a pigeon is sitting on her hand

A Quiet Day in the Park

The title is a gotdamn lie. You have been deceived. PennywisexReader nsfw but no actual sex. But it is still pretty hot. Big thanks to @floating-catastrophe for the prompt and to @pimmelwise for keyboard smashing compliments at me. I apologize for any spelling mistakes but I’ve been drinking and it’s a wonder I can even read at this point. 

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and the dish ran away with the spoon

okay. here it is. if you’ve been wondering why i’ve been posting about geese for so long, this is why. it’s The Goose AU. based on this joke prompt sent to me by the lovely @lovelycraters (who also drew ABSOLUTELY AMAZING ART for this that imma make her post asap). all the thanks to @startofamoment, who helped me world-build and egged me on from a dumb 3-sentence response to this and to @jakelovesamy for listening to me whine and googling yacht clubs in nyc and obscure latvian dishes. and to @wrenjamin​ who has listened to me develop a severe goose phobia over the past several weeks THOSE THINGS HAVE T E E T H YALL 

For Terry, it was a falcon. A dark, oversized, absolutely majestic (at least, according to Terry) bird landed on his windowsill every day for a week, disappearing as he got dressed in the morning, until Sunday morning, when it tapped on his window gently with its beak, asking for entry. It led him to the farmers’ market, where he bumped into Sharon, also in line to buy locally-sourced honey.

For Charles, it was a dog, a mutt who ran up and started humping his leg in the middle of the grocery store. It wasn’t until he’d taken the dog home, when none of his neighbors seemed aware of its presence, that Charles realized that this particular stray was meant to lead him to his soulmate. Twelve days later, on a walk, the dog dragged him to an exotic food truck he’d been in search of for almost a year, where Genevieve was doling out Latvian frikadelu zipa.

For Gina, it was a panther, large and sleek. It twined around her legs for a day, prompting her to frequently and dramatically strut around the precinct, bragging about jeweled collars and fur as smooth and voluminous as her own perfectly-conditioned hair. The squad resisted the urge to point out that none of the rest of them could appreciate the apparent magnificence of the panther – Gina may live her life out loud, but they’d never seen her this transparently happy. That night, the panther accompanied her to watch a dark, curly mane of hair win a motorcycle race for which her love was the prize.

Given these experiences, Jake is fully prepared for a majestic, dignified lone wolf. Obviously, it would be large enough for him to ride like a horse straight to Diamond Point Yacht Club, where a gorgeous speedboat model would be lounging in the sun, her own wolf napping beside her.

These expectations are why, when a goose lands in his passenger seat on a mundane overcast Monday morning, Jake’s first emotion is annoyance.

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post-botw, when they go on their little adventure together, link and zelda shared their first kiss while sitting at a campfire as night. they were huddled because the wind was chilly and the fireflies were buzzing around and zelda just looked so pretty, and link took her hand in his and smooched her. i can confirm this happened because i was a pigeon watching from atop a tree. he also shot me with an arrow in the morning and used my drumstick as part of their breakfast. wow!

head in the game (Pidge/Lance)


Lance’s plan for his senior year goes like this:

  1. Snag a second-time championship title for Voltron Academy.
  2. Finally buy a new car.
  3. Pass AP Computer Science.

Tripping and falling flat on his face for their basketball manager? 

Not part of the list.

A/N: this ship crawled out of the woodwork and punched me in the face, so naturally I had to write fic.  for @longhairpidge and @flusteredkeith, whom I blame for everything.

[Read and review over on Ao3] or continue under the cut.

The air is heavy with defeat.

Final score: 52 to 41.  Hardly enough to be considered a blowout, but the somber atmosphere of the locker room suggests otherwise. It’s difficult to believe that this is the same team that managed to snatch a victory from under Galra Tech’s nose at last year’s championship.

But that’s exactly the problem—they aren’t the same team, a fact made painfully obvious by the stony silence of their new team captain.  Keith’s hands are fisted in the fabric of his shorts, head bent and gaze drilling into the floor.

“All right.” Coach Coran clears his throat.  “Chin up, boys.  Nobody’s died.”

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Rex worked so hard helping my mom change her fish’s water, now she gets some seed as a reward. (By helping I mean sitting on my mom’s shoulders and licking water droplets off her hands and almost falling into the fish tank)

A Road Paved In Gold (7/?)

Summary: Steve Trevor was never meant to die in the sky above Belgium for the reasons much bigger than he could ever imagine, and when he didn’t, it seemed like a miracle.

However, surviving came with a price that changed the course of his life, making him wonder if he deserved it.

A/N: You’re going to yell at me…

AO3 |  Fanfiction.net

Themyscira, 1945

“Am I human?” Steve asked Hippolyta before she’d finished their conversation and left him alone in the cavernous room, the words tasting odd in his mouth and the concept so wild he couldn’t believe he’d even thought of it.

“Of course, you are,” she responded, surprised. “What else would you be?”

What else?

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jstar1382  asked:

Continuation of #319 because you love me. ;)

#321 (previous here) (or search kate drunk london)


“Hang on, you’re not kidding about the haunted thing?” she asked, following him inside. 

“Why would I be kidding?” He glared at her, flipped on the bathroom light. She caught a white flare of marble before her eyes left the narrow range of Castle’s frustration to the world beyond. 

“Oh. Oh my God.” A sense of vast majestic light through a wall of tall and narrow windows. “Oh my God, Castle. You didn’t.”

“It’s not on top of Room 333, but it’s close enough that it’s - you know - rather available. I have to-”

She jerked her eyes back to him in time to see him duck into the bathroom, and she waved him off, wandered towards the windows.

Oh, God, this place. 

The light was insane, spilling in through nine foot windows and bathing the sitting room in gold and amber. Pale grey curtains were hung from the rounded ceiling, drawn back to allow a panoramic view. The very scenes of London, bustle and traffic, flags and prams, pigeons on statues. 

She touched a hand to the cream-colored couch and smoothed her fingers over the silk throw. Silk. Cashmere pillows. Soft-pile carpet with tasteful art on the walls. 

But of course it was the view.


She turned. “Ghosts,” she sighed, shaking her head. “Castle, this is too much-”

“I want a good night’s sleep, and this is what they had available. The bedroom is through there, but look at the sitting room. I could sleep on the couch if need be. You want the bathroom?”

“Yeah, I… but Rick-”

“Damn it, Kate. The place is haunted. They have ghosts coming out of their ears. Every floor. It’s not just for you. This is what they had.”

“Yeah.” She turned her head, made stiffly for the bathroom, pushing past him. Not for her. Not for her. She had to get that through her head.


She avoided his grasp and slid inside the bathroom, shut the door after her. 

Bowed forward, elbows tucked into her sides to breathe. Trying to breathe. It hurt. This gorgeous room, those windows and the light, the idea that maybe he was trying to make up for something, that he was using a cover story about a haunting to give her something beautiful…

But he wasn’t.

