Summary: You and Bucky Barnes have been friends for years. You are deeply, completely, in love with the super soldier, but he sees you as nothing more than a little sister. What happens when Bucky starts to date in earnest?
The idea of mad! Flug came from that beauty! Try checking out their blog before reading! :D
“Flug!!” Snarled the annoyed voice.
The anxious scientist made his way towards his boss, tripping on his feet along the way.
“S-sorry sir! W-what is-” Dr. Flug pauses midsentence to gasp. There in Black Hat’s arms was a knocked out super hero. A wide grin stretches across the scientist’s hidden face.
“We’ve brought in another one. 5.0.5 managed to grab him after destroying half the city. The hero knocked right out after he was used as a chew toy.” Sneered Black Hat. The demon dropped the hero to Dr. Flug’s feet.
“Do… Whatever you do with those heroes. I’m surprised you manage to keep them quiet wherever you put them.” Muttered Black Hat, walking off. As soon as he laid his eyes on the unconscious hero, a million thoughts ran through his head on what he’d do. Flug immediately began dragging the body away. Dragging the body was easy for him, picking it or lifting it up long distances was another. He could only pick them up short distances. Enough to make it from the lab to a trash can out back that later burned trash periodically. I mean, what else was he gonna do with corpses? Leave them to rot and stink? He was evil, but he was not trashy, no. Flug dragged the body into the lab, and behind his desk. He glanced around, making sure he wasn’t followed. As soon as he saw the coast was clear he opened a small patch on the floor, tossing the body down, before climbing down himself. The room was dark, dimly lit by a light in the middle of the room, which shined above a glass dome over a large pit. Where Flug kept heroes to rot. He tossed the hero he had been given into the pit from a small opening in the dome before sealing it shut as he always did. He studied the hero, mumbling noted out loud.
“Hero appears to be.. Cumulus. Abilities include controlling the amount of water in the air along with weather to a small extent.” He searches around the table he had beside the pit, finding a needle beside a multitude of blood samples from different heroes from the past. He tied a small cord around his body before hopping down into the pit holding a remote and a small needle. He gets on his knees beside the sleeping hero, poking her skin with the small sharp object. As he did this, the hero squirmed with discomfort.
“Hey! Hey. Hey, sshh. It’s all fine. Doc just needs a bit of blood is all. Then we can poke you and cut you and potentially zap you until you make your way to the little gates down below!” Dr. Flug giggled softly. His voice wad smooth as silk and clear as day a polar opposite to him outside the room. He pulls the needle away, with a considerable amount of blood in the needle, the blood a grayish hue. He sighs, getting up. “Too bad too. You were such a cool hero.” Dr. Flug sighs.
As he begins walking back, the hero shoots up with loud gasp, snapping her neck towards the villain.
“you.” She spat. “Where am I!?” She raises her hand, shards of ice forming in the air at rapid speed as Flug presses a button on the remote. As the shards fly towards him, the rope around his waist pulls him swiftly out of the pit, missing the shards just barely! He slams the pit’s opening shut and giggled frantically.
“Hahaha! You almost got me there you little hero, you!!” Dr. Flug cackles. The hero stands up. “where am I!? Let me go you bastard!!” She snarls. Dr. Flug ignored her, setting the blood sample inside a vial labeled the hero’s name, setting it right along side others.
“interesting note to add! Not only can you affect the water levels in the air, you can also change temperature as well! You’re blood could make a great freeze ray!! Ohh, how exciting!” He grins.
“Let. Me. OUT!!” Roared Cumulus, shooting a multitude of ice shards at the ice. The loud thud of the ice’s impact against the seal made Flug jump with surprise. “it’s no use doll!! Impenetrable!” Sang Dr. Flug. Cumulus snarls. “So- so what!? You gonna test me? You gonna torture me? Brain wash me? Control me!?” The hero growls out. Flug taps his chin. “you know. Giving the villain, the person with the upper hand, options is not a good move. However! I will happily accept torture!!” Cheered Flug. He presses a button on the table and arms flung out the side of the pit, grabbing the hero’s arms and legs. Flug hops down yet again with the remote, walking up to the hero who’s now unable to move. She squirms and tugs at the arms trying to break free, alas it was no use. Dr. Flug walks up to her, reaching his hand out. The girl immediately flinched making Flug laugh. He lightly grabs her chin, looking closely at her face. The girl shakes her head, snapping forward to bite his fingers. “You won’t get shit out of me.” She spat. Dr. Flug chuckles slowly, his laugh chilling and dark, unlike his normal self. “Oh sweetie. What do you think I’m torturing you for? Go on. Guess.” He eggs her on.
“Info? Weaknesses? Any villain would be stupid not to want that.” She scoffs. “Not necessarily now! A smart villain tortures for info because he lacks it without others to give him the info. A GOOD villain tortures for fun because he already has all the info he needs.” Dr. Flug grins.
“What? So you’re torturing me without reason? How stupid!” Cumulus cackles.
“See now you’re learning! Evading me from my true goals! Good! Good! But you know, the thing is. When you have a reason, once that reason is reached, you no longer have a reason to hurt! Its a stopping point for pain. A way out for heroes,”
He grips her chin rougher than before, making her unable to shake him off, “See, I don’t want that way out for you. You’re trapped here. No matter. What. You. Do!” Dr. Flug spins himself, harshly kicking her dead in the face making Cumulus let out a choked roar in pain. Flug spins back around to face her, punching her on the opposite side of her face, knocking out a tooth. She spits blood onto the doctor. “Fuck. You.” She pants. “Aww! No thanks.” He hissed, running back and kicking her in the stomach. She yells scratchily, doubling over in pain, gasping for air as she hack up blood. Her body falls weak. She’d have fallen on all fours had if not been for the arms holding her in place. Flug punched her face upward, staring her dead in the eye.
“Go on now. Do something about this. Drown me, freeze me, stab me with a weak little shard!” Dr. Flug teased.
She growls and Dr. Flug bounced out of the way and as he looks away the hero lets out a scream as he hears the sound of sharpness puncturing flesh. He spins around on his heel seeing she had accidentally stabbed her self in the stomach with her own ice shard. “Ohh! That works EVERY time! You heroes are SO gullible!” Dr. Flug smiles. She feels blood dripping from the ice. “S-so you gonna k-kill me huh?” Cumulus coughed. “Damn. Here I though I’d die by a successful villain.” She chuckles weakly. “Oh but honey. I am a successful villain. The disappearance of Unit, Mr Frost, Jubilee, oh what’s his name uhh, Storm clock? Yeah that’s it.” Dr. Flug lists. “Pfft. Idiot. Everyone knows it was Black Hat who killed them.” Cumulus scoffs. Dr. Flug stiffens, before walking closer. He put his hand on the ice shard, pushing it inward making her scream. “He. Did. NOT. A good villain does not boast. A good villain. Does not get caught. A good villain. Is not. That fucking. DEMON!!” Dr. Flug roars. He clicks another button on his remote, tossing it in the air. The metal shifts and reforms and by the time it hits Dr. Flug’s palm, it’s already a destabilizer ray.
