#and the french front three are so fucking old u could put them in a nursing home and no one would bat an eye

[vicstenius]

This is acc the worst game of football ive ever watched and i watched arsenal vs swansea on the 30th January 2018

[highonchocolate]

Take Two: The Guardian in Gotham Chapter 4

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Note:  When italics are in quotations (“”) then Marinette is speaking French. If the italics don't have quotations, that’s people’s thoughts.

---

After patrol, Dick made his way to bed, mulling over the announcement Bruce had made at dinner. When he had seen that picture, he had wanted to join Jason on his Paris killing spree. That girl-Marinette, was it?- seemed to be in need of a better place to stay, and he was happy they could provide it to her. At the same time, he had no idea how to treat a young teenage girl! What does she like? Sports? Dresses? Both? None? He had no idea! As he lay there having a breakdown in a slight panic, he couldn’t force the image of her broken, bloody body out of his head. He wondered what kind of person that sort of assault would turn her into. He had seen greater people snap after such emotional and physical wounds. 

Meanwhile, Jason, Tim and Damian were facing similar dilemmas over the girl in question. 

Jason had no idea how to handle teenagers, especially ones that had been assaulted. Suffering through fucked-up shit like that would definitely leave you with some trauma. He thought to himself. Maybe we should ask her about her boundaries. His coping method involved wearing a red helmet and gallivanting around the rooftops of Gotham, looking for excuses to shoot people. He didn’t exactly think that was the best way to help her out. Sure, he grumbled, I’ll just walk over to her, hand her some Kevlar and a grapple before pushing her off the top of fucking Wayne Enterprises in hopes that she’ll get it right. ‘Cause that’s totally fucking healthy!

Tim on the other hand, was completely and utterly paranoid. Sure, he was definitely worried about that girl, considering that it looked like she had lost a lot of blood; but at the same time, he was worried about exposing their identities to her. Just one slip up, and she would know exactly what the Wayne family did at night. Not to mention that if they ended up getting injured, they’d have to figure out how to hide it from her. As he hacked into her school records, he noticed that she had filed several bullying complaints that had never been acknowledged, as well as a request to transfer classrooms that had been dismissed. Just how corrupt is this school?! He thought to himself as he saw how the principal-Monsieur Damocles- had bent to one girl’s every whim, just because her father was the Mayor! Abuse of power, and ignoring bullying reports? He thought to himself. This is not going to end well for them. With that, he completely launched himself into digging up every bit of dirt he could find on that school and it’s staff; completely forgetting about his original panic over being discovered.

And as for Damian, he was completely furious that there would be another person living in the Manor with them! Not to mention she had to go to Gotham Academy as well! He hadn’t even met this Marinette, and she was already proving to be a pain. 

---

As the day of their Marinette’s arrival dawned bright and clear, four members of the family waited for the arrival of their last member and guest. Bruce was slightly nervous. He had never had a girl so young stay in the Manor before, and he didn’t know how to greet her. Did he shake her hand? Smile and wave? Shake her hand then smile? Wave then shake? 

Dick, however, was full of excitement that their new guest was arriving in a couple of hours. He wondered if she knew any gymnastics, and if she would be willing to do some flexibility-related stretches and workouts with him.

All his other children were scattered throughout the city, doing various different things. Jason was up in the Manor library, reading his latest novel. Tim was in his office at WE, finishing up some paperwork he had wanted to fill out before Marinette arrived. Damian, thankfully, was at school, and wouldn’t be returning until later in the evening.

His thoughts were cut short by Tim’s arrival. As he walked into the kitchen and came back with a large mug of coffee, Jason trudged downstairs, and they all sat around in the living room continuing to work and read as they waited for Marinette and Alfred.

Half an hour later, Bruce was alerted to the gates in front of the Manor opening. They all lined up outside the house and watched as the sleek, black limo pulled up in front of the house. 

They waited patiently as Alfred got out of the car and headed to the trunk before opening it and taking out a suitcase, and what looked like a foldable wheelchair. The four of them were confused. Why would she need a wheelchair? Surely her classmates hadn’t injured her that badly? Their thoughts were cut off by Alfred opening the back door on the opposite side of the car. He bent down and proceeded to open the wheelchair, before wheeling it around to face the family. When they caught their first glimpse of their guest, they were absolutely floored.

They had all seen many worse injuries during their nightly patrols, and several injured children years younger than her, but when they saw Marinette, they were shocked into silence at her battered appearance.

She was a decent height at around 5’ 4”, but compared to Bruce and Jason she was absolutely tiny. She had several dark purple-blue bruises that contrasted sharply with her pale skin as well as an angry gash covered in stitches on her forehead. She also sported a clunky cast and a thick brace on her leg and wrist. With her dark hair pulled into space buns, and blue eyes, as well as how small and bruised she looked, they all felt a rush of protectiveness flood through them when they saw her. 

Their silent shock was interrupted by Jason leaning over to Bruce and whispering angrily “You said her classmates did this to her?!” At his exclamation, the other three tensed in anger at the reminder that her old friends had been the ones to injure her so severely. They were snapped out of their thoughts by Marinette speaking.

“Bonjour, Monsieur Wayne! Thank you for letting me stay in your house with you! I promise I’ll do my best to not be a bother to you and your family.” Her voice was slightly rough from when she had been crying, but she spoke sweetly, and politely. At her statement, Jason jumped in “No problem Pixie Stick! The only nuisance here is the Demon Spawn, and he’s not home yet.” She blinked up at him, before her mouth twitched up into a half-smile. “Thank you, Monsieur. I’m sorry but I didn’t get your name…” she trailed off. 

“Sorry about that Sunshine, he’s Jason, I’m Dick, and the sleep deprived one is Tim.” Dick interjected. “And you don’t have to call us Monsieur, either. Just our names are fine.” 

“Oh okay. Thank you Mister Bruce, and thank you Dick! I’m Marinette, but I’m sure you knew that already. You can call me Mari if you’d like. I’m not very picky about nicknames!” She laughed. 

“Now if the young Masters are done with their introductions, I will gladly show Miss Marinette to her room.” Alfred cut in. “Thank you Monsieur Alfred, that would be wonderful.” The girl in question smiled up at him from her seat in the wheelchair before he wheeled her inside.

---

Marinette thanked Alfred as he wheeled her into her room. He mentioned that someone named “Damian” was at school, and that she would be attending school after she gets adjusted to the time difference. After he left, she opened her bag to let the Kwami out, and waited for their excited chattering to calm down. Once they had quieted, she spoke. “Hey Tikki? Do you think it was wrong to tell Alfred about the Miraculi being active in Paris?” she questioned as she fiddled with the straps on her bag. ”I was just so excited to meet another wielder that everything slipped out!” 

The Kwami was quick to reassure her. “Oh no Marinette, it's okay. SInce you are the Guardian now, you need all the help you can get. And besides, you already recognized each other’s auras, so there was no point in trying to hide it!” She flew up to her face and patted her unbruised cheek gently. 

“Oh no! I completely forgot to tell Alfred that I’m the Guardian!” She shrieked. “What if he gets mad at me for being too inexperienced?! He’ll kick me out and I’ll have to live on the streets! Then I’ll end up becoming part of the Crime Alley hierarchy, living alone in an abandoned building with a stray cat named Tommy! Tikki this is a disaster! A disaster!!” She would have continued to ramble in french, if it wasn't for the fact that Wayzz had flown up to her and reminded her that she needed to shower because she had been on an airplane and in the airport.

Several curses, near falls, and plastic cast coverings later, Marinette limped out of the shower, exhausted but clean. She quickly tied her hair onto a messy bun before changing into warm leggings (although she couldn’t fully pull one side down due to her cast) and a sweater. Gotham was cold! She let the Kwami roam around her giant room as she put her clothes into her closet. 

After settling in, she plugged in her phone and texted her friends. 

FashionableBug: Just got everything organized and took a shower. Turns out M. Wayne has four kids! I met Dick, Jason and Tim, and apparently Damian is at school. 

QueenofMean: Maribug! How dare u not text us as soon as you arrived! Ur plane landed over three hours ago! 

Snakey Boi: Chlo’s right, Mari. We were all worried bout u.

FahsionableBug: Sorry u guys. Everything was going so fast I completely 4got!

FashionableBug: Also I met a Peacock wielder!!!!!!!

You’reUnderAgreste: Really?! Buginette thats amazingggg

DragonGurl: Wonderful news indeed, Mari. They must have lots of advice for you.

QueenofMean: !!!!!! 

QueenofMean: Nettie thats awesome!!!!!!

SnakeyBoi: Thats totally great!

SnakeyBoi: Also who is it???

FashionableBug: lol Luka its Alfred their butler. Tho hes more like a grandfather

FashionableBug: Anyways, I’m going to go find the kitchen. I wanna make the Kwami some macarons!

FashionableBug: Bye!!!

DragonGurl: Bye Marinette.

You’reUnderAgreste: Bye Bugaboo!

QueenofMean: Bye Bug!

SnakeyBoi: Bye Mari!

Marinette smiled as she put her phone down. Glancing over at the Kwami flying around the room, she stretched before calling out “I’m going to see if I can bake in the kitchen. Do any of you want to join me?” Before she had even finished her sentence Tikki and Kaalki were flying over to her and nestling in her bun. Laughing at their antics, she maneuvered herself into the chair before wheeling herself down the hall. She hadn’t gone very far when she bumped into Alfred walking out of another door. "Salut, Monsieur Alfred! Would you mind showing me where the kitchen is? I was thinking of making some sweet treats for my...friends.” At her statement, Tikki and Kaalki poked their heads out of her bun to wave, before hiding again. Smiling, Alfred turned to her and spoke. “Of course Guardian. Right this way.”  Her eyes darted to meet his hesitantly. “You aren’t mad that I’m the Guardian?” Alfred paused and looked her directly in the eyes. “Miss Marinette, I am in no way questioning your capabilities as a Guardian. You are very powerful, and I have no doubt you will do an amazing job. I am simply upset over how you seem to have no Mentor or any form of Guidance to help you.” Sighing in relief, she smiled. “Well, my old Master lost his memories because he had to give up his memories after being compromised. I do have the Grimoire though, and I was also hoping you would help me as well?” She questioned, looking up at him hesitantly. As they walked into the kitchen, he bowed to her and stated “It would be my greatest honor to assist you, Great Guardian.” She laughed and thanked him before beginning to bake. 

She hummed a simple melody designed to bring about calm and peace, and soon she was happily working in her own tranquil little bubble. 

An hour later, as she was frosting the little pastries, Jason walked in, drawn by the smell of sugar and freshly baked goods. “Hey Alfred! What cooki-” he cut himself off. “Sorry Pixie Stick, I thought you were Alfred. Only he can make something worth eating in this house!” 

“Oh it’s no problem Jason, I was just making macarons. My parents own a bakery, so I’m kinda used to just baking whenever.” She laughed softly

“Damn Pixie, macarons?! You haven’t been here a day, and you’re already much nicer than all my asshole brothers!” 

“Yeah, well these are for after dinner, so no touching ‘till then!” She warned.

He sat at the counter and scrolled through his phone as she decorated the pastries. Soon enough, she had them all completed and proceeded to carefully take the tray and wheel over to the fridge. Before she could move an inch, Jason had leapt up and placed the tray in its designated spot. “Sorry Pix, but I’ll get that for ya. We don’t need you accidentally crashing or dropping these heavenly treats!” He laughed.

She crossed her arms and pouted up at him, before her mouth stretched into a wide grin. As she wheeled herself into the dining room, she swiftly turned her head and stuck her tongue out before disappearing through the door into the room beyond.

---

Dinner with the Wayne family was a rambunctious affair. Dick and Jason bantered good-naturedly over their meals as Bruce sighed tiredly in the background. Tim moved lethargically, downing giant gulps of coffee as he ate his meal. Damian apparently was studying with his friend Jon, and therefore wouldn't be eating with them. They all smiled and laughed as they talked through dinner. Marinette told them about her friends, before adding that they’d probably video call her tomorrow so they could meet the family. Bruce assured her that it was not a problem and added that he would be glad to speak with her parents. After eating, she headed up to her room to work on the outfit she had been sketching on the plane. 

She immersed herself in designing, and ended up finally going to sleep shortly after midnight. The Kwami flew over to their little nest of pillows and blankets, and she turned off the lights before drifting off to sleep. Her dreams were plagued by nightmares of looming shadows and ethereal dark butterflies destroying the world in fire. She watched in helpless terror, stuck in her Ladybug persona, unable help as the world burned. The horrific dreamscape was shattered by the sound of her phone blaring out an Akuma alarm. 

She leaped out of bed and shut off the shrill noise as she called for Tikki and Kaalki before leaping through the portal and into Paris.

She ended up in a ravaged, unrecognizable landscape covered in flames. Looks like her dream had been semi-accurate after all. The Eiffel Tower was partially melted, and fires were cropping up all over the city. The four simultaneous thuds behind her signified the arrival of her team. As one they looked upon their ravaged city and charged the Akuma.

[softkuna]

playlist

›  𝚋𝚘𝚔𝚞𝚝𝚘 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝚔𝚞𝚛𝚘𝚘

› 𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚢. 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛 𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚎𝚜. 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚋𝚎𝚜. 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚊 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝.

›  𝟸𝟷𝟿𝟻𝚔

You had a shit day. You got pegged in the face with a volleyball so hard, you could practically taste the concussion as you sprawled backwards. Luckily, the medic ok’d you to keep playing. Unluckily, the whole ordeal happened right in front of a pro team’s scouting manager. The embarrassment alone made you want to hide under a rock until next season. To make it all sting just a little bit more, Bokuto and Kuroo had their own games to attend, so it wasn’t like you could curl up in Kuroo’s dorm like you might’ve before. Bokuto was only in town for a few days, too, and you were certain he’d be practicing or playing the whole weekend. So instead, you sigh as you walk onto the train by campus, shooting a text to the tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum.

🗨️We lost :( I think I broke my nose. And my careeeeeeer

  Bokuto’s fingers rapid-fire replied, followed my Kuroo’s more casual pace.

  🗯️BROKEN NOSE?!! ARE YOU OK???

🗯️Wait how did u lose? Aren’t they good luck????

💬That’s a broken leg, bruh.

💬Sorry babe. You’re not concussed, though, right?

🗨️I’m fine ^^” just pulled a hina

🗯️Hows a broken leg good luck? U cant play on that THAT SHIT HURTS 😱 😱

🗨️👀 👀 👀

🗨️Bo pls

  As you sat on the train, you quietly snorted to yourself. Bokuto was an amazing player and an even better boyfriend, but sometimes you thought his muscles squeezed out a braincell or two.

💬Saw the clip on twitter. hows your face? I’m sure its still hot

  You scoffed with a roll of your eyes. Kuroo, flirtatious as always, but your reflexive smile matched the tone of your text.

🗨️If hot = busted, then sure 🙄

🗯️HEY UR HOT 😘 😘 SHUDDUP

  By the way their texts disjointedly pieced together before coming to a halt, you knew their matches started. You locked your screen with a sigh. Whether it was the ace’s ADHD-induced impulse thoughts or the blocker’s humorously blunt honesty, the two had always managed to spike your spirits high and block the anxieties that crept over the net. Without their distractions, the day replayed in 4K across the theater of your mind. Back slumped against the seat, you could feel the heaviness of it drag you down to the ocean floor.

  But now here you were, walking to your apartment with no reprieve from the disappointment. Rather than doing your adult responsibilities like clean, cook, or generally care past a shower, you slept. It was a deep, blank sleep. The type where you know you’d wake up feeling that eerie calm in the dead of night.

    Brightness blared next to your pillow – invading your vision as it violently vibrated against your hand. A loud ring attacked your half-concious hearing, jolting your heart like a jumpstarted engine. Quick reflexes enacted before you could stop the near Olympic vault of your phone into the wall across the bed.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me… who the hell….” You tear the blankets off, shivering at the cold as you pick the device back up. Thank your lord and savior, Asahi, for gifting you an Otter Box for Christmas.

  A gentle gasp left your lips as you saw a slew of missed texts from the dynamic duo. Oh no. Oh no. You felt horrendous. Your phone lit up as a photo of Kuroo with a French fry up his nose vibrated to life.

  As fast as your fingers could, you slid to answer, “He-“

  “-LLO WE ARE OUTSIDE ARE YOU COMING OR WHAT?!” Bokuto hollered into the mic, practically blowing out the speaker with sheer vocal force.

  “Holy shit, Bo! What? What do you mean?” Cautiously, the screen was brought closer to your cheek again, ghosting about a centimeter for your hearing’s safety.

  “Don’t you check your phone, hot-stuff? We’re going for a drive,” Kuroo honked the horn, echoing through the window and phone.

  Sure enough, the string of texts was about a drive and a half-planned plan of action. Thrilled enthusiasm rippled through you. You didn’t even think you’d get to see Bokuto this visit let alone with Kuroo! Praise the scheduling gods!

  The phone squished between your shoulder and ear as hands searched for an outfit that wasn’t your hoe shorts and sports bra. You threw on Bokuto’s old Ace’s Way shirt, and on top a near ancient Nekoma varsity jacket. Both items of which were left in your apartment from a get together nearly a year ago, “I’ll be out in a sec!”

  College was difficult. Especially when each of you had gone in somewhat different directions after high school. Kuroo, like yourself, played volleyball in university. And like yourself, nearly ripped his hair out when experiencing the hell that was Macroeconomics with Professor Mori. Bokuto was scouted play volleyball professionally, popping in and out of Tokyo to visit you two. At some point along the way and a slew of confusing budding emotions later, the three of you dove head first into a lovingly symbiotic relationship. It was hard when each of your schedules were chaotic, but worked out for the best as you all strove for your own goals while cheering each other on.

  You grabbed your bag of random things including underwear, extra clothes, and some money.  You never knew with the two of them what may happen and you learned from one wild trip to Osaka that Bokuto’s sense of direction was about as bad as you’d think it’d be.

  Half jogging, you rolled your eyes to the red corvette. Kuroo loved that thing way too much. Through the window, you could see Bokuto lean across the console to open the back driver-side door for you. The grin he wore could’ve fueled the sun itself, “BABE! LIGHT OF MY LIFE! EDGE-LINE STRAIGHT SHOT! WER’RE GOING ON AN ADVENTURE,” His muscular arm stretched to you, calloused hands reaching for you to grab.

  He pulled you you between the seats for a  bear hug, wide chest nearly eating you whole. He was as toasty as always. Or maybe it was just your cheeks. Either way, you were happy to see him, “Missed you, Bo! Sorry for missing the texts.”

  “You were asleep weren’t ya?” Kuroo turned in the driver side, a hand finding its place at the crown of your hair. The lazy pique of his own lop-sided smile greeted your playful glare, which melted into a nod and a sigh. The look he gave softened at the navy-coated aura rolling off you in waves. He stroked your hair once, poking your cheek as his hand passed it, “You’re here. ‘s all that matters. Now, Hoots over here can shut up about your nose, which is… a little fucked up, wow.”

  “You don’t say?” Your expression dead-panned as Bokuto pulled back from you to examine the swollen cartilage. While you wanted them to see the game, you were absolutely glad that they didn’t. Bokuto would have barreled down the bleachers had he seen your wipe out in person. Actually, you recalled a snap from Atsumu; the camera pointed to the tile of a locker room, Bokuto’s howling in the background with a simple caption of ‘You good?’  

  Pulling away from the ace, you sat back into the middle seat, arms resting on the leather between the passenger and driver sides. Kuroo drove with his hands low on the wheel, long digits thwacking the steering wheel to a silent beat. You glanced between the two, suspicious of their matching expressions. You dared ask, “Why’s it so quiet?”

  “Are you saying-“ Kuroo began.

  “-you want some tuunesss?” Bokuto ended giddily.

  He readily tapped a button on his phone, shielding the screen from you protectively. Kuroo’s gaze darted between the dash screen and the road, waiting for whatever shitpost song Bokuto most definitely was about to put on.

  “Guys… what are you-“

  A record scratch.

