#THEY ARE LIARS. so i know... because i made them take this quiz..........

[vulpinesaint]

from the twisted mind that brought you several uquizzes that distressed and unsettled some people. a quiz that is genuinely silly this time 😇😈 —> putting you on the angel/demon alignment chart :3

[koalemoslepus]

I think Vere is gonna end up being a prostitute or forced sex worker for the Senobium of some kind

He immediately gave me Astarion vibes

In the trailer we see a lot of hands on him but not really reaching out for them, him on this plush red bed

There's lot of ways to be a hunter besides just out on the streets killing monsters though I don't doubt the Senobium has him doing that too

I think they probably just in general treat his body as disposable like he said the only reason they keep him around is because he's good at what he does

But then again he's a notorious liar

But that's also part of how I got here right because when you meet him outside the Brothel he seems to joke it off and give you the /impression/ he's not really a prostitute but I don't think he really says No I think he just says Lucky for you I don't charge for my services (I'm doing this on the fly I'm not going pull up footage atm esp when UPDATED DEMO IS ONLY A FEW HOURS AWAY- anyway)

Which makes you wonder how he gets fine clothes / his own money well his own money he probably gets from like the people he kills when he can stash it away but the clothes

Likely are given to him by the Senobium/ the few luxury he's afforded to work in the high end brothels to honey pot maybe

Tho how does anyone not know he's the Senobium fox at this point idk or maybe that's the appeal for some of these rich fucks

And thats more to why he hates being called dog even more than just how the priesthood treats him and being on a leash

Also the clothes thing looping back the other person we see with those fineries right is Elyon

Who owns the high end Brothels

And Also There was a little preview released by Red Spring of Ais telling MC to just relax they were just leaving a brothel? Because they were just meeting a friend so....either covering for Vere or thats our introduction to Elyon

Anyway that was the vibe I always got from first play of the demo was something like that but it's really solidified in the last few weeks thanks to the hunger games fandoms reawakening and like some Finnick Odair stuff really kind of made some stuff click for me

Like being paid in secrets and stuff right

Made to be prostitute for the Capitol from really young

Cause also right Vere is a kitsune with 1 tail and they said he's had over 100 birthdays like he may be very young cause some Kitsune legends its like per century is per tail or something

Like I think a lot of people when they read the entry about him proclaiming himself a God or Demon during the Senobium's capture of him pictures him I think as like Kurama in early Naruto like what we were like vaguely left to believe about the Demon Fox on a rampage

But what I picture for Vere and maybe it's just cause I love my pathetic gay wives but also no genuinely this came to mind was like

The scene from Inuyasha with Shippo when they first met him and his father was like missing (inevitably they discovered slain) or something along those lines and he's just a little fox pup alone and so he does all his fox magic to make himself seem like a scary demon if he can but he's really just this little dude

But they do say they weren't able to subdue him until the snow which might have been Kuras retracting his love imo maybe and there's the whole thing with his quiz line being I'm in love with Judas baby but that's a whole other thing thing anyway

Back to this yeah like him being a prostitute and kitsune

they may be taking advantage of what they perceive his nature to be either assigning him mindless sexual beast or cause kitsune in many legends feed on sexual energy

Theres so much media that comes to mind with this like Oh I had it but lost it to brain fog but an easy one is the Love Death + Robots episode with the kitsune right esp cause being transformed into something you're not to survive (this amazing tiktok I saw of a dog disguise over a fox comes to mind That was so Vere coded it was for 14 days later actually tho but...perf either way)

But yeah so much paralleling, the city being built off your crumbling, vegeance, reforming yourself, that hunt, finding that loyal ally that still remembers the old ways (Ais maybe) like mmm delicious

Natasha Romanov weirdly comes to mind but yeah that fox face Scarlett has but really it's the birdcage kind of plot line right and the Russian super spies (i don't watch marvel don't come for mee) women being also used as honey pots but also being assassins but still beholden right to this greater organization regardless of their own abilities it's inescapable until they recieve outsider help like

[yuichi-ro]

◈ 𝘈𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘪 𝘎𝘦𝘯 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

◈ 𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: Gen knows an awful lot about flowers

cw: fem!Reader, POV Third Person, fluff, unedited word count: 1.2k

 ◈ ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ/ʙʟᴀɴᴋ/ᴀɢᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ ʙʟᴏɢꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ʙʟᴏᴄᴋᴇᴅ ◈

“A personal favorite, black nightshade.” Gen held up the ironically white blossom sporting a vibrant yellow center, showing it off for the both of them to admire while he twirled the severed stem in his fingers, “One I’d often use in my shows because of it’s meaning. Liar.”

With eyes not set on just one bushel of flowers. The woman next to him took a quiet moment to see more than just what the magician was showing her, “Tell me more.”

Gen’s brows pinched together making him look away from the flower in his grasp, “What?”

She cocked a brow up at him inquisitively, “What? I said, tell me more.”

“About...nightshade?”

His confusion made her snicker but quickly she shook her head and pointed at the otherwise disregarded flowers and plants around them on this miniature hike right at the base of the waterfall, “I already know about that one. Tell me about the other flowers.”

At his disposal was no florist shop he could quickly visit to conjure up the correct species with his words. And yet the renewed world was teeming with some varieties he was quite familiar with around the village of science and it’s inhabitants. Gen’s petrification scar curled up into a grin as his own lips found themselves smirking as well, “One you should know because of it’s popularity, a lily. White for a purity. But the red ones for your final goodbye to a loved one. And if that isn’t enough one bearing the color orange might as well be a gift of hatred to a foe.” Gen dug through his knowledge of flowers and recited them all as eloquently as the day he’d been turned to stone, “A hydrangea, a beautiful flower colored by it’s pH balance, may be given in conjunction with an apology or thank you letter. Collect the blossoms from a falling cherry tree and know those petals mean hope and renewal just like the time of year they bloom. Chrysanthemum very much so reflected the imperial family as it was printed on the fifty yen coin. Though we may never care about that anymore thanks to the stone age. And camellias, specifically those striking red ones, were once laid among the mighty samurais that lost their life.”

“Is there a flower you don’t know the meaning to?” She inquired with quite a bit of curiosity after Gen recited his knowledge like he had prepped for a pop quiz. It couldn’t be helped, the smile growing on her lips as the master of slight of hand and apparently flowers stopped to see his audience hanging onto every word he had. Gen’s cheeks came to life with a dusting of blush that would not be deterred even if he looked away from his audience. Who of course giggled at him and reached over to take the nightshade from his fingers, “I’ve loved flowers since I was a little girl. So I’m sorry if I’m being pushy.”

“No no no.” Gen squeaked a little as he tried to disregard her apology as nothing at all, “An engaging audience makes it all the more fun if you ask me. So-” He cleared his throat and mustered his sanity to stay a foot above his blushing complexion when looking back over at her, “What flower exactly do you want to know it’s meaning of? Warning, I may be a little rusty if it’s not native to Japan.”

What he expected was the classics. Asking about a rose. A daisy like the one school kids made chains out of. Even ready for something a little more difficult like a peony or an iris as he recalled them being popular. What he wasn’t ready for was her to immediately get up. No warning. And really no explanation to it. His brows knitted together in confusion when his hiking companion looked as though she’d lost a contact or earring with the way she scanned the ground.

“Um....what are you doing?” Gen titled his head a little unsure if he should assume she was loosing it or worse ate something and was looking for the suspect to show him.

When there was no answer but a good a-ha moment. Gen was not expecting to see her sit back down with the flimsy singular cone petal of common, over growing and weed like morning glory. One she’d pinched a bit of stem off with. And proceeded to present it to him when she sat back down on the log where they’d taken up residency. 

Delicate little blue petals with it’s streak of almost pinkish color leading back to it’s stamen. The look of proud satisfaction on her face was more akin to a cat bringing home a dead bird. And not someone who’d picked one of the most common weeds that previously plagued school playgrounds.

Gen finally broke the silence without a lick of understanding, “That’s uh...”

“Morning glory.” She nodded frankly not sharing in his confusion, “Morning glory, right?”

“Yeah....it’s morning glory.” Gen untucked his hands from his robe and pointed at it almost derogatorily, “You know that’s just basically a weed right?”

“Oh I know.” She surprisingly agreed making him wonder why exactly she’d pick that, “But-” Her eyes softened staring down at the little thing when she twirled it between her fingers, “It’s important and I remember it from when I was a kid. Do you know what it means?”

While morning glory was something he’d of never bothered with in an act. It was pretty common so if she really didn’t know it’s meaning Gen was surprised, “Uh, something like, innocence and love, kids would give it to each other kind of thing. Why, did someone give you some or something?”

“No.” She said somberly which Gen was taken back by. As he stared at the flower in her grasp she took one last look at it before reaching out and tucking it behind the short pieces of black hair around his ear. Making the magician freeze with wide eyes when she sat back to inspect the flower tucked in his ear and the endearing look of worry on his face. It made her laugh all the same when Gen’s face officially blossomed in as much red as some of the flowers around them, “No one ever gave me one when I was a kid. So I hope you’ll let me give you this one now even if we’re technically a few centuries old.”

Gen not realizing he’d sucked in a breath and held it before his lungs were burning. Could not bring himself to break eye contact with the woman staring at him across the log. Only reaching up to touch the delicately soft petals of the otherwise useless weed no one spent two seconds on centuries ago. But now it felt like the most valuable flower he’d ever held in his hand.

Not removing it from his ear Gen couldn’t believe the fast one she’d pulled on him when it was his idea in the first place to try and impress her with this nature walk. Still touching the petal tucked against his ear Gen couldn’t stop the sheepish smile breaking his showman façade, “I’d love this flower so much more, if you were perhaps to have a matching one as well.”

“Well then,” She stood up from the log and offered a hand down to the blushing magician, “Our hike isn’t done yet, lets find another one shall we?”

[waitimcomingtoo]

Quizzes

Synopsis: you and Tom take a Buzzfeed quiz

Masterlist

“Hi I’m Tom Holland.” Tom smiled at the camera.

“And I’m Y/n L/n.” You greeted. “And today were taking some Marvel quizzes with Buzzfeed.”

“Are you ready, darling?” He asked you as he moved the laptop in between you.

“I’m ready to beat you.” You nodded.

“Is this a competition?” He asked the people behind the camera.

“It is now.” You stated. “Read the first question.”

“Which stone would you want power of?” Tom read off the screen. “I’m not gonna read the names of the stones because I don’t feel like embarrassing myself this early in the day.”

“I don’t actually know what any of them do.” You realized. “Do you know what they do?”

“The tesseract is a cube.” Tom said confidently.

“Yes, but that’s not an action.”

“Then I have no idea what any of them do.” He mumbled. You laughed at him and leaned your elbow on the back of his chair.

“Me either. This is why we both died in Infinity War.” You joked.

“Stop.” He playfully pushed you. “I think the reality stone would be cool because remember the fight between Doctor Strange and Thanos with all the pretty butterflies? We could just do that everyday and, you know, have world peace.”

“You’re right. We’re gonna go with reality stone.” You said to the camera as you clicked that answer.

“Next question.” Tom rubbed his hands together. “Which Disney character would you want on the Avengers?”

“Sorcerer Mickey.” You pointed to the picture of Mickey in his blue wizard hat. “Imagine getting tag teamed by a bunch of adults and a rat.”

“I’ve never seen the movie with this Mickey.” Tom realized. “I don’t remember this outfit.”

“I think it’s called Anastasia.” You told him.

“No, that’s a Broadway show.” Tom shook his head. “This is called Euthanasia.”

“It’s called Fantasia.” Someone behind the camera told you, making you and Tom exchange a knowing look.

“Oh.” You laughed. “I’m too embarrassed to pick sorcerer Mickey now so let’s go with the Genie. I think magic would be useful.”

“Genie.” Tom repeated as he clicked on it. “Next. Which DC character could defeat Thanos?”

“Let’s see them defeat the box office first.” You mumbled under your breath.

“You can’t say that.” Tom laughed in shock.

“But I did.” You shrugged. “What are they gonna do about it? They can’t even CGI a mustache.”

“Okay.” Toms laughed died down. “Next question. How would your closest friends describe you?”

“I don’t know.” You thought about it. “How would you describe me?”

“Beautiful.” Tom said simply.

“Fair enough.” You laughed shyly. “I mean, fair enough.”

“Caring, loyal, creative, funny, kind, successful.” Tom read off the options. “I mean, you’re all of these things. But when I think of you…”

Tom stopped in the middle of his sentence as a wide smile broke out on his face.

“Why are you smiling?” You asked him.

“Because I’m thinking of you.” He told you.

“Aw. Is disgusting an option?” You asked sweetly.

“Shut up.” He pushed you again. “I’m choosing funny.”

“Good choice.” You nodded and went to the nest question.

“Which dynamic duo is your favorite?” Tom read off the screen.

“I was thinking Thor and Loki.” You decided after surveying the options.

“Me too.” Tom agreed. “But I don’t really know what dynamic means, if I’m honest.”

“Me either.” You realized. “Let’s just move on. Which weird or unconventional superpower would you want to possess?”

“I think to read and instantly memorize.” Tom answered. “That would help with scripts.”

“When I worked in retail, costumers would have to punch in their social security number if they forgot their store card and I would see it on my screen.” You told Tom with a coy smile.

“Oh?” He laughed in confusion.

“I could commit in with theft in bulk.” You stated. “I’d just memorize all their social security numbers without even trying.”

“Oh my God.” He groaned and went to the next question.

“Who’s origin story is your personal favorite?” You read out loud.

“The way that neither of us are listed as an option.” Tom mumbled under his breath when he saw the choices.

“Your origin wasn’t even in your movie.” You laughed. “They jumped right in and said y’all know the drill. Dead uncle, no more glasses, and instant abs.”

“I’m torn because Steven Strange’s is about healing and putting yourself back together and Steve Rogers is about perseverance and determination.” Tom sighed as he tried to decide.

“And being skinny.” You winked at the camera.

“I’m also leaning towards Carol Danvers because women.” Tom ignored you.

“I’m gonna pick Steve because his story is sweet.” You decided and clicked on the option.

“And finally, what would you say is your personal character flaw?”

“I don’t know. I’m perfect.” Tom said smugly.

“Is being a massive liar an option?” You asked the camera crew.

“Leave me alone.” He nudged your side. “I would say reckless. Between the two of us, there are four brain cells and two of them are playing Uno.”

“I agree.” You chuckled. “Pick that one.”

Tom clicked the option and it brought you to the end of the quiz.

“We made it! We survived!” You cheered as you turned to high five him. Tom high fived both your hands and before slinging an arm around your shoulder.

“Thank you for having us Buzzfeed.” He said into the camera. “I haven’t been Y/n L/n.”

“And I haven’t been Tom Holland.” You smiled. “Until next time.”

Tag List 🏷

@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling @weirdr-artiest @serendipitous-amor @dummiesshort

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[skzsauce01]

Bird Is the Word

Synopsis: A series of drunk texts leads to one of the best and worst things that has ever happened to you. Or, Han Jisung is never going to let you forget the time you forgot the word ‘bird.’ College AU. Not a text fic but does include some texts.

Warning: alcohol, a lot of bird puns

Word Count: 8.1k

Pairing: fem!reader x Han Jisung

2:23 AM [Me]: sOS SOS SOS SOSOSOS 2:23 AM [Me]: I NEED HELPPPP 2:23 AM [Jisung Bio]: You okay?? 2:23 AM [Me]: YOU SMART HELPPPPP

2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Do you want me to call the police?? 2:24 AM [Me]: WHAT ARE THE FLUFFY ANIMALS THAT GO FLAP CALLED 2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Is this a code word? 2:24 AM [Me]: THEY GO FLAP AND EAT SEEDS 2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Do you mean birds? 2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Are you drunk?

2:25 AM [Me]: [blurry_photo_of_your_window.jpg] 2:25 AM [Me]: HERE LOOK 2:25 AM [Me]: YES BIRDS 2:25 AM [Me]: THANK YOU SOOOOO MUCH 2:25 AM [Me]: LOVE YOUUUUU

In your defense, you were drunk. And when you are drunk, your critical thinking skills disappear and are replaced by pure, uninhibited stupidity. It’s like some twisted Jekyll and Hyde situation, but only when you drink, you transform into this other version of yourself instead of suppressing it.

You mostly remember the things you have done and said while under the influence. The most embarrassing ones tend to be fuzzy. If it weren’t for the grainy phone video taken by Seungmin and your own voice cheerfully declaring that you had an idea, you wouldn’t have realized that you were the idiot who tried to make a chalk mural at the four-way intersection in the middle of the night. You didn’t even have chalk, but that didn’t stop you from drawing on the asphalt with a broken pen you found on the sidewalk.

Good thing Seungmin had the foresight to drag you back to the crosswalk before a car could come speeding by.

However, that legendary act of idiocy doesn’t even compare to this new one. Forget the fact that you could have died.

Your biology class just went over survival of the fittest using Darwin’s finches as an example. How in the world did you forget about the word ‘bird?’ Why did you think it was a good idea to ask the cute guy in your bio study group about “THE FLUFFY ANIMALS THAT GO FLAP?” And why, why, why did you insist on telling him that you loved him? The ‘THANK YOU SOOOOO MUCH’ was already enough.

Jisung is never going to let you live this down.

It’s fine. You’re fine. It’s not like you spent the entire Sunday morning knocking back glasses of water and wishing it was vodka instead. It’s not like you drafted about five different apology messages and deleted them all. It’s not like you have to see him in class tomorrow.

Really, you’re fine.

You go out of your way to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible, which probably means you are very conspicuous. Do normal people not wear hoodies and sweatpants to class now, or are you just overthinking everything? The two people in the row in front of you are wearing jeans, and the girl heading down your row has a polka-dotted dress on. A secondary glance at the girl tells you that it’s another member of your study group. Speaking of the study group, maybe you should find another one. Preferably one without Jisung in it.

“Morning,” Lia says as she takes the seat beside you. She sets down her purple water bottle on the floor with a light clink. “How was your weekend?”

Terrible, but you say, “It was fine. I finished up the readings and did some notes. How about you?”