“Black Hat. Is no. Villain. He is just a cocky. Arrogant. Self absorbed. Fuck.” Flug growls past gritted teeth. Cumulus grins. “Damn. You must really hate him.” She sighs. “Yeah well he pays the money and brings in the heroes like you I get to play with.” Flug sighs, twiddling with the ray in his hand. “So. What are you gonna-” “God damn it. All this Black Hat talk has ruined the mood. You’re not fun anymore.” He pouts. He repositions his body, shooting the hero straight in the head, blood splattering across Dr. Flug’s bag and the ground. He sighs, as the arms around the girl let go and retract into the walls letting the hero’s body fall limp on the floor with a loud thud. Flug shakes his head. “These new toys get worse and worse.” Flug sighs. He digs out a key from his pockets, unlocking a hatch on the wall before dumping the hero’s dead body into the chute to slide out into the garbage. He switched his ray back into the remote, pulling himself out the pit without a care. He showed no pity, no remorse. Like a good villain. He switched out his clothes and bag for a cleaner pair before turning to head back up. As he turns, he stops dead in his tracks, staring at a wide-eyed, trembling, whimpering Dementia. Flug sighs. “How much did you see you little cretin?” He snarls. Dementia’s voice was barely above a whisper. “a-all..” She whispers. Dr. Flug shakes his head, walking up to Dementia. He switches his remote to the ray, the device making an intimidating hum as he slowly held it up under Dementia’s chin, raising her head up making her whimper with fear. “You do not speak. Of what you saw in this room. Black Hat does not know and he never will. Understood.” Dr. Flug growls. “Y-yes.” She whispers. Dr. Flug puts away the ray, patting her head. “Good pet.” He says calmly. As he walks to leave Dementia halts him. “W-wait! I-I just have one question.” She stutters out. Dr. Flug turns around, tilting his head. “why don’t you ever act like this in front of the rest? Wouldn’t black hat.. Y'know. Like it?” She asks. Flug shakes his head.
“If a person has a double life, it is to protect the people in the primary life. People have faces. Different ways to act under different situations. No one is sane when no one is looking, Dementia. Besides. Don’t you think if I acted this way for you all, I would have shot that demon in the head by now?” Dr. Flug replies. “Come now. You have your jobs and I have mine.” He smiles. They get out of the room, and Flug shuts the door against the floor. As soon they get out, they hear black hat aggressively calling out for Flug.
“FLUG!! WHERE THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU!??” he screeches. Flug sighs, looking over at the scarred girl beside him.
“remember. No telling~.” He winks. He takes a deep breathe before running for the door. “C-coming boss! O-oh gosh!!” He calls out, flustered.
Prompt: 44 and 45 from this list: “what you did was stupid” and “no. you listen.”
Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader
Summary: y/n and Peter are close friends, and she knows all about his crime-fighting persona. He always tells her before he goes off to fight the bad guys, but when he doesn’t reply after several days before showing up out of the blue, she is understandably upset.
y/n’s mother was beginning to pick up on her odd behavior, but she didn’t care. All she could think about was Peter’s bruised and battered body, laying in an abandoned alley somewhere. She didn’t care that she sent endless texts. He always told her where he was and whether he had won. So surely something had gone wrong.
As the sun set on the fourth day since Peter had vanished, y/n was beginning to loose hope. She was seriously debating phoning the police, but how ridiculous would that sound? “Hello, yeah, my very good friend Spider-Man might be in trouble!” She just didn’t know what to do.
At midnight, her eyelids finally began to feel heavy. Maybe he’ll have texted me back in the morning, she thought sleepily.
If your still taking writing requests, could you do “Your wound reopened, didn’t it?” With Damian and Jason please?
Jason and Damian are both so terrible at showing they care. And looking after themselves…
Enjoy, anon! I hope this is something like what you were looking for :)
The funny thing is, it doesn’t even happen on patrol. Well, not an offical patrol. Batman is out of town on League business and Damian isn’t allowed to patrol without appropriate supervision - which apparently just means Nightwing, who is busy in Bludhaven - but that’s never stopped him before. Alfred had taken the Robin suit as a precaution against him sneaking out on his own, so when Damian had inevitably snuck out he’d had to do it in dark civvies instead.
Everything is going relatively well until he drops in to give the Red Hood a hand taking down a gang. Without the Kevlar protection of his suit, a glancing slash from a knife slices through the fabric of his hoodie and the flesh beneath instead of bouncing harmlessly off armour. He doesn’t notice it at first, too absorbed in taking down the thug (un)lucky enough to get him. It’s only once the fight is over and the adrenaline fades that the injury hits him, pain radiating from his side like fire. He groans and Hood is immediately looming over him.
“Where are you hit?” he demands. Then, “Wait, no, first - what the fuck are you even doing here? Isn’t it passed your bedtime?”
“Robin doesn’t have a bedtime,” Damian snaps, pressing his hand against his side. It comes away glistening red.
Red Hood snorts. “You don’t look much like Robin right now.” He kneels down to inspect Damian’s side himself, tearing the black hoodie even more so he can peel it away from the edges of the wound. He winces. “B is going to fucking kill me.”
Damian tries to peer at the cut himself, but it’s too dark in the alley to properly asses the damage from his angle. “You can’t tell Father,” he says, trying for authoritative but coming out borderline pleading. “He’s busy, he doesn’t need to worry about a minor injury.” And I don’t want him to take Robin away.
“Minor?” Todd’s voice rises with incredulity, hovering over the side of his helmet where Damian knows the button to activate his comm link is. “That’s gonna need at least a dozen stitches. And I’m not calling Daddy Bats, anyway, I’m calling Alfred.”
Damian grabs his arm desperately, gasping when it causes a new wave of pain to lance through his side. “No! Please, you can’t!”
“Woah, calm down.” Hood grabs his shoulders to hold him still. “Jesus Christ, kid, you’re going to make that worse.”
“You can’t tell them,” Damian says again, prepared to sound as much like a broken record as it takes to wear Todd down.
The older vigilante hesitates, then sighs. “Fine. Whatever. They’d probably blame me anyway.” They wouldn’t, but Damian doesn’t bother arguing the point. “Come on, I have a safe house a couple of blocks away. I’ll stitch you up then you can go home and attempt to lie to Alfred yourself. Just don’t involve me.”
