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samingtonwilson · 4 years

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Apartment 8C - Chapter 1

Telling the Kids About Your Separation

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: college au. you and bucky are the closest of friends, the most functional of roommates, and… exes. but just because it didn’t work out romantically doesn’t mean he has to move out! it’s not like he’s so deeply in love that he can barely breathe. totally not in love. at all. not even a little. maybe.

Pairing: bucky x reader

Warnings: language

A/N: SHE’S BACK, LADIES. the only tag list i’m using is the permanent one, nothing specifically for this series sorry!

“You guys said it wouldn’t last…”

Natasha looks between the two of you. Steve’s beer is at his lips but he doesn’t take a sip. Wanda’s fingers pause in the bowl of popcorn she’s placed in her lap. Only Sam has a visibly emotional reaction.

He’s on the verge of bursting— maybe in frustration as the two of you are blocking the television, maybe in laughter.

It doesn’t help that you’ve hidden your hands behind your back. Nor does it help that you and Bucky are both grinning like giddy idiots while you stare at your friends who now sit with pin-straight postures on the sectional in your living room.

“And you were right!” you shout once several awkward beats have passed.

There is a loud POP! when you bring your hands forward to twist the bottom of a party popper, iridescent confetti falling over the coffee table and tangling itself in Natasha’s hair, and a triple air horn sound effect cuts through the silence when Bucky opens the app on his phone.

The two of you are laughing and high-fiving one another, but the four before you continue staring.

That is, until longsuffering Sam— fingers pressed into his temples— speaks. “You called us over here to tell us you broke up?”

Bucky shrugs and takes the empty party popper from you. He turns it over and shakes it, disappointed when more confetti doesn’t fall out. After all, he’d purchased the ones from Target just for the extra confetti. “We have consciously uncoupled.”

“That term refers to divorce,” Wanda says as she picks the confetti out of the popcorn and lets it fall to the floor. When she looks up, her expression is equal parts exasperation and amusement. “And, as far as I know, you two were never married.”

Natasha, fingers combing through her hair, frowns. “I actually forgot you were even dating.”

“Yeah, so did she,” Bucky says as he jabs his elbow into your ribs with a snort. “We didn’t want you guys finding out from somewhere else.”

“Like where?” Sam asks. He scoots over to let you sit beside him, eyes narrowed at Bucky who falls into his usual spot— the worn barcalounger you’d begged him not to bring when he moved in. “You think they’d send out a campus-wide alert that you two broke up? Or that E! News would be reporting it after they talk about whichever Kardashian is having another baby?”

That steals Wanda’s attention from the popcorn bowl. “Speaking of, how is one of them always pregnant?”

There’s a fair amount of indistinct chatter to answer Wanda’s question, but it is all loudly interrupted with a simple: “Does this mean Bucky is moving out?”

It seems that everyone turns to look at Steve simultaneously. Squeaks of leather as you all shift around, the click of a bowl being placed on the wooden table.

He understands the question in all of your gazes, and shrugs with a sigh of defeat. “They’re probably just genetically very fertile— Kris has had, like, eighteen children herself. Now, does Bucky have to find a place?”

Then all eyes slide to you. Your eyebrows furrow and your nose wrinkles. The absolute picture of disbelief. It has Bucky fighting a smile. “Why would he need to do that?”

“Living with an ex is hard,” Sam replies. He sets his hand on yours and gives your fingers a light squeeze. It’s meant to be comforting, but it isn’t necessary. “It’d make sense if you couldn’t—”

“Bucky moved in a while before we started dating,” you tell them, each word said in an imploring tone. “He still has his bedroom, I still have mine. Besides, we didn’t break-up because we can’t stand being around each other.”

“Then why did you break-up?”

The inquiry is directed at Bucky, who everyone shifts to face. The piercing attention draws a light blush over the bridge of his nose and at the highpoints of his cheeks. You hold back a soft laugh. “We’re just better as friends. The romantic compatibility wasn’t there.”

“Romantic compatibility, conscious uncoupling,” Natasha repeats with a surprised laugh. “Does this man have a Goop membership, or something?”

Despite your own laughter, you nod at Bucky. “He’s right, though. It just— Something was missing.”

As inarticulate as it is, it’s the truth. There was nothing wrong with your relationship, at least at first glance. You kissed each other hello— when you remembered— and you kissed each other goodbye— when you remembered.

But you often forgot— you usually forgot. Which might be explanation enough as to why the two of you didn’t last.

—

“Was the sex bad?”

You nearly choke on the sip of wine you’d taken. Glancing at the boys in the living room to confirm they were blissfully unaware of Wanda in the kitchen, you set your glass onto the counter and narrow your eyes at her. “You should increase your volume the next time you ask something like that.”

“It couldn’t have been too bad,” Natasha says from the barstool beside Wanda’s, still frowning. She’d managed to remove every piece of confetti from her hair and it now sits in a small pile next to her glass. “You two weren’t exactly virgins when you met.”

Your answering smile is sarcastic. “Hilarious. The sex wasn’t bad. He’s— He’s good at it.”

“Yeah, that was convincing,” Natasha snorts into her glass as she takes a sip. “For his sake, I hope none of us let it slip that Barnes’ dick is trash.”

“It isn’t trash! Okay.” You wiggle a finger at Wanda. “You. Imagine having sex with Steve.”

Her nose immediately wrinkles, her scowl instantaneous. “Understood. But then why date in the first place?”

“Remember the night my ‘friends’ from high school were in the city?”

The smile Natasha wore due to your finger quotes gives way to a deep grimace. “The night that girl with the bad bleach job pranced around here showing her ring off? I wish I could forget.”

You nod. “All night, she kept telling me someone might be out there for me. That I probably won’t be too late, that some people end up alone and it’s okay. Like I’m tofu and she’s apple pie.”

“You lost me with that one.”

“Like I’m an acquired taste and she’s universally appealing.”

You smile when they laugh to themselves, but shake your head seconds later. “I don’t care if I end up alone. I’ll be fine either way. It’s just the insinuation that I’ll fail if I try to find someone. Like it’s prom all over again.”

“D’you punch her teeth in? Can I punch her teeth in?”

You roll your eyes at Natasha. “I drank my weight in whatever bullshit wine she’s stupid enough to pay for, texted Bucky to pick me up, and fucked him on the couch to make myself feel better.”

Her features twist in disgust. “The couch we all sit on?”

—

While Sam yells at the television as if the New York Giants can hear his admonishments and advice, Steve sits back against the sofa cushions. His sigh is heavy and pointed, meant to draw attention, but it fails.

So he places his feet on the coffee table. He crosses his legs at the ankle. And he glares.

An unsuccessful moment later, he speaks. “I’m not gonna let you crash on my couch.”

Unable to stop himself, Bucky smiles but otherwise focuses on the game. “That’s a fun psychic premonition. Do you read palms, too?”

Steve attempts to look more threatening and narrows his eyes to slits. The blue is icy, menacing.

However the elephant cushion he’s clutching to his chest? Not helping his cause. “So she dumped you because you’re a pain in the ass? Is that it?”

“She dumped me because I’m too good in bed and it was starting to become too much for her.”

Sam pauses the game just to join Steve in looking at Bucky skeptically.

He just rolls his eyes. “No one dumped anyone. We both decided we’re better as friends.”

“S’usually a lie when people say that,” Steve remarks. He sticks his tongue out when Bucky narrows his eyes in offense.

“It isn’t this time.”

Sam, wearing a sly smile as he turns his attention back to the game, asks the next question: “Were there tears?”

“She was stone cold.” Grinning as he holds his bottle of beer to his lips, he adds jokingly, “I cried like a baby, though.”

Sam hums. “Not surprised. You fuckin’ sobbed at Inside Out.”

“Oh, so you didn’t cry when Bing Bong said ‘Take her to the moon for me’?” Bucky cocks an eyebrow. “What, are you a fuckin’ monster, Wilson?”

The grinding of Steve’s teeth is almost audible, his irritation painfully evident when he tosses the cushion aside.

Yet he still straightens it to make sure the elephant is sitting up straight, trunk pointed to the ceiling.

“I’m being serious, Buck. Living with an ex... It’s touchy and awkward. How are you gonna feel when she’s got some guy over?”

“The same way she’ll feel when I’ve got some girl over,” the answer is said with ease. “Hell, I’ll give her a condom if she needs one.”

“And your feelings just turned themselves off?”

His shrug is a bit reluctant, the smile he offers Steve hesitant. “Hers did.”

—

Hours pass before it’s just you and Bucky in the apartment.

Natasha and Wanda leave first to get enough sleep before their eight-AM class, and Steve only manages to coax Sam off the couch once he has watched the game highlights and coverage twice over. You think you might scream if you ever hear the SportsCenter theme again.

Leaning against the door after it shuts behind Steve and Sam, you offer Bucky a sleepy smile as he rummages through the refrigerator. Judging by his sour expression, there’s nothing good to eat. “That was easier than I thought.”

“Yeah, I’m real glad I read that ‘Telling the Children about the Divorce’ article for it.” He slams the fridge shut. There is desperation in his voice when he asks, “Are you hungry, too?”

Dish rag tossed in his direction, you flip the faucet on to wet each glass. “When am I not hungry, Bucky?”

“Are you more willing to pay for pizza or Thai?”

“S’too late for Thai.” You set a washed glass atop the counter and get started on soaping up the next one. “We’ll get Thai when it’s your turn to pay.”

Three glasses sit on the counter before Bucky sets his phone down and begins drying them. He peers over at you with attempted tact.

But, to his dismay, you smile and meet his blue eyes with a playful glare. “What?”

“Steve’s dead-set on me moving out.”

Your frown is immediate. You stop scrubbing the popcorn bowl for a moment. “Do you want to move out?”

His reply is instant. He stops drying a glass for a moment. “No. Do you want me to move out?”

“No.” You resume scrubbing. “I can’t live here with anyone else.”

Chewing on the inside of his cheek to avoid a grin, Bucky nods. He decides to change the subject and bumps his hip against yours. “Sam thought we were gonna tell everyone we got engaged.”

Startled laughter and you hand Bucky the washed bowl, switching the tap off and leaning your hip against the counter’s edge. “After, like, four months of dating? No wonder he looked so terrified.”

“Should’ve played it off that way just to see what they’d say,” he muses as you help him put the dishes away. “Tasha would’ve hosted an intervention for you.”

You hum in agreement. “Steve would’ve definitely called your mother.”

“Would Wanda faint or is that too dramatic?”

“She was ready to faint when I told her we had sex on the couch.”

Eyebrows raised, he watches as you walk to the living room and fall into that exact couch with exaggerated relief. “You told her that?”

Another hum. “Nat almost threw up.”

“At the thought of us having sex in our own home?” he snorts, adding in a deadpan tone, “Oh, the horror.”

Bucky collapses onto the couch beside you and smiles when you drop your head onto his shoulder. He toys with the stray pieces of confetti littered over the cushions. “Went all the way to Target for the more expensive poppers and they had even less confetti than the Party City ones.”

“Just because something costs more doesn’t mean it’s better.”

He gasps playfully. “We have a genius in our midst. Someone please embroider everything she says onto pillows.”

“Yeah and I’ll use those pillows to smother you in your sleep.” You lift your head and set your chin on his shoulder instead. You try to glare, but his smile is contagious. “I know where you live, Barnes.”

“You won’t for long if Steve has it his way.”

“If the world operated according to Steve’s wishes, we’d all be required, by law, to eat Pop-Tarts for breakfast and wear shirts two sizes too small.”

CHAPTER 2: FINDING YOUR INDEPENDENCE

#bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes college au #a8c

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chocoholicannanymous · 3 years

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...As Stupid Does (Teen Wolf) 19/19

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything – except for a red hoodie...

This is the final part of this story, and this ‘verse. A bit bittersweet, but honestly? So much relief too. Because as much as I never wanted to abandon this story I was worried that I’d never pull together the focus and energy to connect scattered paragraphs and thoughts into a complete ending.

Here it is though. I hope those of you reading this enjoy it.

Part 18, Part 17, Part 16, Part 15, Part 14, Part 13, Part 12, Part 11, Part 10, Interlude, Part 9, Part 8d, Part 8c, Part 8b, Part 8a, Part 7, Part 6, Part 5,Part 4,Part 3, Part 2, Part 1,Not Stupid, Stupid Is… and pre-verse ficlet I’m Stupid (Don’t Worry ‘Bout Me)…

Epilogue

Here's the thing: Stiles is a lucky guy. He's smart enough to realize exactly how lucky.

He's three years through a four year college degree, with a job waiting for him after graduation. His relationship with his dad is stronger than ever. He's got a home also waiting for him, one that's surrounded by two packs full of 'wolves.

He's also got Derek.

And the thing is, he and Derek? They're good together. Like really, really, almost disgustingly good. They weren't back in Beacon Hills. They kind of weren't when they decided to try again, for real this time.

They had spent their first year together fucking up, and god, the amount of times Stiles had questioned not just his sanity in doing this but also his intelligence. But during that year they also started working together, begun healing old hurts and smoothing down their rough edges, and found a way to fit together.

Once that year was over they'd sat down and talked things through.

Okay, they'd screamed some too, and once Stiles had even walked out. But the important thing is that he'd done so in a mature way. He'd told Derek that he was walking out, why he was doing so and that he was coming back once he'd cooled off. And then he'd kept his word.

And they'd done it on their own. No prompting, no mediating, no one coming in to send them to separate corners or patch them up. Stiles is still hella proud of that.

It's been three years now, and as far as Stiles is concerned he's got an amazing boyfriend that he fully expects to spend the rest of his life with.

If anyone had told him this years ago, when Scott had just been bitten and they were scrambling to keep their heads above water – at one point literally – Stiles would not have believed it. At one point he'd have taken violently offense, even without being told said boyfriend would be Derek.

Things have changed. He has changed. Derek has changed. But most importantly? They've changed together.

These days Derek has enough of a handle on himself to not need magic or therapy to make it through a visit. He's still seeing Dr Bianchi occasionally, as is Stiles, but they're both down to a handful of times per year.

And it's not just when it comes to the two of them that Derek has improved. Stiles gets regular reports from Scott, and it's obvious that Derek's a good Alpha these days. Sure, he will only stay an Alpha for a little while longer before handing it over to Cora, but that doesn't diminish his accomplishment. Everyone in a pack benefits from a good, steady Alpha.

Just like Cora benefits from a brother who is all these things.

Yeah, life is good.

The only dark cloud on Stiles's horizon is that he's going to have to go back to Beacon Hills.

Returning to Beacon Hills is, yeah okay, it's not the last thing Stiles wants to do. Reliving the Alpha pack, the kanima, Kate, Allison, Gerard, Peter (though that one's a firm “against” on returning too), reliving his mother's death, living through his dad's death, killing someone, almost killing someone, losing his pack, losing Embry... There are a lot of thing that Stiles wants even less.

But returning to Beacon Hills, even for a weekend, does come very low on the list. Distance has not made Stiles' heart fonder. Returning sadly isn't exactly optional.

Sure, no one's forcing him, but that doesn't mean staying away is an alternative. Not this time. Because Scott is getting married. Scott, who's still only 21 for another couple of weeks, and who used to think that werewolves were the worst (or second worst depending on how angry he was with Derek that day), who believed that he didn't need an Alpha and that Allison had hung the moon, is getting married to a werewolf, one that's not only Derek's sister, but also his soon-to-be Alpha.

And of course said wedding has to take place in Beacon Hills.

Now, Stiles has done his best to talk Scott into eloping, has tried since Scott called him with the news that Cora had said yes, but. Apparently Scott can't see the brilliance in eloping, not even with Stiles's excellent arguments.

“You, me, your mom, abuela Delgado, Derek and Cora. Just the family. No douche pack.”

“What about Peter?”

Seriously? The last thing Stiles had expected to need to justify is why leaving Peter out of, well, everything is a good idea.

“No uncle psycho either. He doesn't qualify as family.”

There's a sound that Stiles knows from years of being Scott's friend means he's nodding in agreement.

“Okay, true. What about dad though?”

“Oh, you know, I figured he'd be my plus one.” That came out flippantly, because he knows there's no way Scott wouldn't invite his dad regardless.

“No, Stiles, what about my dad?”

“He doesn't qualify as family either.”

The words come out before Stiles can filter himself, and he kind of wishes he could take them back, except...

“Look, can I be brutal here? I mean, we both know I'm going to be honest so... When's the last time you saw agent McCall?”

“There was a thing junior year, he came here to investigate.”

Not what he was asking, but a very telling answer.

“Okay, and when's the last time you saw him in his capacity as your dad? Hell, when's the last time you spoke to him? Does he even know about Cora?”

Scott evades the questions, which again: telling.

“He's my dad though, doesn't that kind of mean I have to invite him?”

Stiles snorts. As if.

“I don't see why. Sure, he's 50 % of your genepool, but is he really your dad? I mean, I can't remember the last time he and you shared anything other than your last name, and we both know that's not going to be true for much longer.”