“Those readings took me forever!” she groans. “I was trying to finish everything on Saturday, so I could go out on Sunday. Which I did manage to do, so it all worked out. I got a new dress!” She plucks at the bodice of her dress, and you finally take a closer look at the pattern.

They’re not polka dots. They’re freaking birds — swoopy doves with outstretched wings. Or at least you think they’re doves. Your lack of bird knowledge speaks for itself.

“It’s pretty,” you hollowly say. The universe seems determined to remind you of your texts. Lia’s face falters, and you realize your disdain came across as you lying. “No, it’s not like that! Just… bad experiences with birds. You look really nice in this.”

She brightens up. “Oh, thanks! What do you mean by ‘bad experiences?’ What happened?”

“Good morning, birdbrain!”

“That happened.”

Looking far too happy for a Monday morning, Jisung takes the other seat beside you. He has a cup of coffee stacked high with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle, and you wonder if his extreme cheerfulness is from the caffeine or from your impending public humiliation. Why did you have to pick this guy to have a crush on? Sure, he’s cute and smart and sometimes nice, but there are plenty of people who have those traits without his witticism.

Lia looks at you with more amusement than concern. “So what happened?”

You tell her about what really happened during the weekend, and Jisung laughs all the while, reenacting his facial expression when he received your first frantic SOS message. Meanwhile, you sink lower and lower into your chair, ignoring your tailbone’s cries of pain as you slide further down the thin cushion.

“You can’t hide forever,” Jisung remarks as he looks at your slumping form. “C’mon, it wasn’t that bad. And you were drunk anyway.”

Yeah, you were, but the whole thing is doubly embarrassing because of how much you want him to like you. The overenthusiastic, all-caps messages are normal whenever you text while drunk, but ‘I love yous’ and the even rarer ‘I LOVE YOUUUU’  are few and far between. Only six people excluding Jisung have received them: your parents, your best friend, and your statistics group project members because you accidentally sent the message to the wrong chat.

On the bright side, seven is a lucky number. It means absolutely nothing in this case, and it’s hardly relevant to how you’re feeling, but everyone copes differently. Yours just happens to be clinging onto any silver lining available for solace.

“Anyway,” Lia cuts in, saving you from replying, “you’re here early, Jisung.”

He shrugs and flashes her a playful smile. However, his eyes are focused on you when he says, “You know what they say: early bird gets the worm.”

You give him a pitiful attempt of a withering glare. “I hate you.”

“Okay, fine.” He tugs at the shoulder of your hoodie to motion for you to stop trying to melt into the ground and to help you up. “It’s ‘cause I knew you would be here early.”

You are calm, you are fine, you will not be flustered. He just teased you five seconds ago; you should not be this willing to forgive him under these circumstances. Nonetheless, you slide back up to a more normal sitting position and try to pretend that you are still mildly upset. His next sentences make that impossible.

“You guys want brownies? Felix was stress-baking again.”

One may call you easily swayed by food, and they would be right. Jisung lets you have a coveted corner piece, and you decide that he’s alright again. He stretches an arm in front of you to get to Lia, and you lean back to avoid bumping into him. It also gives you a clear view of his profile. Wow, is he pretty. Look at that jawline. Suddenly his eyes go wide, and his mouth splits into a familiar excited grin.

“Are those birds?”

“Yep,” Lia answers, looking over at you to check your reaction. She tries to hide her smile, but it’s clear as day. You’re not entirely sure what she’s going to say next, but you already know it’s going to involve your current least favorite animal species. “Pretty… dove-ly, don’t you think?”

At least you were right about them being doves. “I hate you both.”

Jisung laughs at her pun and holds out his palm for a high-five. “You know what they say: birds of a feather flock together.”

“I really hate you both.”

Your initial prediction that Jisung is never going to let you live this down is correct. When you meet your bio group again Thursday night to study for the upcoming quiz, Jisung brings lemon poppy seed muffins for seemingly no other reason than to tease you. His housemate is still stress-baking, and judging by the bird silhouette made of glaze, Felix is very stressed and very eager to indulge in Jisung’s ideas.

“They’re finches!” Jisung proudly announces as he sets one right in front of you. The stupid decoration on top mocks you, but the muffin looks and smells delicious.  

Hyunjin, who does not know about your current plight but does know about Darwin’s finches, appreciatively coos at them. “They’ve even got different beak shapes! These are so cool. Man, Felix must hate econ right now.”

“No kidding,” you mutter as you begin peeling off the wrapper. Felix must hate you as well because one bite of this is almost enough for you to forgive Jisung again. It’s that good. How are you supposed to stay mad at Jisung when he gives you free delicious food? “Forget college, he needs to be in culinary school.”

He smirks from across the table, and it takes a lot of willpower for you to pretend you’re unphased. “What if I told you that I made these?”

“Then I would call you a liar.” He better be lying. You do not need another reason to justify your crush on him.

“And you would be right.” He slides his plastic container down to Lia, who has just arrived and is eyeballing the muffins like a predator. “But I did help him.”

“It’s really good,” you admit. You continue nibbling on it, determined to make the muffin last as long as you can. “What part did you help him out with?”

“The birds on top. Turns out drawing them with runny glaze is hard. I gave you the prettiest one, so don’t get mad about the whole bird thing. It goes with what we’re studying too.”

“Fine,” you sigh as you fold the wrapper into halves over and over again. “But only because these are amazing.”

Hyunjin leans in closer, effectively popping the intimate bubble you and Jisung were in. “What’s ‘the bird thing?’”

Fortunately, Yeji has finally arrived, which gives you the perfect excuse to stop Jisung from letting another person know of your drunk texts. You make a big production of pulling out your notebook from your backpack and rifling through your pencil bag for a pen.

“Should we get started?” you ask. Lia nods and uncaps one of her many highlighters.

“I’ll tell you later,” Jisung whispers to Hyunjin, winking at you. You could cry, melt, die. You could do a lot of things, but you opt to stick your tongue out at him. So what if you’re being childish? You can barely concentrate on the real world after that wink. To Yeji, he says, “There’s snacks, if Lia hasn’t eaten them all yet.”

“Hey!”

Hyunjin laughs at her notorious sweet tooth before turning to Yeji. “He gave Y/N the prettiest one, so there’s probably only his fails left.”

“They’re not bad!”

Lia has only had two, so there are more than enough to choose from. Yeji peers inside the container before selecting the one closest to her.

“Is this a plague doctor?” she asks as she suppresses a laugh. “It’s got a top hat.”

Jisung shakes his head and groans. “You chose the worst one on purpose. It’s one of Darwin’s finches. You would have known if you studied.”

“It’s not my fault you can’t draw.” Taking no notice of Jisung’s affronted expression, she takes out the textbook the five of you split the cost to buy. “Okay, plague doctor cupcakes out of the way, what are the four main theories of evolution?”

“They’re lemon poppy seed finch muffins,” he clarifies.

“That’s not an evolution theory,” Hyunjin cheekily replies, earning him an elbow nudge from Jisung and a laugh from everyone else.

You end up answering Yeji’s question and reward your correct answer with another muffin. Besides them being addictive, you’ll need some energy for the rest of the study session if all this talk about birds persists. You select the most plague doctor-ish one out of the box, and Jisung notices.

“Seriously?” he pouts. “I give you the best one, and this is how you repay me? I thought you said you weren’t mad about the bird thing.”

You ignore the last sentence. “What? You’re not proud of these?” you say, mock astonished as you give him a good view of the glaze on top. “They look exactly like plague doctors.”

“I hate you.”

You smile and shrug before returning back into the discussion about Lamarckism. Let him get a taste of his own medicine.

Unfortunately, as promised and as possible revenge, Jisung tells Hyunjin about ‘the bird thing,’ and Yeji overhears since she is only two chairs away. You try melting into the ground instead, but Lia holds you in place as the story continues, so you are stuck reliving the memory. You knew Jisung wouldn’t let you forget, but you didn’t account for everyone else in the group finding out and joining in on the torture.

But thanks to Jisung’s brilliant idea to bring those spectacularly decorated muffins, he doesn’t go unscathed either. It’s a mediocre consolation prize, but you’ll take it.

All around, it’s a productive study session, if a bit long, courtesy of everyone’s unrelenting shots at you and Jisung.

Your study group splits off in three separate directions once you’re all at the library entrance: Yeji back to the on-campus dorms where she’s an RA, Hyunjin and Lia to the off-campus apartments a few streets down, you and Jisung to the bus stop to your apartments on the other of campus. There’s a few people already sitting at the bench, so you and Jisung stand under the streetlight nearby. A moth intent on reaching the light source rams itself repeatedly against the glass covering, and you tiredly watch it. You yawn.

“Not much of a night owl?” he asks. With no clever reply ready, you gently shove him towards the bushes, but he only sways at your push. He throws his hands up in surrender. “Alright, I’ll stop for today.”

“I’m really sorry for sending you that,” you say. You haven’t touched the chat between you and him since the incident. “And for not apologizing earlier.”

“It’s alright. Although I almost had a heart attack when you sent me ‘SOS’ like five times.”

You grimace as you remember your frantic texts. If you think back hard enough, you remember furiously tapping at your screen, trying to get his attention as quick as possible because you really, really, really needed to know what the animal that landed on your windowsill was called. Your housemate was in the next room over. You could have asked her instead, but no, you decided that Jisung from bio was the best option. Not even the group chat, just Jisung himself.

“Sorry again,” you weakly reply.

“It really is alright. Finding bird puns is my new favorite hobby now.” He wryly smiles. “I have so many more to try on you. You’re gonna love it.”

Is that endearing or annoying? Living rent-free inside his head isn’t terrible, especially since he seems to do the same in yours. You’ll probably have to endure lots more puns from him in the future, but for now, you’ll decide that it’s endearing.

The bus arrives, and you sit in the back with him. The ride to the apartment complex is quiet; only a group of people near the front are speaking to one another in low voices. Jisung makes no attempt at continuing the conversation, and you are content to stare out into the neon lights outside the window. You can see him in the reflection on the glass. The empty container devoid of muffins sits on Jisung’s lap, his phone placed face down on the lid. If it weren’t for all the other passengers on the bus, you would be convinced that it was just you and him, enjoying each other’s company.

You’re almost sad when you reach your stop.

“Do you want me to walk you to your apartment?” he asks as you step down to the pavement. “Yours is farther down, right?”

“Isn’t your place right here?” you say. You’ve seen him walk out from this particular complex several times while waiting for the bus. That’s not stalking. “You don’t have to go out of your way. It’s just a block away.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely walking you home.”

You hesitate a bit, but Jisung is already taking small steps in the direction of your apartment. A little more time with him doesn’t sound too horrendous right now. “Okay.”

Just like the bus ride, no conversation, which suits you fine. Jisung seems more enthralled by looking into the windows of apartment residents anyway. You can’t blame him, especially when it appears that someone is having their own mini rave in their living room. Once at the doors to your building, you thank him and tell him good night.

“No problem and good luck tomorrow.” His voice is softer at night, or maybe it’s because he’s tired as well.

Your tone matches his as well. “You too. See you in class then.”

“Good night.”

A few minutes after midnight, just as you’re about to get into bed, a message from Jisung pops up. Not Jisung in the study group, just Jisung.

12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: Hey, I know you’re not much of a night owl, so would you call yourself a morning lark? 12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: You’re always an early bird to class 12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: Are you emu-sed? 12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: :D

Well, he did say he would stop for the day. It’s technically the next day. You reply with an annoyed face before burrowing yourself under your blankets. There are other things to worry about, such as your quiz in nine hours.

You dream of birds, namely finches, that night. Thanks, Jisung.

“This is why I tell you to never drink alone,” Seungmin laughs. He picks up the last slice of pizza from the pan and folds it in half like the heathen he is before taking the first bite. “Bad things always happen.”

“To be fair, Ryujin was home.”

“In a completely different room from you.”

You groan and supplement your exasperation with an extra aggressive tear on your crust. “Okay, fine. I’ve learned my lesson. The point is, he won’t stop with the bird jokes, and I’m going insane.”

Seungmin, having been collateral damage from your drunken mishaps before, is unsympathetic. He still hasn’t quite forgiven you for the time you tried to make a Molotov cocktail in his kitchen. Look, the clickbait video you watched online promised that it would be a fun and easy science experiment, and your other self decided that it was a fantastic idea. Nothing bad happened in the end though since you couldn’t find a lighter. So, Seungmin, it really wasn’t that big of a deal.

“You have a crush on this guy. Why are you upset that he’s flirting with you?”

“He’s cute until he opens his mouth and starts giving me grief about birds.” You sigh as you remember the last text he sent: a photo of the sunset from his apartment window with the caption, A bird’s eye view of the neighborhood. On one hand, you were thrilled to have received a non-homework related picture. On the other hand, bird joke.

“You would do the same.”

“I know, but it still sucks.” You wipe your fingers with a napkin and amuse yourself with spinning the empty pan as Seungmin (slowly) finishes eating. “No more Jisung talk. How was your date?”

Seungmin turns flustered, just like you knew he would. “It wasn’t a date! I’m just her photographer. This is a business arrangement, nothing else.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say.”

“Hey, is that Jisung over there?” he asks, nodding over your shoulder.

“I’m not that gullible,” you sigh, though you can’t say you aren’t tempted. Seungmin loves to make fun of you, and he probably wants to get back at you for teasing him about the girl he’s been spending a suspicious amount of time with.

“Gull-ible?”

“Not you too," you plead. It's already awful with one person. To deter him any further, you continue, "Anyway, back to your definitely-not-a-date date—”

“Hey, Y/N, is that you?”

Seungmin has his “I told you so” face on. After sending him a glare, which he promptly pretends not to see, you turn around, resting your forearm on the back of your chair. Jisung, holding a pan of oven-fresh pizza, smiles back at you.

“Hey,” you greet. He's wearing the same black and red sweatshirt he usually has on, but why does he look so much better in it when he's in a pizza place than in class or in the library? “How are you doing? How’s your Saturday so far?”

“I just woke up like an hour ago, so it’s been pretty good, I guess.” His eyes go to Seungmin, who is now sipping on his soda, pretending to not eavesdrop. “Is this your…”

“This is my friend, Seungmin,” you quickly answer. Other than the fact that you need to make it abundantly clear that you are available, there is no way you’re ever going to date Seungmin. Apart from the girl he claims to not be dating, he’s even more merciless when it comes to reminding you about your drunken ideas. You can’t pass the intersection without him nudging your arm. “Seungmin, this is Jisung. We have bio together.”

Seungmin nods like he hasn’t heard of Jisung before. “Hey, nice to meet you. So, do you guys learn about birds in bio?”

Jisung lights up like a Christmas tree, and you want to cover yourself with the pizza pan. Praying for the ground to swallow you up also sounds like a decent option. In the midst of debating whether hiding under the table would be too odd, you notice that Seungmin has finally finished his slice.

“We should get going,” you interrupt. You do not need Seungmin to start sharing other stupid things you’ve done. He’s about five seconds away from telling Jisung about the intersection chalk mural. “And you probably want to eat dinner.”

Jisung sees right through your act, but he lets it go. “Yeah, Felix is probably starving. See you on Monday?”

“Yeah, see you.”

You expect him to go to wherever Felix is, but he still remains behind you. With a lopsided grin, he asks, “Should I expect any quail-ity texts at 2 AM tonight?”

Seungmin laughs, Jisung laughs, and you stare at the ceiling, wondering what you did to deserve this. Surely there were other people you could have in your life besides these two jerks.

“Winner, winner, chicken dinner!” Jisung sings as you correctly answer his question. This week’s study session consists of a game show Jisung has created, and you almost want to believe that he put in all this effort just to say that phrase. “Another point for you.”

You sigh as Yeji slides a wrapped piece of candy towards you. It’s her turn to bring snacks, and though milk chocolate the size of golf balls are great, you’re still dreaming of those wickedly delicious cake slices Jisung shared with you yesterday. Hummingbird cake, he claimed, it was called. Bananas, pineapples, and pecans, all combined together to make a sweet treat. When you cheekily asked why his housemate was so stressed all the time — you really don’t mind. Sorry, Felix — Jisung cheerfully informed you that he made the entire thing himself. After you picked up your jaw from the floor, you stammered something about it being passable. Not nearly as good as Felix’s stuff, you said, lying through your teeth. Jisung, again, saw right through it but let it slide. See? Sometimes he’s nice. However, you did not need another reason to be attracted to Han Jisung, but here you are.

“Seriously, Yeji?” you mumble as you pull apart the blue foil. “You just had to pick the brand named after a bird?” It doesn’t stop you from popping the chocolate into your mouth though.

“They were on sale!”

While you and Yeji bicker about Dove chocolate and how the universe is conspiring against you, Hyunjin answers the next question correctly. Yeji absentmindedly pushes his reward towards him.

“No chicken dinner for me?” he asks.

Jisung shakes his head. “Your question was easy. You get a pheasant instead. Or a quail. Any bird smaller than a chicken works.”

“A hummingbird then?” you suggest. You really need to stop thinking about that cake. “But I hear those aren’t that great.”

“You already ate every single crumb of that cake I gave you!” Jisung says, but there’s not a drop of displeasure in his tone. In fact, he seems rather happy that you liked it so much that you remembered about it. “All my hard work gone in five seconds.”

“You made her a cake?” Lia gasps in disbelief, secretive note checking forgotten. She’s in last place with only six points, so no one cares too much about her cheating. “What about us? We’re your study buddies too!”

Hyunjin and Yeji chorus their agreements, and you realize that he only shared his cake with you. He followed you out of the lecture hall and gave it to you in a plastic container, so you assumed that he also hand delivered a few slices to everyone else. Never mind that he oh-so-conveniently had a fork with him. Never mind that he sat with you at a bench and watched you try a few bites before devouring it all. Never mind all that.

Wait. Does this mean he likes you too?

You fold and unfold your discarded foil wrappers as you contemplate over this revelation, sneaking glances at Jisung all the while. He looks… normal. Infuriatingly so. Same carefree smile, same arguments with Hyunjin, same lackadaisical chair leaning even though he fell backwards that one time. How is one supposed to tell if someone actually likes you when said someone is the same all the time?

