#AND I STARTED WORKING ON ANOTHER FIC THAT IVE MENTIONED IN PASSING AND NOW IM HYPERFIXATED ON IT

[brad-bakshi-loves-bugs]

just opened the google doc for chapter 6 of wafwaf for the first time in like. 3 days whoops

[bloomyeu]

with or without you

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: bottling you're feelings for so long, it begins to hurt. until you mention it.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: angst, (no) comfort, not edited

a/n: first fic :p lmk if u liked it hehe

part 2 | masterlist | requests

Love was something you always chased, yearning to feel what people experienced in the movies —the flowers, the kisses, the gifts, that meaningful connection that seems to exist only for a lucky few. 

So when you met Chan, it was as if everything blossomed like flowers in spring.

It had started with little things, when chan would mention how much he missed you he on tour

ynnieeee haiiiii

hi channie! 

hiiheyyy imithu smmsmsm

bfrjjd i do 2

ur back next week right?

yaya i am, we need to meet up once im back

movie night?

movie night. 

You clung to these exchanges, even as you realized they might mean more to you than they did to him.

☄. *. ⋆

there were the times when you both were together, physically close yet emotionally worlds apart. You would catch glimpses of his smile, and your heart would race, but he never noticed the way your gaze lingered a little too long. He would tell you stories from concerts, his voice animated and bright, while you hung onto every word, even the ones that hinted at someone else who made him smile that way.

"You know, you always manage to pull me out of a slump," Chan said with a yawn, his voice laced with gratitude.

"Well, I'm glad I can help. You could basically call me your muse," you replied with a light chuckle, the words teasing yet sincere.

"Yeah, you're definitely my muse," he agreed, a soft smile playing on his lips before he turned back to work. You watched him for a moment longer, feeling a warmth spread through you, knowing that he was your muse too.

As the days went by, your feelings only deepened, even as you tried to push them away.

You would lie awake at night, replaying every conversation, every laugh, every moment, searching for signs that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same.

But each time, you were met with the cold realization that his affection was platonic, kind, and distant, while yours was anything but.

“Chan, have you ever fallen in love?”

“Um, once, but it was a while back. Why?”

“No reason. I’v just always wondered what it feels like to be in that state of mind.”

“Well, it feels like…” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “It feels like everything else fades away, and all that matters is that person. Like you’re finally complete, you know?”

“Must be nice,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, it is,” he replied softly.

“So… no one on your mind right now?”

“Nope. You?”

You stared at him for a moment, heart pounding as you fought the urge to tell him the truth.

“Um, no… but maybe one day,” you said, forcing a smile.

☄. *. ⋆

As the months passed by, you found yourself lost in thoughts of him—his smile, his kindness, and all the love he had to give. The ache of missing him became a constant companion, a reminder of the feelings you harbored in silence.

With lunch in hand and a hopeful heart, you made your way to his studio. The anticipation of seeing him again sparked a mix of excitement and anxiety. You approached the studio’s entrance, eager to surprise him, when you nearly bumped into Felix, who was just leaving. “Hey, Lix! I haven’t seen you in forever!” you greeted, trying to mask your anxiety with a bright smile. “Hi, Yn! What are you doing here?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. “Oh, I’m just dropping off lunch for Chan. I haven’t seen him in so long and thought, why not surprise him, you know?” you replied, your excitement tinged with a hint of nervousness. Felix’s expression shifted subtly, his smile fading into a more thoughtful look. “Ah… maybe it’s better to save the surprise for another time,” he suggested gently. “Can you believe it? He finally has a girl in the studio! I’m actually happy for him—he’s really opening up and putting himself first for the first time since iv met him ahaha”

The words hit you like a cold wave. You tried to keep your composure, but inside, a mixture of confusion and heartache swirled. “A girl?” you echoed, struggling to keep your voice steady. “I didn’t realize…”

Felix nodded, his eyes soft with understanding. “Yeah, it’s new. But I think it’s a good thing. Chan’s been so focused on work and producing, and now he’s letting someone in. It’s nice to see him happy.”

You forced a smile, your heart sinking. “That’s… really good to hear. I’m happy for him, too.”

Felix gave you a sympathetic look. “If you want to talk or need anything, I’m here. You know we all are.”

You nodded, grateful for the kindness but feeling a profound sadness. “Thanks, Felix. I appreciate that.”

With a heavy heart, you turned and left the studio, the weight of Felix’s words settling over you. The lunch you’d brought now felt like a symbol of a hope that had been dashed. As you walked away, you tried to focus on the positive—on Chan’s happiness—but the realization that your feelings might never be reciprocated made the day feel heavier than it had before.

☄. *. ⋆

Although the two couldn't have been more apart, your feelings had just continued to grow. 

Winter had finally rolled around, bringing with it the warmth of the annual Christmas party Minho would host. The past few months had felt like a fever dream, with your feelings for Chan growing ever more consuming. The holidays, usually a time of cheer, now felt tinged with an undercurrent of longing.

As you walked into the party, the festive lights and laughter offered a brief distraction. You scanned the room until you spotted Chan across the crowded space. With a deep breath, you approached him, your heart racing with anticipation.

“Hiya, Channie! It’s been so long, hasn’t it?” you greeted, trying to keep your voice light despite the fluttering in your chest.

“Yeah, it has. My god, I’ve missed you,” he replied, pulling you into a warm hug. As you nestled against him, you felt your heart clench, overwhelmed by a mixture of joy and sadness.

“I’ve actually been meaning to tell you something,” you began, hesitating as you tried to steady your nerves.

“Me too, actually,” Chan said with a chuckle, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. “I hope it’s good news.”

“It always is,” you replied with a nervous laugh. “Well, tell me first.”

“No, you go first,” he insisted, a playful glint in his eye.

“Okay” you said with a soft smile. “Well I finally got tickets to the Wave to Earth concert in Seoul—that band I’ve been hooked on.”

Chan’s eyes widened in surprise and delight. “Oh, that sounds amazing! I’d love to. But… there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you too.”

You felt a slight tightening in your chest, hoping for a revelation that might mirror your own feelings. “What is it?”

“Well, I finally have a girlfriend,” Chan said, his voice softening with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. “Or, well, I’m planning to ask her soon. I’m really excited about it.”

The words hit you like a cold wave, and you struggled to maintain your smile. “Oh,” was all you could manage, your heart sinking as you tried to process the news.

“What were you going to say before I interrupted you?” Chan asked, his gaze gentle.

“Oh, um, just that you should go to the concert with me, I know much you love music” you replied, forcing enthusiasm into your voice despite the ache in your heart. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

Chan’s smile was warm but distant. “That sounds great. I’m looking forward to it too.”

As the conversation shifted and Chan’s attention drifted to others, you found yourself standing on the periphery, the failed attempt at asking him out now overshadowed by the quiet sting of rejection. The realization that Chan’s heart was set on someone else cast a shadow over the festive atmosphere, leaving you to navigate the mingling feelings of friendship and unspoken longing. The party’s warmth felt like a cruel contrast to the cold emptiness you felt inside.

fin.

part 2 | masterlist | requests

[kyovtani]

ASKS

hey babies! i’ve decided to answer the asks about back to life one and two like this because ive received so so so many and you guys blew me away so answering every single one of them is the least i can do to show you guys just how grateful i am. thank you so much for giving both parts SO much love, i love and appreciate you guys and the support you’re constantly sending my way with my whole entire heart <33

BYE THE FIC IS SO GOOD SO FAR. MY ANXIETY THO FROM THE ENDING, LIKE PLS KYO REALIZE THE MCS ANXIETY PLS DONT GO OUT WITH SORA PLEASE PLEASE HE SEEN HOW SHE DIDNT LOOK OKAY WHEN HE CAME IN PLEASE REALIZE HER ANXIETY PLEASE

– THANK YOU SO SO MUCH BABY !! this was the very first ask about back to life and it’s honestly the cutest thing ever! I hc Kyoutani to be rally understanding of things like anxiety and depression, generally mental health so that’s why it was easy for him to understand the reader’s situation and mindset! 

BACK TO LIFE!!!!!!!! MY HEART!!!!!?! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH SO GOOD!!!!! i was really excited when you started posting about it!! i can't wait for part 2, i wanna know how they fix this!

AAAH !! thank you so much for the love and support baby!!!! I really hope you enjoyed part 2 just as much, sending you lots of smooches MWAH

OH MY GOD THE KYO FIC IS AMAZING

THANK YOU SO MUCH BABY !!!!! 

OH MY GOD YOUR KYOUTANI FIC HAS ME ACTUALLY FROTHING I LOVE IT SM

IM NOT KIDDING WHEN I SAY THAT MY JAW ACTUALLY DROPPED AT THE LAST COUPLE PARAGRAPHS AS WELL I CANT WAIT FOR PART 2

AAAH YOU GUYS !!! this made me so happy !!! thank you so much and I hope part two met your expectations and you enjoyed the ending MWAH!! 

HOLY FUCK THAT KYOUTANI FIC WHEW IT WAS SO SO GOOD IM SO EXCITED FOR PART 2

thank you for the food <33

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE AND SUPPORT BABY !!!

YOUR KYOTANI FIC AHHHHHHH my heart can’t handle this

I AM SO GLAD YOU ENJOYED IT BABY !!!

OW THE END ON BACK TO LIFE HURTED THOUGH GDFGHJDFHJRY

Was overwhelmed by the hurty that I forgot to say how much I ADORE your characterization of Kyoutani. fdjkhgjkgdr

THANK YOU SO MUCH !! honestly- that means the world to me, probably the best compliment you can give me :((

Back to life was so good OMG 😳😳 HELLO??? You're amazing

Thank you so much, my love! it honestly is everything to me when you guys tell me such sweet things I love you so much MWAH!!

the new fic did not help me with my insecurities now i’m just frustrated and insecure. great writing tho.

honestly- same. when I wrote this, I lit indulgent every bit of my mind working into this fic and thats why it means so much to me ?? so youre not alone, my love; but thank you so much <33

The way I panicked at the end of the fic thinking there wasn’t gonna be more to it, holy shi that fox was so good I almost cried thinking they were just gonna end things like that 🥺🥺🥺🥺

I’d NEVER end a fic like that- I hate bad endings and cannot stand cliffhangers but the formatting didn't give me another choice im sorry for the heart attack baby kfhflashsj but am glad you liked it!

@au-roraaa said: ZADE I WAS NEVER A KYO FUCKER BUT I THINK YOUVE CONVERTED ME HOLY FUCKSJFJSJDJSN

THIS IS MY JOB AT THIS POINT I WANT YOU ALL TO TURN INTO KYOU FUCKERS KSSSOH 

UR THE BEST WRITER WTF?? WHEN DO U THINK PART TWO WOULD BE UP... and does kyoutani flirt with sora 😣💔

YOU GUYS- NOOO- pls my heart made a loop :(( I love you so much :(( thank you baby and I think now you know what he does with sora MWAH

@kawakuto said: hi hi zade!🤩 (ajdjs idk if you remember me but i moved main blogs and I was @/gukooky before LOL) THE KYOUTANI FIC ANDJWNS I DIDNT EXPECT THE END WAHHHH🥺🥺 it was so well written omg I loved it!! (wtf kyoutani, you said we were going slow what if I wasn’t ready to call u my boyfriend wtffff😔😔 pain.)

AAAAH OFC I DO REMMEBER !! hope youre doing well baby !!! and thank you SO much for your sweet words, I honestly appreciate them so much :((<33

pls I’m in love with your writing. You write kyoutani so well so now I’ll always be grabbing at any crumbs you send my way 🥵

thank you so so so much baby!!!! these kinda words always hit me right at the heart, I appreciate them so much and I love you sm much

bb i love ur kyoutani fic sm :(( ur rlly so talented <33 i look forward to pt 2 ^3^

thank you so much baby, sending a smooch your way mwah 

zade that kyoutani piece im in so much pain why would u do this to me 💔💔💔💔

believe me when I say It hurt me even more than you </3

I just finished reading part 2 and it waS SO GOODAJSFHJLFG you did amazing!! (n˘v˘•)¬

THANK YOU SO MUCH BABY !!!

Hi! New nonnie coming through :) First time I'm writing something because I'm such a nervous wreck but I just had to

THE FIC WAS SO GOOD THE VIBES ARE CHEFS KISS. IT WAS SO GOOD I LITERALLY DROOLED I CAN NOT GET OVER IT !

Mister kyotani pls rail me thanks 🐱

THANK YOU AAAH YOURE SO CUTE !!! I truly appreciate this with my whole entire heart so thank you so much baby, hope you have a good one mwah

Wait did he do anything with Sora?

nope!! they just went to the party together but in my mind he didn’t even hug her and she didn’t try anything else, too, simply bc she knew how in love he is with reader!!

YOUR MINDDDDD!! THE KYOU FIC WAS SOOOO GOOOD!! Omg i hope you do a part 3 😭😭

i have a Little sequel which is really really soft but I'd love to write some more for it! 

@soranihimawari said: Part 1 & 2 with kyoutani was amazing as always Zade! I really liked the ending. This was such a fun read. I was wondering who’s else would be sharing the apartment with Kyoutani. What made you choose tattoo artist Iwa & Oikawa? Those two made me chuckle with the way they came in like that. Hope you have a great day/evening/late night/etc.

✌🏼&💜

—sora—

aaah thank you so so much, baby!! I truly appreciate your sweet words, youre the cutest! regarding your question: You shares an apartment with Iwa, Oikawa and Yahaba (who also works at the tattoo studio!) and i don't know to be really honest- I just like the thought of these three being really good friends so after contemplating whether or not to go with iwaoi or matsuhana, I ended up going with those two dorks! hope you have a good one baby mwah!!

@sakusapetals said: PLEASEE I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH

AAAH THANK YOU SO SO MUCH BABY !!! I LOVE YOU SM 

How long did it take you to write the entire two parts? Like wow that’s alot👁👄👁 i adore long fics though

oooh- hm ?? tbh i don't really know ?? I can’t remember ?? I think it took me about a month or like three weeks since I did write it all in one go yk? it was the only WIP I worked on during that time and it felt SO relieving to publish it! 

AAAHHH the kyou fic was a masterpiece bb!!! ❤️❤️

thank you so so so much baby!!<33

U LITERLALT WRIYE KYOU THE BEST ABSOLUTE BEST. he’s so aggressive and demanding but he still is willing to show someone special his vulnerability. I LOVE READING STUFF ABOUT HIM FROM U

AAAAH thank you so much- you guys have no idea how much these kinda comments mean to me- I love you so MUCH MWAH 

I just read the first part of "back to life" an it had me speechless so many times, almost cried at the end, it's honestly so well written. I'm off to read part two. Have a nice day 🐰

sdoalfsla thank you so much baby! I hope you enjoyed both parts equally as much and thank you for all the love mwah!!<3

Hana is a baddie

SHE IS!! she’s literally the baddest bitch to ever exist ft. saeko ofc but nobody acknowledges it </3

@tonhwa said: I’m in love with the way you write kyoutani pls. Even your previous fics on your old account ( if you don’t mind me mentioning it ) are so fucking amazing. GOSH YOU CHARACTERIZE HIM SO WELL AND THE PLOT IS ALWAYS SO JUICY AND INTERESTING I CANT HELP BUT GO BACK AND READ IT. and then you release this fucking wonderful piece and I feel like it’s my birthday even though it’s already passed LOL ty ily have a wonderful day I’m sobbing tears of happiness

YOU GUYS PLEASE- the fact this made me tear up when I first read it- thank you SO much honestly. knowing you guys enjoy my characterization of my favorite character is honestly everything to me so thank you sm I love you baby have a good one!!<3

I’ve been on this app from high school, and now I’m a college grad. I have to say I’ve never sent a message to anyone I’ve followed. But that tattoo artist! Kyou fic, part 1 and 2 are 😩💕 *chefs kiss* you are one of my favorite writers I’ve ever followed since joining this app. You NEVER disappoint!

-💕 a very satisfied reader

thank you so much baby!! aaah this is honestly so so sweet :(( thank you for taking the time out of your day to send me such a sweet thing, I appreciate it and you so much mwah!!

i gotta say babe THANK YOU FOR THE KYOTANI CONTENT!! muAAAAHH💞💞

NOO THANK YOU GUYS FOR GIVING IT SO MUCH LOVE MWAH!!!

i love kyoutani and he obvs deserves his dick sucked 🤧🤧 but i catch him posting up with other girls I DONT CARE THE SITUATION he gonna catch these hands for a real one 👊🏼👆🏼🤜🏼🥊🥊 kidding 😐😐😐 he’d body me

pls the way this had me chuckling like crazy bc same sajlskjpw he can get mad all he want but he better stay his pretty ass where he is- by my side  😌

[wincore]

AGREEEE, WORKING OVER THE WEEKEND IS THE WORST esp since im in uni full time and i work 9-5 on the weekends which means... no breaks for me ever.. 🥲

MASSIVE CRUSH ON OIKAWA OMGGG I SUPPORT THIS!!!!! but i am unfortunately much older than 15 and still enamored by 2d men 😔 life’s rough like that HDJWKDJ YES ATSUMU CAUSES PROBLEMS ON PURPOSE.. HES THE WORST!! btw.. ive heard that the oikawa to atsumu stan pipeline is very real... so if u get to s4.. u may develop atsumu brain rot like me 👁_👁

OOO alright run on, extracurricular, vincenzo, true beauty, love alarm, & perfect crime. NOTED!! ive actually been meaning to watch extracurricular for a while now, it looks so interesting!! now that it has the wincore seal of approval i must watch 😤 OMGG SAKURADA DORI I SAW HIM IN ALICE IN BORDERLAND!! super good show but really gore heavy at some points 👁

ahh ok thank u for the reccs, ive been thinking about starting demon slayer too!! shoplifters sounds really interesting :oo crime??? i havent watched a full movie in a while so i will def check it out!! THESE R ALL GOING IN MY NOTES APP.

NEXT YEARRR omg it sounds far away but i know time passes so quickly nowadays so I WILL WISH U LUCK ONCE AGAIN 💛 i hope u update us when the time comes!!

UGHWHHD EVEN THIS SYNOPSIS IS MAKING ME MISS UR WRITING?!? I LOVE THE WAY U WORD IT... “given a choice to pretend, you find that jaehyun is the lesser of the two burdens to bear” AHHHHHHH omg “he’s in a relationship and doesn’t rlly care about the soulmate system” THIS IS ALWAYS SUCH A PAINFUL SCENARIO IN SOULMATE AUS PLSS!!! Wait is the soulmate of yn gonna be an oc/vague character or another member :O EITHER WAY... PAIN! THIS IS GETTING ME SO EXCITED AND U HAVENT EVEN MENTIONED ANYTHING ABOUT WHAT JAEHYUN’S LIKE IN THIS FIC YET

RUNWAY CHARACTER CAMEOOOS YESS I LOVE RUNWAY YN!!!! i actually reread it last night and ugh i was reminded how much i love yns personality... just the process of experiencing all tht self doubt with them!!! so real & makes u root for them :’)

“if jeno plays edward i need him to that apple scene like taemin did” WHHHHHWJDJJWJDBW THIS MADE ME CHOKE ON THE WATER I WAS DRINKING LMFAO

GODDDD THESE TROPE/MEMBER PAIRINGS, HARD AGREE HARD AGREE!!! HAECHAN AND RENJUN ARE E2L 100%!!!! i think bc the ppl in the bff2l category cant convincingly hate yn back LOL

“gets complimented on his lyricism often but like every song’s about you” STOPPPPP HES SO PERFDCT FOR THIS TROPE!!!!!

OMG I SEE EXACTLY WHAT U MEAN ABT SICHENG IN ROYALTY/CHAEBOL AUS... i think like u said it’s because of his poise & the way ppl are generally in awe of him but also bc of his reluctance to open up!! more reserved until he trusts u... funny and kind but sometimes perceived as aloof... those r some prince tendencies! “what are corporate businesses but modern day kingdoms” LMFAOOWJDJ SERIOUSLY THO

“mans really said i will not give you any onscreen idol personality to work with” HDJWJDJWJSJ LITERALLYYYY this is why i have trouble reading jaehyun fics sometimes bc sometimes they can feel “inaccurate” but its mostly just bc there’s no Standard Personality Stereotype to go off of. but a random & uncommon trope i think he’d pair well with is exes to lovers!! Yes im basically just a jaehyun + angst advocate.

“i think most of them would pair well with bff2l??” FACTTTTTTT and no im not just saying this bc its one of my favorite tropes.. heh... i think i told u this before?? but ur like the main reason i started enjoying e2l!!! i didnt like it before bc i love the PINING in bff2l but then i started reading ur works n was like OH SHIT! THERES LOADS OF PINING HERE TOO...

i think yangyang is not bff2l or e2l, he is in his own category which is Annoyer2Lover HDJWKDJ ex: troublemaker, wasted nights

OMGGGG I DID NOT EXPECT ROYALTY AU TO HAVE SUCH A LARGE LEAD IN THE SURVEY??? and cryptids is so low 😔😔 cmon guys, vampires r fun!!!

WE R LITERALLY WRITING ESSAYS TO EACH OTHER RN BUT I LOVE IT 🥺🥺 its a such a nice break to read ur response when im burnt out from studying!!

OMG IM GOING THROUGH #moonwrites AND IM LITERALLY AN IDIOTTTT IVE BEEN OFF TUMBLR FOR SO LONG I DIDNT REALIZE THAT ROMEO ROULETTE HAD A PREVIEW OUT????

“And I get what out of this?” “Me?” IM IN LOVE WITH THIS CHARACTERS PERSONALITY ALREADY LMFAOO

“—and when this whole game you’re playing is over, you’re going to say I rejected you.” ?!?!???? THE WAY JAEHYUN IS A LITTLE SHIT! THEIR PERSONALITIES ARE BOTH SO FUN PLSJWJDJEJ IM MORE EXCITED NOW!!

pls disregard the part in my last ask where i asked abt romeo roulette.... i had no idea all of the information i needed was sitting right in front of me 😔😔

- tata

WHAT 9 TO 5 ON EVERY WEEKEND???? the system has failed you this honestly feels like a villain origin story 😭 when does it get better???

ALSO let me answer the other asks separately for better readability lol we really out here writing essays GOOD THING i have practice writing but like. this is infinitely better to write 🥰

PLSSS SOMETIMES I WILL SEE AN EDIT/TIKTOK OF OIKAWA AND BE LIKE DAMN I REALLY NEED TO CATCH UP I MISS THIS MF also are you daring me to ruin my life for 2d men bc i will do it without hesitation. wait till i watch hq again and get that atsumu brainrot with you he seems annoying enough for me to like ^_^

AND YES PLS I WAS SO ABSORBED IN IT!! extracurricular was the most gripping show i’ve watched in a while like yes enough teen romance give me two unhinged teenagers doing crime 🤩 AND OMG??? THAT’S WHERE WE SAW HIM TOO and although niragi was literally vomit-inducing human trash, sakurada dori is like. a good actor. except i hated coffee&vanilla which starred him it was literally so cringe i couldn’t 😭 i blame the writers for that though. IM EXCITED FOR S2 OF ALICE IN BORDERLAND THO i really like horror (and i can tolerate gore if ive been desensitized enough) and like i read the manga too!!! the games were really interesting (although morbid).

😭😭 MY NOTES APP IS FULL OF RECS FROM FRIENDS ALL OF THEM HATE ME FOR NOT WATCHING THE SHOWS BUT LIKE. i binge 3 or 4 at a time and strike them off and then go 6 months without watching a single tv series hhh.

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! I SURE WILL UPDATE !!! it’s so exciting to think about grad school sometimes :33

AHHH IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE IT AND THE PREVIEW TOO SGSDJKDS there’s a few differences in the actual fic i think bc i changed up the language (and i dont remember what else bc i refuse to look at my writing) JAEHYUN RLLY IS A LITTLE SHIT he’ll be like hm yeah im pretty chill :) and then proceed to beat yn at her own game at times. (she wins mostly dw) the fact that i made her soulmate cha eunwoo like girl if i were you i’d crash their relationship 🥱 (jk) but like. jaehyun too is 🤩 despite being dry af

ASDKDSKDS YOU REREAD ALL (ALMOST) 19K WORDS ??? IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE THAT FIC SM AAAAHHH IM FEELING LIKE AN ACTUAL AUTHOR 🥰 i loved runway yn too they were like boss attitude with 20% anxiety.

LOOK JENO BETTER BE PULLING MOVES LIKE THAT TO IMPRESS THE GIRLS 😤 if he hits himself in the forehead with the apple, bonus points bc that was true comedy (as invented by taemin)

AND YES. LIKE I KNOW MARK HATED DONGHYUCK SO MUCH HE WANTED TO LEAVE SM BUT LIKE HE’S TOO NICE WITH EVERYONE ELSE 😭😭😭 i cannot picture him pissed off apart from that summer fight </3

thinking about dejun getting rejected by a girl he wrote a song for. rip brother.

