#that would be too much organisation especially first thing in the morning when my brain doesnt kick in until 1pm

[nerdie-faerie]

There are a few rare occasions where I feel like a proper student rather than just someone wasting thousands in student loans, but I seem to save them up for the lowest moments

[sailxrmxrs]

hello i really love your writing! if you're taking requests, i've been thinking about the infinite blue boys in a typical office setting with the MC and what that would be like? thank you!!~

this has been sat in my inbox for SO LONG I AM SO SORRY TO THE PERSON WHO REQUESTED THIS SDKFDGS but!! better later than never right??? right?????? anyway now is the perfect time to finally get around to this bc my brain has been so occupied lately playing sympathy kiss so office based otome is right at the forefront of my mind hehe. it's like it was meant to be. ALSO thank u so much!! i don't think too much about what i write after it's been posted so i forget people actually look at it sometimes sksjfkf TY FOR REQUESTING THIS WAS LOVELY TO THINK ABOUT also incredibly funny looking at the last post of me being like 'i want to get back to writing more regularly!!' as if i didn't slink back into the shadows again for four months this was also the first thing i've written since getting my new keyboard which is really taking some getting used to especially with nails dsklfsg still, enjoy office time gamers o7

♡ leo ♡

Leo definitely seems like the type to bring the energy to his office department, especially on a Monday morning when everyone wants nothing more than to have had just one more day to spend at home before work started all over again for another week. He'd be the only one with a spring in his step as he went about his morning, filling his water bottle, getting situated at his desk. Speaking of his desk, Leo's workspace would be the definition or organised chaos. Post-it notes are scattered across the bottom of his monitor, there's a pile of loose sheets covered in haphazard notes scrawled across them, and there are definitely more than a few pens with no ink left strewn across the desk. They also happen to be mixed in with perfectly usable pens so Leo would have to scramble for a pen when someone from another department came to brief him on a project he was working on. Every time, without fail, he is grabbing pens and scribbling on a notepad until he finds one that works enough to make notes clear enough for him to reference later on. You ask each time why he doesn't just go through and throw away the empty pens to which Leo jokingly scoffs about how he finds the right pens first time every time. He does not.

He's very much the epitome of a work best friend. Someone who will text you on the weekend like 'I know we spend every day sat next to each other but can we hang out together pls'. He enjoys your company okay!! You are very fun and he wants you to know that!! Will find himself getting into a bit of trouble for getting distracted talking about weekend plans with you but can you blame him? It's a Friday afternoon and his brain has logged off. Unfortunately for Leo, despite his brain having logged off, his computer is very much logged in so he has to force himself to keep going for that last stretch of hours between him and the weekend. Will whine and complain to you about how Fridays should be half days which, given Leo's usual demeanour at the start of the week, is an amusing shift in tone. Cut to a couple of hours later and Leo is shutting down his computer the second the clock ticks over to 5pm. He'll swing his chair around to face you, staring you down until you finally close everything down to get ready to leave. Think puppy watching and waiting for you to take them on a walk. Sometimes if you have plans for the Friday evening, he'll offer to pick you up on the way to work to save you the drive too. Also because it gives him an excuse for being late like oh no there was just so much traffic leaving their place I definitely did not stop for coffee on the way here not at all!! He absolutely did but don't worry he didn't forget to pick up your favourite order too~

I think Leo would be a really good motivator in the office too. If a day was going particularly bad, or if a really busy period struck he would be the perfect person to help keep your mood in balance. He's very encouraging for you to step away from your desk. Take a break, have a drink, maybe get a little snack to energise yourself. But he doesn't do it to distract you nor does he overstep any boundaries. He will offhandedly comment on how hard you've been working and make a gentle suggestion that a break is needed. He'd also offer to lend a hand if there was anything particularly pressing that was weighing you down. Try and say no. Try it. Never works. Leo's always happy to help because he knows you would do the same for him and have previously done so in the past when he was newer to the job and hadn't quite gotten his bearings yet. He makes the long days pass by quicker. Truly the best person to work with.

♡ milo ♡

Milo is absolutely that one coworker who keeps to himself a lot and develops this really cool and mysterious reputation. No one really knows what he does for work and no one ever asks him either because they're a little too intimidated to talk to him. It's not that he's had any particularly bad run-ins with anyone else in the office but more so that he no one really knows a whole lot about him. Any conversations about his weekend plans or what he did the evening prior are met with the most normal responses someone could muster. He's going grocery shopping, he's visiting family, he stayed in last night to watch tv. No one knows anything about his life outside of work and no one's bumped into him anywhere but in the office. The only reason people don't speculate that he lives there is because they see him drive in and park in the same spot at the same time each morning. Him keeping to himself isn't really an antisocial thing, but more so that he's there to work so would rather just get on with whatever he has to do with minimal distractions. He's an efficient man and doesn't like people stealing his attention away from any sort of deadline.

Then along comes this slight change in the office layout and suddenly your desk has been moved directly next to his. Surprise had left you stunned for a moment when Milo greeted you that first morning before sitting down and getting himself set up for the working day. He still never offered much conversation, just the usual 'good morning' and 'have a good evening' as you both left the office. It wasn't until you both stayed behind a little late one Friday evening to finish some paperwork before the weekend and he'd stricken up a conversation while walking back to your cars. It was mostly small talk, nothing of too much substance, but it was far more than he gave anyone else. If you ask, he simply answers that until the clock hits around 5pm, he's at work. Once he's left the office building, he's just normal Milo again. It's his way of separating work and his personal life. Honestly, his work/life balance is enviable.

Over time, as you grow closer, he'll start to chat more during office hours. Asking what you thought of a recent episode of a show, if you'd seen the news about an upcoming game. And your closeness wouldn't go unnoticed. You'll get coworkers whispering to you on your lunch break asking to share some information since they'd barely seen Milo speak with anyone else so openly before. You'd always politely decline, telling them he never really shared anything special and it was mostly just work related things—a white lie, of course, but what they didn't know didn't hurt them. Milo would appreciate it too, often voicing his complaints about the busybodies in the office not so subtly whispering about him. He didn't care too much about their speculations of him until they started dragging you into it too. Grumpy Milo grumbling into his coffee cup asking why they cared so much anyway. Who cares who he speaks to at work (He cares. But he won't tell you that).

♡ rory ♡

Rory at any given moment in time will take the opportunity to complain about something that has happened in the office that day. Whether it's someone not submitting documents on time or somebody emailing him with any extra set of tasks on top of his already stacked workload, he will be sending you a string of messages to blow off some steam. The first time it'd happened, you were sitting in the break room enjoying your lunch when Rory slumped into the chair next to you and signed so heavily you thought something terrible had happened and he was barely keeping himself together. As it had turned out, a new intern had done something without running it by anyone else first and caused a particularly big problem. One that Rory's manager decided would be his responsibility to resolve before the day's end. As well as meet his own deadlines for the same evening. To say he was stressed was an understatement. So Rory had taken solace in your quiet presence and let out his frustrations. Once he'd gotten it all out of his system, he apologised for the outburst and introduced himself, realising the two of you had never actually spoken before. He then offered to lend a listening ear for your own work annoyances, attentively taking it all in while you spoke. Once your lunch break came to an end, you exchanged contacts with the promise that you could be each other's dedicated work therapist whenever someone or something had pissed you off.

From that point on, you'd receive the odd message here and there throughout the day from Rory with the latest complaint. At first, it was just a way to get the annoyances off your chests but as time went on, conversations started to meander and before long you were becoming closer and closer. You didn't see each other much while working—only ever in passing if you needed to deliver a document to a different department or if there was a meeting you needed to attend. Your texts were your main point of contact with Rory until he suggested you start coordinating your lunch breaks so that you could actually hang out face-to-face rather than via text message. Coworkers would definitely start to speculate how and why these two individuals from completely different departments became friends or if there was something more to the relationship. Especially considering Rory, much like Milo, was more reserved and didn't really show much of an effort to become friends with the people he worked with. He was amicable enough but kept the colleague boundary up like a wall. Except with you, anyway.

I think Rory would want to extend your work friendship beyond office hours and would start wanting to text you later in the evening but is so nervous to come across as being too forward. He likes to act as though he's a very nonchalant person but he really isn't at all. Especially not where you are concerned. So you'd definitely need to be the one to nudge and initiate more of a friendship between you both. It wouldn't take much. All you'd need to do was text him one Saturday morning and mention how you were planning for a bookshop trip and as if he wanted to come along. He texts back almost instantly with a big 'YES' followed immediately by a 'glad you've finally recognised my superior taste in books' purely to save face for how eager he must have seemed. Would come into the office on the Monday with red cheeks once he saw you in the staff car park and try to sound as normal as possible commenting on how he had a good weekend. For his own sanity, just go along with it. He begs.

♡ alexei ♡

Alexei is the new starter who doesn't have a whole lot of office experience under his belt. He's bright eyed and eager to learn on the job but is also somewhat nervous to make mistakes or ask too many questions. It takes him a little while to settle in and feel fully comfortable with his surroundings but once he does, Alexei starts to really flourish. Once he knows you're happy to answer all of his questions and won't scold him for not understanding something straight way, he will come to you with an entire monologue of queries he wants to clarify. Literally rambles this long stream of consciousness before reaching the end of his list and looking at you all expectantly for your response. Listens so intently while he's perched on his desk chair, scribbling down notes as you run through everything he'd asked. Then turns back to his computer screen with a 'thank you' and then doesn't say another word for like two hours. He'll just be typing and clicking away with this intense focus until you have to tap on his shoulder and remind him to take a break from the screen for a few minutes. Will struggle to pull himself away for breaks because once he's in the zone he is IN. He only really likes stepping away from his desk when he has reached a good stopping point and he absolutely hates leaving a task partially finished.

I don't think Alexei would be a super social person at work. It wouldn't be for any particular reason other than the thought didn't really occur to him? He prefers to take his breaks at his desk because his chair is comfortable enough so the only people he really talks to on the regular are the people he works with directly. Being new, he hasn't had much of a reason to visit the other departments nor has he been brought on to any big projects that would have him meeting and working with anyone else around the office. Even after he's been there for a little while, he's reached a point where he feels awkward introducing himself because he's not exactly new anymore but he also doesn't know a lot of names. Whenever there's an office party or holiday event, Alexei will turn and whisper to you asking who that was or to remind him of a name. He could have had a good ten minute conversation with someone who and not had a single clue as to what their name was. It makes for some funny encounters, especially if it's someone not well liked within the office. They'd strike up a conversation just for Alexei to clearly not know who they are. We love to see it.

After Alexei has been working in the office for a few months and has gotten nicely settled in his job, I can see him being really welcoming to a new starter. In the same way you answered all his questions and helped him along with his training, Alexei would do the same for the new person. He might come across a little too excited with how forthcoming he is with explanations or offers to help out with anything they're struggling with but it's clear that he means well. He's just a little enthusiastic!! Would also start to add little decorations on his desk. He doesn't do anything too special, but he might have a tiny figurine of a jellyfish sat under his monitor and would have themed notepads and matching pens to go with them. If he's going to spend most of his day there, he wants it to feel like it's his personal little corner.

♡ brooklyn ♡

Brooklyn is the high ranking manager CEO businessman who is also one of the most likable people around the office. Despite him always being seen in his signature suits and ties with some sort of important document in hand at any given moment, he was genuinely pleased to speak with anyone working there. He has his moments of being the stern business type, particularly when in stressful meetings to discuss the company's performance for the quarter and their targets for the next quarter. Overall, however, he remains a generally calming presence. If you were his assistant, he'd try to alleviate as much of the pressure of the role as he could. He knew he was a painfully busy man and that you had no end of meetings to schedule, companies to contact for collaborations and partnerships. There was never really an end to your workload for which he felt a tad guilty. Anytime you entered his private office, reeling off the schedule for the afternoon or informing him of a visitor who had arrived to meet with him, Brooklyn is offering to make you a cup of tea or coffee no matter how many times you insist that that's your job, not his. He never listens.

I think he'd take a lot of interest in you as a person too, not wanting there to be this distinct barrier of boss and employee. He would much rather you both felt you stood on equal ground. That mindset had gotten him into some mild altercations in meetings when other company executives had made some sort of snide comment regarding your involvement in the discussions. Brooklyn wasn't going to stand for one of his most trusted and hardworking colleagues to be taken for granted. The strained tension never left the boardroom until a few minutes after the meeting ended and Brooklyn stormed out looking angrier than you'd ever seen him. Would be silent as he poured himself a cup of tea and then give you this serious talk about how if that were to ever happen without him around report it to him immediately. His expression was much sterner that you'd experienced from all your time working directly with Brooklyn, but it was evident that it came from a place of respect. And he explained as much as he leaned against his desk, pinching the spot between his brows as if the encounter had given him a headache.

There had never been any repeat instances following that afternoon, though you had overheard some whispers about the incident. Mostly from people surprised to hear that Brooklyn had raised his voice. Anytime you commented on it while presenting him with new paperwork, Brooklyn would adjust his tie awkwardly, face heating at the lack of composure he'd now exposed to the office. He took pride in coming across in a well-presented and calm manner so this one lapse of his self-restraint made him feel a touch embarrassed each time he was reminded of the event; in those moments he seemed less like the important business figure and more like a close friend you could playfully tease in passing moments between the busy hours. It was a comfortable and welcomed dynamic for the both of you.

♡ tobias ♡

Tobias is without a doubt the office socialite. He's always popping his head into the different departments with a request or to catch up after the weekend. He reminds me of someone I work with who is incredibly easy going and is friends with basically everyone in the office. Tobias can have a tendency to cause disruptions in that his voice will carry in an office room and he doesn't really realise how much of a distraction his presence can be sometimes. He doesn't mean to pull people away from anything important! But he also can't really help himself when it's the middle of the week and he's got all kinds of work adjacent stories to be shared. Will perch himself on your desk and start rambling away about something, not really noticing if you were paying him your full attention or not. It's only after he asks you a question and you noncommittally answer with a vague 'yes' that he'll start whining about how you're not listening to him. As much as we'd like to chat, some of us have work to do, Tobias. When you question him about his own work, Tobias will conveniently remember he needs to be somewhere else, dodging the question entirely and scampering away to a different department. There is usually a shaking of heads that follows after Tobias whenever he dashes off somewhere else—it's always from a place of endearing acceptance.

I can see Tobias being involved in the marketing side of a business. Definitely the one to organise big events and staff parties. He needs someone to rein him in though because some of his ideas aren't quite workplace or coworker friendly. He hears office party and thinks hell yeah time to go wild go crazy but no Tobias please the last time that happened you broke multiple office chairs we can't afford to keep replacing them every time. Would enlist you for help too because you're his favourite person to bother at work. Whether you humour him and play along or tell him to, light heartedly, leave you alone, Tobias will find his way to your desk for some quality catchup time. What do you mean it's Monday and you're busy? He needs to tell you about this movie he saw on Saturday that he thinks should be the theme of the next work event. He's also the type to bring food to your desk too. Will sometimes just buy lunch for you and pry your hands away from your keyboard so that he can slide a salad or pot of pasta into your grasp. Tobias takes lunch breaks very seriously. He'll also get treats for people in the office too! Buys little cakes or chocolates just because. This is part of the reason why everyone likes him so much; can't say no to a man who keeps you well fed.

Despite poking fun at Tobias being a bit more lax around the office, I think he genuinely would be full of solid ideas and he does feel pretty passionate about certain aspects of the job too. His work/life balance isn't perfect in that he tends to prioritise life a little more than he should sometimes but there's little harm in it. He's a very good person to be around if you're the type to get a bit too wrapped up in working. Tobias is NOT letting you overwork yourself. Not on his watch!! He's a surprisingly perceptive person and can very easily tell when you're stressed or not getting as much sleep as you should. Will take it upon himself to text you at the weekend to hang out and have a movie night with him. That way he can make sure you're relaxing and not spending your limited time off working your brain. Will steal your phone directly from your hands if you're staring too hard, eyebrows furrowed, and will replace it with a snack and gently remind you that it's the weekend time not work time. He has his uses sometimes.

[mazeinthemiroh]

Hello can I request a skz sleeping with there s/o for the first time 🙂

stray kids sleeping with their s/o for the first time

genre: headcanons; extremely fluffy bruh

word count: 0.8k

warnings: me going through my feels, basically

pls like and reblog if you enjoyed! feel free to request anything <3

bangchan

late night talking

neither of you gets any sleep

his brain just never switches off, so talking into the early hours of the morning comes very easily for him

he always has something interesting to talk about

so you guys talk the night away. i feel like because channie doesn't always have time in the day for you, he makes it up at night time, when he can share these moments one-on-one with you

has his permanent, signature dorky smile whenever he looks at you

would absolutely love to cuddle you if you are comfy with it ;-;

it's just a very fluffy time, i'm totally not jealous 🧑‍🦯

lee know

he shrugs it off as no big deal

plays it cool

but really he is really excited about sharing a bed with you for the first time

he plans it all too

makes his bed up with fresh bed covers, makes sure it looks presentable and that everything else in his room is organised

if you notice this or point it out to him, he's likely to deny he did it just for that night

he doesn't say much. he doesn't want to disturb your sleep and just wants to enjoy your company like this

will probably cuddle you or touch you in some way because he's a massive softie <33333

changbin

he's on his best behaviour from the minute you walk into his room

oh you guys are definitely cuddling tonight

he just HAS to have you in his arms

"i made my arms big for a reason"

"what reason?"

"so you could use them as pillows! >;("

why is he so adorable, i can't handle it

and won't let you go, even in his sleep. his subconscious mind knows better than to not let you go

but before he drifts off to sleep, he just wants to talk about your day

see if he can help with any problems you might be facing :((

brb just gonna go cry now

hyunjin

has a very dreamy look on his face

being a romantic person, hyunjin has thought about pivotal moments in his relationship with you, especially your 'first times' in doing things together: first dates, first anniversary, and now, first time sleeping together

so he makes his bed look presentable, neat and tidy for you

his whole bedroom in general is inviting; he always has a sweet-smelling candle or a humidifier turned on. just wants to make it as relaxing as possible for you, but he doesn't have to do much for that

he's just super sweet, isn't he

wants to just cuddle you and take care of you all the time ;-;

han

lowkey likes to pamper you

like you didn't expect too much for your first time sharing a bed with him

but he gets so excited about it

so he gets a bit carried away

ends up getting you a cute little plushie, as well as setting up a whole skincare sesh for the both of you

because his ideal night involves the image of the both of you with face masks on, eating a takeaway and binge-watching the anime he's gotten into recently

so that's what you guys do

he's literally the cutest and he doesn't even try

felix

SO FLUFFY

literally wraps you up in all the blankets he has

compliments your pyjamas :<

he wants to make sure you're as comfortable as possible. like, that's his priority

overall, he's just so smiley and giggly

you could say the most unfunny thing in the whole world and he just bursts into a fit of giggles

it's so hard not to be relaxed with him because his voice is so soothing and calm. paired with his warm personality and the welcoming atmosphere his bedroom provides, it's safe to say that this is the perfect environment to fall asleep in

seungmin

doesn't know how to act at first

sort of overthinks everything bless him 😭

does he let you do your thing? or does he engage in conversation with you? does he let you have your space? or does he scoop you up in a big ol' hug??

he doesn't know what to do

but he does well to ask you all these things. i think because you make him so comfortable, and the fact your relationship has brought you to this point, reassures him that he's not going to mess anything up

ends spooning you from behind because he's cute like that

jeongin

he is nervous about spending his first night with you

goes on his phone and scrolls through it a couple of times while you're getting ready for bed

suddenly his usual social skills leave his body and he's just sitting there trying to think of things to say

he gets through it though

once you both are all tucked up in bed he starts talking to you about literally anything... just something to get his mind off of panicking

i don't think he realises how charming he can be and it's frustrating yk 😤

[writingthingsisdifficult]

Good intentions

Bucky Barnes x reader

Had to divide the story into four parts, and I’m working as fast as I can to finish the rest.

Please don’t hesitate to tell me what you think :) Especially if you like it.

Everybody's alive.

When Natasha catches your reaction to seeing a soaking wet Bucky coming in from the rain, your life becomes unbearable. Nat considers herself a decent matchmaker, but what happens when both her subjects are resisting her attempts?

***

Part 1: Matchmaker

Word count: 4412

It had been raining for weeks. Racing streaks down the glass. Soft drumming against the umbrella. Big, fat drops of water splashing against the pavement, sending shivers through my body whenever they hit my skin. Two in rapid succession on my neck – don't know how, though, my coat collar was pulled up as high as it could go, and my umbrella was larger than average. Then one straight into my ear, which made me squeak in disgust. This had to be an omen.

I shook my umbrella before stepping through the door. No need to be a savage, though from the look of it, I was the only one who cared. A quick nod good morning to Nesta in the reception while making a mental note to call down the cleaning crew. The state of the floor was appalling. Mud and dirt and water – apparently not everyone remembered to wipe their feet before entering the building. And umbrellas all along the wall, dripping on the tiles, creating puddles so large a toddler would happily jump in them.

A long sigh escaped. Time for a stern talk with Nesta again. This was supposed to be a good first impression, not an impression of someone's mudroom. My stomach twisted, this was just the latest in a long string of minor complaints. If she didn't improve soon, I would have to make a note in her file and I hated being strict. Still, it was a part of my job, just like running errands before eight in the morning and longing for the coffee I left in my office. I didn't have to like it.

The elevator pinged. “Hey, Y/N.” Natasha walked out with a smile on her face. Her hair was red again, like flames cascading over her shoulders. Damn, that woman really could carry any hair colour. I nodded and smiled back. “Good morning, Agent Romanov. You're in early. What can I do for you? Love your hair, by the way."

"Thanks. I was wondering if you could help me with something."

I shook off my coat and adjusted the bag on my shoulder. "Of course. What do you need? Let me just –""

The door blew open, banging into the doorstopper before closing behind a sopping wet figure and an umbrella that definitely had seen better days. "Good morning, Y/N. Hey, Nat. Have you seen Clint?" Bucky shook himself, sending a glittering spray of water everywhere.

"No, but check the roof."

The air was knocked straight out of me. I couldn't stop the tiny squeak that tumbled over my lips.  The way his hair stuck to his face did things to me, not to mention how the water glistened on his metal arm. I hadn't felt heat on my face like that since I was seventeen and spilled juice all over my shirt in front of my neighbour Todd.

Swallowing the rest of the rude noises hovering in my throat, I forced a smile and nodded to the elevator. "Saw him by the coffee machine on the third floor earlier, Sargent Barnes." My voice was breathier that usual, and I cursed the weather for calling me out like that, while simultaneously praying to any deities listening that nobody noticed.

"Thanks." He marched to the elevator with a pace that would divide a crowd of people without a word.

Natasha looked between Bucky and me, a devilish smile spreading on her face. Once he was out of earshot, she bumped me with her elbow. “So, Bucky, huh?”

The heat crept up my ears and settled in my temples. Surely I was no more than two seconds from combusting? “What? I don’t… no, I mean –" I drew a big breath and steeled my face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now, what was it you needed my help with?”

Her eyes locked on mine. "Never mind that… You're a terrible liar."

A good point. I let out a small wheeze and scrunched my eyes shut. "Fine! Yes, Sargent Barnes is a tall drink of water. Is that what you want me to say? Well, yeah, okay. Maybe I do have a thing for him." The defeat was inevitable. Already my intestines were squirming. Nothing good could come from this.

Natasha looked like it was Christmas and her birthday all at once. "I knew it!"

I shrugged, ignoring the rising chill in my chest. How to best deescalate this before it got out of hand? "Well, you are a superspy after all. But please, PLEASE, don't say anything to him. I like my job. Besides, he's a fucking superhero. I'm just… me."

"Just you?" She shook her head lightly and rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, I mean, come on! Look at me!" Holding my arms out, I swayed from side to side. I never liked to draw attention to my body, but apparently she needed the extra visual.

Natasha arched her eyebrow. "I am looking."

She was good, but I couldn't to give up that easily. "Yes, and then you clearly see that I'm ordinary. People like him don't fall for people like me. He's too perfect for that."

"Perf… perfect?" She snorted. "Y/N, Bucky's a mess. He's basically a cucumber with anxiety. Damn, you really have it bad if –"

"I know he has issues. You all do. I'm the one booking everybody's therapy sessions, remember? I'm not talking about his trauma. I'm talking about the fact that he's sweet as a marshmallow and his smile could power a small European country if Stark only found a way to harness its brilliance –"

"And the fact that he's got those broad shoulders and could probably lift and throw a bus if he wanted…"

"And that," I nodded, rubbing the back of my neck to stop that annoying heat from spreading even more. That was a delicious picture, alright. "But I'm nothing special."

"Y/N, sweetie, what are you talking about? You know everything, who's supposed to be where, what we're doing, when we come and go – that's practically a superpower right there. Don't downplay yourself."

The laughter came out dry and humourless. She had to be kidding. Being organised and good at puzzles wasn't exactly rocket science. And besides, I didn't even have a good memory. Without my trusty calendar and phone I'd be running around like Hei-Hei.

"Appreciate your confidence in me, but I don't think so, Nat," I countered and repeated: "Please don't tell him."

She sighed. "I won't."

I tilted my head and put on my best mom-voice. "Promise me."

Her shoulders slumped forward, and she lifted her hand in the air. "I promise I will never tell James Buchanan Barnes about your crush." There was a small pause. "Partypooper!"

"Who's a partypooper?"