When Damian’s alarm wakes him at six-thirty the next morning he wants nothing more than to put his pillow over his head and go back to sleep. But that would be suspicious. So he carefully rolls out of bed, takes another dose of ibuprofen and stumbles into the bathroom to shower.
By the time he gets down to breakfast, the painkillers have kicked in and the shower has sufficiently woken him up so that he’s acting close enough to normal not to draw Pennyworth’s attention. He eats mechanically, then retreats back upstairs until Pennyworth calls for him.
“Don’t drag your feet, Master Damian, it will only make you late for school, it won’t make it go away,” the butler says, mistaking Damian’s slow movements as he comes back downstairs with his backpack for reluctance. He scowls and walks even slower, grabbing onto the excuse of a bad attitude with fervour. In the car, he sits stiffly in the backseat and stares out the window, eager for their arrival so he can escape Pennyworth’s scrutiny, but dreading the school day ahead.
It’s all going relatively well until the end of lunchtime. Damian is headed back to his locker to retrieve the books he needs for the final classes of the day when he makes a mistake. A few boys from two grade above him are bullying a younger kid, pushing him around and laughing as they go through his backpack. And Damian gets involved.
He can’t not get involved.
It’s a short fight. One which ends when one of the older boys whacks Damian in the side with a textbook and he doubles over, gasping through the sudden onslaught of pain. The bullies laugh and call him names, getting in a few more hits for good measure before taking off down the now-empty hallway.
Slowly, Damian forces himself to straighten up and collect his books. If he’s late to class Ms Carlisle will give him a detention without care for any excuses he could come up with. And he doesn’t need Father to be even more disappointed in his school performance.
It’s just a bit of pain. Nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. He can make it to the end of the day.
Damian realises he’s in trouble about half-way through fifth period. The pulsing pain in his side is distracting enough on its own, but when he chances a glance beneath his blazer, he finds that the right side of his white shirt is starting to stain red over his wound. It’s not bleeding quickly, but it is bleeding. And that is a Major Problem.
“Damian?” Maps leans over toward him while the teacher’s writing on the board. Usually Damian is thankful to have a friend in his class, but today he just wishes to be left alone. “Are you okay? You look kinda pale.”
“I’m fine,” Damian replies stiffly, pressing his arm tightly against his side. It hurts more, but the pressure might help stem the slowly oozing blood.
Maps clearly doesn’t believe him, but Ms Carlisle turns back around to address the class before she can push the issue. Damian has never been more grateful for strict teachers with droning voices because it means he can zone out in peace until the bell ringing startles him back into awareness. Kids are already trickling out of the classroom and Damian joins the back of the mob, keeping close to the wall and trying to avoid the passing bags and limbs which bump his side until he can duck into the closest bathroom.
He fumbles his phone out of his pocket as soon as he’s in the relative privacy of one of the toilet stalls. Even if he had the necessary materials, the wound is at an angle that would be too hard to stitch back up himself. As loathe as he is to admit it, he’s going to need help.
Todd answers with a curt, “Aren’t you supposed to be in school, short fry?”
Damian takes a deep, calming breath to overcome the irritation the nickname stirs up before admitting, “I need your help.
There’s a beat of silence then Todd sighs. ”Your wound reopened, didn’t it?“
“Can you pick me up?” Damian asks instead of answering what is clearly a rhetorical question.
The older boy grumbles but he promises to pick him up about a block from the school in twenty minutes.
Damian feels obtrusive loitering on the sidewalk in his Gotham Academy blazer, but he can hardly take it off with his shirt in the state it is. When Todd finally shows up he’s driving an old red Nissan instead of the usual motorcycle. Damian slides carefully into the passenger seat with a quiet sigh, tipping his head back and staring out the window as they merge back onto the road.
Damian glances away from the traffic. “Well what?”
“How bad is it?” Todd asks.
“Oh.” He pulls the blazer away from his side to reveal the growing patch of red.
“Uh. It’s not that bad.”
Todd glances down at the wound then swears, eyes snapping up to glare at Damian before refocusing on driving when a horn blares loudly behind them.
“How the fuck did you manage that sitting in a classroom?”
“It didn’t happen in a classroom,” Damian snaps. “And it wasn’t my fault.”
“Of course it wasn’t,” Todd mutters. He flicks on his indicator to move into the right lane and it’s only then that Damian realises they’re heading out of the city.
“Where are we going?” he asks suspiciously.
“Take a wild guess.”
“You promised you wouldn’t!” Damian accuses, because between the direction they’re travelling and Todd’s tight grip on the steering wheel it’s not hard to figure it out.
Todd rolls his eyes. “Welcome to the real world, kid, where promises mean jack shit,” he snaps. But a second later his lips twist in a grimace and when he glances over his eyes are almost apologetic. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? But if you’ve done more damage to that wound, I’m so not qualified to fix it. Alfred would'a caught on eventually anyway - if he hasn’t already. Just think of it as… delaying the inevitable.”
Damian crosses his arms and sulks the whole drive back to the Manor. He’d gone to Todd for help in confidence and this is how he’s replayed for his trust? He clenches his teeth, mouth stretching in a silent snarl. See if he ever helped the Red Hood again!
(Five weeks later, Red Hood drops in on a fight that Robin is notlosing thank you very much. He gets a bullet graze on his thigh for his troubles. Damian makes sure to ignore his bitching with extreme obnoxiousness as he drags him back to the Cave to be stitched up. Todd glares at him as Alfred stitches the injury. Damian just smirks.)
Summary: You are the sister of Charles Xavier. You are part of the Avengers and dating Bucky Barnes. Unbeknownst to you Bucky is having an affair with Natasha. When you catch them in the act, things go downhill from there. You are a Mutant with similar powers to Jean, only with Immortality thrown in.
Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Bucky X Natasha, Logan Howlett X Reader
Warnings: Angst, Violence, Cheating, Feelings of worthlessness, Depression.
Roaming the halls in search of Steve and the rest of the team, you sense her before you see her.
“Come out, Natalia,” you sneer.
She materializes out of a dark corner, her trademark smirk on her face. “(Y/N),” she greets.
“What do you want?” you demand.
“I want him,” she answers simply. “You are in the way.”
You groan inwardly. How could a woman who was touted as the world’s greatest spy be so damn dense?
“You are clearly unstable, (Y/N).I won’t let you destroy him,” she emphasizes the last part as she lunges at you.
Sighing, you stop her mid attack with nothing more than the flick of your wrist. “Honestly, I am so fucking done with the lot of you,” you say tiredly, rubbing at your eyes as she flails around in mid air. “If you want him so bad, go get him.”
