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#you say it has nothing to do with you but what happens when the violence id turned toward you and your country?
jadeylovesmarvelxo · 2 days
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Eddie gets beaten on by Jason and his crew and Reader (who has a crush on him) sees him limping to his van and she walks over to him and helps him into the van, drives him home and then does her best to patch him up and help him, maybe ending with a sweet kiss? Request by @somethingvicked
Mentions of violence, blood. Little bits of angst sprinkled with fluff and a speechless Eddie. mdni.
Eddie x fem!reader.
🖤
Not canon compliant because Jason is alive in this for story purposes, Vecna is gone for good though. Bye bye you grinchy ass looking bitch 💁‍♀️
🖤
The first hit came before Eddie could even dodge it. Jason's fist hits his face with precision, then another blow to his stomach doubles Eddie over.
"We all know you killed Chrissy and the others, you freak, I don't give a shit what the chief of police said, you did it" Jason's face is red with fury, lost in a haze of violence. One of his friends holds Eddie's arms around his back, so he can't defend himself.
Which is when Eddie has the extremely dumb idea to use his head to smash into Carver's nose. It works in the fact that it sends him stumbling back...doesn't help the pain he's already feeling though, the force of the hit sends another wave of agony through him.
Fuck, did he actually break his nose on Carver's face?
He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, he did not survive almost getting eaten alive by demobats to get killed by Jason and his friends. Jason stumbles to his feet and the grip on his shoulders tightens courtesy of David and Liam.
"Tell me what you did to her, Munson! Say it, you fucking asshole" Jason screams at him, Eddie wants to tell him everything, everything that went down during Spring Break, the Demobats, The Upside Down, Vecna. All of it.
But he can't. Nda's were signed and let's be real, Jason wouldn't believe him even if Eddie did tell the truth. He was still trying to wrap his head around it himself. "I didn't hurt her man. I didn't hurt any of them I swear it" Eddie chokes out. His ribs are aching and he's sure his bandages have come loose.
There's another thump that catches him off guard, hits the sensitive spots where the bats tore into him and he's blinking back tears of pain.
He expects another blow to knock him off his feet but when he looks up Jason's fist is cocked and he's in position to hit Eddie again but the hit doesn't come. Instead, Jason's face crumples in pain and he drops his hand, within seconds Eddie is tossed unceremoniously onto the floor and Jason and his friends are gone.
What the fuck?
He doesn't know how he does it but he manages to drag his ass up into a standing position and limps all the way to his van, tries to calm his racing heart and figures a smoke might settle his nerves.
His fingers are shaking as he tries to light up, then he almost drops it when a soft voice comes out of nowhere.
"Are you okay?"
🖤
You saw Eddie limping to his van just as you were ready to bike home. Even from where you were you could see the blood on his shirt. Jason and his friends must have caught up to him, you have no doubt about it.
Everyone knew what happened at Spring Break, at least with the murders. How Eddie was blamed then cleared, Hawkins finding the real culprit Henry Creel, a deranged serial killer.
To be honest you never believed that Eddie had anything to do with the murders in the first place, there were rumours about the state of the bodies, bones broken and twisted in ways that couldn't be natural, eyeballs sunken in and jaws broken. It was the stuff of nightmares.
Some idiots thought that Eddie was a vessel for satan and that's what Dungeons and Dragons was about, a satanic ritual. It was ridiculous. Your friend's cousin played D&D and it was just a fantasy game. Nothing satanic about it.
Without thinking you head over to Eddie. Maybe you could help? You were a whiz with first aid and he looked like he needed patched up and like he could use a friend. Quietly you approach him as he tries to light his cigarette, his hands are shaking so you reach out to steady them.
"You okay?" He peers up at you, big brown eyes wide and kinda like a deer in headlights, he really was beautiful. Normally being this close to someone you had a crush on for almost the whole school year would be mortifying but you were more worried about his injuries than your racing heart right now.
"Hi Eddie" you murmur and he's still gawking at you but accepts your help to light the cigarette, watches you curiously as he takes the first drag.
"Uh hi sweetheart" you and Eddie talked a few times, every time you did he would have a cheeky smile (all dimples) and a cute nickname for you. It did not help with your crush one bit, even though he probably called everybody some sort of nickname, it still made your heart skip a beat.
"Carver did a number on you" you wince as you take in the cuts and bruises on his arm, the blood on his face "I can drive you home, take a look at the injuries?" He nods and tosses you his keys.
You help Eddie into the van as best as you can then head inside. He gives you directions to head to his trailer and you get him there and inside with minimal fuss.
"Okay, you'll need to take your shirt off" you murmur as Eddie points you in the direction of a first aid kit. Eddie grins, "Trying to get me naked or something princess?" he teases and you do your best to hide how flustered you are.
It wasn't your fault, his eyes were so pretty and the way his voice deepened at the end of the sentence gave you butterflies. Shit. This was so not the time.
You locate the first aid kit and get out new bandages, wipes and plasters, scissors and painkillers.
When you head back into Eddie's room he's propped up on the bed. He's shirtless, tattoos on full display and from your vantage point you can see some scars where his bandages have fallen off, silvery scars that look a lot like bite marks...
Eddie looks nervous which is rare for him so you don't comment on the scars, you're curious though but don't want to push. "Do they still hurt?" you ask quietly and his smile dims just a bit.
"A little, not as bad as when it first happened though, fucking bats" he curses then his gaze widens as it meets yours. Bats?
"Bats?" you probe gently and make sure that his bandages are secure again, from the small peeks that you can see, the bite marks are healing but still red, some are healed or are silvery scars. It looks like he was mauled, the thought makes your hands shake.
He sighs, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you princess" your heart skips a beat again but you ignore that, still curious what he means.
"Yeah? Try me. Any person in this stupid town can see that it's cursed or something isn't right" Eddie bites his lips and he looks like he wants to tell you, he really does.
"I wish I could sweetheart but it's uh complicated, nda's and cover-ups and shit" Oh. Well shit. "But yeah bats, big bats, not cute ones either but ugly little shits with super sharp teeth and claws. I can let you know that much"
You're stunned but then some of the things that you've heard Dustin say to Jason and other people who don't believe that Eddie's innocent come back to you.
"He's not a murderer. He's a hero. You stupid assholes don't deserve what he did for you"
So Eddie was protecting the town? Dustin too and maybe other people were involved? You smile and begin to clean up Eddie's cuts. "Hmm, Dustin's right then" Eddie looks confused and you lean forward to clean the blood on his nose.
"Oh yeah? What did the little butthead say?" he asks with a fond expression, you giggle at his tone. Like Dustin is his little brother or something, it's sweet. It's sweet how he looks after people in Hellfire Club, and it pisses you off that people just think he's a freak and don't look past their stupid prejudices to see how good Eddie is.
"That you're a hero. I believe that Eddie Munson, then again I've always thought you were a hero" it's Eddie's turn to be speechless as he gawks at you.
"You think I'm a hero?" he looks like he can't believe that anyone would ever think that about him and it hurts your heart so much.
"Well yeah, anyone who takes lost sheep under their wing and protects them like you do? Or risks his life for a town that can't see past their own stupid prejudices to see what's really happening? Yeah, I think you're a hero Eddie" your speech is impassioned and a bit of a rant so you're breathless, eyes sparkling at the end of it.
Once again Eddie is speechless but not for the reasons you think. "You're beautiful" he murmurs awed and you're flustered once again. Damn it.
"Maybe the hero gets the girl?" he asks softly and there goes your traitor heart again. Does he mean you? Or some other girl maybe. The thought hurts your heart but you plaster a smile on your face.
"I'm not sure any girl could resist those pretty eyes Eddie" a faint blush coats his cheeks at your compliment and he fakes a swoon, smiles at you all dimples and cuteness.
"Flattery works with me princess, not only am I a hero but I also have pretty eyes" you giggle at his overdramatic gestures.
He's all patched up now so he puts his shirt back in and a funny tension hangs in the air. "So, uh would you like to hang out again? when I'm not all beat up and shit. Maybe Friday?" Oh. You beam and nod feeling shy all of a sudden.
"Like a date?" you ask hopefully and he's still blushing faintly. It's so cute and you're sure tonight you're going to be squealing over every interaction the two of you had.
"Yeah, a date princess, he moves closer and the way he's looking at you is sending your heart into overdrive. "can, can I kiss you?" He asks and you nod, wanting nothing more than to press your lips against his plush pink ones.
He strokes your cheek and then his lips meet yours, it starts off gentle and hesitant, then it deepens and you gasp pulling him closer. You both come away a little bit dazed and you giggle as he flops dramatically on the bed.
"Now that was some kiss sweetheart, he beams at the sound of your giggles, when you sober up you bite your lip and decide to tell him a secret.
"I never thought you'd notice me" you say it quietly but he still hears it and gapes like you've truly stunned him this time.
"Seeing your pretty smile dragged me out of bed most days sweetheart, even more than d&d but that's our little secret" he winks and you make a zipping motion. Before you leave Eddie pulls you into another kiss then another.
Okay, so maybe you could be a little late to return your movie at Family Video if it meant kissing Eddie some more.
🖤💌
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fractualized · 3 days
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In "Perp Walk", what do you think Bruce means when he says Joker "made him better"?
I have a few answers to this, starting with how the comic places the dialogue over visuals that, despite the lack of Red Hood, appear to recount Joker's fall into the vat.
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[Batman: the Brave and the Bold #13]
Bruce had been Batman for some time before that night. I believe it's usually a year or so? But anyway, he says that he started out thinking of himself as a symbol of fear and justice, and note that "justice" is positioned over the fall into the vat. Initially this feels like it indicates the fall is a deserved consequence, but then the next panel with Bruce pulling Joker out, says, "Joker changed all that." As in Joker made him rethink his approach of focusing on fear and justice, which puts a different light on the "justice" panel, implying that it was anything but. Joker was only fleeing from a robbery that night, after all.
As the page goes on, the panels focus the pain and horror of Joker's transformation and Bruce's reaction to it. Bruce's face first looks determined, then shifts to wide-eyed surprise, and then appears understandably disturbed by the acid eating away at Joker's face. And over this, Bruce says that Joker changed him. Certainly over the years Joker pushed Bruce to confront greater threats than he ever imagined, but with this imagery, I also take this remark to mean that Bruce had to rethink being a force only of fear and justice. Even if Joker refused to be a beneficiary of any compassion Batman offered, Bruce saw firsthand how reacting to crime only with intimidation and violence compounded the problem he was trying to address.
We can also zoom out to the meta perspective. Joker has been Bruce's primary nemesis since 1940, and a hero is only as impressive as the challenges they overcome. The Clown Prince of Crime's schemes escalate higher and higher as time goes on, and Bruce continues to deliver defeat after defeat. It's this perseverence as a nonpowered hero that's made Batman a figure of hope to so many people, and of course contributed his indelible mark on pop culture. (And yes I still say this as someone who constantly talks about how insane he is.)
Joker making Batman better has been mentioned in comics before this, of course. A recent example is Snyder's Death of the Family storyline, in which Joker insists to Batman that his human connections make him soft, and that he was a better Batman when he was a loner.
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[Batman (2011) #13]
You know how you help your pal and get back to how things used to be by trying to convince him to kill his own family.
Obviously Bruce does not do that, and he protests that his family makes him better. And yet throughout this whole ordeal, Bruce has to rise above and use all his skills to stop Joker like always.
Joker pushing Batman happens again not too many years after that in Tynion's Joker War. Through elaborate machinations, Joker takes away Bruce's fortune, his main resource in fighting, incapacitates him, and unleashes anarchy, like ya do. In their final confrontation, Joker gives this speech about his reasoning:
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[Batman (2016) #100]
All this talk about how Bruce doesn't even understand the city, and yet Joker's endgame here is to force Batman to start over from nothing. He expects Bruce to get back up again, to work at correcting his mistakes.
Of course, Joker ends up defeated. But in the next issue, Bruce says that in some ways, Joker was correct:
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[Batman (2016) #101]
And Bruce does make some changes, such as moving from the manor to the brownstone in the city to live among the people he protects.
Now, considering the context, one may return to Bruce's appreciation in "Perp Walk" and think, "Hey, Bruce, you remember Joker killed people, right?" Yes! Welcome to batjokes.
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a-spes · 1 day
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| BUT YOU SHALL BE MINE - Drabble (1.006 words).
| Summary - you've lost. the final battle against the scarlett witch finally came, and you've lost. all the world's greatest heroes are dead, except you.
| Tags & warning - Scarlett witch x R, enemies, wanda is dark, everyone is dead (oops), a bit of angst with twisted comfort (don't even know if it can be called comfort honestly), description of dead bodies, mentions of blood/death/violence/heavy injuries.
| MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING
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You made a terrible mistake when you didn't die.
Not that it was your choice, you've just had a bit of luck. That's what most people would think, but in your opinion it was more of a sentence. It was nothing more than a cruel joke from the universe, because what's a life where everyone you cherish is dead?
You won't even be able to bury them because there is no bodies to pick up. Only dust, or bits of those you love. You wouldn't even be able to tell what belong to whom — Could that be Tony's arm? Or maybe it belongs to Steve? You are not even sure it's a arm. It could be a leg, or rubble. In that state, it's difficult to say.
But maybe it's better that way. You have never been the strongest one, you would've never been able to carry all their bodies homes. Steve could've, he has a super strenght. Stark would've invented something, or perhaps paid people to help him. But you? You have nothing special. No powers, no skills above the average, nothing except your luck.
You somehow always manages to get out of impossible situations. From being able to escape Nat' when she is angry to survive deadly situations, nothing serious has ever happened to you. You've always seen that as a gift, but it turned out to be a curse.
Your second mistake was to try to get up.
Maybe if you didn't she wouldn't have noticed your presence. You knew you should've hide between two corpse, no matter how disguting that idea was, because maybe you would've escape her gaze. But you couldn't think properly, and condamned yourself the moment you moved. A faint, and painful move, which earned you what? Nothing, because you weren't even able to do more than resting of your forearms before slipping, head first into the mud.
It was painful, and humiliating, but not as much as knowning that there was nothing you could do to avenge your friends. At least, they died as heroes, trying to save humanity, and even if they failed, that's how the world is going to remember them as. They will be martyrs, and you'll be nothing. No one would remember the name of the Avengers' shadow that died squirming on the ground like a worm.
Somehow, you still had that spark in your heart, the urge to fight, but it was useless. If a whole army failed to defeat her, how could you? Maybe your body knew it because it doesn't respond to your requests anymore. You could hardly move your fingertips.
When your vision darkened, you thought it was the end of your pain. It's not that you could see anything anyway. On kilometers, there was nothing but desolation. Bodies piled up, the ones of your friends. Smoke raising in the sky, making you cought violently. And that red mist, the reason for all your woes. It was all blurred because of your tears before the world fade away.
"Ah, look at you," the woman said. That's when you realize that you didn't lose your eyes, her shoes were just blocking your view. "You're covered in blood, broken and lost, but yet ...," she chuckled before resuming her sentence, "you still think you can do something against me. How cute is that," she said, her tone dripping with false pity. Or maybe it was genuine, which only make the situation more humiliating for you.
"You are brave one though," she added, not noticing that you weren't listening. You couldn't, even if you wanted. Your mind was fuzy, and you ears were ringing due to explosions. "The last one standing ..., you should be proud, you know, not everyone can last that long against me," which is why she has been surprised when she felt an ounce of life. She thought her battle was over, that all forms of life had been exterminated for miles around, but it turned out that one hero was still standing.
Not the strongest or bravest one, but still the last one to breath. She kneels beside you, surprised that the last awakened soul resides in such a fragile-looking body. But the woman wasn't oblivious, and she could feel that there was more than that behind those pretty eyes. She wanted to believe that if the last person standing was such an innocent woman, it wasn't by chance. She saw it as a gift from the universe. At that thought, a smile spread across her face. A sweet and caring one, as comforting as the hand she is now running across your cheek. The one you're leaning on, appreciating that ounce of sweetness in your ocean of pain, not having enough energy to care about the person who's giving it to you. Her thumbs brushing your tears away, soothing you as if she wasn't the cause of your pain.
"Such a pretty face ...," she mumbled, "so much potential wrapped in that fragile body," she continued, her words slipping out of your ears until she eventually straightens up. "You know what? The realm of the dead probably won't mind if I keep one soul for myself," she conclued, considering that the small whimper that escaped your lips was an acknowledgement of her statement.
With a flick of the wrist, she envelops you in that red glow you hate so much. Slowly, your body is torn from the earth where your friends lie for the eternity. The red mist takes all the pain away, but also your chances of salvation.
"It's okay, you can rest now, my little soldier," she whispers, and those are the last words you can hear before the world disappears. The last two living creature leaving this desolate land behind in a second, as if they've never been here.
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| REQUEST GUIDELINES — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING
| Tag list - @m0nsterqzzz
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It says a ton about Vivziepop’s writing that when watching the latest episodes I was both
1) rooting for the C.H.E.R.U.B.S to win because then it would shake up the status quo and actually make it so that their screentime was justified but knew it wouldn’t happen because she hates that
2) Fully prepared for Stolas to do his full demon mode at the moment where Blitz confronted him because all signs were pointing to that (the red and black colors, Blitz fighting back for once and out of Stolas’s version of him) and in a better show where he was still the villain signify a big turning point in their relationship
Yeah there are no stakes at all. And ykw? That actually worked in season 1. Hear me out, while there were some exceptions like Striker as a threat, in S1 in the first cherubs episode the stakes were really just whether they’d be able to do the job for their client or not. Or the stakes were things like the bet in spring broken. There were episodes with danger like with DHORKS but even then, the agents were played as idiots and the serious/“omg what’s gonna happen next” type of focus never really actually was on them. Rather it was on the character drama that was sprinkled between the whacky antics, and the character drama was the actual thing that held weight, how character relationships would change etc. HB has always been a dual character drama and whacky action/comedy that mixes in silly moments with serious. This can make the tone difficult and arguably it’s always had a tone problem, like with the bullying of Moxxie being both a joke and his insecurity being something that’s supposed to be taken seriously. But I would say it mostly worked in S1.
The character drama was usually mostly resolved by the episodes end like at the end of Harvest Moon, Moxxies relationship with Millie’s parents improved. Or the character drama was shown but was deliberately left unresolved or was only half addressed in an “acceptable” way because it was such a big thing that was being shown. Blitz’s feelings towards Stolas in the drug trip for example - that’s something that would take more than 1 episode to resolve. Same I would say with Loonas feelings towards Blitz being overbearing in S1, they were shown and semi addressed but still left open to future development.
The less extreme stakes if IMP lost combined with the character drama in S1 made the stakes actually feel higher. I think it’s because losing a job to the cherubs or a bet feels more believable while you know they wouldn’t just kill off a main character. Also, the spring broken bet was related to Blitz’s past with Verosika. It was related to the character drama.
But when the characters are fighting for their very lives… you know they’re not gonna die. The violence in the DHORKS S1 ep felt fun because it was basically just a cool montage designed to look flashy and show our faves being cool and violent. And the whole plot of the episode was that they got caught by demon hunters. You still knew that they probably wouldn’t die and nothing too serious would happen but it didn’t feel like the violence was actively in the way of the drama as much. It wasn’t supposed to be that serious in the first place so you watched it more as just something fun instead of being supposed to actually take it seriously as a threat.
I think Full Moon encapsulates a lot of the serious problems with HB S2 relating to all the above. We knew that there was going to be a huge drama at the end of the episode. So all the violence and antics that exist for comedy or the sake of fun violence become just a roadblock cluttering the eventual actual point of the episode. They become an annoyance. It’s a lot harder to enjoy comedy and action when it’s actively working against and is in the way of the shows other half instead of complimenting it. In S1 before going back to antics they managed to mostly clear up the drama or we understood it was on the back burner because it was so big/would be addressed slowly over time and therefore the comedy and action felt less like it was in the way. Or the action was the character drama more - like the Striker/Blitz talk in Harvest Moon about class and the assassination. I just think the interspersing of comedy/action and drama is so bad lately. The S1 Cherubs episode knew that it was going to focus heavily on antics and so it didn’t bother with character drama. And it was so much better off for it! While Full Moon drags us through DHORKS, Cherubs, so much clutter all at once and all of it impedes and gets in the way of the St*litz shit instead of complimenting it. Why not do an episode that just focuses on those 2 and save DHORKs and the cherubs for a full relaxed comedy episode? Why can’t we have only or mostly comedy episodes anymore?
The drama also felt more precious and meaningful when it was rare. You really got on the edge of your seat because it was a scarce thing you didn’t see often and reminded you these whacky assassins were still complex characters behind the comedy. Now, a lot of the time it feels like it repeats over and over. Moxxie’s constant repeated supposed arc of feeling underestimated is especially guilty of this.
Compare Full Moon to the Ozzie’s ep as well. I feel like that episode built up the eventual drama that was going to happen and given the serious heavy drama they were addressing, they made it the entire episode’s focus and as the first half of a season finale that was fitting. It felt more like the episodes knew what they wanted to be - it’s just too bad we never got a sequel episode that actually wrapped up Ozzies. Instead we went back to the St*litz status quo, and we were supposed to ignore all that drama and go back to focusing on antics. Not addressing that conflict was so god awful and is another example of how the drama clashes so badly with the other stuff in the show since S2.
HB right now, in order to be all about St*litz, is caught in this stupid thing of desperately trying to still be a whacky violent comedy at all yet the drama is more and more serious and the show becomes more and more about only the drama. So this means whenever the antics come on they’re getting in the way of the drama instead. And it means the other drama that was set up like Loonas issues have been flushed down the toilet -_- I’m so tired.
I’ve gone on so long omg anon sorry for an insanely long response I won’t say too much about your other point but you’re absolutely right. I’ve seen people saying that a better show would have made St*las an antagonist instead and honestly… I have to agree. That scene really shows you what could have been if he was allowed to be the antagonist he acts like imo.
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explainslowly · 2 days
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Semi-random manga rec based on looking at what I rated 10/9/8 on myanimelist like a decade ago
For your benefit I am going to eschew the stuff I see discussed on tumblr all the time. Like by this point no one needs me to tell them that like, Junji Ito is good, right? Right.
The water is just fine:
Hikaru no Go - now this one used to be pretty big in fandom spaces but it was like fifteen years ago so I don't feel bad bringing it up. It's a sports shonen about a boy falling in love with Go and growing up through finding his passion in it. A classic bildungsroman type of shonen narrative but executed with finesse. Also illustrated by the same guy who drew Death Note if that sweetens the pot.
Kekkaishi - do you guys like a fun little shonen about creatures and youth with magic powers and shit? This one is simply a pleasure to read as well as well paced. I especially appreciate a somewhat strict magical/power system. Maybe it's nothing insanely special but I do feel it has been somewhat overlooked so I put it on this list.
Hourou Musuko - this one got an anime fairly recently (*checks notes* uhhh. In 2011. Nvm, kill me) so people might know it. But hey, you guys want a sweet little manga story about a teen trans girl and her gaggle of friends? Of course you do. This managaka generally writes a lot of stories about queer ppl, so feel free to check out all her work.