I yelped and spun around, looking into Tony's smiling face. "Oh my god, Tony, I mean, Mr Stark." Why did he have to be so stealthy? A big, flashy guy like him ought to be required to announce his arrival with trumpets and drums. Through my galloping heartbeats I noted the glasses were new though, and wondered what kind of new tech they really were. They suited him.

He smirked. “Not the first time a lady has said that to me. But you didn’t answer my question.”

Exhaling, I closed my eyes, just barely resisting the urge to pinch my nose – or maybe kick him in the shin as a diversion. This was going to hell with the express train. “No one. No one's a partypooper.”

“Really?” He turned to Natasha. “Nat?”

I shook my head vigorously, bringing forth all malice I had to my eyes, which I have been told is substantial.

"Y/N has a crush and –"

"Ooh, is it me?" He winked and wiggled his eyebrows.

That made me laugh. "What? Oh, god no." Then I immediately felt bad for my reaction.

"Okay, a little bit insulted, but whatever…"

"She won't let me tell Bucky that she's in love with him," Natasha continued as if she had never been interrupted.

Tony gasped, a look of absolute delight in his eyes.

It was as if the ground disappeared beneath me. A rush of adrenaline almost knocked me off my feet. "Natasha! You promised."

She shrugged and pointed at Tony. "I promised not to tell Bucky. Last I checked, that is not him."

This time I did pinch the bridge of my nose and exhaled deeply, then groaned silently. “Nat!” Even I could hear the desperation in my voice. “Sargent Barnes is a friend. Well, uh, a colleague. Of sorts. I do not -“

“So you didn’t just squeak and burst into flames when he came through that door, huh?” She pointed to the glass door with a grin on her face.

Yeah, this was definitely a torture-the-handler day. Though Natasha was right about my crush, of course, and I wasn't even sure it was just a crush anymore; it had lasted for far too long to be called a crush, I had to keep a professional relationship with all of them.

Truth be told I had had a crush on Bucky since the day we were introduced, but I remembered the exact moment I had fallen in love: it was a chilly spring evening about a year ago. The team had decided to go out to eat, Wanda had discovered a new restaurant downtown, and the food supposedly was to die for. I couldn’t remember what I ate, or if I even liked it, but I remembered the knitted cardigan Bucky wore, the one with the colourful pattern on it. It looked really soft, and I found myself longing to touch it. That wasn’t the moment, though. The exact moment that made me go “Oh shit!” was when I cracked some stupid dad joke, and Bucky unleashed his full laughter on me. Who knew that "Singing in the shower is fun until you get soap in your mouth. Then it's a soap opera," would be my doom? But the sound had stunned me, made me lose my voice for several minutes. If someone had opened my skull at that moment, the only thing they would have found was an empty space and a dial tone - my brain frantically trying to reconnect with my body. If I concentrated I could still hear the ringing in my ears.

I avoided him for a week afterwards - well, tried and failed; my work meant contact with the entire Avengers team at all times - but the mental distance hurt too much to keep up with it. Since then, I allowed the realisation to wash over me, causing me both joy and suffering. And I thought I hid it well. Not well enough, apparently, since Natasha sniffed it out. I resisted the urge to close my eyes and sigh again. However, I couldn’t stop my intestines from curling into a tight ball. She had brought Tony into this after all.

Tony’s eyes shone. It had been a long time since any drama unfurled in the compound. He was practically starved, and this… This was delicious.

Looking between them, I knew this wouldn't end well. "You know what? I'm gonna go set up the briefing. Room 705. Thirty minutes. Don't be late." Fishing the phone out of my pocket, I sent a group text to everyone with time and location. In afterthought the wording in the text might have been a tad too harsh, threatening bodily harm if they were late, but the start of the day warranted some sort of reaction leaking from my brain. I locked eyes with Natasha. "Not. A. Word!"

She nodded, but the grin never left her face.

Tony watched me frantically push the elevator button, and I caught him whispering, not knowing I could still hear him. Or maybe he didn't care. "So what's your plan?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you have a plan? You're the resident match-maker here, aren't you?"

Nastasha let out a small laugh. "Do you know why she refuses to do anything about it?"

Tony nodded. “Because she’s professional and a bit afraid for what the people at the top are going to say?”

“No. Well, probably that too, but she thinks Bucky is way out of her league. Something about him being a superhero.” She snorted.

“What?” Tony let out a barking laugh. “Why? Bucky’s like the most timid ex-assassin you can find. I mean, he’s basically a cup of soft serve covered in salt and liquorice."

“I know. We gotta get them together. So, uh, are you in?”

“Uh, yeah! What’s your plan?”

The room finally sealed itself around me and I heard nothing else than the back of my head banging against the mirror wall and F.R.I.D.A.Y. cheerfully announcing what floor I was going to.

Half an hour later I had to step out for a bit to fetch a new cable to the projector, and when I got back, almost everyone were seated. My chest hollowed when I spotted Tony and Natasha sitting together, looking very conspiring indeed.

The urge to either run from the room or break them up rose in my throat, but instead I pulled up a chair next to Sam and focused on my breathing. He was one of the most calming people on the team, and I shamelessly used him as a shield.

Other than the small scare in the beginning, the morning briefing went without hitch. Agent Hill presented the upcoming missions, and I marked my calendar accordingly. Apparently SHIELD had detected a new terrorist group forming in northern Europe, and needed eyes.

Natasha was a given, she could go undetected for longer periods of time, and could take care of herself if necessary. Of course, Clint would come with her. They were an amazing team together, and he would probably go anyway, even if he was assigned to another task. It was better just to let him.

Steve and Sam would step in if it came to that, but would have to keep under the radar until they were needed. Bucky would travel to Europe with the others, but I knew he would set off alone the minute they touched ground in Stockholm. He worked best alone, or so he claimed, and anyway it would be an advantage to spread out. Still, I made a note on my pad to make sure he had everything he needed, and then some. Who knew where his road might lead him.

Bruce and Tony would work together to develop a better algorithm for the surveillance. So far, the terrorist group had evaded SHIELD's best efforts to pin them down. I was actually surprised to learn they didn't even know their name, which made me suspect something big was coming.

The rest of the team was assigned to other, smaller missions, scattered across the States. That way they could easily be reassigned if the situation escalated in Europe.

During the meeting, I kept an extra eye on Natasha and Tony. They sat next to each other, and though I thought I saw them passing notes a couple of times, I didn't want to bring any attention to it. The rest of the group looked oblivious. A sigh of relief escaped me, and Natasha looked up. She nodded imperceptibly towards Bucky, who sat with a bored look on his face and a discarded towel by his feet.

I narrowed my eyes and shook my head, trying my best to stop my ears from buzzing. Suddenly aware of every molecule in the air and trying desperately to ignore the intense weight, I focused all my attention back on Agent Hill’s presentation. Still, Bucky’s presence lingered in the back of my head, and together with the imminent threat from Natasha and Tony, I felt like I was sitting on explosives.

When Maria finally closed her laptop and turned to Director Fury, everybody got up, chatting as if the meeting had been a regular parent-teacher meeting and not a brief on a possible terrorist organisation on the rise.

“Can you believe that people will do things like this?” an agent asked as we all filed out of the room.

“Well, faith is a strong persuader,” I replied with a shrug. “Some are willing to go far for what they believe in.”

“Yeah, but they’re wrong,” the agent continued.

“They’d probably say the same about us,” Sam said, and I nodded.

“There are always two sides to the coin. If not more.”

“But -“

“And then it’s up to us to figure out what to do. We have to look at the big picture. Not everyone is capable of that.” Sam tilted his head with a look of disappointment in his eyes.

The agent huffed and hurried off with a look on his face that either said that he was constipated, or that being schooled by a member of the Avengers was too much for a Wednesday morning.

“Not sure he saw the big picture, Sam.” I shook my head and smiled.

“Don’t think he could. Better hope he doesn’t get promoted soon.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. He’ll be on desk duty for years still. And I guess you have a little desk duty yourself right now?”

“Well, actually… I was hoping you could do me a favour.”

Uh-oh. That sounded ominous. “Of course. What can I do, what do you need?” My voice rose to mimic the retail job I had before I got lucky enough to join SHIELD's training and ultimately land my dream job.

Sam grimaced. "I gotta go to Louisiana. Just a short trip, couple of days maybe."

"Shit, don't think Director Fury would be too happy about that right now, not to mention the rest of upstairs. You're supposed to be on silent duty until you leave for Sweden."

"Yeah, I know that, it's just… Cass and AJ has been asking me to come visit. And Sarah's getting sick of their nagging. Also, I sorta promised on the phone yesterday. Didn't know there would be a world crisis today."

Smiling softly, I hid the urge to smack my face into the wall. This was going to take a lot of explaining and string-pulling. He was supposed to go no-contact for the duration of the mission, but I hated disappointing the boys. And Sarah was a good woman. She didn't deserve being let down, even though it technically wasn't Sam's fault this time.

"Sam, you're such a softie," I said after some consideration. "Go. I'll figure something out. Just be back before the weekend, okay? And –"

"Yeah yeah, and I'll come in at once if the situation escalates before we're scheduled to head out."

I gave him a crooked smile to disguise the trouble he had just handed me. "Sure. But I was gonna say bring back some of that pecan pie. I've been dreaming about that since last summer."

Sam let out a loud laugh and kissed the top of my head, melting my nervous soul to a gooey puddle. "You're the best. Thanks."

"Fly safe."

"I always do."

"Really now?"

"Oh so that's how it is, huh?"

"That's how it is. Say 'hi' to Sarah for me."

With a short wave, he took off down the corridor, leaving me quietly screaming and already doing the mental gymnastics to find a solution.

***

Departure time was in two days. Everyone was on edge, trying their best to prepare for any eventualities, both inconceivable and expected. After a short meeting with the departure crew to share the last pieces of intel, I felt empty and tired. Missions always affected me more than they should. These people were my friends; if anything were to happen to them, my world would collapse.

Apparently I wasn't the only one feeling a bit drained. No one was in a hurry to leave, and the conversation was hushed and weary.

"You know what we need?" Tony said loudly, slicing through the silence and winking to Natasha. He thought I wouldn't notice, but I did, and the suspicion grew in my chest. What now?

"Pizza!" they said in unison. "We should gather everyone, before we all go."

Tony nudged my arm. "My treat. What do you say?"

Narrowing my eyes, I tilted my head. "…sure."

"Oh, don't be like that. We all need good pizza. Especially today, what with all this rain. Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y., you know that pizza bakery up the street, the one with the chicken one. Order pizza for everyone. Remember the one with pear, brie, and white sauce. Have it delivered to the lounge."

That did it for me. If he ordered my favourite, I'd be damn sure to eat my part. "When?"

"Uh…" He looked at his watch. "Noon. I'll send out a ping. Don't worry about it."

"Thanks. I do have a ton of things to do to make sure you guys don't die on this trip." I tried to keep it light, but now that the thought had settled in my mind, I had to fight off the tears. It was a miracle I managed to keep the tremble from my voice.

An hour later I tripped over the doorstep to the lounge, surprised to see it was empty except for Tony and Natasha and a huge stack of pizzas. "Where is everybody?" The door clicked behind me, sealing the silence in.

Natasha shrugged. "Late?"

At that moment the door opened again and Bucky sauntered in with a mischievous smile on his face. "Gimme the pizza and nobody gets hurt."

"Jeez, Buck. Remember your manners. There are ladies present." Tony grinned, but opened the top box and helped himself to a slice.

Bucky snickered and rolled his eyes. "Sorry, Y/N," he said with an over-the-top flourish. "I hope you can forgive my insolence." He gestured towards the pizzas. "Ladies first."

My heart did a somersault, but I managed to keep it cool on the outside. "Insolence forgiven," I replied, swallowing a hiccough that lodged itself in my throat, before taking a plate and sifting through the boxes until I found the right one. Loading my plate, I sat down, sinking into the soft cushions. Only thing missing now was some candles and a drink, and I'd be set for the day.

Natasha gave Tony a pointed look. Two minutes later he picked up his phone and half jogged out the door. That was odd. Tony never jogged.

I looked between Natasha and the door, the pizza forgotten halfway between the plate and my mouth. She looked anywhere but at me, but was saved from a confrontation by her phone ringing. "Gotta take this," she muttered. "Can't prepare enough for the trip." She smiled apologetically and left the room. That was a lie, of course. She had full control; all intel was already read and destroyed. And if something new had come up, I would have been notified too.

Suddenly the plate felt heavy in my hand. Maybe it was naïve, but I had expected Natasha and Tony to respect my wishes; after all I had made it absolutely clear that they should leave it, hadn't I? Their amusement and entertainment wasn't worth being an inconvenience to Bucky.

"What's going on?" Bucky asked when the door clicked behind Natasha.

"I… I don't know," I lied haltingly.

Bucky shrugged. "Oh well. Might as well catch up on some paperwork before the flight too. See you later." With one slice between his teeth and another in his hand, he left the room with a friendly wave.

"Sure. See you." I spoke to his back; the glass door had already closed behind him. The lump in my throat grew. Even though Tony had ordered my favourite pizza, I no longer had any appetite. My mouth was dry, and it was a struggle to swallow. In a fit of frustration, I kicked the table, smacking my toe in the process. The pizza slice slid from the plate and landed on my thigh. "Fuck!"

"Ooh, pizza!"

I spun in my seat. Steve had just arrived, and that made me feel a little bit better at least. He was always a laugh.

"Where is everybody?" He looked around and spotted my moping figure, holding an equally sad slice of pizza. "You okay?"

"I guess," I replied, trying to smile and failing miserably. "Everybody else left. The mission, yeah?"

"Right. I thought everything was planned and okayed."

I couldn't bring myself to fill him in on the situation. If he didn't already know, it was nice to have someone neutral by my side. "Yeah, I don't know."

Their scheme was becoming clear; making Bucky spend time with me alone. But it was a failure. Even he thought it was awkward, and he obviously didn't want to be alone with me. Not that I blamed him. If I was him, I'd do the same.

I glanced at my watch. 12.30. Just then Sam, Bruce, Wanda, and Vision spilled into the room, heading towards the pizza like a herd of hungry goats. Slowly my appetite returned too, and half an hour later the blow to my heart was a painful memory pushed to the back of my mind by excellent pizza and wonderful friends.

Later that day I ran into Tony on the way to the garage. He tried to slip past me, but had to stop when I blocked the door, arms crossed over my chest and puffing myself up as much as I could. "Seriously, Tony! What did you expect to happen, huh? That I'd just throw myself in his arms because we were alone? Because newsflash: I've got both self-control and decency. Do you really think I've never been alone with him before?"

At least he had the decency to look thoroughly chastised, and he mumbled something inaudible I thought maybe sounded like an apology.

No way he was getting away with a tiny one. "What was that? I couldn't quite hear you."

"It was Nat's idea," he said, trying a smirk that didn't work at all.

"I very much doubt that," I replied, dragging a hand over my eyes. "Do I have to call Pepper? I didn't think so," I added when he shook his head. "Do better! Now excuse me. I have a lot of work to do to ensure you actually don't die on this mission." With a final, exaggerated frown, I turned and marched out of the room, ignoring the samba in my chest.

Part 2: Eel infested waters

[thegingeralien]

Thought I might share my “doing homework with adhd” tips in case the might help even just one person (because that would make me feel happy).

Who am I to be giving you advice? Good point! I am still terrible at studying and I’m 26 and at University for the millionth time. But I have studied A LOT in my 22 years of schooling with varying degrees of success.

I see a lot of people, especially teenagers or first year university/college students, with ADHD asking for tips on how to study. But if you do a google search most of the websites and advice that comes up can be extremely ableist. So I hope I can help someone!

TIPS TO HELP YOU STUDY WHEN YOU HAVE AN ADHD GREMLIN BRAIN!:

1. Chewing gum!

- This might come across as a weird one, but it has actually really helped me. I use it as a form of stimming to help keep me focused and concentrating. Other forms of stimming can potentially end up being more of a distraction when you actually need to be reading or writing - but they can help if you just need to be listening. Try not to get a bubble gum or fun flavoured one though - as they can end up making your mouth feel dry, lose flavour quickly, and just give your brain way too many sensory things to become distracted with.

2. Buying colour coded stationary!

- New stationary can make me really excited to start studying, but that excitement never lasts long and the act of buying stationary can sometimes become it’s own hobby. That’s not what we are going for here. I really recommend, especially if you are a visual learner like me, to buy colour coded stationary. This means removable page markers, different coloured post it notes, highlighters, sometimes even pens. This way if your mind jumps from one topic to the other, it doesn’t matter. Go with the flow. Forcing your ADHD gremlin brain to focus can be extremely counter intuitive. So pick a colour for each topic, and stick to that system to find organisation among your own chaos!

3. Buy a really cheap, boring year diary with hardly any writing inside.

- Not sure if your school/university has their own diary but they can be perfect for what I am on about. Generally you can find them for really cheap, soft cover, no writing or designs within the dates. Just dates, days, weeks and lines where you can write your homework. This helped me a lot in High School. I wish I had kept doing it in University, but I am good with giving advice, and not so much with taking it. I used to decorate the outside of it however I wanted. Some years I would redecorate the same diary every semester. In the public holidays or holiday days I would colour those lines in with different highlighters to make it look like a rainbow. But every assignment due date, homework, draft, rewrite, form I had to bring back, library book due date, school activity days, ANYTHING to do with school I would write in there with reminds and check lists. Important due dates would be highlighted, general homework and daily to do lists t(o help me not leave my assignments to the last minute) would have a tick box beside them (because ticking tick boxes is free dopamine). Try to not put birthdays or fun things in it. This is a small way to stay on track so it helps you actually stay on track with the big things when you’re home.

4. Big whiteboards stuck on the wall where you can’t avoid it.

- This is not something I had in school, but I so wish I did. I have been using this recently to keep on top of house work (as maintaining your own house is tiring) and my small business or other things I really can’t avoid. If I physically write it down (not just in my phone) it psychologically does help you commit it to memory. Again, physically putting a line through a task you just completed is a hecking great rush of dopamine. But the biggest reason I love my white board, I can’t ignore it. It is stuck to the wall and is never out of sight, out of mind. I can’t put my phone or diary down and then refuse to look at it until I’m past the due date. Again, I’m not a perfect person, there are days where I don’t do anything I have written on the white board. But the great thing is, I don’t have to continuously feel like I failure, as I can wipe it all off the next morning or week and start fresh. I also put important things I have to remember that I’m doing during the week so I don’t forget them.

5. Icky Medication.

- I know not everyone wants to be on medication, and I understand. I am not forcing you to. No matter what your opinions are, you lovely gremlin who is still reading this post, regarding medication, you are valid and I respect you. My personal experience with medication has not been the best. I have been misdiagnosed for a severe chunk of my academic life which has seen me trying to focus and maintain school work under some even worse states then I am unmedicated! However, since receiving my diagnosis and finding the right ADHD medication for me, I have the ability to get so much work done without having to unnecessarily struggle. It’s unfortunately not magic, it will not turn me into a robot that makes me do work and turn out incredible, noble peace prize winning assignments (as much as I wish that were possible). I still have the ability to be a lump, doom scrolling through tumblr, forgetting to eat, and ignoring responsibilities. But it really helps me when I sit down and start that thing that isn’t fun. Yesterday it helped me hyperfocus on cleaning my office which was a terrifying room to be in. So it’s pretty close to magic in my opinion!

6. Accessing Disability Support at your place of learning.

- Not all of you taking the time to read this will have either a) an offical diagnosis or b) a good disability support available to you wherever you are completing your studies. And that is okay. This dot point just won’t be for you right now. But keep it in mind for a time when it might apply to you, as it’s something I never thought I would need, but will never take for granted ever again.

- If you have an offical diagnosis and Disability Support, make an appointment with the disability support adviser. DO IT NOW! Get your psychiatrist to write a diagnosis letter outlining that you have <enter superpower that makes you hilarious here> and that you are receiving <enter x,y,z treatment here> and that you would benefit from receiving <enter what you have always wished you had on the days you can’t make your ADHD gremlin brain do the thing here>. Now these benefits can be, but not limit to: automatic extensions on ALL assignments, extra time on exams, extra breaks to walk around while taking exams, special consideration when marking assignments, my university allows me to take exams in a separate room with only the other students in my subject who also have disability support (occasionally I have taken an exam alone with only a tutor present) so I don’t get distracted, permission to take fidget items into class or exam (I have the option to wear headphones, as long as I can display that they are not connected to anything). Maybe you can come up with some great ones for you with your disability advisor or your psychiatrist.

- The disability advisor will often go through your course outline with you at the start of each semester or year. This is annoying and a great time for disassociating, but can be useful in hindsight because you are made aware of everything that will come up during your class so you are not surprised. Because lets be honest, it is unlikely you are going to look at the course calendar too often.

- Side Note: I make an appointment every semester with my disability support officer for my area of study to make sure I have my special considerations for the year. Now I may go through the whole year without ever using my considerations. However, the fact that I know they are there takes an insane amount of pressure off of myself. If I’m having an insanely screwy loony tune mental health moment, I can email my coordinator my disability plan and say I need an extension due to personal reasons, and WHOOP, there it izzzzz.

7. Dedicated one thing or a few things that have nothing to do with food/alcohol/other substances to reward yourself with for doing the thing!

- This may not work for everyone. It doesn’t always work for me. I used to reward myself with food, but that only reinforced my stimming with overeating and my already bad relationship with food. And I feel as though that would be the same with any other substance that can be linked with addiction. (Addiction is a tough word, cause what aren’t I addicted to, I have ADHD, but hopefully you get what I mean!).

-Now, boring try and not choose this aside, lets think of somethings that work really well as rewards!

- My partner likes to come give me a kiss and a hug when ever they have written and reread a paragraph, you might buy a book when you get a really good mark, you might want to go make a cup of tea and watch an episode of your hyperfixation after studying for <enter a good period of time here>, you might allow yourself to partake in an activity you usually do while procrastinating (but at least this time you know you aren’t putting something off), talk to someone who you know will tell you they are proud of you as they understand the mental struggle you go through to concentrate (if you can’t think of anyone, it is 110% okay if that person are the amazing people on tumblr or the adhd tumblr chats. We will freaking pop a bottle of champagne for you cause we get it!).

- Try and make what ever you choose be something in a different room or away from your working space. Getting out can really calm you down.

8. Don’t be afraid to ask for assistance.

- This is true for anything, but I don’t mean just asking your teacher to give you extra help understanding the task and marking rubric. Many people online, tutors, librarians at your school, past or present students offer assistance rereading and making small edits (they won’t make it magical unfortunately) to your assignments. If you are like me and once you have written or completed the dreaded thing, you can not imagine or force your gremlin brain reread or edit the thing. So it can help to just delegate this to someone else, who hasn’t read it before, so they won’t disassociate or skim read it. They will often notice things you never would have even if you were neurotypical as that is just what happens when you have been working on something for so long.

9. Repetitive music.

- It generally helps if this has no lyrics. Lo-fi is amazing. Classical is alright too if it works for you, but both my partner and I agree that it can really assist you to keep up pace and focus when the beat is a high and repetitive (almost meditative) tempo.

10. Limit your screen space.

- This is a tip completely from my partner @dr-adhd who also has ADHD, is an avid PC gamer and is consistently in a battle with their gremlin brain to focus on completing their PhD. They have discovered that it really helps them to limit their screen space - simply put, work on one screen only. They have done more work more easily when they have their one screen on their laptop to focus on. Whereas their office has multiple screens so they could be playing runescape, watching YouTube, listening to lo-fi and doing work - which never worked (shocking right hahaha).

11. At the risk of sounding like a Mum... Put your phone and other electronics other than the assignment necessary one, away.

- I am a Mum, but to a fluffy puppy dog, so I hate to sound like my Mum when I was in high school, but she was right. Mobiles are the single easiest and biggest distraction in ADHD history. I often, even at coffee shops, have to turn my phone over so that I am not consistently looking at it every time the screen lights up to say the pizza place has sent me a coupon, or a carpet place that has been having a sale since I was born is... still having a sale, or a friend from school wants you to watch this TikTok. Even though you might not want to ignore your friends, because people pleasing, difficulting making/keeping friends and RSD are hecking real things, but they can all wait. Trust me, none of them are urgent. That TikTok will still be funny in an hour or two. And I’m probably completely right when I say that whomever just messaged you, never replies as quickly as you want them too. So I doubt they are going to think twice if you are MIA to finish your thing.

My partner or I might add to this later, but at the moment I already know that I probably wouldn’t read this wall of words if I was the one reading it, so if you are still with me, THANK YOU and I really hope I might have helped you. Sorry for the mound of words, but maybe you can reblog, screen shot, or save this and read a dot point at a time or refer to it when you need. Don’t be afraid to ask questions, I promise what ever it is, I’ve asked the same thing once in my life or something MUCH stupider.

[prfctethereal]

just another horror movie. | james potter

pairing: james potter x reader

chapter: one 

warnings: NSFW, smut, oral (male receiving), exhibitionism, talk of dead bodies, actual dead body, blood, vomiting

word count: 3.7k

read the prologue here or on ao3 here

summary: you and james take a quick detour through the woods, to have a bit of morning fun, but find something gruesome.

Three weeks earlier…

The quiet town of Hogwarts had never been quieter. It was typical though; towns that resided in the countryside of Scotland were often described as “quiet”, unbeknownst to most that it was anything but. Except, Hogwarts lived up to the stereotype. Peaceful, tame, quiet.

Quiet.

God, you needed some quiet.

