#my cat needs to grow thumbs i know hes smart enough to figure out the microwave

[gracelesslion]

The worst thing about being sick when you're an adult is no one's gonna cook for you.

[volleychumps]

hii! can I request headcanons/scenario (up to you) to kuroo's first year sister becoming nekoma's manager (also kuroo is a little overprotective) and the team going to a training camp with the others for the fist time? thank you in advance!

 Awh yes of course this prompt made my heart go !!! This is a tad crack-filled but it has its’ sappy moments, I hope you enjoy!!

The Younger Kuroo

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

“And what do we say when a boy asks for your number?” 

“Oh please, jump into my bed. I’ve been waiting.” 

You dodge the thump to the forehead from Kuroo’s thumb as you hide behind a cackling Yaku, who wiped a tear from his eyes at the promise of death in your older brother’s eyes. 

“No. Try again.” 

“I’m not five~” you whine, stretching your legs out from the slightly cramped bus ride. You loved Lev like a brother, but his legs hardly gave you any room to sit comfortably. Said boy hadn’t even realized until towards the end of the ride, panicking and taking your bags up for you as an apology with a sheepish grin on his cat-like features. 

Kai thumps your head for Kuroo, causing you to protest. “Kai! I’m supposed to be your favorite!” 

“Keep making jokes about bringing boys into your bed and you won’t be.” 

“Um sir, I’m actually going to be sleeping on a futon-” 

You dodge the next flick to your head, grumbling about how your brother’s team abuses their own manager as you run ahead to catch up with Kenma, ignoring the agitated calls for your ass to get back there from your brother. 

Kuroo rolls his eyes at the actions of his younger sister, watching Kenma show you what he was playing as Yaku brings a hand up to his neck, the three third-years watching with slightly worried expressions as their little sister figure hops onto Inuoka’s back. 

“Will she really be okay?” 

“She’s smart. She can take care of herself.” 

“MORI, INUOKA ATE MY COOKIES!” 

“I BOUGHT THEM FOR YOU-”

“Inuoka don’t steal her snacks! She’s still growing!” 

Kuroo sighs, the captain raising a hand to his eyes as Kai grins lopsidedly next to him, looking a little apologetic. 

“Nevermind. She’s a dumbass.” 

“So...we should worry about her?” 

This would be a long training camp. 

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

“Yamamoto, bend your knees a little more.” You instruct, resting a hand on the boy’s back as Yamamoto nervously looks to the side in case Kuroo was looking. You roll your eyes, applying more pressure. Your brother’s overprotective nature was funny at times, but not when it got into your duties as team manager. 

“Are you really her?!” 

“Bokuto, I said no!” 

You blink, hiding behind Yamamoto on instinct as a boy with burly arms and silver hair came running towards you, excitement brimmed in his gold irises as Kuroo holds his collar with an irk mark. A second guy with slightly disheveled hair came walking in tow, hands stuffed in his pockets as if this were an every day occurence. You focus in on their shirts. Fukurodani Academy. 

“Huh? Wait...” The Fukurodani member looks deep in thought. “She’s like, totally cute. What happened to you?” 

“Akaashi, please claim your pet.” Kuroo snips, but before the second boy can step forward, you’re laughing and stepping out from your hiding place and extending a hand to the silver haired boy, who grips it excitedly as he ignores Kuroo’s protests. 

“I’m Kuroo Y/N! The totally cuter sibling.” 

“Bokuto Kotaro! You can call me Bokuto onee-chan!” 

“No you cannot.” 

“...Bo onee-chan?” you offer a bit timidly, ignoring the glower from your older brother as you hide your smirk. 

Bokuto swooned, causing the second boy to nudge him, an amused look tickling his features as he bows respectfully. 

“Akaashi Keiji.” 

“Keiji-Kun?” You grin, and the blue-eyed boy takes on a look of surprise and seems to ponder it for a moment, nodding his head before bowing again. 

“We’ll be taking our leave, Kuroo-san.” 

“Call me Y/N!” You call, the setter turning slightly in their depart to nod to you as Bokuto fist pumps the air, claiming you were totally his type before you zone in on your unamused older brother, whose arms were crossed as you grin a little sheepishly. 

“You’re telling me you know those two hotties and you’ve never bothered to set me up?” 

“Y/N-” 

“Joking! It was a joke!” You say a little too quickly, jogging off to encourage Kenma to get his ass off the bench as Kuroo groans, tugging Kai and Yaku off to the sidelines. 

“...yeah. we might need to worry.” 

“What are you talking about?” Mori laughs. “She’s not a kid, Kuroo. We don’t need to look after her as much as we did before.”

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

“Literally fuck what I said before.” 

“Just how the hell did she manage to befriend the whole Karasuno team?” Kuroo grits out, Bokuto chuckling to his side as Akaashi reminds Kuroo not to snap his chopsticks in half. 

“Even Tsukki isn’t telling her to leave his sight. Is she magic or what?” 

The event where you were sitting between the vice-captain and wing spiker of the Karasuno team during that evening meal had begun when the captain had accidentally sent a receive towards your head, the goregous team manager managing to protect you in time with a swift wave of her hand. The vice-captain had rushed up to you in a hurry, apologizing profusely before the hyper libero invited you to come eat dinner with them, claiming he would buy you anything you wanted from the snack vendors afterwards. 

“Daichi, if you don’t stop apologizing, I will press charges.” You warn, placing more rice in your mouth as Yachi giggles from across you, eyes curious. 

“It’s hard to believe you’re Kuroo-san’s little sister, Y/N.” 

“You’re not scary...at all. Are you sure you two are related?” Hinata blanches, pretending he can’t see the glower from the captain across the cafeteria. You shrug, shooing the offered fried katsu from Sugawara’s chopsticks away. 

“Eat, Suga. I’m not dead.” You huff, turning to reply to your new friend. “And Hinata, don’t talk with your mouth full. Sadly, we came from the same womb and he was my first bully.”

The fact that you were both first years made you get along easily with the freckled boy, Yachi, Hinata, and even the genius blue-eyed setter and the tall middle blocker managed to engage in conversation with you one or two times. You noticed that the boy who claimed a little too boisterously to call him “Tanaka-Senpai” and the libero “Nishinoya-senpai” were looking at you with stars in your eyes before cutting you off mid-conversation. 

“Was being saved by Kiyoko a mesmerizing experience?” 

“Daichi, why don’t you throw a volleyball at their head so they can see?” 

“Suga, I said I was sorry, I feel bad enough!”

“You hurt a kouhai!” Suga over dramticizes, playfully creating a human shield between you and the captain. “You don’t even deserve to look at her!” 

You laugh, the laugh dwindling slightly when you meet Kuroo’s eyes from across the room. The team all look down at once, Lev pouting and Yaku seeming to be a little more quiet as Yamamoto and Fukunaga pretend to carry on a conversation. 

The captain looks away quickly, and you frown, focusing on your meal. It looks like you were going to have an unexpected team meeting tonight. 

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

“All right. Why is everyone on edge?” You throw the door open, not even flinching when some of your boys were in the middle of putting their shirts on. Lev and Inuoka both squeal overdramatically, covering their bodies. 

“Y/N you perv!” 

“Oh shut up, you always walk around shirtless and I say nothing!” You protest, plopping down in your brother’s futon. “Where is Kuroo anyway?” 

“Out. You know you can’t be in the boys’ dorms this late, Y/N. Do you want me to walk you?” Yaku crosses his arms strictly, and you sidle up to Kenma before resting your head on his shoulder tiredly, the boy you grew up with not even reacting as he continues to tap away on his console. 

“Nope.” You pop the p. “I just feel like I should say something. So gather around, chums.” 

“What, are you british now?” 

“Lev I seem to remember asking you to gather around, not hit me with an attitude.” You reply sassily, clapping your hands together. “Group circle. Now.” 

“She does have that captain vibe.” Yamamoto mumbles to Fukunaga as he simply nods in response. As your boys gather, you wait for them to settle before starting. 

“Okay, so welcome to alcoholic’s anonymous-” 

“Never mind. She doesn’t have a captain vibe, I must’ve been crazy.”

“Hi I’m Inuoka, and-

“Get to the point Y/N.” Kai says seriously as he yawns. You cross your legs, pressing the off button on Kenma’s console before looking at each of them individually, a seriousness in your eyes that was rarely there. 

“You do know I love you guys, right? Just because we’re at a training camp doesn’t mean I like the other teams more than I like you...so I wanted to say I’m sorry if it seemed like I was being a little neglectful...” You trail off, fiddling with your fingers. “I know some of you see me as your younger sister, and I really really don’t want you guys to feel like you guys are replaceable, because you aren’t.” 

You look up to see a mixture of surprise as some near tears (Lev and Inuoka) before you hastily add,  “And thus that ends my cheesy speech. Anyway, I struggle with high-amounts of alcohol consumption-” 

You’re cut off when the first years tackle you into a hug, crying they’re really glad you’re their manager as you struggle to breathe. You look up after you manage to shove them off, Yaku ruffling your hair as Kai crosses his arms with a satisfied grin on his face. Even Kenma had a little smile on his face before turning his console back on. 

“Sis.” 

You freeze up. It was time to face the final boss. Your head turns to sheepishly smile at Kuroo before he rolls his eyes, jutting his head to the side slightly. 

“I’ll walk you out.” 

“Goodnight Y/N!” 

“We love you!” 

“Speak for yourself-” 

“Shut up Kenma, we know you do.” 

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

“So you heard?” You walk next to your older brother, arms swinging loosely as Kuroo hums in response, hands shoved in his jacket pockets. 

“It was nice for you to clarify.” Kuroo speaks after a few brief moments of comfortable silence. “For awhile, we were the only team that didn’t have a manager to deal with us, so I’m not surprised they got a little worried seeing you cozy up to other teams. One might say even a little possessive.” 

Kuroo stops, and you turn curiously to face your brother. 

“It honestly makes me really scared to think one of these bastards might steal my little sister away. None of them are deserving of you, and I’ll be damned if I let you think that they are.”

You blink. Kuroo saying nice things seemed to only happen once in a blue moon. 

“Tetsurou-nii.” You say softly, tugging on Kuroo’s sleeve. “I’m not a kid anymore, you know? I’m not that middle schooler that always followed you and your friends around, having an unexplainable crush on Kenma-” 

“Get to the point.” 

“I’m happy you care.” You hug him, feeling Kuroo relax into your embrace. “But you gotta let me grow up some day, you know? And that thing about none of the team being replaceable?” 

Your grip tightens just a little more. “You’re the one it applies to the most. You’re my one and only older brother who pisses me off at times, but...I...ugh god....why is this so hard? I uh... l-love you, big bro.” 

You feel a hand rest on the top of your head as Kuroo sighs. “I love you too, little sis, so stop saying gross stuff.” 

“Then don’t pout at me from across the cafeteria!” 

“Who the hell was pouting? Me? You must be losing your sight, crazy woman.” 

“At least my hair doesn’t look like a duck’s ass.” 

“At least I’m tall.” 

“Don’t be bitter because you weren’t apart of our alcoholic’s anonymous meeting-” 

and so, both Kuroo’s walked and laughed all the way to the girls’ housing, the atmosphere significantly lighter than it had once been. 

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

“What business do you have with our manager, oi?” 

“Yamamoto, let Tanaka and Noya say bye.” You scold, highfiving them with both hands before Daichi approaches, Sugawara by his side as the captain of Karasuno hands you a steaming bag of Taiyaki.

“Share with your friends. This is my official apology. We’ll see you soon, Y/N.” The captain smiles warmly before turning to Suga. “Happy now?” 

“No, you abuser. Goodbye little kouhai!!” 

You wave to Hinata, Yachi, and Yamaguchi from a distance, Tsukishima and Kageyama both simply nodding to you as you shake your phone a little, signalling each of them to text you with the number you gave them with a bright smile. 

“Y/N don’t leave without saying bye to your nii-chan!” 

“Never, Bo-onii!” You cry overdramatically as Bokuto spins you around, Akaashi setting one hand on your head with a slight nod and a smile tickling his lips. It was honestly crazy how close you got with these people in three days, but who was complaining? 

“On the bus. Now.” Kuroo picks you up mid-spin from Bokuto’s grasp as you stick your tongue out, offering your final waves to everyone before Kai simply picks you up by the collar and quite literally drags you onto the bus. 

“Oh, did I miss my abusive boys.” You roll your eyes as you’re seated promptly next to Lev, who kindly kept his legs in check to give you enough room on the bus. “Who wants Taiyaki? Daichi-senpai treated us!” 

“Is Daichi the one? I called dibs, already!” Lev whines as the pastries are passed around, the bus settling into motion before Kuroo delivers a chop to the first-year’s head, who quickly claims it was a joke before a laugh bubbles up in your throat. 

Yeah. Your boys were a bit of a handful. 

“Yaku, you can’t have two!” 

“It just means Y/N loves me more.” 

“I’m her brother, you can’t compete.” 

“Shut up, she hates you half the time.” 

“No one asked you, Kenma!” 

But you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[zutaraangtastic]

imagine your polyship adopting a cat together and everyone fawns over the cat like they’re everyone’s child (bonus if the cat is Zuko's and named Your Honor.)

Coming back to these prompts after a little break (reminder that we are not accepting new prompts; we received these before July 1). Accidentally gave this cat fic a little plot, hope you enjoy! - Mod J

While waiting for the rest of his family and a picnic lunch to arrive in the garden, Zuko notices Izumi crouched in the dirt. Normally, she’d be sitting on the bench, reading in the shade—unlike Kya, who’s laughing wildly and kicking around in the fountain, thriving in the hot Fire Nation sun.

Zuko humors her, lets her splash him and treats her to some slow and easy firebending counter-moves that make her wobbly water whips sizzle into steam. It was refreshing and cooled him off at first, but it has gotten a little tedious to keep drying his robes every five minutes. He’s not dressed for play, just stealing an hour away from the day’s endless succession of formal meetings to spend some time with his lovers and their visiting children.

(His children, in some way—they’ll have to get all that out in the air sooner rather than later, before the oldest two figure it out on their own. His daughter is too smart for her own good, and Bumi is more observant than Katara or Aang realize.)

Izumi still hasn’t moved, so Zuko tells Kya to keep practicing, maintaining a watchful eye on her as he goes to find out what has Izumi’s attention.

He hears it before he sees it: a small, rumbling growl coming from a dark gap beneath the wooden walkway and the ground. Izumi stretches out a tentative hand, but on instinct Zuko pulls her back just as a set of teeth snap near her fingertips. She yelps in surprise, and his heart jumps into his throat with panic that she might be hurt. Her hands are shaky, but otherwise unscathed. Zuko breathes a sigh of relief.

Kya arrives at the site of the commotion, wielding a tenuous rope of water. She lashes it towards the gap and misses, splattering the walkway instead. Izumi jumps to her feet and wards Kya off before she can try again.

“No, don’t hurt it! Avatar Aang says to respect all life!”

“I know that, he’s my dad!”

Zuko spots Katara making her way across the garden to them, a welcome sight amid the chaos. While she sorts out the girls’ argument, he lowers his face close to the ground so he can peer into the hole, holding a small flame for light. A ferret-cat is coiled at the deepest end, its feline eyes gleaming at him before it turns its head away and resumes digging, presumably trying to tunnel its way out. It’s hard to tell, but it looks injured, half of its ear torn, its fur dark and wet in places.

It must have wandered into the garden after a fight. There haven’t been any ferret-cat families here in a long time—after how Azula terrorized them, Zuko wasn’t surprised when they disappeared. It’s hard to believe that that childhood, good and bad, is almost 30 years gone.

He’s spent much of his time as Fire Lord working to restore relationships between the nations. Restoring one with the local fauna shouldn’t be too great a task.

After she finishes explaining the animal crisis to Kya and Katara, Izumi turns to Zuko with imploring eyes. “Can we help it?”

Zuko smiles and squeezes her hands gently in his. “Of course,” he says, and looks to Katara. “Do you know where Aang is? Earthbending might be most useful here.”

Katara nods. “I was thinking the same thing. He just put Tenzin down for a nap, so he should be on his way.”

Just as she says it, Bumi appears around the corner. He sprints down the colonnade parallel to the garden, with his father chasing behind by air scooter. Judging by his casual poise, Aang isn’t really trying to win their race, unlike Bumi, who arrives sweaty and panting. He nearly trips over Kya, earning him a sharp look from Katara, which goes ignored as he turns and waits with his arms crossed. Aang leans forward to speed up in the last stretch only when he realizes he’s being watched.

Dissipating the air and landing lightly on his feet, he ruffles Bumi’s hair and says, “Looks like you’re just too fast for your old man!”

“Dad.” Bumi pulls a face and ducks out of Aang’s grasp. “I told you not to let me win!”

“If you didn’t think you were too old for air scooter rides now, both of us could’ve won.” Aang grins, arms akimbo, and flashes a quick wink at Zuko. “Problem-solving is my middle name, just ask your Uncle Fire Lord. At least he listens to me, most of the time.”

“We’ve got one for you, O Wise One,” Katara says, at the same time as Izumi glues herself to Aang’s pants leg and tugs him to see the ferret-cat, explaining how she found it.

Zuko moves out of the way, gesturing for Bumi to wait his turn. The boy still sulks, but less so when Zuko gets him to talk about his practice training with the palace guards. Getting all fired up about it again, he reenacts some of the kicks and stances he’s learned, and puffs his chest out when Zuko nods approvingly. He barely seems to notice Katara tailing him, attempting to smooth down his hair. Zuko catches her twinkling eyes over Bumi’s head. He fights a smile and tries to stay interested in Bumi’s rambling and cartwheeling.

It’s Kya who sends up the cry when the kitchen servants arrive with lunch. Aang waves for them to start without him, nudging Izumi to go join the others. Katara and Zuko shepherd the kids to their chosen picnic spot under the shade of a maple tree, while Aang sets about fashioning an earthen cage.

Bumi and Kya chow down eagerly, while Izumi only picks at her rice. She nods when Katara encourages her to eat, but she’s distracted, watching Aang. He sits in lotus on the walkway, waiting patiently.

“I thought he was going to earthbend it out,” she says, frowning.

“Maybe he doesn’t want to scare it,” Zuko suggests. “Don’t worry, he knows what he’s doing. If you really want to help, here.” He takes the top off a bowl of steamed meat buns and hands it to Izumi. “Food might coax it out. But you have to eat some of these too, okay? Don’t give them all to the ferret-cat.”

Izumi jumps to her feet, smiling brightly. Then she pauses and looks from the bowl to Zuko. “But Avatar Aang is vegetarian. Will I hurt his feelings?”

Katara exchanges a nearly saccharine look with Zuko, her eyes reflecting the melting of his own heart. “It’s okay, honey,” she says, patting Izumi’s hand. “He won’t mind. Uncle Sokka has practically made him immune to the smell of meat, I promise. And, you can tell him we’ve got vegetable buns for him once he rescues the ferret-cat.”

Izumi nods resolutely and hurries back down the little hill. She lays down a trail of buns leading into the makeshift cage, before sitting next to Aang, painstakingly copying his position. Zuko watches, almost overwhelmed with warmth, as Aang assuages Izumi’s hesitation, gesturing to the food for her to eat. 

Across the picnic blanket from him, Katara wipes Kya’s mouth clean and chides Bumi when he burps, before she releases them, warning that they’ll scare the ferret-cat if they play too loudly. They end up in the fountain where Kya was before, within sight but a safe distance away.

Katara scoots closer to Zuko, laying a hand over his, and he leans on the other as he twines their fingers together, low enough to stay hidden.

“Izumi’s really growing up, isn’t she?” she remarks.

Zuko groans. “Don’t say that, she’s only eight. I want her to stay this way forever.”

Katara laughs lightly. “You’ve done well with her,” she says, and she sounds almost wistful. 

He wonders if she daydreams as often as he does about a life where they could raise Izumi and the rest together full-time, where they could spend the whole day like this with Aang and their children. 

But judging by the sun, edging past its midday zenith, it’s almost time for him to get to his first afternoon meeting. He’s just starting to think he won’t get to see the ferret-cat rescue for himself when a furry white-and-brown head pokes out of the hole. Izumi gasps, and Aang grins at her with a finger to his lips. While the animal busies itself with digging for the meat, he slowly raises the layer of earth it’s on and slides it towards the cage. Zuko and Katara stand to get a better view, and Katara beckons for Bumi and Kya.

The ferret-cat seems to notice the trap at the last second, but Aang earthbends the door into place before it can do anything. Everyone ventures closer once it’s clear that the cage is secure. Katara kneels, drawing water from her satchel and bending it between the gaps in the sides of the box to surround the ferret-cat in a healing blue glow. Izumi speaks soothingly to it while it hisses and squirms.

Smiling, Zuko bends to kiss the top of her head. Then he catches Aang by the shoulder, squeezing gently and resisting the urge to drop a kiss there, too. Aang’s eyes are shining as he looks fondly from the children to Zuko. It’s easy to read the gentle pride in his posture—Zuko knows that for all the world-saving and spirit-negotiating and political crisis-averting Aang’s done, he takes the most satisfaction in the small, everyday kindnesses. He’s always had this soft spot for animals especially.

“I have to go,” Zuko says, “but you know where the physicians’ wing is. I’m sure someone there has some veterinary experience.”

Aang clasps Zuko’s forearm, hand slipping up his sleeve and thumb caressing the way back down to his wrist. “You’ll find us later?”

“Of course.” Zuko reluctantly disentangles his hand and looks over his shoulder to add, “Izumi, be good and listen to Uncle Aang and Aunt Katara, alright?”

He leaves the kids discussing names for their new pet, with Katara jokingly suggesting something to do with honor and Aang interjecting that they might need to wait a while before the ferret-cat is ready to be domesticated. Kya and Izumi get into another argument over it, while Bumi unwisely sticks his fingers in through the gaps.

Zuko pauses one last time at the edge of the garden to look at his family, and knows he’ll spend this meeting daydreaming.

[utopianvoices]

fortuite | k.hongjoong

∞ genre: roommates au; fluff

∞ word count: 5.36k

∞ description: Something had been bugging you for quite some time now—and no, it wasn’t the bug infestation in your room.

∞ a/n: happy birthday to the sweetest, prettiest and bestest friend, @curanonemu​! i’m sorry for being a lazy ass and not posting this earlier but i hope you like it, darling :’) i love u so much hehe! x

∞ warnings: explicit language

i.

There were very few things that could ruin your day; you believed that patience and endurance was the key to living a happy life. So other than the occasional bad grade or last minute assignments, you were sure nothing else would upset you. 

That’s what you thought; until you walked into your shared apartment, just to see half the things missing. More specifically, your roommate’s things. 

With confusion taking over your mind, you walk around your apartment slowly, trying to find for any explanation of what was going on when you reach your fridge, noticing a bright pink post-it that definitely was not there when you grabbed your breakfast that morning.

Peeling it off the cold surface, your eyes scan over the piece of paper in your hand, covered in a messy scribble that definitely belonged to your roommate. You’re not sure why, but your heartbeat picks up its pace as you take in a deep breath before reading. 

You’re not sure what was happening, but you sure were smart enough to figure out that it was nothing good.

Dear Y/n, 

I’m sorry for leaving without a word, but my parents have called me back to stay with them during the semester break. I would have waited for you to get back, but my flight was in the morning and you weren’t in so I had to leave. Sorry, love! Hope you aren’t too surprised >< I’ve left my share for this month’s rent in the envelope on the counter, so don’t worry about that! Hope you aren’t too upset with me <3

Love, Haeun

Staring blankly at the piece of paper in your hands, your mind tries to process what you just read, when it all comes crashing down on you in three mere seconds.

You had just been abandoned by your roommate for the next few months or so, without any prior notice. 

Firstly, you hated living alone. Everyone knew this. Even the cat a few blocks down knew this. Secondly, and most importantly, you were definitely not going to be able to afford your weekly rent alone.

Thoughts of being homeless flashes through your mind as you stare at the paper in your hands, when you notice something written at the back of your post-it. Just as you turn over the post-it in your hand to read what was written, your doorbell rings, causing you to whip your head up towards the door.

Maybe it’s your roommate, coming back to say that this was all the end-of-semester prank and that you’re not going to be stranded all alone.

Opening the door with high expectations, you feel your world crashing down around you when you’re met with an unfamiliar face. 

“Sorry, I’m not interested in buying your products,” you recite monotonously, shutting the door before the boy could finish his sentence. You aren’t usually this rude; most of the time you throw them a sweet smile and say that you’re broke and can’t afford their products. But this wasn’t any other day. 

Taking a few steps away from the door, you finally read the little extra note at the back of the post-it, horror filling you up as the words register in your brain. 

P.S. I know you can’t live alone and the rent is too expensive, so I’ve found a replacement roommate for you for the time being! His name’s Kim Hongjoong and he studies in the music department. He’ll be coming around 3 to move in!

Great. So now, on top of your roommate moving out, you’re going to have to deal with a whole new dude that you’ve never even seen, who’s supposedly coming at 3pm, who’s not here even though it’s 3:05pm- Wait a moment.

You slowly look up towards the door that you had just shut a few moments ago, deeming the guy on the other side of it to be a poor salesman, and take slow steps towards it. 

Grabbing the handle with shaking hands, you slowly open the door to reveal the same guy you had shut the door on. Except now, he was scrolling through his phone seated on one of the many boxes you had failed to notice earlier.

At the sound of the door opening, he looks up from his phone, immediately scrambling up and rushing towards the door.

“H-hey don’t close the door on me, I’m not here to sell anything! My friend, Haeun, told me that I would be moving in here since my roommate was leaving during the break and I couldn’t afford the whole rent!” he went on rambling, not even stopping for a breath in fear that you would shut the door on him again and he’d be left stranded.

You feel the embarrassment rise up to your cheeks as you fight the urge to run into your room and never come out, but you will yourself to say something to the poor boy you had just shut out a few minutes ago. 

“Are you Kim Hongjoong?” your voice comes out hoarse and barely above a whisper, and you feel the embarrassment reaching the top of your head. Clearing your throat, you repeat the question again, somewhat glad that you didn’t sound like a dying frog anymore. 

He nods his head at your question and throws you a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his head as he looks around the corridor in embarrassment, allowing you some time to take in the boy in front of you—who happened to be very cute, to your horror.

Your brain was never going to let you live this down—the fact that you had just slammed the door in this extremely cute boy’s face. Another thing to add to your ever-growing list of “Embarrassing moments that make you want to kill yourself”.

“Do you need help with the boxes?” you ask, wanting to do anything that would distract you from the very cute face in front of you.

“Huh? Oh, yeah sure! Thanks!” he says, seemingly snapping out of his own reverie as he shifts around to get to the first box. 

Both of you work in silence, walking in and out of the apartment till all his boxes were in his room, as the awkward tensions remains. You stand around the kitchen counter fiddling with your thumbs while he sits on the sofa looking around the apartment for the tenth time. Anything to keep you occupied. 

Letting out a sigh, you finally decide to be the first one to break the silence. 

“I’m sorry for slamming the door on you earlier,” you start, feeling the need to apologise. “Haeun left without telling me and I started freaking out about what I was going to do without a roommate because I’m broke.”

As if he was waiting for you to initiate a conversation, Hongjoong looks up almost immediately, shaking his head before starting to speak.

“No, no it’s fine! I can understand how stressful it must have been,” is what he says, laughing slightly at the end of his sentence, thinking of the shit he’d been through when his roommate left. “I was a mess when my roommate left too. I started calling around to check if anyone was willing to be my roommate when I heard from Haeun that she needed someone to move in with you. Of course, I accepted right away.”

You giggle at his words, unconsciously nodding along as the conversation starts flowing between the two of you. It was like someone had flipped a switch, and now you weren’t two awkward strangers. Instead, you were two potential friends (and roommates), having a conversation. 

“Well, I hope that we can make the most out of being roommates!” you say, clapping your hands together, content with the fact that you wouldn’t have to live for the next few months alone. “Need a hand unpacking your things?”

And you’re sure the sun would pale in comparison to the smile you just received from the boy sitting across you, perfect teeth in full display as he shoots you the most breathtaking smile you’ve ever seen. 

“I would love that, roommate.”

ii.

“Joong, we’re going to be late!” you shout out into the apartment, hopping around on one foot trying to keep your balance as you put on your shoes. “Get your ass out right this instant!”

“I’m coming!” you hear faintly from Hongjoong’s room, and soon after you see your roommate rushing out in one of his many reformed shirts, looking handsome as ever. “What time’s the movie starting?” 

“Six.”

“It’s only four right now.”

He looks at you incredulously, unable to understand why you had to be two hours early for a movie that was playing just a few blocks down. 

You, on the other hand, had very different views. 

“Look here, it takes us 20 minutes to get there. And then we’d have to queue to get tickets and snacks, which might take us long considering the fact that it’s semester break and all the dumbasses that go to our college will want to go to that one specific theatre. And then of course, we have to take some mandatory time playing at the arcade before the movie starts because that’s what you’re supposed to do.”

“I’m going to make you rap over one of my tracks one day.” He stares at you in awe, wondering how you can ramble on without even stopping for a breath. “I can’t believe I’ve heard you do that almost everyday for exactly three months.”

“Shut up and let’s get moving.” You threaten him, trying to hold in your own laughter as you point your fingers at him in a makeshift gun, triggering a chuckle from him as he plays along and puts up his hands in surrender .

“Okay Ma’am.”

He’s known you for three months and he should be used to your antics—but it still never ceases to surprise him. In a very good way, of course.

When you slammed the door on him three months ago, there were many things running through your mind. The murder of your roommate, how you were going to manage without a roommate, the murder of your roommate, how you hated being alone, and the murder of your roommate. 

