#nothing works on me for headaches except just going to bed but I don’t wanna waste my day off 😔

[aberooski]

Whelp, I've got a headache which means my day is basically shot to hell, I'll be a useless bump on a log the rest of the day. But I'm gonna try and work on some fics anyway and see what happens.

[charleslee-valentine]

For the Texas Chainsaw Massacre Fanworks Event Day 6: Music is my Life

Ship(s): Radiohead/Vietnita/Brocktop (Chop Top x Stretch)

Word Count: ~1,800

Warnings: Alcohol use, hangovers, abuse mention, mild sexual content.

@texas-chainsaw-fanworks

________

It wasn’t intentional.

Bobby was supposed to be out and back before anybody even noticed he was gone. To just grab a couple drinks and then get the hell out. Easy.

Now, nobody else knew that plan, so did it matter that much when two beers turned to three, then three to four? Probably not. He wasn’t far from home and hadn’t driven anyways. He could be there in time still.

Except he didn’t walk his goofy ass home. He woke up in a pretty girls bed.

She greeted him with a soft, close-lipped smile, “Morning. Didn’t think you’d be up before the afternoon.”

A groan slips past his lips. His head is fucked. Bobby tries to sit up and then lays right back down, rubbing at blurry eyes, “Time?”

“‘Leven thirty. You got somewhere to be, I’ll drive you.” She informs him, sitting on the side of the bed. Her bed.

Bobby should tell her he’s got to get home. But he’s barely awake, and barely able to remember what happened last night either. Speech isn’t coming to him.

He just shakes his head ‘no’.

“Your head still hurtin’ you?” The woman observes, when he nods again producing a little pain-pill bottle from somewhere, maybe the night stand, and giving it to him, “Here. Don’t leave it on an empty stomach. I can make you breakfast too.”

Really, he appreciates the offer. There’s no way in hell he’d lie and say he doesn’t like the attention from this gorgeous lady. But, one thought creeps up in his head and he has to ask, wondering if maybe she’s one of those women that take advantage that his big brother warned him about. After all, she doesn’t seem to be affected by last night in the least.

Maybe she was sober while he wasn’t.

“A-Aren’t you hungover t-too?”

“Sugar, I do that every night. If I still got as fucked up as you, I’d’ve been kicked out by now. My drunk lasts a lot less than yours.” She informs him, kind but a little humored.

That’s when Bobby remembers some. Pretty girl is the disc jockey from the bar. Stretch is her work name. Vanita is her real one. Even that part of her is beautiful.

Okay, so he might be a little pussy whooped, but he can’t help it. She played good music. Actual rock and not the radio approved shit. Alcohol in his system meant he was probably rambling about all the artists and such for hours last night, and she’d done nothing but listen contentedly. And then kiss him.

It was really pretty fun, dancing all night, sharing drinks and cool facts and kisses. Nothing like the other quick hookups he’d had in bathroom stalls and seedy motels. The kinds where they wouldn’t look him in the face or kiss him after they got their rocks off.

Those times had been better than being lonely, but not being hat he wanted. Nothing like miss Vanita.

Even now, she could kick him out. Instead of sitting here close and brushing stray hairs off his face, she could be dragging him out the door.

Not that he even should be still here. He’s a long several hours overdue to be back home. They’ll have noticed by now he ain’t there.

He looks her in her eyes, half squinting from the stubborn headache, “I-I kinda lied. M-My brothers’ll be look-lookin’ for me.”

Stretch seems understanding, putting her sweet hand in his hair like she’d done the night before and makin’ him blush like some kinda idiot, “I can take you home, hon. Promise it won’t bother me none to do it.”

“I-I don’ wanna.” Bobby doesn’t know why he’s honest. Like he’s her puppy or something.

“Mm. I hear ya.” Stretch can sense the sadness in him, the part of the truth that isn’t being told. She just misunderstands it’s meaning a little, “Bobby, are you sure you got somewhere to go? You can tell me the truth.”

“Huh? O-Oh yeah. M-My brother o-o-own’s a real big farm house. We all l-live there. All-“ He counts his siblings on his fingers, including his Sissy even though she doesn’t come home often, “Five of us.”

That doesn’t fully answer her question though. Stretch asks him slowly, “And you’re safe there?”

“S-Sure. Drayton says..says I-I’m in my r-rebellion phase.”

All he means by that is that he’s on a slightly longer leash than he used to be, not getting beat up the same as he used to either. Safe enough. He might get smacked around a little for coming home so late, but it’s nothing miss Stretch outta worry her little self about.

She sure looks like she’s worrying though, with her eyebrows all shot up high on her forehead, “Mister, you told me you were 30 something.”

“Yeh. I-I am.” Bobby tells her bluntly, even though his stutter makes him sound less sure.

“Alright then.” She relaxes quick, looking at him in this infatuated way, the kinda look nobody ever gave him before. A light laugh bounces her strong-frame shoulders, “You are a mystery, Robert Sawyer.”

It sounds nice, but he wants to be sure she isn’t trying to pull one over on him. “I-In a good way?”

“The best.” She promises.

“Cool. Gr-Groovy.” Without the whiskey and beer, he ain’t exactly some Romeo. He feels awkward and dumb, so he tries to make up for it, “Hey, c-can I kiss you?”

Stretch hums with tiniest play of a smirk on her face, “Honey, you done a lot more than that.”

Oh she knows just how to make him blush. It’s nice having someone who challenges him back.

He smiles really genuinely, even though he’s been told his overbite is gross looking, he hopes she won’t mind, “I-It’s polite to ask.”

She must like his smile.

“Then yes, baby. Anytime you like.”

Stretch even initiates the kiss, already holding him in her arms, only taking a little effort to lean in and connect their lips. Everything about her is gentle, but not her kisses. Those are hungry. Fierce.

Dominant.

Bobby makes some kind of a noise like a whimper and a mewl combined. It makes Stretch laugh softly.

Flushed as pink as a peach, he pulls away a little, for the sake of catching his breath as much as to get his bearings back, “Wh-What’s funny?”

Her soft hands never leave his face, “You just weren’t this shy last night, baby. Don’t worry though; I like my boys a little soft.”

Soft isn’t really a word he’s been called before. Or even been allowed to be. In his head, soft translates into pansy ass. To sorry excuse for a brother.

He knows his face must light up like a puppy dog when she says that. Every instinct in his body screams to kiss on her, so he does. Not that he’s usually one to deny things like that, but it seems especially right, being here with this special girl.

He lungs and kisses all over her face. Any inch of skin he can reach gets a smooch.

She’s howling with laughter by the time she gently pushes him off, “Calm down now, mister!”

But he doesn’t want to go far away from uer. The contact and the pressure and the warmth are too nice. He leans on her while his hands get tappy and a couple little noises squeak past his attempts to stop them. That happens when he gets happy. Stretch might have to get used to that.

She doesn’t seem off put at a glance. If anything, the look in her eyes is kinda fond. Loving.

Her fingers card through his long hair again, careful not to catch on any tangles, “You and me gonna party ‘gain soon, sweet thing?”

Bobby shrugs, “M-Maybe once I’m ungrounded. I-I’m gonna be in biiiiig trouble.”

“Even if I come back with ya and explain?” Stretch offers.

That makes him feel silly. People don’t really think it’s normal, him being old as he is and still being pushed around by his big brother. Living with him ‘stead of on his own.

They think that it makes him either some drooling idiot, or a spineless pushover. Like he’s just supposed to walk away from the man that raised him, and his other two brothers that need the extra help. The man feeds him for thirty years, takes care of his brothers and helps with his medicine, and that’s supposed to mean nothing?

Thankfully, Stretch ain’t most people though.

Bobby looks at her all wide eyed, “Y-You’d do that f-for me?”

She sounds real genuine as she explains her reasoning, knowing he needs to heard it to believe it, “Sure, hon. I get it, you been gone all night, but it’s better’n both of our drunk asses winding up in a ditch somewhere. They’ll understand that.”

He nods, and wraps his arms right around her, determined to look in her eyes while he declares, “I-I won’t let ‘em be mean t-to ya. Y-You’re my girl, miss Stretch.”

It was mostly a success. His eyes do that blinky twitchy thing they do, which has always annoyed him, but it doesn’t seem to bother her.

For once, she’s the one between them that blushes “Am I now?”

“Y-Yeah. My..My fave.” He promises, hoping she understands what a high compliment that truly is.

But then she says something that surprises him. “Ain’t always you get to meet the folks this early. That’s gotta be a new record.. Hope I’m not comin’ off too desperate on you.”

As if. Not when Bobby’s around, he thinks. His middle name might as well be desperate (He actually doesn’t officially have one on paper.) It’s awful weird having someone who doesn’t just automatically point out that he’s annoying or blame him for everything. Stretch really thinks she could be too much?

“N-No way. Y-You and me, we c-could be s-soulmates o-or somethin’.” To prove it to her, he belts a line from a Van Morrison song about love, “I'm run into to her like a river strong-“

Music gets to a girl like her. One who knows allll about it from her nights dj-ing at the club. She interrupts him with a kiss.

Strong as all the other ones with even more tongue. There’s intention behind it, a silent but perfectly clear question. An offer to do a repeat of last night, but sober. Bobby gives her some little sounds as confirmation. Moaning little whines.

All the confirmation she needs.

Stretch throws her leg around his waist, using the added leverage to pin Bobby to the mattress and straddle his waist.

Somehow they stayed connected through all that, but she breaks the kiss to ask him, panting, “How much longer b‘fore you hafta go?”

“A-A little while more w-wouldn’t hurt nobody…” He confirms.

It’s true enough. Might get him hurt, but he’s more’n used to that.

Something tells him he ain’t never gonna get used to the feeling of a pretty girl on top of him this way. So he’s sure as hell gonna revel in it.

[summerofsnowflakes]

He’s on his way…..

Pairing: Boyfriend's Dad!Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1200

Warnings: sexual themes and language, cheating, possessive Andy

A/N: @late-to-the-party-81 sent me this last week and I have literally not been able to stop looking at it since, also this was not meant to be this long! I also decided it would be a really good prequel to an Andy fic that I'm currently working on.

Masterlist

You were studying in your dorm with Jacob when your phone chimed. Your eyes flickered from your laptop to your phone seeing Andy’s name pop up with a new notification. 

On my way - A x 

It wasn't unusual for Andy to show up at the college to see you at such short notice. He’s never able to stay away for too long. 

But panic seeped in as you peered up from your phone over to your boyfriend. You had exactly forty five minutes from now to get rid of Jacob. 

You glanced around the room, noticing your eye mask sitting on your bedside table and began formulating your plan. 

“Jake, I think I’m done for the night. I can’t focus anymore.” The lie rolled off your tongue far too easily. 

“That’s cool, you wanna watch a movie instead?” 

“No!” You shouted, the panic took hold of your brain. He had to leave, otherwise the three of you would be having a very interesting and awkward conversation. “Sorry, I just mean I can feel a headache coming on. I just need to go to sleep, alone…” 

“Oh, alright.” The dejected tone in his voice struck a nerve inside you, you almost felt guilty.

“Why don’t you text the guys and go out?” 

“You sure?” The sadness was immediately replaced with a glimmer of hope. He tried to hide it with indifference, but you noticed and you knew you’d found the perfect way to get rid of him.  

“Yeah I’ve ruined our night,” You yawned, slowly stretching your arms above your head. You watched him hang off your every word, waiting for your permission.  “No sense in you going home and sitting alone.” You smiled.

He nodded and stood up to call one of his ‘friends’, barely able to contain his glee. 

This was the silent agreement the two of you shared. He got popularity by going out with you and unbeknownst to him, you got his dad. 

You waited seven whole minutes to get off the phone, and with each minute you felt yourself slipping closer to insanity. Your nerves shot to pieces, anxiously checking your phone every ten seconds for Andy was nearby. 

Relief flooded your body when Jacob finally returned with the news he was going to meet them now. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” He asked, a twinge of hope laced into his voice. 

“Yeah of course.” You pressed your lips to his softly and closed the door on him. 

Now the real fun could begin. 

You slipped into a black lacy set and pulled on a silky black robe; you’d picked it all up last week, in anticipation of Andy’s next visit.  

His special knock on your door came sooner than you’d expected, he must’ve driven dangerously fast to get here. 

Excitement bloomed in the pit of your stomach as you opened the door and met his blue eyes. 

Andy’s eyes raked down your body hungrily, his lip poking out between his lips. 

“Hi” you grinned, pulling the tie on your robe whilst he still lingered in the hallway and allowed it to pool at your feet. You stood there in nothing except your underwear, your frame was covered by his thick body for anyone that may be passing by at this time of night. 

Andy growled, launching at you like a predator pouncing on its prey. His hands cupped your cheeks, his lips captured yours roughly, his mouth moulding against yours. 

He kicked the door shut, pushing you further back into the room. The wood closed with a loud thump, the walls trembled with the same ferocity as your aching thighs. 

He was all over you, consuming every dying thought inside your mind. He picked you up, wrapping your legs around his torso and carried you over to the bed. 

He placed you down carefully, climbing over you as he reconnected your lips. His hot mouth trailed down your neck, teeth grazing your skin light enough to leave no evidence that he’d ever been here. 

He hummed against you, “missed you sweetheart. Had a terrible day at work and need my favourite girl to cheer me up.” He muttered against you, his large hands roamed your body, fingers digging into your waist. 

“Just tell me what I can do.” You whimpered pushing your hips upwards into his, your fingers running through his brown locks. 

“Lay here and look beautiful while I taste that pretty little pussy.” He moved down your body, placing kisses down your body as he went. 

Just as his lips grazed over the lace covering your mound, there was a knock at the door. You head whipped in the direction of the door, but Andy wasn’t concerned in the slightest. He moved your panties to the side, dipping his tongue between your wet folds and a soft moan fell from your lips. 

Another knock came, this time accompanied by a voice that neither of you were expecting to hear. “Babe, I forgot my keys, can you open up so I can get them.” 

Andy looked up at you to see utter panic consuming your face, he kissed your thigh reassuringly and crawled off you, looking around the room for a place to hide. 

Despite the fear setting in your body, you managed to scramble a few thoughts together. You mouthed the word shower to him as you hurriedly threw on your sweatshirt from earlier, placing the eye mask on your forehead. 

“Babe?” Jacob called again from the other side of the door. 

“Sorry, I’m just changing.” 

“So, it’s nothing I’ve not seen before.” 

You cringed at Jacob’s words, your shoulders tensing as Andy let out a harsh scoff. You could feel his fists curl from the other room, the tension climbing higher as you opened the door. 

You looked up at him with half closed lids, desperately trying to appear as if the headache had already hit. “Where do you think you left them?”

“On the sofa I think?” 

He wandered over to the sofa, scanning the room as he moved. You held your breath, praying he could see Andy's shadow behind the curtain. 

His hands dug down the sides of your couch cushion as you held your breath nervously.

The jingle of his keys as he pulled them out of the sofa allowed the oxygen to return to your lungs. Relief washed over you, knowing he’d be gone soon. 

“Uh, feel better soon.” He mumbled as he wandered back over to the door. You placed a chaste kiss to his cheek and shut the door on him.

You rested against the door, heavy breaths wracked your body. You were an awful person, you knew it was the truth, but there wasn’t time to think on that too hard right now. 

Andy reappeared from the bathroom and walked over to you, crowding your space and taking up all the space in your brain. The guilt washed away as he  pressed you back against the door and pushed his hard length against your stomach. 

“where were we?” His hands dipped under the hem of your sweater, fingers teasing your skin. 

You smiled up at him, all thoughts of his son dispersed from your mind as his aftershave filled your senses. “I believe you were just about to have your dinner.” 

“Ah yes,” he groaned, dropping to his knees. His lips ghosted against your thighs “thanks for jogging my memory.” 

[hurtthemgently]

What if, now hear me out, the people around Cato were used to torment him? It wouldn't even need to be physical!

In my opinion, one of the most horrifying tropes is random people in your everyday life suddenly looking at you blankly and saying "Wake up. This isn't real, you're dreaming," and then going back to whatever they were doing/saying like it never happened.

Except it would be so much worse for Cato, because it isn't a dream. He just flat out doesn't exist!

Nothing would break my mind faster than my coworkers and friends randomly telling me throughout the day that I'm not real.

I'm sorry this is so long x

.

