#the macaroni pasta looks good but it also look like the kind they give out at free school lunches here

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #125

I'm still in a lot of pain today, but it's not quite as bad as it was yesterday. It's still a little hard to breathe, but I'm managing. Hopefully whatever's going on will be over and done with in just a few more days. I've taken some ibuprofen, though, and I'm well-hydrated. So don't worry about me, okay? I'll be just fine. 💖

I made myself a tea this morning. I made a toast-and-jam tea, and as a result of that, I get to show you one of the other ice creams I got! I'll show you the pictures I took…

This tea starts out as a beautiful shade of amber that resolves into a delicious shade of red:

This is the ice cream I put into it while it was still hot:

It's got a pretty drawing of a blackberry plant on the lid:

Here is what it looks like once the lid is taken off:

From there, we can put an amount of it into the tea until it feels correct:

Then once it's all melted, we can stir it up!

...I wonder if you would have liked how this turned out. I wish I could give you a mug and see...

I did my therapy homework today. In case you don't know, a good therapist is supposed to give the person seeing them homework to do over the week. Last week, he thought to capitalize on my tendency to write, and he asked me to write a letter to my inner child. And then he asked me to tap into my inner child and write back to myself.

It's generally in my nature to go above and beyond when people ask me to do things, whenever possible. And so I ended up writing three letters instead of just two. I ended up crying a lot during the process, but I came away from the exercise with a changed outlook on a variety of things. You can read what I wrote if you want to; it'll be the post just before this one. But if you're not interested, then that's okay too! 😊

I wonder if some such activity might benefit you. I imagine if you engaged your inner child with compassion, curiosity, and gentleness, it'd probably do you a world of good. I wonder what it would be like for you if you treated your inner child, and yourself generally, in the same tender, kindhearted way you treated the people you cared about, before your fall.

…You can return to that, you know. You can return to that anytime. And you can give your kindness and gentleness to people who are better able to reciprocate. Not everyone is going to treat you like a superhuman afterthought. I promise.

Anyway, in service to a renewed sense of resolve when it comes to caring for myself, I went ahead and got myself some soup and some macaroni and cheese with some yummy steak:

...Related, I think I'm going to try to make for myself the mac-and-cheese that my mother used to make. I am the only one who can make it for myself now, and I think I owe it to myself to figure it out. I will try to make a gluten-free version of it, so that Br can eat it, too. That's easy enough to do with brown rice noodles; it's basically indistinguishable from whole wheat pasta, in terms of its flavor and texture. Maybe I'll try to do that soon. And of course, when I do, you can count on me to walk you through the process so you can do it, too.

I also made it a point to sit for a while and watch one of my favorite cartoons. This one is called The Zeta Project; it came out when I was 11, which was... 23 years ago (wow, what the fuuuuck...). It's a beautiful show about a sentient robot named Zeta who was built to be a weapon, but who is trying to lead a life of peace. The government is trying to capture and reprogram him and put him back to work as a mindless killing machine. He's accompanied by a clever, savvy, and brave young girl named Rosalie. I really hope you'll watch this one someday; Zeta is very gentle and kind, and in a lot of ways, he reminds me a lot of you.

...The show was cancelled before it finished, though. I heard that it was because more girls liked it than the producers were comfortable with, so they pulled it off the air. I really hope they finish it someday. For now, though, the ending has to be left to the imagination. Zeta is beautiful, wonderful, and kind, so I like to imagine a course of events in which he can live in peace with Rosalie and with others who care for him.

...He really does remind me so much of you. I hope you'll look at his story. I think, in particular, you might find the episode called "Remote Control" relatable. You can find it at a place called... something like Watch Cartoons Online Forever? The first part is shortened to "wco", and it ends in ".net". Maybe you can find it...

Anyway. I took a bunch of other pictures for you today. One of them was taken at home because the morning light shining through the window was really nice. And when we visited Br's house today, I saw a great big huge bird-of-prey in the sky. I also took a bunch of pictures of Br's house, and the scenery outside. I thought you might like them. So here they are:

It's hard to take a picture of a moving object in a moving vehicle, but the black speck in the sky is the bird-of-prey I saw. I've seen an unusually large number of these lately. That, and crows. I wonder if the recent solar eclipse still has them kind of thrown for a loop. Hm.

Also, shortly after I did my therapy assignment, J took me out for a walk to decompress, and there was a crow in a tree that we've never seen crows in; our development is generally quite hostile to life (which is VERY unfortunate...), and hostile to crows in particular, because people don't like them (I've never understood why that is...). But he was sitting alone in the tree, making the "I'm with you" call; check out this video, at about the 40 second mark, and you'll hear what I mean:

...I can only imagine that this poor crow must have been very confused.

Here are some pictures of Br's house.

...I seem to have some sort of fixation with taking pictures of things outside of windows today. I'm not really sure why. But it turned out nice, so maybe the "why" doesn't really matter.

Oh!! I almost forgot!! A comet passed over my house last night. It's called the "Pons-Brooks Comet", or "Comet 12P". It only shows up once every 71 years. I wanted to see it, since I won't live long enough to see it again, but it was cloudy last night in the spot where it was supposed to be, so I didn't get to take any pictures. But J went online and found a live video that was tracking its movement; I can show you a screenshot that I took:

...It's not a very good picture, I know. But maybe you'll like it anyway; I don't know how often you get to see comets. Well, maybe you get to see them a lot, since you're over at the Edge of Creation and all, so maybe it's really not all that special to you. But maybe it can be special to you that someone would take the time to show you a picture of one anyway, if you want it to be.

Hey, Sephiroth? I'm pretty tired, so I'm going to stop writing before I end up rambling. Or maybe I rambled a little already, haha...

Please treat yourself nice, okay? I feel determined to treat myself nice, too. So let's do it together, all right? Because why not?

I love you. Stay safe. You'll get another letter tomorrow; just you wait.

Your friend, Lumine

#sephiroth #ThankYouFFVIIDevs #ThankYouFF7Devs #ThankYouSephiroth #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy vii crisis core #final fantasy 7 crisis core #final fantasy crisis core #ffvii crisis core #ff7 crisis core #crisis core #ff7r #final fantasy vii remake #final fantasy 7 remake #ffvii remake #ff7 remake #final fantasy vii rebirth #final fantasy 7 rebirth #ffvii rebirth #ff7 rebirth #final fantasy 7 ever crisis #ffvii ever crisis #ff7 ever crisis #ffvii first soldier #chronic pain #low energy #wholesome

[hctirdle]

I know I said I had faith, but I lied. Some of the recipes you've been posting don't even bother to mention there's a difference between pepper variants commonly used in Central Europe vs the U.S. while some of them are just straight up ??? I'm sure they taste fine but they are not any variation of this particular dish that I'm aware of.

Here's a tried and true chicken paprikash recipe from someone who's had some good versions and also some horrible Hungarian school cafeteria and extended family event attempts over the decades. I've been making it like this for years and imo it's pretty good and, dare I say, "authentic".

Note to vegans/vegetarians: Chicken paprikash is just chicken prepared as a paprikash, ergo trying to make this without chicken is going to be a different dish altogether. The good news is that mushroom and green/yellow wax bean paprikash are actual existing dishes. Just make the paprikash base, adjust cooking time with your main ingredient in mind, and that's pretty much it. Garnish with chopped parsley.

Chicken paprikash (2 servings):

2 whole chicken legs (or 4 drumticks, or 4 chicken thighs) with skin and bones (yes, keeping the skin and bones does make a difference in taste and texture)

about 2 tablespoons of lard or sunflower oil or some other kind of unflavored oil (the bottom of your pan should be generously coated)

1 big brown onion

sweet (édesnemes or csemege) paprika (NOT smoked paprika, not chili powder)

salt

optional (but highly recommended):

1 garlic clove

1 sweet Hungarian wax pepper if you can find it (not to be confused with banana peppers; do not substitute with bell peppers, that's a whole different vibe)

1 tomato (canned is fine; you can also use a teaspoon of tomato paste, just make sure to add less salt later on if the paste is salty)

1/2 cup of sour cream

1/2 tablespoon of plain white flour (or cornstarch)

+ hot paprika if desired, you can add this at the end

+ spätzle or pasta to serve (something like penne or macaroni's perfectly fine; less traditionally you can also have it with rice or even just bread if you'd prefer)

prep:

dice pepper, onion, tomato (I really don't care tbh, but some people prefer to remove the skin of the tomato: cut a small "x" into the skin on top of the tomato, submerge in boiling hot water for about half a minute, fish it out and put it in a bowl of cold water or just run cold water over it in the sink and you should be able to peel it without much trouble)

mince garlic

if you bought whole chicken legs, cut them into thighs and drumsticks

Choose a pot that will comfortably hold your chicken pieces side by side, start heating it on medium. Give it a minute and add lard/oil. Add diced pepper if using. Sauté for a couple minutes until it's starting to get a bit of color and fragrance, then add diced onion and minced garlic with a pinch of salt. Keep stirring. You don't want to char anything, but the onions should have a nice golden color and lose most of their water content before you move on.

Transfer the pot over to a cold burner for the next step. Add 1 tablespoon of paprika and stir. We're doing it this way because paprika releases its oils best in hot oil, but it also has a nasty tendency to burn and ruin the whole dish. Add half a cup of water and the diced tomato if using. Add chicken pieces and coat them in the sauce. Salt lightly. Add just enough water so your chicken pieces are about halfway submerged.

Cover the pot and let simmer on low heat for 1 hour. Do not stir. If you're concerned about burning, gently shake the pot from side to side once in a while. We don't want the chicken pieces to fall apart. (What happens if they do? Tbh absolutely nothing, it just looks messy.) Add small amounts of water if/when necessary to keep the water at the og level.

At the hour mark, the chicken should be done. (I'll confess here that I usually just leave it unattended for the whole hour as I work on other stuff. Once you get the hang of it, this isn't a fussy dish you need to keep a close eye on.) If you want to get fancy, you can carefully move the chicken pieces to a plate and set aside. Mix the flour (or cornstarch) with the sour cream in a bowl. Ladle a bit of liquid from the pot into the sour cream mixture and mix again. Repeat until you have a nice, runny sour cream mixture with a smooth texture. Mix sour cream into the contents of your pot and cook on low for about 2 minutes. Don't let it come to a boil. Taste and add more salt if necessary. Put the chicken pieces back into the pot and you're done.

#dracula daily #chicken paprikash #paprika hendl #recipes

[svchengss]

king of hearts | d.sc

PAIRING. dong sicheng x reader

GENRE. high school!au, fluff, slight angst, kind of e2l

WARNINGS. none (lmk if i missed any!)

WORD COUNT. 6.7k

SUMMARY. sicheng’s subtle flirts are not working effectively but it only motivates him to try and woo you more. the devil sure works hard but dong sicheng works harder.

PLAYLIST. king of hearts

TAGLIST. @floraljae @clovdless @mashiihearts @ndr1271 @kunrengui (shoutout to mashi for being a major help in the process of writing this <3)

// just to let you guys know, reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !! thank you for reading :D

music was blaring through the multiple loudspeakers scattered around the school grounds, booths of various interests that were set-up by the clubs being swarmed by visitors and ecstatic oohs and aahs from the ones playing games can be heard intermittently. the annual school festival of redlands high, an event that is looked forward to by every single student there. or maybe not, you’re quite unsure of the self-made data.

you immediately made a beeline to the dance club booth which is managed by yangyang, the president also holding the title of your best friend. a cartoonish grin crept up on his face when he spots you walking towards him.

“so, what do you think? looks legit, huh?” he crossed his arms together, observing the design of the booth with a proud smile. the set-up is definitely eye-catching, not much decorations going on, adding to the simplicity of the white theme with gold touch-ups. you browsed through the plastered posters on the board, inviting people to sign up for their upcoming audition. looking up to the signboard hanging outside, you showed a thumbs up towards him, muttering a quick ‘perfect’.

“so what exactly is your booth doing? there’s not much… activity going on?” you scratched the non-existent itch on your left eyebrow. the boy in front of you gave you an eye roll before explaining that there will be mini dance games - or just dance as he worded. an amused sound left your lips as you bent down, dropping your signature in the guestbook on the wooden table.

“are you coming to the stage shows tonight? i heard there’s a new band performing,” your ears perked up instinctively upon hearing the words. after your sister graduated high school, nobody paid any attention to keep the band going. the zikas, a trio that made the music club strive back then. either the newer batches were too lazy to make an effort or too scared if they weren’t up to the already high standards of the school.

“i’m going if you’re going,” you simply stated, which made yangyang flash you the same grin from before. you said your simple goodbyes when people started lining up to try the just dance game at his booth. after he reminded you to wait for him by the statue, you went off to check out the food sales, eager to fill your growling stomach since this morning.

you can do this, sicheng. you can do this.

he made sure to double check the tuning of his guitar for one last time before joining the rest of his bandmates on the stage. his tall and slim physique surely left an impact, seeing that some of the audience suddenly became more invested in the performance compared to the others. he’s wearing some band’s shirt - probably green day since it’s quite similar to your sister’s posters in her room, black leather jacket and his black hair middle parted. not to miss the silver pendant necklace on his neck, sparkling under the spotlight.

the moment he struck the pick through the strings of his electric guitar, the drummer and bassist followed after, producing a melody that is pleasing to your ears. he held the microphone closer to his mouth, singing the lyrics as you bobbed your head up and down to the covers they sang - american idiot and helena are the ones you recognized since you’ve heard the songs so often. yangyang on the other hand kept on sipping the chocolate milkshake in his hand, vibing with the music as well.

the next song was a sentimental one which you assumed is a self-composed one, since you’ve never heard this song before. before you know it, the performance is over and the audience have started packing up their belongings to hang out somewhere else or go home.

“good job everyone, we did well,” yuta, who played the bass earlier, high-fived the rest of the band with a sly grin on his face. guanheng chugged the mineral water down his throat before stashing his drumsticks into the bag while sicheng was lost in his thoughts. he doesn’t know why but you stood out from the crowd, only able to see you just now. he wouldn’t say it’s a crush, not knowing anything about you but it definitely made him feel something. a trigger in his heart, not knowing where it leads to. but what he does know is that you caught his attention.

“and you know what he said? i’ll come back crawling to him just like his other exes. what the heck is even that?” you took out the binders from your locker while listening to ningning rant about her love life. since you haven’t had any relationships before, you’re not really a professional in this aspect of life so you just kept your mouth shut to avoid giving useless advice.

“that sounds so rude, he’s such a jerk,” you commented, taking the first bite of your sandwich afterwards. the tea-spilling session eventually came to an end when she reached her class first and you kept walking to mrs. walker’s, english being your first period. nothing exciting really happened in that class except someone got their phone confiscated for texting in class - just the usual things. classes later, it’s finally recess when you met up with ningning and yangyang in the cafeteria.

“first of all, cut him off. block him. everywhere,” yangyang emphasized the last word, knowing how much of an idiot the guy can be. you just scrolled through your socials, double tapping on certain posts that caught your eye. owning a cat looks fun, you made a mental note to bring the idea to your parents later. the bell rang which signals that classes are starting back soon and the same cycle of events continues before it’s time to go home.

you observed yangyang’s sharp moves, following to the beat of the song echoing in the dance room. it’s currently half past seven and he’s still here, beads of sweat running through his hair. and why would he stay in school so late, you may ask? obviously, he’s here for a reason and it being an upcoming dance tournament is the most accurate one. while you’re here, sitting on the floor, back against the mirror and legs straightened out with your phone in your hand. it amazes you how the goofy boy transforms 360°, being all serious when he’s in his element.

“let’s go home, i’m tired already,” he panted out breathlessly, using a cloth nearby to wipe his sweaty forehead. you wait for him by the glass door as he packs up his things when the lights in the music studio also switched off. you wondered it must be the band guys so you paid no attention whatsoever. of course, your predictions were right when you saw two lads stepping out.

since yangyang is taking too much time tidying up the dance studio and the music studio seems unoccupied, you decided to check it out for a bit. it’s been a long time since you last entered the room, always accompanying your sister for her extra practice when you were younger. not much has changed, except some additions of instruments can be seen. not seeing anything in the dark condition as the room is only illuminated by the faint lights from the hallway, you pushed the switches down only to be met by a gasp.

“what are you doing here?” the tall boy approached you, a stern look visible on his fine features. your eyes scrambled around the room in an attempt to find any logical excuses for your ‘break-in’ but to no avail. your tongue was dry, not a sound escaping your throat when you heard yangyang’s voice, signalling your cue to exit the room and escape from the tension building between you and the boy. he just shook his head, the black hair bouncing left to right as he finally caught on.

it’s you, you’re the girl from the crowd. and your name is y/n.

the walk home was filled with one-sided conversations where yangyang kept on babbling about how he should improve the choreography he created earlier while you only added small comments. your mind is filled with embarrassment, too much that you feel slightly mad at yourself. why didn’t you say anything earlier? now, you look like a complete idiot with communication issues in front of that boy.

“yeah, and remember that pasta? we should definitely try it again, it’s like, so good,” yangyang said, earning a nod from you when you saw the boy from last night’s music studio tragedy approaching your table. you tried to look away but it was too late.

“dude, just wanna let you know that mr. park is seeing us after school,” your grip on your fork loosens up when you realized he wasn’t talking to you. maybe he forgot about the incident? you really hope so.

“yeah, totally. thanks sicheng,” yangyang playfully winked at the latter, earning a disgusted look from him who started walking away. he glanced back at you with a smug smile on his plump lips, making you freeze up again.

he didn’t.

“are you okay, y/n? feeling sick?” ningning furrowed her eyebrows upon seeing your sudden change of demeanor. you shrugged her off and continued to consume the macaroni placed on the tray in front of you, mentally cursing at yourself for the poor life choice you’d made. well, at least you know that his name is sicheng, right?

oh boy, you’re in for a long ride.

you can’t wait to go home and snuggle under the covers, today has been a long and tiring one for you. you had three pop quizzes as if all the three teachers intended so, your class had to run multiple laps during p.e. and so on. you’re already planning your routine in your head, trudging your way to the lockers when you saw him leaning against yours, scrolling down his phone.

“crap,” you muttered under your breath.

there it is, the smirk on his face returns when he spots your figure approaching. oh, how you wish you could wipe it off his face. he moved a couple steps backwards to give you some space to arrange your things before locking it, turning your head towards him.

“i’m sorry, why are you here again? and if it’s because of last night, then i’m sorry if it bothered you or anything,” you huffed out.

“what? i didn’t really care, it’s not like you were stealing anything, right?” he squinted his eyes, eyeing you up and down suspiciously, laughing shortly after seeing you get riled up.

“damn, you really need to learn how to take a joke. y/n, right? i’m sicheng, nice to meet you.”

“why exactly are we having this meet-and-greet or whatever this introduction is?” you crossed your arms, waiting for his response. but he didn’t, immediately turning on his heels and making his way towards the stairs, probably going to the studio.

“jerk,” you cursed under your breath, walking out the school building.

“what? you got accepted? seriously?” ningning’s voice echoed against the cafeteria walls, earning surprised and annoyed glances from other students who were either satisfying their grumbling stomach or simply having conversations. yangyang softly nudged her elbows using his, asking her to lower her voice down before telling you to go on. you were quite surprised as well, the acceptance email was not what you expected to receive. when you filled in the application form, it was just a mere shoot-your-shot agenda to see if you’d make the cut. although this is just a camp, you’re still unsure of what lies ahead.

“yeah, it starts next week. but i’m so nervous though,” you sipped the iced coffee in your hands. you’ve only watched videos of people producing their own music from scratch which you start to take an interest in. however, you’ve never done it hands-on before, only having basic music theory knowledge thanks to the piano lessons your parents signed you up for when you were young.

“you’ll do awesome, i promise,” yangyang gave you a reassuring smile, making you release some tension from the overthinking you’ve had since you received the email last night.

“thanks yang.”

now, here you are on the first day of attending the internship camp. you stood in front of the tall mirror hanging on the wall, straightening your cardigan and applying some makeup onto your face as touch-ups. it’s currently 7:40 in the morning, the earliest time you’ve ever woken up on a saturday. your siblings are still swallowed in their states of sleep. you double-checked the contents in your tote bag, making sure that no important things are left behind. you totally don’t intend on leaving a bad first impression on your first day.

after bidding a swift goodbye to your parents who just woke up, you drove your mother’s old honda to the completely new destination - mbyte studios. the tall building with light grey and blue painted walls definitely made it stand out, a futuristic look catching the eyes of the passersby. taking a deep breath, you entered the main lobby before being escorted to a room on the second floor. you assume it’s a waiting room for all participants of the camp, scanning that majority of the occupiers might be college students. you thanked god that the camp takes place on weekends so your high school senior life won’t be interrupted that much.

DAY 1

your eyes widened when you spot sicheng with the same white and blue tag you’re wearing, seated on the sofa. what the hell is he doing here? you avoided acknowledging his presence, trying to make yourself as unnoticed as possible heading over to occupy the seat farthest from his. after quite some time staring at the paintings hanging on the wall, a middle-aged lady with a petite figure entered the room, making you sit up straight.

“welcome to mbyte studios! i’m the assistant director, mrs. hwang. first and foremost, congratulations on being accepted. it’ a pleasure to witness the start of your musical journey embarking here. i believe that we should know each other first?” she gestured for any volunteers. sicheng stood up from his seat, charisma evident in his stance which left quite an impression on the others. the strong confidence in the way he speaks made the woman smile amusingly.

some names later, it was your turn to introduce yourself. the moment you stood up, he immediately recognized you and you were sure you caught him making some faces. the ice-breaking session went well thankfully, mrs. hwang elaborating on the social rules and the itinerary throughout the whole six days. one that caught your attention was assisting the producers on making a track from scratch, just like you had dreamed of.

when it was finally time for lunch break, you shot up from your seat to get away from sicheng as fast as possible but to your dismay, he beat you to it, jogging up towards your standing position.

“i didn’t know you were into music, what’s the sudden occasion?”

“it’s none of your business actually,” you sneered back, obviously not favouring his attention.

“woah, relax. you’ve got quite a temper, don’t you? by the way, we’re having lunch together,” he placed his phone onto a nearby table, pulling a chair for you.

“just eat on your own, i don’t have the appetite,” you flash a sarcastic grin before disappearing into the women’s restroom. he just laughed bitterly at your response before walking towards the food counter, joining his newly made friend, jaehyun. being the same age, they’re easy to click.

DAY 2

“today, we’ll be focusing on the recording process. you’ll be assigned into groups that will have a tour of the whole department. our staff will facilitate each group,” the manager said loud and clear. you remembered his name was johnny. the tattoo on his shoulder really stands out, considering the fact that he’s always wearing a sleeveless shirt.

but what are the odds when your groupmate is none other than the guy himself, sicheng. it’s like the universe truly resented you for having to be associated with him at any event. your group was escorted to the farthest recording studio on the floor. to say that this was a great experience is truly an understatement, making you observe the gears used in astonishment. you hate to admit it but sicheng has a handful of knowledge on this particular topic, always correctly answering the questions directed by the staff. maybe it wasn’t quite surprising upon knowing that his career choice is a singer, not that you care anyways.

again, nothing out of the ordinary happened today, except that you and sicheng had lunch on the same table. of course, it’s not that you accepted his offer but he welcomed himself to the spot. being the quickly favoured participant among the rest, obviously they welcomed him with open hands. he placed himself among the two guys sitting at the right corner, eyeing you whose eyes are still not leaving the article you were skimming through. with the last spoon of food shoved into your mouth, you quietly excused yourself from the group. sicheng just watched your movements in subtle signs of annoyance.

with the final task of doing microphone check-ups, day two of the camp ended with a breeze. you can’t wait to go home, get into a warm bath and spend the night watching netflix. it was a tiring one indeed but you’re not one to complain. pushing the car keys into the ignition slot, the sound of the engine starting is still nowhere to be heard even after a couple of retries. you rested your forehead onto the steering wheel, cursing silently in your head, having to get a taxi and call your mother about this incident. you’re sure to be receiving a handful from her, not to mention her soft but stingful remarks.