Logan’s voice rumbles behind you, sending you jumping nearly a foot in the air. Whirling around, a protesting Natasha forgotten momentarily you yell, “Jesus!” while clutching at your chest. “Why is everyone sneaking up on me today?”
Logan chuckles wryly. “What’s up with the floating broad?”
You snicker softly. “She thought she could attack me. I decided to prove her wrong.”
He sighs out your name. “Put her down,” he orders, grabbing you by the waist, and pulling you to his chest. “I have a better idea for how you could use your powers, and they don’t include no dumbass redhead,” he growls into your ear, lowering his voice to whisper incredibly naughty suggestions.
Giggling softly, surprised by his action, you set Natasha down on the floor. Turning toward her, you smile a full baring of teeth. “Come at me again and I will smack seven kinds of snot out of you. If he wants to be with you, he will tell you. Trying to get rid of me is not going to help your case.” You walk away hand in hand with Logan, leaving a terrified Natasha to contemplate your parting words.
“You alrigh?” Logan asks as he leads you toward the common room.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just want to go home. I should never have come back here,” you answer truthfully.
He nods. Taking a deep breath he says, “Hey, I really wanted to talk to ya about-”
He’s cut off mid sentence as alarms start to blare in the compound. F.R.I.D.A.Y informs you that you that the compound is under attack.
“We have to find the others!” you yell over the screaming sirens. Pulling Logan along the hallway, you try to detect any kind of foreign minds.
Rounding the corner, you run into a stray Hydra agent. Reflexively aiming a punch at his throat, he doubles over gasping for air. You follow it up with a knee to the solar plexus while simultaneously bringing your elbow down onto the crown of his head. He crumples to the floor. You have no idea if he’s dead or not.
Logan grunts his approval, claws out. The Wolverine taking over, he takes a defensive stance as approaching footsteps catch you attention. You form a ball of power, ready to hurl it at the person who’s unlucky enough to round the corner. When that person just happens to be Bucky, you sigh in relief as he scans you both.
“We good?” he calls
“All good,” Logan replies as the three of you hurry toward Tony’s lab.
“How did they get in?” you wonder out loud.
“I wish I fuckin knew,” Bucky replies ushering you into the elevator.
Logan growls slightly as Bucky’s hand makes contact with your lower back. You send him a warning glare, and he looks momentarily sheepish. It fades quickly, replaced with his usual confident swagger as he steps in after you. The ride up is silent, tension thick and uncomfortable. You practically sprint out when the elevator stops at the correct floor, scanning briefly for hostile forces.
Finding none you enter the lab where the Avengers team is gathered, looking slightly worse for wear. You quirk a brow at a grumbling Tony.
“Well, this looks cozy,” you quip.
The corner of his mouth lifts slightly. “What can I say, darling? There ain’t no party like a couple of Hydra agents trying to murder you while you try and upgrade your suits,” he remarks dryly.
You chuckle briefly. It’s such a Stark thing to say. “Are they taken care of?”
Steve snorts, bruised and bloodied, from the corner. “All of them who got in were taken out, but that doesn’t mean they won’t try again,” he says, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
You can’t tell whether his discomfort is pain related, or because you freaked him out so badly, or if it’s the tension radiating between Bucky and Logan that’s making him uncomfortable.
“They really have a hard on for you and the tin can,” Tony remarks thoughtfully, drawing your attention off Steve.
Logan bares his teeth snarling, “Over my dead fuckin’ body!” His claws make an involuntarily reappearance.
“Alright, wolf man. Calm your shit. We can sort this out,” Tony quips.
You make a disapproving noise at Tony’s blasé attitude. He looks momentarily guilty before winking at you. You roll your eyes at the billionaire’s antics.
Clapping your hands together you cheerfully say, “Well, I guess we’ll just have to take them out first.” The entire room regards you skeptically.
Bucky, being the first to pipe up, asks sarcastically, “And how do you expect to do that?”
You turn and give Logan a predatory smile, one which makes him wince.
“Ah hell,” he mutters before reaching for his phone. Dialing a number, he grumbles under his breath as it rings three times before Charles answers.
“Professor,” Logan drawls. “We got a problem… again.” He listens to Charles for a full ten seconds before saying, “Alright I’ll let them know.” He shuts off the phone and turns to regard Tony. “Ya better get the spare rooms ready, bub.”
Tony’s looks at him in mild panic.
Logan smirks, a cigar appearing from his pocket. He strikes a match and lights it, drawing in a long plume of smoke. He breathes it out and chuckles darkly. “The X-Men are coming.”
Hope flares in your chest. With a full team of X-Men and the entire Avengers Team in house, Hydra didn’t stand a chance.
Hi please think about this: Yuuri hides an awful chest cold from Viktor while he's away (on business, etc.) until it morphs into something really bad. Then eventually Yuuri calls him in the middle of the night all sobbing and teeth chattering and wheezing and scares Viktor into dropping everything to rush back and take him to a clinic.
I’m sorry this took so long!
Russian winters, Yuuri often found himself thinking, were not kind to him. The biting wind and freezing temperatures accompanied with seemingly constant snowfall was not panning out in his favor. His body was having trouble adjusting to it, and he found himself getting sick shortly after Viktor left for a week-long business trip three hours from their home.
But, he opted to not tell Viktor this because this business trip has had Viktor in a whirlwind of stress, and Yuuri did not want to add to that with his own ailments. So, he did his best to sound chipper on the phone with Viktor despite feeling anything but.
It hadn’t started out all that bad; it seemed to be simply a chest cold– nothing he couldn’t handle on his own. He took the necessary precautions; he went to get cough medicine and fever reducers, just in case, and he spent a lot of his time in bed resting. However, he wasn’t getting better– the opposite actually. He was getting worse, way worse.
The cough medicine was doing nothing to alleviate the constant coughing fits that left him doubled over and gasping for breath. He was freezing despite the heat being turned up way higher than usual, and he was neglecting eating and drinking in favor of staying curled up on the bed under every blanket he and Viktor owned. And he was tired, so very tired. Despite almost constant sleeping, he felt exhausted.
But, still, he didn’t tell Viktor, but luckily, Viktor seemed distracted on some of their more recent phone calls, so Yuuri didn’t have to try hard in hiding how he was feeling.
However, four days in, and Yuuri was absolutely miserable. He couldn’t stop shivering, his head was pounding, but most concerning, there was a stabbing pain in his chest that was forcing him to breathe in short, choppy breaths. Any attempt at breathing deeply left him hunched over and clutching at his tightening chest as strong forceful coughs tore up his throat.
