does not belong in the fridge


for @percyyoulittleshit, my wife, i hope you enjoy this fluffy little drabble

“What are you doing?” Annabeth stops elbow-deep in a brown paper grocery bag, grey eyes going wide as she stares at her boyfriend across the kitchen of their small apartment.

Percy, for his part, continues unpacking. “I’m putting away the groceries, what does it look like I’m doing?”

“What’d you do with the sauce?”

“Put it in the cupboard,” he says dryly, “You know, where it belongs.”

“It belongs in the fridge.”

He stills, hands full of packets of cookies, and blinks at her. “No, sauce belongs in the cupboard.”

“What? No, it’ll go bad faster. You’ve got to keep it chilled and fresh.” Annabeth marches over to rectify the situation.

Percy drops the cookies onto the counter and moves to stop her. “It doesn’t need to be chilled, especially if it’s not even open yet.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says breezily, trying to duck around him.

He plants a hand on her stomach and holds her back. “Ah, I think you’re the one who doesn’t know what they’re talking about,” he replies, clearly offended.

“Percy, come on,” she says patronisingly.

“Annabeth,” he says in the same tone, “I spend way more time in the kitchen than you, I think I know where the sauce goes.”

“Obviously not, or you’d put it in the fridge,” she snaps. “And you do not spend way more time in the kitchen than me! I’ve cooked every night this week!”

“We got take out two nights,” Percy points out.

Annabeth will not be stopped, however, passionately insisting, “I’ve cooked three nights this week!”

“Oh, wow, three nights worth of cooking -”

“And how many nights have you cooked, Seaweed Brain?” She jabs him hard in the chest with her index finger.

He swats her hand away and shrugs. “None, but -”

“None! I rest my case.”

“-But I’ve been working nights this week so it doesn’t count!”

“It does so count! I cook three delicious meals for you and you just ignore them -”

“Would you really call them delicious?” Percy mutters, and immediately regrets it.

Annabeth’s eyes narrow dangerously. “That pie was a masterpiece.”

Figuring that he’s already dead, Percy decides to just go for it. “It was a little dry…”

“It just needed some sauce!” she yells.

“You just need some sauce!” he yells back, reaching behind him to grab the sauce off the shelf.

A mad tug-o-war ensues, in which Annabeth just about climbs up him to try and reach the bottle he’s holding over his head. He unscrews the lid and madly scratches at the silver freshness seal over the top.

“Give that to me!” his girlfriend shouts in his ear

“Oh, you want the sauce?” he taunts, stumbling back and knocking his hip on the counter.

“Percy, I swear to the gods -” With one last violent sweep, Annabeth manages to knock the sauce bottle from his hand.

Right as he gets the seal undone.

Knocked free, the bottle turns upside down and before either of them have a chance to realise what’s happened they’re both covered in sauce.

“Oh my gods!” Annabeth shrieks, finally letting go of Percy to try and wipe the sticky red sauce out of her eyes. It’s splattered over her shoulders, her chest, the entire length of the arm she’d had outstretched.

Percy hasn’t fared any better. He can feel sauce dripping from his head down the nape of his neck, beneath his collar. It’s all over his shoulders and a bit has gotten in his ear.

The kitchen is as much of a mess as they are.

Annabeth stops shaking her arms as Percy cradles her face in his hands and leans in to kiss her, gentle and soft and completely at odds with their mad struggle a few seconds earlier.

“What are you doing?” she asks a little breathlessly when they part.

Percy smiles. “You taste like sauce. Saucy.”

Annabeth beams back at him. “I’m always saucy.”

an intellect & a werewolf ; colloquy

series summary: based on this quote i saw a long time back that goes like “never ever dumb yourself down just for a guy.” basically about embracing being an intellectual. also was listening to ed sheeran and am mellowed down from a good night and felt ✨inspirational

part summary: where they have their first interaction with each other. 

pairing: isaac lahey x reader

warnings: uhhh underage drinking?? idk

a/n: finALLY THE FIRST PART!!! it won’t be a super long series probably will be a ¾/5 part series,really depends on how i plan the next few parts :-) i hope y’all enjoy this!!!