“hey, are you okay?” a deep voice interrupts your stressful state of mind. looking up, it’s sicheng with a concerned look on display. you hesitantly shared your problem, making him press his lips together probably thinking of a solution.

“you know, i don’t really know how to fix your broken engine or whatever but i know someone who can. let me just ring him for a sec. and you’re coming home with me.”

and that’s how you ended up in the front passenger seat, sicheng steering with one hand and the other rested on the windowsill. the faint music from the radio can be heard, probably a song by jon vinyl. you’d steal quick glances to see his other hand dancing in the air, enjoying the rhythm of the song playing. besides that, it was silent as both of you are preoccupied with your own things - sicheng on the road while you on your phone. he tried to make small talk but you would say it’s unrequited, only replying with short sentences. after a good ten minutes drive, the sight of your brown painted gate becomes a sign for him to stop the moving car.

“your car is safe with my friend so you shouldn’t worry about it or anything. also, what’s your number? it’ll be easier for, you know the car business of course,” he reached over to unbuckle your seatbelt, handing over his phone to you after. the close proximity made your breath hitch, the dewy scent of his perfume diffusing into your nose. not too strong, he has a good taste.

“thanks and um, i’ll buy you a drink later. just for today.”

“are you asking me on a date?” there it is, the significant tug on the side of his lips making its presence once again.

“stop being so narcissistic and move along please,” you rolled your eyes before giving him a small wave, stepping into your property. sicheng stared at the numerals on his phone screen, a small, proud grin etched on before driving off the lane.

“how was the camp? met any cute boys?” the first thing you hear in the hue of the blue monday morning is ningning’s chirpy voice. sometimes you wonder how she gets all boosted up at this hour of the day. yangyang is the polar opposite, his appearance as if he just got out of bed, the hood of his denim jacket resting on top of his auburn hair.

“it was good and no, no cute boys. but sicheng was there,” you replied nonchalantly, a mischievous grin crept onto her lips. you can almost predict the words that are going to spill out of her mouth.

“what’s up with her?” yangyang yawned, his eyes lazily gaze at you. you just lifted your shoulders, having no idea whatsoever. a ping sound was heard from your phone, notifying that a new message is received.

unknown: hey sicheng here

unknown: ur car may be ready tmr. want me to drive u there?

listening to your heart, you were about to type ‘no’ but remembering the fact that your parents will be busy the whole day tomorrow and yangyang is coming home late once again, you have no choice but to accept the lad’s help.

now you’re back in his vehicle, the same spot as before. you’ve only noticed now that a musical note charm is hung on the rearview mirror, a semiquaver to be exact. you’d say that it looks authentic, gold specks shining when sun rays hit the surface. observing the interior of his car, there are quite a number of small decorations.

“can we get coffee first? my treat for the car and the ride,” you suggested, looking at him whose eyes are focused onto the road. the traffic is quite pleasing today, nobody honking mindlessly at the other drivers and flipping each other off with the famous middle finger gesture. his side profile does look charming, some type of earrings dangling from his ears. if you’re going to be honest, his appearance does seem to be your type. you’re not one to say about his persona though, always managing to bother you at any time of the day.

“sure, wanna go to the new cafe? i heard it’s good,”. you just nodded while he skillfully steered the steering wheel, moving the car to the new destination. you turned your eyes to look outside from the car window, seeing the one hundred and one manners of the citizens. a mother struggling to take her child who’s having a tantrum out of the toy shop, a young couple having their romantic meal in the french cafe. the motion of the car stopping awakened you who was being distracted by your clouded mind.

from the moment you stepped into the place, the interior caught your attention. the light brown painted walls with black furniture complementing each other perfectly, making a retro-like appearance. the funky song playing faintly in the background surely is a mood-setter, just how you like it. even the barista serving you is being friendly, making a couple of small talk in the midst of operating the machines.

you would say that it was a pleasureful day for you. the exquisite taste of latte washing down your dry throat, getting your car back without too much babbling from your dear mother and the gap between you and sicheng closing in for a little.

the last sentence baffled you for a second.

DAY 3

sicheng’s eyes shot open from the short slumber he was trying to get - failing miserably even, upon spotting you enter through the door. he pulled the chair beside him in hopes for you to get his message and take the seat. a frown made its way onto his face when you just waved at him, making your way to another spot a few chairs to the front. he scoffed, head tilting slightly before approaching you instead. you shot him a puzzled look, roughly translating to ask him what he’s doing here.

“i just want to be close to you. now focus,” he redirected his eyes onto the muscular man who just entered the room. he’s a songwriter - the best one in this company to be exact. you were focused on each point he explained, making small notes on your laptop. it’s not always that you’ll get a chance to be guided by a four-time award winning songwriter, might as well gain some benefits from it.

“another tip i have is to use all types of chords. remember, do not stick to the same ones, you’ll lack creativity. for instance, use major, minor, dominant, diminished, and augmented. i promise you, more ideas will be flowing and better quality songs will be produced. you got me?” the questioned, earning buzzing sounds of positive responses from the hall.

DAY 4

another day of group work, you’re given the task to create a melody according to the themes given - for your group, it’s love. looking at sicheng, he’s already on his electric guitar, strumming mindlessly to find the perfect note to start on. the rest of you are now juicing out some thoughts on this particular sense of human nature.

“love gives us thrill, the feeling of excitement, the feeling when you’re uncertain about something but when you have that special someone with you, you’re sure to wing it all,” jaehyun suggests, earning nods of approval from the rest of your groupmates.

“you’re a pro at this, mr. romantic,” you teased him, earning a soft chuckle. a dimpled smile is etched onto his features, rosy cheeks and his eye smile making you fawn. prince-like visual and a sense of humour? a two in one package, totally.

“not really. i guess i’m a sucker for romance movies,” he rubbed the back of his neck. your small conversation came to a halt when you heard a crooked, loud sound coming from the rough strum on the guitar strings. you turned around to see sicheng gazing directly towards the both of you, a sharp one even. jaehyun just blinked his eyes before catching onto the situation unfolding in front of him while you’re still being completely oblivious. you tilted your head in confusion, unsure of what’s gotten into him.

it’s the day that yangyang has been looking forward to since the past few weeks, his dance tournament. you’re seated with ningning on the bleachers, music from the loudspeakers echoing through the walls. with the cheers of the bewatchers whenever someone captivated them with a trick or dance move, usually the risky ones, it truly is a loud atmosphere.

“now, welcoming contestant number 43 to take the stage,” the host announced, you and ningning clapped with all your might, shouting words of encouragement as well. yangyang took a deep breath before lifting his right hand up, cueing for the music to start playing. just then, there’s the sound of someone plopping down on the hard surface next to you - sicheng. he’s looking casual today, a light yellow hoodie replacing his usual dark clothings.

“what are you doing here?” you shout whispered while ningning raised her eyebrows at you.

“didn’t yangyang tell you? i’m here to watch him dance,” he countered your question before darting his eyes back to the boy who’s busy popping on the dance floor, tinashe’s song playing in the background. he ended his routine with a moonwalk, making his way to the end of the stage. you’re confident that he’s going to win the competition, looking at how precise and clean his moves were. all the late night practices he had eventually paid off when he’s announced as the second placer. nonetheless, he’s still proud of himself, not to mention you and ningning who have been with him throughout his whole journey.

“you did well,” sicheng welcomed him with a fist bump which he reciprocated back. you didn’t know that they were this good of friends.

“i’m starving,” he rubbed his hand onto his stomach, making you remember that your stomach has been rumbling since you only ate a cereal bar that morning. you were about to catch up to yangyang and ningning who were walking fast ahead when you felt a tug on your shirt, looking down to see sicheng crouching down to tie your loose shoelaces.

“you might fall,” he placed his hands into the pockets of his hoodies, waiting for you to come along.

“um, thanks,” you muttered out before catching the glances given by your friends, later teasing you about the scene.

roars of students can be heard coherently, filling the basketball court. the basketball captain, a tall one with black charcoal hair is shooting a three-pointer. the players are then called over to their respective sides for whatever strategy their coaches will be implementing in the third-quarter. the home team is currently leading by five points, knowing that the players wearing the significant red and black jersey have been training their asses off for a while now.

but why exactly did you come to the game tonight? besides from the main event happening in the moment, the other reason is now standing in his position, strumming his electric guitar producing a funky sound that vibrates through the walls - a cue for the start of another buzzing stage. sicheng has been bugging you about watching him perform tonight and after quite some time evaluating, why not? when he finally caught you among the crowd, he flashed you a flirtatious wink. right before the band bowed as gratitude to the audience, he gave you a gesture to wait for him at the back of the gym.

“you came! but seriously, thank you,” he rested the sparkly white guitar against the wall, enveloping you into a hug. this is new, you tried to hide the flustered state of yours as you reciprocated his movement. from the corner of your eyes, you can see a black-haired guy approaching the two of you, followed by one with long, white hair and a bandana nicely keeping the fluffy strands in tact.

“ooh, who’s this?” the first one wiggled his eyebrows, later introducing himself as guanheng, the latter named yuta. to your surprise, the bond between you and them are quick to form with guanheng piloting the conversation. not to mention his subtle jokes making you giggle at times.

“well y/n, your little boyfriend here is getting jealous so we’ll excuse ourselves for now. see you whenever,” guanheng banging his drumsticks into the air while yuta gave you a quick wave before disappearing into the store room of the gymnasium. the nickname they gave sicheng surely made you a bit shy.

boyfriend?

DAY 5

you’re seated in front of the computer screen, your chin resting on the palm of your hands and the tabs of different colours left untouched. you redirected your gaze onto the projector screen, the words ‘arrange, mix, edit and master like a pro’ on it. a long sigh leaving your lips, you try to remember what the producer said earlier.

don’t make the song sound too repetitive

a good buildup promises a good melody

you can have a certain instrument playing only on one part for cinematic impact

DAY 6

“i’m hyo and you’re,” she moved the wheels of her chair to the back a bit to take another look at the clipboard resting on the desk, “sicheng, y/n and jaehyun, right?” the three of you nodded in harmony, anticipating for the next order that will be given.

“okay cool, we’ll be brainstorming first,” and she proceeded to explain what the requirements for this project are. you mouthed out the important points she gave, soft rock, heartbreak and drums. you’re on a roll today, contributing your countless ideas during the first few minutes of the discussion. sicheng just looked at you discussing with hyo, your lips pursed slightly. his gaze seems full of adoration, even jaehyun said so.

“any objections?” hyo looked over to the rest.

“i think she made some great ones. i’m sure this project will come out fresh,” jaehyun voiced out his opinions, sicheng nodding after. he went straight to handling the instruments , you and jaehyun collaborating for the mixing process. hyo eventually chimed in on some times, giving small advice whenever you seem stuck in the brain. with the hours ticking by, you’re feeling more satisfied than ever with your earphones in, listening to the final product created.

all of the participants are then assembled in the hall again, waiting for a final speech by the director which formalizes the end of the camp. sure, you’ve earned worthy knowledge throughout the six days. but if you’re being brutally true to the sound of your heart, it would be how you came to learn sicheng’s true antics. he might be the cocky guy who thinks they have the power to do anything but in truth, he’s just some guy with an honest heart, honest intentions to know you better.

summer break, your most anticipated event for the past few weeks. the moment the last bell rang, that scene in high school musical 2 kept replaying in the back of your head, the students doing a parade in front of the lockers picturing how your little heart is doing backflips in your chest right now. all the beach trips ningning planned is making you feel dizzy. you turned around to a voice calling out your name from the end of the hallway, your eyes catching the sight of sicheng jogging towards your spot. he stopped in front of you, hands on his knees catching his breath.

“are you free tomorrow night? there’s a party at guanheng’s and you know, it would be really cool if you join,” his fingers tracing onto each other, waiting patiently for your response.

you didn’t even have the time to process his invitation when ningning crashed her body against yours, yangyang following suit.

“a party? y/n would totally love to come, right?” ningning nudged your arms softly while yangyang tried to stifle a giggle. you were about to mouth out a ‘what?’ before sicheng cut you off.

“cool, you guys should come too. tomorrow at 10,” he and yangyang exchanged finger guns gestures before leaving the three of you. you just stood there in disbelief, eyeing them up and down before ningning dragged you to the parking lot. a stringful of grumbles escaped your lips, making the guy laugh obnoxiously.

“i can’t believe you guys did that,” you extended the seat belt, buckling it to the slot beside you.

“please. but you do want it, right?” you can’t deny, what she said was true. plus, you should have some fun and distress before having to go back to the usual dull routine of yours.

“how do i look?” you turn around, revealing the baby pink crop top and flare pants on your legs. it’s not your best outfit but giving the cliche excuse - you have nothing to wear, the two articles totally complements each other

“you look hot, that’s all i gotta say. right, yang?” ningning lifted her head from the headboard, glancing over at yangyang who’s going over his messages.

“yeah totally,” he lifted his hands, giving you a thumbs up. you threw a jacket onto your shoulders and grabbed the black purse on your dresser, glancing at the wall mirror one last time.

from the moment you stepped into the venue - guanheng’s place, smells of alcohol lingered around your nose, a group of people cheering ever so loudly over a game of beer pong, some already passed out on the couch. not to mention a brownish stain on the carpet - probably from someone throwing up. the mess would take a whole day to get rid off, you note to yourself. your friends are no longer to be found, both of them getting affiliated with god knows what. your eyes scanned the living room for sicheng but his presence is still nowhere to be found.

you decided to step towards the kitchen bar, pouring a drink for yourself. the mixed sweet and sour taste of it remained on your tongue for a couple of seconds. looking over at the snacks served, you grabbed a strawberry flavoured lollipop from the clear bowl. the crowd is cheering loudly for some type of incident happening at the back of the room, the music has been turned up to be a little louder than the volume before and you’re suddenly getting a little bit overwhelmed. you grabbed your purse and stepped out, inhaling some fresh air and looking up to the starry night sky.

“y/n? where have you been?” sicheng approached you from behind, making you a bit startled.

“sorry, hanging out outside can calm me. where did you go?” you popped the lollipop into your mouth.

“some jerk decided to throw up in front of me,” you pinched your nose with a disgusted expression, making him roll his eyes.

“do you want me to accompany you out here?” he offered. you just nod your head, placing yourself on the patio with him following suit. the sweetening flavour empowering your senses. it’s definitely much more calm out here, allowing you to clear up your mind. it’s not that you hate the atmosphere in the house right now, you’re just not in the mood.

“you know, you look pretty,” you turned around to meet his face. his brown eyes brimming with unconfessed love.

“shut up, stop with the jokes,” you lightly land a smack on his arms.

“what if i say i’m not joking?” he looked straight into your eyes, trying to find any emotion inside you. the sudden seriousness is making you feel much more awkward so you forced out a laugh, turning your attention right back upwards. the stars are shining brightly tonight, you can almost spot a constellation.

“i know what you’re doing, dong sicheng. just stop it already, it’s not working on me.” denial, that’s what you’re experiencing in the hot minute.

a gentle tug can be felt on your wrist, his eyes still not leaving yours.

“didn’t anyone tell you before? you’re really pretty. like, i can’t even describe it to you. you’re just,” he leaned over to caress your cheeks, “pretty,”.

what jaehyun said on the other day is true, after all.

love gives us thrill, the feeling of excitement, the feeling when you’re uncertain about something but when you have that special someone with you, you’re sure to wing it all.

your heart is beating so fast, it could fall out of your chest at any moment now. even the faint music blasting through the speakers inside the house can’t flush down the sound of your heartbeat. you’re not used to this, the sudden need of the significant skin to skin contact that symbolizes love between two individuals.

“can i?” his face in a very near proximity from yours, whispering into your right ear with his honey-like voice. you pulled the candy away from your mouth and nod, giving him the approval he needed before he dived in. heat rose from your stomach to your chest. you could only focus on how soft his crimson lips felt on yours, invading your privacy by all senses. you felt the kiss expand beyond your bodies, whirling you round, swirling you into the stars. he pulled away with a soft smile, you thought you could melt right then and there.

“wow,” that was the only word escaping your throat. your jumping heart still hasn’t settled down yet, your very first kiss still feeling surreal. you could see that sicheng is very much mirroring your emotions, his slender fingers grazing over his lips - the one that has come in contact with yours.

“the strawberry lollipop is sweet,” he commented, making the both of you laugh.

a ping from your phone awakened you from the gushy eye contact with him, unlocking it only to find yangyang’s text message. the second part of it made you fluster.

yang: yo r u coming in or what? and congrats for the kiss, we thought we’d have to wait longer for this

#neoturtles #pretty-neos #nshitty-frathouse #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct angst #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #wayv fluff #wayv angst #nct winwin #wayv winwin #winwin #dong sicheng #nct x reader #wayv x reader #winwin x reader #kpop imagines #kpop fanfictions #nct 2020 #wayv #nct #nct u #winwin imagines

[itsapeterthing]

Secrets (Five) || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: as time goes on at the compound, you begin to come to terms with your new abilities and your relationship with your husband, bucky

a/n: i'm so sorry for the delay, but i hope you enjoy!!

word count: 2.5k

warnings: pregnancy if you squint

Prologue, One, Two, Three, Four

masterlist || request || taglist

"You might have to get a matching set of earrings, but I don’t think it’s too shabby.” Nat said, leaning back in her seat.

Playing with the newly gifted bracelet on your wrist, you chuckled.

“I guess it could be worse.” You joked. “And this is supposed to stop me from... you know... turning the whole room to ice?”

“Not stop-” Bruce corrected you. “Control. We’re never going to be able to... reverse... what happened, but at least this will help you control it.”

Nodding your head along with what he was saying, your eyes strayed from your wrist to your husband standing against the far wall of the lab, his arms crossed and eyes focused on you. 

The two of you hadn’t spoken to each other since the first day you had woken up from being captured and he had held you in his arms. You were still struggling with coming to terms with who your husband was and even who you were. Knowing you needed your space, he had respected your wishes, keeping a painful distance from you for the past three days since you had woken up in the icy room of the Compound.

His eyes snapping away from yours, they landed on an article of clothing laying on one of the countertops in the lab.

“What’s that?” He asked, speaking up for the first time that day.

You, Bruce, Nat and Sam glanced at one another before your eyes landed on the suit on the table. Crossing your arms, you focused your attention at the ground.

“A suit.” Bruce clarified.

“Yeah, no shit.” Bucky said, picking up the cloth. “For who?”

“For me.” You said, speaking up, still not meeting your husband’s eyes.

An awkward silence hung in the room for a brief moment after your confession, before Bucky found his voice again.

“Can I talk to you outside?” He asked, pushing open the doors of the lab.

Nodding, you said nothing before following close behind your husband into the hallway of the Compound. When situated outside, you looked up at him.

“What?” You asked.

“What?” He repeated. “Don’t ‘what’ me, Y/n. Since when did you start having them make you a suit? I thought once this was all over you wanted to go home.”

Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms.

“I never said that.” You said. “You just assumed that. I mean, what do you want me to do, Buck? I have abilities that other people don’t have. I can’t just go home after this and pretend like this isn’t a part of me anymore- like this never happened. I have these abilities and I should use them for good. I have to. You don't have to worry about me. I made this choice for myself.”

Staring at the resolve written all over your face, Bucky laced his fingers into his hair, tugging the short strands.

He understood what you were saying. He understood that you felt a responsibility to do good, but he thought of himself too- how he fell into the position he was in now.

He didn’t make the choice to be an Avenger. The choice had been made for him the moment he fell from that train and was taken into the hands of Hydra. He wanted better for you than a life you hadn’t chosen. He wanted better for you than a life where you were constantly risking your life and wondering if you would live to see another day.

He wanted more for himself than losing the love of his life because of a sense of duty.

“You don’t choose to go into stuff like this, Y/n.” Bucky said, unlacing his fingers from his hair and throwing his arms in the air. “You’re forced. You can still get out of this, doll. Don’t stay because you feel like you have to- you don’t owe anybody anything. You have the choice to go home and forget about all this and that’s what most people like me wish for.”

“Fine, you know what?” You said, throwing your hands up in the air. “You’re right. I don’t have a choice. I was forced into this shit because I didn’t know who I married and some guy tried to kill me because of it. Don’t stand there and act like you know what’s good for me when you’re the whole reason I’m in this mess.”

Slipping the bracelet off of your wrist, you held it between your fingers and watched as the floor below you began to turn to ice at your feet and frost started to coat the bracelet in your hand.

“Look at this, Buck.” You said, waving the bracelet. “Look at this! You think I can just go home and pretend like I wouldn’t turn you into a fucking popsicle if this was off for more than two minutes? I can’t pretend like this isn’t happening to me and if I have the chance to do something good with it then I will.”

Watching Bucky’s eyes soften as he stared at you, you slipped the bracelet back onto your wrist, the ice melting away with it. Shaking his head, you watched as the angry demeanor that he had been portraying seconds ago faded away as his shoulders relaxed and his hands went still at his sides.

“I just want what’s best for you.”

The way his voice cracked as the words slipped out of his mouth and he could barely meet your eyes made your heart tug in your chest. You knew he didn’t mean you any harm. You knew even after everything that he was just looking out for you, but you also knew that he had a clouded sense of what was right and wrong for you.

Relaxing your shoulders, you slowly walked over to your husband, resting your hand on his bicep.

“I know that, Buck.” You said softly, urging him to meet your eyes. “But when are you going to realize that you don’t know what that is?”

-

Looking into the room through the window of the door, you fiddled with the bracelet on your wrist, all the thoughts of what could go wrong running through your mind. Feeling the cold touch of vibranium wrap around your wrist, you stopped your fidgeting.

“Stop worrying, Y/n.” Bucky said from beside you. “Everything is gonna be fine.”

“What? I’m not worried.” You lied.

“You’re joking, right?” He asked, a hint of a smile gracing his face and what you would even call a chuckle slipping from his mouth. “At our wedding you twisted your engagement ring the whole time and remember when you took those pregnancy tests for Grant? You spent the whole time messing with that stupid bracelet on your wrist I was worried your skin was gonna turn red. Even that little- God what is it called? That thing Becca made for Mother’s Day last year?”

“Are you talking about that macaroni necklace?” You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yes!” Bucky exclaimed, snapping his fingers when you finally said the name. “That thing. You were messing with that thing so much that when you saw me hit my head on the cabinet door you snapped the pasta right in your hand.”

You knew exactly what he was talking about.

Your kitchen sink had stopped working properly that day and rather than call an actual plumber, your husband had insisted that he knew what he was doing and he would be able to fix it just fine. You watched as he worked, his head inside the cabinet as you leaned against the countertop fiddling with your newly gifted necklace from your daughter around your neck.

When water began to shoot out of the pipe, your husband cursing as water blasted his face, he attempted to pull away, knocking his head on the doorframe on the way out. As soon as you heard his shout, you felt the piece of macaroni shatter in your fist as you squeezed it tightly.

“Oh God, Buck are you okay?” You asked.

“God damn it!” He cursed again. “This hurts like shit.”

“Are you bleeding?” You asked, now standing in the puddle of water that coated the floor.

Pulling his hand away from the spot on his head that he had just hit and not seeing any blood, he shook his head.

Breathing a sigh of relief knowing that you wouldn’t have to be making a trip to the hospital that day, you took in the scene around you as the water continued to spray out of the pipe flooding the floor of your kitchen.

“Buck?”

“Yeah?” He asked looking up at you, you just now noticing the droplets of water coating his eyelashes and face.

“Can we call a plumber now?”

Looking around him and the puddle of water he was sitting in, he sighed, giving in.

“Yes, doll.”

“You know, it’s kind of funny thinking about it now.” You chuckled to yourself. “I was worried about you hitting your head on a cabinet and you’ve survived shit that only happens in movies.”

