#but my brain blanked out and my body just opened a new canvas going 'hey'

[justtrashperson]

"How many times do I have to hold your dead body in my arms until it's all over?"

[bangaveragewhitewine]

Wanna be with you everywhere

Surrounded by your earthly possessions, boxes upon boxes stacked and looming over you in your new home, you don’t know where to start. Steve reminds you that the most important thing is right in front of you (and has a box of his own for you to open). 

Word Count: 2.7k

Content / Warnings: This is fairly tame and sweet. Reader is overtired and overwhelmed, but other than that - total fluff. Moving in together, a brief sex mention, Steve being romantic and totally down bad for reader. Maybe a big question is on the cards, idk. 

Reader is referred to with one gendered honourific. (No spoilers…👀) I have tried to leave physical descriptions as neutral and inclusive as possible 🧡

If you are not 18+ please do press the back button

Author’s Note: Once again, soft Steve Harrington has invaded my brain. This is pretty short and sweet. Oh to feel safe and loved in his big beefy arms, amirite?

I hope you enjoy! Thank you for the love on Clean Slate & Pinch Me recently - it means a lot!!! Once again I had way too much fun on Canva... Let me know what you think / if you catch any typos!

Please do not do any AI fuckery with my work or repost on other sites.

Boxes. Heavy, full and labelled with a blocky scrawl. They are everywhere, stacked by the coffee table you had thrifted, the big squishy armchair for you to read in. You haven’t seen so many since your high school weekend job filling shelves and scanning groceries and wearing your customer service smile until your cheeks ached. 

The smell of fresh paint and cardboard combined with the dry feeling that the boxes left on your hands makes you want to peel your skin off. You look around the room with your hands pressing into the small of your back while you stack more tasks on your mental to-do list. The room was empty a few hours ago, a total blank canvas. 

The floor calls, grounding you.

With a sigh that pulls from the tips of your toes, you lie back against the cool wood and stretch your arms out by your sides. This is where the couch will go when it arrives. You close your eyes and feel the all-over ache from packing, carrying and lifting. Before the carrying and lifting was days of packing and organising.

That’s when it dawns on you - you still need to unpack them all.

Tears push themselves up and you feel your ugly-cry face break the dazed-but-happy expression you had been wearing all day. All you want is a hot shower and your comfy new bed. And -

“Hey.”

Steve.

Your dry hands cover your face, swiping your wet cheeks as your boyfriend closes the door - the door to your first apartment together - and navigates his way around the boxes to get to you. His presence cuts short your catastrophising.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” he asks, sounding almost panicked. “Do you hate it? I know the paint dried a little darker than we thought, but we can redo it. It’ll be okay.” Steve is quick to join you on the floor, lying on his side by you with one arm wrapped over your shaking body. “Babe…”

When you move your hands to look at Steve’s concerned face, you see that he looks as tired as you feel. Despite that, he’s still the most gorgeous person you have ever seen. His hair is crushed under a backwards baseball cap and there’s pizza sauce on his tshirt. His deodorant and aftershave has long worn off but you let him hold you, lying half on top of him on the floor, not ready or able to speak yet. Big hard-working hands sweep soothingly up and down your back. Steve’s good at that, letting you just cry it out, holding you steady and safe when you need to weep. He always seems to know what you need; a distraction or silence, gentle words or just the steady thud of his heart against your ear. 

Despite the sweat and dust, Steve presses kisses to your forehead as you slowly settle. The fact that he’s so handsome and nice to you makes you sob shakily one more time. 

“Just breathe, you’re okay.” 

Steve is calm, but you know that inside that he’s wracking his brains to get to the bottom of why the love of his life was crying in the middle of their brand new apartment while he was waving off the friends who had helped you move. Had he said something stupid, was the paint really that ugly… Steve didn’t let his mind even go near the idea that you might be second guessing moving in together.

When he sees you peering up at him, his heart beats double time like it always does when you look at him. His attention is back on you now, out of his own head. You can see the cogs turning in his head and feel worse for making him worry about you, feel insecure or like he was the reason for your tears. 

“Hi,” you whisper. “Sorry. Overwhelmed.” 

“Don’t say sorry, honey. It’s okay.” 

You rest your cheek on his chest again. His tshirt is stained wet from your tears now too but Steve doesn’t care.

You lie together on the floor, both aching and bone tired. From somewhere, you summon the energy to  squeeze Steve as tight as possible, needing him to know how much you adore him. He makes a small happy noise before returning the squish. 

“We’re here,” you murmur against his chest, before you free each other to lie side by side in the golden glow coming from the big un-curtained windows. 

“Here we are. Welcome home, baby,” Steve says, turning his head to look at you again. He covers your hand and stroked his thumb over your racing pulse. “What’s going on in that big juicy brain of yours, huh?” 

“Ew.” You laugh, wincing when your body reminds you that it has clocked out for the day, and meet Steve’s gaze. “All the boxes freaked me out. We still need to unpack everything, and the couch won’t fit if we don’t get some of them out of here -” Your voice shakes and catches and you make yourself take one slow deep breath. Steve squeezes you once, no rush. “I’m just so fucking tired, Stevie.” 

Steve gives you a little smile. “I bet. You’ve been running the show today, making sure everything is perfect.” Steve had been up before you, excited to get going, and had spent the day lugging boxes with Eddie, never letting you take the heavy ones. You had caught yourself staring at how his biceps bulged deliciously a couple of times - Steve had caught you too and made sure to come give you some kisses when his hands were free. And he had checked in with you, not wanting you to get too caught up in making everything perfect or taking on too much of the responsibility - you were just better organised than him. The brains to his brawn, though he knew you didn’t like when he thought like that.

He sits up, then stands, groaning like a man older than his twenty-odd years. He holds out his hands to help you up, and he puts his arms around you once you’re upright. 

“Everything’s where it needs to be. You and Nance had that list. Everything’s all colour coded.” You had both been armed with coloured markers and sticky notes to make sure the boxes were in the right rooms. “What’s the word? It’s meticulous, baby.” You can hear a smile in Steve’s low soft voice; he’s proud of himself for remembering and of you, for everything. It helps ease the tension bunched in your shoulders. 

He kisses your head with a fierce amount of love. “It doesn’t need to be perfect right away okay? We’re in this together and we’ll figure it out. All that matters is you and me, yeah? You and me in our first place together. S’already perfect for me.” 

Your heart hurts with how much love it holds for Steve Harrington. He’s right; all that matters is the two of you, boxes of bed sheets and belongings be damned. 

Steve starts a slow sway, his fingers tucked into the belt loops on the back of your old jeans as you settle your hands on the base of his neck. He hums a song you both loved, one that had come on the radio in a moment of pure fate when you started the short drive from his old place to your new one together. 

I want to be with you everywhere…

The smile Steve had graced upon you then was like pure gold and you turned the volume up loud, rolling down the windows as you sang together.

Now you feel his smile, wide and lovely, against your temple and peel back to look up at his face. “What’s the smile for, handsome?” 

“M’happy.” You see that boyish twinkle in his eyes, and when he smiles Steve looks so innocently happy, the little boy who had to grow up too quickly. You press up on your toes, ignoring the burn in your feet to lessen the gap between you. He is quick to meet you halfway and accepts the kiss you land on his smiling mouth. Steve’s joy is contagious and he is as generous sharing it with you as he is with his kisses. 

“I’m happy too, promise.” Foreheads pressed together, you close your eyes and let the calm feeling wash over you as Steve starts the sway again. You’re pressed together, head to toe.

“S’okay if you’re not. You don’t have to say you are if you feel shitty.” Steve’s voice tickles your cheek and he chases it with a kiss there. 

“I am. We’re going to be so happy here, Steve. I love this place.” You feel the truth of your words deep in your bones, beyond your aches and pains. “Love you.”

Your words make his heart zing. “Love you more,” he whispers, nudging your nose with his own as he kisses his way back to your lips. “M’happy with you wherever we are, I just want to be with you.” 

As you hold each other, swaying in the setting sunlight, you let the thought of unpacking shrink and enjoy the moment, calmness washing over you like a balm. Over the next few weeks and days you and Steve will place your things side by side, hang up pictures and clothes and fill the blank canvas. You’ll try the diner down the block for breakfast in the morning as a treat, and do your first grocery shop together. You have already promised each other that you’ll have sex in every room to christen the place (Steve’s idea, you loved it) and in a week or two you’ll invite your friends around for a party. You’ll make up the spare room for when the kids who aren’t kids anymore come to visit. There’s no rush, you have the rest of your lives to feather your nest together, find a bigger one when you’re ready.

You breathe him in, finding that scent that is simply Steve behind the fresh paint and sweat and the lingering smell of the pizza you shared with your best friends to say thank you for their help - the first party of many in your home together. 

Steve presses his love into you with his kisses and stroking hands, thinking of the only box that matters to him; a small ring-box housing soft gold and sparkling jewels that reminded him of you. It’s not in any of the cardboard towers, or the overnight bags with the basics for your first night and morning. The little green velvet box sits heavy in his back pocket, plucked from the Beemers glove compartment while he was waving Eddie and the girls off (all of them had whispered their good luck while they hugged Steve fiercely tight).

Seeing you in tears made him second guess his timing, but as he sways with you now he couldn’t be more sure that you’re the one he wants to marry. 

“Hey. Lemme take a picture of us,” he whispers, “The disposable still has a few shots left on it. Stay there.”

“Steve I look so gross,” you whine - but you have to admit it’s a sweet suggestion. His lips meet yours and he pecks the pout away. 

“You’re beautiful,” he says in a murmur against your lips. “We can show our grandkids someday. You’n me, young and cool in our first place together.” 

Steve’s heart beats double time at your grin and he makes your nose scrunch up when he dots kisses all over your face. “Wait there. The light is..” He kisses his own fingers with an over exaggerated ‘mwah’. 

He leaves you laughing as he dodges boxes on the way to quadruple check the ring and fetch the camera. 

You had both been snapping pictures all day, pictures that would end up in a photo album with little annotations of the date and who was in each shot; Steve & Robin hugging outside their apartment before hopping in the moving van, Eddie in an Iron Maiden tee with the sleeves cut off sticking his tongue out as he carried a box under one arm, you and Nancy deep in conversation on the sidewalk, you and Steve stealing a kiss in the empty kitchen (Nancy was stealthy with that one). There were three clicks left.

When Steve arrives back you’re poking through a box of books and thinking about how you’re going to stack them on the shelves (which will be dropped off tomorrow). Your smile when you see him lights up the room already glowing with the setting sun. You both think ‘how’d I ever get this lucky’ and find your way to each other, sharing another kiss before getting your picture taken. 

Steve stands in front of the windows, tucking you under his arm as you both make the most of the golden light illuminating your tired smiling faces. After the click, he rolls the film on. 

His heart beats hard and quick with anticipation, but he’s not nervous - he has never been so sure of a decision in his entire life. You are the one; his one.

Steve places the camera on the windowsill before taking your hands. “You’re the love of my life y’know?” 

You look up and nod, squeezing his hands. “Mhm. And you’re mine. I love you so much I could scream.” You mean it too, thinking about how you could open up the window right now and shout to the city that you love Steve Michael Harrington. 

He presses a single soft kiss to your forehead. “The best day of my life was the day you smiled at me in that little dive bar, baby. Ever since then, I knew I was a goner.” He brushes his thumb over the back of your hand. “I don’t ever want anyone else. Waking up next to you every day, and going to sleep with you every night... I feel like I’m dreamin’ sometimes. Like, how’d I get this lucky?” Steve squeezes your hands three times ‘I love you’. “You’re my love, my best friend.” 

Your face hurts from smiling, about to quip that you promise not to tell Robin or Eddie, but instead you see Steve lowering himself down onto the floorboards - dropped down on one knee. 

For a moment your mind goes blank until you see that little green velvet box, which he flicks open to show you the ring inside. 

Steve says your name so quietly as he gazes up at you, “Will you marry me?” 

All capacity for speech evades you. Your focus is all on Steve, barely comprehending the gorgeous ring winking at you in his hands. Every cell of your body is screaming S T E V E. You manage to nod as more tears press and push up and spill down your cheeks. 

You let him take your hand to slide the ring on. A perfect fit. If you could think straight you would remember one of your favourite rings going missing for a week a while back - the culprit kneeling in front of you.

You pull him up this time, crushing your body to his as you babble ‘yes!’ a thousand times, even as he kisses you with his own wet cheeks pressing to yours. 

Everything feels soft around the edges, luminous and dreamlike, as you see Steve and his smile and his love for you in bright high definition. You take his face in your hands - the left one ever so slightly heavier now - and you bring your faces together. 

“Hi Future Mrs Harrington,” he whispers, each syllable filled with an almost-giggly bubbling joy. 

“Hi Mr Harrington,” you whisper back, feeling his hands squeezing your hips. You kiss him again, smiling too much to make it last pass a few slow romantic pecks and you’re just holding each other, glowing. 

In that moment everything is perfect, your previous sense of total overwhelm replaced by utter joy. Tired and still a little sweaty, dust on your jeans and your hair coming undone, you’re still the most beautiful creature Steve Harrington has ever laid eyes on - even more so now with the promise on your hand. 

Steve reaches out to take up the camera again. “Still got two more. Engagement pic for the grandkids?” he asks, and you practically squeal with delight when you realise he had it all planned. 

As he angles the camera in front of you both, hoping the light is still okay and that he’s not chopping off his own head, you hold your ring up to make sure it’s in frame. That picture, and the next one of you two sharing a kiss with diamonds glimmering in the dipping sunlight, will take pride of place in that little album of the day you moved in together, the day Steve Harrington asked you to marry him. 

Likes, comments and reblogs are absolutely cherished and adored!

Bonus next day diner breakfast Steve for the girlies - thank you for reading 🩷

[honeytae]

I can’t wait to create more memories with you.

hi my loves! so this is a super fluffy little piece about jungkook and his s/o moving in together - it starts out on moving day and there’s a little flashback to when the topic of moving in together was first brought up :) it’s overall just really cute idk i hope you guys like it <3

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy

genre: fluff

word count: 2.8k

Slowly turning the handle to enter your apartment, you tried your best to mentally prepare yourself for what you would inevitably see. That didn’t seem to work, though, since it felt like an absolute sucker-punch to the gut. 

The space looked brand new; a completely blank canvas for its next tenants.

Walking into the empty apartment you used to call your own now felt heavy instead of homey. The path to your bedroom felt routine, but slightly shaken with the absence of all your things. Photos of your family no longer occupied the walls, that little throw rug you’d picked out for the summer had been cleaned off the floor, and the various vases of flowers your boyfriend surprised you with were no longer kept front and center on the table against the wall. 

And even though those items were still in existence, even though everything was still intact and far from gone, it still made your heart clench a bit in your chest that they would no longer be here.

Rounding the corner to enter your bedroom, you leaned your shoulder against the door frame for a moment, admiring the pristine openness of your room in its empty state. You couldn’t recall it ever feeling so big.

Heaving a deep sigh, you let your legs carry your body over to the bay window, taking a seat on the ledge to peer out at the view one last time.

At the sound of Jungkook calling your name, you glanced back to the doorway of your bedroom, staring at your boyfriend as he tipped his head at your unreadable expression.

Although he’d been lifting boxes all throughout the morning and afternoon, somehow he barely looked strained. In fact, he was still annoyingly attractive. He had his grown out hair tossed back into a bun (with one of your hair ties), and he was wearing plain black shorts hidden beneath one of his many oversized t-shirts.

How he could make it all look so good, you had no idea.

“Hi.” You said, the man wordlessly approaching you with a run of his palms down his thighs, crossing the room in only a few long strides to get to your swinging legs.

“I didn’t expect to find you in here. You okay?” He asked, his brows pulled together as he took a seat beside you.

Taking a stray strand of your hair between his fingers, he pushed it back from your face, subtly analyzing the emotions written into your features with dancing pupils.

Immediately wanting to ease him, you leaned forward, pursing your lips underneath his jawline before letting your chin rest on his shoulder. 

Wrinkling your nose at the odor rising from his t-shirt, you tilted your head slightly to escape the smell, unbeknownst to Jungkook.

“You’re sweaty.” You observed, the man craning his neck to look down at you, comically raising his brows at your bluntness.

“I’ve been working!” He defended himself, making you chuckle a bit before picking your head up to smile at him.

“I know you have.” You said appreciatively, leaning forward to press your lips to his when he subtly puckered them out to you.

“Saying your goodbyes?” He offered in explanation to your presence in the apartment, having already successfully gathered every last box there was to take.

You laughed at that, nodding a bit in response.

“In a way.” You shrugged, letting your temple fall on his bicep with a sigh. Shifting your eyes down to your leg as Jungkook grabbed ahold of your thigh, you smiled as he lifted and draped it over his own thigh, drumming his pointer fingers on your muscle.

Feeling his lips purse against the top of your head, you let your eyes fall shut, the distant sound of birds outside the screened window behind you letting you zone out into a much more peaceful space than your mind had been in previously.

It was the only serene moment you’d had today. From movers bustling in and out of your apartment, your mom coming to help you label and sort all your boxes, your neighbors poking their heads in to the chaos to finally nose their way into seeing the layout of your place in comparison to theirs; it had been a lot.

“Are you gonna miss it here?” 

Peeling your eyes open at Jungkook’s sudden question, you lifted your head to properly look at him, curiosity evident in the slight widening of his eyes.

“Hm. The memories it holds, more than anything.” You answered, watching as he nodded in understanding. “I never liked the kitchen layout.” You added as an afterthought, causing the man to burst into giggles before shaking his head at you.

“I don’t think the kitchen was too bad. Although I love our kitchen.” He grinned at the emphasis he could officially put on the word, you sharing the same reaction at the phrase. Our kitchen. Our new apartment.

“I’m so excited.” You all but squealed, the man chuckling as you squeezed him tighter to you in your excitement.

“Me too.” He said, smile slightly closing his eyes as his face creased with the strength of his happiness.

“Remember how nervous you were when you first brought up moving in together?” You wondered, peeking over at the closet across the room that had started it all.

“I do.” He chuckled, making you smile as your brain took you back to the event that had taken place only a few months prior, in this very room.

“Hey.”

Looking up from the heap of clean clothes at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, you had eyed a pouty Jungkook, raising your eyebrows at his expression as his eyes briefly fixed on the clothes before focusing back on your face as he shuffled into your bedroom. 

The tone and facial expression that Jungkook greeted you with had your eyes widened slightly, examining his approaching stature, his eyes squinted at you accusingly.

“Hi.” You responded, laying Jungkook’s clean boxers on your thigh to straighten the fabric before you creased it.

“Are you hiding something from me?” He asked, causing you to tip your head in confusion as you stared back at him, bottom lip jutted out slightly. 

“Not that I know of, no.” 

Jungkook’s eyebrows raised at that, walking further into the bedroom to approach where you sat on the mattress folding a fresh load of clean clothes. 

You watched as his eyes searched the pile, sighing dejectedly before turning back toward the closet to rummage through it some more. 

“What are you up to?” You asked, Jungkook’s actions stalling only a bit when he picked up on the annoyed tone you used at his messing up of the rack of clothes in there. 

“I’m looking for my hoodie.” He explained his actions, causing you to roll your eyes behind his back. 

Jungkook seemed to have an emotional attachment to each and every one of his hoodies, even though he had hundreds to speak of. Every time you borrowed one, he tracked you down and made you give it back. 

It was never in a mean way; he only wanted his stuff returned, and you understood that. But at a certain point, it was just annoying. 

“Which one are you looking for?” 

“It’s the black one with the blue flames on the hood.” He recalled, scanning the row of clothes for the design before grunting in disapproval upon coming up empty-handed. 

Shaking your head, you sighed as you diverted your eyes back to the clothes awaiting folding. You could still hear the man rummaging through the plethora of hung items over your music, pressing your lips together in slight annoyance at the stubborn man. 

The closet in your bedroom was now a fifty-fifty split of your clothes and Jungkook’s. You couldn’t recall when he had started keeping clothes there; you suppose it just happened naturally as he spent more and more time with you. 

In fact, you were going on two years. You had picked up his habits and him some of yours, you knew all his little quirks and vice versa. Including his necessity for keeping all his precious hoodies in check. 

“Why must you fret about each and every one of your hoodies' temporary absences?” You sighed, the man mumbling an “ouch” as something fell out onto his foot. 

“Because I know someone,” he looked back to you for emphasis, “likes to steal them and then I never get them back. I swear you’re renting a storage locker for my hoodies just so I can’t find them here.” 

At his dramatics, you merely sighed again, going back to folding your t-shirt before you paused, looking up to stare at the back of his head. 

Thinking back, you could picture the black hoodie in a heap on his bedroom floor the other day, tossed aside after some activities between you two and obviously forgotten about by your boyfriend. 

“Did you check your place?” You asked, Jungkook’s actions pausing at your words before he slowly spun around to you. 

His face was plagued with guilt, cheeks full in a different kind of pout than the bratty one he’d greeted with as his sweet doe eyes came out to play. 

“Ugh, sorry.” He said, cheeks heated before he made his way over to you, landing on the mattress with his head resting on your thigh. 

You chuckled at the embarrassed pout on his face as he nestled his head into your leg, staring up at you with a ‘hmph.’