IM GLAD YOU PUT THAT INTO WORDS BC THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT IT IS!!! he’s got all of these regal qualities but he’s still human ykyk so it makes for the most amiable person on earth 😌 i love this characterization of him!!

oof exes to lovers with jaehyun... i had a similar idea a while ago (with theme song sincerity is scary by the 1975) that i discarded bc i don’t think i’m cut out to write that 😭 (YET) so i will keep this is mind. u r so right about jaehyun feeling inaccurate bc it’s like he’s very mild in personality onscreen sometimes?? so him having strong personality traits makes me go 🤔🤔 that man is overreacting. (jkjk but like you get the idea)

WAIT RLLY OMG BC OF ME???? i would never enjoy e2l irl bc irl dudes are 🤢🤢 and if they annoy me i will end them. but in fiction the mutual pining and initial disgust at yourself for liking the other??? helllooo 🤩🤩🤩 especially if it’s in a romcom style <3 bff2l is also better in fiction bc if the relationship doesnt work out irl and the person become uncomfortable with me i will just get annoyed jskshdl

LMAO YOU ARE SO RIGHT ABOUT YANGYANG HE’S JUST THAT™ DUDE skgkhs he feels like someone fun to hang out with but he would annoy you the whole time. also he is cute 🥰

AND EXACTLY!!!! IM HAPPY FOR ROYALTY AUS BUT CMON. LOOK AT THOSE VAMPIRE TEETH. feel like media ruined vampires for people 😔 

THIS IS SUCH A NICE BREAK FROM STUDYING HONESTLY!!!! im like working on two semi-large projects AND studying course and out-of-course material simultaneously so my brain is a little fried. thank u for this 😘

[faunusrights]

OFFAL HUNT REMASTERED LIVEBLOG // CHAPTER 19

IN THIS EPISODE OF MURPHY IS SCREAMING, CONSTANTLY, TRAPPED IN THEIR PERFECT NIGHTMARE:

Glynda was saying: “I know we aren’t friends. I know we aren’t partners. I know you’re a criminal. But—I think I can trust you. I think I have to trust you, even if you’ve done awful things before.”

EVERYTHING GOES WRONG BUT LIKE SOMEHOW WORSE THAN EVER? LIKE A WHOLE NEW BRAND OF LOW. LIKE CINDER’S GOT A PICKAXE AND THE CENTRE OF THE PLANET CALLS FOR AID.

IT’S BEEN A WHILE HUH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but dw offal hunt, like the rising of the sun, the arrival of winter, and the eventual downfall of capitalism, always returns. so lets go.

(i just quickly reread chapter 18 liveblog to remember what happened and Ah Yes I Remember Now. The Suppressed Memories)

The place was emptier without Glynda. Quieter.

/gunshot oh we’re in danger right out of the gate huh? we got some yearning right out here? right now? how quickly the turn do tables.

Cinder appraised her work, holding the beige coat up to the light and squinting.

man i forgot. i FORGET. how much i just love cinder in this fic. sometimes she kinda zones to the back of my mind where she sits waiting for me to start thinking about her again, but now i remember that this cinder is Peaque. look at her GO, minding her own BUSINESS. im proud of her. does she know i love her.

It didn’t take long to don her new, fire-proofed clothes.

in another world, in a more comical plot, she used asbestos. it didnt go well.

The subtle warmth of the Dust teased tension from Cinder’s stiff muscles, even as she marvelled at the strangeness of her own bedroom’s space. It seemed bigger now than it had the last two nights.

h

She chose not to dwell on it.

h

i choose to dwell on it! ME!!!! I CHOOSE TO DWELL ON IT. HEY CINDER WHAT THIS GAY SHIT. hello. ma’am. can we look deeper into this. i, for one, would like to, and i, for one, think its of value to think abt this. that said, small segue

Quietly, Cinder murmured, “I didn’t freak out.”

THE FACT SHE SAYS IT ALOUD LIKE EM AND MERC CAN HEEEEEEAR HEEEEEEEER i am. INFATUATED with this family. cant wait for the 100k spinoff thats basically an elongated beach episode where they go to like. alton towers. or butlins. six flags??? thats a thing in america right??? anyway. beach episode. call me. (wink wink nudge nudge push push shove shove)

 We had to stop back in because Merc left his favorite binder, and it was 2 in the morning, so it was easier to crash here for the night than mess with the ship’s autopilot.

them,,, THEM!!!! mercury is just a son and childe. thast it. he canot change this. i love these kids so much i am SHAKING THE MONITOR RN!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAA

Stuck here in one of the homes they’d shared, Cinder missed them terribly. Missed the sound of their voices and the easy comfort of their presence. Finding the time to contact them had been difficult, between managing Glynda and Hati both, but Glynda was gone, and she’d sent Hati onwards to Atlas. She remembered her call with Emerald, before arriving in Umbraroot; she knew it had not soothed her or her fears.

im sorry was this chapter targeted at me, specifically, as a human being on planet earth? GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE THIS FAMILY!!!!!!!!! THIS WONKY OLD BANDAGED UP FAMILY UNIT!!!!!!!!!!!!! i thrive every time they are mentioned on the page. it is a blessing. my succulents grow stronger each time they show up.

“No,” Cinder argued softly, “I had to. Mercury, you deserve to hear it from me as well. I am sorry. And I am promising you: I’ll come back.”

For a long, heart-wrenching moment, he was completely quiet. It was good that Cinder was alone in the apartment; laying herself bare like this would be unbearable with an audience.

GODDDDDDDDDDD AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

i am OBSESSED WITH THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IM GOING TO BE THINKING ABOUT THIS UNTIL I D I E. of all thing the remaster does better than og, this is just. SPEEDING AHEAD. this whole CONFLICT this whole MESS just makes everything so much RICHER its like when u splash some wine in yr fancy food or stick some cinnamon on yr favourite desserts u dont NEED TO but it adds that lil SOMETHING,,, that little KICK that just ties the flavour profile together and in this case ofgughugguhu it just GIVES SO MUCH. im making SNOW ANGELS in the WORDS on the PAGE.

“Mercury. If I could prove it to you, I would. But you have to—trust me. For just a while longer.”

“It’s getting harder,” he said. He didn’t sound like he was lying just to hurt her. That wasn’t spite. That was honest anger. And it made her feel like dirt.

im less picking these for specific instances of like, things i want to say, but more just because bits of this r rly just so /chef kiss. cinder has these.... endearingly (take that whichever way u like) human qualities in OG to rly make u realise she had ties to add to her #Doubt but the remaster is just AMPING it up and u FEEL IT and ive never been more SYMPATHETIC to a round-faced sinnamon bun of assholery and fire id DIE for cinder fall and this is a fact PUT IT ON MY GRAVESTONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Is there anything you need?” What was this? Cinder could barely focus on her words. It felt like... “Anything? At all?”

“We’re fine.”

“Mercury, wait please—” She was losing him. “I think—”

“Just hurry up.”

The line went dead.

this place is not a place of honor.................. no highly esteemed deed is commemorated here........................ nothing valued is here................ IM DYING

Cinder began to type out her response, and that was when the nausea really kicked in. 

[...] 

She recognized this now.

Glynda.

stress stress stress stress STRESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

There shouldn’t be anybody. Cinder had done everything in her power to cut Glynda from people who would interfere. To isolate her. Make it easier to bring her to Atlas, to the frozen north, to her mother and the machine…

Cinder’s esophagus quivered; furiously, she shut her eyes and thought of nothing.

god cinder don’t remind me that you’re an asshole and dipshit and also a moron im trying to be NICE and CARE ABT YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! STOP REMINDING ME YOU’RE A PIECE OF SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

FOR FIVE MINUTES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The front door clicked open.

Cinder couldn’t have said how much time had passed, only that it had passed slowly. What she did know was that it was Glynda returning, the sensation of boils bursting wafting off her soul. It crawled over Cinder’s flesh. She curled in on herself.

There were mites under every nailbed. Salt in her weeping mouth.

offal hunt’s brilliant use of this horror aspect is something i have tried previously to emulate and here’s a fact, take it from me: that shit is HARD. offal hunt consistently able to whack those real nasty, really Disgusting vibes on the head EVERY TIME is a work of art. i mean, kc and diesel do not fuck around, and therefore i am NOT surprised, but it’s only when u try this shit yourself that you realise: this is hard! this is difficult! it’s a huge testament to how GOOD this fic is in every way. also this whole fucking body horror aspect is something i didnt know this fic needed, but it did, and here we are. 

Thickly: “Things were going okay. If you hadn’t gotten nasty, I might have smoothed things over. I could have fixed things with my son.”

with my son

with my son

with my son

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I CANT TAKE IT EVERY TIME ITS TOO MUCH FOR TO BEAR I CANNOT HANDLE IT I CANNOT STAND IT ITS LIKE BEING SHOT JUST DIRECTLY IN MY DICK

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

im like sweating rn

Glynda said, “I’m scared.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

I SAID IM SWEATING

Glynda asked, “Are you lying to me?”

And Cinder said, “What?”

“About me. About Witches. About Ozpin—” Cinder’s guts went sour. “—About anything. I need to know if I can trust you.”

I SAID I! AM! S W E A T I N G

“I know you’ve lied to people. Hurt people.”

Adrenaline and the image of her kids’ faces behind her eyes made a potent, sick cocktail. “—Not. Now.”

so lets like double back to when i said hey was this chapter written to target me specifically and as it turns out, yes. yes it was. yes it was and as MUCH AS I AM LIVING FOR THIS MOMENT THIS SWEET BUILDUP THE EXPLOSION AND THE CRATER IT ALL LEAVES BEHIND

I

AM

so this next bit is like. i cant really quote one section but as i was saying in Vague DMs, this whole bit feels like wading through mud. usually if you say something consumes energy to Read it’s in a Bad Way when yr bored but this is more like. you Feel cinder all over everything feels so sluggish and it’s like dragging your own corpse around as you try and leave and you’re TIRED and your LEGS HURT and you’re kinda thinking god what if i just fell face down for just a moment of my LIFE.

The putrid weight of Glynda’s soul filled the room until there was no space left for her.

it’s like being trapped in a sauna, like getting stuck in a humid waiting room. where do you GO. what do you DO. god this whole section is fantastic and offal hunt NEVER fails to fucking nail the Vibes but reading it is HARD. i literally keep having to stop and breathe like ive been holding my breath. jesus h christ.

a small intermission for a mood:

“Get fucked.”

back to regularly scheduled hell

Out of the bedroom. Down the hall. The walls were sweating with heat. She tasted smoke. 

i love that i just said how i feel like im trapped in a sauna and it turns out: thats because me and cinder both, baybee!!!! hahahaha help

Glynda’s soul chewed her to the marrow. “Move, Glynda.” 

cinder being hunted at the start of this fic: teehee! im running away! now im gonna getcha! heehee! arent i clever :) cinder being hunted now: this uh. this blows, actually,

Cinder’s pulse roared in her ears. Her hands twitched. She smelled Ochre Brown’s round face melting off. His wide smile shattered with each of his teeth, going black and popping like corn.

this chapter is probably my favourite so far for this blending of so many elements. i cant even begin to like. THINK STRAIGHT about how all of this is tying together. the lore. the THEMATICS. like i said this character rly is just Rich with what og lacked and oh is it RICH. im gonna read this chapter in future and see so much that i know ive already missed. holy shit.

“Ms. Fall,” she said. “The White Fang requires your presence immediately.”

NOT NOW

Cinder stood there looking at it for a moment. Her thoughts were slow. Copper-tinged. Something small and indulgent whispered to her through the blood-fog.

It was obvious enough what would happen if she got into this car. The driver would take her to a secluded place, where she would be ambushed by a squadron of battle-hungry White Fang grunts.

They’d try to take her down. And she was a killer, wasn’t she? Ochre Brown wailed in her ears with every thump of her runaway heart. Her hands itched for action; her teeth, for blood.

She’d burn them black.

never mind! you are already dead,

She thought about Glynda. About her saying that if there was trouble with the Fang, she wanted to come. That she would fight for Cinder.

She thought of Glynda’s question: What aren’t you telling me about Ochre Brown?

Yeah, fuck that.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!! WHAT A CLIFFHANGER!!!!!!!!!! WHAT A MOMENT!!!!!!!!!!!!! MORE MOMENTOUSLY: WHAT A CHAPTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

this is EASILY my favourite chapter so far. EASILY. everything about this was peak offal. the relationships. the dynamics. the dialogue. the vibes. the Grossness. the fighting. the EVERYTHING. this is some other level and its BITCHIN. PEAK. that said im now very tired. im going to have a cup of tea and Consider Things for a few hours. brb.

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

a most holy sin

i watched Bohemian Rhapsody and cried at least 12 times so of course i was (loosely) inspired by it and had to write an ineffable husbands fanfic. i definitely listened to a Best of Queen playlist while i wrote it, too. i hope you enjoy and please forgive historical and medical inaccuracies because im sure there are some. also for some reason the line break isn't working?? i'm going to try to add it again later.

(I know Gabriel does not technically outrank Aziraphale but for the sake of plot he's gonna be in charge of Earthly affairs.)

WARNING: There is usage of homophobic slurs at a point in this story. If you are sensitive to such, either be wary as you read or simply do not read this fic. Don't worry, you won't hurt my feelings if you keep scrolling.

~*~

"I'd like to be temporarily stationed in America."

Gabriel looked up from his desk, every inch of it covered in paperwork. Glasses that Aziraphale knew very well the archangel did not need slid down his nose. Gabriel pushed them back up. "Why?"

Succinct. As per usual. Aziraphale pretended that he was not twisting his ring anxiously around his pinky as he spoke. "Well, I do read American papers every so often, and I've been keeping tabs on a certain, er, an epidemic, of sorts, that is happening over there."

Gabriel removed the silver frames from his nose, folding them and placing them on his desk. "Right. The AIDS epidemic."

"Yes," Aziraphale murmured. "Yes, quite. I assure you that I don't intend to miracle up a cure for the disease. It's best to let humans work through that on their own, I assume. I simply wish to - to ease the pain of those in the final stages."

Gabriel was silent. Aziraphale began to wonder if he was pushing his luck with this request. He'd nearly been discovered with Crowley only two decades or so ago, not to mention his boss was not known for being the friendliest or the most sympathetic of angels -

"Yes."

Aziraphale blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said yes, you may go." Gabriel sighed, scrawling his signature on a document in glittering gold ink before shoving the paper away. "I have also been keeping up with information on the epidemic. Those victims could certainly use some angelic kindness right now, what with so many being rejected by their families even as they're on their deathbeds. Beelzebub undoubtedly has a special place in Hell for those sorts of nasty people, I'm sure."

"And we have a special place in Heaven for the victims?"

"Precisely." Gabriel returned his attention to the stack of papers in front of him. "You're dismissed, Aziraphale. Don't stay too long."

"Of course," Aziraphale breathed, nodding. He was almost unable to believe everything had worked out so well. "Thank you, Gabriel." Not wanting to overstay his visit and risk having the decision reversed, Aziraphale promptly left. He considered taking the back exit out, but it wasn't as if he was in a rush. He still had to pack, after all.

It was quite a shame he couldn't simply miracle himself to America. Airplanes were... Less than enjoyable, in Aziraphale's opinion. But miracles had to be preserved.

He didn't want to think about how many he might have to perform in the very near future.

~*~

America, circa 1990

Aziraphale had ditched his usual tartan suit for new tartan scrubs. He was posing as a nurse, working in a ward delegated specifically to victims of AIDS in the final stages. As much as it pained him, he refrained from miracling them back into health. God probably would not take too kindly to that, what with the circle of life and all, even considering Her infinite generosity. Instead, Aziraphale eased their pain as they passed to Heaven. If nothing else, they deserved to know that good things awaited them on the other side.

"Room 636, Nurse Fell," a woman called to Aziraphale as he walked down the hall. Her voice had the rounded edge of a faint Southern drawl. "He's got family with him right now, but they'll be out soon."

"Right. Thank you." He nodded at her as she passed. Aziraphale had memorized the layout of the hospital before he'd started "working" there - it helped him maximize his time with the patients. Not to mention he had to be back in Soho before the end of the year.

"This is your own fault, you know."

Aziraphale froze.

"You're the who grew up and decided to be a fucking fag, goddamnit!"

He recognized that tone. It was one he heard all too often in the AIDS ward.

"And now that choice is killing you. Just like it killed your little queer boyfriend."

Aziraphale resisted the urge to swear. Of course the voice was coming from room 636.

"Hope you're happy with yourself. Hope you're proud."

The man's words were laced with more venom than the world's deadliest snake could provide. Aziraphale reached for the door handle, only to find that it had been locked. Very much against hospital regulations, but also rather common in these situations.

"This is the devil's consequence. You know why they're calling it the 'gay plague'? Because only fags are getting it." The man sighed, an intensified frustration bleeding into his tone. "You just had to be a queer, didn't you? You had to be the family disappointment." His voice dropped, and he growled the lethal blow. "I can't believe I ever called you my son."

Aziraphale didn't care if Heaven reprimanded him. He snapped his fingers, unlocking the door and entering the room without a moment's hesitation. He straightened his back and stared down the father. "Sir, I am going to have to ask that you leave here immediately."

The man's lip curled in disgust. "A queer nurse? I should have known."

Aziraphale ignored the comment, standing his ground. "I must insist that you leave, or else I'll be forced to call security."

For a moment, Aziraphale was afraid the man wouldn't go. But after a long pause, he left in a furious silence.

Aziraphale rushed over to the patient's bed. He was young, in his late teens or early twenties. Still a boy, really. And that only made it all the more heartbreaking.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that." Aziraphale checked the IV in the boy's arm, making sure it remained connected. "You don't deserve to be treated like something is wrong with you."

"Maybe there is something wrong with me."

Sweat beaded the boy's forehead, and Aziraphale's heart ached a little more when he saw tearstains on his cheeks.

"Am I really going to Hell, nurse?" the boy whispered. "Was falling in love really a sin?" He closed his eyes, biting his lip in a clear attempt to keep himself from sobbing. "I loved him. I loved him so much. All I did was fall in love."

"My dear boy." Aziraphale pulled up a chair next to the hospital bed before sitting down. "Of course you aren't going to Hell. Believe me, falling in love is no sin."

"That's not what my father thinks." His voice was bitter. Much too bitter for someone who likely had just started university.

"Well, fathers don't know everything," Aziraphale replied. "Trust me, dear boy. There is nothing you have to fear in death."

The boy wiped tears from his eyes. "Yeah? How would you know?"

Aziraphale snapped his fingers. The Almighty really was not going to be pleased with him. So many miracles only a few minutes apart was sure to get him reprimanded. Or maybe it wouldn't. He never could tell what exactly She would approve or disapprove of.

The boy's eyes widened as he took in the sudden change of his surroundings. He tried to sit up, but Aziraphale stopped him.

"Careful, now. I'm simply giving you a peek into what awaits you."

The boy shook his head in disbelief. "Is this - is this Heaven?"

"Indeed." A part of it, at least. A lovely little spot of paradise that was reminiscent of Eden. Many enjoyed it when they first ascended to Heaven. A place to get acclimated.

The boy stared at Aziraphale. "You're an angel."

Aziraphale's wings fluttered, as if responding to the query. "Yes, I am. I requested to be stationed in America to help ease the pain of those suffering from AIDS. People in the... Final stages of the disease."

The boy nodded. A faint smile appeared on his lips. "That means I'm dying, then."

Young people truly were getting more perceptive. "I'm afraid so, my dear." Aziraphale snapped his fingers, and the vision of Heaven dissipated. Regretfully, his wings went, too.

The boy sighed, leaning back more deeply into the hospital bed's pillow. "Would you believe me if I told you that I'm going to miss my father?"

Aziraphale didn't respond. He knew an answer wasn't expected.

"I'm going to miss him. Even if -" The boy's voice cracked. "Even if he hates me, he was the only family I had. I forgive him, and - and I want God to forgive him, too."

"She will," Aziraphale murmured, his voice so low only he could hear it. "She always does."

The boy's heart rate was dropping. Aziraphale resisted every instinct in his body to save him. He could not interfere. It was not his responsibility to influence Earthly life and death.

"At least I'll get to see Miles again," the boy breathed. Tears were trickling down his face. "It's been a long year without him."

He closed his eyes.

The machine flatlined.

Aziraphale could sense the boy's spirit leaving his body. He returned the chair to the side of the room, then slid the curtain shut around the bed.

"I'm sorry, angel."

Aziraphale didn't know when he'd started crying. "I can't imagine even your lot could be responsible for this, Crowley."

There was a pause. "AIDS itself is one of the final gifts of Pestilence unto Earth, despite that they retired eons ago." Footsteps echoed in the quiet room, moving closer to Aziraphale. "But only humans could be so cruel to one another."

"I know," Aziraphale whispered. "And I think that's the worst part of all." He didn't even blink as Crowley stepped in front of him, brushing away his tears with his thumb.

"There's nothing you can do, angel," Crowley murmured. "You know that."

Aziraphale did know that. He hated it, but he knew it all too well. "I just - I just don't understand. All they do is fall in love, Crowley! What could have wrong in human history where they started to believe that love was sinful?"

Aziraphale expected a witty comment in response. A dry quip about Catholics, or the Shaker community. He certainly had not prepared himself for a serious answer.

"When did Heaven and Hell start believing it?"

Crowley's sunglasses slid down his nose. He took them off, tucking them into his jacket. They stared at each other, eye to eye.

"I've been - I've been wondering that myself," Aziraphale stammered. His voice was hushed. "But it's not my place to question it."

Crowley shrugged. "The Almighty has been more forgiving as of late. Since it's you, She just might allow it."

"I - I couldn't possibly."

"I know, angel." He sighed. "I know."

Neither spoke after that. But neither made a move to walk away.

Aziraphale knew he had to leave. He had to report the death of the young man so the room could be available for other patients. But he couldn't bring himself to step away from Crowley.

The stood only inches apart. Aziraphale wasn't certain whether he'd reached for Crowley's hand or if the demon had grabbed his, but their fingers were intertwined and Aziraphale knew damn well he didn't want to let go.

"How did you find me?" he finally asked. "I don't recall telling you I was leaving Soho. Or where I was going." In fact, they hadn't spoken since 1967. The night in the Bentley.

Crowley shrugged. In a rare moment of tenderness, his thumb gently brushed over Aziraphale's knuckles. "The city feels different when you're not there."

"O-Oh. I see." Aziraphale found his gaze drifting down from Crowley's eyes to his lips. He didn't fail to notice that Crowley had lessened the distance between them even further.

"Is love a sin, angel?" Crowley whispered. His free hand moved to cup Aziraphale's cheek. "Because if so, it must be the holiest sin there is."

Aziraphale would have laughed had the tension between them not been almost suffocating. "Well, my dear, I really don't think there's such thing as a 'holy' sin -"

He was cut off as Crowley captured his mouth with his. Aziraphale found himself melting into the kiss, pulling the demon towards him. Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale's waist, and Aziraphale placed his arms around Crowley's neck.

He shouldn't be doing this. He didn't know why he shouldn't be, because every atom in his body was telling him that this was right, that this was love, that Crowley was all he needed -

But he couldn't.

Aziraphale pulled away, certain that regret was written all over his face. He couldn't bring himself to look Crowley in the eyes. "I'm sorry. You deserve - you deserve better than me."

Crowley laughed. It was harsh. Bitter. "I'm a demon, angel. I don't 'deserve' anything. It's part of the job description. In the fine print. Non-negotiable. You know that." He yanked his sunglasses out of his pocket and shoved them onto his face.

"No." Aziraphale's voice refused to move above a whisper. "You deserve everything, my dear. Anything you want. The whole world."

"I don't want the whole damn world. I only want you."

Aziraphale forced himself to look at Crowley. The demon's expression was unreadable behind the black lenses. "I can't, Crowley. Not now. Not yet."

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "'Yet'?"

Aziraphale nodded. "One day, I'll - I'll be ready. To go faster. As fast as you. I swear it. Just - Just not today." And he meant it. More than anything he'd ever said. "Will you... Wait for me?"

A small smile appeared on Crowley's lips. It was a rare sight, but one of Aziraphale's favorites.

"For you, angel? Always."

Aziraphale blinked, and the demon was gone. He didn't know when they'd see each other again. He didn't know what the future would hold for them, either. But when Crowley had left, he'd taken all of Aziraphale's tears with him. As he so often did.

Perhaps his demon had a point.

If love was a sin, it truly was a holy one.

Maybe even one worth Falling for.

~*~

im a mess, y'all. i love these two more than i love myself. i hope you enjoyed! feel free to send me prompt requests for them or for ineffable bureaucracy because both are such good pairings.

[thelastpilot]

Do you have any tips for writing the start of a fic? And I dont mean literally starting writing them, I mean HOW you start them. Ive got the habit to start them with a out of context diolouge, like as if the reader walked in at the start or the middle of a conversation. But this really only works well sometimes, but I cant figure out how to start a fic naturally without it sounding terrible or awkward. Especially ones intended to be multi chaptered.

I got another ask just like this several years ago I believe. In the answer I covered the struggle to begin, as well as several examples of HOW to start a story. So i’m going to copy and paste it here! If you’d like a whole slew of advice covering varying topics such as this please check out my #writing advice tag. 

---

“My mom has always said that a moving boat is easier to push. Getting it going from a dead stop is nearly impossible and super discouraging, but building up any kind of momentum at all is easier to capitalize on. So when you receive advice that says “Just start” im sure it sounds dumb, but write ANYTHING. Experiment with traditional starting styles you see in books all the time if you dont have the inspiration at the second to make your own.

There is the hard start- an example being

“The alley way was still, holding only distant echoes of the city it inhabited. There was a space of a moment on one, lazy, stifling, creeping summer night where nothing happened at all. And then all at once, the silence did not shatter.

It exploded.