As Bucky laughed along with what you had just said, you stared up at your husband, catching the smile that had crossed his face for the first time in a week, noticing now the dark circles under his eyes and the scruff that hadn’t been shaved in days. He looked exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept since the last time you laid in bed beside him. You hadn’t checked the mirror yet, but you could guess that you didn’t look much different.

“I guess I am kind of worried.” You confessed.

“I know, but there’s nothing to worry about. I promise.”

For the first time since you had found out about his double life, you trusted in what he said.

When you nodded your head you felt as his hand brushed along your back, resting in the curvature of your spine. With his free hand, he slowly opened the door of the room, revealing your son and Sam on the other side.

Upon hearing the door open, your son’s head darted from the table he was sitting at towards where you were standing in the doorway. As soon as his eyes landed on you, you watched as he pushed himself away from the table, the metal chair he was sitting on scraping against the floor, practically toppling over as he hopped out of it and ran into your arms.

“Oof!” You grunted as his arms wrapped around you, his face digging into your stomach. “Miss me?”

He nodded against your stomach.

“You have a great kid.” Sam said, sitting in his spot at the table your son had just been at, coffee in hand. “Your daughter too, but this one gives me a kick.”

“Yeah?” You asked chuckling and as soon as you did your son pulled away from your embrace.

“I was so scared ‘cause I thought that those guys killed you, but then Dad came back with Captain America and Black Widow and then we came here and-” Your son began rambling, throwing his arms in the air wildly. “And then yesterday Captain America let me fly-”

“You took my son flying?” Bucky asked Sam beside you.

“Depends on what you consider flying.” Sam shrugged taking another sip of coffee.

“-and then I got to play with the shield and it’s so cool, Mom!” Grant finished saying, catching his breath.

“Wow buddy that sounds... dangerous.” You said eyeing Sam while ruffling your son’s hair. “But I’m glad you had fun!”

Just then you heard the door on the far side of the room open, Natasha emerging with your daughter in her arms. The first to move was Bucky making his way over to Natasha, taking his girl into his arms and bringing her over to you.

“Hi sleepy girl.” You cooed, reaching out for your daughter who had clearly just woken up from a nap.

When your hands met her skin, however, she quickly pulled way from your touch, curling more into her father’s chest.

“Your hands are too cold, Mommy.”

Practically feeling your heart shatter in your chest, you looked up to meet Bucky’s eyes just as downcast as yours. Pulling yourself away from your daughter, you clasped your hands together, biting back the pain that you felt from her rejection.

Noticing how you began backing away, Bucky frantically took his daughter’s hand in his vibranium one, staring down at her.

“C’mon your mom’s hands aren’t that cold, right?” He asked. “What about mine. You always say my metal one is cold, right bug?”

Resting her head against his chest, she shook her head.

“Buck, it’s fine. She's right.” You eased, backing away from everyone towards the door. “Does anybody else feel hot in here? It’s really hot. I think I’m just gonna take a breather outside-”

“Y/n-” Bucky called.

“It’s okay, I’m just gonna slip outside real quick.”You said, pulling on the handle of the door and swinging it open. “I’ll be right back.”

Before anybody could protest further, you stepped into the hallway, shutting the door behind you. As you walked down the hallway, you were realizing for the first time that you didn’t recognize this place and you didn’t know where you were going. The more you thought about it, you barely recognized anything anymore and you didn’t know where you were going to go from where you were right now.

How did you end up here? How did you go from having some guy across the bar from you catch your eye to pacing down the hallways of the Avengers Compound, ice flowing through your veins? Frustrated, tired and confused, you felt a sob you didn’t even realize was there catch in your throat. Throwing your hand to your mouth, you leaned against the hallway wall, feeling tears begin to fog your vision.

“Y/n?” Bucky called, following you down the hallway. “You know Becca’s weird like that sometimes. She just woke up and was tired and cranky-”

“James, it’s fine.” You said.

After a brief pause, you heard his voice again, the tone more shaky than the last.

“Y/n...”

“Buck I said-”

“Y/n watch out!” He shouted.

Shooting away from the wall, your head darted to the big windows at the end of the hall, an unfamiliar object coming straight towards them from the outside.

Before you could even have time to discern what was happening, you watched as the glass of the large windows shattered across the hallway and heard them hit the floor, small bits nicking your skin along the way. You listened as loud beeps emitted from the device, growing quicker by the second. 

Snapping your attention back to Bucky, both of your eyes wide, the last thing you recalled was the feeling of his hands securing the back of your head and your lower back as you fell to the ground.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes angst #bucky barnes series

[voiceless-terror]

jontim comfort food prompt? 💕

Tim’s having dinner at Jon’s flat. He’s only been over a few times; Jon’s not keen on letting others into his space, and tends to spiral in preparation for guests. Example: right now.

The living room Tim’s currently occupying is spotless, books tucked neatly onto shelves, not a speck of dust to be found. He’s even lit what smells like an aromatherapy candle, really pulling out all the stops. Jon’s a man who leaves a little pile of things wherever he goes, and he appreciates how much effort Jon’s going through to help him ‘relax.’

It’s that certain time of year when Tim gets particularly moody and withdrawn. To anyone else, it seems random, out of the blue. They don’t have context. Tim doesn’t give it.

Jon never asks. 

He’s never been one to pry. He can barely get through small talk without awkwardly stumbling over some nicety. Tim finds it endearing, though he knows most don’t. But Jon shows his affection in different ways. For instance, manically cleaning his entire home and inviting Tim over for dinner after he’s had a particularly bad week. 

“It’s just macaroni,” Jon insisted, as if he didn’t know it was Tim’s favorite dish. “Nothing fancy.”

“I’m sure I’ll love whatever you make,” Tim replied with a grin. “Hell, I’ll even eat the boxed kind if, that’s on the menu.”

Jon sniffed, clearly offended at the notion. “It is not.”

He hasn’t heard a peep out of Jon in some time, only the clattering of plates and the occasional grumble. He heaves himself off the surprisingly comfy couch and ventures into the kitchen to find Jon very carefully pouring wine, studying the glasses as if to make sure they’re exactly equal.

He’s also wearing an apron.

“I could get used to this,” he remarks, trying to stifle his laughter when Jon jumps about a foot in the air.

“Tim! I could’ve dropped this!” Jon scowls, gently placing the bottle back on the counter. He pauses, tugging off his apron with a reddening face; Tim doesn’t think he was meant to see that. “The macaroni should be done by now, I’ll get it out in a minute-”

“It’s okay, I can get it,” he offers, scooching behind Jon and grabbing a towel from the counter. He reaches in, carefully tugging out the glass container. “Here we go!”

There’s a dark brown crust over the pasta and a bit of an odd smell, Tim wonders what recipe Jon used. “Hey, did you put breadcrumbs on this?”

“No. Why?” Ah.

Jon leans over and Tim watches as his face crumbles. “Oh no,” his voice slips into a whine he’s usually very careful to hide. “It’s all burnt!”

“It’s very evenly burnt, though,” Tim offers, trying to console him. He gives it an experimental poke with a fork: it doesn’t give, hard as a rock. How long did he have it in there? “Kudos on that.”

Jon’s not having any of it. “This was supposed to be relaxing for you, and I’ve gone and mucked it all up-”

“Hey no, don’t worry!” He guides Jon over to the table, nudging him into a chair where he immediately puts his head in his hands, refusing to look at Tim. “This was a very relaxing evening. You did all of the work! And if we have to order takeaway, that's no issue. You can just make this for me another time, yeah?”

Jon peers at him from behind his fingers. “Really? You’d like to come back?”

“Are you kidding? You’ll never be rid of me, now that I know you cook. Next time I’ll help, you can wear that little apron again-”

“Tim!”

“And while we think of a nice takeaway, we can help ourselves to this lovely wine you’ve provided.” He picks up the glasses, setting one down in front of Jon with a smile and flourish. “Sound good?”

Jon looks up,  giving him one of those rare, shy grins that makes his heart stutter in his chest. “Sounds good.”

It’s been two years to the day that Danny disappeared. And for the first time, he doesn’t spend it alone.

#tma #the magnus archives #my writing #jonathan sims #tim stoker #jontim #i love these BOYS #Anonymous

[chubbyhl]

Vault Fic #2 - The First Stuffing

Hi all -- my girlfriend suggested I post another installment of the��“vault fic” aka the feedee Louis fic I started writing a year ago and never finished or showed anyone, but people seem to dig it now. I got some suggestions from awhile back to post more content from it, and people seemed to really like the idea of Louis’s first stuffing, so here you are! A nice long one. Happy Chubby Friday, and enjoy! Please note - this is a feederism centric fic. It won’t be for everyone. Also contains some unrealistic eating for entertainment purposes, don’t try this at home lol. 

-

“I forgot if you put this on your list, but this one my favorite recipes to make,” Harry said. He pulled on two oven mitts and then kneeled down, grabbing the hot dish and pulling it out. He set it on the stove and then closed up the oven, waving to the dish, “It’s five cheese baked mac and cheese. I put a bit of everything in it. White cheddar, sharp cheddar, parmesan, asiago, Swiss…and then some bacon bits, because why not.”

“Oh, that sounds so good,” Louis said, “Probably good I’ll have leftovers of that, too.”

Harry just looked at him, and then smiled, shaking his head.

“Oh, no no,” he said, “This is all for tonight.”

Louis blinked at him.

“Harry, you can’t be serious,” Louis said, “That thing could feed a family of eight.”

“That’s exactly the serving size, yes,” Harry said. He took off his gloves and waved at the dish, “Give it a minute to cool off and then we can start.”

“Harry,” Louis said, “You – you can’t expect me to eat all of that.”

“Well,” Harry shrugged, “I mean, I’ll take you having half at this point. But at some point, I’m going to make this and you’ll definitely have all of it.”

Harry kept moving around the kitchen, getting out dishes and some glasses, and Louis kept staring at the dish of macaroni. What had sounded so delicious a few minutes now loomed in front of him like his personal white whale, something Harry was expecting him to finish. Or at least, finish half of it, when Louis wasn’t even sure he could finish half a regular serving size.

Harry turned around and caught him staring, and smiled softly and came over. He tucked Louis’s cheek into his hand and kisses his forehead.

“How are we feeling?”

“Like you’re fucking with me,” Louis said, “You said today would be easy.”

“Yes, and most of today has been,” Harry said. He held up a hand, ticking down his fingers as he started a list, “Breakfast, just a bowl of cereal. A large bowl, but that’s it. Then some apple and Nutella, then a couple chicken sandwiches, and then a bagel with peanut butter. And lots of Coke.”

“Thank you for reminding me,” Louis grumbled.

“Hey, hey, that’s all easy stuff,” Harry teased, “You didn’t expect me to not spoil you at least a little today, did you?”

Louis wrapped his hands around himself, looking down. He swallowed weakly, and Harry tucked a hand under his chin and lifted him to look at him.

“Hey, it’s alright, love,” Harry said, “Seriously, just eat what you think you can. But I would be very, very happy if you had half this dish. Like, you have no idea how thrilled I would be.”

Louis glanced at the dish of the pasta again, and then back at Harry. The other man was looking at him firmly, but his eyes were wide and kind, and Louis tried to remember why he was here in the first place. The Kink, yes, but also, he liked Harry. Harry was funny and sweet and cared about him. He wasn’t going to push Louis too far past his boundaries. He would be fine.

So eventually Louis nodded and murmured out “okay,” and Harry grinned and kissed him again before going to grab everything and set it on the kitchen.

Louis sat at the table, right next to Harry’s own seat. Harry poured him a tall glass of water, and then pulled the casserole dish a bit closer to the two of them. He had laid a big spoon next to the dish, and picked it up, glancing at Louis.

“Want me to feed you?” Harry asked, “Not going to lie, I’ve been dying to do that all day.”

“Yeah,” Louis said quickly, “Sure.”

Harry smiled, and then dipped into the dish. The spoon cracked past the crispy layer of baked cheese and breadcrumbs at the top, and Louis licked his lips, which made Harry smile.

“Hungry?”

“I could eat,” Louis said. He was only a bit hungry, maybe enough for a snack, at most, because he’d been eating for a lot of the day. But he could still eat, so he was going to.

Harry grinned, and then picked up the spoon, loaded down with pasta and cheese.

“Okay, open up,” Harry said, and then softened when Louis did so, “Good boy.”

Louis flushed in spite of himself, and let Harry tuck the spoon into his mouth. He chewed, closing his eyes as he tasted it. It was creamy and so, so rich, and he hummed happily as he ate it.

“Wow, oh, man,” he said once he had swallowed, “That’s so good, holy shit.”

“Thanks,” Harry grinned, “I’ve made this more times than I can count and I haven’t gotten any complaints yet.”

“You making your mac n cheese for other boys?” Louis asked as Harry got another spoonful ready.

“That’s funny,” Harry said flatly, “Open up.”

Louis did, letting Harry give him another delicious spoonful. This would be no problem, he thought. The food was so good, surely he was hungrier than he originally thought.

Harry kept tucking pasta into his mouth, smiling at each bite Louis took.

“Doing good, love,” Harry said, “Still taste good?”

Louis nodded and smiled, letting Harry feed him. He took sips of water in between, enough to help him swallow but not enough to get him too full. Harry looked far too pleased with himself as he fed the other man, his movements as steady as his encouragement.

And then, he hit his first wall.

With a quick glance at the dish, he could tell he had only had about a regular serving and a half of the dish, and he was already full. Like, very full. Like he was having trouble chewing the mouthful Harry had just given him.

The other man watched, carefully, and frowned when Louis swallowed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and Louis shrugged.

“I – I’m full, s’all,” Louis said.

“Ah,” Harry nodded, “I see.”

He set down the spoon and nodded towards Louis.

“Lift up your shirt, pet.”

“Um,” Louis said, “What?”

“Lift up your shirt,” Harry repeated, his voice growing a bit firmer. Louis swallowed weakly, and then did what Harry asked and lifted up the hem of his t-shirt.

When he glanced down his stomach was a bit rounded, mostly bloated-looking more than anything. Harry reached out and tugged down the hem of Louis’s sweatpants, under the curve of his stomach. Then he put his hands on the warm skin of Louis’s belly and started rubbing, pressing in firmly. Louis groaned, hiccupping weakly as Harry put pressure on his full belly. Harry just watched him, and kept rubbing, then hooked his thumb into Louis’s belly button and held the curve of his stomach with the rest of his finger and gave his belly a firm jiggle. Louis gasped weakly and then covered his mouth with his hands, trying to stifle a burp working its way through his throat. Harry rubbed his stomach harder and then gave it a gentle pat.

“Any better?” he asked, and Louis blinked at him.

“Uh,” he said, “Maybe.”

“Okay, good,” Harry said, “You let me know if you feel a bit full again.”

Louis just stared at him, but Harry was already gearing up another spoonful. Louis ate it, and he felt like he could swallow with far less difficulty. And he felt fine through another spoonful, and then another.

He hit another wall when they were a fourth of the way through the dish, and once again, Harry went back to rubbing and jiggling his tight belly, which was now rounder and tighter. To Harry’s credit, he was handling it all like a true professional, even though Louis could see his eyes getting darker and wider. He kept digging into the dish, and Louis kept eating it, like another force had taken hold of him. His stomach was screaming at him, bloated and stretched far beyond capacity, but the pasta was so good, and Harry was calling him a good boy as he shoveled food into Louis’s mouth, so he kept going.

He finally, finally hit his final wall when he was nearly into the fifth serving of the dish, and he clamped his mouth shut and shook his head.

“Harry, I can’t,” he panted. He was hot now, and sweating, and his stomach was in pain, and he just couldn’t keep it up.

“Okay, lovey,” Harry said, “Just one more bite? Please? Would make me so happy.”

“I – “ Louis choked out, “I dunno.”

“Come on,” Harry teased, wiggling the full spoon in front of him, “For me?”

“God, fuck you,” Louis breathed out, but even then, he opened his mouth. He accepted the food, and then chewed and swallowed with more effort than he had ever put into anything before, and then when he was done, he leaned back in his chair and cradled his belly delicately. It felt rock hard, and it was stretched, pressing out in a generous curve that stretched out the outline of his abs. Louis stifled another burp and held his hands in front of his mouth, his face turning red.

“Jesus,” he breathed out, “Oh my God.”

Harry leaned forward in his chair, his eyes dark but his smile sweet, and he reached out and put his hands on Louis’s distended stomach.

“Oh, what a good boy,” he cooed, “What a perfect, perfect boy you are.”

He rubbed Louis’s stomach carefully, pushing hard to make Louis hiccup and then just skimming his hands over the curve, touching and enjoying.

“Oh, Louis, we’re going to have so much fun,” he sighed happily. Louis just hiccupped again.

“I need to lay down,” he got out weakly.

“Of course you do,” Harry said quickly, “C’mon, I’ll get you up, and then I’ll give you another nice rub down. Does that sound good?”

Louis just gave Harry a nod, and then the other man was on his feet, helping pull Louis up. Instinctively, Louis’s hands went to his full, bloated stomach, and he whined, but Harry just held him, kissed the back of his head.

“Let’s get you to the couch. Good boy. Come on,” he said, “You ate what I made you so well, you deserve some rest.”

Louis’s eyelids were already drooping, the food in his belly making him sleepy, so he just nodded and let Harry guide him.

#drabbles #vault fic

[dollfaceeeeee]

How I imagine it would be like to have Bucky Barnes as a partner..🥺❤️

I think about this more often than I want to admit lol. This is also how he is like in my DR.

He’s not good with talking about his feelings, but he’s the best listener when you want to talk about yours. You have his full attention, every time, and you know he genuinely cares because he asks questions, and follows along.

If you have nightmares, or PTSD like I do, when it gets bad he makes your favorite tea with honey and sugar, and will sit up with you no matter how tired he is or how late it is to make sure you’re okay. He won’t go back to sleep before you do, and will sit and watch you sleep for just a little while, just to make sure you feel safe again.

He is the best cuddle partner. He will snuggle you all day, every day, if he could, and will absent mindedly kiss all over your face, in the creases of your neck, on the tips of your fingers, anywhere. He also gets really anxious if he wakes up without you next to him, because he likes to have you pressed up beside him, just in case.

He only sleeps closest to the door to make sure you’re protected, but maybe just a bit because you love to look out the window and see the sunrise and sunset throughout the day. There is almost always a pistol on the table next to the bed, and if there isn’t, there’s a knife under his pillow. He will never let anyone or anything hurt you.

You’re the most important thing to him, and he makes you feel that way all the time. He’s a physical lover, not a verbal one, so he shows his love with touch; kisses, hand holding, arm around the shoulders, tickling of the waist, braiding/playing with your hair, giving massages, reading to you, running you a bath, anything you ask, he will do. He’s kind of a simp, but it’s adorable, let me tell you.

He can’t cook for shit, but he really tries. When you’ve had a bad day with the Avengers, or on the job, he always tries to cook your favorite meals, whether it’s pasta, steak, chicken, or even if you’re a vegetarian. But there’s only one meal he has ever cooked that hasn’t burnt, or made you guys end up ordering take out, and that is macaroni and cheese. Still, the gesture itself makes your heart melt.

He loves to teach you how to fight, but he doesn’t like to have you in the middle of any action that the Avengers see. He will fight you about it, and hard, because you’re the love of his life, and if something happens to you out there he will believe it’s his fault. So anytime you’re forced on a mission, believe me if he doesn’t get to go with you, he will riot, and you will hear about it. Or, honestly, Steve will be the only other person he will trust with you.

You think he’s a dog person? Wrong. He’s a huge cat person. Dogs kind of freak him out, give off too much energy for him, and he really just enjoys the laid back nature of cats a lot more. If you don’t own cats, get one with him. Trust me, he will LOVE it so much.

He’s a hopeless romantic, so he likes to take you out on fancy dates any chance he can. Get all dressed up with him, have fun with it, maybe even go dancing for a bit with him. Don’t forget to share a dessert with him too. He loves pumpkin pie the most.

Don’t get me wrong, he loves having movie nights with you, but he just likes reading to you just a little bit more. He’s sort of a book worm, and will love it even more if you read with him and talk about the chapters with him, so if you haven’t read Lord of the Rings yet, make sure to get on that. Did I also mention he loves Pride and Prejudice?

He is the most over protective person you will ever be with. Some people may say that he’s being possessive, but he genuinely just cares a lot about you, had lost so many people, and wants to keep you safe. He prefers going out with you, just to keep an eye on you, but if you want girl time, make sure to bring Nat and Wanda. It’ll make him feel so much better, and more at ease, because at least he will know you will be safe. I mean, have you SEEN those two? Jesus.

He pet names for you, but he doesn’t wear them out. Baby, Doll, Sweetheart, and Princess are big ones, but they’re only heard once in a while, because he prefers saying your name. It’s the name of his favorite person ever, after all. And when he says I love you, trust me, it’s hard for him to say, so he means it, and loves you more than you know.

He’s old fashioned, in the broadest sense, so expect tons of days with him coming home with flowers and gifts for you, and sometimes even pastries from your favorite bakery around the corner. He knows you love those huge cinnamon rolls, and trust me, he pays attention when you say you do.

He doesn’t understand texting whatsoever, so he will mostly just call you if he needs something from you, or has to ask you any questions. It’s one of your favorite things about him.

Yes, he will absolutely dance with you in the kitchen to Elvis Presley at 3 AM in the dark by candlelight. No matter where, honestly.

If someone ever speaks down about you, or makes you upset in any way, he doesn’t let that stuff go. He’s a fighter, and a military boy, so when people upset you, it just infuriates the shit out of him. If they do it in front of you, it’ll be the worst day of their lives.

He is the most fiercely loyal human being you will ever be with. You will never worry about anything will him. No jealousy, no cheating, no secrets. He’s an open book, and won’t entertain anyone else. They aren’t worth the time. You might argue with him once in a while, but it’ll mostly feel like heaven. Trust me.

He can be a real sarcastic prick at times, and make some pretty snappy comments, but if he ever hurts your feelings unintentionally he will tear himself apart forever over it. He never wants to hurt you. Never.

#bucky barnes #marvel #boyfriend #james buchanan barnes #sergeant bucky barnes

[3pirouette]

Fic: Nobody's Baby: Menace (1/1)

Title: Menace

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Menace at AO3

Nobody's Baby Series at AO3

Story Summary: Steve wasn’t sure he was going to make it.

Six weeks.

There were six weeks left, give or take, and then…

Well, he supposed that things would change, but the truth was, he wasn’t sure and neither was Howard.

A/N: Set in April of 1954, right before the Epilogue of Nobody’s Baby. For Steggy Week Day 6: Our Favorite Family. I’m also using this to cross “Domestic Fluff” off my Steggy Bingo Board because I don’t think it gets much more domestic OR fluffy.

I… have no idea what kids learned in school in 1954. Just… made my best guess.

~*~

Steve wasn’t sure he was going to make it.

Six weeks.

There were six weeks left, give or take, and then…

Well, he supposed that things would change, but the truth was, he wasn’t sure and neither was Howard.

Mandy was enough of a tornado; at eight she had the energy of three grown men and the ability to sit still for about five minutes if something didn’t capture her attention. But adding Peggy into the mix…

He scratched his head, looking at the dent in the refrigerator. He was strong enough to reshape the metal, but he wasn’t exactly sure how to get to it without disassembling the whole thing. He bit his thumb and turned back to his wife who was watching him from the door, hands on her stomach.

“How, exactly,” he started, curious but still gentle, “did you manage this one?”

Peggy looked contrite, her lip between her teeth and eyes sad as she stroked her pregnant belly. “I leaned on it too fast.”

Her earnestness hit him in the gut and he could do nothing but laugh.

She gently pressed off the wall, frustrated. “It’s not funny, Steve!”

“Awww,” he tried to suppress his laughter, but it still trickled out as a chuckle as he pulled her tight into his embrace. “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just…” When she sniffled he knew he’d gone too far. Steve leaned back, taking her chin gently in his hand. “I’m just getting really good at home repairs, is all.”

