#i will continue to struggle and have my hard times. im not naive enough to think depression just goes away. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sxdmoonchxld · 3 years

Text

Proven Wrong | KTH

Taehyung x reader

Words: 4k+

Genre: smut

Warnings: Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Fingerfucking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Begging, Multiple Orgasms, Very Big Dick Tae, Like Scary Big, Like Gut Splitting Big, Unrealistic Sex, Belly Bulge, Bad Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex, Gets A Little Dubious Consent Towards The End

Summary: You call his dick small. He proves that it’s not, by wrecking your pussy ;)

a/n: again i use to be lizardsocial. this was my most popular story on here so im bringing it back as well. i think you can find the original one on here somewhere. i don’t expect it to get half as many notes it did the first time but thas okai. i’ve edited kinda heavily so it's a little different from the original. its filthier. anywhos. Enjoy!

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Loud music blasted throughout your apartment, the rumbling bass from the speakers reverberated through your bedroom walls. Pictures and posters rippled with each vibration, struggling to retain their original position. You groaned in annoyance, you honestly thought your request was quite simple. Just a couple of hours. 120 minutes of quietness was all you asked for so that you could study for your upcoming calculus test. He knew how important this exam was to you. He evened 'pinky promise, cross your heart hope to die'. That he would give you the silence needed to stay focused. And everyone knew you don't break a pinky promise.

Even now in your annoyance, his voice still played on a constant loop in your head.

"Oh! Yea ___, not a problem. I can keep it quiet for you. So don't you worry a hair on your pretty little head!" Taehyung had said, waving his hand in the air feigning nonchalance.

That cute signature boxy smile of his planted face. You actually thought that for once he would keep his word, and you could get some precious studying time, but no. The tiny 2-bedroom shared apartment was full of heavy jazz music and high-pitched shrieking from what sounded like a cat being skinned alive. Who even listens to jazz music when trying to fuck?

The last thread of patience had now been pulled too thin and finally snapped. Your desire to study was gone with the wind, and in its place, irritability and wrath began to take root. You slammed your laptop closed and threw it to the end of the bed along with your papers and textbook. Jumping out of bed, you stomped your way out of the bedroom, eyes searching frantically for your target.

"Taehyung!" You yelled once you began to process the scene that was in front of you. The living room was in shambles, Taehyung's phone was hooked up to the speaker, the volume loud enough you swore angels in heaven could hear. An empty soda bottle, chip bags and clothes littered the floor. Don't even get you started on the couch pillows! Your one of a kind thrift finds were strewn all over the place. You felt your blood pressure rising, the vein at your temple fattening in rage and pulsing wildly. Your jaw threatening to ache from how hard you were grinding your teeth out of anger.

Your eyes investigated the vicinity for Taehyung and low and behold there he was on the now bare couch. Lying underneath him was the source of the vexatious screeches. He was dry humping on some random chick with his mouth fiercely attached to her neck, deep purple bruises vivid from where you stood across the room. You rolled your eyes at the pair. You knew damn well Taehyung's thin lips and weak thrusts didn't call for all that useless screaming.

You stomped over to the speaker, your sock padded feet slapping against the hardwood floor, and yanked the cord from the wall. Already the apartment was halfway quiet except for the banshee that was still squawking her head off.

"Hey! Shut the fuck up with all that noise!" You roared, scaring the girl and finally bringing their attention to your heated figure. Taehyung separated his lips from the girl's neck with a wet smack dislodging himself from between her spread thighs.

"Y/n, so nice of you to join us. How is studying going?" Taehyung spoke with a grin plastered on his handsome face. You resisted the urge to reach out and slap it off. He knew that you couldn't or anybody for a fact, could study with all the noise that was just previously filling the confines of the apartment. Yet here he was playing with the smidge of patience you had left by trying to simulate naiveté.

"All I asked was for you to be silent so that I could study for my upcoming test, and you said that you would. But instead, I am interrupted by your noisy ass music. Jazz music at that and this bitch here screaming at the top of her lungs!" You growled out between clenched teeth. The female gasped at your words embarrassment transforming her features, while Taehyung sat there with a blank look on his face, apparently unamused with your little rant.

"Oh my! Please excuse my rude roommate Mino. Obviously, her parents forgot to teach her basic manners. Let me walk you to the door." Taehyung spoke his fluffy curls swaying with the shakes of his head. A look of disappointment aimed your way as he began helping her gather her things and walking her to the front door.

"Umm, actually my name is Mina." She corrected Taehyung, but you could see it on his face that he could care less about the girl's name. Taehyung looked at her for a few seconds, as if he was processing the correct information of the girl's name.

"Yeah. Mona, that's what I said, isn't it?" Taehyung deadpanned, pushing her through the front door. Mina huffed at the fact that Taehyung continued to get her name wrong. You observed the pitiful interaction as you began to clean up the mess they made. You could tell from the look in Mina's eyes that she wanted more with Taehyung, but you knew that would never happen. Taehyung was a manwhore, a fuckboy, man thot, whatever the preferred term was. He had a new girl every night, and if he did try the whole "relationship smorgasbord" as he called it. The relationship usually didn't last for more than a week, before he was on to his next conquest.

"Tae?" You questioned meekly.

"Hmm?" He hummed head-turning slightly in your direction.

"Why do you do these things to me." You were genuinely curious as to why he made it his mission to push your every button. This wasn't the first time his action has hindered you from completing an important task. You just didn't understand why he chose to make your life more complicated than it already was.

"Awe is little __ j-jealous?" Taehyung taunted in a high-pitched voice used to entertain babies or puppies.

"Huh?!" You gasped choking on your saliva. Shit, you almost gave yourself whiplash with how fast you swung your neck to make full eye contact.

"Did you wish that was you, I was grinding on?" Taehyung continued to taunt as he walked into the kitchen to rinse his mouth out with water. That Mina girl had put way too much perfume on her neck. Now he was left with a sour aftertaste in his mouth. It tasted cheap, and Taehyung didn't do cheap.

If he was sincere with himself, he did wish it was you he was giving all his attention instead of these random girls. He considered you cute and innocent, with an air of sexiness. That he was pretty sure you weren't conscious of. In all actuality, Taehyung was smitten with you from the first time he saw when you came to ask about the roommate needed sign he had posted. The cute little freshman with a quirky personality and full of ambition. Those first 10 minutes of meeting you had him sprung like no other. You were way different from the usual girls he was used to. Which shouldn't be much of a surprise since most just wanted to fuck, have money spent on them. Oh! Of course, the bragging rights, that they actually got to fuck THE Kim Taehyung.

Don't get him wrong, there had been a countless amount of times he had tried to gain your attention. But you were too busy holed up in your room with your pretty little head stuck in a book to give him the time of day. So instead Taehyung reverted back to his middle school ways and chose to torment and irritating you as a way to receive some type of reaction from you. He would take whatever he could get, he was becoming that desperate.

"What exactly did I have to be jealous of? You do know she was faking it right? I didn't think you to be so naive Tae, because you and I both know that them thin ass lips-" You stopped to point at the box that made up his mouth. "And that speck in your pants that you call a dick can't make anyone scream." You declared assuredly, moving your pointer finger down to his crotch. Pride and confidence swelled in your chest at the insult thrown at him. 'Good one __'

Taehyung spat out the water he was swishing around in his mouth and whipped his head in your direction. Did you just stand there and try to insult his manhood? Nah, clearly his hearing had to be a little off, right?

"Excuse me, what did you just say? My ears must be failing me." Taehyung said wiping the stray droplets of water from his mouth, sticking a finger in his ear to loosen the imaginary earwax there. Amused, he sauntered towards you, a ghost of a smirk rising on his face.

"You heard me, Mr.Kim. Your micropenis couldn't pleasure anything but your hand if even that." You said backing up, as he prowled closer to you, his shoulder in a tense bunch raised close to his ears. Any amusement his face could have held was gone, in its place was a dark, unreadable expression. His mouth fixed in a firm line, and the tip of his ears blossomed red. Flames of anger and lust flashing in his chocolate eyes.

"My sweet __, nothing about me is little. I can guarantee that." Taehyung growled out, his already deep voice deepened in tone. You scoffed trying to portray indifference but continued backing away from his advancing until your back made contact with the wall. Shit.

Taehyung placed his hands beside your head, caging you in. Your eyes fluttered softly as you breathe in his rich cologne encased your senses, dark, woodsy with just a hit of a floral note. His eyes roamed your face, taking in your features before settling on your lips. You self-consciously licked them before tucking them between your teeth. Taehyung leaned his face closer to yours.

"Such a pretty little mouth you have. Has anyone told you how troublesome it could be though?" Taehyung questioned, his thumb on his left coming up to your upper lip.

You could feel your heart beating against your ribcage, feel your cheeks heat up, and dare you say; a gush of wetness in the seat of your boy shorts. The sexual tension was too powerful for your weak defences. Against your better judgment, you let your eyes flutter closed, and lips pucker expectantly anticipating the moment his lips would meet yours. Except Taehyung had other plans.

He shifted his head to the right, placing a gentle kiss on the lobe of your ear. Slowly moving his lips up to the outer shell of your ear.

You couldn't help the surprised moan that left your mouth as you unconsciously tilted your head back, offering your neck to his probing advances.

"Would you like me to prove you wrong?" Taehyung challenged in a whisper. His deep voice sending shocks of pleasure zinging down your spine. He trailed his lips down your neck, pressing gentle kisses against the surface. You had to choke back the moan that threatened to escape you at the feeling of his soft lips on your neck.

"N-no, Taehyung." You panted breathlessly.

"I don't feel like finding my glasses to look at something too small for the naked eye to see." You spoke, resolute on getting in one last insult. Taehyung pulled his face away from your neck, growling at your words.

"Haha, hilarious." He laughed humorously.

He pulled your body away from the wall, hoisted you up over his shoulder with a small grunt, and made his way to his bedroom. Kicking the door open before unceremoniously throwing you on his plush king-sized bed. 'Not good'.

Taehyung stood at the edge of the bed staring at you with unadulterated lust clouding his eyes. His chest heaved heavily with anger or arousal, you weren't sure. But based on the sizable tent in his pants, you could guess the latter.

"Taehyung! I already told you I don't want to see your baby-." You started but was cut off by Taehyung grabbing your ankles and pulling you roughly to the edge of the bed, pouncing on you. His lips met yours in a kiss that stole your breath away. The kiss was sensual and firm, but you could tell he was holding back.

Taehyung snaked his hand up your body, and into your hair, giving it a sharp tug. You gasped at the slight pain giving him a clear path to ease his tongue into your mouth, coiling itself around your own, deepening the kiss further. He thoroughly explored your mouth not leaving one surfaced untouched by his tongue, greedily swallowing your needy moans. Fuck he tasted good. Like oranges and burnt sugar.

Taehyung detached from your mouth to remove his shirt and to help you remove your tank top as-well. Your nipples pebbling from the chilly air and arousal. His eyes studied your body, you wanted so badly to shield yourself away from his unwavering stare.

"You're so beautiful. I've waited so long for this." Taehyung whispered before attacking your throat with kisses. You whined out in pleasure, your hips bucking up with every love bite he delivered, your body was aching in need for more.

"Tae. P-please more. G-give me m-more." You keened in between pants of air.

Your hips now undulated in tiny circles as Taehyung trailed his kisses down your neck, to your breast. He sucked and bit the soft skin around your nipple lightly. Soon his tongue gently wrapped around your nipple, sucking it into his warm mouth, while his hand teased the other breast, kneading and pinching your nipple. Your moans were increasing in volume, at his assault.

Your legs widened on their own accord, making more room for Taehyung. Your pussy was weeping profusely. The boy shorts you were wearing were thoroughly drenched, and with each movement of your hips, your arousal perfumed the air. Releasing your nipple, he continued his way down your chest, moving his lips across your stomach. Down, down he goes until he's kissing you down to where your torso joins your pelvis. He trained his eyes on you, eager to see your reaction as he pulled your boy shorts off from your body with a wet smack.

"Tell me what you want love. Use your big girl voice for me." Taehyung cooed in a provoking tone. You would have told him to fuck off if it wasn't for his mouth hovering right over your clenching core, his hot breath attacking your pussy lips.

"Cat got your tongue? You sure did have a lot of things to say earlier." Taehyung teased once more. You moaned with each word he said, your hips thrusting upwards, hoping to find his mouth.

"Please! Just touch my pussy, lick it, do something! Stop teasing me!" You urged, bringing your hands up to stimulate your breast, you didn't know how much more teasing you could take. You could feel your essence seeping between your ass cheeks and coating the bed. The dull ache in your stomach was intensifying, and he had barely touched you.

"Mmm, well since you begged nicely." Taehyung replied, wasting no time in attacking your pussy. His broad tongue licked wide strips up against your pussy. Splitting your lips with the appendage with each pass to dip his tongue into your pulsating hole. Your hands found his soft brown hair as your back arched off the bed, pushing your cunt deeper into his face.

"Y-yeahfuck! Like that it's so good!" You whined slurring your words.

Taehyung shifted his probing muscle's attention to your clit, attacking it with kitten licks. You shouted loudly, as your thighs were beginning to shake. The coil in your stomach tightening almost painfully. He wrapped his strong arms around your thighs, your knees were hitched higher up almost touching your chest in this position.

But this way, he had much more leverage to devour you. The comforter on his bed bunching uncomfortably beneath your ass but at this moment you gave zero fucks. Taehyung had total control now, showing no remorse as your upper body thrashed about on the bed. Your hands were no longer able to reach his hair, so you opted for your own instead, pulling harshly on your roots.

"Fuck, Taehyung!" You wailed shrilly. Taehyung chuckled at the sounds you were making, remembering your words from earlier he couldn't wait to hear what you sounded like taking his dick.

He then rubbed two thick fingers in the abundance of fluids that your pussy was producing and gently eased them into your tight core.

"Not only is baby girl surprisingly noisy, but she's also pretty tight too." You clenched even more around his fingers, your wall throbbing wildly around them.

"I can't wait to feel you around my dick." Taehyung moaned sucking your clit into his mouth, delivering hard sucks as his fingers pumped into you at a moderate speed. Sadly, the introduction of his fingers was your undoing. You couldn't help as your legs stuck straight in the air. Body arching off the bed and bowed forward as your orgasm hit you like a freight train knocking the wind from your lungs.

Your eyes were shut tightly, and your mouth hung open in a silent scream as your body convulsed from the intensity of your orgasm. Taehyung had a hard time holding you down but continued his assault on your creaming pussy. He slurped as much of your cream as he could, absolutely addicted to the way you tasted.

"T-Tae, stop-p." You called out to him pathetically. Your intense orgasm had passed, but he was still thrusting shallowly inside your tight core, lapping at your clit. The oversensitivity was becoming too much, as you struggled to wiggle away from him. Taehyung withdrew his fingers and ceased his licking with one last kiss on your clit, making you flinch at the contact.

Taehyung beheld your fucked out appearance with pride. Your legs splayed open, displaying your spasming cunt. The way your chest was swiftly rising and falling as you struggled to catch your breath. Your hair stood up in every direction from your previous pulling, body trembling with aftershocks, and all he did was eat you out and finger you.

"Wow." You mumbled your eyes closing, sleep trying to claim you.

"Oh, nonono. I'm not done with you yet." Taehyung proclaimed, flipping you onto your stomach. He had to admit he was the hardest he had ever been in his life. His pants were now unbearably tight, and a wet spot at the crotch of his pants started to become visible. Taehyung tugged the offending material off hissing as his massive erection made contact with the air, free from being confined. You lifted yourself with jelly arms onto your knees, wanting to see what the commotion was behind you.

You choked on your spit for the second time today, as your eyes made contact with the angry red monster Taehyung called his cock. Not only was he unbelievably thick; a little bigger than your wrist, but he was also long. In his hands was the living definition of a third leg. He was crazy if he actually thought that would fit inside of you?

"Fuck that shit!" You cursed trying to scramble to the headboard of the bed, but Taehyung halted your escape, grabbing your ankles and yanking you back.

He would have laughed at your reaction, but he was too turned on, there was so much blood rushing to his cock he felt lightheaded. He wasted no time in putting you back in your previous position. Pulling your ass up so that it was sticking in the air and your torso was lying flat on the bed, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.

"Tae! Wait...you can't be serious!" You tried pleading with him terrified that thing he called his dick was going to tear you apart.

"Not so little am I baby?" He snickered

Don't worry, you can take it I'll go slow." Taehyung groaned his voice strained, his arousal was beginning to take a toll on him. Taehyung grabbed his shaft and brought the bulbous tip of his cock to rub against your clit. You mewled with pleasure, his tip was hot and the pre-come he was leaking added to the sensation of relaxing and reigniting your body.

Taehyung continued to stroke his tip along your clit thoroughly coating it with your thick fluids. He placed the thick head at your entrance, your juices helping him to slide in. He watched in amazement as your leftover cum gather around the head of his cock in a coating out creamy white. Your body tensed up at the massive intrusion, your cunt pulsated wildly around him, drawing a deep groan from his throat.

"Baby relax, you're squeezing so tight." Taehyung moaned out affected by your spasming core. He reached his hand underneath your body and strummed at your clit once again, coxing you to relax.

Taehyung took your distraction as his cue to shove the offending length inside your prone pussy. You squealed at the sudden fullness and intense burning. Bucking your hips, trying to dislodge him. It was too much to take, especially at this position. Your pussy was going to rip in half.

"B-bi-iig-g. To-o mu-ch." You whined out stuttering horribly.

Taehyung gripped your hips harder to stop your fitful twisting and bucking. He felt as though he was about to explode you were so damn tight and wet, your bucking didn't help his case any either. He didn't wait this long to finish early. He refused to be a one pump chump. Taehyung reached his hand back underneath your body to locate your clit, rubbing it in firm tight circles, to help relax you, and sure enough; like magic, after you adjusted to his massive size, your body was suddenly filled with mind-numbing pleasure. Your whimpers turned into loud groans as you threw your hips back onto Taehyung, giving him the okay to start moving.

"Hell yeah. That's it, baby girl work this tight little cunt on my cock." He grunts before he withdrew his length and slammed back in, his dick splitting your sensitive walls, hitting every spot inside your clenching cunt. His strokes were fast, broad, and powerful, never had you felt so full in your life. Your mouth was gaped open, as shrieks of pleasure fell from your jaws, drool dripped from your lips, and dots blurred your vision. You could feel him in your guts, branding himself inside you. The coil in your stomach was quickly tightening, ready to release what was no doubt, going to be the most intense orgasm your body was about to experience. Taehyung could feel your core tightening up further, your tight little pussy was far better than he could have expected, he wanted to punch himself for waiting this long to indulge in you.

"You're taking this big cock so well, baby. Such a good girl." Taehyung growled.

"But I have a secret to tell you." You shivered as he stopped mid-stroke. You felt the warmth and damp skin of his torso drape over your back. Like pudding in his hands. You didn't even flinch as he brought his large callused hands up through the part in your breast to wrap around your throat.

