#meant to write like 3 sentences still can’t do that apparently

[bright-eyed]

.

I hate how any person who makes the case that people should try reading more complex or deep poetry or fiction always gets strangers popping out of the woodwork to call them snobs or say that they should be happy people are reading poetry and fiction at all even if it’s the more “accessible” kind built for entertainment. It’s very depressing to me how we’re still unable to talk about art without immediately getting shut down by accusations of snobbery. Are we still not at a level of depth as a society that we are able to talk about how some art is different from other art and they serve different functions and accomplish different goals? Hello?

Also it’s like… people who are making this case are sometimes writers or poets themselves who have genuine concerns about having to cater their work to a mass audience and simplify their art (their translation of their thoughts, beliefs, and most intimate experiences of the world) to cater to whatever consumer trends, which has always been something that artists of all kinds have hated and chafed against because it hurts and feels like the world is forcing them to conform in perhaps the one place where they have been able to express themselves freely.

And if it’s not a writer who’s making this case, it’s an enthusiast or a reader or someone who makes writing a big part of their lives and is genuinely really into it and knowledgeable about it. These people have a harder case to make because they can’t say “well I’m a writer and the skill and complexity I put into my work should be appreciated for what it is and I think it’s harmful to expect my work to entertain when it’s firstly an expression of self; I shouldn’t be forced to conform/etc.” As a reader, you’re arguing with other “readers” about why they should read differently, which is basically asking for a fight. People who identify as readers do notttt like to be told that what they read isn’t “enough” which makes sense because people generally get defensive when their identities get called into question like that. There’s also the problem of: as a reader you can’t argue on the merits of different ways of writing so much as the merits of different ways of experiencing writing, which is more obviously subjective, and a lot of the time people who don’t read “deep” stuff don’t even know what you’re talking about because they’ve never experienced it. Which is another reason to make the case… like it’s sad to see that there are people who don’t know what you’re talking about when you’re trying to relate a transcendent or revolutionary experience you had reading a novel or a poem, and not only that but scoff at the idea of reading that thing because it’s too “cerebral” or “boring” (ouch)

It’s impossible to explain to anyone really how sometimes the words are built different, and they can arrange themselves in such a way so as to tear you apart and make you whole again, or shine a light into a dark corner of your past, or touch your soul in a place your soul has never been touched, etc. I think it’s just something you have to experience, but I think once you do you can see why someone would argue that not all reading is created equal and that it’s sad that there are people who identify as readers who have never experienced the feeling that comes with certain types of reading, who might have blocked themselves out of it because they read the same way they watch netflix or play app games — for the dopamine. And it’s not even to say that reading for fun or pleasure is always bad, because it’s nice to read many different types of things, but the playing field is not even; “snobs” are reading Montaigne and the occasional ya fantasy when they get the itch, and “readers” are telling you Montaigne is a boring old windbag and you think you’re better for reading him but you’re not. And obv the hypocrisy is never addressed…

And we don’t always do this with some other types of art. We do it with music, but we don’t do it with traditional art so much. Maybe because people are less likely to identify as “art appreciators” and looking at art often requires going to a museum and standing silently in front of a painting, or reading art histories that some people consider pretty boring, which may prevent certain types of people from even caring about the argument, but you’re allowed to talk about how cartoons are different from, like, Caravaggio without immediately being hit with accusations of snobbery. Maybe this is also because the mechanisms for making art more entertaining have changed the face of it so much that it’s more evident (cartoons just look different than paintings). And because of that you can recognize that cartoon artists and animators are good at what they do in their own right but that what they embarked on is essentially a different project, an art that is expressed and experienced differently fundamentally. But I guess because all books look the same, as in are all just pages filled with words, the mechanisms are way less obvious. But they are there! Just like they are with music, even if untrained ears probably can’t tell the difference and many of us are just listening to whatever song makes us feel good in the moment, not looking to be transformed. Words are like musical notes except there’s like millions of them and they’re all a different sound and shape and color and texture, and the orchestra they create is both resonant and impossible to hear.

Anyway, what I meant to say is that we should be able to talk about books as part of a larger consumerist framework, and it shouldn’t be considered snobbery to ask for art to be above consumer trends. It also shouldn’t be too much to ask that people participate deeply in the art they claim to love, and to not claim to love it if they won’t appreciate the full range of its power. Also words can be very beautiful thanks for coming to my ted talk i have to go to work now

#meant to write like 3 sentences still can’t do that apparently #kennapost

[acknowledgetheabsurd]

[3 p.m.]

You did not write to me yesterday.  And this day, so beautiful outside, is poisoned for me. I needed your letter today. Or rather its absence makes me see how much I need it every day. This paper, these words always repeated, what an isolation, isn't it? But I wish you wouldn't go away. Just now, sad, a little frustrated, I tried to imagine a future without you. I beg you, my darling love, whatever happens, never leave me. Do whatever you want, I'll put up with everything from you but be mine.

What I say to you is very serious and long meditated: the link which binds me to you is from now on that of life itself. If it is cut, it is agony and madness. I underline this to you and I write to you very coldly, with the certainty of those who have experienced what they say. Do this for me, will you? Put this letter aside and if one day you are tempted to reject me, read it again. It will tell you the truth that I discovered with fear one day: that, in spite of what I thought I was and in spite of all that I am apparently fulfilled with, I am nothing without you - only a desperate and now barren selfishness.

You are life and what binds me to it. I owe you a new being in me, or rather the one I really was and which had never been born. That is why you belong to me absolutely and forever, as a mother belongs to the one she has created. I am not crazy in telling you this. It is I, the one you know, the clear one, the lucid one, who is speaking to you. The blood we exchanged one day while laughing meant exactly that: indestructible union. And one of the meanings of the indestructible union is that if one moves away, the other enters into harmony.

What binds us are not the bonds of dreams or conventions, they are the bonds of blood, of the creation of one by the other, and of the flesh. They are bonds that are never denied because they are found only once in a lifetime. They are bonds that we do not imagine when we have not known them. But if we finally found them, we know, as I know, that until that moment we had not known anything or lived. It is known that we have just found one of the oldest secrets of life and that it is worth the suffering of being born and growing up. If you don't feel this as I do with the same inevitable force, the same precision and clarity, then I am alone to die. If you feel it, all is saved, and we belong together.

Forgive me for this letter. The absence of yours made me look at the future and I tell you only what I saw there. When I return to Paris, it is this union that we will consecrate. I have a thirst, a terrible thirst for happiness. Just say that you think like me, that you are mine forever as I am yours, that is to say unconditionally, and then we will live far from words, scruples and struggles, and days of happiness await. I love you, I am yours. Don't think I'm crazy. It is the bottom of my long compressed heart that bursts. I have your blood in me, your taste on my lips, your passion to live in my heart. Courage again. And soon we will be happy with our happiness. I kiss you with all my heart. But write, write, I beg you. Do you feel, do you feel how much I love you?

[6 p.m.]

I wrote you this letter just now, which I am sending you after some thought, because it says exactly what I think and feel. But at least don't worry. A movement pushed me to speak to you like this because this day without a letter had literally knocked me out. By reaction, the bottom, the blood of the heart came out. Rereading what follows, cold, I can't find a word to deny, and, finally, I am happy that you didn't write to me and that I found this opportunity to tell you the limitless love I have for you. Panic is good. See you tomorrow, Maria dear. The wind is still blowing on this deserted day and I am waiting for those months when we will be happy, when we will finally enjoy ourselves and this wonderful love. But answer me with a sentence at least, tell me that we are similar and confused. I send you all my love and my desire. I kiss your dear mouth, my mouth...

Albert Camus to Maria Casarès, Correspondance, February 10, 1950 [#183]

#albert camus #camus #absurd #absurdism #maria casares #correspondance #love letters #love #beautiful #isolation #madness #truth #fear #forever #lucid #union #flesh #creation #suffering #future #happiness #happy #heart #passion #desire #mouth

[harfanfare]

I saw this post and I was wondering if you write Malleus' too, is okay for you to make that?

How to win a heart of Malleus Draconia?

a/n: I started posting my writings here because I want to improve my English — so I technically wouldn't make this request. But! Someone on Wattpad (where I take requests) asked for the same thing, so I rolled up my sleeves and wrote this guide today in both languages. Enjoy~

1. Don't be afraid of him.

It is said that the first impression is the most important.

So when you first saw this guy walking through the corridor of Diasomnia, it was hard for you to get rid of that view from your head.

Illuminated both by the green magic flames set in the lobby, as well as by the moon, which eventually managed to break through the dark clouds and with a bright glow appear in the windows of the dormitory, he seemed... lonely and beautiful.

You shuddered as you took a step down the hallway and the dark-haired man turned to you. He measured you with his emerald eyes. And then you recognized him; all the conversations about the mysterious and fearsome Malleus Draconia flew through your head.

Everything told you to rush towards the hallway and run as far as possible, but a piece of you found it inappropriate. Or rather, no one would want to chase everyone away from themself... right?

When you realized you were looking at him for a while, you took a deep breath and nod slightly.

"Good evening, Draconia-san," you said quickly. After a while you added, "The moon is beautiful today, don't you think?”

 2. Smile a lot.

Today was a really wonderful day: the test was postponed, your favorite dish was given in the canteen, and for some reason, the last two lessons were canceled – your class had to make just a quick note about a topic and it took less than fifteen minutes.

"Something happened?" Malleus asked, seeing how almost in the jumps you walk past him. When you looked at him, he added, "You smile a lot.”

"I can stop smiling if you want," you made a sad face, but after a while, the corners of your mouth began to tremble uncontrollably and twisted up again. "Oops, I can’t. Today... it was such a good day... that I think I'm slowly using my life's happiness.”

"I didn't say that smiling is bad," he said. "You look so much better when you smile.”

"Oh," you sighed with apparent surprise. "Is it a compliment?"

"It’s rather a fact..?"

 3. From time to time visit him during club activities.

"Is this a class of the ‘Gargoyle research society club’?” with a deaf knock you opened the door. Malleus turned to you, making a break from browsing through the materials gathered in the library about the history of each of the gargoyles on the school grounds. And there were a lot of them.

"Yes," he replied briefly, getting up. "Do you need something, [Name]?"

"Not at all, my club don’t have a meeting today," you said, closing the door behind you.

You looked around: the room was as clean as ever, except for one desk, where were laid several huge volumes about statues in NRC.

“Are you here alone?” You said before you thought. You lowered your eyes to see Malleus nodding unconcerned slightly. You blinked several times trying to think of what else you could say. "This room... could be a secret base," that was the first thing that came to your mind. Malleus turned his head to one side, uncertain of your response.

“A secret base..? Why?”

"I have no idea," you admitted quickly. "But the very existence of a mysterious point is interesting, isn't it? Doing normal things, such as watching movies or just talking, seems more interesting in places like this,” After a moment of silence, you sighed. "You know what, this idea with the base is stupid”

"We can try," he replied with serious tone. You raised your eyes to see how he looked around the room. "But you'll just have to explain this idea to me in more detail. We can also tell Lilia, Silver and Sebek about it...” he smiled as if seeing your five together in his thoughts was a pleasure. "It will be surely... fun.”

 4. Get yourself a Tamagotchi.

"Look!" you spin a new key chain on your finger. You finally stopped and showed it to Malleus. "Now they are matching!”

A small electronic toy, in a dark green screen that, when it flashed, showed a virtual, pixelated animal. You were impressed with how good quality it was made, especially since you only gave the Shroud brothers a sketch of a toy that Malleus owned.

Your keychain was exactly the same, just a different color and with another pet.

Malleus pulled out his own device and put it on the table. He pressed one of the buttons and a small pet appeared on the keychain – a dragon.

"They can now be friends," you brought your toy closer to so-called Gao-Gao Dragon-kun.

"Do you think so?" He asked in a very surprised tone, but it sounded as if in a moment he were about to burst out with an inexplicably joyful and surprised laugh.

"Of course. Everyone needs a decent friend, no?”

 5. Gain the trust of Lilia, Silver and Sebek.

Lilia, one of Malleus' closest people. It is much more likely that you will meet him before Malleus. He will be very proud when he learns that Malleus has found a friend. If you become a taster of Lilia, in terms of his pastries, he will 100% like you, and at 20% you will leave the kitchen alive and well.

Silver, who has mastered the art of sleeping in any conditions. It's easy to get him into your plans, although with the craziest ones he will hesitate. Rather well-disposed towards everyone, he can cover for you when you are not in class— but he usually inadvertently falls asleep and both of you often have penal assignments after school.

Sebek, faithful to Malleus, if he doesn't like you, you won't have too many opportunities to stay by Malleus's side without a thunderous glances at you. He will recognize you if you will listen carefully to his monologues about his master and as a sign of your friendship, he will teach you by heart of all the titles and achievements of Malleus so far.

With this trio by your side, you can get a lot further than you might have imagined...

 6. Be a master in hide and seek.

You’d give your right arm that your breath was too loud.

You pressed your hands to your mouth as you crouched in the corner of the room.

From whose voices you already heard, you knew that Lilia had already found Sebek. This meant that you or Silver would still be helping cook dinner since Malleus didn’t come at the start of the game.

This may seem silly, but the ability to play classic games was one of the elements of the art of survival in Diasomnia.

It was thanks to games like ‘stone-paper-scissors’, hide and seek or tag that household chores fell on the shoulders of the losers. Lilia loved the idea, and there was always a proud smile on his lips when he saw his beloved children play together.

You heard the steps behind you and shivered.

Very slowly you turned around and looked up to see Malleus standing over you and wondering what you were doing, crouching in the darkest corner of the room.

Puns were also included in the survival pack.

Fearing that Lilia would hear your whisper, you put your finger on your mouth, asking him not to say a word. You put a begging eye into it – all but not cooking with Lilia. Not again.

Malleus nodded, recognizing the gravity of the situation, although he smiled.

Really, no one would want Malleus to be an enemy.

Or at least in such a situation.

 7. Do not hesitate to ask him for help with learning.

"In theory, you should focus on the space around you," Malleus pulled a wand in front of him. It flashed, and almost at the same time, a thin but incredibly strong protective barrier was created around him. “Weaker spells can be reflected. In turn, the stronger ones are better to block”

You nodded understandingly.

Defensive magic was not something easy to understand. Most depended on the person against whom the counter spell was being prepared. And there are countless people who walk on this Earth and want to start fights.

"Unique spells block or avoid physically," he continued. You nodded at every subsequent sentence, slowly feeling like all the lessons are eventually gaining transparency. “Using unique magic against unique magic, the stronger will win, both will lead to explosions or completely reduce.

He looked at you when you wrote down the last sentence in your notebook.

"I sincerely hope that you will only need this information in class," he said with a sigh. "If you need help, call me. I will come. I promise.”

 8. Sometimes be persuaded to wear extravagant clothes.

"Do you really think it suits me?" you turned around, looking at yourself from every possible angle in the mirror.

You were going to the theater in a few classes to see some era-related play that you've been discussing now in history lessons. Everyone, respecting the reputation, actions and achievements of theatre, dressed in their best clothes.

Malleus stood next to you.

He was already wearing a black and white outfit with green accessories. They all worked so well together and fitted him like a glove that you were sure that the whole outfit was made especially for him.

"Yes," he replied. "Everything you put on today suited you very well.”

Once again, with critical eyesight, you looked at the outfit, face and hair, before you quickly turned off the lights in the room and closed the door behind you.

Then you smiled at Malleus.

"We can go now," you said. You made your way through the portal to the main NRC building. "And... thank you for your help.

"My pleasure," he said. Under no circumstances was it just a polite formula. He really loved looking at you.

 9. Invite him to your birthday/party.

"Another break from school soon, huh?" — you muttered, leaning against the railing.

You took a deep breath and let the fresh, pleasant air refresh you.

"Are you going to home, [Name]?" Malleus asked. Green lights were still flying around him, so you guessed he’d just appeared here.

"I haven't decided yet," you sighed. "It would be nice to go home, but the break won't be very long... Ah, that's right!” you straightened up and turned to him. "How about spending another break together? As soon as I can, I will contact my family... although I cannot promise anything.”

Though he did not show it, Malleus' heart beat a little faster.

Spend free time? With someone? With someone he likes?

"Of course," he sounded less calm than he thought. He wasn’t often invited anywhere, even for the things he should have been on, so there was a lot of excitement growing in his body. "I don't see anything against it.”

 10. From "The Great Malleus Draconia-sama" to "Love".

"Ah, The Great Malleus-sama!" you sighed theatrically, taking from him a box of chocolates with a joyful smile. You could promise that because of this dark-haired boy here, you slowly become pampered. "Thank you for your generosity!”

Malleus frowned.

"The Great Malleus-sama"..?” he pondered, putting his fingers to his chin. "Did Sebek told you again to call me with this title?"

"No," you laughed softly at his reaction. "I did it out of curiosity. Maybe I could call you some cute nickname, hmm?" you smiled mischievously.

"For example?"

"By adding ‘-chan’ to your name?” you turned on your phone and typed something related to the nicknames. You started reading suggestions and struggled to hold back from laughing. ” ’Sunshine’, ‘star’, ‘flower’, ‘sweetheart’, ‘love’...

"I like the last one," he said, and the invisible force stung you to the ground.

"Would you like me to call you like that? Out of curiosity or out of love?" You laughed, but your cheeks were all red with blushes.

He smiled sincerely at your reaction.

"Hmm, I wonder..?"

#i wonder too #malleus draconia #twst malleus draconia #twst malleus #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst malleus x reader #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #diasomnia x reader #twst malleus draconia x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #anonymous

[drawlfoy]

detention, retention, and draco malfoy being a little shit

masterlist request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: no not really

summary: golden trio friend y/n y/l/n tries to extract information out of draco malfoy after being placed in detention together.

warnings: swearing, panic attack kinda stuff, just the dark war things that would come w having the task that draco does

a/n: ayo so i started this as a fic i was originally planning on writing in a week. i discontinued it bc i didn’t think anyone was that interested, but i’ve written for it on and off. it’s about 16k words right now standing, but i’m reposting this as a 2 part series. here are the first ~12k words....enjoy :) IMPORTANT: if you’re like “hey i started reading this in october why tf are you reposting the first two parts” just keep reading ok lmao i promise there’s more there’s about through part 6 in here hehe. i just wanted new readers to be able to pick up on it without being turned off by the fact that it was part 3. this will b e 2 parts and at least 20k words

word count: 11.6k

taglist: @gruffle1 @missmultifandommess @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell

happy reading y’all

For legal purposes, the york pudding she lobbed at Pansy Parkinson’s head on Monday evening was simply meant to be a joke. She didn’t know that her aim was bad enough that it was going to get in Snape’s hair instead--honestly, it wasn’t even supposed to get past the Ravenclaw table, much less veer to the left to make a beeline for the professors--but no matter how much she tried to explain this to McGonagall, her sentence remained the same: detention every Friday. For two months.

Her life was ending for sure.

“I honestly don’t know what you were expecting,” Hermione told her as she gently wiped off the nib of her quill later that night in the common room. “Even if you had hit your mark, that’s still technically assault.”

“Did you even hear what she said to me? She told me that I looked like the type of kid that bit people in primary school,” complained Y/N. “I didn’t even think she knew what primary school was!”

Hermione snorted. “How long ago?”

“Two days. I’ve been waiting until there was something throwable on the dinner table.”

“How very analytic of you.”

“I’m going to hit you.”

“And you wonder why you’ve got detention.” Hermione tsk-ed at her, her face stone serious but her tone light hearted. “Maybe take this as an opportunity to, I don’t know, do your homework for once? So you won’t have to have a breakdown over the next Potion’s essay and beg me to write it for you?”

“I’m going to go to sleep and think terribly mean thoughts about you.”

“Have fun.”

~ 

Detention.

Something that Y/N wasn’t completely unfamiliar with--she’d done her time organizing Snape’s cabinets, just like every other Gryffindor--but it was different when it came to McGonagall. An impressive old lady, she thought that McGonagall saw something in her. She was always the first to chuckle at Y/N’s jokes and hesitated to reprimand her stupid behavior. And she never gave Y/N detention.

Until now, she supposed. 6th year was changing a lot of things--even their Potions professor--so McGonagall turning a new stone shouldn’t have been anything shocking.

At least, not as shocking as the first thing Y/N saw as she walked into her house head’s office.

“Malfoy?” she spat.

The platinum blonde didn’t even bother to look up from his desk.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall chided. “I think we would all prefer if you restrained yourself from getting into any more physical altercations with Slytherins.”

She huffed, plopping down in the chair furthest away from that foul git and reaching for her satchel.

“I’ll be back in two hours,” said the elderly professor. “If I hear anything, and I mean anything, other than the sound of studying, consider your sentence doubled.”

With a swish of her robes, McGonagall was gone, leaving her with Malfoy. 

“So what’d you do to get in here, huh? Did the administration finally get a hold of that video of you licking Voldemort’s toes?”

“What the fuck does that mean?!” he snapped, whipping around to glare at her.

“‘s just a joke,” said Y/N. “Like--how everyone says your family houses him and everything--but whatever. I can tell it’s a sore spot.”

His gaze, never withering in intensity, remained trained on her face. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Apparently so. What’re you here for?”

He exhaled sharply. “If I tell you, will you shut up and let me think?”

“No promises, but maybe.”

“Late work. I forgot to turn in the Transfiguration exam last week.”

She made a tutting sound as she lazily shuffled through the crumpled parchment in her satchel. “I expected more from you. Aren’t you gonna ask me how I wound up here?”

“No. I am going to ask you to stop talking now, though.”

~

“That’s terribly unfortunate,” Hermione said over breakfast the next morning. Ron and Harry were nervously chit chatting at the other side of the table over the Saturday Quidditch game against Hufflepuff--supposedly it was supposed to be quite a high stakes match. Not like Y/N cared much, though.

“Yeah! And the worst part was that he won’t even tease anymore. Like, he just sits there all broody and woe is me. We’re all witnessing our nation’s descent into war--he’s not special!”

“Who are you talking about?” asked Harry.

“Oh, just Malfoy,” said Y/N. “We have detention together with McGonagall. He’s such a nasty little greaseball, don’t you think? I mean, look at him right now, glowering over his cereal.”

“Wait! That’s it!”

“What’s it, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“It’s genius, really,” he said. “Y/N has to spend time with him alone every week, and we know that something is up with him. Malfoy is absolutely a Death Eater and has connections to You-Know-Who, but I just need to find a way to prove it.”

“I vaguely forecast where this is going, and I hate it already.”

“Listen, Y/N. It’s not for that long, and it’s for the health of the wizarding world. If you just get to know him--”

“Ick!”

“If you just get to know him, maybe get him to trust you and find out his secrets...we’d finally have enough to turn him in and throw him out of Hogwarts for good.”

“Is that really necessary, Harry?” Ginny butted in from her seat further down next to Dean. “Malfoy’s probably just exhausted like the rest of you. 6th year is difficult, and we have no solid evidence that he’s a Death Eater. I’m sure being stuck in a room with him for 2 hours is hard enough without pretending to be nice to him.”

“But what if Harry’s right?” said Y/N. “What if he is actually a Death Eater? What if he’s an active danger to the student body?”

“Exactly!” The joy written across Harry’s face at the prospect of someone else finally agreeing was infectious. “So will you?”

“Er…” She dragged her spoon across the top layer of her porridge. “In theory, sure. In actuality, I’m not sure how I could do it. Malfoy doesn’t want anything to do with me, either.”

“Love potion?” offered Ron.

“I don’t care how much of a prat he is, I’m not roofying him.”

“I rarely agree with you, Y/N, but I think you’re right. If you want to do this, you need to get him to trust you for real.”

“Your back-handed compliment skills never disappoint, Hermione. Do you think you could help me out with a plan?”

A slow smile spread across the girl’s face as she nodded. “That’s my strong suit.”

The plan they laid out over the remainder of the day was ambitious but at least do-able. Each week was split into different subtasks, the end goal being a somewhat tentative friendship between the two. 

“If you can flirt with him and get him to have a crush on you without scaring him off, you’d be in the best possible position,” Hermione told her as they walked back from the Quidditch pitch among the screaming Gryffindor fans. They’d won--yet again. “Obviously I don’t foresee that being likely, but if you pull it off somehow he’d probably be willing to tell you anything. The fact that you’re a pureblood is going to carry you through this whole ordeal. He’ll at least be accepting of your existence in the wizarding community.”

The bitter edge in Hermione’s tone made Y/N’s blood boil. There was no reason for Malfoy to be as prejudiced as he was--he’d spent his adolescence in Hermione’s academic dust. She was obviously smarter than him. 

“You got it, ‘Mione,” she said. Her voice barely carried over the cheers of her peers as they ascended the steps to the common room. “We’ll take this little ferret down. I can’t wait.”

“Don’t get too cocky, now.”

The Gryffindor after-party was crazy...per usual. The charmed self-filling goblets, the blasted playlist of Wizpop pumping through the air, and the buzzing energy of the room was giving Y/N a giant headache. She stood with Hermione and Harry by the edge of the crowd, watching Ron get hoisted up on the shoulders of the chasers. 

“No wonder the Slytherins think we’re Neanderthals,” Y/N mused. For once, Hermione didn’t respond. “Hermione? Is everything okay?”

The second she turned away to look at her best friend, gasps and whistles filled the room. She whipped back just in time to see Lavender Brown, a sweet but slightly ditzy girl in their year, pull away from a kiss with Ron.

“Oh shi--Hermione!”

Harry and Y/N shared a glance before darting after the witch--who had impressively already made it to the door. 

“Hermione, wait!” Y/N called as they jogged after her, throwing open the common room entrance and finding her sat by the tapestry on the other side of the hall, knees to her chest.

“‘Mione, what’s wrong?” asked Harry.

“Don’t be daft, Harry,” said Y/N. “You saw exactly what the rest of us did.”

“I don’t understa--”

“Harry.” Her voice was taut. “I know you’re just trying to help, but I think that it might be best if you let us be. Go back and enjoy the party.”

He gave her a tight, grateful smile before darting back through the door. Y/N wasted no more time in walking over to Hermione and throwing her arms around her shoulders.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, hugging her tight. Hermione made no move to detach them, so she continued. “Ron is an idiot. You deserve so much better--your first kiss was Viktor fucking Krum, after all. You’re hot stuff and this place is just unfortunately running dry of men who are impressive enough for you. Once you’re out of here and working in the Ministry, you’re gonna have the time of your life with men actually in your league.”

Hermione managed a sniffly laugh as she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “It’s just so fucking embarrassing, you know. Like, I have a crush on him because I think he understands me and I smelled him in my Amortentia and I thought he’d like me back, but…” She hiccuped. “Then he goes off and kisses Lavender Brown, of all people. There’s nothing particularly wrong with her or anything, but she’s so different...I’m so bookish, and she’s so girly and everything I’m not…”

Y/N took the opportunity to tuck a lock of Hermione’s hair behind her ear as she listened.

“And it can’t help but make me think--was I ever anything to him but a friend? If the girl he ends up choosing is the opposite of me?”

“Girly, don’t think like that,” murmured Y/N. “He’s a teenage boy. They don’t think of love the way that we do--to them it’s a game of availability, not of choice. At least for Ronald. You intimidate him, and by extension, you’re not available.”

“That shouldn’t matter!”

“You’re right. It shouldn’t.” Y/N drew a long breath. “So you should find someone who always has you as their first choice--someone who isn’t intimidated by your intellect. They’re out there. I promise.”

Hermione managed a shaky smile. “Thanks, Y/N. I mean it. Do you mind if I have some alone time? I don’t think I’m ready to go back to the party but I just want some quiet.”

“Of course. Let me know if you need me,” she said, brushing herself off and making to walk down the hall.

“You’re not going back to the party?”

“Nah. It hurts my head and I want fresh air. If I’m not back here in a half hour, assume that I’ve been kidnapped.”

With that, she started her walk. She wasn’t planning on going on a long stroll--there was a small balcony that she often went to when she needed to clear her head. It was beautiful, especially on a snowy night like this.

But the walk was creepy.

There was only one way in and out--a narrow, damp hallway that had absolutely no light fixtures. If Y/N really wanted to, she could cast a quick lumos, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to see what lived on the walls. The stairs were steep, too, but she managed to bound up all 40 of them in record time. 

“Who’s there?”

The sudden voice ripped a scream out of Y/N’s throat as she reached the top, catching a glimpse of the shadowy figure at the edge of the balcony that spoke. She clasped her hand over her mouth and she crept forward to the opening, getting a better look at the person that was in her secret spot.

The clouds shifted in the sky to allow more moonlight to cast a soft glow on Malfoy’s face, hardened with irritation.

“Malfoy?” Y/N asked, rather dumbly.

“What stellar observational skills,” he drawled. 

She felt her cheeks grow hot. “What are you doing here? This is part of the Gryffindor tower. Shouldn’t you be...I don’t know...playing hide and seek with the sewer rats in the dungeons?”

“Very funny.” His flat tone exposed the fact that he did not, in fact, find it very funny. “There’s no rule barring me from coming up here.”

“But why? This is my spot!”

“Because I wanted to get out. Now, I was here first, so unless you want your detention extended, I suggest you leave.”

Y/N bit the fiery comebacks on the tip of her tongue as the memories of her plan with Hermione began floating back to her. 

Week 1 -- Hold one neutral, civil conversation with Malfoy.

“I’ll be quiet. You won’t even know I’m here,” Y/N decided upon. leaning up against the balcony. The rogue snowflakes that made it past the overhanging roof melted on her cheeks. 

“That isn’t a suggestion,” said Malfoy. “I’m demanding you leave.”

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” Y/N asked, pointedly ignoring his words. “I’ve always loved the snow. It’s so quiet.”

“And it would be even quieter if you left.”

“Aren’t you the conversationalist?” said Y/N.

“If you don’t leave, I will hex you,” Malfoy told her through gritted teeth. 

“I just love how the moonlight reflects off of the snow,” continued Y/N. “It’s so...pure.”

“Please leave.”

On her walk back down the dank stairwell, she allowed herself a little smile. 

Task 1? Technically done.

~ 

The first week went largely as planned. Malfoy was cold and certainly suspicious of her, but he wasn’t completely venomous when Y/N asked where he got his quill from in Potions. It was silver, charmed to shimmer with flecks of forest green. He told her Barnaby’s in France, and that was that. She walked away from his table with all of her limbs attached. Perhaps that was all the progress she was going to make in the next few weeks, but the task at hand certainly made the prospect of her lost Friday afternoons more bearable. 

Harry was going completely batty, rambling on about how Malfoy was behind the mysterious cursed objects that had been floating about the castle without explanation. 

“And why would Malfoy bring cursed objects to Hogwarts if he has aspirations other than being expelled?” Hermione would ask over their books.

“You don’t understand, Hermione! You girls need to be careful walking around at night--especially you, Y/N. I don’t want you going missing after detention because of that slimeball.”

Y/N always gave him a laugh, berating him for his slight misogynistic commentary and turning back to whatever her task was, but the truth was that she was worried for him. The mental weight of the impending war and the fact that he couldn’t do anything about it was certainly getting too difficult for him to bear. It was heartbreaking to see the vivacious boy she’d grown up with crumble under the responsibilities of something he should never have to worry about in the first place.

Friday came much sooner than expected, and Y/N reluctantly left her friends in the common room to trek to McGonagall’s office. The walk was frigid and the wind bit at her cheeks as she rounded the last outdoor hall.

Why was this castle so dark?

A thump behind her made her jump, and Harry’s words came floating back to her. 

Remember all those cursed objects? What if there’s someone just...stalking the school grounds, waiting for someone like me to snatch?

She shivered, throwing herself at the office door and slamming it behind her.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall greeted, her eyebrows raised in amusement. “Something giving you trouble?”

“No, Professor,” she answered, setting her bag down on the desk next to Malfoy. He sent her a curious look as well. “It’s just cold outside.”

She chuckled. “I need to go speak to Headmaster Dumbledore. I expect that, upon my return, you both are in one piece and alive.”

“I’m not sure if I’m the one who needs to be given that speech,” said Y/N, bored and testing the waters.

“She’s right, Professor,” added Malfoy. “There’s no projectiles here.”

McGonagall exhaled a long, shaky breath before brushing herself off. “Please. Behave yourselves.”

“You got it, boss,” she said as she watched her Professor walk out the door. “So, Malfoy. How was your week?”

“I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’d way prefer if you didn’t speak to me,” he said, refusing to make eye contact.

“I’m not up to anything! We’re in detention together and, I dunno, since I see you sometimes at balls, I thought it’d be nice to be on good terms.”

“Good terms?” He scoffed. “You’re a Gryffindor. I’d rather you be a bloody Hufflepuff.”

“How about neutral terms?”

Even though he wasn’t looking at her, she could catch a glimpse of him rolling his eyes. “If neutral terms mean you being quiet, then, yes. Please.”

“I’ll be plenty quiet. After I hear about your opinion on what happened in Potions today with Brown and Weasley. When Snape yelled at them for holding hands.”

He let out a sharp sigh. “Believe it or not, I actually have better things to do than keep up with whatever stuff your house does.”

“But…?” Y/N pressed. She may not’ve spent her time at Hogwarts as Malfoy’s best friend, but she had grown up with the boy, and she could tell when he was holding back.

He stared blankly at her.

“Come on. I’m literally the only person in my house who’ll openly admit that they’re disgusted by that dynamic. I’m begging you.”

She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she thought she saw a flicker of amusement dance across his face for a moment. “Your house sounds more like a cult than a student group.”

“Oh, says the one from Slytherin,” said Y/N. 

“We only act like that because our families are close. What’s your excuse? Hormones and Quidditch culture?”

“Touché.” As much as she wanted to fight back, she bit her tongue. Whatever she was doing was making progress, and quicker progress than she was expecting. Her next task was to make him laugh, and she was emboldened by the fact that she could potentially be able to kill two birds with one stone. 

They sat in silence for a little bit, but this time, it was a comfortable silence. Malfoy wasn’t staring at the clock on the wall or rolling his eyes at her every move, so she had time to plot.

On one hand, she could make a fool of herself--drop her inkwell, say something stupid in class, fall down the stairs--but she had a sneaking suspicion that her sorry attempts at slapstick humor wouldn’t land well with Draco anymore. He’d become so serious lately, so solemn. This was the most light hearted she’d seen him, even compared with how he acted with the rest of his Slytherin lackeys. 

On the other, she could try to sell out her friends. She could confide in him how “big” Hermione’s teeth were (they weren’t even big) or tell him that Ron smelled of eggs (true, but that was a low blow). Something told her that this would be much more successful, but she wasn’t willing to turn to that so quickly--she was already a week ahead as it was. 

“What is it?” 

Malfoy’s bored drawl cut through her flurried thoughts. Her cheeks turned pink as she blinked, noticing that she’d been staring at him for far too long. “Nothing. Sorry. I just spaced out.”

“Sure,” he mumbled, giving her another suspicious look before turning back to his work. “Can you maybe space out somewhere other than my face?”

“Where’s your vanity, Malfoy?” she pressed as she leaned back in her chair, hair swinging over the back. 

“Shut up,” he snapped. She could tell that whatever connection they’d had in the fleeting moments beforehand was being burnt by the second, but her embarrassment and pride drove her forward.

“Merlin, what’s got you so wound up?” she prompted, noting how deliciously unraveled he looked at this. “Where’s my cool, collected Slytherin?”

He slammed hands on his desk at this, whipping around to glare at her. “What’s your angle, Y/L/N?”

“What?”

“Why are you bothering me?”

“Because I want to.” She beamed.

Malfoy ran his fingers through his hair, mussing up the usual neat manner in which it normally laid on his head. “Compelling. What do you want from me?”

“What do I want…?” She tilted her head at him, narrowing her eyes. “What?”

“You never talk to me,” he explained. “Obviously, I prefer it like that. I can’t help but wonder why suddenly you want to be making small talk. So, what is it you want from me?”

“Malfoy,” she said. “I think you’re a spoiled prick who thinks far too highly of himself and drives me insane. But I also think that you’re funnier than what my friends give you credit for. Granted, you’ve always been annoying, but I don’t want anything from you. I just want to, I dunno, make these next few months less insufferable.” Somehow the lie slipped through her teeth easier than any of her previous bluffs. 

He frowned, his mouth opening once before firmly screwing shut into a scowl. “Oh.”

“No offense, Malfoy, but what else can you offer me other than your dazzling personality?” she teased. “You know my family. I don’t need to blackmail you to pay for jewelry I’ve had my eye on or anything.”

He scoffed. “As if I’d say yes.”

“Exactly my point. It’d be fucking weird. Merlin, I’m not trying to butter you up to buy out Borgin & Burkes for me. Do I give off gold-digger vibes? Is that what this is about?”

“Fucking hell.” Malfoy turned to her in disbelief. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Answer my question. Or better yet, pull out your wallet. Wait, did I say that out loud?” She mimed surprise and covered her mouth. “Oh no! What will my mother say now that I’ve squandered my last chance of hitching you? There’s no way I can go home for Christmas break now.”

He rolled his eyes so hard she found herself worried for a moment that they were going to just permanently get stuck in the back of his head. “Hate to break it to you, but you didn’t really have a shot to begin with.”

Ouch.

She huffed and dramatically flopped over the back of her chair, hoping he couldn’t see that she’d flinched. “So you don’t think I’m pretty??” 

“Y/L/N,” he snapped, his voice a low warning. “Can I please just work? What is with you today?”

Y/N sent him a sour look before giving her Charms work another look. Malfoy was awfully quiet, and when she snuck any glances at him later on, he was angled to face away from her. 

Why did she feel like such shit all of a sudden? She cataloged the past events, trying to pinpoint the exact moment that her stomach dropped. It all made sense when the words “You didn’t really have a shot to begin with” echoed around her head once again. She’d failed Harry. She’d failed Hermione. There was no way that she was going to be able to get him to reveal his secrets now--it’s not like he was confiding in even his closest friends as Harry made apparent when he explained how vague his statements were to his fellow Slytherins on the train. Her only chance would’ve been to somehow get him to fall for her, and that wasn’t going...great. And it had been a pipedream to begin with.

When McGonagall swished back into the classroom to dismiss them, Y/N shot out of there without even looking at Malfoy again. It felt like something was lodged in her throat and she was not going to cry in front of him. No, no. She had to make it to Hermione to tell her what was going on. 

“Y/L/N?” 

Malfoy’s voice made her pause in her flee as she nearly rounded the corner in front of her, but she refused to look back. It was far enough away that it was possible she didn’t hear him.

“Wait!”

She was up the stairs and speed walking as fast as her legs could carry her to the Gryffindor tower before he even saw which way she went.

~

“I don’t think you understand,” Y/N wailed by the fire as Hermione rubbed her shoulders and Harry sat awkwardly perched on the couch. “I can’t do this. The only way this was going to work was if he had a crush on me, and I don’t think he ever will. I fucked it up! The one time you guys need me, I fuck it up! I let you down!”