Isaac couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he fell in love with you,you’ve seen each other around school a few times,exchanged a few smiles but never really spoke to each other.

There was this party coming up and Isaac saw it as a perfect chance to actually talk to you,not actually knowing if you were gonna turn up. You weren’t exactly the type to go to parties but he has seen you at one or two of them. Still,he hopes for the best.

Keep reading


Originally posted by bwipsul

pjm x reader. gang!au meets soulmate!au. angst, some fluff. 7.6 k words. so sorry for the inactivity. but i’m back with a semi-long angst for the fluffiest of marshmallow! i swear i was trying to write fluff..

Life just never seem to give Jimin a break.

There’s a legend that his late mother used to read to him and his brothers when they were young, during happier times, times where he can remember his brothers and he joking with each other rather than taking every opportunity to bring down the other.

That somewhere among the 7 billion people that inhabits the earth, one person is destined to bring joy unlike you’ve never felt in your life before, one person has been set to cross your path and change everything you think you know of. A soulmate. They say that life leaves clues to each people so they could find their soulmate, that the clue is a bond that no one can interfere or break except by each other.

But in a life where you have to learn how to operate and shoot a gun at 16, the subject of soulmate becomes a dream: a soft voice that whispers a made up reality to calm him to sleep, to make him believe that there’s the possibility of him living a happier life than this.

Keep reading

This was very quick and mainly inspired by @vixxasks post [Leo as a roommate]. 

I hope you enjoy reading this! 

Leo x Reader (college roommates)


Word count: 2298

“Do you have a secret child hidden somewhere?”

Your friend asked as she stood in front of your fridge staring at the drawings hanged all over it. The childish drawings your roommate calls his “art” looked like they belonged to a 3 years old child rather than a man in his twenties.

“No. These are my roommate’s.”

She turned around and stared at you in confusion.

“How old is your roommate?”

You giggled.

“He’s our age. He’s just talentless.”

“Why does he draw then?”

“Ask him, don’t ask me.”

“Ask me what?”

You both darted your gaze in the direction of the door when you heard Taekwoon’s voice.  He was standing at the door of your shared room staring at you blankly. Your friend cleared her throat before looking at you and saying:

“I have to go.”

She left the room, avoiding Taekwoon’s glare and closed the door behind her. You rolled your eyes at him when he said:

“How could you call me talentless?”

You sat down on your bed as you said:

“That’s the truth.”

“No it’s not!”

You ignored him and then noticed the bag of canned coffee he was holding in his hand. He walked toward the fridge, opened it and placed the coffee inside it.

“More coffee?”

He ignored your remark before grabbing one of the cans and closing the fridge.

“What’s so bad about coffee?”

You shrugged your shoulders and pursed your lips without giving him an answer. He watched you flip through your phone and then walked toward your bed and sat down next to you. He snatched the phone out of your hand and held it above your head.


“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Give me my phone back!”

“Not before you answer me.”

You frowned. Why are his arms so long?

“I told you before. I don’t think coffee is good for you.”

“Why not?”

You snatched your phone back and then said:

“Because… people drink 3 cups a day max. You drink 12!”


“That’s not healthy!”

“Why do you care? You’re not my mother!”

He said as he got off your bed and walked toward his.


You lay down on your bed with your back to him as you said:

“I want to sleep.”

He took his shoes off, put them away and then sat down to his desk. A few minutes later he called your name but you didn’t answer. He looked around and then grabbed his pillow and threw it at you.


You yelled.

“I’m hungry.”

He whined. You sat up in bed and gawked at him.

“I’m not your mother!”

“Aw! Come on! You know that’s not what I meant. I want to go out and eat something but I don’t want to go alone.”

You tilted your head and looked at him in confusion before asking:

“So you want me to go out with you?”


He nodded.

“And then you’ll make me pay for your food like you do every time.”