  I still hear your voice when you sleep next to me.

  “You’re fucking kidding me! Turn it up, turn it up!” Your hand bulleted to the volume, body squeezing past the two to crank up Cascada’s Everytime We Touch until the windows rattled. Kuroo and Bokuto shared a knowing, toothy smirk. Bingo.

  “Forgive me, my weakness, but I don't know why

Without you, it's hard to survive!”

  Duetting with the utmost of dramatics, you and Bokuto reached for some imaginary lover escaping in the distance, opposite hand grasping near your hearts. Kuroo snickered, forever and always amused at how weirdly in-sync the two of you could be. Watching both of you thrash wildly together was probably the most endearing thing he’s seen all day.

  The silveret pumped his fists as you both scream-sang the modern masterpiece. His large hands enveloped yours with enough theatrics to shake the emotion into the chorus:  

  “'Cause every time we touch, I get this feeling

And every time we kiss, I swear I could fly

Can't you feel my heart beat fast? I want this to last

Need you by my side

'Cause every time we touch, I feel the static

And every time we kiss, I reach for the sky

Can't you hear my heart beat so? I can't let you go

Want you in my life!”

  The palm of your hands smacked into their biceps at the last lines, letting the 2000’s synth twinkle into your veins. The vibes in this vehicle were immaculate. Waves that crashed over you, drowning you earlier in the day, receded, leaving sun-warmed sands to dance across. The ones who paved the way were a sarcastic cat and overzealous owl.

  The song was coming to an end and you excitedly whipped between the two, “What’s next?! What’s the playlist?! Link it to me? Please?” You bat your eyelashes at them, Kuroo nudging his chin to the other. The ace hurriedly clicked a few buttons and opened a few apps, radiating delight itself, “Done!” Your phone buzzed with Bokuto’s link. The title of the playlist popped up, overpouring unadulterated admiration into your heart until it warmed up to your cheeks.

  Tunes To Cheer Our Best Babe Up To.

 It was silly, but on brand for the two. All of the songs were added within the last three hours by both boys. Each one of them an absolute banger.

  It was Kuroo’s idea in the beginning. He remembered all the times in high school you’d cry after an exam, near inconsolable until he’d loan you his headphones. Just a few months ago, he caught you throwing it back to the beat of some pop classic after you failed your first semester’s final exams. There’s a video of it somewhere, but he won’t admit to the sin. You know it because you can hear him hyena-laugh in the hallway every so often as Bad Boy riots in the background.

  Bokuto, with all the brilliantly rambunctious enthusiasm the world could give a single human being, added in every song he already had in his likes. All of which he sung with you on every trip until your voices hurt. He even added Mr. Brightside, reminding you of the time he screamed so loud during the chorus that he sounded like a donkey the rest of the day and into his next match. To this very day, the infamous ‘O ᴼO ᵒn ᵉ  TᵒOᵘCʰ’ could be heard in the locker rooms by each teammate in unison.

  You paused as the next song hit, mouth abruptly shutting as the two in the front recited, word-for-word,

  “Man, fuck.”

“What's wrong Bo?”

“Man, these kids, man, talkin' shit, makin' me feel bad.”

“Man, fuck them kids, bro! Look around, hoots, look at life!”

“Man, you're right”

“Mmm, you see? You see this fine bitch right over here?” Kuroo’s long fingers pinched your cheek at the red light, laughing as you jokingly smacked it away.

“Yeah, woah...” Bokuto beamed at you.

“You see these trees man? You see this water?” You snorted as Kuroo’s hand waved to four-way intersection.

“I guess it is okay.”

“Come on, man, you got so much more to appreciate, man.”

“Man you know what, y-you're right...” The words, lyrics or otherwise, still brought a childish scrunch to the ace’s handsome face.

“You damn right I'm right,” Kuroo smirked, taking even the smallest bit of delight out of his perfected timing, “I can't remember a time I was god-damn wrong.”

“Man, thanks, Demon Cat.”

“Hey man, that's what I'm here for.”

  Bokuto, half-joke-half-serious punched Kuroo’s bicep, eliciting a feral smirk as they went into the chorus. Bo’s arms crossed as he shook his shoulders to the beat. Kuroo threw down at the next red light, clapping to each beat. Just as the bass shook your heart in its chest, both players head-banged with all their might, car jerking with the force. You feared for the steering wheel and the threat of an airbag going off when both boys slam-drummed the vehicle’s surface. The sight of the two of them going absolutely feral elicited the brightest cackle from your belly.

  They really knew how to turn your shittiest days into your new favorites. And you’d definitely be revisiting this playlist.

[80s-roger]

Not On My Watch (pt 6)

Pairing: Dad!Roger x Mum!Reader (mid 80s)

summary: you’re divorced with queen’s roger taylor due to constant cheating and irrational behaviour towards you. but u have one person in common: your daughter, Laura aka your favourite human on earth. Your marriage with roger had its ups and downs but laura was the happiness in it. Now that she’s 8 and starts to realise how your terms with roger are, you finally tell her that you’re seeing another man except her father and she took it really warmly. She seemed excited to meet the new man unlikely your ex husband who accidentally learns about it by Laura, the weekend you would leave her at his place: on weekends you had some cute getaways with R/N because the court decided that Laura could stay or visit her dad on weekends and stay with him for five days each Christmas and easter vacations. On summers he has the right to be with her for two weeks.

taglist: @madeinheavxn @namelesslosers @stacymaytaylor @adqreu @cherries-n-rocknroll

catch up: part one, part two, part three, part four, part five

masterlist // dialogue prompts

note: this is the filthiest part of the entire series. also, sorry for waiting so long: I tried to think of a good smut scene, i feel like i ran out of ideas but thank you for your feedback!

words: 2,835

warnings: (18+!!!) surface smut, hardcore, penetrating, protected sex, oral, doggy (not anal), squirting, dom!rog - sub!reader, fluff

"Cheers to that." he laughed and took a sip of his red wine.

"Roger, we drank an entire bottle." You laughed back and placed your glass at the coffee table.

"We used to drink more. This is nothing compared to the old times." You were living the seventies the last past hour while being accompanied by a French red rose he recently bought during his most recent tour. You can tell you were both drunk. The dialogue was getting more and more personal.

"Yes, I remember that." You giggled, trying to recall all these times you couldn't stand up due to too much alcohol. "Most of these occurred at Freddie's parties."

"Remember when we went upstairs for a quick shag and we got caught by Freddie?" He hooted and blushed thinking of it but you gotta admit it was the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you both.

"Ah don't remind me!" You laughed. "He was like mind joining you? " you mimicked Freddie's voice and Roger extolled at your impression.

"Ah, I have to admit that shit got me jealous, I wouldn't share you with nobody." He admitted, setting free his dominant character. His glass was now placed at the table and his body placed closer to yours. "Neither at the same time nor when we are apart." His hand was placed at your knee, gently rubbing it and slightly going a little closer to your core. "By the way," he started. You were taken aback at the moment, feeling him take control was all you wanted by him. You liked feeling horny in front of him. He didn't have to try hard. "How was sex without me?" He whispered seductively at your ear.

At his words, you bit your lip. Butterflies were flying like crazy in your stomach. You wanted to be so honest at the moment. You turned your gaze at his baby blues, while his hands softly rubbed your thong trying to reach your area, "Boring." You sighed. You had to admit, Roger was indeed a good lay, there wouldn't be a time where you wouldn't come before him or generally come.

"Boring?" He asked amused and you nodded. "Well, you have to remember some things." He winked. "Follow me." He stood up, took your hand and lead you upstairs.

"Um, Rog-" you kinda stopped walking the stairs.

"Yeah?" He asked confused.

"I know we're shitfaced but don't forget precautions." You reminded him because most of the times, he would find excuses to avoid using condoms, which you never agreed with. That's why you always carried them when you were together.

"Oh- sure." He seemed kinda defeated. Maybe he tried to not use again.

You walked to the bedroom, there was barely any lighting to the room, but the slightly opened curtains let the moon, shine your faces.

"Did I have to be this drunk to tell you that I want to fuck you like a sex-deprived man right now?" He rhetorically asked and you couldn't admit the fact you felt the same way.

"Fuck me then." You admitted and bit your lip, driving him crazy.

"Oh no, you didn't have to do that, did you?" He provoked you to wrap your legs around his waist when he pressed you against his cabinet which was right in front of his window. This night was promising. "You missed me being dominant? Hm?" He asked again and pressed his lips on yours with no warning. He was so passionate and thirsty about it. You let out a moan, trying to push him away to breath.

"Oh dear God." You exhaled.

"That's it, my love, he's going to hear you calling him many times tonight." He aggressively turned you around, to face the window while your body was standing at the cabinet. Your butt wouldn't stop pressing against his bulge. Roger felt the tension in that area and grabbed your jaw with his palm to bring his mouth closer to your ear. "I wanna fuck you right against the glass so anyone can see how good you take it." He stated.

"Yeah, I better give them some taste of how good I take your cock." You fought back, provoking him for more intensity.

"I'm gonna take this shirt off you, I want to see your tits bouncing, I don't fucking care." He turned you around and ripped that shirt off you. He made you sit at the cabinet, with your naked back against the window. Alcohol was acting way upon your sober selves. Sex was about to be passionate and intimidating.

Meanwhile, you took off his shirt and unzipped his jeans, leaving him to do the rest. He took off his underwear, revealing his hard cock, ready to fill you up entirely. You tried to take your thong off, but he stopped you, "No, on this round, I want to fuck you while wearing that." His hands placed your thighs and his face came closer to your wet area, giving it a fast lick. "Fuck, you're soaking wet." He looked at you surprised.

"Do what you have to do Roger, please stop playing around." You begged. You needed his cock.

"So needy for me? I like it." He smirked and came to your face for a kiss.

His face returned to your pussy, licking it and fucking it with two of his fingers. Your backside was already getting the freeze from outside but Roger tried to warm you up entirely. "God-" you moaned.

"That's it baby, you taste so nice." He moaned between his actions.

"Roger, I don't want to cum yet!" You closed your eyes and twirled your toes, denying your climax.

"You can have another orgasm again, I know you can do it." His mouth was sucking your area like he was starving, he wouldn't leave that area unbothered, that's for sure. Your hand was pressing his head closer to your clit, practically begging for more sucking. "That's enough for now." he came at your face again, kissing you passionately and then, his tongue entered your mouth giving you a taste of what was like down there. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard you forget that guy's name." he obviously mentioned the guy you were seeing and at the end didn't act like a man.

"Don't be gentle." You vouched between your heavy breathings and Roger helped you spread your one leg a little wider. His hand grabbed the thong's string and pulled it at your inner thigh to get inside you. And now his hard cock was in you, feeling you up entirely. "Ah- God!" You loudly moaned at his fast and hard thrusts that made you lose balance.

"I'd hold onto something, If I were you." He stated with a crooked smile on his face and his one hand grabbed your thigh, squeezing it while the other held your thong. At his statement, you hold the cabinet's edges and it seemed helpful. You were intensely looking whether his cock thrusting inside you or his eyes which looked at the same directions as you. "Fucking hell, you're so hot." He moaned behind his teeth. "So tight for me." he closed his eyes and his head tilted back. "You like being fucked against the window, don't you?" He asked and kissed you.

"Yeah-" you shouted because of his thrusts and the cold you felt at your back. You weren't thinking about the neighbours' seeing you getting fucked; instead, you were focused on Roger's dick. You enjoyed every second of it.

"But you won't cum yet, right?" He wasn't inside you anymore and that void between your thighs now made you whimper. "What? I'll fuck you on the bed too, what did you think?" He playfully asked and pulled you up in his lap, trying to lay you on bed.

"Oh God, Roger, you're gonna do what you had said earlier?" You rolled your eyes because you remember him saying that he owes you an orgasm delay, a wall fucking- which took place at his cabinet, against the window and a good fuck; on four.

"Of course love, I keep my words." He bit his lip and grabbed a condom from his nightstand, preparing himself for the second round. He was standing next to the bed and his hard cock was coming closer to you. "Help me put on the condom. I want to feel your hands over me." He seductively whispered and helped him do what he said. Touching his dick was something he loved about you. You were teasing him and did so many things with it.

"Now what?" You bit your lip and smiled at him.

"This cock isn't gonna suck itself so you better start." He demanded and let you do what it pleases him the most. You laid on his bed, with your head at the place he was standing.

Your hand grabbed his dick, jerking him off, up and down until your tongue sucked his balls, "Christ, fuck!" He moaned at your move and kept doing it until you wanted to actually suck his penis. Your mouth could take him all and you couldn't get enough of it. His hands pressed your face against his cock, at the terms of choking you. You gagged at the lack of oxygen and stopped for a second to smile at him. "You take it so well baby." He encouraged you to keep doing it, with fast moves, until you could feed his thighs trembling. "Yeah, that's enough... I don't wanna cum yet. Not until you're on four." He placed his knees on bed and leaned down to kiss you deeply.

"You're so impatient for it, your mistresses never satisfied you on that?" You laughed and took off your thong staying finally naked.

"They're not you. Now turn over and get on all fours." He started. "Remember, be loud. Give me those moanings I love to hear." He kissed your back before assuming his position.

You stabilized yourself at bed's top, where he used to tie you from time to time. His dick was slowly getting inside your vagina again, trying to make it less painful because that position was always hard for you. You had to take his entire size inside you so you need more time to settle. "Ah, fuck, Roger!" You shouted over the pillows after feeling his dick moving in and out you.

"You're taking it so good babe..." he moaned as his hands grabbed your thighs and pulled them closer to him, trying to lock any distance between your bodies.

Roger having the entire control behind you, made you feel protected; he liked being dominant in bed, liked being the one in control but that never meant he wouldn't listen to your needs or take care of you after sex. You trusted him on that and you definitely liked being sub.

"Moan my name loudly, I want the neighbours to know it was me." He moaned within his thrusts that wouldn't let you breathe normally.

"Fuck, Roger!" You shouted at the slap he gave you combined with your hand that travelled down there to rub your clit.

"You like getting spanked, hm?" He nervously asked, waiting for your loud answer. He knew it was one of your kinks, he would definitely get advantage of that.

"Christ, Roger, yes I do!" You chanted, with your voice cracking in the middle of the sentence.

His hand took yours off your clit, doing the work for you. He wouldn't stop thrusting inside you until he came. He wanted it to be intense and sweaty and he succeeded, for both of you.

"My name sounds so good when you moan it." He said between his heavy breathes and laid on top of you with his dick still inside you. "But I can't see that pretty mouth of yours doing it, so I'll stick with your ass. I like the view." He implied.

"You have to go a little harder if you want your neighbours to hear me." You provoked him to go faster than earlier. You wanted to feel your walls tighten. You didn't have to lie about him but giving you enough pleasure. It was part of the game.

"Oh, you shouldn't have said that." His dick was taken out of you and aggressively turned you around. Now your front side was his view and he looked excited about it.

"Haven't cummed yet right?" He asked and placed his lips on yours. You nodded when his hand grabbed yours on top of bed. "Well, as good as it feels, you will have to try to keep yourself together for my final thrusts. Deal?" He asked and wanked his dick for a few seconds before thrusting inside you again.

"Deal." You answered and prepared yourself for the hard part. Have his entire length inside you. It was a hard task for you, uneasy to hold yourself together.

"Oh, and say the safe word if it gets too far." He added, reminding both of you that you have limits. "Red, isn't it?" He asked.

"Yes." You smiled and arched your back to kiss him.

His pelvis was moving like it had no bones, his thrusts would end you soon enough and you didn't want that. You didn't want any leg paralysis or Roger wouldn't give you his aftercare nor his own climax.

"Remember to be loud." He reminded but how could you forget? You weren't loud at your sober moments. But when you were drunk, it was out of control.

"Rog- Oh God!" Your moan was loud this time, at his attempt to thrust his entire size inside you. That was definitely easy-to-hear.

"That's my girl, you take my cock so nice." He encouraged you and couldn't stop staring at your tits, bouncing up and down. "Who's in charge?" He asked trying to feel assured that he is dominant.

"You are." You said and his hands, led you behind his back, setting you free from his restriction of not letting you touch your clit.

"And who's in charge?" he asked again with his legs almost trembling, making it visible now that he's almost ready to come.

"You are- fuck!" You, being so loud gave him pure satisfaction. He liked feeling dominant, being your orgasm provider. "God, Roger, I'm coming."

"That's it baby, cum for me, moan my name as you tighten around me." He moaned back and locked your legs around his waist, with no void between you. You felt your legs shaking when your climax approached and that energy passed through Roger's body. He was too close on coming with you.

"Ah fuck Roger!" you arched your back while Roger was rubbing your clit, to let you cum. He was so focused on that, his eyes wouldn't stop looking at you becoming a mess beneath him.

"Come on, love, do it. For me." He teased your pussy to finally let you squirt. At that second he took his dick out of your area until you squirted, with the liquids landing at the sheets, on his lower stomach and his penis. "That's my girl." He rewarded you with a kiss and let your hands give him a handjob.

"Roger, that was amazing." You said between your breaths and he finally laid next to you.

"God, agree... It's been ages since I felt so ecstatic." he looked at you and there was silence. You waited for each other to gain some stamina. It was only ten minutes after that and he went to the bathroom to clean himself. "How are you feeling?" He asked when he entered the bedroom again.

"Maybe tired... I don't know how productive will I be at work tomorrow." You laughed.

"At least you're gonna be hella hot, have you seen yourself on sex?" He boosted your confidence.

"Ah stop it." You joked. "I'll go clean myself." You stood up from his bed and walked past him. You gained a gentle slap on your butt and...

"I prepared you a babble bath, I think you need it. I'll change the sheets as long as you're bathing," he told and you nodded fully excited about your after-care routine. He always liked to be the guy who's in charge when it comes to after-care. He liked making you feel you're under his wing.

At your bath time, it was all so calm and satisfying. Nothing could ruin your moment. You were at Roger's home, at his bath. He had probably laid on the bed waiting for you, so you didn't lose any more time. You just grabbed the towel he left for you and walked through his bedroom.

"Rog have you seen the-" You stopped after seeing him snoring at his bedside. "Ah.." you awed.

You got dressed again, wearing his shirt and clean underwear and finally laying for a nice and comfy sleep. You heard exhaling when you found your comfortable side and by then, his hands wrapped your waist, not letting you go.

The next day would be hard for both of you. You didn't know what was coming.

[ithehellisbucky]

Today

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Requested: None

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Clasutraphobia, panic, anxiety, implied PTSD, trust issues, angst, fluff, mental illness, trauma, anxiety attack, sexual innuendos

Author’s Note: Let me know if I missed anything in the warnings, and let me know if I got anything wrong or misportrayed in the part where the stuck in the elevator, I want to be as accurate and informed as possible, and I definitely don’t want to be offensive.

My Masterlist

~

Today was a good day. A very good day. Not only a good day, but a great day. Bucky was doing okay. He was smiling, he was happy. Happy is always a good thing, especially with Bucky.

For starters, this morning was amazing. You woke up to an empty bed. And at first, you freaked out, normally when you the bed next to you was empty Bucky was having an episode. You looked around to see if anything was broken or damaged, but surprisingly nothing was. The blinds were even pulled open.

You get up and pushed the thin sheets off your body, causing you to remember last night's escapades with a smile. You stagger to the clean laundry pile, grabbing one of Bucky's shirts and pulling it over your head with a tug.

You stretch and feel your back crack, reminding you that its morning.

Walking into your kitchen in the mornings almost always brings a smile to your face. Perhaps it was the yellow rays of sunshine lighting up the room, or it could be the promise of breakfast. Today was no exception.

You were greeted to a shirtless Bucky, making pancakes and letting out a string of curse words whenever anything goes wrong.

You lean in the doorway for a minute, in the stereotypical romantic movie way. Bucky turns around and looks slightly shocked when he sees you standing there. "Shit, doll. I wanted to have breakfast ready for you woke u-"

You walk over to him and cut him off with a kiss, gently tugging him down to your height by his hair. He wraps both of his arms around your waist and you leave your hand in his hair while you wrap the other one around the back of his neck. Bucky spins you around and carefully picks you up and puts you on the kitchen island, deepening the kiss. 

