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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 6 months

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Clownfall: Endgame

I am calling it that in the full knowledge that batshit things may yet happen, but listen. Listen. We have a year left before the general election. I am hedging my bets and assuming all that comes in that year will be Tory manoeuvring ahead of that. Let's all hope for a nice quiet year in which everything can fall neatly under that banner, that won't ruin this naming convention.

Previous Reading

Important Terminology - Required Reading

What is a Whip?

How do Whips work?

Shadow Cabinet

Front Benchers, Back Benchers and the Cabinet

What do we need to call an early General Election?

The Adventures of Big Dog the Clown - Suggested Reading

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Elanor’s Guide to Liz Truss - Suggested Reading

Character-based prequel

The Premiership of Liz Truss

The Next Steps - Suggested Reading

The post-Truss contenders

Bye Matt

BoJo Resigns as MP

Alright, that's probably everything. Just nice to have it all in one place, innit? If you would like a nice soothing soundtrack to your reading, here's my recommendation. On with the show!

Clownfall: Endgame

Wednesday

So, let's start with charismatic and charming Home Secretary Suella Braverman! You may remember her from such hits as "Quitting before she could be fired after breaking the law only to be rehired by Sunak almost immediately and without consequence to appease the right wing nutjobs in the party", and "Claiming Pakistani men have a culture that makes them work in abuse rings to target vulnerable white English girls" (I should add that, if you are unfamiliar with Suella Braverman, regardless of what that quote implies, she is not, in fact, white); recently she made the news because she announced that being homeless is a "lifestyle choice". So true, Suella! They could give it up any time they wanted. They could, for example, get together and break in and steal your fucking house.

But in particular, here we're focussing on her recent stance towards the multiple huge pro-Palestine marches that have been taking place in London. So far she has indicated that she wants people who wave Palestinian flags to be arrested, so that's very measured and rational of her; but, last Wednesday (Nov 8th), she decided to write a lil opinion piece in the Times all about how mean and biased and liberal the police are. This is an absolutely fascinating assertion to I suspect literally anyone who has ever been involved with the police. But no! Quoth Suella, aggressive right-wing protesters are "rightly met with a stern response", while "pro-Palestinian mobs" are "largely ignored".

And, she claims, the march on Saturday isn’t simply a cry for help for Gaza, but an "assertion of primacy by certain groups - particularly Islamists - of the kind we are more used to seeing in Northern Ireland".

Imagine how well all that went down.

Thursday

You are underestimating how that went down, because it emerges that Suella deVille did not, in fact, get any form of validated sign-off or permission from Number 10 before squirting her ill-informed liquid horseshit all over the front desk of the Times news room, and that, Tumblrs, you'll be surprised to learn, is actually quite an important and compulsory part of criticising the police when you are the Home Secretary. Like, there is a Ministerial Code about this. It is very clear. It is in Article 8.2, Tumblrs. Thou Shalt Have Permission From Number 10 Before Making Media Interventions.

“The content was not agreed with Number 10,” a spokesperson for Prime Minister Rishi Sunak told reporters, referring to the prime minister’s Downing Street office. The ministerial code is clear that any ministerial media interventions need approval from No 10.

-AlJazeera

And the Tories are furious! The bloodbath forms quickly and loudly and the hounds start baying! Clown noses are flying everywhere! The factions are drawn! Because even now, there are Tories too stupid to understand that whether you agree with someone or not they still have to follow the rules! Also the other parties realise they can offer some actual opposition here, given that Suella has essentially dragged a barrel into the middle of the House of Commons dressed in a fish costume, handed around a set of loaded rifles, and then crawled inside to wait. The result is that the calls for her resignation are both deafening and pleasingly cross-party.

"(This is a) dangerous attempt to undermine respect for police", says Labour's shadow home secretary Yvette Cooper. "(It's) irresponsible," says London mayor Sadiq Khan. "The PM's weakness when it comes to standing up to Suella is the most shocking thing in all this," claims a senior Labour source.

They're wrong, of course. The most shocking thing is Liberal Democrat leader Sir Ed Davey realising he can actually appear in the paper if he plays this right and so surfaces to attempt some politics. "(Sunak) must finally act with integrity by sacking his out-of-control home secretary!" he declares, frightening many MPs who had forgotten he was even in the room with them.

Meanwhile, several Tories approach the BBC anonymously.

"The home secretary's awfulness is now a reflection on the prime minister. Keeping her in post is damaging him," says one. Another straight-up describes her as "unhinged". Another claims the comparison with Northern Ireland is "wholly offensive and ignorant", and really, all of this is permanently triggering that "Heartbreaking: the worst person you know just made a great point" reaction image.

Saturday

Hey, speaking of reaction images, look, Labour has a go:

Well. They tried.

BUT! Do you want to know the INTERESTING bit??!

Enter: Nadine Dorries! Mad shrieking pink harpy who spends her days maintaining a BoJo shrine in her bedroom! Always the most hinged of politicians, let's see what she has to say.

Former cabinet minister Nadine Dorries claimed Ms Braverman was trying to get sacked to give her a platform of martyrdom in service of the right-wing. "The competition is on now for who is going to be the leader of the opposition," Ms Dorries told the BBC.

???!??!?

PERTINENT POLITICAL OBSERVATION FROM DORRIES?!?!?? The most shocking part of this whole affair. Remember that time she yelled at a journalist during an interview about Boris Johnson's latest scandal when he asked her how Johnson was feeling about the whole thing and inadvertently implied they were having an affair when No One Asked? God, wonders never cease. She's even acknowledging the Tories can't win the next GE, look. I'd say this is growth, except I am 100% positive she's just being catty about BlowJo being fired again.

Anyway, the real Saturday issue: it's Armistice Day, and there's a pro-Palestine march planned.

Now, to give context, Armistice Day has a creepy level of patriotic state-worship attached to it in the UK. Some time in October everyone on telly suddenly starts wearing a poppy, and if you don't you get hanged, drawn and quartered by (a) the British press, and then (b) a baying mob outside your living room. You most be performatively sad. You must perform reverence and hero worship and say things like "Never again" all while whole-heartedly supporting current wars. You must talk about "our brave boys", and share the works of dead poets from the trenches, and then completely fail to absorb any of their lessons. If anyone tries to wear the white poppy to distance themselves from the current political appropriation while still commemorating the millions of conscripted casualties, you accuse them of being "woke" and pissing on the worthy dead of WW1. It's a whole thing, and politicians love using it as an excuse to point fingers and mock each other for being insufficiently patriotic if they wear the wrong tie to the ceremonies, or choose to walk with actual veterans rather than a head of the current army, or any number of other things. And then on November the 12th they'll order a drone strike or something.

So, off the bat, you can see how a pro-Palestine rally on the same day was likely to be seen as provocative to some.

"Some" included Sunak! He didn’t (publicly at least) ask the police to ban the protest, but did call on organisers to call it off, claiming the choice of date was “provocative and disrespectful”, because as I say, a march calling for the ceasefire of a genocide is super disrespectful to every sad dead poet in a trench who dreamed of a ceasefire so they could live, or something.

But the inevitable therefore happens, which is that far-right activists agree that it's disrespectful, and so decide to violently target the march to show their respect for the idea of peace on Armistice Day, or something.

Here's the planned route by the organisers:

Note, though, that the Armistice ceremony happens at the Cenotaph - visibly nowhere near the march. These two events actually wouldn't have overlapped, if it weren't for far-right protestors deliberately linking them to stop them being disrespectfully linked, or something.

And that's exactly what happened. From the Guardian:

Perhaps the most striking incident, though, was when far-right protesters charged past police who sought to hold them back from the Cenotaph. In this video, a man shouts “this is fucking our country” in celebration. Whereas the pro-Palestine march had been excluded from the area as a precaution, the far right was not; by overwhelming the police, they supposedly sought to defend the site from an enemy that simply wasn’t there.

(that's quite a good article of the whole thing, actually, I recommend giving it a read.)

Crucially to the clown show, though, several politicians and others accused Suella deVille of emboldening the far-right, which... well, several of the far-right protestors straight up said was the case on the day, so hard to disagree, really.

Rumours of a reshuffle in Whitehall circumnavigate the land so fast the truth gets sucked into a tornado and is declared MIA. Here's the thing! I've covered a few Cabinet reshuffles by now, Tumblrs, you know the drill. Reshuffles are always deniable until they actually happen – so if, say, a reshuffle was going to happen on Monday 13 November 2023, there’d be no need to publicise it in advance. That way, if things change and politics happen, you don't need to retract anything :)

Because, remember: reshuffles are always controversial. Yes, some people get demoted, and those people will often kick off, and some people who don't deserve it get promoted, and lots of people kick off. But the big thing is that a lot more people get overlooked for promotion.

His most ardent supporters would say that Rishi Sunak is a cautious man (if you'll allow me a moment to express my own view on the matter, Tumblrs, if you'll forgive this crumb of personal opinion amongst my otherwise impeccable journalling of greatest integrity, I once did a teambuilding task with my students where they had to build the best possible bridge out of uncooked spaghetti and pieces of marshmallow, and I personally would liken the structural integrity of his spine to the losing team's entry), and reshuffles will spread a lot of disappointment to Tory MPs who lose – or fail to gain – a cabinet position.

So, all in all... regardless of Suella's idiocy...

There's no guarantee of a reshuffle. Rumours are just that - whether they prove to be true or not remains to be seen.

Week Commencing Monday 13th November, 2023

New week, new challenges! And it's going to be a big week this week. On Wednesday (tomorrow, at time of writing), three big things are going to be announced, and these announcements will colour everything else this week:

One. The Supreme Court decide whether the government will be allowed to enact their plan to send some migrants claiming asylum in the UK to Rwanda, a signature Braverman plan that human rights campaigners (including many in Rwanda) have been trying to block for ages.

It’s a massive deal anyway – a flagship government idea that’s been bogged down in the court, and we’ll finally have an answer one way or another. For what it’s worth, the Tories aren’t confident about winning it, either. The optimists among them reckon it’s a 50/50 chance, the pessimists reckon it’s 70/30 against, so it's iffy at best.

But here's the thing!

Plenty of Tories have always disliked Suella. Others could handle the odd outburst she has, but can’t stomach the sheer number of them lately - the Lib Dem non-entity man was absolutely right that she is rapidly growing out of control and just does not know when to shut the entire fuck up.

Which means! If the Supreme Court allows the Rwanda plan, Braverman could become emboldened, like a far-right protest injuring police officers to defend the cenotaph from people who are nowhere near it and have no interest in it. Do we want an emboldened Braverman?? Well; no, obviously. I also don't want dysentery, or rotten meat, or a serial killer in my neighbourhood. But it's a question even Tories are asking themselves, which is notable.

Plus, even if the court allows it, there will still be months of planning, and lawyers might still prevent the plans in the long run... But psychologically, the issue is this: the government wants this win, but probably doesn’t benefit from Braverman feeling victorious.

Two. We’ll get inflation figures. The government promised to halve inflation, and it seems likely they’ve managed this. Expect them to massively celebrate this, to distract from the promises they haven’t kept e.g. waiting lists in England, competent governance, etc.

Three. Voting on a ceasefire in Israel seems likely for Wednesday. It’s the SNP’s idea, and it won’t affect government policy (they won’t support a ceasefire – they claim it’ll empower Hamas).