Ever so slightly he squeezed the sides of your neck, you felt him throb in your stomach as you clenched even tighter around him at the action. Slowly he lifted your head up with his hand still on your neck. Again he squeezed. Bringing his lips down to your ear, he said, "Would you believe me if I said you're only taking half of me in."

The way your jaw dropped and your eyes bugged out of your head would have been comical. If you weren't genuinely terrified, that is.

"O-nly half! That's impossible I swear your touch my small intestine already." You tried to look back to see if he was lying or not, but he tightened his hold on your neck, forcing your head back to look up at him. Your body was now bowed in an almost perfect 'C' shape. You felt his other hand snake around your abdomen and press on the bulge that was his cock poking through your stomach. Again he throbbed in excitement.

"You were talking such a big game earlier baby girl, what happened? Surely you could all of a dick that's as little as mine. Right?" Taehyung scolded in your ear.

Little by little, he began pulling you more on his cock by your neck. And fuck he really wasn't lying he really had more length to feed your cunt.

"Ta-ae, pleaseplease n-o more-e, I can't take it m-my stomach hurts." You whined

"Hmm? But you're so close to taking all of me in. Just a few more inches, and I'll be all in." He responded.

Not wasting any more time he released your neck, and before you could fall down to the bed. He locked his fingers in your hair and firmly yanked, lifting you off the mattress, and into his arms, allowing himself the rest of the way in.

You screamed out as his hips met your ass with a wet smack. The increase in pressure coupled with the new position broke the levee to your release. You trembled uncontrollably as your orgasm started from your toes. Quickly spreading to your arms and head before finally spreading throughout your whole body, you were rendered speechless as your orgasm claimed you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as a burst of white light flashed behind your eyes, incoherent sounds of what was supposed to be Taehyung's name filled the space around you.

Through it all Taehyung continued to fuck into you almost violently, allowing your cores convulsions to wash over him. His body dripped with sweat as he briefly picked up his speed, his hips beginning to stutter. He held your thrashing body close to his as delivered his last couple of thrusts before moaning loudly and exploding his hot seed inside of your wrecked cunt.

You both fell breathlessly on the mattress, sweat polishing your skin, exhaustion quickly making its way to claim you. Taehyung pulled slowly out of your battered and swollen pussy. On wobbly legs, walked to the restroom to get a washcloth to clean the mess that was between your thighs. You moaned at the textured touch of the cloth and the dampness of it soothing the hot burn from your pussy.

Your whole body was numb, and you were utterly worn out, so much so, that when Taehyung pulled you into his arms, you didn't even argue.

In the morning you will definitely be having a word with him. But for now, you let his racing heartbeat lull you to some much-needed sleep.

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sistervirtue · 3 years

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okay so im seeing people get anons about this and its coming up in friend groups so i think now's actually a pretty good time to tackle the idea of religious (specifically cultic) abuse in media and how we as an audience interact with it

TLDR: dehumanization and sexualization of cult victims furthers the misunderstanding that cults "don't exist now", and RA survivors would feel much safer in fandom spaces if people acknowledged and analyzed the harmful portrayals of cults in media.

cw: discussions of cults, abuse, and sexual assault

also, if you have questions, please shoot me an ask or dm (off anon preferably, though)

let me start this with a disclaimer that i dont think every media that features ra is inherently bad. i think thats a bit harsh and as an ra survivor ive come to terms with the fact that there are going to be depictions of it in ways that maybe dont give it the respect it deserves, and trying to "what about [x]" everything will only lead people to talking in circles with themselves. what i want to address here is how you, as a consumer, respond to and parse out what cultic abuse means in any particular portrayal of it.

*also please don't harass people about their RAS status, like, if you see someone enjoying something with a less than stellar portrayal of cults, don't send them asks or dms like "well are YOU a cult survivor?" reducing the consumption of media to a yes or no game based on identity-- especially an identity that comes as the result of explicit pain and spiritual violation is not only derivative but also degrading to survivors and the people you're grilling. all we want is for people to think carefully about what they spread and portray, and how they think about those situations.

so, i think the first thing to tackle is...what is a cult? This is something that's surprisingly hard to define, especially in fictional settings with fictional cults. For example, (and pardon the use of this example, I don't feel like hunting for others), My Hero Academia has an organization in it that I would say fits the criteria for being a cult, but by and large isn't considered one by fans because it's not explicitly called a cult. (Although numerous cult jokes have been made about it). It also has an organization that IS explicitly referred to as a cult.

So, when you're dealing with how to process what is and is not a cult-- and how to make your presence safe for RA survivors, you have to be able to sift through more than just "did the narrative tell me this is a cult?"

There's a few different models people use; one of the most popular being the BITE model-- but I should clarify that the BITE model is really tailored towards religious and strictly hierarchal cults, but can be applied to other kinds of cults.

(and yes, there are cults other than religious/spiritual ones. corporate cults and wellness cults have been on the rise, and it's good to keep that in mind both when engaging with media and also in the real world.)

However, I'm a religious cult survivor, so a lot of my experience is strictly irt this, so please take what I say with a grain of salt, and know that I don't speak for every cult survivor, every religious cult survivor, or every religious abuse survivor. I am One Guy on the internet.

When it comes to media, I have a few questions I run through in order to figure out if something is A Cult.

1) Fringe Ideas. This one is one of those that most people know-- and often incorrectly use to attribute cult status to other things. However, it is worth mentioning, that you don't become a cult by following mainstream ideologies. BUT. BUT. not every group with weird ideas is a cult! Some groups are just weird and are fine being weird. It's a rectangles and squares situation. All cults have fringe ideas and behaviors, not all fringe ideas and behaviors belong to cults.

2) Hierarchies. Cults always have people in power, at least in my experience. There have been ideas thrown around about "completely decentralized cults"-- but to be honest, I'm not sure how I feel about that concept, and I don't know enough about it personally to say whether or not it's legitimate. If you have any sources, hmu.

BUT. Most cults have a power structure. You're going to have leaders, usually with a handful at the verrrrry tippy top, whose word is law. This can be associated with things like religious ideas (channelling god) or being "a genius", like in corporate cults.

3) Control. I cannot stress this enough; cults are all about control. How you think, feel, behave-- they discourage critical thought, encourage snitching on each other, buddy-group behavior; the BITE model explicitly lists these models of control.

4) Us V Them. Cults will give all those that oppose them or simply don't believe them a bad name. They're uneducated, they're evil-- it varies cult to cult, but you'll see them turning the non believers into a homogenous, frightening group. They want to discourage looking outwards, and they want to viciously isolate members.

Other things of note are extremism, talks of enlightenment, harsh punishments, the cult eating large portions of the member's finances, etc.

However, this post is largely to address FICTIONAL cults. and the unfortunate fact of the matter is that fictional cults are rarely fleshed out in a way that can be held one to one to a model, and, more often, don't even afford the victims of a cult humanity.

and this is one of THE biggest issues you find in cult portrayals. the leader is usually a charismatic, or perhaps menacing, figure, one that usually our protagonists-- who are rarely cult victims, they are typically outsiders (not inherently bad, mind you)-- faces personally, with the hoardes of mindless zombies forming one giant hurdle.

Naturally, this can be...hurtful. There's nuance to who is and is not a victim in a cult (although my rule of thumb is to look at what abuses that person specifically exerts over others-- and you can be both a victim and perpetrator of abuse. to treat them exclusively is lacking all nuance), but the people are the bottom, even if they joined willingly, are people who were preyed upon. Not only that, but many media cults forget that people can be born into cults, and never really had a choice to begin with. To treat these people like they are mindless-- or that they deserve the suffering they are in because they are there-- completely erases all nuance, humanity, and understanding to the cult survivior struggle. Not only that, but it continues to sensationalize and deify cult leaders, which is doing their job for them, really.

The second biggest issue is the romanticization and sexualization of cults, religious abuse, and cultic abuse.

(yes...this is a thing.)

The use of cults as a way to make a character edgy or tragic is one thing, but there's something sinister about using it to project a certain sexual behavior onto that character-- whether it be as the subjugator or subjugated. Sexual abuse is rampent in cults, and ritualistic sexual abuse is used to justify it. To sexualize the idea of a cult(ist) raping and abusing someone is...beyond offensive to anyone who has been in a cult where their sexual safety and autonomy has been compromised. Or, in some cases, the cultist is so naive and sheltered they can be easily coerced and taken advantage of due to their brainwashing.

This is...bad? This is bad. To ignore the fact that these depictions are just as harmful as any other romanticization of abuse is to ignore the real suffering of cult victims.

Really, the larger problem is that people don't really think cults exist, not really. They're all things of the past, or things that exist solely in fiction-- when in reality, every day cults form and continue to grow. If you've ever met a mormon, you've met a cultist. The moment you begin to process and parce the fact that this isn't as bizarre and unusual and fictional as it seems, you take the steps to respecting people who have been in that situation and become better at detecting cults, cult recruitment, and are able to more clearly assess what you take in.

Once again, there's so many bad portrayal of cults that it would be...stupid to call for an immediate disowning of anything with it in it. I personally have come to terms with the idea that I will have gripes about these portrayals in most cases, but rarely do I see people other than fellow RA or cult survivors discussing these portrayals. I'm hoping people can become more aware and willing to discuss cults in a serious and analytical context and criticize how they're portrayed in the things they love.

And once again, cult survivors are NOT a monolith. If a cult survivor expresses they are uncomfortable with something I said here that I'm not, or vice versa, listen to the people who actively surround you and whom you care about.

#nyc knacks #cults #ive been sitting on this for a while but it came up on the dash and i took the opportunity to talk abt it #bc i feel very passionately abt it #ok 2 rb

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wh6res · 3 years

Text

sedan | jaemin

—part 2

synopsis. it was only a matter of time until he snapped. he was right, you should've seen it coming.

warnings. noncon, swearing, yandere themes, there’s a knife lmao

note. yalls idk :( it keeps deleting paragraphs when i add a readmore wtf is this sorcery IM SO SORRY

[read part 1]

apparently, your captor had enough respect for your dignity not to take you in the backseat of his old sedan. saying something along the lines of how you had completely ruined the mood by how much you were crying underneath him. “it’s not even pretty crying!” jaemin had exclaimed, hauling you up to your feet and carrying you bridal style towards the house.

respect? pft. he has long passed the line of respecting your dignity—the moment he forced that drug into your system and shoved you inside his car, he was a goner.

you don’t bother thrashing against his arms, having thought better. with your wrists and knees duct-taped together, running seemed like a joke. instead, you stare longingly at the outside world over jaemin’s shoulder—it definitely isn’t the last time you’ll see it, but if you were here because of his fucked up possessiveness over you, then escaping will be a challenge.

three months of working alongside jaemin is enough for you to know how thorough he can be. he’s quite the perfectionist, and you remember admiring his keen attention to detail but now you only fear for the things he has in store for you to make sure you’ll never leave his side. it was due to this train of thought that you involuntarily start shaking against him. the automated lock in the front door beeps into place and now you were stuck here with him, once and for all.

before you are able to take a look around the house, scoping enemy territory, a hand comes up to cover your eyes. the moment your fingers wrap around his wrist to pry it away, he hisses, and you let go immediately.

“stay still or else,” you obliged, scared of what he can do now that he has you all to himself inside the house. “i know what you’re thinking. still so fucking predictable. you’d have to earn my trust until i let you roam around here.”

the loud clicks of your restraints locking together prove that he is a man of his word.

the basement he keeps you in is disgusting. the tiles beneath you are cold, a few leaking pipes in the corner, dust everywhere, and a tiny window across the room—you doubt your chains can reach that far. but what captured your eyes the most is the numerous pillows stuck onto the walls and ceiling. the colors of its casings are faded, none of them matching one another at all. it was as if everything was messily put together at the last minute and you almost feel a tiny bit of relief that maybe, jaemin isn’t as thorough as you thought he’d be.

“i soundproofed the walls and everything, isn’t that romantic?”

you don’t answer, too caught up thinking about how you’ll stay warm that you don’t notice the way his eyes trail over your shaking figure, knees tucked under your chin, pressing yourself firmly against the wall to appear smaller. to create as much distance from him as possible.

jaemin frowns in distaste, a low hum resounding in the back of his throat as he thought; no, this won’t do.

“are you cold?” he asks.

once again, he’s met with silence.

if there is one thing jaemin absolutely hates with a passion, it was being ignored. the feeling is so foreign to him. maybe it was because of how much he naturally expects to bear the spotlight, that when you refused to even slightly acknowledge him as anything, he was confused. fascinated but frustrated at the same time.

it is the same frustration he felt when you turned him down. the same frustration he felt when you fought against him. the same frustration he felt when you don’t stop crying underneath him. the same frustration he felt right at this very fucking moment.

“i don’t think ignoring me will do you good, sweetheart. i asked you a question, didn’t i? i’ll say it again, one last time,” the edge in his voice is unmistakable. “are you cold or not?”

at this point, jaemin feels stupid for even thinking about granting you the slightest bit of leniency by leaving you alone tonight. jaemin had been willing to put aside his desires and wants for you. but his patience can only stretch so far until it comes snapping back.

and boy, were you in for it.

he utters your name, low and threatening and you just knew what it meant. as the victim, it should’ve been in your best interest to keep your captor from losing his shit and hurting you… and yet, you remain silent. you don’t know what’s gotten into you. the words are right at the tip of your tongue but you don’t say anything. it was as if time had stopped and your brain had short-circuited, making you forget how to speak.

when he stood up from the stool and started stalking towards you, you knew it was too late.

“jaemin…” your voice shakes. “jaem—yes, yes—i feel—i feel cold—”

the sting on your right cheek is the only thing to register in your mind for a few good seconds until it all clicks into place. he just backhanded you.

“i never thought you’d be such a fucking bitch,” he hisses, pulling at your restraints. “you were so silent, i thought you went mute, baby. how can you treat me like that? it’s no way to treat your lover.”

his soft tone catches you off guard for a fraction of a second. it was the same way he spoke to you before… all of this. it was the same tone that had once lulled you into a sense of security when you were stuck in a new environment, scared, making mistakes left and right, but jaemin had proved he can be someone you can depend on.

and look at what that cost you.

jaemin’s eye twitched when he noticed the slightly dazed look on your face, eagerly slotting himself between your thighs before holding your legs down with his shins. his hands dart out, grabbing your jaw in one hand before placing the other snug around your neck. the man can feel the rush of his blood flowing through his veins, ears ringing as he admires how pretty you were underneath him—pretty and helpless.

with a sudden urge, he darts his head forward to take a long whiff of your hair, eyes rolling back in ecstasy. he barely even registers the tears wetting the hand holding your face. jaemin is too far gone in his head because finally, fucking finally, he has you right where he wants you and absolutely no one can steal you away from him anymore.

meanwhile, you try hard to push him off of you but the pressure he’s applying to your legs proves too much. the hand encased around your throat pulls away and your happiness was short-lived as jaemin reaches for something above your head. it glints against the sole fluorescent light in the basement—

you freeze at the sight of his pocket knife.

he laughs, sounding too sweet and lighthearted. “now, now. i won’t hurt you…”

you hold your breath when he drags the knife across your body. from your collarbones, down the valley of your breasts, and finally settling at the bottom of your shirt. “i won't hurt you if you don’t move around too much.”

the sound of fabric ripping against the sharp blade made you want to thrash as hard as you can but jaemin had purposely angled the knife so the tip dragged against the surface of your skin. bile rises up your throat when you notice the way he eyes every inch of your torso as its slowly revealed to him.

“see, i know you’re a good girl. i just have to force it out of you sometimes, huh?” he mocks, quickly hooking the knife under your bra so he needn’t struggle reaching for the hook in the back.

his reaction is immediate the moment he sees you bare before him. he doesn’t even grant you the chance of hiding when he’s managed to hold your wrists in one hand, the knife clattering loudly on the floor as he surged forward, lips latching onto one of your breasts as his free hand feels the other one up. you turn your head to the side, not wanting to see his ministrations. until one particularly hard nip makes you yelp, his teeth latching painfully against a nipple before glaring at you through his eyelashes.

“eyes on me.”

jaemin can’t have you turning away from him. it simply looks like another act of defiance, as if you were depriving him of the expressions of pleasure found in your face as he continues to lick and suckle at the skin of your breasts, purple and red blooming on your skin.

when jaemin retracts from you to pull his shirt over his head, you made the last feeble attempt of trying to escape him. you’re able to free one of your legs from underneath him and have successfully delivered a kick to the groin. jaemin folds in pain. you managed to flip onto your stomach, dragging your body away with just your arms. you’ve only managed a few inches, chains rattling aggressively, when you felt his nails dig into the back of your thighs.

“fuck,” he grunts. “you’re going to fucking pay for that, pretty thing.”

he turns you around with one hand, unfazed by the pitiful look of your tears and snot cascading down your face as he looms over you, his knife in one hand as he fists your hair.

you shook violently as you brace your hands against his bare chest. jaemin would’ve revelled at the feeling of you touching him if you hadn’t kicked him in the balls only seconds ago.

“jaemin, please… i don’t want any of this—”

“you’re so cute, begging like anything could get you out of this.”

you flinch, eyes shutting closing on instinct. you feel something sharp poking on your neck, and it only takes you a fraction of a minute to register that jaemin is now holding his knife against your throat. digging the blade enough for you to know it’s there but not hard enough to draw blood.

“look how much you’re shaking, baby,” he coos, the tightness in his pants becoming unbearable as he gives you a one over. “such a sheltered kid, aren’t you? no wonder you’re so fucking naive, always making mistakes. always making the wrong judgement. you’re used to depending on someone, right? well…”

jaemin slices the skin above your collarbone. you don’t scream, the fear of him slicing your throat all together lies heavy in the air.

“…it’s a good thing you met me, huh?”

fuck you.

“i’m here, baby. you can depend on me all you want,” the giddiness and the sudden spark in his eyes make you dread what he’ll do next—you hear the sounds of a belt unbuckling. “i’ll bathe you, i’ll feed you, dress you up, but…”

there are no tears left when you feel his fingers pulling your shorts down together with your underwear. no tears left when you feel the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance.

“…you’ll have to give me something in return. that’s what good girls do, right?”

you screamed.