Jisung promises to bring something for the next study session to make up for not sharing his cake and continues on with the review game like nothing has happened. However, those thoughts are still in the back of your mind when the session ends. You have gained five more pieces of chocolate and no further information as to whether Jisung is actually into you or not. As per usual, you and he head to the bus stop together. It’s more crowded than last week since it’s only eight.

“Did you have a pheasant time today?” he asks, pausing next to a hedge.

You keep your eyes on the asphalt instead of looking at him. It’s much easier to pretend you’re calm when you don’t have vision of his face. “I see you discovered pheasants recently. And yes, it was fun. Thanks for making it.”

“You don’t want to crow about winning the game?” When you grimace — you did kind of want to point out how amazing your score was but now you don’t — he quickly adds, “Okay, okay. But you’re going to ace that quiz tomorrow.”

And you simply say, “I know,” because you are and because you have nothing else prepared to say.

It goes quiet, and with only the sounds of cars racing by, Jisung abruptly says, “This is a little awkward now. Or should I say… hawk-ward?”

You groan and break your staring contest with the road to give him an exasperated look. A mistake because he’s smiling so wide, squirrels would be jealous of his cheeks. He has no right to be so cute after those jokes. “Why do I feel like you searched up ‘bird puns’ online and are trying to insert them in every possible scenario?”

“Because I did and because I am.” He sighs in contentment. “Those were the best texts I’ve ever received. I’m never letting you forget it.”

You were right about that, and now you have verbal confirmation from the man himself. Another mediocre consolation prize you will gladly accept. But for now, you say, “Well, toucan play at that game, plague doctor Han Jisung.” The only perk of hearing all these wretched jokes is that you are now rather knowledgeable about them. Thank you, Seungmin, for making that one a few days ago.

“They looked just like finches!” he protests, but he’s laughing along, head tilted back. He sighs again. When he turns to face you again, his eyes are soft. “That was a pretty good one.”

“Seungmin came up with it.” There’s a warm feeling spreading across your chest, constricting your air flow and making all your blood rush to your cheeks. It was one compliment; why are you like this? What are you going to do if he keeps looking at you like that? You swiftly go back to the road, counting the number of cars that pass by. One, two, three, four…

And a gray bus pulling up to the curb.

“Bus is here,” you uselessly announce. Jisung follows you into the growing crowd surrounding the entrance. He hovers behind you as the two of you wait for the people in front to board, and his presence is more palpable than usual. “There’s a lot of people today,” you remark in a vain attempt to distract yourself.

“Yeah, everyone’s heading home for the day.” He pauses dramatically before adding, “The birds are all going back to their nest.”

The joke successfully snaps you out of your haze. “That’s not a real saying.”

“I think it should be. It makes perfect sense!”

“You’re—” As the line shuffles forward, you try to think of something bird related, but he beats to the punch.

“Cuckoo?”

It’s almost impressive how much time he has invested in annoying you. Does it make you fall for him more? No, not really, or so you try to convince yourself. It’s strangely endearing, just like everything about him. You merely answer, “Yes.”

He chuckles and nudges you forward up the steps of the bus.

Even though there’s a little bit of daylight left, Jisung walks you back to your apartment building. You’re not upset by this, but where was this chivalry two weeks ago after the first study session? You teasingly ask him about it, and he turns bashful. How unlike him.

“I thought you lived in my complex, for some reason. You were always at the bus stop before me, so I assumed you lived nearby. I didn’t know until I overheard you and Yeji talking about it,” he says, hiding himself with his collar.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” you say, stopping in front of the walkway to your building, “see you tomorrow then. Thanks for walking me back. Good night.”

The Jisung you’re used to seeing, is back with a mischievous smile and yet another joke. “Good night-ingale.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and try not to seem too amused by it. He’s not charming, not even a little bit. “That was awful.” It’s the smile, you tell yourself. No one should have one like that. It has too much power.

“Yet I can see you smiling at it.”

Remain calm. You can do that. You’ve faked this before, so why is your head not cooperating right now? Jisung really needs to stop looking at you with anything more than a neutral face. It’s bad for you, like really, really bad. No witty remarks at the ready is typical, but you can’t even think of anything to say.

After an excruciating five seconds, you manage to stammer out, “Good night.” Cheeks aflame and your heart threatening to pop out of you like a cuckoo clock, you roughly yank open the door and bolt up the stairs. You have too much adrenaline in you right now. Waiting for the elevator knowing that he could be observing your twitchy movements, would be too nerve wracking.

Ryujin asks if you’re alright when she sees you hunched against the kitchen counter, out of breath and muttering to yourself.

“I decided to take the stairs,” you say, which only partially explains your dishevelled state. “I’ll be alright. I think.”

“I’ll get you some water. You look like you're about to collapse.”

Then your phone chimes with a new message, and you decidedly won’t be alright.

8:22 PM [Jisung Bio]: Did my nightingale pun quack you up that badly? 8:22 PM [Jisung Bio]: Was it that ducking good? 8:22 PM [Jisung Bio]: :D

8:23 PM [Jisung Bio]: Anyway, good luck tomorrow. Sleep well and sweet dreams, morning lark

There is no food in the fridge. Well, no proper food. A bag of spinach that expired three days ago but still seems okay, does not count. The same goes for the half empty jar of peanut butter, but Ryujin would likely disagree with that. There’s a reason why the jar is half empty. However, if you actually want to eat something for dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow, you need to go shopping.

For some strange reason, it does not occur to you that you can run into Jisung at the grocery store. Jisung belongs in four locations: the bus stop, the lecture hall, the library, and the pizza place you saw him at last week. Not the dairy aisle on a Wednesday night.

“Hey.” You stop in front of him, basket at your feet and hands folded in front of you like the world’s worst defense. Heart, stop beating so fast.

Jisung looks up from his phone to search for the owner of the voice and brightens when he sees that it’s you. “Hey, morning lark.” He has taken to calling you that ever since he sent that particular message. You wish it produced another reaction from you besides pure bliss, but that is the price you pay for pretending to be still annoyed by his jokes. That’s how bad your crush on him now is; you are increasingly beguiled by the puns. “Oh, did you need milk?”

“Yeah.” You grab a blue carton with a picture of a smiling cow from the shelf and place it in your basket. In the meantime, you can’t help but peer into Jisung’s. There is a bag of chocolate chips and a packet of gelatin. “Is this stuff for tomorrow’s study session?”

He nods and grabs the same brand of milk as you did. You get a rush of excitement, much to your chagrin. It’s just milk, and this is the most popular brand too. “Yeah. Felix is trying a new recipe, so you guys get to have some of the failed ones too.”

“What is it? Cheesecake?”

“You’ll see,” he mysteriously says. Then he adds, “You’re gonna love it,” which immediately gives away the theme.

“It’s something to do with birds, isn’t it?”

“You’ll see.”

And when you do see, you’re wrong. Library food rules ignored, at each seat, Jisung has set a slice of layer cake topped with chocolate ganache, no bird motifs of any sort. You take your usual spot at the end of the table and find that yours is slightly larger than the others. Well, except for maybe Lia’s. He has to placate her sweet tooth and her disappointment of not being able to have hummingbird cake.

“Did I not get a message or something?” Hyunjin asks when he takes in the over-the-top display. “Is this a dinner party?”

“Isn’t this against the library’s rules?” Yeji asks as she surreptitiously looks around for any librarians. The surrounding tables of fellow students won’t care.

Jisung elects to not answer Yeji’s concerns. “This is tonight’s snack,” he proudly replies. “Also, Felix wants feedback on it.”

You cut a section off with the plastic fork and marvel at the airiness of the cake. It’s unlike anything you have ever had. The frosting in between the sponge layers is so light, and the ganache is so dark and rich. “This is really amazing. It’s so fluffy. Wow. Tell Felix that he really needs to consider culinary school.”

“Wanna guess what it’s called?”

“Isn’t this just an extra fancy vanilla cake?” you ask. You take another bite, but other than the chocolate ganache on top, you can only taste vanilla. “I don’t know. The… vanilla fluff cake?”

“Nope.” He leans forward, face inches away from yours, lips curled into a smirk, and slowly says, “Bird’s milk cake.”

This can’t be real. Birds don’t even produce milk. “No way. You’re lying.” Even as you say the words, they sound false to your ears. Jisung has made it his mission to find anything and everything bird-related for you, so you doubt he’s lying.

“It’s called this” — he holds up his phone screen — “in Russian. It translates to ‘bird’s milk.’”

Ptichye moloko.

“You convinced Felix to make this, didn’t you?” you say. What are the chances that Felix conveniently wanted to make bird’s milk cake without any nudging from Jisung? Absolutely none. You have never even heard of this dessert before, let alone by it’s Russian name, and you’re willing to bet that Jisung searched up ‘bird cake’ or something of that nature just for this. Maybe that’s how he found out about hummingbird cake too.

“It’s all for you, morning lark,” he cheerfully replies, winking at you. He leans back in his chair again, precariously balancing on the two back legs. “I knew you’d like it.”

Jisung is really not making this easy for you. Forget subtleties, he’s just shamelessly flirting with you now. And in the sanctity of the library of all places! In a poor attempt to save yourself from this mess, you unconsciously begin to slide down the chair, trying to shield your hot face with your raised shoulders. Lia notices this — one of the perks having sat next to you for nearly four weeks during lectures — and grabs your forearm.

“No melting,” she reminds you, “or else you’re going to hit your head on the seat again.”

“I wasn’t melting,” you protest as you wriggle back up. Slowly dying might have been a better descriptor. That wink shot arrows into your already fragile heart. “We’re gonna get in trouble if one of the librarians sees this.”

“Guess we should get started then,” Hyunjin says. Yeji, the only responsible one in the group, begins pulling out the textbook, and everyone laughs at her eagerness. “Not what I meant, but that too.”

After you’re done with the cake and while the others are preoccupied about the timeline of human evolution, Jisung whispers across the table, “Did you still like it?”

“Yeah. No hard feelings about the name because it was good,” you whisper back.

“I thought it would turn out like this, morning lark. I know you love free food too much to be mad.”

The nickname again. You rest your cheek against your palm in a vain attempt to tamp down the growing heat. “Can I get a different name, plague doctor?”

He’s not at all phased by his own nickname, which doesn’t bode well for any future snarky remarks from you. “What, you don’t like birds or something?” He blinks so innocently back at you that you have to stifle a giggle.

“Yeah, well, that’s the—”

“Hey, lovebirds,” Hyunjin interrupts, making you profusely blush and Yeji lightly laugh at the expression, “we’re gonna move on to the next section now. Is that okay?”

“It’s okay,” you reply even though you are most definitely not okay. Jisung, who you notice is uncharacteristically sheepish, echoes your sentiment.

It’s difficult not to stare at Jisung during the remainder of the study session. It seems to be true the other way around as well.

You’re sober when you read the messages, but you don’t think Jisung was when he sent them. Oh, how the tables have turned.

3:02 AM [Jisung Bio]: Good morning morning lark!! 3:02 AM [Jisung Bio]: Winner winner chicken dinner remember? So yes or no?

3:03 AM [Jisung Bio]: Or maybe yes or yes? 3:03 AM [Jisung Bio]: I really want to go on a date with you 3:03 AM [Jisung Bio]: Not lying I swear

3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re always on my mind and every time I see a bird, I think about you 3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: I bought grey goose because of you 3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: [jisung’s_hand_holding_grey_goose_vodka.jpg] 3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: I don’t even like it that much

3:05 AM [Jisung Bio]: You make me dizzy sometimes and I don’t know what to do 3:05 AM [Jisung Bio]: You’re probably sleeping so good night larky 3:05 AM [Jisung Bio]: Or morning

3:06 AM [Jisung Bio]: Fly high in your dreams!!!

He must have been wasted and under no responsible supervision because this is what you would have done if you were in his place. Does he not have a Seungmin in his life? Or a Ryujin? There’s a Felix, so where was he when all of this happened?

But forget about Jisung’s own problems.

He wants to go on a date with you. A real date, not a study date with three other people and fake quiz questions. If his words are to be taken literally, then one involving a chicken dinner. Possibly a rotisserie chicken from the grocery store, but a chicken dinner nonetheless.

He can’t stop thinking about you. All those bird jokes had you charmed, and all those cakes were baked with you in mind. They weren’t just for show. They were all about you.

You make him dizzy, which is hilarious because he does the same to you. He smiles at you so brightly, laughs so easily, and flirts so shamelessly that you never realized that you could ever make him feel that way.

And “fly high in your dreams?” You’re practically soaring in real life. Han Jisung, cute bio boy, plague doctor, pun enthusiast, surprisingly decent baker, wants to go on a date with you.

You, you, you!

While you alternate between hyperventilating and forgetting how to breathe as you process all this, three gray dots appear at the bottom of the chat. You clutch your phone as you wait. Apparently, your body is on the ‘forgetting how to breathe’ cycle.

11:14 AM [Jisung Bio]: I am so sorry about that. I was very drunk when I sent that

11:15 AM [Jisung Bio]: You can just ignore them or delete them 11:15 AM [Jisung Bio]: Highly recommend deleting 11:15 AM [Jisung Bio]: Also sorry if I woke you up

Your fingers hover over the keyboard. Should you answer him over text, call, or in-person? Is in-person too dramatic though? You feel like something like this is supposed to be done face-to-face, but he’s probably hungover beyond belief.

11:16 AM [Me]: It’s okay. A morning lark is always up early anyway :) 11:16 AM [Me]: Were you serious though?

11:17 AM [Jisung Bio]: Can we meet up in an hour? At the bus stop? I want to talk to you 11:17 AM [Me]: Yeah. Me too

The bus stop is neutral territory or maybe just the closest meeting spot you and Jisung have. If it’s supposed to be neutral territory, it most definitely is not since his apartment complex is right behind it. Despite his close proximity to the spot, you arrive first, so you make yourself as comfortable as possible underneath the sign, standing in its shadow. It’s silly when you think about it, but you wish you dressed in something nicer than a hoodie. In your rush to leave the apartment, you threw on whatever, but maybe you should have worn something prettier for this confrontation. Make Jisung go dizzy and gain a little bit of power from that.

This is even worse than when you had to face him after you sent your drunk texts. At least then it was just a middling attraction and not a full-on crush.

“Hey, morning lark. You’re early. As expected.”

“Hey. You’re… alive.”

Jisung is strangely fresh-faced, not a hint of hungover clouding around him. Why can’t you look like him after a night of seemingly heavy drinking? Where are the pinched eyebrows from the blinding lights? The ghostly gray face? The haunted eyes as one remembers all the incredibly stupid things they did the night before? Unfair. Completely unfair.

“Yeah.” He’s wearing his usual sweatshirt, but his hands are stuffed into its pockets instead of being out and about. He rocks back and forth on his heels. “Well, uh, I meant everything I sent. And I’m serious about taking you to dinner, so do you want to go on a date with me?”

You anticipated this. Why does it feel like you have just finished running a marathon? “Yeah, I do. I really want to.”

He smiles so brightly, the sun would be jealous. Correction, should be jealous. You don’t think you’ve seen a prettier sight than this since he sat down next to you on the first day of class and asked if you wanted to start a study group. He pumps his fist in the air like he’s a movie character, and you hide your laugh behind your hoodie sleeve. You’ve never seen him so happy before.

“How are you not hungover?” you ask as he raises his face to the sky, taking in the afternoon light, basking in the moment. He’s really living his movie character dreams. “You said you were really drunk.”

“I kind of lied?” he says, sounding more wistful than you would expect. When he looks back at you, you finally see dark circles underneath his eyes, but he is still as jubilant as before. “I was more tipsy than drunk. So, when do you wanna get that chicken dinner, winner, winner?”

It’s amazing how shy, excited Jisung disappears and how the usual casual, teasing Jisung reappears. That’s his Jekyll and Hyde moment, you suppose. And the switch is all activated by his one-track mind of bird jokes. How wonderful.

“Next week, after midterms? I’ve got two this week to study for. I should be free on Friday night.”

He enthusiastically nods. “Sounds good to me.”

2:57 PM [Me]: I’m done with all my midterms! Are you free tonight?

2:59 PM [Jisung Bio]: Free as a bird :D 2:59 PM [Jisung Bio]: Also congrats on being done 2:59 PM [Me]: I hate you

3:00 PM [Jisung Bio]: So chicken dinner? The restaurant next to the pizza place just opened 3:00 PM [Jisung Bio]: I heard it’s really clucking good 3:00 PM [Jisung Bio]: A hen out of hen

3:01 PM [Me]: I might actually kill you during our date

3:02 PM [Jisung Bio]: Don’t you mean 3:02 PM [Jisung Bio]: [flock_of_crows.jpg] 3:02 PM [Jisung Bio]: Murder :D

3:05 PM [Jisung Bio]: I’ll see you at 6? 3:05 PM [Me]: See you then

You do not end up murdering Jisung on your date, though you do come pretty close after you audibly ask the ground to swallow you up when he compliments your egg-cellent outfit.

“Swallow?” he slyly says. “Like the bird?”

Instead of committing a crime, you kiss him on the cheek, effectively silencing him. You’ve been waiting to do both those things for some time now, and look at you now, killing two birds with one stone.

Jisung turns a delightful shade of pink and mutters something about needing to get to the restaurant before it gets too crowded. All of his bluster from just five seconds ago is gone. You merrily follow him down the pavement, feeling a little bit like the cat who swallowed the canary.

Yes, you did search up bird expressions beforehand. Jisung will be Jisung, and like you told him before, toucan play at this game. You will not spend your first date with him being humiliated by his large repertoire of puns. Besides, if he retaliates like you expect him to, you will have the perfect excuse to kiss him again.

See? No fowl play at all.

Then he takes your hand into his, his warmth enveloping yours, and everything suddenly isn’t fair again.

And based on his all-too-pleased grin, Jisung knows this as well.

~ ad.gray

[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.

[kawaragi]

# keisuke baji. durmstrang!keisuke au / harry potter au. fem!reader. takes place during a triwizard tournament event. keisuke is a year 5 student.