Hermione’s left hand stopped its rubbing to rest firmly on her shoulder. “Please don’t be upset. You didn’t let us down. Plus, you’re only, what...two weeks in? You don’t need him to like you to make it work. Just getting him to trust you will be enough, and you’re good at that.”

“I don’t think so,” continued Y/N. “Harry said that he wasn’t even that open on the train when he overheard him talking to all of his friends. And those are purebloods that he likes! That he’s trusted and known for years and years! I’m a friend of you guys, and he knows it. I think he’d figure it out quick.”

“We should take every chance we can get,” said Harry from his spot a few feet away, his eyes lazy and unfocused on the fire crackling in front of them. “You won’t let us down if you can’t get anything, Y/N, you know that! But if you got anything from him, it’d be incredible. It’s a win-win. I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

“I’m not upset,” she said, her tone becoming defensive. “I just...don’t want to mess this up. I know how much it’d mean if I succeeded.”

“So just try!” Hermione said. “There’s nothing wrong with it. I’m sorry he was kind of mean to you today, but I don’t think that should bother you too much. He should be more afraid of what you’d say if you didn’t care about being a good person.”

“Fucking right on there,” she said, wiping away the frustrated tears. “If I was honest with him, he’d leave crying. He should be grateful that I’m taking this bet so I actually have to be nice to him.”

“That’s the spirit.” Harry leaned over to smack her back like he did his Quidditch teammates after a winning match. 

After they’d parted their ways with Harry, Hermione and Y/N made their way slowly up the stairwell to the girls’ dorms. 

“Y/N?” Hermione asked, breaking the silence. 

“Yeah?”

“Do you think, er…” She paused. “Do you think you were really upset about failing us today? Or was it something else?”

“What do you mean?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t see what else it would be.”

“I’m sorry,” responded the bright witch. “Forget I ever asked. It was a stupid thing to wonder about.”

“Weirdo,” she teased as she waved her a goodnight and made her way to her dorm.

The next morning, Y/N busied herself with revising her Charms essay over her breakfast--a cup of tea and a half-buttered piece of toast--while Hermione leaned over her shoulder, nodding or grimacing at the corrections she made. 

“Did you work during detention? Like, at all?”

“‘Mione,” moaned Y/N. “It’s too early for this. I don’t want a lecture. I just couldn’t focus.”

Her warm brown eyes narrowed as they bore into Y/N’s face. “Why were you distracted?”

“Oh, I, uh…” She stumbled over her words as Hermione drew closer. “Merlin, Hermione. I told you last night. I just felt like I was letting you all down.”

“Mhm,” was all she got in response before her best friend tilted her head back down to the parchment in front of her. 

Y/N sat, completely puzzled. What was Hermione on about? She’d been straightforward with what was hurting her--she didn’t want to mess up the only task the Golden Trio had ever given her--and, even if she hadn’t been, Hermione was smart enough to deduce things for herself. So what was she thinking about?

Her eyes drifted over to the Slytherin table where the usual 6th year pureblood gang loitered about, drinking black coffee and sulking--but Malfoy was not to be seen. She jumped when her eyes met Parkinson, her dark eyes burning into her soul as a deep scowl was written across her face.

“Malfoy, what the fuck do you want?” Ron’s voice pulled her back to reality to see him glaring somewhere behind her.

“I wasn’t here to talk to you,” a familiar voice drawled. 

She turned to see Malfoy standing behind her, a sneer written all across his stupidly pretty face.

“Miss me already?” asked Y/N as she raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side. 

“For fuck’s sake, stop doing that,” he mumbled, reaching into his pocket and throwing a box at her. “You forgot your quill. I took the liberty of properly storing it, because it seems like you lot like to just throw them in your bag. Makes me physically ill to watch.”

“Oh.” Y/N studied the intricate box in her hands before tucking it away in her knapsack. “Thanks? I guess?”

He nodded curtly, contorting his face into one last scowl to send to Ron before turning and leaving,

“So,” Hermione began, cutting her omelet at a much brisker pace, “I think we need to have a little chat. About...all of this.” 

“Why?” 

“Not right now,” she said, her voice low and her eyes flicking at Ron and Harry sitting across from them. “I don’t think it’d benefit us for them to hear.” 

“Ok?” She cautiously took a bite out of her toast and continued staring Hermione down. “You’re scaring me.”

“It’s...I don’t know. I thought I was crazy for thinking this, but it seems like we need to talk about it anyways. For this little mission of yours to work, we need to be totally open and honest with each other.”

“Sure.” Y/N took another bite. “I honestly have no clue what’s got you so on edge, though.”

“Who’s on edge?” Harry asked, leaning over the table and stealing the croissant on Y/N’s plate. 

“Hey!” she exclaimed. “Do you not see the entire plate of them over there?”

He laughed, sending her an easy grin and dunking a piece into the hot chocolate in his mug. “Finders keepers. Say, Y/N, are you busy next weekend? Ron and Lavender are going to Madame Puddingfoot’s together, and I know Hermione isn’t going to want to take a weekend off studying to go to Hogsmeade, so I thought that maybe we could go cause some trouble at the Cauldron.”

“If you stop stealing my food we can talk about it,” replied Y/N, the corners of her lips tugging up into a grin. 

“Deal.”

Hermione tugged at her arm. “I just realized I need to get something out of my room before we watch the Quidditch game. Will you come with me, Y/N?”

“Sure!” said Y/N. “Gee, I’m rolling in invitations today.”

Once they exited the dining hall, though, it immediately became evident that they were not actually heading up to the dorms. Hermione dragged her into the nearest bathroom before casting a quick silencing charm.

“Myrtle! Are you in here?” Only when she was sure silence was the only response to her question, she seemed satisfied to turn to Y/N and begin talking. “When were you going to tell me that you have a thing for Malfoy?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Y/N felt the heat that had risen to her cheeks from the last quill-encounter re-emerge.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” said Hermione. “Are you seriously going to expect me to believe that you nearly sobbed over some random pureblood git telling you you never had a chance with him because it might slow down your progress with helping us? Actually? I’ve seen you look more ecstatic about hearing that your dear granny passed away.”

“To be fair, she had really good life insurance,” Y/N cut in. “And she was an old hag. Never had a nice thing to say to me.”

“Life insurance or no life insurance...you can’t seriously expect me to believe that you were just upset about not being able to help us as much. That was ridiculous. I don’t buy it. And the way you blushed like crazy when he came over to talk to you--the way you try and pretend like you can flirt...please. Y/N, it’s clear as day. I know you, and I know you have a crush on him.”

“Hermione!” hissed Y/N. “You have no clue what you’re talking about!”

“Yes, I think I do,” she pushed. “And you need to be honest with me if you want to be of any help right now.”

Her bossiness lit a fire of rage in Y/N’s chest, but she sucked in a deep breath, shutting her eyes before releasing it. “Believe me when I say I haven’t ever acknowledged any feelings I may or may not have towards him.”

“Ok.” Her face softened. “I know it might take time, but I honestly do think I’m right. Please just...be careful. This is a really odd situation to get caught up in if you actually have feelings for the other person. You’re trying to manipulate him, for Merlin’s sake.”

“And if I have these feelings for him, I’ve done a pretty damn good job of suppressing them for however long they’ve been here.” 

Hermione sighed. “That’s true. I’m just saying that spending this much time with him is probably only going to make things worse. Will you please tell me if anything changes between the two of you?”

“Anything changes?” Y/N’s voice was dripping in disbelief. “You’re joking. Even if I was obsessed with him I don’t think there’s ever a chance of hell in anything ‘changing’ between us. He said it himself.”

“You know what I mean, Y/N,” responded Hermione. “Just promise me, ok?”

“Ok,” said Y/N. “I promise.”

That seemed to satiate Hermione as she nodded approvingly at her friend. “I think it goes without saying that Ron and Harry shouldn’t hear about this.”

“There’s nothing to hear about, but yes.” She shuffled her feet before meeting Hermione’s eyes again. “Er, I’m sorry for this being a weird question, but would you mind coming along with me and Harry to Hogsmeade? I don’t really see him like...that...and I don’t want to read into it too much and reject him if he is doing it just platonically, but just in case. Y’know.”

“Sure,” said Hermione, even though her face took on that curious expression yet again. “Anyways, you actually did forget something--you’re not wearing a single piece of Gryffindor colors for our game today. You should probably run back to your dorm before Harry and Ron notice.”

After they said their goodbyes, Y/N found herself turning over the things Hermione had said to her in her head. Did she like Malfoy? No, no fucking way. But a part of her really did think he was funny. And of course it was natural to feel rejected when anyone insinuates that they’d never consider you as a romantic interest without jest. 

Once she’d made it up to her room and grabbed a few scarves, Y/N made to put her red cloak into her satchel. Her fingers ghosted over the box that Malfoy had given her and scoffed once she saw the Malfoy crest engraved into the rich wood. 

Narcissistic snot.

Her curiosity got the better of her as she reached over to open up the elaborately decorated box. What met her was not just one quill but two--one of which was most certainly not her own. 

She took them both out, tossing the old one in a pile with her other trusty familiar white feather quills and picked up the other one. It looked familiar--identical to the quill that she’d complimented Malfoy on in Potions about a week ago. Butterflies began to flutter like crazy in her stomach as she turned it over in her hand, watching the gray and green glitter together and the magic sparkles cast a gentle light over her bed. She generally avoided dipping into her family’s pockets to get school supplies any more than she had to--it’s not like it made her friends feel good about themselves when they were reminded how rich her family was--but this might be what she could consider to be an exception. She hadn’t even liked his quill all that much when she first saw it in Potions--but it was one of those things that was so noticeable that it made sense to compliment him. 

She gave it one last look before tucking it back away into the elaborately decorated box. Perhaps she had spoken too soon when she’d told Hermione all hope was lost. 

~ 

When Monday morning Potions class with the Slytherins rolled around, Y/N wasted no time. Malfoy was alone--even his Slytherin lackeys seemed to know not to bother him. Just what she needed.

“Malfoy,” she greeted, setting her bag down on his table and looking him dead on. He raised to meet her eyes, his eyebrow raised.

“Can I help you?”

“I just wanted you to know that I also really like your immense fortune,” she said. “And your manor.”

“Well, a lot of people do,” he mumbled as he looked away to dig through something in his bag. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought he was blushing.

“I’m just letting you know,” she continued. “In case you were wanting to give them away. It worked for the quill, so I thought, well, why not?”

He exhaled, a deep and annoyed sound escaping his lips as he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “I knew I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You really didn’t have to.”

“I was getting sick of it,” he told her. “I never can stick with one quill for too long, and I thought it’d be a shame to toss it. I thought it’d be better to be charitable--it’s not like your family could get an appointment at Barnaby’s if they tried.”

“Hey!” Y/N said indignantly. “You don’t know that!”

“I’ve heard your parents try to speak French,” he said. “If you’re anything like them, you'll be barred from ever entering the country.”

“Malfoy!” 

His lips turned up into a smile, a soft laugh escaping his lips. Y/N suppressed the urge to grin in return. Task 3? Done. “What?”

“I can’t even argue with you,” she said. “It’s tragic.”

She stared at the empty stool next to him, wondering if she should just take the leap and sit with him. Malfoy seemed unbothered by her presence as he opened up his Potions book and set it next to his cauldron. “Do you want a partner?” The words left her lips before she could stop them.

He cast her a curious look before glancing at the empty stool. “It depends. Are you going to be annoying?”

She gasped in faux-offense. “What makes you think I could ever be annoying?”

“On that note, I think you better get back to Potter.” He motioned with his head towards the side of the room where most of her Gryffindor friends were chatting. Harry was staring at her, his fists clenched by his side.

Y/N smirked and sent him a wink. 

“On that note,” she said, careful to imitate Malfoy’s drawl and sending him a smug grin, “Maybe I better sit here.”

“Hm.” He awarded her one more uninterested look before rolling up his sleeves and setting out the ingredients for the potion they were brewing--Amortentia. 

She tried not to make it too obvious that she was staring at his left arm, but there was nothing on it like Harry had told her. It was just pure, unblemished pale skin that shimmered under the light. Before he could catch her looking, she quickly sat down and started pulling out her own things. After a short pause, she decided to take out the silver quill. She’d left his box back in her room--she wouldn’t be caught dead with something that had the Malfoy crest on it--but she’d wrapped it in a pouch with her own family’s emblem on the front, shimmering in gold and red.

“Why don’t you just buy your own charmed quills?” asked Malfoy after they had chopped all of the gillweed. 

“You already know. We’re an abomination to the French. We aren’t allowed entry.”

“That’s not what I mean.” His tone was meant to read as exasperated, but his words still seemed good-natured.

“I...well.” She frowned. She’d never confessed this to anyone, but she supposed that Malfoy wasn’t going to find a way to use it against her. “I don’t like to flaunt my family wealth. I think it makes people, at least in Gryffindor, like me less. I learned that pretty early on.”

He hummed something in response before sliding all the gillweed into the cauldron, turning the clear liquid into a bubbling forest green. 

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” she asked. 

He took his time finishing the note he was jotting down before he answered. “I’m not being nice. It’s just called being civil. You said it yourself, we see each other at balls sometimes.”

“We probably won’t anymore, though,” she mused. 

Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up, but his voice remained low and steady. “No. I suppose that we probably won’t. Is your family part of the Order?”

“Hm. Are you a Death Eater?” she asked brazenly. He had no business asking her something like that, and he knew it. Especially not with his family connections.

“What do you think?” he drawled, waving his bared left arm in front of her face.

“Bullshit. That doesn’t mean anything after we learned Glamour spells last year.”

“Guess you’ll just have to trust me, then,” he responded, focusing intently on the bubbling liquid in front of him instead of her face. 

“I guess so,” she replied. The weight of her Glamour comment began to sink in--she was right, after all. How had she not thought of it before? 

But he was right when he told her she just had to trust him. Could she? Y/N rested her chin in the palm of her propped hand as she watched him work. A piece of disobedient moonbeam blonde hair dangled over his forehead as he diced up the unicorn tail, his eyebrows furrowed in focus.

“Is this why you want to be my partner?” he finally asked after a few moments of silence. “So you can just stare at me while I do all the work?”

“There’s the vain Draco I know,” she said, grinning as she leaned over to punch his shoulder. 

He rolled his eyes again, scooting out of arm's reach before flipping back to Amortentia in his book. “You’re insufferable. And it’s Malfoy to you.”

“Fine, fine, Malfoy,” said Y/N. “What do you want me to do, then?”

He shoved his cutting board towards her, the half-diced unicorn tail staring up at her. “Finish dicing this and then stir it in. 9 times clockwise. I did almost all of the work, but it should be finished after that.”

Y/N sent him another glare before doing as he said. The glittering quill kept catching her attention from the corner of her eye, and she couldn’t help but notice that Malfoy was writing with just a plain white quill for the time being. HE really did just give it to me. 

After the final ingredients were diced, she began to stir, each rotation around the cauldron turning the potion to a different color. It began as the bubbling green, then a deep sea blue, then a royal purple, a crimson blood red, a glimmering gold--before settling into a pale silver.

“Wow. It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “It’s like...liquid starlight.”

“All thanks to me,” said Malfoy. “You didn’t even have to crush the Mandrake root.”

“You’re such a gentleman, Malfoy.” Her voice dripped in fake sincerity. “So, what do you smell?”

Y/N was expecting him to scowl at her and tell her that it wasn’t any of her business, but he actually leaned over the cauldron and shut his eyes. 

“I’ve never been good at explaining what things smell like.” 

“Fair.”

Once he leaned back, she took his place, shutting her eyes and breathing in a tendril of the beautiful potion. “Whoa.”

“What’s it for you?”

“I don’t...know,” she admitted. “It’s not something I can describe note by note. It kind of reminds me of something, though.”

“Something with Potter, I presume?” he said, casually twirling his generic white quill around his fingers.

“No,” she answered, surprised at how honest she was being. “It’s…I’m trying to think. Er, it’s very lavish. It reminds me of when I was younger and my parents would drag me to galas and balls and whatnot.” 

He stared at her in silence.

“What about you? Does it remind you of anything?”

“Yeah.” Malfoy reached forward to put a lid on the cauldron, effectively shutting out the steam from reaching either of them.

“Ooh, have you figured it out yet?” she teased, crossing her legs and turning to face him head on. “Let me guess. Is it someone like…”

She paused, a wicked smile stretching across her face. “Oh my god, is it Hermione? Or Luna? Or...help me out here!”

“No.” His voice was sour. 

“Ah, it’s Parkinson then, isn’t it? Tell her I’m sorry for throwing food at her if you ever have the chance. Make sure to add the part where I’m more sorry that I missed.” 

“Y/L/N!”

“It’s okay. I’d be a little let down, too.”

“Can you please just…” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Please just stop. I haven’t figured it out. Okay? Happy now?”

“I’ll leave you alone,” said Y/N. “Under one condition. You give me a hint. I’ve given you everything I know! This isn’t fair.”

“This doesn’t have to be fair,” he hissed.

Y/N kept the easy smile plastered on her face while she waited, her eyebrows raised in anticipation.

“You’re not going to let up until I tell you, are you?”

“You’d be right on that,” she said, sugary sweet.

“Fine. It’s something kind of floral.” 

“How descriptive,” she snorted as she slumped back in her stool, thinking hard. Where had she smelled it before? Y/N shut her eyes, leaning her head back and trying to immerse herself into the memory that had surfaced. It smelled like grandeur, like an open ballroom full of guests wearing expensive perfumes. She could feel spinning, spinning like she was with a dance partner. Who was it? She couldn’t quite remember--the last ball she’d been to had been years ago--but after she leaned forward and smelled the Amortentia once more time, she came to a conclusion.

“I had to have danced with him at a gala before,” she announced to Malfoy, who was looking quite unimpressed. “So I know it’s no one from Gryffindor.”

“Interesting,” was all he said before turning to his parchment and jotting something down.

Late that night, while Y/N was settling into bed, a strange idea struck her. Sure that the thought that was nagging her was completely fruitless, she had no trouble with reaching into her desk and pulling out the Malfoy box. She just had to check if she wanted to sleep well.

Here goes.

She closed her eyes, imagining the expensive scent of her Amortentia. Then she opened it, stuck her nose into the fabric, and breathed in.

Well, fuck. 

~

The internal debate going through Y/N the next day at the breakfast table was intense. On one hand, she really, really wanted to just tell Hermione that Malfoy had been in her Amortentia and she was completely fucked, but on the other…

She glanced at the witch next to her as she methodically sliced her toast into perfect, equivalent squares before dunking them in jam. Y/N liking Malfoy was not going to fit into her toast cubes. If she said anything, she would lose her excuse to talk to her about him. And her excuse to try and get close with him. 

Perhaps I can figure it out tomorrow. 

When tomorrow came, she still hadn’t made progress. Y/N was beginning to think that her so called “revelation” after they brewed Amortentia was truly just complete and utter bullshit. So what that his quill box smelled like it--all rich people kind of smelled the same at some points, and so did their houses. There was a reason why she couldn’t immediately pin the scent to anything--it wasn’t like she even knew what Malfoy smelled like.

But the truth remained that she was still attracted to someone who happened to be a rich Slytherin--so naturally, her mind began to wander. There’s no way it was Zabini--his mother owned a fragrance line, and she would’ve instantly recognized the cologne that she knew Mrs. Zabini made him wear--and there was absolutely no way that it was Crabbe or Goyle, so the only other Slytherin it left was...Nott? But that didn’t make sense either--she’d never spoken to him before in her life, even less than Malfoy. So perhaps it would be better if she didn’t think on it.

The next day of potion brewing came on a stormy Wednesday. Malfoy and Y/N worked silently together to brew a Draught of Dreamless Sleep. She was surprised to see how practiced his movements were--he didn’t even have to reference the book to recite the exact measurements and directions.

“Do you have bad dreams or something?” she asked, mostly as a joke. He didn’t seem to pick up on the light-heartedness and stiffened up.

“No?”

“Gee, you’re talkative today,” Y/N said, trying to ignore how her hand brushed his by accident when she added the scoop of anjelica. 

“Excuse me for not entertaining you,” he drawled. “I wasn’t expecting to have such a needy potions partner today.”

“I am not needy!” she gasped, smacking his arm. “I’ve sat in silence for a full hour!”

He rolled his eyes (he was always rolling his eyes) and gave the potion one more final stir before setting the lid on the cauldron. “Think you can do that again? It needs to simmer for that long.”

“Just because you’re so sweet to me,” crooned Y/N before pulling out a heavy book from her satchel. Her Charms exam was tomorrow, and, naturally, she had decided to save all of her revising work until the night before. The textbook stared back at her as she jotted a few notes onto a previously blank sheet of parchment. The quill in her hands was light and glided across the paper like the tears of Merlin, something that she had forgotten quills could do. All of her familiar basic quills were okay, but they were prone to skidding and breaking. This nib hadn’t worn down in the slightest, still at a smooth and defined peak.

Y/N couldn’t believe that, out of all people, the person to give her such a thoughtful gift was Draco Malfoy. She tried to sneak a glance at him then, moving her curtain of hair away from her face. It took all she had in her to not be startled at the fact that he was already looking back, a slightly concerned expression etched into his face.

“Is something wrong?” 

He snapped out of it the moment the words left her lips, his face hardening. “No.”

“Forget I ever asked,” she responded, turning away from him for good and focusing on her textbook. No, there was no way he could be what she smelled in her Amortentia. She liked to think that her subconscious wasn’t secretly a masochist.

~

Friday evening swung around again, much to Y/N’s dismay. She’d had a talk with Hermione later on in the week, confirming that no, she did not smell Malfoy in her Amortentia, and that yes, she was still abiding by the plan that Hermione had so carefully laid out for her. It did bother her a bit that she could be lying to her on both fronts--but at the end of the day, she was going to get the answers that Harry wanted, no matter what. 

She just had to get through the scary ass castle first. She’d forgotten how spooky Hogwarts was after her previous sprint to the door, and this time she was positively trembling by the time she turned another dark corner on her way to McGonagall’s office. Yet another cursed item had been found in the girl’s lavatory on the 3rd floor, right by some of the classes that she had taken earlier in the week. The fact that whoever was out there was capable of dark magic and actively wanted to hurt people terrified her, all that Gryffindor bravery be damned. 

So when she heard footsteps suddenly right beside her, it was no wonder that she jumped feet in the air.

“Fuck!” she sputtered, turning to see a very familiar blonde in Slytherin robes. He was frozen in place, curiously looking her up and down.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Malfoy,” Y/N said, resisting the urge to melt into a puddle of relief at the sight. This wasn’t right--wasn’t he a suspected Death Eater? “You scared me.”

He scoffed, digging his hands into his pockets. “You’re supposed to be the brave ones, right?”

“Huh?”

Malfoy motioned to her Gryffindor jumper. 

“Oh.” Heat rushed to her cheeks as she realized what he meant. “I dunno. I just get jumpy around the castle at night.”

“No shit.” They’d begun to walk now, side by side. Y/N couldn’t remember ever walking with him before--she’d always been late. “Do you think I forgot the way you screamed when you saw me at the tower?”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, reaching over and giving him a healthy shove. 

They walked in silence together. Malfoy moved noticeably slower than he normally did so he wouldn’t leave Y/N’s shorter legs in tow. McGonagall seemed pleasantly surprised to see Malfoy hold the door open for her.

“I’m glad to see you two getting along,” she said, giving Y/N a hesitant nod before grabbing the stack of papers on her desk. “I’ll be back momentarily.”

After she exited the room with a swish of her deep maroon robes, Malfoy turned to her. “Are you scared of the dark or something?”

She turned, ready to send a biting retort his way, before she noticed how gray his pallor looked...and how big the circles under his eyes were. “You look like shit, Malfoy. Is everything okay?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t change the subject.”

“Oh. Um…” Y/N pause before deciding that the little tidbit of information she was about to reveal wasn’t that important anyways. “I’m just on edge at night at Hogwarts is all. Especially with all that weird shit going on with all the cursed objects. So I kind of hate walking to and from detention.”

Malfoy let out something that sounded like a strained laugh.

“You didn’t answer my question. Is everything okay?”

“None of your business,” he snipped. “I just had a bad night.”

“Do you have trouble sleeping?” she asked, unable to keep herself from prying.

“Something like that.”

“Have you tried lavender?”

“I’m sorry?” He frowned.

“Lavender. Like the essential oil. It’s nothing magical,” she explained. “I just like to spray it in my bed sometimes before I sleep. Or I’ll use a few drops in a diffuser. I have trouble sleeping too, all the time, actually.” She shut her mouth before she had any chance to ramble further.

“It sounds a bit too floral for my taste.”

“Here.” Y/N dug around in her satchel, searching for the tiny spray bottle she kept with her at all times. “Borrow this and spritz your pillow with it before you sleep, and then tell me it’s too floral. I promise it helps.”

He glared at her. She extended her hand with the white bottle that was covered in purple decor, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “I won’t tell anyone that you have it if that’s what you’re worried about or whatever.”

“Fine,” he snapped, snatching it from her hand and dragging his fingers over her palm for just a second. “Don’t expect me to actually try it, though.”

“Just give it a sniff.” 

He huffed, but to her surprise, he actually uncapped the top and held the spray hole up to his nose, inhaling in once.

The effect was immediate. Malfoy’s face completely drained of color, becoming even grayer than he’d been when she first saw him under the light. The briefest expression of surprise fleeted over his face before he wiped it off, replacing it with something unreadable and tossing it back at her. “I’m not using this.”

“Why not?”

“Not quite my taste,” he spat.

Y/N was shocked by the sudden outburst, watching as he continued to glower at his desk. “I don’t understand. It really does help you sleep. I know it seems stupid, but I...really think you should try it. Just once, if anything.”

“Why does it matter so much to you?”

“Because I--” Y/N stopped herself before she let her mouth run without check. “I know what it’s like is all. I feel like shit if I don’t sleep. Plus, I have to spend time with you every Friday. I imagine that you’ll be slightly more tolerable if you sleep more.”

“Hm.” He sent her a particularly venomous glare. “Thanks for your concern. Consider me uninterested, though.”

“You break my heart,” she teased, pulling back her hand and placing the bottle on the corner of her desk. An idea struck her.

“And just what are you smiling about?” Draco said. His lips were turned into a sour frown. 

“Nothing, nothing,” she responded, her voice adopting a sing-song quality. All she had to do now was wait. 

He exhaled, a deep and exasperated sound. Then he turned back to whatever was in front of him.

McGonagall entered the room a few minutes later, nodding cordially at the comfortable silence the two students were in. What she didn’t know was that Y/N was waiting, just waiting for Malfoy to dig through his satchel and stop paying attention to his quill.

She got her opportunity a few minutes later, when McGonagall called him up to look over his latest Transfiguration homework.

“Mr. Malfoy, I’m happy to see that you’re taking more initiative in getting your assignments done...I have to say that you had me a bit concerned…”

While her professor kept Malfoy occupied, Y/N darted over and grabbed his quill. 

Ha.

Malfoy frowned down at his desk when he returned, giving Y/N a suspicious look.

“What is it, Malfoy?” she said, hoping her voice conveyed nothing that might hint that she took something of his.

“Nothing.”

“Hm.”

The rest of detention passed without any more discussion. Y/N was eager to run up to her dorm and set up her plan to be carried out the next morning, but she calmed her bouncing leg and forced herself to keep a straight face when McGonagall dismissed them.

“Got somewhere to be, Y/L/N?” Malfoy’s voice called after her as she sped down the hall towards the Gryffindor tower. 

“What’s it to you?” she fired back.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he picked up his pace until he was walking next to her.

“Aren’t the Slytherin dorms the other direction?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Are they?” 

She allowed herself to be amused by the way words flowed out of his mouth when he was slightly out of breath. “Why are you walking with me?”

“You said it yourself.” He kept his eyes cast on the cobblestones below them. “You don’t like walking alone at night.”

“Uh...oh.” Against her will, her feet froze and she was glued to the ground. “You’re joking, right?”

If the lighting wasn’t so dim, Y/N would have good reason to believe he was blushing with how intently he was studying his fingernails. “By all means, I can be.”

“No! No, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “Er...I’d like you to. If you want to, that is.”

He shrugged, an elfish expression spreading across his face as he took in how nervous she was. “Well, come to think of it, you didn’t ask me to. I suppose I better get back to the Slytherin dorms anyways. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near the Gryffindor Tower right now.”

“Why?” she squeaked.

“Oh, you know, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that most of the cursed things showed up on your side of the castle, yeah?”

She gulped.

“I gotta get going. Don’t want to stand around here too long. This place gives me the creeps.” With that, he turned and began walking away.

“Malfoy?” She hated how timid her voice sounded. “Consider this me asking you to walk with me.”

He slowly faced her, a sly grin plastered all over his face. “Oh? Did I hear that correctly? Do you want me to?”

“I’m only going to say this once,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and trying her best to look intimidating. “Walk with me. Please.”

“I guess I’ll take it.” Malfoy glided down the hallway to her in just a couple steps, sending her yet another smug look.

“You made up that whole ordeal about Gryffindor Tower being targeted, didn’t you?” asked Y/N as they rounded the corner to reach the staircase leading up to the common room.

“You bought it, didn’t you?” 

“Who says I didn’t just want you to walk with me?” pushed Y/N. This was as close to flirting as it would ever get for her--but it looked like, somehow, things were falling into place. The heat in her cheeks must’ve been from the excitement of making progress. 

Malfoy’s toe caught on the first stair and, if it weren’t for Y/N’s steady grip on his arm, would’ve made him go sprawling across the stone steps. 

“Merlin, Malfoy,” she said, immediately dropping her grip from his shoulder. “What’s gotten into you?”

He responded with an unceremonial snort and a withering glare. The rest of the walk was done in silence, and Y/N noted how careful his footwork became around the Gryffindor steps.

“This is me,” she finally said once they reached the tapestry for the Gryffindor dorms. He seemed surprised, and only then did it strike her that he’d probably never seen the entrance himself before. “Thanks for being such a gentleman.”

“I live to serve,” he drawled.

And just like that, he was gone.

~

Her plan was simple. She had located an extra monogrammed pouch in her cabinet, a rich mahogany color with her family crest in a vivid gold, and placed both his quill and the lavender bottle. She would corner him after breakfast or follow him out of the Great Hall and show him then.

However, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Malfoy was not coming to Saturday morning breakfast. Many people didn’t, but Y/N had never known him to miss it. His normal spot was vacant, and it certainly wasn’t a house-made decision as all of his Slytherin friends were present and accounted for. Y/N couldn’t say for sure, but she could see Parkinson turning her head to the entrance every time the doors thudded open before glancing back to Malfoy’s empty seat when it turned out to be someone else.

Where was that loser?

“Excuse me,” she said to the trio as she stood up and brushed off her skirt. “I think I’m going to go get some fresh air. I have a bitch of a headache.”

Hermione and Harry expressed their sympathies while Ron gave her a characteristic mumble through his mouthful of bread, and she was off with the pouch secured in her cloak pocket.

It was a clear November morning, clearly Mother Nature’s attempt to slowly move the world from the crisp autumn to a cold winter. The sky was clear and the sun’s rays warmed her skin at a slanted angle, casting weak shadows across the courtyard.

If I were Malfoy, where would I go to sulk?

The obvious answer was either the Slytherin common room or his own dorm, but that was without a doubt out of question for her. She wasn’t even sure if she possessed the knowledge to guess which corridor the entrance was in, much less work out the password herself. Beyond that, just getting into the common room and waiting would be...She shivered. It would be a terrible idea while she was clearly wearing a cloak in Gryffindor red and gold trim. 

As she continued her aimless wander around the castle, she heard the slightest sound from the girl’s bathroom on the second floor. It wasn’t ever really in use--no one came in there to actually use the loo unless they wanted Myrtle to materialize and tell them her supernatural troubles while they were in the middle of their personal business--but it was often the source of strange happenings. 

Like the cursed objects she thought to herself, her nails digging into her palms. But did she care about that right now? Surely cursed objects seemed somewhat...suspicious. Dark magic was difficult to hide, and to a pureblood eye that grew up around magical objects, cursed things shouldn’t be impossible to spot. 

And, plus, it was Malfoy she was looking for. None of the students had died from the curses so far, and if she was able to break through and learn something, or at the very least gain his trust, the reward to the Order would be more than worth it.

She stepped in, expecting to see an entirely empty bathroom with perhaps a ghost rattling around at the sink. Instead, a different sight awaited her.

Draco Malfoy was clutching the edge of the cracked sink basin in front of him, rocking himself back and forth and shaking. From her vantage point, she could see that he was dressed in his normal garb--a black ensemble--but his hair was unruly and messy, sticking up in the back like he’d hurriedly tugged something over his head.

A strangled gasp grounded her and halted her curious observations. Malfoy began to make these awful sobbing sounds, like he could barely manage to breathe. 

Y/N was frozen in place as she surveyed her options. If she stayed and tried to talk to him, he might react in anger or hurt her. But if she just left him, like this, all alone...She swallowed once before stepping forward.

“Malfoy? Are you okay?” Obviously he’s not, you bint said a voice deep in her brain. She pushed it aside as he swung around, his wand raised and his eyes blazing. “Whoa! I’m not going to...Put your wand down!”

He stared at her, his eyes wide with horror as he continued to shake, so much so that his wand slipped out of his hand and clattered to the floor. Without thinking, Y/N reached into her pocket and flung her wand away, holding her hands up.

“I’m not going to try anything. I promise.”

As she drew closer, she could see the remnants of tears on his wet cheeks and the way that his silver eyes were rimmed with a bloodshot red. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he hissed, his voice weak and cracking. 

“Neither should you. This is the girl’s bathroom.”

final a/n: ok so lmk if you guys wants me to continue. i really did not edit the last half fjkdsal;f also kinda made this an au where malfoy tried to assassinate dumbledore. with more than one cursed object but dw it’ll all make sense ill clear that up 😭

#draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco x you #draco #draco malfoy x you #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x oc #draco malfoy x oc

[mypoisonedvine]

A Year Gone By | dark!Bucky Barnes x reader

happy birthday @nsfwsebbie​!!

it was supposed to be a surprise but then I couldn’t stop myself from telling you I was writing something, I managed to keep most of it under wraps though!  I hope the suspense pays off.  

idk if it’s weird that i made it a doctor reader when you’re not a doctor but listen...half the fun of reader insert is getting to vicariously live through a cool career right??  the other half of the fun is the obvious thing.  and it seemed a little creepy if i made the reader exactly like you but if you want it to be more accurate i will totally write you something with actual you in it lol

ANYWAYS I hope you enjoy it and most of all I hope you have a lovely, relaxing, fun birthday.  and i hope it makes you h word lmao.  ily darling <3

warnings: noncon, dubcon, stalking/kidnapping, ddlg, loss of virginity, bondage, oral sex (m and f receiving), anal sex, d/s, pet play, degradation, painful sex/pain kink, cockwarming, breeding, somnophilia (slightly), spitting, pregnancy mention, breeding kink, mention of drugging... I think that’s everything.

word count: just over 15.5k (YIIIIKES my bad)

Bucky always looked forward to appointments with you.  It wasn’t just because he had a crush on you, honest; you really were the best doctor he ever had.  Then again, between chain-smoking Brooklyn doctors who handed out morphine like candy and cruel Nazi or Soviet scientists, you weren’t competing with anybody too incredible.

“It’s not so bad,” he bluffed, but he couldn’t hide the wince when you touched his bruise.

“You’re not a very good liar, Sergeant,” you told him with a smile.  God, he loved when you called him that.  He hoped his body wouldn’t react to it in any uncomfortably obvious ways.  “Honestly, I’m a little worried about the bones.  I want to do an X-ray, if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead,” he shrugged, “but you’re probably worrying too much.”

“You plan to walk off a compound fracture?” you scoffed.

“Bet I could, if you kiss it to make it better,” he smiled.  He was expecting you to giggle a little at the casual flirtation, which you did, but he was surprised when you bit your lip at the end of it.  That made it impossible to stop his cock from getting a bit interested, but thankfully it was still easy enough to hide.  Clearly his casual flirting was starting to get to you, and it made him especially impatient but he tried to stay calm.

“I’m a good doctor, but I’m not that good.  A prescription will do more for you,” you replied as you wrote something in his chart-- presumably that he needed to go down the hall for some x-ray work.

“If you say so.”

“Anything else bothering you?” you asked him.

“Oh, no, I won’t waste your time,” he dismissed.

“I’m getting paid, don’t worry,” you laughed.  “I don’t have any more appointments until after lunch.  Is there anything else going on?”

He shifted a little, the paper on the examination table crinkling as he did it.  “Um… it’s nothing, I just--” he glanced up at you but then looked away again, still embarrassed to admit it-- “I’ve had a little trouble sleeping…”

“Nightmares?” you pressed.  “Or general insomnia?”

“Um, nightmares,” he finally admitted, “not as bad as normal.  The meds helped.  Just… I still get them sometimes.”

“How many nights a week would you guess?” you asked.  But you didn’t look to his chart like it was a quiz or something, you kept looking at him with patience and compassion.  That was what really made his heart melt.

“Probably 2 or 3.”

“So we’re down from 6 to 7,” you remembered from what he’d said before you’d given him the medication he was on now, “that’s good.  That’s progress.  But, maybe we need to up your dosage if you haven’t seen better results after 4 weeks.  You haven’t missed any doses, have you?”

He tried to fight his embarrassed smirk but it was too late.

“Bucky!” you scolded playfully.  “I can’t up your dosage until you’re actually being consistent on the amount you already have, okay?  I know it can be easy to forget but you have to stay on it.  Set a timer on your phone or something if you need to.”

He nodded, but the problem wasn’t forgetting to take them as much as it was being ashamed that he needed them at all.  But he’d stay on them if it made you happy.

“Anything else?  Headache, twisted ankle, burns when you pee?”

He laughed and shook his head.  “No, I think that’s everything.”

“Great, then I’ll let you get to your newly-booked X-ray appointment.”  You handed him a sheet of paper for him to take to the X-ray office which informed the nurses there what angles you wanted on his ribs.  “Just know that you can call me if you need anything, alright?”

He took the slip of paper but suddenly couldn’t respond, too lost in looking at you and wondering if you’d felt that same jolt of electricity when his hand brushed yours.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“You take care of so many people,” Bucky pondered aloud, “I just wonder if someone takes care of you.”

He could tell by your face that you didn’t like the way his tone shifted, but he refused to backpedal.  Just this once, he wanted to see you squirm a little bit.  

“Wanna lollipop?” you asked him nervously as you handed him the plastic-wrapped red sucker in offering, but he waved it away.  

He spent the rest of the afternoon thinking about how you would look with the cherry lollipop in your mouth: the way it would push your cheek out from the inside, stain your lips and tongue bright red, make your mouth taste like pure sugar.  