“I just can’t seem to keep track of what’s at mine or yours.” He explained, you nodding with a fond smile as you brushed hair back from his face. 

“I know. You just get so damn protective over those hoodies.” You teased, the man scrunching his nose at your cooing tone. 

“It is really difficult to keep track of what is where.” He sighed, looking up at you with a gleam in his eye that told you he was thinking something he wasn’t saying. 

“It is. What’s going on in here, baby?” You tapped your pointer finger against the crown of his head, the man smiling shyly as he grabbed your hand in his. 

“Why don’t we,” he trailed off, hoping you’d get his hint so he didn’t have to come out and actually say it. When you only stared at him in response, he sighed, shaking his head to negate what he’d been saying causing you to grab his wrist with a pout.

“Why don’t we what?” You asked, jutting your bottom lip out at the disappointed look on your boyfriends face, smoothing your thumb over the corner of his mouth to ease his frown. 

“Well, you know,” he shrugged, “since it’s so hard going back and forth between each other’s places,” he trailed off, groaning when you only smiled back at him, eyebrows raised in amusement as you waited for him to continue. 

The look on your face told him you knew. The gleam in your eye told him you knew exactly what he was trying to articulate. 

“Baby,” He groaned, realizing you were messing with him as you pulled begging eyes down at him. He removed his hand from yours, pulling it away with a pout as you chuckled at his reaction.

“What, Kook? What’s on your mind?” You continued playing dumb, wanting to drag the words you’ve been waiting so long to hear out from the man. 

“C’mon, why are you making me say it if you already know?” He whined, you giggling as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

“Because I want to hear it from you. And I like seeing you squirm.” You smirked, the man scoffing underneath you as he recaptured your hand in his own. 

“Baby, my sweet angel, the brightest star in the entire universe-“ 

“Jungkook!” You laughed, lightly squeezing his hand as you grinned down at him, his teeth shining up at you as he shyly blushed at the words in his brain. 

“Can we move in together?”

“Hm,” you hummed, the man’s eyes bulging as he slightly panicked beneath you, “give me some good reasons to.” You smirked again, your boyfriend gasping at your words before he took control, flipping you over to hover above your frame as you squealed at the sudden action. 

“You brat.” He leaned his forehead down to yours, effectively silencing you with a kiss to your lips, your fingers tickling at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“For one,” he started, “you wouldn’t have to hear me complaining about my missing hoodies anymore. I can make a mean cup of tea, I’m really good at laundry, I-”

You cut the man off with a press of your lips to his, silencing him with a muffled noise as his hand squeezed at your hip. 

“You don’t have to give me any reasons.” You mumbled against his lips, feeling them curl into a small smile as he made a noise of delighted surprise. He knew you were only teasing, but he couldn’t believe you hadn’t dragged it out longer. 

“Really?” He grinned, causing you to giggle beneath him out of sheer fondness.

“Yeah, I’ll move in with you.” 

“Really, really?” He grinned, his doe eyes sparkling at you as you nodded to confirm, laughing at the man’s goofy repetition of the question you’d already answered. 

“So, we’re actually doing this? We’re moving in together?” He raised his eyebrows, face melting into a grin as you brushed his hair back from his forehead. 

“I think we’re ready, don’t you?” You smiled, the look of absolute happiness on your boyfriends face almost making you tear up as he all but hugged you to his frame. 

“I know we’re ready, baby.” He nodded, kissing you again as you both continued smiling like idiots. 

“Wait, how do we do this?” You asked, Jungkook furrowing his brows as he pondered your question.

“Huh. I don’t know.” He chuckled, you giggling along with him before sighing in thought. 

“Do we want to look for a new apartment altogether?” You wondered aloud, Jungkook bouncing his head back and forth in thought, hair moving with his head. 

“We could. Do you really want to leave here, though?” He raised his eyebrows in surprise when you shrugged in response, raising your hand to cup his cheek lovingly.

“I don’t care where I live as long as you’re with me. What about your place?” You offered, Jungkook mirroring your earlier response with a quirk of his shoulders up to his face. 

“You’re my home.” He put simply, laughing when your bottom lip jutted into a pout, pressing kisses over your face as your eyes filled with water out of pure adoration for the man. 

At the memory, you felt your eyes water again, looking up at Jungkook with a pout. Your boyfriend, wrinkling his nose at your expression, poked at your bottom lip, tutting his tongue at you.

“What happened to not caring where you lived as long as I’m with you?” He teased, squeezing your shoulder with a smile.

“I still feel that way, Kookie.” You assured him with a grin, taking his hand as he wiggled his fingers out to you.

“Good. We’re going to create so many more memories in our new home, I promise.” He said, baring his teeth to you again as he felt you squeeze your fingers around his hand.

“I know. I can’t wait to create more memories with you.” You sighed dreamily, leaning in for another chaste kiss on the man’s tempting pout. 

“So,” he leaned his forehead against yours, “are you feeling ready to leave now?” 

His words were soft, but they weren’t spoken with tentativeness. There was obvious excitement in his tone, an emotion that had you wanting to spring off your bay window and never look back. 

“Let’s go.” You smiled, coming to a stand as Jungkook remained seated, grinning at you in amusement at your sudden change in attitude about leaving this place. 

“Alright, boss.” 

With a grunt, he came to his feet, never letting go of your hand as you made your final stroll through the apartment together. 

Passing through the years’ worth of memories within the walls, you both took a silent few steps before pausing in the entryway, giving the place one last glance before meeting each others eyes with small, matching smiles.

Turning the handle to your front door for the last time, you let the latch slide closed like you had so many times before, tick-tick tacking as it came to a secure shut.

Shutting the door behind you, simultaneously opening a new one. 

[just-here-for-the-moment]

The Wedding Night

Word count: 4900+

Rating: explicit, 18+ only

Outline: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x “You” (cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: Jack running his filthy mouth; mentions of virginity and defloration; mentions of lack of experience; gorgeous lingerie; one light spanking; fingering/F receiving; oral sex/F receiving; oral sex/M receiving; unprotected P/V sex in the context of marriage; breeding kink; mentions of anal sex; mentions of blowjobs/gagging; mentions of sex toys/dildos; alcohol; marijuana

@quica-quica-quica - My love, this is what my brain did when we talked about me writing something for you that was "Xtra filthy Whiskey with a little fluff" ... You can drag me off to horny jail now, LOL. My work here is done! :D

A very special Thank You to @babypedrito for beta-reading and absolving me of all of my horny-jail sins.

---

"Are you nervous, honey?"

"No, I don't think so... well, maybe a little. Will it hurt?"

"Oh darlin' I hope not. I'll be real gentle with you."

---

The wedding had been elegant and fun and a little flashy, just like Jack.

The sheer number of guests had been stressful, but you had been blissed out all day, letting Jack spin you around the dance floor as many times as he could at the reception. You didn't want to start your wedding night exhausted, so you and Jack had opted for a mid-morning ceremony followed by a lunch reception. Statesman had splashed out for all of the liquor and an open bar, but you had been so busy greeting your guests and smiling for pictures that you hadn't had time to sip a full glass of champagne, let alone eat anything. The minute you and Jack arrived at your honeymoon suite, he had placed an order for room service and given you orders to eat, shower, and take a nap.

God, you loved that man. He was sassy and stubborn, but he did take excellent care of you.

When you woke, the last of the evening sun was streaming through your balcony doors. You stretched and yawned. The bed was empty, so you wandered out into the sitting room. Poor Jack was half-undressed and passed out on the sofa in front of a muted football game, the TV remote rising and falling on his chest as he snored softly. You shook his arm gently, "Baby?"

His dark eyes popped open and he smiled at you. "Hey, darlin'. Did you get some rest?"

"Yeah, Jack, I did. Thank you."

"Well I can't have you all tuckered out before we even get started. Wouldn't be gentlemanly of me." He winked at you.

You smiled at him and fluttered your eyelashes. "And are we going to get started soon? I'll need to change into my wedding night ensemble."

He sat up and grabbed your arm, pulling you down onto his lap as you squealed.

"Do you have to change? You look just fine as you are, honey."

You laughed. You had napped in an old undershirt of Jack's and nothing else except your wedding and engagement rings. You cooed softly at him as you rubbed your hand against his chest. "But Jack, baby, I bought it just for tonight. We only get to do this once, and I wanted to make it special for you."

He scowled as if he wanted to say no. You decided to pout your lower lip out just a little and sweeten your voice. "Please, baby? Please let me wear my special lingerie for you. It's my first request as your wife."

He pretended that he was giving in resentfully. "Alright, darlin'. If it'll make you happy."

You kissed him on the tip of his nose. "Oh, Jack. I think we'll both be very happy." You stood up off his lap and he swatted your bottom playfully.

"Now, now. None of that." You shook one finger at him playfully. "Just give me a few minutes and you can go lie down in the bedroom while I get ready. I'll meet you in there."

You bounced into the bedroom to grab what you needed, then locked yourself in the bathroom to freshen up. You heard Jack groan as he stretched and got up from the couch, soft footsteps moving to the bedroom. You caught your own eyes in the mirror and grinned. This was going to be so good.

It didn't take you long to get dressed, because your wedding night "ensemble" consisted of just three pieces. You had purchased an ivory-white babydoll nightgown with a big satin bow centered between the lace cups. The gown's skirt was billowy and entirely sheer, and the satin-ribbon hem hit you just at the top of your thighs. The back featured a slit from the band all the way down, forming a flyaway opening. There was a matching ivory lace thong with an open crotch, and you had found coordinating ivory marabou slippers with a kitten heel to tie things off. You were dressed in two minutes. All that was left was a quick touch-up of perfume and mascara, and a few deep breaths.

You opened the door a crack and called out to him. "You ready, baby? No peeking!"

"I'm not peeking."

You poked your head out to see Jack sitting against the pillows on the king-sized bed, hands dutifully placed over both eyes. You slunk out the door and stood at the foot of the bed, tucking and tugging the last tiny adjustments to your outfit. You put your fists on your hips and smiled at him. "Okay, you can look now."

Jack pulled his hands away and you saw his eyes take a half-second to refocus on you. When they did, his jaw dropped. He gave you one long look up and down, and you giggled and spun once to give him the full picture.

"Baby doll," he bit his lip and looked hungry. "You look good enough to eat. You did all that for me?"

You laughed. "All what, Jack? There's hardly any material here."

"Don't I know it." He whistled, long and low. "You want me to leave it all on or rip it off of you?"

You gasped and giggled. "You know I don't know what I'm doing. I guess I'll have to let you decide."

“Oh, baby girl... ” he shook his head and got up off the bed. “I don’t know if I can be in charge of such an important decision.”

“Well then, let’s just play it by ear and we can decide later.” You cocked an eyebrow at him as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Because I am eager to get started.”

He smirked at you and tilted his head. “Is that so?”

“Yes, it’s one of the benefits of being Mrs. Jack Daniels. Now that you’ve made me an honest woman, I finally get to see what all the fuss is about.” You smiled shyly. “Unless, you don’t want to?”

“Now hold on a minute darlin’. You know I’ve been looking forward to tonight.” He kissed you. “I just want to do it right, that’s all. I wanna do right by my wife her first time.”

You bit your lip and looked up at him through your eyelashes. “I know you do, baby. I trust you.”

"Are you nervous, honey?"

"No, I don't think so... well, maybe a little. Will it hurt?"

"Oh darlin' I hope not. I'll be real gentle with you."

You smiled and leaned in for a kiss. Jack held you tenderly, taking his time and working your mouth slowly open before plunging in with an eager tongue. The kiss was nothing new to you. You and Jack had kissed like this hundreds of times… but now you were husband and wife, and it was your wedding night.

You let yourself melt into Jack’s embrace, and when the kissing got so good that you moaned, he smiled against your mouth. He moved his lips to plant kisses on your cheek and jaw and neck, murmuring to you in his low, gravelly drawl. “Are you ready?”

You nodded, and then released a breathy, “Yes, Jack. Yes, I’m so ready. Can we please go to bed?”

He pulled back. “Well, I need to know you’re really ready. We only get to do this once.”

You considered for a moment, biting your lip. “I do, I want to. But I’m a little nervous. Can I have some champagne? Just to relax.”

He nodded. “Okay, just one glass though.”

“Thank you, baby. I just want to relax a little bit, not get drunk or anything. I want to remember tonight for the rest of my life.”

He kissed your forehead. “Me, too darlin’.”

You sat on the bed as Jack went out to the living room to retrieve one of the “his and hers” champagne bottles that Champ had sent over, and two champagne flutes. He popped the bottle open and poured two glasses, then sat next to you on the bed.

“Cheers,” you said as you clinked your glass against his. “To us.”

“To us.” Jack sipped his champagne and wrapped his other arm around you, rubbing lazy circles into your back with his thumb. You loved his thick fingers and strong hands. You had seen what they could do with a dangerous whip and lasso, and you trusted him utterly with every part of your body.

When your glasses were empty, you felt a little looser, the edges of your nerves just barely blurred. You smiled at him and handed him your glass to set down on the bedside table. “I’m ready.”

He tucked his head down toward you, slotting his mouth over yours for a deep kiss. “Okay, we’ll get started. Lie down on the bed for me. Scoot back a little.” Jack stood up and faced you.

You lay back and scooted up so that your feet were flat on the bed. The hem of your nightgown slid up and pooled across your hips. Jack kneeled down on the plush carpet and stroked your leg with one strong hand. He lifted one foot and kissed the inside of your ankle softly. You shivered, and he repeated the action with your other ankle.

“Can I take these off?” He tapped the top of one slipper.

You lifted your head to look down at him. “Oh, yeah, sorry. I guess you should take them off.”

“Ain’t nothing to be sorry about, honey. You look amazing.” He slipped them off gently and tossed them theatrically over his shoulders, making you laugh.

“What should I do with my hands?” You wanted to know if you should be doing something other than leaving them palm-side down on the bedspread next to your hips. It felt stiff and awkward.

“Just relax,” said Jack. “You’re doin’ fine.”

You nodded, laying your head back down as he resumed stroking your shin.

“Can I touch you?” He slid his fingers a little higher, grazing the inside of your knee.

“Yes, please.”

He ran his fingers up to the inside of your thigh, sweeping your skin with a soft touch. Each graze of his fingers set your skin on fire, and you felt your anticipation build. You were getting wet; you could feel it, and you knew that it would help with what was coming next.

Jack paused his touch at the outer band of your thong, just at your pelvic bone. “Do you want to leave this on or take it off?

“I don’t know. Um, it’s crotchless, does that make a difference?”

“Not right now, but if it gets uncomfortable we can take it off.”

“Okay, just leave it on then... and thank you.”

“For what?” Jack stroked your lace-covered mound slowly. Little sparks of electricity flew everywhere, buzzing outward from wherever his fingers touched.

“For taking such good care of me. Especially on our wedding night.”

“Oh darlin’, I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he drawled. “I’ll take care of you for the rest of my life. I love you.”

“Oh Jack,” you sighed. “I love you, too.”

“I’m going to touch you between your legs now. Just breathe and relax, okay?”

“Okay.”

You felt Jack’s fingers stroke down over your clit and pet you softly there through the lace before moving down. He hooked a strap of the open crotch with his finger and pulled it to the side. The pad of one thick finger paused at your outer labia and you bit the inside of your mouth nervously.

“You ready?” Jack sounded calm.

“Yes, please, baby. Please touch me.”

He answered by spreading your outer lips open and rubbing a line gently up and down over the inner labia, spreading moisture as he went. You were practically dripping for him. He pressed one finger against your opening and applied gentle pressure, letting your slick do the work of guiding his fingertip inside. You felt his thick finger enter slowly, and when it was finally all the way in you exhaled.

“Is that okay, darlin’?”

“Yes,” you breathed out. “Yes, you feel so good.”

“Okay, I’m going to put another one in. You tell me if it’s too much for you, honey.”

“Yes, Jack.”

He pulled his finger out to the tip and you felt its neighbor join it. The pair pressed into you again, slower than ever. You felt so good, all of your nerve endings sparkling, the wetness growing and growing as Jack worked you open. You could do this forever.

“How are you doing, honey?”

Your voice came out half-whisper, half-gasp. “Ohhhh, Jackie. I feel so good.”

“You sure feel good down here, darlin’. Makes me want to taste you.”

“You can do that?”

“Yes, ma’am. If you give me the go-ahead, I’ll eat you out like a Sunday dinner.”

You laughed, and more tension left your body. “Okay. Yes, please eat me… Wait, can I call it that?”

“If you let me do it, you can call it whatever you want.” He chuckled. “You ready?”

“Oh yes.” You flung your arms up over your head and stretched. “I’m ready, baby.”

Jack left both fingers inserted and used his free hand to open the straps of your thong wider. You felt cool air hit your clitoris and you shuddered. Then Jack’s warm lips met your intimate center and you moaned.

“Oh, Jackie. You feel so good. I can’t believe we’ve never done this before.”

He pulled back, sounding almost plaintive. “You said you wanted to wait until the wedding night, darlin’. I was just followin’ orders.”

“Well I’m glad we’re doing it now.”

“Me, too.” He kissed your clitoris again and you gasped. The contact sent sparks racing up your spine. Your legs shook and threatened to close around his head.

“Keep ‘em open for me, darlin’. I want to see this pretty pussy as I taste it.”

You shifted your feet a little further apart. “Is this good?”

“Oh, it’s good, honey. You should see yourself, all spread out for me on our weddin’ night. If I’d known you were going to look like this, I would’ve married you the day we met.”

You lifted your head to look down at him again. “Are you going to keep talking, or are you gonna eat me?”

He didn’t answer, but plunged his tongue out to flick your clit . Your hips bucked and he pulled his fingers out gently. He reached up and tugged at the front of your thong. “Can I take this off? It’ll be easier access.”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

He hooked the side straps away from your hips and you lifted your butt to help him slide it off. He threw it to the side and wrapped his strong grip around your thighs as he lowered his mouth to you again.

His kisses and licks were urgent, an open-mouthed assault on your tender and swollen pussy as you writhed and squeaked. His iron grip on your upper legs kept you anchored to him, even as you shifted across the bedspread. You had no sense of time passing; it could have been seconds or minutes later when you felt your orgasm build until you thought you were going to snap.

“Jack! Oh fuck... Jack, I’m gonna come. I’m coming for you now!” Your moans and shouts didn’t phase him, he just kept licking and slurping at you as your pussy throbbed and clenched around his tongue. He slowed his pace just a little as you climaxed, and kept holding you tight as he kissed you more gently, bringing you down with him as you finally relaxed.

You came back to yourself after a few moments, your breathing slowing into something more normal. Jack lifted his head and relaxed his grip on you. “How was that, honey?”

“Oh, Jesus, Jack,” you gasped. “For chrissakes. I think I saw stars.”

He chuckled and stood up. His face was wet from nose to chin, mustache slick, hair mussed and eyes twinkling. He was absolutely wicked. You couldn’t believe he was finally yours.

You sat up and hugged him around his waist, resting one ear against his tummy. “Ohhh, thank you, Jack. That was absolutely wonderful.”

He petted your hair as you squeezed him. “You’re welcome, baby girl. Do you feel good?”

“Yes, Jack. Oh, I feel amazing.”

“Do you want to try now?”

You pulled away and looked up at him, eager to try anything he wanted. “Try what?”

Jack took a half step back and shed his suit pants, then his undershirt and briefs and socks. You watched as he undressed, taking in the sight of his strong arms and hands. Your eyes widened at the sight of his cock, growing bigger by the second. When he was naked he gave himself a few lazy pumps and then cupped your chin with his free hand. He looked deep into your eyes with that calm, authoritative manner of his.

“You just kiss it around the tip a little and then open your mouth, darlin’. I’ll show you what to do after that.”

You grinned and nodded up at him. “Okay.”

You looked back down at him, at his fist wrapped around the base of his hard, dark cock. Every pump of his heart was sending more blood to his erection. The head of his penis was nearly maroon, and you wanted more than anything to give him the release he had given you so freely.

You leaned forward hesitantly and placed a few soft kisses to the sides of the head, next to the slit of him that was growing damp. Tiny pecks turned into softer smooches, and Jack waited patiently while you got your fill of the experience. The sensation of his velvety skin on your lips was enticing, and you found yourself moaning and drawing out the kisses for longer and longer.

Finally Jack tapped your shoulder, indicating you to stop. He brought his large hand up to cup your chin gently. “You ready, honey? You can open up if you’re ready to try.”

You nodded and opened your mouth obediently, as wide as you could, tongue hanging out. Jack laughed gently.

“Relax, darlin’. You don’t have to unhinge your jaw. Just open up like you’re going to take a taste of something delicious, ‘cause you are.”

You relaxed, letting your mouth close a bit. Jack placed the tip of his penis just inside your lips and took his hand off your jaw. He let it rest on your tongue and then he slowly slid it from side to side as he shifted just a bit deeper.

“You can suck on it if you want, real gentle.” Jack’s voice was encouraging, his drawl low and husky.

You closed your lips gently around the head and gave one experimental suck, like a lollipop. Jack pumped his fist up and down gently, “That’s it, darlin’, real slow and soft.”

You switched between soft sucks of the head and open-mouthed licks, feeling awfully pleased at the huffy breaths and moans that were coming out of Jacks’ mouth above you.