But never would you, in a million years, have thought that you’d find one of your closest friends through that little mishap. Thinking back on it, even though your introductions weren’t through the best, most ideal way, it was natural—almost as natural as the flow of time. Never stopping for anyone, but at the same time filling you up with memories you would forever be grateful for. 

It was the perfect weather outside, you note, as you walk along the stone pavement.

The sun was shining brightly, but not too brightly that it made you want to turn back home and down a few ice cubes to neutralise the heat. The cool breeze that accompanied the sun made it the kind of weather people would kill for when on a date.

And you were the lucky few who got to experience that weather. With the guy you had a humongous crush on. 

It was all too cliché, actually. Falling for your roommate who was handsome, kind, caring, thoughtful and smart? Absolutely unoriginal. 

But it’s completely different when you’re in that position. You really can’t help the few beats your heart skips when he made you breakfast because you stayed up late finishing assignments the night before. Or that one time when you fell asleep on the couch watching How To Train Your Dragon and you woke up with a comfortable pillow under your head that saved you a lot of pain and a fluffy blanket that protected you from the cold—both of which were not there before.

It also definitely didn’t help your poor heart when Haeun announced that she had decided to move in with her boyfriend, after years of being together (and of course, after confirming that you and Hongjoong didn’t hate each other).

So here you are, stuck with an annoyingly handsome and sweet roommate, who didn’t do much to help the not so little crush you were harbouring. In fact, you’re sure that it grows bigger significantly every single day.

“What do you think about love?” Hongjoong asks, finally breaking the comfortable silence and putting a stop to your inner ramblings. 

It might’ve been weird to anybody else—if he were to suddenly ask that question—but you were used to these random questions, because that’s how he found inspiration for his songs. 

“Hm, I don’t really know,” you start, pondering over his question as you both take slow, matching steps beside one another, a sweet scent gracing your noses as you walk past a flower shop. “I guess it’s something that everyone needs. Whatever kind of love it may be. It shapes us as humans and helps us live a better and more content life, I guess. Love can save lives, and maybe that’s why I think it’s the strongest emotion anyone can feel.”

“You’re really wise, you know?” he states, giving you a soft smile as he stares at you, eyes twinkling under the brightest star. “I still can’t believe how lucky I am to score a friend and roommate like you.”

Your cheeks welcome the heat rushing into your cheeks as you hit your friend lightly on the arm, mouth agape as your mind blanks out and you’re unsure of what to say to his sudden confession. 

Through the months of knowing him, you’ve never heard Hongjoong say anything as direct as this. He had his moments of sweetness, always helping you out when you were having problems and listening to you rant no matter how late. But never once did he express his thoughts as explicitly as this. And you had no idea how to react. 

So you settle for your usual comeback, crossing your arms and avoiding his eyes, consequently missing the way he looked at you, eyes filled with love.

“Shut up, fucker.”

iii.

“I can’t believe you made me watch that stupid movie,” you say, kicking off your shoes as you hear your favourite laugh ring in your ears. “You know I don’t like horror movies and yet to choose one. I couldn’t even get rid of the mental images during dinner!”

“I’m sorry but I just love to see your reactions every time we watch one.” He guffaws at your annoyance, clutching the table for support as tears escape his eyes. 

“Good night.”

You huff, walking into your room and slamming the door with a frown on your face, but not genuinely feeling the annoyance you were portraying. You knew you could never be mad at him. 

You hear a faint ‘good night’ from outside your door followed by a door shutting, indicating that it was the end of the day for the both of you. 

With a smile on your face, the day replays in your head and you settle in bed, laying wide awake as memories of you and Hongjoong plays in your mind one after another, like a self-directed movie. 

Everything’s fine, till you feel something crawling up your leg, triggering an immediate reaction from you as you jump out of bed flicking whatever it was, off your leg.

If you thought the horror movie you watched earlier was bad, this was a hundred times worse. 

Because right there, on your bed, you see three small cockroaches crawling around freely, claiming your bed as free real estate as they make themselves comfortable. 

Your first instinct is to walk a few metres down and bang on Hongjoong’s door to get him to help you, but you remember that he has an early class the next day and decide that you will deal with this issue on your own. 

You may be a coward, but you still were a good friend, and good friends don’t spoil their friend’s precious sleep. 

Grabbing the insecticide that you kept under the sink in your bathroom, you walk back to your bed to gas those little demons when you feel your heart drop.

The pests were nowhere to be found. 

Going through the ten stages of grief, you open your closet to grab the extra blanket you kept in there for emergencies, ready to spend your night on the couch when you feel your soul leaving your body for the third time that night. 

You’re not what people would call a hopeless coward. You definitely could kill the occasional cockroach without too much of a fuss. But there was no way you could handle the whole colony of cockroaches in front of you, because trying to gas them would just results in them crawling all over the place. 

So with not much choice, you rush towards Hongjoong’s room, knocking incessantly because there’s no way you were dealing with those satans alone.

iv.

“One week? ONE WEEK?!” you shriek, clutching the ends of your hair as Hongjoong gets off the phone with the pest control centre. “I have to be out of my room for a week because some idiots couldn’t find anywhere else to lay their eggs?”

Stifling a laugh at your words, your roommate pats your shoulder trying to comfort you. “I can help you get your things out of your room if you want. And you can take my bed, and I’ll take the couch?”

You feel a bit better at his suggestion, thankful that you were not in this alone, but nevertheless tell him that you can handle yourself. 

“I can take the couch it’s fine. I’m not picky with where I sleep anyway.”

“We both know that’s a lie,” he deadpans, shooting you a knowing look. “You can’t fall asleep on the couch unless you’re dead tired because you’re so used to the bed.”

“Shut up.”

“Wow it’s almost like I’ve heard that a million times!”

“Shut up.”

“Million and one!”

You throw him a glare as he doesn’t bother controlling his laughter—something he seemed to be doing very often around you. 

“Here, I’ll make you some tea while you set up the couch properly so that you don’t sprain something while sleeping.” With that, he moves to the kitchen and takes out the necessary ingredients to make you your favourite cup of tea.

You felt guilty, of course you did. You felt guilty for every nice thing people did for you. 

But you couldn’t stop the way your heart swelled whenever he did these things for you. He had an early class tomorrow, and yet here he was, making your dumb ass a cup of tea at two in the morning.

If you knew better, you would’ve thought that he likes you. But you didn’t know better. 

Because Kim Hongjoong was head over heels in love with you.

v.

Tossing and turning, all you feel is the dull ache all over your body because of the couch’s hard and uncomfortable surface, and you know you’re in for a long night. The fact that you had an early class the next day didn’t help your desperation to fall asleep too. 

Maybe taking the couch wasn’t the brightest idea you’ve had. 

Snatching your phone from the table, you scroll through your music playlist, finding for songs to play to help set the mood for your sleep, when you remember something. Immediately, you exit the music app and press a few buttons, opening up a page with a single file. 

 Aurora_Sample_KimHongjoong.mp3

It was the first ever track Hongjoong had shared with you, coinciding perfectly with the day you realised your feelings for him. 

“Please please pleaseeeeee!” You whine, following your roommate around, hot on his heels as he continuously shakes his head, indicating a strong ‘no’. “Just one song!”

“No way!” 

“Fine! I’ll just sulk here until you show me a song,” you say, plopping down on the couch with crossed arms and a pout. 

“Sure. I don’t care.” 

His indifference lasted for a total of two minutes before he let out a defeated sigh, kneeling down in front of you, placing his hands on your knees.

“It’s not that I don’t want to show it to you. I’m just not confident enough…” he trails off, looking down at his hands. “What if you don’t like it?”

The frown on your face dissipates as you look at the boy in front of you, looking completely beat because of his worries, and you instinctively take his face in your hands, heart hammering against your ribcage the moment you make contact. 

“I won’t like it,” you start, seeing the hurt seep into his face, but you continue anyway. “I’ll love it—because whatever you put so much time and effort into will definitely turn out amazing. Plus you’re Kim Hongjoong. Producer of the century.”

He blinks at your kind expression, before slowly breaking into a small smile of his own. You stare at each other for what seems like eternity, before he puts out his hand, palm up. 

“Give me your phone.”

You look at him confused, but hand over your phone anyway, watching him almost run into the room.

A few minutes later, he returns with your phone and some headphones. Your eyes follow his figure as he returns to his original position of kneeling in front of you, as he places the headphones over your ears and taps play on your phone.

A subtle, soft tune surrounds you, goosebumps erupting all over your body as his voice embraces your ears. Before you know it, you’re closing your eyes and swaying slightly on your body’s own accord as the music takes over your mind. You’ve never felt this at peace before. 

And it was all because of his song. 

The last note plays, and you slowly take off the headphones, meeting Hongjoong’s expectant eyes. “How was it?”

You let out a slight chuckle, shaking your head slightly as you stare at your roommate. Something warm takes over your heart as you look upon him, making you shudder slightly at the sudden change in temperature. You feel the heat creeping up your body, but not finding it in you to break the eye contact. It was like a magnet—the way his eyes drew you in. 

“It was amazing.” You say gently, and the way his face lights up makes you realise two things. 

Kim Hongjoong was a fantastic producer. 

And you were in love with him.

The couch suddenly feels less burdensome as your favourite tune fills the empty living room, immediately relaxing your body as the song acts as a relaxant. Your eyes droop as you feel sleep welcome you, and you’re about to give in to it when something catches your subconscious mind’s attention. 

With your eyes closed, you hear the faint sound of footsteps growing louder every second, till you feel it stop right in front of you. The couch dips with the weight of someone’s elbows, but you still keep your eyes closed.

And you’re glad you did, because there was no way you could have handled what came next. 

“I really hope you’re sleeping.” Hongjoong’s voice is the last thing that fills your ears before you feel your hammering heart come to a complete stop. 

Something, a pair of lips to be exact, lands on your forehead, pressing against it in a soft kiss, and you feel your whole body on fire, which doesn’t extinguish even after he moves away from you. 

Waiting until you hear the sound of his door closing, you open your eyes wide and stare at the white ceiling above as you try to slow down your breathing. Yelping in pain, you confirm that you were not dreaming after pinching yourself. 

What just happened?

Safe to say, you didn’t sleep a wink that night.

vi.

The next morning, you sit at the kitchen counter, stirring your tea lifelessly as you stare ahead, the previous night’s events playing over and over in your head like a broken cassette. 

“I hate to say this, but I told you so.” You jump at the very familiar voice, heart going wild as your mind controls start to fail. How were you going to face him without exposing the fact that he was all you were thinking about?

No, get your shit together. There’s no way he can find out. 

With some new conviction, you manage to look up at Hongjoong, already feeling the conviction melt away because of how stunning he looked, even at ungodly hours.

“You look like someone bashed you in the eyes, Y/n. Why didn’t you come sleep in my room?” he enquired further, taking a seat on the bar stool opposite you, munching on his bowl of cereal. He freezes halfway, as if coming to a realisation. “W-wait are you uncomfortable? Oh my god, if you’re uncomfortable with me asking this you don’t have to sleep with me- I mean, sleep in my room! Wow, I can’t believe I didn’t pick up on the signs I’m so dumb what am I-”

“Kim Hongjoong, shut up.”

“...... Million and two.”

You burst out laughing at his reply, immediately lightening the atmosphere that was weighed down by Hongjoong’s dumb worries. 

“I’m not uncomfortable, you idiot. I just don’t want to intrude! Plus, there’s no way I can let you sleep on that rock of a couch when you already get so little sleep from producing,” you explain, patting the top of his hand for extra reassurance. 

“Then sleep with me,” Hongjoong finalises, immediately stuttering when he catches your wide eyes. “I-I mean like not with me, I mean we can share my bed, yeah, that’s what I mean.”

You giggle quietly as you take in his rosy cheeks and quivering eyes, as he fumbles over his words to make sure that he doesn’t sound like an idiot, although it was too late for that. Though, he was the cutest idiot you ever had the pleashure of meeting.

“Okay, dumbhead.” You amuse, ignoring the sirens wailing in your head. 

Sharing a bed with your crush? Fate, what are you playing at?

vii.

You’re very much surprised. 

Sharing a room with Hongjoong went way better than expected. But perhaps that was because you always fell asleep before him. He always stays up working on music till the sun rises, and there’s no way you have the strength to stay up. 

On your sixth night, however, things are a little bit different. 

You enter the room, calling out your roommate’s name when you cut yourself off as fast as you can as you take in the sight in front of you. 

Hongjoong was curled up on his side of the bed, his breathing even, indicating that he was fast asleep. Not wanting to wake him up, considering the fact that he must’ve been exhausted to fall asleep this early, you tiptoe around the room, grabbing whatever was necessary before slowly lowering yourself on your side of the bed. 

You plug your phone in before settling in, grabbing your side of the covers and pulling it over you. It was still pretty early, and you weren’t feeling tired enough to fall asleep, so you turn around in your spot to face Hongjoong, grabbing the opportunity to admire your friend without seeming like a creep. 

Your eyes travel from his hair, that looked like a bird’s nest with the number of times he had run his hands through it—a sign that he had been producing something before sleeping—to his lips that had landed on your forehead a few nights ago. 

Did he like you? Or was it seriously just a dream? Whatever the answer was, you knew there was no turning back with how strong your feelings were for him. He was imperfect, but in the most perfect way. He made up for his flaws with his beautiful heart, and you’re sure you must have saved a country in your previous life to be able to meet such a human. 

Looking at him, you’re filled with an overwhelming urge to do something. And you’re not sure what that something is, until your body moves on its own, getting closer to Hongjoong’s face, till your lips are barely a centimetre away from his cheek. 

But right before they make contact, Hongjoong turns his head, and your lips collide with his, causing your whole world to turn upside down.

You almost fall off the bed with how fast you move away from him, aghast at what just happened. There’s no way you’re going to be able to face him ever again. You’d rather sleep in that cockroach infested room than share a bed with your crush, whom you had just kissed on accident. 

Not even stopping to grab your phone, you’re almost off the bed when a hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you back onto the bed, your back flat against the bed as you look up and meet a certain pair of brown eyes. 

Uh oh. 

You’re sure your face is completely red as Hongjoong stares down at you, your hands pinned down by your head as he hovers above you, the intensity in his eyes making you look away at anything but him. 

“Y/n, look at me.” You hear him say, but you turn your head away even more, if even possible. “Please.” 

Maybe it’s the desperation in his voice, but your eyes slowly travel back to face him, not knowing what was going through his mind due to the blank look on his face.

This is it. This is how you lost your roommate. All because you couldn’t control your dumb crush. 

“I’ll move out tomorrow,” you offer, tears already welling up in your eyes at the thought of being away from Hongjoong. “I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean to do it.” 

You’re about to pull your hands out of his loosened grip when his grip tightens again, and your vision is obstructed as he slowly leans in.

Your lips touch softly, before he presses against you a bit harder and you automatically respond, kissing him back. His lips mould against yours like it was meant to be there, perfect for each other, and you’re sure your soul was flying somewhere in the ninth cloud. 

You curse yourself for the disappointment you feel when he pulls away, unsure of what just happened. He rubs his nose against yours softly, before your eyes find each other, drinking in the image of the other. 

“Well, I definitely meant to do that,” he states matter-of-factly, before pecking your lips once more. “And I’ll mean it every single time I do it.”

You stare at him, shocked at the way things were unfolding. Never would you have expected this.

“You like me?”

“No, dumbhead, I love you.” He says it with such sincerity that you can’t help but look away, a smile finally gracing your features as his words ring in your head.

“Shut up.”

“Seriously, you’re going to hit two million at this rate.”

You both take one look at each other before bursting out in laughter, mostly in relief that the elephant in the room had been tackled. 

Hongjoong lets go of your hand before laying next to you, pulling you closer to him and wrapping his arms around your waist, as your head rests on his chest, enjoying the sound of his quickened heartbeat. 

“I love you, Y/n.”

“And I love you too.”

You get an idea; leaning upwards, you place a kiss on his forehead, lips lingering for longer than a second. 

“In return for the kiss you gave me the other night.”

And for the umpteenth time that night, you can’t help but laugh at the horrified expression on Hongjoong’s face, because he had just been caught.

“You were awake?!” 

“Of course! Who even falls asleep on that stupid couch?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?!”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

He shoots you a look, and you decide to stop teasing him, muttering a “Okay I’ll stop”, and snuggling closer to him as you thank your lucky stars mentally.

You really had the best roommate, crush, and now boyfriend.

[bbbarneswrites]

Small Places

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Don’t they say that after a storm, there’s always calm?  Genre: Romance/fluff Rating: T Warnings: Swearings, mental health issues 3,809 words

Notes: Here we are with a new piece after all these months! The songs we got for this one are The Moon by The Swell Season and Cellar Door by Angus & Julia Stone. Hope you guys enjoy it! Feedback always welcomed! <3

The small studio stays right in the heart of Brooklyn, surrounded by themed bars, bright restaurants and a crowd of millennials that makes him cringe every once in a while.

It’s a shoebox.

A bed that fights for space with a small couch, a kitchen that can be sized by two of his steps alone and a cramped bathroom with a bathtub that he honestly can’t fit in. But be as it may, Bucky has never been in a more comfortable, warm and welcoming atmosphere.

A bed with polka-dotted, fluffy blankets, a couch with bright colored and quirky pillows, a kitchen with a line of gifted succulents by the counter and a bathroom with filled shelves of sweet smelling products.

Pictures on the walls, sketches and love notes hung to the fridge, shared clothes thrown over in little corners.

Everything is so lively and familiar—it feels like home outside of his home.

The four walls of your little studio have been witnesses to so much. Whispered love confessions, frantic murmurs of comfort, quiet pleads in between moans, anger filled little lies, and the list can only go on.

There’s a Friday night.

Discarded containers of take-out on the coffee table, and maybe a carton of Ben & Jerry’s forgotten around after a fight over the last spoon. Netflix midway through a random episode of Stranger Things because yeah, Bucky has a growing crush on Winona Ryder. Peace fills up every fiber of his being, and looking down to the sight before him, things can’t feel more right.

“Your heart is beating so fast.” You mumble quietly, chin leaning up to rest upon his chest. A flesh arm tightens around your frame, and a lazy grin grows on your lips. “Are you nervous being around me, Bucky?”

The lightness laced to your voice is familiar, a tone he’s heard many, many times within the warmth of a shared trustfulness.

A smile curls up his lips. Even then, the sound never fails to make Bucky content and happy.

“I’m always nervous around you, baby.” He jokes, a gentle kiss pressing to your temple that earns a happy hum from your chest. “You’re way out of my league.”

Bucky’s smile widens with a muffled whine of protest, and his vibranium hand reaches out to push a strand of hair away from your eyes when you shift on the way-too-small couch. With your face still buried to his chest, there’s no space left between both of you. The fluffy hem of your socks tickles his legs and the skin of his tummy rise up in shivers under your fingers.

Meanwhile, Erica Sinclair goes off about capitalism on TV.

Despite the length of your relationship, a small part of him still gets surprised over moments like this.

Soft fingertips reaching out to his marred left shoulder, a light touch to trace the harsh and old outlines of his scars, by now the only ugly looking, physical reminder of a time of his life that’s best left behind to be buried and forgotten.

With a little giggle escaping from your mouth, Bucky halts his thoughts to focus.

“You’re cute.” You wink playfully, biting your lower lip to hold back another laugh. His cheeks instantly flush a little under the fairy lights of your walls. “This little scar here looks like a stick figure.”

The touch feels nice as your index finger brush over a particular spot near his collarbone. Though he’s observed every single detail of the marks in several occasions, more than enough to make him very familiar with its designs, he immediately takes your hand with his own. Wrapped fingers together, you guide him through his little stick figure.

It’s a little joke, he knows, but Bucky still grins as you make him trace the funny lines of a quirky drawing to his own skin.

And when you tip his chin with your thumb a moment later? Warmth radiating from your body pressed up to his? And lips sweetly meeting his own?

That’s his peace.

There’s a Wednesday morning.

After arriving from a mission, sore muscles and half-healed scabs, Bucky just couldn’t see himself going back to the apartment he shares with Sam—especially after a two week long mission, taking in everything that his partner had to say. And trust, Sam Wilson has a lot of things to say.

To top of it all, he’s missed you.

Missed your laugh and your kisses and your touch. The way you tuck his hair behind his ears, the plush of your lips to the base of his neck. Your cuddles and your warmth and your care. Two long, painstaking slow weeks.

The place is warm as he steps in, slits of moonlight escaping through your blinds. Coming home to you feels right, takes off an edge from his heart, as if everything is right in the world again.

Only silence as Bucky slips under the blankets.

Bleary eyes barely taking him in.

And a happy but tired hum before a familiar frame cuddles to his side.

Sleep welcomes him right in.

Any person that lives in New York can easily list a series of upsides and downsides to coexisting in a studio apartment this small. An upsidde is that you can see and hear everything and the downside is that you can see and hear everything.

White numbers cover up your face on the screen of his phone as it marks 3:36AM. The shuffling and clashing in the kitchen isn’t unusual except for the late hour. Barely four hours of sleep later, and Bucky’s watching a pajama-clad you pour chocolate into a bowl through squinted, heavy eyes.

“Think I need to put you on a sleep schedule.” He murmurs. The sound is low but enough to make you jump on the spot, turn around with a scowl that makes him chuckle. “Come back to bed.”

The tense features of your face melt into a mix of worry and dejection.

“I can’t!” You cry, hands coming up to cover your face in frustration, words all muffled. “I promised I’d bake brownies for the book fair but I was so tired and I meant to take a nap while waiting for you but I just slept and now I woke you up!”

It takes two steps until Bucky has your frame into his arms, a perfect fit that rises butterflies in your stomach after the two, very long weeks. With vibranium fingertips brushing along your cheeks in a gentle caress, every negative feeling slips away.

“You were waiting for me?” Bucky pulls back a little, enough to see you pout through a nod. A loving smile grows easily to his mouth right before a gentle kiss to your lips. “I love you.”

Brownies are made in record time with two sets of wandering hands.

And are successfully sold out by two excellent sellers.

There’s a Monday afternoon.

Clouds are looming over the city. Cold, bitter winds singing loud enough outside. The first few signs of fall can be spotted by a quick walk in the neighborhood by now, trees turning into different shades of brown as pumpkin orange starts to pop everywhere.

Back to a few hours earlier, Bucky begrudgingly kisses you goodbye at the cramped doorstep, fixing your heart-shaped earmuffs with a wish of a good day at school. No paperwork or assignments under his name for a change, the place shelters him from any unexpected Avenger responsability, and he’s more than glad to wait home for you.

Separated dirty clothes, clean dishes back to the cupboards, made-up bed with fresh sheets, organized books and trinkets and papers for the small study table.

Homecoming isn’t as comforting.

Between quiet sniffles, red-rimmed teary eyes and angry huffs of frustration with the addition of a warm tea cup, Bucky cuddles you up to his lap until peace has settled again.

“You gonna tell me who I’m killing tonight?” He jokes half-heartedly, chest a little bit lighter as you giggle quietly, offering a slap to his arm. “Just say the word and I’ll do it.”

A single look from you and his heart swells with affection, the feelings hidden behind the simple act never failing to leave him speechless, wondering if there’s another shoe to drop.

There’s always another shoe to drop in his life.

“You don’t do that anymore, remember?” You say softly, a smart smile playing on your lips that’s followed by a tired, but now content sigh. “I’m okay, promise. Just a bad morning in school that wasn’t expected.”

Hands brought closer together and a kiss pressed to your knuckles by his lips.

Bad days take no excuse.

“Okay, doll.” Bucky frowns, eyes squinted in pretend suspicion as he smirks. “You really sure though? I can call Sam.”

“I’m sure, goober.” You roll your eyes through a laugh, instantly leaning closer until his lips are brushing to your own. “It’s all better now with you.”

Seventy years of a missed life, most of which he’s spent nearly under seven feet underground, locked up like an animal and abused for selfish power. Ruthless damage to every inch of his being, every sliver of hope taken from him without permission for decades. Now, eight years after a seeming never ending storm, Bucky finds reason in all of this.

It feels good to know that she’s with him too.

And if the day ends up to both of you curled up in the back booth of the diner down the street, ordering a late night breakfast with pancakes and eggs and bacon, then it’s a good day after all.

There’s a Thursday night.

The day has been slow in the apartment given your day-off from school. Silence and a few movies on Netflix are your companions, except for the visit of your friendly neighborhood stray cat, Alpine, who climbs up to your windowsill every day without fail. Bucky is usually the one who feeds him, and mostly the one who’s unofficially adopted the kitten.

A pause here for a quick, improvised meal between homework, another pause there for a bath under glittery bath bombs.

Being away from him is normal.

His missions can last to mere hours to unexpected months. Living within the job is basically the norm, all with recruits training, team meetings and securing duties. Your classes are demanding, both physically and mentally. It never ends and never leaves you, always something to be started or done back home.

Either way, anxiousness never leaves you in a week like this.

Nearing a certain date on the calendar, Bucky’s plagued by restless nights.

It feels like a sore spot in his body, one he knows all about it but still can’t help but be upset at, poking and prodding around as a way to remember it. Despite knowing his best-friend way too well, Steve’s choice wasn’t one taken lightly back then.

The reasoning is fair and understandable but it doesn’t lessen the bitterness of a brief meeting after a six year long disappearance.

Not much can be done by now, but two years after Steve’s official death, Bucky still plays what ifs in his head. 

After gentle coaxing in between kisses in the night before and encouraging hugs and squeezes in the morning after, Bucky spends the whole day back at the compound, a scheduled therapy session set to the calendar of his phone.

When sunlight falls to a sheet of night stars, familiar but heavy steps sound like music to your  ears.

A random song playing through your laptop and slow beats welcome Bucky home.

It takes a single look at you until he’s sighing relieved, hauling your frame up to his arms in the middle of the small kitchen, where you both barely fit in during busy mornings with shoulder bumps and mumbled but playful complaints.

Sure it has been a pretty nostalgic day but nothing beats being right there.

“You smell good.” Bucky says, an almost shy mumble against your hair, his arms gently tightening around you. “Peach?”

The easy but definitely familiar guess makes you smile instantly. Heat rises on your cheeks, your chin rests on his chest as your eyes look for his own, very blue, very alive compared to a few hours back. Golden detailed fingertips brush your cheeks and a content hum escapes from your lips instantly.

“That bathbomb you gave me, remember?” You smile, voice sounding small and equally as shy until Bucky tips down, his lips meeting your own in a featherlike kiss that makes you sigh. “How are you feeling?”

Bucky smiles, crinkles forming in the corners of his eyes and then, the smooth sway starts. Finding rhythm with the slow beats still playing background, you can’t help but feel your chest lighter. In that moment, neither of you need to share words to know, he doesn’t need to tell you about his session for the feelings to sink.

Despite any doubt and above any insecurity, being right there feels just right.

It’s not his day and age. For a long time, he was nothing but a misplaced piece of the universe. Then without his best-friend, just an unknown face for the team to swallow.

Not anymore.

There was a time of misplacement and sure, he no longer has Steve on a back-up call but life has given him good things. Good people. Sam and Wanda. Love. You. And in that moment, after a long day of reflection, Bucky just feels thankful above any odd feeling.

“Feelin’ great.” He muses. It’s genuine and it makes your smile widen upon his accent slip, only cut short by Bucky’s lips briefly meeting yours again. “Thank you.”

Background music switching to an upbeat song and the shared slow, careful sway doesn’t change.

“What for?” You frown, wide eyes flicking between confusion and amusement through a quiet, huffed laugh. A beat until you look up through your eyelashes, and a sheepish shrug. “I haven’t done anything.”

Bucky bites back the reply—you’ve done everything and more, you’re everything—words for another time, other plans, a day with a better start. After all, he’s not going anywhere.

This is his place now.

And in the end of the day, that’s all it matters.

There’s a Saturday afternoon.

An array of long dresses and skirts mix-up with button-ups and printed ties on the bed, make-up and skin products all over the cabinet. The sun slowly lies down to a soft hue of orange that paints the bedroom space, and the off-beat singing coming from the bathroom makes you smile every now and then.

A coat of lipstick to the lips, mascara to the eyelashes. A well-placed hair pin to the side of your hair. Out of the bathroom Bucky gets, black suit and tie in place, not a wrinkle on sight to the white button-up shirt. The singing turns to a faint humming.

Short hair, trimmed beard. His blue eyes are alight. Positively beaming.

It’s just a few hours to go until the big event starts—Mr. and Mrs. Wilson anniversary, which they’re celebrating with one big ceremony to renew their vows with their children present. Bucky, much to Sam’s feigned dismay and Darlene Wilson’s stubborness, is now considered one of them.

In the very few opportunities you got to meet Darlene, she was nothing short of sweet to you and incredibly motherly to your boyfriend. Not much is needed to see how happy Bucky is to be participating in their day, and you can’t help but beam right back at him.

“Looking so handsome!” You grin, watching through the mirror as Bucky sits on the bed, shiny black shoes set on the floor. His lips are holding back a smirk. “I mean it, Bucky! This hair? I’m marrying you.”

At the words, Bucky looks up.

Between the Blip, his missions, your classes and whatnot, neither of you ever discussed the possibilities of a long-term future.

Have you both thought about it, though? Absolutely.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble.” Bucky sighs. Quickly settling into his shoes, a crooked smile curves up his mouth as he stands up, gentle fingers around your satin clad waist. “You’re so beautiful. I’m a lucky bastard, aren’t I?”

It feels like your brain instantly turns to mush over his words, and your tongue stumbles to find proper words to reply his sudden sweet outburst. Heat spreads through your neck and cheeks as you lean back against his chest, feeling Bucky’s arms wrap you completely with such warmth like home is supposed to feel.