“Yeah, okay, you have a point. He's not getting an invite. That doesn't mean we're eloping though, Stiles. Cora deserves a proper wedding, and I'm going to give her that. Now, you convince her that eloping's a good idea and we can talk about it again, but I'm not risking making her mad at me just because you don't want to subject yourself to Isaac. At least Jackson won't be invited?”

“Small favors, man. Small favors.”

There's another one of Scott's agreement noises before the conversation had moved on.

Of course, Cora had been an even tougher nut to crack than Scott, and Stiles had retreated ungracefully once she'd started threatening his balls.

Really, there was no need to go there. If for no other reason, well, shouldn't she leave the goods intact for Derek's sake?

Of course, Stiles can understand why she's unwilling to let go of the only Hale tradition she still can have, namely getting married in the preserve and in the presence of pack. Every Hale has done so for over 200 years, before they were even called Hale.

(Stiles listens to Derek explain, haltingly, and decides to admit defeat. At least Derek's willing to bypass that tradition, should they one day decide to marry. He'll take that win and stop pestering Cora.)

So, anyway. There's no talking the lovely couple into eloping. Which means like it or not – and trust him, it's not – Stiles is going back. Because it's Scott.

There's also the fact that in a strange way Stiles has waited for this wedding as long as Scott has. When he and Derek had gotten back together the plan had been for Cora to graduate, then take over the Alpha spark and the pack. Two years had felt long, but doable.

And then Cora had asked for more time.

She'd gone straight from school to working at the Beacon Hills sheriff's department and had felt she needed to adjust a little better to that before taking on something new. It'd been reasonable, and more importantly: Derek had been almost unable to deny his sister anything after getting her back from the dead (except you know, figuratively speaking, unlike a certain other family member).

So they'd talked it over and agreed to give Cora another year, moving the transfer to after the wedding. It makes, Stiles thinks, for one hell of a wedding present. If that's good or bad, eh. Who knows.

He'd taken on more classes in order to have a distraction, had worked himself to the point of exhaustion more than once, and nearly driven the people around him crazy. It'd been more than a little overkill, he admits now, but it had kept him from missing Derek too much. It also means he'll be able to slow down a little his final year.

Or take on whatever shiny but totally unnecessary new class catches his eye, probably, but. He pretends he'll take it easy. Derek pretends to believe him. Derek's also made it clear he's going to move to Seattle once he can leave Beacon Hills, and stay there as long as Stiles does. They both pretend it's not partially to keep Stiles from studying himself into the hospital.

Anyway. He's just, you know, going to have to count small favors. The first one being that Jackson really isn't invited. The second is that Lydia, who was, isn't coming either. Once Stiles had gotten over his crush on her he'd kept a measure of fond respect for the person he'd learned existed behind Lydia's facades, even though they'd never really become friends. That didn't change the fact that her not coming was a relief – she's too smart, sees too much, and he would hate for her to figure things out.

Another person not coming is Danny who's transferred his allegiance to the pack near his college where he's, completely coincidentally Stiles is sure, dating the Alpha's grandson. He'd been invited as a courtesy, but told he couldn't bring his boyfriend, and had wisely chosen not to accept. Cora hates him, and he apparently knows it, and Scott isn't to fond of him either.

Those really are small favors though.

A slightly bigger one is the fact that Deaton isn't coming. Not only does he no longer live in Beacon Hills, but he hasn't been invited. While no one had been able to prove that there had been magic on Scott, his opinions on both Derek and Deaton had changed a little too much for comfort after first moving away and then beginning to meditate. Even Scott had noticed, and gotten suspicious.

In the end there had been no protests from Scott as Derek and Cora had ended Deaton's lease of the land for his practice – land he had been granted use of as the Hale pack's emissary and then had kept using free of charge since the fire, knowing he wasn't keeping to the agreement. Once he'd been called on it, Deaton had packed up, sold his home, and moved away.

No one misses him – not even Scott.

However none of that changes the fact that Beacon Hills still has Peter Hale, who is most certainly both invited to the wedding and attending, and who Stiles still sees as a threat. Because, well, he's not stupid.

Peter Hale will stop being a threat the day he dies, and maybe not even then. (Next time, Stiles has promised himself, he's going to make sure Peter gets the Aiden treatment.)

And Stiles is going to willingly place himself within striking distance from said threat, without a protector on hand.

He hadn't even thought about it at first, just assuming he'd have Embry to keep him safe, but it hadn't taken long to realize that bringing Embry to Scott's wedding wasn't an option.

First of all there's the fact that while neither Derek or Cora can feel the supernatural in the LaPush 'wolves unless they're shifting Peter might. Peter, who's not only older and has had the kind of training Derek never got but who also has access to a lot of the Hale pack's lore which Derek had thought lost in the fire. Stiles isn't willing to take a chance on that knowledge not containing something to help Peter identify the LaPush shifters. (This is, incidentally, one of the reasons Stiles is happy Deaton is gone. He too knows too much for Stiles to trust he wouldn't be able identify another kind of shifter.)

Second there's the fact that every single pack member is visibly Native American, and there are only so many tribes. Peter – or Danny for that matter, even though he's not going to be present, but he's more of an annoyance – could locate Stiles far too easily easily with that kind of information.

There's also the fact that Embry would be on a hair trigger simply because Stiles will be, and might shift and expose them.

Most importantly though is that bringing what would look like a plus one to Cora's wedding would be an insult. Not just to her, who's only just gotten to the point where she accepts that Stiles is in her brother's life for good, but also to Derek. Yes, everyone who matters knows that Embry's relationship with Stiles is as platonic as can be, but that doesn't change anything. They smell enough like each other for wolfy noses to know they're not casual acquaintances, and chances are there would be quite a bit of ribbing and speculation. Derek shouldn't have to listen to that, or for that matter look at Stiles walking around with another man when he himself has to hide what they are to each other. Desire for protection or not, Stiles just isn't willing to do that to Derek.

It's possible that Embry could have skated by as the son of John Stilinski's fiancée – and wow, Stiles still hasn't gotten used to referring to Tiffany Call that way (and damn, does that make him glad that he and Embry are platonic, because that's a little to incestuous even as is). Scott would have been okay with both of them coming, had even brought it up, but everyone involved is aware that it'd make Melissa feel uncomfortable. Regardless, Tiffany's not coming either. Like with Embry there's no way of hiding that she's native, making her too easily identifiable. There's also the fact that it just isn't safe.

Tiffany is many things, and a stronger woman than most, but she's not a fighter. If things go wrong she would be vulnerable, and a liability.

Bringing someone other than Embry means the same risk of discovery.

So instead of a werewolf bodyguard or ten Stiles has his dad.

Yeah.

There's also the fact that in the interest of keeping secrets Stiles can't even use the silver lining of more time with Derek. Letting anyone from that pack know of their connection is bad, but the thought of letting Peter know makes Stiles's blood run cold. That means he's going to be within minutes of his boyfriend for days, and yet he's not going to get hugs, or kisses, or a bedpartner. He's going to be at a wedding along with his romantic partner, while pretending he's single.

Yeah.

It's going to suck.

O--o---o--O

The wedding is missing a lot of traditional parts. It's understandable, really, and not just because both bride and groom along with several guests are werewolves. It's just... Cora doesn't have a father to give her away, or dance with her. She doesn't have a mother to support her, an inherited dress or heirloom jewelry. She doesn't have a best friend to be her maid of honor. What she's got is a brother whose Alpha she'll be within days and an uncle that she doesn't trust as far as she can throw him. Or well, as far as Stiles could throw him.

So they adjust.

No one gives Cora away. Instead she and Scott walk up the isle – isle, forest path, same thing – together. Neither of them have attendants, and Melissa McCall's wedding dress stays in its garment bag.

The wedding is small and intimate, with only a handful of guests outside of the pack – Stiles, John, Melissa, abuela Delgado and two 'wolves from Cora's South American pack. It takes place in a glade just on the edge of the preserve and the only decorations are wild flowers and boughs of leaves.

It's scaled-down, but also beautiful in its simplicity, because no one can doubt that these are two people who love each other deeply.

Stiles has to blink away tears at more than one time. His friend, his brother, is promising to love, cherish and honor his girl, and is being promised the same in return. There's not a doubt in Stiles's mind that when they swear to do so until death do them part they mean it. This, he knows, is Scott's life now. It's the life and future he deserves. It's enough to make Stiles's heart swell with love.

And then it hits him. With a little luck that'll be him in a not too distant future. He has to look away not to betray himself by staring lovingly at Derek.

Stiles walks through the door to the cabin he's sharing with his dad. He's tired, both because of emotion and vigilance. His dad's still back at the wedding, catching up with Melissa, but Stiles doesn't have the energy. He's spent the day keeping one eye on the pack, and Peter in particular, and generally hating that he's back in Beacon Hills while loving that he's able to be here for Scott.

It's been exhausting.

Just about everyone else is still celebrating, but once Scott and Cora had left to change clothes and go on their honeymoon Stiles had left too. Pretending that he doesn't want to kill Peter, or kiss Derek, has taken it out of him and he can't do it any longer. He's going back home tomorrow and he can't spend another minute being that close to Derek without being able to be with him. That it'll be at least a month, probably two or more, before he can see Derek again is making it even harder.

As far as everyone but him and Derek knows Scott and Cora are going on an actual honeymoon, for a whole month. The truth is that they'll be gone for a week before sneaking back. The rest of the time will be spent in recovery and training after Derek transfers the Alpha spark. Cora will come back as the new Hale Alpha, but that doesn't mean Derek will be free to leave.

There will be unrest in a pack with a new Alpha, even under the best of circumstances, and these – as so often for them – are not. Cora will need Derek by her side, to support her and calm the pack. Maybe she'll also need him to help take down threats thinking to take advantage of a novice Alpha. Maybe they'll have to deal with Peter...

It'll be a little while yet before Derek will be free of Beacon Hills.

So Stiles is sad, and he's got a headache and he just wants to take some pills, text Embry some and then sleep.

After he's re-ringed the cabin with mountain ash of course.

Stiles pulls his phone out of its pocket, takes off his jacket and goes to throw it at the chair before thinking twice. It's a decent suit jacket and if he treats it right he won't need to go suit shopping again in years. Coat hanger it is.

He turn towards the clothes rack, his brain three steps ahead, and hits a wall, his phone clattering to the floor.

Only there's no wall there.

He scrambles backwards, trying to put as much space as he can between himself and the threat and swears. The door is out of reach and he's trapped.

“Hello Stiles.”

Fuck.

“Peter.”

He flicks through scenarios in his head, trying to figure out how to get out of this, but he keeps running into mental walls.

Stiles is a lot better trained than when he left Beacon Hills, in ways Peter knows nothing about. Under the right circumstances he might have a chance.

These are not.

He's in close quarters with Peter, unable to reach the door before the 'wolf can get to him. He's mostly unarmed due to being dressed for a wedding, and what he does have isn't as easily accessible as he'd like.

Plus it's Peter.

Stiles is going to assume that everything he thinks he knows about Peter's skills and strength is wrong. To do anything else would be to sign his own death warrant. Derek might be clouded by memories of “uncle Peter”, but Stiles has never forgotten the psychopathic killer he'd first encountered.

No, training or no training, Stiles's one real advantage is having a pack, and what being part of it means. Unfortunately he has no idea if it'll be enough.

“Shouldn't you be with the pack, or, I don't know, in your own home? Not breaking and entering somewhere you're definitely not welcome.”

“Oh, but it's not breaking and entering if you have a key.” Which, fuck, did Peter kill someone to get his hands on a backup key? “Besides, I didn't get a chance to talk to you earlier. It's been so long, Stiles, won't you humor me? We're practically old friends, are we not? It'll be like old times.”

“You're crazy.”

“Now now Stiles. That's not very nice of you.”

Stiles snorts, because nice? Not really in his wheelhouse.

“You think I care? When it comes to you? Come now, I said crazy, not stupid.”

Because unfortunately Peter is anything but, making him even more dangerous. Still, the wolf just smirks a little at Stiles's defiance.

“I'm afraid that answer just isn't acceptable. See, I really do need to talk to you. Or well, I need you. I'd like it if you talked to me, but I'll manage either way. You however... You really would do well to humor me.”

Then Peter looks at him, and oh shit. His eyes are flashing back and forth between the electric blue that had looked so good on Derek and a sickly red.

It takes nothing to figure it out.

Peter had called him the clever one, and meant it in a mocking way. But the reality is that Stiles is clever, and knows how to put puzzle pieces together.

And these particular puzzle pieces... Peter came back to life using not only Lydia but also Derek – had drained Derek of life and strength and power, and had tried to steal the Alpha power too.

And afterwards Derek had changed. Had grown more volatile, more likely to hurt someone – more unstable.

Stiles is willing to bet Peter had had a bit more success than they'd realized, that he'd managed to siphon off some of the Alpha power and keep it.

That would explain why Derek had acted the way he had. Why he'd been so easily influenced by the pack's negativity. Why Derek had sometimes acted more like Peter than like himself.

It would definitely explain how the Alpha power had become this unstable, negative force in Derek that he felt was fighting him. He is sharing it with Peter. And apparently Peter is done sharing. Stiles is uncomfortably aware of exactly how little defense he has to put up in regards to a Peter who is no longer hiding his power, who is no longer playing weak and damaged.

The only reason he's still alive is so Peter can use him against Derek.

Because even holding a part of the Hale Alpha spark Peter isn't going to just challenge Derek for the rest of it, or meet him in a fair fight. It's not how he works. Peter doesn't believe in fair, and wants the odds as weighted in his favor as possible. Using Stiles as bait, or whatever, is a way of doing that. There's also the fact that Derek has been getting stronger and better as an Alpha, leaving Peter needing every advantage he could. Even an ambush might not give him the upper hand.

Well, Stiles is going to do what he can to even out the odds a bit.

It helps that he has no reason to believe Peter will let him go after killing Derek. He'll either be dead too, or bitten without concern for his wishes, and forced to obey Peter. His dad will probably be used against him – or, again, killed outright.

Not fighting won't save him – it'll only make it easier for Peter.

“You kept some of the Alpha spark after using Derek to come back to life.”

“Ah. You really are clever. Too bad you've always wasted that cleverness on my failure of a beta and my useless nephew. Yes, I kept some. It should have been mine altogether, but something went wrong.

“Doesn't matter though, because I'm getting it back. I'm getting it all back tonight.”

Stiles stiffens. That sounds really not good.

“I was willing to be patient. To wait for it. Derek isn't made to be Alpha, and I've always known that sooner or later he'd get himself killed, especially the way kept attracting hunters. I could wait. After all, I had enough power to get through most. Especially after getting a little boost.”

That's what happened to miss Blake, Stiles thinks. He doesn't say anything though. It's not time to upset the balance. Not yet.

“It was possible one of the others would have had enough and killed him, but chances were the Alpha spark would have gone to me either way. If not,” Peter shrugs, “a new Alpha, who doesn't know how to deal with the change in their senses? Easy to kill.”

Stiles can see it happen just like that too, unfortunately.

“Everything was going according to plan too, with Derek growing more and more unstable. Given a little more time I might even have been able to talk him into giving up the spark voluntarily.” Like hell he would have. “And then my dear, dear niece came back to life.”

There's something in Peter's voice with couple with the moue he makes that gives Stiles another flash of insight.

“You resent Cora for being alive. You resent her for surviving the fire.”

Peter almost slips into a roar.

“She abandoned me!”

“She was a child! I know you were trained to hide from hunters, to go to ground and stay there until the threat was over. Are you blaming her for doing what she's been told?”

“You go to ground, yes. And then you come back. You don't abandon your pack.”

And wow, hearing that shit from the wolf who killed one niece, tried to kill a nephew, and had just explained how he had been waiting to try again... Yeah, Peter Hale is a hypocrite on top of being fucking insane.

“She abandoned us, and then when she comes crawling back,” which, totally not how it had actually happened, “that useless weakling wants to reward her for it by passing the Alpha spark to her. And they expect me to just take it?”

Fuck. The biggest flaw in the plan had always been the risk of Peter finding out and getting mad. There are contingency plans, sure, but none of them counted for quite this.

“I should have been Alpha after Talia. Laura was just as weak, just as unsuitable, as Derek. She didn't have it in her to take vengeance for our family – she just ran. It should have been me. It would have been me, had I not been burnt so badly.”

Peter's eyes are flickering between red and blue again, but the light in them has nothing to do with the 'wolf. It's insanity, and Stiles makes a quick judgment call.

He's never going to be able to outfight Peter. What he needs is to keep him of guard, while hoping for help to reach him. And as dangerous as it might be, the best way is to go after Peter's ego.

He's calm and collected in a way he rarely is as his brain starts listing sore points to hit.

He starts off by laughing, startling Peter out of his self-righteous rant.

“I might have to take back what I said about you not being stupid. You really think you should have been Alpha over Laura? Dude, you are delusional. You not becoming Alpha after the fire had nothing to do with you burning, and everything to do with the fact that you're a monster. Hell, the only way you had a shot at Alpha-hood was to steal it.

“Derek's fucked up plenty, yes, but even on his worst days he's better than you. He at least is sane.”