#yandere nct #yandere jaemin #yandere kpop #tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw knife

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heyitsyn · 4 years

Text

Keeping Up With Seijoh Ep. 1

a/n: this is a mini-series that are based off of your asks and once i,,,,, finish,,,, my seijoh phase, i will also do this for the other schools but pls take these offerings in the meantime as i work on the next part of my manager!seijoh and the time traveler au

for more seijoh content, check this masterlist out!

anon request:

Wow, your series of Seijoh managers is so cute.🥺👉👈 After starting to read, I can only think about Oikawa and y / n on a Saturday night seeing mean girls, painting nails, taking care of the skin and the another day Oiks rubbing the face of everyone who spends much more time with his dear businessman LMAOO Anyway, congratulations on your work 💕💕 seriously, I LOVE this series omg-

I MIGHT BE AN IWA AND KYO STAN BUT OIKS IS DEFINITELY THE MOST BEAUTIFUL AND PRETTIEST DUMPSTER IVE EVER SEEN

yep lets start the pilot

so basically, oikawa was being oikawa again

what might i mean, you ask

well, he was starting to work much harder than before since this was his last ever inter-high and his last ever chance on beating ushiwaka

even though they finally have the team assembled avengers assemble! with kyo back on the team, he still felt lacking and wanted to use every single free time to work on becoming better

yall fun fact about me, oikawa is actually my favorite character bc of how hard he works and the pain i have in that once scene during the karasuno match when he slammed into the tables and was struggling to get up bc of his knee----NO IM SOBBING AGAIN

iwa noticed him doing this again so he sent you out to drag him out and distract him from this

‘cmon oikawa-san-’

‘NO, Y/N-CHAN! I HAVE TO-’

‘no, the only thing you have to do is spend time with me bc i miss you and i want to have that movie you kept talking about’

bahahaha he is so whipped that a single ‘i miss you’ from you will literally make him break his back and bend for you

it was successful and you were in your room, your parents understanding oikawa and his antics since youve complained about it before, and he was sitting on your floor while looking through movies

‘y/n-chan, do you have no alien movies in here? or barbie?’

IN MY CONTENT, IT IS CANON THAT OIKAWA LOVES THE BARBIE MOVIES FITE ME

you laughed from your spot on your bed and shook your head

‘no, oikawa-san. natsu took all my barbie movies and i get scared of alien movies��

he pouted but continued to look until his eyes literally lit up

it was like god took a picture of him and you saw the flash

‘MEAN GIRLS! Y/N-CHAN I DIDNT KNOW YOU LIKED THIS TYPE OF MOVIE!’

he shrieked but you shrugged

‘meh. katsuki, natsu’s boyfriend, gave it to natsu as a joke but he gave it to me instead bc he cannot stand regina george’

you reasoned while picking out nail polish colors and looking through the ingredients of your face masks

‘WE’RE WATCHING THIS! PERIODT!’

omg hes so loud but i am too so we compatible

ugh i hate my logic

then later,

as the movie played, you were arguing with oikawa as he refused to wear the unicorn and wanted the panda one, which was your favorite

‘OIKAWA-SAN, I LIKE THIS ONE!’

‘Y/N-CHAN I LIKE IT MORE!’

you sucked in a sharp breath before relenting bc you wanted oikawa to be relaxed per request of your beloved senpai

‘fine. but i get to paint your nails’

he nodded eagerly and you handed him the packet, to which he simply stared at it

‘y/n-chan, can you,,,, put it on me?’

he sheepishly asked and you gave him a confused and bewildered look

‘oikawa-san, have you never put these on yourself?’

he shook his head, cheeks flushing and eyes focusing on the blue blanket

‘my sister always put it on for me. or iwa-chan’

‘IWA-?! wHAT-?!’

but you nodded anyways and he made you sit on his lap to put it on

‘um, oikawa-san, this position-’

he smiled at you, a gentle and real smile, not the ones for his fangirls

‘nuh uh, its fine, y/n-chan. oikawa-san loves you so he likes you right here’

he mumbled, blushing and wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer making you giggle and nod

‘okay. close your eyes then, oikawa-san’

he excitedly nodded, expecting a kiss from you but you flicked his forehead making his eyes fly open and wince at the pain

‘so perverted, oikawa-san. pervert-oikawa-san’

you scolded and he pouted

he said something but you didnt listen, instead placing the mask on his face and smoothing it out

his fringe was about to touch the wet material so you hastily grabbed a clip and held his hair up

he looked so cute that you couldnt help but reach over and snap a picture of him

‘ara ara gomen did y/n-chan just take a picture of oikawa-san?’

he teased but you shook your head

‘no. what are you talking about?’

he did the same thing to you and now you were both painting each other’s nails, ofc staying loyal to your school mint green and baby blue on the ring fingernail

lmao dont blast me for not being exact w the school colors but it looks mint green to me

he finished yours first and omg?? hes so??? good?? like what???

you were holding his large hands with your small fingers and his heart started thumping really fast at the simple touch

‘thank you,,,,, y/n-chan’

you looked up to him with large eyes, still unfamiliar with the softness of his voice

it was such a contrast compared to his usually loud and obnoxious, mocking tone

‘oikawa-san is not a really good captain since he burdens and bothers everyone but you always fix it all and keep everyone together. so, sorry for everything’

he mumbled and the eye holes from the mask let you see his sad eyes, genuinely sad about himself

you made the last paint stroke and capped the nail polish before leaning forwards, hands on his thigh so you could be closer

oikawa ofc freaked out because wow youre so much prettier up close and he doesnt?? deserve you??

your eyes blazed with anger and he stuttered your name but you cut him off

‘OIKAWA-SAN IS NOT USELESS. HE IS A REALLY GOOD CAPTAIN WHO LED HIS TEAM TO BATTLE THE ULTIMATE RIVAL AND EVEN THOUGH THEY LOST, THEY STILL WON IN MY EYES. YOU GOT KENTA-KUN TO COME BACK EVEN THOUGH HE DIDNT WANT TO BUT HE DID BC HE KNOWS HOW GOOD YOU ARE. HE WANTS TO PLAY ALONGSIDE A PLAYER WHO DESERVES TO BE ON THE COURT AND EVERYONE ELSE THINKS THE SAME THING. ME, Y/N, IS JUST A MANAGER WHO MIGHT NOT KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT VOLLEYBALL OR THE TECHNIQUES AND ALL THAT BUT I RECOGNIZE YOUR TALENT AND YOU WILL MAKE IT BIG SOMEDAY, OIKAWA-SAN! I PROMISE! AND WHEN YOU DO, I WILL SUPPORT YOU AND COME TO YOUR GAMES BC YOU ARE MY CAPTAIN AND I DONT REGRET EVER MEETING YOU. SO DONT APOLOGIZE AND SAY SORRY TO ME, INSTEAD TELL ME YOU ARE HAPPY TO BE IN THIS TEAM AND SAY YOU LOVE THE TEAM AND YOU LOVE VOLLEYBALL AND YOU LOVE-’

but he cut you off, placing a chaste kiss on your exposed nose

yall really thought it was the,,,, speaking function part of your face

nahnahnah that is only for the doggie

oop what

you stopped, flustered at the sudden action but oikawa smiled

‘i love you, y/n. i really love you so give me a chance, okay? i will wait, no matter how long it takes but,,,, let me catch up and for now, think about me, okay?’

BRUH HOW IS THAT RELEVANT TO HER LONG RANT LIKE WHAT---

you tilted your head to the side, confused

she is deadass naive like bls protect her

‘a chance for what? you want to catch up for what? youre already good, oikawa-san’

then he laughed

so much more different than the ones he let out in public

it was so,,,, beautiful

you found yourself grinning with him and he calmed down, brushing away the stray hairs that is in danger of getting stuck on your mask

‘come on, y/n-chan. lets go take this off’

he stood up and offered his hand which you took

after the moisturizing and final touch-ups for your skin, you finally settled on the blanket fort and dozed off, the movie still playing but you were too comfortable in oikawa’s arms that you didnt even notice the credits rolling

the next day, you didnt feel the need to mention it at all

but oikawa did and it was still truly an accident

iwa heard about him staying late again and you having to drag him out of there and he was hitting him and kicking him again

you were so used to this that you were just writing down your notes at the corner, oblivious to oikawa’s crying

finally, he had enough of it

‘SEE THIS IS WHY Y/N-CHAN DOESNT LET YOU SPEND THE NIGHT WITH HER! BECAUSE YOU ARE SO MEAN!’

um, sire what did you just say

that was completely taken out of context and everyone, omg, especially iwa and kyo just froze

‘what,,, did you just say?’

iwa asked in a dangerously low voice and you shrugged

‘you told me to distract him, iwa-san, so i did. he was happy and satisfied and thats all that matters, right?’

you shot them a smile and oiks had such a smug smile when iwa looked at him and he was about to hit him when kyo just came out of nowhere and YEETED the smile off of his face

oikawa screamed

just a wittle blurb about this bc i totally love this :( and he totally needs more love and some of my readers love oikawa and want oikawa manager content so here it is!!! feast on these crumbs!!!!

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starlightkenobi · 4 years

Note

sooooooo...... i have a request pls. dom!obi-wan x reader where he was a breeding kink. I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT IT.

IM BACK !!!!! coming back with some fun requests because this is H O T. also sorry this one is a tad bit short, still coming back from a huge depressive episode lmao. but writing definitely feels so good and im so happy to be back 💖

Breed // Obi Wan x Reader

rating: explicit

warnings: dom obi wan, breeding kink

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Obi Wan wasn’t a possessive person. Material objects, attachments, they were all forbidden by the Jedi code. But there was something about you, something that gave him the carnal desire to claim you, to own you. He had never felt that way before, not about anyone or anything. When he realized how he felt about you, he made a secret promise to himself that he would never act on these feelings. A lot of good that did, considering here he was, every last inch of him buried inside of you.

It wasn’t like this was the first time though. He had been here many times before, in the throws of ecstasy with you writhing beneath him. But what started as a way to stave off more confusing feelings quickly became the source of them. Eventually, you two couldn’t deny how you felt any longer, and Obi Wan had to accept that breaking the code couldn’t be so bad if it felt this good. Good to love, and to be loved. And it felt good to admit that, too.

“I love you.” Obi Wan’s breath was hot against your ear. It sent a shiver down your spine and straight to your core. You were panting, engulfed in a pleasurable fire that sent heat to your aching cunt. Your heart was filled with warmth, too. Warmth at the fact that Obi Wan did, truly and completely, love you.

“I l-love you too...so much.” You stuttered, struggling to form coherent sentences with him pounding you. To say that he was “fucking your brains out” would be an understatement. To be fair, you did have something else on your mind, the thought of his cock shooting cum deep inside of you. And on top of that, you could tell that Obi Wan was getting close.

“Obi Wan...” You moaned, clawing at his sheets.

A smirk danced across his face. “Yes, darling?” That damned smug composure. It wouldn’t last too long though, you were sure of it.

“I want...I want you inside.” Obi Wan laughed as much as he could muster while being this breathless.

“Darling, I am inside of you.” He punctuated each word with a calculated thrust, sending you reeling.

“No.” As hard as it was, you held eye contact with him and thrust your hips forward to meet his. “I want you to cum inside of me.”

His jaw dropped as you could see the last bit of his composure slip away. It took every ounce of control in his body to not cum as soon as he heard those words fall from your pretty little lips. His hips faltered, and he took in a shaky breath.

“Are...Are you sure, darling? I just think-”

“Obi Wan.” You cut him off, thrusting your hips forward again and encouraging him to resume his previous pace. “I want you to fuck your cum into me. Trust me, I’m sure.”

This set off something for Obi Wan. The desire to take you, claim you, own you, in the most primal way possible. You were his to do this with, to mark your insides with his seed so that no one else could ever have you, only him. His darling.

Out of nowhere, his thrusts resumed, taking you completely by surprise. You gasped, twisting your fingers even tighter in his sheets. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you? You’d love me to fuck a baby in this tight cunt of yours.” You could have sworn you heard him growl as he said that.

Now, there was no actual way that he could get you pregnant. You were on birth control, and you weren’t naive enough to risk Obi Wan’s position on the council. However the thought still brought you closer to the edge.

You moaned, loud enough to usually make you nervous of other people hearing, but right now, you didn’t care. “Please...fill me up with your cum!” You were whining, grasping at him and pulling him closer to you.

Obi Wan’s hair stuck to his forehead and his hands slid from your hips to your thighs. He pulled them apart impossibly further, admiring the sight before him. “Look at you, begging for my cum.” A smug grin appeared on his face. “Well, since you asked so nicely.” He continued to pound his hips against yours with such a force that you felt the bed shaking. For a moment, his pace faltered, and you felt his hips stutter. Through half lidded eyes, his gaze met yours. “Cum for me, darling.” The coil within your belly snapped, and you were sent spiraling into a powerful orgasm. As soon as you started squeezing around him, you felt his cum shooting into you. It heightened your orgasm, sending you further and further into the mind blowing pleasure.

Your breathing was labored and heavy, and you could feel a bead of sweat drip down your forehead. You looked absolutely wrecked, but you couldn’t say that Obi Wan looked much better. You were both absolutely exhausted, but sated and pleased with tonight's events. You were especially pleasantly surprised with the fact that your words struck a very particular chord with Obi Wan.

As content as you would have been to lie here forever with Obi Wan inside of you, you were beginning to get a little uncomfortable. You tried to shift your body in an attempt to get Obi Wan to pull out, but his grip on your hips tightened, and he only pulled you closer.

“Not yet darling, I don’t want to waste a single drop.”

#obi wan said #imma fuck you with the might of ZEUS #star wars #fanfic #the clone wars #smut #obi wan kenobi #obi wan smut #obi wan x reader #obi wan

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unusualasparagus · 3 years

Text

/dsmp SBI origins

Hello. I just came up with a little bit of head-canon about SBI origins. It’s a long one so please sit back and enjoy these ideas/theories.

Some points to consider before reading

Now personally, I like the idea of Phil having 3 biological sons, Tommy Techno and Wilbur. Tubbo isn’t in their family as I like the concept of Puffy being his guardian.

Wilbur and Technoblade are both twins who are AT LEAST 10 years older than Tommy in the story, (take what you want from it I would love to hear their age gaps from you guys)

For the biological mother: I will refuse to believe its a fridge but instead, their mother was rather unstable and decided it was best for her to stay with her sister and away from the kids although she regularly visited them. One day Phil opened the door to find his sister-in-law inform him that his wife had passed. In addition, a small 3 month old child was given to him, claiming it was his (but no one knew weather that was true or not). That child was Tommy.

More of a personal one, english isn’t my first language, and I’m not that confident in writing but I just wanted to let my ideas out. I hope you all get the general idea of my HC from this post!

Philza

popular builder (architect), he was well known and respected in Town and a member of the local council. He was humble and always helped others going through hard times (Schlatt). He was a peaceful leader although he found his job rather not desirable. He would often spend hours working, leaving his 3 sons alone. At home, he had to struggle with the two different ideologies of his twin sons. When will left at the age of 22, Phil had just settled into retirement. Two years later, Tommy also left for the city, following Will’s footsteps. With less money, and his old age, he struggled to find work up until Techno started a potato farm and they lived quietly for a couple of years. He exchanged letters with will. After 8-7 so years, he got an urgent message from Will to come to his nation L’manburg, but when he came, it was too late and you all know the rest.

(Side note: Phil had developed a liking for Technoblade, as he was the only son that stayed behind to help him. That doesn’t mean that he didn’t love Tommy and Wilbur, just that he loved Techno the most)

Wilbur

Will had lived a quiet childhood, as he emerged into adulthood, he realised that he was rather weak physically and thus, used his words. He became a popular speaker with radical ideas of starting a new nation for the migrants (aka his own people) living in the great city of DSMP. He often argued with his twin Technoblade, with his beliefs of a strong nation, and his brother’s beliefs of anarchy. Once, the arguments went on for a week straight leading to Wilbur leaving his town for good. With no goodbyes, he just left a letter to Phil explaining that he has gone to make his dreams a reality and form a strong and powerful nation.

When Wilbur entered the city, he realised he had no money, no job nor no connections. He settled in the slums, from where he talked to other migrants. He became a popular speaker amongst the migrants and the poor, who at the time had very little rights and often treated with injustice. To start up his nation, he needed money, so he started the drug business with his followers, which eventually followed to the nation of L’manburg.

(Side note: Sally. Wilbur meet Sally in the city as a fisherman (woman? idk). They did have a son in this HC but I will refuse to make Fundy a child for many reasons that I may provide later on if this gets enough attention lmao)

Technoblade

The oldest, Technoblade had ALWAYs been a quiet person. He was not a skilled leader like his father nor emerged from his introverted persona to become a powerful speaker like his twin brother. When he was 16, he enrolled in the military. Ranking his way up, at age 20 he was a well respected solider. He was immensely skilled in combat, with many claiming he will never dies.

Deep inside, Techno was an anarchist with ideas of free men. As said before, he argued with his brother quite a lot. At age 22, he had to leave his position in order to go help his weak father and younger brother. He started a potato farm near his house to help finance his family. His ideas of anarchy grew stronger and stronger and he wanted to prove his twin wrong by showing him the power and strength in power for all. Around 6-7 years after Wilbur left, Techo decided to act on his plan to destroy the nation of L’manburg only to find out that his own two brothers had been exiled from the nation they created. Even though he still wanted to continue with his plan, he felt pity for Tommy and decided to side with Pogtopia up until the end.

(Side note: I had some ideas about young Techno trying to support his family by participating in gang fights to get money. That’s why he got put into the army at such young age and was such a skilled fighter)

Tommy

Being the youngest, he had a lot of influence from his two older brother while growing up. Looking at the actions of his elders, young tommy inhibited the annoying skill of being loud and obnoxious, believing it’s the only way to get a point across. When he was 11-12 years old, he started receiving training from Technoblade, one of the greatest soldiers during the time. Tommy picked up the skills very quick and became skilled in combat (more than Wilbur but way less than Techno)

When Tommy was 14, he decided to run away from home to his brother. He received letters from Wilbur stating the city was lively, majestic and new and that he should come. The naive young boy decided to leave his town and come to the city. When he came, he found the city life to not be so glorious as it was said in the letters. Nevertheless Tommy kept his spirits up. He lived with his brother in the Slums and worked as a construction worker, helping build the sewers before joining the Drug Empire and soon, the nation L’manburg. During the two years, he made friends with a quiet but chaotic baker and beekeeper, Tubbo.

(Side note: when L’manburg was formed, Wilbur was 26 and Tommy was 16)

IM SO NERVOUS TO POST THIS AHHH. But yes hello DSMP tumblr, I’ve been here for around 10 months just in the shadows, please accept my humble HC offer <3.

Ps, if this get enough attention, I have some HCs origins for Tubbo, Fundy, Ranboo, Dream, Schlatt, Niki Nihachu, BBH, George, Sapnap and Eret. LMK if you want to hear them.

I also have a TOSMP them-inspired story about Ranboo’s character. I am going to write that no matter the response from this post so stay tuned.

#dsmp #dsmp theory #tommyinnit #philza #philza minecraft #samsung refrigerator #sally the salmon #wilbur #wilbur soot #techno #technoblade #lmanburg #pogtopia #dream smp

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gracelessfighters · 4 years

Text

i fall apart

JJ Maybank x female reader

Masterlist

Summary: kinda like a quick little travel through the relationship between reader and JJ as things get progressively worse (shit summary sorry)

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: hella angsty, cheating, thats it? im mentioning angst again

A/N: i’ve had a really bad day today and i wasn’t originally going to write anything because i wasn’t in the mood, but i had this idea and have literally been crying whilst writing it hence the ANGST (not that this situation applies to me tho i’m just emotional) also havent really read through this so ignore the mistakes

~ italics are flashbacks

“Hi, I seem to have lost my phone number, can I have yours instead?” The blue eyed boy said, distracting you from the large crowd around you, the music fading in the distance as you looked at him and laughed.