A man flung into the alleyway, slamming hard against the dingy wall and crashing to the floor, his momentum carrying him back into an unsteady run as his vision swirled and blotted-”

and so on. Its the BOOM BAM kind of beginning, right into the shit! Right into the fire! Holy crap! Where is this?! Who is this!? What did he do?? Where is he going?? ((notice how i used formatting to add to the big PUNCH, a beloved tactic of mine))

There is the ‘establishing shot’ beginning. Like how in movies you see the picture of the outside of the house before you see the inside of a room and then finally you see the character in a chair or whatever. It establishes the place, the space, and the person. This is also a way to start. Describe the house and the hill and the weather and the time. Then the living room, the decorations, the disheveled stack of papers on the coffee table. Then the woman, sitting with her legs crossed. Now tell us how she fits into the room, give her context in this space ((Always remember to connect a character to the environment and clue the reader in on the context you already know))

There is the ‘Just tuning in’ beginning. Where the story begins already part way through an event or a conversation. It is typical to heavily rely on body language and staging to help the reader figure out everything that they ‘missed’ and adds intrigue and speculation to your story right off the bat.

There is also the ‘Just missed it’ beginning, where it starts right AFTER a whole bunch of stuff went down and the story moves through the aftermath, which in turn gives context to the situation just passed. This is common is war stories, where it begins in the shambles of a home after an air raid and what the family must now do to survive.

Thing to Remember!

The reader doesnt know everything, you do. Filling in the difference is where a whole lot of intrigue can come from, and setting that up with a good start is always possible!

Tip!

Remember, every movie and tv show is just a story told with pictures instead of words. Pay attention to how movies and episodes of shows begin when you watch them next! I am sure you will see the same things i detailed here as well as a few other things! The Establishing shot, the Hard Start, the Just Missed It, you will see all of these and more in films, so watch a few for inspiration. Pay attention to if they start with some information and events already passed ((Spirited Away: starts in a car filled with moving boxes. Before they even speak you know this family is somewhere new they have no experience with because they are moving in from elsewhere)). Very Very few stories start from the ‘true’ beginning, so decide whats already happened in your timeline and go from there if anything at all”

---

These are just a few examples of how to begin a story, the establishing shot being the most common and versatile. Since every establishing shot is so different, it never really gets stale. Use it wisely, but experiment with some of the other styles I mentioned! I know I gave some very actiony examples, but all of these can apply to Slice-of-Life style stories as well, its all about tone! Decide what the timeline is and where you are at in the unraveling of things, and then fall alongside wherever you’re at. The tip i gave is something I firmly believe in! Every videogame, movie and television show has to begin, and all of them do it different. Watch the first ten minutes of your favorite movie and try and identify how it did it. Was it a panning shot of an apartment building, before the camera cuts inside to a dimly lit room with a man? did the camera then cut in to show him holding something, before finally closing in on the object? This is an example of Establishing shot! The Place, the space, and the person. 

If you have time on your hands, try and write down the first five minutes of your favorite movie. Write in the details the viewer sees with every camera pan and zoom in, Draw the readers attention in the same way the camera does, a book is just a movie you have to think about a little. 

[lucacangettathisass]

how the light gets in (ch. 8)

SUMMARY: After your home is ransacked by a group of strange men, you and your cousin are taken in by a group of outlaws. And that’s when the trouble really starts.

PAIRINGS: John Marston x Fem!Reader, Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE, SIX, SEVEN

TAGGING: @mountainhymn if you would like to be added to the tag list just lmk!

NOTES: so sorry for the slow update! ive been doing some full on hours at work (my manager literally told me that im doing full time hours despite being part time lmao rip) so that’s been leaving me a little drained lmao but hey at least we got there!

more mentions of low self esteem, those are gonna be a lot more prevalent from here on out actually.

on another note, i’ve been wondering if i should rewrite this as an oc fic rather than a reader one. thoughts? i might not even do it, but im curious to hear what you guys think.

anyways, hope you all enjoy! and dont forget, likes are nice but reblogs are what motivate creators the most!

p.s. pls check out waking up slow by mountainhymn!!!! it is so wonderful im still crying

“Well, it really all started with my momma.” You felt yourself begin to fidget and made an effort to stand completely still. “She got a job working for a wealthy Russian widow, Mrs Zamolodchikova.”

Mr Morgan let out a low whistle. “Now that’s a name.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “A lot of Russian names are like that. As I was saying, she hired my momma to be a maid when I was still very young. Mrs Zamolodchikova treated us very well, we even lived in a little cottage she had on her land.”

Despite all the years that had passed, you still thought of that cottage fondly. It had been small and not impressive by any means, but it had been your home for most of your childhood. You had a lot of good memories of it.

“I...I lost my momma when I was seven.” Even now, twelve years later, it hurt to say. Your mother had been your whole world, everything began and ended with her, and it had never once occurred to you when you were a child, that you would one day have to face the world without her. She loved you too much to do that to you. And then it happened anyway.

You had never experienced a heart break like it before, or since.

“I’m very sorry to hear that.” Mr Matthews said gently.

“It’s alright.” You assured him, trying to speak around the lump that always formed in your throat whenever you thought about losing your mother. “She had been ill for as long as I could remember, it was only a matter of time.”

“I imagine your aunt and uncle took you in?”

“They wanted to, but Mrs Zamolodchikova stepped in. She said that she saw it as her Christian duty to take me in as a ward, and that’s what I became.” It had stunned you at the time to learn that Mrs Zamolodchikova cared for you that much. You would always be grateful for her kindness, it had changed your life. “She had no children of her own, so I think she wanted me to fill that gap.”

“That was very kind of her.” Mr Matthews sounded surprised, and you supposed that it made sense. You couldn’t imagine that he had come across many people willing to take in the child of an employee, particularly among the rich. You certainly had never seen such a thing in your time among them.

You nodded in agreement. “She taught me etiquette and how to behave in upper class circles, and as I got older I became her companion. That was how I met Mr Cornwall.”

A spark appeared in Mr Van Der Linde’s eyes, and you knew that you really had his full interest now. “How did that come about?”

“He was looking for investors in his business, he was just starting out you see, and he needed some capital.”

“So he went to Mrs Zamolodchikova?” Mr Van Der Linde asked. “She must’ve been rather rich.”

“Exceedingly so.” You said. “Her family is very old Russian money, and when she came to America with her husband, her wealth only grew, even after he died. I imagine Mr Cornwall thought that if he could convince her to invest, he would have an easy time of building his empire.”

“Did he?” Mr Van Der Linde’s eyes sparkled with a kind of devious curiosity, the kind most often found in children. “Convince her to invest that is.”

“I’m afraid not. Mrs Zamolodchikova found him rather...disagreeable.” A part of you still cringed on the inside just thinking about that meeting. It had started off well, and Mr Cornwall had certainly been polite enough, but once his true character came out, it all started to go downhill rather rapidly.

“In what way?”

You hesitated slightly. “Well, I mean, one doesn’t wish to disparage others when they don’t have the opportunity to defend themselves.”

A chuckle came from Mr Van Der Linde, and you even saw a corner of Mr Morgan’s mouth twitch.

“We just want your honest opinion, that’s all.” Mr Matthews assured you. “No need to be disparaging.”

You paused, trying to think of the right way to phrase it. “Mr Cornwall...well, Mrs Zamolodchikova and I found him to be rather...brusque and arrogant. When Mrs Zamolodchikova turned down his request, he got rather upset and he seemed to take it as a personal affront.”

“She must’ve grown to regret that.” Mr Van Der Linde mused.

“Not at all. Mrs Zamolodchikova was happy for him of course, but she was also happy she rejected him. She said she couldn’t imagine being in business with someone so...tasteless.”

“Tasteless in what way?” Mr Matthews asked.

“Well he was...very new money.” When you saw the looks of confusion on the mens’ faces, you tried to think of a better way to phrase it. “He was something of a show off, and a little gaudy. He wore a lot of gold, I imagine to try and impress, but it came off as vain and rather insecure. Mrs Zamolodchikova was very critical of that kind of thing, and when she saw how self aggrandizing he became after his success, she grew to dislike him even more.”

Mr Van Der Linde nodded slowly, and you could almost see the wheels turning in his head. “It sounds like you’ve lead a rather interesting life.”

“I suppose you could say that.” Your eyes roamed over the two older men again. “I imagine that wasn’t the kind of information you wanted, my apologies Mr Van Der Linde.”

Despite your fears, the black haired man smiled and waved a hand. “It’s fine Miss [Last name]. I was just curious, that’s all. Javier, why don’t you walk her back to where she’s staying?”

“Sure thing boss.”

You turned to leave with Mr Escuella, but you hesitated just as he put a hand on the door knob. “Wait.” All eyes were back on you, and you felt yourself flush, but you felt that you needed to get this out. “I just-I just wanted to add that Mr Cornwall is a very powerful man, and in my opinion, and in the opinion of mutual acquaintances that he and I share, he is lead more by pride and ego than wisdom. He doesn’t take insults lightly and can be rather harsh.” You were very careful and deliberate with your words, not wanting to seem like you knew better, but still wanting to convey your feelings of apprehension.

Mr Van Der Linde raised an eyebrow, and you got the feeling that he understood what you were trying to say. “Duly noted Miss.”

You nodded, and turned back to Mr Escuella, this time actually following him outside.

“You must’ve lived a pretty good life for a while.”

You shrugged and felt yourself blush heavily. “I suppose.” It always somewhat embarrassed you, knowing how different your life had been from other people, especially those who were born into the same class as yourself. “I honestly just think I got lucky.” You looked down at your feet. “Don’t feel so lucky now though.”

A heavy silence hung between you two, and you had to bite the inside of your cheeks to stop yourself from crying.

“Sorry.” You said softly. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear about my woes.”

“It’s ok.” Mr Escuella assured you, his voice kind again. “Considering everything you’ve been through, I’d say you have a right to let your feelings out.”

You looked at Mr Escuella in surprise. You hadn’t really thought about it like that. “You’re very kind.” You said sincerely. “Sadie might not think so but I certainly do.”

That brought a bright smile to Mr Escuella’s face, which made you smile in turn. You always enjoyed making people smile, it made you feel good, and you felt that it proved that you were useful and worth something for once.

“You’re a sweet kid.” Mr Escuella’s eyes were shining, although you couldn’t hazard a guess as to why. “Don’t let anyone beat that out of you, ok?”

“I-Ok.” You weren’t sure how else you should respond, being so unused to compliments from strangers. You watched as he held the door to the house with the other women open. “Are you not coming in?”

“Nah.” He smiled. “You stay warm ok?”

“Of course, and you as well Mr Escuella.” You went inside, and no sooner was the door closed that you were practically swarmed by Miss Jones, Miss Gaskill, and Miss Jackson.

“What did they want?”

“You weren’t gone for very long, did everything go alright?”

“Are you allowed to say?”

You felt yourself flush as you tried to keep track of who was asking which question. “It was nothing special.” You said. “They just wanted to know how I knew Mr Cornwall.”

Of course they all also wanted to know, and so you told them what you had told Mr Van Der Linde, Mr Matthews, Mr Morgan, and Mr Escuella-omitting your warning at the end.

Much like the men, they were stunned to hear your story.

“So you grew up pretty well to do.” Miss Jones said, in a tone that sounded impressed and envious.

“I-Well, yes, I suppose.” The embarrassment from earlier had returned. “I was extremely privileged.”

“What was it like?” Miss Gaskill asked, sounding wistful. “Being in that world?”

You paused, trying to think of a good way to describe it.

“When I was a little girl, it was dazzling.” You confessed. “All those men and women in their finery...it looked like an entirely different world. Like a fairy tale.”

“Oh yeah?” Miss Jackson raised a brow. “Meet any prince charmings?”

You laughed. “I met some well to do gentlemen if that’s what you mean.”

“I think she means suitors.” Miss Gaskill said with a giggle, and an eager look on her face. “Well, did you?”

“Oh!” A scorching heat unlike any of the others from before overcame you, and you felt your throat dry up. “I-Well-no.” You stammered, looking askance out of embarrassment.

“Really?”

You looked up and saw Miss Roberts looking at you with surprise. “You mean none of them tried to…” She trailed off, leaving you to fill in the blank.

“Not at all.” You said, your flush worsening. “After all, I was just a maid’s daughter.”

And therein lies the rub.

No matter how much you learned or how you dressed or how you behaved, everyone knew that you were just the daughter of a maid who Mrs Zamolodchikova had taken pity on. Most of them had been polite enough, but that boundary had always been there, and always would be. You had grown accustomed to it, the way one would grow accustomed to a permanent limp. And it left you with what you imagined would be the same level of alienation. It was one of the many unfortunate side effects of being born as yourself, and one you had learned how to deal and navigate the world with.

But it would always be a fairy tale to you. Beautiful, grand, never within your reach no matter how well you knew it. And you would always be that little girl that chased after it with every breath in her chest.

[azaraspirit]

Transfusion: CH3

ch3 is here!!!! i hope you all enjoy it!!! im so excited because this is the first fic i have written more than two chapters for!!!

Ch1 Ch2

summary: Is Peter a perfect match for y/n’s blood transfusion?

warnings: a panic attack, mentions of blood, tooth rotting fluff!!!

tagging: @thollandthot @the-southernbelle @blissfulparker @osterfield-holland-andcompany @angelic-holland @angelsparkers @angelhaz11 @foreverstuckwritingandimagining @peteparkrrs @peterpxrxer @peppermintpete @peterplanet @thollandss @worldoftom @gyllenhaalstories if i forgot someone im sorry!!!

You were nervous. Once the avengers left, your eyes wandered around at the gifts and they settled on the flowers Steve have given you. It just hit you that this was real. Like what if something goes wrong? A million scenarios ran through your head like the fast forward setting on a tv, your head throbbing. Sometimes you hated being as smart as you were and these were one of those times. You had a bad habit of overthinking and it easily overwhelmed you.

Panic started to set in, the monitor beeping faster and louder to match your heartbeat. The sound only aggravated you and all that you wanted was to get out of that room and stop beeping. You hastily ripped off the small tubes that were attached to your body. You threw the scratchy blanket aside and swung your legs over the bed. The floor was freezing but you didn’t care. Your head throbbed and the pain screamed at you to stop but it was worth it if that meant getting out of here. You pushed the doors open with your side. Your head was spinning, your back throbbing with pain but you just had to get out. You had to. When panic surged it made the room feel ten times smaller than it was.

You managed get barely two feet away from the door, before stopping to catch your breath. It felt like you were on a boat, your body swaying.

“Y/n! What are you doing?!” Peter’s voice was the last thing you heard before passing out.

***

“What happened?” Bruce bellowed, seeing Peter holding his unconscious daughter. If Peter didn’t have his arms full he might have ran in fear.

“I don’t know!” Peter cried. “I just sensed she was in trouble and came rushing up here to find her running out of her room.” He was crouched on the floor, holding you in his arms. He brushed the hair from your face, his brown eyes full of worry, tears threatening to fall.

Bruce knelt down, gently stroking his daughter’s cheek. He felt your forehead, your skin warm and clammy. “I think she had a panic attack.” he explained.

Peter looked up at him. “What?”

“She gets them sometimes. Just don’t tell her I told you. No one really knows about it except me and Nat.”

Peter looked back at you. “Why?”

Bruce shook his head. “I don’t really know, Peter.” He sighed. “As smart as I am, I can’t even figure that out.” He chuckled to himself, feeling embarrassed.

“S’not your fault, Mr. Banner.” Peter assured him.

A loud crash of plates averted their attention. Bruce looked up to see his wife, Nat standing there in shock, a shattered plate with food at her feet. “Bruce! What happened?” She ran over to them, gently touching her daughter’s hair, seeing if she was hurt.

“We just found her out here,” Bruce said,his voice full of sadness. “Peter caught her just as she passed out.”

Nat looked over at Peter then back to you. She kissed your forehead. “Let’s get her back into bed.”

Peter scooped you up in his arms and carried you back to the hospital bed. Nat held your hand, Peter wishing it was his instead. Bruce went into work to reattach the tubes to your body. He gently tucked them back under your nostrils, taping some wires to your chest and an IV to your wrist. When he was finished, he listened to your heart rate with his stethoscope and grabbed his clipboard, writing stuff down.

“I don’t think she should be left alone.” Nat spoke up. “Not after what just happened.”

Her eyes locked with Bruce’s and he nodded. “I agree. Someone should always be here with her.”

“I’ll stay.” Peter offered.

They both looked at him, surprised by his offer.

“I mean, if that’s okay.”

“I think it’d be fine.” Nat smiled. “I’ll go clean up that mess and make her something to eat when she wakes up.” She looked at you with worry one more time. She stood up, gently padding on Peter’s shoulder before leaving.

“I’ll be right back.” Bruce spoke, Peter nodding.

“Nat.”

She turned around, hearing her husband call her name.

Bruce wasn’t the most affectionate type but after what happened, he let his emotions get the better of him and he embraced his wife, his head buried in the crook of her neck. Nat froze for just a second before hugging back. “It’s okay, Bruce. She’ll be alright. I trust Peter.”

He pulled back, eyes glassy. Nat gently kissed him on the lips to calm him down. “She’ll be alright, Bruce. She’s too stubborn to stay bed ridden for long.” she chuckled.

Bruce smirked just a bit. “Yeah she got that from you.”

“Hey.” Nat scolded playfully. Her eyes darted to the doors, getting a glimpse of Peter holding your hand. “The blood test?” she whispered.

“Still waiting on the results.” Bruce spoke. “But I have a feeling he’s a match. He’s on file now.”

“So she had a panic attack?” she asked.

“I think that’s what happened.” Bruce said. “When were in the lab, he just left and that’s when we found her.”

Nat sighed.

“I told him. About her panic attacks.”

“Bruce.” Nat scolded.

“I felt that he needed to know.” he said.

“She won’t be happy when she finds out.”

“I know...but...I just have a feeling he won’t be going anywhere any time soon.”

The corner of Nat’s mouth tilted upward in a smirk. “I think that too. I like him.”

“He’s not so bad. And he’s actually pretty smart. Not as smart as me but-” Bruce shrugged.

Nat rolled her eyes. “I’m going to make our daughter something to eat. Since I ruined the last one…”

“I’ll go check on the results.” Bruce kissed his wife before going back in the room.

“How’s she doing?” he asked Peter.

“Okay, I think. She seems calmer.”

“I’m gonna check on the results, I’ll be back.”

Peter nodded and focused back on you. He squeezed your hand, letting you know that you weren’t alone. He was lost in thought, wondering why he sensed you were in danger. Normally his spidey senses only applied to himself, not another person let alone someone as far away as you were from him. But when he was in that lab with your father, he just knew something was wrong. The hairs on his neck and arms stood on end, panic surged through him, probably the same panic you felt realizing you were by yourself. Without a second thought, Peter bolted from the labs and ran over to you. When he saw you there just outside the doors, barefoot and scared, he nearly had a heart attack. You resembled a stunned deer in the headlights of a car about to get hit. Your father was yelling at him from behind but he didn’t care. He had no idea you were in danger. You were so delirious when he caught you, muttering. He caught his name but that was it.

A lovely warmth caught your attention. It almost felt standing in the light of the sun. Your tired, heavy eyes fluttered open. The morphine that was in your veins kept you calm as you realized you were back in the hospital bed but this time you had a friend. Your eyes focused on a figure that was curled up in the chair next to you. It was Peter. His hand was on top of yours as he slept, snoring just a bit. You chuckled, never hearing him snore before. It was cute. He was cute.

“Hey, sleepy head.” you spoke, shocked at how dry your voice sounded. You coughed from speaking, Peter stirring awake.

“Y/n.” His voice speaking your name made your heart flutter. “You’re awake.”

“And thirsty.” you croaked.

Peter leaned over to grab a cup of water from the bedside table and held the straw up to your lips. You sipped it gratefully, every last drop. “I’ll get you some more.”

You watched as he refilled your glass for you.

“I should let your dad know you’re awake. He was really worried about you.” Peter spoke when you were finished.

“I don’t want you to go.” Your voice was better but still weak.

Peter smiled, reaching for your hand again, feeling the familiar warmth that awoke you earlier. “I’ll be just a second, I promise.”

You frowned as he stepped out of the room. If it weren’t for the morphine you probably would have panicked again. But he came back just as he promised, your father behind him.

“Y/n!” Bruce rushed over to you, giving you the best hug he could without hurting you.

“Dad.”

“I was worried sick.” Bruce said.

“I’m sorry. I just got really scared.” you whimpered, on the brink of tears.

“Shhhh, it’s okay sweetheart.” Bruce gently stroked your hair, something he always did to calm you down. “I have good news.”

“You do?” you asked.

Bruce smiled at the both of you. “He’s a match.”

Peter’s eyes widened as well as yours. “Y-you mean-” Peter stuttered.

Bruce nodded. “We can do the blood transfusion. You both have the same blood type.”

Peter sighed in relief, wanting to cry. The breath he was holding this entire time was finally released. He feared maybe he wouldn’t be a match.

“Thank god.” Peter said, wiping his glassy eyes.

You were just as relieved. You were going to get better and it was all thanks to Peter.

***

Your father began to prep you for the procedure. “It might take a few hours, love.” he informed you and you nodded. It was just you, your father and Peter in the infirmary. You didn’t want anyone else there to make you more nervous. It only made the room feel smaller.

“S’okay, you got this.” Peter said to you as he held your hand.

You nodded, giving him a small smile.

“Okay, everything seems to be in order. Just gonna take time.” Bruce gently patted your forearm and kissed your forehead.

Peter smiled, admiring the cute scene.

“You want me to stay, sweetheart?” Bruce asked, gently cupping your cheek.

You glanced over at Peter, slightly blushing. “I think we’ll be okay by ourselves.” you said.

“Okay, y/n. But I’ll be nearby if you change your mind.”

You nodded and Bruce gave you one last kiss on the forehead before leaving.

“He really cares about you.” Peter spoke once Bruce left.

“Yeah, he does. I love him more than anything.” you said. You paused before adding, “What’s your father like?”

Peter’s brown eyes fell to the floor, making you realize you brought up a touchy subject.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean-” you began.

“It’s fine.” Peter interrupted. “Both my parents have died. I live with my Aunt may now.”

“Peter, I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” you told him.

He smiled just a bit. “It’s okay. I was little when it happened so I don’t remember them much. I’m just happy that you have your parents still and they care about you so much.”

His kind words made you smile. His hand was still on yours and he squeezed again, knowing it was okay.

You haven’t known Peter for long but this was the perfect opportunity to get to know him better, which is kinda why you didn’t want your father or anyone else in the room. You glanced down at your hands seeing he was gently stroking yours with his thumb. Heat went up to your cheeks.

“Yeah, they’re great. My father and I even have our own made up language.” you smiled.

Peter looked up at you, intrigued. “Secret language?”

You giggled, feeling silly. “We made it up when I was ten.”

“You’re cute when you laugh like that.” Peter blurted out. His eyes widened right after he spoke and he looked away but you already saw his blush.

You were blushing too. “I think you’re cute too.” you murmured.

“Y-you what?”

“I’m not saying it twice.”

Peter smirked. “S’okay, I already knew before you told me.”

“What?” you snapped.

He chuckled. “I could hear your heart rate speed up every time I came near you or when you looked at me. Didn’t take long to figure it out.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Not to mention now when we’re holding hands.”

You glanced down at your hands and your stubbornness wanted to pull them away but you couldn’t. Your hands were like magnets.

“Wait you can hear my heartbeat?” you asked.

Peter shrugged. “Comes with the spidey senses.”

Your eyebrows perked up. “What powers do you have?”

“I have hyphenated senses like hearing and strength and I can climb up walls and ceilings.”

“Whoa that’s cool. That’s why they call you Spider-Man?”

“Something like that.” he chuckled.

“So you can shoot web from your butt?” you snickered.

Peter scoffed. “No! I have webshooters on my wrist!”

You laughed. “I’m just messing with you.”

“Very funny.” Peter grumbled. “And technically spiders don’t weave their webs from their butts, they use-”

You rolled your eyes. “Peter, I was kidding.”

It quieted down after that. You glanced at the IV bags that hung by you, filled with dark red liquid. You were still tired morphine and found yourself dozing off, feeling the warmth of Peter’s hand drifting you to sleep like a lullaby.

You drifted into a dream. You felt a warmth of comfort and stability but you’re blanket was itchy and anything less than warm so you wondered what the source was for this warmth. You tried to turn over but a familiar arm was around you, preventing you to do so. You blush, hearing a familiar snore. Peter. Peter was the warmth. He was curled up next to you, his arm keeping you in place. You managed to turn around to face him, smiling as you admired him. Gosh he was even cuter as he slept. You leaned in a bit, just enough to peck his nose.

He groaned and his lashes fluttered, his brown eyes gazing up at you. “Hi, Princess.”

You giggled. “Hi, Peter.”

“I was hoping for a kiss on the lips.”

“I kissed your nose. Isn’t that good enough?” you teased.

“Nuh-uh.” He shook his head. “C’mere.”

You giggled again as he closed the distance between you to kiss your lips.

[vegetalass]

Veneno

its almost 5 am and i’ve been working on this for WEEKS and im sick of it!!!!! i think its the longest fic ive written in my life tbh...

I really wanted to play with the idea of a Sidestep who was manipulating herald, as I remember Malin mentioning multiple routes exploring a few different possibilities of treatments to the ROs. so this is my take on the manipulation theme!

partially inspired by my ex, who has a dumb nickname I never called him, and who once said to me “even if you can’t say it back, i’ll wait.” 

sorry for giving herald a cat. i was actually just describing mine lol. 

warning: contains Fallen Hero: Retribution spoilers, with sweets and drinking vice mentioned. 