He was furious and sad; she was indignant and grieved. It was too late; it had passed them by.


anyone else read that orginal pilot game of thrones script? here are some of my favorite (read: not favorite) parts:

“If Cersei knew this at one point, she had forgotten. She sees Catelyn’s distressed look and follows her gaze to the children’s table, where Sansa looks as radiant as ever, chatting with young Princess Myrcella.

Arya, on the other hand, has already ruined her evening dress. She uses her spoon as a catapult to fling a wad of pigeon pie at Bran, across the table. It hits him square in the forehead.”

“Arya sits near the door. Her needlework is as grim as Sansa’s is perfect, her face as plain as Sansa’s is beautiful”

“Arya sighs and goes to take what she’s got coming.”

arya spending the whole scene with jon making fun of bran and bragging she could do it better instead of saying her iconic lines “the woman is important too” and just remarking it looks more fun than needlework

them implying that she hates needlework because it’s not something that boys do versus it’s something she’s forced to do and then ridiculed constantly about her lack of ability

so fucking remind me which sister they hate more.

they have never, ever respected arya or her storyline.

and i know arya doesn’t need to be beautiful to be worth something but fuck everyone at this point I can’t wait for her to go back to westeros and be considered one of the most beautiful women in the country and i want every male POV to remark on how pretty she’s gotten to pound it into every neckbeard’s head who buy into sansa and jeyne’s arya horseface shit that arya is and has always been attractive.

New York City Gothic

-Only the native New Yorkers know the ways of the subway.  Only those familiar with it dare to ride.  If you do not know your stop, you can become lost in the maze of the train, never heard from again

-”Don’t go outside in the dark” Mothers warn their children.  In the dark, things come out to play.  If you glance outside, you can see the shadows of children-like shapes and glowing eyes as they play at night.  

-You hear a voice from the alleyway as you walk home.  You turn to look, but theres no one there.  You keep walking, and the voice follows you home, only to creep into your house and whisper to you from closet.

-People have gotten lost in Central Park.  They wander in it, looking for an exit, until they become one with the park, whispering warning to people on the breeze

-Every night at midnight, the subway goes by.  No one knows where it’s coming from or where it’s going.  No one knows what it carries with it.

-You see the same pigeon everyday.  It is the same pigeon.  It stares at you, eyes following you.  It follows you to work and follows you home.  Where ever you travel to, there sits the pigeon, waiting for you.

-The nuns at the Catholic school warn of monsters and demons.  They hand out  crucifixes and warn children of the dangers that will befall them should they forget it.  Instead the classrooms, the walls moan and cry with the sounds of children.  One of the nuns smiles and her teeth are rat sharp.  Maybe the dangers lie within these walls instead of outside

 -There is only the Yankees.  Everyone is a fan of the Yankees.  “New Yorker Pride” the radio stations proclaim.  It sounds like a chant.  It sounds like a ritual.

-During the summers, the heatwaves strikes.  The streets seem to melt and the buildings seem to cry.  There is no relief.  On the beach, women lounge.  No one knows where they come from.  Their skin sparkles in the light and their hair is always wet.  They never sweat.  One person asks them who they are.  They smile and their teeth are razor sharp.  Their eyes are black and there are fish bones in their hair.  No one approaches them again.

-If you travel to the top of the Empire State Building you can see everything.  You can see Brooklyn, the Bronx, Queens.  You can see New Jersey.  You can see through time and space.  Down below, you see horse and carriages, you see women in ball gowns.  You see flappers and pin-up girls of the 50s.  They all seem to look at you.  You leave feeling as if you have too much.

-I heart NYC shirts appear in your drawers.  You do not remember buying them.  They seem to multiply when you wash them.  You heart NYC.  You love your city.

The Other (Bucky x Reader) Part 18

Summary: Being a mutant with abilities is difficult enough, without having all this soulmate business to deal with in addition. Y/N meets hers in the least expectant place, but isn’t necessarily as thrilled as he’d hoped. However, a drastic turn of events require them to go to desperate measures to preserve what little they have.

Chapter List


Part Eighteen

You emerged from the stairwell to see everyone else surrounding the kitchen counter, and decided to see what all the fuss was about.

“This one’s for…. Clint,” Tony said, handing him a box. Clint took it and retreated to the dining table between the sitting room and the kitchen, flinging himself down on the chair. “This one’s for Capsicle, this one’s for Pigeon, and-”

“Dude,” Sam said, an annoyed expression on his face. “We talked about this.”

Tony didn’t seem to care, and continued to dig around the bag.

“This one’s for me… This one’s for Robocop… and this one’s for the disabled telekinetic,” he finished, pushing a box towards you. Your jaw tensed and you narrowed your eyes. 

You were about to open your mouth to retort, when someone cut you off.

“That’s enough, Stark.”

Steve pushed past you and grabbed the salt shaker. Tony shrugged, before looking around the room.

“Where is Robocop?”

“Washing his hands,” Steve replied. “And you’d better be damn careful talking about his girl like that.”

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anonymous asked:

i dont know much about birds, what exactly do you mean when you refer to yourself as rex's human mate?

Pigeons are monogamous and mate for life, when I got Rex she had the option of choosing a fellow pigeon as her mate but decided I was better. She now believes we’re mates and does all of the pigeon courtships with me like cuddling, dancing, and building a nest and asking me to sit on it (I put my hand on the eggs).

Undefinable (Chapter 1)

Summary:  High School AU. Lance likes Hunk. Hunk likes Lance. There should really be no problem there, except neither of them thinks the other knows they exist. Keith and Pidge just want their dumb friends to be happy but that won’t happen unless they can get them to talk.
Rating: T
Pairings: Kidge, Hance, and a little Shallura

Also posted on fanfiction.net and archiveofourown

Chapter 1

Lance sighed dreamily for the fifth time since he sat down, his eyes focused on the back corner of the classroom. “How do you think he gets his hair to look so nice?”

His best friend, Katie “Pidge” Holt, arched an eyebrow as she raised her eyes to look at him. “Good conditioner? I don’t know. Do you think you could focus on our assignment and not on how nice your boyfriend looks today?”

“He’s not–! We’re not–!” Lance moaned in despair and dropped his head onto the table they shared, never noticing the odd looks of their fellow classmates. “Piiiiiidge,” he whined, drawing out her name.

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Kitty Jealously - Part 3

Part One: http://vanilla107.tumblr.com/post/137833448390/kitty-jealously-one-shot

Part two: http://vanilla107.tumblr.com/post/138425891630/kitty-jealously-part-two

Latest fic with @tahciram​: https://vanilla107.tumblr.com/post/147605392890/love-like-a-crescendo-part-one

Hey Miraculors! I can finally say that THIS IS THE LAST PART OF KITTY JEALOUSY! *screams happily and falls off chair * It has been really busy for @inspiringnfamous and I with school work piling up and other personal commitments but IT’S FINALLY DONE! I would be lying to you if I told you that this wasn’t one of my favourite fanfictions to write because it really was. A HUGE HUG TO @inspiringnfamous FOR BEING MY PARTNER IN CRIME WITH THIS. She wrote parts when I had writers block so if you loved reading this go to her blog and send her loads of LOVE!