Exam season was narrowing in, which meant endless nights of caffeine and random studying music that you found on spotify, its main purpose to help you concentrate. It was unfortunate, with the school year coming to a close, but you were determined to leave the year proud and satisfied with your work. Everything was going perfectly so far. Nothing could screw it up.

This is what you told yourself as you began your walk to school this morning. Leaving your house at seven in the morning on the dot had become the regular for you. Now that Summer was finally coming in, the walks were warm, without chilling breezes. You could feel comfortable with the wind in your hair and a light shirt on your back.

Something felt tranquil about this morning in particular. You didn’t feel held up or anxious. You didn’t even feel stressed as you busily organised your school bag this morning. You didn’t even blink an eye when you dropped your chemistry textbook on your foot. You were in a good mood. You were glowing.

Maybe it was because you had been getting some amazing sex from your amazing boyfriend lately.

Maybe.

But today wasn’t for what ifs. Today, you had one thing on your mind. A conversation needed to be had between you and your guidance counsellor, as the prospects of colleges were starting to roll around. Applications were beginning to close and your aspirations for life after high school were beginning to get clearer and clearer. You no longer wanted to be tied down in a small town, where the most important job you could get was at the Mayor’s office, sitting at a desk, listening to the complaints of highly egotistical citizens.

Wasn’t for you.

Your mind drifted off to your could-be life, and before you knew it, your legs had walked to your boyfriend’s house without you even realising. It was something unconscious and natural, something you were completely used to. The sight of the grand, three-story mansion that your lover lived in brought unprecedented comfort.

The spiralling pillars covered in the greenest of vines was something from a fairytale. A pale cerulean was painted across the panelling, giving a dream-like feel. Right above the front door housed a giant window, one that opened up into James’ bedroom.

Right. James.

Walking up the path, you felt comforted by the familiar sound of gravel beneath your feet. It reminded you of all the nights you had snuck up this very path to climb into James’ bedroom via the window. Nostalgic really.

Now you were here in broad daylight, ready to walk hand in hand with your boyfriend to school. Knocking on the front door, you were excited to see a nearly immediate opening of the door, with a very joyous boy standing there. His signature dopey smile glistened even brighter, as his eyes lingered over your clothed body a little longer than expected. His tongue shot out very quickly over the pink cushions of his lips, something you could’ve missed in a blink of an eye, but you didn’t. Laughing, he pushed his glasses up the nose of his bridge, before running his fingers through his unruly hair.

“Should we go then?” It sounded as though it was the first time James had spoken this morning, a fact that you didn’t mind, as your brain thought unholy things when listening to his gravely morning voice.

“Soon.” You mumbled, your voice trailing off slightly, as you stepped towards James, swinging your arms around the back of his neck. Taking a breath of his scent, you leaned forward, placing a delicate kiss upon his lips. They were slightly chapped, but you didn’t care.

It may have been a Summer day, but that wasn’t the only reason you were feeling hot.

Stopping yourself before you went too far, you pulled backwards, not before suggestively running your hands down James’ chest, smirking against his lips. “Come on, let's go.” You remarked playfully, smacking your hand lightly against James’ firm butt, which elicited a short laugh from the bubbly man.

So, hand in hand, you and James darted down his footpath, back into the street. Even more birds had woken up by now, with a choir of chirping serenading your descent into the bustling streets of Hogwarts.

Everything now seemed a little more public than you initially thought. Neighbours were waking up and going to work now too, giving no shorter than five second glances at you and James’ hand intertwined. You know what they would say; old people gossiped too much for your liking. It made you especially nervous, knowing that your parents didn’t know about your illicit relationship. Maybe it should stay that way. Well, before any neighbours get a little too gossipy in the weekly book club meetings.

“Are you listening to me?” James asked, snapping you out of your thoughtful haze. Blinking twice, you returned your attention to James, who’s eyes were laced with concern as he looked you over once again, eyebrows furrowed. “You seem out of it.”

“Oh, sorry.” Your voice came out almost silently as you looked away, flushed and embarrassed. “What were you talking about?”

“How I was going to fuck you so hard later today that you are going to struggle to walk.” James followed his statement with a dash of laughter, something that you mimicked like a pirate’s parrot.

“Well, I hope that’s not a joke, my dear.” You flashed a sly smile, looking James up and down. You both stopped walking, with James now admiring the way you were biting your lip, as if you were a siren trying to entrap him. Surely, you guys wouldn’t quickly dash away into the bush and go for a quickie right now, right?

James thought about it too, eyeing up someone’s poor hydrangea bush. Unfortunately, there would be too many witnesses, and exhibitionism wasn’t something you had both openly discussed before, although it wasn’t completely off the table.

“Lunch period.” James finally said, stopping his momentary halt, and marching forward.

“Lunch period?”

James leaned over, pressing his lips so close to your ear. His hot breath sent shivers down your spine, ones that ended in your core. “Meet me in the hallway between the chemistry and physics lab. I think there’s a new cupboard we could Christen.”

Giggling in excitement, you rubbed your fingers up the length of James’ arm, tugging him down the footpath, continuing your conversation about whatever. You learnt that he had a History test today, all about women earning the right to vote. You sighed as you listened to him talk about what he was passionate about, his stressed vowel sounds turning you on more than you would’ve thought.

Then came a predicament. An actual, real life crossroad. Right in front of you was where the footpath curved to the left, following along the road onto the main road through town. It was the way you went every day, with the road taking you directly to school when you walked along it, arriving perfectly at seven twenty-five every day. It was ideal.

This morning, though, you were feeling cheeky. From this footpath curve was another opportunity. The footpath also opened into a dirt path, something that twisted into the woods, or, as the conspiracy theorists of the town called it, the Forbidden Forest. It was hardly forbidden though; they literally took Scouts classes there, and those have kids as young as seven in them.

Feeling devilish, you paused James for a moment, the cogs turning over in your brain. You might arrive at school a little later than you first thought, but at least you would have some distance between the prying eyes of the Hogwarts neighbourhood. And maybe, you could have a little bit of fun too.

“James,” you smirked, tugging at the edge of his shirt, capturing his attention, something that wasn’t actually that hard to do, “shall we go for a detour this morning?”

Your eyes flashed over the forest and onto the quiet stillness of it. You could feel James’ heart rate speed up, but it wasn’t because he was scared. He was just as excited as you. It was like a switch had flicked on in his brain, although he was still hesitant, his feet still planted firmly on the ground.

“Are you sure?” James questioned. “How late is this going to make us?”

“Not that late at all.” You justified, mocking offence. “Oh, we should get there at maybe, quarter to eight? And besides, it’s fresh air, it’ll be good for us, and our lungs. Think of it as reversing the side effects of being around Sirius and Remus when they smoke all the time. Your lungs will thank us.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works.” James laughed.

“How would you be so sure?”

“I’m the one that takes biology out of the two of us.”

You had to try another tactic, so, you jutted your bottom lip out of your mouth, putting on your best doe eyes, hoping you could flutter your eyelashes enough for him to give into temptation. “Please?”

A sigh escaped James lips as he seemed to give in. His reluctant look of worry was quickly replaced by an eager spark. Knitting his fingers in with yours, you two walked hand and hand together down the dirt path. The change of feeling beneath your feet was almost instantly recognisable, the normal, smooth, concrete path replaced by the rough dirt, and slight mud, even though it hadn't rained in days.

As you continued to wander down the path, you were suddenly covered in a canopy of shade, as the trees of the forest soon covered your heads. The route got a tad darker, the path no longer illuminated with the light of the sun, not that you minded though. You could still easily see where you were going.

You felt a little colder without the extra heat from the sun. You didn’t like the way goosebumps rose on your skin or the way you had to rub your hands along your arm to keep yourself warm. You felt out of control, a feeling of which you loathed. You didn’t want your perfect morning to be ruined by a little chill.

When you reached a tall, winding tree, you stopped James from his walk, pulling him off the path. Luckily, you had spotted a small dip in the earth, perfect to stay in, somewhere where regular bystanders wouldn’t find you. Happy with your discovery, you looked back at James, who had a puzzled look across his face.

“What’s going on?”

“Can I kiss you?” You asked breathlessly, your hands already getting fidgety. You wanted to be connected with James again, intertwined if you will. You needed to feel his skin, even if it was barely quarter past seven in the morning.

“Yes, love.” James breathed out, his voice quiet and shallow. WIth the consent, you leaned upwards, connecting your lips at last. It felt right to be pressed up against each other once again, even if it had been only yesterday when you had last felt such passion.

You deepened the kiss, feeling urgent to make the most of the short time you had together. Your mouths melded together almost perfectly, your lips pushing against each other like a playful pillow fight, one which you were determined to win.

Feeling mischievous, you reached to James’ hair, tugging lightly on his roots, an action you knew he liked. This action got the response you wanted from him, a needy moan, in which you took the opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth, battling it out with his own, regaining confidence and dominance.

You pulled away, your cheeks flushed from the lack of oxygen. James looked disheveled but pleased, wanting to continue your little make out session, but unfortunately, you had limited time.

“Can I suck you off?” You whispered against his mouth innocently, looking up at his hazel eyes, brushing his hair off of his forehead. You could hear him gulp with nervousness, before nodding quickly, his hands making their way to his slacks.

You knew James was slipping into a mindset clouded by arousal, so you sank to your knees slowly in front of him, still looking up at him through your long lashes. On your journey downwards, you carefully unzipped the zipper on his pants, pulling them down to ankles, until he was clad in only his boxers.

Lifting yourself up slightly onto the balls of your feet, you kissed him lightly on the outside of his boxers, feathering gentle kisses. You knew you were being a tease, but you needed him nice and hard. As you felt his bulge setting like cement under your lips, you lifted your hands up, joining your lips so you could palm him, stroking the material.

When James started moaning, - “oh please, stop teasing, I beg you,” - you released him from the cage of his underwear, dragging the clothing down the apex of his things, watching the muscles twitch in excitement. There, James’ half hard cock laid against his thighs, the tip a gentle rouge colour.

Your fingers grazed over his prick, lightly tracing a prominent vein of the underside of the sex muscle. James groaned in pleasure, the teasing getting too much for him to handle. Feeling benevolent, you dribbled saliva over the tip of the cock, before wrapping your entire hand around it. You started stroking harder and faster, making sure James could feel all of you in a way you hand. He was starting to fall apart above you, but it wasn;t enough.

“So- so good.” James murmured, his eyes gently shutting as he became lost in the feeling. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop. I love your hands, so perfect, so precise. Perfect for me, precise for me.”

“It was like you were made for me.” You agreed with the raven haired boy, before bringing your lips down to the tip of his penis. This action shocked James, but the whimper out of his mouth made you know he was enjoying it. Living from the excitement of the exhibisionist route, you swiveled your tongue across the tip, reaching down the length of the cock, savouring his taste.

“Right there.” James moane, as you brung the rest of your mouth down over his now fully hard cock, reveling in the flavour of the salty precum that was leaking from his angry tip. With a smooth rhythm, you bobbed your head up and down on James’ cock, the sound of his moans itching you on.

You knew you were running out of time, and you still wanted him to cum, so you sped up your movements on James’ cock, stroking the base of his cock, which could not fit in your mouth. Adding to the pleasure, you let your hands move downwards a bit more, so they played gently with James’ hanging balls.

This applied pressure was becoming too much for James, as his breath became laboured and a tingling feeling was nearly bursting at his cock. “I’m gonna cum, please, I’m going to do it.”

You lifted your mouth off of James’ cock, just to murmur, “let go.” James, with your permission, spurted his cum across your hands. Eager to savour him, you opened your mouth, catching as much of the milking substance as possible, not wanting to waste any of it. Jacking James off through the entire thing, you watched as his orgasm crashed over him entirely, the way his face contorted in pleasure almost being the most beautiful portrait to you.

Licking the rest of his cum off of your fingers, you stood up, wiping your knees off, as the dirt sticking to you was becoming slightly uncomfortable. While you stood up, you reached from the top of James’ pants, pulling them upwards as you went.

“Thanks.” James almost laughed, except he still sounded out of breath, which was very reasonable though. You did just suck the life out of him. His fingers worked quickly, rearranging his pants, and cock, so that you both could continue on your way to school.

As you waited for James to finish cleaning himself up, your nose turned upwards. There was a strange smell coming from the area, one you didn’t notice before when you were on your knees in front of James. It was a smell that you were relatively unfamiliar with, but all you knew was that it stank like rotten meat.

“Can you smell that?” You asked James, looking off into the little ditch you were beside. Wherever you were, it seemed that it had been recently disturbed. Broken twigs snapped into pieces laid amongst crunched up leaves. If you squinted, you were sure you could even make out that faintest of footprints on the ground. It was odd, but nothing you haven't seen before in the woods. The smell on the other hand…

“Smells like thrown out vegetables.” James readjusted his glasses before holding out his hand, inviting you to close your fingers in with his. “I bet some old granny thought it would be a good idea to throw out their compost in the woods. If the council found out, they would have a fit. You know all about their weirdly tight rules on littering? It’s not even bad for the environment.”

You had stopped listening a while ago. Something didn’t feel right, but it was nothing you could sort out now. You weren’t satisfied but you turned back towards James anyway, knowing that you needed to head off to school or you would be running a little bit behind schedule. As you turned around, you noticed James’ face morph from a cheeky grin to a concerned frown.

“What is it?” You pondered, stepping towards James, matching his pear-shaped frown with one of your own.

“Did you cut yourself when you were on your knees?”

“Huh?”

“Look.” James bent down to look at your knees and you turned your head down too. What you thought had just been a bit of dirt must’ve been something else. Your knees were covered in a browny-red, maybe a maroon colour. It looked as though your entire knee had been cut open, as blood was still dripping from your skin, but that couldn’t be right. You felt no pain on your knee. You hadn’t cut yourself.

Swiping your fingers across your knee, you gathered some of the drying blood on your fingers. This was the first time you had looked at your hands since you wiped off your knees before and you saw that you had smudged blood stains all across your palm. You nearly barfed on the spot. You felt incredibly uneasy, like a stormy ocean filled your stomach.

You lifted your fingers up to your nose, a theory hypothesising into your head, and you were right. The smell of the blood matched the rotten meat smell you could smell before. As if you were a dog, the odor latched onto your nose and expanded, its putrid smell being the only thing in your senses.

“I'm going to be sick.” You doubled over a rock. Resting your hand against a boulder, you hovered downwards over a patch of leaves, letting your breakfast out. Your head was reeling as you could still smell the retching odor of the old blood. You couldn’t get it out of your mind, so you leaned over again, round two of the hurling intervention.

James rushed over to you, placing his warm hands on your back, rubbing soothing circles. He wished he could say that his main focus was to make you feel better, but it wasn’t. Over in the deepest part of the dish, he noticed something strange. It was almost like a small lump in the ground, something unnatural. It seemed to be covered very messily by old leaves and sticks, and an entire tree branch, as if it would make it any less inconspicuous. It even had that opposite of the desired effect, seemingly sticking out like a sore thumb.

“Darling,” James waited until you lifted your head back up, regaining your breath once again, “what do you think that is?”

James’ hand pointed into the direction of the ditch, in which you followed his eyesight and body movements. You could see it too; just a lump in the ground. Your mind was racing of what it could be. A dead animal? A pile of rotten food? Maybe a…

“Holy shit!” You had only just realised that James had already walked over there, except his body was covering your eye line, and you couldn’t actually see what James had found. Although, he told you immediately. “Quick, call the police. It’s a body.”

A dead body in Hogwarts? Making sure you didn’t lose any more of your stomach through puking, you rushed onto the path in the woods, grabbing your phone out of your pocket, hoping you could get service all the way out here in the woods. Fumbling to turn your phone on, you nearly groaned out in annoyance when you saw that you were getting no bars of service.

Running back to James, you couldn’t stop at the moment. You called out to him, your words a blurred mess, trying to convey to him that you were going to find someone to help. Unsure if he had even heard you, you ran back down the path, your feet carrying you to where you needed to go, unable to bring yourself to a cohesive thought.

When you exited the forest, you flicked your head around, trying to find someone, anyone, that could help in the moment. The first person you saw was your calculus teacher, Mr Slughorn, to which you promptly called out to.

“Mr Slughorn!” You cupped your hands around your mouth to project your words across louder. Mr Slughorn snapped his head around and gave a friendly wave. Annoyed, you shook your head. “Call the police!”

“What?” He called back, walking towards you now. You groaned, trying again.

“There's a dead body in the forest. Call the police!”

***

lmao. anyway this has become a series whoops.

[kalee60]

If it inspires you... maybe you could write an established relationship Steve and Bucky where they are completely in sync when it comes to the battle field and the kitchen but there’s one place they are like fumbling idiots. I don’t know where. No hard feelings if this sparks no ideas lol 😂💖💖💖

Oh Kay - this wonderful prompt you gifted me could have gone in so many different directions. And it most definitely inspired me to write something...

But it's neither a clever take on your words or a twisted storyline, therefore I have no apologies and I went the obvious route when filling your idea 😂 (why does my brain always try and get these boys naked?)

So this turned into something a little longer (of course), a little more ridiculous than anticipated, and features some very well intentioned Avengers and two idiots helplessly inept in love...

The fic made it to almost 5.5k and is also on ao3 here (with all tags necessary) if you prefer to read there instead, it'll be part of my stucky bingo fills - 'Sex Magic' and rated E for explicit sexual content 😉 so proceed below with caution...

Oh it's also the first time I've ever tried established relationship... hopefully I've pulled it off!

Steve was happy. 

He finally had a home to call his own, a brilliant team of coworkers, a place in the future and he had Bucky Barnes. After more years than Steve could count, Bucky and he had finally found themselves on the same page - different century, but on even ground. They’d kissed in the heat of the moment after a brutal mission, stated their affections clearly and decided after a breathless confession - to give forever a go.

Having been on the battlefield together for years, Bucky at his six and always there for Steve when he needed, and Steve, having had Bucky’s back no matter the situation (or trouble it got him into) - meant they had a solid base to grow from. And as soon as Sam took over the mantle of Cap, Steve was free to be himself for once, and although Nomad made appearances on the odd occasion, he and Bucky still fought flawlessly together, seamlessly, almost at one in their movements.

It was magical.

But not only were they in sync when under pressure and danger, that same energy continued into their modest but homely kitchen in their brownstone as they unlearned that boiling was the only way to prepare food. They wove around each other, hot pans and knives flashing in a dance as intricate as fighting while they spun about the kitchen, preparing dish after dish, including sweet treats for themselves and cat treats for Alpine.

Bucky and Steve were essentially one unit, an extension of the other in every aspect of their lives - except one…

They’d shared their first kiss, a declaration of intent less than a month earlier on the battlefield in the midst of chaos, and Steve had never felt sweeter lips against his. But it wasn't just the kiss that floored him, it was the all-consuming knowledge that Bucky was his, would always be his, that they were made for each other - that's what made it a perfect moment.

Afterwards, when they'd arrived home tired from the week-long operation, 'congratulations' and 'about times' ringing in their ears, they sat on the sofa staring at the other until Steve leant in, cupping Bucky’s cheek and slowly pressed forward. Bucky having the same idea, lurched up and they smacked heads hard enough to see stars. Chuckling with small smiles, they tried again, with Steve accidentally biting Bucky's tongue, and the third was a kiss so awkward and sloppy, it made Steve feel like a thirteen year old practising on the back of his hand again.

Steve wasn’t sure how he'd got it so wrong.

Bucky had laughed it off at the time, asking Steve if he wanted to watch TV, and with nothing left to do, he agreed. For two overly large war-torn men, they fit wonderfully; wrapping limbs around the other, holding tight like they'd never let go again. It was soothing, comfortable - right. And as Steve pressed soft lips to the crown of Bucky's hair while a documentary played in the background, he wondered why their attempt at kissing when alone, without an audience hadn’t worked.

Steve could only put it down to nerves.

Bucky was his best friend after all, he was the only one who remembered and knew Steve, knew everything about him in fact, there were no secrets - except for the almost one hundred year pining between them. The awkwardness had to be because of a change in dynamics, they were now more, they wanted more, and were so nervous and scared to adapt to something new, it had become an issue of self-confidence.

It would get better.

It had to.

The next morning when Bucky left for a briefing, he placed a kiss on the corner of Steve’s mouth, and when Steve jerked his head to the side to capture Bucky's lips, he somehow managed to press his teeth into the soft pink flesh, tasting blood. Bucky pulled back with a huff of laughter and licked his lips to capture the red stain before leaving with a wink and a goodbye. Steve flushed red, the heat on his cheeks burning enough that he jumped up and organised an impromptu run with Sam to escape the memory. The whole time Steve lamented to a cackling Sam, that he'd somehow forgotten how to kiss.

Sam was a dick.

It had officially been three weeks, three full weeks of 'dating' and even though their actual dates were wonderful, full of laughter and fun and exploration, it was when they crawled into bed next to the other that suddenly every kiss, every touch was fraught with danger and peril. And maybe it was because they were both supersoldiers, both familiar and unfamiliar with some of their strengths, they'd overlooked they were still prone to the usual calamities that befell non-serumed folk, they just bounced back quicker.

So when Bucky ground down hard enough it bent Steve's dick practically in two - well, it wasn't pleasant, and took over an hour for the tears to stop streaming, all while he yelled to a panicked Bucky there was no way he was calling Dr Cho over it and that it would heal.

It healed, but Steve winced each time he went to the bathroom for the following two days.

The love bite Steve sucked into Bucky's upper thigh on the way to taste his gorgeous dick for the first time, erupted into a blood blister almost immediately and Bucky instinctually jerked away, kneeing Steve in the temple.

He only saw stars for two minutes, but the mood died in a flurry of apologies while the mark on Bucky's skin disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

By Steve's count, they'd tried a total of ten times to initiate sex, to make each other feel good, and every single time something had happened to thwart their attempts.

Steve wondered if the universe was trying to tell them they were not supposed to get physical. That they were destined to be best friends without any benefits.

But Steve wouldn't give up without a fight.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“You can stop laughing now,” Steve said with a sigh, taking a sip of his espresso while trying to ignore the spluttering of his other best friend.

“Oh I know, but I can’t. You kicked Bucky in the hip so hard it somehow threw his body out of alignment and he was walking with a limp for two days. And not the type of limp you want.” Sam was practically heaving in mirth by that stage.

“Why did I come to you for advice? I'm leaving.”

"No, no don't. I'm glad you came to me. But Barnes? I understand your reaction because I'd kick him so he couldn’t walk for days too - but obviously under different circumstances,” Sam added when Steve scowled at his words.

"I don't get it though," Steve complained with an exaggerated shrug. "We sync so well everywhere else. Christ, we even snuggle in such a natural way, that neither of us have had a real nightmare in a month. We are more than ready for the next step. Sam, you have no idea how much we want to take it - but the minute we try to get… intimate - it falls flat."

Sam took a long sip of his iced coffee, thick cream bobbing over the surface as he tilted the glass up. Steve winced at how sweet it had to taste, but he said nothing, remained quiet, knowing that Sam would have some advice at least.

"Maybe it's the way you say intimate? I'm joking, jeez Steve, don't give me your disappointed face. Look, I think you should set the mood, you know - music, candlelight, silk sheets and no distractions. Maybe some aromatic oils too, do the whole, 'I think you're sexy and I want you' gesture - make it obvious you find him desirable.”

“Aromatic oils?”

Sam smirked and waggled his eyebrows, “for a special massage of course.”

Steve flushed at the thought of having Bucky’s naked skin and hardened muscles under his hands, sliding and slipping as he loosened him up, ready to make Bucky fall apart, make him languid and hazy with want. Sam coughed and Steve realised he was letting his imagination run too wild, especially in front of company.

“You know what? I think I chose wisely for my replacement.” Steve grinned as Sam ducked his head, a pleased look gracing his features. “Thanks, Sam. I’m sure it’s a timing thing, we just need to make it sexy.”

Sam clapped his back, and with a wide toothy grin and a wink, said in a low deep voice, “you’re an overachiever Steve - you’ve got this.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Steve in fact, did not have it.

Maybe his first mistake was to massage Bucky on the sofa, not in their bed. He used too much oil and when Steve raised himself up, eager to flip Bucky over and finally take his hard dick in hand, the vinyl fabric in conjunction with Bucky’s skin was soaked and slippery. Steve found himself sliding and flailing uncontrollably, right off the sofa to smack his face into the coffee table, the mood disappearing in a peal of Bucky’s laughter. Steve couldn't even blame him, it would have looked a sight.  

After a long hot shower where Steve contemplated his choice in friends and their terrible advice, Bucky and he sat on a freshly cleaned sofa and watched Animal Planet while eating Thai. They ended up cuddling under Bucky's weighted blanket, falling asleep entwined, and just before Steve blacked out, he wondered if maybe Sam wasn’t the right choice for Cap after all. His plan stunk.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“You do know I’m not that kind of Doctor, right?” Bruce reiterated for the third time, and Steve shrugged in response.

“I know. But at this stage it’s worth a shot. So Doc, any advice for me?”

Bruce sat back on the lone stool in his lab, hand cupping his chin as he thought. At least Bruce appeared to be more contemplative than Sam had been. “Have you tried to romance him? Take Bucky out for a nice dinner, partake in some Asgardian wine to loosen things up, before dancing, showing him that you're a gentleman - prove to Bucky how special he is to you. In my limited experience, the rest will flow from there with no problems.”

Steve nodded along as Bruce spoke, holding Bucky against his body as they danced across the floor wouldn’t be too different from fighting together, and they were in perfect harmony while out in the field. Bruce’s idea made perfect sense to Steve, had more of a familiar feel from Bucky and his early life, before the war than what Sam’s had. Sam's suggestion centered on the physical between Steve and Bucky, whereas Bruce was suggesting something subtle, emotional.