Ashita no Ousama - bildungsroman, but for the girlssss. It's a story about a young girl moving to the city and falling in love with theater and writing. I am simply a sucker for stories about people finding their passion and working at it.
Getting deeper:
Blame! - again, a recommendation that would sound sooooo silly like twenty years ago but Tsutomu Nihei is simply not in the public eye the way he used to be. The pleasure of this manga is to a large extent visual. But you guys do want to see a trek through a crazy technological landscape, don't you?
Bokurano - Mangaka is a known sicko and this fucked up little story about feeding children to the war machine is a good entry point. What if Evangelion was even more evil? Now you can find out.
Monster - the Naoki Urasawa story that really put him on the map. I think people say that 20th century boys is superior but why not start at the source? Psychological/mystery story especially suited for people who can set aside their reservation when the psychology gets a little dubious with it (if that's a line you don't cross, do go on and check out 20th century boys instead)
Now we are getting somewhere:
Shigurui - Anyone here looking for an awe-inspiring visual orgy of violence? Anyone?
Dainippon Tengutou Ekotoba - I am outrigh obsessed with this mangaka's visual style. The thick, bold brush lines make me craaaazy. This is as good as any entry into their work, I think - a urban fantasy story about Tengus living in the modern world.
National quiz - looking for a zany distopian sci-fi with great visuals? Look no more!! I don't remember the details of what happens in this one but I remember it being strange and interesting, so do check it out.
Soil - what if Twin Peaks was a manga? Well, it's not one to one, but this too is a story about a small town and fucked up bizarre shit happening in it. Also incredible art, in my opinion.
Shintaro Kago - making an exception here and mentioning a guy instead of a specific work. The thing about Kago is that he shines in writing bizarre short stories, so ultimately you really could start anywhere with him.
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i-am-baechu · 2 days
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Chapter Eight
Wishes (M) (Season One) 
Summary: After a long day of classes, Min Yoongi decides to take a break at the music hall that has become his second home. He walks in with his cigarette lit and his blank expression quickly changes when he sees a girl playing his piano. The moment their eyes meet, their lives become complicated and Yoongi blames himself for her future pain. Was the love we had honest? 
Genre: Gang au!, college au!,  strangers to enemies (one-sided), strangers to lovers, slow burn, friendships, romance, angst,  little comedy, and smut
Main pairing: Gang leader! Min Yoongi x Pianist! Reader 
Warnings: Explicit language, smut, mature themes, gangs, violence, smoking cigarettes, drugs, and alcohol usage 
Author's note: I worked really late in the past two days and I had to stay longer! I’m sorry this is late but something big happens in this chapter to make up lol 
⇜ Masterlist ⇝
There’s something about the silence that's comforting. It’s this unspoken feeling that makes you feel at home. There’s no one to take it away and it's something that never changes. It’s always there. No matter how hard you try. Even in moments when you're with people that make you feel something, silence is always there. You're the one to blame for the silence and you have to take responsibility before things get worse. Before things get worse...
Y/N stared at him and it was a look that he never wanted to see, “Y/N...” 
“You lied to me...You’ve been lying to me.” 
“I did it-”
“Don’t repeat it. I trusted you...all this for what? To make me look like an idiot?” 
Yoongi shook his head and brought her into him as she tried to push him away, “You're not an idiot...don’t ever say that about yourself.” He glanced down at her to see her standing still and he wiped the blood off of her forehead, “Y/N, I couldn’t tell you.” 
“Let. Me. Go.” 
“I won’t...I will never let you go...Never.” 
Four Days Ago 
Y/N watched with amusement and waved at her. She walked towards Yoongi with her arms over her chest, “Déjà vu.”
“At least I know your brain works.”
“I wish I could say the same about you.” 
Yoongi shook his head and glanced at Namjoon, “We’ll talk about it later.”
“Fine.”
Y/N watched Namjoon walk away with annoyance in his step. She turned back to Yoongi and frowned, “What’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing, let me take you out.”
She raised her eyebrow and pursed her lips, “Taking me out?” 
“That’s what I said right, Bambi?” 
She snickered at this and sighed, “Fine, if I must. Where are you taking me?” 
“Seeing Lana.” 
The two walked side by side and this time Yoongi was the one that grabbed her hand. She glanced down and she couldn’t help but smile at the scene before her. Yoongi saw the smile and he couldn’t help but smile to himself. He rubbed her knuckles as the fall winds guided them to Lana’s restaurant. He opened the door and he raised his eyebrow, “If you're going to do that, lock the doors.”
“What’s happening?”
Yoongi moved his body to cover the scene from Y/N. Lana was on one of the tables with Hoseok on top of her. It was clear they were kissing with the lipstick stains on his lips and his flushed face. He was thanking god that he still had pants on. Hoseok let out a small cough and helped Lana off the table as she gave him a shy smile, “H-Hey...Why are you here?” 
“You're a restaurant owner, what do you think?”
He felt a small punch to his back and he glanced behind to see Y/N frowning at him, “Be nice.” 
He rolled his eyes and glanced back at Lana, “I wanted to eat with my Bambi.”
“Bambi?” 
Yoongi moved to the side and Y/N smiled at Lana, “Good afternoon.” 
Lana glanced at Hoseok who was just as surprised as her. She looked back at Y/N and waved, “I was wondering when I would see you again.” 
“I’m glad I made a good first impression.”
Hoseok glanced at Yoongi and saw a look he had only seen once. He watched Y/N going towards Lana with excitement and he turned towards his boss with a smile, “Happiness looks good on you.”
Yoongi raised his eyebrow at him and shook his head, “Don’t say stupid things.” 
“It’s not stupid when it's the truth. You called her “My Bambi”, or am I hearing things?” 
Yoongi let out a small cough, “Get back to work.” 
Hoseok let out a laugh and glanced at Y/N, “Where there is love there is no darkness...remember that.” 
Yoongi looked towards Y/N who was laughing with Lana and it felt like a freeze frame from a movie. All he saw was her smile and compassionate eyes. Something he wasn’t used to and never will be but he wants to be especially with her. He looked back at Hoseok with a frown, “With my darkness, it will just suck her up...and then what?” 
“You’ll save her.” 
“Hoseok are you leaving?”
Hoseok turned towards Lana and frowned, “Yeah but I’ll come by tonight.”
She nodded her head and walked towards him with a smile on her face. She leaned towards him and placed a kiss on his cheek, “I’ll see you tonight.”
Yoongi glanced at Y/N who was watching the scene with a smile and Yoongi could sense the feeling of wanting. She walked towards her and pushed some hair off of her shoulder, “What’s with that look?” 
“What look?” 
“It's a look of wanting.” 
She frowned and glanced at Lana and then back at Yoongi, “Having someone sounds nice...that’s all.” 
“Am I invisible now?” 
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, “You know what I mean.”
“Do I Bambi? Use your words.” He pushed some hair from her forehead and she glanced up but he ignored her eyes, “For someone that likes to talk, you're silent.” 
“So....do you guys want ramen?”
Yoongi moved away from her at record speed and nodded his head, “Yeah, can we have what we had last time.”
Lana smirked at him and nodded his head, “Of course.” 
Yoongi wrapped his arm around Y/N’s waist and headed towards the back. He glanced down when he felt her head leaning on him. It was a nice feeling. They sat in the booth and he placed his hand on top of hers. She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow and he continued to play with her knuckles, “You want someone?” 
He felt her stiff and he looked up to see her flushed in the face, “I think everyone wants someone...to love.” 
“Have you ever been in love, Y/N?” 
She let out a small laugh and shook her head, “No...never. Have you?” 
He looked her into her eyes and smirked, “Slowly.” 
She was confused and went to open her mouth but it was stopped by ramen bowls. Lana placed the bowls and smiled, “If you guys want any drinks just let me know.”
“Thank you so much, Lana.”
Lana smiled at Y/N and winked at her, “Anything for you Bambi.”
Yoongi glared at Lana, “I’m the only one that can call her that.” 
“Yes, Mr. Min.” 
Yoongi turned back to Y/N to see her smiling as Lana left, “What’s with that smile?”
“Nothing.” 
After eating, Yoongi took her to something he never showed anyone. Not even Namjoon. The walk was long and he offered her a piggy-back ride but she denied it (with a red face). He unlocked a gate and he felt her eyes on his back but he didn’t want to ruin the surprise. He grabbed her hand and smiled, “Do you trust me?” 
“I trust you.” 
They entered the small garden and he watched her eyes brighten up at the sight. There was a variety of roses blooming with lilies in the mix. He let go of her hand and placed his hands in his pockets as he watched her go towards the flowers. He smiled when he saw the excitement in her eyes. She turned back and was shocked at the sheer amount, “What is this?” 
Yoongi leaned against the wall and took a deep sniff of the garden, “It’s the last thing I have of my parents. When they died, they left a notebook with an address and the address is this. It was their garden, they wanted......they wanted me to show someone I care about.” Someone I love...
She glanced down at the lilies and smiled, “White lilies....”
He walked towards her and picked up the flower. He placed it in her hair and she stared at him with those wide doe eyes he came accustomed to, “Purity.” 
“They can also mean rebirth...fitting for you.”
He raised his eyebrow and creased her hair, “How so?”
“You don’t even realize that you're changing with me.” 
“Everything comes naturally with you.” He picked up a purple rose and placed it in her hands, “Everything.” 
“Purple rose?”
“A purple rose, Bambi. Decipher it.” 
She glanced down at the delicate flower and then back at him, “You tell me...” 
He leaned down and their forehead touched as she kept her eyes on his. He saw her eyes craving for an answer but he was a man that didn’t talk all that much. He leaned down and placed his lips on his and he let his actions tell her. He tilted his head and she followed his actions. The kiss wasn’t sexual like how he was used to but it was like the white lilies, pure. But it was also like the purple roses, love. 
When they leaned away, he placed his forehead on hers and she looked up at him, “A tyrant that’s poetic...how rare.” 
He chuckled and creased her cheek, “What’s rare is finding someone like you.” 
He watched her enter her house and he couldn’t help but feel like a teen again. A teenager who got his first kiss. It made him want to kick his feet up in joy. He started to walk back but stopped by Y/N’s school. He walked into the yard and looked around with full caution. He heard rumors about the school and how they had cases of gang action. The rumors were about a girl named Ana Jeon. Her father is a well-known mafia leader but her mother is a famous painter. They used the mother’s job as a cover-up. He just hopes that Ana isn’t involved with Y/N in any way.
He continued to walk around the campus and his eyes landed on an opening. A door that was left open. He raised his eyebrow at this, for a rich school their security should be better. He quietly went through the door, without touching the dark wood and entered. It looked like he was in a hallway and he tilted his head. There was a light at the end of the hall. His hand immediately went to his knife as he made his way slowly. 
He overheard a familiar voice and bit his lip, “The party is in two weeks. Remember that.”
He heard an annoyed sigh as he kept his back to the wall, “Why her? Out of everyone, her?” 
“She’s a L/N. The amount of power and money she has is more than any of you, Jessica, Ana. Remember your role.”
“Whatever Eunwoo.” 
Yoongi glared at the ground and had to hold back a curse. Y/N is too involved with this case and he didn’t like it. His only job is to protect her and protecting her is what he will do. He made his way out of the hall and quickly made his way back to the headquarters. 
He slammed the door and tossed his knife on the coffee table. Everyone looked at him with confused eyes but no one dared to say anything. It wasn’t until Jin left the kitchen to stand in front of Yoongi with worried eyes, “What’s wrong?” 
Yoongi ran his fingers through his hair and looked at Jin with pure anger, “That son of bitch Eunwoo...”
Jungkook glanced at Taehyung and then back at Yoongi, “What about him? We’re still collecting information on him.” 
“He wants...” Yoongi bit his lip and for the first time, his emotions took over him. He let tears appear and looked at Jin, “He wants Y/N. I-I don’t know what he wants but he wants her....fuck he wants her.” 
Yoongi dropped to his knees as Jimin made his way towards him in worry, “Yoongi...”
Namjoon watched with a frown and looked at the rest of the team, “Taehyung, keep a close eye on Y/N. Jungkook, you're going with him in case anything happens.” 
Yoongi looked up at him and let out a mocking laugh, “Why because she’s evidence?”
“No, because my brother is in love and the woman that he's in love with is in trouble.”  
“I never said I’m in love-’
“Let’s come up with a plan.” 
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
He heard the familiar piano playing in the large music hall and he felt at ease. The delicate music sent warmth to his heart and he slowly walked towards her with a cigarette in his mouth. He let out a puff of smoke and smiled, “Your music sounds happier.” 
She turned around and smiled, “I have many reasons to be happy.”
He raised his eyebrow and leaned against the piano, “Want to tell me the reason?” 
“I think you can figure it out.” 
“Can I?” 
She rolled her eyes and let out a laugh, “If one can figure it out then another can.” 
He smirked at this and put out his cigarette under his foot. He sat next to her and glanced down at the keys, “Do you know someone named Cha Eunwoo?” 
She raised her eyebrow and nodded his head, “Sadly. I’ve known him since I was a child...why? Do you know him?”
I want to kill him, “No, I just heard his name through other people.” 
She nodded her head at this and he could tell that she did not like Eunwoo, “That makes sense. He's talked about by everyone.” 
“Why is that?”
“Rich and popular. I like his dad more, his dad is friends with mine. He was nicer and not weird at all.” 
Yoongi played two notes and then nodded his head, “Eunwoo was weird?” 
“He’s always been weird towards me. My mom wanted me to marry him because of how close he was with my dad. My dad never said no but he also never said yes. He’s always trying to capture my eyes...it’s annoying.”
Yoongi stopped playing and turned towards her with seriousness in his eyes, “Stay away from him.”
She let out a small laugh and turned towards him. Her smile dropped when she saw the seriousness in his eyes, “Is everything alright? And don’t say it's nothing, your eyes tell me otherwise.” 
“He’s trouble.” 
“I already knew that...You don’t need to tell me to do something.” 
Yoongi sighed and placed his hand on top of hers, “I know just be safe.” 
“I will.”
“That party you’ve been talking about, when is it?” 
She raised her eyebrow but answered, “It’s in two weeks. Why?”
He reached into his pocket and placed a red lily in her hand, “Y/N, I would like to be your date.” 
She laughed at this and raised her eyebrow, “It’s my event. You do realize I should be the one asking you.” 
“Never traditional.” 
“Clearly...I was going to ask you but now I don’t want to answer you.”
“Bambi.” 
She rolled her eyes and looked away from him, “I guess I’ll have you as my date.” 
“You guess?”
“Yeah, I guess. I have a question for you.” 
Yoongi turned towards the piano and started to play, “Sure.”
“Why did I see Taehyung and Jungkook near my house?”
He stopped playing abruptly and looked at her, “What do you mean?” 
“Yoongi, I saw them. I also saw them at my school. Why? Tell me the truth.” 
Yoongi bit his lip and didn’t know what to say. The truth can hurt her but a lie can be agonizing. She was the beautiful garden with the different colors and he was the fire. Everything he touches turns into ash, everything. Maybe Namjoon was right. He shouldn’t be near her because look at where she is. In a problem that could cost her life and for what for selfish reasons. If he continues to see her then he's just as selfish. He wished this was another life with no problems and it was just them. That’s all he wanted. 
He swallowed some spit and let out a small cough, “Watching just in case they come and hurt you.”
“So they're doing your job?” 
“It’s extra security for you. It makes me feel better to know they’re there when I can’t be there for you.”
She looked away and he knew that it was because she was flushed in the face, “Why?” 
“Because I will always be there for you. No matter what.” I just have to be strong enough to walk away from you when the time comes... 
Tag List:
@hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @secfir @amberpanda99
@yoongibaybee
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swampthingking · 2 months
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oh! oh </3 oh!! okay!
#he KNEW that apologizing in the nest was futile but when he thought riko was back he STILL APOLOGIZED#HE DIDNT EVEN KNOW WHO WAS TOUCHING HIM BUT HE WAS ALREADY APOLOGIZING#his genuine confusion makes me SO SAD#he’s been through so much but he's still like. so...innocent#his “normal” is so fucked up. he can’t even fathom how wrong the things that happened to him were#he knows firsthand that apologizing does nothing to break his fall and he's like... “is this a trick?”#like “what do you mean you’re not going to beat the shit out of me after i accidentally hit laila in a triggered state?”#“what do you mean there are ways to solve problems without violence?”#and him saying “i can't promise it won’t happen again” (lashing out when triggered)#as in: when it happens again i am expecting to be punished#as in: i will apologize if that's what you want. if that means you won't hit me. if it pleases you.#as in: but when it happens again-do what you must. i will deserve it.#he’s been hurt so often so badly that protecting himself is second nature#he has never been around safe people#his first instinct is fight or flight#his body is protecting him before his brain can catch up#and he obviously does not want to hurt them#but its so fucking HEARTBREAKING because he KNOWS he won't be able to control it when fight or flight kicks in#and if they are going to be around him it is inevitable he will resort to violence. it is all he knows.#but he still cares enough to prepare them for that reality#like. “i can't promise i won't hurt you again” and “i don't mean to” and “punish me as you see fit”#he's giving them permission to HURT HIM for protecting himself#tsc spoilers#tsc#the sunshine court#all for the game#aftg#jean moreau#the foxhole court#tfc
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maxellminidisc · 1 year
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I think looking me in the face and telling me I'm just as bad for yelling at somebody after they've exhausted my patience after having repeatedly punched me, kicked me, bruised my body, and just now slapped me in the fucking face is some absolute bitch shit and does nothing to counter my belief that absolutely nobody in this house values shit about me....
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saltpigsblog · 6 months
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Video I found of what's happening in Congo. If anything is inaccurate, please let me know.
The pain and suffering that's happening today is insane. Yet something that has happened before in the past to many groups of people that have been 'othered' or seen as not human. The murder and death need to be seen as what it is and treated as such.
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miserycanary · 3 months
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BREAK MY HEART INTO TWO ᡣ𐭩 ⤷ next
pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley & fem!reader
synopsis: Ghost has been feeling pissed off lately, and happens to lash out on you
tags: slight angst, misunderstandings, very slight mention of violence
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He knew he was not in the right headspace. With the newly added task of training new recruits, the dead-end mission, and overall exhaustion. Ghost could feel his patience nearing nothing and he could feel it in his bones that he wouldn’t be able to control himself from lashing out soon— even if it was you. 
That’s why he started to distance himself and avoid you like the plague. Only responding with grunts or one-word answers. It’s not the best action but he couldn’t think of anything else. Despite the frustration clouding his mind, he still vows to never hurt you. He promised you that; reassured you that he would never ever raise his voice at you, his hand stroking your back and kissing your temple, after you told him about your past one drunken night. 
The first time Simon came home and didn’t immediately wrap his arm around you, nosing the crook of your neck, you knew something was up. You didn’t push the matter though. Brushing it off as something trivial and proceeding to go your usual routine. You did notice things that you never brought up with him: heavy footsteps, the lack of teasing from him, and uncharacteristically never clinging onto you  
What finally pushed you to visit the base was when Si, your husband who would go through all levels of hell just to be close to you and never lets a night pass without you with him in bed, suddenly tells you he will be sleeping on the couch. It baffled you. This is the same man who wrapped all his limbs around to keep you from leaving after a big fight. The same man that acts like a big baby when you tell him you’re gonna be away on a work event. Suddenly, the idea of him getting bored of you and finding entertainment with another woman intrusively swirled in your mind. 
Were you too loud? Too chatty? Clingy? Maybe you didn’t satisfy him enough. Maybe he wanted a wife available to always cook for him after work. It scared you. You love him; love him enough to change just to keep him.
You needed to talk to him. Whether he likes it or not. 
“Price, please. Just call him for me?” The captain looks at you, hesitating. Even though he was aware of Ghost’s thinning temper and didn’t want to put his comrade’s wife in a position that could result in a fight, he also knew that you needed to solve this. He scratches his beard, nervously looking at you. 
“Sweetheart, I don’t know. The man.. he.. he hasn’t been the best these days? Maybe you should go home and wait for him—“. You cut him off, “he doesn’t want to talk to me! Please, just 5 minutes and I won’t even cause a scene. I promise!” With a sigh, he finally relents and tells you to stay there while he calls for your husband. You crack a smile, nodding and feeling a sense of relief wash over you. 
Moments after being alone, a new recruit (you assume considering you’ve never met this man nor did Simon ever mention him) approaches you with a low wolf whistle. His hands find your waist before you can even comprehend what’s happening, pulling you close to his chest. 
“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here?” You freeze, and disgust starts to bubble up inside of you. You plant your hand on his chest in an attempt to pull away in fear that Simon would witness this and think differently. Before you could say to leave you alone, a voice booms out. A voice you know too well. 
“Y/N!” Simon takes three strides and he was near enough to pull the recruit away from you and land a punch. Scandalous gasps went around while the yells of other members went inaudible to you. You stood there in horror as Price stepped in, pushing Ghost away and yelling to stand down. This was not your Simon. Your Simon would never be this violent in front of you— he was too scared to frighten you and do something to push you away. These weren’t the same hands carried you as if a delicate flower he plucked as well. The hands that routinely offers to brush your hair every night and washes you every sex session while he kisses your shoulders, showering you with endless praise with a voice filled with adoration.
Ghost whips his head. His cold stare made you falter, taking a step back. Something you never thought you’d do when faced with him. You could see his mask move, undoubtedly hiding his disappointment and furrowed eyebrows. 
“What are you doing here?” He seethes, roughly gripping your arm tight enough to leave a bruise.
“I-I... I wanted to see you—“ Before you could even finish, Ghost groans with frustration. “I fucking told you to not come to the base. Were you even thinking? Use that pea-sized brain of yours once in a while! Just.. leave me alone and go home.”
Silence. The whole base quiets down with his words, a tense atmosphere building up. You freeze. From the corner of your eye, you notice Price’s contort with concern and hesitation if he should meddle. 
The pain you felt was indescribable. It was as if Ghost took your heart and crushed it with his bare hands. Your breathing got labored, your eyes flicked down, taking deep breaths to hold back tears. Before the realization has fully settled, you pull away from Ghost, mumbling something incoherent. In that moment, Ghost knew he fucked up. He hurt his darling flower. He hurt the only person he treasured. The person that stayed with him through thick and thin. The person he married, vowed in front of God to love forever and to never hurt. 
“No, baby— I didn’t mean to—“
You cut him off, telling him you were going back just like he wanted. You didn’t even call it your home. You always do. Saying it with pride to have something to call home with him. 
God, what has he done? 
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꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: dare I say this man needs a break :} Second part is out. Little detail: I use ‘Simon’ during Y/N’s pov and Ghost for the rest, but used Ghost for her after he yelled at her. :3
dividers by @cafekitsune
Please reblog!! Ask is open!
⟢ taglist is open!! Comment if you want to be tagged in the next posts.
check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!