Of all the things he’d imagined before, that was the one that made him realize it couldn’t just be a fantasy anymore.  Thankfully, he hadn’t just been thinking of all the filthy things he wanted to do to you; he’d also been coming up with a plan.

~

The first thing you perceived when you woke up was the smell.  It didn’t smell like your room.  Such a simple difference, one you hadn’t even realized you would notice, but one that stood out instantly.

You opened your eyes and instantly spun your head around when you saw the grey cement room you were in.  The bed underneath you creaked, unlike your bed, and you looked down at it as if you somehow expected to be in an unknown room but still be in your own bed.  

It was then that you realized you were restrained with, of all things, satiny pink rope which pulled each of your limbs to the nearest bedpost.  There was enough slack that you could wiggle around some, but it wasn’t exactly roomy either.  Your heart raced as you pondered who could have possibly done this, and why.

You startled when you heard the door open, but relaxed when the menacing form suddenly struck you as familiar.

“Bucky,” you sighed with relief, “oh thank god you’re here-- quick, help untie me.”

As soon as you said it, though, you realized something wasn’t right.  He didn’t look concerned at all, or confused.  And that should be a good thing because it meant he had answers, except that you were suddenly realizing this was more complex than you were prepared for.

“Bucky… where are we?” you asked him, quieter, as you realized that he was not going to untie you immediately.  Even still you were coming to terms with the possibility that it wasn’t really a matter of where we were and where, specifically, you were.

“Somewhere safe,” he answered simply, stepping closer.

You didn’t exactly believe that.  

“Please, help untie me,” you requested again.

“I will,” he assured, “but I want to explain something first.”

Your heart sank straight through your stomach.  You didn’t understand what was going on quite yet, but you were getting the gist enough to know that this was really fucking bad.

“Bucky,” you pleaded as he sat down beside you on the bed, “please let me go.”  You felt very aware of how thin your pajama set was, how if he tried hard enough he could see your nipples hardening underneath your top for no apparent reason.

“Don’t get upset,” he soothed, “everything’s fine.  I’m not going to hurt you-- nobody will anymore.  You’re gonna stay here, with me, and I’m gonna take care of you.”

Your eyes burned with tears you couldn’t fight anymore.  “Don’t do this,” you begged, “I’m your friend-- we’re friends, remember?”

“Of course I know that,” he sighed, “but that’s not enough.  Couldn’t you tell I’d fallen in love with you?”

You shook your head, trying to process everything you were hearing.  “This is insane.  This is not what you do when you have feelings for somebody, Bucky.”

“What, you’re saying I should’ve just asked you out?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have been able to say yes-- because you’re my patient--”

“See?  That’s what the ropes are for!” he smiled, like he was actually proud of his problem-solving skills.  “You would’ve said yes if you could, I know.  But you couldn’t.  And now you don’t have to.”

You resented that he was right, that you would’ve dated him in a heartbeat if it wasn’t an ethical violation.  You got the sense there were going to be even more severe ethical violations in your future, though.

You continued to beg him to stop, but it fell on deaf ears as he reached under the elastic waistband of your pajama shorts and pulled them down slowly.  He gasped when he saw your pussy and you wished you could just disappear, turn invisible or, best of all, teleport out of here; anything to avoid this humiliation.

“Baby, you’re wet,” he observed.  You weren’t sure if the first or second half of the sentence made you more uncomfortable, but either way, you couldn’t stop the shivers from dancing up your spine.  “This all for me?  Do you like being tied up?”

You refused to answer, looking to the side as if the concrete wall was suddenly fascinating to you, but he grabbed your jaw and turned you to look at him.

“I know you don’t know all the rules yet, but here’s the first one, and maybe the most important: answer me when I speak to you.”

It was cold but not quite threatening; still scared you senseless, though.  You nodded.

“Do you like being tied up?” he repeated.

“N-no,” you answered.

“Answer honestly,” he specified.

You had, but you realized it was going to be safer to do what he wanted, so you cleared your throat and spoke again.

“Yes,” you whispered, “I like… being tied up.”

“That’s it?” he pressed.  “It’s not me being here, is it?  You never got wet when you saw me in appointments?”

This was going to be a lot harder than you anticipated.  It seemed like there was no right answer.

“Didja ever get wet for somebody else?  It was Steve, wasn’t it?”

“No!” you instinctively answered.  “Um, I like Steve.  But just as a friend.”

“Aw,” he smiled, “I knew you were the loyal type.  Remember just a minute ago when you were begging me to stop cause you were my friend?  I think you were lying then too, doll.  You didn’t want to be just friends with me.”

“Whatever you’re going to do, just do it,” you grimaced.  “I’m getting irritated.”

You yelped when he slapped the inside of your thigh, trying to pull away but only making it easier for him to dip under your leg so that he was between them, sitting back on the bed in front of you.

“Respect gets you a long way with me,” he promised, pulling a knife from a strap on his thigh and using it to quickly cut off the shorts.  “Sass does not.”

You winced as he slipped a finger into you-- metal, and it was cold, too.  Soothed the burn a bit, at least.

“Oh god,” he sighed, “just one finger and it barely fits…”  You watched realization pass over his face as his gaze moved to your eyes.  “Baby, are you a virgin?”

You closed your eyes because you knew they would reveal the truth.  In all honesty it was probably better that he knew so there was at least some chance of him going easy on you, and yet you were still embarrassed for him to find out.

“Oh, you’re going to spoil me,” he grinned.  “You really are too good to be true.”

A second finger pushed into you and a bite to the lip suppressed your moan.  

“I’ll warm you up first, don’t worry,” he cooed.  “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Then why did you tie me up?”

“That’s for your safety, baby.  I don’t wanna have to hurt you,” he clarified.

A third finger, immediately after you had adjusted to the second.  You had never had so much inside you before and it made you feel a bit dizzy.  His thumb grazed over your clit and you nearly jumped right off the bed as your hips bucked suddenly-- since when were you so sensitive?!

“Oh, poor little baby, you need it so bad,” he faux-pouted.  You couldn’t tell if it was a mockery or genuine concern.  “You’ll get it angel, don’t worry.  Daddy’s gonna take care of you.”

That word made you feel a little sick.  No wonder he needed to kidnap girls to get his rocks off, clearly this was the kind of stuff a normal date wouldn’t agree to.

Then again, it was Bucky Barnes.  He could probably get any girl he wanted, even if he had some weird tastes.  You still didn’t understand why it had to be you, specifically.  

His thumb stayed on your clit, the pressure moving from teasing to firm to nearly too much.  You tried to angle your hips away but the ropes stopped you (of course), and you were forced to take every sensation he gave you.

“You’re trying so hard to stay quiet, just let go,” he encouraged.  “I wanna hear how good I make you feel.”

“Maybe I’m just naturally quiet,” you bluffed, but even just those few words were strained, and surrounded by panting as you failed to catch your breath.

“Oh, we both know that’s not true.  I’ve heard you when you thought you were alone, doll.”

You knew what he must have meant, but it still made you whimper when he leaned in to whisper in your ear: “I heard you touching yourself.”

Your face was burning and you were sure you’d never blushed so hard in your life.  You couldn’t be sure how much he’d heard, but just the way he smiled down at you made you sure he must have heard the times that his name passed your lips as you reached your peak.  

Of course he couldn’t just let you stew in that, he had to mock you even further.

“Oh Bucky,” he recalled, raising the pitch of his voice a little, “please let me come, I’m so close, please…”

“Stop,” you begged, tears sliding down your temples.  The fingers twisted inside you as both of you groaned.

“Yeah, it’s not a very good impression,” he sighed, “it’ll sound better when you do it.  Don’t you wanna moan for me again?”

“You stalked me,” you realized aloud, “you spied on me at night, you kidnapped me--”

“And now we’re both getting what we want.  I know you wished it was my fingers instead of yours.  Doesn’t it feel good baby?  Admit it.  Tell me it feels good.”

You were determined to resist until he pulled his fingers out and used the metal hand to slap your pussy, both of you gasping at the wet noise it made.  He did it again and your hips bucked wildly even as you were trying with everything in you not to react.  One more and you finally moaned, the pain brief but strong while the pleasure never seemed to lessen.

“Just be honest,” he demanded, “I know you love it.  I just need you to say it.”

One more spank and you were finally willing to cut your losses.  “It feels good!” you exclaimed.  You cried out when he hit you again, not having seen it coming at all since you’d done as he asked.  “Say it again.”

“It feels good, Bucky, your fingers feel good,” you whimpered.

He finally seemed to calm down, giving you an oddly friendly smile.  “Was that so hard?”

You shook your head, just trying to appreciate the stillness while you could.  

“One little thing though: you don’t call me Bucky anymore.  My friends call me Bucky; you’re so much more special than that.  You’re my perfect little angel, and you call me Daddy.”

You saw it coming, but it didn’t make it any less awful.  You squirmed a bit as he pushed up your top, biting his lip when he got a glimpse of your breasts.

“Oh, when did these get hard, huh?” he smiled as he tweaked your nipples between his fingers.

“It’s… cold in here,” you explained uncomfortably.

“Uh huh,” he pretended to believe you.  “Don’t worry, we’ll find a way to warm you up.”

He let go of your tits so he could pull back and start undoing his belt; you swallowed dryly, not wanting to watch but unable to look away.

Of course he was big.  It explained his personality, and you’d had your suspicions (and/or fantasies), but now all it did was scare you.

“Will it hurt?” you asked weakly.  He smiled as he pulled off his shirt from behind his neck, tossing it aside.  

“No baby, I stretched you with my fingers so you can take me.  Might be a little bit of an adjustment at first, but we’ll go slow, okay?”

You couldn’t decide if it was sweet or patronizing.  A little of both, perhaps.

He leaned over you, resting one hand beside your head as the other guided his cock to rub through your folds.  You struggled again, barely able to process that this was actually going to happen, that you were going to lose your virginity tied up in some creepy sex dungeon to an obsessive patient who demanded you call him ‘Daddy.’  This wasn’t exactly the situation you had been saving it for.

“Ready for me, baby?  Want me to make you mine?” he asked with a look of excitement, even vulnerability.  Your body craved more after he’d left you dangling on the edge from his fingering, but your brain was thankfully still functioning properly.

“Please don’t,” you whimpered, “you can stop now, and I won’t tell anyone, and--”

“Baby, don’t talk like that,” he frowned.  “This is it, okay?  Us.  Just us.  Nobody else to get in the way.  You’re not gonna tell anyone ‘cause there’s no one to tell.”

“You can’t,” you denied, “I have a life-- people who care about me, who are going to notice that I’m gone--”

“No, babygirl, stop-- you’re not listening to me,” he growled.  “Stop fighting.  You’re mine.  You’re finally where you belong.”

“This is crazy,” you spat, “you’re crazy!”

“Baby…” he looked dejected, crestfallen.  “You’re the only one who’s ever helped me feel normal again.  If I’m crazy it’s only because I love you so much; I need you, doll.”

“You need intensive psychiatric care!”

Sadness shifted to anger as he sat back and stuffed his cock back into his trousers, even though it barely fit now that it was fully hard and leaking from the tip.

“I realize now I’ve given you more than you can handle.  I knew you liked me back so I figured you would understand a little sooner but… I should’ve known you need more time before you really admit to yourself that you need someone to take care of you.”

Your relief shifted to fear when he stood back up off the bed and stepped away.

“Wait, don’t leave me here,” you squeaked, “untie me, please.”

Instead he knelt down and pulled a box out from under the bed.  You couldn’t see what was inside when he opened it, but he seemed to find what he was looking for when he pulled out a vibrator and shut the lid.  It was thin and a little curved, so when he roughly shoved it into you it hit right on your g-spot.  You tried to squirm away but he held your hips down and turned it on to a setting that strobed the vibrations, teasing your spot but never giving you enough to get very far.

“I’ll come back when I think you’ve learned your lesson,” he informed you quickly as he started to leave the room.

“Bucky-- Bucky wait!” you called after him.  “There’s no food or water you can’t leave me here wait don’t go BUCKY!”

But he was long gone.  The door slammed behind him and echoed around the room; only when the sound was completely dead were you sure that he wasn’t coming back any time soon.

You had no way of knowing how much time had passed, but it felt like an eternity of you wiggling against the ropes, trying to either knock the vibrator out of you somehow or get it to move enough that you could at least come and feel some relief.  Trying to push it out with your muscles was useless since the curved shape kept it inside of you, and you couldn’t arch your back enough to press it into the bed-- and if you could, you weren’t sure what good that would do.

Every once in a while the vibration would echo through your clit and it made your eyes water.  You sobbed and bit your lip, hoping he would come back soon.

It was at least twice as long before he did, and at that point your voice had gone hoarse from calling out to him.  You cried out for Bucky at least a hundred times and got nothing; but when you called for ‘Daddy’ just once, he suddenly appeared.

Somehow his return didn’t bring much relief, because you weren’t exactly safe with him around… but at least you weren’t alone.

He reached between your legs and turned the vibrator off, though he left it inside of you.  You took a deep breath and appreciated the stillness, though your body panged with hunger from so much pleasure with no release.

“I hated doing that to you,” he breathed deeply as he sat beside you on the bed, “but it had to be done.  You were behaving so poorly.  I’ve gone easy on you up until now but I can’t tolerate any more rebelliousness, alright?”

You nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his disappointment sink over you.  

When he pulled out the vibrator, the tip of it grazed over your abused and sensitive g-spot and you bit back a groan.  He set it aside and admired the mess you’d made; you couldn’t see it, of course, but you could tell that there was a wet patch of arousal beneath you on the sheets.

“Your body is ready for me, but I’m not sure your mind is right yet,” he explained, steely gaze finally meeting yours.  “Are you going to be good, little girl?”

You were too exhausted to notice the nickname, or even to speak your reply.  You just nodded again, watching him as he started unlacing his boots and slipped them off, then took his socks, trousers, and underwear off along with them.

Shit, you’d nearly forgotten how big he was.  You swallowed with a dry throat and closed your eyes, just hoping it would be over with quickly.  

“Open your eyes babygirl, I wanna look at you,” he murmured, running a finger across your cheek.  You reluctantly obeyed and saw him hovering above you.  He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips and it felt so wrong, so empty and peculiar.  It was a weak facsimile of what a kiss was supposed to be like.  He closed his eyes and ran his fingers into your hair, and it had all the trappings of the kind of kiss you’d share as a goodbye after a first or second date, but without any of the stuff that mattered like positive feelings or consent or not being in a creepy cement sex dungeon-- or whatever this was supposed to be.

He pulled away and looked down at you again, anger just starting to brew in his eyes.  “Kiss me back,” he demanded.  This time when he pressed his lips to yours, his tongue slid between them and it made you feel a little sick but you did your best to reciprocate.  You found yourself trying to reach up to put your hands on his hair or neck but of course, the ropes made it impossible.

You felt his cock pressing between your thighs, rubbing up and down slowly, and your heart began to race.  One hand slid between your bodies to guide his cock towards your entrance and he said something but you couldn’t hear it because your ears were ringing.  

As soon as he pushed into you, your body jolted, trying to squirm away, but he just kept going, sliding into you in one long stroke.

Physically, it wasn’t painful.  The vibrator had helped relax your walls, even numbed them a little bit.  And yet, even without pain it was so much.  You felt like the wind had been knocked out of you, like you were so full you couldn’t even breathe.  

When he was fully seated inside you, Bucky moaned deeply, kissing your neck and mumbling something about how perfect you were.  But all you could focus on was his cock pulling back only to slam home again.  

“Fuck!” you yelped.  You had no idea anything could be so deep inside you.  

“Watch your language, angel,” he purred, biting at your earlobe.  “You promised to be good, remember?”

The hand that had been gripping your thigh suddenly moved to rub your clit and you choked on a moan.  

“It’s okay, it’s supposed to feel good,” he encouraged.  “It’s okay to come, baby.  I know how bad you wanna come for me.”

You were embarrassingly close as he had observed, a side effect of having been left on the edge for so long.  You could feel your walls rippling around him, and you wondered if he could feel it, too.  Every thrust stroked parts of you that you hadn’t even realized existed, and when he pushed as deep as he could into you, the tip of his cock hit something so sensitive that you genuinely couldn’t tell if it was painful or pleasurable.  

“Are you close?  I don’t know how much longer I can last, you’re so tight,” he groaned.  “Fuck, you want me to fill you up don’t you?  Wanna be full of Daddy’s cum?”

Before you could even consider ignoring his question, he wrapped his left hand around your neck.

“Yes, Daddy,” you croaked through the weight on your windpipe, “fill me up, please.”

Talking like that made your heart twist with shame but somehow pushed you even closer to your peak.  You knew he could tell that you were turned on by it from the way your muscles tightened around him.

“I will baby, I promise,” he smiled.  “Do you wanna beg to come, like you did when you were by yourself?”

You moaned because it was like a fantasy come true, in a monkey’s paw sort of way.  This is what you had wanted, right?  Just… in a way completely different from how it was turning out?

“Daddy, please,” you answered, so quiet and heavy with embarrassment that it was barely above a whisper, “please let me come.”

“Oh fuck,” he responded hoarsely as his thrusts came faster, more ragged.  “Come, princess.  I wantcha to scream for me.”

As you started to fall over the edge, you felt like you had lost control over your body; your arms and legs tugged at the ropes as jolts of pleasure coursed through them, and your mouth was spilling moans and whimpers and even his name.  His real name, specifically, though he thankfully didn’t seem to mind.  He kissed you again as he came, moaning into your lips and still inside you.  

You felt cold and sticky and humiliated as he sat up and pulled out, admiring the way your hole leaked out his seed and flexed involuntarily around nothing.

“Oh look at you,” he praised, “my perfect little girl.  You’re even more amazing than I dreamed, doll.”

You tried not to listen or watch him as he got off the bed, coming back with boxers on and a damp washcloth to clean you.

“I’m gonna untie you now, okay?  Promise you won’t kick me or anything?” 

You quickly nodded, willing to promise anything if it meant getting untied.  “You’ll just do more harm to you than to me if you try anything, angel,” he reminded you quickly as he started work on your right ankle.  The ropes were silky so they hadn’t been rubbing your skin too raw, but there was still soreness from the tight knots.  You were a bit surprised when he gave your ankle and foot a brief massage once he was done untying the rope, and did the same to your other foot, and then your wrists and hands.  It helped a lot with getting the blood flow back to normal, and you almost considered thanking him but that would’ve been ridiculous.  ‘Hey, thanks for the foot massage, next time don’t tie me up and rape me first but, otherwise 10/10.’  

~

Bucky was so impressed with the progress you’d made in a week.  Only two escape attempts and you’d taken your punishment quite well both times.  He had expected a rocky start, he’d understood what he was getting himself into, so none of it really came as a surprise.  You’d managed to get a good crack at his nose once, kicking him straight between the eyes before making a run for it.  Yes, it hurt like a bitch and took a few days to heal, but it had actually been a blessing in disguise; that day you’d made it out the front door and realized that you were in the middle of nowhere.  When he’d caught up to you, you were standing barefoot and half-naked in the snow, not even running anymore because, apparently, you’d realized there was nowhere to run to.  

“I built this place for us, for you,” he explained.  “Somewhere far away, all to ourselves.  Nobody for miles.”

“How many miles?”

He chuckled a bit to himself.  “Baby, it’s a really big number.  You’re too little to understand.”

Normally you resisted that sort of talk but this time it shut you up.  Hopefully you were beginning to properly realize that this was your new life.

“Are we in New York?” you asked, quieter.

“I’m not sure if I should tell you that yet.  I don’t want you to get any complicated ideas in that pretty little head,” he cooed, kissing your forehead for emphasis before leaving you behind to start cooking dinner.

“I’m not eating with these,” you announced firmly as he set your place at the table with a set of pink, rubber-coated utensils.  

“It’s too messy to eat with your hands,” he frowned.

“Do you honestly not realize that I want to eat with normal utensils?  Or are you just trying to drive me insane?”

Bucky set your plate down a little too firmly, making you and the food on top jump.  “Don’t talk back to me.”  

“I just… it’ll take me forever to finish an adult-sized portion of food with child-sized utensils.”

“Then maybe you’re not ready for an adult-sized portion,” he threatened.  That seemed to get your attention, but you stayed quiet.  “Maybe you’re not hungry at all?”

“I’m hungry,” you denied.  “Please, I want to eat.”

“And I want to eat with you.  But this roundabout is getting on my last nerve, doll.  Now are you gonna be good and eat your dinner?”

“...yes, Daddy,” you sighed.  He smiled and sat down across from you.  You were learning.  Slowly, but surely.

Bath time was always a fight, though.  You still had some ridiculous notions about ‘privacy’ and ‘autonomy’ and crap like that, and it meant that you were likely to act up and refuse to be washed.

“I can do it myself!”

“But you don’t have to, don’t you see?”

“I want to.”

“The world doesn’t revolve around what you want, angel.”

“Let me guess: it revolves around what you want?” “No,” Bucky shook his head and tried to summon some more patience, “I have to take care of you.  Sometimes that means doing things you don’t like, because I know what’s best for you.”

“I hate you,” you mumbled as you turned away, and that really broke his heart.  He knew you didn’t really mean it, but it still hurt.

“Baby… don’t say that,” he pleaded as he turned your face to him.  “It hurts Daddy’s feelings when you say things like that.”

“Yes, that was the idea,” you hissed.  “I just want to take a shower, alone.”

“Any chance you had at that is long gone,” he grimaced.  “What you’re getting is a bath, with me, and if you quit this attitude now you might still be able to avoid getting a spanking as well, do you understand?”

Your shoulders slumped as you nodded.  He knew your poor little bottom was still sore from the last spanking, and as he helped you undress for the bath, he could still see a few welts along the skin.  He kissed them quickly, a reminder to both of you what he was capable of, before helping you into the water and slipping in behind you.  It was spacious, so there was ample room for the two of you, but he still held you close and pressed your back into his chest.  

He had a lot of ideas about what you two could do in this bath, but he knew that now was not the time.  Still, he let his mind wander and smiled to himself when you gasped from his erection pressing into your thigh.

He helped you wash your hair, and for that moment where your head was nearly submerged and he was using his fingers to massage out the shampoo, you looked so peaceful.  He normally only got to appreciate this look on your face as you slept, but you were almost smiling this time, and it made his heart sing.  A week of tantrums was worth it for just a few quiet moments like this.

“I’m gonna let you finish up on your own, okay?  I trust you not to do anything dangerous…” he decided as he stepped out.  

“Really?” your face instantly lit up.  Sure, you’re never supposed to leave them alone in the bath, but he was feeling extra generous and he sympathized with your desire for control.  Freedom could be good for you, in moderation.

“Of course.”

“T-thank you, Daddy,” you awkwardly responded.

He dried off and dressed, and waited nearby in the living room, listening to you drain the bathwater and start a shower.    

You emerged wrapped in a towel and looking slightly lost.

"Honey, where are your clothes?" he asked you with a furrowed brow.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” you informed him.  Oh, right.  You were being resistant to wearing the clothes he had picked out for you.  Apparently you found the overwhelming presence of baby pink to be tacky, and you hated that everything was cute and tiny… he couldn't understand seeing something cute and tiny and not liking it.  After all, you were the most adorable thing he'd laid eyes on and it made it impossible not to like you.  You just needed clothes to match.

“I have clothes laid out for you,” he explained.

“I’d rather be naked than wear what you pick for me,” you snarled.

“Hey, I wouldn’t complain,” he shrugged, trying to suppress his frustration.  “Don’t come bitchin’ to me when you’re cold, though.”

You sat next to him on the couch, defiantly naked and confidently ignoring him.  He admired your stubbornness, or at least he found it amusing.

“Do you wanna watch a movie now?” he asked, but he knew you had figured out that this was a mandatory activity.

“Don’t see any reason to wait,” you smiled sarcastically.

Of course, when he got up to show you some DVDs so you could pick what you wanted (Wall-E; he knew you didn’t actually want to watch that since your typical fare was horror and action movies, but it was your favorite of the options), he quickly turned down the thermostat.  Perhaps a comfortable 55 Fahrenheit would help you remember why it’s important to take what Daddy gives you.

He hadn’t seen Wall-E before but he found it oddly relatable.  A robot, built for someone else’s purpose, abandoned in a filthy, empty world… it brought back some old feelings that he managed to press back down.  

Regardless, he was distracted from it when he could literally feel you shivering from across the couch.

“Are you cold, darling?” he asked presumptuously.

“No,” you denied, barely managing to suppress the chattering of your teeth.

“Do you want the clothes?” 

“Shut up.”

He just laughed a little to himself, ignoring your rude language and turning back to the TV.

It did kill him a bit to have to pretend he didn’t care when you were obviously uncomfortable, but you would’ve been even more irritated with him if he’d held you down and forced you to put the outfit on.

~

This fucker was smart, you’d give him that.  Or maybe it was just that you were stupid.  Not stupid, really, but having no sense of self-preservation.  Why had you chosen this hill to die on?  You couldn’t even remember why you’d put up a fight at all.  You were so cold that you couldn’t even understand what could’ve ever compelled you to reject an offer of clothes.  Didn’t help that you knew he was so close, that if you cuddled up to him you would be warm, but that it would mean the loss of your last shred of dignity.

Only a week and you were starting to completely lose your sense of yourself.  You searched within and couldn’t find any of the fight you’d had so many times before.  You remembered that time you kicked him right in the face, and where you once found pride at the memory, you found guilt.  You felt guilty for hurting him, after everything he’d done to you-- why?

“B-bucky…” you finally relented not even an hour into the movie, stammering from the force of your shivers.

“Hm?”

“I want… I want the c-clothes.”

He smiled a little, in an insulting way.  “Ask nicely, doll.”

“P-please, Daddy,” you whimpered.

He came back with the clothes in hand, but when you reached out for them, he shook his head and motioned for you to stand up.  You sighed but obeyed, your entire body shaking with violent shivers as your bare feet hit the cool concrete floor.  

He knelt down, holding the lace panties open for you as you shyly stepped into them.  He pulled them up to your hips and let the elastic slap your skin a little as he let go, making you jump.  He did the same with the fuzzy pink pyjama pants, running his hands over soft fabric for just a second as he stood up, helping you into the loose grey sweatshirt.  It was the least feminine thing he’d ever let you wear, noticeably absent in anything pink or fuzzy or girly or adorned with bows.  You only realized as it slipped over your head that it was his, because once you plunged into darkness inside of it, you were overwhelmed with the smell of him.  You wouldn’t have known that you could recognize his smell, but now that you were in it, it was undeniable.

You were almost surprised to see him when your head popped through the neckline, somehow.  It’s not as if you had forgotten he was there in the three seconds you couldn’t see him, just that he looked so different to you now.  He had this stoic, nearly stern look on his face as he helped you get your hands through the sleeves, and the way he caressed your fingers as they emerged from the cotton was so upsettingly tender.

“Daddy…” you mumbled, and he looked back at your face.  

“Is this better?  Are you warmer?”

“My feet…” you realized, looking down at them.  

“I’ll get you some socks, baby,” he nodded, dashing away for a moment.  You felt colder with him gone.  It couldn’t be loneliness, could it?  Even knowing he’d only be gone less than a minute, you were unduly anxious for his return.

He came back and held your feet up by the ankle one at a time as he rolled pink fuzzy socks-- with lace at the ankle, of course-- over your feet.  You wiggled your toes into them, finally feeling like you’d be able to get warm again.

“Let’s finish the movie, okay?” he suggested, rubbing his hands on your arms.  You nodded, allowing him to guide you back to the couch and finding yourself cuddling into his side as he laid an arm over your shoulders.

You barely managed to pay attention as you felt his hand slip lower, resting on your waist.  Then your hip, then your thigh.

Something about the way the lace panties rubbed against your pussy made you feel so oddly sensitive, and even the inside of his sweatshirt was just rough enough to make your nipples react every time you adjusted your position.

You figured he realized your condition pretty quickly, but he didn’t react until a moan, so quiet that you were sure he wouldn’t hear it, passed your lips.

“Everything alright, doll?” he asked, failing to hide the fact that he clearly knew the answer.

You didn’t respond, distracted by his other hand reaching over and stroking your thigh.  You were caged in his embrace now, and your heart raced in a way that was oddly lacking in fear.

“Tell me what you’re feeling,” he demanded, watching your nervous reaction to his intensity.

“Daddy I… I feel tingly,” you murmured, feeling yourself blush.

“Where, baby?”

“D-down there,” you admitted as you forced your eyes shut, too embarrassed to look him in the face as you said it.

“You need Daddy’s help?”

“Please,” you whispered, hating yourself a little for needing him but too desperate to really care.

In one motion he’d already turned the TV off, pulled you onto his lap, and started kissing where the baggy neckline of the sweatshirt exposed your collarbone.

You were rubbing yourself on his thigh and you didn’t even know how to stop.  It felt so good.  It made your skin warm up even faster as you recovered from the cold.  

He slipped his right hand into your pants as the other pulled you closer until your face was buried in his neck.  If there was anything worth appreciating about Bucky, it was how good he was with his fingers.  He knew your body better than you did at this point-- but then again, he had spent so much time exploring it in one week that he was probably competing with you already in terms of practice time.  

“Oh my god,” you moaned as his fingers moved faster and firmer, making your hips jerk forward unexpectedly.  

“It feels good?” he asked in that way that made it obvious he knew the answer.

“Yes, Daddy, it feels so good,” you whimpered.  You’d gotten pretty good by now at appeasing him by performing the role he wanted you to play… so good, in fact, that it was starting to feel very real.

Just as you were grabbing onto his shoulders to hold you steady through your orgasm, he was pulling out his hand and reaching for his own pants instead.

“Need to be inside you,” he explained quickly as he pushed them down and revealed his hard, leaking cock.  “I need to be inside you when I make you come.”

He helped you slide off your pants and underwear but pulled you back into his lap the absolute second they were discarded.  He slid you down onto his cock with a groan, and your face was so hot as you processed how wet you were, how easily he entered you.  Your joy halted, though, when he held your hips down.  You tried to wiggle around for some friction but he was so strong that it was a complete waste.

“Daddy,” you mumbled with confusion, “what are you doing?”

“You’re mine, baby, ‘m gonna use you how I please,” he reminded you darkly, “and right now I want you to stay still and wait.”

“But--” 

He slapped your ass harshly, and you whimpered but decided not to put up much more of a fight.

All the while as you tried to stay still, he was kissing your neck and jaw and cheeks, murmuring praises and leaving the softest bite marks every once in a while.

“Please let me move,” you sobbed against his shoulder, having to fight everything in you not to start grinding on him like your life depended on it.

“I’m not ready yet,” he denied.

“I’ll be good, I promise,” you whimpered.  “I’ll do anything.  I just need to come, and I need to make you come, please…”

With a hand on either side of your hips, he started to move you on top of him, excruciatingly slow.  Your head fell back from how wonderful just that felt.  

“Anything?  You’re gonna spoil me talking like that, doll.”

“Oh god, anything, just move a little faster, please,” you begged.  Of course you knew it was a bad idea, and you figured you were going to regret saying it, but your need was surpassing your sanity at the moment.

He grabbed your face and pulled you down until your lips were almost brushing his, but not quite.  “Keep riding my cock, babygirl.”  You nodded, finally free to pick up the pace to where you wanted it, and you bit your lip as his cock stretched you exactly how you needed it to.

“Daddy, you feel so good inside me,” you moaned.

“I can tell,” he smiled, “you’re making those perfect noises, it’s killing me not to flip you over and fuck you so hard right now.”

You were much more inspired by that mental image than you expected to be.  Those few times he’d gotten really rough with you, it had made you so wet you thought you might get dehydrated.

When he spoke again, his voice was so low that it sounded like a growl, echoing in his chest and making shivers run up your spine.  “I know what I want you to do for me.”

You swallowed and braced yourself as he pulled you even closer, looking right into your eyes.

“Tell me you love me,” he demanded.

You gasped, tears starting to burn at the back of your eyes.  It was the last thing you expected, but it also tracked.  Of course that was what he wanted.  But now that you were trying to form words and nothing would come out, you were kind of wishing he’d just said he wanted anal.

“D-daddy,” you stammered, distracted by him grabbing your hips and moving you even faster on top of him.  He was practically throwing you up and down on top of him, and somehow doing it effortlessly.

“Just say it,” he whispered.

“I love you,” you whispered back.  He smiled and pulled you into a deep kiss, swallowing every moan as you felt yourself barrelling towards your peak.

“Please, I’m about to come-- can I come, Daddy?”

���Almost,” he nodded, “say it again, babygirl.”

“I love you,” you panted, “Daddy, I love you, please--”

“One more time,” he grunted, watching your face. 

“I love you!” you yelped, unable to hold back your orgasm any longer and feeling your walls flutter as sensation washed over you.  Thankfully he wasn’t far behind, only thrusting up into you a few more times before he spilled himself with a groan.

He kissed you long and slow, staying inside you even as his cock began to soften a little.  When he pulled away, he looked up at you with an expression that brimmed with restrained excitement.

“Oh, doll, you have no idea how good it is to finally hear you say that,” he beamed.  “We’re gonna be so happy here together… just me and my best girl, right?”

“Right,” you smiled, but as soon as you blinked a tear was rolling down your cheek.  He wiped it away with his thumb.

“Don’t cry,” he soothed, “everything’s finally the way it’s supposed to be.  You’re finally where you belong, with me.”

You nodded weakly and felt whatever grip you had on your sanity loosening.  Dreams of escape faded as he carried you to bed, holding you in his arms all night long.  You were beginning to embrace the simplicity of just letting life happen to you.  For every time you felt belittled and patronized by his coddling, there was another time that you secretly felt protected and loved.  The truth was, even though you had experienced so much that you couldn’t begin to describe in the past week, you had been relieved of so much of the stress you dealt with before.  As you drifted to sleep, you only hoped that you could manage to hide that truth from yourself just a little bit longer.

~

He was honestly proud of himself for managing to keep his hands off you while you slept all this time.  But it wasn’t too much longer before you woke him up with your stirring.  At first he was just going to give you a quick hug and then get back to sleep, but then as he pulled you closer, he realized you were dreaming.  And when you moaned quietly in your sleep, he realized it wasn’t just any dream.

He smiled to himself as he kissed your neck gently, wondering if you would wake up or not.  It was sort of a win-win either way for him.  He let his hands slide down your body, listening to your breathing as it began to pick up.  Your mouth fell open and it made your sounds even more apparent as he carefully opened your legs.

“Oh baby, you’re drenched,” he murmured to no one in particular, admiring the way your pussy glistened in the low light of the room.  This was one of those times that he really appreciated his choice to make you sleep naked almost every night.

One metal finger sliding through your folds made you shiver.  He wondered if it was from arousal or if the metal felt cold on your warm skin.  Your clit was swollen, and apparently extra sensitive from the way your sleeping body erupted in goosebumps when he drew lazy circles around it.

Suddenly lacking in the patience more foreplay would require, he found himself shoving down his boxers and stroking his cock, preparing to push into you.  If that didn’t wake you up, he’d be slightly concerned… but he wasn’t sure if he’d be concerned enough to stop fucking you.  Thankfully he didn’t have to face that dilemma because the second he was pressing his head into your opening, your eyes flew open.

“Daddy!” you yelped, your voice sounding a little strange as you were torn from your sleep.

He bottomed out and groaned softly, relishing how tightly you wrapped around him.  “You looked so beautiful, baby, I couldn’t help myself.”

You mewled but said nothing, only wrapping your hands around his biceps as he pulled back to thrust into you again.  

“What were you dreaming about?” he asked firmly.

“N-nobody-- I mean, uh, nothing,” you stumbled over your words.

“Oh, you can’t lie to me very well can you?  It’s okay doll, you can tell me, but if it’s someone other than me I’m probably gonna kill him.”

He felt you tense up a little and he knew he’d scared you.  He sort of wanted to do it again, because he loved the way your cunt tightened in that moment, but he decided against it.

“Aw, I’m just joking,” he dismissed, though he wasn’t quite sure if he actually was or not.  “Go ahead, tell me what you were dreaming.”

“Y-you were there,” you explained, “but it wasn’t just you.”

“Is that so?”

“Um, yeah,” you deflected nervously.

“Go ahead, spit it out,” he hissed as he started to thrust into you a bit harder.  

“Well, uh, Steve was there too,” you finally admitted.  A lot of emotions hit him at once when he heard you say that.  Of course jealousy was prominent, but it was different than it would’ve been before... you were home now, and nobody could take you away.  Both of you knew that.  So it might have been a slight blow to the ego, but he didn’t see Steve as a threat.  What he did see was an opportunity to make you squirm, which he was always looking for.

“Was he watching us?” Bucky pressed.

“Uh, sort of…” you trailed off.

He leaned down, putting his lips right against your ear.  “Was he fucking you?”

You whimpered but he could tell you were turned on.  He reached down and roughly rubbed at your clit.  “Be honest, darling.”

“He wasn’t,” you explained, “you were; you said he wasn’t allowed to… but I gave him a-- a blowjob.”

As much as Bucky wasn’t exactly the sharing type, he was intrigued by the mental image of you stuffed with cock at both ends like that.  Even more so he was intrigued by the fact that it apparently turned you on.

“Is that what you want, huh?  One cock isn’t good enough for you?  Who knew you were such a fucking slut.”

“‘M not!” you denied.

“Then why are you soaked from dreaming about choking on somebody else’s cock while I fuck you, huh?”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“And how did you feel when I told Stevie he wasn’t allowed to fuck you?  Even in your sleep you know your Daddy owns you.  That this is my hole and I decide everything that happens to it.”

You moaned so loud that he was afraid he would come right then and there.  You sounded like heaven.  He thrust into you as hard and deep as he could, slamming into your cervix and hitting your clit with his pelvis with each brutal motion.  You cried out and dug your nails into his skin.  

“Fuck, you like it rough don’t you?  Of course you do.  ‘Cause you’re Daddy’s needy little whore.”

“Yes, I’m close!” you yelped.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m not gonna let you come until you beg for it.  Seems like you need to remember that I’m the only one for you.”

“Just you, Daddy, I only want you!” you reassured, but he wasn’t buying it.

“I’d die before I let you get on your knees for another man, do you believe me babygirl?”

“Yes, I know Daddy, I’m yours, there’s nobody else.”

“If you wanna come you better start askin’ really nice,” he growled.

“Please, Daddy, I want you to make me come!  It feels so good, please…”

“Keep going.”

“You’re amazing, your cock feels amazing, I wanna come for you so bad--”

“Fuck, baby, beg me to use you.”

He knew you were flustered by that.

“I-- I don’t know how,” you protested.

“Oh come on, you’re dumb but you’re not that dumb,” he grinned.  “Just how I said it.”

“Use me,” you murmured in defeat, “please.”

“That’s it,” he praised, “just like that-- come for me, doll.”

