#brown striped armchairs

[urbanscenarios]

Phoenix Open Living Room

[foxyou-too]

Muller-Van-Severen

[yoncchi]

Transitional Living Room

[shiroweenie]

Living Room (San Francisco)

[violetdiary]

Traditional Living Room (Atlanta)

[golshiftehnews]

London Living Room Library

[shannonofrp]

DC Metro Family Room Open

[ladykailitha]

Not All That Glitters is Gold Part 12

Well, this story is complete. I finished it on Friday and will be fully uploaded in two weeks. With chapters 14/15 next week on the 31st and 16/17 on April 7th.

This has been one hell of a ride. I never thought I would ever do omegaverse. But this one just demanded to be written.

TAG LIST FOR THIS STORY IS CLOSED

Eddie takes Steve shopping and they go the Grammy's.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @redfreckledwolf @emly03 @itsall-taken

****

Steve loved shopping. It was his favorite thing in the world. He especially loved it when he went with Chrissy or Robin or sometimes even both. But he was finding out that shopping with Eddie was special.

“I’m going to rock your world, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured when they entered the shop.

It was all high end, naturally. But it was the type of stuff Steve would have bought for himself back in high school.

“Eddie...” he whined a little.

It was sweet, it really was. But he couldn’t wear the ‘uniform’ of a omega housewife. Not anymore.

“Just wait, darlin’,” Eddie whispered, “it’s gonna be good.”

Just then a man came over. He was short, barely 5’5”. He had warm brown skin and silver hair.

“Hello, loves,” he said, voice as warm as his skin tone. His accent was the vaguely British of someone who had lived in the United States for a long time.

“Hello,” Eddie greeted, kissing him on each cheek. “Steve, this is Raj. Raj, this is Steve Harrington, he’s a Starcourt omega.”

Raj clasped his hands together. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Steve.”

Eddie turned to Steve. “Raj is a professional stylist. He’s dressed me for many an event and he’s going to help you find your style.”

Steve smiled at him. Because of course Eddie was only trying to help and not make him feel inferior about liking a style that he couldn’t wear.

“Come on, love,” Raj said, “tell me what you like.”

And so Steve did just that.

They spent the afternoon trying on several different combinations and styles that Steve felt like he was a runway model to the crowd of one.

Eddie sat on a big, white, overstuffed armchair and made comments on everything Steve tried on.

Three hours later, Steve was walking out of the store in a navy blue striped polo and tight fitted jeans and several bags filled with clothes of a similar style.

Steve laughed when he exited the shop, twirling around with his bags. Just so happy.

Xander took the bags from Steve and put them in the trunk of the car to keep the bags from going flying.

Eddie pulled him in for a kiss.

“God, you are so gorgeous when you’re happy,” he murmured into Steve’s neck.

Steve hummed. “Well, it’s a good thing that the thing that makes me happiest is you, huh?”

Eddie looked up at him with a tender smile. “Back attcha, big boy.”

Steve wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.

“Will I get to see you before the Grammy’s on Sunday?” he asked, softly.

Eddie sighed. “Unfortunately not. I have so many interviews and shit that I just won’t have time.”

“That’s okay. I still have other work I’ve got scheduled this week.”

Eddie kissed him deeply. “You have fun, babe and I’ll see you on Sunday.”

“Bye.”

Eddie watched as the car pulled away from the curb. He had gotten to meet both Robin and Xander, the two people tasked with keeping Steve safe and he found that he loved them both.

And that fact settled one of the worries in his chest about Steve, knowing that his boy was being looked after properly when he wasn’t around.

****

“Troy’s coming,” Robin said, “I’m not asking, I’m telling you.”

Steve glared at her. “He’s creepy.”

“He’s really not,” she defended. “He’s very protective of the omegas in his care and I need a second pair of eyes on you tonight.”

“I don’t see why,” Steve said rolling his eyes. “I’ve done hundreds of events with only one handler in the past. What makes tonight so special?”

“The press.”

Steve huffed. “I literally when to an event for the press with Nancy, how is this any different?”

“Because these aren’t the civilized press, Steve,” Robin said menacingly. “These are the vultures. The bottom of the barrel. Sleazy, gasping, horrible people who will judge you, seek to tear you down, and humiliate you.”

Steve let out a long sigh. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” She kissed his cheek. “Eddie has his own security, but they’ve been coordinating with Troy and me all week. What’s your signal for needing to get out quick?”

“Moving my clutch from my left hand to my right,” he said.

She nodded. That was a good signal. Steve liked his right hand free to shake hands with people.

“What’s your signal if you need to get away from the alpha?” she asked next.

“I take out my earrings,” he dutifully replied.

Again, not something Steve would normally do, so she nodded.

“The code word to get both of you away from someone who is harassing one or both of you is ‘caveat’.”

“As in ‘one of the caveats for dating an escort is to be understanding when something work related comes up’?”

Robin grinned. “Perfect. All right, we’re good to go.”

Steve grabbed his black clutch and matching shawl. It was February in California, but it was still February.

He draped the shawl over his shoulders and walked out to the car.

Troy and Robin got into a white SUV with Troy at the wheel.

Steve slid into his car to find a waiting Eddie.

“Well this is a surprise,” he cooed, sliding up to press himself against his boyfriend’s side.

Eddie chuckled, lifting his arm to wrap around his shoulders. “Benefits of properly courting you, darlin’. Management is letting me know where you live. Ish.”

“Ish?” Steve asked, scenting along Eddie’s jaw.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “The windows were tinted so I don’t know exactly where we are, but I know enough.”

“Ah.”

Yeah, that made sense.

“You look so pretty, baby,” Eddie said, changing the topic. “You look good enough to eat.”