“I think that’s the worst pick up line I’ve ever heard,” you say, still smiling at him, “but I suppose I can give you credit for trying, why don’t we start off with names blondie.”

“I’m JJ.”

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.” You beamed at him, taking his hand and leading him away from all the people on the beach.

That was the night you met JJ, the night your life became so much better and so much worse in the blink of an eye. If you could, you would make it so you never met him, that way at least you wouldn’t be feeling so empty, so broken and in the most pain you’d ever experienced right now.

You sagged back against the sofa, tears welling in your eyes as another memory of your time with JJ hits you without warning.

“Do you two ever stop with the PDA?” Pope scowled at the two of you, you were sprawled across JJ’s lap, his hand intertwined in yours, your lips still a little swollen from the long kisses JJ would steal from you whenever he caught your eye.

“You’re just jealous man,” JJ grinned at Pope, moving to stroke your leg, “jealous that I have an incredible girl on my lap who loves me.”

Your heart flutters as JJ talks about you, this sound too loud for you to hear the small voice in the back of your head notice that he only said you loved him, not the other way around.

But it didn’t matter, you did love him, he was currently one of the only good things in your life, and even if you felt a little wary about his feelings towards you, you knew that was probably just him struggling to admit them, not because they weren’t there.

If only you hadn’t been so naive, so ready to love a troubled boy whose smile and jokes melted your heart, and whose body made you feel faint. Even though you felt he did love you in his own way, he was not the type of boy to commit - to love forever and without fear. Not like you wanted.

You balled your hands into fists, anything to try and calm the shaking that travelled through your body as you began sobbing once again.

You pulled up to the chateau, hoping JJ was there as he hadn’t showed up to your date. You had waited for hours at the table you were meant to share a meal at, both staff and customers looking at you pitifully, not understanding why you refused to order anything because “he was coming, he just must have gotten caught up with something.”

It had taken closing time of the restaurant to lift the hopeful fog from your eyes, as you got into your car, one lonely tear fell down your face. You had been planning this date for months, something special for your four month anniversary - not that four months was a long time in the scheme of things but as the rest of the pogues said, JJ wasn’t one to commit for more than one night normally, so it should be celebrated.

And you thought he wanted to celebrate it too, even answering your text earlier confirming the details of tonight with an excited reply, as if he loved you - he obviously didn’t though.

The chateau seemed quiet from outside, the only sound were the bugs that appeared at night and the soft sniffles from you as you composed yourself, ready to see why JJ hadn’t shown up. You prayed that he had drank too much, that would be the only time you’d be happy if he had, as it meant the answer you feared wasn’t the correct one.

An overwhelming sense of dread came over you as you opened the door and entered the messy but homely place John B lived in. The door to the guest bedroom was closed, maybe he was just sleeping? He might’ve worked too hard today in all the kook’s gardens. Yes that was probably it.

You took a deep breath in and opened the door, wishing you had prepared more for the likely reality, as that was what you were met with. You could feel your heart break as JJ’s eyes opened at the sudden noise, quickly removing himself from the grip of the naked girl beside him when he realised it was you.

You didn’t want to be here, but you couldn’t move or breathe, all you could do was mutter a small “oh”, as your mind caught up to what your eyes were seeing. JJ already scrambling out of the bed, rushing to get his shorts on so he could try and talk his way out of this.

Your body finally moved, your feet carrying you away from the worst thing you’d ever seen, trying to help you escape before you broke completely.

You knew that image was going to forever live in your mind, hell it was there right now - the sleeping girls face so calm and content, and JJ’s was panicked as he realised he hadn’t gotten away with it. Did that girl have something you didn’t? Was she prettier? Or did JJ just never feel the way you did, instead using you as a placeholder until he could use a stupid pick up line on the next girl to walk past him?

That had happened yesterday, and you had barely stopped crying since, your whole body was now weak from the pain you were feeling, the dehydration from the tears that had been shed and from barely moving off your sofa.

Ten missed calls, that was all the effort JJ had put in trying to talk to you, you had seen his name and face appear on your screen each of these times, but you couldn’t bare to hear his excuses right now, couldn’t bare to hear the voice you loved. It hurt a little that he had stopped at ten, not even a text of ‘I’m sorry’ had been sent, just a few calls. And without you answering he must’ve given up, no longer caring about you and even if you hated to admit it he was probably with the pretty blonde girl.

That was until he knocked at your door, shouting for you to let him in to ‘explain.’ You knew he wouldn’t leave if you refused to open it, and honestly you would rather get this over with so you can go to bed, hold a pillow to your chest and cry.

His face was full of guilt when you opened the door, almost enough for you to forgive him then and there, almost.

“Y/N, please it was a moment of weakness I’m sorry.” He said as he walked past you, turning to face you once he reached the lounge.

“It was our anniversary date tonight JJ.” You hated how small your voice sounded, but the pain in your chest had muted any of the fiery emotions you wanted to feel right now.

“Oh shit,” he mumbled, “we can reschedule it, do it next week instead, put this whole thing behind us.”

You shook your head, “No, we can’t just put it behind us. You betrayed me JJ, I loved you and I know now you never loved me, I just wish you had given me the courtesy of telling me before I found you in bed with someone else.”

You wanted to shout or scream, anything to express how hurt you were, but all that came out was a small voice, one that had been broken like never before, and you weren’t sure if it would ever go back to normal.

“I do love you Y/N,” he moved to grab your hand, only for you to step back, “please, I really do love you.”

“No you don’t, I’m not even sure you can love me. At least not the way I want.” You took a breath before continuing, “I want someone I can melt around. I want someone who melts around me too… I don’t want this standoffish, unromantic love that you’re offering. I want more than that and I think I deserve more too.”

He couldn’t look into your sad eyes that contained only the truth, so he walked away, away from you and your relationship until he was out of your house and on his bike, heading somewhere you didn’t care about.

As soon as the door shut, you collapsed, the breath leaving you body. And as you sobbed, all you could think about was how you wished you had never met JJ Maybank.

----

tags: @outerbankslut

this is highkey really bad but oh well

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank imagine #outer banks #outer banks imagine #obx #obx fic #outrebanx #jj maybank angst #john b routledge #pope heyward #kiara carrera #rudy pankow

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saberspirit · 3 years

Text

jiang cheng character analysis essay under the cut! bc he means a Lot to me (its 5 pages im sorry)

tl;dr my thoughts on his relationship to his parents, his relationship with anger and feelings of inferiority, what zidian represents to him, his siblings (largely about what led to him and wwx falling out), and my thoughts on reconciliation between him and wei wuxian in the end.

tw!!! for child abuse and death, also warning for spoilers for the ending.

alternatively can be read on google docs for accessibility

foreword: by writing this it is not my intention to imply this is the end all be all interpretation, or that i know more than fans of colour (especially chinese/chinese-american fans). i’m looking at his character as a white fan and through a western lens. i understand there are nuances i wont understand, but i have tried and continue to look at him w/ an educated view point and i’m always trying to continue my own self-driven education. i’m as always open to criticism and correction, although i understand it is no ones job to do so. it’s purely an interpretation from someone relating to his themes that i talk about here. thank you for reading!

Jiang Cheng has a very complicated relationship with his parents (understatement), though different from Wei Wuxian’s complicated relationship w/ them (some overlaps being given).

It’s obvious to me that JC identifies more as his mother's son than his father's—feels he has to be because surely that’s why he feels neglected and like he’s constantly being found wanting by his father (even if Fengmian does Not mean to come across that way and isn’t a cruel man). He identifies with his mother’s anger and feeling of not being what his father truly wanted or loved and I don’t think he realized the effect she had on him with her constant comparison game—trying to measure him up because Madam Yu used him as a playing piece in her constant warring with Fengmian and instilled a sense of otherness in him and his deep-rooted feelings of inferiority and not being Good enough, not being enough in general. And yet he still deeply loves them even through all that he’s been through because of them both.

He never grew up learning how love should be in a relationship; should be from a parent to a child. The love he learned is a different type of conditional love from WWX's (WWX being that he doesn’t trust it in the first place, knowing it will leave). JC receives love and praise but knows it comes from a silent arrangement: it’s transactional. He upholds what his parents want and he gets…a form of it. Jiang Fengmian loved him in a way that you just kind of do love family, perhaps without a real reason otherwise—not pretty, but it is as it is. Madam Yu loved him in a way one loves a possession: she saw too much of Jiang Fengmian in him and JC was a reminder of how unhappy she was and how much her husband didn’t seem to care about her or what she gave him. (This isn’t to downplay Yanli's role in JC’s life: I think she was truly the only one to show him unconditional love in a way that he understood and recognized but it's unfortunately different from siblings and fell on half-deaf ears when all JC really wanted was his father’s approval).

Madam Yu was (afaik) stated to not be physically abusive (aside from the whipping when the Wens came from Wei Wuxian), but she was one-hundred percent verbally and emotionally abusive (for example, punishing WWX w/ isolation from the family w/ seclusion, or in general just how she talked to JC and WWX). She broke those two boys and it's something that can’t be undone…and Zidian represents that trauma, abuse, and expectation and JC’s anger and resentment that was the product of it. It’s literally lightning in a whip form; able to bind without harm, but it’s primarily used to hurt; it can reveal a true form; control over it is only relinquished to one’s family and loved ones.

JC doesn’t just lash out verbally at Wei Wuxian when they meet in his second life, he literally does. It’s his anger under his skin like static, driving him forward and being unable to rest because he’s constantly looking for closure he can’t have. He resents how his parents and Wei Wuxian made him feel but it’s also the only thing he has of them, and he clings to that (and therefore Zidian). It’s the last thing, bar Lotus Pier, that he has of his family anymore, and he wields it like a weapon…because ultimately it’s the only thing he's known for a very long time. Anger is an easy emotion. He wears it well. It was an emotion he learned from his mother, and he is his mother’s son.

As a side note for Zidian: Jin Ling refusing to take it from JC in the Burial Mounds to me was very much about not wanting a goodbye. He's a stubborn kid—JC mirrored what his mother did to him in handing off Zidian before certain death, and I think Jin Ling realized "take care of Zidian" meant "because I can’t anymore". JC wanted Jin Ling to stay safe and keep a hold on their family's legacy, but Jin Ling refused it and stepped forward to protect JC—JL is tired of goodbyes and afraid of losing more people, but also that stubborn streak to protect his family back. He went into the fray himself even if it’s not what JC was asking him to do (but then to JC’s chagrin the kid never really does do what he asks usually, Jin Ling has a good head on his shoulders and he’s as stubborn and quick to anger as his jiujiu but he’s also as incredibly loyal and caring). And I think it's a good vehicle to show that JL is breaking that cycle for them both.

Back to Jiang Cheng and anger and his siblings though. Yanli is all about showing affection in her words and actions (ie. meal sharing, peeling the lotus seeds, etc). WWX struggles to show it in forthright actions, let alone verbalize it (he’s truly bad at it) so while WWX does love his brother and shows it in actions like giving him his golden core…it’s not something JC picks up on well, or at all because he doesn’t even get told about the core until the Guanyin Temple. Jiang Cheng is someone who needs verbalized confirmation and very obvious action. But then to be fair, JC is also not good at verbalizing his love and care (he and Wei Wuxian are two peas in a pod w/ this one). It’s often behind barbed wire because 1) that’s how it was shown to him and 2) because it’s safer and easier to hide behind anger. He really does use it as a shield to protect his real feelings because he’s used to his feelings being trivial and being thrown in his face, and is used to loss. It’s a buffer.

This leads to a problem: Wei Wuxian does love him unconditionally, but I don’t think JC knows that. When he’s faced with the golden core surgery after everything, it’s definitely obvious, but it’s so twisted up in being hidden from him, in his own fears and feelings of failure and reliance that it’s soured. And he struggles to reach out and be frank with his own worries.

And this leads and lends to the severity of their falling out (not the only cause, but a big player in it).

He deeply loves his brother, but it's also entrenched in his bitterness and fears. If it was initially hard for him to verbalize because of those issues (on top of being a teenager/young adult and his feelings of inferiority irt WWX), he’s now in the current day steeped in sixteen years of loss/grief/trauma. Of unresolved tension between the two of them because WWX never told anyone anything—even if that’s just how he is, nothing personal towards JC except maybe that it’s his little brother, his shidi, and he doesn’t want to put a burden on those he loves—and JC tried time and time again to believe him and in him.

The problem was that his trust got thrown in his face time and time again. His older ‘peers’ (clan leaders) mocked and insulted him to his face for his naivety, pointed out that what WWX was doing was an insult to JC and their family, that WWX’s actions disrespected him and that he should do something about it. WWX’s actions themselves alongside him never letting JC in on anything further isolated them and put walls between them. This sewed the seed of the idea for JC that maybe he was naive. That WWX couldn’t uphold his duty and promises to JC and their family while also upkeeping his own personal code of ethics. (Not that it helped that Jiang Cheng also started lashing out at Wei Wuxian in minor ways for not having Suibian, but he didn’t exactly know why, to his credit).

His trust was him trying to care for WWX through all they’ve lost, but he’s also under the immense pressure of leading and rebuilding his home while also being looked down upon for his inexperience and ties to the man the cultivation world loathes.

Jiang Cheng believed WWX when he said he'd help him, wanted him to and expected him to. That’s his big brother and ultimately family comes first, so it was out of the question that WXX wouldn’t uphold that duty to him. Jiang Cheng is barely an adult as Sect Leader and was still a teen when they lost everything, so of course he wanted to rely on and believe Wei Wuxian when he said he'd help. JC doesn’t usually rely on others—I’d wager he hates relying on WWX especially as a callback to the inferiority complex—but he lets WWX in when they have the “Twin Prides” talk, lets him in when he promises JC to help him rebuild their home…and then WWX lets him down several times.

Post Burial Mounds there are signs that JC notices, if not consciously then subconsciously, that something is off with his brother (the demonic cultivation, the flute, the lack of Suibian, his weakness when pushed, etc), little things that he noted but didn’t have the time during a War to think too deeply on. He’s more relieved to just have him back where he can see him, happy that his brother can help them. Jiang Cheng gives him his vote of confidence in his abilities, in him, because he never thought of WWX or his methods badly (having been a fan until it became a symbol of losing Wei Wuxian to Something Else). Even if he had thought something of it, did have a concern, they don’t easily talk to each other now.

That much is obvious when after various meetings post the Sunshot Campaign as WWX is struggling with his temperament and resentful energy, after WWX saves the Wen remnants from the Jin Clan, and Jiang Cheng shows up at the Burial Mounds. He still believes in Wei Wuxian, still is bound to help him, and wants to help him. He’s willing to sacrifice the Wens for his brother. His actions and words are not pretty, but by god is he desperate. Jiang Cheng wants to save him and hides it with harsh words because once again he’s not good at being forthright with his feelings. He’s at his wits’ end, he’s barely 20, and suddenly he's losing Wei Wuxian too. It’s not about them being Wens because at this point he’s aware they’re helpless—it’s because it’s WWX and he’s supposed to make the right decision and be competent. It’s freshly post-war and he’s scared: his big brother is leaving and he feels powerless and he Hates that. Once again feels like he’s not good enough. Not good enough to save WWX, not good enough to lead, and he’s under intense scrutiny. He tells WWX as much that at this point he can’t help, and it hurts him to not be able to. Jiang Cheng wants Wei Wuxian to help him, help him. It’s an admittance wrapped in hurt and hurtful words, and WWX throws it in his face because he can’t let him in.

It’s not meant in any malicious way. Wei Wuxian is also traumatized, scared and hurting and dealing with the changes demonic cultivation is causing within him. But this is a key moment when JC for once verbalizes his fears and WWX tells him, ‘good, you don’t need to worry, I don’t have anything to do with you from now on’. (And of course, WWX is doing this to protect JC, but this response is what JC is afraid of).

So we have two times that JC has tried really hard in his own ways to let WWX in. To rely on him and be honest with him and WWX ends up…breaking his promises and leaving him and their family behind. And to me, that explains his actions when the last time they speak before he dies (that we’re shown anyways). WWX is sitting down with Jiang Cheng and Yanli. JC is the one that set up them being able to meet him, the one that reached out even after they fought to make his defecting from the Sect look convincing. He was the one that told Yanli that WWX should be the one to give a courtesy name to her child.

And then WWX brings Wen Ning. Yanli is open to Wen Ning sitting in and enjoying their family tradition, but JC can't understand why. Why WWX chose these people over his own family. He resents it. When he says "you might not be able to come back, to your family" I can imagine how much it destroys him to hear WWX say "but the people I’m returning to are also my family". Because what does that make them, WWX’s siblings; what does that make the promises and the years spent raised together, the duty he had to them first. Wei Wuxian might return to the Burial Mounds, but Jiang Cheng has to return to an empty Lotus Pier. The ghosts of his parents and ghosts of memories of his siblings he’s never getting back (because Yanli will be in Jinlin Tai after her upcoming wedding).

Repeatedly over and over Jiang Cheng reaches out, but time and time again it’s like WWX is telling him he’s not enough: not enough for WWX to rely on, not enough to protect him, not enough for him to want to return to, not enough to be family.

Then the cultivation world comes for WWX and his amulet. Yanli is killed, as far as JC can tell, because of the mess WWX made, and once again he’s in the dark about everything. Then WWX dies and rumours swirl that JC killed him, and maybe he did, maybe he is his brother’s killer even if Wei Wuxian would call it a misunderstanding. He’s left alone with an orphaned nephew in Lotus Pier with his entire family, bar an infant, dead.

So Jiang Cheng spends the next sixteen years without answers, with WWX having reinforced his insecurities and fears that stemmed from the abuse he'd suffered during childhood and then died. Yanli died when she never should’ve been in danger in the first place, seemingly because of Wei Wuxian. And he's so angry. He lashes out at memories and reminders, lashes out at anyone who chooses that same path that WWX chose over his family.

By the time Wei Wuxian’s come back from the dead and JC knows it’s him, WWX is still deflecting, still hiding still not telling him the truth. The fact that WWX comes back at all hurts purely as a fresh opening of the old wound, but the fact that he doesn’t come to find JC, that once again JC and his family isn’t a priority and once again is second best (this time to Lan Wangji)?

He doesn’t kill his brother. JC sits him down in a room and tries to talk but old hurts rile up and he reaches for anger again. WWX isn’t forthright and it makes it worse, neither of them are good at communicating: too many things unsaid, that can’t be said, too many misunderstandings and neither of them knowing how to talk about it. JC has Fairy there and it’s a minor act of revenge. JC uses what he knows is WWX’s weakness to intimidate and immobilize him, but it doesn’t help either of them actually talk.

