#which is while I’ll just sit in my tiny corner and daydream my own stuff

[mousetrappart]

About the dlc I’m sorry, I just? Really don’t understand how emmet could be in it? Like just from a game making aspect and gamefreak’s trend of storytelling it’s never been a possibility in my mind.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Study Dates – (Remus Lupin xF!Reader)

A/N: For plot purposes this is a muggle!au Also I just discovered how to make this stuff tiny and i love it -Danny

Words: 2,256

Warnings: Brief mentions of smut?? Remus daydreaming about being naughty.

Listen to: ‘Teenage Dirtbag’ -by Wheatus

Twoidiots Masterlist

Her name is Noelle I have a dream about her She rings my bell I got gym class in half an hour

“Are you listening to me?”

Remus gives a start, he looks back at Sirius, who looks mildly offended. The boy mutters an apology that his friend is quick to brush aside.

“Why do I even try? I know exactly where you’re mind is...” 

Both boys look over at Y/N.

You’re in the same year and Remus has been crushing on you for the longest time. He doesn’t even remember the first time he felt this way about someone, it’s almost like he’s always been in love with you.

You’re across the hall with Lily Evans, laughing and braiding your hair, which never fails to make Remus an utter fool.

He’s never talked to you. He’s never seen you outside the school either, so he has no idea of what you like or what your hobbies are, but he’d like to know, you’re the prettiest, coolest girl he’s ever laid his eyes on.

He wonders how soft the strands are, how would they feel wrapped around his hand while he pulls her closer and—

Oh, how she rocks In Keds and tube socks But she doesn't know who I am And she doesn't give a damn about me

“Mate!” Sirius elbows him hard. Remus comes out of his reverie and looks back at the boy.

“What?” He snaps.

“I said you should just ask her out,” Sirius crosses his arms. “This is pathetic, Moony. It was funny during our first year, but if I catch you drifting away from another conversation because of Y/N, I’ll have to ask her out for you.”

Remus scoffs, he turns away to face his locker and not you, which he considers is a real bloody shame.

“Are you coming to gym class or are you meeting some stranger inside a broom closet?” He asks just to distract Sirius. “May I remind you this is the fourth class you miss?”

“No need, I keep perfect count,” Sirius smirks. “But nah, I think today I’ll attend class... dunno, might even find it entertaining with you and James ogling at Evans and L/N.”

Nothing interesting happens during gym class, nor during lunch, nor during History. Remus finds himself sick to the core of the same routine he’s had for a whole year, he wants to be different, wishes he could be loud and spontaneous like Sirius and James, maybe that way he would get invited to parties, maybe you’d know his name if that were the case.

It really is pathetic, how his gaze lingers on you when you walk by, how he perks up at the sound of your voice, the way colours seem brighter around you... he does his best to not be a creep, he’s never followed you around or anything, most of the times he runs into you by mere accident. Remus’ got no idea why he’s so deeply infatuated with you, part of him would love to call it ‘fate’, he’d love to say you’re his soulmate or something like that, but he knows better.

He’s just a sad loser.

Two weeks after Sirius unkind pep talk, Remus gathers enough courage to sit next to you in the library. You don’t even register his presence at first, which is normal since you haven’t registered his existence in a whole year, so why would today be any different?

However, something happens when you stop reading and take a moment to clear your mind:

Cause I'm just a teenage dirtbag baby Yeah, I'm just a teenage dirtbag baby Listen to Iron Maiden baby with me Ooohoo Hoo Hooooooo

Remus sees you out of the corner of his eye when you notice him, you freeze on the spot, arms halfway up. He wants to look up and see what kind of expression is on your face, he feels the way your demeanour changes and frowns, eyes fixed on his own book. What if you recognized him? Oh God, what if you know he’s got a crush on you?

He starts to think of how to escape the place quickly without making it obvious, but then you speak.

“Hi... er—excuse me?” Your voice is as sweet as always, and he doesn’t look up at first, so you raise your voice a little. “Hello, Remus?”

His eyes widen almost comically. Well, he can’t ignore you now, can he? not when you just said his bloody name. Remus looks up at you with a sort of startled expression, his eyebrows are still knitted together and you can’t help but grin a little.

“Sorry,” You say, “I don’t know if you know... well, we have classes together and I noticed you’re doing our math assignment... oh, this is so silly—it’s okay if you say no, but I know you’re one of the best students in that class and I was wondering if maybe... you’d help me?”

Remus stares at you for half a second before his brain restarts.

“Y-Yes!” He says, clearing his throat to sound calm and collected and not at all like the complete pile of pudding he feels on the inside. “I... Yeah, I’ve seen you in class—How can I help you?”

You beam at his response, he gives a start when you stand up abruptly from your chair only to circle the table and sit right next to him, Remus prays he’s not as red as he feels.

“You’re telling me Y/N was the one who... she just came up to you?”

“Yeah... and she’s nice,” Remus says quietly. “Nice and brilliant... we sat there talking until Madam Pince kicked us out.”

“I can’t believe it,” Sirius snorts. “You lucky bastard.”

“Sirius...”

“No, really,” He insists. “If it’d been up to you, it would’ve taken you another week to just ask for a pencil or some rubbish like that—”

“Enough, Padfoot,” James intervenes. “Leave him alone, can’t you see he’s in distress?”

Remus frowns at that. “What the hell do you mean?”

“Look at you mate, I can tell you spent the whole night up,” The boy snorts. “Y/N asked you out and you’re losing it.”

“I’m not losing it!” He replies. “She didn’t ask me out, she’s just coming to my house to study.”

“Exactly, she’s going to your house,” Sirius starts explaining. “Instead of inviting you to her house, probably because her parents are strict or she has siblings or something. She wants privacy, you see?”

“Padfoot, stop.”

“Don’t play dumb, Prongs,” He smirks. “We all know that’s the way girls flirt, by asking for some private tutoring. Why didn’t she ask Lily? She’s top of the class in everything!”

“That’s... that’s true,” James raises a brow. “Blimey, Moony, it does sound like a date.”

How did he not think of that? Why would you ask him, when he’s not even in the top three, he’s five at most!

“Hey, don’t lose your cool now!” James grabs him by the shoulders. “You’re getting a date out of this even if it’s the last thing we do.”

“I never asked for your help, though,” Remus replies in amusement.

“Oh, but you need it!” Sirius puts an arm around the boy’s shoulders. “She won’t know what hit her, one moment she’ll be like ‘Remus is such a gentleman’ and the next she’ll be begging you to kiss her—”

Remus snorts and shakes his head, as the trio walks out of the building he catches a glimpse of your profile as you follow Marlene and Lily to the opposite street. His smile grows at the thought of spending a whole afternoon alone with you. Maybe Sirius and James are right, there might be a way he can make you fall for him.

Oh yeah, dirtbag No, she doesn't know what she's missing Oh yeah, dirtbag No, she doesn't know what she's missing

When you knock on his door the third day you meet to study, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. His clothes feel stupid, his hair doesn’t look right, and his mood drops when you enter looking perfect.

He’s an idiot, he has to be. It doesn’t matter what he thought three days ago, you’re some kind of godly being and he’s... he’s rubbish. You’re like one of those beautiful birds he sees during spring and he’s the raccoon that lives in the alleyway next to his house.

And sure, you have fun together, you seem to like him enough to invite him to the movies next Friday with the rest of your friends, and he’s never been invited anywhere unless James and Sirius take him with them. This is a nice change, still, he’s pretty sure you’re only being nice to him because he’s helping you with school.

Fortunately for him, you don’t stop that afternoon to examine his looks before entering his house. You’re apologizing for your ten minutes delay, but half of it goes unheard since he’s too busy making sure the drawing-room isn’t too messy before he guides you in.

He wants to impress you, although he’s well aware that his house is nothing out of the ordinary and you’ve seen it before anyway. If anything it’s quite below average, but once again you don’t even hesitate when you sit down on the couch and place your backpack on your lap, looking up at him.

Man I feel like mould It's prom night and I am lonely Lo and behold She's walking over to me

“So...” You start, “I think we should talk before we start?”

Remus looks around the room before realizing you sat on his books.

“Er...” He shyly signals towards you. “Could you... you sat on my stuff.”

“What?” You ask without understanding, then he leans over to pull the edge of his book and you jump up, rambling a new bunch of apologies when you accidentally step on his foot.

There’s a brief moment when the both of you are apologizing, although neither of you knows exactly why. It doesn’t matter, what matters is that you're both a mess and you’re not sure how this happened, but it’s obvious that today is not like the other days, something feels different.

This is ridiculous, and you might as well just shoot your shot before any of you accidentally sets the house on fire in an attempt to look cool.

“I have a confession to make,” Y/N states.

“You don’t have to say it,” Remus adds, even nervous he can’t help being a gentleman. “I mean, if you just talked to me so you could get to know James or Sirius—”

“What?” You frown. “No! I... I was going to say...”

Remus looks at you, he’s got his whole attention on your person and it makes your voice die down. He doesn’t know how he knows it, maybe he’s been wishing for so long to be tied to you by something more than just attraction that he brought it to life. As your voice dies, he knows exactly what you’re trying to tell him.

That’s all he’s been dreaming to tell you for months, but now that he’s done it he realizes Sirius was right, this wasn’t a big deal at all. It’s a little surprising how little it scares him. Doesn’t mean he’ll break into a million pieces if you laugh at him, though.

This must be fake My lip starts to shake How does she know who I am? And why does she give a damn about me?

“Y/N,” Remus starts. “I like you.”

However, all you do is walk up to him until you’re inches away, cup a side of his face and speak in a very soft voice:

“I’m so glad you said that,” You sigh in relief. “Lily said I’d have to throw myself on you in order for you to take the hint. She thinks you’re quite oblivious, you know? I mean, I asked you out the other day and all you said was ‘Thanks’.”

Remus doesn’t know what to reply to that, so he does the second best thing he can think of: He kisses you.

It’s so good, he can’t recall a single thing in his life that’s ever felt as good as your lips. Then your hands go up to his hair and he can think of one, his hand travels under your jumper while the other finally brushes against your hair and he thinks of two more, soon enough he discovers a whole world of new sensations he can’t wait to memorize.

“Are your parents home?” You mumble against his mouth.

“No,” His heart jumps at the thought, he moves away to see you. “Are you... do you want..?”

“Didn’t you say your room has a lovely view of the moon?” You smile wickedly, grabbing him by the belt and starting to walk backwards. “I’d love to see it.”

Remus blushes at your suggestion, but he’s a fast learner.

“It’s too early to see it,” He replies. “However, I might be able to make you see stars if you give me a few minutes...”

His reply drives you crazy and it shocks you, but you have to play it cool. After all, Remus is too perfect to rush your first time with him.

“Just a few minutes?” You tease.

Remus picks you up in a sudden movement and you let out a short squeal, wrapping your arms around his neck as he peppers your face with kisses.

“Don’t be eager,” He tickles your side. “We have a lifetime to try it all... if you want us to, of course.”

You stare at his bright and loving gaze, he looks comfortable in his own skin for once, confident even.

“Well, I’m pretty sure this isn’t how first dates usually go,” You joke, making him chuckle. “So you owe me a proper date—Which means that yes, I do want this... all of this. I want you.”

Remus nods once before kissing you again, carrying you all the way up to his room. He feels a bit sad for James and Sirius, they were looking forward to helping him get a girlfriend—on a good note, he’ll have very good news to tell his friends next Monday.

I'm just a teenage dirtbag baby like you Ooohoo Hoo Hooooooo

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[withoneheadlight]

ok i saw this cap of zoë kravitz in hf and she's got such a dreamy expression, she looks so deeply self-absorbed and infatuated by whatever she's imagining and those lines. and i couldn't stop picturing billy exactly like that for days so,

,

There’s a pretty unusual sound coming off the house when Max comes back home, that summer afternoon.

Full volume. Walls shaking. And she quietly walks to the source of the sound, holding back her breath right in front of Billy's room because, there's this second sound? Stranger and way more unsettling and Max's not sure-sure at first but then Steve Perry’s voice takes off and Billy’s follows it and then he's like, singing along and. Well. Max did know Billy liked Journey but not like, their 'stuff for pussies' but uhm, he does, apparently. Rasps his voice all the way through ‘Faithfully’. Kind of, sighs. Longingly? When it ends? But pfff, ok, big brothers are weird. Definitely weirder after being possessed and then kind of resurrected. Even if it's in a good-weird way but, whatever. So Max's just about to sneak to her room, dutifully rolling her eyes, steps muffled by the first chords of 'Edge of the blade' when―

Click. Click. Billy stops the tape. Click. Takes it out. Tap. Tap. Click. Puts on― Billy puts. On,

Heaven.

Bryan Adams’ Heaven.

And Max―

Being a younger sister is a meticulous kind of full-time, private detective job. You gotta learn how the person you’ve been watching so carefully for years and years works. Hafta develop some sort of―sense about your target. And Billy’s been—un-Billy-like? These past two months. Smiling more. Telling more jokes. Playing ‘You shook me all night long’ in a loop on their drive to school and back, not complaining at all but even joining when’s Max who can’t help but sing along so.

So. She retraces her steps. Knocks. Takes the distracted grunt she gets as a ‘Yeahyeah, c’mon in c’mon in’ and,

Creak. Creak. ‘―baby you’re all that I want’

“Billy?”

Billy’s sitting cross-legged on the floor. Radio close to his knees. Cassettes scattered everywhere. Piles and piles of breakwater surrounding Billy’s old, rusty beacon of sound. He’s reading through the song-list of one of the tapes, a smoke locked on the corner of his mouth, bouncing up and down with every little, absent suck he takes, and he looks. He looks―

Self-absorbed and even. Relaxed. Happy. Like whatever he’s thinking about right now is actually carrying his thoughts away to fucking heaven.

“Ehh”

“Uh-hu?”

‘When you’re lying here in my arms!’

“Billy are you. What―” ‘I'm findin' it hard to believe. We're in heaven’ “What are you doing?”

But there’s this orbit around the sun and then there’s whatever one Billy's been spinning along with the last couple of months so he completely ignores her question. Shakes the tape on his left hand. Picks another one from the pile on his right. Asks her.

“Is Billy Ocean too much? ‘Cause I think it’s too much. But it kind of fits into what I'm trying to say so” he says, shrugs, looking up at Max and waiting for the answer of what she realizes was not really a question. Not at all. So she does her little sister job and just, nods “Right. That’s good. I think it’ll slide just nicely into Bruce Springsteen and―”

“Billy” Max insists, waiting for the charm of the third time to work. It doesn’t. Not really. But keeps Billy's eyes on her long enough to squeeze an “A mixtape?” And, uh. That’s what gets it on. The charm “Are you making a mixtape?”

“Uh?”

And it’s like Max just shook Billy out of a daydream. Ash plopping down from his cigarette as his lips try but can’t purse and Max― she’s good. She’s stellar at this detective thing. Recognizes an opening the moment she sees it, right there in front of her, frozen in the middle of shaking Billy Ocean and Bruce Springsteen in the air right before cocktailing them together. Shaken, not stirred, please. Max’s upgraded to James Bond-level just right now.

“You’re making a mixtape for someone”

“Oh-nonoMaxi―”

“But you didn’t have those tapes before. Not even in your secret stash”

“How do yo―?”

“Holy. ShIT. You’ve been listening to somebody else’s music” This is. Oh, God. This. Is. GOLD. Max gotta take a moment. Blink. Breathe. Process. Her hands move by themselves, palms spread toward Billy in a wait-a-minute kind of gesture except. Max’s gonna need way more than a minute for this “You’ve accepted a music recommendation”

“Maaaaax”

“Gosh, you’ve even listened to the tapes enough to. Make―”

“Max!”

“I just can’t believe it”

And Max was glad. Well. As glad as one can be. Bunch weeks ago. Her mom and Neil out for the day. Coming back home a little earlier than she usually does to hear those ugh. Those other noises. Happy screams. Again. After months and months of Billy being basically alone except for her and the party and Steve. And Max’s so glad, of course she is. But she’s also a little sister. And all this investigation work has a high, rightful purpose.

Make her big brother’s life a living. Hell.

“Oh my god, you must be so gone!” Max brings her hands to her mouth. Takes a deep, deep breath that’s more a poorly restrained giggle. Shoots her index at him “Is it Bon Jovi? What I’m seeing right there? Goddam, Billy are you in lo―”

Bam.

Bam. Bam!

The front door.

What a way to spoil the fun. Max doesn’t have time for this. She’s working.

“BILLY?” comes a voice from the other side “Billy are you in there?”

Steve.

Oh.

What a way to make the fun a hundred times better.

Bam.Bam.Bam!

She’s starting to move to get to the door, sinsonging “Well, I guess Steve’s gonna find out you’re so stupid in love you’re willingly listening to―” when she realizes Billy’s eyes have widened and he’s jerkingly trying to unfreeze, he’s mumbling something in around his already extinguished cigarette in the ways of “Can’t” and “Find out” and “Surprise” and “Fucking help me!” While literally trying to shove the huge mass of tapes under his bed, his tone like hurryhurryhurry!, like he would start gagging and throwing his lungs out at any given minute, so nervous he looks.

So Max doesn’t go for the door. Yet. She basks in the enjoyment.

“Oh, is it a secret romance or something?” She sighs happily, leaning against the doorframe instead. “‘Cause you look pretty worried”

Steve’s banging the door now, voice wavering a little as he asks-shouts “Billy? Billy answer me! Hey, bab―Are you ok?”

“Max, please” Billy begs. Begs. Crawling over to where a Madonna’s Like a virgin is laying with the tape looping slightly out “He really can’t find out”

“What? That you’re in lo-o-oh-oh-OH―”

Billy stops at the tone, right there on his knees. Spits his forgotten cig to the side. And in the instant it seems to take him to make up his mind they both can hear Steve shout “Ok. I know you’re in there!. I’m coming in now!!”

“Fuck! Yeah. I am. Ok?” he looks like he just realized he’s tripped. Blushes. “Making it, I mean”

BAM!

And Ohhhhhhh.

Zero-fucking-zero-fucking-seven.

“Steve,” Max gasps. Because. Hear it makes it like. Easier. To process “You. And Steve”

B A M!

“Yeah, Max, Yeah. And this is a fucking surprise and he’s gonna―”

‘I've been waitin' for so long. For somethin' to arrive. For love to come along’

Ok. Oh. Okok.

“Door!” Max hastens him.

“What?”

“You. Door. Run!” She commands, and Billy― sometimes Max can’t honestly understand how he's got the grades he's got, because Billy blinks, looks clueless “C’mon slow ass. Hurry! I’ll hide all this shit”

And Billy finally gets it. Nods. Slow. Then fast. Stumbles up. Literally runs, to get to the door.

Max still gets to hear his labored “Fuck, pretty boy. “That was really hardcore of you. That's how bad you wanted to see me?” And Steve's own breathless “Really?” Before pushing Billy's room door close with her back, and kneeling on the floor to check for stray, incriminating cassettes.

Pretty boy. Maybe Max isn't as clever as she thought she is. Or hasn’t been doing her job right, clearly.

It's when she’s making ‘It’s a kind of magic’ disappear into the rest of the pile that she lays eyes on it. The case. The J-card written almost all the way down to the B-side already. A mixture of songs Billy's heard so many times there are parts where his tapes screech, and others she'd bet her life he wouldn’t have deigned to listen to. Not ever. Definitely not because―no, for, somebody. Bowie and Cher and Cindy Lauper and Bob Seger right next to Metallica and Guns n' Roses and Meatloaf and― there. There. Almost hidden in the back of the spine. A note. A tiny, thin-lettered thing Max really, really shouldn't be reading but―

‘Thanks for driving me back.

Love. Billy’

But. That's what little sisters do too, she guesses. Intrude. Annoy. Snoop. Feel this sudden rush of relief. Of happiness. When Billy laughs softly, on the other side of the door. When Steve laughs back. Maybe a tear. Or two. But just maybe. She’s really good at this little sister thing, after all.

Hopes for stellar.

,

or: that post s3 where steve lets a camaro-less billy drive him around in his own car "really? again, hargrove?" almost every single day, for months, after he comes back, because "you’re gonna perpetually stick yourself to my ass at least let me do the one thing that frikin’ calms me down" which results in steve resigning himself to deejaying in the shotgun even if "jesus, what's that shit, harrington?" "my car, my rules, sweetheart" which results in billy developing a ‘songs steve harrington is in love with’ mental playlist, realizing he’s probably a little bit in love with the way he loves them and, possibly, a little much love with steve and then stealing steve's tapes one day and,

making a mixtape about it.

(the first of a whole lot, of love letters)

[deejadabbles]

A Thousand Songs (Atem/Yami x Reader)

Chapter Two: Leave Out All The Rest

One /// Two /// Three /// Four /// [Five Coming Soon]

Summary: You knew that you and your band could make it big. Not only that, but stay together while doing it; the five of you were family, after all. The only problem was that despite all your musical talents...none of you were particularly good at lyrics. After years of struggling to put out your first full album, the solution finally made himself know in chance meeting on an empty stage.

Rock Band AU, Atem x Reader, gender neutral reader.

A.N. In case they weren't gay enough in the last chapter, Yugi and Jonouchi are boyfriends in this series <3 Is it a bit unrealistic to think they could be in a band and remain happy n healthy in their relationship? Probably. Do I care? No.

"This ain't working at all- and I told you it wouldn't!"

Yugi sighed as his beloved boyfriend tossed his phone on the table and leaned back in his metal folding chair.

Immediately, Yugi picked up the phone and handed it back to Jonouchi. "You can't dismiss them on looks alone," he scolded in a light tone.

Jou looked aghast, "He looks like he sacrifices cats on Sundays!" He waved the screen at Yugi, which displayed a bearded man who cast a purposeful scowl at the camera. He had lots of tattoos and piercings on top of the studded leather clothes, but that just made Yugi more annoyed with his boyfriend.

"People can say the exact same thing about me!" He waved a hand, encompassing his leather pants, studded belt, collar-style choker, and the tattoo on his arm.

Honda let out an unsure hum as he scrolled through his own phone, "But you're still a cinnamon roll under all that leather, Yugi, I'm not sure this guy is. Don't think he's a bad dude or anything, but I don't think he's the right fit for us," he turned his phone so everyone else sitting at the table could see, "just look at the titles of the songs he sent."

Okay, Yugi would concede that the examples the applicant had sent were a little...extreme, the title "bled like a pig" stood out in particular, but he still thought the boys were being a bit judgy.

"I think I'm gonna agree," you mumbled, "these are pretty heavy."

"You wrote a song called "we are broken" that sounds pretty heavy," Yugi countered, not unkindly though still trying to play the middleman.

"Okay, heavy isn’t the right word,” you conceded with a frown as you looked over some rather grotesque lyrics, “yup, “ edge lord ” is more fitting. Just look at the contents of the songs."

At the suggestion, Yugi scrolled down the application on his own phone, passed the profile pic and down to the bottom of the "examples of my work" section. ….okay, you guys had a point. Yugi doubted that the guy actually performed blood sacrifices, but his song style was definitely a little too demonic.

"Alright, I'll send him a thanks but no thanks note."

As Yugi brought up his email app to do just that, Anzu let out a frustrated sigh and scrubbed her hands over her face. "That was, what, the sixtieth-something application we've gone through?" she groaned, setting her phone down too, “It’s been over a month, and we haven’t gotten anywhere.”

"I still can't believe we got so many responses to our ads," Jonouchi grunted.

You set your head on your hand, expression dropping and making the dark circles under your eyes look more pronounced, "Everyone's pretty eager to join a band, now if only getting fans was as easy as getting people who wanted in on the fame prospect."

"All this work would actually be worth it if we found someone who even remotely appealed to us," Honda commented, "But everyone's just a little too…"

"Hardcore?" Anzu offered, then looked over at you, "Nah, you’re right, edge lord-y seem to fit most of them. I think that's the real thing, our band name probably makes people think we're more broody and grim than we actually are. We have plenty of darker themes in our stuff but everyone else seems to take it just a bit too far than our tastes go."

