How do you document real life?


Hi, I'm Lauren!
(or rdm, if you prefer the shorter name with the longer story)

I'm 23, a university student and a self-confessed music nerd.

Here you'll find Glee, Disney, Sherlock, fic, musicals, pretty people, pretty things and my ramblings.
Oh and I have a tendency to overshare. Don't say I didn't warn you.


shamelesslymkp:

alilactree:

jillypickle prompted: How about single dad Kurt meets single dad Blaine because their teenagers start dating?

“Okay tell me again. You’re going on what with who now?”

Audrey sighs like the weight of the world is draped across her narrow shoulders and pushes her broccoli around on her plate. “On a date. With a boy. I told you like, a million times Dad, god.

“Okay, first let’s watch the tone,” Kurt says and she huffs, then stabs a broccoli with the tines of her fork. “Second, you are thirteen. Even if you were allowed to date, which you aren’t by the way because you are thirteen, where would you go? How would you get there? Bicycle? Razor Scooter to a romantic picnic under the monkey bars perhaps?”

She scowls and Kurt can’t help the teasing smile on his face. It’s too easy and she’s so cute when she’s pissed off at him. Well, sometimes. The door slamming isn’t his favorite.

“It’s not funny.” She takes a bite of food then looks up, big sad eyes and defeated posture and that does not bode well for his resolve. “He’s really nice and super polite and he said his dad would come and he even asked if I would accompany him to the movies like, who says that? He’s really cute Dad, all the girls in class think so. And Toby.”

“Well if Toby thinks so,” Kurt jokes again, but Audrey still looks put out so Kurt relents. “Okay. Get me his dad’s number and as long as he’s onboard and will be staying with you the entire time I’ll consider it.”

Read More

oh my god i think the best part about this is what the fuckers chose to name their ~kids~


posted 23 hours ago with 872 notes - via shamelesslymkp © alilactree

Shenanigans (T/PG-13) 

istytehcrawk:

Burt Hummel is an inconsistent insomniac. About once a month, he finds himself wide awake in the middle of the night, Carole snoring lightly beside him, and can’t manage to will himself back to sleep. 

This is not unusual.

What IS unusual— not exactly rare over the last few months, since Finn and Rachel got back together, but not particularly common, either — is Burt being able to hear the somewhat muffled but still easily identifiable sound of squeaking bed springs. He’s out of bed and heading down the hall to tell them to keep it down (which usually puts a stop to these middle-of-the-night trysts for a few weeks, anyway) when he freezes.

Those are definitely bed squeaks, but they are NOT coming from Finn’s room.

Shit. This just got a lot more complicated.

Burt has known for some time now that Kurt and Blaine are having sex. He’d flat-out asked Kurt once, and Kurt had made an undignified noise but answered honestly, including telling him they use protection every time. So. Burt knows, and he has (mostly) made his peace with the fact that his baby boy isn’t so innocent anymore.

He doesn’t like to interfere with their relationship much, simply because he knows they get enough interference from the rest of the world. He gives them a little more leeway than maybe he should — lets them close the door when they’re alone, doesn’t check on them as often as he does Finn and Rachel, that sort of thing. At the very least, he knows there’s no chance one of them will end up pregnant.

Still, they DO need to keep it down. Burt just doesn’t want to have to tell them, because while Kurt will take it in stride, Blaine will get all earnestly apologetic and embarrassed, and it will be awkward all around for a few days while he tries to be extra respectful to make up for it. Burt HATES when he does that, but there’s no easy way to tell the kid he’s being too polite.

Burt needs a plan.

He creeps back into his bedroom and looks around in the dark, spying his phone sitting on the nightstand, illuminated by the glow of his alarm clock. Perfect.

Text message it is. Maybe they won’t get it until after Blaine has gone home (which he definitely will, because he wasn’t there when Burt went to bed last night, so he wouldn’t dare be there when Burt wakes up in the morning), so some of the awkwardness can be avoided.

But what to say? He doesn’t want to come across as angry, because he isn’t, but he wants them to get the point.

The message he decides upon makes him laugh, so he sends it to both of them and to Carole for good measure, in case he forgets to mention this to her in the morning.

Burt: “The next time I hear you having sex in the middle of the night, Carole and I will make it into a contest. Keep it down, because you WILL lose.”