# okay i know i mentioned gryffindor!keisuke once but like now . lets consider durmstrang!keisuke <3

“did you hear? keisuke baji’s got a crush on you.”

“i heard that too - lucky you.”

who the hell is keisuke baji, anyway? you have never heard of this name during your years at hogwarts, sure as hell not a new student either. “who?”

“keisuke baji? durmstrang? you’ve seen him when they came to the great hall,” your friend said, though they weren’t looking at you as they were particularly busy writing on their already halfway-done essay.

“i don’t recall - oh, the guy with the uhh…” you make an attempt to remember what this keisuke baji looked like. you remember your friends singling out the one attractive boy in durmstrang’s group of boys that they had sent over to hogwarts. “he had a low ponytail right? because of the little hats that they wore.”

“yeah, that’s right,” your other friend said, except they had completely abandoned their schoolwork to talk about this seemingly attractive boy. you’d be a liar if you said that one particular boy isn’t handsome, he is, but you wouldn’t try and shoot your shot - you guess. “but! he has a crush on you, apparently.”

that statement made your nose scrunch. “how? i’ve never spoken to him before… i don’t think - not that i remember - hey, we’ve never been in the same area. at all.”

your two friends squint their eyes at you, which ultimately made you fluster. “oh please, you guys believe me, right? please.”

keisuke had no idea that he was being talked about among hogwarts students and some of the students from the other visiting school, beauxbatons. he wasn’t interested in finding his ‘one true love’ at his age and this point in time, he was present to show his full support to whoever was going to be chosen as durmstrang’s champion for triwizard tournament.

he lied about the crush thing, all he wanted was to be left alone. he had heard your name and managed to put two and two together with the way you turned around as a response to who called your name. it was the only one that stood out to him despite only staying at hogwarts for merely a few weeks. he could’ve used any other name but…

yours stood out to him.

a few days after, you were far too distracted to watch where you were going and pay no mind to the incoming students in front of you. as a result, a shoulder-check happened too often. drowning in thought, perhaps you were dwelling too much on how you answered your defense against the dark arts teacher or how you’ve written your answer for the pop quiz in arithmancy, it was obvious you were in too deep in the brewing thoughts.

keisuke had been walking that day, coincidentally towards your direction. he fancied the stone circle after a friend he made recently, chifuyu matsuno of the hufflepuff house, mentioned it to him.

all of my friends will be there, you should come with us! need some familiarity in this school, don’t’cha?

what’s the harm in making friends? it’s not like he’d see them again once he leaves. not like they’d write him letters off to bulgaria. not like he’d find any use for the stationery his mother had bought for him to use for his friends. there’s no harm, right?

“shit! i’m so sorry- i-i didn’t see you-”

“i’m fine, see? oh- it’s you!”

you look at him, eyes blinking before realizing that your hand has been on his forearm the entire time after you collided with this kid - impressively stable and… strong. “me? wait- huh? oh, wait, you’re…”

“keisuke baji!” the boy seemed far too excited to be talking to you. in some way, his enthusiasm to be speaking with you made you feel quite warm; when was the last time someone had been this excited to be exchanging a few words with you? “i-i’m sorry, i assumed you know me-”

“i do know you,” you said, fighting back a smile when the oh-so famous keisuke baji was practically crumbling in embarrassment in front of you. he’s cuter up close, but that was all he was - cute. “i’m-”

“i know your name,” he cut you off, and that was until he grabbed hold of your wrist and began pulling you away from the crowded hallway. the students thought of this rather differently, expressing ooo’s and whispers to one another.

keisuke pulled you into an empty hallway, thinking that he was going to do something to you, you had your wand at the ready, to which he frowned upon on. “i just wanted to say i was sorry for using you and saying i had a crush on you.”

he looked genuinely sorry, but you don’t let go of your wand, instead you lower it. “i thought that was peculiar… i’m sorry to ask but, what’d you do that for?”

keisuke sits down on the empty bench, his fingers entertwined with one another as he carefully forms and chooses his words. “ever since i got here at hogwarts, i couldn’t go through the day without someone asking me if i’m seeing someone.”

you sat down next to him, but keeping a safe distance from him to make sure he didn’t feel uncomfortable nor you. to someone who isn’t keisuke, maybe this was something that’s too little to whine about. pushing somebody’s boundaries like this was of course not kind nor needed.

“i’m sorry you had to go through that, baji,” you told him. instinctively, you reached out to rub his back, but you barely knew him so you retracted your hand back.

“it’s okay,” he told you with a smile. this time, though, you could see his fangs. nobody told you his canines were sharp. it was like his charm. “you can rub my back, hug me or hold my hand - i’m joking. but… i won’t say no to back rubs.”

you hesitated at first of course, feeling like you were in no place to be touching him like you’ve known him for a long time. but it seemed like he really needed said back rub. “thanks for listening to me, even if it’s short notice.”

“it’s no problem, but let me know if you need anything, or a question about hogwarts. i might be able to answer it.”

he cackled at your statement, reaching out his hand in front of you for a handshake. it was like a natural thing for you to shake his hand, as if… you’ve known him for a while now. “it’s a pleasure to finally spoke to you and hear your voice!”

“likewise! i guess i’ll see you around, then?” you asked, a smile adorning your face. though your face had started to feel strained - you hadn’t smiled this much since speaking to keisuke.

“that you will. i promise.”

[issaxcharlie]

Owen hosts Couple tag

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Artist Fem Reader

Summary: We play pretend world guys✨ (I missed them, I’m SoRryyyy.) So, Charlie wants some reassurance after starting to prepare his proposal to Y/N and makes this “genius” plan with Owen to find her answers without being suspicious. (She totally knows tho) also a lot of friendship fighting between Owen and Y/N because I had to, I made myself laugh a lot so I’ll hope at least makes you smile🤧🤣Anyways, have fun!

This is also my weird and nonsense way of doing sweet @marvel-ousnesss request of the we play pretend couple to do a couple buzzfeed quiz 💖

The blonde takes a deep breath before picking up his phone and heading to the living room, where his couple of friends and roommates are on the couch. Charlie is lying down watching television and Y/N is lying on top of him with her face snuggled into his neck, he hugging her around the waist while gently running his fingers down her skin.

The plan was simple, to help Charlie plan the perfect proposal and give him an idea of what she expects from her wedding, they were doing a “Couple tag” video. That way the questions wouldn’t be as suspicious. Of course, there are easier ways but we are talking about Charlie. They convinced Kenny to call her and tell her that it was to promote the second season that is currently being filmed, and she agreed.

Charlie mentioned many times that someone else had to ask her the questions because she reads her boyfriend like an open book, so his improvisation had to be perfect to keep his best friend’s clever girlfriend out of the hook.

He decided to start the live from his room so as not to give the singer the opportunity to think much about it, so he sits in the living room and focuses the image on his friends who are not affected in the least by their positions. After all, everyone already knows that they are a couple and that they live together.

“Hello, I’m Y/N Y/L! And yes, that sexy, beautiful, adorable and talented man is my boyfriend, Charlie Gillespie.” He blushes as the memory of their first night back as a couple invades the mind of the Canadian, who had his girlfriend in exactly this position when she was, as she said, 'practicing' her introduction. Sadly, this time it will not end like that night because his best friend and about 500,000 people are watching.

“Welcome to my first edition of the Couple tag everyone! Here's my first guest couple, I know it’s not much, but I promise to find someone worthwhile next time, this is just for practice." Charlie laughs but looks nervous. Instead, his girlfriend sits down and rolls her eyes.

"I can't believe you chose him over a puppy or a hamster." The girl says to her boyfriend while laughing at her friend's offended reaction.

“I'm going to write that down in my long enemies list, but for now I have a live to lead. Okay guys, so basically I will ask them questions and I will also choose who answers them because I’m the only one hot enough to call the shots here."

She laughs and sticks out her tongue. Charlie sits down too and she takes his hand to fiddle with it. She keeps arguing for a few minutes with Owen but shows no signs of not wanting to play the game so he starts before she regrets it.

“Okay, first one is for Charlie. How did you guys met? This is actually a good one because a lot of the fans think you met on set and are like this really intense couple who started to date the very first week without even knowing each other’s last names.”

They both start laughing at the comment. The truth is that they have seen multiple posts and comments online from people judging their relationship and how fast they were going, especially when they did that last interview together and Y/N said that Charlie was taking his sweet time to ask for marriage, since for the fans they only have one year and months of knowing each other.

“We have known each other since forever. Our moms were best friends and we were born only a few weeks apart so we've always been together. We grew up as best friends and were dating before Y/N moved to New York to play Daniela on Stardust." Charlie tries to shake off the memory of the last tearful kiss before Y/N got on the plane. Hopefully he’ll never have to part from her for so long again. Sometimes he can't even understand how he managed to get through those 5 years.

"So no, we don't know each other for just one year, but 22." She adds, kissing his nose.

"Y/N, honey. I didn't ask you, don't be rude and wait for your turn." Owen says teasingly, the girl laughs and throws a pillow at him.

“Okay, rude again. Y/N, What is the first thing that he ever gave you?”

“Oh my, this beautiful valentines card! We were like eight I think. The paper is red, and it is filled with gold and silver glitter stars. Inside is a big star that has written in the middle, “My bright star, happy valentine’s day. I love you. And a lot of doodles of my favorite things, like my guitar, a microphone, chocolate, and a little Charlie. Just adorable, I still have it and to date it is one of my favorite gifts.”

The emotion with which she responds makes Charlie's heart melt. That was the first time he called her bright star, and he kept saying it to her during every audition, every performance, every practice. The exact reason not even she knows, but maybe one of these days he'll tell her.

“Rude and a liar. The 22-year-old Charlie's handwriting is horrible, the 8-year-old Charlie handwriting could only be close to a squiggle, nothing more. Oh, and probably only you had the ability to read it. I very much doubt that was beautiful."

She opens her mouth in surprise and wrinkles her nose, feigning annoyance. “I liked you more when you had a crush on me. You were nicer.”

Owen's eyes widen and he turns to see Charlie looking for help but he just starts laughing. “Wh- What are you talking about, mean girl?”

“Oh c’mon, you totally did, Ohio.” She smiles at the camara while showing a superiority face.

“Really? I already told you a thousand times, I'm from Oklahoma. But hey, how funny, forget about Stardust and audition for Funny Girl!”

“Jokes on you, I would nail Fanny Brice.”

“Man, defend my honor!”

“Bro, I can’t. You totally did, I even got worried for a second there.” It is incredible to think about how their friendship has grown and matured over time. They went from Owen fangirling every time he saw her to being really good friends. All these fights are more of a show than anything else, the truth is that when nobody is recording they tend to be very cool around each other and the three of them have quite a pleasant dynamic now that they are living together for the show.

“I won, Idaho. Now, please continue.”

“Well, my friends embarrassed me on my own live. I can already imagine the headlines tomorrow. Anyways, Charlie, Would you let yourself in danger to save her?”

Charlie starts laughing as he drops his head on the girl's shoulder. "I think she's not going to let me lie, I always have and will continue to do so. For me it's always her safety first."

"Which has given me more than a scare but he's so freakin stubborn." She adds while looking stressed and Owen can't help but imagine all the situations Charlie must have put himself in before.

“I prefer you scared than in danger, beautiful.” He grins and kiss her lips, her facial expresions relaxing at his touch.

“Gross. Y/N, do you prefer a small wedding or a big wedding?” She can feel Charlie tense at the question, so she leans her body back to support it against him and give him a lowkey reassurance.

“I hadn't really thought about it, but I know that my almost mother-in-law has been planning it all her life so you should check with her.”

His mom. Y/N is right, as always. His mom is their biggest shipper and the wedding is probably something she’ll want to be an importart part of, maybe way more than with his brothers since she adores the girl as much as her own kids, and the fact that his girlfriend is even more aware of that fact than him makes him smile.

“Do you love it when someone refers you as ‘her boyfriend’?”

“Always. Especially if it's her. She has that little knack of saying it whenever she can and it’s the most adorable thing in the world.”

“Oh I thought she was just showing it off to me because she was intimidated by our chemistry. I don't feel so special anymore.” Charlie chuckles and sends a secret air kiss to his friend, who just smirks and fakes to blush.

“How would you handle it if you thought another man was hitting on her?” Owen asks the guitarist raising an eyebrow.

“She usually takes care of that situations, her method is to take me by the shirt and kiss me hard on the lips. I’m never going to complain about that.” Charlie says smirking and blushing.

“We are a celebrity couple, for better or for worse. I’m not having him in a fight when I can just kiss that beautiful lips and solve the problem.” Charlie smiles as he wraps his girlfriend in his arms, so she can't see his face with the next question.

“What do you dream of your marriage? Mmm, let’s go with Y/N.”

“Anything will be perfect if I spend it with the man of my life. My Char is my everything and my biggest dream is to live my whole life laughing by his side.” Owen pretends to vomit as Charlie fills her with kisses under the ear, clearly moved by her answer.

“Let’s get to someting less cheesy because I really can’t with you both anymore. Has anyone ever tried to break your relationship?”

Charlie rolls his eyes and thinks for a moment. “Yes. We were like seventeen, and this guy from hockey had this big crush on her, so he tried to flirt with her many times even though everyone knew she was my girlfriend, until one day that he made her too uncomfortable and things escalated between him and me. Luckily my brothers intervened before something else happened because he was much bigger than me. I would have totally lost.” He chuckles while his girlfriend turns to see his face and gives him another sweet kiss on the corner of his lips.

“Yes guys, they are this annoying all the time. How do I survive? A lot of yoga. Next question, If three guys are standing, and you have been blindfolded, then how would you recognize him? Guys we actually did this like three days ago on set.”

“It was awesome! We put my bandana on her eyes and since it had my smell she couldn't be guided by that to choose.” Charlie explains excited.

“We got the three of us, first Jeremy then Charlie and then me in front of her, then she began to lightly touch Jer's hand. Then she went to Charlie's, it didn't take her a minute to recognize him and she took him from the hair and draw him to her lips, it was actually a pretty smooth and risky move, I’ll give you a point for that, prodigy brat.”

“Char's body inadvertently reacts to mine. It was pretty easy to tell the difference, especially after touching Jeremy's hand.” She turns her head to give Charlie a soft kiss on the lips and then Owen starts laughing like crazy and telling her to come see a specific comment.

She gets up and goes to sit next to him, Owen changes the camera so that now they are the ones in the image and she begins to read aloud. “Charlie I could give you my... Oh my god!” Owen continues laughing, resting his head on his friend who simply watches the screen in shock.

“Thank god Charlie doesn’t know how to read.” Owen, who was just recovering from his giggling fit, laughs again as Charlie giggles and sticks his tongue out at his girlfriend.

"Who needs to read when you look this hot with sleeveless shirts." He jokes while winking at his partner, which seems to melt in front of the camera that is still pointing directly at her.

“The man has a point. Okay, Y/N move your ass back there I’m still in charge of this show. Would you prefer a silver or gold ring?”

She makes sure to move off the screen and sticks her middlefinger at Owen before heading back to her place with her boyfriend. “Good and really random question.” She smirks, not making contact with her boyfriend. “I don't have a preference, but I would love Char to design it. Obviously with the correct guidance, but yeah he choosing every detail and then explaining to me why he choose it would be the dream.”

Charlie smiles. He was already imagining something like this after so many years of gifting and has already been visiting the jewelry store several times to make sure he designed the perfect ring for his girl, a slight feeling of pride filling him.

“Which series does she thinks resembles your relationship?”

“She loves Boy Meets World and see a lot of us in Cory and Topanga. I can totally see it too, after all they too have known each other their whole lives and have a bond as strong as ours.”

“Well that explains why she’s always telling me ‘Life is though, get a helmet’ instead of actually help me.” She grins at the memory of Charlie’s last prank on Owen a couple of days ago, it was really good since she secretly helped him plan it.

“Man, It wasn’t personal. I do the same with Char. I’m not going to be known for being the one ruining prank war. Take it to the end of the road, if you need me to take you idiots out of jail I totally will... eventually.”

“My girl, everyone. Isn’t she awesome?” He watches her adoringly and she blushes in response, buring her head on his neck.

“She always has this enormous energy and personality but all it takes is for you to see her for her to melt, that’s... kind of cute actually. Okay next question Stardust, What about If Charlie tells you to marry him tomorrow?”

For the thousandth time that night Y/N can feel Charlie stressing out. The fact that he planned together with Owen and Kenny all of this just to make sure he was on the same page with her is the most adorable thing in the world.

“I’m pretty sure he knows I would always say yes. He could have gotten on a plane when we were 18 and told me ‘I don't want to be without you, let's get married.’ And I would have said yes. He’s my person, I have nothing to think about, I have always known it’s him."

Now it's Charlie's turn to melt, and Owen himself can't help but smile.

Charlie's confidence in what he has planned is higher than ever, and the day when he can finally make it official is near. He has been dreaming of this day with his Y/N for years and he will finally get it.

“Well guys, that was it, give it up to my favorite couple of dumbasses and please stop asking obvious questions. Will I be Y/N’s maid of honor? Of course I will. Oh, and tune in next week to see me becoming Kenny’s new favorite after I challenge Y/N in a dance duel with I got the music. Golden star is GOING DOWN."

Thank you for reading✨

NEXT PART HERE

Taglist: @writerinlearning, @ghostofmgg @strangerthanfanfiction713, @thebloodthirstyvampress @kinda-really-lost, @kcd15, @magnet-girl, @aliandthephantoms, @stxrkspidey, @pinkrockstar19, @s0uz4s, @shycupcakealissa @cookiebuba, @fangirlangioma, @sageellsworth05, @twist3dtinkerbell, @sunsetcurvenotsunsetswerve, @caitsymichelle13 , @ifilwtmfc, @luckylouiebug, @bibliophilewednesday, @totomoshi, @siennanoelle01, @lunashadow6955, @bookfrog247, @morganayennefertyrell, @kiss-themoongoodbye, @rachelle3musicals, @imsydneywalker, @really-dont-forget-it @agentstarkid @talksoprettyjjx @kaitieskidmore1 @lukeys-giggle @katie-navarro @crybabyddl @cocopuffs0211 @marvel-ousnesss @blackhood5sos @dpaccione @tuttigunner

[air-in-words]

My Sorting Hat Chats Journey

So, hi! I'm back!