You ran a hand over your eyes, “Anyone else feel like we’ve wasted five weeks looking these applications over?”

"Hey, I'm sure we'll find someone soon though!" Yugi chimed in, a valiant attempt to elevate the mood. You and Jonouchi were always saying (much to his embarrassment) that he was everyone’s ray of sunshine, so surely he could salvage the night’s mood. “We just have to keep trying, I’m sure the right person is just around the corner!”

Anzu threw him an appreciative smile, “You’re probably right, Yugi, but I think I’m done looking for the night, it’s pretty exhausting.” She leaned back in her chair more, stretching her arms over her head.

“It’s probably a good time to call it quits now anyways,” you offered after glancing at the time, “If I hurry home now I can catch a shower before my shift starts.”

Everyone mumbled and nodded their agreements at that, followed by the five of you meandering around the room to get your stuff together. Honda offered to drive you back to your apartment like usual and everyone waved goodbye to each other in the tiny parking lot of the studio, Jou and Yugi climbing into Jou’s truck, Anzu into her beat-up car, and you and Honda zipping away on his motorbike.

It wasn’t until Yugi and Jonouchi were back at their place and Jou was cooking their dinner that Yugi realized something with great annoyance. After dumping the content of his backpack out on their bed, rifling through his desk drawer, and scouring the floor, Yugi wandered into the living room/kitchen area with a frown.

“Hey, sweetie, have you seen my adapters?”

Jonouchi looked thoughtful as he stirred the contents of the pan, “Uh, you mean the ones you use for your turntables? Haven’t seen them since the last time we rehearsed, that was what, three days ago?”

Yugi mumbled a curse under his breath, double-checking the tables and other spots he might have absentmindedly set them. Nothing. “Darn, I must have left them at the theatre yesterday.”

“Sure they aren’t in the studio?”

“No, I looked to make sure I’d have them when we rehearse tomorrow, but they weren’t there, that’s why I had it on my mind to find them when we got home.” Yugi shrugged and checked the time, thinking. After making up his mind, he grabbed his purple jacket from the armchair, “It’s okay though, if I hurry I should be able to sneak back into the theatre to get it. I think some members of the orchestra practice together tonight, and even if they aren’t the janitor should still be there.”

Yugi bounded across the tile floor as he slipped his jacket on, jumping up to place a kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek before turning to the door.

“I won’t be long, be back before dinner’s done!”

“You better,” Jonouchi called as he grabbed some spices from the cabinet, “I ain’t fixing this masterpiece for one!”

Yugi chuckled and closed the door behind him, as if he’d miss a chance to taste his boyfriend’s amazing cooking.

There was barely any need for a jacket as he walked down the sidewalk, but the vanishing sun assured that it would probably get colder by the time he was walking back home. Although their apartment was a bit far from the band’s studio, the location at least allowed Yugi easy access to his other work place: Domino City’s “Pegasus Theatre”. It was a popular spot for the upper crust of Domino, since they not only hosted ballets, but a talented orchestra as well. Yugi and Anzu both worked there, Anzu as a dancer in the ballet, and Yugi in the sound department, providing tech aid for the shows. Well, for the ballets at least, the natural design of the theatre meant that he wasn’t usually needed when the orchestra played.  

Yugi's assumption proved right and he found the door of the employee entrance unlocked. The sound of chatter greeted him as he approached the stage area, signaling that the orchestra was packing it in for the night. He took a brief glance at the stage as he walked up the rows of seats- he had to be quick, as there were only three lingerers, two chatting as they headed for the door and one quietly packing away his violin.

Yugi bounded up the narrow staircase to the sound booth, opening the door and crossing the room to the little employee cubbies. He found what he was looking for quick enough, after pushing aside his spare jacket and snack bag. The beat-up altoids case rattled, but Yugi made sure to double-check that the adapters were actually in there. They were and he sighed in relief, pushing the other contents back into the cubby before turning.

He peered out the booth's window to see if the violinist was still there, and to Yugi's surprise he was not only still in sight, but the man had actually lingered after packing away his instrument. Standing in the very center of the stage, the man was looking out at the empty seats, then trailing his eyes up to the magnificent red curtains.

Yugi smiled to himself, figuring the man was just having a moment of wonder or taking in a daydream during his moment alone, and Yugi couldn't blame him in the slightest. Yugi was slower when taking the steps down, letting the man have his moment before he ruined it by walking by.

Again though, Yugi found himself surprised. His pace slowed, the sound of a melodic voice carrying through the theatre like a wave that had Yugi stopping dead in his tracks.

I dreamed I was missing

You were so scared

But no one would listen

Cause no one else cared

After my dreaming

I woke with this fear

What am I leaving

When I'm done here?

The voice was deep, the rumble of a serene storm, almost haunting in a way.

So, if you're asking me, I want you to know

Yugi’s feet were moving before he even noticed and he soon stood on the red carpets leading to the stage.

When my time comes

Forget the wrong that I've done

Help me leave behind some reasons to be missed

And don't resent me

And when you're feeling empty

Keep me in your memory

Leave out all the rest

Leave out all the rest

The violinist stood there, lost in his own world- or rather the words of his song. His eyes were closed, listening to a chorus of instruments only he could hear as his hands moved in short but meaningful gestures.

Don't be afraid

I've taken my beating

I've shared what I've made

I'm strong on the surface

Not all the way through

I've never been perfect

But neither have you

So, if you're asking me, I want you to know

The chorus of the song came again and Yugi finally snapped out of his reverie long enough to pull out his phone. With quick thumbs he searched the beautiful lyrics he had never heard before, wondering why he didn’t know the song.

No results came up, the song was unknown.

That only got Yugi’s attention more, and he gazed back up at the man, whose voice was filling with more and more emotion with every lyric. His fist clenched at the front of his shirt, over where his heart was, eyes screwed shut as he continued to pour his heart out to the empty theatre.

Forgetting

All the hurt inside you've learned to hide so well

Pretending

Someone else can come and save me from myself

A pause, an intake of breath, and Yugi found himself hanging on to every second the man gave.

I can't be who you are...

...I can’t be who you are

The singer drew out the last lyric in a prolonged, sorrowful note; breathy as he bowed his head, the song- his raw expression, finished.

Instantly Yugi found himself clapping, bounding down the red aisle between the seats to the stage. He only felt slightly guilty when the other man jumped in fright.

“That was amazing! Your voice is amazing- that song too!”

The man (who Yugi only now noticed has a similar hairstyle to his own) stared back at him with wide eyes, body stiff.  “Uh- oh I- thank you. I...didn’t realize anyone else was here.”

The man’s speaking voice was deep too, and anyone could guess that he’d have a powerful set of pipes. Yugi was still too excited to pay the man’s nervousness much mind as he practically hopped to the foot of the stage.

“I didn’t mean to startle you- but I couldn’t help it, that was awesome! Did you write that song yourself? I googled some of the lyrics and nothing came up.”

The man took a while to respond and Yugi wondered if his dark complexion was hiding a blush. Eventually, though, the violinist/singer cleared his throat.

“Y-yes, I wrote it. I’ve never sung it in front of anyone though.”

“Do you write a lot of songs?” Yugi pressed and again it took his new friend a moment to respond.

“...Sometimes. I suppose it’s a bit of a hobby. Listen I-”

Finally, Yugi actually realized just how rude he was being with his aggressive ramblings, “Oh, gosh I’m sorry! I’m bombarding you with questions like some weirdo.” He gave a nervous laugh and to his relief, the man’s posture seemed to relax a little- though he still seemed a bit embarrassed. “My name’s Yugi, by the way, I’m one of the sound techs.”

The man gave a nod of his head, “Atem, I’m a violinist in the orchestra.”

“And a totally awesome singer, you’ve got some real talent,” Yugi reiterated, but pressed on before the man could get too bashful again, “The reason I asked you so many questions is because I think it’s fate that we met like this! See I’m in a band, we’re trying to put out our first full-length album but- honestly, we’re aren’t very fast at pumping out new songs. We’re great with coming up with the music, but the lyrics always get us stuck. We’ve actually been looking to hire a ghostwriter for our songs, but none of the people we’ve found seem right- but that song was amazing, just the kind of stuff we like!” Ignoring the unreadable expression on Atem’s face, Yugi dug out his cardholder and passed one of them up to Atem. “I don’t wanna blindside you more than I already have tonight- sorry about that again, but, I really think you’d be a perfect fit for us. Think about it, and if it seems interesting to you, come talk to me.”

Atem looked the card over for a second, before peering back at Yugi, “I’ve never really put my songs out there, it’s just a private hobby, I don’t want you and your bandmates to get your hopes up.”

Yugi waved off his concern, “Don’t worry about that. Like I said, just think about it, okay?” He didn’t move, nor look away from Atem until the man finally nodded in agreement. “Awesome! Take your time and come talk to me once you’ve thought about it some.” His outgoing steam was starting to run out, his bold and somewhat rude actions finally starting to catch up to him. In a sudden burst of embarrassment, Yugi brought his hand up to scratch at the back of his head. “Anyway, I’ll let you go now, I’m sure you want to get home or get on with your night. It was nice meeting you, Atem!”

And with a wave, Yugi was heading for the door, leaving a rather bewildered Atem in his wake.

[girlmeetsliv3]

Head Over Heels

Killing Me Softly Sequel!

Yandere Hoseok x Reader ; BTS Member x Reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4,076

Release Date: December 5th, 2019 @ 12 am (GMT-4) 

Three years. It took three years for some semblance of normality to return to your life. It took three years for you to begin to see the world, not by it's bad but it's good. Three years and you were finally moving on. Three years wasn't enough to stop his obsession. After three years, he was tired of waiting - you would finally be his.

Trigger Warning: The following story contains mentions of manipulation, abuse, harassment, and child k*dnapping. The behavior and mindset of the characters in this will be incredibly yandere and toxic. This is a work of fiction and doesn’t represent the character of bangtan sonyeondan. Enjoy ~~~

 Hoseok's fingertips trailed soothingly across your bareback, as the two of you gazed into the cityscape visible through the large windows. The silk sheets that covered your naked bodies provided little warmth but eased your anxieties about what your body might look like. Hoseok turned his head toward you, but you chose to ignore it, focusing on staring outside. Things were calm and pleasant. A drastic change from a few hours ago, but you welcomed it. "Did I hurt you?" Hoseok whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. You shook your head and leaned further into his embrace. "It was perfect."

 Hoseok chuckled and moved you so your head would be tucked under his chin. "You were perfect, Y/n." You were grateful that he couldn't see your reddened cheeks or the grin that had quickly spread across your face, but you were sure he sensed them. In moments such as these that are so serene and full of joy, one can't help but think the happiest of thoughts. Ones that fill you up with joy, and this feeling of invincibility, they make you believe that anything is possible - that anything can be achieved. Those happy thoughts can cause great moments of joy, but they are not without consequence. Especially if one doesn't take into account the gravity of their words. It couldn't be helped that in a moment as beautiful as this, images slipped into your mind: images of Hoseok and you together forever as a large family in a tiny house. It was all supposed to be a harmless delusion - the fleeting dream that one might conjure up in a passionate moment with a lover. Even though you and Hoseok weren't lovers - technically.  

 Still, it didn't hurt to dream. "What are you thinking of, Jagi?" Hoseok asked his fingers on your back stilling. He was sure to have his eyebrow cocked in the way he did whenever he asked a question. "About us." Your tone was light, too caught up in your daydream to notice the change in Hoseok. "What about us?" His words were chosen carefully as if he were threading over thin ice. Even his breathing had shallowed, a sign of his nerves. Maybe you made a mistake that night, answering his question. Perhaps you should've changed the subject or pretended your thoughts laid elsewhere. You turned around to face Hoseok, noticing the slight frown in between his brows, and you softly smiled.

 "How I want us to be together forever. No matter what." You knew that statement could potentially scare him off, you had only known him for two months, but everything felt so right with Hoseok. It was a glimmer in his eye, and the way his hold on you tightened significantly that should have warned you that Hoseok had taken the words to heart. This wasn't a mindless pillow talk to him; it was a declaration. "I agree." Was all he said. You turned back around and lay your head on his chest, snuggling into him for some warmth. Your eyelids were beginning to become substantial, your eyes fluttering shut every so often until you finally succumbed and closed your eyes. Falling asleep to the rhythmic sound of Hoseok breathing.

 "I'll always be with you, Jagi. No matter what."

 You didn't hate your job, but it did want to make you tear the hair from your scalp several times a day - some days more than others. You had managed to work yourself up to a management position, which was supposed to mean fewer hours, but whenever someone in your office decided to be incompetent, you were left to deal with the consequences. Like today when Yeri had abruptly taken a day off right before the monthly evaluation meeting and forgot to send you the presentation and documents which you would have to present to the CEO. Usually, this wouldn't have been a problem if you hadn't found out forty-five minutes before the meeting. Not to mention you were supposed to leave early today, Sun-Hi had a doctor's appointment, and you couldn't afford to be late. Thankfully the daycare you had placed her in was only a ten-minute drive from your workplace.

 The clock on your car's dashboard read ten twenty-seven am. With luck, you would be able to make it to the appointment by eleven. Maybe I’ll take Sun-Hi out to lunch? It was preferable to going home and attempting to cook dinner. The bright colors of the daycare stood in contrast to the copper and steels of Seoul's architecture, but it was a welcome change. You pulled into the parking lot of the building, quickly gathering your stuff before racing towards the entrance and front desk. It was a new receptionist this time, one you didn't recognize, but you hoped she wouldn't take too long. "Hello, what can I help you with?" She must've been around your age, but her sweet smile and bright eyes let you know that she still hadn't lost her naivety - lucky. "I'm here to pick up my daughter Sun-Hi, we have a doctor's appointment." The girl smiled, typing her name into the computer. After a couple seconds, the smile faded from her face and was replaced with a frown. "I'm sorry, but it says she's already been picked up," she further leaned into the computer, eyes skimming the text. "It says here she left early for an appointment...and her father picked her up.”

           "So, what do you think of it?" Hoseok had insisted on stopping by your cramped apartment during finals week. He had dragged you outside, insisting that if you didn't take a break from studying, your head might combust. You didn't exactly believe his words, no matter how much he swore they were real, but you did need a break. Plus, any excuse to spend time with Hoseok was a good one. He had practically kidnapped you, forcing you into his car and driving for almost an hour before showing you his "hideout." A quaint beach hidden between forestry and rocks. Where despite the gray morning sky, the sea and sand glimmered. "It's nice." You muttered, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. The air had gotten colder, the beginnings of winter making themselves evident. "I've always loved it here. Used to visit when I was younger to get away from it all." Hoseok rarely spoke about his past, even if the two of you were close. There was always a sort of barrier between the two of you. One that only seemed to weaken around his friends, or in moments such as these.

 Hoseok sat down on the large blanket he had brought, dusting off what little sand got onto it. He patted the empty space to his left, indicating he wanted you to sit with him. Once you did, he wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you in a warm hug. "Are you cold?" He asked as he felt you shivering. "A bit." you chuckled before leaning further into him. The two of you remained silent for quite a while, basking in the refreshing scent and lulling sound of the waves crashing into the shore. You tilted your head up to look at him, mesmerized by how someone could be so beautiful and kind. Though the relationship between the two of you was a transactional one, it never felt like that. You felt like he loved you, even if he had never directly said the words. When the others gave you presents or attention, it felt like compensation, a 'thank you for your services' kind of thing. Whenever Hoseok did it if felt like it was a way for him to show his admiration towards you. Who knows? Maybe you were just a fool, falling for a rich man with sweet words.

 "You're staring." He smirked, not even bothering to look down at you. "I'm gazing." You retorted, smiling a bit. "It's creepy," Hoseok said, rolling his eyes. A small scoff left your lips, "It's romantic." One of his hands crept up your face, covering your eyes. Both of you burst into laughter as you tried to uncover your eyes when you finally did Hoseok pressed a chaste kiss against your lips. "No fair." You whined, lips pouting somewhat exaggeratedly. You pretended to try to escape Hoseok's hold, but his grip tightened, and he pulled you tautly against him. "Life isn't fair," Hoseok said as he pressed another kiss to your lips. "You're not getting away from me, darling. No matter what."

           “And you’ve had no contact with any of them since the trial, correct?” Officer Park asked, the two police officers standing in the middle of your living room. "No, I haven't! You know this. How many times am I going to have to say this?!" You were exasperated, the snot-filled tissues clenched in your hand, and reddened cheeks a clear sign of it. After causing quite a show at the daycare, you had called Investigator Lee only to be told that he was out of town. Park shot his partner a look before crouching down in front of you, the case you had been involved in was infamous: seven of Korea's most prominent businessmen and figureheads all involved in a kidnapping and love affair that looked like something straight out of a drama. Your name had been changed to ensure your security, but that didn't mean that judgment hadn't followed you everywhere you went. Even now, in your own home, you could see the way the officer's side-eyed you. "I understand why you're reacting like this, Miss, but rest assured we will do everything in our power to locate your daughter and ensure her wellbeing." Inspector Park stood above your hunched over the figure, while his partner stood in the corner with harsh judgment in his eyes. "For the time being, please refrain from speaking to anyone about this. We will try to interview the men and see if they know anything." Yeah, right, like you were going to listen to that.  

 Gangnam's correctional facility was on the outskirts of town, barely classifying as Seoul but housing enough prominent individuals to bear that name. You had been sitting outside in your car for over thirty-minutes debating whether or not to come in. Whether or not to see any of them again after everything that had happened. The desire to locate your daughter had outweighed any sense of fear or survival instinct that willed you to drive away and forget the men. Taking a deep breath, you stepped out and stared at the bleak concrete structure, it's red bricks standing out against the desolate surrounding area. You noticed that some guards were staring at you, so you began to walk towards the front, trying to ignore their peering eyes. The prison was a long stretch of red brick and concrete; it was perhaps three floors high, including the ground-floor. There were small windows all along the length of it, and it was quite a distance away. That was because there was a large front yard area for inmates almost enclosed with high fencing, the tops covered in barbed wire with signs along the lengths warning that the fencing was live and that touching it could result in electrocution and possible death. Between the yard and where you currently stood, there was another building, a smaller building. This one was ground-floor only, and it was the entrance to the prison.  

 Visitors would be checked and searched within that building. Two other buildings were flanking each side of the prison, one in which there was an infirmary and presumably solitary confinement of sorts. The other contained a large visitation room and other things that you had yet to see while inside. Lastly, in two of the corners around the prison, there were tall towers on which guards would stay and watch everything from above. There were massive alarm systems stuck to the sides, and you briefly wondered what the siren would sound like before you dragged your eyes away. It was an imposing building, that much was sure, and the cold waves coming off it seemed to permeate and chill you down to your very bones.

 "Who are you here to see?" The guard asked, his voice being slightly muted through the glass pane. You took a deep breath, "Jeon Jungkook." You handed over your id and emptied out your pockets before you were patted down. The walk through the aisle was uncomfortable, to say the least, inmates lined their cells peering down to catch a look. You couldn't help glancing up, trying to meet any of the six familiar pairs of eyes - not knowing whether to feel gratitude or regret when you were unsuccessful. The interview room was vacant, with only you in a room lined with glass, chairs, and black phones. You chose to sit in the third chair, deeming a reasonable distance, though what you measured you didn't know. It was a few minutes until the other room's door was open, Jungkook stepping forward while a guard lingered behind. His hands were handcuffed in front of him, and even though the white jumpsuit, you could see the way his muscles flexed. He had gotten more significant, if that were possible, not having much to do except workout after being locked up for so long. Jungkook seemed disinterested until he glanced up, and his eyes met yours.

 Jungkook began to laugh, a childlike glee filling his eyes; beneath that, however, you could see the swirl of wrath and regret. The guard uncuffed him and whispered something to him, possibly telling him to behave or the amount of time they had. Jungkook walked to the third chair and sat down, his eyes slowly trailed down your body. Now up close, his features had aged and hardened, but they remained with a youthful glow that sadly you had lost. Not wanting to waste any more time, you picked up the phone beside you holding it up to your ear. Jungkook smirked, leaning back in the chair as he continued to stare at you. Clearly, he had no intention of picking up the phone, at least not anytime soon. Even now, he still found ways to torment you. "Please." you mouthed, hand coming up to rest on the glass. It had been years, but people didn't change that much, and you knew that you still meant something to them. Jungkook played along, his palm coming up to meet yours. Maybe your mind was playing tricks on you, but you swore you felt some of his heat come through the thick bulletproof glass. Finally, he picked up the phone.

 “Long time no see, Y/n.” His lips curved slightly upward.

 “...Hi Jungkook.”

 "Aren't you going to ask how I've been?" Jungkook teased, leaning forward. When you refused to, he answered anyway. "I've been good, you know. I didn't think I would ever fit the prison life, but it isn't too bad - at least I don't have a long time left." Your eyes widened, shock evident in the way the phone between your hand trembled, "What? But I thought -" Jungkook chuckled, "Didn't they tell you about the appeals? All our sentences got decreased, not to mention all of us have been on our best behavior." He emphasized by making quotations with his fingers. You wouldn't believe the cruel hand fate had dealt you with as if once wasn't enough. You opened your mouth to speak, but you were unsure of what to say. What would work? What would make the men give up on you?

 “Jimin’s already out. I’m sure he’s planning on coming to visit you soon.”

 With those few words, Jungkook had robbed you of your breath. You had been so sure it was Hoseok, but if Jimin was out, that means he might know about Sun-Hi. If he knows that means… Your eyes trailed up to see Jungkook smiling sadistically, madness in his eyes. Maybe he didn't know. Perhaps he did. All that mattered to you now was finding your daughter. Along with making sure to protect her from her father, even if it cost you your life.  

 "Have you thought about what you want to do for the rest of your life?" You asked him as you turned around. A small giggle escaping your lips when you noticed that he had been staring at you this whole time. "I'm looking at her right now." Rolling your eyes, you playfully hit his shoulder. "I'm serious." Jimin pouted, "As am I." His arms wrapped around you and pull you towards him, the book on his chest long forgotten. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you." It was a cute thought, one that caused blood to rush towards your cheeks.

 "Why do you always say such corny things?" You accused him, as you hid your face in his neck. Jimin could only laugh, "Someone has to." Then he lowered himself until the two of you were at eye level on the soft carpet floor. Jimin's hands combed softly through your hair before cupping your face. There was a faint glow in his eyes, almost like golden flecks that danced in the light. Jimin looked like an angel that had fallen from heaven. Slowly you leaned in to brush your lips along his, but the sound of a phone ringing interrupted you. You had forgotten to turn off your phone.

 "What is that?" All the joy had disappeared from his voice. "How many times do I have to tell you to turn off your fucking phone?!" In the blink of an eye, Jimin had crossed the room to where your bag was. He took the leather bag in his hand, combing through it until he located the mobile device. "Jimin… I'm sorry. It's almost out of battery, so I thought it would die out." He wasn't listening, or he didn't care to. Jimin smiled, turning around to face you, the phone in his hand. "You know I've told you that I hate this phone. It's so old. How do you think it reflects on us if you're walking around with a dinosaur for a cellphone." When you didn't answer, it only made him more upset. Even if it was clear, his statement was rhetorical.  

 "Don't worry, I preordered the newest model. Think of it as a gift." The phone between Jimin's stiff fingers slipped - or that's what he claimed hours later once he had calmed down - to you, it looked more like he slammed the fragile device with all his force against his marble table. It didn't matter. No point in bringing it up, you had a new phone, and Jimin was happy. That's all that mattered.

 The ringing was what woke you up. It had already been over six hours, the news had yet to be dispatched, but so far the police had no luck in locating your daughter or a single trace of Jung Hoseok or Park Jimin. When the police visited the prison to interview the other five men, they'd been notified of your visit. To say they were displeased would be an understatement; the two officers insisted that your involvement would only slow down the process of the investigation. All you could think about was how audacious one must be to tell the mother of a lost child to "relax and destress."

