#and i want some orders so that I can watch a mindless tv show and do something with my hands lol

[romanarose]

Please Don’t Go?

Santiago Garcia x Gn!reader

Summary: You beg Santi not to leave for work.

Warnings: Extremely depressed reader, Santi worries they might be a danger to themself. Eating problems but not for weight loss, more appetite loss. References to concerns of self harm in some way. Proceed with caution.

Immersability: reader is gender neutral so you can imagine fem, masc, non binary etc. but I generally write fem so if I mess up on pronouns or something lmk. Santi can carry reader.

AN: Written on my phone bc I’m having a time rn and just wanna lay in bed and think of Santiago. Writing will probably sound worse than my usual bullshit.

*****************

Santi had been forced hit snooze 6 times already. You wouldn’t let him leave.

He knew you’d been struggling, and nothing he could do seemed to help. You didn’t respond to anything he tried. He couldn’t get you to go for a walk; the only time you went outside was when he picked you up and took you. Hell, he’d bought and assembled a porch swing just so that you could stay attached to him since you would not let go.

You weren’t eating. He tried cooking home made, he tried ordering your favorites, he even tried getting you desert for dinner just so you’d eat something. In the end he had to threaten to take you to the hospital if you didn’t at least choke down a few bites per meal; Santiago tried his best to make the most nutritious food he could. Soon enough he figured out you’d eat smoothies, and put all the powders, spinach, and super fruits he could get his hands on as well as nutrition shakes. It was better than nothing.

You only washed when he drew you a bath or showered with you.

You didn’t do any of your crafts you enjoyed.

You didn’t laugh at your shows or read books or listen to podcasts.

You weren’t you.

The benefit of consulting is he could do a lot of work at home, which he did so he could help care for you…. But there was another reason. He was scared to leave you alone.

He frequently texted, called when he could, and if you didn’t answer he asked Frankie Ben or Will to check in. They usually found you catatonically watching mindless TV in a daze.

It was getting worse.

“Hey baby, I need to get going, okay? I can get ready in the room if you want…” Santiago attempted to get up, but you caught his hand. With sad, already tearful eyes at 7 AM, you look up at him where he sat.

“Please don’t go?”

“Mi amor I have to… I have a presentation to do….”

He watched your lip quiver, letting go of his hand and sliding it back under the covers and look away from him, dejected.

“Okay.” You were closing off from him.

“I love you.” He said, again and again and again as he dressed, brushed his teeth, made breakfast and placed a breakfast sandwich in front of you, but only short responses. You weren’t mad. If you were mad, he could handle it… but your were sad, and that hurt him, so, so much. He’d hid all the sharp knives, razors, belts, anything he thinks might be a danger to you, but he didn’t feel right leaving. His gut told he couldn’t go…

Santiago called his boss, an old army pal of his. “Hey man… listen I uh… I’m not feeling good, can Will do the presentation? I can send him over the notes and-“

“No one knows it better than you, Pope. C’mon, you’ve been working on this for months, what’s wrong?”

“I just uhhh I have a cold, that’s all.”

“That’s not it, is it?”

Damn him. He knew Santi too well. “No, it’s not.” Santi explained it, how badly you were doing and how worried he was. That gut feeling.

His boss listened. “Do you think you can come in for just the presentation?”

“Yeah, yeah man I can do that.” Benny could come over for those two hours, keep you company.

“Okay, just come in at noon and then talk to me, we’ll see if we can’t get you some time off for this. After this project is done, me and Will can take on some of your duties.

“I appreciate it I do, but I don’t want you guys to have to-“

“Pope, your family is sick, it’s doesn’t matter that it’s mental. They need you. You’d do the same for us.”

*

When Santi came back into the room, he found you softly crying and promptly climbed back into bed after kicking off his shoes. Santiago pulled you into his arms and held you close as you cried… softly, he cried with you. He was worried, so fucking worried.

“It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart… it’ll be okay. I’m gonna take care of you. Whatever you need, I’m here… but baby?” With a gentle hand, Santi tilted your face up too look at him. He really was so, so handsome. Dark skin, sharp jaw, and normal steely eyes wet with worry. “We need to get you help, okay? We need to get you in with a psych. We can’t do this alone.”

You consider for a moment before burrying your head into his chest. “Okay.”

*******************

Idk I’m in a mood.

Started writing this, roommate came home and tried talking to me, I was already trying not to cry so she asked me if I was okay which naturally made me cry. I’ve never cried in front of her before so I think she was surprised but gave me a really nice hug.

No tag list bc I’m on my phone and tired but I’ll rb tomorrow with the tag list if I find the energy

Love y’all, please take care of yourselves.

#santiago garcia #Santiago Garcia x reader #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #Santiago Garcia hurt comfort #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #santiago pope garcia #hurt comfort #tw depression #tw sh

[sethsclearwater]

could you PLEASEEEEE do a blurb for the request that was asking about the early days of the imprint where Paul is still trying to figure out how he works in the dynamic since she was dating seth before? 🙏🙏🙏

omg YES!! 🤍🤍

...

"paul," you smiled at your other imprinter as you and seth entered emily's house. he offered you a small smile from his place on the couch and you giggled, happy to see him.

it had only been a few weeks since you found out paul had also imprinted on you and you were still working on adjusting to the whole thing. seth had encouraged you to see paul whenever you wanted but you hadn't really done that much with him at this point.

"you good with staying here for a few minutes while i go pick up the food with emily?" seth asked you softly and you nodded, spinning around to face him and press a quick kiss to his lips.

"you'll be quick?" you asked and he nodded, chuckling softly as you pulled him into a tight hug, "and safe?" you added, peeking up at him which had him chuckling again.

"promise." he reassured, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the crown of your head before he letting you go so him and emily could head out to pick up the food they ordered for everyone.

with his absence, you immediately headed over to your other imprinter who was sitting on the couch watching some mindless tv show, "mind if i lay down?" you asked softly, coming to lay down on the couch so your head was in paul's lap when he nodded.

paul, despite his very cocky nature, was very hesitant with you, always very cautious about how he talked to you and touched you so it was usually up to you to initiate any physical contact.

"you know you can touch me, right?" you asked teasingly, rolling onto your back so you could look up at paul who just rolled his eyes at you, resting his hand on your hip and gently squeezing the soft flesh there.

"better?" he asked, tone laced with teasing as you giggled and shook your head.

"want you to give me strokes," you explained and he rolled his eyes again, chuckling as you rolled onto your side again, letting out a happy sigh when he ran his fingers under your t-shirt and gently stroked his fingers up and down your side.

after a few moments, you decided to break the silence, "so are you coming camping with everyone this weekend? i thought you, me, and seth could share a tent." you explained, giggling when you peeked over your shoulder to see him looking like a deer caught in headlights at your suggestion.

"well?" you giggled and he let out a soft sigh, nodding.

"i'll be there," he confirmed offering you a small smile as you sat up to press a soft kiss to his cheek which had him freezing up on your again.

"good," you smiled, laying back down and quickly settling into his lap as he went back to stroking his hand up and down your side.

the two of you remained like that for a while, just allowing him to gently stroke you while you watched some stupid home renovation show.

you were quick to drift off, paul's stroking combined with the dull tv show playing in the background helping you fall asleep in your other imprinter's lap. when paul noticed, he was careful not to do anything to wake you up, only letting out a breathy laugh when seth and emily came back in a few minutes later with the takeout they ordered.

"she sleeping?" seth asked softly, chuckling when paul nodded, "if you wanna wake her up you can. she might be grumpy though so i'd be careful." he teased as he helped emily get the takeout out of the bags.

paul nodded, gaze softening as he looked down at your sleeping figure in his lap. he decided against waking you up, instead letting you relax for a few more minutes before you woke up on your own.

you let out a soft sigh, blearily knuckling at your eyes as you woke up. you rolled onto your back, looking up at paul who offered you a small smile, "how long was i asleep for?" you murmured, taking his free hand and interlacing your fingers, offering his hand a soft squeeze.

"maybe 20 minutes?" he guessed and you nodded, smiling as your other imprinter came over with a box of fried rice for you and paul.

seth smiled when he saw you up, crouching in front of the two of you, "hey pretty girl," he mused, chuckling when you leaned over to press a soft kiss to his lips, "paul keeping you good company?" he asked teasingly, chuckling when you giggled and nodded.

"eat some fried rice, yea? you haven't eaten anything in a few hours." he cooed as he handed you the takeout box and a spoon, "you can share with paul," he added teasingly before he got up and headed back into the kitchen to grab his own food.

you turned to peek over at paul, scooping up a spoonful of fried rice before offering it to him. paul gladly took the spoon from you, eating the rice before getting another spoonful and offering it back to you.

seth came back over a moment later, sitting down on the couch and lifting your legs so they could rest in his lap while you all ate your takeout. the rest of the night went off relatively peacefully, the three of you enjoying each other's company on the couch while you watched some tv shows and talked about the upcoming camping trip.

#poly!paulxreaderxseth #poly!sethxreaderxpaul #seth clearwater #paul lahote #seth clearwater x reader #paul lahote x reader #seth clearwater fluff #seth clearwater smut #seth clearwater angst #paul lahote smut #paul lahote fluff #paul lahote angst #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote blurb #seth clearwater imagine #seth clearwater blurb #twilight #tts #the twilight saga #twilight imagine #twilight blurb #twilight wolves #twilight wolfpack #twilight wolves imagine #twilight wolfpack imagine #sam uley #emily young #jared cameron #embry call #jacob black

[ladylooch]

i can imagine there are days when emma and lio just snuggle in bed all day while timo is on a road trip or something 🥹

Emma rests her cheek gently on Lio’s little head. Her palm comes across his forehead, feeling the warmth starting to fade with his fever. His long lashes kiss his cheek bones as he struggles to breathe around the gunk in his lungs. Emma sighs, reaching for her phone to check the time. It is bedtime. She is going to try to transfer Lio to his room if she can. She needs some space after being clung to all day by her sick boy. To begin their bedtime routine, she pulls up Timo’s contact on her phone, clicking the FaceTime button. 

“Hey baby, good timing. I’m just getting back to my room.” Timo says. He holds the phone in his palm looking down at her, smiling as he enters his hotel room. “How is our boy?”

“He is sleeping.” She turns the phone so he can see Lio passed out next to her. His pacifier is tucked between his lips, slighting falling out. “Finally. He stopped fighting the medicine about twenty minutes ago.”

“He is like his mama that way.” Emma tisks, tilting the screen back to her. Lio snuggles deeper into the side of her breast. 

“I wanna be there.” Timo whines.

“We want you here too, T.” 

“I wish I could say I will be soon, but it really isn’t that soon.” He tosses the content of his pockets onto the TV stand, then goes to the bed to kick his shoes off. He lays on his back, holding the phone up above his face. “How is he doing?”

“Okay. I’m less worried than earlier.”

“Good.” Timo nods encouragingly. “What did you do the rest of the day?”

“This.” 

“Mmm, did you get some food in you?”

“Yeah a food delivery showed up at the door about an hour ago.”

“Oh!” Timo feigns surprise.

“Thank you.” Emma murmurs genuinely. With Lio sick, she hasn’t had time to go to the store and when Timo heard that, he ordered up some essentials to be delivered to hold them over. 

“Gonna take care of you whether I am there or not.”

“I love that about you.” 

“What else do you love?” He wiggles his eyebrows. 

“Not that kind of FaceTime, daddy.” Timo smirks. 

“What about after you put him to bed?” 

“When he goes to bed, mama is going to bed.” Timo pouts at his wife. “Unless you’re gonna give me a show, stud?”

“Stud factory is closed today.” Timo says through a yawn.

“Yeah? Hard day sleeping on the plane then going to dinner with the boys?” 

“You forgot worrying about home in there too.” Emma pauses her teasing, seeing the seriousness in her husband’s blue eyes. Although it is exhausting to be here, she can empathize with how hard being gone would be. “Give him a kiss for me?” Emma turns her head to the side, kissing along Lee’s warm head. “I love you two. A lot. I miss you.” Timo whispers regretfully.

After a few more minutes of quiet chatting, Emma lets Timo go. She looks down at Lio all snuggled up into her and suddenly can’t bare the thought of putting him in his own bed. Not when her husband is on the road craving this exact thing. So instead, she gets up, grabs new PJs for Lio to change into before getting her own PJs on as well. She spends the remaining hour and change she is awake, stroking her son’s back, watching a tv show that is as mindless as she needs it to be right now. 

One day, she will want nights like this back.

#tm: loving & leaving

[wanderdreamer]

tagged by @johnbly !! eeee thank you!!

Favorite Color: can i be annoying? i’m gonna be annoying. uk that color of water in like the caribbean or hawaii or other tropical places like that? where it’s kinda like turquoise but the farther out you actually go on the water the richer it gets with layers and layers of deep blue and light blue and blue-green all combining? yeah that’s my favorite color.

Last Song: oh boy okay well the song i listen to like every day is “Didn’t I Do Well” by James Newton Howard so yes it is a movie score and yes i suppose it is the last song i listened to yet again i am not ashamed

Last Movie: currently in the middle of my lotr/hobbit autumnal rewatch but i did take a mini break and watched “Smilla’s Sense of Snow” when i was with my mother recently because she had been talking about how she wanted to see it again

Currently Watching: . . . look i mainly watch movies ok i’m not a big tv show person but like every six months or so my brain goes “feed me some episodic mindless viewing” and i end up watching some criminal procedure show. so yeah anyway we’re right in the thick of it now and i’m actively binging law & order (mike cutter i adore you)

Other Stuff I Watched This Year: like i said, not really a big tv person so if i do end up watching something it’s typically because of or with another person. so with that noted i watched a ton of those new paramount+ shows when i was with my father (1923, tulsa king, special ops: lioness, etc.) i caught up on ted lasso season 3 with my mother and my sister, caught up on shadow and bone season 2, i did rewatch all of flashpoint again (hello episodic viewing necessity), oh and the last of us!! so good!!

Shows I Dropped This Year: umm literally anything that ever came out on disney+. i started off watching some of them a couple years ago when they came out but there have just been *so many* and i just don’t have an interest in their stories so this year has been cold turkey on em all.

Currently Reading: i finished Persuasion and Price of Freedom not too long ago, so firstly that can help show my interest in varying genres, but now i’m kinda in between books and i need to find something good . . .

wow this turned into a great opportunity to just talk about myself eek. but i encourage all to do the same! anyone feel free to do this and in the meantime i’ll also tag @esta-elavaris @mostlikelytobeagainstcapitalism and @hollandorks if any of you are at all inclined:)

#wandering thoughts

[not-poignant]

hello pia! feel free to delete this if it’s too personal but i’d love to hear about your degree, what you learned from it, and how you think it has informed the way you write (whether it has or hasn’t!). i’m studying for a different degree, still humanities, but i’d love to hear about your degree since i.. well when i was in hs i didn’t know that it was an option. also if the above is too personal, please recommend some texts to learn abt mass comms .. thank you!

Hi anon,

I did my degree/s (Media Studies + Mass Communications majors, Scriptwriting (Drama, Film, Short Film) + Creative Writing (Poetry, Short Story, Literature, SFF) minors) back in 1999, so honestly, some of the information I learned then is out of date, and you're definitely better off looking at a university curriculum now for decent texts on mass communications. Even the Masters I did over 10 years ago, lol. I am an old.

You have to understand when I was in university for Mass Comm, the internet as we know it, and social media, literally didn't exist. And though 'Rupert Murdoch still owns a ton of Telcos' is still true, things like Wikipedia didn't exist, lol. The 'please don't use Wikipedia as a reference' didn't exist as a sentence, because Wikipedia just...didn't exist.

The media landscape has changed.

I've kept up with aspects of media studies that interest me (representations of mental health in the media, for example), but since the university texts still often cost hundreds of dollars, I can't get a ton of them every year and read them. You might be surprised what you can find in university bookstores in the clearance section, because books aren't in the curriculum anymore but are still likely to be 15 years more up-to-date than what I was taught with, lol.

I don't really know how to answer your specific questions though. There were a lot of different units within the degree, so I learned a lot from it, I don't know how to condense that down.

Probably the most important things I took with me are that media (fiction) does not have a 1:1 correlation with reality, and that we are not all mindless vessels with an inability to negotiate the media we watch (otherwise we'd buy everything in advertising ever), people who believe 'high art' is better than 'low art' are elitist ignorant dicks who don't actually understand art at all (if you've ever disparaged reality TV or soap operas, you are in this category, with soap operas giving you a side order of heavy misogyny to boot), media literacy is crucial and needs to be taught and prioritised on par (if not higher than) english fiction literacy (kids engage in more media than books, they should have more media literacy than book literacy), and that it's always important to know the politics and values of the people who own the news media you're watching (and that almost all news media is homogenised).