Reconciliation is going to require WWX being able to talk to him without deflecting and JC getting angry so easily. But by this point, he’s given WWX a lot of chances and it’s why I think they could and would easily post-canon. Jiang Cheng's starting to come to an understanding that WWX did and still does care about him. He didn’t give him his golden core for no reason, and JC starts to understand why WWX did it for him and that he knew JC well enough to hide it in the first place.

He started to reach that conclusion shortly after Wen Ning told him—oh the pain of it having been WWX's chosen little brother figure—and Jiang Cheng had gone around asking people to unsheathe Suibian. It's why he brought Chenqing to the temple in the first place.

I think it speaks to his maturity that he decided at that moment he couldn’t say what he wanted to tell WWX in the end. I think he knew neither of them was ready, but I also think it speaks of how much he misses and trusts WWX to have let him go for now…I think he knows they will meet again as long as they both live, and that they'll be better for having waited. After some time to think, digest, they’ll be ready to be family again and all that entails.

#he really lives in my head rent free and i just. well. i think hes a really good example of the ''uglier'' side of the feelings of--#-- victims of abuse and how we deal -or sometimes cant- with it in our lives afterwards and how they affect relationships #BUT the important thing is that hes healing :)#jiang cheng #for my own tagging purposes #caleb meta hours #caleb.txt #i may come back to edit this tbh its 1am and i spent 3 hours editing it

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riotwritesthings · 4 years

Text

Melt into Me (Your Words Are My Own)

WinterIron, E, 18k, Heavy casual praise kink, pining, non-graphic injury, self care is big sexy | AO3

Remember when I said this prompt for WinterIronMonth got way out of hand? I was young and naive. It’s a monster. Here it is I’m super proud of it.

This fic, like lots of other fic, is all Stella’s fault. Everyone say thank you. And an extra big thank you for the idea, and the title, and in general letting me whine about this fic at you all the way through. You are truly a treasure.

Bucky has a new strategy for getting Tony to take proper human care of himself. Tony has never been so well fed, hydrated, thoroughly rested, and confused in all his life.

That doesn’t mean he wants it to stop, and it’s amazing how many boring adult things Bucky can get him to do just by patting his head and calling him ‘good boy’. Right up until Tony possibly ruins everything.

“Did you actually go to medical before coming down here?” Bucky asks as he walks into the lab. He fixes Tony with an expectant stare, looking freshly showered and gorgeous and-

Tony viciously shoves down that line of thought, instead holds up his arm and shows off the neat line of stitches on his forearm “I did,” he says smugly, “and you can tell, because these are much neater than when I do it myself.”

“Your stitches are terrible, I’ve seen literal evil scientists with better needlework than you,” Bucky says agreeably, stepping close to inspect Tony’s arm before giving a satisfied nod.

“That’s hurtful,” Tony says, dropping his arm and turning back to his worktable before he does something stupid like lean in and try to get a big whif of the shampoo Bucky uses. “Now where’s my treat, that was the deal, I went and let the ‘professionals’ sew me up and you better not be backing out on your end of the deal, or-“ Tony cuts off when a ziplock bag of homemade cookies lands on the table in front of him, straight from Bucky’s secret stash that no one has been able to find. “Yay,” he says gleefully, ripping into the bag.

Bucky’s hand is suddenly resting on top of his head, gently ruffling it, and Tony is uncomfortably aware of the fact that his hair is a sweaty mess because he may have gotten distracted on the way to his post-battle shower. Then Bucky pats his head and coos “yeah, tha’s a good boy.” His voice is equal parts teasing and amused, maybe a hint of condescension and underneath it all a fond warmth, like he really is pleased Tony dragged his pitiful human ass to medical after a relatively routine fight.

Tony flushes hot, nearly chokes on his giant mouthful of cookie and the only saving grace is that Bucky has already wandered away to play some kind of elaborate game with the bots. Tony still does not understand the rules of said game, and he wishes he found it less endearing that Bucky refuses to explain it to him.

Okay, so. That... that happened. Tony turns his attention back to the gauntlet he’s trying to repair and tells himself it’s fine, it’s not like it’ll ever happen again. It’s fine.

And the thing is, it’s not like Tony meant for it to happen again. It’s not like he was aiming for it. At least... not intentionally.

It’s just that Bucky’s been pestering him about actually remembering to eat lunch at a decent time recently, so when one day Tony actually does remember he decides to rub it in a little. ‘Ate lunch,’ he texts even though it’s silly, it doesn’t even matter and Bucky is only a couple floors up helping Steve rearrange furniture to Natasha’s liking for the millionth time. ‘Don’t see the big deal, but now maybe you’ll leave me alone you big mother hen.’

About half an hour later, Tony is heading to check out the new common room arrangement when Bucky texts him back and he laughs when he sees that it’s just a cookie emoji. Then Bucky adds ‘good boy’ and Tony makes a strangled sound as he walks into the still-opening doors of the elevator.

Tony spins on his heel and punches the door-close button before anyone spots him. Because he really doesn’t need company while he presses his flaming red face against the cool metal wall of the elevator, his heart thumping hard in his chest. Tony firmly tells himself that had not been his intention, and it’s really a good thing he’s so experienced at lying to himself.

Tony tracks Bucky down to hand over the fancy new scope he’s just finished, and finds him in the library curled up in an oversized armchair. It’s unfairly adorable, and Bucky’s smile does dangerous things to his heart.

“Thanks doll,” Bucky says, staring up at him instead of inspecting his new toy. When Tony tries to literally wave him off, already turning for the door, Bucky catches him by the wrist and gives a gentle tug until Tony relents and meets his stupid earnest gaze. “I mean it,” Bucky says, “I know how hard you been workin’ on this, thank you.”

Tony sputters, and then makes a couple nonsense noises while something uncurls warm and amazing in his chest. “No worries,” he finally manages and it’s both a relief and a disappointment when Bucky releases his wrist. “Making scopes is my jam. That’s better than the one I just put on Clint’s bow. Don’t tell him.”

“I’m gonna tell ‘im,” Bucky says instantly, smug and grinning and still just staring up at Tony, like he could possibly be more interesting than a digital scope. “I get the best stuff an’ I wanna make sure he knows it.”

“Whatever makes you happy, snowflake,” Tony says, face warm because oh god he’s so obvious, isn’t he? When he turns to enact a manly flee, Bucky lets him go and the sound of his soft, fond laugh follows Tony the rest of the day.

It kind of spirals out of control from there. Tony tells himself he doesn’t love it, but even he doesn’t believe himself anymore.

Bucky snatches the coffee cup out of Tony’s hand and replaces it with a glass of water before Tony can even begin to formulate a protest. For a long second all Tony can do is blink in stunned silence because how dare?!

Tony narrows his eyes in a glare, and apparently the twitching of his free hand gives him away because Bucky shifts to hold the mug way up above his head with that wide, gorgeous grin. Tony is pretty sure, if he tried hard enough, he could get that mug back, but it would probably end in both of them covered in water and/or hot coffee. And it would involve a lot of pressing himself against Bucky and attempting to climb him like a tree, which is... probably not a great plan.

So Tony chugs the water, glaring the whole time, and then Bucky hands back his coffee with a quiet “good.” Tony struggles to fight back his blush, can’t at all help the smile that takes over his face, and Bucky just smiles back before continuing on his way.

“JARVIS, please wake Bucky up just to inform him that I am pointedly not getting more coffee at three in the morning, and please do it as obnoxiously as possible,” Tony says as he stares into the depths of the fridge, “I’m thinking air sirens. Neon lights.”

There’s a soft, low chuckle from right behind him, and Tony has just enough time to freeze up, his eyes going wide. Then Bucky’s hand is in his once again messy hair, and Bucky’s low, sleep-rough voice is rumbling out “good boy.”

By the time Tony finds his own voice again Bucky has leaned in close against his back to swipe one of Clint’s juice boxes, patted him on the shoulder, and started for the door. “If I’m a good boy then where’s my cookie?” He calls after Bucky’s retreating back, tongue thick and heart racing.

“Good boys go t’ sleep,” Bucky calls back, pointedly, and Tony grumbles all the way to bed.

He sleeps like a fucking baby, wakes up still feeling warm and happy and flushed.

"I don't need a brain scan," Tony insists. Again. “My brain is fine. It’s excellent. It is a stunning example of a human brain, ask anyone. Except Bruce, but he’s still just mad that I broke his favorite microscope.”

Bucky continues to stare him down, then lifts his shiny metal hand. "How many fingers am I holdin’ up?" He demands, and Tony would be insulted if he wasn’t having such a hard time focusing.

Tony stares at his hand, counting carefully. "Three," he finally declares, with full confidence.

"That took entirely too long!" Bucky says, dropping his hand again even though it looks like what he really wants to do is just throw both hands in the air and yeah, Tony gets that a lot. "You have a knot the size of a fuckin’ golf ball an’ no offense, but it’s ruinin’ your pretty face. Go get th’ damn scan!"

Tony taps his screwdriver against his chin, eyes on the ceiling, and decides he should probably wait to freak out about the ‘pretty face’ comment later, alone. So for now he turns a sunny smile on Bucky, pointing his screwdriver, and says "no.”

"Please, doll? Do it for me?" Bucky asks, completely shifting tactics, and he even has the gall to pout at Tony. With his blue eyes and red lips. The nerve of it.

Tony holds firm. For about five seconds. "Fine," he sighs, dropping the screwdriver to the table so he can throw both hands in the air himself.

Bucky smiles at him, warm and relieved and something that Tony almost wants to call thankful and Tony has to drop his chin because he can’t deal with that face.

Moving his head so suddenly kind of makes the room spin, and Bucky ends up having to carry him to the medical wing. Bucky also lectures him the whole time, but his hands are so gentle and he stays for the entire thing and Tony finds that he only minds the lectures a little.

Tony wakes up from a nap he definitely hadn’t intended to take, still sprawled out on the couch in the common room with Bucky’s fingers still running through his hair. He has no idea how much time has passed but the TV is off and the windows are dark. He appears to have stolen Sam’s blanket, at some point.

He twists his head, still resting on Bucky’s thigh, to fix Bucky with a baleful look and says “I thought I told you I didn’t need a nap.”

“‘S not like I made you fall asleep,” Bucky says, smiling innocently even though he basically did, with his stupid magic hands. Then Bucky’s grin turns into a smirk, voice low as he adds “but don’t you feel better now?”

Tony pouts harder, because he does, and Bucky laughs, continues petting his head until Tony falls right back to sleep.

“You do not want me helping you cook,” Tony says with a sputtering laugh, but he steps further into the kitchen anyways, because whatever Bucky is cooking smells amazing. And because it’s Bucky. “I can’t believe you’d ask me to come help you cook. Did JARVIS not tell you how much of a terrible idea that is?”

“Just be good an’ get over here,” Bucky says, and he doesn’t look up from stirring whatever’s in the giant pot but Tony can hear him rolling his eyes.

“I will be no help,” Tony assures him, but steps up to the stove anyways, trying to peek over the rim of the pot. “Is that tomato sauce? Please say yes, and then please don’t let me ruin it.”

Bucky lets out a huff of laughter and turns towards him, wooden spoon outheld, and says “c’mon doll I need a taste tester.” When Tony just blinks at him, Bucky wiggles the spoon a little and says “open up, sweet thing.”

Tony does his best to ignore what that particular choice of words does to him, instead making a big show of checking the spoon for signs of poison or sabotage, humming suspiciously until Bucky gives an impatient huff. Only then does Tony give in, leaning in just a little more to drag his tongue up the flat back of the wooden spoon and then groans happily, because holy shit that is some good sauce. He opens his eyes to tell Bucky so, not sure when they fell closed in the first place, only to find Bucky watching him with an intensity that has Tony’s breath catching in his throat.

“Good?” Bucky asks, like he doesn't already know the answer, and when Tony nods emphatically he grins. “See,” he says, voice suddenly gone low and deep, not looking away from Tony even as he returns to stirring the pot, “you can be good an’ helpful, knew you could babydoll.”

Bucky finally turns back to the stove, just in the nick of time because there’s not a damn thing Tony can do about the warmth spreading across his cheeks, unfurling in his chest. “Yes, very helpful,” Tony says with a dry laugh, “what would you do without me here to lick things?”

Bucky’s eyes flick over to him, lids lowered in a way that is giving Tony ideas, and his lips quirk up and as he says “have to lick things myself I guess, an’ where’s the fun in that?” Tony barks out a startled laugh, face heating, and Bucky grins down at the pot. “Gonna stay and eat with me, right?” He asks pointedly, like he’s just daring Tony to say no.

Tony pretends like he actually has to think about it, making considering noises and dragging his eyes away from the smug curve of Bucky’s lips. “Do I get a treat afterwards?” He asks obnoxiously, giving Bucky a little nudge with his elbow.

“Mmhmm,” Bucky hums, gaze shifting over to him again. Tony can feel his pulse in his fingertips in the best possible way and he has to bite his lip so he won’t start blurting out suggestions. Bucky’s eyes flick down, just for a second, and then he says “go get some plates.”

So they eat dinner, and Bucky demands to know all of Tony’s greatest cooking disasters and yeah he laughs his ass off but he also keeps giving Tony these wide, warm smiles, and Tony finds that he really doesn’t mind. He’d tell Bucky every embarrassing thing he’s ever done if he gets to hear that laugh. And he’s done a lot.

When Tony starts shoving his empty plate across the table, knocking it into Bucky’s obnoxiously, Bucky just laughs and goes to rummage around in the pantry. Which is a foolish move, because now Tony knows his secret sweets stash is in fact somewhere in the pantry. Which is more than anyone else knows.

Bucky returns with a chocolate and peanut butter cookie roughly half the size of Tony’s face, and then watches him eat it with an unfairly intense stare. Bucky barely glances down at his own plate as he devours a second, and then a third helping of food, just watches Tony eat the cookie that he’s starting to suspect Bucky has been saving just for him. Like there’s nothing he’d rather be doing in the world, nothing more interesting than watching Tony make a mess of himself with baked goods, licking smears of chocolate off his fingers.

The heat in Tony’s gut is battling for attention with the warmth in his chest, and he can’t do much more than stare back. He barely even remembers the walk to the elevator after Bucky firmly suggests he should get some sleep once in a while, the weight of Bucky’s eyes on his shoulders all the way down the hallway.

He falls asleep thinking the word ‘ravenous’ and wakes up panting, stuck to his sheets and aching.

Bucky walks into the room, and Tony switches from eating his breakfast like a normal, rational person, to eating it pointedly, fork scraping across his plate, loud chewing, the works.

Bucky just smiles, big and genuine, says “look at you, feedin’ yourself, I’m so proud,” like he really means it. Tony swallows thickly, heart thundering in his chest and an addictive warmth spreading through him. That still doesn’t mean he lets Bucky get away with trying to steal his bacon, though.

And okay yeah, Tony feels a little bad, if he stops to let himself think about it. Feels like a bit of a creep, but only a little. Because it’s not like Bucky knows that every tiny nice thing he says goes straight to Tony’s head. And his heart. And also a little bit to his dick. Just like Bucky doesn’t know that Tony has had a big useless crush on him for like a year now and really, what’s one more secret?

And besides, unless Tony is actually as out-of-touch as some people like to accuse him of being, it almost seems like Bucky is happier too. Like for some reason he actually likes keeping Tony alive and functional, and really, who would Tony be if he took that away? If Bucky gets some sense of accomplishment out of forcing Tony to get three square meals and eight-ish hours of sleep, then who is Tony to deny him?

It’s just one more tiny little secret.

Tony barely manages not to audibly sigh in relief as the reporter who’s been hounding him gets distracted by some kind of commotion over by the catering table and hurries away, lest he miss the story. Tony’s smile doesn’t slip, because he’s a pro, but it’s difficult. Tony loves his mother’s charity, he really does, it’s the only gala he doesn’t have to be convinced to go to, but he really wishes people wouldn’t ruin it by insisting on asking about Howard.

If Tony has to grit his teeth one more time and say that Howard was a ‘great man’ (debatable) or that he ‘always supported Maria in her causes’ (outright lie), then he’s going to snap and do something drastic. Like go raid the entire bar. Or cry.

“You don’t have t’ put up with that,” comes a voice from right beside him, and Tony jumps hard even though he’d know that voice anywhere. Apparently, Tony is even more tense than he’d realized, and the concerned look on Bucky’s face means he’s probably noticed too.

“I’m going to put a bell on you, almost gave me a heart attack,” Tony grumbles, clutching one hand to his chest and hoping like hell that they can just not talk about it.

Bucky hums thoughtfully, then grins and says “Sneakin’ with a bell, sounds like a fun challenge.”

“That is not the point of the bell,” Tony says seriously, pointing at him, and not letting his eyes drag down the line of Bucky’s body, no matter how much he wants to. No matter how good Bucky’s legs look in a well-fitted suit.

“I mean it,” Bucky says, smiling dimming a little, and so much for Tony’s attempts to deflect, “you know you don’t have to put up with that, right?”

“What?” Tony asks blankly, even though he doesn’t know why he bothers, he never gets away with playing dumb. Sure enough, Bucky fixes him with a flat look until Tony sighs and says “Yes, I kind of do.”

“No,” Bucky says, so firm and urgent that Tony is a little taken aback, catching Tony gently by the elbow when he tries to turn, tries to look for a distraction. “Maybe you have to be here, an’ maybe you have to play nice, but you don’t have t’ answer anythin’ you don’t wanna. And you especially don’ have to talk about him.”

Tony doesn’t know what he feels at this point, some mix of frozen and warm and fuzzy, flushed hot while ice runs through his veins, and he kind of can’t believe that Bucky has been watching him that closely-

“I don’t?” He asks and hates how weak his voice comes out, how unsure, but he’s been talking up Howard at these stupid things for as long as he can remember, it’s second nature, and no one has ever told him that he doesn’t have to in his his entire life-

“No, Tony,” Bucky says and his voice has gone soft too, rough and a little sad and he smiles crookedly as he adds “jus’ tell ‘em to fuck off if they keep tryin’.”

“Well I definitely can’t do that,” Tony huffs. Bucky’s fingers are still holding him so gently, thumb dragging over the inside of his elbow, making Tony shiver just as much as holding him standing.

“You’ll figure it out,” Bucky says, smiling a little wider again and tapping his thumb against Tony’s pulse through his sleeve, “you got that way with words, sweet talker, ‘m sure you’ll come up with somethin’.”

“You’re the sweet talker,” Tony grumbles, and Bucky laughs softly.

Not even half an hour later the same damn reporter corners him as he steps off the stage after his speech, asking the same damn questions, and Tony hesitates. Then he decides fuck it, throws out all his prepared responses, slaps on his sharpest smile and bites out “I’m not going to talk about that anymore.”

The reporter actually looks a little thrown for a second, then visibly steels his nerve and says “People just want to know what it was like growing up with-“

“No,” Tony says, smiling wider, sharper, “I’ve already answered that question what must be a million times by now, how about you go dig up one of those stories and republish that. I’m sure it’ll be better written that way, anyways.” The reporter is still sputtering as Tony turns and walks away, slips into a side hallway to pat himself on the back and maybe panic-breathe, just a little.