I've been doing fun stuff off in the real world, but I decided to talk a little bit about my own Sorting Hat Chats sorting journey, and how it says a lot about self-acceptance, and how understanding who you really are can sometimes only come from being an active participant in life. Here we goooo...

The Beginning

So, my initial sorting was a Burnt Badger/Bird. This had struck me, because I'd never considered myself a Badger in ANY media. I was seen by my friends as a borderline loner, someone who didn't need anyone else. And yet, all the signs were there.

Looking back on my life, I've always migrated in groups, always looked for a nesting ground, and truly that's all I want. A place to nest, a place to rest, where I can feel safe and surrounded by people who love me. But, after a childhood filled with bullying, I found myself embarrassed of my bold face need for friends, and, for some reason, decided getting too close to people for too long was unwise, so I could probably never have a permanent home. And yet, I always found myself in these little "groups," little packs of people that all travel together.

I've always had these friend groups, where everyone knows each other, we all hang out together, and yet it always manages to eventually fall apart. I asked one of my friends how this keeps happening, and who keeps setting up these groups. She blinked sort of vaguely and said, "uh, you do." It was such a strange realization to look back and see myself as the "shepherd" I was, always creating a flock wherever I went. I had always been the spoke of my friend wheels, the only one that was friends with everyone, or actively tried to be friends with everyone. And I would attempt to hold it together, but it would always ultimately shatter, and I'd leave to find and form another. Family is important to me, and it isn't enough for me to bond with one person. I like for all my friends to be friends with each other, for us all to hang out together and enjoy each other's company.

So, although I still struggle, Burnt Badger came out on top, and I believe is still at the top to this day. I still search for belonging. I still search for family. And, yet, my heart seems to have no intention of unburning. Until recently, I had no idea why.

On the other hand, the secondary I received, Bird, seemed to fit like a glove, and was very obvious to me. I've been called the Encyclopedia before, I was made fun of for being caught reading the dictionary like it was a book, and I always seem to have a "fun fact" for every occasion. And all of this seemed to flow directly into me trying to use these facts and this knowledge to win people over, to get to see me as someone that could be their friend, or that I could be reliable as a member of their "group." So, Burnt Badger/Bird simply made sense. The reasons for me avoiding unburning my primary were irrelevant.

The Now

I'd been gone from this side of Tumblr for a bit, and decided to return on a whim. Saw @wisteria-lodge still posting as much as ever, and saw a lot of my posts had been passed around in the meantime (thank ya by the way) and decided to dive back in, because since then, so much of my life has changed. I've had certain people out of my life for a while that were a hindrance on my self-acceptance, I've moved out of my childhood home, and left a job I've had for the past 5 years. I've been forced to constantly LIVE, to make choices, actual choices, and have been offered the chance to be who I truly am, unapologetically.

So, I took the quiz again, curious if I would come up any different.

I got Burnt Badger/Burnt Snake.

This time, I was almost insulted. A flush of memories, of past feelings came to me, most of all the need to push back, to insist in exasperation I'M NOT A LIAR, as though I was tired of defending myself. As hard as I tried, I somehow couldn't seem to get Bird secondary to reappear.... at all. Which was so crazy, because before, that was pretty much all I could get.

So, I went to the experts, the aforementioned wisteria-lodge and @sortinghatchats .

I looked through the Snake secondary tags and found myself lost in memories I had pushed down, so far down even I couldn't find them, wracked with shame and a need to hide this side of myself, something I'd hidden so well I'd pretty much convinced myself it had never existed.

Being a Bird had always been a choice for me. I decided that was what people must want, becoming intelligent, knowing all of these things, showing off, that would make people like me. But, although I can devour books like nobody's business, and I tend to worry and whinge before every major decision, feeling unprepared, I would always find myself falling short of my own expectations. The amount of times I'd promised myself and others to create a plan and study hard, ultimately fail to do so, and then lie to everyone about it was astounding. My public image continued to be "air-in-words the smart girl" but my private image was still LIAR and FAKE.

I would still somehow get all A's. I was very good at remembering facts and excellent at taking tests. I always thought of them like little tricks themselves, meant to trip you up, but if you paid attention, you could figure out the patterns and be able to bluster your way through stuff you might not even fully understand. You can figure out certain words through context clues, and I was always very comfortable trusting my memory with little preparation beforehand. And yet, I still lied and told everyone I'd studied, at least as a child, before high school.

Math was what eventually messed me up, and sent my self-image whirling into the ground. My grades suddenly went from straight A's to D's and F's. My parents were aghast, what had happened??? I was so intelligent, so smart, such a good student. What had gone wrong?? And, although I never admitted it outloud to them, I knew the answer. With math, you can't trick your way out. You either know how to do it and give the right answer, or you don't. And I had never studied a day in my life, never practiced, never worked hard at all. It was my horrible little secret and math had outed me. It continues to out me, because rather than actually work at it and get better, I managed to keep my grades through high school afloat by leaning on my other grades and taking remedial math courses with a teacher who loved me very much and would let me off easy. To this day, honestly, I can barely count. I might actually have some form of dyscalculia, but I know that if I were willing to try a little harder I could get better. But, why would I do that, when this way works just fine? Just coasting through? But, again, no one could know. Not even myself.

Through high school, I began letting people in on my secret Snake, because being a "slacker" was suddenly cool. I still couldn't let my parents know, or the teachers, but coming clean about not being a keener was what earned me new friend groups. I wasn't some weirdo who actually studied all the time: I was a kid who maybe did 60-70% of my homework and slid by on my good memory and general interest in learning. And my reputation. My reputation was key to my success.

College would be the thing that completely threw me to the ground. There were simply too many sirens singing at me, distractions pulling me away from my work. I'd never looked less like a Bird than in college. I was always skipping class, always not studying, and in fact, would openly fail most of my courses. And I just didn't seem to care. I slid into what I guess must have been a sort of neutral zone, but I wasn't happy. The mask was slipping off and I needed out. I couldn't keep up this charade anymore. It was stifling, trying to be a Bird, going to college for a very Bird degree, surrounded by actual Birds, it was all very much what I didn't want. I wanted something less "academic," less, well, boring. Maybe more Snake like.

And, so, here we are. Currently dropped out of college, living in an apartment with my friend, away from my parents' prying eyes, and with a new job that I chose for myself. On the brink of finally understanding myself, and maybe accepting myself as I am.

My Badger primary is burned because of my Snake secondary. Because I thought I was a sham, a liar, a con, and I didn't feel like I deserved to have people close to me. Those traits are bad, and I was a bad person. No one should be tricked by me.

But, after reading some of the stories from the experts and other Snake secondaries, I found this crazy thought, that perhaps being this way isn't a bad thing. Maybe I'm not a bad person. Maybe it's okay to be who I am. Maybe I can use these "powers" for good, and they aren't inherently evil.

So, at least for now, I'm choosing to identify as Burnt Badger/Burnt Snake with Bird Model. Seeing how it feels to accept myself and not try and force myself to be who I think I should be, or who others want me to be (which is a Snake secondary thing in the first place. Lol!)

For Fun, Here's Some Crazy Actual Snake Secondary Things I've Done That I'm Trying to Be Less Ashamed of Now

When I was little, I used to make up crazy stories about things I'd done to seem more interesting. The one that makes me cringe the most is that my uncle has a statue in his backyard that comes to life and goes on adventures with me. My uncle DID have a statue in his backyard that I really loved but no, it didn't (and still hasn't) come to life.

Some of these, I can't explain, like this one, where I somehow had more than one teacher convinced I'd handed in every piece of homework before the one I was giving them the sob story about that day. I literally had a teacher look me in the face, tell me I'd been handing in my homework really well thus far and knew I was trustworthy, so they'd let me slide with no mark against me. Meanwhile, I had missed the homework for the past THREE WEEKS IN A ROW. I just smiled and let it go. Variations of this situation happened throughout high school and college. And, no, I had no good reason not to do the homework. I just didn't want to do it. Lol.

I usually live in the "neutral state" around my close friends, since I think it's disrespectful not to be straight with them, but I have had to turn it on to help them occasionally. One of my friends was having issues with an ex of hers, she was thinking that maybe she should go back out with the guh, and I had been my blunt, neutral self the whole time, telling her flat out that that was a bad idea. But, it wasn't working. "Neutral state" isn't like a Lion's forceful natural state, I guess. So, I decided I would have to push her in a certain direction to help her get through it. I told her she should go back out with him, and although she did sort of call me out for lying, knowing I didn't actually want that, I told her she should if she really think she should. The dude didn't last one date without showing his ass again, and she thanked me for making her do that. Lol.

Finally, at least for this list, my most prized shameful memory, is when I was taking an acting class in college. We were supposed to create a wordless scene as our final, and I hadn't prepared anything, so I just skipped the day we were supposed to do them. But, I decided to show up for the last day to see if I could still somehow pass. She's going through the grades, and looks up and asks me, "I don't have anything written down for you, I can't remember, did you give a performance or not?" I knew I hadn't then, but decided to give one now. I told her yes I had done one, don't you remember came up with a name on the fly. The same friend from the last story was staring at me like she was about to burst. She thought for a moment, then exclaimed, "ah, of course! Yes, I think I remember. I remember you'd done pretty well. What grade did I give you?" I hedged my bets and said A-. Lol. I had never been filled with more pride shame in my life.

[inkstainedfanfics]

Cinnamon Latte

Request:  Hey there! May I request something for the au trope prompt? Cedric Diggory + coffee shop!au + strangers to lovers + 23: “you know that your book is upside down, right?” I’m a hoe for both Cedric Diggory and coffee shop au’s😭

Word Count: 2,983

Pairing: Cedric x Reader

Requested by: @badass-dora-milaje

He first comes in on a Monday, frazzled, blond hair messy and stuck to his forehead from the rain outside. He’s cute, you decide, as he stands in front of your register, looking up to the menu board with a hopeless look.

“Need some help?” You ask, setting aside the dishes you’d been cleaning. You’re alone in the store, one of your first shifts by yourself since you started working here a month ago, and you’re intent on making a good impression. Alone means you get complete control of the music, and it’s not like the store ever gets super busy after the morning rush, anyway, so you have plenty of time to read between orders. And in this small town you’ve only just moved to, people’s orders are predictable, meaning you can have most of them ready to go by the time they come flying through the doors.

But this guy is new, and he sure looks like it as he looks to you with pink cheeks, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m a little lost.”

“You look like it. What do you like?” You ask as you dry your hands.

“Ummm, water?”

You laugh. “You can’t come into a coffee shop and leave with just water. Come on, there must be something you’ll like. How about a cinnamon latte?”

He shrugs, still utterly hopeless, but you take that as a yes.

“Great! That’ll be two sixty-five.”

As he counts out his change, you start making the latte. It’s one of the simpler drinks to make here, which is only half the reason you chose to recommend it. As you do, thunder rumbles outside, and you dare a glance back at the guy at the counter. He’s clad in a sweater and jeans, no jacket. Isn’t he cold? While late fall isn’t necessarily freezing here, it’s certainly not wonderfully warm, especially in a rainstorm.

“Do you,” he asks as he sets the last coin on the counter, “live around here?”

“I’m new here, actually. Just moved here a couple months back. What about you?”

“I grew up here.”

“No kidding? It’s a nice enough town. Or, what I’ve seen of it, at least.”

“What do you mean?”

You shrug. “I just haven’t really gotten out to see much of it yet.”

He leans against the counter, head cocked to the side as he watches you put the whipped cream atop the coffee. “Why not?”

“It’s so small that everyone feels…close. Like, I don’t know.” Your cheeks warm. “It’s really nothing. I’ve just been busy with work here and…” and nothing, really. The town just seems so close-knit that there’s no room for you. The drink’s done, though, so you have an excuse to trail off. “Here,” you say, setting the drink in front of him. “One of my personal favorites.”

He picks it up gingerly. You’d made it to-go, since few of the town’s residents ever lingered in the tiny lobby, with its two tables and single booth, but the man seems in no rush to leave. Because of the storm outside or your company, you’re not quite sure.

“It won’t hurt you,” you say as he carefully takes a small sip. “So?”

“Delicious,” he says, though he’s unable to hide his grimace.

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s…strong?”

“I’ll put less cinnamon in next time.”

“It’s not that. It’s the coffee.”

“Espresso,” you correct.

“Espresso?” He raises his eyebrows. “Oh no.”

“It’s fine. It’s not that much. I can use coffee next time, too. That’ll be weaker.”

“No. No.” He squares his shoulders like this is some fight with the drink. “I need to get used to drinking coffee.”

“Why’s that?”

His cheeks tinge pink. “I just…it’s something all my friends like to drink,” he says, though he stares determinedly at the drink.

“Where do they get their coffee from?” Most of the people you see rushing through here are older, harried fathers and mothers rushing to work. Not many younger adults. “I haven’t seen many younger people come through.”

He rubs the back of his neck again. “Down the street?”

“There’s a coffee place down the street?” You must’ve failed to have seen it, then, because you could swear this is the only shop in the small town.

“Yeah. It’s small. Nothing, really. Do you, uh, do you like coffee?”

“Well, I do work at a coffee shop.”

He sighs and looks down to his drink. “I’ll like it. Eventually.”

You pick up a rag to wipe up the espresso that had splashed on the back counter. “Are you staying here long? Because I’d be careful sitting on those chairs if I were you. I don’t think anyone’s used them in years.”

He seems about to say something when he notices the clock above the espresso machine. “Is that the time?”

You glance at it. It’d been broken earlier, but you’d managed to dig some batteries out of the back of a drawer in the office and set it this morning. “Yep.”

“Shoot. I’m late.” He begins to back up, stepping toward the door. “Thank you,” he says, raising the cup.

“I hope you end up liking it!” You shout after him as he pushes the door open and rushes back into the rain.

Alone again, you settle down with your book, but the thought of that cute guy and his drink makes it hard to focus, until you give up and just grab the mop, cleaning the store before the post-work rush can begin.

****************************************

He doesn’t show up on Tuesday, but on Wednesday, at two forty-five, when you’re bored out of your mind, he shows up. The bells chime, alerting you to someone’s presence. Expecting Mrs. Keene to be early, you hop to your feet, but when you set your book down, you see it’s instead the cute guy from Monday. His hair’s still messy, but he’s grinning at you, and he seems a little less lost.

“Back so soon?” You tease, leaning against the counter as he makes his way to you.

“I told you, I need to get used to the taste of coffee.”

“I don’t blame you. Same thing?”

“Same thing, please.”

You smile. “Do you remember what it was called?”

He opens and closes his mouth twice, then, with a sheepish smile, shakes his head. “It was cinnamon.”

You laugh. “You’re halfway there. Cinnamon latte.”

“Cinnamon latte,” he says quietly to himself, and you have to hide your small smile. “I didn’t expect to be tested.”

“Well, you should’ve, because now you’ve failed.”

“How can you fail me if you don’t even know my name?”

You glance at him over your shoulder. His smile’s handsome, especially as he toys with a useless stack of business cards piled on the corner of the counter. “Touché.” A pause. “So?” You ask, returning to making his drink.

“Cedric,” he says. “Diggory. I would’ve introduced myself earlier, but you have the name tag and I didn’t even think…”

“That I couldn’t just read your mind?”

He bows his head, chin dipping against the warm orange of his sweater. “Sorry.”

You set his drink in front of him. “You apologize too much.”

He snorts. “I think this is the first time I’ve apologized.”

“And it’s unnecessary. Honestly, you’re one of the first people to introduce themselves to me.”

“They don’t introduce themselves?”

“Well, some of them do, but they’re in such a rush to get to work that it’s hard to place name to face. But Mrs. Keene certainly has.”

“Oh, I bet. She loves to talk.” He takes a sip of the latte. “Delicious.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” and he forces a smile after taking another sip.

“You’re one of the worst liars I’ve ever met.”

“You have no idea how happy it would make my dad to hear that.”

“He’s a stickler for rules?”

He hesitates. “No? Not really. He just…thinks a lot of me. Expects a lot of me.”

It’s your turn to hesitate now. You’ve only known Cedric a couple of days. What are you supposed to say about his family? That you’re sorry? That doesn’t seem right. Nor does pressing the issue and asking further about his family dynamics. He’s cute, but you’re not sure you want to hear about that just yet.

Thankfully, he spares you from any attempt at answering with a soft laugh. “Sorry, that’s a lot to tell you.”

“There you go apologizing again.”

“Sor—” he catches himself. Pressing a hand to his forehead, he shakes his head. “It’s a curse.”

“Apparently.”

You continue chatting, discussing your old hometown, your families, the way the weather has jumped from cold to hot in only a few days. When he finally takes his leave, citing a meeting with a friend, you’re surprised to see a full hour has passed, and you can’t stop smiling the rest of the evening.

****************************************

You have the cinnamon latte ready when he walks in on Friday, sitting and steaming on the edge of the counter when the bells chime. He’s smiling already as he brushes his hair from his eyes. He has something under his arm, pressed against his yellow sweater.

“One cinnamon latte,” you say, returning his smile and nodding at the mug. “Ready to go.”

“I’m getting too predictable.”

“Makes my job easier.”

“Hmm.” He grabs the drink. “No pop quiz today?” He asks before taking a sip.

“Not today,” you say, humming as you start on a latte for yourself.

“That’s too bad. I’d actually studied.”

“Oh?” You ask, raising an eyebrow as you pour some coffee into a small cup.

It’s a book tucked under his arm, and now he holds it up for you. “Yeah. Rented a book from the library and everything.”

You bark out a laugh when you see what he’s holding. Gourmet Coffee Drinks and How to Make Them. “You actually did study. Wow.”

His cheeks turn a light pink, but he’s smiling. “I wanted to pass.”

“Okay. So, I guess I can make a quiz special for you. Let’s start easy. What’s in a latte?”

“Espresso and steamed milk.” He rattles the answer off quickly. He saw this one coming.

“For most people, yes. You get coffee and steamed milk. How about a cappuccino?”

“Espresso and…milk foam.”