 The phone on the nightstand next to you shined a bright blue. The caller identification stating 'foreign.' It couldn't be your family, investigator Park had warned that contacting your family might not be helpful as it could cause an intense commotion. They'd be the last person you would tell: your family had shut you out after what had happened three years ago. Not that you blamed them, no one wanted an 'escort' for a daughter. Hesitantly you answered the phone, placing it next to your ear.

 "Hi, mommy."

 You leaped off the bed, "Sun-Hi. Oh my god. Are you okay? Sweetheart, are you hurt?" Tears were spilling from your eyes as you rushed to the living room to find Investigator Park's number that was on the card they'd given you.

 "I'm fine, Mommy. Daddy says not to call the police."

 You froze. "Da-daddy? Is he there can I speak to Daddy?"

 There was slight static in the background, so you couldn't make out the voices. Only your daughter's soft tone when she returned, "No. Sorry." A dry sob escaped your throat, "Sun-Hi. Baby, please. Tell me where you are." Your daughter didn't respond; there was only more background noise until "I'm sorry, Mommy. I have to go." No. "No!" The call ended, and with it, you collapsed onto the floor. Your knees coming up to your chest as you rock yourself back and forth. Desperation began to fill you as a single thought settled back into your mind: it isn't over. Their game. It's just started.

 Sun-Hi played with the monster truck until she had just about crashed it into everything and quickly become bored. Then she decided to explore her room once again. Daddy had said that everything inside was either bought by him or her uncles. It was beautiful and distracted her for a bit, but she missed Mommy. She wanted her mommy. It was only after throwing a tantrum and screaming for a while, that Daddy finally let her talk to Mommy. Mommy sounded upset, but Daddy said that soon she would join them, and they would be happy together. All of them.

 "Sun-Hi." His voice called out, a sing-song tone to it. When he peered his head through the door, she burst out into giggles. "Oh, my baby. You're so adorable." He cried, running over to her and lifting her up into his arms. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, in awe of how he and you had ever managed to create such a beautiful creature. In the corner of the room, next to Sun-Hi's bed was a nightstand with a framed picture of him and you in it. Taken on that oh so fateful day. "Good news, sweetheart. Mommy's coming to meet us soon…" His voice trailed off as he looked deeply into his daughter's eyes. As he gazed into them, he saw your eyes staring back at him. The ones that used to gaze at him with so much love and fear. For a fraction of a second, he felt guilty at the damage he might be causing; how much pain he might be inflicting onto you, all because of some deep-rooted need. However, that sentiment didn't last very long.

 Sun-Hi was a reflection of the love he and you had, he would be damned if anything stopped him now after having waited such a long time. He would have you now. The world is damned.

 The last thing you knew you had passed out on the living room floor. After the call, you had suffered a panic attack that left you hyperventilating so much the lack of oxygen triggered a 'reset' switch to go off in your brain. Knocking you unconscious. Your mind likely needed such a thing after all the stress it had to undergo in twenty-four hours. The former, of which would look like a stroll to the park, considering what you had to face next. It wasn't until you tried to move and felt the tight cord digging into your flesh that you realized you were tied up. Looking around, you realized that you were still very much in your house - the bedroom, to be exact. Even it didn't paint a pretty picture that you were curled up with your wrists and ankles tied together. It left you in an uncomfortable position that at best only allowed you to roll over and off the bed, but didn't allow for much else. In the corner of the room, a shadow moved before it seemingly melted back into the wall. You weren't easily deceived.

 "Who's there?" You called out, knowing that the person wouldn't necessarily answer, but hoping to elicit some type of reaction. That way, you could narrow down who it could be - even if there really were only two contenders. "Who do you want it to be?" Spoke his angelic voice, before he stepped out into the moonlight - a maniacal grin on his face.

 "How I've missed you, darling."

[harryswanderlust]

Locker Room

warnings: smut!! & cursing

requested: nope

I hope you guy enjoy 4k words of gym! shawn!!

A sigh escapes her lips as she fills the water cooler for the third time in the past hour, secretly hoping she won't have to fill it more than the eight times she usually does during her shift. She prefers it over having to pick up the dirty, sweaty towels off the gym floor to throw into the wash, but neither thing is glamorous in her opinion. Her job isn't too bad, she really doesn't have to do much, and Y/n really needs the money. It was either here or the coffee shop on the corner, and she doesn't know a thing about making coffee.

She's been working here for about two weeks, and the worst thing she's had to do is help all the clueless people understand the terms of their membership. She'd rather bang her head against a wall, but most days are relaxing for her when she doesn't have to deal with that. She mostly gets to hide in the background completely unnoticed since everyone seems to know what they're doing and goes about their business like usual.

She gets a nice view sometimes, and one of these days she knows she's going to get caught staring at the cute guys that walk in. She can't help herself, once they take their shirts off she gets a front row seat to their toned abs and back muscles and how could she look away from that? No one really pays much attention to her except to ask for a towel or for her to refill their water bottles though. Every day is basically the same routine, but today's shift was going to be a little different for her.

She makes her way back to the front desk, resting her chin on her fist as she reopens her book to continue reading it. The day has been slow so far, not a lot of people coming in, and it's relatively quiet except for the clinking of weights. She's been waiting, watching the tiny hand tick by on the clock, for her lunch break. While her job may not hard, it's certainly not invigorating and sadly her lunch break is the most exciting part of her day.

When she hears the bell on the door ring, she looks up from her book, letting it close on the counter as she gets ready to give whoever's come in the usual "Hi, welcome to Fusion Gym," greeting, but the words manage to get caught in her throat.

She's unable to do anything but blink, taking in the sight of the stranger that just walked in. She thinks she's dreaming at first as her eyes roam his entire his body, noting the heading that's pushing back chocolate brown curls and shorts that are exposing a pair of thighs that she swears are sinful. Sure she's seen some well fit, attractive looking young guys come in. She works in a gym for goodness sake, but him? He puts all of them to shame.

She jumps out of her chair, smoothing out her shirt and fixing her name tag. She rakes her fingers through hair, trying to make herself look nice or at the very least presentable. She never put much effort into how she looked for her job since she only had to interact with a handful of people and her boss didn't care. But today has made her want to try a bit harder.

He makes his way over to her and is about to say something when Jeremy, the gym's best personal trainer, comes up to him.

"Hey, Shawn. It's been a while since I've seen you, where've you been?" He asks, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him into a type of bro hug. He gives a couple pats on the back before releasing him, one hand still on his shoulder.

Shawn.

She kind of liked that name.

The kind of name she'd like to scream.

"Been busy writing that album and stuff. You know how it is," he tells him, shrugging as he pulls his gym bag off his shoulder. She watches as his biceps flexes, and she restrains herself from biting her lip. A few tattoos on his arm catch her attention, and if she didn't have a thing for them before then she sure did now.

Also, writing an album? Did that make him a singer? She's never heard of any singers named Shawn, but being away at college has really managed to take her out of the loop.

"Yeah, I no worries man. You want to make it a leg day?" Jeremy asks him, and Shawn nods in agreement. Y/n doesn't catch the words that are passed between them next because she's too busy daydreaming about the tall, amber eyed boy in front of her with the a smile like sunshine. Thoughts swirling through her mind about how someone so perfect could exist. Which she realizes is impossible because no one is truly perfect, but damn did he sure come close.

It makes her wish she'd starting working at the gym sooner.

She's fully aware that there's work she needs to do, and standing here gawking at people isn't going to help get it done. It's probably time for her to wipe down equipment or clean one of the bathrooms, but that all seems so insignificant to her right now.

"Hello? Excuse me, miss?"

Gasping, she's pulled back to reality. She blinks a few times, silently cursing at herself for appearing like a fool in front of him. He's standing right in front of her, patiently waiting for her to say something.

"Yes, I'm sorry. Hi, can I help you with something today?"

Like maybe taking off your shirt?

"Yeah, could I get a towel please?"

She nods frantically, like somehow she can no longer behave like a normal human being. She walks back to the closet where they keep the towels and has to stand on her tiptoes to get the only available ones on the top shelf.

"Sorry about that," she says sheepishly when she's back behind the front desk, "Here you go."

She hands him the neatly folded towel, their hands touching when he grabs it from her. A slight chill runs through her, and she has to close her eyes for a minute to calm herself. She doesn't know why she's getting so worked up over a guy. An inconceivably hot guy, but still a guy.

"I appreciate it," he thanks her, his face lighting up with a smile and Y/n's knees go weak at the sight. "I've never seen you here before. I'm Shawn."

He offers her his hand to shake and she takes it, her thumb tracing over the bird that is inked onto it. She ponders over it, considering what it might mean before realizing she hasn't said anything back.

"I..I'm new," she sputters, shaking his hand way too eagerly. He lets out a small laugh, one she'd find endearing if it wasn't caused by the dumb mistake she just made. "I mean, I'm Y/n. Obviously new isn't my name. That would be...that would be stupid...obviously..."

Her focus shifts to anywhere but his own, unable to handle how embarrassing she's being right now. She's word vomiting all over herself, and she'd say that it's the reason no one's ever asked her out. She can hardly say anything remotely intelligible around good looking people so it's no wonder why she can't keep anyone around.

"Cute name for an even cuter girl," he says, winking at her, and her heart almost stops beating.

Was that–did he just compliment her? She had to have imagined that right?

"Guess I'll be seeing you around more often," he waves and turns over his shoulder to join Jeremy in the workout room.

She mutters a "guess so" under her breath and jumps giddily where she stands when he's no longer facing her. She wipes her clammy palms against her jeans, trying to get of all the sweat and sits back down in her chair. Opening her book, she tries to get back into it and stop herself from watching Shawn. But it doesn't work once the weights are picked up and the shirt comes off, his entire physique on full display for her.

He could literally choke her with those thighs if he wanted.

After a while, she's still trained on him. Sweat glistens against his chest and forehead, his eyebrows drawn together as he concentrates. For Y/n, this is more entertaining than anything she could see at the movies or on tv. She'd pay to see this everyday, even if the boy never developed any interest in her.

She didn't know it yet, but her luck was about to start changing for her.

･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧

The low hum of music from the speakers above flows through the gym, a yawn seeping past her lips as she rests her chin further against her fist. She blinks several times, tiredness taking over her body. She's been fighting off sleep for the past three or four hours, trying to stay awake for the night shift she's been stuck on. It was the only time she was available to work this week, having to have mornings and afternoons free for her college midterms. And if she wasn't already occupied enough with all that, it sure didn't help that Shawn has been on her mind the entire time.

It would have been wise to take the whole week, but her desire to see him again was greater than her need to pass her tests. He's started coming in every day since they met, or on nights like tonight if that's when Y/n's working. She didn't know what to think of it really, or of herself for that matter. It wasn't like he was anyone special, if you take away that fact that he's a talented artist and is a walking dream, yet she's developed a crush on him in such a short amount of time. She even took her hair out of a ponytail for him, letting it fall loosely around her face and over her shoulders. She would've brushed it, but she didn't want it to seem like she was trying too hard.

Not that it mattered because Shawn definitely noticed her. He noticed her from the moment he laid eyes on her, even if she was about to fall out of her chair. It was adorable, and what's more adorable is the amount of times he's caught her staring at him while he's in the middle of working out. He'd be lying if he said he didn't love the way he's able to put on a show for her. It's an immediate confidence booster for him when she gets flustered, turning back to the towels she folding or book she's only half reading. And when she's busy and needed elsewhere, he's watching her too.

Slowly, they've both been noticing that the only attention they want is each other's. There have been plenty of girls in the gym that have taken their shot at flirting with Shawn–there being one in particular that Y/n remembers named Olivia. She works at the gym alongside her, and she had to watch the pathetic scene unfold in front of her while refraining herself from killing the girl. Everything from shoulder touching, hair twirling, and all the way to fake laughing. She thought she was going to be sick, but luckily Shawn wasn't paying any mind to her. He's used to the affection, but now he only wants Y/n's.

She releases a grunt when her head slips from her hand, hitting her forehead on the counter. Her fingers tend to the pain, rubbing tenderly to help ease it before she decides to clean the equipment in order to keep herself from nearly falling asleep again. If there's anything she's learned from this night, it's that four cups of coffee fails to do the trick.

Right now there's two things she'd love: either a nap or to be underneath Shawn while he's doing push ups in the workout room with Jeremy...or for other reasons. The way his muscles are flexing is making her hot, and the a/c in this place is always cranked up on full blast.

"How many is that?" Shawn asks, grunting as he pushes himself up from the mat. A bead of sweat slides down the side of his head, his damp curls sticking to his neck.

"That's thirty," Jeremy answers, smacking on a piece of gum. His gaze wanders the room, stopping when he sees Y/n wiping down a weight bench. "Hey, Y/n. I'm going to go fill up my water. Make sure he doesn't stop while I'm gone, would ya?"

He doesn't wait for a response, already making his way towards the water cooler. She glances at Shawn who relaxes before he stands up. The air is thick around them as he moves to stand in front of her, bringing his hand up to brush a piece of hair behind her ear. Skin tingles where he touches her, feeling electric as it runs down her spine.

She'd love for him to touch her all over.

She'd love to get to touch him all over. And his shirt's already off, making him half naked...

"You're not really going to make me do any more are you? I think I deserve a break don't you?" He asks, quirking a brow and cocking his head.

She draws in a weary breath, unsure of what to say as she grabs his hand and pulls it away from where it hovers above her cheek. She holds onto it, looking at where their hands meet and letting a second pass before she snaps herself out of whatever trance she's in.

"I...I guess?" She says questioningly.

He shakes his head. "You know what? What if you helped me instead?"

Her brows knit together, confusion gracing her features. "What do you mean?"

There's no one around except for the two of them and one or two other employees, most people having called it a night ages ago. The room is calm and quiet with it only being the two of you. That's why Shawn doesn't have a problem pulling her down gently to the mat, climbing above her and positioning himself to do more push-ups. Fear ignites behind her eyes as her back presses against it, their chests all but touching. He grasps her chin, getting her to look at him.

"For every push-up I do right I'll kiss you," he explains, and he has no idea where any of this came from but he's glad it did. He has wanted to ask her out over the past week. He's wanted to ask her out from the minute he saw her behind the front desk, but he's chickened out every time he's considered going for it.

"Wait what?"

She's hoping Jeremy doesn't come back anytime soon, not finding this situation to be one she'd enjoy explaining her way out of.

"Think of it as a reward," he persuades her, pushing himself down so his lips ghost right over her ear, "For both of us."

His locks dangle over his lashes, tickling along the side of her neck. She resists the urge twirl a curl of it around her finger. She's wondered what it feels like. Probably

"But how will I know if you do one right?" She whispers.

"I guess that's up to me to decide," he breathes, already bending down to start. His warm breath fans across her face, his nose lightly brushing hers. Her body is suddenly begging for him to kiss her, anticipating him pressing his warm lips to hers. Her head swirls and eyes flutter shut.

He's about to steal one from her. Claim the reward that's well earned for both of them, but she puts a stop to it.

"You know, I like your songs," she blurts out, dissipating the moment. She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, angry that she just ruined things as the heat was turning up. Her words come out so rushed she's hoping he didn't understand a thing she said–she's not even sure she understood what she said.

"What?"

"I like your songs," she repeats, more clearly this time. "I looked you up on Spotify the other night and I think your songs are...are cool."

'I looked you up on Spotify?' 'I think your songs are cool?'. Seriously? She listened to all three of his albums and that's what she has to say about it? That's the best she could come up with? It's better than telling him she spent over two hours listening to his music instead of studying for her classes, but still.

"Oh, thanks," he says, and there he goes again with that lovable laugh that has no business making her like him so much. "Do you have a favorite?"

She shrugs, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "I guess I really enjoyed that one song...Nervous I think it was...?"

A deep shade of crimson blossoms over Shawn's cheeks, and he coughs before shaking it off. His embarrassment begins to falter, and she notices a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Is it because I make you nervous, princess?"

She freezes, her pulse racing.

Princess?

That was new. She's never been called that before, but she liked hearing it come from that mouth of his. Now she wants to know what else it can do. Kiss her lips? Or maybe the ones a little further south?

She's so lost in her mind that she's totally surprised when he finally decides to go for it. Next thing she knows his lips are on hers, moving gently. It's fervent, it's insiste. Each one deeper than the last every time he pulls away and comes back. He relaxes, his body melting into hers as she winds her arms around him. They're flush against each other now with no room to consider the possibility of someone walking in on them now.

One hand tangles in her hair, the other pinches her hip causing her to squirm and her mouth to part. Her heart beats faster and faster, body spinning as she savors the saccharin taste of honey. They're making out for the entire world to see–they're lying in front of a wall of windows–but that's the last thing either of them care about. The world has fallen around them, and the only thing left are the helpless moans they're pulling out of each other.

She tugs teasingly at his bottom lip, hissing when he grinds his hips against her own. A hand slips under her shirt, splaying over her stomach, but before he can move it any further something halts his actions.

A bottle drops to the floor, the sound of it ringing through the room alongside a string of curses. Shawn swiftly rolls off of her, the two of them sitting up as Jeremy approaches. Realizing their messy appearance, he peers unsurely at them.

He clears his throat. "Ahem, I think we should call it a night," he says, fixated on the way they're so close to one another, "It's getting late, yeah?"

Shawn nods, already halfway stood up. "Yeah, I'm gonna hit the showers."

They exchange goodbyes while Y/n drowns in a sea disbelief. Never in a million years would she have pictured herself making out with a pop star on a grime infested floor. Granted she didn't initiate it, but she made no effort to stop the situation either.

Jeremy's long gone and she chooses to follow Shawn's lead by standing up as well, but when she does she trips. He's quick to catch her as she stumbles into his chest, and he gestures towards the lockers rooms. There's a split second of misunderstanding before she picks up that he wants her to join him, which sends her into a minor panic.

Is he really going to try and hook up with her in a locker room?

Is she really finding herself okay with that?

Could he at least buy her dinner first?

Within no time they're in there and he's all over her again. Dropping his bag and towel, gripping her waist and attaching himself to her neck once more. It's no surprise he's strong, and it's no surprise that a wave of excitement rushes through her when he roughly pushes her back into the side of the lockers. He skims the hem of her shirt, working to pull it off of her.

Her pants are next, and then his own shorts. She's desperate for him when she feels his hard on poking the side of her thigh, mere inches away from leaning into the place she wants him most. Whines fill the air as they leave red and purple marks along skin. Shawn dips down, his mouth roaming her chest while his arm snakes around to work on the clasp of her bra.

He groans, taking in the beautiful sight of her. "I like this view," he says, "I could get used to this."

She can't believe how she's gotten here. Naked and sandwiched between Shawn and the cold metal of a row of lockers. She can't believe it when his mouth leaves her collarbone and attacks her nipple, his fingers fumbling around with the other. She can't believe the way she's shuddering when he carefully drops down to his knees. He leaves sloppy kisses on her on his way down, making her want to crumble.

There's a tingling feeling where she's aching for him when he levels with her center. She's wet. Beyond wet, and he's barely done anything to her yet. He's positioned himself between her thighs, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles into them, and she wants to come undone at the sight of it alone.

Her body lurches forward when his nose nudges her clit. She becomes a whimpering mess when his fingers dance along her thighs and make their way up to her heat. They slide through her wet folds, circling her entrance before slipping one in. His tongue is on her next, eliciting a scream from her as it swirls her clit.

Groans leave him as he sucks on her bundle of nerves, causing vibrations that make her tremble. Her legs shake, and she's already beginning to drip all over his chin.

"Fuck," she whines, loving the way he's stretching her more and more with each pump.

He pulls away, muttering a "you taste so fucking good," beneath his breath, eyes glossed over with lust, before burying himself in her again. He's relentless, pushing deep inside her all the way to his knuckles and picking up his pace to bring her closer and closer to the edge. Her back arches into him, and she moans at the way he's touching every place inside her. Licking, lapping, sucking–every movement, everything more magical than the last.

He continues to mercilessly eat her out, floating from how her pussy tastes. Soft cries can be heard as she's on the brink of release. She's in awe at how goddamn amazing he is at this. There's no way he hasn't done this before, but she doesn't care because she didn't know someone could make her feel this good. Her head leans back on the lockers, her eyes hooded as she watches herself spill all over his chin.

"Such a pretty princess when you're about to cum for me," he mumbles, moving faster to finish her off. And the way he says 'for him' does things to her. She's not just cumming, she's coming for him. And he's making her.

Her hands slam to the lockers to keep her steady.

"Right there. Please right there," she begs as he brings her to her hilt. Her orgasm starts to wash over her, unraveling right in front of him. He marvels in it, refusing to slow down or let up as she succumbs to pure bliss.

He licks every drop of her, cleaning her up as she writhes. He's never been so satisfied from making a girl cum with only his mouth. He's never been more confident in his abilities, and he'll be the first to admit he wants to do it again. He plants one last kiss to her clit, listening to the way she giggles as he stands back up.

He presses another one to her lips to allow for her to taste her sweet self on him. "How was that?"

"You," she breathes, "were amazing."

Thanks for reading! Feedback is appreciated!! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed! :) xx

[etherealwaifgoddess]

A Twenty-First Century Halloween

Main Characters: Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes

Summary: Bucky learns what Halloween is all about in the twenty-first century. Steve & Bucky have very different ideas on what festive Halloween treats are. And Steve thinks he has a perfect costume but learns he didn’t think it all the way through. 

Warnings/ Content: Light swearing but mostly just our sweet Brooklyn boys being complete and utter dorks. 

Word Count: 2773

Author’s Note: As I was daydreaming of Halloween this morning (it’s my favorite day of the year), it dawned on me that back in the 20′s and 30′s they didn’t have trick or treating like we do now. It wasn’t a thing until the 50′s at which point Steve was in the ice and Bucky was in and out of Cryo. This lead me down a rabbit hole of thinking about what Bucky would think of a modern Halloween and blindly ignoring MCU cannon while I writing this fic. I hope you all enjoy this little bit of fluff in honor of the upcoming holiday. 

XOXO - Ash

A Twenty-First Century Halloween

“But why?” Bucky asks a third time, still confused.

Steve groans, scrubbing a hand over his face in exasperation. “Because it makes people happy, Buck. Look, you don’t have to participate. I know crowds can be a little hard on you. You can just hang out upstairs until I’m done.” 

Bucky thinks hard for a few beats, considering his options. Trick or treating wasn’t a thing when they were growing up. There were parades and parties, sometimes kids would get apples or small things from their neighbors, but it was never kids dressed up in elaborate costumes getting mass quantities of candy from every available house. 

It’s the costume that really seals the deal. Bucky considers if he dresses up as someone else he’s less likely to scare anyone, and it would be nice to get smiles from people for a change instead of the concerned, or blatantly afraid, looks he’s been getting since he arrived. He thinks he could even find one that disguises his metal arm, even further hiding his identity. “Okay, I’m in.” he tells Steve who had gone back to reading his newspaper. Steve looks up with his warm, proud smile and Bucky ducks his head, nodding once. It’s hard to accept that level of emotion from anyone, let alone his best friend, but he tries to at least acknowledge it. It doesn’t help that Steve has been giving him that look for everything lately; from when he remembered the neighbor lady’s name from their tennatment back in 1934, to when he decided he liked pizza with pepperoni on it the best. 

Steve was serious when he told Bucky that Halloween was one of his favorite days. It’s not even two hours later that Steve is handing Bucky the Starkpad for him to look up costume ideas. “We only have a week, Buck. You need to order something soon so it gets here in time.” he tells him with a hopeful expression. Bucky knows Steve isn’t trying to be pushy, he’s just genuinely excited to share the holiday with him. It takes some time and a lot of Pinterest searches but he finally decides on Buck Rogers. He loved the comics back in the day and it’s a pretty simple outfit. He doesn’t expect anyone will recognize it but that doesn’t matter to him, he mainly just wants to look like someone who isn’t the winter soldier for a day. The irony of the name makes him secretly pleased as well and he can’t wait to see Steve’s reaction. 