“No no! It was a one time thing. You know that I don’t usually go out without my wallet.”

“Except when it’s with me.”

He got off his bed, put his jacket on and then said:

“Listen, I’m starving so let’s go eat something and talk about my memory later, okay?”

You looked at him for a few seconds before pulling the comforted off your body.




“You forgot your wallet, didn’t you?”

You asked Taekwoon as you looked at him pretend that he’s looking for it in his pockets. He looked up at you apologetically. You took your wallet out before grabbing the check from him.

“Remind me again, you said you don’t usually go out without your wallet?”

You asked as you took money out of your wallet and handed it to the waiter.

“I didn’t say always.”

You squinted your eyes at him and he stuck his tongue out at you.

“Next time is on me.”

You grabbed your purse and got off your seat.

“There will be no next time.”

He jumped from his seat and followed you as you left the restaurant.

“I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

You stopped in your tracks and turned to look at him as you asked:


He thought for a second and then said:

“I’ll tell you when we’re back to our room.”


This was how you spent the night sleeping in one of Taekwoon’s favorite sweaters. You’ve always wanted to try one on but he never allowed you. So when he suggested it, you said yes. It was big and comfy and it smelled like him, just like you imagined it will. His Versace perfume and the scent of coffee were both fresh and refreshing. Sleeping in his sweater was very comfortable but you never told him. You didn’t want him to believe that you could easily forgive him for making you pay for his meals every now and then.

But you still used that as an excuse to steal his sweaters whenever you wanted. You lost count of the times you felt cold at night, tiptoed your way to his closet and stole one of his sweaters before going back to your bed. Or the times you just missed sleeping with his scent filling your nostrils. You were never going to admit that you had a crush on. This was the only reason you were willing to look at his weird drawings every morning before breakfast. The only reason you made sure you brought your wallet every time he suggested going out to eat late at night. The only reason you didn’t kill him in his sleep when he broke your lamp with his soccer ball. You giggled as you remembered the incident.


You were studying for your final exams while Taekwoon was practicing for his coming soccer match. He refused to leave the room and insisted he practices dribbling in his side of the room. You drew an invisible line and asked him not to cross it or you’ll kick him out of the room and he agreed. But when the ball landed on your desk, dropping your lamp to the floor and shattering it to pieces, he was out of the room within a second. You jumped from your seat, grabbed the ball and ran after him.

“Jung Taekwoon! I will kill you!”

You yelled before throwing the ball and missing his head as he disappeared behind the corner.

You refused to talk to him for a week and you even got rid of his canned coffee as revenge. It amazed you how the fridge was always full of them even though you made sure you emptied it an hour ago. On the 7th day you woke up to find a new lamp on your desk with a note that said “Sorry.” You ended up forgiving him instantly and he promised to never practice inside the room again.


You woke up the following morning to a weird murmur. You turned around in bed and screamed when you found a small kitten resting on your pillow.


He walked into the room and froze in his place when he saw the kitten on your pillow. He ran toward your bed, picked the kitten up and petted it as he whispered:

“Did she wake you up?”

“Is this your cat?”

You yelled. He hushed you as he put the kitten on a bed he prepared earlier and placed it on his desk. He then placed a tiny comforter over the kitten’s body before looking at you.


“Who allowed you to get it in here?”

“This is my room.”

“It’s my room too!”


“You should have asked me!”

He stared at you for a couple of seconds and then asked:

“Can I keep it?”


You felt blood boil in your veins. How could he bring a pet to your shared room without asking you first? And even let it roam the place freely without supervision?

“If it poops on my books I will kill you in your sleep.”

“You can’t. My cats will protect me.”


You gawked at him. You then noticed that the bed on his desk was too big for one kitten. You got off your bed and walked toward his desk so he jumped in front of you, blocking your way.

“How many did you get?”

“Wait. I’ll explain.”


“F… four.”


He was still blocking your way. You heard a faint meow and could see one of the kittens trying to get out of the bed. The kitten locked eyes with you as if asking you to take it out of the bed. Your heart melted when the kitten was kept trying, and failing, to push itself out of the bed. You pushed Taekwoon away before picking the kitten up and staring at it dotingly.