You pull away for a heartbeat and say: "It's okay," before pulling him back towards your body. The two of you make out on the counter for a minute before you smell something burning. 

"Do you smell something burning?" You ask, pulling away from Bucky's lips, much to his protest.

"Shit shit shit." He exclaims, letting go of your body to run to the stove, attempting to save whatever's left of the pancakes.

You laugh at his charming forgetfulness, he was definitely an old man. 

"I'm going to get some cereal from the fridge unless you think you can salvage the pancakes?" You state with a giggle. 

"Yeah, that's probably for the best," Bucky responds. "None of these are eatable."

You walk over to your refrigerator and open the door to get the milk. Bucky's arms snake around your waist and he rests his chin on your shoulder. "I love you." 

"Relax, I was only getting milk." You exclaim with a chuckle. You spin around to face him and quickly peck him on the lips. "I love you too."

Bucky smiles into the kiss, and for a second you think he's shoving you into the fridge, and then you realize he's getting the milk. "Hm, I see you have an alternative motive."

"I only have eyes for you, Doll. 2% milk is no competition." Bucky smiles and lets you go. He reaches to the top of the fridge and grabs a box of cheerios. He puts the milk and cereal on the counter as you sit on one of the stools. 

"You seem to be having a good day." You exclaim as Bucky slides a bowl of cereal in front of you.

"I am." He says, going to sit across from you as you take a bite of your cereal. "God, did I tell you how fucking beautiful you are today." He says as more of a statement than a question.

"I think you just did." You say, spooning some cereal into your mouth. 

Bucky smiles a weathered smile and then perks up. "I just remembered, I got us a reservation at that place Pepper was talking about."

"The french place?" Bucky nods, his smile never wavering. "God, I can't wait to sink my teeth into a twelve dollar eclair." 

"Mm, what time is it?" You exclaim, confused at your lack of exhaustion, especially since you fell asleep at 1 am. 

"10." Bucky shrugs even though he's probably checked the clock at least twenty times since he woke up.

"It's 10!" You blurt, all while Bucky is sitting across from you, chuckling as he spoons cereal into his mouth. "I slept for 9 hours!"

Bucky grins, and you smile at his happiness. "It's nice to see you so happy." 

You put down your bowl of cereal and walk over to Bucky and stand behind him, resting your chin on his head and wrapping your arms around his waist. You plant a kiss on his shoulder. "I'm going to go take a shower."

"Okay," Bucky says as you walk to your bathroom.

"Are you coming." You exclaim from over your shoulder, looking for just long enough to see Bucky stand up, his smirk as prolific as ever.

~

You and Bucky made it out of your apartment at 12, after a very... Relaxing shower. 

Most of the time Bucky preferred to show no PDA, for fear of one of his enemies seeing and hurting you. Today was different. Bucky had his arm draped over your shoulder as you walked, he would smile every time he looked at you. Nobody would guess that this happy man had been through such tragedy. His past didn't define his future.

Instead of taking a taxi or the subway you and Bucky opted to walk the distance on the sidewalks of New York City. 

The two of you got an amazing apartment in Brooklyn for surprisingly cheap. You were pretty certain that Pepper did some meddling with your landlord, but you didn't care (and Bucky pretended he didn't know, even though you were certain he did).

The weather today was reflecting your mood. Bright and sunny. Today was such a good day. You and Bucky reach the restaurant after about an hour of peaceful walking. Bucky holds the door open for you like the complete gentleman he is.

The restaurant is insanely nice. Like, 12 dollar eclair nice. "Buck, do you think we can afford this place." You ask, immediately skeptical of the three forks and silk napkins.

"It's okay Doll," Bucky says, reassuring you in the most Bucky way.

"Do you have a reservation?" A woman's voice asked. Startled, you turn to see the hostess standing in front of you with a lively smile on her face.

"Yeah, Barnes," Bucky says, keeping his arms wrapped around you, an unusual cocky smile on his face. 

The woman smiles and looks down at her list, then looks back at you and Bucky and simply says: "Right this way."

The woman leads you and Bucky to a table next to the window, in the front of the store. Bucky pulls the chair away from the table for you and pushes you back in when you sit down.

You had rarely see Bucky smile this big, or smile at all frankly. Picking up the menu that the hostess put down on the table you quickly scan the sheet. Even though you were expecting the items to be pricey, you weren't expecting this. Hell, the eclairs weren't 12 dollars, they were 14.

You frantically look up at Bucky, concerned about the prices. Instead of seeing an incredibly distraught face, you were instead met with a beaming Bucky, adoration written across his features.

"What?" You ask, his smile spreading to your face.

"Nothing, I just love you so much." He reaches over the table and clutches your hand lovingly. Today was a good day.

~

The food was really expensive. But Bucky didn't care. And neither did you. Bucky was so happy, and nothing could make you happier than that.

You finished up lunch at 2:30, after several 14 dollar eclairs. Bucky takes your hand in his as you walk back to your apartment. He was no longer smiling, but his eyes were, much more than his mouth ever could.

After the half an hour-long trek the two of you finally made it back to your apartment building. You start to walk towards the stairs when Bucky catches your arm. "It's okay Doll."

Bucky had a phobia of small spaces. It reminded him of what Hydra would do to him, keep him strapped into a chair, and then throwing him into a tiny cell when they were done. Bucky only took the elevator when he needed to, or when he was too overwhelmed to know what he was doing. The point is, whenever Bucky had the choice, he would never use the elevator.

But today he did the opposite. "Are you sure, you don't need to feel like you have to." You respond, stroking the side of Bucky's face. 

"I'm alright, I promise," Bucky says, grabbing both of your hands and holding them in a loving embrace.

With your hand in his, you walk to the elevator, reassuring him by placing one of your hands on his shoulder. Bucky leans over and pushes the button for number 4, waiting patiently for the doors to close. "If you need to get off just let me know, we can stop at any time." You exclaim in the most calming voice you can muster.

As the doors to the elevator close, you hear Bucky take in a sharp and ragged breath. You put your other hand on his chest to calm him and his breathing seems to steady. The elevator moves upward and you can hear the sound of clanking as it reached each floor. When you reach the second floor you lean into Bucky and quietly say: "It's okay Baby, it's halfway done." All Bucky does is reach down and grab your hand, squeezing it to remind himself that you're there.

As the number flashes to the third floor you wait for it to go onto the fourth, but it doesn't. The elevator stops altogether. No. No. Of all people this could've happened to, it had to be Bucky. 

You immediately turn to meet Bucky's eyes, facing him and seeing the panic on his face. His eyes immediately flit around the room, looking for any possible exit and finding that there are not. 

"Bucky. Bucky. I need you to look at me." He avoids your eyes and continues to exam the room, looking for any crack or opening that he could take advantage of. His eyes set on the place where the sliding doors connect. "Bucky, please don't try to pull the doors open, it'll make it worse."

Bucky doesn't speak. He walks towards the doors and tries to put his fingers between the two doors. Bucky puts the tip of his fingers in the crack and tries to pry it open. It leaves a dent, but alas the doors don't budge. 

You try to touch Bucky, but right when you make contact with his skin he winces, and you pull away. You low your voice to a whisper, trying not to harm Bucky in any way. "Bucky, baby." 

Bucky turns back around to you, panic surging in his eyes. At first, you're terrified that you're no longer speaking to Bucky, but the Winter Soldier instead. In an instant, you were sure that the man standing in front of you wasn't the Winter Soldier, but someone desperately afraid of becoming him.

Bucky slams his hands into the wall and pulls another one up to rake against his face and hair. You lean in from across the elevator to see tears building up in Bucky's eyes. If you were another person, and Bucky meant something different to you, you would be fearful for your life. But you weren't somebody else, and Bucky meant the world to you; you were more scared for Bucky than for yourself. Bucky wouldn't hurt you, but would you accidentally hurt Bucky?

You walk closer to Bucky, and for the third time, you attempt to calm him. "Bucky." That was all you said. Not as a question, and without any hesitancy in your voice. It was a statement.

Bucky turns around to look at you, the heartbreak in his eyes more evident than ever, and a tear rolls down his face. Bucky staggers over to you and wraps his body around yours, making you carry some of the emotional and physical weight on Bucky's body and mind.

"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes." You feel his tears sinking through your shirt as he clutches you tighter. You continue, "You were born on March 10th in 1917." 

You slowly sink your body downward, taking Bucky down with you. "Your best friend is Steve Rogers." You lower yourself further. "In 1943 you enlisted in the army." Your voice lowers to a whisper as your body drops even further.

"You were assigned to the 107th." You reach the ground, "and were captured by Hydra." Bucky's breath hitches, and you wish you could skip this part of the story; but alas, you had to tell the bad parts before you could tell the good ones. "But you were rescued by Captain America."

You scoot your and Bucky's bodies towards the wall of the elevator.

"You joined the Howling Commandos." You say, pushing yourself further towards the wall. "But then you fell off a train."

Your back hits the wall and Bucky squeezes you harder, either from the slight impact or from news you just recited, probably both. "And was captured again by Hydra." You reposition yourself, putting Bucky's head in your lap, his body faces diagonally towards the middle of the elevator.

"You lost your arm." Bucky's face scrunches up, and you respond by stroking his hair, which visibly calms him down. "Hydra tortured you." That was the line that you said the quietest, but Bucky still shoots straight upwards. 

You grab his face in both of your hands. Bucky doesn’t wince, and you realize it’s because he knows that you would never hit him. You were one of the few people who would never hit him, and from what you’ve heard there aren’t as many people in Bucky’s life who would never physically hurt him as you wished there would be. "Inside your of your mind, Hydra created someone called the Winter Soldier." Even more, tears streaked down Bucky's face, and you rested his forehead on yours. "They used the Winter Soldier to do horrible things." You clutch Bucky tighter to your chest.

"Eventually you were rescued by Steve Rogers." Making a point to say his best friend's whole name, to reassure him that he was saved by an ally, not a foe. "He turned you back into Bucky."

Bucky was violently shaking at this point, so much that his metal arm was hitting the ground, making loud noises. "And Steve found you again." Bucky calmed down slightly, shaking less than he was before. "A man named Tony Stark waged war on you because of something the Winter Soldier did."

You pressed a light kiss onto Bucky's forehead, not wanting to startle him too much. "You and Mr. Stark made peace." Bucky calmed down more, and his body was shaking less. "And a woman named Shuri made sure that the Winter Soldier wouldn't come back." At this point, Bucky's body was almost entirely still, except for the occasional stutter. You were unhappy that you had to tell this next part as well.

"Then a man named Thanos waged a war." Bucky started shaking again, and he reached out his metal arm behind you to steady himself, which in the process caused his arm to make the clanking noise again as he shook. "And he wiped out half of the world." You pause for a moment, taking in a long and strangled breath "including you."

Bucky starts to shake even more, so you gently pull his head down to your chest, so he can hear your heartbeat. So he can know that you are alive and safe. "But you got brought back to life, by Mr. Stark none the less."

Bucky's choked sobs have slowed, and been replaced with silent tears. Your shirt was fully soaked, but that didn't matter. All that matters is that Bucky feels safe. That Bucky is safe. "Steve went back to the forties." Bucky's breath hitches again.

"Then you met me." Bucky stops breathing as heavily and looks up to meet your eyes. "You are safe." 

You pause, pressing a kiss to Bucky's temple "You are loved." You hadn't even realized it, but tears were streaking down your face.

Bucky sits up and stares you in the eyes. He wipes the tears off his face and feigns a small smile. "I'm safe?" He tries to say as a statement, but it comes off as a question instead. 

You put your hand on the top of his neck, resting just below his chin. "Yeah." You swallow, looking him dead in the eyes. "They can't hurt you anymore."

Bucky doesn't say anything, he simply leans in and kisses you. Not a passionate kiss, not a sensual kiss, but a loving kiss. A kiss that's only message was thank you. A kiss that both you and Bucky needed.

"I love you." He exclaims in a voice so quiet that if he had said it any lower you wouldn't be able to hear.

You pecked him on the lips and said a line that would be insensitive if you weren't in this current situation: "I know." You pause for a moment, and then remember something that you should have done the second the elevator stops: push the damn emergency button. 

Bucky is still holding onto you with a death grip, but the panel is a few feet away. You lean in closer to Bucky's head and whisper "hey Bucky, I have to let someone know we're stuck in here."

Bucky nods slightly, but when you go to move he maintains his grip on your body. Bucky's still shaking, although not as dramatically as before it's probably a good idea to stay holding onto him. When you look down at him he looks away, seemingly guilty for keeping you rooted in one spot.

"It's okay, I'll call Judy on my phone." Judy was your landlady, a nice woman in her late 60s. Judy had straight grey hair that she always wore with one lock of hair braided in the front. She was the type of person who sold hand-made tye-dye t-shirts at the front desk and talked about going to Woodstock like it was yesterday.

You had her number on speed dial and she picked up almost immediately after you started ringing. "Hello dear." She says, her soothing voice immediately calming you down.

"Um, we're, uh." You look down at Bucky, whose is at this point resting with his head on your lap while you were running your fingers through his hair. His eyes were closed and his body was still shaking, the sound of his metal arm clanging against the floor making the sharp metallic sound echo throughout the elevator.

You put your hand over your mouth in a certain way to make sure that only Judy could hear you. "We're trapped in the elevator." Bucky still hears, despite your best efforts, and flinches at the word trapped.

Judy gasps slightly and then begins frantically talking: "Oh dear lord, tell me what happened! Is James okay?" Judy always called Bucky James, and if it was almost anyone else he would be pissed, but no one could ever be pissed at Judy.

"Um, we're, uh- getting through it." Bucky grabs your hand and holds onto it for dear life, all while you move from running your hands through his hair to rubbing his temple. "Could you do me a favor and call the fire department?" You ask politely, even though in reality all you want is to freak out and get this fucking thing over with.

"Yes, I'll call them right now. Now dearie if you need anything just let me know. I am so terribly sorry that this happened to you and James."

"Thanks, Judy, I'll let you know." You hang up the phone and look back down at Bucky.

"How are you doing baby?" Bucky's eyes open and rest at a squint.

"I'm here." He exclaims, stating a fact that may seem useless to anyone else besides you. He was here. Bucky was here. Right now being here is the best you could hope for.

Bucky sits up, and you stroke a strand of hair out of his face. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Well, we're talking right now," Bucky says with a forced chuckle.

You smile for a split second and then lean in to kiss his hairline. "If you don't want to you don't have to."

"No. I- I do." Bucky gulps and looks away. "It's just- I've been through so much with Bucky. It just, uh- kind of shocked me that Steve would leave me. I trusted him." He looks back up and you can see tears glistening in his eyes.

"I know, I don't think that he knew what he was doing." You run your hand along his face again and watch a tear roll down his cheek. "I'm sorry baby, but you do know that I'm not going to leave you." You pause for a moment, creasing your brow. "Right?"

Bucky looks away, blinking several times. "I'm not going to leave you Bucky." You halt and run your fingers through your hair, trying to think of something that could calm him down. "I can't imagine not loving you, and I can't imagine a reason for leaving that love behind."

"I have something I want to ask you," Bucky exclaims as you go back to running your fingers through his hair.

"Shoot." You respond, trying to force yourself to calm down.

"I shouldn't. I- I mean I shouldn't right now." He gulps.

"Why not?" You ask, your brow creasing in worry, the artificial serenity on your face subtly being destroyed.

"Because you deserve it to be perfect, you are perfect." Bucky takes a long and shallow breath then continues. "And if you're with someone as obviously imperfect as me... Then at least the moment should be perfect.

He looks you in the eyes and sees the confusion. "I- I should do it now. But, since it's not perfect, I'll do it again later." He swallows. "I- I just need to know the answer, to, um- calm me down."

"Okay baby, what is it." You exclaim, worry creasing in between your brows.

He sits up and fumbles with something in his pocket. 

Oh my god

Holy fucking shit.

It was a velvet box.

He opens the box to reveal a classical engagement ring. You can't speak. Your hands go flush to your face and you can't speak. Bucky Barnes was sitting in an elevator, holding a wedding ring. For you.

Bucky's face drops when he notices that you haven't said anything. "Do you want to pretend like I didn't just do this. Or should we break up? I'm sorry, I just-" He pauses, and that's when you remember what he had gone through just minutes before.

There were dried tears on his face, and his body was still shaking. "I was having a good day." He says as a tear rolls down his cheeks. "Because I knew that I was going to propose to my girl today."

Bucky is at this point fully sobbing. He looks like he's going to go in to cry on your shoulder, but then he stops himself. That's when you realize that you never answered his question.

"Yes." You say at almost a complete whisper.

Bucky's eyes snap to your face and his entire demeanor changes. He immediately starts to smile and he completely lets down the guard that he was holding in his body language. "You want to marry me?" He asks, out of breath from nothing.

"More than I've ever wanted anything before." Bucky smiles and his tears stop. His shaking hands move to slide the ring onto your finger. Once the ring is on your finger you hold it up to the LED light projecting into the room. The diamond sparkles.

Bucky leans towards your face and presses a tender kiss onto your lips. You may be stuck in an elevator, and Bucky may still be healing, but you knew one thing for sure: you and Bucky will be alright.

Requests are open!

~Taglists are open~

Permanent Tags: @natasha-danvers​

Marvel:

Young Justice:

[knightofameris]

an outstanding performance — marvel (stark!reader)

Setting: an AU where Peter never quit band and Michelle, Flash, and others are also in band, platonic fic!!! Gender: Neutral! Contains: fluff Word Count: 3.7k (I GOT CARRIED AWAY HOLY SHIT)

Summary: Being Tony’s kid meant everyone expected you to be some prodigy in some way. And you were—a musical prodigy at least. The last year of marching band was approaching and you’re definitely gonna be heartbroken. But as long as you had Peter, Ned, and MJ by your side it’ll all be okay

a/n: I wanted to pump something out since I haven’t posted and I’ve always wanted to write something with Peter in band because I WAS A BAND KID IN HIGH SCHOOL. So. It’s also not my best work but I had fun because i reALLY MISS BAND. AND THIS IS JUST A COMFORT FIC FOR ME TBH LMAO [repost from my old account @knightofmarvel​]

There’s a lot of band terms that I don’t think people will understand unless you were a band kid so here’s a little… mini explanation. This is what I used for my band by the way.

Sound off = just be louder I guess? Met = metronome The box = the area in the stadium where the announcer is always in Trumpet, mellophone, baritone/euphonium, tuba = brass instruments Flute, clarinet, alto sax, tenor sax, bari sax, bass clarinet = woodwind instruments Percussion = anything you can hit with a stick basically (including piano because piano keys control something that hits the string) Guard/color guard = the people who spin flags, sabers, and rifles. They also toss it in the air and do other crazy shit (deadass, guard people were so badass i dont get why people called them discount cheerleaders when guard works just has hard, if not harder. like u try tossing a fucking rifle up in the air. this girl legitimately went an entire show after splitting her brow causing her to bleed horribly and finished smiling soooo) Drum majors = people who conduct and is also basically in charge of the entire band Reps = doing something over and over, usually a certain exercise in music or marching technique or a certain part(s) of the show Set = Can mean multiple things, either a certain part of the show or getting ready for the rep they’re about to do (usually shown by holding the instrument up in “set” position) Stand-by = relaxed but still in attention Holding at pistol/rifle = more relaxed but usually saved in show or when instructors/whoever tells stories. Different instruments have different positions thus the pistol/rifle Horns up = instrument in mouth Horns down = instrument not in mouth, same position as Set.

Let me know if there are any mistakes!  **no beta, we die like men

Enjoy! 

“Senior year boyyysssssssss!” You screamed once you entered campus that warm summer morning. Ned and Peter turned around to see you running towards them, about to tackle them. Other band leaders, and especially the senior drum majors, cheered with you.

Ned and Peter, however, did not.

