#so like. what is my excuse. besides living in nyc

[rebeccadumaurier]

looking at my finances & it's a little concerning how little i've saved...at least i'm not at a net loss, but i really should have saved more after a year of full-time work. on the bright side, we now have an office so i can actually have a (co)working space for free — staying inside was driving me insane lmao

[kookiekittyp4nties]

An Eventful night in

words: 3.4k

Fic summery: Billy Butcher x fem reader x Hughie. Hughie and the reader have been dating for a while and recently started sleeping together with Butcher. After the rest of the boys crew decide to go out you decide to stay back with Butcher and Hughie to get changed but that quickly turns into something much more eventful then the night you had planned.

Tags: Smut, nsfw, double penetration, Eiffel tower, vaginal fingering, rimming, anal play, anal sex, creampie, praise kink, slight degradation, blowjobs, rough oral sex, finger sucking, threesome-FMM, handjobs, rough sex, light breeding kink. overstimulation, doggystyle, manhandling, unprotected sex

Notes: i wrote this all the way back in august hehe its an oldie but still a goodie

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

It was a cool evening in the streets of NYC and the boys were all huddled together in their base, desperately trying to figure out their next move. Amongst the frustrated silence, Frenchie spoke up. “It's late, and we've been on edge all month. Why don't we take the night off?” Had anyone walked into the room they could easily tell that the consensus was that everyone agreed. 

“It is important to take time off...” M.M agreed. “Great! How do drinks and dancing sound?!” Frenchie exclaimed. Kimiko nodded excitedly in agreement. “What about you y/n?'' Kimiko signed. “Clubbing might be fun actually. It’s been a while since I've had an excuse to dress up a bit” she grins. “Butcher? Hughie? Do you guys wanna come?” 

“Sorry love but I'm a bit tied up here at the moment.” Butcher gestures to the assortment of plans, guns and other illegal items on the table in front of him. “You feeling okay?” M.M laughs. “Because usually Butcher, you besides from Frenchie would be the first person to ditch work to go party.”  

“Yeah well, today I'm not M.M. My heads bloody killing me mate and I still have all this shit to sort out.” sensing the tension brewing Hughie chirps up i-Ill go” He enthusiastically replies, standing up so quickly he knocks the table and butcher beside him. Who shoots him a displeased look.

 “It'll take me a while to get ready so why don’t you go ahead guys and Hughie and I can hopefully in that time convince Butcher to pull the stick out his ass and come with us.”  you happily chirp. “You don't have to tell me twice mon Coeur,” Frenchie calls holding Kimiko's hand and throwing his jacket over his shoulder as he leaves, M.M trailing behind him. 

Awkward silence quickly filled the air as the other half of the group cleared out. “Well, I'm going to go change and do my makeup. Take your time finishing up with whatever this is.”You exclaim, grabbing your bag and sauntering to the bathroom winking as you close the door.

“A-Actually I need to shower too.” Hughie beams, and practically jumps to follow you.“Lad, she’s changing give her a second.” Butcher grumbles patting Hughie on the shoulder and lighting a cigarette.

It's a while before the sound of the shower stops and You walk out of the bathroom. Hughie’s eyes almost damn near fall out of his head when he sees what you’re wearing. And Butcher, for once, is at a loss for words. “Are you boys ready to leave yet?” you call bending over to re-apply her lipstick. Your short dress threatens to show your panties. 

Both men almost audibly groan as she stands on her tip ties to get a better look at her face in the mirror revealing her pink lacy panties. “While you were in the shower Hughie and I were talking and we realized that it's been a while since we have all spent time together... With this and the bullshit with Homelander and Stormfront, we haven't had any time to ourselves.”

“Hughie, baby do you really feel like that?” you stop putting on your makeup and regretfully glance at the two men on the sofa. “I mean we live together, so I guess it is easy to overlook how much we are having sex, versus how many times we attempted and fell asleep... And Butcher we see even less out of work. I’m sorry we haven't been having much fun together recently.”  

“Which is okay,” Hughie interjects quickly. “I mean, well, I am sorta, really pent up and seeing you in that dress isn't helping... But that's not to say this is our fault. If anything it's fucking Homelanders fault for making us so busy we bearly have any time to fuck, let alone do anything but worry.” Y/n’s breath hitches as she notices Hughie’s tent in his jeans. 

“He does have a point about the dress. You look fucking sexy in it. The thing is so short that if we wanted to fool around all we have to do is roll it up slightly. Which, I’m not opposed to in the slightest... I've always had a soft spot for short dresses.” he groans, grabbing Your waist. being so caught up in the moment, you hadn’t even noticed that both he and Hughie were towering over her looking down ravenously.

Shivering you experimentally grind yourself against Butcher's groin... And beckon Hughie to kiss you. “Wait, are we seriously going to do this here?” He mumbles as he pulls away. “I’m really fucking horny too but everyone is in here during the day. What will they say if they come back  tomorrow and it smells like sex?”  

“You act like it doesn't smell dubious here on the regular lad. It probably won't be noticed too much. And either way, if Frenchie of all people does say anything it's not like we haven't walked in on or seen the aftermath of this room when he’s had Kimiko peg him in here.” Hughie sheepishly nods and leans in for another kiss. “It's just a little team-building exercise…what do you say Y/n? Want me and Hughie to fuck you silly?” 

Legs trembling at his usage of words, you eagerly nod.  “Oh, Come on, you know you can do better than that.” Butcher groans, nibbling your ear and grabbing a handful of your breast. “Say it.” Hughie chimes in. “Say you want Me and Butcher to fuck you silly right here like a little slut.” By the way, butcher’s grope eases on your breast you can tell he is also surprised to hear how assertive the shorter man is being. “I- I want you and Butcher to fuck me silly.” 

“That's a good girl.” Butcher sighs, pulling your panties to the side to rub your clit.  Your eyes grow heavily lidded as you feel Butcher's thick fingers slipping between your labia. He swipes his fingers up your slit collecting all the sticky wetness before circling back to your bundle of nerves.

”Now, poor Hughie has been straining in his pants the past half hour, would you be a dear and help relive him a little before he jizzes his pants like fucking a schoolboy.” working quickly You unbutton and unzip his jeans and slips your hands into his boxers to free him from his fabric prison. You quickly take notice of how painfully hard he is. His cock throbbing and already dribbling pre down his shaft.

“Fuck,” he hisses when his cock hits the cool air of the room, Throwing his head back.“That feels good.” Butcher hums in agreement as he gently slips a finger into Y/n’s soaked pussy.”Remember, jerk him off slowly, just the way he likes it, love. That's right, thumb the tip and then drag your hand down his shaft using his precum as lube.” Hughie trembles at the stimulation and buries his face in your neck. Licking and sucking a hickey into it. He is already so sensitive, so pretty. His face is burning as he nuzzles it into you.

“Butcher….please” you moan. “Please what love? Use your words, I'm not a fucking mind reader.” he chuckles. “Please fuck me with your fingers.” you breathe out, legs starting to buckle. Your cheeks are burning in anticipation. At this point, you are practically dripping. “Sure thing y/n.” almost instantly you feel another finger slip into you and curl causing you to moan loudly and arch your back. "Fuck, your little cunny is so tight it's practically sucking me in. I can barely move." He chuckles.

“How close are you Hughie?” you exhale deeply, Quickening your stroke on his shaft. You can feel him throbbing in your hand. “Pretty, close.” he moans with half-lidded eyes, so eager for stimulation that he bucks his hips into your hand. Usually, he isn't this eager, but you can tell was as pent up as he said. He just can't help himself, you are so good, and your fingers are so skilled he almost feels selfish for having someone jerk him off this well. This is definitely better than touching himself.

 You feel a deep warm knot start to tighten in the pit of your stomach and involuntarily bounce yourself on Butcher's fingers. “Feels good, don’t it? Having your slutty little cunt played with so roughly. Right where anyone could walk in?” he doesn't need to hear an audible response as you clench tightly around his fingers. Wantonly moaning out both his and Hughie’s names. “I'm gonna .. cum” you whine as Hughie pulls you into another sloppy kiss. 

“Me too” he moans into your mouth. Grabbing your chin and turning you to face him, Butcher kisses you roughly, both his Hughies and your spit dripping down your chin. His pace quickens as he continues his assault on your sensitive clit and he drags you to orgasm quickly. Both you and Hughie throw your heads back in ecstasy and moan in unison. “Oh fuuuuck.” Hughie almost sobs. His cum painting your hand and the front of your panties. You would have worried about it getting on your dress had Butcher not rolled the thing up almost to your tits. 

Panting you and Hughie collapse onto each other.  And both eagerly stretch your hand out to Butcher and pull him to sit beside you two on the ground. After sucking and licking the cum off his fingers Butcher makes quick work of his leather jacket and his belt. “How do you reckon we do this Hughie?” he asks, palming his erection through his boxers. Still, in a haze from his orgasm, Hughie only groans. “Lad c’mon snap out of it. There's still more fun to be had. Surely you've wanked at least once this week. There isn't any reason for you to be that spent after a little handy.” 

“You guys could Eiffel tower me?” you finally speak up, and pull yourself into Butcher’s lap, grinding against his erection. You almost feel yourself get wetter at that comment. Butcher grins at you in agreement and you both look over to Hughie for his confirmation.  “Yeah, that could be fun, 've only ever seen them do it in porn though, is it an actual sex position?” Of course, he is questioning the validity of the position. You love Hughie, but he is inexperienced when it comes to these matters. He is almost like a lamb, while Butcher is like a ravenous wolf. "Try sounding any less pleased and porn addicted." Butcher chuckles. Ignoring his comment, you continue  to explain “Course it is.” 

 “Why would it be made up? All I have to do is get on my hands and knees and have one of you take me from behind and the other takes my mouth. It's pretty simple actually.”

“And bloody fun” Butcher adds. You can tell Hughie still looks a bit shy at the idea of something so lewd that you propose an idea. “If you want I can take you up the ass?” you giggle. Which seems to make him somehow even redder, almost as if he hadn't just painted your hand with his jizz. “Lad I can tell you this for free, almost every man I’ve met likes anal one way or another. I know you’ve wanted to do this for a while. Don't act like I haven't seen your search history. You're a filthy fucking pervert like the rest of us.” Both of you laugh and he blushes. “Here let me make it a little easier” you giggle, peeling off your panties and dress and sitting on his lap facing away from him.  You grind your ample exposed ass against his cock and you almost feel him grow hard under you. 

“Now butcher come here” you beckon him with your hand and he shuffles over to stand in front of you. Tentatively you lick your lips before pulling the front of his briefs down to expose his hard and twitching cock.

He was a bit bigger than Hughie; more girthy at least. You'd almost forgotten how big he was. You know for certain your jaw is going to hurt tomorrow.

 “Take a picture, it'll last longer Luv,” he smirks above you. Still grinding against Hughie you reach out to grab the base and jerk him a few times. Leaning forward you give him a few speculative licks. Usually, Hughie preferred to take your mouth, it's been so long since you've blown anyone you are a little intimidated by his size. All your inhibitions fade away the moment you put your mouth around his thick head. It's salty but not unbearable, you can taste the day's sweat on him.

Lust Clouds your mind as you practically bury his cock in your mouth, gagging slightly as you reach the base. Butcher groans loudly through gritted teeth and this only solidifies how badly you want to please him. It takes every atom in his body for Butcher not to skull fuck you right then. You look just perfect, lipstick smudged spit dripping down your chin and your puffy stolen lips wrapped around his cock. If he had his phone he'd take a photo. It'd be a shame to not save this moment. 

Behind you, Hughie is growing more and more impatient.  Trying to get your attention by licking a stripe up your back and tentatively grinding his thumb against your ass. “Hey don't forget about me Y/n. I’m still here too,” he whines, grinding himself against your taint.

He certainly wasn't this needy last time he, you and Butcher fucked, then again, he had two people stimulating him at once. Where was all his assertiveness from earlier?  “I didn't forget” you mumble around Butcher. “You are going to have to speak up if you want the lad to hear you Luv. You've got a bit of cock in your mouth.” A Bit was definitely an understatement. 

Smirking he pulls you off his cock with a pop. “Butcher get on your knees and Hughie hold on to my waist okay?” Both men do as they are told, either neither of them had any energy to protest or they were both too horny to care. “Hughie, I'm going to ease myself onto you okay? Don't start to thrust until I say so.” you look back over your shoulder and see his tongue dart out to wet his lips as he nods. 

Taking as you get back onto your hands and knees you are startled by a warm wet sensation prodding at your ass. “Are you okay Y/n?Did I do something wrong?” he quickly pulls away from your ass and you almost instinctively push his face back against you. “I'll take that as a no then.” Hughie smiles and presses his mouth flush against your ass again. Practically making out with your asshole.

 You arch your back and grind yourself against his mouth. Letting our a loud almost pornographic moan. “That's a bloody delicious sight. You've got a lot more balls than I thought son.” Butcher supplies leaning back and pulling your chin towards his now aching cock.  Lolling your tongue out he places his shaft back into your mouth jerking himself off into your mouth. You close your swollen lips around his head and start bobbing again. 

When you feel that you are sufficiently wet you pull away from Hughie’s mouth and playfully move your hips side to side to prompt him. Slipping Butcher out of your mouth you give the younger man a verbal cue. “You can put it in now Hughie, don't worry, she doesn't bite.” he and Butcher chuckle gently at your crude joke as he lines up the blunt head of his cock and starts to push in. 

 “Mmmm’ you moan out as he pushes in deeper. His hand snakes around your waist to pull you closer to him. “Just a bit more.” he groans. “Fuck, you are so tightt.” you feel his bottom out inside you and almost leap at the opportunity to grind your hips back against him. The slight burn of his intrusion feels fucking good. Hughie seems to think the same thing as he starts to thrust into you. 

Leaning forward you shove Butcher back into your mouth hungry for his cock. Quickly taking in the entirety of him without gagging at his size.  All three of you moan in unison as your bodies wetly connect. You grind your hips into Hughie's slowly, careful not to let an inch out of you. “You can be a little rougher than that with her son, you aren't gonna break her. She can take it. Cant you?” he looks down at you. “Yeah, she's a tough little thing. I bet you if we actually wanted to break her we couldn't.” 

With every thrust of his hips, Hughie can feel himself getting more and more wrecked. You’re just so perfectly tight. The way your ass is clapping against his hips looks just like the porn he had watched earlier that week. Unlike the girl in the video, he could tell that you were enjoying yourself. Leaning forward a bit he locks his hand with yours and starts to whisper gently into your ear as he teases and pinches your nipple.

“Y/n  fuck, I'm so close already. You are so good to us. So good to me. Taking me so deeply. Do you think I could feel my cock in your ass if I stuck a few fingers in that greedy pussy of yours?” He punctuates the last few words with some particularly hard thrusts, feeling you clench around him. Removing his hand from your nipple he slips 3 of his fingers into your needy pussy which sends you over the edge. Suddenly clamping around him with a vice-like grip you cum, hard. Your slick wetness gushing down his fingers. Pulling off of the butcher's cock you cry out an unintelligible string of words.

The sudden tightness around him sends Hughie over the edge too. His warm cum spills into you. His hips spasming as he stuffs your ass with his cum. Harder and harder until he collapses onto you. Kissing your neck and back. Looking up through your eyelashes you can tell Butcher is close too.

Lust clouding his eyes he pulls your head forward and you quickly engulf him in your mouth and let him fuck your throat to completion. His grunts and groans make you wetter and wetter every second. “Open your mouth Y/n.” Butcher gruffly pulls himself out of your mouth to roughly jerk himself off on our tongue. Throwing his head back he cums in your mouth. Not wanting to waste anything you wrap your lips around him and let him finish in your throat. Rope after rope of his seed slipping down your abused throat.

“Fuck me” he moans. “I needed that.” all three of you collapse into a mess of bodies and try to come down from your intense orgasm. “That was fucking good.” you all say in unison. “Fucking good.” you conceded. “Although I wish my pussy got a little more attention.” you playfully frown. “I do find it a bit unfair that both you and Hughie got to cum more than once while I've just had my first O.” Butcher pouts 

“Well, what do you suggest?” Hughie questions innocently. 

[thedawningofthehour]

Ok, I was going to post this earlier but got distracted.

I don't know much about fallout, everything I know is thanks to geek osmosis. In fact, at first I didn't even know fallout was a video game, the first time I heard about fallout was because of this massive My little pony fanfic called Fallout Equestria (you have to be massive to get a physical hardcover release and an audio book).

I've never played a fallout game, I'm more of a JRpg/platformer person, But I'm still very interested about a Fallout ROTTMNT AU.

What I mean, is that you can use this question as an excuse to spill all your ideas, come on, let's ramble.

I know about Fallout Equestria, but I was never into MLP so I've never really dipped into it. It's kind of a meme in the Fallout community.

I haven't really thought about it much lately, I've been kind of busy the past few days. One thing I did think about is that Donnie would absolutely want to join the Brotherhood of Steel, except they hate mutants. So maybe he just goes off and creates his own Brotherhood. With mutants and hookers. (but he keeps the chivalry nonsense and flightsuits that make everyone's asses look great) He probably steals Liberty Prime. Not even for any specific purpose, just to annoy them. And to say he has a giant robot.

Part of it also depends on if we're still basing them in New York or not, there's a big divide between the games set on the east and west coasts due to the physical distance between them and the lack of easy travel/communication in the post-apocalypse, not to mention to discrepancy in recovery and development between the areas. (the East Coast was very heavily targeted during the Great War, with some accounts stating that New York was entirely reduced to a smoking crater, while the West Coast had a number of successful control vaults and thus had a large population of unirradiated people ready to repopulate and had the education and technology to reestablish a functional society) Assuming we base our AU in the 'current' Fallout era, (Fallout 3 and 4 take place in 2277 and 2287 respectively) the Brotherhood is operating in the northeast and almost certainly passed over NYC to get to Boston from DC. The Enclave is pretty much destroyed in 2277 but there are still remnants around. The Railroad is operating as far south as DC, so New York is well within their range. The Institute could be doing their nonsense. The Minutemen I think has a bit of a range beyond Boston proper, (I don't think Preston lived anywhere you can visit before the Quincy Massacre, he doesn't seem overly familiar with any area besides the places he mentions having passed through on the flight to Concord) Fallout 3 factions are all pretty small, due to the intense tribalism. There's the Children of Atom, I guess? I could see them being obsessed with the boys.

...Leo would probably join a radiation cult, that sounds like the kind of dumb shit he'd get into.

[astranva]

TikTok Duets

Word Count: 1.4k

Category: Fluff

Warning: Some strong language

Summary: In which @finelinevogue’s hho!reader and Harry duet TikTok fan edits together.

Can be read independently but would be more fun if you read el’s fic. x

a/n: collab with my lovie <3333 i want to thank el because i was having a major block and she was v patient with me. her hho universe feels strangely personal to me, so i’m so fucking happy i get to be a small, tiny part of it xx

.. 

There were a lot of things you appreciated in life, and as someone who vlogs for a living, you appreciated it when anyone edited any video at all.