The biggest gift it gave me was to entirely remove my shame over watching or consuming any kind of media. I don't know what a guilty pleasure is, because guilty pleasures are a sign that you have some more work to do on unpacking your issues (often internalised misogyny believe it or not) over watching certain shows or listening to certain music etc. and finding joy in it. I feel NO shame in anything I watch, rewatch, love, get the most out of. Anon, I have done assignments on Big Brother and gotten high distinction/s for it. I've watched Misfits and gotten high distinction/s for it. I'm in the Golden Key Society because I watched a lot of Studio Ghibli and a lot of romcoms. Media studies does what creative writing doesn't - unpacks all your shame over enjoying different genres (sadly creative writing teaches a lot of that shame and can genre shame as well, it's extraordinarily outdated in many curriculums in that way).

It is so liberating to just watch whatever the fuck I want, and listen to whatever music I want, and not give a shit whoever knows I watch or listen to it. Like, I just... literally who cares. It's all art. It all means something and then I get to choose its further meaning. I get to decide what media I won't consume and why (usually around the politics and actions of the creator/s or actor/s, JKR can go to hell, or just not liking the show - I also feel no shame not liking things that everyone else likes), but it's never a choice based in shame or guilt. It is...truly, such a wonderful feeling when you realise there's literally no reason on this earth to have a guilty pleasure if you can think for yourself and understand why you've been conditioned to feel 'ashamed' for watching certain genres (surprise, it's usually racism or xenophobia or misogyny!)

Like, I did a unit called Psychology, Psychoanalysis and Cinema (Psych Psych and Cinema as we called it), which was a tremendous amount of fun and let me know that psychology is literally in everything but that representations of psychology in literally everything tends to be not great lmao. I did a unit called Postmodern Wetlands which literally analysed the relationship between swamp representation in mass media (particular horror films as relating to the monstrous feminine) and what that means for environmentalism which changed my entire relationship to my body and the environment permanently. Idk how to describe that unit to anyone who hasn't taken it, but it was literally life-changing, lol.

It definitely influences my writing style, partly because I write serials based off of like... scriptwriting techniques I was taught for television drama back then. In terms of how media studies influences it - well mass communications probably not so much, and then media studies a whole lot, lol. (Mass Comm =/= Media Studies. One focuses on telecommunications/telcos/ISP providers/internet cables even, politics and the vehicles with which we spread mass media, the second one focuses more on the analysis of the products/works/pieces of art that end up on that mass media. One is a lot more discussion of 'which television stations do China / Fairfax / Murdoch own' or 'how are those internet sea cables going and how's the terrorism around that?' vs. 'what messages does the TV on each of these stations send').

But media studies influences my writing a ton, but I couldn't tell you how anon, aside from those two units I specifically mention above lol. Oh and the fact that we had to take a mandatory philosophy unit called Critical Thinking, which should be mandatory for every degree. That definitely taught me how to think critically, which...a lot of people don't know how to do! I probably couldn't even tell you the rest of how it influenced me, if you asked me 2 decades ago when I was actively studying it. I'd like to think it just makes me a more nuanced writer, and absolutely Teflon when it comes to fanpol / antis / anti-shippers, lol. But who knows!

I still think looking at current university curriculums for Media Studies (also known as Media Analysis in some other countries) is probably the best place to find recs. But you can also check out the books on media in my Goodreads list and go by star rating.

#asks and answers #pia on media studies #media studies and mass comm #they're both very different #you can do media studies and not know anything about mass comm #and vice versa #but they do go hand in hand #mass comm is still an area i find fascinating #because it's where the big politics are in the world #and also where the terrorism etc. is #but it can get heavy very quickly for that reason

[boyfrillish]

sweet like ice cream

Fandom: Pokémon Black 2 & White 2

Pairing: Hugh x Nate

Word count: 500

Notes: I wrote this at the beginning of November when I was in a mood for some silly, mindless fluff featuring one of my favourite comfort ships. I probably took some liberties and also Hugh is a sweetheart while Nate is pining.

~

When Team Plasma retreats, Nate and Hugh leave the Castelia Sewers. Nate blinks at the sky and the sun reflecting from the glass facades. The Sewers aren’t as bad as you’d expect, but he’s glad to be outside in daylight and breathe fresh air again. A bustling metropolis like Castelia City is nothing like his hometown, but Nate likes it here. The scenery is beautiful in its own way and the many corners and towers invite for exploring, just like any route or cave does.

“Great job, Nate!” Hugh says. “I knew I could count on you.”

“We’re an amazing team!” Nate says, smiling. “Thanks for healing my Pokémon down there.”

“Anytime.” Hugh’s lips quirk up. “Hey, how about we have a break and get some Casteliacones? You’ve always wanted to try those, right? The ads were all over the TV ages ago.”

Nate’s heart flutters, almost like the thrill of Pokémon battles. Then again, this sensation isn’t news at all. “You remember that?”

“Of course I do. So, how about it? My treat, as thanks for backing me up after I pulled you into this mess.”

“Okay.”

They walk along Oceanfront Road, headed for Mode Street. Not a single person stands in line for ice cream. Hugh orders for both of them, and Nate can’t hide his smile, rocking on his feet to channel the energy. It’s a date. A friend date.

That’s all he could ask for.

Walking on ahead with their ice cream cones, they find a spot to sit at the Central Plaza, with their Pokémon partners relaxing right beside them. Everything is so perfectly movie-like.

But just when Nate wants to have the first taste of his delicious treat, a nearby Pokémon’s cry startles him. His ice cream cone drops straight down, and he can only watch in horror as it forms a sad, gooey puddle on the concrete.

“No! My ice cream!”

Hugh huffs a laugh, watching as Dewott and Pignite interrupt their playtime to jump at the opportunity for a treat. “Hey, at least our partners still enjoy it.”

“That’s nice, but…” Nate pouts. “I really wanted to try it.”

“Aw, come on. Don’t cry, Nate.” Hugh pats his shoulder comfortingly — and offers his cone. “Here. You can finish mine.”

“Wait, for real?”

“For real,” Hugh says. “Now no more whining, okay? Show me your best smile.”

Nate laughs and throws his arms around him in an enthusiastic half-hug. “You’re the best, Hugh!”

Hugh chuckles under his breath, squeezing his shoulder to return the hug, and Nate feels like his heart is going to burst. Sharing an ice cream cone with his best friend slash secret crush — that’s even better than the movies.

Nate may not be ready yet to express his feelings in new ways, nervous to test the waters of what may wait beyond friendship — maybe a little nervous about rejection — but he treasures every moment spent together. He can’t wait for their adventure through Unova to continue, his path intertwining with Hugh’s at every step.

AO3 link

#pokemon bw2 #pokemon black 2 and white 2 #hugh x nate #greyskyshipping #trainer nate #rival hugh #pokemon black and white 2 #boyfrillish writing tag

[clavainov]

The Parable of Perfect Silence by Christian Wiman (2018)

Today I woke and believed in nothing. A grief at once intimate and unfelt, like the death of a good friend’s dog.

Tired of the mind reaching back in the past for rescue I praise the day. I don’t mean merely some mythical, isolate instant like the mindless mindfulness specialist who at the terminal cancer convention (not that it was called that) exhorted the new year’s crop of slaughters (ditto) to “taste” the day, this one unreplicable instant of being alive. (The chicken glistened.) Nor do I mean a day devoid of past and future as craved that great craze of minds and times Fernando Pessoa, who wanted not “the present” but reality itself, things in their thingness rather than the time that measures them. Time is in the table at which I sit and in the words I type. In the red-checked shirt my father’s mother used to wear when she was gardening and which I kept because it held her smell (though it does no longer) there is still plenty of time.

Two murderers keep their minds alive while they wait to die. They talk through slots in their doors of whatever mercy or misery the magazine has ordained for the day —  the resurgence of the Taliban in Afghanistan, say, ten signs that a relationship is on the rocks. When their communion flags, as communions will, they rekindle it with personal revelations, philosophical digressions, humor. This is a true story, one of them says sometimes by way of preface, as if that gave the moment more gravity, asked of the listener a different attention, at once resisted and reinforced an order wherein every hour has its sound, every day its grace, and every death is by design.

“Love is possible for anyone,” I hear the TV talk-show host say, which is true in the way most things in this life are true, which is to say, false, unless and until the nullifying, catalyzing death is felt. Love is possible for anyone because it is equally impossible for everyone. To be is to be confronted with a void, a blankness, a blackness that both appeals and appalls. Once known — known by the void, I mean — one has three choices. Walk away, and unlearn the instinct of awe. Walk along, and learn to believe that awe asks nothing of you. Are you with me, love?

(For love read faith.)

Naked once and after a rat, my father cried, “Die, vermin, die!” banging the broomstick over and over on the floor so incorrigibly dirty it might as well have been the earth itself. This is my mother’s story, though I was there, I’m told, and no small part of the pandemonium. We were five souls crammed into one life, and so incorrigibly poor — or was that fear? — we all slept in one room and shared one great big chester drawers, as we called it, and not with irony but in earnest ignorance, just as like meant lack, as in “How much do you like bein’ done with your chemo?” and just as I and every other child I knew, before we tucked into our lemon meringue pie, solemnly wiped the calf slobbers off. Ah, local color, peasant levity, the language fuming and steaming rich as the mist of rot that rises off the compost heap (“kitchen midden,” you might hear an old Scot still say). When do we first know? That there’s a world to which we’ve been, not oblivious, exactly, but so inside we couldn’t see it, who now see nothing else? Heaven is over. Or hell. Did you forget the rat? It thumps and thrashes like a poltergeist inside the chest of drawers but somehow, though my father is fast, and though his rage is becoming real, every drawer he opens is empty. What happens when we die, every child of every father eventually asks. What happens when we don’t is the better question.

To kill a wasp on water is the peak of speed. My brother who is other has a mind of lead. I with my stinging griefs watch from away. How can it be there are no adults left? What matters here is timing, not time. His hand is high and white above the blue. A wasp is also atom and urge, hover and touch. Even wings are not a clean distinction. Down comes the slap like a rifle shot. What vengeance can there be on blank necessity? My brother who is other has a way. His hand is high and white. And then it’s not.

Once when my father’s mother’s health was failing and she found it more and more difficult to tend to the tiny family plot at Champion, Texas, which is less town than time at this point, a blink of old buildings and older longings the rare driver flashes past, I took it upon myself to salt the graves as I must have read somewhere would work for unwanted growths. As indeed it did. In the months after, every Sunday when we spoke, she thanked me for the blankness, the blackness, (my words, of course) this new ease I had allowed her mind. Until one day leaning over with flowers the leached earth opened and my eighty-year-old grandmother tumbled right down among the bones of the woman from whom she’d first emerged. To see that image you have to be that sky. It has to happen in you, that crushing calling viewless blue that is so deeply in you that it is not you. “O, Law’, honey, I like to died.”

You don’t climb out of poverty so much as carry it with you. Some shell themselves with wealth. Some get and spend, get and spend, skimming existence like a Jesus lizard. But for those whose souls have known true want — whose souls perhaps are true want —  money remains, in some sense, permanently inert, like an erotic thought that flashes through a eunuch’s brain. In 1980 my father bought his first airplane, a scream-proof four-seater we crammed five inside, which he considerately slammed into a sorghum field alone. Unkillable, he killed the next ten years with work and wives, then bought another, and brought it down in the solitary fire that was his aspect and atmosphere. Homes, schemes, thirty years of savings plowed into a sign company (!) that did not, it turned out, exist. A hole is hard to carry.

People ask if I believe in God and the verb is tedious to me. Not wrong, not offensive, not intrusive, not embarrassing. Tedious. Today I saw a hawk land on Elizabeth’s chimney. It sat with its bone frown and banker’s breast above the proud houses of Hamden. Are you with me? Then see, too, a lump of animate ash rising from the flue (or so it seems) to be a pigeon fluttering dumbly down next to that implacable raptor, suddening a world of strange relations wherein there is no need for fear, or far, or meat.

There was a man made of airplane parts, one of which was always missing. He wandered the hospital grounds in search of a rudder, an aileron, or some other fragment that would let him fly from this place where he was not meant to be. There was a woman who emitted invective ceaselessly, dispassionately, an obscenity machine. One timid gentleman saved Saran wrap for five full years and every night wrought an ever-more-solid ball with which, it turned out, he planned to bash the skull of the first soul he saw the dawn God blessed his weapon. (A success story, alas.) Another man with anvil hands sat six months of nights in faith that there would come occasion of darkness, unguardedness, and vision sufficient to rip from its socket one of my father’s bright blue eyes. (Ditto.) My father moved among them like a father. He attended and pacified, he instructed and consoled. Late to the trade, he worked too much, and trusted his heart, no doubt, more than he should, but was, by all accounts, at this one thing, and despite the end, good.

For love read faith into these lines that so obviously lack it. For love let words turn to life in the way life turns to world under the observer’s eye, the swirl of particles with their waves and entanglements, their chance and havoc, resolving into some one thing: a raptor on a rooftop, say. No power on earth can make it stay. But is it lost or released into formlessness when we look away?

To be is to believe that the man or woman who inscribed with an idiosyncratic but demanding calligraphy Fuck da money — Trust no one on the rough blanket of the residential motel where my father spent the last two years of his rough residential life intended the note of defiant, self-conscious (da!) humor that left my father, whom I had not seen in years, and I, whom years had seen grow sere, far even from myself, erupting in laughter until we cried.

Before my good friend’s good dog died ten times a day she pressed her forehead to his “to confirm the world and her place in it.” Now she won’t even say his name. Strange how the things that burn worst in one heart one must keep silent to keep.

Ten to one you thought of men. The murderers, I mean. But no. This is a true story. There is another cell, you see, in which a woman I have known since childhood, and since childhood have known to be suspended on a wire of time but nimble-witted nonetheless, lies on the cold stone floor. She is even more naked than they have made her. She has killed no one not even herself. Punishment, perhaps, or some contagion of fate, finds her here, her hair shorn, both wrists wrapped, her eyes open, pondering the parable of perfect silence.

Remember, he said, memory is a poor man’s prison. Make to have and to love one live infinitive, then blessed my brow with the sign of the cross. I woke without a chance to ask the obvious: But what if all our songs are songs of loss?

I felt nothing when you died, Father. (As if I ever called you that.) It is a long cold seep, this grief. The day itself was hot enough to make the devil sweat, as more than one person, with less than one mind, muttered to me. What I remember: two children, too tan and “clad in famine” (Dahlberg), look up from their parched front yard, their sad little sprinkler like a flower of hell. I don’t mean I saw them, though I did. I mean they are what I remember, fleshed. That town. A hint of new prison business, and the Square’s been rewhitened, but mostly it’s beastly, a blast site, our old house less house than nest, and even the undertaker, a friend from high school, has graduated to heroin. You would have been right at home, and I guess in a ghoulish way you were, overdressed, overdosed, over. Hard wind at the graveside. Hard lives hardly there. The canopy whipped and flapped. A bouquet skipped over the graves like a strange elation. Something stuck, and an ageless Indian (he might have been Mom’s long-dead granddad) nimbled over the casket’s contraptions to make it go. You go into the ground again, and the silence assaults like heat, and the clumps of would-be grievers unclump and head for cars, and Mom cracks a tallboy and two jokes before we’re on the highway. The first I forget, and of the second I recall only a nakedness, and wild crying, and a rat.

When the doctor said I’d likely die I thought of my father telling me he’d learned to read a cancer look, that some people had it before they had it, so to speak. When the young guard demanded to unwrap the Snickers I’d bought for my sister my father scoffed: “All this energy expended on candy when you could take this can” — he held her Coke up in front of our eyes — “and cut a throat.” When my sister, chewing her chocolate with ravenous indifference, paused and stared balefully off at the even more baleful brown beyond the barbed wire, it did not occur to me that it was inspiration. When I began writing these lines it was not, to be sure, inspiration but desperation, to be alive, to believe again in the love of God. The love of God is not a thing one comprehends but that by which — and only by which — one is comprehended. It is like the child’s time of pre-reflective being, and like that time, we learn it by its lack. Flashes and fragments, flashes and fragments, these images are not facets of some unknowable whole but entire existences in themselves, like worlds that under God’s gaze shear and shear and, impossibly, are: untouching, entangled, sustained, free. If all love demands imagination, all love demands withdrawal. We must create the life creating us, and must allow that life to be —  and to be beyond, perhaps, whatever we might imagine. I, too, am more (and less) than anything I imagine myself to be. “To know this,” says Simone Weil, “is forgiveness.”

It is an air you enter, not an act you make. It is the will’s frustration, and is the will’s fruition. It is to wade a blaze one night that I once crossed — a young man, and lost —  to find a woman made of weather sweeping the street in front of her shack. It is another country. It is a language I don’t know. La por allá, la por allá, I repeat in my sleep. The over there.

Tired of the mind reaching back in the past for rescue I praise the day my father woke in the motel room where all five of us were sleeping, which is not even past but a flame as I say it, and see it, the little lighter now he is using to find his clothes. I who have not slept in forty-five years am awake for the first time rising carefully out of my pallet on the floor and feeling my way beyond the bodies of my brother and sister toward the shade that is my father to stand in this implausible light where to whisper would be too much, and anyway what’s next is known, Dad, and near, the nowhere diner, hot chocolate and the funny pages, and the consolation that comes when there is nothing to console.