You were so obedient, tightening around him and nearly screaming with pleasure the moment he commanded you to.  He wasn’t far behind, succumbing to the perfection of your wet heat and filling it with his climax.

“Fuck!” he groaned when he hit the peak of it, trying somehow to focus entirely on both the way you felt and the way you sounded.

Normally he cleaned you up after this but right now he wanted his come to leak out of you all night, make your thighs and the sheets sticky.  Apparently you had some sort of implant or something which kept you safe… he was trying not to count the days until it wore off.  He figured you would totally lose it if he told you that he wanted to get you pregnant, and yet, he was surprised that you hadn’t asked him about getting your implant replaced.

~

You knew that life was unpredictable and all that, but if never in a million years would you have expected for the Winter Soldier to be painting your nails.  But there he was, focused intently on each stroke of the tiny brush as he held your hand still.

“This’ll help you stop chewing your nails,” he gave as his excuse.  It was almost believable, except that he did your toes too.  Amazingly enough, you’d never chewed on those.

They were actually sort of pretty, if you were being honest.  You admired them a little, as they dried.  It wasn’t a perfect paint job by any means, but much better than you expected from Bucky and honestly, a bit better than you would’ve done it in all likelihood.  The baby pink color was a little nauseating as always, but it admittedly did look nice with your skin tone. 

“What do you say?” he prompted.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you smiled.  “It looks nice.”

“You’re welcome, angel.  I think so too.  We’ll take ‘em for a spin when they’re dry.”

You swallowed.  You had a pretty good idea of what that would entail.

Next was your hair.  Pigtails, the way he always did it.  You never quite understood what he liked so much about turning you into a girlier, more childish version of yourself, but you were finally embracing the things that you liked about being in this role.  He certainly pampered you, which was hard to complain about.  In your whole time here (you struggled to keep track but it must have been over a month now) you'd never cooked once.

After lunch he had you on your knees, looking up at him while you started to unzip his fly.  You found yourself salivating a little as you pulled his half-hard cock out of his boxers.

“Baby, your hands are so small…” he noticed reverently.  “Barely fit around it.”

“It’s not that they’re small, it’s that you’re so big,” you replied, more honest than you were used to being with him.

“You flatter me,” he grinned.  “Do it some more.”

You felt put on the spot, but feared disappointing him.  “Daddy, your cock is… so big,” you improvised, still stroking him as he got harder for you, “I can’t believe it fits inside me.”

“Hmm, it almost doesn’t,” he recalled.

“But it feels so good when-- when I get used to you and, um, your cock… stretches me…”

He groaned a little, and you moved your hand faster.

“Fills me up so good, Daddy,” you moaned, getting more into it than you had intended to.  “Your cock feels so fucking good, it’s like it’s made for me--”

He cut you off suddenly by pushing you back onto the mattress, hovering over you as a muscular hand wrapped around your throat.

“Got quite the mouth on ya, doll,” he growled.  “Do I need to wash it out with soap?” 

You shook your head; he wasn’t choking you hard enough to stop you from speaking entirely if you had really wanted to, but you were too stunned to say much.  His attitude could flip on a dime like this, and you could never see it coming.  The fear made your heart race; the anticipation made your thighs clench together.  

He smiled as he pulled back, letting go of your neck and reaching for his cock instead.  “I can tell you’re worked up.  Go ahead, touch yourself.”

You hesitated because typically that would be an infraction, but he nodded for you to continue as you nervously reached between your legs.   

You gasped softly when you touched your clit: it was swollen, and especially sensitive.  You hadn't realized how turned on you really were.  Slowly, you started to rub circles around it as your hips rocked with your movements.

"Does it feel good?" he asked, and when you looked up at him, he was stroking himself as well.  You nodded quickly.  "'M gonna come on that pretty face, little one.  Beg me for it."

"Daddy…" you murmured in shock, "I… want you to come on my face, please.  Wanna be covered in it."

"You're not a good liar," he grinned.  "I know you really want me to fuck you."

He wasn't wrong, so you nodded again and watched his hand speed up as it moved up and down his length.

"You poor thing," he cooed.  "I fuck you daily and you're so disappointed to be going without, to just be getting my come on your face like the dirty little whore you are."

His words stung but your hand was moving faster between your legs.

"You're getting close, aren't you?  Wait until I'm ready," he ordered.  You swallowed dryly but slowed down a little to buy yourself some time.  

He grunted a bit and you really hoped it was signalling an orgasm because you felt yours building unstoppably.  You didn't even think you could pull your hand away from yourself if he asked you to, you needed to come so bad.

"Fuck, open your mouth baby-- stick your tongue out," he commanded quickly, stepping forward until his cock was casting a shadow over your face.  "Oh god, just like that… ready baby?"

You nodded one more time and heard yourself panting loudly through your open mouth, your moans only interrupted by a wince as his come spurted forward and painted your face and exposed tongue in hot stripes.  Your orgasm hit just in time, embarrassingly spurred on by the degrading position you were in.  

When he was done-- which seemed to take forever because he came so much-- he started to catch his breath before slipping his softening cock onto your come-coated tongue and into your waiting mouth.

"Mm, you look so good like this," he praised, "I'm not sure I wanna let you wipe it off."

A flesh thumb moved down to your cheek and rubbed a stray drop of spend into your skin.  

"My perfect little cum dumpster, huh?" he said proudly, as if it was an award or achievement or something, and not a sick, insulting term.

Weird thing was, you felt proud of yourself, too.

~

He’d been working outside all day, chopping firewood in preparation for the upcoming winter.  Sure, the cabin had heating, but he had a lot of ideas about cuddling in front of the fire, or maybe making love beside it.  

Regardless, even super soldiers tire and must rest after working.  He decided to head inside and heat up something warm to stave off the cold.  You were still sleeping last he’d checked, exhausted from a long night-- yes, that kind of long night.  He almost felt guilty for putting your body through so much…  you were so delicate, sometimes he forgot you couldn’t always handle what he could.  However, you were stronger than you realized, and such a perfectly obedient little girl; he smiled at the memory of your skin under his fingertips, your fragile form writhing and whimpering beneath him as he’d taken you for hours.  As he daydreamed and began to enter the kitchen, he was torn from his imagination by a sound from your room.  At first he wondered if he’d misheard it, but when he heard you cry out again, he assumed you were hurt and nearly tripped over himself to run to you.  His heart was racing and he almost considered reaching for his sidearm-- there was no way someone could’ve broken in and tried to hurt you, right?

But as he flung open the door, instead he found you alone with your hand between your legs.  You jumped up when you saw him, but it was too late.

“The fuck are you doing?!” he exclaimed, climbing onto the bed and trapping you before you could crawl backwards away from him.

“I-- I was just--”

He cut you off with a quick slap to the face.  Not to hurt you, just to get you to focus on him.

“You know you can’t touch yourself without my permission.  Did you forget?”

“No…” you murmured ashamedly.

“If you knew it was wrong, why did you do it?”

“I… I just missed you…”

“Why didn’t you call me for help?  I can’t take care of you if you don’t ask.”

“I knew you were busy, I didn’t want to bother you--”

“Show me what you did,” he growled, watching you sheepishly spread your legs again to reveal your wet pussy and swollen clit.  “Oh doll, you really did a number on yourself.  Did you come without me?”

You looked away.

“Don’t bother lying.  Did you make yourself come with your fingers?”

“Yes…” 

You were hiding something.  He almost didn’t want to know the entire truth because it was breaking his heart to know you’d disobeyed so severely, but he had to know what happened if he was going to discipline you properly.

“Was it more than once?”

You shook your head and his blood went cold upon the realization that you were hiding something worse.

“What were you thinking about?” he asked you slowly.  He could hear your breathing quickened and he was sure he might die if you said what he was afraid of.  “Answer me.”

“I was thinking about… being fucked…”

“By who?” he asked.  You opened your mouth instantly but he cut you off.  “Don’t lie.”

You spoke but it was so weak that it wasn’t even a whisper.  “What was that?” he pressed.

“Sam,” you finally relented, “it was Sam.”

He was livid, but at least it wasn’t Steve.  

“Go stand beside the bed and kneel,” he commanded firmly.  You nodded weakly and slithered out from under him to do as he asked.  

He took a deep, slow breath hoping to calm himself a little.  He had heard that you shouldn’t punish little girls when you’re angry.  But he needed to nip this in the bud.

He got off the bed and approached you after a moment, running a finger under your chin and guiding you to look up at him.

“You understand you’ve been very naughty, don’t you?” he asked with a cold fury tinting his voice.

“Yes, Daddy,” you answered.  Clearly you were trying to be extra good and dutiful, hoping that strict adherence to the rules from here on out could save you some pain.  You weren’t wrong, but he wished that you would’ve had that attitude a little sooner.

“And if I don’t teach you a lesson, that would be unfair to both of us.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and opened his belt and fly, pulling out his cock.  He sensed that you were compelled to lean forward and take it in your mouth, but you stayed still; you knew he would tell you exactly what he wanted you to do.

As he stroked his cock to full hardness, he glared at you so intensely that you couldn’t keep his gaze, looking up briefly but always glancing back down to the floor shamefully.  

“I-I’m sorry, Da-” you began weakly.

“You’ll speak when spoken to,” he interjected harshly.  Finally, he held your jaw with one hand, the other holding his cock forward as he plunged it between your lips.  He moaned a little when you swirled your tongue over it, doing your best to coat every inch of it in wetness.

As quickly as he had pushed in, he pulled out again.  He slapped his cock on your face, smearing your own spit on your cheek.  He rubbed his tip over your lips in a circle, but when you opened up your mouth for him, instead he leaned forward and spit into your open mouth.

“Swallow it,” he demanded through his teeth, and you did though it made you shudder with disgust.

Only then did he shove his cock in again, and with brutal force as well.  He used fistfuls of your hair to pull your face up and down on his cock, ignoring your whimpers of pain.

The room was filled with the sounds of your choking and coughing, until those extended periods of silence when his cock was shoved all the way into your throat and you couldn’t even get enough air for that.  It was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard in his life.

When he pulled you off of him to look at your face, he grinned proudly.  “Doll, you look like a fuckin’ mess.”  And it was true; spit and pre-cum dribbling down your chin and onto the floor, red nose and puffy eyes from crying… truly a sight to behold.

He gave you one more slap for good measure, the fist in your hair preventing your head from spinning to the side.  

“Gonna fuckin’ come in your throat.  You’d better swallow it all, bitch.”

He could feel your whole body jerk when he said it, and it only served to make your throat even tighter around him.  

“Fuck,” he groaned, “just like that, choke on me, fuck, oh god, fuck--”

He came with a stuttered moan and the sounds of protest you tried to make were lost as cum filled your throat and mouth.  

He smiled when you swallowed quickly, determined to obey.  He wasn’t even done coming yet and you were swallowing it.  Probably a good strategy; he had been pent up for a while now and he probably could’ve filled your tiny mouth until it was leaking.

When he was sure every drop of come had been spilled and swallowed, he pulled out and gave you some reprieve.  You gasped for air loudly, coughing a few times but mostly maintaining your composure like the good little slut you were.

He watched you shift your hip uncomfortably and realized you must be quite agitated yourself.

“If you want something from me, just ask,” he encouraged.  “That’s the whole point of this, isn’t it?”

“Please fuck me,” you whimpered.

He wagged his finger disapprovingly.  “I don’t know if you deserve it.”

“Please!” you yelped, and he yanked you off the floor and into his lap quickly.

“You get so dumb when you need me,” he growled into your ear.  “So desperate that you don’t know how to think about anything else but cock.  Isn’t that right?”

You nodded with a gasp.

“You’re my dumb little baby, aren’t you?  Say it," he hissed in demand.

“I’m your dumb little baby,” you repeated breathlessly.

“Get on your hands and knees and get that ass up.”

You obeyed quickly, almost eagerly, and he grinned at your obedience.  You really needed it bad, and he was helpless but to oblige you.  As soon as he was on his knees behind you and lining up with your sopping entrance, he was shoving his cock into you all at once.

You yelped at the brutality of the intrusion; he stayed still for a moment, relishing the feeling of your warmth, before pulling back out again.

“Wh-?” you began to protest in confusion, but he was a step ahead of you.

“That was just to get my cock wet, baby.”

One metal finger slipped into your puckered hole and you yelped.  “D-daddy, not there!”

“Shhh, just relax,” he soothed.

“It’s gonna hurt,” you whined.

“That’s sort of the idea,” he explained.  “I know what you can handle, doll.”

“And I can handle this?”

“I never said that.”

And with only one more finger and a few more minutes of hasty preparation, he was pushing his cock into your tighter hole.

“Shh,” he soothed when he felt you clench around him, but still pushing forward, indifferent to your hiss of pain.  

“It hurts!” you sobbed.

“I know baby, you’re just gonna have to take it.  This wouldn’t be happening if you had just asked me to help you.”

You pouted and it was equal parts adorable and pathetic.  “I’m sorry!”

“I’ll tell you when it’s time to apologize.  Right now you just need to be quiet.  Don’t you wanna be a good little girl?”

“Y-yes.”

He started to move his cock inside you and you shivered under him.  

“Please come,” you begged weakly after a few more minutes of thrusting.

“You wanna get it over with?  Don’t like it?”

You nodded and he did feel bad for you, but he knew it was what you needed.

“I’ll come when I’m ready, doll.  Just take Daddy’s cock, ‘s all you’re good for anyways, right angel?”

You nodded and bit back another sob, blissfully unaware of his adoring gaze; you looked so cute crying for his cock.  He liked being strong enough to hurt you almost as much as he liked being strong enough to protect you.

“My perfect little crybaby,” he cooed.  “Don’t whine too much or I’ll have to stuff that filthy mouth with a paci, alright?”

He watched you bite your lip and try to stay calm.  Out of pity, he moved a little slower than he wanted to, giving you some more time to adjust.  Eventually he felt you relaxing, though you still yelped a little when he pushed in all the way.  It was hard to choose between watching your face or watching his cock stretch open your hole.

“God, you’re takin’ me so well,” he praised.  “Who knew you were such a whore, huh?”

Before you could deny it, he reached down and swiped his fingers through your folds quickly, groaning when he felt how swollen and wet they were.  “Fuck, baby, you’re drenched.  You like getting fucked up the ass; such a dirty little slut.”

“Just for you, Daddy,” you informed him with a weak voice.  He was still angry with you, of course, but he was so proud of you, too.  He could remember all those times you’d tried to run or fight, now you were just laying there and taking it like a champ-- no restraints, no threats, just the desire to be good for him.  You were everything he’d ever dreamed you could be and more.

The thought spurred his orgasm ahead sooner than he expected, but he still wanted to hold back.  You needed more to learn your lesson, and he wanted to savor this feeling as long as possible.

His fingers had been digging into the supple flesh of your hips and ass, hard enough to bruise, but you felt too warm and too soft, so he gripped the sheets instead in his attempts to stave off his rupture.

But it wasn’t much longer until the tightness of you, the heat of you, the sweetness of your sobs all became too perfect to ignore.  His cock was aching for release, and if he denied himself much more, he figured his balls would never relax from their tightened state.

“I think you’re ready to apologize now,” he groaned.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy,” you sobbed.  “I swear, I’ll never touch myself without your permission again-- and I’ll never think about anybody but you!  I only want you, I swear!”

“You sure, baby?  You don’t think Sam would treat you better?” he mocked.  Sam definitely would be nicer to you, but there was no way he could treat you better than Bucky did.  Maybe you wanted a guy who was sweeter, more traditional, but this was what you needed and only your Daddy could give that to you.

“I’m sure!  I only want you, please!  Please, please come.”

“Is that what you want, angel?  Want me to come in your tight little ass?”

“Please,” you whimpered.

“Please…?”

“Please, Daddy.”

And he came, though it was a little more physically taxing since it was the second of the night.  You whimpered a little but he could tell you were relieved it was over.

You didn’t put up any fight at bath time that night, just curled into his arms and let him wash you as you whispered more apologies.  

“Shh, it’s alright,” he soothed as he washed your hair, whispering right against your ear before giving it a little kiss.  “You did good, baby.  You made a mistake but you’re gonna learn from it and we’re gonna be better than ever.  You took your punishment so well, darling, you should be proud.”

~

Today you'd woken up to an empty house, with a note on the kitchen table:

Gone for groceries, I'll be back in the afternoon.  When I get home, greet me at the door wearing what I've laid out for you in your closet.

You figured it wasn't going to be something conservative by any means, but you were still taken aback by finding a tail, collar, and cat-ear headband.  The collar was pink leather with a tiny bell and a little heart-shaped steel tag with your name on it.  The realization that he had this custom-made sent a shiver down your back.  On the back of the tag was another engraving:

IF LOST RETURN TO BUCKY BARNES

You were a little concerned about wearing only a collar, ears and tail… especially when you realized how the tail was intended to be worn.

Still, you had become thoroughly obedient, and you trusted that this would make him happy which was all you could hope for.  You fought past your hesitation and changed out of your pajamas into the outfit (if it could even be called that when it contained no actual clothing).

He had the biggest grin on his face when he opened the door to find you on your knees just outside the entryway.

“Oh look at you, kitten,” he beamed.

Being naked on the floor was cold and awkward.  You crossed your arms to cover your chest, frowning as you tried to avoid his penetrating gaze.  “This is stupid.  I feel stupid.”

“You are stupid," he smiled.  "But you look great!  Now behave or you’ll have to eat out of a bowl on the floor until you’ve learned to love being Daddy’s pet.”

Your eyes went wide.

“You’re gonna behave, right?”

“Y-yes, Daddy.”

He smiled and curled his finger, motioning for you to come closer.  You awkwardly crawled towards him on your hands and knees, biting your lip absent-mindedly.  When you were on the floor in front of his legs, he knelt down a bit and grabbed a handful of your ass.  It made the plug inside you shift and you whimpered.

“Mm, this tail looks lovely on you,” he praised.  “And the ears… you’re a natural.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” you shyly accepted the compliment.

"I bet you got wet putting this on, huh?" he presumed.  You nodded as he moved to rub two fingers through your folds, proving himself right.

When he leaned back and pulled his cock from his jeans, you were surprised at how hard it already was.  Clearly the kitten thing was working for him.

"Go ahead kitty, I know you want a taste," he encouraged.

You leaned forward and gave, fittingly, small kitten licks to the tip of his cock and he groaned.  “Just like that, fuck.”

You hummed when you tasted his pre-cum on your tongue.  You’d gotten so accustomed to it that you actually enjoyed the flavor now.

Hesitantly, you wrapped your lips around the head and suckled on it gently.  Apparently, he didn’t care much for the slow-but-steady method; he slipped two fingers under your collar and used it to pull you down further until you choked.  

He continued to guide you forward and back, moaning every time your throat accepted the leaking head of his cock.

“You don’t want me to come in your mouth, do you?” he asked with a grunt.

You shook your head.  

He grinned knowingly, pushing you back until your mouth was empty and free to respond.  “Where do you want it?” 

“In my pussy.”

“Full sentences only, please.”

“I want you to come in my pussy, Daddy, please.”

“Hmm, you did ask very nicely,” he smiled.  “But I have something else to do first.  Go get on the couch, kitten, hands and knees.”

You almost stood up but realized he wanted you to crawl again.  As soon as you’d done it, he was behind you, humming contentedly as he ran his rough hands over your skin.  You mewled when he started to kiss along your back, down your ass and between your thighs until he was licking long stripes through your folds.  Both of you moaned when he sucked your clit into his mouth, even allowing it to graze against his teeth which nearly hurt but made you gush with wetness anyways.

"Please-- I'm close, Daddy, can I come?" you whimpered.

"Go ahead," he mumbled before returning to his work, knowing exactly how to use his tongue to take you apart in mere minutes.  Your hands grabbed desperately at the back of the couch for stability as your legs began to quiver with the force of your orgasm.  You yelped and bit down on your lip as it crashed over you; sometimes when he ate you out, he wouldn't stop after you'd came and keep going until you were begging for mercy, but he was apparently feeling generous today and stopped once you'd finished.

That, of course, did not mean he was finished with you.

He pushed his jeans down to his thighs and laid back onto the mattress, cock so hard that it was pressing into his abs.

“Come on kitten, ride me,” he grinned, motioning for you to climb on top of him.  The moment you did he was rubbing his cock against you, pushing it upwards for you to sink down onto it.  You moaned as it stretched you open, and when your hips met his, the tip of it brushed against the deepest places inside you.  You yelped and tried to move back up but he suddenly grabbed your legs and held you down.

“Nuh-uh, kitten, no running away.  You’re gonna take all of me.”

“It’s too deep,” you protested weakly, even though you felt your walls throbbing with pleasure.

“Not at all, angel; you’re made for me, so you fit me perfectly,” he explained.  “If I let you go, you’re gonna ride me properly, take my whole cock, right?”

You nodded and he eased up his grip.  You felt your legs shaking as little as you pushed yourself up only to drop back down, wincing as he filled you so completely once again.  You repeated the movement over and over, picking up pace and moaning every time.  You could feel his cock moving the plug inside your ass, and each bounce on top of him made your collar jingle a little.

You did your best to keep up the pace, but to lift yourself required use of a muscle that you clearly hadn't been getting much exercise for; it wasn't more than a few minutes before you were faltering, your moans of pleasure accented with the struggling groans of exhaustion.

"Oh kitty, are you too weak?  Too wimpy and small to ride my cock?  Baby… that's pathetic," he moped.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," you pouted.  "I'm just tired…"

"Just a little longer, kitten, just ride my cock a little more then I'll help you out, okay?  I know you can do it.  I know you can be a good girl."

You hoped he was right.  You nodded weakly as he looked at you expectantly, before slowly beginning to move again in spite of your sore thighs.

Soon, as he'd promised, he pulled you down and wrapped his arms around you, thrusting up into you.  Your moans echoed against his skin when your face was shoved into the crook of his neck.  When his cock slammed into your most sensitive spot, you bit him there as a way to stifle yourself and he slapped your ass.

“Only bad kittens bite, doll.  I thought you were going to be a good kitten for me?”

“Feels so good,” you tried to explain though it came out slurred, “please don’t stop.”

“I’m not gonna stop, baby.  Not gonna stop until that pussy is full of my come.  That what you want?”

“Yes,” you pleaded, “oh god, yes, please…”

He moaned loudly as his thrusts lost all rhythm, his cock moving so fast inside you that the sensation became one hot blur against your walls.  Finally, as he groaned and gripped you tight enough to bruise, he spilled inside you. 

As he let out a long breath and his body relaxed under you, he smiled softly.  "You really are perfect, pet."

"C-can I take off the ears now?  And the tail?"

"Hmm, not yet," he grinned, "we need to take a few pictures of you like this first."

~

He was working in the kitchen when he heard your footsteps approaching.

"Don't come in here!" he ordered you.  "Wait for me at the dining table."

"Why, Daddy?" he heard you respond from the hall.  He smiled just to hear your sweet voice.

"It's a surprise, babydoll," he explained.  "It's almost ready-- just wait, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy," you answered dutifully, your footsteps moving to the dining area as he'd requested.

Stepping back and admiring his work, he lifted it and turned out the door to deliver your surprise: a cake, with pink frosting and one pink candle.

Your eyes lit up when you saw him holding the cake stand, being careful not to tilt it or get the flame of the candle near his long hair.

He smiled and set it in front of you, looking to your face for a reaction.  Suddenly he felt self-conscious about it, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.   "Um, I made it myself.  Sorry if the decorating isn't that nice…"

"It's beautiful, Daddy, and I bet it'll taste great, too," you beamed.  "What's the occasion?"

"It's our anniversary," he replied, his voice suddenly low and dark.

He saw recognition cross your face, though you looked confused as well.  The meds he'd given you throughout the year had disrupted your memories, and probably distorted your perception of the passage of time as well, but it was all necessary to get you compliant.  He hoped reminding you of that somewhat violent first day wouldn't set back any of your progress.

"I've… been here a year?" you asked weakly.

"We've been here a year," he corrected, sitting down beside you and wrapping an arm around you, "but that's not what we're celebrating."

The hand on your shoulder slipped down to the underside of your arm, stroking it slowly.

"We're celebrating that a medication somebody gave you a long time ago, before we were together, is finally worn off," he explained slowly, a grin creeping across his face. "We're celebrating that the next time I come inside you, I'm gonna get you pregnant."

He didn't fuck you for three days after that, loving the way you were clearly on edge as you waited for him to make good on his promise.  And he didn't blame you for being nervous about it, even if you seemed to understand that any protest from you would fall on deaf ears.

So, he was quite taken aback when you came onto him one night, bedtime cuddling quickly turning into something more as you rubbed your ass against his crotch.  He hadn't even realized that you would want it all on your own.

God, you were so fucking perfect he couldn't stand it.

"What are you doing, angel?" he asked you with a growl as he grabbed your hips and forced them to still.

"Nothing, Daddy," you answered coyly.  He grinned and nipped at your earlobe.

"Are you horny, babygirl?  Because you're acting like a whore."

You nodded and gasped, shivering under his touch.

"Want Daddy's cock inside you?" he pressed, voice getting darker.

"Yes, please!" you begged.

He sat up and flipped you onto your back, caging you in with his arms as he hovered above you.

“You wanna have my baby?” he asked in a husky whisper.

“Yes,” you nodded your head quickly.

“Want me to knock you up, doll?  Right now?”

“Please,” you whimpered.

He leaned down, almost close enough to kiss you, as his gaze wandered over your face  “I don’t want it to be like the other times.  None of the crazy shit, nothing rough.  If I’m gonna get you pregnant--”

“Whatever you want,” you pleaded.

He kissed you suddenly, deep and slow.  “I love you,” he told you quickly as he pulled back, breathless but confident.  

“I love you too,” you answered without even questioning it.

He was gentle, and thorough, and patient.  It was love-making in a way that was out of character for him.  He lifted your legs to wrap around his hips, pushing into you as deep as he could but with a contemplative slowness; he cradled your face in his hands and kissed all over it as he praised you in whispers.

My pretty girl, my perfect little girl, gonna fill you up, gonna make you mine.

You were only moans and sobs, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.  

The first time you came was unexpected, building slowly but crashing into you all at once, judging by the way you went from softly whimpering to nearly screaming in seconds.  The second was quieter, more subtle, but he could tell by the way your walls tightened around him.  The third left you in tears, beyond overstimulated and broken down into a babbling mess.

“Please,” you cried, “please I need you to come-- come inside me.”

He struggled to resist that offer, but he didn't want it to be over too quickly.

“Soon,” he promised, “I’m close.  You feel so good.”

You wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him close for a kiss but stopping as his mouth brushed against yours.

“Please, Bucky… please come…” you whispered.

He moaned, his thrusts getting a little more erratic.

“Need it so bad,” you whimpered, “need you to put your baby in me--”

“Fuck,” he hissed, “‘m gonna, promise.”

“Now,” you demanded through your teeth, “I need it now.”

“Not until you come one more time,” he responded.  You whined and he knew you were questioning whether it was possible.  “I know you can, just gimme one more.”

His angle shifted and he stayed deep within you, grinding his hips on yours just the right way to rub your clit with his pubic bone.  Your back arched but he held you close, barraging you with the sensation and pressing his forehead to yours.

Your hands gripped his shoulders for dear life, as if you were afraid to fall.  He smiled and kissed your neck, feeling your walls flutter around him once again.

“That’s it,” he praised, “I know you’re close.  Just let go.  I’ve got you.”

Tears streamed down your face as it tore through you, hitting you so hard that instead of moans it was just silence.  He watched your face intently, breathing through his teeth as he summoned all his willpower to hold on just a little longer.  

"Daddy!" you yelped, and he couldn't take any more: with a high-pitched, stuttered moan, he felt his cock flexed as he came harder than maybe he ever had before.  Knowing that you were fertile made it all so much more intense.  Normally, his orgasm just meant the end of sex-- maybe just for a few minutes on a good day.  But now?  Now it was the beginning of something.  His perfect little angel was going to finally fulfill her final purpose and give him a baby.  He'd waited so long, dreamed of it every day for years, and finally it was going to happen.  

He refused to pull out or let you move until he was sure it would take; he killed the time by kissing every part of your face and neck that he could reach.

He hadn't even gotten you pregnant yet, technically, and he already couldn't wait for more children.  He'd always wanted to have a big family, but he gave up on that dream years ago; meeting you had brought it all back, and made him realize that all this time he'd just been waiting for the perfect wife to start it with.

You were well worth the wait.

#dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes non con #bucky barnes x y/n #dark!bucky smut #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x y/n #dark!sebastian stan x reader

[ironwoman359]

This is probably not the best place to ask, but you’re also a Christian woman too. I was wondering what you thought about what the Bible says about women and how we must submit to husbands and some other stuff that has me (a potential ace) Christain woman kind of terrified. I would go to my church but social anxiety and my church is pretty conservative. I don’t want to think that we’re just second rate citizens with this. Um…that’s all. You don’t have to answer. Love your Tumblr. It’s one of the main ones I look at. Thanks for countless enjoyment!

— — —

(I’m responding on the submission and not the ask because the ask refused to post properly, I think it was too long for Tumblr’s fancy)

So I know you just asked for my thoughts and not a biblical interpretation lesson, but I didn’t spend 3 months writing an exegesis in college for me to never use those skills again, so buckle up for something of a long answer! (literally, this is almost 3 thousand words, so....sorry about that) *rubs hands together* The thing we need to take into consideration when reading the bible is Interpretation; any truly honest biblical scholar would tell you it is a mistake to take every word in the bible at its literal face value, ESPECIALLY since most of us are reading translations of scripture, not the original ancient hebrew/greek/aramaic/whatever else. So when interpreting scripture, we must consider these things:

Author (Who wrote it?)

Audience (Who was it written for?)

Context (What is written around it?)

So the verses you’re referencing are Ephesians 5:22-23, and in the NIV, they read as follows:

22 Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands as you do to the Lord. 23 For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. 24 Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything.

Isolated from author, audience, and context, they sound pretty sexist, don’t they? And male authority figures have used these verses as justification for the oppression of women for centuries, just as white men used the passage only a few verses away, Ephesians 6:5, as justification for the oppression and ownership of black people (Slaves, obey your earthly masters with respect and fear, and with sincerity of heart, just as you would obey Christ). So let’s look at each of the points above in regards to Ephesians 5 and 6. First, who wrote it? Sometimes that can be a tricky question to answer, but in this case, it’s actually very easy (though there is still a bit of fuzziness/debate). Traditionally, Ephesians is one of the Apostle Paul’s letters to the early church. Specifically, to the body of believers in Ephesus, a Greek city that was a part of the Roman Empire at the time. According to two different study bibles I have, the letter of Ephesians was not addressing any particular problem that the church in Ephesus had (as was often the case with Paul’s letters), but was meant as an encouragement of faith and to increase his readers’ understanding of what it meant to be a follower of Christ. So now what about the Context? Why are the verses at the end of chapter 5 and beginning of chapter 6 so damning to our modern sensibilities? To answer that, we must look at the passages both in context to the verses around them, and in historical and cultural context (which is where 1 & 2 come into play again). Going back to the beginning of chapter 4, which is subtitled “Unity in the Body of Christ” (and remember, these subtitles and groupings were come up with LONG after they were written; we grouped sections together in a way we thought was most logical, which honestly for a book as short as Ephesians I would argue is barely even necessary), we can see that the letter from chapter 4 onward is about living a Holy and Godly life. Chapter 4 urges us to be “completely humble and gentle, be patient, bearing with one another in love” and warns us against living “as the Gentiles* do, in the futility of their thinking.” *Gentiles in this case meaning not neccesarily all non-Jews, but non-believers. AKA, we should live like Jesus lived, WWJD and all that jazz. If the Holy Spirit is in our hearts and our relationship with God is at the forefront of our lives, then that should show clearly in our actions. The very first verse of chapter 5 reads “Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.” Chapters 5 and 6 especially are meant to act as a sort of guide for how a follower of Christ should act. There’s some stuff about obscenity, greed, sexual impurity, 5:15 sums it up pretty well basically, “Be very careful, then, how you live- not as unwise but as wise,” and then we reach the all important verse. Ephesians 5:21, “Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.” That’s a full sentence, just that there. Submit to one another. The following three sections are all subsections of this point: one for Wives submitting to Husbands, one for Children submitting to Parents, and one for Slaves submitting to Masters. But when looking at all of these, bad shepherds (ie, racist, sexist assholes) like to ignore that first bit, submit to one another, just as they like to ignore 5:28, which says “husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself;” or they ignore 6:4 which says “Fathers, do not exasperate your children; instead, bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord;” and they ignore 6:9, “Masters, treat your slaves in the same way. Do not threaten them, since you know that he who is both their Master and yours is in heaven, and there is no favoritism with him.” I do highly encourage you to read chapters 4, 5, and 6 in full, or at least start at 4:17, which is where Paul starts talking about “Living as Children of Light,” because it makes the intent of these apparently damning verses much more clear. Paul is stating that as Christians, we should treat everyone around us with honor and respect. According to one of my study bibles, the grammar of the original Greek suggests that the “submission” involved in all three sections is intended to be mutual submission, and is to come from a filling of the Holy Spirit. However, to be quite frank, Paul still Lived In A Society. A highly structured, patriarchal society, in which all members of a household (women, children, slaves) were expected to submit to the patriarchal head of that household. Male children until they reached adulthood, Slaves until they were freed (remember that, while by no means a purely morally good thing, the system of Roman Slavery was VASTLY DIFFERENT from the Atlantic Slave Trade that men later used this passage to justify existing), and women, unfortunately, for their whole lives. In another one of his letters, what is now the book of Galatians, Paul says in chapter 3 verse 27-29 that “You are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise.” This would have been radical at the time. Paul is promising all people of all genders and classes that, in the eyes of God, they are Equal, One, and all “sons,” meaning that they all have a right to the Inheritance of the Father (remember, at this time and in this culture women did not get any inheritance, and younger sons got significantly less than the firstborn. Paul assures the believers that they ALL are equal receivers of the Promises of God). But this equality that Paul speaks of was, in his eyes, a spiritual equality. He was not particularly concerned with overthrowing the earthly patriarchal society that subjugated women and lower classes, but rather instructed all members of that society who also were Believers to submit equally to one another out of love and respect, for they were all Equal in God’s eyes and would be Equal in heaven. This is why he both tells women to submit to and obey their husbands, but also husbands to love, cherish, and care for their wives. Children, obey your parents, but Fathers, don’t be dicks to your kids. Slaves should obey their masters (slavery was much more like a job that you weren’t allowed to quit until your boss said so) but Masters shouldn’t abuse their slaves. There are Societal Authorities, and Paul is telling his readers “look you can’t just go around not respecting those Authorities, but also hey, if you’re the Authority? That’s not a free pass to be an asshole.” As one of my study bibles puts it, “Paul counseled all believers to submit to one another by choice…this kind of mutual submission preserves order and harmony in the family while it increases love and respect among family members.” Paul is basically saying “it’s better for everyone if we all get along, and remember that Christ had a servant’s heart, and intentionally lowered himself for us, so we should do the same for each other.” And while a patriarchal class system is still super sucky for like 80% of the people involved, at least it’s a whole lot more bearable if everyone involved is being a Nice, Good Member of that Society. You mentioned being worried about being treated like a “second rate citizen.” The fact of the matter is that when this was written, women were second rate citizens; that is the context in which Paul is writing. And while I firmly believe that that was wrong, in every sense of the word, Paul wasn’t especially concerned about challenging that aspect of society. Priority one was “Spread the Gospel” and Priority two was “Don’t Get Killed while Spreading the Gospel.” Speaking of Paul, let’s talk a little more about Saul of Tarsus, shall we? In all literary analysis, it is important to examine the author’s beliefs and what biases may have made their way into the work. And while we believe the bible to be a Holy Book, it can and should be subject to the same rules of literary analysis as non-religious texts. First, you must ask yourself, what do you believe about the bible? There are four general ways of looking at it (which are called Theories of Inspiration).

The bible is the Divine Word of God, dictated word for word across centuries directly to its human authors by God Himself.

The bible is the Divine Word of God, written across centuries by men Inspired by the Holy Spirit. While they are writing in their own words, this Inspiration means that the bible is Wholly Perfect with no errors.

The bible is the Divine Word of God, written across centuries by men Inspired by the Holy Spirit. However, because they are imperfect, fallible men, there is a possibility of errors in the text, both in the account of events that happened and in the teaching therein.

The bible is a collection of accounts written by men, with no Divine Intervention from God. It is not Holy, God’s Word, or Infallible.

I was raised to believe theory 2, but now I personally believe theory 3. And since I’m the author of this analysis, it is through the lens and bias of theory 3 that I now present my next point: Paul was sexist. I don’t think he was maliciously so (see again, Galatians 3, and the statement in Ephesians 5 that men should honor, cherish, and care for their wives), but he was a product of his time who had ingrained ideas about women and their place in society. This does not A) mean he was right about how women should act OR B) mean that we should toss out everything he had to say, about women or otherwise, because he was Problematic. Most biblical authors were, in fact, Problematic. Either by our modern standards, due to the time in which they lived, OR by the standards of their own time, because God liked to use Imperfect People (we’re all imperfect, but He liked particularly imperfect people) in His plans. David was an adulterer and murderer. Paul happily sent dozens of Christians to their deaths. Peter was hotheaded and super prejudiced against Gentiles and Samaritans. And most of them were, in one way or another, sexist, racist, and homophobic. These biases then found their way, intentionally or not, into their writings, and then other racist, sexist, homophobic men used those writings to justify systemic oppression of anyone who was not like them. Oppression that is not Christlike. So where does that leave us, in our 21st century application of scripture to our daily lives? We must examine how it was to be read at the time (which we have done), and then see what we can apply from it to our own lives. For myself in my marriage, I look again to the original grammar of Ephesians 5, that indicates the submission is to be mutual. I “submit” to my husband, and he “submits” to me. In other words, our relationship is built on Trust, Clear Communication, and Respect for one another. Sometimes we have to compromise, and I have to put aside my own desires for his sake, or he must set aside his own desires for my sake. It is a willingness to listen to one another, to approach conflicts with an open mind, to consider each other’s feelings before we speak. It is an equal, mutual submission based on love for each other, which doesn’t contradict what Paul says at all. God created all people to be equal. Humans are stupid sometimes and try to insist that we know better, try to create hierarchies and use the bible to try and justify that, but that doesn’t mean those humans are right. If your church is trying to make you feel less than because of your gender, or if you date somebody who pushes TradWife rhetoric and tries to use Ephesians as their justification, then you Run, and feel justified in doing so. (Especially if they also try to use Paul’s words to tell you why you owe your partner sex; see again, Paul was not only sexist but also lived in a patriarchal time when women were second class citizens that had very specific expectations placed on them AND he wasn’t even in a relationship himself, forgive me if I take his advice on my sex life with a grain of salt. Without doing this whole process again, a good modern reading of “don’t deprive one another” is “don’t use sex as a weapon in your relationship/withhold it for bs reasons when you’re mad at each other, etc. Like all other relationship things, sex (or a lack thereof) with your spouse should be based on mutual trust, communication, and love, not petty arguments or the standards of others.)