And thank you to everyone who reblogged, liked and commented on this fanfiction. The amount of feedback we got on the first day of Kitty Jealousy was amazing and the support was insane. This isn’t the last time we are collaborating together so @inspiringnfamous and I will defiantly have a new fanfiction out, but much later because of our exams. Anyway, thank you and we hope you enjoy the story! :) *****************************************************************************************************

If anyone had to tell Adrien a week ago that he would be kissing Marinette Dupain-Cheng ,he wouldn’t have laughed, but patted them on the back with an awkward smile. It wasn’t that the boy didn’t liked Marinette, it was just that his Lady was basically the only girl he thought about in that way. That, until he felt jealous over his Princess. The sudden feeling of comfort around her now being noticed and the urge to be near her every time he had a chance was something new.

To be honest, Ladybug didn’t crossed his mind these past few days since there wasn’t any akuma to fight ,so his thoughts and embarrassing actions were only for Marinette.

Adrien still didn’t think about his partner as he sat on Marinette’s chaise lounge, Noir sleeping beside him and Plagg eating a large piece of cheese bread from Marinette’s desk. The boy smiled, watching the beautiful girl pacing in front of them while she spoke about her ideas of how to find the cat’s owner. “Maybe some posters and flyers around the park will do the job just fine. I can design them too…” she mumbled. Adrien got up and walked towards Marinette, who was busy searching for her notebook.

The blond enveloped her in his arms from behind and nuzzled her neck. Marinette froze, her breathe caught for a moment before giggle a little. Now, if someone had told her a week ago that Adrien Agreste is in fact Chat Noir she would’ve laughed. She would’ve laughed so hard maybe she would’ve fallen over and then she had looked at them in the eyes and explained with a stern expression her many reasons of how Adrien can’t be Chat Noir. “That’s just ridiculous, after all.”

Life can be bitchy sometimes, but sweet in the weirdest ways.

Adrien turned her around to kiss her, just needing to feel her lips again. He felt his chest warm every time they were together and he loved the feeling of her in his arms. The smell of her skin make him a melt, the softness of her hands when they rest on his cheeks felt like home and he just loved it when the girl lost it all and blushes as red as a stop signal.

His eyes softened when they met hers and he started to lean in. This is right, this feels right, he want to be like this with her forever. When they were a breathe apart from Marinette’s dreams and hopes coming true once again, the girl’s brain kicked in like a train wreck and everything hit her at once.

She has been kissing Adrien.

She has been kissing ADRIEN AGRESTE.

And Adrien Agreste has been kissing HER.

In her bedroom.

At night.

Oh dear Lord, help her because she was going to faint. Marinette’s eyes widened as she put the pieces of the puzzle together. She stuttered something that sounded like an excuse as she pushed him away slightly and starting talking faster than usual.

“Oh my…are you kitten me? This whole time it has been you. How is it possible! HOW didn’t I see it before? It’s so obvious! I’m so stupid, I can’t believe it. Oh gosh, you have been hit so many times! Are you hurt? Is everything fine? How many fingers do you see?”

Adrien didn’t hear it all, or maybe he didn’t understand it, but he heard something perfect come out of Marinette’s mouth. He grinned in such a proud, amused and, maybe, mischievous way that Marinette gradually stops her babbling to look up at him with confusion in her eyes.

“You said a pun.” he cooed. Adrien’s smile widened just as fast at Marinette’s eyes did in realization.

“OH MY GOD. YOU ARE TERRIBLE.” Marinette threw her hands in the air in frustration, giving up in the boy cracking beside her.

“I can’t believe that with just a few months I got you saying a pun!”

“Who said a pun?” The small voice asked from the desk. Both teenagers turned around to see the black cat-like kwami engulfing his last piece of cheese bread.

“Marinette here said a cat pun,” Adrien smiled to Plagg as he reached over to Marinette to side hug her. “I’m so proud right now.” He wiped a non-existent tear of happiness. On the other hand, Marinette wanted to punch him in the face. Her fist was tingling for it.

“Oh for God’s sake, you corrupted the poor girl!” Plagg quickly floated over to pat the girl’s head with a soothing tiny paw.

“I suppose he did.” Marinette mumbled, annoyance laced in her words. Letting herself free from the boy’s hold she walked towards the now awake ,Noir. “I like you the most since you don’t talk. Alas, maybe if you could, you wouldn’t say shitty cat puns, right cutie?” She nose-kissed the cat with a smile as the little animal did the same, mewing.

“HEY!” Marinette heard her ‘unpleasant’ guest complaining but she didn’t pay attention to it.

“Come on, now that you are awake let’s feed you and then I’ll have a photoshoot prepared for you.” The cat mewed again, swinging his tail lazily as Marinette hold him like one should hold a baby. “Oh Gosh, you are so cute, Noir!” And she disappeared down the stairs.


The room went totally silent until…

“You screwed it… Again.”

“Can you shut up for a moment?!” Adrien blurted out, looking at his kwami with daggers already in his eyes.


Every tree. Every tree in the park has it’s own flyer. The two teenagers had been gluing and asking around for about an hour now, the cat never leaving Marinette’s side more than four seconds to sniff trees or chase after birds.

They asked the families near the carousel. They asked the families feeding the pigeons. They also asked one homeless person sitting outside the park, who knows, maybe he had a cat.

But no one had lost a cat. Some families looked interested though, since the kids petted Noir excitedly and he was more than friendly with them, but Marinette wasn’t going to just throw Noir to someone else’s hands just because they liked it.

It’s true that a little part of her wanted and actually hoped that they didn’t find the owners and she felt bad about such a selfish thought but she just took so much care into the little animal following her close behind that she didn’t think she have the heart strength to see him being taken away. She sigh, knowing that maybe there’s a little boy or girl, or just someone missing their pet and she felt a little guilty. She squat down, scooping the cat into her arms and hugging him a little and to kept walking.

Adrien started to notice the girl’s mood going down a few moments ago and he didn’t know how to come with something to make her feel better. Her little smile fainted and her beautiful eyes clouded with something that looked like concern. She kept stroking the cat’s head faster and faster and Adrien knew it was starting to annoy his nemesis. He contemplated whether he should let Noir suffer a little but changed his mind. He wasn’t that cruel,

He stopped walking and gently touched Marinette’s shoulder to get her attention.

“Okay, what is it?” He asked, concern heard in every word and a frown on his face.

“What do you mean?”

“You are just five strokes away to, either ripping the fur off his head or being bitten.”

“Oh.” She stop her hand suddenly, taking it away as if it has been burned. She looked down to see the annoyed expression of the cat and laughed nervously “I’m so sorry, Noir.”

Adrien sighed taking the animal in his hands and motioning Marinette to sit on a nearby bench. Noir, to Adrien’s surprise, curled up on his lap and began to purr.

“Talk to me, Marinette.”

“I just…” the girl trailed off, sighing and hiding her face in her hands. “I don’t think I’ll be able to just see him be taken by someone else.”