“Do they have names?”

“Not yet.”

He answered with a smile on his face.

“Then I’ll name this one and keep it, is that okay?”

“Of course. What are you going to call it?”

You looked at him and then at the kitten before saying:

“I’ll think of something.”


A week or so later, you woke up to Taekwoon slamming the door shut.

“What’s wrong?”

You asked. His face turned red when he realized that he woke you up.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were asleep.”

“It’s 12 a.m.!”

“I’m so sorry.”

He apologized again. He seemed distressed. Something was wrong with him. You watched him as he took his shoes off, put them away and then sat to his desk with his head between his hands. You pulled the comforter off your body and walked up to him. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you asked:

“What’s wrong?”

He turned around to look at you.

“I… the first show is tomorrow and I can’t find someone to help me rehearse my lines.”

You rolled your eyes at him before saying:

“I thought this was serious.”

“It is! I need to revise my lines but… my co-actress wanted to go home early and I… I’m very nervous about the show.”

You pulled your chair and placed it next to his before saying:

“Where is the script?”

He gawked at you.

“Don’t look at me like that. I can’t see you like that and do nothing.”

“But… why? I mean… you should go back to sleep.”

“I’m not sleepy anymore.”

He opened the drawer, took the script out and handed it to you.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded.

“What page?”

“Start with page 20.”

You flipped the booklet until you got to page 20. He stood up with his back to you, took a few seconds to prepare himself and then turned around and said:

“What are we?”

Your eyes scanned the page for that line but you couldn’t find it. You looked up at him in confusion.

“Are you sure it’s page 20?”

“Answer my question first.”

You swallowed as you stared at him. His expressions were cold and serious. You were taken aback by the sudden change in attitude.

“We’re… roommates.”

“And then what?”

“Then when?”

“After we graduate and go our separate ways.”

“I… don’t know. Why are you asking me this now?”

He took a deep breath and then said:

“I don’t want us to go our separate ways. I don’t want us to be just roommates.”

He paused for a second when he noticed the bewilderment on your face.

“I like you. I bother you on a daily basis because I like you, a lot. And I love our relationship so much! I love how you run after me down the hall with a baseball bat or plan my murder at night and then look after me when I fall sick. But I don’t want us to remain as roommates.”

He paused again, allowing you to comprehend his sudden confession. Your crush on him was increasing by time and you could feel attracted to him the more you spent time fixing things he broke around the room. It was a love hate relationship but you never really hated him, and you were never truly bothered by his imprudent actions since you always managed to throw everything behind your back and forgive him.

You were surprised how his confession made you realize that he was very likable despite his recklessness. You recalled all the times he helped you with your homework, cleaned the room when you had finals, and made you something to eat when you had a deadline to meet.

He was staring at you cautiously, wanting to know your reaction to his confession. Your cheeks were turning a light shade of pink as you asked:

“What do you want then?”

Your eyes widened in surprise when he knelt down on one knee, took your hand in his and stared at you lovingly as he said:

“Would you be my girlfriend?”


You said faintly. Your hands were shaking in his and your heart was pounding in your chest.

“I can’t promise that I’ll ever stop bothering you because… it’s the only thing I’m good at.”

You giggled and he smiled at you.

“Then don’t stop.”

You said shyly and averted your eyes away from him.

“Is that a yes?”

You looked at him and could see his eyes sparkling in anticipation. You gave him a tiny nod. He stood up and pulled you in his arms and then said:

“Then do you want to go out with me? On a date?”

You pulled out and looked at him with a smile on your face.

“Only if you bring your wallet.”