But it’s a big deal for Labour, even more so than the Tories. A Shadow minister has already resigned over the war. A bunch of frontbenchers want a ceasefire, but that isn’t Keir Starmer’s policy, a man who is calling for the colours of the Israel flag to be shown at sports matches to show that "we stand in solidarity with Israel", because you can really count on Starmer to fuck up everything he touches. So what do they do? Abstain? Claim they had a prior commitment?? We might see more resignations, basically. Big day for Starmer.

So! With all that in mind...

Monday

8.43am

Oh look. Timestamps are back. I wonder if that suggests anything?

Suella Braverman is sacked as Home Secretary.

But! Sunak is accused of waiting too long! Which he demonstrably did!

He should have made the decision after the illegal article that she shouldn't have written and triggered a far-right rally on fucking Armistice Day. Instead, remember that 'cautious' descriptor I talked about?? He waited until the tide had turned against her completely, and now looks like he (a) was too much of a useless wimp to fire her until he was sure people would still like him and pat his dick and tell him he's a Good PM, and (b) only fired her because he caved in to that appalling lefty liberal cabal that somehow these days includes the Metropolitan Police of all fucking people, and she'd have been able to stay otherwise.

Shout out to the best comment from Reddit:

u/nowonmai666: Doesn't she normally get sacked on a Friday so she can have the weekend off before being reappointed?

Anyway, that's the big risk now: Braverman’s supporters can claim she was only fired because Sunak caved in to the left.

8.56am

Tory MP Andrea Jenkyns claims Sunak only sacked Braverman because he caved in to the left.

9.00am

Neil O'Brian, Pharmacy Minister, quits to live out his stated dream of being a back-bencher with less power.

*sus*

9.09am

Nick Gibb, Schools Minister, quits to live out his stated dream of being more diplomatic, or something.

*sus*

9.42am

The Lib Dems decide to build on the success of their leader getting to be on telly for his one comment on Thursday and call for a general election. Says Ed Davey: “It was the Prime Minister’s sheer cowardice that kept her in the job even for this long. We are witnessing a broken party and a broken government, both of which are breaking this country.”

Good job! They're having such a good few days.

Anyway remember the Tories don’t have to have a general election until December 2024, though, thanks to the Fixed-term Parliaments Act (2011), which was passed by the coalition government of Tories and, um, Lib Dems. In which Ed Davey served for three years.

Hmm.

9.43am

James Cleverly (remember him?) returns to the Cabinet and is appointed Home Secretary. The party attempts to appear trendy by experimenting with emojis:

This appointment is probably because Tory strategists wanted him in a domestic role to help the party’s chances in the next election; as Surprising Political Pundit Nadine Dorries told us, of all fucking people, the race is now on to lead the opposition.

But hey, this is not likely to lead to any more changes -

10.03am

FORMER PRIME MINISTER, BREXIT-TRIGGERER AND PIG-FUCKER DAVID CAMERON BECOMES FOREIGN SECRETARY

!!!!!!!!!!!!

And look! Another emoji! They're so hip!

(Side note... the balls on this one are astounding, actually. The UK political system has been in chaos ever since Cameron, and he was the first domino. This is not a well-loved former hero that will be greeted warmly by the unwashed masses.)

Awkward though, since just last month Sunak claimed that we’d lived through “30 years of a political system that incentivizes the easy decision, not the right one.” It would be a terrible shame if a journalist was to ask David Cameron whether he agreed with the Prime Minister on that, given that Cameron’s job is to support the Prime Minister now.

Especially since Cameron took to Twitter last month to explicitly criticise Sunak for breaking the Tory promise to deliver High Speed 2.

(Cameron tweeted this criticism last month. Labour MP Angela Rayner however promptly retweets it now lol suck a dick Dave, but try a human one this time)

Also, fun fact, Cameron has just come out of a large-scale lobbying and corruption scandal. Given the state of Sunak, though, that's actually probably what got him the job.

BUT!!! Here's an even funner fact: the man is not an MP. He left politics after he accidentally triggered Brexit and then it came out he'd once face fucked a dead pig's head while it was held on the lap of another Tory; he's been living it up in the lucrative world of after-dinner speaking, as these people do.

So can you do that?? Can you hold a Cabinet position if no one at all has voted for you??

Yes, turns out.

Don't be alarmed by that, though:

But, convention holds that anyone who becomes a Cabinet member while not being an MP needs to be a Peer - that way, if they do bad and naughty things, they can't be held accountable by the House of Commons but they can be held accountable by the House of Lords. Only problem is, Hameron is not a lord...

10.13am

The reshuffle, bafflingly, continues. Jeremy Hunt will remain as chancellor.

For the first time since 2010, the top four positions in government – Prime Minister (Sunak), Chancellor of the Exchequer (Hunt), Home Secretary (Cleverly) and Foreign Secretary (Cameron) – are all held by men.

10.18am

Lots of people tweeting about the historic context of Cameron’s appointment. Here’s my favourite:

10.48am

David Cameron is given a life peerage, so his proper name now is Lord Piggledick.

10.52am

Health secretary Will Quince quits. He wasn’t planning to stand for re-election anyway though, so this one is probably not a shock. But it's important that no one else resi-

11.04am

Decarbonisation minister Jesse Norman resigns.

...

Time for a

✨Conspiracy Theory✨

Between Quince and Norman – as well as Neil O’Brien and Nick Gibb – we’re seeing several mid-ranking ministers resign, despite being generally regarded as fairly competent.

It’s possible they were fired in private, and they’re publicly resigning to save face. But here’s another theory.

MPs aren’t allowed to seek commercial employment for six months after resigning from the government.

So hypothetically, if you were going to lose your seat in a general election, you’d want to have resigned six months earlier so you can still get a job.

If that’s what these guys are doing, it suggests we’re on track for a May 2024 election...?

11.05am

11.12am

Remember Cameron's financial scandal? Quick background here: David Cameron was specifically vice-chair of a £1bn China-UK investment fund.

So let’s see what throwback former leader Iain Duncan Smith thinks of Cameron’s return:

“I am astonished at this appointment. It seems to send a signal to China that we are pursuing business with them at all costs and any costs. Those who have been sanctioned now feel more abandoned than at any time. Those facing genocide and persecution will feel more abandoned than at any time.”

I cannot believe I am about to say this.

But.

I agree with Iain Duncan Smith *spits on floor*

11.50am

Former Tory deputy prime minister Lord Heseltine is asked to sum up the return of Cameron, and says it’s the “clearest signal that the sort of right wing lurch that we’ve seen and the anti-European movement that we’ve seen has been put to bed, and that will get a message across to people”.

12.13pm

A Tory MP is worried that Cameron’s return will turn back the clock on Brexit and Johnson’s election.

“It is very alarming. I am predicting a softening on small boats, a softening on legal migration. I would not be surprised if the ban on conversion therapy returns.”

... Don’t threaten me with a good time.

Anyway, let’s see how the public actually sees Cameron compared with other PMs!

Yeah, not sure people will mind if Cameron’s not Boris Johnson.

12.43pm

ITV political editor Robert Peston walks past a minister of state. The minister’s on the phone, but takes a moment to heatedly shout at Peston, “The PM just sacked me!”

I guess some days are easier than others as a journalist

12.47pm

Therese Coffey resigns as environment secretary!!!!

*choirs of heavenly angels sing*

You'll remember her of course, Tumblrs - she was one of the thugs manhandling people into the 'right' voting lobbies to force their vote on the day of Liz Truss' fracking law. Rumour has it she still has the Whip handle in her ass.

A lot of people seem to be resigning today! But don't be fooled. In almost every case, it’ll be because they were told to resign. They’ve been sacked, but they resign to save face. A last mercy from their benevolent leader.

My guess: Tessie here is terrible at media skills, so – get rid of her before she hurts general election chances. This, too, is a pattern.

12.52pm

Rachel Maclean sacked as Housing Minister! Fun fact, numbers fans: it took Doctor Who 33 years to make it to eight Doctors, but since the 2019 election, the Tories managed eight Housing Ministers in just under 4 years

trololol

1.15pm

Jeremy Quin quits as Minister for the Cabinet Office.

1.37pm

Times Political Editor Steven Swinford reports that No 10 is struggling to find a new housing minister (owing to rumours the job is cursed). Several people have turned it down, including Jeremy Quin. It is incredible to me that they didn't line someone up before sacking the last guy.

Kemi Badenoch and Michael Gove are apparently unhappy that Rachel Maclean was removed from the role. I for one do not care about the opinions of Kemi Badenoch or Michael Gove.

2.04pm

Health Secretary Steve Barclay becomes Environment Secretary. This is effectively a demotion for him. It is our 5th Environment Secretary in four years. Chasing that Housing Minister record! It took 19 years for Doctor Who to have five Doctors

2.15pm

Richard Holden appointed new Conservative Party chairman.

A 2019-intake Tory MP, he led the charge against Sir Keir Starmer over Beergate, which did damage Starmer a bit (albeit not much, given that it turned out Starmer had complied with lockdown regs, and the accusation was nakedly to try and distract from Partygate). So this appointment looks like more strategy to win the next election - someone not known enough to be hated, with what passes in the modern Tory party for a proven track record.

This could be a sign that the Tories intend to at least try to shore up the Red Wall votes? As unlikely as the Tories are to keep those seats.

That said, Holden’s seat disappears in a boundary change next election, sooooo … we'll see what they do there.

2.24pm

Victoria Atkins appointed Health Secretary, replacing Steve Barclay who’s moved to Environment Secretary. She's a relative unknown but also considered actually competent. Massive middle finger to Steve Barclay

2.37pm

Laura Trott (formerly in pensions) promoted to Chief Secretary to the Treasury.

2.42pm

Science minister George Freeman resigns.

3.18pm

YouGov conducts a snap poll: is the appointment of David Cameron as Foreign Secretary a good decision or a bad decision?

Good decision: 24%

Bad decision: 38%

Don't know: 38%

So that's going well

3.24pm

Greg Hands is made a business minister after losing the Tory chairman role.

John Glen moves from chief secretary to the Treasury to become the Minister for the Cabinet Office and Paymaster General.

3.39pm

With Cameron being a Lord now, he’ll be based in the House of Lords rather than the Commons. The most recent Cabinet Minister to be based in the Lords was former Brexit minister Lord Frost, who did weigh in on the matter:

“[T]hough I was not running a whole Department too. I don’t think it works well to have a lead Cabinet Minister answering questions and defending their Department solely in the Lords. The Lords is not a fully party political environment - nor should it be - and voters are owed proper political scrutiny. In our system, that can only happen in the Commons.”

I cannot believe I am about to say this.

But.

I agree with Lord Frost *spits on floor*

The SNP had already called this out, with MP Stephen Flynn claiming, “The UK is not a serious country.”

4.21pm

Conservative MP Lee Rowley appointed the 16th housing minister in the past 13 years. Even counting David Tennant twice, that's more than all the Doctors Who we've ever had, and that took almost 60 years.

5.16pm

Sky News’s Tamara Cohen reports that Sunak sacked Braverman by phone this morning! Downing Street says there won’t be any exchange of letters between them - this is almost unheard of. Politics runs on paper trails! Everything happens through formal letters! By phone!

It means we’re denied insight into their differences. But Cohen reckons we’re likely to hear from Braverman on Wednesday, as the Supreme Court rules on the Rwanda scheme.

6.03pm

Tory MP Andrea Jenkyns, former Education Minister, submits no-confidence letter in Rishi Sunak.