Steve chuckled. “So do you.”

And he did. He was wearing a black suit coat with black rhinestones embroidered into the lapels, with a white button up shirt that decidedly not, tucked into a pair of black slacks. On his neck were several necklaces and chains and his wrists were covered in bangles and more chains.

He had a single earring in his left ear which was an upside down cross.

Steve was enraptured.

“This is all for you, baby doll,” Eddie murmured into Steve’s ear. “I rarely dress up for these things, but I wanted to look good for you.” His hand reached around to cup Steve’s ass. “Especially with you looking like sex on legs in that short dress.”

Steve chuckled. “You keep this up and we’re going end up torturing poor Xander’s ears by having sex back here.”

Eddie’s eyes blew wide. “Shit Stevie, if we didn’t have to be there at a specific time, I would absolutely hold you to that.” And he pulled Steve even closer to him so that the omega could feel the reaction to his words.

Steve couldn’t stop himself from scenting Eddie again.

“Did I tell you that thing the attracted me to you second to you being the sweetest thing,” he murmured, “was your scent?”

Eddie licked his lips. “Right back ya. Together we smell of Christmas.”

Steve giggled. “A little bit, yeah.”

Xander caught Steve’s eye in the rearview mirror and raised his eyebrow causing the omega to blush, ducking his head shyly.

Xander knew something that Robin didn’t as she couldn’t be in the car with him for things like this.

Despite a Starcourt escorts’ reputation for being sex pots, sex wasn’t allowed in the back of the car. Mainly because of the driver, but also because what they did was meant to be higher than just make outs in the back of a car.

It wasn’t a rule, like not giving out their personal number was a rule, but it was a guideline that Steve had adhered to almost religiously. So for him to even suggest jumping Eddie was completely out of character for him.

Eddie raised Steve’s head gently with his forefinger. “You look so pretty when you blush, baby, but there is nothing going on here that you need to be ashamed of, okay?”

Steve nodded.

Just then the car rolled to a stop, signaling that they had arrived at the red carpet.

Behind them Troy and Robin stepped out with Eddie’s two security members. All of them dressed in black suits and ties with pristine white button up shirts.

All of them pulled out their sunglasses and slid them on. Troy walked up to the door and opened it.

Eddie slid out first, waving to the crowd. Then he turned around and helped Steve get out of the car. Steve waved, too, then slipped his hand around Eddie’s arm.

“The first interview is with Vanity Fair, Kayla Brosnahan,” Troy murmured to them. “She’s very fashion orientated so she’ll ask about your clothes first.”

Steve nodded. He glanced at Eddie, who nodded.

They walked up to the beautiful alpha reporter in a long, slinky, red dress.

“Kayla, Vanity Fair,” she said to the cameraman, “here with Eddie Munson, frontman of Corroded Coffin who is up for three awards tonight, and Starcourt escort, Steve Harrington.”

She turned to them. “Wow! You two look absolutely stunning together. Who designed your clothes tonight?”

Steve smiled. “Omega designer, Lola Martinez and the jewelry is by St Giovanni.”

“Wow,” she breathed. “Those are some pretty big names. And how about you, Eddie? Who are you wearing tonight?”

“Jimmy Pantera.”

Jimmy was a known alternative style fashion designer. Chains, leather, denim, studs; basically the metal and grunge scene. What Eddie as wearing would have been very conservative for his collection.

“Very nice,” Kayla said. “I can see it now. Wow.” She turned to Steve. “Have you had any clients cancel on you because you’re being courted?”

Eddie bristled and was about to lay into her when Steve touched his elbow.

Steve batted his eyelashes with a simpering pout. “Oh, Kayla, you know all client information is confidential.” Kayla opened her mouth to say something snide, but Steve beat her to it. “Plus, I don’t kiss and tell. Not like a certain omega who’s been warming your bed.”

Suddenly she was sputtering and back tracking. “Eddie, you’re up for three awards tonight, what are your hopes for tonight?”

“Corroded Coffin and I are very happy to have been nominated for Best Metal Album, Album of the Year, and Single of the Year for ‘Hell’s Lookin’ Better Than Heaven’, but we were disappointed we weren’t nominated for more. Best Metal Performance is a prime example. Even though we made more money then any other touring band last year, we weren’t even considered.”

Again Kayla was forced to back track and try to start over but they had chosen that moment to move on. Kayla turned to her camera and made a slicing motion across her throat to tell him to stop taping.

All the interviews kept in the same vein. They would be chatty, ask about what they were wearing or who they were most excited to see perform and then drop shit like:

“Are you going to make Steve stop escorting once finish your courtship?”

To which Eddie replied, “I’m not so fragile that I need constant validation that my dick is big enough. Stevie is his own person and if he wants to keep working, why would I stop him?”

Followed by back pedaling and Steve and Eddie moving on.

Next asshole:

“Steve, are you angling for a bond to get out of being an escort?”

Steve and Eddie just blinked at him like he was too stupid for words. They just walked off.

Once Troy just moved them past an interviewer calling their name.

Steve looked down and a little behind him. “What was wrong with that one?”

“He’s been sexually harassing omegas that come through,” Troy muttered back. “Making lewd comments, making passes at them, touching them without their consent.”

Steve nodded and Eddie put a protective hand on his lower back. They made it through the gauntlet and into the Radio Music Hall.

They sat down at the table that already had the rest of the band and their plus ones and settled into enjoy the show.

****

Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369

​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi

@val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

@justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten

@vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @y4r3luv @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @irregular-child @nburkhardt @apomaro-mellow

@yellowdevilkitten @eyehartart @mangoinacan13 @demolvr @ellietheasexylibrarian

@rememberthatiloveyou @slowandsteddie @r0binscript @alyelf @melodymeddler

@mogami13 @annabanannabeth @disrespectedgoatman @manda-panda-monium @maya-custodios-dionach

[biteofcherry]

Ransom + bondage please?