Instead, their eyes widened in fear and they raised their arms up, telling you to not jump at them. But alas, it was too late and you tackled them to the ground.

“Dog pile!” Someone, Adam (one of the drum majors) probably, shouted. And one by one, a group of your fellow bandmates fell on top of you. Each one of them caused you to let out a breath. Peter and Ned taking the brute of it.

“Alright alright, you idiots,” your band directed teased. You all looked up to see Mrs. Ha standing there with her hands on her hips. “Get up, you guys are scaring the freshmen.” She glanced over to the bandroom door where tiny heads were sticking out.

“Oh shit,” you muttered, everyone starting to stand up off of each other. You raised both of your hands down for Peter and Ned, they both took it and you helped them up.

“Damn, (Y/n), why’d you have to do that?” Ned asked. He then reached down for his hat. Something that was mandatory for all band members to wear during practice. Especially during band camp in the summer.

“It’s tradition!” You cheered, wrapping your arm around each of their neck. “Can you guys believe it? We’re seniors.”

“Yeah, and you’re woodwind captain man,”  Peter nudged you in the side.

You grinned and then walked in front of them to grab your backpack, clarinet case, and water jug. You turned around once they were all in hand. “Yeah, but at least I got my two trusty section leaders to lead with me.”

“What about me?”

The three of you turned around to see MJ with her hand on her hip. She had a slight smirk on her face.

“Uh,” you started to say, “to be fair, you’re in the brass section.”

“You could have switched,” MJ retorted, walking up to you and lightly punching you in the shoulder.

And you could have. Afterall, you were a musical prodigy. Especially considering the fact that you were the kid of Tony Stark. You didn’t have much of a knack for STEM, decent at it but only when you put in the extra work to the point of stress. But you had a knack for music.

Your dad noticed your gravitation towards music when you were a toddler and when you didn’t enjoy being in the lab as much as he thought you would have been, as a Stark. But you enjoyed music so he signed you up for piano classes. Then you wanted to learn more instruments and made your way through the wind instruments and then more percussion instruments. From flute to clarinet to alto saxophone, from trumpet to french horn, to, of course, piano and the drumset. You had a lot of range. The clarinet being your favorite instrument to play.

You narrowed your eyes at MJ, “But then you wouldn’t have been brass captain. And do you think I can leave the woodwinds to be left in charge by these losers?” You pointed to Peter and Ned.

“Hey!” They both protested.

“Guys! Roll call is soon and they’re introducing all the leaders to the entire band,” Adam said, holding the metronome in his hand.

“Yeah, got it,” You and Michelle said, both with a slight authoritative tone in your guys’ voice. You both exchanged glances with a raised brow.

“Wow, the captain in you guys is really coming out,” Peter teased. You both rolled your eyes. You went to go walk beside Michelle. On the way into the bandroom.

“Oh man, I just hope I don’t accidentally make a freshman pee their pants this year.” You walked straight into the bandroom and Peter laughed, remembering that clearly last year when you were section leader.

“I just don’t want to do running block,” Ned complained, trudging behind you. “I hate band camp.”

“Ditto,” MJ remarked. Peter shot her a look.

“Shouldn’t you be hyping it up, for the freshmen?”

MJ shrugged, “Yeah, but I can complain to you guys.”

“Fair enough.”

***

“Sound off guys!” You shouted as the band did reps across the field in across-the-floors. In a moment, the voices of the members got louder, counting in time with the met. You looked around yourself, making sure there were no members dicking around too much. With it being so far into the marching season already, you didn’t want any of them to dick around so much where they’d regret it if your guys’ band didn’t perform to the best of your ability at your last competitions.

Your eyes met Peter’s as he prepped to step off on the other side. He stuck his tongue out then faced forward with his clarinet in hand. His mouth moving with his voice being just loud enough to be heard as he began to count off. He was the backline with three other freshmen near him who didn’t count at all. All three of them clarinets as well.

You called out their names, telling them to sound off until one of the visual instructors cut the metronome. Peter continued, trying to keep time without it loud enough for the freshmen to stay with him.

“Alright, stop!” The instructor, Alicia, shouted. Peter stopped, relaxing his arms and putting his clarinet in his hand with standby. The entire band stared at him in silence, waiting for what he had to say. “We have three more competitions to go. One more football game. And then we have Grand Nationals. We’ve been doing this since June. It’s October! I’m doing all I can to push you guys, it doesn’t matter if you’re a freshman anymore. You’ve been in this program so you know what we expect. In the end, it’s up to all of you guys how bad you want it. Do you guys want to make finals?”

A chorus of yeah’s came from the students. Something caught your eye as the instructor continued to talk. Flash was dicking around, mocking the instructor and when the instructor was quiet you called him out.

“Hey Flash, why don’t you run a lap?” You asked. Lucky you, he was an alto saxophone, so completely in your control.

“Wh-What? Why? I didn’t do anything,” Flash argued. You raised a brow.

“Oh really? So you weren’t even listening to Alicia as she was talking?” You retorted. “You said you weren’t doing anything right? I guess that’s still a lap.” Someone next to him nudged him, telling him not to argue and he groaned.

He walked off to the side, setting his instrument down.

“Next time, don’t mock her when she’s trying to help us. Especially since you’re the only senior who doesn’t sound off.” Flash glared at you while you kept a smirk on your face.

He murmured, “Fucking Stark.” Then went off into the run. That’ll earn him a talk after practice.

“Thanks, (Y/n),” Alicia said, shooting you a smile. You gave her a nod

Percussion and color guard began walking into the stadium and prepped to practice with the rest of the band.

“Alright, I’ll cut this rep short, go grab a gush and wait for instructions,” Alicia ordered. The teenagers began to run off the field and towards their water jugs were with their own section.

“I don’t get why Flash is even more annoying,” Peter muttered. You and Peter watched Flash continue to run around the track as you drank water from your jug.

“It’s probably because he didn’t get any leadership position,” Cindy suggested. She stood next to you two, also a clarinet section leader.

“Yeah, well, Ned deserved the alto sax position,” you said. “Not Flash, he’s an asshole.” The other two nodded their heads.

A high pitched whining noise came from the box and everyone flinched and groaned, staring up at it.

“Oh, sorry guys,” the band director, Mrs. Ha, said. “Hornline captains, lead the warm up for your section. Mr. C and I won’t have enough time this practice.”

You turned to face your section, calling out to them and raising your instrument in the air. You led them to wear the respective drum major that conducted for the woodwinds for warm up stood on her podium. Everyone was wetting their reeds in their mouth, save for the flute players who stood in arc warming up their instrument. The reed players began placing their reeds on their mouth pieces, then also warming it up a bit. You walked around, talking to a few of the leaders here and there. Then walking up to one of the seniors in the clarinet section and making them center while also handing them a tuner for later.

With a wave of your hand and your fist closing, everyone stopped playing.

“Stand-by,” you called out. Each member stopped fidgeting and their ears looked to you attentively. “Set!”

In a ripple effect from the edge of the arc to the center, everyone brought their horns up. You smirked. “Nice job guys, we’ve come a long way since freshman band camp. Same warm up, make sure to watch the hands.” You pointed up to the drum major, Kay, who stood on top of the podium.

“Stand-by,” she called out once more. “Doing the woodwind warm up and make sure to watch my hands. Set!”

The rest of practice went by smoothly. The drum majors standing on the podium, instructors up in the box telling instructions through a mic for the head drum major to repeat. The entire band doing what was told. Parents sat in the stands watching their kids practice.

You could have sworn you saw your dad and a few others in the stands that practice. But you paid it no mind, he’d usually come to competitions but he had never gone to a practice.

So when practice was over and the band was dismissed, you, Peter, Ned, and MJ began to set back to the bandroom after all the underclassmen cleared out from the stadium. And after you gave Flash another stern talking about attitude and disrespecting instructors and leaders. Which led to him running a lap and then doing push-ups.

You and MJ were pushing the huge water jugs back as well, all of your stuff riding on the bottom of the cart with MJ’s. All four of you were joking around when you heard a familiar voice.

“Hey kid!”

You jolted, turning around to see your dad standing there with Morgan on his shoulders. Rhodey, Pepper, Steve, and Natasha stood next to him, all of them with a smile on their face.

“Dad!” You called out, letting go of the cart and running up to him. Tony quickly set Morgan down and you hugged him. He let out an ‘oof’ on impact but hugged you back. “You’ve never came to practice before!”

“Well, I thought I should,” Tony said, kissing the top of your head. “You stink.” You tore away from him, laughing when you noticed his scrunched up face.

“Yeah, my hat’s kinda gross from practice.”

You turned to face Morgan and picked her up, setting her on your hip. You looked at the others, “Why are you guys here.”

“Got bored,” Rhodey answered. “Then thought, we might as well see what the musical Stark was up to.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“You’re so cool, (Y/n)!” Morgan hugged you around your neck. “But scary. Just like mommy!” Your dad and you chortled with laughter and Pepper shook her head, grabbing her out of your arms.  

“Yeah, you yelled at that kid for a good ten minutes,” Nat said. “Good job.”

“I’m surprised,” Steve spoke up. “I didn’t realize marching band was modeled after the military bands until Rhodey told me.”

“Yeah, you never came to one of my shows,” you playfully glared at him. But you began laughing and hit him lightly. “I’m kidding, you guys are always busy. But-” you looked at them, hopeful “-my last football game is this Friday. Then three more local competitions until Grand Nats in Indiana.”

The adults exchanged glances with each other.

“Well, you know Pep and I will be at Grand Nats,” Tony said, ruffling your hair.

“And me!” Morgan added.

“And Morgan,” Tony laughed.

“We’ll… Try.” Steve scratched the back of his head. “Sorry, (Y/n).”

“It’s cool,” you replied nonchalantly. “You guys are Avengers, other priorities.”

“Not to interrupt, but your friend looks like she’s struggling with the jugs.” Rhodey pointed behind you, and you saw MJ trying to push the jugs over a whole in the ground. Peter and Ned stood there, laughing at her. Your eyes widened and you bolted over to her after passing Morgan to your dad.

“Oh shit, sorry!”

***

The band sat in the stands, playing pep tunes whenever they were supposed to while the football game went on. You, of course, were dicking around with Peter and Ned. Ned sat behind you with his section and you sat beside Peter on the edge. MJ was far off in brassland, reading a book since she hated her section. She really hated trumpets.

Then the drum majors motioned to the saxes that they could do their thing and Ned stood up, ushering his section to stand up as well. You smiled, as this was one of your favorite traditions during football games.

Ned played the first note, and everyone following after. The tune of ‘Beautiful Girl’/’Stand By Me’ leaving the horns. There were a few pitch problems, but it’s not like it was a competition. Football games were always one to just relax, have fun, and do dumb shit.

Mrs. Ha even watched with a smile on her face.

“How do you think MJ’s faring?” You asked Peter. He looked back.

“Still reading her book,” he replied. “Dude, this is the last time we’re ever gonna hear Stand By me.”

You shoved Peter, “Bruh, don’t talk about it! I’m gonna cry.” He rolled his eyes at you.

“Okay, okay, fine,” he said. “This is the last time we wear our uniform for a football game.”

“Peter!”

Peter laughed, raising his arms up in the air to block you from trying to smack him.

“Man, I’ll just do Drum Corps or whatever after this,” you muttered after giving up on hitting Peter.

“You could, that’d be badass,” Peter said. “Maybe do like percussion like tenor drums or something.”

You nodded your head, “I totally should. I’m gonna miss band a lot.”

“Me too,” Peter sighed. “But at least we can focus more on our other extracurriculars.”

You raised a brow at him. “You mean your internship?” Peter nodded his head. “You should’ve just quit band man.”

He shrugged, “Yeah, but band is fun and you’re still in it with your internship. Though, I think MJ would have found out a lot sooner if I did though.”  You laughed, remembering how MJ was only slightly thrown off on Peter possibly being Spider-Man because of how he was able to be in band and a superhero. Though the same applied to you

“Okay, sure, but I don’t do missions on season, and I fight crime a little less,” you retorted. He laughed again at you, eyes filled with amazement. You were cheering at the football team, not that you knew what was going on. Just, everyone else was cheering plus it was fun.

Peter was always amazed at how smoothly you fit into the leader role, something that would put you at an advantage if you ever led the Avengers in the near future. It definitely helped when you led groups in missions or when none of the older adults were around in times of crises. Then whenever a freshman was upset or a band member got injured on the field, you always somehow ended up right next to them. Even tripping while running across the field but falling into a roll then jumping back up, then carrying said injured member off the field to make sure they were okay.

He laughed to himself, remembering each moment he shared with you and all the other band members. He’s going to miss it a lot, but he knew you’d miss it even more.

***

The sounds of cheering, the rush of adrenaline, the musical notes and perfect harmonies accompanying the melody reverberated throughout the stadium. Then when the last note came out of your horn and everyone snapped their horns down, panting and sweat glimmering on everyone’s forehead, you smiled. You started almost laughing with tears coming down your face.

You enjoyed jumping off buildings to feel the adrenaline and going through the city but that could never compare to performing. Especially considering all the hard work you, and the entire band, put in for this particular moment. Your smile widened even more when you saw both of the senior drum majors on the podium in front of you also smiling, panting, but tears in their eyes.

Then the bass drum hit and in time with the beat, the members marched off the field or went to their respective prop to push it off the field. You were part of the latter, meeting up with Peter at the same prop.

He flashed you a smile, “Don’t cry yet (Y/n), we gotta wait before the senior traditions.” Then you only started crying more when you realized you wouldn’t be on the receiving end anymore. You would be the senior participating in said traditions. You wiped the tears off with your gloves.

“Shut up, Peter,” you laughed. “I can’t help it, we made it into finals. That was our final performance.”

“Was it your best performance?” Peter asked. You just started bawling more, nodding your head. At this point you weren’t even pushing the prop, but you knew Peter didn’t even need help, being Spider-Man and all. “Then that’s all that matters.”

When the entire band made it out in the -5 degree cold air, putting their instruments away and giving the props to the band dads to put away, you finally stopped crying. Mostly because tears in this weather was always an ass with how cold it is, especially considering the uniform doesn’t give you any warmth. Before your band director could round everyone up to talk about how it was the best performance your band had ever performed this year, that it didn’t matter what place you got, you felt a small body wrap around your legs.

“(Y/n)!!”

“Mo! What are you doing?” You asked, picking her up into your arms. She was bundled in warm clothing and you saw your dad and Pepper. Then even in the distance, you saw the Avengers which made you beam.

“That was great,” your dad said, kissing the top of your head.

“Wait! No PDA in uniform.” you took a small step back. He rolled his eyes. “Kidding, I don’t care anymore. Thanks dad.” He ruffled your hair the moment you gave your shako (hat) for Morgan to hold.

“Yeah, honey, even your solo was amazing,” Pepper said, fixing your hair then kissing the top of your head.

“It was…” Morgan paused, her face scrunching as she went deep in thought. “An outstanding performance!” Morgan cheered, hugging you tightly. You, Tony, and Pepper exchanged glances.

With a raised brow, you asked, “Where’d she learn those words?”

“No clue.” Tony shrugged. Then he grabbed his dad-bag and pulled out a few cards and even small gifts. “By the way, this is from everyone. They’ll come stop by to say hi but after they have a mission to get to.”

A small smile made its way on your face and you even started crying again. Tony wrapped an arm around your shoulder, rubbing your arm up and down. Morgan held onto you even tighter and Pepper placed a comforting hand on your hand.

“Thank you for coming, I’m gonna miss this so much,” you sniffled. Looking around you at your bandmates and all the joyful tears being shed, the hugs, the laughter. None of them were even staring at your dad in this moment because of the last performance. Which says a lot. Well, save for a few but it didn’t matter.

“I know,” your dad said softly. “But you got to experience it and I am so proud of you, (Y/n). Section leader and then woodwind captain? Amazing. I can barely play piano for the life of me.”

You chuckled, “I can’t code for the life of me.”

“But one thing’s for certain,” Pepper said. “Starks are always a natural for their passions.”

Your band director called for everyone to gather around to give them one last after-performance talk for the end of the season. You stood next to MJ, Peter, and Ned. Some of you with tears in your eyes, but all of you with a sense of satisfaction coursing through you. Four years of band was difficult, but you all made due with each other.

You glanced back, towards your family and the other Avengers and you were so happy to know that there on the field, you knew they were all watching. They all supported you through your musical career and would never stop.

Then the drum majors dismissed all of you and you turned to try to talk to your family once more, even making eye contact with Steve until all the freshmen and other underclassmen bombarded you with hugs and being all teary eyed.

“Hey, don’t worry about it guys,” you mentioned, looking at Peter, Ned, and MJ, trying to get them to help you out, “I’ll be doing drumline this year, I’ll still hang ‘round the bandroom.”

Tony chuckled, watching you talk to the younger teenagers and hugging each of them. He was proud of you, no doubt about it.

[artificialqueens]

i’m putting out my hand, you don’t wanna hold it (gigi x nicky) - ella

a/n - The aftermath of an almost relationship between the Nicky and Gigi post-show. Kind of a ‘what if they also had a branjie moment in s12’. Anyway, first angst AND first fic that’s over 2k words, yay!! Thank u to my amazing perfect beautiful beta @pink-grapefruit-cafe for correcting my tenses (as always) :> this is also posted on ao3, and feel free to hit me up here @dawningofdrag. Hope this was a decent comeback 💗

-

‘it’s weird seeing us flirt on national television’

Gigi’s heart skipped a beat when she heard her phone ding from the coffee table in front of her, already knowing who sent her the sudden text.

It was cold. It was the middle of March and the nonexistent heating of her apartment caused her fingers to shiver as she reached for her phone. The blankets that wrapped around her shoulders fell off as she reached out, feet kicking out of the bundle of fabric and placing themselves on her carpeted floor.

The latest episode of drag race had just finished airing, the commercials that came after it playing on Gigi’s flatscreen and it’s overproduced audio filled the small confinement of her living room. Their blatant flirting in untucked had just played on-screen mere moments ago, and the 22-year-old could already hear the intense screaming of the fans in her head. She turned off her notifications for Twitter and Instagram before the episode even aired, aware that the second the moment Nicky grabbed Gigi’s hand was televised everyone would go batshit crazy.

She opened her phone, tapping away until she got to her most recent text, the blue, red, and white heart next to the sender’s name all too familiar. Probably a little too familiar for Gigi’s liking.

It was the first time Nicky texted her since they spent summer together in LA last year, and the text preceding Nicky’s most recent one stung in a way the younger queen didn’t necessarily find appealing. The romantic nicknames and pink heart emojis brought back memories the American would rather forget.

-

“You’re beautiful,” Gigi whispered into the French queen’s ear, arms tightly wrapped around Nicky’s neck. The feeling of her bare, sweaty skin on hers elicited a loud moan from her swollen lips. “Fuck- right there-”

The empty hotel room Gigi called home for the past two weeks was now dim, the lamp by her bedside table the only source of light they had bothered to keep on. The plain white sheets were barely hanging onto the corners of the thick mattress they laid on, tank tops, vintage tees, and colored pants discarded by the foot of the bed. Hungry grasps and a desperate need for touch caused Gigi’s hotel room to look like a tornado passed through, but she didn’t mind. She was willing to clean up the mess they had created if it meant feeling the way she currently did, pressed tight to Nicky’s chest.

Their non-stop flirting on set the past two weeks had finally turned into more than just dirty jokes and accidental hand touches. Gigi had teetered on the edge of the limit she had set for herself for a while now, Nicky standing on the imaginary line with her.

But the second Nicky locked lips with her after the first elimination, the self-control she prided herself in turned nonexistent. The older queen had cupped her cheeks and leaned in and before she could stop herself, Gigi kissed back. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around the french queen’s waist, holding tight and wishing the feeling she experienced once their lips met would last longer than the few seconds it lasted.

It all happened so suddenly. The hand holding, the kiss, the three hickeys on her collarbone Nicky created in the empty set bathroom before they rode the van back to the hotel. Gigi felt like she was dreaming with how quickly their relationship had escalated the past six hours. Before she knew it, their naked bodies had collided and fuck, it felt good.