HUGE thank you to @abyssopelagick and my friend GRUM!!!!!!! who i can honestly say i wouldn’t have been able to post without. ily both! 

FH:R belongs to @fallenhero-rebirth

Herald/gn!Reader - 2753 words

You knew it. You knew Herald used to be rich.

Maybe it was his perfect hair and blue eyes that gave it away, or the fact that he mentioned having a television as a kid. Maybe it was because he was so sweet and shy when you first met, that when you found the collection of pills beneath his bathroom counter when you went snooping through his stuff, that you realized you’d never even considered the fact that he’s probably never had to starve.

In retrospect, maybe it should’ve been a little more obvious after the first night you spent with him, and you should’ve taken better precautions to handle his delicate, loving nature, but so far you haven’t complained and you’re not about to start. Not only has everything worked out, but currently, you’re laying in the soft, old sheets of Herald’s bed, in his nice and clean apartment you can only describe as luxury.

Better than what you have. Better than what you had.

It makes you feel like a kid, the type with no concept for anything except longing. The kind of kid that reads books about bakers who sneak bread to dying girls, and blond princes who insist on liking someone their father hates.

And boy, does Herald like you.

He’s such a prim boy, if not just a sweet one. Kind, generous, loving, you name it. Anybody would be lucky to have him, and for now, that means you. The money is just a bonus, one that you could easily get used to.

Whether this has always the case, though, is another question. One that doesn’t matter much, because you find it’s just been nice to have been surprised as a telepath. Not to mention, you could always use the resources.

In some ways, it makes you want to laugh; to think that Herald knows nothing of your endeavors to kill him, and that all his good fortune can’t do a thing to stop you.

But in others, you feel like crying because he’s a boy who loves you and you have nothing left to offer in return.

You’ve decided not to mull on it. Because when he invites you to spend the night, and kisses you endlessly in that red-hot way, staying in his bed after is so comfortable and warm that it almost feels like the reason you don’t intend to get caught as a villain for a while.

So, you’ve been starting to come over to his place a lot recently.

It wasn’t intentional, your relationship with him. You always tried to tell him that it was Sidestep he was dreaming of, not this new you. But from the moment you let him kiss you on that day in HQ, and then later on that other night after your first date... it became harder and harder to stop yourself from growing quite… fond of him.

Even if it wasn’t planned.

Despite the mess that you’ve gotten tangled up in, in every possible way, it has been a really fun way to pass the time. Watching the way Herald dances around you as if you’re a breakable doll who’s done no wrong, even if he loves and trusts and admires you.

And the fact that you sometimes have emotional outbursts where you cry about disappointing him only adds to the effect of it all. It’s a risky but satisfying game, and even if part of it is genuine, you’re still a villain and have to remember the limits, though you don’t want to be evil all of the time. You might run out of luck.

Herald doesn’t know that, though. There’s actually a lot that he doesn’t.

Part of the fun is trying to guess how long you think all of this good might last. Because good things never last, do they?

But that’s no matter right now, and you shake your head from the thought, because the only person who has even dared to figure out your true nature is Herald’s cat, who hasn’t taken kindly to your presence since the start.

What a smart animal.

She’s a fat, old thing. A tabby, with piercing, green eyes. She was hiding on the first night you came over, probably busy licking herself and thinking that you were another romantic partner here to screw her Daniel over. She was right, but you just kept coming back.

Currently, she’s washing herself from her place on Herald’s dirty hoodie on the dresser across from you, looking up occasionally to hiss in what feels like a mocking, angry tone.

Re-Gene! Villain! I know what you’ve done, and you leave my Daniel out of it!

Tough shit, cat, though it’s still a shame she won’t let you pet her.

Not like you’re planning on moving out of bed, anyway.

It’s only in between your stints of dozing to the sound the sickly sounding auburn news anchor on the TV and mulling about whether sweets or a drink would taste better first, that you notice the approaching presence of Herald’s feather white aura growing closer, and realize that he must be in the building.

Even the now-napping cat seems to stir in acknowledgement before the both of you notice the sound of keys struggling in a locked door, as if you couldn’t try to pinpoint Herald’s exact location by entering his mind from your comfortable position with a little effort if you really wanted to try.

Immediately, the cat jumps from her comfortable perch to the floor, and rushes to the front door in an attempt to reach Herald halfway, get a scratch, and then rat you out as if he’d even listen if she could talk.

Either way, he’s home.

You can hear meows, and it’s easy to imagine how she tangles around his ankles as he squats to give her ears a good scritch. The pleasant imagery is interrupted too soon, though, as suddenly she yowls and you can hear the pit-pat of her feet as she rushes your way in her attempt to tattle on you.

“Oh, you,” you can hear him mutter at her as his footsteps echo in your direction before he hobbles into the room with a nasty limp. He looks about as close to someone who just got hit by a car and lived as someone possibly could, as his mess of gold hair is wind-blown and tangled, face bruised and dirty, and from the way his head is tilted down, must’ve been slouching for a while.

He looks... defeated, and you smile at the sight, hoping that you somehow look kind.

The cat continues to meow until Herald looks up, eyes widening in surprise when they finally meet your gaze, and despite his bad posture, or lack thereof from his aches, brightens immediately at your smile.

“Hi,” he breathes, finally standing up to throw his keys onto the little table resting by the door to his room.

“I wasn’t sure if I could let myself in-” You nod in his direction, before he interrupts you.

“Of course,” he blurts, almost too quickly, and then quickly looks away from your face when he finishes. “Always.”

You smile, feigning relief, even if you don’t really care.

Herald continues on, shuffling from where he’s standing to a dresser not far away, and you sit up in his bed to watch as he strips from his Ranger suit to reveal another handful of purple-blue wounds and scratches layered above his already scarred chest. He must be hurting.  

“Daniel...” you call to him in an attempt to seem worried, and he hums in acknowledgement, “Are you okay?”

He grunts, and in the silence that follows, the TV seems to grow louder in his place. You hadn’t realized that it switched from the weather special to a Los Diablos Breaking News! segment.

“Ranger spotted in successful attempt stopping local mob,” the smiling woman says, eyes blurred toward the camera as a clip of Herald handcuffing a man in a black jumpsuit takes over the screen.

You smile again because he’s a really good guy. A great one. And his fighting has been getting better.

Part of you wonders if it’s due to the fact that you’ve been training him, and the other part wonders if you should be worried. He’s always been someone who appears a lot weaker than he actually is. And you want to stoke the flame.

“You don’t have pull the tough guy act with me, Daniel,” you say to him, this time more forcefully.

You know he always notices when you use his real name, which is one of the reasons why you started using it. This time, you watch as he lowers the green shirt he’s been holding to his chest to look at you with those endless blue eyes and sigh wistfully.

“I get it, you know I do,” you try again, this time with the intent of at least getting him to open up.

You’re nervous, at first, scared of what he could say to you. That he knows you’re playing games, or that he doesn’t want you around anymore. But nothing has ever warranted this response in the past, so you wonder what’s happened to him to make him look at you like you just hit him over the head.

Ha.

You have hurt him. You even ruined one of his legs, but that was in the past, and it’s not like he knows that was you. If he did, you’d hope that he’d just be grateful enough to appreciate the fact that you didn’t kill him that night, too. He shouldn’t have any reason to look worried when you’ve just been here, lying in bed, silently waiting for him to join you, so you suppose you shouldn’t be worried either.

The TV speaks again.

“Impressive feat for the youngest member of the Rangers, who just under a year ago was taken down by the notorious Puppetmaster at their debut sighting.”

Herald is still paused, except this time, you notice his gaze has moved from you to the screen in front of him.

Though the news channel was initially spouting a success story, it’s no surprise that they’re now comparing Herald’s skills to when the both of you fought. It’s also not a surprise when the golden boy of the Rangers suddenly looks even smaller than before when he whips back around as to stop glaring at the news anchor as if she could even see him. You wonder what she would do if she could.  

You don’t speak.

“You know…” Herald starts, ignoring your previous words all together, “I’m worried about you.”

This doesn’t shock you, though not because you’re a telepath. He’s a naive boy, so of course he is worried, and because part of you cares about him in some twisted way, the good in you wishes that he wasn’t.

Worried or naive?

Both?

Deep down, you know he shouldn’t like you and you crave to tell him as such. To berate him, to beat it into him, to scream that he’s just a stupid, little boy in love with an animal who has a past he’d never understand. But it’s easy to stop yourself because you always do.

You hesitate to respond, but mutter back anyway. “Why?”  

You know he means it well, he means everything well, but the words come out harsher than you intended them to, and you quickly have to pat the spot next to you in bed to ensure that Herald thinks you’re not angry at him for simply… being him.

The little, sweet and young Sidestep that is still left in your heart is screaming to be kinder; telling you that you should just be happy that there is someone still cares for you and is able to show it. But there’s an ache in your heart, and suddenly the thought of both your past and your future make you feel like you have to get piss-shit drunk, puke all over yourself, and then immediately get heartburn.

So you decide to ignore the thought all together, and focus on the fact that Herald is now staring intently at you again. Only half-dressed (which is distracting), still, but staring nonetheless.

He tilts his face towards the ground to slouch once more, before whispering, “I just don’t want… them to come after you, too.”

“Oh, hush,” you say instantly, patting the bed again, before reaching out your arms for him to join you as he makes his way over. You know who he means, and the person already has.

You.

You are coming for yourself.

“Puppetmaster is growing very strong, when they learn you’re still around… they might-” He cannot finish the thought before he reaches the bed and ducks himself into your waiting arms.

You roll your eyes as you rest your cheek on his soft head. He really is a silly boy.

“I’ll be fine,” you say, into his hair, “I still have you, don’t I?”

He stays silent, so you continue the charade.

“You’re the one on the frontlines, so if anything, I’m the one who should be worried,” are your final words, before Herald cups your cheeks in his large palms in an attempt to kiss you. Before he makes it, however, you have to swat his face away because you can’t stop the laugh that bubbles deep from inside your chest at the realization of the situation.

Herald looks stunned, but smiles meekly in return when he decides you aren’t angry, and then laughs with you, even if he doesn’t get the joke.

“You’re silly, Daniel,” you say, settling with simplicity, because what do you say to the love who you’re lying to? What can you say, even if you kind of love them back?

But Herald, or maybe Daniel now (as you don’t much care which anymore), just blinks slow and smiles, content being held tightly in your arms.

You want to consider it strange, all this dedication to a person he doesn’t really know, this old Sidestep person, whoever they are, except that in a way, you realize, he does know you.

He knows the you that you have given him, this laughing kid, and in a sense, you truly believe that that’s not really you at all; because you just play this game too well, and he’s been wrapped around your finger from the start. You allowed for this, and you don’t want to say you regret it.

He’s a sweet boy. Always has been. And he never fails to surprise you.

“I love you,” he declares suddenly, voice quiet, sweet, and calming.

And you’re shocked. Not because you didn’t know that, but because you weren’t expecting to really care. And underneath his covers, everything seems three times as sweet. You weren’t expecting to be flattered, and there’s a part of you doesn't even mind. Another thing you could easily get used to. So responding is easy.

“Thank you, Daniel. I mean it.”

And he nods, still cuddled against your heart, your tattoos, looking at you like someone who could truly be loved. He is smiling all the while, too.

“Even if you can’t say it back, I’ll wait,” he says, lips barely curled, blue eyes sparkling.

It’s a nice gesture: this sudden, heartfelt proclamation, but you can’t say it’s one you deserve, as you have been so cruel to both him and yourself. Even though the Sidestep in you would rather jump off a roof, crash, and die before breaking his heart, you have long since realized that there is still a villain inside you that is hungry to laugh and cheer when Herald finds out who really tore him apart on that night at the museum.

You’d feel worse, but that day really was amazing. Finally making yourself proud, even at his expense.

However, the thought quickly escapes you, as this time, when he leans over to kiss you, you let him. His lips are warm on yours, and as you find your fingers tangled in his hair, for a second, it almost feels as though this relationship wasn’t built on a lie.  

“I know,” you respond, smiling sweetly at him for once, genuinely, because even if could change your behavior, you cannot help your pride, and you cannot help your heart.

And when you’re going to break his anyway, even though you know you should stop this mess, because a small part of you loves him, you might as well make sure it hurts.

[artificialqueens]

Just the Game We’re In - Chapter 12 (Ortega

a/n: I have honestly no idea how to start this off, and I’m aware I’m not accepting a fucking Oscar, so I’ll try to keep this as short as possible. Back in the summer of 2016, there was a crossover fic challenge posted to this blog. I was in the process of finishing MasP and, as someone who fucking loved The Thick Of It and knew how well Bianca would fit as Malcolm Tucker, I posted chapter 1 of what started as a lighthearted, funny Politics AU, Just the Game We’re In. Fast forward nearly three fucking years, me graduating from uni and getting a job, countless long-ass fuckin update gaps and 179,065 words later, this is the final chapter, and I have no idea what the fuck I’m going to do with my life now!! I know I’m not the first person to ever finish a fic in this blog’s history, i ain’t special sis, but I really do want to say thank you thank you thank you to anyone who has ever given any chapter of this a note, reblogged it with something lovely, made fucking fanart or a moodboard (still in awe at that), has read any part of it, or has simply been a friend I’ve made through the writing process. It would be criminal not to specially mention @purecamp- she has without a doubt been Game’s biggest cheerleader throughout it all and legit I may not have even finished this if it wasn’t for her. She is a fantastic person and an amazing friend. I’ll sound like a wet wipe, but Game has legit changed my life. When I was little my dream was to be an author and I loved writing stories. I had never expected my writing to get much of a response when I joined AQ but I can safely say that this blog has been so so amazing and has really allowed me to live my childhood dream of writing a story that people actually wanted to read (this is the definition of cheesy). I’ll shut up now, but here she is everyone. As always lmk what u think over at artificialortega, I tried so hard to make it the most absolutely perfect ending. Chapter 12 of Game, the final chapter. It has been some fuckin wild ride. Xxxxxxxxx

(p.s. phi phi ur a babe im sorry i made u the opposition in this fic and i know u don’t have shitty opinions like game phi phi)

The street was silent. Time had seemed to freeze completely, and even the sound of the car speeding away seemed to be on mute. Perhaps it was just the overwhelming ringing in Willam’s ears that drowned everything else out, which sounded eerily akin to a flatline.

Willam could only blink and feel her heartbeat through her chest, cruelly taunting her and reminding her that Sharon, lying on the concrete, might not have had that privilege. Was she moving? Was she bleeding? Was she alive?

It felt as if Willam stood there frozen for minutes but it was probably only seconds, as all at once she felt herself walking forward, two slow steps and then breaking out into a sprint where she skidded to a halt beside Sharon’s body.

Fuck, no, not her body, Willam thought. Beside Sharon. Sharon, the living human being.

“Sharon,” Willam felt her voice come out as nothing more than a hoarse, panic-induced whisper. She looked at the woman in front of her. Willam was relieved to find that there weren’t any horrific, horror-movie style streams of blood pissing out of her. Suddenly she remembered the phrase she’d gleaned from many hours of her Mum watching Casualty, “internal bleeding”, and her heart grew cold. There were some huge scratches on her head which were already taking on the greenish hue of a bruise underneath, and the friction of her body on the tarmac had ripped open the light Summer jacket Sharon had been wearing and opened a deep gash on the arm which sat ugly and unmoving, a stagnant red against her pale skin.

Her leg was bent at a gruesomely impossible angle.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Willam hissed, shock pulsing through her like a thousand volts as she grabbed her phone from her jacket pocket and grew frustrated as it clung to the material and wouldn’t seem to budge. After some fierce tugs it finally emerged. Willam fumbled with her passcode two times then succeeded in opening her phone, and with shaky fingers she dialled 4 9s, deleted one, and hit the call button.

It rang once, then twice, then again. The ringing continued. Willam’s panic increased tenfold. How often do you need to phone 999 in your life, and when you finally do they don’t fucking pick up the phone?

Finally, the voice of the operator came down the line.

“999, which service do you require?”

“Ambulance, please,” Willam breathed out, the scared tone in her voice and the small, polite plea at the end making her feel as if she was about 5 years old.

“And the address please?”

Willam looked around, panic consuming her every movement and rendering her unable to see clearly. “We’re outside the Crown and Anchor in Chiswick, I don’t know the road name, um-”

“Can you see any road signs at all?”

Willam found her gaze focussing on a street sign a little further along the road. “Um. Belmont Road, I think? I’m sorry, I can’t-”

“Don’t worry, love, we’ve got it,” the voice replied soothingly, making Willam feel more like a child than ever. “And can you describe what’s happened at all?”

“My friend,” Willam began, then was suddenly cut off by a sob that unexpectedly welled up and burst in her throat, causing two tears to spring from her eyes. “She’s been hit by a car, it just came along from nowhere and it didn’t stop, she rolled right over it.”

“Your friend’s been hit by a car? Okay, my love. And you’re saying the car didn’t brake?”

“No,” Willam gasped, her breathing becoming more and more erratic as she sobbed. Fuck, where had all this crying come from?

“Was the car moving quickly?”

Willam frowned. It had been so long since she’d driven it was hard to give an estimate. “It seemed to be going pretty fast but I couldn’t say how much, sorry.”

There was a short pause. Willam looked at Sharon lying below her, then in panic around her as she realised she was still on the road. “I’m not being rude but is the ambulance coming?”

“Don’t worry, love, I know it can be hard when you’re waiting for someone to arrive. The ambulance has been dispatched, don’t panic. Keep talking to me. Is your friend conscious?”

Willam instantly turned to Sharon. “Sharon?” she shook her shoulder, lifted up an eyelid. “Sharon? Fuck, I don’t think so.”

“Don’t think so. Okay. Is she breathing?”

Willam knelt close to her chest and rested her hand on her heart. She felt the gentle rise and fall of her chest and wanted to cry with relief.  “Yes.”

“Still breathing, okay. And you said the patient’s name was Sharon?”

“Yeah, Sharon Needles,” Willam stuttered, momentarily worried about the headlines then cursing herself for the priorities she automatically had.

“Is she bleeding?” the call carrier continued, seemingly not the least bit fazed by the famous invalid.

“She’s got a massive big cut on her arm, but nothing else major. Um…some scratches here and there? I don’t know what’ll need stitches or not…fuck, fuck,” Willam breathed, the seriousness and reality of the situation hitting her all over again. “We’re still on the road, should I move her?”

“No, don’t move her, love. There could be broken bones which might be made worse if you do.”

Willam sighed, taking Sharon’s hand absent-mindedly. The small gesture almost broke her heart and reminded her of how things used to be. Maybe everything would be different if she’d never accepted Sharon’s offer of drinks, this may never have happened. She sighed in exasperation as she suppressed another sob. “Is the ambulance nearby?”

“I’m sorry love, it’s on its way. I know the questions can be annoying but everything we get we pass on to the paramedics-”

“She’s my friend,” Willam said softly, bringing her other hand up to stroke Sharon’s cheek.

“I know, love, we’re doing all we can at this end. Can you describe your friend for me? Age, gender, nationailty?”

The questions seemed to go round in a circle. They were endless, and Willam could feel herself growing more and more irate as the minutes seemed to tick by. Finally, after what seemed like hours, an ambulance slowly drew to a halt on the opposite side of the road to Willam. She immediately hung up on the operator and sprinted to the paramedics who were on their way over to Sharon.

“Hello there!” one greeted her, as natural and cheerful as if she’d just asked him about the weather. “Right, so this is our patient over here. What’s her name?“

Everything passed on to the paramedics my ass, Willam cursed under her breath, then spoke. “It’s Sharon. She was hit by a car.”

“Hello, Sharon, love!” the other paramedic greeted her, lifting her eyelids and shining a small torch into them. “Can you hear us, Sharon?”

Willam wanted to hiss at them that they’d get more conversation out of Helen Keller but she remembered that she wasn’t in Dosac any more, she wasn’t at work, she was lying on a road with her friend crumpled in a heap and no matter how incompetent these people seemed, they were there to help her.

“No response. Okay, grab the gurney.”

What followed this may as well have been another language as the two paramedics spoke in terrifying terminology about IV drips, lacerations and bone fractures. The man brought out a huge metal trolley that Sharon was lifted up onto after some form of yellow styrofoam-looking cast was placed around her mangled leg and another one was placed around her head. As she was carried into the ambulance, Willam, who had been silent for some time save for answering the paramedic’s questions, spoke up.

“Can I, um. Can I come with you in the ambulance?”

‘Of course you can, darling,” the female paramedic smiled at her. Willam momentarily wondered why NHS staff seemed to speak solely in pet names. “What’s your name, love?”

“Willam.”

“Willam, okay. And you are Sharon’s…?”

Willam paused for a beat. “I’m her best friend.”

“Bestie, aw that’s nice. So you were out for some drinks when this happened then, yeah? Girls night out?”

“Something like that,” Willam sighed, climbing the steps up to the back of the ambulance then sitting in the small chair at the end of the vehicle and putting her seatbelt on. Sharon sat in the silver trolley opposite her already hooked up to various machines. Symbols and numbers flashed on a small screen, none of which Willam could tell was good or bad.

“Okay, seatbelt on,” the woman instructed her, sitting down in her own seat herself. “We’ll be at the hospital in no time. Once we’re there, we’ll-”

Willam barely heard her as her mind began to drift away, and all she could focus on were the sirens attached to the ambulance that seemed so far away. That all-too-familiar sound that she recognised from streets and junctions was her and Sharon, the pair of them racing through central London in an ambulance.

Soon enough they arrived at the hospital, and Sharon was being wheeled out of the ambulance, down a ramp and straight into the building. Willam followed awkwardly behind, past people in wheelchairs and others in beds hooked up to various beeping machines and parked, or perhaps abandoned, in corridors. The male paramedic turned to her suddenly as Sharon was wheeled behind a curtain.

“I’m sorry- she can’t have anyone with her at the moment.”

Willam frowned, helpless. “But-”

“She’s in good hands, I promise,” he smiled at her, his gentle eyes reminding her of a long-dead Grandpa she had loved dearly and making her want to cry all over again. His face turned conspiratorial as his eyes shifted around. “Look you shouldn’t really, but if you go to that desk over there you’ll get taken to a relative’s room. It’s not much but it’ll be a quiet room with a kettle and a sofa and a phone and it’ll be a hell of a lot better than sitting stressed in the waiting room.”

Willam gazed over at the desk in question, opposite which were hordes of people waiting to be seen- some looked fine, some had huge wads of kitchen roll wrapped around cuts, there were a couple of drunk men singing football chants and a child with a toy stuck to their foot. Definitely not ideal company.

“Thanks,” Willam summoned up a smile to return to the man.

“That’s alright. I know you must have had a stressful evening,” he said sincerely, frowning.

Willam nodded to him. “It’s appreciated, um…”

“Mattheiu,” the paramedic smiled, holding out a hand for her to shake. She took it gently, thanked him for perhaps the third time, and made her way to the desk where she answered a few questions in a daze and then got shown to a small room, just as Matthieu had described- small, windowless, with dim lights and a single sofa and a little tray with a kettle, teabags, coffee and a pot of milk. There was a landline phone too, and Willam wanted to laugh at it before she checked her phone and realised she had no signal.

She sat on the sofa and took one deep, shuddery breath. What would happen now? Should she have phoned the police too? Willam hadn’t known what to do, but at least Sharon was being taken care of now. She hoped to God she would be okay. Willam thought hard. What had the car looked like? Silver. Or was it black? Fuck, she couldn’t remember. Number plate? Willam was fucked if she knew. This was terrible. If the police did arrive she would be about as much use as a bottle of Becks at an AA meeting. Something inside Willam questioned whether the whole thing had been an accident. It was easily enough explained- or what if it had been planned? Anyone who ran someone over would have stopped and got out and checked to see if the person was okay, surely? Maybe it was someone who felt too guilty to stop, who was too terrified in case they got convicted- or maybe it was somebody who was satisfied they’d completed what they’d set out to do. What if they’d charged the wrong person for the death threats? What if they had still been at large the whole time?

Willam sighed. Her head was too full, and it was killing her not being able to talk the situation out with anybody. Suddenly, it struck her that people would need to know what had happened. Two people in particular, Willam thought- one in particular that probably hated her but who would come into the hospital to sit with her, and to be with her. After all, she still cared about Willam, she had said so herself. The second was worse, but she still needed to be here. Willam knew she would immediately come in, no matter how bad things had been between her and the woman currently lying on a hospital trolley. She needed to know before it got into the press, and Willam had horrific visions of one of them finding out from a BBC News 24 notification.

Her professional brain urged her to phone Bianca first, and Willam growled at it angrily as she picked up the landline, looked in her contacts, and dialled the number of the first woman in question. She could have been apprehensive or afraid, but not right now. Right now she was afraid of something much worse, and it wasn’t on the other end of the phone.

Courtney picked up after four rings. “Hello?”

“Hey. It’s me,” Willam began, her stomach sinking at having to do this over the phone.

“Willam…it’s two in the morning.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t know if you’d still be awake.”

Courtney’s voice wasn’t harsh or reprimanding as Willam had expected. It was as if she knew that something was up. Sure enough, the Australian accent came down the line again. “Willam, what’s happened?”

Willam felt her blood run cold. She didn’t want to have to bear the news. “Sharon’s in hospital.”

“Oh fuck.”

“She was run over by a car,” Willam said, completely unsure of where the conversation went from here.

“Oh Jesus. Is she okay? Fuck, sorry, what a stupid question,” Courtney’s voice was apologetic, and Willam could hear commotion on the other end of the line, and snuffling.