#poetry #christian wiman #the parable of perfect silence

[how--the-story-ends]

The Para That Started It All

    Katie was in her dorm at Auradon’s University.  Still trying to find a part of herself- her passion –and with her mother trying to find her safety in a world Scarlett was still certain would be unsafe for pirates, she had continued on in her education, studying Accounting with a minor in Fashion.  She hated it, but she had to admit, as much as she liked Ben as person, he and Mal seemed so content in their love they failed to realize that the values they held dear continued to exclude many.  And that while for them, it might be a new fairy tale, for most, it was gradually morphing into a pretty dystopia. Accordingly, Katie had decided to finish her degree, then quietly depart Auradon.  She had some hopes of persuading Scarlett, Jack, Giselle, and her Uncle Josh to make a run for it to Wonderland.  How, she didn’t know, as sailing in the Boiling Seas required special knowledge, but she thought perhaps they could barter passage beyond the Boiling Seas to the Edge of the World.  For surely, there had to be a place beyond Auradon that would still accept them.  

           Still, for her to travel unnoticed, she’d needed to keep her head down, and so she’d kept up with her studies and avoided making much of a ruckus.  Still, as she stared down at her Accounting homework, part of her wanted to scream. Surely, even her father wouldn’t have wanted her to be this unhappy, if her unhappiness was what it meant for her to be respectable?  Even Admiral James Norrington, in the end, had defied the mores of his world and laid down his life for what he perceived to be justice.  

           Justice. With that word echoing in her brain, Katie rubbed her temples, deciding she needed a break.  She flipped the TV on, intending to watch a simple, mindless, television show, when suddenly, the entire screen went black before erupting into a breaking news bulletin.

           “Oh, bloody hell, what now?” Katie crossed her arms, “Let me guess:  Mal and Ben are expecting a bundle of joy?”

           She fell into a stunned silence as she recognized the distinctive skyline of Agrabah.

           “Welcome to Auradon News Nightly,” said Claudine Frollo, “We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming with this special announcement.”  She paused for dramatic effect, before saying gravely, “Prince Aziz al-Hamed of Agrabah has renounced his right to the throne.  In a statement released moments ago, the prince stated, ‘After months of careful thought and consideration, I have decided to renounce my right to the throne of Agrabah.  I believe that my younger brother can better serve its people as sultan, and while I will always have gratitude for the years I have spent as Agrabah’s representative in Auradon, I think he should be the one to lead Agrabah to its future.’ His parents, Sultan Aladdin and Sultana Jasmine, have also released a brief statement, ‘While we were saddened to hear of Aziz’s decision, we respect his choices.  While he is no longer going to be sultan, he remains a beloved member of our family and has the option to maintain his princely status if he wishes. Further announcements will be made in due time.’”

           As Claudine prattled on about how unexpected the announcement was, and what Aziz could possibly be hoping to do with his future now that he would no longer be sultan, and why he would make such a choice to begin with, Katie’s jaw dropped. She’d grown up with liars, and learned all about how Auradon crafted its publicity.  From the phrasing in the statements, she realized several important things: (1) Aziz  might have been thinking about it himself, but he’d certainly never let his parents know, (2) his parents had only just found out, and (3) his parents had released a statement in order to cover the fact they had absolutely no idea what their son intended.

           Frankly, neither did Katie, and she liked to think she and Aziz got along.

           Katie scrambled for her cell phone, and dialed his number.  To her surprise, he actually picked up (to her surprise, since he had to be getting hounded by reporters), sounding rather pleased with himself:

           “Hi, Katie.”

           “al-Hamed,” Katie said distinctly, “Claudine just said you’re renouncing the throne.”

           “I am.”

           “But why?” she asked, “I mean….it was always so important to you.”  Katie remembered that bit with sort of a bittersweet understanding, because over the years, he’d had to bow out of their friendship several times before reconnecting. Publicity reasons, he’d assured her, having to do with the heir to the throne being seen associating with the daughter of known pirates (of whom some Auradonians considered little better than criminals).  Aziz had always reached out when the furor of Agrabah died down, but Katie had always, always, understood that he’d had different responsibilities than most people.  She might not get why he constantly sacrificed himself for Agrabah, but the fact was, he’d always done so.  Until now.

           Aziz paused for a moment, then replied, “Mal and Ben inspired me.”

           This pronouncement was so unlike him that Katie was momentarily taken aback.  Katie had teased him for years about his inability to lie, but his training in media engagement seemed to be playing a role here.

           Why? she thought, Why is he talking to me like a news reporter?  I’m not a reporter, I’m his-

           Then Katie heard a click on the line, and her eyes narrowed.

           Someone was listening.

           What the hell? Who would spy on them?  Why?  

           Realizing that Katie would have to make a believable lie for both of them, she chose her words carefully, “Ah.  So the king and queen showed you that you could choose your own future, no matter your past?  Inspiring you to live out your dreams, even though they’re different than what your parents wanted for you?”

           Aziz’s voice was cheerful, “Exactly!  I mean, my parents aren’t exactly Maleficent, but Queen Mal…what she did showed me I could have my own future, and my own happiness, too.”

           “Uh-huh,” Katie replied as the click happened again. Their eavesdropper had apparently left, but she was still rattled.

           “Yeah,” Aziz said, “How about I meet you?  We can chat more about it.”

           “Sounds good.  Now?”

           “Yes.  Our place.”

           It took her a second to figure out what he meant. Surely any eavesdropper, if they’d somehow remained and only tried to fool the two that they’d left, would think Aziz meant where they first met:  Auradon Prep.

           The reality was quite different.  

           “Sure.  I’ll see you soon.  Oh, and al-Hamed?  Be careful,” Katie did her best to hide the truth behind her warning, “You were popular before, but I think you’ll be even more popular now.”

*

           Katie hadn’t dared let on that she was going on more than a weekend trip.  Still, in her overnight bag, she’d stashed her most valuable possessions and some practical niceties:  James Norrington’s sword, a necklace fashioned after a doubloon from the Isla de la Muerta, boots, jacket, toothbrush, deodorant, sunglasses, clothes to blend into Tortuga, gold, and the dummy ATM card Scarlett had bought her on the black market in case she’d ever have to run.  She played with her cell phone for a moment, trying to decide what to do with it.  On the one hand, if someone was spying on her, they’d use it to track her.  On the other, if she left it in her room after just mentioning she’d meet Aziz somewhere, their pursuer would get suspicious. Biting her lip, she comforted herself that Auradon Prep would just have to be a pit stop on her journey.

           Katie bought the most basic ticket for the train using her regular account, leading her potential stalker to the school.  As it zipped through the Auradonian countryside, she didn’t dare speak or try attention to herself, instead scrolling through her phone.  She was trying to absorb as much news as she possibly could, and the Internet traffic likely wouldn’t stand out, especially since all of Auradon was likely trying to find updates behind Aziz’s sudden abdication.  No one site seemed to have the answers, but then again, Katie couldn’t help but worry at the click on the line.  At the fact that Aziz had tried to lie.  He was so incompetent at it that for him to even try meant that something was deathly wrong.  And for him to throw away his future?  What did he know that she didn’t?  Was the state of Auradon even worse than she thought?  What was so bad that he’d potentially thrown away his family?

           Katie forced down the panic that threatened to rise over the next two hours.  Worrying over answers she didn’t yet have would only make her nauseous- and unable to watch her surroundings.  She’d find out soon enough, she hoped.  

           The train stopped at Auradon Prep, and continuing her ruse, Katie exited.  She didn’t sense anyone following her so far, but she had to be careful.  

           Just then, her cell rang, and she blanched as she recognized the voice.  

           “Jack?” Katie thought she couldn’t be more surprised than she’d been all evening.  Her erstwhile pseudo father figure never used a cell phone- he hated being tracked.

           “Hello, love,” Jack said, “Thought I’d check in on you. Heard the news, you see.”

           How? It can’t possibly have reached Tortuga yet. The pirates there generally shunned many aspects of modern technology.  Unless Jack wasn’t in Tortuga.  Carefully scanning her surroundings as she pretended to walk towards Auradon Prep, Katie commented:

           “What news?  About Mom?”

           “Oh yes.  Quite a surprise she gave us, didn’t she?  Coming to the capital for a visit?”

           Katie stopped immediately, reading between the lines. Jack was here?

           “She must have missed me,” Katie responded.  She’d just reached the outer edges of the property comprising Auradon Prep.  Not close enough to the manicured bushes that were well patrolled by guards, but near the wildflowers growing by the Tourney Field.

           “Always does, love.”  This time, the voice was behind her, and Katie slammed her phone shut, practically jumping out of her skin.

           “Jack!?  What are you doing here?  What’s going on?”  

           “We’ve been hearing rumblings in Tortuga for some time that things are amiss here on the beloved mainland,” Jack whispered, holding his fingers to his lips, “No one can confirm anything, but some people are talking of Cutler Beckett.”

           “I highly doubt Mal and Ben would hang people, let alone without a trial,” Katie riposted.

           “As I said love, can’t confirm anything.  But where there’s smoke there’s fire.  And the rumors also mention the freed villains are up to things too.  Us…we’re the in between.  Not heroes, not villains.  We can’t stay here while they fight each other.  I suspect your young man thought the same.”

           At that, Katie laughed, “Aziz is a hero.”

           Jack tilted his head, “Philosophically speaking, probably. In current Auradon terms?  Not necessarily.”

           “What do you know?” Katie demanded.

           “That you carrying that bloody phone puts you both at risk,” Jack scolded her as if she were a child.  With that, he snatched it from her hands, hurling it over his head into the bushes.  

           “Jack!” Katie hissed, “I wanted to get rid of it on my own terms!”

           “No time for that.  Now, come with me.”  Jack led her towards the river, where the tiniest of sailboats was moored.

           Katie eyed him with trepidation, “Please tell me we aren’t going to row that.  We’ll never get there in time.”

           Jack winked, “We will, love.  With some sea turtles, of course.”

*

           It took them most of the night to reach Tortuga, but when they arrived, they were welcomed immediately by the scouts posted around the island.  The sight alone made Katie on edge.  Tortuga was traditionally the place where pirates relaxed.  For them to be guarding it…things must have been worse than she knew.

           “Welcome home, Katie,” her Uncle Josh grinned toothily at her, “Always good to see you.  Though wish it were under better circumstances.”

           “What do you know?” Katie said, “Please tell me.”

           Joshamee Gibbs shrugged, “Nothing concrete. Just…the winds are stirring,” he turned his attention to Jack, “Elizabeth has summoned the Brethren.”

           Katie’s jaw dropped, “She’s what?” The Pirate King, Elizabeth Swann, had continued to run an operation as she waited for her husband’s stint as Davy Jones to end. When it had, the two engaged in a sort of passive piracy, letting others send them wealth from their journeys in exchange for free passage through her territory.  Elizabeth took to the seas at her whim, but it was strange for her to act in her capacity as Pirate King.  Let alone summon a council.

           “No time to talk about it, lass.  We’ve got to get going,” Josh and Jack ushered her towards Scarlett’s tavern, where there was a crowd outside.

           “Katie!”  Sao Feng’s daughter threw her arms around her, “We found something of yours.”  Katie peeked behind her to see a very annoyed Aziz tied up, gagged, and sitting on a barrel.

           “al-Hamed,” Katie sighed, “What did you say to them?” She pushed away Sao Feng’s daughter and went to work untying him.  Aziz spat out the gag and coughed, and Sao Feng’s daughter replied, “He asked where to find you.  What? We thought he was dangerous!”

           “Can no one ask a question around here?” Aziz queried.

           “Not an honest one,” Katie replied.  Despite herself, she hugged him once he was freed, “It’s good to see you.”

           “You too,” he murmured, and she fantasized he buried his face in her hair for the briefest of moments.  

           “Come in inside.  Wait, you don’t have your phone, right?”

           Aziz grinned, “No.  Knew I had to get rid of it.  I wished it away, wished myself here, then wished Genie wouldn’t tell anyone about it,” at this, he did show a twinge of regret, “I didn’t mean to upset him, but I didn’t know how else to get here.  Agrabah was swarming with guards and reporters.”

           They entered the bustling tavern, where many pirates continued to drink, though also looking more serious than she’d ever seen them. Katie’s Aunt Giselle ran to her, gave her a peck on the cheek, then smirked at Aziz.  

           “What a handsome face you’ve got.”

           “Giselle, he’s at least 20 years too young for you,” Scarlett the Redhead chided.  Giselle pouted and Aziz blushed, “Besides, I think he’s got more important things to say than compliment you on your hair.”

           “It’s flaxen!” Giselle insisted, but obligingly shooed the pair towards a dimly lit back room.

           When the door shut behind them, Katie faced Aziz, “Why did you do it?  What’s going on?”

           Aziz stared at her, “Ben told me that the decision to let the villains leave the Isle….it’s backfiring.  The villains have been here for two years now, and instead of assimilating into society, they’ve realized just how badly they were treated.  Some didn’t know they’d been raised from the dead to be sent to the Isle.  And the Isle conditions themselves, well, Mal says they weren’t great,” he swallowed, running a hand through his hair, “Many of the villains started to point out that the VKs were issuing propaganda, and then basically pitting children against each other to come to Auradon.  That it was wrong.  Evie Alley…the posters…choosing who got to come.  It was all wrong.  Even villains, it seems, have some sense of justice.   And they’re angry.  They’re demanding that King Adam be put on trial for war crimes.  And Ben and Mal themselves.  They  have some support, actually.  Meanwhile, Mal and Ben are trying to keep their throne, also trying to figure out how this has blown up in their faces.  The best solution anyone seems to have right now is re-establishing the Isle and sending the villains back.”

           “What?” Katie gasped.  

           “They’re saying the villains will never be rehabilitated.  That they’re a danger.  And they aren’t entirely wrong, but this decision will separate families forever. And if the Isle is still in the same conditions…Mal and Ben have become the very thing they swore they wouldn’t be. They’ve asked all the monarchs, and the heirs, for help,” Aziz reached for her hand, “They’ve also talked about clearly delineating what constitutes a hero and a villain.  Under the current terms, pirates fall under ‘villain.’”

“And I’m a pirate, under those terms?”

Aziz nodded, “Even though you’re not like Hook.  I couldn’t stand by and let them do that.  I tried to say there has to be another solution….but no one would listen.  And so I gave up the throne instead.”

           Katie felt as though the room were spinning, “But if they’re classing me as a pirate…and I’m literally a college student right now, what about my mother?  What about your grandfather?”

           Aziz reached out a hand to steady her, “My father gave him a chance to be respectable a few days ago.  He was gone the next morning, leaving a note that said, ‘If this is your idea of respectable, I’ve lost respect for you.’ We don’t know where he is.”

           “Aziz, I’m so sorry,” Katie whispered, “I’m so, so sorry.”

           “It’s not your fault,” he riposted, “I made the decision. Besides, you know how my grandfather feels about your mom.  He’ll show up here soon.”

           Katie tried to laugh, but instead, tears bubbled up in her eyes.  All she managed to say was, “And you showed up here.  Even though it’s going to cost you everything.”

           “Well, not everything,” Aziz said, pausing for just a second too long before amending, “I mean, at least I know I’m not supporting a corrupt regime, right?  I’ve still got my honor.”  Then he smiled at her, and her heart skipped a beat.

           It sounded like something her father would have said.

#solo para #aziz and katie #katie and aziz #ooc: is this canon #ooc: not sure #ooc: but wanted it preserved somewhere as the inspiration for this verse

[ltleflrt]

Hey Carrie! You talked a little the other day about writers' tendency to start a fic too early in the story, and how you see a lot of first scenes that could have been scrapped to improve the story. My question is if you have some tips to recognize while writing that first scene that you are starting too early in the story?

Hello friend!

That's a really good question, and I'll see if I can give an answer that makes sense. I am not a professional, and I'm not educated or trained in this stuff, it's just something that I recognize from years and years and years of voracious reading. And as with all writing advice, I encourage you to take what I'm going to say with a grain of salt and remember that no writing rule is a hard rule, only a guideline.

Also, my advice is going to be pertaining fanfiction, and specifically to AUs. Obviously a published book has an editor with a razor blade going through a manuscript for you, and the problems that bother me in fanfiction crop up in AUs more than Canonverse.

Oh, and every instance of "you" is general, not specific 😜

So I think the main problem that I see is that people are starting with an Info Dump. An Info Dump is not always a bad thing, sometimes it's completely necessary, but it is NOT where you want to start your story. If it absolutely has to be done, it's better to be somewhere in the middle or near the end. When it's something that your characters need to know.

That's an important bit: Do your characters need to know this?

And related to that: Does your audience need to know this for the story to make sense?

And very important follow up: If the answers to the above questions are yes, does the character/audience need to know this RIGHT NOW?

There's a lot of information about your story that YOU need to know. Heck, my notes files are full of sooooooo much stuff that I know about the characters and plot that never reaches the final product.