Peggy shook her head fiercely, eyes welling. She was still subject to horrible mood swings, even this late into the pregnancy. “I’m a menace.”

“You’re my menace,” Steve replied quickly, kissing her forehead and cradling her tight in his arms. “Besides, the refrigerator needed a little… style.”

He wasn’t sure if the sound Peggy made was a laugh or a sob, but her held her just a little tighter, anyway. They hadn’t been sure, after so long of trying and nothing happening, that they’d be able to have children of their own. Being pregnant was a big enough surprise after years of thinking it wouldn’t happen, but the enhancements she was displaying since, well, those were a little harder to deal with.

Howard had tried to figure out exactly what was happening, but could only give them his best guesses since he and Erskine hadn’t ever gotten this far in their planning or research. He assumed it was something about Peggy and the baby sharing blood supply and genetic material, but as to how long it would last once the baby was born or if it was a permanent change to Peggy’s system, he didn’t know. Anytime they asked him a question he didn’t know the answer to, Howard would wave his hands in the air and say it was the “miracle of pregnancy.”

Neither Steve nor Peggy were very partial to that answer.

The hearing and sense of smell were both helpful and annoying to her, the quick healing was quite useful, but the strength had knocked her for a loop and almost seven months later she was still having little… mishaps.

“I know I say this all the time,” Peggy mumbled into his neck, “but how did you manage?”

“It was a war,” Steve whispered, not caring how many times he’d have to talk about it. “People didn’t care if there was some collateral damage until I figured it all out.” He swayed them side to side gently, rubbing his hand over her back. “Though, they were a little sore on the USO tour if I managed to break something.”

Peggy shook her head against him. “The kitchen table, two chairs, three… three doors off the hinges, the shower head, two holes in walls, the typewriter, the bathroom sink, and the refrigerator. Any other casualties I’m missing?”

Steve winced, but said it anyway. “The dollhouse.”

She deflated in his arms. “Yes, and the dollhouse.” She turned sideways, letting her belly rest against his so she could lean into him. “What if this never goes away?”

Steve let his hand flatten over the curve of her stomach, stroking gently through the fabric of her dress. “Then we will have the most well protected kids in the world.”

“Right,” she muttered, “As I stumble around and put holes in the walls.”

Steve continued gentle strokes up and down over the curve of her stomach. “No, by then you’ll have regained your balance and with the little guy—”

“Or girl,” Peggy mumbled.

“Or girl,” Steve amended quickly, “on the outside we can get you training- get you used to it.” He rubbed his cheek against her hair. “No matter what happens, in a few weeks we’re going to have a new focus, but I’m not going to let you struggle, ok?” He gave her a gentle squeeze. “I’m right here with you.”

Peggy hummed, unconvinced as she did a little two step to turn them to face the refrigerator. “Perhaps.” She sighed, her tears abated for the moment and her mind set on more practical things, “But what are we going to do about right now?”

“Well—”

Steve’s long, drawn out syllable was interrupted by the slamming of the back door and Mandy tearing into the kitchen, her bag falling off her shoulder and braids in shambles. “Hi Mom, Dad!” She hugged them tight, her bag falling to the floor.

Steve’s arm wrapped around the girl as Peggy held tight to him, Mandy’s energy nearly knocking her over. She let her hand settle on the back of the girl’s head after she finally regained her footing with more than a little help from Steve’s sure grip. “Well, aren’t you full of energy today!” Peggy laughed out, her fingers running over the hairs sticking out of the braids.

“School was so boring today,” Mandy mumbled, looking up at them. She turned her head and pressed a kiss to Peggy’s stomach, whispering something unintelligible to the baby before pulling away from her parents.

Steve could see Peggy tearing up again as she rubbed the spot Mandy had kissed. He gave her a little squeeze and turned back to Mandy, who was gleefully chattering on, unaware she’d done something precious. “Math was a review and I got all the answers right from last night’s homework, so I just had to listen. Then we had time to read our chapter books, and we had to write a summary, which is boring because I already read it, so why do I have to talk about what I just read?”

Steve smiled as Mandy sat herself on the floor, digging through her bag. “So that you can show you understand it. That’s an important skill.”

Mandy looked up at him and after a moment of contemplation, shrugged. “Ok,” she muttered, turned back to her bag. “We had art today, too, and that was pretty fun. We used different kinds of macaroni to make a map yesterday, and then after lunch today we painted it.” Mandy was almost halfway in her backpack now, looking for the errant art project. She pulled it out with a flourish and smiled. “Miss Williams said mine was the most colorful, and Jeremy got in trouble.”

“Jeremy got in trouble?” Peggy asked, smiling as Mandy stood and tried to show them both the sheet of paper filled with an explosion of various shaped pastas in bright colors.

“He said they should have kept the pasta for lunch because lunch was bad, so he got sent to the principal’s office for talking back.” Mandy shrugged and handed the picture to Steve. “He’s not wrong. The turkey sandwiches were dry.” She scrunched up her face and shook her head like she was trying erase the memory of the food.

“Be that as it may, this is quite lovely dear!” Peggy smiled and looked at the paper. “What is it the map of?”

“Well, we were supposed to make a map about a place we know, but I thought that would be boring.” Mandy sat back down on the floor and started to put all the papers and pencils from her bag back in. “So, I made a treasure map instead.” She stood back up and hefted the bag over her shoulder. “I only have a little homework tonight so I’ll be done pretty fast. Just some science homework. What’s for dinner?”

Peggy stepped away from Steve, setting a hand on Mandy’s shoulder. “Well, that’s good that you don’t have much, because Aunt Ana has invited us over for dinner tonight.” She smiled and moved to head her towards her room. “We need to get you a little more presentable, and you can work on your science while we’re talking about boring adult things after dinner.”

Mandy squealed in delight, bouncing. “Do you think Aunt Ana’s cooking or is it Uncle Jarvis? Maybe she’ll have the little rolls I like. Oh! Will Bernard be there?”

Steve shook his head, chucking under his breath as he moved towards the refrigerator, a glint in his eyes.

Peggy laughed and flicked a half-unraveled braid over Mandy’s shoulder. “Absolutely not. Bernard lives in California, darling.” She turned her daughter towards the door. “I’ll let you pick your dress but you must sit still for me to fix your hair, understood?”

Mandy could barely hide her excitement for the night out. “Yes, Mom.”

“Hey, what do you think? Temporary fix?” Steve caught both of their attention, pointing to the refrigerator where he’d hung Mandy’s art up with a magnet over the dent with a proud smile on his face.

Peggy rolled her eyes good-naturedly at him, rubbing a hand over her belly “I suppose it shall do for now.” She sighed happily, felling just a little overly domestic at the sight of Steve standing by their daughter’s artwork, proud of both her and himself. “Alright, you two, we need to get a move on. Edwin’s expecting us.”

“Yes,” Steve agreed, starting to move then stopping, turning his head to the side as he contemplated the macaroni art. “Mandy?”

She and Peggy stopped half out of the kitchen. “Yeah, Dad?”

“Is this…” he paused, a concern growing in his head, “is this our yard?”

She nodded proudly. “Uh huh.”

“Oh!” Peggy smiled, smoothing down her daughter’s hair, oblivious to Steve’s discovery. “I can see the shed and the little garden patch in the back. Very good job.”

“And…” he paused again, this time his hesitancy caught Peggy’s attention and her smile dropped just a bit. “And where’s the treasure?” Steve asked, cautiously. “I don’t see an ‘x’ to mark the spot.”

Mandy chuckled, her face alive with what they’d come to know as her mischievous smile. “You’re going to have to find it.” She turned, moving out of the kitchen and bounding up the stairs. “Especially if you want it back!”

Steve and Peggy stared at one another for a long moment, the sound of Mandy bouncing around in her room a far second to the panic they both felt.

“What did she bury?” Peggy asked, her voice quiet and as deathly serious as if she were in the field.

“What are we missing?” Steve asked, just as serious, eyes flying all over the room. He and Peggy passed one another as Steve kept looking for little holes where trinkets or heirlooms might have caught Mandy’s eye while Peggy scoured the colorful macaroni for anything that might be a clue. Steve stopped and turned slowly, another thought dawning on him. “Honey?”

“Hum?” She asked, eyes still scouring the page.

He tried to keep his voice as calm as he could, but he knew that if he was right, this was unlikely to go well. “Where’s your ring?”

“I couldn’t find it this morning; I must have missed my jewelry dish last night and I couldn’t quite get on the floor to check under…” She stopped, her mind finally clicking over. She stood slowly, looking at him. “No.”

He grimaced. “I mean…”

Peggy’s jaw tightened and her eyes grew serious. “You need to take this one back,” she gestured at her belly. “I can’t handle two.”

Steve smirked and took her hand, gently pulling her towards the stairs. “A little late for that, I think.”

Peggy reluctantly let him pull her along. “No. Absolutely not. I can’t handle another little carbon copy of us scooting about, being sneaky and subverting our every effort to parent them.”

He stopped them at the bottom of the stairs, smiling softly. “It’ll be fine.” He kissed her softly then started up the stairs. “Let’s just take it one refrigerator and wedding ring at a time, huh?”

Peggy grumbled and started up behind him, significantly slower. “That little devil is lucky I love her, Shield has some beautiful new detention cells I’ve been dying to try out.”

Steve paused at the top. “She’s scrappy, like her mom.” He kissed Peggy’s forehead and helped her up the last few stairs.

“And as stubborn and sneaky as her father when she gets an idea in her head.” Peggy took a slow breath and stood near the doorway. “It’s your turn.”

Steve rubbed his face, suddenly not liking where this was going. “Then why’d you come up?”

“Because while you’re digging out in the yard for my ring, I’m going to have to get that whirlwind of a child ready and as you just saw, I do need a hand nowadays if I’m to get up here in one go.” Peggy shook her head and gave him a push towards the door. She smiled, a glint and a challenge in her eye. “You’re up, Daddy.”

He took a deep breath, and with a voice and facial expression Peggy knew well from the days of the red, white, and blue suit, entered enemy territory. “Amanda Grace? Where did you bury your mother’s ring?”

Her voice was so proud when she replied, Peggy nearly doubled over with laughter. “I told you, you’re going to have to find it. That’s what the map is for!”

Peggy wasn’t sure she was going to make it.

Six weeks.

There were six weeks left, give or take, and then…

Well, she supposed that things would change, but the truth was, super strength and buried rings and all, she wouldn’t give it up for the world.

#steggyweek21 #steggy bingo bash #3P's Fic #Nobody's Baby

[lumora-the-white]

Anyone Else

TFATWS - Bucky Barns x OC

Chapter One - word count 4835

**Trigger warning** brief sexual assault over the phone - has asterisks

SHIELD Agent Helen Turner swore under her breath as she bent to pick up the keys she dropped at her locked apartment door. Before she could pick them up, the soft jingle of her key ring made her straighten back up. She blinked at the man standing beside her, not sure how he could’ve gotten so close to her without her noticing. He held her keys out to her, and she cautiously took them from his hand. She’d been seeing him in the building on and off for the last six months.

“Thanks.” She murmured, taking note of his leather gloves. Odd to wear in such nice weather. Although, the wind could be bitter in Brooklyn, even when the sun was shining.

The mysterious dark haired man nodded, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and realization hit Helen like a ton of bricks. He’d shoved his hands in his pockets, but she caught the glint of metal at his left wrist between his jacket sleeve and his pocket. This must be the infamous James “Bucky” Barnes, aka The Winter Soldier. She knew he had come to New York after the battle for Earth. She just hadn’t realized he’d come to Brooklyn.

“A-are you hungry?” Helen offered, inserting the key into the lock and giving it a twist. “I-I’m about to make dinner and I always make too much so…” She turned to look at the man still somehow miraculously beside her. He was eyeing her carefully, lips set in a grim line. He didn’t say anything, he just squinted a little.

Bucky wasn’t sure what to do with his neighbors’ proposition. On one hand she was incredibly beautiful; blonde and curvy, with a knockout set of beaming bedroom eyes. On the other, she set off all kinds of alarm bells in his military trained head. He was sure he’d seen her before, but was having trouble placing her outside of the apartment building at the moment. Just that morning he’d held the building door for her when a shower suddenly popped up, noting how her sports bra pleasantly clung to her chest.

Helen eased open her apartment door and stepped inside, leaving the door open for him. She set her grocery bags down on the kitchen counter and slipped off her sneakers. “Can I get you something to drink?” Helen asked, peering into her fridge and plucking out a couple of beers. She shut the door with her hip and turned to find Bucky still standing in the doorframe. She raised a bottle to him and he stepped forward, letting the door fall shut.

Helen smirked and twisted off the caps. After tossing them into the bin, she padded across the linoleum and handed him a bottle. “Cheers,” She murmured, clinking the neck of her bottle with his.

Bucky nodded, his smirk deepening a little. “Cheers.” He echoed, taking a swig.

“Helen.” She spoke softly, offering her hand.

Bucky’s lips twitched. The name suited her well. “Bucky,” He answered, taking her hand. He immediately noticed the strength of her grip. He resisted the urge to pull her closer to him and released her hand.

Helen reached around him and threw the deadbolt. “This is Brooklyn, after all.” She teased, flashing him a smile. She hung up her keys on a hook by the door and then spun around and returned to the kitchen.

Bucky took a few more steps into the apartment, taking note of how neat and clean the space was. The living room was decorated well, modern leather furniture with a flat screen TV. The kitchen was clean, and it looked like the cabinets had been recently painted. He picked up a framed photograph sitting on a small side table. The picture looked old, but with today’s Instagram filters looks could definitely be deceiving. The picture was of Helen and a rather dashingly handsome soldier. From the flashes on the man’s uniform, he appeared to be a WWII veteran. He realized Helen was also in uniform, a nurse’s uniform. He supposed the picture could be of her grandparents, or maybe a costume party for Halloween. He knew people went to and enjoyed those types of things.

Bucky set the picture down, trying to contain his panic. How could she be in a photograph like that? “What’s on the menu?” He asked, casually leaning on the edge of the kitchen counter to take a swig of beer, watching her empty her grocery bags into the fridge.

“I was thinking some comfort food would be nice.” Helen explained, setting a pan in the sink to fill with water. “How about some goulash? I use an old family recipe and give it a little twist.” She rummaged in a cabinet for some elbow macaroni.

Bucky set down his beer and caught a stray jar of dried parsley as it fell off the shelf over Helen’s shoulder. “Easy there, doll.”

Helen swallowed hard at his sudden nearness, reaching gingerly between them to take the jar. “Thank you.” She murmured, feeling her cheeks flush.

Bucky flashed her a good natured grin and took a step back, leaning against the counter again to continue drinking his beer. He was encouraged to see the chemistry crackling between them wasn’t lost on her. She seemed interested in exploring their options, probably why she’d invited him inside her apartment in the first place.

Helen closed the cabinet and returned to gathering the ingredients for the dish.

“Anything I can do?” Bucky offered, setting his half drunk beer down on the counter, shoving his hands in his pockets again.

Helen looked up from the pan of water she set on the stovetop to boil. “Are you serious?” She scoffed, giving the pot a generous dash of salt. “You goin’ ta cut vegetables in leather, eh?” Kinky, she thought, knowing why he wore them, but not sure how to tell him she knew without giving away her identity just yet.

Bucky glanced down at his leather gloves. He wore them so often that he really didn’t think about it much anymore. “That a problem?” He countered, taking the knife she handed him. Her thick Brooklyn accent was doing silly things to his insides.

Helen just raised an eyebrow. “You could take your coat off too,” She motioned to the hooks across the room next to the front door “Stay awhile.”

Bucky thought for a moment, setting the knife down the countertop. There was definitely something different about this woman. He just wasn’t sure about revealing himself in that way. As much as he didn’t care that people knew he had a metal arm, he usually didn’t lead with that when he was looking for a woman’s intimate company. Is that what he was really looking for here? He’d heard a rumor of a woman super soldier also made by Hydra during his brief sabbatical in Wakanda. Shuri had spoken like the woman was a unicorn, hard to spot and even harder to capture the attention of. The outlandish rumor was that her brainwashing had been cut short by an attack by Steve as Captain America. She’d gone into hiding and SHIELD had tried to recover her mind to no avail.

The woman before him, softly humming to herself in the dimly lit kitchen did not seem like a super soldier with a mind that had been ripped to shreds by Hydra. Maybe SHIELD had success in putting her mind back together after all. The picture on her side table popped up in his mind as she looked over at him, her green eyes dancing with amusement. He’d bet his next meal that this was the same woman in that photo. In all his years, eyes never lied. She looked back at the pan she was browning some ground beef in and he exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

You don’t trust anyone…the words of his therapist ran annoyingly through his mind. Instead of just shrugging off the words, he took a deep breath and slipped off his gloves, placing them in his jacket pocket. Next, he unzipped his jacket and slid it off his shoulders, exiting the kitchen to hang it on one of the hooks beside the door. He swallowed and turned around to face Helen, who’d set out a cutting board with some peppers and onions for him to dice.

“Feel better?” Helen asked, looking him in the eyes, not ogling his arm at all. He nodded, coming back into the kitchen. He’d worn a short sleeve shirt under his jacket that morning because he never planned on taking the thing off in public. “Good.” She smiled, turning a little to check the pasta.

Bucky washed his hands and then busied himself with chopping up the vegetables in a fine dice, trying to ignore the fact that she hadn’t even flinched at the fact he had a vibranium left arm. He'd at least learned to cook basic things when he was kid, so he wasn’t completely useless in instances like these. He tossed the veggies in the pan she had just drained the beef from. He stirred absently, jumping a little when she came closer to see the fruits of his labor.

Helen tried not to stare at Bucky’s vibranium arm, she had so many questions but she knew if she drew attention to it, he’d just leave. He was after all a grumpy old man, 100 years old and all alone, or so Shuri had said. She was 100 years young herself, a curse of the super soldier serum and the time she’d been frozen for. She’d just been in Wakanda last month, that’s how she knew who Bucky was and what he’d been through.

She came closer to inspect his work. Instinctively, she had come up behind him and peered over his shoulder, her left arm wrapping around his back. fingers gently resting on the cool metal of his left bicep for a moment. “Looking good.” She murmured, releasing his arm and turning back to the sink to finish cleaning up the pasta pot.

Bucky tried not to flinch at her touch. Granted the sensation was different than his flesh arm, but he could still feel that her fingers seemed at peace there, that they weren’t repulsed by the material they felt. She released him and he found himself missing her warmth. He continued to stir and she returned with more ingredients. She added the beef back to the pan, some spices and then a can of tomato soup. After letting it bubble for a few moments, she added the pasta. He stirred all of it together and let it simmer. He turned away from the stove top to find her elbow deep in soapy water, washing the dishes as she went.

“I clean as I go, otherwise they just sit for ages.” She chuckled, wiping her hands on a towel. A couple of soap suds lingered on her cheek and without thinking all the way through his actions, Bucky reached up with his left arm and swiped them away.

This time Helen did flinch. “S-sorry,” She shook her head. “You s-surprised me is all.” She explained, “You don’t scare me, Bucky.” She murmured softly, her eyes sliding closed. “Please.” She sighed, “D-don’t leave.”

Bucky swallowed and studied the trembling woman before him. He could tell she wasn’t afraid of him staying, he could tell she was afraid he’d be offended and leave her, just like everyone else. Instead of shrugging off her fear, he turned back to the pan where their dinner bubbled away and gave it a few stirs so it didn’t burn. From her reaction, he could tell she was used to not having people stay in her life. Super soldier life was, after all, a lonely existence.

Helen sniffed and covered her face for a moment before clearing her throat and squaring her shoulders. No need to get upset, Bucky wasn’t running from her, at least not yet. If he knew who she really was, and not just a pretty neighbor girl, he’d probably would run the other way. He’d probably find it incredibly creepy that she, a fellow immortal super soldier, had invited him in for dinner, knowing exactly who he was.

She instead focused on getting dinner served, trying to push down her feelings of inadequacy. She turned to the cabinet and brought out a pair of plates, setting them on the counter beside the stovetop. “Here,” She reached for the spoon in his hand. “Silverware is in the drawer by the sink.”

———

The pair moved around each other with seemingly practiced ease and brought the meal to the table in the tiny dining room. Helen had an end unit so there were two sliding glass doors with a connecting balcony, giving them a nice city skyline backdrop. Bucky settled in the chair facing the door out of habit and noticed that Helen had gravitated towards it too. “Sorry,” He moved to get up.

Helen quickly slid into the opposite chair. “No, I’m sorry.” She smiled nervously, “Habit I guess.” She laughed softly, shaking her head a little.

Bucky smirked, picking up his fork. “Looks good.” He nodded to his plate.

Helen found herself suddenly nervous. She hadn’t thought all the way through inviting him into her home. Sure, dinner out was easy, but it was another thing for him to be in her home. She picked up her fork, “I sure hope so, slaved over that hot stove for you.” She winked.

Bucky’s lips twitched and he took a mouthful of goulash. “Oh wow.” He breathed.

Helen’s nose scrunched. “That bad?”

Bucky finished chewing and swallowed. “It’s delicious.” He quickly took another forkful.

Helen dug in and echoed his sentiment. “Oh, that definitely hits the spot.”

They ate in silence for a few moments until Helen ventured a question. “Where did you grow up?”

Bucky set down his fork for a moment and wiped his mouth on his napkin. “Here, actually.” He met her eyes for a moment as he took a swig of beer. “Born and raised.”

Helen smiled. “Really?” She knew he’d come back to America after Wakanda, but she hadn’t realized that he’d come home. “It must be weird to be b-ba...uh.” She’d almost said ‘back.’

“You obviously have me at a disadvantage.” Bucky murmured, picking up his fork again.

Helen worried her lip with her top teeth. “I-I’m not sure what you-”

“You know I’m The Winter Soldier.” Bucky said after swallowing a forkful. “It’s not everyday that I meet someone and they don’t gasp when I reveal my arm.”

Helen’s eyes widened, afraid she’d crossed a line, “Were,” She corrected. “You were The Winter Soldier.”

Bucky licked his lips, “You’re right.” He sighed. “Still getting used to that.” He clicked his tongue. “Something tells me your grip is definitely not because of CrossFit or Pilates.” His brow furrowed. “So what does that make you, eh?”

Helen blinked. “Make me?” She squeaked.

Bucky swallowed another forkful. “Uh, let’s see, um, CIA?” He guessed, “FBI-”

“SHIELD.” Helen admitted. “After my time at Hydra I was taken in by SHIELD.” She looked away for a moment. “They froze me for almost fifty years, trying to figure out how to rebuild my mind since Hydra had wiped it clean.”

“Should’ve taken you to Wakanda.” He mused. Bucky’s brow furrowed again, “How old are you?”

“Jesus,” Helen scoffed. “What kind of a question is that? We barely know each other.”

“Considering we’re both have super serum running through our veins, I’d say we know each other better than we’d like to admit at this point.” Bucky countered, surprised by the looseness of his tongue. Usually it was hard for him to talk this much, especially to a complete stranger. Helen seemed to put him at ease, and for that he was cautiously grateful.

“Touche.” Helen smirked. “I was given the serum at 24 so I haven’t really aged much since then.” Bucky cocked an eyebrow. “You first.” She jutted her chin at him.

Bucky smiled. Probably the first real smile he’d smiled since coming back to Brooklyn. “106.”

“Oh,” Helen’s eyes widened. “You might be a little old for me, Mr. Barnes.” She gushed playfully before taking another bite.

Bucky chewed for a moment then swallowed. “I was given the serum at 28, so that’s not possible.”

Helen bit her lip. “Just turned 100 last week.”

So she was turned after him. Maybe after his escape, Hydra had sought to rebuild in a different direction. “Happy Birthday.” He grinned, raising his almost empty bottle.

“Thanks.” Helen accepted awkwardly, clinking her half drunk beer with his.

__

They’d just finished their meal when Helen scoffed. “I can’t believe you’re still here.”