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indecisivemuch · 5 months
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Look at me
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Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader
Summary: Being oblivious to Luke’s feelings, you tried to get over him by getting a boyfriend, who just does not know how to treat you right. Inspired by the song ‘Boyfriend’ by Dove Cameron ~ “I could be a better boyfriend than him.” (jealous luke, friends-to-lovers, fluff, angst, pining, happy ending.)
Warning: Just the boyfriend being an asshole and unwanted physical touch for a split second, but nothing serious. Sorry if your name is Cole. Violence (physical fighting)
Note: I’m sorry if there are a lot of errors, I haven’t had the chance to edit this thoroughly so if it feels like a train wreck, then I'm sorry. I just needed to write this out, get it out there, so I can go back to revising for my exams in peace lol, cause this plot/idea has been at the back of my head, I could not stop thinking about it or study properly. Lowkey hated how this one turned out, but whoops.
Word count: 4.8k
“People say that eyes are the windows to one's soul,” you once told him. You two have been best friends for a very long time: five years of being attached to the hip. Yet, you were completely oblivious to the way he looked at you. Even everybody at camp noticed and thought it was bound to happen. They were so sure that Luke and you would end up together. So imagine everybody’s surprise when something else occurred.
It happened right in front of Luke: Cole - a boy from Cabin 5 and son of Ares - asked you out, and you said yes.
It has been two months since that day. All Luke could do was sulk as he watched his best friend slip away. Of course, you still tried to spend as much time as possible with him. But even then, things have changed. There were no more of those content silences between the two of you. There were no more carefree laughs that made Luke feel like you two were the only ones that existed in this place. He used to walk you back to your cabin every night, hugging you good night or kissing your forehead close to your hairline if he felt brave enough. Moments like those convinced him you two would be like that forever. But his solace was taken in a split second. Now, you were so near, yet so out of reach. 
It didn’t help that he saw you every day, like right now, as you sat in the middle of a gathering hosted by your cabin. Gods, even the wind seems to be in love with you, judging by the way it was blowing through your hair as if it was trying to twirl itself around those lovely locks that Luke himself used to always tug behind your ears. The sight of you always bathed him in this warm feeling, like the morning sun. Hence his nickname for you: sunshine. 
Then his brown eyes landed on the figure next to you, and they hardened. He has witnessed it all: Cole’s backhanded compliments, ignoring you on your birthday, leaving you alone to talk to his friends, occasionally flirting back with girls who batted an eyelash at him, and then blatantly telling you that you were overthinking it. Luke knew he could treat you so much better. 
You were sitting with your boyfriend and his group of friends, who often gave you weird looks or snickers. Gods, if it was him you were with, he’d never make you feel excluded. He would have his arms around you and defend you if his friends ever made snarky remarks. Not that that would ever happen anyway; you were well-loved at camp, and all his friends loved you. But he would treat you well, nevertheless, not like that dumbass sitting next to you.
One of your favorite songs started playing, and Luke watched as you genuinely smiled for once tonight. You touched your boyfriend’s arm, muttering something to him. Luke knew exactly what you were saying to Cole because you and Luke used to do this together. Except, you never had to ask Luke. 
Whenever your favorite tunes were on, Luke would immediately pull you out of your seat and dance with you, laughing as if nothing mattered at all. Nights like those, he liked to imagine that the stars above envied them and what the two of you had. Now? He felt like one of them, watching from the outside. 
Luke’s jaw clenched as he saw Cole shrugging off your hand on his arm. Gods, Luke felt like that idiot was taking you for granted, and his blood boiled. Before Cole, Luke used to always orchestrated some excuse to have you touch him - getting injured on purpose sometimes just to watch you frantically panic over his wounds and take care of him, volunteering to help you out with swords training just to touch your hand and pretend to adjust the way you were holding it, hugging you every time he greeted you and so on.
For a second, your mask slipped, and you had that look on your face, like something had left you emotionally wounded. It was the kind of look Luke would kill to never see again, and oh, the things he would do to get rid of Cole. Luke had to wrestle with the thought of marching up to Cole and beating him to a pulp. However, he did stand up to approach you.
You felt a hand touch your shoulder. When you peered at the person standing, your eyes immediately glimmered as they caught Luke’s. However, something foreign was gleaming in his eyes. The Hermes boy has always looked at you sweetly. But the way he was looking at you right now was filled with something much more intense - borderline fervent, like an obsession. 
Cole finally glanced over at you for the first time the entire night. Unlike you, he instantly recognized the look in Luke’s eyes: hunger and longing. It was clear as day to everybody but you.
Luke extended his hand out for you to take and you understood right away. For the first time in two months, your hand touched his. Luke’s chest sunk and his breathing lost its usual rhythm for a second as your skin made contact with his. The Hermes boy finally looked over to Cole, and the Ares boy saw an immediate shift in his eyes. Now, they were filled with animosity and - the most obvious of all - heated jealousy. 
Luke led you away from Cole and started twirling you around. You let out a laugh - the kind that was infectious and has always brought a smile to Luke’s lips. You both sang along to the lyrics. For once, your relationship felt restored, just like the good old days. Was it wrong that this was the happiest you have felt since you got together with Cole? You shrugged away the thought as the song slowly ended. Luke settled with both hands on your waist while yours were around his neck. Usually, you would put your head on his chest as you both slightly swayed around. But now that you were in a relationship, you kept a bit of distance between the two of you. You gaze up at Luke, who was already staring at you sweetly. The moment was perfect. Gods, you almost wished to stay in it forever.
Meanwhile, Luke hoped he could convey his thoughts through his eyes - the unspoken words he wished he had told you sooner. Could you not see the infatuation coursing through his veins whenever he was with you? Could you not see that you got him at your beck and call? 
The look you gave him almost convinced him that you heard his thoughts. You leaned your head on his chest, caught off-guard by the speed of his heartbeat as it soothed you along with the music in the background. Feeling a heated look over his way, Luke glanced around and locked eyes with your boyfriend. Cole narrowed his eyes while Luke gave Cole a look of resentment and immense loathing. 
Gods, he could be a much better boyfriend than Cole.
“Hey, man,” when you heard your boyfriend’s voice, you lifted your head from Luke’s chest and withdrew your hands around his neck. “I’ll take over from here,” Cole practically pulled you away from Luke and started swaying with you. Instead of feeling happy that Cole finally danced with you after two months of dating, you felt wrong. Cole's hands were on your waist, but they felt sluggish like his heart was not in it at all. Your ear was against Cole’s chest, so you caught the sound of his heartbeat. It sounded…too calm, almost cold and shallow, causing you to twist your lips into a frown.
You glanced up at your boyfriend but saw him staring behind you instead. So you glanced back and caught a glimpse of Luke before getting pulled around by Cole, who roughly yanked your face towards him. He kissed you almost aggressively. There was something cynical and bitter about the way he was kissing you. 
Cole opened his eyes and conceitedly made eye contact with Luke. The Hermes boy glared at the sight of Cole handling you so roughly, claiming your lips so smugly. If it was him, he would be kissing you for you; he would be kissing you to show you how much he worshiped you and the ground you walk on, not to prove an empty point.
You finally managed to pull away when Cole let go of your chin. “All right, we’re done for the night, don’t you think?” your boyfriend muttered, quickly leaving you to return to his friends as if nothing had happened. Despite feeling slightly aggravated at Cole, you hated that you couldn't care less of his words at that moment, and the first thing you did was look in the direction Luke had been before. 
Yet, he was not there anymore.
~~~
Your cabin was not on the same side as Luke’s cabin for this match of capture the flag. You were fighting off some people who were on the blue team. Years of training with Luke paid off because you managed to point your sword at the person’s neck and grinned when they put their hands up in surrender. You continued perusing through the area, trying to regroup with your team or take down another blue team member. However, you almost tripped as you witnessed Cole on the ground with Luke on top of him, repeatedly punching his face..
“Luke!” you called out, watching as Luke’s action faltered, and his eyes darted around frantically around like a lost wild animal. However, Cole took advantage of Luke’s momentary distraction to land a hit on Luke’s face. The Ares boy got off the ground as Luke stumbled and went for another punch. However, Luke dodged it effortlessly and rammed Cole against a tree instead.
“Hey, knock it off,” you yelled, standing between the boys to stop their flight. Luke immediately backed off, afraid he would accidentally hurt you if he didn’t. But Cole, in the middle of his blind rage, still swung for Luke and ended up striking you across the face instead. Right when that happened, Luke pushed Cole again and rushed to your side to assess your injury. At that very moment, Chiron approached the scene with one of Cole’s friends next to him, who promptly told the man:
“It was him. Luke initiated the fight.” 
~~~
Luke wished for somebody to put him out of this misery as he stared at you from afar helplessly. He was so dotted that it hurt. Somebody must have answered his prayers because your eyes met his from across the field. There was a bit of sadness behind them, perhaps regret from how things ended yesterday. You whispered something to your boyfriend, but Cole did not even spare you a glance and waved his hand as if dismissing you from the discussion. Luke’s hand once again curled into a fist. He bit the inside of his cheek from the pain induced by his injury. The Hermes cabin counselor felt no bit of guilt in his body about his physical altercation with Cole. He felt smug at the sight of Cole with one black eye, busted lip, swollen cheek and a body sporting way more bruises than him. 
You deserved better. 
“Hey, stranger,” you greeted, sitting beside Luke. Almost immediately, he hooked one finger under your chin, tilting your head lightly as if he was afraid he might break you. The boy scanned over your injury, sighing at the sight of purple forming under your skin, indicating an emerging bruise. Even so, under the moonlight, you still looked heavenly to him.
“Devon said you initiated the fight. Is that true, Luke?” Luke frowned at the mention of Cole’s friend. Great, now he knew another idiot’s name. Meanwhile, you have asked this because you knew him. There was no way the boy you knew would lose control like this and swing his hands first. 
“No, but what’s the point of telling Chiron that? It’s two against one,” he breathed out.
“Luke, you’re literally the friendliest and nicest counselor here. Of course, he would believe you,” you reasoned. You sighed disappointingly as Luke only shook his head in response as if asking you to drop it.
Now, you two sat in silence. It felt the same as the comforting ones you have had with him before - the ones that made you feel like you were at home in front of your fireplace, curled up with a book. 
“Why are you with him?” and with that, the comfort evaporated as the air thickened. You and Luke rarely argued or even disagreed, so it felt like an unfamiliar territory every time it felt relatively tense between you two. 
“I know you, which is why I know that you’re absolutely miserable with him, so I don’t understand why you’re still with Cole,” Luke commented, though his voice was quiet because he was considerate of drawing this type of attention to you. He had seen it before - Cole causing public altercations and storming off and you running after him with tears emerging from your eyes. He did not want to put you in the same position.
“Y/N, please, as your best friend…” there it was again, the word that used to make you smile brightly, was now the same one that brought you pain. You wanted more. “...You deserve better,” he uttered, his eyebrows slightly scrunched as he looked at you with those eyes. There it was again, the look so intense that you were convinced they could swallow you whole. Yet, you could not interpret them. So, you looked away.
“Luke…” you said his name almost like a warning sign. The boy sighed at this. 
His fingers gently tilted your chin towards him, urging you to face him. There was so much contrast in the way he touches you and the way Cole does. You knew precisely why Luke wanted you to look at him: your eyes were your tell for him. Years ago, after you told him that eyes were the windows to one's soul, he told you that he knew this already because he had learned that your eyes will always tell the truth for you. That’s how, in so many instances, he would be the first to notice whenever you're upset. 
“Y/N, does he make you happy?” you stiffened at the question. Words choked up in your throat as your mouth opened to answer. You wanted to say yes so you both could get over this conversation. But you knew he would be able to tell you were lying. The way he looked at you right now, as if you were the only thing that mattered. He seemed so vulnerable. Little did you right at this moment, Luke was willing to surrender and let you go if you said yes.
“Oh, this is who you left me to talk to?” Cole's voice broke you both out of the trance. “The person who beat your boyfriend?” Cole passive-aggressively spat, sneering from above as he looked down at the two of you. You called out to your boyfriend, but he quickly cut you off with a quick “Unbelievable,” before walking away. But Cole did this on purpose. He liked the attention he drew, even if they were at your expense, especially because he knew you would chase after him.
“I’m so sorry,” you muttered to Luke on your boyfriend's behalf as you stood up to run after him. Luke frowned as he shook his head. If you were his, he would never allow you to apologize on his behalf, nor would he give a reason for you to ever do that.
“Uhm, what are you waiting for?” Annabeth’s voice broke Luke from his irritated state. “Go after her,” the young girl nudged.
“I doubt I should do that, Annabeth. Last time I was with him, he ended up in the infirmary.”
“Yes, but you need to go after her before it’s too late.”
“It’s already too late.”
“No, it’s not,” the girl stated sternly, and when Luke peered over at her, he recognized the look on her face. From experience, he knew better than to doubt when Annabeth was right. So, he stood up and walked in the direction where you disappeared after your boyfriend.
“Stop it, Cole. I don’t want to…” Your voice grabbed Luke’s attention as he started walking in that direction, eyebrows furrowed.
“Come on, this is the least you could do to make it up to me,” Cole replied. 
When Luke reached the scene, he almost went into an uncontrollable wrath when he saw Cole trying to take off your shirt as you objected and struggled out of his grip. 
“I said ‘let go,’ Cole,” you yelled this time, pushing him back. Upon finally doing so successfully, a figure stormed past you and immediately flung at Cole’s cheek, right at the spot that was already bruising. The impact knocked Cole to the ground as he wailed from the pain. Averting your gaze to the person, you saw Luke. Like a deranged bull, Luke grabbed Cole by the collar and lifted him up, going in for another hit, but you quickly stopped him, calling out his name.
Cole, who did not learn his lesson, spoke again, “Gods, of course! He runs to your aid again. You must be a good fuck for him to get this attached. How many times have you fucked him, huh? Gods, you’re such a whore, you know that?” If it were not for your hands stopping Luke and removing his grip from Cole’ shirt, Luke would have ensured Cole no longer had a face. 
“Cole, stay the fuck away from me. We are over.” Your words seemed to affect Luke more than Cole. It was as if Luke could feel an immense weight being lifted from his shoulders. “Let’s go, this is not worth it,” you told Luke. Cole barked a laugh at this.
“Man, you’re more trouble than it's worth. Do you know why no guys ever asked you out? You’re fucking difficult and clingy, that’s why. If it was not for that fucking bet, I would not have either.” Luke was about to launch at Cole but was caught off guard because you had already done it yourself. You punched him, aiming for his nose and teeth, making sure to break a few.
“You fucking bitch!” Cole spoke after he howled in agony. He spat out blood as his nose started bleeding, “Gods, you’re gonna pay for this.”
“Oh yeah? Come on!” you challenged him, motioning him to come over. Any sense of calm or restraint you had was long gone. “I’ll be the one sending you to the fucking infirmary this time,” right when you started approaching Cole again, you were quickly stopped by Luke. He stood behind you, one of his hands soothingly rubbing your back in an attempt to calm you down. Luke averted his gaze to Cole.
“If you know any better, then leave, Cole. And don’t come near any of us again, or I promise you…” Luke trailed off, shaking his head as his eyes bore the weight of the promise he left unsaid, leaving it to Cole’s imagination as to what Luke would ever do to him if he ever saw the boy again. Something seemed to dawn on Cole as he saw the dark look on Luke’s face. Cole finally decided to leave the scene, limping away from the area as he muttered some insults under his breath.
You turned around and inspected Luke’s hand, which started bleeding again through the bandage. Taking his non-injured hand in yours, you wordlessly dragged the boy to the infirmary. Despite the excruciating pain spreading through his injured hand, Luke blushed at your action and followed you like a lost puppy.
The Apollo person on shift was someone you knew, so you managed to convince them to let you do the work on the Hermes boy. You observed his hand again, peeling off the dirty bandage from it. As you went to grab disinfectant, Luke softly held you back by flipped over his hand that was in yours so that he could take a look at your hand instead.
“Are you okay?” His words made you swiftly look over at him instead. There was a sad look on his face as he sat on the infirmary bed. You haven’t seen him this hurt and dejected in a long time.
“Am I okay? You’re the one with the bleeding hand.”
“You punched him quite hard.”
“He deserved it,” you settled on answering, hesitantly pulling your hand out of his so you could grab the things you needed. 
“You know I had that handled, right?” you asked mindlessly, trying to fill the silence as you disinfected his hand and wrapped a new bandage over it. “I don’t need you to defend my honor or anything, Luke. I can hold my own ground,” you tried joking.
“No, I know you can hold your own ground. Besides, I wasn’t defending your honor,” he spoke softly, watching as you delicately held his hand with so much care. He wished you could hold him like that as well. A quivering sigh escaped his soft lips, his voice much less firm than he wanted it to be: 
“I was defending the girl I’m in love with.”
You immediately looked at him, only to see him already gazing up at you. It was as if a blindfold had been taken off, you finally understood what your other friends were referring to when they said that Luke had always “looked” at you. His eyes were filled with adoration. However, this time, they were also decorated with pain.
“I could be a better boyfriend than him,” he stated, almost like it was a fact, and your gut knew it was true, too. 
“So….Why not me? I watched you give Cole - a complete asshole - a chance with you. I watched him give you so much less than what you deserve. It pains me, but I still sit here and wait for you to look in my direction for even one second in the way I have always looked at you. I could be so good to you, Y/N. I waited for you to realize I could be the one who loves you so endlessly and treats you way better than all these guys combined. So…why? Please tell me why and put me out of my misery. Why is it not me?”
“Luke…” you rasped out his name. Despite the pain he was in, his heart could not help but throb for a second as it yearned for the sound of your voice calling out to him again. He almost scowled at himself for the way he was reacting to you. Gods, you managed to unravel him through the sound of his name from your lips. He hesitated for a second, wondering if he would even be able to take it at all - if he was given a chance with you. Would he be able to handle the way your skin felt against his, or would his heart burst into unstoppable flames? Would he ever be able to move on if you ended up breaking his heart, or would it remain in scattered pieces of you?
“I love you,” he uttered so effortlessly, which almost convinced you he had said it a thousand times before. In a way, he did, but only in his mind after every time he bid you goodnight. Gods, never did you think he’d say it out loud and put it out there. You almost said it before as well - out loud to the universe, but never brave enough.
“Luke, I never knew,” Luke wanted to sigh as he looked away from you. For the first time ever, he did not want to be vulnerable and let you see his eyes. The same ones that had been looking longingly at you for the past five years, and you were too blinded to see.
He could have sworn that he had been laying it on thick for the past years - all the touches, the looks, his actions. Luke would always linger near you and select you first every time he had to go on a quest. And if he ever were selected to go on one without you, the first thing he would do after returning is wrap his arms around your waist as he pulled you into a hug, breathing in your presence like it would bring him back to life from the gruesome battles he had to go through while out of camp. Did all those actions throughout five years not show you enough that he was infatuated with you? He wanted to reassure you that what Cole said previously was not true. Many guys wanted you but never asked you out because they knew he would be first in line no matter what. 
"Luke, please, look at me," Of course he obeyed. His eyes met yours - the ones he always tried to find in a crowd of demigods.
“I never knew that you were an option. I did not know that I could choose you. I thought that even attempting to tell you about my feelings would break our friendship forever. I didn’t know you felt this way, too. In fact,” you dryly chuckled. “I was giving Cole a chance because I was trying to move on from you.” Luke tugged you closer to him, his fingers lingering on your hips. Thousands of thoughts speared through him as he tried to collect himself. A glimmer of hope presented itself as his mind toyed with the idea of you wanting him too.There was no way he was letting you move on now, not when you both have mutual feelings. 
“I thought I was deep in the friend zone. Did you not see all the moves I pulled on you?” he asked.
“What moves?”
“Uhm—the physical contact?”
“I thought you were just touchy.”
“I walked you back to your cabin every night!”
“Well, I thought it was just a best friend thing?”
“The first thing I do after every quest is search for you, you’re always the first one I want to see.”
“I really, really thought it was because you were my best friend.” He groaned at all of your responses.
“But do know, Luke. You have always been my first option in everything. And I would have chosen you again and again, the first pick every round…if I knew you were up for it.” He groaned again, but this time out of temptation and satisfaction. He didn’t think the metaphorical butterflies were real. He slowly but surely stood up from the infirmary’s bed and wrapped his arms around your waist. You reciprocated, your hands around his neck. He leaned closer to you and gulped. He wanted to say the right words, do the right things and not mess this up. He took a deep breath and finally settled on what to say next.
“Can I kiss you?” He muttered in a low, raspy voice with a restrained manner, as if he was holding himself back. Five years of pining led him to this point. You almost melted at the sound of his voice.
“Kiss me, Luke.”
And he did. He pulled you up and arched down, connecting your lips together. He dove in as if he had been waiting for this day his whole life. He felt every breath knocked out of his lungs. He sunk himself into this moment like he was living for it rather than in it. He kissed you as if it was the only time he could and as if you would evaporate if he stopped. His hands moved to your face to embrace your cheeks in his palm.
You started moving your hands up his head and played with his curly hair. You tugged it slightly, and the action drew a moan from Luke. The sound caused you to break away. It made you flustered that you had evoked such an alluring sound from the Hermes boy. 
“I wanna go slow for you, I really do. But it feels like I’ve been waiting for so long. I want to be a gentleman and not skip steps. But I can’t wait anymore,” he whispered before whimpering against your lips, “please be mine.”
He went in for another kiss again, but you pulled away. His heart clenched at this. The boy bit his lip and wanted to scowl at himself for attempting to speed things up. He was too greedy and wanted things too quickly for you. He almost whined at the thought of losing the chance he barely had.
“That was not a question, Luke. Ask me, and I’ll give you an answer,” he stared into your eyes, and it almost set him on fire. He never saw that much passion in them before. It almost matched his, and that made his heart fasten again.
“Will you be mine, sunshine?”
“Yes, Luke. As long as you’re mine too.”
“I have always been yours.”
——————————
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sinner-as-saint · 23 days
Text
the alchemy
Mob!Bucky x Reader 
Run-through: About a decade ago you left your home and ran away, looking for a fresh start after having had your heart broken by the boy you loved. Now you’re back and turns out Bucky Barnes – the same man who once broke your heart – is adamant on tormenting you some more. But why? Why does he want you back at all cost when he was the one who once pushed you away and crushed your heart like it meant nothing to him? What secrets has he been keeping for almost a decade? Most importantly, what truly happened that night he broke your heart? 
Themes: forced marriage/marriage of convenience, angst, mob!bucky, metal arm, fluff, smut, possessive!bucky, childhood friends-to-enemies-to-lovers trope, bratty!reader, mentions of violence, explicit language, slow burn-ish, HEA 
a/n: new mob!bucky pics dropped–
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“I do.” You said in a sombre voice, with blood dripping from the cut on your lip as you sealed your fate and married your worst enemy. 
Bucky’s face was bleeding too, your nails had done some damage earlier when you both got into a physical altercation like wild animals. You nearly smirked when you realised he looked worse than you did. 