His words are working, Stiles can see it, and he continues to taunt the 'wolf.

“In fact, should Derek die today? You're not even in the running to become the next Alpha. It'll be Cora, or Scott if she's not an option either. Hell, even Isaac is a better candidate for Alpha than you and I really don't like that guy. No, you're going to have to kill the rest of your family and the new Hale pack along with them to even have a shot.

“Fuck, if I was that Alpha spark? I'd leave the Hale line – hell, existence even – completely over settling in you. You're simply too corrupt.

“You speak of Derek and Laura not being worthy of the Alpha spark. The truth is that you're the one that's unworthy. The world truly will be a better place once you're dead.”

Peter's eyes flicker back and forth and Stiles is actually kind of surprised he's not already dead. Maybe Peter still thinks he can get something out of keeping him alive.

“Brave words, Stiles, but that's all they are. Words. You don't understand what it's like to be a werewolf, what it means to be in a pack. But I'll make sure you do. Before the sun rises I'll be the Alpha, and like it or not you're going to help me. And as a reward I'll give you what you wanted but were afraid to say yes to all those years ago.

“Once my useless nephew is out of the picture you'll be my beta. Part of my pack. And you'll be good to me, won't you Stiles? After all, you have...experience in being good to your Alpha, don't you?” Peter's voice is silky-sweet around the words, and Stiles shudders with disgust.

What Peter is hinting at is never going to happen, not even if Stiles has to kill himself to make sure it doesn't. Yes, he's made some pretty harsh statements about what was between him and Derek, but not even at the lowest point did that make him feel as dirty as Peter's mere words are doing now.

At the same time Stiles is willing to put money on the fact that Peter doesn't really mean what he's saying. Oh, he might follow through, especially if he leaves Derek alive, but this isn't about any kind of want or desire. This is about scaring Stiles, about rattling him, about making him beg.

He's not going to do that.

“Fuck no.”

“Tsk, tsk. You'll sing a different tune once you're in my pack.”

Stiles laughs again, short and sharp, putting as much mockery as he can muster in it.

“Your pack? You don't have a pack. You'll never have a pack. All you've got, Peter, is two people who shares blood with you and who pity you too much to put you down like the animal you are.

“Really, where's an Argent when you need them?”

That does it. Peter's claws pop, his teeth lengthen and his eyes shine like lasers. Only one of them will walk away from this, and Stiles has finally managed to tip the scales enough that it just might be him. Of course, even almost out of his mind with rage Peter does have some control – he hasn't howled, for instance, keeping it in as to not warn anyone. Stiles's chance is tiny, and it mostly depends on outside factors, but unlike five minutes ago it exists.

Now he just has to be right about a number of factors.

Luckily he is.

The window breaks, glass splintering and flying across the cabin. Peter jerks back as a big furry shape follows and Stiles hurries to to put his back against a corner. Chances are that Peter will win this fight so he's not safe yet, but he's certainly safer than he was a minute ago.

No one had been happy with Stiles going back without Embry. Hell, Stiles hadn't been happy about it. Had it been an option he would have brought the entire pack with him – preferably both even. Jake'd been on the verge of laying down an Alpha order about Stiles and John not going on their own for weeks, the only thing stopping him being the safety of LaPush. Instead he had had to stop basically the entire pack from sneaking off to follow them, same for Sam.

The compromise had been one 'wolf. There had been a fight over who got to go, and even Leah – who still think Stiles is being an idiot – had wanted to go. Of course, Leah is also finally pregnant and no one wants to put her and the baby at risk. (Plus, she's not feeling that great. The phrase “sick as a dog” takes on a new light when you've seen a horse sized shape shifter with violent morning sickness, Stiles decided after seeing Leah sick up to the point where she phased out of her wolf form and fainted. Yuck.)

Embry still hadn't been allowed to go, and Stiles knows why, knows that Jake has a point in claiming Embry's bond to Stiles would cause him to be on edge and risk exposing them in more ways than one. That doesn't make it easier to deal with though.

Stiles wishes with all his being that it could have been Embry.

Instead it had been decided that Collin, as the most harmless looking one, should go and play hapless tourist. He had arrived in Beacon Hills a couple of days ago, and as far as Stiles knows no one's picked up on anything strange about him or his story.

Of course, with Collin being one of the youngest and least experienced 'wolves he's not the one Stiles would have wanted in a fight against Peter Hale.

All he really is is a distraction, but it does gives Stiles a chance. While Peter's attention is on the giant 'wolf Stiles slowly eases the hidden blade from his sleeve and then carefully rips open his cuff.

The mountain ash concealed in the cuff does as it's meant to and falls into his hand. Now he's got a chance.

Provided nothing has gone to hell in the last couple of hours there is at least one other 'wolf near, able to warn others. If it has and they're on their own, then there's always howling.

All Stiles needs to do is get up a barrier and they'll have some breathing room. He just needs some distance between Collin and Peter.

At first the giant 'wolf is causing Peter to be cautious, but it doesn't take long for the man to realize he's the strongest of them. The wolf shape is excellent for fighting and killing vampires, but less so when it comes to another type of werewolf.

Collin yips in pain and Peter strikes again. This time he lands a powerful blow that throws Collin across the cabin. He lands heavily, with a whine, and doesn't get up. Stiles swallows as he sees blood pooling out from the still body.

A 'wolf can heal just about anything, given time. Peter won't give them that though. He's already stalking across the floor with blood dripping from his claws and a sadistic smile on his face. He's fast enough that he could have crossed before Stiles knew what was happening. This slow walk is just a show, meant to intimidate Stiles.

Too bad it just gives him the time he needs.

“You've been keeping secrets. I'll enjoy dragging them out of you.”

It's a promise, meant to invoke, and it works. But Stiles has gotten used to pushing down his fear and working through it, and so he looks Peter straight in the eyes and quips.

“Didn't your Alpha teach you not to play with your prey?”

And then he throws the mountain ash.

He's practiced this very moment over and over until he doesn't need to walk the perimeter, or to have “enough” ash. All he needs is a little bit and his belief.

He's never believed anything this hard before.

“Mountain ash? Always the clever one, aren't you? But your little trick won't save you, or your friend there. You can only hold the barrier for so long, and I can be a very patient man.

“It would be wise of you not to test that patience though. Sooner or later your father will walk through that door, and I would hate to kill him just to prove a point.”

Like he'd let any of them live either way.

“Here's the thing, Peter. You would be wise to leave now. Who knows, run fast enough, far enough, and you might even live to regret your actions here tonight. Because Game of Thrones might be shit about a lot of things, but they're dead right about: 'the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives'. And you, Peter. You're all alone.”

“You think you're pack? You, my useless nephew's even more useless fucktoy? Don't make me laugh.

“Since you're apparently too stupid to realize, I've got you trapped in here. You've got no way to call for help,” and he steps on Stiles's phone, grinding it to components to make a point, “your supposed savior is out like a light, dying as we speak, and your mountain ash barrier is weakening by the minute.”

It's not. Stiles can feel that it's still just as strong, but it's a good tactic, trying to shake the belief holding it together.

“That poor fool is even more of an idiot than that useless beta of mine. He didn't even howl for help. Not that he would have gotten any, but he didn't even try. Pathetic.”

Stiles smirks. No, Collin hadn't howled. But with the LaPush pack mind he didn't need to, not being shifted.

“Peter? This is the 21st century. Proper 'wolves use cellphones just like the rest of us.

And then in a show of timing almost too good to be true Seth and Brady jumps through the broken window as Derek – followed by Cora – break through the door.

Stiles almost sobs with relief. Having Collin arrive had been such a help, but it hadn't really made him feel safe. Not when up against Peter Hale. The same goes for Brady. They're his friends, yes, but they're the most inexperienced of the 'wolves and they're Sam's. Seth is, well, he's not that much more experienced but he's pack. That matters.

It's not the fact that they're four against one that calms Stiles, or even that Derek is there – it's the presence of pack.

He still wishes Embry was with him, but now he dares to believe he'll see his 'wolf again.

Peter is actually looking stunned, faced with another two giant wolves. And is that a hint of fear Stiles sees? It could be. After all Peter has to realize that while Derek and Cora might be swayed to spare him out of sentimentality, these new and unknown wolves have no such compunctions. Stiles wonders if the crazed 'wolf sees his death in their arrival.

He hopes so.

The four circle Peter, cutting of all routes of escape. If he wants to leave he'll have to go through them, and that's not as easy as fighting Collin might lead Peter to believe. They don't attack though and Stiles can't help but think his 'wolves are holding back out of consideration for Derek, and to a lesser degree Cora.

Seth and Brady both know that Peter needs to die, but Derek has had a hard time reconciling with the fact that killing Peter had been necessary the first time. He hasn't even wanted to entertain the idea that it might be needed a second time, and might want to give Peter a chance to surrender.

Or it's just about waiting for the right moment. Regardless Stiles finds himself unable to watch what is about to come. Strange. He'd had no problem watching Peter die the first time, had thrown Molotov cocktails at him and watched Derek rip his throat out without regret. He has been certain Peter needs to die again since about 5 seconds after finding out he was back.

And yet he finds he can't watch.

As Peter lounges, desperately, towards Brady – either having identified him as the easiest target or unwilling to attack his remaining blood family – Stiles burrows his face into Collins fur and tries to shut it all out. They're safe behind the mountain ash barrier, and their friends will take care of Peter without them. They're safe, the barrier will hold, their friends will live, and Peter will die.

Stiles's world shrinks down to those four things, trying to will it into existence.

They're safe. The sound of a large body hitting the wall.

The barrier will hold. A grunt as claws strike flesh.

Their friends will survive. A high-pitched whine and the smell of blood.

Peter will die. A howl rises, then cuts out and is replaced by silence.

Derek and Cora are curled up together, shaking and crying and laughing all at once, both their eyes flashing between red and beta blue or gold. Stiles looks at them and feels a sting. Not jealousy, precisely, because he's got Seth, and Brady, and he's pretty sure Embry is a lot closer to Beacon Hills than Jake really likes, just...

Derek won't be coming back with him.

Stiles knew that already, knew that Cora would be vulnerable after the transfer of power, and that having Derek essentially break away straight after wasn't going to happen. They'd talked about it repeatedly and made their plans accordingly.

It's even more true now, with the added trauma of Peter's betrayal and death, causing her to lose a pack member already that day along with half of her remaining blood family.

For her to lose Derek on top of that... No. Stiles doesn't wish that on anyone. Cora needs to stabilize herself, find her balance again, and both siblings need to be allowed to grieve.

Again, it's no surprise that Derek will be staying in Beacon Hills for a while. It's just... It was abstract before. Now it's right there in his face, and Stiles realizes he wasn't prepared.

Looking at Derek and Cora he also realizes that regardless of what they've said, what they've promised, there's a possibility that Derek will change his mind now that the moment is here. It's possible that Beacon Hills without Peter will be tempting enough that Derek will start seeing it as his home again. It's possible that he will decide that staying with Cora, and the pack he started, is more important than being with Stiles.

If he does... It'll hurt. It'll even hurt like hell. But if it's one thing Stiles has learned it's this: he can live through that, can heal from it, because he won't be alone. Even if he doesn't have Derek he'll have Embry, and his pack.

But that's not how Stiles sees it happening. Not after everything they've been through to get to where they are.

Derek is going to grieve with his sister, and help her settle, and when he's ready he'll leave Beacon Hills, leave their own personal Hellmouth, and come back to Stiles.

Because that's where they're headed, full circle. When they're both ready things will be different. This time around it'll be Derek joining Stiles's pack. There will be no begging, no miscommunication, no posturing, no self-hatred and no Alpha crap. It'll just be Stiles and Derek, healed and happy and together, trying their very best to love each other and not do anything stupid.

It'll be great.

Stiles believes it with all that he has and is. And his belief? Is magic.

~ The End ~

#chocoholic fics #...asd #teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #twilight crossover #...as stupid does #in 2021 we finish our wips #stupid 'verse

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hangjie · 3 years

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@x-whyareyoureadingthis-x asked: congrats on 500 followers! I was wondering if I could ask for a match up for an aot and/or hq guy? my pronouns are she/her and I’m pan. I’m not really tall, just […]

I SHIP YOU WITH … CONNIE SPRINGER

CANON-VERSE

connie's way of showing his love is through his jokes and how he tease you all the time. he loved to joke around with you since he saw you as the ray of hope in his life. before you two got together, you only thought of each other as friends and nothing more. though, everyone, especially jean and sasha ( though sasha was always the leader ) would tease you both on how you two would end up together because of the "best friend trope. you and connie would only look at each other and laugh until both of your stomachs were hurting and crying tears of laughter. it was like this until the day connie's mother became a titan.

connie was traumatized, devastated, and deeply afraid. his entire family is gone and the only person left, his mom, was a titan. he thought that his family would be safe from the chaos of the titans but as he laid his eyes on the enormous eyes of his immobile mother, he felt his heart drop.

once you, connie, and the rest were settled in the utgard castle, connie was found sitting on the ground in the corner. his arms were wrapped around his legs, hugging them to his chest while his face was on top of his knees. your heart broke as you watched him since this was one of the rare times where connie wasn't his cheerful goofy usual self and you were determinded to bring that side of him back.

despite knowing that he needs his space, you approached his slouched figure and sat beside him, crossing your legs. the air was filled with the silence, neither of you saying a word to each other.

you glanced towards connie, placing a hand on his back. he tensed underneath your touch but he relaxes after a few seconds. his back started to shake as tears dripped to his knees. you wrapped your arm around him and leaned your head against his shoulder, rubbing his back as he continued to cry. he then wrapped his arms around you, crying on to your shoulder as you embraced him back, his tears dampening the fabric of your shirt but you didn't care. at this moment, you didn't care about anything besides him. not the titans, your friends, the other survey corps members, only connie springer, your best friend.

although no words were exchanged, connie understood that you were here for him. not only now but for the rest of your lives and he wanted you to be by his side forever and him with you, and you never wanted to have him like this ever again. that's when you both knew.

ever since that day, you two were inseparable and protected each other from everything (from eren) and despite the constant teasing from your peers, especially sasha and jean, you both didn't mind it since you knew that the feelings were mutual and believed that you don't need a public label.

connie would always praise you yet at the same time, tease you. due to the height difference, he would rest his elbow on either your head or shoulder and would say how cute you are. he would also say that you were the most beautiful girl in the world then would proceed to say that you're the love child of historia and armin or that the three of you are triplets. despite his jokes, he makes sure to never cross the boundaries. he makes sure that his jokes are light-hearted and would make you laugh since the last thing he would want is to upset you.

even after the both of you were "officially together," connie wouldn't treat you differently than before. though, he's more affectionate than before, you both still appear as best friends. behind closed doors, connie is softer but still chaotic as ever.

MODERN AU

connie is always the life of the party. your loved ones enjoy his company and everything with him is an experience. his energy and urge to find fun always makes dates unique and enjoyable since connie loves to explore things with you, so mostly your dates are outside the comfort of your homes.

when you both first met, connie was the one to approach you. sasha and jean (mostly jean though) dared him to talk to you since they noticed that he was staring at you (like a creep, as sasha would say). not willing to back down from a dare, he did so and he will admit that he doesn't regret it since it lead to where things are now.

connie only wants to have an adventure, enjoy and experience life with you.

I SHIP YOU WITH … KOUTAROU BOKUTO

bokuto is so in love with you. he loves you with his entire soul and being, and its obvious in his actions. at home, he doesn't let you do most of the chores since whenever something needs to be done, he does it before you can do it yourself. every morning, he would kiss you face all over and jump out of bed, proclaiming his love for you. once, he even tried to make you a meal since you were hungry and tired but it ended up as black as charcoal. he was so sad but you gave him a kiss on the cheek and told him that its the thought that counts.

he's like a puppy and an energetic ball of sunshine that only wants to spread his love to everyone, most especially you.

since bokuto found you, akaashi had time to breathe and you took over the role of taking care of him. because of your motherly nature, you were able to take care of dear koutarou and have fun with him in the process. sometimes, akaashi not only babysits bokuto but also you, especially if you were the one to suggest what to do.

bokuto would be so supportive of your endeavors. he would go with you to go running since he also needs the cardio for his volleyball, he would pick you up from your ballet classes, and sometimes, he would ask you if you could teach him some ballet moves. he is unafraid to show his support since you've also been supporting him on his volleyball journey, so he would take your hand and be with you while you seek the thrill of life. plus he would be the one to suggest different activities that both of you can try and to encourage you to continue.

life is never boring with bokuto and that's how you plan to it be until the end.

this took me some time to write since i was debating where to put the specific details HAHAHAHA. i'm so sorry that bokuto's part is so short HDJKSHFKL but i enjoyed writing his ( just a small fact but i was listening to taylor swift's crazier and fearless while writing bokuto's and it made me feel soft af ), nevertheless, i hope you enjoy it, my dear!