“Courtney, don’t be upset. It’s okay, it’ll be alright,” Willam found herself comforting the girl on the end of the phone, annoyed that there wasn’t much else she could do.

“Are you at the hospital now? Can I come in?” Willam could hear Courtney struggling with something down the line, perhaps a coat or a pair of shoes.

“Yeah, please. We’re at Charing Cross Hospital. Phone me when you’re outside- no, shit, I’ve got no reception. Just tell me how long you’ll be and I’ll go and wait at the main entrance for you.”

Courtney gave a small, helpless sigh. “Fuck, I don’t know, I don’t know how long I’ll have to wait for a taxi at this time of night.”

“Courtney, you live in London,” Willam said, unable to help herself as she snorted a small giggle.

“Fuck. Right,” Courtney matched her laughter, which quickly turned into a sob. “Fuck. Um, half an hour?”

“Okay. See you then,” Willam sighed, her heart hurting at Courtney’s panic. “Courtney, it’ll be okay. Don’t worry. She’s safe now.”

“Right,” Courtney replied with a sniff, which didn’t inspire any confidence in Willam. “See you then.”

With that, Courtney was gone. Willam deflated on the sofa, letting out what seemed to be all the air in her lungs.

That had been hard enough. Now for the phone call she really didn’t want to have to make.

***

Willam had decided to wait at the entrance a little earlier than she said she’d be, just in case Courtney was early too. Part of her was anxious about leaving the relatives room, in case somebody arrived with news about Sharon, but she’d said she would meet Courtney at the door. As she stood in the chilly night air, she watched as cars and taxis pulled up and people came and went, the hospital just as busy as it probably was during the daytime. Health didn’t sleep or take a rest, thought Willam, and she supposed anything could happen to anyone at any time. Life was scary, she pondered, and mortality was so fragile.

As she was wondering, she was suddenly distracted by a sudden, harsh pounding of footsteps on the pavement, and somebody sobbing. Willam looked up and saw Alaska running from a taxi and straight towards her. If it had been any other situation, Willam would have laughed- Alaska was wearing trainers on her feet paired with huge fluffy bedsocks, her outfit consisted of Winnie The Pooh pyjama bottoms and a huge, baggy hoodie, probably pulled on over her pyjama top. A huge parka topped off the look, and Alaska’s face was red and blotchy with puffy eyes which had tears streaming from them.

As Alaska finally reached Willam, she flung her arms around her in a hug and the girl’s body was racked with sobs. Willam sighed, muttering soft, calming words and rubbing Alaska’s back in circles. It had been a horrendous phone call even though it hadn’t lasted long- Alaska, just like Courtney, sensed something had been up, even to the extent that she’d known something had happened to Sharon. She had immediately broken down in tears, but Willam had hardly had time to say anything comforting to her before she was gone, presumably to phone a taxi.

“Is she okay?” Alaska squeaked out in between shudders and sobs. Willam gave her a squeeze.

“She’s in good hands. They’ve not given me an update but I think she’ll be okay. She was still breathing when I was with her so that’s a good sign.”

Alaska broke away from the hug slightly, horror on her face. “Oh my God, you were there? What happened?”

Willam sighed, not wanting to relive it all. “We had been for a drink and we were literally just saying goodbye. Sharon was crossing the road and we were mucking about, she was sort of walking across it really slowly. She stopped and paused in the middle of it and then the car just came at her.”

“She stopped in the road?” Alaska whispered. Willam could see her mind was going at around a thousand miles an hour.

“Alaska, it was 1am. The streets were dead.”

“But surely you could hear the car coming? Fuck, Willam, why didn’t you stop her or push her out of the way or something?” Alaska said, growing frustrated. Then, seeing Willam’s hackles immediately raising at the accusation, she stopped. “Sorry. Shit, I’m sorry, Willam, it wasn’t your fault, none of it was your fault. Fuck, it’s such a mess.”

Alaska began to cry again and Willam pulled her back into a hug. As she started to calm down, Willam took her hand and squeezed it.

“I’ve been put in a relative’s room- nobody’s updated me about Sharon yet but then I’ve only been here for 20 minutes. Why don’t we go inside and see if there’s been any progress?” she summoned a smile for her friend, not yet letting go of her hand. She led Alaska back into the hospital, past the initial shopping-centre facade of coffee shops and WH Smiths that lined the entrance hall and staved off the horrors of the fact that they were in an actual fucking hospital- a place where people bled and suffered and died, and Willam hated it.

She had only just managed to find her way back to the relative’s room and get a snuffling Alaska sat on the couch when a doctor who seemed entirely too young in an all-too-stereotypical white coat entered. Willam could have laughed at how much of a parody everything seemed, until the doctor spoke.

“Hello, ladies. I’m Dr Hall, I’ve been put in charge of Sharon for the time being,” he stuck out his hand, Willam following suit and shaking it while Alaska was unable to rise from the couch.

“I’m Willam, that’s Alaska. She’s Sharon’s girlfriend,” she responded as she shook. Semantics could get fucked for now- Alaska cared like a girlfriend, cried like a girlfriend and worried like a girlfriend so for the moment, that was who she was to Sharon.

“Good to meet you both. I’ve just been in triage with Sharon and I’ve done an initial assessment with the head nurse. It’s hard to say until we run some more thorough tests, but for the moment we believe Sharon has sustained a number of injuries and she’ll be in the ICU for her time here.”

There, the doctor paused as if to take in the reactions of the girls in front of him. Willam had been aware of a cry from Alaska, but she was motionless and felt completely sick. “Injuries like what?”

“Well, we’re certain she’s broken her leg. That’s straightforward enough and we’ll be able to fix that. She also has a laceration on her right arm that will need stitched up, but everything else seems to be internal. Her breathing is very laboured so we think there could be some sort of fracture to her ribs or alternatively a traumatic pneumothorax, what you and I would refer to as a punctured lung.”

Alaska gave a gasp as Willam took all of the information in. She knew Sharon was hurt, but she didn’t realise just how bad it was, as silly as it sounded.

“Apart from that, we’ll need to get her a CT scan to assess whether or not there’s any internal bleeding or any other fractures or breakages,” he continued, his face softening as his eyes settled on Alaska. “I’m very sorry, I know how hard this must be for you both.”

“Can we see her?” Alaska asked softly, her eyes filled with tears. Willam let a small breath go.

“Alaska, you heard him. Sharon will be waiting to go for scans just now, she’s not in a fit state for us,” Willam sat down next to her friend and pulled her close. Exhaustion seemed to overcome Alaska and her sobs fell quiet, choosing to look intently at the floor instead. Willam turned to address the doctor. “When can we see her, though?”

“It’s hard to say. Once she’s had her scans she might need to go into theatre and if so, she’ll be waiting for that. When she’s done, we’ll give her a room and you can go and see her. Until then you’re welcome to use this room as your base, and if you need me at all then please feel free to ask at reception for me,” Dr Hall smiled gently, nodding to the two women as he left the room and closed the door silently.

Once he was gone, silence filled the small room. Willam stood up slowly.

“Lask, I’m going to need to head back outside. I said I’d pick up Courtney. Are you going to be okay here?”

The other woman wordlessly nodded. Despite the uneasy feeling in her chest, Willam knew she had to go outside to see if Courtney was there.

As she walked back to the same spot where she’d met Alaska, thoughts swirled around her mind and poured over the top of each other like a whirlpool. A punctured lung, internal bleeding. All of it was so horrible. Willam couldn’t help but imagine the worst, and her stomach felt so tight and sick.

She didn’t have to walk all the way back outside, as she found Courtney as she turned into the small shopping area. She was leaving the little M&S food (capitalism at its worst, Willam thought, putting arguably the most expensive supermarket in a hospital so people have no other choice but to buy from them) with a small shopping bag and her face, similar to Alaska’s, was red and tear-stained. She was dressed in a sweatshirt, jeans and trainers but her hair was still curled neatly, indicative of her date just hours before.

She’d probably been having such a good night, Willam thought, and I’ve ruined it.

“Courtney,” Willam called her over, the other girl’s head turning at the mention of her name. Selfishly, Willam’s heart lifted at the brief light that shone in Courtney’s eyes when she saw her. As if everything that had happened between them had been forgotten, Courtney hurried forward and wrapped her arms around Willam in a hug. Willam could feel her breathing deeply as she sighed and her mind cruelly taunted her, the image of a rib piercing through Sharon’s lung springing to mind involuntarily even though she knew that wasn’t how a punctured lung worked. For a moment they both stood still in each other’s arms, the two women simply needing held, one anchoring the other.

Courtney pulled away first, like Willam knew she would. She fixed her red eyes on Willam’s and her face was full of concern. “How is she, Willam?”

“Doctor was just in, they’re doing a scan on her now but they think she’s got a punctured lung and maybe internal bleeding. She’s broken her leg and the road sliced her arm open too. She could have fractured or broken more bones but they don’t know yet,” Willam sighed, unable to break Courtney’s gaze. The other woman looked sick as she glanced down the corridor. Willam could see she was looking at all the different horrifying hospital signs, each as cryptic and foreboding as the last.

“Oh God, it’s horrible. Absolutely fucking horrible,” she said softly, shakily breathing in.

“She’ll be in the ICU once they’ve finished with her, but we don’t know how long that’ll be. Alaska’s here, and they’ve given us a room to wait in,” Willam explained, as she began to walk slowly forward, gently encouraging Courtney to follow.

Courtney walked a couple of steps silently, then gave a panicked laugh. “I’m an idiot. I just went and panic-bought a ton of hospital shit for Sharon. I doubt it’ll be much use to her.”

Willam looked down at the bag. “What did you get?”

Courtney gave a humourless bark of a laugh. “Grapes, Lucosade and Heat magazine.”

“The holy trinity of intensive care unit accessories,” Willam quipped equally humourlessly.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, Willam having to fight the urge to reach down and intertwine her fingers with Courtney’s as they walked down each corridor. She couldn’t believe she was having these horrible, selfish thoughts while Sharon was lying on a hospital trolley somewhere in the building but the whole experience had shocked and scared her, reminded her of how unforgiving and cruel fate could be, and that was enough to make anyone cling to the people they cared for.

The rest of the time in the relatives’ room passed in a blur. Courtney and Alaska were reunited and tears were shed as soon as they saw each other, Courtney clinging to Alaska and muttering how sorry she was over and over again whilst Alaska silently stood and let herself be held, tears alternating between streaming down her cheeks and dropping directly from her eyes onto Courtney’s hoodie. They sat and they waited. Willam made the three of them cups of tea, none of which were drank. They tried to talk about things, mundane things, anything that wasn’t Sharon. They sat still and isolated from each other, save for Courtney holding Alaska’s hand tightly, her knuckles white and curled around Alaska’s fingers.

It had been roughly an hour and twenty minutes when the doctor from before re-appeared in the room, and just before he spoke there was silence like Willam had never heard before, as if the whole world held its breath.

***

The beeping was monotonous and creepy and clinical, but to Willam it was the best sound she’d heard in her life because as long as the beeping continued, it meant Sharon was alive.

She didn’t look very Sharon-like, though, she supposed, as Willam watched in slight horror as her chest rose laboriously up and down. Tubes snaked in and out of various limbs and an oxygen mask was strapped to her swollen face, upon which had developed several green and blue bruises. She looked awful, but she was breathing.

The hours had both dragged and flown by.  03.40, Doctor Hall had explained that Sharon was in theatre as the CAT scan had uncovered internal bleeding near her liver. Their worst fear. Alaska had cried and Courtney had been shaken and Willam sat and stared at nothing, paralysed with fear. 04.15, another visit from the doctor after a tense and sickening half hour in the relatives’ room, which had begun to feel like a prison. The surgeons had stopped the bleeding and Sharon would be okay, although on top of the punctured lung she did have a broken collarbone, two fractured ribs and a fractured pelvis. Willam hadn’t known if she was supposed to be happy that Sharon wasn’t in immediate life-threatening danger or full of dread at all the horrible breaks and fractures she’d sustained. 04.50, another visit from Dr Hall, and just as tensions were running at their highest the three girls had finally been told they could see Sharon.

That had been the last update before they’d followed Dr Hall up to the intensive care unit and into a small, mercifully private room which housed a bed, two chairs, a bedside cabinet, a TV, and Sharon with all her tubes and machines. Willam hadn’t been able to stop staring at the woman on the bed since she’d seen her, and neither had the other two girls. Willam had given both of them the chairs and she’d chosen to stand near the door, which meant she could see both of their expressions. Courtney looked pale and blank-faced, Alaska looked mournful.

It was Alaska who spoke first in an entirely emotionless voice. “She doesn’t look like Sharon.”

There was a silence which Willam filled. “He did tell us that she’d look different. I know it’s freaky but all the stuff she’s hooked up to is all stuff that’s going to help her, Lask.”

Alaska nodded silently. She looked at one of Sharon’s hands, the one closest to the bed, which had an IV line attached to the back of it. Her mouth turned downwards. “I’m scared to even hold her hand in case something else goes wrong.”

Courtney rested a hand on Alaska’s arm. “Nothing’s going to go wrong. It’ll be fine.”

Alaska leaned forward, reached a hand out and awkwardly rested it over Sharon’s, lacing the tips of her fingers through Sharon’s own. Willam let out a breath she was unaware she’d been holding, akin to a sigh of relief.

“When will she wake up, do you think?” Alaska asked, her voice small.

Courtney sighed. “She’ll be resting for a while yet, I think. The pain meds will knock her out quite a bit.”

“Do you think when she wakes up she’d be able to get me some?” Willam deadpanned, without being able to help it. She watched as Alaska turned to look at her, then bit her lip as she stifled a laugh. Courtney first looked to Alaska, then at Willam before she let out a small giggle. Willam smiled. It wasn’t much, an unfunny joke about drugs, but it had lifted some of the tension from the room.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed once, then twice, then three times. A call. She took her phone out of her pocket, and she could see the other girls looking at her forebodingly.

Caller ID- Bianca.

Willam had known that the phone call would come, she just hadn’t expected it to be so soon. She looked at the other two girls, stepped out of the room, and took it.

“Hi, Bianca.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line, which never ever happened in a Bianca Del Rio phone call. When Bianca phoned you she had shit to say immediately and she never wasted time. Now, though, Willam felt the seconds tick by. Her voice finally came. “Willam. What’s happened to Sharon.”

Willam cast her eyes through the glass to the three women in the small room, and her heart sank.

“Willam.”

Willam took a breath. “We were out together. She was in a hit and run. She’s in intensive care.”

There was some form of sound from Bianca that sounded both angry and anguished. Willam held her breath. “I’m sorry, Bianca, I should have phoned you earlier. I should have phoned the police-”

“Willam, you listen to me,” Bianca’s voice came down the line, hoarse and harsh. “Do not dare apologise. You weren’t to know. You got her to the hospital, which was the most important thing.”

There was a silence. Willam turned and looked at the pale, beige paint of the corridor walls. “It’s reached the press, hasn’t it.”

“Obviously.”

She hissed and let the silence linger. “Jesus Christ, Bianca, this is all a fucking hellscape.”

“I know. I know. And I can’t hold it from the front pages, Willam, they’re all fucking animals and they need to be fed. The Guardian have got a testimonial from a trainee nurse that knows all her fucking injuries and has leaked them all,” Bianca sighed. Willam had never heard her sound so hopeless. She was silent again. “You’ve been my first port of call. I’m going to phone the detective looking after Sharon’s case, because I don’t believe for a minute that this was a coincidence. Then I’m coming in to see her.”

“Bianca, don’t…” Willam began. How do you comfort a woman like Bianca? “Don’t worry about the press. There’s still a couple of hours before shit goes to print, we can figure something out.”

“I’m not worried about the press. I’m worried about Sharon.”

Silence.

Bianca’s voice came again. “I’ll see you in a bit. Take care, Willam.”

She was gone.

Willam walked back into Sharon’s room. Alaska and Courtney immediately looked up at her.

“The press have got it,” she said blankly. Courtney shook her head.

“Well, we knew it would only be a matter of time,” Alaska said softly, her face frowning.

“Bianca’s coming in. She’ll probably have police with her,” Willam said, then sighed as realisation dawned on her. “Which means I’ll get questioned. Can’t wait for that.”

Courtney caught her eye. She looked genuinely concerned for Willam and despite everything, Willam’s heart skipped a beat. Courtney rose slowly. “Well, we’ll all need coffee if we’re going to be awake much longer. I’ll get us some.”

“I’ll come with you,” Willam suddenly decided, Courtney’s eyes giving nothing away as she nodded her permission. Alaska simply looked up at them and then back down at Sharon. It was an unspoken fact that she wasn’t going to leave her side anytime soon.

Willam followed Courtney out into the corridor and then into the lift where they were both silent. Willam looked at the floor, then spoke.

“At least she’s alright.”

Courtney nodded. “True. I think we just need her to come to and then we’ll all breathe a sigh of relief.”

There was another silence as they walked into the small Costa. Courtney ordered three espressos with milk from a barista with purple hair and huge winged eyeliner, and they sat at a table and waited. Willam looked at Courtney’s face- the worried frown lines on her forehead, her glassy, tired eyes, her lips which were sore and bitten. She missed her so much.

“So,” Willam began, deciding to break the silence. “How was your date?”

“My date- oh!” Courtney looked confused, then enlightened. She gave a laugh. “Yeah…it was nice. Andrew’s a lovely guy and he’s a good old-fashioned gentleman.”

Willam wanted to laugh. What had she expected, Courtney to fall back into her arms? “Oh. Well, at least that’s-”

“But I think we’re probably going to stay as friends,” Courtney finished, interrupting her. Willam couldn’t help but feel her heart lifting.

“That’s a shame,” Willam frowned. Courtney looked at her for a beat, then spluttered a laugh.

“You don’t give a shit, do you?” she asked softly as she laughed. Willam snorted.

“No, I guess I don’t,” she smiled affectionately. Fuck, she’d missed laughing with her, seeing her eyes crinkle up and the way she’d tip her head back and let her hair cascade down her shoulders. “So what was the problem, then?”

Courtney raised her eyebrows. “He wasn’t really vegan. He just eats quorn sometimes. I took him to a vegan restaurant and he looked so horrified at the lack of meat.”

The both of them laughed quietly. Courtney looked awkward, as if she was about to say something else. Willam felt her heartbeat through her chest. She knew that Courtney was holding back on something and so she was almost afraid to say anything in case she backed off.

“Besides,” Courtney mentioned, her gaze firmly fixed on the floor. “He could tell…that I wasn’t over somebody.”

“Oh,” Willam said. It was as if her body couldn’t keep up with everything. One minute she was worried sick about Sharon, the next she was almost going into cardiac arrest because Courtney had basically dropped a massive hint.

Courtney had raised her gaze and fixed it on Willam. “Somebody being you.”

“Right.”

Courtney laughed. “I thought I’d spell that out for you, because you’re a massive fucking moron.”

Willam coughed out a laugh. “I am.”

Courtney smiled a little, looked at Willam expectantly for a beat, then looked again to the floor. Willam panicked. She couldn’t risk losing Courtney again.

“Well…I’m not over you either,” she said quietly, watching as Courtney’s eyes snapped up to face her. Maybe Courtney had been missing her as much as she’d been missing Courtney.

Courtney gave a little smile. “I know.”

Willam obviously looked taken-aback because Courtney burst out laughing, which made Willam start laughing too. As the laughter died down, all that was left was the pair of them looking into each other’s eyes. Just as Willam was about to speak and just as it looked as if Courtney was about to too, the barista yelled Courtney’s order. Courtney jumped up and grabbed the little cardboard tray of three coffees with one hand, then turned to Willam, smiled and gave a little shrug. Just then, her phone vibrated again.

“Bianca’s upstairs with Sharon and Alaska. There’s someone from Scotland Yard with her,” Willam explained as she looked at her phone. Courtney nodded.

“That’s the fun over then,” she quipped, moving towards the exit. Willam’s silence prompted Courtney to look towards her, her expression concerned. “Willam. It’ll be fine.”

Willam mustered a small smile as she walked towards the lifts. She was so lost in thought and worry that she almost didn’t notice Courtney transfer the tray of drinks to her right hand and silently curl her left hand around Willam’s own.

***

It was six o’clock in the morning, and Willam was exhausted. She’d never been questioned by the police before, and she never wanted to be again. They were sympathetic but relentless, and with each question Willam felt more and more useless. How much had Sharon had to drink? What was the precise time that it had happened? Whereabouts in the road was she standing? How fast was the car going? What was its number plate? What was the make of car? What was the colour? What did the driver look like? What did the driver do after they hit Sharon? Which way did they continue driving? Every question was one that Willam felt she couldn’t properly answer. They asked her some questions about the previous death threats, and who she felt might have been behind them- did Sharon have any enemies, and suchlike. Apart from blaming most of the UK’s far right population, Willam had said she wasn’t sure.

She and Bianca had been taken to a station nearby to the hospital, and she emerged from the small questioning room tired and simply wanting to go to bed, but knowing that she would return to the hospital to stay with Alaska and Courtney. She wasn’t really in the mood to speak much to Bianca, and for once Bianca didn’t seem as if she wanted to chat much to her.

“How were they with you?” Bianca asked, rising from the chair she’d been sitting on in the police waiting room as she saw Willam emerge.

“Fine. Didn’t feel very helpful, though,” Willam said, sighing as she walked with Bianca. “I should have written the number plate down, or looked harder at the car, or tried to get a look at the driver.”

Bianca frowned deeply. “Willam, you can’t blame yourself.”

They walked out of the station and down the small, quiet road which was starting to become bathed with morning sunlight. Willam turned to look at Bianca. In all her time working with her, she’d never seen her look so troubled.

Seeing Willam’s concerned look, Bianca exhaled. “I couldn’t keep it from going to the papers. There’s articles online now, and it’ll be on the front pages. We stuck the TV on in Sharon’s room and it was all over News 24. I’m sorry, Willam, I couldn’t protect her.”

“It’s alright, Bianca,” Willam sighed, stopping as she got to the junction. A big black car was waiting at a stop sign, presumably Bianca’s. The spin doctor looked troubled as she gazed to the car.

“It’s getting dragged into politics already.”

Willam cursed under her breath. This was all they needed, Sharon’s accident getting turned into a points-scoring exercise by different parties. “What are people saying?”

“Some of it’s nice. Most of the party have rallied round without me even having to give them a line. Latrice has given a statement, as has Trinity. Shea has tweeted support, so’s Sasha, Peppermint and Maxine. Ironically Sharon getting run over by a car is the most uniting thing she’s done for the party. If I’d known I would have hired her a hitman ages ago,” Bianca laughed bitterly. Her face turned grave. “It’s Mrs fucking Blind Man’s Crumpet herself.”

“Fucking Phi Phi,” Willam hissed, surprising herself with how much venom was in her voice.

“She’s spoken with ITV and she’s given the whole wobbly top lip expressing condolences thing, but she’s trying to turn it into an attack on immigrants.”

“Fuck, did she stretch before she reached? What the hell does that have to do with anything?” Willam complained, deeply irritated.

Bianca frowned. “Because The Sun, the paper we all love to line our cat litter trays with, is alleging that the hit and run was a terrorist incident carried out by an Asian man.”

Willam tore her hands through her hair. “But that’s bullshit, surely? Nobody knows who did it, the police don’t even know who did it!”

“They have a source,” Bianca said. “Which means that either it’s a bullshit source, their usual currency, or that the suspect has leaked it themself.”

“God, Bianca, this is fucking madness.”

Bianca looked at the pavement awkwardly, then at Willam. “Look, I wasn’t going to mention it to you today given the massive amount of stress you’ve already been put through, but we need something on Phi Phi’s party to distract from this mess. If you have anything…well, we’d all appreciate it. Especially Number 10, if you get me.”

Willam momentarily wished she was lying sleeping on a hospital bed instead of Sharon.

“Okay,” she simply nodded once, her mind too full of words to say anything else. Bianca nodded back in goodbye and walked towards her car. Willam watched her climb in and drive off before beginning her own walk back to the hospital. On the way she saw people walking to work, some of whom gave her funny looks. She wondered if they all knew what had happened, until she realised she was still in her clothes from last night- green fur jacket, black lace crop top, tight black skirt without tights and platform trainers on her feet.

Before long she was back at the hospital and in the lift up to the ICU. As she found Sharon’s room, it was almost as if the past hour or so hadn’t happened as the girls were still in the same position- Sharon unmoving on the bed, Alaska staring at her and holding her hand, and Courtney with her phone in her hand texting furiously. Alaska and Courtney looked up as Willam entered the room.

“Hey,” Courtney said, her eyes slightly wide in anticipation. “How was it?”

“It was okay. They asked me a bunch of things I couldn’t answer and then a couple of things I could. I just felt like a fucking failure, like I was no help at all.”

“Stop it,” Courtney frowned, chastising her. “You’re not a failure at all. I bet you were really helpful. Here, come sit. You must be shattered.”

With that, Courtney rose from her chair and beckoned Willam to sit. Too exhausted to protest, Willam slid into it. She looked at Sharon, then Alaska.

“Anything?”

Alaska sighed deeply. “Nothing. She hasn’t even moved.”

Worry churned in Willam’s stomach. Courtney piped up. “The doctor was in though, and he said that sometimes it can help to talk to them even if they’re not responding.”

“Did you try it?”

Alaska chuckled. “We read her some of Heat magazine.”

“Oh, good, she’d have loved that,” Willam said dryly, causing Courtney to snort. Willam thought for a moment, then turned back to Alaska. “Well, when she wakes up, you’ll be sitting there. She’s not properly seen you for ages. Why don’t you talk to her? Explain your side of everything that’s happened.”