So when you're reading your first chapter (I say reading, not writing, because sometimes info dumping for your own benefit is good, and then you fix it before you share the story lol), ask yourself those two questions.

So for example:

In an AU where Dean is a tattoo artist, and it's his POV. The story starts with Dean driving to work, and when he gets there he's going to find out that the empty shop next door has been purchased and is going to be a yoga studio. He meets Castiel out front, up on a ladder trying to hang a hand painted sign, and some teens go running buy and knock into the ladder and Dean has to catch Castiel from falling. (Anyone who wants to adopt this idea is welcome to it btw, I would love to read this lol)

The mistake I often see in a first chapter like this is that as Dean is walking to work, there's a whole Info Dump about why he's a tattoo artist instead of a hunter. He'll be ambling along, thinking about his nice little business, and there's info about how his mom died in a fire, and his dad was a jerk, and Dean didn't go to college because he saved his money for Sammy's college fund, and Dean's only passion was art, and Bobby Singer introduced him to a tattoo shop owner who took Dean under his wing, etc.

Question 1, does your character need to know this?: Why is Dean reflecting on his past? Does Castiel need to know this information in order to build a romance with Dean?

Question 2, does your audience need to know this?: Why does this information matter? If Dean's only reflecting on this because you want to make sure your audience knows where the timeline changed and this became an AU, then you're starting too early in your story. Dean doesn't need to know this, and honestly in a lot of cases the reader doesn't need to know this. This is information that should have been left in your notes file.

Question 3, does the character/audience need to know this NOW?: If this information is pertinent to the plot, like maybe there's some trauma there that Castiel might need to know about to develop their relationship, then you don't want to put it HERE, you want to put it in a conversation with Castiel LATER.

If I was writing this AU, I would just start with Dean sipping his coffee, he's kinda tired because reasons, he looks up to see an unusual commotion, and has to drop his coffee and sprint forward to catch Cas. If he's reflecting on anything in this scene, it's going to be whatever made him tired, or how good/bad the coffee is this morning. Since Cas is a new business owner, they can talk about the origins of Dean's business on their first date, because it'll be a relevant response to Castiel talking about the origins of his yoga studio.

And just in general, if Dean's origin story includes a lot of canon elements, like mom dying in a fire, dad being a deadbeat, Sammy being the adorable overachieving Stanford student.... try to hide that info for as long as you can so that the audience is actually curious about it by the time the info might pop up. It's the wild divergences that are more interesting earlier on.

Okay, and then I want to talk about my giant pet peeve for a starting chapter. It's a specific kind of info dump, that often includes the stuff from above, but then goes a step further.

My nemesis, The Daily Grind.

I haven't asked the authors, so I could be wrong about this, but I feel like most of the time when this type of chapter is included in a story it is because the author wants to show the reader that the character's life is boring and meaningless before the plot's inciting incident. I can absolutely see why that might be considered an important detail about the character, but keep in mind if it's boring and meaningless to the character, it's boring and meaningless to your audience.

You know how I said earlier that writing tips should never be hard and fast rules? Well this is in regards to that Show Don't Tell rule, and it's an example of TOO MUCH showing lol

It is possible to do a daily grind in an interesting way, but only if you include a Shake Up right away. And you have to look at the 3 questions a little bit differently.

So for example:

Castiel POV, and he works in an office. His daily routine is to always get up at the same time every day, he goes for his run, he grooms himself, he has his breakfast, he goes to work and talks to Kelly about how Jack's doing in kindergarten for a few minutes before going into his office. Adler comes in to be a prick, Castiel hates him for it, and then he does his reports, has lunch hiding in a corner of the lunch room so that his co-workers will leave him alone, he does more reporting, leaves an hour after his shift technically ends, goes home to a lonely apartment that maybe includes a pet who is the only being that shows him affection, has an unsatisfying dinner of leftover takeout while watching a mindless reality tv show, then he goes to bed.

Ugh.

BORING.

Which, yeah I get it, the point is that his life is boring. But now the story is too, and I've clicked the back button before I can see how exciting it's capable of getting.

Question 1, does your character need to know this?: No. He knows. Poor thing definitely already knows.

Question 2, does your audience need to know this?: Yes, but...

Question 3, does the character/audience need to know this NOW?: Yes, but new question for ya:

Optional Question 4, why does this need to be separate from your plot's inciting incident? The answer to this 4th question is usually that it doesn't.

Chapter 2 of this type of beginning usually shows the shake up of Castiel's day. My advice is to start with the shakeup, and sprinkle in the details of what you would have put into chapter 1 to show the contrast. It's far more interesting to learn how boring Castiel's day is by starting with the shake up.

So, same scenario:

Castiel's alarm doesn't go off for some reason, OH NO HIS ROUTINE IS SHAKEN UP! You're explaining his routine while also stressing him the fuck out because he has to rush, or skip something that he normally needs to do. Action! Interesting! He gets to work late, and has to miss his conversation with Kelly about Jack because she's telling him that Adler's already in his office being a prick because Castiel isn't there waiting for him like he always is. Oh shit, he's pissing off his asshole boss! Conflict! He's so flustered by the shakeups that he misses something on his report, and he gets a call from that new marketing guy Dean Winchester who asks if they can have a meeting about it when Castiel normally takes his lunch. BAM! MEET CUTE OPPORTUNITY! While Castiel is getting all flustered by how pretty Dean is while they talk about TPS reports, he can reflect on how this is both better and worse than hiding from his co-workers in the corner of the lunch room. The rest of the day after that meeting he's thinking about how weird this day is, he still goes home an hour late, he talks to his pet about his weird day when he gets home, and maybe he still eats leftover takeout, but he's not paying attention to the reality tv show because holy shit he wants to count Dean's freckles.

In this example, you're Telling the audience about Castiel's normal routine instead of Showing them. But since it's during a plot heavy chapter, it works!

Lemme see if I can TL:DR this...

As you're reading, ask yourself who needs to know this information, why do they need to know this information, and why is it important for this information to be included early instead of later?

If the answer to any of those questions boils down to "this is backstory" instead of "this kicks off the plot", then you've started too early.

I hope this helps? I'm always nervous about giving writing advice because so much of the time I have no idea what I'm doing, and I'm just feeling around in the dark. And I definitely do not ever want to hurt an author's feelings, because this hobby is so fucking hard, and we're all fragile. Even authors who welcome con-crit with open arms will have a weak point that they're unaware of that might get poked wrong and cause a crack, ya know?

I hope anyone who gets this far who might see their own works reflected in my examples understands that I have a lot of respect for their ability to put their work out into the world, and I want them to keep doing it. We're here to have fun, okay? Okay. I love y'all 💜

#ltleramblings #writer's angst #also i think some of these problems can be solved with a prologue #but that's something i'm literally exploring in my current WIP #so I have no idea if I'm doing it right #and i might be breaking all of my own rules with it lol

[just-another-blog-of-fluff]

Can't Keep a Secret

Word count: 4300

Warnings: tickling, fluff, reader with an inability to keep secrets, reader with a crush on a certain god of mischief

I'm so excited for 100 followers!! I didn't expect so many people to actually be interested in my writing when I started posting 🥰

This one is based on @atlas-of-the-universe's request here for a fic where Loki tickles the reader to get information of some kind 😉 I hope this is what you were looking for!

This one also has a little more crushing/romantic fluff than some of my other fics at the end, so if you're not into that just skip that part. As always, completely SFW!

* * *

No one ever seemed to do anything nice for Loki. So, when Thor approached you to ask if you’d help him and the others plan a surprise birthday party for his brother, you wholeheartedly agreed to assist. As the Avengers’ best party planner, you jumped at the chance to start brainstorming ideas to make this party the best Loki had ever experienced – including on Asgard. And, if it meant he’d pay a little extra attention to you, well… that was an added bonus.

The only problem was – you were terrible at keeping secrets.

It wasn’t as if you went around spilling the details when someone asked you not to tell the others about something. You knew enough not to just blurt out the fact that you were planning a party. Unfortunately, though, you had a tendency to let your feelings show in your facial expressions. Trying to keep secrets made you anxious, knowing you’d been the one to accidentally say just a little bit too much in the past and ruined other surprises.

The fact that you were the worst secret keeper was no… secret, for lack of a better word. Your teammates frequently exploited this fact when they wanted to know what you were hiding from them. Tony, especially, loved to talk circles around you until he could get you to trip up and give some detail away. On the other hand, they also tried not to let you in on too many details when they were planning a surprise for one of the other team members.

This time, you were determined not to give anything away. You were thrilled that the team was finally going to do something special for Loki, and you were NOT going to ruin it by spilling the beans to the trickster. Thor was probably one of the more trusting members of the Avengers, and he assured you when he asked you to help with the party that he had faith you wouldn’t screw up (quite literally in those words).

You started researching online to get some ideas. This party had to live up to the standards of an Asgardian prince, so you couldn’t just order a few pizzas and beer and call it a party. Plus, Tony had offered to pay for the whole thing (you suspected he felt guilty for having accidentally blasted Loki through a wall in the training room with his new Ironman suit the week prior) so your funds were basically limitless.

Inevitably, though, you were bound to run into situations where you had to spend time with the raven-haired god without allowing yourself to let any details slip.

The moment Loki first started to suspect you were hiding something was when he walked in on a conversation you were having with Thor in the kitchen. You had been asking him about the Asgardian mead his brother loved so much and wanted to know if he could manage to get some here on Midgard for the party.

“What is it about the Asgardian mead that you like so much better than standard alcohol?” you inquired curiously.

“Ha! That is a very funny question, Lady Y/N,” Thor laughed heartily. “As if any Midgardian liquor could so much as hold a candle to the spirits we drink on Asgard.”

“Hey! I enjoy my tequila! Margaritas are arguably a delicious alcoholic beverage,” you bantered.

“You truly believe this ‘margarita’ as you call it could compare to the smooth, sophisticated taste of an Asgardian mead?” Thor countered.

“I must agree with my brother on this one – I have seen this ‘margarita’ drink you speak of, and it is highly unlikely to be superior to Asgardian spirits.”

You gasped involuntarily when you heard Loki’s voice in the doorway, spinning around to face him with a look of bewilderment on your face. He cocked his head to the side, raising an eyebrow as he scrutinized your expression.

“Oh, hey Loki! Didn’t see you there,” you greeted, trying to lean casually against the counter you were standing beside.

“Yes… it appears you didn’t. You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.” Loki folded his arms across his chest, eyeing you intently. “What was it that brought you to the subject of Asgardian liquor?”

“Oh, that? Well…”

“I was just informing Lady Y/N that I have been feeling a bit nostalgic thinking about the celebrations we had on Asgard, when we would drink heartily with Lady Sif and the Warriors Three,” Thor cut in, quickly interrupting you mid-sentence. “Brother, you must recall the time you had a bit too much while drinking with us and…”

“I believe that’s quite enough nostalgia for one evening, dear brother,” Loki cut in, appearing almost frantic as he glanced quickly at you before turning back to glare at the elder Asgardian. “Stark asked me to inform you he requires your assistance in the laboratory. You’ll need to continue this conversation another time.”

“Ah, yes, alright then. Another time,” Thor agreed, winking at you before he exited the kitchen. Loki followed close behind, but not before giving you one last calculating glance before he crossed through the doorway and out of sight. You let out a breath of relief, hoping he hadn’t thought much of the conversation.

You noticed, though, that Loki started conveniently popping up around you more often after that incident. Maybe he didn’t want Thor to have the opportunity to tell you about whatever embarrassing story had occurred when they were younger, you thought. Regardless, it meant that you had to be extremely cautious about doing any planning for the party in any of the common areas.

The second time you nearly let something slip was during a hushed conversation in the training room with Peter after one of your sparring matches. He had pulled you aside after training to ask your opinion about whether he should ask his friend MJ to attend the party with him. He’d had a crush on the girl for quite some time, and now that she knew his secret identity he thought it might be time to introduce her to his Avengers family.

“I’m nervous she might not want to come, but I think it would be a great chance for her to meet everyone when the focus would be on someone else,” he explained. You hiked your backpack up onto your shoulder with your training gear and made your way toward the door to the training room with Peter by your side.

“Why wouldn’t she want to come? From what you’ve told me, she seems to be more of a social butterfly than you are, even,” you asked.

“Yeah… you’re right, I’m probably overthinking this, aren’t I?” he chuckled. “I just don’t want to screw things up!”

“What are you screwing up this time, spiderling?”

You stopped short as you heard Loki’s voice from behind you, making your heart leap into your throat. You turned around, trying not to look startled.

“Oh, Peter wants his friend MJ to attend… a training session with us!” you fibbed, trying to think quickly. “You know, so he can show her his Spider-Man moves!”

“Yeah! That’s right,” Peter agreed, nodding vigorously. “I’m going to go call her right now, thanks Y/N!” Peter scurried off down the hallway, leaving you standing with a somewhat skeptical looking god of mischief.

“Why was Peter asking you about inviting a friend to his training? Would he not have asked Stark?” Loki inquired. You shrugged in a non-committal way.

“Who knows? Anyway, uh, it was nice talking to you, but I’ve got to get going… big assignment to finish up tonight, can’t really stop and chat. See you later!” you blurted, not waiting for a response as you hurried toward your room. Phew, that was close, you thought to yourself, hoping he hadn’t been standing behind you for too long.

Later that week, you found yourself alone in the common room while watching television. You pulled out your laptop during one of the commercials and started searching the internet for caterers, hoping to find something fancy enough to appeal to an Asgardian god. You had thought that everyone else was out for the day, so you weren’t overly concerned about anyone seeing what you were doing.

“What mindless reality television show are you watching today?” The smooth, baritone voice caused you to jerk your head up from your laptop screen and instinctively slam it shut. He hadn’t even been standing behind you to see what you were searching – it was purely on reflex that you closed the computer. Loki raised his eyebrows at you. “I see you aren’t really watching anything, are you? What is it you were viewing on your computer?”

“Nothing! I mean, nothing exciting, really. Just some old photos that I was trying to sort through,” you stammered, standing up with the laptop clutched to your chest. “You can have the TV if you want, though. I have to go… work on that assignment some more. I was just taking a break. It’s almost done!” Loki opened his mouth as if to say something, but you didn’t wait around to let him ask any more questions that might make you give away something you shouldn’t. You spent the rest of the evening in your room, avoiding the trickster at all costs.

The next morning, after getting ready for the day, you grabbed some breakfast before heading back to your room to continue to do some additional party planning research where Loki wouldn’t walk in on you unexpectedly. You shoved the last bite of one of Thor’s pop-tarts that you’d stolen into your mouth as you approached your door, opening it and walking toward your desk where your laptop sat. You always left the door slightly ajar when you were in your room, and so you were quite surprised when you heard the door thump shut behind you, the lock clicking into place.

“You’ve been hiding something from me.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, your heart pounding in your chest. You turned around slowly, staring wide-eyed at the god of mischief now standing in your bedroom between you and your only exit. His hands were clasped behind his back, his blue-green eyes gleaming ominously as he stared you down.

“Oh, hey Loki! What brings you to my room?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

“Let’s end this little charade, hmm?” He took a few slow paces forward into the room, closing the distance between the two of you. “It’s become clear to me over the last week that you have knowledge of some information that you do not want me to become aware of. I’d like you to tell me what it is.” His tone was calm; low, but dangerous. You swallowed hard.

“Loki, I-I’m not sure what you mean. I don’t have any secrets.” You took a step back from the advancing Asgardian, your back meeting the cold, hard wood of your desk behind you.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way. The choice is up to you,” he threatened, stepping even closer so he was only a foot away from where you stood trapped against your desk. “Tell me what it is you’re hiding, or I will… coerce you into talking.”

“Coerce me? Heh, what’s that supposed to mean?” you asked nervously, your hands gripping the desk behind you.

“I have my ways. I am the god of mischief, after all.” Loki stood in front of you unmoving, a barrier holding you hostage against your desk.

“Even if I did have something to hide, you wouldn’t hurt me. Your brother would kill you,” you warned.

“I never suggested I would hurt you, darling. I would never do such a thing.” He took the slightest step closer. “You seem tense. Am I making you nervous?”

“Very.”

“Good.” A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. “Have you decided, then? Will we be doing this the easy way or the hard way?”

“I told you, I have nothing to hide,” you insisted.

“Very well then. We’ll do this the hard way.” Quickly, you darted around Loki toward the door, trying to make your escape. He was faster, though, catching you with an arm around your waist and dragging you back so your back was against his chest. “Tell me, darling…” he growled in your ear, making you shiver, “… are you… ticklish?”

“Wha-“ you opened your mouth to protest but stopped speaking as you felt gentle scratching on your side. You shook your head quickly, suppressing the giggles that were threatening to rise out of your throat. If you stood still long enough, maybe he would give up.

“Do you think you’re fooling me by not allowing yourself to laugh? I felt you tense up immediately the moment I touched you.” He tightened his grip, wrapping both arms around your waist and digging his fingers into your sides. You snorted at the sudden sensation, doubling over to try to fight your way out of his grasp. “As I suspected. You are extraordinarily ticklish.”