“You know what Bruce? Thank you, I think it might just work.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

It did not work. 

Halfway through their fifth dance as their bodies started to meld together, barely moving on the dancefloor, holding each other's gaze as they whispered words of desire to each, Steve leant forward, their lips barely touching. And as Steve took in a breath, feeling Bucky’s returning exhale on his lips, the back wall blew out in an explosion, Bucky headbutting Steve in surprise, and suddenly they had Hydra operatives swarming them. Steve, as he took out three hostiles with his shield, wondered if he should talk to Dr Cho about the effects of concussion and if he could suffer them, due to his head seemingly taking the brunt of recent mishaps. 

Bucky and Steve fell into tandem together, their natural ability to fight kicking in, keeping the other safe. It was much more natural than dancing and Steve sighed, knowing romantic nights out might not be the right course of action for them. 

It took three days of intense fighting to take down the Hydra faction, and afterwards they were both too tired to speak more than a sentence, and fell into a deep sleep curled around the other immediately. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Steve ignored Tony's unsolicited advice to take Bucky to a ski chalet and teach him how to toboggan, knowing freezing conditions and a small metal tube wouldn't be the best way to loosen them both up to get frisky. Plus Steve was still trying to work out how Tony even knew Steve had asked other people for advice about sex? Maybe JARVIS was spying again, though the AI had promised Steve he wouldn't.

But what was worse, was Peter Parker, at barely even twenty years of age coming to Steve, red faced and stammering, saying that he thought Steve should take Bucky to laser tag and the arcade to have some old fashioned fun. 

Steve at that point was at his wits end, so he tried Peter's plan. When Steve was confronted with all the bright, colourful and confusing machines, he almost gave up. Actual 'old-fashioned' and Peter's idea of it, were poles apart. Though, Steve found he was really good at Tetris and Bucky excelled at zombie shooting games. But it was when playing laser tag it all fell over, Bucky and Steve getting too competitive, and a tad physical, which ended up with them being kicked out and banned, after having to apologise to a bunch of wide-eyed yet excited fifteen year olds. 

Bucky's exclamations that there wasn't that much blood, fell on the deaf ears of the twenty year old manager who reprimanded them, saying that at their age they should know better.

It did not induce a night of passion afterwards. Although, Bucky purchased a console online and a bunch of zombie games that evening, including a bundle that included Tetris, so it wasn't a complete bust.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“So basically what you’re saying is that nothing has worked? You’ve been tiptoeing around each other for what? Almost two months now?” At Steve’s nod, Nat grinned, crouching down and did a handspring, legs wrapping around his neck, pulling him to the floor. “The way you are with each other, I honestly would have guessed you’d been screwing for years. If I didn't know you better.”

“That’s not helpful. I’m serious. We have a real issue.” Steve looked up from his twisted position directly into her green eyes and sighed, she loosened her legs and Steve ran a hand over his face and stayed on the ground. “What if we’re just not meant to be?”

Nat’s expression softened as much as it ever did, meaning her left eyebrow turned down for less than a second before reasserting itself into a perfectly sardonic position.

“Okay, my advice for what it’s worth, and just note that I’m extremely offended that you didn’t come to me first, I mean Sam - come on. But let it happen naturally, organically. Just like it took you a hundred years to own up to your feelings, wait until it feels right to have sex.”

Steve groaned, and stood up, “I’m not waiting another hundred years, Nat.”

“Jesus, Rogers. Fine. Go see Wanda then.”

“Wanda?”

“Use that big brain of yours, not the small one. She’s a witch, I’m sure she can help you out.”

Steve knew the surprise on his face wasn’t feigned. He’d not actually thought Wanda could do spells or the like, but the more he thought about Nat’s words, the more it appealed. Could some magical interference help them?

“Thanks, Nat - I’ll definitely think about it.”

In the space of him finishing his words and a smile forming - Steve was on his back again, Nat’s thighs wrapped around his neck as she squeezed with intent.

“You’ll see that I was right.”

~*~*~*~*~

That night when Steve tried to let things happen naturally, organically as Nat had suggested, Steve slid a hand up Bucky’s side, light as a feather, only for Bucky to squirm in laughter and throw his head backwards, smashing into Steve’s poor battered nose - which broke. It healed within seconds, but blood spurted out in a gush, coating the back of Bucky’s hair and neck. It took an hour to clean up.

~*~*~*~*~

He went and saw Wanda the next day.

~*~*~*~*~

“Well, I’m one lucky girl, first a visit and latte from James this morning and now you this afternoon with a pastry.” Wanda took a bite of the flaky dessert, one Steve knew was her favourite. “Alright Steve what can I do for you today?”

Steve’s immediate reaction was to ask why Bucky had been there, but knew that the two of them had a strong connection, Wanda helping Bucky through some of the residual trauma with her powers, and then their fast bond over Alpine - Bucky’s terror of a stray cat that took up residence in their apartment. Or took over would be more apt.

“I… err, I need your help with something... delicate.”

Wanda gave Steve the smallest smile, a knowing look in her eyes and Steve lost his train of thought for a moment, not sure he really needed another Avenger to know about his intimacy issue with Bucky. He almost chickened out, but Wanda leaned forward and grasped his forearm.

“It’s okay, Steve - you can tell me, ask me anything.”

Sighing heavily, Steve steeled himself, he was out of options.

“Alright -” Steve laid out plainly what had been happening, the awkwardness, the injuries, the sheer unluckiness they’d suffered each time they’d attempted to move their relationship forwards physically.

“And you came to me for...?”

“Help, I guess,” Steve said and looked at Wanda pleadingly, “Can you? I mean, with a potion or a spell or something of the like?”

Wanda slumped back in her chair, mouth opening to speak, but nothing came out, she remained silent. After a minute, she swallowed audibly then looked up at the roof, and if Steve didn’t know better, he would have thought she was rolling her eyes at him. Yet he knew that wouldn’t be the case, Wanda was polite to him, always had been, they were a team. Friends. Only Nat would take those liberties with him.

“Alright,” Wanda finally spoke and stood up, walking over to her kitchen cupboards, pulling out jars and bottles holding different liquids. And before Steve knew it, he was holding a small glass vial filled with a substance that smelt like vodka, but had rosemary and a slice of orange and a few other items bobbing around inside.

“What’s this?”

“Well you asked for a potion, didn’t you?”

“Really? I actually didn’t think you’d -”

“- Do you want the sex magic or not?”

Steve grasped the tiny bottle in his hand, careful not to crush it in his huge meaty hands.

“I do,” he said quickly and stood, pulling her into a warm hug, which she returned readily.

“Just take half an hour before you want to… well, you know.”

“Thanks, Wanda, you were my last hope.”

And as he walked out  the room, Wanda called out after him, “you’ll be fine Steve. I know this will work for you.”

~*~*~*~*~

It worked. 

Bucky was on his knees, mouth wrapped around Steve’s thick dick, swallowing and licking like his life depended on it. And Steve, well, he couldn’t articulate, could only stare down into those familiar grey-blue eyes that gazed at Steve like he was a conquering god, stare at the way saliva dripped down Bucky’s chin as he drew in as much of Steve’s hardness as possible, Bucky’s plush lips stretched taut until they’d lost most of their colour.

It was the most glorious sight of Steve’s entire life.

He didn’t want to think about Wanda in that moment, but he was eternally grateful to her. Bucky had disappeared into the bathroom about half an hour earlier - leaving enough time for Steve to drink the potion in one go, and before he knew it, almost half an hour to the dot, they launched at the other. For once there were no injuries, awkwardness, or pain - just hungry kisses, curious hands and moaning. A lot of moaning and grinding.

Then Bucky dropped to his knees, yanking impatiently at Steve’s pants until they all but ripped off, and sucked him down in the same breath.

Throwing his head back, Steve looked to the ceiling, fingers tangled in Bucky’s hair as Bucky hummed and gasped around his dick, sucking loudly, slurping and choking at times. But Steve couldn’t keep his eyes away for long. Bucky was too compelling, too perfect.

“God, you have no idea how you look right now do you, on your knees, mouth full of me?” Steve husked and involuntarily pumped his hips a few times. Bucky’s eyelids fluttered shut as he listened to Steve’s words, not complaining about the added pressure. “Born to take me, weren't you, Doll?”

Bucky practically squirmed on the spot, moaning and whimpering and Steve realised through the haze and bliss of what Bucky’s clever tongue was doing to him, that Bucky clearly had a thing for pet names.

“Do you want this large dick inside of you sweetheart? Do you want to sit on it? Take it deep into your body, let you take control and ride me until you come?” Steve should have been taken aback by his words, about where his filthy mind was taking them. But he was running his mouth, not thinking, letting what felt good flow off his tongue. And Bucky - he loved it.

Popping his mouth off the end of Steve’s dick, tongue immediately lathing up and down the shaft so as to always have a point of contact, he moaned loudly, wantonly. “God yes, Stevie - want you to fill me up, stretch me, want to feel you for days after, I want you to own me…”

Steve growled possessively, his fingers tightening in Bucky’s hair, pulling back so Bucky was jerked away from his dick, Bucky whining at the loss. Oh christ - that jar of sex magic needed to be marketed - it was phenominal. Steve had never felt so in control of a situation, so ready for anything, not scared, just willing to make Bucky feel good. “I want that too, baby, want everyone to know you’re mine.”

Yanking Bucky upwards, Steve devoured his mouth in a kiss, completely surprised that the potion had worked so well. Not only were they finally on the same page, they were doing it with no shame, telling each other exactly what they wanted and when, pleasuring with sensations and not overthinking, and the teasing - it was natural, it felt right. And Steve knew he was forever in Wanda's debt for the gift of her magic.

“I want to watch you prepare yourself, gorgeous. Want to see your fingers sliding in and out of your tight hole - a hole I’m going to own from tonight onwards.”

“Jesus, Steve, you’re killin’ me here.”

“Not quite yet, I’m not. Give me an hour and we’ll circle back to that.”

“Don’t speak to me like a rookie learning the ropes.” Bucky grumbled.

Steve smiled, “But aren't you?”

“Jerk.”

“Punk.”

Steve swallowed the rest of his retort when Bucky stripped naked to crawl up on their bed, spinning around to lay amongst the pillows, spreading his legs wide like he couldn’t wait to be railed. And Steve was unable to tear his gaze away from Bucky’s hole, his gorgeous and perfect entrance, one that would be puffy and leaking before the night was out - the superficial damage caused by Steve and no one else. A tight sensation welled in Steve’s gut, lurching when Bucky grabbed the lube, pouring liberally before starting to finger himself.

That was the point where Steve knew he'd made a grave mistake.

He wasn’t going to be able to watch Bucky open himself up, Steve was too wound up, too impatient and also too much of a control freak. He needed to ensure Bucky did a good enough job, knowing his girth alone was more than most people were used to. So when Bucky was two fingers in, sweat beading, eyes never leaving Steve’s face, Steve jerked forward and climbed up on the bed, positioning himself between Bucky’s legs. He lubed up his fingers to test the tightness himself, Bucky’s eyes opening in shock at the probing.

“Steve…” he stammered, “What are you doing?”

“Helping.”

Bucky sighed out a breath, relaxing into the intrusion as Steve pressed a finger in next to Bucky’s, and Steve shut his eyes, groaning; Bucky was so tight and hot, perfectly wrapped around Steve’s finger. Steve knew he was going to lose himself in Bucky’s body, was going to transcend, never be the same again and he couldn’t wait.

Steve ensured Bucky was a writhing panting mess before he even contemplated sliding into his tight heat. No matter how much Bucky asked for it, no matter the pleading, the begging (of which Bucky did so prettily, especially with the beginnings of frustrated tears in his eyes), Steve wanted their first time to be free of pain and injury, and by god was he going to deliver.

When he deemed Bucky ready, who pouted back to declare he was, hours ago, it only confirmed a surly Bucky was absolutely gorgeous to Steve, and Steve pulled him down the bed, spreading Bucky’s legs wide. Bucky sank back, allowing himself to be positioned, holding Steve’s gaze hotly as Steve pressed the tip of his dick against the loosened muscle of Bucky’s ass.

The first testing push felt like Steve was going to split Bucky in two - there was no way he would fit. But Bucky grabbed Steve violently by the back of the head, holding him tight in his superhuman strength.

“Don’t you fucking dare stop - not now.”

“Alright, sweetheart,” Steve said placating, “just don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You won’t.” Bucky replied adamantly, and Steve still wasn’t sure until Bucky husked out, “Trust me.”

And Steve did. He trusted Bucky more than anyone else in the world, the universe, and so he continued to press past the tight muscle and...

Oh.

Oh fuck.

He wasn’t expecting Bucky to feel so good, so tight, so perfect. Steve kept pushing, further and further, almost endlessly until he had to pull out an inch to gain more leverage, and the whole time he did this, the whole time he tested and pressed forward again, Steve watched Bucky’s face, looking for signs of discomfort. He saw none.

Bucky was slack-jawed as he stared into Steve’s eyes in a completely blissful state, and pride welled up inside of Steve, he was making Bucky look like that, giving Bucky what he wanted, desired. Steve and no one else.

It was both heady and compelling.

When Steve could push no further and was fully seated within Bucky’s body, he took a breath, then another, and although his instinct was telling him to thrust, take, pound, he didn’t. He’d promised Bucky something.

Grabbing Bucky’s waist, he spun them quickly; Bucky yelping suddenly at the change in position, and looking a little dazed, he ended up straddling Steve, thighs stretched taut over Steve’s large frame.

“Ride me baby.” Steve said simply, and Bucky melted, falling forward to kiss Steve’s lips passionately. Steve held Bucky close as a tongue snaked into his mouth, lips frantic and hot on his, so Steve jerked up into Bucky’s body, reminding Bucky of what he was supposed to be doing, earning him a gasp directly into his mouth.

Sitting up, Bucky pressed his hands against Steve’s stomach for leverage, and tested his breadth of movement, wiggling side to side before he started to move in earnest. Soon Bucky was bouncing on Steve, pulling up and slamming down, taking the pleasure he wanted for himself, and Steve, he lay back and watched the love of his life take every inch he could, and adored it.

After a while, sweat started to pour down Bucky’s temples, his eyes squeezed shut tightly in concentration as he speared himself again and again on Steve’s hardness, wringing pleasure out of every pore, and Steve knew Bucky was close - could tell by the shortening breaths. Licking his palm, Steve reached forward to grip Bucky’s gorgeously rigid dick as it bobbed freely before him, mesmerizing in its movements.

Bucky snapped his eyes open, capturing Steve in his intense gaze, a pleading spark in them, and what Bucky was asking for, Steve wasn’t sure - so he grasped harder and began to stroke. He was methodical, brutal, unrelatening and soon Bucky was clenching around him as come erupted from his dick, coating Steve’s stomach in sticky stripes, and Steve was desperate to taste. So he did. 

Trailing a finger through the mess while Bucky caught his breath, Steve relished Bucky holding him deep within his body, clenching and twitching around him as Steve slid one wet and come soaked finger between his lips, moaning at the unique and tangy taste. It was pure Bucky. His essence, and Steve was addicted already.

“Oh Buck, I’m going to suck you so good one day. You’re the sweetest thing, aren’t you?”

Bucky nodded his head in return, sated and hazy, his breathing returning to some semblance of control, and with a refractory period only superserum enhanced soldiers experienced, Bucky’s dick started to fill again, not quickly, but enough Steve knew from experience that the sensitivity would have abated enough to touch - to continue.

“My turn,” Steve growled, spinning them back over, crushing Bucky into the bed under his weight.

Steve didn’t wait for a response, just immediately pounded hard into Bucky’s limp, open and languid body. And at odds with the rest of his self, Bucky’s dick hardened against Steve’s stomach with every stroke, but Steve had become lost in the sensations, in how good it felt to be encased in Bucky’s heat, his warmth, of finally being closer than ever before for the first time and he couldn’t think straight.

Grabbing Bucky’s chin in one hand, Steve pressed their mouths together, panting into Bucky’s as he whispered words of love tempered with a stream of filth that had Bucky’s eyes rolling to the back of his head.

Thrusting harder again and putting all his strength behind it, able to without hurting Bucky, Steve went into a frenzy as Bucky writhed and moaned underneath him, nonsense words falling from his throat. Steve held on as long as he could, but it was too much, had taken too long to finally be inside of Bucky, and with a litany of ‘oh god’s’ Steve came deep inside of his lover, his friend, his forever and basked in the moment, knowing it was all thanks to a little potion bottle. 

As he caught his breath, inhaling Bucky’s scent, smiling down and kissing his lips reverently, Bucky looked up at him grey-blue eyes full of wonder and happiness.

Their smiles couldn’t be any larger.

Maybe magic wasn’t so bad after all.

~*~*~*~*~

“Judging by the way they couldn’t keep their hands off each other this morning at the team breakfast, I assume you gave Steve and Bucky some help and advice?” Nat asked Wanda as they sat in a wine bar downtown that night on their weekly catch up.

Wanda smirked, holding her glass up in a cheers to Nat. “Yep, Bucky came to me yesterday morning and Steve in the afternoon. Both seeking the exact same help.”

“And did your ‘sex magic’ work?”

“Of course it did - I used my best Vodka.” Wanda affronted that Nat would even question her, knowing the redhead was really teasing.

“What about the spell you used?”

“Well, I wriggled my nose for theatrics, added a sprig of dried rosemary that was stuck to the back of my fridge, and made my hand glow for a second. Some of my finest acting work I think.”

“Those boys just needed some inner confidence - I knew it would work.”

“Of course you did.”

“Damn straight. Tequila shots here please!”’ Nat yelled to the barman who looked way too eager to assist, even though the bar was packed. Nat left a hefty tip when their drinks landed before them less than a minute later, and picking up the glasses she handed one to Wanda. Wanda knew she was going to regret their night the next day. 

Clinking their glasses, Nat declared, “to sex magic and dumb idiots in love.”

“And to us for being excellent enablers and smarter than the lot of them.”

“I couldn't agree more.”

Wanda woke up the next morning wishing she could infuse potions, if she was able to, then her headache might not be so epic. She hid under the covers for the rest of the day. 

Romanoff was a bad influence.

[starlessskies94]

Consequence (Joel Miller x OC)

Summary: What if Joel survived his injuries from the Abby and Fireflies attack but ends up with really bad amnesia. He can’t remember his wife, Ellie, or the Outbreak; only before. How will his family bring back the man they once knew?Pairing: Joel Miller x OC                                                                                      Note: An update? Could It be? After all this time?...Yes. It is I! I come with a thousand apologies for taking so long to update. I didn't plan for it be so long but with Covid and going back to work during Covid and family stuff, I just haven't had the time but I'm back my lovelies and I really hope this chapter doesn't disappoint :)

Chapter Seven 

Tommy woke up late for the first time in weeks; he didn’t often sleep in but given his late night chasing lost cattle through the town after they’d somehow managed to escape the paddocks; he figured he more than deserved it. Maria had woken him when she made to leave and insisted he stay put while she made a start on the morning checks. She kissed him goodbye and they promised to meet later for lunch together.

The morning air was crisp and fresh as he stepped down onto the path, his jacket zipped tight to fight off the dwindling cold. The snow had long since melted and there were clear telltale signs of Spring fast approaching in Jackson.

And while the cold wasn’t as biting as it had been, there was still the odd chill that needed to be shielded from with a layer or two.

It wouldn’t be long before they were preparing for a new harvest to grow throughout the year. The sacks of seeds and planting equipment appearing all over town as families began to prep the soil and start their planting as the wildflowers poked their heads through the ground to bask in the warming sunlight.

Tommy made his way through the streets heading straight for his brother’s house. It was still hard to believe that it had been a whole two months since Joel’s attack.

Two whole months since his sister in law had lost her husband; his niece, her father. And unfortunately for all of them; it didn’t seem like Joel was making any progress to getting his memories back. He tried to help of course but his brother, being the stubborn grump that he was, had only pushed his younger brother away, insisting he was capable of handling the trauma alone.

He hated seeing his brother struggling, especially when it seemed that some details were coming through. It was little things but it was better than nothing. The only problem was, it was things Joel seemed to dismiss without a second thought.

Tommy honestly believed if Joel focused on them, they’d help process bigger things. Though it certainly hadn’t helped matters that the older Miller had stopped going to his weekly check ups to help his mind improve. The head of the infirmary had voiced her concerns to Tommy a few days earlier. His constant dismissal and disregard for their importance to his slow recovery; not just frustrating the Doctor but also Tommy himself.

He just hoped he could talk some sense into his big brother.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He knocked but no answer greeted him as he stepped inside the house. It was quiet but clean. Each room meticulously organised and tidied to within an itch of its life. He figured this was what Joel must have been filling his days with over the past few weeks. The sound of muffled hammering caught his attention, leading him up the stairs to Joel’s workshop room. The door slightly ajar. Tommy had barely entered the room before Joel acknowledged him.  

“What do you want, Tommy?” Joel grunted without even bothering to turn around. Tommy just shrugged silently, his hands awkwardly stuffing into the front pockets of his jeans.

“Well good morning to you too, just stopped by to see how you’re doing.”

“As good as I can be I guess.” He muttered as he continued to work, never taking his eyes off the wood in his hands. It felt nice seeing his brother once again taking an interest in an old hobby that he had enjoyed before his injury. It felt like maybe they were finally heading in the right direction. But Tommy had to hold off, he didn’t want to push anymore than was necessary. He knew Joel well enough to know that if you pushed too far; Joel would only push back twice as hard. “Right, sorry... whatcha making?”   Joel hobbled back a little from the table, giving Tommy a better view of the work in question. The long neck and the four legs beginning to take shape made his heart skip. The older man had always had a talent; that was for certain. The horses he made were always magnificent. The wolves and the deer along with any other animal the people of Jackson had asked for; were always made with utmost care. And it seemed this work of art was no different.

“I think I meant for it to be a giraffe before... everything. Figured I might as well finish it. Hell if I know who it was supposed to be for.”

“Ellie.” Tommy whispered.  

“What?”

Tommy took a second for his brain to catch up with his words as he quickly cleared his throat and tried not to fidget too much. “It’s just...uh.. that it’s her birthday in a couple of months and she always liked giraffes, maybe it was meant for her?” He offered nervously. Joel just hummed casually. With a quick dismissive shake of his head and a sigh; he moved the half carved giraffe onto a nearby shelf along with his other unfinished projects. Turning to face his brother, his arm reaching out to grab his cane to steady his balance.

“Yeah, maybe...maybe Ada asked me to make it for her to give to Ellie as a gift.” He wondered out loud, stopping Tommy in his tracks.

“You talked to her?” He asked almost a little too quickly. Causing Joel to frown slightly in response at his brother’s unexplained eagerness.  

“Who Ada? Briefly, why? Am I supposed to know her or something?”

“You guys were...friends I guess…” Tommy replied weakly. He knew he had to be cautious here, baby steps. They were moving into uncharted territory when it came to Ada and Ellie. Joel had only just started to accept the life they had lived in Boston as smugglers and that was before he had even had the courage to bring up the Fireflies. He needed to steer clear of things deeper than that for now  and ease into the conversation he wanted to have. But his patience was starting to run thin. “Look, the reason I came by is because I was talking to Elizabeth and she said you’ve stopped going to your check ups.”  

“Oh not this again Tommy!” Joel snapped, his brother rolling his eyes in frustration as Joel hobbled away from his work space and further towards the door. But Tommy was quick to stop him, stepping in the threshold and blocking Joel’s exit.

“Look I know I don’t understand what you’re going through but-”

“You’re damn right you don’t!” He yelled. "You have no idea what it’s like Tommy; to lose years of your life in an instant. Forget everything you’ve done and the people you used to care about. I don’t see how bitching about how shitty this is to the damn Doctor is going to help!”

“But you’re starting to remember things Joel! That’s a big fucking deal!”

“How?! All I’m remembering is crap no one cares about! How are horse’s names gonna help me? Or how I take my coffee in the morning? I couldn’t even remember holding my little girl in my arms after she was shot! Oh but thank the lord I could remember what colour shirt I was wearing when it happened!!”

With every word Joel got closer, his nostrils flaring in anger as blood continued to boil. But Tommy never backed down, squaring up to his big brother wasn’t unusual and certainly wasn’t the first time they’d been at odds on how to handle something. Joel’s eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched.

“It’s been two months Tommy...two months of this and it ain’t getting better any time soon. This ain’t your problem so just back off!” He hissed between gritted teeth.

“You can’t just push me away Joel, I want to help. I’m trying but you’re just being so damn stubborn.”

“Then leave, I didn’t ask you to babysit me. And I sure as hell don’t need you sticking around outta guilt.” The words stopped Tommy dead.

“What?”

“I might not remember what happened but I know enough from what you told me about Boston...You survived because of me. All those years I took care of us. Just like when we were kids. So what? You feel like you owe me? You gotta take your turn to take care of me now? You can keep it baby brother because I don’t want it. And I didn’t ask for it.” The words spit venom with every ounce of bitterness Joel had in him. And Tommy felt his lip snarl in response. The ungrateful bastard; he thought coldly, after everything he’d done to keep his brother alive on the way back to Jackson after the Fireflies had almost beaten him to death and this was what he had to say in response.

“How do I know the people who did this weren’t after you. I mean they did a pretty good number on you too right? Big brother to the rescue to save your sorry ass; yet again! You think I want to live like this?! Huh?! Trapped in a life of a man I don’t even know. A house full of memories I can’t even goddamn remember!”