Bucky thought for a moment. Sure, he probably should be running in the opposite direction since she was from the world he was trying so desperate to leave behind. But frankly, he was tired of running. Seeing her this morning running in the rain made him want to go with her, to feel the rain on his skin and not have a care in the world. “You cook like this all the time, you’ll have to kick me out, doll.” He gave her a wink, earning another flush on her cheeks. He sighed, getting up from the table. “More beer?” He offered, stacking their now cleaned plates.

Helen pushed up from her chair. “Sure.” She followed him into the kitchen and joined him at the sink where he’d begun to wash the plates. She glanced over at Bucky to find him subtly checking her out. “Like what you see, Sergeant?” She picked up a clean towel to dry the dishes with.

Bucky bit his lip, his eyes back on the dish in his hand. He handed her a rinsed plate. After she dried that, he handed her the last plate and let the water drain out of the sink. “Say that I do, like what I see.” He drawled, taking the towel she offered him to dry his hands. “What would you have me do next?” He ran the towel through the oven handle so it could hang to dry.

Helen swallowed against the lump of anticipation in her throat as Buckly leaned against the counter opposite of her, casually crossing his arms. “I-I thought we were going to have another beer?”

Bucky smirked. “So we were.” He pushed off the counter and opened her fridge. He pulled out two more bottles and twisted off their caps, tossing them into the bin. “Cheers.” He held out a bottle to her.

Helen took the bottle and clinked it with his. “Cheers.” She answered, a small smile playing on her lips. “You still out saving the world these days?” She asked before taking a long drag of beer to calm her nerves.

Bucky scoffed. “Not quite.” He chuckled a little before taking a swig of beer. “I’m planning on heading to D.C. tomorrow. They’ve opened up a new part of Cap’s exhibit at the Smithsonian.”

“You were close with Captain Rodgers,” Helen mused, “That might prove difficult.”

Bucky nodded. “He was like my brother.”

“That must be a terrible burden to bear.” Helen murmured, “All the people I was close with have passed on.”

Bucky knew that reality. Watching the people he was close with pass on had definitely taken a toll on him. “Yeah, perks of being a hundred years old, eh?” He shook his head a little. Seemed like Helen didn’t do small talk. He liked that. “You work with SHIELD, or?”

“Sort of,” she smiled, knowing they’d landed on a touchy subject. “I’m a liaison between SHIELD and a US Military black ops group.”

“Fancy.” Bucky scoffed. “You have a codename I’d know?”

Helen barked a laugh. “Probably not.” She pushed off the counter and sauntered over to the living room. “Come sit,” She settled on the sofa and tucked her feet underneath her. “I’m beat.”

Bucky took a deep breath then pushed off the counter and followed her to the sofa. He settled next to her, not quite touching, and stretched his right arm out along the back of the sofa behind her shoulders.

Helen swiveled to face him and continued to drink her beer. “Nightingale.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed for a moment. “Because you were a nurse?” He nodded towards the side table with the framed photograph he’d picked up earlier.

Helen nodded, fingering the frame absently. “The hospital ship I was on in WWII was captured by Hydra.” She suddenly had a very far away look in her eyes. “I-I killed a few of the agents with my side arm and got a few men off onto rescue boats. I wasn’t able to fend them all off with it.” A single tear rolled down her cheek and her lips trembled a little. “Silly to still be so upset about something that happened so long ago, eh?” She sniffled and took another drag of her beer, dashing the back of her hand over her eyes.

“No,” Bucky shook his head. “It’s really not.”

Helen studied him for a moment. “You sound like my therapist.” She scoffed with a smile before polishing off her beer. She set it on the side table.

“He says I need to learn to trust people.”

Bucky scoffed. He’d heard that one before. “Is that what I am tonight?” His lips twitched in amusement. “A therapy exercise?” He passed her his empty bottle and she set it on the end table.

Helen laughed. “Maybe?” She bit her lip. “You’re the most attractive therapy exercise I’ve attempted so far.” She murmured wryly, giving him a wink.

Bucky swiveled to face her more, his arm sliding along her own that was stretched out beside his as he inched closer. “I’d say you’re passing the exercise with flying colors so far.” He teased, now there was just a few inches between them. He could see the unease in her eyes, but also the determination to hold her ground. “Inviting me into your home, cooking a meal, telling me about Hydra and SHIELD. All steps to build genuine trust and friendship.”

Helen subconsciously licked her lips. Bucky clenched his jaw to keep from pulling her to him and kissing her senseless. “Is that what you want to be?” She sounded slightly breathless. “Friends?”

Bucky pursed his lips, “Hell, doll.” He scoffed. “I’ll settle for the neighbor down the hall you have dinner with and, uh.” He lost his nerve. He mentally kicked himself for being so forward.

“And?” Helen whispered, feeling herself fall deeper under the spell of his nearness.

Bucky moved closer still, his hand coming up from the couch to delve into her hair, gently cupping the back of her head. He brushed his nose with hers, feeling the electricity between them spark. “And, with the lady’s consent of course, enjoy each other’s intimate company.”

“Oh,” Helen breathed, she’d been thinking of this moment since he’d held the door for her in the rain this morning. “The lady does consent-“

That was all he needed to hear. Bucky closed the distance between them by pressing his lips to hers, pulling her closer to his chest. His left hand gently slid up her arm to her shoulder to pull her even closer.

Helen was losing herself in the way he seemed to envelope her and want her as close as possible. She sighed in pleasure and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Helen came up for air, resting her forehead against his. “This is a dream.” She murmured, biting her lip, eyes sliding closed.

Bucky’s lips twitched. “I’ll say.” His voice sounded heavy with want. It’s been a long time since he’d let a woman in this close. He placed a finger under her chin to tip her face up towards his. Suddenly Helen’s phone rang on the wall. “You have a landline?” He teased. She moved to get up from the couch. “Stay,” He murmured, his fingers tightening in her hair, “Let it go to the machine.”

“I should get it.” Helen sighed. “It’s probably the office.”

Bucky smirked. “No rest for the wicked.” He kissed her cheek then leaned back so she could extract herself from the comfort of the couch.

Helen rushed to the phone, “Hello.” She answered. “Yes.” She agreed to accept the charges from the call coming in.

****

“That you sweetheart?” A voice that made her blood run cold asked through the receiver.

“Yes.” Helen answered. “How are you?”

“Better now that I’m talking to you, sweetheart.” The man answered with a sneer.

“How can I be of service?” Helen asked, suddenly aware that Bucky had gotten up from the sofa to bring their empty beer bottles into the kitchen.

Bucky’s ears perked up at the strained tone of her voice. He stayed in the kitchen to give her a sense of privacy, but he could still eavesdrop some.

“What are you wearing?” The man asked. “What color are your panties?”

Helen swallowed, “Red.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” The man groaned, “that’s good.” He took a quick breath. “You gonna fuck those sweet fingers of yours and think of Daddy?”

Helen’s voice broke. “Y-yes.” She whispered.

“Good girl.” The man smiled, “You let anyone touch you and I’ll kill them, you know that I have the power to do that. Right sweetheart?”

Helen’s eyes squeezed shut, “Y-yes.”

“Say it.” The man ordered. “Out loud.”

Helen locked eyes with Bucky who had emerged from the kitchen. “If I let anyone touch me, you’ll kill them.” She murmured, voice trembling.

Bucky’s eyes widened. Who in the world would she be talking to like that? He came closer, brow furrowing as he crossed his arms over this chest to keep himself from taking the receiver from her.

“That’s right.” The man praised, “That’s my good girl.” He sighed. “Time for me to go sweetheart.”

“Already?” Helen nearly choked on the word, trying her best to feign enthusiasm.

The man chuckled darkly. “We’ll talk again soon, sweetheart. Just remember who you belong to.” Then the line went blank.

****

Bucky was close enough that he could hear the recording announce the charges to her account. She was talking to a convict? “You’re letting some asshole locked in jail harass you?” He squinted in confusion. “You’re a badass super soldier SHIELD agent, Helen, why-”

“Please,” Helen whispered. “You don’t understand.” She hung up the receiver and brushed past him to go into the kitchen.

“You’re damn right I don’t understand.” Bucky scoffed, following after her. “You could rip this guy to shreds, why take his phone calls and torture yourself?” His brow furrowed in frustration.

Helen’s tears spilled over as she reached for a bottle of whiskey. “Because he knows who I really am!” She exclaimed in a whisper, shoulders shaking. She swiped at her tears, undid the bottle cap and poured a couple of fingers worth of liquid in a rock glass.

“So he knows you’re a SHIELD agent, where’s the harm in that, doll?” Bucky came closer, gently taking the bottle from her shaking fingers.

“No,” Helen shook her head. She knocked back her glass in one go. “SHIELD doesn’t even know who I truly am.” She murmured. “I’m sorry, this,” she motioned between them, “was a bad idea.” She didn’t know what she’d been thinking, even a late night rendezvous between them put Bucky at risk.

Bucky set the bottle down on the counter, just out of Helen’s reach. “C’mon, doll.” He smirked, “We’re just getting our feet wet here.” He took a step towards her. “I was the Winter Soldier, remember?” He gently placed his right hand on her shoulder, “Some scumbag who gets off on harassing a pretty dame like you doesn’t scare me.”

Helen bit her lip. “You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“Who is he?” Bucky asked, his left hand balling into a fist.

Helen shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’ve already said too much.” She stepped back from him, causing his arm to fall. “I don’t know what I was thinking, I can’t give you what you want.” A few tears escaped down her cheeks. “You should go.”

Bucky blinked. He didn’t just want inside her apartment so he could satisfy the late night fantasy he’d had for the last six months anymore. Her confession at dinner and now this disturbing phone call had him concerned for her well being. Bucky opened his mouth to protest, but Helen turned away from him.

“Please.” Helen pleaded, louder and firmer this time. “Please leave.”

Bucky looked at the ground for a moment. Then he took a step back. “Thank you for dinner and the company Helen.” He thanked her. She just nodded, refusing to meet his eyes. “Have a good night.” Then he fled.

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x oc #the avengers #tfaws spoilers #tfatws #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d. #romance #adventure #bucky x you

[steph-is-asleep]

fic prompt: while on the meteor, dave tries to convince Karkat that he can cook even tho his cooking knowledge stops at Kraft Macaroni. it's like a cooking show if that cooking show were left unattended for most of its childhood. rose stands by inwardly just fuckin living for this shit as Dave swears to god humans eat this

I almost didn’t do this one but this is my first ever request and also I'm not a fucking quitter so

You hate living here. You hated living here when it was you and a bunch of your friends, and you hated living here when the threat of a murder was around every corner, and you hate living here now that you’re with a couple of strangers that look weird and behave weird and say weird things.

Not that they didn’t say weird things before you started living with them, the two of them had that shit on lock. But now you have to hear it come out of their mouths, and into your brain where you’re forced to visualize some of the things they say.

At first, it was kind of nice? In that new-haircut way, where you’re not confident in it, but you can’t really change it so your only option is to just wear it until it becomes you’re new normal.

You have not reached that point in your new hivemates yet, unfortunately.

You’re not friendly with the humans. Not in the same way you are over text, at least. It’s always been difficult making friends in person, even the friends that you spent your entire life with had to live with a little bit of shunning from you simply because you’re not used to sharing your space with other living beings. It’s weird.

When the Strider human approaches you (and you call him that because you think it’s fucking weird to address someone by just a one-syllable name, and last names are more comfortable than just refusing to address him, not to mention rude) it only spells bad energy. Rancid vibes as he puts it.

You’re curled up on the sofa, in the recreation center, reading the same book you found in a decrypted hallway a few weeks ago. The cover of the book is so smudged and ripped, there’s no cover really, and some of the pages are torn out, but it’s kind of fun imaging what the missing pages had in them. Strider smacks something on the table in front of you and it makes your whole body jolt and hair stand up on end as your claws grip the pages and tear them even more. Great, that’s like a whole six more words you’ll have to make up later.

As you peel the parchment off your fingertips, you finally look up at him. You do your best to look annoyed, but you know you’re just tired. He’s got that look on his face. The one that says--

“Check this shit out.”

Good, god, yeah, that look. The thing he slammed on your table was a box, small, probably less than ten inches tall, and thing, only about an inch wide and deep, and a bright fucking blue with ugly bright yellows to contrast it. The design alone makes your lip turn slightly. “Whatever the fuck you want to bother me with this time, I guarantee I don’t have the patience for it. And I usually have the patience for it.”

“Total lie, but it’s okay, I forgive you, ‘cause this is gonna blow your fucking alien fucking troll mind, dude. This,” And he holds up the box, suddenly you feel as though you’re being sold something and you really really don’t want it. “is a Kraft dinner, and it’s called kraft cause it was crafted by the straight-up amazing ass food gods, not us ‘cause we’re different.”

You don’t want to talk. You feel like talking will encourage him to keep going, but he keeps going regardless as if you aren’t even there.

“I’m under the impression that you don’t know what this is, or even what’s inside of it, so lemme give you the tour.” Strider opens up the box and decaptulouges what appears to be an entire fucking metal basin, cooking surface, and a whole fucking sink. It’s...food. You suppose. Considering you’re not entirely certain what humans classify as ‘dinner’, it does not seem to be the same as what you do.

Strider dumbs the box into the metal basin, and out clatters little hard....let’s be honest here, they’re tubes. Tiny tubes.

“Is--” You start, and try to reach forward to touch the tubes. Strider smacks your hand away with a sharp slap and you hiss and pull back. “Dude, fuck off, I'm doing a bit here. Keep your hands and feet in the ride at all times, you know the drill.”

“What drill! There’s no d--I don’t want to be part of your stupid bit! All you ever do is run around with your little fucking god powers and make shit do other shit and turn shit into other shit and make a mess and who has to clean it up?? Karkat does, Karkat cleans up everything and he never gets a single please, or thank you or anything! And now you want me to watch you eat plastic and pretend it’s food?? I’m not falling for it, especially not this time, you blabbering, annoying fuckhead.”

The noises he makes, which you think are meant to pacify you, sound kind of like a tea kettle that’s only just starting to boil, a soft hiss/shush noise while tapping you on the shoulder. “Just trust me on this one, it’ll all be worth it.”

Fuck it, what else are you gonna do? Count pebbles??

After you seem like you’re going to allow him to continue, Strider fills the basin with water, and puts it on the cooking apparatus, turning the thing on and mumbling while he puts on his weird little show.

“Water’s gettin’ hot and it’s ‘bout to get hotter, fill it to the top, make sure it doesn’t splatter--no that’s fucking stupid, scratch that, reverse, uh, actually fast forward...” There’s his dumb little powers again. Before your very eyes, the water’s boiling. You peak over the top curiously and the little plastic tubes are big, pale and bendy. They peak over the water just a little, not completely submerged. He conveniently opens up his sylladex again and pulls out...a bowl with holes on it??

“You didn’t salt the water, Dave, you’re supposed to salt the water.” You peak over your shoulder and see Lalonde, the other human, in the doorway. She’s leaning her hip against the framing, arms crossed and smiling. How long has she been there. “Whatever, it doesn’t even make it heat up faster, who care.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“I’m absolutely not.” He then dumps the pasta out of the basin into the bowl, all the water spilling out into the sink. You’ll admit, now your interest is piqued. The tubes are soft now! Just from cooking in water??

You’ve decided your interest is un-piqued. Even as Lalonde continues to make fun of her human counterpart for not putting human salt rocks into a big pot of water where they would surely sink to the bottom and not add any experience to soft squish tubes. But you don’t say anything, because you’re tired of being made fun of for not understanding human cultures. Mouth shut.

Lalonde scoffs, baffled. “It’s for seasoning, Dave.”

“It’s cheese, Rose, it has all the flavors it needs!”

As they bicker, you see Strider move the tubes from the bowl to the basin again, stove off and he picks out a little white pouch, opens it and dumps it in. You watch with astonishment and disgust. Those tubes looked perfectly suitable!!

The two of them look to you, Rose with surprise but Dave keeps the same face on regardless. Strider has stopped stiring, with the big ol’ spoon he took out as well, which was changing the color of the tubes and making them into this gross mush that looked a lot like the insides of some animals back home. You almost gag, but manage to hold it back just enough. “I know it’s probably weird to you, but I swear it’s good, here gimme a sec.”

“Listen, bro, I'm basically a fucking M and C expert, I use to eat this shit for weeks on end.”

“Yes, and then you’d faint on your keyboard from iron deficiency.”

“That was one time, and it wasn’t even because of that, it was because of something else completely.”

“DUDE WHAT THE FUCK!” You sit up and shout, now kind of angry that Dave ruined perfectly good tubes and was acting like nothing was even weird about it.

You’ll admit you’re curious. So when he starts to pull out a little spoon, and get you some on it, it makes a little squelch noise and you do gag at that, and he holds it up for you to take. You do. And you stare at it for a really really long time. With as much care and precision as you can manage, you take one little tube. out and eat it.

It doesn’t...taste like anything. Not strongly of anything at least. You almost wonder what steps occurred to bring this sort of thing into existence. Not only on earth but here, on the meteor. You don’t say anything, just handing the spoon back to Strider. It’s the most polite way you can think of.

Still, he asks, “it’s good isn’t it?”

#i really hope u like this #i dont write know or care about dave or ross #and i havemt read the meteor part of hs 1 in a long time #cause ya know #sollux isnt in it #please dont tag as ship thank u #idk u can envision whatever u want just dont let me know #karkat vantas #rose lalonde #dave strider

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Ok but what if Chris is with Jake at like,, a store or in public or something and they run into Joanne and Chris just,,,, doesn’t recognize her. At all. And then it kinda clicks —(that she’s a terrible person)— that something is wrong

CW: PTSD/flashback response, trauma recovery, negative stimming including head banging

Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @stxckfxck, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout, @doveotions

Icing-coated animal crackers. That iced coffee that comes in the big bottle with the red label - not the green one, it has to be the red one. It’s a good color of red and the iced coffee inside is sweet, just a little. They’re buy-one-get-one in the store and Jake throws six of them in the cart, why the fuck not. Those little cups of macaroni-and-cheese with the neon-colored orange sauce that comes out of a packet. Whole boxes of ramen packets, beef and something called ‘chili lime shrimp’. 

Milk, apple juice, coffee creamer (cinnamon sugar and egg nog, Jake never misses a chance for eggnog creamer when it shows up in November). Three whole frozen turkeys, they’re down to rock-bottom prices leading up to Thanksgiving and he can keep them frozen to use whenever they need a week’s worth of meat at once. Stuff for taco night, for pizza night, beer, bell peppers and cilantro, some anchovies for some kind of pasta thing Antoni insists on doing, sliced black olives... the list goes on and on and on.

Jake never minds. Grocery shopping is kind of... meditative, really. Chris bops alongside him, darting ahead to grab something he spotted and toss it in the cart, lingering back behind Jake to look at the label on a bottle of sparkling water, eyes carefully unfocused so he won’t try to read it, just enjoying the little painted image of grapes. 

The grocery store’s way out of the way for them, but Jake borrowed Nat’s truck today so he could take Chris to see a museum exhibit on the Spanish flu and its effect on lower-class and first-generation immigrant populations, a little bit of credit for one of his public health classes. Chris loved the museum the way that little kids love museums, all wide-eyed wonder and getting lost in exhibits until Jake had to all but drag him to the next one. 

They’d stayed in the museum for four hours - seen things, had lunch, gone back to see more - and Jake really, really needs to get the groceries before he comes home. Hence, kind of a hoity-toity grocery store outside their usual neighborhoods. The kind of place where they might actually raise an eyebrow at him if they knew why he bought three frozen turkeys, that it will save them next month when money’s at its tightest. 

Jake knows how to buy for poverty, and he doesn’t actually have to do that anymore, but the habit’s still there.

Chris has been such a constant blur of motion that Jake nearly runs into him with the almost-totally-full cart before he realizes that Chris is standing perfectly still staring over at the wine area.

It’s one of those stores, too - the wine is all shelved in custom-made stained wood to make it look like a small fancy wine store all its own, with a table where a man in a green apron is giving out samples of wine from a valley in Italy Jake doesn’t care about. There’s a woman sipping one of the samples and it’s her that Chris is staring at.

She has short dark brown hair cut into a stylish bob and she’s wearing a sweater that probably cost as much as one of Jake’s student loan payments, nice dark slacks. Looks like she’s come straight from work or something. There’s nothing special about her whatsoever, from Jake’s perspective.

“Chris?”

Chris jumps, spinning around, blinking at Jake. There’s a look around his eyes, like a panicking animal feeling a trap close around it, that makes Jake tense up immediately too. “Um, what?”

“... you okay, man? You look... spooked. Do you know her?”

Chris blinks and looks back at the woman. She chooses a bottle out of a little fake basket several are nestled into with cheese and fruit like it’s a fucking picnic at the fucking grocery store. As if she can feel the eyes on her, she looks up - and meets Chris’s gaze.

There’s a pause, where Jake could absolutely swear the woman knows who Chris is - and then she looks away with a blank expression like she hasn’t seen anything. It’s weirdly fake, though. Put on, like a trick. She turns and walks quickly in the other direction, shoulders slightly hunched. Jake stares after her as she sets the wine bottle down on a shelf and hurries right out the door.

“What the... fuck?”

“I think...” Chris winces, puts a hand up to his head, grinds his teeth against the headache Jake can see, the thunderclap of pain he gets as his reward for trying to locate a memory. “I th-think she, she, she... she she... worked... there...”

Jake’s knuckles go white on the shopping cart handle as he watches the dark-haired bob disappear out into the parking lot. The woman is nearly running. “The, um. The...”

“F-Facility.” Chris’s face is pale, unsettled. He hunches into himself and Jake feels the tension around him as Chris starts to fiddle with a bracelet he wears on his left wrist all the time now, pulling the nylon rope it’s made of, twisting the little metal bits in it, rubbing it in circles around his wrist. At the same time, he starts to rock, back and forth, just a little on his feet. “I think she-she worked there, I was... I was... tired...”

Jake looks slowly down at the cart full of food, closes his eyes. Shit. They’ve been in this store forever getting everything they’ll need for weeks. They’re not going to find such big turkeys at such a good price at the dinky stores closer to home. It’s all going to be such a mess and a waste and...

Chris’s face is pinched and pale, his eyes squinting through the pain that must be rocketing around inside his head. Jake takes a deep breath, lets it out. “She, she, she-she-she... I know-... I was really-... really tired, something... tired and, and, and... and... and and there were handlers and I kept asking-...”

Jake grabs the first person in a green apron with a nametag he sees and apologizes for the food waste, gives them back the cart, and takes Chris by an arm around his shoulders to help lead him out the door. Chris’s eyes are nearly screwed shut completely at the agony, fighting through it. He can’t see to walk and Jake has to hold him tightly, aware that they look more like some creepy dick and his teenage boyfriend than what they actually are. 

Makes him wonder what the lady who apparently works at WRU thought when she saw Chris with Jake.

By the time Jake gets him to the truck Chris is shaking all over, and Jake just stands with his back against the hot metal frame and pulls Chris to him, holding him while Chris rocks hard in his arms, twists fingers into his shirt, taps against him, makes strange low moaning sounds that seem nearly inhuman and also incredibly full of very human grief.

Jake gets him into the truck and waits, holding him, while he clings and cries and shakes and rocks and hits himself and rages against memories he isn’t allowed to have any longer.

Memories he cannot give words to. Thoughts he isn’t allowed to have. He can’t verbalize any of them, only sob. Jake doesn’t try to force him, just puts a hand behind his head to direct it into the crook of his neck, let Chris bury himself in darkness to protect against the way, in moments like this, he fears the light.

By the time Jake gets him calmed down, he can’t remember why he recognized the woman anymore. Can’t even describe her to Jake, only two hours after he’d seen her. He can’t remember anything about the grocery trip past the bread aisle, it’s been pushed under the surface where all the painful things go.

At some point, while they’re on the highway, Chris admits he can’t remember the grocery store at all now.

Jake gets Chris home and settled and goes out to get the groceries all over again from one of the local spots, and he can’t stop wondering if that woman shops at the fancy store regularly.