Trust me, as an ace woman myself, I totally get the fear. I’ve felt it myself, in the past. But God’s intentions for you are not that you become a doormat or servant to a man. If a romantic relationship (or any other partnership) is part of His plan for you, then the bible clearly states, both in Ephesians and elsewhere, that it should be one built on Love and Trust, not Subjugation and Servitude.

I hope this helped you, and again, sorry it was so long XD. Have an amazing day! <3

#christianity #biblical analysis #religion #anti trad wife #ephesians 5 #ace things #taylor talks #for a loooong time

[eijishimas]

[pants] I’M HERE

congrats on 1k bestie <3!!! could i maybe have uuuuuuuh cyberpunk!au, recording, dumbification, and handcuffs/blindfolds with bakugou pls 🥺👉👈

hi sunny honey, it’s your cherry here ready to deliver your bakugou drabble <3 can’t imagine a better way to come back to writing tbh. thanks for this one, enjoy some subby cyborg katsuki LMFAO

ngl i struggled a bit with this one bc it was my first attempt at writing in a week and i apologize shfgjdgfkd

also shit this wasn’t meant to be so long—

content warnings: slight dubcon (? tagging it as such just incase), a handjob, overstim, creampie/just a lot of cum in general, power dynamics, calling bakugou “pet”, and some really rusty writing yikes

1k event masterlist.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” his voice cut through the various whirring of machinery around the two of you, your gaze being thrown over your shoulder to inspect the man demanding your attention. His wrists were cuffed to your operating table— well at least, his one remaining wrist made of his flesh and bone, while the other stayed magnetized to the table.

When you didn’t provide him with an answer, he grit his teeth in anger. Hearing him thrash helplessly on the counter, you smiled idly to yourself as you tapped away at your keyboard. Pressing the enter button, you noted the small spherical drone that flew around your shoulders. It buzzed with life, its built-in camera flashing a little red light to indicate that it was, in fact, recording. “Test run 409, for one Katsuki Bakugou. Subject has had many cybernetic replacements, including his arm, his right leg past his knee, and part of his jaw. All of which were installed by myself, he seems to be responding well to all sensory tests and retains memory of his past accident.”

“When I fucking asked you to fix me up, this isn’t what I meant,” Katsuki rumbled, looking down to see that his clothes were completely discarded. His dick was completely out in the open. Crimson spread across his cheeks, his anger slowly growing as he glared at how utterly unbothered you were by him. Your gentle hand stroked the side of his face, his eyes flickering from your fingers to the half lidded gaze you gave him.

“I didn’t ask for you to make me some kind of robot freak,” he spat venomously, though there was no denying the way his heart thudded in his chest at how your fingers ran their way down his neck, over his scarred chest from previous battles trying to reclaim his dirt poor city from the technological monsters that ran it. Such battles that were so bloody, it led him here to your hands. You were the best doctor the city had to offer, and apparently Kirishima wasn’t lying when he had said you could fix anything. Your fingers danced across his hot skin, and Katsuki cursed the fire that began to build low in his stomach, a feeling that made his cock twitch the longer you touched him like this.

“I told you upfront what my repayment would be, pet,” the moment the word left your mouth, Katsuki’s nostrils flared, hot embarrassment flooding his being. And yet, he grunted as his cock stiffened further. “When I get out of these fucking cuffs, I’ll-” “You’ll what?” you chided, hand now wrapping around his throbbing cock from the amount of teasing you had subjected him to. His thighs tensed, breathing laboured as he could feel his wrist digging into the steel of the handcuff. His bionic arm flexed, artificial fingers curled into a fist as he fought the urge to succumb into any unfavourable thoughts that were plaguing his mind. Mostly of you bouncing on his cock, or wrapping his newly cybernetic hand around your neck, flipping the table and fucking you right— Your thumb toyed with his slit, earning a hiss from the ash blond beneath you. Your tiny drone flew down to zoom in on how your nails looked as you pumped his cock, Katsuki's cock now fully hard in your hand.

“Sensitive, aren’t you? When’s the last time you-”

“Shut the fuck up, doc.”

The moments you had with him were well spent. You made him cum a handful of times. Once with your hand, another with your mouth, and now you were sitting on his cock right down to the hilt, eyelids drooped low with a darkened lust and heart thrumming in your chest at how utterly spent he looked beneath you. His eyes rolled back into skull as he struggled to keep up with your brutal pace of you impaling yourself on his cock. “Doc, fuck ‘m…” he could barely form any sentences, his body overstimulated as his broad chest heaved. He was a mess of curses, cum, and sweat. And still he wanted more.

“C’mon,” you urged, swivelling your hips as you glanced down at how Katsuki’s cum painted his abs with white from his previous orgasm. Katsuki wanted to touch you. Feel your plush skin, squeeze your ass, give him some semblance of control over his situation. And yet, the only response he could give you was a simple whine, head thrown back as you milked his cock for the third time that night. You grinned as you clicked your tongue at his expression.

“Don’t go dumb on me now, pet.”

all works © eijishimas 2021. do not reuse, modify, or repost.

tags:

@lonleyweeb77 @cynthus-no @lonelyheart-cluband @smhhyung @stoopidnekobish @kirislilrock @baku-deku1 @hajisuu @damnitcrowley @foruthemoon @peaxhcringe @justanotheruselessextra @izukuuarchive @katsuki-kitten @bakugous-trauma @katsukichu @anime-weeb-bnha @cosmic-waves7 @amaejiki @shokoarashi @runrabbitrun3 @pasteldaz3 @xxcarvingmyskinxx

#tw: dubcon #tw: dubious consent #bnha smut #mha smut #bnha x reader smut #mha x reader smut #katsuki bakugo smut #katsuki bakugou smut #bakugou smut #bakugo smut #katsuki bakugo x reader smut #katsuki bakugou x reader smut #jay hits 1k??? #eijishimas.drabbles

[londonskies]

DON’T SAY THE S WORD!!

https://images.app.goo.gl/JKKNVtwZNGAVVwzB9

In which Corpse has a secret girlfriend and his insomnia is driving them both up the wall, putting precious Sykkuno in danger because he said the word “Sleep”. 

Hi! This is just a once in a blue moon, feel good, fluff fic cause I have commitment issues on my writing lol. 

Yes, my writing style is long winded, I’m really sorry, but I hope you enjoy it! 

credits to  u/balderdash_lee on reddit

Corpse had not slept for close to 50 hours by the time that they had started their latest month prior pre-planned plasmophobia session with Rae, Sykkunno and Toast, but it was like he was hyped up on sugar for the last hour or so and Y/n was really beginning to get worried. 

This was a tattletale sign of the huge crash her boyfriend was about to go through, and yet the stubborn man just would not step away from his computer.

She had tried everything, from luring him with pizza (to which he had snatched a few slices and had just retreated to his gaming room once more) to telling him that there was a fire in the kitchen (to which he replied was virtually impossible given how meticulous Y/n was in the kitchen) to faking an injury (which corpse called bullshit on without even looking at her).

It was getting really frustrating and she knew for a fact that the longer her boyfriend was going to wait this out, the worse he was going to feel.

And the worse he was going to act. 

He would never hurt anyone, ever. The man was the definition of a soft boi beyond his brain meltingly amazing voice. But when he was beyond bone dead tired like he was right now, he had the tendency to act mean, and the only person who had the capability of calming him down in the middle of the pandemic was Y/n, and she would have to hijack his stream. 

The stream that was filled with hundreds of thousands of people who didn’t even know that their precious Corpse was in a relationship with anyone. 

Would she have the chance to mute him before he went on his tired, angry, borderline crazy monologue? She would try, but probably not. 

Y/n had to bring out the big guns. 

Rae and Toast were pretty easy people to conspire with and were almost always down to do pranks and other shit that Y/n came up with, and always, always down to do whatever it took to get Corpse to take care of himself. 

Sykkuno though, bless him, the cutest, most clueless person Y/n had ever met. 

He was always very concerned for Corpse’s health but was the worst at going incognito. So Rae and Toast were the ones who used their code word (lights out) and had always been the ones who had the role of making sure Sykkuno knew what to do. 

“Aaaaaaaaaaanddd, lights out baby!” Rae screamed as she made her way past Sykkuno at the entrance of the house they were in at the moment, but Sykkuno, the precious little boy that he is, just watched Rae with a bewildered face, getting even more confused when Toast made his way past him as well, whispering “Lights out.” and moving back to the truck in the game. 

From inside, Corpse’s character was busy laughing at a joke he made about a picture in the wall and had not noticed the other two missing. He did notice though, when Sykkuno appeared near him to ask him what was up before convulsing and dropping to the floor. 

Corpse’s laugh was noticeably more manic now, getting a lot more high pitched and erratic. For a second, Sykkuno laughed with him, then when Corpse’s went on for too long, suddenly looked confused on his stream, turning to face the general vicinity he Corpse’s character was. 

So he spoke through their always open discord chat. “Uhh, Corpse? You okay there buddy?” 

The stubborn man just kept laughing, Y/n increasingly getting concerned as she watched all 4 player’s streams on different devices one room over. Rae and Toast were chatting about the pills in the truck, so as to not alarm Corpse of the lowkey distraction they were doing to finish the game easy (aka getting at least 3 of them killed), and then giving excuses to stop streaming and giving Y/n a chance to haul his ass to bed. 

Sykkuno on the other hand, was now (against all plans spoken about prior) continuing to talk to Corpse. 

“Corpse?” the timid man spoke once more, finally reaching the ever more manic Corpse. 

All of a sudden, an eerie silence fell around the two of them, settling for a few seconds before getting filled by a flat “Yea?” from Corpse. 

Y/n could almost hear the sentence that Sy would reply to that, and at that moment, she knew, they were fucked. 

With a quick “Fuckin shite” to both Rae and Toast’s chat, Y/n bounded over to Corpse’s office, hearing tail end of the question that was about to make Corpse’s brain go kaboom. 

“You sound tired man, maybe you should sleep for a bit?” 

She knew he only meant good. Sykkuno was just one of those guys that would never want to hurt anyone. She knew it, Corpse knew it, everyone knew it. 

But her secret boyfriend was sleep deprived and going batshit crazy because of it, and currently, his trigger word was the word Sleep.

Y/n would give poor Sy a viking funeral if she can’t stop this.

“I am not tire-” Corpse was pretty intimidating when he wanted to be, and I knew that that low voice of his would scare every single hitman in a 1000 mile radius when used in a booming, angry way. And the way his voice was escalating was sure to end in said booming, angry way.

Y/n sprinted into his recording room, only partially wincing at the horridly loud bang the door made when she wrenched it open to fling herself at her boyfriend. The world seemed to slow as she soared through the air, uncaring if she knocked things out of the way. 

Gotta make sure their baby Sy would never be at that end of Corpse’s fury. 

She partially landed on his lap, torso hanging off the side. It hurt as her ribs made contact on the armrest of his computer chair, but it stopped his tirade with a surprised “Ooof!” and knocked him away from his PC.

“Honey!! Don’t yell at Sy!” 

“Y/n???”

Oh shit. 

Of course Sykkuno had to yell out her name during a stream. She had bet Toast 200 dollars that Sy would be the one to drop her name, and it was high time she cashed in. 

Y/n fixed herself on Corpse’s lap, shoving his headphones off of him and forcing him into a hug. Of course he protested, but eventually relaxed in her grip, muttering about how his eyes and wrists hurt now but he promised to play with the OTV peeps and his insomnia hit him too hard these past few days. 

“Baby,” he whispered hoarsely, his grip tightening on her as well. It only took a moment for Y/n to realize that her boyfriend was shaking, trying not to fall apart. “It hurts.” 

She ran her fingers through his hair, putting a kiss on the top of his head as he relaxed even more. They had to move to a more comfortable space soon or else Corpse would fall asleep here and she would have to move him (which at 5 feet, is not very easy.) but he was relaxing and Y/n couldn’t make herself distract him from that. 

“I know babe, it’s okay. We’ll breathe through it. You can do it, I know you can.” Corpse would never fess up to crying, but the growing patch of tears on her sweater was evidence of the amount of pain that he was experiencing. 

His dedication was amazing, but a lot of the time he sacrificed his health for it. So as much as she didn’t want to hold him back, sometimes she really just had to step in and meddle to save him from himself.

They stayed like that for a while, Y/n occasionally having to coach him through his breathing, but overall, they were doing fine. 

Y/n smiled into his hair when he finally stopped shaking. “That’s it babe, you’re doing amazing.” she whispered, moving to get off his lap. She wasn’t the lightest person despite her shortness, her curves never letting her be skinny, so she was sure that her sitting on his lap was making his legs go numb. Corpse, on the other hand, only held on tighter, basically turning into a koala at this point. 

“Corpse, Honey, your legs are gonna go numb, babe.” she giggled. She tried to put him at arm’s length, but her apparently octopus boyfriend had planned to never let her go. 

“No.” he mumbled, pressing his face ever tighter into her sweater, making her giggle, in turn, making him smile. 

Eventually, he detached his face from her sweater and peeked up at his girlfriend, the visual of his tousled hair, pout, one sparkling eye and the other now only partially covered by his falling eyepatch, but both with smudged eyeliner and mirth, made her melt.  “Don’t go, please?” Y/n giggled at him. “I’m not gonna leave babe, I just gotta get off your lap before I make your legs undergo hypoxia.” 

“I’d let them cut off my legs if it meant having you here forever.” if she hadn’t already fallen in love with this man, she would say that this was the moment that she fell in love with him. But falling in love with him over and over again was probably something that she would never stop doing, even if Corpse ever decided to not love her back one day. 

They were jolted out of their happy little bubble when they heard a loud screech coming from his headphones making a sound more akin to blasting speakers than headphones, which had apparently fallen just beside them on the table instead of the floor like Y/n anticipated. “STOP YOUR LOVING AND GO TO SLEEP CORPSE!” Rae screeched, making the both of them laugh out loud, but one look at his screen stopped them at their tracks.

Corpse was miraculously still alive in game, Rae’s character moving back and forth in front of his. 

Rae… was streaming, right? 

Oh shit numero dos. 

One look at the chat showed that they had just outed themselves. The sappy couple making everyone watching go absolutely bonkers at the chat. 

“WHO IS THAT?” -ijustlovemakingsounds

“HONEY???? BABE?????” - corpseybae

“WHAT IS HAPPENING??” -randomuser

“IS CORPSE OKAY?” -ShinigamiEyes

“CORPSE??” -corpsekkuno28

“BABY?????” -honestlywtf

“HE’S SO SWEET OMGOMGOMGOMG!!!!!!!” -cutiepiecorpsey

“WAIT WAIT WAIT IS HE OKAY????” -omgilovehim

“WHO THE HECK??” -wifeyyyycorpse

Both parties were staring wide eyed at the screens. Even with slow mode on, the chat was going a hundred miles per hour and all they were seeing were screaming chats in all caps zooming up. 

For a second Y/n just kept staring quietly, and then the first giggle escaped her and soon, both of them were a giggling pile of sweaters and limbs on Corpse’s computer chair, not even trying to stop their antics. Rae screamed another “YOU’RE BOTH CUTE AND WE ALL KNOW IT STOP AND SLEEP!!” 

The laughter seemed endless. 

It was the sound of Y/n’s phone ringing from the other room that finally got her up from the warm confines of Corpse’s lap. But before she left, she was going to make sure that Corpse was not just going to continue streaming in her absence. 

“Sooo….” Y/n turned them over so that she was facing the screen and not him, talking directly into the mic as she scrambled for the headphones she had shoved off of his head. “Yes Corpse Husband has a Corpse wife and she’s now taking him back to their coffins because the hubby is a stubborn piece of shit and has not slept in more than 50 hours.” 

The casual information drop made the chat go even crazier, people now freaking out about her, trying to find out who she was, what she did, when and where they met, stuff like that. “I’ll see what I can do to answer your questions, you simps. But I gotta knock him out for now, and I promise you won’t be left hanging.” 

She felt him wrap his arms around her waist once more, feeling him press his face tightly against her back. “Baby,” he started to say, but Y/n cut him off with a few pats to wherever she could reach behind her.

“Sorry, but the jackass is now cut off from the mic and shall be cut off until he sleeps, so I shall be the one to say, good day to you sirs and madams, he shall see you on the next one! Bye!!!!” 

Then a pause, and a quietly frustrated “Hun, how do you turn it off??”

The chat was flooded with variations of “She’s so cute!!” and as tempted as he was to keep it going for a bit, he knew that it would upset and worry his adorable girlfriend to do so. 

So from his vantage point, he just mumbled a quick “Bye!” before cutting off stream. Normally, he would stay and read superchats and see how many new members he had gained, but this time, his tiny, but determined girlfriend was dead set on getting him to chill his ass out. 

And he let you.

He watched as you dragged him off to bed, tucking him in all the fluffy blankets you’d gotten for his comfort, smiled as you eagerly burrowed yourself under the fluff with him, sighed contentedly as your warmth surrounded him as you cuddled into him. 

He basked in your presence as he held you back just as tight, feeling you plant a kiss in his hair and smile as he relaxed ever more. From across the room, the mirror reflected the image of the two of you, touching the deepest recesses of the soul he would never claim to have. 

And as he drifted off, he watched as you glowed in the streaks of the fading afternoon sun, peeking through their heavy curtains, he thought:

What more was there to ask for? 

#corpse x reader #corpse husband #fluff #drabble #sleeping #corpse's insomnia #insomnia #fanfic #simp #SLEEP #Don't say the S word #corpse_husband #Y/N #amigops #plasmophobia #corpse needs sleep #corpse x y/n #secret girlfriend #streaming #corpse stream #tw cursing #Sykkuno in danger #code words #feel good #don't say sleep #corpse husband imagine #fanfiction #adorable #soft boi

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Ignorant | Steve Rogers

Wow I was really going through it with this one, huh? I think I listened to Bring Me To Life by Evanescence for the entire two hours it took to write this. I never write this fast-- I'm really going through it LOL! I hope you enjoy lovelies! It's the first Steve fic for Dinner at DIzzy's!

Appetizers (Tags): Angst

Entres (Pairing): Nomad!Steve Rogers x F!Reader (Third Person)

Sides (Prompts): 3: “Apparently I’m volatile, self-obsessed, and don’t play well with others.”

Notes: This has a ton of swearing, Requested by Anon

Word Count: 1.8k

Dinner at Dizzy’s Master List

“Just because you’re the leader here doesn’t mean you have the right to be an asshole, Steve!” Y/n hisses at the man, fists balled at her side.

She’s not going to swing. She would never swing on him— at least she doesn’t think she would— but right now she’s so damn close. All day he’s been pushing her around, yelling at her for the slightest trip ups. Yelling at all of them. She understands that being fugitives isn’t easy but holy shit can the man chill out for five minutes? She fell asleep in the backseat of the car for five fucking minutes! Certainly that doesn’t warrant the hour tongue lashing she just got. It does, however, warrant her retaliation.

He takes a step towards her, face twisted in a snarl unlike anything she’s ever seen before. “Watch your language!”

She doesn’t back down— she’s not scared of him. “Don’t fucking yell at me then! Stop being a dick!”

She doesn’t feel bad for the insult or the way he flinches, his eyes darkening immensely. She had tried to politely ask him for space thirty minutes ago and he didn’t give her any. If he gets to blow off steam or whatever the fuck he’s doing than so will she.

“I’ll stop being a dick when you get some common sense!”

Steve’s raising his own voice now, getting right in her face, and she only pushes forward, her cheeks filling with heat and her stomach clenching painfully. The audacity of this man is incredible. His usual light eyes are a deep navy color now, almost black from his blown pupils. He looks crazy— she doesn’t doubt that she does as well. She would bet money that she looks insane.

“I fell asleep for five fucking minutes and Sam was right fucking next to me! What the fuck is your problem?” She’s doing it on purpose now— if he doesn’t want her to swear then that’s all she’s going to do.

Maybe it’s the triple F-bomb that has the sound of feet pounding against concrete echoing through their shoddy apartment. Maybe it’s just the yelling in general. Either way it’s a good thing that Natsaha and Sam come sprinting in from the other room of the two room complex because if they hadn’t then she’s sure her fist would be cracking against the jaw of Captain Douchebag right now.

“Woah, woah, woah— what the hell’s going on in here?” Sam is quick to get in the middle of them, pushing the super soldier to one end of the room while Nat yanks on y/n’s hoodie. “We could hear you idiots from the stairwell.”

Y/n struggles against Nat for a moment, vision tinted red at the edges. From across the room Steve glares at her, seething. She can practically feel the hatred pouring off of him. It stings at her chest, biting into her veins. He would have kept yelling at her if they hadn’t stopped him, she just knows it. She wishes he would so she could scream back— her stomach and muscles are still tight and she’s aching to lay into him some more. She barely even started and now she feels like she’s about to bubble over.

“Seriously—” Nat tugs again and y/n stops fighting, opting instead to glower at the blonde from across the room— “What’s gotten into you two? You’re supposed to be the responsible ones!”

Steve tears his arm from Sam’s hold but doesn’t clear the space between them. “Why don’t you ask y/n—” he tilts his head, sneering again— “What was it you said ten minutes ago? Oh yeah— apparently I’m volatile, self-obsessed, and don’t play well with others.”

Why that little fucking— “Don’t put fucking words in my mouth!”

She storms past Natasha, dodging her arm as it flies out— you’re not the only trained markswoman here Nat. Steve does the same, bowling past Sam easily to meet her in the middle of the room.

“Why not? It’s what you meant right?” He’s in her face again, breath hot on her face, and she only retaliates by fuming right back.

She feels like a dragon facing down her enemy— she’s ready to burn the entire building down if it means lowering him a peg or five.

“Actually it wasn’t but now it is you narcissistic dick.”

She can feel Natasha start to pull on her hoodie again but she’s not done— not now. Not when she’s just gotten started.

“You just can’t handle hearing the truth y/n— you can’t handle it when I tell you what you did was wrong. That you could have gotten us fucking killed with your ignorance—”

Her veins flood with fire, her lips curling into a painful scowl. In that moment everything turns slow, her heartbeat a dull thump, thump, thump in her ears, drowning out the rest of his sentence. The only thing that gives away that he’s still speaking is his mouth moving, his teeth bared and ready to be knocked out.

Oh so she’s ignorant now is she? Yeah well fuck you Rogers!

This time the only thing that stops her fist from slamming into Steve’s jaw is Sam catching it mid air, her knuckles slapping off his palm and bringing the sounds in the room rushing back to her at full force. She stumbles back with the impact but the soldier catches her, steadying her on her feet with a worried look in his soft brown eyes. It feels like she’s been underwater for days, her ears popping painfully as she gasps for breath.

“—s enough Steve!” When y/n blinks Nat is shoving her palm against the super soldier’s chest. “You need to back the hell off!”

She doesn’t realize until her eyelashes stick to her cheeks that they’re wet. That she’s crying. The sobs catch up to her when it registers, wracking through her with a force strong enough to have her whole body shaking. Sam is the first to notice, reaching out for her but she backs away, shaking her head. The room falls silent, three pairs of eyes now trained on her but she’s only looking at one pair of wide blue ones. Steve’s chest is heaving up and down, a cross between a feral and a confused look slathered across his features.

The look ignites the last of the dying spark inside her, her hand landing against her chest, wrapping around the dog tags hanging off her neck and yanking until she hears a snap. She waits for the chain to pool in her hands before she whips the metal across the room, hitting him square in the chest with a roar that’s more animal than human tearing from her throat— you wanted flames and now you’re going to get them.

“I’m ignorant? Me? Did you ever stop to ask yourself why the fuck I fell asleep today?” She slips her hands into her hair, tugging so hard on the roots that her scalp feels like it’s burning. “How about because last night you came back from scouting three hours late and looking like you got mauled by a fucking bear? And I asked you what happened and you wouldn't tell me a goddamn thing! You— Mister fucking super serum whatever the fuck! You just went to bed and I spent the rest of the night listening to you gasp for air! Not knowing if the shit was even working or if I was going to wake up to you gone! I—”

Her voice cracks and she curses, scraping her wrist across her face to wipe away some of the hot tears pooling down her cheeks. They feel like trails of lava melting her skin as they rush over her jaw and drip onto the floor. Steve’s face has morphed completely during the span of her rant, his mouth falling open, lips no longer busted open like they had been last night but still horrifying to look at right now. She knows he wants to say something— maybe he even wants to apologize— but there’s no fucking way she’s letting him. She’s not finished yet.

“I spent all night wondering if I was going to lose you! That I would wake up and have nothing! You’re my everything and I thought you were going to die and you wouldn’t tell me anything. So yeah, I guess I’m ignorant! Fuck you too.”

Her throat is raw by the time she’s done spitting the words at him, her head fuzzy from a lack of oxygen and her waning rage. It’s giving way too quickly to sadness— to the agonizing kind of heartbreak that has all her organs seemingly shutting down. Her face is sticky and itchy and she needs to get away from him right now.

She turns to meet the stunned faces of Sam and Nat, swallowing hard and wincing at the way her esophagus stings. She’s not going to have a voice at all tomorrow— or for the next week at this rate. Sam’s eyes look like they’re going to pop out of his head from how wide they are, his mouth open but— like Steve— no words are coming out. She flicks her eyes to Nat who, thankfully, springs into action, nodding her head to the door, the question clear in her eyes— want to get the fuck out of here? Y/n doesn’t answer, she just starts walking.

It’s in that moment that Steve snaps out of his stupor, racing to catch her at the door, warm hand curling gently around her wrist. She doesn’t even give herself a second to enjoy it— to fall into his touch and forget the agony in her chest— before she’s ripping her arm away from him, cradling it against her chest and backing away from him.

“Baby I—” His face is tight, his light brows creasing the middle of his forehead.

She can see it— the regret. It carves across his face, tugging his lips into a frown and making his eyes glass over. Her chest squeezes at the sight, her own eyes coating with a fresh sheen of tears. She wants to wrap her arms around him— to tell him that she forgives him and that she loves him and that she’s scared— but he did this not her and before she knows it she’s taking another step back, shoulder bumping into Nat’s as she shakes her head.

“I’m sleeping with Nat tonight. I’ll talk to you in the morning. Night, Steve.”

Steve’s face falls, the first of his tears pooling down his now angelic face, and as she hesitates. Maybe she should— she feels a tug on her hand, glancing down to where Natasha’s slender fingers wrap around her forearm. She doesn’t have the strength to fight her comrade as she pulls her past the door frame.

As the super soldier falls from her line of sight all she can hear is Sam’s exhausted voice—

“Let her go, man.”

—and she breaks.

#Steve Rogers #Captain America #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #captain america x reader #captain america x y/n #nomad!steve #nomad!steve angst #steve rogers angst #captain america angst #nomad!steve x reader #nomad!steve x y/n #steve rogers fic #steve rogers imagine #captain america fic #captain america imagine #mcu fic #mcu #marvel cinematic universe

[folkloreguk]

an angel for a demon (2)

A/N: Part one came out like two years ago lmao but I’ve always wanted to write another part, and here it finally is! I’m always open to feedback of any kind! x

genre: smut, optional bias (male), demon!bias, angel!reader, reader’s first time, unprotected sex bc we pretend angels and demons can’t have babies or STDs apparently

words: ~ 3.4 k

PART 1

PART 3

Three days had passed since you had begun to live with him. It had taken you some time to get used to your new surroundings and to realize this is where you would spend most of your time from now on. His place was not what angels called beautiful. Had it been yours, it would have been filled with antique statues of heavenly beings, light, soft colors and comfortable pillows and blankets. But his taste differed gravely from yours. He had a love for black marble and accents of red. Not the beautiful, bright red of strawberries in summer. It was dark crimson, like deoxygenated blood fresh out of a wound. You felt like you had entered a side wing of hell itself, sometimes. But you knew hell had to be much, much worse.

On the second day, you had set yourself the challenge of making the place feel at least slightly homier. No one who entered this apartment would, even in their wildest dreams, assume that an angel lived there. Although you weren’t sure you could call yourself that, anymore. Your trip to the grocery store was the most humane thing you had ever done on earth, but surely wouldn’t stay the last. You wondered, while you had strolled around the isles, whether one day you could find yourself working a job on earth, now that you couldn’t call heaven home no more. You still had the desire to help the humans, and maybe you could earn a living whilst doing so.

On that note, you had pondered countless times how a demon could afford the luxury he lived in. But he wasn’t one to tell you about his day when he returned home after being out all night. He called it ‘demon business’ and ‘nothing that should concern a little angel’. One day, you would winkle it out of him. Although maybe you really would be better off not knowing. But you knew, as always that sooner or later your curiosity would get the best of you.

When he came home on the second day and laid eyes on the cotton candy-colored flowers on the table, he couldn’t help but smirk at how proud you were. The contrast was stark against the dark ebony table and seemed like an accurate representation of how you had felt in his home.

“If you wanted me to bring you flowers you could have just said so,” he said.

“I like going out to the store myself sometimes,” you replied. He was always so stern when he returned home. Sometimes he had tired eyes, and often he seemed physically exhausted. But the moment he laid eyes on you, his strained expression softened. Then, he’d stroke away a strand of your hair and gaze at you with utmost admiration. He had offered to buy you whatever your heart desired, but your angel life had never required you to have possessions. There was no greed or yearning for luxury, and you liked it that way.

One thing, however, you never seemed to get enough of on earth. No matter how many books you opened and got lost in, you always wanted more. And he knew of your wish to learn more about the world. He had gifted you books of philosophy, biology and physics, and yet he had no idea it wasn’t science that interested you the most.

Every night you lay awake for too long, reflecting on what he had said to you that one night. That there was more for you to learn. Before him, you never knew what real pleasure felt like – you weren’t supposed to, even now – but now that you understood, you only wanted to feel it again and again. A few times you had contemplated asking him to show you more. To let you feel the pure bliss of what heaven called sinning again. But he seemed tired when he returned home, and when he didn’t you were too scared to approach him with such a topic. Plus, you didn’t even know how to. Too new was the idea of you – an angel – even thinking of doing such unholy things.

So you spent your days pacing around the apartment, sitting by the window, looking out at the city and waiting for him to come home. One night, you couldn’t fall asleep, as on many other occasions. He wasn’t there next to you, and the bed felt too big for just one lonely angel in it. There was an almost burning sensation between your legs. Once again, you squeezed your eyes shut and thought of other things – floating on clouds, watching older angels’ wings flatter, inspecting your little village you used to guard from above. But nothing helped. It all led back to black eyes, razor teeth, a sharp tongue and hands so hellish in their actions, you should have wished he had never touched you. And yet you never did.

Your eyes shot open when you heard the shower turn on. The alarm clock on the table read 1:57 am. Not so patiently, you waited a few minutes until the sound of the water died down. Then, you tip-toed out of the room and down the hall.

The sight of him made your cheeks heat up. He was sat, in the dark, on the sofa. A towel was around his waist, a few drops of water glistening on his bare chest as he lifted the glass of alcohol to his lips.

“What are you doing standing and staring, little angel? Why don’t you come join me?” he suddenly asked. Your heart skipped a beat at his voice. Heaven help me now, you thought.

“I thought you didn’t…,” you started, slowly moving across the room as if you were floating.

“I didn’t notice you?” he finished your sentence. You hummed a quiet yes. “Your glow is hard to miss.”

You weren’t sure what he meant by that. Was he saying, that just as he had a dark aura around him, you radiated a bright one? It made sense to you. You stopped in your tracks when you stood in front of him.

“You’re wearing your angel dress again,” he pointed out. He had brought you clothes, but nothing felt as right on your body as your white dress you had always worn.

“I always sleep in it,” you said. “You never see it, since you’re never here.”

“Does my little angel miss me?” he said. His dark eyes watched you intently, but they softened when he realized you had meant your words. “Come here, let me make it up to you.”

Not knowing what he meant by those words, you plopped down next to him.

“I meant come here,” he repeated, tapping his lap. Oh. Obediently, you swung one of your legs over his waist. Suddenly, you were hyperaware of the fact that his towel was the only thing between your center and his bare skin. Carefully, you watched his eyes for instructions or assurance. You kept your hands tightly by your sides, not daring to touch his skin that shined so beautifully in the moonlight. It was almost ironic, how ethereal his perfectly sculpted muscles appeared to you.

“Tell me, angel, do you sometimes think about what we did three days ago?” he asked, softly brushing his fingers along your arm. You should have felt ashamed to admit it. But with the way he watched you, he seemed to already guess your answer.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about it,” you said, the words spilling out after keeping them in for too long. “I want to know more.”

He smirked, hooded black eyes watching your every breath while his head remained on the backrest of the sofa.

“Is that so?” he almost teased. “Why don’t you kiss me, then? Go ahead.”

Hesitantly, you bent forward until your forehead was almost touching his. Now, you didn’t look into his intimidating gaze anymore, but instead the closeness only made you more nervous. But more prominent than your nerves was your curiosity and your desire you hadn’t been able to shut out for the past days. You smelled a faint note of alcohol before you softly pressed your lips against his. Your kiss was the tender flutter of butterfly wings, like a singular snowflake landing on warm skin, as careful as a little bird in a lion’s cage.

But he kissed back, so overwhelmingly and suddenly, it robbed your breath in an instant. His body straightened up now, arms pulling you closer to his chest. Humming contently, he took your lifeless hands from your sides and placed them on his shoulders. His warm skin was inviting, making it easy for you to melt into his touch. Still, you weren’t used to this feeling. Maybe you would never get used to it. Perhaps it was supposed to be this exciting every single time. He breathed against your mouth heavily and his tongue swiped across your lips. The sensation was enticing and combined with his coaxing hands digging into your waist, your guilt washed away far too quickly. But there had been no redemption after the previous time and there wouldn’t be one now. Or ever. For a moment, you pulled away, needing air.

“Too much? Too fast?” he asked, cradling your face in his hands. A rush of comfort overcame you.

“No, I’m fine. It just feels – really good,” you said.

“Of course it does,” he bragged, smirking infamously.

“Can you…I want you to touch me…like you did last time,” you said. Even you were surprised at yourself. You could have just waited for him and he surely would have made you feel amazing. But now that you knew what it could feel like, you weren’t able to swallow your impatience.

“Such a sinful confession from such holy lips,” he said, voice dripping honey while he brushed two of his fingers across those very lips. “I wonder what other things those could do.”

What could he possibly be talking about? How much was there for you to try out? Whatever it was, you wanted to do it all. You had no idea what had come over you. Was there a secret demon that had taken possession of your body without notice? Or maybe you were simply an angel tired of acting like one.

Slowly, his hands dropped from your sides and to your hips. All while he watched your face like it was his favorite meantime to make you squirm under his touch. When he progressed to your thighs, something dropped in your stomach. Again, your body reacted before your mind did and you wanted to press your legs together. It felt familiar, but just as thrilling as the first time. His head tilted slightly as if to ask ‘do you like this?’ as he lifted the hem of your satin dress. And how you liked it.

You were very aware of being bare in front of him. So, in order to avoid feeling his eyes on your body, you bent forward again to kiss him. Bad idea – because the lack of oxygen and the loss of your sight when you closed your eyes only intensified the need. His fingertips were fleeting, rather non-demon-like, but you knew how fast he could flip his actions, had he wanted to.

They ghosted over your slit, collecting your wetness that had been pooling there. At even the slightest contact of his finger on your clit, you let out a quiet noise. He had been biting his lip, but when he heard you, his eyes met yours in an instant and he smirked.

“Let me hear you, little angel,” he said, before placing a kiss on your neck. While he continued to suck purple marks into your skin, his fingers toyed around your center, figuring out what made you react in the best way. And as the angel you were, always eager to please, you made sure you didn’t keep your mouth shut anymore. It felt weird, noticing the sounds he produced from you so involuntarily, but the more you concentrated on the feeling of his hand between your legs, the easier it was to ignore them.

Maybe you were easy to please, or perhaps you were completely see-through for him. It occurred to you he had you figured out head to toe. How did he know exactly which spots to touch to have you clinging to him, as if you would have fallen had he not held you? He drew random figures on your clit, variating the pace just to keep you on edge right where he wanted you. Now and then, his digits slid further down to your core, almost entering you but not quite yet. Your moans came out in a muffled manner as you had your face buried where his neck and shoulder met.

“Look at me, angel,” he said. So you did. No matter what sort of menace could have possibly lay behind his black orbs, the sound of his voice made you want to give him everything. And judging by the way your hips were moving and pushing against his hands by themselves you had already given your body to him. Against all odds, after all the horror stories you had been told to ensure an angel like you would stay far away from hellish beings, you trusted him.

“What a disgrace…They kept you locked up in heaven all this time,” he spoke. “I should have had you all along. You should have had me.”

It had never occurred to you that you could have looked at it this way. You had been happy in heaven. But then again, you hadn’t known what you had been missing. That’s when he slowly inserted one of his fingers into you. The sensation was unusual, but then he curled his digit and you understood.

“Oh god,” you let out when he touched a certain spot inside of you. It felt so right, you wondered why when you were able to feel this way, you should have been abstinent all along.

“Not exactly a good time to bring up god, huh?” he said, teeth nibbling on your neck. You laughed before you could have stopped yourself, and he looked stunned. But then, his lips curled into a malicious and content grin. At the same time, he added another finger into your core. His thumb remained rubbing against your clit, and like last time, you could feel a knot tying in your stomach as time went on. A string of whines and whimpers fell from your lips and your eyes shut tightly. But he decided you’d have to wait longer for your release.

“Do you think you can handle more?” he asked. You sighed when he retracted his hand from your core and watched as he brought his fingers up to his lips to taste you. His gaze didn’t let you decide whether he eyed you like prey or his most treasured thing in the world.

“Yes, I want you to show me,” you said quietly, almost breathless from the sight in front of you.

“Let’s go to the bedroom, then,” he announced. “It’ll be more comfortable for you.”

Your legs felt like jelly as you walked with him. This time, you didn’t hesitate to get onto his black bedsheets. It had become one of your favorite places to be in his apartment by now and the familiarity of it took away some of your nerves.

“I might be a demon, but I promise I can be gentle,” he said. His eyes were probably the most mellow they had ever been since you had met him. Carefully, he helped you slip out of your dress. “So don’t be scared, little angel.”

You had to admit, when he removed his towel from his waist and your eyes fell on his hard member, you weren’t sure if you would be okay. But then he bent down to you and kissed you. His hands softly stroked your cheeks, making it a hard contrast from his devilish image.