It's almost like, in the absence of Dorries, she's decided that someone needs to step up and have a tantrum and that someone might as well be her. It is, actually, an extremely funny letter, as these letters go. Normally they're written with a sort of furious earnestness wrapped in formal language. I presume that Andrea Jenkyns MP, former Education Minister, was aiming for something similar, and the first paragraph manages it. But by the end you sort of start to wonder if this was supposed to be a letter she wrote with her therapist to get her feelings out:

My favourite line, when pulled in isolation, is "Yes Boris Johnson, the man who won the Conservative Party a massive majority, was unforgivable enough."

Yeah, Andrea babes. You're bang on there.

6.05pm

Esther McVey is appointed as Cabinet Office minister. Not a full cabinet member, but she will attend cabinet meetings.

This is notable: unlike a lot of today’s appointments, she’s on the right of the party. Her role will be to represent the government on TV and radio as much as possible, talking about gender/culture/British colonial history issues (i.e. she’s anti-woke and a screaming bigot).

In other words, with Braverman gone, McVey is an offering for the populist right of the party to try to appease them.

6.15pm

Sunak tweets about the new cabinet, claiming they’ll make “the right decisions for our great country, not the easy ones.” So it looks like that’s the new slogan, and we're pressing on with austerity

6.27pm

Tim Loughton, a Tory MP on the “One Nation” wing (i.e the David Cameron side) responds to Andrea Jenkyns’s letter of no-confidence by tweeting:

“Where can we submit a letter of no confidence in the Pantomime Dame?”

(It’s Andrea he’s publicly referring to as a pantomime dame there. A lil joke from the Tories for you)

6.31pm

Paul Scully sacked as minister for London. Didn't know that one was a position.

9.43pm

Sunak says that only a two-state solution will allow a new future for Israel/Palestine. This is, um, not what the Prime Minister of Israel wants. Who knows whether the Prime Minister of Israel will survive this crisis anyway – but these are big words from Sunak. Cameron’s influence? Maybe? Interesting either way

10.03pm

And then - PLOT TWIST!!!

According to ITV political editor Robert Peston, a senior government source reveals that Cameron was approached on TUESDAY.

Which means plans were underway to get rid of Braverman not only before the far-right violence on Saturday, but before her anti-police article on Wednesday. It seems she lost her job not because of what she said about police after all; but because she claimed homelessness was a lifestyle choice.

Well well.

11.05pm

And the day finishes with Andrea Leadsom back in government (as Under Secretary of State for Health and Social Care) which nobody saw coming! Pretty demeaning to the other 300 Tory MPs who could have been given this.

The final response from numerous Tories: they are feeling jilted and insulted because David Cameron being brought back when he's NOT EVEN AN MP, RISHI suggests that they themselves are not good enough to be in government.

No one tell them

#politik #clownfall: endgame

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sinner-as-saint · 20 days

Text

meaner than my demons

Dark!Bucky x Avenger!Reader au

Run-through: You wake up in a manor in the middle of nowhere with no recollection of how you got there. All you remember is that you and Bucky were out on a mission, and then nothing. Bucky…? This wasn’t his doing, was it? What you didn’t know was that Bucky, of all people, had all the reasons to become the bad guy. To avenge himself, what was done to him, and all that was mercilessly taken from him. Nobody knew just how close he’d gotten to just giving into the twisted temptations that beckoned him over. All he needed was a slight nudge, a purpose – and you gave him that unknowingly. So he went, and he dragged you over to the darkness with him.

Themes: angst, dark!bucky, kidnapping, sort of beauty and the beast vibes, mentions of bucky’s traumatic past as the winter soldier, smut, fluff, praise kink, HEA but slightly ambiguous ending ;)

a/n: the angst is strong with this one. Also, I was merely experimenting with this character so take nothing too seriously <3 ily (p.s: this is long, grab a snack)

There’s a minotaur in the middle of the maze.

That sentence echoed in your head as you slowly blinked your eyes open. Your vision was blurry, your head spun even as you laid down looking up at the shiny, intricate chandelier above the canopy bed you were currently in.

You focused on the bizarrely alluring chandelier, blinking as you tried to bring your vision back to normal, trying to get your head to stop spinning.

It felt like you were waking up after a night of heavy drinking. Slowly, as if not trusting your body, you sat up on the comfy bed.

There’s a minotaur in the middle of the maze.

There was that damn sentence again. What the fuck is even that? Where did it come from? You squinted as you looked around, feeling a throbbing headache forming. Nevermind the strange sentence, where were you was the real question here. How did you end up in this bed?

Panicking you quickly assessed your body. You were still in your mission gear, except none of your guns were in their holsters. Other than that, everything felt fine. You weren’t hurt anywhere, except for a pain at the back of your neck. You moved your head, trying to figure out what the cause of the pain was, but other than some sore muscles, nothing hurt.

You carefully sat on the edge of the bed, planting your boots on the ground and looking around. Judging by the light coming in through the ridiculously large georgian windows, it looked like it was well into the evening. And the room was… beautiful in a gothic, dark way.

Apart from the fireplace within which was lit a small fire, and the golden scones on the walls and the chandelier above the bed, everything else was dark. The walls were dark green, the large canopy bed was all-black with dark grey bedding, the high ceiling was covered in detailed moulding. Dark, wooden coffee table and bookshelves, black leather upholstered sofas, a huge chest drawer in the corner.

If you were kidnapped, you thought, you’d likely be in some dark room with no windows – like a dungeon. Not in a properly furnished, clean bedroom.

You frowned as you tried to go back, trying to figure out how you got here. You got up from the bed and approached the windows, looking out. For a moment you were mesmerised by the view outside. From this window, you could see the sprawling wings of the house on either side of you. A manor, then, not a house.

Situated at the foot of hills which rose behind the manor, partially shrouded in dense fog. Some countryside, then? You tucked that information away as you scanned the area even more. The manor it seemed was surrounded by thick woods. The hills, the fog, the dark green woods, it all seemed like it was a scene out of a mysterious, dangerous novel. The silence, the secrecy…

You looked further around and noticed a walled garden not too far to the right, and to the complete left a… huge hedge maze. You could only see part of it but–

There’s a minotaur in the middle of the maze…?

The memory came flooding into your brain, and you almost lost your balance for a moment.

You had been hiking up these hills for days. But a mission was a mission, correct? You looked behind you and noticed Bucky frowning in deep thought.

“Are you sure about this?” You asked your good friend. You and Bucky had been paired together for many missions recently, all of them successful. You two made a great team. He wasn’t much of a talker, and you enjoyed silence and solitude.

“Yeah,” He mumbled, coming to a stop beside you. “I received solid intel about a house just beyond these woods. The owner deals in illegal substances,” He added in his usual, dark-humoured, self-deprecating tone, “the kind that can create worse creatures than super soldiers.”

“Hey!” You tapped him on the chest playfully, disapproving of his joke. Still you said, “I, for one, am glad they made you.” You added to his weird humour, “I get a good friend and a perfect bodyguard all in one.”

Bucky gave you a rare smile. It made him look boyish and young, and… handsome. You looked away quickly. It always did something to you, that smile. It was a useless little crush you’d been nurturing since that day – months ago – when Bucky took a bullet to his shoulder to save you during a crossfire.

“You can stay here if you want,” Bucky suggested, “I’ll go take a look and come back.”

“No,” You reached into your backpack and pulled out two fancy binoculars, handing one to him, “We just need to get on top of this hill, and then we’ll keep an eye on the house and its ground for a while,” You explained as you began hiking up the hill again, Bucky following you loyally like he had this whole time, “And then we’ll make a plan. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Getting on top of the hill was no big deal. The hike was easy and the hill was high enough that you had a clear vision of the manor and its grounds even with thick woods between the hill and the manor.

You let out a gasp the moment you looked through the binoculars. Bucky beside you did the same thing, not gasping at the beauty of it all though. Then again, few things impressed Bucky. You supposed this luxurious, gothic manor and its elegant grounds weren’t on the list.

“Whoever this is should be ashamed that they’re using this beautiful place for something so dark.” You whispered, looking and taking in the details of the manor. It looked enchanting in the morning light.

“You like it?”

“Bucky, one would have to be an absolute idiot to not appreciate the beauty of this place. No neighbours, no one to bother you. Just foggy hills, dense woods and… ooh!” You exclaimed with genuine happiness, forgetting for a moment that you were here on a mission and not sightseeing. “Bucky! There’s a maze!”

“Really?”

You couldn’t look away. You zoomed as much as you could, trying to take in the details. “Yes, an actual maze and it’s huge!” You had the biggest smile on your face. “Oh this is a dream, and… oh look! There’s a minotaur in the middle of the maze!”

Bucky let out a chuckle. “How cliché.”

You kept watching, letting your guard completely down for a moment. You didn’t see Bucky approaching, you didn’t notice the shift, not until it was too late.

“I’m sorry, doll.”

That was the last thing you heard before feeling a burning sensation at the back of your neck, and then darkness and the warmth of Bucky’s chest as he held you to keep you from falling on the ground.

Fuck.

Bucky?

Why would he do that? You didn’t do anything. You were breathing heavily now, looking around for a way out. These windows didn’t open, and the door must be–

It opened right as you stared at it, and in walked Bucky. Dressed differently. He wasn’t in his usual mission gear. No leather jackets, no gun holsters, not even his knives. Just a casual shirt, and comfy trousers. Like this was normal. Like he was at home.

Your eyes widened as this started to make a little more sense. But you didn’t dare think about it properly. He wouldn’t… right? He was your friend. You two had fought together for years. He was one of the good guys… right?

“Buck?”

He shut the door behind him as he stepped further into the room. “I came as fast as I could when they told me you were beginning to wake up.” He said a little sheepishly.

What? But most importantly, “Who’s ‘they’?” You asked, trying your best to put all your training into practice and keeping your calm.

“My housekeepers.” He answered like it was the most obvious thing.

You noted the way he avoided your eyes, the way he kept flexing his metal hand. Bucky was slightly nervous.

You took a step back, pressing against the cold windows. “What is going on? What is this place? Did you…” Your voice cracked as you asked, “Did you drug me?”

“You wouldn’t come willingly.” He answered, staring deeply at the fireplace as he approached it and placed his metal hand on the mantle above. “And you wouldn’t be willing to listen to me.”

Your heart pounded. What was he talking about? “This place, this house is… yours?”

Bucky nodded.

“And there is no guy dealing in dangerous substances, is there?” You figured this was a trap and you walked right into it.

“No.” He answered truthfully. “There isn’t. This is my home. Well, one of them.”

“Bucky,” You whispered, cautiously. Afraid. Wary. His home? Since when? “Why?”

He finally looked at you. The soft fire in the fireplace lit one side of his face and hid the other side in shadows. Fitting, you thought, despite it all. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.” He said, almost like he was offended that you would think so. “I would never hurt you, doll.”

“I want the truth, Buck.” You stared deep into his familiar blue eyes, trying to find your friend in there. And he was there, but he was behind a dark smoke screen. “Please.”

Bucky sighed. “Take a seat.” He said softly, settling down on one of the many sofas scattered around the spacious room.

You didn’t. You remained there by the windows, like the distance between you and him would save you from the dangers you weren’t aware of yet.

He sighed again, “Fine, be difficult then.” He got up, and began walking towards you.

You panicked, remaining frozen in place for a moment. But by the time you moved to get away from him, he was too close. You went to run away but his metal hand firmly around your wrist stopped you.