“S-shut up, Loki!” you demanded, your muscles relaxing as his fingers stilled against your sides. He released you, allowing you to turn and face him but still standing in between you and the door.

“Now then – are you going to tell me what it is you’re hiding? Or do I need to tickle you until you are begging for mercy?”

You felt your face flush with heat. You’d been tickled before, certainly, but only for a few seconds at a time, and never as a means to pry information from you. Truthfully, though, you were enjoying this playful side of Loki. You were also determined not to tell him about the party – it would be so much more fun if it were a surprise, and he deserved to have fun. You braced yourself, folding your arms defiantly across your chest.

“There’s nothing to tell.”

Before you could react, Loki had tackled you, and you found yourself flat on the floor with your wrists pinned over your head. Your heart hammered against your ribcage as the dark-haired Asgardian loomed over you, his smirk growing wider.

“I see you’ve made your choice, then. But I should warn you – I don’t do mercy.” The fingertips of his free hand connected with your belly, lightly tracing the soft skin through your shirt. You turned your head so you wouldn’t have to look at him, his knowing stare making it more difficult to prevent yourself from laughing. Slowly, he applied more pressure until he was clawing at your belly with all five fingers, varying between the center and sides and analyzing your expression to evaluate your response.

“I-I’m telling y-you, t-there’s nothing to t-tell,” you insisted, jolting a little each time his fingers found a particularly sensitive spot.

“Unfortunately, I don’t believe you.” He shifted his attack to your side, his fingers spidering gradually up your ribcage. Your nerves were alight with ticklish shocks, helpless giggles now bubbling out of your chest.

“W-whyhyhy don’t you believe mehehe?” you asked, your tone starting to sound more desperate.

“You’re not exactly subtle. It’s rather obvious when you’re trying to keep a secret.” Loki was now scratching in between your upper ribs, and your giggles were evolving into desperate laughter. “I see this is becoming more challenging for you. I wonder – should I try to identify all of your weak spots? Surely one of them will get you talking.”

“NOHOHO LOKI!” you pleaded, thrashing to try to free your wrists from his grasp.

“You’ll need to provide me some information, then. What was it you were really discussing with my brother the other night?”

“HE TOHOHOLD YOU!!” You shrieked as Loki’s fingers found purchase under one of your arms, your feet pounding against the floor in desperation.

“Honestly, Y/N, I didn’t believe a word either of you said.” His fingertips grazed the underside of your upper arm, tracing from your elbow down to your underarm and back up again. You hadn’t realized how ticklish the soft skin of your arm could be, but his maddeningly light touch had you writhing to try to evade his fingers.

“STAHAHAP THAT!” you begged, yanking at your restrained wrists to try to lower your arms. Even before you were in this weakened state, the god of mischief was stronger than you.

“Then talk.”

“NEVER!”

“Aha!” he exclaimed suddenly, lifting his fingers away from your arm. You sucked in air desperately, letting out the residual giggles as he allowed you a moment to recover. “You ARE hiding something! You’ve given yourself away.”

“I… but… no I didn’t!” you pouted. He chuckled, a genuine grin spreading across his face at your adorable, disappointed frown.

“It’s too late now. You may as well tell me your secret.”

“I won’t tell! I’ll never tell!” you barked, a sudden surge of bravery rushing through you.

“I’m afraid I must continue, then,” he stated, feigning pity. “Why don’t you tell me where else you are ticklish instead?”

“What? No! I won’t tell you that either!”

“Fine. It’s much more amusing for me to locate your weak spots myself anyway.” Loki released your wrists and in the same motion reached behind him to squeeze above your knees with both hands. You yelped at the unexpected touch, trying with difficulty to sit up now that your arms were free. You reached toward Loki’s sides to try to retaliate but he was too perceptive, grabbing a wrist in each hand using his cat-like reflexes. “You don’t want to do that, darling,” he warned.

“Oh, but I think I do,” you argued, trying your hardest to break free of his grip. He wrestled with you for a moment, successfully forcing you onto your stomach so you could no longer sit up and try to counterattack.

“Now then – where were we?” he huffed as he sat himself down on the back of your legs, pinning you in place. You lifted your upper body up onto your elbows and turned to look at him, keeping a close eye on his hands. “Ah, that’s right. You were about to tell me what you were discussing with the spiderling the other day.”

“No I was-“ your retort died in your mouth as Loki’s fingertips touched down on the backs of your knees. “L-Loki, hold on, don’t you even think about it.”

“Why? Too sensitive?” he teased, tracing one finger along the tendon in the back of your knee. You let out a squeal, only egging him on as he began to flutter his fingers against the thin skin there.

“LOKI I WILL KIHIHILL YOHOHOU!”

“You hardly sound threatening when you’re giggling like a child,” he taunted, tracing along the skin on the inner sides of your knees. You reached back desperately with one hand while holding yourself up with the other elbow, trying to grab hold of his tickling fingers. He snickered at your feeble attempts, reaching up quickly to slide his fingers under your arm so your elbow would buckle beneath your torso before returning his attention to your knees. “This could all stop if you’d just tell me what your secret is.”

At this point, you’d come to the embarrassing realization that you were actually having fun, despite your abdominal muscles aching from laughing so hard. You were also still determined to keep the party a secret, if not for you then for Loki’s own good. You picked yourself back up onto your elbows so you could turn and look back at him defiantly.

“No!” you declared.

“No? I see I must not be trying hard enough, then. Let’s try somewhere else, shall we?” Loki shifted his weight so he could pin your legs down with his shin, his gaze turning down toward your socked feet.

“Don’t… you… dare!” you warned, noticing where his line of sight was directed. He placed his fingertips teasingly against the soles of your feet, maintaining eye contact with you, eyes glowing with mischief.

“I’ll give you one final chance. Spill,” he ordered. You merely smirked back at him.

“Make me.”

Without another word, Loki sprang back into action, his torturous fingertips skimming along the soles of your feet. Frantic giggles spilled from your lips as you tried jerking your feet away from his touch without success.

“I’d wager you’re regretting what you said now, aren’t you?” he goaded, scratching under your toes with one finger on each foot. Your giggles pitched up as you curled your toes to prevent him from reaching the sensitive skin. “Are you prepared to talk now?”

“NEHEHEVER!!” you screeched, still determined to win. Eventually he’d get tired of this and give up, right?

“Then I’m afraid you leave me no choice.” You practically screamed in ticklish agony as his fingers once again connected with your ribs, darting rapidly up and down your sides and under your arms, scribbling into the small of your back, fluttering against the sides of your neck and behind your ears, never staying in one place long enough to grow accustomed to the sensation. Your laughter fell silent as you tapped your hand hard on the floor, signaling you were giving up. Seeing your signal, Loki’s fingers stilled against you, still pressed gently into your sides as a warning that he could start right back up again at any moment. “Talk.”

“I will… alright… just… just give me a sec,” you huffed, your chest heaving with exertion. Your mind was racing, trying to come up with a plausible lie that would satisfy the god of lies. Your heart sank as you realized you couldn’t possibly come up with something in the next ten seconds that would fool him. It had to be the truth. “I’ll tell you, but you have to swear to me you won’t tell your brother that I told you.”

“That depends on what it is you’re about to tell me,” Loki bantered.

“No, I’m serious!” Loki shifted so his weight was no longer pressed on your legs, and you turned over into a seated position on the floor. “Promise me you won’t tell.”

“Fine. I promise. Now tell me.” You took a deep breath.

“We’re planning a party. For you. It was supposed to be a surprise.”

Loki was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. His blue-green eyes searched yours as if trying to find any hint of a lie in your face. His face softened a bit as he began to realize you were actually telling the truth.

“What for?” he asked, his tone flat.

“For your birthday.”

“We don’t celebrate birthdays on Asgard, we have far too many of them to be excited for them.”

“Ugh, Loki, don’t you get it? Thor wanted to do something nice for you! I wanted to do something nice for you!” You held his gaze, trying to prove to him you still weren’t lying.

“You wanted to do something for me?” His voice was low, but there was something different about his tone; something you hadn’t heard before. Hope? Excitement? You averted your gaze down to the floor, poking at the fibers in the carpet with your finger.

“Yeah, I did. You deserve something nice. You’ve come a long way since New York. And you’re… a good friend.” You felt heat rush to your face. You’d nearly revealed another secret, one you had no intention of telling him today. Or ever. Unfortunately, Loki was perceptive.

“That sounded like another lie, Y/N,” he stated ominously. You risked a glance up at him, seeing a smirk slowly spreading across his face.

“What?! No, it’s not!” you argued, the warmth in your face spreading to your ears.

“Haven’t you learned not to lie to me by now?” Loki suddenly grabbed hold of your waist, dragging you closer to him. “Or do I need to repeat the lesson?” His fingers latched onto your ribcage, squeezing and kneading with maddening precision. Still exhausted from the previous attack, you immediately caved.

“ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT! I like you, ok??” Loki stopped tickling you, not yet releasing you from his grasp. You covered your flushed face with your hands. “Happy now?”

Loki pried your hands gently away from your face, tilting your chin up with his finger. His eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them before as he gazed at you, a small smile on his face. With a surge of confidence, you closed the gap between your faces, pressing your lips to his. He kissed you back, gently but passionately all at once. When he finally pulled away, he grinned at you.

“Yes, I am happy,” he said simply. You smiled shyly back at him.

“Good.” You hardened your expression a bit, although admittedly it was hard to wipe the smile off your face. “You still have to act surprised. I can’t have people thinking I can’t keep a secret.” Loki laughed at that, his voice rumbling in his chest.

“But you can’t, darling.” He gave you one last poke in the side, eliciting a whine from you. “I’ll do my best to act surprised. I am the god of lies, after all. I should be able to put on a convincing display.”

“Good.” You allowed him to help you to your feet before shooing him out the door. “Now, get out of my room. I still have planning to do.”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckled, stopping in the doorway to look at you. “I’ll go, but only if you’ll have dinner with me tonight.”

“Only if you don’t tickle me,” you countered.

“Sorry, love, but I can’t make any promises,” he replied, winking. You sighed, smiling at him.

“I guess I’ll take my chances then.”

#loki tickle #ticklish!reader #tickle fluff #tickle fic #marvel tickle

[samwilsonshandsandass]

Don’t decline too many times

Pairing: soft!dark!Steve Rogers x reader

Summary: The local gang leader is always nice to you. But is there an ulterior motive behind it all for his niceness?

Warnings: Alcohol consumption (voluntarily), asks about pregnancy, abduction

Word count: about 3000

A/N: This is my entry for @stargazingfangirl18​ Siri’s 5K Soft Dark Challenge. A big congrats on your milestone and thank you for hosting this challenge, I enjoyed writing for it! I chose general prompt number 5 (“The leader of the local gang doesn’t like it when you tell them no.”) for this. The dividers are made by the awesome @firefly-graphics​

You sat at the bar, a small bowl with olives and peanuts in front of you. You had asked for a caipirinha and shortly after if the bartender, a female redhead, could get you some snacks. She said she could, but she also cautiously probed if you were pregnant. No, you weren’t.

“Well then, I can offer you olives and peanuts.”

You nodded, and now the quite unusual combination of a fruity and sweet drink and olives and peanuts found a home in you. You had your elbows propped up on the bar, back straight and eyes on the bar top. The bowls with the snacks were gone quicker than the drink and the bartender kept both coming. Eating way quicker than drinking helped with that, apparently.

You didn’t know what number drink you were on when you were approached the first time that evening. Although night would be a better term.

“Miss? I- uh- I’d wanted to ask-“ The guy who now sat on the stool next to you stumbled over his words, but not because of alcohol in his system. He didn’t slur, he talked normally.

You saw a tattooed hand clasp the guys’ shoulder. “I don’t think you’re in the right place, buddy. Leave the lady alone.”

“Why would I-“ The guy turned to look at whoever had his hand on his shoulder. “Oh! I’m so sorry, Mr.-“

“Yeah, yeah, I imagine you are. But you’ll be even more sorry if you don’t move now” The other growled and the guy got up so quickly, he almost face planted away from the bar.

“Uhm, thank you? You know, you didn’t have to, he wasn’t bothering me. I could’ve dealt with him” You said to the brown-haired man.

“I know. But this isn’t what this is about.”

“Then what is ‘this’ about?” You were a little irritated.

“You’ll see. Enjoy your night, miss” He gave a small salute and went back into the crowd. You tried looking where he went but quickly lost him, although the bar wasn’t as packed as it could be.

Steve looked over the bar patrons from the mezzanine level of the bar, that housed his private booth that could be seen, and was supposed to be seen, from below but no one ever found the staircase until they were explicitly shown where it was.

His night was going nice, no big problems in the last days, the bar was filled and his new favorite person had just walked in. Alone. She made a beeline for the bar and after a short conversation, got what she wanted from Natasha. She didn’t move much throughout the night and he was happy to just watch her.

Steve sipped on his own drink. He wondered what she drank. He’d have to ask Natasha for that. He took another sip and swallowed harshly. Someone sat next to what would be his. Normally, he’d be lenient with that, especially if the bar was packed almost too full but for one thing, it wasn’t. Secondly, you didn’t seem to want any company tonight. Just to be left alone and drink.

“Buck?” Steve looked up.

“On it.”

A few days later, you were out grocery shopping after work. It had been a long day, full of demands you couldn’t meet or weren’t even supposed to fulfill because they didn’t fall into your department. And right as you could finally leave for the day, your boyfriend Chad had called to let you know he came home to an empty fridge and if you couldn’t pick up some fresh vegetables. But only from that one organic store. And only the freshest produce of the freshest.

How were you supposed to get literal farm-to-table produce when the delivery truck for that particular store only came twice a week and only ever in the morning? You asked and just got an exasperated sigh from Chad. So here you were, paying for the groceries and leaving the store.

You stepped out of the store and almost collided with someone. The person just kept on walking, apparently not even noticing how you wobbled and the bags in your hands almost slipped out of your grasp. Just as you thought everything would tumble and you’d have wasted that money, you felt hands on your elbows, steadying you.

“I got you, don’t worry.”

You didn’t recognize the voice. You turned around and did a double take. You looked up at Steve Rogers, the leader of the city’s gang, just known as “The Commando”.

“Th- thank you. It wouldn’t have been good if I had spilled all this.”

“What would you have spilled?”

“Fresh vegetables for tonight’s dinner.”

“All that just for you?” Steve seemed genuinely curious and confused.

“Oh no. For me and my boyfriend, Chad.”

Steve took the bags from your hands without asking. “Mind if I walk you home? It’s late and these bags look really heavy and that’s not even touching your normal bag.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not, I’m offering.”

“Thank you, but it’s not far, it really isn’t necessary” You declined.

“Alright, well have a nice evening, miss” Steve raised his fingertips to his non-existent hat.

“You too, thanks.”

Several weeks later, you laid on the couch with Chad with some mindless trash tv show playing in the background. He had his arm around you. You looked at him. He didn’t look back at you, but maybe he was just captivated by watching something that didn’t require much thinking after a long work day. Well, you wanted to do something that also didn’t require much thinking. You started kissing up and down his neck until he turned his head.

“What are you doing Y/N?”

“What does it look like?” You grinned.

“I’m too tired right now. Tomorrow?” Chad groaned.

You removed yourself from him and sat up again. “You’ve said that for weeks now! I also have needs and I don’t want to use my vibrator all the time. I want you.”

“Well, I can’t change how tired I am!” He raised his voice, despite or because of his tiredness, you didn’t know.

Shortly after, you went to bed. Unsatisfied and feeling like you had been shunned.

Just a few days later, you were frantically searching for a clean and decent shirt you could wear to work. You really couldn’t show up to work in a graphic tee shirt.

“Chad, where are my clean shirts?” You yelled through the appartement.

“In your wardrobe?! Like always?” He yelled back.

“No, they aren’t! Didn’t you do the laundry?”

“No, why would I?”

“Because it was your turn!”

“Well, I forgot. I’m sorry, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, always sorry” You grumbled so he couldn’t hear and pulled a unicolor long sleeve shirt from the wardrobe. That would have to do.

It was a Saturday and you were in the mall, trying on clothes, maybe you’d buy some shoes. You wanted to treat yourself. Chad was gone for the weekend and you’d had a stressful week at work. You had found so many things you were packed with two or three bags in each hand plus your handbag over your shoulder. This had been an extensive haul and you couldn’t be more happy about your new treasures.

You carried several bags to the entrance to then get on home when you saw the revolving door wasn’t working. You groaned. Awesome. When you entered the mall, they had still worked and of course, today had to be the time you also bought something voluminous that you couldn’t just transfer from one hand to the other to open the door that was still working. While you thought about setting half the bags down and just walking twice or holding the door open with your foot, someone from behind you reached around you and opened it for you.

“Oh. Thank you!” You turned around and saw a familiar face. Steve Rogers.

“You’re welcome.”

He tipped his imaginary hat when you and all your bags were through the door. You turned and could see him still hold open the door with an older lady thanking the “Young man” and walking off.