Watching your reflections through the mirror, you can’t help but think how comforting the situation is, even if it can look silly to anybody else. How comforting is to see you with him, the changes, the little quirks that remain the same after a straight up mess.

How funny is it that you want to turn your little comment into reality?

How funny is it that Bucky wants that moment of certainty to freeze?

“You’ve got to help me with something.” You break the silence, smiling shyly before reaching out to the small jewelry box sitting on your make-up cabinet. A silver necklace with a studded little star is pulled out. “Please?”

Smart fingers wrap the necklace around your neck with ease, the touch of vibranium rising shivers to your skin as Bucky closes it with a little kiss pressed between your shoulder blades.

There’s that little moment of silence again until a sigh escapes from his lips, a beat of hesitancy rushing through his body before he’s fishing for the black box in his pocket. A box he’s been carrying for way too long now, just waiting for its buyer to build up the damn courage because that’s all it takes.

I mean it, Bucky! I’m marrying you.

“I’ve got something else for you to wear tonight.” Bucky says. Heart pounding violently through his chest, so much he thinks you might hear it, but voice sounding as light as ever under your curious eyes. “I—I’ve had it for a long time now. And I know it might not be the perfect moment but you just said you’d marry me.”

Turning around to face him, your mouth immediately falls open. Chest to chest, your eyes searching for his. And ss Bucky lifts the little velvet box and flips it open so, so easily with his metal thumb, your choked, disbelieved laugh fills the room.

The ring is beautiful.

No fancy stones, just a simple, silver band formed to wrap around a finger with its two ends meeting together on the top.

Both of you kept meeting each other over and over through accords, battles and sudden disappearances.

It’s meaningful enough to make your heart beat faster.

“You can’t be serious. Are you?” You ask dumbly, a silly smile soon growing on your lips as Bucky gives a playful glare. “You are. Holy shit, Bucky!”

“You aren’t sayin’ yes, baby doll.” Bucky jokes, starting to feel jittery with nerves despite a small grin. Under the anxiety and accent slip, he’s just loving to see how positively astonished you look. “I’m sweating under this suit and it won’t be good for—”

Red lips crash upon his in a rush, your fingers fisting the lapels of his suit so hard that Bucky almost stumbles on his feet, making him pull your body flush against his own. He’s sure your fingers are wrinkling his jacket just as much as his metal ones are wrinkling the delicate fabric of your dress. And your make-up, thank God, you’re wearing the smudge-proof lipstick.

There’s no time to breathe between quick, several pecks and a gasped but definitely excited reply.

“I am saying yes!”

There’s another Satuday afternoon.

A pair of booted feet walks through the tight hallway of the shoebox apartment, laughter completely filling the place as a pair of heeled feet bumps the wall in a funny noise.

The white sandals are a perfect match for the white mini dress, its hem flowing over very familiar thighs, showing a little too much because the position—or general space really, isn’t the best. Turns out that despite your skepticism, Bucky can carry you in bridal style through the cramped space. Even though, you can easily spot a stain in the back of his blazer because of a knocked vase. 

It doesn’t really matter.

As Bucky puts you down, your heels are kicked off and you immediately reach out to the memory board on the wall, pinning up a marriage certificate like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

When you turn around, Bucky is sitting by the edge of the bed just like one week ago, but now sans apprehension of an insecure man.

“We’re married!”

The gleeful tone of your words make him smile right away, pulling you closer with a gentle tug until you’re standing between his legs. Towering over him, your hands cup both of Bucky’s cheeks, thumbs brushing over the sharp, stubbly cheekbones. Your heart swells in your chest, happiness and love and calmness, because everything about the day really had been simple.

A city hall wedding with Sam, Wanda and Sam’s parents as witnesses, exactly a week after their own second wedding. Very simple and easy, as the decision of marrying each other had been.

“You’re officially a Barnes.” Bucky grins, hands brushing down the back of your thighs. Gentle fingertips under the hem of your dress, he silently urges you to sit on his lap. “Told ya, got me in trouble.”

“You say that as if you didn’t want to marry me.” You scoff playfully, wrapping your arms around his neck as settling down over him. “You can’t fool me. I totally noticed you were nervous back there.”

Not bothering to deny your words, Bucky shrugs. Even though he was nervous, it doesn’t really matter. Wrapped up in each other, surrounded by the quietness of the apartment, all he cares about is you.

A little kiss pressed to your neck.

“Well, you’d be nervous too if you were marryin’ the prettiest girl in the world.”

A laugh and a little kiss pressed to his nose.

“Well, I was nervous marrying the prettiest boy in the world.”

And then—Bucky’s lips are meeting yours in a soft kiss that swallows a sigh, hands steady and gentle around your waist as he dips down to the bed under your body. It feels like you’re both back at the ceremony again, high on your love and completely unaware of everything that isn’t each other. And he kisses you once, twice, three, four times.

Just enough to ground him, to remind him that this is what his life came to.

Don’t they say that after a storm, there’s always calm?

Yeah, well. This little shoebox apartment in the heart of Brooklyn.

This might be just it.

[98prilla]

Changing Tides

Next

Previous

AO3

...

“What is taking so long?” Roman muttered, tail flicking the water impatiently.

           “Look.” Logan replied, pointing up the hill. Two small figures were making their way down the slope. One was the easily recognizable form of Patton. The other was slouched, hands deep in pockets, following after Patton a little hesitantly as they reached the pebbly beach.

           “Hey guys! So, Virgil, officially meet Logan and Roman!” Patton exclaimed, pointing to the two mermen in turn. Virgil’s eyes flicked up, quickly taking in the two of them before looking back down at the ground.

           “Heya.” He gave a little salute, leaning against the rocky outcrop that ran around the beach.

           “Well, I’m just gonna slide this on and get in the water. Don’t mind me.” Patton said, slipping easily into his seal skin. Virgil watched wide eyed as he instantly morphed into the form of a seal. It gave a little bark, then hopped the few feet to the water and glided away, splashing playfully as he went.

           “woah. That was wild.” Virgil commented, eyes still fixed on where the seal vanished into the water.  

           “So, everything healed fine? Nothing sore or aching? Nothing wrong?” Logan asked, looking over Virgil carefully for any sign of injury.

           “Yup.” He popped the p, rubbing the back of his head. “thanks, by the way. For rescuing me, I guess. For… for helping. I can’t imagine it’s safe for you, being around boats and stuff.”

           “Yes, well, some of us can’t resist showing off. You’re just lucky he happened to be nearby.” Logan replied, pointedly looking at Roman, who rolled his eyes.

           “So overdramatic, Logan. That’s supposed to be my department. I’ve been around longer than you, and I haven’t been found out yet!” The mer argued, though it was clear they’d had this fight before and never resolved anything.

           “I’m going to go catch up with Patton. If you’ll excuse me,” without waiting for an answer, Logan flicked his tail and was gone.

         “Sorry about him. Not much of a social person, he’d rather be cooped up in his cave all day studying. Sometimes it’s like grabbing a jelly fish by the stingers, trying to get him out into some open ocean.” Roman commented, looking the kid up and down, frowning slightly.

           “Your hair wasn’t purple before, was it? It looks good, don’t get me wrong, but-“

           “Yeah. Yeah it’s purple now, for some reason. I don’t know why or how so…” The kid trailed off, kicking a pebble.

            “Easy there bud, didn’t know it was a touchy subject.” Roman replied, hands up in surrender. Virgil sighed.

           “sorry. It’s just… just been a lot.”

           “I’d imagine. Mermen, selkies, magic, most humans couldn’t handle it.” Virgil shrugged.

           “Is it so hard to imagine? I mean, there’s tons of the ocean we haven’t explored yet. Of course there’s going to be stuff we don’t know about. Like, I don’t know, giant squids were just legend until the 1920s. And you guys are clearly smart, so you can hide from divers or whoever.” Virgil replied animatedly, gesturing with one hand to help make his points.

           “Obviously. It’s just most humans think they’re the smartest things around, and if they haven’t conquered something or discovered something by now, it doesn’t exist. A load of arrogant pricks, most of the time.” He muttered, flushing as he realized what he’d said. “Not that you are, I mean, you seem fine, for a human, not that you being a human makes it not fine, I mean-“ He cut himself off before anything else could escape from his mouth, noting with some satisfaction that at least the human was grinning now, clearly having found his stumble amusing.

           “I’m the last one who’ll argue against humans being pricks, I can promise you that much.” He replied, smile fading a bit as something flashed across his eyes, a memory of something. He sat down, leaning back against the crag, looking up into Roman’s face for the first time since they’d started talking. “its not like they’ve ever done anything for me.” His voice was bitter, and he bit his lip as he idly grabbed a stone, running his thumb over its uneven edges to keep himself grounded.

 “I’m sorry.”

 “Why? Not like any of it is your fault. Should blame my mom, I suppose, for leaving and not taking me, too. But what's the point? He was a scumbag before she left, too. If she got out, good for her. Probably knew I’d just weigh her down.” Roman winced at the dullness seeping into Virgil's voice, the pain he tried to hide in his clouded eyes. Then Virgil stood, hurling the rock as far as he could, letting out a long breath, before wiping his eyes, turning back to Roman.

 “So. What do you do? I mean, Logan heals, Patton turns into a seal, sooooo what’s your thing?” He elaborated, at Roman's confused stare. Roman blushed, tail flicking the water uncertainly.

 “Don't freak out. I’m a siren.” Virgil stared at him for a long moment, before he stifled a snicker.

 “Aren't sirens supposed to be all ‘oh look, I’m so beautiful, come swim with me, sexy sailor', not… giant whale tail?” Roman gasped in indignation, flopping onto his back on the beach, hand flung dramatically over his face.

 “So ignorant! I have been slain by your words, young human! My pride is forever destroyed!” Virgil covered his mouth with his hand as he laughed at the merman's dramatics, standing so he was leaning over Roman's face.

 “… whoops?” It was Roman's turn to laugh at the bright smile across the human's face, his smirk infectious as he began to giggle again, flopping to sit down in the sand next to Roman. He shifted so he was on his stomach, hands under his chin, tail idly splashing the water.

 “Siren songs are what lure sailors close. And it’s not always sex" Roman wrinkled his nose, getting another snort from Virgil, “it’s whatever the human wants most. And our song only affects humans when we sing specifically to lure them in. Usually it’s harmless. Still, I don’t sing when there’s anyone around. Don’t want to risk it, mostly." Virgil bit his lip, thinking it over.

 “You… you weren’t singing this morning, were you?” Roman shook his head immediately.

 “No. Especially not near the island, now that you’re here. Why?” He shrugged.

 “I… had a weird dream, I guess. It was like… like the ocean, was singing to me. Trying to lead me somewhere, show me something. It sounds crazy now, I guess. But I thought your singing coulda caused it?” Roman squinted in thought, tapping his chin.

 “wasn’t me. And no other sirens are nearby, either. Could have been just a dream, I suppose.” Virgil's shoulders hunched a bit higher as he sighed, looking out at the waves.

 “that's when this changed.” He commented, indicating his eyes and hair. Roman’s eyes narrowed further.

 “well it definitely meant something, then. Logan might have an idea. He’s spent pretty much his whole life studying different beings, like us.”

 “Wait, wait, wait. Hold on. How many are there? Different beings I mean. Are we talking other mer people, or like, sea serpents? Kraken? IS THE LOCH NESS MONSTER REAL!?” Virgil asked excitedly, jumping to his feet, eyes wide.

 “Please. Nessie is a hoax perpetrated by a bored human who took pictures of a log.” Logan scoffed, head appearing above the water, settling on a rock in the surf. “sea serpents on the other hand, are real, and, contrary to human lore, quite timid and friendly.” Roman groaned, Virgil practically bouncing up down.

 “ohmygod cryptids are REAL!” He exclaimed giddily, fist pumping the air.

 “Um, did we not count? Cause, literal merman, in front of your face. But sure, get excited about some sea snakes, or whatever.” Roman pouted, making Virgil laugh.

 “yeah, yeah, you’re a pretty fish man, now shut up, Logan was about to tell me everything.” Roman squawked in offense, Logan looking a bit flushed at the sudden intense attention directed his way by the young, very enthusiastic, human. Still, he wasn’t one to pass up giving a lecture, and soon Virgil was wide eyed and completely enthralled by Logan, raising his hand when he had a question, Logan answering each one patiently, his own enthusiasm growing as Virgil soaked up every word.

 “well. Glad to see the both of them loosening up.” Roman jumped at the voice beside him, splashing Logan and Virgil with a face full of water, Patton devolving into giggles at their water logged expressions of annoyance and shock.

 “Sorry, kiddos!” Virgil groaned, pushing his wet hair back out of his eyes, though his lips still hinted at a smile.

 “It’s fine, Patton. You would think given his size, he would be less of a scaredey cat.” Roman huffed, sitting up and crossing his arms.

 “You’d think given your size you wouldn’t be so rude, and yet you hold enough attitude for the both of us!” Logan raised an eyebrow.

 “Alright, alright, enough arguing, guys.” Patton cut in.

 “He started it.” Roman grumbled, making Virgil smirk.

 “I don’t care who started it, I’m finishing it.”

 “Fiiine. I suppose I should be off, anyways. Need to spend a lot of time looking for food, comes with the size.” Roman explained to Virgil.

 “And I have sea creatures to check on. No supernatural beings, just normal ones.” Logan added, sensing the question on the tip of Virgil’s tongue.

 “Well, stop by again soon, guys! I should get your new books in any day now, so you have to come back now.” Patton teased, smiling as Logan waved, Roman flashing a grin, before slipping back beneath the waves, as if they’d never even been there.

 “Wait, how do you get books out here? Or food? Or… anything?” Virgil asked, following Patton back up the hill.

 “Oh, I have an arrangement with a captain of a boat from the mainland. He brings supplies and anything else I request, if he can get it, once a week. I pay him for the items and his time. He’s a fae, so he doesn’t care much about the odd goings on around here, and he knows better than to touch my coat.” That made Virgil shake his head, because why not add fae to the list of stuff that’s real?

 “should… I be worried about him?” Virgil asked, trying to keep his voice from rising an octave at his nervousness, pulling at his sweater sleeves.

 “Oh, no, you’ll be fine. If you’re nervous, just stick close to me, kiddo. I won’t let anything happen. I think he’s a bit lonely, honestly. Not many people around who he can really talk to, and fae don’t exactly trust each other.” Patton waved away his concern, and he bit his lip, thinking, unconsciously hunching in on himself as they reached the door, and he curled his legs under him on the chair near the fireplace.

 Why was it so… easy? It had never been easy, nothing in his life was easy, yet trusting Patton, believing Patton when he said nothing would happen, was so easy it was terrifying.

 Nothing good, happened to him. Nothing right, or happy, or positive ever happened to him. So why was Patton here, why was Roman, why was Logan? What had he done, to deserve to be found by them? He’d given up. He didn’t deserve a second chance, not when he’d chosen to give up, like the coward he was.

 “Virgil?” He flinched back, realizing he’d bit his lip so hard it was bleeding, trying to ignore the sting of tears pricking his eyes. He pressed his lips together into a hard line, trying to hold back the ache that suddenly tore at his chest and made him want to scream. Because he wasn’t worth that soft concern. He shouldn’t be here right now. It should be some other kid, who’d had it way worse than being hit, tossed around every now and again, not him, pathetic, little, useless, him.  

 “i don’t deserve this.” He whispered, looking down. “I don’t deserve to be here, to be… happy, here.” He felt Patton slowly come around the front of the chair, kneeling so they were eye to eye.

 “Why do you think that, kiddo?” Virgil swallowed hard, shaking his head.

 “I’m bad. I… ruin everything. I never do anything right. I’m a coward. So many people have it so much worse, and handle it all so much better, I-"

 “hey. You’re not bad, alright? I know it’s hard to believe, but you didn’t deserve any of the pain or hurt your father put you through. And you’ve been plenty brave, taking all this weirdness in stride. You were plenty brave when Roman rescued you, from falling over board.” Virgil winced and pulled back further into the chair, a desperate laugh bubbling up from his throat.

 “Brave? That wasn’t brave! He didn't rescue me, he stopped me! I’m not some cast away, Patton, I didn’t fall over board! I jumped! I jumped, okay?!” Patton drew back just slightly at that, eyes wide, and he wanted to stop before the selkie saw how pathetic he really was, but he couldn’t force the words back, now that they were coiling his throat. “I couldn’t take it anymore, I couldn’t get out any other way, I’d tried and it was hopeless and nobody would have even noticed, so what would it matter? What’s the point, if no one even cares to notice!? So why not?! Drowning's supposed to be peaceful anyway, once the body stops fighting it. Just drifting away. Sounded better… better than living with him for a single more day.” He gasped in a heaving breath, eyes wide as he looked through Patton, deflating almost as quick as his anger had risen. “I’m not good. How can someone who would do that ever be good? I tried to kill myself, Patton. I wanted… I wanted to die. How pathetic is that? How… how useless, right? I can’t do anything right, can’t even die without fucking it up. All I had to do was drown, and I couldn’t even manage that.” He said hoarsely, swiping at his eyes.

 “Oh, kiddo.” Patton murmured, trying to reach out, but Virgil shrank back, an almost feral hiss escaping him, as he lunged, shoving past Patton and throwing open the door.

 His world was spinning, tilting, and he needed out, needed air, needed to be alone, because he couldn’t let anyone see him fall apart, or he’d be hurt again, hit or kicked or grabbed and slammed against the wall for being a weak, no good waste of space, who was lucky he could haul a rope or he wouldn’t even bother to feed him, every once in a while. It didn’t bother him that they were scraps from the table, that he was treated like some unruly stray dog, that needed to have its lessons beat into its too thick skull, its what he deserved, after all, if he’d been better it wouldn’t have to happen, if he’d been better he’d have managed to run away properly, if he’d been better his mother would have taken him with her, if he’d been better he would have done everyone a favor and never existed at all.

  He wanted to scream, to rage, to rip at his hair, to claw his own skin to shreds, he wanted to bite his tongue until he choked on the copper, he wanted to stop, to stop feeling, stop caring, stop hurting, and he barely realized he'd stopped breathing before his vision went black and he crashed to the ground.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Pinky Promise: Three

"Whatcha doin', squirt?" Bucky asked, leaning on the door frame of Sierra's bedroom. The little spitfire had apparently made herself a fort. And put all her books in it. And her stuffed animals. And was prepared to not come out.

A wordless little shrug as she snuggled farther into Clint's hoodie damn near broke his heart. He walked in slowly and sat just outside, sitting cross-legged on the tie-dye rug Clint had put on your floor for her. "He'll be okay, you know," Bucky said quietly, holding his arms out for her to climb into them. But when she doesn't, he doesn't take it personally. Clint had been right. She was a lot like a cat. Sierra liked to be cuddled but only on her terms. Which was fair.

"Promise?" she asks, looking up at him.

He nodded and smiled a little. It had been three days. Three days of trying to keep her occupied like he'd been told to. And it had had the unintended benefit of keeping him occupied too. But, like most things with Sierra, still, waters ran deep. And it didn't matter how many games they played or things Bucky let her do, the worry was still there. Just under the surface.

"Bruce says he's got a recipe he wants to try," Bucky tried, anxious to get her out of the fort and doing something. "Says he needs his expert helper since Tony keeps messin' around."

She looks up at him, and for just a second look so much like Clint, his heart twists unpleasantly. Big baby blue eyes regard him steadily. It makes him feel exposed. "C'mon, Squirt," he coaxes, "Let's go make some brownies, huh?" Sierra loves brownies. Not cake. Not cupcakes. Not cookies. Brownies. So when she shakes her head and clutches her fairy tale book closer to her chest, Bucky's at a loss. 

"What'cha readin'," he tries. She hands him the book carefully. It's fragile. Held together with tape and a prayer. Bucky knows this book. Clint told him her mom had found it for her in a second-hand store. It went with her everywhere. A rectangular security blanket. No matter how smart she got or how easy the book got for her to read. It had bedtime stories in it. Bucky whistled softly, carefully thumbing through pages, "This one's seen better days, huh?" he said, "Maybe we can sweet talk your dad into getting you a new one when he gets home."

The soft distressed sound that the little girl makes, makes him wince internally. It wasn't the thing that was important to her. It was what the thing represented. A new one wouldn't be right. 

"Well, maybe," he tries, "You can sweet talk him into a new book about bones." Bones were the new obsession. Pre-human ancestors. Darwin. Why? Who knew. Sierra just kinda fell down rabbit holes. A line in a book leads to another fact. Lead to another question. Lead to another book. Rinse and repeat until she knew how castles were built or cats were mummified. 

Sierra doesn't answer, but he knows she's listening. She's too still to not be. She wants to be comforted, but Bucky's still too new for cuddles or feelings. Clint or Nat. She'll climb on them with no problems. They get the fears and anxieties. Bucky gets guarded stares. Not afraid, Clint insists. Just cautious. He'd explained once that Eve tended to serial date and "new" people didn't manage to be around long. 

"Snow White," Bucky read, smiling a little, "My little sister loved that story." Blue eyes regarded him curiously, and he laughed softly, "Did you know that's the first movie I ever saw in a theater? We took my sister Becky for her 7th Birthday. That would have been-" He trailed off, struggling to remember the date. At least the year.

"1938," Sierra supplied, rubbing her eyes with her sleeve. 

"Yeah," Bucky said, giving her a crooked smile, "It was my favorite movie for a long time." He doesn't have to ask how she knew that. She'd probably read it somewhere, and it just stuck in her head. That happened. A lot. 

"I have that movie," she said helpfully.

"Wanna watch with me?" he offered, "I haven't seen it in... Well. A long time." He and Clint both agreed some things Sierra was too little to know. She knew he was old. Like a hundred. But not how he got there. And that was enough. At least until she was old enough to understand. 

"Can Elsie watch too?" she asks.

The dog. Her stuffed dog, he recalls after half a second. He wants to ask why it matters, but. Eight. Eight years old. More importantly, Scared Eight year old. That thought rings in first. "Can she stay quiet?" he teases.

A nod later, and Sierra disappears into her fort, wiggling out under her bed. Bucky sets the book down carefully and stands up, going to find some extra pillows for the couch. And maybe some popcorn and drinks. 

He looks up when Sierra comes out of her room. Her blanket, her dog, and the movie bundled in her arms. "Ready?" he asks, smiling a little. She nods and climbs onto the couch, wrapping herself up in her blanket. A tiny nest to replace the big one she had in her fort. 

Bucky puts the movie in and props his feet on the table. He doesn’t expect Sierra to come and cuddle into his side, but when she does, he brushes a kiss against her hair, “Sleepy?” he asked quietly.

She nods, and Bucky smiles a little, “Me too,” he said, “It’s not the same without your dad here, is it?”

“He’s okay, right?” a scared little voice murmurs, hidden in the blanket.

“No news is good news, Squirt,” he says softly. “He’s gonna be fine, okay? He’ll be back and tucking you into bed before you know it, okay?”

Things are quiet for a long time. Snow White whistling while she works as the tv cast a soft glow over the room. Bucky watches the reflection in her glasses. Big blue eyes only distantly watching the dancing characters. 

“Bucky?” she murmurs, tucking herself closer. 

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you’re here. Dad really loves you.” It’s said quietly. Bluntly. With the honesty inherent in little kids. And somehow, it’s the sweetest thing anyone has said to him in a long time. The Sierra stamp of approval was something he hadn’t realized he wanted. Not until he had it. 

“I’m glad I’m here too,” he said, stroking her hair. “Never figured I’d have a family... I even got a punk kid in the deal.” He smiles down at her as she crinkles her nose at him, “I still say you cheat at scrabble.”

“You speak four languages,” she protests, “It’s not my fault you forgot ‘Juxtaposition’ was a word.”

“I want a rematch,” he says, stretching lazily.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Bucky.”

“Weirdo,” he teases gently, handing her the popcorn bowl.

“I mean... My dad grew up in the circus, and my aunt is a spy.” she points out.

“Fair point,” he says, chuckling, “At least you won’t grow up to be boring.”

[pandawritespoorly]

With Time: Chapter 39 - A General Upward Trend

Author’s Note: Ladybug finally has a talk with her former teammates, and Marinette gets around to finishing something she's been putting off.

Chapter Summary: Ladybug and Chat Noir's interactions in this chapter are very precious. Like, they're real cute. Prepare yourself. No warnings! This is a calm chapter. It's so weird to say, but there's only three left after this one, and chapter 42 is just an epilogue, so this story is well and truly wrapping up. Goodness.

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Adrien is doing better. Marinette smiles at him, happy to see him resting happily. He’s basically recovered at this point, but she’d insisted he rest a little more, and being the cat he is, he didn’t protest.

She glances out the window and sighs. It’s no longer light enough out that she can justify waiting. It’s most certainly dark enough that Ladybug could go out without issue.

“Tikki, spots on.”

As quietly as she can, she creeps past the model and heads out through the balcony.

Whizzing through the city on her yo-yo, she gets to her first destination.

The window opens when she knocks.

“L-Ladybug?” Nino looks surprised to see her.

“Hello. I’m… I’m here to apologize. Last time I visited, I dropped some very shocking news on you with no explanation. I’m willing to explain myself now, especially since I believe you’ll be more receptive to what I have to say.”

“Oh. Yeah, uh, Dudette, I definitely figured it out.” He looks away.

She forces a gentle smile. “I understand, but I feel like you still deserve to hear a proper explanation from me, and the opportunity to ask any questions you might have.”

He nods, still not meeting her eyes.

“Due to the high rate of akumas at your school, Chat and I keep tabs on it. We… became aware of a situation with Ms. Dupain-Cheng and Ms. Rossi. After a few months of you and Alya both only further bullying Ms. Dupain-Cheng, I came to the realization that if I couldn’t trust you two to treat your friends well, I couldn’t trust you to be a good member of the team. Nino, you wielded the miraculous of protection, and you not only failed to protect your friend, you went out of your way to harm her. I could not let you continue to be Carapace.”

Tears have welled up in his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you let me know so I could fix things?”

She sighs, doing her best to keep herself together. “I had already spoken directly to Adrien, and soon learned Marinette had been a witness to that conversation. Two of your close friends told you that Lila was lying, and you dismissed them. You made no effort to track me down for confirmation. You also immediately turned on me the day after I informed you of Carapace’s retirement. You refused to accept that you could have done something wrong and blamed an innocent girl so that you had someone to take it out on. You were given chances, and it shouldn’t have been up to me to let you know you were in the wrong. You ignored the signs, and that’s on you.”

He removes his glasses, wiping at his eyes with his forearm. “Y-yeah. I know. A-after what I did to M-M-Marinette…”

“Is there anything else you want to know?”

He shakes his head, returning inside.

Ladybug takes a few breaths to steady herself. That was more emotionally exhausting than she thought it would be.

One down. One to go.

It’s barely night, and it’s already a long one.

She goes to the roof, intending to get on her way to Alya’s when a dark figure catches her eye.

Chat Noir stands on the roof, arms crossed and looking at her, eyebrows raised.

“Ladybug. You did not specifically wait until I was asleep to sneak out and confront your former bullies alone again, did you?”

“Uh, well, when you phrase it like that…”

He sags, approaching her, face softening. “Bug. I told you, you don’t need to need to do this alone. You can have support.”

“I just didn’t want to bother you, and you need rest anyways, and-”

“Bug. Look at me.” He walks up to her, taking both of her hands in his. He leans down, touching his forehead to hers. He looks at her eyes for a moment. “I will say this as many times as it takes, but no matter what it is, no matter who it is - no matter what, if it is important to you, it’s important to me. If something’s bothering you, you can tell me. If you aren’t feeling well, mentally or physically, you can tell me. You matter, you’re important, and you are not alone.”

Her breath hitches, and a few tears show up in her bright blue eyes.

“Do you understand me, Mari?”

She nods, separating their hands to wrap her arms around him, burying her face in his chest, squeezing him tightly.

He holds her, kissing her hair. “I love you, Bug, I just want you to realize how important you are.”

“I love you too,” she sobs, voice cracking slightly.

She lets a few tears fall, then regains her composure.

“Alya next?” Chat asks.

She nods, and he follows her to the ex-reporter’s house. He sits on the roof, waiting for her as she goes to Alya.

“Alya?”

The girl whips around at her hero’s voice. Her eyes well up immediately. “Ladybug. I- I’m so sorry.”

“So am I. I’m here to apologize for how I broke the news to you in November-”

Alya shakes her head. “I don’t deserve an apology. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.”

“No, Alya, it was perfectly understandable. You deserved an explanation and that’s what I’m here to give you, even if it’s a little late. You deserve to have your questions answered. Chat and I keep an eye on your school, because so many students and faculty members have been akumatized there. We became aware of the treatment of Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and the role you played in that. You and Nino needed to be heroes with and without the miraculouses, and you didn’t do that. If anything, you were villains. It wasn’t my job to point things out, especially after I’d already outed Lila to two of your close friends. As the Fox, you had the power of illusions. You should have been able to see through the very clear lies that Ms. Rossi was spewing, and as a friend, you should have stuck-” Ladybug stops. Alya is sniffling and tears are streaming down her face endlessly. Her face falls. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to rub salt in the wound-”

“N-no I-I-I d-d-de-deserve it.”

“No. No you don’t.” Ladybug puts a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You were a victim of Lila. That doesn’t excuse your actions, but you shouldn’t beat yourself up over it.”

Alya clearly isn’t having it, so Ladybug tries to change the topic. “Is there anything you want to ask me?”

After a minute or two, Alya calms enough to mumble, “W-wh-why d-didn’t y-you t-t-t-tell th-this me b-before? Wh-why w-w-wait to e-explain-n-n?”