He’s barely slumped back against the wall before Bucky is right in front of him, breathing out “Oh, Tony.”

“Seriously, a bell, a big one,” Tony repeats, smile only a little wobbly as he drags his eyes up to meet Bucky’s, and then can’t help blurting out “Did I- was that... okay?”

“Perfect,” Bucky says instantly, jolting forward and then stopping, like he’d been about to pull Tony in for a hug before thinking better of it. Which is too bad, Tony could really go for a hug right now but it’s almost just as good when Bucky says “That was perfect, you did so good sweet thing, don’t you feel better now?”

“Yes,” Tony says with a heavy sigh, not even realizing how much he means it until all the tension bleeds out of him and before he can stop himself Tony is leaning forward to thump his forehead against Bucky’s chest, letting his eyes fall closed and breathing in the comforting, earthy smell of Bucky’s cologne. He just can’t take the warmth and open pride in Bucky’s gaze anymore, not without running the very serious risk of turning to a useless puddle of mush.

Of course, then Bucky’s right hand lands warm and gentle on the back of Tony’s head, wide palm cradling his skull easily and thumb stroking down the line of his neck, the other hand curled around Tony’s shoulder and pulling him a little closer. “So proud’a you, Tony, did so good, knew you could do it doll,” Bucky says softly, speaking directly against the top of Tony’s head while his fingers slide through Tony’s hair.

“I’ve told off reporters before,” Tony huffs, even though he doesn’t know why he bothers, Bucky apparently sees right through him, “I do it all the time. Did you miss when I snapped at one of them during that last press conference and Steve gave me disappointed face?”

Bucky just hums, taps his metal fingers against the curve of Tony’s shoulder blade. “Yeah,” he finally says, voice barely more than a breath, “For everyone else. Always makin’ sure the rest of th’ team never has to talk about anythin’ they don’t want to the press. Never cut yourself any slack like that, though, do ya?”

Tony’s breath catches in his throat, and how does Bucky do that?! He has no response, no idea what to say, absolutely never expected to be called out. Not on this. When Bucky makes a soft, expectant sound, like he’s actually waiting for an answer, all Tony can do is shake his head a little, careful not to accidentally dislodge Bucky’s hold on him.

“You’re worth it too, ya hear me?” Bucky asks, his hold on Tony tightening ever so slightly, one finger tap tap tapping at the back of Tony’s head until Tony finally huffs and nods. “Good boy,” Bucky says, still so softly, and if he notices the way Tony all but melts against him, at least he doesn’t say anything about it.

Tony shuffles down the hallway, frowning at his phone and glancing up every now and then just to make sure he’s not about to run into anyone. Considering he lives in a tower full of spies, soldiers, and other assorted superheroes, they all have surprisingly terrible situational awareness sometimes. And sure, it’s heartwarming that they can all let their guard down, at least a little, but he’s also a little tired of people tripping and breaking things because Thor likes to nap in hallways.

When he glances up and spots Bucky in his path, he steps to the side and barely has time for a “Hey frosty, Clint was looking for you. He was also holding a water gun, so I’d be careful.” After a quick grin Tony returns to squinting at his phone, and therefore does not see it coming at all when Bucky gently grabs his elbow and halts him in his tracks.

“Hey, you okay?” Bucky asks, an adorable little concerned wrinkle between his eyebrows. He also lets go of Tony’s arm, which is a shame.

Tony blinks, then glances down at himself. He’s not sure what gave Bucky the impression that something is wrong, if it was the stained and hole-littered jeans, the wrinkled shirt, or the fact that Tony apparently lost one of his socks somewhere. Huh.

“Yeah, fine,” Tony says and waves his phone a little, “just got a lot to do. You know how it is. Every day I receive emails, so on and so forth.”

“You got a headache?” Bucky asks, randomly, even though Tony does. It’s pounding right behind his eyes, and all along his temple, and throbbing in time with his heartbeat. All in all, it’s a high quality headache.

“No,” Tony says anyways, because he has things to do, and Bucky is making ‘go take a nap’ face at him. It’s a very specific face. “My head feels awesome, better than awesome, I gotta get down to the lab, so, you better be getting on with your water gun fight. Watch the furniture.”

Tony tries to step away again, before Bucky can guilt him into not working, but Bucky snaps a hand out and catches him by the belt loop on his hip. It’s everything Tony can do not to swallow his tongue.

“What you gotta do is take a break,” Bucky says firmly, and Tony is opening his mouth to ask if that means he’s invited to the water gun fight, but Bucky apparently sees it coming and cuts him off. “Go take a nap, Tony.”

“I don’t want a nap,” Tony whines petulantly and braces his bare foot against the ground, leans against Bucky’s hold and trusts him not to actually let go as Tony pouts at him.

“Then at least go lay down,” Bucky says, heartlessly. When Tony just pouts at him harder Bucky rolls his eyes with a soft huff and says “Do it an’ I’ll bring you somethin’ to drink.” When Tony opens his mouth Bucky immediately adds “not coffee.”

Tony gasps in horror, but Bucky remains unswayed. “Fine, hot chocolate,” he demands, leaning a little harder despite the way his worn jeans are gaping at the waist and more than likely to rip at any second.

Bucky considers, eyes dragging down Tony’s chest and probably counting the grease stains on his shirt, and finally says “Water an’ then hot chocolate.”

“Fine, I will go to my room and await my beverage delivery,” Tony says, already running mental calculations on exactly how long he has to run to the lab and grab his tablet then stash it somewhere before Bucky catches him.

“You goin’ straight to your room?” Bucky asks, one eyebrow raised, and damnit how does he do that?! Tony is seriously considering

Tony groans, then gives what Rhodey has assured him is the worst salute humanly possible as he says “Sir yes sir, Sargent Tastee-Freeze.”

Bucky grins with lots of teeth and tugs at Tony’s belt loop to pull him back upright again as he says “Good boy.”

Tony goes straight to his room, and Bucky’s smile when he finds Tony already curled up under a blanket with the lights in the room down low is totally worth it. The amazing hot chocolate is just a bonus.

“Tony,” Bucky says, voice frantic, “Tony, you gotta stay awake.”

“Hurts,” Tony complains, just in case Bucky hasn’t noticed that he’s bleeding out here. And he’s supposed to be the observant one.

“I know, I know it does,” Bucky says and his fingers are shaking as he brushes Tony’s hair off of his forehead. His other hand is incredibly steady as it presses a crumpled jacket to Tony’s bleeding stomach, making him groan pitifully. “You gotta stay awake for me, doll, jus’ stay awake.”

“Wanna sleep,” Tony says petulantly, because that sounds way better than being awake for all this agony. His eyelids are already fluttering shut and he’s not worried about the asshole that shot him, if Bucky is here then there’s nothing to worry about. Tony is pretty sure Natasha was around here too somewhere, but it’s surprisingly hard to remember.

“No no no, wake up,” Bucky says, voice cracking, and maybe there is something to worry about, if Bucky sounds that upset. Tony wonders what it is. “C’mon, wake up for me sweetheart, be a good boy and just- jus’ open your eyes.”

“Good?” Tony slurs out and cracks one eye open, just enough to see that Bucky’s face is wet and if Tony didn’t know better he’d think Bucky was crying.

“Yeah Tony,” Bucky says with a smile that’s entirely too shaky, sounding entirely too desperate, “jus’ be good and stay awake for me, give you all the fuckin’ cookies you want, give you anything.” His hand is on Tony’s cheek again, fingers so warm, and when Tony’s eyes start to fall closed again Bucky gives him the slightest of shakes and says “Hey, hey, c’mon doll, don’t you got some demands for me? Gotta stay awake to tell me what you want, baby.”

“Wanna be good,” Tony manages to croak out, struggling to get his stubborn eyes to open and actually focus. He almost wishes he hadn’t, because there’s something horribly stricken about Bucky’s expression, something startled and scared and it drags a pained noise out of Tony’s chest that has nothing to do with the blood pooling below him.

“Yeah?” Bucky asks after a pause and he’s shaking all over now, everywhere but his metal hand still pressed firm and agonizing over the bullet holes in Tony’s stomach. “Wanna be good for me, you gotta stay awake until the paramedics get here, can you do that sweet thing?”

“Gross, hate them,” Tony says, and Bucky’s laugh sounds more like a choked sob. Tony flails one hand up until he can grab weakly at Bucky’s shirt. “‘Kay, stayin’ awake,” he says and decides to not mention that he can taste blood with each word, instead tugging at Bucky’s shirt a little as he slurs out “just cuz y’re a worrier.”

“That’s real sweet of ya, darlin’,” Bucky says and at least his laugh sounds a little less ragged, a little less like it’s being dragged out of him.

Everything goes a little fuzzy after that, but Tony doesn’t let go of his grip on Bucky’s shirt until the EMTs start heartlessly cutting into his nice suit. Bucky doesn’t let go for even longer.

Tony did something wrong. He doesn't know what, but he knows he did something. Which is just, Classic Tony.

Except he does know, he knows exactly what he did and the knowledge sits in his stomach like a weight. He made it weird. He hasn't seen Bucky since he woke up in the hospital. Not really. Because Tony made it weird.

He’s not even sure what he did, exactly, except possibly everything. He’s got this huge sad crush on Bucky, sure, but he’s had that for ages now, and Tony is dealing with it. He’s dealing with it fine. And okay sure, maybe Tony has been acting like a bit of a creep about it, lately, getting all warm and fuzzy and tingly anytime Bucky does something nice for him. Which Bucky does all the time, because he’s a nice person.

And now Tony has scared him off, somehow, between bleeding out mid-press conference and being discharged from the hospital. Painkiller-Tony probably said something to give himself away, that loopy bastard has no filter.

But Tony tells himself it’s fine. It’s fine. Maybe he’ll finally get over this stupid, useless crush now. It’s not like he feels cold and lonely without Bucky’s constant hovering, or anything. It’s not like the fact that Bucky will barely look at him hurts more than the multiple lines of stitches in his stomach, or anything.

It’s fine.

He shuffles slow and careful into the kitchen at stupid-o-clock in the morning, after his second (third?) night without sleep, and there’s no super soldier laying in wait to snatch away his coffee. And force feed him an obscene stack of pancakes. And bitch at him for not sleeping enough when he’s technically still recovering from his unintended run-in with multiple bullets.

The best he gets is Natasha telling him he looks like a zombie and throwing an apple at his head, which really just doesn’t have the same charm. Even if she does do it gently, while giving him concerned eyes.

So Tony gets his coffee, takes his apple, goes back to the lab and wakes up later that day with everything aching because he passed out sprawled across a worktable again. His back is sore and he’s hungry and his stitches burn from being hunched over for hours.

But it’s fine. Tony is fine, he’s an adult, he’s been barely-taking-care-of himself for years. It’s fine.

Bucky is still around, is the thing, he still cracks dry jokes at Steve’s expense and hoards all the blankets on movie nights.

He still wanders down to the lab to play with the bots, but it’s not as often. Not that Tony has made charts, or anything, just to prove to himself that it’s not all in his head. He brings down plates of food, also less often, and doesn’t stick around to make sure Tony eats them. Tony never plans to, plans to shove the food away for a proper pout, but after the third time he finds himself finishing off the plate and halfway through texting Bucky about it before realizing better, Tony gives up. He switches to just eating as soon as Bucky leaves the lab, and he doesn’t even have to lie to himself that it’s just a different form of pouting.

When Tony tracks him down to hand over some new body armor, Bucky still thanks him with entirely too much sincerity, like he still doesn’t realize that this is just what Tony does. It still makes Tony’s heart lurch and his stomach swoop and his face heat, but when Tony goes to run away because he still doesn’t know how to deal with that, Bucky doesn’t stop him.

Bucky still watches his back in every fight and suggests weird sci-fi books, still leaves leftovers with Tony’s name on them in the fridge just like he always has. Tony still has his friend, is the thing, and when he tells himself that’s all he’d ever expected it’s not even a lie.

JARVIS is the one to gently remind him when it’s time to have his stitches removed, Tony is nearly overwhelmed by the sudden urge to cry. Because he can’t remember the last time Bucky wasn’t the one dragging him down to medical for boring things like follow up appointments, bribing him with baked goods and smiling all the while.

Tony is tempted to just remove them himself, he’s so tempted. Because it’s not like he can’t, it’s what he used to do before Bucky started his whole ‘aggressive mother hen’ routine. He even has the tiny scissors in hand, sterilized and everything, but he can’t stop picturing that sad little twist to Bucky’s lips, the way his eyes go wet and pained when he catches Tony doing his own first aid. And Tony can’t even lie to himself that Bucky doesn’t care anymore, because they’re still friends, it’s not like Tony can exactly blame him for needing space now that he almost definitely knows Tony has feelings.

Eventually Tony throws down the scissors so aggressively that DUM-E makes concerned beeping noises at him, and he definitely gets some weird looks when he stomps into medical grumpy and painfully alone. No one asks any questions about it though, about the sudden Bucky-shaped hole in his side, and Tony wonders just how miserable he must look.

He nearly runs straight into Bucky in the hallway at something-past-midnight, and it’s all Tony can do to not spill his extra large mug of coffee all over both of them.

“You give me one more heart attack and I’m actually putting that bell on you,” Tony threatens, clutching his mug close to his chest even though odds are pretty good Bucky isn’t going to try and take it from him anymore.

Sure enough, Bucky only makes sad-eyes at his coffee for about two seconds, then drags his eyes up to Tony’s face and says “Just make sure they sound extra Christmas-y, to fit with my whole ‘winter’ vibe.”

Tony laughs and tells himself that this is fine. He still has a friend, still gets to enjoy Bucky’s weird sense of humor, still gets to see him around in the common rooms and that’s plenty, it’s fine. He almost manages to believe it. “Christmas anti-stealth bells, your wish is my command,” Tony says, nodding seriously. And then he raises his coffee to his lips and takes an obnoxiously loud sip, doesn’t know why he does it except that he absolutely does, stupidly trying to bait Bucky into snatching it away from him, insisting Tony take it easy, get some sleep some time this week, something.

All Bucky does is make sadder-eyes at him, which is not what Tony had been going for now he feels terrible. Bucky opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, then shuts it again, and honestly that’s worse than the way Tony’s stomach still throbs dully anytime he laughs, it’s an aching hurt that settles deep in his chest and makes it hard to breathe.

“Well, I better get on it,” Tony says and takes a shuffling step back because he doesn't know what else to do, he doesn’t know how to fix this. He’s tried to stop having this big stupid crush, fuck has he tried, but he can’t. It just gets worse and Tony is starting to think he’s never getting over it, just one more chronic ache he’ll never shake.

Tony needs to go, he needs to get out of here and go put himself back together so he can stop doing this to himself. But when he turns too quickly it sends a sharp pain lancing through his gut and Tony can’t quite stop the hiss that slips out of him. He doesn’t stop moving though, just pushes through and keeps his steps as carefully measured as he can, even when Bucky makes a soft, wounded noise that sounds like he’s trying to swallow it down.

Bucky doesn’t actually say anything though, and soon enough Tony is alone in his room holding a mug of coffee he’s just now realizing he doesn’t even want. He dumps it out in the sink, crawls into bed for another good pout and ends up falling asleep for eight hours.

So Tony keeps feeding himself and getting a good night’s sleep every so often. He even waits until he’s officially cleared by the doctors to start demanding to be let back into the field and he drinks the occasional glass of water. He keeps doing all those things even after he stops hoping Bucky will ruffle his hair and call him a ‘good boy’ in that tone that’s somehow the perfect mix of fond and amused and bossy and maybe just a little condescending.

Because they’re still friends, and Tony doesn’t want to ruin that too. He doesn't want to keep making Bucky make sad-eyes at him across the lab when he catches Tony chewing on coffee beans to keep himself awake, holding a half-melted ice pack to his face and squinting at his screens.

So maybe Tony has a big sad crush, and maybe Bucky figured that out somehow. Probably the fact that Tony got inappropriately tingly when Bucky treated him like a particularly stupid house pet, because Bucky has completely stopped. Tony is not letting himself think about how much he misses it, because that’s not the point.

The point is that they’re friends, and if it makes Bucky sad when his friends can’t take basic human care of themselves, well the least Tony can do is try to do better. It was just a lot easier when he could look forward to Bucky patting his head and calling him ‘good’ in that way that sent heat spiraling through Tony’s entire body.

But whatever. Tony manages.

“We should order pizza,” Tony announces, marching into the common room and nearly shouting to be heard over what appears to be half the team heckling a baking show.

“Are you trying to start another screaming match?” Steve demands, giving him a horrified look, “this tower cannot agree on pizza toppings, we’ve learned this.”

“I’ll just order everyone their own, no screaming, no problem,” Tony says dismissively, “I just finished with an all-day meeting that could have lasted an hour tops and I’m starving and the only thing that can make it better is pizza.” He ends his declaration with a whine and a little stomp of his foot, and tells himself that the sound of Bucky’s quiet laugh doesn’t make his chest warm. He needs to get better at lying to himself.

“But then I still have to see the abomination Clint calls a pizza, and how am I supposed to eat like that?” Sam demands, shooting a look at Clint who’s already half on-top of his arm chair and drawing in a huge breath to no doubt shout his rebuttal.

“I’m still going to do it,” Tony says gleefully, drowned out by the onslaught of yelling and already pulling out his phone.

“Are you happy now?” Steve demands as Sam and Clint start whipping throw pillows across the room at each other while Bucky laughs, egging them on and tossing Clint more ammo.

And yeah, Tony kind of is.

Someone walks into the workshop and Tony’s head snaps up, but it’s just Clint. Tony is not disappointed.

“Stop giving me that look,” Clint says, pointing one finger at Tony’s face. “Bucky wanted me to come down here and remind you to go to medical. He also told me not to tell you he told me to, but I’ve conveniently forgotten that part.”

“Convenient for who?” Tony asks with a huff of laughter, and ignores the way it makes his stupid heart feel all warm that Bucky still worries, at least, even if he doesn’t actually want to come down and face Tony’s crush himself. It’s still something.

Clint ignores him in favor of poking at the things scattered across the worktables, never mind that most of it is weaponry of some kind, and when Tony throws a screwdriver at him Clint spins around with an unimpressed look. “What’s up with you two, anyways? You’re being weirder than normal,” he demands, throwing the screwdriver back.

“Go tell him I’ve already been,” Tony says, barely managing to catch the tool before it hits him in the face, “my stomach is fine, they just taped up my ribs and gave me a tetanus shot. Tetanus!” And no, for the record, Tony had not spent the entire time thinking about how Bucky probably would have let Tony hold his hand, if he’d been there.

“Go tell him yourself, you incredible idiot,” Clint says, and then starts poking at dangerous things until Tony kicks him out of the lab.

“Why are you up before noon and looking like you actually slept?” Video-call-Rhodey demands, narrowing his eyes suspiciously, “who are you and what have you done with Tony?”

