“Here’s Brooke as a baby,” Brooke’s mom says, and Vanessa melts, her heart damn near exploding at baby Brooke, wrapped snugly in a white blanket patterned with pink hearts. Her hair is lighter than it is now, almost white-blonde, but her smile is exactly the same. Her eyes are wide and shining with joy.

“Here she is in kindergarten.”

There’s five-year-old Brooke outside a red brick building with a huge grin on her face, modeling a pink tutu, in a blue dress at graduation.

“And here’s Brooke in middle school—“

“Mom, I’m begging you,” Brooke groans, but the page flips to a picture of teenage Brooke whose reluctant smile reveals wire-covered teeth.

Brooke buries her face in her hands, and Vanessa gently pulls them away.

“Hey, everyone looked horrible in middle school,” Vanessa soothes. “I bleached part of my hair once and looked like Cruella DeVil.”

Brooke brightens. “You owe me a picture of that.”

“Fine.”

The pages turn, and Vanessa doesn’t notice how late it’s gotten, doesn’t notice anything until thunder tears through the sky, bringing pounding rain with it. Everyone jumps, and the reality that they have a half-hour drive in pouring rain and darkness hits, making Vanessa squeeze herself.

“I didn’t realize it was so late,” Brooke says. “Wanna go, Ness?”

If Vanessa could focus, she’d notice her face flushing over the nickname. But she can’t, because she very much does not want to go out into that storm.

“Maybe we can wait it out?” Vanessa suggests, and Brooke nods.

It’s still going strong half an hour later, and Vanessa’s jumpy, rubbing sweaty hands on her legs.

“I don’t think it’s gonna let up,” Brooke’s mom says in worry. “I’d hate for you to drive in this dark anyway. Maybe you should stay here for the night.”

Vanessa turns to Brooke, who’s biting her lip. Vanessa knows Brooke doesn’t want her to feel uncomfortable staying here, but Vanessa would much rather be in this cozy house than driving in that storm. Brooke gives a nod that lets Vanessa know it’s her call.

“I think we should stay, Brooke,” Vanessa says quickly. “There’s no point driving in this or waiting for it to stop and driving home at midnight or something.” She appeals to reason, not wanting her fear to show.

Brooke agrees, her gaze softening as she takes in Vanessa. Vanessa suddenly realizes she’s folded up into herself, alert for the next crash of thunder.

Brooke’s mom smiles. “I’ll get the guest bed ready…” She heads down the hall and Brooke turns to Vanessa, eyes soft and tender.

“Are you sure you want to stay?” Brooke asks. “I don’t want you to think you have to.”

“I want to,” Vanessa insists.

Thunder rumbles and Vanessa jumps, curling into Brooke’s side on instinct. Brooke seems shocked at first, but softens into the touch.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Brooke says softly. She lowers a tentative arm around Vanessa and her muscles unclench. “We’re safe in here.”

“Sorry,” Vanessa whispers. “I know it’s just a storm—“

“Don’t worry. Everyone’s afraid of something,” Brooke soothes. “I’m really afraid of flying. Small spaces too.”

Vanessa nods shakily. It’s so embarrassing to be scared of thunderstorms as an adult. No one judged her as a kid in her blanket nest, snuggling stuffed animals to protect her from the rain lashing at the windows. Even her brother would stop teasing and let her hold his favorite Batman action figure. Her mom would bring her hot chocolate and comfort her, and Vanessa shouldn’t need comfort anymore. But Brooke is offering it, holding her securely enough to fend off a storm herself, and Vanessa lets her, the safety of Brooke’s arms better than her childhood blankets.

When Brooke’s mom says the guest bed is ready, Vanessa thinks she would rather sleep in Brooke’s arms.

—

The guest bed is a cozy cloud of soft white cotton sheets, and Vanessa wants to jump right in.

Brooke grabs two pillows. “I’ll sleep on the floor,” she says, assembling a makeshift bed with the pillows and spare blankets.

“Oh, you don’t have to–”

“I don’t mind. Really,” Brooke insists.

Brooke’s gaze lingers on Vanessa, and Vanessa tries to catch all the feelings that flash across Brooke’s face. Does Brooke look…hopeful? Like she wants Vanessa to resist, pull her into the bed? Or is she hoping Vanessa lets her stay on the floor so they don’t have to sleep together? Is she worried about making Vanessa uncomfortable? Is Brooke uncomfortable? Vanessa doesn’t want to make Brooke uncomfortable, doesn’t want to force anything, so she agrees, wondering if that’s sadness or something else on Brooke’s face. Vanessa slides between the sheets, and the bed feels way too big with just her in it.