♡ MATCH UP GUIDELINES AND RULES

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dr-who-said-lgbtq-rights · 3 years

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it’s time for Random Morrowind Infodumping/Opinions Hours

1. Okay so at the end of one of the main quest sections you get this ring

It’s called Moon-and-Star and in the lore, no one except Nerevarine (the PC) can wear it bc they’ll die. In the actual game, however, the NPCs can totally equip it and survive. i also think it’s funny that this is like, a “super special ring” and all it gives you is “fortify personality 5pts”/”fortify speechcraft 5pts”

2. The Tribunal is like, so funny to me. There’s this cool goddess who ends up going mad and killing the quiet nerd god, and the third is just over in his temple thinking “hmm yes i will do nothing about the rising evil in the country”

3. if you can translate the Sermons of Vivec into layman’s terms please tell me what they say i can’t comprehend whatever language he speaks (also: y’all are finding the almsivi??? i can’t find it??? in any of them???)

4. I read some of the skill books for fun and they are actually p good. I am rather fond of “The Wraith’s Wedding Dowry” and “A Game at Dinner”

5. The Thieves’ Guild is the best guild. their leader is literally called “Gentleman Jim Stacey” and he gives you Robin-Hood-esque quests. you can get a bounty taken off your head for half price. and its like a big family??? i love the Thieves’ Guild

6. Okay so more abt lore. At the end of the quests given to you by Gentleman Jim Stacey, he’ll give you the Skeleton Key, right? Well, you can also get it by killing Jim. The way the lore makes up for this is by saying that it is unknown if the Key was taken from Jim after he was murdered or if it was handed to the next Master Thief (aka the PC). for some reason i think that’s really cool???

7. what’s with all these skybabies complaining that there’s no fast travel in morrowind? like,,, what do think the silt striders are for??? just to stand there and look cute????

8. It’s time for: Opinions on Cities

8a. Balmora: probably my fave town, it kinda feels like home, y’know? I like breaking into Hlaalo Manor, stealing Nalcarya’s diamonds, going to the South Wall Cornerclub... hmm, that all sounds kinda sus, oh well

8b. Vivec: it’s like, really big. i like it, but its too big. i hate going anywhere but the main floors. its so big

8c. Caldera: i actually like it here too? sure, i was ambushed by a cliff racer once, and i saw an alit/kagouti close to it once, but it’s small and nice. There’s a Mages’ Guild place where you can steal get a free master’s alchemy apparatus, and there’s a manor where everyone has zero alarm for some reason so you can just steal everything from them and be fine

8d. Seyda Neen: Also a small town with dangerous creatures nearby that i love. there’s a skill book in the lighthouse, and in a stump near the lighthouse there’s some gold and a cup that will sell for a bit. it’s also fun to steal from the census office and get rich off of that. also: fargoth’s ring quest slaps

8e. Ald’ruhn: i got caught stealing something there in a save i have since abandoned and i still avoid going there as much as possible

9. nothing gives me anxiety like hearing battle music or the scuffling of something in the wild. however nothing gives me adrenaline and dopamine like being able to defeat whatever is scuffling in the wild

10. fuck astrology which birthsign from morrowind is your fave (mine’s The Tower, it’s nice to have a lvl 50 unlock spell when you’ve got the hands of a thief)

all of my info comes from uesp, where i have spent many hours going down a rabbit hole of knowledge

#morrowind #dr-who-said... something #i like this game too much halp #i may do a part 2. thats how much help i need

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cooler-than-red · 3 years

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"Hey, Theodora," a voice came from the street behind Tate. She jumped and quickly swiped the tears out her eyes, turning around with an unreadable grin.

"Don't call me that, JB." She shouldered her bag and sidled down the walkway towards the Pogues. "You know you're the only one who does."

"My dad used to," John B said with a smile. "Hey, are you okay?" His eyes flicked up to the house, and at that very moment, the living room television came smashing through the window into the yard.

Tate swore under her breath, but turned to the Pogues with a half amused smile. "'Course I am, she does this all the time." Then, addressing all four friends, "Hey guys."

They all greeted her vaguely, eyes still trained on the run-down house. Tate had grown up around the Pogues, but she'd never been a part of them. With Big John Routledge as her favorite uncle, she'd always been closest with John B, but she knew the others in various ways. Despite this, she'd never had much interest in putting herself into one of the groups on the island, whether it be Kooks, Pogues, or anyone else.

"Did she kick you out?" Kiara asked softly. Tate and Kiara weren't close, but Tate had been working at Kiara's dad's restaurant, The Wreck, since she was thirteen. She was Mike Carrera's most valued employee besides, of course, his own daughter.

"Yeah," said Tate, "so we should probably get out of here before she throws any more furniture." They started walking down the street, deeper into the bad section of town.

"Where are you gonna go?" said Pope, still looking back at the house.

Tate shrugged. "My dad's, I guess. I flip-flop all the time- when one kicks me out, I crawl back to the other."

JJ was the only one to laugh at this. Tate had known JJ since before kindergarten because they used to live next-door to one another. When Tate's parents divorced, both of them bought new houses on opposite sides of the island. Her mother had gotten a beat-up bungalow, and her dad a glorified trailer. JJ and Tate had had a silent understanding of one another's situations since before either of them could remember.

"No, no," John B said, jogging to catch up with her and turning to face her, walking backwards. "Just come and stay with me, I've got an extra room and-" Tate was already shaking her head.

"Ummm no," she said, chuckling.

"Why not?"

"You know I don't slum it with Pogues," she laughed, nudging him with her shoulder.

"You mean Pogues don't slum it with you," JJ called from the back.

Tate helped the boys get the boat to the water's edge, but then turned and started back towards the house.

"Where are you going?" JJ called.

She turned to face them. "Told you I'd be out of here in the morning. I gotta try and figure out my whole... situation. With my mom, you know?"

JJ jumped off of the boat and jogged to catch up with her. "You should come fish with us, it'll take your mind off of things, I promise." He looked at her hopefully.

"That's not what I'm trying to do," she said with a dry smile. "I gotta figure this out first. I'll catch you guys later." She turned to walk away again, but JJ cut her off before she got to the house.

"Come on, it'll be fun. Just take the day off," he pointed inland. "You know everything's gonna be a mess over there, it'll be hard to get to your place by land anyways."

Tate crossed her arms and her mouth twitched a little. "What happened to Pogues not slumming it with me?"

JJ seemed to think for a second, and then shrugged. "We can make an exception," he said, tilting his head and giving her an irresistible grin. "Just this once, for hurricane day."

Tate hesitated for a second, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet and chewing on the inside of her cheek. Finally, she relented. "Fine, just let me get changed real quick."

"She's hangin' with us today," JJ explained, sitting down next to Tate and kicking his feet back, his shoulder grazing hers. "Honorary Pogue."

"Mmmmm," Tate said with a grudging note to her voice. "Just for the day."

"Just for the day," JJ agreed, somewhat hesitantly.

"Cool," said Pope, as they neared Kiara's dock. She was already waiting for them with a cooler in hand.

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stardancerluv · 4 years

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Reflections

Part 8c

Summary: meeting friends...

He parked the car and turned towards you. You were such a delight to his eyes. “Here we are. Now, I want to you to remember.”

“Yes,” Tucking, some hair behind your ear you unbuckled the seat belt.

“You’re my girl.”

“I like the idea of being your girl.”

He smiled. “I do too. It’s shame its taken this long for you to meet them.” He moved his head from side to side. “But alas, life indeed gets the way sometimes. So be yourself and my friends will adore you.”

“Alright.”

******

As it had turned out, you were having quite the lovely time. There had only been a few moments where there was a touch of a language barrier but for the most part the night was lovely. If only your flatmates were as neat as his friends.

When, there was a pause in the conversation, you took his glass and had a sip of his whiskey. Your face immediately scrunched and you gasped. How did he drink that stuff.

You smiled as you felt his lips, press against your jaw. “Little dove, I enjoy it very strong. Might not be good for your tummy.” He whispered, his breath warm.

Demurely, you turned smiling. “Now I know. I’ll stick to my drinks from now on.” You squeezed, his thigh under the table.

Very politely, you decided to excuse yourself from the table and freshen up a bit. His whiskey had made you feel incredibly flushed.

You felt worlds better after splashing some cold water on your face. Quickly you dabbed your face dry. You were about to head back to the table, when hushed voices stopped you and you lingered in the corner.

“Jerome’s sugar daddy is due to arrive.”

“Do you think she knows?” Some giggling.

“Well, she will now.” More giggles.

“That man is so possessive of Jerome.”

More giggling, “Remember the trip to the hot springs, he crashed? He would not stop staring at Jerome’s smooth skin.”

“Ugh,” the one voice made a disgusted voice. “He didn’t get the hint with Nagiko. Maybe he will with her. She is awfully sweet.”

“Sweet and naive, and very American.”

“She is that. But at least Jerome’s seems terribly happy with her.”

“That is nice, he deserves to be happy. That Nagiko was a beast to him.”

“Oh, she was! I hated her so much.”

“Me too, oh no look who showed up?”

You peaked around the corner, where you were. You watched as an old man approached the table. Everyone, seemed terribly polite. He made a point of going, right to Jerome who stood like the others. He greeted Jerome with a kiss on the cheek while everyone got a flick from his hand.

You were feeling jumbled. Was he really Jerome’s sugar daddy. Slowly, you began to feel deflated. Jerome, had told you he was his publisher, did that being a sugar baby. You just didn’t know. Why couldn’t he just level with you. Did he think you were that fragile or was he that embarrassed. Or could it possibly be that he didn’t think you were not important enough.

At least they all seemed to like you. Not sure how you felt now, on legs that felt they could give out at any moment, you went back to the table.

Jerome’s arm immediately wrapped around your waist and he pulled you to him. “Welcome back, little dove.” He said in a soft voice, you grimaced. “You came back at the perfect time, my publisher is here.”

You, turned to the older man who eyes narrowed. There was a small smile. You offered and then took back your hand. “How nice to meet you.”

You could not help but notice the two who referred to the older man as Jerome’s sugar daddy shared a look. Taking, your own glass this time you finished your own drink.

“Let me get you another drink little dove.” Jerome, practically leapt up.

“Ok, thank you.”

You watched as he walked away, after a few breathes so the his publisher.

One of his friends leaned over. “Don’t mind him he is very cold and rude.” The friend looked at the other friend. “We think he old came to meet you. Jerome does nothing but speak very highly of you.” They gave you a warm smile.

“That is good to know.” You shrugged. “I know some do not like to shake hands.”

“There isn’t much he likes.”

In your head you could hear as that friend mentioned how the old man did like Jerome’s bare skin. Your stomach churned further.

You would be strong despite how you felt. You wanted to run, you wanted to cry. There is the thought, that he had been working to make you strong but did that really mean anything in the end, if he didn’t talk to you.

You remembered how earlier the two of you had been giggling and slathering each other with paint. How at one point, you even threw some of it. Silliness had ensued. Then you remembered how he had made you feel in the car. Doubt, clawed at you. Why couldn’t he had let you make him feel good too, you wondered.

Looking over to Jerome, you watched as the man grabbed his arm. You swallowed the tears, that had threaten to spill. They had said you made him happy but really did you? On what level? Did he just find you as something, he could fix? With your stomach still churning, you needed air you needed more. You really didn’t know what you needed but air would be perfect.

“Excuse me.” You said sweetly. “I forgot something in Jerome’s car.” You didn’t want any attention drawn to your actions.

*****

He felt terribly constricted. Sitting, next to you remembering what he had done to you. He craved more. Why had he stopped you. Glancing down at those damn smooth thighs. He bit his bottom lip.

The only relief, he could muster was that his friends seemed to like you. There was that.

As he watched you walk away, his urge his desire came back again. He took a hearty sipof his whiskey, hoping it would slice away at his desire. It didn’t, he could taste it.

Now, he was here. Inwardly, he groaned. Standing, he made nice and let him kiss him on the cheek. He could make it, he could get through all those books.

As you came back to the table, you were such a delight to have close by again. He had to feel you. Wrapping, an arm around you he felt a little better.

He gritted his teeth, watching as he snubbed you. Couldn’t he at least be polite. Looking, you he wished he knew what you were thinking. Seeing, you finish your drink he had to move. Images, of what you had done the night previously floated to his mind’s eye. The feel of your lips, your tongue. Damn it, he grabbed your glass.

“Let me get you another drink little dove.” He leapt up.

*****

“Where is she?” When he returned the table you were not there.

“She said, she forgot something in your car.”

“Oh, well I have the keys. My silly little dove.”

Going out, he easily spotted you. His heart picked up speed as you bent over slipped on heel off and then the other off. The wind, came at that moment and he saw the tiny panties you were wearing.

“Hi, little minx.”

You let out a squeak and turned to face him. “Jerome,” you smacked his arm. “You, just scared me.”

He chuckled. “I’m sorry, allow me to comfort you.” He pulled you close, your heels dropped to the ground. “What are you doing out here?” He gently, rubbed your back.

You placed your hands on his upper arms. “I have so much on my mind. I have been trying to be strong.”

“Oh are you? I have been trying to be strong all night too, my little minx.”

“What? Jerome?”

As he watched, he saw something flicker in your eyes. A knot of seriousness grew in his stomach. “I’m sorry little dove. Talk to me.”

“Is he your sugar daddy?”

“Where did you hear this?” He felt like he had been smacked across the face.

“I heard your friends talking.”

He nodded, he gritted his teeth but then he relaxed. “Little dove, before I met you I made compromises with myself to pursue a creative life. Some, I am still involved in.”

He wished he knew how you felt, taking a breath continued.

“You came long,” He continued. “And little dove, you changed everything.” He swallowed. “Little dove, he gives me work. If you will give me the chance, I can explain in greater detail later.”

“Answer me one thing?”

“For you, my little dove anything?”

“Did you sleep with him?”

“No, I did not.”

******

You no longer felt upset. You were relieved. You would let him explain later. Having, gone out for air had been for the best. You really had to try and get a better hold onto your feelings. “Jerome?”

“Yes.”

“What did you mean that you had to be strong?” You asked playfully.

“Well,” He leaned in close. “I need you.”

@rentskenobi @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @profkenobi @xxinvisiblexx @unfilteredmoonchild

#jerome x y/n #jerome x you #jerome #jerome x reader #reflections #ewan mcgregor #chapter 8c #pillowbook fanfiction #pillowbook smut #pillowbook

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cornflowercanine · 4 years

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a way i like to conceptualize and explain ocd shit is “threat” and the “fix” to ‘get rid of it’, part 8c its more str8forward and easy to put together and part 8c going “i have an o8session regarding cars and driving” or “i compulsively check my window every night” puts a very diff idea in ppls heads than what you mean lol so like the “threat” (o8session) that if i am around important people, or groups of people, or even other people at All, i am going to yell vulgar out of place even disgusting things at them that i cant control and/or ‘f33l’ like yelling 8c i s3333cretly WANT to do it (which can result in repeatedly trying to prove to yourself you dont to a8solve this threat), so my 8rain tells me i Have to “fix” it 8y (compulsions) forcefully k33ping my mouth closed (pulling hoodie hood over my mouth, literally 8iting my tongue, holding my fists over my mouth in hopes i just look contempl8ive, etc etc etc), 8y leaving or going to some kind of corner far from others when i get these thoughts, or 8y just not willingly 8eing around others altogether, and if im unwillingly put in this scenario (ex. the way to the 8athrooms are through a crowd) it amplifies and makes everything Worse or the “threat” there is deadly mold in my fridge getting into my food that can poison and kill me, which i only f33l i can “fix” 8y doing a d33p 8leach cleaning or something else extremely heavy and unhelpful every month, w33k, or even every other day. CONSCIOUSLY i Know if i’ve just recently cleaned it i dont n33d to again, and that if my food was going 8ad i would Know, 8ut the overwhelming unavoida8le Dread that if i Dont clean it so often i will die is so intense it doesn’t f33l worth the risk to just let it go and leave it or the “threat” that if all the lights in a room are off, i Can’t 8e facing any of the walls or i’ll 8e open and vulnera8le to 8eing hurt 8y Something, so i of course “fix” this 8y never facing any of the walls in a dark room, even if it means taking 24 extra minutes 8efore 8ed to edge to where i left my meds on my desk, or not getting food at night when i’m starving. i Know, logically, if there was nothing there in the light nothing will ‘appear’ once it’s dark, and i Know even if there Was something there not facing it wouldnt protect me, 8ut i (s33mingly) just can’t help it, and Have to do it no matter what, which can make me f33l like i’m going insane etc ocd is an anxiety disorder 8ut the anxiety happens in a very specific way and pattern thats worth noting

#clove rambles #long post #OCD IS SO SO INTERESTING TO ME SORRY AHH #these are just examples 8tw #sooooo many types of o8sessions

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salvatoreschool · 5 years

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Julie Plec Says Josie and Landon Will Face 'Relationship Hurdles' in Legacies Season 2

[Warning: The following contains spoilers for the Season 2 premiere episode of Legacies. Read at your own risk!]

Legacies sure didn't waste any time doling out emotional devastation in Season 2. Though we were expecting Hope's (Danielle Rose Russell) exile in Malivore to last longer than it did, we're glad to have her home — even if no one else is.