“Fuck you, platypus,” Tony says pleasantly, “that’s hurtful, I know how to adult.” The look Rhodey fixes him with in return is so unimpressed Tony’s can feel it in his soul, even through the screen.

“I have known you for years,” Rhodey says slowly, “and I can emphatically say that no, you do not, and- Are you drinking water?”

“What? No,” Tony says, lowering his glass of water back out of frame. Rhodey continues to stare him down, and Tony just stares back, because there is no way they’re getting into this. Tony wouldn’t even know where to start, at this point.

He passes Bucky as he turns the corner towards the elevator, and Tony really wishes he had the time to ask what Bucky is grinning so wide about. As it is he has a meeting with Pepper to get to and best-friend-questions to avoid.

“You know what Steve,” Tony snaps, because he can’t take it anymore. He’s exhausted, he’s sore, he has a ton of work to do and he’s tired of being yelled at for shit that’s not his fault. He’s also tired of the sad look Bucky is giving him, like he thinks Tony can’t see him, like he thinks Tony doesn’t know that he doesn’t deserve this.

Steve actually falters, words trailing off as he blinks at Tony because yeah, Tony usually calls him ‘Rogers’ when he’s pissed, or at least ‘Cap’. And yeah it’s one of Tony’s favorite ways of distancing himself, what of it? He can feel Bucky’s stare like a physical weight on his chest, he’s frustrated enough with himself as it is, and Tony doesn’t want distance.

“I’m not a magician, okay,” Tony grits out, doesn’t snap it, keeps his voice even and clenches his fists to keep them from shaking, “hacking an encrypted system takes time, and it takes processing power. Processing power that is limited when I’m also using it to pilot the armor, so yeah, I hacked it as quick as I could, and if that’s not good enough then I don’t know what to tell you.”

Steve gapes at him for a second, eyes wide and mouth hanging open and Tony really wishes he could feel better about accomplishing that right now. “Oh,” Steve finally says, and Tony can’t help but notice that the debrief room has suddenly cleared out around them. “I- I didn’t-“

This is usually the part where Tony would jump on that moment of hesitation, tack on a couple barbs to easily push Steve from thrown-off to angry. It’s surprisingly easy, Tony has practically made an art form out of it. Because Tony is so much better at knowing what to do with people when they’re mad at him. But right now, Tony is tired, and he really needs a shower, and he really needs to get down to the lab and figure out how to up the power in the suit, make sure he doesn’t get caught unprepared again.

And yeah, Tony can still feel Bucky staring at him, and Tony doesn’t know how much longer he can stand it without breaking down and doing something ridiculous. Like demanding a hug. Or to have his head patted, or for reassurance that he did okay. And Tony doesn’t get that anymore, never should have had it in the first place, so he just turns and leaves.

Tony has nearly made his escape, and he’s managing to keep it together, right up until he catches sight of Buck’s face. Tony has spent a lot of time cataloging away all of Bucky’s expressions, telling himself the entire time that he’s not a creepy obsessed weirdo, and he’s never seen that face before. Some mix of happy and surprised and proud, and a hundred other things that Tony still hasn’t been able to figure out how to deal with. Seeing it less often apparently doesn’t stop Tony’s heart from lurching dangerously at the sight of that warm smile, doesn’t stop his stomach from working itself into a tight, heated knot.

No one follows after him, and after turning a couple corners blindly Tony finally lets himself slump back against a wall, just for a second. Just to try and catch his breath, try to fight down the warmth rising stubbornly in his chest.

Tony likes doing his test flights of the suits around dusk, when he can help it. He likes watching night fall over the city, likes watching the colors of the sunset give way to the bright lights that come to life in every window.

When he finally heads back for the tower he aims for the roof, figuring he’ll have the suit drop him off and then take itself down to the workshop to start running diagnostics on the new settings without him. It’ll take a while anyways, and Tony hasn’t had dinner yet. And for some reason, all of Tony’s friends seem weirdly invested in his eating habits and are weirdly thrilled when he remembers to do it. Tony is even doing a better job lately of convincing himself there’s not one friend in particular he’s trying to thrill.

Once the armor zips off towards the entrance on the workshop level the roof is dark, and Tony very nearly trips over Bucky on his way to the door. He makes an embarrassing squeaking noise but manages to keep his balance, only wincing a little as his toes throb because fuck what is Bucky’s shin made of?!

“Woah, shit, excellent lurking there, Frosty, truly A+ work,” Tony says, clutching at his chest, and he’s about to re-suggest his whole ‘put a bell on you’ plan when Bucky actually drags his eyes up from the ground to fix on Tony instead.

Bucky looks terrible. Which of course means he’s still one of the most gorgeous people Tony has ever seen, but the dark circles under his eyes hit Tony like a blow to the chest. Bucky’s hair is a mess, lines around his eyes deep and pronounced and he looks tired in a way that seeps straight down into your bones, eats you alive. Tony knows that feeling all too well, but he has no idea what to say in the face of it.

He doesn’t need to ask if Bucky is having a rough couple of days, it’s painfully obvious, and he knows Bucky isn’t going to talk about it if he doesn’t want to. And he very rarely wants to. It would certainly explain why Steve was looking for him yesterday, if Bucky has been hiding out avoiding everyone, which probably means that Bucky has been sitting out here on the roof for who knows how long and will continue sitting out here until he feels like a person again.

The fact that Bucky doesn’t say anything, doesn’t uncurl from his protective huddle against the wall, just stares up at Tony with shadowed eyes, means that he’s definitely not there yet. He barely even twitches when Tony’s stomach growls loudly, just raises one eyebrow slightly even though Tony is pretty sure that was loud enough for people down on the street to hear.

“I’m on my way right now!” Tony defends before Bucky can start making sad face at him, because that is probably the last thing Bucky needs right now, to be worrying that Tony is somehow going to starve to death without constant supervision. Bucky’s lip twitches in the barest hint of a smile, and Tony is absolutely going to count that as a win.

He’s about to leave, head inside and leave Bucky alone to his rooftop creeping, but then something occurs to him. If Bucky has been hiding out away from everyone, it stands to reason that he hasn’t been to the kitchen for food recently. There’s always someone in the kitchen. Tony hesitates for a second, and then decides fuck it. They’re friends, and fair is fair.

“Come on Snowflake,” he says firmly, no room for arguments, and holds out one hand for Bucky to take. “I’ll make you one of my specialties. Do you want a lumpy sandwich, or cold cereal?”

Bucky’s lips twitch ever so slightly further up as he takes Tony’s hand and pulls himself to his feet, and Tony is going to call that a resounding fucking victory.

Bucky loves sci-fi. Even worse, he loves cheesy, horrible sci-fi, and he gets a particular kick out of movies that are so inaccurate they send Bruce and sometimes even Tony into fits of rage.

It’s a serious problem, because Tony loves that Bucky loves shitty sci-fi. It’s hopelessly endearing, and Tony is pretty sure it’s only a matter of time before he full on breaks down crying at the entirely-too-adorable sight of Bucky on the couch amid a mountain of blankets, happily humming along to the Stargate Atlantis theme song. Tony is only human, okay? He’s just trying to head back to the lab with his lunch and there’s only so much he can reasonably be expected to withstand.

It’s also a problem in that Bucky tends to get caught up in binge watching something and forget about things like sleeping, or the ever important feeding his super appetite. Which Tony gets, he really does, he is no stranger to getting wrapped up in something and forgetting everything else, so instead of suggesting Bucky take a break from his marathon at least long enough to get food, Tony just shoves his own plate into Bucky’s lap and leaves his glass of water on the coffee table with a pointed look.

Then he heads back to the kitchen to make another sandwich for himself, waving off Bucky’s stuttered, surprised-sounding thanks and refusing to let himself look back.

It kind of spirals out of control from there.

Tony sticks his head into the gym where, sure enough, Bucky and Steve are still having their stupid push up competition.

“Let’s wrap it up boys, it’s dinner time,” he calls, and then rolls his eyes when they don’t react at all. “Seriously, you’re both impressive, you both win beefiest belle at the ball, you can punch it out later,” Tony adds as he wanders closer, “Let’s go before Thor eats everything and then comes down here to show you both up.”

“Five minutes,” Steve huffs out between push ups, “He’s about to give up.”

“Like hell,” Bucky grumbles and does his next rep one handed so he can swat at Steve. It’s unfairly distracting.

“I’m evicting both of you,” Tony says pleasantly, “Just like I threatened everyone else with eviction until they gave in and agreed to order from that Korean-Mexican fusion place you’re both so obsessed with.”

“What?!” Steve demands, pushing himself upright on his knees to fix Tony with an affronted look, “why didn’t you say that?”

“Ha! I win!” Bucky says, still doing push ups and grinning at Steve smugly.

Steve looks so horribly offended for a second that Tony can’t help snorting in laughter. Then Steve grins wickedly, shoves Bucky over, and makes a break for the door calling “I’m gonna eat all your food, then we’ll see who wins!”

“Still a sore loser,” Bucky says with a sad shake of his head, pushing himself to his feet. A couple strands of loose hair cling to his forehead and fall around his face, his thin shirt clinging to his chest just right, and Tony’s life would be so much easier if he could just not.

Bucky is staring at him, curious tilt to his head, and Tony belatedly remembers to blurt out “Don’t worry Frosted Flakes, I hid your kimchi tacos at the back of the fridge where no one can get to them. Not that I know why anyone would want to.” The wide grin that breaks out across Bucky’s face still makes Tony’s heart thump dangerously, no matter how many times Tony tries to convince himself that it doesn’t, that it won’t next time. It always does.

“Thanks Tony, you’re the best,” Bucky says, all warm and soft and genuine, bumping their shoulders together gently as he heads for the door. Tony trails after him, face flushed and chest warm, and that was totally worth all the trouble of convincing Bruce that Korean-Mexican fusion is not a crime against humanity.

“You need to go lay down,” Tony says for what must be the tenth time since Bucky walked into the lab.

“I’m fine,” Bucky says, again, despite the fact that he is clearly not fine.

Tony waves both hands at Bucky, trying to encompass all of him, the fact that Bucky hasn’t changed or showered since the fight when usually that’s the first thing he does, the way that he’s just kind of standing there letting the bots poke at him instead of chasing them around the lab. “I can hear your spine clicking when you move, and I have normal human ears!” Tony insists.

“No it’s not,” Bucky says, but he’s holding himself suspiciously still. When Tony just stares at him, unimpressed, he adds “it’ll heal.”

“Yeah, if you go lay the fuck down and avoid killing yourself before then,” Tony says, and only barely resists the urge to throw a bolt at him. He’s pretty sure Bucky would just let it hit him in the face right now, and that’s not what Tony is going for. No matter how well it would prove his point.

“No," Bucky says flatly. Tony throws the bolt, and Bucky winces when it bounces off his chest but otherwise refuses to move.

"Then you're going to medical," Tony says, throwing both hands in the air, "I’ll call Steve and he’ll carry you there, don’t think he won’t. He will be delighted to do it."

“I’ll throw ‘im out another window,” Bucky grumbles, and when Tony makes a show of grabbing for his phone Bucky sighs out “fine, fine, I’ll go lay down.”

"Damn straight you will," Tony grumbles under his breath and then blinks in surprise when, instead of heading for the door, maybe back to his room, Bucky slowly makes his way over to the lumpy couch in the corner.

And Tony's not complaining, it absolutely makes sense for Bucky to lay down on the nearest available flat surface, but Tony had really been expecting him to leave. Keep up that friendly distance, and all that. Instead Tony is left just staring dazedly as Bucky lowers him half down onto the couch with a level of care that completely gives away how injured he actually is.

Once Bucky is settled he turns his head where it's propped up on the armrest, only wincing a little, and stares back at Tony. There's something considering in his gaze, and he's probably trying to figure out how long it'll take before Tony gets distracted enough to not notice Bucky making his escape.

After several long seconds of mutual staring, broken only by them both glancing over when DUM-E gets tangled in the blanket he's trying to bring to Bucky and starts beeping in distress, Bucky finally breaks the silence. "Don't I get a cookie?" he asks slowly, innocently, like he has no idea that the reminder sets off an explosion in Tony's chest.

"I already gave you one of my favorite bolts, what more do you want from me?" Tony complains, turning back to his workbench so hopefully Bucky won't notice that his face has no doubt gone bright red.

"Somethin' edible, preferably," Bucky says with a soft laugh that has warmth spreading out from Tony's racing heart and mixing surprisingly well with the sudden influx of butterflies in his stomach.

Tony tells himself that it's fine. They're friends. He's glad that Bucky is comfortable enough to hang out in the lab with him again, making dumb jokes. All Tony has to do is not make it weird. Again. He can totally do that.

He doesn't have any cookies, but Tony does share his terrible energy bars, and when Bucky dares to complain about how terrible they are Tony throws a couple more bolts at him. Injured or not, he can't let that stand.

Eventually Bucky falls asleep, and Tony works as quietly as he can, and it's fine. It’s the closest to fine that Tony has felt in a long time.

Bucky’s nose scrunches up a little in disgust, but he doesn’t say anything. No one else seems to notice, arguing over their exact dinner order like it’s a life or death ordeal. They are all usually armed, in some way, so hell it might be life or death.

Tony slumps a little lower in his armchair, just enough that he can stretch out and kick Bucky lightly in the foot. When Bucky looks over at him Tony gives him an expectant look. When Bucky continues to stare blankly at him Tony does a little ‘go on’ motion with his head, and then kicks Bucky again. Just for good measure.

Bucky’s eyes widen, just a little, and then he blurts out “I hate sushi.” Everyone stops to stare at him, and Tony grins widely.

“What? Since when?” Sam demands, looking personally offended.

“Since always, it’s raw fish,” Bucky replies, throwing a pillow that bounces harmlessly off Thor’s head when Sam ducks. “Just get me some rice or somethin’, ‘s long as it’s cooked,” he adds and easily swats Sam’s return pillow away from him.

Steve immediately starts reading off other options from the menu, and Tony continues grinning all through the rest of the ordering process. He’s a little surprised when he looks over to find Bucky smiling back at him, something small and strangely delicate, and Tony just hopes his face isn’t as warm as it feels, hopes it doesn’t show that he’s melting inside.

Bucky has been giving him this look, lately, and Tony has no idea what it’s supposed to mean. It’s somewhere between surprised and considering, like he’s putting together the pieces of a puzzle he didn’t even know he was looking at. It’s mildly terrifying.

If he didn’t know better, Tony would think Bucky has figured out about his super secret crush, but that can’t be right. Bucky had already figured that out... right? And if that was the case he definitely wouldn’t suddenly be hanging out with Tony more, he’d be running even further away.

Tony is kind of tempted to avoid him, avoid that look entirely, because as long as he doesn’t know what it means it can’t mean anything bad. The problem with that plan, is that Bucky is suddenly everywhere he turns.

He stumbles out of his lab and it’s like Bucky is just laying in wait so he can drag Tony to the kitchen for an impressive lunch spread. And then he hangs out, watches while Tony gorges himself on soup and sandwiches and leftover donuts, and when Tony shoves the last donut towards him Bucky’s thoughtful little smile gets wider.

Tony doesn’t know what to do with that, or what to do with the warmth that lingers in his chest all day, growing something that feels dangerously like hope. Maybe he should give that avoidance plan another shot.

He makes it a full day. Mostly by hiding out in his lab the whole time. When he shuffles out, rubbing at his tired eyes and aching everywhere, Bucky is there before he makes it ten steps out of the elevator onto the common floor.

“What have I told you about sleeping?’ Bucky asks with an exasperated sigh that does not at all take away from the smile tugging at the corners of his lips, both hands coming down on Tony’s shoulders to stop him in his tracks. “And don’t say ‘it’s for the weak’, or I swear...”

Tony hums thoughtfully, then grins up at Bucky, who is standing so very close. If Tony were less sleep deprived he’d probably be more worried about that, more worries about what he’s giving away as he leans into Bucky’s chest ever so slightly. “Must have escaped my mind,” he finally says, grinning wider when Bucky rolls his eyes.

“I believe it was that you need to sleep, Tony,” Bucky says and uses the hands still on his shoulders to spin Tony in place and point him back towards the elevator. He leaves his hands on Tony’s shoulders, which is probably a good thing because Tony is dimly aware of the fact that he’s swaying in place. “Go on, before your zombie face scares Bruce again,” Bucky adds with a soft laugh.

“That was one time,” Tony protests, digging in his heels as Bucky starts pushing him towards the doors, “and I’m hungry.” The last part comes out nearly as a whine, and Tony doesn’t even try to stop it because this is all Bucky’s fault in the first place. Him and his regular meal schedules, and his insisting that Tony follow them.

“Nuh uh, I know how you are,” Bucky says, giving him another little shove towards the elevator, “you’ll go to the kitchen and then you’ll get distracted and I’ll find you five hours later half asleep and having a staring contest with your reflection.”

“Again, that was one time, and I had been up for days,” Tony says with a huff, then squeaks when the heels of his worn sneakers slip against the floor and Bucky’s grip on his shoulders is the only thing that keeps him from falling on his ass.

“Go get ready for bed, doll,” Bucky says and he’s definitely laughing now, “an’ I’ll bring you somethin’ to eat.”

“I want waffles,” Tony demands petulantly and finally stops leaning back against Bucky’s shoving, starts moving towards the elevator instead.

“Waffles, you got it,” Bucky says, all warm and amused, and his hands finally fall away from Tony’s shoulders. There’s a second where Tony starts to shuffle forward, elevator doors already dinging open, and he hears Bucky start to turn back down the hallway, and then Bucky’s hand lands on his head and Tony freezes in his tracks. He’s not even breathing, just holds himself perfectly still as Bucky ruffles his hair.

When Bucky steps away and his footsteps disappear down the hallway Tony is finally able to drag in a ragged breath and start his forward shuffle again. He spends the entire elevator ride thinking it’s a good thing he’s already half asleep, or he’d be really freaking out right now about what this all means.

Tony is slumped down low on his couch and poking at his phone when Bucky turns up with the promised waffles, but it’s totally worth the wait because the waffles are hot and fluffy and covered with the perfect amount of syrup. After Tony eats them all Bucky smiles at him warmly and says ‘good’, and what’s left of Tony’s poor batted soul feels like its been dipped in warm honey.

Tony doesn’t actually remember falling asleep, and he definitely doesn’t remember Bucky carrying him to bed, but he wakes up later curled under the blankets with his socks still on and oh look at that, he’s awake enough to start freaking out again.

Because Tony had been pretty sure he’d ruined everything, given himself away, and now everything is back to normal. Maybe even better. And Tony has no idea what to do. He doesn’t know what’s changed, and he doesn’t know how to not ruin it again.

Tony is heading for the gym, figuring he might as well accomplish something if he’s too angry to sleep at three in the morning. Sure, he’s exhausted, but maybe if he gets some of this energy out he’ll be able to sleep. And it won’t even be the first time someone has found him blissfully passed out on the gym floor in the morning.