You were no stranger to the fan edits on TikTok; the thirst traps, the funny trends, the story times, you watched it all.

Harry’s fans always joked about your presence on TikTok, commenting “DELETE THIS BEFORE Y/N SEES THIS” or “I’LL BE SO EMBARRASSED IF Y/N SEES THIS” and it only made things fun when you did, in fact, see their content, sometimes even commenting:

“You lot are UNHINGED”

“teenagers scare the living shit out of me”

“i’m showing this to your parents”

“showed this to harry. thanks for paying for therapy”

The friendly banter and in-jokes you had with fans created a connection and bond that was so unique that Harry continuously joked about how jealous he was:

“They come to my shows to see you. This isn’t fair, it’s about me!”

It was especially fun when you dragged Harry into the dark hole that was TikTok, and that night was no different.

In the white t-shirt merch that had the picture of Harry with his moustache, your back was against Harry’s chest, who was wearing a blue Bode sweatshirt that had minimalist illustrations with an “I’d rather work in a barn” text, hair held back by one of your bright clips.

Your faces were shown beside the TikTok video you were duetting, eyes focused on the video you chose to blindly react to.

The video to play, text wobbling as it read “Harry & Y/N happy moments pt.3” before it moved, showing a bit from the behind the scenes of As It Was, Harry’s hands under your armpits as you both were on the spinning plate.

“Trust me,” Harry was seen mouthing, before he lifted you, your arms spread out as you audibly giggled.

“I was so sure you’d drop me,” you said.

“I told you to trust me,” Harry replied with a bemused smile.

“That’s the point,” you made a face, “I don’t,” you mumbled jokingly.

“Heyyyy,” he laughed.

The video then showed another bit, this time a snippet from when you vlogged the ONO in NYC.

“Harry!” You sang his name before the video cut to when the camera moved above your heads and to the side, capturing the moment you both kissed before it was edited so it was zoomed on Harry’s face–Harry’s grinning, almost bashful, and excited face.

You pouted, glancing back at Harry before looking back at your phone, “That’s like the cutest thing ever.”

Harry stayed silent, responding by tightening his arms around you and leaving a quick kiss to your head.

The video then moved to show another one of your YouTube video bits, that one being from when you were rating few of Harry’s outfits.

“...you honestly look like you’re a housewife,” You had giggled in the video, your hand moving to stroke Harry’s cheek, “My little bitch.”

“Excuse you!” Harry had gasped before his hand was seen moving and the sound of him slapping your ass was heard before you let out a gasp. 

“Ow, you fucking twat!”

“No because for real, that one was hard–It was personal, H,” you said, pointing at your phone with your free hand which wasn’t holding it.

“No, it wasn’t,” Harry joked as he mumbled.

“Are you gaslighting me?” 

Comments:

user1 @videocreator CONGRATSSS THEY DUETED YOU!!!

user2 “are you gaslighting me” STOP SHE’S EFFORTLESSLY FUNNY

user3 haha that’s such a cute video *sleeps on the highway*

user4 the fact that y/n has tiktok scares me

What fans that night hadn’t expected was seeing that you had dueted 5 other videos, all while you and Harry were in the same cuddling position.

The second TikTok you both duetted was of someone painting you and Harry; it was a picture you knew many fans had loved and considered a classic. Harry’s arms were around your shoulders from behind, his chin on your shoulder as he grinned a grin that matched yours, your eyes closed as your lips were stretched into the biggest smile.

“Why am I actually nervous?” You asked, laughing as you watched the time lapse of the painting getting done.

“I’m wondering who they’re painting,” Harry, being a comedian, said.

You giggled, having a broken sense of humor that moment. Your eyebrows went up as they finished coloring Harry, jaw falling.

“I don’t think–I don’t really think they’ve done a good job with you.”

“Y/N!” Harry gasped, dragging your name.

“No, seriously, you don’t look that handsome in real life.” 

Comments:

user1 HUMBLED HIM

user2 telling harry styles that he isn’t very handsome irl feels illegal 

user3 me and y/n besties when?

user4 imagine being married to harry styles and making fun of him so casually

For another video, a sped-up sound of Taylor Swift’s Lover played over a bright edit of you and Harry from NYC’s listening party.

The video was bright as it showed you holding Harry’s hand before he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your head. It then moved to show as you painted the As It Was mural, you looking engrossed in coloring the middle part of a flower before Harry ran his brush and pink paint over your hand.

“Fun fact,” you said, “It took us so long to wipe that paint and actually get rid of it.”

“I think it took us all night,” Harry said, pointing at your phone as the video showed as you ran your own brush over his hand, leaving a stroke of yellow on his skin, “We had this–this pink and yellow paint for at least a day.”

“None of that would’ve happened if you had just, I don’t know, let me be.”

“You know I can never do that,” He replied, smiling cheekily as he moved slightly to look at your face before kissing your cheek repeatedly, the video ending with you both giggling.

Comments:

user1 I CAN’T HANDLE THIS

user2 they’re the couple you tease for being so in love but lowkey envy because you want to have sth like them

user3 harry and y/n duetting a video with a taylor song 😭😭😭😭

user4 he’s so in love with her i’m literally crying

And then another duetted TikTok video.

“Harry and Y/N being clumsy dorks” a text said over a black screen, a sped-up version of Lights by Ellie Goulding playing.

The video began with Harry in 2010, slipping on stage in his iconic blazer.

You burst out laughing, covering your mouth with your hand as you tried to stifle your giggles as they then added another video from 2017 of him falling on stage, “You fucking knob!”

Harry frowned jokingly, although he was giggling, “You-Oh, there we go, there we go!” He said, watching as the video moved to show one of you that seemingly a fan had shot of you from afar in the open area of the arena, about to hop on a skateboard before you slipped. Harry laughed, “Look at that! Look at you!”

“Oh shut up!” You laughed.

The video then showed another clip of you from one of your vlogs; your camera propped up as it showed you walking into a glass door.

“You had a red bump for two days after that,” Harry cooed, kissing your head.

“You poked me in it so many times,” you reminded him.

With that video ending, fans then watched the last one.

Need to Know by Doja Cat and Desperado by Rihanna were mashed up, Doja singing the second verse to Desperado’s music as it showed Harry with his eyes closed, mouth close to the mic in a show as the video was slowed down, tilting his head back.

“This is literally catfish,” you said, “He’s not that hot in real life, lovies.”

“Oh fuck ooooff,” Harry laughed, blushing as he tried to avoid watching the thirst trap edit made about him.

“H is the type of person to put his t-shirt behind his ears to, like, get them to stick out when he’s taking off his t-shirt and like, he’ll crouch and all,” you said to the screen of your phone, “Forget the hip thrusts,” you shook your head before pointing behind you at Harry, “This man is the biggest fucking catfish ev–Harry, stop!” You squealed out a laugh as Harry nuzzled his head in your neck the same moment he took your phone, the video ending.

Comments:

user1 WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN

user2 stop i imagined harry with his t-shirt half-off and behind his ears 😭

user3 y/n humbling harry like it’s a full time job <333

user4 WHY DID I LITERALLY CRY AT THIS WHY DO I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

[keanureevesisbae]

Ever After Boutique - chapter 1

Summary: It's Frankee's first day at work

CEO!Henry Cavill x Frankee Newhouse

Wordcount: 2.4k

Warnings: None

Masterlist // Ever After Boutique Masterlist //

On a scale of one to ten, how self obsessed does it sound when I tell my boss that I’m late on my first day of work, because I was too busy taking pictures of myself?

I fear a good twelve.

While I’m not really too keen on this very slow cab driver, this does give me the best excuse to tell my boss, so I’ll take this as a fortunate win. However, my leg cannot stop bouncing up and down and I wipe my clammy hands on the seat of the cab.

Oh no, I’m very very nervous.

It’s not just any store I’m starting at today. Ever After Boutique is the most high end clothing store of the entirety of New York City—if not the whole country—and now I get to work there! Finally my hard work on maintaining a decent and very fashionable Instagram profile with tons of outfit pictures paid off: the Leona St. Johns, manager of Ever After, send me a DM to ask me if I wanted to come in for a job interview.

Honestly, did she think I would say no? This has been the greatest opportunity I’ve ever gotten! Working at Ever After Boutique? I think I let out the highest pitched scream once she promised this wasn’t a scam and realization truly kicked in that there was a chance of me working at the boutique of NYC.

Back when I was younger, my parents were the first victims of me and my baby steps into the world of fashion. When I told them I wanted to study Fashion at NYU, my dad wasn’t that big of a fan. First of all, he didn’t like me moving from sunny Florida, to New York City and second of all, studying fashion wasn’t a study with a secure future.

I agreed. Of course I knew this, but fashion was my life. This was and is what I was born to do. I know not many people make it in this world, but deep down I felt I was gonna be the one that would make it.

So dad caved—like he usually does anyways—paid for a studio apartment in Soho and my tuition. I still live in said studio in Soho and usually it takes around thirty minutes to get to the Upper East Side, but it’s chaos at this time.

When we haven’t moved for over five minutes, I realize this is useless and it would be a whole lot faster if I would just walk to my job. Sure, the heels aren’t ideal, but I’ll manage. I feel like I’ve been walking on heels since my senior prom, so I’ll think this’ll go fine.

Besides, it’s not raining now.

The weather has been absolutely dreadful this fall, with a lot of rainstorms, thunder and just shitty weather all together. I had my romanticized fall walks all planed out. A cute hat, some coffee, some funky boots, but I’m not going to defy the harsh winds, rainstorms and puddles of disgusting brown grayish mud.

After I paid the driver and got out of the cab, I start walking in between the loads of people who are also desperate to get to work. I can already see the boutique and though I’ve walked passed this place quite a few times, it just hits different now.

Leona invited me to a coffee place for our job interview, so today will be my first time in the boutique as an employee. This is the boutique where I’m gonna spend a lot of my time.

And I cannot wait.

I take a deep breath, before I open the door and walk in. ‘Hello?’ I ask.

The door at the back of the counter opens and I see Leona, the woman who I had my job interview with, the same woman who reached out to me on Instagram, who thought I had an amazing sense of style.

She has her long bob straightened today, dangerously high black stiletto’s and a grey pants suit that looks stunning on her. However, she doesn’t look amused. ‘You’re late,’ she says, placing her hand on the counter, tapping her nails against the wood.

Oh, I already fucked up.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I say. ‘I couldn’t help it.’ I was so busy taking pictures of me in this gorgeous blue set that I totally lost track of time. ‘Traffic sucked. I had no idea it would be this crowded on the road. I’ll be on time tomorrow and all the times after that.’

Leona smirks. ‘Just messing with you. Vivvi, one of the other girls, was late the first three months she worked here. You’ll be fine.’

‘I heard that and I can’t help it that I have zero sense of direction. New York is very crowded in the mornings and I just lost my orientation for a few months.’ A beautiful girl with legs to die for walks out of another door with a box in her hand. ‘Oh my, is this the super awesome Frankee whose name ends with double E?’ She places the box on the floor in the middle of the boutique and on her high heeled boots trots over to me. ‘You are so cool. Leona showed me all of your pictures on Instagram. Maybe you noticed me following you.’

She turns around her phone and shows me her account on her very broken screen. Geez, I can barely read what’s on there, how does one function with these types of cracks in their screen?

@thisisvivvi

‘Uh, I haven’t noticed yet,’ I say, a little bit taken aback. ‘I’m Frankee, nice to meet you.’

‘I am Vivvi,’ she says with a smile. ‘It’s so cool having you here. Leona told us a lot about you.’

Vivvi is beautiful and I wonder why she is working here, instead of being a model. She has the face, the body and the height for it. I gave up on a modeling career when I wasn’t growing any taller than 5’4. Besides, I don’t think I’d be suited for a catwalk career. I start walking funny when a construction worker lurks at me, imagine what would happen if people with an actual sense of style look in my direction.

‘Viv, I’ve been calling you for a good minute now. Are you deaf?’ Another woman enters the store through the same door Vivvi just walked through. She places the box on the floor as well and runs her fingers through her blonde hairs. ‘Oh, hi, Frankee. Nice to meet you. I’m Amanda. Beware, Vivvi is the laziest co-worker you’ll ever meet.’ She looks so serious, so I’m not really too sure whether or not she is joking or if she means it.

‘Okay, you girls open up, I’m gonna give Frankee a little tour,’ Leona says. ‘Walk with me. I’ll show you where you can put your coat, your stuff and where we eat our lunch.’

✰ ✰ ✰

Conclusion: working at Ever After Boutique is absolutely amazing. Leona showed me everything. The register, the storage in the back and the break room where you also place your bag and all and where Leona does her paperwork.

Honestly, this is the place I was born to work at.

Surrounded by fashionable people, sweet customers and people actually appreciating your outfits for a change—unlike the other stores I used to work at. It’s a dream come true.

‘So,’ Vivvi says, ‘you’re quite the catch. You are probably one of the most hard working girls here.’

‘Excuse me?’ Amanda says. ‘I’m literally cleaning up behind your flat pancake ass.’

‘My ass isn’t flat. Just a little bit hidden.’ Vivvi cocks her eyebrows at Amanda, before turning to me again. ‘Anyways, Frankee, you are so amazing. You know, I’ve been following you for a while. You are so super duper awesome in real life.’

She knows how to flatter me. ‘Oh thanks,’ I say with a smile.

‘Oh, look at that,’ Amanda says, who still isn’t too sure about me being here and whether or not I deserve it. ‘It’s mrs. Kensington.’ It’s the way she says the customer’s name, that makes me suspicious. ‘Frankee, how about you help her out?’

Vivvi gulps. ‘Amanda, are you sure?’

‘Mhm, show us what you can do.’ Amanda smirks, almost like she’s daring me and cannot wait for me to fail.

But I’m never too afraid of a challenge. I know what I can do and I will definitely show her that I can take mrs. Kensington.

‘Be right back,’ I say with a confident smile, before turning on my heels and make my way to mrs. Kensington. ‘Good afternoon,’ I say with a gentle customer service smile, ‘how can I help you?’

Mrs. Kensington is the type of lady my great aunt was when she was still alive. Very classy, rich and posh. This woman has earrings in that is probably worth the same amount of what I spend on my apartment every month.

I wish later on in life I can look like her, or at least live my life like her, because that is the ultimate goal obviously.

Mrs. Kensington checks me out, almost as she is evaluating my outfit and decides whether or not she wants to be helped by a girl like me. ‘Hmm,’ she says, before adding: ‘I have an appointment with the senator.’

Oh wait, she’s that type of rich lady? Okay, never mind, I don’t want to be her anymore. I want an easy rich life, just sipping wine in my satin robe at my mansion: not meeting with senators I didn’t even vote for.

‘I see,’ I say.

‘And I need to look splendid.’

‘Figured,’ I say. ‘You have a color you’d like to wear?’

‘That’s where you come in handy, sweetness.’ Is she genuinely nice to me or is this the fake nice facade some rich ladies have, but that is more the hide their secretly racist nature?

‘I need something to match this necklace.’ She shows me a cobalt blue diamond around her neck and I manage to keep in my gasp.

‘How about you take a seat right there,’ I suggest, motioning towards the chairs near the dressing rooms, ‘and I’ll be right back.’

She seems impressed, but I still have to figure out whether or not she means it. ‘Alright,’ she says, her lips tightly pursed together.

I quickly manage to get myself towards the storage room, because I saw something there and I know it’s the same color her diamond was. After rummaging through some clothing on their hanger, I finally find it. The sheath like silhouette is perfect for mrs. Kensington.

We’re supposed to get it in the store tomorrow, Amanda and Leona told me, but this is exactly what mrs. Kensington is supposed to wear to her meeting with the senator. I quickly get the right size (I have an eye for estimating the sizes right, especially when it comes to ladies her age—the only useful skill I have thanks to the old lady boomer stores I previously worked at) and rush back into the store. I grab a purse and some shoes that I know will look amazing with the entire outfit.

‘Mrs. Kensington,’ I say with a smile, ‘here you go. Let me know if you need any help.’ I hang up the dress and place the shoes and purse on the stool, before holding the curtain to the side for her.

She seems impressed again, but this time I think she means it.

‘I’ll let you know, sweetness.’

I close the curtain for mrs. Kensington and nervously wait, as doubts and fears fill my mind. What if I completely miscalculated her size and it’s way too small or big for her? What if the shoes aren’t correct?

Vivvi gives me a thumbs up and smiles brightly, while Amanda is waiting, running her hand through her blonde hairs, almost as if she is waiting for me to fail miserably.

I hear a gasp coming from the dressing room and I blink my eyes fast. Shit, I totally screwed up.

The curtain slides aside and I see mrs. Kensington with…

A smile on her face?

‘Sweetness, you are amazing!’ she exclaims and now I know for sure: she genuinely means it.

‘Well, you look gorgeous,’ I say to her.

‘Thanks to you. I look ten pounds lighter and at least five years younger. Darling, you are fabulous. What’s your name?’

‘Frankee,’ I say.

‘Well, Frankee, I want every piece of it. Including the purse. Goodness, you are fantastic!’

After she got dressed into her own clothes again, I grab the dress, shoes and purse and walk towards the register.

At that exact moment Leona exits the door behind the counter and mrs. Kensington gains her attention. ‘Leona, dear, I have to tell you that this Frankee is something! Never ever let her go.’

Leona smiles. ‘I’m glad to hear she is doing so well on her first day.’

‘It’s your first day?’ Mrs. Kensington seems delighted. ‘Oh, dear, you are a gift from the heavens. I’ll be coming back very soon soon, because thanks to you I look like a million bucks for this meeting. I bet I’ll have another dinner soon and I want you to become my personal stylist.’ After she paid and I hand her the bag with items, she blows me a kiss and says: ‘Thank you, Frankee dear.’

When she walks out of the door, I let out a sigh. ‘I did well?’

‘Oh my goodness,’ Vivvi screams, ‘you did perfectly fantastic! You are even more awesome than you already were. You somehow managed to make mrs. Kensington appear like less of a bitch!’

‘Language, Viv,’ Leona says.

‘Sorry, but I just got so excited,’ Vivvi apologizes. ‘When I had to help her, she made me cry. I never expected her to be so kind and lovely.’

Amanda nods. ‘Well done, Frankee. Didn’t know you had it in you.’

‘I don’t want you to leave, ever!’ Vivvi says, walking around the counter to give me a hug. ‘You are fantastic, Frankee Newhouse, absolutely fantastic.’

✰ ✰ ✰

After a wonderful day at Ever After Boutique, I arrive home, at my studio still floating a bit on cloud nine. The second I let my purse slide off my shoulder, I realize how dog tired I am.

However, it was all worth it. This boutique, my colleagues (I still have to meet another of my colleagues, but Vivvi told me she was lovely) and just the overall vibe and aesthetic is absolutely everything I ever wished for. Everything the other boutiques weren’t.

I plop on the couch and let out a content sigh. This is the life I’ve always wanted, I always dreamed about.

And now it’s finally mine.