“It’s weird, sleeping in my parents’ house.” Brooke’s voice rings faintly from the floor, and Vanessa moves to the edge of the bed to hear her better. It reminds her of the sleepovers she had as a kid, snuggling in her Little Mermaid sleeping bag and sharing secrets with her friends, everything more exciting when it was past their bedtimes.

“Sleeping in other places doesn’t bother me,” Vanessa says. “I stayed at my parents’ last Christmas and slept like a baby. Even better than a baby.”

“Is the bed okay?” Brooke frets. “I can–”

“It’s fine.” Vanessa pauses. It could be the sleepover memories rubbing off, but she wants to talk with Brooke, talk all night about everything and nothing, in a way she hasn’t since she was thirteen.

“What were you like in school?” she asks, eager for more of the Brooke in that photo album, of the joy in her eyes that Vanessa recognizes now sometimes.

Brooke props herself up on her elbow and peeks up at Vanessa. “Quiet, mostly. You know how some kids just walked in a room and made friends?”

“Yeah.”

Brooke sighs. “I couldn’t do that. I usually read by myself at recess, watching the other kids. I could never think of anything to say, and when I did it was either too late or I was too afraid to say it. I thought everyone would laugh at me. They usually did.”

“I’m sorry,” Vanessa breathes into the space between them.

Brooke shrugs. “It’s okay. I had some friends, but I didn’t mind being on my own. Or I got used to it, anyway. I don’t know if things would’ve been different if I wasn’t as nervous around people, y’know?”

“I get it,” Vanessa says. She would say more, but she knows it’s hard for Brooke to open up, and she doesn’t want to push her.

“What were you like?” Brooke asks.

“I was funny. I made one joke and suddenly I was the class clown. I didn’t always want to be, though,” she admits. “I was smart. I loved reading, loved learning—when I could focus, cause ADHD’s a bitch. But everyone thought I was stupid, ‘cause I was so restless. That’s why I decided to keep being funny instead. I didn’t realize there’s no reason I couldn’t be both.”

She had been friends with everyone—cheerleaders, drama kids, honors students. She had cracked jokes in class and had the charm to win over anyone. But it had been exhausting at times–sometimes she just wanted to curl up in the library and read, but there was no escaping the funny, popular kid gig, no way to try new things or change herself.

“Right,” Brooke agrees. “It’s like you were stuck in a box. Whatever people called you, that’s what you were.”

Vanessa nods, because that’s it. Brooke always gets her, and it’s a relief to have that understanding.

“God, school sucked, didn’t it?” Vanessa mutters. “At least we never have to go back.”

“Shit, yes. You couldn’t pay me to do high school again.”

They keep talking–about school, about childhood, about themselves–until Vanessa’s not even aware of the rain anymore, until there’s nothing in the world but their secrets and laughs floating through the darkness. They keep talking until Brooke’s eyes start drooping, her words growing farther and farther apart as she drifts off around 2am, and Vanessa settles and tries to do the same.

But she can’t sleep. That hole in the mattress where Brooke should be is a hole in Vanessa’s heart. Why didn’t she insist Brooke get in the bed with her? Vanessa usually sleeps well, but her best sleep is always with someone there, with warmth and safety beside her.

As a kid, she slept with her entire stuffed animal collection so no one felt left out. Through all her relationships, it was sleeping with someone that she loved the most–waking up in the night and feeling the safety of someone there, letting arms curve over her waist, the morning sun shining off her girlfriend’s face. There was such intimacy and tenderness in seeing someone sleep, seeing them so vulnerable and knowing that you loved them and would protect them. Maybe it’s better Brooke’s not next to her. Maybe it would bring up those feelings.

Vanessa peers down at Brooke. She’s curled up on her side, lips parted slightly. Vanessa’s heart beats in time with the gentle rise of Brooke’s chest. Sweet Brooke, who held her in the storm and always praised her and brought her coffee just because. Who always thinks of others first and never makes Vanessa do anything she’s uncomfortable with.

She looks at Brooke’s face, soft and untroubled and angelic in her sleep, and her heart swells, and shit, she knows that feeling. She tries to stop it, but it’s like using an umbrella for defense from a hurricane. She wants Brooke here, wants her warmth and intimacy because—

Because she’s in love with Brooke.