Ladybug sighs, staring at the sky. “I… I wasn’t doing very well late last year. I’d… lost some people that were very important to me, and I was having a rough time. I didn’t want to lose Carapace and Rena Rouge too, but I knew I had to let you guys go. I put it off for a while, but I was starting to slow down from the cold and I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer. I’m sorry about how I went about that.”

“Oh,” She sobs, “and I yelled at you. I’m so so sorry!”

“I- It’s fine. I didn’t really do the best job at explaining it to you.”

“Still.” Alya hiccups a few more times, trying to get her emotions under control. “I-I think you sh-should go home. You should r-rest. You sh-shouldn’t have t-to be up l-late because of m-me.”

Ladybug smiles at her a little, then nods, wishing her a goodnight and heading to the roof. Chat is waiting for her with open arms, and she collapses against him, shaking.

“It’s okay Bugaboo, it’s okay.”

“I- I just- I th-thought I w-was o-over all- all of this.”

“It’ll take more time than this. No one is expecting you to be all healed by now.”

She doesn’t respond initially, then she whispers, “Ladybug is supposed to be strong.”

“Oh Princess. You are strong, I promise you that.” He holds her face, wiping away a tear with a thumb. “You just have a hard time appreciating yourself.”

The soft smile she gives him makes him wonder, not for the first time, why he’s the sunshine child. Everything about her is blinding in the best possible way.

“Kitty, what would I do without you?”

He scoops her up. “Well, fur one, you’d have to get home on your own.”

She kicks. “Hey! You’re sick, you shouldn’t be patrolling, let alone carrying me!”

“Paw-lease, I’m mostly recovered and we both know it. You’ve been keeping an eye on me, so it’s time for me to return the favor. Now I get to take care of you!”

“What do you call most of this school year then?”

“Being your friend. Obviously.” He rolls his eyes, as though it was ridiculous that she even had to ask.

Before she can protest further, he takes off across the rooftops. He lands on her terrace, and sets her down. He bows. “I do hope you enjoyed your cat-xi ride, mademoiselle.”

She gives him an odd look, and murmurs to herself, “...catzee…?” A look of realization dawns on her face, and she punches his arm. “That was really bad, Chaton. It’s not even a taxi ride, because I didn’t pay you.”

“Your prrr-sence is enough,” he says, kissing her hand.

She blushes, but pushes his forehead back with her index finger. “That’s enough from you.”

“Claws in. Guess it’s Adrien’s turn then.”

“No, no cheesy pick up lines from you.” She turns away, finally entering her room.

Pouting, he follows her. “But cheesy pick up lines are the best,” he whines, sitting on her chaise, across from where she sits at her desk chair.

She raises an eyebrow, then grows concerned at the cheshire grin on his face. Before she can ask what he’s up to, he starts to talk.

“I can make do without pick up lines, beautiful.”

She turns a little pink, and decides to pretend to focus on designing. He rolls around on the chaise, laying on his back but facing her.

“Hey. Hey. Marinette. Heyyyyy, Mariiiiiii! You’re really pretty, and you’re so nice, and you’re super smart, because, like, you always come up with the best plans all the time, and your eyes are absolutely stunning, and you are such a good person and-” He glances at her, and her face is about the same color as Tikki. “Maybe I should stop, I’m worried about all your blood going to your face.”

Adrien hangs off the lounge, looking at her upside-down. He waits until her face begins to cool off, then he adds, “Not that you don’t look good in red, of course.”

She squeaks, and her face goes crimson again.

---

Patisserie Princess: so um

Patisserie Princess: i think im gonna go through all my old stuff finally

Patisserie Princess: so if you guys want to come over and help then yeah

 The Mom Friend: omw

 Melodie: I’m close already, so I’ll be there quick.

 Kid Mime: im on ur roof

 Felix: I will head over.

 Patisserie Princess: thanks

Patisserie Princess: wait wat

 The Mom Friend: the roof roof or the balcony roof

The Mom Friend: coz 1 of those is v dangerous

 Kid Mime: balcony roof

 Melodie: Okay.

 Patisserie Princess: how and why????

 Hug This Boy: Because Claude.

Hug This Boy: There is no logic where there is Claude.

 The Mom Friend: yep

 Patisserie Princess: but on my roof???

 Felix: I found them clinging to the outside of my window once.

 Kid Mime: that was fun

Kid Mime: mari is it good for me to come in now

Kid Mime: ur flowers r pretty but ur prettierrrrrrrrr!!!

 Patisserie Princess: yes u can come in

 Once Marinette sends that, she hears her trapdoor open and turns to see Claude landing on her bed, smiling wide.

“You really were on my roof.”

They grin more. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“Well yeah, but my roof? How did you even-”

“Mari!” Claude gasps. “You should know that a magician never reveals their secrets!”

Adrien comes up through the trapdoor, bearing a tray of cookies. “Hey Claude. Cookie?”

“Yes!”

Marinette just blinks, still trying to figure this out.

 Kid Mime: haha

Kid Mime: i got the first cookie

 Melodie: Because you were on the roof.

Melodie: For who knows what reasons.

 The Mom Friend: 4 claude reasons obviously

 Kid Mime: see? mom gets me

 Felix: No one truly understands you, if we are all being honest.

 Patisserie Princess: yea im still confused

 Melodie: Honey, by now I would have thought you’d know not to dwell on the how.

 Kid Mime: ive been told i cause headaches

 The Mom Friend: and heart attacks

 Felix: Marinette, it would be for the best if you did not spend an excessive amount of time attempting to comprehend him.

Felix: He is Claude, and that is the best explanation we will ever truly get.

 Patisserie Princess: i suppose

 Melodie: I’m here!

 Kid Mime: thats great

 Melodie: …

Melodie: Don’t let Claude finish off the cookies.

 Kid Mime: wat wood make u think id do that

 Patisserie Princess: he just stuffed three in his mouth

Patisserie Princess: u may want to hurry

---

When they’ve all arrived, Marinette retrieves the stuff from last time when they’d sorted. Marinette looks over the piles, trying to decide what to do. The others wait patiently.

“Okay, I think I’ll keep all the pictures. This is basically my entire childhood, and I’m not going to let what happened taint my past. Especially a lot of these early ones.” She looks over a few photos, finding some with especially young versions of the classmates. “I’m not going to blame four year old Nino for what present Nino did.”

“We can help you find a photo album for all these sometime then.”

She nods gratefully.

“Paper then… uh, if it’s just schoolwork, we can recycle it. Unless it’s some big project or you think I might want it, then I can look over it. Um. Designs can stay. I’ll look over cards…” She continues to list off what can happen to anything they might find in the mess. “Anything else, you can just leave to me.”

So they get started, and the pile of things getting thrown out or recycled grows and grows. It’s not nearly as tense or sad of an atmosphere as it had been last time, instead, they talk and joke as they would any normal day. Sometimes Marinette grows quiet, looking at something in her hands with an expression that doesn’t fall into any singular category.

Glee and anguish are usually considered opposites.

The mess of pining, fear, nostalgia, grief, and an unending amount of other emotions on her face is almost physically painful to see.

If she seems okay, they’ll keep talking, letting her feel in peace. Other times, she’s clearly struggling, so one of them will touch her softly, or hug her gently, pulling her from the past back to the present.

She laughs plenty too. This time around is clearly easier for her, and her progress is undeniable.

It’s good to see her good.

---

Author’s Note: I told you they were precious. I told you! How does it feel knowing that the angst in this story is basically over? You've got mostly fluff and sweetness until the end. Sure, I'll be getting those extra one-shots up eventually, so those will have salt, guilt, etc, but the next chapters? Smooth sailing, my friends.

Speaking of sailing, yes, our ships will be sailing by the time this is fully posted. No worries, we'll get a kiss, it's already written and everything.

I keep realizing I'm not really doing anything productive, and I'm like 'Oh! I'll just work on With Time!'. Nope! Can't do that anymore, so I'm finally getting around to those one-shots I've been promising. I'm sure some of you stalk the comments, do any of you remember anything I mentioned getting around to write that took place in the main story but didn't get into a chapter? If you don't that's fine. If you think of anything you want to see, regardless of if I've mentioned it before, just let me know. I'm finally starting a legitimate list. So far, I have Tikki and Plagg talking after the reveal (low priority), Alya and Nino's respective apologies to Adrien, and Gabriel and Nathalie realized they screwed up after the GoodFriends™ launched their whole thing last chapter. Anything else?

Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave any thoughts, theories, constructive criticism, or anything really in my ask box, in replies or through reblogs. I love seeing what you think!

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[gingerwritess]

How about Elliot asking for a sibling? And Loki is all cocky "What do you think dear?" Obviously sexual innuendos throughout. 😂😂

sorryyyyyy i left again. have some family fluff. i missed dad!loki and elliot our son gahhhh and this is kind of big in the progression of our lil family ;))

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

“I’m lonely…” Elliot sighs, throwing his arms around your knees and dropping his head against the back of your legs. “I’m lonely, mom. When’s dad gonna be home?”

“Any minute now, hopefully. Do you want to invite a friend over tomorrow?” You reach behind you and lightly tap the top of his head with your oven mitt.

He groans and hits his head against your legs. “Nooo…Dad’s my only friend.”

“What?! What about me?”

“Nah. You’re my mom.” Elliot sighs again, dramatic and just like his goddamn father when he’s craving attention. “That’s like…better than a friend.”

Good save, buster.

Turning off the fire under the bubbling pot on the stove, you turn around and kneel down to eye level with the little boy. “You have other friends, kiddo,” you assure him with a smile. “What about James? And Oliver? Oh, and Morgan?”

“Ew, no.” He blanches and shakes his head. “Morgan’s not my friend, she has cooties.”

“That’s funny. Your mother had cooties, too.”

“DADDY!!”

Elliot jumps up and runs over to where Loki is leaning in the doorway with a soft smile on his face—and with what appears to be the remains of a birds nest in his mess of hair.

“What happened to you?” You laugh and follow Elliot over to him, slinging an arm around Loki’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss.

“Well…you know how you joke about us Avengers ‘saving cats from trees’ and such?” He grimaces and bends down to pick up Elliot, swinging him into his arms with a groan. “You’re getting too big for this, Elli.”

“That’s not my name,” the kid giggles, throwing his arms around Loki’s neck. “It’s E-double-L-I-O-T. Need me to spell it slower?”

“Watch it, you little silvertongue.”

Elliot just sticks out his tongue and laughs.

Rolling his eyes at the little smart-mouth in his arms, Loki waves a tired hand at his hair and makes a cat-like hissing noise at Elliot. “Anyways…guess who’s now just the friendly neighbourhood Avenger.”

“You’re kidding,” you laugh and drag him over to the sink, picking leaves out of his hair with Elliot’s help. “Well, screw that, you’ll always be a king to us.”

He chuckles tiredly, dropping the squirming kid in his arms to the floor. “Stark swore it would never happen again…he clearly just wanted to laugh at me—Elliot, what?”

Ignoring the story his dad is trying to tell, Elliot’s busy poking Loki in the thigh with one little finger, over and over and over until he gets his attention. “Come play with me. Please?”

Loki pauses for a minute and glances from his son to you, opening his mouth to say something and shutting it right after. “Would you mind giving your mother and I just a few more seconds before stealing me for the night? Don’t worry,” he quickly adds when Elliot’s face falls, “I know I’m a precious commodity. Five more minutes and I’m all yours.”

“Fine,” Elliot huffs, his shoulders dropping as he sulks out of the little kitchen, head hanging to his chest and dragging his feet. “Five minutes, dad! I’m timing you!”

Loki narrows his eyes and shoots his retreating son a strange look; “You don’t know how to tell time yet, Elliot.”

“I’ll figure it out! M’still timing you!”

“Little monster.” Loki shakes his head and turns back to you, an amused smile playing at his lips.

“I wonder who he gets that from…” you wind your arms around his neck, gently swaying side to side.

“Certainly not me.”

“Right. Cause you’re just a perfect little angel.”

He chuckles and pecks a quick bite of a kiss on your lips, gently squeezing your waist. “We both know you prefer me to be a devil.”

“Damn right.” You pull him down with a grin to meet your lips again for a proper greeting kiss. “I missed you,” you mumble after a moment, not wanting to leave his lips just yet. “Not as much as Elliot did, but I missed you a whole lot.”

Days off work without Loki by your side just seem...incomplete.

“Is that why you’re cooking, my queen?” He pushes you up against the counter, the marble digging into your back, leaning in for a kiss as your heart rate speeds up—but he just reaches around you to peek inside a pot on the stove. “This looks…dangerous.”

“Hey!” You smack his chest with the back of your hand. “That’s what I get for trying to treat my husband?”

“You’re endangering the both of us and our son with your hospitality, darling.” He grins at you and waves a hand over the pot, and right away the bubbling stops, the strange smell emitting from the pot disappearing. “Much better. You’re welcome.”

“I’m offended.”

Cool hands slip under your thighs and hoist you onto the counter, and Loki takes his place between your knees, already dragging his lips down the curve of your neck. “Let me make it up to you,” he purrs in your ear, slipping his hands under your shirt to dig into your waist. “We’ve still got a few minutes left on our Elliot timer…”

“Okay, I didn’t figure out time—what’re you doin’, dad?”

God damn it. This kid needs to learn to knock.

Elliot stops behind Loki, tapping him on the leg as Loki resurfaces from his spot happily nipping along the underside of your jaw. “I’m helping your mother cook dinner,” he sighs, stepping away from you and pushing your knees closed. “Are our five minutes up already?”

The little kid sighs too, holding up his hands with a shrug. “I dunno. I just had an idea, that’s all.” He pauses and thinks for a minute, trying to remember something. “A…a prop-uh-sition for you.”

“A proposition?” You laugh, a distracted hand running across Loki’s shoulders to curl in the hair at the nape of his neck. “By all means, good sir, do tell us.”

Loki’s eyes flutter closed when you lightly scratch at his scalp and he nearly sighs aloud—what do you think are you doing, being so absentmindedly gentle with him?

Not that you even realise. It’s just second nature, to touch him, to somehow let him know that you’re there with him. And Loki practically purrs when you play with his hair, so that makes it ten times better.

“I was thinkin’ that since I’m, ya know, lonely all the time,” Elliot starts, glancing down at his hands. “I should have a best friend. That way I don’t have to take yours, mom.”

“And who is that, Elliot?”

“Dad.” He’s avoiding your gazes for some reason and picking at the palm of one hand now—oh no.

That nervous tick looks a little too familiar.

“Oh, Elliot, you wouldn’t be taking us from each other—”

“I want a baby brother!” Elliot blurts, immediately clapping a hand over his mouth once he says it. “Sorry. Um…could I—could I get a baby brother?”

Loki’s jaw has practically fallen to the floor, and your hand freezes with fingers curled tight in his hair. “A…baby? Another one?” He stutters, turning to you with a growing grin.

“It doesn’t have to be a brother!” Elliot cuts in, trying to press his case as best he can. “A sister would be awesome too, I just…kinda want a brother. But I love sisters too.”

“What do you think, darling wife of mine?” Loki smiles at you with a gleam in his eye, reaching up to brush his fingers along your cheek. “Another baby? Give Elliot some company in our dreary home?”

He’s taking the idea better than you thought. One kid had been a big enough step in the right direction for him, but now two?? You can only hope he’s as relaxed and open to this idea on the inside as much as he shows on the outside.

“I don’t know…” you pretend to think, starting to calmly run your fingers through Loki’s hair again. “It takes a lot of hard work to get a baby.”

“Right…” Loki leans back against the counter between your knees, resting his hands on your thighs. “A lot of hard work. First there’s the request form you have to fill out, the parenting applications, then you have to wait for packaging and shipping…”

“Pay extra for shipping if you want the baby quicker,” you chime in, resting your chin on the top of Loki’s head with a smile.

Elliot nods seriously, hanging onto your every word. “I’ll help you get the baby,” he promises, reaching in his pocket and pulling out a little gold coin—one he had brought back from the last time you were all in Asgard. “Here, I’ll start saving my money. Then we can get the baby quicker.”

He presses the coin into Loki’s hand and runs off to go find the jar he keeps the rest of his coins in. “Let’s get the baby as fast as we can!” He shouts as he dashes away. “Order the baby right now!”

You can’t help but burst out laughing now that the kid is out of the room, wrapping your arms around Loki’s neck. “Right now?” You repeat between giggles. “I mean…in the kitchen? Really?”

“How about we eat dinner first,” he laughs, tipping his head back to look up at you. “Get Elliot all tucked in bed, then you and I can get to work ordering this new baby.”

He’s beaming up at you, that boyish glint in his eye, you’d almost call it excitement. You instinctively dip your head down to plant an upside-down kiss on his laughing lips, your hands cradling the sides of his face. “You’re okay with this, Loki? You really want another kid?”

His smile falters for just a moment and he keeps his eyes closed when you pull away, running your thumb over his cheekbones. “I think so,” he answers quietly, a hand coming up to rest over yours. “Yes, I-I have my fears, my doubts…but Elliot is the second greatest addition to my sorry excuse of a life.”

“Aw, snowflake,” you grin and peck another kiss on his lips. “That’s uncharacteristically sweet of you to say.”

“…the first greatest addition being my gold helmet, of course.” He licks his smirking lips and steps away from you, running a hand through his hair. “I think it truly brings out the green in my eyes, wouldn’t you agree? Makes me look exceptionally tempting—”

“Oh, shut it.” Laughing, you backhand his chest and hop off the counter, shoving him out of the way to get to the pot on the stove. “You know, we don’t have to decide tonight,” you remind him, sending him a small smile. “If you have any doubts at all then we can always wait and talk about it more, really make sure that’s what we’re gonna do.”

Loki’s smirk fades into a genuine smile when you turn your head to him, and he comes up behind you at the stove to rest his chin on your shoulder. “Elliot has made his opinion on the matter clear. What of you, my love?”

You stop stirring as you think for a moment, a trillion thoughts ricocheting around your mind. Another baby…hell yes. Another mini-Loki…hell yes. But double the chaos, double the expenses, double the lack of sleep…?

Cool lips trace up the curve of your neck, across your jaw to rest against your cheek as Loki wraps his arms tightly around your waist. “Double the gentle moments around the dinner table,” he murmurs, lightly kissing your cheek after each statement, “double the laughter in our home, double the little hands to hold, double the beautiful, bright eyes seeing for the first time, double the entertaining chaos of bath time…”

“Okay, okay, you convinced me,” you laugh and reach up to hold Loki’s face, turning your head to plant a firm kiss on his lips. “I want another baby, Loki. If you honestly do, too.”

“My wife wants another baby, my son wants another baby…” his arms squeeze tighter around your waist. “Who am I to not make that happen?”

“Are you sure?”

“As long as I have you by my side the entire way, there’s nothing two children can throw at us that we can’t handle.”

You huff a disbelieving laugh—Elliot causes enough trouble by himself, once he has a partner in crime? Yikes. But Loki’s right: you can handle it.

“…so that’s it then?” You spin around to face Loki, the gentle smile on his face melting your heart as you wave your wooden spoon at him. “You want another baby?”

“Absolutely, if you do.” He grins and leans in for another kiss.

“I want one if you do, so…do you?”

“Do you?”

“Do you?”

Loki throws his head back with a laugh, then shakes his head at you. “I do.”

A smile cracks across your face and you hold his head in both hands, pointing the dirty spoon away from his cheek. “Say it,” you ask gently, pulling him in for a kiss. “I want to hear you say it, Loki, so I know you mean it.”

His smile brushes against your lips with every heartfelt word that he spouts with a surprising amount of ease: this is not the same god you married.

This is a man with a changed heart.

“I want another baby, with you.”

You kiss him hard, your eyes screwed shut as your fingers curl around his cheek and jaw, trying to memorise how those words felt coming out of his mouth onto your lips—he means it.

“Okay, I got the money, I got the plan—hey, stop that kissin’ already.” Elliot’s back in the kitchen and tapping your thigh, a jar of coins in one hand and a paper in the other.

Loki just grins into your lips and holds you tighter in his arms, dipping you down to kiss you even harder.

“I said stop that! Stop it, stop it!” Elliot pushes between you both, trying to pry his dad’s hands off of you.

“Excuse us, Elliot,” Loki finally gasps, pulling away from your lips with an over-exaggerated smack. “We were busy. How may we help you?”

“Here’s the money for the baby.” Elliot hands you the jar of coins and starts unfolding the paper in his other hand. “And this is the kinda baby I want, so you make sure you order the right kind.”

He thrusts the paper into Loki’s hand, stepping back as you both look at it, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet.

It’s a drawing, a crude sketch with scraggly arms and colours escaping the lines, but you can make out two little people sitting one in front of the other in a box that you guess is supposed to be a plane. The littler of the two stick figure kids has their crooked arms spread wide as wings, soaring through the unevenly drawn stars on the paper, around the moon in the corner.

“Me ‘n my baby are gonna go to space all the time,” Elliot explains, eagerly clasping his hands in front of his chin. “Just like you, daddy.”

“Is that so?”

You swear you can hear the fullness of Loki’s heart at that exact moment.

Loki smiles at you, putting a hand on the side of your face and pulling you towards him to press a kiss to your temple, then kneels down in front of Elliot. “We’ll get you this baby,” he promises, taking his head in both hands and placing a kiss on the kid’s forehead. “As soon as possible.”

“Can you order my baby right now?” Elliot asks, looking up at Loki as he takes the little boy’s hand, walking over to the fridge together. Loki takes one of the plastic letter magnets, the letter E, and sticks Elliot’s beautiful drawing on the door of the refrigerator.

“We’ll order it tonight,” Loki assures him, picking him up with a smile and ruffling his curly hair. “Won’t we, darling?”

You step over to join the two of them, wrapping your arms around them and tugging Loki in for a kiss. “We’re gonna order the heck out of your baby, okay?”

Elliot’s face bursts into a wide, obliviously innocent grin and he throws his arms around both of your necks. “Okay,” he giggles, squeezing you both tightly. “Okay, okay. Thank you!!”

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

hope you enjoyed, feel free to send me ideas!

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug  @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas @doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream  @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettrosella @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina

[the-writerly-night-owl]

To Make Things Right

Mother of the Year/ Thomas Mendez x MC 

Summary: After getting bogged down with so many bills and the trial, Gloriana Day turns to one person that she hopes will help her. Her dad. She might need a little moral support from Thomas along the way, its even better when things get a little heated. 

Authors note: I was really curious to know why her dad was never mentioned. So I figured Grandpa day to the rescue sort of. They mention pretty casually where MC went to high school so I’m guessing close ish but not where they need to be. Plenty of Thomas x MC too where there’s a slightly steamy scene at the end. Enjoy! 

Gloriana Day calmly went into the law firm with a heavy heart. Her day had not gone well so far in the job search. She actually went to places to put paper applications in until it hit her. This was the day that things were going to change. Hopefully for the better.

“Is Thomas in?” asked Gloriana to the secretary as he looked surprised to see her. After a quick phone call, she was allowed in with Thomas waiting for her.

She had to love his office, she thought, as she closed the door behind her. It was big with windows that over looked a park. The dark furniture stood out with tons of law books on the shelves. From his seat Thomas was studying her a concerned look on his face. He had pushed away what he was working on minus a few things that needed attention.

“Gloriana is everything okay?” he asked alert with a legal pad and pen in front of him.

Sighing she nodded. “Everything is fine, it’s just that I got an email about paying the psychologist,” she said nervously starting out.

“Oh, if you need to borrow money,” said Thomas rummaging around in a drawer.

“It’s not… Well it is borrowing money but not from you. Um, oh gosh this is so hard to say.”

Shakily she took her phone out of her pocket as Thomas curiously watched her. Then perched herself at the edge of the chair.

“Breathe, everything will be okay,” he said starting a breathing exercise himself while she followed along. “Now what’s this about borrowing money?”

Her mind going a mile a minute before she could swallow any pride and dignity that she had left in her. This was going to be hard to do especially since it had been so long.

“I’m going to call my dad,” she said letting it all rush out. “Only thing is I haven’t talked to him since I married Guy. He never approved of him and for good reason looking back. I’m just afraid of what he’s going to say or asking for money would be wrong. I came here wondering if you’d just sit with me as I did it.”

Finally, able to breath normal again she watched Thomas’s face. He looked surprised for a minute and then relaxed into a smile. Getting up from his desk Thomas took the chair next to hers and faced her. Gently he took her hands and pulled her into a hug.

“Of course, I know how hard it can be. Um, Soldedad’s parents have been hard for me to talk to. I know it’s not the same, but I understand moral support. Besides if you can go all lawyery on him and just know that you have a friend here.”

Gloriana felt her smile grow a little and raised an eyebrow. “Just a friend?” she teased.

Thomas stuttered for a moment before shaking his own head. “Okay you got me. Just call okay? The worst he could say is no.”

Nodding her head Gloriana dialed the number she last knew that he had. He still lived in her childhood home and he even kept her room the same as it was when she was a teenager. Smiling she gripped his hand until they heard the line pick up on the other end.

“Hello,” said the voice of her father Michael Day.

Thomas gripped her hand and nodded.

“Dad?” she said.

“Gloriana? It’s so good to hear from you, is everything okay?”

Smiling at Thomas she told him everything that was going on. How she had divorced Guy, but she had a daughter now. What Lucia was like and just how smart she was. They had moved to Goldcliffe which was only about a half hour away from him now. What was even more amazing was how her dad asked the right questions and sounded very enthusiastic. Gloriana could imagine her dad sitting on his favorite chair with some team playing on the tv in the background.

Then finally telling him why she was calling.

“Dad, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to call you just to ask for money, but I didn’t know what else to do. I know that you raised me to stand on my own and not depend on you so much,” she said tears streaming down her cheeks. She really didn’t care what the PTA would think if they found out she got money from her father.  Thomas rubbing her back soothingly as she wiped it away from her face.

There was a long pause from the other end of the phone.

“You’re done with Guy right?” he asked.

“I never want to see his face again as long as I live if I can help it.”

What was weird was that she could hear him smiling on the other end of the line. “Good,” he said doing something on the other end while she heard him hum. “Thomas, you sound like a great guy, I give you all kinds of permission to marry my daughter if you wish.”

Color flooded to her cheeks while burying her face in her hands hiding a tiny smile. She glanced at Thomas who had paused and looked like one of Lucia’s red marker a pleased smile on his face as well. 

“Okay,” he squeaked.

“How much is it?” asked Michael as Gloriana told him the amount. It was just around three paychecks from her job. “Alright Gloriana, I have the money to help you out.” Her heart leapt in her chest with glee before squeezing Thomas’s hand. “However, I want you to move back into the house. Lucia’s school is only a half hour away, you just have to drive her. That way you can save some money, so you don’t have to pay rent. I could use some help around here.” 

Gloriana looked at her phone wonder why he would want her back. Thomas brought her back to reality as he rubbed her back. Then gave her a thumbs up as a gesture to take the offer.

“I can do that, you have no idea how much this means to me.”

“I’m just glad to have you back and away from Guy. I’m glad you realized just how terrible he really is. Now Thomas I have something that might help with this case. You see I’ve kept all the emails Gloriana was sending her mother saying just how bad he was before she passed. Including a day where you mentioned that he hit you when you got in a fight.”

Thomas rounded on her an angry and stunned look on his face.

“You didn’t tell me he hit you. I’ll beat him up for that,” said Thomas getting livid at the mere mention of that night. “It will definitely help in this case; can you print those Mr. Day?”

“Oh, call me Mike but of course. I also know a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy that tried suing his snack company but got bribed off. If I can figure out his name, I’ll send him your way.”

Gloriana remember that day he had assaulted her. It was terrible but she had just brushed it off as somethings that happened in fights. This was almost too easy but then again moving Lucia wasn’t going to be a picnic. Finding a job was tough with a commute like that. Plus she had extra chores on top of the normal ones she had to do. 

Her dad and Thomas made a plan together which just made her smile. Things were finally letting up and this a good sign, right? 

“I love you dad,” she said, “And I’ll tell Lucia you said hello.” 

“I love you too sweetheart. I can’t wait to meet her.” 

Finally, the phone call ended with Thomas staring at her long and hard. She wished she told him this stuff earlier but things just got so complicated. About to apologize she turned to him. 

“Thom…”

His lips were on hers before she could say anything else. Kissing him back she wrapped her arms around him hands getting lost in his soft hair. Her legs went around his waist straddling him. Thomas had adjusted for her to sit on his desk. Forgetting about what just happened, Gloriana pushed aside his papers as they flew on the floor. She pulled him closer to her clawing at his jacket.

Thomas opened his mouth for her until they were fighting for dominance. Her sweater had inched up tan skin before she went to throw it off to the side.

“You could have told me that he did that,” he muttered between kisses across her collarbone and shoulder. She melted underneath him, her underwear growing wet at the thought of seeing all of him. 

“Well, I wouldn’t have seen you get all protective like this.” She kissed his lips once more a hand running up his shirt and felt his toned muscles.

He paused and kissed down to her breast. His hands pulled her close to him where they could only see each other. His body radiating warmth while she tugged at his belt. “Well, I would do something to…”

Before he could finish, there was a knock on the door. Gathering her sweatshirt, she made herself look presentable and Thomas adjusting his clothes. They shared a long look as the secretary poked his head in after getting permission. He reminded him that he was going on his lunch break.

“Would you like lunch Gloriana?” asked Thomas. “Taco truck?”

“Taco truck.”

With that they left the building. Even if her dad’s guy who knew a guy who knew a guy didn’t work out, they at least had evidence but that was good enough for her. Instead her mind wandering to when the next time she and would be able to make out like that again or even farther. And if she did go farther, maybe, just maybe, it would be on his desk. 