Your arms were stretched above your head; your wrists locked in brown leather cuffs. Your fingers wiggled, helplessly trying to seek support.

Wide, leather cuffs were buckled around your ankles, as well. A shiny spreader bar keeping your legs apart.

Ransom had you bound and displayed in front of him, while he sat in a comfortable armchair, sinking his full weight onto buttersoft cushions like the lord and master he felt himself to be.

"You look good in my cuffs," his gaze raked over every inch of your exposed body.

"Though there's something imperfect yet." A small frown marred Ransom's forehead as he studied you.

He stood up and picked up a glass of whiskey, before approaching you in slow, measured steps.

He lifted the glass to his lips, while trailing his other hand up your bare side. Hooking his index finger into the black lace of your bralette, he pulled it down, until your nipple was exposed. He repeated the same with your other breast.

Your nipples were already stiff, but under Ransom's heated gaze they tightened more.

Still, Ransom's pretty face displayed discontent.

He took a sip of his drink then stepped back. His eyes focused on your hardened peaks and sudden spark lightened his blue eyes.

When he took another gulp of whiskey, you saw the curve of a smirk over the rim of his glass.

He returned to the big pool table, setting his glass on the pristine, classic green felt. There was a black box set on it; one from which Ransom took out the custom made cuffs.

Your heart rate picked up as you saw his slender fingers pick up a mesh of leather stripes with gold rings.

Something told you there were more parts in the set.

When Ransom returned to you, he first unclasped your bra (straps, too) and eased it off your chest. Then you felt the soft caress of leather around your throat; a cool lightness of metal ring setting in the hollow right below your neck.

More stripes were weaved around your breasts, small buckles being pulled closed on your back. The stripes were attached to three more rings. One landing between your breasts. The other two...

Right over your nipples.

Metal rings pressed gently into your skin, framing your hardened nipples and drawing attention to them.

"Perfect." Ransom's satisfied smile broadened when he flicked one of your buds with his thumb and you arched, gasping.

Ransom Drysdale Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[barrydeutsch]

Things We Can Stop Saying To Fat People Already

Help us keep making cartoons! I make a living mostly from a whole bunch of people pledging $1 or $2, and I really like that a lot. http://patreon.com/barry More about this cartoon at https://www.patreon.com/posts/things-we-can-to-75293817

TRANSCRIPT OF CARTOON

This cartoon has nine panels. The central panel (panel five) has the words "THINGS WE CAN STOP SAYING TO FAT PEOPLE ALREADY" written in large, friendly, somewhat psychedelic-style lettering.

Other than the center panel, each panel features a different scene showing one or two characters speaking.

In addition to the nine panels, there's a small additional "kicker" panel under the bottom of the comic strip.

PANEL 1

A thin woman stands outdoors, wearing a plush winter vest over a plaid shirt, with a knit hat. She's smiling too large and clasping her hands together in front of her chin. Behind her we can see pine trees on a snow-covered hill.

WOMAN: You're not fat! You're gorgeous!

PANEL 2

On a sidewalk in front of a storefront, a man in green pants and a polo shirt looks very surprised, eyes wide, one hand against his cheek. He's speaking to a fat woman with a rolled-up yoga mat strapped over her back, and a gym bag; she's wearing athletic shorts and a tank top. She looks somewhat taken aback.

MAN: You do yoga?

PANEL 3

A woman stands in a kitchen, looking at the reader with a face full of concern, her forefinger pressed against her chin.

WOMAN: Are you sure you should eat that?

PANEL 4

A man stands in front of a shoulder-high brick wall. There's a grassy area, the height of the wall, on the other side of the wall; there are bushes and trees and a wide-eyed dog. The man is holding a hand up in a "no big deal" gesture and looks certain.

MAN: My cousin's friend's wife's barista lost 200 pounds by drinking one less coke a day.

PANEL 5

This is the center panel. It contains the title of the strip, "THINGS WE CAN STOP SAYING TO FAT PEOPLE ALREADY," written in large, friendly letters.

PANEL 6

In a supermarket, a thin, older woman is pushing her cart next to the the cart of a fat man wearing a baseball cap. The woman  is leaning over to examine the contents of the man's cart. (Sharp-eyed readers might notice that the two carts contain exactly the same food items.)

The woman is smiling, the man looks taken aback.

WOMAN: Well, that explains things.

PANEL 7

Two men, one thin and one fat, are jogging next to each other on a suburban looking sidewalk. The fat man, who has a shaved head, is wearing two layers of shirt (a black tee shirt over a mustard-brown long-sleeved tee shirt) and sweatpants. The thin man is wearing running shorts and a striped tee shirt. The thin man's expression  is surprised and maybe a little hostile; the fat man's expression is annoyed.

THIN MAN: You're not trying to lose weight? Really?

PANEL 8

In the foreground, we see a fat woman riding a bike and looking annoyed. Nearby, in the street, a driver is leaning out of his car window to yell at the woman. His expression is hostile.

MAN:  You're FAT!

A small caption at the bottom of the panel says "this really happens!" (And it does! It's happened to me numerous times! I have no idea why people are like this.)

PANEL 9

A thin man is holding out his palms and speaking directly to the reader, looking puzzled and concerned. He appears to be in a den or living room - we can see a little table with a tea cup and flowers, and a comfy looking armchair, in the background. The man is wearing a button-up shirt with a polka dot pattern open over a black tee shirt.

MAN: Have you heard of eating less and exercising more?