“Mmhmm.” You grab the cinnamon shaker. “Now…what about an americano?”

“That’s…”

“No cheating!” You say over your shoulder when you hear the flip of pages.

He flips the book closed. “It’s espresso and cold milk?” He asks, wincing, knowing already he’s wrong.

“Close.”

“Really?”

“Espresso and hot water. And not,” you say, setting your drink on the counter and raising an eyebrow, “anything for you.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Doesn’t sound like it. Thank the heavens for your expertise in cinnamon lattes.”

“It’s my job. Oh, and that’ll be two sixty-five again.”

He pulls out two bills and digs in his pocket, counting out exact change. What a thoughtful customer, not forcing you to do math today. “Don’t you ever get bored in here?” He asks.

You shrug, watching as he holds out a handful of coins. You hold out your hand, and he drops the coin in it, the tips of his fingers brushing your palm lightly as he does so. Your own cheeks warm in response, and you internally scold yourself. It was an accident. “Sometimes, but I can read while I’m here.”

“What are you reading?”

“Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.” At his surprised look, you roll your eyes and lean against the counter, chin in hand. “I didn’t choose it, really. It was a gift that happened to be on the top of one of my moving boxes. I’ve been too lazy to unpack everything so far.”

“How is it?”

“It’s all right. I’ve read better; I’ve read worse.”

He laughs softly and leans forward, elbows catching the edge of the counter. “A stunning recommendation.”

“Hey, I didn’t recommend it. I just said I’m reading it. My recommendations, as you see,” you say, gesturing to his latte, “are always top notch.”

“Well,” he says, swirling the cup, “you were right about this.”

“I told you. I’m great at recommending things.”

“I won’t argue with that.”

A silence falls in the coffee shop, broken only by the soft acoustic music you have playing over the stereo. He’s leaning against the counter, elbows on the edge, grey eyes crinkling with his smile. The slightest hint of stubble lines his jaw, you notice. When you meet his gaze again, he seems more serious, the easy smile replaced by a searching look, and suddenly it’s hard to breathe, and you realize just how near you are, both leaning against the counter. The smell of his cinnamon latte wafts up to you, and you can’t swallow the knot in your throat. You’re close to him, you realize with a start, very close.

Clearing your throat, you shove away from the countertop, cheeks burning, heart suddenly pounding. Why? He’s just a guy. A cute guy. A cute, funny, charming guy, but just a guy. He leans away, too, clearing his throat and gathering up his coffee book, tucking it under one arm. You know, as he sets his coffee down so he can run a hand through his hair, that you actually just might be a goner for Cedric.

Great.

“Mind if I sit here?” He asks, gesturing to the small booth.

You shrug, turning your back to him to hide your own nervousness. “All yours.”

The booth creaks as he settles into it. Though you take a rag and cleaner to it everyday per store regulations, it’s rarely ever used. In your short time working here, nobody’s used it for anything but waiting for their coffee.

Soft music fills the small shop, and you quietly hum along as you set to cleaning the store again. There’s no need for it, but it keeps you busy, and keeps you from looking at Cedric. Occasionally, he flips a page, but you’re very aware of his gaze and how often it seems to stray to you.

Finally, having rewashed all of the dishes, counted the register’s cash twice, and checked the supplies in the back room, you have no other excuses, and you return to the stool behind the counter and pick up your book. You’re about to sit down, hesitate, then head back to the machines and whip up another cinnamon latte.

“Here,” you say, stepping around the counter and to the booth’s small table. “On the house.”

“For me?”

“I don’t see anyone else here,” you say, setting your own drink and book down. “Mind if I sit with you?”

“Please,” he says, half standing as you go to sit. Some old gesture of chivalry or something. His cheeks redden, and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep your nervous laugh from escaping. He settles back into his side and picks up his book. A minute passes, the both of you sipping your drinks, reading, and pretending not to be sneaking glances at one another. He’s virtually a stranger, for heaven’s sake, but you can’t help yourself. He’s cute and charming, and it’s not like you know anyone else in this town. At the very least, you’ve found someone that could be your friend.

You take a deep breath, working up the nerve to finally say, “good book, then?”

“Hmm?” He looks over it at you, then nods. “Yeah. Very good. Riveting stuff.”

“Must be,” you say, fighting a laugh, “if you haven’t even noticed you’ve got it upside down.”

He opens his mouth, then looks to his book. Cheeks red, he laughs at himself. “I do, don’t I? Merlin’s beard.”

“What?”

He shakes his head in exasperation. “I’m sorry. And no,” he says, holding up a finger when you try to interrupt him, “I’m not unnecessarily apologizing. You deserve it this time.”

You set your own book down and lean back in the booth. “Do I?”

“Yeah. I’ve been trying to read, but I keep getting distracted and I just—I think I need to ask you on a date. I’m sorry if this is too forward, or if you’re uncomfortable. I know we haven’t known each other long, and I keep coming to your work, and maybe that’s weird, but you seem nice, and you’re funny, and I really enjoy talking to you. But if you’re uncomf—”

“I’m free at five,” you say, biting your lip in a failing attempt not to laugh at his rambling worry. As if you aren’t interested in him as well. “And I could still use a tour of the town.”

He takes a deep breath, then releases it in a half-sigh, half-laugh of sorts. “You’re not creeped out?”

“Me? No. Why would I be?”

He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s nothing. Just, my friend, Fred, he said I’d be making your nervous, coming in here every day. And getting the book. He and his brother actually have money on whether you’d kick me out or not.”

You shrug. “Beggars can’t be choosers. I need a tour guide, and I don’t really want to hear about every single memory Mrs. Keene has of this place.”

“No, I can’t imagine you do. So, it’s a date, then?”

“Sounds like it.” You smile at him, and just then, the bell rings, and Mrs. Keene and her husband enter. Three o’clock, then. “I should…” you say, gesturing to them, and Cedric nods. His cheeks are a bright red, but he can’t stop smiling.

“Yeah. I’ll be here. Reading, hopefully.”

“Book right-side-up?”

He grins and flips it around. “This time, yes.”

As you round the counter, Mrs. Keene is already talking, rattling off the order you know by heart, and you find you don’t really hear anything she’s saying, heart thudding, glancing at Cedric as often as he glances at you. Five o’clock can’t come soon enough.

[platypanthewriter]

Fuck the Afterlife

Don’t worry, nobody’s dead...that we know.  Harringrove April Prompt Day 24: Afterlife!  A misunderstanding leads to everybody appreciating Billy a whole lot.

Billy couldn’t stop snickering under the sheet, even with Steve’s arms around him, and his face sniffling against Billy’s side, so Max stalked over to the bed and kicked Billy’s leg.  “Shut up,” she slurred, at five in the morning, her hand locked with Lucas’.  Their wedding rings gleamed.  “You’re dead, remember,” she told Billy, “—so shut the hell up.”  Will giggled from over by the window, wiping his eyes, but El still looked solemn.

“You shut up,” Billy hissed back.  “Stop drinking, everybody, jesus, how come I’m the only sober person here.” 

“You think I’m gonna turn down free liquor,” Erica Sinclair said, sitting against the windowsill, and playing with the little umbrella in her glass.  Robin laughed, leaning against the window, tears streaking down her face.

“Because…’cause we all thought.  Thought you were dead,” Nancy muttered, staggering into the foot of the bed, and leaning her elbows on the footboard.  “Steve here was drunk before he even called us.”

“I’m just saying, if I have to lie here like a corpse with a sheet over my face—” Billy started, but Max cut him off.

“Dead men don’t get cocktails,” she said, waving something blue, and taking a swig.  “We gather here to celebrate the life of one Billy Hargrove,” she intoned, to general sniffles and giggles.  “So shut up and listen, dead man, you brought this on yourself.  Billy Hargrove,” she sighed, “—a man I definitely did not know and had no relation to, who died due to gross sex crimes.”

Everyone laughed harder, and Billy threw the sheet back, propping himself up on his elbow to glare around at the Sinclairs, and Robin Buckley, and what seemed like half the town.  His face was flaming.  “Hang on now,” he said, waving his splinted finger.  “I’m not gonna sit here—”

“Lie here,” Dustin put in, from where he sat by Steve’s feet, and Billy flipped him off.  

“I’m not gonna lie here and get accused of gross sex crimes when that’s not even what happened—”

“Don’t you look me in the eyes and tell me you’ve never committed any gross sex crimes, you fucking liar,” Max growled, and Billy stared around at the faces gathered around his bed, opened his mouth, cocked his head, and closed his mouth again.  “And I can’t hear you anyway, you’re fucking dead, shut up.”

“I’m so glad you’re not really dead,” Steve sniffled into Billy’s chest, reeking of tequila.  He rolled to flop an arm over Billy’s stomach and elbowed him in the gut, and Billy oof’d, and then put his splinted hand around his boyfriend, and leaned to kiss his hair.  “Love you,” Steve mumbled, into Billy’s chest.  “Don’t be dead.  I miss you,” he gulped.  “I miss you so much.”

“I’m not dead,” Billy said, for like the nine-hundredth time.

“Look at him,” Max pointed to Steve.  “Look what you did.”

Billy laughed harder, grimacing.  “I just jammed my finger!  I didn’t die!  I definitely didn’t die of any gross sex crimes without you, babe,” he whispered into Steve’s hair, and Steve harrumphed.

“Damn straight,” he mumbled.  “No sex crimes without me.  Love you.”

“Gross, this is a sex crime, my eyes are suffering, oh my god,” Max groaned.

“We’re all suffering, Billy,” Nancy said, finally, putting her hands on her hips.  “How dare you drive yourself to the hospital with a broken finger and not call anyone for nine hours and then drive yourself home—”

“It’s not my fault they got the records mixed up!” Billy yelled again, laughing, and squeezing Steve gently.  “I thought Steve was asleep!  Look, I just jammed my finger and it swelled up, I didn’t wanna wake anybody—” Billy grimaced.

“How’d that happen,” El asked, frowning at his splinted hand, and Billy groaned.  

“I...uh,” he grimaced, reluctant to admit he’d nearly died of what Max would definitely consider a gross sex crime—showering the jizz off himself after Steve fell asleep, he’d had a little jerk-off session remembering how good the night had been, gotten lightheaded as the blood rushed to his dick, and fallen in the shower.  He cleared his throat, grimacing, and felt his face redden further.  “I fell in the shower,” he said, sniffing as though Robin’s snickering was unfounded.

“You gross sex criminal,” Max hissed.  “How dare you almost die of sex crimes—”

“You have people who care,” Nancy yelled, wiping her eyes.  They’d all been crying, Billy registered, again.  It didn’t seem any more believable than an hour ago, when he’d gotten home from the hospital, crept in from the garage so as not to wake Steve, and everyone had screamed, running towards him.  Lucas Sinclair and Max had shaken him until his teeth rattled, both crying, and Nancy Wheeler had hugged him until his back cracked, taking ragged breaths into his shoulder.  Steve hadn’t let go of him since.

Erica had tried to get Billy to lie down with his arms crossed on the coffee table, like a vampire, but he’d rolled his eyes and hauled Steve—and the crowd of crying drunks—upstairs.

Billy was pretty sure he was having a really weird dream.  

“You can ask for help next time,” Nancy said, pointing at him, and rubbing her runny nose.  She flailed a hand behind her, and Robin handed her a kleenex.  “Wake your boyfriend up!  Call me!”

“Yeah, shut up and take your punishment,” Erica Sinclair sighed.  “You turned them into this, now lie the fuck down, you stupid corpse.”

Billy did so, sighing, but he left his arm sticking out to stroke Steve’s hair.  “‘M not dead,” he muttered.

“We gather here to celebrate the life of one Billy Hargrove,” Max said again, “—my brother, who is annoying as shit, and I’m really pissed at him,” she said, her voice shaking, “—b-because I thought he died tonight.”

“Guys,” Billy mumbled, his eyes stinging, now, and she kicked his thigh.

“Shut up.  I had to make Lucas drive me over here,” she said, sniffling, and clearing her throat, “—because I kept letting the clutch out and killing the engine, and all I could think was my brother’s goddamn ghost voice saying ‘—clutch, Max.  Don’t murder my car, Max,’ and then I thought I-I’ll never have to take his shit again—” she covered her mouth, shutting her eyes tight on a strangled noise, and Billy peered wide-eyed at her over the edge of the sheet.  “—and I missed you,” she choked out, and Billy tried to scramble up, but she kicked him in the leg again, bruising, by now, he was fairly sure.  

“Stay there,” she hissed.  “I pulled a sweatshirt of yours on on the way and smelled your stank and I thought—I thought I’ll never smell it again, I’ll have to just—just curl up in this, it’s the last time I’ll smell your shitty cologne—”

“It’s nice cologne,” Steve mumbled.

She stomped forward to kick Billy again, choking back a sob, and Lucas grabbed her around the waist, holding her back.  

“Glad you’re okay, man,” he said, and Billy nodded, relieved, but Erica raised her hand.  

“Foul,” she said.  “This is a wake.”

“Okay, okay,” Lucas said, obviously thinking.  “Thanks for...getting better,” he said, grimacing.  “You...you went from just being Max’s scary brother to saving one of my best friends,” he said, then paused, biting his lips together.  “I’m glad you’re my brother too,” he said, shrugging a shoulder, and Billy groaned and made a face at him, knowing Lucas Sinclair was probably the only person as embarrassed by this situation as he was.  Lucas grimaced back over Max’s head, but grinned.

 After a long pause next to the bed, Will said “I’m so glad you’re not dead,” so shakily even Erica didn’t try and make him keep talking, and then El broke the rules of the fake funeral, and just hugged Billy.

Billy tried not to die of embarrassment as Nancy talked, long and sincerely, about how happy he made Steve, and Steve nodded against his side, occasionally raising his arm with a thumb up.  

“S’all true,” he mumbled.

Robin waved Max and Erica off when they tried to get her to talk, smiling.  She wiped her eyes too.  “I’m just glad I don’t have to call everyone and tell them another gay dude died,” she said, a little bitterly.  “Everybody asks about you.”  Her eyes filled with tears, though, and Billy felt a pang of guilt for scaring her.

Dustin hauled off with a whole best man speech at that point, all about how annoying Steve was when they’d first started fucking, and Billy thought he might melt away at the news Steve had liked him so soon.  Dustin, the little shit, knew exactly what he was doing.  “He kept saying ‘I never want him to leave’,” Dustin said, just dropping that bomb with a sly grin.  “Like, ‘Is that weird?  Am I crazy?  I never want him to leave.’”

“Oh my god,” Billy mumbled.

“S’true,” Steve sighed.

“I am conditionally glad you’re alive,” Erica said, and Dustin started cackling, “—because of the way the hospital told Steve you died.  I was really looking forward to telling everybody,” she said, sighing.

“Wait, what the fuck did they tell you,” Billy asked, yanking the sheet off his face again.  

“And then I remembered I’d lose my quiz night teammate,” Erica said, crossing her arms.  

“Said I c’d do it,” Steve slurred.  “Said—”

“Fucking hell fucking no, Steve,” Erica said calmly.  “Billy told me about when you got the ‘who was president during the first gay marriage’ question—”

“ABE LINCOLN!” Steve yelled, again, and Billy groaned, cackling, as Max snorted loudly.  

“...hun,” Billy said, and Steve shook his head, pushing himself up to frown back woozily.

“All...men...created...equal,” he enunciated carefully.  “Abe Lincoln.”

“I mean, to be fair, that shoulda handled it,” Robin pointed out, and Steve gave her two fingerguns.  

“I’ll stay alive and be your bar quiz partner,” Billy told Erica, crossing his heart, and she narrowed her eyes.

“Good, because your man there doesn’t believe in narwhals,” she said, and Steve groaned.

“Stop lying to me about narwhals,” he mumbled.  “I’ve been to the zoo.  Din’t see any...unicorn...whales.”

“They don’t keep them in cages, babe, they’re still whales,” Billy told him, and got a hard prod.  

“He’s a conspiracy theorist,” Steve mumbled sadly.  “Came back from the dead to lie to me about narwhals.”

“I didn’t die, babe,” Billy told him, leaning in for a tequila-flavored kiss.  

“I couldn’t wait to tell the whole dorm a guy I knew shoved a lightbulb up his ass and electrocuted himself over Spring Break,” Erica said, sighing wistfully, and Nancy and Robin started laughing so hard they leaned in to each other.  Billy shot upright in bed, dumping Steve off his shoulder, and nearly clonking skulls with El.

“I’m sorry, they said what,” he said flatly.  “You guys really believed I stuck a lightbulb up my ass and electrocuted myself?  How fucking stupid do you think I am?!”

“You have me,” Steve mumbled, sniffling and reaching for the Tequila, and Dustin snatched it away.

“Oh, no, buddy, you don’t need any more of that,” he said, and Billy nodded.  

“You don’t need to put a lamp up your ass,” Steve mumbled into Billy’s thigh, sniffling, as Billy laughed helplessly.  “You have me, babe—don’t cheat with a lamp.” 

“Yeah, sweetie,” Billy said, yanking him into a tight hug.  “Fuck heaven, right?  Never gonna leave.”

 Here are my other Harringrove April prompts!

[words-for-holland]

Quarantine Series: The Birthday Week

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: It’s Tom’s Birthday Week! So much planning, food, and surprises....and a special promise from our favorite Q.S. Couple.

A/N: It’s been long overdue...Is it too late to say Happy Belated Tom?! 🥺

A/N: Happier Part 3 comes out this weekend!!

Check the Rest: Burnt Out | A New Look | Secret Cuts & Kisses | Breaking Friendships

May 25, 2020 (T-Minus 7 Days)

An almost average Monday. Its the start of Tom’s Birthday Week and Y/N is trying her best to get ahead of the game and prep up for an over-the-top birthday party for her boyfriend. Well as over-the-top as it can get when you’re stuck in Quarantine because...well...Covid.

The only problem, she didnt know where to start. What party to throw, games to play, food to make, playlist to create, and above all the gift. This year Y/N wanted to give Tom something that held a lot of sentimental value to represent all the love she had for him. While Y/N was lucky enough to have someone like Tom to spoil her and show her just how much she meant to him, she wanted to do the same for Tom. So, she went to the spare room, which had now become her new work space and started googling away.