He chuckled and pulled you in his arms again as he said:

“This time I will.”

anonymous asked:

Does ketchup belong in the fridge?

texas anon who checks my blog like every day, this is the second time youve asked me this and … do you … need something? besides condiments?

current mood: wanting to overshare my ~feelings~ with literally fucking anyone but not wanting to bother my friends, have slept a total of 6 hours over 2 days so my body is like PLEASE SLEEP but my brain is like or consider this: no, getting extremely irritated with literally everything (including the sound of my own breathing), forgetting what i was doing as i was doing it (the mayonnaise does not belong in the pantry the fridge was open for a reason WHAT ARE YOU DOING)

It’s A Hobby Of Mine To Prove You Wrong (ft. Matt Murdock/Daredevil)

“Don’t fight me on this Y/N,” you felt like you could scream. Frustration boiling up inside of you as Matt’s unfocused stare remained on the cabinet behind you. You hated yourself every time you thought it but you could help to imagine what it would be like if you could just talk to him instead of constantly feeling like you were talking at him. 

“I will always fight you Matty. You mean to much for me to be okay with you coming home every night covered in battle scars,” the scream seemed to be forming in your chest, inflating like a ballon as Matt rolled his eyes, leaning away from you onto the kitchen counter behind him. 

“I have to do this Y/N. I have to and you know that,” Matt sighed, the frustration seemed to be passing between the two of you, your made his stronger, and his bounced back on you which only fueled the fire in your chest that much more. 

“No. It’s a hobby of mine to prove you wrong,” you shot back, trying to maybe lighten the mood, but after a moment it was obvious that there was no chance of that from the way Matt’s eyebrows scrunched together to when he raised his hands to rub at his face angrily. 

“Why Y/N? Why can’t you just deal with it like everyone else does!” you barely held back a flinch. Men yelling had always been one of those things for you, the thing that took you completely off guard, made you want to curl up into a ball and never come unraveled. Matt sensed you fear and uneasiness, a part of him wanted to slap himself for evoking such a reaction from you, the other wanted to make you feel worse.  

“I love you Matt! God, I love you so much and seeing you like this, it kills me every time!” you cried, finding it impossible to step closer to Matt despite wanting so badly to just stop fighting, to take Matt’s hand into your own, go the couch and laugh with each other over the terrible Chinese take-out. Forget about everything that happened when Matt was gone and you had to stay in the apartment alone and cold until he reappeared. 

“It shouldn’t,” the coldness of his tone took you take to those nights. Usually Matt was like a human furnace, leaving the air empty like a winter chill when he left. As soon as he came back you could tell, from the way it felt like the seasons were changing at a rapid pace. Winter to spring and as he came closer, spring to summer. Now, despite being within arms reach, you felt the winter chill take over the air, sucking all of the warmth and joy from the room. 

“Yes. It should. Would you not feel something, anything, if I was to come back to you every day covered in bruises and blood?” you asked, trying to come up with some argument that could out do the lawyer. That was one of the only disadvantages to being with Matt. He was stubborn as an ox yet he was so brilliant when it came to arguments, always having some valid statement that would blow the other person out of the water. 

“Of course but-,” Matt started, sighing lamely as he felt exhaustion hit him again, like a kick in the stomach. It was too late to be fighting with you, too soon to the time he would have to leave and he wanted to have some energy for fighting more important battles. 

“No buts Matty. You are going to sit down and we are going to have an adult discussion about this where you don’t walk off, you don’t get angry over petty things and we talk through this!” You insisted, trying now to find someway for this not to end badly. Avoid the almost inevitable week of silence that Matt would always win, you dying to hear his voice, feel his hands on you before he got over his anger. 

“You can’t just therapy your way out of every problem!” Matt yelled, noticing that you weren’t able to hold bak the flinch this time. Sending you cowering against the fridge beside you as Matt stood straight up, starting to reach a hand out before he decided against it, dropping the hand to his side. 

“Well at least I’m trying to do something!”

Gif Credit: not sure. Does not belong to this blog, neither admins created it. If you know who created it pleases message us and we will give credit where it is rightfully deserved. 

anonymous asked:

so canon nursey is squeamish about blood. what if vampire nursey was, too?

LMAO as soon as those tweets went up @midnitedancer was texting me about this. Vampire Nursey is a disaster. Also, can I ever make anything not DexNursey? Of course I can. Today is not that day though.