“I won’t hurt you.” He repeated, pulling you close until you hit his chest, then wrapped his other arms around you. “Believe me,” He said.

You shook your head as you looked into his eyes, the hidden darkness in them. “What happened to you?” You whispered, “Why are you doing this?”

He frowned as if you were the one being ridiculous. “Don’t you see? This place is perfect for us.”

For us?

You noted the strange haze in his captivating eyes. Something was different about him.

“What?” You blinked, ignoring the many questions you had. “Bucky, our friends, they need us.” You tried reasoning, though in vain, “We need to go back. And keep fighting–”

“Back to what?” He argued, cutting you off. “Fight for who?”

“The innocent people, Buck. The ones who are constant victims of our enemies, and–,”

“I was a victim too.” He said, silencing you at once with a dark tone. “No one fought for me.”

He rarely ever brought up HYDRA, so this was new territory to you. You approached it carefully, softening your voice as you said, “Steve did.”

Bucky surprised you by scoffing carelessly. Dropping his voice he said, “And yet, all I ever was to him in the end was disposable.”

That shut you up.

For a moment you felt a fraction of the pain he felt. You always empathised with him, even before you started nurturing that little crush you had on him. “But you have the chance now, Buck.” You tried reasoning, calmly and no longer resisting his grip on your wrist. “Let’s go back, and fight so no one ever has to suffer like you did.”

“No.”

The finality in his tone made you shiver. “So what? You’re gonna keep me captive here and we’re gonna let the bad people win?”

Bucky sighed. “They already won. Don’t you see the state of this world?”

You flinched. “That’s your goal then? To punish the world and everyone in it?”

“Punish it?” He scoffed. “No. I want to see it try and fend for itself. Or watch it die trying.”

“Bucky…” You didn’t recognise the man you were looking at. “We can make a difference, no matter how minor. We’re the good guys, remember?”

He let go of your hand, turned to face the windows pensively. “I’m done being good.”

You remained frozen in place, assessing the situation quickly. He had his back to you, so he was confident you wouldn’t hurt him. He had shut the door on his way in but never locked it. That must mean even if you got past the door, he must’ve made sure you wouldn’t make it out of this house.

But you couldn’t leave, could you? You believed him when he said he wouldn’t hurt you. You wouldn’t leave him here like this. Bucky was hurting, and he was acting this way because of that. But the house? Why bring you here? Why drug you? What did he want?

“Bucky,” You said after taking a deep breath. “You’re my friend, we’ve fought together for years. You rescued me so many times. You took a bullet for me. I know you’re good.”

He shook his head, looking out the window. “I’ve been good, all my life. I was good when I followed Steve and believed in what he stood for. I was good when I was captured, and forced to be a killing machine. I was good, deep down I know I was still good, even when they wiped my mind each time and made me perform however they wanted.”

You flinched, your heart sinking with each word that came out of his mouth.

He continued, as if numb to it all.

“I was desperately good even when I found myself stuck in a wrong, superhuman body. I was good even when everyone around me expected me to get over it and keep fighting like a good little soldier.” He finally turned to you and said, “I’m done, now. What did it ever give me?”

His words hit harder than a punch to the face. “Buck…” You almost comforted him, because there was still your dear friend, broken. But wrong. So wrong to believe there weren't still good things to fight for. “You have people who care for you.”

“Do I?” His tone was mocking. And you didn’t dare reply, so he continued. “I’ve been used in experiments that had no ethical limits. I’ve been a weapon, a commodity. I’ve been a mindless soldier. I’ve been stuck in the body of a murderer. I’ve been a throwaway friend. No one ever cared.”

“I do.”

Bucky was quiet. His shoulders moving just a little as he breathed deeply.

You continued. “And Sam does. And so do all of our friends.” You argued, trying to find something, anything to prove a point, “I mean, all of Wakanda believed in you when they helped you.”

“They did.” He almost smiled in gratitude. “But they never trusted me.” He sounded genuinely sad. “I remained a weapon.” He looked down at his shiny metal arm and added, “So easily dismantled.”

Was this really how you would lose him? To the darkness in his head? Your heart pounded as you looked at him. Standing proud and tall, looking out the window as the darkening evening made the room even dimmer. The last logs in the fireplace cracked. And Bucky was still so beautiful standing by the window, but broken. Like a tortured and grim lord of the manor.

“It doesn’t have to be like this, Buck.” You took a step back when he turned to face you.

“No, it doesn’t.” He agreed, weirdly. Then added, “I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t care about the rest of the world, I’m done being a good little soldier. I just want to be a man.” He took a few more steps until he was right in front of you. His handsome face so close to yours. “And be with the woman I want, in our own quiet little paradise.” His hand reached out to gently stroke your cheek. His metal hand found itself on your waist, tugging you closer gently. “Isn’t this perfect, doll? Hmm?”

You were so surprised that you didn’t even properly register the meaning behind his words until you replayed it in your head a few times. “You… what?”

“You know,” He smirked, fingers now tracing your parted lips. “At first I wondered what was taking you so long to realise. I’m not very good at being subtle with my feelings, you see. But you never caught on.” His smirk widened. “And then I found out why in the best way possible.”

You were afraid to ask for some reasons. “Why?” You whispered.

Bucky leaned in, brushing the cold tip of his nose against your cheek, and said, “Because you like me too, and you were too busy hiding your own feelings that you didn’t pay attention to mine. Wanna know how I know?” He chuckled, “I heard you whispering my name under your breath as you touched yourself. Too many times to count.”

You gasped in surprise, unable to move.

“Well,” He said, “That’s a figure of speech, of course I know exactly how many times. I kept count.” He continued, loving the way you began squirming in embarrassment. “It’s the metal hand, isn’t it? It turns you on?” He chuckled.

“You…” You finally found your voice and stumbled on your words, “You had no right.”

He laughed, pulling away to look at you. “To listen to you moaning my name? Not my fault you’re so loud to my very, very sensitive ears.” He teased.

He was so close. His chest, so warm. His arms around you, so perfect that you almost forgot all about the conversation you had before all this.

You stepped away, and out of his embrace. Taking a deep breath, you tried to focus on the important thing here. “What do you want, Bucky?”

He shrugged, “Well right now I want us to have dinner, it’s getting late and you haven’t eaten all day.”

You sighed. “Then? When I want to leave, you’ll stop me?”

Bucky was so very still. It was inhuman. Then again, he was not exactly just a regular guy. “If I wanted you trapped here you would have woken up tied to the bed, doll.”

“So I can walk away from here if I want?” You asked. No. That would be too easy. Wouldn’t it?

“You could.”

Another trap, you figured. For the first time since this absurd evening started, you straightened your back and faced Bucky with a little less fear, and embarrassment. “You won’t win, Bucky. Not like this.”

He gave you a handsome, smug grin and said, “We’ll talk about all that later. Now, do what you need to do, freshen up,” He pointed at the door in the corner of the bedroom, the bathroom you assumed, “And join me for dinner downstairs.” He leaned in and too casually kissed your forehead. “Don’t keep me waiting, doll.”

And he left. Leaving you even more confused than when you didn’t have any answers.

You thought about it as you reluctantly made your way into the bathroom which was just as dark and luxurious as the rest of the bedroom. Dark green walls, a large white and gold tub, mouldings on the ceiling matching the bedroom, large gilded mirrors and sinks. A spacious shower booth, with fancy faucets and shower heads.

You checked the many cabinets and found everything one could need. The skin care products looked inviting but first of all, you needed a hot shower. You grabbed a neatly folded bathrobe and some body wash products and stepped into the booth.

Then you spent your time thinking about everything. What did you know as of now? That Bucky owned this place, it was his home. That Bucky was done fighting, he had plans to say ‘fuck it all’ and retire. That he liked you back? Fine, he did. He wanted you to stay here with him? And never fight again? That was a whole other thing you had to worry about. But first, how to get out of here?

Also how did Bucky afford this place? Had he always been filthy rich?

What was the endgame here? And if he managed to keep you here, would any of your friends come looking for you? No one even knew where you were, that’s how much you trusted Bucky. The moment he brought this fake mission up you agreed to come with him immediately. Alright, your little crush had had an influence on your decision making but still.

Could you trust Bucky now? It felt foolish to admit, but yes. Yes you could. Bucky would never hurt you.

So you got out of the shower, with more questions and made your way back to the room and found neatly folded clothes on the bed. Soft, comfy, casual clothes. You put them on and took a deep breath before you stepped out of the room.

As you made your way down one of the two ornate staircases, you hoped you’d find Bucky again somewhere down here. Meanwhile you couldn’t help but admire his home. It was… hauntingly beautiful. It was more dark than lit. Rich colours: dark green, dark red, black. Gilded picture frames along the hallways, large foyer, high ceilings, carved designs on almost all the furniture. Everything screamed luxury, expensive taste, old money, and like a home out of another era. An older era.

You couldn’t see any of the housekeepers, but you soon found Bucky sitting at the head of a ridiculously fancy dining table in the dining room.

“There you are,” He said, placing his wine glass down, “I was beginning to think you must be trying to get away.” He teased.

You rolled your eyes and then quickly took in the room. Just as spacious as the rest of the house. A fireplace in a corner, tall arched windows, dark red curtains which allowed just the briefest amount of moonlight to come in. The room was well lit, and you couldn’t miss the grand chandelier above the adorned table and chairs.

Sitting at the head of that table, Bucky reminded you of a bored prince – surrounded by unexplainable luxury which suited him too well.

You took a seat at the other end of the table, facing Bucky fully. He noted your tactic and smirked. Then you said, “I didn't know you were rich.” Because surely super soldiers aren’t getting paid this much.

He shrugged like it was no big deal, “I’m over a century old, doll. I would be an absolute idiot if I didn’t amass a fortune that could last me a couple more lifetimes.”

You also noted the way he used your own words against you, but kept quiet. “Right. But how exactly?”

He explained. “A lot of the people I was asked to... get rid of for HYDRA were influential people. Rich, wealthy, borderline royalty. And they would always try to bribe me just to be spared. They offered me everything I wanted if I let them go.”

He sighed, almost in annoyance of the memories.

He continued, “I couldn't let them go of course, but they always revealed all their secrets during their last moments.” His stare was distant. “And after the job was done, whatever they left behind, whatever they offered, locations of their hidden wealth and riches, it was all mine for the taking.” He added, “And since I was a good little machine, HYDRA never looked too deep into what I did as long as I got the job done.”

Everytime Bucky opened up about his past, you realised that there was so much about him that you didn’t know. “That’s a lot of secrets.”

“Indeed.”

“And this manor? It’s one of the secrets left behind by someone you got rid of as well?”

“No,” He said, “This was built from the ground up. Decades ago.”

Decades. Again, another reminder of how many lives he had lived in the past century. It was almost fascinating. You opened your mouth to ask another question, but the door behind Bucky – which you hadn’t noticed earlier – opened and in walked two ladies with full trays in their hands. One of the trays filled with food, including a glass of wine, was brought over to you.

You eyed the tray for a moment before you sent a questioning glare at Bucky.

“What? Is it a surprise that I know what you like?” There was that smug grin again on his handsome face.

Hunger won over confusion and anger, so you took a bite out of some food before you asked, “How did you put up such a good façade? For so long?” Hiding all of this couldn’t have been easy, right?