Bucky finds a costume on Etsy with ease and though the price gives him a momentary heart attack, he reminds himself that money isn’t an issue anymore. He checks his email confirmation and lets Steve know his costume will arrive two days before Halloween. This seems to appease him, though he looks disappointed when Bucky won’t tell him what costumed he picked. Steve already had his costume picked out and it is set to arrive over the weekend. He’s going as Paul Bunyan and will be all kitted out with flannel and an axe. Bucky thinks it’s just another excuse to not shave the beard he’d grown but has to admit the costume is a good fit for Steve. 

Bucky can’t put his boots on fast enough when Steve tells him they are going shopping for Halloween candy. He has an incomparable sweet tooth and has been dreaming of endless bags of sugary goodness for Halloween with no judgement from Steve - eat your vegetables - Rogers. Bucky is sorely disappointed by Steve’s interpretation of Halloween candy when they get to Whole Foods. 

“This isn’t the point of the holiday!” Bucky whines as Steve loads yet another flat of mini water bottles to their cart. 

“You…. you didn’t even know what the holiday was about until three days ago!” Steve sputters back in protest. 

“But now I do, and water bottles and gluten free pretzels are NOT it.” Bucky points at the cart like it’s a rabid animal and Steve just rolls his eyes.

“Kids get thirsty and so do the parents, so yes, water bottles are needed. The gluten free pretzels are for the kids with allergies because they should be included too. I even got the pumpkin shaped ones so they’re festive! And I have the fruit leathers so they get something sweet too. I just want to give the kids something good instead of the crap they can get everywhere else. Besides, we can afford to give out better things; so we should.” 

“But you said we would get Halloween candy.” Bucky is unabashedly pouting, it doesn’t matter he is a grown man in the middle of Whole Foods; he wants brightly wrapped, sugar laden, twenty first century Halloween candy, damnit. 

Steve pinches the bridge of nose, clearly exasperated. “I said we’d get Halloween treats, Buck. I never promised you candy. Now, do you need anything while we’re here? They might have that cheese you liked a few weeks ago back in stock.” 

Bucky sighs heavily, “Yes, of course I want the cheese. Let’s go to look.” his voice is heavy with defeat which Steve pointedly ignores. But he should have known Bucky doesn’t give up that easily.

They are barely out of the Whole Foods parking lot when Bucky holds up his phone to show Steve a shopping list, “Damn. I forgot to get more hand soap.”

“Just use the bottle from the guest bathroom. We can pick some up next time we’re out.” Steve tells him as he navigates their way onto the main highway. 

Bucky shakes his head, “No, because then we’ll forget and then what happens when we have guests? There’s a Target on our way back, stop there and I can get the good kind we both like.” 

Steve wants to protest, he really does. But then Bucky plays the only card he has left. “Please? I’m having a really good brain-day and I want to stop while I know I’ll be okay.” he looks so earnest and pleading that even Captain America doesn’t stand a chance against him.

“Okay, we’ll stop. I’m glad you’re doing good today. I’m proud of you, pal.” 

Bucky grins and tries not bounce in his seat in anticipation. He knows full well what he is doing and it has been far too long since he’s gotten one over on Steve. The car is barely in park when Bucky is jumping out of his seat. “It’s okay, I’ll be quick. Don’t worry about me.” He calls over his shoulder as he bolts.

Steve makes a small huff of agreement but Bucky is already off. As he sits waiting in the car he realizes Bucky had been a little too excited at the prospect of buying hand soap. It’s rare for him to venture into a store solo, too. Steve is trying to figure out what he is missing when a mother strolls past with a small cart filled with candy and three smiling kids in tow. It clicks into place;  Bucky doesn’t want soap, he wants candy. 

The Halloween shop is in the very back corner of the store, far from the soap aisle and not somewhere Bucky could easily wander into by mistake. But that’s where Steve finds him. The former deadly assassin is hastily scooping value sized bags of candy into a shopping cart, his eyes lit up with excitement. 

“I didn’t know they made Twix scented soap.” Steve deadpans. 

Bucky drops a bag and lets out a very small squeak in surprise. “Uh…” he stammers, desperately thinking of an excuse, “It’s new?” 

Steve laughs, loud and deep. He can’t be mad at Bucky for this. It’s his first Halloween in modern times and he should be enjoying it. Steve’s therapist had talked to him at length about letting Bucky decide who he is now and not imposing his own ideas on him. This, Steve supposes, is one of those times. 

Steve crosses the aisle and takes a bag of mixed lollipops out of the cart, placing it back on the shelf in its designated spot. Bucky watches, frozen in place, as Steve picks up a bag of Reese’s pumpkins and drops them in the cart instead. “Jeez, Buck, at least get the good stuff.” he says giving Bucky the same shitty little grin that hasn’t changed since 1925.

It’s Bucky’s turn to laugh and he pulls Steve in for a long hug as he calms. Together they finished raiding the Halloween candy, getting Bucky everything he could possibly want to try. They even remember to stop by the soap aisle on the way to the registers, Bucky insisting they really do need soap. 

In the three days leading up to Halloween Bucky spends an inordinate amount of time sampling the wide array of candy from Target. Steve isn’t sure which stresses him out more, the sheer quantity of sugar and processed junk Bucky is inhaling, or the never ending trail of tiny candy wrappers he finds all over the house. He takes both in stride, letting Bucky get this candy exploration out of his system. It’s only a few days of the year and Bucky does seem to be in better spirits with something to celebrate on the horizon. He even goes to the local farmers market to pick up pumpkins for them to carve (a complete disaster) and handmade crafts to decorate the house (actually pretty cute). 

The day of Halloween, Steve has everything lined up in their foyer and ready to hand out well before dinner. It’s tradition for him to get everything ready mid afternoon so he isn’t rushing through dinner and trying to hand out candy at the same time. Bucky is amused by the seriousness in which Steve takes his preparation but helps out as much as Steve lets him. Satisfied everything is in place, Steve places an order for Tex-Mex delivery and heads upstairs to get changed into his costume. Bucky doesn’t need much prep time but follows in Steve’s footsteps, figuring he might as well do the same.

The all white costume is a little uncomfortable but it will only be on for a few hours and Bucky figures it could be worse. He straps the multi-colored band around his bicep and attaches the faux futuristic weapons to his silver belt. The overall effect is pretty spot on, though Bucky muses if he still had his pre-war hairstyle it would be even better. He doesn’t let it bother him too much as he pulls his shoulder length hair back into a low bun. He’s become too attached to his longer hair to ever get it cut short again. It had grown out a little while he was living in Romania, and he found he enjoyed caring for it as well as the gentle weight of it laying on his shoulders. It serves as another reminder that he is a person now, no longer just a weapon. 

Bucky stops a few steps shy of the bottom of the stairs when he catches sight of Steve standing in their living room in his costume. He’s wearing a red and black flannel shirt with a pair of blue jeans and tan work boots. It’s perfect, even down to the prop axe he’s holding loosely at his side. There’s a nagging feeling in Bucky’s mind though and he thinks he’s missing something. He’s almost got it when Steve calls out and distracts him from his thoughts.

“Look at you, Buck!” Steve exclaims as he joins him in the living room, “Didn’t want to change your name even for a night, huh?” 

“Yeah, I couldn’t resist.” Bucky says with a laugh.

“You look great. You sure you’re ready for this, though?”

“Yes ma. It’s just a bunch of kids, I’m gonna be fine, promise.” 

Steve claps a large hand on Bucky’s shoulder. He looks like he wants to say more but is interrupted by a pinging sound from his phone, announcing the arrival of their dinner delivery.

The first set of trick or treaters arrive just as the sun is starting to set and Steve is absolutely gushing at the two little girls in bumblebee costumes. They can’t be more than a year and a half, and they both wobble on their little legs while Steve places treats in their plastic pumpkins. Bucky smiles and greets the parents while Steve fawns over the kids, handing them each a water bottle and offering them granola bars from the adult snack bowl. They fall into an easy pattern after a few rounds of families come through; Steve being completely over the top to the kids about their costumes (“You’re the scariest Zombie ever!” and also, “Are you a princess in real life?”), and Bucky making small talk with the parents. It isn’t until two women crack up at the sight of Steve that Bucky finally realizes what he was missing earlier. Steve’s costume might have intended to be Paul Bunyan but there was another famous woodsman he failed to consider when putting his costume together.

“Ohmygawd you’re the Brawny Man!” the one woman shrieks in between giggles. 

Bucky wants to facepalm, of course that’s where he’s seen the flannel/jeans/boots combo before! It’s on the wrapper of the paper towel rolls that he walks past almost daily in their pantry. Bucky snorts before he can help himself but he stifles his laughter the best he can and leans away from Steve when he fails. 

Steve blushes as brightly as only a pale skinned Irishman can and plasters on his formal Captain America smile. “Paul Bunyan, actually, but thanks.” he tells the women. 

Both women apologize profusely through more giggles and Bucky finally gets himself under wraps by the time they leave. Steve shoots him a glare, still blushing fiercely, and Bucky just shrugs innocently at his best friend. 

The tips of Steve’s ears are still tinged crimson when the next person giggles over his “Brawny Man” costume. Bucky fails even more at stifling his laughter and covers it, although transparently, with a coughing fit. 

Steve might be a hundred years old but he is sulking like he did when he was a teenager after a dozen people mis-guess his costume. Bucky tries to rally Steve’s spirits but only gets a long suffering eye roll in response. 

The trick or treaters steadily flow through until a little after nine and then things trickled down to a full stop by nine thirty. They are almost out of snacks and water bottles so it’s good timing that it stopped when it did. Steve turns off their porch light and locks the door behind him before leaning against it, yawning deeply. 

“You okay there, Brawny Man?” Bucky teases as he grabs two water bottles from the bucket. 

Steve catches the water bottle Bucky tosses to him and groans at the joke, “Not you too.”

“You have to admit, it does kind of look like him.”

“I will do no such thing. But at least people had heard of Paul Bunyan.”

“Hey, one person recognized my costume. That was better than I expected.”

“She was ninety three years old. Your costume is only relevant to the aged. Mine is still a beloved children’s story.”

“Or a useful household cleaning item.”

Steve huffs and throws his bottle at Bucky’s head but Bucky snatches it mid-air and sticks his tongue out at Steve defiantly. “Next year I’m gonna dress up as robot, I think. It might be fun to make the rest of me match the arm instead of trying to make it blend in. I saw a robot makeup tutorial on Pinterest and I think I could pull it off. What do you think?”

Steve smiles, shaking his head. “You really enjoyed this, huh?”

“Hell yes, I did. We did a good thing tonight for the neighborhood kids. And it was a lot of fun too.”

“Yeah, we did. I’m glad you enjoyed this as much as I do.” 

“And next year we’re gonna hand out some real candy too.”

“Buck, no.”

“Buck, yes.” Bucky grins broadly and Steve can’t help but laugh at his antics. 

“We’ll talk about it in exactly 358 days.” He assures him.

Bucky points a finger at Steve, “I’m holding you to that, Rogers.”

The pair finish cleaning up the buckets of leftover treats in the foyer, and Bucky even talks Steve into a single Reese’s pumpkin while they watch “It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown”. It was a perfect first Halloween for Bucky and he already can’t wait for next October. 

[quicksilversquared]

How to Announce a Pregnancy Ch. 3

Several years after the event of How to Fake a Marriage, Adrien and Marinette are ready to expand their family. When it comes to breaking the news, though…

Well, some people are harder to tell than others.

Adrien and Marinette had planned on telling Gabriel about their baby before he left, they really had. But he had canceled their dinner three weeks in a row in favor of meeting with one more client, and by the time they headed over to the mansion to say goodbye to Gabriel before he hopped in the car, they were a bit tired of getting pushed to the side in favor of work.

And then they got there to find Gabriel in a Mood, irritated because there were reports of long lines in the airport and a traffic jam on the highway. There was no way that they were going to blurt out the news when he was as distracted and irritable as he was. It just wasn't the time.

So they said their goodbyes, pretended that they weren't annoyed when Mr. Agreste brought up the idea of Marinette transferring to work at Gabriel again before he left, and then watched as he got into the car and was driven away.

"Well, so much for that attempt," Adrien said wryly as the mansion's gates closed behind the car. "I guess he's just going to find out when he gets back, then."

Nathalie, whose attention had returned to her tablet as soon as Mr. Agreste had been bundled securely into the car, looked up at them sharply. "Find out what?"

Adrien and Marinette exchanged a grin. They had agreed before arriving that, even if they failed to tell Adrien's father about Marinette's pregnancy, they would at the very least tell Nathalie. She deserved to know, and it wouldn't hurt to have someone else on their side, helping them actually get their family dinner with Mr. Agreste once he returned.

"I'm pregnant," Marinette told Nathalie, grinning as she patted her (still remarkably flat) stomach. "We're going to have a baby soon!"

Nathalie's eyes widened, and then a small smile slipped onto her face. "Oh! Congratulations!"

Adrien beamed. He knew that Nathalie would be excited for them.

It only took a second, however, before Nathalie realized what their earlier words had meant. She looked after the car vanishing down the street, and then promptly decided that Gabriel deserved to be kept in the dark for the two more months that he would be gone.

"Well, no one can say that you didn't try," she told them, a small grin appearing on her face. "You scheduled three dinners, and he canceled them, and then you showed up before he left and he still blew you off. Besides, you'll be at, what? Month five or so when he gets back? That's not insanely far along."

"Eight," Adrien and Marinette corrected in unison, and Adrien had a moment of glee as he watched Nathalie's eyes fly wide. For once (or once again, he supposed, but it was such a rare occurrence), they had managed to catch Nathalie off guard.

"Eight?"

"Well, eight and a quarter," Marinette corrected herself. "I'm just over six months now. We've been trying to tell Mr. Agreste for a month and a half, but he's been too busy."

"Six months," Nathalie repeated in clear disbelief. Then she gave herself a shake. "Well, with any luck, the tabloids won't have picked it up? I mean, it will be winter…"

Marinette perked up. "Oh! Chunky sweaters!"

"We have already told our other friends," Adrien told Nathalie as Marinette clearly drifted off into daydreams about fashionable chunky sweaters that she could find or make. "And Marinette's coworkers. We tried to tell Father first, but…"

"No, you shouldn't be expected to sit on your news just because Gabriel can't make space in his schedule," Nathalie told them briskly. "Even though he knew full well that I could have handled some of the meetings before he left, and I will be handling the ones that happen while he's gone. Maybe this will help him learn that he needs to stop canceling dinners with his family to do business outside of business hours. He was doing better after you got back from London, but he's really slipped recently. This should put him back in line."

Adrien gaped at Nathalie. Part of him had expected that she would tell him that he should have tried harder to get his father's attention somehow, but it sounded more like… "Nathalie, are you actually encouraging me to prank my father?"

"I prefer to call it malicious compliance, actually." Nathalie's lips turned up at the corners ever-so-slightly. "He's the one who insisted that he had to hear any news from you face-to-face. Personally, I can't wait to see his face when he gets back and finds out that you're expecting a baby in a month."

  All of Marinette's family was super, super excited for Emma to arrive. Her parents, of course, were counting down the days to Marinette's due date. Her Nonna Gina cancelled her trip to Peru so that she would be in the city when it was time for Marinette give birth, and her Lao-lao was going to fly over from China to visit after Emma was born. Between her family, friends, and coworkers- and, of course, her own very busy hands- Marinette already had baby clothes lined up for Emma's entire first year and (potentially) into her second.

"Some of this is resizable," Marinette commented as she and Adrien sorted through the clothes, hanging some things up in the closet that she had started clearing in the sewing-slash-baby room and folding others to put away in the dresser. "Other stuff Emma is going to outgrow in a couple months."

"And then Alya and Nino can borrow it for Elodie to wear," Adrien pointed out. "So it'll get a few more months of use before we have to put it into storage." He snickered. "Father is probably going to be beside himself that we already have all of Emma's clothes ready."

"The longer we go without telling him, the more nervous I get," Marinette admitted. She crouched down as much as she could to pet Masha as she wound herself around Marinette's ankles. "But at least we have Nathalie on our side."

"Nathalie is getting a huge kick out of this," Adrien assured her with a laugh. "I shouldn't have been surprised, honestly. She thought the prank wedding was hilarious after she figured us out." He reached over to squeeze her hand. "Honestly, he's going to have to admit that it was his own fault. We tried for six weeks in a row to schedule a dinner with him to share the news, and he either couldn't fit a dinner in or canceled it last-minute. And in the meantime, we've had dinners with your parents at least once a week, usually twice now that they know about Emma."

"Speaking of which, we need to finish this up and head over," Marinette commented, glancing at her watch. "We can't deny Maman her chance to coo over the tiny bump that's finally appeared."

Adrien laughed at that. "Alya is jealous, you know. Her bump is already bigger."

"I know." Marinette patted her stomach fondly. "I like that it's small, too. I'm not waddling or anything yet. Maman said that she was at seven months, but I've not really been affected at all yet. Well, besides getting tired and the cravings, at least."

It didn't take them long at all to finish folding and hanging up the rest of the clothes. Adrien grinned at the neat piles of tiny clothing as they got tucked away into the dresser that he and Marinette had gotten for Emma's stuff.

It was getting so real now. He couldn't wait to meet his daughter.

"Ready to go over to your parents' place now?"

"I gotta go to the bathroom first!" Marinette announced, making a beeline out of the room. "I'll be right out! And- oh my gosh, Adrien, can you keep Masha from following me into the bathroom? I don't need her staring at me when I'm trying to go."

"On it!" Adrien called, jogging to catch Masha before she could slip past Marinette into the bathroom. Ignoring her protests, he scooped her up and carried her into the living room so that Marinette could use the bathroom in peace. He snuggled their cat, grinning at the disgruntled look Masha sent him.

"Well, maybe Emma isn't announcing her presence with a huge belly, but she sure is having an impact on Marinette's bladder," Adrien told the cat, scratching under her chin until she started purring. "But you do know that you don't need to supervise, right? They'll be fine."

  Their efforts to get the baby room ready had started in earnest at seven months, two weeks. Adrien and Marinette had tried to keep everything more or less organized as they got more and more stuff for Emma, but sometimes organized meant stacking it neatly in the closet instead of having it out. But they would get more busy (and in Marinette's case, more tired) during the time before Marinette gave birth, so they had to get it done now.

The problem was that there wasn't quite enough space to have all of the baby stuff out and have Marinette's sewing things set up in the same room.

"What do you think about moving your sewing machine and desk and maybe the mannequins into our bedroom?" Adrien suggested. "We have a lot more space in there than in here. And once Emma starts crawling, we can keep her out of here and away from the pins and needles. If you had the machine in the living room area, she could get into things."

Marinette considered that, then nodded. "That sounds good. We might have to wait for my dad to come over to dinner to do that, because I don't think I'm meant to be lifting things."

"No lifting heavy things, yeah." Adrien glanced around the room. "Okay, so in the meantime- how much is there to get ready with the crib? I know you said that there can't be any blankets in the crib."

Marinette nodded. "Yeah, not for the first year. That's why we have the basket under the crib, to keep a couple blankets there for when we're holding Emma. The other blankets and the quilt I made are going in the top of the closet for now."

"And then we have a basket of burping cloths, and a space for packages of diapers, and we need to unearth the baby carrier," Adrien added. "Uh- do you want to put stuff in the baskets, maybe, and I can move the furniture around? And then we can sort out all of the toys that we've been getting from people."

"And then can you get the baby mobile up?" Marinette asked hopefully. "It's so cute, I just want to see it out of the box."

Adrien laughed as he remembered that particular present from Marinette's parents. Somehow they had found a pastry-themed mobile and had swapped out a couple of the duplicate cupcakes for baguettes and croissants. "We'll have to make sure that it's high enough that the cats don't go for it."

"Oh, we're going to find them in here, totally entranced by the mobile, aren't we?"

It didn't take long for the nursery to start to take shape. The crib was pushed to one corner and the changing table in another. Marinette packed up her sewing machine and Adrien carried it to their bedroom, along with the chair from her sewing table and her two mannequins. The things that they wouldn't need in the room but wanted ready- the baby carrier and the high chair- both got unpacked and placed next to the crib, and the packaging was brought out- well, after the use and cleaning instructions had been extracted and tucked away in Emma's dresser.

And that was pretty much all they got done for the day.

"Okay, I gotta sit," Marinette announced. "My ankles are starting to hurt. Maybe we can get more done tomorrow. Or the next day. Or next weekend."

"It's going to be a little difficult to move around in here until you get your sewing desk moved," Adrien agreed. "And we've made really good progress! I think that's enough for today."

"Can we make cookies now?" Tikki asked hopefully. "We ran out two days ago."

"I can make cookies," Adrien assured her. "Marinette? Any requests?"

"The sea salt pretzel ones, maybe?"

Adrien grinned. "The salt and sugar cravings are hitting again, aren't they?"

The only response that he got was Marinette's stuck-out tongue.

"Have you decided yet when you're going to start your maternity leave?" Adrien asked as they headed out to the living room. "I know you were planning on discussing it with Belle yesterday."

"She said that I can work as long as I want, and we can increase the number of days that I work from home as time goes on and I get too tired to go in to work," Marinette reported. "And then I think I have to start proper leave three weeks before my due date? That's what we've done the paperwork for, at least." She made a face. "I feel like I'm going to go either go crazy with boredom or with fussing around to try to make everything perfect. At least I'll have Tikki to talk to during the day."

"And you don't have to stay at home," Adrien reminded her, heading into the kitchen and starting to pull bowls down for the cookies. Tikki flew after him, interested. "It's not like you're on bed rest. You can go visit your parents. And didn't you say that Abbey might be visiting during that time?"

"She might, yeah. She hasn't decided for sure yet."

It didn't take long for them to fall into a comfortable silence. Marinette curled up with a blanket, a book, and the ever-hovering Masha while Adrien got down to work in the kitchen, tossing chocolate and butterscotch chips to Tikki as he mixed up the dough. After a while Sasha appeared, meowing for treats.

"Plagg, did you teach her to do this?" Adrien asked with some exasperation as Sasha made an attempt to climb up his leg. "She didn't use to be such a beggar."

"Blame my papa," Marinette called from the other room. "He's been teasing her with table scraps. I've been telling him not to, but he never listens."

"We might have to start shutting the cats up in the bedroom during dinner," Adrien suggested. He scooped Sasha up and carried her out to Marinette. "I need to put the cookies in the oven and I don't want her tumbling in."

"Double kitty cuddles!" Marinette snuggled Sasha under her chin. "You get to stay put, my little troublemaker."

Sasha let out an annoyed mmrew but stayed put.

Without a hungry shadow attached to his leg, Adrien finished scooping out the first trays of cookies in no time and put them in the oven. Once the timer was set, he pulled out his phone to check it. It wasn't long before he made a face and let out an irritated noise.

"What is it?"

"Nathalie just texted. Apparently my father wants to talk to us over Facetime. I'm guessing that not having the option of being able to call us over with a day's notice has been chafing at him a bit." Adrien rolled his eyes as he headed out to join Marinette on the couch. "Nathalie quoted him, actually- he said that he wanted to talk since we 'didn't have the chance to properly get together before his departure'."

Marinette snorted. "Gee, I wonder why."

"And we might as well do it, or we'll have him pestering us all the time," Adrien said, feeling a bit discouraged. He- well, they- had kind of been banking on the two-month separation (and the couple months of very minimal contact prior) would drive his father into actually honoring their scheduled dinner. With a Facetime "meeting" mid-vacation, Mr. Agreste would probably consider that enough interaction with his son and daughter-in-law for another couple months.

At this rate, Emma would already be born by the time Adrien's father could spare the time to meet with them again.

"Do you want to tell him the news when we're Facetiming him?" Marinette asked. "Or do you want to do the- what did Nathalie call it? Malicious compliance?"

Tikki frowned. "I don't like that name! It sounds mean."