SMALL KICKER PANEL UNDER THE BOTTOM OF THE CARTOON

A thin man wearing a black shirt is talking to a fat man with a beard and a pony-tail who looks like Barry (the cartoonist). Both of them have friendly, smiling expressions.

THIN MAN: I'm sure they didn't mean anything. You're being too sensitive.

BARRY: You can stop saying that, too.

[emhasthoughts]

Gertrude and the cat-avatars, pt 3

Summary: A cat with a strange pattern show up that Gertrude can never even think about getting back out. Agnes decides to bring a friend. Mike makes a friend.

A/N: Thanks @dcartcorner and the chatter in the stream that helped me decide on what type of cat Jude would be.

Not beta read, just me, my document and thoughts

Pt 1, Simon, Peter, Elias and Mike / Pt 2, Michael and Helen Distortion, Agnes / Pt 3, You're here! / Pt 4, John, Jane, Maxwell, Manuela / Pt 5, Jon, Martin, Sasha, Tim / Pt 6, Melanie, Daisy, Basira, Georgie / Pt 7, Jared, Gerry, Nikola / Bonus, a visit to the vet / Halloween bonus!

Gertrude rarely thought of getting rid of Annabelle. She was rather sure the cat had something to do with it. Annabelle had wandered into her home and fallen asleep on the armchair. At first glance she would seem like any ordinary cat, dark brown with grey stripes on the stomach and up to the back, though most of the left side was left stripeless. However, as Gertrude looked closer, she realised it was not just an ordinary pattern. In fact, some were way too straight and it all connected in a way that was not natural, as if someone had decided to take some paint and make a bleach-blonde pattern. As Gertrude looked closer she realised what it looked like. A spiderweb. 

Gertrude had named her Annabelle without too much of a second thought. Let her sleep on the sofa that night. Though as she laid awake at night she could not fully tell why she had done any of it. She had no interest in another cat and usually it had taken more than a few hours to decide on a name. Annabelle seemed very happy to just be inside. Though the times she did go outside she would always bring in living spiders that she got protective over. Gertrude was not sure why she let Annabelle live there.

Agnes came by at least once a day for an entire week alone. Getting more and more confident as time went on. Until one day she showed up with a cat next to her. A sphynx cat nearly ginger looking with some form of black mark on one of the legs. Though something told Gertrude that the cat was not actually a sphynx cat, could a cat just lose all the fur? Had it been burnt off in a fire? She was not entirely sure.

Agnes kept coming back and more often than not she had the other cat with her. Gertrude eventually named her Jude, as both seemed to stay for longer. The main problem with it was that Gertrude did not really like Jude and Jude did not seem to like her either. Often hissing if Gertrude spent too much time with Agnes, even if she had simply fallen asleep on her lap. Agnes, however, seemed perfectly happy being around and getting attention from them both. Seemingly ignoring whatever hatred was going on between a human and a cat.

There was one cat that came by once in a while. The first time she saw him he had been laying by her mailbox, ‘saw’ was a rather strong word in that case. His black and fluffy fur melted into the darkness of late November night. He had looked up as Gertrude passed him. All she had been then was bright yellow eyes, blinked, then put his head down to sleep. Or she assumed he went to sleep. 

After that she would mostly see him, well, his eyes. He did not stare at her, just looked up from whatever shadow he melted into and looked very tired to be a cat. Seriously, he did not seem to have a home and even if he did he could sleep all day. No need to look like he went to work all day. Gertrude had been rather happy to just let him be. After all, he seemed quiet and calm, just happy to lay around in the shadows, rather similar to Maxwell when she thought more about it.

In the end Mike had been the one to get the cat inside. It had been a month of living there and Gertrude had tried to let Mike go back out now that he seemed more healthy. But just like her first attempt he came back. This time not alone or with Simon. Gertrude had opened the door and Mike, though smaller than the other, had managed to push the other in. An hour later the cat had made himself comfortable in a corner of the sofa, Mike tucked into his side. Both asleep. Gertrude had a sinking feeling that the other would be staying more inside. 

She had been right as the cat was still in the house a week later. This time curled up on a table, watching Gertrude with the sleepy yellow eyes. She looked between the still unnamed cat and the food she was making and decided to name the cat Oliver. She was not very fond of ‘Olive’ just because he looked similar at the moment.

[softevnstan]

³.⍭ 𝐈𝐭 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

pairing. bucky barnes x gender netural!reader

summary. you couldn't believe the name that graced the file on your desk for your new patient. james 'bucky' barnes. you'd heard of him - even studied some of his history during college for psychology classes. never would you have imagined he'd be sent to your office, looking for help.

a.n. yeahhh i couldn't do this as just a one time thing. this is going to be a multi-part i write to update every now and again. so for today you have crumbs of what your first session is like. as someone who's been diagnosed with c-ptsd and has a butt-load of trauma, i'm writing bucky's experience in therapy based on my own. that being said i do not condone patient/therapist irl or any of that power balance outside of fiction. gross. that's the only disclaimer for this series tho going forward, i'm not gonna tag that everytime.

edit. part two is here yall

“So, Mr. Barnes, from what I’m understanding, you'd like to make me your primary therapist and discontinue working with Doctor Raynor?” Perhaps if you knew you’d be in this situation, you would’ve mentally prepared yourself a little better for the day when you got up out of bed that morning.

Being a therapist certainly wasn’t without its obstacles, no – It’s a lot to listen to someone else’s problems and just how many callus and evil things happen in the world. It also has its moments where it reminds you just how vile people can be, too. From children all the way to elderly, you’ve seen countless patients. They come back because you’re passionate about your job; Not looking at these people as paychecks but as living, breathing people. And sometimes people just need someone to talk to; there’s no shame in that.