Then again you both looked like you went through hell as you stood here, at this makeshift altar, in the middle of what used to be the foyer of your father’s mansion before Bucky and his men shot at it until it was nothing but rubble, broken glass, and cracked marble. 
Messy hair. Cuts and bruises all over your bodies. Dishevelled clothes. Your white jumpsuit had your own bloodstains on it, and his all black suit was torn in certain places. But he looked every bit the man they say he is. Dangerous. Cold, dark presence. The large bruise on his jaw was beginning to get darker now, thanks to the many punches from you. His near shoulder length hair was surprisingly looking neat. It pissed you off. 
You looked like a mess too. And for a brief second, as his blue eyes looked down at your throat, you knew he could see a matching bruise forming around your neck from when he’d pinned you down to the floor earlier with that damned metal arm. 
No one was dead, none of your people and none of his. Thankfully. But right now, as you married the man standing in front of you, you felt dead inside. 
“You may now kiss the bride.” Was all you heard and you remained still as Bucky grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into him. 
You resisted for a moment, but then he pulled you harder until your chests collided and you had no choice but to remain pressed against him. “I’m tired of these games, princess.” He hissed in a lowered voice, looking down at you with his merciless blue eyes. 
You stared back at him with equal contempt. “You’re gonna regret this, Barnes.” You sneered, in a hushed voice. Not that the injured family members and men surrounding you – both his men and your father’s guards who stood and watched the show in disbelief and shock would mind the disrespect for each other in both your tones – but you didn’t want to add to the ridiculousness of this situation. 
“Oh?” He taunted with a faint smirk. Only then did you notice the small cut on his upper lip. It brought you a little solace. “You’re my wife now, you will do as I say.” 
The bitterness in your tone matched his as you said, “We’ll see about that, husband.” 
You could tell he’d accepted the unspoken challenge, and he would do anything to win. After all, everything was a game to Bucky Barnes. He didn’t care who he used, who he manipulated, or who he tossed aside. He paraded around like he owned this world and everything and everyone in it. 
Bucky scoffed then leaned in to kiss you, hard. It wasn’t a loving kiss in any way. It was possessive though. Like he was putting on a show for whoever was watching, making sure everyone in this dilapidated room understood that you were his now. 
You kissed him back, angrily. You despised him. Your entire family did. But they couldn’t save you this time. Bucky’s attack was unexpected. Your guards were unprepared. You were the last line of defence and this… union was necessary. You had to offer something, anything. Otherwise Bucky and his guys threatened to burn down your half of the city and turned it to ash immediately. 
But it wasn’t always like this. Your families used to be allies. You actually grew up with Bucky, he tolerated you enough back then and you had always had a crush on him. 
Then that night happened almost a decade ago… 
It was your twentieth birthday party, and your father made an announcement which you were not ready for. 
He announced to the ballroom filled with important people that you were to marry Bucky, and that both families were beyond happy to transform their friendship into something more solid through this alliance. 
You remained frozen in place for long minutes after that announcement was made, even though your heart raced like never before. No one had told you about this, but judging by the way your family hugged and congratulated Bucky’s family you understood that this was all planned. 
You kept that smile on your face though, as people walked over to congratulate you. You looked around and tried to find Bucky in the crowd to see if he knew about this but he was nowhere to be found. 
You were certain he was here just a moment ago, leaning against one of the pillars and brooding as always. And he’d just disappeared. 
The announcement made your heart flutter incessantly. After all, you’d always had a huge crush on Bucky. How could you not? He was the boy you grew up around, he had pretty eyes and nice hair. Sure he was broody and rarely ever smiled but you liked how it suited his bad boy personality. And your young heart was weak for the handsome boy with tattoos and blue eyes. 
After people were done congratulating you, you discretely walked out of the party and decided to look around and try to find Bucky. You hated how giddy you were. Sure, Bucky was broody and rarely ever laughed. He spent his entire time glaring at you then getting jealous when you talked to other guys. But you had liked him since forever. 
You looked all over your father’s mansion. Bucky was nowhere to be found indoors. So… maybe the pool area outside? You started walking in that direction, feeling like a princess in your white ball gown as you walked down an empty hallway, a faint smile on your face as you looked for the man you were meant to marry soon. 
Maybe Bucky knew about this announcement. Maybe he was okay with it. Maybe this would be your fairytale in real life, you thought. Maybe you’d melt his frozen heart and everything would be perfect. Maybe he liked you back all along and you just never knew! 
“...marry her?” 
Your smile vanished as you stopped right before you stepped outside onto the patio. Was that Bucky’s voice? Was he talking to someone? You quietly stepped closer, hiding behind the plants as you tried your hardest to listen to what he was saying. 
You could see him, standing on the black tiles by the pool. He had his back to you, and he held a phone to his ear. His broad shoulders and lean waist accentuated by how well that black suit moulded to his muscular body. You watched as he ran his fingers through his short black hair in frustration. 
Who was he talking to? 
“No!” He barked at the phone. “Did you not listen to what I just said? I don’t want to do this!” He yelled, not bothering that anyone around might hear him. “I tried to talk them out of it! This is so fucking stupid!” 
You blinked in surprise, unable to process what you were hearing. 
“I don’t care what I have to do, but I will not marry her.” He said with enough venomous certitude that a silent tear fell down your face. 
All your previous delusions turned to nothing but heavy disappointment. It made you feel stupid. This gown felt stupid. The diamonds around your neck, around your wrists and in your hair felt stupid. How stupid of you to think this was all going to end well? How stupid of you to think your childhood crush actually meant something? How stupid of you to think that there was a chance he liked you back? Of course he didn’t. He wouldn’t have ignored you for years if he did. 
You couldn’t stop the sudden sob that escaped your mouth. Afraid that he might have heard, you took a few steps back and hid behind a nearby, tall potted shrub. 
Things were quiet for a moment or two. You heard him whispering so quietly you couldn’t make out what he said. Your face burned in embarrassment at the thought of him finding you here. You already felt stupid and childish, you didn’t want to get caught eavesdropping in this situation. 
But then he resumed talking on the phone. You couldn’t risk moving to look at him so you remained hiding, and listened. Your heart broke with each word that left his mouth. 
“And she’s so blind she doesn’t even see it.” He hissed, louder this time. “I barely tolerate her. Her whiny, and bratty attitude. I mean she’s a grown woman and still acts like she’s daddy’s little princess.” He scoffed. “You should’ve seen her today, she looks like a kid’s toy with that ridiculous dress on.” 
More tears streamed down your face as you heard nothing but distaste and irritation in his voice. This was the boy you had a hopeless crush on? This is what he thought of you? 
You didn’t need to hear more. This was more than enough to completely break you so you turned around and quietly walked back down the same hallway. You wiped your tears, and put a fake smile on as you went back to your party. This time with a plan in your head. 
You endured the party with a heavy heart. Faked some more smiles until it ended. You didn’t see Bucky again for the rest of the night, which was good. By the early hours of the morning, everyone had left. You wandered around that empty ballroom like a ghost that night. For hours. Thinking, plotting. It was clear Bucky didn’t want this. And now neither did you. But your families had announced it. So what exactly could you do? 
By the time the sun rose, you had already written a note to your father and left it on his desk. By the time the sky brightened, your bags were packed and you were already driving out of the mansion grounds. And you knew that by the time your father would go into his office and find that note, you would already be on a plane, on your way out of here. 
You didn’t give too many details in the note. You simply said that you were leaving, not knowing when or if you’d be back. 
Truth was, you had no solid plans. All you knew was that you needed to get away from home. 
You didn’t know that when you’d return home – almost a decade later, so much would have changed. 
Your father was angry. Livid actually, that you’d been away for years without contact. You briefly explained why you needed to leave. And how you’d been able to make a name for yourself elsewhere. But after he was done berating you for what you did when you were twenty and stupid, he filled you in on all that you’d missed in the past decade almost. 
Some important points were: your family and Bucky were no longer allies, but were now each others’ worst rivals but no one knew that. The city was now secretly divided – your family ruled and controlled one side, and Bucky ruled the other. 
“It’s just him now?” You had asked, and your father nodded. 
“A lot happened after you left, actually–”
A loud noise cut him off. Rounds of bullets shot at the windows of the house, from all sides it seemed. And it was pure chaos. You could hear your guards fighting back, but even by just hearing the commotion you could tell you were severely outnumbered. 
But whoever it was, they weren’t shooting at anyone, just at windows – making enough noise to get your attention and to get you to come outside. 
You marched out of the room despite your father ordering you not to. And you were halfway down the grand stairs when he walked in and spotted you immediately with a smug look on his face. 
Bucky. Walked in like he owned the place. He stopped in the middle of the foyer, which was now ruined. Bits and pieces of concrete and glass all over the marble floor. Flower pots destroyed, the gilded mirror in pieces as well. He made a mess of the home you grew up in and you almost shot him right in the heart there and then. 
Here was the man who once broke your heart after making you think for years that maybe you had a chance. 
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You hissed. You could hear your father coming to a stop on the landing several steps behind you. He was unprepared. You were armed with only one handgun tucked into your pocket. Your guards were outnumbered. This was a shitshow. 
The guards – his and yours – stopped firing and now just stood all over the place on high alert. And you knew, deep down in your gut you just knew something which you weren’t ready for was about to happen. 
“I see you’re finally home, princess.” Bucky just gave you a cold smile and shoved his hands in his pockets. The action drew your attention to one specific thing. The metal arm. You frowned at it in confusion, but didn’t react. 
But that word… ‘princess’ brought back memories which chased you out of this place. And it only fueled your anger. 
“What the fuck do you want?” 
He lifted his nose slightly in the air, like the arrogant prick he had always been. “I’m here to collect what I was promised.” His voice was strong and confident. “A bride. Now you have a choice, princess. Either we do this in peace and no one gets hurt, or…” 
He didn’t even have to finish his sentence because on cue, one of his guards sneakily appeared on the landing behind you, holding a gun to your father’s head. You froze for a moment. The look on your father’s face made everything so serious all of a sudden. You had to be extra careful here. 
“You wouldn’t.” 
He scoffed, “Wouldn’t I?” 
You argued, “It’s been almost a decade.” 
“I don’t care. We were supposed to marry each other–,” 
You cut him off, “Yes, and you didn’t want that, did you? I heard you on the phone that night.” You finally confessed. “By the pool. I remember every single word that came out of your fucking mouth. So don’t come here acting like you’re entitled to–,” 
“You think you know everything, don’t you?” He smirked, shaking his head. “Is that why you ran away? And didn’t come home for a decade? Because you spied on me that night and didn’t like what you heard?” 
That did it. One moment you were standing on the stairs, afraid that your father might get hurt and the next you had your gun out and shot right at his metal arm, knowing it wouldn’t hurt him but it would make him lower his guard for just a second. 
And that one second was enough to jump him and punch him right in the jaw. Fuck, it hurt but it also felt so damn good. All those years you’d been away, you were also training in your free time. And you knew you were good at combat. 
But so was he. A few punches in and he managed to throw you down on the floor and pin you to the ground with that same metal hand around your throat, keeping you in place. You didn’t know why his guards just stood and did nothing, as though they had been ordered not to shoot at anyone here. 
But you weren’t under any such orders, so you managed to land another punch to his jaw before he yelled, “Enough!” Right in your face. “Stop this shit, or I swear to–,” 
You cut him off by punching him again, trying to get free the moment you felt his metal hand get loose around your throat. He growled in annoyance and tightened his grip. 
“You’re like a wild fucking animal. Stop!” 
You gritted your teeth at the insult and scratched his face exactly like how a wild animal would. You tried everything, tried to punch him again, tried to scratch down his neck and arms which only tore his shirt instead of his skin. You went for yet another punch and only then did you feel another pair of arms – one of his guards – pulling your hands away from his face. You thrashed and tried your hardest to break free but you couldn’t and ended up biting your own lip rather badly in the process. 
“I fucking hate you, Bucky Barnes!” You hissed, defeated, and now with a bleeding, throbbing cut on your lip which matched his. 
Bucky kept his hand around your neck as he leaned in menacingly and whispered, “Hate me all you want, princess. But you will marry me. Right here. Right now.” 
And that’s how you found yourself kissing your husband, in the foyer of your father’s ruined mansion. With your helpless father, and the many guards as witnesses. 
You pulled away from the kiss, breathless and angrier than earlier. Jaws clenched, you were ready to tackle him to the ground again, maybe actually shoot him with your gun this time, but he spoke before you could say anything. 
“Let’s go.” He spoke, and like the loyal followers that they were, all of his guards silently walked out of your house. And Bucky grabbed your hand firmly in his and began pulling you out of the house as well. 
You resisted again. “Wait! You brute!” You pulled your hand away from his and ran back up the stairs to your father. “I ruined everything, I’m sorry.” 
He just hugged you and told you to be careful and be smart. And that he forgives you. You promised you’d come to see him soon. And then you left, refusing to take Bucky’s hand again as you walked out of your father’s house. 
You needed to think. You couldn’t fight him right now. Besides, it’s not like you married him legally. All Bucky wanted was to make a scene and you let him. For now. You’d need some time to come up with a plan and decide what needed to be done. But for now… 
“If you’re thinking about running away and disappearing for a decade again, you better stop. You’re not getting away this time. You hear me?” Bucky spoke, sitting next to you in the backseat of his car as the driver drove to his side of the city, to his house surely. That authoritative tone of his made you want to scratch his face again. 
“You seem to be under the impression that you’re in control here, Barnes. Just know, I could still shoot you right now if I wanted to.” You didn’t look at him, you looked out the window. At the city that had changed in your absence. 
“Ouch.” He faked his surprise. Then proceeded to put his arm around your shoulders to pull you into his chest, leaning down he whispered into your ear, “That’s not a nice way of treating your new husband, now is it?” 
You gave him a fake smile, ignoring the way your brain thought he smelled delicious, and reached into your pocket to pull out your handgun. Placing the cold barrel right under his chin you said, “Try me, husband.” 
The driver cleared his throat in nervousness and you didn’t want to traumatise the man so you pulled your gun away but left it in Bucky’s line of sight. He pulled away then, pulling his hand away from your shoulders but placed his metal hand on your thigh. A possessive move. 
Yet that didn’t bother as much. But the metal hand? Where did that come from? What happened while you were gone? 
He answered your questions voluntarily. “Got caught in a crossfire. I got shot too many times, the arm was beyond saving. So I had the metal arm made. It’s a very intricate technology, but it works just fine.” He said, flexing the hand on your skin. 
You didn’t miss the hidden sexual connotation in that last part of his sentence. And you certainly couldn’t ignore the way your body responded to the cold, metal touch. It looked… badass. Not that you would ever tell him. 
You tried to look out the window again, but his touch on your thigh was more distracting than you wanted it to be. It was all you could focus on. Just to stop thinking about it you said, “I don’t have any of my things.” 
“It’s all been taken care of. Don’t worry.” He answered, looking down at his phone. Acting like he didn’t know his hand on your thigh was messing you up. 
Still you frowned at his answer, “What do you mean it’s been taken care of?” Then you paused and thought about it for a moment, “Did you–” You sighed, “You knew I was coming, didn’t you? Did you have people spying on me?” 
He shrugged, “You thought I would let my betrothed be out there in the world without keeping an eye on her?” He scoffed, looking up from his phone for a brief moment, “Of course I did. I know everything about you. I even know all about that secret, women-only army you created.” He added, “I was half expecting them to pop out of nowhere earlier at your father’s house.” 
You were in disbelief. This whole time you thought you’d hid well. But no. 
“Where are they anyway? Your girls?” He asked, and for once it didn’t sound like a taunt. It sounded like he was genuinely curious. 
“Probably out hunting and beheading men who think they can get away with forcing women into marrying them by threatening to kill their fathers.” You gave him another one of your fake smiles, “I’ve trained them well.” 
Bucky smiled back. “Well good. When they get here to try and free you, we could unite our forces. We’ll be untouchable then, you and I. I have the money and you have an army.” He winked. “Ultimate power couple.” 
“You won’t get away with this, Barnes.” 
He looked out of the window and said, “I just came to collect what was promised to be mine that night.” 
You argued, bitterly, “Oh we both know what happened that night.” 
“I do.” He said, “But do you? Do you really?” 
You remained quiet for a moment. This was the second time he questioned your knowledge of what truly happened that night. As if you hadn’t heard him loud and clear on that phone call. 
“You–,” 
He cut you off and looked out the window as he said, “We’re home.” 
It had been a long day. And you were running out of energy so instead of arguing some more, you just followed him out of the car and remained stunned for a moment as you looked at his house. It wasn’t his family home. This one seemed new. 
It was just as large as your father’s mansion, just a lot more contemporary compared to the more Georgian architecture-inspired one you grew up in. 
Bucky’s house sat on a sprawling green and pristine property. It was a perfect blend of sleek architecture and a glass house, which allowed the right amount of privacy but also allowed glimpses of the warm, farmhouse inspired interior. Even from outside you could tell it was homey and bright inside. 
Before you could get a word out, you felt his hands on you again. You tensed up and almost hit him again in defence but before you could, Bucky was carrying you bridal style – literally – and marching towards the large doors of his ridiculously pretty home. 
“What the fuck are you doing?” You questioned, squirming just a little in the intimate embrace. 
“Traditions,” He said, looking down at you, “Can’t have you trip at the doorstep and risk bringing bad luck into our marriage.” 
You frowned at him, reluctantly wrapping your arms around his neck for support. “You say ‘our marriage’ like it’s gonna be a real thing. It won’t, Barnes. I’ll be out of here before you–,” 
He used you to push open the door and the warm interior of the home shut you up. For some reason you never imagined someone like Bucky would live in a house that actually looked like a home. You pictured him living in some villain’s lair. 
But this was… beautiful. 
You squirmed into his arms until he finally set you down carefully. You stood there for a minute, in the foyer, just looking around. Then you couldn’t help but say, “It would be a real pain if someone just started shooting at the windows of your house like a madman, wouldn’t it?” You waved your gun in front of his face. 
“I’ll send people over tomorrow morning to fix your father’s house.” 
“You don’t even sound apologetic.” You scoffed. 
“I’m not.” 
You narrowed your eyes at him. “Was it necessary? To shoot at my house like that? You couldn’t just, I don’t know, ring the doorbell to get me to come outside? You absolutely had to be a child?” 
He smirked then said, “First of all, that isn’t your house anymore. This is where you live now, and you will call this your home. Second of all, why blame me when you acted just as childish when you decided to run away all those years ago? Third of all, I did it because, well, I do like some drama.” 
You couldn’t not believe him. “You amaze me with your stupidity, Barnes.” 
“You amaze me with your bratty attitude, Mrs. Barnes.” 
You stepped closer to him, slow and in a threatening manner. “Don’t call me that.” 
“Don’t call me that.” 
You sighed, “You know you’re still that little boy who used to bully everyone when we played as kids.” 
He clarified, “No, I bullied you because you were annoying. Everyone else was fine.” 
“I hate you.” You said with enough hostility you hoped it would shut him up. 
It didn’t. “Well, see.” He took your hand in his and said slowly as if talking you down, “That’s something we’ll work on together as a couple.” 
You pulled your hand away and were so tempted to just– 
“Come,” he said, “I’ll show you where our room is.” You began protesting immediately but he cut you off by saying, “Stop being fucking difficult. We’re married now, act like it.” 
“I want a separate room!” 
“No.” 
“I’m not sleeping with you!” 
“Then don’t. But you will sleep in my bed. Like my wife should.” 
“You’re a fucking animal!” You tried tugging your hand free from his grasp. 
Bucky had had enough. So he pinned you to the nearest surface, which happened to be the closed door of his bedroom. He grabbed both your wrists in his metal hand and pinned them above your head. His face was just inches away from yours, and he stared deep into your eyes. 
Your mind immediately went to that harsh kiss you’d shared earlier. And you hated how your body squirmed just as the thought of it. You refused to think about it any more, but his mouth was just so, so close. The cut on his lip, the slight stubble on his cheek and around his mouth, the texture of his skin, you were picking up on details you’d missed. 
Bucky spoke in a calm, deep voice which sent shivers down your spine. “Let’s be adults here, okay? You stop acting like a brat, and I’ll stop treating you like one.” He said, pressing his chest into yours. “It’s been a long day, and I know you’re running out of energy as well so stop resisting me. If I was an animal, I would’ve dragged you to bed right now and would’ve made you mine in every sense of the word.” He whispered, his voice cold and dangerous. “But I’m not. So you will walk into this room, and head straight for a warm shower and after you’re done we’re gonna clean these wounds. Am I clear?” 
You nodded quickly, like an idiot entranced by his gorgeous voice. 
“Use your words, princess. Am I clear?” 
“Yes.” 
“Good. Let’s go.” 
— 
You leaned against the counter, wrapped in a fluffy robe and another towel wrapped around your wet hair, and Bucky was cleaning the cut on your lip. 
His wounds were all cleaned. It looked like he had used a different shower while you were in here. His long hair was damp and tied into a small bun, with strands of his dark hair falling on either side of his face. He had changed into a tight black t-shirt and PJ trousers. It was frustrating to look at him. Because he looked so damn good. 
Last time you’d seen him was when he was a twenty year old boy. He’d changed since. He seemed taller somehow. Or maybe it was just the muscles making him look bigger. 
You couldn’t look away from the metal arm. And the intricate details on it. 
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” He asked, throwing the used cotton balls and napkins in the trash can. 
You didn’t miss the way he was being gentle all of a sudden. Calm voice, calm movement. Very different from the man who’d forced you to marry him just hours ago. 
“No.” You answered, turning around to look in the mirror. The bruise on your neck was very much visible now. You didn’t notice Bucky approaching you again, you didn’t notice how close he got, not until he reached out and touched your neck with his warm fingers. 
And for the first time, he sounded genuine when he said, “I’m sorry. About that.” 
You met his eyes through the mirror and remained quiet for a moment. For a brief moment you thought back to that night. What if you hadn’t heard him on the phone? What if you had married him back then? Would this be a normal, daily thing? Sharing a bathroom, a bed? 
“I punched you. Multiple times. This makes us equal.” 
Bucky scoffed, then nodded. Then said, “Come to bed when you’re done.” And left you alone in the bathroom. 
Shit. You stared at yourself in the mirror. What a day. All you wanted was to pay your father a visit and maybe spend some days at home and then fly back to where you came from. Having your father’s house be attacked, getting married, and having to share a bedroom with the man who once broke your heart… yeah, all that wasn’t in the plan. 
You changed into some comfy PJs Bucky had brought you earlier and walked out into the bedroom. You found Bucky on his phone again, standing by the foot of the bed. 
“Which side do you sleep on?” He asked, not looking up from his phone. 
“Uh, right.” You answered, because for some reason now he felt the need to ask for your opinion. 
Bucky didn’t say a word as he moved to the left side of the bed and peeled back the covers before getting in. Like this was just another day. Like this was normal. You awkwardly walked to your side of the bed and just stood there for a moment. 
“Just get in bed. I won’t touch you.” 