May 26, 2020 (T-Minus 6 Days)

The next day, Tom and the boys went out for their daily Golf match, while Y/N stayed behind to continue party planning. She made sure to be discreet about it and pretended that she had to take care of a few things for work. In reality, Y/N facetimed her best friend, on advice of what to get Tom for his 24th.

“C’mon Im serious Nico. I want to give him something special this year.” Y/N groaned when she knew her best friend wasn’t giving her the answers she wanted.

“Im sorry, Y/N. I dont know what you could give him. You’ve know him better than anyone else.” Nico reasoned, as Y/N continued her helpless groans, banging her head on the table. “Look Im sure what ever you come up with, Tom is going to love it no matter what.”

“But that’s the problem I don’t know what I can come up with. Our first year together I got him clothes, last year it was golfing gear, I don’t know how I can top that.” Y/N continued to stare at the desk picking up and dropping her pencil repeatedly. “I just know that I want it to be something he can always look back at and know that I’ll always be there for him.”

“Wow. You really like this kid don’t ya?” Nico questioned, but of course she knew the answer to that...anyone did.

“Yeah...more than anything.” Y/N smiles back as she thinks about Tom.

“Well what about a promise ring?” Y/N’s ears perk up at the suggestion.

“Like uhhh a men’s promise ring? Do they even make promise rings for men?” She questions, though isn’t opposed to the idea.

“No, Im talking about a donkey’s promise ring.” Nico rolls her eyes. “It’d be cute and not to mention empowering because you’d be making the first move. Empowering women is super attractive.”

Y/N stops to give it some thought. It would be cute to have a ring for him and see him wear it everywhere knowing he would carry a symbol of her love. Of course it’s nothing like the real thing when couples get married and all, but it’s a step toward that direction. “Ill think about it.” She says.

May 27, 2020 (T-Minus 5 Days)

Y/N had finally given the idea a good 8 hours when she decided to find the ring. She scrolled through pages and pages to find the ring but none of them spoke to her or looked like it was meant for Tom. The more she scrolled the more anxious she got, slowly biting ther thumb nail as she continued.

“You know if you’re gonna do birthday shopping for someone in the house, the kitchen might not be the best place to do it.” A deep british voice popped up from behind.

Y/N shrieked and jumped, quickly closing her laptop, afraid she had already ruined the surprise. Until she turned around and saw it was just Harrison. “Ugh, was it reallg necessary to do that?” She whined. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Of course wheres the fun in simply asking what you’re doing.” He laughed, pulling a chair next to Y/N as he watched her scroll through pages or rings. His smile growing ever so slightly. Y/N looked at him with suspicion.

“Okay I know that smile...clearly you know something I don’t.” She states. “Is this a bad idea?”

Harrisons smile dropped quickly as he profusely shook his head. “What? What? No...I just uhh — actually yeah the rings are not a good idea.” He blabbers. Y/N looks at him, waiting for Harrison to continue. “I mean think about it. If you buy a ring for Tom and he starts wearing it everywhere. People are gonna suspect that he’s getting married or worse find out about your relationship. I don’t know if you wanna risk that.”

Harrison was lucky to be a gifted actor as he improv-ed his answers on the spot in hopes that Y/N did not find him to be too suspicious. If she called his bluff and found out, Tom would make sure Harrison would never see the light of day. “You should go for this necklace. I think it suits him and has a touch of your style.” Harrison points out to a necklace he truthfully thought she should get him. With that, he quickly left Y/N to be on her own in gift shopping.

May 28, 2020 (T-Minus 4 Days)

Y/N’s planning was 70% in the clear. The necklace was ordered, Sam was helping out in planning the food, Harrison and Tuwaine were arranging the golf diversion plan, and Harry was keeping Tom busy making sure he wasnt suspecting anything. Although that didn’t stop Tom from bothering his girlfriend a couple of hours of the day. How could he not, the boy missed his girl.

“Y/N..” Tom cooed as he wrapped his hands around her, kissing a small part of her shoulder. “Can you take a break from whatever arts and crafts thing you got going on and cuddle with me?” He continued as he placed another kiss.

“Babe, I’d love to more than anything but I wanna finish this up so I can at least accomplish one thing during Quarantine.” She explains.

“You accomplish a lot of things darling, and you can accomplish another if you just come and cuddle with your needy boyfriend, who happens to be turning 24....in 4 days.” He hinted, places kisses by ear.

“Oh and I suppose that gives you special treatment?” Y/N challenges, letting out giggles as Tom continued to kiss where she was ticklish the most.

“I would hope so. Now, what do you say?” He smiles at her, placing the small strand of black hair behind her ear.

“Okay you win.” She whispers.

May 29, 2020 (T-Minus 3 Days)

Tom and Harry were busy hosting the Pub Quiz, while Y/N and Harrison took the time to create the decorations for Tom’s party. The theme... Spiderman, but what else was new. Harrison drew up webs and spiders on the deflated red and blue ballooms, stashing them in a paper bag to be inflated the day of. Y/N started on the birthday pub quiz answer sheets, customizing them to have that personal touch of Tom. Everything was going smoothly until, she needed more glue.

“Crap, Im gonna check the closet. I think we have a few spare sticks of hot glue.” Y/N stated, as she got up.

Harrison eyes started to display signs of panic as he quickly got up and raced her to it, guarding the closet door. “Uh...there’s no more. I already checked.” He squeaked.

Y/N raised her one eyebrow in suspicion. “I’m pretty sure there’s a couple.” She fired back, trying to pry Harrison off the closet. “C’mon Harrison. This isn’t funny.”

“I think it is.” Harrison continued to stall. Y/N rolled her eyes, coming closer to him, wiggling her fingers. She tickled his sides, knowing it was his weak spot. His grip started to loosen as he let out fits of giggles. Y/N took the opportunity to quickly open the closet, and grab her glue sticks. She looked around to find if anything was suspicious or worth hiding, but there was nothing.

“You know...you’re acting really weird.” Y/N stated as she walked back to the table to continue her project. Once she was out of Harrison’s sight, he quickly texted Tom about the dilemma. Only to receive:

Time to find a new spot then.

May 30, 2020 (T-Minus 2 Days)

It was Tom & Y/N’s turn to wash the dishes after dinner. The irony both had no clue what one was planning for the other. They were always the type to be truthfully honest to each other, but a few little playful secrets couldn’t hurt. “So, is it just me or is Harrison acting really...strange?” She asked her boyfriend. Tom looked at her, pretending to not know what she was talking about.

“Umm..not sure. He seemed fine to me....Why? What’s happened?” Tom asked casually, focusing on the dishes.

“You know for someone that’s really good at acting, you’re a terrible liar.” Y/N laughed out loud, only to get splashed with water. “Touche. But seriously, he gets so nervous around me. Like someone’s out to get him if I do something he doesn’t expect. I wanted to get glue sticks yesterday in the closet and he straight up guarded the door, saying I wasn’t allowed....in out own closet?! I swear it’s like he’s hiding something in there.”

“Haz, you div.” Tom muttered under his breath.

“What was that babe?”

“Uhh nothing. I was just saying Harrison is a piece of work. Even I couldn’t tell you why he was acting like that.” He lied.

“Uh..huh.” Y/N responded, not buying anything but rather just letting it be.

Tom placed the dishes on the rack, while he came up behind his girlfriend, huggling her tightly from behind. “It’s whatever. But, lets just go back to our room, lay under the sheets, watch some Netflix....have a good time.” He smirked, kissing her temple. “And just cuddle like there’s no one watching.”

“Mmmm. Now that sounds like a plan.” She whispers pulling him to their room.

May 31, 2020 (T-Minus 1 Day)

Y/N only had 1 day left to prepare everything for Tom’s big day. She made sure to stay on top of everyone’s tasks and prepped her gifts for Tom tomorrow. Y/N was extremely proud of everything and everyone that was taking part of her little project. A rare sight anyone would ever see, but the most thing she was proud of was how secretive they were able to keep it that Tom didnt suspect a single thing.

“So, got anything planned for tomorrow?” Tom asked Y/N as she was cooking pancakes.

“Mmm I dont know. Am I supposed to have something to do tomorrow?” She teases.

“Well..” He starts as he takes the spatula out of her hands. “I hear it this div’s birthday tomorrow.” Tom grabs Y/N’s waist, picking her up and placing her on the counter. “And I hear he just wants to spend it with his girls all day long.” Y/N’s legs locked around Tom’s waist as he continues his not-so-obvious birthday wish.

“Oh there’s gonna be more than one girl at this birthday of his huh? He must be quite the player.” She smiles at him, fingers thresding through the small brown hairs at the nape of his neck.

“Well yeah because Tessa is his princess but Y/N, this really cute adorable hot girl who doesn’t think she’s hot but should really start seeing it...that HIS princess.” He explained, kissing every visible spot on her face. “It would make his 24th. Trust me.”

Y/N pretends to stall and think about his wish. He knew he was going to get Y/N and Tom time together no matter what, but where’s the fun in just expecting it. “We’ll see about that birthday boy.”

June 1, 2020 (Party Time!!)

The boys were all out celebrating Tom’s birthday at the golf course at the start of the day. Of course that wasn’t until Tom made sure to get some extra love and attention from his girlfriend first thing in the morning. Y/N quickly rushed to get the decorations in place, while Nikki, Tom’s mother helped in setting the table and getting the food ready with cleR and concise instructions from Sam to ensure they couldn’t mess it up.

“Y/N this was such a wonderful idea. I cant wait to see his face when he comes home.” She exclaims, giving Y/N the most comforting hug.

“Thank you Nikki, I just want it to be perfect for him this year. I mean we’re all in Quarantine and all of us are finally together in one place.” Y/N explains as she places the final ballons up by the doorway.

“Well of this is how you prepare for a birthday, I can’t wait to see how you prep for your wedding.” Nikki responds, only half joking.

“He hasn’t even proposed yet!” Y/N laughs, though the thought makes her stomach flutter in the best way possible. Being married to Tom was all she could ever want in life.

“Well, dont you worry. Im sure it’ll happen, that boy can’t gona second without you I’d be surprised if he doesnt....May just have to chastise him if he takes too long.”

Y/N was starting to grow a bit suspicious. This whole week alone was filled with suspicion. Harrison acting weird, Tom being extra needy and cuddly, Nikki talking about marriage. “Was Tom going to propose soon? “ she thought to herself.

Just in the nick of time, the boys had all arrived after an intense game of golf. They came in bursting in conversation about how great it was, who deserved to win, and of course how Dom was always getting beat at his own game by his sons. Of course the festivities didnt start yet, until Tom took a moment to shower and dress up. It wasnt that he needed to, but for him..it was extremely necessary for today.

Y/N went up to grab her presents for Tom in the work closet, when all of a sudden, a small box landed on her head. She looked up then down towards where the item fell, only to see a sparkling pink and clear diamon cut ring. “Oh my god” she muttered.

“Bullocks.” Tom spoke out loud wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his torso.

“I...uh..Im sorry Tom. I swear I wasn’t looking for it I was just trying to get my gift so I could give it to you. I didnt know this was your hiding spot.” She frantically explains picking up the box and giving it to him.

Tom looked a little disappointed as he stared at the ring. He had worked so hard to keep it a secret from everyone only to get it ruined on his brirthday. “No no no. It’s fine Y/N, really. I just...I was planning on giving this to you next month on your birthday.”

Y/N opens her mouth realizing how bad she messed it up. “Oh my god. Tom Im so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He laughs. “Actually kinda glad you found it. So now I can do this”. Tom gets down on one knee, his towel still wrapped around his torso. “Y/N, I have loved you more than I could ever love anyone in the past 3 years I’ve known you. I swear I could have sworn I was going to marry you the day I met you at the Marvel office with your little black Dell notebook in your hands. Your humor, your kindess, your sympathy and empathy for all living things makes me love you even more. Will you make me the happiest birthday man on earth, and marry me?” He proposes.

Y/N tears up and shakes her head vigorously. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” She cries, repearing the words as she hugs him on the floor. They lean in giving into a passionate kiss, still holding onto each other. Y/N and Tom couldn’t believe it was real. Just a couple of seconds they were boyfriend and girlfriend..now they’re engaged. “Wait. I almost forgot about your presents.” She quickly speaks out grabbing the bag.

“Darling, believe me you were my present. I am beyond satisfied right now.” He chuckles.

“I know, but I got you these too!” Y/N pushes the bag to him. Tom shakes his head as he opens it up find a silver necklace with a retangular pendant, and a major jar full of post- it notes. He observes the necklace and opens up the retangular pendant to find a picture of Y/N and him during their firsf year together. He smiled back at the memory, now seeing as to where they’ve ended uo. Stronger and better than before. Next, he opened the major jar pulling out a small card that read:

For whenever you’re down, need a laugh or missing me.

He picked up a post it note that more pictures of them during their time together with a note saying:

“Remember that you’re the reason we all smile. You are a warm loght of happiness that does not stop giving to the world.”

Tom tears up at the gift. In all his years, no one has ever given him soemthing that held so much sentimental value. “I love you so much Y/N. Thank you for this...for all of this.” He whispers, placing a gentle kiss on her lips.

“Your welcome. I hope you know you mean the world to me too, and I just wanted your birthday to be perfect.”

“It already is...because I have you.” He looks back at her and smiles.

“Cmon birthday boy. Get dressed, we have a party to attend to and news to share .” Y/N laughs as she helps her boyfriend...I mean fiance up. Who said that quarantine birthdays were boring?

Taglist:

@hollanddolanfangirl​ @parkerspillow​

[wildflower-magic]

get to know me

Oh no im being perceived. 

when is your birthday? March 14 what is your favorite color? you know those annoying people who say ‘the rainbow’ because they’re so different and cool...please do not make me choose between colors (it was pink for a while, then yellow, right now it’s lilac. but also yellow. and pink). what’s your lucky number? the internet says 6 do you have any pets? a dog  how tall are you? 167cm  how many pairs of shoes do you own? 12, i think. (some of them are stored away because it’s still summer, so i don’t know the actual number. is 12 pairs a lot of shoes? i feel like 24 shoes is a lot of shoes). favorite song? back to the color dilemma. please, do not make me choose.  favorite movie? maybe im just bad at making decisions...man. fantastic mr. fox is pretty cool. or what we do in the shadows.  what would be your ideal partner? idk i like picnics, holding hands, and laying on the floor listening to music. someone with whom silence will be comfortable.  do you want children? eventually. probably.  have you gotten in trouble with the law? once. for crossing the road with a red light.  what color socks are you wearing? knit socks with black and white and silver thread so they’re SPARKLY. i fcking love sparkles. bath or shower? bath. i do not own a bath, so shower it is. we move.  favorite type of music? ambient probably.  how many pillows do you sleep with? technically one. but i am barricaded by four more.  which position do you sleep in? i fall asleep on my right side with my hands crossed (the pouting/angry way, not the vampire sleeping in a coffin    way).  what don’t you like when you’re sleeping? lack of fresh air. when it’s not cold enough (i sleep with my window open even during winter).  what do you have for breakfast? not breakfast food. tea. soup sometimes. have you ever tried archery? once, a long time ago.  favorite fruit? pears?  favorite swear word? fuck, i think. in my native language, im not sure. i swear a lot, but they’re all ugly words.  do you have any scars? yeah.  are you a good liar? incredibly. i rarely lie though.  what’s your personality type? INFJ. it’s always INFJ. ever since i took a test 10 years ago. no matter which test or quiz i take, it’s always INFJ.  what’s your favorite type of girl? i like kind people.  left or right handed? right. favorite food? potato potato potato! soup!!! dumplings!  are you clean or messy? clean but messy.  favorite foreign food? russian (though i grew up eating it. and you could argue it’s the local cuisine. but since i do not live in russia im saying it’s foreign food). how long does it take for you to get ready? 20 minutes. but i’ll wake up 2 hours earlier to get myself ready for getting ready.  most used phrase? i don’t think i have one. are you a good singer? i’m an okay singer. a former choir kid.  do you sing to yourself? all the time. biggest fear? the future. ive no clue what im doing. or what’s going to happen. it’s all scary scary scary. do you like long or short hair? both. tend to miss long hair when i have short hair, and vice versa.  are you into gossips? not really.  extrovert or introvert? i don’t think anyone strictly falls into only one of those.  favorite school subject? math. or art(history). what makes you nervous? a lot of things. who was your first real crush? this boy i went to kindergarten with. we couldn’t be seated together at mealtimes because we kept giggling. we went to different schools but still kept seeing each other around. now he lives in the same building as i do. we still can’t look at each other without laughing. not a crush anymore. just a warm memory. how many piercings do you have? only ever pierced my ears but i haven’t worn piercings in a long time (over 6 years now). 2 or maybe 3 of 7 should still ?work?. how fast can you run? not fast enough. what makes you angry? the lack of world peace.  do you like your own name? used to hate it. (there’s this song. and adults used to sing it to me even though i said i didn’t like it. made me want to change my name when i was like 4). have come around to it. what are your weaknesses? my bad habits. these holes ive dug myself are pretty cozy. familiar.  what are your strengths? i am never bored.  what is the color of your bedspread? at the moment white-with-light-brown-stripes-on-one-side-flowers-on-the-other-extremely-basic-bedding-from-you-guessed-it-IKEA! color of your room? yellow (the official name of the color is, directly translated, “crop field”). 

ps! thanks for tagging me, Soo. this was fun. stressful. but fun. 

[idunnowatimdoin]

There Are Only Three Steps I Care About and Love Isn't One of Them || Chapter 1 (Snippet)

So I started writing a medical school AU of our two favorite bois. Here’s a small preview of what I’ve got so far. Lmk what y’all think!!

“You’re joking.” The acerbic tone of his voice would make weaker men cower in fear – has done so on many occasions in fact! 

It doesn’t even phase Qui-Gon’s serene smile. “Of course not, my young padawan. Why would I joke about something as important as this?”