——-

Now on AO3 because why not?


posted 23 hours ago with 294 notes - via istytehcrawk

c-is-for-circinate:

I never wrote the Stiles counterpart to this, but now I’m thinking about it again.

So right, this is how Stiles does religion: for seven or eight years or so, he doesn’t.

His mom wasn’t super-religious or anything, they never really were as a family, and then once she died…yeah, there were just more important things to do.  They’re not going to church on Sunday if his dad’s working every other Sunday, and there’s life, and surviving.

Read More


posted 1 day ago with 39 notes - via c-is-for-circinate

Steve Rogers Might Wear Tights, but He's Not Your Pin-Up Girl - RosaLui, what_alchemy 

into-the-weeds:

venneh:

fuck-me-barnes:

drop-deaddream:

Bucky enrolls in a college course about Captain America. It doesn’t go well.

Or, the one where James Barnes writes a ludicrously inappropriate academic paper in defense of Steve’s virtue. Complete with red-penning from a professor whose slow descent into madness is beautifully apparent and a formal letter of apology from Cap himself that doesn’t milk their sad poor orphan status at all, what are you talking about, Captain America would never do that.

I cried laughing. Guys, please. Love yourselves. Read Buck’s foray into academia. And have a few feelings too. 

I read this at work and legit was trying to suppress laughter so bad that tears were in my eyes, which then leaked out and fucked up my eyeliner all over my eyelid

in short this furthered my progression into the winter soldier

go read the thing

#OH MY G OD#NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES YOU ARGUE IT YOU ARE NOT A SUITABLE PRIMARY SOURCE#THIS ISNT ABOUT ME MR BARNES#WHY WOULD YOU HAND THIS IN#YOUR FRIENDS ARE NOT SOURCES#STOP MENTIONING YOURSELF#’he doesn’t understand what size his t-shirts should be’ oh my GOD#if that doesn’t sum up Steven Grant Rogers in one sentence idk what even does#oh Bucky baby#you are a treasure#lmao

No you guys you don’t understand at one point the red pen just says why would you hand this in?


posted 1 day ago with 1,414 notes - via into-the-weeds © drop-deaddream

likearumchocolatesouffle:

Anon said:

kink challenge? watersports/scat? without infantilism. kurt and blaine would be great. :)

Yay thank you for the prompt! :D

Warnings: Fairly mild watersports and scat, bdsm, safeword use, desperation, bathroom control, course language, humiliation, unbetaed. Let me know if you need more details or if I’ve missed any warnings or anything.

Wordcount: ~800

"Kurt?" Blaine looked over at Kurt from his place on the couch. He closed his laptop, put it on the coffee table, and started to stand. "Is it okay if I go to the bathroom now?"

Read More


posted 1 day ago with 14 notes - via likearumchocolatesouffle

likearumchocolatesouffle:

Anon said:

For the kink challenge : pretend rape kink ?

Here you go! Thank you for the prompt! :D

Warnings: Ravishment / consensual non-consent, graphic sex, brief vague violent fantasy, being restrained/contained, sudden but non-painful penetration, desperation, course language, unbetaed. Please let me know if you need more details or if I’ve missed any warnings!

Wordcount: ~800

Blaine leaned up and kissed Kurt’s lips. The bed was soft under his back, the lights were dimmed, and through the open window he could hear the city - traffic and people coming and going. He reached down between his legs to help guide Kurt’s cock inside him, and gasped at the sudden feeling of almost-too-much pressure, then pleasure, feeling strangely vulnerable with so many strangers moving about just a few floors below.

Kurt groaned and fell forward on top of him, bucking his hips and breathing hard. He kissed Blaine’s neck. “Oh god–” He whispered quietly, as if it would make a difference to the city outside.

"Kurt." Blaine waited for Kurt to raise his head and look at his face. "Could you…?" He raised his arms up and laid them on the mattress by his head, holding Kurt’s gaze while he did it.

Kurt grinned. “You really liked that last time, huh?”

Blaine nodded and blushed, and his fingers twitched.

Kurt gently put his hands on Blaine’s wrists, inhaling hard. “Try to get away.”

