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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    “At least we got this far,” Stiles argued. “Could’ve been worse. For now, they know he’s taken by someone in the pack.”

    “Mm hm,” Lydia said, giving him a look. “You realize that you are now going to have to pretend to date Derek, right?”

    Stiles rolled his eyes. “Oh no, what a hardship. That sucks, boo hoo.” He motioned Derek emphatically. “He’s like, my best friend.”

    “Hey!” Scott insisted.

    “He’s like, my second best friend,” Stiles amended. “It’s fine, we’ll figure it out. Right?” He turned to grin at Derek, who was scowling at him.

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    21 Jul 2021

    Bookmarker's Notes

    “And I don’t know about you, but I’m fairly certain if you asked to kiss Scott, he definitely wouldn’t look the way Derek does when he kisses you. And he certainly wouldn’t be kissing you over and over again in front of your dad’s workplace. One kiss is for show, keeping up a facade. Two is stretching it, but maybe it’s just to be sure it’s believable. But what’s three, then? Why three times? And do you kiss in the loft? Why do you need to kiss in the loft? No one is there.”

    “They could be watching,” Stiles said, finally finding his voice. “They could—magic. Or-or cameras or something.”

    “Do you think couples are constantly kissing each other all the time behind closed doors?” his dad gave him a look, like he was questioning Stiles’ intelligence.

    Which, honestly: rude. Super rude. Stiles wasn’t dumb, he was just... slow to process. Or something.

    “Stiles, you’ve been dating Derek for well over a year. When I got your text, I’d just assumed you’d finally noticed.”

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Rule one of kidnapping Stiles Stilinski: he is required to be entertained.

    Not that he got kidnapped a lot!

    Or... not like, all the time, at any rate. His being kidnapped seemed to have increased lately, but he attributed that to being distracted more often than usual because of school. Sure, he’d had high school to contend with back in the day, but high school was less demanding than university. He always watched movies where people were out partying it up or solving crime or having huge campus-wide mass murders or whatever and all Stiles wanted to know was where they found the time.

    To be fair, most of them didn’t have the Supernatural breathing down their neck, or a pack constantly coming to them for advice. Like he was the poster child of good decisions, who was dumb enough to believe that? His best friend was a Werewolf because of all his so-called ‘good decisions.’

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    17 Jul 2021

    Bookmarker's Notes

    “Hey, was Carmen still here when you showed up?”

    The stab of hurt that lanced through him was sharp and unexpected. Derek had said her name so easily. Like it wasn’t a big deal, and Stiles shouldn’t have been at all surprised he had someone over last night.

    “No,” he answered, staring down at the home screen of one of his games.

    “Guess she’d had enough of my company,” Derek said, voice teasing.

    Stiles didn’t laugh. Derek noticed.

    They sat in silence for a while longer, Derek standing on the other side of the table and Stiles staring down at the home screen of the game without making any move to play it. After a while longer, Derek sat down across from Stiles.

    “Stiles, what happened?”

    “Nothing happened,” he insisted.

    Derek reached out and took his phone before he could stop him, setting it face down on the table at his elbow and raising both eyebrows.

    “Something’s clearly wrong. I drop Carmen’s name and I’m not getting grilled like a prime rib right now. What happened?”

    “I mean, it’s none of my business who Carmen is,” Stiles insisted, shrugging expansively.

    Derek snorted loudly. “Since when has that stopped you?”

    “Since now.” He reached across the table for his phone, but Derek moved it out of his reach, eyebrows still raised. “Can I have my phone back? I’m waiting for my dad to text me about a ride.”

    “I told you, you can crash here,” Derek insisted with a furrow between his brows.

    “It’s fine, I can go home. Don’t want to impose.”

    Obviously Derek was well aware things were dire right now, because instead of snorting and saying, “Since when?” like he normally would have, he said, “You’re not an imposition.”

    “What if Carmen comes back?”

    “And?” Derek’s eyebrows rose impossibly higher. “What if she does?”

    Stiles sputtered for a few seconds, because he honestly didn’t know how to respond to that. “Are you an exhibitionist? I’m not a voyeur,” was what he finally settled on.

    Derek stared at him for a few seconds, and then leaned forward on the table, placing both hands flat against the wooden surface. Stiles’ phone was nowhere in sight, so he’d probably put it on his lap.

    “Why are you assuming if Carmen was here that this would turn me into an exhibitionist and you into a voyeur?”

    “She left you a note,” Stiles blurted out, motioning the stairs behind him. “She probably wanted to make sure you knew how great you were last night. She didn’t stick around for you to come back, but she needed to make sure you were well aware of your amazingness in the sack.”

    Derek kept staring at him. “Did she say that?”

    “What?”

    “In the note, did she say I was good in bed?”

    “It was implied.”