Oh I love this so much!

Masterlist

Cw: major existential crisis, meta aware whumpee, emotional whump, begging

Also tagging unreality

The presence came as he was wrapping a chunk of meat in paper. He gave soft sigh, and handed the customer her order. She swiped her card through the scanner and smiled at him.

“You’re not real.” She spoke in a cheery tone, and he could sworn he saw a small flash of gold in her eyes.

“What?” He asked softly, startled.

“I said thank you.” She smiled again, if a bit awkwardly now, and went on her way.

Cato looked around, even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to see where the audience was. Annoyed, he scraped off the cutting board and tidied up the counter.

“Is this your idea of a joke?” He whispered, leaning down behind the counter, out of earshot from everyone else. He rolled his eyes when no response came.

The presence drifted into the background, so he went back to work. Another order, and he packaged some more fish. When he rang them up, he startled at the price.

‘You’re not real’

He shook it off, handing the package to the customer. “Have a great day.” Luckily they used a card, so he didn’t have to actually know the price.

“What, is this gonna be all day?” He muttered.

Of course there wasn’t any response.

Cato took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders. He could just ignore it. At least it wasn’t painful this time. At least writer wasn’t here, mocking him or invisibly forcing his head around.

He continued through his work day, doing his best to ignore the message. It popped up in the most random places, a notification on his phone, as one of the ingredients on a label, and was said by various people.

During his break, he sat in the storage room and kept his eyes closed. He had told his coworker he had a headache.

“You’re not real” he said, slightly concerned.

“Mhmm.” Cato put his head in his hands, tears prickling at his eyes.

By the end of the day he was exhausted.

——

When he got on the bus, it got worse. Every passenger he passed told him he wasn’t real. He did his best to avoid reading anything, all the words replaced by the same message.

He put headphones on, but anything he tried to play would start with the same words. After searching through his music library, he recognized the album cover for some instrumental stuff. This worked just fine, so he left it on.

As soon as he got of the bus he started jogging through the park, and got into his apartment as soon as possible. Immediately, he went and hid under the blankets on his bed.

“I know you’re still there.” He whispered, voice breaking. “Please stop. I don’t know what you want to accomplish, and I don’t care. Just- please stop”

“Hey wanna hear something interesting?” Writer manifested seated in front of him, their particulate more solid than usual, and the blankets shifted to accommodate them.

“please..” He was sobbing quietly, refusing to look at them.

They leaned closer, their head raising the blanket off his own. “You’re not real.”

“I know that! You’ve told me this over and over! I don’t care!” He shouted, glaring at them through tears.

“It seems a bit like you do care.” They smirked, leaning so that their noses were almost touching.

“I care when you start.. making it impossible for me to live my life.” He turned away. The blankets fell back down when they dissipated.

“Your life isn’t real either.” He felt a single pat on the head through the blanket.

“I don’t care. It’s still my life, so I’m going to keep going to work and classes, and making friends and going to movies and ordering takeout. Because it doesn’t matter if it’s not real.”

“You don’t like when I say it’s not real.”

“You’re implying that it’s not important. You’re telling me my life is meaningless. That’s what bothers me!” He pulled the blankets off, glaring at where they sat at the foot of the bed. The sudden realization that reality didn’t mean importance.. it was an explanation he could accept.

They couldn’t hide their look of surprise. Taking a second to try and think, they started to speak, but decided against it, dissipating entirely.

——

Taglist: @whumpsday @firefly017

Ask to be tagged if you want!

[imabillyami]

Had a headache for 2 days straight. Got my period last night for the second time this month, am bleeding out currently in a way humans are not supposed to and am absolutely dying of abdominal and back pains, painkillers don’t help, I can’t take anything super strong cause of my addiction issues and my muscle pains and fatigue are flaring up as well. Fucking endometriosis is gonna kill me at some point, cause all the shitty doctors are refusing to do shit about it. I literally can’t stand up straight or work or do anything except stay in bed and writhe in pain all day and they go like “Well, you might wanna have children someday, so there’s nothing we can do. Oh you’re an addict? Well, no strong painkillers for you then. Hm yeah, sucks for you.”

Woke up to my neighbor hammering for 2 hours at 4am this morning, been in pain all day, tried to sleep the day away, only to get a phone call from my mom telling me she got hurt on the job and had to go to the hospital and everything. She’s okay, but she’s living very far away and I don’t have any family around where I live or any friends around here to comfort me. The two friends I did make in my 3 years of living here are busy - one with her thesis and one with her boyfriend, so I don’t wanna bother them with my mess. They don’t owe me anything and I’m usually fine on my own.

Also got another 5 rejection letters and I’m getting rather frustrated. I know that people don’t wanna employ a 28 y.o. traumatized disabled mentally ill university dropout with addiction issues, but I’ve been clean and sober for over a year, I’ve really worked on getting my life together and I’d just really appreciate if someone were to give me a chance. I’m a good worker. I got good skills in many fields. But people see the university dropout thing paired with the disability thing and automatically jump to conclusions and it’s so tiring, really. Listen to my story, before you outright reject me. You’re missing out.

Okay I’m done ranting now. I’m just tired of people only judging me by a piece of paper, really when there’s a lot more to me. So yeah, today has been utter shit, tomorrow will be better. We manifesting that shit.

[wishingyouback]

In The AM.

[01:45am] late nights with minho;

It’s a quarter to two in the morning when you stumble upon minho in your apartment kitchen with his hands on his face.

Though his back is facing you, you can almost picture the look on his face. His eyes closed, hands resting on his face to either try to subside the growing headache he had or, he was just exhausted with amount of workload he had piling up. You frown to yourself and lean against the doorframe of your kitchen, being quiet and careful to not stir him from his thoughts, to take a proper look at him.

His body is slumped in comparison to his usual lean position. His hair is ruffled, looking as if he had run his hands through it a million times to rid of the worries in his head. You’re about to walk over to him when Minho turns his head to look at you. Your eyes immediately catch his and he can’t stop the smile he has growing on his face. You bite your lip to contain your excitement and make your way into his arms that opens warmly for you.

When you wrap your arms around his neck, he finds solidarity in your embrace and hums. You feel his body relax in your warmth and you almost want to cry at how tired he must be.

“How’d you know I was there?”

“I heard you open your door,” he looks at you then kisses your forehead lightly which makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. “I’m sorry I came so late. Practice took longer than usual.”

Minho rarely talked about work — not because he didn’t want to or didn’t trust you. He trusted you with his entire life and if anything, he adored you to bits. It was just that, whenever he would be around you, you helped ease his worries. You took the pain away before he could even acknowledge it; you were his escape from reality because when he was with you, it actually felt like nothing else in the world mattered except for the moments together like right here, right now.

He was extremely thankful for you, and he always made sure to let you know that. If he couldn’t say it, he’d show it.

For your first day as a couple, the hazel haired boy surprised you with flowers at midnight because he was busy with practice the entire day. When you reached a month, he bought you the bracelet you had been eyeing the time the both of you went shopping for his lovely cats. Needless to say, Minho was an attentive lover. He knew you inside out — everything you did together felt so intimate and you felt incredibly lucky; even privileged at times to be privy to these type of affections from the man who was once shy in front of you.

You pull away from him to stretch your arms, closely resembling a feline creature he was fond of, which makes him smile.

He keeps you close to him with his arms wrapped gently around your waist as you stand between his legs that he parted to make room for you. “Did I wake you?”

You hadn’t seen each other for two weeks. Though that was considered the shortest time you both have been separated, you missed him a lot more than usual and you were glad you made a spare key just for him to make his entrance any time he wanted. You shook your head.

“I woke up to get a glass of water,” you then rested your head on his shoulders, relaxing in his arms when he started to draw small patterns on your waist. “Did you just get here?”

He checks his phone and nods. “Just a few minutes, actually. We had a last minute meeting too.” He says this with a sigh.

He covers it up with a shrug but you know Minho and you know the difference between his usual nonchalant attitude to this one.

After a moment of silence with him swaying you from side to side and you laughing at the little jokes he would whisper in your ears, you stand up properly and sternly place your hands on his shoulder, making him tilt his head up to look at you. He sees the blank look on your face and sits up to mirror you.

You don’t have to say anything for him to know what you’re asking.

Even if it was just a look or a stare, Minho could read your body language and he recognised it even if you thought you were being subtle. He was alert; protective even, especially when it came to you.

“We learnt this choreography today,” you listen intently and play with the roots of his hair, something you noticed Minho liked even when he would jokingly push your hands away. “It wasn’t difficult, but it wasn’t simple either. I know we’ve done harder but— I just can’t get this one move right and it’s frustrating.”

Your heart suddenly grows heavy and you feel the sudden urge to want to reassure Minho that he’s doing amazing, so you do.

You take a step closer to him, place your hands on his cheeks, making his lips pout a little but make him look into your eyes.

“That’s not your fault, baby.” Minho’s about to deny it but he knows you have more to say, and doesn’t interrupt you. “I know I won’t understand how you completely feel, but I want you to know that I’m so proud of you and that I know you’re already doing your best. You always do, and the boys know that too.”

You stare up into Minho’s eyes and he decides that there was not a single word in the dictionary, he was sure, that could describe just how beautiful you looked tonight.

You weren’t glammed up, nor were you in the least bit trying considering you were asleep, but he decides that this is his favourite look on you. You’re wearing one of his shirts, given it was a lot bigger on you than on him, it fit you perfectly. Your hair was tussled, evident from the tossing and turning you did in your sleep, and your cheeks are more pink then they usually were, but you looked so beautiful that Minho couldn’t resist the kiss he gives you when you’re about to say something in reply.

You smile into the kiss and he suddenly feels so energised that he swallows your giggles and hums a satisfied tune against your lips. When he pulls away, he pecks your cheeks then your nose.

You can’t stop grinning after this, feeling your face heat up. “What was that for? Not that I’m complaining.” Again, you look up at Minho with the softest look he has ever seen and he nearly melts at the sight.

“Just thankful.” Is what he says which makes you raise your eyebrows as if to ask ‘for what?’ and he knows it isn’t to tease him. You genuinely don’t know what for, and he’s more than happy to tell you. “For you, angel.”

You bury your head into his chest at the new pet name and he already knows you’re blushing. He bites back his inner cheek to stop himself from laughing, but it’s not use because a giggle slips out and you’re pulling away to look at him again.

“Stop.” You whine and he laughs harder.

After a moment, you feel Minho draw figure eights on your back with his fingers and you feel yourself moving into him more to hug him again. He always had that affect on you.

“You wanna know something?” His voice is so low that if you weren’t in his embrace, you wouldn’t have heard it. He looks down to check if you’re listening and you are, you’re already looking at him.

“I’m so in love with you.”

You break into a wide smile and let out a shy laugh. The both of you have been together for a year now, yet you still get giddy at the compliments he gives you; the things he says to you, especially when he tells you that he loves you. It wasn’t new to hear, yet every time he said it to you, you couldn’t help but feel like it was the first time.

Minho found it endearing. He loved seeing you happy and most importantly, he loved loving you. You were his person, his lover and partner in everything.

“I’m so in love with you too.” You say when you wrap your arms around his neck so he can hug you properly. He presses a kiss to your temple.

“You wanna head to bed now?” You nod.

“Let me get a drink then I’ll join you.”

He hums an answer and lets you go get a cup but before you can take another step, he grabs your wrist and when you turn, you feel his lips land on yours. You’re about to react when he pulls away as quickly as he started it, a teasing glimmer in his eyes.

“I’ll see you in bed, baby.” You roll your eyes playfully at the older boy let him go. He reluctantly lets go of your hand that he squeezes before leaving and you grab your drinks feeling nothing but pure happiness completely consume your body.

<3

a/n if you made it ‘till the end, thank you so much for reading ily, i do. & if there are any errors, let me know and i’ll fix them ♡ happy reading(s)!

— you’re always loved. x

[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.

[ignitedbynatsu]

He Makes You Feel Insecure ~ Erik/Cobra

A/N: whoop whoop I finished it earlier than I thought 🥳 Here is the Corbra/Erik one as requested. Bikslow will be up next!! I also wanna take a moment to thank you all for the support on these series. I honestly thought nobody would answer or request anyone so thank you! As always let me know who you want me write for next! 💕

Warnings: insecurities (he makes you feel like you talk too much), cursing

genre: angst to fluff

Other versions:

Gray ~ Laxus ~ Bickslow ~ Gajeel  ~ Natsu  ~ Jellal ~ Freed ~ Sting ~ Rogue

🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍

“I can’t believe Jellal told Erza he was engaged, like, is he serious right now? After everything, I’ve done to help him admit his feelings” You scoffed as you braided your hair in the bathroom while your boyfriend Eric was laying in bed, trying to read a book. “What happened to the once feared Jellal? Who would’ve thought he’d be such a wuss about it. All he had to do was close that one-centimetre gap, that’s all he had to do”

Unknowingly to you, Erik grew more and more irritated as you kept complaining about Jellal and Erza. He has had a long day and the way you were talking non-stop didn’t really help his growing headache.

“It’s actually rather sad because he thinks he doesn’t deserve her, but at the same time she doesn’t want anybody else than him-“ You got cut off by Erica who decided he had enough of your rambling “Can you shut for two seconds? You really do not have a clue how annoying it is to hear people’s inner thoughts all the time and then coming back to you who keeps complaining about anything everything, do you? I just need some peace and quiet, not you who's talking non-stop about stupid, useless things. If you can’t shut up, I’m leaving because I really don’t need this right now”

You were a bit taken back by his sudden outburst, but completely understood where he was coming from. It must be really overwhelming to always hear everyone around you. You couldn’t imagine how it must feel and felt like you were being extremely inconsiderate. You always ran your mouth ever since you were little, and you know it’d come to bite you in the ass at one point. You just never expected Erik to be the one to put you in your place. You had always found it so easy to talk to him, but apparently, it was more of a bother to him. You didn’t want that to cause any problems between the two of you, so you made a promise to yourself that you should start talking less, especially if Erik is around.

As for now you mumbled a soft apology before casting your shield magic on yourself. You had the ability to form any size of shields. Within that barrier no magic except for your own works. Not even Erik’s advanced hearing ability could pierce through the invisible wall.

You finished your braid before going to bed with your back facing him and thoughts swirling freely through your mind, not having to worry about bothering your boyfriend.

The next morning you woke up before your boyfriend as usual and quickly cast your shield around you again, wanting to give Erik the peace and quietness he deserves.

Jellal got intell of a new dark guild he wanted to deal with, so he had asked to meet up in the morning in your usual meeting spot. You woke your boyfriend carefully up before continuing your morning routine.

As Erik woke up, he notices how uncomfortable silence the house was. He didn’t hear your usual humming while you got ready nor did he hear your inner thoughts. He shook it off and blamed it on still being groggy from just waking up.

The two of you were soon ready and met up with the whole group to go to your next location.

You usually chatted carelessly away with Meredy while you were heading over to a new job, but now it seemed more of a one-sided conversation as you replied rather short whenever she asked you a question.

Of course, this didn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend who wondered what got into you. He had hardly heard you say a word today. He thought about the fight yesterday and guilt immediately started to sink in. Not only that, but he didn’t realize how hard his words must have come across until now. He was just frustrated and need a moment of silence. He didn’t realize how he hurt your feelings in the progress and felt stupid for only realizing it now. 

“Hey, (Y/N)?” He tried to catch your attention to which you turned your head with a bright smile at him and your head slightly tilted to the side “can I ask you something?”

“We’re here” Jellal announced from the front of the group as he looked down on the guild.

“We’ll talk after this,” You said and kissed him on the cheek before joining the others, leaving Erik tailing behind the group with a frown. You never refused to talk. You even gossiped with Meredy while you were fighting others. Sometimes you even tried to talk to the bad guys if you had no one to talk to. His words had hit harder than he anticipated. He obeyed your wish and joined the others.

As the fight went on, you felt yourself grow more tired and tired by the minute as all your magic was slowly fading out of your body. Keeping up that shield on yourself seemed like a good idea at first especially since it didn’t take up that much magic in the short run. Combining your own shield with other shields to protect the others blind spot as well as fighting with your sword at the same time, piled on the already draining magic, leaving you with nothing left.

Erik sporadically heard your thoughts flooding back in his head, making him alarmed. His eyes scanned the area and found you desperately holding of your enemies with your sword with no sign of you using your shields.