A quick recap: While the witches, werewolves, and vampire students at the Salvatore School all went their separate ways to enjoy summer vacation, the tribrid they'd forgotten spent her vacay trapped in a hell dimension. But it didn't take her long to realize that her plan to destroy Malivore by throwing herself into the pit probably didn't fully work because her vampire side is still dormant on account of the fact she's never died before. C'mon girl, rookie mistake!

So while she and Clarke (Nick Fink) toiled away inside Malivore together, Landon (Aria Shahghasemi) spent his summer drowning himself over and over again in order to get glimpses of the love he'd lost but couldn't quite remember. Josie (Kaylee Bryant) eventually gave him a serious lecture on self-harm, though, and they ended up developing a budding new romance.

That was all well and good... until Hope found a way to free herself from Malivore and return to Mystic Falls. The catch to this fortuitous turn of events, of course, is that exiting Malivore didn't restore anyone's memories of her, meaning all of Hope's loved ones have no idea who she is. This girl just just can't catch a break!

TV Guide spoke with showrunner Julie Plec about this latest devastating development, and what it means for Hope and all her friends moving forward.

What was the most fun part about creating a world in which no one remembers Hope?

Julie Plec: I really wanted to see how Alaric (Matthew Davis) handled himself without his sidekick. His relationship with Hope is such a great Giles-Buffy dynamic, and when left to his own devices, without her as his co-captain, I wanted to see what that looked like. Where we had fun was in how we rebuilt that relationship even though he has no idea who she is.

Now that she's back, how is Hope going to navigate this world where everyone she loves has no clue who she is?

Plec: She's got a real big decision to make. She's got to decide, 'Do I just knock on the front door of the school and say, hey I'm back and here's who I am,' or does she follow that instinct in her head — whether it's true or not — that everyone's better off without her? It's not a decision that she can make right away. It's not even a decision that's going to be smart when she makes it, and that's part of the fun of her character. She's so strong and yet she's capable of making these kind of emotional mistakes, and I want to see how that goes for her.

Is there any hope left that she could get people's memories of her back?

Plec: If and when she chooses to stay, it will presumably be because she thinks that there's a world where she can fit back into her old life again. But it's a precarious existence episode to episode, and it does a number on her emotionally. She wants so much to be back in the comfort of the world that she left behind, but she also knows that in doing so she'll be more disruptive than she will be beneficial, and that gives her pause.

What can you tease about how this Hope-related memory loss will shift things around with all the relationships she'd built with people at the Salvatore School?

Plec: She meets everybody as a stranger, and her decision on how to engage with each of these individual people is a lot of fun to watch.

Clarke seems to have recommitted to being his father's minion, but we did see a softer side of him in the premiere. How much of him is capable of being saved?

Plec: I think any time a villain makes a decision to be a bad guy, it's based on feeling deeply and emotionally wounded. There's always hope for them to be redeemed, but first he's got to get himself out of there. So, we'll see how that goes.

As for this new ominous, hooded figure we saw, can you say anything about this person and how worried we should be about what he or she is up to?

Plec: I can say that its identity is a mystery and a fun reveal when the hood finally comes off.

How long can we expect to wait to see Peyton Alex Smith again, since Rafael (Peyton Alex Smith) is still very much trapped as a wolf?

Plec: Well, I can tell you you won't have to wait too long, but it's also not immediate... It definitely is not an easy transition back into his regular life. He is someone who's always struggled, so he's used to the struggle. It's so hard, especially for Landon seeing his friend suffer so much. So it's going to really drive Landon to want to do something to help Raf make it through this hard time.

What's on tap for Josie and Landon romantically this season now that they've acknowledged the connection between them?

Plec: They have such a sweet friendship that they were able to build over the first episode that becomes romantic, and those are the best ones in a lot of ways. They're the ones that [are] built [on] a solid footing. But also, they're two very co-dependent people, who really like taking care of other people. They're not really used to people taking care of them, so it creates a lot of early relationship hurdles that are sort of fun and sad all at the same time.

And just for my peace of mind, does Landon have a phoenix resurrection limit we should be worried about?

Plec: That is the question, and it's the question we will be asking every time he goes down, because we don't know.

My nerves are going to love that, so thanks.

Plec: So will Hope's and Josie's.

Josie seems to have dropped the Ascendant thing, for now, having found out about Evil Uncle Kai (Chris Wood), but is that door firmly shut or should we keep an eye on it?

Plec: Well, it's never firmly shut because it's something that is haunting them from afar. It's the thing that's going to impact their future, but they definitely do make a pledge to each other that they're going to try to live their lives, in spite of it.

Lizzie (Jenny Boyd) has a new love interest headed her way in Sebastian (Thomas Doherty). What can you say about how their relationship will develop?

Plec: He smolders, let's just put it that way. He's mysterious, he's probably a little dangerous, he's that great, old-school creature that we all used to love. Dropping him into a contemporary, newly woke universe is probably not the best place he's ever been, and yet it's fun to watch an old-school vampire learn the rules of being a new-school vampire, especially when MG is the one teaching those rules.

We also know Aunt Freya (Riley Voelkel) will be paying us a visit this season, so what can you say about what brings her back around?

Plec: One thing I can say about Riley's episode is that it's not Hope who goes and brings Freya to Mystic Falls. It's somebody else, which I think will be an interesting dynamic.

Twitter also very much wants to know, what are the odds of seeing Penelope Park (Lulu Antariksa) back in Season 2?

Plec: I love how much everybody loves Penelope Park, and maybe one day.

Legacies airs Thursdays at 9/8c on The CW.

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radiosteve · 5 years

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Need Your Loving Tonight Ch.5

Summary: Going back to Roger’s apartment suddenly seems like a bad idea when a wave of nervousness sets in, bringing back unpleasant and old memories. It isn’t until Roger begins to spew reassuring compliments that the tension begins to unwind. What happens next could lead everything down a new path or reverse back into a painful past.

Note: Here is chapter five! I’m not sure if I really like the direction I took this chapter, but i think it makes the most sense in the grand scheme of the story. And for everyone waiting for Deaky to finally come in, that will be within the next few chapters. The italicized part is a flashback and I think there’s one line that is supposed to be the reader’s thoughts. The photo is one that I found on google. I do not own any rights to it. If you want to be added to the taglist send me a message or an ask and I’ll add you! (I’m on vacation until Saturday so my response may take a while but I’ll try to answer everything asap)

Warnings: Some language, cheating, smut

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader, John Deacon x Reader

Words: 4.2k+

May 9, 1970

As you climbed the stairs to Roger’s apartment, your newfound confidence quickly dwindled. So heavily lost in your thoughts, you nearly missed a step on the way up, placing your hand on Roger’s back to steady yourself. He gave you a swift glance back and held out his hand for you to take. The small gesture filled you with relief, in hopes that he didn’t think of you as just another notch in his belt. With your hands still intertwined, Roger led you to a door labeled 8C and fumbled to get the key out of his pocket with just one hand.

You pulled your hand from his grasp as he struggled to unlock the door and he gave you a small, close-lipped smile. Walking into to Roger’s apartment was like a bad sense of déjà vu. You’d been there a million times with the band, but you’d never been left there alone with Roger. And of course, you’d never been there with the same goal in mind that you had right now. You followed Roger as he shuffled through the door, dropping some of his stuff onto the counter before turning back to you.

“A cup of tea?” he asked, an edge of anxiousness present in his voice. But you just brushed it off and took it the quiver in his voice as a projection of your own feelings. After all, how could the Roger Taylor be nervous to be around you.

“Yeah, that’d be great,” you nodded as you sat on the stool by the edge of the counter.

“Extra milk, right?” Roger asked, despite already knowing the answer. He had sat across from you at breakfast the morning you discovered that Brits like to put milk in their tea. He joked about you being a ‘silly little American’ and you ended up pouring a shit ton of milk in your tea just to spite him. Luckily for you, things worked in your favor and you thought that it tasted so good. It soon became your go to way to make tea for yourself. Roger enjoyed that breakfast, even though you left to go home with Tim afterwards. Just the look on your face as you watched him reach to grab the milk for his tea made his heart pound. With your wide eyes, wrinkled forehead, and gaping lips, Roger couldn’t help but chuckle.

You hummed a yes as Roger set the kettle on the stove and peered over in your direction. You stared blankly at the counter that you rested against. Roger watched as your fingers tugged at the cuticles on your nails, a nervous habit of yours that Roger carefully picked up on. But Roger knew that picking at your cuticles was just the first stage of your stroll down Panic Street. Stage two was usually when you would start biting at the cuticles instead of picking at them. You always joked about never being able to get a good manicure because you knew it would be ruined before the end of the day. Roger always imagined being the one to help you kick the habit one day. He was pulled from his head when he heard the kettle begin to whistle from stove. But with a look over at you, Roger could tell that you were still consumed by the worrying thoughts within your mind.

The lights in the room were so dim that you could hardly see a single one of your classmates that surrounded you. The only thing that gave you any real indication that you weren’t entirely alone was the steady chatter that filled the room and the faint music that came from the record player in the corner. You were by no means dressed for a party, but you couldn’t care less. Despite the awkward glances at your corduroy pants and knit sweater, you pushed through the crowd of your peers, making your way to the staircase. You came to this stupid house party for one reason and one reason only. Daniel.

Climbing the stairs consumed you in panic as your fingers dug into the flesh surrounding one of your fingernails, trying desperately to pull off the dead skin in order to find some sense of relief. As you reached the top of the steps, you heard the noise as clear as day and stopped dead in your tracks. The voices from downstairs, the soft music, and your footsteps on the hardwood floors all ceased to exist. The only sound that your ears could pick up was Angie Cornstone’s high pitched moan from the door down the hall. The blood drained from your face as she moaned louder, the sound ringing throughout your head.

“Daniel.”

With your heart sunken into the pit of your stomach, you treaded to the end of the hall, hesitantly placing your hand on the doorknob. Before you could change your mind, you twisted the knob and flung the door open to reveal what you already knew was happening. The sight of your boyfriend with his body pressed flush against your classmate made you want to vomit right there in the doorway. As soon as they noticed you, Daniel tore himself from Angie and she began to pull the front of her shirt back to its original position.

“Y/n, it’s not what it looks like, I swear,” Daniel pulled his shirt over his head and tried, unsuccessfully, to adjust the bulge in his pants.

“Really? How stupid do you think I am? I can’t believe you,” the blood rushed to your face, turning your cheeks a bright red as you spoke. “Actually, I shouldn’t be surprised. It was only a matter of time before you moved right along to the next girl. But do you know how embarrassing it is for me to get a call from Eric Richardson at midnight because he saw my boyfriend sneak upstairs with my lab partner from last year?” He moved his mouth as if he was going to speak, but the only thing that came out was a gargled sigh. “We’ve been together for over two years, you know that?”

A look of embarrassment flashed across Angie’s face that told you everything you needed to know. He’d been sleeping with her continuously throughout those two years. And if it wasn’t her that desperately clung to his bed sheets, then it was some other girl that was just as easily seduced by Daniel’s charm as you and Angie were. You knew it, could see it from the guilt that radiated around her body and the way she refused to meet your gaze. You knew but you needed to hear it, to make it real.

“How long?” your eyes darted between Angie and Daniel, but he knew you were asking a question much larger than the two words that left your lips.

“Everything started about three months after we first began dating,” he mumbled to the floor, but you heard it as if the entire world fell silent. The shattered remains of your heart ground themselves into a fine powder with the last of his words. At the three-month mark of your relationship, you told him that you loved him. And, fuck, you meant every word. That was the night that he took you up to his room for the first time. The same night that he laid you on his bed and danced his fingers across your skin. He showed you a whole new reason to love being in love. But the fog that clouded your head that night no longer consumed your thoughts as you stood before that same boy, disillusioned by the discovery that what you perceived as making love was actually just a quick fuck. Suddenly the words bubbled to the surface before you could stop them.

“Why did you do it?” your voice broke as the tears threatened to spill from your eyes, holding back as best as you could. Daniel didn’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing that he broke you, even though you were sure that he was already more than aware.

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. I was going to dump you that night but then you said you loved me, and I didn’t want to break your heart. So, I just kept going and hoped I’d be able to put you down easy one day. But it got harder and I just couldn’t take only being with you anymore. It really wasn’t my intention for you to find out and get hurt like this,” Daniel acted as if he was looking at you as he explained but you knew his gaze was directed somewhere behind your head. He knew that after two years of lying, one look in your eyes would consume him with guilt that he’d built up. And that just wasn’t something he wanted to deal with, so he took the selfish route and avoided your harsh stare, trying to convince himself that he’s innocent.

“Didn’t want to break my heart?” you squeaked out, taking a step closer to the door. The tears now clouded your vision and the faces in front of you began to blur. “Look how well that turned out for you,” you slammed the door shut and let out a shaky sigh as you marched down the stairs, pushing through the bodies of you classmates that blocked the front door. With your fragile heart pounding in your chest, you grabbed your bike and rode it to the only place that you could think of, the beach.

“Are you alright?” Roger spoke softly, not wanting to startle you. You looked up and your head cleared of the memory that you wish you could forget. The sadness that filled your eyes as you gazed back at Roger made his heart nearly split in half. Whatever you were thinking about must have hurt like a bitch. You nodded, answering Roger’s question and picked up the mug that he had placed in front of you. “I know you two weren’t dating, but he really didn’t deserve you. I hope you know that,” you felt confused before realizing that Roger was talking about Tim. God, that felt whole thing felt like it was days ago, but in reality, it was only a few hours ago. Being lost in your thoughts really makes time fly, I guess.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, knowing you should leave before your stupid heart goes for it and finally gets what it wants. His eyes were still locked on you and you couldn’t help but notice. You shifted your gaze to look at him, feeling a little rush of electricity pulse through you once more.

“Y/n,” he nearly whispered it, making you long to reach out and touch him. But you held back, your brain acting as the biggest cockblock between Roger and your heart. “I’m serious. You are one of the funniest people I’ve ever met. Not to mention the smartest, don’t tell Brian I said that though. But honestly, who studies math because they actually like it? You have to be super smart to do that,” Your lips turned into a soft smile as he rambled on, making you forget about everything that put you in a foul mood. “And you’re so talented! I’ve seen you play the drums when you think no one is looking. The energy that you put into it makes your performance so vibrant and powerful. And you’re even better at the piano. It’s almost like you were born to play it. God, I could listen to you play piano for hours,” Roger never once let his gaze fall from yours as he continued to speak. “And you’re so fucking beautiful,” the smile that rested on your face quickly fell as the words left his lips.

“What?” you breathed out as shock overtook your expression, but Roger just ignored you.

“From that first day I saw you at my audition, I knew you were the prettiest girl I will ever meet, prettiest girl in the whole world. I honestly don’t know how Tim was able to sleep with other girls when he had the most gorgeous woman in the entire world just a few blocks down the road. No one else could ever compare to you and it’s a damn shame that he didn’t realize it,” a silence drifted throughout the room as he finished talking. You set your mug back on the counter, pushed your stool back and moved to stand in front of Roger. His eyes never once left yours as he took uneven breaths, waiting for you to say something.

“Rog,” you whispered, ignoring the crack in your voice. “Tim may not have deserved me, but you do,” the words fluttered from your lips like the butterflies erupting within your stomach.

“Prove it,” Roger could barely hear the words escape his mouth over the blood rushing to his head. You hesitated for a moment before taking a step closer to Roger and looking up into his wide, blue eyes. The confidence that you felt when you asked Roger to take you home resurfaced. And despite your brain yelling at you to stop and take a step back, your heart told you to close the gap that stood between you. So you did.

Your lips fell softly onto Roger’s as he took a sharp breath through his nose. Even though your eyes were closed, you could tell that Roger’s were wide open and filled with shock. You pulled away from the kiss almost as quickly as it had begun. Your eyes fell on the ground as if you were embarrassed to have acted on your desires. Roger took a moment longer before remembering how to properly function and snapped out of the trance you had set him in. You kissed him, he thought. You had finally done the one thing that he’d wanted to do since he met you. His gaze landed back on you and your now rosy cheeks.

He reached forward to cup your blushing cheeks in his hand, feeling the heat radiate off them. You trailed your vision up from the ground, finally meeting Roger’s eyeline. His eyes were filled with emotion and your heart pounded, hoping that it was a good thing. He leaned back into you, grazing his lips over yours as you moved your hands to rest on his chest. He couldn’t take it anymore as he finally pressed his lips back to yours, relishing in the feeling that came with it. He pulled you flush against his body, earning a smile from you as he continued to kiss you. Roger took your smile as an opportunity to slip his tongue between your lips, craving to touch you in every intimate way he could imagine. He tasted like cigarettes and the honey from his tea, while you tasted like cherry chapstick and spearmint. Your hands moved to Roger’s neck as his dropped to your waist, pressing you against his kitchen counter. The two of you battled for dominance with your tongues before you ultimately lost, letting Roger take control for the time being.

He picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist, never once letting your lips leave his. Carrying you through the door to his bedroom, Roger hastily placed you on the bed before standing up to take his shirt off. Your eyes trailed up his chest before landing back on his eyes, leaning up to encompass his mouth with yours. He knelt onto the bed, pressing you back so he could lay you down. Roger’s lips left yours as he began to work his way down your neck. His mouth left a trail of kisses as small moans escaped you. He took your moans as a sign of encouragement as he tugged on your shirt, telling you that you should take it off. You nodded at Roger’s request as he propped himself up enough for you to remove your shirt. Even after you took it off, Roger remained in place, hovering over top of you. His eyes traced down your torso and you watched him while you tried to catch your breath. You tried to process everything that was happening and hoped that it wasn’t just some extremely realistic sex dream. Roger’s eyes finally reached yours once again, and you stared back at him in wonder.

“Just like I said, you’re fucking beautiful y/n l/n,” Roger breathed out and a smile broke out on your face. You pulled Roger down to reconnect your lips once more before slowly reaching down to rest your hand over the growing bulge in his pants. You felt it rub against your thigh and it made you even wetter than you already were. He groaned as your fingers squeezed lightly through the fabric of his jeans. Craving more friction, Roger undid the button and zipper, pulling his pants down his legs before kicking them off the side of the bed. You followed his actions, leaving you only in your bra and panties while Roger was just in his boxers. His fingers traced along the inside of your thighs before coming up to rest on your clothed core. You moaned his name as Roger rubbed small circles along the fabric.

As Roger continued to press his fingers against you, your hands snaked behind your back to unclasp your bra. Roger’s eyes widened again as the sight of your uncovered breasts came to his attention. You pressed your chest against his and began to leave rushed kisses all over his neck. It wasn’t long before you found a spot on his neck just above his collarbone that made him moan and gasp as you kissed it. You began to suck harshly, wanting to leave a dark mark against his skin, to know that this was real. As you continued to leave hickies on Roger, he removed his hand from your panties and replaced it with the steady grinding of the bulge in his boxers. A gasp and moan fell from your mouth as you tilted your head back before attacking Roger’s neck with your lips once more. You caught him by surprise and managed to flip Roger over, putting yourself on top. He looked up at you as you sat on his upper thighs, right below the bulge in his boxers. Roger stuck his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugged them down as you lifted your body up to help get them off your legs. You then reached in front of you and pulled his boxers down, allowing Roger’s cock to spring free. You licked your lips as you leaned down to place your mouth on the head of Roger’s length, but he stopped you.

“As great as that would be love, I need to be inside you,” you could tell that it took every ounce of strength within Roger to decline your impromptu blow job. A smile came to your lips as you leaned down to place a passionate and rough kiss to Roger’s lips. The tip of his dick brushed across your stomach as you kissed him and you could feel the precum rub against you. You broke away from his lips as you used your knees to lift you up enough to sink down onto Roger’s length. Desperate moans filled the room before being quickly replaced by the sound of skin slapping against skin and heavy breaths. Your hips rolled against Roger’s in perfect harmony as he pounded into you from below. As it turns out, drummers are good at keeping time for things other than just music.

Both of your thrusts contained a passion that neither of you knew existed while you continued to move your bodies as one whole. Roger shifted so that he sat upright beneath you, pounding his cock into you from a new angle. A moan ripped through your body as your walls clenched around Roger. You both began to move sloppier as Roger’s hands moved up to massage you breasts and his lips found their way to suck dark spots across them. The sensation of Roger’s hands, mouth, and cock combined sent you over the edge. You felt your orgasm peak as you screamed out Roger’s name and dug your fingernails into his back. His hands quickly shifted down to your ass, holding onto to you as he reached his own high. Roger spilled his cum into you before laying back against his bed with your body pressed against his chest. After you’d calmed down enough, you rolled off of Roger and laid next to him, placing your head against his chest before you both drifted off to sleep.

May 10, 1970

When you woke up, your head was rested against a pillow next to Roger. His bright eyes were lazily opened and gazing at you as you turned your body towards him. He leaned forwards into you, placing a gentle kiss against your lips as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Last night was incredible,” he spoke softly. His voice sounded a little hoarse, but you didn’t mind.

“It was,” you confirmed, a gentle smile overtaking your features. “So, when are you going to take me out on a real date Taylor?” a teasing tone masked your gentle voice as the smile on your face grew larger. Roger’s heart stopped. He liked you, he like you a lot. And that’s why he didn’t want to date you.

You always refused to tell him the story, but he knew you’d been hurt badly in the past. One night he got Brian drunk enough to tell him just how it happened, and his heart stopped beating in his chest immediately after. You had met you’re a boy in your freshman year of high school and gave him everything; your heart, your love, your virginity. Unfortunately for you, he was a liar and a douche and used you for over two years before you walked in on him fooling around with some other girl. You had been cheated on, and Roger knew as well as anyone else that he was not the most faithful when it came to relationships.

He wanted to believe that it would be different with you. That he would be so consumed and in love with you that he wouldn’t even look at another girl, let alone cheat on you with one. But there were always doubts that flew throughout his head. The what ifs. What if this and what if that. He didn’t want to break your heart; he couldn’t break your heart. Because he knew it would be much more than a simple crack down the middle. No, no. It would be stomping on it, shooting at it, grinding it down until it gets picked up in the wind. And by breaking your heart, Roger would end up breaking his own. So, he had to muster up the best excuse he could think of to avoid executing his worst fear.

“As lovely as it would be to take you out, I’m not sure if it’s a great idea,” Roger clenched his teeth with every word he spoke, mentally cursing himself for it because he was acutely aware of how damaging it is to clench your teeth. The smile fell from your face and you worked quickly to conceal the hurt that took its place, but Roger noticed. “I mean, you’re one of my best friends and I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” it wasn’t a complete lie, but Roger knew that his words were far from the truth.

“Right,” you sighed as you shifted to lay on your back and stare at the ceiling. “Well I should get going then,” abruptly, you sat up and started to get dressed. Roger mirrored your actions, trailing behind you as you grabbed your things and moved towards the front door.

“I can give you a lift home,” Roger suggested, hoping to alleviate the tension between you, but you just shook your head.

“No, that’s alright. I need to stop at the grocers to pick up some stuff for Sally anyways. I can walk,” you forced a tight smile onto your lips as you opened the door and took a step out.

“You did it again,” Roger rushed out before leaning against the doorframe, trying to hide how desperate he was for you to stay. You furrowed your eyebrows at his words, genuinely confused. “You used the British word instead of the American one. You know, grocer,” the smirk that appeared on his face quickly left when he saw how much his comment affected you. You looked close to tears before you choked out a few last words.

“Right,” you were so confused by Roger. He acted like he was head over heels in love with you, noticed little things about you, but then acted as if none of it even mattered. As if him remembering all your little quirks and pointing them out to you wasn’t something that someone did when they were in love. Roger pushed you away when all you wanted was to be held close. “I guess things are always changing.”

You turned away from Roger and started to walk down the hallway of his building. After a quick glance and a wave over your shoulder, you headed down the stairs and out towards the street. The tears in your eyes began to spill as you took a left turn at the corner, heading towards the only place in London that could make you feel the same as you did when you were on the beach. Brian’s apartment.

Taglist: @Retromusicsalad @bohemiansweede @deaconsroger @queen-crue @ohtheseboysilove @queeniesteiins @kemeryyyy @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ixchel-9275 @luvborhap @ziggymay @deakysmisfire

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amadgirltm · 4 years

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V.8: Tangled Verses

V.8A ( collecting stars and dreams );

Pre-Queen for a Day

Lady Allison Jones. It’s a name that not many people would think twice about. Which was exactly the point of her name. The name ‘Jones’ has been passed through her family for generations, as well as her status as a Lady. After all, who would think someone named ‘Jones’ was actually a descendant of Lord Demanitus?

Scrolls and notebooks all written in code, passed down through her father’s line until they eventually ended up in her arms. Alice has been given a rather important task: mean nothing to the world, be polite, give no one reason to look at her strangely.

For someone else? That might be easy. For Alice? It’s a bit harder. After all, she fell through, what she thought was a rabbit hole, and spent a bit too long in a strange place of nonsense, where she happened to met a woman with seemingly intense powers. While Alice was too young to truly understand it all, and while it’s a bit hard for her to remember it all, you can often find her still talking about ‘wonderland’, the ‘queen’ who wanted nothing more but to ‘cut off her head’, and she always says to never trust a Cheshire grin. Strange, isn’t it?

V.8B ( shine brighter than the sun );

Stardrop Verse

Here’s the Link to the OG post! Nothing has really changed except that Alice’s family history now follows 8A.

V.8C ( woke up into a nightmare );

Post Canon-Adult

Follows Verse 8A, unless tagged with 8B. Alice is now an adult, and yet it feels like nothing has changed. She’s still struggling with her home life, and her mother is still as terrible as always. While Alice is being perused by a young man named Daniel (whom she despises), Alice is preparing for her own final test to prove she herself is worth being a guard.

V.8D ( they’ll pay if it happens again );

Saporia’s Role

Everything happens the same until Queen for a Day: Varian ends up trying to get Rapunzel’s help with the Amber, however, She doesn’t help him (Just as in canon). He goes back & Ends up trying to free his dad himself but instead gets himself trapped in the Amber. Cue Alice finding him, and trying to get Rapunzel to help, again She doesn’t. She has to put the whole of the kingdom first. Alice does not fight Rapunzel, instead, she starts planning things, and then Rapunzel leaves on her journey to find her Destiny. Alice spends this time working, and studying up on Alchemy, and trying to figure out what exactly Varian used.

Alice ends up in jail a few months later due to stealing stuff from the castle, more specifically she finds her way in and steals the flower. She ends up in the same cell as Andrew. She’s already figuring out how to escape, but they end up talking. He offers his assistance in freeing Varian and Quirin since none of her attempts have worked, He also promises a chance to get back at Rapunzel & co. Alice accepts, saying that she’s in charge though. And Proves her point by using her vorpal blade to get them out of their prison cell. (It’s magical, of course she still has it).

They end up taking over the kingdom, Alice leading and planning things out the whole time. Unlike Varian, Alice actually is in charge due to her sword, her skills, and her lack of obvious remorse over hurting people.

>Verse will change depending on if Rapunzel returns, and if Rapunzel is willing to help Alice >Possible variant of verse: Rapunzel frees Varian and his father before stopping the Saporians, meaning that Alice is still in charge of the kingdom >Can take place during any point within this timeline

V.8E ( pull your knife out of my back );

Season Two / Early Season three

Alice had been turned away from the guards every time she attempted to see Varian, leaving her feeling lost and a bit hurt. However, she didn’t give up on him. Not until he was suddenly taking over the kingdom, and working with the Saporians. Alice attempted to talk to him, only to be taken away by a few saporians (ordered by Andrew) to the mines, where she was forced to work for three days without breaks or food. (Varian did not know about this).

After the first episode of season three, Alice no longer trusts Varian, and believes it was him who forced her out of his life, and believes that he betrayed HER trust. She is very upset, and is not willing to talk things out, she’s angry, and depressed and feels alone. She’s not willing to trust ANYONE again (besides Feldspar). However, she still believes there’s good in him, and wishes she could trust him again. It will not take much to befriend her again, but a sincere apology and perhaps a bit of bribery by sweet treats may sway her back to his side. (How can she ever deny being such a sweet boy’s friend?)

V.8F ( i will guard you with my life );

Adopted Verse

Rumors circulated Old Corona, that Helen Kingsleigh was hurting her daughter. Quirin, being in charge, ended up looking into the manner, and found the rumors to be true, although he couldn’t prove it. The daughter was easily given up, with Helen claiming she couldn’t take care of all three children. Taking the young girl home, he found himself unsure what to do. He already a three year old son, and had recently lost his wife- he couldn’t take care of another child. He called upon the Captain of the Guard, who came and met the four year old Alice, deciding to take her in himself.

Alice grew up alongside Cassandra ( @moonstonetm ), whom she looked up and admired greatly. However, Alice also finds herself constantly comparing herself to her sister, and finds herself increasingly jealous of Cass. Her love for her sister is never a question, but she tends to act out in order to try and get attention in any way she can from her sister (typically at Cass’ expense). These dark feelings have come from the voice in her head has been telling her to not trust her for a VERY long time. While Alice tries to ignore the voice, it constantly seems to want her to distrust her sister. These has caused a small rift in their relationship, which might only get worse with time.

In this AU, Alice is being trained to be a guard as well, and while she is excellent, and even exceeding, at swordsmanship, she does not have the temperament or attention span to be a guard. However, Alice is still often assigned duties and jobs just as Cassandra is. She is never given an official position, instead she often sneaks out of the castle grounds and into the town, and even to Old Corona sometimes (often getting both her and Cassandra in trouble).

V.8G ( there’s hell to pay );

Role Reversal

Alice is a brilliant young inventor and alchemist, living with her father in Old Corona. Her favorite pastime is decoding the notebooks and scrolls kept in the safe in their basement, and she adores attempting to rebuild the blueprints she finds. Sure, her father tells her it’s best to not do so, but he also can’t stop her from engaging in such an old family pastime.

She’s not the only alchemist or inventor either! Nearby, lives the genius Varian, whom she often shares ideas and supplies with. Together, they’ve earned quite the reputation, labeled as a wizard and witch, who deal with dangerous and rare magic. However, they often work at Alice’s house more than his, due to her father being much more accepting of their unique hobby. While Varian often overlooks things, Alice tends to be much more particular in what they do, and will often stop Varian before his projects get out of hand. Together, they’re a real force to be reckoned with.

Then, Rapunzel showed up on their doorstep, asking for answers for her hair. Unlike in the series, it wasn’t one of Varian’s projects that caused them to receive no answers: no, it was a miscalculation, that neither caught, that ended up labeling her hair as a rock instead. Varian also has no need during the expo to look for a partner, as he already as has Alice willing to work with him.

However, the events of Queen for a Day play out VERY Differently, as Varian and Alice are both working diligently on trying to fix the rock issue. and Alice’s father comes to check on them, letting them explain what they were doing, before testing a new serum. As far as they know, it doesn’t do anything, and Alice’s father sends Varian home, also Sending Alice upstairs to eat something. This is when the Amber encased him.

Alice proceeds down Varian’s route within the show, slowly descending into her own madness and using manipulation, alchemy, Dinah, and her inventions to fight and try to find a way to free her father. Unlike Varian, Alice also uses her skills in both alchemy and magic to run away at the end, and get away from the Corona guard before she can be arrested. She’s currently holed up in Demanitus’ tomb, sifting through his blueprints and notes.

Whether or not Varian helps her, decides to leave her, or fight against her is up to who ever interacts with this verse

V.8H ( practically perfectly replaceable );

Rapunzel Replacement

Helen never wanted the blonde girl, and it didn’t take much to convince the local ‘mayor’ of sorts to take her. After all, a baby is so much work, and what use for it does she have?

That’s how Quirin ended up swaddling the baby, only a few days old, in the Throne room of the Corona Castle. Unsure what to do with the child, given that he had his own to take care of. The King and Queen took one look at the child, and felt their hearts stop. She looked so similar to the lost princess, until she opened her eyes, and bright blue stared at them instead of green. Sure, she was a few years too young, but she was still, practically perfect. Like a gift sent to them from the heavens.

The kingdom was growing worse every day, yes they prospered, but without the princess, and without security of knowing what would happen if something happened to the king and queen? Well, things were tense to say the least.

So, they decided to take the young blonde, Alice, they were told her name was. But that would be the most well kept secret King Fredrick had, along with who she really was. After all, the next day, it was announced that the Lost Princess had been found, by Quirin, along with the witch who had stolen her, and had kept her young. They displayed the long blonde locks, and the small baby that looked just like she had when she had been stolen. The Kingdom rejoiced. Finally, Rapunzel was home.

Growing up in the castle, trained in protocol, and royal duties, Rapunzel was practically a perfect princess. The only thing was that she always kept her eyes down, and out of sight at all times.

Plus there was the growing issue of that VOICE in her head.

Imagine EVERYONE’S surprise when Flynn Rider shows up with a woman named Rapunzel, with short brown hair and green eyes, whom he claims is the real princess. And the younger, fake Princess Rapunzel’s whole world is twisted, and suddenly she’s now the lost princess, just metaphorically.

V.8I ( Swear to the Moon );

Brotherhood Adopted

Alice was born, and instantly forgotten. She was found as a child by Hector. She was trained by him to be a warrior, a fighter, a killer. At age ten she was sworn into the brotherhood, pledging herself and her life to the moonstone, and to the dark kingdom.

Hector, having to stay to protect the Great tree, has given Alice the task of locating any other members of the dark kingdom. Not to make them return, but to be sure that they’re alive.

Alice has no knowledge of Corona, nor the people within it. She has no prior emotions for anyone. And is likely to treat others with hostility, and violence, have a lack of manners, as well as speak in a bit of strange ways. She also has a pet Bearcat, whom she rides, and who she calls “Teddy.” Her family history has no place within her, except for the ever growing threat of the voice in her head.