That was it, Tommy was done. Joel was frustrated and angry, he knew that. He understood that. Of course he did. But to blame him for this?! How the hell was that fair? His hands shook in pure anger, chest heaving as he held back his punches as much as he could. He stumbled away from the door. His trembling hand reaching up and running through his beard in a poor attempt to calm himself.  

“You know what screw you! Screw you Joel! You wanna give up, you wanna feel sorry for yourself? Fine! I’m done. You give up on your family-”

“Family?! What damn family? There’s no one left Tommy! Sarah is gone!”

“She ain’t the only one you got!” Tommy cut off without thinking. Joel’s face dropping at his brother's outburst. The younger man’s eyes widened in shock as he realised what he’d said. But it was too late to take it back now. And Tommy knew that. They both did. Perhaps now was the time to tell the truth.

“You want to know who your family is Joel? Take a look in your damn attic.”

Tommy uttered the words into the thick silence left between the two men. Before turning on his heel to leave, never giving Joel a chance to answer. Leaving the man to stew in his confession. He just hoped that somehow...Ada could forgive him for this.  

[beenbaanbuun]

NCT 127′s reaction to their S/O fainting during an argument

This got really personal for me in some places (literally all of what I wrote for Doyoung) , I don’t even know why. 

TAEIL

You glared at each other, neither of you standing down. You were extremely angry at him; how dare he accuse you of being selfish when you took a week off of work to see him on tour. You needed that money, especially since your landlord put your rent up, but you were throwing it away to spend time with your boyfriend.

“Have you thought about the fact that I might be too busy to see you? You can’t just spring this on me because that makes me the bad guy when I can’t spend time with you.” You shook your head at him in disbelief. You might not be able to afford to pay for your house this week, yet all Taeil could focus on was the fact that he wasn’t expecting you to be there. 

“If you’re going to be like this, I’ll go and find another hotel to stay at for the week. I can’t believe you Taeil.” You pushed yourself away from the hotel table, ignoring the dizziness you felt; you were too angry to think about it. Taeil just watched you grab your coat, and begin to storm off. You didn’t reach the door before you started to get black spots in your vision, and within a few seconds, you were on the floor. Taeil didn’t know what to do; this was his fault after all. He felt like crying, but he couldn’t do that, especially when you were lay on the floor needing his help.

“Wake up, baby. Please.” He knelt beside you as he spoke, worry showing through his words. He gently shook your shoulders, trying to wake you up, but it wasn’t working. All he could do was call an ambulance and ask for them to help. It was about 5 minutes later when you woke up, your head in Taeil’s lap as he spoke on the phone. Your throat felt dry, so you didn’t want to speak. Instead, you lifted your hand, tugging on his clothes. The look of surprise on his face when you got his attention almost made you laugh, but you were cut off by Taeil pressing his lips to yours.

“I’m so sorry, but please, never scare me like that again.”

JOHNNY

“Are you actually taking the piss, Johnny?” You glared at him, a fire burning deep inside of you. He’d skipped the date you’d organised to spend a day with Mark. Normally this wouldn’t upset you too much, but then again he normally let you know if he couldn’t make it. When Johnny came over the next morning to see you, you couldn’t control your anger, and neither could he.

“Well maybe I just wanted one day without you clinging to me. As far as I was aware, I was allowed to see my friends.” Shock was the only emotion you felt. He thought you were clingy, and that was enough to make you want to leave the conversation. You wanted him out of your house until he apologised. “What? No comeback to that? You’ve finally shut up.” He watched as your face turned redder and redder withe every word he spoke.

“Shut the fuck up and get the fuck out of my house.” You weren’t sure whether he heard you or not; your voice was quiet and he stood there for a few minutes. He just watched your face, trying to see if you were being serious. After a few minutes you’d had enough of him not leaving, so you stood up, about to force him out of the house, but as soon as you stood up, you fell. Johnny managed to catch you, his eyes widening in shock when you fell.

“Oh god. No, no, no.” He began to mumble to himself, slowly laying you down on the floor. He didn’t know what to do, his eyes flicking around the room searching for something, anything that would help. Nothing stuck out to him, so he sat on the floor with you, his heart beating faster than it ever had before. His hand rested on your head. As soon as your eyes flickered open, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. We can go on as many dates as you want. I love you.”

TAEYONG

He didn’t mean to get angry, but all he wanted to do was sleep, and when he got back to the dorms to see you in his room, he snapped. He quite clearly didn’t want you there, and honestly, if he was going to act like this, you weren’t sure you wanted to be there either. That being said, you were stubborn, and you weren’t leaving until you’d won the argument.

“I just don’t see why you have to come here when I say I’ll be home late. I’m quite clearly tired and I don’t want to have to stay up and listen to you talk about insignificant shit.” You were taken aback by what he said. You never knew that he though what you told him was insignificant. As far as you were aware, he enjoyed hearing you talk about your day, but apparently not. A sigh left your mouth as you stood up from his bed.

“Well I know when I’m not wanted, Taeyong.” You were sad, so you put the pain you felt in your head down to the fact that you were holding back tears. Taeyong regretted shouting at you, but as he watched you leave his jumper that you wore on the way here on his bed, choosing to leave the dorms in just a thin t-shirt, he realised nothing he could say would make things better. He sat on his bed, listening to you say goodbye to a few of the other members who were sat around, until he heard a bang and shouts from the members.

“What’s happening?” His voice was loud as he walked into the living room to see you sprawled out on the floor, Mark staring at you in shock. Tears began to gather in Taeyong’s eyes and he couldn’t help but blame himself. Maybe if he hadn’t chased you away, you wouldn’t have got so upset and this wouldn’t have happened. He sank to his knees next to you, just in time for you to open your eyes. You were confused to say the least; you were lay on the floor and your boyfriend was crying next to you, of course you were confused. Any feeling of confusion vanished as soon as he kissed you though, and a feeling of comfort spread through your body.

“You’re staying here tonight, and I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

YUTA

“Maybe if you actually told me things and didn’t hide everything away from me then we’d both be happy.” He’d showed up at your apartment late at night, only to find you crying in your living room. At first, the discussion was exactly that, a discussion, but soon it turned into an argument when you refused to tell him why you were so upset. It wasn’t like you were never going to tell him, but at that exact moment in time, you weren’t in the right head space for it.

“If you’d just listen to me, I’ve told you several times now that I will tell you, just not now.” Yuta still didn’t understand why you weren’t telling him, horrible things running through his head. He began to wrack his brain, trying to come up with solutions as to why you wouldn’t tell him what was wrong, but he never found anything that stuck out to him.

“Well I don’t think secrets belong in a relationship. If you don’t feel the same, then maybe we shouldn’t be together.” Silence fell across the room as he said those words. Neither of you had ever mentioned breaking up before, and as far as you were aware, it wasn’t even on the table. You were shocked, you couldn’t deny that, and suddenly it felt like you couldn’t breathe. You were trying your hardest to take air in, but your head began to spin, and soon, your vision went black.

Yuta watched you tumble to the floor, not being able to move due to his own shock from what he said. He’d taken the argument too far, and he regretted everything he said. As soon as he heard the thump of you hitting the floor, though, he was broken out of his trance and soon got to work with helping you. When you woke, you were in your bed, being watched by a concerned Yuta. He watched as your eyes flickered open, a relieved smile making its way to his face when they opened fully.

“Tell me whenever you want, (Y/N). I’m willing to wait forever if I have to.”

DOYOUNG

You didn’t even know what you were arguing about anymore. It had started well over an hour ago, and neither of you would back down. At first, he accused you of not liking his friends, but now, he was picking out all of your flaws, trying desperately to find something to hurt your feelings and win the argument. Although, it’s not like you were doing any different.

“You know, not as many people like you as you think, (Y/N). You’re annoying and you need to grow up a bit. It’s like having a child around me constantly.” That was the last straw before you completely broke down into tears. It wasn’t like you even meant to be annoying or childish, that’s just how you were and you thought that he loved you the way you were, but evidently not. Doyoung expressed no regret, on the other hand, his face stony as he watched you cry.

“Why are you with me then?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but Doyoung seemed to hear, and was quite clearly shocked by what you said when he let out a small ‘what?’. “If I’m so childish, why do you even want to be with me? Surely you can go and find someone more mature, if you really wanted to.” At that moment, you decided you were finished with the argument, but you only took a couple of steps before your vision went black and your body crumbled onto the floor.

“(Y/N), no.” Doyoung’s voice was desperate as he sank down onto his knees, reaching out to touch your face as he did so. He was scared and confused, and he couldn’t hold back the tears. He wished he could take back every word that he’d said; maybe then you wouldn’t be in this situation right now. It took a few minutes for you to open your eyes again, and when you did, all you heard was Doyoung crying. His face was buried in your neck, and you could feel his tears dripping onto your shoulder, wetting it. The sound of you shushing him made him bring his head up, his eyes red as they looked into yours.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I’m so, so sorry.”

JAEHYUN

Jaehyun was being childish now, and you couldn’t quite believe how he was acting. You’d had a tiny argument earlier in the day about him not helping enough around the house, and now everything he did, he did to get a reaction. He’d got himself a sandwich and left the kitchen a tip. He took his clothes off in the bedroom and left them on the floor in a pile. Now, he’d spilt his water and just left it on the table.

“Are you fucking joking?” Jaehyun turned his head to look at you, a petty smirk on his lips. He knew that what he was doing was driving you insane, but he didn’t seem to be bothered by that. “Clean it up.” Your voice  wavered as you spoke, letting Jaehyun know that you were close to the edge, but he thought he’d push you a little bit further. It couldn’t hurt, right? He shook his head, watching a frown take over your face. His smile only grew, making you want to tip your drink over him, but you decided to be the bigger person.

You stood up from the sofa and began to walk to the kitchen, muttering yourself the entire time you were walking. You felt a little dizzy, but you pushed the feeling away, putting it down to your anger. The truth was, you were exhausted from picking up extra shifts at work and then coming home and cleaning up after your boyfriend. When you reached the kitchen, your dizziness got worse, making you double over as you reached for the towel on the side. Soon enough, Jaehyun heard the sound of something hitting the floor come from the kitchen.

As soon as he saw you on the floor, he felt sick. He knew you were stressed, yet all he did was push you to your limits, and apparently, break you in the process. His immediate thought was to call Taeyong for help, but all Taeyong did was call him an idiot for not calling an ambulance, which he did immediately after Taeyong hung up. It was dark outside when you woke up, and you were in a hospital bed, Jaehyun holding your hand that didnt have an IV in. His face was pale, and he looked more stressed than you’d ever seen him, but as soon as he saw that you were awake, his face lit up.

“You’re on bed rest until I tell you otherwise, missy. You’re not collapsing on me again.”

WINWIN

Winwin hadn’t said a word to you since he’d come home from the party, and it was starting to bug you. You could tell he was bothered by something, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on it. Eventually, you decided to ask him, but that was a bad mistake. As soon as you’d finished, Winwin began to talk, but his voice wasn’t his usual calming tone; he sounded furious.

“You were the only girlfriend not at the party tonight. It’s like you never make an effort.” You sighed, taking in everything he said, but not quite believing that he’d said them. You made him lunch every day, drove him to work when he stopped at your flat, picked him up from the dorms at stupid times in the morning whenever he wanted to cuddle, and yet he had the balls to say that you made no effort? Truth be told, you really were looking forward to the party, but you’d been feeling ill all day.

“Are you joking, Sicheng?” Part of you thought that he actually was, but when you looked into his eyes, you saw no sign of lightheartedness. “You know what, if you’re going to be like that, you may as well go to the dorms. You’re not spending the night here if this is how you’re going to act.” You stood up to head to the bedroom, but you must have done it too fast, because as soon as you’d stood up, you fell to the ground.

Sicheng was quick to follow your body to the floor, his eyes checking over you to see if you were hurt. He remembered you telling him you didn’t feel good, but it hadn’t occurred to him that it was this bad. He began to tug at his hair, panicked about what to do to help you, but no solutions came to mind. He just sat, watching you, hoping to see the slightest movement. After a few minutes, he did; your eyes began to flicker open, making him gasp. You’d barely woken up before he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly to him.

“I’m so sorry, baby. You never told me you were this ill.”

JUNGWOO

Jungwoo wasn’t talking to you, and you weren’t sure why. At this point, you weren’t happy with him. If he was mad at you for something, he should tell you. Trust is what you’d built your relationship on, and you wanted him to trust you enough to tell you what was wrong. It was a few minutes before he spoke up, asking you to pass him his phone that was resting on the table beside you.

“So you’re talking to me, now?” Jungwoo sighed, hearing the edge to your voice. He was just tired, and when he got tired, he got quiet. He just sighed, deciding to ignore your comment. “Of course not.” You grumbled, slumping down in your seat. His eyes rolled into the back of his head in annoyance.

“I’m not ignoring you, I’m just tired, and you’re annoying me.” To hear that he wasn’t ignoring you made you relived, but the fact that he called you annoying sparked up a new wave of anger. You picked up your phone and left the room, deciding to go elsewhere so that you didn’t ‘annoy him’ too much. Profanities left your mouth the entire time as you muttered to yourself about how selfish Jungwoo was being. In fact, you worked yourself up so much that you begin to feel dizzy, and when you realised you had nowhere to sit down, you held onto the wall, hoping you’d be fine. You weren’t; your knees gave way, and you slid to the floor, your vision reducing as every second went by.

Jungwoo heard a loud noise, and thought it was you throwing something, so he decided to diffuse the situation. He left the room, only to see you lay on the floor, and he seemed to go into shock. You’d never fainted before, and its not like you showed any signs of exhaustion or illness, so what were you doing lay on the floor. Part of him thought you were playing a joke, but after he called your name a few times, and you never so much as moved a finger, he confirmed that you had indeed fainted. When you woke up, you were in your bed, Yuta and Jungwoo at the end of your bed. Coughing, you got their attention, and Yuta gave a quick wave and left.

“You scared me, baby. I even called Yuta to help me move you onto your bed.”

MARK

You knew as soon as the argument started, it was going to get childish pretty soon. Mark couldn’t stop laughing at everything you said, getting you more and more annoyed. Honestly, you couldn’t tell whether he was just being a bit dim, and hadn’t actually realised you were upset with him, or if he was just doing it to annoy you. Either way, it was driving you up the walls.

“Can you shut up for one second, Mark?” A scowl rested on your face as you watched Mark desperately try to contain his laughter. He’d always said you were ‘cute’ when you were angry, and that’s why he laughed, but you certainly didn’t feel cute. The heat you felt radiating from your face told you it was red, and you knew you weren’t cute when you shouted, so why was Mark laughing? “You know what? I’ve had enough. Come and talk to me when you’ve grown up.”

You stormed out of the room, feeling as though you were going to burst a blood vessel if you didn’t calm down soon. Mark’s laughter had stopped, probably realising you weren’t joking around with him. He’d genuinely upset, and honestly, he wasn’t sure what to do in this situation. Sure, he’d comforted you plenty of times, but never after he himself had upset you. As he was thinking, he heard a thud. He knew that sound; you’d fallen over. A small chuckle left his mouth as he walked over to where the sound came from, wanting to check if you were okay.

When he saw your body on the floor, his first thought was to call Johnny; he’d know what to do. Johnny agreed to come over and help Mark take care of you until you’d woken up. He made sure to rip into Mark about upsetting you to the point where you fainted as soon as he’d lifted you onto the sofa and gotten a glass of water for you when you woke up (as well as one for a very stressed Mark). In fact, the first thing you heard was Johnny’s voice. It was calm, but he still sounded angry when he spoke. You felt bad for Mark, even though he’d upset you, so you made a sound, getting everyone’s attention.

“Oh my god, (Y/N). I never thought you’d go this far to make me grow up.”

HAECHAN

If there was a way to win in an argument against him, you would have found it by now. But you hadn’t, so there wasn’t. Every argument with him led to the two of you going around in circles with Haechan being his usual petty self. Most arguments would lead to the two of you going into different rooms until one of you broke first and went to the other for comfort. 

The argument had upset you, so there you were, sat on your bed. Something boring was playing on your laptop, but you were too busy getting worked up over the argument. Donghyuck had said some pretty hurtful things, not that you’d been any better. You regretted it, of course, but he started the argument, and he was the first one to use insults to win.

Overthinking was your worst trait. You weren’t even bothered about what your boyfriend said, more worried about whether you’d upset him or not. You’d not heard him in a while, meaning he was cooling off too. Your head was full of thoughts that were only upsetting you, making you more and more stressed as the minutes ticked by. You ended up sat under the quilt, your chin tucked into your knees as you cried, feeling sick about everything that you’d said. That was when your vision began to get splotchy, black patched appearing here and there, until your whole vision was clouded.

Donghyuck felt just as bad about what he’d said to you, but all he wanted was your arm’s wrapped around him and your forgiveness. As much as the two of you insulted each other, you couldn’t go long without seeing each other, or cuddling. He made his way up to your bedroom, opening the door to see a mound under the quilt. He smiled, thinking you were sleeping, but when he shook your body to wake you up, you didn’t. His heart began to beat faster as he tried more and more ways to wake you up. Eventually he gave up, choosing to sit next to you on the bed, watching for any movement. The moment your eyes began to flicker, he pounced on you, holding you tightly against him.

“Don’t you dare pass out on me again. I love you too much.”

[modern-vellichor]

Grief, is a Beautiful Thing

Stage One; Denial

Warnings: Grief!! Mentions of death, suicide. Loss of a major character. Battles with depression, silent tears, heart and gut wrenching sadness, indirect and very minor smut just to keep you on your toes.

Prologue || Series Masterlist

Denial; refusal to acknowledge an unacceptable truth or emotion or to admit it into consciousness, used as a defense mechanism.

You acted fine, you smiled and went along like nothing happened, like Steve would just walk around the corner and kiss your forehead, just like old times.

You took his place at the head of the table for a while, hell, you took over the whole compound. You were planning missions, doing research, organising accommodation and transport, planning classic Stark celebration parties.

Bucky saw through your act, of course he did. Sam did too, they were your best friends after all.

Your room was directly on top of Bucky's, down the hall from Sam's. When they walked by your door late at night, sometimes they would hear sniffling, little secret whimpers and whines. They never said anything.

You threw yourself into not only your work, but replacing your family. You treated Peter like a younger brother, and Morgan like she was your own. Bucky and Sam would watch as you played with Morgan, helping her with homework, checking on Pepper.

Eventually, the whimpers morphed into hushed whispers.

You spoke to the moon.

Bucky could remember Steve telling him that one morning. Every night you turned to the moon and whispered a little 'goodnight', and if you were angry, or sad, you would beg her to take your problems away.

"He's gonna come back, I know he is", Bucky had his ear pressed against your door. "He's a good man, he wouldn't just leave us like that, not me, especially not Bucky"

He smiled, it was sad and small and it didn't reach his eyes.

Nightly you would talk to her, the lady in the sky, glowing bright and bringing you peace. There she was, all the time, never leaving you. You started to go numb, your body shutting down, your brain struggling to cope. You fell. And Bucky was there to catch you.

Barnes was away on a mission, on that you had organised, you completely forgot. You were lost in a state of doubt and self pity you didn't even hear your door click open. You didn't register the light spilling into your room from the hallway, or the thud of thick combat boots being chucked onto the floor. You didn't flinch when the mattress dipped next to you, only did your eyelids flutter when a cool, metal arm was thrown over your waist.

"Hey, Buck", you sighed, eyes closed.

"What's wrong?"

What's Wrong. He asked that at least once a day. Once a day he asked a question who's answer was so blatantly obvious, but you never told the truth.

Never once did you utter, 'the love of my life left me for another woman, or, 'l lost my mentor and father figure because I wasn't smart enough, not even, 'my best friend sacrificed herself to save me and half the fucking planet'.

No, you always just smiled, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, his back, his arm -never his hand- and whispering, "Nothing, Buck, I'm fine"

He never argued either, just smiling back, pain and sad, but a smile nonetheless. He never pressed further, he never asked if you needed help, he was just there. He was a failsafe, he was always there, just in case you needed him. Right now, you did, but you were in Denial.

So he pulled you closer to himself, wrapping the duvet around the both of you. His breath fanned over the bare skin of your shoulder, his fingers traced absentminded circles on the soft flesh of your hip, his eyes fluttered closed and his heart rate slowed. You waited for a while, feeling him. Feeling his steady breath and his loose grip and his slow heartbeat, just like you used to with Steve.

He was so much like Steve, in so many ways, but at the same time he was do wildly different. You thought it was beautiful, poetic. How America's Golden Boy, the model citizen, the good guy, protagonist, could be best friends with James Barnes, an army vet who couldn't give two shits even if he tried. You thought it was funny, you idolised their friendship.

"I'm sorry he left you", you whispered, voice cracking as you let the veil slip.

Tears rolled steadily down the side of your face, over the bridge of your nose, pooling on your pillow. You wrapped your fingers around his wrist, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Bucky didn't hear you, didn't feel you, he was fast asleep, somewhere far away, with Steve, happy, you hope.

"I could have stopped him. I know "I could have stopped him. I know I could have, its okay, 'll get him back", you promised your sleeping friend.

With the denial and the numbness, and the constant work, came the forgetfulness.

You were in shock, it was normal. It was always small, forgetting your keys, or to eat breakfast, but it still made Bucky worry. You were coming apart at the seams, spilling guts and your shattered heart onto the floor by his feet, and he had to pick you up, and sew you back together. You just wouldn't let him.

Often, too often, he would catch you doing something you and Steve used to do together.

You would be reading a book, mind far away, and your spare hand would reach out for him. The look on your face was pain and regret and anger all in one, tears pricking your eyes as you recoiled your now balled up fist.

On the jet, you would reach out for reassurance, before and after a mission, and he would be gone.

You reached out for him, his wife frame squashed into the seat next to yours. You lifted your chin to admire him, in all his blood and mud caked glory, you smiled, eyes bright and glistening, cheeks blushing as he kissed the tip of your nose.

One of your hands reached down and interlaced fingers with his, your other wrapped itself around his arm. You leaned down, bead going slack against his shoulder. He let out a breathy laugh, a lovely laugh that ignited a fire in your belly. He ran a hand over your hair, brushing dried dirt and coppery blood from your cheek.

"You did so well, baby", he whispered. "You're incredible, you know that", his words were mumbled into your hair between kisses. You giggled, you learned from the best, and you made sure he knew it.

Your hand was tucked into your chest, the image of Steve in the seat next to yours all too fresh in your mind. The jet landed with a soft thud, and you ran through the compound to your room, not even bothering to grab your bag on the way in.

Bucky spent hours trying to coax you out of your room, listening to the soft sniffles and quiet sobs.

"Y/N, doll", he begged, pleaded, "please, let me in"

He was delighted to hear the soft bad of bare feet and the clicking of your lock. He shoved his way into your room, assertive and gentle, wrapping you in a hug and kicking the door shut behind him.

It was moments like these that brought tears to your eyes. It was the domesticity of it all, the soft touched, the way he drew circles on your lower back, ran a hand through your hair. It was the way he held you until you slept, whispering sweet reassurance into your hair, soft kisses to your forehead as you wept.

The next morning you called him into your office, Sam making a joke as he walked away.

"I have a mission for you, Barnes"

"Yes, ma'am", he responded, jokingly.

"Surveillance in Budapest, drug lord, Lloyd Montgomery", you stated. You never were good at briefings, not like Steve. "two weeks stay, you're leaving tomorrow morning."

He chuckled at your expression, brows furrowed, lips pulled into a frown. "Who am I bringing? Sam?"

"No, me"

The motel room was damp and dingy, mould grew in the corners of the ceiling, the mattresses were lumpy, the curtains damp.

You rolled over uncomfortably, chasing the sweet relief of sleep that wouldn't come. Day three had trickled by ever so slowly, you should've sent Sam on this one.

You rolled over, maybe Bucky was awake. You were met by a pair of startlingly blue eyes and a mischievous grin.

"Hello, doll", he smiled.

"morning, sergeant"

"What do you want?"

You stopped, thinking for a moment. You sat up against the headboard, Bucky switching on a light and mimicking your actions.

"A story", you finally whispered, smiling. You loved Bucky's stories, tales from before the war. Adventures, memories, stories of hard liquor and pretty girls and sometimes both.

"about what, doll?"

"A girl", you loved Bucky, he was always so soft when it came to his women. He described them like the finest piece of artwork he had ever seen, like they were an otherworldly being not worthy of his touch, like he was blessed just to be acknowledged by them.

"Her name was Rosalind"

You smiled, "Pretty name, who was she?"

"My first real crush. She was a waitress at the cafe my Ma took us to on a Sunday. I used to sneak in there after school just to catch a glimpse of her", he smiled, reminiscing.

You and Bucky both loved how vivid his memory could be sometimes, even after the brainwashing. He could describe some of his core memories like they were yesterday, others were a little fuzzy.

"She was gorgeous, most beautiful broad in Brooklyn. She had this red hair, real curly, stopped just below her shoulders. Real pale skin, too, freckles everywhere, and I mean everywhere"

You laughed at the little comment, waiting for him to continue.

"She wore these real thick glasses, right on the tip of her nose, she had the thickest Brooklyn accent I've ever heard, too. And these gorgeous brown eyes, they looked like they were just holes, like never ending or something, portals, I dont know", you laughed again, this time he joined you.