He didn’t hesitate for a second as he ran his way over to you, poisoning every bad guy on the way. “Your magic is drained”

“Yeah,” you breathed as you leaned on him while he held you up with one arm. It broke him that even now you hardly dared to speak to him.

Erik made eye contact with Jellal who understood that you needed to get out of this situation before you got hurt “Leave to rest to us, we’ll handle it from here”

“Let’s go, we’re leaving,” Erik said as he picked you up in his arms before leaving the scene. Hoteye created a wall of dirt, making sure nobody would follow you. You wanted to protest but decided against it given your situation and your promise to yourself to talk less.

Once he made sure you two were far enough from the scene he propped you up against a tree and sat down next to you. Your head automatically found his shoulder, but you quickly lifted it up as you heard him heavily sigh. You looked at him with a questioning look. “Can you please stop trying to suppress your thoughts”

This made you even more confused “I thought you didn’t want my thoughts swimming 24/7 through your head?”

“I’m so sorry that I made you feel like that. That you felt like you had to form a shield around yourself just to give me some silence. I was frustrated and tired yesterday. I didn’t mean what I said. Not only that, but I didn’t even apologize for my actions afterwards. I should’ve realized sooner how bad my words would’ve affected you” He apologized as he took your hand in his and stared you directly in the eyes, showing how much he regretted his words.

“You shouldn’t apologize, you were right after all. I talk too much, and I never take your feelings into consideration when I ramble. It should be me apologizing” You said.

“No, hey, listen, that’s not true. You don’t talk too much. If there is only one sound I could listen for the rest of my life, it’s the sound of your voice. I love the sound of your laugh, the way you sing horribly out of tune with whatever song that pops up in your head, the way you just talk when you tell me what gossip Meredy heard this time. Your voice is like literal music to my ears, so please don’t ever cut me off from my favourite song again.” He said, making you tear up at his loved filled words.

You placed a soft kiss on his lips, breaking away once you ran out of breath and placing your forehead on his, “I’m sorry for not coming to you with my insecurities”

“Please let me in next time. I’ll gladly show how wrong those inner demons are” he kissed you again with all the love he could give.

“You see, Jellal! That’s how you get a girl!” You could Meredy say, making the two of you part away while laughter took over you. 

[arctickat2400]

Say You Won't Let Go <> Damon Salvatore

I stomped down the stairs after Stefan just gave me some random lecture on how I’m not being safe and how I’m putting myself in danger. How in hell am I putting myself in danger? I don’t see how that’s possible when Stefan barely lets me leave the house as it is. Like he can’t just lock me in this house for the rest of my life. I mean, I do feel very safe in this house, but it doesn’t mean I want to be locked in it forever.

Anyways, I stomped down the Salvatore stairwell, tears brimming my eyes. I walked through the halls and just as I was about to open the front door, I heard a voice that belonged to someone who I’ve had feelings for for awhile.

“What’s wrong, Kitty?” Damon stopped me, using my favorite nickname for me. He’s always giving me nicknames, but that one was my favorite and he always calls me that. And, Damon was like a brother to me, always caring for me and talking to me.

I turn around, wiping the excess tears off with the back of my hand. Damon gestures for me to go to him in the living room. I walk up to him as he wraps me in his arms, giving me a tight hug.

He lets go after a few seconds as I sniffle every now and then.

“Stefan broke up with me. It was stupid, but I guess it was for the best. I guess it just wasn’t working for him.” I told Damon.

“But, you don’t need to listen to my problems. I’m too annoying to make you go through that. I’m just gonna go home. Later, Damon.” I say to him, beginning to walk to the door.

Just as I touch the doorknob, I hear Damon call to me again.

“Hey, Y/N,” I turn at the sound of my name. “You wanna get out of here for a bit? Go somewhere. I heard there’s this new karaoke bar downtown. I heard it’s thriller. You wanna go with me? Get your mind off everything.” Damon asked, and I smiled at his gesture to help me. And, of course, I couldn’t say no.

“Sure, Damon. I’d love that.” I smiled at him, my cheeks blushing a bright red.

It’s weird. Why would I want to go to a karaoke bar? It was a club thing and there would be lots of people there. I hated big crowds and I hated parties and stuff like that. I guess i just really needed to get out.

Damon dropped what he was doing, slipping his phone into his back pocket and led me to his car.

He opened the door for me, patiently waiting for me to get in before shutting the door behind me.

Damon was always so sweet when it came to me, yet I never knew why ‘cause he hated like everyone.

He drove to the bar only 10 minutes away. It was about 8 at night so we had all night to hopefully have fun.

We walked inside, having to show someone our ID’s to get in. We, then, walked through a curtain type thing that led to a huge room that was the size of a huge house.

It was dark and there were lasers and lights illuminating the room for a glow in the dark kind of theme.

How was I able to survive in a place like this? I could barely survive school, let alone a huge party like this.

“You ready?” Damon asked me. I breathe in and out, looking up at him and saying, “Yeah.”

We walked through the big crowds of people, myself looking back every once in awhile to make sure I hadn’t lost Damon.

He pointed to the bar as I led us to it. We found to open spot where no one was sitting.

“I think you might need a drink or two.” Damon suggested, seeing as if I was still sad and down.

“I don’t think…” I didn’t get to finish when Damon called for the bartender.

“Two shots please.” Damon told the bartender.

This was my first club and my first ever drink that consisted of alcohol. Everyone has told me good things about these places and getting drinks and getting drunk, but I have never done it. This night is not gonna end well.

Two small glasses were set in front of Damon and I. The bartender filled the glasses with a clear substance that just looked like sparkling water.

I knew nothing about this world.

“You good?” Damon questioned with a smile.

“Yeah.” Was the only thing I said. I took the tiny glass in my fingers as I held it up to my lips. I watched Damon, having never seen this done before, as he dipped his head back, consuming the beverage.

I did the same, dipping my head back and drowning myself in what I think was Vodka. It was kinda sweet, but somewhat sour I guess. But I think I knew what everyone was talking about.

“That was…” I paused, thinking of the word. “Amazing!” I shouted, and Damon just laughed.

After a minute, “Hey, you wanna dance?” Damon asked me, gesturing to the hundreds of people on the dance floor.

I just smiled and nodded.

Damon led me to the middle of the dance floor, and to be honest, I had no idea how to dance. But, I just followed Damon.

I ended up just shaking around and I’m not even sure that what I was doing was dancing. Damon kept laughing at me, but I just embraced it as I took off my sweatshirt and wrapping it around my waist.

We danced the night away, Damon and I having the time of our lives.

At this point, I might have consumed like 20 shots, and I was everywhere. I was drunk off my ass and I’m surprised that I was more drunk than Damon. I guess he’s just had more experience with this kinda thing than I’ve had.

We went back and forth between the bar and the dance floor, taking many, many shots and drank a few bottles of beer. I gotta say, Vodka and tequila shots are much better than beer. But that’s just my opinion.

We laughed so much tonight, I don’t think i have ever laughed this much in my entire life, and I laugh a lot.

We danced some more, Damon laughing at every move I make.

We make it back to the bar and I was so drunk that I could barely stand. I was all over the place and I kept laughing at absolutely nothing.

I kept glancing at Damon and every time, he was always staring at me and smiling when I smiled or laughed. He actually never took his eyes off me at all tonight. I guess he just wanted to keep an eye on me, make sure I was doing okay or didn’t do anything stupid.

“You having fun, Kitty?” He smiled at me, drinking some beer out of a bottle.

“Are you kidding? I’m having the time of my life! This is amazing! And I feel like I can barely breathe!” I shouted over all the noise, laughing.

“Now,” I paused, slamming my hand somewhat hard on the bar. “Let’s do another.” I tell Damon in a laugh, meaning another shot contest.

“Y/N, to be honest, I think you’ve have enough. As much as I love seeing you this happy and laughing so much, I think you need to go home.” He tells me. And as much as I wanted to stay and have more fun, I think it would be a good, and smart, idea to go home.

I stumbled off my chair, but I was so drunk, I lost my balance. Luckily, Damon was her to catch me before I fell.

“Yeah, I definitely need to get you home.” Damon said as I started laughing.

Out of nowhere, I squealed mixed with a laugh as Damon threw me over his shoulder, my arms wrapping around his torso.

He carried me out of the bar and out to the car as I couldn’t stop laughing.

He put me in the front seat, buckling me up. And I guess I passed out right when he set me down, ‘cause when I opened my eyes, we were already in the Salvatore driveway.

I wasn’t laughing anymore. I guess when I passed out, that’s when y laughing stopped. I knew that I will have the biggest hangover in my life tonight and the biggest headache tomorrow morning.

I hopped out of the car and again, I almost lost my balance. Damon sped over to me, catching me once again. He picked me up bridal style as I snuggled into his chest. He carried me inside, locking the front somehow with me in his arms.

Damon’s POV

Y/N was amazing tonight. She’s usually pretty cool, but tonight at the bar, she was awesome. She would not stop laughing and she got so drunk. I was pretty proud of her. She’s turning out to be like me. And I don’t even know what I think of that.

I drove her home after I knew she'd had enough. This was her first time at a bar, well except for Mystic Grill, and this is also her first time getting drunk. Even when she was drunk as hell, she was still as beautiful as ever. And her laugh was like a choir of singing angels. I loved her laugh and I loved her. Yes, I said that.

She got out of the car and, like before, she almost fell, but I caught her before she hit the ground.

“Hey, hey. You’re okay.” I told her as she moaned. I picked her up bridal style in my arms, carrying her inside, her head laying on my chest.

I walked through the halls after closing the door just as Stefan walked towards us.

“What happened? Is Y/N okay? Is she drunk?” Stefan asked, stroking her forehead. I backed up a bit, pulling Y/N away from Stefan, knowing she didn’t want him touching her.

“I don’t know mom. Am I?” Y/N joked, lifting her head. I wanted to laugh so much. I love drunk sarcastic Y/N. “Why do you care anyways?” Y/N said, laying her head back on my chest.

“The lady has spoken.” I joked, looking back up at Stefan from Y/N. “She’s just a bit drunk.” I added.

“Yeah, I can see that.” Stefan said with a sarcastic tone.

“Asshole.” I heard Y/N say. She tried whispering it so Stefan wouldn’t hear, but he did.

Stefan just sighed and threw his hands up in the air in defeat, walking off.

“Nice, Y/N.” I laughed at her. I loved it when she was snarky like that. She let out another giggle.

Y/N’s POV

Damon carried me upstairs and into his room. Just as he was walking to his bed, I felt my stomach twist. Here comes one part of my hangover.

I slid off of Damon’s arms, running as fast as I could to his very large bathroom.

I kneeled down and started vomiting into the toilet. Damon ran up behind me and held my hair up.

“It’s okay, Y/N. Let it out. This is just part of the fun of getting drunk and having fun.” Damon laughed, holding my hair and rubbing my back. Some fun it is.

I turned around once I was finished and smiled a weak smile at him. He smiled back, saying, “C’mon, kitty. Let’s get you some rest.” He lifted me up, carrying me over to the bed.

He set me down, walking over to his dresser and taking out one of his black t-shirts that are rather big on me, reaching down to my knees at least. He was tall and I was short. What can I say?

Damon helped me take my soaking wet top off, replacing my shirt that wasn’t drenched in alcohol with his clean black shirt.

He took my pants off, leaving me in my underwear. He covered me in his blanket, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Thanks, Damon. For everything. Tonight was like the best night of my life and it was ‘cause of you. Well, except for the hangover… and the vomiting.” I said and we both laughed. I turned on my side,laying my head on his pillow.

“But, it was a great night and I can’t thank you enough.” I added, smiling at him. He smiled back, his smile leaving as fast as it came as he stood up, tucking me in a little more.

“It’s late, Y/N. Get some rest.” He said, beginning to walk out of the room.

“Hey, where are you going?” I asked, sitting up, the pain beginning to hit me from my upcoming headache. But, I didn’t want him to leave.

He walked back to me, lightly pushing me, carefully laying me back down.

“I’ll be here when you wake up. Don’t worry. Get some sleep.” Damon smiled at me, kissing my forehead as I closed my eyes and falling into a very needed deep sleep.

Damon’s POV

I woke up on the couch to a crash coming from the kitchen.

I ran in, seeing Y/N popping up from behind the island.

“Y/N, what’re you doing?” I asked her, walking to her as she leaned on the island, her hand rubbing her forehead.

“My head was just too much and I needed some Advil and water, but you were still sleeping. Stefan was gone and even if he was still here, I don’t want to talk to him. I tried to get it myself and when I tried to reach for a glass, I couldn’t reach it and I fell. And the glass fell with me and broke… and I’m sorry, Damon.” Y/N mumbled on. I could sense how much pain she was in and she seemed kinda stressed. I could tell how much the hangover was getting to her.

“Y/N, you have nothing to apologize for. It’s nothing to worry about. As long as you didn’t get hurt, everything is fine. Stefan will just clean it up later.” I told her with a small laugh at the end.

I walked over to her, careful not to step on the glass as I lifted her up onto the island so she wouldn’t step on any glass.

I went to grab another glass, watching for the glass on the ground. I filled it with water, getting some Advil and handing it to Katie.

After she took it, she closed her eyes and breathes heavily. I, then, picked her up in my arms, carrying her back upstairs.

“You really need rest, this being your first hangover. And as a vampire, your senses to this kind of thing are heightened, so you need to be careful what you do.” I explained to her.

“Well, why isn’t this affecting you like it’s affecting me?” She asked me as I set her back on my bed.

“‘Cause I have more experience with this kind of thing than you do, and also, you drank way more than me. I knew last night that you you might drink more than me so I made sure to drink less so I could make sure you were okay.” I told her while tucking her into bed.

“Well, thank you. But this headache is just too excruciating.” She paused, swinging her arm over her eyes. “Do you mind closing the curtains? The light is making it worse.” She complained.

The thing was, the curtains were already closed, my room as dark as it will ever be in the morning. Her senses were more heightened than I thought.

“Y/N, the curtains are already closed.” I mentioned to her.

“Oh.” Is all she said, realization sinking is as she uncovered her eyes from under her arm.

“The medicine she help soon.” I told her, standing up from beside her.

“Wait, Damon,” She called for me. I turned back to her.

“C-Can you stay with me?” She asked with a bit of hesitation, looking up at me. I let out a small laugh.

“Of course, Y/N.” I said, walking over to the other side of the bed and crawling in next to her. She rolled over onto her side to face me as I did the same as we stared into each other’s eyes.

“Damon, can I tell you something?” she asked, and I smiled in response.

“You have been more than just my ex’s brother to me. You have always been there for me, always helping me and saving my life more times than I can count.” I laughed at that. She continued. “And I can’t thank you more. But I’ve known you for awhile now, and nothing can deny what I’m about to say. Damon… I love you.” She told me.

I never thought that she would ever like me. I mean, after all the bad things I’ve done, after how bad she’s seen me act and the bad things I’ve done to her and her family, she’s still worthy of me.

I’ve loved Y/N since the day I met her. When Stefan brought her home, she walked in and I couldn’t deny my feeling for her. I guess love at first sight was real.

“Y/N, I…” But she interrupted me before I could go on. She rolled over onto her other side so she wouldn’t be looking at me.

“Oh my god, I hate myself so much. I can’t believe I actually thought that you’d like be back. That you’d like someone like me.” She started, burying her head in the pillow.

“Y/N…” I tried to get her attention.

“No, I know what you’re going to say and I knew it was coming. I just can’t believe how stupid I was to say that out loud.” She continued. But I wouldn’t let her go on any longer.

I crawled closer to her without her noticing. I swung my arm over her stomach, hovering over her body. I turned her chin towards me as she looked at me, my eyes staring into her beautiful blue ones.

“Y/N, you really need to shut up sometimes.” I smiled at her.

“What…” But I didn’t let her speak again when I leaned down and smashed my lips onto hers.

Our lips moved in perfect sync as she rolled over towards me.

“I love you, too, Y/N. I have since the day I met you.” I told her as we stared into each other’s eyes as I stroke her cheek with my thumb.

“I don’t want you to go.” She paused, looking into my eyes with a hopeful look in her eyes. “Say you won’t let go.” She demanded, hopefully. I couldn’t hold back a smiled. I bit my lips with a smile as I stared at her.