V.8J ( WAKE UP ALICE );

Nightmare Trapped

Alice wakes up being told that it is her Wedding day. When she looks in the mirror, it not her sixteen year old face that looks back at her, instead it’s some woman. One that she wouldn’t recognize without that typical blue ribbon in her hair.

No one in Corona sees anything wrong with this, In fact, everyone is acting as if the missing four years had happened. Apparently, somewhere down the line Rapunzel and Cassandra had made up? Alice had gotten engaged? Eugene was prince now? Alice didn’t live with her mother.

Honestly, it didn’t sound TOO bad. Actually, it was a dream come true. Which was Alice’s issue with everything. No one just FORGETS four years of their life, and when Alice shows up on time somewhere?

Well, she realizes, it’s time to wake up. And to figure out who-or WHAT- is trying to keep her here.

Who ever wants to interact with this verse can either:

A.) also be ‘awake’ and be aware that something is wrong

B.) try to convince Alice that everything is fine and okay.

V.8K ( i’d give anything for you );

Late Season Three

Soon after the events of “Be Very Afraid”, Alice will have changed quite a bit. Realizing her own fears, and who she was actually afraid of, Alice will force herself to face it.

In doing so, she has begun to stick up for herself much more. By this I mean, Alice has officially stopped living with her mother and family. She now lives in the Castle as a squire.

The guard she is currently working under is quite strict during the week days, but is also quite caring and understanding and much more relaxed than other guards. This means she has weekends off, once she has finished doing her work, allowing her to walk around Corona, and do what she pleases.

While most squires are typically teenage boys, due to Alice’s skills with her swordplay, she was given a pass and allowed to study, and to one day become a full fledged Corona Guard.

She has also taken up extra time studying with the now retired Captain, allowing him to decide when and where it will take place. As well as constant running between the Castle and Xavier’s for training in blacksmithing.

While Alice has not forgiven Varian, fully, she is much more willing to work with him, talk to him, and so on. However, this is mainly due to her need to be willing, and listen to orders. She does still wish though to fully make up with him eventually.

V.8L ( these voices these strange noises );

Post Canon

Life in Corona has seemingly gone back to normal. Cassandra is gone, and everything seems okay.

That is until the small voice in Alice’s head begins talking. Random black outs, and actions unlike herself (or perhaps too close to herself?). Alice is struggling with the long lasting effects from her time spent in, what she now knows is called, the lost realm. She’s trying to become a guard, a knight if she gets that far, but the way things seem to be going, it appears her madness is taking it’s toll. Who knows if Corona will ever truly be normal again?

And worst of all for her, it seems she might have to put her trust in the very person she wishes to keep at a distance.

#spoilers;#tts spoilers #Verse Bio Tag;#V.8A ( collecting stars and dreams );#V.8B ( shine brighter than the sun );#V.8C ( woke up into a nightmare );#V.8D ( they’ll pay if it happens again );#V.8E ( pull your knife out of my back );#V.8F ( i will guard you with my life );#V.8G ( there’s hell to pay );#V.8H ( practically perfectly replaceable );#V.8I ( Swear to the Moon );#V.8J ( WAKE UP ALICE );#V.8K ( i’d give anything for you );#V.8L ( these voices these strange noises );

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samingtonwilson · 4 years

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Apartment 8C - Chapter 2

Finding Your Independence

SERIES MASTERLIST // PREVIOUS PART

Pairing: bucky x reader

Warnings: language

A/N: the chapter title is ironic because this chapter is about how dependent these two are on each other.

A scream startles you from accidental sleep. Deep, broken, and utterly terrified.

It’s half-past six. Your room is bathed in gold. Fading sunlight and emerging city lights leak through the thin drapes over your windows. You set your chin onto an open textbook.

Your eyes open narrowly. You need to listen carefully. You could have dreamt the scream.

A slow second passes, your eyes nearly shut, and then—

Another scream. This time of your name. Your eyes snap back open.

You flip the pen you fell asleep holding, gripping it as a weapon while groggily— but with great haste, of course— climbing out of bed.

Heartbeat in your ears, you sigh and kick away the thick purple blanket your feet are tangled in, throwing your door open to an empty living room.

The front door is shut, your television hasn’t been ripped from the wall, everything is in its place. Even Bucky’s laptop sits undisturbed on the coffee table next to an almost totally flat bag of Doritos.

You tilt your head.

From behind the bathroom door, your name is screamed again. And a whimper punctuates it.

In all your time of knowing Bucky, you’ve never once heard him so terrified.

You swallow over the tension tightening your throat and pick up the first semi-threatening object you see: the penis-shaped vase Bucky had “unintentionally” made in ceramics during the semester he’d devoted to discovering his artistic side.

You toss the pink peonies it houses aside and grip the vase tightly, pen poised in your other hand. You use your elbow to open the door, eyes narrowed and teeth gritted in an attempt to look tough. Objects held above your head, you’re about to strike when—

When you see Bucky standing on top of the toilet. Towel wrapped haphazardly around his waist, chestnut hair dripping, his blue eyes wild. He’s also pale as a ghost, but his fearful expression takes only seconds to shift into one of confusion.

One which matches yours. “You’re not being murdered?”

“No!” he shouts back to meet your volume. He points at the glass wall enclosing the shower, finger shaking. “There’s a fucking spider in there!”

Your teeth grit again. But this time in anger. “You shrieked like someone was beheading you over a spider?”

Seconds later, you gasp dramatically as you ask, “You woke me up from a nap over a spider?”

He at least has the decency to be sheepish. “S’a big spider.”

“You’re six-feet tall and have, like, 185 pounds on that spider.”

“Size doesn’t matter. I raise you the poisonous spiders of Australia.”

Nodding, you hold out your forearm to help Bucky off the toilet seat. You grunt at the weight of him.

Maybe 185 is a stingy estimation.

“Okay, I see your poisonous spiders of Australia and raise you ‘we’re in New fucking York, Bucky.’”

Standing on the floor now, he winces when you use the back of your hand to slap his bicep. “There are poisonous spiders in New York, too, okay? We’re all afraid of something.”

Silence as you regard him, a sigh as you concede. “Okay.” You ignore his victorious smile. “I’ll take care of it. Can you just turn the water off, please?”

“And get close to that thing again?” he demands, outrage clear in his voice. He tries to keep his towel in place with one hand as he gesticulates with the other. “No! You do it.”

“My clothes will get wet and I’m not in the mood to strip for you right now.”

He smiles at that. “S’not like I haven’t seen it all before.”

“Yeah? You wanna make ‘we’ve fucked before’ jokes right now? When the fate of you ever using this bathroom again is in my hands?”

An almost pathetic whimper and he relents with hands held up in surrender. He approaches the shower slowly and, with a scowl, reaches for the knob once, twice, three times before finally gripping it and turning it to the left.

Once the steady stream of water is reduced to mere drops, Bucky stands back and sends you a glare. “Happy?”

“Elated.” You set your weapons on the counter and rip off two sheets of paper towel.

“Kill it quickly.”

“I’m not gonna kill it.”

He snorts as he stands leant against the doorframe. “What, are you gonna adopt it as the apartment pet?”

“No, funny guy. I’m gonna let it go on the balcony.”

“What if it comes back in?”

“Then we’ll get the Five Families together and let the Mafia handle it.”

When you finally spot the thick, quarter-sized spider, you inhale through your nose and step into the shower stall slowly. You brace yourself with one hand wrapped around the edge of the glass wall. Your features are pinched.

Bucky grins at the sight. “You scared, baby?”

A sarcastic bark of laughter, and you crack one eye open. You almost convince him. “Please.”

It takes little coaxing for the brown spider to crawl onto the paper towel and you immediately fold each side of it closed. There’s a soft scratch of the spider’s legs against the paper walls, more felt than heard, and you forcefully choke back vomit.

You bump into Bucky as you race out of the bathroom, his towel very nearly slipping from his fingers, and don’t slow your steps until you’re across the living room and have pushed the balcony doors open.

Carefully, you unfold one side of the makeshift cocoon and squeal quietly to yourself as the spider stumbles into a flower box attached to the metal rail. It quickly scurries behind a wilting tulip and you make a mental note to water the plants more.

“You were coming to protect me with this?”

Bucky, now dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of navy blue sweatpants, is holding the penis vase when you turn. He stands at a safe distance, shielded by the door, and has the nerve to wear a shit-eating grin. “You know there’s a baseball bat behind the couch, right?”

“Now I do.”

“I also gave you pepper spray when you enrolled in that nine PM lecture,” he adds as you walk through the door and right past him. He places the vase back on its shelf and nods his head toward the kitchen. “There are knives right there, too.”

You pick up the bag of Doritos, confirm that it is indeed empty, and frown. “Disgusting. I’d never stab someone.”

“Even if they were murdering me like you thought?” He takes the bag from you and balls it up to throw in the trash. He wants to open the refrigerator but knows the groceries he forgot to buy won’t magically appear on the shelves.

“Knives are such a cliché, everyone uses knives. He’d see it coming.” You grin at Bucky through the explanation from your favorite corner of the couch and he stills behind the kitchen counter. “The key is throwing him off his rhythm. Penis vase serves that purpose.”

He laughs, albeit a bit oddly, rolling his eyes as he opens the Notes app on his phone. And he draws a blank. “What, uh— What foods do you like?”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you have any favorite foods?”

He’s met with silence.

He decides to explain. Sort of. “Like, what do you want to eat most of the time? What is it that you crave? Food-wise,” he adds with a cocked eyebrow. “What is it you know how to make that you enjoy eating? Are you acting out of lunacy again and dieting for no fuckin’ reason?”

Seconds go by and you have yet to answer. He looks up from his phone and answers the question over your features with, “Just out of curiosity.”

“Not because you have zero idea what to buy from the store?”

“Can’t a guy wonder what his friend, ex-girlfriend, and roommate is eating these days? Just for fun? To bond?”

Your eyes narrow into a glare. “Not when that guy is you and it’s your turn to go grocery shopping. I thought I gave you a list a few days ago.”

“You yell random items at me on your way out the door for class and I’m expected to remember it all?”

“You yelled your feelings at me constantly and I was expected to remember it all,” you return as you rise from the couch and draw closer to him only to sit in one of the barstools at the counter. You watch as he opens his Notes application again and stare as he struggles to come up with anything. “Green apples, white peaches, red bell peppers, yellow onions. Don’t look at me like that. The colors are important.”

“Yeah, yeah. What are you doing for dinner? Might take me some time to decipher colors at the store.”

Chin propped up on your palm, you slide his phone over and ignore his expression of protest to add eggs, sourdough bread, avocados, pre-cut mushrooms, celery, hummus, whatever pasta is shaped like a spiral, tortilla chips, oat milk, any flavor of microwave popcorn Wanda won’t finish, and for God’s sake, you fucking wreck, buy your own gum for once to the grocery list.

“S’okay. I’m not really hungry anyway.”

“You’re always hungry.”

You gasp in offense with a small, contradictory smile. “How dare you? That’s not something you say to a lady.”

He smiles sarcastically before rolling his eyes. “If you need me to rush so you can make something, I will.”

“Too tired to make anything. Also just too untalented to.”

“Come with me, then. We can stop somewhere on the way back.” He sees you begin to refuse and cuts you off with a quick, “I’ll pay.”

“If you think you paying for my food is incentive enough for me to put on human pants and walk out that door,” you begin, pointing at the door, “then you’re absolutely correct. Give me a second to put jeans on.”

You hear Bucky’s chuckle as you walk into your room, tossing away that pair of fleece pants your mother had begged you to burn to ash the last time you’d seen her and replacing them with a pair of jeans your mother had also begged you to burn to ash. “How do you feel about Sam and Nat?”

“About Sam, negatively. About Tasha, positively.” He’s patting the pockets of his sweats and tossing couch cushions every which way to look under them, hair in disarray, when you hop into the room with only your right boot on. In a mumbled, barely present voice, he adds, “So I guess that balances out to feeling neutral about them together.”

Slipping on and zipping up your left boot, you cock an eyebrow at the elephant throw pillow which is sent smacking against your ankles. “Have you lost something?”

He doesn’t look up from the sofa as he replies, “Keys. Where the shit are my fucking keys?”

“D’you check the cabinet closest to the fridge?”

“Why the fuck—”

You sigh and begin to set the cushions back where they belong, placing the elephant gingerly at the center of the couch. “Just check.”

Bucky’s grumbles as he passes by, his scoffs of disbelief, and sighs of annoyance are ignored until you hear his every noise abruptly end as he stares at the cabinet he is now standing before.

“Find ‘em?”

There are equal parts shock, fear, and exasperation over his features. He slams the cabinet shut. “You’re a witch, aren’t you? Some kind of freaky, all knowing witch?”

“Yes. Do you have your wallet?”

A pat on each of his pockets, then one against his ass— despite not having a pocket there. He bares his teeth for a moment. “You wanna tell me where that is, too?”

“Can I get three guesses this time?”

“Two,” he states, leaning against the counter. “Impress me.”

“First of all, I couldn’t give half a shit about impressing you.” Bucky snorts at that. “It’s either in the freezer—”

He opens the freezer and the next thing you hear is a loud, “Ha! Whoo! You’re wrong!”

“I have another guess.”

He visibly deflates, smug smile wiped clean. “Yeah, yeah. Go on.”

“Counter of your bathroom, in the pocket of whatever jeans you wore to class.”

You run a few steps behind his long strides to the bathroom and stand in the doorway as he fishes through the pile of dirty clothes beside the sink.

He thinks he might hate the smile you’re wearing when he pulls his wallet from the depths of denim, but he can’t bring himself to hate it— he feels quite the opposite about it, actually. It’s worth the inevitable gloating and the crazy accurate interpretation of a celebratory dance you saw a football player you can’t remember the name of do after a touchdown.

You’re laughing when he brushes past you to walk to the door and grin as you pass him so he can lock it behind you. “What would you do without me, Buck?”

He honestly doesn’t know.

—

Your laughter captures Bucky’s attention. Delighted, excited, and entirely too loud.

He’s been nursing a red Solo cup of lukewarm supermarket-brand cola for about two hours now.

It’s disgusting. Watered-down now that the ice has melted, but still too sweet and a little flat. He would’ve liked to cut it with the bitterness of anything alcoholic, but he can’t.

He’s designated driver tonight, after all. The miserable result of a miserable coin toss.

He’d suggested thumb wrestling— but you weren’t having it. Something about his thumb being far larger than yours, giving him an unfair advantage. Almost as if you’d known he’d chosen thumb wrestling for that precise reason.

So he’s spent the night pouting.

Complaining.

Glowering at anyone that dares to make conversation with him.

Because he hates the cheap soda Steve buys. He hates the sticky counters Sam waits hours to wipe down. And he hates hearing underclassmen talk about how hot you are when your ping pong ball skates over the rim of one of Natasha’s cups.

But he smiles at the sound of your laughter. At the way you grin, all smug and victorious. It lights up otherwise glossy eyes, drunken giggles growing clumsy as Natasha frowns down at a cup matching his.

“You gotta drink it down, babe!” You lean your hip against the plastic table set up in the kitchen and purse your lips when Natasha fishes the beer-soaked ball from her cup to toss at your shoulder. “Poor sportsmanship is unbecoming on you.”

Natasha rolls green eyes over the top of the cup, chugging its contents easily. “Just like cockiness is on you.”

“Let’s not lie to ourselves, Nat.” Natasha is already struggling against a smile. “We all know cockiness is dead sexy on me.”

Beside Bucky, Sam laughs. He raises his hands in innocence and surrender when Natasha shoots him a glare. “Not pickin’ sides, that was just funny.”

“You’re not picking your girlfriend’s side automatically?” is Bucky’s question asked in a voice exaggeratedly naïve. He grins lopsidedly as he takes a sip of soda only to retch as it goes down. “That’s brave.”

You watch as Natasha pitches her next shot over the rim of one of four remaining cups. You send Bucky a smile as you retrieve it. “Bucky was always on my side when we were together.”

His devious smile is like a secret between the two of you. He hums in agreement. “Blindly.”

“Loyally.” You hold the cup at your lips, stomach and cheeks warm from three hours of generous beer and mixed drink helpings. Your next swallow goes down with a shudder.

“I’d root against myself for her.”

“S’more pathetic than loyal,” Sam snorts only to earn a squeak of indignation and an empty cup to the chest in response. Despite purported offense, he chuckles at your delighted laughter and quickly sobers to point a stern finger. “Makin’ a mess of my kitchen like this. Rogers’ll kill you.”

In challenge, you cock an eyebrow. “He’ll kill you first when he sees all the candy missing from his secret stash.”

“Barnes ate all that.”

Bucky’s stomach flips at the way you tilt your head and narrow your eyes, at the soft flutter of your eyelashes, the promise in your voice when you say, “Blind loyalty, Sammy. That isn’t the story I’ll tell Steve.”

“You aren’t even dating anymore.”

You wave a dismissive hand. “I’ll always be on Bucky’s side. Plus if I go down, I’m taking you with me.”

Pointedly at a glowering Sam, Bucky tears the wrapper of a fun-size Twix bar and takes as big a bite as the small bar will allow.