"Anyway, one day she caught me staring, wrote her address on my napkin. I showed up at her door that evening, told Ma I was staying with Steve. She had this birthmark, on her back. It started at the apex of her thigh and ended just above her hip, she called me Buckaroo when she said goodnight. Gave me a kiss, right on the tip of my nose and said, "See you tomorrow, Buckaroo""

You smiled, a pang of jealousy settling in your stomach, but you brushed it off. "She sounds real pretty, Buck"

"Oh she was, nice too, polite and friendly, real smart, kinda like you", you blushed at the compliment.

Bucky said a quick goodnight, turning off the light and falling asleep, you following after.

The lights were low. Music hummed softly, a hand wrapped in yours. Your eyes trailed up the arm, to find Bucky at the end of it, smiling down at you. He placed a quick kiss on your lips, "c'mon, pup"

He pulled you through the crowd, away from the party, a dress danced around your heel clad ankles as you jogged to keep up with him. He pulled you into an elevator, sporting that signature mischievous grin of his.

Next thing you know you were tangled under the sheets, Bucky on top of you placing soft kisses down your neck, sucking softly on your pulse spot.

"You're so beautiful, doll", he hummed, "so, so beautiful, all for me"

A thin layer of sweat was forming on your skin, Bucky still covering you with sweet kisses as one hand tangled in your hair, the other working it's way between your legs.

Your name fell off his lips like a mantra, a litany, a prayer for redemption, "Y/N, Y/N", over and over again like it was addictive.

"Y/N", Bucky shook you awake, you had broken out in a cold sweat. He wrapped his arms around your shaking frame, "Its okay, doll, it was just a dream. You're alright, I'm right here, doll, right here".

[headcanonsandmore]

“Fell In Love With A Girl”, Chapter Two

Summary:  Ginny and Luna discover what the secret service agents have discovered about the mysterious group targeting florists and plant research departments. And a new world of danger and espionage becomes impossible to ignore.

Tagging: @lytefoot @cheeseanonioncrisps

TWs are in the tags. 

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                          Read on FFN.                                 Read on AO3. 

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Remus Lupin smiled at them all as he sat down at the kitchen table. Like Agent Shacklebolt, he had an ear-piece attached, but he didn’t look as at-home wearing it like the MI5 agent did.

‘So… if we have security clearance, that means we can be told certain things?’ Ginny asked. ‘About what you’ve discovered so far?’

Remus Lupin nodded.

‘That’s correct. However, before we start, I should stress that this information is of the utmost secrecy, and cannot be repeated to anyone without security clearance.’

Luna, Ginny, Neville and Ron all nodded.

Kingsley Shacklebolt leaned forward in his chair.

‘We believe that the break-ins are one small part of the actions of a large crime syndicate,’ he said, his tone serious. ‘They are a worldwide organisation, and have been connected to various criminal conspiracies, illegal chemical weapons manufacturing, and… well, more than a few murders, to say the least.’

‘We have reason to suspect that the branch of the organisation responsible for the break-in at Ms Lovegood’s shop are part of a worldwide scheme,’ Remus Lupin added. ‘Rare plant research has been going missing across virtually every continent on earth and, on every occasion, it has been relating to certain types of plant bacteria. One plant that the organisation seems especially interested in is the Amazonian Octarine-Flame.’

Luna started, her eyes growing wide with alarm.

‘A-Amazonian Octarine-Flame?’ she repeated, her voice quavering. ‘Someone came into the shop yesterday morning asking about it.’

‘Any distinguishing features?’

‘They were wearing black, and they were… fairly tall and thick-set. And… well, they wore large sunglasses that hid most of their face. But that’s not why I’m worries. I… I think someone was in my shop last night.’

‘Wait…’ Ginny said, her eyes widening in horror. ‘You mean… when you went downstairs in the night?...’

‘That was likely a scout for the crime syndicate,’ Remus Lupin said, softly. ‘Ms Lovegood, you are extraordinarily lucky; usually they don’t let people live if they’ve been seen.’

Ginny, her face pale, intertwined her fingers with Luna’s.

‘I’m okay, Ginny,’ Luna whispered, softly.

The redhead nodded, still looking worried.

‘Like we said,’ Agent Shacklebolt continued. ‘The break-ins are all to do with rare plants native to South America. The plants themselves and the research surrounding them. So… I put forward the plan that we track the syndicate. We start in Rio, Brazil, and move out into the Amazon delta when we are confident in a lead.’

‘Hang on,’ Ron said, crossing his arms. ‘That sounds like trespassing in a sovereign nation without checking with the local authorities first.’

‘I would normally agree with you, but this case is different. The British secret services are already liaising with our opposite numbers in Brazil, as well as with Interpol. Not to mention… well, the head of the crime syndicate is a British citizen.’

Agent Shacklebolt pulled a photograph out of his pocket, and placed it on the table. It was a grainy still image, that seemed to have been captured by CCTV camera, and looked several years old. There was a figure, shrouded in black but his face pale and thin. He was completely bald and his eyes seemed to glow red.

‘This is… well, his alias is Voldemort.’

‘French for “In Flight of Death”,’ Remus Lupin added. ‘But his civilian identity was that of Tom Riddle, an illegitimate son of minor nobility.’

Luna stared down at the face.

‘Most people have that reaction the first time,’ Agent Shacklebolt said, noticing her horrified expression. ‘It’s the eyes, isn’t it?’

‘He doesn’t look like any toff I’ve ever seen,’ Ron said, wrinkling his nose slightly. ‘Usually, they don’t look so intimidating. What’s with the bald head?’

‘He didn’t used to look like that,’ Remus Lupin replied. ‘Once, he was even considered a rather handsome young man. But that was a long time ago. Before he discarded his name and submerged into the world of international crime. He’s at the top end of every security organisation’s most wanted list.’

‘Yeesh,’ Neville said. ‘And I thought normal toffs were bad enough.’

‘Ms Lovegood,’ Agent Shacklebolt said, addressing Luna. ‘Mr Longbottom and yourself are two of barely a handful of people in Britain who know about these Amazonian plants. We’d like you both to come with us to Rio.’

Ginny looked up at Neville, feeling very confused.

‘Er, Professor Sprout taught me,’ Neville said, modestly. ‘Luna’s better at the theory than I am, though.’

He turned to Agent Shacklebolt.

‘Count me in,’ he said, his voice level. ‘I want to help. I’m not a spy, but I can help out with the research into the plants as best I can.’

Agent Shacklebolt smiled.

‘We wouldn’t be asking you to spy,’ he replied. ‘We have people for that. But the talents of yourself and Miss Lovegood will aid us greatly, especially as we ascertain where the syndicate is based in the Amazon delta.’

Ginny caught eyes with Luna, and the blonde woman squeezed her hand.

‘I… I’ll come,’ Luna said, steadily. ‘I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but…’

‘It will be dangerous,’ Remus Lupin said, slowly. ‘Very dangerous. You will each be given a security detail, but you will need to keep your wits about you nonetheless.’

Ginny felt her stomach drop. Luna really was going to go to South America, into a world of criminal organisations and dangerous situations. Yes, she would be with Neville and the secret service people, but still. What if something happened to her? What is she… Ginny couldn’t even finish that thought.

Without thinking, Ginny squeezed Luna’s hand, and spoke.

‘I’m coming along too.’

Remus Lupin and Agent Shacklebolt shared a quick look.

‘Ms Weasley,’ Agent Shacklebolt said. ‘We are talking about a crime syndicate that thinks nothing of murder and widespread destruction.’

‘I don’t care.’ Ginny replied, firmly. ‘They broke into Luna’s shop, and they could have easily killed Luna last night. No-one messes with my Lu.’

Remus Lupin smiled.

‘I believe we can make an exception in this case.’

Agent Shacklebolt sighed, and nodded.

Luna squeezed Ginny’s hand, a soft smile stretching across her face.

 *

 The next morning, Ginny and Luna took the tube to Heathrow. It was an overcast, drizzly day, and people scurried down from the streets above like rats escaping into the sewer. Except that rats are normally a lot happier about it.

Ginny felt weirdly nostalgic for the rural Devon of her childhood. She loved living in the city, but sometimes she did grow tired of the frantic pace of life. Well, she wouldn’t have to worry about living in a cold, rainy metropolis for a little while, at the very least. Even if it was going to be more dangerous.

Neville had already left on a plane the previous evening. It had been decided that they shouldn’t all go to Rio at the same time, just to avoid any additional suspicion. Ron had texted Ginny earlier that morning, saying that he wished both Ginny and Luna the best of luck, and that he’d be keeping in contact with Agent Shacklebolt until they were all safely back in the UK.

The two women entered Heathrow’s main entrance, and spotted Remus Lupin stood outside a café, with someone that they didn’t recognise; a short woman with mousy brain hair.

‘Ms Lovegood, Ms Weasley,’ Remus said, holding a takeaway cup. ‘Allow me to introduce Nymphadora Tonks.’

The woman smiled cheerily at them.

‘Wotcher,’ she said, grinning. On closer inspection, her hair had pink highlights. ‘Although Tonks is preferable, if you please.’

‘Er, sure,’ Ginny said. ‘Are you…’

‘Security detail,’ Tonks said, sensing what Ginny was alluding to.

Ginny blinked. The woman was several inches shorter than both her and Luna.

‘Oh, don’t look so shocked,’ Tonks laughed. ‘I’m a master of several martial arts. You wouldn’t believe the various ways I can wrap my legs around people.’

Remus Lupin choked on his coffee, and Tonks burst out laughing. Ginny couldn’t help noticing that Lupin’s ears had gone red, in much the same way that Ron’s used to when he was flustered around Hermione.

Interesting.

‘Seriously, though, it’s nice to meet you both,’ Tonks said. ‘I’ve heard good things about you.’

‘Since this is coming from a punk with pink hair, I’ll take that as a compliment,’ Ginny said, chuckling.

‘You should,’ Tonks replied, grinning. ‘I am a bit more style-conscious than most of my peers. Or, as I call them, the black jacket and tie brigade. But Remus is alright, I suppose.’

Remus Lupin smiled to himself.

The four of them checked in their bags, and -a few hours later- Luna and Ginny found themselves in a plan bound for South America. Tonks and Remus Lupin had spread out, so as not to attract too much attention, but Luna and Ginny had been allowed to have two seats together.

‘Ginny?’

The redhead opened her eyes, and turned to look at her girlfriend.

‘Hmmm?’

‘I’m… I’m worried.’

‘What? About what will happen after we get to Rio?’

The blonde woman nodded.

Ginny reached under Luna’s blanket, and squeezed her hand.

‘What is gonna happen is that we’ll get everything sorted,’ Ginny continued, her voice soft. ‘And, if anyone tries to hurt you, they’ll have to go through me first.’

Luna smiled, squeezing Ginny’s hand in return.

‘You don’t have to do that.’

‘You’re my girlfriend,’ Ginny said. ‘I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you. Ever.’

The skin around Luna’s eyes crinkled as she stared at the redhead.

She leaned over, and rested her head on Ginny’s shoulder. Within a few moments, she had fallen asleep. Ginny smiled to herself, enjoying the feeling of Luna’s soft breath against her skin. She found herself drifting slowly to sleep, enjoying the brief bit of relaxation before they reached the unknown situation awaiting them in Rio.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, everyone! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you want to follow this series, subscribe to it or -if you prefer to be notified via Tumblr- ask me to add you to the tag list.

Thanks again for reading! :)

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid 188

188

   Keith woke feeling the best he had in days. Coffee in the air and Lance had moved him to rest his head on his upper leg. He didn’t like face masks. Having his eyebrows waxed brought tears to his eyes. His nails had some kind of clear nail polish on them... but Lance had sent him into a whole other kind of bliss by playing with his hair. He’d found himself rambling, and making weird grunting kind of noises as Lance untangled his hair then started brushing it. After that he was very much a sook. Dazed and dopey, he’d been bopped on the head when he’d missed Lance asking him to help pack his go bag, his boyfriend comparing him to his coffee deprived morning zombie state, giving up asking anything from him other than his shirt to scent the things in his go bag.

  Wanting Lance to feel as blissed as he did, he tried his very hardest as he massaged Lance’s back, legs and feet. He’d failed to really notice how Lance’s feet seemed swollen. His ego felt he’d let Lance down by not noticing how painful it must be for his lover. Lance only mentioned the pain in his back and hips, then his breasts as his milk came in. Oiling Lance up was not without its issues. Lance insisted on wearing a towel around his groin to cover his bits during the massage. Keith didn’t see the point. Lance had a cute arse, which he wasn’t supposed to point out. Watching his boyfriend, he wanted to touch him, yet with his belly on display he felt awful about the nursery and shooting Lance down as he had. Going for an apology blow job, Lance pushing him back with a foot to his shoulder, declaring no touching until he’d had the rest of his pampering.

  His boyfriend was a shit.

  Using the same face mask as Lance, it made Keith’s skin tingle. Lance explaining face masks should be a sometimes treat and all these weird things about toners being bad for skin and coconut oil being even worse. After face masks came a bubble bath, where Keith was forced between Lance’s legs and Lance played with his hair again. The whole thing felt like they were following some kind of unfun torture manual. Self care seemed too much like hard work. After that came a short break, then the wax went on... then the nails were trimmed and painted, then the wax came off and it was not fun. Keith wasn’t sure the what exactly about it brought tears to his eyes, yet he would have preferred to keep his budding monobrow and hairy toe tops. How Lance could possibly seem fine with waxing other places was weird. For a day of pampering, Keith definitely felt he’d feel better about facing a half starved vampire than he would about facing all of this again. Huffy, Lance laughed at his grumbling, rewarding him with head pats, and a braid that Matt pouted over when he came home.

  Whatever his personal thoughts on the matter where, his ego had responded. He felt almost constantly cocky over looking good for their mate. He didn’t think he looked that different. Maybe a few less eyebrow hairs... Noticing he was awake, Lance moved his hand to stroke his hair

“I made you coffee”

Mmm... He was loved. Wriggling closer to Lance, he nosed at his boyfriend’s leg. Lance should have woken him up when he’d gotten up

“You hate the smell”

“Eh, I was throwing up anyway”

He could smell his coffee. It was so close. If he could reach around Lance, he’d have his coffee... but that meant giving up pats

“I thought that’d settled”

“It’s a bit better but yeah, no, this morning I went to have some toast and blargh. I decided to get a few things organised. We’re going to Platt today”

  The idea of pats disappeared with the need for coffee. When Lance got in a mood, he knew better than to try and stop him. Dragging himself up to sit, Lance passed him his coffee, phone in his left hand as his thumb hovered over the screen. With the coffee cool enough to drink, he swallowed it down, grateful for the caffeine and that his boyfriend would withstand the scent for him. Passing the mug back, Lance chose to throw his phone down with a sigh where it landed next to the mug

“Should I ask?”

“I’ve been up since 5”

“What’s the time now?”

“Nearly 8”

  That’s three hours of rest Lance could have been having. Keith groaned at the idea, pulling the blanket up as he curled into Lance

“You should have been resting”

“I had things to do”

No. In Keith’s world it was far too early for those things. Lance should have switched his brain off and accepted cuddles

“Sleep is better”

“Says the lazy werewolf. I’ve booked the accomodation, and talked to Coran. He said he’d see me today and if it’s all good, we can go”

  Keith blinked, his eyes feeling gritty with sleep. He needed more time for the caffeine to kick in

“Babe?”

Humming, Keith couldn’t quite word what he wanted to word, since he didn’t know what he wanted to word. Too many words were coming at him

“I know. I’m terrible. I couldn’t get back to sleep, my head wouldn’t shut up”

“Ugh”

Yep. That summed up his current intelligence

“Pretty much”

  On the table Lance’s phone vibrated. Lance ignoring the device though Keith felt him tense

“Babe?”

“It’s alright. You know how Matt fixed my laptop, I had him figure out how to send those photos to Veronica and now she’s trying to talk to me”

Ah. That explained why Lance couldn’t get back to sleep

“You don’t have to talk to her”

“I know. I want to get a lot done in Platt today, so you’re going to have to get up”

   Lance got another coffee into him, while Keith had forced his boyfriend to drink some blood before they left for Platt. Lance not letting him drive as he’d drank from him, his boyfriend uncomfortable behind the steering wheel. Closing his eyes for the drive, car sickness was apparently not cured by turning into a werewolf. Lance asked him once or twice if he needed to pull over, Keith humming it off. His ego seemed to be like “What the heck is this?”. With Lance wanting to get things done, Keith hoped those things didn’t involve seeing people, not after how his last shopping trip had gone.

  It turned out Lance had that covered. He’d been as busy as he’d said he’d been. First stop was VOLTRON... which was funnily enough Keith’s only stop. He didn’t know why Lance had brought him, only that he was mad as heck when Lance explained, after his scan, that he and Curtis were going shopping, leaving Keith with Shiro and Krolia for the time being. He knew he was useless, yet he couldn’t help feeling lied to. Lance had made it seem as if he wanted to do whatever it was together. That he wanted him around. And that getting whatever it was done, would finally result in them getting to leave Garrison . Instead, his boyfriend had gone off with his friend, leaving him to the mercy of Shiro and his mother, when all he wanted to do was sleep of his nausea.

   *

Lance had snapped. He’d officially snapped. He’d called Coran up, crying for reasons he wasn’t exactly sure of outside of him feeling very done with being pregnant. Keith had really settled in the last two days. He’d hated being pampered, and though Lance had laughed at his grumbling, he couldn’t deny being slightly hurt that Keith had enjoyed their time together. He’d tried his best to make it enjoyable for Keith, only for Keith to hate all of it.

  The worst bit was that his ego felt insulted. He wanted to get things ready for giving birth. The closer to surgery, the less he’d be able to do. He’d planned to have this done already, and now it hurt to look at the nursery each time he came up the stairs. For an old house, he’d realised how much he’d changed the floor plan, leaving certain spaces and gaps between walls for better aesthetics. If he were to knock down two of the upstairs walls, or at least move them, there’d be enough space for another small bedroom. When he’d gotten things the way he liked, and wanted, he’d become set that that was how they should stay. Now he had the urge to make a second bedroom from that lost space and maybe replan his bathroom.

  Coran copped the full version of his rambling. The fae assured him that many, many people felt the need to ensure things were perfect before giving birth. Lance only crying harder as none of his friends got it and he wanted his Mami. Then Veronica had replied to the photos, asking how his life was, and he’d felt lost all over again. Right now he felt like he needed someone to hold his hand, yet Keith couldn’t do crowds and he couldn’t fight the feelings of need to get things done any longer.

    Parking in front of the hardware store, Curtis let out a sigh. They’d barely talked since Coran had volunteered Curtis to go with him on his errands. Lance too preoccupied in his wallowing as he drove. Cutting the ignition and looking to Curtis, Lance let out a sigh of his own

“I know”

“He seemed pretty upset”

“Yep”

Then again, Lance had been too. He’d wished Keith was there to rub his stomach as he threw up, yet his stupid ego was all bent out of shape over their werewolf not seeming to care about how much stress he was under not having the nursery done

“Should I ask?”

  Without the curse Curtis had free reign to ask as he pleased in his own words. Lance almost missed him blurting things out

“It’s ego stuff. Like I’m all panicked over the nursery and right now I need to settle my ego before I can calm down”

“Ah”

“Pretty much. I know he’s going to be pissed, but I can’t keep waiting for things to fall into line. It scares me. The idea of the nursery not being ready in time”

“I’m sorry...”

Lance shook his head. He shouldn’t have worded it that way. He didn’t blame Curtis. He blamed life

“You have nothing to apologise for. That was the demon acting out. I could have fixed it ages ago, but everything’s been so busy. I did a click and collect order, so all we have to do is the collect bit”

“Are you going to come in?”

  What else was he going to do? He knew he upset Keith by leaving him with Shiro and Krolia, especially on the back of dragging his boyfriend out of bed, but today was a day for errands and Keith couldn’t handle crowds. No. He didn’t particularly want to go in, yet he didn’t have much choice if he wanted to get things done

“I know we’re close in looks, but I can handle this much”

Curtis sighed, Lance knowing he deserved it

“Should I ask why you haven’t talked to Keith about this?”

“Dude, if you want to ask me stuff, you don’t need to ask my permission first. As for Keith, it’s a bit... yeah. He’s still going through a lot, but he just doesn’t seem to get how much I need to get this done”

“I’m being a pain, aren’t I?”

  Today seemed to be his day for upsetting people. He couldn’t cope with that on top of everything on his list. Better to nip it in the bud before it went further

“No. You’re not. I’m grateful you agreed to helping me out, even if I hijacked your plan. I’m just being impatient”

“I didn’t have any plans. Shiro keeps making me rest. If it’s not therapy with Coran, then it’s home at the apartment. He got upset when I dared to bring paperwork home so I’d have something to do”

  Curtis had mentioned before that he wasn’t really coping. Lance could see why Shiro wouldn’t want him pushing himself, still, he knew how annoying it was to be left with your thoughts

“He had a huge scare. The whole floor was filled with energy from the demon. He’s probably trying to overcompensate seeing how long it took for you to recover from the summoning”

“It’s nothing compared to what Keith went through”

  Curtis sounded hurt at the memory. Lance was going to have to drive it into his brain that he wasn’t to blame even if it killed him

“What Keith went through isn’t your fault. With how many times he’s hit his head, no one could have predicted that happening. He’s getting there. He’s been super clingy lately, you should have seen him the other day, give him head pats and everything is forgiven. I suppose Shiro would have told you he had a freak out, but even then, he was mainly scared for Hunk than for himself. I did kind of tell him we had errands, and didn’t exactly tell him I was leaving him at VOLTRON... besides, he needs to socialise. He can’t stay at home forever. VOLTRON was the safest and best option, and it gives me a bit of a breather”

Curtis arched an eyebrow, tone teasing as he replied

“So you left him at werewolf day care. Not even a parent yet and you’re sending your kids away”

  Rolling his eyes at Curtis, Lance then punch him lightly on the arm

“It’s not “day care”. It’s “werewolf care”. Besides, Keith will tell you himself that he’s not a kid”

“Yes. I heard about that. Shiro was lamenting over how much Keith has grown. Don’t tell Keith, but I think Shiro misses being the cooler older brother”

Shiro was cool in his own head. Lance wasn’t about to start bagging Shiro over things, he would have preferred not to be talking about Shiro yet he’d been the one to go there

“Shiro’s still his brother, but I don’t know about the cool bit. I have a sneaking suspicion he’s just as lame as I am. And if you think about it, Keith’s going to slow down aging now he’s turned. He’s always going to be the older brother, even when he’s all old and wrinkly”

“He still misses Keith”

  Well there was nothing Lance could do about that. Keith was free to go to Shiro if he wanted to. Heck, he’d even free up space for Curtis and Shiro if they needed brother time that badly

“You guys still welcome any time. I know we’re leaving before you are, but that’s because we need some us time”

“I know. It’s hard being in the middle”

“That’s like the last thing I wanted. It really is. I know Shiro is important to Keith, and I don’t want Shiro to feel like he can’t reach out to Keith. Keith just... he really thinks he’s not improving fast enough. I know everyone leapt to my side and I hate that. I’m kind of hoping the four of us can reconnect while we’re away, without the outside interference of the others”

“I’m honestly looking forward to that too. It’s been so long since I was human that even the simple things seem way more interesting than they were”

“I wish I could say I got that. All I’ve got is death. Anyway, I’ve booked your room next to ours. The towns so small they only have one hotel, so there wasn’t a whole lot of options”

Curtis nodded, finally undoing his seatbelt

“Want to make a bet about which one is going to be clingier when we get back?”

Lance wasn’t taking money that easily from a friend

“Oh, no. I already know that’s going to be Keith. You should see him. I feel like he tolerated me playing with his hair before, but now he can’t get enough of it. I caught him drooling the other day when I was playing with his hair”

“I kind of want to see that”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get the chance. Ugh. Now to go people”

“If you want me to go...”

Lance shook his head firmly

“No. It’s okay, but don’t think I’m not treating you to lunch for coming out with me”

“I’m down for that”

    What Keith didn’t know, other than the fact he’d seemed to zone out while Lance was telling him about the errands, was that the vampire had ordered new clothes while he was shopping. As well as a little something he was pretty confident that Keith would like, though that surprise had nothing to do with the reason he’d left Keith behind. He’d prepared himself for most of their time alone together to be in the hotel room, and with the amount of stress he was putting himself through, he didn’t feel as sexy as Keith seemed to find him. He wanted to look good for Keith. He wanted to feel good about his body, though it was hard when he felt like a fat lump every time he’d sit down after a shower and stare down at all this extra “him” that hadn’t been there before. So aside from the hardware store, they also made two other stops, then a third unplanned stop when his ego wouldn’t shut up. At their third stop he’d tried to call Keith, only for the call to go unanswered... as did the next two calls.

  Everything in the nursery was supposed to be chosen by the pair of them, but Lance couldn’t let go of wanting a chair for the nursery, as Curtis had been subjected too in the form of deep signs whenever they passed a furniture store. He couldn’t let go of the desire to have it organised. The chair was almost as important to him as the cots they’d chosen. He wanted a chair for feeding the twins, and a chair where he’d be able to sit and read bedtime stories to the pair of them. The kind of chair where they’d be able to sit on his lap, for snuggles and turning the pages of the pictures books with him. Keith might not get how much that meant to him, but as the youngest of the family, stray furniture had seemed to end up in his room. He could remember in Cuba the chair his Mami would use for the same reason, and god knew how much he wished he knew what had happened to it. So far none of the chairs they’d passed were that chair, though that might be him putting too much thought into picking one. He’d kind of been a bit vocal about the ones he didn’t like, with his tastes clashing against Curtis’s suggestions. This whole mess was why he needed Keith to see. To choose with him. That his boyfriend wouldn’t answer his calls left him with silent tears over his own stupidity.