“I won’t let go. Never.” I admitted and it was true. I never wanted to let go.

I hovered over her as she giggled and I couldn’t not smile when she giggled. It was my favorite.

“And that giggle of yours is killer.” Her smiled grew bigger as well as mine as I leaned down and kissed her beautiful, soft lips once more.

[spencerreidscoffeecup]

Sober Words (pt.2 Drunk Words..)

Summary: Pt. 2 for my past one shot!: 'Drunk Words Are Sober Thoughts'.

After Spencer's late-night, drunken admittance to Y/n that he is in love with her, they both must come to terms with what he proclaimed to her the night before. Now, as he wakes up in her arms, will he remember what he said?

CW: fluff, kissing, Spencer has a slight headache, brief talk of alcohol consumption, penetrative sex, heavy petting, exhibitionalism (sex in a secluded, dandelion park lol), oral sex (female recieving), unprotected sex, dirty talk

AN: you all asked for it!! I hope you enjoy! <3

Word Count: 3375

--

Spencer's POV:

It was so peaceful; the morning sun pouring through the bedroom window, the white curtains fluttering lightly in the small, soft, spring breeze that brisked through the barely open window.

I was at peace.

I felt even better when I felt her arms around me, my face snuggled against her chest and my arms encasing her gently. My heart thrummed along as I tilted my head upwards to catch a glimpse of the beautiful woman's face.

She looked so tranquil, so at rest.

Her eyes were fluttered closed, the soft breaths she took making my body flitter with enthrallment. Her hair was splayed out on the pillow below her, some strays falling on her face. Her skin smelled of soft lavender that was dipped in sweet honey, the smell calming and almost nostalgic.

Small, fragile indents creased the corner of her sleeping eyes even though she was merely twenty-five. Those indents that were previously formed gently by her illuminating smile that made my breath catch in my throat would soon turn to wizened wrinkles in the future. They would tell the story of how beautiful her soul was when she was younger--and when she got older, people would come to realize how warm her soul was throughout her life, even as an elder.

The thought of growing old with her made my chest tighten with emotion and slight anxiety.

God, I love her so much.

This thought seemed to spark an electric wire in my brain that had since been short-circuited.

Memories from my drunken state the night before flashed through my mind like a stereoscope.

---

"Y/n?" I asked quietly, my eyes closed as I leaned into her touch. "I love you so much."

I could practically hear the smile that creeped up on her face, but my intoxicated brain was too foggy with alcohol and pure, beautiful, love for the girl to see it clearly.

She responded, "I love you too, Spence."

No you don't, I thought, my sad heart twisted slightly in my chest. You won't love me the way I love you.

"No, no," I stopped my movements by holding her wrist, looking up at her through my eyelashes. "I love you. More than a friend would."

The truth is scary, but nonetheless, it is the truth.

I surrender.

The truth is too powerful.

"Shh, go to sleep, love." she shushed. I felt my eyes become sad, my bottom lip puffing out a bit.

Oh, no! Why did I admit this!, my drunk brain wheezed, my chest aching with pain and sadness.

"Do you not love me that way?" I asked childishly.

Please love me that way.

---

Unfortunately for me, that was all I could get my brain to remember. I tried closing my eyes tightly, as though that would spur the inebriated memory to resurface. But alas, it didn't work.

I cursed at myself for gulping down drinks the night before. Yes, I regretted it slightly because of my throbbing headache, but also because if I wasn't stupidly drunk last night, I would be able to remember what the angel I was currently holding in my grasp had said to me. Or, it would have played out differently and either:

1) we would be together

or

2) our friendship would be awkward and ruined by my admittance.

Truthfully, I never drink. I never ever had the urge to. However, when Derek told me last night that I should 'shoot my shot' with Y/n, my anxiety had kicked in, and I thought that having just a few drinks would help loosen me up.

Oh, how foolish I was to believe such a thing.

I remembered.. Singing??.. to Y/n, and I also remembered hearing her bubbly laughter, which made my insides squirm happily, but I didn't remember much else.

Come on, why have an eidetic memory when I can't use it for something as crucial as this?

My battling thoughts were silenced as I felt the beauteous girl above me stir, her body curling into mine, a small whine exiting her throat.

I chose to put on a brave front, even though I was practically pissing myself on the inside. Her grip tightened on me, and I heard a deep inhale come from her nose before her eyes fluttered open, a small, tired smile gracing her drowsy--but ethereal--face.

"Hi," she whispered, a small crackle to her sleepy voice as our faces were so close, my cheeks no doubt turned a light pink.

"Hi," I whispered back, nuzzling my head into her shoulder and kissing her neck softly. She giggled. My fingertips buzzed with butterflies.

"Did you just wake up?" she asked, combing her lithe fingers through my hair.

"Yes."

It wasn't technically a lie, I mean, I had woken up about fifteen minutes ago. However, my urges to watch her in a deep slumber had apparently fought and passed time.

She hummed, wrapping her arms around my neck as I lay on her body. Her arms extend out to my lower back and I hear her yawn, my head still cuddling up close to her neck, my arms still wrapped around her.

I have to be dead. This is certainly heaven.

She gently massages my back as best as she can with my body still laying on top of her.

It's quiet for a moment until she speaks again.

"Spence, do you remember our conversation from last night?" she asks, and I feel my heart temporarily halt its happy beating.

"S-Some of it," I stammer, rolling off of her body to lie next to her. "Uhm, why?"

She looks sort of sad, and I wish I could remember last night.

"No reason," she kisses my nose softly before getting up and going to the bathroom. I feel my face burn a light crimson. "Hey, you wanna go to the park today?" she calls from the bathroom, as I check the time on my watch.

It reads: 9:30 am.

"Sure," I called back, sitting up in bed. She walks back to her room from her bathroom, taking her gray tank top off.

Jesus-

I gulp, pausing before finishing my sentence as I look away from her and her bare chest.

"Uh, w-which, uhm," I cleared my throat. "Which park?" I squeak.

I hear her hangers screech softly against her closet's clothing rack. "The one that's secluded and has all of those little dandelions.. Hey-"

She walks in front of my view as I was previously looking out her window.

She's completely naked except she's in her small, cotton panties, and I feel my breath hitch.

It's not like Y/n and I haven't seen one another naked-- we're great friends. We've showered together and exchanged slightly intimate touches, and I never thought much of it because of how much I love her.

We're intimate best friends, and I love it. She makes me feel good about my body and the way I look and am--and I do the same to her.

But usually when we take showers together, we turn the light off and only light some candles--I mean, that's what friends do, right?

I loved it nonetheless.

She would always wash my hair and kiss my chest, and I would always rub her shoulders and kiss her neck. Nothing out of the ordinary.

But going back to me recently, I had never seen her practically naked in broad daylight. Not that I was complaining; because I was definitely not. She was so beautiful. The stretch marks that lined the tops of her thighs and spiraled into extraordinary patterns and paths were just so perfect. Everything about her was perfect.

Even the imperfect things.

I tried to stray my eyes away from her puckered nipples as she held two shirts out in front of her.

"Which one do you think would be cute for today?" she asks.

"Uhm, th-the red tank top and floral skirt," I peep, smiling softly.

She grins, then kisses me on the forehead.

"Thank you, love."

She walks away and I blush even harder, humming a little of course.

She begins changing and talking. "You know, I think there are two things people waste their money on: bras and matching socks." I laugh softly, cuddling up to her pillow as I watch her slip into her skirt.

She isn't wearing a bra--of course, and whenever she does wear a bra, I can see how uncomfortable she is in them.

They do seem uncomfortable, if I am being totally honest.

"You know, there are few studies supporting if it is better to wear a bra or not, but most researchers say that it's actually better to not wear a bra. One of the few research projects to provide any kind of conclusion was a 15-year study completed in 2013 by Jean-Denis Rouillon, a professor in France. In his research, he concluded bras provide no benefits to women and might actually be harmful to breasts over time. Rouillon said his study involving 300 women ages 18 to 35 showed that women who did not wear bras developed more muscle tissue to provide natural support." I rambled, and Y/n giggled.

"Are you just wanting to see my tits, Spencer?"

My face heated up and I sat up quickly. "N-no! I just- I was just supporting what you were saying! N-not that I don't want to see your breasts, b-because I do! No- w-wait! That's not what I meant- I-"

Just keep digging yourself a rabbit hole, Spencer.

"Spence, relax," Y/n chuckled, fluffing her hair up in the bedroom mirror. "I was just joking, love."

I smiled meekly, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"R-right, sorry," I stand up from the bed, tossing the Advil and water that was left there from the night before and smile at Y/n fixing her hair. "You're so pretty." I add, feeling myself blush at how loudly I said such a thing.

It's the truth.

Y/n blushes, turning around and rolling her eyes playfully. "Go get dressed, Prettyboy."

I laugh softly and pick out a button up and slacks that I left in her closet just in case something similar to last night ever happened. Usually it was for sleepovers or if I abruptly came over for comfort late at night after a bad--or long (or bad and long)-- case, but I was grateful to use it today.

--

It's four in the afternoon before we make it out of her apartment.

We decided to stay at the park until golden hour because the weather always feels the best in the late-afternoon.

We spread a picnic blanket out in the secluded park area, and cuddle up together.

She laughs as we snack on small fruits that we packed in containers.

Y/n straddles my thigh as we see who can tie a cherry stem in their mouth the quickest. Small laughs and giggles erupt from our mouths as we try to keep serious. My hands are placed behind me as a means to hoist myself up.

She's barefoot, her cherry red toenails gleaming in the lazy sun. I still am in my dinosaur and striped socks.

Alas, I end up tying the quickest and tightest knot of the cherry stem, and she jokingly whines in defeat. She collapses onto my chest, and I fall back, our loud laughs echoing throughout the secluded park. Dandelions dance to the cool breeze around us as the sun begins to set.

We calm down and Y/n looks up at me through her doe-eyes.

I can't do this.

My heart is heavy.

I can't keep the truth inside of me any longer.

"I love you, Y/n," the light smile on my face dropped slowly, and was soon replaced with pure sincerity. Y/n's smile drops, and I can feel this yearning between us. "I love you." I quietly say again, our eyes never leaving one another's.

"You do?" she asks, her voice thick.

I nod. "I love you. I love everything about you. I can never get you out of my mind. Everything is so beautiful about you. Ever since I met you, I've loved you. I can't push my feelings down any longer.. I-I just-"

I'm soon cut off with a soft kiss from her. It's slow and soft, and my whole entire body tingles.

She pulls away. "I love you too, Spencer."

I smile wide, and she quickly does too.

Giggles burst from our chests, a sign of our relief that we finally admitted it to one another.

Memories from the night before flood back to me as we kiss again.

--

"No, Spence," she begins, dragging her thumb softly across my cheekbone. The touch lights my skin aflame. "I love you that way, too. So, so much."

"Really?" I smiled, my eyes beginning to close.

"Really." She reassures me.

--

I feel as though I am floating as she and I continue to kiss, our lips just conveying how much we truly care for each other.

She lies down next to me, and we just look at each other. My hand drifts across her face, and she nuzzles into my touch. We just admire one another for a few minutes, a blush still burning lightly on the apples of our cheeks.

"C-can I kiss you?" I ask quietly, glancing at her lips then looking back at her eyes, as though this is our first kiss. She nods with a small smile on her face, making me go closer to her before placing my hand on her cheek.

Then, I kissed her deeply. We then pull away and I ask once again, catching my breath lightly. "Can I continue kissing you?"

She giggles, pulling me in, then gets on top of me.

Between each kiss, our mantra is repeated. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you..

Our breathing is quick and short as she helps me unbutton a few buttons of my shirt, and I help pull her tank top over her breasts. My lips attach to her nipples and I kiss her chest, sucking on her skin and in between the valleys of her breasts as she cries out.

Although no one is at the park and it is always secluded, I clamp my hand over her mouth, traveling my lips across the soft tissue of her neck.

I then travel back to sucking on her breasts.

Her laugh is uncontrollable as she pants, my tongue lapping over her erect nipples. I smile against her, my hands sliding up her waist and the sides of her torso. The several rings adorned on my fingers glint in the gold sun, and she gasps at how chilly they are compared to her warm skin.

I detach my mouth from her, enjoying the way her laugh sounds.

Just like her, it's beautiful.

A beautiful melody for a beautiful girl.

My thumbs run over her pebbled peaks. "Does it feel good?"

She nods, smiling bashfully. "It tickles!"

I smile again, craning my head upwards slightly to meet my lips with hers.

"Please do it again, Spence," she whispers, and I immediately take her nipple in my mouth, small giggles leaving hers as I work my tongue on her skin.

I flip her around, and she lets out a small yelp, giggling as I kiss down her chest, and up to her mouth. Her lips taste of sweet fruit and honey, and I can't seem to get enough of it.

Her back arches as I put my head under her skirt, kissing and nipping her inner thighs.

"Spence," she breathes, gasping slightly as I pull her panties down to her ankles. My tongue works between her folds as she whimpers my name, trying to keep her voice at a reasonable level. My hands hold her hips so tightly as I pull her further down on my mouth that she is sure to have small indents where my silver rings were, as well as my fingers. I then thrust my tongue in and out of her, using my thumb to massage her clit. "Baby, I- fuck! Ugh!"

She comes, grinding her hips down on my mouth and I let her.

She tastes so sweet, and I never want to stop tasting her saccharine nectar.

My hands massage her thighs as my tongue works her through her orgasm. Her body quivers as I kiss her sensitive clit, then pull my head from her skirt.

She giggles and pulls me up to meet my lips with hers. Everything is so intoxicating--much better than the alcohol I consumed the night before.

I'm surprised when she flips me over, straddling my hard, clothed dick.

Her shirt has fallen down since she flipped both of us over, so I hoist myself up on my forearms, folding her shirt to sit on the tops of her breasts and kiss suck lightly on each of them as she sighs with content. Y/n bends down to kiss my lips.

"Do you want this?" she asks, and I feel a surge of excitement blossom through me at the idea of doing something so scandalous in a park.

I nod, unable to swim in our usual repartee. "So bad. I love you."

"I love you," she whispers, the golden sun making her eyes glow.

She helps me get free from the confinement of my slacks, my dick tapping my lower belly and she groans softly.

"S-sorry, I know it's n-not much-" I begin to babble, but she cuts me off with a chilling kiss.

"Spencer, you're so beautiful. You're perfect, and it's perfect."

I blush, and she pulls her panties aside, kissing me softly as she begins to inch down onto my length. Her walls flutter around my cock, and I feel as though I am floating on cloud 9.

I pull her tight tank top over her breasts once more, the cool air making her shudder slightly. I wrap my arms around her as she inches up and down my dick, our moans floating above us.

"You feel so- God, Y/n- I love you-" I breathe, massaging her breasts as she whimpers and whines, her back arching.

I quickly shut up when she raised her hips so that only my tip was inside of her, letting out a loud, open mouthed moan as she fell back down. My eyes stayed fixated on my lap, watching myself disappear inside of her as she bounced quicker on my length. Her skirt was hiked up on her hips, giving me a perfect view of everything. I already felt my orgasm building.

I let her skirt flutter down and pool around us, the mental image from before igniting the wild flame that already spread within me.

"I love you, Spencer," she whines, and I smile, leaning up to kiss her breasts.

Our lips stayed connected, trading kisses and whimpers.

She giggles as I suck on her breasts, and her walls clamp around me. I groan.

"'Feel so fucking good, filling me up," she pants, and my hands firmly grasp her waist as to help her bounce harder on me. "Your fucking cock is so big-- fuck!"

I smirk as my hand begins to fumble with her clit, and she grinds her hips down on me.

"Bunny, I'm gonna cum," I moan, kissing then biting down on her shoulder. "Come with me." I beg, looking up at her.

"Me too, love--I-oh," her mouth drops into an 'O' shape as she comes on my cock with slight surprise. I follow after, letting the orgasm bubble throughout my veins. Her hands grip my hair as I kiss her breasts, trying to stifle my moan.

She slows her hips, then collapses on top of me. I'm still half-hard inside of her as she kisses my lips. We exchange small kisses and laughs as we calm down.

"I love you," I whisper, looking up at her in awe.

She smiles. "I love you."

She reaches her hands above me, picking her fair share of dandelions. My fingers trace along her spine as she begins braiding a flower crown.

I smile as she giggles, weaving the flower stems together.