There’s caramel in his teeth and smug satisfaction in his eyes as he stuffs the gold foil into the pocket of Sam’s bomber jacket, laughing when the latter slaps his hand away.

What feels like a lifetime passes and Bucky waits until you’ve completed a second game— this time defeated by a furious and candy-less Steve— to Irish goodbye.

It’s his signature.

He hasn’t said a proper goodbye to anyone in years.

Your drunkenness, however, foils his plan. You insist on pressing kisses to the forehead of each of your friends— lingering a bit longer for Sam just to earn a snort from Natasha— and you tap the fishbowl housing a temperamental turquoise Betta fish named Marcel twice as you couldn’t just exclude Marcel and hurt his feelings. You even leave them with an ominous, “I hope we will all meet again.”

He lets you climb onto his back when you stumble out of his car to your building, tripping over the four-inch block heel of your boots, and soon the elevator stall is filled with your humming. Unintelligible, entirely out of tune. And you swing your legs. Dysrhythmic, offbeat.

He smiles when you set your chin upon the crown of his head, his hold on you tightening as the metallic doors slide open on the eighth floor. He feels the deep breath you take against his back, his attention drawn away from the short walk down the hall when your feather-like fingertips trace his jaw.

Nails skimming over the bristly hairs of his stubbly beard to the hidden divot in his chin, you— already flush against him— attempt to push yourself even closer. And huff in disappointment when you’re unable to.

You feel him come to a stop. “Sweetheart?”

A short hum, this time in question.

“I gotta unlock the door.”

You open your eyes slowly, blink away some of the drowsiness. You think offhandedly that the pale yellow door could use a fresh coat of paint. “I’ll do it.” You hold out a hand and wiggle your fingers. “Keys?”

“In my left pocket.” He chuckles when your right hand slides down the incorrect side. “Other left.”

You heave a deep sigh, your other hand slipping into his left pocket to feel around. The jingle of keys is muted by your triumphant shout, fingers sorting through the bundle of steel to find the one semi-coated in bright pink nail polish. You decide that should be repainted first lest the two of you mix up your keys again.

Bucky watches as you attempt to stretch enough to reach the doorknob, jolting each time you urge yourself forward. He grins when you whimper pathetically. “You can ask me to move closer.”

The arm still wrapped around his neck tightens a bit and you press your cheek to the roughness of his. You strain toward the door once more in stubborn perseverance, then knock your heels against the side of his thighs. He laughs at the growl in his ear.

“Ask me verbally. I’m not a horse.”

“Got the name of one,” you mumble, crossing your ankles at his waist as he grips you harder. “Longer you stand there refusing to move, the longer you have-ta hold me up.”

“Been lifting with Steve. I’m content to stand here all night.”

“What, trying to get that post-breakup revenge body?”

“Gotta do something to fill all my new free time.”

A hiccup punctuates your giggles and Bucky feels you straighten before leaning back ever so slightly.

Suddenly, you jerk forward with all of your might, sending Bucky lurching to the door. He has to remove a hand from your legs to steady himself against the wall, breath shallow and heart in his ears when he notices he’s only centimeters from smashing into the wood. “Hey!”

You, still holding on, shush him as you slip the key into the brass latch, whispering, “Our neighbors are sleeping.”

Once you’re able to throw the door open and Bucky walks inside, you detangle your ankles and leap to the floor as the lights flicker on. You laugh when your knees very nearly buckle, fingers gripping the edge of the kitchen counter under a wave of lightheadedness. Your stomach flips and every trace of humor fades. “Yikes.”

Bucky, halfway through removing the leather jacket he’d worn over a black hoodie, watches as you lay your torso across the counter. He smiles when you press your cheek to the cool marble, his laughter mingling with the groans that leave your lips.

Your muffled grumble sounds vaguely like, “Oh, shut up.”

His steps are slow and quiet. He offers you an apologetic smile when you startle at his touch, brushing stray strands of hair from your shut eyes. He wrinkles his nose at your answering scowl, watching as glassy eyes still filled with such potent brightness narrow in an attempt at intimidation. “Need a lift to your bathroom?”

You shake your head. Propping yourself up onto your forearms, you nod toward your room. “It’ll be too shaky. Maybe just guide me there?”

His fingers lace through yours and he tugs you upright. He doesn’t mind supporting the weight of you, doesn’t care that he has to dodge the books and shoes you’ve left littered over your bedroom floor.

Your bathroom light is switched on and you pull away from Bucky to take quick, stuttering steps to the toilet. He winces to himself when you fall to your knees, your trembling hands clamoring to push the seat cover up.

As you feel that maybe your stomach has turned itself inside out, Bucky gathers your hair in one hand and holds you close to his chest with the other— just in case you need the support. Until then, though, he rubs comforting circles which warm you even through the satin fabric of your shirt.

“Twix and beer are a horrible combination coming up,” you remark, voice rough, minutes later. You’re seated against him once you’ve thoroughly emptied your system, head falling back onto his shoulder. “That last game of beer pong was a mistake.”

He feels your breath wash over his skin and, despite how perfectly okay he would be with sitting there for hours, turns his head away. “Sweetheart, I want to be here for you but— but I can’t when your breath smells like that.”

Stunned pause, and you burst into laughter. Tired hands are used as leverage and you stand, boots long ago removed and thrown aside. You send him a smile over your shoulder and roll your eyes but face the sink as he grins dopily back. “You’re weak, Barnes.”

He meets your playful gaze in the mirror and, at the sight of pooled dried mascara underlining your eyes and the thin layer of sweat spread over the bridge of your nose, he forces himself to take a steadying breath. “You have no idea. Hungry?”

Loading your toothbrush with translucent paste, you shrug. “Maybe.”

“Grilled cheese or pancakes?”

“If I say both, will you judge me?”

“I just held your hair back while you threw up a keg’s worth of beer and you’re afraid I’ll start to judge you now?”

You smile as you scrub your teeth in rapid strokes. “There was some vodka in there, too.”

Shoulder leant against the doorframe, his eyes are alight. “My mistake. Anything else you’d like while I’m at it?”

“Some ibuprofen?” you ask after spitting the foam from your mouth. “I’m all out here.”

A frown of consideration, and he nods. “Will that be all?”

“Yes, I believe it will be.” Before he can walk out, you call his name. “What would I do without you?”

He honestly hopes you’ll never have to find out.

CHAPTER 3: GETTING BACK IN THE GAME

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes college au #a8c

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carefulvenom · 5 years

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Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Natasha had pushed you away recently and she just can’t seem to leave your mind, and neither can the question of what you did wrong.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Angsty and emotional. Cigarettes (?) There’s some bad language words in here as well.

A/N: y’all...i’m sorry i suck, but i wrote something. it’s terrible. welcome to hell. also there may or may not be a happy ending!

The air is thin and cold tonight.

It’s dark and the day is over. Sure, work is good and it tends to boost my mood. People like me. I make good money and it's a distraction. But now that it’s Friday, I can’t help but think about how quickly my mood changes with the night. Walking out of the office doors remind me that there’s a whole other world of thoughts and feelings outside of the work I take pride in. Maybe I never did feel good. Maybe I just got good at pretending.

As I walk outside in the darkness with my cold hands clenched inside my coat pockets, I think of her. The one who I never expected to share my feelings with. She's the one who I never expected to have such a beauty that the smell of her lingers in my nose and I have to stop myself from going insane. Think I might not be doing a very good job at that, since being apart from someone so alluring like that is like being homesick. She's that someone, the one everyone never expects to sweep them off their feet - as cheesy as it is. It's her.

Natasha.

Her fiery red hair that makes me wanna sing, “Come on baby, light my fire.”

The cute smile and laughs she gives when she stops the cold deadpan every once and awhile. I always wonder if she only brightens up because of me. Was I such a strong connection that I helped her forget about all the weight of the world she carries on her shoulder?

There’s a possibility that I think too much.

Maybe after our talks in my apartment, cuddled up on that L shape couch staring at the stars out the window, she knew I was one she could trust. That even though our experience is nothing similar, the pain is. Maybe that's why she got soft on me. I notice a big smile creep on my lips. I wish she was here to stand on her tippie toes to squeeze my cheeks and peck my lips with a giggle, like she always did.

“Your smile is just too cute, I have to kiss it.” She'd say, with that soft, sultry voice. I'd stare down at her in adoration. She'd probably say she could see the love in my eyes.

But why'd she pull away? Why'd she stop? Why did she obviously want me to leave?

I shake my head violently to get rid of the thought. I don't wanna think about that anymore. Maybe I should try to stop thinking about her entirely if she didn't even try to talk to me.

The harsh coldness of the air seems to crack in my lungs when I inhale, and the steady exhale of my breath steams the air. I look up to the stars as my right hand pulls out my smokes from my pocket and the left takes one out and places it in between my lips. I light my cigarette as I start walking to the train. As soon as I get home I know I'll pour myself some wine and look out the floor-to-ceiling window. That window. Yeah, like something out of a movie. Picturesque with a sense of longing. If I look at the situation like a cinematic masterpiece maybe it won't hurt as much. Separate myself from the real.

Natasha and I, we'd never called it official, but it was. We’d known each other for a while, I met her when I came into her office on a sales call. It started off soft, but strong. Little glances and wary touches, grazing of finger tips. There was undeniable attraction there. I’d finally came back into her job two days later, and asked her out. That took balls, and it was way out of character for me, but I knew that red headed woman with the alluring voice and plump lips was worth it. Rest was history.

5 weeks together was all it took to feel this strong. We were just us, and we felt comfortable in each other's grips. We laughed, and cried. We both felt that anxious warmth in our belly as we became more acquainted, and the feeling got worse as we were apart. Sometimes when she left the apartment I'd sit on the floor and lean my head up against the door. It all happened so fast, and maybe that's just because of the same-sex hormones in the air, but it was so god damned real. It still is.

Until 2 weeks ago, she pulled away. She didn't call, she didn't answer my texts. I'd pace around the nearly empty apartment and stare the vacant space on the couch next to me. Looking at our messages was painful since I looked a fool, with my questions and lingering. I gave up after a few times. As my last hope, I waited for her to come with her choice of take out and a movie on Friday night - tradition - but she never showed. And that L shaped couch got even bigger and lonelier.

I arrive at the station and put my cigarette out in the smoker's post. I fix my hat over my hair, take a deep breath, and check my phone. It's 6:39 and the train arrives at 6:45.

“Nice,” I mutter to myself. “Home.” I sigh, and pull my hat over my eyes as I sit down on the nearest bench. It's nowhere near comfortable, but it's familiar. Finding solace in a routine is a smart idea if you feel string out and lost in the universe. That's why I like to clean the apartment in a certain way, start with paperwork first at the office, and wake up at the same time every day. That's why it was a bad idea to have a movie night with Nat every Friday. Should've known.

A loud grinding and screeching from a bit away seems to snap me out of my thoughts. My hand finds its way to the top of my hat, pulling it up so my eye can peek cautiously out. Got a habit of being either too careful or too careless. Standing up, I fix my hat and check my pockets for everything, and wait until the train comes to a stop to get on to the top level.

Train rides are the best part of my day, when I'm out. The scenery isn't the best, but it's still nice to look at as it speeds by and I rest my head back into the seat, legs stretched out in front me. I take my year pass out of my pocket and place it on the small table in front of me, available for the workers to check it while I put my hat back over my eyes and try to rest.

---

My internal clock, or rather, my comfort in routine, wakes me up just in time before I hear my stop being called. I mistakenly pull my hat off my eyes too quickly, forgetting that the brightness of the lights will burn my eyes. I wipe them quick, stretch my neck, and grab my pass. Almost home.

The steps down from the upper level of the train and then on to the platform seem to speed past me. Before I know it, I’m on the pavement walking quickly away, cold air blasting my face. My place is close to this station, so I don’t need to call a cab. My steps are quick, they always have been. I walk with a purpose, always needing to go fast so I don’t wait around. Nat always joked that it looked like I was making a “death strut” and I was “ready to kill.” I’d reply with some dirty joke about killing that ass. Shaking my head, I can’t help but chuckle to myself. I probably look like a fool, but I sure make myself laugh.

The door to my apartment complex is always tricky, but I get it unlocked moderately fast with my shivering hands. I make my way down the main hall and press the up button on the elevator. Taking off my hat and smoothing down my hair, I wait eagerly for the creaky old elevator to come. It’s funny, really, my apartment is modern and polished but this damn elevator is an old thing that brings screeching with every movement. It’ll probably crash sometime soon. Suppose it gives the building character.

The elevator slowly, and loudly, brings me to the 8th floor. One floor away from having a loft, I suppose. I make it out of the elevator alive and make a beeline for apartment 8C, keys jangling in my hand. Turning it slowly, I finally get inside the apartment. I kick my shoes off and throw my keys and hat on the foyer table to my left. Letting out a much needed exasperated sigh, I run my hands through my hair and stare straight in front of me. That big window, and that goddamned couch. It sure is a pretty view, seeing the stars twinkle and the building light in the dark with an occasional plane fly by. There’s a silence in the air and my mind, surprisingly, and I shake my head. Wine time.

My sock covered feet feel good on the hardwood floor as I stretch my arms above my head and start my walk to the kitchen. I pull out my phone and open it, wanting to put on some soft but still upbeat music to set the mood for getting weekend wine drunk. I reach the kitchen with my eyes still staring at my phone, grazing my Spotify library for something perfect. Wanna set the mood nice enough, wanna feel b-

I hear a throat being cleared.

“Hey, stranger.” I hear a familiar voice break the silence. I nearly jumped out of my skin and dropped my phone, with a gasp and a hand up to my mouth.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” Natasha nearly whispers, with a somber expression.

I freeze up. What do I do? What do I do? My mind is screaming at me, begging me to make a move or for fucks sake, say something.

“What are you doing here?” I finally squeeze out, swallowing the lump in my throat. I examine her, the piercing eyes and full lips. She looks beautiful, of course, but I know I don’t. My heart seems to squeeze yet beat a mile a minute. That warm anxiousness in my stomach is back again. What the hell is she doing here?

“I came to see you,” she fixes her lips and smiles. “It’s Friday.”

I look at her, confused. She lifts up her arms and reveals two plastic bags full of styrofoam boxes. Take out. I know it’s movie Friday, but she missed two of them. Why is she here now? I thought she wanted space. I thought she didn’t want to be with me anymore.

I figured instead of stand still and thinking of what I want to say, I’ll sit across from her at the kitchen island, and say it. “Nat, I thought you wanted space. You withdrew from me. You didn’t answer me, you didn’t call, you didn-” my voice starts to crack.

“I know.” She cuts me off. “I’m so sorry, I can’t even begin to explain what happened.” She seems eager to talk to me but scared, and her voice speaks volumes but it’s somehow...small.

She clears her throat again. I can tell she’s about to tear up. “I had gotten terrified. I realized that the way you held me and kissed me, and the way you understood me...the way you touched me,” she gulps, and looks up at me with those stunningly sad eyes, “I loved you. I love you. And I got scared. I’ve said it before to others but I never really meant it. Which is scary, because it’s been so fast with us, but I know it’s real.” She finishes, shaky and sad. A tear falls down her cheek and she quickly wipes it away.

I grab the hand that wiped the tear, bring it down to the counter and intertwine my fingers with hers. She stares down at our hands, seemingly surprised, and moves her head up to look me in the eyes.

“Baby, I love you.” I smile brightly. The pain dissipated. “You’re amazing. I mean, I can’t really put all that,” I gesture to her body, “in words.” She giggles.

“Let alone how you make me feel,” I breathe out and shake my head in joy. “Every single thing about you, Nat. I swear.”

I wanted to continue, but she leans over the counter to kiss me. Our lips crash and I taste all the beauty and love I felt once again. I put my hands on her face, cupping her cheeks and kissing her deeply. I pull away, and stare into her eyes as I swipe my thumb across her cheek. So fucking beautiful.

She gets up and puts her hand out in front of me, asking me to take it. Intrigued, I put my hand in hers and stand up, as she walks me to the couch. I look down at her, being slightly taller than her, and I take in the beautiful red hair and her scent --gardenias. She gestures for me to sit down with her hands excitedly. She always acts like she owns this place, stealing my clothes and making all the calls. She gets it though, since she knows I have all the power in the bedroom. I chuckle to myself yet again. She plops herself in my lap, and kisses my cheek.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, the solemn, longing expression making an appearance again. “I wanna be with you. Us, together, no space.”

I tuck her hair behind her ear, and kiss it. “Space is the last thing I want from you.” I whisper, and grab her face to kiss her again. I’ve been waiting for this. I needed this. I needed her.

As she pulls away and looks at me, biting her lip, a question arises in my mind. “How did you get in here? The door was locked.”

“Fire escape. Bedroom window.” she snickers, and licks her lips. “Beautiful as ever, babe.” she whispers and gently starts kissing my neck. I gasp and throw my head back, and as I open my eyes, I see the view out of the window.

----

tags: @obrreogneon, @rogmobile

#nat #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #my writing #eeeeee im nervous

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