  Seeing how dejected he was that Keith hadn’t answered, Curtis took Lance’s hand in his, drawing more than a few stares over the sudden seemingly intimacy between the pair. He’d heard the sales staff sighing the moment they laid eyes on him. The weather was warm and sunny, he must have looked like some kind of addict with the way he’d bundled up. Lance had dressed with getting things done in mind. His beanie covered his short hair. The scarf around his neck his his Adam’s apple, he’d chosen a long sleeve black shirt that made his tiny tits annoyingly obvious under a heavy winter jacket that had long passed the point of being able to button, and anything he had to say he kept clipped. If he couldn’t hide being pregnant he could only go with the flow. Even if going with the flow led to very curious looks. Curtis had been by his side, but with their looks people wrongly assumed them family rather than potential lovers, now they seemed to be going off script.

  “Babe, what do you think of this one?”

Asking loudly, Lance didn’t know what to make of this sudden change in his friend. Especially in the face of the absolutely hideous chair in front of them

“You can’t be serious”

“Why not?”

It was pink with gold trim, the fabric fake leather and horrendous. The shape was all wrong for cuddling in. Plus, it was a massage chair and he didn’t want something they’d have to plug in. It was absolutely not what he wanted

“It’s awful”

Placing his hand over Lance’s arm, Curtis smiled creepily at him

“Why don’t we test it out?”

“What? Okay. What are you doing?”

Curtis leaned in to whisper

“There’s two sales people of there who haven’t stopped staring at us. Keith’s not here, so why not have a little fun”

  What the heck was he supposed to do with that? They were staring and now seemed almost scandalised to hear Curtis call him “babe” loudly. Neither of them seemed keen on approaching, and the signs clearly said not to sit on the chairs. Even if they were snooty, he didn’t really want to pick a fight

“I don’t know...”

“Here, come sit down”

Sitting down as he was told, Lance was sceptical over things. Curtis moving to place his hands on the top of the chair, the thing started moving beneath him, despite not being plugged in

“What the hell?!”

Curtis laughed, Lance tilting his head back to look up at him

“Are you doing this?!”

Curtis gave a wink and a shrug

“It seems the electrical thing kind of stuck. I reckon there’s at least half an hour’s worth of power in here now”

  Him sitting seemed to work as a magical beacon to summon one of the workers over. Lance wasn’t particularly in a shit stirring mood, yet the scowl on their face annoyed him. They probably had to deal with the same thing over and over

“Ma’am, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you not to sit in the chairs. We have plastic slips if you’d like to try the feel of them”

His ego flared at “ma’am”. He wasn’t a “ma’am”. He didn’t look old enough for a starters and the plumbing situation was all wrong. The way she spoke...

“Oh, we’re so sorry. You see, my darling honey here is heavily pregnant with twins. I suggested it”

The worker turned their scowl to Curtis. Curtis had managed to sound apologetic enough, but there was just something in the way the woman set her lips that pissed him off

“I’m afraid I can’t bend the rules, sir. Not even for... pregnant customers. Street clothes carry many contaminants that may ruin the fabric, and there’s your condition to think of”

Lance found that instantly rude. Pregnancy wasn’t a disease to be caught. Sugar sweet he batted his eyelashes at Curtis

“Honey, we best do as the woman says”

“Are you sure? You had your heart set on getting a chair today”

“This one gives such a horrible massage. Will you please help me up”

Lance added a pout for good measure, Curtis “hurrying” around to take his hand and help him stand

“We obviously can’t buy a chair that hurts your back. You need to be careful with your body, you know what the doctor said”

  Watching the pair of them, Lance schooled his face as he stared at the sales woman who was now staring at him as if he were dumb

“This particular model isn’t currently plugged in. We do have similar models if you’d...”

Letting Curtis tug him slightly sideways, the movements of the massage chair stalled the sales woman’s words. The cord neatly wound around the lever to turn the chair into a recliner, very clearly not plugged in, despite the fact the chair was currently moving. Turning his head, Lance widened his eyes in fake alarm

“It’s not plugged in!”

The sales woman had no words. Lance didn’t particularly like picking on retail staff, yet he had to bite his lip from laughing at the expression on her face. Utter disbelief

“I don’t think I can shop at a store where the staff don’t know their products. This obviously dangerous. I’m so sorry. If anything were to happen to you, I’d never be able to explain to your boyfriend”

“Oh hush, you. He never has to know.”

“I know, but we can’t allow him to get too suspicious. I shudder to think if he knew I was here with you now”

“He certain is the jealous type. Perhaps we can find a chair that’s easier to clean”

  The woman’s face seemed to go through a range of expression before the colour drained. The way she twitched, she seemed ready to run to her colleagues and spill the scandal she’d been exposed to. That was until her eyes focused on the moving chair again

“Excuse me, ma’am. We’re looking for a chair suitable for a nursery. Do you happen to have something like that there”

God. The way Curtis said “ma’am” seemed to sum up all Lance’s feelings over being called “ma’am”

“Let’s go. I don’t know if I can trust haunted chairs in my house”

Plus the prices were killer. The only reason they’d come to the store was because it was across from where there’d gotten lunch. He liked his usual furniture store better

“It must be possessed by the ghost of customer service past. I guess we won’t be needing your help today. Come on, honey, we should get you home soon”

  Leading Lance away, Curtis kept his hand in his, giving the staff a little wave as the woman called out for some person named “Greg”. He felt a little shitty, until he was outside and found himself laughing far so hard he was nearly peeing himself in public. He’d never thought Curtis had that in him. He’d been so down that Keith hadn’t answered, and then Curtis went and did this

“Oh my god. You’re horrible”

“I saw them looking as we walked in”

“God. How long do you think they’re going to be puzzling over this?”

“No clue. Maybe next time they won’t be so judgmental?”

“Or maybe they’re going to be even scareder of pregnant people?”

Scareder wasn’t a word, yet he couldn’t English out the right word

“I wonder if I do a drive by later tonight, if that chair’s going to be out the back by the dumpsters?”

“It deserves to be. It’s horrendous”

  Curtis nodded, tugging on his arm to lead him further from the door. Inside the staff were kind of freaking out over the chair, seemingly trying to explain things by blaming it on some kind of short

“Come on, we should go before they pull out the priests and pitchforks”

“I’m terrified. Maybe we should go to church?”

“I don’t know about you, but I haven’t been in a church since having the demon summoned out. Can you imagine if we both burst into flame? We’d be posted back to our boyfriends in match boxes”

  There was no reason to find that hilarious. Lance wheezing now, legs pressed together. Being with Curtis was dangerous to health of his bladder.

  On the back of the fit of laughter, Lance surrendered his keys. Curtis forced to find the first fast food restaurant so he could go clean up in the bathroom. This peeing this was rough. He felt as if something as simple as swallowing saliva seemed to mean he had to pee it back out moments later. Still, he’d needed that laugh so damn badly. They’d never be able to show their faces in that store as long as they both lived, but it was kind of worth it. His ego stopped him feeling guilty for his and Curtis’s juvenile behaviour. They hadn’t actually physically harmed anyone, only given them a slight scare, a new work rumour to gossip over, and hopefully made them think twice over being so judgmental... even if it meant no chair. That thought sobering his lingering laughter completely. He... really... couldn’t chose a chair without Keith, no matter how kind Curtis was being. They’d have to go pick him up, and hope like heck they’d find something soon, or Keith would be forced to take home a very cranky vampire on top of having been forced to spend the day in “werewolf care”.

[sambergscott]

the best thing is you

just jake, amy, and their favourite things about being parents

There are a lot of things Jake loves about being a dad: stealing his kid’s food when he can’t finish his plate, sleepy cuddles before bed, putting on voices for all the characters in his books, and wearing matching Adidas Superstars. But if he had to pick his absolute favorite number one thing, playing with Sam’s toys would come out on top.

Luckily, their apartment is filled with toys, organised by type, colour and size into various bins and baskets and labelled (Santiago Style!) so he always knows where to put stuff during tidy-up time. If Jake so much as accidentally puts one red Lego block in the yellow Lego container, Sam tuts, rolls his eyes and snitches on him to Amy later.

He has lots of toys but it’s not like he’s spoiled or anything; Amy has a big family and he gets a lot of hand-me-downs. Amy helps him write thank you cards every time he receives a new toy, they constantly remind him how lucky he is and donate his unwanted items to less lucky girls and boys.

(During one decluttering sesh, he puts his favourite truck in the giveaway pile for another kid to play with and Amy almost cries. They’re biased, but they’re pretty sure that Sam is the best kid ever).

They re-enact Ninja Turtles scenes with his action figures, roam the apartment with his dinosaurs and play shop (which consists of Sam selling Jake tinned goods that he already owns).

Both Jake and Sam’s favorite thing to play is the appropriately titled Detective Daddy game.

In short, Jake wears his badge and a tie (even over his t-shirts because, as he explains in his Grandpa Holt voice that never fails to make Sam fall over in a fit of giggles, wearing a necktie in the workplace is very important) and interrogates the three year old until he confesses to his crimes.

It usually goes like this.

“Princess Mommy has been kidnapped!”

Dramatic gasp.

“And I think you took her.”

“Me?” He clutches his chest, feigning innocence.

“I found her tiara in your bedroom, I checked the baby monitor security footage and you weren’t where you said you were and most incriminating of all, I found your fingerprints on her Amy water bottle.”

“My name’s Amy!”

(He often confuses the fact that they share one of the same names and thinks his name is Amy, not Santiago. It’s kind of adorable).

“I checked your file,” he brandishes a manila folder he stole from work and drops it on the dining room table, “and your name is Samuel.”

He gasps again. “I didn’t do it, Officer!”

“Just admit it,” Jake growls playfully, leaning forward to intimidate the suspect.

Sam climbs onto the table and closes the gap all the way, booping his nose against Jake’s and making him break character for half a second.

“Admit you kidnapped Princess Mommy,” Jake insists, tickling him until he finally surrenders.

“I did it! I did it!” He cries. “I kidnapped Princess Mommy and Queen Karen!”

Cue Jake a dramatic gasp from Jake this time.

“You’re going to jail for a long, long, long, long, long, long time!”

Jail is a pillow fort in the corner of the room.

(It’s actually cosy and super comfortable; Sam sent Jake there one time when he played the role of detective the morning after Jake had worked a night shift and he may have fallen asleep until his son decided to jump on him to wake him up so they could have more fun).

Jake scoops the dangerous(-ly cute) criminal into his arms and throws him in pillow fort prison, then rescues his Princess and Queen from the couch.

Sam can’t get enough of cop related games. It warms both Jake and Amy’s hearts that he’s so proud of what they do; it makes all the late nights and time away from him totally worth it.

Victor and Camila buy him a Police Station Lego set for Christmas and, after constructing it with mommy and daddy, it sits pride of place on top of his dresser next to a framed picture of the three of them. The next time he visits the Ninety-Ninth precinct he brags to Rosa, Charles and all the uniformed officers about how his police station is way cooler than theirs.

That very Christmas, he plays cops and robbers for the first time and kicks Santiago cousin butt. Amy high fives him in front of her brothers, thrilled that Sam is continuing her legacy of being the best at the game.

Jake will come up with elaborate (kid friendly) cases that Sam is obsessed with, for example, “oh no! Someone stole a pizza from Sal’s and is getting away!”

“Not Sal’s!” Sam cries because even at three years old, he is aware that Sal’s is the best pizza place in Brooklyn. Like father, like son.

He chases his police cars around the living room, making siren noises and eventually cutting the bad guy’s car off before he can escape towards the bedrooms down the hall.

(They’re going out for a walk when their elderly neighbour offers him one of her grandson’s fire engines that he’s got too old for. Sam declines because firefighters are for losers and the FDNY suck. Amy shoots her an embarrassed smile and herds Sam away).

When it’s time for bed and all the toys have been put away, Jake tells him the story of how a cool, leather jacket-wearing detective married the youngest female Sergeant in the history of the Nine-Nine.

Sam asks to hear it again every night.

--

There are a lot of things Amy loves about being a mom: baking chocolate muffins and pretending not to see when he steals some of raw mixture (even though he has chocolate all round his mouth), sleepy cuddles before bed, singing to Disney hits at the tops of their voices and trying not to cry when he brags about his mom being the youngest female Sergeant in the history of the Nine-Nine to everyone they meet. But if she had to pick her absolute favourite number one thing, teaching Sam to read and write and count would come out on top.

She was always good at school. She got the highest grades. She loved crawling into her dad’s lap and reading to him, glowing under his constant praise. She didn’t need any help with the big words unlike Tony and it wasn’t long before her teacher advised that she skip fourth grade.

She studied Art History at college, topped her class, and was the best in her group of recruits at the Academy, too.

As her brothers started having kids, she loved helping them read and, as they got older, helping them with homework. She especially loved when they would confide in her that she’s smarter than their dads. Beating her brothers, even as an adult, was still her greatest joy. Until she fell in love and had a kid of her own and beating her brothers was demoted to third spot.

The Santiago genes are just as strong in Sam.

He’s like Jake in a lot of ways: his dark, unruly curls, his nose, his sense of humour, his penchant for dramatic reveals.

(Running into their room at 5am shouting, “Mommy! Daddy! I didn’t wet the bed last night!”, for example).

But he is smart. Santiago-level smart.

He learns to count to twenty before all his friends, is a super reader and bilingual.

Amy has been singing him Spanish lullabies since he was a newborn, teaching him his “Por favor”s and “Gracias”s, whispering “Te amo” as she kisses him goodnight. She cries so hard the first time he says it back.

It’s very important to her that he can speak Spanish so they have  lessons with daddy on Tuesday nights. She buys a textbook and makes them sit opposite her at the dining room table like they’re actually in school.

“¿Cuántos años tienes?” She asks him after their first lesson.

“Tengo tres años,” he responds with a proud smile that has Amy gathering him into her arms and smothering him with kisses.

Rosa has been teaching Jake Spanish for a couple of years but his brain is so full of case details and Die Hard quotes that Sam quickly surpasses him, joining Amy on her side of the table.

“Tell mama she’s pretty,” he instructs.

He furrows his brow, immediately looking to Amy for help.

“Luces bien.”

“That was it!” He snaps his fingers. “Luces bien, Ames.”

She blushes, tucks her hair behind both her ears and flicks to the next page of the textbook. She’s only in one of his hoodies and leggings, she’s not even sure when she last washed her hair, but her husband makes her feel beautiful. Always has done, right back to the time he said her dress makes her look like a mermaid.

Along with Spanish, she teaches him basic geography. He knows that Cuba is the largest island in the Caribbean, that Havana is the capital city and can draw the flag with his crayons. He shows off to Camila the next time they visit and earns himself an extra cookie.

He can write his name, too, and she remarks that at age three his penmanship is already better than Jake’s.

(Jake sticks his tongue out at her, even if it’s true).

Like Amy, he loves books. Loves the silly voices Jake makes as he reads, loves reading along with Amy and love love loves reading the book of Jake and Amy (illustrated by Terry) that Jake has made for his fourth birthday.

“Don’t you want to read a different book tonight?” She questions foolishly. They’ve read it three nights in a row.

“Nope,” he grins. “Mommy and daddy’s book.”

Her heart melts as she opens the book and he snuggles into his arms.

“It was her first day at the Nine-Nine...”

--

After an interrogation that went on longer than expected, Jake missed dinner and bath time and had to break several speed limits to get home in time for his bedtime story and goodnight kisses.

He locks the apartment door behind him and follows the sound of Amy’s voice to Sam’s bedroom, recognizing the story immediately.

“I’m hearing wedding bells!” Amy reads, doing a spot on impression of Charles’ voice.

Jake stifles a laugh, leaning against the doorframe and listening to his wife recite the story he knows so well.

There are a lot of things they love about being parents, but at the end of the day, watching Sam play and learn and cuddle their spouse is the best thing of all. And soon they will get to watch them do it all over again with Baby Peralta 2: Peralta Harder.

[hero-philia]

Hey I am a little scared to ask this but can I request a headcanon for Shinsou where the reader is Porphyrophobic, which means having a huge fear of the color purple. Maybe add some angst but happy ending because this boy deserves it. Love your writing!!

First of all, thank you so much for trusting me with this request!! I’ve done a bit of research to understand what porphyrophobia is about and what the symptoms are. Please tell me, if I’ve portrayed something in a wrong way because I’ll make sure to chance it >.< 

Remember guys: This is a safe place for everyone! So don't be scared to send me requests of all kind :)

I DID NOT PROOF-READ THIS, AAAAAAH! 

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The Fear of Being Misunderstood | Shinsou x fem!Reader

-> Reader suffering from porphyrophobia, the fear of the color purple

1386 words

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With a groan Shinsou opened his heavy eyes only to be faced with darkness. Starring at the ceiling he recapped how often he had turned around to find a comfy position already and how many times he had nearly drifted off to dreamland before reality had pulled him back. Another sign of displeasure escaped his mouth when he found himself thinking about the same thing all over again. 

„God“, he sighed as he finally decided to sit up. 

His hands buried in his wild hair, he got a grim reminder for what was keeping him awake tonight. 

„Oh, Shinsou! I didn’t expect to meet you here“, Kendou said in her usually cheerful tone. „I was out shopping with a friend. Speaking of friend, this is (Y/N). (Y/N), this is my classmate Shinsou!“

But the girl that had been introduced to him as (Y/N) had just looked at him with wide eyes like she was facing a lion. The longer she had done so, the more irregular her breath had gotten until the girl had finally dropped her shopping bag to run off into the crowd. 

No matter how much he tried to recap the events, he couldn’t find a decent explanation for her behaviour. Since Kendou had left to chase after her with her dropped errands, the boy had found himself all alone yet again. Meanwhile with his feet on the ground, Shinsou buried his face in his hands. 

The way the poor girl had starred at him, pure fear in her eyes. Her body stiff with tension in every single muscle. He had no idea why, but (Y/N) really hated him. Or worse, feared him more than anything else on this planet. 

Maybe someone else had told her rumours about his past, like the bullies in elementary school and middle school had decided to do. Who knew what horrendous stories she had heard about the first year with the brainwashing quirk. Most likely she had suffered from the same state as all the others - Imagining the nightmares of what Shinsou had done with his ability before. Torture, manipulation, ruling like a demon king.

„I’m really sorry, (Y/N)“, Shinsou whispered into the dark.

Just the stars and the moon managed to bring a little bit of light into the room. If only he had been fast enough to explain himself to her. But now this chance was long gone and the simple ‚what if‘ kept him from sleeping. 

~

The next morning, a more than welcomed Sunday without classes, Shinsou basically hypnotised his cereals while fighting the urge to drop his head into the milk in order to give in to his tiredness. Normally he hated the intensity of several of his classmates, such a Tetsutetsu or Monoma this early in the morning - Before lunch to be specific. 

Reconsidering the circumstances that the image of the girl from yesterday was still ghosting around in his mind, he would love to have someone by his side to at least be annoyed from. May that be a non-stop enthusiastic Tetsutetsu or a non-stop bragging an 1-A hating Monoma. 

Back in his room he shut the door behind him before sitting down at the desk with his neatly organised study materials on it. 

In between the halfway finished homework for hero history and the stack of school book in alphabetical order his phone was charging. What finally caught his eye was the blue light, which blinked every few seconds, in the upper left corner of the display. Someone must have texted him, probably a new meme in the group chat of 1-B or Aizawa to reschedule tomorrow’s morning practice for the sake of the both of them.

He proceeded to wipe his face with his hand before he unlocked his phone. That was when his heart jumped to his throat. 

Two new messages from Kendou, a voice message and a text, the latter including the name (Y/N). 

Faster than his worries could take over his brain, he opened the chat room. Thanks to his eyes rushing way too much, he had to read the text three times until he understood what it was saying: Basically that you had wanted to send him a message, but hadn’t been brave enough because of his profile picture.

„Well, you know, it’s a selfie and therefore … purple“, Kendou had texted him. 

What on earth? This didn’t even make sense at all. So he clicked on the voice message, expecting to hear the familiar voice of his classmate while she would explain the situation and give more details. 

Hello Shinsou, this is (Y/N). The girl you’ve met yesterday in the company of Itsuka. 

Luckily the phone was laying safely on the desk as Shinsou’s head snapped into the direct of it. Chances were high that he would have dropped the device, if he had it in his heads now. Your voice echoed through his room as the voice message went on.

My behaviour was really rude when we ran into you. Itsuka has told me a bit about you and I think that you are a nice person, Shinsou. So I hope that you don’t hate me because of what happened. Though I will totally understand, if you do.

His jaw metaphorically dropped at your words. When he had obviously been the reason for your way of acting, he couldn’t be mad at you. How? There were plenty of options to choose from in order to find an explanation to be scared of him. Starting with his grumpy face, ending with his reputation.

You don’t have to listen to it, but I want to let you know what was going on. Seriously, I would have loved to talk to you. But … your hair and your eyes … N-Not that they are ugly or anything! They are totally not! Still … they are purple. I have a condition called porphyrophobia. This means that I’m afraid of the color purple.

For a second the boy didn’t know what to think of it. On the other hand you had absolutely no motivation to make up something like this and since you had already recorded this message for him, it had to be true. 

The way your voice had changed from being a tad bit excited and nervous at the same time to being filled with seriousness once you had begun to explain your burden, it got his attention like nothing else had recently.

When I faced you yesterday, the anxiety inside of me took over. I didn’t mean to treat you like this and I’m really sorry. Since we will most likely never meet again, please let me tell you one last thing. Though I haven’t seen it in action, your quirk sounds pretty amazing. You will definitely become a pro hero one day. I’m rooting for you! Good luck.

With this announcement the message ended. Your voice died, but it continued to replay in his head over and over again. Especially the last words had put him in a state of disbelieve.

You, a complete stranger, that had been so afraid of him, was having high hopes for his future. Even though you knew that he was attending class 1-B and therefore not the hero course yet, you believed in him with such optimism that it paralysed him for a moment. 

A few minutes later he replied to Kendou’s original text with more than his usual Thanks. 

Kendou herself tilted her head at the new message in the chat room as it differed a lot from what she had seen coming. But then she counted two and two together before answering her classmate: This is her number […] and no, there is absolutely no purple in your profile anymore.

Instead of Shinsou’s selfie a cat looked at her in his profile, which she identified as one of the strays from the park a few streets away. The formerly purple letters of his name were now changed to a casual black. Whatever he was intending to do, he had thought it through. Itsuka smiled as she sent her reply.

He didn’t exactly know why he was doing all of this. Nevertheless he was certain to find a way to thank you for being brave enough to send that voice message. 

You deserved it. 

-----

(A/N) - I’m seriously considering a part 2 of this! Shinsou needs more appreciation on my blog >.<

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Posted: April 7th 2020 | Requests: Open | Match-ups: Closed

[sunsetinmyvein]

I Know That I’ll Lose - Chapter Three - I Tell You Lies, But It’s Only Sometimes

It was 1am when she heard her phone buzzing relentlessly against the wood of her bedside table. She grabbed it, recognising the number that she really had to save as an actual contact. Eventually. One day. Maybe. But why was Matty calling at 1am? He was meant to be on a plane. 

“We have got to stop meeting like this.” She mumbled as she answered the call, still half asleep.

“My flight got cancelled.” He replied instantly; opting to ignore her fantastic joke.

“That’s shitty.” She said with a yawn. “When’s your next one?”

“They just asked me to come back tomorrow to find out if there’s another.” He explained. She hummed thoughtfully in response, only really sort of processing what he was saying. There was a pause on the line for a moment as Matty waited for her to put two and two together. “So… I don’t have a hotel to stay in.” He added.

“Better go book another one then.” She replied.

“But it’s midnight.” He whined. “And so last minute.” He continued.

Her brain was starting to catch up to what he was getting at now, and she sensed he would continue listing reasons it would be better for him to stay at her house rather than at a hotel all night if she let him. “No, Matty.” She said, properly awake now.

“Please?” She could practically see the pout on his face through the phone.

“Why can’t you just book another hotel?” She questioned, rubbing her eyes to get the uncomfortable feeling of being awake far too early out of them.

“You’re the one who said your place is close to the airport.” He reminded her. She had said that. Why did she tell him that? That was a bad decision.

She groaned loudly and he could already tell that she had given in. “Fine. FINE.” She caved. His quiet ‘yessss’ echoed down the line. “You’re sleeping on the couch.” She added, just in case he was getting the wrong idea.

“Aw.” He laughed.

  “I’ll text you the address and let you in when you get here.” She said, throwing the covers off and shoving some slippers on her feet.

“Wait, what? No, no, you can go back to bed. Just leave the door unlocked and I’ll let myself in.” He said, figuring it made no sense for the both of them to be losing sleep. Not over something like this, anyway.

“Firstly, no. That’s super unsafe. Secondly, no. I will wait for you to get here.” She was already out of bed at this point and starting to get a few blankets together to throw over the couch for him.

“You do a lot of waiting for me.” He quipped, the background noise of the airport filling the few seconds of silence as he let his comment hang there for a moment. She could just picture the smug look on his face as he said that.

“Shut up or I’ll take back my generous offer.” She shot back.

“Thanks! See you soon!” He said quickly, and with a click, the line was dead.