“I didn't.” He answered. “I thought a broken soldier was what I needed to be, all I could ever be.” He smiled, “Then I met you and for the first time, I craved a simpler life. One where we could have nothing but time to do what we wanted, and no longer have to partake in fights that aren't ours.”

You genuinely wanted to know, so you asked softly, “Is this truly what you want, Buck? To sit here and say to hell with the world outside?”

“Isn’t it peaceful?” He questioned, “No meetings, or briefings. No country out to get us, no enemies out to kill us.”

You remained quiet. For a little while, you both ate in silence. You could feel Bucky’s eyes on each one of your movements. He kept quiet though, and then you asked, “Why is no one out to get you? Given who you are and who you used to be, one would assume you’d have the most enemies out there.”

“I have friends in all the right places.” He answered.

You frowned. “What does that mean?”

He smirked, “Now, I can’t give away all my secrets, can I?” He said as he stood up, wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “I have some things I need to do, you’ll find your way back to your room?”

You nodded, though suspicious at the sudden freedom.

He whispered a quick ‘good night’ and left. Which made you frown in confusion because why would he leave you here? When you could easily walk out? Was he expecting you to try and escape? Was he hoping you would?

You got up from the table, and carefully walked out of the dining room, stepping into the hallway. You didn’t take the time to admire the scones on the walls, the paintings, anything. All you saw was the foyer and beyond which was the grand entrance of the manor.

Even from the inside you could see the foggy air outside. The fog swirling around like smoke. It looked cold out. Even if you made a run for it, you would be sick and frozen by morning.

You stood there for a moment, steps away from the foyer. There were no cameras, that was the first thing you looked for in the house. None of the housekeepers could be seen, you realised they made themselves scarce.

You should’ve taken the staircase and gone back up to the bedroom. Maybe you’d question Bucky tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow he’d listen. But the front doors looked tempting. And that part of your brain which always went seeking trouble, the part that always pushed you into doing bold things, that part made you move towards the doors.

Chances were that Bucky was watching, and you almost wanted him to see. To see that you couldn’t be kept here. So you went for it. You waited for some kind of alarm to go off as you turned the door knob and pulled open the door, stepping a foot out and then the other. But no alarm came.

The fog messed with your vision, you couldn’t see further than the white marble steps. It was cold and you had no extra layers on. This was stupid. And yet, you took a few more steps down the marble stairs which led to what you assumed would be the front yard.

You were about five steps down before you stopped. There was the silhouette of a male figure standing at the bottom of the stairs, engulfed by the fog. The moonlight made him look like a dark villain. Yet the shiny metal arm gave him away. “I thought you said I could walk away.” You tested the waters.

“I did say you could.” He took a step up the stairs, “I didn’t say I would let you get too far.”

You scoffed, trying your hardest to hide how you shivered in the cold night. The fog was all around you by now. All you could see was the faint outline of Bucky and the white stairs.

“Get back inside,” He ordered. “It’s cold out.”

“I won’t let you make a prisoner out of me.”

“That’s not my goal here.” He sounded reassuring.

“Then let me go.”

“You know I can’t do that, doll.” He took another step, getting closer. You could tell by his stance that he was ready for it, should you want to fight your way out of here.

And you did. You went for it.

First a punch, then a kick. It was hard to keep your balance on marble stairs, but you did your best, just like when you two used to spar while training.

You gave it your all, you tried your hardest to get him off his feet and on the ground and possibly make a run for it, but he anticipated each punch, each kick. You put up a decent fight for a few minutes, grunting at each failed punch and kick.

“I don’t want to hurt you!” He growled, blocking yet another one of your punches.

You didn’t stop, you kept trying until it hurt. Until he managed to have you pinned to the ground, your back hurting against the marble stairs, metal hand around your throat, his muscular body straddling yours right there on the cool marble stairs, the edge of the steps digging into your skin, making you hiss in pain.

“Let go!” You spat bitterly at him, looking up and finding him glaring down at you. His breath fogged against the cold air.

Bucky chuckled. “You forgot you trained you, doll? Hmm? You forgot who taught you everything you know about combat?” Bucky smirked as he leaned down. His face was directly above yours, his nose touching yours. “Do you know how many times I’ve had to walk away all hard after sparring with you?” He leaned just a little closer so his mouth hovered over yours. “It turned you on too, didn’t it? I could smell it then. And I can smell it now.”

That did it. You managed to find enough energy to push him off of you, you were on him the moment his body hit the marble floor, straddling him and pinning him to the ground by the throat just like he did you. You could tell the edges of the stairs were digging into his back too by the way he hissed. But you didn’t let go.

“Enough.” You tightened your grip around his throat. “I won’t play this little game with you.” You breathed heavily, exhausted by now, “You want to stay here and pretend to be some tortured, gothic lord of the manor? Fine! Go ahead. But let me go.”

“You don’t want to go.” He whispered, confidently. He just laid there, under you. Arms limp by his sides even though you knew too well that he could flip you around at any moment he wanted.

“Oh yeah? Is that what you think?”

He smirked. It annoyed you how handsome he was. “I know. If you so desperately wanted to get out of here then by now you would’ve used the knife you snuck into your pocket from the dinner table.” He chuckled. “Can’t do it, can you?”

Damn him. And here you thought you were being slick. You didn’t realise his hands had moved, no longer limp on his sides but now on your legs, fingers reaching for the crease of your thighs, rubbing your skin through the thin PJ pants you wore.

You gasped when his metal hand found its way between your parted legs, caressing you through the layers of clothing you wore. “Don’t you see?” He said, cold fingers moving along your waistband, “I’m doing this for us.” His fingers slipped into your pants, making you gasp even louder as you felt him touching you.

Your face burned as you thought about how many times you’d dreamt of this moment. How many times had you pretended it was his hand touching you. But it was never in these circumstances. Never had you thought it would happen on marble stairs, surrounded by dense fog, in some mysterious manor.

“Bucky,” You whispered, feeling his fingers slowly separating your wet folds, inspecting your slit before he slid one, then a second metal finger into you.

“Yes, baby?” His other hand wandered all over your body as you straddled him, reaching up to cup your face. His thumb traced the shape of your mouth while his two metal fingers slid so perfectly in and out of you, making you ride his fingers just briefly to chase the feeling of them against you. “Doesn’t it feel good? Hmm?” He thrust his fingers deeper into you, his metal thumb gently rubbing your clit, “Does it feel better than your fantasies?”

Damn him.

You couldn’t help but grind against his hand, wanting more and more. You didn’t care about anything right now, all that mattered was how good it felt. How much, much better than your fantasies it was. But you wouldn’t tell him all that.

He didn’t need to be told. He could see it. The way you moved your hips, the way you bit your lower lip to hold back your moans and whimpers, the way you clenched around his fingers. “Come for me, doll.” He whispered, feeling your grip loosen around his throat. “Come all over my fingers like a good girl.”

You hated how quickly you came, grinding against his hand and riding his fingers like a desperate woman. The cold, the fog, your knees digging into the hard marble, none of it mattered as you came, panting and trying your hardest to catch your breath.

“We should head back inside,” He said, catching you just in time as you were about to collapse on top of the stairs, cradling you carefully. “Don’t want you to catch a cold.”

—

Two days later, Bucky asked you during breakfast if you wanted to see the walled garden.

The two of you hadn’t talked much these past two days. You only saw Bucky at meal times, and kept to yourself mostly. The weather had been mostly rainy as well, even thunderstorms at night. It suited the foggy environment really well.

Neither you nor Bucky brought up that night you two fucked. You crossed paths with him these past two days in the dining room, the hallways, and the main living room, but you didn’t say a word to each other. It was painfully awkward.

You didn’t hate what happened. You just didn’t understand. You didn’t understand him, nor this situation. None of it. How can Bucky just switch like that? How did he manage to hide all this? What else could he be hiding?

And this morning, now that the rain had temporarily disappeared and a soft sun was shining, when he offered to show you around the walled garden, it felt like he was extending a peaceful hand. So you agreed immediately. You could use some fresh air. Plus, you figured, you and Bucky would have to talk at some point.

So by mid-morning, you followed him out into the yard. The walled garden was closeby, and it was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen. It was huge. The landscaping was incredible, you could tell a lot of care went into it.

This is...," You couldn’t come up with the right words.

There was a pond in the middle. The four stone walls were covered with vines and the tiniest little flowers. The entrance was a moon gate, the entire thing was filled with brick pathways, a small section was dedicated to herbs, but most of the space was occupied by well trimmed hedges and bushes.

"Beautiful, isn’t it?" He looked around, as if trying to see what it looks like from the eyes of someone seeing it for the first time. "I spend a lot of my time here." He sounded so calm as he said it. Like it brought him genuine happiness.

"It's so peaceful here."

You could hear the birds in the nearby trees. You could feel the breeze. The sweet smell of the flowers and slightly stronger scent of the herbs. The cool, damp ground while the smell of the rain lingered. The lush green vines surrounding the walls of the garden. It was more peaceful than it was breathtakingly beautiful.

Its owner looked no less breathtaking. Dressed in simple dark trousers and a dark green sweater, he looked every bit the master of these grounds. He looked so different now, compared to the Bucky you used to know.

"We should talk, Buck." You looked down, playing with the fabric of your soft sweater.

"Yes," He agreed. "You've been ignoring me." He accused.

You couldn’t look up at him, not even when he stepped closer. “Not ignoring you, I just… it’s hard to understand you, Bucky.” You explained. “One moment you were someone I knew for years, a constant in my life and now you’re… I don’t know this new you.”

He remained quiet, listening.

You continued. “Plus you talk about us living here like it was the plan all along.”

“Wasn’t it?” He said, clenching his jaw then unclenching it. You hated how much you liked that. “Finding peace and a home. Wasn’t that the end goal? Or did you plan to sacrifice yourself in combat?”

“Our job is to fight, Buck. We–”

“Who said that?” He argued. “Haven’t we fought enough? Haven’t we given enough?”

You sighed, looking away at the pond like it would have some answers. Then you said, “We can’t just live out here, away from everyone, leave the world to burn and pretend that this isn’t selfish, Buck.”

Bucky shrugged, “Why? Nobody batted an eye when Stark did it.”

“It was different for him.” You said, taking a few steps to reach the nearest rose bush. It had no flowers but you admired it all the same. “He had a family, a kid. He was a married man.”

Bucky scoffed, “That’s it? That’s what it’ll take, then? I can marry you and give you a child.” He sounded partially playful. And it made you roll your eyes.

“Shut up, Buck.”

He chuckled. For a moment it sounded like the many bickerings you two always had as friends. For a moment all of this felt normal, comfortable.

But it couldn’t be, could it?

“You’re gonna have to let me go at some point.”

“No.” He answered, sounding sure of himself as he pulled you into his arms. “I won’t let you go back and fight till it kills you. All so you can protect a world or its people who won’t even care that you died for them.”

“That’s not your choice to make.” You looked up at him, unable to help yourself as you looked down at his soft lips, wondering what they tasted like.

“It is.” He argued, leaning in so his mouth brushed against yours. “We could live normal lives, away from all that. Just you and me. We could travel, see whatever little beauty is left in this world. And just be free. Be us.”

You pushed him away even though all you wanted was to be close to him. “And then what?” You asked, “We’ll be together forever? I have a couple more decades at best. I’m human, remember that.”

He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets and said, “You could change that.”

You frowned. “What does that mean?”