Tag list: @flyawayboo @queen-among-writers @am-i-invisible777 @adrianadmirer @fluffy-cat-whisper @melodyofgraves @symonde @paisleylovergirl @elainew13 @itsbrindleybinch @brightpinkpeppercorn @darley1101 @mfackenthal @jlpplays1 @writerapprentice @indescribablechoices 

Let me know if you want to be tagged in future stories or taken off! 

[chouetteffraie]

I request dazatsu 18! Go ham!

18. “I do” kiss

Nonnie when I saw this request I got so happy because they deserve to be husbands!!! So thank u for kissing up to me uwu

You told me to go ham and go ham I did! This puppy is 3237 words long because I was sad one day and wanted to drown myself in fluff- so I did! That’s why most of it is under a read more- it’s loooooooong.

Also if you’re interested I put this baby on ao3 too, which you can find here!

Thank you so so much for the ask, dear nonnie! This concludes the kiss prompts! Thank you again for all your requests, and for 300 followers!!

——

Even with no expectations set, this moment exceeded all of them.

When dreaming about this day as the date neared closer and closer, Dazai thought standing at the altar would shred his nerves and ruin his day. He thought the mask he’d forced himself to put on would sour everyone’s mood as they lamented his inability to show his true emotions. But, under the gaze of the Armed Detective Agency- his coworkers- his friends- Dazai didn’t fidget or shy away. When he was joined at the altar by a brightly smiling Atsushi, who’s light rivaled the sun as it filtered through the thin canopy above them, Dazai had no problem returning the gesture and hoping it came close to what he was given.

-

“Are you sure this is what you want, Atsushi?” Dazai asked countless times under the cover of darkness, half-hoping his betrothed would be asleep. He always asked too quickly, as his fear of the answer ate at him too persistently, and Atsushi always answered.

“Of course I’m sure, Dazai-san,” He answered. “Why wouldn’t I want someone as handsome and smart as you?”

These answers did little to calm Dazai’s nerves. “But…there are plenty of other smart and handsome guys out there. You deserve someone who won’t drag you down, someone you don’t have to keep watch over-”

“If my husband starts to fall, I sure hope he’ll try to drag me down so I can use his grip on me to pull him back up,” Atsushi interrupted. “And keeping watch over you just gives me a reason to be closer to you.” 

Atsushi often told him that he always knew what to say, Dazai knew it was really the other way around.

-

Dazai hadn’t planned on how fidgety he’d be during the actual ceremony. He wanted to bounce his knees, play with Atsushi’s fingers, or reach out and play with his hair. Ever the one to overthink, Atsushi would most likely think he was nervous, though, or uncomfortable- or worse, having second thoughts. For a brief second, an image of a crestfallen Atsushi as he allowed himself to think Dazai would leave him at the altar flashed through Dazai’s mind. A gentle squeeze at his hands pulled him back in, revealing Atsushi with his head tilted and a confused look on his face. He was still smiling, glowing in a happiness Dazai still couldn’t be convinced was given by him, though the way his eyebrows furrowed asked that one terrifying question: are you okay?

Dazai gulped, a million thoughts flashing through his mind. No, not really. I feel like I’m going to throw up, or ruin this whole ceremony, or fail you and make you regret ever committing yourself to me. Please, please don’t leave me, I- He cut himself off before he could spiral too far and gave Atsushi a slight nod, flashing a smile he hoped looked as genuine as he felt. Those wrinkles on his forehead didn’t smooth out, though, and Dazai detested the thought of Atsushi having his big day sullied by Dazai’s wandering mind. Screw it. It’s my wedding too, he thought before lifting one of Atsushi’s hands to his lips and gently pressing a kiss to his knuckles. From the guests, he could hear Naomi squeal for a split second before a hand smacked over her mouth, most likely Tanizaki’s. When Dazai lowered their hands back between them, brushing his thumb over the spot he kissed, he allowed his smile to soften. That was enough to ease Atsushi, who returned the gesture. God, that was a smile he would gladly-

-live for.

-

Atsushi placed another sticker on the chart hanging on their fridge, an endearing idea he had invented to keep Dazai in line. The rules were simple: every time Dazai got his work done on time (or within an hour of overtime), properly vocalized his feelings, or kept his pestering of Kunikida to a minimum (a much more realistic request than not bothering the man at all, much to Atsushi’s partial dismay), he got a sticker. The more important the task, the bigger and shinier the sticker was. However, every misbehavior got stickers revoked. 

Though Dazai would never admit it, he hated watching Atsushi peel the stickers off the paper and flick them off in the trash: whether it was because he somehow got attached to the stickers like a child or because he hated the pensive expression on Atsushi’s face as he did it, he didn’t know.

In a month’s time, he had racked up quite an impressive collection, stars, hearts and smiley faces covering the paper in a testament to his good behavior. Atsushi struggled to fit the next sticker in the collage, the awkward shape and size of the cat’s head overlapping other stickers. His tongue peeked out through his lips as he tried to find a clear space until Dazai got bored of the display.

“Atsushi-kun, I’ve got a much better idea. Why don’t you just put it on my face? Right here,” he suggested, pointing at his nose and going cross-eyed, hoping his mild theatrics would draw Atsushi’s attention. Instead, Atsusi sighed and straightened up, rubbing the bottom of his back.

“No, this one’s important,” Atsushi argued, finally deciding on where to place the sticker. The ear overlapped a star, but he waved his hand to brush it off and walked over to Dazai.

“Oh? What’s it for?” Dazai asked, leaning back in the chair and allowing Atsushi to bend over him instead. He didn’t miss a beat when Atsushi’s lips found his, moving his lips against his eagerly and reaching a hand to his waist. With a little pressure, he eased Atsushi to place his knees beside his hips, holding onto him as if he’d float away. The cheap chair groaned beneath them, and Dazai was glad he’d gotten Atsushi out of the habit of shying away at the slightest sound.

When Atsushi pulled himself away, Dazai fought the urge to chase after him and forget about the rest of their agenda- Kunikida should expect allowing the pair to take a long lunch break would end in a half day of work for them and an extended one for him. He resisted, though, and trailed one hand down Atsushi’s arm, intertwining their fingers once he reached his hand.

“The sticker? Well, uh…” Atsushi’s tongue poked at the side of his cheek as he chose his words. “You’ve just…been much more enthusiastic about being alive. I figured you deserved an extra fancy sticker for that.”

“So my life is only worth a sticker to you, huh?” Atsushi immediately opened his mouth to protest, eyes going wide. He backed himself up so fast he nearly tipped himself off the chair, saved only by Dazai wrapping his arms around him and pulling him back. “I’m messing with you, Atsushi. No need to start a fuss. Still, I wonder what it could be that caused such a drastic change in my behavior, hm?”

He connected their fingers again, this time pulling their hands up to eye-level and twisting their hands this way and that. In the early noon light, a twinkling caught Atsushi’s eye, sunlight reflecting off a small metal band on Dazai’s finger. He smiled, relaxing into Dazai’s hold until he was resting entirely on his body, and placing a kiss right on the ring.

“I’m glad, Osamu,” he muttered softly. “I’m excited, too.”

The two of them sat there, Dazai rubbing absently at Atsushi’s back and relishing in the warmth of his body against his. He never thought he would favor this soothing moment over the exhilarating rush of a new relationship, yet the fulfillment he felt pumping through his veins with each steady beat of his heart proved him wrong yet again. There wasn’t a chance he’d ever grow tired of Atsushi, with his gentle kisses and kind words that pierced through Dazai’s heart every time. Atsushi was an adventure every day: what new way of torturing Dazai would he come up with? What display of affection would he force Dazai to accept, and how long would it be until he brainwashed him into believing he deserved it? The answers were too tempting to know- he couldn’t die until he figured out every answer, and Atsushi always managed to give him a slew of new questions to solve the next day.

After a few moments of sitting against each other, Atsushi pushed against him again and brushed his hair away from his face. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you choose where to put your sticker, Osamu.”

Dazai huffed in faux annoyance. “For such an important one, that should’ve been half the prize!”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Cupping Dazai’s face in both hands, Atsushi pressed a gentle kiss to his nose and chuckled at the heat spreading underneath his fingertips. The smallest kisses always seemed to fluster Dazai- all the more reason to give them to him. “How’s that? Do you forgive me?”

A content hum rumbled deep in Dazai’s chest. “I suppose.”

“Good, because we need to get back to work.”

This earned a sigh. “You are absolutely no fun.”

-

Did wedding ceremonies normally take this long? Dazai felt like he had been standing in front of everyone for hours and they hadn’t even gotten to the vows yet. He felt himself getting antsy again, eager to be able to call Atsushi his husband. The word felt weird on his tongue the first time he said it, and it felt even weirder the thousand times he said it before the day of the wedding as he waited for the last details to be arranged. Kenji had stopped by and asked him why he kept repeating “husband, my husband, I’m Atsushi’s husband and he is my husband, we are husbands,” and left thinking it was some strange tradition for city folk to say the word a thousand times for good luck. Ranpo had fun with that one, and Kunikida prayed the boy would forget that tidbit of knowledge if and when it was his turn to marry. Now, though, he was longing to be able to adjust and to call Atsushi his husband honestly for the first time.

He started stroking Atsushi’s knuckles again, hoping to calm his sudden anxiety. Atsushi squeezed his hands in response, keeping his focus on the officiant so he wouldn’t miss his cue. Were the vows coming soon? Dazai couldn’t care to listen. Instead he marvelled at the sight before him, wondering why he never thought to compare Atsushi to an angel until now. The sunlight seemed to encompass him, providing him with a brilliant aura that only highlighted his soft features. He was stronger than he was before, and had finally put on enough weight that Dazai didn’t worry a particularly strong gust of wind would knock him over. He wouldn’t let Dazai touch his hair yet- he had grown a sort of fondness for it, and Dazai wasn’t putting up much complain at keeping that long strand around for him to tug and twist around his fingers- but he did trim it up to keep out of his face. 

Perhaps the best improvements he made were his eyes. They were always beautiful, but now they didn’t seem as cloudy as they used to be. He was more confident, happier, and he had a future and a family to look forward to. Now, as he stole a glance at Dazai, the teasing smirk he gave him lit his eyes up in a way that nearly sent Dazai to tears.

Atsushi was adamant that he owed that light to Dazai, for saving him and taking care of him. Though he was sure the light was all Atsushi’s doing, he didn’t mind taking a little bit of credit, not when it earned him a million thank-you kisses and more. The other parts, he was less lenient on.

-

The dinner had been nice and completely on Atsushi (under the condition he go easy on the sake), which Dazai had no complaints about. Even when Atsushi pointed out that they shared funds, Dazai merely took that as an invitation to drink all the sake he wanted. The restaurant they went to, thankfully, wasn’t too packed- after all, a Wednesday wasn’t much to celebrate. Still, he could tell Atsushi had called ahead when they were led to a nice. semi-private balcony table with only a few other tables around. 

That should’ve been a clue as to what was about to happen, but Atsushi had a way of making Dazai feel as if he could let his guard down. He truly didn’t see it coming.

After their pleasant dinner, Dazai was pestering Atsushi for dessert before the sun completely slipped beneath the horizon. A cool breeze blew over them, and Atsushi tucked that strand of hair behind his ear, suddenly bashful. His hands fidgeted in his lap, and he refused to make eye contact with Dazai. What was happening, and what was with that lovesick grin on his face?

“Actually, Osamu, I was hoping I could talk to you first,” Atsushi said, still avoiding his gaze. Dazai tilted his head and shut up, something Atsushi had a talent for making him do and often used at the request of Kunikida at the office. “I wanted to invite you to dinner because I wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me?” Dazai asked. Did he do something out of the ordinary recently?

Atsushi blushed a deeper red. “Yes. For taking such good care of me. I know you’ve always said I didn’t, or shouldn’t, thank you, but I can’t agree…and…well, I’m about to ask something extremely selfish.”

At some point, Atsushi had brought his hands up to grip at the table, so Dazai reached over and grabbed one of them. “I would do anything for my Atsushi-kun! Ask away!”

Pulling his hand away, Atsushi gave him a smile and reached into his pocket. Dazai watched as he slid a small box over to him, checking out of the corner of his eye to see if anybody was watching. “Really? Would you continue to take care of me…forever? I’d do my best every day to take care of you, too. I mean…if you’d like that, that is.”

For a man who prided himself on being on top of every situation, Dazai stared in disbelief at the box for a long time before slowly picking it up. He should’ve seen this coming, really- yet he never allowed himself to hope that Atsushi might want to keep him around for the rest of their lives. Even with the solid proof right in front of him, he still couldn’t believe that Atsushi meant it.

He only remembered that he was keeping Atsushi waiting when he saw panic start to flutter in his eyes. He opened the box and couldn’t help the small gasp when he saw the ring: tiny blue gems on a thin silver band. When he looked back at Atsushi, the panic had subsided, though he was still gritting his teeth as if he had done something wrong.

Hadn’t he learned by now that he could do wrong in Dazai’s eyes?

“I…I’d be honored, Atsushi,” Dazai answered. As if the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders, Atsushi grinned and drew his hands back to clutch at his chest. Carefully taking the ring out of the box, Dazai examined it, watching it sparkled as he twisted it in the sunset. “I-If you really think I’m up for the job…”

“I do! Think you’re up for the job, I mean,” he responded, watching Dazai slip the ring on his finger and inspect it again. “And even if you weren’t…I’d still want to take care of you.”

There was no need to ask him why. Just as Dazai helped build Atsushi up and helped him to believe in his own worth, Atsushi helped Dazai too. Dazai wasn’t a savior like Atsushi used to see him as. After all, Atsushi was the one to pull him out of the river that day, so he was the one who started the chain. They used to spend hours on end debating, trying to call the other the hero of the relationship. Though it took an embarrassingly long time, they eventually realized the truth. 

There was no one savior. They saved each other, and they took care of each other. It had always been that way, and Dazai wouldn’t want any part of that to change.

-

It took Dazai a moment to realize what was happening until finally he processed the word he had been waiting to hear. Atsushi’s attention was now completely on him, a warm spotlight he wasn’t sure he’d ever want to leave. A list of promises the two of them already made a thousand times over prattled on in the space between them, until the officiant paused his rant. Atsushi showed Dazai the biggest grin he had ever seen; Dazai’s heart fluttered up to his throat. Words he didn’t think anybody would dare to say with him in mind filled the air; somebody sniffled in the crowd.

“I do,” Atsushi said. A jolt went through Dazai’s body, as if he could feel as Atsushi official promise and entrust his heart to him. Dazai suddenly felt unsure on his feet, and his knees trembled.

Another reassuring squeeze, Dazai watched Atsushi switch their hands so he could run a thumb over Dazai’s knuckles. There was a sudden pressure behind Dazai’s eyes threatening to leak out, along with the overwhelming fear that when he opened his mouth his heart would jump out. He spent so much time trying to force it back in its place he almost missed his cue.

He caught the tail end of his half of the vows, and cleared his throat. His voice as unwavering as his faith in the man before him, Dazai nodded. “I do.”

Neither of them needed permission to meet. Dazai wrapped one arm around Atsushi’s waist securely before placing one hand on his cheek and pulling him in. Atsushi could barely return the favor with his grin in the way, and Dazai couldn’t fight his own smile from breaking them apart too soon either. To compensate, he placed kiss after kiss on Atsushi’s face, making sure to cover every inch in his affection before pulling away for a moment.

“You’re sure?” Dazai asked tentatively. “I-If not, I’m sure we could make something up-”

“I’m absolutely sure, Osamu. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.” 

A sudden burst of happiness exploded within Dazai, finally let free at the prospect of sharing his life with someone who could treat him so delicately. He wasn’t too fond of sobbing in front of Kunikida, so Dazai took that energy and dipped Atsushi down, giving him one final kiss to seal their fate together. Atsushi clutched onto Dazai’s jacket, close enough to his heart Dazai was sure he was able to feel it beating erratically. There was a pink painting Atsushi’s face when he finally lifted him up, and Dazai couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from his chest. He pressed Atsushi’s hand to his lips before leading him down the aisle with their hands linked, where their friends- no, their family- cheered them on, welcoming them in their new life together.

[seafoamkazuo]

Does Schrodinger’s Cat have nine lives?

 Prologue - Next

Chapter 1: Future Problem Children

Pairings: None so far.

Sachie Komuro is not a good person.

“Sachie, how was school? Did you make any new friends?” Her mother smiled softly as she walked in the door of the apartment.

“Ummm…” She paused unable to immediately answer. “Well… Dad…”

She never was.

She felt the cold weight of her father’s hand on her shoulder. “Picked her up today… She was kind of upset about it. Guess it’s not cool to have your Dad come get you at school anymore, right?”

Sachie glanced up at her father, her mind fuzzed a bit around the edges. She had not really wanted to tell her mom after all. “Yeah… that’s right… It’s kind of embarrassing.”

Not since her father realized just what her quirk could do.

Sachie stood still at the door way as her father walked past her as her mother continued to speak, “Well… honestly I think she’d be fine walking home. The area around Nabu Middle School is supposed to be safe enough.”

“What and leave my little girl susceptible to villains there are more around than you think.” Sachie stared at the ground trying to clear her head letting her parent’s conversation disappear into the background. It was not like it mattered anyways she hadn’t been to school in the last five days. Dad had kept taking her out after day three.

Not since her quirk came in.

Sachie gasped for breath turning a corner before she ran into someone. She felt the shove coming more than she saw it. Going limp as she was shoved against the large window of a convenience store. She heard it wobble as she slide down. “S-s-s,” She tried to speak but the combination of her mad dash and memories caught the words in her. She heard Schrodinger beginning to yowl and hiss. She glanced over as she curled in on herself. She was surprised the cat had managed to keep pace with her. The man who shoved her grumbled out something, the familiar sound of an umbrella opening as the man stalked away. Right it was raining, no wonder Schrodinger was upset. She heard the swift movement of steps in her direction. “Are…. Ou… okay?” Her ears were ringing she could not make out what they were saying. Maybe they would leave her alone if she did not reply. They seemed concerned from what she could make out though; that was nice of them.

Schrodinger butted their head against her leg. There fuzzy face sinking into the leg in a way that would have been startling if Sachie was not used to it. Sachie unwrapped a hand from around her legs letting her finger stroke the fur on the Schrodinger’s back. They fell through entering the subspace that was the storage dimension that cat created. It wasn’t really what she wanted to do but she could never quite pet the cat right when she was upset. As she continued to pet Schrodinger, she could still feel the slight softness of their fur even if her fingers were still going through them. She heard additional murmurs but rather than concerned they seemed more focused on how interesting her quirk was. Sachie looked down to see Schrodinger walking through her legs as they tried to rub up against them. Sachie snorted a bit which caused Schrodinger to let out a soft, “Mrrp” as they stuck their head through Sachie’s leg. The face poking out past her knee. Sachie continued to run a hand along Schrodinger’s back bringing the other scratch underneath Schrodinger’s chin. She was spoiling them; she really should stop after all even if she thought these antics were cute other people were probably freaked out by the cat passing through her limbs. Sachie rolled her shoulders before putting a hand on the ground to stand up.

Then a hand appeared in front of her, “Here, are you doing better now?” Sachie froze at the movement and slowly looked up. There was a boy with vivid green eyes and a smile on his face watching her. She quickly averted her eyes as she took the boys hand who suddenly tugged pulling her to her feet. She stumbled a bit before righting herself wondering why she could not share in Schrodinger’s cat like grace, “If it isn’t too much invasive is that your quirk?” The boy seemed to point at Schrodinger, “I mean I thought at first that maybe you just had a quirk that let you phase through things but then I remembered that you ran into that gentleman earlier. Though I suppose maybe it’s a quirk that only works if you know the person is coming. I guess I shouldn’t really assume.” The boy continued to murmur to himself under his breath as Sachie could only stand there and listen as the he continued to ramble. Sachie looked down at her hand, she wondered if he realized he was still holding it. Sachie frowned before she decided to get his attention by running her thumb against his knuckles. The results were immediate. The boy threw his hands up gesturing wildly while apologizing.

“It’s fine.” Sachie stated as she looked at her hand, she almost felt disappointed. She shook her head slightly.

The boy looked at her a bit wide-eyed as if remembering something, “Ah but seriously are you alright. It looked like that guy shoved you pretty hard. The window even seemed to wobble.”

“I’m good.” She wasn’t really but in the context of the shove; it wasn’t the worst hit she’d taken over the years. “I went limp… so It didn’t hurt as much as it could of… or wait… Are you supposed to tense up when you take a hit?” She paused in thought before abandoning the idea, “I can never remember which it is?”

“That might be something good to look up for Hero work…” The boy began murmuring under his breath again.

“Hero work?” She tilted her head considering him for a moment.

“Ah yeah. I’m training for the U.A. Entrance Exams by cleaning up the beach.” The boy smiled again, “I’m on a pretty strict schedule… but it ended up downpouring so I was going to take cover for bit but then I saw you and…” The boy looked off a bit sheepishly, “You looked like you need help. Though I suppose I didn’t really end up doing much to help in the end.”

Sachie frowned before flushing her gaze turning away, “I mean… You actually came over to help. So… I say that was good heroic instinct in my opinion. You’d probably make a good hero.” She peered over in his direction and then jolted back. This kid had the ability to produce an ungodly number of tears. She averted her gaze again before looking down at Schrodinger; that was right. She really could not deal with tears, “Anyways… You wanted to hear about my quirk, right?” She opened up her arms so Schrodinger could leap into them. The cat snuggled into her arm rolling so that their belly was facing up. It was cute but that was beside the point, “Observe.” She brought Schrodinger in close to her cradling him in the crook of her one arm as she lifted her other hand up. The boy leaned over towards her eyes watching her intently as her finger glide into Schrodinger’s stomach like they were phasing through an object. She heard him beginning to mumble under his breath as he watched and while normally only sticking her hand in was all she had to do. She kind of couldn’t help but show off a bit; she allowed her hand to go deeper sinking her limb up to her elbow into the cat. She heard the boy shift beside her and figured he was trying to look and see if her hand had passed through Schrodinger but she knew already that it hadn’t. She then paused, trying to think of something she had on Schrodinger. “Umm… wait… what do I have?” Frowning she looked at the kid staring intently before something popped in her mind. She then pulled her arm back out of Schrodinger along with a protein bar. “… Ta-… Tada?” She then held out the protein bar to him.

She paused, the look on the boy’s face was not what she expected. His eyes seemed to light up with a sort of glee, “That’s amazing! Can you pull anything out of your cat?!” The boy seemed to go off on a tangent of theories as she felt her face grow warm. She was probably bright red; she wished she could pull her hood down over her eyes as if it would help quell her embarrassment. She’d never really received compliments before. She could feel her mouth trying to twist out of the neutral friendly expression she had put on. The guilt was eating at her again, why was this kid praising her. “Does the item have to be a particular size in order to be created- “

“Ah no it’s not creation,” She interrupted continuing to hold out the bar in the hopes that eventually the boy would take it from her. “My quirk is Schrodinger’s Cat. Schrodinger here is sort of like a pocket dimension where I can keep things that I can lift and place inside them. I can’t tilt a heavier object in that I would not be able to carry.  Of course, I also have to remember that they are in there or I won’t be able to pull them out.”

“That would be really good for rescue work though or even with Support work. You could probably carry around a lot of delicate medical equipment or supplies. Plus, since your cat can move on their own, you’d be able to maneuver around in tight spaces and not have to worry about equipment getting stuck. Are you thinking about taking the exams too?”

“No. I can’t.”

“Huh,” She kept her gaze averted, she had not meant to say that so bluntly. She frowned look down at her shoes. “Why not?” How was she supposed to answer that question?

“I… don’t really have the smarts for it. U. A’s got some pretty high standards, I doubt I’d pass the written portion and I’d assume there was some sort of practical portion as well.” Plus, it was not like someone like her deserved to try anyway. Especially with what had happened earlier. She was not a good person.

“I mean… it doesn’t hurt to try at least.”

“I suppose…” Sachie looked out past the awning of the building, “Looks like the rain’s cleared. Might want to get to the beach while you can. Also…” She shook the bar one more time hoping he would take it from her. “This is yours by the way. You look like you’re about to fall over.”

“I.” He looked like he was about to reject it but instead took it, “I’m Izuku Midoriya by the way.”

“Sachie Komuro.”

“Maybe we’ll see each other at the exams. Ummm... see you around.” And with that last statement he was gone running down the street again.

She watched him leave before looking down at her hand, “Maybe… probably not though…”

[mojoflower]

Teen Wolf mpreg fic recs (99% Sterek, 1% Steter)

I know that you love me, even when I lose my head by LunaCanisLupus 22 E, 136k, Complete.  “We’re not mates, Cora,” he insists. “I mean look at him-“  //  “Ouch,” the kid says, no longer pushing that shit eating grin.  //  “He’s- he’s,” Derek tries, at a loss of how to explain why this can’t be possible. Why it shouldn’t be possible.  //  Or the one where Derek gets attacked by hunters, ends up with amnesia and forgets Stiles is his mate.

Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Stiles, Alpha Derek, but Stiles is a BAMF, BAMF Stiles, presumably Actual Derek is also a bamf, but College Derek is pretty useless, Heh heh

Wow, this story just grabbed me and didn't let me go and now it's the end of a full day and I have no excuse for abandoning everything except that I was really involved and enjoying the plot.  //  Stiles is such a fucking badass, I love this, he's super-smart and strategizes and handles everything that comes up like a pro and it's totally easy to see why they have such a large and powerful pack. 'College Derek', meanwhile, is a complete sexist asshole (with the whole Alpha/omega thing) who says some super hurtful things in the first half out of sheer ignorance mostly -- although occasionally it's spite. Stiles handles it as well as he can, trying to hide that it hurts and striking back because he has backbone for god's sake... but his bondmark is slowly fading and that's terrifying and tragic.  //  Meanwhile, the Silva pack is due to arrive with some manifest bad intentions, and Peter is lurking around stirring up trouble, and it's a really fucking bad time for Derek to not remember who he is, because it makes their pack vulnerable.  //  Great story.

The Lighthouse Keeper by tugela54 E, 75k, Complete.  On a rural island just off Alaska’s northern Inside Passage, stands a centuries old lighthouse - the perfect sanctuary for its keeper to hide when the moon is full, to burn and rage through its cycle with the townsfolk being none the wiser.  //  But then a new resident comes to Beacon Harbour – a bright-eyed young student chasing an elusive whale species – and all of a sudden those thick stone walls seem paper thin…

Bottom Stiles, Like Whoa,  

 Whoa, that was an intense climax, I'm kinda breathless. Great story. Stiles is earnest and funny (and sooo hot for the giant, hairy, handsome man -- when author says size difference they are not messing around and it's mentioned frequently) and Derek is monosyllabic and awkward. They figure it out eventually, and there is hot sex (did I say size difference and hirsuteness?). Laura's a great werewolf-sister (Derek is the only werewolf) and her son Seth is a cutie. The cast of characters (Chris, Jordon, Finstock, Angus, Gladys and the two First People Miriam and Jonah) are interesting and fleshed-out. Love the plot, and the take on Derek's werewolf (not Teen Wolf style), love the First People lore and rituals, love the setting waaay up in Alaska on this tiny island.  //  (Don't let Major Character Death tag scare you, you're gonna be just fine.)

Hey Lover, I Got a Sugarcane by pibroch (littleblackdog) Steter, E, 17k, Complete.  [References to Mpreg rather than straight-up #mpreg]  “Put Peter on the phone,” Stiles says, too sharp to be polite.  //  “What?” Derek sounds completely thrown. “Stiles, I don’t think— Okay, you’re obviously not understanding what’s happening here. Peter isn’t talking. He’s basically just growling at this point, and he’s rounding on anyone that gets too close. He actually bit me when I tried to take back my pillow. I nearly lost a thumb.”  //  “Derek.” The reality of this shitshow of a situation is finally kicking in, undeniably, and Stiles needs to hear Peter’s voice. “Just trust the omega, okay? Tell him it’s me, and give him the damn phone.”  //  ---"Wrangling Rut-Drunk Alpha Boyfriends 101" by Stiles Stilinski, omega and responsible adult person.

I've loved other things I've read by this author

Delicious. And also funny.

I've Got A Sure Thing by skoosiepants  T, 11k, Complete.  Stiles's water breaks ten miles outside of Beacon Hills.

Fox Stiles, Werefox Stiles, Daddy Stiles

Precious: I love the style, it tumbles and tumbles over itself. Stiles is himself. Derek keeps hanging around, and he loves little Princess Leia. Cora keeps laughing at them. Stiles might be a little confused.

******

He calls Derek and says, “I think your entire family is here, dude,” and Derek roars, “What?” and, “Don't call me dude, “ and, “Fuck, I'll be right over.”

Derek shows up in his EMT uniform and with his partner Boyd, stoic and amused, and the wild look in Derek's eyes is probably as close to a panic as Stiles will ever see him in.

Derek says, “Oh my god, Laura,” and grabs for Prin just as Prin launches herself out of Laura's arms toward him. He swings her up in a practiced movement and settles her on his hip and Laura grins so wide her fangs are showing.

“The pack wanted to meet her, even Mom's here,” she says, gesturing toward a big black wolf that looks almost exactly like Derek in wolf form – the wolf lifts her head and sneezes at them, then goes back to nosing through Stiles's DVD collection.

“Mom,” Derek says, and holds Prin up so she hides his face. Prin tugs at his hair and knees him in the eye and giggles when he shoves her up so her tummy is balanced on the top of his head, it's so cute Stiles can hardly stand it, his life is insane.