“Do you want me to walk you to your car?” He offered.

“No, thanks I got it from here.”

Steve tipped his “hat” again and said his goodbye when you went in the direction of the parking lot.

You had reservations at a nice Mexican restaurant with Chad for this Friday evening. There was nothing to celebrate, you had just agreed to go out again, because you could. You were excited for it, an evening with good food, talking, no needing to take care of anything except getting home and a nice evening and then a lazy weekend until the work week started again. Now it was Thursday.

“Chad? Friday is still happening?” You sat at the breakfast table and Chad poured himself a coffee.

“Yeah. Work shouldn’t keep me longer than expected.”

“Alright, we’ll just meet at the restaurant, then.”

Friday came, work went down without any incident and you went straight to the restaurant. Granted, you were a little early, but you’d rather be early than late, which would have been the case if you had gone home beforehand.

“Excuse me? I have a reservation for Y/L/N, for two people. I know I’m a little early, but I thought maybe…” You trailed off.

“My colleague will show you to your table, you can already take a seat and wait for your company. I’ll send them over once they arrive” The receptionist said.

“Thank you” You smiled and followed her colleague.

At the table, you texted your boyfriend. Just a simple “I’m here a little early.” After the waiter brought a water, your phone still didn’t ping with a text. Twenty minutes later, you sent a second text. “Hey, you coming? Our reservation is for this time.” Now would’ve been the time your table was reserved for. No answer. 15 minutes and another text later, there still was no answer.

“Miss, do you want to order an appetizer or wait for your company?”

“I’ll wait for him, if that’s okay.”

“Yes, of course.”

Thirty minutes, another text and another visit from your waiter later, there still was no sign of Chad. Just as you felt tears of rage pricking your eyes, your waiter set a dish of panna cotta with fruits on the side in front of you.

“On the house.”

You smiled gratefully. At least panna cotta would soothe some of the rage you felt.

At home, there was no sign of Chad. You went to bed alone, feeling a storm of different emotions ranging from anger to sadness.

You woke to clanging in the hallway. It sounded like a person stumbling, trying to get back up and failing. That could only be Chad. Especially at this hour. You remembered once, pretty early on in your relationship how he had stumbled in just like this after a night out with his boys when you didn’t want to come with. You had helped him sober up and then you both had spent a nice day in with Chad nursing his hangover.

But this was different. This was your boyfriend, first blatantly ignoring or forgetting your date night (you didn’t know which would be worse), no matter if it went along with a special date or not, and now he didn’t even hide what he had been doing instead.

“Hey babe? Can you- can you help me?” He slurred.

And in that moment, you snapped. Still sitting in bed. You couldn’t do this anymore.

In the hallway, you saw Chad entangled in your and his winter coat. However he managed that.

“No. No, I will not do that” You crossed your arms and looked down at him. “I’m done. This is the last straw.”

“What happened babe?” The confusion was evident on Chad’s face but you couldn’t see if it was from the hangover or just general confusion. And either way, you didn’t care.

“Several things. Over quite some time. But this, this takes the cake. We had a date. We wanted to meet after work at this restaurant we’ve talked about. And you didn’t show up! You didn’t answer any of my texts! It got so bad, the staff there gave me a free dessert! It was humiliating! And don’t you dare tell me you lost your phone; you’re glued to it!” You shook from your anger.

“But you got free dessert!”

How could anyone miss the point so badly? You wondered.

“Go. Go and only come back to get your stuff. Otherwise, just leave me alone.”

You threw on clothes quickly, grabbed your keys, bag and purse and left. Down on the street, you just started to wander around aimlessly. You ducked into a bakery for a to-go breakfast and coffee, you went to the park, to a hole in the wall pizza joint for lunch, just meandering through the city.

Now it was evening. You looked up to actually see where you were and were surprised to see you had walked all the way from the park you had been in during the afternoon to the bar of the city’s main gang.

You remembered all kinds of rumors and stories about the gang, sometimes just about one or two members, even if the story didn’t tie directly in with the gang. But no matter the stories or rumors, they all boiled down to “They’re dangerous, stay away from them and their localities!”.

But the first time you had been in the bar, everything was nice, it had seemed cozy and like you were welcomed even if no one knew you. Hell, the bar lady had asked you if you were pregnant, like she wanted to protect you! And Steve, the actual leader of the gang, had been nothing but nice to you. Offering to help you and still not inserting himself forcefully into situations when you said no.

You entered and looked around. For a bar, it was pretty early and you only saw a few patrons. You went to take a seat at the bar again and greeted the red head with a smile. She smiled back and continued cleaning the glasses. A while later, she got to you.

“Caipirinha, olives and peanuts again? Still not pregnant?”

“Yes and no. And how do you remember what I ordered? That was weeks ago!”

“I’m a barkeeper. Simple as that” She smiled.

“Uh, could you keep them coming? At least for a while?”

“Something happened?”

“I broke up with my boyfriend today. Then wandered around and now I’m here” You shrugged.

“Alright. But I reserve the right to cut you off when I think you had enough.”

“Okay. But you won’t cut off the olives and peanuts?”

She laughed, throwing her head back. “Yes, I’ll keep giving you food.”

You smiled for the first time today. “Deal.”

The rest of the evening went by in a more or less haze of snacks, alcohol and the mix of hurt at your ended relationship but also the rage when you thought of what kind of behaviors of Chad made you end it all.

The barkeeper didn’t cut you off, which probably was related to you basically inhaling olives and peanuts. Hours later, you paid, slipped the redhead a big tip and a big smile and made to get home.

Almost right at the exit, you were stopped when you felt a hand on your elbow. You turned your head to tell whoever touched you off, but slight confusion furrowed your brows. Wasn’t that the guy from when you had been here weeks ago who kept that other guy from (probably) asking you out?

“Can I help you?” You asked.

“Actually, you can. Indirectly at least.”

“What?”

“I’m here to ask you if you’d like to come with me to up there” He nodded his head to the mezzanine level. “to meet someone.” He emphasized the ‘someone’ in a way that made it clear that ‘someone’ was special. In one way or another.

“Why would I?”

“To experience something, you wouldn’t otherwise.”

“No, thank you” You weren’t in the mood for something new. You wanted to mourn and rage at what you left behind and burrow yourself under blankets with pints of ice cream at home.

“Alright. Have a good evening, miss” He tipped his head and went off into the direction of, supposedly, the stairs to the mezzanine level.

You went home. You were surprised to see Chad had actually gotten his stuff out of your appartement. At least one pleasant thing had come out of the morning, in a twisted way. In the living room, you did exactly what you wanted to do. Eating all the ice cream you had in the freezer and basically becoming a blanket burrito.

When you woke, you felt blankets around you and a softly pulsing headache behind your forehead. You opened your eyes and blinked. And blinked. You turned your head. And blinked again. Slowly realization trickled in. Something wasn’t right. You weren’t where you were when you’d went to sleep.

Whatever you laid on was soft and big. You could turn your whole body and roll around. You could move and you could orientate yourself in your body. You looked down and saw you were still in the clothes you had worn to the bar. Right, you didn’t put on pajamas before going to sleep.

Just as you sat up on the bed, you heard a door open. You turned your head and couldn’t believe your eyes.

“Steve?!”

“Just the one.”

“Why?”

“I just want to take care of you. Is that so hard to understand?”

#my things #my writing #siris5ksoftdarkchallenge #dark!steve rogers x you #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x y/n #dark!steve rogers x reader insert #dark!steve rogers #dark!marvel fanfiction #fanfiction

[mcufox123]

Table 5 (Chapter 6)

Summary: Wanda finally meets one of your closest friends. You are also overcome with emotions about your new relationship.

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety and anxiety attacks. Implications of smut

A/N: This was a hard chapter to write and read back. If you guys have any suggestions or comments please let me know!

Chapter1 Chapter2 Chapter3 Chapter 4 Chapter5

Your night went on and when it was time you lined up the food to bring to the Avengers. The servers helped you carry the food, and you were sure to grab Wanda’s food so you could place it in front of her. As you put it down you put your hand on her back and she leaned back into your touch.

“I hope everyone enjoys their meal here tonight! If there are any problems, please feel free to let me know!” you say as the group begins to dig into their food. You walk back to your station nervous that they wouldn’t like your food.

You were wrong when 15 minutes later Tony Stark meets your eyes and waves you over to the table.

“Yes sir? Is everything ok?” you ask nervously.

“Chef Y/N, dinner was unbelievable. My swordfish was cooked perfectly. I mean how do you do that? It was flakey and the flavors just danced in my mouth.” He gushed about his platter that was now completely clear of any food that had been on there.

“Dude my steak was so good too!” Sam continued the praise and you felt pride well up in your chest.

“Thank you! I’m only as good as my team, I’m sure you guys know how that goes.”

“Of course! You’re giving Wanda down there a run for her money. She cooks as well, pretty decently actually.” Tony said nodding to the girl down the table from him. You smiled because you knew what an amazing cook she was. You played along so nobody would suspect anything.

“Is that so? I will have to see for myself someday.” You see her laugh and you smile in return, loving the way her laugh sounds.

“Anytime you want Chef Y/N.” she said giving you a wink. The way she said your name sent a chill through your body.

“Seriously, thank you. And I will definitely be coming back here.” Tony said while shaking your hand.  You thanked him once more before finding their server and telling her that their meal was on you tonight. You chuckled to yourself a bit as you imagined their faces when you show up to movie night on Wednesday while walking back to where Bill was chilling behind the counter.

“So how did you land her?” Bill asked, nodding his head to the big table who were ordering dessert.

“Remember that night her and Vision came in and he proposed, and she said no and just sat there?” you remind him of the night all those months ago.

“Yes, and she sat there all night.” He continues, he doesn’t know the full story though.

“Well, after everyone left, I told her she could stay as long as she liked, and I started making dinner for myself. She came over and instead she insisted on finishing making my dinner. After that night she came as much as she could when the restaurant closed to make me dinner. We were friends for the first few months and then about a month ago I asked her to be my girlfriend and we’ve been dating ever since.” You fill him in on your relationship.

“Wait, so you let this lady cook at your station before you let me cook back here? That’s messed up I thought I was your best friend?” You looked at your friend and chuckled as he continued. “Why are you so scared then? She seems great.”

“Her job is scary, and I didn’t think about that till tonight. I mean what if something happens to her? How will I know? I can’t do anything to stop her or help her.” You say thinking about all the things that could happen to her running through your head.

“Y/N, it’s her job, just like cooking is your job. Also, everyone, not just superheroes, could get hurt at any point of the day. I could get hit by a car and die walking home tonight. We can’t focus on everything that could go wrong, focus on how happy you are instead.” You are shocked at how wise your friend is.

“Who are you and what did you do to Bill?” you ask giving him a serious expression. “For real though, thank you. That made me feel a lot better.”

“No problem. It’s what I’m here for. Serious question though, when can I meet her?” you take a minute to think about it.

“If you want to stick around, she’s coming back tonight.” he nods his head in excitement and the two of you clean up the kitchen. You see the avengers walk out of the restaurant and you give them a wave. The group walks down the sidewalk before Wanda says something to Steve and turns around to come back.

She walks in the restaurant and over to your station. She gives you a loving kiss and says, “See you tonight my love!” before she runs back out the doors to the team who are just standing there chatting not even paying attention to their missing teammate.

You watch her with a grin on your face. Bill claps you on the back as you go to the cupboard to grab a bottle of wine. Bill stands at the counter, and you decide to whip up some brownies for dinner tonight.

The time passes, the servers finish cleaning up and all of your staff besides Bill leaves. Your brownies are in the oven, and you go to the freezer to get your vanilla ice cream. When you come back you see Bill talking to Wanda by the counter.

You gently put the ice cream on the counter and sneak up behind Wanda to wrap her in a hug and kiss her cheek.

“Hi beautiful.” You say. Bill watches both of you with curious eyes.

“Hello my love.” She says back as she wraps her arms around your waist.

“Bill this is Wanda, Wanda this is Bill. He’s second in command here and my best friend since high school.” You tell her. She looks at you while your speaking loving the way you look after work.

“Thanks y/n! I already introduced myself but Wanda it’s so nice meeting you!” Bill says bringing the wine glass up to his lips. “Wanda was just telling me about the Airport battle in Germany.” Bill loved hearing about the Avengers so the fact that you were dating one was a fanboy moment for him.

As they continued to talk about numerous battles that the Avengers have fought and won, you felt yourself becoming more and more anxious. Bill talked you down earlier thinking about Wanda getting hurt but the more they talked about battles, the harder it was to be ok. Thinking about Wanda being hurt and not being able to be with you left you feeling lost. She was a very powerful person and probably a target for many people. What if she was seriously hurt? What if she had to go away for months? What if she died? The thoughts kept swarming your head and they wouldn’t stop.

You stayed silent for most of the conversation as you put the brownies on plates with ice cream on top for them to eat. You stayed by your station while they were by the counter talking. Zoning out in your thoughts you missed when Bill informed you both that he had to leave.

“Well, I have to head on out! Lots to do tonight before tomorrow. Wanda it was so nice meeting you though!” Bill says hugging Wanda and coming around to shake your hand. You stare at it for a second before shaking it.

“Bill it was so nice meeting you!” Wanda says eyeing you curiously because of your behavior. He grabs his things and walks out the back door with one last wave.

“How was your day babe?” She asks you once Bill leaves. You don’t know why but you start to feel very anxious being with her alone tonight. All of the words Natasha and Bill said still running through your mind. It’s like your brain is running a marathon and you can’t stop it.

“It was good.” You give your shortest reply to the question. It was starting to get difficult to breath or focus on anything.

“Are you ok?” she has concern clear on her face. You feel your chest tighten up more when you look at her. You see her face littered with cuts and bruises and you freeze. You don’t know how to help her or make the cuts better. She can tell something is wrong and she isn’t sure what to do.

“Y/n, honey, I’m here ok. Whatever you need.” She says as she walks towards you realizing that you are not ok. The closer she gets you can see the cuts becoming more prominent on her face and you start to hyperventilate.

“Hold me please?” You can’t even look at her as you ask but you feel arms wrap around you. The weight on your chest is heavy and you try and calm down but it’s difficult. Wanda runs her hands up and down your back as she tries to soothe you.

“It’s ok I’m here.” She reassures you. After ten minutes you feel yourself start to calm down. You know exactly why you feel this way, but it is hard for you to communicate it to her tonight. You have a troubled past that doesn’t reach the light too often. She continues to hold you until you pull away. You put a mask back on as you pretend that you are fine.

“Here let me clean up these plates.” You grab the dirty dishes and put them in the sink choosing to ignore what just happened. You do not want to dwell on it, and you know Wanda is going to ask questions.

“Do you want to talk about it? I’m here for you I’ll listen.” Wanda asks you to try to figure out your sudden outburst. You wish you could put into words what was happening, but you didn’t want to scare her away.

“Can we just forget about that please?” you walk towards her grabbing her hands. She can see that you aren’t going to budge so she agrees. You turn off the lights in the restaurant before the both of head to your loft. You get ready for bed, as does Wanda and when she comes out of the bathroom, she is quick to cuddle into your arms.

“Do you want to watch some TV?” you ask her, and you just feel her nod against your chest. You put on Modern Family, a mindless show.

“Hey y/n can we talk about something.” Wanda works up the courage to bring up a tough subject.

“Of course, my love.” She sits up so she can look at you while talking.

“Y/N, I know we haven’t really talked about it but I’m an avenger. My job is taxing and it’s constant. And I never know what is going to happen.” You could tell this conversation was hard for her to say, it was hard for her to hear but in this moment, you forget about all your worries as best you can to focus on her. You push all your unsaid feelings aside so you could try and help her through this. “If you can’t… if that isn’t ok you know the… the… unknown I understand.” She says tears welling up in her eyes. This broke you because although you have known this girl for 6 months you would do anything for her.

“I love you.” You reassure her, cupping her face in your hands. “I’m not going anywhere don’t worry.”

“Are you sure?” she’s unsure at your words.

“Wanda, I have not been this sure of anything else in my life.” And it’s true. You don’t want to go anywhere, the part you’re not telling her is that you don’t want her to go anywhere either. You don’t want other people to have to need her like you do. She brightens every night when she comes to see you, and you don’t want to lose her.

You share a sweet kiss before she snuggles into you again. “Can I ask another question?”

You chuckle before you reply, “You can ask me as many questions as you want whenever you want.”

“What did Natasha say to you?” You tense up a bit, your anxiety bubbling in your body again as the question is heading back to the subject you just tried to shut down.

“Just saying she knew who I was and what we were.” You tell her half the truth hoping she didn’t feel you go stiff under her.

“Haha yeah I kind of told her about us today.” She chuckles nervously.

“That’s quite alright. I mean I’m happy to tell everyone I know I’m dating you.” You reassure her. “You are amazing. The way you care about people, the way you love the team, you’re not too bad of a cook either.” You start to sit up and she falls underneath of you. You are quick to climb on top of her, so your face is mere inches from her. “You are stunning, I could get lost in your eyes for forever. And you make me the happiest person I have ever been.” You look into her eyes, so she knows you mean every word.