Adrien listened to the shake in her voice and he bowed his head, taking a look at the cat in his lap. It was true that Noir was kinda cute in some way. At least it wasn’t a dog, right? The soft purr made its way to his core and he wanted to purr too, feeling strangely pleasant for the first time being near Noir.

The sound coming very clearly from his inner pocket and he looked inside to be welcomed by a lazy looking kwami laying in a corner, eyes closed. The boy huffed, redirecting his attention to Marinette once again. She was now leaning back, hands on her tights and looking weary. Adrien wanted to do something, but what?

“So, tell me…” The girl looked at him, expecting whatever he had to say “Why did you called it Noir? He pointed to the sleeping cat with his finger.

Marinette’s cheeks lit up like fire trucks and her expression changed completely to a cute flustered one. Adrien smiled, well at least she wasn’t sad anymore.

“I-I… Well, is funny, it just… I thought- Oh my…” The more she tried to explain herself the more difficult was to understand her and the more amused Adrien got.

After what looked like a whole minute of babbling and strange hand gestures she finally took a deep breathe and muttered something, her hair hiding her face just a bit.

“It reminded me a lot of Chat Noir…”

The amusement on his face faded as his eyes widened in surprise. She thought about Chat Noir when she found the cat. She was thinking about HIM. She named her pet after him.

Was it good the heating feeling of pride in his chest? The smug smile now placed on his lips? The teasing tone in his voice when he talked as he stroked the cat’s back like the people in movies?

“Well well, I’m flattered that you think about me, Princess, but let me tell you that I’m obviously better looking.” Marinette’s jaw almost touched the ground. Was he making fun of her embarrassment or it was just his inner Chat taking over and shit-talking on the situation?

She didn’t know, maybe it was. She sat there thinking of different ways of how to wipe that stupid smile off his face. She thought about shouting at him while throwing her arms in surrender and stomping away, leaving him there with the cat.

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

Adrien chuckled and wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gazed at the park, which was bathed in the dying golden light of the afternoon sun. He felt a weight on his shoulder and found that the bluenette had fallen asleep. He smiled but sighed. Sure, Noir wasn’t his favourite cat but he made Marinette happy. And he hated seeing his Princess so unhappy. ******************************************* 


 Her head snapped up at the sound of her name. Adrien burst through her room door, the biggest smile on his face. Marinette felt her face flush. Adrien was breathless, his cheeks a light pink and his hair was a mess. But a gorgeous golden mess. It still seemed surreal that Adrien Agreste was Chat Noir…but she didn’t have a problem with it anymore. It made her life so much easier.

“Adrien? What is it?” she asked getting up from her desk, leaving a slightly irritated Noir in her arms. “ I found Noir’s owners!” he said excitedly. Relief filled Marinette but was squashed down with the realization that this was the last time she was ever going to see Noir again. “Oh, that’s…great.” she said trying to appear cheerful. Adrien didn’t seem to notice her behaviour. “C’mon, Mari! They’re downstairs!” he said grabbing her hand and scooping Noir in the other. 

Marinette wanted to cry. Did Adrien really hate Noir that much? He wasn’t even going to let her say goodbye to the cat she had grown so fondly of this past few weeks? He walked downstairs with her and smiled. “Mari, meet Noir’s owners.” Marinette looked up and gasped. 

“Manon! You’re Noir’s owner?” 

Manon giggled, her brown curls shaking. “Yes, and his name is Fluffybutt!” The little girl picked up Noir and crushingly embraced it. “ Oh Fluffy, I missed you so much!” Noir gave Marinette a look as if to say ‘please help me.’ Marinette looked at Adrien and smiled gratefully. No wonder he wasn’t upset, he knew that she babysat Manon and that she would still be able to see Noir again! 

Marinette stood up and lightly kissed Adrien on the cheek. “Thank you.” she whispered. “EW! MARINETTE HAS A BOYFRIEND! MARI HAS A BOYFRIEND!” Manon yelled jumping up and down with Noir still in her arms. “He’s not my-.” Marinette began but Manon was too busy laughing. 


A few hours later, Marinette laid in bed, questions floating in and out of her mind.

 Was Adrien her boyfriend? Were they a thing? Were they even something?

What were they exactly?

 He hadn’t asked her out. But she loved spending time with him. He had kissed her as Chat and as Adrien which meant..something. And he did help her look for Noir’s owner but was that only because he wanted to get rid of Noir? She was still confused. He only kissed her because of jealousy…not because he loved her. Marinette felt a wave of cold wash over her.



Her stomach did somersaults and she couldn’t take it anymore. She jumped out of bed and checked the time. It was only 8:00 and that gave her plenty of time to go and give the Agreste household a visit.

“Tikki! Spots on!”


Ladybug landed on the roof of the Agreste household and slid down onto Adrien’s large window. She looked around his room and finally spotted him at his computer, talking to Plagg. She smiled and knocked on his window. She saw his muscles tense as he hid Plagg in his shirt and spun his chair around. She giggled when his jaw dropped and as he ran over to let her in.

“L-Ladybug! Um..UH, what are you doing here? Not that I don’t want your company, just uh- that it’s sudden and-.” Ladybug silenced him as she pressed her lips to his and wrapped her arms around his neck. She felt his body tense and he broke off the kiss, gently pushing her away. “ Ladybug…I…I like someone…someone else…maybe even more…but this is wrong…I can’t betray her like this.” he said softly.

She smiled. “Care to enlighten me with this girl’s name?” The way Adrien’s eyes brightened when he said Marinette’s name nearly made her fall. He said it with such passion..such love. “She’s the most amazing girl, Ladybug.” Adrien sighed dreamily. Ladybug smiled and decided to put her ‘Operation Marinette’s Reveal’ into action. “Wow, you’re usually so cocky and flirty, Chat. So how’s your Princess doing?” Adrien froze. 

“What did you say?”

“How your Princess is doing? You do call her Princess don’t you?” she teased. Adrien was silent as the pieces fell into place. “Marinette? Is that you?” Ladybug smiled as she detransformed. “Hello Adrien.” she said softly but the happiness was evident on her face.

The boy gaped as the separate images of Ladybug and Marinette collided together in his head. Was he really that blind? It was so obvious that Marinette was Ladybug. Maybe if he wasn’t that stupidly flirty and lovesick he would’ve notice the unmasked girl behind him earlier.

But wait, wasn’t this perfect? His Lady is also his Princess. Maybe Plagg wasn’t that unlucky after all and Adrien could be happy with both girls he loved.

Not both girls.
The one girl who happened to be his partner and his Lady and his Princess. The one who bandaged him up, the one who looked out for him,the one who dealt with his horrible puns.

After several minutes of Adrien staring at her ,his face lit up and Marinette, who was starting to panic because of the blond’s expression, relaxed a little and shyly smiled back. Adrien lost no time and hugged her, burying his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent.

“I am so stupid, you both have the same smell. What an useless cat instinct.” he chuckled, face still hidden and he heard her giggle, embracing him with her slender arms.

“You silly alley cat,” Marinette was facing him now with both hands interlocked on his nape, a sweet smile on her face and Adrien thought he was going to faint at the sight of such beauty. “I can’t believe we were so blind.”