“God, honeybee. Is this your first time giving a man a blowjob?”

“Mmm-hmm,” you hummed.

“Well, darlin’ you’re doing just fine.” Jack brought his free hand to cup the back of your head. “Are you ready to go deeper?”

You flicked your eyes up to him, giving him a wide, innocent stare as you pulled off. “Deeper? How deep does it go?”

“Oh, all the way, darlin’. I think you can fit all of me into that sinful little mouth of yours.”

You looked from his dark eyes to his penis and back again. “Are you sure? I won’t choke on it?”

“Oh, no. I’ll be gentle, honey. We’ll go real slow and get you used to it.”

You nodded and opened your mouth again. Jack placed the head of his penis back on your tongue and you closed your lips gently around it. He removed his fist and then placed both hands on the sides of your head.

“Go slow, honey.”

You looked back up at him to see that he was gazing at you tenderly, enchanted by the sight of his cock disappearing into your soft mouth. He grinned softly at you. “Just go slow.”

You closed your eyes so that you could concentrate on it. He held your head gently between his big hands as you relaxed your jaw and throat, trying to take him as deep as you could. When the head hit the back of your tongue, Jack held it there and moaned soft praises to you.

“Oh baby girl, you are just perfect. Look how I fit in that sweet little mouth of yours.”

You glowed at his praises and pressed just a bit deeper. When the head hit the back of your throat, Jack made a soft hiss and pulled himself out.

You looked at him with wide eyes. “Did I do okay, baby?”

“Oh honey, yes. You did great, but if we keep doing that I’m not gonna last long, and we won’t get to the main event.”

You giggled. “Okay, where do you want me baby?”

“Why don’t you lie back on those big pillows and just relax, darlin’.”

You scooted up to the top of the bed and lay flat. “Like this?”

“Yes, darlin’. Just like that, pretty as a picture.” Jack knelt on the bed and crawled up to you. He reminded you of some jungle cat stalking its prey. He was going to devour you.

“Do I need to take my nightgown off?”

“Only if you want to, but it won’t get in my way.”

You nodded. “Then I’ll leave it on, I like it.”

“That’s fine with me, honey. Are you ready for me?”

You nodded vigorously. “Yes, Jack. I’ve been waiting so long. Please.”

He lay next to you and stroked you from hip to breast, cupping you through the lace before running his hand back down. He lifted the hem of your nightgown and pressed two thick fingers to your entrance. “You’re still so wet for me, but I have lube if you need it.”

You shook your head, “No, I think I’ll be okay.”

He assented. “Alright, but if you need it, you just say so and I’ll stop.”

“Okay, baby.” You cupped his jaw and kissed him deeply. “I love you, my husband.”

His face broke into a soft smile. “And I love my wife. Can’t believe I’m so lucky.”

“To find a virgin for your wedding night? Something special to deflower, that no one else has ever touched?”

“No, just to find you.” He kissed your forehead. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Even if you weren’t a virgin I’d still love you, still be the luckiest man alive to have you on my wedding night.”

Tears sprang to your eyes at his tender words, threatening to overspill. “Oh, Jack. I love you so much.”

He continued caressing you with his fingers. “I love you, honey. You think you’re ready for me now?”

“Yes, Jack, please please please. Right now.”

“Alright.” He shifted up to hover over you. “Just open your legs and relax your hips. I’ll be extra gentle.”

You did as he asked, releasing one slow breath out through an o-shaped mouth. He pressed the tip of his penis to your opening, then looked at you one last time with eyebrows raised for permission. You nodded and said, “Go ahead.”

He pressed in slowly, stretching you open. He felt so big and hard and glorious as he slid between your walls. The wetness in your core provided so much glide that he got all the way inside before you even realized it. He bottomed out and stopped, holding himself up on his arms to look into your eyes. You could feel your own slick mixed with Jack’s saliva drip down between your cheeks.

“Are you alright, darlin?”

You smiled, “Oh, I’m more than alright, Jack. My husband just took my virginity on our wedding night.”

He leaned down and kissed you. “I’m going to start moving in and out now, but if you need me to stop, just say so.”

You nodded. Jack started easing his hips in and out, and you could feel every steel inch of him sliding in and out. You felt another orgasm starting to build. “Oh, Jackie, I think I’m going to come for you again. Can you touch me down there?”

He shifted back to his knees and reached one broad thumb to swipe your clit. “God, honey, you’re so wet for me.”

You barely heard him as the room started to get fuzzy. You felt the dam threaten to burst, and you managed to gasp out, “I’m co-” before you bucked your hips again and came hard, clenching around his cock as he slowly pumped in and out.

“Oh fuck, baby girl. You should see yourself. That greedy little pussy is trying to eat me alive. I’m not gonna last much longer. Can I go faster?”

You moaned, “Oh my god, yes. Go for it.”

Jack took his finger off your clit and pumped just a little faster. “Oh fuck, baby girl. Where do you want me to come?”

“Inside, Jack. We’re man and wife now. You can fill me up and I’ll give you gorgeous babies.”

“Oh honey, I just want to fuck you and watch you get so round. You’re going to be pregnant before you know it.”

“Yes, Jack! Yes!”

“You gonna have my babies? You want all of me?” His words were exhaled in rough gasps. “I’m gonna fuck a baby into you. You won’t be able to get rid of me, you gorgeous girl. Gonna carry a part of me around with you for the rest of your days.”

You felt one more impossible rush of slick dripping from your pussy at his words, and you simply moaned, incapable of speech.

Jack suddenly fell onto you, face buried in your neck, and you felt him thrust hard and then stop. Something hot was releasing inside your pussy, and you whimpered and stroked the back of his head.

“Oh, Jack. I think I love you.”

He groaned into your shoulder, the words muffled. “I love you, too, darlin’.”

---

“Jesus Christ, Jack. That was amazing.” You took a sip of your champagne and passed the joint over to his side of the bed. “That was better than that time in Cancún!”

Jack laughed and choked on his toke, then passed it back to you. “God, I loved Cancún.” He took a long drink of champagne. “Was that the time I fucked you so hard the neighbors called the cops?”

You giggled. “No, that was that shitty little hostel in Amsterdam while we were on assignment, remember?” You took another puff and thought while you held it in, then you blew out a long string of smoke. “No, wait, it was Belgium.”

“That was fun.” Jack grinned to himself. “Remember Italy?”

“Which time? The yacht off the coast, or that blow job outside the Colosseum that one time at 3 a.m.?” You passed the weed back to him.

“Oh, Christ, honeybee. I forgot about the Colosseum.” He took a long toke and another thoughtful sip from his glass. “But that yacht was fucking amazing. I was balls-deep in you under that blue Mediterranean sky. God, you were so sexy in that little swimsuit you were wearing. Made me wanna marry you right there.”

“Aw, you old softie. You’re such a sweetheart.”

He handed the roach back to you to finish. “Remember L.A.? You looked so good gagging on my cock in that bathroom, mascara runnin’ all down your face. I almost felt bad it was a convenience store. I should have taken you back to the hotel first.”

“No way! That was hot. I had that plug in my ass all day, and you did me just fine when we got back. I couldn’t sit right for three days.” You threw your head back and laughed, nearly upsetting the bottle of champagne and the Altoids tin full of joints sitting on your lap.

Jack reached a hand out to steady the bottle. You fished a fresh joint out of the tin and closed the lid. A thought occurred to you as you lit it.

You exhaled and turned to him with wide eyes. “Holy shit, Jack. I should’ve bought my vibrating panties. Maybe we can run out tomorrow and buy a new pair.”

“Nah, they never get you off right. You said they move around too much.” He took the joint from you and drained the last of his champagne. “How about a new vibrator instead?”

“Okay, but tomorrow night it’s your turn to be the virgin.”

He exhaled a huge lungful of smoke and passed the joint back to you, waving his hand to indicate he was done. “Alright, but you have to promise not to be gentle. Can we do college professor and failing student?”

“Mmmm…” you thought for a moment. “Yes, but only if I get to spank you.”

“You got it, honey.”

You leaned over and kissed him. “God, I love my husband.”

He smiled at you and took your empty glass. “I love you, darlin’.”

--- Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

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[diavolosthots]

Something I know a lot of creators deal with is durn out. So how would baby boy beel deal with mc just crashing after months of just going on and stong with everything around them. Fluff and love. Also much love to you.

I didn't know if you meant like... Creator MC or not but I made MC a painter in this because why not. The painter part of the fandom needs to be recognized

Burn out ( BEELZEBUB X GN!PAINTER!MC )

To be completely honest, you have felt so exhausted for days now. Between RAD and the paintings you tried to find relaxation in, and the brothers’ constant nagging, your body was starting to feel burned out. You would never admit that out loud, though, no. You were too prideful and a tad bit too stubborn for that to ever leave your lips, and for a while it didn’t matter; you still pushed through. You did hours of school and then school work, tried to fix everyone’s relationships with each other, and then still found time to sit down and do what you love.

At first, it was even helping. To unwind after a long day and get lost in the mixes of colors on a white canvas; to just sit there as you held way too many different brushes to count and let your creativity just flow. But it got to the point where you used it as an escape for everything going on. When Lucifer and Satan argued, or Mammon’s screams and loud footsteps filled the hallways, or Leviathan lost another game and yelled at his computers. All those times where those things happened, you turned to another empty canvas that you filled up, followed by another. It was fine, again, at first, but you slowly started to notice that your little escape seemed more like a job you unknowingly and unwillingly picked up somewhere along the way. 

You were absent more often, trying to fill your time with paints and images that came to mind, but after using your love for art as an escape for weeks now, your room was filled with art, but creativity left your heart. It was frustrating now, to sit there and look at a blank canvas knowing it should be filled with a picture, a person; anything really! It angered you to feel so… empty right now, as if your brain had just shut off. How were you supposed to escape when the door to your escape wasn’t opening anymore?

Beelzebub noticed, of course. Your change in mood was evident. You were cranky, mad at the world but never anyone specific in it. Angry that you had to find a new escape from everything, although you didn’t want to. You sighed a lot, trying to find your creativity again but every time you entered your room now and you stared at the pictures already painted and the canvases yet to be filled, you just got depressed. It was sad to watch you disappear into your room with a dark cloud over your head, and also just reappear with gloom surrounding you; at least to him it was. He pondered on what it could be for a while, knowing that in a sense, it was everything. 

His pondering changed after a few days though. He didn’t ponder about what it could be, but how he could change it. He decided, and he means well in this, to ask Lucifer for some human sweets, which he managed not to eat the whole way to your room. A smile grazed his features as he held them in his arms, ready to surprise and deliver them to you in hopes that they would do at least a little to make you feel better. Upon arrival to your room, though, and upon opening the door, he saw how messy you were. He watched, for a second, just staring at you staring at the white canvas. “(Y/N)?” His voice caught you off guard, your head snapping up to look at him and finding him standing there with a bag full of sweets. 

Your first thought was of what he would be doing here, but the concern in his eyes told you that he had finally caught onto your scheme. “Beel…” You really didn’t know what to say as he laid the sweets down on your bed and came up behind you, a soft hand resting on your shoulder. Had it already been this long that someone found it concerning? To you, it had only been a few days. To him, however, it seemed way too long ago that he last heard your laugh, or yelling at his brothers, or really anything from your end. “I brought some human food… I thought it might cheer you up.”

You smiled softly; of course he would opt for food even in this situation. “I’m not… really sad, Beel, just frustrated.” You could feel his arms sneak around your shoulders, hugging you back against his chest as you let out a sigh. “My creativity just stopped…” it was a soft whine on your end, and under any other circumstance, he might’ve laughed at it, found it cute, but right now it just caused even more concern. “Well… I don’t know a lot about that… but maybe you should take a break.” A break? You couldn’t possibly take a break when there’s still so many canvases to fill; so many stories to paint, “I can’t just take a break… this is supposed to be my break!”

He frowned at your words, slowly letting you go and leaning back to look at you. You turned around to face him in response. “What do you mean break?” You sighed, looking down. It was hard to tell him that you needed a break from all of them, well… maybe not Beel, he never really did anything, but he was always there with them when things happened, so maybe him too? You didn’t know. “I just… everything is so frustrating. RAD, and you guys…. You always seem to argue and I always seem to be the one fixing it, so I started to paint more as an escape, you know? To take a break from everyone, but now my break is starting to turn into a chore and it’s… it’s just so frustrating…” 

You didn’t know when the tears had started to form in your eyes, or when they seemed to fall, but the demon in front of you was quick to catch them, “Hey… don’t cry…” In all honesty, he wasn’t quite sure why you were crying or how to help, but it did ache his heart to see you so down. A hug, maybe…? He tried it, engulfing you in his big arms and just squishing your face into his chest. “I’m sorry.. It’s dumb… I can’t even paint anymore… maybe I’m dumb…” your sons were quieted by his firm chest, sniffles lost in the fabric of his shirt and he squeezed you against him, thumb stroking over your back ever so gently. Your words made him glare into nothingness, but he knew better than to push you away in such a vulnerable state. 

“You’re not dumb, (Y/N). I think you might’ve just burned yourself out. We can be a lot, and we know that. Honestly I’m surprised you managed to stretch yourself this thin before you tried to escape us.... You’re just stressing your brain too much, take a few days to relax.” Somewhere, you knew he was right, that it was indeed just burnout, but you still cried against him for a while longer before you allowed yourself to calm down, “maybe… I think you’re right..” He smiled softly to himself, proud that he figured you out, even if just a little bit. 

“Great. I think the first thing to do is distract your mind. Maybe you could tell me about all the food I brought? I can’t hold back much longer, but I really want to hear what they are.” You laughed, looking up at him with red, puffy eyes and a cute little grin, “always making it about food… yes, sure. Let’s do that.” 

[carnelianns]

Unnerving (Mitsuhide Akechi)

Genre: Humour, Fluff

Word Count: 1.6k+

A/N: a day in the life of mitsuhide akechi.. as a child. there’s barely any mentions of mc cos the ask wasn’t centered on that so... also it wasn’t specified so i jus made it like this :>

Unnerving...

Is the first thing Mitsuhide thinks when he looks down upon his tiny form, one being swept up by the flimsy fit of his now oversized sleepwear.

Now he usually isn’t the type of person to panic over, well, any situation, really, but his current predicament admittedly has him staring at himself for a good few minutes before owning up to it, sighing belatedly.

With golden eyes seemingly far too big to hold such a daunting expression and lips too small to harbor a smile of malice, Mitsuhide can only ignore his problem, doing his best to keep his questions of why he’s stuck like this at rest.

Like this, meaning like a child.

Although I do wish the gods bestowed upon me this wonderful blessing on another day. There’s a sarcasm only he can hear in his thought as he trudges towards a certain room in the Azuchi Castle in some hurriedly bought kimono — one his maids hesitantly asked him if he needed assistance in putting on. He did not take their offer.

(He wishes he didn’t, but it was far too late, and there’s a very thin line between being “fashionably late” and receiving one of Hideyoshi’s lectures.)

After much confusion from the guards guarding the Castle — and for good reason; he’s currently a child, after all — Mitsuhide makes his way towards the meeting room, sliding the shoji open, the welcoming chatter of the other warlords filling his small ears.

“Mitsuhide, you’re finally here! I told you not to be late—”

“... Lord Mitsuhide?”

“Huh.”

“What the fuck.”

“Masamune, language!”

“What a warm welcome.” He smiles, ignoring the numerous pairs of eyes on him as he takes his seat. “I apologise for being late, my lord. I was in a bit of a.. predicament.”

Nobunaga’s blank look slowly morphs into a slight smirk, only bringing Mitsuhide’s eye to twitch ever-so slightly.

“I must say, Mitsuhide, you do look rather.. small today.”

He’s never really thought of flooring his lord, though he does admit it passes his mind at times. This is one of those times.

“And if I may kindly ask, what the fuck.” Masamune’s voice rings in his ear, the child in question turning his head to his side to see a confused yet slightly grinning fiend. 

Everyone seems so punchable today… I wonder why.

“Masamune, language!”

“I said kindly this time,” he argues, turning back with a shit-eating grin. “Are you really Mitsuhide? You look.. tiny.”

No one asked for your opinion, you intolerable troll. His insults do seem a bit childish today. Mitsuhide’s quite glad his brain-to-mouth filter is still working properly, though.

“Yes, I agree, he does look a bit smaller today. Perhaps I need new glasses..?” 

Or you need a new brain. The innocent way in which Mitsunari rubs his eyes only brings the man in question to clench his jaw infinitesimally.

“I woke up like this is the truth. You may not believe me but,” the enigmatic smirk on Mitsuhide’s face grows even more as he meets the eyes of every participant in the room. “I could care less. So, shall we start?”

Silence drones through the room for a few moments before being broken by a few snickers. Nobunaga is letting out a hearty laugh, Masamune’s chuckling whilst pinching the child’s cheek, and Hideyoshi has his hands clasped together, almost as if muttering a prayer.

“Don’t say such things with that look on your face. It’s..” Ieyasu pauses, grimacing. “Disgusting. Please.”

“Lord Ieyasu used the word please! He must be desperate.”

“Shut up, Mitsunari.”

The council finally starts after a few more painstaking minutes.

Mitsuhide absolutely detests being in a child's body. It’s his biggest takeaway from today. In all honesty, he thought he could go about as if there was nothing wrong. 

He, in fact, could not. The poor man couldn’t even take a single step without getting called out. 

“Hey, shortie, what’s the weather like down there?”

“Masamune, I ask you to kindly leave before you lose your other eye.”

The man in question snickers, only ruffling Mitsuhide’s hair like one does a child’s — which is exactly what he is.

The action only brings a grimace to his normally smirking face.

“Tough talk for a little fella like yourself, don’t you think?”

Masamune managed to leave without a single scratch on his body. Fortunately.

Really, just what in the world happened for him to turn into this.. monstrosity? He’s quite confident in his looks, but he does admit that his past self does have some chubbiness in—

“Ack! I’m so sorry! You were just so small, I didn’t see you there.”

Mitsuhide manages a smile. “It would have been better if you left the last part out, Mitsunari.”

There’s a visible change in those violet eyes of his, almost as if much more focused and determined than before. “Lord Mitsuhide, if you’d like, I can stay with you as to ensure you do not face the same—”

“I would not like that.”

Mitsunari recoils slightly at his tone, before nodding solemnly. “Alright.”

When he finally makes his way towards the kitchen for some water, he bumps into yet another person. Now, he honestly has nothing against Hideyoshi, but the way the man’s eyeing him as if he could quite so literally break any second now was a bit unsettling. Just a tiny bit. 

Mitsuhide barely reaches up for a cup when the Mother Hen says, “Do you need help with that?”

Almost automatically… Mitsuhide visibly shudders, just a tiny bit.

“Though I do appreciate your kindness, I’ll’ have to decline. I’m not a child, Hideyoshi.”

There’s a complete and utter silence as they exchange looks. It’s as if a thousand words were attacking the young child from those bright, emerald orbs of his comrade.

Almost pleadingly, “... You are.”

Almost defeatedly, “... I am.”

Hideyoshi helps him with his cup of water. An unspoken agreement to never speak of this again was made. 

And just right before he was about to leave the Azuchi Castle, a summon from his lord was received. Of course, the man is in no position to say no, so Mitsuhide trudges with his tiny, five year old legs towards his lord’s chambers with numerous thoughts about what could possibly be the topic of their conversation running through his head. 

… Having a tea party with Oda Nobunaga was not one of them. 

“My lord, if I may ask, why are we sharing tea right now?” He inquires carefully after a while, gratefully accepting the konpeito coming from Nobunaga’s large and calloused hands.

“Do you not enjoy it?”

Just when a few lines of denial were about to tumble out of his mouth, Nobunaga — laughs, only causing amber eyes to widen slightly. 

“You just looked awfully tiny like this. It brought back memories.”

The simple words betray the way his lord’s eyes softened for just a split second. Just like how it did when they were children. 

Memories of loud laughter and booming yells, of days spent in the fields and innocent games of hide and seek flood his mind.

“... I see.” Is all he can say.

After peacefully — albeit quite awkwardly as well — chatting with the daimyo for a few more minutes, Mitsuhide finally acquires the signal to leave. Bowing one last time, he slides the shoji closed, making his way towards the entrance of the Castle. 

Slowing down ever-so slightly, he notices how everything just seems so much.. bigger. How his steps feel lighter, how the stars almost shined brighter against their dark canvas. 

It’s as if being reverted to a child brings him back the slightest bit of child-like innocence as well. 

“Mitsuhide.” 

He’s brought out of his thoughts when a familiar voice fills his ears, instantly being bombarded by a flash of yellow. A displeasing shade of yellow, really. Just the shade. He thinks.

It’s as if being reverted to a child brings him back the slightest bit of hostility as well. Not that he’ll admit it, of course.

“To what do I owe this lovely pleasure, Ieyasu?” He ignores the slight sarcasm in his own tone. 

The taller man only sighs, shoving a piece of paper into his tiny hands. Mitsuhide catches a grimace on his face as he averts his gaze, wide eyes moving towards the many scribbles on the crumpled paper.

“I researched why you’re.. in this form again.” Ieyasu starts walking away, his back turned. “I want you to turn back quicker.”

There’s the slightest tinge of pink on his ears, and Mitsuhide smirks wide at finally being granted the upperhand.