“Still sure?” he asked between kisses. It was like he was sucking the fear out of you, although he should have terrified you all along. You nodded and hummed but then changed your voice to a small whimper when he used his hand to run his cock over your slick center. Ever so carefully, he pushed himself inside of you. The stretch was uncomfortable, at first. He must had noticed by reading your face, because his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“It’ll feel better in a bit, I promise,” he said. You relaxed your muscles the moment he kissed you again, his plan of distracting you surely working. When he had completely filled you up, he stayed in place while your tongues touched and you moaned at the feeling. It felt like he had always meant to be there, on top of you, inside of you.

“If you need me to stop or slow down, you’ll tell me, right?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered. Once again you debated how you ended up this way. In bed with a demon. And said demon had his hooded black eyes on you, while he thrusted into you ever so slowly, and you couldn’t believe how out-of-this-world-perfect he looked. Although you would surely need more time to get used to the feeling, there was a hint of pleasure you felt every time he dragged his cock against your walls and that once special spot he had touched before.

Upon hearing how he moaned for the first time, you realized it wasn’t just touch that could make your stomach clench in a deep desire to be close to him. It sounded animalistic and you kept your eyes on the way his sharp teeth dug into his bottom lip. You sucked in a breath when he caressed your breasts, fingertips toying with your nipples.

“This is the closest to heaven I’ll ever get, right, little angel?” he spoke, and his gloating smile was so wicked, but handsome, right at that moment. You could only hum a ‘yes’. His lips on your neck were gentle, but your head spun whenever his teeth grazed your angel skin.

“You wouldn’t like it there, either way,” you said. His hand snaked down your body, between your legs where you had been missing them. He let out a growl-like moan when you clenched around his cock from the sudden added pleasure. In no time, he found your clit and used his skilled fingers, and he was right, this should have been the definition of heaven.

“And why is that?” he asked. “Because I couldn’t have you this way, in heaven?”

“Exactly,” you whimpered. “Oh- my-“

The desire to close your legs around him became bigger with each second, the knot in your belly tightening and your mind clouding with nothing but bliss.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re my own personal heaven,” he said. His free hand brushed away your hair delicately. “Are you gonna let go for me, sweet angel?”

You weren’t sure how to let go, exactly. But if by that he meant for you to close your eyes and just let the feeling wash over you, you would - without a choice - do so. Your high made your back arch against his chest and a small cry escaped your lips. He pushed his digits down on your center, slower now, but making sure to draw out every last second of your orgasm.

He had been speeding up his thrusts but then he pulled out, not wanting to cause you discomfort due to overstimulation. With his hand around his cock and quick movements of his wrist, he managed to bring on his own release, letting his cum spill out onto your thighs. You didn’t realize you had been holding your breath until you finally opened your eyes again, blinking tiredly and wetting your dry lips. He lowered his head until your foreheads touched. The more you looked into his black eyes, the more at home they made you feel.

“How was that, angel?” he asked, his breathing still unsteady.

“Heavenly,” you replied, pulling him in for a kiss. Even against his lips, you recognized his devilish smirk. And up to that point, you had believed ‘heaven on earth’ was just some silly little human saying. Until he proved you wrong.

#kpop scenarios #kpop smut #optional bias #optional bias smut #demon au #angel au #exo smut #bts smut #ateez smut #stray kids smut #the boyz smut #monsta x smut #seventeen smut #ikon smut #pentagon smut #cravity smut #astro smut #btob smut #nct smut #onlyoneof smut #oneus smut #onf smut #got7 smut #winner smut #day6 smut #n.flying smut #a.c.e smut #txt smut #vixx smut #kpop imagines

[maraudersftw]

This is weird. My dialogue is awful. I've been writing for over eight years now. I've barely improved. I feel demoralised every time I reread something of mine because it's just plain terrible. Like, there's no way anyone is actually ever going to say that. Let alone two super witty people, you just know would be great at bantering / flirting. I've asked people to beta, they're just too nice to actually tell me the very apparent issue with my dialogue. I'm not exaggerating. What should I do?

Hey, anon! First of all, I'm honoured that you thought of reaching out to me for this question even though I'm definitely still learning a lot of things about writing and what feels right to me myself. But I understand where you're coming from, and I'll do my best to help you out in whatever way I can. If any of my lovely writer mutuals have more to add, please feel free to do so!

1. Before I even start talking about anything else, it's important to remember that we're our own toughest critic, so it's possible (and quite likely) that your dialogues are not nearly as terrible as you think they are. When you've been writing and staring at the same words you've written multiple times, even the most interesting of dialogues can feel lame and try-hard to you. Whenever I write a fic and proofread through it before posting, 9/10 times I feel like it sounds boring or too dragged out. And it's because I already know what's going to happen, what the other person is going to say. Even if something is meant to be witty, I no longer find it to be so because I've written them. Return to your fics a year from now and you may feel differently.

2. Your betas are there to help you. I know it's difficult to broach that awkward boundary where you want them to be brutally honest about your writing vs wanting strangers on the internet to shower you with validation, but if you really, genuinely, want to improve your writing and make the maximum use of your betas, try talking to them about it. From what you've told me, they seem like very nice people, and if you tell them that they should just be as critical with your writing as they are with theirs, I think they'd understand. If they find that uncomfortable, that's fair. You can always ask someone else. I find that having different betas for different fics is always a good idea because you get to see how differing perspectives work.

3. Ask your betas to leave you comments when they're editing. It's easier to just pass on the doc and have them fix your typos and grammatical errors, but ask them how you can improve the dialogue and pacing as well! Tell them to leave some tips for you as they go over your work. This way, it doesn't have to be an one-on-one conversation (so neither of you feel awkward), and you can just return to the doc later and go through the suggestions slowly and imbibe them into your future works.

4. This might sound very simple, but it's important to remember when you're writing fic that these characters are normal humans who talk and behave like normal humans do. Sometimes, the whole flirting/bantering feel of the conversation just comes through from their actions and not their words. For eg. instead of writing something like:

"Hey, Potter! Are you free this weekend?" asked Lily.

"Why? Wanna take me on a date, Evans?" He smirked.

"Maybe I do."

You bring the scene to life through the same words, but more actions. Like so:

"Hey, Potter!" Lily called, her fingers tentative as they fell on his arm. James turned around, one eyebrow cocked. "Are you free this weekend?"

He looked at her silently, a smirk pulling at his lips. "Why? Wanna take me on a date, Evans?"

Lily's eyes glittered with the thrill of a challenge, and she pressed a little closer. "Maybe I do."

5. Make sure that you let your characters talk and breathe like normal humans, too! Let them take those heavy pauses for tense scenes, let them break off in between sentences because they can't finish a thought right or they're laughing too hard or they've just suddenly remembered something that froze them on the spot. Let them fumble and sigh and repeat words like we do IRL conversations. If your character is having an argument, and they're red in the face, they're probably not gonna say: "Why not?"

They're much more likely to say: "Well, why the hell not?!"

You can throw in a couple of "um"s and "uh"s and "er"s for those unsure few milliseconds. Em dashes are your best friends here. Sometimes, even saying that they're pausing to think or breathe or collect themselves can help bring your dialogues to life.

But yeah, don't overdo them either coz then the flow might break lol

6. Read! Read! Read! As writers, we sometimes forget to really read other stories or appreciate different characterizations and writing styles, which can make your writing growth halt. Not saying this is true for everyone, but reading more definitely doesn't do harm. And especially for us fanfic writers, this works even better, because we're writing about the same characters again and again. If you read another writer's take on it, you'll slowly start to hold onto the pattern of how a certain character speaks, or what they're likely to do. This is extremely useful when writing a dialogue. For instance, I know how headstrong and stubborn Lily is, I've read so many takes on this trait of hers. So when I write my dialogues, I know I can't have her backing down easily. She will go red in the face, she will yell, she will be in denial, and say harsh things she probably doesn't mean entirely when she's mad. But at the same time, I also know she's unflinchingly kind, so you know you have to write that she speaks in soft tones when comforting someone. She probably smiles really kindly, tucks her hair behind her ear when she's shy, confesses things with a lot of bravery, watches James from the sidelines with the softest expression (sorry, got lost in the feels for a sec)

Similarly, you've gotta make James be the loudest one in the room, the one who's voice carries over to everyone, who's absolutely unabashed in his dialogues and whose confidence shines through his words. But the same boy then turns unsure and tentative in moments where his heart is on the line. I always write his dialogues as super vulnerable during such scenes (much more than Lily's would be). A lot of desperation, pleases, promises, etc. etc.

I know this got really long, and I'm not sure if any of it was at all helpful. If you're looking for something specific, please do send in another ask! I don't mind helping out!

#asks #claudia talks writing #anon #writing tips

[clairecrive]

“Mirror, mirror” - Remus Lupin

A/n: And here’s another Remus one. I’m sorry but I’m so into him you can’t even imagine. I have to let out these feelings some way. For my Hardy’s mutuals don’t worry I’m working on an Alfie piece too *wink wink*.  Well then, hope you like this <3

Warnings: none

Summary: Secret Santa situation

Words: over 1.3k

 HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST

inspired by this tik tok video 

The Marauders usually spent Christmas time at the Potter's. It had become a tradition of sorts but only after Sirius had left his house, before that they would only meet for the annual New Year's party hosted by Euphemia and Fleamont.

However, since their group kinda merged with that of the girls after James finally succeeded in wooing Lily, they moved the opening of presents to the week before they had to go home. They would still see each other for the party but by then it would be too late to exchange gifts.

So here they were, in the common room of the Griffindor Tower, sitting in a circle in front of the fire trying to guess who their gift was from.

None remember whose idea it was but whoever it was suggested they tried doing Secret Santa this year. It was difficult to get the right gift for every one of them so this way it was easier for them and each of them still got a gift.

It was Remus' turn to open his present and guess but by the way he was looking at it, he hadn't a clue. To be fair, the shape of the wrapped object wasn't conventional. It didn't look like a book, something that everyone would have thought he was getting. Apparently, whoever his secret Santa was, they had decided to get creative.

It wouldn't have been all that difficult to guess who it was though. All it took was to glance and everyone's faces and then one would unmistakably notice the look of apprehension and anticipation on someone's face. That would have been a dead giveaway Fortunately for y/n though, no one seemed to have noticed, least of all the directly concerned one.

On top of the package, there was a small piece of paper. The writing was in black ink and elegant cursive and while the first sentence was at the top centre, the drawing of a small mirror was the one to whom the second sentence belonged to. As if he was answering to whatever had made the question.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?

But of course, the one the flowers move for."

Remus only stared at it in confusion, he was sure he had heard the rhyme before but he couldn't pinpoint when and where. Maybe it was a muggle thing y/n or Lily had said, he would always have trouble remembering that kind of things for some reason. What he didn't know though, was that the rhyme itself was a spoiler for the present laying on his lap.

Without thinking too much about its meaning though, he carefully removed the wrapping paper only to be met with... his face?

His scarred face was reflected in an orned mirror that looked old but was clearly hand made and of good quality. It wasn't just a mirror though, just like Remus wasn't just a werewolf. Not that he'd ever say it, mind you, but it was the reasoning behind y/n's gift.

On the bottom of the mirror, there were five small sunflowers. Each of them different from the other but all of them facing whoever was standing in front of the mirror. Remus could see a faint trace of the same paint used for the flowers on the frame of the mirror so he deduced that they were hand-painted recently and did not come originally with the mirror.

"Are you sure there was your name on it? Because this looks like the perfect gift for Sirius," chimed James over his shoulders.

"Oh, please. I'm not the one who spends at least ten minutes every morning fixing his hair," Sirius snickered clearly pointing at his best friend

"Well, I need to look girl for my girl don't I," he smirked wrapping his arm around Lily who was still getting used to him calling that

"You're right Prongs, not everyone can be effortlessly dashing,"

"Well, now we know why this would have been a useless present for Sirius." Rolling her eyes, y/n stated from her place beside the long-haired boy and in front of Remus who still trying to wrap his head around the identity of his secret Santa.

                                      ***                 ***                   ***

It was later in the evening, everyone had opened their presents and full from the delicious food offered by the school, they had all retreated to their rooms. Well, everyone but one of them.

Holding his present in his hands, Remus was still trying to figure out who had bought this for him. And most importantly, why. It wasn't a secret that he wasn't the most confident in his looks. The scars covering his body had never failed to remind him that there was something wrong with him. But then again, seeing as this person had taken the time to actually paint flowers on it, it meant that there was some explanation behind it. Remus couldn't see it to save his life though.

Soft footsteps broke him out of his thoughts and he turned around to see y/n standing at the end of the stairs that led to the girls' dormitories with a glass of water in her hands.

"What are you doing here?" Y/n wondered yawning

"Couldn't sleep."

"Same," she said making her way to sit next to Remus who went back at staring at the mirror.

"Do you know that sunflowers move in whatever direction the sun is?" She asked lowering the now empty glass on the floor beside the sofa.

"They do?" Remus asked in surprise making y/n hum in confirmation.

"And they all point towards you." She pointed out after a while, aiding him in the right direction seeing as he was still looking at the gift puzzled.

"So, you're saying that whoever made this for me thinks of me as the sun?" This time he turned to face her and she just shrugged her shoulders. To be fair, she was the one who had made that for him but she wasn't confident enough to just tell him. It didn't look like he liked his present much.

"Maybe this was really meant for Sirius," he muttered under his breath turning again towards the mirror. Y/n couldn't help but scoff at this, at his non-existent self-esteem.

"Is it so absurd for you to think that someone might find you beautiful?" She asked him, maybe more snappy than she ought to be, but it did manage to catch Remus' attention and the wheels in his mind to spin.

"You're my secret Santa, arent' you?" He asked and even though there wasn't really the need for her to confirm she still nodded, hiding her blushing cheeks by turning her head.

"I'm sorry though, I knew it was a bit risky of a present but I thought it was cute."

"It is, it really is," he insisted when she shot him a doubtful look, "it's very thoughtful. I just- I just didn't know you thought that way about me."

"Honestly Remus, you're the only one who's clueless about your worth."

"Do you really think so?"

"I've just compared you to the sun, do you really need to ask that?"

"Sorry, it's just that it feels like a dream." Not knowing what to say, Y/n chose not to speak but that only fueled Remus more.

"My crush comparing me to the biggest star honestly feels like a dream," he added making y/n's head snap to him

"What?"

"If I'm the sun, does that mean that you're the moon?" he asked leaning closer to her

"But the sun and the moon never meet." She complained, her eyes on his lips.

"I'll just have to catch, won't I?" he murmured now practically on her lips

"I reckon that won't be a problem." And that was the last words they exchanged before their lips met.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin imagines #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin deserves the world #harry potter #harry potter imagines #james potter x lily evens #sirius black #maruaders #marauders era #marauders imagines #marauders x reader #marauders imagine

[mggpleasedontlookhere]

pascal pt. 2

summary: spencer deals with a grueling case which reminds him of his son, and so he decides to finally come home 

word count: 1,307                                                                                     reading time aprox: 5 mins

masterlist

part 1

It has been a few days since Spencer had left, in which I had left him numerous voicemails about his whereabouts and mental status. Unfortunately I had received no intel about him, until Garcia had reassured me that he had been cooped up in Derek’s house.

It was around 2 pm in the afternoon and I had just put Pascal back in his cradle after feeding him. The sun beamed through the windows, emitting a gorgeous array of  blinding rays into the living room where I sat. A book lay on my lap, specifically ‘Persuasion’ by Jane Austen, while I sipped on a cup of tea.

Despite the serene atmosphere, harsh thoughts permeated my head space and completely betrayed the peaceful setting I was situated in. Throughout the days of the empty apartment, my mind had wondered about nothing but Spencer; even when I was cleaning, I would get caught up on a single task because I was overthinking.

Just like now, I had been staring at the same sentence for 10 minutes without a distinct clue of what it meant. My guilt had built its own narrative that took me out of my own reality. Truthfully, Pascal was the only thing that had kept me grounded in the past time. However, he also reminded me of the fight that ensued previously.

I was stressed- we were both stressed- at the time and the fight was nothing but agitation fueled nonsense. Me and Spencer had gone through so much worse compared to our argument, yet I felt like this conflict embedded itself in Spencer’s memory in a malicious manner.

On cue, the front door had opened tentatively, startling me in process.

There he was in flesh and bone: Spencer.

He didn’t look at me when he entered the living room, but he also wasn’t angry. His shoulders were slumped, his hair was a mess, and he wore a grimace on his face. These were usually the telltale signs of a ghastly event.

He had dropped his belongings beside him carelessly and made sluggish, yet earnest strides to the chair I sat in. Within a few moments, he stood in front of me with his head still hanging low. Although with an abrupt maneuver, he placed himself on his knees and laid the side of his head on my lap.

“I’m sorry” He mumbled, his voice sounding distorted and muffled.

Instinctively I laid an apprehensive hand on his head, running my fingers through the tangles of his hair. I was still disoriented from his sudden behavior, slightly baffled to what his intentions were. Although I had received clarity as I felt my lap dampen with Spencer’s tears.

“Hey Spencer, what happened?” I asked gently, lifting his chin up slightly to get a good look at him. His eyes were puffy and dark circles encompassed them, making them more apparent. His eyes were flushed in a rouge color, yet they were painted by Spencer’s melancholy tears. His lips were slightly pursed into a frown, a small habit he did whenever he was despondent.

“I’m so sorry”

He persisted in apologizing, repeating the sentence continuously as he ignored my inquiry. He muffled his head deeper into my lap, grabbing a hold of both of my wrists in the process.

“Spencer...tell me what happened” I stated, worry encompassing my entire consciousness as my heart wrenched at the state of him.

He had finally responded to my suggestion, looking up at me with his doleful eyes. “I had- there was this c-case we had and- I- just can’t” He broke down in a fit of tears, incoherent whimpers emitting from his supple lips.

“Spencer…” I pulled him up from where he knelt, before taking him into my embrace. “You can talk to me- and if you don’t want to that’s fine- but I’m here” I professed, feeling him clutch onto the sweater I was wearing.

He pulled away and wiped his nose with his sleeve, recollecting his composure to elaborate on the reasoning of his discomfort. “I- we had a case and the unsub- oh my god, you won’t believe it- he was strangling infants Y/N...INFANTS!” He explained, becoming exasperated as he came onto the topic of the activities of the criminal. I cringed as he spoke about the methodology of the abhorrent unsub, my heart wringing as I placed my shoes in the parents of the victim.

I continued to stroke his hair, knowing that was a comfort for him, as he continued with his disdainful spiel. He stumbled over a few of his words while venting, especially on the parts where he would mention the sadistic tendencies the unsub had. I noticed the volume of his tone increase whenever he’d get passionate about the subject, considering it was about the death of a child.

“And- Y/N- all I could think about was Pascal… what i- what if it was Pascal?” He lamented, gazing into my own eyes with regret. His attention flickered to the hallway where Pascal’s nursery was situated. “I can’t even b-be th-there for him, how am I-” He paused, getting choked up as his throat contracted in dread.

I was now stroking his cheek, wiping away any evidence of tears that were once there. I paid full attention to his words, observing how his facial features would contort in genuine agony. My feeling matched his own as if our emotions were intertwined or if our bodies transcended into the same being.

“I can’t even be there for him...how can I protect him from people like that” He enunciated every word with self reproach, shaking his head at his inability of being a father. Tears cascaded down his cheeks once again, hitting the sides of my thumbs as I comforted him.

“Spencer come here” I cooed, pulling him up to my level, so he was more accessible. I stood up with him, tightly holding onto his hand as I guided him into Pascal’s nursery. He followed me in apprehension despite his disquietude, baffled about my intentions. I dragged him to where Pascal laid quietly, the music box playing in the background.

A paternal smile etched on the corners of Spencer’s lips, contrasting the ferment mood he was in before. “That’s your son” I whispered, encouraging him to take a step closer to Pascal. “And I know that he loves you with all his heart despite him not understanding what that is yet” I reassured, standing beside him with my arms wrapped around his free arm.

He reached into the crib, stroking the forehead of our son lovingly. “He looks so peaceful” He stated with a smile. I nodded, watching his face morph into a more content expression. It was as if all the horrible things in the world had dissipated and all that were in the room were the sources of his bliss.

“The things you- the incredible things- you do are all for protecting the little family that we have and I’m so grateful for you in my life” I began, snuggling into his embrace as he lifted his arm up to invite me into a hug. “And you were right, I’m sorry for-”

“No Y/N- I’ve put my job over my family numerous times, so I should be the one apologizing” He sighed, pressing a longing kiss on the top of my head while we stared at the bundle of our creation in front of us.

I pressed my hand against his stomach, clutching onto him like he would disappear again. “Let’s not worry about that anymore” I suggested, closing my eyes in bliss. He nodded in agreement, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on my lips.

“I love you so much Y/N- and Pascal” He professed, pulling me into him.

“I love you too Spence- and Pascal”

-

taglist: @rexorangecouny​ @april-14-blog​ @haylaansmi @guessthatswhyiliveinhell​ @aperrywilliams​

A/N:

this was def. fun to write! i love writing about more taboo or uncommon prompts

anyway i hope you enjoyed this little story, see you soon <3

#spencer #Spencerreid #spencer reid #spencer reid icons #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid imagines #spencer x oc #spencer x reader #spencer x you #spencer x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #Matthew Gray Gubler #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler imagines #mgg #mgg fanfiction #mgg fluff #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fic

[katieraven]

SOMEBODY TO DIE FOR

Summary: Elizabeth Jones is a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent frequently on missions with the Avengers. When one mission backfires, she is left to deal with the resulting trauma and some unresolved affections for a certain Sergeant ...

Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes/OC

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, 18+ smut, language, graphic depictions of violence and torture, implication of non-con elements (on the antagonist's side), self-destructive behaviour, so much angst and trauma, eventual fluff and happy ending

Word count: 14638

Notes: Hello there, fellow Bucky simps, it is wonderful to see you.

I started writing this thing shortly after watching episodes 1-3 of The Falcon And The Winter Soldier, although this fic has nothing to do with the series at all, it simply served as inspiration. The story got a little out of hand and was originally meant to be a short, self-indulgent, silly little thing, but well, here we are. I do hope you enjoy it. If you want, you will find this fic on AO3 here.

Love,

Katie

P.S.: @sventeen-daybreak, in case you were wondering, this is the fic I was talking about that I couldn't shut up with.