“Mhmm” the blond hummed letting her go from the hug and placing a hand on her cheek. She closed her eyes, feeling delighted at the touch when suddenly she heard, “I love you, Marinette.”

Marinette’s eyes snapped open at his words and she looked into his deep green eyes, to be met with an intense feeling of sincerity.

“I love you, both sides of you. You made me fall for you twice, Princess. You made me experience true jealously maybe for the first time and it was because of an actual cat.” Marinette laughed a little through her glassy eyes and the fluttering feeling in her stomach.

“I don’t think I love you more now because you are Ladybug, I think I love Ladybug more because it’s you.” Adrien smiled at her and wiped a tear from her cheek. “ Don’t cry my Lady, please.” Marinette slammed a little fist on his chest and took in a warily breath.

“You stupid cat boy with your cheesy lines and your stupid adorable face. You can’t just say those things so easily!” Adrien smiled softly at her knowing that her babbling was about to start.

“Maybe as Chat, I didn’t love you in the same way at first. That was all because of Noir. But I learned how to in another way. You made your way inside my heart as Ladybug and as Marinette and now I love you because it’s you. I love you, I’ll always love you and you can be sure that I loved you in one way or another as Chat and Adrien this whole time!”

Her tears fell on the floor as she looked up to the boy with glassy eyes as well.

“I feel the same way, Adrien. I…I was trying so hard to deny my feelings for Chat because I liked you…and then you kissed me as Chat…And oh God, I was confused. I didn’t know who I liked anymore. But you couldn’t imagine my relief when you turned out to be Chat. Yes it was a little strange at first…but…I…I love both parts of you. And I hope you never change that.”

Adrien felt warmth from his chest spread through his entire body. He opened his arms for her again and then sat on the couch with Marinette still in his embrace. She nuzzled his chest and hugged him tightly by the waist.

“So, are you gonna stop soaking my pocket or what?” Adrien winced, remembering about the little annoying creature in his shirt pocket.

“Perfect timing, Plagg” the boy sighed and Marinette giggled, wiping her tears away. She could get used to this.

This was home.

ML Baby’s Day Out AU

So @piku-chan and I have been on a Baby Adrienette high lately and I remembered this movie I watched as a kid and loved very much. Comedy is my favorite genre and Baby’s Day Out is hilarious so I imagined Baby Adrien doing the antics Baby Bink got into in the movie and I had to write this. 

Piku-chan and I discussed it a lot and swapped headcanons and now Viola :

  • Baby Adrien Agreste is born to famous designer Gabriel Agreste and his wife Estelle Agreste. He has an older brother Felix Agreste who is 16 years apart from him but loves him no less.
  • Already having faced trouble with media when Felix was born, Mama and Papa Agreste decide to keep Baby Adrien out of the media for as long as possible. Eventually Gabriel’s publicist informs him that hiding Adrien away forever won’t work and now that he is a year old, an article on him won’t be a bad idea especially with the new summer line being released in a few months.
  • Gabriel and Estelle discuss it and eventually decide that one article and that is all they allow. On Gabriel’s instruction Nathalie books an appointment with the most well known Baby Photography center in Paris who are often hired for celebrity children photo-shoots. Their normal photographer is out of the country and so Nathalie hires the best business in that area.
  • The morning of the shoot, Gabriel leaves the house after kissing his family goodbye and, although he is generally stoic and reserved, he lets that demeanor slide and plays with his youngest son who is in his older brother’s arms, making the baby laugh brightly. It is with that image in mind he leaves for work, inspired by his family which is essentially his muse.
  • Wanting to make the one photo count Mama Agreste dresses her baby boy up grandly in one of Gabriel’s designs. Felix (who is now 17) is left to babysit while Mama Agreste gets ready herself. The older boy adores his younger brother and Adrien loves it when Felix reads to him. As a result, Felix has the book ‘Baby’s Day Out’ memorized to a T and can recite it by heart. It’s still Adrien’s favorite book though so Felix puts up with it despite having read it a million times over.
  • Unknown to the Agreste’s, three criminals hijack the Baby Photography van, intent on kidnapping a rich child. Hawkmoth and his two workers, Nooroo and Mr. Pigeon, seeing the Agreste’s appointment, arrive at the mansion under the guise of the photographers.

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Love Letters To A Stranger

Title: Love Letters To A Stranger (One Shot)

Genre: Romance/Fluff

Rating: K

Notes: This is just a little something I threw together tonight.  Let me know what you think!


Every time the doors opened to allow another stream of riders onto the car, he hoped that she would be there.  Most days she was, in her long bubble gum pink coat with the shiny black shoulder bag on her right side.  She always got in the last car and turned to the left and took a seat whilst pulling a book from her bag.  That’s what had caught his eye the first day.  She always had a book, not an e-reader like so many commuters.  Sometimes she would sit and place the book on her lap.  Her little hands would clasp it for a minute, as if she was making herself wait and enjoying the anticipation. 

How he loved to watch her read!  Unlike the other stoic and expressionless readers on the train, her face always mirrored whatever she feeling.  Smiles, little gasps, stifled giggles.  The first time she brushed away a tear, he almost flew to her side like a careening pigeon.  She had closed her eyes for a few seconds and shut the book quickly.  It was a hardcover and the sharp snap of the pages being pressed so swiftly together could be heard through the train car.  He waited to see what she would do next.  She was still.  Some time passed.  She brushed away another tear.  When she opened the book again, he guessed that she must have re-read the offending passage; a few more tears slipped down her cheeks and she was shaking her head ever so slightly.

He starting writing them on the evening he saw her for the second time.  After all, what better way to prepare for a role as a writer than to write?  He scratched out the words in pencil on yellow lined paper, tearing off the sheets and putting them in envelopes with the date on them.  Remembering how obsessively he had drafted and edited papers at university, he forced himself to just write and not erase anything, letting the little squiggles of communication flow out of his pencil like an open tap. 

“My beautiful bluestocking” began each letter.  Sometimes they were poems, sometimes descriptions of his day and what he had observed about her on that particular evening.  Sometimes he wrote pages and pages about what how they would spend their time together, if it actually occurred.  Sometimes he included bits from Shakespeare or silly literary puns that he thought might make her laugh.  By the end of the first week, the contents changed.  He began to include things about himself.  Personal issues, fears, goals, and desires all found their way onto the page.  He hadn’t begun the experiment with the intent of self-discovery, but it was a delightful development.

As the days went by, he found himself thinking about her more and more.  What was her favorite food?  Where did she work?  She rarely spoke to anyone on the train, preferring instead to keep her nose in a book.  When he heard her voice for the first time, the non-descript American accent didn’t surprise him.  Although he couldn’t quite figure out how, he knew she was from across the pond. 