✰ ✰ ✰

Taglist: @diegos-butt // @thelastsock // @crazybutconfidentaf // @christhickevans // @nothingbettertosay81 // @funfickgirl22 // @oddsnendsfanfics // @omgkatinka // @myloveforhenrycavill // @lyrarodriguez // @enchantedbytomandhenry // @a-little-counter-esperanto // @liecastillo // @sofiebstar // @sunshine96love // @abschaffer2 // @greensleeves888 // @thereisa8ella //

[phoebe-delia]

Hello! What's your favorite musical and why?

Hello Starry!! Thank you for always being an absolutely incredible writer, friend, and person. Your asks and your fics are such gifts to the Drarry community and fandom as a whole.

Now, that being said, I get to rant about one of my favorite things ever. "Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812."

Before I go any further, I will say that I've already posted a little rant about why the show was robbed at the Tonys and deserved better in general, but now I get to talk more about what makes it so special.

Now, onto the fun part!

First, some background. This musical was written by Dave Malloy. It's based on a 90-page slice of Leo Tolstoy's "War and Peace." I won't spoil the plot more than that because this is the kind of show that really ought to speak for itself.

I'm not a musicals expert, but I've loved Broadway since I was a child. If you'd asked me when I was younger what my favorite show was, I'd have listed off several and said something witty about how it was like having to choose between my children.

But now I can say, unequivocally, that Great Comet is my all-time favorite show.

And it is weird.

For starters, it almost never rhymes. There's only one song, "Dust and Ashes," that has any kind of rhyme scheme. It also incorporates a ton of different genres: electropop, traditional ballad, Russian music, R&B, folk, and others.

But it works. It works so, so well.

Every time I listen to the soundtrack, I find something new to appreciate. It's deceptively simple, with seemingly ordinary lyrics that hold a lot of complexity, especially when paired with the nuanced orchestrations.

Oh, and that's not even to mention the set design. I'd try to describe it, but I couldn't do it justice. You can see it here. There are also seats on the stage and tables scattered throughout the theater, meant to be reminiscent of a sort of Russian club/theater.

I was fortunate enough to see Comet twice on Broadway. The second time I saw it was with a summer program in NYC I attended for journalism in high school. I sort of begged my way into getting the opportunity to interview Mimi Lien, who was the set designer for the show. She'd just won a Tony for her work on Comet. It was my very first interview and my very first article. The article is no longer online, which is honestly fine with me since it wasn't well written, but I have a copy somewhere, and I have a recording of the interview. To this day it's the coolest thing I've ever done.

Anyway, in the interview, Lien said that Dave Malloy traveled to Moscow to research Russian club culture, and he incorporated the music and the ambiance of Russian clubs and theaters into the show and the experience as a whole.

And it was successful. They handed out delicious pierogis before the show, egg shakers during a fast song, and little hand-written notes during a song about letters. The experience is like no other I've ever had with live theater. Every detail, every single aspect of the show is deliberate and utterly genius.

If you listen, I highly suggest having the Wikipedia plot page open as you do to help you keep track. There also may or may not be "slime tutorials" available on Youtube.

Also, Comet is unique in that there is both a Broadway and off-Broadway cast recording. I'd suggest starting with the Broadway version since it has Josh Groban as Pierre and Denee Benton as Natasha. The rest of the cast is the exact same off-Broadway, except Natasha is played by Phillipa Soo and Pierre is played by Dave Malloy; Pippa has a great voice, though Dave's is more of an acquired taste. Besides, the OBC recording has a fuller orchestra, which enhances it greatly.

I cannot express enough how much I adore this show. It's truly perfect. I can't compare it to anything else; it's in a league and a category of its own. I wouldn't change a single note.

Thank you again, Starry, for this ask! It was so fun and it gave me an excuse to listen to Comet--not that I need one lol. <3

Send me an ask about Harry Potter, broadway/musicals, The West Wing, and/or Taylor Swift! Or just about life in general :).

Also, I have a playlist of my 99 most listened-to songs of the year so far. Pick a number 1--99 and send me an ask and I'll write you a fic based on it!

[marjansmarwani]

that’s alright, my heart is okay

2.8k || ao3

The Reyes come to dinner, Owen shows up late (with the limes), and TK has some words with his father. But most of all: Carlos has a victory, and TK and Carlos share some moments. -------- A 2x11 coda

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

Yes this coda took me forever to write, but here it is: the dinner scene I wish we had gotten to see. 

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

It was the third muttered curse that brought TK into the kitchen. The first two had caused him to look up from where he was setting the table, but the third slightly louder and forceful “fuck” from his usually even-tempered boyfriend grabbed his notice. 

“Anything I can help with?” he asked as he stepped into the kitchen area, surveying the scene to locate the subject of Carlos’s ire. 

“No,” Carlos responded, voice weary and full of frustration. “I just can’t get this damn sauce to thicken.” 

“Maybe add more cornstarch?” TK suggested. “What?” he said defensively when his boyfriend tossed him a surprised look, “I pay attention! How could I not,” he added, stepping closer and placing his hands lightly on Carlos’s hips as he closed the distance, pressing himself against the other mans’ back, “watching you in the kitchen might just be one of my favorite pastimes. It’s really something to behold.” 

He was rewarded by the sensation of Carlos’s body shedding some of its tension at his touch and a slight shiver as TK’s words brushed across the exposed skin of his neck. He pressed a light kiss on the side of his neck and watched as he took a deep breath. 

“You’re right, that should help. Could you grab it for me?” 

TK pulled himself away from Carlos to cross to the cupboard with the backing ingredients. He grabbed the box of cornstarch and headed back to Carlos, stopping short and holding the box just out of his reach. “Only if you relax,” he said and Carlos raised an eyebrow. 

“Is this a negotiation?” 

“Yes,” TK confirmed. “I hate seeing you so tense. They’re your parents, Carlos. They love you and that’s not going to change, no matter how runny the sauce is.” 

“I know that,” he admitted, looking back down at the pan simmering on the stove. “I just want everything to be perfect. It’s their first time officially meeting you, and I want them to love you as much as I do.” 

“I hope not,” TK quipped, “that could get awkward.” When Carlos didn’t return his grin, he sobered. “I get why you’re nervous,” he admitted, “I’m nervous too. But stressing over the food or swearing at your stove isn’t going to change that. All we can do is relax and be ourselves because that’s who we want them to see. Us, just like we always are. We make a pretty good team, remember?” 

Carlos turned down the burner and stepped closer, wrapping a hand around the arm holding the cornstarch and pulling it down so he could step closer to TK, “We do,” he asked with a soft smile, “don’t we?” 

“Always have and always will,” TK confirmed. “Besides, if we can handle my parents, we can handle anything.” 

Carlos chuckled and leaned forward, stealing a kiss before he stepped away again, holding the cornstarch. “There is that,” he agreed. 

---------

Carlos is surprised by how normal it all is. 

From the moment his parents arrive, they fall into a rhythm. His mother apologizes for messing up TK’s name that one time, his dad gives him shit about it. TK jumps in, tossing him a teasing smile and then they’re all smiling. There is the brief crisis of the limes but TK swoops in, saving him from his own anxiety as he so often does. From there though, things go smoothly. He watches, a fond smile on his lips as TK patiently answers all his mother’s questions about growing up in NYC only to turn the tables and get her going about stories of his own childhood. He fakes a scowl when his boyfriend grins at him after a particularly embarrassing story, but he knows it doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s pretty sure it’s impossible to feel anything but complete bliss at this moment: watching his parents banter and laugh with the man he loves in the home that they share. It felt so surreal, but also so right. 

After a few more stories though, he felt the need to stand up for himself: “Mami,” he protested in a tone just short of a whine as his mother finished telling TK of the time he had run through the family bbq naked at the ripe age of 2. “Really?” 

“It’s cute!” she defended, and he shot a look at TK when he snickered. 

“Oh c’mon Carlos,” he retorted, grinning at him, “it’s not like you haven’t heard all the embarrassing stories from both my parents already. It’s only fair that I get some from your childhood as well.” 

Carlos rolled his eyes, but he had to concede the point. Both Owen and Gwyn had been more than willing to share stories from TK’s youth during their time spent at the Strand house - there had even been pictures involved. But the mention of TK’s parents brought something else to mind. 

“Did your dad say where he was on his way from?” he asked lightly, not wanting to cause any undue worry, “it’s been a while.”

Too long for the two mile distance between the two homes, he added to himself. 

Though he didn’t verbalize his concern he could see TK coming to the same conclusion as he frowned and glanced at the clock on his phone. He bit at his lip before he rose from the table, phone in hand. “I’m going to call him real quick,” he said, “excuse me.” 

He stepped away and Carlos tracked him with his eyes, well aware of the panic TK was trying to hide. TK placed the call and Carlos pulled his eyes back to his parents who were both watching him. 

“¿Todo bien, mijo?” his mother asked softly. 

“Sí,” he responded quickly but when his dad raised a skeptical eyebrow he sighed, “Owen had surgery a few days ago, and TK’s worried. He’s not exactly known for taking it easy and TK is concerned he’s going to push himself too hard.” 

“What kind of surgery?” his father asked. 

“To remove the last of a tumor from his lung,” Carlos responded absently, his gaze turning back to TK who was lowering the phone from his ear with an anxious look. He got up from the table, crossing over to where TK stood in the living room. 

“Hey,” he asked gently, “what’s going on?” 

“He didn’t answer,” TK told him, looking at him with fearful eyes. “Carlos, what if…”

“No,” Carlos said firmly, “don’t go there, Ty.” 

“I can’t help it. What if he tried to do too much and put too much strain on his lungs? What if…”

“Try calling him again,” Carlos urged, “maybe he just didn’t hear his phone the first time. If he doesn’t pick up, we’ll figure something out.” 

TK took a deep breath and nodded, tapping at his phone again and lifting it back up to his ear. Carlos watched anxiously as it rang, heart sinking when the voicemail picked up again. TK met his eyes and Carlos hated that they were so full of fear. 

“Okay,” he said evenly, “we can go over there, just to make sure everything’s okay.” 

“But your parents…” 

“Will understand,” Carlos said firmly. “Don’t worry about it, I’m sure everything’s fine. It’s probably just a simple mix up.” 

Before TK could respond the phone in his hand began to vibrate. He barely gave the screen a glance before he answered it, speaking quickly into the phone, “Dad? Are you okay?” 

“Of course I am, sorry I missed your calls. I just got tied up while running errands, I’m on my way now. I’ll see you all in a few minutes.” 

TK hung up the phone and looked at Carlos, who gave him a smile, “See,” he tried, “he’s fine.”

“Is he though?” 

“What,” Carlos asked, “you think he’s lying?” 

“You don’t?” 

Carlo had to concede that it all did sound fairly suspicious, but there was no point in dwelling on it now. “He’s on his way here and we can figure it out then,” he said instead. “It’s going to be fine.”

TK took another deep breath, chasing away the last remnants of panic before he nodded, squeezing Carlos’s hand. 

“You’re right,” he agreed, “and we should really get back to your parents, we’re being rude.” 

Before Carlos could so much as protest, TK was crossing the room and sliding back into his seat at the table, a wide and bright grin plastered on his face; masking the anxiety Carlos knew was still roiling through him. He followed suit and the easy conversation flowed between them - TK as it’s eager facilitator - until there was a knock on their front door a few minutes later, as promised. 

Carlos watched as TK crossed to the front door, opening it to reveal his father, holding a bag of limes triumphantly. 

“I hope this means Margaritas,” he said jovially, his bravado never wavering under TK’s analytical gaze. He offered no explanation for his prolonged absence and after a moment, TK seemed to accept the inevitable as he stepped aside to let his dad in. 

He gave no indication that he was anything less than perfectly content as he facilitated the introductions, but when Carlos caught his eyes out of the gaze of the others he shook his head and Carlos understood: he wasn’t letting it go, but he would wait. He was almost certain his boyfriend had zero intention on letting his father leave their home tonight without answers. 

So he followed suit, squeezing TK’s arm in silent support as they passed in the kitchen; following along as he made conversation. Despite the tension it was still an enjoyable night and Carlos was still marveling at how easy this all felt. It felt as if it should have always been. This was further reinforced as his mother insisted on joining him in the kitchen to put the final touches on dinner. 

As they stood side by side, transferring the food from the pans to platters she leaned into his space, placing a hand on his wrist and squeezing it gently. “I like him Carlitos,” she whispered, eyes on the group at the table, TK laughing at something Gabriel had said. Carlos followed her gaze and could help but smile wider when TK met his eyes. 

“I like him too, Mami,” he agreed, “an awful lot.” 

She smiled at him, eyes moist as he patted his wrist again, “I’m so happy for you, mijo. All I’ve ever wanted for you was to find someone to love you as much as you love them.”

Carlos turned to his mom, meeting her eyes for a moment and seeing the moisture in them. He gave her a smile and set down the dish he was holding, placing a hand on top of the one resting on his wrist. 

“Me too,” he agreed, “and I did.” 

---------

Eventually, they parted ways for the evening. 

The Reyes left first: Andrea with a kiss for both the boys and Gabriel with a hug for his son and a handshake for TK. Carlos saw them to a door and with a wave in Owen’s direction, they were gone. 

Carlos shut the door behind them and silence fell over the living area as TK looked to his father. He tried for a smile, but TK didn’t return it. 

“Are you going to tell me what you were really doing? What actually happened?” he asked instead, and Owen froze. TK could feel Carlos coming up behind him, silently offering support but he didn’t pull his gaze from his Dad’s face. The silence stretched on and eventually, TK shook his head. 

“Thanks for bringing the limes, I guess,” he muttered, turning away. 

“TK…” 

“What, Dad?” TK asked, his tone exhausted. “Are you finally going to tell me what’s going on? Are you finally going to listen? Because if not, I don’t think there is anything more to say.” 

He turned and walked to the door, feeling both Carlos’s and his dad’s eyes on him the entire way. He opened it and turned back, eyes seeking his father once more.

“I think you should leave, dad.” 

“Son,” Owen began again, walking towards him. 

“You’ve made it painfully clear that what I think isn’t important. I just want you to be safe, to do what is best for you but it’s like talking to a brick wall!” he exclaimed, causing Owen to freeze and Carlos to step closer. He closed his eyes and took a breath - yelling wasn’t going to help anyone. 

“I can’t help you if you don’t want to help yourself,” he said instead. “But I want to help you, dad. I just want you to be safe.”

“This is about something bigger than you or me, TK,” Owen said instead and TK had to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes. 

“It always is, isn’t?” 

He watched as his dad’s expression faltered. Then he shook his head and walked towards the door, pausing next to TK. He glanced at him and for a moment looked like he had something to say. TK waited but a moment later Owen shook his head and stepped out their front door into the night. He took one step down the path before pausing and turning back. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow” he said, and TK wasn’t sure if it was more a promise or a question.  

“I guess that depends on what you have to say.” 

With that TK shut the door, pressing his forehead against it and closing his eyes. He stayed like that for several moments, until he felt the warm weight of hands on his shoulders, rubbing soothing patterns against his skin. 

He opened his eyes and turned so he was facing Carlos, who was studying him with concern. 

“I’m okay,” he told him softly. “He’s just…” 

“Frustrating? Stubborn?” Carlos offered. 

“Infuriating,” TK concluded with a groan and a shake of his head. 

Carlos hummed sympathetically, “But he’s also your dad, and I know how much you love him and care about him.” 

“I do,” TK agreed, “which makes this even more frustrating.” 

They were quiet again as they each considered the implications of the last few minutes before TK flopped forward with a groan, burying his face in Carlos’s chest. “I’m sorry he ruined dinner with your parents,” he muttered into the material of his boyfriend’s sweater. “I know how important this was to you.” 

Carlos laughed lightly and wrapped his arms around TK, “He didn’t ruin anything.” 

TK pulled his face from Carlos’s chest to give him a dubious look and Carlos continued, “Yeah, maybe he could do with a second impression,” he conceded, “but he didn’t ruin anything. They came and we all had dinner together. My parents and the man I love all ate dinner together in our dining room, and it was fine. Better than fine actually: they really like you.” 

“You think so?” TK asked, unable to keep the uncertainty from his voice. 

“I know so,” Carlos confirmed. He grinned at TK for a moment before his expression shifted and he reached out a hand to caress TK’s face.

“I never thought I’d be able to have this,” he admitted. “For so long I figured it was either my family or whoever I decided to date, never both. But,” he added, a smile spreading across his face, “someone very smart told me that nothing ever stays the same. Turns out, they were right.” 

“This person was very smart, you say?” TK asked, a grin breaking through the cloud of emotions. 

“And handsome,” Carlos added. “and kind and a terrible cook, but I won’t hold that against him.” 

“I think their cooking skills have likely improved,” TK quipped, playing along. “But you better be careful Reyes, they sound like they might just be a keeper.”

“They are,” Carlos agreed, “and I intend to, for as long as they want.” 

“I can’t speak for this mystery man,” TK replied, “but I think the answer to that might be the same. I don’t think he has any desire to go anywhere else either. I think you might be stuck with him for a long time.” 

“That’s good,” Carlos agreed, leaning forward to press a soft and gentle kiss to TK’s lips, “because my parents kind of like him; I think my mom would be upset with me if I let him slip away.”

“Well, we can’t have that.” 

Carlos hummed, pulling back just enough to see TK’s face; to memorize this moment of all of his childhood fears being proven wrong. It had happened in small bits each, a little at a time, but this moment — a kiss shared in their living room after dinner with his parents — seemed to be the culmination. He never wanted to forget it. “No,” he agreed, a smile on his face as he ran a thumb over TK’s cheek, “we can’t.” 

[tinyboxxtink]

"Not My Yacht" *Chapter 1?*

So this is interesting:

So "Not My Yacht" was my very first fic. Like, I'm talking VERY VERY first.

So when I started asking around about ideas for a new series, a few of my lovelies went through my one shots and this story and "Doodling" got some good votes.

So, I decided to include the one shot and just added to it for a POTENTIAL new series. We'll see how this chapter goes over.

Also I'll be including Rita Calhoun in this for the FIRST time ever, so I may need assistance from @storiesofsvu to get her voice right. I did my best here. I'll be honest I've never really watched her, just that one where that guy blackmailed her or something.

Also Also, if it wasn't obvious enough this is obviously the beginning of the SVU episode "Her Negations".

I don't want to give anything away because I haven't even really thought that far, but I'm 95% sure this is going to turn in a William Lewis situation fic. So...pretty dark. I'm just warning you NOW.

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

And yes, the results are in. There is a part 2!

You breathed in the salty air of the sea of the sunny South Hampton shore; It was a beautiful day for a yacht party.

You walked along the pier as you got closer to your boss’s boat: The Crime Wave. Her husband’s idea of a funny name she claimed as she had invited people from the office to this soiree. You were lucky to even get an invite, just being the assistant to the owner of the law firm. “Who else is going to help me dodge boring conversations with men who just wanted a "free ride” on the bosses boat?“ She had teased you; or at least you hoped she was kidding.

You really wanted to just relax and mingle among the elite lawyers of NYC, seeing as you wanted to be one of them someday.