Willam looked to Courtney for approval, who shrugged. “Worth a try, Lask.”

Alaska took a deep breath, laughed a little self-consciously, then turned to Sharon.

“Hey babe,” she began, looking at Willam and Courtney in embarrassment, then back to Sharon. “God, this is just…literal torture seeing you like this. Somehow I just feel like all of this is my fault, maybe if I’d stayed with you then you wouldn’t have gone out with Willam and none of this would have happened. I’m an absolute dick, really, because I’ve been ignoring you and every single attempt you’ve made at trying to contact me and then Willam phoned me and told me about what happened and all I could think about was getting here and being with you. It was the worst fucking moment of my life, Sharon. I kept torturing myself and wondering what if she never wakes up, that the last contact I had with you was over some fucking stupid USB stick that I didn’t even want to give to you in the first place? And I couldn’t even tell you-”

Willam looked up as Alaska sniffed. Tears were running down her face and welling in her eyes, and Alaska used the hand that wasn’t holding Sharon’s to wipe at her nose.

“I couldn’t even tell you want I wanted to tell you- that I wanted to just put everything aside and make up with you, to stop our stupid fucking fight, to tell you that I never wanted to end things with you and that the whole thing was a horrible, stupid mistake,” Alaska sobbed, snuffling and taking a deep breath in. “And I couldn’t even tell you that I loved you- that I love you- and when I got that call I was so fucking terrified of never being able to say it to you again. Do you remember when we first said it to each other, Sharon? It was the night we went out for dinner at that Italian restaurant at like, eleven o’clock after I’d gone with you to Newsnight, and you walked me back home and we watched a film- The Other Woman- and you hated it, and you were making all these jokes about it and I was joining in and we laughed so much that when it died down and we just looked at each other I couldn’t help but say it. And you said it back right after? Why can’t we go back to the way things were? Fuck, I would have kept our relationship secret for a lifetime if it meant we could have just stayed together. In fact fuck, if it means so much Sharon, I won’t pursue the whole MP thing. You’re more important to me than my job, you’re more important to me than life. I love you more than anything or anyone I’ve ever loved in my life so please…”

Alaska took a big gulp of air. “…please, fuck, get better.”

Willam and Courtney stood in a horrible, cold silence as they watched Alaska cry quietly to herself. Suddenly, Willam gave a slight jump as Sharon’s free hand came up to her face and slowly lifted the oxygen mask to one side.

“You are becoming an MP, bitch,” she croaked hoarsely, causing Alaska’s gaze to shoot up to look at her girlfriend. “There’s no way you’re giving up on that just because I’m in a hospital bed.”

Willam choked a laugh as she looked at Alaska, her face at once shocked and relieved. She looked slightly as if she didn’t know what to do for a moment, then elected to burst out crying, bringing Sharon’s hand up to her face to kiss it over and over again. Sharon laughed- tiredly, weakly, but it was a laugh nonetheless.

“Jesus Christ, you took your time there,” Willam smiled, part of her wanting to cry in relief too.

“How long have I been out for?” Sharon asked, coughing as she sat up.

“Since about 1. It’s like, 6.15 now.”

“Shit,” she said, her voice weak.

“How are you feeling?” Courtney asked, visibly relieved too.

“Like someone’s kicked me half to death. Pain meds do shit all, I feel like shit but also incredibly high,” Sharon wheezed, then turned to Alaska. Her face softened and judging by Alaska’s reaction, she had squeezed her hand. “Hey, stranger.”

Alaska laughed through her tears. “Hey.”

Sharon smiled affectionately. “Is this all I had to do to get you back, then? Get run over?”

“Don’t,” Alaska half-laughed, half-cried, then kissed Sharon’s fingers. “Sharon, I’m so sorry. Oh my God, I was so fucking worried.”

“Yeah, I know. I heard it all. I could have said something halfway through, I just wanted you to keep saying more nice things about me,” Sharon joked, still her old self despite the tubes and drips and machines. Her expression grew dark as she turned to Courtney. “Oh, by the way. Never read me fucking any women’s magazine ever again. Hearing about Natalie Cassidy’s fucking colonoscopy was more painful than getting struck down.”

All four of the girls laughed, happy to be together with everyone conscious and cheerful all over again.

“Bianca’s been round. And people have said nice things. Trinity, Peppermint, Latrice, Max, Shea, Sasha,” Willam mentioned, thinking it would cheer Sharon up. Sharon smiled in a lazy, drugged-up-on-pain-meds way.

“God. All that in five hours? Did Bianca leave flowers?”

“No, of course not,” Alaska sighed. Then she laughed. “She stuck News 24 on.”

The girls all laughed again, this time quieter. Courtney took a deep breath and stretched. Sharon narrowed her swollen eyes at her.

“Are we boring you, Act?”

Courtney gave a smile. “Listen, I’ve been up a long time. It’s hard to squeeze a date, a trauma and a relief into one night. Slash…morning.”

“Oh yeah, how did that go?” Alaska asked pleasantly. She’d still not let go of Sharon’s hand, Willam noted with a smile.

“It was nice. We’re going to stay friends, though.”

Sharon looked at Willam meaningfully. Willam gave her a look that simply said, behave.

“Fair enough. I think me and Alaska are going to stay friends too,” Sharon smiled lazily, laughing as Alaska’s face grew bashful.

“Stop it. I’ve suffered enough,” she leaned her head over to nuzzle it into the crook of Sharon’s neck, one of the few parts of her that didn’t have wires or tubes coming in or out of it.

“I know, baby, I’m sorry.”

Alaska frowned and lifted her head off of Sharon’s shoulder momentarily. “This isn’t the broken collarbone, is it?”

Sharon laughed. “I broke a collarbone? Oh, well, fucked if I know. Everything hurts.”

Willam laughed. She stretched and yawned. Life and normal routine seemed so far away. “I think I should go home and sleep, now that I know you’re alright.”

“Me too,” Courtney said, giving a yawn that Willam could tell was fake. Why was that?

“You guys go ahead. I’m going to stay here for a while,” Alaska smiled at Sharon, the other woman returning her smile and shrugging.

“You can go home if you want, babe. I might have another snooze.”

“Well, I’ll snooze with you,” Alaska said matter-of-factly, shuffling her chair forward and resting her head on Sharon’s side. Sharon smiled and used her other hand to stroke Alaska’s hair.

Willam looked at Courtney, taking her cue to leave. She cast her gaze back to the couple. “I’ll be back when I’ve had a sleep and something to eat. Bianca might be back, just to warn you.” She wondered if she should mention the shit with Phi Phi. She decided not to.

“Oh, goody,” Sharon sighed, re-adjusting her oxygen mask so that it was over her face as a goodbye. Alaska waved sleepily to her friends and then Willam left the room, followed by Courtney. They walked down the corridor silently for a minute, neither one of them sure of what to say. Courtney’s words from earlier swirled around in Willam’s mind, and the fact that the two of them were alone together again, with so much possibility and opportunity of things that could be said, made Willam’s skin prickle in excitement and optimism.

As if she could read Willam’s mind, Courtney gave a small sigh as they both walked into the open air. She turned to face Willam and looked her in the eyes. “I know it sounds stupid, but I could really murder a glass of wine.”

“Same.”

Courtney was still looking at her. “Well, I’ve got wine at my place, if you want to come.”

Willam didn’t hesitate. “Okay. Sounds good.”

They talked about trivial things on the walk to the tube, and on the tube itself. The elephant in the room (or train carriage) was enormous and almost suffocating, and the sound of the train against the electric charges almost mirrored the electricity that seemed to run through Willam’s veins - Courtney isn’t over me, and I’m not over her.

It was almost seven o’clock in the morning by the time they got to Courtney’s flat, but the sheer adrenaline that was pumping through her heart was keeping Willam awake. As Courtney opened her front door for Willam and slipped off her shoes, Willam looked around at the small hallway. It had been around four months since she’d last been here, but nothing had changed. It was somehow reassuring to Willam. She followed Courtney into the kitchen where the other girl had pulled out two bottles of wine- an unopened red with a somewhat dusty bottle, and a half-full white with that fresh-from-the-fridge wet glaze.

“I like either, so it’s your pick,” Courtney smiled easily, making Willam wonder whether or not she was feeling the same mix of apprehension and excitement.

“Well, white’s going to make us feel less guilty about the fact we’re drinking wine when we’re normally getting ready for work,” Willam shrugged, Courtney snorting a laugh and fetching two glasses from a cupboard below her breakfast bar. She picked up the glasses in one hand and the bottle in the other and made her way through to the living room, Willam following behind her. As they slumped down on the sofas and Courtney poured the wine out, Willam sighed.

“I’m so fucking relieved she’s okay.”

Courtney looked at her, an expression on her face that Willam couldn’t make out. “I just can’t believe it all actually happened. It’s like a horrendous nightmare,” she lifted up her glass. “To Sharon being alive.”

Willam smiled lazily and echoed the sentiment. “To Sharon being alive.”

There was silence for a moment as they both took a sip, Willam watching the early morning sun bathe the skyline out of Courtney’s French doors.

“Do you think…it was deliberate?” Courtney spoke quietly, Willam looking at her only to find Courtney was looking at the view as well.

“Fuck, I don’t know. The police think so. Could be, or it could be a jittery driver with a guilty conscience who didn’t want to stop.”

Courtney nodded, then narrowed her eyes. “Didn’t the doctor say she was lucky to be alive? Ten miles an hour more and she wouldn’t have made it. If it was a main road and the car wasn’t going that fast, it kind of sounds like someone was parked waiting for her. Do you not think?”

Willam rolled her eyes. “Or it was just someone that wasn’t driving very fast.”

“On a main road like that at 1am? Willam, come on.”

Willam couldn’t help but laugh. “What is this, CSI: Sydney?”

Courtney walloped Willam on the arm, then laughed with her. She sighed. “I’ve just been sitting waiting with Alaska for so long that I’ve had all of these thoughts running around my head, but of course I couldn’t share them with her. I’m glad you came back with me.”

Willam’s heart gave a jump. She wanted to say something in response, something flirty that didn’t come on too strong, but her mind couldn’t conjure anything up.

Courtney spoke again, and Willam noticed she had that same look on her face as before. “So how come you were,” she paused the tiniest amount. “…out with Sharon anyway?”

“She suggested it. Probably thought it’d cheer us both up,” Willam shrugged, taking another sip. She noticed Courtney still hadn’t taken that look off her face. What did she want from her?

Honesty?

“Court, you should probably know. And I probably should’ve told you sooner. Me and Sharon had this whole thing when we were at uni,” Willam felt herself just coming out with it and it was like jumping out of a moving vehicle. Courtney’s expression finally relaxed.

“Okay.”

Willam picked at a stray thread on a sofa cushion. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“Because I’m not,” Courtney said plainly, taking a small sip. She paused, then added, “You always had this weird tension between you when you started. Like you really weren’t keen on her and I couldn’t see why. She always seemed as if she was walking on eggshells slightly around you. It only really seemed to go away…gosh, I don’t know when. But I always wondered why you were like that with her.”

Willam looked out at the view again. “I tried to reset my own view of the whole situation. I told anyone who asked that I knew her from uni, and that wasn’t a lie, but just not the full truth either.”

There was a small silence. Courtney leant over to top up their glasses. As she was pouring, she spoke again. Willam noticed how level and nonchalant her voice was, as if she was making a particular effort not to sound too interested. “So what was it that went on between you?”

Willam exhaled. Even after she’d talked through it all with Sharon, she still didn’t know what they’d been. “A miscommunication. She thought we were just friends that fucked, which we were. I saw it as more than that. I was a young, naive little bitch and I just got too deep in my feelings. It’s fucked, though, because the whole thing just made me so scared of relationships. Like what if it ever happened again to me and I was into it but the other person wasn’t?”

Courtney nodded understandingly. Her eyes were soft. It was scary to Willam to be telling Courtney all of this, but she didn’t seem to be scared off by it.

“Wonder how that feels, to be really, really into someone only to find out that they weren’t on your wavelength about it at all.”

“It was-” Willam started, then stopped as realisation dawned on her. She looked at Courtney, who was trying to conceal a smile. Willam laughed apologetically. “Fuck.”

Courtney gave a soft laugh, reaching out and taking Willam’s free hand. She held it gently. The gesture almost broke Willam’s heart. All at once it hit her just how badly she’d fucked up with Courtney. Only now was she realising that she had put Courtney in the exact same position that she had been in with Sharon all those years ago. Looking at Courtney’s hand, she squeezed it tightly. “Courtney, I’m sorry. I mean it.”

Courtney gave a peaceful smile. “I know you are.”

Willam smiled back. A small weight on her heart noted that she’d not been forgiven, only acknowledged, but after the past fortnight or so, acknowledgement was better than nothing.

“What was Bianca saying anyway?” Courtney continued, sipping her wine again. Willam sighed deeply.

“Well, you know that Phi Phi’s trying to politicise everything already. Bianca wants something on her party to take the heat off Sharon.”

Courtney grimaced and shook her head. She still hadn’t let go of Willam’s hand. “Jesus Christ, it’s all so messy and gross and tasteless.”

“I know, Court, but it’s our career. It was bound to happen. Politician gets hit by car, it turns political. Politician does anything, it turns political,” Willam shrugged, taking a drink. The sun was higher in the sky now and it was illuminating Courtney’s hair so beautifully.

“What are we supposed to get for her? This situation’s already stressful enough as it is.”

Willam felt herself tense up. She allowed herself to confront what she’d been pushing to the back of her mind all this time. She still had those photos on her phone of Roxxxy and Detox from all those months ago at Alyssa’s ball, and Phi Phi had recently voted against an LGBT-inclusive curriculum in secondary schools. How would the media react if she’d unknowingly voted against a policy which showed disapproval towards her own two advisors?

“I have something,” Willam stated simply, causing Courtney to sigh in relaxation.

“Thank Christ. Just give it to Bianca now and she can get out of our hair and let Sharon recover. What is it, anyway? Oil dumping in the Pacific? Foxhunting?” she laughed gently, stopping as she saw Willam’s grave face.

“Roxxxy and Detox,” she said. Courtney’s face dropped, her wine glass tipping over a little and threatening to spill. “I got photos of them at Alyssa’s ball, together. It would make Phi Phi look like a massive idiot and would take her down more than a few pegs…” Willam let all the air out of her body and looked into her glass. “…but it also outs both of her advisors.”

Courtney looked sick. “Oh God. Willam, you can’t do that.”

“I know,” she shook her head and wondered if she could voice the other horrible thought in her head. Communication could be good right now, she supposed. “Although part of me thinks why not? Fuck them, you know? They were both absolute cunts to Alaska, they work for a fucking sycophant. And I just…ugh…I really want that Number 10 job, and Bianca heavily implied that any info on this could get me it.”

She looked hesitantly for Courtney’s reaction. It turned out there were a lot of them. First, she wrinkled her nose and scrunched up her face in a brief display of disgust. Then, her expression completely dropped as if she was considering something. Finally she put her glass down, reached out to take Willam’s hand in her own, and gazed at her kindly.

“Willam,” she began. “Why do you want this job so much?”

Willam gave a choked laugh. “I mean it’s…it’s my fucking dream, Courtney. It’s all I’ve ever wanted out of life, to get to Number 10, to actually say I work there. I’ll have finally made it…and not many people can say that.”

“Okay,” Courtney nodded. Willam could tell she was listening intently. “So…you get the job at Number 10, let’s say. And what then?”

Willam blinked. “What do you mean?”

“What then? What do you aim for, what do you aspire to be after that? If that’s your life’s dream and it’s already achieved? Bill, you’re not even 30 yet,” Courtney smiled gently, tucking a piece of Willam’s layers behind her ear. “If you complete your life’s goal and you’re not even at the halfway point…what happens then?”

Willam felt completely blank. “Well, I…”

Courtney continued. “I know you don’t want to be PM, because you’re happy in the background. I know you don’t have any designs on leadership for the same reason. So what else is there?”

Willam paused and thought, trying to summon up something. “Bianca’s going to have to retire at some point.”

Courtney barked a laugh. “And what, you take her job? You take the job that consumed Bianca’s life so much she ended up getting divorced and she now lives on her own with no family? You want that life?”

Willam felt as if she’d heard Courtney’s voice catch in her throat. She was looking at her almost pleadingly, hopefully, desperate for what she deigned the right answer. Her intensity unsettled Willam. Or perhaps it was the truth in all that Courtney was saying? She’d never once reconsidered her determination to get to Number 10, never once wavered in her decision-making, because if she changed her mind about the job she’d wanted for so long, what was left?

“What do you have at Dosac? You’ve got me, you’ve got Sharon, you’ve got Alaska and the other girls. You’ve got a considerable amount of influence, you’re a big fish in a small pond. Other departments know your name, you’ve got so many opportunities. And if you change now…all that will be gone.”

Willam looked out of the windows again. The sun was now directly at her eye level. She turned back to Courtney and frowned at her. “Why are you saying all this, Court?”

Courtney looked away as if Willam’s gaze had burnt her. “I’m not trying to stop you from going after what you want, Willam. That would make me a horrific friend and an even worse person. I’m just trying to get you to be sure that it really is what you want.”

Willam’s voice caught in her throat. She looked away from Courtney, drained her glass, then placed it gently on the coffee table in front of them both.

“I should probably go home-” Willam began, making to slide off the couch, but Courtney gripped tighter to her hand. Turning, Willam saw a need in Courtney’s eyes that she’d never once experienced before.

“Stay,” she said simply. It was so quiet but so strong, and the blood in Willam’s veins was freezing and icy but pumping so rapidly like an ice cold waterfall, and she could feel her heart plummeting with it.

“Why?” Willam asked, and as soon as it left her mouth she cursed herself for it, but a part of her wanted to hear Courtney say what was on her mind. Frowning and sighing a tiny, needy sigh, Courtney gently tugged at Willam’s hand.

“I just need to be…close to you just now. Because I’ve fucking missed you.”

Willam looked at her hand in Courtney’s, then met her eyes.

Now or never.

And in one fluid movement Willam was back on the sofa, both her hands fisted and tangled in Courtney’s blonde hair, melting and moaning into a kiss full of fire that Willam wanted never to end.

***

Willam woke up in the same bed she’d woken up in in December, with the same girl she’d woken up with in December. Except the circumstances weren’t quite the same. Instead of grey skies and pouring rain, the sun that poked through the blinds was golden and warm, lighting up the room. Courtney was still in the bed, her eyes shut with her dark lashes fanned out and framing them as she slept. Probably the biggest difference, though, was that both of them were completely naked.

Sex with Courtney was every bit as amazing as Willam had imagined it would be, and she was already sorry that she couldn’t remember every single second of the entire thing in detail. She could swear that nobody else, not even Sharon, could make her feel the way Courtney had made her feel last night. She had expected it to be good and for Courtney to know what she was doing, but what she didn’t expect was for Courtney to have a mouth like a phone sex chat line girl and she had actually almost laughed in awe of the stuff she was coming out with. She didn’t know if it was the intensity of the situation that fed into it- there were so many emotions that Willam had been put through last night (or this morning, she supposed) that she had almost cried once everything was over and Courtney was holding her in her arms, but she hadn’t. She’d been calm, and happy, like her life was finally at peace. Sharon was going to be alright, and Courtney had…what? Courtney had forgiven her? Courtney liked her again? Courtney wanted to be more than her friend? She didn’t know, but she got the feeling that whatever it was was positive.

Willam wondered whether or not to wake her up but Courtney quickly solved that problem as her arm reached out to grab Willam by the waist and pull her closer, Courtney nuzzling into her side sleepily.

“Hey,” she murmured through a yawn, kissing Willam’s skin and making her feel as if she was 19 years old with a melting, gooey heart all over again.

“G’morning,” Willam smiled, rubbing her eyes then remembering she hadn’t taken off any of her makeup from the night before. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Mm. Always sleep like a baby after sex, I think it’s some weird nympho-narcoleptic thing I need to see a doctor about.”

Willam’s heart hammered in her chest and instantly woke her up more. “So we’re just coming out and addressing that that happened immediately?”

Courtney hurriedly sat up in bed and looked her in the eye, exasperation on her face. She’d foregone pulling the duvet up to cover herself and her boobs were fully out. “Uh, we’re both stark bollock naked, dipshit. How much more addressing of the situation could there be?”

“Yeah I know, fuckhead!” Willam snapped, a laugh bubbling in her throat. “I just don’t…I don’t know what this means now? Like what are we?”

Courtney half-laughed, half-sighed then pulled a pillow over her face and yelled into it. “Fuck! I don’t know, Willam, okay?”

Willam was smiling, but she simultaneously felt as if she was hanging by a thread. She watched as Courtney pulled the pillow off her face then rolled over and pulled her close.

“Cards on the table, I really fucking like you. I’ve never stopped liking you. I care about you, and I want to see you do well, and I like us when we’re together. We just work, we fit. We squabble at times, but it’s never malicious. But this job…it’s a bitch, and I don’t want us ending up having to hide away or have our lives ruined by it like Sharon and Alaska. So I don’t…” Courtney sighed. Willam could see her pulse thudding rapidly under her skin by her wrist. “I don’t want to label us just now. I’m scared to. But can we just…can we at least be exclusive? Because I don’t want to share you with anyone else.”

Willam smiled and rolled her eyes. “As if I’d fucking want anyone else.”

Courtney nuzzled her head into Willam’s side, and Willam cast her eyes to the sun coming in through the blinds. She blinked quickly three times. “No, that sounds good. Exclusive but with no labels. I can do that. Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

“For what?” Courtney kissed Willam’s temple.

“For being a cunt to you.”

“You were a cunt to me?” Courtney pulled away, frowning. “Now that doesn’t sound like Willam Belli at all.”

Willam took that as a yes.

“No more games,” Courtney said quietly, gently stroking the palm of Willam’s hand with her finger.

“No more games,” Willam agreed.

It was 2 o’clock by the time they got back to the hospital to see Sharon, after they’d showered, dressed (Willam borrowing Courtney’s clothes again), had some breakfast and got the two tubes over. It was an unspoken plan- they hadn’t talked about whether they should stay at the flat, or go visit Sharon, or even go into work. There was only one place they really needed to be today. They’d talked and chatted and laughed just as they used to, but without any awkward tension and with extra added hand holding and light knuckle and cheek kisses. They’d wondered out loud whether it had been in poor taste to fuck within the 24 hours that they’d found out Sharon had been hit by a car, before deciding that it was probably what Sharon would have wanted and endorsed anyway.

When they arrived at Sharon’s ward, it was as if nothing had changed at all- Alaska seemingly hadn’t moved from her seat and was still sitting in it facing Sharon in her Winnie the Pooh pyjamas, while the other woman was still in bed but was propped up with pillows and had her oxygen mask on. She had a loving, dreamy look on her face and seemed to be listening to Alaska talk when Courtney and Willam arrived. Alaska turned around excitedly when they came in.

“Morning,” Willam smiled, moving to hug Alaska tightly and then Sharon markedly less so, in case Willam accidentally pulled a wire out. “Or afternoon, or whatever the fuck time it is.”

“Hey,” Sharon took her mask off and smiled gently.

“How are you feeling, Sharon?” Courtney asked as she took her turn to hug her.

“I’m holding up okay. I had a big sleep when you two left, woke up at like 9. Then me and Alaska had a massive chat which took about an hour and exhausted me, so I had a nap again. Woke up about an hour ago and Alaska had stuck on the news. It’s weird seeing myself on the news in a capacity which isn’t politics. I’m not in the mood for a lot of talking so Alaska’s just been telling me about her leadership campaign,” Sharon gestured to Alaska’s happy, excited face and smiled fondly. “Christ, she looks like she’s about to explode. I fucking love this girl so much.”

Willam made a vomiting sound as she pulled up a chair beside Alaska. “Gross. So your big chat. Did you both grow up and say sorry to each other?”

Willam saw Alaska squeeze Sharon’s hand. “Of course we fucking did. That was the first thing we said. Then we basically just cried and talked about how much we loved each other for the next 59 minutes.”

Courtney laughed, and Alaska gave a small giggle then shook her head as she looked at Sharon. “No, joking. Well, we did do that. But we also spoke about career stuff- what we wanted in the next five years, what we need to do to get there.”

“It’s doable for what we both want. We just need to support each other, make it two sided and communicate. I know that now,” Sharon piped up, smiling at Alaska as if it was for her benefit and not Courtney and Willam’s.

“Well, I’m glad you two have made up,” Courtney smiled softly, moving to perch on Willam’s knee in the absence of a chair. Willam pulled her close. She didn’t miss the look that passed between Alaska and Sharon.

“Um, on the topic of making up…” Alaska raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at them both. “…what is this?”

“Courtney sitting on my lap?” Willam said sarcastically, resting her head on Courtney’s back.

“Yes…” Sharon said, waving a tubed-up hand to prompt more. “So…?”

“So…what?” Courtney asked, just as deadpan as Willam had been, and she loved her for it.

“Oh fuck, put a dying woman out of her misery!” Sharon coughed out in exasperation, earning her a furious look and a gentle smack from Alaska.

“DON’T joke about that!” she glared at her for all of two seconds, before she took her hand and turned back to Courtney and Willam. “But seriously guys, Sharon’s only got one properly working lung, can you just give us the information that we both already know but want to scream like babies at when it comes from you?”