“I told you to stop calling me that. We’re not in a fucking movie, Qui. And this is serious!” Obi-Wan growls, slamming his hands down on the table where Qui-Gon sits calmly and flipping the folder he’s holding open and around so the other can see. “When I told you I wanted a non-traditional student as a Little, what in the ever loving fuck possessed you to think that this is what I meant?”

Qui-Gon glances down at the folder as though he doesn’t know exactly what’s inside it – as though he isn’t the (former) president of the Big-Little Club mentorship program and in charge of setting up all the first year medical students with their second year mentors. The bright beaming smile of one Anakin Skywalker shines up at him. The older man takes a few long moments of silence to skim over the file before looking up at the other, fuming, man with an arched brow. “I don’t see what the issue is.”

“The issue,” Obi-Wan snarls, “is that I was looking to get someone more like us non-traditional: older, coming into medicine as a second profession, struggling to get back into the swing of studying after years away from academia. Instead you gave me a twenty-two year old, fresh from college, pretty boy. He skipped grades because he was that smart, Qui. He didn’t even take a gap year! He’s as traditional as you get!”

If anything, Qui-Gon’s brow arches ever higher. Obi-Wan gives serious thought to shaving it off while the man sleeps. “Perhaps if you looked closer, you’d have seen why I picked this one for you. I assure you, my young apprentice, he is far from traditional.”

Groaning, Obi-Wan makes sure to drag his chair back with a loud screech against the tile of the floor just for the satisfaction of watching Qui-Gon’s involuntary wince. Good. He slips into the chair opposite from him and spins the folder back so he can look at it, eyes scanning over the document with new intent. If Qui-Gon says there’s something there, there has to be. The guy may be a right git, but he’s not an outright liar. Most of the time. 

Anakin Skywalker. Age: 22. Hometown: Tatooine, Arizona. Undergraduate Degree: Mechanical Engineering, B.S. from Cal Poly Pomona. Hobbies: Taking things apart and putting them back together again, fixing things, building things, cars, racing ♡♡♡, baking Interesting Fact About You: I built my first robot at the age of nine. He was really dumb, but Mom loved him. His name was C3PO and he shorted out any time you tried to get him to do anything, but Mom kept him around anyways. Why Did You Go Into Medicine: While I was away at college, our house got broken into. Some thugs beat up my mom and stole everything we owned. I barely made it to the hospital before she died. I remember standing against the wall while she coded, feeling absolutely helpless as the crash team tried to resuscitate her. I never want to feel that helpless again. What Do You Want Out of This Program?: To learn how the fuck to study medicine. I have an engineer brain so I feel like all this stuff is a foreign language to me? Like I’m running Python but everyone else is over here using C++. Poor analogy because that’s more c-sci than engineering, but whatever. Basically I need help. Please. The academic advisors didn’t do shit and the teachers and office hours aren’t useful at all. So… You’re my only hope. 

And on second reading it seems less infuriating and more… endearing? Maybe. It might just be because he’s gotten the chance to rage at Qui-Gon out of his system so he can look at the application with clarity and see just how non-traditional this Anakin Skywalker really is. 

For one thing, he’s young. Younger than most applicants. He had to have skipped at least two grades to be here at twenty-two. And he’s an engineering major. That’s about as non-traditional as Obi-Wan’s philosophy major, as Qui-Gon’s MBA. The rest of it builds on his overall image of “non-traditional student,” but it’s the last question that really gets Obi-Wan, that seals his fate. Qui-Gon fucking knew it would, too, the asshole. It’s probably why he picked Anakin to be Obi-Wan’s Little, because he knows Obi-Wan’s weaknesses too well after a year acting as his Big. That bit about learning how to study? And it feeling like everyone else was speaking a foreign language? Feeling completely lost and helpless because all the other resources that were supposed to help you just weren’t panning out and this mentorship program was your last hope? Obi-Wan had been there last year. So he knows what Anakin’s feeling, what he’s going through. And it’s why Qui-Gon knows he’s going to accept, going to take Anakin on. 

He sighs, pinching his nose in frustration before looking back down at the smiling face of one Anakin Skywalker. “Did you really have to pick someone so attractive?” he finally sighs, looking up at Qui-Gon in resignation. 

Qui-Gon – the bastard – just chuckles. “If you’re going to spend the next year mentoring him, he might as well be someone you enjoy looking at. It’s part of why I picked you.” Then he has the gall to wink. 

The poor crowd of first years eating their lunch in the common area really have no idea how to react when Obi-Wan upends the table and launches himself at the third year student, Qui-Gon laughing the whole time. 

-

In the end, it takes Obi-Wan two days to actually reach out to Anakin. Not because he’s scared or anything because he’s not. It’s because Dr. Che’s GI anatomy review lecture had reminded Obi-Wan just how much he didn’t remember from first year anatomy-physiology lab and he’d deep dived back into his old anatomy notes and panic-blacked out midway through flipping through his Thieme “Atlas of Anatomy” textbook, only surfacing back up when Bant literally tugged him by the ear away from the dorm study space back to his room. So two days later, his under eyes are a bit darker than normal (but that’s pretty much a given in med school and no one even spares him a second glance) when he shoots Anakin a text.

[Message: To: Anakin Skywalker] Hello, this is Obi-Wan Kenobi. We were paired as part of the Big-Little program. I am reaching out to ask when you would be available to meet so that we could discuss further what you would like to get from this program and how best I could assist you to succeed in medical school. Please let me know at your earliest convenience.

Message sent, Obi-Wan tucks his phone away and makes his way to his locker so that he can grab his other notebook for Professor Koon’s physiology lecture. The man tends to like more… hands on demonstrations and Obi-Wan has taken to storing all his belongings except the essentials in his locker for the duration of Professor Koon’s lectures just in case. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket, cutting off a second later to start buzzing anew. This continues again and again before he finally pulls it out and flicks it to life. 

[Message: From: Anakin Skywalker] Omg!!

[Message: From: Anakin Skywalker] I didn’t think you were ever going to text me

[Message: From: Anakin Skywalker] Hi!!

[Message: From: Anakin Skywalker] Wow your text sounds so formal like an email

[Message: From: Anakin Skywalker] Are you free for lunch today??

[Message: From: Anakin Skywalker] Sorry for the rush but like

[Message: From: Anakin Skywalker] We have a quiz Friday and

[Message: From: Anakin Skywalker] I have no idea how to study for it

[Message: From: Anakin Skywalker] So if you could help me that would be 

[Message: From: Anakin Skywalker] AMAZING

[Message: From: Anakin Skywalker] Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi

[Message: From: Anakin Skywalker] You’re my only hope!!

Obi-Wan stares for a moment at the veritable wall of texts that completely blocks out his original message. He feels a migraine coming on. This is looking like it’s going to be a very, very painful year indeed.

[blazestarninja13]

Dianakko Week [Day 2: Handholding/Cuddles]

@dianakko-week

It’s time for some adorable gayness under a tree time! This one is super cute and might even have a little mention of Hamanda! Hope you guys enjoy it!

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26081233/chapters/63487663

It was sunset and the summer heat was still radiating from the slowly disappearing sun. It was complemented by a slight breeze that made the temperature just a bit more bearable. Students of Luna Nova were making the most of this weather to spend it outside before Curfew hit.

 Sitting under an aging oak tree amongst the radiance of the sun was Diana, whose lap was being used as a pillow for her girlfriend, Akko. 

 As Akko’s head happily lay on her lap, Diana was carefully caressing her hair as if she were some kind of small animal. Similarly, Akko was combing her hands through Diana’s soft hair as the two of them were enjoying each other’s company.

 “So, what have you been up today, my dear Akko?” warmly inquired Diana.

 Akko grinned cheekily. She was looking forward to telling Diana what shenanigans she had gotten up to throughout the day.

 “Well I did do a few different things today” the smiling brunette begun. “So I was playing broom frisbee with Amanda this morning”

��Diana internally facepalmed. What did the rebellious Irish-American get up to now?

 “Now what did O’Neill do?” she sighed as she rolled her eyes just thinking about the cocky redhead.

 “Well…” Akko started. “We were just flying around, throwing and catching the frisbee and one time when she had the Frisbee, Amanda threw it low to challenge me, but it went too low and accidentally hit Hannah who was passing by”

 Diana then realized something. That must’ve been why she saw her auburn-haired roommate with a plaster on her head. When Diana asked her about it, she nervously claimed that she had tripped and hit her head which Diana knew wasn’t true because Hannah had always been a terrible liar.

 Diana then proceeded to smirk whilst she continued stroking Akko’s hair. She loved moments like these because she got to hear silly little stories about the things Akko did during her day whilst in the warmth and comfort of her lover.

 “So what happened next?” She lightly chuckled, eager to hear how the story ends.

 Akko gave a knowing grin as she continued her story.

 “Well, Amanda then realized she had hit Hannah accidentally and both of us went to go check on her. Amanda asked if she was ok and Hannah got all mad and blushy and told Amanda that she wasn’t okay and so then Amanda responded by offering to take her to the infirmary.”

 “So did Hannah end up accepting the offer?” Diana queried, pretty much knowing what was 

going to come next.

 “Hannah then grumbled and accepted. I think I even saw Amanda blushing a little as they walked off together.” Akko grinned, knowing exactly what was going on.

 Diana rolled her eyes and sighed once again. 

 “At this point, it’s blatantly obvious that they have a thing for each other.”

 “Totally,” Akko responded.

 After the two of them giggled about the fact that each other’s good friends were obviously crushing on each other though they were both too oblivious to realize it, Akko suddenly had a curious look on her face.

 “So what did you do today, Diana?” she asked as her head further snuggled into Diana’s lap. 

 “I really didn’t do too much today, to be honest. Most of my day consisted of going to classes which I saw you in some of them, studying for that upcoming magic linguistics quiz-”

 “Oh crap! I completely forgot about that! Oh boy, Professor Finnelan is going to kill me…” Akko suddenly blurted as she remembered that she needed to study.

 “Why am I not surprised at all whatsoever?” frowned Diana.

 “I’m sorry, okay!” whinged Akko, scrunching her face up. “I’ve been super busy lately because for some reason, all of our professors decided to just give us heaps of tests of over the next few weeks!” 

 Diana simply sighed. What was she ever going to do with her klutzy girlfriend…

 “Well, looks like we’ll have to have a study session over the weekend so you don’t end up failing”

 Suddenly, Akko’s face lit up as she lifted her head of Diana’s lap.

 “So what you’re saying is that we can have a study date!?” she excitedly questioned.

 “Yes Akko, but you have to promise that you’ll actually study.” reminded Diana as she moved herself a bit to the side to make room for Akko who was now sitting next to her,

 “I will…” Akko huffed. She really wished that she could go on a better date with Diana like going into town and having tea or something along the lines of that.

 Diana however, was pretty much able to see and guess what Akko was thinking by the annoyed expression on her face.

 “If you do well on these next few tests, I promise to take you out on a proper date” 

 After hearing her say that, Akko went in for a great big happy hug and held onto Diana tight.

 “I promise that I’m going to do my best and make you proud!” she exclaimed in her typical determined manner.

 Diana smiled and thought to herself. 

 What did I ever do to deserve having you as my girlfriend, Atsuko Kagari

[harringtown]

i know i wanna be her run-to

because everyone is very stressed right now, and the world is a mess, so have some well-timed fluff!

requested by anonymous

Summary: Steve takes care of the reader on a hard day (aka pure fluff)

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: depression mention & cursing 

-

Sometimes, the world is too heavy. It settles atop your chest, leaving you Atlas, forced to hold up a world you don’t always want to be in. The sadness stretches out its thin, spindly fingers and draws you into its embrace, the numbness wrapping a blanket around it, leaving the discomfort and unease racing through your blood and poking each nerve.

Rather than attempting to slug through the day - class and class and lunch and more class - you settle deeper into your bed, tugging the blankets tight around you, a cocoon of darkness. Even beneath the warm, dark blanket, that feeling worms its way in; that heavy, twisting, crawling ache. The one that drags a scream up to your throat and drops it on your tongue; the one that takes your breath and doesn’t let go.

The phone rings sometime after ten, three hours into your commiseration, and you roll over in bed, snaking a hand out of the covers to snatch it out of its cubby and pull it back into the dark up to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?” Steve asks. “You missed Dot’s quiz. I had no one to cheat off of.”

That almost - almost - makes you laugh, but the uncomfortable feeling in your gut twists tighter. Another mistake you’ve made, and you don’t care enough to get out of bed.

“Sorry,” you say, “not feeling great.”

Steve pauses on the other end. “Nightmares?” He asks after a long moment.

Yes, but more. More, so, so much more.

“No, just didn’t get much sleep last night. Plus, I think I have a fever.” Translation: you haven’t gotten any sleep in three days.

“Do you want me to stop by? I can pick up ice cream.”

“You never cease to find reasons for ice cream.”

“Ice cream doesn’t need a reason,” he says. “So? Coming over?”

You purse your lips, curling into a smaller ball beneath your blankets.

Steve has seen you battle monsters, seen you face off against Russians, seen you argue with bastardous twelve-year-olds back at Scoops Ahoy. But he hasn’t seen you like this; broken, bent, hollow. You’re not the brave person he fell for; you’re a shell, a husk.

“Don’t worry about it,” you say.

You could practically hear his frown. “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” you say. “But thank you.”

“Get some rest, okay?”

You close your eyes, tears welling behind them, pricking and poking, desperate to break through.

“Okay,” you say, and pray he doesn’t notice the way your voice cracks.

-

Your bedroom door opens an hour later; your parents are still at work, which means it is not them. Pushing the covers off your face, you lift your head to find Steve Harrington standing in the doorway, holding a grocery bag. He sets it on your desk and lifts his gaze to yours, lips turning down in a frown.

“Liar,” he says, cocking a brow. He doesn’t need to explain; you’ve been caught red-handed, not sick.

“I’m fine, Steve. You didn’t need to come over.”

He snorts, and opens the bag, pulling out vitamins and fever medicines and stacking them on the desk. He tugs out a tub of ice cream - of course - and two bottles of your favorite drink, followed by plastic spoons.

“You forget,” he says, “I know you. And if you say you haven’t slept in a day, that really means you haven’t slept-” he pauses, noticing the tears beginning to spill down your cheeks. Shame colors your cheeks, but you can’t stop the tears, can’t stop the sobs bubbling up in your chest, can’t stop the feeling clawing through you. “Hey. Hey.” He crosses to the bed, dropping down onto the edge and reaching for you. You let him pull you into his arms, half in his lap, feeling like a scared child clinging to safety, but unable to do anything but let him hold you.

“I got you,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to your head, voice muffled by your hair. “I got you.”

You suck in a shaking breath, pulling away to look at him through tear-blurred eyes. He reaches up to brush the damp and sweaty hairs off your forehead, your face hot and red and tear-streaked.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I’m sorry I’m such a….” A shuddering breath rolls through you, and you duck your chin, eyes clamping shut. Steve nudges your head back up with a finger, one arm wrapped around your waist, free hand settling against your cheek. His brows furrow and he shakes his head.

“Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry about.” He caresses your cheek with a thumb, the monotony of the motion poking through the numbness. “Wanna talk about it?” He inclines his head, concern weaving itself into his features, all undivided attention and care; all things you’re not sure you deserve.

You press your lips together, leaning into his chest, and his hand shifts from your cheek to your hair, stroking down the sleep-mussed strands.

“It’s so much,” you say softly. “I don’t even know how to explain, but it just…it feels like…like the whole fucking world is falling apart around me. Like I’m….in limbo, floating around, no clue what to do. It’s like every fucking thing is broken, including me, and I have no idea how to fix it. I don’t know how to stop fucking everything up.”

Sadness yawns open in Steve’s eyes, and he shakes his head again, dipping his forehead against yours.

“You,” he says, “are not fucking everything up.  And you’re not broken.”

“How do you know?” You ask, voice low and splintered. Steve pulls back to look at you, the sincerity in his eyes almost overwhelming.

“Because you’ve never been anything but whole,” he says. A tiny cry slips past your lips, and Steve tightens his grip around you. “The world might be fucked up, but it’s not your fault. Honestly, it’s a whole lot better with you in it. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. And not just because you’re a bad ass who took down a Demogogron, but because you did all of it, and kept your shit together, too.”

You let out a mirthless laugh. “Is this keeping my shit together?”

“You’re still standing,” he says. “And you’re trying.”

“And failing.”

Steve pulls back, lips turned down in a frown, his frustration evident; frustration not with you, but with the thing in your head that keeps you shackled.

“You’re not failing. You’re trying. And trying is all we can do.”

“And if it's not enough?”

“It is,” he says. He ducks his chin again, sweeping his lips up to your nose, dropping a kiss to the tip and moving up to press another to your forehead. “And if it’s not, there’ll probably be more monsters to distract ourselves with.”

“One can only hope.”

He laughs, and the sound cracks the gates on the numb, sadness - but also affection and a tinge of hope - pushing through. A tear slips down your cheek, and Steve kisses it away.

“I’m sorry,” you say again.

“You’ve dealt with enough of my shit,” he says, one side of his mouth quirking up. “I think we’re far overdue for some Steve time.”

“Steve time?” You cock a brow, and he grins.

“The Steve Harrington Support Squad,” he says. “Here for all your love and snuggle needs.”

“Snuggle needs?” Another laugh slips past your lips, and Steve’s expression brightens.

“Did you know you have the most beautiful laugh?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“It will get me everywhere,” he says. You smile, and duck your chin against his chest.

“Maybe,” you mumble. His chest rumbles as he laughs, arms winding around you. You crane your head to look at him, a grateful smile tugging up your lips. That permeating numbness shifts, softens, gives way to the emotions that are piled up behind depression’s wall. With the fall, both the good and the bad spill out, but right now, if only right now, there’s more happy than sad, more warmth than ice.

“Thank you,” you say softly. Steve smiles, a tiny, gentle, stomach-twisting smile, and kisses your temple.

“I’ve got you,” he says. “Always.”

And you believe him. The cold, sad, aching is still there, and there is no promise that it will ever leave on a one way trip. But at least, at the very least, the weight on your shoulders isn’t as heavy, not with Steve shouldering half. With Steve beside you, it doesn’t feel like shouldering much at all.

-

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