When the two week mark rolled around and he realized that tomorrow would be the last day of his commitment and he would be off on his next one, a cloud of melancholy settled on him as he wrote the final letter.  Surprised to find himself feeling as if he was saying goodbye to a friend even though he didn’t know her name, he made an impulsive decision to attempt to give them to her.  He reasoned with himself that she would be flattered.  What woman wouldn’t be flattered to receive love letters from a stranger?  She wouldn’t think it was strange, surely.  No, no, he told himself.  She would be pleased.  A woman who enjoyed reading as much as she did would appreciate what he had done.  Yes, she would be pleased.  If she wasn’t, he would never see again. 

That caused little pangs of something he couldn’t identify to shoot through his heart, but he simply shook it off.  Folding the pages carefully and placing them into the envelope, he wrote the date on the front and then took the stack and deposited them into a paper bag.

When the doors opened the next day and she wasn’t there, he expected to feel marginally relieved.  He would be spared the potential awkwardness of presenting her with such an unusual tribute.  But it wasn’t relief he felt.  It was disappointment.  And something else.  Longing?

He was trying to make sense of that when the doors opened at the next stop and a familiar pink blur entered the train with several other riders.

Now it was elation that sparked across his skin.  She was just at a different stop for some reason.

He tried to make his long legs move in her direction, but they were stubbornly refusing.  Suddenly the idea of rejection entered his mind.  What if she looked at him like he was crazy?  What if she got up and moved to another seat?  What if she accepted the bag warily and then dumped them into the rubbish right as she exited the train?

All of these thoughts and more were swirling around in his mind and he realized that his stop was next.  He willed his limbs to move and slowly made his way to her. 

“Excuse me, I’m sorry to disturb you.  My name’s Tom.  I’m an actor.”

He immediately feels ridiculous, like a gangly youth talking to his first girl.

She smiles at him, the rows of bright white teeth flashing between plump red lips.

“My name isn’t Tom and I’m not an actor.”

He laughs.

She laughs.

“These are for you.”

He offers her the bag.

She takes it.

“Goodbye,” he says, the train coming to a stop and the doors opening.

“Wait,” she calls out to him before he steps onto the platform. “What’s in the bag?”

He smiles.

“Love letters to a stranger.”

But what if the Warden was severly injured during Origins?

Wynne and Morrigan kneel over the Warden inside a tent at camp. Wynne calmly using her healing magic to stop the bleeding and stitch up the wound. She has done this before, but a there is a hint of worry that betrays her calm.

Morrigan using herbs and rags to control the Warden’s fever and prevent any infection. The witch’s fingers are more frantic and impulsive. She is no healer, but something she has not felt before compels her to be.

Alistair sits staring into the campfire. His memories of Duncan flickering in his mind like the dancing fire in front of him. Hoping to the Maker that he won’t lose another person he cares for. The Blight cannot take any more from him.

Sten grips Asala close to him as he paces around the perimeter of camp. His duty is to guard the camp, and he will.

Leliana kneels by the fire, reciting the Chant of Light. Pleading with the Maker to take care of her friend, their leader. She recalls her vision. The Warden cannot die here. The Darkness is still encroaching.

Zevran trains, absentmindedly throwing knives at a nearby tree, he tries to tell himself he is keeping his aim sharp. But of all the distractions he has enjoyed throughout his life, sex, money, power, practicing being a killer is the only thing that keeps his mind from drifting.

Oghren sits not far from Alistair. A half empty bottle in his hand, and two completely empty bottles at his feet. A fuzzy, blurry haze clouds his eyes, but it’s not from the alcohol.

Shale stands as still as ever. There is an uneasy stillness to her.

The Warden’s mabari lays whimpering by the ten. A twitch shakes through the proud beast whenever a gasp or cry of pain emanates from inside the tent.

Bodahn and Sandal organize their cart. Sandal is quiet, but Bodahn is the only one speaking in the camp. “Don’t you fret, my boy. The Warden will be fine. Just you wait.”

Aggregate (Part 1)

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x Daphne Greengrass

Word Count: ~1700

Written for: everyone tbh but provocative-envy and elicitillicit and cocoartistwrites and reghoulus and takeupserpents and acrimsonleather and everyone else who is rare pair trash

“Bloody buggering – ouch!” Charlie hissed, forcing his body to remain still as Dorin prodded a thickly gloved finger at his ribs.

“I tol’ ya not to get too close, mate,” his colleague’s unwelcome taunt pulled at his focus for a moment before it snapped sharply back to the throbbing red welt that ran up his side.

Charlie Weasley was a gruff sort of man, rough around the edges and scruffy around the chin and no wimp when it came to burns, but fucking hell could that Welsh Green sear you down to your very bones like you were just a bundle of tangled ticker tape.

“Can you just -” he inhaled sharply through his teeth as the other dragon tamer used a Severing Charm to cut his shirt away from his body. The gentle flicker of movement over his skin caused by the tattoo on his chest shifting to his other side was almost lost in the panic his nerves were experiencing.

“I’m trying, you arsehole, shut up for a minute,” Dorin overrode him.

Keep reading



Jack Gilinsky

The streetlights flicker dimly, casting an eerie glow onto the stark asphalt. The air outside is calm and undisturbed. If someone were to walk down the street the only sound would be the patter of their feet on the pavement. A somber sentiment radiates throughout the landscape. It’s quite amazing how deceiving the external picture can be.In the basement of one of the houses on the street, a much different vibe lingers in the air.

The smoke is so thick it gives a slight gray hue to everything in his field of vision. The base of the music pulsates straight through his chest, vibrating against his rib cage. He brings a blunt to his lips, inhaling like he has done a thousand times before. The smoke fills his lungs quickly before he exhales in a steady stream.

“That’s weak!” Sam laughs loudly, punching him in the arm.
“Yeah? What do you got then?” Jack fires back.
“Watch this,” Sam says, cockiness dripping off his words.

Sam takes the blunt from Jack’s grasp and puts it between his lips in one swift movement. He hollows out his cheeks and sucks in sharply. He then lets out three short puffs, producing three rings of smoke. Sam sits back and admires his work. A triumphant grin curves his mouth.

“Wow you’re so cool. Teach me your ways,” Jack says sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
“You’re both lame if you ask me,” Jack Johnson interjects. 
“Good thing we didn’t ask you,” Sam replies, blowing smoke in Johnson’s face.
“Don’t be a dick,” Johnson fans the smoke cloud surrounding him.
“You are what you eat,” Jack smirks.
“Nasty. Fuck off, man,” Sam grimaces.
“You started this,dipshit,” Johnson reminds him. 
Sam rolls his eyes and vacates his spot on the couch, a trail of smoke following close behind. His tall figure soon disappears up the stairs. 

The graduation party is as alive as ever. Masses of intoxicated teenagers sway to the music leaking out of the speakers. They’ll undoubtedly suffer from massive hangovers in the morning, but they don’t care because they’re high off the mentality that they’re graduates who can do whatever the fuck they want. 

Apart from the sea of dancing bodies that seems to move as one entity, a girl sits at the bar area. She slides a slender glass half filled with an amber liquid around with her finger tips. Her gaze looks distracted. Jack recognizes her as the girl who sat in front of him in psychology. She transferred to West Side halfway through the year. The reason for her abrupt appearance was never explained. In fact, there is little that anyone knows about her for sure. The few things about her that are indisputably clear are, one, she is top of the class, and two, she can be found at parties drinking and smoking with West Side’s best. 
The good-girl-bad-girl persona that is her sole characterization has proven to intrigue everyone.