Read More


posted 1 day ago with 58 notes - via likearumchocolatesouffle

Fic: Playing the Game - Rose Petals 

jaylie12:

Title: Playing the Game - Rose Petals
Pairing: CrissColfer
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimers: Not mine.
Summary: Darren’s going a little crazy, maybe.  But not really.

Previous parts: 1.Overboard2.Glee3.(Wendy) Darling, 4.Spellbound, 5.On the Rocks, 6.Shower, 7.Cherry, 8.Pink, 9.Chocolate Chip Cookies, 10.Allergies, 11.Off-Screen, 12.Overhear(d), 13.Werewolves, 14.Nerd, 15.Rockstar, 16.Jealousy, 17.Land of Stories, 18.Harmless, 19.Disneyland, 20.Fight (or the lack thereof), 21.Pornstar, 22.Youtube  

__________

23. Rose Petals

Blaine uploaded a video almost every day, choosing songs old and new, and ones not performed on Glee yet. He rearranged them all—slowing down pop songs, turning standards into soulful R&B or upbeat hip hop, and mashing current songs with classical concertos by Beethoven and Chopin.

Darren waited in anticipation just as everyone else did, and when the songs came out, he was quick to post a comment and tweet a link. Bowtie Boy—Blaine’s self-appointed internet handle—was fast becoming an internet celebrity. And the mystery, not knowing who he was, only added to the buzz.

Read More


posted 1 day ago with 43 notes - via jaylie12

soshhy:

This is a birthday ficlet for hils, who asked for either traditional hurt/comfort or total fluff where everyone is happy. Since she seems to have the h/c covered on her own, here is some fluff.
I’m maintaining the tradition of using her Sebastian Stan images as fic prompts. This is one we were talking about and plot-bunnying a long time ago. What a gorgeous dope.
Happy birthday!
***
When Tony Stark asked Pepper Potts to marry him the whole world knew about it. The stage at the Stark Expo’s annual extravaganza was lit by fireworks, a blaze of colour and light and confetti. He wore the suit, and she wore an expression of growing exasperation. There was a hundred-person choir, and a thousand people holding their breath while they waited for her answer.
The proposal wasn’t Tony saying: Will you marry me?  It was Tony saying: This is me. I’m loud and obnoxious and thoughtless, I will always go one step too far, there are going to be so many times in my life when I mess up worse than this. Will you marry me anyway?
So, despite the glitz and the schmaltz and the showmanship, it was what it needed to be. It was honest.
Bucky wants to be honest. What he wants to say is this: I know you, Steve. They tried to make me forget, but I know you and I love every single piece of you the way you deserve to be loved.
He doesn’t want to make a huge production of it. He just wants to make it special. Not nice-restaurant-ring-in-the-champagne-flute special. Something that’s special for Steve. Something worthy of Steve, that shows Bucky knows exactly the proposal he would like best. It’s gotta be romantic as all hell.
And Bucky’s got nothing.
***
When Pepper walks into the rec room, Bucky’s poking moodily at Google Maps, trying in vain to find a suitable location. He and Steve don’t have many special places left in New York. Their old home in Brooklyn’s now a gas station, Coney Island looks nothing like it used to, and none of the traditional places like the Empire State building or the Statue of Liberty are special to them.
On Pepper’s finger, the very tasteful diamond ring she had substituted for Tony’s actual offering sparkles in the sunlight.
“Pepper?” he says.
She smiles at him, as kind as ever. “Hello, Bucky.”
“Uh…” he says, awkwardly, “do you…  you know who Steve’s favourite artist is?”
Even as he says it, he realises it’s a terrible idea. He thought he could propose at a museum after hours, just the two of them, with candles maybe, and music.  But Jeez, he can’t even remember the kind of art Steve likes. Maybe he knew, once, before. Maybe he just never paid attention. It’s a shitty romantic gesture, anyhow. Hey, you know our teammate’s fiancée? She knows you better than I do.
Fuck, no.
“He likes Cezanne, off the top of my head,” Pepper says, “but he has quite eclectic tastes. Would you like me to make a list?” 
"Never mind," Bucky says, and shoves himself out of his seat to go hide in their room until life doesn’t suck quite so much.
***
On YouTube he watches videos of people proposing all kinds of ways. With singing, with surprises, at ball games with the question up on the big display screen. He and Steve go to ballgames now and then. The problem is, no ballgame’s really gonna be romantic unless it’s the Dodgers playing on their home ground in New York, so that’s a big fat zero of an idea.
Maybe he could hire one of those skywriters and have them write, “Until the end of the line,” in red, white and blue smoke on the sky. That would bring back lovely happy memories of Steve’s mother’s funeral, and that time when he had just shot Steve repeatedly in the stomach and beaten him half to death.
Even with the whole internet at his disposal, he can’t pick out a ring.
***
It’s Saturday, and he’s sitting in one of New York’s infinite diners, running through ideas in his mind. These days it feels like he spends half his time obsessing over the proposal. In one sense, it’s stupid. Either Steve wants to marry him or he doesn’t, and the proposal itself isn’t going to turn a no into a yes. But it feels like it makes a difference. There’s no explaining it.
At the tower, everyone’s probably having brunch. Steve’s not there, though, so Bucky’s not there either. Steve has an interview thing, one of those annoying chores that the PR team keep setting up for him. The interviewer will have been given the usual caveat, of course: “Say one word about Sergeant James Barnes and you will never work in this town again.”
Steve is protective. He says that the media have everything they need to know about Bucky. There’s the public record of what happened with HYDRA, and the official statement saying that Bucky’s home and that he and Steve are together. Anything else is none of their goddamn business. Reporters also know better than to approach Bucky directly. It happened once. It didn’t end well.
Apparently this interview is a live broadcast, because when one of the servers in Bucky’s diner flicks channels on the little TV over the counter, there’s Steve. Glowing, beautiful Steve, busily charming the pants off the interviewer and the American public both at once. 
He’s talking about Tony’s goddamn wedding. Of course. Talking about how great it is that the two of them are tying the knot, and Bucky can see the interviewer itching to ask whether there might be wedding bells in Steve’s future too, but that, thank god, comes under the heading of Don’t Mention Bucky Barnes.
So, Mr Stark went all out with his proposal,” the interviewer says. “What do you think about big, romantic gestures like that?”
Yeah, she’s walking a fine line.
But Steve doesn’t clam up the way he usually does when someone pries. Instead, he gives a little self-deprecating laugh, and shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s really my style,” he says, playing the boy-next-door for all he’s worth. “I figure if I wanted to propose to someone I’d just ask. That’s what I’d want, if it was the other way around. If someone was gonna propose to me I’d want them to just come straight out and ask.”
“Just ask?” says the interviewer, and now she’s practically squirming in her chair, probably chomping on the inside of her cheek to keep from breaking the Bucky Barnes rule.
“Just ask. If they knew for sure it was what they wanted,” Steve says, and the smile slips a little. He looks worried.
Bucky can’t have that.
He jumps to his feet, grabs the giant daisy thing decorating his table, and negotiates the obstacle course of chairs and people at top speed - which for a semi-supersoldier is pretty damn fast.
“Hey!” a voice calls behind him. “You can’t just take the flowers!”
“Sorry, pal,” Bucky yells back as he runs, “I gotta go propose to Captain America!”
***
When he arrives at the studio Steve is innocently signing autographs for the television crew. Bucky unceremoniously grabs him by the shoulder and drags him into the dressing room, clicking the lock shut behind them.
“Hey Bucky,” Steve says. He’s all warm, soft smiles and gladness despite the way Bucky’s glaring at him. “I thought maybe you’d come. I hoped you would.”
“You punk. You knew.”
“Mighta noticed some stuff.”
“I wanted to do a whole thing.”
“You were taking too long, dummy,” Steve says. He cups Bucky’s cheek, resting his fingertips in the soft hollow between neck and jawline. “I don’t care how you ask, so long as I get my chance to say yes.”
“You gonna say yes?”
“You gonna ask me?”
There’s an obvious answer to that one. Bucky draws in a deep breath and drops to one knee, holding out the dumb droopy flower. “Steven Grant Rogers,” he says, “wouldya make an honest man of me?”
“That’s a tall order, Buck, but I’ll do my best.”
Steve takes the flower. The way his careful fingers encircle the stem you’d think it was just as precious as a gold ring.
***
The video starts to go viral less than an hour later.
Bucky and Steve walk back into the tower to find the Avengers plus Pepper clustered around a tablet. When they look up every one of them is wearing some variation on the theme of a smile – from smirking to delighted to something that can only be described as ‘Awwwwww’.
“Okay,” Steve says, “how the hell do you already know?”
Bruce holds out the tablet.
The clip is amateur and slightly shaky, probably from a phone camera, and in the background is the clatter of cutlery and plates and the hum of conversation. The picture is just one guy in a dark hoodie and a baseball cap, a plate of pancakes untouched in front of him, staring upwards at an out-of-shot TV screen. 
“It is. I swear that’s him. Aw… he’s watching Cap on TV, that’s so cute…”
And then the guy scrambles to his feet in a rush, grabs the flower from the vase, and runs, yelling very audibly that he’s gotta go propose to a national icon, leaving the customers and the servers staring after him.
Bucky groans gently, because that right there? Possibly the most embarrassing thing ever.
Then Steve looks up from the screen, puts his hands on his hips and says, “You stole my engagement flower?”
***
So that’s how the Winter Soldier ends up traipsing sheepishly back into the diner, digging in his wallet for a twenty and telling the flabbergasted owner, “I’m sorry I stole one of your flowers, wouldya let me pay for it so Captain America will quit grousing at me?” 
The owner’s eyes flick disbelievingly from one to another of the various Avengers who have just invaded his place of business. “Uh… it’s on the house,” he says.
Bucky shoves the bill into the tip jar. “Happy now?” he asks, turning to Steve and possibly pouting just a little bit, because they’re wasting time that could be better spent having newly-engaged sex.
Steve’s still holding onto his flower, and now there’s a gigantic, goofy smile all over his face. “Yeah, I’m happy,” he says, reaching out his free hand to Bucky. He smiles even wider as Bucky takes it and uses it to pull him in close. “I’ve never been happier in my life.”