You saw your boss, Rita Calhoun waving you down as you reached the dock space.

"Ah! There you are, for a minute I thought I’d have to mix my own drinks!” She laughed with a wink. You laugh nervously, unable to discern if she was kidding.

“Calm down sweetie, I’m a big girl. Besides, I like to make them myself, strong,” she laughed again, patting your shoulder. Crap had your face looked that panicked? Keep it cool!

“Go ahead, enjoy yourself. I’ll be here, making sure none of those damn punks tries to sneak on here for free booze,” she scoffed, nodding to a group of highly dressed teens playing chicken on the shoreline.

You nodded with a half laugh, stepping onto the yacht. It was a decent size, a second level deck and a very spacious main level. Not a lot of people had arrived yet, so you decided to pick a spot on the yachts back bench area before all the seating was taken. You began removing your over clothes revealing your swimming wear when you hear Rita greet someone else.

“Ah, Barba. You know we have flare guns on board,”

You turn to see the ADA of New York, Rafael Barba. He’s dressed in a windbreaker and what could be either a dark red or salmon polo. You realize Mrs. Calhoun is referring to the almost neon yellow color of the windbreaker, and you can’t help but giggle. It must have been way too loud because they both turn to you which caused you to immediately shut up and go back to undressing and laying out your towel, but ever so slightly still honed in on the conversation.

“You can never be too careful Rita, who knows how many enemies I’ve made in this town; someone might throw me over,” he smirked.

“And anyone here could make it look like a very convincing accident….even my aspiring protege over there,” Rita nods over to you, knowing full well what you were doing.

Barba turned and looked at you, your body frozen in mid towel thrust. You didn’t know whether to throw it over yourself or just run off the boat right there.

“I know it’s an awful jacket dear, you don’t have to keep staring at him.” She called over to you. God why did she have to be so….her.

“Jesus Rita give the girl a break, or did you invite her just to torture her on unbillable hours?” Barba scoffed with a half smile, walking over to you.

“Is it really worth the minimum wage to put up with her?” He asked.

“Mmm…it’s more for the experience, honestly.” You replied surprisingly smoothly.

“Oh….well I mean I could give you the experience without–” He started but was interrupted by your boss’s loud exclaiming.

“Yeah I’ll BET you’d give her experience Barba! Stop hitting on my intern and mingle with the adults.”

If you could dig a hole straight through the boat into the ocean you would do it right then and there.

“…..Without THAT.” He rolled his eyes, lightly flipping her the bird behind his back. You see her respond with a laugh then turns her attention back to the guests boarding.

“She’s probably been drinking since she got on the boat, yeah?” He asked you.

“I…I don’t know I just got here….” You managed to squeak out as your towel strayed from your hands. Barba grabbed it and helped you reposition it on the bench.

“Kinda windy for a yacht party, but Rita will take any chance to celebrate anything remotely resembling a boost to her ego. Am I right?” He chuckled, before sitting down on your towel.

“Just to keep it from blowing away, do you mind?” He asked, gesturing for you to join him. You nodded a boisterous “NO”, plopping next to him on the bench.

“I’m Rafael Barba,” he extended his hand to you, which you took and shook gently, praying to God he didn’t notice you were literally shaking. You had probably had the biggest crush on him since you started working with Mrs. Calhoun, he was constantly in her office challenging her with warrants and favors.

“Oh yeah I know,” you blurted out, mentally facepalming immediately.

“I see….” He raised an eyebrow. “And you are….?”

You were about to answer when his phone went off. He answered it putting one finger up and mouthing the words “one second.”

“Barba. Yeah….what? Seriously, Olivia? On a Sunday?!” He groaned into his phone with an exaggerated eye roll. He raised his hand and ran it over his face begrudgingly as he talked.

“Yeah….alright, fine. Yeah I’ll be there, give me an hour. I’m in the Hamptons. Because it’s my day off, Liv! Do you think I lock myself in my office over the weekends like a vampire in a coffin? Yeah…I’m sorry, I just…” He glanced at you.

“I was enjoying my Sunday.” He gave you a small sad smile.

“Yeah. Ok. See you soon.” He hung up the phone with an exasperated sigh.

“I’m sorry, I gotta go back to the city. Don’t let Rita push you around too much, okay?” He chuckled, rubbing the top of your head like a puppy. You felt your face scrunch up in annoyance, seriously? He thought of you as a kid?!

He obviously noticed, and quickly held out his hand again very sternly.

“Sorry, future counselor.” He said in an overly serious tone, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling. Again. Like an idiot.

Relieved he had fixed his faux paux, he gave you one last beautiful Barba grin as he jogged over to Rita and told her something before nodding to you once again, then walked off the boat and disappearing down the pier.

Your boss sauntered over to you, a shit eating grin across her face.

“Well Cinderella, you sure kept that cool.” She gestured for your phone beside you.

“Be sure to tell him your name this time,” she winked, handing it back to you. You glanced down at it as she walked away; she had added a number to your contacts.

“BHole Barba.” You laughed out loud. Nice. Maybe she wasn’t such a horrible boss after all….

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

By Monday you still hadn’t had the balls to text Rafael Barba. You had just stared at the number in your phone, imagining all the possibilities contacting him would lead to. You may have gotten so far as planning your summer wedding in the Hamptons, but nobody needed to know that.

But you had chickened out and left it alone, and now you were sitting at your desk typing up a memo for Rita when you saw him come waltzing through the door.

“Ah, Cinderella!” He smiled at you.

“Hey…” Your mind went blank, you couldn’t think of words. Wait, had he already given you a nickname?

“Cinderella?” You blinked in confusion.

“Well I never caught your name-- But I guess I shouldn’t even push it, you’ve clearly moved on and I must seem like a creep,” His train of thought proceeded out loud as he realized you hadn’t taken his number and here he was still flirting with you. Rita had given it to you, he had seen her type it in your phone. Obviously you weren’t interested, why was he pushing this?

“What? NO!” You said a little louder than you intended, actually a lot louder than you intended. You slapped your hand over your mouth after your little outburst, but to you relief he was still smiling.

“Oh? Well I suppose that’s good…” He was obviously fishing for your excuse as to why you had waited until he popped back in your face to talk to him.

“No, I um--” You racked your brain for an excuse that wasn’t “I was busy planning our lives together”.

“I….couldn’t think of something interesting to say,” You finally admitted with a pitiful sigh. You were not a good liar, and under pressure, forget about it.

Again, he still smiled-- but this time he laughed along with it.

“I mean, ‘Hello’ is always an option,” He chuckled. “Or...your name?”

“Oh!” Idiot. You hadn’t even given him your name, how was he supposed to fall madly in love with you without a name?

“Y/N,” You stuck your hand out awkwardly, Was this a ‘shake hands’ moment? Hadn’t you already met before? You stared at your hand as you moved it slightly back and forth, arguing with yourself whether or not this was necessary. Luckily, Rafael settled the argument by taking your hand and shaking it firmly.

His hands were so soft, his long fingers enveloped yours in them. You lost yourself in the moment, and before you knew it he was making an uncomfortable cough, snapping you back to reality. You dropped his hand and snapped yours back into your body like a zip cord, your face in a horrified stare.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, that was so weird. I’m weird. I’m--”

“Well I don’t know what you were so worried about Cinderella, you’re clearly a chatterbox,” He gave you a tongued smile, referring to the word vomit you just couldn’t help spill all over him.

“Oh yeah, I’m a total word machine,” You laughed nervously. A word machine? What the fuck was that?

“...Word machine. Right,” He nodded in amusement. “Well word machine, would you mind shooting some words to my phone, or do you just enjoy this face to face thing?”

“With that face? Definitely the latter. But you can have my number anyway,” You typed a quick message and sent it to his number. Damn that was smooth! How did you do that?

Rafael made an impressed face with your line, but when he opened his phone his brows furrowed.

“Hit?” He gave you a curious look as he read the text out loud.

“Fuck it was supposed to be ‘hi’-- stupid autocorrect,” You muttered angrily. Yeah, that was more like you.

“Oh yes, the dreaded autocorrect,” He nodded while saving your number. “Turning fucks into ducks since 2011,”

“Oh I didn’t have a phone in 7th grade but I’ll take your word for it,” You laughed, but stopped when his face twisted into a mix of horror and discomfort when he realized how young you actually were.

Dammit. Why...why would you do this?

“....Right, is Rita in?” He quickly shoved his phone back in his pocket and headed into Rita’s office before you could answer.

“...Idiot!” You yelled at yourself as your hands went over your face and your face planted into your desk.

Well, that was nice while it lasted. All 2.5 seconds of it.

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

“Well Barba, about time,” Rita smirked as Rafael abruptly burst into her office trying to get away from you. “Done flirting with the intern are we?”

“Shut up,” He rolled his eyes, though his face was a deep shade of red.

“Oh no, what happened? Did your dentures fall out in front of her?” She smirked.

“I’m younger than you!!” He scoffed.

“Yeah but I’m not the one trying to boff a 25 year old,” She smirked harder, making Rafael angrier.

“Can I just get the warrant I came here for, Rita?” He huffed.

“Oooh, struck a nerve there, did I?” Rita chuckled as she grabbed some papers from her desk and started to hand them to him. “Barba, for the record I’m really not judging you. If I were 20 years younger, I’d hit it too,”

“Excuse me?”

“I had a lot of ‘cats’ in college,” She winked.

“Wow,” Rafael held up his hands. “Rita, we really don’t need to be that personal.”

“Fine, but all I’m saying is if you like the girl, don’t let a stupid thing like age deter you. Don’t tell her I said this, but she’s actually very competent and organized. I would almost prefer her not to graduate, unless she'd come work for me. She’s going to be a hell of a lawyer,” She gestured outside to your desk.

Rafael looked at the ground as he mulled over what she was saying, a small smile crawled across his lips as she complimented your potential.

“I’ll take that under advisement, Mrs. Calhoun,” He nodded as he walked towards the door with the papers in his hand, a huge smile across his face now.

He walked out to find you cursing at yourself and whimpering in embarrassment at your desk. When you heard the door shut you snapped to attention and stared at him, shocked he hadn't sprinted out of the office like Usain Bolt. Even more shocking was that Cheshire cat grin now upon his face.

“I-I’m sorry, I totally meant I was--” You tried doing math trying to make yourself reasonably older.

“It’s fine,” He chuckled as he put a hand over your counting fingers. You blushed at the touch of his skin on yours again, but quickly shoved your hands under the desk nervously as you tried not to look him square in the eye. His eyes were so gorgeous you were positive staring straight into them would actually get you pregnant.

“So does Rita ever unchain you from this desk?” He smirked as he was now very aware and very amused at how nervous he made you. He may be old, but clearly he’s still got it.

“Oh yeah, if I ask very nicely she let’s me--” You tried to think of something witty, but it wasn’t coming with him staring at you with those eyes. “....Yes,” You wanted to put your hands over your face but you didn’t want it to be a ‘thing’.

“Well, maybe if you’re an extra good girl she’ll let you off your leash early tonight,” He winked.

“....Am I a dog or a toddler in that situation?” You were genuinely asking, but Rafael clearly realized how insulting that must have seemed.

“Oh no no no, I just, shit,” He tried to backtrack but if he was being totally honest, you made him nervous. Maybe he didn’t have ‘it’ as much as he thought.

You noticed he was the one blushing now, oh my god were you making him nervous? QUICK, BE SMOOTH. BE SMOOTHER THAN YOU’VE EVER BEEN IN YOUR LIFE.

“Are you asking me out, counselor?” You did your best “sultry “voice with a bat of your eyes. Were you batting them too much? What was too much? Oh god you’ve done it for too long now. STOP BATTING.

“...I don’t know, guess you’ll have to wait for me to text you, future counselor,” He was impressed by the line, and decided to bow out before either of you made idiots of yourselves again. He gave you a wink and sauntered out of the office.

Great. Now he’ll probably make you wait two days for a--

*BEEP*

Your phone went off in your desk. You pulled it out to see a text message:

BHOLE BARBA: Dinner? Tonight?

You really needed to change his contact name. But that wasn’t the point right now. He just asked you out. Rafael Barba just asked you out. You stared at in your hands, unsure of what to do. Then you realized you couldn’t do this again, you couldn’t just sit there and imagine things, this required an immediate response.

You nervously typed a reply and hit SEND:

Sire ;)

“DAMMIT!!!” You cursed your autocorrect. You instantly sent another text.

Sure***

Before you could lecture yourself again, your phone beeped again:

BHOLE BARBA: Play

Play? What did that--

BHOLE: Okay** ;)

You typed the word ‘okay’ into your text reply bubble, ‘play’ came up in the autocorrect word list.

He was joking with you. He was flirting with you. RAFAEL BARBA WAS FLIRTING WITH YOU.

This work day could not end fast enough.

[interstellarflowers]

Professor Parker Ch. 1| Professor, Peter Parker x Student, Reader

a/n this fic doesn’t follow the marvel cinematic universe but assume that peter has been what he’s been through with the exception that tony lived, and bruce is still bruce, sorry but i just can't deal with endgame hulk/bruce rn emotionally or mentally. im sorry nat is still dead but dw i'll actually treat it with respect unlike endgame like goddamn where was her funeral, am i right? the stages of grief thing they did was interesting though. im sorry i digress, this is set in nyc (because heyo im a new yorka) and the avengers/stark tower is still a thing, peter is fucking traumatized and has turned kind of cold as a result. this fic may contain a smut chapter in the future? not sure yet, where this fic goes depends on the feedback, thanks for reading also sorry im not the proudest of this first chapter so ill probably edit it but promise itll only improve from here just not in the best mental state rn

University life wasn’t exactly everything that you imagined it to be. There was hardly time to do anything that people claimed was good about coming to university. The parties, the epic heartbreaks, and romances, they were just nowhere to be seen. In fact, there was nothing particularly extravagant about your experience thus far. You went to class, studied, and went to your internship. Your internship was probably the most exciting thing about your life at the moment, you were lucky to be accepted into the Stark Industries student internship, the company paid college tuition and only required around twenty hours of lab work a week, you couldn’t complain. Of course, the exciting part of the whole ordeal was the name attached to it, “Stark,” not that you had ever met him, but it was nice to have a unique feature like that in such an impressive student body.

So here you were on the first day of your third year of university. You lived off-campus, about a five-minute walk from the Stark Tower, but a twenty-minute subway ride to your campus. However, having an 882 square foot space to yourself was really nothing you could truly complain about despite the distance. The studio apartment being yet another benefit reaped from Stark Industries. Thank you Tony Stark, the unseen benevolent God in your life.

Typically you would start your mornings off quietly and in no rush, a shower, a cup of coffee, maybe some studying before heading off to your campus, but your phone had other plans for you today. Instead of your alarm going off like it was supposed to, you were woken up by the sound of a particularly loud car horn, and oh how grateful you were for that. As soon as you were jolted awake you shifted to grab your phone and turned it over to see an alarming 8:40am glaring back at you.

Holy shit. You were late.

You scrambled out of bed nearly face planting several times in your hurry to get dressed and only barely ran out the door with everything you needed at 8:47am.

By the time you managed to get to the subway and clamor onto the right train it was already 8:55am. Out of breath and panicking, you considered your options. You could explain after class, you could shoot an email, there were a plethora of things you could do but none of them seemed to justify being late as a third-year to a level 500 class. You had googled all of your professors while registering for classes as was common practice. You couldn’t find a RateMyProfessor on Professor...Parker? You were pretty sure it was Professor Parker, but you do remember seeing on the STEM department page that he was currently a Ph.D. student, so you could only hope that as a fellow student he would be at least a little understanding towards your lateness.

You stood outside of the lecture hall huffing and trying to catch your breath at 9:32am, psyching yourself up, you pushed open the door to the class and attempted to go unnoticed. The class was in a lecture hall despite being only composed of around thirty students, so if you were lucky maybe nobody would even see-

“Ms.(y/l/n), I presume?.” Shit.

“Professor Parker?” Shit.

“You are aware that class starts at 9am, and not 9:30am, would this be correct Ms.(y/l/n)?”

“Yes, Professor, it’s just that I had an emergency.” The lying route. Not exactly the highlight of your academic career.

“I regret to inform you that I only take valid excuses Ms.(y/l/n), please take a seat, and next time, don’t bother disrupting class halfway through the lesson.” Fuck. You mustered a quiet “ok,” and a small nod before escorting yourself to the back of the room, thirty-something eyes following you until you sat down.

You couldn’t focus for the rest of the class, it was just too embarrassing, time moved forward but you couldn’t help but be stuck on what had just happened. For the first ten minutes after sitting down you felt like dropping out of the whole class out of sheer fucking humiliation. This was of course before you reminded yourself that this class was a requirement to graduate in your field of study. You quietly bargained with yourself before sighing quietly and settling on the conclusion that Professor Parker was just a dick. A dick who certainly didn’t deserve the satisfaction of you switching out of his class. If he wanted to be like that, you decided, you would simply return the favor.

“I know, Ms.(y/ln), why don’t you tell us DeBroglie’s equation?”

“With pleasure, Professor Parker.” Yeah, you’d return the favor alright.

“Ms.(y/l/n), you stay.” Fuck that. You looked the other way and feigned ignorance as you kept making your way towards the door. About to leave, the door shut on your face.

“What the fuck!” You jumped before turning around and you felt your face heat up.

“Ms.(y/l/n), please refrain from using profanities in my classroom.”

“I’m sorry Professor Parker. I was just startled.”

“Mhm,” he took his glasses off and laid them on his desk, “Just don’t do it in the future Ms.(y/l/n).”

“Of course. My name is (y/n), by the way, Professor Parker, you can just call me that, actually, I prefer that people refer to me by (y/n).”

“Rest assured, I’m aware of your name, Ms.(y/l/n). My name is Peter, but you can continue to call me Professor Parker.” You could have sworn that you saw a ghost of a smirk on his lips. He knew what he was fucking doing, asshole. You held back from rolling your eyes into the back of your head.

“Of course, Professor Parker.”

“As you know, Ms.(y/l/n), I did request that you stay after class.”

“Oh? I sincerely apologize Professor Parker, I really didn’t hear you.”

“I’m sure, Ms.(y/l/n).” Fucking. Dick.

“Well, what exactly did you want Professor Parker? I do have another class soon.” Professor Parker narrowed his eyes at you in obvious distaste before reaching behind himself into a bin underneath his desk and pulling out a stack of papers,

“These are the handouts you missed from the beginning of the class. Textbook requirements, syllabus...Crucial information to have if you care to succeed in my class Ms.(y/l/n).” So coldly, so maliciously, Professor Parker placed the stack into your arms.

“I take my work very seriously, Ms.(y/l/n), I do my part as your professor so I only have the simple request that my students do the same.” You nodded feeling your face heat up again.

“Of course, Professor Parker, it won’t happen again,” you said with a tightlipped smile.

“Mhm,” Professor Parker turned around and began shuffling around some paper and without giving you a second glance said, “You are dismissed.” You nodded and hurriedly made your way out of his classroom. Of course, you had lied. You didn’t have another class until late in the afternoon. So you called your coworker instead,

“Hey, Harvey.”