You just never anticipated you’d have a war hero on your office couch, though. That was not on the radar when you were working towards your Master’s Degree. 

James “Bucky” Buchanan Barnes sat across from your beige and brown striped armchair on the couch. He looked lonely in the middle; For a man so broad, it would be impressive how small he could make himself if not for the fact it was simultaneously heart wrenching. Cobalt eyes struggled to meet your gaze from the moment he walked into the office to begin the session. His body looked awfully stiff, and his eyes dark like he hadn’t had a good night’s rest in weeks. Perhaps months.

“Yes.” He answers stiffly, “Please.” At least he’s sure to mind his manners despite the clear discomfort radiating from the soldier across from you. But his quiet and taut demeanor is discouraging: “It’s important that you are comfortable here, Mr. Barnes. Therapy is something that works best when it doesn’t feel forced…” “I am comfortable,” Bucky jumps to correct, earning a slight raise of a brow from you before schooling your expression once more. “Comfortable enough. I’m just new to… this.” The man makes a vague gesture with his hands between the both of you; Aching eyes speaking more than words ever will when Bucky briefly raises them to look at you.

The first step is wanting to heal. Bucky’s already showing initiative by being present - by putting his foot forward to try to find a therapist better suited to him rather than just throwing his hands up after the first dead end. That’s good. You can work with that. 

Your lips curl into a soft, welcoming smile. “Change can be scary, especially when we don’t understand what all is changing or what could come from it. With us working together, though, I can only do as much as you let me. It’s going to be intimidating, and you may not like it, but I want to help you feel better, Mr. Barnes. You deserve to feel better.” Positive reinforcements are always a good thing so long as they’re not condescending or passive aggressive. It’s all in the delivery, you’ve learned. It’s important patients feel comfortable when they’re with you – how else are they expected to be honest, then?

Bucky looks quizzically for a few moments before once more averting his anxious gaze. It made your heart hurt to see a man so beaten down and on edge; it felt so obvious to you, but then again, you were educated on how to find the tells. You could read him like a book right then. Feel everything radiating off of him, almost.

“What kind of things will you do..?” Bucky inquires after a beat.

“Well, I’d like you to start keeping a journal that we could use for our sessions. It’ll help you keep a record of what you’re feeling and we could use it like a workbook – there’d be homework involved, but there’d be nothing I know you can’t handle.”

“Homework?”

You smile, a nod of your head: “Work sheets, sometimes I’ll ask you to read something for me or answer a few questions, sometimes I’ll give you a worksheet you can use when necessary – then the next time I see you, we’ll go over what you’ve brought back and assess together so I can help you understand.”

He’s tentative to the idea, you can see it. It’s clear Bucky is very selective and reserved. You can only imagine how much strife this poor man has been through. But you see the light in him. You do. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to get better.

“...I don’t want to be unhappy anymore,” Bucky says, almost not catching the words if not for the fact the room is silent except for the two of you. “I can help you, Bucky,” you assure him, voice sincere. “We just need to work together and let me give you the tools to be happy. Do you think you can do that for me, Mr. Barnes?”

It’s clear your words seem to rock Bucky in some way, because he looks at you with something that almost resembles shock. As if he’s never heard anyone say something like that to him, has never wanted to help him become himself again. And if his experiences with Raynor is anything to base off of, Bucky needs a proper support system and someone who’s there with his best interest in mind. You can be that for him - even if it is your job irregardless. 

He’s silent, eyes darting away and breaking the brief moment of eye contact between the both of you. Then, a nod.

“I can try.” it might as well be a promise.

“That’s all I’ll ever ask of you.”

[foxyou-too]

@supaform

[mercurymilkshakes]

Pre-Christmas Gifts | Remus Lupin

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: remus lupin x gn! reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): none

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: remus went way over budget on your christmas gift, but it’s the thought that counts.

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓(𝐒): “that’s far too expensive!” “it’s alright.”

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1.4k

There was a chilling breeze in the air. A slight wind that nipped at noses and cheeks, causing any exposed beings to shove their faces beneath layers upon layers of fluffy, warm clothing as they pushed through the flurry of sparkling white snow.

Observing the winter wonderland that had become of the world outside your ice-frosted window, you sighed gratefully into the mug of hot cocoa you’d swiped from the kitchens, thankful that you were indoors under a pile of cozy throw blankets instead of outdoors getting pelted by charmed snowballs on the Hogwarts grounds.

Although, you certainly wouldn’t mind the objectively peaceful atmosphere of the outside realm- at least compared to your current surroundings.

“Y/N, when are we gonna do gifts?” James Potter whined as he leaned over the back of the worn red common room couch and adjusted the jingling antler headband upon his head.

“It’s not even Christmas yet, pea brain.” You chuckled, sipping on the wonderfully sweet drink that kept your hands pleasantly warm.

“But we can hardly wait for tomorrow.” Sirius joined in the groaning, wrapping an arm around James’ shoulder and flicking the pom-pom of his elf hat away from his face so as to give you his best puppy dog eyes.

Peter quickly joined the mix, a much longer elf hat with opposite red and green stripes to Sirius’ adorning his own head.

“Pipe down, all of you.” Remus muttered tiredly, shuffling over in his ratty brown slippers to place a gentle kiss on your forehead before collapsing in the armchair next to the window seat you currently occupied.

You chuckled warmly at his exhausted state, “Have they been bothering you all night or something?”

“You’ve no idea.” He sighed, pushing his hair beneath the fluffy lining of his Santa hat- the one that perfectly matched your own.

“Pleaaaase?” James whined, “Just one gift! We can each pick just one gift from one person, right? That way we still have gifts tomorrow!”

You sigh heavily. After hours upon hours of the boys’ endless complaining, you found yourself defeated by their tirelessness.