For the Monster Haus AU featuring Vampire Nursey and Dullahan Dex.

Warning: This is humor but there are a lot of mentions of blood, including it being consumed kind of graphically so you know. Heads up.

“Every single day, every day, I’m like ‘there is nothing more stupid that Nursey could do today to surprise me. There’s no way.”

Nursey groaned into his hands, sprawled out on his back on the beaten up old futon they kept in the basement. “Shut up.”

“And every day you prove me wrong. It is actually incredible.”

“Leave me alone,” Nursey moaned. He knew there was no chance of that happening, but it was worth a shot. He lowered one hand gingerly, blinking a few times as the insulation and wooden beams that made up the ceiling came into focus. The world was still spinning a little, tilting to the side and making it hard to focus for too long, but it was better than it had been.

Nursey let out a shuddering breath. He was okay, he was fine, he was-

Going to be sick.

His stomach rolled as he heard Dex curse, that noise like the crackle of a fire not quite drowning out the sound of his vigorous scrubbing. Nursey couldn’t even see Dex or the mess. He could only hear the sounds of his cleaning, but the image was waiting for him, etched onto his eyelids every time he blinked.

It had been such a good day really. He had passed his literature exam, and was pretty hype for the next assignment. He had just thought he would pop down to the basement for a quick snack. Bitty had given him his own mini fridge down there, hidden away in a closet on the other side of the basement from the beer fridge and wrapped in caution tape, but Nursey appreciated the gesture anyway. His own private fridge for his blood supply.

He had no idea how one bag had burst.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

how is it misogynistic to kill off a female character to further another female characters storyline? especially when you look at the eventual role laurel was gonna take? sara was (in the writers eyes not mine i wanted sara to stay forever) a stepping stone for laurel's evolution... i mean it sucks but it was always gonna happen

Yeah, we all knew it would happen eventually, but doesn’t mean it wasn’t misogynistic.

Let’s talk about tropes for a bit.
If you don’t know what a trope is, it’s a creative device or convention used by content creators in their works (consciously or not).

One trope that is overused is the ‘Stuffed In The Fridge’ one.
Originally titled ‘Women in Refregirators’, it was codified by the Green Lantern comics in which a villain named Major Force killed and cut into bits the girlfriend of GL before stuffing her in the fridge (but you got that, didn’t you?) for him to find. Her death was used as a creative device by the writers to further the plot.
Here, TVTropes gives an applicable definition of what ‘fridging’ means, and that should help you understand the point I’m making:

The term [‘fridging’] came to be used more broadly, over time, to refer to any character who is targeted by an antagonist who has them killed off, abused, raped, incapacitated, de-powered, or brainwashed for the sole purpose of affecting another character, motivating them to take action.

This is exactly what’s happening here. Sara’s death (if real) is just a plot device used by the writers to speed up Laurel’s Black Canary arc.
Meaning, it would have been a lot slower were Sara still alive, because you apparently cannot have two superheroines in the same show.

Besides, to reduce Sara as a ‘stepping stone’ in Laurel’s arc is in itself, hugely offensing. (I’m not saying that’s what you think, just what you wrote about the writer’s POV of the situation). Reducing Sara to a mere step, negates in a way everything that she has said, done or represented in the previous season. It’s saying that she didn’t matter, because she was always going to die anyway. Which is fundamentaly wrong.
Sara was an insanely important character because of what she brought to others (her impact on Oliver, Laurel, Felicity to name a few), but also as a person. Indeed, Sara was a heroine that was bisexual (do you know how rare that is?!) and who defended women against rapists and the like, and so much more. To undermine all of that just for the sake of having a character stick to comic canon is ludicrous.
Quick note: I was actually really looking forward to seeing Laurel on her path to becoming the Black Canary and I don’t actually hate her (quite the contrary). I’m also not saying either this is what the writers think. I’m just starting off what you wrote.