“It seems as though you wish for me to return back to normal, Ieyasu. I’m flattered; do you miss my adult self that much?”

A loud scoff resonates through the halls, the man in question not bothering to turn back. “I’d rather die than say that.”

The sound of his footsteps come to a halt after a few more moments, and from what Mitsuhide sees, it’s as if the man is weighing out his words at the end of the hallway.

Finally, he hears, “You’re just disturbing to look at in this form. To see a child tangled up in all this mess is…”

Mitsuhide wakes up the next day as himself, as the conniving warlord, the cunning fox. He’s glad that he’s back, glad that he’s finally an adult once more. Yet why is there that particular emptiness in his chest, thinking of what was, of what could have been?

(Of the times without war and without blood, withought fights and without betrayal. Without the loss of innocence, without the loss that comes with being an adult.)

He drowns these away, before it’s him that’s drowning.

There’s a few thoughts in his head, leftovers from the fever dream that was yesterday. Although only one remains as he stares at the clumsy mess of a girl, far too pure and far too.. breakable for this world. 

Dragged into this hell after innocently saving his lord’s life. 

His heart almost aches. Almost. He finds he doesn’t really have a heart capable of doing so.

To see a child tangled up in all this mess is… unnerving.

[caroline18mars]

A Man On Fire - Chapter 82

But Jared stayed right where he was, curling and twirling around Chloe on that improvised dancefloor full of tired, drunk friends, she looked at the scene in front of her on her way back to the table, it was actually adorable, somehow it was rare to see Jay this frivolous, rare but heartwarming. “Everything ok?” Cooper sat down again next to her, “sure” she tried not to mumble or look distressed, but she was, “I can see why you and LA don’t mix, this city is full of actors, so you’re definitely out of place here” grinning, he took a swig from his bottle of beer. “Trouble in paradise, I can tell, I’m a good listener you know” he leaned back in his chair, not taking his eyes off her, “I’m sure you are, but I’m not as good a talker..the only thing I can truly confide in is chocolate, I’ve got some dessert left, want one?” she got up again, feeling a little uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “Sure” he shrugged as she instantly headed for the kitchen, just getting my thoughts together, just a minute to myself, she opened the fridge reaching for the chocolate cake, “uhm, while you’re at it, give us another bottle of vodka will ya?” the voice behind her startled her so much she nearly let the plate with the cake slip out of her hands. “Oh..” she spun around to see the spitting image of that other girl who was dancing with Jared outside, “here you go” she took the bottle out of the fridge “you must be..Marie-Lou?” she forced a smile, “yup, and you’ve been hanging around my man all night” the girl snapped at her and then turned with a dramatic flip of her hair rushing out of the kitchen without giving Harper any more attention. Slowly and in a bit of a shock she closed the fridge door, had she been suggesting that she spent too much time tonight with her boyfriend? Please no more misunderstandings, ever since Sean, she was so done with them, wait how did Sean slip back into her mind? Where was he now? And how was he? Why do I even care? She shook her head and carried on filling up two plates with chocolate cake before she walked out into the crisp evening air again. “I..uhm..met Marie-Lou” she put the plate in front of Cooper but found him too wrapped up in an animated conversation with the guy next to him, so she sat down and pushed a spoonful of chocolate cake in her mouth while she looked sighing at the party in full swing in front of her, connection lost again, story of her frikkin life.

”You really love chocolate cake, don't you?” Cooper turned his attention back to Harper who put her fork back on her empty plate, “treading on thin ice here , buddy, I really don't need to hear you say out loud what is bubbling through your mind, yes I actually eat, I'm definitely no LA woman, there I said it out loud, can we move on now?”. Cooper leaned back in his seat with a grin, this is one feisty, little firecracker, I actually like her, she's such a breath of fresh air, “ok, moving on then, don't you get jealous seeing all these women throw themselves at Jared's feet?”. Harper looked at the dancefloor where her man was the centre of attention “Jared will always attract attention, I guess I've learned to live with it, the only ones jealous are those girls out there, they’re jealous because they’re not in a relationship with him and I am and that’s an entirely different ballgame” she sighed as she pushed another piece of cake in her mouth. “I’ve always wondered if Jared is into twins, I mean look at Marie-Lou and Chloe” Cooper didn’t seem the least bit affected by his lover’s and her sister’s grinding against Jared, “you must have one kinky sex life”, his wide grin and his assumption annoyed her. “First, my sex life is nobody’s business, second: why don’t you ask Marie-Lou that question? Sounds like you’re the one fantasizing about Marie-Lou and her sister” she calmly said watching his jaw drop, ha, the shoe was on the other foot now. “Marie-Lou? You obviously don’t know her, Marie-Lou is..well, let’s say she’s not the most passionate woman alive” he sniggered, finding himself extremely funny. “You’re right, I can’t say that I know her, but I’ve met her in the kitchen just now and she’s definitely passionate about you, she said I’ve been hanging around you all night and she didn’t seem to pleased with that” Harper took a few sips looking at Cooper’s reaction, was that a smirk?. “Oh really?” his lip curled into a smile while his eyes drifted over to his lover “never confuse passion with jealousy, I told you, passionate relationships are so early 20th century..I can honestly say I’ve never had one of those, do you?” the way he squinted his eyes and bit his lip made her shiver. Before she could even think of an answer, he did “Maybe we should ask Jared that question, he’s more of an early 20th century guy isn’t he? I mean he’s pushing on 50 so he’s had quite the experience with women”. Harper shifted in her seat, don’t show him you’re getting agitated, too late, “ah there he is, the man of the hour” Cooper looked up at Jared approaching their side of the table.

”I missed you” he pushed a kiss on her lips that tasted of alcohol and his skin smelled of expensive women's perfume, no wonder with how the girls had been rubbing themselves against him under the pretence of dancing. When they came up for air, her eyes connected with those burning ones of Cooper, “I thought you were going to come dance with me” he whispered when he straightened his back, “hey Cooper” he casually said turning his head slightly to greet Cooper, but deep down he felt a twang of jealousy burn, a good looking young guy who was clearly as fascinated by Harper as he was, a man with a brain too, and she was a sucker for those, “hey Jay, you lucky bastard” Cooper greeted him with a little grin. Jared pulled a chair up and strategically sat down in between them, you're not gonna dig your claws into her, back off! “must have been quite the conversation if you can keep my woman away from a dancefloor” in his voice this hint of venom that didn't go unnoticed by any of them. “Funny you ask because we were actually talking about passionate relationships and how they're so 20th century, an era we all know you're very familiar with” Cooper licked his lips before he took a sip from his glass. Don’t do it, just let him stew in all his obvious sarcasm, let it slide..too late “ah, the 20th century, yes I remember it well, see the good thing about being my age is knowing what you want and don’t want, especially in love, it took me until my late forties to find the woman of my dreams but I’m finally 100% sure I found her, unlike you millennials who have to fuck every friend you have, hoping someone will stick because you don’t know how to treat or satisfy someone because you’re all too wrapped up in yourself and the image you want to create, see, there’s no ‘I’ in the word ‘love’, is there? so yeah, I’m happy I’m a hopeless 20th century romantic..” he mockingly raised his eyebrow. Everyone in a one metre radius could feel the tension rise, so Harper quickly intervened “Well, this millennial sure has no complaints about her hopeless 20th century romantic” she quickly crawled on his lap and then whispered in his ear “and can I just say that this millennial can’t wait for this party to be over so I can get a good fucking tonight” before she kissed him. She could feel him relax instantly, a crisis avoided, nice work Harper, but the actual action she wasn’t too sure of yet with all these alcohol drenched kisses but it was a fact that she needed to be shot back to life, some lovin’ would surely get her head out of this mental fog and her creative juices flowing again. “Why wait? Why don’t you go upstairs now and I’ll come fuck your brains out in a few minutes” he whispered back at her with a little lick of her earlobe, “so far for my 20th century god of romance” she giggled, normally she would have just brushed it off because they had a whole lot of company, but not this time, she needed action and she needed it right now. “I’m just going to get some more wine” Harper got up, Jared’s eyes shooting daggers at Cooper who thoroughly checked out her glorious body, “sure yeah” Jared nervously shuffled in his seat and tried to hide his imminent arousal while she walked back to the house, rocking those hips just a little too obvious.

The cold water on her burning cheeks made her hiss, where was he? He said he was going to be up soon..she dried her face sitting down on the edge of the bath and quickly pushed away the blinders, nope, nowhere to be seen, she’d been waiting up here for him for 20 minutes..oh there he was, oh for fuck’s sakes..she watched him being dragged back on the danceflour by those horrible twins. Right, done anticipating,  pfffff, get up, just get up Harper, she pushed herself back up on her feet and walked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her, she so didn’t want to go back to that party again..so instead of walking down the stairs, she took a right and wandered through the dark corridor. The moonlight falling on her blank canvases in her studio drew her in, the smell of her oils and solvent wafting up to her, why didn’t anyone make a perfume out of those? She would be the first to buy it. She sat down in the bay window watching her canvases..blank, blankblankblank, blank..would she ever feel inspired again? Not as long as the sweltering heat of LA kept melting her brain, she had told herself over and over again to stop obsessing over how her new home blocked her creative vibe but every time she picked up a brush and lathered it up, nothing but nonsense would appear on the canvas. Try again? Sure, why not? She grabbed a brush and some paint, here goes nothing..nothing at all.. a softly whispered “oh my..” startled her, Jared?? Nope..Cooper..slowly walking into the room, not able to keep his eyes off the mess on the canvas. “I actually get to see the master paint..I can certainly tick that off my bucket list” he softly said with eyes like saucers “that is amazing, Harper..”, Harper leaned back a bit, stared at her painting and then at him “huh? Maybe you should get your eyes checked because this is just..bs” she huffed putting her brush down. Cooper just ignored her and walked to the back of the room where some of her older work rested on the floor “I don’t know what to say..this is mindblowing..seeing it in a catalogue is one thing but seeing it here, touching it is next level..you know, all those art critics were wrong..” he let his finger run over one of the canvases making her cringe, don’t do that, never touch a painting with your probably dirty fingers. “Critics can call you the new rising star in the art world, but you’re a new fuckin’ universe, this is spectacular” he stood up again and stared at her, “oh come on, I meant it when I said you need to get your eyes checked, if you call that art, then why do I feel like a one-trick pony?” she snapped before she stomped over to the bay window again and sat down in the moonlight. “Ok..” he sat down next to her “wanna talk about it?” she was just in time to move away from his hand that hovered over her knee, “not really?” she mumbled staring out the window, she so needed Jared right now instead of this man, but he was still too busy partying down there, at least that’s what she thought because he was nowhere to be seen. “LA, right? I don’t get it, why don’t you try and think of it as NY but with a lot more heat and humidity?” he grinned “if you ask me, I think the problem is not really LA as a city that is blocking your creativity, I think it’s you that is blocking her own creativity because you agreed to leave NY for a guy and that is against every single one of your principles”. What? Why were her cheeks burning all of a sudden? fuck! “oh really? Listen mister, I wouldn’t give up your dayjob just yet in this ridiculous quest of becoming a shrink” she huffed again, “oh come on, why so defensive all of a sudden, could it be because I’m right?” this time he shuffled closer, one hand wrapping around her shoulder and the other hand landing on her knee. Jared rushed up the stairs, where the hell was she? Not in his bedroom, not in the bathroom,  he followed the light that came streaming out of her studio “Babe, I’m so sorry, I..” he barged in but stopped in his tracks when he was greeted by her being glued against Cooper “what the hell..”

[illogicalplanet]

Illogical Planet

Chapter 1.1

Flying down the atmosphere, ejecting clouds of pink mist, two marbles race towards each other at incidental angles. Clack!! A sound rings through, sharp and instrumental, and the two marbles scatter away from each other. They scurry the ground, which is yet blank as a canvas, unpainted and uninfluenced. 

As the pink marble clatters against the ground, its stuttering trail sparks yellow. From the spark grows hairs of emerald grass. 

From the impacts of the blue marble expand light blue concrete, fanning out like ripples. The two marbles spin over and over, and then, slowly the clacks become fewer… After sounding one last clack, each marble tilts. And then, with a burst, feet sprout from the sides.

“Eyah!” The blue marble yelps as they kick up their legs. The legs and feet are covered in fur; blue, soft, and scribbly. Four white talons flick out from their digits. Their violet pants, baggy and inflated, appear from the marble next. And then another textile; beige and sizable; surfaces. It’s what you might call a hoodie in human words, or a poncho. And finally, the marble swirls like a hurricane. With a pop, it meshes into a head. 

The head, blue-furred as well, has ears that point up then fall back down like a tent, fur dangling at the end. A three-holed snout sprouts on the face, and two glowing yellow eyes snap open. Prostate and shocked, the being swallows and shakes their head. 

What’s this smooth, organic texture under their hand? Their face says. They gawp at the beige ground underneath them, and scurry their eyes around at the glowing sun-like plants around them. Panicking, they look up, and sigh in relief. They recognize --although with some oddity -- the orange, electrical lights above their head. Traffic lights, as the being might have called them, except there’s a pinch in their throats at the fact that the traffic lights swing on nightly green vines.

Meanwhile…

“Ek?!” The pink marble shrikes as they tip over from the imbalance. They desperately flail. Their smooth feet, brown and bare, distort space and protrude from the marble like stems squirming out of a crack between bark. Above their knees, blue pants with a floral pattern flap violently as they fumble with gravity. A pink shirt roars out of the marble, swirling...And with a pop, it flashes into a small head with wheat-yellow hair clinging to the scalp, and shrinked, astonished pupils. Sprawled on the ground, the figure bulges their eyes nervously at the unfamiliar surroundings. Luckily, the being finds a momentary relief in the organic, smooth texture brushing their arm, and their eyelids rest comfortably when seeing the familiar golden mushrooms. But their face heats up, dizzy when they see the glowing gems swinging from the vines, which they cannot recognize.

The two shake themselves and stand up, struggling in their new limbs. 

Then their eyes meet.

The yellow-haired being yells. “Ahh!!!” Having just gotten up, they clumsily fall back down again, and throw their arms in front of their face. The blue-furred also crosses their arms in front of their face.

Slowly, the two peek from behind their palms. 

“Huh??” The yellow-haired being gasps, hanging their jaw.

“Wha-?!” The blue-furred being’s eyes bulge. They cough. “You’re… “me”…?” 

The wind wavers. The yellow haired being, confused, shakes their head. They slap the same words back at the blue-furred being.

“And you’re… “me!” Then, they see their own body, and their hair rises on end. They scramble their hands all along their head, their armpits, their legs. “And what is this? And I’m all brown! And where is my fur!?” They stutter. 

The blue-furred being is busy tearing their blue body with their eyes as well. “And I’m all furry! And what’s with the huge nose?”

“Hey!” The yellow-haired being interjects.

The blue-furred being replies nervously. “And.. why are you in that body?”

An fiery shock strikes through the yellow-haired being. “Why are you in that body?”

The two lock eyes, sweat trickling down their head wetly. 

“You’re me…” the blue-furred being began, “but you’re... in my daydream body…”

The yellow-haired being drops their hands in surprise, impressed. “Huh! Well you’re me… but what I wish to be…” 

The blue-furred being whimpers. They shudder. Suddenly, the yellow-haired being takes a step. The blue-furred being belatedly realizes that the yellow-haired being is becoming larger because they are walking towards them. So now, naturally, they are zero steps apart. 

“What are you doing?” The blue-furred being stammers nervously.

The yellow-haired being stares into their yellow eyes gravely. 

“...Who are you?...Is this a dream?”

“Who am I??” The blue-furred being flits their eyes. “I’m…” but their head appears to be convoluted with panic and confusion; they can’t fish out even their name from their own brain. If this is their brain in the first place. It’s not a dream. It feels too real. “...And I’m not a dream.” They unintentionally finish their sentence out loud. The yellow-haired being is too close for comfort. Their eyes are screwed together.

The golden mushrooms sway their polkadot light. It reflects off the shimmering ring of water around them. Neither move. Then, the yellow-haired being makes the slightest shift with their arm.

Like a slice of wind, the blue-furred being swivels and runs. The other snaps backwards. The blue-furred being is already small in the distance. They call out to them. 

“Wait! Where are you going? Come back!!” 

The blue-furred yells back with clenched eyes. “NO!!”

“WHAT?!” The yellow-haired being cries. But the blue-furred being turns the corner behind a stacked, black, geometric tower, and slips into the misty light. 

“Oh wow…. You’re gone... ” The yellow-haired being mutters. They shake their head. “I was too direct, my mistake... What is going on…?” They pass their gaze on to the surroundings. “And what is this place?”

[eternaljouska]

A Million Years Ago - Kim Taehyung

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Fluff-ish

Word Count: 2,098

The sky is of the deepest blue sea, absent from any creatures. Although the moon, the stars, and the clouds do not belong to that living category, they prosper still in the dark of your mind. It is just one of those days. People were talking too loudly, and the city lights were shining too brightly, emphasizing the empty space within you now that they are gone. How you wish that the moon, the stars, and the clouds would migrate from your head to your chest, filling up every void and painting a new sky of your own. But your heart is a blank canvas of blue and darkness, very much a duplicate to the stretch lying above you.

You are presenting yourself to the night outside the balcony of your hotel room, your head resting atop the body of the guitar you are playing. Your fingers are gently picking the strings of your guitar one by one, moving from one fret to another and eliciting a melancholic set of melodies. When the night had become quiet, you decided that you would break its silence by making your own sound. Therefore probably tonight, those melodies are enough to light some dark corners inside your heart. And in that case, you would not have to kill the sky civilization for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Oh, how I wish I were a dexterous painter instead of a reverse virtuoso.

The sound of strings ends abruptly as you pick at them with fervor the last time. The hollowness you tried to stuff with notes only grows and fills you to the brim. Your hand falls from your guitar to your side, completely giving up and allowing the silence and nothingness swallow you whole. But before they are able to pour out from your mouth and paint the night onto every patch of your skin, a black butterfly emerges from its chrysalis inside your abdomen at the crisp sound of someone’s short chuckle.

“Rough day, huh?”

You raise your head to your left in a start, meeting the face of a young man sitting on top of the wide brick railing of the next room’s balcony. His face adorns a smile that is although gentle and sincere-looking, still unable to hide the amusement that he feels.

“That was some depressive notes you played there,” he teases, nodding his head towards your guitar. “Mind sharing?”

“How- How long have you been there?” you inquire as an attempt to disregard the stranger’s apparent lack of a sense of individuals’ privacy.

He simply shrugs, “Long enough.”

A frown is formed in the middle of your forehead as you stand up, ready to walk back to your room. But the stranger leaps forward from where he was and lands beside you. You squeal and jump back in surprise, earning you another chuckle from him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You hold your guitar in front of you like a shield. The boy is already in front of you, blocking the only entrance from the balcony to your room.

“Doing you a favor. Don’t worry, my name’s V. I’m a good boy.” V grins and offers you his hand to shake as if letting you know his single-letter name and claiming himself as a good boy will reassure you that he means no harm. “Actually… You can call me Taehyung instead. Yeah, I would very much prefer you call me that.”

“I don’t care about your name. It doesn’t help you gain my trust or anything. And who the fuck has two names like that, anyway? And you said you’re doing me a favor, then why are you still standing on my way?”

“Um, newsflash? A lot. And can we minimize the profanity here? Thank you. Also, the favor I’m talking about is making sure you won’t sleep yourself to death.”

“What?”

“Yes. So tell me what’s going on, that way I can be convinced to leave you unsupervised.”

“Again, what?”

The young man lets out a long sigh before he enters your room and closes the glass door on you.

“Hey! What the fuck is going on with you? You’re breaking an entry! Open the door!” you badger, hitting on the door powerfully and then weakly in a fear that it would break under the force of your palms.

“I told you to keep the profanity to a minimum,” he tuts, “and I’m not breaking an entry. I entered the room peacefully. It’s… It’s pretty cold outside, don’t you think? Why don’t you go in?”

“Because you lock me out, you jerk! Open this door now!”

“Well… you know what to do.” Taehyung walks deeper into your room, away from your view from outside. And before you even snap out another hey, he comes back with one of your pillows, hugging them while crossing his feet and settling down in front of you. “Spill.”

You groan because evidently this Taehyung boy definitely knows no boundary. As you look down at him with a raised eyebrow, you bring the hand that is not holding your guitar to your hip, challenging him. But when after a few long minutes the boy still innocently sits and stares up at you like a puppy, you sigh, admitting your defeat and quickly mirroring his current position, but without the comfort of a pillow like he has. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.” You can tell from his short reply and the light on his eyes that he is excited to win this mini-game he set up. You send him a glare deadly enough for him to rephrase his answer. “You looked and sounded so depressed, why?”

“And I don’t look and sound depressed now?”

“No, you look annoyed.”

“Yeah, I wonder why.”

Taehyung ignores your remark and places his head on top of your pillow, trying to get comfortable as if readying himself for a bedtime story. “Go on. Start talking. We don’t have all night.”

You send him another glare before voicing out your half-truth, “The sky’s too depressing, and I became depressed. I was trying to fill the night with music, but my music’s just as depressing. I had wished I were a painter instead of an inept musician. Just so I could paint the sky with neon colors and all those festivities.”