I lay small kisses on her chest as she finishes up her craft.

"Princess Spencer." she laughs, placing the dandelion crown on top of my head.

I laugh, kissing her lips.

Our banter continues on throughout the night and rest of the days.

I am complete.

I am utterly happy.

Because I am with her.

[agoldengalaxy]

deny, deny, deny

read on Ao3

5 times someone told Sam and Bucky they cared about each other, and the 1 time they showed it.

--

1.

“You two bicker a lot,” Dr. Raynor says, eyeing the two men who sit, fuming, on the other side of her desk. “If you won’t speak to each other, then tell me this, instead. James, why would you ignore Sam’s texts?”

Bucky grumbles something under his breath. Sam seems genuinely curious to hear the answer. Raynor glares until Bucky sighs and repeats himself, staring at the floor. “Didn’t wanna bother ‘im.”

“What? I was the one texting you, Bucky! Why would I -”

“Just drop it, Sam.”

“…Fine.”

Folding her hands on her desk, Raynor sighs. She can’t be certain, but Bucky has been her client for a few months now, and she knows it takes a long time for him to tell the truth. In this case, however, she thinks the truth is there, as a small part of it. The way that the tips of his ears redden tell her that there must be more to it.

She isn’t blind. She has a feeling she might know that answer. So she leans forward a little. “Good. Thank you for that answer, James.” Her gaze slides to Sam, whose arms are crossed over his chest as he looks toward the wall. “How does that make you feel, Sam?”

He scoffs. “After everything I’ve done for him, he still -”

“You shouldn’t have given up the shield, Sam.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Gentlemen, please,” Raynor interrupts, feeling a headache coming on. She blows out a breath. “You’re both big boys now. You can handle this -“ she gestures vaguely, because she knows that they don’t quite understand yet, “- if you just talk to each other. Emotions are powerful things, you can’t ignore them forever.”

Bucky groans. Sam huffs.

They don’t get it. She’s not sure she wants to see them flounder, but she should put it out there, anyway. She leans forward. “Emotions including love, that you may have buried deep below.”

For a split second, she is met with stunned silence, before they both erupt, loudly. Denying, denying, denying, pushing the feelings down even deeper than they had been before despite the way that they fluster.

It’s okay, she tells herself. Deep breath in and out. They’ll accept it soon, someday.

Still, she shakes her head, effectively cutting them off. “No matter what kind of love it is, you care about each other. And that’s the bottom line. Once you cross it, things’ll be a whole lot easier.”

Sam looks at his lap, blinking. Bucky’s cheeks flush pink.

Raynor needs a drink.

2.

“This is really easy for you, isn’t it? All that serum runnin’ through your veins.” John hates the man standing in front of him. Maybe, in another life, they could have been friends. But the stubbornness just pisses him off, so he goes for Bucky’s weakness. He knows Bucky can take being insulted, but there is one thing he won’t accept. “Barnes, your partner needs backup in there.”

He watches Bucky’s cold stare waver, if only for a moment. John takes that opportunity to stand his ground, glancing behind Bucky, to that open door he wants to go through so desperately. Karli is right there, and the only thing standing in his way now is Barnes, and his stupid loyalty to Sam.

Bucky thinks so highly of Sam, he doesn’t have any other choice but to use that one weakness.

So they lock eyes again. “I know you care about him. Do you really want his blood on your hands?”

Beside him, Lemar shifts his weight from one foot to the other as Bucky looks down for a split second. John knows what it’s like. He’d never leave Lemar behind, though he knows with Sam and Bucky, things are a little different. He can feel Zemo’s eyes boring into them now, clearly amused. They wait.

Bucky’s jaw is clenched, every inch of him now rigid. John knows the feeling, and knows perhaps it might have been unfair to put him in that position; he knows he would stop at nothing if it were his wife in that room. That’s almost the equivalent of what Bucky must have been thinking.

But the ends justify the means.

Drawing in a sharp breath, Bucky turns around, his shoulders still tight, and John exchanges a look with Lemar as he speaks. “You’re right. We should help him.”

John’s grip on the shield tightens. Lemar grins. “Maybe you should tell him how you feel,” he suggests as they start up the stairs.

Bucky ignores them both, readying for the fight.

3.

“Super soldiers cannot be allowed to exist.”

“Isn’t that how gods talk?” Sam asks, cool and collected as ever. “And if that’s how you feel, then what about Bucky?”

Zemo carefully removes the ice pack from his forehead, weighing it in his hand as he sits up. He doesn’t know how to feel about Bucky just yet. For now, that question doesn’t have an answer. For now, Steve Rogers is the only exception, and he can’t imagine that changing anytime soon.

Still, he has to have some kind of fun, right?

So he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, tilting his head to get a better look at the man sitting at the table, and shrugs. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Sam blinks, eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“Come now, Sam, I always thought you were an intelligent individual,” he replies, only slightly teasing. He does like Sam. He’s righteous, level-headed, and doesn’t make any stupid decisions. Except, perhaps, the person he might have chosen to love. “What do you think of James?”

“Is this a trick question?”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

Nodding, the other smiles and looks down, gathering his thoughts. “I think he’s annoyin’ as hell,” he answers slowly. “But...he’s passionate, smart, a big softie deep down...and he always does the right thing even though he’s hurting, too.” He pauses, then adds, “I still can’t tell if breakin’ you out of jail counts as the right thing, though.”

Zemo smirks, leaning back a little, tossing the ice pack from one hand to the other. “You know, when I first met my wife, she hated my guts.”

“Can’t say I blame her, Zemo.”

He chuckles, somewhat sadly, then continues. “These fights that you and James have, over the small things, they are nothing more than just couple’s quarrels.”

Sam’s eyes widen and he turns to look at him fully, as if he’s lost his mind. “What the hell are you talkin’ about? Bucky and I are just -”

“Just what, Sam?” Zemo tilts his head, as if challenging him. This is exactly the reaction he had been hoping for. It isn’t often the calm and collected Sam Wilson loses his cool, and Zemo likes to know he’s one of the ones who can get a rise out of him. “Friends, partners, all these terms you both throw around…” He thinks back to that look on Bucky’s face when John had challenged him, and his smile returns. “Perhaps you ought to think about what you truly want.”

And okay, maybe it isn’t just wanting to get a reaction from Sam. Maybe Zemo has seen the good in both of them, and thinks, perhaps, they ought to be happy, for once. His own partner is long gone, but it isn’t too late for Sam and Bucky.

Sam opens his mouth to respond, but he is cut off by the heavy sound of the door opening, and he immediately falls silent as Bucky walks in, with news that the Dora Milaje are after Zemo. Although Sam recovers quickly, staring at his laptop, Zemo side-eyes him, wondering if he might be blushing.

So Zemo stands up, shaking his head. How juvenile.

4.

Sarah leans against the truck, wiping sweat from her forehead. It’s been hours, and she still can’t believe Sam has managed to pull off receiving this much help. She knows their parents did a lot of favors, but she never could have imagined it would pay off this much one day.

She’s already made up her mind. She can’t sell this boat. It means so much to her, and to Sam.

Her gaze drifts toward the dock, where Bucky is helping Sam carry some things to Carlos. She’s almost certain they’re bickering again, but as they walk, their shoulders almost touch. Sam smiles. It’s something she hadn’t realized she had missed so much.

Seeing her brother smile, and seeing the reason for that smile, is all the evidence she needs to agree to let Bucky crash on her couch. The sun is already dipping closer and closer to the horizon, and she knows people will begin returning home soon. Personally, she has to get the boys to bed. But she lets herself enjoy this moment as long as she can.

When Sam and Bucky place down their loads, Sarah whistles, getting their attention to wave Sam over. Bucky seems to think about following, but is soon distracted by AJ and Cass, excited to meet their uncle’s ‘cool friend.’ Sam chuckles as he tells them to behave, then makes his way over to his sister, a huge grin on his face.

“What’d I tell you? I knew we could make it work,” he says, spreading his hands. Just as confident as ever, she supposes. She rolls her eyes, but for some reason, she can’t stop smiling, and his grin fades a little. “What’re you lookin’ at me like that for?”

Sarah shakes her head. “Nothing. I just missed seeing you so happy,” she admits, because although they tease each other, although they bicker, she loves him. She has no trouble admitting she cares. Seeing the confusion on his face, she hops up to sit on the back of the truck, folding her hands in her lap. “You were gone. For a really long time. And that’s okay, I know what you had to do.” A pause. “When you came back all sad-puppy-dog in the rain that first night, my heart broke. I guess I’m just trying to say I’m glad my brother’s back.”

There’s another pause until Sam comes to sit beside her, so that their shoulders touch. He nods. “It’s been a rough couple years,” he murmurs, and she nods. It has been for both of them.

They gaze at the boys, who are excitedly coaxing Bucky to flex his metal arm, who has a confused look on his face as per usual. Sarah rests her head on Sam’s shoulder, just grateful to know she’s no longer so alone. And then she sits up, turning to face him.

“But enough of that sappy stuff,” she says. “Tell me about Bucky.”

He groans. “Don’t tell me his awful attempt at flirting was actually successful.”

“What?” Pulling a face, she shakes her head. “No, not that. Tell me about him. A guy that makes you smile that much is probably one worth keepin’ around.” She nudges his shoulder and he chuckles a little, his gaze returning to the man in question.

“You’re the second person who’s asked me about him recently.” He seems to collect his thoughts for a moment. “...He reminds me a lot of Riley, sometimes.”

Sarah nods, having expected something like that. “Is it the same?” Sam and Riley had always been close, but she had never seen them get physically close the way that Sam and Bucky did. Sam shakes his head.

“Some things are better. Some things are...more annoying.”

“It’s okay,” she assures, patting his shoulder as she slides off the truck to stand up. “In case you were wonderin’, I still know everything, and I also happen to know he feels exactly the same about you. He cares about you, and I know you care, too, so it’s up to you to do somethin’ with it.” She grins as a stunned look appears on his face, walking away before he can even think of something to reply with.

She hopes they can get their heads out of their asses and realize it. After all, having Bucky around could be pretty helpful.

5.

“I’m sorry for how things ended down there.” A lie. “But for what it’s worth, suit looks good on you.”

Things had gotten dangerously close for Sharon. Too close. Luckily, though, Sam and Bucky haven’t found out the truth. If they had...well, she doesn’t want to think about what she would have to do if that were the case.

But here he is, their new Captain America, standing there in front of her with a soft chuckle and a slight nod. “Thanks.”

“All right, look, can we get out of here, please?” Bucky interjects, sounding...somewhat annoyed, for some reason. Her abdomen hurts terribly, but it’s not like she can’t handle a single gunshot wound. Still, standing around probably isn’t going to do her any good, so she nods and lets Bucky guide her.

They walk in silence for a little while until she looks at him. His gaze is fixed ahead, maybe lost in thought about something. Her eyes narrow a little. “What was that all about?”

“What was what all about?”

“I mean, you basically cut Sam off. Why’d you wanna leave so bad?” Her interest is peaked when she notices that, despite the fact that his expression barely changes, his ears redden.

Bucky clears his throat. “In case you forgot, you’re kind of bleeding out here, Sharon.”

She huffs. “I told you, I’m fine.” Watching him for a moment, she attempts to piece the puzzle together. His eyes hadn’t left Sam since he returned with Karli’s body. Back at her apartment, he’d seemed almost angry when she had complimented Sam without his shirt on. It dawns on her and she smirks. “Oh, don’t tell me you have a crush.”

His ears redden further. She guessed right.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I like you?” Deflecting the accusation and dissing her all in one go. She’s almost impressed.

“We both know I’m not talking about myself.” She grabs his arm, and they both stop walking. He won’t look her in the eye. “Hey, it’s okay, all right? Your secret’s safe with me.” Of course, unless he gets in her way. That’s a bridge she’ll cross if it comes to it. “For what it’s worth, I think he’s a great candidate for you.”

Bucky frowns, shaking his head a little. “...I don’t wanna talk about this.”

Sighing, she nods. “Of course you don’t. Look, you should just go for it. What do you have to lose?”

A flicker of pain flashes across his face. “Everything,” he mumbles, almost inaudibly.

“Sam wouldn’t leave you if he didn’t feel the same. You shouldn’t hide from him.” She winces, then, not quite sure why she’s giving him advice. If he knew the truth, he’d have left her to die. But she doesn’t dwell on that, feeling his hand on her arm to ground her, and they begin walking again.

Bucky doesn’t say anything else, and neither does Sharon. She might have gone down a different path a long time ago, but she still thinks they both deserve to be happy.

Unless, of course, they get in her way.

+1

It’s late when Bucky comes to Sam’s door, knocking quietly before opening it to stand in the doorway, offering a beer out to him. “Fresh air?”

Sam accepts, and they walk outside together, footsteps sounding in tandem on the empty dock. A fresh sea breeze whips past, but not enough for either of them to get cold, the smell of salt filling their noses and the last couple cries of the seagulls before they settle in for the night.

They stop in front of the boat, admiring the work they had done on it together. Sam breaks the silence first. “Thanks for helpin’ out. With everything.”

Bucky looks at him and nods. “You’re welcome.” A pause. “It’s nice here, you know. Quiet. Nothing like New York.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yeah, I think it is.”

They gaze at each other for a moment before turning to their bottles. Silence is filled by the quiet crashing of waves in the distance. There’s a tension there that hadn’t been there before; an unspoken understanding of the situation.

Sam looks at Bucky, noticing the way the shadows under his eyes look a little lighter than they had been before. Bucky’s jaw is clenched, showcasing the stubble he’s been letting grow out, and Sam can’t help but think he looks princely.

And Bucky looks at Sam, at the way the moonlight so perfectly etches his features, his eyes bright as they stare back at him. He remembers the way Sam’s eyes crinkle when he smiles, how he reminds him of a sunshine that had pulled him from the deep, dark abyss he had been stuck in after Steve left.

They aren’t sure how long they’ve been standing there, quietly. Two words tear from Bucky’s throat, like he has no choice in the matter. “Sam, I…-”

Instead of answering, Sam steps closer, cupping one of Bucky’s cheeks, smashing their lips together. It’s rough but sweet.  Sam tastes like vanilla. Bucky tastes like beer. And nothing has ever felt so right before.

Sam pulls away and chuckles. “I hope that was what you were gonna say.”

Bucky smiles, though his face is bright red, placing a hand on Sam’s hip to pull him closer. “Somethin’ like that. Want to say it again?”

“I like that idea.”

They suppose they can put the promise of ‘going their separate ways’ on hold for a little while.

[mistresseast]

Here is my shuake temporary amnesia threadfic I posted to Twitter earlier! Presented to you in screenshots for the full cinematic experience of being spammed with gross fluff on your timeline. The complete text is under the cut in case you don’t want to or can’t wade through all of those images ❤️

The procedure was really simple. Akira’s appendix hadn’t burst or anything, it was just inflamed and the doctor decided to have it removed as a precaution. Nothing to get worked up about, Goro kept telling himself. His husband would be in and out within a day, no hospital stay required.

Akira was all jokes before the surgery, teasing Goro about putting on a nurse’s outfit to take care of him at home, and Goro just said something threatening about suppositories, which earned a cheeky laugh.

It didn’t take long, and the other thieves showed up right as Akira was getting out. He was pretty woozy as the anesthesia wore off, but Goro was just relieved everything had gone perfectly, according to the surgeon.

When Goro comes back, eyes red-rimmed but dry, the thieves are visibly struggling to hold it together. Ryuji is facing the corner, shoulders shaking. Ann and Futaba are clinging to each and Haru has her hand over her mouth. Makoto is holding her head like she has a headache.

Except when Akira is coherent again, he’s...weird. He keeps avoiding Goro’s eyes and he barely responds to the others when they speak to him. Goro tries to take his hand, and he locks up, going pale. The others just watch, looking awkward, and Goro excuses himself, suddenly feeling ill.

Akira is sitting up in bed, beaming.

“What happened?” Goro asks.

Sumi smiles innocently. “Nothing.”

Goro eyes them all with suspicion. “The neurologist will be here soon to clear him for discharge.”

“Great,” Ann squeaks.

“Somehow, I do not think--” Yusuke starts before two of the others shush him.

Well, that’s weird, but when are the thieves not weird? Goro is more interested in Akira, who’s staring at him with a crooked grin.