Jack finds himself approaching her figure. Her lips are pursed in concentration, giving her the appearance of being deep in thought. Her hair is pushed off her shoulders so it flows down her back in soft waves that resemble curtains being stirred by a soft breeze. Everything about her is intoxicatingly beautiful. She delicately brings the glass to her lips and takes a sip. The burning sensation in her throat makes her smile. Jack slides onto the stool next to her, twirling the blunt with his fingers.

“You really are the stoner that everyone says you are,” she muses, not turning to look at him.
“You really are as elusive as everyone says you are,” Jack counters.
“Now where’s the fun in everyone pigeon holing you into a single archetype,” she turns her piercing eyes to look directly at him. 
The eye contact sends shivers throughout his entire body.
“I didn’t know you were friends with Mack. Or talked to him or whatever.”
“You say that like that you have reason to know anything about me at all.”
Jack puts his hands up as if to say ‘fair enough’.
“What are you doing at a party sitting by yourself?” he inquires out of genuine curiosity. 
“Thinking,” she states.
“How can you think over all the noise?” he asks incredulously. 
“How can you think when it’s quiet? When there’s no noise all your thoughts scream for attention all at once, making it near impossible to distinguish one from another. But when it’s loud I find that the most important thoughts find a way to be heard above all the noise while the trivial ones get lost in the sound,” she explains.

Jack stares at her with thoughtful eyes, letting her words sink in. He can almost feel what she said seeping into his skin and running through his veins, lighting him up in the most curious way. It’s nonsense, and yet he cannot find a flaw in her reasoning. The way she thinks is not the way in which most are accustomed to. 

“I’ve never looked at it that way before,” he finally responds.
“Most people don’t,” she shrugs indifferently. 
“But you do,” he keeps his eyes trained on hers.
A small smile plays at her lips as she brings the glass to her lips, arching an eyebrow.
“It’s getting hard to breathe with all the smoke. I’m going outside,” she hops off the stool, “You can join me if you’d like.”
Jack nods, abandoning his stool to follow her fleeting figure.

They lay on their backs in the grass. A blunt exchanges between two hands, one small and delicate, the other large and rough. They pass it back and forth for awhile, few words being spoken. The cool night breeze chases the excess smoke out of their lungs only for them to pollute themselves as quickly as they had been cleansed. 

“And here I thought alcohol was your poison of choice,” Jack teases lightly.
“I like all kinds of poison. I don’t limit myself to one type of destruction,” she responds. 

She shifts to place her hands behind her head, the hem of her tank top rising to expose the skin of her lower abdomen. Jack notices letters in black script curving and dancing across the top of her right hip bone. The ink spells out ‘Vivire Est Vincere’. 

“What’s it mean?” Jack whispers quietly, reaching his fingers out to trace the words.
She shivers slightly at the feeling of his skin on hers.
“To live is to conquer,” she answers, watching his fingers brush over the tattoo. 
“Why’d you get it?” he wonders aloud.
“It’s a reminder for the way I want to live my life. Too many people are infatuated with the idea of becoming extraordinary. They want to be something grand so they’ll be remembered on a large scale. That’s not a realistic goal. You can’t gage your life on big accomplishments. Surviving every day , simply being alive, is an accomplishment, and that should be enough. But for some people it’s not. I don’t want to be one of those people." 
"To live is to conquer,” Jack repeats in understanding. 
“The desire to be significant is insatiable, and it’ll destroy you if you let it,” she mutters bitterly.
“What are you getting at?”
“Nothing,” she relaxes.

Jack retracts his hand and sits up to look around. They walked pretty far out into the yard. No one else is around and he just can see the lights from the house. The moon casts shadows over everything in its path. The blades of grass appear to have knife like points on their ends, and the distance in front of them is nothing but black and slightly lighter shades of black. Something about his surroundings makes him feel like his mind is disconnected from his body. Or maybe that’s just the weed talking.

“Does that not freak you out?” Jack nods to the void space that seems to engulf them.
“To what are you referring?” she asks, sitting upright.
“The darkness. The vast nothingness.”
She shakes her head no.
“I’ve never understood why people are so afraid of the dark. It’s the daytime that they should really be afraid of. You can hide in the dark, but once the sun comes up all your scars and secrets reflect off your skin like luminescent tattoos. If you ask me, exposure is worse than the unknown,” she says nonchalantly. 

He ogles at her for what feels like the millionth time tonight. She has all the words in the world and he suddenly has none. Something about her sucked all the breath from his lungs, all the thoughts from his head. Somehow she had managed to become even more mysterious than she was as a stranger. Every part of him craves to know more. 

The effects of the drug makes everything seem cloudy. He wants to ask her more questions. He wants to break down who she is. He wants to know what everyone else wonders about but never bothers to ask, but he can’t think straight enough to come up with a cohesive string of words. In this moment all he can think about  is the intense voracity to know what her lips taste like.

Without a second thought, he slides his hand to cup her cheek and presses his lips to hers. She jerks in surprise but doesn’t push him away. Had she been sober she might have had the common sense to recoil, but instead she does the opposite. She fists her hands in his light T-shirt to pull him closer. His lips move against hers languidly in a way that she will never be able to un feel. His mouth on hers makes her feel a little less hollow. She knows this is selfish, but she can’t stop. 

“This is a bad idea,” She breathes against his lips.
“I don’t care,” he continues to kiss her.
“You should,” she runs her hand through his dark hair.
“We’re hidden in the dark,” his lips find a sweet spot on her neck.
“The sun will come up eventually.”
“But for now it’s just you, me, and the void,” he references the desolate environment.
She nudges his chin to bring his lips back to hers.
“You, me, and the void.”

Part 2

Whatever Makes You Happy

Requested by the lovely @volklana PROMPT: Hi :) could you maybe do a request where reader is a jazz singer in a tiny club and Bucky goes to see her every weekend because she reminds him of the 40s. He offers to walk her home one night and she invites him in for coffee and all fluff ensues?

I changed the concept slightly but I HOPE YOU ENJOY!

Inspired by this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m3lF2qEA2cw&spfreload=1

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Words: 1.7k

Originally posted by deniz-is-a-witch

Being Tony’s lab tech meant you spent a copious amount of time in the tower, so much so that eventually he just gave you a room down the hall. The team was ecstatic when you finally moved in; you brought something to the tower that was surely missing, joy. Your presence could light up an entire room, and it rubbed off on to the team. Granted Tony kept you cooped up in the lab for hours on end, which meant the team would have come to you. They would make excuses about something being broken, or malfunctioning just to be able to visit.

“I tried turning it on and off a few times but it still won’t work.” Natasha handed you her earpiece.

You looked it over a few times and unhooked the back latch to take a look.