P.P.S.: Also I am apparently overly motivated, I made a playlist for this, and there is a second moodboard.

~~~

The room is pitch dark. I hate the dark, hate when I can’t see. I can hear Steve in my earpiece, trying to coordinate this mess of a mission.

Boy, did it go wrong. So quickly, too. Civilians cry and scream above me in the upper levels. I hope they get them out before it’s too late.

“Steve, civilians on the second floor, western wing”, Bucky’s voice crackles over comms. I release the air I’ve been holding. They will get them out. I know they will.

“Got it”, Steve answers.

“Top floor’s clear”, Sam notes.

Carefully, I take a step forward. All my senses are heightened in the darkness. Gun out in front of me, I advance further into the room. Back against the wall. Slowly, my eyes are getting used to the dark, dusty room. It smells like old plastic and metal and reminds me of the copy rooms in the library I used to go to as a kid.

I start to make out the shapes of old computers around me. Lines of shelves full of old folders and crates. Jackpot.

“I found something in the basement. Looks like they used the hostages as a distraction, there’s all kinds of data down here.”

Steve’s answer crackles into my earpiece seconds later, “Anything of value?”

I step up to one of the hulking grey computers on the nearest table. My eyes are adjusting more and more to the darkness surrounding me. As dusty and unused the rest of the room looks, the computers are surprisingly clean.

“They’ve been used recently.”

“You alone down there, Jones?”, Bucky asks.

“Seem to be. Can’t hear anything other than the scuffle upstairs.”

“Be careful”, he just huffs, then I hear gunshots cracking in the distance.

It feels wrong. If the hostages really are a distraction, why would the basement be deserted?

“I don’t like this, Steve. It’s too quiet.” I murmur.

“Can you get in there, Jones? Find what they’ve been hiding?”

I hesitate. It’s not that I think I wouldn’t get in, but I’d have to let my guard down. The bad feeling in my stomach builds.

“Sam, can you have Redwing scan the basement for heat signatures? Make sure I really am alone down here?”

“Sure thing, J. Gimme one sec”, I hear him grunt.

I wait, gun in both hands. Then, “All clear.”

The gun placed next to me on the table, I gently lower my fingers on the keyboard. Clean, too. Not unused, though, the letters are fading. I reach into my pocket to pull out a flash drive and shove it into the PC's slot. The machine begins to whizz, then the screen lights up. Within a few seconds, I have a scanner running. Nothing.

“Seems they prepared for this kinda situation; I need more time if I’m to get something outta these things.”

“You have three minutes, then we have to get out of here. Take what you can get. Anything else we’ll have Tony have a look at later at the –“

An explosion shakes the building around me. I instinctually grab the gun. Dust falls around me like snow.

Then everything happens at once.

“This is a distraction, they’ve set the place to blow, Steve!”, Bucky shouts over comms. I curse, sticking the flash drive into my pocket.

“Get out of there, Buck! Jones, you too!”

Gun drawn, I make my way over to the door.

“Shit, Jones, you’ve got company!”, Sam shouts and I freeze.

Down the hall, I can hear the shuffling of boots. Three. Maybe four.

“How many”, I murmur into the earpiece.

“Four, more coming from the other side!”

I’m surrounded. This was a trap the entire time.

“Stay low, I’m coming.” I can hear the strain in Bucky’s voice, a grunt as he fights his way down to me.

“They blew the stairs, Bucky, we will have to find another way-“

“Five more from the east, Jones! Get out of there!”

I flatten my back against the wall. Breathe. You’re not going down like this. This is not the end I tell myself, feeling my pulse quicken. This is a trap. I am trapped.

Comms are silent. The first HYDRA agent steps through the door and I shoot him in the neck. He goes down and the next one follows. Shouting words in a language I only know broken pieces of, he dodges my bullet, going for my legs. One shot misses, I react only on reflex as I kick his legs out from under him and lock him between my thighs, firing at the next one.

“I’m coming, Jones.” Bucky huffs over comms.

“Busy”, I growl as the next guy pulls out a knife and swipes at my arm, narrowly missing the skin.

The door on the other side of the room bursts open and gunfire erupts around me, Bucky, I think, but I am only greeted by more Russian. Scrambling, I duck behind one of the office chairs for any kind of cover, bullets coming from both sides. One of them just misses by mere millimetres and punches a hole through the soft backrest of the chair.

It is then that I pick up what the agents are saying. It’s only bits and pieces, broken sentences, but I hear hostage and leverage and take her alive and then I hear winter soldier. And I understand.

“I can’t get to her, Steve, I can’t – I don’t know how –“ I hear him over comms. I can’t allow him to get down here. They can’t get him.

“We’re gonna get her out of there, Buck, just –“

“Listen to me!”, I grunt as an agent slams me to the ground and I barely roll out of the way of his fist coming down.

“They’re here for Barnes, you can’t come down here, they are only here for you, you need to leave –“

“I am not. Leaving you, Jones.” Bucky growls.

“It’s a fucking trap, Barnes! Quit playing hero and get out of –“ A bullet catches me in the abdomen and all the air leaves my lungs in a pained yelp.

“There’s too many of ‘em, Steve, she can’t take ‘em all!”, I hear Sam’s voice in my ear.

They’re closing in now. I scramble for my gun, but someone kicks it away against the wall. I curse and grab the knife from my belt, slashing at the arms that try to grab me. I lost track of the entire situation, I don’t know how many are in the room with me and the low, thrumming feeling of despair in my stomach tells me what I already know. I am not escaping this. I can’t get out.

“Leave,” I croak over comms again, trying desperately to at least have him not run into this trap like I did.

“Please, you need to leave –“ a second bullet pierces my shoulder and I hiss at the sharp pain erupting in my upper body.

“No fucking way, Jones.”

“Buck she’s right, this is exactly what they want, we have to find another way!”

A fist meets my jaw, my head snaps back against the wall and I taste blood from where I bit my tongue. I try to deflect the next blow but the knife in my hand swings wide, then someone twists it out of my grasp. I look up into cold, green eyes.

“Jones? Jones, do you copy?”, Bucky’s desperate voice shouts into my ear and I pray to anyone who will listen that he stays far away from these people, that Steve has some common sense. He can’t allow them to take him.

Another fist throws my head against the wall and I feel a light, warm trickle of blood tingling in my hairline. My vision is blurry. The faces before me swim and merge into one, then break apart into a million.

“Please”, I whisper.

“Jones? Tell me you’re still there. Please, Jones, I –“

“You need to leave, Bucky, please –“

I feel myself being lifted up from the ground, hands under my arms, my feet dragging on the ground. The wound makes my shoulders scream in pain. I think I’m crying.

“Promise he’ll be safe”, I manage to get out. A slap against my bruised cheek. “Stop talking”, one of the agents commands in broken English.

“Nobody will hurt him, Jones.” Steve answers calmly, but I can hear the fear below.

“No, Jones, no, please, Steve we have to help her –“

Muffled voices around me. Pain shooting through my shoulder and abdomen, my head pounding.

“Jones, please, answer me.”

My throat refuses to work. The agents keep dragging me down the hall. My eyes flutter closed.

“Jones?” Bucky’s desperate voice pierces my heart. But he will be safe. I know Steve will make sure of it.

“Jones, please. Lizzie. Tell me you’re still there.” Tears push past my eyelids. He will be safe, I keep telling myself.

“Baby, please, I’m begging you –“, a muffled sob shoots through comms and my heart breaks for him. There is so much I want to tell him, but I can’t bring my mouth to obey me. The air around me changes, the stuffiness of the basement gives way to something cleaner, more polished. They will take me and hold me hostage for the others to come save me. This is all part of their plan; it must have been from the beginning. I can’t allow them to use me to get to Bucky. He has worked so hard to be free from HYDRA, it can’t all have been for nothing.

I feel myself being placed on the bottom of a van, the motor rumbling through the metal beneath me. My eyes blink open. I can’t let them use me. The man next to me has his gun leisurely dangling from his hand. With all the strength left in me, I push myself up into a kneeling position and grab the weapon.

I repeat the words in my head like a mantra, I can’t let them use me, fear rushes over me as I put the gun against my temple and try to pull the trigger, but my fingers slip, the last bit of strength I had leaving me when I need it the most. The men around start to shout, the nearest one kicks the gun out of my hand. Another one pushes me to the ground. I know they will use me. And I can’t stop them.

“I’m sorry, Bucky”, I whisper before they rip the earpiece out. My last link to him gone. I sink down to the ground and something heavy hits my head, sending me into oblivion.

*

The first thing I feel is the light. It sticks pinpricks through my lids, no matter how hard I clench them shut. Artificial light piercing my brain.

The second thing I feel is the pain. My whole body aches as if I’ve been run over by a truck. I can feel the place my head hit the wall, the blood now crusty and tugging on single hairs in my neck. I feel the gunshot wounds on my shoulder and my abdomen, searing pain creeping through my body.

The third thing is the cold. They stripped me down to my underwear. I shiver against the freezing metal chair beneath me. Drawing a slow, wheezing breath I dare to open my eyes.

More sharp, artificial light. A tiled room. Someone standing over in the corner across from me, casually leaning against the wall in stark contrast to the environment. Glancing to the left and right, sensing the empty space behind me, I seem to be sitting in the middle of the chamber. I breathe in and out again, coughing as the air hitches in my dry throat.

“Oh, you have awoken”, a voice rasps in broken English and it takes me a few seconds to realise it belongs to the person across from me. The man saunters over to my chair and stops just short of touching my knees. I have to look up at him. He wears a lazy smile and his green eyes glint in the harsh lighting. My mind flashes back to earlier in the basement. The same cold, green eyes. His tac suit has been exchanged for something more put together, a collared shirt and suit pants. He feels overdressed.

He curls a calloused finger around my chin and lifts my face higher until my neck hurts from the unnatural angle. The muscles in my shoulder twitch and a pained whine escapes my lips. It only broadens his smile. I hate myself for it. I want to scream at him, claw his eyes out, punch him, anything. But my body won’t obey me, and I’m strapped to a chair.

His fingers stroke my chin and I turn my head away to somehow try and escape his touch. “Now now, don’t get all pouty on me.”

I keep my eyes locked onto a chipped tile in the wall. It has the tiniest piece broken out of it, in the top right corner.

“Pretty thing”, the agent whispers above me and a chill runs down my spine. I don’t want to know what comes next.

His hand slides over to the back of my head where my hair is still caked in blood.

The crack in the tile almost has the shape of a star if you look at it the right way. Like the star that used to be on Bucky’s arm, my delirious brain thinks. God, I hope he stays as far away from these people as possible.

“They will come get you, pretty girl, and then he will be ours again.” Please god, make him stay away from them.

“Maybe we can have him kill you. Just for fun.”

He told me what they did to him, once. On a balcony at Stark Tower, at three a.m.

“Can’t sleep, huh?” Bucky’s metal fingers clink onto the railing as he steps out to the balcony.

I shake my head. “Nah.”

The sounds of New York at night-time are rushing below us like a river, dampened only by the height we are standing at.

“Tough mission?”, he asks, and I nod absentmindedly. Too much death. Too many casualties. It was supposed to be a stealth mission in an empty warehouse and then suddenly it was outside. Crowded. The screams and looks of terror are still burnt into my brain.

I sigh and turn around, elbows propped up on the railing. I look over to him on my left.

“And you? Tough mission?”, I repeat his question.

He shakes his head. “Nightmare.”

His eyes are underlined in dark purple, his hair a mess, he is standing out here in a pair of sweatpants and a dark shirt. Must have just gotten up. He notices me studying him and looks over. I lift an eyebrow.

“Wanna talk about it?”

I can see him hesitate. His eyes dart over my face. “Intense stuff. Wouldn’t wanna keep you awake with it, too.”

I snort. “Not like I can sleep anyways.”

My eyes fall to the scratch on my arm. “I just …” Sometimes I feel like I don’t suffer enough for all the lives I fail to save. I don’t dare tell him.

“I heard what happened today.” His low rumbling voice smoothes over a rough patch on my heart, and suddenly the lump in my throat is just the tiniest bit smaller.

“There weren’t supposed to be civilians.”

I close my fists and feel the familiar sting of the nails pressing into the soft skin of my palm.

“It was supposed to be a quick mission. In, out. Just the files. No death. And especially no civilians.”

He extends a hand to my left fist and carefully pries it open. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

I look at the red crescent moons my nails left in my skin and can’t help but remember the red hole in a young woman’s forehead. My stomach lurches and I press my hand over my mouth, biting my tongue. Tasting blood.

“It’s not your fault.”

I want to believe him so, so bad.

“How do you know?” My eyes search his face for something, anything to reassure me in the fact that I couldn’t have saved them.

“How do you know I couldn’t have done better?”

His fingers still cradle mine and rub calming circles over my hand.

“Because I know you by now, Jones. And I know you always give your all.”

But it’s not enough.

“You can’t do more than that, Jones. None of us can. All we can do is do our best and save as many people as possible.”

The screams still won’t leave my brain, though.

“I see them when I close my eyes, Barnes. I see their scared faces, their still faces, empty eyes turned upwards and I can’t –“ A violent sob breaks out from my body and I curl my arms around my chest, trying to keep myself from falling apart.

Bucky slowly walks over until he’s standing in front of me, gently placing his hands on my arms.

“Jones. Hey.”

But all I hear is screams of innocent people, all I see is lives cut short. My knees give.

He catches me as I fall and then we’re sitting across from each other on the metal floor.

“Sometimes I wonder if I deserve to have this, Barnes, to live, while all their lives ended before their time”, I manage to push out. I never told anyone this before. But I feel like he would understand.

“Hey, look at me, J.”

I try to steady my breathing and look up into his slate grey eyes, cool and soothing. For a few seconds, we just sit there silently, no words, as the hiccup sobs die down slowly.

“This is our job, Jones, we try to save as many people as we can. Think about how many more had died if you hadn’t been there.”

“None, Barnes. If I hadn’t been there, if there had been no mission, they would have just continued living their lives.”

He sighs.

We don’t talk for a while. Above us the dark night sky of New York, below us the bustling nightlife.

“You still wanna know about my nightmare?”

I look up at him, pulling my arms tightly around myself. And nod.

With a sharp twinge of pain, I get pulled out of my memories.

“You listen when I talk to you, bitch.”

Three other men have moved into the cell, one of them stepping close to the agent in front of me and quietly talking to him. I can’t make out the words, but as the agent steps back, the man before me is smiling a violent smile. I can see a chipped front tooth.

“They will come get you, darling, they just need a little motivation.”

I feel the punch coming. It still hits me unprepared, head flying backwards as pain blooms from my jaw. My ears are ringing.

The agent pushes back his sleeves and pulls a phone out from his pockets.

“Look alive”, he trills as the sharp light of a camera flash hits me. I squint too late, shapes dancing over my closed lids. A second punch hits me, the eye this time. Suit-guy chuckles gleefully as he slowly stalks around me. When he crouches down next to the chair, I shiver, his lips against my ear.

“You know what we will do now, darling?”

I couldn’t answer if I wanted to. Flashes of torture ghost through my head and sickening fear crawls up the walls of my stomach.

“We’re gonna call your friends and see if that doesn’t quicken their pace. I don’t wanna sit around here waiting for Mr. Barnes to show up. We got work to do.”

My stomach lurches. “No”, I cry, and “Please”, but he just grins down at me menacingly, holding the phone out in front of him.

The room is silent except for the beeping of the call. He put the phone on speaker.

“Who is this”, Bucky’s voice shoots out after not more than three seconds and I have to bite my tongue to not cry out.

“I’m sure you figured that out by yourself, Sergeant. We have something you want. Come and get it.”

Biting my lip, I shake my head. Please don’t come. Please.

“Where the fuck is she”, Bucky growls through the speaker, and I can almost see him clench his teeth.

“Oh, don’t worry, she is right here. Darling, won’t you say hello to your friends?”

I press my lips together and glare at him. In the background, I can hear low voices, Steve, and Tony too.

“I’m not going anywhere until I know she is alive.”

One of the agents steps behind me and places both hands on my shoulders, thumb pressing into the wound. I feel the bullet under my skin, wedged deep into the flesh. White-hot pain shoots through my body and I wince, desperately trying to be quiet. I can’t give them what they want.

“Listen to me, Barnes. Here’s what is gonna happen. You will come to a location I will send you shortly, and you will come alone. You won’t put up a fight and then, maybe, we will let her go.”

The cold, thin blade of a knife is placed against my throat and my breath hitches. My nails push into my palms as I try to stay quiet, refusing to make this any easier for them.

But then the agent pushes his thumb back into my shoulder. And I can’t move away because of the blade at my throat, and I try, I try so hard not to make a sound, but the pain is blinding, and I cry out.

“See, she is here. Stubborn though, I see why you like her –“

“I will kill each and every one of you. I will make you suffer until you wish you never set foot on this godforsaken continent.“

“Fine by me. As long as you come alone. We can take you, Barnes. You’re not invincible.”

And with that, he ends the call.

The knife is removed from my throat. The thumb from my shoulder. And I hate myself. I should have pushed against the blade. They would’ve stopped, they need me alive. Instead, I caved. Made him hear me.

Because I know he will come. But I also know he will be blind with fury, and they will take him, and make him their Soldier again. All because of me.

“See, darling, that wasn’t too hard, now, was it?”

Slow, hot tears roll over my cheeks. He has the audacity to wipe them away.

“It’s amazing what love can do to people. Almost too easy to break him, now.”

I scoff. Love. “The fuck do you know about love”, I snarl at him, and he smiles, as he crouches down again.

“Enough to see it in people. Enough to use it to my advantage.”

“He doesn’t love me.”

He downright wheezes with laughter, and I hear the others chuckle underneath their breath.

“Sure he doesn’t. And here I was, thinking you were smart …”

He doesn’t love me. I’m his partner, part of the team, he’d do this for anyone. We stick our heads out for one another, it’s just how this works.

“I guess I should thank you, darling”, he muses as he gets up and saunters off to the door. “You made this almost too easy for us. He’s gonna walk right into our trap, the fool. All heart-eyes and blind.”

He stops before leaving and turns around in the doorway. “The best part of all this is that he thinks he’s saving you.”

I look at him, head pounding.

“He thinks we’ll let you go when he’s here. I don’t see why we should. Two flies with one stone, you know. No, we’re gonna bring the Soldier out, and then he will kill you. Slowly, and painfully. See, that’s the best part. He knows what he’s doing, deep down. He’ll know. He just won’t be able to do anything against it.”

With that, he turns to leave.

“Hey, Viper”, one of the agents calls after him as they begin to leave the room.

“Lemme play with her a bit?”

The “Viper” seems to contemplate, before shrugging.

“Sure, why not. Just don’t break her. We don’t want her dead too early now, do we?”

A shuddering fear runs up my spine. The others leave the room, save the one who asked. As he closes the door behind him, a wicked smile on his face, for the first time I truly understand what HYDRA does to hostages.

*

My throat is hoarse and dry from screaming. Every single muscle in my body is aching, the sharp pain of the gunshots burnt down to a dull, rolling pain. I can barely keep my eyes open, drifting in and out of consciousness.

The agent before me grins violently, teeth bared. He opens his mouth, but I can’t hear, it feels like my head is wrapped in cotton. He drags a knife along my shoulder, my arms, down to my wrist, just enough to make me feel it. The cut is shallow, a burning line along my body. It barely registers. I feel like I am floating above myself, looking at the scene from a stranger’s perspective. Out of touch. Aloof.

He slaps me. I know my head flies to the side, I know blood spatters onto the ground. I know all this. But I don’t feel it. My wrists are still bound. They’ve gone numb by now.

After the first hour, I couldn’t cry anymore. After the second hour, I couldn’t scream anymore.

He left me then, for a while, leaving me to drift into merciful, dreamless unconsciousness. Then he was back. He looks like a shark in bloodied water, frenzied, thirsty for the pain he greedily drinks out of my voice, my eyes, the way my body reacts without me having any say in it.

I lose track of time. The windowless room, tiled top to bottom, claws at my sense of orientation and slowly pulls the ground from under my feet. It feels like days since I last saw daylight.

This was not how the mission was supposed to go. It was supposed to be a small thing. Minor hostage situation, yes, high stakes, sure, but nothing the four of us couldn’t handle. Nothing HYDRA, just a drug cartel. We went in fully prepared. But then it went tits up, too many opponents, more than there were supposed to be.

My nose registers a sharp smell, something wet touches my nose. My conscience is being dragged back to earth, to this broken room, this broken body. My eyes flutter open.

“Don’t you fall asleep on me, pretty.” He is back. His shark grin broadens as he sees my eyes register him.

“Can’t blame the Soldier for wanting a piece of this.” His fingers slide along my face, curl around my chin to lift it up so I look him in the eyes.

“You know, I been thinkin’, why should we let him kill a pretty thing like you right away? It’s not like we get girls this easy ‘round here often. Gotta use the opportunity.”

My stomach roils and I can taste bile in the back of my throat. Please, no. Not this. Please.

His hands let go of my jaw and glide lower, over the sweat-and-blood-soaked underwear they graciously left me, and he pushes my legs apart. I am shaking, I realise, I can’t even stop myself. Cold terror washes over me at the sight of his hungry eyes. He reaches out to grab my hips.

And then everything happens all at once.

A metal arm wraps around his throat, lifting him up away from me and sending his hands scrambling to free himself.

“Touch her again and I will rip you limb from limb.”

The arm sends him flying against the wall, a sickeningly wet thud as his head impacts.

And then he’s there. I must be hallucinating. He is there, and he is alive, and he is himself. He is there. Bucky’s there.

“Fuck, Lizzie, please tell me you’re still in there. Please.” He sinks to his knees and cups my face gently, so gently. It can’t be real. I can only stare at him, drink him in, some kind of fever dream.

“Baby”, he whispers. His hands reach behind me to cut the rope they bound me with, and the lack of suspense sends me falling. But he catches me. I can feel his hands keep me from crashing to the floor and a tiny piece of me returns. He is real. He is here, Bucky is here, and they didn’t make him the Soldier again and he came. He came to save me.

“We need to hurry, this place will be crawling with agents in a few.” I recognise Steve’s voice and as my eyes blink into focus, I see him guarding the door.

They came for me. I’m still shaking, I realise, as I feel my teeth chatter against each other. Bucky’s eyes look heartbroken.

“Can you stand, Lizzie?”

I don’t trust my knees. I don’t trust my voice, either. Bucky takes that as a no.

“I will have to carry you, baby. Is that okay? We have to get you out of here.”

“Buck”, Steve’s voice is cold with warning.

I nod. I can do that, so I nod, the tiniest movement. But he understands.

Slowly, he stands back up, hands still holding me so I don’t double over, and he ever so carefully picks me up, cradling me against his chest. I feel his steady heartbeat through is tac suit. It feels like it slowly drums the life back into my body, pushing the numbness further and further away. God, my feet are cold. My whole body is cold. No wonder I’m shaking.

He carries me out of the room with Steve walking ahead. I curl up against him, closing my eyes against the bright neon lights above. I am safe now, right?

Right?

Shots echo in front of us. Bucky pulls me against him further.

“It’s okay, Lizzie. Everything will be okay. I got you now.”

“All clear”, Steve comments, catching his shield, and we continue. My head is thrumming. The feeling slowly returns to my body but with it returns the pain.

We round a corner and Bucky curses, ducking back around it and shielding me from the gunfire ahead. His metal arm pushes against my wounded shoulder and I cry out, cold sweat coating my forehead. Then it’s quiet again. Inside, my head feels like it’s about to burst.

We round another corner. Fast footfalls follow, then an impact. We tumble and he pulls me against his chest as we fall, but my head meets the ground with an angry thud. Black dots dance over my cloudy vision and Bucky snarls on top of me. The sounds of fighting ensue. I can only lay there, breathing shallow, feeling warm blood trickle down my head, wound newly torn open.

Then he is above me again, hands cradling my face.

“No, Lizzie, stay with me”, he whispers as my eyes flutter shut.

“You have to stay with me, please. Baby, please. Look at me.”

But the warm darkness is so welcoming, if I could just let myself fall …

“Lizzie, baby … please, I need you to stay with me.”

His hands pick me up so carefully, pulling me close against his chest again.

“I need you to stay awake, Lizzie. Please.”

I want to, so bad. But I can’t will my eyes to open. The darkness is all over me now. And I let go.

*

Dark, thick boots in front of me, barking voices, a hand grabbing me by the throat and pulling me up, up, up, until I look into a shark-toothed smile again.

“When I’m done with you, pretty, you’re gonna wish we’d let him kill you.”

Tears roll over my cheeks as he grabs my shoulders, knees giving out from under me as I crash onto the ground, the pain, god the pain, I can’t take it anymore, it’s too much, please let it end, please –

I startle awake, hands frantically pushing up until I’m sitting. Breathing heavy, fists curled up into something soft. The room is warm, welcoming even. There’s no sound apart from my breaths. I am alone. That’s good. Nobody can hurt me if I’m alone.

Then the pain registers and my upper body implodes. I gasp and my arms give out from under me, having me fall back down to the bed.

There’s a knock at the door. It startles me, and immediately I am on high alerts again.

But HYDRA wouldn’t knock.

“Yes?”, I try to say, and wince at how quietly and croaky it comes out.

Nevertheless, the door opens, revealing a tousled head of red hair. Natasha.

“Hey, Jones.” She’s quiet as if trying not to spook me. Like a wounded animal. “How are you?”

I look around the room. This must be Stark Tower. The peace is in such harsh contrast to the last … hours? Days? I don’t know. It doesn’t feel real. How am I supposed to know if this is happening? If it’s really, truly happening, or if I’m just hallucinating? But Bucky saved me. Right?

“Is this real?”, I rasp out. Natasha studies me carefully.

“Will you believe me if I say yes?”

I don’t know, will I? But would it be so bad if it was a dream? It’s so quiet.

“Where are the others?”, I ask. Where is Bucky?, I mean.

“Safe.” She understands. “Strewn all over Stark Tower, working to shut that base down they kept you at.” She slowly approaches me, studying my face.

I try and carefully sit up, much to the dismay of my ruined muscles.

“How did – why were – what happened?”, I try to form a coherent sentence.

“Well, for starters, going in alone anywhere in this kind of situation is a no-go, so fuck that.” She wears a half-smile, pulling a chair over so she can sit, far enough from the bed to give me my space.

“I’m not gonna bore you with the details here, but long story short, someone kidnapped our friend, and we kicked their asses.”

I attempt a smile. Not sure if it works, if it doesn’t, Natasha doesn’t let on.

My throat is dry. I can’t remember the last time I drank something, I realise, right before my lungs explode into a coughing fit. The gunshot wounds pulse red-hot pain through my body and I collapse onto the bed again.

“It’s okay, Liz, here. You’ll be okay.” She reaches over and grabs a glass of water from the nightstand, before handing it to me and carefully stabilising my upper body. The cool water runs through my parched mouth and somehow it calms my panicked nerves.

Right as she places the glass back on the nightstand, the door opens again, gently, and a small whimper leaves my throat as I see him. He’s safe. He’s here with me and he is safe.

His eyes widen. “Thank god you’re awake”, he breathes and rushes over, falling to his knees next to the bed.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

My hands reach out to him and he grabs my fingers, carefully pulling them close. Something inside me shatters.

“You’re safe, you’re okay, thank god you’re okay, I –“, my words fail me as I break into sobs, “I failed you, Bucky, it was all my fault, I –“

He looks up into my eyes. “Shh. Don’t say that. I’m just glad you’re here. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

*

It’s better, now. I don’t question my sanity anymore, my reality. When I wake up at night, drenched in cold sweat, asking FRIDAY who is on my floor and she tells me it’s Steve, or Natasha, or Bucky, I believe her. I know they can’t get to me anymore.

But I have gotten wary. Paranoid, even. Sometimes I ask FRIDAY to list the people in the tower over, and over, and over again. She does. An AI’s patience, I guess. I still wake up in the middle of the night, throat screamed hoarse, seeing monsters in the shadows. Or in the too-bright lights. Feel phantom fingers press into my shoulder and force my legs apart.

The gunshots have healed well, thanks to the skilled hands of the Stark Tower’s med bay. They still hurt, sometimes. It’ll be a wrong movement and a twinge of pain will shoot through my shoulder or my stomach. I’ll grimace and pull through.

There’s new rules, too. Nobody goes in alone. Anywhere. Ever.

And I’ve been avoiding Bucky. He spent the first days keeping vigilant watch, at my bedside or outside the door. His absence hurts somewhere deep inside of me, a deeper pain than the gunshots, something the pain killers can’t reach. But I can’t look him in the eyes. If I hadn’t gone into the basement alone, none of this would have happened. I wouldn’t have endangered him.

There is an empty feeling in my chest that I will start to notice whenever it gets too quiet, whenever my brain has time to roam. I miss him. I miss our late night balcony talks when we both can’t sleep. I miss the bickering at the start and end of successful missions. But I can’t go back on missions yet. And worse than missing him is the guilt.

Everyone, and I mean everyone, told me it wasn’t my fault. Steve got all emotional. Fury short and to the point. Natasha with a sharp look in her eye. She understood. To Sam I almost spilled my heart out, he has that effect on people. And of course, Bucky. Again, and again. In the first days, when he didn’t leave me for longer than two hours, and later on, too. The few times we do meet in a hallway, when my eyes look anywhere but into his. I know he says it to ease my mind. I know that he probably even believes it, but I can’t.

He told me, once, that he remembers every single person he killed while under HYDRA’s influence. Every target, every civilian that got into the crossfire. He told me of the torture they put him through. The cryo. And because of me, he almost fell back into their grasp. And I just can’t make myself not feel guilty about it.

Some days I wordlessly stand on Sam’s doorstep, running shoes in hand, hair in a ponytail. I think he understands the need to run from my thoughts, from my brain writhing and clawing at itself. I know he wants to talk about it. He knows I don’t. And he won’t push.

The gym is empty as I step into it quietly, pulling the door closed behind my back. My eyes roam around the room.

“FRIDAY, anyone in here with me?”

A short pause, then: “You are currently the only person on this floor, Agent Jones.”

I breathe out the air I held in anticipation. I go look for a place slightly out of sight from the door, that still allows me to quickly observe the entire room. Waiting for another few seconds, I ask FRIDAY again. Still alone. Just me.

Mechanically, I go through stretches. Lunges. Sit-ups. I don’t listen to music while working out anymore, too distracting. Too easy to be surprised. Instead, I concentrate on the rhythm of my heartbeat.

Still, my mind wanders. The last couple of missions have not been great. Mostly successful, yes, but too many casualties. Not to mention the last one. I was clumsy. Careless. Not quick enough, not strong enough. Not good enough.

I find a punching bag and let loose on it. Throwing punch after punch, blow after blow, until I’m panting and sweat is dripping off my forehead, plastering strands of hair onto my skin.

Next punch.

Crying hostages.

My fist flies into the bag again.

A young woman running in front of me, staggering in her panic, then a stray bullet hits her in the head. Her vacant eyes come to rest on me as she falls.

My knuckles curl and I punch the bad again.

Bucky’s voice over my earpiece, pleading, begging.

“Jones, please. Lizzie. Tell me you’re still there.”

Skin connecting with fabric.

A green-eyed agent, sneering down at me.

“You made this almost too easy for us. He’s gonna walk right into our trap, the fool.”

I grit my teeth and my fists meet the bag again.

And again.

And again.

Dark spots dancing before my eyes.

I continue. It’s all my fault. It wouldn’t have happened if I had been stronger.

One more punch.

If I had been faster.

I feel myself swaying.

I’m not good enough.

*

I’m not out for long. My first thought when I come to results in a frantic question to FRIDAY.

The AI answers patiently. “You are currently the only person on this floor, Agent Jones.”

Same answer as always. It’s soothing, a sense of normality. Of routine. I take a look at the clock. Nine p.m. Time to take a shower and go to bed, I suppose. Not that I expect to be able to sleep. Walking to the elevator, I contemplate having Natasha knock me out cold so that I can for once experience the benevolent veil of unconsciousness.

Halfway up to my floor, the elevator stops and the doors open. Immediately I step into a defensive stance before I realise it’s just Steve. Just sweet, kind Steve, whose heart I can see break in slow motion when he sees my reaction.

“Hey, Liz.”

I sigh and my shoulders drop.

“You okay?”

I’m not sure if I will ever be the same. I’m not sure if I will ever not flinch anymore when someone I didn’t spot moves too quickly. I’m not sure if I can ever look Bucky in the eyes again. I’m not sure –

“Yeah.” I attempt a smile, but it crumbles before it can become convincing.

The elevator picks up speed and Steve leans against the wall.

“I feel like things between you and Buck have been … strained, lately.”

Putting on my best façade, I throw an innocent look his way.

“What do you mean?”

He sighs, lifting his eyebrows at me, but indulging my little act.

“The two of you were different, before. Partners. Joking around, and I do understand it’s hard to fall back into it after what you went through, but Bucky …”

My eyes snap towards him.

“… I don’t know. It’s not my place to say anything.”

Whatever the hell that is supposed to mean.

“Everything is fine between Barnes and me, Steve. Same as before. I just don’t go on missions yet, so we don’t see each other as often. Right?”

He studies me for a moment, arms crossed.

“Right.” I can tell he doesn’t believe me.

When the elevator stops again, we’re on my floor, and I make my way out of the doors. Just before they slide closed again, Steve puts his foot between them.

“Liz, wait.”

I turn around, back against the wall.

“I just …” He struggles with what to say and what to keep to himself.

“Don’t let this ruin something good. Don’t let them break you, still.”

There is an ache in my chest. Deep-rooted, a few inches below my left shoulder.

“Yeah”, I manage. He studies me for a few more seconds, then he steps back and lets the elevator close between us. As soon as he is out of sight, my shoulders slump forward. Don’t let them break you, he says. They already did.

*

I wake up with a gasp. Silent terror behind my eyes. My brain making up scenarios.

Bucky came alone in this one. Unarmed. Prepared to offer himself up for me to be let go, but I know they won’t. They told me.

So they take him, and break him, and then they let him loose on me. I don’t have enough strength to run, to fight. Not like I could.

He is upon me quickly, metal arm around my throat, squeezing until there are tears escaping from my eyes.

But his eyes are his own. Tortured look behind the cold façade, eyes wide in terror. I can see he knows what he is doing. The panic of not being able to stop his body from complying.

I shake my head. Brush my hair off my sweaty face. The usual question to FRIDAY. The usual answer.

My gym clothes are still lying in a pile on the ground next to my bed and I slip into them. Need to get the images out of my head. Try to, at least.

The gym is empty. No surprise, if I am honest, it’s the middle of the night. The same time Bucky and I used to meet on a balcony, each fighting our own ghosts.

I find the punching bag again. It feels good to have an impact on something, an ounce of control over something that can’t hurt me. My muscles still burn from the last time I was down here. The bag gets pushed to the left, to the right, and I feel the skin on my knuckles heat up. Then crack open. The sharp pain crawling over my hands feels good, too. It is nothing, compared to the pain I put innocent people through. To the pain I almost put Bucky through.

The familiar dark, dancing spots creep into my vision. They beckon me with honeyed lips to give in, and I grit my teeth through the oncoming dizziness.

Behind me, a door falls shut, and I flinch and whirl around, staggering at the too-quick movement. Dark hair, slate eyes, underlined in violet. Bucky, my brain registers, before my vision blacks out for a second and I feel my knees connect with the mat below me.

He’s there in an instant, hands steadying my shoulders. The touch sends shivers down my arms. My vision clears again, and I attempt a carefree expression. The look on his face tells me he is not convinced.

“It’s fine. I’m fine”, I try to tell him with a reassuring smile.

He is on his knees before me, reluctantly letting my shoulders go. Eyes still studying my face, he huffs out a breath of air.

“So are you gonna tell me what you’re doing down here in the middle of the night?” He sits back onto his heels, still kneeling on the ground. I want to reach for him, touch him, pull him so close to me that nobody will ever get to him. Instead,, I just curl my hands into fists and cock an eyebrow at him.

“What about you?”

“Can’t sleep”, he explains, and I shrug.

“Well, there you have it.”

I can’t look directly into his eyes. He is too good at reading people, something born from trauma and survival instinct.

His hands are resting on his folded legs, metal fingers calm on top of his right hand. He’s wearing his “I woke up in the middle of the night and can’t sleep” outfit, sweatpants and a black shirt. Reminds me of the nights spent talking on the balcony. It’s like HYDRA took this from me, too, this small refuge after a day spent trying and failing to save people. The time he spent putting all the pieces of myself back together.

“So you go down here and punch a bag until you collapse?”

I shrug again, trying to keep the raging storm that is my mind inside for nobody else to see. His shoulders sag a little and he angles his head so that he can look me in the eyes.

“Can you at least look at me, Lizzie?”

Something compels me to do so. Maybe it’s the pet name. He is the only one who ever calls me Lizzie, everyone else says Liz, or J, or Agent Jones. Bucky usually only uses it when we’re alone. My mind races back to a few weeks ago.

“Jones, please. Lizzie. Tell me you’re still there.”

His broken voice replays in my head.

“Baby, please, I’m begging you –“

I only just now realise. He never called me baby before, either. I feel like I’m missing something, like the pieces are there, just out of my reach. It frustrates me.

“You’re not fine, are you?”, his smooth voice is the last straw, gently pushing into the walls I put around my heart in the last few weeks until they burst. There’s a lump the size of a tennis ball in my throat as my breath hitches and my shoulders sag and then hot tears spill out of my eyes and I can’t stop it from happening.

“Lizzie, no, hey, come here.” He holds his arms wide open and waits for me to give him permission to touch me. No pressure, just an offer. I feel my hands reach out and he wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer to his chest. My fists clench into the soft fabric of his shirt and I curl up tighter around my aching chest. He just holds me. Gentle hands stroking soothingly over my back, up, down, up again, down again. And fuck, he feels like home.

The sobs die down into quiet hitching breaths, dull stitches in my sides. Bucky remains where he is, not saying a word, just holding me.

“I feel like they broke me”, I finally gather the air to whisper into his chest. He presses his lips against my hairline, silently waiting for me to continue.

“I’m sorry, Bucky.”

He stirs, then.

“What for?”

“I let you down.”

It’s the first time I am saying this to anyone. I don’t know what it is that makes me tell him, of all people. But it feels right.

“No, Lizzie, you didn’t.”

I look up, blinking the tears away until I can see his eyes.

“I put you in danger. They almost got to you because of me.”

Bucky sighs. “They almost got to me through you. Not because. None of this was your fault, you know?”

I roll my eyes. “Everyone keeps telling me it wasn’t my fault and yet I let them take me, and I was the reason you came to them and for some reason, you got fucking lucky enough to not fall right back into their hands!”

His face is calm, collected, even, but I see the pain in his eyes.

“None of that happened because of you. It happened to you. What were you supposed to do, fight ten of them and get out unscathed? Nobody does that, Lizzie. It was a damn trap.”

I fist my hands into his shirt. “And I walked right fucking into it, didn’t I?”

“We all did. I shouldn’t have let you go alone.”

“You don’t get it, do you? It was my fault. I knew something was wrong and I stayed down there in that goddamn basement!”

“What did you do wrong?”

I pause. He looks directly at me, eyes locked onto mine. “Tell me what you did wrong.”

Something inside me cracks.

“I let them take me even though I knew they would use me to get to you.”

My fingers are still closed into his shirt. “I tried to fight them off, I even tried to –“ My voice breaks and I swallow against the lump in my throat.

“I knew they needed me alive, so I …”

His eyes are studying me carefully and I can see the slow realisation of what I am about to tell him dawn in the back of his mind.

“One of them was careless with his gun. I tried to put a bullet through my head”, I whisper, not daring to look at him.

He inhales sharply. “Lizzie, no …”

“I was too slow.”

“Baby …”, he whispers, in a voice I have never heard from him before. He sounds small. Broken.

His arms wrap around me carefully, as if scared I might shatter if he pushes too hard. His scent envelops me, pines and leather and metal, underlined by clean linen and sweat. It’s strangely soothing.

“Please promise me you won’t do that again. I can’t – I wouldn’t even know what to do without you.”

My hand flattens against his chest, heart pounding underneath.

“It wasn’t your fault”, I whisper against him.

“No, it was. They were there for me. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

I want to grab him by the shirt and shake him, remind him it’s not his fault, it’s them, that he never did anything wrong. Instead, I just shake my head.

“We weren’t careful enough, Lizzie. We should all have expected it to be a trap. Me, Steve, Sam, too.”

“Don’t say that”, I mutter into his shirt.

“Can I tell you something?”

I nod.

“Can you look at me while I do? Please?”

I sigh, but look up at him, skin itchy from the drying tears.

“You can’t keep putting the blame on yourself whenever something goes wrong.”

My shoulders slump.

“It doesn’t make anything better, you hear me? It doesn’t help anyone. It just makes you sink deeper and deeper into your guilt. And trust me, I know what that’s like.”

He pries my fingers from his shirt and gently folds them open. His thumbs smooth over my palms, circling around the crescent scars in the soft skin.

“There is enough pain in this world, Lizzie. And you’re putting yourself through enough already. Don’t blame yourself for what happens to me, too. It’s not your fault.”

When I fall into bed later, it’s the first time in weeks that I sleep through. Probably just the exhaustion.

*

I lie awake again, the next day. This time I never even fell asleep. There’s too many faces when I close my eyes. Too many screams. The voice of a green-eyed viper.

A noise outside my room spooks me into sitting up. Slow, sluggish steps on the corridor. They stop right in front of my door, then it’s silent.

“FRIDAY, who else is on this floor?”

The AI answers dutifully. “Currently, you and Sergeant Barnes are on this floor, Agent Jones.”

Bucky? It must be Bucky outside, then, anything else security would have picked up on.

A few seconds later, there is a quiet knock. I rub my eyes and fully sit up in the sheets before I answer. The door opens, just far enough for him to stick his head through.

“Heard that you’re awake. Can I come in?” His eyes look haunted.

“Sure.”

I pull the blanket closer to my body as he kneels down next to the bed.

“You can sit on the bed, you know?”

His chin resting on his left arm, he slightly cocks one eyebrow. “I did not.”

But he doesn’t move. He just looks at me and I at him, until his intense gaze gets too much to hold. My eyes roam over his face, the stubble on his chin, the curve of his jaw, the worried lines on his forehead.

“I’m so glad you’re safe”, he whispers, and my eyes return to his.

Something compels me to reach out and run my fingers through his hair, along his temple. His eyelids flutter closed. My palm comes to rest along his cheek, and he melts into the touch, my thumb caressing his cheekbone.

We just stay like this for a few minutes, for once not battling our inner demons. Savouring the peace we have in this moment, knowing the other is safe here.

It’s me who breaks the silence.

“Why’d you sit outside my door?”

He blinks a few times, adjusting to the soft lighting in my room, too bright after the darkness behind closed eyelids.

“Had a bad dream. Wanted to make sure nobody would hurt you”, he mumbles against my wrist. He lifts his right hand and I reach for it, fingers intertwining.

“I’m okay”, I whisper and he squeezes my hand.

“Sometimes I ask FRIDAY if you’re safe”, he admits and I smile. Seems we both use the AI as a support system. Although that’s what she’s there for, I guess.

He’s still kneeling before me and I shake my head.

“Come on, the ground’s a little cold, don’t you think?” I pat the blanket next to me.

“You sure?”, he mumbles and I nod. He sits up, still holding my hand. “I wouldn’t want to – “

I roll my eyes, “I offered, Bucky”, and shoot him a small smile. He shrugs and smiles back, standing up and crawling across the blanket to where I’m leaning against the headboard. The warmth he emits slowly engulfs me and it feels so safe, so much like home, that I move closer to him almost subconsciously.

“C’mere”, he mumbles and tentatively puts his right arm around my shoulders. He pulls me closer until my head lies on his chest. Intuitively, I inhale his scent, so undeniably Bucky, and sigh. Slowly, we both sink deeper and deeper into the bedding until we’re both lying down, and I curl one leg over his, foot threading between his shins. My arm comes to rest over his stomach and I feel his slow, steady breathing. It feels so right, my body against his. Like we’re made for each other.

I feel tempted to shake my head at myself for that thought. I’m tired. No idea how late it is but considering he had woken up, it has to be at least midnight. Probably past that.

“Can you promise me something?” His low voice rumbles in his ribcage, amplified by my ear pressed against his chest.

“Hm?”, I answer, half asleep.

“Next time you wanna punch a bag until your legs give out, tell me?”

I huff against his shirt. There’s a part of me that wants to scream I’m not worth his time, his concern, but the other part just misses him so fucking bad. And I’m just glad to have him back, so I nod.

“Good. Thank you. Now try and sleep, you need it.”

His steady breathing gently lulls me in.

*

The bed next to me is empty when I wake up. Immediately, I jump, heart pounding, but then I hear the shower running. He’s still here. I try to calm myself down again. The shower is turned off, and a few moments later Bucky walks through the door, hair still wet, wearing only his sweatpants. He pauses, towel in hand. A few stray droplets of water catch the light, glistening across his bare chest. I can’t help but follow the trail of muscles down, down, until my eyes get caught on the waistband of his sweatpants. I blink.

“’morning”, I rasp, clearing my throat.

A grin ghosts over his face, and I swear there is a smug glint in his eyes. “Good morning to you, too. Sleep well?”

A blush creeps up my cheeks and I avert my eyes, stretching to cover up my embarrassment. “Yup.” Had to get caught ogling my team partner, didn’t I.

“For once”, I add.

His smile turns softer then, and he sits down on the edge of the bed. “I’m glad.”

We just sit there for a while, stealing glances at each other’s faces. After what feels like an eternity, he clears his throat. “Breakfast?”

*

My fists fly into the punching bag. This time, it’s not being pushed around. Bucky is standing behind it, holding it firmly in his grasp, watching me closely and giving advice when he sees fit. It’s not the first session we share. Over the last few days, we have developed some sort of a routine, one of us showing up at the other’s room wordlessly, silent terrors behind tired eyes.

My time in the gym has become less self-destructive since, with him there to keep a close watch so I don’t push myself until I black out. Instead, he eases me off my adrenaline high, pulls me back out of my spiralling brain into reality. The time spent with him slowly fills the hole left by our nightly meetings on the balcony. It helps me tire myself out, I get to sleep through most of the times I go to bed afterwards.

“I just remembered something", I start one time we take the elevator back up to our respective floors.

He’s leaning against the wall across from me, elbows propped up on the railing. Sweat still glistening on his forehead, his hair a tousled mess, despite its shortness.

His eyes flicker over to mine. “Hm?”

I clear my throat. “When I was … held hostage by HYDRA, their commander said something, I never quite understood why.”

It feels … unsettling, to talk about that day. Bucky just looks at me patiently, without pressure.

“He said it was amazing what love could do to people.”

Bucky cocks an eyebrow.

“He was talking about you. Us. He said that it was easier to get to you because they had me.”

There is something in his eyes that I can’t quite put my finger on. He looks taken aback, almost. He flexes his right hand, still looking right at me.

“And I told him he was wrong. They thought they had you all figured out, you know? Thought they could convince you to come alone just because they had me, of all people. I mean, I guess Steve would’ve been harder to catch, but you know …”

He still hasn’t said a word. I start to squirm under his gaze, slate eyes intently watching me, a muscle in his jaw twitching. It dawns on me, then, that bringing up HYDRA playing mind games is probably not the best thing. Sure, he knows, but did I have to remind him of that? I want to punch myself at the pained expression on his face.

“I’m sorry I brought it up”, I murmur, not daring to meet his eyes. He slowly exhales, and part of the tension seems to leave him.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He attempts a smile. It fails so miserably it almost hurts.