Besides, it’s not the first time that the writers fridged someone (Shado and Tommy are good examples - because yes, the general term doesn’t solely apply to women, only WiR does). It’s interesting to note that Sara’s death (again, if true) also belongs to the ’Death By Origin Story’ trope, both of which are heavily present in comic books. (A famous example of DBOS is Uncle Ben’s in Spider-man, for instance.) Only, if Shado was a DBOS (for Slade and arguably for Oliver), Tommy was not.Tommy’s death forced Oliver to ‘become a better hero’, and in that sense, it is a prime example of the ‘I Let Gwen Stacy Die’ trope (ILGSD codified, obviously, by the Spider-man comics, represents the inabilty of the hero to save a loved one, resulting in angst and manpain. More or less.).
That’s a lot of deaths to carve a path towards heroism, don’t you think?

If Sara had died, say, in another context entirely, that wouldn’t jumpstart Laurel’s Black Canary arc, it wouldn’t have been an issue (edit: not as problematic, but really depending on the death itself). But to see the life of an heroine (and subsequent death) instrumentalized to serve the purpose of making another woman an heroine as well? That’s terrible, and terribly misogynistic. Just ask yourself: why did Sara have to die? Answer: she didn’t. We could have had two Canaries! We could have Sara training Laurel to look over Starling City while she was in Nanda Parbat! Sara dying wasn’t the only ‘solution’, it was the easiest and most obvious one.

So yeah. I’m really angry they decided to go down that route, even though I somehow knew they would.

Sparks Flew - Chapter Two

AUTHOR: freudensteins-monster
GENRE: Humour, Drama, Angst…
FIC SUMMARY: Loki is magically shackled to his brother whilst he serves out his community service sentence as an unofficial Avenger. He doesn’t make it easy for Thor, or Jane, who turn to Darcy to take over as his babysitter warden.
WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES/FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: I’ve had a really great response to the first chapter - thank you so much! If you continue to like it please continue to bug me for updates - I need some prodding to get it finished. xoxox

Previous Chapter

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before the war, bucky was a goddamn cocktease. after returning from work and shoveling down whatever meager food remains in their fridge, he changes into his tightest clothes and shows off for steve. he reaches up to high shelves just to make his shirt ride up, bends over unnecessarily to draw attention to his ass. and bucky is shameless. he does not blush, though steve does.  

steve sits on the couch with fists clenched, hard in his slacks and dizzy with lust just from the flashes of bucky’s skin, the curve of bucky’s ass. steve feels like he belongs in the fucking victorian era.

after everything, after bucky finally, finally returns from the war, it is different. he is muted, subdued. bucky does not feel like a person. he is not a body, he is a weapon. bucky wears clothes that are ill-fitting, baggy and loose. he keeps as much clothing on as possible during their lovemaking.

steve has never seen this bucky with his shirt off, not even when he’s giving bucky massages to try and ease the constant ache in bucky’s muscles (from having to lug the metal arm around all day). steve has not seen bucky’s metal arm since the day on the helicarrier because bucky keeps it hidden under a synthetic skin

bucky does not understand why steve wants to see him, all of him. but when he is finally comfortable enough he lets steve see, because he knows that it will make him happy. he takes off all of his clothes and he removes the layer of synthetic skin, and steve drinks it all in

bucky tenses up so hard that it hurts, but when steve touches him he slowly relaxes. he had forgotten that it could feel like this. he feels nothing when steve touches the join where scarred skin meets metal, but when steve runs his fingers down the metal platings of his shoulder and arm it tingles pleasantly. bucky shivers when steve’s knuckles brush the knob of his wrist, when steve tenderly grasps bucky’s hand in his own. 

and then steve follows the same path with his mouth, presses loving, reverent kisses to cool metal, and bucky cannot bear it. he feels his eyes begin to water, so he closes them tightly. something that steve loves cannot be terrible, bucky knows this in his bones.

steve kisses each of bucky’s metal fingers, and presses a final kiss to the center of his palm. bucky did not blush when he used to show off his body for steve. he blushes now