“Vague,” he states, squinting his eyes as a sign that he is seriously weighing your words, “and unconvincing. But I’ll take it. And hey! I’m a painter! Wanna go see my works in my room?”  The young man stands up and goes away from your sight again, leaving you dumbfounded in your position. There is a click sound from somewhere in your room that causes you to rise in alert, trying your best to peer inside.

“Hey, stranger? Where are you?” You repeat your question a few times, but there is no answer from him. You wait anxiously as you press your ear to the glass door, straining to hear any sign of Taehyung. It is approximately ten seconds after that any sound is registered by your auditory sense, a noise interrupting the bleak, silent night.

“Hey, I’m over here.”

You turn your head to the now familiar voice on your right, and your jaw drops in an instant. As it turns out, the noise was coming from one verily annoying and intrusive boy who introduced himself as V or Taehyung. He is now back at his own balcony.

“You! Why are you there? How could you- How am I- You locked me out, you stupid!”

“You can use this to enter,” he answers matter-of-factly, raising your room card and flaunting it in front of you.

You look at him incredulously. The irritation that you feel is beginning to transform into the kind of frustration that wets your eyes. “Seriously? What do you want?”

Apparently, this does not escape Taehyung’s attention. He sighs before motioning you forward. “Come here.” Any mirth disappears from his eyes, and it is replaced by genuine worry.

You walk closer to him sluggishly and mumble, “What?” You are tired and just want him to stop already.

Taehyung offers his hand to you and when you only look at him with a frown, he instructs, “Climb. Imma take you to my room.”

“What?”

“Let me show you my paintings, and I promise you can have your keycard back. I promise.”

The layout of his room is, of course, the same as yours. What makes it different is the number of easels and canvas spread around the room. The room itself is not messy, which comes as a shock to you since he definitely looks like an artsy kind of guy but not the neat type.

Taehyung guides you to each of his paintings and tells you the backstory of them. Even though you would prefer expressionism over his style that leans more towards abstractionism, you still can tell that he is good at what he is doing. But your wearied brain prevents you from really focusing on Taehyung’s voice or his painting. You give the room a once over before you hold out your hand out to him.

“Key.”

“Huh?” Taehyung’s face looks confused for a second before he recovers from his interrupted storytelling. “Oh. Do you feel better now?”

“Was any of these”—your hands make a waving gesture in the general direction of him and his painting—“supposed to make me feel any better?”

Taehyung lowers his head and plays with the hem of his black t-shirt. “I- I’m sorry. I just thought it would help you not think about your problem.” He sounds like a petulant kid who does not really want to admit that he is wrong. His voice is lower than it had been the whole night as if to hide what he wants to say.  It reminds you of the sound of a bass guitar, deep and reverberating through the air and then resonating with the strings of your heart, successfully transferring his guilt and making you feel guilty also.

You take a long breath and rub your eyes with the palm of your hands, attempting a more hospitable approach. “Why do you care so much?”

Your slightly gentler voice makes Taehyung snaps his head back up. “Oh? You remind me of someone I know,” he replies, a smile already growing on his face.

“Is that all?”

“Nope. Now let me send you to your room.” Taehyung grabs your hand and takes you out from his room and to the front of your door. “Here.” He encloses your card with your palm before giving you a knowing smile. Everything seems to be playing out twice from its original speed. You cannot comprehend what has happened or even what is happening right now that he changes his mind so quickly as to let you go. None of whatever he has done from the moment he interrupted your mini pity party has succeeded in improving your mood. So if his original plan was to do just that, he has obviously failed, which gives him all the reasons to keep you in his room—if you use his absolutely obtuse head for thinking, of course. And also, it is not like you would stay with him without putting up some fight. Actually, why would you even consider giving up to that crooked logic of his at all?

“Why are you smiling and looking at me like that?”

The smile on his face is quick to transform into a square grin as he leans forward, placing his lips so close to your ears that you feel shivers running down your spine. “You should’ve paid attention to my art tour, Y/n. It hurt that the name Taehyung didn’t ring a bell for you,” he whispers while looking at you sideways. He takes a step back from you and revels in your bemused expression. When you cannot conjure up any reply for him after some time, he turns his body slightly so that he can walk backwards to his room, his gaze still locked with yours. “When it finally does, knock at this door”—he knocks at his own door twice as to demonstrate what he means—“and tell me the entire truth of tonight.”

Taehyung opens his door and enters his room slowly, still walking backward. “Kim Taehyung, Vante,” he says before disappearing behind the wooden door, leaving you stupefied with the recollection of tonight’s events and the echo of his name from another starless night of what feels like a million years ago.

[danganxastrologyimagines]

Ryoma, Yusuke, Futaba, Kirumi, and Miu with s/o who struggles with sodium valproate syndrome (more deets in first paragraph)

Basically, I have a condition that acts as a barrier between me doing well in classes, keeping friends and being by myself with my own thoughts due to my emotional state. I don’t have any distinctive facial features, nor do I have any of the associated problems, like heart and bone conditions. So people think I’m just antisocial bc I feel like it, when I truthfully feel embarrassed by my emotions. My brother also has the condition and he has a LOT of the obvious physical signs of the condition. 

-Mod Miu

Ryoma Hoshi:

He was drawn to you due to how distant you were to people. It was almost as if you had something you were hiding, either due to embarrassment or due to not wanting to be found guilty of something.

You didn’t have many people you showed your more vulnerable side with, and you seemed fine with just getting straight C’s. Ryoma did, however, notice how long you would lie in bed doing nothing for the first 2 hours of the morning. He also spotted how people spoke about you behind your back, making the assumption that you were simply a “self-centred brat”.

So, He wants your point of view. He could tell by looking at you that you had something going on emotionally, he just couldn’t quite identify why.

“Hey, s/o.” He growled out casually. “Come over after your stuff is done and we can hang out or whatever.”

You felt your ears tingle in a familiar yet vague warmth. You hated the feeling your ears got whenever you could tell you were going to get told off.

So, you hesitantly agreed to do so.

Arriving at his apartment, he walks you through into his office.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” Ryoma started.

There went your ears again. Your body tenses up, preparing to get told the same stuff your ex-friend said to you.

“I noticed how long it takes you to get ready for the day.” Ryoma stated. “It’s almost like you don’t care about yourself.”

You started to cry, expecting Ryoma to just tell you to grow up like everyone else had done with you.

“I haven’t heard nice things about you lately, s/o. I can tell you’re deliberately sabotaging your social life.”  Ryoma lets out in a sigh, rubbing his temples. “So please tell me what’s going on.”

You pause, looking down at your feet.

“I suck at embracing my emotions.” You let out, unsure how to explain your next sentence. “I’ve always struggled with it, and I know why I am the way I am.”

You take a deep breath, expecting Ryoma to chew your ear off with you not looking like the condition.

“I’ve got a condition that acts as a barrier with emotions for me. It has a lot of other things to it, but I somehow only picked up shitty emotional stuff. I’ve got sodium valproate syndrome, Ryoma, and I’ve been working hard at it to deal with the condition.” You let out, knowing it’s been stuck in your mind for ages. “If you don’t believe me, I seriously don’t care. I’ve had enough people only going to easy answers.”

Ryoma doesn’t change his expression at all after hearing this, but internally he was glad that you at least knew why you struggled with emotions. Additionally, he was glad you didn’t have a recent traumatic emotional experience.

He makes sure to support you with what you need, and your happy Ryoma is as open as he is.

Yusuke Kitagawa:

You and Yusuke got together because you were both classed as difficult to read. After all, both of you had straight faces, and it was rare to see you guys smiling.

However, Yusuke was more open about his strange personality than you were. It became apparent that you struggled more with your emotions than others did. You could maintain an average appearance, but Yusuke did note how little you would study in favour for distracting yourself from your emotions.

One day, when you returned from school to get away from your inferiority complex, Yusuke sent you a message inviting you over to act as a model for a new painting he was working on. He had everyone else involved as models as well, and you  found an excuse not to go.

“Ah, dear! Come in, I’m glad you came.” Yusuke let out softly, letting you in as he closed the door.

You noted the lack of art supplies in the room, and this set you off into a bad state. 

“Ah, I forgot to get the canvas out.” Yusuke let out, placing the blank canvas on the stand. “Now, my dear, please take a seat and we can get started. Would you like something to drink as I paint you?”

You politely turn down the offer, placing yourself down.

“Tell me about what’s going on in your mind, s.o.” Yusuke started as he painted you. 

You started to slump in the chair you were sitting up in, letting out a shaky sigh.

“I’ve always struggled with my emotions, Yusuke. I recently found out I was diagnosed as a child with a condition that explains this to me.” You start.

Yusuke looks at you, curious about what condition you had.

Explaining the condition, you allowed Yusuke to listen and watched for any negative reactions.

Unsurprisingly, he hid any bad facial expressions.

“I see.” He let out after you explained it. 

He was slightly more forceful, yet encouraging, as he invited you out for any friend gatherings. He now knew why you didn’t like to be alone, while you were very quiet for an extrovert.

Futaba Sakura: gonna write as a friend instead of s/o

You were originally the person that supported her to get better with controlling her anxiety, and you now were the best of friends. Her quirkiness would improve your mood almost immediately, and the few times she wasn’t with you she sent you loads of memes.

You never had to really tell her about your condition for her to understand how you were, as she understood what mental health is like.

There were some times when you would get overwhelmed with emotions, and Futaba would be able to pull you out of your daze before it became uncontrollable in the moment.

She found that when she needed to go out, she would always feel safe by your side due to how analytical you were of your surroundings as well as how good you were at preventing harassers due to experience.

Both of you needed the other as a friend, and this created a strong bond. She was there if you needed someone to sit with you, and you were there to help Futaba in public situations.

Kirumi Tojo:

She didn’t see you for a few days, and she was getting worried. Knowing where your spare key was, she lets herself into the house while announcing herself to you.

You heard her, but you just didn’t have the mental energy to sprint into a hiding place.

Of course, even if you did this, you knew Kirumi would hear your rustling into your chosen hiding place. So, you just layed in bed. It had been days since you took proper care of yourself.

“s/o, I’m coming into your room now.” Kirumi warned you, entering the room that was unkempt. 

“Is everything okay?” Kirumi queries, rubbing your shoulder.

You just look at the blank white ceiling.

Kirumi cleaned your room with your permission before coming through with herbal tea and talking to you about your condition, as well as how it affects people differently and how others have misconceptions about how the condition is identified.

After you explain yourself, Kirumi reassures you that she is open with knowing about people’s health, as well as appreciating your co-operation in helping her understand a complex condition that had mental and physical effects on a person’s well-being.

Miu Iruma:

Miu was outspoken, while you were introverted. Both of you didn’t like to show emotions like sadness to others, as it made you look vulnerable and/or like you wanted to play a victim in a situation.

For the most part, you were able to hold back the urge to cry.

Until it became uncontrollable at times. Once time Keebo was saying things, comparing you to him in the way of not showing a vulnerable side. Miu was around the corner as she heard Keebo say “Maybe you are a robot like me, and you’re embarassed about it.” triumphantly. 

Miu knew what he was talking about, and it pissed her off to hear him of all people talking to you in the way he was. She was disappointed in him for thinking as analytically, until she realised you were a rather analytical person as well.

She walks up to the two of you, stopping when she’s next to you and she realises you’re starting to tear up because of the confrontation.

“Jeez, you sound like Kokichi when you say that, Keeboy!” Miu exclaimed. “Let’s just talk about what’s going  on in that big fuckin brain of yours s/o!”

You eventually spoke about the many difficulties you grew up with, also stating you managed to not be put in a special unit like your sibling did, who was less fortunate with their academics but more fortunate with emotions.

Once you explained yourself, Miu raised her brows. 

“Jesus christ, that explains shit!” Miu exclaims. 

“I must apologise for my comments, s/o.” Keebo sheepishly let out, rubbing the back of his head.

You got a closer connection to Keebo, and Miu was more understanding of you as a person.

[xbananaleensyo]

Numb Calls and Dumb Walls

Ship: Ohmtoonz

Warnings: Depictions of mental illness/dissociation, mentions of trauma

Words: 2,754

Summary: There was a lot of things that Cartoonz didn’t understand. Dissociation? What is that? But damnit there was one thing he knew: he loved his boyfriend and he’ll help him cope any way he can.

A/N: So I’ll mention this again, if you’re sensitive to the topics above I suggest not giving this a read. I want you to be safe. This was, more or less, a coping fic of some sort that I wrote on a bad day. It's also not a universal depiction of what's happening. Kinda based it mostly on my own experiences and some accounts I read online but everyone is different. Also, also these are real grounding exercises if you wanna research those! They’re pretty niffty for like anxiety and stuff. But before this note gets too long: any likes/reblogs/comments are highly appreciated! And I hope ye enjoy! Have a nice day, yo

              Cartoonz was in love with Ohmwrecker. In turn, that means he cared deeply about him and vice versa. Ohm was a beautiful man in his eyes. He had so much compassion to give, so much information in his head, so many laughs and witty comebacks between his lips. He was proud to be his boyfriend. But, unsurprisingly, Ohm had faults, he had demons, he had nightmares. And Cartoonz knew that. Everyone experienced pain, afterall. He was willing to work with them, however. It was the only way to go forward in their relationship. Even if it was something he didn’t understand at first. Ohm seemed to notice that too. They needed to let each other in one day. That’s why they were here, sitting on Ohm’s bed, as he confesses that his brain was, as he calls it, ‘a little weird’. It was a new world to Cartoonz, talks of mental illness and trauma was only something he advocated for but not something he actually experienced. But now he was sitting there, Ohm in his lap holding down tears, as he explains the troubles of his mind and past life. Ohm doesn’t like to remember it, or his brain doesn’t like to remember it, so it doesn’t at times. It flights.

              Ohm calls it “checking out”. He said this is what he called it before he figured out what it really was. Ohm describes it as being there but not really being there. Like you’re slowly shutting down but never completely off. Time doesn’t exist. Nothing exists except the numbing wave he drowns in and the thoughts that sometimes float with him. He can fake ‘normal’ if he tries, he says, but it never looks or feels as genuine no matter how hard he pushes it. He can escape after awhile but some days his body just gives up. He found it relaxing but at the same time anxiety-inducing and frustrating when he can’t get out. “I have stuff to do, things to feel and I can’t get to them when I’m like that. I don’t like it when I’m like that.” Ohm admits, biting his bottom lip. Cartoonz brushes his lip out from under his teeth before he makes it bleed.

              When Cartoonz first saw it happening with his own eyes he was scared. He didn’t know what to do. His body was there but Ohm wasn’t. His face was a blank canvas without all the pretty expressions he knew Ohm made. His eyes held nothing, his tone was forced. It was scary that someone that didn’t know him too well probably couldn’t tell the difference. And when Ohm finally snapped out of it a couple hours later, he was surprised it was evening. He was surprised at Cartoonz’s panicked expression.

              “Toony, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…” Ohm started stuttering. But Cartoonz just shook his head. It wasn’t his fault, it was things that happened to him that were at fault. The trauma that he had no control over. They spent that night talking about what happened and assuring Ohm that he’s not just crazy. Cartoonz didn’t care that he had to wash his shirt afterwards.

              “I think…I think I know how you can help. But you have to be patient.” Ohm admitted one night during dinner. Cartoonz stopped the mouthful he was about to eat and gave Ohm his full attention. “I know you’re scared to touch me when I’m in that state…but please, just touch me. I’ve realized it’s easy to pull myself out when there’s something tangible I can ground myself on. Just remind me to come back to reality. Remind me there is a reality to come back to…” Ohm’s breath started to stagger. These things were never easy for him to talk about. Cartoonz walked around the table to Ohm’s side, kneeled down and grasped his hands. He kissed Ohm’s cheek, reminding him if he needed him to hold on, he’ll never let go.

              Cartoonz learned a lot of stuff along the year he’s been with Ohm. It was a lot of trial and error and a lot of learning for both parties. It was a lot of studying and working around things. But things are worth it when it came to his boyfriend.

              Sometimes, there was signs when something was wrong. Like when Ohm loses interest in things or when he starts to pull away and isolate himself. That’s usually when the walls start happening, the wall that cuts him off from the world in front of him. The wall that contains him in his lost space. Ohm says his focus usually starts getting fuzzy when he gets overwhelmed or when he has a flashback. But since it’s impossible for Cartoonz to foresee things like that they came up with a color system to communicate with. Code: Lime Green (Ohm’s favorite color) when he was good. Code: Grey when he was in-between. Code: Orange when he was anxious. Code: Blue when he was depressed. And finally, Code: Black when the numbness takes him. The same color as nothingness. Whatever color, Cartoonz still loved Ohm but it’s obvious that Cartoonz’s, and Ohm’s of course, favorite days were when they were fully engulfed in each other, enjoying the world, Ohm whispering ‘Lime Green’ over and over again.

               Today, for some reason, felt off for Cartoonz. It wasn’t like his routine was any different. He woke up, went to the bathroom, fed his cat and went for a quick run. Then he ate breakfast, nursed his hot coffee while he texted Ohm his daily morning text. Ohm responded with a heart and a link to an article he found interesting. Today was a work day, which meant he was going to spend most of it recording, responding to emails and messages, and doing final edits before setting the videos live. It was a productive day but there was just something in his stomach that was telling him something was off. He felt off-balanced in a way. He quickly looked at the clock, realizing it was time to call Ohm and ask him what they wanted to do for dinner. Ohm hasn’t texted him since the afternoon. That was a common thing though. It was something that happened a lot when they were both too engrossed in their work to talk but Cartoonz couldn’t help but think about the feeling in his stomach that he had all day. He started to worry when Ohm didn’t answer his call. On his second call, however, he answered on the fourth ring.

              “Hello?” Cartoonz swallowed at the low, indifferent voice.

              “Ohm? Is everything okay?” There was slow breathing on the other line until a raspy voice appeared.

              “…Luke…Black…” And then the line was dead. Cartoonz pocketed his phone, grabbed his keys and a jacket and was out the door.

              When he arrived at Ohm’s house, he saw the familiar tell-tale signs of a Code: Black. The blinds were closed which was unusual because Ryan likes to open the windows to let the spring breeze in during the morning. All the lights in the house were off even though it was nearing sunset and the faint glow of the sun was no good. As he neared Ryan’s door, he realized the front porch light wasn’t even set. Luke lifted the third potted plant that was near the porch swing, finding the spare key that was there just for him. He entered the house, finding it cold and quiet.

              “Ryan? Are you here?” he called, turning on all the lights as he went and boosting up the thermostat. A jingling of bells answered him instead as Tiny starts galloping towards Luke from the hallway.

              “Hey there, boy. Been keeping your Dad company while I was gone? Where’s your owner? Where’s Ryan?” Luke scratches the small dog’s chin, getting excited licks up his palm. Tiny whimpers at the mention of his owner. He barks and heads toward the hallway, looking back every once in awhile to make sure Cartoonz was following. He’s brought to Ohm’s office, where the man in question is sitting in his gaming chair in the middle of the room. The only thing illuminating the room were the duel screens from his PC set-up showing that he was in the middle of editing a video. But the man was turned away from it, choosing to look at the other direction instead.

              “Ryan? Sweetheart? What are you looking at?” Cartoonz gently asked while Tiny settled back in between Ohm’s feet.

              “A wall.” Ohm responded in a monotone voice. It was hollow and ghosted around the room. Cartoonz saw the wall too. Not the office wall, however, but the invisible wall that was blocking him from Ohm.

              “Okay. Describe the wall for me.” Cartoonz says, taking off his jacket and throwing it on the couch. He turns on a lamp light, not wanting to turn on the ceiling light in case it was too bright. Finally, he sees his boyfriend’s face. It was blank, his eyes dull and glazed over. His cheeks were damp, signifying that must’ve been crying earlier. Cartoonz never liked when he looked like that. It pained him with worry. But his rational side told him not to panic. Panic was the last thing he needed in this situation. He learnt that the hard way.

              “Describe the wall to me, sweetheart. What’s the color of the paint?” Ohm slightly lifts his head.

              “It’s…it’s navy blue.” He takes a deep breath.

              “Yes, it is. We painted it navy blue last summer if you remember. We’re in your office. Tell me more. What else do you see?” Cartoonz was on Ohm’s side now, stroking his hair softly.

              “I see…there’s, there’s posters on the wall. Fan art….and a light switch…there’s a desk. There’s a bunny on the desk.” Ohm takes another deep breath. He starts to scrunch his eyes, trying to process what’s in front of him.

              “Good, Ryan, good. Tell me what you hear now. Focus on your hearing.” Ohm thinks for a bit and licks his lips.

              “I hear the fans of my computer…and scratching. Dog scratching…And…the heater?”

              “Yeah, I turned it on when I came in.” Cartoonz nodded, waiting for him to continue. He starts humming a tune.

              “I hear your accent and…humming. Are you humming your outro song?”

              “Yeah, it’s the best goddamn song I know.” Cartoonz chuckles. A hint of a smile peaks out and Cartoonz knows it’s more of a real one than not. He swipes his hair one more time before sliding towards Ohm’s shoulder and down his arm, never leaving his person. Cartoonz walks around the chair so he was facing Ohm. He grips his hands, applying pressure with his thumbs to remind him he’s there.