The elevator doors open with a quiet ring. As if being startled awake, Bucky suddenly straightens up and walks through the door, muttering a “Goodnight” under his breath.

I look after him confused, doors sliding closed. It feels like I lost some small part of him. The elevator picks up speed again and I make for the door as it opens on my floor.

*

That night, my dreams are haunted by the pained expression on Bucky’s face, mixed with what my brain pieced together from the few things he told me about his time with HYDRA. I wake up shaking and sit up, sweat plastering my hair to my forehead.

“FRIDAY, can you check in with Sergeant Barnes? If he’s safe?”

“Sergeant Barnes shows no sign of physical distress, Agent Jones.”

Seconds later, there is a knock. I get out of bed and walk over, opening the door. Bucky looks at me with tortured eyes that widen with worry as he takes me in. “You okay?”, he asks softly, lifting a hand to brush my hair out of my face. I nod and take a step back, allowing him into the room. He closes the door behind him and I wrap my arms around my torso, still feeling guilty for the conversation we had earlier.

He’s standing in the middle of the room, as if he doesn’t know where to sit – or if to sit at all. I sit down on the bed and study him for a while. We both start talking at the same time.

“I’m sorry that – “

“I shouldn’t have – “

We stop, sheepish smiles ghosting over both our faces. Something flutters in my chest. It’s quiet then, for a while, until he opens his mouth again.

“I’m sorry that I just left like that. Earlier.”

I shake my head. “No, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

He runs a hand through his hair and takes a step towards me, gesturing over at the bed. “May I?”

I nod, making room for him on the blanket next to me and he sits down, his weight shifting the mattress. He looks like he’s debating something in his mind, torn between one thing and another. I gently touch his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

He stills. Then he sighs. It breaks my heart seeing him this way, tense shoulders, eyes lined violet. He draws a slow and deep breath until he looks over at me. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

I blink, startled. He takes my surprise as hesitation and makes to get up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you – ” Before he can get up entirely, I wrap my hand around his wrist. He pauses, eyes flying to my hand and then to my eyes.

“Bucky.” He slowly breathes out. “Of course you can stay.”

I let go of his wrist and crawl up to the headboard, leaning back against it.

“C’mere.”

He follows, but instead of sitting next to me, he lies down, curling up with his head on the pillow. I extend my left leg and he inches closer, left hand coming to rest on my thigh. My left hand finds its way to his shoulder, tracing soothing circles over it and slowly up his neck until my fingertips are tousling his dark hair. I can’t help but muse over its softness. He sighs against my leg and I can almost see the tension leaving him, shoulders slowly slumping.

“Thank you”, he mumbles, barely audible.

“Any time, Bucky.”

*

I wake up later, barely, to his hands stroking my shoulders.

“Lizzie, hey.”

I squint and try to open my eyes further.

“Everything is fine, I just … your back is gonna hurt if you stay like that the whole night.”

I’m still leaning against the headboard.

“Mkay”, I mumble, eyes fluttering closed again. I think I hear him chuckle, then he gently picks me up and places me down on the mattress so that I’m in a proper sleeping position. My eyes blink open again when he comes to rest next to me, face inches from mine. “Thank you”, I whisper, and without thinking about it, I place a kiss on his cheek. The surprised look on his face barely registers with me, before I sink back into unconsciousness.

*

When I wake up again, it’s morning. Bucky has assumed the position I was in last night, leaning against the headboard, a hand softly placed on my shoulder. I look up at him and smile, eyes not yet fully open. He smiles back, the softest look in his eyes.

“Morning, Lizzie.”

I yawn and rub my eyes, rolling onto my back.

“You know, Bucky, I always seem to sleep better when you’re next to me.” My cheeks heat up as soon as the last words leave my mouth and I scramble to say something less embarrassing, I shouldn’t be allowed to talk until I’ve been awake for at least ten minutes, for fucks sake, but then he smiles.

“I do, too.”

The soft morning light makes him look ethereal, his eyes almost silver in the direct sun. He squints down at me, eyes roaming over my face, before settling somewhere below my eye line.

“You’re beautiful”, he says softly and I pause, before I sit up, his eyes following every movement. I can’t help but stare at him, painted in golden light, and yet he tells me I’m beautiful.

I move towards him until my knees almost touch his legs. His right hand slowly reaches out, carefully, as if to not startle me, and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. He cups my cheek, thumb smoothing over my cheekbone and my eyes flutter closed. He moves closer, bedsheets rustling beneath his knees, and then I feel soft lips on mine. The ghost of a kiss pressing against me. My eyes fly open and immediately, he pulls back.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to – I just – I can’t –“

His hand leaves my cheek and it feels strangely cold. Before he can pull back further, I grab his hand. Gathering all the courage I have, I look him in the eyes.

“Kiss me, Bucky.”

He draws a shaky breath and then he is there, lips pressed against mine. I close my eyes, curling my arms around his neck, and he grabs my hips, pulling me closer, closer, onto his lap. His hands slide over my thighs to the small of my back, and then upwards, until they flatten against my shoulder blades, holding me like he needs me to live. Maybe he does. Maybe I need him, too, I wonder, as my hands find their way into his hair, pulling gently.

He pulls me closer, rocking me against his abdomen and a small, breathless sound escapes my throat. Bucky moans in response, teeth nipping at my lower lip. His tongue follows and I melt into him, hands pulling him closer towards me. Almost on instinct, I roll my hips against him again. His fingers curl into my shirt as he groans, sending a rush of blood down into my core.

We pull apart then, panting, dizzy from the lack of oxygen. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide. I shudder when his gaze meets mine. We’re still so close to each other, noses almost touching, breaths mingling between us.

“I can’t tell you how long I’ve been wanting to do this”, he whispers against my lips, and goosebumps trickle down my spine.

“You have?”

He nods, tongue wetting his lips. His right hand slides up around my neck, thumb smoothing over the sensitive spot right below my ear, following the curve of my jaw. I let my head fall to the side, baring my neck, eyes closing. He places a barely-there kiss against the skin, then another, tracing a line down to my collar bone.

“I’m a simple man, Lizzie. Give me a beautiful woman in a tac suit, and I’m done for.”

I chuckle and open my eyes, facing him as he lifts his head to look at me. “Really that easy, hm?”

He nods earnestly, corners of the mouth twitching up. “If she can also handle a gun? Man …” He sighs. “I suppose I’ve been in the military for too long.”

I shrug. “Well, me too, then.”

One eyebrow shoots up, then he grins, “How long you been here, Lizzie?”

I roll my eyes at him. “You know what I mean, Bucky.”

He acts as if contemplating whether or not he needs me to elaborate, then he gets a smug look on his face. “Yeah, I’ve seen how you look at me sometimes.”

I groan, hiding my face in his shoulder. His low chuckle turns into a hum when my lips meet his throat and I work my way up the same way he just did. My hands on both sides of his face. His fingers curl around my wrists and I look into his eyes.

“It’s not like I do much to hide … anything, really.”

“Anything?” He kisses the palms of my hands, holding them against his face.

“You just look good in black, Buck. Don’t tell me you don’t know it.”

He cracks a crooked grin, looking up at me through his lashes and I draw a shaky breath.

“No, I know. I’m old enough to see when a woman looks at me and likes what she sees.”

I roll my eyes at him and he chuckles.

“I’m kidding, Lizzie.”

He pulls me towards him and gently places his lips on mine. I sigh and can’t help but smile into the kiss, fingers playing with his hair. His tongue caresses my lips and I open my mouth to let him in. His hands drop to grab my hips, rocking me against him again and heat shoots through my body, lips suddenly become sloppy and desperate, my hands trying to get a hold of as much of him as possible.

He tips us to the side, keeping me close with his right arm and holding himself up with his left. Then he carefully places me onto the bed, lips never leaving mine. His fingers toy with the hem of my shirt, leaving butterfly touches on the skin below it. His mouth wanders, pressing kisses to the corners of my mouth, the underside of my jaw, underneath my ear, down the curve of my neck.

I bite my lip and my hands curl into his hair, following his movements slowly down my upper body. All the while his hands slowly push up my shirt, exposing the tender skin of my stomach. His fingertips ghost along the underside of my breasts. My breath hitches.

“That okay?”, he mutters into my ear, lips fluttering against my ear. I have to bite back a moan and can only nod. “Talk to me”, he adds.

“Fucking hell, Buck, just take my shirt off.”

He chuckles against my ear and pulls the fabric up, up, over my head. I open my eyes and catch his, roaming over the stretch of skin now exposed to him. He dips his head low to place a kiss on my chest, and then his hands are on my sides, tracing upwards. His thumb rubs over my nipple, cold metal in stark contrast to the fire inside me that he keeps feeding with each touch.

My hands pull on his hair and he moves up to me, lips pressing down and fingers caressing the soft skin. The clash of his cold hands on my chest and his warm lips against mine send a rush of blood into my lower body and I sigh into his mouth, before he leaves again. I complain until his mouth is where his fingers were just seconds before, closing around my hardened nipple, tongue rolling against it. A twinge of pleasure lets the muscles in my stomach contract and I gasp, my back arching up into him, reacting on reflex only.

His hand pushes me back against the bed, his mouth still kissing and nipping on reddened skin. Then he looks up at me and parts my legs with a knee, pushing upwards, gaze fixed on my face. He pushes further and my mouth falls open, making an effort to keep eye contact with him while he moves against me, coaxing a slow moan from deep within me. Still, I am looking directly at him. His lips part. I prop myself up on my elbows and only when my mouth meets his, I close my eyes.

“You’re gonna drive me insane, one day”, he mumbles between kisses and I smile lazily, lowering myself back down.

“Am I, now?”

I like the feeling of having him wrapped around my little finger and he knows it, sees it in the glint in my eyes and the smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. Hands placed on both sides of my body, he moves his knee against me again and I gasp.

“You know exactly what you’re doing, Lizzie.”

Then he dips down, kissing a trail down my stomach until he hits the hem of my sweatpants. He sits back onto his heels and hooks his finger into the waistband, cocking one eyebrow. I nod again, and he pulls them down, off my feet, leaving them to fall somewhere next to the bed. His hands slide up my legs until they meet the line of my panties and my breath hitches when his rough fingers touch the soft skin of my thighs. His lips follow his hands and now I am panting, head falling back when he follows the outline of the fabric against my skin. His hands placed on my thighs, his mouth placing lazy kisses against my stomach, and suddenly his thumbs stroke down my core, my back arching off the bedsheets.

He takes his hands off me, then, and I groan, propping myself up onto my elbows again.

“Quit teasing.”

He hooks his fingers into the band of my panties and cocks an eyebrow, waiting for my reaction.

“Talk to me, Lizzie. What do you want?”

I draw in a shaky breath, looking down at him with heavy eyelids. “Take them off.”

He obeys, pulling the fabric off along my legs and discarding it as well. He looks at me again and I groan, head falling back. He just waits until I’m squirming under him, and even then he doesn’t touch me. I lift my head again and he brings his head down to my thighs, peppering them with small kisses, just enough to make me breathe heavily but not where I actually want him.

“Bucky …”, I whine, and he hums against my skin.

“What do you want, Lizzie?”

“For you to use that snarky tongue of yours.” I get a chuckle from him for that.

“You’re bossy”, he mutters between kisses and I huff, hands closing into the blanket below me. “I like when you’re bossy.”

Before I can complain, he dips his tongue between my legs and licks upwards in one long stroke. I moan loudly before I can bite my tongue, hands flying into his hair. His tongue laps over my clit in a steady rhythm and all the air leaves my lungs, hands scrambling to hold onto something, anything, and clenching into the sheets.

“Bucky …”, I moan his name and he hums against me in response, sending goosebumps down my legs.

“Happy now?”, he teases, before going back to kissing and licking and I chuckle breathlessly.

“Almost.”

This time I don’t have to explain. He understands anyways and slowly slides a finger into me. I almost see stars for a second. Then he curls his finger upwards and I do see stars, the knot inside me coiling tighter and tighter with every lap of his tongue. I press myself against him, relishing in the white-hot pleasure shooting through my body. My back arches off the bed, thighs pressing against his cheeks. His left hand holds me in place and he adds a second finger, following the rhythm set by his tongue. I whisper his name over, and over, and over, like a prayer, and he responds with a hum, tingling against my overly sensitive skin.

He slightly changes the angle of his fingers and I gasp, the rising feeling inside me almost at its peak.

“Bucky, wait –“, I pant, and he stops immediately, lifting his head, concerned eyes meeting mine.

“If you go on like this I can’t promise to keep it together much longer.”

He licks his lips, the sight of him between my legs alone almost enough to send me spiralling. “I don’t mind.” He dips down again and I moan loudly and pull at his hair to get him to look at me again. He looks up at me, continuing to move his fingers and I swear I’m going crazy.

“But I do”, I pant, and he stops. I tug at his hair again and he pulls his fingers out of me, before crawling up to meet me. I sigh into the kiss, butterflies in my stomach at the taste of his tongue. I pull back just enough.

“I do, because I want you, Bucky.” He blinks, inhaling sharply.

“You sure?”

I kiss him in return, not bothering with a vocal answer. He takes it as a yes, kiss deepening as my fingers fumble along the hemline of his black shirt. He leans back, takes it off, and comes back to me again.

“You got a condom?”

I nod and roll over to reach for the nightstand while Bucky takes off his pants, before leaning down and pressing soft feathery kisses along my spine. I allow myself to savour the feeling of his lips against my skin, then I turn back around. He rips the condom open with his teeth. I sit up when he lies down, his hand reaching out.

Our fingers interlace with each other, he tugs and I follow until I feel him hard against my core. I suck in a breath and he places his hands on my hips, pulling me towards him. I lean forward and reach for him, and then he is there, slowly pushing into me. His fingertips press into my skin as I slowly lower myself down. His brows are furrowed and his eyes are watching me intently. I can’t seem to look away, he’s holding me in his gaze and we both moan at the same time.

Then I place my hands on his chest and roll against him, my hair falling into my face. His hands leave my hips and reach for my breasts, pinching and thumbing over my nipples, sending sweet jolts of pleasure down to where our bodies meet. My breath comes heavy, and when he starts moving with me, my mouth falls open. He grabs my hips again and holds me in place, before he suddenly flips us so that I’m below him. My hands fly up to the headboard, trying to find something to hold on to and he grabs them, pinning them above my head. My back arches of the bed and the angle changes slightly, I can almost feel it, he almost hits the spot, just –

His metal hand reaches for my knee and pulls my leg up against his hips, pushing my thigh back against me. It’s the exact change I needed. He hits the spot again, and again, and my head falls back, a string of nonsensical words leaving my mouth. He curses underneath his breath.

“Look at me, baby, please”, he whispers and I can’t help but obey him.

He thrusts into me and my hips roll against him, meeting him halfway.

“Fuck, Bucky, I –“

He groans in response, brows furrowed, sweat on his forehead. Every muscle in my body is tense in anticipation, I feel myself tighten around him. He moves his hand from my thigh to where we’re connected, thumb smoothing over my clit, jaw set as he adjusts the angle of his hips again. He hits the spot. Once. Twice. My hands strain against his grasp and my back arches and then I feel myself explode. My breath catches in my throat and my eyes snap closed.

“Dammit, Lizzie …”, he growls as I contract around him and then he follows me down, hand gripping my waist. His breath leaves him shuddering and his hips buck. One last swipe of his thumb that has me trembling underneath him, before he removes his hand and lets go of my wrists. My hands snake down and I grab both sides of his face. He lowers himself onto his elbows, one on each side of my head, and eases into a long, satisfied kiss. His hands curl into my hair that’s sprawled around my head on the pillow and I melt against him. Then he pulls back. Opens his mouth.

“I love you.”

I pause. Did he really – my eyes open, slowly, to not break the moment. Suddenly I’m staring directly into his eyes, noses mere inches apart. I open my mouth. Close it. He sighs, pulling away to better look at me.

“I’m sorry if that was a bit … forward. But I’m tired of hiding it. And I wanted you to know that this”, he nods his head down at our entwined bodies, “means something to me.”

He loves me. All the small moments I have been repressing for the last weeks come crashing over me like a tidal wave. “I am not. Leaving you, Jones.” Suddenly I understand why he reacted the way he did when I told him about HYDRA’s comment. “It’s amazing what love can do to people.” And I really didn’t see it. Hell, even HYDRA knew. His reaction when I told him I tried to end it. “I can’t – I wouldn’t even know what to do without you.” The times he spent in the gym with me, at night. On the balcony before that. The times he sat outside my room, just keeping watch. “Had a bad dream. Wanted to make sure nobody would hurt you.”

“Can you … say something?”

I blink. Maybe I should react. That would be appropriate, I guess.

“That’s –“, my voice is rough and I clear my throat, “unexpected.” Bullshit, fucking hell, Jones.

He pulls away, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have … goddammit I had to ruin it, didn’t I?” No, you didn’t ruin anything, I just don’t know –

“I’m sorry, Lizzie, I –“

I sit up and grab his arm, pull his hand away from his face. I take his other hand, too.

“I was wondering when you had started calling me ‘baby'.”

He huffs out a breath of air and closes his fingers around my hands.

“It just … slips. I don’t even do it on purpose, I just …”, he shrugs, a pained expression on his face, and I realise what this must be like for him. He sleeps with the woman he loves, tells her, and she freezes. I take a deep breath. Fucking hell, I’m an idiot.

“I love you, too, Bucky.”

The moment I say it, I realise its truth. Its utter, crystal clear truth. His eyes go wide.

“I’m just bad with my emotions. I’m sorry”, I try to salvage some of it.

He lifts a hand up to my cheek, staring at me in utter disbelief. His thumb smoothes over my cheekbone and I close my eyes, leaning into his touch. Of course I fucking love him. I would’ve died for him. Didn’t even hesitate.

The softest of kisses brings me back down to earth. To where I am sitting naked on the bed with the man I love. I melt into it, arms curling around his neck, pulling him towards me.

“Don’t apologise for things like that”, he mumbles against my lips and touches his forehead against mine.

Then he squeezes my hand, “Be right back”, and with a peck on the lips, he gets up in the direction of the bathroom. I sigh and let myself fall back onto the sheets. There is a slight, sweet burn between my legs, a gentle reminder. I yawn, stretching in the sun like a cat that just woke up. When I open my eyes again, there’s a shadow in front of me. I blink up at him as he’s just standing there, watching, a soft smile on his face.

The sun is behind him now, lighting up bits of his hair like a halo. Sunshine suits his eyes, I realise.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re fucking beautiful, Bucky?”, I mutter and he comes crawling over to me. There’s a slight heat to my cheeks but hell, I’m naked in front of him, and after what just happened it’s not like I can’t call him beautiful. He doesn’t seem to mind, at least.

“You’re cute, Lizzie", he responds, kissing my nose. I smile at that and pull him back down to me. We roll over onto our sides and he grabs the blanket, tucking me in and planting a kiss on my forehead. And finally, I feel like I can maybe, someday, be whole again.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #one shot #smut fic #winter soldier

[kasienda]

The Five Minute Adventures of Snake Noir: Ch 6 - Miraculous Abuse

Chapter 1: I Want It To Be You

Chapter 2: Best Friends

Chapter 3: Best Laid Plans

Chapter 4: A Thank You

Chapter 5: Unwanted Revelations

Chapter 6: Miraculous Abuse

If Adrien had avoided using the snake before, he now was operating on the other extreme. Ladybug had told him to abuse it, and he’s not sure she would have meant it quite so literally, but well… he and Nino had come up with a list. 

It had started with his homework. If he could finish his homework in far less time, he’d  have more time to visit Nino and Marinette. Not that it took a lot of time to visit Marinette as it was usually a loop, so even if he spent hours with her, it never took longer than ten minutes as far as the rest of the world was concerned. 

He unfortunately couldn’t do all of his homework in a time loop because that would leave whatever he had completed in the last five minutes erased. But he could do all the reading, researching, planning, and studying in a loop. Anything that didn’t require him to write anything down. 

Nathalie had only walked on him transformed once. 

“Yes, Nathalie?” he had asked, without looking up from his textbook. He hadn’t even thought about it. 

She stood stock still and was dead silent. He glanced towards her with a frown - her eyes were comically wide, but that was the only sign that she was shocked. He glanced down, and remembered he was transformed at Aspik. 

Read on Ao3

“Oh shit!” 

But it had been easy enough to fix. He just reset, destranformed, waited for Nathalie to come in and deliver his schedule changes for the week and leave, and then he transformed again. 

And then Nino had realized if he could pack all of his studying into the space of five minutes, Adrien could surely squeeze in some well deserved leisure time as well. 

It only took 71 loops to read a hundred thousand words, and Adrien had long ago discovered the joys of fanfiction, but he had never really had time to read more than a bit here or there. Now? With unlimited time and an entire endless library of things to read based on his favorite games and anime? Let’s just say his current power set brought a whole new meaning to the phrase, “Just One More Chapter.” 

And a season of anime was only 119 loops. Hell, he had gotten through all 981 episodes of One Piece in 4532 loops, which was still nothing compared to his time as Aspik, and honestly, far less traumatizing. 

He had felt slightly guilty about it. He was literally using the powers of time travel to watch anime. 

But when he mentioned it to Nino, his friend had just rolled his eyes. “Dude! You’re thinking about this all wrong. You’re a hero and we need you to be okay. This is about avoiding burnout as much as it is about having a good time. It’s so you get enough of a break and enough sleep to be a competent hero that we all need!”

But eventually the stories and shows hadn’t been enough to hold his attention. And he took another of Nino’s ideas and started paying visits to several of his friends. 

He had gone to Kagami first. He had no expectations of healing things with her, but he had always wanted to be able to explain so that his apologies might mean something.

“Chat Noir? Is there an akuma?” she asked by way of greeting. 

He rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Ah, no. I wanted to talk to you about something, but I also have to erase your memory after the fact to protect identities. Are you okay with that?”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “You have piqued my curiosity. You may proceed.” 

He nodded. He had already activated his power before he had landed in her bedroom that was definitely as lavish as his own if not quite as spacious. 

“So… more than anything I wanted to apologize to you?”

She frowned. “I’m unaware of anything that you have done that would require an apology.”

“Kagami, I’m Adrien.”

Her eyes went wide for a second. “Ah, I see.” Then, she nodded. 

“That’s it?” 

“No, it makes a lot of sense.” And then she did something he never would have expected. She smiled. And most of his tension released. 

“I just wanted to explain now that I had the ability to. That I wasn’t ever lying to you or running from our dates because I wanted to.” 

“You had to sacrifice your own desires for a higher calling.”

“Yeah, that’s it exactly.”

She smiled at him again. “I appreciate you coming to explain and I understand completely why I can’t remember. May I ask you a question?” 

“Of course!” 

“Were you never in love with Marinette?”

“Well, I… uh… it was hard to see Marinette when I was completely enamored with Ladybug, but…”

She shook her head. “Are you in love with both of them now?” 

“I mean, sortve?” He knew Kagami hated when he ended every sentence as if it was a question. “They’re the same person.”

Kagami sighed. “How disappointing.” 

“Disappointing?! She’s amazing!” 

“I know, but if she’s Ladybug and you’re Chat Noir, I have never had a chance with either of you.” 

He felt like he had been thrown off a cliff. “What? You had feelings for Marinette?” 

She grinned. “Well, she is amazing, as you always say. At least I know that I have really good taste.”

“Well, I’m sorry to have ruined all your prospects.” 

“I will survive. Neither of you define me as a person.” 

“You’re pretty amazing, too, you know,” he told her sincerely. 

She nodded. “You honor me.” 

He laughed. “Kagami, please don’t get all formal on me. I’m still just me.” 

“Well, I hope you know that I appreciate all that you and Ladybug do for the city,” Kagami told him, ignoring his request.

“Thank you, Kagami. That means a lot coming from you.” 

She nodded in acknowledgment and he knew he was being dismissed, and then he slid the switch on his bracelet and he was on the roof of her family’s manor once again his heart a little lighter.

He had gone to Alya after that. He had been nervous since she was the one who tended to push him aside as Chat Noir. But his fears proved to be completely unfounded as for the most part she could never stop laughing whenever he revealed himself.

“Wait! You’re Adrien?!”

She burst into cackles immediately. 

“Why is that so funny?!” He has demanded the first time. 

She had just grinned, shaking her head and still chuckling. “I wish I could explain it to you, sunshine.” 

“I already know Marinette is Ladybug,” he said.

“Oh good! Then I don’t have to be panicked about accidentally slipping!” And she went back to rolling on the floor laughing. 

“You wouldn’t happen to already know Marinette’s other secret would you?” she asked.

His eyebrows scrunched together under his mask. “Umm… that she’s in love with me as Adrien?” 

Her face lit up. “Oh see!! You do get it!” 

He shook his head. “I do not get it.” 

“The two of you managed to get yourself in a love square. You’ve been chasing each other around like two cute little hamsters in hamster balls.” 

He sighed, far less amused than Alya at the current state of his Marinette’s relationship. “I’m really glad someone is getting some joy out of this.” 

“Hey!” she objected. “I’m only going to know this for another three minutes! Let me have my fun!”

He held up his hands in surrender, and he was smiling in spite of himself. Maybe some time in the future, after he and Marinette could be together, it would be funny to him, too.

“God! This is why it feels like I’m third-wheeling during akuma fights,” she exclaimed.

“You feel like a third wheel?!” he repeated in disbelief. “Have you seen the chaotic energy that is you and Marinette coming up with a plan together? I am definitely the third wheel in that situation.”

And then she was cackling again. “I’m sorry,” she wheezed. “Nino says I can be a bit of a bulldozer when I’m trying to find a solution to something.” 

“That’s putting it mildly,” he said dryly.

All the mirth fled her face and she looked at him in concern. “Hey, you okay?”

He nodded. “It’s not like I’m allowed to be anything else.” 

“No, don’t say that! You’re allowed to be upset with me! I deserve it sometimes.”

He shook his head. “I’m never going to hold your ability to defeat an akuma against you. I just… have felt a little unneeded lately,” he admitted.

She stared at him for a second and then she burst into laughter again. 

And despite still not getting it, he found himself chuckling, too. Her laughter was just that infectious. “Why do you find this so funny?” he asked. 

“Because you’re a literal superhero and a model with more money than god, and a heart of absolute gold. You work with her as Ladybug so well I have to deal with crazy conspiracy theorists on the Ladyblog  who think the two of you must be telepathic aliens!” 

“What? People don’t think that.” 

“They do! And it’s annoying. But my point is you’re the real deal, Agreste, and she’s crazy about you, and you know it, and yet you still manage to doubt yourself.” 

“I’m glad my struggles and hang ups are so amusing to you,” he said with a pout. 

She sat up and fist bumped his shoulder. “Aww! Sunshine! I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant, your insecurity makes you seem sweeter and cuter. And it makes you seem more human. I don’t mean to mock you in any way.”

He searched her face and only found open sincerity.

“Thanks, Alya.” 

“So, does she know that you know?” 

“I mean, she doesn’t right now. But I’ve told her. Many many times, but it was just like this and she doesn’t remember.” 

She softened. “That sounds difficult.” 

“It’s apparently better than the alternative,” he said, going for nonchalance, but he didn’t fool her if her scooching to sit right next to him was anything to go by.  

“I wish we could all fix it for you, Adrien.” 

“Yeah, me too.” 

“How are you?” 

He shrugged. “I’m okay at the moment. Some days are worse than others. Nino… Nino has been a godsend.” 

She smiled. “He is pretty amazing. He knows outside of a loop?” 

“He does.” 

“I’m glad you have that, Adrien. Marinette was falling apart at the seams before she told me.” 

“Does he know about Marinette?” Adrien asked. Sometimes, it seemed like Nino knew more than he was letting on. But maybe his friend was just really respectful of secrets and didn’t ask questions.

“Not from me! And he hasn’t told me about you being Chat Noir either.” 

Adrien glanced toward the window. 

“Does it bother you that there are secrets between the two of you?” he finally asked.

“No, not these ones. They’re not our secrets. They’re yours, and they’re Marinette’s, so they’re not ours to share.”

“I'm jealous,” he admitted.

She offered him a sympathetic smile. “Someday, you won’t have to be anymore.”

The Snake beeped it’s first warning. “Time’s just about up.”

She offered him a fist bump and then a hug. He reciprocated both. “I’m glad you stopped by, Sunshine. You’re always welcome any time you think my particular brand of company is something that would help you.” 

He grinned. “Thank you, Alya.” 

“I look forward to the day when all four of us can just be open about everything,” she said. 

He snorted. “You and me both.” 

His went to his bodyguard next. 

“I just wanted to apologize to you for always running off. I don’t mean to make your job harder or get you into trouble. I am literally running away to save the city.”

His bodyguard didn’t say anything. He never said anything. He had just let out a resigned sigh and then patted Adrien’s shoulder. 

Adrien took that as forgiveness and reset the loop. There was no sense in sitting there in awkward silence for another four and a half minutes. 

When he had told Nathalie one afternoon at her desk outside her office, she looked horrified - frozen as still as a statue trapped in Medusa’s gaze. 

“Nathalie?” 

“I… all this time?” she whispered.

“Yeah. I know it’s a lot. I know it causes you a bit of grief when I disappear.” 

She waved away his concern. “Right now, we’re in some kind of time loop and I won’t remember?” 

“But you will,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” he confirmed anyway. 

“Adrien, I need you to listen to me.”

He nodded. 

“I can never find out. Your father can’t either. If you need something because you’re hurt or cornered, or…” she trailed off.

Was she crying? 

She cleared her throat. 

“Go to your friends. Their parents. Just… not your father, okay? Or me, because I’d have to inform him.”

His brows furrowed together in confusion. “Okay?” It wasn’t hard to to agree despite how weird she was being. He knew Paris needed him and he also knew that his father would never let him continue. Especially if he was seeking help due to an injury or something.

That’s what Nathalie was referring to, right? 

She patted him on the shoulder. It was even more awkward than when his bodyguard had done it. 

“Adrien, you’re quite impressive as a hero.” 

“Thank you,” he said with a smile.

And then there was Marinette. He had learned that it was impossible to tell her he was Adrien without making her cry, which was frustrating because she was also so much more open and affectionate once she knew. 

“How do I get you to not breakdown when I tell you this?” he asked her seriously.

She laughed through her tears. “I’m sorry, kitty. I have no idea. It’s just… it’s not fair.” 

He smiled. “That’s what Ladybug always says,” he told her casually. She didn’t know that he knew this go around.

“She’s right! You deserve so much, and life… it’s not fair!”

He turned to her seriously. “I don’t need life to be fair, Mari. I just… don’t want to have to wear a mask all the time.” And then he smiled. “I’m glad that you’re okay with me doing this.” 

She nodded tearfully. “Anytime, Kitty. Anytime.”  

Then during a regular patrol at one point. He had just realized he wanted to make her laugh. So he spent another few hundred loops figuring out which jokes made her laugh the hardest and which ones were absolute duds. Then, on a day when she was having a hard time, he showed up on her balcony and gave her the best one hour comedy of her life. 

Her unrestrained laughter was so explosive she had literally fallen out of her chair. Totally worth it. 

“Thank you, kitty,” she said wiping the tears induced by her laughter. “You have no idea how much I needed this.” 

He hadn’t argued. “Of course, princess. I am always at your service!”

Then, he started working on the perfect confession. He was trying to see if he could get her to kiss him as Chat Noir without revealing his identity because, you know, that always made her cry. 

“Can I use the snake to ask you a very important question?” He has asked Ladybug on patrol. 

She nodded, and he activated it. 

“What do you think it would take to get you to kiss me?” 

She laughed. “Are you serious right now? That is your very important question?” 

“It is,” he nodded, but offered her a huge grin so she could take it as a joke if she wanted.

“Why? You haven’t been able to be successful yet?” she teased.

“Oh no! I’ve been super successful. All I really have to do is tell you my name.”

She scoffed.

“No, I’m serious!” he boasted with a huge grin splitting his face knowing she only half believed him.

“So, why don’t you just do that?” she asked seriously. 

“Because you always cry! And I don’t want to kiss away your tears. I want to make you smile.” 

She got quiet. “You know, we can’t be together right?” 

“Yeah Marinette,” he whispered. “I know that really well.”

 It was silent.

“How long have you known?” she asked softly.

He had no idea how to answer that question. Because time was now very weird for him. In one sense he had only known for a few weeks, on the other he had literally spent so much time in loops that it had to have been at least twice that at this point. Maybe more.

“A while,” he said. “But we’ve already talked about that to death. I’d much rather figure out how to get you to fall desperately in love with this half of me.” 

She raised her eyebrows. “You want me to fall desperately in love with you in five minutes?” 

He shrugged. “We have a solid foundation of trust and friendship. I’m not starting from nothing. Plus, I’ve fallen in love in less than five minutes before.” With her. He didn’t think he needed to say that though.  

She actually smiled. “Yeah, I’ve fallen in love pretty fast before, too.” 

And it occurred to him that he had no idea what had made her fall in love with Adrien. He probably could ask her, but that was one more memory that he wanted her to remember having told him. 

He could probably just show up on her balcony as regular old Chat Noir and just say something like, “So, Adrien Agreste, huh?” She’d probably tell him, and she’d even remember it. But she wouldn’t know that it was him she was telling. 

How the hell had his life gotten so complicated? 

“There’s no way I would start crying just from knowing your name though,” she said. “You have to be making that up.”

He just turned to her and raised his eyebrows. 

The expression probably didn’t work as well with his transformation covering them. 

But she still hesitated. “There’s no way!” she exclaimed, but then she got a thoughtful look in her eyes. “Unless…” 

And then her eyes started welling with tears.

And he almost laughed. But he managed to hold it back.

“Oh, come here, bug,” he said instead, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her to him. And he just held her as she shook silently. 

“It’s not fair,” she whispered. 

“I know,” he said, and then kissed the top of her head. “I know.”

“Do you see my problem now?” he said after another pause. 

And she laughed through her tears, which had been his intention, and he smiled.

She pulled away. “I’ve thought about it before, you know.”

“Thought about what?”

“Letting myself fall for Chat Noir?”

He hugged her tighter. “Yeah?” 

“It never seemed like it would be that hard. I think if it hadn’t been for Chat Blanc, it would have happened after New York.”

He laughed. “Really? New York was when I thought maybe I should ask out Marinette.” 

She looked up at him in horror. “Oh my god! We’re just perpetually screwed, aren’t we? We’re just going to keep missing each other over and over!”

He kissed her hand. “No m’lady,” he assured. “That can’t happen because now I know, and I can’t forget.” 

And then she was crying again, harder. “I don’t want to forget either.”

“I know,” he told her, kissing her hand again. “I promise it won’t be forever.” 

“I love you, Adrien.” 

“I love you, too.”

And that time, of the two of them, it was he who was stronger and able to slide his fingers across the reset. 

And he might have stayed in that loop far longer than he should have trying to figure out the way to the heart he had apparently already won.

He learned that she did enjoy his flirting whatever she said to the contrary, but the moments where he was vulnerable and genuine were the ones that seemed to move her the most.

But none of it was quite enough. If he wanted a kiss, he always had to tell her his name. 

But despite his failure, pulling himself out of that loop was the hardest thing he had ever done.

And that’s how he knew he was in trouble. 

… 

“Nino, you have to take this away from me,” Adrien said, holding out the snake miraculous. He had just arrived and released both his transformations. 

Nino took it, his eyebrows pinched together. “What? Why?” 

“Because I’m scared I’m going to go into a loop and I’m never going to come out of it.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Look! Being here with you, with you knowing everything, is amazing. It’s the only time I feel like myself, unless,” he held up the bracelet, “I’m using this and… it’s getting harder to pull myself out of the loops.” 

“Your visits to Ladybug?” 

“Yeah,” Adrien admitted. “She told me to go every single day so I would remember what it was like to be loved,” he paused for a second, trying to swallow the sudden lump in his throat. “The problem is I really really like being loved.” 

And then he couldn’t hold the tears back anymore. 

Nino pulled him by the arm down to the ground and sat right next to him shoulder to shoulder.

Adrien buried his face in his hands. 

“For the record, dude,” Nino whispered. “You are loved even outside a loop with Ladybug.” 

Adrien threw his arms around Nino. “I honestly don’t know why you put up with me at this point. I feel like you have to put up with a lot.”

Nino grinned. “Hey! I happen to like hanging out with you! This shift has been awesome because I get to see you way more often.” 

“And I’m not like messing up date night with Alya or anything, am I?” 

“Nah!” Nino waves away his concern. “Alya and I hangout in the mornings and during lunch. Lately Marinette has monopolized her evenings.” 

Adrien managed to keep a straight face at that. “If you and her ever do need a day away from the children, I’m sure Marinette and I can figure out a way to take care of ourselves for a day.” 

Nino burst out laughing. 

“What?! I’m a big boy and Marientte’s a big girl. We can take care of ourselves.” 

Nino just shook his head, still snickering. 

“Maybe all four of us could do something some time,” Nino suggested, his eyes sparkling.

Adrien narrowed his eyes. Did Nino know? He knew he couldn’t ask without giving it away, and he had just handed over the snake. 

“That sounds really nice,” Adrien said, knowing he wouldn’t be able to handle going on a double date that he had to pretend wasn’t a double date. But someday. 

He wanted to cry again, but his eyes remained dry. 

“So, you just want me to keep it?” Nino asked, holding up the bracelet. “Should I hide it here in the room? Or wear it?” 

“Wear it,” Adrien said. That was the only way Nino would know where it was at all times. “But don’t use it. Not even for an akuma.”

He didn’t want Nino to ever experience a loop on the battlefield. Not if he could help it. 

“I reserve the right to come save your ass if necessary,” Nino said as he slipped the miraculous around his wrist. 

Adrien laughed. “Okay, but please don’t unless you absolutely have to. I don’t need Ladybug pissed at me for giving away a miraculous.” 

Nino frowned at him then. “Why are you giving this to me, instead of back to her?” 

Adrien’s answer to that was complicated. Partly because he didn’t want Marinette to know that his loops with her were hurting him even as they gave him hope, and he definitely didn’t want her to know that he had fallen to the point of being borderline addicted. 

But there was also a strategic element to his choice. He could approach Nino in either form, and Nino would know to trust him. 

“You know who I am,” Adrien finally said. 

“Will you be okay without it?” Nino asked.

Adrien shrugged. “I don’t know. But I’m definitely not okay with it right now.” He paused, then looked at Nino. “I might be texting and calling you a lot over the next few days.” 

Nino laughed. “I can’t promise to answer right away all the time, but you can always do that, man. Always.” 

Adrien let his head fall onto Nino’s shoulder. “Have I ever told you that you’re the absolute best?” 

“I could stand to hear it a few more times,” Nino said. 

Adrien grinned. “Noted.”

…

Chapter 7: The Five Minute Adventures of Ananta

#miraculous ladybug fan fiction #marichat #platonic adrino #trigger warning: addiction #hurt comfort #coping #identity reveal #time loops #The five minute adventures of snake noir #a miraculous reveal #ml spoilers #ml s4 #my own content #this fic writes itself #I'm just the channel #happy reading

[finaledenialist]

so in one of your asks you said you dont think cas was in love with dean since the beginning and idk its interesting to me because everyone seem to think he was from the start so what is your take on that? idk im just curious haha

ohhh I wanted to make a post about this so thanks for asking!

disclaimer: I don’t want to rain on anyone’s parade I just have a different take on this whole thing!!! 

So. I see people are like: OMG he was in love ALL THIS TIME SINCE 4x01 and I am like: no. 

Was he lost since he laid his hand on Dean in hell? Yes. Was he instantly in love? Nah.

See, Cas in season 4 and 5 is starting to feel. He is conflicted, he is questioning, he doesn’t have ‘people skills’, he is confused by what he feels, he knows there is a ‘profound bond’ between him and Dean and he is rebelling for Dean, because Dean has a point and Cas feels Dean is right and apocalypse and destruction are wrong, and this human is so human and he never had that connection before. Add the sexual innuendos, the eye fucking and the tension between those two and this is what i call ‘classic destiel’. I do have a strong feeling this is partly Jensen’s and Misha’s fault though haha but I am also convinced that the jokes like ‘Cas, get out of my ass!’/’Blow me Cas’ are purely for ‘comedic purposes’ because haha gay so funny (keep in mind it’s still 2008/2009 and things were so different then BUT we still got Endverse which had not only sexual stuff implied but romantic as well - ‘all we have left, Dean and I, is each other, if Dean says it’s time to go in a blaze of glory, so be it’ (I am writing this from memory so these might not have been exact lines but you know what I am talking about).

And then in season 6 and 7 is where things start to get romantic. ‘I watched you rake leaves’, Dean’s blind faith that no, Cas can’t be working with Crowley behind their backs because come on it’s Cas and the whole 6x20 episode is *chief’s kiss* and then season 7 and Cas dies to make things right and Dean keeps his trenchcoat and moves it from every car they have been using that season to always have it with him because part of me always believed you’d come back. OK, but I was meant to be talking mostly about Cas’ point of view. Which takes me back to 7x23 and I’d rather have you, cursed or not. I think these words had a major impact on Cas. Something just clicked. Because he realized that he could say these exact same words to Dean and they still would be true. 

And then we got season 8 which was a major shift and it really moved stuff from ‘sexual tension’ to ‘romantic tension’ and it’s still called ‘season fanfiction’ because I wanted to keep them away from you in purgatory and Cas generally not feeling worthy of anything but I think this is when he started to realize that what he feels is not like ‘brotherly friendship’ but something much deeper but he had his issues (I don’t deserve to be saved from purgatory thing) so he kind of kept it buried. But this was when the Real Love really started. But did he admit it to himself? Well I am not in Cas’ head but something must have been on his mind - Naomi had access too his mind and she immediately recognized that there is a certain Feeling that is dangerous and Cas needs to be fucking lobotomized (I still have shivers thinking about it). Did Naomi knew it was love? Idk, but she felt something was going on - that is why she tried to mess things up between Dean and Cas (I only wish he felt the same way ouch my heart....) and Metatron also recognized it, quicker and better (maybe because he spent much more time on earth and was generally a little more powerful and knowing as the scribe of God) and he immediately used Cas’ grace to banish angels from heaven because Cas was feeling love for a human. But did he, himself recognized it as love? Did he admit it to himself? I still have a feeling that no. I still think that his ‘I don’t know’ after Dean’s ‘What broke the connection?’ was honest.

Now let me fast forward to season 12, because this post is getting too long already and while seasons 9-11 had some good episodes and even good destiel scenes I feel this was the time many people - rightly so - were starting to lose faith in canon destiel, starting with Dean not letting Cas stay in the bunker in season 9 and bros acting like they only call Cas when they need him. I repeat - there were still some good episodes, even great ones. And we were shown Cas worried about Dean and being there for him anytime Dean called, there was so much pining but once again let me raise The Question: did Cas know what he was feeling was love? Or was he still confused, not letting himself believe, not being able to name his own feelings and emotions? And this is merely my opinion but this is also time where many people started to be bitter and negative by how writers treated Cas (and other characters in general but I am not gonna dive into that dumpster now, especially the Cas-having-sex-with-a-reaper thing which was awful, but in retrospect is even more awful because if it was Chuck’s writing this seems like some kind of sick attempt to do a conversion therapy and I want to throw up; plus he thought? he was into his boss at gas’n’sip and he thought she was into him and what even was it if not a. bad writing; b. Cas being confused; c. Cas being confused about this bad writing).

So season 12. First of all 12x12, when Cas thought he is gonna die and the infamous line ‘I love you. I love all of you’ happened. I  am 100% sure this is when Cas realized. This must have prompted questions for him. Why did I say what I said? He blurted those words out but why like that? Aaaand after some thinking I think he realized why. He must’ve been like ‘oooops’. But then Jack was about to be born and he had to protect Kelly and then he died.

And then he is in the Empty who says - I know who you love, I know what you fear, there is nothing for you out there. She doesn’t know shit, she just has access to Cas’ mind and apparently those were his thoughts, already at that time, he thought there was nothing for him out there (again, his depression issues) BUT THEN CAS, MY SWEET CAS, THIS BAD ASS MOTHERFUCKER says fuck you Empty in one of his best monologues (before 15x18 I’d say it was his best but here we are) and she yeets him out, because HE decided HE is already saved and he doesn’t need a permission and you can preen and you can scream and yell and remind me of my failings but somehow, I'm awake. And I will stay awake and I will keep you awake until we both go insane. I will fight you. Fight you and fight you for... ever. For eternity. 

And then Jack dies and he takes the humiliating deal.  And now we’re at 15x18 and he says: ‘I have always wondered.... ever since I took that burden.... What my true happiness can even look like... Because the one thing I want is the one thing I can’t have’. SEE THESE WORDS HERE ARE WHY I CAN’T SLEEP AT NIGHT. BECAUSE THEY IMPLY at least to me THAT:

1. He was aware of his feelings, he knew what he felt was love at the time he took the deal. and after that he was like ‘I guess I am immortal now’ because the one thing I want is the one thing I can’t have so nothing else is going to make him truly happy; this also implies that there is only one thing he truly wants and the rest is just not that important, whatever else happens won’t make him happy which is heartbreaking;

2. He knew what he wanted, so this means that at some point he wondered, he imagined, he took his time to picture the ‘thing’ he wanted. Which is life with Dean. Because he is in love. LIKE HE THOUGHT ABOUT THIS, HE REALLY DID AND HE CONCLUDED THAT THIS IS OUT OF HIS REACH (now people argue if that is because he thinks it’s unrequited or because he thinks that something something hunter life-fighting all the time-no attachments lifestyle won’t allow them to have this sort of life - and frankly, knowing that he learned everything, or almost everything about emotions from Dean, who isn’t really good at them, I am not surprised if he is sure that this feeling is one-sided, because maybe he conquered his fears in the Empty the first time around but taking the deal must have made him anxious and Chuck still calls him self-hating so he probably thinks this is one-sided and he is unworthy of love anyway);

3. He tried to imagine different scenarios that would make him happy but eventually it all came down to That One True Scenario, out of his reach, that couldn’t compare with anything else, and he tells Jack - you know about that deal, it’s ok, I don’t see myself becoming happy anytime soon AND IT HURTSSS

so to conclude and tl;dr - I think Cas realized that what he was feeling was love after 12x12 although he felt it before but might have been confused by it. I do not think he was ~in love~ since 4x01. There was tension and there was pining but no. This feeling evolved, it didn’t *just* happen in the barn. 

also i am so sorry this took so long but i have thoughts and feelings and can’t form a coherent sentence since november 5th anyway thanks for asking nonny, ily!!!!

#ask #asks #anon #long post #destiel is endgame #cas is in love #everything is beautiful but it hurts #spn 15x18 #spn spec #spn speculation #Anonymous