“(y/n).”

“Wow, okay, don’t get too excited.”

“Sorry, just woke up.”

“Tsk, the early bird gets the worm, Harvey.”

“I don’t want a worm.”

“Fuck you. I’m headed to the lab, can I expect you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You had been working with Harvey for around four years now, he was quite the impressive specimen, having attended MIT and graduating Summa Cum Laude at age 20 was no easy feat, he was closer to Tony Stark than you would ever get, he was quite personable, and you couldn’t deny that he was quite good looking. You’d never tell him that though, he didn’t need another ego boost. Besides, you had some connections of your own.

“Hey, (y/n).”

“Banner!”

“Can we expect Harvey today?”

“Honestly, not sure.” You both knowingly smiled at each other before you made your way over to what he was working on,

“Do you ever get bored here?”

“With you and the other idiot always running around? How could I?” You laughed,

“No, seriously, like wouldn’t you rather be doing nerd shit with Tony or something? Isn’t it a little tiresome babysitting us?”

“Tiring? Maybe sometimes, but not nearly as tiring as doing ‘nerd shit’ with Tony. He’s exhausting,” Bruce smiled at his own joke, “I don’t mind playing babysitter at all kid.” He fiddled with the handle of a mug that read, “Don’t be so Na Cl,” which you had gotten him a year back as a joke, but he still used it.

You really loved Bruce for all he was. Since losing your family back in 2012 during the battle in NYC, you didn’t really have any familial figures. But since landing this internship you found yourself with a parental figure again, and you would never be able to put into words how much it meant to you, so you didn’t. Besides, you didn’t want him to feel pressured about it, especially after everything he had been through himself. Frying half your body and losing the love of your life in such a short span of time was really nothing less than horrifying. Yet, here he was, smiling, laughing...You loved him for it.

“First day of junior year? How was that?”

“Shit.”

“Huh?” Bruce stopped tinkering with the device in his hands and looked over at you, “I’ve never heard of a course being too hard for (y/n) (y/l/n), what is it? Aerospace? Quantum?”

“No, just one giant dick.”

“Pardon-”

“My professor, he’s a fucking asshole.”

“Ah, I see. If he’s really harassing you (y/n), I don’t mean to overstep, I really think we should alert administration, what’s his name?” Bruce took a sip of his coffee.

“Professor Parker,” Bruce choked on his coffee, “Oh my God, Bruce, are you okay?”

“Yeah-” he said, still coughing, “Just a little too strong.”

“Okay, are you sure?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bruce caught his breath, “What did he do kid?”

“He’s just a dick that’s all.”

“You sure you don’t want me to do something about it?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, I don’t know what you could do anyways. Thank you though.”

“Actually, you’d be surprised.”

Sitting at your desk stressing over school work at 3am, it was nothing out of the ordinary for you. Everything appeared ordinary. The ordinary cup of tea, the familiar glow of your computer, and a morning chill creeping through your window. It was all so breathtakingly normal until there was a rap on your window. You took an earbud out of your ear, certain you were just hearing things, you looked to your window. Holy shit.

You opened your window wide so that he could crawl in.

“(y/n)?”

“Mr.Spiderman.” Still too in shock to fully process the situation you started to take in the scene in front of you,

“Please, it’s just Spiderman.”

“Oh-Oh my God, what happened?” Head to toe the suit seemed to have blood seeping through, tears in the body of the suit revealed gashes and a bullet wound.

“Bad guys. I know this guy-said he knew a medical student close by, you are (y/n)? Right?”

“Y-Yeah, but I’m really just a student, I’m not really a prof-”

“This guy, he said you might as well be.”

“I don’t know Mr.Spiderman, really, maybe I could take you to the hospital though.”

“-Spiderman, it’s just Spiderman, listen, (y/n), you know I can’t go to a hospital, it would ruin this whole secret identity thing I got going on here, and this guy, he’s probably the smartest guy I know, so if he says you can handle it, you can.” You swallowed and nodded,

“Yeah-” you wring your hands together, “Yeah-Sorry, let me go get my first aid kit.”

[ramp-it-up]

We Are Young

Pairing: Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Minors DNI, Explicit language, explicit casual sex, drinking, a bowling alley, bathroom sex.

A/N: This is from an old smut prompt which requested sex with stranger Lin at a bar. Changed it just a little. Maybe I’m jaded because it’s not so filthy to me. It’s like, smut light?.

I stole @ivycomet ‘s pic and gif because this is her fault. There will be a part two very soon.

——-

2011

You couldn't decide what to do with your weave.

You fussed with in the mirror, frustrated because up would mean comfort in the 88-degree heat and down would just look fly as you were having a bomb hair day.

Even though it was after 8 pm, it was still hot as hell in NYC.

You were having serious second thoughts about this. You usually worked your life away, but brushed the qualms out of your mind as you settled for a pony tail.

You smoothed the white bandeau top stretched across your breasts and turned around to check the back zipper on the cute high waisted navy blue polka dot shorts you were wearing; the perfect outfit for the 4th of July.

You didn't usually show so much skin but it was beyond time to turn up.

After you were dressed, you straightened the mess you’d made in the bedroom of the Harlem apartment you shared with your bestie Mayra, which you really only used to sleep, a place to lay your head between busy.

It was the perfect setup for you and her. You had a decent place to live and you didn't cramp her style.

She was always constantly trying to get you to go out and have fun, but the life of an editor could be all consuming, if you were trying to climb manuscripts to the top. Which you were.

“There is no excuse not to get loose tonight.” Mayra told you over the phone earlier. “We're going to have fun, you will relax, and maybe meet someone interesting."

——

“Tell me again why we are at a bowling alley?'" You were ready to go home. You looked up at the sign on the building.

"This is NOT what's up."

"Shut the fuck up and go inside. Damn. Always got to be so difficult. I liked it better when you didn't talk in the 6th grade."

When you walked in, it was so different than the outside. It was almost like a club, the lighting, the lounge behind the bowling lanes, and the scantily clad waitresses.

A huge dude was standing just inside the door. A bouncer.

"Derek! What up!" Mayra greeted the bouncer with a hug.

She introduced him to you.

"We met when I first started coming here a few months ago. He's cool people.”

Mayra leaned in and Derek nodded toward the far side of the alley. She grinned.

"Thanks." She started walking further into the alley. "Let's go to the bar."

You were nonplussed.

You followed Mayra and plopped down on a stool, taking out your phone and started to answer emails when Your friend grabbed your phone and put it on the counter, handing you a drink.

“Get your ass off your shoulders and out of your phone. We’re here to have fun!”

You just shook your head, but you took the drink and sipped. It was Real McCoy and Coke.

"NIceeee." you grinned, liking the way the drink felt going down.

"Hey. Slow down." Mayra was cracking up. "Don’t get wasted. You’re a lightweight.”

You flipped her off as you drank up. “Fuck you.”

But you knew it was true. But you just wanted to have some fun tonight.

-----

You and Mayra went to get a locker and shoes and then went toward the lane that Mayra’s friends had reserved.

"Who the fuck knew that bowling alleys had VIP sections?"

You and Mayra toasted your glasses, You were getting a buzz that made you feel warm and happy inside. Kinda like chocolate.

You found yourself among a group of people that kept getting larger.

"Hmph. Look at those guys over there..." Mayra was checking out the guys at the next lane.

You were sitting down putting on your bowling shoes, shaking your head that apparently Mayra was into guys tonight.

You looked over and caught a smedium height carmel-colored guy checking you out. He looked a little familiar, but you didn't think you knew him.

You smiled at him, but kept your eyes moving so as not to encourage him. The flash of his watch caught your eye and suddenly you went back to his eyes again.

He raised his drink with the offending arm to his very nice lips and stared at you.

You flushed and looked away, taking a sip of your own drink.

“That’s Lin-Manuel.” Mayra had been watching you. “And he’s cute. But he’s also a really dope person.”

“Cool.”

You tried to play it off and tied your other shoe. Someone tapped you on the shoulder and you looked up, expecting to see Mayra. But it was carmel dude.

You moved to stand up beside him. Your head spun with the sudden motion and the alcohol.

You looked at him shyly; he was so familiar. You smiled at him, cocking your head to the side.

Lin felt like the world shifted and he had to plant his feet. That smile was everything. He had to be careful not to check you out too hard.

The way you were looking him straight in the eye, like you knew his soul, confirmed to him that he should get to know you better.

He had to stay cool. "I'm Lin."

He reached his hand out toward you. You looked around and Mayra was nowhere to be found.

Something about that smile, that mouth. You reached out your hand to him. You shook and Lin kept your hand in his.

You two just looked at each other until you realized you were staring. Then you looked down at your bowling shoes.

You looking away gave Lin the chance to check you out. That body. Yes. He had to get to next to you.

But his game was usually wack. He couldn’t fuck it up. He decided to just be himself. He needed to make you laugh.

Before he could speak, everyone from the other lane came over and mingled. There was a taller cute bald headed dude named Chris, another guy named Bill, another dark handsome guy that told you to call him UTK.

More people with weird names were introduced to you, Two-Touch, Jelly Donut, Shockwave, and Arthur the Geniuses who was very nerdy but strangely attractive to you.

You started talking to him, but you felt Lin’s eyes on you the whole time the group was chatting and mingling.

You went to check your phone and realized it wasn't there. You looked down at the seat where you had been sitting and began to panic.

“Oh no, my phone!” You exclaimed while looking around.

Lin's voice was very near your ear.

"Looking for this?"

A shiver ran through you. You looked down at his hand and saw your phone.

“I found it on the bar, I was going to see if it was anyone’s over here…”

A flood of relief washed over you, and you went to grab it. You pulled your hand back at the spark that surged through your fingers when they made contact with Lin's skin.

"Whoa. Must be static." Lin felt it, too.

Your eyes locked for a split second and Lin saw another universe. He tried to shake it off. This was crazy.

You looked up into his chocolate brown eyes and his long ass lashes. Okay. You could get lost here.

He handed the phone to you and smiled in response to your happiness at getting it back. You looked up and smiled back at him.

There was a little awkward silence as you both looked at each other and imagined the possibilities. Wild thoughts. But only for two seconds.

You were imagining his lips on you in places that had not been seen or touched by another human in many moons.

Lin was thinking about having your brown legs wrapped around him as he tried to get real deep with you. The shorts you were wearing were everything. He couldn’t think about the top or else his eyes would be glued there the rest of the night.

You were shocked at how your thoughts were so explicit about this man you just met.

Lin was thinking of a way to make his daydream come true.

You looked away at Chris who was setting up the bowling order and at UTK and Mayra who were looking deep into one another’s eyes. Your eyes came back to Lin. It was inevitable.

"Thank you."

There was another awkward silence. This was getting dangerous, you thought. You needed some space before you said or did something reckless.

“I’m… going to get another drink…”

“Let me buy it for you.”

The way he was smirking at you made you feel some kinda way. It was like he knew exactly what it would take to get you to cum. Fuck.

“Oh. Ok.”

Lin’s was looking over his shoulder and smirking. When you checked you saw Chris shaking his head and smiling.

-----

An hour later, you were getting moist at Lin’s intelligence. He gave the greatest literary conversation you’d ever had. Nerds turned you the fuck on.

Your conversation was so dope. You listened to how Lin was going to burn the world up with his brilliance and you let him know how you were a success at being innovative in breaking down.

The more you drank, the more you wanted to fuck his brains out. You had to try to chill.

“So what was that all about when we left the alley area? You and your homeboy playing games?”

“Me and Chris?” Lin laughed. “Nah. Chris is like my big brother. He laughs at me for pursuing women who are out of my league.”

You took a sip of your drink, set it down and smiled at him.

“So, are you pursuing me?”

That smile. And was he blushing? Awww. How fuckably cute. You chuckled and Lin brightened up a little.

“I’d be an idiot not to. I mean, damn. You’re gorgeous.”

What was it about this nerd dude that was turning you on so much? Those eyes? Nah, that mouth. And his cute pink tongue that darted out and cleaned up his mouth after a drink.

‘I have something he can clean up,’ you thought, as you crossed your legs to calm your clit down.

Lin took in your legs in the shorts and had to recall lines of Shakespeare to calm his threatening woodie. He decided to go for it.

“The guys have already started a game; they haven’t missed us and they won't.”

He looked down and you noticed his long lashes again. Then he looked up at you again with those eyes and you almost fell off your stool.

“You wanna get out of here?”

“Hell yeah.”

It was out before you knew it. Lin laughed and told the bartender to put your drinks on Christopher Jackson’s tab.

You texted Mayra where that you were leaving with Lin.

“Get it! I’m so glad that I dragged your ass out of the house.”

“Shut up.”

You almost forgot that you were still wearing bowling shoes.

“We can’t go out in New York City in stolen bowling shoes. It’s 25 to life.”

Lin looked down and laughed.

“You’re right!”

You made your way over to the locker area, which was in a corner of the bowling alley. Lin sat down and started taking off his shoes.

You sauntered over, put your foot up on the bench and showed off your leg and your back arch as you slowly took off yours and replaced them with your high heeled sandals.

Yes. You were officially on your bullshit.

Lin stopped what he was doing to watch you.

“Holy fuck!” he thought.

You looked over at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh shit? Did I say that out loud? Sometimes I get over excited, shoot off at the mouth…”

He was outright staring at you with his mouth open, the look on his face so fucking hot to you.

He cleared his throat. “Ummmm. I just have to say, you are gorgeous and I am very attracted to…” he motioned to your body. “All that.”

You laughed heartily.

“Really? Thanks. I am attracted to you as well, Lin.” You put your other leg up and took off your other shoe in the same manner as before.

This time however, you leaned toward him so that he could see down your top. Then, you stood up and smoothed it with your hands, making sure your fingers lingered over your nipples.

You could hear Lin’s soft moan as you did that.

“You make me want to do things, Lin.”

You walked over to where he was and stood before him, placing your legs on either side of his.

Lin was eye level with your crotch, gave a mischievous smirk and looked up as he placed his hands on your thigh.

You sat on his lap and his hands moved up to cup your ass as he let you on, widening his legs so that you were positioned right over his cock.

Feeling the sizeable hard on, you started moving. Yes. You would let Lin’s huge cock ruin you after knowing him for two hours. You only live once.

When you finally kissed after all the flirting and teasing, it was like a door to sin opened up.

You tried as hard as you could to put your tongue down his throat, and Lin stood up with your ass in his hands and slammed your back against the lockers behind you.

He started grinding into you through your clothes and your wetness began to drip onto your already moist panties.

When you came up for air, you both realized where you were. You slowly slid down his body and you separated a bit, but neither of you were satisfied. You looked at his jeans and how excited he was.

“That must be uncomfortable.” You reached out and brushed your fingers against his hard cock. He whimpered a bit and replied.

“It is.” His eyes held yours. You nodded to the left.

“Well, let’s take care of that.”

You took his hand and led him to the single use bathroom that was actually pretty decent. Clean, modern amenities. You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw a small basket of assorted condoms on the vanity. You were in love with this place.

You locked the door behind you.

Lin leaned against the sink, palming himself over his jeans.

“I’d like to see it?”

Lin smirked and reached for his belt buckle. You bit your lip as you watched. That sound of the belt buckle clanking got you even wetter, and as Lin showed you his black boxer briefs, then his caramel colored cock, it was game over.

You literally started to drip as he stroked his cock for you.

“Oh shit. I like that.”

It was a good size and so smooth and beautiful. You moved closer and put your hand on it. You took over stroking and felt his firm warm manhood in your hand, leaning forward and kissing him as he closed his eyes.

It would have been a nice, innocent kiss if you weren’t pumping pre-cum out of him in a bowling room bathroom.

“Fuck, what are you doing to me?”

Lin opened his eyes and they blazed warm fire at you. He put his hands on your waist, feeling the bare skin there and then suddenly, spun you around so that he was behind you and you were facing the mirror.

He ran his hands up your waist to your bandeau top, searching for and finding your nipples as he went. His fingers curled into the top and pulled it down, freeing your breasts into his waiting hands.

“So fucking beautiful. I was thinking of doing this since I first saw you.”

He grabbed them and toyed with your nipples with his fingers and thumbs. You arched your back, feeling his warm hardness there.

Lin trailed one of his hands up to your neck and grabbed it, making you moan because that is what you’d wanted from him all night. His hands on you aggressively.

Then, he took your chin and moved it toward his mouth, lewdly kissing you as he felt you up and squeezed your neck.

Next, his hand went from you neck to the waist band of your shorts and inside. You squirmed, as he was now twisting your nipple and searching your pussy inside your shorts.

When he found your wet, bare folds, you moaned your appreciation against his mouth as he rubbed up and down your slick lips.

“You like that?” Lin asked as he pulled away to catch his breath.

You just moaned again. His fingers were skimming along your clit as they rubbed up and down. It felt oh so good, but didn’t give you any satisfaction.

“Yeah, you like that, look how wet you are. Fuck, you feel so tight and wet!” He exclaimed as his long fingers found and breached your hole.

You couldn’t take it anymore as you pulled away and unbuttoned your shorts, pulling them and your panties down as Lin pulled his pants down too. He grabbed a condom and put it on as you leaned against the sink and panted.

When it was on, Lin took you by the waist and turned you around again, taking his dick and rubbing it against you from behind as you put your leg up on the vanity and he positioned himself at your opening.

“Ah!” you exclaimed as he breached you and bottomed out inside you.

Lin held on to your waist as you braced your leg and arm against the vanity as he pumped into you. He felt amazing stretching you out so much that you couldn’t help but keep lubricating you both.

“Feels so fucking good!”

You threw it down on him as he pumped upward, as fast as you both could until you started seeing stars.

He started pumping sloppily and you could hear your bodies slapping together as he started losing it.

His grunts were in time with the thrusts. When his hand went to your clit and your breast again, that was the invitation for your body to explode.

It was quick and good and took the edge off for a bit. You were not sorry as you held eye contact with him as he got dressed.

“I- I don’t want the night to be over.”

He was so cute, that you couldn’t help but give him a peck on the lips.

“Me neither.”

Lin blushed a little. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

He quickly shuffled out the door and left you to clean up.

He sat on the bench and noticed his shoes weren’t tied. He chuckled at himself and his feeble nerd game. He didn’t know that’s what got him in.

You were out five minutes later, looking slightly less recently-fucked. You smiled when you saw Lin waiting for you.

“You ready to set the world on fire?”

You were hopeful, more than in a long while.

“Sure. Or maybe we can find new ways to fall apart?”

You took his hand and went out into the July night.

——-

Read the next part: Some Nights

Tagging: @theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @imatyoursurrvicesurr @riiyy @lonelydance @jbrizzywrites @sillyteecup @ohsoverykeri  @theselilwonders @curtainremote @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @delaber

[msmarvelouswinchester]

Irresistibly Yours

Chapter 2 - Noise Complaint

Summary - Y/N Y/L/N moves to NYC in hopes for a fresh start after a nasty breakup. There she meets her neighbor, the cynical lawyer, Dean Winchester. A love-hate relationship starts evolving between them ever since they met in the elevator one morning but a desperate situation and a string of lies forces the two friendly rivals to go on a date or rather a fake date. Will sparks fly between them when Dean gets to know Y/N real and up close? Will Y/N finally find her Prince Charming in the grumpy, workaholic, divorce lawyer?