              “You’re doing so well. How’s it going, sweetheart? Squeeze my hands for me.” Ohm’s fingers twitch before clenching his hands around his. Cartoonz lightly squeezes back, hoping to bring him down.

              Sometimes, this was enough. Sometimes, reminding him of his surroundings and giving him something to grasp was enough. But the way Ohm clenched and unclenched his hands and the way he shook his head with each steady breath, he realized he was still trying to claw his way out.

              “Ryan, remember what we practiced, Love. Press your feet on the ground, tense your legs, then your thighs, then your stomach…keep going up. Pay attention to how it feels. Good, good.” Luke repeated the grounding technique. He knew it was easier for Ohm to focus with instruction. It was almost like a yoga coach. He watched Ohm’s muscles contract and relax then contract and relax again. It was a system of control, Ohm once said, it reminded him that he had control of his own body.

              “Ryan. Listen. We’re in your office. It’s just me, you, and Tiny. It’s Monday in April. You’re okay. You’re safe. You can do this. There’s no danger here.” Luke repeated the affirmations until Ryan’s eyes started to flutter. They dart around, character splashing down his face. He meets Luke’s eyes and gives him a confused look. Luke lets go of Ryan’s hands and places them on his cheeks. Ryan follows him and lays his hands on top of Luke’s. “Ryan?”

              “Luke you’re…how long have I been gone?” He was still trying to lift the final remnants of the fog but was coming to.

              “About 15 or so minutes with me. Not sure how long before.”

              “Shit.” Ryan muttered. “How did I let myself fall into that. I don’t understand what happened.” Cartoonz understood his disappointment. Self-awareness was something he’s been working on and has gotten quite good at. It must be frustrating to fall into habits again, it must be frustrating to remember he wasn’t linear.

              “You responded this time though. You picked up the phone and told me what was happening. We went through the motions together. That’s a good sign.” Ohm closed his eyes while Cartoonz massaged his cheeks. The times when Ryan was unresponsive were the hardest ones. All Luke could do was hold him, wait and wonder where his mind was taking him. Thankfully, those were rare days.

              “Yeah, I can vaguely recall that. I tried to stay. I did good. I’m here.” Ryan sternly told himself. He opened his eyes and gave Luke a smile. It reflected all the soft things he was finally feeling. Cartoonz kissed the tip of his nose then another one to his lips.

              “Okay, bitch. It’s time to eat dinner now. Look, I’m starving and I know you are too. Think I still have some sweet tea stashed in your fridge.” They walked to the kitchen deciding to order delivery instead. Ohm wanted to watch some movies too but he knew it was just an excuse to cuddle on the couch. Cartoonz was pouring them glasses of sweet tea, looking through food options on his phone. “Hey, babe, does Thai sound good? I’m kinda feelin’ spicy and…” His sentence was cut off suddenly, when he hears objects fall on the floor. Cartoonz pivots and walks into the livingroom to find Ohm, a stack of DVDs dropped on the ground, while staring at his wall calendar.

              “It’s April 7th. That makes a lot of sense now.” He says moreso to himself than to his partner. Cartoonz’s breath hitches. How did he not realize the date? He knew it was April but…was that what his body was trying to tell him all day? Cartoonz thought back to April 7th of last year. It was filled with so much tears and a whirlwind of emotions. So much phasing in and out. Cartoonz never forgot how fragile Ohm felt. Ohm was in so much pain. It messed with him that he couldn’t fully comprehend the things that haunted him about this day. It was a nightmare.

              Cartoonz braced himself, ready to catch his boyfriend if he fell again. He was ready to do it all night if he had to. Cartoonz loved Ohmwrecker. He was never going to let him go through this day alone.

              “Well, damnit.” Ohm said. He took a long breath and tapped his fingerprints on the shelf before picking up the pen he hung next to his calendar. Ryan crossed out the date with a big ‘x’. “Yeah, Thai sounds fine, Toonzy. You think the restaurant down west is open and can deliver? They make a mean Pad Thai.” He starts picking up the movies he’s dropped, fingering through which ones they should watch. Cartoonz just continues looking on, his heart swelling in his chest.

              “I can feel you staring at me, Toonz. And I know what you’re thinking. The date still bothers me obviously; as we saw earlier. But I’m fine at the moment. I want to stay in the present with you. I will stay in the present with you.” Cartoonz was always amazed at the strength his boyfriend had. He was amazed that the capacity of it was limitless. He was fighting but he put out one hell of a fight.

              “I’m so proud of you, love. So fucking proud.” Cartoonz trails his lips down Ohm’s jaw until their lips meet. They took their time to taste each other, to feel the other so close. Ohm released and leaned his forehead on his. They entangled fingers for a second, just basking in the moment before Ohm giggles and leads them back into the kitchen. Cartoonz still didn’t know how he managed to find such a wonderful man.

[ionica01]

This is out of blue but... “You’re my roommate who’s super cute and it’s the middle of the night and you’re cramming for your exams in your flannel pajamas and disheveled hair and it’s becoming increasingly hard for me not to kiss you” AU. Izuocha\Karmanami please?

Hey Adi! It’s been so long:) This was my IzuOcha week contribution for day 4: Domestic! You always give me the best prompts and ideas, hehe~!! I hope you enjoy!

People have vastly different ways of dealing with crushes. Most of them have some sort of crisis, phone their best friends and drive them insane with increasingly absurd poetic descriptions of how cute the object of their affection is, finding new metaphors for love as if, unless put into words, the feeling isn’t real. Others bottle it all up, stealing glances at the person they hold special feelings for, as if that will provide a model for them to paint over, a sketch on the otherwise blank canvas of their life, the start of an enriching work of art. For some, it’s just instinct, as if they’re touch-starved and they need to fulfill some animalistic urge.

Izuku, of course, knows all of this, because he has extensively studied how people deal with crushes ever since he realized he didn’t miraculously catch a cold every time he thought his roommate was cute. It’s also by overanalyzing all this data that he realized his way of coping with crushes is overanalyzing all the data.

This is the thought process that Midoriya Izuku has followed to reach the predicament he is in, and why, he discovers, studying with Uraraka is highly distracting. Because, if there is one thing all crushes have in common, is that the presence of said crush is the holiest blessing and cruelest curse at the same time, mocking all paradoxes known to mankind.

He tries - he really does - to be neither in the stealing glances category, nor in the poetic descriptions one. Unlike everything else Izuku has succeeded in, hard work fails him miserably this time around.

It’s not his fault that he’s already done with his assignment for All Might and that the light in the living room falls just so, the soft glow teasing Uraraka’s tousled hair and the loose threads of her flannel pajama, at least one size too big and definitely unironed. Her focused face is shaped as a pout, her teeth gingerly grazing the ends of her pencil as she taps her fingers to the desk and furrows her brow. It’s not his fault, but he isn’t innocent either, because it’s all Izuku can do not to lean over and poke the imperfect crease that makes her perfect.

Her sigh stirs him out of his contemplative state as she bangs her forehead against the table, raising her hands in defeat. Izuku allows a laughter to bubble out of him, even though it attracts a heavy “Ughhh” from his friend.

“Stop laughing!” she sulks, weakly throwing a pencil in his direction. Izuku dodges, eliciting another groan from Uraraka, who repeatedly slams her forehead against her notebook, as if urging the physics formulas to enter her brain and stay there.

“I have never been defeated by physical laws in real life, so why must theory take its revenge on me?” she groans, her lower lip jutting into an illegally adorable pout, one that Izuku tries his hardest to pretend he hasn’t seen, because it’s doing atrocious things to his heart. Treacherous thing, these feelings blooming inside him faster than weeds that bleed into perfectly planned gardens.

In an attempt to shift his focus from the thrumming beats of his heart, echoing loudly and clearly in his ears, he leans over her notebook and asks, “Magnetism?”

“Electrons are small, so why are they such a big headache?” she dramatically sighs, flapping her arms around her before eventually slumping on the carpet.

If theoretical physics is toying with Uraraka, then real life physics is poking fun at Izuku, because her oversized shirt isn’t supposed to ride over the edge of her pants and reveal a strip of her smooth skin, nor is her exhausting face presumed to be so endearing, the eyebags bringing out the sparks in her eyes and her pale face looking like porcelain in the light of her desk lamp.

Izuku gulps and tries to focus on the words formed by her lips instead of the way they move, trying to process the meaning of what she’s saying instead of wondering what it would feel like to press his mouth to hers, to taste the oily fries they had for dinner, because they live up to the broke student legend and have midnight McDonald’s happy meals to keep them going during the exams.

To refrain himself, Izuku discovers that reciting all of the hormones that cause him to feel such physical attraction does the trick, and he offers her a hand to pull her up. “Tell you what,” he says as she bats his arm away dramatically. “You make it through this theory paragraph and I’ll pay for lunch tomorrow.”

She bolts back to a sitting position, eyes glimmering with the promise of an actual meal - for free. “You mean that?”

Izuku nods, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling at the delighted look on her face, the look that makes his heart thump faster than it should. “Deal!” she says, picking up the pen with newfound determination.

Uraraka has no idea what her puffed out cheeks and sudden “aha” moments that light up her face and made her hair bob along with her nods do to Izuku, no clue how his eyes drift from the page of his English assignment to her nimble fingers tapping the spine of her book, no hint that his mind is running through scenarios of how this evening could unfold, scenarios he has to shut down before they get too far.

He’s always been focused on the goal in front of him, but lately, he’s been wondering what it would feel like to make Uraraka part of that goal. She’s been his best friend since high school, yet somewhere along the line, his attachment to her morphed into something that scares Izuku, a feeling so strong it’s choking him and threatening to push him over the line painted by an invisible hand between them.

When she looks up from her notebook with uncontained glee an hour later and gives him an uninhibited grin, however, caution is thrown to hell. Izuku can’t bring himself to recite all the hormones again, neither does he seem to see the line he’s crossing at 100 kmph. All he sees is his hand, raising to her face to tuck the unruly hair behind her ear, but it doesn’t feel like it’s attached to his body.

The word, “DONE~” dies on her lips as her lips as her eyes widen, and a blanket of crimson coats her childish features. Maybe Izuku should have asked her, but it’s too late now, and he closes his eyes before pushing the accelerator pedal and crashing his lips into hers.

It’s really clumsy, and he finds himself wishing he had read more extensively on what do do with a crush instead of crushes themselves. He has twenty seconds before the adrenaline will leave his system, and he uses his time to run his hand through the knots in Uraraka’s hair, to breathe in the mango scented soap she uses and the strawberry chapstick that engulfs the faint oily aftertaste of fries, and to faintly hear her dropping her pen.

Her hands clutch around his shirt before he can pull back sheepishly, and her lips suddenly move against his with urgency. She’s even clumsier than him, bumping their noses and foreheads more than once, and drawing away with crimson stained cheeks and short of breath, but her earnest chocolate eyes stare into his with a sense of awe and wonder.

“Uhm,” he tries, suddenly unsure what one is to say after having kissed one’s best friend without any warning. Words weren’t created for the predicament Izuku is in, and he finds himself retracting his hand from her hair to scratch the side of his cheek, and feel it burning. He lacks data on this pivotal moment, and realized how poorly constructed his attack plan was.

“Waw,” Uraraka manages, more eloquent than him. “I-”

“I’m sorry!” Izuku suddenly blurts. She blinks at him blankly, and he elaborates, “I don’t know what came over me, and I shouldn’t have-” he cuts himself off, because that’s not what he actually means. “I should have asked you before.”

Uraraka seems mildly amused with his rambles and asks in her teasing voice, “And if I had said no?”

Izuku holds her gaze evenly, finding a challenge to be honest in her eyes. “I don’t really know. I would be heartbroken, but I would have respected your decision. Is it a no, though?”

“No, it’s not,” she admits with a shake of her head.

“Is it a yes?” he asks with a small smile.

Uraraka’s face breaks into a lopsided smile and she closes in the distance between them, humming in approval as she presses her lips onto his, this time slower, silencing the ticking of the clock on the wall as they explore the vastness of this new form of them together.

It’s new, and it opens an endless trail of questions in Izuku’s mind, new territory to analyze and map, but mostly, it makes him realize this is more than a crush, because with Uraraka running her hands through his hair, just as messy as his, and with his hands on her waist, Izuku find himself falling.

And it’s the best feeling in the world.

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

Safe with me (5)

Summary: When an unknown threat enters your life, protection is offered at the highest level. As Bucky Barnes comes into your life, the game changes, and you realise falling for the man tasked with keeping you safe is the last thing you expected.     

Characters: Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Bad language. Descriptions of stalking. People being shitty to Bucky Barnes (fight me).

A/N: My knowledge of trial procedure is based on reruns of Law and Order, so I’m probably taking some liberties. Just go with it. Canonically, Senator Stern does not have a first name, so I made one up. Also, Bucky wears suits like Harvey Specter, that’s simple fact. This chapter is more serious, and someone else gets protective.

SORRY FRIENDS, TAGS FOR THE STORY ARE CLOSED.

SAFE WITH ME MASTERLIST PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Previously...

Shaky hands flip open a little blue bottle, and he pulls out a small yellow pill. Setting it on the tip of his tongue, he closes his eyes as it dissolves. His body reacts quickly to the drug, a feeling of melting wax dripped across his skin, splotches of burning heat followed by velvety ice. The ‘oblivion’ is a tangible object as it pours over him, rushing from the tips of his fingers to his ends of his toes.

Ready, ready, ready. Ready to comply.

He opens his eyes and picks up the paper, folding it into a perfect rectangle.

He has a letter to deliver.

*****

Lost in thought, you stare out the window, contemplating the steady fall of rain. The city was a watercolor painting against the night sky, a canvas smeared with blurry oranges and yellows, the sharp angles of skyscrapers reduced to soft black smudges. Lightning flashed and flickered, illuminating the dark apartment, and the crash of thunder follows instantaneously. It reverberates through the bones of Manhattan, steel and metal and concrete, rattling your thoughts. Your brain nudges you again, remembering yesterday's conversation.

*****

Jack is waiting next to your desk when you return from lunch, an expectant look on his face. Wordlessly, he hands over three thick files.

"All the back-up was emailed as well, but I know you like hard copies. I want short summaries posted to the 'Political Fast Facts' section every evening, and a feature-length story for the Sunday edition. Send everything direct to me for edit and review."

Pinching your bottom lip, you nod briskly. He notices the dismal expression.

"Did you try talking to him?"

"I did."

"Then I take it he won't budge?"

"No. He won't."

"It's his decision, you know that. He's a professional. He won't let his personal feelings get in the way."

*****

Hugging the steaming cup of pre-dawn coffee close to your chest, the heat of the ceramic mug seeps through the thin fabric of your shirt, warming your skin. Taking a small sip, you glance back to the red notebook sitting open on the coffee table, the creamy white sheets blank. Yesterday's lunch conversation with him replays again, vividly fresh.

*****

Digging two sodas from a paper bag, Bucky hands you a diet Coke and sets his Dr. Pepper on the bench.

"I don't understand why you drink diet Coke, it's shit."

"Because I like the taste, asshat."

"It's gross."

"Your face is gross."

He grins and snaps the tab on his soda, continuing picking up his ongoing stream of instruction. "Fair enough. Anyway, I'll pick you up at 6:30, I want to miss the morning rush. Make sure you're ready."

Rubbing your finger along the edge of the soda can, you stay quiet. Knowing him for several weeks now, there hasn't been a single thing you've been afraid to say. Until now. He realizes something's wrong, and he goes still, waiting patiently for you to speak. Lifting nervous eyes to his face, you force the words out in a rush.

"Hey, so listen."

Bucky tenses immediately, setting down the soda can and shaking his head. "No."

"Bucky stop, just listen for a minute."

"No."

"You stubborn dick, can you just let me get this out? Just - just let me go into the trial alone. It's ridiculous for you to sit in that courtroom and re-live this shit," you argue heatedly. "It's okay, alright? I'll be okay. You can wait right outside the door, less than 20 feet away. Just because you're not sitting with me, doesn't mean you're not doing your job. It's okay Bucky, really. I don't mind."

"No."

At the defiant clench of his jaw, you want to stamp your feet. Nothing about this response is surprising, but you try one final time. "For the first time in my life, I'm not trying to be a pain in your ass Bucky, I swear. I just don't want to make you uncomfortable. That's all I'm saying."

Calm, unwavering determination burns in his eyes. "I knew this was part of the deal before I signed up. I did it anyway. I appreciate your concern, I really do. But you don't need to protect me, that's my job. I'm coming. Where you go, I go."

*****

Former Senator Garrison Stern's trial begins this morning, and the arrival comes with a startling awareness. Bucky is the most solid, reliable, comforting presence you've allowed in your life for years, and while the verbal battles that make up your daily exchange are entertaining, you would never, ever willingly hurt him.

It was bad enough that you were there, listening and re-living.

That he disagreed was no surprise. Bucky Barnes would take that crushing sense of duty and sacrifice to the grave.

*****

The rain mercifully ends at daybreak, sunlight filtering through the clouds in streaks of gold to chase away the gloom. Bucky texts his arrival at 6:25, so you gather your bag, zip your boots, and head down to face the day.

Walking into the damp morning air, you find him facing east, hands in his pockets as he watches the rising sun creep through the streets. When he turns to greet you, the sight momentarily stuns. Gone is the beat-up leather jacket and jeans, replaced with an impeccably tailored dark blue suit, French cuffs crisply white, a grey silk tie in a thick Windsor knot at his neck.

He looks completely, totally, and utterly unfair.

When you speak, the greeting comes out a squeak that sounds irritatingly breathless. "Good morning. You – clean up okay."

"Good morning," he responds, a smile curving his lips. "Was that my compliment for today?"

Precariously off balance, you slip into defensive mode while you recalibrate. "Yes. Did you need something more? Is that not good enough?"

"No, I don't think so. You're a writer, you have a big vocabulary. You can do better," he says seriously. Opening the backdoor to the black Mercedes parked at the curb, he motions you inside. You slide into the backseat with a huff, but not before pinching his arm in retaliation.

He shuts the door and laughs.

*****

The crowd is only beginning to gather when you arrive at the courthouse, allowing you to reach the top of the steep stairs with ease. Leaning against the white marble pillars, you dig through your bag for the envelope containing your two ID badges. Handing Bucky his plastic pass, you slip a white lanyard over your neck, adjusting the name-tag carefully. After all this time, it still gives you a little thrill seeing your name with 'New York Times, Journalist' printed below.

Bucky drops his around his neck without another thought and returns to scanning the bodies loitering on the steps. Giving his sleeve a small tug, he looks down and you point at the badge with raised eyebrows. "I had that one printed special for you, least you can do is say thanks."

He looks at you in confusion, before squinting down at the tag. It takes him a moment, but then he snorts.

Sergeant James Barnes

SHIELD, Winter Fucking Soldier

"You're an idiot," he chuckles.

"Um, you're fucking welcome," you answer in mock outrage.

His grin slowly fades into one of genuine sincerity. "Thank you. I mean it. Just what I needed today."

Giving him an encouraging smile, you turn to go inside. Squaring his shoulders, Bucky lifts his eyes to the sky, hesitating for the briefest pause. Collecting himself, he fixes his lips into his trademark sneer, adds a little 'murder strut pep' to his step, and follows you in.

Winter Fucking Soldier indeed.

*****

WEDNESDAY, DAY 1 Former Pennsylvania Senator Garrison Stern's trial began today, the last in a series of revolutionary court cases accusing three of the most influential and popular members of Congress with terrorism. Mr. Stern, who was exposed in the aftermath of SHIELD's global data release, faces an impressive number of crimes, the extravagance and cruelty of which was previously seen on the infamous list of crimes posthumously linked to Secretary Alexander Pierce. Pierce, who was shot dead during –

NYTimes Online; "Political Fast Facts: Garrison Stern's trial kicks off"

*****

Access to the trial was granted to only a handful of journalists and you're pleased with the invite. Bucky follows you into the courtroom, giving a grunt of disapproval when he finds the seating assignments. Ignoring the two allocated for you, he swaps the name cards with two seats near the exit and waits while you get settled, his eyes sweeping slowly through the courtroom.

You don't need to ask.

Door to the Judge's chambers directly behind the bench, prisoner holding cells to the right. Heavy wood tables for the Prosecution and Defense teams holding three people each, one exit at the rear. No windows.

Just in case.

Long minutes tick by as you let him think, spinning your pen anxiously between your fingers, before clearing your throat quietly. Bucky recognizes the request for attention and glances down inquiringly. Your eyes stay glued to the floor.

"The trial should be fast. Less than a week. There's so much evidence, this is really a formality."

He doesn't reply. When you finally meet his gaze, he gives a short nod, his face calm. With one final look around the room, he moves to sit carefully beside you, folding his hands in his lap and settling into an unnerving stillness.

Here is a fact. Stern was never involved with the Winter Soldier in the same way as Alexander Pierce. He was a tertiary commander, never given direct access to, or command of, the Soldier.

Here is another fact. Nuance is unimportant. Even in a limited capacity, he held control over the Soldier's fate, and with that simple fact, Bucky knows a fierce desire to see this end. Alexander Pierce's death came far too easy, so watching Garrison Stern slowly crack and crumble and bleed out his last bit of sanity? Well. That somewhat assuages the blinding desire for revenge.

When the teams file in, Bucky's fingers begin to twitch.