Courtney turned and looked at Willam, suddenly embarrassed. Willam gave her a squeeze and spoke for her. “Well, we’re going to disappoint you, because we’re not girlfriends. We can’t all fall in love with our work friends and go balls-deep into a relationship. But no, we’re just…”

“We like each other, and we’re exclusive, and we’re going to take it a day at a time,” Courtney finished, Alaska giving a small, excited squeal. Sharon smiled and rolled her eyes.

“Bo-ring! I want to know if you’ve banged yet.”

“Yeah, we did,” Courtney shrugged, Willam completely shocked at her blasé display of honesty but also too tired to care much. Sharon let out a loud cheer, then immediately started coughing violently in a sobering display that reminded the girls why they were all together in the first place. Seeing Alaska’s concerned face, Sharon frowned.

“I’m fine, it’s okay,” she wheezed, waving a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry. Just coughing up pieces of old lung, they say the new one should grow back within 3-5 working days.”

Alaska snorted. Willam laughed and shook her head. “You’re so fucking unfunny it hurts.”

Sharon shrugged. “Blame the pain meds, I’ve been popping them like Smints.”

They chatted quietly after that, the four of them just enjoying each other’s’ company without having to talk about work or politics or anything like that. Often Alaska would talk for Sharon, the other woman wearing her oxygen mask and resting. Alaska had phoned Jinkx and texted the comms girls to fill them in on what had happened, after they all basically woke up, saw the headlines and immediately fired off about fifty texts to Alaska, Courtney and Willam (none of which Willam saw, her phone having long since died.). Sharon was annoyed that Jinkx wouldn’t honour her request to bring in her work laptop so she could work from her hospital bed, a request which all three advisors were glad she’d shut down. They were all going to pop in at some point in the evening to visit, Adore and Katya promising to bring what they’d termed as “huge, inconvenient, inflatable balloons”. Willam had told Sharon about the Phi Phi incident, Sharon rolling her eyes almost to the back of her head but refusing to allow herself to get worked up over it.

“That’s a point, actually,” she said, sitting up in bed and wincing slightly at some unseen pain. “Didn’t you say Bianca would be visiting me soon? She’s not been in.”

“Well, she still has to oversee all the other departments. Maybe something’s happened with them?” Courtney offered, Sharon shrugging and conceding.

Around ten minutes later, they had their answer. Bianca came in to Sharon’s room dressed in her usual work attire, ironically all in black. Her face was serious but she had a small, kind smile, and was holding a box of Guiylan pralines.

“Christ, Bianca, I’ve not died,” Sharon laughed by way of a greeting, as Bianca cracked a rare, genuine smile and handed her the chocolates.

“Shut it. Some of us still have to go to work. How are you?”

“Sore.”

“That’s crap, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I didn’t swing by earlier. I’ve been at Number 10, I’ve been with the police, I’ve been into Dosac. This might be a bit of good news for you,” she said, addressing the room this time. “The police have apprehended a guy. Old woman who lives in the area had CCTV outside her flat. She came forward with footage of a car going well beyond the speed limit. Matches the time that the whole thing happened. They were able to get a number plate from it and traced it back to the fucker.”

Willam was in shock. She had no idea it would all happen so quickly. Looking at Bianca closely, she could see how puffy her eyes were and how her dark circles had been concealed with foundation, and how much her hands were shaking. It hit her how hard Bianca must have been working to help the police catch whoever had done this to Sharon.

“Thank you, Bianca,” she said, her voice coming out way more emotional than she’d meant it to. Bianca turned to her in surprise, as if she was taken aback slightly.

“Well, I mean, don’t thank me. The police did all the work. They’ll be in to question you, Sharon, but once you’re feeling a bit better. Maybe this evening, or tomorrow.”

“Oh, great. Reliving the moment a car hit me in all its horrifying detail, with the greatest hits of poison pen letters as a follow-up. All my fucky stars have come at once,” Sharon said. Her breathing was becoming laboured, so she put her oxygen mask back on.

“Just keep the damn thing on, you’ve had it off and on like a fucking lightswitch the entire time you’ve been awake,” Alaska chastised her, tucking the hospital blanket in around Sharon. “I’ll maybe see if there’s some way Jinkx can bring in your duvet.”

“You could always go get it for her,” Courtney suggested, Alaska laughing at the ridiculous suggestion.

“Yeah, good one Court, like I’m going to leave her side until she’s discharged.”

Bianca watched the whole exchange carefully, then opened her mouth. “So I take it…that you’re back together.”

Alaska looked at Sharon and nodded.

“You understand that I’m absolutely livid at the pair of you for ever beginning this in the first place and that if it had even got into the media you would have been out of a job?” Bianca said, pointing to Alaska. Alaska blinked and gave a small shrug.

“She would have been worth it,” she said, Willam noticing how Sharon squeezed Alaska’s hand. Bianca fake-gagged.

“Yes, well, in any case, I’m hearing you’ve got plans to stand in the by-election? Is that still happening?” Bianca asked. “Because if it is, then it would make my life a lot easier. There’s not nearly as many implications. In fact you could probably put you two into the public eye. Might be good for the party.”

Sharon wheezed a laugh and Alaska suppressed a smile. “God. Our relationship is literally politically correct. But yeah, I am standing. It’d be good to get some tips from you about that, actually.”

Bianca checked her phone as she spoke. “You don’t need tips. I’ll get you the support you need. Might as well start considering yourself an MP.”

Alaska smiled happily, bringing Sharon’s hand up to her face and kissing it in excitement.

“Although that does mean a position opening up at Dosac. Got anyone in mind, Sharon?”

Sharon sighed exasperatedly, ripping off her mask and gesturing to all her tubes and wires. “Funnily enough, no, I’ve been too busy being a human fucking colander!”

Willam smiled at Sharon knowingly. “I’ve got someone in mind. She’s young, and a bit fucking useless at the moment, but we could train her up. She’s got potential.”

“Well, that seems sorted,” Bianca shrugged. “Right, I’m going to have to make tracks. Flying visit. One of Trinity Taylor’s one night stands has gone to Closer magazine and we can’t risk that getting into the press. But take care, okay?”

Sharon waved a hand. “Thank you, Bianca.”

“No problem. See you later. Willam, can I borrow you for a second?”

Willam’s heart sank as she followed Bianca out of the room. She knew that Bianca was going to ask her if she had anything on Phi Phi. She knew that the photos were still in her phone, burning a hole in her pocket. She knew that Courtney didn’t want her to take the job at Number 10. She knew that her and Courtney weren’t at all official yet.

What she didn’t know was what she was going to do.

They stood at the side of the corridor beside the glass outside Sharon’s room, doctors and nurses hurrying past and completely oblivious to Willam about to make one of the biggest decisions of her life.

“So,” Bianca opened. “If you’ve got anything for me, now is the time to say, because the right-wing media are starting to lap up Phi Phi’s bullshit pretty fucking quickly. It would take a lot of the heat off Sharon if we could just…bury her.”

Willam felt pained. She had completely forgotten about the implications this would have for Sharon.

“So anything at all would be a saving grace,” Bianca finished, looking Willam in the eye and almost triggering a fight or flight response in her.

What would Courtney want her to do? What would Bianca want her to do?

What would Sharon want her to do?

“Um,” Willam swallowed. Her throat was completely dry. “You know, it’s been a rough 24 hours…I haven’t really managed to find anything.” Bianca looked visibly disappointed. “Sorry, Bianca.”

The other woman nodded understandingly. “That’s okay. It has been a rough time. Thank you for looking after her, Willam.”

Willam gave a small smile and without knowing what possessed her, she was speaking again. “Also, Bianca…take me out of the running for the Number 10 job.”

This was the first time Willam had ever seen Bianca look legitimately shocked in her life. Bianca always knew what was going on, she was always so plugged in and in the loop, there was so rarely anything that she didn’t know. So this information was clearly a bombshell. “I mean. I can, but I would also be asking why in the fuck would you want me to do that?”

Willam sighed. “I’m still young. There’ll be other chances to work there and besides, there’s other stuff I want to focus on right now. There’s more to life than politics, I guess.”

Bianca gave a harsh laugh. “Life is politics, Willam.”

“Your life, maybe.”

“Yeah, well,” Bianca exhaled. She had a faraway look in her eyes. “I suppose you’re right about that.”

Willam suddenly heard Courtney laugh through the glass and she involuntarily smiled. She looked back at Bianca, who was looking through the glass.

“Is this because of her?”

Willam looked back at the glass, then cocked her head. “Sort of. It’s for me first, and her second. People spend so much of their lives wishing for better, focusing so much on the future or on the past. Like…what’s wrong with what we have now? You know? Appreciate what you’ve got. Change is good. Except if it’s not. I don’t know, fuck, I’m so tired.”

Bianca nodded slowly, a tiny frown still present on her face. “You’re sure this is what you want?”

“Honestly, no,” Willam laughed. “But I’m sure I want things to stay as they are, for now. There’s going to be so much change in Dosac. It would be nice for me to stay a constant.”

Bianca gave a small sigh. “Well, I won’t say I’m not disappointed. But good for you, Willam.”

Willam shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I’ll see you, Bianca.”

“See you, Willam.”

As Bianca walked away, Willam thought it was the first time she’d ever seen her look genuinely gutted. It made her feel slightly proud of herself, though she had no idea why. Watching her until she was out of sight, Willam turned back and went back into Sharon’s room.

“Back,” she said. Sharon looked up at her, puzzled.

“What was that all about?” she frowned.

“Wanted to know if I had anything we could use on Phi Phi.”

“And did you?”

Willam looked at Courtney, who seemed frozen. She paused. “No. No, of course I didn’t. Been too busy making sure your dumb fucking roadkill ass is okay, haven’t I?”

As Sharon and Alaska laughed, Willam watched as Courtney’s face lit up. She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around Willam in a hug. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.

“Willam, I’ve been meaning to say. Thank you. For phoning the ambulance,” Sharon said, suddenly serious. Her voice was quiet and her face grave.

Willam reached out and touched her leg lightly. “That’s what best friends do.”

Sharon smiled in gratitude, then gave a yawn. “Sorry to be boring, but I think I need to sleep again.”

“Well, we’ll leave,” Courtney smiled, her voice gentle. “I kind of want to go for a walk round the park. It’s such a nice day. You fancy joining us, Lask?”

Willam barely had time to bask in the use of “us” before Alaska rolled her eyes.

“What part of I’m-not-leaving-Sharon’s-side do you not understand? Go,” she smirked, looking at Willam and Courtney hand in hand. “Be cute and gross.”

Willam smiled at Courtney sheepishly, and Courtney smiled back. She turned back to the other couple in the room. “We’ll be back around dinnertime. Want us to bring you anything?”

“Ugh, a Wasabi please. Lunch was mush, with mashed mush, on a bed of mush. It’s enough to turn me vegetarian,” Sharon shook her head before laying down on her pillow and closing her eyes. “Thanks for coming in. See you later, guys.”

“See you both,” Courtney smied, waving at Alaska as she opened the door and Willam following behind her. Once they were out the room, they had taken a few steps down the corridor before Courtney spoke again. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Willam said as she pressed the button for the lift. She wondered if she should say any more, but thanks was enough, and she decided to leave it. “So. Park then home, then back to see Sharon?”

“Home,” Courtney gave a little smile as she looked at Willam. “Home sounds nice.”

And as the lift doors closed leaving them both sealed up together going down towards the bright Spring day outside, Willam had to agree.

***

Willam woke up in the same bed she’d woken up in in December, and in April, with the same girl she’d woken up with in December and April. Except the circumstances weren’t quite the same. Firstly, Courtney was out of bed before her, and Willam could hear her battering and clanging around in their kitchen together (their kitchen, Willam thought fondly to herself, it would never get old to say their like that). Second, Willam didn’t have any inner turmoil or panicked thoughts or insecurities running around her mind. She was peaceful and calm, and life was good. Sure, Sharon had a fucker of a TV debate coming up the next day, and Willam was afraid that her ribs might re-break at the sheer force with which she was going to shout at Phi Phi O’Hara, but apart from that everything was all just fine. She hadn’t felt this calm in forever. In fact, no, that was a lie. She’d woken up feeling this calm every single day for the past two months since the day she and Courtney walked out of that lift together. Sure, there were one or two blips- the day she’d asked Courtney to be her girlfriend she had woken up completely convinced she was having a heart attack- but that aside, she’d never felt this content.

“Bill!” came a voice from the kitchen. “Put it on!”

Willam sat up, groaned, and rubbed her eyes sleepily. “What channel?”

A frustrated sigh. “It’s Sunday fucking Politics, you know what channel!!”

Laughing, Willam fumbled for the remote on her bedside table, in danger of knocking over many half-empty cups of coffee, and switched the TV on. She hadn’t needed to find the channel as the TV immediately showed her what they were both looking for- Alaska Thunder, MP for West Central London, the first MP to take the seat from Phi Phi O’Hara’s party in 12 years, in her biggest TV interview so far.

“Court, it’s started!” Willam shouted through, hearing a thunder of footsteps in response. Soon enough her girlfriend, her beautiful, tiny, blonde koala girlfriend, emerged from the hallway in her huge flannel Snoopy pyjamas holding two cups of coffee.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” she was saying, reaching over and almost spilling half the coffee on the bright white bedsheets as she half-handed, half-threw it to Willam. “I said to you it bloody started at 5 past 10, and you took the piss out of me!”

“No I fucking didn’t!” Willam cried incredulously, laughing.

“Yes you so did! Meh Courtney, why would a programme start at five past ten that’s such an awkward time, meh meh meh why do you think it’s going to start then, is it because of the time delay? Is it because you’re Australian? Mehhh,” Courtney imitated Willam. Willam went to retort but was immediately shushed by her girlfriend.

“Shut up! I don’t want to miss any more.”

Raja Gemini was asking Alaska a question, and she had her don’t-fuck-with-me face on. “Alaska Thunder, what I’d most like to know is- why were you so strongly in favour of the incarceration of young offenders until last week, when your fiancé Sharon Needles came out in support of rehabilitation? Is this what we can expect from you as an MP, to simply agree with everything your fiancé says?”

“That bitch.”

“Shut up!”

Alaska’s face was calm and amused. “No not at all, Raja, see my change of heart was based on a consultation I had with the Minister for Justice Sasha Coulee-Velour, where she actually presented me with lots of facts and figures as to why rehabilitation produces better results and contributes to a reduction of repeat offenders in society. I then conducted a focus group who pretty much agreed with the Minister, so I have decided to back what is clearly the more well-researched opinion.”

“But isn’t it true that Sharon Needles has held no such focus groups and has point-blank refused to listen to any opposing opinion on the other side? How must that translate to the public?”

Alaska smirked and narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know, Raja. If you wanted to ask that question you should have invited her onto your show. You asked for me, you’ve got me, and now you’re asking me about my fiancé? Is this Hello magazine or Sunday Politics?”

Courtney threw her hands up in the air and cheered. “Finish her, Lask!”

Just then, Willam’s phone buzzed. It was a message from Sharon. Willam knew she had taken the morning off to go into the studio and watch Alaska do the interview and was probably hiding behind the cameramen as Alaska and Raja spoke.

S: i say, that’s my baby and i’m really proud

Willam snorted, holding her phone up to show Courtney who laughed in response.

“Fucking hell, who keeps introducing her to memes?” she sighed, pouting as she looked to the TV and saw the interview was coming to a close. “Oh fuck, we missed pretty much the whole thing!”

Willam pulled her into a hug. “Doesn’t matter. We saw the best bit. There’ll be more interviews where that came from. I think Alaska’s making quite the splash.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Courtney smiled, sipping her coffee then sliding off the bed. “What’s our plan for today? We’re meeting Katya and Trixie for lunch, then Adore’s joining for drinks. She said she might bring her girlfriend along!”

“Oh, Aja?” Willam asked, scrolling her phone lazily. “That’s good, she seems nice.”

“Well, I’m going to shower if you need in before me?” Courtney offered, unhooking her towel from the back of their bedroom door.

“Nah, no need. I always just piss in your charcoal water. You’d never taste the difference,” Willam deadpanned, smiling as she watched Courtney laugh and throw a makeup sponge at her from the door.

Courtney was so beautiful, even in her old pyjamas and with her hair hanging messily over her shoulders. Her smile did something to Willam, something she’d never felt before and never wanted to stop feeling ever again. What was the something? Suddenly, it was as if Willam had been struck by a lightning bolt. She knew, but she couldn’t possibly tell her. Not today and not now. It was far too soon, surely?

Then a little voice in her head whispered to her. No more games.

Willam’s voice stopped her just as she was about to leave the room.

“Hey, Courtney?”

[highroadsteve]

a growing pain — p.p.

a/n: this is the longest fic ive ever written, and it was going to be so much longer but i needed to put something out! im also working on something else that i am in love with so here u go while u wait ;)

pairing: peter parker x reader

warnings: language, angst

summary: your relationship that was headed on the right path took a wrong turn when Peter had gotten an internship

You and Peter were that couple. Your bond was unbreakable, the two of you were just two teenagers that had fallen in love. It was so smitten, the little kisses that you shared at random times, the laughter never ending, the mean (but meant in a sweet way) nicknames. It was obvious that the two of you were going to last forever.

It was a cliché story, really. You two grew up together along with Ned, going to the same schools throughout your lives. The three of you had chosen to go to Midtown School of Science and Tech, only because you all wanted to graduate and succeed together. When your teenage years had come along, you and Peter grew feelings towards each other and it had blossomed into a young but adorable relationship. The two of you were incredibly close, almost never leaving each other’s side for anything. The playful banter between the two of you was what kept your relationship from being cheesy, and more casual. From the meme references that the two of you shared to the ‘you’re so fucking cute, you loser’ type of communication, your relationship seemed to be going on the right path.

However, as cute as it was, your relationship was starting to come to an end. Well, not yet at least, but it began to feel that way as soon as Peter had started becoming distant.

Usually on days before assignments were due, the three of you guys would go over to someone’s place and work on the assignment together. This was honestly just an excuse to hang out but you all knew that you worked together perfectly anyway and at the end of the day, the work was done no matter what. When you all put your mind together, the work just became extremely easier and faster.

But recently, with Peter’s distant behavior, it was bound to happen that he would cancel on a hangout. Of course, the first times it was fine because he is probably busy; however, he bailed on you guys almost every single time and that’s when it started to irritate you.

“He canceled again.” You sighed, throwing your phone on your bed and looked at Ned sitting on the floor with his homework laid out in front of him. He rolled his eyes and put his pencil down on the notebook with a bit of force.

“Of course he did. Man, I’m so damn tired of this Y/N, like no offense to you because you’re super smart, but we work better when it’s the three of us.” You nodded with Ned’s statement, biting your lip with hesitance. You wanted to complain too, but you felt like maybe he had a good reason to cancel.

“Yeah, but I mean, maybe he really couldn’t come this time.” You responded to his comment and he threw his hands up in the air, widening his eyes in annoyance.

“You say that all the time Y/N! When was the last time you got to hang out with him?!” He looked at your face which was showcasing sorrow and a bit of regret, “yeah, it was probably weeks ago.”

Ned shook his head with another roll of his eyes and continued with his homework. You tapped your pencil slightly on the textbook that was sprawled on your lap, a small exhale escaping your lips before you went back to doing your work.

Peter had shown up to school the next couple of days, his eyes becoming heavier but nonetheless, it was still the same Peter. The jokes continued on, both you and Ned forgetting all about the tension towards Peter. Everything was going back to normal until Peter hadn’t shown up for a day.

You were in your room just listening to music and doing your nails. The volume of the music lowered down for a second, notifying you that you had gotten a text message. Walking over to your bed, with your unpainted hand, you grabbed your phone and sat down.

Peter didn’t fucking show up.

The text was from Ned and you had to admit, your blood started to boil. You were fine with Peter canceling on the work days, but this was different. Ned and Peter had a huge project that they’ve been working on for months and it was due the following day. Peter had promised that this time he wouldn’t cancel and he did, so now Ned had to finish the project all by himself.

I’m sorry.

The next day rolled around and Peter didn’t even go to school. Although you were slightly mad at him, your worry for him was more intense than anything. You convinced yourself that he was just sick and that he wasn’t just ditching because he wanted to. But deep down, you felt like that wasn’t the case because he would always text you during the school day if he was sick, so you ended up blowing up his phone with texts.

Peter where are you?

Why aren’t you at school?

You better have a good fucking explanation on why you ditched Ned.

Call me back, I love you.

The day continued on as normal, going to classes, paying attention, going to lunch, hanging out with Ned, and then finally going home. You threw your backpack at the corner of your room and then threw yourself on the bed, exhausted. Today had been both physically and emotionally draining for you. You checked your phone constantly, hoping you could get at least a smiley face from him, because then you’d know he was fine.

The doorbell had rang so you sighed and got up from the bed to go to the door. You looked through the peephole and saw Peter standing there, his hands in his pockets and his hair a mess. You quickly opened the door and stared at him, him staring back at you. He had a black eye and a bleeding lip, a nervous smile appearing on his face. You shook your head and jumped into his arms, wrapping your own around his neck and kissing him all over his face. He hugged you back and proceeded to kiss you on your lips, with happiness and relaxation engulfing his body.

“What happened? Are you okay?” You brought him into your house and closed the door, letting him sit on the couch in your living room. He sat down, exhaling a bit and looking up at you.

“I got an internship at Stark Industries.” He told you with a small smile. You furrowed your eyebrows, confused because he had never mentioned signing up for it.

“Stark Industries? As in Tony Stark? As in, the Iron Man?!” You practically yelled, starting to see how huge of an opportunity that would be for Peter to carry out his studies. He laughed softly and nodded. You smiled and hugged him, kissing him again before pulling away and looking into his eyes.

“I’m so proud of you.” He thanked you and smiled, bringing you in closer for another kiss. Everything was okay in the world at that moment, and you had completely forgotten about the fact that Peter was all bruised up.

Peter had told Ned about the internship and the three of you were always talking excitedly about it. Working with a freaking Avenger sounded like the coolest job on the entire fucking planet. The three of you admired him so much, trying your hardest to pursue the same career path that he is in. And Peter only being a teenager gave you and Ned hope that someday all three of you will be working together.

Peter had been skipping your hangouts a lot, but you and Ned both knew it was because of the Stark internship so you didn’t let it bother you. You knew he was working hard, doing whatever he is doing and putting his entire effort into it. And sometimes he has to choose between his personal life and his education, so you’re glad that he’s choosing his education because you all share the same moral of education coming first. The only problem that had finally arose was when Peter had gotten his report card.

It was a Friday morning and you, Ned, and Peter shared a class together where the teacher was handing out the updated grade book. You looked for your number on the list and flipped your hair sarcastically, pretending to brag about your grade because obviously you knew you were going to get an A. Ned saw his grade and made a fist, whisper-yelling a ‘yes’ while doing so. You laughed with him, giving him a fist bump and turning to look at Peter. He looked at his grade and shrugged, passing it to the next person.

“I got a C, ayyy.” He said in a sarcastic voice. You looked at him and frowned a bit because the Peter you knew would be crying and ranting about how it was a mistake.

“Uh...at least you’re passing dude.” Ned scratched the back of his head and Peter shrugged again, acting like he didn’t care. It was unbelievable, you were absolutely dumbfounded at the fact that this boy that you had to comfort before over a B plus, was brushing off a C as if it was nothing.

You ended up seeing his entire report card and it honestly had taken your breath away. It was after school and you two were sitting on the subway. He didn’t have a single A, the highest grade was an eighty-five percent and it was in Chemistry, also known as the only class Peter cares about. After looking at his grades, you looked up at him with a shocked look on your face, your mouth opened slightly.

“Peter, what the fuck?” You asked him and he looked over at you, puckering up his lips a bit and nodded. He shrugged again for like the thousandth time, not really caring about it.

“Your grades are amazing babe, I’m proud of you.” He smiled and placed your report card on your backpack that was on your lap, grabbing his own from your hands which stayed in the same position. You kept looking at him, not knowing what to do because this wasn’t Peter. There was no fucking way this is the boy you fell in love with. Yeah, he looks exactly like him and he makes the same jokes he does, but this isn’t fucking it. The Peter you love would be stressed out about the grades, he would do everything he could possibly do to bring up a B to an A. But this...this Peter isn’t your Peter. This Peter is out of his damn mind and you’re kind of getting tired of it.

“Peter, I don’t think you should be doing that internship if it means you’re getting these grades.” You stated with a sigh, shaking your head at him. He furrowed his eyebrows and looked at you with a confused smile.

“What do you mean? My grades are fine.” You blinked a couple of times because you just couldn’t wrap your head around the situation. Who the fuck was sitting right next to you because it sure as hell isn’t Peter.

“You know exactly what the hell I mean, Peter. You don’t have a single A for fuck’s sake!“ You raised your voice a bit, but keeping yourself as calm as you could be because after all, you are in love with this kid. And you’re in a train with other passengers.

“Mr. Stark said C’s get degrees, Y/N. It’s all good. I’m not going to fail in life because of a few bad grades.” He laughed slightly and put his arm around you. You gently grabbed it and removed it from your shoulders, sighing.

“Look, Peter. I know you’re so fucking excited over this internship, and if it’s something you want to do, then by all means go for it. I’m not going to hold you back. Just, don’t forget about where your priorities are.” You looked up and held eye contact with him. He nodded slowly and whispered a small ‘I know’ before kissing you on the lips, putting his arm around you once again.