Nothing could’ve prepared you for what he said next. “I have vials of the serum used on me. Not all of it was destroyed over the years.” He sent a curious look your way. “Maybe if you–,”

You shook your head, rushing past him and almost running back into the house. “You’re insane, Bucky Barnes!”

Bucky ran after you, “Wait, I didn’t mean it like that, baby. I didn’t mean right now!”

“No!” You stopped and turned to face him, pointing a finger at his face. “After all that you told me the other night, about being trapped in an alien body and all, now you suggest that you’ll have me take the serum just so you can live out this sick, twisted fantasy you created of us in your head?”

Bucky stepped closer to you, reaching out with his metal arm and pulling you closer to him. “I’m saying you’d have the choice. I would never force you. And you know that.”

You were quiet for a moment, breathing heavily as you stared into his deep blue eyes. You didn’t know why, maybe it was the stress of these past few days and this conversation you two had just had, but your eyes burned as you began tearing up. “What happened to you, Buck?” Your voice cracked as you asked.

You closed your eyes, letting the tears fall down your cheeks. You felt his face getting closer and closer until he pressed his forehead against yours, both his arms circling around you.

“I’m sorry,” He said, “I shouldn’t have said that. I… I don’t know how to keep you close to me.”

You didn’t say anything. You just let him hold you, while you felt that inner turmoil growing.

—

You ignored Bucky again for the next week or so. You stopped showing up to join him for meals, so he resorted to having your food sent up to your room for you. In that week of silent treatment, you’d began talking to the lovely ladies who worked in his home.

The oldest of the two was the most affectionate, and she always brought you extra servings of your favourite desserts. Which you had been ignoring.

One night as she brought your dinner in she said, “He hasn’t been eating well either, you know?”

You pretended you didn’t care. So you didn’t say anything.

The kind lady spoke again, “He’s not bad at heart.”

You couldn’t help but ask, “How long have you known him?”

She smiled fondly, “Decades. I came looking for work when the house was being built. I’m from the nearby town, you see? And my family… Well, they disowned me after I had a child out of wedlock. I had nowhere to go. But James took me in.” She chuckled, “Of course, I’ve grown old since.”

But he remained the same.

She continued, “He’s always been kind. A little cold, maybe. But he’s kind.” She paused and added, “And he’s lonely. He’s trapped, you see? In a world he should’ve never been in. Companionship, perhaps, would make this a little more bearable for him.”

“It’s not so easy to give up what he’s asking me to. He’s asking me to give up everything, to leave it all behind.” Granted there wasn’t much to leave in the first place. You had no family, and the only friends you had were the ones you fought alongside with.

She carefully reached out and touched your cheek. The warmth of her hand made you smile faintly. “We all make sacrifices for love, don’t we?”

You sighed, “I think he’s hurt, and confused.”

She laughed quietly, “Oh James is many things, confused isn’t one of them.”

You frowned. “Do you not see that he’s wrong?” You sounded unsure of yourself for a moment there.

“For choosing to live his life how he wants to? For wanting a better life for you? No.”

Fine then. “What about how he’s keeping me here?”

She smiled again. “You know, he always talks about you since the day you two first met years ago. And he always told me how brilliant you were, how strong and brave you were in combat. How well you did in training and how easily you took down men twice the size of you.” She smiled proudly, even though she’d just met you. “And you know what I think?” She paused, “I think if you really wanted to leave, you would’ve fought your way out of here already.” Then before she left your bedroom she added, “Don’t underestimate how much that man loves you.”

You didn’t sleep all night because you kept replaying that conversation in your head. Over and over again. Were you here, truly, on your own volition after all? Did you subconsciously want this over the violence?

—

The next morning, Bucky was surprised to find you making your way into his library. He watched quietly how you paused at the doorway, wide-eyed and startled.

“You have a library.”

It sounded less awe-struck and more like an accusation. Like how dare he have a whole ass library and not show it to you earlier? Bucky saw a glimpse of the normal you, and he couldn’t help but smile. This was a gift after a whole week of you ignoring him and him pretending like he wasn’t walking around sulking. “Did you lose your way or did you mean to ruin your streak of giving me the silent treatment?”

He smirked when you glared at him.

Damn, his smirk. The way it lit up his handsome face… it had been too long since you’d come. And given he had admitted to having heard you masturbate before, you didn’t dare do it under his own roof. So it was safe to say that you were, maybe, just a little touch-starved and needy.

And him looking this good early in the morning was not helping. Tight black t-shirt, and soft, grey PJ pants. How dare he look this good while you were barely able to make sense of all that was happening?

“We should talk. Properly. No fighting, no arguing.” You said.

Bucky nodded, leaning against a nearby bookshelf. “What about?”

You took a deep breath, “I think I know why I haven’t fought my way out of here yet. Because let’s face it, I could kick your ass if I really wanted to.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

You took a few steps around the room, eyeing the many shelves. It was a grand, two-level library. With ornate metal stairs that led to the top level. It would take a couple of lifetimes to read all the books here. Or maybe just one long super soldier lifetime.

“Because I’m curious.” You admitted. “You were simply my friend before. But–”

He added pompously, “One you have a crush on.”

You ignored that, for now. “But now you’re… someone I don’t know. It’s hard to– it feels different. You feel different. And I can’t help it, but I want to know more. About this life you’re choosing to live. How is it so easy for you to make that choice without any guilt? I want to know.”

Bucky took a moment to process, then asked, “Are you giving me a chance?”

“I’m tired of being angry at you for kidnapping me.” You said, sighing. He opened his mouth to argue but you raised a hand to stop him. “I don’t agree with the way you did things, how you’re keeping me here, but I… I miss you, Buck. I miss us.”

Well, since you were having an honest conversation, Bucky felt comfortable to ask, “Do you still like me?” There was a rare vulnerability in his tone.

You allowed yourself to take a step closer to the shelf he was leaning against. Inching closer to him you murmured, “I would’ve stabbed you that very first night if I didn’t.”

He smiled. You smiled back.

—

Things were gradually getting back to normal after that. Well, about as normal as things can get when you’re forbidden from leaving the grounds of your friend’s manor.

You’d missed your usual morning runs, so you resumed going on runs in the mornings. The grounds were more vast than you thought, it took you days to finally map out the entire place. All except the maze. You always ran by it, or around it, never daring to go inside it. Not yet.

After your runs, and a quick shower, you’d always join Bucky for breakfast. Over time, you learned so much about him and the life he had here. It wasn’t just this magnificent home he owned, but numerous farms and multiple businesses in the small town nearby.

Your ‘relationship’ with him changed as well. While the two of you didn’t have sex again, the tension was beginning to get too much to ignore. Quick kisses in the mornings, and lingering kisses at night. Oftentimes you were tempted to ask Bucky to spend the night with you, but you thought it’d be best to wait. After all, this was all so new.

For the first time in years, you were actually contemplating leaving the ‘superhero’ duties behind and choosing yourself. It was hard not to constantly taste the guilt whenever you found yourself so close to giving into Bucky, and choosing what he was offering.

—

“Do you really have the serum?”

You asked one morning, while the two of you chose to have breakfast in the library. It was a rainy morning, and the library had massive windows so Bucky suggested you spend the morning there, knowing how much you liked it when it rained.

You agreed. Who would say no to breakfast, good books, and a rainy morning?

Then you got curious, and asked about the serum.

Bucky nodded. “I managed to get my hands on a few vials.”

Your eyes widened. “A few? How the hell did you do that?”

Bucky had a humourless smile on his face. “They tended to give me some freedom whenever I took part in their…more peculiar experiments.”

You were quick to say, “We don’t have to talk about it if–,”

He cut you off and explained nonetheless, “They were trying to see if they could create a new generation of super soldiers naturally.”

You wanted so much to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. Not out of pity, no. Just to remind him of how strong he is and how far he’s come. How he didn’t deserve all that he went through.��

“I had the chance, and I just took some of the vials and hid them out here.”

“Can I ask why?”

He kept that same humourless smile. “Out of desperation I guess. I secretly hoped that one day someone might want to be with me. And if needed, I could keep them with me for longer than their human life would naturally allow.”

“Oh, Buck.”

You couldn’t help yourself then. You stood up, walked around the small coffee table and sat on the arm of the sofa Bucky was currently sat on. Behind him, rain hit the window mercilessly as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into you.

He leaned into the hug for a moment, before pulling onto his lap then properly hugging you. He shoved his face into your neck, just breathing. His arms around you were not letting you go anytime soon.

“I need you.” He murmured against your neck, beginning to lightly kiss your skin. “Please,” He whispered.

The desire in his voice couldn’t go unnoticed, and you were barely able to hold back either so you quickly straddled him properly. Thankfully the dress you’d chosen for today allowed you to move comfortably.

Bucky hands were eager, touching you everywhere he could, greedy for more. He grabbed you by the hips and pressed you down, onto his prominent erection. He watched how you whimpered, how your hands found themselves under the tight fabric of his shirt, pressing against his chest, feeling him.

Bucky smirked when he felt your hands moving down his chest, further down until you were rapidly undoing his pants and freeing his throbbing cock. He caught the way you whimpered under your breath at the sight of him, then you went on to wrap your hand around him, slowly stroking him, making him throw his head back and groan under his breath. “Fuck, that feels good, baby. That’s it, keep going.”

You leaned in close to him again, “I want you,” you whispered against his lips and then pressed your mouth to his. You slipped your tongue past his lips and slowly stroked the top of his mouth, unable to pretend any longer.

He growled into your mouth, into the kiss as his hands rubbed up and down your sides lovingly. “Take me then. I’m all yours.”

You didn’t waste any more time. You pulled away from the kiss briefly, lifting your lower body off his. Bucky helped by pulling your thin underwear to the side – both too impatient to properly take your clothes off – and he watched how you slowly lowered yourself down on his cock.

Your body resisted just a little to fit him inside, but then he pulled you down till you sank down on him completely, both of you moaning at the feeling.

Bucky grabbed your hips in place and gently thrust his hips up and you moaned wantonly as you felt him fill you up. “Fuck, baby… such a good girl for me.”

You whimpered as the tip of his cock reached sensitive places you never knew existed. You took a good look at the man beneath you. He was beyond beautiful. Lips parted, breathing heavily. It gave you a warm rush to see him this worked up knowing you were the reason why.

You moved faster then, impaling yourself down on his cock. You whimpered shamelessly as you felt him filling you up completely each time, feeling him reach deeper into you with each thrust. His metal hand slipped between the two of you and found your clit, he rubbed it lazily.

“This little cunt was made for me, wasn’t it?” He groaned, looking up to watch how you frowned in pleasure. “All for me…”

You leaned down to kiss him, biting down and tugging at his bottom lip while you sped up, and his cock stretched you out each time he filled you up. “You feel so good,” You mumbled.

Bucky pulled your warm body closer to his. Your lips brushed against his each time you moved up and down his cock. “You’re mine.” He said. “You hear me?”

You nodded, feeling him stretch you out as you stared into his eyes. Bucky held you at your waist and rhythmically thrust his hips up each time to match your movements. Brows furrowing and panting while you rode his cock.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He panted against your cheek, kissing the side of your face and gripping your jaw with his hand. “Tell me you’re mine to fuck, to love, and care for. Tell me.”

“All yours…” You didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, and he kept thrusting his hips up into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came, hard, feeling your walls squeezing and clenching around him as you came undone. You panted and leaned forward, pushing your face into his neck to catch your breath.

Bucky came right after you, his warm load spilling inside of you, filling you up as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed your trembling body closer to him.