He didn’t even look at you as he spoke and, well, the lack of attention from him bothered you. Oh what the hell. You pulled the covers and got under them. You curled onto your side, with your back facing him. 
Soon, you heard him click something and all the lights turned off. You sensed movement behind you but that was it. He didn’t touch you. In fact, there was so much distance between you two that your back felt cold. And now that annoyed you as well. 
You couldn’t sleep. 
An hour went by, you still couldn’t sleep. 
Another hour went by, and now you’d begun tossing and turning so much that you heard Bucky groaning. 
“Will you stop that?” 
“I can’t sleep.” You mumbled.
“Don’t make it my problem. Stop moving.” 
“Wow. Some husband you are.” 
Silence. Then you felt your body sliding across the bed as Bucky wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his warm chest. 
“What the–,” 
“Shh.” He cut you off, his warm breath tickling your cheek as he spooned you from behind. “It’s cold. We could both use the warmth. Now go to sleep.” 
You scoffed, but didn’t move. “Your fancy house doesn’t have a thermostat? Fix the temperature.” 
“I like this better.” 
“I better not find your hands wandering.” 
You moved around for a bit, finding a comfortable spot. Then you moved some more and Bucky tightened his arm around you and whispered into your ear, “Stop wiggling against my cock. I understand it’s our wedding night and all but I’m too tired to do anything.” 
Your face burned in embarrassment. You tried to put some distance between your bodies, even though you liked his body heat, but thankfully Bucky pulled you right back. 
“Did I say you can move?” He chided. 
“What now, I need your permission to get comfortable in bed?” 
“Brat.” 
“Asshole.” 
— 
You didn’t know when you fell asleep at night. But the heat from Bucky’s chest definitely helped. It must’ve been that. And in the middle of the night, you must’ve searched for more heat. That was probably the only reason why you woke up and found yourself sprawled all over him, face into the crook of his neck and both your hands under his shirt, legs tangled with his. 
“You call me an animal. But look at you. Touching me while I was sleeping.” He mumbled. “Shameless.” 
You pulled away so fast, but then regretted it. Because now you missed his warmth. You shivered even under the covers. “Would it kill you to keep your damn house a little warmer?” 
He just yawned and got out of bed. “Get ready.” He said, “We might have a guest coming over. And you have to be a good little wife and play host.” 
“Fuck you.” 
“Oh you will.” He teased, “Soon.” Then he winked and walked out of the room. 
Well, he at least was giving you some privacy and let you have this bathroom all to yourself. Screw his and his mind games. First he barges into your house, forces you to marry him, then cuddles you to sleep. 
You caught yourself frowning multiple times while you showered, did some skin care, and found the closet on the other side of the room. You weren’t even surprised when you found a whole section filled with all you could need. All the shoes seemed like they would fit you, all the outfits as well. 
Nothing fazed you anymore. Not even the fact that your new husband might be a bit of a stalker. How else would he know your underwear size!? And there were drawers full of them. 
You tried not to worry too much as you got dressed. You were gonna get out of here soon anyway. 
Once dressed and ready for the day, you got downstairs and immediately heard Bucky’s voice, along with another voice. They were laughing over something. You found out where they were and approached the high-ceilinged, charming, farmhouse-inspired kitchen which blended with a spacious, cosy dining area. 
The other man had his back to you, but you knew that voice. Even though you hadn’t heard it in years. 
“Sam?” You couldn’t help but call out, lingering by the large doorway. Bucky remained leaning against the kitchen counter with a coffee mug in his hand, while Sam got up from where he sat at the breakfast counter. 
He turned around and his familiar, warm brown eyes met yours. He gave you a comforting smile. You, Sam, and Bucky all grew up together, along with some other kids from families similar to yours. And Sam had always been a sweetheart. You’d missed him. 
So you didn’t even hesitate to walk right into his arms once he opened them, wanting a hug. You squeezed him tight and said, “I thought I’d never see you again, Sammy!” 
Sam hugged you back just as tight, “I can’t believe I haven’t seen you in almost a decade.” He pulled away to look down at you before giving you a loud kiss on the cheek. Safe to say, he was just as handsome as he was when you left this place. “How have you been?” 
You looked over Sam’s broad shoulder and found a broody Bucky. “I’ve been better.” 
Sam got really serious, and was about to say something but Bucky’s voice rumbled from behind. “That’s enough hugging and smooching. Sam, stop touching my wife.” 
“Ooh, your wife.” Sam teased, before letting go of you and letting you walk out of his arms. “First of all, why didn’t you tell me you two were planning to get married this whole time?” He asked Bucky in an accusatory tone. “My childhood friends got married and I wasn’t even invited.” 
Sam sat back down at the breakfast counter, so he didn’t see the questioning stare you sent Bucky. So Sam wasn’t aware of the circumstances under which you got married? Of course he didn’t. Nobody knew, and Bucky wasn’t about to tell anyone 
“It all happened so quickly, Sam.” You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder as you said, “Bucky was… impatient. Even my father didn’t have time to prepare much. It all just, you know, happened.” You spoke as you helped yourself to some breakfast, taking a seat at the table where you could see both men well. 
You didn’t miss the way Bucky’s jaws kept clenching and unclenching as you tiptoed the line between telling the truth and lying to Sam. 
“Yeah,” Sam agreed, “I know how impatient he can be.” He glared at Bucky, who shook his head in disbelief. 
“I take it you two work together now?” You only asked because you remember how the parents would always talk about how wonderful it would be if these two boys worked together. Apparently they made a great team back then. 
“We do.” Bucky answered, placing his mug down before turning around and began chopping some things. 
“You see,” Sam began explaining in a playful tone. “After everything happened, Bucky was all along. Poor little princeling with no guidance and a kingdom to run.” You saw Bucky shaking his head at Sam’s words. Sam continued, “So I knew I had to step in and become his mentor. He wouldn’t have survived without me.” 
You made a mental note to ask about what ‘everything’ he was referring to, but couldn’t help but smile at the camaraderie between them, despite it all. Sam had always been a good company. He was the sun rays filtering through dark clouds, and Bucky was the dark, gloomy day who needed the sun’s brightness. 
“Wouldn’t have survived.” Bucky muttered, mocking his friend. “You helped me train sometimes. You introduced me to people. That’s about it.” He clarified, bringing over a bowl of chopped fruit over to you and pushed it towards you without a word said. 
You liked fruits for breakfast. And you assumed he remembered. But he did it all too casually. As if he did it every day. You didn’t want to cause a scene so you accepted the bowl quietly. 
“That’s about it?” Sam shook his head, then turned to you. “I took care of him like a parent–,”
“No you didn’t. You–” 
“–and this is how he treats me. I should’ve let you bleed out from that bullet wound that one time. Maybe you wouldn’t be here disrespecting me then.” 
You chuckled, clearly on Sam’s team. Bucky didn’t like that. “What about my wife then? Who would be taking care of her?” 
“I would.” Sam answered without missing a beat. “We all know if not you then I was gonna marry her.” He turned to you, knowing damn well he was gonna get a reaction out of Bucky any time now. Sam lived to mess with Bucky after all. He always did, ever since you were all kids. “Wouldn’t you have married me if Bucky had died?” He asked you with that mischievous smile on his face. 
“I–,” 
“You answer that and you’ll never see Sam again.” Bucky said, narrowing his eyes at you, before you couldn’t get a word out of your mouth. 
Sam smirked triumphantly. 
You rolled your eyes at Bucky and looked right at Sam and said, “I would’ve married you in a heartbeat, Sammy.” 
Sam went to grab your hand, surely to bring it up to his lips for a kiss, but Bucky threw a napkin right at him before he could. 
“You touch my wife again and I swear–,” 
“Must you always threaten people?” You asked, glaring at Bucky. 
He glared back. And opened his mouth to say something but Sam cut him off. “Hey, hey, kids. No fighting.” He quickly changed the topic, “Now, since you have gotten married and no one was there, how about a party? To announce it to everyone? We could invite the whole city.” 
Party. Yeah right. The last time you attended an extravagant party you had your heart broken. Not just broken, but stepped onto and crushed to a pulp. 
You went to say no, “Maybe we shouldn’t–,” 
But Bucky declared, “Absolutely we should. After all, we waited almost a decade to marry each other.” He looked right at you as he said that. “It’s time everyone knows you’re finally mine.” 
“Perfect!” Sam began planning immediately. He had always been the life of all parties, and he loved them. 
While you occasionally answered his questions, you didn’t stop glaring at your husband while you finished your breakfast. There was something he was hiding. You were certain of it. But what? 
— 
A couple days later, it was finally the night of the party. 
The past few days had been more or less similar. You’d always wake up sprawled all over Bucky’s chest, and he always made a teasing comment about it. You’d have breakfast in silence, after which he’d disappear and then he’d come home in the evenings. You never talked while having dinner. 
The one time you did talk, it didn’t end well. 
You brought it up at dinner. “I tried to go out today. Your people followed me into the city.” 
“Our people.” He corrected. Bucky didn’t find anything wrong with that apparently because he simply said, “And they’re your security detail. They’ve been ordered to follow you.” 
“So I don’t escape?” 
“So you’re always safe.” 
“Oh come on. You can’t keep me here forever.” 
He shrugged, “You’re not being kept. This is your home, we’re married. This is where you live now.” 
You stood up from the table.You didn’t care that the housekeepers you’d been recently introduced to could hear. “And who are you to make that decision for me?” You asked, in a surprisingly calm tone. 
He replied in a similar tone. “Your husband.” 
You sighed, trying your hardest to keep it all contained. “I have a life, you know? A totally separate life I’ve been living since I left this place. I have to get back to it at some point. You proved your point. Now let me go.” 
He ignored all of that. “I’m working on transferring all your businesses and staff here.” He announced. “I’m buying a brand new building in the city, you can have it and set it up however you want. The only thing I can’t find is your secret army of highly trained soldiers.” 
“You’ll never find my girls.” 
“Why’s that?” 
“They’re trained to outrun men like you. All men, in fact.” You added, “I made sure of that. I made sure they’d never be used and moved around like pieces on a chessboard then discarded by people like you.” 
“Sounds like you speak from experience.” 
“Fuck you, Barnes.” You spat before walking away. 
You made sure to sleep on the very edge of the gigantic bed that night, as far away from him as possible. But in the morning, you still woke up snuggled into his chest, on his side of the bed, like you’d been trying to burrow under his skin seeking warmth at night. 
You didn’t speak after that. You made sure to ignore him. Each time you left the house, to go see your father or to just roam around the city you’d missed so much, you’d look in the rear view mirror and find big, bulky SUVs following you around. 
And here you were now, after days of silent treatment, you stood in front of the large mirror in the closet of your bedroom and watched your reflection. Of course the bastard had chosen an extravagant evening gown for you to wear which looked eerily similar to the one you wore that night for your birthday almost ten years ago. 
Except this one was much more elegant. And looked a lot like a wedding dress. With its simple square neckline, thin straps, fitted bodice and a majestic skirt. All white and sparkly. The last time you felt like a princess, the night ended terribly. So this time you were afraid to even let yourself appreciate the beautiful woman in the mirror who stared back at you. 
You kept fidgeting, with the skirt of the dress, watching it swish around. You didn’t notice Bucky approaching you from behind. Not until he stood right behind you, his chest brushing against your slight exposed back. 
He looked… unreal in his all black suit. Shiny black tie and a small shiny pin. His hair was perfect as always, and his all black outfit really made his eyes seem bluer than ever. Or maybe it was the lights in this closet that did it. But it made you notice the lines by his eyes, which gave away just how much time had gone by. 
He was still that bad boy with tattoos whom you had a crush on, who made your race whenever he looked at you. Except now he was older, meaner. And your husband. Whom you hated. 
Did you? 
You tensed up when he placed a hand on your waist, right where the bodice and skirt were sewn together. You met his eyes through the mirror, but said nothing. You had no mean words to throw at him this time and neither did he. 
“You look beautiful.” He said, leaning in just a little to rest his cheek against your temple. 
You froze at the soft touch which drove you insane. You must be ovulating, you thought, because there was no way that mere touch was making your heart race like this for no other reason. You began breathing faster, that’s how fast your heart was racing. 
You almost leaned into his touch, ready to forget it all just for one moment of warmth. Of peace and quiet. Just one moment to appreciate that you looked beautiful and you had your husband’s attention and all was well. To appreciate that you two look great together. To stop fighting this weird alchemy between you two which kept drawing you to one another no matter what. But then you remembered. 
“Do I?” You asked, keeping your voice steady. “You sure I don’t look like a kid’s toy with this ridiculous dress on?” 
He remembered too, judging by the look on his face. He looked surprised, then briefly apologetic before settling on a familiar, broody frown. “What did I say about being a brat?” 
“I’ll stop being a brat when you stop being an asshole.” You scoffed. “You always were so… careless. With people. With everything. Always thinking you were above everyone else, ever since we were just kids.” You added, “I hate you.” 
He smirked, then grabbed your elbow and turned you around so he could look at you, or glare at you with his ocean blue eyes. “You didn’t hate me back then, did you?” He pushed you against the closest surface, which happened to be a wooden dresser. “You craved my attention back then. You used to find excuses to hold my hand when we were little. When we got older you used to hate it when I looked at other girls at school. Now look at you. You’re in my house, you sleep in my bed.” He leaned in, whispering in your ear, “You’re my wife. Then why do you keep resisting me, hmm?” 
“I was stupid back then. Wasted so much time trying to get your attention, and all I ever was to you was a whiny, bratty–,” You cut yourself off with a surprised gasp as you watched Bucky lower to his knees in front of you, his hands lifting the skirt of your dress. He was rough with it, crumpling it in his strong fists. “What are you doing?” You asked, shocked and surprised but not making a move to get away. “You– you’re ruining my dress.” 
He looked up at you, bunching some of the fabric near your waist and holding the front part of your dress up, pinning the bunched up skirt at your abdomen. As if he wanted to– 
Your entire face burned when you realised just how close and intimate this was. 
“I bought this dress. I’ll ruin it if I want to.” He spoke in that arrogant tone you weren’t sure you entirely hated at this moment. “You’re lucky I’m not tearing it off of you.” 
“And you’re lucky I’m not–,” 
He cut you off by leaning in and kissing your inner thigh. Just like that. As if you weren’t on the verge of arguing just now. You were still processing that soft kiss he left on your thigh, and he was already moving to spread your legs apart as he slowly looked up, waiting to see if you’d tell him to stop or push him away. 
You didn’t. 
His eyes remained focused on your face as his hand reached out and he ran his metal knuckles between your legs, along your wet folds through your thin underwear, making you shudder at his mere touch. You flinched at the cold, but didn’t pull away. 
“You’re dripping.” He commented, slowly sliding down your underwear. “Does arguing with me turn you on, baby? Is that why you do it all the time?” He smirked, finally throwing your underwear to the side. 
You glared at him, opening your mouth to argue yet again but you ended up just letting out a soft moan as you felt his metal fingertips gently trail up and down your legs. He chuckled at how sensitive and responsive you were. Bucky placed a kiss on your inner thigh again and you gasped.
“Looks like you haven’t been taken care of in a while.” He said, moving his fingers over your clit, circling it slowly. “Have you?” He sounded like he was accusing you.
“No.” You hissed, angry at how much you didn’t mind his touch. “You barged in and married me before I could go out and find someone who might–,” 
“I tolerate you talking to and about Sam because he’s our friend.” He cut you off. “But if I hear you talking about any other man, I promise I will be committing unnecessary crimes and it’ll all be on you.” He paused, glaring at you. “You hear me?” 
You nodded. Fuck he looked good from up here. 
He held your stare as he leaned in and placed his mouth to your core, giving your clit a firm such before his warm tongue slipped past your folds and teased your dripping hole. One hand holding part of your dress up while the metal one worked in tandem with his tongue, circling your throbbing clit and parting your wet folds with ease. 
“Should’ve known you’d taste like fucking heaven,” He whispered, almost to himself. 
You couldn’t hold the moans and whimpers in, feeling his stubble rubbing against your soft skin, craving more of it. You couldn’t help but slide hesitant fingers into his hair, pulling him closer. “Please, more…” You whined. 
That made him wild. And he ate you out relentlessly, taking his time and learning what worked for you and what didn’t, until your legs were shaking and your moans were louder. 
He slid his fingers, just a knuckle deep inside you and watched how much you loved that. “That feels good, doesn’t it, baby?” 
You only whimpered in response. 
When he was certain you were right on the edge, hips moving in a frantic way which made you grind against his fingers and tongue, only then did he pull away and let go of your dress before standing back up to face you with a condescending smirk. 
“You think it’s that easy?” He spoke, but you focused more on the wetness coating his lips rather than his words. 
You blinked a couple of times to break out of whatever spell he’d just put you under using that damned mouth and fingers of his. He’d… he’d dared bring you right to the edge. But hadn’t let you come. 
You were breathing heavily, feeling hot and tingly all over. 
He chuckled, enjoying the speechlessness which was rare when it came to you. “If you want more, then behave tonight. Be good and tell everyone how in love we are and all the nice things, and I promise I’ll take care of you later tonight. Okay?“
You knew what he was doing. He wanted you to tell as many people as possible because the more people knew, the harder it would be for you to sneak out of this place again. 
He didn’t even wait for a response. He just licked his lips clean, shamelessly holding your stare while he did. Then turned to the mirror and fixed his suit before bending down to pick up your discarded underwear. You looked away, embarrassed but waiting for him to hand it to you. 
Except he didn’t. He pocketed it like it was nothing and said, “Come on, our guests are waiting.” Then he walked out of the room like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t made you almost lose your mind just minutes ago. Like he didn’t have his tongue and fingers inside you. Like he hadn’t gotten so close to making you come. 
Like your heart wasn’t still racing even after he’d left the room. 
Eventually, you calmed down. Fixed your makeup, hair and dress again before heading towards the temporary, clear outdoor party tent Sam had people install in Bucky’s huge backyard. The closer you got, the more it looked straight out of a fairytale. Given the clear walls, you could see the golden lights and decor inside. 
The chandeliers, the floral arrangements, the tables and the dance floor where people danced with their partners. 
Speaking of partners, there by the entrance stood a tall, dark figure. Your husband. 
“Took you a while.” He muttered once you got close enough to him. 
You stopped by his side and sighed. Then answered in a monotone voice, trying to hide how bothered you were. “Well, some conceited asshole left me to deal with a mess he made so there’s that.” 
Bucky snickered. “Don’t act so indifferent. You were dripping all over my tongue and hand just minutes ago.” 
“Keep your voice down.” You hissed. 
“Nothing to be ashamed of. It’s not taboo for a husband to take care of his wife, you know?” He sounded just as annoying as you expected he would. 
You looked down and noticed he had his elbow extended out for you to take. You took it and spoke once you two began walking into the venue. “If you think you are getting anywhere near me to take care of me again, husband, you are dead fucking wrong.” You put a fake smile on as people began noticing your arrival and flocked to you. 
Bucky whispered one last thing into your ear before he left you in the care of the excited, curious, and loud group of ladies coming your way, “Oh you’ll beg me to touch you soon enough, wife.” 
Then he was gone again. Leaving you right on that edge again. 
Damn him! 
You had to give it to Sam, he knew how to organise a party. The decor, the food, the music, the performances, all of it was perfect. 
He even re-introduced to all the people you might have forgotten while you were gone. And naturally everyone had questions. You repeated the same answers to them all. The same lies. 
Where were you this whole time? You wanted to do your own thing, and make your own name so you decided to get away from home. 
Why did you leave right after it was announced that you were to marry Bucky Barnes? Oh your father never said when you were to marry him. He just said you would. Besides, both you and Bucky were too young to marry back then. 
Did Bucky know you were going to be gone? Of course he did! You two were childhood sweethearts after all. Yes, you did keep in touch this whole time and only fell more and more in love. Yes, distance does make the heart grow fonder and all. 
Why did the wedding happen so suddenly and in secret? After almost a decade of being far apart from each other, you two could no longer wait anymore. So you eloped the day you came back. 
There are rumours that your father and Bucky have some kind of tension going on between them, is any of it true? That was the one question you didn’t feel too confident about. Because your father never ended up telling you why that was. How did the rivalry start? You lied and said, it’s just because you eloped. Your father wanted to be involved but you were too in love to think straight. So now your father was giving your poor husband a hard time for stealing his little girl. 
As you paraded around and met everyone, you could feel Bucky’s eyes on you at all times. You didn’t have to look to know. You could feel the burning sensation along your back and you just knew he was watching you. 
And he watched all night. Up until the moment people began leaving and you had no choice but to find him again, not knowing what else to do. 
“You lie very well.” He commented, holding his elbow out for you to take again. 
You did. And also leaned into him a little because you had been standing for too many hours. You decided to ignore the hostility for just a minute. “Yes, I’m a natural.” 
“Everyone bought your bullshit about how we are childhood sweethearts turned lovers.” He whispered, turning his head to face you. 
“Well, you did say to make it believable.” 
“Oh it is.” He boasted, “Especially since you’ve been looking at me like that the whole night.” 
You rolled your eyes, “How?” 
“With longing, and desire. You’re all hot and bothered. You crave my tongue back on that throbbing little clit, don’t you?” 
“You’re delusional, Barnes.” 
“And you’re dripping wet for me, Mrs. Barnes.” 
— 
The party ended, and after Sam left you and Bucky made your way back inside the house. Sam, being the angel that he was, had made sure a clean up crew would be here early the next morning so you had nothing to worry about. 
Not that it should bother you whether or not Bucky’s house is tidy. 
You had a faint smile on your face as you went about your nighttime routine. Shower, skin care, a quick snack in the kitchen. And while you were downstairs, searching the pantry for something sweet, you saw Bucky near the thermostat. 
The pantry hid you well, so Bucky didn’t see you. But you watched him mess with the temperature. You squinted and realised he was lowering it. The damned bastard was making it colder! No wonder you were freezing each night and woke up each morning snuggled up to him, basking in his warmth. 
This asshole. 
You remained in hiding until Bucky left, and this time as you made your way upstairs you vowed you wouldn’t reach for his warmth. No matter how cold it got. And he wouldn’t get to use you as a personal heated blanket either. Let him freeze. 
You barely lasted thirty minutes under the covers. 
And he was quiet and didn’t move so you thought he was asleep already as you carefully scooted a little bit closer, trying to feel where he was in the dark. If only this bed wasn’t so damn big. You patted around, trying not to move to much as you– 
“I can hear you, you know? If you want to cuddle, just say it.” 
You stopped moving immediately. “Shut up.” You muttered, frowning at him even though he couldn’t see it. You could see his faint silhouette in the dark, so you knew when he turned on his side to face you. 
“What is it, wife? You need some warmth on this cold, cold night?” He asked in that mocking tone of his. 
“No.” You answered, lying. Because yes you did. 
He muttered ‘stubborn brat’ under his breath and then grabbed you and pulled you close until your back was completely pressed against his chest. His warm, comfy chest. You bit back a sigh of relief once you felt his body heating wrapping you in a cocoon. 
“I saw you messing with the thermostat.” You admitted. 