"It just refers to deliberately following what someone said exactly, even if we know or suspect that it wasn't exactly what they actually meant." Adrien grinned. "Like, I bet my father would include Facetime as face-to-face interactions. We're ignoring that on purpose. I'd prefer to make him wait, honestly," he added to Marinette. "Since otherwise he's not going to bother ever having us over for dinner in person again."

Marinette laughed. "That's what I was thinking, too."

Even with Mr. Agreste's request, it took several days for them to get a Facetime video set up and actually get it done. He canceled on them once- apparently he had met a prospective client, which was maddening considering that he was meant to be on vacation and resting- and then actually honored the appointment the second time.

Adrien was Not Impressed.

As it turned out, his father mostly wanted to dictate a bunch of stuff to them about what should be going on at the company, since apparently Nathalie wasn't listening to him. His return was going to coincide with some sort of gala with investors and famous clients and assorted company staff for Gabriel, and he wanted to make sure that everything was perfect. He also wanted to make sure that Adrien and Marinette knew that they were expected to be there.

Adrien shot off a text to Nathalie that boiled down to please can you do this thing that my father is asking about and tell him you did because I don't want to deal with him bugging me about it until you do.

"Mr. Agreste, we don't have anything to do with the company," Marinette was saying in clear exasperation as Adrien pocketed his phone and glanced back up to re-join the conversation. "There's no point in contacting us about this stuff. Tell Nathalie or one of the other secretaries."

Mr. Agreste waved that objection off, just like he always did. "Yes, well, you're family. It's a family business. I've told you time and time again that you should-"

"She's told you no, over and over," Adrien cut across, his voice going steely. He was honestly tired of his father doing this, and Marinette shouldn't have to keep turning him down. It was exhausting, and Marinette was already getting tired more easily than usual. "She loves her job where she is, and the design aesthetic at Gabriel isn't anywhere near as good of a fit. Enough with the asking."

His father actually looked taken aback. Marinette reached over, squeezing Adrien's hand gently. He glanced over and she shot him a thankful look.

"How is the vacation going?" Adrien asked once he had taken a second to recompose himself. "Have you visited anywhere interesting?"

"I've been visiting a number of the typical inspiration locations and have found most lacking," Mr. Agreste said stiffly. "The crowds are atrocious, even at this time of the year. Perhaps especially at this time of the year. There are far too many people for my liking."

"Perhaps you could find some easy hikes to go on?" Marinette suggested weakly. "There won't be as many people there, surely, and the nature should be inspi-"

Mr. Agreste snorted, cutting her off mid-word. "It's far too warm in this part of the world to spend that much time outdoors, I haven't got the shoes for hiking nor the desire to, and what would I do if my heart decided to give me trouble while I'm out on my own? No, I won't do any hiking."

There was an awkward silence at that.

"Has- has your heart been giving you any trouble?" Adrien asked tentatively, since clearly attempting further suggestions would get nowhere. His father was determined not to enjoy his vacation, so there was no point in even trying to help.

Mr. Agreste snorted again, waving a dismissive hand. "Not at all. I've never had any trouble, so I don't know what my normal doctor was on about. It's just all exaggeration and nonsense."

...okay, yeah, Adrien was remembering why he hated trying to hold a conversation with his father so much.

Two minutes later, their conversation had devolved to talking about the weather and his father was looking increasingly irritated. Adrien hastily brought the conversation to an end, and both he and Marinette leaned back from the darkened computer screen with a sigh.

"I prefer talking to your Nonna to that," Adrien told Marinette. "She might not listen that well, but at least she clearly enjoys the places that she visits."

Marinette nodded, looking exhausted.

"And a gala…" Adrien let out a long breath. "Every time he tells us to go to one of those, I worry that he's going to try to use peer pressure to force you into the company. I hate it."

"By telling people that I'm going to join the company, you mean?" Marinette asked. "And thinking that I'll be forced to go through with it once it's out there? Because I think he knows that I wouldn't hesitate to correct him. Loudly. And that would just embarrass him."

Adrien laughed. "Yeah. If you had any less backbone, I think he would try it. But he knows that you aren't scared of him, so he has to at least pretend to behave." Then he got more serious. "But a gala when he comes back- you'll be at eight months. A little over, actually. You can't wear a chunky sweater to a gala."

"He can try to stop me," Marinette muttered rebelliously. Then she sighed. "I'm still really small. I could probably get away with wearing a flowy empire waist dress- actually, I know just the one. It's dark, so that's even better, and sleeveless, so I could wear an open-front sweater- hmm. I'm going to have to think about which one I could pair with the dress. But it's not impossible to hide my bump at a formal event. It's still tiny."

"And we can try to beg out early, as usual," Adrien told her. "Since I'm sure you'll be exhausted."

"I'll be on leave by then, so I can rest up and have all day to get ready. But I'll never argue with leaving early."

"Perfect."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Marinette sagging against Adrien's side as they recovered from the ridiculously exhausting video call. Then Adrien was hit by a fantastic idea.

"Say, I could go for some ice cream to recover from that whole conversation. Do you want any?"

Marinette perked up. "Oh my god, yes. Can I have pretzels with mine?"

"Whatever you want, my Lady."

[jocelynscloset]

Moonage Daydream Chapter 1 - Me and Bobby McGee

Part 2

Title Song & Inspiration : Me and Bobby McGee (View story playlist here)

Summary: 70s Adam Driver AU (multiple part fic) part one. The reader picks Adam up on the side of the road and they get to know each other...

Warnings: nothing for this part, but potential sexual content later on...

Word Count: 1,304

Feel free to tell me what you thought/send a request through my ask box

You’re cruising fast down the highway, Joplin filling up the silence in your truck while you bop your head to the steady beat. The sun is warming your skin through the windows, and your sunglasses are sliding down your face with every bump you roll over on the unkempt road. Your hair is blowing in the wind coming through your window, and you’re happy.

You see him in the distance, and you slow cautiously, contemplating offering a ride. He looks harmless, though he’s massive, and you can tell even though you’re at least 200 feet away. He’s far from town, though, and you know you’re probably the only person who’s not a truck driver who’ll be down this road for a while. 

You are driving away from the middle of nowhere, where your folks are settled down next to the Santa Clara river, and you guess that he’s probably looking for a ride the extra 50 miles to LA. You decide to give it a shot. Either way, you have a crowbar under your seat, so if he tries anything, you’re covered.

You roll to a stop and you reach across the center console to roll down the window. “Hey there, stranger.” You greet.

“Hey, I’m Adam. I was hoping to catch a lift to LA, if you’re able.” You nod and gesture for him to get in.

“Hope you’re not a murderer. I have a gun on me, and I’m a good shot.” He laughs at that, and assures you he’s perfectly normal and harmless. “How long have you been out here on the highway?” 

“Just a bit. I started walking about 2 hours ago. There was a party a few miles back in Santa Clarita and my ride forgot me.” You nod and he continues. “I’m a student at USC, but I took a weekend trip to visit some family.”

“Really? I was visiting my parents in Buckhorn, over on the riverside.” 

“You grow up there?” You shrug and reach up to pull down the shade. 

“I suppose, but I spent most of my time in Santa Clarita with friends. I was hardly ever home, especially during the summer. There isn’t much to keep a teenager occupied in Buckhorn. I had to drive to Clarita for school anyway.” He nods as you tell him about Buckhorn and the camping spots and some stories about when you were a teenager and you’d sneak away to Santa Clarita for parties in Oakmont, one of the more wealthy neighborhoods in the town.

“Sounds fun. I spent most of high school in my room studying or in my best friend’s garage.” You smile at that, and you both continue talking about your teenage years.

“We’ll be in LA in about 20 minutes if traffic is good. Where are you looking to be dropped off?” He shrugs, and you let him think.

“Maybe a diner somewhere. I’m pretty hungry and I’m not quite sure I want to go back to my friend’s place yet. They’re usually there all day and leave at night, so I’ll wait until they’re gone.” You nod and continue driving in silence until you hit the LA traffic. You see a long line of cars blocking the flow of the freeway, so you decide to turn into the parking lot of a tiny roadside diner. It looks quaint and not too busy, so you decide to treat your guest to lunch.

“So, what’s your story?” He asks you, as you both sit awkwardly at a corner booth in the diner, which is less busy than you thought it would be around lunch time. You shrug, thanking the nice waitress that brings you both cups and pours coffee in them.

“I was born here, and I grew up in Buckhorn. I’ve been here my entire life, and I’ll probably be here for the rest of it.” He smiles lightly and brings the warm mug to his lips. 

“I meant, like, your real story. The one that hasn’t started yet.” You tlt your head at that question, but you figure you’ll give it a shot. 

“Well, I’m a musician. That’s something, I guess.” He nods and looks at you to continue. “I’m in a band, we play new wave, and I’m the lead singer and guitarist. I live in a tiny two bedroom apartment, and I used to live there with my best friend until she ran off to London with some British guy she married in Vegas.” He sends you a sympathetic look and you shrug once again. You’re starting to feel very comfortable around this man, who is a total stranger, and for some reason you feel like you could tell him your deepest secret without hesitation. 

That feeling scared you.

“Interesting. I didn’t beg you as the singer-type, but the guitarist part suits you.” You smile and cast your eyes to the mug in front of you, which you have yet to touch. You sigh and take it, lifting it to your mouth and taking a big gulp of the steaming liquid.

“How about you? What are you doing in the city of angels? You don’t seem like the struggling artist type, to me.” He chuckles and sets his nearly empty mug down.

“I’m a Junior at USC. History major.” You smile and nod, casting your eyes down to your the mug, watching the dark liquid swish around at the slightest movement. You’ve always loved history, but in Buckhorn there was nobody who wanted to talk about anything other than fishing or the next party in Santa Clarita. You were starting to wonder how you never met this boy in high school. Oh right, he didn’t party all the time, hence college.

“Yeah, you definitely seem like a history major to me.” He smiles again, and for some reason, you feel this sense of.. pride, from getting him to smile. To you, it seems he’s a little closed off, reserved, and you’ve always loved getting into the hearts of people like that.

“Yeah, I’m a typical nerd. I’d like to think I’m a little less geeky than the usual type, though.” You almost respond too quickly at that. You want to tell him he’s too attractive to be considered a nerd, and that being well over 6 feet and built like a tank kind of excludes you from that title. Thankfully, you catch yourself and just nod. Nodding’s harmless, right?

The waitress returns and you both order your food. It arrives not too long after and you spend a good half hour eating together and discussing everything you can think of, from the Vietnam War to each other’s recent musical discoveries. Before long, it’s well past 2 PM and you’ve got to drop Adam off before heading to band practice.

You two split the bill and hop back in your truck. Adam reaches into the center console and pulls out a cassette tape; Fleetwood Mac’s recent album, Rumours. You smile when you hear Go Your Own Way playing through the speaker, and you two drive the last 20 minutes to the train station next to your apartment in South Pasadena, where you had decided to drop him off.

“Here’s my number. I live up the street from here, so feel free to stop by sometime if you have the chance.” He smiles at you and nods, taking the napkin you had scribbled your name and number on in the bathroom of the diner during lunch. 

“Will do. Thanks for the lift, and I enjoyed talking to you.” You both get a little lost in the moment, smiling at each other awkwardly for a good 10 seconds before he pulls the truck door open and steps onto the asphalt. He turns the corner and he’s out of your sight, and you wonder how you could feel so happy and.. satisfied, after one afternoon with a stranger.

Hopefully, he’ll be around again soon.

I really hope you guys enjoyed the first part of this new fic I’m starting with the 70s Adam concept. You all seemed pretty enthusiastic about it, so I created a plot for it and planned it out to make it a full on story. I have a lot of good stuff in store for all of you ;) Please leave any feedback you can, and feel free to leave any comments and reactions for me! If you wanna fangirl about 70s Adam, or any other type of Adam, I’m always willing to fangirl over on my spam blog, @bestbitterbetterspam. 

Also, if you want to be added to the taglist for this story, leave a comment down below letting me know!

Send me concepts to write about or send a request through my ask box!

Spam Blog // Ko-Fi // Masterlist *Any support over on Ko-Fi is very much appreciated. I’m a full time student, and have to stay caffeinated enough to write stories, so any contribution helps!*

[queeniesthoughts]

A Guy That I’d Kinda Be Into

Summary: Lance is going to get to the bottom of why Keith's been avoiding him.

Crossposted on Ao3

"Hey Pidge," Lance tries to get her attention. "Have you noticed how weird Keith has been lately. Every time I try to talk to him, he mumbles something, and then leaves. He'll stay out until he knows I'll fall asleep to come to the dorm and is gone by morning!" He yells, throwing his hands up and frowns at Pidge's lack of an answer. He was really worried about Keith. While they haven't always been on the best terms, he really thought their relationship was starting to evolve. Last week, Keith let him borrow a pencil in class! Keith never lets anyone touch his stuff! Something about germs or whatever.

Pidge, who was getting annoyed by Lance's constant pacing, decided to give him some advice."If you're that worried, go ask Shiro if Keith has mentioned anything that's happened lately." That was a great idea. If there was something wrong with Keith, then Shiro would definitely know. He thanked Pidge, rushing out the door like his life depended on it. Pidge rolled her eyes. It was obvious to everyone on campus what was wrong with Keith, except Lance that is.

"King of Romance, he calls himself," She snorted, writing down a few notes on her paper." Dumbass can't even control his own love life."

Lance ran down the hall like a madman. He was finally going to figure what was wrong with Keith. If Shiro didn't have the answer to his problems than he was going to do something desperate. Like kidnap Keith and make him tell Lance what was wrong with. Lance just got a manicure that he didn't want to ruin and didn't want to get beat up, so he filed that plan way back in his mind.

Although, he could only imagine the angry blush on Keith's face while yelled out profanities as Lance dragged him along. Keith sure was pretty when he blushed. Now that Lance thought about it, he really loved Keith's blush. Not only that, he loved Keith's smile, his soft black hair that he sometimes tied up into a ponytail, and made Lance want to cry about the sheer beauty that is Keith Kogane. Lance was too busy daydreaming about Keith to notice that the real Keith was turning the corner. Until both of them slammed violently into each other that is.

"Shit!" Keith gasped out. He grabbed out for a source of support but was met with air. He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable pain that was to come.

It never came.

Warm arms wrapped around him. He found himself buried into his Savior's chest. Whoever they were, they smelled heavenly. It was an odd mixture of the ocean and laundry detergent. How can someone manage to smell like the actual ocean? There weren't oceans nearby. An unusual smell but a surprisingly pleasant one.

"Wow Keith, first all you do is avoid me, now you look like you never want to let me go." Joked Lance. He may have looked calm on the outside but the inside he was having a panic attack. Keith was in his arms, Keith had sniffed him, and seemed to like the way he smelled. Bonus points for Lance. He's not sure what do now. Should continue to hold Keith and never let go or detangle himself. He liked the former option. Keith's body fits perfectly with his own. As if the universe knew they were made for each other and made Keith's body specifically to fit Lance's body like a puzzle piece. That analogy sounded complicated but that was Lance and Keith's relationship. Complicated.

Unfortunately, Keith had decided for both of them. He pushed himself out of Lance's arms, moving as far away from Lance as possible. A look of hurt crossed Lance's face. It reminded him of the reason he had crashed into Keith in the first place. He was running to find Shiro because Keith was avoiding him.

"Are you mad at me?" He whispered.

Keith, who all this time was trying to avoid eye contact, snapped his head to look Lance. "No!" He protested. The last thing he wanted was Lance to feel like he was mad at him. He grabbed Lance's hands into his. "No," He said again, this time more softly. Lance looked at their intertwined fingers, feeling his face start to heat up. Keith cleared his throat. "It's just," He started, sounding frustrated. "When we got lost in the woods last week, at first I thought how unlucky I was that of all people, that it was you I got lost with." Lance felt his heart drop. Keith really hated him that much?

Keith dropped his hands to his lap. Lance missed the warmth."But then I got hurt, and you wouldn't leave me, not even to get help." He gave Lance pointed look. "Which was pretty stupid might I add."

"It's not like I could've anyway, we were lost." Lance pouted. He crossed his arms. "Where are you going with this?" He bet you people were staring at them, thinking they were a couple of weirdos. They were sitting in the middle of the floor. He's not sure when he even sat down!

"I don't like many people," Keith coughed. Lance laughed, now it was Keith's turn to blush. " It's especially frustrating, when this guy that you thought you knew, goes and messes up your emotions!"

"Is he talking about me?"

"From that one day, you went from a guy that I'd never be into." Here goes, Keith's heart was pounding, he was going to finally tell Lance how he felt. "To a guy that I kinda be into."

Lance is pretty sure his brain short-circuited right then and there. Maybe he had heard wrong because there's no way, Keith "I'm too cool for school" Kogane liked him. He glanced Keith. The same Keith that Lance fantasizes about every single day. The Keith who had just confessed. The Keith who was probably waiting for an answer. Lance opened up his mouth to tell the black haired boy that he very much returned his feelings.

"So, you avoided me because you couldn't handle the gay feelings for me. Keith, that's not how you get your feeling across." That's totally not what he meant to say. "That smooth, real smooth. Now, Keith was going to take back his confession." He thought. Keith was unimpressed with Lance's lack of brain-to-mouth filter. "Uh, what I meant to say was go on date with me."

Keith wasn't sure what to say. He honestly didn't think he was gonna get this far. He expected Lance to reject him gently, then for both them to spend the rest of their lives awkwardly avoiding each other. Shiro's advice didn't include anything about dates, neither did those self-help books dammit. "Yeah, okay, let's go on date." He stuttered out.

"When you asked me on a date, I didn't think you meant now. I didn't even have time to grab my jacket." Keith mumbled. He hated the winter, it was cold, he constantly slipped on the ice, and overall, he much preferred the summer. Unlike his companion, Lance didn't mind winter at all. Sure, he liked spring more because it wasn't too cold or too hot.

"Oh come on Keith, don't be such a downer. It's our first official date." Lance said taking of his own jacket. He draped it on Keith's shoulders. He was wearing a sweater underneath, so he didn't need it. Plus, he kinda felt bad, seeing as it was his fault Keith was out here with out one. Keith let out a noise of appreciation. He'd forget his jacket a thousand times if it meant he could wear Lance's. It was big on Keith and basically swallowed him whole, but to Keith it was perfect.

"Now where do you wanna go first, the skating rink or maybe that new cafe," Lance paused to think. "Castle of Lions", I think that's what it's called. I don't know why it has a such a weird name, but I'm pretty sure Allura works there and she can give us a friend discount." Lance needed to start paying attention to his surroundings, because for the second time today, Lance smashed into something. Only this time, it was not a person. No, that would be too good for Lance. This time, Lance smashed into a fountain.

He was quickly engulfed in water colder than Pidge's glares when he steals the last of Hunk's cookies. He didn't know if he was glad that water had not frozen over or not. In the end deciding that cold water was better than hard, cold, ice. What had he done to deserve such a cruel fate as this? He was a model citizen, he helped old ladies across the street and most of the time turned in all his homework.

A sound broke his train of thought. This sound caused his chest to tighten. It wasn't like anything had ever heard in his life. His eyes scanned the courtyard to find where the majestic noise was coming from. They landed on Keith. It was coming from Keith. Keith was laughing at him. Not a little chuckle, but full blown laughter.

"I'm sorry," Keith apologized, trying to get his laughter under control and failing miserably. "It's just, how do you WALK into a fountain?!" Keith couldn't help it anymore, Lance looked silly with his long limbs spread in such a tiny fountain. He was now hunching over, amusement all over his face. Lance was sure he was going to fall over.

That moment, Lance made a vow. A vow to make Keith laugh every single day as long as he lived. The world could not go on being deprived of something so wonderful. Keith moved to go help Lance out of the fountain.

"Come on, let's go back to our dorm before you die of hypothermia. We'll drink hot chocolate and watch those trashy drama TV shows you like. " Lance shivered but nodded. He would follow Keith to the end of the Earth.

As they walked back to their room, Lance couldn't stop the grin that split across his face, despite not being able to feel his toes. He's not sure how this development in their relationship is going to pan out. It's going to be a long and weird process. They would figure it out together though because they were Lance and Keith.

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

I sent this on mobile so sorry if it's a duplicate, but I haven't seen it yet so I think it might not've gone through. Drabble request: TWW, post-series, domesticity preferably with kids, but also some career stuff, ship/character pairing of your choice

Okay, this is so not a drabble :) but it was fun to write! Borrows from these headcanons I accidentally created that one time.

1,500 words of Josh/Donna fluff, with an appearance from Zoey Bartlet and references to several other characters. Also on AO3.

He’d learned long ago to pick his battles, though, with two little girls who had inherited their mother’s fighting spirit. When their favorite bedtime story became “the time Mommy blew up” he knew he was in for trouble.

Fighting with his tie as he came downstairs, Josh found his daughters sprawled on the couch.

“Remember, Zoey’s coming over to babysit today.”

“Yes!” Jo high-fived her little sister, beaming at Josh. “She promised next time she was gonna teach us how to flip a grown man over our shoulder.”

He paused on his way into the kitchen, turning slowly to face them. “Seriously? That’s not just a funny joke you guys are practicing to scare your mom with?”

“Dad.” Charlotte rolled her eyes at his lameness. “It’s totally safe. She learned it from her bodyguards.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” He’d learned long ago to pick his battles, though, with two little girls who had inherited their mother’s fighting spirit. When their favorite bedtime story became “the time Mommy blew up” he knew he was in for trouble.

Or maybe he’d already figured that out, the moment Brianna Joan first blinked up at him with her pale eyelashes and deep brown eyes. A world of trouble–realizing that he was a father now, that nothing would ever be the same.

“Mom,” Jo yelled, making him wince at the assault on his eardrums. She had her mother’s lungs. “You want us to be able to kick butt, right?”

Donna stood in the kitchen doorway, half-dressed for her morning meetings but still in her pajama shirt while she cooked. “I feel like that’s a trick question,” she answered, regarding the three of them. “Come eat your waffles, girls.”

“What about me? Don’t I get waffles?”

“That depends,” she replied. “Are you going to be able to make our lunch date today?”

“Come on, it’s not like I make a habit of missing–”

“The last three, Joshua,” she argued, cutting him off. “You had to reschedule the last three.”

He held up his hands in defense. “I know, I know. I’m sorry! I would’ve much rather met you for lunch than gotten stuck with lawyers from K Street.”

“Yeah, well, CJ and I are meeting with senators today and the Belgian ambassador. If I can make lunch, so can you.”

He crossed to the doorway and kissed her. “I’ll be there.”

“Good. Then you get waffles.” She grinned at him when he leaned in for another kiss, and there was a chorus of booing from the kitchen table.

“Some of us are trying to eat,” Charlotte said.

“Anyway,” he told Donna, taking his seat and ignoring the peanut gallery, “I have a light day. Toby’s coming in, so I cleared most of my morning.”

“Well, that’s something, then. He won’t let you stand me up.” Donna brought over the last of the waffles and finally dug into her own breakfast. “What’s he up to?”

“He’s bringing Huck by.”

“Because fifteen-year-olds are really into campaign finance reform these days?”

Josh laughed. “No…apparently he told Andy that he’s aiming to go to Harvard. Toby wants me to talk him out of it.”

“Is Molly coming too?” Jo asked between bites. Toby’s daughter was the softball-playing, video-game-killing hero of their twelve-year old tomboy. While Charlie was artistic, with her mom’s dancer form, their eldest wouldn’t be caught dead in a tutu or at the piano.

“Sorry, kiddo, just her brother.”

No longer interested, Jo dropped her silverware onto her plate with a clatter. “Done. Thanks for breakfast, Mom.”

Donna swallowed and nodded. “Dishes in the sink, Jo.”

She was out and up the stairs before her sister had the chance to finish her own meal. Charlotte habitually moved at her own pace, daydreaming over her butter-drenched waffles as her parents talked around her.

“Which senators are you and CJ talking to today?”

“Texas and Arizona.”

“Fun…and Belgium?”

“Clean energy.”

“Right. How’s that going?”