Pairing - Lawyer!Dean Winchester x Y/N

Warning - None expect meanie Dean (Suspicious, isn’t it?)

WC - 2154

Square Filled - Don't put me in this position ( @anyfandomgoesbingo​ )

A/N - I promise the next chapter will have more of Dean and more conflict! This is just the beginning of a very long ride. Enjoy!

Beta’d by @miss-nerd95​

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Series Masterlist               Masterlist 

The silence in the cab on her way back to her apartment gave her the quality time she needed to think. In a few weeks, Meg was getting married and now, since they knew, Y/N had to show up with her 'boyfriend’. She racked her brain, scrambling to come up with a good excuse because it was all a big lie.

Every time, however, she reached two conclusions - either make a fool of herself and admit that she lied or tell everyone that she broke up and be the one person at the wedding that everyone looks down on with pitiful eyes.

There was a third option, which was risque as hell too, cause Y/N barely knew the man and their first meeting did not go so well, but there was definitely something about him that made her blush every time she thought of him.The way he carried himself and the dominating vibes he gave off, sent shivers down her spine. Maybe he wasn't a morning person and she did start blabbering in the elevator the minute she stepped in. She swallowed hard when she remembered the way her name rolled off his tongue. ‘How did he know?’ She wondered.

As Y/N boarded the elevator, she thought about how, she wanted nothing more than to see a certain green-eyed man again. She had been residing in this complex for almost three months but she had never seen the man before. Maybe he was new here, in this apartment building, who knew? Mind plagued by millions of thoughts, Y/N trudged down the empty hallway to her cosy little home.

“Who invented these fucking heels?” She grumbled as she freed her feet out of the painful, yet pretty high heels when she reached the comfort of her own home. Shrugging her coat off, she relaxed as her ass hit the soft mattress of the couch.

“I need a date in seven weeks.” She said, making a mental note of the wedding date. This was the only wedding she ever looked forward to attending where she knew she wouldn't have to face the constant stream of questions involving her dating life and a particular man. All she ever wanted was to be with her close friend on the best day of her life.

“First dress fitting - tomorrow at 10.” Her phone lit up with an incoming text and groaning, she dropped her head backwards. Y/N couldn't even skip the wedding if she wanted to. She was one of the bridesmaids and it wouldn't be fair to both Meg and Cas, if she didn't attend it. A smile graced her frowning face when she remembered the time Cas proposed to her friend on Valentine's Day. Cliche- Y/N would say, but deep down, she knew she just wanted what Cas and Meg had.

A sigh left her lips as she got up, still in her work clothes. She put on some light music as she went into the bathroom to freshen up. After the long, tiring day she had, a warm bath and a Ryan Gosling movie were very much needed. Quickly stripping off, she stepped into the tub. She leaned her head backwards, closing her eyes, as the warm water soothed her aching body and her troubled mind.

“Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone,” Y/N sang along the song, slightly off tune but she didn't care, as she stepped out of the bathroom after some time. She let go of the towel wrapped around her body and stepped into a pair of comfortable pjs. Getting a box cold pizza out from her refrigerator, she turned up the volume of the music playing in her apartment.

“He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring, and said,” Y/N yelled out the chorus when she started to heat up the pizza. Her private singing session, however, was cut short by a sudden knock on the door. She grudgingly pressed pause as she walked up to the door to find out the unwanted visitor.

“Excuse me- Ms L/N?” As soon as she opened the door, she was met by a very familiar, deep baritone that had been haunting her.

“Dean Winchester. And please, call me Y/N,” she breathed out. The formality in Dean’s voice made her cringe. Her eyes fell as she took in the man in front.

Dean had gotten rid of the dapper grey suit and slipped into a much laid back look. A black polo t-shirt fitted over his body and plain blue jeans hugging his bowlegs perfectly. The look on his face mirrored the one from the morning and Y/N wondered if he would look better with a smile on. Her train of thoughts were again rudely interrupted by the man speaking.

“I assume you're having somewhat of a casual evening,” Dean said, his hands waving to point at her pjs, making her suddenly self-conscious of her clothing state.

“Y-yeah. How may I help you?” She asked, genuinely curious.

“See, I moved in the apartment right beside you a few days ago, and I think you might have noticed sometime or the other that there are other people living in this building as well,” Dean said, his face not imparting any sort of emotions, “You might be having a casual evening but I can assure you that there's at least one person who is certainly not. Turn the music level down.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open at Dean’s words but she wasn't going to turn down the volume just because a man turned up at her door, asking her to do so. His words were sharp, but his tone was downright rude, and it was definitely not because he wasn't a morning person. The least he could have done was ask her nicely.

“Well, listen here pal, no one's having a problem, other than you. So you can go back to your room, put on some earplugs and do whatever the heck you were doing before you decided to make my day more awful,” Y/N said, taking a threatening stance with hands on her hips, a deep frown on her face.

“I'll file a noise complaint report against you.” Dean warned with his pointer finger right in front of her eyes.

“It's just music. Learn to appreciate the little things in life.” She said while rolling her eyes.

“I'm a very busy man and I got work to do, alright? And speaking about music, play something actually good like Zeppelin and people will personally come up to thank you. This song is not even a classic.” Dean spat back.

“Believe me or not, everyone is a Swiftie at heart.” She smirked with a sarcastic shrug. Dean’s lips twitched in anger as his face grew more rigid before he said, “If you don't lower the volume, expect a noise complaint report delivered with your newspaper tomorrow.” He walked away before Y/N had a chance to even think of a comeback.

Glancing over his shoulder, Dean went inside his own apartment room right beside Y/N’s. She glared at the empty hallway before swinging her door shut and walked back to her room towards her amazon echo, turning the music down anyway. She couldn't risk getting a report filed against her, and the man appeared to be dead serious about what he threatened to do.

“Stupid Dean Winchester.” She grumbled.

Squinting at the clock, Y/N woke up the next morning to loud bangs on her door. 7:30 am, it read. Removing the covers, she immediately shivered when the cool air hit her bare legs.

Hair still a mess, she grabbed her robe from the nearby chair, putting it on along with her slippers before she warily made her way to the door. “Dean will be complaining now for sure.” She grumbled as she unlocked her door to reveal her friend standing on the other side in a dishevelled state, eyes red like a mad woman.

“Meg?” Her face scrunched up in confusion as the said woman shoved past her into her apartment. “You’re wearing your shirt inside out.” Y/N closed the door behind her as Meg took a seat on the couch.

“Can I have some water?” Y/N dumbfoundedly nodded at her friend’s request and went to her kitchen to retrieve a glassful. Handing the glass over to her, she sat down next to the brunette who gulped down the entire glass of water in one go. Setting the utensil down on the wooden coffee table in front, she turned towards Y/N with slightly glossy eyes as she spoke, “I don’t want to go and finalise the dresses.”

Her words elicited a laugh from Y/N before she said, “Okay, bridezilla, we can reschedule it. Cas should better watch out!” She chuckled out the last words.

“No, y-you don’t understand!” Meg grabbed her friend’s hands, surprising the latter, “I don’t want to try the dress on at all.” Y/N was utterly surprised over her friend's outburst.

“Honey, you have a wedding in less than two months.” Y/N cooed as a few drops of tears rolled down the bride-to-be’s cheeks. “Meg, talk to me. Did something happen between you two?”

The woman shook her head, letting the other lady in the room know that she didn't have to kick Cas’ ass to her relief, but it confused her even further. Since their engagement five months ago, Meg had been over the moon and had started planning every minute detail with high precision and finesse for her big day.

“What if I'm making a huge mistake?”

“Don’t put me in this position. You know how I am when it comes to-”

“But I need to know, and I trust you.”

Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line before she said, “Cas is the best thing that has ever happened to you-”

“You barely even knew me when I started to go out with him. We have only been together for fifteen months - five of which I have spent being engaged to him. What if I regret this later?” Meg's words were correct. Y/N used to barely talk to her when she had started dating Cas, but all through those eighteen months, as she slowly got to know the pair well enough, she knew that they were clearly meant to be in it for the long haul.

“But I have never seen you regret your decision to be with Cas even once… so why start now?.” Y/N politely answered, her hands letting go of her distraught friend's iron-clad grasp and reaching out to soothe her.

“Sometimes even if you have been with your man for what feels like forever, marrying him might seem to be the worst decision you can ever make, but it doesn't matter how long you have been with him. When you know, you know. Follow your heart.” Meg looked up at her as she mulled her words over before speaking.

“I love him.” She said.

“Then go, be with him.” Y/N smiled. Crisis averted.

A smile started to appear on Meg’s tear stained face as her eyes twinkled with a suggestive glimmer in them. Fiddling with her sparkling ring, she said, “Dean’s good for you. Don't let him go.”

Y/N was taken aback by her friend's supposition. She sat up straight in her seat as heat crept up her neck. Her mind was stuck in a turmoil as she tried to come up with an appropriate response.

“He’s not-Dean is not-” She stuttered, the words got stuck in her throat when she tried to think of a decent excuse. Maybe, this was the universe giving her a chance to take back everything she had said before, but the disheartened look on her friend’s face made her rethink her decision. After all, a little white lie never hurt anybody. “Yeah, he is a good man.” Meg smiled as Y/N played her into the deception game once again.

“Will he be at the wedding?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“What are you waiting for? Unless he is a figment of your imagination, ask him! I want to meet this certain Dean Winchester.” Meg giggled.

“I don’t have such vivid imaginations, Meg.” Y/N let out a nervous chuckle. She was now being given an ample amount of opportunities to tell the truth, then why was it so hard for her to deny everything she had said? Maybe she liked living in this utopian world where for once, no one deemed her as the broken, pathetic girl who failed to make a man stay. Maybe deep down, she wanted this damn lie to be true.

“I’ll ask him but you do know how men are about weddings.” She replied, having no knowledge of how to keep her end of the promise.

Chapter 3

Feedback is highly appreciated

If you want to be tagged in the series, lemme know!

[crookedmusician]

Once Again

A/N:- This is just a drabble that popped up in my head and is based on "The Amazing Spider-Man" universe, NOT based on the Marvel mcu. If you haven't watched the movies then pls read this with an open mind. The drabble is also fixed in a time that is five years after Gwen dies and is completely based on my thought and universe. Please don't read it if you're not comfortable.

Peter Parker x Fem Reader

Genre : Slight Angst, Comfort, Slice of Life

Warnings : Very Slight and descriptive mentions of wounds and death, the characters are all adults, Y/N has a defined profession for the sake of the plot

*This is also not proof read so please bare with any errors if there are any*

It's been Five years.

Five years since Gwen's funeral. Five years since New York city was almost destroyed. Five Years since an innocent boy lost his sanity to death. Five Years since Peter Parker was too late to save his love, his best friend and his emotions to grief.

It had been Five years since that faithful day that still seemed to haunt Peter from time to time.

After the......incident happened, five years ago, Peter had shut off. He didn't talk, eat or even go to work. His job was willing to let him off that time, but the mental pressure that had bundled up inside Peter's head had refused to go. As a result, even after Peter came back, he was only a shell of himself, an empty treasure from which the gold had been stolen - just like how life was stolen from the eyes of so many he failed to save on that one dreadful day.

But If anything broke Peter more than his incompetency to save the lives of those millions he failed, it was the death of Gwen. Death of the only person Peter beleived to have given him a purpose to be Spiderman and save the city and it's residents. His reason to survive every battle he fought. His best friends, girlfriend and his reason, to just live.

Peter still remembers that day, that moment as clear as day. He still remembers the catastrophe that was caused that day, the destruction, the smell of death and spilled blood that matted the air in a heavy silence. He still remembers how the life wilted out from Gwen's eyes as she fell from the tower, as he held her afterwards; he still remembers how her once warm body turned deadly pale, her cheeks stopped sport the regular blush - and they all haunted him. They Traumatized Peter through his day, haunted his nightmares and swam in front of his mind each and every moment he lived. So Peter did the only thing he thought might help, he shut off everyone out of his life, he shut off the flow of emotions in his being, & he swore to never let anyone in, he vowed to not care about anything except defending NYC against the new villains attacking everyday.

Cause Peter Parker may have been a hero, but his emotions flowed through his veins as thickly as the spider's venom in his blood. So promised, to shut out and never let anyone in. That became his coping mechanism.

Yet again, five years later that same spider-boy found himself in the exact position he had been in, five years prior - sitting on the bed of a rooftop apartment while the huge scratches on his chest were being cleaned by the slender hands of a young woman sitting in front of him. It was an awkward kind of deja vu for Peter - Both hurting and comforting to know that someone - other than May cared for him still, however the recollection couldn't help but bring those ugly thoughts back into the forefront of Peter's mind. The same thoughts that occupied his mind in the waking hours.

The scratches burned and sizzled under the alcohol, even though it was applied with softness and expertise; but Peter didn't Flinch. Yes, there was a slight wince here and there, but no reaction revealed was too strong. Years of constant battle against the seemingly never-ending villains of New York happened to make Peter a bit more cautions and tolerating of his injuries - something that seemed to work greatly in favour of Peter at the moment - so as to not make the budding doctor in front overthink her capabilities.

Was New York always so needy and loud for the Spider-Man? This was something that occupied Peter's head often.

However, when he thought back on it, perhaps it was better for him to put his life on the line than have someone innocent or desiderate to live to fight the devils.

I mean, he did fit all the requirements for this job didn't he?

He was young, had the abilities, tolerant of the aftermaths of the fights he carried carved in his skin, bones and blood. Moreover he didn't have anyone to rely on or care for - May would be able to live with him, his job wasn't so special to him if he didn't require the money either. On the contrary Peter thought it to be a blessing to die - to forget all the turmoils, catastrophes of the world; to forget how many villains needed to be fought or how many people needed to be saved - to just forget.

Peter always thought, that maybe he wasn't made for love. That maybe he didn't deserve it. He thought about how everyone he loved left him, deserted him and thinking back on them, he just wondered how much love favoured him in this life. Maybe love didn't favour him at all, maybe love hated him, maybe that's why death always won in each of his chapters. Maybe that's why, Peter had become a void - because love refused to favour the life of this boy. He never really understood why lover never looked upon him with a smile. But guess there was never really an explanation for some grudges.

But if love never favoured him, Then what was this sudden weird electric sparks coursing through his body? This weird fluttering that seemed to keep him up at nights thinking about this one person that flew in his life and and broke past all his resolves to nestle herself comfortably inside the confines of the walls surrounding his heart?

And Peter really never could understand what was happening in his body. At first he thought that perhaps it was his spidey senses. But after a while, when he actually came to a conclusion, he was dumbfounded. Being deprived of love and refusing the comfort of any other hands rather than his own for such a long time - the revelation - was actually quite unexpected by him.

But to say that Peter didn't see all of the unfolding and development of feelings, would be a mistake. Mayhaps, Peter did knew what was happening, did knew that he was falling in a bottomless hole; but the feeling of letting go, the feeling that encompassed the journey was so blissfull it was hard to deny himself the pleasure after denying it for such a long while.

So we recount to a faithful afternoon, two years prior, to an empty & silent alley in one of the bustling streets of NYC.

XXX ♤♡◇♧ XXX

It was just another day in the life of Peter Parker - waking up, packing his suit, taking an early leave or going on a feild trip for his job only to fight the villains and end up all bloody. The only difference was the gushing wound on one of Peter's upper legs that seemed way worse than his regular wounds.

Peter seeked sanctum in one of the empty alleys of the New York Streets to treat the wound only to find himself looking sideways at a young bespectacled woman with curious eyes, hair in a messy bun, clutching one strap of a heavy-looking backpack with some folders and pages in the other - she was staring at him with worry in her orbs.

Usually it wouldn't have been a problem, he'd hit up some pick up lines and flee as far as possible with his wounded leg and never meet the girl again - it was simple and easy without any damage to either his social or personal life. And it would've been easy and simple - Only if Peter had been wearing his mask. But he sadly wasn't, and now he gazed back like a deer caught in the headlights as the figure approached him slowly and cautiously and stopped a few feet away.

"Can you walk?" The words were almost whispered with caution.

"Excuse me?" Peter said in a breathless voice; swinging through the city with an almost torn-off leg does hurt more than Peter imagined, after all.

"Can You walk? With that leg of yours?"

"Yes, I suppose. But why?" Peter asked with confusion and weariness.

"Then please come to the top floor. I can treat your wound."

The clutch of the strap got a bit tighter as the words tumbled out of her lips in the hushed silence of the alley. To say Peter was surprised would be an understatement; it had been a while since someone willingly wanted to help him. But then again, Peyer wasn't weak, was he? He surely could handle that little much laceration wound on his own, right? So just like Peter have always done, to all his colleagues, his neighbours, supposed friends, associates and May, he declined.

"Thank you for the offer but I can Handle this on my own," Peter uttered in the same dazed voice, opting to turn his head down as if signalling the end of the conversation.

"I'm sure you can," the voice chirped again to fill the whispery silence, "to the best of your abilities, but It would be better if I had a look at it. I'm a medical student so I'll be able to ptch it up reall quick too. Besides to treat you'd have to either swing or walk back to your home, and you really can't do either with that deep of a cut anyways. So let me have a look at it, please."

"I said I you do-"

"No you can't, you may clean it or patch it up until you can do it up but the slash is huge, don't you see? If you don't treat it immediately, your whole leg would either get infected or you'll bleed to raw. And I don't think you'l be able to swing your way around the city with a half infected leg anyways. So Please for your leg's sake enter the third window from the right on the top floor of this building so I can nurse the damage. I'll try to get there ASAP," and with that the girl hurried inside a door on the side of the monument on right.

Peter however, was still failing to recover from his daze, and by the time her words actually registered in his head the wound had started to sizzle with wind. He gathered his own stuffed backpack and as slowly and painlessly he can, followed the instructions.

Peter swung to top of the building & crept insided the bedroom of a rooftop apartment that looked very comfy despite being a complete definition catastrophe to found himself in a pair of freshly washed shirt and jogging shorts half an hour later - the girl said they belonged to her father and brother previously.

Peter stared at the unknown woman as she wrapped up the incision in a white cloth. Her fingers were skilled & worked in a quick yet sure manner.

"You can handle pain very well you know?" The woman broke the awkward silence with a glance at Peter's face only find him staring back at her with a monotone face, "the area around the gash had already started getting infected, if I found you a bit later your leg might've fallen off. Still you're very lucky. Thankfuy no valuable nerve was heavily dama-"

"Why are you helping me?" The rambling was interupted by the strict and straight voice of the spidey

"Excuse me?"

"Why are you helping me?"

"Because I can? Am I not allowed to help you? You looked like you needed some serious help though," The woman asked tilting her head slightly.