He was getting scared, and he just wanted Viktor. He was only half-aware of the time being 3:14 am when he pressed Viktor’s speed dial number.
Viktor’s voice was thick with sleep, but there was a strong hint of concern, and that was all it took. Yuuri let out a strangled sob that left him coughing hard and grabbing at his tightening throat.
“Yuuri! What’s wrong? Are you alright?”
His heart was hammering against his chest. “N-no,” he wheezed out, teeth chattering hard as chills coursed through his body. He felt like ice, but his chest felt hot and tight.
“Okay, Yuuri. Hang on. I’m coming, okay?”
“K-kay,” Yuuri chattered, setting the phone down when he heard the soft click indicating that Viktor hung up. He curled himself into a tight ball, squeezing his eyes shut as the room began to spin. Tears were still pouring from his eyes, but he was able to drift off to sleep knowing that Viktor was coming.
Yuuri was jolted awake what felt like only moments later by a hand shaking his shoulder.
“Yuuri, please wake up!”
His eyes snapped open, and he shot up into a sitting position as a forceful coughing fit took over that had his eyes welling.
“Okay, Yuuri. Just try and breathe, please.”
Viktor! Yuuri looked up, and despite his blurring vision, he could make out Viktor’s soft, worried face. “Viktor,” he breathed out, collapsing against his fiance as every single ounce of energy drained from his body.
“Yuuri,” Viktor murmured, voice laced with concern. “You’re burning.”
Yuuri wanted to argue that he was freezing actually, but he simply nodded against Viktor’s neck. He could feel himself drifting once more, and he vaguely heard something about going to a clinic before everything went dark.
“I’m never leaving you alone again,” Viktor grumbled as he helped Yuuri back into bed.
Yuuri couldn’t remember much. He remembered waking up to Viktor, and after that, everything was dark until he woke up in a hospital being and was diagnosed with pneumonia. Everything past that was a whirlwind of sleeping, coughing, shivering, then finally, feeling well enough to be discharged two days later. Viktor had been oddly quiet the whole time, and Yuuri had been waiting for the right to question his fiance about it.
“Are you okay?” He asked as Viktor tucked the blankets around him.
Viktor laughed, though, there was no heart to it. He slumped down onto the edge of the bed beside Yuuri, taking the brunet’s hand.
Yuuri frowned at the slight tremor in Viktor’s hand. “Viktor-”
“You scared me, Yuuri.” Viktor whispered, brushing his thumb along Yuuri’s hand but not meeting Yuuri’s wide, worried eyes. “I thought I was going to lose you.”
Yuuri brought Viktor’s hand to his lips, kissing it tenderly. “I’m sorry, Viktor. I didn’t think it would get that bad.”
Viktor turned until he was facing Yuuri. “But you need to tell me these things, Yuuri! I would have never went had I known you were feeling unwell!”
Yuuri winced, dropping Viktor’s hand. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, voice barely above a whisper.
Viktor’s face fell, and he cupped Yuuri’s warm cheek. “No, I’m sorry. I’m not angry. I’m just worried about you.”
Yuuri’s eyes began to water, and his voice caught in his throat. He nodded.
“But, I’m here now, and I’m going to take care of you, okay?” Viktor brushed away a tear that slid down Yuuri’s cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Yuuri nodded once more with a soft smile, feeling a warmth within his body that he hadn’t felt in days.
It’s so warm here and the air is so sweet and summery that I just got to overwhelming urge to write a lil fic! And since it’s Easter I thought what better than an Easter lil fic as a surprise for you kiddos? :D This is 100% fluffy, which, if you know me at all, you know is super rare, so enjoy it, bbys! And thank you, my dear Anon, for the request! I hope you like it! :) <333 (Read other lil fics here)
“You’ve been smiling for the entire meal, mon ami,” Laf said with a smirk as he and Alexander cleared the table after another Easter dinner with their adoptive parents, the Washingtons.
Alex tried to hide his face as he felt it becoming hotter. “Was not,” he mumbled weakly.
Lafayette just laughed in response.
“Thanks for helping, boys,” Martha said as the two placed the last stack of dirty dishes in the sink. “Gilbert, can you see if Grammy and Poppy want coffee?”
“Oui, Mama,” he said. He cocked an eyebrow at Alexander before he left the kitchen, letting his younger brother know they were not through with their discussion.
Alex internally groaned. He knew he’d had that goofy grin on his face for the entire dinner, but it wasn’t his fault. John Laurens, his best friend, his crush of the past two years, had texted him something adorable right before it was time to sit down for Easter dinner. Alexander wasn’t to blame if the words kept reappearing in his mind, causing that silly smile to overtake his face again and again. He was grateful his grandmother had poor vision because if she saw him smiling like that, well, she was even worse than Laf with the questions and knowing glances.
“Can you dry for me, Alex?” Martha unknowingly snapped him out of his reverie.
“Sure.” He grabbed the dish towel off of the counter and began drying some silverware Martha had just cleaned.
His mind wandered back to the text, or, rather, the entire conversation between the two of them. He had it memorized by now. He was certain every word, every punctuation mark, was seared into his brain permanently.
Alexander: Happy Easter, J-Lau :)
John Laurens: Happy Easter, Ham Man :) John Laurens: U got plans?
Alexander: Just the usual. Dinner w/ my grandparents. Alexander: You?
John Laurens: well we just got back from church and now we’re getting ready to go to my aunt’s for dinner
Alexander: that sounds nice!
John Laurens: eh. If you think church is religious, you should meet my aunt. She’s like a walking cathedral I swear to god John Laurens: I don’t wanna go :(
Alexander: :((( if you could do anything for Easter what would it be?
John Laurens: hmmmmm John Laurens: I would come over to your place
Alexander: :D what would you wanna do?
Alexander had to admit–– he’d assumed John would say something benign, like dye Easter eggs, or watch Disney movies, or just have dinner with Alex’s family; the kind of stuff they always did together because they were friends and that’s what friends do.
John Laurens: I would give you a plastic Easter egg John Laurens: with a note inside
Alex knew something was up. John was mischievous, but this? This was… different. His fingers shook ever so slightly as he thumbed out his reply.
Alexander: what would the note say?
The moment between when he hit send and when his phone buzzed again was tortuous. Just before it vibrated he’d heard car doors slamming shut in the driveway–– his grandparents had arrived and he needed to get off his phone, but he also needed John’s response.
He desperately opened the text, his breath stopping, trapped in his throat, his lungs, as he read what John had written.
John Laurens: it would say “kiss me”
All Alexander could do was stare at the text. He stared and stared and stared. He stared as he heard his grandparents enter the house, and he stared as he heard Lafayette’s bubbly voice greet them. He stared as he heard George call for him.