She dipped the last of her waffle in syrup, keeping one eye on the clock. “About as well as can be expected. Looking at European models has been helpful, but it’s not like that gains us much traction in the South.”

“Well, I’m not sure anything would,” Josh pointed out. “They’ve dug their heels in pretty good against climate change.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“Daddy?” Charlotte interjected. “Can I come with you to work?”

Donna raised her eyebrows at Josh, as surprised as he looked.

“Don’t you want to stay here and play with Zoey?”

“Not today…at school, they said Take Your Daughter to Work Day is next week.”

“Oh.” He stared blankly at Donna. Wasn’t that one of those made-up holidays, like the kind the President proclaimed that he used to mock? “Are you sure…I mean, wouldn’t you have more fun going with your mom?”

She beamed at Donna, all careless sweetness and light. “Nope. I wanna go with you. Can I?”

“Sure you can,” her mom answered. “Can’t she?”

Trapped, Josh tried not to panic at the idea of keeping his dreamy-eyed daughter entertained for an entire day full of politics. “Of course. Sounds great, honey.”

“Charlie, you’ve got ten more minutes until Zoey gets here,” Donna pointed out, now that that was settled. “If you don’t get going, Jo will have a head start at learning how to knock people unconscious.”

“Oh!” Rushing through her second waffle, their blue-eyed sprite leapt out of her chair. Charlotte’s pale ringlets bounced behind her as she ran back to the living room, forgetting to soak her dishes or properly be excused.

Donna sighed, and Josh smiled at her. Maybe manners were a work-in-progress, but just look at the beautiful little people they were raising.

“You know what this means, don’t you?”

She blinked. “What?”

“You’re gonna have to take Jo.”

“Good,” she replied, pointing her fork at him. “She’ll have a lot more fun with me than doing whatever Charlotte gets stuck with at your office.”

“Hey! My office is nonstop fun. Just last week, the President sent balloons to surprise Bram on his birthday.”

“Wow, balloons. I stand corrected.”

“I’m just saying, I can give our budding Warhol a painting app to play with and she’ll sit in a corner all day. Meanwhile, you’ll have a tiny lightning bolt on your hands while you talk to the Attorney General.”

“And I’m sure she’ll enjoy our daughter’s energy.”

“There’s about a fifty percent chance our daughter’s energy will end up setting something on fire.”

Donna took her plate to the sink. “She gets that from you.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I know.”

The door buzzed, and Donna went to answer it. Josh cleared the rest of the table while he listed to the clatter of feet racing back downstairs, and the commotion of the girls greeting their favorite sitter.

“You’ll teach us the flip, right, Zoey?”

“I drew you a horse! Come see.”

Donna’s laugh carried to where he stood. “Girls, let her breathe.”

Dishes soaking, he joined them in the living room. “Hey, Zoey. What’s on today’s agenda?”

“Oh, you know. Running with scissors, ice cream for lunch…the usual.”

“Right.” He smirked at President Bartlet’s youngest, now a rising star at the NGO his wife was running with CJ. “Well, just try to keep them in one piece, would you? They’ve got delusions of badass.”

“No delusions here,” she argued, tossing her hair back. “They are badass.”

“That, they get from me,” Donna told him, grinning. “Thanks for this,” she added in Zoey’s direction. “I’ll buy you lunch tomorrow after the conference.”

“No worries. You know I love your baby feminists.” Zoey wrapped an arm around Charlotte when the girl sidled up to her. “We’ll have a blast. Go focus on your world leaders–and tell CJ I’ll be in early tomorrow, ‘kay?”

“Will do.” Donna turned toward Josh as the girls led Zoey upstairs. “Josh, your tie is a mess.”

“I wasn’t fully awake yet,” he protested, holding still as she leaned in to fix it.

“Yes, but you’ve been wearing a tie for decades,” she pointed out. “Shouldn’t you have the hang of it by now?”

“Why would I bother?” He asked with a smile. “If I could fix my own tie, you might stop doing it for me.” Josh took her hands in his and kissed the fingers that had successfully tidied it up.

“I’ve gotta head out,” he said reluctantly, catching a look at the clock behind her. “See you at lunch, Donnatella.”

“You better.” Her lips meeting his in farewell lingered just a little longer than necessary.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there. Really. After all, I got waffles.”

“Make it on time,” Donna told him with a sly grin, “and you’ll get something even better tonight.”

His eyes widened. “I’ll be early,” Josh promised, kissing her again before he left.

She headed upstairs to finish getting ready, humming happily to herself. There was still only one way to render Josh Lyman speechless, and it was her favorite thing in the world.

When he got a good look at the teddy and garters she’d picked up over the weekend, he was going to forget his own name.

Then he would make her forget hers.

[folklore-musings]

After School Special Part 5

Summary:  In an alternate universe where Jughead greases his hair more than Danny Zuko and Betty Cooper gives Sandy Olsson a run for her money at being the nicest girl in town. (No Danny Zuko and Sandy do make an appearance in this fic). Set in the early 1960s at Riverdale High. Slow burn leads to rapid fire (all the bughead smut you can imagine)

Part One   Part Two   Part Three   Part Four

Read on AO3 here

tags: @thejugheadshow @xobughead @de6ressive @starlitsummersky

Once inside her home, Betty released herself from Jughead’s jacket and snuck it upstairs into her room before her mother had a chance to catch her. Her mother, Alice, was not a fan of the Southside Serpents. Whenever the topic of them came up at the dinner table, which wasn’t often, she would scoff and begin to go on and on about how they were scum low lives who didn’t give a damn about anybody but themselves. Betty had always believed anything Alice said when it came to the Serpents, but the more she spent time with Jughead, she realized he was nothing like what her mother described.

At school on Monday, things had returned back to normal between the Jughead and Betty. She returned his jacket when she saw him, apologizing for keeping it over the weekend. He thanked her and kept on walking, swinging the jacket on over his shoulders as he did.

What she didn’t mention to Jughead was the fact that she’d slept in the jacket all weekend long. Despite smelling like an ashtray, the jacket was warm and inviting, swallowing Betty up into her own little black hole. Ironic as it was, when wrapped in Jughead’s jacket she felt safe, even if the boy who owned it was the most dangerous boy in town.

She’d been mulling over what happened all weekend, still thinking it was some weird, twisted dream. She didn’t know how to react so she asked him to take her home. And three days later she still didn’t know what to think; if she was another conquest or if Jughead actually liked someone other than himself and Archie Andrews.

Needing another’s opinion, Betty confided in Veronica and Kevin at lunch, making them swear they wouldn’t tell a soul what she said. “Cross my heart.” They sang in unison, giving Betty their full, undivided attention.

She went on to explain every detail of her drive down to Blue Bend Park with Jughead. Their expressions were priceless, and when she mentioned the almost kiss, Kevin clapped a hand to his mouth and Veronica clutched her pearls. “What?” she cried, earning the threesome a few side glances from the tables surrounding them.

“Ronnie!” Betty cried, burying his face in her hands.

“I’m sorry! I wasn’t expecting such a turn of events.”

Kevin interjected. “Girls girls, please! Betty, continue. What happened next?”

She drew her lip in and sighed. “I asked him to take me home. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Ronnie took a deep breath. “Shut up. You mean you’re telling me you were sitting in the front seat of Jughead’s car, he had his arm around you, he tried to kiss you…and all you do in response is ask him to take you home? Am I getting this right?”

Betty nodded, the end of her ponytail tickling the nape of her neck, sending a light shiver down her spine. “Sounds like it.”

Kevin looked from Betty to Ronnie, his mouth still agape. “Well, I definitely wasn’t expecting that. Why didn’t you let him kiss you?”

Betty threw her hands in the air. “It’s Jughead; would you let him kiss you? Actually – don’t answer that. You’ll kiss anybody.” Betty placed her hands in her lap, clenching her fists until she could feel her nails gouging tiny little crescents in her palms. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Well do you like him?” Ronnie asked, popping a grape into her mouth.

Betty shrugged, cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “I think so.”

“Then talk to him about it.” Ronnie urged, Kevin nodding in agreeance. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“No. And remember, this conversation does not leave this table.” Betty glanced over into the corner of the cafeteria where Jughead and Archie sat in the middle of a circle full of greasers. She watched him as he laughed at a joke she couldn’t hear. He looked up at that moment, catching her in her stare as she looked away. Her previously pink cheeks were now a violent shade of red. There was no way she was telling Jughead anything about her feelings for him. She was still trying to figure them out for herself.

◊◊◊

It was the end of November, and Jughead had three weeks left of his time on the Blue and Gold. His English grades had improved, solidifying his chances of graduating in the spring. Posted all around the school on lockers, walls and doors were posters for the Winter Dance. Each time Jughead passed one he tore it down, tossing it into the nearest garbage bin. Dances were stupid. Why spend a Saturday night in the school gymnasium with crappy music when he could be cruising in his rag or hanging out at Pop’s? There was just one issue: Betty was going to the dance.

He’d overheard her talking to Ronnie about it during study hour the other day. Each girl going on and on about who they wanted to go with, his heart sinking when Betty didn’t mention his name – or anyone’s name. Ronnie kept going on and on about Archie, since he’d broken up with Cheryl a week ago.

Ever since he’d found out she was going, Jughead’s malice toward the dance softened. He even considered asking her – until he remembered the night by the river. He didn’t want to risk making an idiot of himself again.

“Hey Jug.” Archie called from behind him, dodging other students in the hall to try and catch up. “I called your name like three times. You didn’t hear me?”

Jughead shook his head, a piece of perfectly greased hair falling into his face haphazardly. “Sorry Arch. What’s up?” Jughead followed the ginger boy outside to the parking lot, stopping to talk between their cars. The weather was unusually cold for November. He shivered in his leather jacket; sure his hair would freeze if he stayed out there too long.

“Cheryl won’t leave me alone. I was just using you for a getaway.” Archie replied. He offered Jughead a cigarette, the dark haired boy accepting it and striking a match to ignite it.

“Glad I could be of service.” He could see his breath looming between them in frigid air. “Want to continue this conversation at my place? My dad’s gone and I don’t want to miss the new episode of Leave It to Beaver.”

“Alright, I’ll follow you there.”

Archie was the only friend of his that he invited over. Jughead wasn’t proud of his family home – if you could even call it that. His parents split up a few years ago, his mom taking his little sister with her, leaving Jughead to fend for himself with his dad. He wouldn’t call his dad horrible, just misguided when it came to his family. FP couldn’t keep a job even if his life depended on it and he spent more time at the bar with his buddies than at home. Within the last week Jughead maybe saw his dad once – and he’d been passed out cold on couch, a bottle of beer dangling from his lifeless hand.

Sometimes it bothered Jughead how fucked up his family was. He dreamed of a perfect family, with a mom who stayed home and baked all day and a dad that worked a normal 9-5 job to provide for them. He knew that was the reason why he was hooked on so many family sitcoms. Jughead just wanted a boring, normal life with a family that cared about him. But he wasn’t that lucky. So instead he kept around friends like Archie, who stood with him through thick and thin.

The two of them had plans for after graduation. Plans they’d had since grade school. To pack everything they had into the back of Jug’s car and never come back to this hell hole of a town they hated. He and Archie were going to travel down the coast of the Pacific, all the way to Hollywood to live out their dreams. But as of late, there was another who snuck her way into his futuristic daydreams; a girl with bright blue eyes as deep as the ocean and golden hair like the sun.

Jughead punched the edge of his steering wheel. He couldn’t have a singular, solemn thought without Betty’s face fogging up his brain and making him smile like an idiot. It was starting to drive him crazy. Desperate for a distraction, Jughead was happy to see his house in the distance. He took a stiff turn into his driveway, Archie pulling in right behind him.

“Do you think your dad has any beer in the fridge?” Archie asked.

“Most likely. Knock yourself out if you want one.” Jughead led Archie through the living room and into the kitchen. He grabbed a soda while Archie grabbed a bottle of Miller High Life from the fridge. Jughead turned the TV and Archie flopped onto the couch, setting his feet on the table. “So, Cheryl issues?”

“Right,” Archie took a swig, swallowing quickly. “She keeps cornering me to try and get me to take her back. The bitch is crazy Jughead. I swear.”

Jughead opened his eyes wide in feigned surprise. “What made you come to that conclusion?”

“She likes – weird stuff. And that’s all I’m saying. I just don’t know how to get rid of her. It’s like she’s everywhere. Starting to really freak me out actually.”

Jughead placed the soda bottle to his lips, thinking of the pickle his friend was stuck in. “You know, I overheard Ronnie and Betty in the library the other day. Your name may have come up in their conversation.”

Archie places his beer on the table and stares at Jug. “What did they say?”

“Veronica Lodge is smitten with you Archie.”

“Well I’ll be damned.” Archie exhaled loudly, absorbing this new information with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Maybe I should ask her to that dance next Saturday?” He nudges Jughead’s shoulder. “And you could ask Betty. We could all go together.”

Jughead shakes his head. “No. I’m not going to some stupid dance so you can try and score with Veronica Lodge.”

“Apparently I won’t even have to try if she’s already thinking the same thing.” He arched an eyebrow. “But why not? You and Betty, me and Veronica. I think it’s a great idea.”

“You also thought dating Cheryl Blossom was a great idea. And look at you now. Slumming it on my couch, watching Leave It to Beaver with me on a Friday afternoon.”

Archie flipped him the bird. “Whatever. I’ll ask Veronica either way. Maybe she’ll be at Pop’s tonight.”

Jughead sighed and took another sip of his coke. “It’s Friday night, everyone is going to be Pop’s.”

“Perfect.” Once Archie was a set on a decision there was no talking him out of it. Jughead sighed, praying his friend wouldn’t drag him into the whole charade. Last thing he needed was another awkward encounter with the girl of his dreams.

◊◊◊

Betty stood by Ronnie in the bathroom at Pop’s. Ronnie admired her pearls while Betty fluffed the curls in her ponytail. She puckered up, dabbing her lips with her signature Pink Perfection lipstick. “Ready?” Ronnie asked Betty. The blonde nodded her head, clenching her fists in anticipation as she followed her friend out of the girl’s room.

The greasers had walked in a few minutes before, claiming their regular booth in the corner of Pop’s diner. Archie forced his way through a throng of freshman crowded around the jukebox while Jughead and Joaquin waited for him to pick some songs.

Betty and Ronnie grabbed two stools at the bar near Jughead’s table. They each ordered a milkshake and shared a basket of fries. “Do you really think this will work?” Betty asked Ronnie under her breath, playing with the silk handkerchief around her neck.

“Oh my little naïve Betty, of course it will. Have I ever steered you wrong before?” Ronnie smiled her thousand dollar smile and fingered the pearls dangling from her neck.

“I mean if you want to be technical – “ Betty started, Ronnie cutting her off before she had the chance to finish.

“Stop it. Jughead is so totally gone for you. Anyone can see it. And Archie? Well he likes any girl with a pulse, so that keeps me in the running.” Betty laughed and pushed her negative thoughts to the side.

Pop brought them their shakes and their fries, refusing their money for payment. “It’s already taken care of ladies, courtesy of the hoodlums behind you.” Pop reached back to the counter behind him, turning around with two plates, two burgers on one and a hot dog with fries on the other. “Mind taking these over to them? That way you can thank them and I can catch up with line of people at the register.”

Veronica and Betty graciously accepted the plates and smiled at Pop. “No problem. Thank you.”

The girls hopped off their stools and headed for Jughead’s table. “Goldie Locks, are you looking to add waitress to your resume?” Betty handed him the plate with two burgers, stealing a pickle slice from the side. “That’s coming out of your tip sweetheart.”

“And what tip would that be?” Betty asked, biting her lip and looking at him under fluttering eyelashes.

“To thank the boys that paid for your milkshake. Nothing in this world is free.”

Before Betty could speak, Veronica beat her to it. “Thank you Jughead. We are forever in your undying debt.”

Archie cut in, “Well in that case, do you want to join us? Joaquin get out of here, make some room for these lovely River Vixens.” Betty felt bad for taking Joaquin’s place, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Joaquin tugged at the opening of his jacket and ran a hand through his slick hair. “Whatever, I’ve got better things to do anyway.”

As Joaquin fled, Betty and Ronnie grabbed their shakes and fries, slipping into the booth with Jughead and Archie. Jughead reached for a fry from the basket and popped it into his mouth.

“So ladies, you’ve decided to take a walk on the wild side. How does it feel so far?” Archie asked, taking a biting of his hotdog and sipping from his coke. Betty never understood how people could do that. Take a drink while they were still chewing. It grossed her out.

“Feels pretty tame to me, Archiekins.” Ronnie joked, catching Betty’s eye from across the table and smiling.

“You haven’t witnessed anything yet.” Archie said, wrapping his arm around Ronnie’s shoulder. “Are you girls going to the dance next weekend?”

Betty’s heart beat a little faster in her chest. She noticed the sparkle in Ronnie’s eyes at the mention of the dance. She’d only been waiting for Archie to ask her all week. “Maybe, it depends.”

“Depends on what?” Archie asked.

“Are you asking or just making small talk?”

Archie looked at Jughead, some silent conversation playing about on their features. Betty tried to follow but was lost. Instead she directed her attention to her milkshake, lazily stirring the creamy texture with her straw and tossing the cherry into her mouth. A thud was heard beneath the table and Betty noticed the way Jughead was wincing in pain. Boys are strange, she thought.

Stifling a laugh Archie spoke up. “Would you want to go with me, Betty, to the dance that is?” Ronnie’s and Jughead’s jaws dropped almost simultaneously. There was a fire in the raven haired boy’s eyes that Betty had never seen before. Her stomach flipped at the sight.

“D-Don’t you mean Ronnie?” Jughead stammered.

Archie tapped his chin thoughtfully. “No. I’m pretty sure I know who I want to take to the dance Jug. I don’t need your input.”

“Betty, he’s joking. Don’t listen to him. He’s just being an ass.” Jughead took a bite of his burger with a sour look on his face.

“But why would I joke about something like that Jughead? Unless there’s something you want to ask Betty? Is there?” Jughead continued to chew his burger, staring daggers at Archie. The ginger boy leaned into Ronnie and whispered something in her ear, making her smile and her ears turn pink. She nodded happily and took a bite of fry.

Jughead finally swallowed and cleared his throat. “I fucking hate you Andrews.” He kicked Archie under the table, harder than he’d been kicked the first time.

“Wait, what’s going on here? Is there something you want to ask me Juggie?” Betty crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“Not really – but I guess I have to now.” Jughead took a quick sip of his coke and continued. “Do you want to go to the dance with me next Saturday?”

“I’d really like that.” Betty reached out to grab Jughead’s hand resting on the tabletop between them. Everyone at the table was smiling, but none compared to his. Betty swooned at the sight – it wasn’t often she saw him smile. Sure, he would grin smugly smirk all the time, but actually smile? A smile from Jughead was a rarity. And Betty loved being the reason behind it. 

[itscooltobefanficy]

Feeling Alive- Part 2

Summary: Dance school!AU (or the Step Up/Pride and Prejudice mash up nobody asked for). Bucky Barnes is forced to take twelve hours of commercial dance classes to pass the year- and that just happens to be your regular weekly dance class.

Introduction

Part 1 (Slow Hands)

Stay

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Chapter 3/?: Stay

Word count: 3494

Warnings: Mild physical injury

I’m really astonished by the feedback for this! Thank you to everyone who’s liked so far and/or asked to be added to the tag list. And thanks as always to @systemfailuresunshine for putting up with me <3 See bottom for author notes!

You’re running late, again. Groaning in frustration, you seize your keys from the table and grab your bag from the floor where you’d dumped it on your way in. Trainers, water bottle, towel- all in there. Thankfully you’d packed everything you needed this morning, and, on the upside, at least it isn’t raining. You lock up behind you and check your pockets for change. A handful of coins rattles at your touch: you sigh with relief. You can get the bus to the studio. You heft your bag onto your shoulder and set off in the direction of the stop.

It’s Wednesday, and the weather has, thankfully, done a complete U-turn since last week. The sun has been shining all day, accompanied by the merest handful of puffy clouds. You’ve caught yourself staring wistfully out of the library windows more than once; at least until Nahid inevitably throws a balled-up returns receipt at your head to shatter your daydreaming. Right now, though, you don’t need to hurry- the bus isn’t due until quarter-to- so you take your time to enjoy the walk in the gilded evening light.

That enjoyment is cut short, however, when you round the corner and catch a glimpse of who else is waiting for the bus. You balk for a second, then pull yourself together. You’re just going to walk up to this collection of tall, beautiful dancers and act completely natural. Nothing to worry about whatsoever.

They don’t notice you as you draw closer, so you take the opportunity to study them. Your ‘friends’ from last week have their backs to you, but the two people they’re chatting to are exactly what you’d envisage if somebody said ‘ballet school’. The white girl is both tiny and leonine, with vibrant red hair pulled back in a bun; the guy has flawless dark skin and muscles that stand out beneath his white t-shirt. You square your shoulders and cover the remaining distance.

“Hey.”

Steve, predictably, turns around with a smile.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You smile tightly as the girl lifts her gaze to coolly survey you. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see James’ expression clouding over. Internally, you tut exasperatedly.

“Wait, this is Y/N? The one who schooled you on the way home last week?” The other guy snorts and holds out a hand. “Sam. Nice to meet you.”

“I see my fame precedes me,” You joke, dryly, as you grasp his palm. “Although what these two have been telling you-”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” The girl steps forward. “It’s good for them to have somebody disagree with them. Natasha.”

“Nice to meet you,” You say, on reflex, even as Steve makes a strangled noise beside you.

“Oh yeah, like you don’t do that enough, Nat-”

She looks up at him, eyebrows raised. “It’s nice to have some back-up, Rogers. Keeping your egos at a manageable size is at least a two-person job.”

“Objection, Romanoff. We’re not the ones attempting the ‘most difficult audition piece this academy has ever seen’.”

You blink in surprise. Unless you’re very much mistaken, James just said something that wasn’t horrifically serious.

Natasha just rolls her eyes. “You’re one to talk, ‘only dancer to achieve full-marks in your first-year practical exam’.”

Sam grins conspiratorially at you. “And then there’s me, who’s just average. I honestly don’t know why they keep me around.”

Steve claps him on the shoulder. “You and me both, Sam.”

You laugh. “And here I am: a librarian. I feel like a sore thumb.”

“Hey,” Steve wags a finger at you, “There’s no such thing as ‘just a librarian’.”

“Yeah,” Nat says, even as she steps to the curb to throw out her hand for the bus, “Librarians will be our saviours when the apocalypse comes.”

“Care to tell my employers that? I could do with a raise…”

The brakes hiss as the double-decker lumbers to a stop and the doors slide open. Sam steps aside to allow you and Nat on first. You pay your fare and follow her to the back seats.

“So are you and Sam taking the same module as those two?”

Nat nods as she gracefully sits by the window.

“We’ve got salsa.”

“And it’s not as bad as she says,” Sam cuts in, dropping into the seat beside you. Nat tsks.

“You just like it because you like having it easy.”

“Oh yeah, because that’s so foolish, having two hours a week where all you have to remember is basic, basic, turn, basic…”

You snigger. “Maybe I should sign up for salsa. I don’t think Wanda knows what easy is.”

“Wanda’s the hot teacher?” Sam asks; then raises his hands in surrender as you lift your eyebrows in a very pointed manner. “I’m just going off the information I’ve been given!”

“Which one of you has been describing Wanda as hot?” You demand, as Steve and James make their way down the aisle (Steve has to duck his head to avoid hitting it on the ceiling).

“I was speaking objectively, Y/N,” Steve says, “Just painting an accurate picture for them.”

You frown, but Nat smirks.

“You don’t have to worry about Steve, Y/N, he’s already spoken for.”

Steve rolls his eyes as he drops into the seat in front of you both, but you can tell by the way his expression has closed up that Nat’s hit a nerve.

“Don’t tease him about Peggy, Nat,” James says, mildly, “It’s not kind.”