“Feeling better?” Goro asks, retaking his seat.

“I am now that you’re here,” Akira says, flashing him a wink.

Goro squints at him. “Are you sure? You were pretty out of it earlier. I can go get a doctor—”

“That was nothing,” Akira insists. “I was just surprised to wake up to someone so pretty waiting at my bedside.”

“Oh is that what it was.” Rolling his eyes, Goro sits forward to guide Akira back down against the pillows. “You shouldn’t be sitting up. You’ll pop your stitches.”

“Yes, sir.” Akira lies back obediently and catches Goro’s hand when he tries to pull away. “I can think of some more fun ways to pop them, anyway. Are you free later?”

Goro stares at him while Futaba lets out a hysterical giggle and Makoto mumbles something.

“You think you’re so cute,” Goro says eventually. “The doctor said to hold off on that for at least a week.”

"Oh, right." Akira hitches up his coy smile. "What's your schedule like in a week, then?"

Cheeks warm, Goro cuts his eyes to the others, who are all studiously avoiding looking at the bed. "What's gotten into you?" he scolds. Akira is never this…overt in public.

Akira's smile droops. "I...sorry, I—" He flicks a glance at the others as well, and Goro catches Ann giving an encouraging little hand wave.

"What?" Goro directs at her. "Is something wrong?"

She shakes her head quickly, eyes wide and glittering.

"Everything's fine," Akira insists. "I was just...uh, wondering if, after I'm recovered, you'd like to grab some coffee or something?"

Goro furrows his brows at him. "You realize that's a ridiculous question, right? What are you playing at?"

"But—you—" Frowning, Akira darts a look down at the ring encircling Goro's fourth finger, then over at the rest of his friends. "You guys—"

Futaba bursts out laughing and Ryuji nearly keels over from the force of his own elated wheezing. Makoto pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Sorry," Akira mumbles, releasing Goro's hand, cheeks red. "I guess they thought it'd be funny to play a trick on a sick person."

"A trick?" Goro repeats blankly.

"Of course you're already taken, someone as hot as you—" Akira scrubs a hand through his hair. "I saw your ring but they said it wasn't—you weren't—"

Realization clicks in Goro's head and he angles a glare at the others, which apparently breaks the final seal because the remaining thieves, minus Makoto, dissolve into helpless giggling.

"I'm really sorry," Akira continues, oblivious. "If I knew, I wouldn't have hit on you, but you're just so...and when I woke up and saw you being so nice to me, I thought, you know—" he grimaces. 

"Oh my god." Goro rubs his temples.

"When you left, I asked them if you were single and they said yes, but they were just taking me for a ride." Akira scowls at the others. "Not cool, guys."

Futaba snorts. She has her phone out and pointed at them but Goro can't worry about that at the moment. "Akira, how much do you remember right now?"

Akira shrugs. "Everything's pretty hazy. I figured you all had to be my friends since you don't look like family and you were all really happy when I woke up, but I can't remember the specifics. That happens with anesthesia sometimes, right?"

"Yes, it—" Goro breaks off on a sigh.

"Look, I'm really sorry again," Akira says earnestly, "—and I hope this doesn't make things awkward with us, but I just wanna say that I hope whoever you're with knows how lucky they are."

"Oh, they do," Ryuji pipes up. "They never shut up about it!"

The others all snicker and Goro wishes he was close enough to elbow Ryuji in the gut.

"Good." Akira smiles sadly, putting Goro in mind of a kitten left in the rain. "Who is it, anyway? Do I know them?"

Goro makes a strained noise in the back of his throat. "Akira, it's you."

Akira blinks. "What?"

Digging in his pocket, Goro produces a simple silver band and grabs Akira's hand. "You're the person I'm with, we're married—" he slides the ring into Akira's unresisting finger. "And your friends are all assholes."

Akira stares slack-jawed at his ring. "Wait, really?" He glances between Goro and the others. "Really?"

Goro nods with another sigh while the others struggle to compose themselves.

"Sorry," Ann says, at least looking a little contrite. "When we realized he didn't remember you, we just couldn't resist."

"We owe you," Sumi titters. "Please don't be mad! We'll make it up to you!"

"You absolutely will," Goro grumbles, already planning just how he's going to make the thieves pay for this.

"Hang on—" Akira snags Goro's hand again, eyes shining. "We're really married?"

"Yes," Goro answers patiently. "For nearly two years."

"Holy shit," Akira marvels. "How did I manage that?"

"Here we go," Futaba groans.

Goro shoots her a warning look before reaching over and smoothing Akira's fringe off his forehead. "Hopefully you'll remember that on your own soon." He doesn't really want to recount the whole operatic series of events.

Akira leans shamelessly into the touch, a dopey smile growing on his face. 

The neurologist assures them that Akira's brain is fine and that this kind of disorientation is common after general anesthesia. Nevertheless, he stays in the hospital until his memories start returning.

"Look at it this way," Ann suggests while Akira hides his face in embarrassment and Goro signs his discharge papers. "Now you both know that Akira's not just into you because you tried to kill him."

Goro still isn't pleased with the thieves, but he's starting to see the humor in the situation. "That's definitely a load off my mind. Though now I'll have to rethink our anniversary plans."

Akira whines something that sounds like "please stop"

"I did quite enjoy hearing about how hot I am, though."

Akira lowers his hands, pouting petulantly. "I tell you that all the time."

"You should remind me more often."

"Oh?" Some familiar impishness sparks in Akira's gaze. "So you like when I praise you?"

"Your memories must still be hazy because that's not a secret."

"Please don't do this," Makoto begs.

Laughing, Akira ignores her and makes grabby hands at Goro. Smirking, Goro sets his clipboard aside and leans forward, allowing Akira to pull him into a kiss.

It's just as sweet as always.

[smallblip]

Don’t drink the kool-aid

Levihan | rated for mentions of sex

It’s on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/29942904

“Levi... Think of a number between one and ten-“

Hanji says, her breathing is a little ragged, but she’s looking at him excitedly, like there’s something shiny that he has to offer and she’s taking the bait, biting down. Whatever it is, he knows she isn’t going to let go. But he wishes she would-

“Really Hanji? You wanna fucking do this now?” Levi says, he looks down to where their bodies are connected. She laughs and wriggles above him, “just answer the question!”

Levi regrets letting her take control of the situation. Regrets letting her flip them over so she’s on top, promising to ride him until he’s spent and her thighs are burning.

Because right now she’s really not delivering on that promise.

Levi nods, letting her know he’s playing her little game.

She wraps an arm around her chest, another hand coming to stroke her chin. Levi sighs. He shifts uncomfortably under her.

“Seven!” She announces, like whatever shiny incentive there is is within grasp.

“No. Four...” Levi replies, watching as Hanji slumps against his chest. He can’t see her face from where it’s buried against his neck, but he knows she’s pouting.

“Idiot...”

This is how you love in this world. First you toss out the word love. You tell it to its face that Commander Erwin Smith says “love is the ultimate cult of men... A sect... A dirty ploy by the whatever god is up there to make us all vulnerable..." Erwin spits the last word in disgust. "Is that what you want? To be sheeple?”

They are having one too many drinks at the pub and Hanji is laughing her head off at whatever subconscious train of thought streams out of Erwin’s mouth. Love isn't the only thing that can render a man vulnerable. She thinks alcohol is far more practical, and yet, Erwin doesn't seem to have any complaints about it.

Levi shoots Hanji a look, a little tired, yet a little amused despite his frowning- want me to knock him out?

She shakes her head- no, this is fun!

Erwin catches them making eyes at one another and he points from Levi to Hanji, then back to Levi again. “Don’t you dare fall in love... Both of you... You’re too good for that...” Erwin says before taking another swig of whisky. Except it’s a little late in the night and Levi has already swapped it for water. Hanji wonders how long it would take for him to notice.

But it’s a little late and the alcohol settles as a blush on the bridge of Hanji’s nose, and Levi is staring at her now, a little too tender for comfort.

Hanji averts her gaze, this is far too much to deal with now. So she turns her attention back to Erwin instead, chuckling, she says “you must be fun at parties...”

Erwin wakes up the next morning with a colossal headache. “What did I say last night?” He groans at a meeting that’s really just everyone staring at one another with bloodshot eyes.

“Nothing out of the ordinary...” Hanji says, chipper through her hangover. But Erwin catches her and Levi sniggering to one another later. He wonders what the joke is.

But that’s how you talk about love in this world- you don’t. Instead, you replace it with the feeling of bandages wrapped taut over torn skin and broken bones.

“Gentle, Levi... These bones cannot take more breaking... I did the math...” Hanji is wincing and already she’s withdrawing from his touch. He chides her. If she stays still this would all go by much more painlessly. "Stay still or I’ll break your legs too..." he says, but the menace disappears behind deep concentration.

“Thank you...” she says when he’s testing the integrity of her bandages, and his heart misses a beat.

Strange how broken bones can heal themselves in time. But the dull throbbing in his heart and the wrenching in his gut don’t go away. Maybe it just means nothing’s broken. Maybe this is the feeling of life itself. Of the universe telling him hey... You're not done for yet... You've still got a lot of living to do...

After all, this is how you love in this world. First you look romance in the eye and tell it to take a walk. Tell it that it has no business in these parts of town.

Some days Levi is bestowed with the blessing of self-awareness, enough to know he has the romantic capacity of a child with a playground crush.

He kicks her under the table during a meeting, you idiot I told you this was a bad idea, he glares her down, hoping she would somehow read his mind. And somehow, whether by some sort of hallowed bond between them or sheer dumb luck, she does.

She narrows her eyes at him-

watch me.

He pulls her back by her cape, "don’t go charging into danger you idiot!" And he wants to let the sentence run on, you have to be safe, to live a long life, prove the gods wrong, but he doesn’t. Instead he purses his lips and his hand drops from her cape to her arm.

She narrows her eyes, lips pursed. Hanji has always had a rebellious streak and an untamable spirit, and it shows in the way she juts her chin out at him-

watch me.

So Levi learns to love in other ways.

He squeezes her hand before battle, like a silent prayer for deliverance. And she squeezes back, fingers lacing with his, eyes bright with determination- a promise to make it back home.

He drapes his cape around her when she falls asleep at her desk, fingers tracing the lines between her brows, and she relaxes. She dreams of fresh laundry and a small, clean cottage that smells like him. And she learns that love can be kind.

Love is tender, love is kind, love is Hanji’s fingers circling his wrist, her hand on his cheek, her arm around his shoulder. Love is her touches that ghost his forehead, down his nose- little gossamer touches; like butterflies. Like she’s trying to remember every detail before it’s too late. But it’s still early and they still have relatively long lives to lead. Whatever it is “long” means in this world.

“This is easy...” she says, ambiguous.

“What is?” he asks.

“This,” she says again, pressing a kiss to his cheek when they’re sitting in the trees, recovering from battle.

And Levi thinks it’s funny how things turned out. Neat freak, disciplined soldier, fussy little runt from the underground, trailing after a person with a penchant for the macabre and little capacity for decorum. Like two opposite poles of a magnet, pulled together by forces unknown.

He remembers joining the Corps and meeting Hanji Zoë, and thinking he doesn’t want anything to do with her. But somehow along the way she has crawled under his skin, sinking into the chambers of his heart, made a home out of him.

They’re lined up on their horses behind the gates, and Erwin is saying something about freedom, about the cause, about fighting and spirit and bravery. Hanji turns to him in the middle of it all, and Levi braces himself. What's it going to be this time? A joke about sheeple? A comment about the flowers beyond the walls?

“Levi, think of a number between one and ten!” She says, and his instinctive reaction is to roll his eyes. But he nods anyway, crease between his brows relaxing when he watches her smile.

“Five!”

“Three...”

“No way!” She kicks herself. She had been so sure she’d get it right. After all, in the years that have gone by they learn to trust one another, lean on one another. She translates his words with clarity and he tells her how she’s really feeling past her burying herself in work. No matter. The gates are opening and Levi watches her eyes light up in wonder. She looks at him one last time before they ride beyond the gates, and Levi knows what that look means-

this is my favourite part.

He smiles back at her-

mine too.

And Levi thinks he had spoken too soon about not wanting anything to do with Hanji Zoë. Because now he looks for her in the battlefield, he needs to know she’s alright. And every single goddamn time, he finds her looking for him too. And it hits him like a brick, because this is how you love in this world. Levi stares love down from across the room, pocket knife drawn by his side, he tells it to go fuck itself. But the thing about love- it has always had a rebellious streak, and an untamable spirit. It makes its way under your skin and builds a little home for itself nestled within arteries, heartstrings, and skin upon skin upon skin-

First, comes the tentative touches. Like a deer peeking past the trees in the forest. Hanji laughs too much, and it makes his heart beat out of his chest, but it also throws him off. “Stop laughing!” He snarls, but that only makes her laugh harder.

“Don’t look so scared Levi...” she says.

Levi scoffs. He wants to tell her he isn’t scared. But there’s never a point in lying to Hanji. The fact that they’re so transparent to one another proves inconvenient at junctures like these. He tries to think of something else- anything else. But it shows on his face, and she’s giggling again.

It shouldn’t be this difficult. He’s too old for this degree of imprecision. It shouldn’t be difficult at all- first you undress your partner, then yourself, and then everything will fall into place.

Now they’re both stark naked, and Levi can see the goosebumps rising on her skin. He knows he’s supposed to do more than stare at her face. But-

Her hand finds his and she presses their palms together, fingers intertwined, we’re okay. You ready?

And that’s how they love in this world. That’s their signal- palm against palm, fingers laced, a little squeeze- ready? Go! There’s no turning back now.

Sometimes it’s the feeling of fingers digging so deep they bruise, of hair-pulling, of teeth scraping against flesh- a reminder that affection and pain are lovers.

In these times, kisses taste like blood. It’s unclear whose blood it is- only that they all taste the same at the end of the day- like rust and iron and the earth. And Levi doesn’t want to dwell on the details lest it distracts from the way her hands slide under his shirt, the way she guides them to the bed. He wants to comment on how the sheets are ruined beyond salvation, but Hanji doesn’t let him. Oh well. It’s nothing a little soap and a hot iron can’t solve.

Her hands seek his out, and she places them on her neck. I want it harder, every time, that means I want it harder. And Levi gives.

Next comes a reckoning that's something short of divine.

“When are we going to admit we love each other and move on?” Levi asks after, hands stilling on Hanji’s sides, just below her chest.

Don’t stop... she guides his fingers to stroke her skin again, and he does, tracing each bump and raise, each a testimony to survival, feeling the rise and fall of her ribs.

“That would be too easy now wouldn’t it?” She grins sleepily at him.

And love is anything but easy in this world, so why should it make an exception for them?

“My mother once told me to really reel a man in, you gotta slip through his fingers, let him give chase a little...” Hanji chuckles, eyebrows wagging.

Levi scoffs.

“An old geezer at the pub once told me if you know how to give a woman an orgasm, she’s yours forever...” And Levi almost regrets saying this. He doesn’t know why he says most of anything he says. But the words come easy, sloppily when he’s with Hanji. And Hanji never seems to mind, armed with a repository of equally horrific things to say.

“I mean... He’s not wrong...” she shrugs, and Levi thinks maybe this is as good a declaration of love as he’s going to get. He wonders if he’d be alright with this if they weren’t poking a stick at death all the time. Then again, he has fallen in love with a person born with a stick in her hands. So maybe it comes as a package deal.

Levi scowls at her and pinches her nose, “disgusting...”

But she does slip through his fingers a little, returning to him an eye short, a new title gained, and a fog in her lungs that makes it hard to breathe. Levi feels a dull ache in his heart that doesn't go away. This time he's certain that something's broken.

He kicks a chair towards her and sits her down, "you have to rest you idiot. You barely eat, you haven’t slept."

She narrows her eyes at him, “there’s no time, Levi... There are things I have to do...”

Already she’s getting up, but Levi grabs her arm and glowers at her wordlessly, one day you’re going to drop dead and we’ll all have a dead fucking commander on top of every other fucking inconvenience we’ve been dealt.

And Hanji shoots him a look. The one that says watch me do everything you told me not to do. But her expression softens when she sees the anxiety in his eyes. Because she recognises the look on his face- she had worn the same concern when she had found him after Isabelle and Farlan passed. The same look every time they return from beyond the walls. And she regrets pushing him away. She hates it with every fibre of her being. So she squeezes his hand before she leaves, I’ll be alright...