Tears start to form in her eyes as she is overcome with emotion. She reaches up to your face keeping your eye contact. “You make me the happiest person I have ever been too. I am so lucky to have you to brighten up my days. After everything that I’ve been through with my family, with being experimented on, with losing my brother, with everything that happened between me and the avengers at first, I never thought I would feel this way about anyone.” You felt butterflies swirl in your stomach as you leaned down to kiss her.

“Are you sleepy?” You ask her hoping she said no. You wanted to spend the night wrapped up in each other’s arms.

“Not particularly. Are you?”  Her eyes grew a few shades darker as she looked in your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m super tired.” You say in a sarcastic tone while you roll your eyes. She squints her eyes at you.

“You better not be.” She expertly flipped you both over, so she was now on top of you. She leaned down to pepper your face in. Needless to say, you both end up barely getting sleep.

Taglist:

@b0mbdotc0m @yeetus-thyself @ineedafinghug @madamevirgo @when-wolves-howl @musicinourlips

#wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #Black Widow #natasha romanoff #tony stark #Iron Man #falcon #mcu fanfiction #marvel #natasha romanov #mcu imagine #mcu #marvel mcu #mcufam #Avengers #The Avengers #avengers fanfiction #avengers funny

[midnightsconspiracy]

Grief-Stricken Pt.2

Grief - Stricken Pt. 2 - @midnightsconspiracy

Summary: This is the aftermath of losing your baby and how you manage to rebuild your lives up once again

Warnings: Talk of MISCARRIAGE

Word Count: 1181

Requested: Yes!!

'Can we get a sequel to Grief-stricken where Reader and Hank heal, and maybe he realizes he does want a baby after all?'

A/N: Requests are closing soon so send in all your last ones before the 27th!!

Masterlist

Grief was a funny thing really. It worked in mysterious ways. For some people it drives them to the edge, losing touch with reality, causing relationships to split and end for good. But other times it pulled couples together, sticking with one another to deal with that loss and grieve accordingly. No one could adequately prepare you to handle your grief though, experiencing emotions beyond what you thought possible.

It was hard at first, feeling completely numb to anything around, including your boyfriend, who was struggling just as much. It had been hard on the both of you, the tragedy hitting you so unexpectedly. But, Hank continued going to go to the police station, not knowing anything other than being surrounded by his work, keeping all his emotions pent up, just waiting for them to crack. You on the other hand refused to leave the house, spending the majority of your days laying in bed, staring at the wall, mind void of any thoughts. When you did eventually move from that spot, you'd go to the couch, watching mindless tv in the hopes it would lift your spirits. Each night when Hank would come back, you would eat in silence before heading up to bed for a night of avoiding talking and any forms of affection. This lasted a couple of months, never having felt more distance between the two of you. But, after too long, you craved some comfort and communication from the one you were supposed to love the most.

Unbeknownst to you, Hank had broken down a couple days previously, having bottled his emotion up so much to the point of no return. In true Voight fashion, he'd buried himself so far into his work, that one particular case involving a newborn child had triggered him. So he had filled the night with crying whilst drinking his sorrows away.

Having spent that night sleeping in his office, he returned the subsequent evening, needing to talk to you properly. Stepping into the house he found you on the couch, staring at a blank screen as if there was something there.

"Y/N?" He whispered, wanting to catch your attention without scaring you. Turning your head at the sudden noise, you noticed the figure of your boyfriend, a sombre look on his face. Moving out from the centre of the sofa you tapped the space next to you, inviting him to come join. Bringing you into his arms, he held you tight, an unspoken conversation of love happening between you. Tears formed in your eyes, not being able to keep yourself composed at the feeling of your boyfriend's warmth once again.

"Im sorry, it's all my fault," you sobbed, everything you had wanted to say that heartbreaking night now resurfacing.

"It's not your fault sweetheart, none of this is your fault, it's that bastard's." He reassured, pulling you completely on top of him before making you look him in the eye, portraying all his emotions.

"And im so sorry for what I said, it was stupid and I didn't mean any of it." After months of dwelling on this, you realised that maybe he didn't think it was your fault, that you couldn't have done anything to stop it from happening.

"I love you," you whispered, your face in the crook of his neck, his shirt absorbing the tears you shed.

"I love you too, so, so much and we can move forward from this with our relationship, always with the baby in our hearts."

And that's what you did, took each week, day by day. Slowly regaining each other's trust and allowing yourself to rejoin society. You would now talk to each other if something was wrong, sleep next to each other and showed affection whenever you felt like it. The love you had for him was coming back, restored from how much it had slipped in your depressive episode. He was the best person you could ask for, reducing his hours at work to make sure you were happy and safe, being all-around perfect boyfriend material. Going back to work was still a long way off but you were now willing to go outside, whether that was shopping or a routine doctor's appointment. Things were starting to look up, a future where you would be with Hank, happy and potentially with your own family.

The year after the initial event had gone by pretty quick, the last seven months allowing you to rebuild the foundations of your relationship. Things had, for the most part, gone back to normal, your work, your life, your whole relationship. The baby always seemed to linger at the back of your mind though. No longer in a way that made you feel depressed, but instead with a small smile, not of happiness, but of what could have been. Neither of you had bought up the topic of children again, both afraid of what the other would say. However, the question played on your minds, wondering what life might be like with a kid. Hank's mind had been changed over the past year, no longer thinking that starting a family was a mistake, instead, that it was something that he wanted. But he knew how much the loss had hurt you, not wanting to bring up any repressed memories.

Stepping through the threshold of your shared house, he spotted you in the kitchen, walking up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Hi my love, how was your day off?" As a condition of your going back to work, your ever so protective boyfriend insisted you took one day during the week off, alongside the weekends. You had refused at first, just wanting everything to get back to normal and that was not helping at all. But you had reluctantly agreed, knowing he would not back down otherwise.

"It was ok, I missed you though and I cooked dinner!' You chirped back, excited to finally see him again. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pecked his lips, the mere presence of him bringing a smile to your face.

"I missed you too sweetheart, but I wanted to talk to you about something. It's nothing serious I promise." Squeezing his arms around your waist, he smiled, reassuring you that it wasn't a bad thing.

'I was thinking about somethings later, how would you feel about another child," he spoke softly, approaching the issue lightly, knowing it could go either way.

"I don't know Hank, I really want to but im scared," you replied, surprised at the fact he bought this up, but also terrified that something might happen again.

"I know you are and I am too, but if we do, we go at your pace, step by step." Reassuring you to make sure you were ok with it was his priority, you were it for him and he couldn't risk jeopardising anything, even if it meant not having another baby.

"Ok, step by step, promise?" You asked, shyly looking at him in order to comfort you in all of this.

"I promise"

----------

Taglist: @mileika @redpoodlern @ohitshanksgirlxo @chazubagi @scarletsoldierrr @cindydoll2 @anotherfan07 @one-sweet-gubler

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#chicago pd #chicago pd imagines #chicago pd x reader #one chicago #hank voight x reader #hank voight #hank voight imagines

[gavin-plz-call-me]

Melted Ice Cream

TW: Internalized Acephobia, brief mentions of gender dysphoria and blood.

All Vincent wanted to do was cuddle on the couch with his boyfriends and watch a movie, but they had different plans. Them having sex without him leads Vincent to question his place in the relationship.

Fandom: Boyfriends (webcomic)

Use of Cannon Names: Prep-Vincent

Jock-Kevin

Nerd-Adrian

Goth-Felix

AO3

Words: 3K

The movie that Adrian had picked out was surprisingly really good. It was some cute slice-of-life anime movie that Vincent was sure would be a bit boring, not that he’d ever complain when he got to be in the arms of his boyfriends, but the characters were compelling and the storyline was phenomenal. Vincent was cuddled up next to Kevin, who held an arm around Vincent, drawing mindless circles against him as the four paid attention to the movie. This, Vincent decided, was the most perfect moment he had ever lived: watching a good movie and basking in the love of his boyfriends.

That didn’t last long.

It started off subtly enough, the couch moving slightly under Vincent as someone shifted their position, the quiet sound of a peck on a cheek. They were things that were so often just the background noise to Vincent’s life, that he could easily tune them out in favor of seeing if the girls in the movie would confess or not. Kevin’s arm slowly moved away from Vincent’s shoulder, he shuddered at the loss of warmth and finally looked up to see what was happening beyond the movie. Kevin’s retreated hand found its way to Vincent’s thigh, squeezing it firmly as he nibbled on Adrian’s ear. Adrian, who was currently making out with Felix, subtle moans already starting to form in his throat.

As appealing as the scene before him was, Vincent knew already that tonight was not the night he wanted to do this. All he wanted to do was cuddle up with his boyfriends and finish the movie, but they had other plans. Not wanting to impede their pleasure, Vincent resisted as Kevin tried to pull him off of the couch. “Not tonight guys,” He said, laying down on the couch, looking up at the men currently standing up, about to move to the bedroom, “I’m gonna finish the movie, you guys have fun.”

Kevin knelt down, his warm hand brushing the hair out of Vincent’s face, “Are you sure?” he asked, “‘Cuz if you’d rather, we can all finish the movie and-”

“No,” Vincent interrupted, he could already see the hard-on blooming in Kevin’s pants as he knelt down beside him, and Adrian’s face was already his signature shade of beet red as he gazed at Vincent too, they wouldn’t enjoy the movie now anyways, “go have fun, really.” Kevin gave Vincent’s face a good look for another few seconds before pressing a kiss to his forehead and disappearing into the bedroom with Felix and Adrian.

Vincent grabbed a blanket from a nearby chair, laying down on the couch. The heat from where the other three had been sitting moments ago was still there, but it was quickly fading. Vincent could finish movie night by himself, maybe get some cleaning done around the apartment, then, when his boyfriends were finished, he could cuddle up with them and fall asleep. That would be nice. The movie was getting better and better by the second, the girls having finally confessed, went on a date, which was currently being interrupted by one of their ex’s.

A loud moan of pleasure ripped through the apartment, covering up the audio to the pivotal scene. No one was louder than Adrian, that’s for sure, and while it was hot when he was participating, Vincent felt more like an annoyed neighbor than a loving boyfriend. He didn’t dare turn up the TV, though, he wouldn’t want even more noise complaints. The moans showed no signs of stopping anytime soon, so Vincent paused the movie, grabbed his keys, and headed out the door, locking it behind him. There was no way he’d be able to concentrate, let alone hear the rest of the movie, and with his relaxing night interrupted, he didn’t have the heart to clean. A nice drive would do him good. The blonde moved down the stairs of the apartment complex, into the parking garage, and clicked his key to remember just where he had parked. His car gave a satisfying beep that echoed through the enclosed space.

Vincent climbed into his convertible, whose roof was currently up, turned it on, and quickly made his way out of the garage and onto one of the main roads. Vincent rolled down his window, letting the wind fall softly across his face. None of the stations were playing anything that interested him, and Vincent didn’t feel like hooking up his own phone, so he turned it off, basking in the silence.

Silence rarely brings good things to a mind in crisis.

Bored, Vincent’s mind began to wander to his boyfriends. He hoped they were having a good time together, but it was hard to imagine any of those three could leave the others unsatisfied, so there wasn’t too much to worry about there. Did they miss him?

A sudden red light had Vincent slamming on the break, stopping his car, but not his thoughts. Did they miss him? Of course they did, the logical side of Vincent’s head said, but the more he thought about it, the more unsure he grew. They were probably having mind-blowing sex over at home, he probably handn’t appeared in their thoughts since the second they closed the bedroom door. Why would they? He wasn’t there providing them pleasure, he almost never was. For some reason, Vincent’s sex drive was just never as high as the others, he was always turning them down, day after day. It was only a matter of time before they stopped trying to include him, it was only a matter of time before they-

“MOVE IT ASSHOLE!” A scream accompanied by a cluster of honks brought Vincent back to; the light was green. Vincent slammed on the accelerator, taking off once again. He really shouldn’t be driving if he was going to keep getting distracted, so he signaled and turned into a parking lot, rolling his window back up. He leaned back in his seat, eyes gazing up at nothing in particular. Maybe he was broken. That had to be it. There was asexuality, but Vincent was sure that didn’t describe him. He liked sex, he wanted to have sex, at least every once in a while, and he thought his boyfriends were incredibly sexy, so what was the problem?

Tears began to sting in his eyes. The problem must lie within himself. They’d see that soon, wouldn’t they? He hoped to whatever gods were out there in the universe that they’d never see the problem, but Felix, Adrian, and Kevin were smart. They’d realize it eventually, and he… where would he fit in once they realized?

Tears free-flowed down his face now. Vincent didn’t bother trying to stop them, just letting himself silently cry. Thoughts swirled around his head, too frantically for Vincent to stop them. They clouded his mind as his tears clouded his vision. A sudden buzz of his phone pulled him out of his thoughts for a moment. He picked it up and was greeted by a picture of Felix flipping the camera off. Why was Felix calling him so soon? It was only...Vincent had been in the car much longer than he thought he had. Taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to compose himself, Vincent picked up the phone.

“Vince, where are you?” Felix’s voice sounded in his ear with that slightly groggily tone his voice always got right after sex. Vincent could tell he was on speaker “Your keys are gone.”

“Yeah, I…” Vincent looked out the window, looking for an excuse that wouldn’t expose his hurt, “The movie got boring so I thought I’d get us some ice cream.”

“Ooh!” Adrian interrupted before Vincent could say more, secretly he was grateful as he could feel his throat beginning to tighten again. “Get me cotton candy please!” Kevin and Felix called out their orders, cookies and cream and mint chocolate chip respectively, after Adrian. Vincent hummed in acknowledgment, before letting out a quick “love you” and hanging up the phone. Something about their cheery attitudes made him want to start crying again, but he forcefully held the tears in, hoping his eyes wouldn’t look too blotchy when he got home.

Vincent quickly made his way through the drive-through, ordering the three ice creams, not bothering to order one for himself. His stomach was in knots, and the thought of eating made him more nauseous than anything. He turned the radio up, not particularly caring what blasted through his speakers, only wanting something to keep his mind away from dark thoughts. When he arrived back at the parking garage Vincent thanked his past self for putting concealer in his glove compartment. He quickly touched up his under eyes, masking the remnants of red that remained on his face, then finally left the car to take the elevator upstairs.

The living room to the apartment was still empty when Vincent finally unlocked the door, stepping inside. Vincent let out a slight shiver as a blast of cold air from the apartment hit him. He made his way to the bedroom. There he found Felix, Adrian, and Kevin cuddled against each other. Felix was dressed in basketball shorts and a t-shirt, Adrian in Kevin’s shirt, and Kevin in nothing but his underwear. Vincent was glad that they at least dressed before he came home, but the room, which still smelt strongly of sex with a bottle of lube haphazardly strung onto the floor, still gave away what activities they had been partaking in. Vincent handed out the ice creams, flopping into bed next to Felix when he was finally done.

Kevin reached over and stroked Vincent’s arm, “Didn’t you get yourself any, baby?” He asked through a spoonful of his treat.

Vincent hesitated for a moment before nodding, “Already ate it,” he lied.

“God,” Adrian called out from beside Kevin, “Cotton candy ice cream is the best.” He moaned in delight, savoring the sweet taste of his ice cream. Vincent slightly tensed at the moan, broken, his mind called out.

Vincent leaped out of bed, “I’m gonna go do the dishes,” he said, not facing his boyfriends. If he got one look at them he knew he’d cry again.

“What?” Adrian whined, “But cuddles? Dishes can wait.”

“I won’t be able to relax knowing the dishes aren’t done, I-” He tried to get more words out, but his breath hitched slightly. Praying his boyfriends didn’t notice, he quickly escaped the room for the kitchen. There really weren’t many dishes in the sink, just a few plates, cups, and silverware lay. It could have waited till morning, Adrian was right, Vincent knew that, but he turned on the sink anyways. The rush of water from the faucet did nothing to cover up his returning bad thoughts. Why couldn’t he be more normal? He couldn’t even eat ice cream with his boyfriends, couldn’t even cuddle up with them, and relax because his brain just wouldn’t stop thinking. His throat began closing in on itself as his hands shook from the exertion of keeping the tears inside. He wouldn’t cry, he wouldn’t place that burden on his boyfriends. They were already burdened enough to have him in their lives, right?

CRASH

The glass that Vincent had been washing slipped from his hands unceremoniously and fell to the ground, smashing into hundreds of pieces. A piece ground horribly into his calf, leaving an angry red mark that began to bleed, but the pain of the scratch was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. The broken cup, as broken as him, would be yet another burden on Felix, Adrian, and Kevin. Ignoring the blood, ignoring the loud sobs that had finally begun racking his body, Vincent kneeled on the ground, trying to pick up the mess with shaking hands.