Nicky moved quicker as she placed her hands on Gigi’s shoulders, her thrusts, powerful and quick. A loud whine escaped Gigi’s lips as she threw her head back into the pillow. The queen on top of her leaned down and claimed her with dark bruises on her prominent shoulder blades to accompany the ones left on her skin hours ago. Gigi writhed and moved underneath her, the collision of Nicky’s skin with her own enough to almost drive her over the edge. Her long nails dug into the older queen’s back as she savored in every movement Nicky’s hips made.

“So fucking good-” She heard Nicky exhale, her tan hands clutching her waist. Gigi looked up to meet her dark eyes, a shiver running down her spine. “So fucking beautiful.”

-

‘I know its kinda weird lmao’

Gigi set her phone down to take a deep breath, pulling back the fleece blanket around her, trying to find some sort of solace in the heat it provided. The thoughts of Nicky overwhelmed her like a tidal wave, crashing and breaking and ruining the sandcastle wall she’d built to protect herself. God, Nicky was going to be the death of her.

The thousands of memories she had shared with Nicky came in so quickly, and Gigi was pretty sure they didn’t plan on leaving anytime soon. Every waking moment she spent with the French queen replayed in her head, rolling like they were the videos in her camera roll she would find herself watching at three in the morning when she’s had too much to drink.

She heard her phone buzz, pulling her out of the trance she found herself in. She slowly moved to grab the phone that laid screen-side down, toying with its clear case before she found the courage to pick it up and read Nicky’s response. She took a deep breath and opened it.

‘do you miss it?’

“Fuck.” Gigi let the curse slip through her lips, mind going a million miles a minute.

-

“Why do you have to go back to New York?” Gigi whined, still not bothering to let go of her tight grasp on the older queen. Her words slurred a little, her droopy eyes meeting the French queen’s dark brown ones. “I wanna spend more time with you-”

It was chilly, the late-night breeze probably a bit too strong for Gigi who’d only worn a denim jacket and a vintage tee. The stars shone brightly above them, sky clear from the clouds that would soon arrive in the fall. She looked down at her hand that was wrapped firmly around Nicky’s, and just like that, she was warm. The interlocking of their fingers was enough for the low temperature of night to no longer bother her.

She looked at Nicky, and she thought about how she shone just as much as the clear, bright stars of the California summer.

The alcohol had hit her over an hour ago, the normal filter she’d put her words (and sometimes if needed, even her thoughts) was currently non-existent.

They had just spent a full night out in Los Angeles getting drunk at Showgirls and eating their body weight in greasy bar food. There was not a single regret in their minds. Well, none for the time being.  Those would probably come in the late morning.

All of a sudden, Nicky stopped in her tracks, turning to face the younger queen who stood next to her. She lifted her hands, trailing them up the pale queen’s body before cupping Gigi’s cheeks. She had drunk a little more than she planned on and it prohibited her ability to think before she did anything.

She pressed a kiss on the taller queen’s forehead, then her nose, and finally a longer, lasting one on her lover’s glossed lips. “You’re cute when you’re drunk. Do you know that?”

Gigi couldn’t hide the giggles that erupted from her mouth, looking away as her cheeks flushed. “You’re cute too.”

-

She stared at the blue cloud on her phone screen for longer than she’d be willing to admit, sitting back down as she thought of a way to reply without sounding… weird? bitter? desperate? The heavy feeling in her chest intensified the longer she thought of a reply.

Her emotions went haywire and she could already feel her fingers tremble. Her breath deepened with every inhale, bottom lip between her pearly white teeth. The loud commercials that played from her TV turned to background noise, the sentence displayed on her phone screen causing her focus to shift.

Maybe she was angry. Maybe she was furious.

But she missed Nicky. She missed Nicky more than she wanted to, and Gigi didn’t think she could deny that no matter how hard she tried.

They had ended whatever they had almost a year ago, but Gigi still found herself missing the way Nicky’s arms felt around her when they slept. Gigi missed the way her tan skin would shine under the bright California sun when they would sneak off to the beach after a long day of lounging around in the American’s shoebox of an apartment. She missed the way her dark hair would smell, the scent of her musky perfume that reminded her of the mornings where they held each other until the heat of the season pushed them away.

After what felt like hours of contemplation, Gigi finally responded to the text with simple words. She couldn’t bring herself to add more to it, afraid that saying too much could lead the conversation to places she didn’t want to go.

‘i do’

Gigi waited by her phone for a reply, her eyes constantly checking to see if her home screen had lit up to display her lock screen and the time. She got up to leave her finished glass of wine on the kitchen sink, attempting to distract herself from the reply she so anxiously waited for.

She jumped when she heard her phone go off, her hands reaching to grab the device like her life depended on the words written in Nicky’s response.

‘i miss it too, sometimes.’

-

Gigi thought of making Nicky lunch before she had to leave for New York.

She wasn’t a cook by any means, she never really enjoyed it simply because it was more work than purchasing food from the restaurants down the street from her apartment. But it was a special occasion, and the American thought there was no harm in a simple romantic gesture. She was head over heels anyway, and according to her judgement, there was no point in hiding it anymore.

She whipped up a pretty little sandwich for the older queen who was smoking a couple of cigarettes on the pathetic excuse of a balcony Gigi possessed in her apartment. Nicky sat on the one chair she could squeeze into the tight space, tan legs resting on the metal railing that was slowly getting colder the closer they got to fall. The younger queen took a couple of photos of the cross-cut she had carefully plated on one of the many three plates she possessed, posting the dish on her story before walking to her bedroom where the balcony jutted out across her unmade bed.

“- no it’s not! You know I’m not ready for that shit.” She heard Nicky exclaim from the balcony.

Gigi slowly walked up to her, watching her flick the ashes from her second cigarette into the vintage marble ashtray the younger queen had bought for Nicky when she heard she was coming. Gigi let a soft smile paint her glossed lips, more than excited for the reaction she could possibly acquire from the New York native.

“Of course we aren’t serious, Kandy.” Nicky scoffed, dragging a long inhale of the smoke as it filled her lungs and left it just as quick. “I don’t do the whole relationship thing, takes too much effort.”

“I just came here to have some fun! Let me hook up and have fun in peace, you bitch.” Nicky snickered, waving around her hands as she talked as if the person on the other side of the phone was right in front of her.

Gigi felt numb.

-

‘but i’m not ready for what you want and you know that.’

She had moved to her bedroom by the time the next message came to flash itself on Gigi’s phone screen. It was dark now, dim yellow fairy lights the only thing illuminating the cozy space in the dark winter night. She tried to distract herself even more from the blue cloud that littered her brain as she busied herself before bed. She didn’t bother replying the first time, fully aware where the conversation was leading to. She didn’t want to go there. Not yet. Gigi didn’t believe she was ready for it.

Her fingers still shook like they always did when she was too emotional, the quiver of her hands evident when she went to brush her teeth. She laughed it off the second she noticed, instead, focusing on the rest of her nightly routine that she deemed more important than the second text which was waiting on the bed she used to share. More important than the sinking feeling in her chest she tried to convince herself wasn’t there.

She had settled into bed before reading the latest text but her desperate attempts to keep her feelings at bay were failing her.

The grip on her black phone tightened, her manicured fingers hovering over her phone’s keyboard unable to conjure up a proper response. She felt a lump in her throat form as she held back the tears that sat by the edge of her light brown eyes, and she remembered the time she cried the same tears only months before. “Fuck you, Nicky.”

Gigi’s voice cracked as she whispered, gritting her teeth in order to suppress the great anger that was dying to leave her chest and into the phone in front of her. She couldn’t breathe, her vision blurred from the tears that were collecting in her eyes. She found herself choking on the sobs she held back, so she dropped the phone on her green comforter.

Fuck, she wanted to call her.

She wanted to call her and beg for another chance. Her fingers itched, wanting to pick up the phone once more and tap the call button. It was a risk that Gigi herself didn’t think she should take, but her brain lingered on the thought for a while. She knew she was getting desperate for the queen on the other side of the phone, and denying it didn’t help her at all. Fuck, maybe if they met again, if they spent another summer together in California, if her lips lingered a second longer on hers, it could change Nicky���s mind.

But instead of saying so, she replied.

‘i know.’

-

“What are we, Nicky?” The question left Gigi’s lips before she had realized it.

Nicky had ignored her since she heard the loud clatter of a plate dropping itself on the dresser by the balcony door.

The atmosphere inside the small apartment had changed drastically in the matter of milliseconds. Gigi scrubbed on the dishes harder than she usually did, closed the bathroom door much louder than normal, and you could hear her dismayed grunts when her hair didn’t sit on top of her head the way she wanted it to. Nicky had finished packing, rolling her large purple luggage by the front door when Gigi spat out the words she dreaded to hear.

“I have to go-” She avoided Gigi’s gaze like it would hurt her if they met eyes. The American walked closer to the smaller queen in front of her, picking at the skin around her thumbs to ease the myriad of thoughts that ran through her head a mile a minute.

“Nicky, please.” She spoke softly, but it was as if she was alone in the room. Nicky still refused to look at the younger queen and reply no matter how long she seemed to wait.

“Answer me,” Gigi spoke much louder now, her pain still somehow passing through the tough wall she tried to put up with her second request at a reply. She felt like screaming.

The room fell silent, Nicky not even daring to move. It was so quiet Gigi could hear the faint rumble of a motorcycle from the roads close by.

“Please.” Her voice cracked, eyes bloodshot from holding back in the tears that were itching to flow. She allowed only a single tear to stream down her face, fingers shaking as she subconsciously wrapped her hands around her lean frame. Gigi closed her eyes.

“You said you don’t want anything serious but you held me when I told you I was cold.” She called out, finally harboring the strength to keep talking.

“You held my hand when we walked around Sunset and you told me about your dreams when we ate breakfast.”  She continued, the tears from her light brown eyes now everflowing as she couldn’t find the willpower to hold them back any longer. Gigi wanted to stop talking in case it got her into waters so deep she wouldn’t be able to resurface, but she kept going.

“Gigi-“

“You wouldn’t come to California for me if you didn’t want me the way I want you.”

Gigi could start to feel the thick humid air that accompanied the coming autumn season, a heavy feeling on her shoulders starting to build up and cause her shoulders to slump.

She scoffed, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, already feeling the quiver of her hands as she brought them up. “For the past two weeks, we’ve spent every second together and only now do I realize-”  

Gigi took in a shaky breath. “- you’re fucking playing with me.”

“I am not-”

“But you are!” The brunette let out a laugh, bloodshot eyes meeting Nicky’s for the first time since the phone call. “I’m just some toy, huh? You think you can come and go whenever you please and you expect me to not get hurt?”

“I didn’t want you to get so attached-“

“Bullshit, Nicky.”

They stared at each other for what felt like hours, neither showing signs of backing down now that Nicky finally had the courage to face the younger queen. She grasped the handle of her luggage tightly, knuckles turning white at how hard she was holding onto it.

“I’m young, but I’m not fucking stupid,” Gigi whispered through her tears after an eternity of silence. She met the older queen’s eyes one last time before she watched her tan hands reach for the front door.

Nicky opened the front door and left.

-

‘you’ll find someone out there who will want the same thing you want, i promise.’

Gigi hated Nicky.

She hated Nicky with every fibre of her being, the pain and anger consuming her every thought when her brain would bring back their warm summer memories. She wanted nothing but for the pain to leave her exhausted soul and transfer itself to Nicky, make her experience the heavy emotions she’d carried on her back ever since Nicky had left to go back to New York. She felt her blood boiling at the thought of the way Nicky knew where to hold her when she needed to be held-

The way Nicky knew exactly what to say at any given moment, no matter the circumstance.

The way Nicky would press a kiss on her forehead and suddenly everything she worried about disappeared.

She hated Nicky, but fuck, she loved her too.

Gigi loved Nicky. She missed her, wanted her, loved her. And that was all she needed to stop hating her.

It was four in the morning when Gigi finally replied.

‘what if i want that someone to be you.’

[hadestownmodern]

dont have sex u will get pregnant and get made fun of by persephone

Hi guys! @dilforpheus here! I want to preface that the first segment of this was written before the banter on Instagram, but once I saw it I had to incorporate it. There is one final segment with WAY too many spoilers to share yet! 

This friendship/semi maternal relationship between Eurydice and Persephone is arguably my favorite in the ENTIRE modern au. 

The exams were passed back with no particular ceremony. Just Persephone turning them over on Student’s desks, curling writing on the front projecting a number as to how well a student did. Eurydice wasn’t particularly paying attention. She didn’t sleep much the night before and her back was absolutely killing her. She wasn’t even sure how she was going to make it through the next fifty-seven minutes of Persephone lecturing her on social structure in some specific midwestern town and the obscure sociological study that was performed on middle schoolers in the region. 

Eurydice barely notices when Persephone puts her returned exam in front of her, and most certainly misses the smirk on her features as she hands back the papers. Eurydice flips it over to see her grade- 87, adequate- before flipping through the exam to see what she missed. She notices that one corner is bumpier than the other, and flips to see what is interrupting the pages. 

There, staples to the corner of her exam, is a single condom. Not much use now that there is a staple through the middle. In persephone’s swirling cursive is written  

“You, like the girls in this study, could benefit from these -Seph”

Dumbfounded, Eurydice looked up to see Persephone smirking at her as she returned to her laptop in the front of the room .

“Are you fucking with me, Stephanie?” Eurydice mumbled, turning the paper to look at Persephone. “Jokes on you, i’m allergic to latex.” She quips, disregarding the fact she was fully in class in front of people she didn’t know. Fuck ‘em, she’d never see them again after this semester anyway. Persephone was going to be in her life forever. 

“Excellent point. I’ll remember that for next time.”

They ignore the gaping looks of her classmates, and the murmured whispers as Persephone goes back to teaching and beginning the new unit. 

“What did she just call her?” “Did she lowkey call Eurydice a whore?”  

It’s halfway through class, not even a full 30 minutes into the lecture when Eurydice is grasping the edge of the desk so tightly her knuckles were white. Her breathing is labored, but only enough that a trained eye would see. She isn’t even taking notes as Persephone tosses a keyring at her. “Get out of here, you look like shit.”

Persephone is erasing the board before Eurydice can process it, grasping the key ring in her fingers. 

“No, i’m staying. I have to learn this eventually before you give me an 87 again”  

Persephone rolls her eyes before shutting her laptop. “Fine. Class is over.” 

Noone else in the class argues as they quickly pack up their things and scramble out of the classroom, short “bye” and “have a good weekends” pour out of their mouths as Persephone watches them go. She sits at the now empty desk beside Eurydice and runs a hand over her hair. “Is it your back again… Orpheus told me it’s been bothering you recently.”

Eurydice only nods, letting out a shaky breath. ‘You didn’t need to end class-”

“Well you weren’t leaving, and you were distracting me. I was afraid you were gonna pass out right here.”

Eurydice laughs half heartedly, and starts to put her stuff in her bag. “Thank you, Perstephanie.”

Persephone put an arm around her shoulder and rubbed her shoulder. “You know, if you used a condom, you wouldn’t be having this problem.”

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

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Eurydice pulled out the tissue paper, pulling a single box of condoms out. Attached was a note, in Persephone’s flourished cursive.

“So next birthday you don’t have to be pregnant -Seph. P.s. the real present is a vacation where you can put these into use. “

“I’m just saying, twenty two is way more fun when you don’t have feet you can’t see.” Persephone is on the other side of the bar, pouring herself an extra drink to toast to Eurydice, where she herself could not. “We could be drinking on the beach, but no, you drank two glasses of wine at my house and ended up in bed with my nephew.”

“Oh fuck off, You set me up for that-”

“EuRyDiCe! PeRsEpHonE!” Orpheus’ voice cracks from the other end of the bar at the same time a shot glass slips from his fingers and shatters on the ground. “What...whats going on? Why are you fighting?” 

His hazel eyes are wide as they flick between the two most important women in his life who are seemingly arguing over..a gift? Their impending child? “I thought you liked each other!”

Eurydice reached out and grabbed his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We do, Orpheus. We’re just messing around.”

“We do this in class all the time!” Persephone promised, squeezing his shoulder. “And you clearly didn’t listen when I taught you what safe sex was all those years ago. Maybe it’ll get through to her.”

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

There’s a gentle knock on the door that startles Eurydice, who pulls her eyes away from her daughter. A couple of hours old and she already seemed to shift the tilt of her world’s axis. She’s finally showered and in something comfortable when Orpheus stepped out to grab something to eat- namely, bring her fries from that diner down the street. She deserved it, dammit.  Eurydice looks up to see Persephone in the doorway, waving and smiling brightly.

“Hey sunshine, can I come in?” Persephone peaks in, genuine joy on her face as she watched Eurydice. So young, but in the short time she’s known her, she’s seen her grow into a completely different woman. “Everyone else will be here soon..Junie’s with my mom..but I wanted to see you.” Yes, she was overjoyed to see this baby that belonged to the boy she raised, but her priority was currently on the woman holding her. She wasn’t about to let her get overlooked in all the excitement of the baby. 

“Yeah, Yeah of course… I’m trying to get the hang of feeding her, but then she fell asleep. And they keep telling me to sleep when she does. But I can’t seem to stop looking at her…”

Persephone sat on the end of the bed, near Eurydice but not daring to crowd her personal space. “No, no I understand completely. I didn’t even put Junie down for about two weeks. Wouldn’t even let my mama hold her..” She rests her hand on Eurydice’s knee with a smile. “So a girl, huh? Does she have a name yet?

“Don’t act like you didn’t know.” Eurydice teased, running her finger over the baby’s nose with a lazy smile. “Your mother knows everything. But yes. I can’t believe it. I love her so much already, and I’ve barely known her three hours...we can’t name her. Nothing seems good enough..I’ve called her french fry for months now.”

“Even you’re starting to believe in her magic. That’s impressive. And a name will come to you. Well, My mother named Junie. No way in hell did my husband pick the name Juniper.”  Persephone watched the way Eurydice didn’t even look at her, unable to drag her eyes away from the tiny person she held in the crook of her arm. “How are you, honey. And don’t give me that fine, bullshit.”

“i...I’m so happy. I love her so much and I love Orpheus so much and- i’m so tired.” Eurydice admits, letting out a sigh. “I love her so much, and I can’t even describe how happy I am. But i’m tired and I didn’t realize how much pain i’d still be in.. and it’s like her gums are razor blades and I don’t think i’m every going to physically be capable of having sex again, not to mention why would Orpheus even want to and- I’m so tired but I can’t look away from her! I can’t put her down. She’s been apart of me for so long.”  She’s crying before she realizes it, warm tears running down her face. She hiccups as she feels the baby starting to move in her arms and almost cries harder. How was she supposed to do this if she was already exhausted?

Persephone is closer to her, tucking black curls behind her ear before wiping at her cheeks. “It’s okay, Eurydice, it’s okay. I understand. I really do. I felt guilty for being tired, for not being on top of the game all the time. I worked so hard to have her, how dare I be anything less than 100%.” She pulled her head to her chest, stroking Eurydice’s soft curls as she held her. Eurydice needed a mother, she needed a mother to care about her, and Persephone was more than glad to fill her part. “”I would take showers that were exactly three minutes long. And for 180 seconds I would sob. Because how dare I be anything less that grateful. But fuck, I just wanted a nap for more than two hours at a time. And to not feel like a cow. So I get it.” 

Persephone kisses the top of Eurydice’s head, feeling the girl’s body just shake as she cried into her. Of course she kept it in. Women were trained to think they could show nothing but joy that day, when in reality the emotional highs and lows came like the changing tide. “It’s okay. You’re going to be the best mom. You are allowed to feel things, Eurydice” She promises, allowing herself a glance down at the incredibly small little girl Eurydice was clutching as if her life depended on it. “She’s so beautiful already. Looks just like you…”

“She looks like a potato alien, you can say it!” Eurydice whined, hiding her face in Persephone’s shoulder. 