“Yeah,” Steve seems to recover, and his tone lightens up, “It’s not like all of us get to spend seven hours a week in the presence of such beauty.”

“Um,” Sam scoffs, “You see me every day.”

They all laugh, you included.

“Well, I’m glad your beauty quota is filled, because Wanda is very much off-limits.”

“She have a partner?” Sam asks, and you twist your lip.

“Not yet. But she will, if I have anything to do with it.”

Nat raises one eyebrow. “Sounds intriguing.”

“Ah, it’s just this guy we see at competitions. He heads up Vision Studios, on the other side of town. He’s literally perfect for her.” You can’t help but roll your eyes just thinking about the two of them. Wanda laughs more with Luis than anyone else, but somehow they never seem to make that final push to exchanging numbers and going on an actual date. “One day they’ll see sense.”

Steve leans across to pat James’ knee consolingly and takes on the tone of a stereotypical maiden aunt. “Shame about that, Buck. Still, I’m sure you’ll find someone.”

James leans back, his mouth twisting into a grin. “She’s not really my type,” Is all he says.

“Are competitions a regular thing, then?” Nat addresses you, and you nod.

“Fairly. Wanda puts on more sessions when they’re coming up. I think our next one is in ten weeks or so?” You shrug. “Quite a way off, anyway. How does it work in the Academy?”

“We have auditions,” Steve answers, “For professional companies. They come through twice a year.”

You can’t hide your surprise. “That sounds pretty serious. Are you all going professional then?”

The four of them exchange looks. You huff a little. “You’re speaking to uninitiated, here!”

“Yes,” James answers, shortly.

“If we can,” Sam interjects, wryly.

“There’s no if about it,” Nat says.

“Not for our child-prodigy here-” Steve teases, and gets a whack on the arm.

“If you old men quit grumbling every once in a while-”

“Old men! You’d better watch your back, Romanoff-”

“Literally, you’ll probably end up with Steve for your duet,” Sam points out.

From the corner, James snorts. “I wouldn’t risk it, Stevie, she could seriously hurt you.”

“If you’re finished,” You say, standing up, “It’s nearly our stop, you two.” You turn back to wave at Sam and Nat. “Guess I’ll see you around?”

Nat gives you a small smile and Sam waves back as Steve and James get to their feet.