Stern looks like hell, and my god, does that make you happy. His suit hangs loose, curly brown hair thin and streaked with grey. Before he collapses in his assigned chair, he chances a glance to the gallery and you watch his eyes skip past you, before snapping back in surprise. When he spots Bucky at your side, he seems bemused by the connection, until the strangest look takes over his face.

And then his lawyer is whispering in his ear, forcing him into a chair, and he turns forward, hands clasped loosely on the wide table. A hush falls over the room, broken only by the sounds of terse whispers and rustling papers.

"All rise," the Bailiff's voice rings through the courtroom and your legs are moving automatically, lifting you to your feet as the Judge enters, Bucky rising stiffly at your side.

And so, it begins.

There's a clean white sheet of paper in front of the Judge, the neat rows of black print perfectly identical to the one in your hand. When she reads down the list of charges, you follow along, heart hammering when she hits two in particular.

"The Defendant is being charged with the following crimes: contempt of court; treason against the United States government; crimes against humanity, including the use of Weapons of Mass Destruction, forced disappearances of federal officials, torture, and unethical human experimentation; War Crimes including strategic bombing of civilian populations, and the capture and murder of hostages."

Absolute silence follows the Judge's statement, letting the audience absorb the drama of the words, and in mirror movements, you and Bucky look to each other. The heaviness of the days to come presses down already.

*****

THURSDAY, DAY 2 Every single member of the jury turned away in disgust when the photographs landed in their hands. Images of broken children, innocence in the face of Hydra's bloodlust and fanaticism, stood in stark relief to the look of utter boredom locked on Garrison Stern's face.

NYTimes Online; "Political Fast Facts: Kazakhstan and the lost seven"

*****

The Prosecutor selects a collection of photographs, sifting through as he walks deliberately to the jury box. Placing them into random hands, he waits to speak and is rewarded with a series of quiet gasps, as the men and women view the pictures.

"Two doctors were recruited at Mr. Stern's request, for research into the properties of Abraham Erskine's 'Super-Soldier Serum', most commonly known as serum successfully implemented in partnership with Captain Steven G. Rogers in 1943. Decrypted email correspondence shows Mr. Stern authorised the kidnapping of children in northern Kazakhstan for human experimentation and approved the wire-transfer of funds to the doctors hired to perform the procedure. The photographs in your hands show what was done to the children at Mr. Stern's request."

He stops again, lets the photos move through the jury's hands, before continuing.

"Statements were given by Sergeant James Barnes, who discovered the base and attempted to rescue the children, and by Dr. Bruce Banner, who later performed the autopsies. I'd like to read a summary of Sergeant Barnes' mission report as you look at these."

There's a twist in your stomach when he begins the familiar story. Each individual in the courtroom shifts in their seat, stealing a covert look at Bucky, who stares straight ahead, his expression blank. You only realise the impact when you see the light sheen of sweat on his forehead.

MISSION REPORT: Recon and extraction, former Hydra base in northern Kazakhstan Written by Sgt J.B. Barnes at request of N.J. Fury

After infiltrating the base, I found seven concrete cells on the lowest level. Inside were four dead bodies, each lying on their back, faces covered in dried blood, indicating they had been there for some time. Further in the base, I found an occupied laboratory, where three remaining children, two males and one female, were strapped to metal tables. Doctors were performing tests on them, specifically cutting open their arms and injecting green fluid under their skin.

After neutralising the threat, I carried the remaining three children from the base, but none survived. All three collapsed within ten minutes of leaving the facility; I attempted CPR, but was unable to revive any of them. Speaking later with Dr. Banner, he concluded the children died from a combination of asphyxiation and internal burns.

Bucky still sits unmoving next to you, betraying nothing.

If you live to be a hundred, you'll never forget this story. His mission report is a simple set of facts, devoid of the heart-breaking colour and emotion that filled his original words and you realise with a pang that he shared that version with you and you alone.

Intensive debates and discussions follow. Questions are posed, answers reluctantly given. Nerves are stretched taut when the Judge finally orders a midday recess. Notebooks pop when they snap shut, chairs squeak as occupants move, and the hum of muted voices rises.

This situation is so ridiculous. You hate that he has to sit here and listen to this garbage. Licking your lips, you search for something to say, but the words that come feel overcooked and inauthentic, and you cringe when they leave your lips.

"I'm so sorry Bucky, I know that must have been hard, I really don't mind if you wait outside – "

"No," Bucky mutters, stopping you with a frustrated shake of his head. "Don't, please. I mean it. I like it much better when you're fired up at me, I don't want pity."

"Fine," you scowl, anger at his obstinacy flaring white-hot. "Fine. Then how's this? You're being a stupid, pig-headed, god damn chucklefuck, and I'd really like to punch you in your stubborn teeth. Does that work?"

"Yeah," he sighs with relief, leaning back against the seat. "Yeah, that's perfect."

*****

Dusk is falling when you leave the courthouse. A group of reporters are congregating at the bottom of the steps, when they spy Bucky behind you. There's a sudden burst of shouting, and the group swarms, questions flying from every direction.

"Sergeant Barnes, will you take the stand as a witness?"

"Do you remember meeting with Mr. Stern while you were with Hydra?"

"How do you respond to those people saying you should be locked up as well?"

After everything he sat through today, everything he heard, everything he's dealt with, the last question goes too far. Feeling fighty as fuck, you whirl toward the voice in fury, but a hand locks tight on your arm.

"Don't," comes Bucky's voice, sharp and low in your ear. Looking up in disbelief, you want to demand why the hell not, when he answers in a flat voice. "It's never worth it."

You simply stare at him, wondering how he can let this shit roll off, because it's so fucking unfair, you can barely see straight. But he doesn't say a word. Instead, he wraps his right arm protectively around your shoulders, holds his silver hand ahead to clear a path, and pulls you along. His mouth is set in a grim line, ignoring every question flung his way.

You let yourself be pulled against the stream, moving swiftly. Until Bucky strangely stumbles.

He seems confused when he looks over his shoulder, eyes flickering across the mass of shouting voices. There are too many people, too loud, too close and the strange scent comes from nowhere. Bucky feels his lips pucker automatically when the tart, tangy flavor of lemons assails his senses.

He peers down, but you look back questioningly. The smell is so strong he can feel it in his chest, achingly familiar, there's something about it, something important? The idea dances through his brain, refusing to settle and let him consider it further. He rubs his forehead, trying to concentrate, but the scent and desire to investigate further are suddenly gone.

*****

FRIDAY, DAY 3 Apparently, adherence to the Geneva Convention falls outside the scope of Mr. Stern's conscience. During a heated discussion of the catastrophic Algerian Embassy attack that left seven American hostages dead, Mr. Stern's legal defence decided to chase the idea that those individuals murdered in cold-blood were captured as enemies of the state and, wait for it: had it coming.

NYTimes Online; "Political Fast Facts: Murderer is a five-letter word"

*****

More photographs are pulled from the Prosecutor's stack. The images elicit the same disgusted reaction from the jury, which he lets rumble on for a minute before he speaks.

"In August of that year, the US embassy in El Biar, Algeria, was raided and seven Americans taken hostage. Several terror organisations initially took credit, before it was later revealed that Hydra masterminded the takeover to remove prominent US diplomats from power. All seven officials were marched into the streets and summarily executed in broad daylight."

You can feel yourself begin to shiver, an unconscious tremble triggered by nerves and shitty memories that begin to build. Bucky doesn't say a word, but he slides his arm from his side and lays it across the back of the bench. He doesn't try to wrap an arm around you, doesn't try to give you his jacket, doesn't treat you like glass. He just leaves the option there.

And you take it. His body radiates heat, enough to eventually stem the wash of cold running through your veins, and with a small shift and a tilt of your knees, you feel his warmth envelop you.

He tries not to notice. Shifts his attention elsewhere, keeps his eyes trained intently on the arguments up front. He can feel you next to him, scribbling your unintelligible short-hand notes, rolling your shoulders now and again to fix your slouching posture. He finds himself tiptoeing closer to distraction, eagerly awaiting those tiny snippets of sound, ones that suddenly seem to fill the empty spaces in his head.

Quick, quiet, catches of breath. The scratch of a ballpoint pen. A gentle click of teeth tapping together. Sounds that are so much nicer than the horrors spilling at the front of the room.

In the next second, he chides himself harshly.

Distraction is the opposite of control. Bucky Barnes does not lose control.

*****

The courthouse empties quickly on Friday afternoon, and when you and Bucky leave the room, the main hallway is vacant.

"Can you wait here while I make a quick call?"

"No problem," you mumble, so engrossed in skimming your notes you barely hear him. Footsteps fade behind you as Bucky walks a short distance away, and you're left alone. You took pages and pages of notes, and ideas for how to shape the story are already buzzing in your head.

"Good evening," the greeting comes in front of you, a perfectly pleasant voice.

"Good ev –" you reply, glancing up from your notebook, the words dying on your tongue when you see the flushed red cheeks of the heavy-set man. Hatred shines bright in his eyes, rage curling his mouth into a thin-lipped sneer.

Meeting the furious eyes of Garrison Stern's son, you feel your heart skip. Summoning an equal measure of rage, you glare back in defiance. "Whatever it is, I'm not interested."

"Too bad little girl, I'm speaking and you'll fucking listen."

"I'm sorry, did you not understand? Let's try again. You can fuck right off, you arrogant prick."

He steps closer, his hulking presence invading your personal space, but you refuse to back down. "You mouthy little bitch, you really think they're letting you get away with any of this? They'll find you soon enough, you stupid whore –" he spits the words in your face, so close you can smell the wet heat of his breath, before he's suddenly backpedalling in panic, stumbling over his own feet.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Bucky breathes, tugging you behind him and shoving forward, his nose an inch from the man's suddenly pale face.

"N-nothing, it was nothing."

"Yeah. Yeah, that's what I thought." Bucky's voice drops, so soft the man strains to hear the words, but there's no mistaking the tone. Sheer fury vibrates clearly in each syllable. "It was nothing because that's exactly what you are, you piece of shit. Here's what happens next. You walk away right now and I won't break your fucking face. But, if you ever come near her again, if you try to touch her or speak to her or even look in her direction, I'll personally remove your spine through your throat, tie it around your neck, and choke the fucking life out of you. Are we god damn motherfucking clear?"

The man nearly swallows his tongue, blanching at the look on Bucky's face. "Sure, whatever you say."

"Apologize to her."

"Fuck you man – "

The smooth sound of whirring machinery hits your ears when Bucky's fist shoots forward, silver plated fingers tangling in the man's tie. He twists the striped silk tight, digging the fabric into his throat, cutting his air supply.

"Try again."

"Bucky," you murmur warningly. "It's okay, just let it go."

He ignores the request, his hand squeezing tighter and tighter, until the man coughs out a response. "Sorry, I'm sorry."

"Good," Bucky hisses, shoving him viciously. Without another glance, he places a steady hand at the small of your back and escorts you down the hallway, opening the front doors with a bang.

The ride back to your apartment is silent. Bucky falls completely still as he stares out the window, but his right hand rests on the seat between you, clenched in a fist so tight his knuckles shine brilliantly white against the black leather. Closing the small space, you brush your thumb over the ridges, a feather-light touch, until his fingers release and relax.

Staring out your own window, you miss the fleeting spark of longing when he glances to your profile.

*****

When the car rolls to a stop in front of your home, you don't leave straight away. Picking at your fingernails, you struggle to articulate your thoughts, an odd experience, given your usual ease. It feels stilted when you speak.

"Bucky. Thank you, for this week. It was – nice to have someone there, someone with me. It would have been fucking miserable to be alone the entire time."

"You don't have to thank me. I told you, it's my job."

"No," you say clearly, tilting your chin up to meet those cool blue eyes. "No, it's not just your job. You didn't have to come and you did. I'm saying thanks because I mean it."

He gives you a small smile. "Okay. You're welcome then."

Wrinkling your nose, you wave your hand, dismissing him. "Anyway, it's been a long few days and I'm emotionally exhausted and it feels weird to be so nice. Don't get used to it."

Bucky nods solemnly, curbing a grin when he hears the snappy sass return. "Understood."

*****

One of the best places to work in your apartment is the floor in front of your couch. Pulling on a threadbare Georgetown sweatshirt, you perch the laptop on the coffee table, spread the notes in a neat semi-circle, and place a bottle of wine close to hand. In a few short hours, you have a solid first draft completed, and email it to Jack with a flourish, adding multiple winky faces as the sign-off.

Despite the strain of the week, you feel strangely wired. The crash will come soon, you have enough experience to know that, but for now you take advantage of the extra energy and move through the apartment, folding laundry, wiping kitchen counters, straightening bookshelves. Once the place is acceptably clean, you wander back into the kitchen and pour the remaining contents of the wine bottle into a pint glass. Gathering the week-old pile of work and personal mail that's been steadily growing, you plop onto the couch and start sorting.

Magazine, bill, bill, magazine, letter, credit card application, dental reminder, bill, magazine.

Piling the bills into a thick stack, you toss the magazines onto the coffee table and pick up the letter. Flipping it over, you don't find a postmark, it looks hand-delivered. Assuming it's another reminder from your building about their 'singles mixer' events (which are just the fucking worst), you slip a thumb under the flap and peel it open.

Unfolding a heavy sheet of paper, the strange images are confusing at first, perplexingly disjointed and incomprehensible.

When the realisation hits, a choked sob rips from your throat.

I SAW YOU TODAY. I WAS WATCHING YOU BUT YOU WERE WATCHING HIM. WHY? THEY TOLD ME WHAT HE'S DOING AND WHAT HE WANTS FROM YOU AND IT'S WRONG. YOU NEED TO SEE IT. I WILL MAKE YOU SEE IT. I WILL MAKE YOU FUCKING SEE IT. HE CAN'T HAVE YOU, HE CAN NEVER HAVE YOU. YOU'RE MINE. YOU'RE MINE. YOU'RE MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE.

There is no signature, only a dark red splatter at the bottom. The paper falls from your fingers, drifting quietly to the floor.

*****

Next Chapter

*****

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Strikethrough means Tumblr won’t let me tag

[90simaginesandfanfics]

I'm super sad and done with everything so her goes my shitty Chris request (You don't have to do it): Maybe one where reader is an artist but can't find the motivation to paint or do anything in general. Then she meets Chris and he is a big inspiration for her (not just art but on a personal level) and it's fluff and with much love for Chris. Keep being awesome girl xc

Fuck. You stared at the canvas in front of you andcompletely blanked. You had been working on this piece for two days now, and itstill looked like utter crap. You had no vision, and everything you tried to dojust wasn’t coming off in the right way. You couldn’t help but feel deflated.It had taken you a while to pick up your paintbrush again and when you finallydid, nothing seemed to be coming out.

“I’m going on break, do you mind serving at the till whileI’m gone?” You peered up to find your colleague Hannah standing at the doorwayconnecting the front and back of the store. You nodded to her and put yourpaintbrush down, making your way to the shop area. You were hit by the smell ofraw materials and fresh paint as you looked around the small arts shop.Hopefully working in the shop for a while would give you some inspiration forthe commission you had to get done by the end of the week.

You were staring into space, barely paying attention toanything when you heard the door to the store open and the bell sound above it.You quickly straightened up and looked towards the door, ready to great thefirst customer you had seen since the start of the day, when you were suddenlyblown away. The guy who walked in made eye contact with you, and you suddenlyfelt like you were drowning in his eyes, the brightest blue you had ever seen.His face was perfection, and from someone who sculpts and paints for a living,that was something major of you to think. He came up to the till with a shysmile, and you had to force yourself to get out of your daze and act like anormal human being, rather than just staring at him like a creep.

“Uh…h-hi, how can I help you?” You asked, still admiring hisface. And his hair…

“Hi. Do you sell, like varnish, but that I can use on aguitar?” He asked with an inquisitive look and you shook yourself out of thetrance you were in, telling him to follow you to the left side of the shop. Youdirected him to where the varnish was and helped him pick out the one thatwould be best. You both made your way back to the till where you started toring up his purchase.

“So, I’ve never seen you here before, are you new?” Themysterious stranger asked, and you could feel a blush rising at the fact thathe was talking to you.

“No, I just usually work in the back for commissions, but wedon’t have a lot of staff today, so here I am.” You explained, feeling like anidiot for the way you were probably coming across to him.

“Wait, so you’re the artist in the store? You’re the one who’spainted all these” He asked, gesturing to the canvases displayed on the walls, hiseyes suddenly lighting up, and you could tell yours were probably doing thesame thing. You nodded your head and he smiled brightly at you.

“You’re an amazing artist, anyone could only wish for yourtalent.” If you weren’t blushing before, you definitely were now. It had been along time since someone had complimented you on your art. In fact, complimentedyou on anything. And you were in a daze because of it. He talked to you for acouple more minutes. He turned to leave after he paid for this things, openingthe door, when he stopped and turned back.

“My name’s Chris by the way.” You smiled at him and then gavehim your name, before he said goodbye for the second time and left.

Hannah came back from her break shortly afterwards and youwent back to painting. But this time you didn’t stare at the canvas infrustration. Instead, you picked up your brush and started swiping on colour inall directions, texturing the paint and blending colours haphazardly. You wereso lost in your work, you didn’t even realise that you had subconsciously paintedblue tones, the colour of a stranger’s eyes, through the dim setting of thepainting.

*****

“So, what do you think?” you asked nervously, biting yournails in fear of what would happen next. Mrs Williams looked at the canvas onemore time before turning to you, her eyes full of scrutiny.

“I think you managed to create the perfect painting for me,love.” She said, and a small smile came through on her face.

“And that blue you’ve used! I didn’t think that could workbut you’ve managed to pull it off.” You breathed the biggest sigh of relief andprayed to the heavens that you didn’t fuck it up for once, thanks to a certainsomeone’s eyeballs. She gave you a small hug and you took her to the till topay, and helped her get the painting in the car, waving her off as you madeyour way back into the studio.

“Hey, I’m gonna take my break now.” Hannah said as she camecharging in to your workspace and you nodded, making your way back to the frontof the store. You decided to start tidying shelves since it was a quiet day,and they really needed a clean. You got onto the small step ladder and startedto rearrange some of the spray cans that had been untouched for a while, makingsure they all had the right lids and were positioned properly. You were so engrossedin your work that you barely heard the door to the store open. You reached backto get one of the cans that was right at the back of the shelf, evading youwhenever you tried to grab it.

“Need any help?” Came a voice from behind you. A smallshriek left your mouth, and you lost balance of the ladder. You could feel yourbody moving due to gravity and you accepted the fact that in 2 seconds yourface would smash against the floor, when arms wrapped around your waist andcaught you. You grabbed ahold of the person’s biceps – which were huge – whileyou got hold of your footing again. Embarrassed and feeling like an idiot, youlooked up to apologise to the poor soul.

“Chris!?” You said, almost accusatory. He raised one of hiseyebrows questioningly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out that way, you justsurprised me.” You said.

“Yeah, I could tell.” He replied, and started laughing. Younervously laughed with him, still mortified.

“Well thank you for saving me. What can I help you with?”You asked, and his laughter died down. He reached up and started fiddling withpart of his beard, almost like a nervous tick, although you didn’t understandwhy he would be nervous.

“Well, I kinda wanted to ask you something.” He said and bythe tone of his voice, it didn’t sound good. You nodded your head and gesturedfor him to continue.

“Well, I was wondering if you had any plans tonight, becausethere’s this new Italian place near pike market and I was wondering if you’dlike to have dinner with me?” He finished, and your brain completely shut down.Did he just…? Ask you out? Before you had time to process it, your mouth startedtalking.

“Sure, I’d love to” He smiled and told you he’d pick you upfrom work. Chris left soon after, and you couldn’t quite believe what hadhappened. At this rate, you’d probably get all your commissions done afterspending a night staring into those azure eyes.

*****

Hope this is okay and you enjoy it. Have an amazing week everybody xxx

[green-eyeddragonfanfiction]

Bah, HumBuck! Plan E

Summary: You’re the newest Avenger. Realizing that Bucky plans to spend Christmas alone, you enlist the help of Wanda, your best friend, and Steve, Bucky’s best friend and your mentor. You’re determined to make his Christmas amazing. Plan A Plan B Plans C and D Plan E will work ...right? Pairing: Bucky x Female!Powered!Reader Word Count: ~2,754 Warnings: blood (just a bit), language, fluff A/N: This is for Sam’s Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree Writing Challenge. My prompt was #16, “’This was a terrible plan.’ ‘This was your plan.’” @lovelynemesis *gifs not mine*

Masterlist // Plans C and D // Plans F and G

You chatted in the snow, sipping hot chocolate for a while. At some point you conjured a fire in the center of the group and, although the boys might not admit it, you knew they all appreciated it.

Two hours later the five of you trudged back into the residential building (well, Vision was floating gracefully, but he was always graceful). You were talking to Bucky as you walked. Your plan hadn’t been a complete failure, but it still wasn’t good enough.

Time for Plan E.

“(Y/N)!” Wanda said excitedly, causing you and Bucky to stop walking and turn to look at her.

She was pointing above you, eyes alight with excitement. You looked to where she was pointing and gulped.

There, above you and Bucky, was (unmistakably) a sprig of mistletoe.