“Well..all babies do. But you ate so many fries what do you expect other than a potato?” It’s teasing, and light, and the way Perspehone lightens the mood. She won’t dare ask to hold the baby, not with the way Eurydice anchors herself by holding her. 

“I feel like I got punched in the stomach with at least six knives and then someone ripped out whatever balances my emotions. All that while feeling like a dairy cow mixed with the happiest person in the world.” Eurydice tries to describe, laughing just a little as she wiped her tears away. “I’m a mess.”

“Well, you know, all of that could have been prevented with a condom. Which, by the way-” She pulled out a card and handed it to her. “Heres one for safekeeping, remember it in six weeks.”

“You’re such an asshole sometimes.”

“I know.”

[xxx-cat-xxx]

Spectacular

Since my last story reportedly made people cry, I tried hard to write something happy this time, namely domestic Tony/Pepper & Peter. It´s horribly fluffy, don't get used to it.

Thank you to @awesomesockes for all the ideas and to @whumphoarder​ for beta-reading.

“Tony, I need you to read this.” Pepper steps into the room, the tell-tale clicking of her heels accompanying her. She holds a manila folder out to Tony.

“Yeah, put it down over there, I'll look at it later,” the engineer replies, barely glancing up from the wires he's fiddling with under a magnifying glass. “And toss me the Advil bottle from the cupboard, will ya?”

“You´re burning through these way too fast,” Pepper observes while setting the nearly empty bottle on the table in front of him. “Exactly how light are these ‘light headaches’ you've been getting?”

Tony ignores her in favour of throwing down two painkillers in a fluid motion. He massages his closed eyes with his thumb and index finger, a scrunched look on his face, before blinking hard a few times and focusing back on the magnifying glass. None of this escapes Pepper's notice.

“I want you to look at that document for me,” she orders. “Now.”

“Can't I have one hour to work in peace? Put it on the table over there…”

“Don't have FRIDAY scan it and read it out loud. You pulled that trick on Peter yesterday, it won’t work with me.”

“He told you that?” Tony huffs. “Think I'm gonna have to fire him.”

“Technically, he's an intern of Stark Industries, which happens to be a company controlled by me, so decisions about his contract are under my jurisdiction. Now read that out to me.”

“Sometimes I feel like it was a mistake to promote you,” Tony grumbles. “You’re getting too used to being in power.”

He takes the sheet of paper from the folder and squints at it. Then he pushes it away at arm's length and squints even harder. “You know that I can’t read French, right?”

“It's English, Tony.” Pepper snatches the document out of his hand. “And you just proved my point. You have an appointment with the optician this afternoon.”

“That's ridiculous. I don't need reading glasses. I've got Friday, I've got you and the kid. I'm totally fine to work without prosthesis,” he argues. “Oh, fuck.”

One of the wires under his fingers has started to spark. He uses the sleeve of his already grease-stained sweatshirt to extinguish it.

“3:00 pm, Friday knows the address,” Pepper continues. “You should take a shower before you show yourself in public. Oh, and Peter will be accompanying you.”

“I- what? Pep, that's not fair!”

“I've got a meeting. And the boy has certain skills that he promised to use in order to ensure you won't sneak out of the shop. Thank me later.” Pepper gives him a sweet, deceptively innocent smile. She presses a kiss onto the clean side of his cheeks before turning around and walking off.

“You're an evil, evil woman, Miss Potts,” Tony mutters as he watches her leave.

*

“I look old. I'm not old, Pete.”

Peter only offers an exasperated sigh, biting back the very tempting ‘Yes, you are’  that's sitting on the tip of his tongue.

It's early evening. There's a heap of discarded frames the size of a small iceberg next to Tony. The third shop assistant attending to them this day is trying to mask her growing desperation while two others are snoring behind the counter.

“They look just like your sunglasses, Mr. Stark, and you never have a problem wearing them.”

Peter had been delighted when Pepper had called him for a “special mission” the other day, looking forward to spending time with Tony outside the workshop. But he probably should have guessed from the hint of guilt in Pepper's eyes that this was not going to be an easy mission.

“It's not the same. These aren’t sunglasses, and I know it. I can feel the difference.”

“That's sort of the point, isn't it?”

“Don't be a smartass, kid.” Tony's tired eyes narrow at Peter, which would be sort of threatening if it weren't for the bright purple spectacles currently balanced on his nose.

“I told you, I liked those simple black frames, but you said they were too ooooordinary,” Peter pronounces, stretching out the vowel as he breaks into a yawn.

“Hmm. Maybe I'll try those again,” Tony deliberates, then looks a little helplessly at the startling number of discarded models surrounding him. “Uhm, where did I put them?”

While the shop assistant jumps in to prevent Tony from further increasing the chaos, Peter gets up from the chair to stretch his legs. He tries on a pair of half-moon glasses and stands in front of the mirror.

“Those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it,“ he imitates in a deep voice, then pauses when something catches his eye.

“Oh wow, they still make these!” he blurts out, dropping the Dumbledore frames and striding over to the kids' section.

On a small, colourfully-painted rack, a number of superhero-themed glasses are displayed. There's a pair with small wings on each side that look like miniature versions of those mounted on Thor's helmet, one with stars all over the frame in Captain-America themed colours, and a red one with golden screws that remotely resembles the Iron Man armour. Below all of them, there's a pair of specs with the unmistakable pattern of a spider web crisscrossing the red and blue frame.

“They made Spider-Man glasses,” Peter whispers, completely awe-struck.

“I know I said I'm not old, but I'm definitely too old for those,” Tony remarks from behind his shoulder. Peter turns around. There's a sober-looking black framed pair sitting on his mentor's nose and a nearly identical one shoved up to his forehead. A third pair of glasses is dangling from his fingers.

“No, it's just-” Peter steps away from the shelf, suddenly a little embarrassed.

“It's just what? The stunning ability of capitalism to churn out endless variations of the very same product in order to convince customers they’re buying something different? The marketisation of people with special powers?”

“Not - not exactly.” Peter blinks, slightly confused.

“So?”

“I used to wear these when I was little,” Peter admits, pointing at the Iron Man frame. “Before the bite, my eyesight was so bad that I couldn't even make out my own toes when I was standing. I got my first glasses when I was three, and I guess it's easier to convince a kid to wear them when you can claim that they give him superpowers. At least that's what my aunt used to tell me.”

“Superpowered glasses? Well, that's....spectacular.” Tony raises his eyebrows in a mocking gesture, but his expression goes a little soft. “I guess my father could have learned something from your aunt's parenting skills.”

He turns away before Peter can think of something to say.

“Come here, kid,” Tony calls over his shoulder. “I’ve compiled a top ten, if you wanna give me a hand…”

*

A few days later, Dum-E and U get into an argument that ends with U setting a bunch of papers on fire in an attempt to offer an apology to Dum-E, who extinguishes the flames with loud chirps of joy. When Tony skims through the smoldering remains of the documents, the one Pepper gave him to read falls into his hands.

With a grimace, he pulls the newly-acquired reading glasses from the explosion-proof safe in which Peter has deposited them with admirable foresight.

In the middle of the paper, one sentence is written in tiny letters: “Proof that Pepper Potts always knows best.”

[iyata-zarette]

Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman Pt 3

Word Count:

Peter Parker/ Spiderman x Reader

A/N: if your marvel fan fic doesn’t have a stan lee ‘cameo’ (kinda), how is it marvel?

The next morning I woke up on time for school, but I didn’t feel like going to my first three classes. I was guaranteed an A in French and in chemistry so I asked my mom to call the school for me. She agreed, only if I could stay at the house this weekend while her and my dad were visiting my aunt out in Buffalo.

I agreed and thought about texting Peter to let him know we could meet at my house this weekend but I wanted to play it cool, so I decided I’d tell him when I got to school and I rolled over to try to fall asleep for another hour or so.

However, I couldn’t fall back asleep. I rolled back onto my back and sat up looking around my room. I decided even if my room wasn’t exactly messy, I was going to get something done if I couldn’t sleep. Moving around the room, I roamed around like a reverse tornado. As I moved around I could see my phone buzzing on my desk but I figured Michelle was texting me and she could wait.

I packed up my backpack and made myself a late breakfast and headed back to my bedroom to check my texts.

7 texts from MJ. 1 text from Peter. I smiled, feeling butterflies in my stomach.

Saving Peter’s text for last, I opened MJ’s messages.

MJ: hey where tf are u?

      r u rlly gonna make me sit alone in homeroom?

      rlly? I thought I meant more to u than that.

      read this article btw: link

      r u coming to school at all today?

      if ur coming late, buy me a coffee

      peter asked about u.

I smiled at her last text and opened Peter’s text.

Peter: didn’t see you w/ MJ in homeroom. are you doing okay?

I quickly responded.

(Y/N): why? worried about me?

Peter: no, just don’t want to get a bad grade on our project. :)

I giggled.

(Y/N): i’ll be at school before lunch.

Peter: can’t wait.

I read the text over and over again. Peter couldn’t wait… to see me? I smiled the entire time I got dressed and the entire walk down to my coffee shop.

After 20 minutes, I was headed to school. I decided to treat myself and take a cab to school and snap-chatted a picture of my two coffees to MJ before putting my phone away to look out the window. We pulled up the the light right before Midtown and I noticed a white car with tinted windows parked near the stairs up to the subway.

I held my breath as I watched a man walk up to the car from the stairs. He looked around and I finally saw his face: it was the man who I’d bit. I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up as he got into the car and my cab turned to drop me off. I kept my eyes glued on the white car until it turned down the street and disappeared from sight.

“Hey, lady!” the cabbie was looking at me in the mirror. “The meter’s still goin.’”

I got out of the car in a daze and I walked towards school like a paranoid schizophrenic. I didn’t stop checking behind my back until I was in the office.

“Are you okay, dear?” the lady at the front desk asked. “You look a little pale and your mother didn’t mention you being sick…”

“I’m fine,” I said rubbing my clammy palms on my pants before picking up the two coffees again.

I got to my locker and then made my way to English. MJ was sitting in the back of the classroom and I quietly made my way to her. I sat down and slid her coffee across the table to her.

“Seemed like studying went well last night,” she said, not looking up from her phone. I turned and opened my mouth but she interrupted me. “I heard Peter talking to Ned.”

I nodded and took my things out and class started before MJ was able to interrogate me further.

——————

School was over and I paced at the front of the school. They had to be waiting for me this time too. I couldn’t understand how they’d found me and I certainly couldn’t understand why they were so interested in me.  

I was waiting for Peter inside the school this time as I peered from the windows, scanning the crowd for the men that attacked me. I realized I was at a disadvantage because I hadn’t seen the driver and he could easily be the one who was outside waiting.

“Hey, whats-oh,” Peter looked startled as I spun around like a deer caught in headlights. I glanced back out the window. “Are you okay?”

“No,” I sighed. He glanced around and leaned down to me. “You have to promise not to tell anyone.”

He nodded and I took a deep breath.

“Okay, I didn’t tell you everything that happened when I got lost the other day,” I began as I launched into the story. Peter listened to me without interruption and didn’t look particularly surprised when I mentioned Spiderman. He nodded and looked outside.

“You didn’t go to the police?” he asked.

“No, I thought it was just a fluke and I assumed after they’d been glued to their car, they’d have been picked up by the cops.”

Peter frowned and muttered something under his breath.

“Okay, well you’ve only seen them at school right?”

“So far,” I said, glancing out at the thinning crowd.

“Well, then as long as they don’t follow us onto the subway-”

“They know we’ll be headed that way,” I said interrupting him. He grabbed my arm and he towed me out the front door behind a group of band students carrying their instruments.

“We need to move now,” he said peeking above a trombone. “The longer we wait, the more students go home and the more vulnerable we become.”

I followed him, crouching a little. I kept scanning but Peter shook my arm.

“Keep your head down,” he said, turning away from me. “We’re almost there.”

I could see the stairs and my heart skipped a beat as I felt Peter’s hand around mine. He pulled me hard and we ran from behind the band kids to and up the stairs. Peter pulled me to the far end of the platform and after we stopped I began to turn my head to check my surroundings but Peter grabbed my face to stop me.

Our faces were inches apart and my breath hitched as he stared into my eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but continued to stare at me like a fish as the train pulled up to the stop.

“Peter?” I asked, glancing at the train. He shook his head and looked above me before pulling me onto the subway car.

Again there was no standing room, so we stood face to face; this time my hand entwined in his. I glanced out the window as the doors slid close to see one of my attackers standing on the platform scanning the crowd. I gasped and turned back around to face Peter, he looked down at me and squeezed my hand. My hand hurt from how hard I was holding on to him, but he was gripping my hand just as hard.

For a moment, it was just the two of us; nothing else around us mattered. I was getting lost in his eyes and he broke a smile. I felt my worry melt away as I smiled back up at him.

We jumped as an older man stumbled into us as he tried to get to an open seat. He gave Peter a dirty look and his mustache twitched. I watched in silence as the man got seated behind Peter and smiled when the old man smiled back at me. My hand began to tingle and I shook Peter’s hand off to crack my knuckles.

I took a big shaky breath.

“It’s nice to see you breathing again,” he said. I could hear the smile in his voice but couldn’t bring myself to look at him yet.

I felt tears building up in the corners of my eyes now that I thought about the implications of what had happened the last few days. I looked back up at Peter and his smile vanished. Still holding on to the rail above us with one hand, he pulled me into a hug with his other hand. I pressed my face into his chest and wrapped my arms around his waist as I tried to stifle my tears. Peter pressed his cheek against the top of my hair.

I felt safe in Peter’s arms and I took another big breath through my nose. Something stirred in the back of my head and I pulled away to wipe my eyes. Peter was looking down at me with concern etched all over his face.

“You smell safe,” I said, making him chuckle. I looked back down at his chest at the black mascara stains on his tee shirt. “Fuck, I’ll spot clean that for you.”

“It’s not a problem, May can probably…” he trailed off as I looked up at the map and moved towards the doors as we began to slow. “You know we have a couple stops left, right?”

“We’re getting coffee,” I said as the doors opened.

Peter followed me out of the subway and we didn’t speak the rest of the way to his apartment.

——————

“I think you’re ready,” Peter said as I circled the final answer on the study guide. “Just review questions like 35 and 47 and you should get an A.”

I sighed and laid my face on my study guide.

“Is that a guarantee?” I mumbled through smushed cheeks.

Peter laughed and I picked my head up to turn around to face him. In the time I’d spent with my back to him, he’d somehow managed to mess up his hair so it was sticking up in all different directions.

“We still have some time before you have to leave,” he said as he rotated his laptop towards me. The intro to the crime documentary was paused on his laptop and he stuck out his bottom lip at me. I glanced at my phone.

“Actually, my parents are leaving tomorrow for the weekend and I should probably go spend some time with them,” I said, immediately feeling guilty as he frowned down at his computer. “We can watch it after we work on our project at my house on Saturday?”

Peter nervously scratched the back of his neck.

“So, what are you do- what are you up to tomorrow?” he asked, nervously. My eyes widened and my cheeks felt warm. “I-I mean if you don’t, um, already have plans…”

“I, uh, I kinda already do…” I said feeling my cheeks burning. “MJ and I got invited to a party out in Brooklyn.”

Peter’s face fell and he looked away from me.

“But, you should totally come,” I said, quickly. “Bring Ned, I’m sure you guys would have fun.”

Peter turned back to look at me, almost smiling.

“Do you know how to get to Brooklyn?” he asked. I furrowed my eyebrows at him.

“I mean, even if I didn’t there’s always cabs-“

“Because I’m worried,” he continued, cutting me off. “That you’ll get lost.”

I pressed my lips together and held back a laugh as I tried to look as angry as possible. I looked around and grabbed a chess piece off his desk and chucked it at him. He caught it with one hand while he continued to laugh at me.

“Jackass,” I mumbled, standing up and looking around for my shoes.

“You’ll get over it,” he said, standing up. “You’re not gonna let me walk you home again are you?”

“Nope,” I said popping the ‘p’ with my tongue. “Just the sidewalk.”

Peter rolled his eyes but didn’t say another word as we left his apartment. As we walked down the stairs I tried to decide how I was going to get to school tomorrow. I could take a cab again, but I could only afford to take a cab so many times.

We got to the front door and Peter held it open for me to follow him out onto the sidewalk.

“Hey, do you take the same route to school?” I asked turning around abruptly. He looked a little confused but he nodded. “I was wondering if-uh-maybe, you’d wanna take the train-uh- with me?”

Peter’s face lit up immediately but quickly changed to a smug grin.

“You’re worried you’re gonna get lost, aren’t you?” he asked. I pouted up at him while I tried not to laugh. “Yes, of course I will. Do you know what stop to meet me at?”

I nodded and threw my arms around his neck, and thrust myself at him in a very aggressive hug that forced me to the tips of my toes. He barely budged when I slammed into him and I heard him laugh into my hair. His arms wrapped around my waist under my backpack.

I sighed as his arms tightened around me. We stood in each other’s arms a little longer than friends probably should, but I didn’t care.

“Thank you,” I murmured into his shoulder. “For earlier.”

He murmured something into my hair and we shifted so my feet were flat on the ground. Just like on the subway, it felt like nothing else mattered; it was just me and Peter. I wanted more than anything to stay in his arms but my phone began to ring in my back pocket.

I sighed irritably and pulled away from him to see that my mom was calling me.

“I should probably go,” I said as I shoved my phone back into my pocket. “But I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Alright, get home safe. Uh, text me when you get there,” he said as I turned down the street. I gave him a thumbs up. “Unless you get lost.”

Without turning around I shot him a middle finger over my shoulder, earning a laugh from behind me. I heard his front door shut before I rounded the corner.

—————

I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face the whole way home. I walked straight into my room and opened my window to let some fresh air in. Taking out my phone, I sent Peter a quick text.

(Y/N): made it

There was a chime from my fire escape. I curiously peaked out my window but the only thing on the fire escape was an abandoned bird’s nest.

Before I could investigate further I got a text from Peter.

Peter: kaow

I squinted down at my phone.

(Y/N): are you having a stroke?

Peter: No. lol

          I meant to say good.

          I’m glad you made it home safe.

I smiled down at my phone.

(Y/N): ok. c u tomorrow :)

Peter: can’t wait. :)

I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face as I walked into the living room.

Peter Parker couldn’t wait to see me.

[lavenderprose]

Hello! I was wondering if you have anymore cisflip ficlets/headcanons in mind? Your writing is amazing and I still go back to read Firebird all the time!

AHH! I’m glad you like it so much!

Here’s part of something that might become bigger or might stand alone, the working title of which is “U-Haul: Moving Made Gayer”

-

In another world, in another time, Yuri Katsukiperhaps would have had a very different reaction to Viktoria Nikiforovastanding in front of her bedroom door, asking to have a sleepover. Viktoria isthe twenty-seven-year-old reigning figure skating champion for half a decade andshe’s wearing a designer camisole over a pair of silk sleeping shorts, but she’salso wearing poodle slippers that Yuuri is pretty sure you can buy online fortwelve dollars. Her make-up is gone and her face has lost some of its angles,some of its allure, but she smells like vanilla and there is a faint sheen ofwhat must be lipbalm on her mouth. She is a grown woman, graceful and refined,but there is something childlike about her standing there, clutching her pillowwith Makkachin at her feet.

Yuri Katsuki might have turned her down,because she’s intimidating. She represents everything Yuri wants to be andmight not ever achieve.

But Yuri is also a woman who loves woman, andshe loves Viktoria—she has for halfher life—and something about Viktoria, underneath that charm and lipstick andheight, feels a little broken. Feels a little bit like it needs the kind of careand reassurance that can only come from another woman, even just a friend.Perhaps especially a friend.

So she looks Viktoria up and down for amoment, from hair in a French plait against the side of her head to the eyes ofthe poodle slippers, then opens the door to her room.