“One present.” You warn, raising a single finger to emphasize your statement.

Even with a hand over his eyes, Remus could tell that you’d made the action, and decidedly joined you by raising his unoccupied hand in a crude gesture, “Just one.”

You laugh at the sight of his middle finger and swat at his arm, causing him to chuckle and pull his hand away from his eyes, looking at you with mirth and adoration as the other three boys began jumping up and down in excitement.

“I choose Sirius’ gift!” James shouted, dashing for the medium, poorly wrapped box beneath one of the three Christmas trees in the Gryffindor common room.

“Aw, mate, you don’t wanna do that.” Sirius laughed with a shake of his head.

His words fell on deaf ears as James was already tearing at the paper and practically gnawing through the tape.

Just as suddenly as he had opened the gift, the unsuspecting box pushed a volcano of confetti directly in the boy’s face.

The room erupted in cackles as James furiously tried to huff the little red and green bits out of his nose.

“I warned you,” Sirius grinned proudly, “Could have been worse too, there was a sale on stink bombs that Peter had to force me not to buy.”

“You’re welcome.” Peter nodded with a sly smile, knowing the mess that the confetti caused was likely much more awful than Sirius’s original plan.

James ignored the mess and reached into the box, pulling out a small golden ball that unfurled its delicate wings at his touch, “Where’d you get a snitch?”

“Stole it from the school’s quidditch supplies, obviously.” Sirius stated in a ‘duh’ tone.

“Thanks, Pads, this is really neat.” A glint reflected off the boys glasses as he tossed the snitch in the air. A small shimmer of gold and subtle firelight from the fireplace he sat aside.

“Yeah, yeah, my turn! I pick… Y/N’s.” He snatched the gift bag from the ground and tossed the tissue paper to the floor, eagerly pulling out a large leather-bound book with gold embellishments.

Despite your dissatisfaction with the boys for having forced you to cave, you sat up ever so slightly to see the boy’s reaction.

“It’s.. a book?” Sirius seemed confused, and even the slightest bit disappointed.

“Read the front, dumbass.” Remus jerked his head as Peter took the book from his hands and turned it over, forcing it back into his hold.

“The marauders…” Sirius read, “a collection of family photos and portraits.”

Still confused, he unclasped the book and observed the first page, which has a messy collage of enchanted photographs depicting him and his dear friends, “You made a… family scrapbook? For us?”

“I just- I wanted you to always remember that there’s more than one kind of family…”

Sirius having been disowned the previous summer had affected all the group differently- but one thing that they had all maintained was that even if Sirius’s parents didn’t want him to think so, he always had a family in you and the boys.

“It’s… it’s brilliant, thank you.” Sirius blinked heavily and turned the pages gingerly, as if scared he would ruin them with anything more than a feather-light touch.

You smiled gently, sending a thankful look to the others, who had helped you put together the scrapbook with collections of their own photos.

“My turn,” Peter smiled, picking randomly off the small pile of his gifts, “I suppose it’s James’.”

Carefully, he tore away the messy bow and wrapping paper to reveal a brand new wizards chess set.

“Because I absolutely destroyed your last one.” James chuckled sheepishly, “Still sorry about that, by the way.”

“It’s alright. Now we can have a rematch after dinner.” Peter challenged lightheartedly, not having been affected by the loss of his previous chess set as much as James’ guilty conscious thought.

“You’re on.” James grinned.

“Well- I already know what Wormtail got me.” Remus plucked the gift bag off his own pile of presents, reaching in and tugging out a chocolate bar, opening it and breaking it apart, offering you some as he stuffed his own piece in his mouth.

“Thanks, Pete.” He uttered with his mouth full, earning a chuckle and shake of Peter’s head.

“Your turn, Y/N.” James urged, shuffling over to your pile, readying to bring you whatever you chose.

“Hmmm…” You considered your options as you set your empty mug on a side table, recognizing Sirius’ poorly hidden mischievous look and deciding the safest option was the best, “I pick Remus’.”

James nodded diligently and found a small gift among the clutter, bringing it over to you and presenting it to you as if it were a knight’s sword being offered to your royal self.

You roll your eyes at his antics, grabbing the gift and tearing carefully through the wrapping, revealing a small, plush box that you popped open.

A bright, shiny gold pocket watch greeted you with a sparkling wink, the engravings of various animal prints surrounding the face.

As you looked closer, you realized the animal prints weren’t random, and were in fact all of your animagi prints- cloven hooves, paws and claws forming a brilliant, subtle pattern— and in the direct centre, an incredible full moon that seemed to shimmer with a realistic silver glow.

“Perhaps it had more meaning to me.” Remus admitted sheepishly, “I just thought…”

He trailed off as you clicked the watch open, realizing it wasn’t an ordinary time-telling pocket watch, but it also had an enchanted calendar in the top- depicting the moon cycles and the date of the next full moon.

“You keep tabs on me anyway, I just thought I’d maybe.. make your job a bit easier…”

He violently mistook the frown on your face for disappointment, and you realized this as he began to flush nervously and over-explain his choice of gift- so you decided to quiet his burning thoughts, “Remus, this is lovely, but… this is far too expensive.”

You knew his financial situation wasn’t necessarily the best thing in the world, and it worried you that he seemed to spend so much on such a fantastic gift. An enchanted gold pocket watch? It was definitely out of your agreed budget.

Yet he just smiled, and settled back in his seat, “Not if it’s for you. It’s alright.”

You grinned back at the boy, sharing in his stark look of love and affection as James hung himself over your shoulder in an attempt to see your gift better, being swatted away by Sirius, who was trying to do the exact same.

“Geez, Moony, and what’d you get us?” Sirius joked as he admired the detailing of your present.