John Laurens: shit John Laurens: I’m sorry for being weird shit shit shit John Laurens: any chance you could forget I ever said that?
Alex heard George call for him again. He replied as quickly as possible before pocketing his phone.
Alexander: no Alexander: you would have to come over here and make me Alexander: ;)
As he descended the stairs to greet his grandparents, his phone vibrated. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen.
John Laurens: then I’ll see you later tonight John Laurens: with an Easter egg
And that was why Alexander Hamilton absolutely could not stop smiling throughout all of Easter dinner, or even now, as he dried dish after dish for Martha.
When the doorbell rang, his heart actually stopped beating for a millisecond.
“Alexander!” Laf called from the other room. “It’s Laurens!”
Alex froze, dish towel and pot in hand. Martha put a hand on Alex’s shoulder.
“Go ahead, Alex,” she said with a knowing smile.
How does Laf tell everyone so fast? he wondered as he nodded and walked toward the door. It was only when he got to the door that he realized he was still holding the towel and pot. He stuffed the towel in the pot and opened the door.
John Laurens was standing on the front step, a single pink plastic Easter egg in hand. He stared into Alex’s eyes for a moment before popping it open and holding it out. Alex pulled a small piece of paper from the egg. His hand was trembling so much he almost couldn’t read it.
But he could, and there was no denying the two words written in John’s scrawl: Kiss me?
Alexander looked up at John and saw the fear and anticipation in his best friend’s eyes that he was certain mirrored his own. Without another thought, he shut his eyes and leaned in.
The moment when their lips met was cosmic. Alex swore stars were created as they kissed. When he finally pulled away, John Laurens was grinning and tears were streaking down his freckled face.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” John whispered.
Alex reached into the pot and grabbed the dish towel, using it to dot the tears off of John’s face.
“Alex?” John said.
“John?” Alex said.
“Why the fuck do you have a pot and dish towel?” He whispered.
Alexander burst into a fit of laughter so hard that he doubled over gasping for air. When he could finally breathe again, he also had tears running down his face, although for a different reason.
John rolled his eyes and smiled as he took the dish towel from Alex and patted his face dry, as well. And then he leaned in and kissed him again and everything felt right. Alex felt parts deep inside of him light up that he never knew existed. Parts, he was sure, that existed only for John.
A whistle sounded from inside the house. “Oui oui, mes amis!” Laf hollered.
They broke apart and turned to face Laf. “You damn heckler,” John muttered.
Martha was standing behind Laf, smiling. “Grab a new dish towel when you come in, sweetie,” she said with a smile.
Alex blushed, and John laughed.
“So I guess I can do this with it then, huh?” John said as he held up the cloth and blocked their faces from Laf’s view. He kissed Alex again and again and again, and Alexander never wanted it to end.
This had been, without a doubt, the best Easter of his life.
A/N: Based on anon request: What if reader gets injured or sick in some way and Bones has to treat them but he’s mad that they’re hurt (because he hates to see them hurt) and he’s kind of rude about it? And reader is anxious and doesn’t like doctors/being yelled at and he goes to apologize after but reader isn’t ready to accept and says they need some time to think about it?? Surprisingly not as angsty as I originally intended, but I hope you still enjoy it!!
“Told you so,” Bones gloated, running a dermal regenerator over the burns of your hand.
“I wouldn't’ve gotten hurt if Keenser could’ve held his sneeze two more goddamn minutes,” you grumbled. “‘It’s the last time you’ll see me for a week. Promise.”
That thought raced through your head as your feet hit the concrete as you ran for your life through the dark and cold streets of New York. You could hear him. You could hear his profanities and yells but they got quieter as you got farther and farther away from that hell house. You needed to leave. You’d die if you stayed. You didn’t care about the clothes or the items you left behind, you just couldn’t be there anymore. You had to get as far away as possible. Just keep running, (Y/N).
You stopped at a bus stop, doubled over and gasping for breath. Your muscles ached and the bruisings and cuts screamed for you to stop moving. You can’t hear him anymore. You saw your breath come out in misty clouds in front of you. You felt cold water on the back of your neck. You felt in on your arms. You felt it on your scalp. Rain. Wonderful. You were going to die of hypothermia. You had to get somewhere safe before this drizzle turned into a downpour. You looked up and saw you were in front of an apartment building. Maybe someone here could house you for the night? You had about $50 in your pocket so that should be enough for just one night. Then you’re gonna get to your mom’s house in Albany. She’ll take you in, you know she will.
As you lurched forward towards the apartment building, you felt light headed and dizzy. Bile bubbled up into your mouth but you forced it back down. You forced yourself across the sidewalk and into the apartment building. It was surprisingly busy, but only because it was about seven or eight at night. You maneuvered your way through the crowd and slipped into the elevator undetected. You leaned against the wall as the elevator moved, making you wobble and shake. Then you stopped moving and the elevator’s doors opened. The group of adults all got out, forcing you to move. You stepped out of the elevator and followed most of the people down the hall and turned the left corner. You followed like a lost puppy then you started stalling behind and the hallway began to swirl and move. You felt sick and hazy. Your body shook and your muscles screamed in agony. Your eyes grew heavy and you ended up crashing into a door and slumping down to the floor. You tried to get back up but your body felt so heavy and black spots plagued your vision. With labored breaths, you sunk down to the floor and the world went black as your head hit the floor.
Lin had a rough day. Besides having to deal with his broken heater in his apartment, he had to do an all-day rehearsal for Hamilton. Most of the cast was sick or on vacation since it was mid-May and everyone wants to be somewhere that wasn’t sixty degrees all summer long. So, he decided to cancel the rehearsal and as he was getting home, he got a phone call from his lawyer and Lin needs to come in to go over the last few details on his divorce and who was getting custody over his son. And while Lin was on the phone, it began to rain. So here he was, standing in an empty elevator as water dripped from his hair and clothes. Could this day get any worse?
He stepped out of the elevator and strolled down the hallway. He stopped when his front door came into view. And also the girl who laid unconscious on his welcome mat. As Lin got closer, he could see the black and purple bruises, the dried blood on her skin and clothes, and the dirty cuts all over her arms and cheek. He never felt so confused in his life. Who was this girl? And where were her parents? Was she a runaway? An orphan? How did she get here?
But most importantly, was she still alive?
Lin stuffed his phone back into his pocket as he stopped in front of the girl. He kneeled down and watched you intently. His eyes were mainly on your chest, to see if it was moving. He sighed in relief when he saw your chest risen and fell as you breathed. Lin slipped one arm under your neck and one arm under your knees as you picked you up bridal style with ease. You were so skinny. Did you eat before you collapsed? The first thing you needed when you woke up was a bath and some food. He miraculously unlocked the door and opened it without dropping you. He closed the door with his foot and laid you on the couch. That’s when Lin was able to get a better look at you once he turned on all the lights.