  She draped the blankets and a pillow over the couch before taking a seat and waiting for him to get here. At this hour, the airport would only be ten minutes away, so she just kept herself busy on her phone until she heard the knock at the door. When she answered it, he looked all too happy about the news that his flight had been cancelled. Almost as soon as the door was halfway open, a massive grin was plastered on his face and he instantly dropped his suitcase to wrap her up in a hug. She let him in, leading him through to the lounge room where he was going to be sleeping.

“Couch.” She said, gesturing to the three-seater sofa in the middle of the living room with bedding spread out over it. “Kitchen. Has water and glasses to hold said water.” She waved in the general direction of the kitchen in the next room. “Bathroom is that way.” She pointed down the hall. “Do you need anything else?” She asked, turning to face him.

  “I just really wanna look at all your stuff. Your house has such a different vibe to mine.” He said as he found himself drawn to all of the things around her living areas. His style of living was fairly… minimalist. He enjoyed things but didn’t own that many himself. Half of his life was spent on the road, if he had too much, he’d never be able to keep it all. So, most of his belongings were spread between a few different locations and his suitcase. This, in contrast, was extremely cluttered. Neat and organised, confined to only certain corners of the room, but cluttered nonetheless. He could tell with how things had been displayed that a great deal of care had gone into setting it all up and these items were clearly well loved. She sat down with a huff in the arm chair next to the couch he was meant to be asleep in by now, watching as he gently examined things around the room. He asked a few questions every now and again: where had she gotten this, why did she have such and such, what was the story behind that. At one point he had asked her a question and he had thought that she was trying to work out an answer, but when he had turned around, he realised that the reason for her silence was because she had fallen asleep while he was too busy fawning over inanimate objects.

  “Bollocks…” He muttered, trying to work out what to do. He already felt bad for having woken her up and making her wait out here for him to arrive, he didn’t want to wake her up again just to send her to bed. But letting her sleep on the recliner was hardly reasonable either, especially if he was supposed to be sleeping on the couch right next to it. That was just going to be awkward for whoever woke up first. He took a quick glance around the small home, eventually spotting a doorway with a bed on the other side that he suspected to be hers. Deliberating his options for a quick moment, eventually he decided that she’d probably appreciate getting a decent night’s sleep after having to get up and let his sorry ass inside. He opted not to overthink the situation and made an effort to try and switch his brain off for five seconds as he picked her up and carried her back to bed. After he had put her back safely in her bed and pulled the covers over her, he stopped for a moment.

  He had dragged someone else into his mess of a life to help him cope with shit that he should be able to deal with by now. Whenever he left the slightly darker part of his life behind, he was under the impression that he was capable of keeping himself in check. That was certainly what everyone seemed to congratulate him for; that he finally sorted it out, he got a hold of his addiction, he got himself through it. It had turned out that without company, his self-control was pretty limited. He hated how dependent that made him feel. When he was on tour and away from his friends and family, he could at least rely on the band. But, with the band already gone he wasn’t as much of himself as he usually was. However, her company felt comforting in a different way. Yesterday had gone exceedingly better than he would’ve expected it to, and he was sure that it was due to that. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, something wasn’t the same as if he would have been at those interviews with the band. But he thought that maybe he could work it out if he had enough time to. Hell, he fucking skipped out on his own flight just to hang around for one more day and see if he could do exactly that. She mumbled something as she rolled over, and he finally snapped out of it and realised he had been standing in this room for far too long now. “Creepy, Matty. Creepy. Leave.” He muttered under his breath to himself as he trudged back out into the lounge room to try and get some sleep.

  * * *

  “Sleep well?” He asked as she wandered into the lounge room the next morning. He was sat comfortably in the recliner, the blankets that had been tossed across the couch were now folded up neatly on top of it. The TV was playing some random morning news program, and he was mostly paying attention to that, other than the brief glance he threw her way as she entered. Did that man ever sleep? He looked almost exactly the same as he had when he rocked up last night.

“Not bad.” She answered, eyeing him curiously. Everything in the lounge room still seemed to be in place. Neater, even. “I fell asleep in here last night, didn’t I?” She asked eventually.

“Mmhm.” He nodded, not looking away from the TV.

“How did I end up back in bed?” She continued.

“I put you there.” He answered casually.

“I had a feeling that’s what you were gonna say.” She said, making her way into the kitchen to start finding some form of breakfast. “And I was kind of surprised to see that you hadn’t tried to worm your way in next to me. So, I wasn’t sure if that would be the correct answer.” She said with a dry laugh as she put the kettle on the stove top to boil.

  “Geez. I’m hurt that you think I’d do that.” He gasped; a hand clutched to his chest. His tone of voice sounded serious but the look on his face was still joking. “You told me to sleep on the couch. I might be a bit of an arse but I’m not a complete psychopath.” He added with a shrug as he came over to lean against the counter top.

She hummed thoughtfully at his answer, “How you act sometimes would have me convinced you don’t know where to draw the line.” That one felt like it cut him a bit deeper than he would’ve liked, but he shrugged it off.

“You have never once told me to stop acting how I do.” He pointed out. She thought about this for a moment and quickly realised that he was right. Maybe she should start doing that… Maybe. “If you did, I would. But I know there’s a line.” The silence hung between them for a moment as she thought about how to respond. She felt like she should potentially apologise for accusing him of something like that after his answer, but he continued speaking before she got the chance. He seemed to be pretty good at that. “Tea?” She gratefully took the way out of the conversation that he was offering her before it got awkward, nodding as she grabbed two mugs.

  They both prepared a quick breakfast, eating quietly in front of the background noise of the TV. She only had fairly limited supplies considering that she hadn’t expected to have to cater to a second person this morning. Which meant that they ended up stuck with buttered toast and tea, the breakfast of budget conscious champions. A decent amount of time had passed since she had woken up, and it was starting to move into mid-morning territory. So far, Matty had mentioned nothing about having to get on a plane and go home. “So, what are you going to do about your flight?” She asked him around a mouthful of toast.

“They wanted me to go back to the airport today to speak to the people and get a new one, but I think someone is just going to call me with the new details instead.” He answered, flipping channels to find something more interesting

“You just have to wait and see?” She asked with a frown.

“Yep.” He sighed, popping the ‘p’ as he said it.

  “Which, in light of that, what is there to do around here?” He glanced around the room, trying to spot something that could be used to kill the time.

“You’re intending on hanging out here?” She questioned in surprise.

“Well, I might be leaving in half an hour, I might be leaving in eight. I can’t just wander around outside like some lost puppy until they call me and tell me when.” He pointed out as he stood up and made his way over to a bookshelf.

“Why not?” She huffed.

He gasped loudly as he turned to face her, but his shocked expression gradually turned into a smile. “You wound me. You don’t want my company?” The look in his eyes and the smirk on his face suggested that he was already giving her shit for admitting that she enjoyed having him around. She shouldn’t have said anything yesterday in the bar. He was already well aware of her answer by the blush creeping onto her cheeks.

  “Okay, fine. You can stay until your flight. But I have actual things that I need to be getting done.” She finally agreed.

“But who will entertain me?” He asked with an exaggerated groan.

“Well, you can’t just expect me to drop everything I had planned for today.” She argued as she grabbed her laptop and set herself up on the couch.

“You should’ve been expecting me and freed up your schedule!” He said with a laugh.

“How could I anticipate that your flight would get cancelled and you’d rock up on my doorstep?” She asked without looking up from her screen. He quickly realised his mistake. Him intentionally ditching his flight to spend more time with her was a thought that only occurred in his mind, not hers as well.

He let out a nervous laugh, “True.” He mumbled as he quickly changed topics. “What you doin’?” He asked as he plopped himself down on the couch next to her.

“Answering emails.” She replied.

“About?” He continued, glancing over her shoulder and trying to read what was on her screen.

“Upcoming shows and sending spreadsheets off for yours.” She answered as she dragged and dropped a few excel sheets into an empty email.

“Any bands I’d know?” He glanced at the contact names on the email sidebar. None seemed familiar except the ones that he recognised as being Dirty Hit addresses.

“Doubt it.” She shrugged, “They’re all smaller, local shows.”

  He watched her typing away at the keyboard, his interest eventually waning as his eyes wandered around the room. “Got any weed?” He blurted out.

She rolled her eyes at his question, then supposed it was probably only a matter of time before he asked it. “I do.” His face lit up at her words. “But I’m not sharing it.” And out went that light as quickly as it had come into his eyes. He opened his mouth to begin arguing as to why she should indeed split some with him, but she continued. “You need to catch a plane, anyway! You can’t rock up at the airport stoned.”

“Why not? I’ve done worse.” He laughed loudly, thinking on all of the stories he could tell her that would definitely top arriving at a flight stoned.

“I am not letting you rock up to the airport stoned.” She rephrased.

“Just tell me when I’m getting warmer.” He said as he stood up and started moving around the living room, holding his hands out like he was stumbling through the dark about to run into furniture.

“We are not playing hotter and colder for drugs, Matty.” She tried to sound at least sort of chastising, but the laugh that fell from her lips betrayed her amusement at how silly he looked walking around blindly.

“I’ll pay you back for it.” He added.

“That’s not…” She let out a deep sigh as she ran her hands down her face. “That’s not the point.”

“If you’re hiding it on your person, don’t think that’ll stop me.” He turned to face her with a suggestive grin. As she went to discount that theory, his phone started ringing. Thank god for that.

  He held the device up to his ear, listening intently and making approving noises as he continued to pretend that he was a drug sniffer dog. While he was distracted, she got up and walked into another room. The random representative from the airline spent a good ten minutes apologising for the inconvenience of having to rebook his flight due to ‘unforeseen circumstances’ before actually getting to the point. He decided it was probably best not to press that matter any further given it would come out sooner or later that the circumstances that caused him to miss his flight were pretty easily foreseen. She walked back into the lounge, seeing that he was still on the phone. “Sweet. Flight number BA637 at midnight? That’ll do.” He nodded to himself. After a few more apologies and pleasantries were exchanged, he finally managed to get off the phone and get back to the important matter at hand. “So… My flight is at midnight. That’s plenty of time to get stoned.” He said as he spun around to face her, only to find that she was already right in front of him, holding something out for him to take. He flashed her a confused expression before holding his hand out. She placed a snuff box and papers into it before taking her seat back on the couch. “Oh, you actually…” He seemed genuinely surprised to be presented with the drug. “Uh, thanks.”

  He hadn’t anticipated that she would actually go get it for him. For the most part, he had been joking. Not that it was an unwelcome offer. His stash had run out after the show on Friday, and it was incredibly good for calming his brain down. He took a seat back in the recliner, quickly rolling a joint. Before lighting it up for himself, he supposed he should probably share with the gracious host. He held the joint he had rolled out to her and she shook her head in response without even looking up from her emails. He frowned as he looked down at it, then back up at her. “You’re not gonna have any?” He asked.

“No way.” She said with a short laugh. “I’ve got shit to get done, I can’t be stoned.”

“What! Why didn’t you tell me that before?” He asked loudly.

“You seemed pretty hell bent on getting high.” She shrugged as she looked up on him. He looked like a child who’d just been told that they weren’t actually going to Disney World and were, in fact, going to the dentist instead.

“Not by myself.” He mumbled in disappointment.

“Tough shit.” She chuckled.

He let out a reluctant groan, pausing for a moment before speaking again, “You sure you don’t want any?” He offered one last time.

“Another time, Matty.” She sighed with a small smile.

“I’ll hold you to that.” He nodded as he tucked the joint behind his ear.

  He sat and waited patiently, half paying attention to the TV as she finished up the emails that she had to get done. Eventually, once she had finished the tasks that she was meant to get done with her day, she was considerably more willing to entertain the messy haired boy on her couch. They killed the time eating snacks and getting to know each other a bit better. She felt that she had a pretty decent grasp on the conundrum that was Matthew Healy after a few hours of chatting with him. They were both blunt and honest people, so it was easy to cut to the chase and skip around the idle chit chat that filled the majority of their day to day conversations. And he was finding that the more he spoke with her, the further the connection between them went. What had initially been him enjoying having someone around purely because of how well they reacted to him was fast becoming quite a well-rounded friendship. She was also quickly finding that whenever she got him onto a topic that he truly enjoyed discussing, he was an unstoppable force of enthusiasm and ridiculous vocabulary. A conversation with Matty mostly involved just listening to the torrential waves of thought that were Matty.

  Eventually during their chat, he discovered a few retro video game consoles that she had hidden under her TV. He was all too keen to prove that he’d have more skill than her at any game she could throw at him, and being the competitive person that she was, she wasn’t about to let him think that he was right. As soon as they got engrossed in the games, the time flew by. It wasn’t long before his phone was buzzing to remind him that he had a plane to catch. Whoever was organising his flights had also organised a taxi for him that was currently waiting outside. He flashed her an apologetic look as he paused the game and started grabbing his things.

“Sorry, I’ll have to kick your arse another time.” He said as he quickly scanned the room to make sure he wasn’t leaving anything behind. Would leaving his wallet behind be a decent excuse to miss another flight..? Probably not. He shoved it into his pocket.

“You have lost more games than you’ve won, y’know.” She pointed out with an eyebrow raised as she stood up.

“So far.” He shot back as he pointed at her seriously, before cracking a huge grin. His smile was ridiculously infectious.

  He started heading towards the door, pausing for a moment before grabbing the handle. “Thank you for letting me hang out here all day. Sorry if I was a bit of a burden.” He said with a sheepish smile, scratching at the curls sitting at the back of his neck.

“You’re not a burden.” She replied with a roll of her eyes. “But it’s no problem. Let me know the next time you’re back in this part of the globe.”

“Can do.” He said with a bright grin. “Bye, Y/N/N.”

“Bye, Matty.” She said, going in for a goodbye hug. He leaned forward in a different way than if he was reciprocating the hug, and for a brief moment the thought passed her mind that he might be about to try and kiss her. But he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, smiling to himself as he did so. The blush that was rapidly spreading across her face gave her away before she could even try to cover it up.

“I’ll see you soon.” He said with a wink as he opened the door and walked down to the waiting taxi, throwing a brief wave over his shoulder in her direction. She realised as she stepped back into her house that the joint that she had given him was now sitting above her ear. She laughed to herself, expecting that she probably would be seeing that boy sooner than she thought knowing his antics.

  * * *

  When her phone buzzed loudly on her bedside table, pulling her out of her half-asleep state, she supposed that she shouldn’t have been surprised. Would it really have been a night of knowing Matty Healy without him trying to contact her at some ridiculous hour? She rolled over, grabbed her phone and held it to her face, trying to adjust her eyes to read the bright screen in the darkness.

11:36pm My flight got cancelled again :/

No way. Again? That didn’t seem very likely... The airports here were fairly reliable most of the time, the odd cancellation wasn’t unheard of but two in a row seemed pretty ridiculous. What had he said his flight number was? Maybe it said online what was happening with the plane. She quickly googled the flights heading to London that night, finding his flight number straight away. It was still scheduled on time. Why the hell was he trying to get out of his flight home?

11:39pm No, it didn’t

11:40pm It did. They said the engines are broken

  She sent through the screenshot of the page that she had just looked up.

11:40pm It says here that your flight is still scheduled for midnight

11:40pm Your website must be outdated

She didn’t have the energy at this hour to work out if he was joking or not. But she was pretty damn sure that the website would’ve been correct.

11:41pm Catch your damn plane, Matty

He smiled to himself as he read the message before tucking his phone into his pocket and handing over his boarding pass. The flight attendant gave him a warm smile as they scanned it and handed it back to him. He hadn’t really expected to be able to get away with it two nights in a row, but he felt it was still worth the shot.

 Last Chapter

Next Chapter

[songsofloretto]

Kieran gave me this earlier. I like writing for Kieran. He's a nasty bastard trying to turn his life around which makes him multi-faceted but as a character giving direction he's easy to 'feel'. Kieran never does third person perspective. His stories are always first person and written like a commentary.

Kieran, Nicky, Rory and Matthew

Sainsbury's, May 2021

"Uncle Kieran can I have these water pistols?"

It's been 30 years since I last took a child grocery shopping. It was bad enough in the 1980s with the kids wanting the sweets at the end of the checkout and all that. Fast forward to the 21st century and the problem has absolutely mushroomed, along with the size of supermarkets in general. Before I went to prison supermarkets only sold food. These days they sell everything from sun-dried tomatoes to fecking funeral plans. Nothing is sacred from these corporate giants. There are whole sections devoted to toys so there's no avoiding the inevitable pleas from children presented with their every wildest dream every time you call in for a pint of milk. Our Matthew's grandson is no different. The little lad is only four years old and to him this toy section is like every Christmas morning he's ever dreamed of all rolled in to one.

"Eh?" I say.

Rory lifts a box of four water pistols from the shelf and almost topples over under the weight of them. I grab it quick and steady him before he smacks his head off the corner of a shelf.

"Woah," I say to him, "steady on, our kid."

"I want these water pistols," Rory says emphatically, "there's four altogether. You, me, Uncle Nicky and Grandad can all play with them in the garden."

I look at the box. The pistols are nothing special. I've seen more power in a carrot. But the kid is right. It's a boiling hot day and perhaps an hour in the garden shooting each other up is exactly what this fecked up family needs to bond.

And who can say no to little Rory, who hasn't seen his daddy in over a year. Deaglan has been stuck in New York over this bloody pandemic, unable to get home to his son, missing out on all the drama we have going on here. The kid, innocently caught in the middle of it all, deserves a little joy in his life. I take a pistol out of the box and work my finger over the trigger, pretending to shoot, while Rory laughs and crouches down low.

"Aye you can have them," I tell him, and ruffle his hair with my fingers.

Right on cue the ever uptight Nicky slides up to us, almost falling over himself in his desperation to spoil any fun. He's swaggering about in his police uniform with a stick up his arse as usual. No tie or epaulettes but you can still tell he's an off-duty police officer. The cunt.

"I don't think so," he says rather efficiently as he plucks the box and the pistols out of my hands.

"What the f...Nicky!" I say, and pull the box back from him, "what's wrong with you?"

"I don't think it's appropriate for children to play with guns," Nicky says matter-of-factly.

"Aww!" Rory whines, "please, Uncle Nicky!"

His face creases and I can't bear to see him look sad. I know from experience that arguing with Nicky isn't easy. He's a jumped-up, self-important and arrogant little prick. In fact he's just like me when I was his age. It amuses me somewhat. I know that he'll get wound up like a clock if I challenge his decision - and I'm really trying to make friends with him, honest - but I've got to try and change his mind, for the little lad's sake.

"Well they're only water pistols," I say with a little shrug, "not gonna do much damage with them, eh, Nick auld fella?"

Nicky pulls a straight-laced expression and looks down his nose at me like a seasoned bloodhound would look at a yapping pup. He thinks I'm scum, I realise as we face each other off. He'll always look down on me like this, because in his bright, British eyes I'll always represent the dirty side of Ireland. I feel the vein on my temple flicker. I have to take a deep breath to keep my cool.

"It's not about any potential risk of damage," Nicky breaks the tension between us with a belittling little sniff, "it's about the psychology. Teaching children that guns are good fun and can't hurt anyone is a slippery slip. Before we know it he'll be twelve years old and shooting up his gym class."

"Fuck off Nicky, this is England, not America," I try to laugh off his point but he just keeps staring.

"And I don't think you, of all people, Kieran O'Driscoll, are in any position at all to be encouraging my nephew to take an interest in firearms," Nicky looks down his nose at me again.

I've been trying hard to handle his snooty arrogance for weeks. I really have. But something inside me snaps.

"Why?" I ask, squaring up to him, "because I was in the IRA? Is that it?"

I don't know what I'm doing. I'm 79 years old. Nicky is 45. I haven't got a chance against him in a fight, especially not with all his police training, but it's my pride that pushes me on. I have to stand up for myself, be a man about it. Teach this little arsehole a lesson.

"Yes," Nicky nods his head, "because you dealt firearms for terrorist organisation. And I don't want you playing with any sort of gun, imitation or otherwise, in front of my brother's son."

Deaglan is Nicky's own twin brother. They've never met. They were seperated at birth. Deaglan stayed in Ireland with Matthew, Nicky went to England with Kate. And now he fancies himself as the big Englishman, the creme de la creme of Britishness, superior above each and all other nationalities. And he spent his whole life loathing the Irish for putting his mother in a wheelchair. She was was a British soldier, victim of an IRA bomb, Newry police station, 1975. Sad story.

It was a terrible shock to poor Nicholas Jamie Hawley when he discovered that his father was not, as his mother always told him, a dead British soldier who died for his country in a halo of bullets. His father Matthew is in fact a proud Ulsterman who is very much alive and even did time for murder. Nicky's brain must have exploded inside his skull when it tried to digest this information. When he realised that half of him bled for Ireland it nearly knocked him sick.

But he had to get used to the idea because this pandemic threw us all together under the same roof, forcing us to learn to love and live with each other. And so here we are, factions of a long-estranged family trying to find common ground, and about to start fighting over water pistols in Sainsbury's.

"You'll never forgive me for being ex-IRA, will you?" I ask him.

"Never," Nicky lifts his chin, "once a terrorist, always a terrorist in my book."

"I did my time, Nicholas," I tell him, "27 years in a hell-hole of a prison. Oh Lord I suffered. And I'm deeply sorry for my transgressions as a younger man."

"Sorry will never be enough," Nicky whispers, "what your sort did to my mother..."

I close my eyes. I don't like think of it. And all over some water pistols to make the little lad happy!

The Voice of Reason enters stage left. Here is Matthew O'Driscoll, everyone's favourite peace-keeping fence-sitter. He spent an age parking the car and has only just joined us. He's as Irish as I am but everyone loves him, even Nicky, because...well because he's Matthew. Need I say more?

Matthew is astute. He studies the body language between me and his long-lost son and folds his arms, awaiting explanation.

"What's going on?" he asks.

"The wee bairn wanted a few water pistols to play with," I said, "and PC Gobshite over here has got an issue with it."

Matthew looks at Nicky who blushes a little as if he suddenly feels rather foolish.

"I didn't think it was ok," he says. His mouth is suddenly dry and he swallows, "to promote guns to a child. I'm in Loco Parentis for Rory. Deaglan has trusted me to look after him. I don't want to fuck it up and send the kid back to his dad thinking guns are ok. Because they're not. What would Deaglan think of me?"

He gives Matthew a slow look. Matthew nods his head. He is trying to understand Nicky's perspective. The man is nervous about all this family stuff. He's still reeling from the shock of discovering he has a family he never knew, that the family is Irish, that there is a man out there in the world who shares his face. Appearance and reputation is key right now. Nicky has never been a parent and suddenly, thanks to the pandemic, he's stepping in to care for his twin brother's son. He wants to do a good job. Of course he does.

It's interesting that Nicky never gives Matthew any stick about being Irish. Let's not forget that Matthew did prison time too. In 1994 he shot his own best mate in the head to stop the IRA from kidnapping and torturing him. We've never spoken about the fact it was me who ordered Brophy's kidnapping in the first place. If I'd have got my hands on Donnachadh Brophy all those years I'd have cut his balls off, fried them in Crisp N Dry oil, added little salt and pepper to taste and made the cunt eat them. But not now. I've mellowed out now. I'm not like that any more. I wouldn't hurt a hair on Brophy's head if he were alive today. And I don't deal in guns. Except water pistols because...well they're water pistols for feck's sake.

"You mean you've taken offence to Kieran handling a gun because he's Irish, is it that it?" Matthew asks.

"Not because he's Irish, per se," Nicky says, "but because of...it's because he has previous."

Matthew nods. The simple action brings calm to the situation. Nicky is feeling heard. He relaxes a little.

"I know you still suffer the fear of the IRA," Matthew says to him softly, "I know as a kid they haunted your dreams. You grew up thinking you had to protect your Mammy from them. But it's all in the past, Nicky. Wether we like it or not we're all together now and there are things we have to forgive each other for if we're going to survive this virus. And survive as a family. Because that's all any of us ever longed for, isn't it? It's time to let go, son."

Matthew takes the pistol from Nicky's grip. The police officer tightens but then releases his hold, surrendering control to the father he never knew he had, and letting go of the toy gun. It's very poignant, metaphorical moment. Makes the man in me uncomfortable so I try to inject some humour to make it bearable.

"Fecking hell," I scoff, "who do you think you are Matty eh? A walking example of the Good Friday Agreement?"

Matthew doesn't take his eyes from Nicky's face. A silent agreement is passing between them.

"Shut up, Ki," Matthew says without looking at me, "it's all right, Nicky. We're going to take these pistols home, fill them up with water and have a big old laugh together. Three generations shooting cold water at each other. And it will be safe, it will be ok. Because it's what families do together all the time."

"Ok," Nicky starts scratching at his arms in that way he has when needs to self-soothe with a wash, "we'll have a water fight. Together. But I'll need to get a shower first."

"If it makes you feel better," Matthew nodded.

He understands Nicky's need to be clean better than I do. I've never known a man so obsessed with washing his skin, changing his clothes, marinating in aftershave because unfamiliar smells upset him. As soon as you walk into the house we all share his first question is 'have you washed your hands?' He won't let you touch anything until you wash your own hands at the kitchen sink. Which by the way is a Belfast model. That little detail is lost on Nicky. It brings me a private sort of amusement.

Nicky's scratching intensifies. We'll have to hurry up with the shopping now because he has it in his head that he needs a wash and a preen. If he doesn't get to a shower soon he'll start getting all upset with himself. There's no time to argue now.

Matthew hands the pistol to the four-year-old whose innocence is responsible for bringing us all together. And then we all walk on, four abreast, to find the pint of milk we all came in looking for in the first place.