“Okay,” Stiles says, clapping his hands together, “I'll make tea.”

I don't think that means what you think it means by ThroughTheTulips  M, 21k, 7 works, Complete.  Ever notice how aliens have mostly similar customs to humans in Stargate? There never seem to be words or concepts that just don't translate. For the most part that makes sense given how they were spread deliberately across the universe, but there should be more weird stuff.  //  So I made some. This is very fluffy and ridiculous. Enjoy.

I simply can't with this. What an unanticipated, hysterical delight.

 I Know Where Babies Come From, Derek by DiscontentedWinter  E, 52k, Complete (series is 132k of deliciousness)  [Implied Mpreg, rather than actual #mpreg].  Stiles finds a baby on the porch.  //  It looks exactly like him.  //  Well, this is awkward.

Favorite, read again, still a favorite

Funny and unique and gripping (and there's one part that's simply fucking heartbreaking, god every.time. I bawl like a baby). I love this so much. It's totally one of my return-again-and-again-comfort-fics (even though there's very little that's slow-paced and domestic about it).

 monday i can fall apart but by friday i'm in love by tryslora  M, 6k, Complete.  It's just past five in the morning and Stiles is barely awake, wearing only sleep pants that hang low below his pregnant belly, and he can't get the damned brand new jar of decaf coffee open. But he has a neighbor, and he's too tired to think that waking someone else up at this hour might not be the best (or politest) of ideas.

Alpha Derek, Omega Stiles, Caretaking,  

lol.  short and funny and sweet and Alpha!Derek is a caretaker (and pregnant omega!Stiles is a sass-spewing dork)

 finger on the trigger and all fired up by tryslora  E, 6k, Complete  [Implied Potential Mpreg rather than #mpreg].  Derek goes undercover to expose a drug trafficking ring running inside of a porn studio. What he finds is Stiles.

Hot and funny.

 I'm Not Immune by moodwriter  E, 24k, Complete.  “Did they inject anything into you? You can hold me back. You can stop me. I can’t stop you.” Stiles is in full blown panic mode now.  //  The one where Stiles and Derek get kidnapped, and sex needs to happen for reasons.

Great story, grows as it's written. Follows a lot of emotional development, tangled in the godawfulfucking situation they're trapped in.

Fire, Fury, and Flame by IAmAVeronica  E, 125k, Complete.  Stiles Stilinski was never going to be the omega who got knocked up right after high school, and then he's accidentally artificially inseminated with a stranger's sperm.  //  Awesome.  //  And the father of Stiles's baby just so happens to be Derek Hale. Half-feral, quite possibly a murderer, and pursued by a gleefully sadistic band of hunters who are only too eager to use Stiles and his baby to hit Derek right where it hurts.  //  Joy.

Omega Stiles, Alpha Derek, Mpreg, Kidnapping, Stalking, cultural ramifications of a/b/o

So, Stiles, the omega-rights activist who never wants anything to do with an Alpha and wants to avoid any of that biological imperative bullshit, winds up pregnant a la Jane the Virgin. BUT. Derek is unwilling to commit, or even to have Stiles tell anyone who the baby-Daddy is. This could be because a complete psychopath has him in her targets.

Kate is one fuck-scary villain, just, crazy as a bag of cats and vicious with it, and the filth that comes out of her mouth is truly chilling.

Stiles gets kidnapped pretty early on, which is frightening enough, and then she's back for another try. At that point, he's kidnapped again, this time by Derek, who whisks him across the country to the Preserve, a werewolf compound in Maine. Here, Stiles is the only human, pregnant and vulnerable and trying to make a temporary life until the baby is born. But will it only be temporary?

There's love, sociopolitical musings, lots of angst, lots of danger. The baby is born about 3/4 of the way through the story, and then Kate comes around to terrorize everyone again. Even though Derek and Stiles are living in a house that's reinforced with bars and a panic room, she still manages to nearly burn Stiles and the baby…

 Rescue Me (& Take Me In Your Arms) by tumtatumtum  E, 34k, Complete (series is 37k so far).  Just when Stiles is starting to reach panic-attack levels of stress, a leather jacket and firm thigh are pressed right up next to him, and an arm is casually thrown over his shoulder. Stiles looks up to thank this kind person who is saving his life, and suddenly forgets what air is.  //  Because HOT. DAMN. Call the police and the fire-man, this guy is smoking.  //  Or the AU where Derek helps save Stiles from an ex, and a steamy BDSM relationship ensues- with feelings all over the place.

Fake/Pretend Relationship, Sub Stiles, Dom Derek

Whoooaa, Nellie. Strap in for a ride, folks. Hot and also hilarious, which is a difficult combo to achieve. Loads of D/s sexy times. Stiles is precious. Derek is possessive and a wee bit insecure. They're awful fun to watch together.  ***The one where Stiles is Alpha Mate which magically means he starts leaking slick outta his ass, even tho he's human.

*******

[Kept trying to find this fic using key words bar and boyfriend and ex-boyfriend... which finally got me there. It's SO worth a re-read or ten.] I also tagged it with fake/pretend relationships, since it's fake for about the first 5 minutes, until Derek puts his hand on the back of Stiles' neck and Stiles moans and MELTS and lo, romantic and sexual interest is born.)

 It's a mad, mad world by ElisAttack  E, 74k, Complete [No #mpreg]  "They call him the Feral Wolf." The man laughs hysterically as Stiles backs away from him, fear coursing through his veins. "Feral Hale. Do you know why? Huh?" The man creeps closer, testing the restraint of his chains, white talcum falling from his skin, swirling in the air like the dust devils plaguing the wasteland. "Because he's fucking mad."  //  Or the one where Stiles is a prisoner looking to return home, but to do so, he may have to rely on a questionable drifter.

Really enjoyed this. Very interesting take on alpha/omega, haven't seen it before. And yay for apocalyptic mad max-type world. Scary as fuck.

a little advice for aspiring fires by The Byger (Byacolate)  E, 42k, Complete.  Regardless of his sadly lacking social circle, Stiles was going to have to get some physical contact or he was going to explode. Seriously. It’d be messy and Derek would probably become even more emotionally constipated having to clean up little bits of Stiles from his pristine walls and furniture.

Touch-Starved, Skin Hunger, Omega Stiles, Sassy Stiles, stiles talks CONSTANTLY, Mpreg, Kidfic

But We're Still Sleeping Like We're Lovers by CharWright5  E, 110k, Complete  [No #mpreg].  There are several things Stiles Stilinski knows to be facts: he's a werecoyote like his parents; his twin sister Malia could use a filter more than him; he's an Omega and terrified of his upcoming heat; and Derek Hale-McCall will never see him as anything more than his kid brother's best friend. Doesn't stop Stiles from asking the Alpha to help him during his heat. Or from developing some serious feelings that go beyond the bedroom. Basically, he's totally screwed, in more ways than one.

Fox Stiles, Creature Stiles, he's not a fox, but when I'm cruising that tag, I'll like to read this story

Idiot boys. Hot sex. More idiot boys. Angst. Fluff.

Jurisdiction by elisera  M, 7k, Complete (series complete at 20k).  John is a pretty level-headed guy. He wasn’t always, back during his own Sturm und Drang period, but he married a firecracker of a woman and got a kid with an affinity for trouble like he got payed for ending up in it, so someone had to level out or they would’ve ended up living in a treehouse or Lapland doing god knows what. Anyway, getting a hold of his temper is one of John’s better life achievements. It makes him a good sheriff and it kept him from blowing his lid too badly those last two years when Stiles started acting out in a way that John had never seen before.  //  But the temper is still there.  //  He’s reminded of it when he comes home on a random Saturday in March after spilling his milkshake all over his uniform shirt only to notice he didn’t have a spare in the station and finds Stiles bend over the kitchen sink with hunched shoulders.

Papa Stilinski is a total badass and mmm mmmm mmmm, so is Derek. Stiles has got some awesome muscle looking out for his best interests.

Into Something New by marguerite_26  E, 9k, Complete.  [Implied Mpreg rather than #mpreg].  Something is happening to Stiles. He’s losing time. Something is messing with his head, with his body. Maybe if he felt better he’d think to be worried.

 Nowhere Man by 1lostone  E, 76k, Complete.  [Mpreg (off screen)]  When Stiles leaves Beacon Hills, he does it without a backwards glance. For two years he is happy on the other side of the country- until someone targets not only him, but his daughter.  //  Unfortunately, the asshole bodyguard his dad hired to make sure he gets back home is none other than Derek Hale. And that's really not very good for either of them.

1lostone is, as always, the goddess of the lengthy, painful, disturbing, angsty, violent, sexy story. God, I love it.

The Second Coming (of Werewolf Jesus) by lupinus, uraneia  E, 40k, Complete.  Stiles was enjoying his senior year until his crazy English teacher decided he made the best candidate to gestate Derek's kid. Now Stiles is a seventeen-year-old pregnant dude and he and Derek have to figure their shit out, because in nine months they are going to be tied together for the rest of their lives.

Sweet: very fluffy and domestic.

Pride and Place by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)  E, 63k, Complete.  (Part of series A/B/O bodice rippers) [Mpreg, Discussion of mpreg, no men were pregnant in the making of this fic].  Derek Hale, Earl of Osterbrook, has inherited, following the death of Lord Montfort, a run down house in Yorkshire he neither needs nor wants, convinced his staff are robbing him, and with the mystery of a missing ward, he manages to get himself talked into a ridiculous bet, that he cannot pass as a steward until Midwinter, nearly two months away. So can he maintain the charade? Find the missing child? and manage to turn the shambles of a house around, or will he give up and let Peter take the thousand pounds he bet.  //  now with explicit epilogue - the rest of the story is teen rated though, so if you don't like the idea of explicit sex in your bodice rippers - just don't read that bit.

Great story.

The Well of Living Waters by kalpurna  E, 30k, Complete.  King Derek takes a consort.

 Within His Power by NoBezel  E, 69k, Complete.  [Discussion of mpreg]  Derek is a wolfish cyborg, brother of the Governor of California, heir to the Hale fortune. Stiles is a un-sequenced human in a world of designer DNA. When Derek is forced to choose a mate, no one expects him to choose Stiles. To be fair, Derek doesn't expect him to say no.

Pretty fucking phenomenal. Lots of world-building and political intrigue. If you're in it for the tropes, you'll be disappointed, but otherwise it's intense and dense and lovely.

The Threat of Human Sacrifice by vampireisthenewblack  E, 45k, Complete.  The sheriff bought a crib and made Derek help him put it together. Stiles thought of Hemingway and the shortest, most heartbreaking story ever told, and dismantled it on his own while Derek was out.  //  [The one where Stiles getting knocked up is the least of his worries.]

So excellent and intense.

The Honey and the Sting by the_ragnarok  M, 19k, Complete (series still wip)  Derek didn't remember what happened when he went into heat. He could only assume the worst. The truth may be stranger than that.

Beautiful.

Tiny Houses by ohmyjetsabel  E, 77k, Complete.  "So this is what Stiles does. He lies in Scott’s bed and waits for Melissa to say she’s found someone to get it out of him, to cure him of the wrongness and the bad, and he dreams.  //  God, he dreams.  //  He dreams of fire and swollen bellies and that scene in Alien, of giving birth to jackals through his urethra, the whole horrific nine yards. His head is a terrible place to be, he can’t imagine his stomach is much better, why anyone would want to put a thing inside of it."

Fuck.

 Shifts by gryvon  E, 15k, Complete.  Stiles has what he's always secretly wanted - he's in a relationship with Derek and he's one of Derek's betas - but all that gets turned upside down when Gerard kidnaps him and his unexpected baby.

Who doesn't want Stiles having emotionally confusing sex with Derek, getting knocked up unbeknownst to either of them, and then kidnapped for the future baby? I mean, really. It's classic.

A Mating Moon by unpossible  E, 37k, Complete.  (Series 55k so far.) [this is not mpreg, just to be clear]  “Hey, Scott, so, I uh, there’s this amazingly hot guy and I’m uh, gonna spend the weekend with him but, you know, just to be careful, I’m sending you his picture, so if by some terrible chance my bloated corpse shows up sometime Monday, just, y’know pass this along to the authorities.” He pauses. “Uh. Kidding?” and then hangs up with a rush of air.  //  “That is the worst voicemail in the history of voicemails,” Derek says.

fucking fantastic

 (Once in a) Blue Moon by clarkoholic, skywardsmiles  E, 60k, Complete.  (Series 63k so far.)  Stiles and Derek are getting along, but they’re not a family, and they’re sure as hell not mates. Christ, they’re basically just two stupid guys who happened to get pregnant because of a full moon and sheer dumb luck.

Oh, the angst, the pining, the guilt, the blame, the anger. Total pain-fest while we watch Stiles nearly die from the burden of the pregnancy. Lovely sweet ending, of course.

Tried and Tested Series by dancinbutterfly  E, 53k, 12 works, Complete.  In which Derek has a sex emergency with unplanned results, Stiles could be the baby daddy on one of those horrible MTV pregnancy shows, Sheriff Stilinski takes in strays and life in Beacon Hills never has a dull moment, not even when things are calm.

Really wonderful series. Stopped at Part 11, so am waiting for updates. A good investment of time, even incomplete. ;D  //  [Huh, evidently I missed an update somewhere along the line!]

In the Solstice of our Hearts by ravingrevolution  E, 73k, Complete.  "You're not putting that up your butt," Scott told him flatly and Stiles couldn't stop the pissed off whine he made, but his friend continued. "Stiles, you can't put that up your butt, you know that. Your butt won't be ready for anything to go in it until-"  //  "Okay, okay!" he said, flailing his hands to stop his friend's lecture. "Message received, no butt stuff until I'm pounced on by some freaking animal in the forest and ravished to within an inch of my life. Got it. Thanks, Scotty, I mean heaven forbid I actually try to take control of my life and give myself a fighting chance or anything."  //  "Not all alphas are animals," Scott said quietly.  //  Maybe he was right, but Stiles wasn't holding his breath.

Omega Stiles, Berserk Stiles, omega beast, everyone's a virgin, Hurt/Comfort, care taking

The one where there's a Mate Run in the woods, and Derek with his pack manage to frighten Stiles up a tree from whence he falls and is impaled on a branch (ouch!) and then they spend a week in a cave while Stiles heals. Meanwhile, Kate and her cronies are sneaking into the month-long Mate Run with the intent to a)finally kill Derek and b) sneakily bond with some omegas. So Stiles goes berserk, which is the omega form of a hulking violence monster, to protect Derek. (Story could have stopped there, but carries on for another 1/3.)

[disarmingly]

kiribaku drabble for yuna <3 thank you for kofi i hope this is ok it’s very subtle but.....eijkflsdjfklsd 

* "but why?" the thing about bakugou katsuki is actually more than one thing; in fact it's so many things that it bears setting aside more time than most people have the patience for, bakugou himself included. so to make it simpler, maybe it should be put as such: one of the things about bakugou katsuki is that he's smarter than he looks. off hand the people who know this unintentionally well guarded truth include but are probably not limited to: aizawa shouta, midoriya izuku, uraraka ochako, and of course kirishima eijirou. it's the last of these bakugou happens to be speaking with right now across the scruffy head of a thoroughly rumpled calico cat. kirishima beams. "the strays are up in numbers," he has the cat in one curiously gentle hand, busy gesturing with the other. the blank look bakugou gives him isn't because he doesn't understand; it isn't even because he doesn't care. it's because he doesn't know what he thinks about it or feels about it, and isn't altogether certain he's going to spend enough time on it to figure that out. this, kirishima knows, so he just keeps talking. says, "i named this one katsuki." bakugou has no time to implement the mild ire he feels at that open abuse of his name before kirishima shoves 'katsuki' into his face. 

* he doesn't mean to help. they have other things to be doing; training for one, and anything else for another. but kirishima is a person bakugou finds himself spending time with more than others and not absolutely hating it. he's not sure that he likes it but everything is relative and if he's going to end up spending the bulk of the day with kirishima training anyway, starting it off throwing cat food into a handful of alleys isn't a huge price to pay. this is how he ends up spending more time with katsuki, who over the course of a week graduates from ankle twining to shin rubbing to shoulder riding in no time. bakugou can't be bothered to displace him, and his name twin always seems to know when it's time for him to jet because he jumps down soundless and smart, gives one last passing rub for the day, and darts off. kirishima always waves goodbye, says stuff like 'see you tomorrow'. if he was a different kind of person, bakugou would call that cute. but he's not a different kind of person, so what he calls it is nothing one way or the other. at any rate, it's true; they do see katsuki 'tomorrow'. * when he's not yelling at people (usually deku but in bakugou's opinion it's never unwarranted) bakugou is actually fairly quiet. it's kirishima who points this out to him one day, and it's funny because as per usual, bakugou hadn't given it much thought in either direction -- his mind a goal oriented tunnel vision sort of place bit and bridled with the occupation of Hero. "don't mind him," kirishima pets a massive gray alley cat. bakugou can hear its rumbling purr and he's at least fifteen feet away. "he's a pretty quiet guy," then kirishima laughs loud young and bright. bakugou doesn't understand why. "unless he's mad at you." kirishima laughs again. and maybe bakugou was actually going to say something about that but a bright orange cat butts its head against his leg and he finds himself otherwise occupied for a while -- this fluffy stray half biting the treats in his palm and half just biting his palm. he complains the whole time but doesn't move his hand away until the cat is done. * the orange cat finds them again the next day and the next and the next. katsuki seems to get along with him. "that one's eijirou," bakugou says, jerking his thumb toward the orange one. "why's that?" kirishima's smile seems a little softer than usual. bakugou starts to walk away, shrugging. "he just is." * in battle, bakugou is more comfortable saying he understands certain things -- people for instance. kirishima in battle is infinitely less confusing to him than kirishima on the sidewalk as the sun rises through the narrow pathways of the city buildings, crouched low and making friendly conversation with their unofficial colony of strays. 'their'. bakugou blinks the thought away...well, tries. isn't very successful. it shouldn't matter. that's what bakugou tells himself as he shoves his hands deeper into his pockets and shifts his weight from foot to foot and definitely does not stare at kirishima just straight up being himself the way he always is the way bakugou knew very early on he was is was is is is. and that. it's that maybe. because there are people who are so very themselves and bakugou respects them even while he can't stand certain things about them even while some of him wants that sometimes too -- all might and deku top that list, certainly. but kirishima isn't that; he's...this: very himself but somehow a self bakugou isn't working like a lit fuse around. he doesn't feel the inconvenient urgency to...whatever. compete? outrun? outdo? he doesn't even know the word. but it's exhausting even while it's also kind of a form of purpose and bakugou was never the kind of person to say he needed friends so much as followers but he's also not the kid he was. or rather, he is, but he's also other things. "that's just growing up," his mother tells him sometimes, unprompted and uncalled for and he does his best to ignore it even if it's true. kirishima isn't a hurdle. and he's not a follower. and he's not a toleration. kirishima is... "ready?" bakugou blinks. kirishima has his hand extended down to where bakugou has been crouched so long his legs are cramping. "uh," bakugou's hand half raises because he's not done deciding what to do. kirishima takes it anyway. * when people say they don't know how kirishima ~does it~, he replies one of two ways: laughs and moves on or, rarely, will turn to them and say, "what do you mean?" because people make all kinds of assumptions about bakugou but they can't ever seem to align those assumptions with how much kirishima genuinely likes him. which is where these questions come from: how do you do it, how do you stand it, etc, etc, etc. if he thought it was his place to change peoples' minds, his answer could be longer. kirishima has real answers to give, no mistake. but the truth is that it's not up to him to shift the world's view on bakugou katsuki. it's up to bakugou. and he'll be damned if he'd ever undermine that. so kirishima gives an answer that's just as true but not nearly so inflammatory, says, smile full and sharp, "he's my friend." * "he's my friend," he's telling a stray they've not seen before. this one is much smaller than usual, a muddy tabby that has bright green eyes and keeps trying to sneak forward for food only to back up the second one of them turns their head in its direction. "don't be scared."  

huffing, bakugou pointedly turns his back on them, arms folding; and if kirishima points it out later fondly, he’ll ignore him. since his back remains turned, he misses the sheepish and charmed smile on kirishima's face, as well as the cat dashing forward to inhale the food before darting away. *

[tisfan]

Of all the Lord’s Creations

Title: Of All the Lord’s Creations Collaborator: @27dragons & @tisfan Link: AO3 Square Filled: B2 - Wing Kink Ship: Bucky/Tony Rating: E Major Tags: sin and temptation, angels AU, demons AU, a wide variety of semi-accurate christian mythology, and also some very inaccurate stuff, the authors are going to hell, angel!Bucky, demon!Tony, oral sex, frottage, tail and wing play, Gabriel’s kinda a dick Summary: Tony's pretty sure that corrupting an angel will get him back into Lucifer's good graces, and Bucky's gorgeous enough that seducing him won't even be a hardship. Bucky's on Earth to do good, which is what he was made for, but it's a little lonely. Surely it couldn't hurt just to *talk* to the fascinating demon that he happens to meet... Word Count: 11,457 Created for @mcukinkbingo

Tony was going to be in trouble soon, if he wasn’t already. In very hot water -- and in Tony’s case, that might be literal, if the Boss was peeved enough.

He’d lost his taste for partying and booze and drugs, and that was fine -- it was getting harder and harder to really corrupt someone with those anyway, and he’d landed a cushy gig inspiring weapons makers to newer and greater heights, destroying souls by the thousands, tens of thousands.

But it was so hands-off. So distasteful. He’d fallen down on that job, too.

And worst of all, he’d actually saved that child, the other week. So he had a soft spot for children. Sue him.

But it all added up to one thing: he had to earn some points with the Boss, and soon.

Pepper, his lesser demonic cohort (she refused to accept minion as her designation, and that was only fair really) consulted a clipboard. “I have it, Tony,” she said. “There’s a kid, out in Queens, he grows up to be a superhero; Clotho is all over that… We could corrupt him, that’d be… that’d be big. I mean, just think what a new supervillain on the scene would be worth.”

Tony glared at her. “Do I even know you?”

Pepper scowled. “Um, well, there’s that scandal,” she suggested. “The one we’ve all been sitting on, those letters for the potential saint, Margaret Carter? We could release those, put a real wrench in her canonization.”

“Ehhh. I don’t think they’re going to be enough to stop it. Just slow it down a little.”

“How about this, then--” Pepper thumbed through the Infernal News and Reports. “It’s a toughie. Maybe it’s just what you need, something to really sink your teeth into.”

Tony licked at his fangs. “Maybe. What’ve you got?”

“There’s an angel, on earth,” Pepper said. “He’s in trouble, halo’s a little bent. Gabriel’s dumped him in New York City, with instructions to do some major miracle work. But you know how angels are… lotta faith, very little street smarts.”

Tony sat up straight. “You’re shitting me. Seriously, an angel?” There hadn’t been a new Fallen in centuries. Corrupting an angel would cover Tony with glory. So to speak. “New York City, hm?” He grinned. “Now that. That is a worthy job. Get the relocation paperwork going, but keep it on the down-low. I don’t want anyone else muscling in before I get my turn.”

The problem with miracles is that they required faith. Faith, not proof.

There were a lot of things that Bucky could do… the loaves and fishes trick had always been popular.

Even though there wasn’t actually a food shortage on the planet these days. More like a supply problem, and it was beyond even Bucky’s ability to miracle his way through red tape.

So far, he’d been reduced to influencing luck. Which was, honestly, shitty miracle work. A homeless guy tripping over a winning lottery ticket didn’t praise or thank the Lord. In fact -- Bucky sighed -- they usually ended up in worse trouble.

Humans could only see him at all if they had high faith, or when he was in a human vessel. So, every morning, Bucky slipped into his vessel and tried to figure a way to get back into the Lord’s good Graces. Working at the soup kitchen wasn’t glamorous, but it did let him slip in some minor miracles; increasing the amount of soup, making what soups they did have more nourishing. A little healing touch, here and there. New York City had some of the nicest fall weather in a long time, letting the homeless stay warmer, longer.

It wasn’t much, but Bucky was still waiting for some Divine Inspiration.

If nothing else, earth was at least more interesting than Heaven. He didn’t much miss it, although he sometimes missed being able to talk to someone who actually knew who he was. Humans… didn’t listen. They just sort of waited for their turn to talk.

It was dark by the time Bucky left the soup kitchen, and as he crossed the street, a dark, slender figure detached itself from the alley wall. “Hey there, angelface.”

Bucky squinted into the darkness; the shadows seemed to cling to the stranger with loving hands. “The Lord be with you, friend,” Bucky said. It was a good, solid earth greeting. Those with no faith would rapidly make their excuses to be elsewhere, and those with faith would find a few moments with a comforting ear.

“I very much doubt it,” the stranger said as he took another step closer to Bucky. The shadows spread behind him like stretching wings. “Going my way?”

(more below the cut)

There was something about the stranger that sent a shiver down Bucky’s spine. He’d obviously been associating with humans too often if one could cause such a reaction. He took a step closer, trying to see the face behind the shadow. He couldn’t, which was odd. Absently, Bucky plucked his halo out of the pocket of the coat he wore; not like he got cold, but the pockets were useful.

To human eyes, Bucky would have merely run a hand through his hair. In truth, his halo was a bit lopsided, tilted at a rakish angle over his left eye, and pretty badly dinged up. It didn’t shine as much as it used to. Bucky blamed the Internet. Heaven was just so boring, and when he got caught sneaking down to earth from time to time -- he was almost current with Game of Thrones -- he got an angelic time out.

Seen with Heavenly light, the stranger’s face--

--was not at all human, under the human vessel he wore. The demon was beautiful, despite the shattered remains of his halo that made up what humans saw as horns, and the devastation of his wings. His face was angular and long, his beard trimmed into a neat, sharp point, his eyes deceptively warm and welcoming, his smile -- what else? -- wicked. “Ah, there you are,” he purred, and eyed Bucky’s halo and wings with a hungry expression. “That poor thing’s about to Fall,” he added. “You might want to have a friend ready to catch it.”

“I’m fine, thanks for your concern,” Bucky said, a little stiffly. It wasn’t his fault that Steve had been promoted years ago, and that Bucky didn’t really have any friends left. Steve tried to visit, as often as he could, but seraphim had busy schedules. He eyed the demon, curious. “I didn’t know they let your kind out of Hell.” He took a step closer, fascinated. The wings were short, stubby things that protruded out of the creature’s back, but he’d heard rumors that they had… oh, there it was, curled around the demon’s leg. A tail, long and as swift-moving as a cat’s. Bucky had a sudden urge to touch it.

“Aw, now, don’t be like that,” the demon said. “Of course they let me out. I’m Fallen, not damned.” He smiled again, charming and surprisingly sweet.

Bucky was a relatively young angel; the War had been long over before he’d come into existence. He’d never actually seen a Fallen, before, much less spoken to one. “Did it hurt,” Bucky wondered, “when you Fell?”

The demon laughed outright, and it didn’t sound evil or condescending, just... happy. “All right, you win that round,” he said after a moment, still chuckling around the words. “It’s been a long time since someone surprised me like that.” His head tipped, just a little, showing off a long throat. “Come and have a drink with me, angel. It gets lonely here, with only humans around.”

Well, Bucky could agree with that. It’d been a while since he’d had anyone to talk to. Gabriel totally didn’t count. The archangel just showed up to sneer and scold. Bucky wasn’t supposed to socialize with demons, but… he had to admit, he was curious. And Bucky was tough; of the line of Samael, who once wrestled a human during the entire night. He absolutely wasn’t afraid. “Do you have a name that I might call you?”

“Call me Tony,” said the demon. “And who are you?”

“Tony,” Bucky said, tasting the word, sounding it out, figuring the flavor and all the meanings. Layers of power, in a name. Except this one was obscured, the meaning lost. Bucky grappled for it, and it faded. He couldn’t hold it, there was no way for him to grip the name, to have any control over the demon. He was strong, then. Ancient. He hesitated over giving his own name, but it would be rude. And Bucky wasn’t scared of a demon. The Lord was on his side. Theoretically, at least. Bucky’d never actually met Him, either. “It’s Bucky. My… my name is Bucky.”

“Bucky.” Tony smiled. “So delighted to meet you, Bucky.” He tucked his arm through Bucky’s and gently tugged, leading the way up the street, toward a bar. “This will be the first proper conversation I’ve had since I got here.” He sounded thoroughly happy about it, and his tail... his tail was curling gently around Bucky’s calf.

“Oh!” Bucky shivered again, and… with a crack like a whip, his wings stretching out to their full span, involuntarily, the feathers spreading protectively. “Oh, that’s your… I’m sorry, I… you startled me.” Bucky’s skin felt strange, tingly, from where the tail had touched him, and then his neck got too warm, and his cheeks were heated, and his tongue felt a little too large for his mouth, awkward and thick. He fanned himself with his wings, cooling his overheated skin, and then pulling them in tight, folded against his back.

“Hm? Oh, sorry, gorgeous.” Tony grabbed his tail and dragged it away from Bucky with both hands. “It has a mind of its own, sometimes. Though I must say it’s got excellent taste.” Tony watched Bucky’s wings until they were folded away again, then tore his gaze up to Bucky’s face. “Let’s get that drink, shall we?” He pushed open the door to the bar.

It was dark inside, lit with low, neon lights and the occasional strobe from the dance floor. The music was loud, the place crowded. The crowds parted for Tony like the sea before Moses, though, until they wound up in a smaller, somewhat quieter space to one side, plush and luxurious. Tony folded onto the well-padded bench seat, and patted the space beside him invitingly.