You were shaking and sweating profusely. Your breathing was labored and you were covered in dirt, rain, bruises, and cuts. Lin placed his hand on your forehead. You were burning up. Your wet clothes didn’t help at all. Lin went into his room and came back with an old sweatshirt and some sweatpants. He stripped you of the hoodie, tank top, jeans, and shoes you wore and dressed you in the clean warm clothes. You stopped shaking somewhat but you were still burning up and you were all dirty. Maybe you needed some fluid? Lin went into the kitchen and brought back a cup of water. He held you by the shoulders and adjusted you into a sitting position. Lin held your head in place as he poured the water into your mouth. After a few moments, Lin pulled away and you began to cough and gasp. Your eyes cracked open and twitched as you came to your senses. Still half-asleep but also somewhat conscious, you turned your head slightly towards him.
“Hey…” He whispered as he brushed some hair out of your face and took your hand. “Can you understand me?” You nod weakly. “Okay, what’s your name?”
“(Y/N)….” You answered, half-conscious and your voice very quiet.
“(Y/N),” Lin repeated, smiling softly. “What happened to you?”
“Dad….” You murmured, your eyes closing but you’re trying to keep them open. “….not nice….. hits me… mom…Albany..”
Lin shooshed you and squeezed your hand. “That’s okay. I’ll ask you in the morning. You should sleep.” He helped you back into a laying position and pulled a fleece blanket over you and placed a couple pillows under your head. He patted your head. “Sweet dreams.” Before he turned off the lights and retired to his room.
First of all, I love you all so much you're amazing at what you do and inspire me so much. Thank you for this blog I have not lived before this. I'm not sure if this has been done before or not, but what if Claire found out she was pregnant before she fully realized her feelings for Jamie?
Leaning back against the nearest tree, Claire huffed out a large breath, her mind finally calming as the rage of being *abandoned* here with young Willie dissipated.
“Mistress…?” The young lad yelled, scratching the side of his head, displacing his cap as he hopped from foot to foot, nerves getting the better of him.
“Out with it, Willie,” Claire sighed, exasperated with the whole ordeal.
“I’m just going further into the woods, aye? To piss…” he trailed off, not needing to explain further as he awaited Claire’s approval.
“Go on then,” she replied, a terse tone to her voice, one that she couldn’t seem to eradicate no matter how hard she tried, “just make sure you go downwind!”
Nodding, the lad scarpered, the leaves around his feet flying to the sides in his haste to leave.
Flopping back against the tree, Claire swayed to and fro, her toes buried in the detritus at her feet as she gazed around her, her mind trying not to conjure up fresh images of the raiders in the glade.
Pushing herself up, she wandered the same stretch of forest over and over, her movements making a wee path in the mulch, her footprints embedding into the forest floor. Shaking the renewed anguish from her head, Claire’s eyes darted just passed the tree line.
There, just out of sight and hidden ever so slightly by the thick bark of the oak trees, lay a familiar outcrop.
“Craigh na Dunn….” she whispered, her heart beginning to race as she stepped forward slightly. The swishing of the leaves around her kept her grounded as she laid her hands against the bark of the last evergreen, digging her fingers into the thin trunk as the wind blew through her hair.
Having little time to think, Claire hiked up her skirts and made for the hill, the rough terrain hampering her footsteps only slightly as she darted through the open ground paying no mind to anything or anyone who might be passing by.
Images of Frank swirled before her eyes as her ankles buckled, the small dips in the grass causing her to lose balance more than once.
She had to make it up there.
The wind blew, rising around her as she forged her way onwards, not giving a thought to the highlanders she’s ceremoniously dumped, or whether they would be perturbed by her mysterious disappearance.
Beckoning her forwards, the stones seem to call to her, the brisk breeze making hollow screeching sounds the closer she came to the circle.
The sun dipped low on the horizon as she finally reached the brow of the small incline, the hum and whisper of the stones echoing loudly in her ears now.
Reaching her hands forwards, Claire slowed her pace, her heart thumping madly in her chest –partially from her sprint, but partially a build up of nervous energy.
Could she really do this?
Could she simply abandon Jamie without a second thought, without leaving him some simple sign that she hadn’t been abducted, hurt or even killed outright.
The attack in the glen hit her square in the chest, the memory of the rogue redcoats grasping hands causing her to shiver as she slipped closer and closer towards the unconscious pull of the fairy hill.
Inside, deep in her belly, a warmth started to emanate. Beginning in her womb, the *glow* seemed to fill her frigid veins with new life, her eyes tearing up as the image of Frank wobbled and faded.
Suddenly her rash decision didn’t seem so clear anymore, and her flight away from Willie and the protection of the forest seemed foolish and selfish.
*No*, she reasoned, anger flaring as she took a measured step forwards, numbing herself to the strange sensation currently bubbling up just beneath her pale skin. She needed to go home, to the twentieth century where she belonged –where she had been desperate to return to this entire time.
Clenching her fists, Claire steadied her shoulders and fought back against the emotions coursing through her.
In the distance, a subtle cry pulled her from her internal conflagration, her ears pricking at the sound.
*Willie*…she could hear him calling out to her, his anxious fretting reverberating through the low ground as he searched for her.
Dipping down, Claire hid herself, her mouth going dry at the mere thought of him out there, frantically scraping every inch of the nearby surroundings in the hope of coming across her.
Her stomach dropped, the sensation rocking her as she gripped her belly, doubling over as she gasped for breath.
*NO*, she cried, albeit silently, the improbable explanation for her unease causing bile to rise in her throat.
*No. No, no…no!*
It couldn’t be.
She wasn’t sure, but it was certainly too soon to tell.
Her body, however, immediately dismissed the notion, the muscles in her womb tightening as if to protect the tiny visitor growing inside.
Slamming her back against a tree that grew on the edge of the hillock, Claire clenched her eyes shut, moisture spilling down her cheeks as she rubbed the same spot over and over, the rough material of her bodice irritating the sweat-drenched skin of her palms.
Before she had time to debate any further strong hands grabbed her, hauling her from the damp grass where she’d collapsed in anguish only moments before.
“Up with you, mistress!” The redcoats spat, distaste lacing their tone as they pulled Claire aside, taking advantage of her delirious state.
Finally, her faculties returning to her, Claire awoke, fury shooting through her from head to toe as she began to fight, her arms aching where the men had tight hold of her.
“No!” She yelled, her cheeks burning, impassioned rage seeping from her pores as she tried hard to flee.