soshhy:

This is a birthday ficlet for hils, who asked for either traditional hurt/comfort or total fluff where everyone is happy. Since she seems to have the h/c covered on her own, here is some fluff.

I’m maintaining the tradition of using her Sebastian Stan images as fic prompts. This is one we were talking about and plot-bunnying a long time ago. What a gorgeous dope.

Happy birthday!

***

When Tony Stark asked Pepper Potts to marry him the whole world knew about it. The stage at the Stark Expo’s annual extravaganza was lit by fireworks, a blaze of colour and light and confetti. He wore the suit, and she wore an expression of growing exasperation. There was a hundred-person choir, and a thousand people holding their breath while they waited for her answer.

The proposal wasn’t Tony saying: Will you marry me?  It was Tony saying: This is me. I’m loud and obnoxious and thoughtless, I will always go one step too far, there are going to be so many times in my life when I mess up worse than this. Will you marry me anyway?

So, despite the glitz and the schmaltz and the showmanship, it was what it needed to be. It was honest.

Bucky wants to be honest. What he wants to say is this: I know you, Steve. They tried to make me forget, but I know you and I love every single piece of you the way you deserve to be loved.

He doesn’t want to make a huge production of it. He just wants to make it special. Not nice-restaurant-ring-in-the-champagne-flute special. Something that’s special for Steve. Something worthy of Steve, that shows Bucky knows exactly the proposal he would like best. It’s gotta be romantic as all hell.

And Bucky’s got nothing.

***

When Pepper walks into the rec room, Bucky’s poking moodily at Google Maps, trying in vain to find a suitable location. He and Steve don’t have many special places left in New York. Their old home in Brooklyn’s now a gas station, Coney Island looks nothing like it used to, and none of the traditional places like the Empire State building or the Statue of Liberty are special to them.

On Pepper’s finger, the very tasteful diamond ring she had substituted for Tony’s actual offering sparkles in the sunlight.

“Pepper?” he says.

She smiles at him, as kind as ever. “Hello, Bucky.”

“Uh…” he says, awkwardly, “do you…  you know who Steve’s favourite artist is?”

Even as he says it, he realises it’s a terrible idea. He thought he could propose at a museum after hours, just the two of them, with candles maybe, and music.  But Jeez, he can’t even remember the kind of art Steve likes. Maybe he knew, once, before. Maybe he just never paid attention. It’s a shitty romantic gesture, anyhow. Hey, you know our teammate’s fiancée? She knows you better than I do.

Fuck, no.