“Oh?”
“Yes. You make it cold on purpose.” 
“Oh no.” He mocked. “ Why didn’t you fix it then?” He asked, and it hit you how childish this was. He leaned in just enough so that his lips brushed against your cheek when he spoke. “Could it be that you like cuddling with me?” 
“Shut up.” 
He scoffed, finally wrapping his arms around you, but you hissed upon feeling his metal arm on your body.  
“It’s cold.” 
“Warm it up for me then.” 
“What–” 
You stopped talking the moment Bucky grabbed one of your legs and hooked it on top of his, spreading your legs to make room for his hand as you both remained on your sides, with him spooning you from behind. 
His metal hand found itself sliding into your shorts, past your underwear and he cupped you with such confidence and authority that you couldn’t help leaning into and grinding into his touch. His other hand slid under your pillow and down so he could grab and give your breast a firm squeeze. 
Fuck. His hands felt like they were touching you everywhere. 
“I told you I’d take care of you if you behaved.” He whispered into your ear. “Time for a little reward, wife.” 
He slid two fingers inside you, you gasped at the feeling of him being knuckles deep inside you. You whined as he stretched you a little, moving his fingers around until your hips were moving on their own, trying to get him to move some more. 
He chuckled. “That feels good?” He murmured into your ear. 
His voice, his warmth, the softness of his embrace, the unhurried way his fingers were moving in and out of you, sliding over your clit and stroking your walls like he had all the time in the world. 
Your hands wrapped around his metal wrist, keeping his hand in place as you rode his fingers the way you wanted. Hips moving forward and causing his fingers to slide in and out, while you moaned and whimpered. 
His lips brushed against your cheek over and over again as he whispered against your skin, “See how nice it is when you behave? Hmm? You can have me whenever you want, baby. Just be good for me, and I’ll do anything for you.” 
The animosity between you was forgotten at this moment. Here, in this dark room the past didn’t matter for a few minutes. Nothing mattered, just that you wanted something and he was giving it to you. 
His thumb caressed your clit, teasing it a little more until you cried out, “Bucky, please…” 
He froze. You did too. Then he chuckled and said, “So all is takes is a little finger fucking and now you have manners and you call me by my name?” He sounded just as annoyingly playful as you knew he would. 
“Oh fuck you!” You spat, then immediately let out a loud moan as he sped up and really fucked you with his fingers until you were a whimpering mess. “Please, please, please…” 
“What did I say, huh?” He hissed. “Keep acting like a fucking brat and you’ll be treated like one.” He kept his fingers moving in and out of you. “I planned on really taking care of you tonight, but you know what? This is all you’re gonna get.” 
Your moans and whimpers got louder and louder until you began clenching around his fingers, coming undone with a loud cry of his name. Body shaking and your hips grinding down on his hand as you savoured the last moments of your orgasm before he pulled out and pulled away from you. 
You thought he’d go right back to sleep but then you felt him get out of bed. “Where are you–,” 
“I’ll fix the temperature.” He mumbled, sounding annoyed. Rightfully so. “Go to sleep.” 
And that was the last you heard or saw of him until the morning because you passed out right after. You didn’t even know if he returned to bed or not. Not that you cared much. 
Right? 
— 
Things changed after that night. 
A lot changed actually. Bucky had, miraculously, managed to uproot ten years of your life from elsewhere and planted it right here in the city. He took you to the building he’d been getting ready for you and it sure was something. You didn’t know what you expected but a brand new skyscraper was not what you had in mind. 
The day he handed over papers and keys and gave you a tour of the huge building was the first time you felt a shift in this… bond you shared with him. 
“Thank you.” You simply said as you both stepped into the shiny elevator so he could take you all the up to the top floor, to show you to your new office. 
Bucky slid his hands in his pockets and turned to face you. “You think being nice equals sexual favours from me, wife?” 
You could’ve told him to shut it. Or told him to go get fucked. But he was trying to be good to you, wasn’t he? Even after all he did, he wanted you next to him for some unknown reason and frankly you were tired of resisting. Your entire life was here now anyway. It wouldn’t hurt to… try. Would it? 
So instead you answered with, “Doesn’t it?” 
Bucky narrowed his eyes at you, searching for the catch. He didn’t find any so he said, “We’ll see about that.” 
And that night he followed you into the shower and kissed you hard under the falling water. “I see you behaved yourself today.” He whispered against your mouth. 
You pulled him closer by grabbing his neck and said, “Do I get a reward then?” 
He didn’t say anything, just kissed you hard again and walked the two of you backwards until your back collided with the cold clear glass of the shower cubicle. Then he pulled away, looked down into your eyes. His own filled with lust and hunger as he asked, “You’re gonna let me fuck you?” 
You nodded quickly before saying, “Yes. Please.” 
He didn’t waste a single moment. He grabbed one of your legs and hooked it to his hip, spreading you open. He kissed you senseless again while he pushed inside of you. You moaned into the kiss as he filled you up, his cock stretching you out, making you whine and whimper as he slow fucked you. 
“Fuck…” He breathily moaned against your open mouth while he moved against you. Pushing deeper, in and out of you until your moans and whimpers got louder and louder. The sound of the water falling from the shower drowned out most of it, so he fucked you until you moaned loud enough that he could hear you over the falling water. 
“Please,” You cried out. Weeks of frustration wanting to be let out. “Please, Buck…” Your hands wrapped around his shoulders, and you held on while he fucked you. 
Bucky almost froze again at the sound of his nickname falling from your lips. But he maintained his composure and sped up into you, feeling your walls clenching around him, gripping his cock. 
“You’ve been good today,” He said, noticing the way you clenched around him hard at the sound of praise. “You didn’t talk back, not once. Is it because you wanted this cock, baby?” 
You whined in response. Feeling his damp skin rubbing against yours, and for a brief moment you wanted to live in this moment forever. 
“Oh, poor baby.” He gave you a messy, heated kiss then said, “It’s all yours, you know? You just have to ask nicely. And you can have it whenever you want.” 
“Please…” You begged again, your pride nowhere in sight. “Please, Bucky.” 
“Come for me, baby…” He breathed against your skin. His hands held you in place as he pounded into you. “Come for me.” 
You did, moaning so loud it was all he heard as he came right after you. 
— 
It became a daily thing over the next few weeks. You’d seek Bucky out at random times during the day or more often right when he’d get into bed at night. 
“Were you good today, wife?” He asked, his hands already moving all over you trying to undress you as fast as he could. 
“Yes,” You breathed into his ear, your hands touching him all over his tattooed chest. “I even made you breakfast, remember?” 
“Those burnt pancakes count?” 
You shut him up by kissing him, pulling him down onto the bed and straddling him, then proceeded to ride him until you were both moaning and spent, too tired to move. 
Things got… playful. 
Oftentimes you’d catch yourself wondering why you weren’t actively working to get out of here. But your whole life was here now. Work, your family, and your husband. You didn’t hate Bucky as much as you thought you would. Just a few months ago you wanted to kill him on sight but now… 
“I saw the new building you work at. He bought you that?” Your father asked one morning when you went over to join him for breakfast. 
You cleared your throat and answered, “He did. He moved everything here. My businesses, my staff, all of it.” 
“And the girls?” He asked, referring to the infamous, feared, and fierce army you had raised and trained over the last ten years. 
“My girls are free to go wherever they want to.” You let pride fill you as you thought of them. “Besides, they don’t have to be here for me to know I can always count on them. They’re just a phone call away.” You explained. “Plus they have work to do. People to save, women to recruit. You know, the usual.” 
“I’m proud of you, you know?” 
You smiled at your father. Then a few moments passed and you couldn’t help but ask, “What happened after I left? Where is the rest of Bucky’s family?” 
Your father looked surprised. “He didn’t tell you?” 
“Tell me what?” 
Your father shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now. They’re all gone anyway. Plus the boy, he… he treats you right, doesn’t he?” 
You nodded. Then left it at that. You wanted a peaceful morning with your father, you didn’t want to ruin it by insisting he tell you about whatever it was that he wanted to keep in the past. 
But it bothered you, knowing that something happened while you were gone that you knew nothing about and everyone refused to tell you about it. 
All except one man. Your beloved friend, Sam. 
He showed up one morning, demanding to see Bucky. 
“He said he has an important phone call to attend to. With someone named Steve. He’s been outside for over an hour now,” You explained to Sam, who stood at the foyer looking disappointed, “It looks like he’ll be out for quite some time.” 
Sam frowned, and sighed. “He said to come over for a round of golf.” He sounded like he’d been betrayed. “Ever since he started doing business and being friendly with that Steve guy,” Sam complained, “That bitch has been trying to steal my best friend.” 
You chuckled and grabbed his hand to lead him further into the house. “I’m sorry my husband ruined your playdate, Sammy. But you can hang out with me.” 
Sam reluctantly agreed only after you promised to make him blueberry muffins. He liked those ever since you were kids. 
He agreed to help, and you both had a nice, comfortable conversation going while you worked. You caught yourself shaking your head a few times thinking about how just a few months ago if someone had told you you’d be in Bucky’s kitchen making muffins you wouldn’t believe it. 
But here you were now. 
Then Sam casually said, “I’m glad you two worked it out, you know? You’re so perfect for each other. Even back when we were kids, remember how everyone used to tease you two and say you would surely marry one another?” He laughed. “I mean after he told me all about how you heard him on the phone with me by the pool, I was worried you might never clear up the misunderstanding.” He chuckled, keeping his eyes down as he lined the muffin tin so didn’t see the way you froze. Sam continued, “I thought that’s why you left when I heard about your sudden disappearance. But–”
You cut him off, heart racing as memories of that night came flooding back in. “Sam… what do you mean on the phone with you?” 
Sam looked up, frowning. “That night of your twentieth birthday. Remember how you found Bucky by the pool? He was on the phone with me that night. He was so angry when he told me what his family was planning to do to yours, how they were going to–,” Sam cut himself off as the realisation set in. “Did he not tell you the truth?” 
Your heart pounded. Something was wrong. 
“Tell me what truth?” 
Sam’s eyes softened. “Oh, I shouldn’t be the one to–,”
“Sammy, please.” You begged in a whisper. “Even my father refuses to tell me anything. I have the right to know. What happened?” 
Sam tried his hardest to make sense as he told you everything in a rush. “Look, something went wrong back then. Bucky’s family began siding with the rivals and they were trying to take your father down. They tricked your dad into thinking that getting you and Bucky married would be a good idea and well, your father chose to believe his friends so he made that announcement at the party.” Sam sighed, “But Bucky’s family were planning something really bad. They were going to use the wedding as an excuse to gather all your family in one place and… end all of you. Just so they’d be able to expand their territory. Bucky found out about this plan and he was pissed. So that night, he called me. To vent.” 
You felt your eyes begin to water. 
Sam continued. “But then you found him. I remember him whispering to me that you were doing a terrible job at hiding behind a plant or some shit. Then your huge gown gave away your hiding spot. But given you were listening, Bucky decided he’d get you annoyed enough to have you at least try to call off the wedding which would buy us some time to figure out what to do. That’s when he began saying those things about you. Trying his hardest to sound like he truly did not want to marry you.” Sam sighed, “I mean there might have been a better way of doing it rather than fake dialogues on a phone call, but we were twenty year old boys. We didn’t know better. We didn’t know you’d write that note and just disappear.” 
What the actual fuck. 
“Sam…” You whispered in disbelief. 
He shook his head. “Please tell me you didn’t truly believe all that. He lied when he said those things that night, you know? Bucky liked you ever since we were kids. You don't remember how he used to get mad at me whenever I was around you for too long? How he always ignored your hiding spots when we played just so you’d win at hide-and-seek? You don’t remember how he used to bully your stupid boyfriends as we got a older?” 
You couldn’t believe any of this. But Sam would never lie to you. 
“Wait,” Sam put the pieces together. “So you didn’t know about any of this?” 
You closed your eyes and sighed, “I didn’t. I heard all the things he said that night and… I had spent my entire life loving him and I thought…” You sighed. “I was young and stupid and heartbroken so I just left.” Then you explained. “I got back recently, Bucky made this whole show of raining down bullets at my father’s house and, well, we kinda got married that same day, in my father’s destroyed foyer.” 
“You didn’t talk to each other this whole time?” Sam was in disbelief. “Oh for fuck’s sake. And I thought Bucky just never mentioned you while you’ve been gone because… well, he’s not exactly good at the whole heart to heart thing. He’s Bucky.” 
Your surprise morphed into anger really quickly. “I need to find my husband.” You said, quickly walking out of the kitchen. 
Sam yelled behind you, “I'm gonna take this muffin batter and go before he shoots me after he finds out I told you all this!” 
You just yelled back, “Bye Sammy, I love you”
Sam’s voice sounded distant as he yelled back, “Don’t let him hear you!” 
You ran out to the back, where Bucky said he would be. And you found him by the pool. Again. The sight of him standing there gave you déjà-vu. Except he wasn’t your twenty-year old crush, in a black suit, arguing with who turned out to be Sam, on the night of your birthday anymore. 
He was older now, your husband, wearing dark trousers and a loose white-button up shirt, standing by the pool with the sun setting behind him. You stood on the patio, for a second more, admiring him. The metal hand casually shoved in his pocket and his heavily tattooed arm held a phone to his ear. 
You called out, no longer containing your anger. “You absolute piece of shit!” 
Bucky looked towards you and just frowned, before rolling his eyes. Then said on the phone, “Hang on a minute, Steve. My wife’s angry at me again.” He lowered the phone to his chest and whispered to you, “What is it this time?” 
“How long were you going to keep the truth from me?” You accused him. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” 
He raised the phone to his ear again and said, “I’ll call you later Steve, something came up.” Then he hung up, tossed his phone onto one of the lounge chairs before turning to face you again. “Don’t get mad–”
“Stop telling me what to do!” 
He sighed. “Did Sam tell you anything? I saw his car coming in earlier.” 
You hissed, “Oh leave him alone! He’s a good man who doesn’t lie to me!” 
Bucky shook his head, understanding that you knew all about what he’d been hiding, and too calmly said, “They were gonna kill you. All of you. Not just your family members, but the guards, the family friends, the members of your family who aren’t even in this life – all of you. I had to do something. My folks were wrong, I couldn’t let innocent people die just because my family got too power hungry.” 
You took a step forward, “Why didn’t you tell me before I left? I would’ve talked to someone.” 
“We barely even talked to each other as we got older. I thought you wouldn’t believe me.” 
“But you could’ve at least tried to say something!” 
He was quiet for a moment. Then said, “I came to see you the next day.” He confessed. “The morning after the party. But your father had found your note and you’d already left. You never mentioned exactly why you left in the note, so I let him think it was because of me.” He explained, “Since there would be no wedding I didn’t have to worry anymore. But the threat remained. So I goaded your father into a fight. He took the bait and tried to shoot at me. He missed, of course. But enough people heard about it so he ended up declaring war against my family.” 
He paused. You listened quietly. 
“No one knew it was all because of me. But at least from then on, your father was more cautious. And he began hating my folks. And they couldn’t keep pretending to be his friend for much longer either. All the truth began spilling out. Soon the city was divided and the attacks began. Allies became enemies, just like that.” 
You were quiet. Processing everything. All of that shit happened and you were not aware. 
For some reason, you asked, “During those attacks… Is that when you lost your arm?”
You only realised you’d been stepping closer and closer to him when he raised said metal arm and touched your cheek gently. He smiled and said, “No, baby. That was a different time.” 
You had a tear sliding down your face. He wiped it away. “What happened then?” You asked. 
“My folks didn’t stand a chance. Your father was not only angry and betrayed, but he was also sad that he lost you because of them, or me.” Bucky explained. “It got… really bad. Your father lost a lot of his guys. Then he got angrier. So he stopped responding to the petty attacks and came after my folks directly.” 
“He killed them?” They were his friends once. 
Bucky said, “He still doesn’t know I helped him all the way until the end.” 
“But he spared you.” 
Bucky smirked. “He just could never catch me.” 
“But your family…” Bucky went against his own you realised. 
“They were bad people. Not just because of what they planned to do to you but…” He sighed. “They were doing bad things in the background. Dealing in substances, and people.” He spared you the gory details. 
But you understood.  
“Why didn’t you tell me all this that day we got married?” 
“You wouldn’t have believed me. You had just spent ten years hating me.” He shrugged. “But hey, it kept you safe.” 
You stepped closer to him, feeling tired with all that you felt inside you. “So you never meant the things you said that night?” 
Bucky pulled you close, cupping your face in his hands. “I have loved you my entire life. I never stopped.” 
You sniffled, looking up into his pretty eyes. “We lost so much time. I spent years hating you for nothing.” It hurt thinking about it. 
He smiled at you, “I should’ve thought it through better. But I was young and rash, and my family threatened to kill the girl I loved. I thought I was doing the right thing by pushing you away.” He sighed. “I just didn’t think I was going to lose you for almost a decade. I was always aware of where you were and what you did in life in those years. I was so proud of everything you did, the name you made for yourself. But I couldn’t reach you. You were angry and you hated me. So I waited. And then you came back and… I needed you with me. I’m sorry, I couldn’t wait any longer.” 
You wrapped your arms around him, shoving your face into the crook of his neck as you let the tears fall quietly. 
“Shh,” He whispered, running a comforting hand down your back. “It’s okay now, I’m here. We’re okay.” 
“I’ve been mean to you.” You whispered. “I’m sorry.” 
He chuckled quietly, “And I shot at your father’s house. We’re equal.” 
“I… I love you too, you know?” You sniffled. 
Bucky pulled away so he could look down at your teary face. “Sorry to say this, wife, but this isn’t half as romantic as the first time you told me you loved me.” 
You frowned. “What?” Did you talk in your sleep? Oh no. Did you? “When did I say it?” 
“We were seven, playing in the hedge maze in your father’s backyard.” He smiled, thinking about that day. “He had just had a new water fountain placed in there, and you wanted to show it to me. You must have thought it was pretty and that I needed to see it too. Then you dragged me all the way there and told me you loved me.” He smirked, “Seven-year old you would be disappointed in you right now.” 
A chuckle escaped your lips at the faded memory. “I wish we could go back in time.” 
“Well, we can’t. But we can have the rest of our lives together.” 
You sniffled again, wiped your tears. Then nodded, and leaned in for a kiss. Deepening it the moment he kissed you back. Your fingers found their way into his longish hair and you gently tugged at his roots. 
He smiled into the kiss when you whispered against his lips, “I like you with long hair.” 
“I see you’re being nice again,” He murmured in between kisses, “Does my wife need something?” 
You giggled this time. “I want you, Buck. Just you.” 
“You have me.” He said. “Always.”
3K notes · View notes
moonlitdesertdreams · 1 month
Text
Stuck like glue
Request: "I'm going to scream your domestic character joining coop on his travels from her cabin is SO good 😭 I was wondering if you would write something with the same character in her cabin when coop turns up from nearby having taken one too many bullets? Or maybe he's sick and needs some jet. Some hurt/comfort fluffy sweetness"
A/N: Thank you to the awesome anon who sent the idea! Maybe not AS fluffy as we wanted, but there's for sure some soft Ghoul going on in here. And, oh yeah, the reader has a dog now. No description of said dog has been given, so please imagine as you'd wish.
Tags: Fallout, Cooper Howard, Cooper Howard x F!Reader, Cooper Howard x You, Ghoul x Reader
WARNINGS: Canon-Typical language and violence, brief mentions of sexual interaction.
Summary: Your favorite Ghoul needs to be patched up after a spat with some Raiders, and you always know just how to make him feel better.
Word Count: 2.0k+
Gif credit to @elisefrost from this set
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You’re outside attempting to hang clothes to dry when you hear it. 
The soft but distinct sound of jingling metal comes from behind your cabin. You set one hand on the pistol strapped to your thigh and walk in that direction, eyes peeled for any movement. A bark echoes the sound from your porch, and you snap at your four-legged companion in an attempt to get him to stay. 
“Tiger!” You hiss. “Quit!”
 He relents with an indignant huff and returns to the porch, while the metallic noise keeps up in a steady pattern, akin to the cadence of a slow walk. You tilt your head at the thought and eventually move the hand off your pistol; only one person would dare tread this close in broad daylight with such carelessness.
“Coop?”
You don’t see him anywhere, but you’re almost certain it was the sounds of his old spurs that caught your attention. 
“Cooper if you’re tryna scare me, you know I'll gut you.” The threat is an empty one, but saying it gives you some hope that it’s indeed him and not a Raider or Slaver looking to score some loot. 
“No need, babydoll.” His voice sounds ragged, tired. “Don’t think I could scare a bunny rabbit at the moment.” 
You follow his voice to your left, and find the Ghoul leaned up against a tree. He’s practically swaying in the breeze, very apparently unsteady. You rush over just as he slides down and collides with the dirt.. 
“Cooper! What happened to you?” 
Your hands flutter up and down his arms, brusquely checking for any injuries. Nothing obvious jumps out at you, but he heals fast and external wounds are rare. A wheeze claws its way up his throat and morphs into a hacking cough. You recognize the sound as the need for a Vial, and grab at his bag. 
“Do you have any on you?” 
A stuttered cough answers. “Fresh out… s’why I came here.”
Your stash of Vials had been growing just about as long as you’d known Cooper. When you traveled together, he’d hand some off to you for safekeeping, and there always ended up being extras. Upon your return home, he’d tell you to keep them. It wasn’t shocking, given that he found his way back every couple of days.
“Alright, come on.” You crouch down and position yourself beneath Cooper’s arm. 
You can tell he’s weak by the way he leans into you, knees wobbling relentlessly as you pull him up. Another round of coughing wracks his body and you squeeze him reassuringly. 
“Couch isn’t far.” You chose your words carefully, avoiding any inkling of pity. Having an already deteriorating Ghoul is enough, let alone a defensive one who hates being pitied. 
Cooper does his best to keep up with your steps, but his movements are sloppy and uncoordinated. You can feel the heat radiating off of him through his jacket and hear him wheezing beside your ear. Stepping onto the porch gives him some trouble, but you manage to haul him up and inside the door. Tiger whines nervously, circling the pair of you as you trek inside. The Ghoul collapses onto the couch as soon as it’s within reach. 
After making sure Cooper’s not going to slide off the couch, you continue to the med-kit in your makeshift kitchen. The Vials are hidden at the very bottom, wrapped in cloth for extra cushion to prevent shattering. You decide there’s more than enough for him to take two, and carefully extract the mysterious chem. 
Cooper’s laid out on his back when you return with the Vials. One arm is thrown over his eyes and the other dangling off the side of the couch with Tiger perched beneath. The dog nuzzles his favorite person’s hand for attention, and it elicits a chuckle from you. Even as the only conscious person in the room, you were still second in Tiger’s eyes. 
“Coop.” You shake his shoulder gently. “Hey. Hey. Where’s your inhaler?”
You nudge his hat away and he blinks slowly. “Mmm.”
“Ok then.” You mutter and pat down his jacket, searching for the contraption he always carries. The coat yields no results, and you pat down his pants until you feel it tucked away into the pocket at his hip. “Finally.”