You laid your head on his shoulder, catching your breath, as you thought of a lot of things. The main one being, you didn’t hate this at all. You wouldn’t mind if this was your daily life. Maybe it was the post-sex brain but, this felt so right and you didn’t ever want to leave this moment.

—

It was hard keeping your hands to yourselves for the following days. You and Bucky began sleeping in the same bed.

On days when the weather was good, Bucky would take you out and show you around the little town. It was cosy and perfect, and had the best bakeries in the world. Then he would take you to the many farms he owned, and you saw genuine happiness on his face. Like this calm life was indeed all he wanted.

And time just flew by. You no longer kept track of days.

One evening, Bucky asked, “Have you been in the maze yet?”

You linked your elbow to his as the two of you made your way downstairs, and said, “Not yet. It looks… I don’t know, intimidating. And it’s huge, I worry I’ll get lost.”

Bucky chuckled. “Want me to take you?”

“Right now? But it’s getting dark.”

“Come,” He led you to the front door, crossing the foyer, “It’s prettier at night anyway.”

It was dark out, but there were golden lights placed all around the tall hedge maze. It wasn’t too lit up but just enough to create the right ambiance and allow one to roam around comfortably. It was colder inside, you realised as you held onto Bucky’s hand and let him guide you deeper and deeper inside.

The fog was beginning to float around, settling just above the ground the deeper you went inside the maze. You shivered, despite the coat Bucky insisted you wore before stepping out of the house.

“Don’t be scared, baby.” Bucky reassured you as he wrapped his arm tighter around you. “I’m right here.”

The maze wasn’t creepy by any means. Like everything else on these grounds, it was hauntingly beautiful. Timeless. Like it knows too much, like it was alive and it remembered. It was inviting, even as you went deeper and deeper until you reached the middle. And faced the gigantic water fountain, in the middle of which, placed on a stone pedestal was the minotaur statue.

It felt alive too. Like he was waiting for a command to move.

The middle area was spacious, tidy and beautiful. With alcoves, benches, bird feeders, and brick pathways. And in the dark, with fog swirling around, it looked like a scene from a movie.

Bucky stood back and let you take it all in. He watched how you slowly walked around the fountain, admiring the intricate details, admiring the statue.

Then you asked, “Why the minotaur?” You stopped at the other side of the fountain, watching Bucky through the soft streams of water that fell.

Bucky smiled. “For dramatics, mostly. I like the myth.”

You chuckled. “I see.”

Bucky shoved his hands into his coat pockets and asked, “You ever wonder what truly happened to the maidens that were sent into the minotaur’s maze?”

“They were never seen again. He either ate or killed them according to the myths.” You answered.

He nodded, “Or maybe he didn’t hurt them. Maybe they just never wanted to leave.”

Ah. So he was speaking in riddles again. “Like how you don’t want me to ever leave?”

“You won’t.” He sounded too sure, yet again.

“You sound very sure.” You watched him carefully.

Bucky smiled, “You forget that I know you, doll. Better than you know yourself.” He paused, then added, “You find comfort in the darkness too.”

“Comfort?”

Bucky remained on the other side of the fountain as he spoke, the fog swirling around him almost like he ordered it to. “You think I don’t know you have trouble sleeping? That the nightmares bother you too? Of all the missions we’ve been on, the people we’ve had to kill for some greater good? Cities we demolished? Houses and families we tore apart? All in the name of being altruistic heroes?”

Suddenly you had trouble breathing.

Bucky continued, this time walking around the fountain and slowly getting closer to you, “That’s why you like running, isn’t it? You pretend you’re running from it all. You pretend you’re free. That you can finally escape it all and put an end to it. You run till your legs get numb, till your lungs burn. Till each breath hurts. So it can finally feel like well-deserved punishment.”

“Stop.” You audibly gasped for air this time, as your eyes began watering. You no longer felt the cold. No longer felt the dampness of the fog. Nothing, but the ache in your chest.

“I’ve been there, doll. No matter what you do, it doesn’t go away. The guilt doesn’t go away. Not until you stop and walk away from that life.”

“Bucky, please…” You turned around, not able to face him anymore as the tears fell down your cheeks. You heard him getting closer. You felt his warmth against your back as he placed his arms around you, pulling you in.

“Maybe that’s why the maidens never left the maze.” He said. “Maybe they realised that his darkness was better than the cruel world who reduced their pure hearts and souls to being mere sacrifices.”

The night had gotten colder somehow. The wind had picked up, like it was about to rain. The fog clinging to the hedges was thicker now.

“Stay with me.” He whispered into your ear. “It’s chaos out there. Stay here with me.”

You sniffled quietly. “I’m scared, Buck.”

The rain came then. Light drizzle, then slowly getting heavier. Bucky pulled you to the nearest alcove and kept you safe and warm between the stone wall and his muscular body, sheltering you from the rain.

“I’m here.” He reassured you.

“I’m scared.” You repeated, holding onto him like he was the only thing you’d ever hold.

Bucky pressed his lips against your forehead, “I know, baby. I know.” He murmured. “But I see you. You'll never have to pretend with me. I know you’re tired, of fighting, of being good and getting nothing in return. It’s okay to stop, baby. We’ll never have to fight or kill again.” He sounded hopeful. “We’ll be happy here.” So hopeful, and pure that it hurt. “I’m here, doll. It’s okay.”

You couldn’t help but kiss him. Bucky kissed you back ferociously, like he’d held back all those times before, but now he no longer could. His hands wandered, pulling your dress up quickly as he knelt in front of you before you could even process it.

He pressed his lips to your inner thighs, kissing you wherever he could as his fingers lowered your underwear down to your ankles. You stepped out of it as his mouth got closer and closer to your dripping core.

“Bucky…” You sighed, as you felt his breath against your wet folds. You couldn’t help but slide your fingers into his soft hair, as he brought his mouth over to your clit, sucking on it hard enough to make you squirm in pleasure, your back digging into the stone wall of the alcove.

His tongue slid up and down your folds, teasing your entrance, occasionally flicking your clit. “So fucking good,” He whispered, hands caressing and groping your thighs as he ate you out. His tongue slowly circled your throbbing clit.

He parted your legs further as he slowly brought a metal finger up to your clit, watching it sliding agonisingly slowly down your slit, parting your wet folds.

You shivered under his cold touch, then bit your lip to refrain from moaning too loudly. You sighed, then gasped audibly as he slid a metal finger inside you, stroking your walls gently while he placed his mouth back on your clit. “Please…” You begged, wanting more.

Lips brushing against your wetness he asked, “Will you promise to stay here with me? Forever?” He growled as you kept whining and squirming under his addicting touch, “Answer me.”

“Yes…” You whispered, breathless and wanting. “Yes, I will.” You moaned.

He smirked against your wet skin before standing back up, enjoying the way you whined in protest. “You’re mine.” He said.

You whined again, “Bucky, please…”

He chuckled and undid his pants before picking you up and kissing you deeply as he pinned you to the wall. Your legs wrapped around his waist and his cock briefly brushed against your wet folds, making you shiver at the brief contact.

You couldn’t take the teasing anymore. Moaning into the kiss you said, “Bucky please,” You begged, “I need you. I need you… please.” You whispered.

Bucky kissed down your neck, peppering it with kisses as he aligned his throbbing tip with your entrance. Slowly, he pushed himself into you. His fingers digging into your skin as he held you by your hips, and yours holding on to his shoulders as he filled you up nicely.

“This is all you wanted? Hmm?” He groaned, moving just the slightest bit. “You’re so perfect, baby.”

He held you up against him as he sped up into you. He dipped his head into the crook of your neck and mumbled, “You’ll always be mine.” He growled, “And we’ll be happy forever here.”

Behind him, just beyond the shelter of the alcove, the rain was getting heavier. Louder. But with your heartbeats echoing in your ears you could barely focus on it.

You whined just a little louder this time and his mouth soon found yours again. He nibbled on your bottom lip and you let out shaky breaths as he kept fucking into you relentlessly, earning more and more moans out of you each time his cock stroked your walls perfectly.

Bucky nibbled on the skin under your ear and you lost it. Your thoughts became cloudy and all you could focus on was his body and his cock inside of you.

You whimpered, “Can I please come?”

“Go on, baby.” He mumbled softly against your skin while he fucked you like an animal, “Come all over my cock,” He spoke, fucking you harder and deeper.

Your throbbing clit rubbed against his pelvic bone each time he buried himself completely in you and it was hard to even think coherently.

He quickened his pace, whispering, “Mine… ” in your ear as he pounded into you as fast as he could, your back slamming into the stone wall with each thrust.

You could hear the sounds of your skin slapping against each other over the heavy rain. Your legs started to shake around him as he quickened his pace, now pounding into you mercilessly.

“Come for me, doll.”

You couldn’t hold back anymore. So, you came undone around his cock, whining and whimpering. Walls clenching around him, nails scratching down his neck and a strained moan escaping your mouth as you came hard. More tears streaming down your face.

He came right after you did, cock throbbing against your pulsating walls, moaning into your ear when he felt your walls clenching violently around him.

He didn’t pull out immediately. He just kept his cock carefully buried in you. He relished your warmth and leaned in to kiss you again, passionately, much more gentle than before. “I’ve got you,” He murmured. “You’re safe with me.”

The epiphany of it all made you unable to stand on your two feet for too long. You briefly remembered Bucky carrying you all the way out of the maze, into the house and up the stairs.

You fully came back to your own body only after Bucky had submerged you in a warm bath. With him seated behind you and caressing your spent body.

“Are you okay, doll?”

You nodded, sitting with your back to his chest. “I’m okay.” You whispered.

Bucky’s hand rubbed your back in a soothing way that had you sighing in bliss. Then he said, “I’ll take you somewhere nice tomorrow.”

You smiled with your eyes closed, leaning into his touch. “Where?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“How many more secrets have you kept from me?”

He chuckled. “Enough that it would take you a lifetime to uncover them all.”

“You have a lot of faith in the durability of this relationship.” You teased.

“Hmm, I do.” He sighed as he left soft kisses all over the side of your face. Outside the rain was getting harsh and loud again. But here, everything was warm and perfect. “You can’t run from me.” He teased.

Couldn’t you? You sighed. Did you even want to anymore?

Maybe you would end up finding comfort in the darkness with him. In the familiarity of his arms. In the warmth of his touch and smiles. Hell, maybe you’d be willing to take the serum one day. But all that for later, being here was all that mattered right now.

You leaned your head back onto his shoulder, back pressing against his chest as you let him hold you.

A lifetime… yeah that didn’t sound too bad.

Bucky kissed your forehead as you leaned your head back, resting it on his shoulder. Safe, satisfied, and in his arms. He often dreamed of this. He kissed your forehead again as he smiled. He knew what you must be thinking about. He could almost hear it.

He knew you were having a slight hard time accepting all this, choosing it. The guilt would go away in time. He would do whatever it takes to help you adjust to your new life. And everything would be perfect then.

There was a small voice in his head that told him that he shouldn’t ignore the possibility that this could be a ruse. That you were playing along, trying to earn his trust, waiting for him to have his guard down so you could run from here.

Bucky smirked as he leaned his head back against the edge of the tub, his arms firm around you as you both soaked in the last few moments of the warm water before it got cold.

He wasn’t stupid, and you were a very smart woman, so of course he’d thought about that possibility. And though he knew the chances of this being true were very slim, he couldn’t just sit and wait. Could he? That’s why he took all the precautions he could beforehand.