Life keeps going on, and Peter is still behaving the same way, and you were starting to get annoyed. He was skipping classes and having Tony Stark sign him off as excused because he has the power to do almost anything, obviously. So you would be sitting in class, doing your work with Peter when your teacher would get constant phone calls, excusing Peter to go home. He would get out of his seat excitedly and shoot you a quick wave before leaving you alone to finish the assignments.

You and Ned would hang out after school almost all the time, planning the same study dates you used to do with Peter, and just getting to know each other better. You were starting to prefer hanging out with Ned over Peter, only because Peter would only be on his phone when he was with you, hoping to get a call or text from the infamous Iron Man, resulting in one sided conversations between the two of you. During the times Peter would be at school, he would do the same thing with his phone and you would have to direct your stories to Ned, who would actually be listening.

The school year had finally ended and you were completely dreading the summer. The year before, you, Peter, and Ned would take trips to the beach or to a theme park, having the time of your lives together and creating amazing memories. But this year, Ned went on vacation for the summer and you were left alone at your house, only having your bed as your company.

The loneliness that you felt daily was definitely the worst moments you experienced during the summer. They were moments where Peter would stop texting you for hours and you would lay on your bed, scrolling through social media and intrusive thoughts getting into your head. You started overthinking your relationship with Peter and it was breaking your heart with every second that passed.

Was it even worth it to keep this going? Do I really love him as much as I did? Yes, I care about him, but it feels like I don’t know him anymore. Why am I always the one making sure we hang out? Does he even love me?

Days were spent on your ideas of what to do to help save your relationship. You thought about the pros and cons about breaking up, and the pros were always surpassing the cons. You were laying in bed with tears in your eyes and aching in your chest, because this isn’t what you wanted at all but being together was just creating a burden on your entire life. Your effort was exceeding Peter’s and you hated it, you didn’t want to feel like you’re the only one who actually wants the relationship to last. So after countless days of arguing with yourself, you finally came to the decision that it was time to break it off.

Come over now. Emergency.

You heard a quick knock at your front door. Your heart rate sped up incredibly fast and you started to feel cold flashes erupt throughout your entire body. You took a deep breath and with a shaky hand you opened the door.

”Are you okay?!” He asked when he saw you. His heart was racing for a completely different reason than you, his worry for you was clearly evident in his eyes. You shook your head, your lip quivering slightly and your throat tightening up, a sign that you were about to start bawling. You guided him inside and you sat him down on the same spot as you did last time, standing up in front of him and taking a deep breath.

“Baby what’s wrong? You’re...you’re scaring me.” Peter looked up at your tear filled eyes that looked at anything but him, the frown on your face getting deeper by the second.

“We need a break.” You choked up, a tear slowly falling down your cheek. You glanced at him, seeing his eyes blink rapidly and his Adam’s apple slowly move up then down as he gulped.

“I-wh...what?” He was getting choked up as well, a sob threatening to spill out. But you couldn’t hold back anymore. Your hands flew to your face, the sob escaping your throat and making its way out until it was softened by your hands covering your mouth. You couldn’t control it, you couldn’t stop the sobs that were filling the air with tension and sadness. Peter got up quickly and wrapped you in his arms, only to have you gently push him away and shake your head.

“I can’t do this shit anymore, Peter! I can’t keep acting like you haven’t changed and that we’re still the same fucking couple we were a year ago. Hell, we aren’t even the same fucking friends we were years ago. You aren’t the same Peter and you know that I’m right. We can’t keep this game going because fuck, I can’t take it anymore. I can’t Peter, I can’t.” You were practically yelling at him, your face blushing, your tears flowing, and your nose running. He was crying as well, sniffing every once in a while and his lip was quivering. It killed you to see him like that, but you knew it was for the best. You knew it.

“Y-yes we can Y/N! I’ve been busy and I just...I can’t get out of it and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry baby, but I promise we can make it work. Please, look at me,” He got closer to you and gently placed his hands on your arms, putting his finger under your chin and making you look at him, “We can make it work. I still love you so fucking much.”

You looked at him and there were millions of thoughts going through your head. You were contemplating on whether it was a good idea to stay with him or not. You wanted to, fuck, you wanted to stay with him so bad. Right now it seemed like the best idea, maybe you could make it work. Maybe he will change and he won’t be as distant. Maybe you can be together after all.

But something inside you knew. It just knew that it wouldn’t work out. It’s going to be the same, you’re going to end up right back here in a short amount of time. You’re going to continue to feel the loneliness, you’re going to continue to feel the weight on your shoulders over this relationship. At the moment, it was amazing because you finally had Peter in your arms again, but you knew at one point he is going to leave, and he isn’t going to be the Peter that’s facing you right now. So for your own well-being, and for Peter’s, you stepped away and took a deep breath.

“We can’t. We can’t, Peter. You fucking know we can’t. We drifted apart and I fucking hate you for that. I hate you so fucking much Peter, but I hate you so fucking much because I love you even more. I’m still so in love with you but I can’t make myself suffer like this. I can’t...I can’t keep...hoping that you’re still the same nerdy kid that I fell in love with.” Your throat was hurting, the sobs clawing at it, but you kept yourself straight. You kept yourself from making sounds other than your voice because you knew that if you were to choke out a sob, you wouldn’t stop.

Peter kept his mouth shut. He saw you breaking down, he saw the pain in your red, swollen eyes and he hated himself for it. He knew this was his fault, he made her feel like this relationship wasn’t worth it. He made her feel like shit, and he hates that he let himself hurt you like that. Which is why he was going to let you go. He didn’t have anything to say, and neither did you, so you both stayed silent until Peter walked up slowly to you and hugged you.

The moment your head hit his chest is the moment you let it all go. You let all your frustrations, sadness, and tension go with every tear, every cry. Peter was doing the same, letting his tears fall down onto your hair and shutting his eyes tightly as he let out shaky breaths.

“I love you Peter. And I want you to keep doing the internship. Use that smart brain of yours to do good things. I’m so proud of you.” You whispered into his hoodie, the wetness from your tears clinging onto your cheek. You sniffed, hugging him tighter.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Y/N.” You heard him choke out, the words barely audible. You nodded, telling him that you know. You know he’s sorry, and so are you.

“I love you Peter.” You sniffed, pulling away a bit to look at his red face and swollen eyes.

“I love you too Y/N.”

[pastelvirgil]

(@virmillion hope u dont mind me rambling about us????)

so im a little late to the game, but yesterday everyone was making posts about their 2018 and all that. and... while 2018 wasnt necessarily the best, it brought me a lot. it brought me sanders sides- this fandom, which is one of the least toxic on the entire internet, imo, and it brought me more fic than ive ever written before. not to mention actual positive response to said fic. and... (keep reading for ultimate sap)

on april 16th, 2018, at a ridiculously late/early hour of the night/morning as i worked on an ap lit paper that i still hadnt finished, i saw a post from @virmillion about them writing fanfic on their notes app at wgi world championships. i dont know if it was the time, or sheer impulsiveness, but i was excited about guard and someone else who had been at worlds so i messaged them. and we talked, and talked- i learned that they had been part of one of my favorite shows the year before, that we were both seniors and in ap lit, that we both knew the kind of bullshit that sometimes went down in guard but we still liked it anyways. it was an amazing hour and a half.

about.. two months?? pass, and lab made another post about people they had messaged but hadn’t really talked to after the initial time/in awhile. and i was on there. so i messaged them again. and the connection still flowed- as the months passed, i remember so many two hour conversations at midnight or one or two or three, short ones when i was on break at work, cheerleading each other on our fics- just. talking. a lot. learning things and growing close.

i think it was probably mid july when i actually started liking lab in a romantic sense- idk when it happened for them, but i do know that we essentially lived a mutual pining fic where the main characters dont communicate for months. we knew that we were close, in a “there is no way i can imagine my life without you now” kind of way (at least for me). we both knew it, but neither of us talked about it, so it was kind of an undefined thing. we vaged about our feelings through tags on sappy posts but didnt actually put a label on anything.

on november 29th, i finally asked lab if they wanted to officially be datemates. and even though it’s only been a month, its been an amazing one. some people say “i would never do long distance,” but sometimes the person is worth it. saying i love you to someone... it’s scary, but its good. its amazing.

lab- if you dont mind me saying: 

a) love you, starlight < 3 

b) i want you to know that even if there are some things that scare me, because love is scary. maybe this is too sappy to say on the internet, but... youre it, for me, i think. when i think of the future, the long off future, it’s impossible to imagine one that doesn’t have you. i’ll have you for as long as you’ll have me, which i hope will be a really long time. (the longest time.)

love, em < 3

[inawickedlittletown]

Walking The Wire (109/?)

Summary: Tony Stark always knew about Peter Parker. He didn’t know that Peter was going to get superpowers and become Spider-Man, but he always knew about Peter because Peter was his son.

This will span from pre-Iron Man up through the rest of the MCU (eventually including Infinity War) and will be for the most part canon compliant except where I’ve taken some liberties and interpreted canon a certain way.

Pairings: Pepper/Tony, Tony/Steve (endgame), Tony/Mary (past)

A/N: If you want me to tag you when I post new chapters let me know. This fic is also on AO3

I used Collider’s MCU timeline to stay canon and the title of this fic is an Imagine Dragons song that is just so fitting for Peter and Tony

@findmeinthestarss

Masterpost

Chapter One Hundred Eight

2018

Ben & Jerry’s came out with a whole bunch of new flavors that were Avengers inspired. Peter found out when Ned texted him and MJ about it in a group text. Later, when he got home from school, he found out that not only were there new flavors, but that Ben & Jerry had gone ahead and sent them at the tower a few pints of each of the new flavors.

“This is amazing,” Peter said when he peered into the freezer. “Did you know this was happening?”

“Despite your metabolism, I don’t expect that eating all of it at once would be wise,” his dad said. “And no, I didn’t.”

“How long do you think they’ve been working on this?” Sam asked. He was leaning against one of the counters and already digging into a pint box of the A Hunka-Hulka-Burning Fudge. “Don’t they take years creating flavors?”

“Not sure. Don’t care,” Tony said and reached into the freezer to pull out Cap-ilicious Triple Berry.  “All I know is that apparently I’m not off dairy and that this is delicious.”

“I would have thought they’d do a more patriotic look to Cap’s ice cream,” Sam said.

Peter reached blindly for one of the containers so he wouldn’t have to make a choice and he saw his dad shrug as he took a bite of the Cap inspired ice cream. Peter had wound up with Stark Raving Hazelnuts which really was not all bad. It was certainly a nice thing to come home to. He took another bite and then took a picture of the ice cream to send to Ned.

“You know, I’m really glad we got a wedding planner,” Tony said as he looked through a few cake design options.

Steve who was in the middle of painting something laughed. “You mean, you’re glad Pepper got us a wedding planner even though this whole thing was supposed to be a small thing because Peter despite his excitement is still just a teenage boy that knows next to nothing about weddings.”

Tony shrugged. “Sure, what you said. But I’m still glad. Anyway, people like parties. And at this rate we just really have to make a few choices and then just show up. We can even leave early if you really want. What are you painting anyway?”

“The view,” Steve said and sure enough he was. Everything outside the window had been transferred to the canvas. It wasn’t exact -- more of an abstract, but that didn’t make it any less beautiful. Tony had never really understood art or even bothered to like it -- but that didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate everything that Steve created.

His art room had filled up with more and more art since Steve had finally focused on his hobby. He wasn’t obsessive, but he spent hours painting away or sketching. It kept him entertained and Tony was happy about it. He liked that Steve had something to do that was all his own. Tony also loved watching him do it -- the concentration that he put into his art was unlike anything else. In another lifetime, it was possible that Steve would have just become some artist that everyone admired.

Tony got up. “I’ll leave you to it. I have a bit of work to finish up in the lab.”

Steve nodded. Tony pressed a kiss to his temple and walked out of the room. He found Sam and Wanda watching some odd cartoon and then spotted Vision in the kitchen.

“Hey, Viz.”

Vision and Wanda spent a lot of time on their own on their floor but it wasn’t odd to find them up in the penthouse some days. What Tony found weird about it was that Vision seemed to be more and more human-like these days. He had started dressing like a regular person a long time ago but now he seemed to not mind changing his appearance to look human. It was a little strange.  

“A letter arrived for you,” Vision said.

“That’s odd,” Tony said. “We usually don’t get any mail sent up here.”

“It is possible someone brought it up and left it in the kitchen for you to find,” Vision said.

“Right,” Tony said but it all still sounded a bit odd.

Vision didn’t respond and he picked up the bowl of popcorn and went to join Wanda and Sam in the living room. The letter was in a manila envelope and Tony figured he’d take it with him, but his mind was already turning to the new designs he’d been working on. Natasha was already out of her house arrest unlike the rest of them and she’d been cleared to rejoin The Avengers officially. It also meant that she was free to do whatever Fury wanted from her and Tony wanted to give her the best gear to do that with.

The heater in the Spider-Man suit was one of the best things ever. It meant that Peter could actually patrol without feeling the brisk cold air. It had snowed a few days earlier and there was gray and dark dirty snow on the edges of most streets. Peter also found that most rooftops were covered and useless to him. But he was still out and about for a few hours.

But it turned out that when it was cold out that there wasn’t a lot of crime to go after. Not a lot of people were out unless they needed to be. Peter did save a woman from slipping on ice.

“Anything going on, Karen? I’m kind of getting bored.”

“Not that I can tell,” Karen said.

“I should have just gone and trained with Steve. I guess it’s a good thing, right, that nothing is happening.”

“I believe so, Peter.”

He swung off of a fire escape and headed towards the tower. Maybe he’d just go and actually work on his homework. There was an essay due in a few days that he should get on top of. His junior year of high school had brought along a ton more work and college was a thing that everyone was starting to get worried about. Tony liked to mention MIT in passing all the time and then May brought it up in her own way too, always hinting at how Peter would need to give up Spider-Man for it and Peter just -- he didn’t want to think about that.

He got back to the tower to find Natasha was back from a mission and sitting in the living room with Sam, Steve, Wanda, and Vision.

“Hey, Peter,” Natasha said. She had a split lip and yet she still smiled at him.

“We left you food in the kitchen,” Steve said. “We also left food for Tony if you want to bring some to him.”

“Cool. Thanks. I will.”

Food turned out to be sub sandwiches so after getting back into his normal clothes, Peter just grabbed both and went to the workshop. He was expecting to find Tony working, but instead his dad was looking at paperwork.

“Hungry?” Peter asked.

His dad turned to look at him. “Oh, you’re home. I -- I must have lost track of time.”

“What are you working on?” Peter asked.

“Nothing. Nothing. Just something that got in the mail today got me a bit distracted.” He waved his hand and the display disappeared. “Anyway, food. How was school today? Patrol?”

“Same. Not much going on.”

Tony nodded. He was oddly distracted. It made Peter worry a little. His dad only tended to get weird when something was happening.

“Did I ever tell you that I can’t actually have kids,” Tony said after they’d sat in silence eating for a while.

“No,” Peter said, not sure where the conversation was going. “I mean, maybe. I kind of think I knew that already.”

Tony nodded. “I -- it was to do with the arc reactor. Anyway, there was a time when I didn’t think that I would ever meet you or that it would make a difference because you were growing so fast and I never needed my parents when I was your age -- well, I probably did but I didn’t really have them. I guess that’s what makes more sense.”

“What are you getting at?” Peter asked. He was so confused.

Tony sighed and he wiped his mouth with a napkin and then he got up and grabbed a few sheets of paper. “A while back I applied to adopt. Sort of on a whim. Sort of because I really wanted to be a dad since at the time I couldn’t really be yours. I thought I’d never get to meet you. It takes time to adopt and I had forgotten about it just because of everything that happened. Actually -- I don’t remember if I told Steve about it. Thing is, nothing came of it and then I met you.”

Peter remembered a conversation about his dad possibly wanting other kids and how much Peter just -- he didn’t know how to feel about it. He hadn’t really let himself think about any of it especially since Tony had said he wasn’t sure if anything might happen.

“But why are you -- what’s that paper?” Peter motioned to the papers that Tony was holding.

“They want to know if I’m still interested,” Tony said.

“Oh,” Peter said.

Tony let out a breath. “I don’t think this is the right time,” Tony said. “Not for any of us.”

“Oh,” Peter said again and it was as if he didn’t know how to say anything else. He just -- he didn’t know if his dad wanted his opinion or if he was just telling Peter about it to tell him. Peter was also quite sure that he didn’t know how to feel.

It was getting closer to the end of the school year when a school trip was announced and Peter was dismayed to hear that it was a tour of SI. MJ cackled and laughed for a solid minute once she found out and just wouldn’t let it go all throughout lunch and then later when they were walking out of Midtown. Ned on the other hand seemed as excited as everyone else. The trip wasn’t for another few weeks, but Peter was already dreading it. He just knew that it wasn’t going to go well. He had kept the fact that he was living at the tower a secret from everyone including Ned and Michelle for over a year and this was going to be thing that finally revealed that to them -- he could just feel it.

“Aha, so we finally get to find out that Penis Parker has been lying about that internship all this time,” Flash said when he walked past them.

Peter rolled his eyes.

“Or prove Flash wrong,” Ned said. “This is actually really awesome. Do you think any of the Avengers will show up?”

Peter shook his head. “It’s not a trip to the living floors. Just the labs and SI. They don’t usually go down there.”

“But wouldn’t it be awesome if Flash saw you talking to them and they ignored him.”

Peter settled him with a look. “That’s not going to happen, Ned.”

When he got back home, he almost hesitated to mention the whole thing. He was going to have to get May to sign the permission slip since she was still his guardian, but if Peter was going to go -- and he really couldn’t not without giving ammunition to Flash to make fun of him with -- he was going to have to make sure that he did appear to be an intern at SI. Peter couldn’t remember the last time he had gone down to those floors of the building. He assumed that the trip was going to be geared towards the R&D rooms. Maybe he could get Pepper to help him out with making his story seem legitimate.

He ran into Steve as he was getting out of the elevator.

“Hey, Peter,” Steve said. “Not patrolling today?”

“I might go out later,” Peter said and followed Steve to the kitchen where Sam was in the middle of taking cookies out of the oven.

“Well we were planning on a movie if you want to join,” Sam said.

“Yeah, I will,” Peter said. It offered for the perfect distraction. He would figure out what he was going to do about the trip later.

Chapter One Hundred Ten

[aparticularbandit]

i’ve got somewhere between 9-10k written in another au that i’m really excited about. i do think i want to hold off on posting this one - possibly until after the rough draft is done, although i’m not sure. i like the current schedule alternating between carla and if you lived here, you’d be home now with time between chapters to take a break and do something else.

i do still want to finish the choose-your-own-adventure fic.

i do still want to finish the fic that primarily deals with rose and her concept of identity. (i guess if we consider iylhybhn as primarily a luisa-centric fic with strong helpings of roisa (among other things), this would be primarily a rose-centric fic with equally strong helpings of roisa, set during s3. ish.) i have previously referred to this as either the submarine fic or the suit fic, but right now i think i’ll probably combine those two. maybe.

i do still want to finish the pokémon fic trilogy. i have very strong ideas for clara’s book and the last book, but luisa’s is falling behind. her is less concrete, and there are gaps.

i do still have a finished rough draft for a one-shot that i may or may not work up to post. the ideas covered there may end up in other fics (for instance, luisa’s desire to have children but fear of passing on her and her mother’s genetics, which showed up in the newest chapter of iylhybhn - the end result of which may be seen in at least one of the other fics on which i’ve been writing).

i kind of want to finish one of the roisa holiday specials, but the widow!luisa aspect is being used in a different fic, so maybe not that one - which means it’d be more the subversion than the one played straight and idk. so maybe not.

outside of roisa fic, i do want to edit and start posting the noir fanfic that i wrote...four? FIVE?! years ago. it’s complete and was in its fourth draft before i stopped working on it, but it sticks in the back of my mind as the one novel-length project i actually finished and i. still want to share it. on a weekly updating schedule. like i’d initially planned. but to do that, i should probably do a rewatch of the series and i may rewrite the second chapter entirely do to its, uh, sensitive content.

i also have a rare pair fic i’ve started that may get me into trouble that I’d like to work on.

i also have another ship (that i don’t really ship and maybe no one actually really shipped other than torture porn - which is! what! bothers! me! because it’s a legitimate ship and i want it to have legitimate fic) that i want to write fic for that was prompted by something else i saw posted. idk if i’ll do this one or not, though, given the potential risks involved.

but right now, my current main focuses are carla, iylhybhn, and that first fic i mentioned that i’ve been writing. i know my tendency to get distracted with new projects, and that’s fine, but i actually want to finish those three. when i finish one of the longer projects, i may throw another long project into rotation. i haven’t decided yet.

but yes. reasons why i’ve been writing a bunch (not as much as nanowrimo but generally speaking the same schedule, just with a lower word count per month) but not necessarily posting as much.

[minako-arisato-wildfemaleprotag]

Weird Headcanon...

Okay so Ive been thinking a lot. I ship a strange ship not a lot of people ship, FeMc and Jin Shirato.Its my guilty pleasure and I wish that rather than the other hermit they had for p3p they had him in a similar way they did it for the male route. Anyways... my headcanon...... This whole ramble has spoilers for persona 3 as a whole the journey and the answer, about the end and if you are upset by spoilers that are for a game that came out in the early 2000s then please just be careful... also mentioning of Shadows cry, but no spoilers because it isn't relevant to this.

Social Link wish

So My thought as explained above was the Hermit would be him, and in place of the teacher, playing in game and having a similar thing. Just a basic social link with a romance option. the reveal being kinda like to the one here with a link to the fic this is biased on  and leading to his sacrifice. It would be a one off date, and not able to do anything else with him other than the normal fighting, some changed texts of self doubt or something. Just a big angst war inside of him, and FeMc. 

Explanation on how Jin could have lived

So in shadows cry (the novel which has Jin as the main “protag” of sorts) It goes so much into detail about Jin, and shows his more human side, how he jokes around, has a friend outside of strega who he cares about, and even how he is the one to control the temperature for the shower when Chidori uses it. In this we also learn that Jin makes his own grenades and sometimes they come out more like fireworks than explosives.  Something that is bound to happen from time to time when you learned to make your own at home. 

Now here is my thought,  In the end of persona, where Jin sacrifices himself and blows up the shadows at the top of Tartarus, what if he had a malfunctioning grenade? What if it was enough to just burn him a bit, and take the shadows out? What if he got out of Tartarus? What if he made it out just to pass out outside and get carried away to the hospital for his burns?  I would Imagine FeMc looking for him after with no luck.

My thought is he could have lived, because honestly if Chidori lived, (Which she did, if you play persona 3 the answer) when we saw her actually disappear, its possible Jin could be too. Going on to living his life after the whole thing, healed and scarred, left with no one to be around, decides to just live his life as a semi functioning adult. Maybe He gets a job, earns some money, Moves to another town and gets an apartment, and so on. I would imagine him having almost war like flashbacks, things triggering attacks that are hard to calm down from like hearing sonic booms, or something. Just doing what he can to live, after all FeMc fought so save the world, so why put it to waste? 

Now for the less legnthy part, FeMc.

So for FeMC Hamuko/Minako. You see, because she isnt technically Canon, But an alternate dimension version of Makoto/Minato, In The answer MC is the seal to the door, you cant have FeMc as that seal, which is why she isn’t canon, but in the end why does that have to be a bad thing.... maybe she doesn’t have to give her life so much. I’m thinking that maybe rather than her body and soul dying that maybe loosing her memories of everything and everyone would be her sacrifice. Maybe after her passing out on the roof and the coma she eventually wakes up, unlike Makoto/Minato. Maybe she Wakes up with no memory, has to go live with her family again and then continues to go to school and start her life over from that point. Finishing high school, and going to collage. SEES still being friends with her but refusing to bring it all up in fear of hurting her more, as they tried to bring it up to her before, only causing headaches and sadness for not remembering. 

How they meet up again

I’m thinking maybe someday Hamuko/Minako and Jin maybe meet up, Jin instantly knowing who she is and nervous about talking to her but forced to because he works some minimum wage job as IDFK a fucking Ice cream man at a shop, or maybe even more realistically a computer lab at a collage or a guy who fixes computers because why not. Both grown more, Jin becoming a bit less scrawny, and Hamuko/Minako more womanly and full. When Jin asks her how shes been all awkwardly realizes she doesn't know who he is. Through some research finding out she lost her memory and even contacted Mitsuru out of confusion. I think it could be an interesting situation where Jin is stuck wanting to help her get her memory back and falling for her. Helping himself become more at ease with himself as a person having someone to be around because its obvious he is a very co-dependent person biased on his relationship with Takaya. Maybe he helps her get her memories back, or maybe she never does, just believing everyone and learning to accept everything how it is. 

Conclusion

Over all I would have just loved to have a Jin route in P3P, Maybe learned more about him and how he though about things, and why he sacrificed himself to help SEES. Some people got to see how he was in shadows cry, but even the it never came out in English.... fan translations are hard to find, As it is I can only find one chapter right now of shadows cry in English.  https://gekkoukanhigh.livejournal.com/167261.html Right here for those who want it. Im really excited about persona Q 2 and it got me thinking about this whole thing again. I would really love to see more fan art of these two, The happy go lucky  ready to help girl and the used and abused experiment boy. If anyone has any thoughts to put into this or want to voice anything Im here for discussion, Honestly I would love to discuss this! As it is I kinda want to discuss this with my Fiance, but alas... Ive done enough RPs of this ship, too bad I come up with a good idea now, but this would be difficult to RP due to the slow pacing it would have. Anyways thanks for reading I know I'm silly for coming up with this for a ship no one likes but ehh!