It wasn’t hard to follow, the demon’s tail wasn’t the only interesting thing about the view from behind. Bucky found himself staring, and not even knowing why, just that the demon…

...represented the ultimate temptation.

Bucky would do well to remember that. He took the seat across from Tony, instead. Not that it was much better, their legs bumping under the table, and the demon’s mobile mouth drawing Bucky’s gaze instead. “How… have you been on earth, long?”

“It seems like forever,” Tony sighed. “How about you, Bucky? I understand you’re fairly new here.”

“Well, I used to sneak down, sometimes, too,” Bucky admitted. “So… two weeks, plus an hour here and there. Usually to watch television.” He couldn’t help the shy smile that crossed his lips. The very few conversations he’d had that humans responded to favorably, had been about shows. “Some of the older angels, they have access to human entertainment, but… our guardian doesn’t allow it. It’s bad for us, keeps our thoughts away from the Lord.” Bucky puffed out a breath, absently grabbed hold of his pinion feathers and ran his fingers over them. A nervous habit.

“Oh, I knew you’d be good to talk to,” Tony said. “I love TV, and we don’t get most of it, you know, Downstairs. What shows do you like?”

“Oh, anything with old-fashioned fighting,” Bucky said, dreamily. “Swords and massive armies and honor. Humans don’t fight that way, anymore. It’s a shame, really.” Of course, that wasn’t the only reason he watched those shows; humans were so… very physical, both in love and in war.

Bucky found himself leaning across the table, as the night went on. Drinks were brought, consumed, paid for. Tony talked, and listened. He shared insights, and his sense of humor was delightfully wicked, pointedly observant, and he was quick with a clever phrase. Bucky wasn’t even sure that he noticed when Tony’s tail had stopped playfully teasing at Bucky’s calf and was, instead, laying in Bucky’s lap, letting itself be petted like a cat.

He barely noticed the passing of time at all, until the bar started to close down, and they were given the same speech as the rest of the humans that is was time to leave.

“Well,” Bucky said, as they staggered out onto the street, human vessels dizzy with alcohol, “this was… educational.”

“It was marvelous,” Tony enthused. “Thank you so much for spending the evening with me.” He hesitated. “I wonder if I could... well, it’s a silly thing, really, but it would mean a lot to me.”

“Hmm? What’s that?” The stars were spinning in the sky. Bucky could focus on an individual star, far away, and see the planets that went around it. Fascinating. “I’m listening, go on.”

Tony smiled a self-deprecating little smile. “Could I just... touch your wings? I miss mine so much.”

“What? Oh… yeah, I… sure,” Bucky stammered. No one touched wings, it just… wasn’t done. Sometimes, Bucky couldn’t help it, in a crowded area, it was hard to avoid brushing another angel’s wings, but it wasn’t a deliberate act. It was almost like touching someone’s halo, the very symbol of their relationship with the Lord.

But he’d been petting Tony’s tail all night and it seemed somehow… snobby, almost priggish, not to allow him the liberty.

Bucky spread, his wings unfolding gently. As dark as it was, now, they gave off their own, soft light. A little hop up, and the Grace took hold. Bucky hovered, a few inches over the ground, toes pointing down and all the weight of the human vessel falling away.

Tony just stared up at him for a long minute, his eyes liquid and wide. “You really are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured. He stepped forward until his body was all but pressed against Bucky’s, and he looked up into Bucky’s face as he reached over Bucky’s shoulders to lightly caress the thick feathers. “Oh, that feels...”

He’d never felt anything like it; each stroke of Tony’s fingers sent spirals of sensation down his wings, into his very flesh. Bucky reared back, startled at how… good it felt, how soft and how soothing, and yet, it burned in him, like fire. His wings arched out, shuddered all over, and then, instinctively, he mantled, pulling Tony in close and covering them both with the protective shell. Inside, drenched in the holy light of Bucky’s wings, in the perfect Grace of his halo, Tony was the most beautiful thing Bucky had ever seen.

“Oh! Oh!” Bucky wasn’t sure what to do, everything seemed very… awkward.

Tony’s tail ruffled the feathers enclosing them, and that sent delicious sparks through Bucky’s body. “Bucky,” Tony murmured, “let me kiss you?” He lifted up onto his toes, his head tipped back, until his breath spilled over Bucky’s lips. Bucky wanted, wanted something that he couldn’t name, but Tony was hesitating, waiting.

“I don’t… I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” Bucky whispered. But surrounded by the heat and scent of the demon, Bucky couldn’t remember why it was a bad idea. It certainly sounded interesting. His mouth tingled, and he licked his lip. He remembered watching dozens of kisses on television, each time he would pluck at his pinions and shiver with delight. They seemed to enjoy it, so much. And Bucky had rarely so much as touched another angel. Sometimes, very close friends would touch fingertips or palms and even that seemed… greatly daring. Angels didn’t have bodies, except to serve the Lord.

Well, if his body’s purpose was only to serve the Lord, maybe this would be the way, Bucky thought, suddenly. “Yes, why don’t you do that,” he suggested. “Kiss me.”

Tony’s mouth touched Bucky’s, and it wasn’t at all like he had imagined, watching humans kiss on the television. It was so much more, the gentle brush of skin on skin and the warmth of Tony’s breath and the scent of him and the taste, somehow, of the drinks they’d consumed but also something more, something indescribably sweet and maybe a little sad. Oh, and Tony’s hands were still in Bucky’s wings, deeper now, curling around the shafts and stroking them.

Bucky didn’t know what to do, he really did not, and it was so good, and so wicked, and Gabriel would be so angry, and… Bucky wrenched his mouth away, panting for breath, wings shuddering all over, and his halo was glowing. “Tony, wait, no,” Bucky said, and he tried to back up, but Tony’s hands were still on him and he didn’t want to hurt Tony, didn’t want to… didn’t really want to stop, but he should. He really, really should. Resolve wavered in him, and then solidified. “Tony, wait, I need… I need you to stop.”

Tony didn’t stop for a few seconds longer, and then he pulled away, looking hurt and confused. “What’s wrong? Did it-- did I hurt you?”

“No, no, it didn’t hurt,” Bucky reassured him, hastily, and he realized he was still holding Tony in, wings still sheltering them both. “You didn’t hurt me. I’m… you… I…” He pulled his wings back, slowly. Let himself touch the ground, and all the weight and burden that came with it, drawing up his human vessel and letting the light from his halo flicker, putting it back in his pocket. “This… this isn’t what I came to earth to do. Not… I’m an angel. This… you… I’m here to help people.” He couldn’t help it, brushed the very tip of his wing down the side of Tony’s face before he tucked it away.

“There’s no one here who needs help right now,” Tony said, swaying toward Bucky. Then his eyes widened. “It’s because I’m Fallen, isn’t it?” His tail snapped back, away from where it had been curling up the side of Bucky’s leg again. “I must be repulsive to you.”

“No, no,” Bucky protested. “You’re not. I promise. You’re so… lovely. Interesting.” Bucky found himself twisting his feathers again, hard enough to hurt, hard enough to bend the delicate vanes. He squeaked, let go of his wing and patted at it, soothingly. “It’s me, I’m… this.” It’s wrong, it’s sin, it’s… selfish. Bucky berated himself. “I need to go. This was… incredible. I’ll treasure… I have to go.”

Bucky gripped his halo and willed himself to the small sanctuary he’d claimed, holy ground. Home. An abandoned church that had never been deconsecrated. Where he could rest and hide. And pray.

Even if he didn’t know what he was praying for.    

Tony made his way back to the bar, long closed now, and made himself at home in the VIP lounge. So much sin in this place -- lust and greed and intemperance and pride. Occasional splashes of hatred and disobedience and idolatry, for flavor. It was such a delicious place.

And Tony’d had such a wonderful evening. He’d lured the angel as far as a kiss, already. The whole thing would barely take any time at all.

Bucky. Such a sweet name, such a trusting creature to give it to an old demon like Tony. It was a name that tasted of strength, and of youth. Bucky was too young to have known the War -- did it hurt, indeed!

Sweet, naive creature. He’d even let Tony touch his feathers -- bittersweet, that; he hadn’t lied about missing his own wings. Tony could almost feel bad for what he was going to do to the angel. Almost.

The next night, he made his way through the shadows to the building where Bucky worked his small miracles. Tony wondered if those miracles had stuttered, when Bucky thought about Tony’s lips on his.

Bucky was late coming out, later than before, and Tony smiled, imagining Bucky debating whether he should emerge at all. Whether he hoped to see Tony again, or dreaded it. Tony waited patiently for the inevitable.

When Bucky finally came out, Tony stepped into his path. “Angel.”

Tony had seen Bucky in all his glory and grace -- well, the human version. Some angels could become wheels within wheels, the size of buildings in their magnificence, but Bucky didn’t seem like that sort. And yet, he was utterly unprepared for the young angel to smile at him. Bucky’s whole face lit up, not a holy glow, or even the mysterious angelic phosphorus of Bucky’s wings, but just… joy. There wasn’t an ounce of deception in the celestial nature, so he couldn’t be lying, even with something as simple as a smile.

Bucky was, quite honestly, happy to see him.

“Tony,” Bucky exclaimed, and held out his hands in a greeting, inviting Tony to touch his palm.

It wasn’t a kiss, but it was fairly intimate, for angels -- a gesture for kin and close friends. Equals. Tony touched his palm to Bucky’s in the ancient greeting, then curled his fingers around Bucky’s, squeezing a little. “I’m glad to see you, Bucky.” Tony couldn’t control an angel with their name the way he could a human, but it still set up a resonance that Bucky would feel, each time Tony said it.

“I am gladdened to see you, too,” Bucky said. “It’s been a very exciting day. I might have overdone it a little. Come on, let’s go, before anyone else sees me.” He laughed, light and pleasant and actually bumped Tony’s shoulder with his own, the edges of his wing brushing against Tony’s neck and side. “There’s got to be something we can do, yes? I haven’t seen much of the city, really, and I’m just... excited. Oh!” He grabbed Tony’s hand and pulled him down a side road. “Reporter! Mustn’t get caught, you know. Faith, not proof. Can you fly?”

Tony couldn’t precisely fly, but he could be anywhere he wanted to be if he concentrated hard enough. “No,” he said, and let his lips pull into a teasing smile. “Are you going to carry me?”

“If you wish it,” Bucky said. He considered Tony for a long moment, hiding in the mouth of some filthy alley, and then, “here, turn ‘round, like… oh, these really look terribly painful, I’m so sorry.” Bucky brushed his fingers over the stumps of Tony’s wings. There was a surge of light and Tony felt an angel’s Grace touch him for the first time in centuries, millennia, since the War. “Hold on.”

To what?

Bucky slid his arms around Tony’s chest and lifted him. An angel in flight could only be seen by the purest of men, the most holy, the most faithful. Young children, sometimes. And cats. Who were entirely unimpressed with angels and demons alike.

Bucky’s Grace ached through Tony’s bones, but it was worth the pain to look down from an angel’s vantage again. To feel Bucky’s breath spilling over his head. To feel Bucky’s chest pressed against his back, even if it stretched Tony’s wing stumps unbearably. Pain was nothing new, but it had been millennia, aeons, since Tony had flown simply for the joy of it, and his eyes filled with tears at the simple beauty. It took him a moment to catch his breath. “Thank you,” he whispered, and it could be sincere and part of the seduction at the same time; it could.

Tony couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt true gratitude, unburdened by the weight of expectation or debt.

“Oh, look, there’s a good one,” Bucky said, and he swirled through the air until he deposited Tony on a cloud, light and fluffy and full of warmth. That was decidedly an angel’s trick, and nothing that Tony could have managed, making a solid landing place above the human world where they could look down and see, and yet remain concealed. Bucky laughed, spread his wings out and laid down on them like they were a blanket, staring up into the sky. “Don’t let go, you’ll fall.” He kept one hand outstretched for Tony to take. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, that was terribly rude of me to say. Please, forgive it.”

“I’m afraid I’m not in the forgiving business,” Tony said, but he grinned and winked as he said it so Bucky would know it was a joke. Even if it was also deadly serious. He kept hold of Bucky’s hand, and curled his tail around Bucky’s leg as well, for good measure. “You’re in a good mood today. Do angelic vessels not get hangovers?”

Bucky blushed, pretty and pink. “I Healed someone, today. I was… well, I was happy, and I touched her, and she could see. She looked up in my face and she Saw me. We had to call the… the little truck that comes, and she wanted me to come with her, to see the doctor. He thinks I shocked her, like a little tiny lightning bolt, and it pushed her nerves back into working order. I don’t know, humans are silly sometimes, in their quest for Answers. And then-- then someone heard about it, and he came down to the kitchen with a big check, and that’ll just do so much good, Tony, it’s very exciting!”

Tony stared at Bucky in shock. He’d tempted an angel into sin -- not much of it, but a little! -- and the next day the angel had done more good? Inspired more faith?

That was not what Tony had planned. Damn it (literally), if word of this got back Downstairs before Tony made good on his promise to corrupt Bucky, the Boss was going to be so pissed.

Okay. Okay. No panicking. This wasn’t unrecoverable. Tony could use this.

Bucky was still holding his hand, after all.

“Maybe kissing is good for you,” Tony said, keeping it light.

“Maybe,” Bucky agreed. He eyed Tony through long lashes. “I prayed about it, you know.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “Did you? And did you get an answer?”

“I did,” Bucky said. He rolled up onto his side, leaning on his elbow to stare lazily at Tony. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Do you want to know what He said?”

How long had it been since Tony had heard the Lord’s voice and known His Will? “Tell me.”

“He said I should always repay that which I owe,” Bucky said. He reached out, fingers trembling, and he touched Tony’s face. “You gave me a kiss. Should I give you one back?”

Tony laid back, letting Bucky lean over him. “I would like that,” he said honestly. Bucky’s kiss had been so sweet... And if the Lord was actually telling Bucky to kiss Tony back, then Tony would eat his own tail.

The first kiss Bucky gave him was not on his mouth, or his forehead, but instead, Bucky touched his lips to the palm of Tony’s hand, a sudden, searing agony of a kiss, so full of Grace that it burned Tony’s flesh. Like a Holy wafer, like blessed water, and yet, even in the middle of pain, it went right through him. It warmed every inch of him -- a demon, who’d been to Hell, who knew intimately the fires of Lucifer -- in ways that he’d never imagined. Like he’d been cold and not known it, like he’d been scared and was now protected. Like he’d been alone, and was now home.

When Bucky pulled away, Tony was gasping for breath, tears streaming from his eyes. “What... What was that?”

“Oh!” Bucky turned Tony’s palm. “I…” He ducked his chin a little, embarrased. “I told you, I’m overdoing it today.” Clear as sunlight, right in the middle of Tony’s palm, where Bucky’s lips had touched… was Bucky’s Name. Written in angelic script. It glowed, soft as starlight.

“What...” Tony touched the name with his own fingers, feeling the way it sparked and sizzled under his skin. Beelzebub’s left tit, this was getting out of hand. Tony needed to get this back on track, and fast. “Bucky,” he whispered, and watched the Name on his skin flash and glow. “How?”

“I… uh, I don’t know?” Bucky ran his fingertip over it. “I’m sorry, does it hurt? I didn’t… I won’t do it again.” He carefully, tenderly, folded Tony’s fingers closed, like a mother giving a child a kiss to save. “I certainly won’t do it to your face, I like your face just the way it is.” And he leaned in to kiss Tony’s mouth.

For a long, sweet moment, it was nothing but pressure, warm and willing, but unlearned. Bucky let out a faint breath, and then his tongue slid out, traced the crease of Tony’s mouth with timid, but eager licks. Tony had kissed more humans than he could conveniently count, and more than a  good sized number of the Fallen. And he was discovering that they were all nothing, by comparison. That a little baby peck from an angel who’d never so much as been touched before was reaching places inside Tony that he’d thought sealed and locked and gone and forgotten. Bucky hadn’t closed his eyes, as if he didn’t know he was supposed to, or if he was so fascinated by Tony that he didn’t want to, and there was a hunger in those brilliant blue eyes, the same color as storm clouds.

As if Bucky might Fall, for no other reason than to be with Tony. As if he needed something from Tony, something no one else could ever, ever give him. More precious than faith, more rare than Grace. Bucky needed him, wanted him, with a fervor that was… humbling.

Tony cupped Bucky’s face in one hand and kissed him again, slow and thorough, mapping Bucky’s mouth and giving in to the temptation to roll his body up against Bucky’s, to feel that strength, to test the depth of that desire.

Bucky made a soft, humming sound, licked at Tony’s mouth again, and then drew back to look at him. “What… what are we doing?” He didn’t seem angry, or afraid, just curious, and his fingers twitched out again, traced along Tony’s bottom lip, leaving tingles in their wake. Those fingers slid up the side of Tony’s face, and then hesitated, right over the edge of his hair, hovering near the jagged edges of Tony’s horns; the remains of his halo.

Tony tipped his head, stropping his horn against Bucky’s hand like a cat might, if a cat had horns. It ached a little; Tony’s horns were sensitive from a wound that couldn’t be healed. But it also felt good, that bright, singing sensation that was the constant presence of Bucky’s Grace. “We’re...” He paused, considering it. He didn’t want to frighten Bucky away again, or make Bucky angry. “We’re making love.” That’s what the humans called it, even when there was nothing as pure as love about it.

“We are?” The seemed to delight the angel and that soft, sweet smile grew even brighter. “I didn’t know. We’re… creating it?” Bucky quivered against him, like a bowstring pulled taut. “Will I be able to see it? Will you show it to me?” He was caressing Tony’s horns the whole time, as mindlessly and guilelessly as he’d patted Tony’s tail; the innocence of a creature that hadn’t yet learned that some things bite.

There, that was the permission Tony had wanted, the crack in the angel’s armor that would let Tony’s corruption in. That was what he had needed. He should feel triumphant, but all he could feel in the moment was a sense of awe, that Bucky would trust him so completely, chased with a hint of something like sorrow -- pity, that Bucky was going to learn such a hard lesson, so harshly.

Not enough to stop him, though. He put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and pushed gently until Bucky was laid back on those glorious wings again, and Tony was leaning over him. “I’ll show you,” he promised, and he kissed Bucky’s mouth, Bucky’s cheek and jaw, drawing on all his skill to read Bucky’s responses and react to them. If Bucky was going to Fall, then Tony would give him something worth remembering. “Don’t be afraid,” he murmured into Bucky’s ear, and licked the shell of it.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Bucky said. He leaned into Tony’s kiss with eagerness. “You won’t hurt me.” When Tony pulled back to gauge Bucky’s reactions, Bucky repeated the kisses, exploring Tony’s ear, nipping at the lobe, and letting his breath warm the damp skin. “You won’t hurt me.” His hands roamed aimlessly around, Tony’s shoulders, his back, along his throat; a blind man trying to discover the face of God. Each touch, so clearly innocent and unaware of the fire he was building, was like a gift.

That trust was searing itself into Tony’s skin with each soft touch. “No,” Tony agreed. “I won’t. I’m going to do the very opposite of that.” He nuzzled in to kiss Bucky’s throat, licking and nibbling gently, and stroked his hands over Bucky’s wings, tugging softly at the primaries and secondaries, ruffling through the smaller feathers, letting himself imagine how it would have felt, when his own wings had been whole.

Bucky shimmered under Tony’s hands, his human vessel dropping away to reveal the angel, unhidden and bright. The earth-style clothing melted away until all that was under Tony’s hands were billowing, white robes. A golden belt around his waist and a golden collar around his neck held them closed, gave his wings a whole back panel to spread through. Not that it mattered, an angel’s wings could only be held down by sin. It was the nature of things. Bucky mantled again, as Tony kissed his throat, tucking Tony into that safe, white shell.

Without the human mask, Bucky was even more beautiful, his Grace mirrored on a perfect face. Soft, full lips framed a glorious, eager smile. His eyes were the blue of stormclouds at sea, dusted at the corners with laugh lines, and fringed with thick lashes. Strong chin, sharp perfect cheekbones. A thousand master painters could have struggled for a thousand years and never created anything so beautiful. And yet, that same face turned in Tony’s direction and all Tony could see was the reflection of himself, in Bucky’s eyes.

Tony knew that Bucky could see through his human disguise, had already seen Tony’s demon shape, scarred and disfigured by the Fall. But it still took an act of will to drop his vessel and reveal himself, in the face of Bucky’s perfection. He pushed aside the masks and met Bucky’s gaze with stubborn pride. He had earned his scars and his blackened stumps. Let the angel look, if he would.

But Bucky’s eyes held no pity, only curiosity and warmth and burgeoning desire. Tony took a breath, and another. He put his hand on Bucky’s chest, over that robe, whiter than the cloud they rested on, and felt Bucky’s heart racing underneath. “You’re so beautiful,” Tony said, and let the wonder of it fill him. “Are you sure?”

“Only the Lord, or fools, are ever certain,” Bucky said.”You are as distant and beautiful as the stars, and as unique as a single snowflake, ephemeral in your perfection. How many angels would dance on the head of a pin? Only one, if you will dance with me. I am not certain. I am not sure. But I am willing, and I want this. Show me love, Tony.”

Tony laughed. “As you say, angel.” He kissed Bucky’s throat, around the edge of that collar, then unfastened it and set it aside, letting Bucky’s robes fall open to reveal his chest, muscled and smooth. Tony dragged his mouth over that skin, sweet and warm, licked and kissed and nipped and sucked until Bucky was arching into each touch.

Bucky squirmed and writhed, made soft, kitten noises in his throat. His hands opened and closed on Tony’s shoulders, sometimes stroking his skin, sometimes just holding on. “I don’t… I don’t…” he gasped. “Oh, Tony… I…” If Bucky was human, Tony would have said that his legs went ‘round Tony’s hips instinctively, but angels shouldn’t have those sorts of instincts. They didn’t mate like humans, and it was only in mockery and mimicry of humans that demons learned those things.

But Bucky was as pure in love and as eager in learning as he was in everything else. When Tony did something the angel liked, he knew it. The sounds Bucky made were incredible, needy and sweet. And when Tony did something specific, Bucky would mimic it, then try his own variations, to see if what Tony liked was different.

Bucky startled, when Tony shed his own clothes in a burst of fire, the rich scent of sulphur hanging in the air, the ash of cloth wafting away on the breeze. “Oh,” Bucky gasped. “That was… impressive.”

Bucky rolled them over until Tony was supported on nothing but the clouds and Bucky’s will. Terrifying, because if Bucky let him go, Tony would fall, and while demons couldn’t really be killed -- well, not by anything as mundane as gravity -- it would still hurt. He stared at Tony as if he’d never seen a naked man before, and perhaps he hadn’t. It wasn’t like an angel needed to take a shower, even if Tony had indulged in the luxury.

His hand went down Tony’s chest and stuttered over the scarring at his heart, where his Angelic Name and Power had been stripped from him, a clawed hole that had been covered with thick ropy scar tissue. It always ached, always hurt, just a little. But Bucky’s fingers didn’t shy away from the ugliness, didn’t even seem to register that it was ugly. He kept right on touching, as if Tony were somehow precious. “Lovely.” Down more, and then--”Am I allowed?” His palm was just over Tony’s cock, scant millimeters away. “Will you like it?”

“Yes,” Tony promised. “Please. Whatever... anything you want. You can’t hurt me.” A lie, that, but Bucky wouldn’t want to hurt him, and that was nearly the same thing. Tony had never let pain come between him and pleasure before. “You learn fast, Bucky.” What a glorious demon he would make.

Bucky’s fingers explored the length, from base to head, and then he laughed, delighted. “Oh, it moves! Not quite so much as your tail, but-- does it have a mind of its own, too?” Bucky kept stroking it, petting it. At the start of each stroke, he ran his thumb over Tony’s crown, smearing precome down, sending delicious, juddering sensation through Tony’s whole body.

Tony groaned. “Something like that,” he managed. He slid his tail up under Bucky’s robes, coiling higher and higher up Bucky’s thigh. “Going to let me return the favor, gorgeous?”

“You should always pay back what you owe,” Bucky said, almost primly, despite the wicked things he was doing to Tony’s cock. He curled his hand around it, squeezed, and then twisted, making Tony cry out with sudden pleasure, before rolling them over again, the cloud obligingly moving around underneath them, perfect support and cushion, and tucking his hands behind his head, as if waiting for Tony to get on with things.

Tony laughed again and settled himself into the vee of Bucky’s thighs. “This isn’t something to owe,” he said. “This is something to give, a gift.” He plucked at Bucky’s belt and let it fall away, let the robes drop open to reveal a body that made Tony’s mouth water at the sight. “But if you like, I will repay, with interest.” He slipped down and closed his mouth over Bucky’s cock, thick and long and dark with need. He had to stretch his jaw to take Bucky down to the root, but it was worth it to hear Bucky’s gasps and soft cries, to feel that perfect body trembling under him.

One of Bucky’s hands speared into Tony’s hair, then latched on to his horn, thumb stroking along it in time to Tony’s movements, like it was a handle. The other somehow found Tony’s tail, pulled at it once, which sent shivers directly up Tony’s spine, his hand warm against the surface, before retreating to caress the spaded tip. His wings arched around them, feathery ends tickling down Tony’s back and legs, seeming to touch him everywhere at once. “Oh, that… that feels… Tony, that feels so good!”

Tony hummed in approval. His tail was sensitive, almost as sensitive as his hands and cock. And the way Bucky touched his horns -- humans couldn’t touch them at all, and demons simply didn’t, but Bucky couldn’t know that. That indescribable pleasure-pain of Grace scraping against the remnants of Tony’s halo... He shuddered, and tried to take Bucky even deeper into his mouth, because if he pulled free, he was going to do something utterly undignified, like beg for more.

“Oh, oh, oh,” Bucky cried, each repetition going higher and more frantic, his body unable to remain still under the onslaught of sensation. “Tony, something’s happening!” And he bucked up, hips moving, piston sharp, against Tony. His hand tightened, almost unbearably, on Tony’s horn, before relaxing again and then-- Tony found his tail hauled straight up and Bucky was licking it frantically, sucking the spaded end into his mouth and playing it with his tongue, swallowing around it. He hummed, a quick patter of notes that sent vibrations shimmering up Tony’s spine.

Tony’s tail twitched, and he swallowed down around Bucky’s cock, pressing his tongue flat against the vein. With a more experienced partner, he might have stopped, drawing out the moment, but he couldn’t imagine doing anything like that with Bucky, not like this. Nothing could ever be more perfect than Bucky’s frantic desperation and confusion, and Tony wanted nothing more than to lead Bucky to climax, to see the shock and pleasure on the angel’s expression.

Bucky jerked, one last time, and then his Voice rang out, multiple chords, a sound absolutely unreproducible by a human throat, a beautiful alleluia that shook the sky and earth. The clouds scattered and it started raining down from nothingness, the moon brilliant enough to send rainbows scattering for a brief moment of meteorological miracles.

“Oh! Oh, Tony.” Bucky panted for breath, overwhelmed and shivering with reaction.

“There you go,” Tony soothed. He swallowed his mouthful -- of course Bucky tasted wonderful -- and crawled up to take Bucky into his arms. He petted the angel’s hair and shoulders and the join of his wings. “That’s it, just relax.” He eyed the rainbows mistrustfully -- the last thing he needed was for the Lord to butt in now.

Bucky cracked one eye open to give Tony a Look. “Don’t think I could get any more relaxed,” he pointed out, the sarcasm loaded, and unlike the angel’s normal, sweet, too-innocent tones. He stretched, displaying all his glorious skin, and then his hand travelled down Tony’s body again. “Will… that? Happen for you? Teach me, show me how to make love with you.”

Tony suppressed a scoff -- everyone knew that demons couldn’t love. Everyone except Bucky, it seemed. Tony curled his hand -- the one with Bucky’s Name branded into the palm -- around Bucky’s, wrapped their joined hands around his cock. “Like this.” He showed Bucky how to stroke, slow and then fast, rolling over the head to spread pre-come, making things slick and easy. “Just-- oh... yeah. Just like that.” Bucky was a very fast learner.

“Hold on to me,” Bucky told him, pulling Tony in closer, his breath warm against Tony’s neck as he moved his hand, drawing pleasure from the demon’s body. Reaching a fever pitch, Tony’s body was shuddering in Bucky’s arms, and then Bucky leaned down and licked Tony’s horn. No pain, only unimaginable pleasure, ripped through him, stunning him with its bright joy. “I have you, I’ve got you, my prayer. Give me your gift, love.”

Tony had never felt pleasure like this. It surged through his body, erasing the pain and anguish and uncertainty. Bucky’s attention and sweet words made him feel whole, however briefly. Cherished. Loved.

The tears that fell from Tony’s eyes were no less of a relief than the climax that rushed through him, healing and hot and perfect. “Bucky!” The angelic syllables tore out of his throat, echoed off the clouds, and shattered the starlight into fragments as Tony let go and fell into Bucky’s arms.

When Tony came back to himself, Bucky was still humming that glorious multichorded chorus, and wiping Tony’s chest with the corner of his robes. “You might be right,” he told Tony in all seriousness. “It’s a gift. I just cannot quite place who is giving, and who is receiving. A gift, that we give to each other.” He shifted his robes again, and Bucky’s halo slid from the pocket, a glimmering ring of gold against the clouds. “Pesky thing,” Bucky said to it, fondly. He lifted it, and then hung it on Tony’s horn. “Hold this a moment, would you?”  

Tony was so shocked he couldn’t even move for a long moment. An angel never touched another’s halo, never mind handed it over in a moment of -- what? Affectionate playfulness? And Tony was a demon. He could, in theory, do terrible things with a whole halo in his possession. “Bucky!”