He can’t stop wondering if, having seen Chris there exactly once and with that look on her face when she did, she’ll avoid it from here on out just to ensure she never sees Chris again.

#whump #trauma recovery #flashback tw #ptsd tw #memory loss #conditioning #conditioned whumpee #box boy #box boy universe #box boy multiverse #chris the strawberry blond romantic #jake the shelter guy #escaped whumpee #recovering whumpee #trauma recovery whump #recovery whump

[snowdice]

Goblin Brain Study Session Fic 1 [Day 2]

I don’t want to just have walls of text for my Goblin Brain Study Session posts so I’ll separate them by days. Previous parts of the story are under the cut and then I’ll reblog this one which each new part today. (Note my internet wasn’t working so there is one new part I posted earlier today under the cut. I couldn’t make this post because I was on mobile.) 

See this post for more details and feel free to send me asks to keep me going! It’s been fun so far!!

Patton had just wanted to get groceries. He was planning on making homemade macaroni and cheese for himself this weekend. He went around the store and grabbed all kinds of different cheeses (some which he did not known recognize the names of and might not actually make good Macaroni and Cheese, but how could he resist the cute little goats on it) and little mini shell pasta. He also picked up some heavy cream and then headed to the cash registers with his spoils. He’d been a bit distracted with plans for cooking when he’d gotten into his car to drive home.

The next thing he knew, there was a knife at his throat. He paused. “Hi?” he said tentatively.

“Put your keys into the ignition and drive,” a dark voice said into his ear.

Patton took a deep breath. “Sure,” he said, reaching forward to slowly do as the man asked. “Any particular direction we’re going in?”

“Fucking I don’t know. Just drive,” he said. “I’ll give you directions later.”

“Alright,” Patton agreed and put the car into reverse. “Can I turn my head to make sure I’m not backing into anything?” he asked.

The knife retreated a bit in answer.

Patton turned his head slowly and looked back while letting his foot off the break and quickly scanned his new friend out of the corner of his eye. There wasn’t much to be seen. He had a dark hoodie covering most of his frame, but a few tuffs of dark hair stuck out of it, framing a pale face with a streak of blood down his cheek and a purpling bruise near his eye.

Patton didn’t indicate that he’d seen any of this, instead choosing to turn back to face front and drive out of the grocery store parking lot.

The knife returned though it didn’t touch him this time. It just hovered. He chose to drive towards the interstate, careful to keep his hands on the steering wheel and make no sudden movements.

“Why are you getting on the interstate?” the man behind him asked. There was a caution in his tone, but he didn’t seem suspicious of the move.

“You wanted me to drive and I don’t know where or how long. There’s a lot more driving to do out here than in town,” Patton explained. “Is that okay?”

“I…” he responded. “Yeah, sure.”

So, Patton continued to drive.

Eventually the knife started to retreat a bit, though it was still there. About 30 minutes into the ride, Patton decided it was okay to speak. “Would you want to come sit in the passenger seat?” he asked softly. “You can lean the knife across the console at my side. It’d probably be a bit more comfortable.”

The knife returned to Patton’s neck. “No,” he said firmly.

“Okay,” Patton agreed calmly.

Yet, despite his initial reaction, it was less than 5 minutes later that the knife dropped a bit again. “… I’m moving to the front seat,” he grumbled. Patton suppressed a smile.

There was shifting around in the back and then a body threw itself up into the passenger seat. He scrambled into a sitting position and rushed to point the knife back at Patton. Patton just kept driving. After a few minutes he relaxed a bit again.

Patton bit back the words ‘Put your seatbelt on,’ and instead said. “Figured out where we’re going yet?”

“Uh…” he replied. “Do you know any places associated with Green Bellow Foods?”

Hmmm. “I think there’s an abandoned factory near Livington. Would that work?”

“Yeah. Let’s go there.”

“Okay. It’s about a 3-hour drive from here.”

“Great,” he hissed.

Patton glanced over at him. He was still just a blob of black fabric for the most part as the hoodie still covered most of his body, but when he glanced over at Patton, he revealed a bit more of his face. Patton was surprised by how young it looked. He looked like a teenager, likely not even a legal adult. “Since we’re going to be driving for a while,” Patton broached after a few more minutes to let him settle in the front seat. “Can we get something to eat? I have a lot of cheese in the back, but I’m lactose intolerant so that’s probably not a good idea for a closed car.”

#study break stories #patton sanders #vigil sanders #knifes #kidnapping #carjacking

[obeymeoof]

general cooking headcanons for the demon boys? Like what kind of dishes the boys would make when it's their day to cook? Whose the best at it and who's the worst?

This actually took me a while to write since im not much of a foodie nor do I know how to cook ;-; but it was really fun and I put more thought into it than was needed. I also struggled with who would be the top three ha.

In first place we have:

Beel

It only makes sense that the avatar of gluttony would be an amazing cook.

With as much as this boy eats, surely he would have to rely on himself to make enough to relieve that hunger.

Makes foods that would be very filling and of course taste good

 Uses  a ton of meat and potatoes

Its also canon that he cooks for his brother

So Beel wins due to his stockpile of recipes and knowing flavors and such after having tasted anything and everything.

What he would cook? Prime Rib With Potatoes. Keeps your tummy full and your taste buds happy

In 2nd place: 

Asmo

So he was originally lower on the list but I feel like having the ability to cook food would have some role to play when he’s seducing people

People DO say the quickest way to someone’s heart is through their stomach after all

There are 2 ways asmo could go. He seems like someone that would like pasta and salad, So of course I came to the conclusion that he would make pasta salad.

However, he is also very flashy so its totally possible that asmo would make something that is equally as flashy. For example, lobster tortellini with white wine cream sauce

In 3rd place:

Satan 

I put him in 3rd place mainly because he has probably read a bunch of cook books out of curiosity or pure boredom.

The only reason he isn’t farther up/ number one is because I feel as though he would always need to have the recipe out no matter how many times he has made it

Would make sushi when its his day to cook. He can give the extra fish to the cats in the streets and befriend them all 

In 4th place:

Belphie

Very good at making comfort foods that feel you up and make you sleepy

He is lower on the list because sometimes he gets lazy and dosen’t season it right or will fall asleep while making it and burn it.

Likes making food that will keep him satisfied for a while because it allows him to go into hibernation without being disturbed by hunger pains.

Will make beef stew on his day.

5th place is:

Levi

Levi made it into third place thanks to his shut-in otaku nature.

Knows how to cook the foods that are in his animes.

However they’re not always the healthiest.

Anything past his anime cuisines though and hes completely lost.Has an awful diet other than that.

Would totally cook ramen or katsudon

In 6th place:

Lucifer(contains a little spoiler about one of the devilgram stories)

My original thought process was that Lucifer would be in the number one or 2 spot seeing as how he takes on the caregiver role in the house of lamentation 

But, I remembered that in “Lucifer’s Melancholy”, he completely botched a batch of cookies. Like, it didn’t even look like cookies. 

So I think he is pretty bad at cooking.

But, as the avatar of pride, he can’t let the others know that. So he will instead, very strategically pick something very simple to cook.Something that looks good enough to seem like it had a fair amount of effort put into it, but not be too hard to make.

Would make black bean stuffed sweet potatoes.

anddd in last:

Mammon

has potential to be higher but surprise, surprise! Hes too greedy.

Time is money! So of course he dosen’t have time to be wasting on making some extravagant, well thought-out dinner. He’s got money to spend make!  

Will straight up bail out on his cooking duties or make something like macaroni and cheese. Might put some frozen chicken tenders and fries in the oven.If he is feeling really giving, he will make tacos. But he will only cook the meet and chop up the tomatoes, lettuce, and other stuff. The brothers can do the rest on their own

2/12/2020

#obey me! #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me asmo #obeyme headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me mammon #ModDitz

[armyhome]

Make it Right | Kim Seokjin| Eng

⇢ pairing: Seokjin x Reader.

⇢ genre: Cute, sad, funny, healing.

⇢ word count: 5.5K

⇢ warnings: Maybe this will make you dream with eyes open.

⇢ Portuguese version: Make it Right (PT-BR)

When (We met for the first time)

I remember very well how it was the first time we met, I mean when I met him. Grandpa put a bowl of Jjajjangmyun in front of me, the smell was amazing, he smiled at me, we had decided to do a gastronomic backpack in Asia two years ago, to celebrate my high school graduation and we finally started it, last week in Yokohama Japan. Now we were in Seoul, Korea, then we would go to Taipei, Taiwan.

              -I want you to learn to identify nuances, even with strong flavored foods! Ready Sol? - He raises the chopsticks and I raise mine - Lets Go!

              The thickness and texture of the noodles in Asia was different, probably because of how it was prepared, did the black bean paste have a bittersweet flavor? Perhaps because of the mixed red meat, I had never eaten a bean that was sweet ... My analysis is interrupted by a boy drawing on my face.

              He was not drawing literally on my face, but on the mirrored glass in front of me, he was accompanied by two more friends in the prank, he drew a rose, like that of Beauty and the Beast. We could be the inverted version of the fairy tale, because that boy was so beautiful that even if I were even remotely beautiful.... He stops drawing and looks at his work of art. At that moment it seemed that he could see through the mirror and could see my eyes staring with a piece of macaroni out of the mouth with bean paste in her corner, my heart giving a jolt and choking.

              Grandpa gives me a glass of water I try, drink it but the cough stops me, the man who took care of the cashier gets up because of the noise I was making and ends up seeing the boys, I finally manage to drink a big sip of water, ceasing my near death, when I look at the street again, only the rose was the owner screamed in front of the restaurants did not understand things, Grandpa gives slaps.

              - Eat slowly, Sol! You look like me when I met your grandmother ...- He ends up laughing, my cheeks are burning as if there is fire running under her skin, the idea of falling in love at first sight was ridiculous , I had just been enchanted by the boy's beauty.

              - Have you always been so romantic , Grandpa? - He nods smiling - Wow, Grandma is a lucky woman! - I say and eat again.

              -Who knows that boy can't be lucky too? - He wasn't going to give up, he needed to distract him with something that really changed his focus.

              -Grandpa... this pasta is really different, texture, taste .... How to do it?

              -Then during the preparation of the dough ...

When (We know each other)

              Ten years later

I walked into Enrico's restaurant, he really had found a nice spot in New York to open it. The rent for that penthouse two blocks from Times Square should be at least a left kidney!

 The location was beautiful, one part was open and there was AN ARTIFICIAL LAKE! Who had Enrico killed to achieve this ? Metri asks to guide me to where he was, I just nod, I can't remember how to speak english, that place was a palace , where he had learned so much about oriental interior design?

              As soon as he sees me, Enrico gets up from the table and walks up to me with open arms smiling, I hurry up the steps and the hug, which I miss my friend.

              -Who did you kill to have this here? - I whisper to him.

              -As I am not a murderer, I ended up giving the blow to the chest - He points to the boy at the table, he looked like an MMA fighter because of his big and strong body, but his face was kind as a child's when he sees me smiles and his eyes become a fine line, he beckons us - Come on, you need to meet Jaemin and his friends! They are famous, can you believe? I doubt you know who they are, after all you live locked up in restaurant kitchens around the world and writing on that blog.

              -You mean, that blog that can destroy your restaurant's reputation with just a few words? Didn't even debut and already wants to close the doors Erinco Vigolini? - He looks at me with wide eyes.

              -Who taught you to be a snake like that? - I pointed to him who puts his hand on his chest, pretending indignation and then smiles - Okay, that may be a little true!

              Their table was in an open area , it was summer in NY and there was little wind, at most it had a brief breeze, they were all talking, but when Jaemin got up to greet me, everyone turned to do the same.

              My eyes must be broken, I can't believe it, it's not possible, a decade later, I'm facing that boy, now a man, in front of me the difference is that now he can see me. His hair was pink, it matched the delicate features of his face, he smiled kindly at me, I sat facing him, if my heart beat a little faster I would die.

              -Enrico talked a lot about you Sol - Jaemin begins - He told me that you are a very important gastronomic critic in the culinary world and that is why he became your friend in college, for you to give high marks to our restaurant! - Enrico gives a playful slap on the shoulder - She knows it's a joke love!

              -Enrico knows how fair I am in all my criticisms , regardless of my personal connection with the person and that my criticisms have no intention of hurting or belittling the owner, but that he self-evaluates and makes improvements that he may not have noticed because he is so immersed in the project, I usually send a summary of the criticism first to the owner then put it in full on the site ...

              -See Jaemin, I'm a friend of an angel! - They cross their arms and Jaemin lays his head on Enrico's.

              -I think we will be a little excluded from the conversation now - Comments one of the boys in Korean.

              -Sorry - We asked Jaemin and I at the same time, they looked at me in amazement.

              -Since when do you know Korean? - Asks Enrico.

              -I learned during high school, I was hoping to meet someone but, I didn't know if he would know English, so I decided to learn her native language to make sure we could talk! - Enrico claps enthusiastically.

            -I don't believe that Sol Macedo's heart of ice ever had anyone inside! - I roll my eyes and take a glass, Jaemin pours me some wine.

              -Enrico told me that everyone here is famous, what do you do?

              I believe that in this world there were no people more excited about what they did and more kind, they performed one by one, including Seokjin, so they told me about their songs and performance with such education and happiness, Enrico made sure to score all the records of the seven boys in front of me but, the simplicity that emanated from them made it difficult for me to assimilate them into popstars, I can't stop looking at him every thirty seconds, breathe Sol, now he is a superstar, your life runs in ways very different.

              -Is that you? How is the life of a critic ? - He, Seokjin, asks.

              - Hum, sometimes it is difficult to choose the right words, to not deeply offend someone and also, some people are not willing and know themselves and do not take what I have to say seriously, prefer to blame the fail on business on me them have not worked or grown but, food is not just about something that was written on my website, not everyone reads, in fact only those who know the branch are aware of my website and some passionate, but with so much fast food, people no longer cares about food made by real people... But I have my personal rewards, like now, I'm in a beautiful restaurant, eating the best of Korean cuisine, with the biggest boyband today ...

              -It's GROUP, not boyband! - Corrects Enrico.

              -The biggest male group of Korean pop music - I correct myself being extremely emphatic in every word, making everyone at the table laugh, I tie my hair in a ponytail, when I raise my arms and the sleeve goes up revealing my tattoo , which was not small , why did I make that rose covering half of my forearm?

              -Does it mean something? - Seokjin asks with a raised eyebrow, is it not possible that he remembered it?

              -Hyung looks like those drawings you did everywhere! - Affirms Namjoon, thanks man, thank you for sinking me into shit for good! -Seriously, he drew this all over Seoul!

              -Oh, what a coincidence, it was there that I got the idea of ​​this tattoo, ten years ago my grandfather and I did a gastronomic backpack, I saw a rose like this drawn in the restaurant we went to! - I speak quickly as if I were narrating a football match, and have a glass of wine at once.

              -Come on, kids, it's time for Kina Grannis to perform in there, everyone already eaten right? - Enrico called.

              He takes us to the opposite side to where we were , we were at the far end of the people who were dining there downstairs, did I say that this place was incredible ? Enrico should be charging a fortune for each dish! Kina was a special attraction, she was elegant as the whole environment but she was, only she and her guitar which brought a touch of simplicity, when she started singing Can't Help Falling In Love, everyone in the room made "own" together .

              Jaemin and Enrico danced together, would that ever be? For so long I waited for when I graduated, to have a good job, a boy who drew a rose for me ten years ago who has now become a completely untouchable person ...

              -I remember you - Whispered in my ear, he puts both hands in the pockets of the beige blazer he wore, leans over and repeats - I remember you Sol! That day, I saw you and your grandfather, taking a picture in front of the restaurant! Did you see me drawing on the mirrored glass?

              I can't feel my legs... help. 

When (We fall in love)

   Five months later

              I go into the kitchen and find Seokjin without a shirt, yes, cooked, imagine if a drop of the hot oil in which he was sautéing the rice falls on that smooth, smooth skin of him, he turns in my direction, I jump to him, I am very in love on that man. He uses his left arm to wrap my waist on tiptoe and he bends me over to give me a peck.

              -Don't burn the garlic - I comment, he grimaces and goes back to cooking, I hug him and support my head and his back - How long until the comeback?

              -Love, I don't want to think about it, it's only been two days since I arrived, to think that in two weeks I'll be back to train and I won't see you for how long it hurts me - I hear him fill the pot with water and put the lid on, he then turns to me - I deeply love the army, my work and you! It hurts not to be able to reconcile the three!

              He holds my face in his hands and kisses my forehead, then rests his face on my shoulder, I kiss him on the cheek and he sighs.

              -What movie are we going to watch today? - Change the subject, I didn't want to make him sad.

              -Can we just be together today? - He says in the morning , a smile grinning.

              -Nothing against, who insists on protecting false virtues here is you! - He looks at me angrily - The speaker is not here anymore!

              He started the timer and we lay on the double bed, our 3X4 loft as I called it, because everything was in the same room, it was in Nagoya in Japan, Seokjin wanted to buy an apartment but, I had spent all my savings to open my restaurant, contrary to what many people may think, a food critic doesn’t earn much, we don’t die of hunger because we need to eat to write and usually the owner of the establishment invites us. It wouldn't be worth it either, our stuff was in Korea, we 'd only have three weeks. 

              -What was the first thing you thought of when you first saw me Sol? - Man, it was difficult to create a line of reasoning with him speaking against my neck.

              -Hum, "if my heart beats faster I might die" - He laughs, universe you are proof that I am trying not to attack this man - And you, what did you think when you first saw me?

              - "How can I tell her that we are getting married without scaring her?" - I give a slap on his arm, washed-out liar, he laughs - I am completely in love with you and that time had something in you, I can not explain without being corny, I just wanted to be able to stay there with you, looking at you! I think it was our destiny if we ended up going back to each other! - He grabs my arm and puts his thumb on my tattoo - As soon as I leave the obligatory service I'm gonna do my!

              -Will make the whole army infarct! You don't have to, this is my thing! I know how to handle bad one in Korea if you do this, it was hard to sell me the location of the restaurant! - I take her hand and give her a kiss.

            -We can make a red line on the little finger, I can use a ring or makeup to cover ...

              -You have to promise me Seokjin, it will continue to be so romantic even after we get married, I don't want to know if three hundred years have passed and our souls can't stand sharing the tomb anymore ! Kim Seokjin will always say things like that to Sol!

              -Only if you promise to look at me like that forever - He holds my earlobe between his thumb and forefinger.

              -I never learned to look at you any other way!

              He brings his face close to mine, I can feel his breath against my face, how is it possible to be so desperately in love with a person, before we could kiss the alarm warning that the rice had cooked rings. UNIVERSE STOP MAKE FUN OF ME!

When (We brake)

              A year and a half later

              I think if it had been gradually I would not be suffering so much, I know he is busy, the person busiest in the world, but it just stopped responding messages, said nothing on the day the restaurant opened, I sent a lot of messages of support when you had the comeback but, nothing, no emoji! I watched each video, looked at each photo, bought the album, cried over it, how could he lie using such sincerity? Would it be better to go home?

              No, never! I will not give up on my dream, just because of a broken heart, nobody dies of it! Whoever doesn't want me, doesn't deserve me! Focus now in a little while, I'm going to do the first television broadcast about cooking and restaurants in my life. I must be brooding over this subject, because I wanted him to be here and tell me he was rooting for me, but that's not it, period .

              I look at my reflection in the mirror, nothing can break you to the point where you stop working! You are a chef, now awarded, with a renowned restaurant in Seoul, you lead projects that propose to bring quality food to all corners of the world, especially those that have no access at all. You are a good person and you have done nothing wrong.

              -Miss Sol? We are ready to start you! - I smile and follow the boy.

              The interview went very well, the reporter makes me feel comfortable to speak, let's go from my training, my blog, the construction of my restaurant in Seoul, my projects with NGO's and if I want to marry an Korean guy it was very fun, almost like talking to one of my friends, I don’t even notice the time of the interview passing, when I find myself finished.

              I leave the studio, enter the parking lot and when I'm almost there in the car, Jungkook appears in front of me all frisky and smiling at me offering a cup of coffee, it was freezing outside so I open the car door, to enter and call the heater.

              -I missed you, Sol noona! - I smile, he was very cute.

              -I also missed you kookie, how are you?

              -I'm fine, we're going to the United States to receive an award, can you believe? - I nod, they had already won before, but now it was a prize given by an academy.

              -I am very proud and cheering for you all! - He pats himself on the head as if he was amazed at the memory of something.

              -I'll be quick, because if not soon the FBI will be looking for me - Not being dramatic at all - Hyung saw that day that the NGO's director declared to you! And in his mind, that was the best thing for you, how can he decide that on his own, I don't know? He said something about never being able to stay around for a long time, you need someone better, all this litany that I don't fall for, if it were true you wouldn't send messages to him, me and the other boys, cheering, saying that you are proud and talking who misses him for him, even after a year! He's being stupid but, it's because he loves you so much! He wants to see you one hundred percent happy! He thinks that a present boyfriend would do that .... Well let's spend two and a half weeks in the USA, it's not fair that I ask you to forgive him after he just disappears but, you two are suffering! Think about it noona, we were watching your interview hidden, you were beautiful - He gives me a kiss on the cheek - Don't tell hyung!

            -Lend me your Jungkook cell phone - He hands it to me without thinking too much, I type the number of Seokjin I know by heart, one ring, two ...

              -Junkookie where are you? The broadcast starts in twenty minutes! - I hold my heart when I hear his voice.

              -Who gave you the right to decide for me? - My voice comes out tearful, I get angry, I feel weak, no one answers on the other end of the line - Kim Seokjin answers me, I've spent more than a year dealing with your silence, not knowing what I did wrong ....

              -You did nothing wrong my love ....

              -Don't call me love, you put me in a hell Seokjin, I was banging my head against the wall wondering what had happened! Watching your videos, watching you get thinner and thinner, are you eating by any chance? Are your back hurting from training? Did you have ginger tea when you had a sore throat? You can see all of these messages on your phone later! I am so hurt, all our promises, all our confessions, on hold, because you thought you could decide what is best for me! Well here is your answer Seokjin, me in pain, heartbroken! But, even if I miss you, I won't take a step towards you! Is it your duty to clean up this mess you cause yourself do you understand?

              -Yes ... I miss you too Sol! - Your voice is choked.

              -So do something about it, but do it fast! I'm going on a mission to Myanmar in a week, I'm going to spend four months there, that's more than enough time for you to decide what you want out of your life, but I can't guarantee that I'll be here for you when I get back too! It is your responsibility now to save this relationship or let it die for good ...

              -I see, I can't love anyone but you ...

              -You'll have to prove it to me now! Since you made a point of complicating what was already difficult !

              -I promise, I will!

When (We Grow)

              Two months later

              It is one thing to see photos, videos over the internet, it is quite another to see an undernourished child feeling that a human being can break with his touch is tormenting, the civil war in that country had wiped out all drinking water resources and food, all that arrived was fifty percent confiscated by the army to keep soldiers and the other half was not enough for all civilians.

  -The supplies will run out in two days if we do nothing Sol - Sandy comments while analyzing his table, massaging his temples .

              -I can't find a solution, even if we buy food, the army will take half, we don't have enough budget to buy so much, doctors are also running out of resources ... How far has humanity come! - I throw myself in bed, besides, why is this place so hot? It's only been five seconds since I showered and I want another one.

              I open my cell phone, go on twitter, look at pictures of Seokjin and the boys, of course, I needed to distract myself a little from all that unfortunate situation , every step I took made me feel guilty for living so well and healthy , like the people who finance this war they sleep, how the lords of arms managed to kiss their wives and children at the end of the day knowing that they were supporting the death of so many people? Seokjin's name flashes on the screen as if he heard my thoughts from the United States.

              -Hiii- I force an animated voice.