“You’ll find out tomorrow, arsehole.”

It’s been so long, but we are back with a Christmas gift! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, I hope you enjoy this little one shot I put together. - ♠️

Wanna join our taglist? Fill out this form!

✎ tags: @asherhunterx, @collaps3r, @demigirl-with-problems, @esposadomd, @alexxavicry, @simp4feild, @chickendog901

[finkinthisfrew]

Anything (Pt.3)

A Matty Healy Fanfic

cw: sexual tension? lol

Chapter 3

Poking my head out of the bathroom, I walked through what must have been the man's bedroom. Not wanting to be too nosy, I quickly walked out of the room, avoiding looking around too much.

Shuffling down the unfamiliar hallway, I admired the comfort of my new outfit. I had chosen a black, very soft, and very worn-in hoodie, and a pair of warm grey drawstring sweatpants that pooled at my ankles, adorned in thick white knit socks. It all smelled so comforting- something warm and spicy mixed with something else familiar that I couldn't quite put my finger on. 

The concrete walls and ceilings continued through the hallway, but the floor was charming old hardwood. A few photos adorned a long rustic console that ran along the hall. I couldn't help but look at them- one of someone who was most likely his mother, another of him with his arms around three men, and a photobooth strip of him with one of the three men from the previous photo. My heart dropped a little at the bottom square, a picture of him and the other man kissing.

Of course, it had to be too good to be true... I thought to myself. 

But I thought back to the moment we shared in the bathroom. There's no way I was the only one that felt whatever that was back there. Or was I truly just concussed?

I continued down the hall and stepped into a breathtaking room.

I stared at the giant wall entirely made up of gridded windows. Beyond the window wall was a patio full of greenery- a private little oasis. The ceilings soared in the giant room that housed what looked like the kitchen, living room, and dining room. The decor was artistic and modern while still looking homey and lived in. I nearly bumped into the vintage pool table that sat to the left of the doorway, I was so breath taken.

It became even more unbelievable when I remembered that we were supposed to be above the coffee shop. 

"You look lovely." I turned to see the man smiling cheekily behind the kitchen island as he plucked ice cubes out of a tray and into a bag. He was now wearing a brown striped knit crewneck with black trousers. His wet hair was pushed back into a ballcap. He looked so effortlessly handsome. I smiled back at him as I momentarily thought back wistfully to when I could see his tattoos through his shirt.

"How are you feeling, still cold?" he asked, his brows now furrowing as he rushed over to the couch to pick up a large orange blanket.

"A little, but the clothes and the tea are helping. Thank you for that, by the way."

He nodded his head affirmatively as he put the blanket around my shoulders. He gestured to the couch.

"You have nothing to thank me for, don't be silly. Now your burn, how is your burn?" he asked as I sat down, him continuing to bundle me up in the blanket, eyes looking up at me intently.

My heart skipped a beat. I was so touched by how caring and concerned he was. I was a total stranger to this man, and yet he treated me like kin.

"It's a lot better actually. I don't know if it's the painkillers or just that I'm going numb from the pain, but it's not nearly as bad" I said, as he winced in response. 

He promptly stood up and strode over to the kitchen island, picking up the bag of ice and wrapping it in a hand towel. I saw him start to reach to put the ice on me and then stop himself, putting it in my hand instead.

He sat down in a large armchair as I put the ice on my chest, any pain I still felt immediately relieved.

"Thank you... what's your name?" I said, realizing.

A mix of emotions riddled his face. He looked slightly surprised, but pleasantly. And definitely happy. I wondered if he didn't expect me to have asked, maybe he thought I would have just left out the door after he left me on my own in the bathroom.

"Matty. Well, technically it's Matthew, but everyone including my own mother calls me Matty. And what's yours?" he asked.

"Anna. Sometimes people call me Anne, but mostly just Anna."

"Anna," he repeated, almost savouring the word, analyzing how it felt on his tongue. He smiled again. After a moment of comfortable silence, he asked "So what do you do, Anna?"

"I'm an artist," I answered. "I do a lot of different things, but ceramics is my primary medium. What about you?"

"Oh cool! I'm also an artist," his eyes lit up as he continued. "A musician, actually. I play in a band with some friends, but your art sounds much more fascinating. Your accent, you must not be from here?"

"No, I'm from Canada. I'm here doing an artist residency at the gallery just down the street from here actually."

"How long are you here for?" he asked, keenly.

"Five more months."

His face dropped a little, but before I could register its meaning, he asked "So how do you like London so far? Is this your first time visiting?"

"Oh, I love it so far! I mean, I've only been here a month, but I already love it. My apartment is great, and the studio I work out of is perfect. I haven't tried too much in terms of food, but I have tried a few places and the food's been amazing..." I trailed off, then remembered, "Oh, my cookies!"

He must have known exactly what I was talking about because he promptly stood up and walked out of the room and into the hall. A few moments later he returned with my brown paper bag. "I know what these puppies are worth," he smiled as he watched my face light up.

"Yes, oh my god, thank you! These are my favourite, and they almost always sell out" I said as he handed me the bag. 

"Oh I know," he responded. "I had to tell the owner she wasn't allowed to sell me them to me anymore after I ate two a day for six weeks straight when I first moved in here."

I laughed as I opened the bag and saw the cookies were still intact, as the smell started to make my mouth water. 

"Would you like one?" I offered.

"Are you sure? I know those are hard to come by."

"Of course," I scoffed. "You've taken such sweet care of me, it would make me happy to be able to repay you."

"I wish you wouldn't act like I was some knight in shining armour, as if I wasn't also the dragon that almost killed you," he groaned again into his hands. "You really are too kind. Actually..." he paused. "I wanted to ask you- would you like to stay for a coffee? The least I could do is replace the one I made you drop."