"Is it a plot?" Years of practice had certainly helped Peter maintain a Poker face, which came in handy as he stared at the confused eyes of the woman in front of him - his heart deeming the expression to be cute.

"A plot?" The woman repeated as she looked at him in disbelief, "You think l'm helping you because l'm involved in a...a...a stupid gang or something that wants to murder you?"

"Or it could be an individual plan," Peter shrugged nonchalantly as he dared not remove his eyes from his supposed - captor.

"An individual pl-?"

"Why else would you help me? If not for your own benefit?"

At this The woman seemed to become a little pissed at Peter's words as she sputtered with her next sentences before finally giving a coherent reply, "Maybe fighting with evel people all your life makes you heroes feel as if good people don't exist but trust me, they do. And quite contrary to your assumptions I just so happen to be one of them."

The woman tied the cloth around Peter's leg in a tight knot & rose from her seat collecting the equipments back in her first aid box, opting to leave the room, offended - instead finding herself halting mid-step at peter's voice calling out to her.

"I'm Peter," Peter gazed at her retreating figure and as she turned around to look at him with judging eyes, "Peter Parker."

The words were uttered into the sunset in a softer tone - as if the speaker was almost shy, which - looking back at the circumstances - Peter probably was. And as the dying rays of the sun filtered through the drawn back curtain of the only window in the room - the one Peter had entered through - encasing the room in all it's ethereal glow, Peter was able to finally get a glimpse of his healer, clearly.

The rays fell on the bed and on womanly figure, bathing her in the delicate glow of dusk, highlighting her dainty features. She was handsome, very much so in the afyernoon light; and despite being pissed and offended a few mintues prior, she took her time in tilting the corners of her lips into a soft amd pleasant smile as the injured man stared at her in awe - that was perfectly hidden beneath his Poker Face.

"I'm Y/N L/N." The names etched itself in Peter's brain ringing sweet bells everytime, serenading him into calmness.

And so since that fateful day, it became a regular event. Whenevr Peter would get hurt - no matter how small or big the wound, he'd always find himself on the doorstep (or window sill), of the tenth floor building on the same street he never remembered the name of. And slowly as the days swept by, the visits weren't just limited to treating wounds. Infact, contary to either of their professions, Peter found both of them had quite a lot in common, and their opinions generally matched - and for the ones that didn't, both of their adjustable manners suited the situations. And as the days brew into nights, Peter found a companion in Y/N - one that Peter hoped lasted for life.

Peter found a best friend to look after him and talk with on rainy days and summer evenings.

××× ♤♡◇♧ ×××

Now, two years later as Peter sat on the same bed he had so many times before, he thought back on all the bitter and sweet memories Life gifted him, and perhaps they were needed for Peter to bring him to this point in life - and Peter never wanted to go back.

It was late. The sun had gone down a few hours prior and the moon glowed brightly in the sky, peeking in through the windows as Peter observed the familliar figure beside him - nursing another one of Peter's daily unwanted gifts.

She looked dainty, almost unreal as the moonlight illuminated the room casting it in the soft glow of night time. As Peter gazed at her, he started carving out all the plains and roughs of her faces, the shape of her eyes, lips and nose, the way her lithe fingers glided across Peter's skin - and Peter couldn't find it in himself to intrupt the dance her fingers were engaged in on his chest. A light breeze swept in through the wind making rounds of the room and messing with the strands hanging around Y/N's face as Peter gazed at the seemingly engaging spiral of movements infront of him.

"Staring is rude, you know?"

The peaceful silence occupying the room was suddenly broken, giving Peter a small start, as Y/N lifted her head barely so as to glance up at Peter's face, her lips curving into a small smirk at the look of slight surprise on his face, before her skilled hands resumed their work.

After a breif moment of comprehension - and more staring as Y/N wrapped up the gashes and stood up to starighten the sheets on the bed as much she could with the tall figure lying on top, Peter finally found his voice strong enough to utter the two words - that he hoped would convey all that was unsaid and all that he wanted to say but couldn't.

"Thank You."

Y/N looked up once again at Peter with a teasing yet soft grin and breathy chuckle, "Pete, don't be so modest about yourself. Patching up your wounds provide me an excuse to practise my skills on a regular basis. And as a junior doc, It's more benifitting to me that it is to you."

Peter let out a breathy chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck as Y/N turned around to put the first aid box at the top of one of her bedroom shelves, "Still thank you, for everything you've done for me. I really appreciate it."

And this time as Y/N turned around to look at her best friend, she paused for a second, taking in the scene before her. The moon casted the same glow on Peter's form as it had on her back - except this time, the star gazed one was Y/N.

She had always wondered how she never once felt awkward with the close proximity, she always seemed to share with Peter. Her heart once whispered because they were menat to be; but the rational part of her brain was quick to shut down the irrational daydream before it could flourish. However the warmth of her cheeks when Peter looked at her, the tiny fluttering in her stomach whenever he'd smile, the warmth in her being when they hugged couldn't be stopped from spreading all through her body.

There were nights, when she wondered how it would be if she was brave enough to turn the page to the next chapter and just ask her best friend out. But then again, even though happiness was granted if the proposal was accepted - the pain, heartbreak and loss of warmth in their friendship, at the refusal was granted in a much greater probability. And thus Y/N drifted off to sleep every night thinking of all the 'ifs' of the world.

But this wasn't the world of dreams, it was the waking world, and as Y/N realised the soft glow in Peter's eyes when he looked at her, she wondered - no, hoped that her feeling might probably be reciprocated.

"It's honestly no biggie Pete. It really isn't," She neared the bed as she said the words, finally sitting upon it with one leg folded on the matress and the othe rdangling down the side, her eyes searched Peter's face carefully noticing the genuine-ness behind Peter's words, "however what is a problem is that you've hadn't had a single mouthful since the meager breakfast this morning. Honestly dude, don't you ever get hungry? If I wa sin your place I'd be starving! Heck, I'm starving even now!"

Peter let out a small breathy laugh at Y/N's dramatics. She always tended to be the more dramatic one, especially regarding matters of food. So sporting a soft smile he looked up Y/N.

"No I'm fine, I'd just have something to eat when i get home."

"Home? Do you even know how late it is?! It's," she hekd up the digital clock on the side of her bed, "9.15 already! You literally live on the other side of the city! By the time you reach your home it would be way past 10! I ain't letting you starve till then boy!"

By now, Y/n had stood up on her feet in front of the bed with her hands on her hips - and Peter found it to be way too cute for her, "Call up Aunt May and tell her that you'll be eating here today. I'll go and start whipping something up in the kitchen, ok?"

"Ok."

"Good," Y/N turned around & exited the room heading down the halls to the kitchen, to scour how much she can that would fill both her and Peter up, while Peter rested on her bed.

Ever since that incident five years ago, Peter had always wondered that maybe love wasn't really meant for him, that maybe love didn't favour him. But now, as he stared at the moonlit retreating figure of Y/N L/N, he prayed to all the love gods in existence, to favour him just this once as he drafted up the same confession, he had been drafting for the past years, to finally come out of his heart and in to minds of the beauty he called his bestfriend.

A/N : Pls tell me how you like it in the comments this is my first story and I would really appreciate the feedback!

Please don't repost or rwupload my work anywhere apart from here.

[avelera]

Yes, “Hamilton” technically fails the Bechdel Test, but fixing this wouldn’t fix the story and shows a fundamental misunderstanding of the musical’s structure

So some dude on Twitter has decided that Hamilton isn’t progressive because it doesn’t pass the Bechdel Test. He is not wrong, exactly, the problem is that it shows a lack of understanding of the story’s structure, ie, it’s not something you can easily change without losing an element that makes Hamilton great, and I don’t say this lightly. (As you can see, this person being wrong on the internet is gnawing at me, but Twitter is the wrong place to illustrate all the ways he’s not exactly wrong, but is missing the point.)

Let me explain. First of all, I do have my problems with Hamilton from a writerly perspective (mostly there are some “Mary Sue-ish” moments where both the characters and the narrative are obsessed with how great he is at moments that feel unearned) and I’ve taken issue in the past with shows that don’t pass the Bechdel Test while being labeled as ‘progressive’. 

But the place where Hamilton fails is, “Two women talking about something other than a man.” Obviously, two women speak in Hamilton, specifically in the song “Schuyler Sisters”, but admittedly they are talking about looking for likely husbands on their trip to NYC. On it’s face, it may seem like the only time the women of the show are speaking, much less to each other, they’re always talking about guys, thus failing the Bechdel Test.

Except they’re not just talking about guys, they’re talking about Alexander. Or rather, they’re setting up the kind of man they’re looking for and what attracts them, which is setting up their attraction to Alexander we will see in “Helpless” and “Satisfied”. Again, maybe not a good excuse for Bechdel purists. 

The thing is, and this is where Twitter Dude is wrong in his analysis, literally every single song of the musical is about Alexander in some way. I promise you, people like Burr and Washington had stuff going on in their life that has nothing to do with Alexander, but the only time they’re in the show singing about their problems in life is when it directly relates to Alexander. “Right Hand Man” introduces Washington and the Revolutionary War, but it’s specifically about his search for an assistant who turns out to be Alexander. “Wait For It” is about Burr’s motivation in life, but it’s presented in relation to how Alexander influences his motivations and how he sees himself. When you dig down, every single song is about Alexander in some way or another.

And this is a good thing, structurally. Hamilton is a biography of Alexander Hamilton (and, some could successfully argue, Eliza Hamilton) with a heavily unreliable narrator who thinks Alexander is the greatest, and him being the greatest is the rationale for why the story is being told. Therefore, from a writerly perspective, the way we keep the narrative tight is by making sure that every beat and song ties back to the central rationale of the story and why it’s being told, which is to tell the story of this great guy Alexander Hamilton.

Making every song in some way about Alexander, keeps the story focused. Keeping the story focused, allows the musical to showcase a wide variety of characters and musical styles, because we’re never left wondering “Why did the music just change and what does it mean? Who is this person? What do they have to do with the story?” Because the story is Alexander and they all relate to him eventually.

Yes, this undermines the literal definition of the Bechdel Test, but it’s not an edit that would improve the story because that singular focus allows the musical to pull off as much as it does. Having the Schuyler sisters discuss something that has no relationship to Alexander’s life would muddy the narrative. I’m sure, in theory, it’s possible but I’m not sure it actually adds anything besides the brownie points of having literally accomplished this. The Schuyler sisters are well written, rounded out characters, who have their own complex inner lives. Yet we see those characters almost entirely in relation to Alexander because every character in the musical has rich inner lives that we’re only exposed to when those lives intertwine with Alexander’s story. 

Which, for the record, is a great lesson on tight biographical story structure for writers!

[chaoslynx]

hey, I'd like your input on a certain question I have pertaining to a hypothetical alternate ending of banana fish (the one where ash survives his stab wound). if you're not sure how to answer, that's completely fine, but I've seen so many people in the fandom claim so many different things about what would have happened if he survived, and I'm searching for a solid opinion.

I think the majority of the fandom can collectively agree that ash didn't need to die in order to heal from his trauma. I've see a lot of idiots say that even if ash lived, he would never heal or escape his past trauma, and so dying was the best outcome for his circumstances, which I'm sure the majority of us with more than 1 active braincell knows that's utter dog shit, and that survivors can heal no matter how big of a wound they may need treated.

however, I've seen people say that dying was his best option, NOT because he wouldn't have healed from his trauma, but because he wouldn't have the chance to heal considering the fact that he'd always be hunted down by his enemies. I've also seen people claim that even if he moved countries, he'd always be in constant danger because people would never stop looking for him. that he, as well as eiji, would have to live in fear and would never find peace due to the enemies ash has made during his lifetime.

I'm not sure what to think of this. I believe he'd be able to fake his death, borrow a new identity, and fake a passport to get on that damn plane headed to Japan. some have said that he wouldn't be able to due to his criminal record and so he'd never be allowed on a plane, which I also believe is dog shit. if that blond can scam millions of dollars out of and buy a condo right across from his #1 enemy without being caught, he can fucking travel. it's absurd how part of the fandom STILL underestimates his abilities, considering that he's shown time and time again of how capable and intelligent he truly is.

If you're able to answer, I'd like your opinion. we've established that survivors are able to heal no matter how big the baggage, but do you think he'd get the chance to heal, or would he always be on the run? would he forever be preoccupied with running from his enemies, or do you think his enemies would die trying to find him? I personally think that since his #1 enemy, D*no, is charred to a crisp, that he'd be somewhat safe from the rest. I don't think they'd even find him in an entirely different country in an entirely different continent.

but what do I know, honestly? maybe Yoshida confirmed that even if he did survive, he'd still be on the run until he died. I know she's said that murderers didn't deserve happy endings (bullshit, considering the circumstances that ash was in), but I'm not sure if she's clarified whether he would be on the run if he did hypothetically live. what do you think? no pressure :)

First of all, I'm a big fan of ignoring things Yoshida said.

I'm glad we agree that trauma survivors can heal! Also a big fan of that. Not gonna discuss that more here since we're already on the same page 💖

Before I get into whether or not Ash could ever escape from his enemies, I'd like to establish something about myself and my beliefs. I, personally, think that living is always going to be the better option. I am not going to be taking this question as a "could Ash have escaped his enemies, or is it good that he died?" That's not the problem here. The question I'll respond to below is "could Ash have escaped his enemies, or would he have always been on the run?"

This is an important distinction, because the first question implies that some lives just aren't worth living. I think your intentions here were good, so please don't take this as an attack on you in any way! But I'm not a fan of "living in fear [or living any other way] is worse than death" for a number of reasons. For one thing, dying is permanent. Once you die, there's never a chance of it getting better. It's literally a permanent solution to what often has the potential to be a temporary problem.

Also, any sort of "death is better" logic is a very slippery slope to be walking. If death is better than living in fear, is it also better than living with a permanent disability? With a chronic illness? At what point is it bad but still worth living through? Will Ash, on some level, always be living in fear due to what's likely post-traumatic stress disorder? Healing is obviously possible, but healing means learning how to cope better with a history of trauma, not getting rid of it.

So we're essentially asking the same question that we've already established the answer to: Is it better to live than to die? And, uh, yeah. Yeah, it is.

So anyway, moving onto the question I believe you were intending to ask: Would Ash have been able to escape his enemies?

Yeah. He would have.

For one thing, most of the people who actually gave a shit were already dead. Sure, the Corsican Foundation still existed, but most of them probably didn't think much of Ash besides him being Dino's favorite. There were those who saw Ash's mind in action during that month he spent with Dino during canon, but without Dino there, they have no reason to want Ash dead. Same with the ones who wanted Ash dead before the National Health Institute arc, if they weren't already dead themselves by the end of canon (like Kippard).

If Ash weren't going after them, I don't see why any of them would go after Ash.

Yut-Lung arguably had more enemies than Ash did by the end of canon, which was even Blanca's excuse for agreeing to work for him, but I don't see anyone arguing that Yue should have died. (I believe that he was canonically killed by one of his enemies at some point after Garden of Light, but does that mean that those 7+ years of freedom that he lived were pointless just because they came to an end?)

As far as traveling, yeah, Ash absolutely would have been able to fake an identity if he needed to. Like you said, he's done worse, and it's not like he doesn't have the connections for it. Although ...

I don't know if I've ever fully explained it in a fic or on here, but here's how I usually write post-canon.

Ash and Eiji stay in NYC. We know that moving back to the States and staying there is possible for Eiji, because ... it's what he does in canon after Ash's death. It's mentioned in GoL that Eiji moved back before he even healed completely from his gunshot wound, and that he got his Permanent Resident Card five years later.

As far as Ash, as much as a fucking pain in the ass it would be for him, I usually write him as actually testifying in court against ... fucking everyone. He gets help with this from Max, of course, and also from Jessica (who leaked Max's investigation, including the evidence they obtained from Frog, to the media in episode 23). In return for his testimony, he's granted total witness immunity for his crimes. ((Keep in mind that I know nothing about legal processes and how this would actually work in real life, but for fanfiction purposes that's how I choose to write it.))

So basically: Fuck Yoshida. Fuck death. Live your best life. YOLO.

[thebigqueer]

Solangelo - "I Will Follow You into the Dark" - One-Shot

Summary: Will and Nico discuss their upcoming trip to Tartarus and argue about it.

Word Count: 2166

TW: Implied Homophobia (super small, though) SPOILERS: The Burning Maze, Tower of Nero

Read on AO3

It’s been a shaky morning, to say the least.

Will and Nico had to get up early to go find a gift for the Trogs, and it really was no easy hassle for either of them to get up. So much had happened the day before that it was almost impossible to find the will to rise early.

But somehow they managed it. With sleep still heavy in their eyes and a pale sheen over both their skins, the boys ventured out of Camp Half-Blood to accomplish the first step before the looming chaos: getting a lizard.

It’s about eleven in the morning by the time they find themselves on the subway train. The vehicle creaks and groans as the boys are submerged into darkness.

Will and Nico were lucky enough to get a seat right next to each other. The subway train is packed with people just as tired they are, all zooming forward to complete their mundane, uneventful lives.

Will wonders if they even know how much their life is in danger today. It’s always been a little funny how demigods and gods work behind the scenes to keep the world away from devastation, all just to see that mortals are so painfully oblivious to things happening around them. But Will supposes they have an excuse - many of them can’t see through the Mist, and besides, they all have their own smaller worries to care about.

If only his own worries were as small as theirs.

Will leans into Nico a little, pressing his arm against the son of Hades. Even though it’s barely a show of affection, a burst of pink blooms over Nico’s nose and cheeks. Will decides to lean away a little at the sight. He knows that Nico is not comfortable with too much public affection, especially in public places like NYC, which Will can understand. He’d rather die by the hands of a monster instead of a mere mortal who can’t accept who he is.

Nonetheless, Nico touches Will’s finger with his, just a little, and that’s enough to make Will smile. No one can see their hands touching, but maybe that’s what makes the touch so exciting to Will - they’re doing this in secret, living in their own tiny world.

Will eases into Nico again, just a little bit - not enough to make their relationship painfully obvious, but enough to tell Nico he’s here. A ghost of a smile haunts Nico’s lips.

“Thank you for agreeing to come today,” Nico says, his voice sweet and gentle as honey as it sweeps through Will’s ears. He turns his head to look at Will, and just as he does, the train opens up into the bright sunny light. It flashes against the right side of his face, seeps into his skin, illuminates his dark eyes. He can do anything and make it look like a Renaissance painting.

Will smiles. “Well, I’m not going to let you go alone.”

Nico raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know, Will. You didn’t seem very excited to come with me. You know, what with the whole ‘the Trogs are bad for you, Nico,’ ‘don’t risk your mental health, Nico,’ ‘no, Nico.’”

Will sighs. “And yet you still decided to go.”

“I would be dooming everyone if I didn’t.”

“But do you realize that sometimes you don’t need to take the weight of the world on your shoulders all the time?”

“Well, isn’t that why you’re coming with me today? To help take some of the weight?”