“Alright,” she whispers then, standing back tolet Viktoria come in. She’s still a little nervous about this whole thing, andmaybe a little afraid of Viktoria in a way. But there is a fullness in herheart that can only be happiness, andshe knows herself well enough to understand that she wants Viktoria close to her.“It’s not very big, but—”

“That’s alright!” Viktoria, almostpathologically cheerful, slips past Yuri in a furtive movement like she’safraid Yuri will change her mind and slam the door in her face instead. Once inside,she drops her pillow onto the floor and sits down, folding her legs underherself and plopping onto the floor in one seamless movement. She glances aroundat the freshly-bare walls. The room feels at once bigger and smaller with theabsence of the posters now living underneath Yuri’s bed.

“You’re not going to sleep on the floor,”says Yuri, whose mother would personally set her adrift in the Sea of Japan ifshe thought Yuri was letting guests sleep on the floor. “I’ll get you a futon.Or you can sleep on my bed—”

“Alright,” Viktoria agrees, slightly tooeasily, and hurls her pillow atop the mattress.

“Okay,” Yuri says, nodding to herself. “Alright,good, I’m gonna—” she makes to open the door, but she grabs for the handleblind because Viktoria is rising now, more or less the same way she sat down,all of her limbs unfolding at once. Yuri’s fingers brush the doorjamb and notmuch else.

“Where are you going?” Viktoria asks,settling herself on the edge of Yuuri’s bed. Her legs are so long. She crossesthem and the toes of her upper leg almost brush the hardwood. It’s an elegantmovement that makes Yuri want to physically erupt.

“To get a futon,” says Yuri, gesturing ineffectuallyat the floor.

“For me?”

“For me,”says Yuri, still pawing around for the door handle. It has, apparently,migrated from the spot it has been occupying for twenty-three years, and Yurican no longer find it. “So that I can sleep—on the—” Her tongue twists in onitself as she watches Viktoria lay down lengthwise on her bed, feet curled up behindher thighs. She’s settled her pillow and head at the opposite end of the bed fromwhere Yuri typically does. “Fluh. Flurr. Floor.”

“Why?” Viktoria asks. “We can share your bed,right? I don’t want to kick you out.” She reaches out and Yuri, for some reasonunknown even to herself, steps away from the door and gives Viktoria her hand. Herfingers are long and slim, strong, and they tighten around Yuuri’s palm andpull her down until she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, settled in the regionof Viktoria’s hips. Viktoria Nikiforova is in her bed smelling like vanilla anddesigner fragrance, and Yuuri is wearing a T-shirt she stole from Phichit and apair of Pikachu pajama pants someone gave her in middle school, and a very oldpair of black cotton panties. She hasn’t washed her hair in three days.

This is not how she thought this would go inthose fantasies.

There’s also a dog here. Yuri isn’t surewhere dogs figured in. She always figured there would be one, but probably not watching.

“Are you sure?” Yuri asks, feeling condescendingand needy all at once. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable—”

“Why would I be uncomfortable?” Viktoriaseems to genuinely not understand Yuri’s concern, and Yuri thinks it must be a languagebarrier thing, or perhaps a culture clash thing, but even with being aware of itshe isn’t sure how to explain that, usually, two people who have just met don’tshare a tiny single bed unless under the most dire of circumstances.

Not that Yuri hasn’t had fantasies that involvethose circumstances, of course.

There’sa scheduling mistake at the Olympics and Viktoria Nikiforova and I have toshare a single bed in the Olympic village. Oops! Viktoria Nikiforova has broughtonly lingerie to wear. Viktoria Nikiforova braids my hair and I eat her out.

ViktoriaNikiforova and I somehow-it’s-not-important are trapped in a mountain cabinwhere there is only one bed and we must cuddle to conserve warmth! ViktoriaNikiforova braids my hair and I eat her out.

ViktoriaNikiforova and I are passengers on one of those old-timey sleeper cars going fromone side of Russia to the other SHUT UP PHICHIT IT’S A FANTASY and we have toshare one of those combination seat-and-bed things and by the time we get offthe train in Vladivostok, Viktoria Nikiforova has asked me to run away withher. Also, Viktoria Nikiforova braids my hair and I eat her out.

“Because you’re used to sleeping alone?” Yuriventures, and knows even as it’s exiting her mouth that she is fucking up. Assumingthat Viktoria usually sleeps alone, not to mention that even if she does it’s probably not something shewants to be reminded of, is so deeplyfucking tone-deaf that Yuuri briefly thinks she’s going to die right then andthere and some coroner is going to have to put foot obstructed airway leading to suffocation on her death certificate.

Viktoria, though, snorts delicately out ofher nose, leans her chin on hear hand and through a pout says, “That’s nottrue. Makkachin sleeps with me every night.”

Summoned by his name, Makkachin hops onto thebed and curls up behind Viktoria’s knees, where he is much too large to fit.His entire tail and one of his legs is draped across Viktoria’s belly. The bedcreaks alarmingly. It’s as old as Yuri and has never been expected to bear thiskind of weight.

“Oh, of course,” Yuri responds, and hearsherself saying it as though from a distance. Why can’t I be you, she’s busy asking Makkachin in her head, as shewatches him nose underneath Viktoria’s shirt and settle his head on her naval.

Then Viktoria reaches out to wrap a strand ofYuri’s hair around her finger, and Yuri can’t quite bring herself to think anything except some vague, amorphousscream in the back of her head.

“Can I braid your hair?”

Somehow, through sheer and unadulteratedpower of will, Yuri keeps herself from screeching. Instead, she stands up andbows deeply, mostly because she’s forsaken all motor control to the panicrising up within her but also because she feels like she should be thankingsomething, anything, for what is happening to her on this night.

“Yes, of course!” she says, too loudly. “I’llgo get my hairbrush!”

In the bathroom, she crouches down next tothe sink and shrieks into her own knees.

Viktoria does Yuri’s hair up into two tightplaits that each run down one side of her hair and onto her shoulders, thenfalls asleep clutching her pillow in one arm and Makkachin in the other. They don’ttalk very much, because braiding hair apparently takes a great deal of concentration,but Viktoria tells Yuri that she’s happy to be able to braid someone’s hairagain, because her only friend with long hair recently cut it, and her own hairis too short for it to be really satisfying to braid. She also, slow andcareful as she’s tying off the second of the two braids, admits that she doesn’thave a lot of female companionship.

“The other girls are all much younger,” Viktoriatells her, through the pink hairtie in her mouth. “Or have retired, and goneoff to get married and start families. It’s been a long time since I’ve had agirlfriend.”

Yuri doesn’t know what definition of the termgirlfriend Viktoria is using there.She isn’t sure it matters.

What does matter is that, as she’s fallingasleep, Viktoria stirs at the other side of the bed and touches Yuri’s leg.

“Yuri?” Viktoria murmurs.

“Huh?” Yuri asks, feigning drowsiness but infact startlingly, poignantly awake.

“Can we—do you—” Her hand tightens on Yuri’sankle. “Could we cuddle?”

Yuri sits up and looks at Viktoria, who lookschildlike again sitting amongst the flower-patterned sheets on Yuri’s childhoodbed, clutching her dog and a pillow, eyes huge as they try to suck up any lightin the dark room. For a moment, she isn’t five-time-champion ViktoriaNikiforova or even Yuri’s-longtime-crush Viktoria Nikiforova. She is a womanwho needs the love and reassurance that can only come from another woman.

“Yes,” Yuri says, patting the mattress besideherself. “We can cuddle.”

It’s a tight fit, with Yuri clinging to theedge of the mattress and Viktoria smooshed against the wall. The one who getsthe most area is probably Makkachin, sprawls out on his back and refuses to bemoved.

“He’s spoiled,” Viktoria chuckles, pattingthe curls on his belly. “We have such a big bed at home.”

Doyou want someone to share it with, Yuri doesn’tsay.

In the morning, Yuri tells Phichit that sheslept with Viktoria Nikiforova, and Phichit doesn’t even do her the decency of lookingsurprised.

“I mean, not slept with,” Yuri says quickly, overcorrecting because she thinksmaybe Phichit has gone catatonic with that announcement.

“Oh,” he says, now sounding disappointed of all the damned things. “Well,I guess I didn’t expect it to happen thatquickly.”

“Thatquickly?” Yuri demands. “What do you mean, thatquickly.”

“Yuri,” Phichit sighs, and Yuri sees him leanhis head on his hand. “I love you very much. But I know you as a person.”

“Are you saying I’m easy?”

“No, and I’m insulted that you would thinkthat’s what I was saying.” Phichit frowns at her, betrayed. “I’m just worriedabout you, is all, because I know how you feel about her and I’m worried about—aboutwhat that might make you do.”

Yuri thinks about denying it, but Phichit hasknown her for five very formative years of her life.

“I’m not saying it’s bad,” Phichit assuresher, waving a hand. “I’m not, I promise.I think it’s great. And Viktoria Nikiforova might be the kind of person whoneeds someone to love them like that. But I don’t know her, or what she mightdo to your heart.”

“I’ll be careful,” Yuri says, completelyunsure if it’s a promise she can keep—or, in fact, one that she hasn’t alreadybroken.

Phichit makes a face like there’s a lot he wantsto say to that, but in the end he just says, “Alright.”

[translightyagami]

Lawlight (duh) for the ship thing Also, if you're into any of these - Drarry, Malec, Ichiruki, Sakunaru

uhhhh i only know drarry tbh but not well enough for a ship meme dlfajsda sorry. anyway here’s lawlight. 

who is more likely to hurt the other?

they both hurt each other on some level just bc they hv v combative personalities and also they r WATER SIGNS which means they r constantly in a fight over who is more valid. jokes on them tho: they r both unvalid as hell. light will center an entire week around getting back at L for something he did bc he’s basically amy dunne playing the long con all the time. L will hurt light in ways that last. he’ll just come out of nowhere with something like, “maybe it would be better if we hadn’t met” and light will just go quiet. that’s like, a sore spot L will push on if they argue bc he knows light is incredibly insecure abt his standing in L’s life. idk man. they love each other but there’s a lot of stuff they’re working thru and they’re leaving some scars along the way.

who is emotionally stronger?

hm. i think L is. he’s toughened up from all his experiences as the world’s greatest detective and had to deal w a lot more emotional crises than light. when it comes to big setbacks, he’s more likely to take them in stride whereas light is like that post that’s like “i’ll deal with it but you gotta let me be dramatic first.” before anything, he’s gotta scream in his scream jar then he can put those anxieties into the fridge and go back to figuring out his life.

who is physically stronger?

they hv abt the same physical strength. that’s less of a contest between them, altho light does sort of like it when L can lift him up. he’s done the same for L a couple times but its more fun to b carried than to b the carrier. anyway. if ur asking who wins more fights? then i would say that light wins a lot of their brawls bc he’s not afraid to play dirty. he has a sibling, he’s fought these battles many times before. its no rules just right in this house.

who is more likely to break a bone?

light has a lot of sports related injuries but not a lot of broken bones. meanwhile, mr. stays inside all day on my laptop has had three broken bones all from falling down the stairs or slipping on shit. just, like, hold on bc i’m picturing light and L sitting in the urgent care waiting room, both with broken arms bc of a roller skating accident. i don’t know how ppl break bones.

who knows best what to say to upset the other?

see this question and the first question r so close and so the answer is like both of them know each other well enough to hv their fingers poised over a particular emotionally destructive button at all times. i only say L is better at upsetting light bc he’s more willing to go the extra inch of underhandedness. of course, light nvr shows that he’s upset on the outside. no, he remains cool and calm, laughs it off probably, and then goes into the bathroom to hv a full scale meltdown in the dry bathtub. to b fair, that doesn’t happen often. its only during big, BIG arguments.

who is most likely to apologize first after an argument?

oh i don’t think either of them hv apologized once in their whole lives so it was a big step for them to apologize to each other. light caves first, trudging into L’s office with the most pathetic look on his face and being like “i’m sorry i called you a trash bag with arms.” and then L sort of sits there and has an inner conflict for a second before saying, “i’m sorry i told you looked like a kohl’s mannequin but not hot.”

who treats who’s wounds more often?

if their fights ever get too intense and someone gets hurt, its usually L knocking his head against something sharp and light has to like sit him on the toliet so he can fix him up. when he’s administering first aid, light starts to fuss over L and makes a lot of concerned noises.

“that hurts.” L squirms as light gives him stitches. “don’t pull too hard.”

“relax.” light says. “i’m actually quite good at this.”

(will i ever stop quoting that one line? no, i won’t.)

who is in constant need of comfort?

i don’t know abt comfort but light needs a lot of reassurance, both verbal and physical, that L does care abt him. he needs to b assured of his place in the world and in their relationship which L isn’t super great abt doing. but light is usually vocal abt when he needs comfort around L, whomst he rarely hides much of himself from, so its nvr a problem of L just not knowing. he just has no clue how to react.

there’s been a scarce few times when L has needed comfort after a taxing case but light is right there to just sort of, uhhh, hold him. let him make some horrible noises and talk. they try to b there for each other. its something they’re working on.

who gets more jealous?

oh for sure light. he gets flushed w jealousy anytime L shows a little more attention to someone else who could possibly usurp light’s romantic position in L’s life. its not fair. those ppl nvr worked as hard as he did to get L’s attention, to get his love. L thinks its kind of funny and will do shit to make light go green eyed. but that shit stops after they work with a french officer who gets a little too flirty w light and L just like, shuts that down. not so fun to b on the receiving end of that kind of jealousy.

who’s most likely to walk out on the other?

light. he’ll fucking do it at the drop of a hat too, just fucking walk out and not come back for three days. of course, they both think they can handle being separated so neither of them calls the other. but on the third day light’s trying to eat mcdonalds in his car and put a sausage mcmuffin in the hole L’s absence made so he goes to call him but his phone rings and it’s L on the other line like “please come back i forgot how quiet things r when ur not around also if ur at mcdonalds can u get me an apple pie okay thanks i love you.”

who will propose?

dklfsadlsfkj neither of them. they don’t want to get married tbh. i just literally can’t see them ever wanting to get married. if ur gonna put a gun to my head abt it tho, i would probably say light does but its only bc his mom started a campaign to get him to make an honest man out of L.

who has the most difficult parents?

um. i mean i guess light’s parents r more difficult. its not that they’re difficult tbh its more like they’re still adjusting to the life their son decided to lead bc its waaayyy different than what they thought was gonna happen. like first he’s gay (which isn’t a huge surprise to them like they’ve seen queer eye for the straight guy. they know things.) and then he’s dating some 24 yr old reclusive detective that happens to hv been soichiro’s boss for like a couple months and now light just sort of solves crimes w his boyfriend. so they’re being supportive but they’re also a little bit confused so sometimes it ends up in awkward situations where everyone’s at the dinner table and sachiko is like “so. what do your parents do, L?” and L is like “i don’t know who my parents were. i think they’re dead.” and she’s like, “oh. hm. well. that must b rlly rough for you.” meanwhile light is p much eating his napkin so he doesn’t start screaming at how little control he has over this shitty conversation.

who initiates hand-holding when they’re out in public?

they r rarely in public but uh. light does. he’s getting used to being out and part of him just rlly enjoys the physical evidence of their relationship that hand holding provides. that closet was so suffocating. it’s time to let those hands breath a little.

who comes up for the other all the time?

i still don’t entirely understand what this means entirely but i’ll take my best stab at it. i think L comes up for light a lot, esp if he’s talking to like the wammies or literally anyone who isn’t light himself or his family. like, p much everyone is like “but.....he’s kira???” and L is like “look. listen. i don’t know why but he’s. he’s rlly important to me. so its maybe better if we don’t shit talk the guy who sucks my dick? at least not rn.” he doesn’t do it v often bc usually the insults thrown toward light r well deserved but sometimes he does. light doesn’t come up for L like ever. he nvr talks to anyone abt L. whomst would he tell? yamamoto? secretly he goes on a couple message boards tho and send mean anon messages to ppl talking shit abt L but that’s as close as he gets.

who hogs the blankets?

L will b wrapped in a big old blanket bundle like that picture of homer simpson where he’s like “ah. i’m just a big cozy cinnamon bun.” light’s like curled up on his side of the bed w just the sheet but then L reaches over and drags him into the blanket bundle so they r both toasty cinnamon buns together.

who gets more sad?

L is more prone to bouts of depression and can get lethargic if something hits him the wrong way. the first few times it happened, light tried to shake it out of him but he’s learned since then that he’s just gotta ride this shit out. so for a few days or weeks, he’s just got a sad boyfriend so they watch a lot of netflix and don’t get a ton of work done.

light v rarely gets sad. he’s got a v positive outlook on life and doesn’t let a lot of stuff ruin his mood. but when he is sad, its like a big event and he’s crying in the dry tub in just his briefs and a sweatshirt while listening to sufjan on repeat. look. he’s just gotta get it out of his system and then he’ll b fine!

who is better at cheering the other up?

light is better at finding stuff to cheer L up. if L is in a funk, he’ll go search for a good case or an interesting lead so he can present it to him like a cat dropping a mouse in front of him. L is.....not so good at cheering light up. all he knows is how to piss him off. but after a while he starts to puzzle out that light flourishes under praise so he’ll try to keep telling him what a good job he’s doing.

who’s the one that playfully slaps the other all the time after they make silly jokes?

i said this in my mikami/light post but uh, light laughing is so uproarious that he just. whacks the person making him laugh on the back super hard. L doesn’t do anything the first time but the second time he grabs light by the wrist and is like “don’t. control ur self, u loud scream laughing monster.” light keeps his hands to himself when he laughs after that. he’s actually quite embarrassed of his natural laugh bc it is so obnoxious so he often tones it down but sometimes!!! shit’s just too funny!!!

who is more streetwise?

neither of these two know a god damn thing abt the streets. ok, L knows a little bit but he forgot it after building a giant fucking building for one investigation team of like six ppl.

who is more wise?

L knows more abt the world and has more experience than light does. he’s not quite wise?? but he’s definitely more knowledgeable and it smacks him in the face a lot how super young light is. how much he just doesn’t know. but L’s only in his mid twenties. what the fuck does he rlly know?

who’s the shyest?

mmm. they aren’t shy ppl by nature so i’d say neither of them. esp when they’re together. combining their levels of pure confidence is like putting a fire in a room with more fire; it just increases the amount of fire. as their relationship progresses, they get more assertive w each other and idk man. they just don’t do that shy shit.

who boasts about the other more? 

mmmm. i don’t think they brag abt each other a lot but i think light kind of wants to brag abt being w L. i mean, he didn’t think it would happen but then L did come and want to start something with him and its like?? wrow. but he doesn’t rlly hv anyone to brag to so he just sort of lets it sit like a smoldering piece of coal in his stomach, keeping him warm. L exculsively brags abt light during video conferences w the wammies like “MY PARTNER, WHO IS A GENIUS AND V ATTRACTIVE, AND I, WHO IS DATING THIS ATTRACTIVE GENIUS, HV FOUND A CLUE” and like everyone rolls their eyes like “dude u told us the same shit last week like please please please stop telling us abt ur hot boyfriend.”

who sits on who’s lap?

light!!! sits!!! on L’s lap!!!! all the time!!! he curls up in there like a cat and plays w L’s hair.

“am i making it hard to do ur work?” he asks, fingers scratching on L’s scalp.

“yes. but that’s okay. light shouldn’t move.”

so he doesn’t and just falls asleep there, hand on the back of L’s neck and drooling on his shoulder. its cute in like an ugly way.

[ezrafanfic]

An Unexpected Future

PART 7

The car ride was completely silent. Ezra didn’t even bother turning on any music and focused on the road, as I stared at my lap.

I swallowed the hard lump in my throat before speaking up. “Your friends are really great.”

He nodded. “Yeah. They are.” His voice was quiet and rough and he wouldn’t make eye contact.

“Listen, Ezra.” I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“I dunno what for.” The more he spoke, the more I could sense tension and irritability in his voice, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I guess I just feel bad for running out on you in there…”

“Well, then. If you’re sorry for wussing out and leaving it all up to me to break the news to my friends, I accept your apology.”