He squeezes back.

And that’s how you love in this world. You take whatever instinct there is to keep your lover from danger, to drag her kicking and screaming from the frontlines. To tell her to stop being petulant and sit this one out. Instead, all Levi manages is a- “don’t you dare go running off playing hero again Hanji! You hear me? Don’t you fucking dare,” when they’re alone again in her quarters, two naked bodies lying by candlelight.

And she grins at him, the nerve, the audacity. She actually grins at him.

“Hey Levi, think of a number between one and ten...” she says, and he really doesn’t want her to change the topic. He wants her to promise him. To swear on everything good that’s left in this world that she’ll be safe. But it’s also too late to pretend he isn’t going to play along.

“Ten?” She guesses.

“Five...” he smiles.

Hanji smiles back, “still got it!”

And he kisses her like it's the first time. He always kisses her like it's the first time. Soft, lingering, like a drizzle in the middle of Summer, like raindrops clinging to skin. She smiles at him when they pull apart-

this is my favourite part.

He smiles back at her-

mine too.

↭

And Hanji thinks it's truly ridiculous. It's a scandal really. Erwin was right. This is mind-control of the highest and most elegant order. Whatever this feeling is, it has possessed her to build an alter from stick and stone and stitches over torn skin.

A little commune for two in the forest.

Levi’s hand is in hers, but she faces away from him. She doesn’t want to see him like this. Not when it manifests an ache in her heart that she doesn't quite know how to nurse. How will they recover from this?

“When are we going to admit we love each other and move on?” Hanji asks absentmindedly. She thinks it’s alright to bend the rules of this world a little. It's okay to talk about love, to give a name to the horror that plagues them. Because whatever conspiracy this whole love business is pedaling, she thinks it’s pretty goddamn convincing, and they might as well admit it.

But they’ve gone so long without having to use words, and Levi doesn’t want to jinx it-

“That would be too easy now wouldn’t it?”

And this is how you love in this world, romance comes in unexpected forms. It's been so long since they've been alone like this. And Hanji dreams of fresh laundry and a small, clean cottage that smells like him. She hopes to god Levi sees it too- and he does. He sees it every time he looks at her. But he settles for the next best option. He takes whatever words left unsaid and hoards them into a stockpile of recurring motifs that are proxy for affection-

"Four eyes... I'm thinking of a number between one and ten..." Levi manages through the pain, and he knows it's all worth it because he gets to watch that smile spread across her face.

"Two?" She says, only a little above a whisper.

"One... You're getting closer..." He says, like a prophecy, because immediately, she closes the gap between them and presses a kiss to his forehead, then to the corner of his lips. She lays down next to him and he musters all the strength in the world to push a stray strand of hair from her face. Like the lifting of a veil-

this is my favourite part.

She smiles back at him-

mine too.

↭

Wall Maria has been breached. The day is breaking and soon everything will spiral out of hand. But for now, it’s still dusk and the sun has barely made its way past the horizon. There’s something so rare and sacred about this moment that it feels surreal.

Levi can’t remember the first part of the conversation. They must have been talking about something stupid. They always are. But the next part falls into place so beautifully that it has to be premeditated somehow. Maybe Erwin was right. This is all some sort of grand scheme, a cult of wonder.

“Don’t tell me you’re in love with me, four eyes...”

“What a ridiculous notion...” Hanji replies with a scoff and a little chuckle. Because this is how you love in this world. You look love in the face and think, oh god no, really? Of all the people in this world, him? But love is tender, love is kind, love is Levi holding onto the belt around her waist as she tip-toes across a short ledge so she doesn’t fall.

“Me? In love with you?” She continues, throwing her head back to laugh. Her arms are out, she’s getting pretty good at keeping balance. But Levi’s hand is still there regardless.

Levi clicks his tongue, “idiot...”

It’s good that they don’t speak of love. After all, this is as far as love goes in this world- the swell in Levi’s chest and all the words left unsaid, translated into a curated repertoire of looks and touches. A hand on the small of her back means I’ve got you.

And god is it inconvenient to love in a world like theirs. It’ll inevitably end in heartbreak, and Levi doesn’t enjoy being a cliché in a tragedy. He hears Erwin’s voice echoing in his head, “don’t fall in love... Just don’t...”

But he looks at Hanji, his lips curve into a smile when she looks back at him grinning. It’s just a moment, but Levi recognises the look, and Hanji sees it too in the glint of his eyes.

Her hand in his says we’re in this together, a squeeze says it’ll all be alright. And a look of determination tells the rest of the world to take a walk.

In this world, they tell you not to fall in love. It's a recipe for disaster. Like cyanide in a Styrofoam cup.

But Hanji kisses him, and she looks at him like he has something shiny to offer, like he’s slipping it into her pockets. There’s a look in her eyes and Levi knows exactly what it means-

watch me.

[olivinesea]

In the Golden Dark

a/n: Having never done any ship writing before I’m just going to jump feet first into the deep end with a little Hotchreid for you today. It’s nice. No warnings except maybe some angst because we are who we are. Probably the softest thing you will see from me so enjoy the moment. Completely unnecessary disclaimer that I would find this relationship wildly inappropriate in real life but thank god we’re out here in the lawless fiction of the internet. And you’re getting full on song lyrics bc Hotchreid is nothing if not decadent af. There’s more but I’m impatient so here’s the first bit. ~ 2.7k

what the hell am I doing here in the golden dark? feeling like I’m someone else who looks the part I built up barricades to block my heart cause I don’t wanna fear you

He leaned back in his chair, reaching his arms up and clasping his hands behind his head, arching his back slightly. With his eyes closed it could be any time of day. He inhaled deeply and pretended for a moment that he was nowhere. He even gave himself a few extra seconds, indulging in the quiet that was the office at night. If only he could feel so peaceful in the right moments—before sleeping perhaps. When he opened his eyes all he could see was the reflection of his office light in the black windows. There hadn’t been daylight for hours. He’d switched off the overhead lights in favor of the small desk lamp that pooled the light only in the area of immediate relevance. Everything beyond its reach faded in and out of existence as his focus fell deeply into the forms in front of him.

He pressed his elbows back as far as they would go, pulling up slightly on the base of his skull, stretching out a day’s worth of stress, countless hours spent bent over report after report. He never could have imagined that saving people would require so much paperwork. Reducing the chaos of the lived experience, the searches and the takedowns, the intricate patterns of dozens of personalities layering choices upon one another; it turned out to be quite difficult to do. It took him hours to wrap up cases, even with everyone doing most of their own reports. Which, through no fault of their own, wasn’t always the case. He usually ended up siphoning off a fair number of those reports in addition to his own.

He didn’t mind, he needed to go over everything, needed to make sure that any possible negative feedback that came back would fall to him and he would be prepared if it did. His team were his responsibility, he would be neglecting his duties if he didn’t ensure that things were handled properly. None of them needed the headache of administrative errors. He was good with details, good with forms, good with protocol. He would happily be the filter that saved them all the trouble of little errors even if it hadn’t been part of his job.

But that didn’t change the fact that it was eleven o’clock on a Wednesday and everyone else had gone home hours ago. Only the late night janitorial staff wandered in and out occasionally, nodding at him in silent greeting as they reset the offices to give the illusion of an endlessly renewable supply of fresh starts. People that didn’t stay late never gave this transformation a second thought. They left the office with full trashcans and small debris scattered on the old carpets, only to return the next morning to find a place untouched by human presence, metal fixtures shining and glass doors free of oily fingerprints. That was just how the world worked for them, generous with new beginnings. People who lingered knew better, that effort was put into the effect. Beginnings were never easy, never flowed so inevitably as the set and rise of the sun.

Hotch had been working late for many years, long before he was even in the BAU. He had learned in law school how to brew the coffee strong enough to stay up all night if need be. How the indoor lighting changed without the support of daylight, tinting the world a thin sickly green color without the natural light to round out the fluorescence. He only got worse about it once he joined the Bureau, the stress of the job causing old habits and old secrets to float to the surface. He compensated by working the hardest, doing the most, never allowing anyone to see him need things that other people needed. He could handle this job, this was all he ever wanted after all. To save the world. Or maybe, more modestly, to save the world of a few.

Now, with Haley gone, Jack with her, somewhere well out of his disastrous reach, there was no reason at all not to fully give in. No reason not to let his insomnia at least be productive. To let the latent self destruction that fueled his actions at least have a positive impact on the people he cared about. He could do that at least.

He rubbed his face with his hands, he was getting loopy. There was no reason to be letting his mind wander so far, there were still reports he could get through. Perhaps, as unlikely as the idea felt, he could even get ahead. He looked back down at the paperwork, letting his feet settle flat on the floor. The letters swam in front of him and he sighed, rolling his pen beneath his thumb, considering. He could probably make it another hour. He could get another pot of coffee into himself. He cast about for his mug, finding it empty on the shelf behind him. He sometimes kept it there to prevent his reports from acquiring telltale dark rings. Rolling back from the desk, he hooked the handle with two fingers and headed out to the kitchenette.

Wrapped up in making plans for what he could finish tonight and what could be left for the morning he was startled to find a light still on in the bullpen. He was certain everyone had gone home long ago. They’d each passed by his office, offering him an out as they made their ways home—perhaps their exit could be the motivation he needed to break out of his office, to head towards his own home. What they didn’t realize was that home was not better for him. Work was far better, far safer, with tasks to complete, a purpose. If he was smart he would stay at work forever.

So he waved to them as they checked out, giving them small smiles that, though imperceptible to strangers, they recognized as both apologies and well-wishes. He knew they worried, that they didn’t like to see him tied to his desk late into the night. They thought it was one of his many methods for making himself suffer but he didn’t have the heart to tell them that this was him making a good decision, this was him trying his very best. In his experience, nothing good happened at home.

He thought he remembered everyone leaving, each goodbye. But every day was the same and they all bled together so he must have missed one because he cannot deny the light down below. As he walked down the stairs, confused by the discovery that he was not as alone as he had been imagining, his tired vision focused better. He could make out dark blond curls and a darker sweater hunched over the desk in the middle of the room.

“Reid?” The name came out as a croak, he hadn’t spoken in hours and probably hadn’t had any water in that time period either. He cleared his throat and said it again, louder and closer to the other man than before. Reid’s head snapped up, expression as guilty as a child caught out of bed.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered, eyes wide.

Hotch frowned, not because he was upset but because he was still a little disoriented and his muscles fell back into the most familiar actions.

“I—“ Reid ducked his head and started pushing papers together on his desk, shoving them haphazardly into a file folder. “I was just…” he trailed off, not really having intended on explaining himself. He was simply also startled and reverting to the familiar.

Reid explained compulsively, able to handle the world when parsed down to facts and numbers. He didn’t have a fact for why he had stayed so late, only a feeling and that he didn’t know how to explain. Nights had been particularly lonely recently so he had allowed himself to stay later and later, getting lost in his thoughts at his work desk. Even without people around there was a sense of occupancy, their faint impressions lingering in the air. Plus there was always Hotch up in his office. He didn’t actively think about him or what he was doing but he liked knowing the man was nearby. Hotch’s solid presence always made him feel more secure, less concerned with whatever might jump out at him from the shadows overlapping the world and his mind.

He couldn’t tell Hotch that, was far too embarrassed to admit that sometimes, even with all the lights on, it was too dark in his apartment. No matter the illumination, he couldn’t quite dispel the unease of the night when he was alone. It wasn’t always like this, sometimes he had enough brightness to spare. Recently, however, things had been hard. So much had been going on, he couldn’t quite pinpoint why but he knew he felt uneasy. Too much had changed, there was too much risk that the floor could still fall out beneath him at any moment. And it hadn’t been so long since he’d escaped the consequences of his kidnapping, his addiction, that he trusted himself to be able to manage too much more uncertainty. Backsliding was always a risk and right now the world tilted at a frightening grade. So he let himself stay late in the safety of familiarity, sometimes working but more often not, idly rereading the books he had brought in and forgotten around the office. Tonight he had actually started to doze off, which contributed to his shock upon being discovered.

Hotch continued to frown at him, watching as the thoughts raced across Spencer’s face. He noticed how deep the shadows were beneath his eyes, the way darkness pooled in the space below his cheekbones, as if they were concave impressions filled by seawater. He knew Spencer didn’t eat enough, was all too familiar with the ways too much coffee and not enough calories pinched the skin and exposed the fine lines of capillaries beneath the surface.

“Sorry,” Spencer repeated.

He looked genuinely ashamed and it made Hotch a little sad. Couldn’t Spencer see that he was just as guilty of whatever it was he thought he was doing wrong by being here? He made a conscious effort to soften his expression, to show the warmth he felt for the younger man. After having spent his entire life masking his emotions, protecting himself one of the only ways he could, it wasn’t always easy to show his affection. Especially not at this time of night, when all he could do was cling to his walls and hope to find himself still on solid ground when the sun rose. Spencer wasn’t looking at him, too caught up in his own maze.

“Let’s go get something to eat,” Hotch said, trying a different tactic. He was smart, he knew not to make it a demand or a comment on Spencer’s health. It was only an invitation, firm enough for Spencer to know he meant it, that it was not just a pleasantry or an obligation he’d rather avoid. A hand extended, an offer of easy company to pass through a little more of this unwanted time. Spencer looked up from where his fingers were worrying at the corner of the file in front of him and smiled shyly. Hotch smiled back, a real smile that scrunched up his dark shining eyes.

“Give me five minutes to close up,” he said and turned back toward his office. As he packed his briefcase, his heart felt like it had been wrapped in a soft blanket. He didn’t bother questioning it—who didn’t like finding someone to commiserate with when they’d only expected more of the lonely dark?

*

Their late night meals became a regular occurrence. Not every night but once, maybe twice a week, they found themselves the last ones in the office. They fell into a rhythm, each learning to read more from the other’s subtle cues. They almost always went to the same place, a 24-hour diner near the office with deceptively strong coffee and a seemingly endless variety of pancakes. Hotch rarely ordered food, though he encouraged Reid to get anything he wanted. He accepted bites of whatever the younger man ordered, happy enough to reciprocate the excitement over strawberry rhubarb or cinnamon blueberry pancakes.

They talked about inconsequential things, mostly Hotch listening as Reid spun out information on whatever topic was on his mind that day. Reid, for his part, made mental note of the things Hotch responded to and had opinions on. Spencer sought out more information in that vein to bring up. He loved to talk, sure, but what he loved more was to discuss. During the day there was rarely time to let his thoughts wander so freely. It was a dream to have someone there, following along and challenging him with questions, building up new conclusions.

On the nights that followed difficult days, when they were both too stubborn to order anything of substance, they drank their coffees and avoided looking at each other too directly. Those nights they were both tied up in their own thoughts, islands separated by more than just distance, but there was something undeniably pulling them together. It was probably just the natural consequence of having opposite dominant sides but they mirrored each other perfectly across the table. Once, they both happened to reach for their mugs at the same time and the backs of their hands brushed against each other. They each noticed but responded differently. Hotch repressed any reaction, pretending the quick touch of bony knuckles and cool skin hadn’t registered. Maybe it hadn’t. Reid, on the other hand, jumped as if shocked, sloshing the hot coffee into a puddle on the table. This only flustered him more and he yelped at the sting of the liquid and the sting of embarrassment. It wasn’t like they’d never touched before. But here, in this nowhere time they’d constructed, it felt different. In his mind that brief touch became nails dragging across his skin, impossible to ignore. But he pretended the mug was too hot and Hotch didn’t argue, quick to assist with napkins and sounds of agreement to accompany Spencer’s half-coherent excuses.

When their meals were done, mostly cleaned plates of syrup and crumbs stacked to one side, they hesitated before standing up. Hotch always offered to give Reid a ride home, Reid always declined, insisting he could get there himself. This led to Hotch giving him a doubtful look and insisting that it was no trouble. Reid, secretly wanting a ride the whole time, struggled to argue for his self-sufficiency a little longer before giving in. It became a silly thing, both of them knowing exactly how the argument ended but they held onto it for some reason. It was a part of their ritual now, an important piece of the night. It kept this, whatever this was, contained, strictly occasional, random even. Not something they planned for, not something they looked forward to.