Cooper shuffles ever so slightly when you slip your hand into his pocket. “H-hey now. I know you love me, baby, but I-I ain’t got it in me right now.”
An errant smile pushes its way onto your lips. You snap the meds into place on his inhaler 
“Open up.”
He fails to heed your instructions, and you ultimately end up forcing the inhalant into his mouth. It never works instantly, but within a minute or so of administering it there’s movement. One of Cooper’s hands lifts to cup yours, puffing on the inhaler again. 
You release your hold on it and rock back onto the balls of your feet. It’s then you take note of the holes in his clothing, and run a hand down his chest. There’s numerous holes, some as big as your finger and others no larger than a pinhead. 
“Cooper, what happened to you?” You sit on the edge of the couch beside him as he takes his first deep breath without Chems. 
“I just turn’d in a bounty and some Raiders jumped me.” He looks down at your hand on his chest. “Bastards shot me ten or eleven times. Damn buckshot got me good.”
You nod. “I can tell. You were in a bad way, Coop.”
The Ghoul sits up slowly beside you so his legs can swing off the couch. “I’ll be good as new, soon as this stuff starts workin’ good.” 
Tiger hops up on the couch next to him, tail wagging with excitement. The dog licks your cheek on his way to Cooper and pushes his nose into the Ghoul’s shoulder. You chuckle at the interaction, patting the dog’s shoulders. Coopers are still hunched with exhaustion, and his deep-set eyes look even more so. 
“Well until they do, you rest.” You stand, glancing out the still-ajar door. “It’s getting dark anyway.”
Cooper, as usual, opens his mouth to protest. If there’s anything he hates, it’s feeling useless. 
“No arguments.” You point a finger at him. “I mean it.”
He grumbles, but relents. “Fine. Only if you turn somethin’ on that ol’ TV of yours.”
The television turns out to be a perfect method of relaxation. You have to remove Cooper from the couch temporarily, but wrestle it into the pullout bed form and line it with blankets. The Ghoul had given in to his exhaustion rather easily at the prospect of a comfortable bed and kicked off his boots to climb all the way in. You hung his coat on a nail by the door, but made sure to leave his guns, lasso, and assorted weapons within arm’s reach. The TV played some old soap opera from before your time while you snagged a couple of hard candies- a luxury item, as the nearest settlement called them- and made to settle in. 
Cooper had managed to prop himself against the back of the couch, feet kicked out down the length of the thin mattress. Tiger, seeking attention as per usual, is curled up against his right leg. A wet nose rests just beneath Cooper’s knee and twitches in interest when you unwrap the first candy. 
The Ghoul might as well be a dog himself for the way his ears perk at the sound of a wrapper. 
He watches intently as you very gracefully clamber to sit next to him. You pop the fruit-flavored candy in your mouth and scoot around until you find comfort. In this case, it’s leaned up against the Ghoul beside you, head dropping onto his shoulder. His breathing is still shallower than you’d like, but a vast improvement from where it was when he’d shown up. 
“You ain’t gonna share?” 
You open your fist and offer up one of the candies. “I suppose I could. But only for you.”
A smirk twists the corners of his scarred lips. You poke at the candies and attempt to read the labels to no avail. 
“I’d offer you a choice of flavor, but…” You shrug, looking back up to your Ghoul. “Slim pickings.”
He lifts a bare hand to your chin, tilting up. “I think the pickin’s are just fine.”
You smile and lean in to meet him, lips falling into a familiar dance.The hand on your chin slides down to grip your nape and holds you firmly in place. It’s not long before the candy is gone from your mouth. Its remnants remain, mingling with the taste of gunpowder and smoke. A few moments pass before you decide to separate
“Miss me much?” You inquire, cuddling yourself down into his side. 
His arm raises to accommodate your body and lowers it back down to encircle your shoulders once you’re settled. “I always miss you darlin’. For a variety of reasons.”
You hum softly, “Yeah? Why’s that?”
Cooper’s hand trails up and down your arm, leaving wide trails of gooseflesh. “Well, the main one happens to be the lack of entertainment.”
You scoff. “I’m your entertainment?”
“Fuck yeah, you are. ‘Specially when you’re hollerin’ at scavengers and shootin’ anything that moves.” The Ghoul chuckles to himself. “Or trippin’ over a sleeping yao guai.”
You shove him playfully. “That was one time, and I shot it dead anyway.”
Cooper pulls you towards him, and you shift until you’re between his legs, back pressed against his chest. “That you did, sweetheart. I ain’t forgot.”
He grabs the nearest blanket and tosses it over your entangled bodies. You curl to the side and rest your cheek to his chest. Tiger shuffles his body with a huff, apparently frustrated with the lack of attention.
“What would you do without me?” You tap his chest gently, relishing in the warmth he produces. “Other than get eaten by a yao guai?”
The Ghoul scratches Tiger’s head. “Prolly go feral. Chase around some folk to scare em’.”
You know he’s joking, but the thought of losing him to ferality scares you to no end. Particularly since he’s just shown up on death’s door and almost hacked a lung onto your floor.
“Don’t say that.” You lift your head to catch his eye. “Please.”
Cooper may be a gruff old Ghoul with a dreadful outlook on the world, but he softens ever so slightly at your words.
“You know I don’t mean it, sugar. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”
Two scarred fingers hook beneath your jaw and pull you back up to his lips. It’s tame at first, but the Cooper you know wastes no time making an appearance. His teeth nip at your lip gently and one rough hand slides up your side until it cups your breast. You press into him eagerly, climbing upwards until your thighs slot around either side of his hips. He responds by grinding them into you, delicious friction warming you from head to toe.  
Tiger decides he’s disgusted at this point, and hops off the couch with a comical groan.
Unbothered, one of your hands latches onto the lasso that is tossed on top of his pile of weapons. You loop it around his neck, gripping either side of the rope and pulling him in. Cooper smirks against your mouth. 
“Oh I love being stuck with you, Cowpoke.” You whisper against his mouth, earning yourself a quick bite to the bottom lip.
The Ghoul grins and quickly shows how much strength he’s regained by reversing your positions. He snatches the rope faster than you can react, and wraps the fingers of one hand loosely around the column of your throat. There’s just enough pressure to shoot a pang of arousal between your legs. Cooper knows you’re squirming, and presses a knee there to relieve some of the ache. 
“Glad t’hear it.” He murmurs into your neck, “‘Cause I sure as hell ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
And you wouldn’t have it any other way.
-------------------
thanks for reading, much love ❤
Read More: Fallout Masterlist
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thelikesoffinn · 8 months
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„Astarion ending as the Vampire Ascendant is the correct ending for him, because it is what he wants.”
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That is a claim I’ve been seeing pop up more and more often these days. And I think it’s both a very bold and a very odd claim to make.
But first things first: Hello, I’m a licensed social worker! So far, I’ve worked with children, refugees and youths with behavioural issues stemming from bullying and or abuse.
Please be aware that I will be mentioning different kinds of abuse, coping mechanisms, and victim/abuser relationships. If any of this is difficult for you, don’t force yourself through it. My jabbering about a traumatised vampire is not worth your wellbeing, not ever.
I will, however try to stick to Astarion and not use other examples. If, in any case, I do use a non-Astarion example, I’ll add a warning beforehand so that you can skip the part. And I’ll make it clear what will be discussed in the next bit, so that you have a chance to skip it entirely.
This is an effort to make this as accessible as possible for everyone that wants to indulge on a mad woman’s rambling – and I know there’s a few people that like this sort of stuff!
And, uh, there's obviously spoilers for all three acts. Serious spoilers, even.
Before I can get into the whole ‘why Astarion didn’t really want to ascend,’ we need to understand him a little more. And to understand this pretty boy’s brain, we first need to understand the gist of what we’re talking about when we throw around the word ‘abuse.’
“Abuse” is when someone is treated with cruelty, violence, or neglect – often to bad effect – on a regular basis. Repetitively. Check’s out for Astarion, I’d say, but we all knew that already. I mean, if one thing was obvious, it was this.
1. Astarions Abuse
Next we need to look at what kind of abuse Astarion faced over his long years of torment, seeing as different types of abuse will have different effects on the victim.
Not that that is anything we have to worry about with him – Astarion won the abuse lottery, to put it bluntly. In a horrible game of fate, he got everything. He himself indirectly mentions all the types of abuse he faced, albeit never using the correct terms.
The first we properly notice – fitting, seeing as it is often the most obvious form of abuse – is the physical abuse. Astarions scars are probably the biggest tell Larian could shove down our throats, only underlined by Astarion’s tale about the night itself. About how Cazador ‘misspelled something’ every time he flinched or screamed and had to do ‘many corrections. On top of this, Cazador locked Astarion up for months on end and tortured him – or had him tortured – on a regular basis both as a rite and as a punishment.
Next up, we have the fact that Astarion was forced to basically prostitute himself repeatedly. This is what we call sexual exploitation.
“I spent two hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back for my Master.” – Act 2
Two hundred years is a long time, filled with great many people. Now, we don’t know how many of those people actually tapped into the sexual exploitation and how many he could just lure back with other means, but the fact that it happened a lot is undeniable.
Next we have a form of abuse that we often disregard in adults: Neglect. It sounds odd, I know, saying that a fully grown adult was neglected. They can care for themselves, can they not?
Well. Yes and no.
Adult neglect is proceeded by the condition that one adult has to lean on another adult to fulfil their needs for whatever reason. This could be anything, from disability to income-based issues.  
Seeing as Astarion had absolutely nothing, while Cazador had everything, we can assume this was the case. Cazador had the house, the money, the power. Astarion owns but one pair of clothes, assumedly, that he has fixes over and over again. Fair to say, that’s pretty neglectful. (And it’s one more reason to shower the guy in pretty armour and camp clothes. Go ham, people.)
Last we have the form of abuse we actually get to witness later in the game – emotional abuse.
Once again, it’s undeniable that this happened. Especially since we’re all seeing it in the flesh upon meeting Cazador in his crypt.
“Have you no respect for yourself?”
“I strove for perfection in all things. Even those as imperfect as you.”
“A pity you amounted to so little, despite my efforts.”
“A pathetic little boy who never amounted to anything.”
All Act 3, Crypt
Here we have just a few examples of things Cazador throws in his face. It’s like reading a textbook on emotional abuse, this one (and it’s definitely a reason to throw hands).
Blaming the victim, keeping their sense of self and their self-worth as tiny as possible to make them cower and flee. A true classic.
This pretty much shows that Astarion suffered all forms of abuse we commonly see and it is implied – once again by Astarion himself – that at least a few of those instances were ritualistic.
Now, what does that mean exactly? Well, I fear I need to use a real example here, so please skip the next paragraph.
Ritualistic doesn’t refer to a proper ritual – it can, but that’s mostly a thing for those in a cult. So, we’re not necessarily talking about a ‘Vampire Ascendent Ritual’. A husband, beating his wife every evening after his third bottle of beer is also called ritual abuse. It happens regularly. It is part of a routine. Both parties know what will happen.
I can’t find the exact quote, so I’m working of my memory here, but at one point he said that when Cazador invited him to eat and he said yes, he would be served a putrid rat. If he said no, he’d be beaten.
The way it was phrased made it clear that it happened more than once and that Astarion clearly knew what would happen. So, this can be classified as ritualistic abuse.
2. A Note on Conditioning and Compliance
By default, abuse victims are conditioned to behave a certain way or in a certain fashion. This is a natural response to avoid further abuse.
In Astarion, the thing we see most often is his inherent need to please. Not literally, he doesn’t mind being an arsehole. But he initially feels the need to follow Tav’s orders, even if they go against his own wishes.
This can be clearly seen in the conversation with Araj Oblodra. Astarion very clearly doesn’t want to bite her. He doesn’t. But he will do so, if Tav tells him to. This behaviour is not conscious – he doesn’t know why he does it, he just does – and it is to be expected. This is how he kept himself save for two centuries, so of course he will fall back into his usual pattern when the pressure is high.
This goes hand in hand with the fact that most abuse victims don’t fight. Maybe initially, but not after long term abuse. Especially not after two fucking centuries.
This is true in Astarion – offered by his ‘siblings’ during act 3 and unhappily acquiesced by the man himself. Astarion stopped fighting and, once again implied, cowered, and did as he was told in order to survive.
3. The Astarion we know and love
Obviously, all that abuse does have an impact on our vampire boyfriend. He shows various common signs of abuse and just like with the forms of abuse, Astarion raked every coping mechanism he could find. (Not really, but it feels like it.) It’s also important to note that nearly all of the following things happen inwardly. Astarion is not one of the victims, that tries to rationalise and minimise the actions of his abuser. Quite the opposite, actually.
I’ll note from the beginning, that rationalisation will not be covered in this bit, as most examples will be important later on. But he definitely does it.
One of his biggest skills is to hide every ounce of fear or hurt behind sarcasm and snarky theatrics. He doesn’t seem to hide his anger much, though, so that’s something! Our boy is cool with anger, not so much with being afraid.
“Ahahaha, now that you mention it….I might have done…that.” – Act 3, regarding the Gur children
“The thing that will decide my fate forever more? Yeees, it’s been on my miiiind. Why?” – Act 2, regarding the Ritual
And there’s many more instances that prove this. Honestly, half his dialogue is sarcasm, so it would really be too long to get into and we all know what I mean, right? We have alltalked to the guy before. It’s obvious that he’s sarcastic to a fault.
This goes hand in hand with his penchant for defensiveness. I would personally state that he’s simply not really good with guilt. When talking about fear, he usually just opts for sarcasm or avoids the topic completely, but guilt especially has his defences going up. This is also when he’s most likely to shove all the blame off to Cazador.
“Don’t look at me like that. Cazadors orders.” – Act 3, Crypt
“I just did what I had to!” – Act 3, Crypt
And don’t get me wrong, he does that anyway. And with good reason. Astarion didn’t have a choice for the most part, but he’s still easy to shove things off.
This kind of connects to his penchant for denial.
Astarion doesn’t really like to talk about most things. He firmly believes he is an ‘action’ sort of person that just does instead of plans, which invertedly just means he’s great at pushing the thinking stuff away. He also likes to get rid of stuff, so that he doesn’t need to face it ever again.
“I never want to see these little scraps of misery again. The world doesn’t need to know my shame.” – Act 3, about the children
And yes, this partly rings true. He’s probably ashamed and doesn’t want anyone to know what he’s done. But it’s also very clear that he himself simply doesn’t want to face his own actions, something that is just  underlined by his extreme willingness to red rid of the other spawn.
As mentioned by Astarion himself, he’s big on manipulation. I mean, I don’t think there is much explaining necessary. The guy is willing to do a whole lot in order to get what he desires – which mostly revolves around safety and survival, to be honest – and he’s not really shy about it either. And that’s despite the fact that he doesn’t really like intimacy – especially in form of sex.
It’s not a secret that Astarion is not big on sex and anything surrounding it. This goes far enough for people to consider him either ace or ace coded.
A claim that, personally, I’m not super in line with.
Now, it’s not entirely wrong and if this is your head cannon I’m surely not going to stand in your way – but on a larger spectrum, I think he’s more traumatised than ace. And while those go hand in hand sometimes, it’s a bit difficult for the ace community if you attach traumatised characters to them because it can fuel a whole lot of stigma that is honestly neither needed nor wanted. But I digress!
If it comes to his own behaviour, he’s great at minimising his mistakes. Honestly, he’s a master of minimisation. A very obvious and famous example would be:
“’Killed’ feels like a…strong word. Not many corpses have your vigour.” – Act 1, after killing Tav
Astarion. You literally sucked poor Tav dry and left them flopping around, cold, and dead. Killed is exactly the right word and we all know it.
“Quite the deviation from my usual routine. Capture, not lure. I didn’t bring them in with sweet rolls or anything.” – Act 3, Gur Children
This is another attempt at minimising what he did, if a bit less obvious because at this point there isn’t much he can say. But at least he didn’t sexualise the gur children, right? They’re still spawn but whoo, at least that didn’t happen.  
The next point would be dissociation, which is extremely common in abuse victims – of all forms of abuse.
Astarion himself mentioned certain moments that could be classified as dissociation over course of the story, which is probably the coping mechanism I personally expected the most.
The pale elf has a penchant for violence, but he’s not entirely shameless or abhorrently vile, which gets clearer the more the story progresses. So, two hundred years of forced prostitution, torture and doing whatever other horrible things? Yeah, I’d be more surprised if he didn’t dissociate.
Examples of that would be:
“A moment of disgust to push myself through and then I could’ve carried on, just like before.” – Act 2, after Araj
“I felt nothing the moment I handed them over.” – Act 3, Gur Children
“Did you enjoy it? It felt like you weren’t fully there.” – Act 1, Tav after Sex
The latter is generally more of an assumption than actual prove, but with context it does make sense.
The last common sign of abuse we find in our boyfriend would be his low self-worth. It’s a consistent trait that stays over the course of all three acts, noticeable in many different conversations.
We can see it in his reaction to wanting to break up before finishing his story. We can see it in his genuine surprise when Tav picks him over any of the other characters. We see it in his insecurity whenever Tav asks to sleep with another character. He’s fine with it, but he still worries their decision to sleep with someone else is based on something he did.
It eases up ever so slightly after Cazador is dead, but even then he’s still struggling which is once again perfectly illustrated if you try to break up with him.
“Oh shit. I- Did I do something wrong?”
That is the first thing he asks and I think it speaks for itself. He genuinely doesn’t believe he has much to offer and for Astarion, it’s likely that Astarion will always be the problem.
4. "Oh, I tried them all none of them answered.”
Another big thing that’s important to note, is that Astarion was never saved. No one came to save him from Cazador. There was no darling boy on a white steed riding into that castle to rescue him and princess carry him away. Not even the gods answered his desperate calls.
So, he never received any kindness or luck. To him, the world seems as cruel and horrid as before because he didn’t have the chance to experience goodness in two centuries.
But worse than that, he didn’t even get to save himself. Astarion didn’t stand up to Cazador, he didn’t run out of his own might.
He was beaten to near death and ‘saved’ by Cazador, who would become his abuser.
He tried to save someone and, in turn, was locked up and starved for an entire year.
He was abducted by mind flayers, i.e., saved from Cazador, only to end up tadpoled and on the cusp of getting a fancy, squiddy beard.
Anything that’s good, any kindness, any selfless action…it all came with a ginormous price tag.
5. Over the Course of the Story
Astarions behaviour changes a whole lot over the course of three acts – which is important once we talk about his quests climax – so let’s review what we’re working with!
Act 1 Astarion is guarded as fuck. The man has walls around him that are so high, even the gods can touch them.
A lot of his behaviour in act 1 revolves around staying save and staying liked. He lies, manipulates, and flutters his lashes in order to get what he wants and needs. Instead of asking, like Wyll, Karlach and Gale do, Astarion uses all he has to offer to get by. He is still very much in survival mode and tries to weasel his way through an unfamiliar situation with familiar methods.
On top of that, and most notably, he’s absolutely not fond of kindness or selflessness.
#I saved a child and now my boyfriend is mad
Here, we are most likely to gain disapproval for doing the decent thing – unless you sent him outside for a minute whenever you’re being a good person.
And I’d assume that this is because of two things.
First: The very traditional ‘Why not me?’
As I mentioned before, Astarion wasn’t saved. He hasn’t experienced kindness in a very long time so seeing that the world is literally filled with kind people is hurtful. Why didn’t anyone save him? Why was he left to his own devices for so long? Why should he care about others when it’s so clear that no one ever cared about him? No, dead to all of them. If he didn’t get it, neither will they.
“And what am I owed? What about the injustices I suffered? Am I not entitled to anything?” – Act 3, Crypt
“I was in the prime of my life when I was turned. Everything was taken from me too.” – Act 3, Crypt
And secondly is the fact that, as I mentioned, goodness always has a price. And it’s one most people won’t be willing to pay. That’s how his life has been, so why would theirs be different?
This is precisely why Astarion may disapprove of kind actions, but he mostly neither approves nor disapproves if Tav asks for payment. That’s just how the world works.
Once you venture out into act 2, after getting to know him a whole lot more, he starts to mellow a bit – if only towards Tav.
“He’s afraid, so afraid, of everyone but you, who she should fear the most.” – Sceleritas about Astarion
His approval is a lot easier to gain – or at least keep! – and he tends to approve of some more proper actions. He doesn’t throw a fit if you promise to find Mol, he approves of Tav being kind to His Majesty, of saving Aylin and he even approves of Durge apologising to Isobel after threatening to rip her to pieces.
He's slowly starting to open up, allowing Tav to see some parts of him he previously kept hidden. He accepts their offer to help, if hesitantly and, by god, the man starts experimenting with boundaries.
The social worker in me is shedding tears at this. It’s my favourite thing to see in my clients and it’s no different here. Yay to saying no!
Of course, it’s still a bit hit or miss. If Tav urges him to bite Araj, for example, he will only to later notice that he didn’t fucking have to. He recognises this on his own and he calls Tav out on it. Just like he calls them out on not helping him with his Orthon quest.
Good job, chap. Good fucking job.
And the growth-train won’t stop going even as we reach act 3.
In act 3, there’s not many things he disapproves as of right now – those he does, mostly have to do with how Tav treats him and not with anyone else. In fact, he’s more likely to approve good behaviour now, like giving Yenna food or money.
And yes, we need to consider that this could simply be because he gets used to Tav’s behaviour and just learns to roll with it. But it’s also highly likely that he notices that there’s truly good people around. At least one person. And that person is not only good, no, they’re in the process of helping him break free once and for all.
They’re helping him save himself.
By act 3, he has learned that he can absolutely say his piece where Tav is concerned and he’s more likely to disagree with them on certain things. It’s seen during a lot of small dialogue that he’s no longer terribly afraid to be honest with them, willing to listen and talk and he’ll ask for help if he needs it.
“I can do this. But I need your help.” – Act 3, Crypt
Something that can be viewed both positively and negatively is that he’s definitely loyal to a fault. He will stick by Tav’s side, no matter what.
“I really hoped we could avoid being pawns for a dark god, but here we are, I suppose. I’m with you, my dear, wherever this might lead.” – Act 3, After Jaheira confronts durge
As I said, this can be both positive and negative. On one count, it’s a recipe for disaster, seeing as he could be waltzing into a really bad situation for Tav alone.
But on the other side…this is a man who only cared about himself because that is the only person he could afford to care about. He needed to survive. He now has enough room to breathe and the capacity to care for someone else and I’d be inclined to count that as a good thing.
6. The Crypt
All the progress he made in act 2 and 3 is nearly tossed into the wind as soon as the crew enters Cazadors castle.
It’s not an immediate thing, of course.
At first, Astarion tries to stay light and simple and he hides behind flippant tones and relaxed faces. The way he recounts this is almost comically disinterested and the façade is actually quite good.
It’s start’s cracking after we meet Godie, one of the people who tortured him on more than one account, but he mostly manages to remain as upbeat as one can honestly expect for the first half of the journey.