              -What is happening? Are you alright? I saw in the newspaper that there was a terrorist attack today in a mosque, Sol tells me that you are fine! How long until you get out of there? You've helped enough! - He doesn't even stop to breathe .

              -I don't know if I can get out of here, it's two months before the end of the voluntary project but - I take a deep breath, I had already thought about it a few times but thinking is one thing, verbalizing, another completely different - Everything these children need to go through is so unfair, hunger, abuse, mourning after mourning, I don't know if I will be able to return to Korea in two months ... Except that I also don't know if I will be able to stay, our supplies are running out, we have no idea how to change this situation, the army takes half of everything, it's revolting! - I let some tears escape - How can I live well after knowing all this?

              -'You have no blame for the misery of these people Sol ... But I understand how you feel, at times received letters from armys or tweets of them, venting things horrible for which they have gone through or are going through, the sense of responsibility overwhelms me, I imagine that watching people go through this must be even worse, but always keep in mind Sol, it’s not your fault! - I take a deep breath, I need to absorb the information, those words are all I have.

              -How's the tour going? And the preparation for the comeback?

              We talked for so long that I end up sleeping in the middle of the conversation, my body was so tired his voice was undoing every knot inside my head that kept me awake, his physical presence or not, excited me, made me feel good things, like light from a lighthouse in the middle of the rough sea.

              -Sol, I would like to say that no matter how hard you hug this pillow, it will not become the Seokjin - Sandy comments sitting on the end of my bed - Wake up sleeping beauty, the charming prince sent you a gift , in record time! Is he a real prince ? Why in less than twelve hours!

              -What's going on Sandy? - I sit on the bed still dizzy from waking up.

              -Seokjin sent the supplies we were in urgent need, in addition to making the situation publicized by the mainstream media, food arrives from all over the world! - She puts her hand in her pocket and pulls out an envelope - This is just for you!

-Thank you - I take the envelope, inside it has a polaroid photo of us, in our 3X4 apartment, wearing matching gray sweatshirts, my heart loses time, as always when I see it, on the back of the photo it is written:

              "Maybe you love me, but I sure love you, I can make it work!"

When (We love each other) 

              Two months later I did not return to Korea .... It had been a year since that and three months since Seokjin was summoned by the Korean army, which greatly reduced our calls and messages.

              I was unable to return to Seoul, the feeling of unfinished work dominated me every time I thought about it, little by little even in the midst of the declared civil war, I was able to maintain a supply of good food. We eradicated the miserable line between children, with the help of doctors and volunteer teachers even in difficult times and having to teach children how to act when there was a shooting in the middle of the class, we had evolved a lot since we arrived.

              Today the Korean, American and Brazilian peacekeeping fleets arrived with drinking water, food, books, notebooks and medical tools, the volunteer leaders including me went to pick them up at the helipad, the sun was so strong that we could n't even see the helicopter, but the noise announced their arrival, three of them, giants landed, when the soldiers went down we helped to get things out of there.

              I took the first box of rice, analyzed its condition, the expiration dates, everything was correct, secure in the side handles and pulled it towards me.

              -You can carry this alone? - Ask the Korean soldier behind me, for the kindness in his voice, I know that he does not intend to be sexist, he only really cares, after all, there were about twenty kilos of rice in that box, I lift it some more to show that I am fine with that weight. 

              -No need to worry, I'm used to it! - I say turning to show him, the box slips out of my hand as soon as I put my eyes on it.

              Seokjin smiles at me and my heart falls apart, he laughs at my expression, some tears were streaming down my cheeks, he was there, he had walked up to me, flown to be more specific , whatever, he was there! He walks over to me and hugs me.

              -I love you, are you listening? Only you, close your eyes, even if everything changes, it won't change! You are my love and I am your love - Humming in my ear, reference to Descendants of the Sun, one of my favorite dramas of all life, I try to keep control and not grab that man right there - Come on we need to keep doing our work but, what do you think of a date tonight?

              -Sure! - I answer more excitedly than I should, which makes him laugh again, I don't care, he was there, laughing for me that was all my brain can assimilate.

              I spent the whole day between doing chores and checking for Seokjin's presence, I spent more time at the army camp that day than in those almost two years of volunteering. Nothing in this world can compare to Seokjin's beauty now, nothing in the universe can compare to Seokjin in uniform! And that red cap on his head, it's so hard not to look at him! I hope he has taken so many photos, I want them all!

              At the end of the day he stops by to pick me up at the dorm, he was beautiful in jeans and a social T-shirt, smelling like only he can be, I can't even blink, it seems he can disappear at any moment, he praised my baby blue dress says that it matches his shirt, I almost reply that his mouth also matches mine, but I restrained myself to a simple thank you.

              -You know that blinking is healthy, right, Sol? - Says sitting in front of me at the restaurant table, I nod and keep looking, he picks up the menu - I will not disappear, love, you can rest assured, I will finally be able to stay by your side!

              -I don't want it to be a dream, if I blink, you can disappear, then I will realize that I'm crazy talking to myself in a beautiful restaurant! - I whisper to him, Seokjin holds my hand, the heat was real, he kisses her back, he was real.

              -I'm not going anywhere! Unless you decide that you don't want me anymore, that you don't want me a bit if you do, then I'll leave you alone! Those years were with an eternal night with no light, seeing you inside that helicopter was like watching the dawn, Sol - He intertwined our fingers - Can I hold this hand forever? I can do it right this time! All the roads in my life end in you Sol!

              I get up and walk over to the chair beside him, sit down and hug him to the side, he puts his arm around my shoulders and holds me against him, like he was warm, smelling, soft, what the hell are we doing in a restaurant anyway? I scoop my hand up to cover my mouth and approach him, who tilts his head.

              -I love you Kim Seokjin, let's do it right this time! - He smiles and kisses my forehead.

              Yes it would work that time.

When (We make it right)

              Fifteen years later

              "Kim Taeri, don't forget to take a snack to eat on the way to school! Every day, you will sleep late and miss school time, I'll take that phone off you, young lady!" - Scream from the kitchen, Yeojun laughs at the table finishing his coffee - You too, good guy, if I see another warning on my cell phone about bad behavior at school, I will sell your video game!

              -Omma! - I zip over my mouth, indicating that I don't want to hear anything else, he snorts and leaves the table to put his sneakers on.

              -I'll see you two later, straight home, no cheating on Secretary Han okay? - They do so even sulk with the scolding that I was given, I open my arms to a collective hug them, Seokjin appears and embraces the three together making us laugh - Have a good day my loves!

             They leave and my husband hugged me by the shoulders, I rest my head on his chest, enjoy those seconds before squeezing me into the restaurant kitchen until late at night, my performance was not so agile and I was not so physically fit, but I prefer to die to stop doing what I love, same thing with Seokjin, he still made films, soap operas met the boys to sing.

              -You do not 're being too hard on the twins? - One thing that you need to know in a relationship, to make it work is really literal, both sides need to strive to keep it working, if it would not collapse, like a sand castle, when the twins were born it was the most difficult time that we had, Seokjin and I had been created in very different ways and that generated a lot of conflicts, nobody warns about it.

              -If I am not, who will be Seokjin? You? - He hugs me tighter and kisses my shoulder, that was a dirty game - I would appreciate it if do the bad guy once, you know? I always have to be the villain of the story!

              -I was born to be a love prince, my face doesn't match that of a villain, no matter how much I've already played some! Beautiful by the way! - I turn to face him and slap his arm - Oh it's a joke, you look like a princess too! My princess! - I still give slaps but without putting force, then he holds me in a hug and kisses me for a long time, then I can only miss work today? Of course you can, you are your own boss, have you forgotten?

              I wrap my arms around the shoulders of Seokjin who picks me up, I wrap my legs around him, will we ever be like this one day? Probably, one day our bodies will not have the same disposition or beauty so only the essentials will remain, our love!

THE END

#seokjin x reader #seokjin fanfic #seokjin fic #kim seokjin #SEOKJIN DAY #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts seokjin #jin fanfic #jin fic #jin bts

[evengayerpanic]

The Nomon Trap [1 of 9]

In celebration of finishing my first fic, combined with the start of season seven of The 100, I’ve decided to branch out and write a little fic for one of my other truest loves, Clexa and their little family of Madi and Aden. This fic is going to be extremely AU, a little crack!fic-y and based off the movie, The Parent Trap.

I’ll repeat, this is NOT supposed to be a good or accurate representation of either The 100, Clarke and Lexa, Madi and Aden, or the movie The Parent Trap. It literally was written to give me a little break from heavier and more intense fanfiction ideas, so please take it with a grain of salt. It’s all AU and just for fun.

_______________________________________

The sun arose on the mountain-side Camp Weather. Dozens of young nightbloods ran around the camp grounds, packs of clothing and weapons were slung over shoulders, as the children ran group to group, trying to find their bunk assignments, their friends and anything that would make them feel at home.

As the camp counsellor father-son duo of Thelonious and Wells Jaha went into their opening speech, followed by Wells calling out bunk assignments, a young girl watched as her bright yellow pack was brought from the camp buses to a pile of other packs.

“Good, found my pack!” She exclaimed, pushing dark brown hair out of her eyes, reaching in to grab it before suddenly six other packs were dumped on top. “Great, now the only question is how to get it.”

A small laugh was heard beside her, the young girl turning to find a similarly aged boy standing beside her. “You must be new here.” He fixed her a smirk.

“How could you tell?” The girl groaned.

“You didn’t know enough to grab your pack before it joined the pile. I’m Jordan Jasper Green, it’s my third year at Camp Weather... and I think, you might need help getting that pack out.” He explained with a grin.

“Madi Griffin, and yes please.” Madi smiled, as the two of them grabbed a hold of her pack, and pulled.

It did not budge an inch.

As the two watched, confused on how to pull out the bag, they saw from across the pile as a girl with her hair in pigtails and a jeweled wire headband was able to grab her own pack with one hand effortlessly.

“Now that’s my kind of Nightblood.” Madi remarked.

Jordan nodded his head, cupping his hand to his mouth. “Diyoza! Can we get a little help over here!”

The girl looked up, smile on her face. “Sure!” She moved over to them with a smile. “I’m Hope.” 

“Madi. That yellow pack is mine.” She responded, watching in awe as the slightly older girl pulled it out quickly, handing it to her quickly. “Thanks!”

“Woah, you’re from the Ark?” Hope’s eyes went big, Jordan following suit as they hounded with questions.

“Did you guys really live in the sky?”

“Do you know A.L.I.E.?”

“Woah, woah, guys! I’ve never even met A.L.I.E. before! I live in Arkadia, it’s the camp that was made when the Ark fell? I never lived in the sky.” Madi smiled, throwing her arms up to stop more questions.

“That’s still so cool.” Hope murmured, Jordan nodding his head in agreement, before the sound of Wells Jaha calling Madi’s name had her ears perk up.

“Griffin. Madi?”

“Right here!”

“You’re in Skaikru!” He announced.

Jordan and Hope high-fived Madi with an excited shout of “That’s what we’re in too!” Before the three kids, cheered, and began marching off to their cabin.

_________________

As the three children clambered on, an expensive looking car pulled up to the main cabins, opening the door to reveal a well-dressed man in strong looking armour helping a young boy get out of the car.

The boy was also quite well-dressed, his own armour on prominent display as he turned to face the man.

“Well, here we are, Camp Weather... Are you sure about this Aden?” The man questioned, narrowing his eyes at the sight of the cabins and children around him. “We traveled all the way from Polis for this?”

Aden could only laugh, fixing the older man with a bright smile. “Lincoln, Camp Weather is supposed to be one of the best for training Nightbloods.”

Lincoln frowned as he glanced around at the accommodations around them. “Doesn’t look like it.”

“Besides...” Aden piped up, interrupting him. “Nomon went to Camp Weather when she was a bit younger.”

Lincoln bowed his head at his statement. “Speaking of your Nomon. She gave us a very specific list to check off once we got here.” He pulled out some paper, glancing it over quickly with a short grimace.

“Chainmail?”

“Check.”

“Gauntlets.”

“Check.”

“Swords and Shields.”

“Check, check.”

Lincoln stared at Aden with a quirk of his eyebrow.

“Check for Swords, check for Shields, go on.”

“Breast plate, medium helm, sketchbook drawings of your Nomon, Fleimkepa, War Chief and of course, your trusty Scout... me.” Lincoln read the rest.

“I think I’ve got just about all of it.” Aden smiled, looking back at the man who served as beloved scout, body guard and strong male influence to him.

Lincoln put his arm out, the young boy immediately dashing into it as the guard crushed him to his chest for a tight and emotional (to Lincoln) hug.

“I will miss you hainofa.” 

“Not as much as I’ll miss you, yontsleya.” 

Aden grabbed his bags from Lincoln, and then grabbed the older man’s forearm, the man immediately grabbing his in return, their heads bowing together to just a touch before Lincoln pulled back. “Alright, Aden... Go on. Just remember, if you want to come home, I can be back to get you quickly.”

Aden smiled. “I’ll be fine, I promise, maybe I can find someone here who also plays Karnöffel besides me?”

Lincoln let out a laugh, opening the door to the car and responding as he got in. “Maybe you can find someone who will kick your ass at it, hm?”

“I wouldn’t go that far!”

_________________

That night at dinner, Madi was in line for dinner with Jordan and Hope. The three were piling on the different pasta salads, and chicken skewers, and grilled vegetables when Thelonious Jaha got beside Madi to help himself to the tuna salad bowl.

“Oh, sorry there kiddo. Just had to get some tuna salad. Try some!” The camp owner exclaimed.

“No thank you, I’m allergic to tuna.” Madi replied, flashing him a smile before running off to her table.

With that, Thelonious turned to his other side. “How about you, would you like to try some tuna salad?”

Aden looked up from where he was piling hot dogs and some macaroni onto his plate, his friends Adria and Tris seemingly having disappeared to their table. “Oh, sorry, I can’t... I’m allergic, but thank you!”

Thelonious narrowed his eyes, staring for a second. “Weren’t you just... I’m sorry, you look very similar to a little girl that was just here.” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, as he turned to check behind him as well. “Do you have a sister or something?”

“I’m an only child, sir! Aden Woods, from Trikru!” The boy immediately stood in a salute, before grabbing his plate to go join his friends. “Good day, Sir!”

Thelonious shook his head for a moment before returning to the tuna salad, scooping another spoonful onto his plate before he murmured to himself. “Maybe I’m getting too old for this?”

“Pardon me, sir?” A voice broke out from his left, the older man turning to see the first girl with him again.

“Now wait a second, weren’t you just a boy from Trikru?” Thelonious’ mouth dropped open in disbelief.

Madi’s eyes widened. “A boy?! You’ve lost it, Mr. Jaha.”

Thelonious turned once more, away from the girl to check behind him for the boy and when he couldn’t see him, he turned back to Madi mid-sentence to say “Yes, I suppose I ha-” only to find that she had also left him as well and he was alone.

“Thelonious, you are losing it.” He murmured before scooping one last spoonful of tuna salad on his plate.

_________________

It wasn’t until the next morning that Madi Griffin and Aden Woods came face to face with each other.

It had been a rather uneventful morning; Madi, Jordan and Hope had been in swordplay all day with Madi kicking every challenger’s butt, being declared the victor over and over again to her delight.

Aden, Tris and Adria had decided to go for a canoe ride before their way back to the mess hall saw Wells Jaha declaring Madi Griffin the winner again, and asking if there were any more challengers for her.

“You should do it Aden!” Tris exclaimed, nudging him.

“Oh Aden, you’d totally kick her butt!” Adria agreed.

He shook his head with a laugh, turning down their offering. “Nomon taught me that the blade was only for killing, not playing.” He repeated solemnly.

“It’s like training, come on Aden!”

Throwing his hands up, the eleven year old boy lamented. “Okay! I’ll do it, I mean, Nomon never has a problem with training. It builds character!”

Moments later he was suited up properly, a full helm and chainmail on his frame as he was handed a blade.

The fight was a lengthy one; Adria, Hope, Jordan and Tris all cheering on their respective friends as the two danced across the battle ground, both showing a large amount of skill and strategy in their swings.

Every lunge that Madi made was effortlessly sidestepped by Aden, and every swing that Aden made was easily dodged by Madi. As Aden caught Madi’s blade with his, the girl quickly spun and he fell into a haystack, his blade getting caught for a moment as she quickly tried to land a thwack onto his armour only to fall short as he diverted backward. 

Catching his blade and pulling it free of it’s hold, Aden jumped to an upper deck of the battle ground, Madi leaping seconds later. The two played cat and mouse, twisting and turning to switch who was on the offensive and the defensive until Aden was backed into a corner. Madi lunged forward with an “Got you!” Aden dropped to the ground as Madi sent herself flying overtop the bannister and into a water trough.

“I am so sorry!” Aden immediately shouted, leaping forward to help Madi out of the trough, only for the girl to grab his forearm and drag him in after her.

As the cheers of the crowd died down, Wells Jaha pulled the two children out of the trough, holding Aden’s arm as the victor to the screams of his friends.

“Okay, you two, that was a great match. Shake hands!”

The two grumbled, pulling of their helms and dropping them with a gasp as steely eyes met steely eyes. The crowd of children around them went silent, watching as the two stared at each other in shock.

“Hayon!” Aden murmured, as Madi glared at him.

“What’s everyone looking at?” She said coldly.

Aden raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you see it?” At her blank look, he continued on, his heart racing in his chest. “We look just like each other! Same eyes, same jawline, same freckling and complexion.” 

Madi laughed, taking a step forward, her arms crossed over her chest. “You think that I look like you?”

The boy nodded, shrugging his shoulders, as his two friends joined in standing behind him supporting.

“You wish.” Madi practically growled. “My eyes are most crystal than yours, and my jaw... definitely more defined. You have far too many freckles, and as for your complexion?” She paused, as Jordan and Hope stood behind her as well, glaring at Adria and Tris. “You look like you’ve been in the sun too long, you’re blotchy.” She finally smirked.

Tris let out a hiss. “Want me to rearrange her face?”

Aden held out his hand, stopping her immediately. “I’ve got it... you’re right Madi, we could never be like each other. I mean the real difference, is that I know how to swordfight better than you... or maybe it’s the fact that I have honour and you don’t.”

With tension so thick you couldn’t cut it with a chainsaw, the two preteens glared daggers at each other as Wells held his hands out to stop their fight. “Come on guys let’s break it up... Aden, Madi... Madi, Aden... Woah, you do look really alike.”

#The 100 #fanfiction #fanfic idea #AU fanfiction #crackfic #Clexa #clarke griffin #commander lexa #lexa woods #aden #madi griffin #aden woods #The Nomon Trap #the parent trap au #dont take this seriously

[welllpthisishappening]

By City-Wide Decree

It's a crush.

And in any other situation, that would be it. He'd be able to keep going about his day in normal pining fashion. But nothing about this is normal. Because in the last few minutes Bellamy's complained about shredded cheese and Clarke's making jokes about Bleecker Street and apparently there's some city-wide rule about car services now.

Or: the last thing Bellamy Blake expected during a national health pandemic was being forced to kiss his neighbor.

----

Rating: Teen Word Count: Just over 5.6K AN: Hey there, internet. It was really only a matter of time until I wrote some kind of nonsense here. But I do want to say that this story does include COVID-19 stuff, so if that is not for you, I totally get it. That being said, this admittedly very silly nonsense, is very much just that and hopefully it offers a bit of a distraction for a few minutes. 

Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam

----

He almost drops the box of macaroni in his hand. 

The edge stabs his palm, a weird pain that's really more like the general sense of Bellamy’s frustration because just a few seconds ago he witnessed two grown adults glaring at each other over the final few rolls of toilet paper in aisle five. And there aren’t really that many other people in this grocery store, which he supposes is a good thing. Everyone taking social distancing seriously and staying home and he’s got every intention of doing the same, but first he’s got to deal with this. 

“Pre-shredded cheese,” he mumbles under his breath, glancing at the box. He’s bent the edge. He hopes he doesn’t break the box. There weren’t many left in that aisle, either. Just the one thing of shells Bellamy had been able to grab and four boxes of whole wheat linguine, which, really, almost offends him more than the idea of pre-shredded cheese. 

In a variety of flavors. 

And adjectives. 

“Cheese should not have adjectives attached to it,” Bellamy continues, and apparently he’s reached the crazy portion of his day. 

That also seems to be the standard for most of the world, though. He’d been very close to breaking up the toilet paper fight. So maybe he’s just catching up to everyone else. He needs to go home. He needs to—

“Pick a goddamn cheese,” he says. Whatever sound he makes at his own private conversation isn’t so much a sigh, but rather another round of frustration and possible resignation and taco-flavored cheese can’t be that bad. 

Right? Maybe. 

He can’t imagine what kind of preservatives are used in taco-flavored cheese. Like..are there even spices involved? There should be spices. When all of this is over he’s going to write a strongly worded letter to the Kraft family. 

Bellamy sighs again, drawing more than a few looks and a glare or too, and he’s going to give himself a headache if he keeps rolling his eyes at their current rate. He lunges forward, careful to account for the box of macaroni and the small thing of buttermilk that’s honestly starting to make his fingers go numb and—

An arm moves next to his. 

She’s also a little off-balance — a backpack that’s close to bursting and something that might actually be paint streaked across her left cheek, but Bellamy can barely register that when she’s already starting to stumble back, a package of margarine clutched in her hand. 

“Oh,” Clarke breathes, eyes going wide and what looks like the first hints of a smile tugging at the ends of her mouth. “Hey, Bell.”

His stomach flies into his throat. 

As per usual. 

That might be the most normal part of his day so far. 

To say that he’s been harboring a pretty monumental crush on Clarke Griffin since she moved into the apartment across the hall from Bellamy would be—

Accurate. 

It would be accurate, honestly.

In almost painful fashion. 

Six months ago, she showed up with a handful of boxes and paint on her jeans, and a smile that seemed to reverberate through him. In a way where that doesn’t sound insane. Maybe he wasn’t catching up to everyone else. Maybe he was just sprinting past them. Towards crazy. 

The kind of crazy that also means he’s stupid into his neighbor. 

She’d said hi first that day too. So he offered to help her carry some boxes and she’d promised she’d be ok, but he was stubborn and a little overwhelmed by the very specific color of her eyes and she really did have a lot of stuff and they’d ordered from the Thai place up the street after. 

And if that's not the basis for a pretty solid friendship, then Bellamy isn’t sure what is. 

Only that’s really all it is. Because, well—Bellamy isn’t sure. Octavia would say he’s being an idiot and to some extent that’s true, but he and Clarke are pretty good friends now and sometimes she curls up on the corner of his couch when she’s stressed about the arts budget of the high school she works at in the Bowery or he kicks on her door when he’s got some new pages he thinks she might like to read and it’s—

Good. 

Normal. 

In a world that is very quickly spiraling out of control. 

He hopes those people didn’t actually start yelling over toilet paper. He’s not sure his brain would be able to cope with that. 

“What are you doing here?” Clarke asks, taking another step back and he hadn’t noticed she’s got another bag of art supplies in her left hand. 

“Glaring at cheese.” “I’m sorry, what?” “Glaring at cheese,” Bellamy repeats. He nods towards the minimal selection, Clarke’s eyes widening at his admittedly petty reaction to the cheese issue. It should not be an issue. “I—well, I’m running low on some food and I—” He grits his teeth, suddenly hopeful that he’ll be able to melt into the supermarket floor. 

That’s probably not hygienic. 

“Is it super top secret, then?” Bellamy clicks his tongue. “No, it’s—ok, do you promise not to laugh?” “Absolutely not.” “You look like you staged a battle getting here.” “Nah,” she objects, but there’s a slight blush creeping across her cheeks and it’s probably wrong to feel some kind of victory at that. Just, like—with everything else going on. Flirting should probably be a low priority at this point. 

“Then…” “Why are you angry at the cheese?” “Mostly the selection of cheese,” Bellamy admits. “Because I’m supposed to use a very specific kind, so—” “—For what?” “My mom’s mac and cheese recipe.” She gapes at him. Which is not the reaction he was hoping for, really. He’s not sure what would be better, but he had been pretty partial to the blush and he’s positive this is somehow the paint streak’s fault. 