I hesitated. I was in a stranger's apartment, with a man I had just met. I didn't want to overstay my welcome. But I felt so at home with Matty. I already felt like we were friends, and he was just too sweet and handsome for me to want anything other than to have a coffee with him.

"I'd love to," I replied with a smile.

His face broke into a bright-eyed smile, my heart once again sent into overdrive from his beauty. 

"You stay right there and I'll go grab us the coffees. You were drinking something iced- a latte?" 

I nodded in response.

"I'll be right back."

Not more than five minutes later he reappeared with two coffees in his hands, both iced this time, which made me smile. He sat back down on the couch as we shared the cookies and continued to chat about everything under the sun. We talked about music, the type of music he made, our favourite bands, what my art looked like, our favourite tv shows, all interspersed with moments of recognition of how much we had in common. I felt like we could talk for ages, and before I knew it, I had glanced over at the clock on the wall and saw that three hours had passed since he'd come back from the coffee shop, even though it had only felt like one.

"I really should get going," I said, standing up, not wanting to overstay my welcome.

"Oh," he said following suit, his voice laced with disappointment. He tried to cover it up with a more chipper tone. "Alright then. Let me call you an Uber," he said as we walked towards the staircase that lead down to the front door.

"That's really not necessary, I can just take the tube."

"Absolutely not. I don't send my burn victims to fend for themselves on public transit. As much as I'd love an excuse to nurse you back to health again, I'm not letting you go on there in such a state," he said too busy concentrating on his phone to notice me blush at his words. He looked so cute frowning down at his phone with such determination. "Where can I send you to? Do you have a friend that could take care of you? Or a boyfriend?" his voice hitched before he said 'boyfriend'.

I shook my head with a little smile. "No, I actually don't really know anyone here other than my landlord and my residency mentor, and I don't know either of those well enough to accept me in this state." 

He looked at me in disbelief.

"Besides, I feel so much better. The warm clothes and the ice have helped so much," I hesitated before I added "And your company. I think that helped a lot too. This has been really lovely getting to know you." I smiled at him and he beamed back at me with a giant smile, clearly very happy. He passed me his phone to let me enter my address and I tried not to blush as I felt his gaze on me. I could feel myself failing as my cheeks burned.

"Thank you for everything," I said as I stepped forward to hug him. He immediately reciprocated, wrapping his arms around me. He smelled of that warm spicy smell that I smelled on my new outfit, it was so comforting, almost intoxicating. I couldn't help but melt into his chest, inhaling what I knew could only be my new favourite drug. We hugged for what could only be described as too long for two people who had just met, swaying a bit as neither of us wanted it to end. 

Eventually, we pulled away as he said "This really has been so nice getting to know you, Anna. You're a really lovely girl." His eyes radiated sincerity as he looked down into mine. We stood there looking at each other for a few moments, tension building. Once again chickened out and broke eye contact, dropping my gaze to his chest, the same moment I could have sworn I saw him begin to lean towards me. I was already kicking myself for it when he said, "If only I hadn't started this relationship off by pummelling you to the ground and burning you to a crisp before giving you hypothermia," he said, groaning as he put his forehead on my shoulder, hiding in embarrassment. 

I laughed as I patted his back. 

Eventually, he pulled his head back. I noted how I already missed his touch.

This time I couldn't ignore his lips. They were too perfect not to want to kiss. I watched as he looked up from my lips, leaning in again, just a fraction as if to ask permission. I wanted to tell him he didn't need permission. Leaning in slowly, taking in the sweet colour of his lips, I looked back up into his eyes one last time. 

*DING*

His phone rang as the Uber driver arrived.

Both startled, shaken from the intense moment, we took a step back.

"Your car is here. Here, let me help you with your shoes," and before I could decline, he rushed over with my boots and offered his arm to help me step into them.

My heart swelled at how sweetly he was treating me as I thanked him.

We walked down the stairs together and he opened the door to the car for me as he leaned in one last time to say, "So if you ever need another burn, or fancy some hypothermia, you know where to find me- I'm your guy." he joked before continuing. "Or a coffee. At this point, I think I owe you a lifetime of coffee."

"A coffee would be nice." I smiled at him and savoured how his eyes crinkled as he smiled in response. We looked for just a moment longer into each other's eyes before he gave a sweet little gesture farewell and closed the car door, leaving me to gather my absolutely shaken heart after what I think had been my favourite day I'd ever had. 

[nobility-art]

Portrait of King Philip II of Spain

Artist:  Tiziano Vecellio

Genre: Portrait

Depicted People: King Philip II of Spain

Date: circa 1488–1576

Medium: Oil on Canvas

Collection: Cincinnati Art Museum

This portrait of King Philip II of Spain was made around 1550/1551 by the Italian artist Tiziano Vecellio, called Titian, who lived from about 1488 to 1576. It is an oil painting on canvas and was bequeathed to the Cincinnati Art Museum.

Here we have the life-sized portrait of a young king, seated in an armchair turned three-quarters toward the viewer. Behind is a heavy silk curtain decorated with silver embroidery and an open window on the left. His head faces forward, but his eyes look sideways, out at us. He wears a jeweled crown over his short brown hair and is dressed in robes of state that are loosely brushed in and, in some areas, look unfinished. They are white with long, puffed sleeves, decorated with alternating areas of black and white vertical stripes from his shoulder to elbow. Dark fabric is draped over his shoulders and falls to his legs. Philip’s left hand rests on the armrest of an elaborately gilt decorated chair. His right hand holds a scepter that is braced on his right thigh. Hanging over his chest is a large gold chain with a sheep pendant -- the Order of the Golden Fleece.