All that, however, is done for the very moment we meet Sebastian. His mask not only slips, no, it full on shatters and there’s none of his apparent lightness left.
Which, of course it does.
The man is suddenly faced with years and years and years of victims. Innocent, unlucky people he lured back to his master over two centuries. People he liked, people he pitied.
“It’s sickening, seeing them again.”
It’s basically a room filled with guilt, exclusively for Astarion. And, as we mentioned before…Astarion is not great with guilt.
The guilt, however, is not where it ends.
No, he’s also faced with reflections of his own past. The spawn pose as reminders of what he did, sure, but also as reminders of what he was.
Weak, desperate, hungry.
There’s an abundance of images of his worst moments, reflected back at him in the thousands. It’s probably like staring into a funhouse mirror, but instead of seeing yourself in a funky way he just sees everything he so desperately doesn’t want to be.
“It should be [who I am]! I don’t want to be like them. They’re pathetic, horrible…”
He’s forcefully made aware of how darn weak he can be, which claws at all the wounds he’s barely had time to close. Something, he of course won’t admit if asked.
“THEY DO NOT [remind me of myself]. That weakness in me is dead, IT’S DEAD. I have a higher purpose.”
The high pressure of the moment brings out all of his act 1 traits in but a few moments. You can pretty much watch how he starts to shut down mid conversation, one of his old walls snapping back into place to remove himself from the situation.
Thing is though, walls usually become a bit brittle after disuse. Especially when talking to a person you don’t usually want to wall out.
Or, in his case, when talking to Tav.
After meeting Sebastian, Astarion shows extreme reactions to Tav nudging any of his weak spots. His reaction varies on whatever choice you make, but it ranges from aggression to defensiveness, to denial and even to downright begging Tav.
“Don’t hate me. I just did what I had to. I swear I did what I had to.”
This probably the most shocking out of all of them, since that is not something we got to witness before. The begging is likely a mixture of intense fear of losing Tav, his low self-esteem and pre-Tav behaviour, since we can assume that Cazador made him beg more than once.
Another old coat he puts back on would also be the least surprising of them all.
Manipulation.
He falls right back into it, using Tav’s affection to get what he want if we trigger the right action.
“If they die and I ascend, I won't have to rely on the parasite to walk in the sun. I'll be free. Truly completely free. Isn't that what you want?”
This, to me, was probably the biggest tell that Astarion was back in survival mode. He’s panicking, for fucks sake, and who can blame the guy? He’s back. He’s about to face down his abuser.
Of course he’s fucking panicking.
Panic leads to an increased craving for safety and, in his case, power. This is why he clings to Tav, why he begs them to love him still. And this is why he jumps head first into the rationalisation pool.
“I will need to sacrifice them all if I want to perform the ritual. - [You can save them.] – What’s the point? They're as good as dead! I thought they were dead. If they are unleashed, they will cause incredible carnage. […] They must die. Better they serve a purpose.”
Another textbook example.
They must die anyway. They’re basically dead. No need to save them now. They’re dangerous, I’m doing the right thing by sacrificing them. I already thought they were dead, so it’s not changing anything for me. They’re a lost cause and I deserve  all this power. I deserve it, because I suffered and nothing will change if they die.
So, seeing as we already spoke about his usual behaviour in act 3 – behaviour he showed after we allowed him to breathe and be himself for a while – I think we can fairly easily conclude he’s not thinking straight.
Astarion is right back in survival mode, where all that matters is he himself. If it weren’t for the seven thousand spawns, he might have moved through this more gracefully, but seeing those tipped the scales and Astarion is absolutely losing it.
Remember that for the last section, per favore.
7. The Ascension
“Astarion wants to ascend and Tav manipulates him into doing what they want.”
That is basically the essence of what people often claim and I can’t help but shake my head at such a blatant disregard of everything he has become. This is completely ignoring the change and growth he has gone through over the course of their journey.
Astarion wants to be free. He wants to be safe. That does not mean he wants to ascend.
And the claim that Tav manipulates him into doing anything is even more baffling. We are all aware that Tav is not manipulative by nature, yes? That is entirely on you. You decide who your Tav is.
And then let’s remember: Astarion is panicked. He’s afraid and he’s not thinking straight. His abuser is on his knees before him and he still feels so weak. And there’s seven thousand spawns that need handling.
Astarion is very much not okay right now.
In fact, reading his thoughts just proves this theory.
“You can see the fear in his eyes but also the hunger. The thick smell of blood in the air and the promise of power being so close is intoxicating to him. All he can see is the power of the ritual and the freedom that power brings. The freedom to do anything. To be anything.”
Tav, however, has none of those problems. They can actually see beyond the current situation and they are fully aware what the consequences are. Astarion is not. As we previously established, Astarion is a doer. Not a thinker. He didn’t think this through, not at all.
The only thing Tav is doing – the persuasion roll – is reminding him of the very real consequences he is facing. The consequences he hasn’t thought about before.
"I know you think this will set you free, but it won't. This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador."
And that is the kindest thing Tav could do in this situation. They’re not bodily dragging him away from Cazador. They’re not even telling him to not do it. They’re just offering him the truth. He can do with that information whatever he desires.
“Astarion cries when he doesn’t ascend, that just shows that it was the wrong choice.”
A hare-brained point that I thankfully have only seen once so far.
That crying? That is healthy crying.
That is him, crumbling under the stress that suddenly dissipates. That is him mourning two hundred years of torment. That’s him letting out feelings he hasn’t been able to for centuries.
And, for the love of god, try to put yourself in his shoes.
Two hundred years of torment, ended in but a moment.
Astarion was abused and tortured for so long, afraid for so long only to see his tormentor die just like that.
Cazador died within a moment and all Astarion needed was a darn blade. Of course he fucking cries.
Seeing how pathetic a being the very core of your life’s misery actually is hurts. It hurts like hell because not only are you finally free – free! – no, you’re faced with the fact that this pile of nothing, the thing that’s bleeding out right in front of you…this was what tortured for so long.
This thing hurt you so much. That guy took everything from you, everything you once were, and broke it again and again and again over years.
You were so scared of this thing.
And yet he has the gall and the gumption to die just like that.
It was so easy.
And yet you suffered for so long.
8. Evil Playthrough?
An evil playthrough is really a different setting altogether.
All of this, as you can probably tell, is really only applicable on a good playthrough. Realistically speaking. I’m not sure how the game mechanics handle it.
On an evil path, Astarion never really gets to experience kindness and goodness. Evil Tav will just prove him right in his believe that the world is a vile and cold place, meaning that he realistically would be more inclined to actually want to ascend.
9. Final Conclusion
I think all of this should be enough to make it clear that no, ascended Astarion is not the best ending for the guy. In fact, it is probably the worst. Because it’s just him, running away. He’s running into a lonely and cold state of being, where cruelty and power lord over everything else and he’s running because he’s terrified of being hurt again. He’s running despite desperately wanting to stop running.
“I'll spend the rest of my life running watching the shadows, never feeling safe…no, this has to happen. Here and now.”
And, the worst part is: Nothing about Astarion is left after he ascends. Even his tone of speaking gradually changes, his theatrics fading. He’s slowly losing himself, until there’s nothing but an evil caricature left.
So, in the end, ascension will have proven him right.
That version of him is dead.
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feirceangel · 3 months
Text
Imagine | Mine (Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen)
Imagine Feyd discovering that someone has dared to harm what’s his.
Word Count: 1,574
Warnings: possessive!Feyd, objectification, blood, murder, (Feyd is his own psychotic warning in himself to be honest.)
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Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen is not known for his mercy.
Ask anyone in the universe who has heard even a whisper of House Harkonnen, and they will warn to tread carefully when dealing with them. If you value your life, you wouldn't even get near them.
And everyone knows Feyd-Rautha is one of the best examples of Harkonnen rage and violence, second only to his uncle, the Baron.
Renowned for his physical prowess as a fighter, his insatiable lust for blood and death, and his determination to rise in power and favour, he is a force to be reckoned with.
So why would anyone dare go against him?
He finds himself asking this as he looks upon your form, head bowed and turned slightly away from him. Hiding something.
Gracefully and predatory as a panther, he approaches you slowly.
"My darling.." his voice rasps.
Normally you greet him immediately, recognizing his footfalls from down the hall. You would smile at your na-Baron and ask him how his day went if you did not spend it with him.
You are oddly subdued tonight.
His eyes, always searching, follow a drop which falls from your cheek, landing on the cold concrete floor. Instantly, he is before you, grasping your chin in his strong hand. He tilts your head up, none too gently, and examines your tear-stained face.
"What happened?" His already raspy voice is deeper, darker.
Feyd is no stranger to your tears. In fact, he often revels in their presence, trying all sorts of things to make you cry. But he hasn't done anything to illicit that response today.
When you don't offer an answer right away, his grip tightens, squishing your cheeks together.
"Speak."
His voice holds no room for disobedience. You nod your head and he releases you, stepping back slightly.
You shake slightly as you begin, "I am sorry, na-Baron."
Feyd's anger is growing. You only call him that in public or when you are disturbed.
"Do not apologize. Explain," he can't stop himself from hissing.
"I took a walk today," you begin slowly. "Just to the training grounds to see if you were there. But I didn't see you so I walked back. He stopped me and-"
"'He'?" Feyd echoes.
"Richter," you supply the name of one of the Baron's top generals. "He grabbed me and said I was a no-good whore who should've been disposed of long ago."
Anger swirls with Feyd's chest at this news. Of course, many people have said harsh and often cruel things to you. But you always kept your head high and ignored the jabs. You’re always so strong.
This is different, he can tell.
"What else? You are not one to cry over a mere insult," he brings his hand up to swipe a tear from your soft cheek. You lean into his touch, relishing in its familiarity.
You inhale deeply, "He struck me without warning, na-Baron."
In his oft colourless word, all Feyd now sees is red.
"Where?" His voice is so low it's almost impossible to hear.
You shake as you lower the collar of your dress to reveal a swollen area on your shoulder, "Here."
His dark eyes flicker to yours, bidding you to continue.
You move your hand to your face and gently touch your tearstained cheek, "And here."
Feyd's hand clenches into a fist. He bends closer to examine your face, noting the slight swelling and the way you bow your head. He places his hand on the back of your head, angling your face upwards. A featherlight kiss is applied to your skin so softly you can barely feel it.
Your master and lover rises to his full height, "Rest my darling, I shall return shortly."
He turns to leave but you reach out and grab his arm. Feyd stops and turns to stare at you.
"Please, na-Baron. Don't hurt him."
He scowls at your request, "He has hurt you. Death is his reward."
"He has done nothing that you have not," you say. "I have known worse pain from your own hands.”
Feyd shakes his head and grips your arms, dragging you forward to stand with your bodies touching.
"Only I can touch what's mine. Only I can hurt you how I see fit. You take the pain only I give you." He dips his head close to your ear, breath sending shivers down your spine. “Do you understand?”
"Of course, my lord na-Baron," your voice is breathy.
You are intoxicated by his closeness, the dangerous poise with which he caries himself, the possessiveness of his words and the truth of them.
"Say it."
"I'm yours alone, Feyd."
He crashes his lips onto yours, teeth clashing and lips bruising from the force of it. His hand squeezes your neck as he kisses you. When he finally parts, leaving you breathless, he takes a moment to admire you. His thumb brushes against your lips before he turns once more.
"That swine sealed his fate when he laid hands on what's mine," Feyd growls as he stalks out of the room.
He returns mere minutes later, dragging an incredibly nervous Richter behind him. With a violent shove, he pushes the frightened man to stand before you.
"I heard you disrespected my darling," Feyd points to the floor. "Kneel."
Richter obeys without hesitation. He knows how quick Feyd is to anger… and how few survive it.
"Kiss her shoe."
The man's eyes flicker to yours.
"Now," Feyd places his foot on Richter's back, forcing him down.
Shakily, he presses his lips to your shoe with a mumbled apology. It does nothing to sate Feyd-Rautha's wrath.
With practised ease, Feyd lands a harsh kick to the man's ribs. He repeats the action until the man is a sobbing mess splayed before your feet like an offering.
You regard him coldly, remembering the bite of his hand across your face.
“Please! Please forgive me, my lord!” Richter manages to sob coherent words. Spit and blood dribbles from his mouth pathetically.
“You have insulted me,” Feyd states. “Hurt what’s mine, belittled what’s mine.”
The man’s hand reaches towards your foot, as if you could spare him from the savage that is Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.
Feyd crushes his hand beneath his shoe, grinding down eliciting a whimper of pain, as he steps before you and above his prey.
He is regal in his violence, eyes shining with possessive obsession.
“Dear one,” he places his hand on your arm before handing you one of his blades. “Help me.”
He smirks as you grip the knife tightly. Your eyes meet his.
Feyd knows you’d do anything he asked of you, just as he knows he’d burn the universe to ashes if you asked him too.
“Of course, my lord,” you say, kneeling by the hurt man. “If it pleases you.”
Feyd’s grin reveals blackened teeth, “You please me, dearest. Now, make him suffer for insulting me and mine.”
The first cut is shallow, uncertain as it travels down the man’s bare arm. Feyd tsks his disapproval.
You adjust your grip and slash again, quickly this time, hitting deep and pointedly. The man screams out and thrashes, but Feyd is upon him in a second. He holds Richter still as you unleash your rage upon him.
Feyd watches you draw blood with a pleasure he’s never experienced before. Relishing in your bared teeth and angry snarls, he commits this to his memory.
He halts your hand as the man ceases his thrashing. With a predatory smile, Feyd guides your hand with his, penetrating the blade deep into the man’s throat.
You watch the man loose his life, as you pant with exertion.
“You have done well, my pet,” Feyd praises, removing the knife from your hand and tossing it aside. He places his hand atop your head.
“Thank you, Feyd.”
He moves his hand down your back and presses his face into your blood stained neck, inhaling deeply. Your hands come around to grasp his shoulders, bringing him close to you. He wraps his strong arms around you, holding you like a lover would.
When he sits up, you lunge forward, capturing his lips with yours. Ignoring the blood and the dead body on the floor, you guide Feyd towards the bed, hands leaving bloody marks on his pale skin.
“Please let me repay you,” you beg, tugging at his shirt. “Allow me to repent.”
“You don’t need to repent, love. But you can keep begging.”
He allows you to disrobe him and press him down onto the soft bedding.
In all honesty, Feyd craves this battle of dominance between you. He could overpower you in an instant, yet the hold you have over him has him bending to your will.
You need only beg and he would take a knee and worship at your feet.
And you know it.
You know he craves this, needs it like an addict. He adores the pain you can lavish upon him, adores the meek demeanour you show to everyone else, adores the side of you that matches his own carnal desires tenfold, adores the way you gladly bleed for him.
He adores you.
And you worship each other in a wicked ritual of blood, sweat, and tears each night.
And he’d never let anyone take this away from him- take you away from him.
He’d kill anyone who dared try.
~~~
[A/n- thanks for reading! Please let me know if you liked it :)]
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ozzgin · 3 months
Note
Hello!
🌟 here again! I'm here with another request for our lovely bodyguard yandere.
Have you ever seen videos of fans jumping up onto stages with kpop idols? Then get carried away by security behind stage?
I'd love to see how our lovely violent baby girl would react to not being able to react with immediate violence as a reaction given all the eyes and cameras on him. Would he be stone faced just carrying the stage crasher by the collar like a cat? Or would he be dragging him by the legs into hell?
The reactions of fans to the bodyguard would be interesting too, I could see Reader being jealous over people thirsting over bodyguard on Twitter or something lol. Or bodyguard confused on why people would say stuff like "he could snap my back like a twig and I'd say thank you" about him.
Hope you are taking care, and I have my fingers crossed to hear from you eventually
Sincerely
-🌟
Long overdue and I'm terribly sorry about that! I had the ideas for a while now, but I could never find the proper words to assemble everything. ;-;
Yandere! Bodyguard x Idol! Reader (III)
Your bodyguard has gained sudden Internet fame after dealing with a crazed fan on stage. Naturally, he couldn't care less about anyone else, but that doesn't stop you from trying to make him jealous in return. Someone will have to be the sacrificial lamb to his murderous possessiveness.
Content: female reader, obsessive behavior, violence, death, reader and yandere are both psycho
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]
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The screen of your phone lights up again and you only need a quick glance to know what it is. Another post about last night’s event. About your bodyguard. You sink your nails into the leather chair and look ahead towards the mirror, exchanging a smile with the hairstylist.
“Oh, it looks lovely! You always do such a great job.” You compliment the woman as you tilt your head both ways, admiring the gentle curls. Now get the fuck out already.
“I’m so glad! Is there anything else you’d like me to-”
“No, that’s all. You can go”, you respond curtly.
The stylist collects her products and waves at you, exiting the room. The phone vibrates once more with a new notification, and you promptly throw it against the door. It scatters in large chunks of scrap across the plush carpet.
The whole ordeal happened within seconds. You were performing the final song of the evening when a fan hurled himself over the security barrier and onto the stage. The people standing at the very front began screaming and some took their phones out, scrambling for a good angle to record everything.
“Please, (Y/N), I’m your biggest fan!” the man pleaded, approaching you with shaking hands.
You froze in place, observing his actions with the same indifference of watching a TV ad that goes on for too long. Before the stranger could even reach your proximity, your bodyguard effortlessly and speedily threw him over the shoulder, giving you a reassuring nod and retreating backstage. He had that smile on his face that signaled he was pissed, and your mouth hung open in realization: You wouldn’t be able to witness the massacre.
You knew that expression all too well. That man would never see the light of day again, and under normal circumstances you would be right behind your bodyguard, cheering him on and suggesting ways to further torment of whoever dared to get too close to you.
And yet, your little ritual had been interrupted. You stood there on the stage, baffled, as the other idols gathered around you with worried looks. You poor thing. That must’ve been terrifying. The audience was shouting words of support, encouraging you to continue as if nothing happened. With pursed lips, you tightened your grip around the microphone and reassured everyone of your well-being. The show had to go on, regardless of your bloodlust.
This morning, you woke up to hundreds of posts online about the incident. Or rather, the way your bodyguard dealt with it. You scrolled through photos, videos, and confessions regarding the mysterious stranger who protected you from harm.
“I need a man like that in my life!”, “I know, right? So cool!”, “Imagine how easily he’d pick you up”, “The broad shoulders! I’m in love <3”
You don’t even have time to be properly upset about it. Your schedule for the day is packed with interviews and photoshoots. You glance in the mirror one final time and exit the room. The bodyguard has been waiting for you, resting against the wall with crossed arms.
“I need a new phone”, you tell him in a casual tone.
“What happened to the previous one?” He inquires, somewhat confused by your sudden request.
“Just do it!” You snap at the large man, rushing past him without providing any window for a reaction.
Ideally, you would very much like to tell him that the sudden influx of attention irritates you beyond comprehension. Then he’d reassure you that his indifference towards everyone else has not changed whatsoever, and thus your worries are entirely unfounded; but, if you need an outlet to release all that stress, he can easily find an empty changing room and service you like he always does.
Unfortunately, there is no time for that.
The bodyguard follows your movements with raised eyebrows, perplexed. What could’ve gotten you into such a sour mood? Has someone caused you to be upset? Are you still pouting after the missed playtime? He ponders the possibilities as he searches for an assistant.
The employee is visibly startled upon hearing his deep voice calling her. She turns obediently and nods, flashing her best customer-facing smile.
“Can you get (Y/N) a new phone?” he asks plainly.
“Huh? Sure…Did she specify any preferences? What was her previous model?”
He stares in confusion.
“…Can’t you guess?” she insists.
“I’m not good with these things.” The bodyguard rummages through his pocket and pulls out an old, cracked device to prove his point. “I don’t use phones much.”
Why would he? The only time he needs a phone is when he’s apart from you, which hasn’t happened since the Christmas incident. He previously considered a more modern option, so he could stalk your social media and make sure you don’t have any perverts sliding into your messages. That proved to be unnecessary, as you frequently leave your phone unattended or involve him in the process: most of your photos posted online nowadays are actually curated by his truly.
“Oh, so you don’t know about the recent craze?” The woman chuckles and takes out her own phone, speedily tapping on the screen before presenting it to the man. “See? You’re trending!”
He scans the multitude of messages. Ah, so that’s what it was. His lips curl into a grin. To think he’d witness his spoiled idol struggle with jealousy.
“That will be it for today!” the photographer announces, gesturing with his hands and guiding his helpers with the expensive equipment.
This was it, the last photoshoot. You unscrew the cap from your water bottle and take a healthy sip from it, wiping the sweat off your forehead with your other hand. The only good part about the continuous work was that you couldn’t check more of those annoying posts drooling over your bodyguard. Remembering it is enough to increase your heartbeat. The male model you were paired with for this campaign walks in your direction.
“Say, do you have anything planned after this?” He questions smugly. “You could come back to my place.”
What a ridiculous idea, you think with a grimace. Does this asshat think he’s worthy of your company? After a second of contemplation, you’re flooded with the same disappointment you felt back on the stage, watching your fan being carried away like a mere piece of cardboard over the much larger frame of your bodyguard. You might just consider the stupid offer. Why not? It’s not fair to be the only one plagued by jealousy.
“Sure. I know a better place, though.”
Your eyes narrow in a bright smile and you lead the young man towards your backstage room. As you pass by your bodyguard, you remember to mention in a low voice: “Make sure no one disturbs us.” He doesn’t answer, merely gazes at you with an empty expression.
“Man, that guy is scary as hell”, the model remarks as he throws himself in your vanity seat. “Are you not afraid to be alone with him?”
“Not really, no”, you respond idly. “You, on the other hand…”
“Excuse me?”
Now then. To set the scene, you gingerly climb into the man’s lap and adjust your arms around his neck. What a frail little human in comparison to your bodyguard. You blush in anticipation and begin counting in your head.
“H-hey, what did you mean-”
The young man is interrupted by someone’s abrupt intrusion. Your bodyguard throws you a quick glance before turning to close the door behind him. Alright, he can’t be too excited. He must pretend he’s furious, baffled, out for the hunt. You went all the way out for him. He even checked his watch to make sure you had enough time. He can’t let his enthusiasm betray him.
You jump out of the model’s hold with a gasp.
“It’s not what you think~!” you exclaim with feigned surprise. “He started flirting with me and I…” Your words trail off and you rub your arm nervously.
The bodyguard approaches the other man with monotonous movements and grabs him by the collar.
“Wait, you can’t possibly…he’s a well-known model!”, you protest with a fake cry.
Sweet little darling. Worry not, he won’t disappoint you. He’ll put on the best show for your sake. Anything to soothe your innocent heart.
“Could be the President himself”, your bodyguard confesses with a dash of theatrics, “and I’d still break his fucking neck for touching you.” He pulls out his pocketknife and looks at you. “I’ll deal with you in a moment, Miss.”
Your knees weaken and you have to rest against the vanity table. Among the screams and pleads for mercy coming from the poor butchered model, you can only focus on one thing: the violent fucking you’re about to receive.
Your bodyguard truly knows you best.
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