He made sure, even if you were to leave him and run back to what used to be your ‘normal’ lives, that there was nothing left for you to go back to.

There was no one left. Another secret of his, tucked away.

But he would always be here for you. Bucky turned his head and kissed your forehead again. He vowed to love you enough that, like the maidens in the myths, you’d never want to leave his maze either.

Fin.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #marvel #avenger!reader

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charliemwrites · 4 months

Text

Uhhh this is sort of to get me back in the swing of writing since some people may have noticed I haven’t done much this week. It’s… it’s been a week, but that’s fine, those happen.

Anyway, concept comes from @ceilidho’s concept/drabble of “military asset Soap” and heavily inspired also by @391780’s Nikto version. Please go check out theirs because they’re brilliantly written.

(There will be a part 2 because this got longer than expected.)

CW for threats, dirty talk, objectification, and dubcon. Please stay safe! 💕

You thought you were done with this.

Got out by making the best of a bad situation. Honorable discharge following an injury after your last base was infiltrated. “Data analysts” (hackers) can’t have unpredictable hand spasms in the middle of time-sensitive decryptions. So, you got out.

And now you’re all but being dragged back.

You don’t recognize the two stone-faced men flanking you, but you recognize the woman they sit you in front of.

“Laswell.”

She doesn’t look older, but she looks more tired. Like she hasn’t slept since she informed you of your discharge.

“It’s good to see you again,” she says without smiling. It’s good to see you; it’s not good that you’re seeing her. “I wish it was… I wish this wasn’t the situation.”

You arch your eyebrows. Have never known her to speak without measuring the exact dimensions of her words first. She always slides them into spaces perfectly designed for them, builds towers and forts out of syllables.

There’s a treacherous unintentional volume to the word “this” that prickles across your neurons.

“And what’s ‘this’ exactly?” you ask.

“A recently recovered asset,” she explains. You expect a dossier of some kind to be set in front of you. She links her fingers together on top of her desk and looks you in the eye. “He’s asking for you.”

You blink. Never was any good at staring contests with anything but a screen.

“And who,” you speak slowly, poking at the edges of whatever she’s hedging around, “is he?”

A pause, heavy enough to slowly start pressing the air from your lungs.

“Do you remember John MacTavish?” she asks.

You frown, rifling through mental files.

John MacTavish of Task Force 141. Soap. You remember liking him, even though he made a shy, anti-social part of you uneasy. He had a starting problem, and a smiling problem. Or maybe you were the one with the problem - with the way he would often stare and sometimes smile.

You taught him how to find files out in the field. How to take from the enemy and corrupt entire systems. He was good at it. A digital pyromaniac. Used to hand-deliver drives and disks to you, sometimes still bloody and bruised from getting them.

You heard through the gossip vine that he was MIA (or maybe went AWOL?) at some point. Was shipped out to your final assignment soon after.

“Is he the… asset?” you ask.

Her eyes do this funny flicker thing then, and the corner of her mouth tenses. You press your thumb into your palm as your fingers twitch.

“He’s asking for you,” she explains, “and he has information we need.”

Between the lines: we need you to get the information from him. The error code flashing in your mind demands to know why.

“Why?” you wonder.

Maybe you’ve been out too long; forgot that “why” is blasphemy to the government. The answer will always be “because we said so.”

You already miss being out.

“You’ll have to ask him yourself,” she answers and stands.

—

Laswell takes the lead, the same blank-faced guards bring up the rear. This doesn’t feel like you’ve been volun-told to do them a favor. It feels like you’ve been sentenced without a trial.

You’re led down silent, nondescript halls, through heavy gray doors, and into shiny metal elevators. Everything needs a keycard you’ve not been given. The quiet gets heavier, meaner the deeper you go.

There’s the vague sense that you’re underground when Laswell finally stops at a heavily guarded door. She pauses, steals a glance at you that starts a high-pitched alarm in your head.

“He’s different now,” she says finally, “I’m sorry in advance.”

A guard unlatches the door. She nods you ahead to enter first. You hesitate, don’t like the change in light beyond. Behind you, one of the guards shifts. Don’t like that either.

On tingling legs, you slink through the cracked door. It shuts with a gavel’s finality behind you. Alone.

The room you’ve been tricked into barely deserves the word. It’s more a tiny patch of sequestered floor, little bigger than an office cubicle. Clean linoleum and unmarked walls. In the corner, a camera blinks.

But in front of you are bars; a wall of them. A door interrupting the grid-pattern. Beyond, it’s pitch black. You almost make the mistake of stepping forward.

“Stay there,” Laswell’s voice commands. Staticky. An intercom.

From the shadows, a growl. Low, rough. Just this side of human. You plaster yourself to the door you came through, hair standing on end.

The lights come on. It’s only because you’ve frozen that you don’t scream, all of it trapped up in a constricted throat.

The man in front of you is not Soap. It’s not even John MacTavish. It’s a very convincing beast wearing his face. Sort of.

More scars than you remember. A thicker beard too. His signature Mohawk is just a suggestion in the dark brown mess of his hair - like he’s been running his hands through it and ripping out any tangles along the way.

He’s not moving now though. Not except the deep heave of his broad chest. Could be a statue save for that. He’s staring; his eyes are bluer than you remember. Bluer and blanker. Nothing in them except a flicker of something vicious, something covetous. Something that’s peering out from this man.

“We brought her, just like you asked.” Laswell’s voice again, wary and expectant.

Soap doesn’t respond. He inhales deep, gaze still locked with yours. It’s loud, purposeful. Your stomach twists.

“Just as sweet as I remember.” His voice is gravel on ice, resonates in his barrel chest. Fills up the room like a rockslide. You curl your fingers against the door behind you. “You remember me, bonnie?”

It takes your brain a second to realize he’s talking to you. As if he could be speaking to anyone else. Your shadow maybe; she’s always been braver than you.

His eyes twitch, narrowing ever so slightly. His patience winding down, tick, tick, tick.

You jerk your head in a nod. His eyes burn.

“Good.” He cracks his neck. It feels entirely inorganic that he can move just that part of his body. “Would have to punish you if you didn’t.”

You swallow, dig up your voice from the crevice it slunk into.

“Laswell.” Your voice is too high, too nervous. Soap bares his teeth, slams his fist against the all-too-bendable barrier between you two. It shocks you, frightens you. How he could be so still and then so alive all at once.

“John, we brought her. That was the deal.”

You feel sick with something unspoken as he shakes his head.

“No, the deal was you give her to me. Do you see my fuckin’ hands on ‘er? My teeth?”

“The information first.”

You feel sick with rage. Like you’re going to throw up with the disgust that poisons your blood. Your legs nearly give out as you slide to the ground, pressing a hand over your mouth, filling with saliva. Stomach rolling.

Force yourself to breathe through your nose. Would work better if you could close your eyes but prey instinct won’t let you, survival too strong to dare look away from the predator now pacing at the bars. He’s agitated, devolving quickly into anger. You’d tell Laswell to stop pissing him off if that didn’t mean tossing you to him. More than she has, anyway.

“We will take her back if you don’t deliver your end of the deal.”

Like you’re some reward to be given and taken at someone else’s will. An incentive for good behavior.

The military used to make you feel like a dog - sit, stay, bark on command. But you’d take that over being the training treat any day.

Soap snarls. He sounds feral. Spits out a set of numbers, eyes pinned to you. When he’s done, he crouches down. Knees against the wall of bars.

“S’alright, little bird. C’mere and I’ll make it all better,” he coos, beckoning you with two fingers.

You press your lips together against a whimper. His expression twitches. You suck in a breath—

“We’ll need to verify those coordinates first,” Laswell says.

The noise that rips out of Soap makes you shake. You didn’t know people could make sounds like that; like something with teeth and claws and blood matted in its fur. He stands, huge and terrifying.

He curses and threatens (awful, cruel) but Laswell doesn’t respond again. You doubt she’s even listening. And you just stay still and quiet, hoping to avoid his attention altogether, pancaked to the wall.

As is the pattern today, your reasonable hope is eventually dashed. Can almost feel the exact moment Soap’s attention refocuses on you. Like a the click of switch.

And he’s down again, crooning at you so sweetly. Like you didn’t just watch him come within a breath of destroying his cell.

“You know it’s not fair, don’t you,” he murmurs. “You know that I’m owed you. C’mere.”

“I’m not a thing,” you snip, still too high. Almost petulant if not for the frightened crack in the middle. He flashes teeth.

“‘Course you are, hen,” he says, almost laughing. You realize with a jolt that you’ve amused him. “You’re my sweet, pretty thing with the sweet, pretty cunt that I’m gonna fuck and breed.”

Your voice slithers back into the abyss, snatched away by the smoke and shadow promises in his own.

“And you know that’s what you’re for, don’ you?” he continues, voice dripping lower and lower. “You know that you’re mine.”

You shake your head, want to explain that you didn’t have a choice. Government goons have been shuffling you about from place to place, only the illusion of free will, like horse blinders. Keeping you docile and complacent.

You don’t think Soap cares about things like logic or personhood right now though. Or at all.

“Come. Here.”

Hard metal between you, and every atom in your body screams not to comply. So you don’t.

When you shake your head, he snarls and slams his fist into the barrier again. You squeak this time, can’t help it, and try to become one with the wall.

He rages for a few minutes. Demands you, your compliance. At some point you just have to draw your knees up to your chest and lean your head against them. If he could get through, he would have by now. Let his anger become a terrifying background noise, a soundtrack for fear.

It’s when he goes quiet again that the fear returns. Your head snaps up. He’s staring again, still. Just like before. His arms are crossed - biceps huge, straining. There’s a sizable bulge pressed against the bars. Obscene.

“Best get your rest now, little girl,” he rumbles. Even and deceptively calm. “Because when that door opens, I’m not gonna be nice about it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Stop it.”

A puff of air. You can’t tell if it’s amused or annoyed. “Say it while you can, ‘cause it won’t make a difference later.”

You shudder through your next inhale, heart pounding. Try to wrestle yourself under control, convince yourself that Laswell won’t actually give you up to him. Not when she’s already gotten what she wanted from him.

A sound breaks you from your frantic meditation, slick and wet. You look up without thinking. Soap is fucking viciously into his fist, eyes trained on you. The head of his cock is flushed an angry red, dripping with precum, shiny and needy.

“Regret being a little bitch now?” he growls. “Now that you see what’s going in that prissy little cunt?”

You clench and cramp at the very thought. He’s massive, not just long but thick. You wouldn’t be shocked if your fingers didn’t touch wrapped around him — not that you should be considering those logistics. It’ll just freak you out more.

“Can smell your wet pussy from here, hen. Bet I’ll knock you up on the first try.” He squeezes almost cruelly, knuckles banging against the bars as his hips jerk.

You press your thighs together, trying not to think about it. Not to think about all that bulk pinning you down and using you. Big, rough hands and sharp, mean teeth while he—

“Stop,” you grit out, to yourself this time.

His breath shudders, a rough noise dragging up his throat. You twitch back as cum splatters the floor, coats the metal in milky drops. You stare at the mess, mortified.

“Well?” he rasps and your eyes snap back to his. “Going to lick it up like the bitch you are?”

You swallow and curl up tighter. He takes that for the denial it is.

“S’alright,” he says, “you’ll get a taste soon enough.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #dark fic #asset soap #asset John soap MacTavish #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader

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