“Are you kidding me?” I huffed. “If it wasn’t for the sudden need to puke my brains out and the fact that you didn’t find it necessary to inform me about your big plans to travel the entire country, maybe things would have gone a little smoother.”

He didn’t say anything and I just rolled my eyes, folding my arms across my chest and I looked out the window.

It was too quiet, so I reached over and turned on the radio, not even paying any mind to what was currently playing. Anything was better than the painful silence.

Then out of no where, when our light turned green, Ezra went and a car flew out in front of us. Ezra slammed on his breaks and laid on his horn. The guy stuck his hand out of his window, giving Ezra the finger.

“NO, FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE!” Ezra hollered, speeding past him, laying on his horn again, and he cut the guy off, “LEARN HOW TO FUCKING DRIVE OR STAY OFF THE ROAD!”

“Hey!” I yelled at Ezra, who was breathing heavily and clutching the steering wheel tightly. “Calm down! Pregnant girl in the car!”

“I am calm.” He said.

“Pull over.” I demanded and to my surprise, he didn’t argue and pulled over to the side of the road as soon as he had the chance.

He put the car in park and rested his forehead against the steering wheel.

“Sorry,” He breathed.

“I can drive the rest of the way if you need me to,” I said. “But I think we should talk first.”

“What is there to talk about?” He lifted his head up. “Look, we just found out about the tour a few days ago. I wanted to tell you, I just didn’t know how to. But I’ve been thinking and it’s probably not the best idea right now to pick up and leave in a few months with a baby on the way…”

I shook my head. “Ez, I know how happy music and acting makes you. And I think it’s great and you know I support you. You’re super talented and I’m really glad that things seem to be looking up for you lately. And I want you to be open to every opportunity that comes your way. But you’re going to be a father now and that’s a new opportunity in itself. But I-I just didn’t know if this is something you really w-wanted. I-if it’s not, I u-understand…“

I was crying and Ezra pulled me close, his arm around my shoulders and I leaned into him.

”(Y/N),“ He said as I wiped my eyes on the sleeves of my sweater. “Hey, I’m sorry I’m such a shitty friend. I should have told you…Look, I admit, when we found out about the tour, the three of us sat there together, looking at a list of all the places we would get to visit and I thought that nothing would ever make me happier than being with those guys, traveling the country and making music. But today, when we got to see our baby and hear its little heart beat…” he stopped talking for a moment and I could feel his hand resting on my stomach. “I knew that really, nothing would make me happier than being a father.”

I sniffed, placing my hand on top of his. “Really?” I asked. “You mean that?”

He smiled. “I do.”

I sighed. “Still, I don’t want you to sacrifice your career…”

“I’m sure I can work something out.” He said. “But it’s not for you to worry about, alright?”

“Fine. Just as long as you don’t keep me in the dark from here on out.”

“Of course not.”

Ezra was much more calm and collected after our conversation and I trusted that he wouldn’t have another crazy episode of road rage, so he drove us to the city. I didn’t eat anything at the diner and after throwing up what little I did have in my stomach, Ezra insisted that I get some food in me.

“What are you in the mood for?” He asked me.

“Call me crazy, but a big fat juicy burger would be pretty fantastic right now.” I said and he laughed.

He took me to a small bar that was a few blocks from my place. It was a little early, only going on 4, but Ezra wanted a beer and the place had pretty good burgers.

We were sitting, chatting about the tour and a few movie rolls he was interested in auditioning for and I was going on a rant about all the stupid courses I had to take in order to have enough credits to graduate, when a small group of girls approached us.

“Excuse me,” One of them said to Ezra as the rest stood behind her, giggling to each other. There was 4 of them. “We don’t mean to interrupt, but we saw you walk in. We’re all such big fans! Do you have a moment for any autographs?”

“Oh sure,” Ezra took the pen and tablet from the girl. “No problem.”

I rolled my eyes and watched him do his thing. It wasn’t the first time this had happened when we were hanging out, but it was something that definitely got old quick, at least for me. Ezra was always really polite and patient and I had no clue how he always managed it. I noticed the girls kept glancing over at me as he wrote them each a short message along with his signature. I just sat there, quietly nibbling on my food.

The girls thanked him and went on their merry way and Ezra turned to me.

“Sorry,” he said, bashfully. “I wish I could say that hasn’t been happening more often than usual lately…”

I held out a napkin towards him. “Oh, Ezra.“ I said in a mocking tone. “I’m such a big fan. Can you sign this napkin for me? I already used it to blow my nose. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Ew, don’t be disgusting.” He shooed the napkin away, but laughed. He reached over and grabbed a french fry off of my plate. He already had a few beers and I was full.

“Well, it’s good to see that all this fame over the years has yet to go to your head.“ I said.

He shrugged. “It is what it is.”

I watched as he finished off what was left of my fries. “So, do you plan on telling everyone?”

“If by everyone you mean the press or the media, I dunno.” He said. “I'm assuming you’re talking about the baby.”

“What else would I be talking about?” I asked.

“Us.”

“Whoa, slow down buddy.” I laughed. “We’re just friends, like we have always been.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” He said. “But I feel like it’s suddenly more…complicated.”

“Because I’m pregnant?”

“Of course.” He definitely had a bit of a buzz going after 4 and a half beers. When Ezra drank, he got pretty chatty, more so than usual. “But it’s not just that. I mean, we haven’t really talked about it much, you know? The night we slept together?”

“Well, we don’t have to talk about it,” I reassured him, my face red with embarrassment at the sudden direction the conversation was going.

“Do you not want to talk about it?” He asked.

“Not really.” I admitted. “I’m perfectly content not talking about it, actually.”

He snorted. “Sorry. We don’t have to talk about it then. It’s just that Lilah and Josh asked me if we’ve been seeing each other. And I didn’t really know what to tell them, not that I told them that we were or anything. But, I guess it was a fair question to ask considering we have been spending a decent amount of time together lately and we both really want to have this baby…And I haven’t been with anyone else since we-“

“Ez,” I laughed. “Please, shut up. You’ve been drinking and are getting way ahead of yourself…”

“Sorry.” He apologized again.

“Stop apologizing,” I groaned. “Hey, I don’t know about you, but I’m still trying to wrap my head around this whole pregnancy thing. We don’t have to rush into anything because there’s a baby involved, alright? So let’s slow it down with the relationship talk.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “You’re right. I think we should take things slow. Well, as slow as one can take things with a girl they’ve already had sex with and managed to knock up…”

I laughed, shaking my head. “So much for NOT talking about it.”

“Oh, bite me,” He clicked his tongue against his teeth, “I’m only half drunk. Forgive me and my inability to keep my mouth shut right now. Just try and imagine how much worse you would have it right now if I was hammered.”

“You’re right,” I gasped, sarcastically, “Oh, it could be much worse. You could try to have your way with me and get me pregnant.”

We were both laughing hysterically for a few minutes before Ezra made his way to the bar and ordered a few more drinks.

[eternalsterekrecs]

A Life Less Ordinary by Jebiwonkenobi

It takes a few years but eventually they manage to agree on something; Derek Hale is an asshole, and Stiles Stilinski is in love with him.

Burn by night by thebrotherswinchester

Sheriff Stilinski has been kidnapped by Alpha werewolves. As bait. For his own son.

Cupboard Love by mklutz

He’s carefully balancing the sandwiches and the two biggest tupperware containers he could find that both had functioning lids when the front door opens and he almost drops everything right there in front of the stupid fountain.

If that’s Derek Hale, he’s definitely not a mountain man.

Daddy’s Do’s by apocryphal

“Hi Mr. Stilinski!” Lydia said pertly. “My name’s Lydia, and this is my daddy. His name is Derek Andrew Hale and he watches all of your videos on YouTube a lot, but he still can’t braid.”

[Stiles is a celebrity YouTube hairstylist. Derek may or may not have a crush. Lydia just wants a French braid for school picture day.]

Everything’s Better Under the Sea by tryslora

Everything changes when Derek goes under while surfing, hits his head on a board, and sees a man with a tail swimming away. He wants to know who that was, and what it has to do with Beacon Hills, the one place he never meant to come back to.

Five Times Stiles Apologized (and One Time He Didn’t Need To) by Analiena, QueenOfTheCute

Gravity’s Got Nothing on You by zosofi

“Three weeks,” Derek says.

“Still don’t want to,” Stiles says.

“I’ll pay you,” Derek says, and that… that has Stiles interested. Alf’s Antique’s may be a great job, but it’s not a high-paying job, and half of Stiles’s tuition is coming from financial aid, so…

“How much,” Stiles asks, “are we talking here? Because I know your family, dude. And it’ll be kind of awkward after.“

“My family thinks you’re some sort of fucking gift to the world,” Derek seethes, like he’s jealous, “they’ll probably be pissed at me when we break it off, so don’t worry about that. Five hundred bucks.”

“A thousand,” Stiles says, because screw ethics. Also, the Hale family is loaded. Derek can deal.

Hold the Door by Hatteress, maichan808

When Derek is killed by a rival alpha, the pack will stop at nothing to get him back. Even if that means blackmailing the most dangerous hunter duo this side of hell. Whatever. That whole devil thing was probably totally exaggerated, anyway.

If galileo gave us good advice by proxydialogue

Stiles is glued together wrong. That’s the best that Derek can figure.

Jambalaya by SylvieW

Derek hasn’t had a job for years. Now that he’s decided to stay in Beacon Hills, he wants to put down roots. But making friends with his co-workers is a lot harder than he remembers.

Knot if You Don’t Knock by jsea, marguerite_26

Stiles never expects to present as an omega -- that's something that happens to people like Greenberg, not him. He is so wrong.

His life only gets stranger when Derek Hale mistakenly bursts through the door of his exam room during a doctor’s appointment. What happens next is a complicated series of events, including freshly baked cookies, book-carrying and surprise heats.

Like French Vanilla Ice Cream by GotTheSilver

Hale Sounds, Open 'til Midnight.

An Empire Records AU.

“Well, maybe you should sort out your own love life before looking at mine.”

“I don’t have a love life.”

“That’s the point I was making,” Erica responds in a tone of voice that suggests she thinks Derek is stupid.

Mǣnōn by MyBeth

Knotting. It’s a thing that exists. Like werewolves and weird lizard creatures. It’s just rated NC-17 so you don’t hear about it so much on TV. It exists and he gets it. Stiles. He’s the one that gets it.

Numbers by standinginanicedress

“I'm magic,” Stiles raises his hands in the air and puts on a serious facial expression. “I have the sixth sense.”

“The sixth sense, huh? Is that what they're calling bullshit these days?”

Stiles' lips purse down hard, but he still smirks. Derek wonders if there's any single facial expression that Stiles can make that isn't in some way at least slightly amused, whether at himself or the expense of others. “Non-believers aren't welcome at my table, Derek.”

Of Wolves and Doughnuts by Hatteress

When Derek was fifteen, circumstance and a goddamn doughnut had seen fit to Bond him to Stiles Stilinski.

In which Derek is more cunning than anyone gives him credit for, Stiles doesn't understand why the new Alphas in town are all up in his business and everyone gets a violent crash-course in what it means to be Pack, whether they're in it or not.

Pale Skin and Fragile Bones by lydiasbones

“I’m not going to do anything!” Lydia defended, looking far too affronted to be genuine. “It just seems that the universe has decided that the two of you will continue to run into each other at an improbable frequency for the foreseeable future. I’m banking on that.”

“You don’t bank on anything,” Stiles said grimly. “You make things happen.”

Lydia smirked. “That’s not entirely untrue.”

--

Or, the one in which Derek arrests one of Stiles' friends and Stiles holds a grudge. Also, Stiles wrote Derek's favorite book. But they don't know that.

Queer Your Coffee by alisvolatpropiis

Derek's just over the city line when he sees a sign for an independent drive-thru place, Full Spectrum Brew. There are three cars in line when he turns in, which annoys him but gives him hope. Not that he really trusts the people of Beacon Hills to have much taste when it comes to coffee (god, he is a snob), but the shop’s popularity does seem to bode well. The line of cars moves way more slowly than he’d like, each customer in front of him seeming to take way too long to order, and then lingering when they get their coffee. He’s irritable from lack of sleep and an even more detrimental lack of caffeine, anxious to get out of the car. Finally it’s his turn and he slowly rolls up to the window, turning the radio down.

For a second, he thinks he must have fallen asleep while he was waiting, because what he sees when he looks in the window surely must be a dream.

Stunning brown eyes like glowing honey and sweet little nose, slightly upturned; a shapely pink mouth, bottom-lip pierced by a thin black hoop that he's worrying with the tip of his tongue as he smiles a gorgeous hello.

He's the most beautiful man Derek's ever seen.

And he’s shirtless.

Running Down a Dream by tryslora

He wakes into an unknown room and without his memories. The name they give him tastes unfamiliar on his tongue, and he wonders if he'll ever find the memory-eating aliens that did this to him, or the magical spell to give him back his life.

Stacking Up by bravelittlesoldier

Stiles is working in the basement of the Library of Congress and is feeling his social skills quickly deteriorate. Then along comes a new librarian working at Circulation who is most definitely a male model. Maybe its time to start re-socializing.

The Pope Would Brag by Hatteress

The thing is, Derek’s really, really hot. Like, insane levels of attraction. What with the leather and the cheekbones and the stubble and the ass — oh god, that ass — Stiles can’t really be blamed, at all for freaking bragging.

Now if only his college friends actually believed Derek existed.

Up and Coming by Fanhag102

Stiles and Derek work in the same building and every day ride up in the elevator together.

That is pretty much the extent of their relationship—until one day the elevator breaks down, trapping the two of them inside and maybe forcing them to admit to each other that the attraction is mutual.

Voldemort and Jean Valjean (Walk into a Coffee Shop) by PsychicPineapple

So sue him, Stiles had a stupid habit of giving out goofy names at coffee joints.

**

‘Name?’ He stood with his sharpie at the ready.

‘Voldemort,’ Stiles answered without missing a beat.

With metal on our tongues (we’ll be dressed in rags) by Rena

Double-oh agents are a piece of work; Stiles knew that before he became MI6's new quartermaster. It's cool, he survived Lydia in college, he can deal with stubborn, reckless, trigger-happy operatives. Derek Hale, though, is definitely trying to live up to his predecessor's legacy and make Stiles' life more difficult.

AKA the one where Derek is 007 and Stiles is Q and they bitch and angst their way to a Happy Ending.

XXX by foxtricks

Stiles wears Xs on his hands, and Derek wants to know why.

You Can Cry Wolf, But Stop Running by iamursforevrmre

Derek Hale is the third baseman for the Los Angeles Dodgers. Stiles doesn’t know why he has an apparent thing for third basemen and he has no clue why he’s even watching the Dodgers. He’s a Mets fan.

Zoo Security by Inell

Derek gets a call to come pick up Stiles and their daughter from the zoo security office.

[incarnate-death]

(trigger warning) "Media Respresentation of Fish Bowls" by alex

when I’m empty the silence is big enough to fill me. even though I am hungry the last bites are tough; i throw the chunks back with water like a pill or with wine despite being able to swallow a pill as big as a flaccid dick without a drop of liquid. Every morning when I wake up there are stalactites hanging from the blinds so I say good morning to Freud and suck a dick, for good, measure the molly before the silence plugs it into my asshole--no blue tooth allowed; just a direct connection with my boss Lucifer’s penis envy, which is sad and small, but I have a calling to make the soundscape of hotel rooms with cries for more for more for more. It went something like this: live for more for more for more then kill myself. "I’m transgender and all the media representation trans prostitutes get made me wanna try it too! Maybe I’ll have my own film or tv show!" I needed more or i'd be on the streets. I need Bread on Bread. Rolls. Paper on Paper. Leaves. Bills on Bills. Duck$. I turned my face away to cry while he fucked me. It hurt so bad, but. Running through my head the whole time: fuck you (everyone and anything) too for the lies the equivalencies the contingencies the similitudes and the abstractions There is a break and I call my partner and promise to suck the next one off and try and get him to come before he can fuck me to spare my raw vagina. we can have good sex when I come home; like the kind of sex that doesn’t require a fistful of lube and a fat line of coke to get through. The kind where we fuck for hours until neither of us can physically go on so we just rest inside each other. This client doesn’t go quite that way. He’s is flaccid but still somehow manages to get it in after enough lube and spit on spit. Afterward he mentions something about liking our second fuck better than the first and promise to schedule again. I hadn’t recognized him at all. He hands me an extra bill and walks out the door. Tips on tips. Dicks. This is the only thing keeping you going, I tell myself as I clean up the room for the next worker and client. And I write. I photograph what i cannot write and write everything. I’m bitter like premium french espresso served to a pig dying of thirst, which would be a great photo-poem. Pigs on pigs. Fuck 12. They raped me. If your speakers can’t handle me put on something else. The doctors tried to diagnose me. No one knows where what happened to them. Truth is, the doctors would say I have the paraphilia autoeroticism or autoandrophilia, others would asexual and all would say I’m bipolar and borderline and major depressive and gender dysphoric and eating disordered, which seem like contradictions to me. how can someone who’s turned on by themselves also have a hobby of sawing into their own legs with a meat-knife? I’ve never been to the doctor, but i might as well be one. You can call me doctor. The doctor takes house calls only in dire cases and when Lucifer says so. Lucifer is the pimp. Lucifer is also an autoerotic, and a magician, and I am his apprentice magician. The most convincing thing he ever said to me about mysticism was that the God of the bible is also autoerotic and that’s how He made Jesus. For a second I felt like a doppelganger Jesus that could save the earth from the Anthropocene by killing everyone, but then the wood in between my thighs brings me back to 200 dollars an hour and debt for a degree that we all know could be worthless. The academy is obsolete; the streets are paved with gold; i’m still going back to school; after a year of writing and rewriting, saying and resaying the trauma of my horrifically violent childhood, i proved that i was in enough pain for the college to consider me independent of my parents and therefore eligible for increased financial aid. When is pain ever taken for granted, not questioned when someone says ouch?? Do i have pay to get a parking permit for my ouch so it can take up temporary residence in your fishbowl?? Fuck you. I used to hold it in and I’m a good learner and good learners are good at learning to believe that holding it in works. So they don’t even realize they’re doing it until they’re screaming “FUCK YOU GOD” on enough DXM to make me stupid for days. for days I felt like I had zero gravity eyes, or a bobble head, or was being posessed by some spirit of the eye.I’m just a pair of eyes, tits,  and ass lost in a sea of opposable thumbs. that’s how I feel in spring. or sometimes there is no rhyme or reason to my malaise. Should someone call 911 and put me in the hospital??? Only if there’s an overdose, or if i quit drinking water. Starting-not-eating-food usually isn’t reason enough for those three hellish digits. There must be some line in the moral universe I occasionally cross from killing myself to killing myself quicker that makes people call. I remember being at the nasty end of police heavy armored vehicles, mounted by snipers. it was North Dakota, Standing Rock women’s protest, but i went anyway to the front line, Thanksgiving 2016. But just thinking about Standing Rock softens me a little, even thought the nodapl movement feels like broken senseless commitment to plan and move after the trump election. How long before we make the emergency call?? One very underrated fact of life is that, everything has a double. Society is in opposition with life and therefore collapsing. Morality in a globalized world is genocide. Genocide is progress. Progress is suicide. suicide. s u i c i d e .suicide sounds better than what these old men get out of me. some of them are really quite nice, except…. burnt stake of dick torn off and rammed into its owner. the viscosity of blood is lovely. Secret: once I told a client that if we did knife play - cut each other in bed - I’d cut my rate. I could think of no better way to, in the same moment, destroy myself and make myself stronger-godlike, even. I made him bleed for my pleasure; carved lines where I imagined the ribs would be if they weren’t covered in fat like mine. and then when it was their turn to cut me…. i called my boss and said the client was some patrick bateman freak with knives, get him out; less than a minute later his already bloody body is dragged out the room by security and he is blacklisted by the escorting agency. he had raped me several times. trust me; i remember his face--i’m not a sadist, I just believe in justice. and I like to play with my food more than i like to eat it.