“Nat, I love you but I swear your spy skills are in need of a tune up. Your earpiece is fine you just need new batteries.” You jokingly rolled your eyes and handed it back to her.

She stuck her tongue out, “Maybe I just wanted to stop and see you.”

“You don’t need an excuse to come see me, my door is always open.” You gave her a quick hug and send her on her way.

Just when you were about to get back to work Tony barges in.

“(Y/N)!!! Why are you still in here?!?” He looked slightly plastered.

You look up at him. “I’m working.”

“You should be getting ready! The party starts in 2 hours!!” He was inches from your face, the whiskey on his breath tickled the inside of your nose.

“I will leave after I finish this paperwork.” You said with a deadpan face.

He patted the top of your head. “Good girl. Now aren’t you going to wish someone a Happy Birthday?”

“Happy Birthday Mr. Stank.” you gave him a cheeky grin.

“You are never going to let me live that down are you?” he sighed.

“Never.” You gave him a friendly peck on the cheek and returned to your work as he walked out.

One thing was always true about Tony’s parties, he pulled out all the stops. Tonight things were even bigger because it was his birthday. It was a classic black-tie affair, crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, people drank cocktails from the open bar, as a full jazz band played in the background. The whole thing reminded you of a Great Gatsby party, grand and over the top just like Tony.

A waitress in a feathery Vegas showgirl costume handed you a martini as you made your way over to greet the others. The entire team took up a table, Sam and Steve moved over to make room for you.

“Stark really does know how to throw a party.” You almost shouted to the group because the room was filled with so much noise.

“Tony always has a trick up his sleeve.” Steve gave you a quick wink and nodded over to the stage where Tony took the microphone.

“Hey everybody, I hope you are all having a great time tonight. I have a special surprise for you all! My wonderful lab technician (Y/N) is going to sing for us!”

You shook your head in disagreement at Tony who only proceeded to egg you on.

“Oh come on (Y/N), I hear you singing all the time in the lab. Do it for me, it’s my birthday.”

He was just about to start the whole room chanting when you finally left your seat and made your way up to the stage.

You gave him the death glare as you took the mic. “You are lucky it’s your birthday Mr. Stank.”

You quickly turned around and told the band what to play. You smoothed out your black cocktail dress and pushed your gently curled hair over your shoulder as the music started.  

“When you were here before

Couldn’t look you in the eye

You’re just like an angel

Your skin makes me cry”

The crowd was silent, mesmerized by your melodious voice.

“You float like a feather

In a beautiful world

I wish I was special

You’re so very special”

You looked out into the crowd for a familiar face.

“But I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo

What the hell am I doing here?

I don’t belong here.”

A pair of eyes fell upon you in amazement, a pair that never made eye contact with anyone until that very moment. Your eyes settled on them in return. The world seemed to stand still.

“I don’t care if it hurts

I wanna have control

I wanna a perfect body

I wanna a perfect soul”

They were Bucky’s.

“But I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo

What the hell am I doing here?

I don’t belong here.”

His face lit up as he watched you, entranced with every movement you made. Steve realized what was happening and smiled, for this was the first time Bucky had even come close to making a connection to anyone besides himself. Buck had just moved into the tower around the same time you had and was having a difficult time opening up to the rest of the team. He was quiet most of the time and kept to himself, never making eye contact for more than a few seconds at a time.

“She’s running out again,

She’s running out.”

Steve elbowed Sam who was sitting next to him and nodded towards Bucky, the team’s attention shifted from you too now Bucky who was intensely watching you.

“Whatever makes you happy,

Whatever you want.”

The music faded away, and the world began spinning once more. Voices hummed across a sea of people as you came down from your high. Making your way off stage you found yourself in the arms of Wanda and Natasha who cooed over you and your performance.

“That was absolutely amazing (Y/N)!!” Wanda pulled you tighter.

“I knew you could sing, but like THAT!!” Natasha handed you a drink as Bruce poked his head from out behind her.

“I think we all were surprised to have such a songbird among us.” He pulled you in for a hug. You peeked over his shoulder trying to find Bucky’s face in the crowd of people but he had disappeared.

Weeks passed, and it had seemed like Bucky was definitely avoiding you. Every time you entered a room he conveniently seemed to be leaving. One morning at dinner he passed you on his way out of the door a slice of pizza in his hand. You mentioned something to Steve.

“What’s wrong with Buck? Is he okay?” You asked inquisitively.

“What isn’t wrong with Buck.” Sam chimed in. That one earned him a swift punch in the shoulder by Steve who was standing next to him.

“I don’t know (Y/N) he has been acting weird all week.” Steve gave you a concerned look.

“He is probably on his man period.” Sam quickly added before shoving you in between himself and Steve to block any more punches coming his way

You this time, punched Sam in the shoulder and stole the slice of pizza in his hands taking a quick bite out of it.

“Hey, I was going to eat that!”

“Not anymore you’re not. That’s what you get for being a jerk Pigeon boy.” You took your pizza and walked back to the lab defeated, you could hear Steve chuckling behind you.

Your singing echoed through the halls of the tower as Steve made his way back from the kitchen a few hours later to stumble upon his best friend sitting outside the door to the lab. Bucky eyes were close as his head rested against the wall.

“Listening to her sing again?” Bucky nodded, eyes still closed tightly. “Are you ever going to actually go in there and talk to her? You can’t avoid her for the rest of your life, Buck.”

Bucky sighed. “I know.”

Steve sat down beside him. “All my life and I have never seen you afraid to talk to a girl.”

He looked at Steve. “What if she sees me as the monster I am?”

“Buck, (Y/N) isn’t like that. She is the sweetest, most accepting person I have ever known. Don’t worry. Just go talk to her.” He patted his friend on the shoulder and Bucky gave him a quick smile before getting up and walking down the hallway.

The next day you hear a soft knock on your lab door, you looked up to see Bucky anxiously looking at you.

“Hey Bucky, what can I do for you?” You gave him a reassuring smile.

“Oh hey (Y/N), I just got back from a mission and I.. uhhh I busted my arm. Could you take a look?”

“Of course. Take a seat” You motioned over to the chair next to your workstation.

He sat down cautiously, putting out his metal arm for you to inspect. He flinched as your fingers grazed the cool vibranium.

“It’s okay, I won’t hurt you.” You looked up at him through your lashes.

“It’s not me I am worried about.” He bit his lip.

You softly began to sing if in some way that would comfort him. He eased up. You opened the hatch in his arm and began maneuvering wires as the words flowed gracefully from your mouth.

“I want you to notice

When I’m not around

You’re so very special

I wish I was special”

You heard someone walk in, you were interrupted by a man clearing his throat.

“Looks like lover boy finally decided to come in the lab after all! Got tired of sitting outside the door all week?” Tony smiled as he walked to his desk.

You looked at both of them confused.

“I like listening to you sing.” Mortified, Bucky hid his face in his hands.

You pulled his hands from his face and held them in yours. “Buck, you could have just come in, but whatever makes you happy sweetheart.”

You kissed his cheek and continued sing as you finished your work on his arm. Smiles both spread across your faces.

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