Before he could satisfyingly clean up his mess, a pair of hands grabbed his, forcing the glass back onto the floor. Vincent tried to pull away, the only thing on his mind was cleaning up the mess, not being a burden on his boyfriends, maybe they’d keep him around longer if he did this. “Vincent,” A voice called out, stern and full of concern. The blonde refused to turn towards the voice, just struggling to get to the glass, “Vincent,” the voice called out again, “You’re bleeding.”

Those words caused Vincent to snap back. He looked down through still misty eyes at his own hands, which were still being held still by the wrists. Blood was leaking out of his palms from the shards of glass that had embedded themselves into his skin, the blood dripped onto the floor and onto the hands of the hands holding his. “We’re gonna get you cleaned up, okay.” The voice from earlier, that Vincent finally recognized as Kevin’s, said softly into his ear. Vincent nodded, allowing Kevin to help him up and walk towards the couch. Kevin supported Vincent as he slowly sat down, then sat next to the blonde, keeping him close. Soon enough, Adrian came running in with the first aid kit, his glasses slightly foggy from the exertion of running around looking for it.

Felix grabbed the first aid kit from the nerd, kneeling down in front of Vincent and grabbing the worst injured hand. They all sat in silence for a while as Felix fished out the glass shards from Vincent’s hands with a pair of tweezers. Vincent whimpered from the pain, hiding his face in Kevin’s neck, reveling in the warmth of his presence. Tears continued to leisurely roll down Vincent’s face; tears from the pain and because of the lingering smell of sex that permeated around him. Adrian sat opposite of Kevin, rubbing the prep’s shoulder supportively. “You’re doing so good, baby.” Kevin was the first to speak, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead. Vincent’s tears leaked out of his eyes with renewed vigor at the simple, loving action.

When his hands and leg were properly cleaned and bandaged, Felix placed gentle kisses against his hands. “This isn’t just about the cup, is it?” Adrian asked, cuddling closer to the crying figure, “You…you were acting off for a bit there. If you wanna talk about it, we’re here for you, Vince.”

Vincent really didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want the burden of his own brokenness, his own feelings, to be dropped on his boyfriends, but sitting there being held by the three men he loves more than anything or anyone in the universe, he couldn’t help it. “I-” Vincent choked on a sob, “Why do you guys keep me around?”

There was silence for only a brief second before Felix bolted up grasping Vincent’s face in his shaking hands, “Why would you say that Vince?” His slightly calloused fingers wiped tears away from the prep’s face.

“I mean, I’m broken.” Vincent averted his eyes from Felix’s, looking down at his own empty palms, “Who’d want a boyfriend who never wants to have sex?” The three other boys opened their mouths to speak at the same time, but Vincent only continued, “I mean, tonight, you guys were...were together and...and I could only think about how jealous I was. About how much I just wanted to cuddle on the couch with you guys, but...but if I told you to stay, you’d find out how broken I really am. Can’t have sex, can’t communicate, hell, I can’t even wash the dishes right.”

Felix’s hand slowed to a stop on Vincent’s face, “Look at me, sweetheart,” he said softly, gently encouraging Vincent’s face to move upwards, but he refused. “Vincent, please look at me, please.” His voice cracked slightly. At that sound, Vincent finally looked back up at Felix, whose eyes were now flooded with tears to match his. “You are not broken,” he said firmly, “and I will not sit here and let you talk about yourself like that.”

“But it’s-”

“You have always been there for me when I’m feeling dysphoric. When I look in the mirror and all I see is a girl, you’re there to help me find myself again. You shut me down when I insult myself, so like hell am I’m gonna sit here and let you do that to yourself.” Felix’s forehead met Vincent’s, whispering against it, “please let me, let us, help you see the you we see.”

Two more heads made their way towards Felix and Vincent’s, tears rolling down their faces as well, “We’ll keep you around forever,” Kevin murmured into Vincent’s collarbone, “You’ve done so much for us, you’re so good.”

“I’d never have sex again if it meant keeping you by our side,” Adrian sobbed, grasping Vincent’s shirt that had long grown damp from the four men’s tears.

Vincent wanted to insist that he didn’t have to do that, but his tears stopped his words. They were no longer tears of sadness, or fear, or self-hatred. They were tears of happiness. His boyfriends, the men he loves more than anyone else in the world, were there by his side. Vincent’s eyes may only see the bad in himself, but their eyes? They saw an amazing man whom they love, who may not be perfect, but who is? The flaws Vincent saw were perfections to them, and Vincent felt all that love at that moment. So much love, it was almost too much to bear.

After a while of crying together, Vincent finally spoke again, laughing slightly through tears, “your guy’s ice cream is probably melted.”

“Who cares,” Kevin said, “Who needs ice cream when we have you?” And so the boys stayed, enjoying each other's embrace, wiping each other’s tears, while the three melted ice creams and the broken cup lay forgotten until morning.

#boyfriends webcomic #boyfriends webtoon #boyfriends webcomic fanfic #Jock x nerd x prep x goth #TW acephobia #tw gender dysphoria #tw bl00d #hurt/comfort

[nebulousfishgills]

I Didn't Wanna Wake You

Request by: @ohitshoneybee : SO THE GIF YOU SENT ME OF SHIRTLESS BUCKY FROM THE SNEAK PEEK GAVE ME AN IDEA! so its a fluffy bucky x non binary reader bc there arent enough queer fics out there?? im leaning heavily towards romantic relationship? so basically, bucky has a nightmare and tries his hardest not to wake up reader, so he goes out to the living room and turns on the tv, throwing his pillow and blanket on the floor falling asleep etc. reader wakes up soon after he leaves and theres some wholesome therapeutic moments

Okay, Bee, let's get one thing straight: please for the love of god, don't flood my inbox with Bucky requests constantly 😂. I appreciate you and care for you, but I need breathing room, okay. Ily bro 💛

Also, so excited for this show!!! Can't wait for future installments!

(There aren't any spoilers in this :3)

Warnings: fluff, mild angst, kind of short (sorry)

ฯฯฯ

"Hail Hydra."

Bucky shot awake at that moment, recalling what exactly he had remembered. It wasn't a very clear memory, but the emotions, or lack thereof, were there. Just a mindless assassin following orders because someone wanted someone else dead.

Bucky sighed and looked over at your sleeping form next to him. You snored softly, the covers halfway down your shoulder. Bucky continued to observe you carefully, his chest still heaving. He wiped the cold sweat off of the back of his neck and slid out of bed. He was careful, barely daring to make a sound so as to not wake you up. He didn't bother putting on a sleepshirt as he grabbed a pillow and one of the extra blankets from under the bed; he didn't want to take the one you both shared.

And he hated burdening you with his problems.

He quietly slipped out the door of your shared room and into the small living room. Your apartment wasn't very large, just enough for the essentials. There was an armchair, but he ignored it in favor of the floor. Casually tossing the pillow on the ground, he sat on it, his back against the wall. Bucky grabbed the TV remote off of the armrest of the chair. He turned the TV on and muted the volume to make sure he wouldn't disturb you.

Though, not long after, you did wake up.

Your eyes flickered open and you reached over to Bucky's side of the bed only to find it empty. Confused, you suddenly noticed the light of the TV through the small opening from the door.

You sighed. This happened pretty frequently. Bucky had a nightmare, he woke up, and slept on the floor in the living room because he didn't wanna bug you. You hated it when it happened. The nightmares and the shutting you out.

You swung your legs out of bed and wrapped Bucky's bathrobe around you to brave the chill of the apartment; so many years in cryo had made him used to cold temperatures.

You quietly crept outside and saw Bucky watching the silent TV, his head resting on his arms that lay atop his folded in knees.

"What's wrong?" You whispered. Bucky jumped at the sound of your voice, before calming down realizing it was just you.

"It's nothing." He replied, turning his attention back to the TV.

"It's not nothing, Buck. You had a nightmare again." You sat next to him, yet he still didn't meet your gaze.

"What makes you think that?"

"Because you do this every time you have one."

Bucky sighed.

"I don't wanna burden--"

"Burden me with your problems? Buck, we're in this together. Don't shut me out, let me help you. Besides, is silently watching soccer more important than me?"

"Nothing's more important than you, but--"

"But nothing. I hate it when you do this. It-it just breaks my heart."

Bucky finally turned to face you, a sincere look on his face. You held his gaze for a moment before he softly smiled.

"Look, you're the best thing to ever happen to me, but you shouldn't have to hold the weight of my problems on your shoulders. That's my job. I'm supposed to work through it, make amends, and learn to cope."

"But your therapist said that doing it alone is like your own personal hell."

"Don't drag her into this."

"I'm not. I'm dragging me into this because I want to help you. I really do." Bucky opened his mouth to retort, but you continued before he could say anything. "If you don't wanna talk about the dreams right now, then that's fine, but I at least want you to be honest with me. Tell me what the problem is, and you can decide if you wanna disclose any more information. Do what makes you comfortable. But don't keep me out of it. At least just... Keep a line of communication open."

Bucky's small smile turned into a larger one as he pulled you closer to him, the chain of his old dog tags pressing against your cheek.

"What would I do without you?" He asked.

"Sit alone in your apartment eating alone and being lonely. Alone." You replied. "But I'm here for you."

"I'm here, too."

ฯฯฯ

Hoped you liked it, Bee!

As always, requests are open, so send them in!

#marvel #movies #avengers #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #winter soldier #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x gn!reader #bucky fanfic #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x gn!reader #gn!reader #request

[weareallstoriesintheend]

Heavy (Charlie Barber x Reader)

Summary: I don't really have a summary for this. It just needed to be written - have some mental health comfort with Charlie.

I haven't proof read this so apologies for any mistakes.

Warnings: Mental Health

Word Count: 1,795

Everything felt heavy.

This was new.

It was like everything felt too much to handle. So instead of standing up, finding a way through – a normal practice for you – you retreated. You retreated much further back than you had in a long time. This wasn’t fast; it was a slow process of watching everything fall apart around and within you. Nothing felt right anymore and it bugged you. It bugged you that you didn’t feel worthy of trying anymore, people around you reminded you that you were but when you were left alone for even a minute life felt like nothing. Everything felt simultaneously blank and all too much.

Whenever you felt like this you were reminded of a quote you read once, by F. Scott Fitzgerald, which had just stuck in your mind. “The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.” You didn’t even know it was a real quote but nothing had ever resonated with you quite like this.

Today was dark. Today felt like giving up. So you sat alone at home, no lights on inside but just watching the day slowly disappear with the light outside. Your laptop light illuminated your face in the dying light and although it hurt your eyes it was something to numb your mind. Movement felt almost impossible so even as your stomach growled at you for food you just patiently shushed it and carried on the mindless tasks you could do from exactly where you were in bed.

Then you heard a key in the lock and the quiet push open of the door. You’d expected it honestly. You’d waited for the sound of his spare key in the lock for a couple of days, he was a busy man so you put no time frame on this expectancy but you knew him. You knew how his mind would buzz with worry as you slowly slipped away from him but you didn’t have the energy or the words to say anything. To you it felt easier, but to him it would feel like the world was ending. You waited for the second pair of smaller footsteps. Sometimes he’d bring his son Henry with him in the hopes that his incessant youthful energy would spur you up out of bed. Sometimes it worked and sometimes he’d frantically place Henry in front of the TV to keep him from seeing Dads girlfriend, and his favourite new person/babysitter, in such a state. This time they never came and you breathed a slight sigh of relief.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw his wide frame occupy the doorway, leaning casually and eyes scanning you and your surroundings.

“You should have called” his deep tone cut through the silence and you internally flinched. The silence was comforting; you didn’t have to answer to the silence.

“I don’t know where my phone is”

You saw him reach into his pocket, still not having made eye contact with him yet, and type something into his phone. In the distance you heard a ringing; he swiftly followed it and returned a moment later with the ringing phone.

“It’s barely got any charge. Where is the charger honey?” he asked, so gentle.

You pointed to the corner of the room where you always get the charger plugged into the wall. He padded over, you noticed he’d kicked off his shoes, and stooped to plug in your phone with the joints of his knees quietly clicking as they bent. The looming frame was now crowding your peripheral vision at the end of the bed.

“That doesn’t change the fact that you should have called” he said, you could hear that he was bordering on slight agitation. Charlie was a patient man, being a father had made him such, but with you he often caught himself gritting his teeth when things got this bad. You knew you were unreasonable and childish but you didn’t have the space in your mind to be anything else. You knew these changes in mood were constant lately and you expectantly waited for the day that agitation turned into dropping off his spare key and never coming back.

You saw him turn, as his back was to you now you lifted your eyes to see him. He was dressed casually, your favourite red jumper of his hugging the broad curve of his shoulders. He was always so well put together.

He reached for the curtains…

“Please don’t” you raised your voice just a little. His hands paused and he turned to you. You heard him huff a breath out and he lifted his hands to rest at his hips. “How was work?” He asked plainly. You shrugged “It was fine”, thankfully right now your job was mostly sitting aimlessly staring at a laptop screen. This was something you comfortably did from bed most days.

“Did you eat today?”

You shook your head. With that he stepped a little closer and you resisted the urge to look at him, the stare of his soft golden brown eyes felt too much. Despite his restlessness for your moods he regarded you with such care and attention. The gentle loving tone of his voice made your chest ache.

“When did you shower last?”

Shrug

“Did you call your mom?”, when you shook your head at this question he audibly tutted. You flinched but hoped the room was dark enough that he didn’t see it.

“You know you need to tell me when things get this bad right? Am I still driving you to therapy tomorrow?”

“I cancelled the appointment” You muttered.

This time he raised his voice and said your name in a tone that sounded nothing short of a parent talking to a child. For some reason it brought you an ounce of comfort.

“I know okay!” you said, the volume of your own voice rising this time. Your mind felt crowded, like someone had filled it with cotton wool and then tied heavy weights to your brain. “I can’t Charlie, okay? I get that I disappoint you when I don’t do what you tell me and then I’m a fucking burden to you because you have to come over here but I just can’t!” your body was shaking and tears poured from your eyes as you frantically tried to brush them away with the pads of your fingers.

He sighed and bent down, elbows resting on the bed, so that he was in your eyeline, “You don’t disappoint me sweetheart and you certainly aren’t a burden; I just care and want you to try”

“I do try!” you shouted; now you looked at him dead in the eyes. His expression instantly changed when he saw your face, crumpled and weary, “Sweetheart, I know you d-“

“- I do try Charlie, but I just can’t. I don’t want to have to try all the time. I don’t want to have to fight all the time. I don’t want to do this!” you gestured wildly around you, signalling the mess of things around you that was a necessity when simple functioning was hard. You sobbed, dropping your face into your hands and letting everything you’d held back all day go.

You tried not to cry anymore, it hurt your eyes and gave you a headache so you stored it. You held it in in the hopes it would go away. But right now with Charlie’s kind eyes on you there was nothing to hold it back. No silence, no peace, just him.

He instantly got to his feet and picked your laptop up from your lap placing it somewhere. He shushed you with a hand through your hair and shuffled you forward with the gentlest tug he could, you looked up to see what he was doing and saw him awkwardly crouching on the bed beside you before he slid in behind you. You tried to speak but his motions distracted you.

Charlie slid himself behind you, his back to the cushions and his legs either side of your hips. Suddenly you were submerged in him, the warmth of his body and the gentle wave of his cologne.

He grabbed your waist and pulled your back flush against his chest. A strong arm wrapped itself around your middle and then the other wrapped a muscular forearm around your chest. You instantly wrapped your fingers around it and held him closer. He placed gentle kisses into your hair and coo’d soft words into your neck until your sobbing had subsided slightly.

You sat, fingers wrapped around his forearm staring blankly at the space in front of you sniffling away your tears. Everything felt numb. But the press of his lips against your skin and the beating of his heart against your back brought you down, lowered your own racing heart and stilled your breath just a little.

“I should have called” you croaked. He placed a firm kiss to your shoulder and said “I know, but I’m here now. I promise I’m not going anywhere”

“But what about Henry?”

“I’ll take care of it” he said, shushing you as you tried to spin in his arms and he whispered your name, “Let me take care of you…” and then even more quietly he added “… Let me love you”

You shook your head “I don’t know how”

“Then let me show you. You are worthy of so much more than a dark empty room and a brain filled with lies”

You nodded and sniffed as more tears began flooding your vision. He pulled you impossibly closer to him, his voice soft and nurturing in your ear.

“I want to help but you have to let me. I will be here for as long as you want me, for as long as you need. But you can’t shut me out again okay?”

You nodded again and tried to speak, the second you opened your mouth no words but a cry was all the sound you made.

“Right, first things first…” his voice trailed off as your body moved, he was leaning down to the bottom drawer of your bedside cabinet. You clung to his forearm as he shuffled around. He plopped a protein bar from your emergency depression snack stash into your lap.

“Eat” he ordered voice stern and you knew not to argue with that tone. The Dad Tone. Your hands shook as you unwrapped the top of the bar and took a tentative bite.

“I don’t deserve you” you whispered, hiccuping through your tears and slow bites.

“Nonsense” he tutted “You deserve the world and I will always try my best to give it to you”

#charlie barber #marriage story #charlie barber x reader #charlie barber x you