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    As a Bodyguard within the Stilinski Rodzina, Derek's one and only job is to watch over the Omega son—and only child—of the Family's Head, Stiles, a task that is easier said than done some nights. It's just good that the Alpha knows the best way to punish the little troublemaker when his bratty behavior threatens to expose a secret that could get the Bodyguard killed.

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    30 Jun 2021

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    In 1945, Steve Rogers jumps from a nosediving plane and swims through miles of Arctic Ocean to a frozen shore.

    In 1947, Steve Rogers marries Peggy Carter.

    In 1966, the New York Times finds the lost letters of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.

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    03 May 2021

    Bookmarker's Notes

    “Even when I had nothing,” begins Steve, “I had Bucky.”

    As though she expected this Peggy nods. She looks down at her own copy of the Times, and Steve can see her eyes move across the text of the headline, once and then twice. She nods again to herself, just a little, and asks, starkly, shatteringly, “Did you love him?”

    Here is the horrible truth of it, cover to cover: for as long as Steve can remember, the entire universe began and ended with James Buchanan Barnes. It spun on the axis of them. But then James Buchanan Barnes fell miles into a frozen ravine, and the universe, in an act of unspeakable cruelty, kept spinning on.

    Steve loves Peggy. He has loved her since the moment he saw her, and during the war he thought about her every night before he fell asleep and every morning after he woke up. He loves her endlessly, loves her growing wrinkles, loves the mole beneath her left breast. He loves her in her multitudes, in her singularities, and the night he proposed he felt unworthy and small in the face of something so huge as the love he felt for her and the love that she returned. He loves the life they have built. He loves her despite the lies and the fights and the chill that has settled over their brownstone.

    Steve didn’t — he didn’t, with Bucky.

    It was never so simple as that.

    When Steve’s lungs rattled so bad and started him coughing so hard he went white, when his ma would sit beside his bed and pretend hard like she wasn’t thinking of calling in the priest, Steve breathed for Bucky, just for Bucky, who’d kill Steve himself if Steve left him alone without anyone to throw rocks with. When Steve would start gasping in the winter after trying to walk up the three flights of stairs to their shoebox apartment, Bucky would stop on the landing and press Steve’s thumb to the healthy pulse inside his wrist and sway close, waiting for their heartbeats to match. When they fell asleep — at nine, at sixteen, at twenty-five and freezing cold in Allied France — they aligned like two pieces of a puzzle, so perfectly fitted together that it would take an act of God Himself to tear them apart. And it did take an act of God. It did. They ruled the world with scraped knees and no central heating and not even two dimes to rub together. Steve would raze cities to save him. He would march through miles of the blackened hell of wartime Austria all over again, a thousand times, a million, barefoot or even naked, bleeding, carrying one hundred pounds uphill like Sisyphus, just to see one last time the smile that spread across Bucky’s face when he recognized Steve as his savior. Steve knows this the way that he knows the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. With Bucky, Steve is covetous. He has seen him in his dreams a hundred times. He has wanted him for a thousand years.

    There is no way to say this; Steve couldn’t make his throat open enough to get the words out even if he knew how. He can only form his mouth around the simplest truth he has ever known, the truth that he has never spoken; the truth he is only just now, twenty-five years later, realizing completely.

    “Yes,” says Steve, and experiences for the hundredth time the boundless grief that lays in wait inside of him, always.

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    Bucky’s been at the Avengers Tower for three weeks before he finally gives in to Steve’s gentle coaxing and Stark’s cheerful waving of fistfuls of circuits, and lets them scan the arm.

    It doesn’t go well.

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    23 Apr 2021

    Bookmarker's Notes

    “Whoa,” Bucky says, and blinks. He’s butter. He’s snow in the sun. Slush. Water. He blinks again, and the light gets trapped in his eyelashes. He tries to raise a hand to get it out, but someone gently presses him back down.

    It’s nice, he realizes with dawning wonder. He feels good. He didn’t remember – could he always do that?

    “Alright, Bucky?” a worried voice says.

    Bucky replies before he gets his eyes to work right, “You the nurse, sweetheart?” Because he’s supposed to have a nurse. Weren’t they just saying that?

    But no, it’s better, it’s Steve.

    “Steve!” Bucky says, delighted, and tries to sit up. Steve presses him down, big hand, so damned warm, and Bucky goes, smiling up at him. No restraints, just Steve’s hands, like they’d said. Steve never lies. Steve’s the best, and he looks so good, lopsided frown, big blue eyes, damn. But he’s frowning, he shouldn’t be frowning when everything’s this warm and nice. “Baby doll, hi, baby.” Steve’s eyebrows move upwards, fast. Wow, he’s gorgeous. Steve’s just so pretty, even when he’s frowning. ”You come here often, doll?”