Hotch waited for Spencer to get in the door of his building before driving away. He knew it wasn’t necessary, Spencer was a grown man and a trained FBI agent with a weapon. Still, it made him feel better to see him safely inside. Sometimes he thought he would feel even better if he could walk Spencer all the way to his front door. But he knew that would be asking too much. As it was, the nights when they shared this extra hour or two together, extended further by the drive home, had been giving him more than he could have imagined. He wouldn’t dare impose himself further. The brittle excuse of safety would crumble if he were to start following the other man inside. He was not ready to find out what that would mean. He smiled unconsciously as he drove to his apartment. For now, it was enough that he had found companionship on these late nights when he would otherwise be slowly, meticulously, working his way into the grave.

~Part 2~

[unpretty]

For the Director's Cut... chapter one of Unprofessional Behavior, Victoria's incredibly organized makeup, outfits, morning schedule, etc. It is delightful and I would love to hear about the thought process going into it. (I am both jealous and terrified of her organizational efficiency!)

i'm hoping once i'm done with astielle i can channel my hyperfocus into finally doing The Big Final Edit of unprofessional behavior and now that i'm a bitch with an office job i will be making some CHANGES so i guess this is a preview of that

the part with the push-ups is fine actually. she is living the dream of having enough room next to her bed to do shit. she never lets people into her house so she can probably keep her bed in the corner for plenty of non-bed space. transitioning from asleep to awake is such a fucking ordeal and if i had room to just keep an elliptical or something right there i'd use it. i probably wouldn't do push-ups if only because core strength exercises make me nauseous. a lot of things make me nauseous. victoria doesn't have my intestinal issues so she's fine. anyway this establishes first fucking thing that victoria is absolutely bugfuck and could probably knock your lights out.

the audiobook is all me because only doing one thing at a time is madness. i have to wear earbuds though because i have a partner. and i actually care about the content, unlike victoria, who could not give less of a fuck. she is deeply disinterested in depth. shallow shit only.

my experience with living alone is that it takes a long time to be so comfortable with it that you'll just straight-up walk naked through the whole house without bothering to put a robe on.

victoria's got good hair genes, which is more work but also looks fantastic. she is also established to do things that actually are not good for her hair, so absolutely none of this is about taking care of herself in earnest. looking good and taking care of yourself are different things.

the nails. okay. in my defense i did not used to keep my nails painted, and whenever i did i used gel polish because i liked knowing that once it was cured i couldn't smudge it. then when i was done it would all just peel off in a big sheet. it turns out gel polish isn't supposed to do that and some combo of my shitty fucking nails and the polish i was using made that happen. i used nothing but gel polish constantly for a year straight (you're not supposed to do this lol but it reinforced my nails enough that now they're almost normal) and i don't anymore because getting it all off takes so fucking long even when i'm only re-doing them on weekends. so like, i am probably going to change this up so she does her nails with regular-ass polish the night before and sets out her coordinating makeup in advance. she still has makeup cupboards though.

it turns out that whether or not i put my hair up is mostly determined by whether or not i think it will give me a headache because i'm a delicate fucking flower who used to cut all my hair off all the time. victoria does not have this problem. her scalp is battle-hardened.

victoria's willingness to do a contour every single morning before she leaves the house... i wake up a half hour before i have to leave and sometimes i skip makeup so i can snooze. sometimes there's a fake shadow under my cheekbones that makes me look like i contoured but that's actually just facial hair #lifehack

she should probably also set her clothes out in advance but so should i and i don't. because some mornings you wake up and you realize that setting out a fitted dress that's really pretty but isn't soft or stretchy was aspirational. texturally it's just not gonna happen. it's a soft knit top and a swishy skirt kind of a day and that's just how it is on this bitch of an earth. meanwhile other days you felt like shit the night before and planned accordingly but now you wanna look like a boss. mornings are too mercurial to predict. maybe i'll mention that in the edit, idk

i recently re-organized my half of the closet because i had previously organized my clothing By Vibe, which made it difficult for anyone except me to put my clothes away. now it goes top rack outerwear, swimwear, button-down blouses, pull-over blouses, long-sleeved sweaters, short-sleeved sweaters, vests, tank-tops, tees, workout shirts, fancy dresses, regular dresses, nightgowns, and lingerie, then bottom rack petticoats, skirts, shorts, trousers, jeans, leggings, workout leggings, sleepwear. i do not have enough clothes to justify organizing those by color or having work clothes separate from after hours. maybe if i had a whole-ass room to keep clothes in i could really go nuts with it. organizing shit according to rainbows is the ideal.

anyway all this is to continue establishing that victoria is absolutely bugfuck. she'll do anything for the #aesthetic. it's like a kind of labor intensive hedonism where she wants everything around her to look good and sound good and taste good. she'd rather deal with physical discomfort than deal with the psychological discomfort of looking in the mirror and thinking anything other than "goddamn i look good as hell". which is relatable because i wore a leather jacket in the desert for ten years. also she eats garbage including literal cake for breakfast because i'm sick of foodie fatties. like you've gotta be in the Food Fandom to make it cute that you're fat. she'll eat a storebought cake and then microwave some pizza rolls later. she wants things that are bad for her, and not in the fun decadent indulgent way that things are bad for you, in the gross way that makes people worry about you.

[soradragon]

I have a reauest if you have the time! Shinsou and Reader where Reader isn't scared of Shinsou's quirk and talks to him a lot and Shinsou is like "Nice person? Is this love?" (Tbh, I'd rather it end with just friends, but if you want romance then go for it) PS: Will you write for female characters if it isn't romantic?

Soup To Heal The Aches

~summary~

You were very odd in Shinso’s eyes. A transfer student who’s not even in his class keeps seeking him out to hang out. And you don’t seem to be afraid of him. After finding out you just want to be his friend, he has come to welcome your presence. Making his life brighter. Until one day you suddenly don’t show up.

~~

Thank you for your request my dear @kawayuni !! I absolutely loved writing this fic!! And yes! I’ll write for female characters if it’s platonic like friendship! I also write for characters without reader like for example a fic about baku squad hanging out at the beach for example!

This is a platonic x reader fic but you can also see it as romantical however you wanna see it! ^^

Anyway! Come chat with me about fun things or story ideas! my box and dms are always open for you guys!

Warnings; angst with a happy end!

Shinso x gender neutral reader (in what way is for you to decide!^^)

Check out my main masterlist if you liked what you read!

If you want to be tagged in the next upcomming fic don’be afraid to ask me!^^

Please leave a little comment or reblog to let me know you liked it! I greatly appreciate it!^^

Anyway, enjoy^^

~~~~

You were a mystery to him, an odd, peculiar student, you were so different from the rest, a big contrast to the other students.

Ever since you transferred to UA, you've been stuck to Shinso like glue, going to him with all your questions, sitting next to him in lunches etc. Which was quite strange since the two of you were not in the same class. You could have gone to any of your classmates, some even went up to you to offer their help. Yet you politely reclined most of them and went towards Shinso.

You weren't annoying him or crossing some boundaries of his - you've asked if what it was ok if you sat next to him or talked to him, he didn't mind - it just left him confused is all.

After all, you knew what he was capable of, knew that he could use his quirk on you any time he wanted. Yet still, you talked with him, running up to him when you found him admits the horde of students wandering through the hall only to chat and actually listen to his opinions. 

One day, he had asked you why you gravitated towards him when there are so many others you could be hanging out with.

Your response was quite unexpected: Your head had shot up from your lunch, staring at him as if he had just grown five separate heads.

"What..?" you had asked, thinking you hadn't heard him correctly Shinso repeated the question. After a moment of rapid blinking, you started to pout, frowning at your shoes you spoke, "is it so wrong that I just feel comfortable around you? You're nice and easy to talk to, can't that be enough reason to want to be your friend?"

Your words had surprised him, he had to admit. Your reasoning was simple and straightforward, leaving no room for doubt, it left him with a warm feeling. Not that cliche, warm, fluttery feeling characters out of a novel get when they fall in love. No, it didn't feel like that, it was the kind of warmth people get when they finally found someone who understands them, a friend who was trustworthy and wouldn't leave till the end of time. 

It was new... but a good kind of new. 

A couple of months passed, and he had started to accept the fact that you were his friend now. Hanging out most days when both of you were free. 

You sitting in the support class gave you more freedom then Shinso. Thus when he wasn't free because of the amounts of homework he had to do, you would come over to help him out, sitting on his bed while he sat at his desk, mulling over the questions. 

While your feet would dangle in a childlike enthusiasm, you gave him some good points and observations when Shinso was stuck, opening his eyes to different views he hadn't thought of before.

Shinso had become so accustomed of you being next to him that he couldn't think of a future without you by his side. Which is why he now was at such a loss. 

Normally, you would already sit at your usual table at lunch, waiting for him. But when Shinso arrived at the cafeteria, he couldn't find your excited self waving at him. He checked his phone; no messages from you.

...Odd...

Shinso had pushed it to the side though, thinking you were held up by your lecture and you couldn't message him because of reasons. That had to be it.

He convinced himself that it was nothing and took a seat at your usual table, deciding switch things up and wait for you instead.

Surely you would arrive shortly.

You didn't come...

Shinso was more than confused, a bit hurt even.

Why didn't you show up? Did he do something wrong? Didn't you want to be friends anymore?

His thoughts went immediately to the worst, frowning he pushed down. That couldn't be... Surely there was an explanation.

Slight dread pooled inside his stomach, yet he pushed on. Convincing himself you were just busy a-and forgot to tell him, yeah, that got to be it.

Shinsou ruffled his hair to shake him from his doubts.

A thing you used to do when you knew Shinso was getting stressed, doing it himself didn't soothe him like when you did it. It just felt empty.

Shinso shook his head, deciding to wait and see. You would probably meet him when school ends for your daily hangouts, apologizing a hundred times for missing lunch together.

Shinso smirked, thinking about how he could tease you for making him concerned wait.

But when the time came, you weren't there. 

Now worry really started to set in. 

Did he scare you off? Surely he didn't, you firmly told him you didn't mind him and his quirk.

Did he anger you in some way? That couldn't be it either, you were not one to avoid someone after a conflict, trying to resolve it instead.

So many thoughts flooded inside Shinso's mind, each one he had a counter for except one...

You didn't care for him anymore, you didn't want to be friends anymore...

That set his mind in a destructive path, all kind of emotions swirled inside of him, he wanted to cry, panic, scream, find you, run away, so many he couldn't keep up. 

It hurt.

His chest ached, his brain stopped working, it was just a blank space except for a couple words:

It was his fault.

He didn't notice it, but he had slumped down on a bench, staring at nothing while gripping his head. 

Where did he go wrong? Everywhere, of course, why else would you leave. He was broken, awkward and unsocial. You must have gotten sick of his angst, must have gotten sick of his quiet self. Stupid, of course, you left. You deserved friends so much better then he could ever be.

A sudden tap on Shinso's shoulder woke him up, he shot his head up only one word stumbling out of his mouth in the sudden awakening from his trance.

"Huh...?"

It was a student, one he didn't recognize though.

They panted while trying to form words.

"A-are you...called...Shinsu...?"

Shinso stared at the student for a moment, not fully grasping the situation before nodding slightly. The slip up of his name going unnoticed to Shinso.

The student let out a sigh of relief, "thank god, you have no idea how hard it is to find you, I've been searching for you the entire day."

He said after catching his breath, grinning victoriously to himself like he just won the lottery.

"Y/N told me you wouldn't be hard to miss, boy were they wrong! Doesn't matter, now I'll get free food for a week!"

The boy laughed to himself, but Shinso didn't pay him any attention, your name echoed inside his head.

"Y/N..?"

Shinso asked hesitantly, looking up slightly unsure. 

The boy nodded vigorously, "yes! They asked me to find you and tell you They couldn't meet up today since they're sick! Aaand... their phone fell in the toilet...That phone still smells like the fish from last night..."

"Sick...?"

"Yeah, there was something wrong in Y/N's food."

"Where are they now?"

"In bed at the campus, dude - hey, where are you going?"

The boy called out with confusion laced in his voice as Shinso rushed towards the dorm without giving the boy a thank you.

His mind was somewhere else, concerned thoughts of you circled around his mind he had to go to you and see if you were ok.

*(*)*(*)*

You were rudely awakened from your sleep by a soft knock on the door. You groaned as you rubbed your heavy eyes, "mgnnn...come in..."

The door was slammed open not a second later - which was not good for your searing headache - a worried Shinso barged in afterwards. 

At least he had the mind to close the door softly before rushing to your side.

"Hey Y/N..." 

Shinso mumbled softly, brushing some damp hair out of your face.

You squinted up at him, he had a soft smile on his face and a paper bag in his other hand. 

"...Why do you look like you've run a marathon...?"

You slurred out weakly, making Shinso laugh, "well, I kinda did," he said, gesturing to the bag in his hand. "Had to get some necessary items to help fix you up. Want some soup?"

Your eyes slightly widened as you watched Shinso turn around towards your little kitchen. (It wasn't really a kitchen, it only had a sink, a small refrigerator and a microwave) 

"You don't have to do that...Don't you have homework to worry about...?"

You tried to call out to him, but your voice was too hoarse to make much sound. Luckily he heard you, turning his head to look over his shoulder. Shinso smirked, bringing a finger to his lips, "don't strain your voice Y/N, you should be resting."

Oh, he could be such a jerk sometimes.

"Don't give me that look Y/N, I came as fast as I could when I heard you were sick."

You frowned. "Didn't Taka tell you not to worry...?"

"Heh, he probably did, but I hurried here when he said the words 'sick' and 'you'. It was all I needed."

Shinso chuckled to himself as he put the canned soup in the microwave. Leaning against the counter to watch you. 

"And I'm not going until the fever breaks," he said before smirking. "Or when the teachers finally manage to drag me out of your room." 

You groaned, burying yourself deeper into the blankets, the only reasonable thing in this room apparently.

Shinso snorted at your antics before grabbing a bowl out of the cupboard when the microwave started to beep. He carefully grabbed the can out of the microwave, remembering all the times he burned his fingers because he wasn't careful enough. 

It was too many times for his taste. (You love to tease him about it every now and again.) 

Shinso moderately poured - to avoid spilling the hot substance onto the counter - the soup into the bowl, adding a spoon soon after. 

Shinso smiled at his creation, satisfied with his cooking skills he brought it to you. 

"Wakey, wakey sleepyhead. Got some food."

Shinso said, poking you softly to help wake you up. You groaned in response, sitting up you looked at him with a dazed expression and coloured cheeks.

"Huh...? Waa...?" You mumbled, Shinso snorted at your coherent speech.

"Got food," he said, holding up the bowl as proof. "Can you eat yourself, or do I need to feed you?" 

You glared at him, wishing you had enough strength to slap that smirk off his face. But alas, the revenge plan would need to come later. 

"...Could you be anymore blunt..." You mumbled under your breath, glaring at the bowl of soup in Shinso's hand.

The man in question just sniggered, offering you the bowl as he spoke, "well, not to fret, you've still got your snark." Your glare had become even fiercer. "That's some good news at the very least."

"...Go to the moon..." You replied after taking a spoonful of soup.

Shinso's smirk got even wider, "I would love to for you Y/N, but first I'm going to take care of you. Maybe try that request again later."

You grumbled under your breath as you continued eating, refusing to look at him. Your blanket was far more interesting than his stupid teasing smirk.

Shinso grabbed a stool to sit next to you, watching as you ate the soup in your hands, continuing to ignore him.

Shinso's smirk turned soft as he watched you. 

It felt good, the teasing and comfortable atmosphere hanging around the two of you, he wouldn't have it any other way. 

It just felt right. 

The dynamic you both have is something Shinso treasures dearly, a friend like you will only appear once in a lifetime. He's glad he's found you, his world has become a lot brighter thanks to your presence.

You looked up from your bowl, which startled Shinso out of his trance. He tilted his head when you glanced towards him with a calculating expression.

"Hm?"

You smiled, "...oh, it's nothing...I was just thinking..."

"Thinking?"

"...Yeah...I think I'm just very grateful you came instead of going to your own dorm...I think...I would've been a bit lonely without you here, so...Thank you for not listening to my advice..."

Shinso's eyes widened considerably, gawking at your smile. Although you looked sick, Shinso thought your smile was radiant. 

Yeah, Shinso felt like the luckiest person in the world.

~~~~

Thank you for reading! And keep soaring high!^^

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