You looked at Bucky, who was looking at you like a deer caught in the headlights. Vision must not have noticed the tension or Wanda’s outburst, as he was too busy talking to Steve and bumped into you, knocking you out from under the mistletoe.

“Oh, my apologies, Miss (Y/L/N). I did not-”

“Viz!” Wanda said, exasperated.

He looked from you to Bucky, to Wanda, and then back to Bucky, confused until he looked up.

“Ah, mistletoe. I did not know Mister Stark’s decorators had added it,” he said, bending down to give Bucky a formal peck on the cheek.

When he straightened up, proud smile on his face over his grasp of Christmas traditions, he was met with a blank, soulless stare from Bucky, and a livid one from Wanda. She dragged him away wordlessly.

“I don’t understand. It’s customary to-”

They rounded the corner and you couldn’t hear them anymore, but judging by Wanda’s reaction he was probably getting an earful for his unintentional mistake. You wished she’d go easy on him; it had been a peck on the cheek after all.

To his credit, Bucky seemed mostly unphased. “Well, I’m going back to my room-”

“Wait!” you said quickly. To your surprise Bucky froze and stared at you apprehensively. “I was wondering if we could do a gift exchange? I know you’re not supposed to open presents early, but we have a little bit of time before we have to start making dinner and I used to open one gift on Christmas Eve when I was little and I thought it might be something fun to do. Although of course we don’t have to! I suppose there aren’t a lot of presents to begin with so it might be best to wait until tomorrow so that we have more to open-”

Bucky let out a loud sigh. His face was shadowed, so you couldn’t see his expression all that well. What you could see, however, were the cold steel blue eyes trained on your face. You fidgeted nervously, worried that you’d finally annoyed him too much.

Damnit. If only I’d just kept my mouth shut.

He turned and walked away without saying anything, Steve following closely behind. Steve gave you a small smile as he passed, although you couldn’t return it. You tried, but you just couldn’t make today nice for Bucky. Your gaze fell to the ground and you stood in the hallway, trying to keep it together. You’d tried so hard; why didn’t-

“You coming?” came Bucky’s soft, gravelly voice from the other end of the hall.

You looked up in surprise, gaze falling onto the two super soldiers who stood at the end of the hall, looking at you expectantly. Steve motioned down the hall towards the lounge where the gifts and half-burned Christmas tree awaited.

A broad smile broke out on your face. Perhaps you hadn’t failed, after all.

“Yup!” you said excitedly, practically skipping down the hall.

Steve smiled at your exuberance and Bucky rolled his eyes at you, though you didn’t miss the small, crooked smile that graced his features.

You’d thought that perhaps you should invite Wanda and Vision down for the gift exchange, but the image of Vision kissing Bucky on the cheek and Bucky looking absolutely dead inside changed your mind. Maybe it was best Vision wasn’t around Bucky for a little while.

You dug around the bottom of the tree and pulled out two packages; One for Bucky and one for Steve, both from you.

Steve’s gift had been an expensive but easy choice; A limited edition anniversary box set of the Lord of the Rings movie trilogy. You’d already gotten him the book set for his birthday, so it only seemed natural to follow it up with the movies.

You’d spent a lot of time thinking about Bucky’s gift. What did you get an aloof 100 year old assassin? Your brain went everywhere from guns to 40′s-themed clothing to new tech that he might like. You even thought about getting him a trip to a spa or hot spring. He always seemed so tense that you were sure he’d benefit from an hour-long massage or soak in hot water... but the thought of the Winter Soldier getting a mud mask was just too ridiculous so you settled on something practical.

Half of the time you saw him he was wearing a beaten, threadbare red Henley. You’d known him almost a year and you were pretty sure you could tell someone where all the holes in that shirt were while blindfolded. There was a good chance he had it on now, but if he did it was hidden under his fluffy maroon sweater.

As such, you’d gone to nearly every clothing store you could think of to find a nearly identical replacement, as well as a few others in the same style but in different colors. It was a simple gift, but something you hoped he’d enjoy and appreciate nonetheless.

You handed them their gifts eagerly, excited to see their reactions. “Have at it!” you said excitedly, motioning for them to unwrap their presents as you sat down in front of him on the coffee table.

Steve carefully undid his, meticulously pulling the tape off as he unfolded your neat creases. The second his glimpsed the Lord of the Rings logo, though, you could tell it was difficult for him to continue patiently unwrapping his gift.

Bucky shook his present as he held it up to his ear, as though he was trying to guess what it was. He apparently gave up because he quickly ripped through the paper.

Steve was happily admiring his gift, so enamored he hadn’t even snapped out of his gawking to thank you yet, so you focused on Bucky.

He opened the plain white clothing box slowly, shoving the tissue paper out of the way with his metal fingers.

You were practically vibrating with excitement, edging forward on the edge of the coffee table. A small part of you thought it was silly to get so excited about his reaction to a couple of shirts, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Bucky’s face changed imperceptibly. It was subtle; the hardening of his eyes, the corners of his lips tugging down barely a millimeter, his shoulders tensing as he froze, looking down into the box.

You were good enough at reading his body language by now to know what it all meant. He hated it. Your face fell and your body stilled, looking at him apprehensively.

“What the hell is this?” he asked, gaze flicking up to you. There was a tension in his voice that made your heart plummet to your stomach.

“I... I just thought you might like-”

“Well, you thought wrong,” he said as he shoved the lid roughly back on the box, stood, and dropped it on the couch where he’d been sitting. You could feel your heart shattering. Surely your gift couldn’t have been that offensive? But Bucky stalked down the hallway, shoulders hunched, quietly fuming as he made his way towards his room.

“Bucky... Bucky!” Steve yelled after his friend, disappointment clear in his voice. It was clear he was upset that his friend had stormed off; he was torn between going after him and checking on you. When he turned back to you, though, his mind was made up for him.

He was instantly off of the couch, his gift forgotten on the seat behind him “Hey, sweetheart. Don’t cry,” he said softly, hands hovering over your arms and face, unsure of exactly what to do.

You were crying? Huh. You hadn’t even noticed.

You quickly wiped your tears away and put on a brave smile. “It’s alright!” you said a little too cheerfully for how puffy and watery your eyes were. It was clear Steve wasn’t buying it, so you pressed on. “I’ll just return them and get him a gift card, or something!” you said, willing yourself back into the Christmas spirit. There went Plan E.

“What... What did you get him?” Steve asked, glancing at the plain white box out of the corner of his eye.

You sniffled, your mouth quirking up in a sad half smile. “Oh, nothing too special. You can look, if you want,” you said, motioning to the box dejectedly.

Steve still looked at you with concern, but he picked up the box and shoved the tissue paper out of the way just like Bucky had done.

He froze, just like Bucky had, when he laid his eyes on the gift.

“Uh, (Y/N)...?”

“Mm?” you asked, confused by his reaction. Surely shirts weren’t that confusing? A little bland for a gift, apparently, but-

“Why did you get Bucky a painting of Sam done in the renaissance style for Christmas?” Steve asked, pulling the painting out of the box. Sure enough, Sam Wilson was gazing back at you, immortalized in oil paint on a 10x12 canvas, looking regal in renaissance-era armor.

You stared at it in abject horror.

You’d mixed Bucky’s and Sam’s gifts up.

Your mind ran through what exactly had gone wrong. A loud smack rang out in the room as your palm met your forehead.

“I wrapped both their gifts in clothing boxes! It was convenient because Sam’s portrait happened to fit in one! I wrapped everything at once and I... I must have gotten their gifts confused,” you whispered, hands covering your mouth in shock.

“So... you didn’t get Bucky a painting of Sam for Christmas?” Steve asked. He couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from the ridiculous piece. When you’d asked him to teach you how to paint, he’d never expected... this. While it was beautifully done and captured Sam’s likeness well... it was just so odd.

“No! Oh god, no wonder he was so upset. Him and Sam hate each other!” you said in despair, Bucky’s reaction suddenly making a lot more sense.

Steve seemed to dwell on that for a moment, brow furrowed as he lost himself in thought.

“I don’t even have his gift... I gave it to Sam before he left for D.C....” you said slowly. You quickly pulled out your phone and sent him a text telling him about the mix up.

Gave you the wrong gift, pal. Give you the right one when you get back?

You expected him to take a while to respond considering the reason, but your phone buzzed before you even had a chance to set it down.

I don’t know, Hotrod. This has my name on it. I might just keep it.

You smirked at that.

You don’t want that gift, Wingman. Unless you want to start dressing like Bucky.

You hit send and only had to wait a few seconds before he responded.

Can I just throw it in the fire?

You rolled your eyes. They were so petty when it came to each other.

No. No, you cannot.

“Everything alright?” Steve asked warily as you tapped away at your phone.

“Yeah, just making sure Bucky’s real gift makes it back to the base in one piece,” you said, once again turning your attention to your phone as it buzzed again.

Fine. But my gift better be damn amazing.

You rolled your eyes and shoved your phone back into your pocket. “Damn... I really messed up,” you said, staring dejectedly at the painting still in Steve’s hands.

He set it gently back into the box and, to your surprise, turned a smile on you. “It’ll be alright. You can go explain what happened to Bucky while I get dinner started,” Steve said reassuringly.

You did a double take at his words. “Wait, what-”

“Go tell him about what happened. He’ll understand. He was just disappointed,” Steve said, patting you on the shoulder as he made his way to the kitchen, leaving you to reel your emotions and thoughts in alone.

Disappointed? Was that reaction warranted for being disappointed about a gift from a coworker or friend? Would he even accept your apology and excuse without his real gift as a peace offering?

You sighed and stood abruptly, pushing those thoughts from your mind. You made a mistake and it was time to own up to it. It was up to Bucky if he’d be reasonable about what happened or not.

You hastily packed the painting away and shoved it under the tree, its plain white surface looking dull compared to the other lavishly wrapped gifts.

You made your way to Bucky’s room. You knew the path so well by then that you barely paid attention to where you were going as your mind wandered and you suddenly found yourself in front of Bucky’s door. You took a deep breath and steeled yourself.

You knocked on his door, your fist a gentle rap against the wood. “Bucky?” you asked hesitantly.

You waited for a moment, but there was no response.

You tried again, knocking louder this time, anxiety lacing your veins. When it became clear he wasn’t going to open his door, you started your bad habit of rambling. “Bucky, it’s me. Uh, (Y/N).” He obviously knows it’s you, dummy. Focus. “I just wanted to say that you got the wrong gift by mistake. You got Sam’s and Sam got yours- I know, stupid. They were in the same type of box and I guess when I was wrapping them I didn’t notice they’d gotten mixed up and-”

Your meandering explanation was cut off as he opened his door. He loomed in the doorway, studying you warily.

“-and I can’t give you your actual gift until Sam gets back. Sorry,” you finished lamely, eyes glued guiltily to the ground.

He didn’t speak right away and you felt his gaze burning holes through you. Finally, “So you didn’t get me a painting of Sam for Christmas?” he asked, causing your head to snap up in alarm.

“No! I got you- mff,” his flesh hand slapped over your mouth before you could get the rest of your sentence out. When you realized you were about to ruin the surprise, your eyes widened in horror.

He raised a single eyebrow at you and- correctly guessing you’d realized your mistake by the look on your face- removed his hand.

“Thanks. And... sorry. Again,” you said sheepishly, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

“It’s alright, Doll. Sorry I acted a fool earlier,” he said quietly, a small, sheepish smile dancing on his lips. Surely you were imagining the warmth in his eyes.

“We’re starting to make dinner, if you want to come help?” you asked quickly, easily flustered under his gaze. You felt your cheeks heat and you hoped he didn’t notice how nervous you were.

“Depends. Is Steve letting you near the ovens again?” he asked playfully.

“I’m never living that down, am I?” you asked as an embarrassed grin worked its way onto your face.

“Never,” he said simply. He stepped out of his room, closing the door gently behind him. “Shall we?” he asked as he tilted his head in the direction of the kitchen.

“Mhm!” you hummed cheerfully. You wished you could be more eloquent around him, but he made your brain turn into a jumbled mess. You blamed his eyes. Or maybe it was his voice. Or the way his soft brown hair framed his face. Or those pouty lips. Or maybe his god-like physique. Maybe his skills? Or his hesitant, kind personality?

You bit back a beleaguered sigh. No, it was just Bucky as a whole. He just... did that to you, and you should have accepted it long ago.

Oh well. Plans F and G were bound to work. You had the entire team helping you this time.

Well... That didn’t go as planned. Plan F and G?

This series is finished, but if you want to be tagged in my other fics, check out this post! Sorry, but responses to this post asking to be tagged will be ignored, so send me an ask or like one of the taglist posts!

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[mcgrathandwives]

“You’re my hero remember.”

@kirsty585: “Supergirl couldn’t save everyone from a thing. Lena then finds out who Supergirl really is.”

A request that’s taken me too long to write sorry dude. I hope you like it my dude or at least are okay with it.  *Set in the 6 months since season 2’s ending and the start of season 3. Mon-El is gone, Supercorp is endgame don’t mess with me on that.* Lena and Kara are dating tho. Word Count: 1769 ___________________________ A thud bounced echoed behind Lena, she whipped around, concern written all over her face once her eyes fell on the slumped hero on her balcony. “SUPERGIRL! OH MY GOD!” In the corner of the balcony sat a broken looking Supergirl, her eyes red from crying, her tear tracks still fresh on her cheeks. The sight broke Lena’s heart in more ways than she could imagine. “I-I couldn’t do-it! I-I wasn’t fa-st enough! I-I let th-them down. I couldn’t do it.” *hiccup* “I-I let them down. I-I fai-led.” Pulling Kara into her strong arms, running her fingers through her hair in attempt to calm her down. “I’m right here.” The action caused Kara to break down again in Lena’s arms. It took Lena a solid 20 minutes to get Supergirl to calm down and bring her into her office. Lena got her sat down on her sofa, releasing the clips of her costume, causing her cape to fall to the over her sofas back. Pouring the physically shaking hero a glass of water, as she was a news report flashed across her tv screen. ‘10 CONFIRMED DEAD’ ‘Oh..’ Lena wanted to help but she didn’t know how. “Supergirl is there anyone I can call or anything I can do to help?”, her eyebrow raised when she noticed a familiar glint of panic on the hero’s face, shaking off her thoughts, she sat closer to the crying girl. “Miss Luthor I-I shouldn’t have come here, I’m sorry.” Getting up and clipping her cape back on, she turned to walk towards the balcony. “NO! No, I don’t want you to be alone with this weight on your shoulders, you already have to carry the city, the end of your planet and race, everything my family has ever put you through, please Supergirl, let me in, talk to me. I’m your friend.” Lena ran to stop the hero from leaving. “You need to de-stress Supergirl, everything you do, you need to talk to someone. So talk to me, I don’t have to be anywhere until later, Kara’s out reporting.” Guilt flashed across Supergirls face. “I-I should let you get to your girlfriend Miss Luthor, we can’t have Kara thinking you’d rather spend time with me than her.” Before Lena could stop her, Supergirl used her super speed to get to the balcony, as she was about to kick off she turned to Lena flashing her a small smile. Confusion was taking over, Lena couldn’t understand why Supergirl was being so strange when she mentioned Kara. ‘Kara might know what to do? She should be back by now surely? Maybe I’ll surprise her?’ Grabbing her coat and purse, she made her way down to her car with a spring in her step. Arriving at Kara’s apartment door confusion covered her more, the door was open slightly and muffled voices. Pushing the door fully open, bracing herself for any possibility awaiting her, she called girlfriend’s name. “Kar?” Lena was met with Alex in Kara’s kitchen, “Lena hey! Kara isn’t feeling too great she asked me to come over until you got here. So I’ll see you later. BYE KARA! Love you both.” Alex left pressing a kiss to Lena’s cheek. Kara came out of her room with her hair in a messy bun, her glasses hanging off her nose, sweats and Lena’s M.I.T sweater, waving to her sister as she closed the door. A light smile came over Kara’s face as Lena walked closer, opening her arms to welcome her girlfriend, holding her close. “How was work babe?” Taking a deep breath Kara smiled, “It was good Lee, how was your day?” Lena went on a 15 minute rant about everything that happened, Kara followed along partly until Lena brought up Supergirl. “She just looked so broken babe and it broke my heart, I mean there she is saving the city and then on my balcony crying her heart out, she looked like an abandoned puppy. Kar do you think she’s okay?” Kara tensed, something snapped in her. “Maybe she should’ve been faster. I mean she’s supposed to save the day and 10 people died in a building fire. I mean how can she call herself National City’s h-hero!” The hitch in Kara’s voice caught Lena’s attention, as Kara stood up she made her way towards her bathroom, Lena started pacing, putting little clues together. ’It can’t be?!’ As Kara came out, Lena spun on the spot pulling Kara into a passionate kiss- as if she was trying to convince them both everything is going to be fine. Kara was first to pull away, a smile gracing her lips the first genuine smile she’s had on her face since earlier. “Kar? Can I do something real quick?”, “Oh? What is it?” Pulling the hair tie from Kara’s hair- a picture started to form in Lena’s head, taking a deep breath Lena slowly pulled Kara’s glasses off. Kara clocked on to what was happening, shock and nerves ran through her system, “Lee?” No answer, just a blank stare. Lena was a blank canvas, Kara struggled to read her. Lena’s mouth opened and closed a few times, finally she spoke in a hushed tone. “Y-you’re h-her...you’re S-supergirl. Aren’t you?” Stepping out of Kara’s grasp, Lena waited for an answer, eventually Kara nodded slowly. 10 minutes had passed, they stood in the same spot. “Lena?” Kara’s body vibrated with every emotion. “Lena you have to let me explain..please?” Still no change in Lena’s demeanor. “I had to keep you safe, it’s only about keeping you safe, I-I know that you’ll safe you don’t need protecting but y-your’e my girlfriend a-and, and I need to keep you safe. You’re my one Lee.” Gently Kara stroked Lena’s cheek. Lena finally looked Kara in the eye, tears willing to fall- Kara instantly thought of the worst, she was racking her brain to come up with something to get Lena to listen to her but what she did surprised her. Wrapping her arms around Kara’s neck. “I don’t need to be protected Kara..I need honesty, I need you to be upfront and honest with me from now on okay? You’re the reason I’m alive, you’re the reason I’m here with you right now. Supergirl is cool yeah, she’s great but she is the city’s hero. You’re my hero remember? You’ve been by my side. You know me inside and out- don’t make a joke, wipe that smile off your face! What I’m saying is I love you Kara, you do everything and anything for anyone. I’m one lucky girl to know you but dating someone like you makes it all the more special. You being Supergirl doesn’t change anything- well except now you don’t have to change out of that outfit and you can fly about the apartments if you wanted but other than that nothing’s changed. I love more today than I did yesterday and I’ll love you more tomorrow, nothing’s going to change. But right now I need you to tell me what happened earlier, okay?” Pressing a soft kiss to Kara’s cheek. Pulling them both down Kara pulled her girlfriend close, despite her being slightly taller, Kara always felt better holding Lena against her, the way her head falls into Kara’s neck makes her heart do somersaults. Getting comfortable in her girlfriend’s arms. Lena now realised that Kara did this to keep her safe, if anything was to happen to them Kara would protect her no matter what, a smile graced her lips. For the first time in a long time she finally felt loved, cared for and protected. She felt normal. “Before I start you know I only flew to L-Corp because you were all I could think about right?” Lena nuzzled closer into Kara’s neck, her smile only growing more. “I do now, so tell me what happened babe.” Kara’s grip tightened. “Okay so, I got a call from Alex saying there was a rouge alien, he burned down different things all around the city. H-he was heading towards the school a-and all I could think about was the children, when we realised what school it was I freaked out. It-it was Ruby’s school Lee. S-so I flew down and fought him, I threw him a few blocks away, by the time he stood up I had already started clearing the streets and the buildings but there was one behind me, I-I wasn’t fast enough and h-he started a fire, I got 4 people out a-and I-I wasn’t- I wasn’t fast enough t-to s-save the others Lena. I-I was-wasn’t fa-fast enough.” Kara’s body shook violently against Lena’s. It took 10 minutes for Kara to calm down, by now it was close to midnight. Lena had managed to convince Kara to move from the sofa to the bed, Kara came out of the bathroom looking more relaxed, her cheeks were rosie and less puffed. Opening her arms, welcoming her girlfriend into her warm embrace, “I love you Kar.” A smile pulled at Kara’s face, “I love you too Lee. Are we okay with earlier?” Kissing Kara’s hairline, Lena squeezed her tightly. “I’m glad you told me babe really I am, I want nothing more than for you to be safe and happy, you’re my number one priority Kar. If that means worrying about you blowing out your powers or something like earlier happens again then I’ll be here for you. I’ll be by your side always Kara. Today you saved the lives of a lot of people, the city Kara. You save the city everyday. Don’t beat yourself up about it okay? Nobody blames you darling. Absolutely nobody blames you for anything that happened today. The city loves you, your family loves you, your friends love you and so do I. Now! Let’s get some rest because I have a feeling Supergirl is going to wanted and needed tomorrow and you never know maybe you’ll just have to save my ass again.” Finally for the first time today Lena heard Kara laugh and her heart was dancing with that they fell asleep, wrapped in each other's arms. Kara felt like a weight was lifted off her shoulders and Lena felt content knowing everything was going to be okay.