“I don’t think so, my girl,” the older of the pair sneered, his blackened teeth grinding together as he bound her wrists and thrust he up into their small cart. “I’d save all your strength,” the younger returned, a fowl glint in his eyes as he secured her to the wagon, her wrists burning and her blood running cold as she guessed the next words out of his mouth, “you’ll need it soon enough. Just you wait until Captain Randall sees you, eh…”
With that, her heart plummeted.
As the horses began to pull away, Claire slid her knees upwards, cocooning herself against the thin material of the wagon wall, protecting the only thing that mattered now. The one thing she had wanted most of all.
Burying her head in her hands, she wept quietly, bitter tears rolling in thick rivulets down her flushed cheeks.
Why now? She cursed, her internal monologue going unheeded as dusk settled over the highlands.
Why now with a man she barely knew in a land where she was all but a stranger?
I have no idea how this is gonna go, but I would do anything for @prompt-master so here we go!
Jeremy’s quick and flexible, but he slips up while he’s gearing up to swing toward an opposite building to put some space between he and SQUIP. The rooftop beneath him is slick from the persistent downpour, and his foot slides out from underneath him just as he’s about to leap off the side of the building. He hits the ground hard and let’s out a low groan as he pushes himself up on his elbows.
“Clumsy for a supposed superhero.”
Jeremy breathes out a shaky laugh. “Minor setback,” he grumbles, but before he can get to his feet, SQUIP is pinning him back to the ground with pointy knees against his legs.
“I wasn’t aware you were into all this,” Jeremy says, voice teasing as he motions with his head to the compromising position the two are in. “I mean, I’m not really into villains, but-”
Whatever snarky comment to follow is lost by a sharp blade slicing across his stomach. He gasps, a pained breath shooting up his throat, as his entire body tenses against the blade.
Characters: [FEMALE] Reader x James “Bucky” Barnes
Warnings: Fighting, mild swearing, mentions of cheating
Request: “Can i please get a request were Bucky and the reader lives together in their shared apartment, but one day they have a fight about something and the reader kicks him right on his private parts and Bucky trembles down, the reader tires to apologize but she can’t stop laughing, yet she cares about him and takes care of him the rest of the day keeping Bucky in her arms cuddling to sleep” - anonymous
Word Count: 980
A/N: this was requested while one shots were closed, so that’s why this took so long to write. otherwise, hope you enjoy (and one shots are still closed)
“If you keep glaring at everything like that, you’re gonna have wrinkles before you’re thirty.”
Bellamy ducks his head, a rare grin darting across his face as he catches his girlfriend in his arms before she can stumble into the wall.
“It’s called ‘supervising’,” he corrects her primly, and Clarke just leans forward to blow a wet raspberry against his cheek. He can smell the alcohol on her breath and smothers another grin in her hair. “Someone needs to make sure you drunks don’t injure yourselves,” he says, pinching the soft skin of her hip where her shirt has ridden up.
“It’s called ‘being a stick in the mud’,” she shoots back before pulling away and taking his hands in hers. “Come dance with me.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t dance.”
“Don’t or can’t?” she asks, hitching an eyebrow.
“Don’t,” he replies, brushing a hand over her exposed shoulder. “But don’t worry, you’re dancing enough for the two of us,” he adds on with a smirk.
It was the understatement of the year.
Clarke, when given the correct sugar to alcohol ratio, is a notoriously bad dancer. She’s a ball of energy, enthusiastic spins and flailing limbs, a danger to anyone within a five foot radius, and Bellamy finds it absolutely adorable.
(Although, that may just be because he finds everything Clarke does absolutely adorable. She’s his girlfriend, he’s allowed to think that.)
I have a prompt if that's ok? The whole pack incl Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Danny + Liam think that Derek and Stiles (who are bffs) are the perfect match for each other and try to set them up and they try to make Derek jealous by all flirting one by one with Stiles but nothing works so during a pack meeting Danny ups the ante and it works Just not on Derek, it works on Jackson who snaps and kisses Stiles and that's when the pack realises they got it wrong, it's Jackson that Stiles likes not Derek haha
Of course it’s okay, Nonny! Your prompt was really cute and I hope you like what I came up with for it! And I hope you’re still around to see the fic^^°
Beta-read by the wonderful @ohfuckthisshit, who also did some much needed cheerleading! Thank you <3
Five times the pack tried to help Stiles’ love life and one time they did
Subtitled: Alpha knows best
Stackson, 4k, T, no warnings apply
Erica realises it first: Stiles and Derek are totally in luuuurve.
They have been spending a lot of time together lately; most of the time, Stiles is already at Derek’s when the rest of the pack arrives for pack meetings or movie nights and the like. Their scents have even started to mix! At first Erica thought that they were keeping it quiet, being secretive while the relationship is still new, but eventually she comes to the conclusion that nothing is going on, that they are just that oblivious.
It’s obvious that they need help. And Erica knows exactly what to do - a healthy dose of jealousy has revealed many a secret affection yet.
So for the next pack meeting she chooses one of her lowest cut shirts, the shortest skirt, and her favourite red lipstick. Dressed to kill, she makes sure to bend over a lot in Stiles’ vicinity, cuddles up close to him on the couch, and sucks seductively on her straw. Stiles reacts appropriately for the most part, blushing at her antics, staring at her breasts for an ego-boosting, but not creepy amount of time, and flirting back slightly awkwardly.
But Derek doesn’t really react satisfyingly - he perhaps rolls his eyes a little more than usual, but even now, with Beacon Hills safe and at peace and no danger looming on the horizon, his basic setting is ‘grump’, so there’s no telling whether Erica’s flirting makes him grumpier than usual. The only suspicious behaviour comes from Jackson, who suddenly develops a hacking cough that night. In fact, Stiles might have spent more time asking Jackson whether he’s alright than flirting with Erica.
To add insult to injury, Stiles takes her aside after the meeting to ask whether everything is alright with her and Boyd. And then he hugs her and reassures her that while he appreciates her body, and fuck anybody who doesn’t, he loves her mind and soul, and that there’s no need to use her body as a weapon among the pack. It’s all terribly sweet, and yes, there might be tears and a few more hugs involved.
All in all, Operation: Red Wolf, Trial 1 is an all around fail.
Anon wanted Klance based on this post. Hope you like it!
Lance had people telling him all week “you sound like you got yourself a nasty cold”, yet he didn’t feel it. Sure he had been constantly stifling sneezes at work, and maybe his voice was a little raspy thanks to coughing at all hours of the night, but he felt fine. More than fine, really. He felt great despite the persisting symptoms, so when Keith texted and asked for a date night on Friday, he happily agreed.