Will lowers his gaze as a trickle of fear slithers down his back. “I’m not really talking about the Trogs anymore.”

“I figured you weren’t.” An icier tone stabs Nico’s words, and Will winces. “I don’t want to talk about Tartarus right now.” His eyes waver around the train. “Not here, at least.”

Will wants to keep talking about it, though. But he sees the shadows behind Nico’s eyes, the underlying fear that plagues him at night.

“Fine,” he whispers boldly. “We’ll talk about it when we get off.”

~

About fifteen minutes later, the subway train screeches to a halt at the station. Darkness has once again infiltrated their space, and the scent of trash and dirt swims around the boys. Will sticks close to Nico, just to make sure neither of them get lost in the chaos of New York City.

As soon as they’re out into fresh air, Will tugs his boyfriend’s hand, stopping the both of them in their tracks. People mill around, pushing past the two, but the boys are stuck in time. Nico looks at Will, a darkness roiling behind his irises, and Will knows that they have to talk about it now. He wants them to.

Nico sighs and steps closer, slipping his hand out of Will’s. He crosses his arms across his chest. “We have a mission, Will. This is important. Why are we talking about this now?”

“We need to.” Quickly, Will rushes the two of them to an empty alleyway, where shadows envelop them in a cold embrace and silence segregates them from the rest of the world. While the day outside is sunny and warm, a cold breeze brushes against their faces in the shade.

Nico scrubs his face in annoyance. “I don’t understand why we have to talk about this now.”

“We haven’t talked about it at all,” Will says. “Every time I try to, you always switch the topic or we get whisked away to something new.”

“Then what do you want to talk about?” Nico grumbles. “We already know that it’s likely I have to go back in. What else is there to discuss?”

“What we have to discuss is who’s going with you. You’re not going down there alone again.”

Nico laughs curtly. “Will, I’m not taking you with me. You already offered and I’m turning you down. I’m going on my own.”

Will shakes his head. “Nico, you can’t. You just started getting voices from someone in Tartarus - who, by the way, we aren’t even sure is real - and you’re thinking that you have to go.” Will steps closer, his curls bouncing mere inches from Nico’s face. “If you have to go, I’m going with you. You went in and almost lost your sanity. It’s a miracle you even made it out alive and with your mind intact. Going back in will be like a shredder to your brain, and not to mention you’re going to be even more mentally unstable than the first time.”

Nico raises a brow. “I beg to differ. I’ll be going in stronger than last time.” He pulls away from the blond. “I’m stronger than I was then, Will. I’m emotionally, mentally, and physically better. You don’t need to think I’m fragile.”

“I don’t think you’re fragile, Nico.” Will’s mouth curls into a frown, and concern laces in his eyes. “I never think that.”

“Then why are you insisting to come with me? If anything, you’re going to be worse off than I am.”

At his words, Will’s heart skips a beat. Red hot rage simmers over his blood, invades his system, folds over his mind. “Why would I be worse off?” Will asks, a scowl flashing over his features. Before Nico can answer, he blurts, “Is it because I’m weak? Because I’m just a kid of Apollo? Because I’m better at healing and that I’m some kind of sweet, innocent child of nature?” Without meaning to, all of Will’s repressed anger spills into his words, puddles out into the open. The ache of tears builds up in his throat, choking him with his rage. Will drowns in his insecurities, suffocates under his sadness.

“Because I’m not a child of the Big Three?” he suggests further, his voice like shards of glass that sink into Nico’s skin. “Is that why I’m going to be worse?”

Nico blinks in surprise. He steps back a little, fear sparkling in his eyes. As much as Will hates to make him feel that way, there’s still that inkling of pride at the back of his mind. He’s making someone afraid. He’s never able to do that.

Nico shakes his head vigorously. “No, Will, I would never think that. It’s not because you’re weak. You’re not weak.”

“Then what is it? Am I useless to you? Nothing more than your pretty, innocent boyfriend?”

“Where is this coming from? Why are you acting like this?”

Nico’s words echo in Will’s brain, prodding through his mind. Will blinks, surprised by his question. Where is this coming from? Will wonders.

A wave of emotions overflows in his chest, surges in his throat, rises to his head. His vision turns red and yellow and he holds his head in his hands, trying to stop the rage in his body. He feels like he’s going to explode, to combust, to burn up. He’s going to destroy everything in this alleyway.

Tears prick his eyes, and one slips out of the corner, creating a crack against the side of his face. He’s breaking. “I can’t let you go alone, Nico,” Will whispers, voice pleading, begging, urging. He grabs for Nico’s hands, yearning for his warmth. “I can’t let you risk your life. I can’t let another person die.”

Nico’s chest heaves with each breath, his own eyes swimming with tears. His mouth is pulled at the corners, stretched with anger and exhaustion and annoyance. For a second, he lets Will take his hands, to hold him. But then he snatches them back angrily, a scowl prominent across his features.

“How do you think I feel letting you come with me?” Nico hisses, his hands shivering at his sides. “I can’t let you die because of me, Will. You’re one of the few people I have left in this world. Jason died. My mother died. Bianca left me. I’m not letting you leave me, too. Not if I can fucking help it.” A teardrop rolls down the side of his face and he wipes it away, but two more slip over his face. “You’re not coming and that’s final.”

Will runs his hands through his curls in frustration. “Why aren’t you understanding this, Nico?” he hisses. “Why can’t you see that I feel the same way? You know how guilty I feel each and every time someone dies. If I don’t offer to come with you, then that’s like saying I’m letting you die. Your blood will be on my hands if I don’t come, because I could stop you but I wouldn’t be able to if you go on your own.” A sob stabs his chest. “I don’t want you to die.”

“That’s how I feel!” Nico cries, his anger ringing in the alleyway. The darkness around them pulses. “I don’t want you to die. Taking you with me is promising that I’m going to be responsible for your death! And I don’t want that! I don’t want… I don’t want to be responsible for your death. I don’t want you risking your life for me. It’s not worth it.”

“But you’re not forcing me to go with you!” Will protests, his fingers twitching. “I’m doing it on my own.” He pulls closer to Nico again, grasping for his hands, grasping for his realness. He needs Nico to understand how willing he is to follow Nico into the dark, the danger, the devastation. “My death will not be in your hands because I’m choosing to go with you. If one of us falls, then we both fall. I’m not letting you go down on your own.”

Nico’s breath hitches as another broken sob echoes around them. Pain chokes his words as he says, “If I go, it’s my choice to go on my own. That isn’t your fault. Why won’t you understand that?”

“For the same reason that you can’t understand my point,” Will says, groping for Nico’s warmth again. “Because we care about each other too much. But, Nico, please. I need to go. I can’t… I don’t… You can’t do this on your own. You don’t need to be the hero on your own all the time. Let someone else be there with you.” Will leans in once more, pressing his forehead against Nico’s. The son of Hades melts into the touch, raising his head just a little. “You’ve been alone too long. You don’t need to be anymore.”

Silence encompasses them again. They’re swirling in a tornado of emotions, lifting off from the ground, joining together in confusion.

Then Nico steps away. He wipes his face against his sleeve, trying to get rid of all the emotion that took over him just moments ago. Behind his dark eyes, Will sees the stubbornness crashing down, the walls crumbling.

But they’re not falling enough. The ruins still stand high.

Nico lets go of the blond’s hand. “We’ll see,” is all he says.

And he steps out of the alleyway, entering the universe once more, leaving Will in the darkness.

[babylooneytoonz]

Summary: Your first meeting with Sergeant Barnes wasn't exactly charming, hell, it was a disaster. And the only adjectives that came to your mind when you thought about him were words like prick, bastard and a jackass. He made your life hell, and you lived to make sure you made him suffer. And neither of you realized, how your sole mission of tormenting each other became the most important part of your life.

Warnings: Bucky Barnes continues to be an ass // Reader has finally has it // War declared

Coffee Stains - Masterlist

Coffee Stains

Your anger still lingered inside of you like a deep rooted worm, even after you had stepped into the warm soothing shower, after your encounter with whoever the fuck that man was. You were still annoyed, and you were sure as hell worried that your mood might end up affecting your performance at the training today. You stood in your room, the pads of your feet nestled onto the feathery carpet that adorned the floor of your apartment, semi dressed when you heard Friday.

"Miss Y/N, Captain is here, waiting for you."

You frowned, wondering if it was already 7 and somehow, you had lost the track of time, but you noted that it was still 6: 40 pm by the clock.

"Thank you, Friday," that was the fastest you had ever gotten into your yoga pants, pulling it over your round bum, the elastic strap stinging against your soft fleshy belly as it hit it with a slap. The towel still rolled over your hair, you ran up to the door and flung it open, only to see Steve standing there with two people you didn't know of and who were probably newbies like you.

"Y/N, how are you holding up?" Steve asked in soft voice, and somehow you found your previous anger slowly melting away.

"Great, Steve. I thought I'm late on my first day," your lips now crept upwards in a grin, and Steve just shook his head, his hand flying to the back of his head as he ran his fingers through his blond locks.

"I thought I'd introduce you to the two of them, they were the only ones I could find lurking in the recreation room, so I dragged them here."

"No, you did not, I was the one that insisted I wanted to meet the newbie," the dark haired girl just winked playfully in your direction, and you couldn't help but snort at her words when you saw Steve's face turn crimson like a cherry.

"I'm Wanda, well, people around here might call me stuff like the Sokovian witch and all that, but when they're saying that, consider it is me they're talking about." The woman threw out her hand towards you, her hand extended in a shake, and you took her hand, feeling a comfortable warmth radiating from her. Wanda then turned towards the one to her right, and smiled, "Well this one doesn't talk much, but you'll like him."

"Hello Miss Y/N, my name is Vision, and I have taken it upon myself to welcome you to our team."

"Thank you Vision, it's my pleasure." You shook his hand; the little meet and greet causing you to temporarily forget about the man; the stranger you had met in the kitchen a few minutes back.

Steve's thick voice reaching your ears caused you to turn towards him, and you saw him looking at the trio of you with a small smile playing on his lips.

"Well, I'll leave you guys to it– " He took a step away, his front turned towards you, but his steps moving backwards until he was now a good distance away, " Y/N, I will expect you to be at the training room in ten minutes." With that, his heavy footsteps retreated away, until you couldn't hear him anymore, and you were left standing with Wanda and Vision, on your doorstep.

"Around here, punctuality is the key. And in general," Vision began.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

Vision and Wanda lingered around in your apartment for the next ten minutes along with you, talking to you about the life at the Avengers Towers and how you got used to it once you had started adjusting.

"After a while, it feels like you are living with your roommates, except the fact that they all are superheroes," Wanda chuckled, as she watched you place your glasses away and pull out your contact lenses and fix them into your eyes.

Exactly nine minutes later, you left your apartment, and slowly started making you way towards the training room with your newly found friends, who you realized just couldn't stop bantering and talking amongst themselves; and it was cute, not in a way you felt left out. The three of you made your way to the fourth floor, and towards the training room when Wanda and Vision finally parted ways with you as it was time for their own training as well, leaving you alone.

It wasn't long before you reached the training room, but before you could step in, you heard muffled voices from the inside, until you strained your ears a little and an automatically induced frown found its way to your forehead.

"What's gotten you so grumpy today, Buck?"

Steve.

The other voice that replied wasn't one of the voices you really wished to hear again.

"What's with Stark hiring all the weirdos found in NYC? I can't believe my best tshirt got ruined."

"Come on Buck, it was a tshirt. And besides, I'm sure it was an accident."

"Who the hell cares what it was, if I was Stark, I would have fired her lousy ass right away."

"Buck, language."

You couldn't believe this piece of shit was still stuck over what had happened that afternoon. You couldn't say you had forgotten about it, but atleast you were acting all grown up and weren't bitching about it to anyone. And here he was, bitching around with none other than your mentor. This day was getting worse and worse, and you internally begged to call it a day and disappear into your apartment so you could peacefully spend your night curled in that soft, mushy pillows and the silken sheets.

You cleared your throat, intentionally, so you could announce your presence and as if on cue, Bucky's head snapped in your direction and his scowl widened, making him narrow his eyes at you.

"You again? The hell you following me around for? If you're here to apologize– "

Steve's eyes widened when he sensed the tension slowly rising in the room and it wasn't like he was daft. Having put the two and two together, he understood now that the person responsible for putting Bucky in this foul mood had been you, well not intentionally.

"Buck, easy. She is our newest recruit. Thank you for being on time, Agent."

Bucky took a double take, his eyes raking over you, in a very obvious way; and not in a sexual kind of a way but in a way to believe that he was truly shocked. This annoyed you even more and your fingers clenched against your sides.

"You got to be kidding me, punk. She can't even walk straight while holding a darn mug of coffee."

That's it, you had it with him taking continuous digs at you.

"You know, you deserved it. And now I wish it wasn't just coffee but something way worse. Probably horse piss," you literally spat and if it wasn't for Steve who had now fixed himself in front of you, blocking the two of you from slamming anything you could lay your hands on, into each other's faces, things would have gotten messy in the training room within seconds.

"Bucky–" he warned, his palm outstretched towards him, glaring at him, "we have to train now."

He then turned towards you, his expression reflecting a bit of disappointment in his orbs, "Y/N, I expect atleast one of you to be sensible, and if not, then cordial, he is a senior in here."

It suddenly clicked in the back of your head. You had watched the coverage of the Battle of Triskelion on TV. So, this was him, that ass, Winter Soldier. Of course, this man had issues, like really serious ones. But that didn't excuse the way he was behaving with you. But also, you knew that Steve was right. There was no point in engaging with him, so you decided to just be cordial, if it meant not having to deal with his shit anymore.

"Fine." You grumbled, almost under your breath.

Running your hand through your short shoulder length (Y/H/C) hair, you finally walked up to where Steve was standing, already in the Captain America mode now.

"Today, we'll test your hand to hand combat skills," you heard him say and you nodded your head, zoning out all the unwanted presences in the training room, although you could feel Bucky's piercing gaze on you. You knew he wanted to watch you fail, and falter but you weren't going to give him a chance.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

Sweat drenched down your face, dripping off your neck, as you shifted the weight of your body and threw out your fisted palm towards your mentor, with a sudden looping overhand, but Steve managed to block your punch, his own aim now towards your nose. Your reflexes had kicked in, causing you to duck at the right time and block his punch, at the same time managing to knock him off his feet with your foot thrown out.

Captain America was hard to beat, but so were you.

The distance had once again taken its place in front of the two of you, and the two of you were ready for another round, and you were glancing at your opponent, analyzing what he was thinking, what his next moves were. He was subdued, the weight of his body shifted to his left, his eyes narrowed at you, probably ready to attack, but you couldn't be sure; maybe he wanted you to attack first, and then he would counter you.

Suddenly, he lunged at you, his fists aimed in an attack and you had been wrong there, to study his body language, and even worse, when you let yourself get distracted when you heard a low, meenacing and annoying voice reach out to you, "Agent.. are you sure you can see Steve, because you don't seem to have your glasses on. Not that you know where to go even with them on."

Your eyes flew to him in disbelief and your mouth curved into a perfect O, making you lose your fighting stance, and your guard. Steve was already fast, and when he heard Bucky's taunt, he tried to shoot him a sharp glare for distracting you, but he couldn't stop himself, he was so in momentum, his heavy palm cracked against your abs, throwing you away, down on the mat with a force you didn't think was possible.

Steve threw his hands in the air, as he rushed over to you, kneeling down beside you, to check if you were alright, but you gave him a tight lipped smile and nodded, sitting upright, shooting Bucky a glare.

"I didn't know they taught you these cheap tactics of distracting people back at the army, Sergeant."

Bucky smiled, leaning forward slightly, so his elbows were resting against his knees, his lips stretched into what looked like an evil smirk.

"Weak people always find excuses, one way or the other. You let yourself get distracted."

He stood up, with slow steps, walking over towards you. By that time, you had lifted yourself off the mat, and your hands had flown to your hips, your neck held upright. Bucky stepped onto the mat, moving in front of Steve, who had opened his mouth in protest, but hadn't yet said anything, until Bucky was in your face, giving you a stare down.

"This is the real deal. I don't know where you came from or what you did. But this is the real deal. There will be real enemies, and they will do everything on their part to distract you. There is no room for weakness here."

Suddenly, a feeling of dread washed over you, it wasn't exactly dread, but it was something else all together, like a sudden burst of adrenaline , perhaps provoked by his words, but also because of his close proximity. You hadn't realized till that moment, and perhaps, neither had he, but he was so close, you could feel his hot breath on your face which caused your eyes to involuntarily fall over his lips for a second, and then back up, until you caught him smirking down at you, probably basking in his little mountain of victory.

You only thanked Steve inwardly, when he suddenly stepped in, breaking whatever this moment was, when he grabbed Bucky's palm and pulled him away from you, his eyes now on him, a look passing between the two of them that you couldn't decipher. Maybe it was a best friend thing between them, something only the two of them knew of.

"Buck, that's enough, she was good, and you know she was."

"I agree."

When a foreign voice sounded in the room, the three heads involuntarily snapped in that direction, only to find Sam Wilson leaning against the door, a half eaten apple in his hand, and his mouth moving as he was chewing on it.

"What?" He shrugged, his voice sounding unclear as his mouth was completely stuffed, "that was the Captain that she just fought. And I am impressed."

Your expressions softened, and a smile broke out on your lips and you nodded towards Sam, who nodded back with his eyes twinkling at you.

Bucky shrugged and finally, he let his shoulders relax, and shot you a quick look, "I don't think so. I think you just went soft on her."

You scoffed in disbelief, biting your lower lip to bite back from barking back at him and moved away from the mat to grab a chilled bottle of water that lay on a table. Your fingers worked on the bottle and at the same time, your eyes remained on Bucky, and Sam who had now joined the two of the super soldiers. You could see that Steve was trying to knock some sense into Bucky, tell him how he was just overdoing it, but Bucky just deadpanned, his glare fixed on you until he again took a dig at you, and this time you couldn't take it.

"Did it hurt? That blow to your –" He pointed his index finger towards his abs, that cocky smirk still draped over his lips,   "Now maybe that's payback, for almost burning me a few hours back."

His words caused you to almost tighten your grip on the bottle, the grip so hard, the plastic of the bottle almost shrank. You took a deep breath, taking one step towards him, slowly, before your pace rose, and you were striding towards him, your eyes brewing with anger. The bottle was still in your hand, the cap laying abandoned on the table, so when you were sure you were at a close proximity from him, you tipped the bottle, letting the cold water drain through his tshirt, right on his abs, drenching him completely.

"There you go, I think it won't burn now, I feel I should have done that hours back, atleast you wouldn't be crying about it till now."

Steve closed his eyes, his palm flying to his face as he swiped his hand over his face. He knew that things were going to get murky now, and things had gotten out of hand, which is why his grip on Bucky's arm tightened. Bucky was seething, partly in rage, and partly due to a sudden flush of what he could only name as embarrassment, while Sam was openly smirking at what he had just witnessed.

A woman had managed to shut the Winter Soldier up, and how, with cold water right on his burns.

Today was a good day.

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