“He likes Cezanne, off the top of my head,” Pepper says, “but he has quite eclectic tastes. Would you like me to make a list?”

"Never mind," Bucky says, and shoves himself out of his seat to go hide in their room until life doesn’t suck quite so much.

***

On YouTube he watches videos of people proposing all kinds of ways. With singing, with surprises, at ball games with the question up on the big display screen. He and Steve go to ballgames now and then. The problem is, no ballgame’s really gonna be romantic unless it’s the Dodgers playing on their home ground in New York, so that’s a big fat zero of an idea.

Maybe he could hire one of those skywriters and have them write, “Until the end of the line,” in red, white and blue smoke on the sky. That would bring back lovely happy memories of Steve’s mother’s funeral, and that time when he had just shot Steve repeatedly in the stomach and beaten him half to death.

Even with the whole internet at his disposal, he can’t pick out a ring.

***

It’s Saturday, and he’s sitting in one of New York’s infinite diners, running through ideas in his mind. These days it feels like he spends half his time obsessing over the proposal. In one sense, it’s stupid. Either Steve wants to marry him or he doesn’t, and the proposal itself isn’t going to turn a no into a yes. But it feels like it makes a difference. There’s no explaining it.

At the tower, everyone’s probably having brunch. Steve’s not there, though, so Bucky’s not there either. Steve has an interview thing, one of those annoying chores that the PR team keep setting up for him. The interviewer will have been given the usual caveat, of course: “Say one word about Sergeant James Barnes and you will never work in this town again.

Steve is protective. He says that the media have everything they need to know about Bucky. There’s the public record of what happened with HYDRA, and the official statement saying that Bucky’s home and that he and Steve are together. Anything else is none of their goddamn business. Reporters also know better than to approach Bucky directly. It happened once. It didn’t end well.

Apparently this interview is a live broadcast, because when one of the servers in Bucky’s diner flicks channels on the little TV over the counter, there’s Steve. Glowing, beautiful Steve, busily charming the pants off the interviewer and the American public both at once.

He’s talking about Tony’s goddamn wedding. Of course. Talking about how great it is that the two of them are tying the knot, and Bucky can see the interviewer itching to ask whether there might be wedding bells in Steve’s future too, but that, thank god, comes under the heading of Don’t Mention Bucky Barnes.

So, Mr Stark went all out with his proposal,” the interviewer says. “What do you think about big, romantic gestures like that?”

Yeah, she’s walking a fine line.

But Steve doesn’t clam up the way he usually does when someone pries. Instead, he gives a little self-deprecating laugh, and shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s really my style,” he says, playing the boy-next-door for all he’s worth. “I figure if I wanted to propose to someone I’d just ask. That’s what I’d want, if it was the other way around. If someone was gonna propose to me I’d want them to just come straight out and ask.”

“Just ask?” says the interviewer, and now she’s practically squirming in her chair, probably chomping on the inside of her cheek to keep from breaking the Bucky Barnes rule.

“Just ask. If they knew for sure it was what they wanted,” Steve says, and the smile slips a little. He looks worried.

Bucky can’t have that.

He jumps to his feet, grabs the giant daisy thing decorating his table, and negotiates the obstacle course of chairs and people at top speed - which for a semi-supersoldier is pretty damn fast.

“Hey!” a voice calls behind him. “You can’t just take the flowers!”

“Sorry, pal,” Bucky yells back as he runs, “I gotta go propose to Captain America!”

***

When he arrives at the studio Steve is innocently signing autographs for the television crew. Bucky unceremoniously grabs him by the shoulder and drags him into the dressing room, clicking the lock shut behind them.

“Hey Bucky,” Steve says. He’s all warm, soft smiles and gladness despite the way Bucky’s glaring at him. “I thought maybe you’d come. I hoped you would.”

“You punk. You knew.”

“Mighta noticed some stuff.”

“I wanted to do a whole thing.”

“You were taking too long, dummy,” Steve says. He cups Bucky’s cheek, resting his fingertips in the soft hollow between neck and jawline. “I don’t care how you ask, so long as I get my chance to say yes.”

“You gonna say yes?”

“You gonna ask me?”

There’s an obvious answer to that one. Bucky draws in a deep breath and drops to one knee, holding out the dumb droopy flower. “Steven Grant Rogers,” he says, “wouldya make an honest man of me?”