“What?” Bucky finished cleaning Tony up and wrapped the spare bits of robe around him. “You know, well, of course you know, angels are the embodiment of the Lord’s love. I’m supposed to love everything that the Lord created. But I’ll tell you a secret,” he said, laughing eyes bright. “I think, of all the Lord’s creations, I love you best.”

You can’t, Tony wanted to say. You mustn’t. Because Tony was no fit vessel for love. He was a black hole, drinking in light and never returning it. He was Fallen, a demon. Surely the Lord’s mandate stopped short when it reached the gates of Hell.

He looked down at the Name shimmering under his skin, and said nothing. He just curled against Bucky’s side and felt Bucky’s wings cradling them, strong and secure and safe.

When Tony woke up, he found himself alone on a bench in the park, body slightly damp with dew. He was wearing clothes he didn’t recognize, mismatched, but concealing him. In one hand, he held a single, white feather.

The soup kitchen was a happy, busy place. The money was flowing in, the love and nutrition flowing out. Bucky had made a few suggestions in the director’s ear, and they were laying down the groundwork to buy an abandoned shopping mall and turn it into low rent and no rent housing, just outside the city. So much good was being done and Bucky was a part of it.

He had to keep damping down his glow. Even the director had commented on it, when he came in to begin the day’s work. “Looks like you had a good time last night,” she had teased.

“I did, thank you,” Bucky had said.

And now, Bucky was taking his turn at the soup line, filling bowls with thick stew, when time stopped.

Gabriel blew in the doors of the shelter, his silver trumpet already at his lips and the blast he sounded dropped a dozen pigeons dead in the streets, caused Mr. Hartwell to seize up, his heart strained. Children burst into tears, cats fled, dogs howled. The sky grew dark and ominous. Bucky dropped the soup ladle and found himself cringing against the wall as Gabriel’s boots rang against the floor.

Bucky didn’t know what the humans saw, a robber, perhaps, a drug-crazed maniac. A kidnapper, or terrorist.

But the director rushed forward, her face set with anger, and she wielded a kitchen knife threateningly against the Angel of Judgement. “Get away from him!”

“No!” Bucky threw himself between Gabriel and the director. “Leave her alone, she’s done no harm to you. I’ll come with you, just… leave them alone, Gabriel. They’re good people. They’re doing the Lord’s work.”

Gabriel looked past Bucky, through him, at the director. Weighing. Judging. Finally, he focused on Bucky and lifted his empty hand to point. “Outside, then.”

“Call an ambulance for Mr. Hartwell,” Bucky told the director, then kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. You… take care of everything here. Lord’s blessing on you.” He sealed that with his kiss; she would be protected, unless Gabriel wanted to take it up with the Lord. Terror and rage battled it out in his chest, nothing he should ever be feeling in the presence of an archangel.

He shed his human vessel as soon as he passed the threshold, vanishing from the human world. He went to Gabriel and supplicated himself, kneeling at Gabriel’s feet until his forehead touched the ground, reaching for the hem of Gabriel’s robes to kiss the fabric.

“What have you done?” Gabriel demanded. “I sent you here to repent.”

“Is this not good work?” Bucky asked, keeping his face down. “We are feeding near to five hundred people a day, getting ready to home nearly a thousand. It’s small, I know, but I’m only starting. I have brought hope, joy, faith, to at least a dozen or more.”

“And lost your own way so badly as to consort with demons!” snapped Gabriel.

“Tony is one of the Lord’s children, the same as you, or I,” Bucky said. He was petrified. Gabriel hated demons, hated them with a fervor that was unseemly in an angelic heart. Sometimes, Bucky wondered, if Gabriel didn’t hate Lucifer more than he loved the Lord. That was sinful, unworthy of Bucky to think it and he cowered closer to the ground, practically crawling. Debasing himself before one of the eldest.

“Hardly the same,” Gabriel growled. “And you have let it infect you with its lies, lain with it. The stench of Hell surrounds you like a cloud.”

“He didn’t lie,” Bucky protested. “He’s not an it, not a monster. Don’t speak about him like that!”

Thunder cracked. “How dare you? You defile your God-given body with that creature, and then dare to defy me?”

“He’s not a creature!” Bucky had never experienced righteousness. The purity of emotion that rose up on behalf of another, to defend and protect. But it grew inside him like a white ball of light until he was breaking at the seams from it. “Tony cares about me!” And the light exploded, blowing Gabriel right off his feet to tumble down the street, until the archangel was on the ground, staring up at Bucky with wide eyes.

It wasn’t until he was standing, proud and strong, over Gabriel, that Bucky realized what he’d done. Oh, oh, oh, no! He’d struck a superior, he’d raised his Grace against an archangel. That he’d knocked Gabriel down with the force of it said nothing, except that Gabriel could not have expected the blow.

Bucky went to his belly on the ground, agast. Horrified with himself. “I’m sorry, forgive me, forgive me, I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

“Silence.” Gabriel rose to his feet, and a little beyond that, hovering over Bucky, wings outstretched in fury. “You teeter on the precipice, child of Samael. Have a care, or you will Fall. Or perhaps that is your intention.”

“I… just want to stay,” Bucky pleaded. “Finish the work. I’m doing good work. Let me stay, you’ll see.”

Gabriel was silent for a long while. It seemed years passed before he finally spoke again. “When our Lord allows me to sound the call to the Final Battle,” he said, his beautiful voice cold, “I will not hesitate to join the Host. I will lay down my trumpet and take up the sword, and I will destroy your precious Tony without a thought. And you as well, if you stand between us. Do you hear me, child?”

“Oh, Gabriel,” Bucky said, suddenly filled with sorrow. He stood, reached out for the elder. “When did you lose your Grace?”

Gabriel’s expression darkened, and the wind howled down the long-empty street. “Stay, if you will. Or Fall, if Lucifer will have you. But you are no longer welcome in Heaven.” He lifted his trumpet to his lips and blew a note that, if the humans could have heard it, surely would have destroyed them, rendered them into dust and ash. It pierced Bucky’s ears and heart and soul until he screamed and fell to his knees in pain and terror.

When it stopped and Bucky could see again, Gabriel was gone, and something... was wrong.

Bucky pulled his wings around him, cowering inside them. He reached his hand into his pocket, his fingers grasping for his halo.

A sharp spike of pain in his fingers and he pulled them out, full of dread. The golden blood of an angel dripped from his fingertips and the remnants of his shattered halo was held in his palm.

Bucky gave out a soft, agonized sob. “Father,” he cried out. “Why have You forsaken me?”

The sound sliced through Tony like a shockwave, more a feeling than a noise. He lifted his head sharply from his contemplation of the feather in his hand. He knew that instrument. He knew that note. If it continued much longer--

But it was gone. Tony slumped back against the park bench, heart pounding in fear and hope. It hadn’t stretched long enough to unmake an angel, though something had been destroyed. Tony wondered if he dared investigate.

He should feel more satisfaction. He had corrupted an angel; Bucky’s Fall was no doubt imminent. But that... only made him sad.

The ground at Tony’s feet heaved, like a large, angry mole was digging around under there, until the soil tore and Pepper clawed her way out. Tony preferred other, more dignified ways to travel, but he had to admit, Pepper’s method was quick. “Well, it sounds like someone’s having a bad morning,” she said, brushing dirt off her vessel in quick flicks of her hand. “We’re counting this as a win for the bad guys?”

“I guess so,” Tony admitted. He stuffed his hand into his pocket, feeling for the feather there.

“I have all the paperwork here,” Pepper said. “I need a drop of blood to process him into the middle circles. We can have him dragged, if he won’t sign. Make sure he knows it’s a slow climb, if we take him unwillingly. But if he comes with us, we can fast-track him. It’s been a while since you’ve had a new assistant. But I could really use some help, so well done, Tony-- Tony? Are you all right?”

“What? I’m... I guess.” Tony could feel every tiny ridge of the feather against his fingertips. “It’s just, he was so... So bright and hopeful and happy. He doesn’t deserve... this.”

Pepper waved a hand; she couldn’t actually conjure food and coffee, but there was probably some hipster across town suddenly missing their breakfast. It was one of her talents, and usually Tony enjoyed it, eating something meant for someone else. Literally taking candy from babies. “Since when have you cared about what they deserve?” Pepper asked. “Tony, this is a big win, here!”

Tony rounded on her. “It’s all about what they deserve, Pep! That’s the whole point! The whole system is explicitly set up to reward the worthy and punish the unworthy. And he doesn’t deserve this! He doesn’t deserve me.”

“What about what you deserve, Tony?” Pepper asked. “Right now, I think you deserve a doughnut and some espresso, because you’re just not yourself when you’re hungry. As far as the system goes, we’ve needed an overhaul of the system for years. It’s been on the agenda at every Diabolic Conference for the last ten generations at least. The act of buying indulgences has been on the books for so long, the really horrible sinners are getting a Fast Pass. Honestly, we’re not Walt Disney.”

“If only we had their numbers,” Tony muttered, almost by reflex, and then he shook himself. “Pepper, I can’t... I have to try to make this right.” He shoved the coffee and doughnut back into her hands and set off into the city as fast as his vessel’s legs would carry him.

Gabriel sure left his mark on a place; where his powers had touched the human world, there was destruction and chaos. Cops and SWAT teams lined the perimeter. A frantic woman described how a terrorist with a suicide bomb had come into the homeless shelter, and that their new, bravest employee, everyone loved him, and taken the man outside, and gently talked him down, until the man had gone mad and depressed the trigger.

She was sobbing as she told the story.

Ambulances were attending the injured.

Near the door, there was a crater, as if there really had been some explosion. A soft, barely there sound reached Tony’s ears. Muffled sobbing, as if so great that it was leaking through the Veil.

Tony shed his vessel -- the last thing he wanted was to deal with well-meaning but useless humans -- and swept through, a cold shiver of a wind for those crossing his path. It was physically hard to enter the crater; the echo of the note lingered there, painful static on Tony’s skin. He pushed through it anyway, because Bucky was there, kneeling at the center of the crater, wings curled protectively around himself as he sobbed.

Tony was surprised -- and relieved -- to see those wings still intact. There was some hope, then, that Tony hadn’t utterly destroyed him.

And no hope, really, that he would want to see Tony, not when Tony was the author of all this pain. But he was helpless to walk away. He stopped just outside of Bucky’s wingspan and watched for an endless moment. He couldn’t move, not until he realized that he was rubbing at the palm of his hand, thumb dragging back and forth across Bucky’s Name. Tony forced his hands to his side and air into his chest. “Bucky?”

“Tony!” Bucky cried out and for a moment, Tony wasn’t certain that he wasn’t being attacked, but Bucky tucked his face against Tony’s throat, using Tony’s strength to hold himself up. “Tony, Tony, Tony, he broke it! He broke it! Gabriel broke it!”

Tony almost staggered under the sudden weight, but managed to keep them upright. “I’m sorry,” he sighed. “What did he break?”

Bucky gulped down more tears, then opened his hand. Laying in the palm were three crescents, dull and black and pockmarked. “I only spoke the truth, and he shattered it,” Bucky wailed. There wasn’t even enough of Bucky’s halo left to form a decent pair of horns; they’d just be tiny spikes on either side of his head, no longer than an inch or two. Not enough to grant Bucky any demonic powers. He’d be a lesser imp, never capable of anything more than the strength of all celestial beings.  A foot soldier, sacrificed for a hill in the Last War.

Tony swallowed, hard. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’m so, so sorry. It’s my fault.” He reached out, then hesitated. Touching an angel’s halo or a demon’s horns was... Bucky had touched Tony’s horns. Bucky had looped his halo over Tony’s horns, and-- Tony brushed a finger along the curve of one short crescent. “I did this.”

“No, you didn’t,” Bucky said. He wiped his cheeks angrily, smearing tears across his perfect face. “Gabriel did it. Gabriel did it, punishment for me, for daring… for daring to care about a demon. Gabriel has harbored hatred in his heart. He has lost his Grace.”

Bucky sighed, slid the pieces of his halo back into his pocket. “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. I’m not ashamed. I don’t regret anything I’ve done. The Lord has not judged me; Gabriel did.”

Because I tempted you. A new demon -- even if only an imp -- and news of Gabriel’s lost Grace would definitely bring Tony back into the Boss’ good books. At least for a while.

It wouldn’t even be that hard to convince Bucky to come with him, to finish Falling. To convince the angel that punishing the damned was still part of the Lord’s work. The words sprang easily to Tony’s tongue.

They tasted bitter, though. Tony found his hand in his pocket again, stroking the feather.

He took the feather out and looked at it. Angel feathers didn’t just fall out; they had to be removed. Not unlike...

“I can fix it,” Tony heard himself saying. “Give me the pieces. I can fix it.”

Bucky didn’t even ask; didn’t even hesitate. After everything that happened, Bucky still trusted Tony, implicitly and absolutely. A few slivers and a handful of what was practically dust. “I would do it again,” Bucky told him. “You’re not a monster. You’re not a thing. Gabriel had no right to say it.”

“I am absolutely a monster,” Tony said. “I am a terror in the dark. I tempt the good into sin, and sinners into damnation. But I am going to fix this. You are going Home.” He sat down there, in the center of the crater, and laid out the pieces of Bucky’s halo, every tiny sliver and speck of dust. It wasn’t enough, because of course it wasn’t, but that was all right, because Tony had his own pieces.

He didn’t look at Bucky, and he didn’t let himself think about the consequences. He grasped at his own horns and pulled.

It hurt. It hurt nearly as much as the Fall had hurt, nearly as much as losing his wings. He kept pulling. For Bucky.

At last, they came free, a pair of pitted black arcs. Tony laid them carefully next to Bucky’s pieces and measured. It would be enough, just. “I was a smith,” Tony said softly. “I built halos, before the War.” He summoned his fire -- it had been Holy fire, once upon a time, cleansing and shaping. Now it was profane, a balefyre that consumed and destroyed. But it obeyed his command, and he needed it to forge the pieces together.

He wiped blood from his face, running down out of his hair, out of the holes where his horns had been, and flung that into the fire, as well. If he was going to sacrifice his power and his standing and -- quite probably -- his existence to save the angel, then he might as well leave some of himself in the halo. Let some small piece of him return Home.

Time and space only existed when he wanted them to. He squeezed into the space between seconds, slipped into the molecules of matter, and pulled the pieces of the halo together. Bucky’s pieces joined to one another eagerly; they already knew each other. He expected it would be more difficult to join his own horns into the curve, but -- he had almost forgotten, again, Bucky hanging the halo against his horn. They knew each other. Tony tested the seams, and found it solid, if simple.

The fire licked away the black scarring, leaving a halo in its place, thinner than it had once been and more silver than gold, but true and whole. Tony released his fire and slid back into the world, and finally, allowed himself to look at Bucky again.

“What… what did you do?” Bucky was staring at him, eyes wide and awestruck. “Tony, what did you do?”

“I fixed it,” Tony said. “It just needed some parts.”

Bucky stretched out his hand. Tony thought he was reaching for the halo, but then, past it. “Tony-- oh, God’s glory, Tony… look what you did.” He touched something over Tony’s shoulder and a shock of sensation rippled down his skin and into his spine. “Tony… look at this.” He tugged, and it was reminiscent of someone pulling his tail, or… his wings?

Bucky drew the feathers over Tony’s shoulder. Not white, like an angel’s, but brilliant red and gold, like the very heart of his fires.

Tony’s throat closed, and he had to swallow around it. “I didn’t. That’s-- I didn’t do this.” He lifted a shaking hand to feel the feathers, soft coverts and stiff primaries. He stretched the wings out and they obeyed him, splaying wide. The muscles felt stiff, unused, but whole and strong. “How...?” He didn’t realize he was weeping until he looked at Bucky again and found Bucky’s face blurred.

“You… you’re Forgiven, Tony,” Bucky said, and he gently took the halo out of Tony’s hands and set it over Tony’s head. It hovered there a moment, then settled, filling him with Grace. “You can go Home.” Bucky stepped back, to look at Tony in all his glory. “Of all God’s creations, you’re the one I love best. Go Home, Tony. Go Home. You deserve it.”

Home. He could go Home. He could resume his place at the forge, could bask in the Lord’s presence, could-- Never see Bucky again.

Tony took off the halo. “No. Not without you.”

“Tony--” Bucky fingers brushed over the halo, and Tony felt it, like an extension of himself, down his fingers and into his palm where Bucky’s name was etched on his skin. Bucky brushed his thumb over Tony’s temples, Healing the gaping wounds there, wiping the blood clean. “You sacrificed everything for me. You should… there’s not enough here, not for both of us. If you don’t… what will we do?”

Tony caught Bucky’s hand and lifted it to his lips. “There’s enough Grace between us to stay out of Hell. That’s all we need. With one halo between us, not quite all the way to being angels, but not Fallen, either. We can stay here. We can... we can do good. Here. We don’t need to be angels for that.”

“I told Gabriel you weren’t a monster,” Bucky said. He pulled himself closer to Tony, tilted his head, and claimed Tony’s mouth for a kiss. “Of all the Lord’s creations, I love you best.”

Tony pressed his mouth into Bucky’s palm, breathing into it the Name he had lost and now recovered. “I love you, Bucky. Into eternity, I love you.”

The Lord tilted His head to one side. “I’m surprised to see you, Luci. Do come in, have a seat. What can I do for you?”

Lucifer stalked in, tail whipping from side to side like an angry cat’s. “Don’t come over all inscrutable on me,” he growled. “And don’t try to tell me that you saw that coming. There’s no way you planned that. And now we’ve both lost!”

“Need I remind you that I work in mysterious ways?” The Lord waited until Lucifer was fuming, smoke pouring out of his ears. “I didn’t lose him. Bucky’s a good boy, if a touch rebellious. A bit too obsessed with the television. One might say I learned something, from the last time I had a spot of the mutinous to deal with.”

Lucifer huffed. His horns nearly formed a perfect circle, only a jagged crack between them. “And Tony is still an expert at temptation and mayhem, even if he’s got some soft spots. What do we do now?”

“Well, I’d like to offer amnesty -- there’s a demon in your employ who’s been bringing up some system overhauls. Yes, I have a spy in your midst, Luci, don’t give me that look. I know you have them, too. She has some interesting ideas. And this-- those boys? They may be our best hope for mending our fences.”

Lucifer looked startled. “Mending our fences?”

The Lord gazed at Lucifer, His eyes soft. “I did wrongly by you, Morningstar. Maybe it’s time for all of Us to let go Our old grudges and try to be a family again?” He offered His hand to Lucifer Morningstar, once the best and brightest of the angels.

Lucifer took the Lord’s hand gingerly, as if expecting it to burn. When it didn’t, he let out a soft breath and sank to one knee. “Thy will be done,” he murmured, “as always.”

“In the meanwhile… Gabriel has lost his Grace. Maybe you could take him under your wing?”

Lucifer was on his feet again, grin showing sharp teeth. “Has he, now? Well. He’s going to be stubborn about it, too, I expect. That’ll be fun.”

[wannawrite]

Steal My Girl

who?: Wanna One’s Kang Daniel, Ong Seongwoo genre: 🌺 type: bullet point blog navigator. • enemies to lovers AU • but you never get to love Daniel because ‘Seongwoo is one slick bih’ - Raelynn dedicated to my baby, Rae @lalisalsa , thank you for requesting this! this was an...interesting request to work on.💖 also, this is kind of crack just saying...and my Directioner ass set a 1D inspired title I’m sobbing. Also dedicated to Dain, @pinksausageduo , I binge read all of her enemies to lovers! to get inspired and understand this concept better, so thank you for fuelling me with your quality content. ILY💕

- Admin L

disclaimer: pictures do not belong to me and all credit goes to their original owners

• ‘MY NEW OTP!’ imessedupsorry

• ‘2 months and they’ll be together.’ • ‘I’ll say 5 months.’ • in reality, you had to drag a begrudging Daniel into the library while the hallways filled themselves with whispers • ‘uhh Daniel...where’s all your books and notes?’ • why did you even ask......of course, he’s never going to arrive to class with materials to work • his cheeky grin falls when you fish out your own history notebook and textbook, laying out all your writing materials including your art markers • ‘I just don’t understand,’ he huffs, crossing his arms. ‘I’m doing fine on my own. I don’t need to be tutored, I can do this.’ • you got a tip-off: if you offer Daniel jellies, he will oblige • ‘Do you want to attend today’s class?’ • ‘...no?’ • you smiled brightly, packing up your things. ‘Okay! See you tomorrow then, take care!’ • confused, he reached out and grabbed the sleeve of your uniform. ‘Seriously?’ • you nodded, not sarcastically before bidding him goodbye again and making your way off, scribbling down to bring jellies the next day • it shocked you when Daniel was the one to text you first about his tutoring classes, maybe it warmed your heart a little • so this continued on. You would meet him after school every Wednesday, Thursday and Monday. Occasionally, he would call you to meet at his place on weekends • sometimes he even texted you out of the blue and the conversations that carried on after that were certainly not about history • he was actually a sweet guy • you two greeted each other in school and sat together at times • on the day of finals, Daniel kissed your check and hugged you tight before entering the exam hall. ‘I’ll make sure you get that $15 a-and...I’ll make you proud.’ • BLUSH BLUSH BLUSHING •  your face was burning throughout the entire paper, it didn’t help that your seat was exactly opposite Daniel’s and you could view him so clearly • it was the smallest, most unnoticeable things that made your heart flutter. Like how he scrunched his nose when he came across a difficult question or when his lips pursed when he was concentrating hard • a whole man • you were pretty much on cloud nine when results were released because he ran out of the hall and right into your arms, thanking you repeatedly • unfortunately, all good things must come to an end • it was around Junior year? maybe, you can’t remember the details but you vividly recall the entire situation • there was some sort of dance coming up and you still had that stupid crush on Kang Daniel. Everyone hopes their crush would ask them to be their date • even wishing for that when it was time to cut your cake • I suppose...your wish came true? • two days before the dance and you prepared to show up alone when you found bouquet of red roses left on your desk • you had been banded into a different class for 2nd period science, explains why • on the small tag attached with gold yarn, ‘PROM?’ was scribbled in someone’s handwriting you would never forget • D a n i e l • INTERNALLY: MISSION ABORT MISSION ABORT HEART EXPLOSION IN 3...2.. • curious eyes peered at your gift as a hot blush filled your face, a dumb grin was pulled on your face the entire class • you stashed the bouquet under your desk and occasionally stroked the velvety petals • just after the bell had gone, Kang Daniel waltzed into the classroom accompanied by his best friend, Ong Seongwoo • his lips had been curled into a satisfied, almost cocky smirk, but when his gaze found yours and saw that the flowers were hidden under your table, a frown etched it’s way onto his face • meanwhile, you were there blushing, your hopes soaring high as he approached you. ‘Yes!’ you squeaked, standing up as soon as he reached your desk. ‘I’ll be your date to prom.’ • silence fell over the class before utter disbelief overcame Daniel. He ripped the flowers from your desk, horror overwhelming him. • he glared you in the eye, his heart turning into cold stone. ‘No, no, you won’t be.’ • turns out, the roses were for that popular girl in class who sat behind you and spent her science class jotting down how to break up with two people at the same time • you wouldn’t blame her, she was a bombshell in every aspect • ‘sarah, will you be my date to prom?’ Daniel asked suavely, now offering your bouquet to her and even getting down on one knee • your jaw fell to the floor and so did the rest of class’ as they finally comprehended the situation before them • sarah slowly stood up, examined Daniel’s gift and question before smiling sweetly and knocking the roses out of his grip. ‘Sorry, I don’t accept...used things. And..I already have a date.’ • her annoyingly sugary voice still rang through your head nowadays • Daniel was completely crestfallen, he tossed the roses into the corner of the classroom then stormed out • but not before exchanging a few words with you. • ‘T-this is all your fault,’ he spat, narrowing eyes unforgiving. • you knew right then and there that he was never worth your time, yet you couldn’t help but feel upset that you had lost a good friend • from then on, you ignored Daniel and never dared to go anywhere near him or his little bunch of clique members • at least Seongwoo wasn’t the world’s worst person • when Daniel tormented you, Seongwoo was there to comfort you • it wasn’t like y’all talked or texted but he was there to made sure you were all good before catching up with his clan • he even discouraged Daniel from poking fun at you • it wasn’t like you were too affected by Daniel’s annoying • but Seongwoo,,,gosh he made your heart beat faster and faster each time • now’s the time for the juicy stuff • for your final history project, your class was required to pair up with another class for group work • wow it must be Cupid or something because you ended up working in the same group as Seongwoo • however, when there’s an Ong Seongwoo, there’s a Kang Daniel • Wonderful • during class discussion, you paid no mind to Daniel, focusing your attention solely on the project • it was only during weekend discussion that Seongwoo and your classmate could not attend • and yours and Daniel’s share of the workload had suddenly been intertwined • ‘god no,’ Daniel had muttered under his breathe when your classmate suggested that the two of you meet up to discuss further about your half of the project • at that, you drop your pen, it lands with a silence piercing clatter on the table top • Everyone watches as you purse your lips and turn away from Daniel, maybe even shifting your chair a couple of inches further away • Daniel snickers and rolls his eyes but remains silent and gestures for your classmate to continue talking • after class, Seongwoo grabs your arm before you can make a mad dash for it • ‘don’t be like this,’ he says when it’s just the two of you left in the class. ‘It’s hurting you, I can tell but please don’t be hostile towards Niel, things will only get worse if you two fight.’ • You let out a frustrated sigh, glancing away • ‘hey,’ Seongwoo says softly, his right hand clasping your chin and turning your head to face him again. Your eyes meet and your breath jams in your throat. • that sounds violent oh no • ‘Look at me, okay? I’m doing this because I want to help. It isn’t healthy for both of you to be like this all the time. Calm down and...text me when you want to talk about it.’ • why can’t I just text you when I want to talk to YOU? • you manage a shaky breath, nodding. Deciding that just maybe, Seongwoo was right. He was a good friend after all, he wouldn’t do anything to harm either you or Daniel • you went home that day with a lot on your mind • and the next afternoon, you found yourself in the library, seated next to Kang Daniel, books and research papers lining the white table in front of you • originally, everyone had been present but your classmate, Semmi made an excuse to ‘buy lunch’ for everyone and Seongwoo had accompanied her to the mall • so far, all was civil. You even inquired about Daniel’s wellbeing and how his studies were fairing • laughing, he says, ‘Not the best. I suppose I could use a tutor again.’ • a tutor like me? • he stares at you long and hard for a couple of prolonged seconds. ‘Hey, maybe we can have study sessions again, like the old times. I’m...sorry for everything I put you through and we should try to get along for the sake of our studies.’ • heart: thUD THUD THUD ??? • boi what game you playing • ‘and of course, we need to take Semmi and Ong into consideration, our grade shouldn’t affect theirs.’ • was kang daniel actually apologising and offering to make up with you? How strange. Seongwoo must have really knocked some sense into him • jokingly, you agreed. There was no way he could be serious and this was just to make a joke out of you, you knew his tactics all to well by now • one thing you didn’t know was that Daniel was a huge fan of hugging you in the hallways or whenever he saw you • ....which led to everyone thinking that you two were dating • no • he was a lot sweeter to you and showed up to school with speckless decorum • Daniel also assisted you in your studies, offering his afternoons as study time with you • why was your heart racing so madly when you were with him? • then again, there was Seongwoo • Ong Seongwoo had appeared to have taken your heart with him too • he was always nice to you, and his affections never faded once. Though he never made his intentions clear • but uh I don’t think you can exactly classify someone as a friend after they walk you home, by you drinks all the time, kiss you on the cheek/forehead and offer to carry your school supplies • you laughed a lot more when you were with Seongwoo than when you hung out with Daniel • clearly, you had decisions to make • That time came sooner rather than later when Seongwoo popped the question, ‘Why aren’t we going out yet?’ • you were so STUNNED YOU DROPPED YOUR FORK - JIHOON’S EYES NEARLY POPPED OUT OF HIS SOCKETS • AND IT SLID RIGHT ACROSS TWO TABLES TO WHERE DANIEL AND MINHYUN WERE WALKING, CARRYING THEIR TRAYS TO YOUR TABLE • he paused • ‘I loaf you a lot y/n,’ he pointed to the baguette on your tray, ‘but you’re always with Daniel...and I don’t want to interfere and all...but I need to give this a try before I pasta way.’ • puns yes puns • like I said, Seongwoo made you laugh more, so maybe that was something to take into consideration • luckily, Daniel was still out of earshot when Seongwoo had boldly confessed his love • lunch carried on as if nothing had happened • you tried your best to brush off that sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach • ‘give us a minute,’ Daniel instructed his friends, ushering them to go ahead. ‘It’ll only be a second.’ • he wanted to talk to you...alone • worry crossed Seongwoo’s face but regardless of his personal interests, he slipped away • Daniel took your hands in his, shocking you and your heart for the second time in a span of 20 minutes • ‘y/n, be my date to prom.’ • prom.... • dance with Daniel • or sip ciders with Seongwoo • you had to choose NOW • yet in your heart, you already knew the answer • one boy walked home with a broken yet delighted heart, glad that at least the person he adored was waltzing in the arms of his best friend • happy that at least, he still maintained a meaningful friendship you. He knew the truth and that was the most important part • the other suitor took an Uber home with you, heart racing and fighting down a red blush every time his gaze locked with yours • he was overjoyed, knowing that his efforts in pursuing you had paid off and finally, the two of you would make better memories as a couple • he was glad you accepted his admiration • Daniel chuckled when he saw Seongwoo’s new IG story, rejection never felt better when he had the knowledge that his best friend was over the moon, that his other friend was happy with the decision they made • - I’ll have a date this prom - • wow what is this whole thing even