“Keep them in check, Y/N!” Nat calls, and a laugh bubbles out of you before you can stop it. Keep them in check. As if you could ever.

~~~

“Alright!” You push your sweaty hair off your forehead as Wanda calls the class to order. “As you may have noticed, this week we’re in the unusual position of having too many leads! So, as a special treat, I’m going to have you rotate partners!” The answering groan of protest doesn’t have the slightest effect on her gleeful expression. “It is good for you! Keeps you on your toes. We’ll have a break, then follows can move one to the left.”

You send a look of heartfelt misery her way, and she laughs.

“Like I said, it’s good for you, Y/N!”

“Yeah, suck it up, Y/N,” Clint messes your hair as he passes, and you make a half-hearted sound of outrage. “Got to stop being the teacher’s pet at some point.”

“Not funny,” You say, but you follow him off the floor anyway. “And at least I’m not speaking as an individual who lost at crazy golf…”

“Now that,” Clint glares at you, “Was not funny.”

You breeze past him to fetch your water bottle. “I’ll have you know that I’m hilarious.”

“It was pretty funny.” Steve walks past to where he had stashed his bag. You’d all walked in together: it had been kind of impossible to put your stuff separately. To your own surprise, the idea of spending further time in their company wasn’t entirely horrific. It was like there was a whole new side to them when they were around their friends. There was certainly a whole new side to James. Although he seemed to have clammed up again when he entered the studio, you’d been sneaking glances at the pair of them when you’d had the opportunity, and they’d clearly been practicing. Perhaps they did care a little more than they’d initially let on.

“Hey!” Clint protests, pointing a finger at Steve. “You don’t even know my name and you’re ganging up on me.”

“Ah, sorry?”

Clint cracks a smile. “It’s Clint.” He adds in the signed spelling. “Just remember that I’m always the funny one, and Y/N is not.”

“All the evidence would appear to be to the contrary,” Comes a quiet voice, and you look to one side to see James watching you both. Clint glares theatrically at him.

“You are fighting a losing battle, my friend.”

“OK!” Wanda’s voice breaks up their little debate. “Back to it!”

You stride back out into the centre of the room and try to shake off the uncomfortable feeling in your midriff that sparked when James took your side.

Wanda shakes her head in amusement. “Did you all think I wouldn’t notice if you just went back to the same partners? Come on! Step outside your comfort zones!”

Everyone reluctantly separates and all the follows move clockwise around the two lines of leads. You end up with Dylan, which is a relief. What’s more concerning is that James is only two spaces along- which means you’ll probably end up dancing with him. Today. Again, you squash down the tickly feeling.

“You can block with this partner- I’ll come around and correct your technique- then we’ll run through from the start.” Wanda looks positively gleeful at the glares most of her students shoot her way. “Off you go!”

Blocking passes without incident. Wanda incessantly corrects your wrists and hands (“Extend, Y/N! All the way to the end of the line!”) before sending you on to dance with Mo. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see James stood to one side, waiting out his turn without a partner.

“To music, this time! Remember, I want to see clean shapes.”

The hum flares out from the speakers as the song begins.

“Waiting for the time to pass you by, hope the wind of change will change your mind,

I could give a thousand reasons why…”

You slide into the isolations, playing with the positioning so it exactly mirrors Mo’s.

“All you have to do is stay,

A minute,

Just take your time.

The clock is ticking,

So stay.”

You turn to face one another, a smile forming on your face at the feeling of the movements flowing so easily.

“All you have to do is wait,

A second,

Your hands,

On mine…”

You join hands, then follow Mo’s grip to his opposite shoulder.

“The clock is ticking,

So stay-”

You slide your fingertips down Mo’s arm and hold onto his wrist, and as the tick-tick-tick of the beat rings out, you drop into the backbend.

Except- Mo doesn’t have your arm. For the briefest of moments, your balance hovers, tilted way beyond your centre of gravity- and then Mo’s wrist slides out of your grasp and you drop backwards with a thud. In the handful of heartbeats before you hit the ground, you frantically try to realign your neck and shoulders, trying to prevent your head from hitting the floor first; but there’s a sharp twinge of pain from your hips as gravity forces them to fold over at an angle you’re not flexible enough to handle and you let out a yelp an instant before you slam down on your back.

“Y/N?!”

“Are you OK?!”

The music stops. You’re only immediately aware of two things: the fact that there seem to be literal waves from the impact rippling through your skull, and that all the breath has been jolted from your chest. You wheeze, flat out like a stranded turtle, as Mo leans over you on one side and Wanda on the other.

“I’m so sorry,” Mo gasps, “I just missed the timing-”

“You alright down there?” Clint crouches down by your head, and Pepper peers anxiously at you.

The air seems to be filtering back into your lungs, and you wince as you uncurl your legs. “Been better,” You manage to say, “But I don’t think it’s a hospital job.”

“I don’t know,” James’ voice filters into your ears, “She hit her head pretty hard.”

You’d like to complain, but your brain still feels like it’s rattling between your ears. A furrow appears between Wanda’s eyebrows.

“Can you sit up?” She asks. You shove yourself up on your elbows, grimacing at the ache already settling in your shoulders.

“Look, not dead.” Christ. Your head really hurts; though you don’t mention that to Wanda. She’s worried enough as it is. You carefully look around.

“Alright.” James kneels down beside you. “Recite the days of the week backwards?”

“What?” You look at him incredulously.

“We get taught that when we’re checking for concussion, Y/N,” Steve says, somewhere to your left. “Ballet dancers fall over a lot.”

You snort, but try to focus. “Uh, Sunday, Saturday, Friday, Wednesday… Tuesday, Monday.”

James nods. Clearly your encounter with the floor has knocked you silly, because his eyes seem astonishingly soft. “And now count backwards from twenty?”

“Are you serious?”

James just looks at you, and you crack.

“Fine. Twenty, nineteen, eighteen…”

You reach zero without any mistakes, and James finally seems satisfied.

“Are we content that I don’t have a brain injury?” You grouse, and Mo offers you a hand up (still looking guilty, even though Pepper has reassured him at least three times that it was just an honest mistake). Wanda mock-shudders.

“Don’t even joke about it, Y/N. And you’re sitting out the rest of the session. I’m not having you damaging yourself any further.”

Again, you want to protest- but the pain in your head rivals a period cramp, and you’re not that much of a martyr. You nod (trying not to make the movement too severe) and shuffle over to the wall.

“I’ll sit out with her,” James offers, and you look up in surprise- but Wanda’s already nodding.

“Just in case I pass out?” You joke as he walks towards you. You carefully slide down to sit with the mirror against your back.

“Like Wanda says, don’t joke about it.” He sits a foot or so away as Wanda gets the class underway again. “Sure you’re OK?”

Your initial instinct is to reply with something snarky, but there’s genuine concern behind the question. Instead, you smile (well, it’s more of a grimace) and lift a hand to the back of your head.

“I’ve got the mother of all headaches and I don’t think my hips will be on speaking terms with me for a few days, but yeah. Like I said, not dead.”

He smiles with one side of his mouth. “Always a positive.”

You laugh softly as Wanda starts the music again.

“You know, you should do some stretches.” James speaks up over the music. “In general. It will help if you ever get concertinaed up again.”

You shrug. “I probably should. I’m just never focused enough to do them.” Or, rather, you can’t be bothered. “Your classmates would probably tear me limb from limb for speaking such heresy.”

James snorts and shakes his head slightly. Then he resumes his serious expression. “I can show you a couple, if you want?”

You’re so surprised, you almost forget to breathe. To cover your shock, you fall back on humour: you eye him suspiciously and ask, “How much will they hurt?”

“They’re supposed to hurt, Y/N,” He says, with more than a touch of sarcasm, “That’s how you know they’re working.”

You tilt your head back to rest gently against the mirror and ignore the fizzing in your stomach. “Fine. But, fair warning, I’ll probably whine a lot.”

James raises his eyes to the ceiling. “What have I let myself in for?”

“What’s that phrase? No take-backs.”

He pulls a face at you, and you have to fight the urge to stick out your tongue. James then wisely decides to change the subject.

“Is the studio space free before the class?”

“Yeah. Wanda sometimes runs her extra practices from four.”

James nods, looking pensive. Before you can ask why, though, Wanda’s announcing the end of the class and Pepper, Clint and Steve are heading your way.

“How’s the invalid?” Clint asks, and you make an ineffectual swat at his ankle. Pepper laughs.

“I think that means she’s fine.”

Besides the throbbing in your skull, you are fine; but that doesn’t stop Steve and James insisting you catch the bus home with them, and, when you hop off at your stop, Steve announces that they’re walking you to your door.

“Steve,” You say, trying to sound firm, but he shakes his head in a self-righteous manner whilst James looks on, amused.

“No, I won’t hear it! Can you imagine the guilt we’d feel if you collapsed out of sight round the corner?”

“It’s not like it’s far,” James says, in a mollifying voice, and you roll your eyes dramatically before gesturing for them to fall in beside you.

“If this carries on next week, I will not be impressed,” You warn. Steve nods seriously.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Honestly.” The exasperation in your tone sets James off into quiet giggles. “Look, here we are, and I’m still alive and kicking.” You stop outside the narrow door that leads up to your one-bed flat.

“Wait,” James says, before you can climb the steps, “You live alone?”

“Yes,” You say, trying to keep the suspicion out of your voice. OK, they seem nice- but you still barely know them. James holds up his hands in a conciliatory gesture.

“Just- it’s probably paranoia, but it would be nice to know that you’re up in the morning.”

“What, in case you need to break down the door and take me to A&E?” That seems like a very remote possibility, but Steve’s nodding.

“That’s a good point, Buck- have you got your phone on you?”

James fishes in his pocket and pulls it out, tapping in the passcode before holding it out to you.

“Don’t look at us like that,” Steve says, in that gentle teasing tone of voice, “We’re just concerned for your safety.”

“You’re worse than my mother, that’s what you are,” You mutter, but you acquiesce and take the phone. After tapping in your number, you hand it back. “There. Now that you have a way to be quite sure I’m not dead, I’ll say goodnight.”

Steve smiles at you, and even James’ face seems to have relaxed. “Goodnight, Y/N.” The pair of them don’t move. You raise an eyebrow. Steve just smiles wider. “Look, we’re going to see you safely inside.”

“You,” You say, vehemently, “Are both ridiculous.” You jam your key in the lock, swing the door theatrically wide and hop over the threshold. “Satisfied?”

“Goodnight, Y/N!”

Rolling your eyes for their benefit, you softly shut the door and turn the lock. Then you start up the stairs, with your mind firmly fixed on a paracetamol, a glass of water and the soft sheets of your bed.

AN: You know when I said that last part was long... It’s actually rare for me to write less than 3000 words per chapter, so if that’s not your jam then I quite understand. I’ve tagged all the people who have asked, and a couple who’ve liked both the parts that have come out previously- as per, if the story turns out not to be to your taste then drop me a line and I’ll remove you from the list. I always hesitate to tie myself to update schedules but I’ve just finished writing the tenth chapter of this (!) so I’ll be posting new chapters every couple of days. Once again, thanks so much for the feedback so far, I love you all <3

Tag list: @blonde0n; @vintagesaph; @plumsforbuck2016; @debzybrazy; @themarvelousmaximoffs; @learisa

Part 3

[katychan666]

Can I please request a fanfic in which Magnus gives Alec a little make over? Or experiments with makeup on Alec? Or you can add your own twist to it; I would just really love to read something involving Magnus applying makeup on Alec for some reason, it would be very cute! Thank you!

Oh, let me tell you anon, this was very fun to write. I always kind of liked to play with the idea of Magnus putting makeup on Alec. But there was a reason why I avoided writing it prior to this; I don’t know shit about makeup since I never wear it xD

So here’s my disclaimer: I don’t know shit about makeup, so if there are mistakes or anything like that, forgive me.

Other than that, enjoy… I hope you’re gonna like it and thanks for requesting this ^^

“Alec,darling, can I try my makeup on you?” was the question that made Alec’s eyeswiden. He was sitting in Magnus’ living room, minding his own business withreading one of his books and the sudden question made him put his book down,his eyes widening in surprise for just a little bit when he saw that Magnus wasnow sitting next to him, his eyes literally shining with excitement when thequestion was asked and Alec didn’t get it. Where was Magnus even coming from?He knew that he never wore makeup; he thought that it looked good on certainpeople (Magnus, for example), but it just wasn’t for him. Whenever Izzy wantedto give him one of her famous makeovers, he just quietly made himselfdisappear.

“Excuse me,what?” asked Alec, not really sure if he heard it right, so he wanted to makesure. It didn’t make any sense. At all.

“I asked ifI can put some makeup on you,” repeated Magnus and smiled, scooting a bitcloser to Alec. To be honest, it was one of Magnus’ wishes for a while now. Itwasn’t like he thought that Alec needed makeup, because in his opinion hisboyfriend was perfect the way he was. More than perfect, in fact. The warlockjust wanted to see how makeup would look on him; usually everything lookedgreat on Alec, including his clothes (even though Alec disagreed with him onthat one). Plus, he was bored and he wanted to keep himself entertained withsomething.

“Ah,” saidAlec and slowly closed the book and placed it onto the coffee table and he madea short pause, before he continued, folding his arms on top of his chest. TheShadowhunter then took in a deep breath and shook his head. So he did hear itcorrectly. Great. “Why?” he then asked with a small voice, thinking that Magnusmaybe would prefer him with makeup. “You know that I don’t like to wear itand-”

“I’mbored,” announced Magnus and ruffled Alec’s hair when he saw that he wasbecoming concerned, probably thinking that he didn’t like how he looked. With akiss, Magnus eased Alec’s mind and all of his worries fled away. The youngerone then arched an eyebrow, because he didn’t know how Magnus’ boredom andgiving him a makeover was connected, so he just sat there in silence, waitingfor an explanation. “Come on, don’t look at me like that,” said Magnus thenplayfully and sighed. “Look, you’re perfect the way you are right now, but,”said Magnus and Alec frowned again. So there was a but? “I don’t know, I justwant to see how you’d look with it. If you don’t wanna, then it’s completelyfine.”

So, if Alecunderstood him correctly, he wanted to give him a makeover because he wasbored. Alec stared into Magnus’ eyes for a moment or two and in the end he gaveup and shrugged. “Sure, fine,” muttered the young man and Magnus’ eyes wereliterally shining with excitement, making Alec almost regret his decision.“Just, don’t tell anyone, okay?” said Alec. “Especially not to Jace, because ifhe’d find out that-”

“Worry not,these lips are sealed,” muttered Magnus and pressed a kiss on top of Alec’s ownlips, excitedly rubbing his palms together once they parted and the corners ofAlec’s lips curled up, forming a tiny smile. “Now then, let’s get started,”said the warlock. With a snap of his fingers, all of his makeup from hisbedroom was suddenly summoned onto the coffee table and Alec blinked a fewtimes when he saw just how much of it Magnus owned.  

“Why do youneed so much of the makeup, Magnus?” asked Alec and leaned a bit closer to thecoffee table as Magnus was in the middle of finding the foundation. Magnus justshrugged and clicked with his tongue, annoyed that he couldn’t find the correctone. He had many of them, but none of them would really match Alec’s skin toneperfectly, so he just decided to go with the lightest shade that he owned andhoped for the best.

“Why do Ineed so much of it?” asked Magnus and hummed. “Well, all of this is needed if Iwant to keep looking so good, handsome,” teased Alec and the younger one puffedhis cheeks. “What?” asked Magnus then when he saw the look on Alec’s face.

“You’reperfect without the makeup, Magnus,” whispered Alec. “You don’t need so much ofthis stuff,” he then added, really meaning it. Even though he loved Magnus’makeup, he liked it just as much, if not even more, the days when Magnus felttoo lazy to put it on. On days like that, Alec just kept on staring at Magnus’handsome face and was completely mesmerised by the older one. Magnus’ soft laughter was what woke him up from his daydreaming and Magnus bit into his lowerlip when he heard Alec.

“Youflatter me way too much, Alexander,” said Magnus and even though he waspouting, he liked the compliment. “Look at me, darling,” he then ordered andchuckled. He then gently held Alec’s chin and lifted his head up just a littlebit, scooting closer and he playfully waggled his eyebrows when he saw theconcerned look in Alec’s eyes.

“What shouldI do?” asked the Shadowhunter and placed his hands together in his lap,shifting just a little bit, swallowing thickly as his eyes flickered down whenMagnus opened up the foundation.

“Just sitstill and,” said Magnus, pumping some of the product on the back of his handand then dipped the makeup sponge into it. “Relax and enjoy yourself,” he thenadded and Alec slowly nodded, flinching when the sponge touched his face.

Alec didn’tparticularly like the feeling of the foundation being spread across his face,but he kept his mouth shut, scrunching his nose when Magnus started blendingthe product into his skin. The warlock laughed softly when he saw his boyfriend’sadorable reaction, his fingers reaching under Alec’s chin again, lifting hisface up, just a little bit and he couldn’t help but to laugh as Alec startedslowly backing away, obviously not liking the process at all.

“Darling,”said Magnus and Alec opened only one of his eyes, not really knowing if Magnuswas done or not yet. When he saw that that horrible sponge was away, hestraightened himself up a little bit and he blinked a few times. “You’re aShadowhunter, you battle demons almost every day of your life and a little bitof makeup scares you?”

“No, I justdon’t like the feeling of it,” said Alec and puffed his cheeks, ignoring theurge to touch his face. “Am I pretty yet?” he then teased and Magnus gently bitinto his lower face.

“You’realways pretty, Alexander,” said the warlock and decided that Alec didn’t needany concealer. The foundation didn’t really match Alec’s complexion, but it wasn’tso bad either. And yes, it made Alec look even more stunning than usual, ifthat was even possible. The next product that he picked up was the powder andhe took a big, fluffy brush into his hand, signing Alec to come closer againand the younger one did, this time hesitating just a little bit.

“What’sthis?” asked Alec and pointed to the pan.

“This, myAlexander, is what we call a powder,” explained Magnus playfully and Alecfrowned, puzzled. It was the same colour as the thing that Magnus put on hisface before. To him, it didn’t make sense, because he didn’t know what kind ofa difference it could make.

“But isn’t itthe same colour as that thing earlier?” blurted out Alec. “You’re putting thesame colour on top of that?” he then asked and crossed his arms on top of hischest. “Stupid idea if you ask me,” he then went on by complaining and Magnusjust laughed; Alec was adorable.

“Shush, Iknow what I’m doing,” said Magnus and Alec huffed, but stayed quiet after that.

Magnusdipped the brush into the powder and started gently gliding it across Alec’sface. Once he slid it past the younger’s face, some of the excess powder fellfrom the brush, making Alec’s nose tingle and the Shadowhunter sneezed, whichcompletely took Magnus off guard, his body shaking with laughter as hecontinued applying the makeup. Alec’s face flushed when he heard Magnus’laughter and he opened up his eyes once Magnus announced that he was done withthat. Alec’s nose still tingled and he gently scratched it. Unable to helphimself, Magnus leaned forward to kiss his boyfriend and he sighed; he was weakto Alec’s adorable reactions. After that, Magnus applied a little bit of blushand rubbed his palms together.

“Okay, sowhat’s next?” asked Alec, already dreading of the answer when he saw Magnuspulling out an eyeshadow palette.

“We’ll moveto the eyes now,” said Magnus happily, because he was looking forward to thatpart the most.

“Oh goodgod,” said Alec under his breath.

“Don’tworry, darling, I’ll be gentle,” said Magnus and winked, making Alec’s blushdeepen and he cleared his throat. “Now then, which colours do you want on thesepretty eyes?” he then went on by asking Magnus and pointed to Alec’s eyes,opening the eyeshadow palette.

“I, um,”stammered Alec and frowned. To him it didn’t matter at all, but he knew that ifhe’d say that out loud, he would come off as an idiot. It mattered to Magnusenough and Alec respected that. His eyes scanned all of the colours and one ofthem in particularly stood out to him. It was a beautiful, gold shimmeryeyeshadow and the reason why his eyes stopped on it, was because the colour ofit reminded him of Magnus’ beautiful eyes. “That gold one,” he then said aftera few moments of thinking, pointing to it.

“Oh,interesting choice,” said Magnus, because he was kind of expecting Alec to pickout a much darker shade. “Why this one?” he asked curiously as he took a newbrush into his hand and Alec pressed his lips together.

“It remindsme of your eyes,” blurted out Alec and now it was Magnus’ turn to flush, a shysmile spreading across his face. When the warlock looked up at Alec’s eyes, hisglamour was off this time and Alec could stare at them the whole day.

“Look downfor me, Alexander,” said Magnus, his lips really close to Alec’s and theShadowhunter just looked down, his face hot when he heard Magnus’ deep chuckle.“Perfect,” he said and dipped the brush into the golden eyeshadow. “Now be goodfor me and try not to move too much, okay? I don’t want to hurt you,” he thenmuttered and Alec slowly nodded.

“Okay.”

Magnusproceeded by applying the golden shimmery colour to the middle of Alec’s eyelid.The younger one tried his best not to move, but the light pressure against hiseyelid felt anything but comfortable. As Magnus was done with that, he applieda darker, brown colour into the outer corner of Alec’s eyelid, the bristles ofthe brush tickling against Alec’s skin, making the younger one giggle andMagnus smiled as well. “Look up for me, darling,” said Magnus and Alec lookedup, his eyes awfully red and watery. “Oh, you poor thing, you’re tearing up,”said Magnus softly and chuckled. “You’re gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,great,” replied Alec and Magnus smiled.

Afterapplying a brighter colour to the corner of Alec’s eyelid and blending all ofthe colours together, forming a beautiful gradient and finishing up the other eye,Magnus was proud with himself. He might’ve been done with the eyeshadow, butthe real struggle came when he started applying the liquid eyeliner onto Alec’seyes. Alec had to take quite a few breaks in between and after Magnus appliedthe mascara, the Shadowhunter was more than happy that the eyes were finished.His eyes were still red and they felt unbelievably heavy under all of thatmakeup, but Magnus seemed to be impressed with what he saw, so he didn’tcomplain too much.

“Do I lookokay?” muttered Alec and Magnus slowly nodded.

Magnus hadto stop and stare at his own beautiful creation for a little while. Alec lookedstunning with the makeup on and even though he usually took his breath away,Magnus just couldn’t look away, he was completely in awe with what he saw. Themascara did wonders for Alec’s already long eyelashes and Magnus bit into hislower lip. The makeup itself was very subtle, but man, it looked fuckingamazing.

“Magnus?”

“Sorry?”asked Magnus and Alec felt his face heating up as Magnus was staring at hisface so bluntly. Magnus’ smile then grew and he just chuckled, placing down themascara that he was holding and he let out a hitched breath as he gentlytouched Alec’s cheek. “You look hot,” whispered Magnus against Alec’s lips,which sent shivers up his spine, his throat going dry in a second.

“Y-yeah?”

“Yeah,”said Magnus and beamed up at him. “You should totally try to wear makeup moreoften, because it’s doing wonders for you, darling,” he then added and gentlykissed Alec. “Do you want some lipstick as well? If not, then this would be it.”

“No, I’m good,”said Alec with a chuckle and Magnus nodded, because he agreed; adding somethingmore to that would probably ruin the perfection, so he snapped his fingers andall of the makeup disappeared from the coffee table.

Wanting tosee himself, Alec walked to the nearest mirror in Magnus’ apartment and hiseyes widened when he saw his reflection in the mirror. He looked like anenhanced version of himself and he didn’t know how he felt about that. Sure, helooked good, but to himself, he looked ridiculous. The Shadowhunter couldn’t believethat some people, including Magnus and his sister, go through all of that everysingle day. His opinion still didn’t change; he didn’t like makeup on himself.But, he didn’t mind it on other people.

“So, whatdo you think?” asked Magnus as he crept behind Alec and wrapped his arms aroundhim, pulling him close and Alec shrugged, turning around in Magnus’ arms. “Idid a good job, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,”said Alec and grinned when he was rewarded by Magnus’ bright smile. “But I don’tthink you’ll see me wearing this on daily basis anytime soon,” quickly addedAlec.

“I know,” saidMagnus playfully. “It was just for fun. Like I said, I was bored.”

“But you’renot anymore?”

“Hmm? Farfrom it,” muttered Magnus and pushed Alec back against the wall, giving him ahungry kiss. “And I thought of another way to make my boredom go away,” he thenwent on by saying and a playful smile spread across Alec’s lips as he pulledMagnus closer to himself.

“How so?”asked Alec, his heart beating faster and he gave Magnus another kiss, which wasjust as equally hungry and needy, leaving the warlock panting already. Alec wasamused; his makeover had such a big impact on the High Warlock of Brooklyn.Magnus was already all hot and bothered, Alec’s loud laughter filling Magnus’apartment as he was being pushed into his bedroom.

Who knew,in the end it was Alec that got to enjoy the power of makeup the most that day,coming to conclusion that it wasn’t the last time he was going to wear it afterall.

[bibliosexxual]

a fluffy thing I was thinking about tonight.

...that morphed into a fic.

(now also on ao3)

They meet in Biology 101. Stiles is a freshman, and he's in this class mostly because Scott is pre-vet and Stiles signed up for all the same classes because he has no earthly idea what he wants to do, career-wise. Derek is a junior Spanish lit major taking this because he needs the gen. ed., and he's terrible. He's the only person in the class who's not a freshman. He's always a few minutes late—that's how he ended up sitting at the table by the door with Stiles and Scott the first day—and he's so gloomy, and he always lugs around this backpack full of Pablo Neruda books because he has a Spanish poetry class right before this one, and he takes the neatest, most meticulous class notes Stiles has ever seen. (Stiles, meanwhile, doesn't take any notes. He takes photos of every slide with his phone as the professor talks and then spends the rest of the time goofing off quietly, doodling dumb stuff on Scott's arm and working on five different assignments at once on his laptop.)

The class meets one hour three times a week for lecture sessions and once a week, practically all afternoon, for lab. It's basic stuff, learning things like lab safety and how to use pipettes, and then they're divided up for their semester-long partner projects, growing and monitoring various strains of bacteria in petri dishes. Stiles tries to get Scott as a partner, of course, but their professor separates them, probably because she's seen how they act in class and suspects (correctly) that they'll be a hazard to themselves and others if left together in a lab.

She matches Stiles with Derek instead. It's not so bad. One day they have to put on gloves and rubber boots and wade into the creek behind the science center to gather samples, and Stiles nearly falls on his ass before Derek catches him with a surprisingly strong hand around his waist. Stiles hadn't really noticed before just how built Derek was under all the cardigans. He's like Superman, hiding out in plain sight behind old-man sweaters and nerd glasses.

Sometimes they study together before a big test, all three of them, until Scott inevitably bows out early. Scott's a natural at science; he barely needs to study to make A's. Also, he’s sussed out just how much Stiles likes being left alone with Derek. He keeps sending Stiles pep talks about it over text.

Derek is brilliant, sure, but not in any way that helps him with this class, where he doesn't have to spout off any Spanish or write any literary analyses. He's frankly terrible at Biology. Stiles can see why he put off taking the class for so much of his college career. Stiles doesn't mind helping him, though. Working through it all with Derek helps him remember it all better for the test.

Not to mention, he just plain likes Derek. He looks so somber all the time that when he says a joke or snarks about something, Stiles is always pleasantly surprised. He can tell Derek is lonely; he comes from a big family, he tells Stiles, and he's used to having lots of people around him, in his life, nosing in his business and dragging him to social events. But here he doesn't know anyone except Stiles and Scott, really, since he just transferred here from another college. (He hasn't said why, except that a girl was involved. It didn't end well, apparently. Stiles doesn't press.)

Stiles doesn't hang out with Derek out of pity, though, and he tries to make that clear. He likes Derek's company and finding out about little pieces of Derek's life, music he likes and what other classes he's taking and all the little minutiae of his day. He likes hearing Derek's opinions and making fun of him a little and getting made fun of right back.

One Friday night Stiles texts him something silly from the book he's reading. It's like 3 a.m., and he's surprised when Derek texts back only a minute later.

Stiles calls him. "What are you still doing up, man?"

Turns out Derek can't sleep; he got sexiled from his room. Erica, he says euphemistically, "is having a really nice night." (Stiles snorts.) The library is closed. All the academic buildings are locked. The common area on his hall is still trashed from a party last weekend that no one has cleaned up yet. Derek has taken refuge out by the little student garden at the bottom of the hill near his building; there's a pond there with some benches. Stiles has nothing better to do, and it's not like he's going to sleep any time soon—he'd loaded up on caffeine while writing a paper, then finished it a ton sooner than he'd expected in a whirlwind mix of brilliance and bullshitting. Now he's wired.

So he pulls on a hoodie and shoves his feet in the nearest pair of sneakers and jogs down the stairs and outside, where it's cool but not freezing out, a nice night really. He finds Derek and they just sit there together on the edge of the pond and talk. It's almost five a.m. before the conversation fades out to a comfortable silence and Stiles starts to feel his caffeine buzz wearing off. Derek stifles a huge yawn in his sleeve; it's pretty adorable.

"Hey," Stiles says on impulse, "if you want, you can totally come back to my room."

Derek's eyes widen, and Stiles realizes what it sounds like he's said.

"Whoa, not what I meant. Not that I wouldn't— I mean, no lie, you're really attractive," Derek looks down at his feet at that, like no one's ever told him he's hot before, "but I just meant to sleep. Scott's staying over at his girlfriend Kira's apartment, so you could crash on his bed. He wouldn't mind as long as I changed the sheets before he got back."

So Derek agrees, and together they gather up the books he'd spread out to study before Stiles showed up. Stiles carries an armload for him since Derek looks dead on his feet. It's weird how intimate it feels, just walking together, not saying anything, Stiles carrying Derek's stuff for him.

Stiles and Scott's dorm is tiny and windowless, practically a closet, with barely any room to walk around the furniture, the one rickety desk and the little bookcase and the bunk bed in the corner. Stiles can tell Derek's surprised. Being an upperclassman and all, he probably has a room about three times this size. Still, he doesn't say anything except to compliment Stiles' The Force Awakens poster on the closet door as he tiredly kicks off his shoes.

Stiles goes down the hall to the bathroom to brush his teeth and take out his contacts. When he gets back he remembers to ask, "Hey, dude, do you need to borrow anything?"

When there's no response, he belatedly glances over at Scott's bottom bunk. Derek is lying on his stomach on top of the comforter, one foot sticking out from the bed, so deeply asleep he's practically unconscious. Stiles stares down at him for longer than is probably appropriate, feeling something warm and affectionate swelling just under his breastbone. Then he pulls down the extra blanket from the closet, covers Derek as best he can, and climbs up to his own bunk in the darkness. He falls asleep listening to the soft sound of Derek breathing.

He doesn't wake up until almost noon. Back home, he never needed an alarm clock, always just woke up gradually as the sun lit up his room. Here, though, without a window in the room, it always feels like the middle of the night, no source of light but the weak 60-watt bulb of Scott's desk lamp.

He's halfway through checking all the notifications on his phone when he remembers he didn't come home alone last night. He raises his head to look over the railing of his bed. Derek is awake and apparently has been for some time now, camped out at Stiles' desk with a brick-sized tome of what looks like poetry.

"When did you get up?" Stiles groans blearily.

"Eight a.m.," Derek answers, and god, Stiles knew Derek was a morning person but he didn't realize it was that bad. "I'll probably take a nap later," he adds, seeing Stiles' expression.

Stiles laughs. "Me too, but not because I need the sleep. Just because it's Saturday and I like naps. Naps are the best."

He has just enough sense not to suggest they take a nap together, but he does add that to his mental list of things to daydream about extensively later, right alongside inventing a cure for cancer and finding out what Derek's tattoo looks like. Derek let it slip once that he had one, right between his shoulderblades. It's been one of the great obsessions of Stiles' life ever since.

They eventually wander over to the dining hall together. They've finished their food (Derek eats almost as much as Stiles, which is truly impressive) and they're in the middle of a pretty in-depth conversation about Don Quixote, based on the fact that Derek is thinking of doing his senior thesis on it and Stiles read it once in high school, when Erica wanders over.

"Looks like I wasn't the only one getting lucky last night." She winks.

Stiles splutters and Derek sinks down in his seat like he wants to disappear.

Erica bursts out laughing. "Oh my god, your faces. I was just kidding. I know Derek's too lame to have any fun on a Friday night. Anyway," she says, "if it's okay with you, I was wondering if I could have the room today, too? I'm not quite done having my wicked way with Boyd. We've got some pretty extensive plans involving fruit and—"

"Please god, stop talking," Derek says. "You can have the room."

So that's how Stiles ends up inviting Derek back to his dorm again for the afternoon. They’ve hung out a lot over the last few months, but never for this long before. He kind of expects Derek to say no now that the library's open, but instead he says sure.

So they go back to Stiles' dorm after Derek ducks by his room first for a change of clothes and some books he needs. As Stiles is fumbling to unlock his door, Greenberg from across the hall wolf-whistles at them obnoxiously on his way past to the bathroom. Stiles flips him off. Derek looks awkward.

"Do you usually, um… Did he think..." Derek starts when they're in the room. He looks away. "Never mind."

"Nah, it's fine. Greenberg is always hooking up with people, so I guess he assumes everyone else must be, too, but I'm not. I mean, I'm not really a casual kind of guy."

Actually, he might be down for casual stuff, theoretically—in fact, he kind of expected he would be, and he'd even started down that path by making out with a random girl during orientation and then a different random girl later that same night at the freshman bonfire—except that then he walked into Biology on the first day of classes and there was Derek, and suddenly no one else looked half as interesting.

"Anyway," he adds, obviously not wanting to get into all of that, "I've never had a hook-up, if that's what you're asking."

Derek volunteers, "Me neither. I'm way too possessive."

Stiles imagines, fleetingly, what it would be like to have Derek be possessive over him. It would be nice, he thinks. No one's ever really gotten possessive over him before; no one's ever really wanted to keep him. Fool around with him, sure, but not keep him. He doesn't say anything.

Derek sits at Stiles' desk again after Stiles assures him he doesn't mind, and Stiles spreads out his biology notes on Scott's bed because he doesn't feel like making his own bed. Derek has to sit sideways in the chair because Scott's using the space under the desk for storing everything that couldn't fit under the bed or in the closet, and the desk is so close to the bed that Stiles' knees keep knocking Derek's.

The fifth time their knees bump and Derek apologizes again, Stiles flippantly says, "If you'd rather, I could just sit in your lap. Problem solved."

He's used to saying that kind of thing around Scott because they have this habit of aimlessly flirting with each other as a joke. Stiles doesn't think anything of it now, doesn't even look up; he's in the middle of highlighting a passage about cell division. He's halfway through the paragraph before he realizes Derek has gone weirdly quiet. He looks up. Derek is staring at him like Stiles just said he had herpes or something. He's got a smudge of ink on his chin and he's taken off his glasses; he doesn't need them to read, and Stiles can't for the life of him remember where he learned this about Derek.

Stiles actually has to think for a few seconds to remember what he even said and connect that to the way Derek's shoulders have gone so tense under his cardigan. "Oh," he says when he realizes. "I was just kidding, you know."

"So you don't like me like that," Derek says, not a question.

Stiles slowly puts down his highlighter. "I'm not saying that. I'm just saying I'm not going to ambush-straddle you in your chair."

"But do you..." Derek shakes his head. "Never mind."

"Wait." Stiles blinks, sits up a little straighter. "Do you like me like that?"

Instead of answering, Derek bites his lip and looks cornered, which is answer enough.

Stiles feels suddenly giddy. "Hey, can I kiss you?"

Derek's hands spasm where he's clutching his knees. "You want to kiss me?"

"No, I just asked you that hypothetically." Stiles rolls his eyes. "Duh, I wanna kiss you."

Derek looks endearingly flustered. He tries to push his glasses up his nose like he always does when he's nervous before he seems to remember he's taken them off. "Um. If you want. Okay."

Stiles scoots forward eagerly on the bed and hits his forehead on the edge of the top bunk. "Ow. Sorry, that was supposed to be a lot more suave."

"Nothing about you is suave," Derek says, and it should be insulting but it's really, really not.

Stiles ducks forward, avoiding hitting his head this time, and Derek leans down a little, and Stiles gets the impression Derek doesn't do this kind of thing very often because he just pauses there, uncertain, waiting, not touching Stiles at all. Stiles grins and guides him down by the ears into a soft kiss, like a hello.

Derek is actually really, really good at kissing. Stiles cups Derek's face in his hands, just to feel the way his jaw moves as he deepens the kiss, and moans.

"Wait, um," Derek pants, and Stiles reluctantly pulls back. "Is this just because I'm convenient?"

"No. If I wanted convenient I could've been hooking up with fucking Greenberg from across the hall all semester." Stiles shudders a little at the thought. "Is this just because you're lonely and I was nice to you?"

"No."

"Oh, good. Then... carry on?"

"Yeah," Derek nods, and sets about biting a mark into Stiles' neck.

*

Scott comes back from Kira's right about the time Stiles is saying rather loudly, "Shit, where are my pants," from the top bunk. Beside him, Derek's eyes widen, and he hastily ducks down behind Stiles' naked torso.

Scott turns around and walks right back out again.

There's a moment of silence.

"Oops," Stiles laughs. Then he sees how hard Derek is blushing and he laughs even harder, until Derek reluctantly starts to smile, too.

When he finally gets control of himself, he wiggles around to straddle Derek and says, with as much seriousness as he can muster, "I really like you, you know. Like, really really."

"I know," Derek says, settling his hands warm and possessive on Stiles' bare hips. "Me too."

"We should date."

"Yeah," Derek agrees. "Okay."

[dividedwerisetogetherwefall]

Chapter 10: Waiting Room

To Thae’s surprise, the training room which hid behind the firm metal door was no more, and instead was replaced by a small waiting room. Pandu and Thae hurried to get inside, and he practically threw Thae into the room before getting in the room himself. Thae crashed into a row of uncomfortable, small plastic chairs with no cushioning, sending them flying in multiple directions as Pandu sprinted into the room and nearly ran Thae over. The second he made it into the room, the metal door behind them slammed shut, and the sounds of multiple locks engaging echoed in the small room. The rest of the members were seated in the uncomfortable plastic chairs on the other side of the room, and stared at Thae and Pandu with concern. Thae stared back at them, and groaned as he got back onto his feet. Pandu panted heavily and wiped the sweat off his forehead. They both found a seat, and sat down. Pandu looked around the room excitedly, never keeping his focus on one thing for too long, while Thae examined the room closely. It was just like a doctor’s office waiting room. The walls were lined with tiny uncomfortable plastic chairs without cushioning, an empty fish tank occupied the top right corner of the room, and the floor was made of cold, hard porcelain tiling. The walls were painted a relaxing shade of turquoise, and light purple fluorescent lights hung from the ceiling, which radiated soft, colored light. After analyzing the room, Thae began eyeing the other members of Team NP one by one, reading their facial expressions, body posture, and involuntary mannerisms like a library book. Ponyhidden was lying down across three chairs, with his hood on, snoring softly. Noodles and Carson sat upright, staring at a spot in the wall with so much concentration they could burns holes through the wall by sheer willpower alone. Onett was staring at the ground, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, holding prayer hands by his mouth, with a blank expression on his face. Freddy was playing with his collar with his back against the chair, and his feet- Thae’s train of thought halted to a screeching stop when the metal door in front of him suddenly opened and Chsn came out, wearing her usual police officer uniform, sunglasses, and cap. She stared at everyone in the room, with flinty eyes hidden behind her dark shades. She cracked a small smile and began to speak, with her somewhat baritone voice. “Hello members of Team NP. As you probably already know, my name is Chsn, and I’m the head of the defense department around here. It's a pleasure to meet you all again.” She paused and gave Pandu a cold stare for a few seconds, which Pandu responded to with a stare of his own. Chsn cleared her throat, fixed her cap and sunglasses, then continued her speech. “I’m sure you’re all expecting today is the beginning of your group training, correct me if I'm wrong.” Chsn paused for a second to give everyone the death stare, as if she was challenging them to try and oppose her. “Today will not be your first group training day, but rather a weapon distribution day. So with that said, please be good little boys and girls while you wait for your turn, okay? Thank you.” She pulled out a notepad and pen, which were attached to her belt and began vigorously flipping through the pages, until she reached her desired destination. She stopped flipping, looked up, then looked back down on her paper. She pointed at Pandu and said, “You’re up first kid, follow me.” Pandu slowly got up from his seat and strolled across the floor to the door, as he mumbled, “Okay.” Chsn held the metal door located on the other side of the room open for Pandu, waited for him to enter, then delicately closed the door and locked it shut. The instant the door closed, chatter filled the room, until it enveloped the room like a thick smoke. “Man I wonder what weapon I’m gonna get!” Yolk told Thae excitedly. “Maybe a mace, or a claymore or a…. a gun sword!” Stars filled yolk’s eyes as he thought of wielding a gun sword and doing stupidly awesome lunges and feints like an anime character. Ultra, who was sitting two seats away from him, rolled his eyes and mumbled, “Wow what a weeb.” Yolk gave Ultra the evil eye then disengaged. Thae tuned into another conversation which was taking place several seats away from him. “I simply cannot contain my excitement for an event such as this.” Said Carson with monotone excitement. He was talking to nobody except himself. “Hooray. Hooray. Yay.” His face was completely neutral as he did laps around the waiting room with his arms held high, like he just finished a marathon. Thae smiled in his seat as he thought of which weapon he would receive. He began to daydream as he subconsciously tuned into the side conversations the others were having. “I wonder which weapon I'll get. Maybe I'll get something that's a crossover of medieval and modern.” Thae thought. “That would be cool.” “Man I wonder what weapon I’ll get. Not a lot of weapons are built to be used to creatures without opposable thumbs, ya know what I'm sayin?” Ponyhidden told Noodles. Noodles wore his usual stoic face, and nodded solemnly as if Pony just explained to him the meaning of life, the universe and everything. “Hmmmm, Pony does bring up a good point. I don't have opposable thumbs. That could pose a threat to my pool of possible weapon choices.” “A’ight sorry Yolk, that was uncalled for.” Ultra said sheepishly. “Nah it's cool man.” Yolk said. “Okay cool.” “Man I wonder what Pandu’s weapon is. Probably something really cool. Maybe it's a gun sword or something.” “Ya know, gun swords are really awesome.” Ultra said with his thick New York accent. “Weeb.” Yolk said jokingly. “Shut it, my friend.” Ultra said as he hit Yolk playfully. Thae resumed his thinking session. “Man I really regret not keeping up to date on the news and stuff. I know absolutely nothing about all the new military technology that's being developed.” “I want explosives and go boom!” Lex screamed excitedly at Freddy. “I go boom! Big boom!” He extended his arms out and high to represent an explosion. He proceeded to repeated yell out,”boom” as he crescendoed louder and louder until he couldn't get any louder Freddy gave Lex a judging look as he gave him a slow nod. After Lex finished screaming, he asked Freddy, “So what weapon do you want?” “I dunno man. I haven't the slightest clue of what I want to get, you feel meh?” Freddy replied. “I see.” Lex replied. The chatter in the room quickly died down as people ran out of things to talk to, and they began to grow sick of each other. Slowly one by one, they were chosen by Chsn, and taken to whatever paradise lies behind the large metal door. “Carson, follow me.” “Yes. Okay.” Carson replies. Thae lied down on the ground, bored out of his mind, and stared at the ceiling lights, which flickered spontaneously. He listened to the others get called as he continued to lay on the ground, waiting to get picked. The room is dead silent. “Lex, you’re up next.” “Okay.” Lex replies. Thae gets up from the ground to see who was still left to be picked. He spotted Pony curled up into a ball, sleeping on top of the chairs with his dirty green hoodie on. Yolk was lying face down into the plastic chairs. The passing seconds felt like passing hours, as the ticking and tocking of the wall clock almost drove Thae to insanity. After few minutes, which felt like an hours, Chsn opened the door once more and said, “Yolk you’re next.” He groaned as he got up slowly from his slumber, got onto his feet and followed Chsn. Another eternity later, she comes back. “Pony you’re next.” Thae was all alone now. Nothing to keep him entertained, no one to keep him company. The clock continued to tick obnoxiously, as if it were taunting Thae. His eyes lock onto the clock and watch the second hand slowly move round and round. To entertain himself, Thae began to think of random philosophical thoughts to dwell on. “That clock is just a merry go round of life. Ever so majestic as it constantly moves, never stopping for anything. Although it may seem as if time is faster or slower, time stops for no one, but rather we stop for time. Man maybe this waiting room is what the afterlife is like. Maybe this is what being in limbo feels like. Going nowhere, doing nothing, just waiting. No way it’s like that. This must be hell. Eternal boredom, eternal dissatisfaction. Motivation to do nothing, except get out. Sure I’ll get out of here one of these days, but maybe hell is just like this but you never get out. I wonder if robot horses dream of robotic sheep. That’s a fun thou-” The slamming of the door against the wall snapped Thae out of his session of deep, pointless thought. Chsn knew Thae knew what was up, so she simply waved him over, and he followed obediently. Thae reached the doorway and peeked through it as he made his way towards Chsn, who was opening the door open for him. It was just a regular old hallway. Linoleum floor tiles, fluorescent lights, and beige walls. Thae stepped onto the Linoleum and Chsn closed the door behind them. They silently walked down the hallway to the steel door ahead of them, which Chsn hurried to reach first to open for Thae. With a quick swipe of a keycard, the door slowly opened, and Thae exited the waiting room.