“That’s a tall order, Buck, but I’ll do my best.”

Steve takes the flower. The way his careful fingers encircle the stem you’d think it was just as precious as a gold ring.

***

The video starts to go viral less than an hour later.

Bucky and Steve walk back into the tower to find the Avengers plus Pepper clustered around a tablet. When they look up every one of them is wearing some variation on the theme of a smile – from smirking to delighted to something that can only be described as ‘Awwwwww’.

“Okay,” Steve says, “how the hell do you already know?”

Bruce holds out the tablet.

The clip is amateur and slightly shaky, probably from a phone camera, and in the background is the clatter of cutlery and plates and the hum of conversation. The picture is just one guy in a dark hoodie and a baseball cap, a plate of pancakes untouched in front of him, staring upwards at an out-of-shot TV screen.

“It is. I swear that’s him. Aw… he’s watching Cap on TV, that’s so cute…”

And then the guy scrambles to his feet in a rush, grabs the flower from the vase, and runs, yelling very audibly that he’s gotta go propose to a national icon, leaving the customers and the servers staring after him.

Bucky groans gently, because that right there? Possibly the most embarrassing thing ever.

Then Steve looks up from the screen, puts his hands on his hips and says, “You stole my engagement flower?”

***

So that’s how the Winter Soldier ends up traipsing sheepishly back into the diner, digging in his wallet for a twenty and telling the flabbergasted owner, “I’m sorry I stole one of your flowers, wouldya let me pay for it so Captain America will quit grousing at me?”

The owner’s eyes flick disbelievingly from one to another of the various Avengers who have just invaded his place of business. “Uh… it’s on the house,” he says.

Bucky shoves the bill into the tip jar. “Happy now?” he asks, turning to Steve and possibly pouting just a little bit, because they’re wasting time that could be better spent having newly-engaged sex.

Steve’s still holding onto his flower, and now there’s a gigantic, goofy smile all over his face. “Yeah, I’m happy,” he says, reaching out his free hand to Bucky. He smiles even wider as Bucky takes it and uses it to pull him in close. “I’ve never been happier in my life.”


posted 4 days ago with 545 notes - via soshhy

Fic: Expected Responses  

chiasmuslovesme:

I missed yesterday’s discussions about topping/bottoming cliches, but they’re still an excellent excuse to de-anon this (lightly revised) story first posted on the GKM.

Expected Responses
Pairings: 
Kurt/Blaine
Word count: 6,314 words
Rating: Mature 

Summary: GKM prompt fill: “I want basically what has been happening in canon, with June not liking Kurt and trying to convince Blaine to break up with him, but set in a D/s universe where both Blaine and June are Dominants and Kurt is a sub.” (You can read the entire prompt, with plot spoilers, at the link)

Notes: Special thanks to Wowbright and pene for their beta-reading help.

Read on AO3

——-

“…and so I said to Prince Feisal, what do you think this, a quarterhorse convention?” June looks so pleased with her quip, Blaine has to laugh in admiration.

“I want to be you when I grow up,” he says.

She looks at him consideringly. “Why? What do you find so attractive? Tell me. Is it the fame? Is the power? Is it the money? What is it?”

“No,” Blaine says, and he’s star-struck. “It’s the life. I mean, how did you manage to find yourself in the center of all of it?”

“I believe that you get back from the world what you put out into it. Put out charisma and dominance, and the world will fall to its knees for you.” She takes another sip of her coffee. “Obviously, you have more than enough charisma; that much was clear the first time I set eyes on you. Now we just have to work on the dominance.”

Blaine frowns. “What?”

Read More


posted 5 days ago with 130 notes - via thetimesinbetween © chiasmuslovesme

FIC: Connected In With The Beyond; Kurt Hummel (R) 

fierybeams:

Kurt Hummel, gen fic (but with reference to Kurt/Blaine & a quiet hint of Kurt/Finn), ~500 words

Summary: Kurt wreaks war with his garments until it starts to feel like something else. Written for day four of Kurt Gen Week: fashion. Featuring sub!Kurt and breathplay. 

Composure is key, Kurt knows, figures out early on: suppression, containment, restraint.

Read More


posted 6 days ago with 43 notes - via thetimesinbetween © fierybeams