Clarke has a habit of getting paint everywhere. 

There’s still a stain on his floor from three weeks ago. 

“Did you think I was going to laugh at you making your mom’s mac and cheese recipe during an international health pandemic?” Clarke cries. It draws another round of curious stares and one set of incredibly narrow eyes from a woman with a cropped haircut and a cart practically overflowing with paper products. 

Clarke sneers. “I might actually fight someone for bulk-buying things. God, people are—” “—The worst?” “Is that why you’d thought I’d laugh at you being adorable?”

Bellamy forgets all about his stomach and its current location in his throat. He’s far more preoccupied with the matter of his exploding heart. Which is not nearly as painful an experience as he would have assumed. 

His smile threatens to take up most of his face, muscles unaccustomed to the movement when everything else seems to be going to shit. He hopes standing this long in the dairy aisle doesn’t adversely affect the buttermilk. 

That’s a key part of the recipe too. 

“Adorable, huh?” “Oh shut up,” Clarke grumbles, kicking her foot out of habit. She’s still a few feet away from him. That probably shouldn’t be disappointing either. In any situation, honestly. “Seriously, are you out here being weird about cheese because—” “—A quick detour out of adorable.” “Only because you keep interrupting me.”

He smiles wider. “When I was a kid, my mom used to make this mac and cheese for every major event. Birthdays, holidays, great grade on a test.” “Because you were a nerd?” “Look who’s interrupting the flow of the story.” “You should consider speeding up your approach” Clarke laughs. “The lady with forty-thousand paper napkins might come back and start pelting you with them for taking so long.” “You think she bought those paper napkins for reasons not related to eating food?” “God.” His shoulders shake a little when he chuckles — another threat to the pasta and his grip on any of the groceries he’s trying very hard to buy. “Moral of the story? I’m stressed out, people continue to be the worst, I saw a bunch of people, including actual grown adults, sitting out in Washington Square like nothing is wrong, so in an attempt to combat the general horribleness of the world I am going to make my mom’s mac and cheese recipe. Only apparently a lot of other people have had the same thought—” “—About your mom’s mac and cheese recipe?” 

“Bring the paper napkin lady back here so I can throw stuff at you.” Clarke grins, and the overall brightness of her eyes is probably just a byproduct of the lighting in the dairy aisle of Gristedes. Or so Bellamy will tell himself for the next forty-eight hours. 

“Taco cheese does not scream mac and cheese,” he continues. “But I’m also not willing to stage some sort of quest for the appropriate kind of cheddar. Or blocks of cheese.”

“It can’t be shredded cheese?” “Eh. I’m willing to make some sacrifices at this point.” “Wow,” Clarke drawls. “How gallant of you. And you wanted to make it yourself, then? No thoughts of take-out from Murray’s.”

“Don’t insult me like that.” “You have issues with a place that actually has cheese in its name?” “Murray’s Cheese Bar is an overpriced tourist trap that does not need my business to stay in business. I’m sure they’re perfectly fine.” “Murray himself?” “Or whatever corporate chain that place is owned and operated by. Plus, have you ever had their cheese plate? Like—just, it was gross. We got, maybe, half a dozen crackers.”

Clarke presses her lips together, but her laugh still manages to find its way into the six-feet of mandated space between her and Bellamy. “Did Octavia order the cheese plate at Murray’s once?” “And a bottle of chianti.” “Fancy.” “Gross,” Bellamy amends. “I can’t stand red wine.” “Why didn’t I know that you hated Murray’s so much? Do you feel that way about—” “—Most of the places on Bleecker?” Bellamy finishes, ignoring Clarke’s wide-eyed stare at yet another interruption. They have got to get out of this store. The processed air is obviously going to his head. Or, whatever. 

Maybe just the state of his heart. “Down with the establishment, huh?” Clarke quips. She absolutely, positively does not rock towards him. Bellamy is sure. 

He hums, and maybe his issue really lies in the overall state of his heart. Explosions cannot be healthy. In a biological sense. “Why are you here, then? I’m assuming it’s not just to share the very high opinions you’ve got about the restaurants on Bleecker.” “Ok, that is not what I said at all. I’m not advocating we start doing some kind of Bleecker restaurant crawl when this is all over, even if that one Gelato place on the corner is good.” “Tourist trap.” “Is the oxygen thinner on that high horse you’re riding?” Bellamy scrunches his nose when he makes a vaguely ridiculous noise in the back of his throat, part agreement, part unspoken suggestion to keep talking. “Whatever,” Clarke grumbles. “I am here because I needed butter to make cookies. But there’s only this garbage.” 

She brandishes the margarine, arm flung out in front of her and Bellamy refuses to be held accountable for whatever noise he makes at that. Just as ridiculous as the last one. With even more flirting involved. 

“I walked down here,” Clarke adds. “There are no other stores open and—” “—Walked from where?” Bellamy asks sharply. He doesn’t mean for the words to come out quite like that, but he’s also not entirely sure what feeling is shooting down either one of his arms. 

He’s very glad Octavia isn’t here. 

She’d make fun of him. 

More so than usual. 

“Relax,” Clarke mutters, jerking the bag at her side. “I needed stuff for class, but most of my supplies are still at school and it’s not like I can get into school any time soon, so I went up to Marmorino. Nyko agreed to open for, like, twenty minutes so I could get some new brushes and—” She shrugs, all nonchalance. Like walking twenty blocks to the art supply store in the middle of that previously discussed pandemic so she can keep teaching kids how to paint isn't equal parts absurd and wonderful.  “What are you going to paint?” Bellamy asks. “We’re doing life studies. Figured it’d be a good way to get parents involved too. You know, kids paint their mom or their dad or...whatever. Like I said, I just needed a brushes. And butter.”

“Those go hand in hand, huh? You know I have butter.”

Clarke blinks. And her grip on the bag noticeably loosens. “What?” “Butter,” he repeats. “That’s how this all started. I kept opening my fridge and the butter was sitting there, like it was taunting me and—”

“—Can the butter form coherent sentences?” “I’m offering you butter, princess. And mac and cheese. If you want it.”

Another blink. 

That’s...Bellamy doesn’t want to consider what that is. Because this is not the first time he’s done this. Or vice versa. Far from it. They both live alone and they’re friends and it’s not that far across the hall, after all. 

There’s just not usually an international health pandemic involved. 

“Yeah?” Clarke asks softly, like she’s waiting to shout surprise. Or throw paper napkins at them for standing in the dairy aisle for so long. 

Bellamy nods. “Yeah. That’s how humanity survives, right? We pool resources and seek out companionship in times of difficulty.” “Something like that, I’m sure.” “Ok, so you leave the gross margarine here and I’ll deal with the taco cheese.” “I have cheddar in my fridge.” Maybe this is a dream. Maybe the after-effects of his exploding heart have left Bellamy hallucinating in the middle of Gristedes. Maybe he got food poisoning from the cheese plate at Murray’s when Octavia visited three weeks ago and he’s only just now discovering it.

Clarke smiles. 

“If you want it,” she adds. “I—well, I’d had big plans for grilled cheese quarantines, but there was only block cheese at that point and I haven’t even opened it. Yours for the taking.” He nods slowly, trying to come to terms with all of this. It’s not flirting. No one flirts like this. They shouldn’t flirt like this. 

“Yeah,” Bellamy says. “That’d be great. A, uh—COVID team, huh?” Idiot. 

Idiot. 

He’s sure Octavia knows about this. Somehow. A sixth sense that alerts his younger sister to his overwhelming idiocy and she’d been annoyed that he hadn’t invited Clarke to Murray’s with them. 

“Something like that,” Clarke says again. “Ok, then let me pay for a car back home. I don’t know if my shoulders can cope with this backpack and—do not offer to carry this backpack for me,” she adds as soon as Bellamy opens his mouth, “I’ll get the paper napkin lady back here, I swear to God.” “She’d probably call a manager on you.”

Clarke scoffs, but her smile hasn’t changed and Bellamy spends most of the next twenty-four minutes standing in the checkout line thinking only about that. Until Clarke tells the guy in front of them to “stop being a dick” to the cashier when he starts complaining about the lack of bread in aisle two. 

The guy doesn’t say anything else after that. 

And the cashier definitely mumbles “thanks” when Bellamy puts his slightly bent box of pasta on the conveyor belt. 

They don’t spend long waiting for the car — and Bellamy can’t imagine business is exactly booming, which is part of the reason he agreed to this and the rest is entirely selfish and possibly a little stalker’ish and he just likes spending time with Clarke. No matter the world’s collective health situation. 

“You two together?” the driver asks, hardly opening the window and it’s not easy to understand what he’s saying.  

Bellamy furrows his brows. “Excuse me?” He swings open the door, sliding across the backset and moving his feet so Clarke’s backpack can fit comfortably between them. And he’s not one to pass judgement, particularly not now, but the whole thing looks a bit like something out of a post-apocalyptic movie. There are sheets of plastic wrap stretched between the front seats, the driver wearing gloves and casting impatient glances in his rearview mirror. 

Bellamy glances at Clarke’s phone — the driver’s name is Bryan. 

“C’mon man,” Bryan presses. “I need an answer.” “I don’t—” Bellamy starts, shaking his head and that dream theory is starting to make more and more sense. “What are you talking about?”

“The rules.” “Ok, that doesn’t clear it up. Can we just go?” “Nope. I need you to tell me. I don’t want my license revoked.” “What the hell are you talking about?” Clarke lets out a soft gasp, eyes going impossibly wide. “Shit. Are you kidding me?” “What part of nope are you guys having a difficult time wrapping your heads around?” Bryan asks. “Listen, I can’t break the law, ok? I—we’re living in crazy times and—” “—Seriously what are you talking about?” Bellamy snaps. 

Bryan takes a deep breath, shoulders moving with the effort, and Clarke hasn’t looked Bellamy’s direction in what feels like an eternity. He can’t rationalize the chill that slinks down his spine, a growing dread that threatens to tug him through the backseat or take up residence in between his ribs and he’s got to stop making so many sweeping biological assessments. 

There are no facts to back any of this up. 

And yet he can’t quite understand the look on Clarke’s face either, teeth digging into her lower lip while she refuses to meet his gaze. “Guys,” Bryan groans. “In or out, yes or not, just—prove it.” Bellamy opens his mouth again, ready to demand answers if need be, but Clarke is already talking and the words don’t process immediately — mandate from the mayor and I totally forgot and only real couples. 

She grits her teeth when she finally looks up, a pained expression that almost makes Bellamy shiver. It’s unnaturally warm in the city that afternoon. “Did you not see the press conference?” she mutters. He shakes his head. “I, uh—I totally forgot about it, but ride-share services are still cool and essential, they just...if you share, you have to be a couple.” “Real couple too,” Bryan adds. “That’s what the mayor said.” Clarke squeezes one eye shut. “He did, yeah.”

Bellamy has no idea what’s happening. That’s not hyperbole. He genuinely cannot keep up with the conversation or the events of the last few hours and he’s certain this is now somehow the fault of the paper napkin lady and those toilet paper people and— “So,” Bryan continues, “either prove it or lose it?” “Lose what, exactly?” Bellamy rasps. He doesn’t take his eyes off Clarke, can see just how tight her jaw has gone and the exact moment her tongue flashes between her lips and maybe it would just be better for everyone if he grabbed her backpack and sprinted the fifteen blocks back to their apartment. 

Apartment building. 

They don’t live in the same apartment. 

Seriously, screw the toilet paper people. 

“My services,” Bryan answers. “Seriously. I’m not getting fucked over by this. So prove you're a real couple or start walking.” “And how would you like us to do that, exactly?” “Kiss her.” It is several different miracles that Bellamy does not rip down Bryan’s plastic wrap wall right then and there. He considers it, fingers flexing and head at a sudden angle while he glares at the rearview mirror. But something keeps him from actually reacting and it might be Clarke’s soft ok a few inches away. 

They are no longer the appropriate six feet apart. 

“Wait, what?” Bellamy asks, only marginally disappointed when his voice manages to crack over both words. 

Clarke’s smile doesn’t waver, but it shifts slightly — a little cautious and a little nervous and, maybe, a little hopeful. She leans forward, ignoring the goddamn backpack and how straight Bellamy’s spine has gone, breathing quickly like he did run those fifteen blocks. “Just a kiss, right?” she mutters. “Couples kiss. That’s—” “—Real couples,” Bryan amends. Bellamy might strangle Bryan before they get out of this car. 

“Right, right, right. And that’s—it’s not a big deal.” Bellamy’s never going to blink again. 

“I don’t know how else to double check,” Bryan admits. 

Clarke hums, still moving and Bellamy doesn’t flinch when her hand lands on his bent knee. So, points or whatever. Her tongue flashes once more, a soft huff of air that barely reaches his cheek when she’s close enough and this can’t possibly be sanitary. 

God, he does not want to be thinking about that now. 

Bellamy doesn’t remember bending his neck, but it appears to have happened anyway, curls threatening to fall in his eyes. That’s not right. The top of Clarke’s backpack digs into his chest, what feels like an actual paint brush pushing against the side and he’s going to say something. He is. He’s going to promise that he can walk and he’ll carry the backpack and just meet her at home, but none of the words seem all that interested in coming out of his mouth and his lips pop softly when they part, another bit of movement and a direct violation of social distancing and—

His eyes flutter shut when Clarke kisses him. 

With Bryan watching intently. 

And it’s not...well, it’s not quite the way Bellamy had always imagined when he’d let himself imagine this. Far more often than he should. It’s stilted and awkward, weird angles and bumped noses. It’s chins jostling for position and that fucking backpack, both of them far too aware of the two bags of groceries at their feet. 

Bellamy does his best not to actually sigh — even more frustration, that does not belong in a situation like this, but then his eyes open and the tip of Clarke’s tongue finds his lips and everything kind of spirals after that. 

His hand flies up, curling into her hair and pulling her closer, a crunch that is absolutely the box of shells, but the shells can go fuck off for all Bellamy cares. He opens his mouth, lets his head tilt slightly until they find a rhythm that’s a bit like driving at seventy miles an hour on an open highway. That’d be impossible anywhere in New York. 

Even under quarantine. 

And yet. Bellamy feels like he’s rushing towards something, everything and anything and a variety of words that should be far more overwhelming than they are. He nips at Clarke’s lower lip, lets his nose drag along her cheek until he’s practically tracing that streak of paint and the sound that draws will be branded on every inch of him for the foreseeable future. They only break apart to catch their breath, the rhythm going almost desperate when Clarke’s nails scratch at the back of Bellamy’s neck and—

Bryan coughs. 

He might not tip Bryan. 

No, he’ll definitely tip Bryan. It’s a fucking pandemic. 

Bellamy’s not a total dick. 

Just…

“So, uh, cool,” Bryan says, already pulling out onto the street. “Thanks for the, uh—for the demonstration, then.” Clarke jerks back. 

And Bellamy feels like he’s been thrown in the East River. Specifically. Because that river is notoriously grosser than the Hudson. 

He’s gross. 

He twists, trying to put as much space between them as possible when they’re still in Bryan’s silver Toyota Camry. And he doesn’t actually count the minutes that it takes to get back to their building, but it’s awfully close because it seems to take a lifetime and happen far too soon, Clarke mumbling her thanks and hoping Bryan doesn’t have to drive too much in the future and Bellamy doesn’t want to think about the state of that box of shells. 

It feels far too literal. 

And they don’t rush up the stairs, both Bellamy and Clarke taking even steps as they do their mutual and collective best to stare at their shoes. But then he’s tugging his keys out of his back pocket and the air feels like it’s crackling around him, enough tension to power the island of Manhattan — especially when Clarke follows him inside his apartment.

“So, uh—” she starts, a click of her jaw when she notices the look on Bellamy’s face. 

His eyes have started to water, they’re so wide, standing in the middle of his exceptionally tiny living room. “Clarke, I—” “—Oh shit, I forgot the butter.” “Clarke.” “No, no, I should go get the butter, right? Yeah. That’s—shit, I didn’t even think. I...sorry, sorry, it’s—” She shakes her head brusquely, like she’s trying to shake away the awkwardness and Bellamy wishes there weren’t any awkwardness. He wishes he’d asked her out before the world started falling apart. 

He’s back in her space in a few more steps, fingers finding her flailing hands. She’s biting her lip again. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.” “No?” “Absolutely not,” Bellamy promises. “I might, though. I just—I didn’t realize what was going on and then—” “I’m going to go get the butter,” Clarke announces, sounding almost disappointed at the idea. She pulls her hands back, a quick hiss of pain when she manages to elbow herself in the side in the process, all but running out of his apartment. Her backpack is still on his couch. 

Bellamy doesn’t move. He’s not sure he can, honestly. His legs feel like they’ve locked themselves in place, waiting with those same wide eyes for something he’s not sure he can have because it can’t possibly happen like this and Octavia is probably hysterical on the other side of the country. 

And he’s still not counting seconds or minutes, when he finally manages to get his feet to cooperate. So he can wash his hands. Like a responsible adult. Not one who hoards paper products. 

The footsteps that return to his still-open door a little slower than usual. 

“You didn’t close your door,” Clarke points out. She kicks back, a tremulous smile and Bellamy can’t believe this is going to happen while she’s holding butter. And at least two pounds of flour. He’s not sure what’s going to happen, exactly. “Did you even turn your oven on?” He shakes his head. “No.” “Real fond of that word all of a sudden, aren’t you?”

Bellamy doesn’t think he imagines the edge in her voice, narrowing his eyes slightly like that will help him pick up on certain conversational cues. It doesn’t — especially when Clarke breezes by him, marching into her kitchen like it’s hers or could be hers and that’s probably when he decides. What he wants to happen. “Do you want to make the cookies or the mac and cheese first?” she asks, and that question sounds more determined than any Bellamy’s heard before. Some of the tension in his shoulders disappears.

“Hey, will you talk to me?” 

“About something other than our cooking order?” “Yeah,” Bellamy nods. “Definitely about something other than our cooking order.” “I’m really hungry, though.”

His laugh has a certain strangled quality to it, but that may be a product of his heart, recently reformed and re-exploded. As soon as Bellamy realized what kissing Clarke was like. “I’m not going to let you starve,” Bellamy says. “Just—c’mon, look at me at least.”

She doesn’t. She pushes up on her toes instead, stabbing at the buttons on his oven. Bellamy sighs, doing his best not to start proclaiming things, giving voice to the sentiment that’s been bouncing around his soul for the better part of the last six months, and the flour that’s sitting on his minimal counter space is half open. 

The top’s rolling up, a haphazard curl to the paper, which only makes it easier to reach his hand inside without Clarke noticing. 

And immediately flick his fingers in Clarke’s direction. 

Her eyes flash, mouth dropping open, but Bellamy just grins, another flick that leaves flour clinging to Clarke’s cheek and the ends of her hair and she’d never washed that paint streak off. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demands. 

“Got you to look at me.” “Are you kidding me right now?”

“Am I laughing?”

Clarke groans, trying to shake the flour off. All it does is ensure her hair shifts and the smell of her shampoo takes over most of the air in his kitchen. “You’re an idiot,” she sneers, “that’s what you are. I’m trying to feed us and—” “—You’re really very concerned about that. We’ve got to reorganize this conversation.”

Bellamy needs to get more flour before he can go for the third flick, but that proves to be his undoing. Clarke moves before he can, reflexes that he’d like to have a very serious discussion about eventually and she doesn’t flick. She slams her hand into his chest, a perfectly formed print in the middle of his shirt, twisting the fabric under her like that will make sure the mark stays there. 

Things are starting to feel a little literal again. 

At least he hopes so. 

So, it’s only reasonable and passably romantic to retaliate in kind — letting his flour-covered fingers flutter over Clarke’s hair and one of them gasps, but it’s difficult to figure out when they’re as close as they are, her hands dragging across his side and dangerously close to the top of his jeans and Bellamy’s definitely the one who groans when Clarke works her way under the hem of his shirt. 

Clarke beams. Bright and honest and her eyes are blue enough that Bellamy briefly considers getting lost in them for those minutes he’s still refusing to count, but then—

“God, I can’t believe I had to use some stupid marshall law bullshit to kiss you,” he mutters. 

“Is marshall law the right term there?” “No, not at all.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, hand staying exactly where it is. “I didn’t think so. And I—this was not some elaborate ruse, just for the record.” “Were you looking for elaborate ruses to make out with me?” “We’ve got to work on your vocabulary. Make out doesn’t seem right either.” “A work in progress.” “For the words, or…” She gasps again. Presumably because Bellamy’s ducking his head and his arm has curled around her middle and it’s easier to kiss her when there isn’t a backpack between them. Bellamy’s hand flattens against the small of Clarke’s back, a curve there that is quite suddenly the only thing he’d like to talk about for the remainder of the day. 

And they’re just as good at this as they were in Bryan’s car, but there’s something inherently different about the second go-around. An ease to the angles and the now-familiar rhythm, like they’d simply been waiting for the chance or the opportunity and—

“Maybe make out was an acceptable description,” Clarke mumbles against Bellamy’s mouth. He grins, dropping down so he can kiss her jaw and the side of her neck, only a little pleased with the goosebumps he notices there. “Oh, don’t get smug,” Clarke adds, “that’s not a good look on you.” “That certainly sounds like you’ve got opinions on my looks, actually.”

She clicks her tongue, leaning back to get in his eye line. “Maybe a few.” “A few?” “Bell, c’mon, that’s—” “—I have a very big crush on you.” Clarke blinks. Opens her mouth only to close it. Smiles. Scoffs. Blinks again. And then she’s kissing him and it’s good and great and both of those things feel wrong during a pandemic, but Bellamy assumes there's something to be said for the human spirit. Or whatever. 

“Makes for a good story, though,” Clarke says, eyes gone a color Bellamy’s never seen before. “You know, if you’re looking for something to write about.” “You want me to write about us? I write history books.” “Is this not historic?” “Oh, now who’s fishing for compliments,” Bellamy chuckles. Clarke blushes. Again, or still. “I would have liked to kiss you under less dramatic circumstances, but, uh—it also wasn’t the worst first kiss I’ve ever had.” “High praise.” “We’re very good at kissing each other.” “Yeah, I figured we would be.” “Did you just?” Clarke hums. “I’m pretty sure my friends had some kind of pool going. Especially now. When I’d finally give in and just like...attack you with my mouth or something. I talk about you all the time. At school. To Raven. Strangers on the street.” “Strangers on the street?” “I mean, Bryan assumed we were a couple.” “That’s because the mayor required him too,” Bellamy argues. “But, uh—I get the opinionated peanut gallery. O was convinced we were secretly dating when she was here.” “Before or after the chianti?” “Well before.” “Oh,” Clarke says, like that’s somehow surprising or good. Bellamy hopes it’s good. He’d like some good at this point. “You should probably change shirts.” “That sounds like a suggestion to take my shirt off.” “Wow, weird.” Her laugh turns into something far closer to a giggle when he kisses behind her ear, a fact he’s already stored for future reference, but then they’re moving and there are discarded clothes and kicked off shoes and neither one of them bothers to get up when the oven finishes pre-heating. 

“I have a crush on you too,” Clarke says, head propped up on her hand. In Bellamy’s bed. They’re in Bellamy’s bed. 

Her backpack is still on his couch. “Good,” he grins. “You want to eat, or…” “God, I’d thought you’d never ask.” And they do make both things, Clarke announcing that this is the best mac and cheese I’ve ever had while Bellamy does an absolutely terrible job of stealing cookie batter on the sly. She moves her backpack eventually too — into the corner of his living room. It’s easier that way, something about pandemics and limiting movement and if one of her students notices the change of scenery during their live-streamed class two days later, none of them say anything. 

#bellarke ff #bellarke fan fiction #bellarke #bellamy x clarke #the 100 #covidー19 #this is very silly nonsense #like...i cannot possibly overstate that