He passes Bucky in the hallway, and it’s somehow both a surprise and not surprising at all when Bucky catches him by the forearm and pulls him to a stop. His eyes move over Tony’s face, and at least this is an expression Tony recognizes, it’s Bucky’s ‘figuring out why Tony can’t sleep’ face, and it’s a game Bucky is disturbingly good at. Even if it’s been awhile since he last played, not that Tony is letting himself think about that. Much.

“Hey freezy-pop, just heading to the gym,” Tony says and aims for an easy smile, but Bucky frowns at him and doesn’t let go. Not that Tony is actually trying to get free, that would mean losing the warmth of Bucky’s skin against his.

“People problem or math problem?” Bucky asks with a crooked little grin and Tony really hopes it doesn’t show how much it makes it heart leap that Bucky knows that.

“People problem,” Tony says before he’s even aware he’s going to say it, and then sighs as it feels like something tense inside him starts to unravel. “Huge people problem. The board is trying to slip some shady shit past me again, and I have to wait until morning to yell at them. Because I’m, and I quote, ‘not allowed to wake the old bastards up to yell at them’ any more. But I want to, I’m all riled up now and I want to bite some heads off.”

Bucky’s smile gets a little toothier and his gaze flickers down for just a second before he says “As much as I enjoy watchin’ you bite heads, prob’ly not a good idea. Might give ‘em a heart attack.”

“Which would be a bad thing, because...” Tony says and waves his hand in a ‘go on’ type motion.

“‘Cause then Pepper will kill you with her shoes,” Bucky says, very seriously, and damnit he’s right. Down to the exact threat Pepper had used, and Tony’s heart gives another little lurch.

“And that is a thing I do not want,” Tony recites with a sad little nod, and then grins when Bucky laughs. “So that’s why I’m going down to the gym. I’m going to imagine their wrinkled old faces on the punch bags. I figure hey, punching bag therapy works for Steve.”

“No it doesn’t,” Bucky says with a snort, then gives Tony’s arm a gentle little tug and says “c’mon, come watch Star Trek with me.”

“You think you can just distract me with Star Trek?” Tony demands, “because you can. What episode are you on now? Should I grab popcorn? What am I saying, of course I should grab popcorn, come on I need your hands.”

“How much popcorn you plannin’ on eating?” Bucky asks, but lets Tony start dragging him towards the kitchen with a smug little smile, like he’s getting exactly what he wanted.

Tony’s heart gives another little leap, and apparently this is his life now. If he dies tonight, it won’t be from an anger induced aneurism, it’ll be from choking on his own stupid heart just because Bucky is taking care of him again. Because Bucky is smiling at him all warm and fond and a little awed, like Tony is the one doing something amazing.

“Also, I love it when math problems keep me up, that’s the dream. The metaphorical dream, obviously,” Tony rattles as he drags Bucky along by way of Bucky’s hand still on his arm, just firm enough to not lose his grip, thumb stroking over the inner bend of Tony’s elbow as he lets out an amused hum.

Bucky doesn’t let go even as they settle onto the couch with their own bowls of popcorn, just shifts his grip down to Tony’s wrist instead, tap his finger against the wild flutter of Tony’s pulse in time with the opening theme. Tony shovels more popcorn into his mouth, mocks the questionable science until Bucky starts good-naturedly shoulder checking him, and doesn’t let himself think about the fact that Bucky’s hand on his wrist is leaching all the tension out of his body better than anything else ever has.

And Tony especially doesn’t let himself think about the fact that Bucky is giving him that look again. Like he’s solving some kind of riddle. Or maybe like he’s already solved it, and he’s just waiting for Tony to ask about the answer. But Tony is terrified to ask, because fuck he doesn’t want to be wrong. Even more terrifying, he’s starting to think he might not be.

Tony isn’t sure how Pepper convinced literally all of the Avengers to dress up to the nines and show up for the fanciest and most painful charity gala of the year. She even got Clint into a tux. Tony does know how she convinced him, at least, which was with threats to both his person and his cars. It was very effective.

Tony is still pondering the mystery as he heads for the common room to round up the rest of the unwilling ceremonial social sacrifices, and instead finds only Bucky struggling with his bow tie. “Either I’m late, or everyone else is extremely late,” Tony says and doesn’t even try to hide his wide grin as he watches Bucky nearly strangle himself.

“It’s both,” Bucky grumbles, yanking at the ends of the bow tie so aggressively Tony is a little surprised the poor thing doesn’t tear, “Some of ‘em were here, but then Bruce spilled his tea all over him an’ Clint, an’ Steve laughed so hard he ripped his shirt. So they all went to change. I think Nat left without us.” Bucky drops his hands to his side and scowls at this reflection in the mirror above the bar, at the lopsided bow hanging loose around his neck.

“That’s why she’s Pepper’s favorite,” Tony says, laughing as much at the story as the defeated slump of Bucky’s shoulders as he starts unknotting the bow tie again. Before Tony can think better of it he’s stepping closer and tugging at Bucky’s arm, all wrapped up in soft black fabric that somehow makes his arms look thicker. “Stop, stop, you’re killing the poor thing,” he says as he grabs for the tie with his free hand.

“Good,” Bucky says with a pout that has no right being so adorable on someone so lethal, “I dunno why it’s bein’ so difficult. I can do a tie no problem, but this?” He whips the bow tie off his neck and eagerly shoves it into Tony’s hand as he declares “bow ties are bullshit. Do you have a clip on around here?”

“Bite your tongue, you heathen,” Tony tells him seriously and forces himself to let go of Bucky’s arm, only dragging his fingers along Bucky’s firm bicep a little in the process. Then he takes a deep breath and steps forward a little closer, until they’re pressed practically chest to chest, and says “Here, let me help you with this before you somehow injure yourself with neckwear.”

“Please,” Bucky says with a heavy sigh, his hand brushing over Tony’s hip just for a second before falling to his side. “I swear I’ve tried fifty times now, you’re my only hope. You always clean up so nice an’ I’m just tryin’ not to make a fool of myself.”

Tony tries to ignore what that particular choice of words does to him. Later, he can work himself up into knots over the fact that Bucky thinks he cleans up nice, thinks he always cleans up nice, like Bucky has been thinking it for a while. But that’s for later, for now he just has to focus on getting this bow tie in place so they can all get over to the stupid gala and live through the stupid night. And then he can go back to his stupid panicked pining.

Focusing on the bow tie turns out to be a little difficult though, because all Tony wants to focus on is Bucky standing so incredibly close to him, the way Bucky is looking at him, eyes half lidded and chin tipped up to give Tony better access to his throat. His first attempt looks even worse, too tight and the bow lopsided, and Bucky barks out a laugh.

“Do you actually know what you’re doing?” Bucky demands, play-swatting at Tony’s stomach, “Are you wearing a clip on?”

“You take that back!” Tony squawks, swatting back at him before he starts aggressively undoing the bow tie again. He needs to get it together, because the longer this takes him the longer he’s standing all up in Bucky’s space, and the more of a blushing mess he’s going to become. And if Bucky hasn’t figured him out already, which is something Tony still can’t get a definite, undeniable read on, then Bucky definitely will now.

Especially because Bucky keeps his head tipped back and smiles lazily in a way that has Tony’s stomach clinging up tight as he asks “Are you trying to kill me, is that what’s happening here?”

“Yes dear,” Tony says, sickeningly sweet, and gives an extra hard tug at one end of the tie, “I’m trying to kill you with a bow tie. Slowly.” Bucky doesn’t say anything, but his smirk gets wider and wider and finally Tony huffs out “Turn around, I can’t work like this.”

“Sure, much easier to strangle me from behind,” Bucky says agreeably as he spins in place to face the mirror again, and his reflection fixes Tony with an expectant look.

Before he can talk himself out of it Tony steps forward and up onto his toes, hooks his chin over Bucky’s shoulder to properly see what he’s doing in the mirror, and brings both arms up over Bucky’s shoulders. From this angle it only takes a couple seconds to get the bow tie perfectly centered and secured around Bucky’s neck, just like it only takes a couple seconds for Tony’s pulse to jump up to truly unsafe levels.

“There, told you I know what I’m doing,” he says with a smug grin and then can’t quite seem to pull himself away, can’t seem to break eye contact with Bucky’s reflection.

“Looks perfect, thanks doll,” Bucky says, low and warm, and raises one hand to gently grab Tony’s forearm where it’s still draped over his chest. Like he doesn’t want Tony to pull away.

“So how did Pepper talk you into this?” Tony blurts, which, all things considered, is probably the least damaging thing he could blurt out right about now.

“She pointed out that if the Avengers look good, it helps your company look good,” he says, like that’s any kind of explanation, still staring Tony right in the eye like that’s supposed to mean something.

“That- that’s not- what-,” Tony says, startled, taking an instinctive step back. Bucky doesn’t let go of his arm, just turns back to face him with his mouth already open to protest. “Seriously,” Tony says, cutting him off and feeling a little frantic for reasons he can’t name, doesn’t want to name, “That’s not something you need to worry about, what- why would that-“

“Hey,” Bucky says, soft like Tony is some kind of spooked animal, which, okay, that feels pretty fair right now. When Bucky gives his arm a little tug Tony steps closer, completely helpless against it. Then Bucky’s other hand is on his face, fingertips just barely brushing Tony’s cheek, the line of his throat, and cool metal thumb pressed oh-so-gently beneath Tony’s chin nudging his head up to meet Bucky’s gaze. “Hey,” he says again, “I want t’ make you look good, okay? ‘S the least we can do after all you do to make us look good. ‘Cause I know that can’t be easy.”

Tony just gapes uselessly for a second, breath caught in his chest, and he’s not sure when he grabbed two handfuls of Bucky’s tux jacket, but he doesn’t think he could let go if he tried. Finally he manages to drag in a shaking break and stutter out “w-we?”

Bucky smirks a little wider, taps his thumb against Tony’s chin, and confesses “I may have helped Pepper ‘talk’ some of ‘em into it.”

And Tony is right back to useless gaping, because what the fuck is he supposed to do with that?! Tony has never expected the rest of the team to worry about the effect their Avenging has on SI, that’s his responsibility, his problem to deal with, and he has the growing feeling that Bucky is trying to tell him something here but Tony is too busy trying not to hyperventilate to figure out what the fuck it is-

“I’m about to enter the common room!” Comes a sudden shout from the hallway, and Tony startles so hard that Bucky’s hand still on his arm is the only thing that keeps him from toppling over. “Please no one throw tea at me this time!” The voice continues and oh, that’s Clint. Of course, because they’re waiting for the rest of the team. Who will be here any minute, and Tony should probably get it together already.

“That was your own fault, an’ I think you know it,” Bucky calls back, smiling just a little ruefully as he drops his hands back to his sides. Tony untangles his hands from Bucky’s jacket and has to resist the urge to smooth out the slight wrinkles he’s left in the lapels.

“Now hold on just a minute,” Clint says as he bursts into the room to defend himself, wrinkled suit jacket only half on and waving a finger at Bucky and Tony sees his chance.

Tony runs. Sure, he says he’s going to get Bruce, but it is absolutely just a cowardly flee. He just needs a minute, he just needs to breathe, needs to figure out what the hell he’s supposed to do with all the hope growing wild and unchecked in his lungs.

Tony gets home from a business trip and he honestly has no idea what time it is. He doesn’t even know what day it is, the only things he knows are that he’s jet lagged as all hell, and that he just wants to sleep.

When he gets to the penthouse there’s takeout from his favorite Italian place waiting on the table, still warm. There’s also a note that says ‘be a good boy and eat before you pass out for 12 hours’. It’s not signed, but at this point it really doesn't need to be.

He honestly doesn’t know what he’s expecting at this point, when he send a photo of the empty containers to Bucky with the caption ‘I want a cookie when I wake up.’

What Tony gets is an almost immediate response in the form of a picture of one of those chocolate-and-peanut-butter monstrosities that he loves, followed by a text that says ‘see you in 13 hours sweet thing’.

Tony wakes up almost exactly thirteen hours later, and he’s so far past wondering how Bucky does that. He’s also so far past his ‘avoid Bucky’ plan, all he wants to do is go find Bucky, get his cookie, and maybe even get the feeling of Bucky’s fingers ruffling his hair again.

So he does.

He’s heading for the elevator to leave for a press conference when Bucky and Natasha suddenly appear in his way, arms crossed and matching terrifying assassin glowers on their faces.

“Seriously, bells,” Tony says, clutching at his chest with the hand not clutching his to-go cup, “bells for everybody, I can’t live like this. I have a heart condition.”

They don’t laugh, but it’s not the usual ‘Tony please don’t joke about your heart condition’ not-laughing, and Tony is instantly on high alert, because something is going on here and he has a feeling he’s not going to like it.

The feeling only gets stronger when Bucky actually hesitates before slowly saying “I know you already talked t’ Pepper about this-“

“No,” Tony says instantly and he can’t believe he ever thought it was kind of sweet that Bucky talks to Pepper, that was clearly going to come back to bite him in the ass some day. Sure enough Natasha pulls out the very same body armor shirt Pepper had been waving at him this morning and Tony groans out “no.”

“You’re wearing the armor,” Natasha says flatly, and it’s completely unsurprising that she’s the one playing bad cop here.

“I am not wearing the armor,” Tony returns, just as flat, “because why would I? It’s a press conference, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“You could get shot again,” Bucky bursts out and his face is doing something truly fascinating, like he’s cycling through emotions too quickly for any of them to properly settle.

Tony can’t help rolling his eyes a little, because are they still on that? “What’re the odds that’ll happen again?” he says dismissively, “Smart assassins never try the same move twice, you know that frosty.”

Bucky’s face twitches harder and okay, apparently they are not yet to the point of joking about Tony’s recent gunshot wounds. Noted. “If you don’t wear the armor? Odds’re pretty damn high,” he growls out and yep, he’s even got his angry-eyebrows on. That’s usually reserved for Steve-levels of stupidity.

“You made this, it's the same material you use for all our gear,” Natasha points out, and okay, maybe she’s not ‘bad cop’ so much as ‘rational cop’. She holds the armor out to him, one eyebrow raised, and demands “are you saying it’s not good enough?”

“That is not what I’m saying, and I think you know it,” Tony says, narrowing his eyes because oh, that’s a low blow, how dare she imply he’d put his team in anything but the best. Her challenging smirk only gets wider, so Tony sniffs and drags his free hand over his chest as he says “I just don’t want to ruin the lines of my suit.”

“It’s the size of an undershirt, your figure will be fine,” Natasha says, but her lips twitch ever so slightly upwards.

Bucky remains staunchly unamused. “Yeah, I’m just gonna put the armor on you myself,” he says with a decisive nod, and Natasha gleefully hands it over.

“I’ll throw my coffee on you,” Tony warns, holding it up like a shield and taking a step back, “it won’t accomplish much, but then you’ll have to listen to me bitch about how I don’t have my coffee anymore. I might even cry.” Bucky keeps advancing on him, armor in hand and a determined look in his eye, so Tony pretends to fumble with the lid of his cup and warns “I’m talking ugly crying here, Bucky-bear, you’ve seen me without my coffee, it’ll be embarrassing for everyone, and-“

"Tony," Bucky snaps, standing right in front of him now, voice low and rough and cracking ever so slightly, "be a good boy and wear the damn armor!”

Tony's stupid heart trips all over itself. Natasha is somehow suddenly all the way down the hall, pointedly ignoring them while sipping Tony’s coffee, and when did she even steal that, and she is very clearly blocking Tony’s escape route. Not that Tony could actually flee right now if he wanted to, he’s much too busy just trying to stay standing under the force of the hot flush that rushes over him, stomach clenching hard and blood roaring in his ears. Tony can’t find the air to reply, can only stare, and Bucky’s face crumples a little further.

“Please, doll? I gotta know you’re safe, I can’t-'' Bucky cuts himself off, clenching his jaw, and Tony feels some confusing mix of horrified and elated. Because of course he feels terrible that he’s the reason for the terrified, pleading look in Bucky’s eyes, the reason Bucky’s right hand trembles slightly as he gives the body armor held between them a little shake. But on the other hand, Tony is the one who made Bucky look like that, cracked open and vulnerable, Tony did that. And oh, he knows that Bucky is letting it show, for him, it’s a gift that he hears the way Bucky’s breath hitches as he pleads “Just- jus’ do this for me? Be good and wear th’ damn armor so I can feel like you’re safe, will you do that?”

Fuck, Tony is pretty sure he’s going to die, he’s pretty sure the entire tower can hear the way his heart is racing in his chest, He has no idea how he’s supposed to respond to that, because all he really wants to do is take that single step it would require to bury his face in Bucky’s chest. But Tony knows he has to say something, anything, Bucky is still staring at him like he’s waiting for an answer, and it nearly knocks him off his feet all over again when he realizes Bucky has been waiting for an answer from him for a while now.

"O-okay," Tony finally manages, voice weak around the way his heart is lodged somewhere in this throat and already shrugging off his jacket so he can just take the stupid god damn armor.

"Yeah?" Bucky asks, voice pitched low, gaze heavy, so much in that simple question. It’s so new and so familiar and Tony is already nodding because oh fuck yes, anything Bucky is offering, anything he wants, yes.

Tony has to swallow thickly a couple times before he can actually say “Yeah, I- I can do that. Wearing the armor, being safe.” Being good, he doesn’t say, but Bucky’s eyes darken like he heard it anyways. Once Tony has finished tugging off his jacket and tie Bucky takes them from his shaking hands, and Tony can only manage a vague huff of protest as Bucky carelessly drapes them over his own shoulder and makes an impatient gesture with his free hand.

And here’s the thing, Tony is not generally what people would call ‘shy’. He left his shame far behind him about a decade or two ago and never looked back. But it’s Bucky, and he just keeps staring as Tony starts fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, and Tony has a terrible feeling the flush on his face is spreading down his neck. He’s more or less gotten used to the scars that litter his torso, his teammates have all seen them and on a good day Tony even forgets they exist. He’s still getting used to the three new freshly-healed bullet holes scattered across his stomach, so of course that’s right where Bucky’s eyes settle and it’s all Tony can do not to fidget, not to snatch his shirt back out of Bucky’s hand.

Bucky’s fingers are warm as they trace over the shiny new skin, ticklishly light and unbearably gentle. “Jus’ wanna feel like I’m protectin’ you,” he says, voice barely more than a sigh, and Tony wants to protest that it’s not his fault but he can’t find the air. Instead all he can do is nod, scared to breathe too hard in case it dislodges Bucky’s fingers from tracing the edges of each slightly raised scar. Tony can’t help the soft noise he makes when Bucky’s hand falls back to his side, already mourning the loss of contact, and Bucky smirks just a little as he says “Arms up, babydoll.”

Tony definitely hears Natasha snort, somewhere down the hallway, but it’s pretty low on the scale of her ‘insulting snorts’ and Tony really doesn’t care right now. He’s too busy throwing his arms up so quickly that it’s a miracle he doesn’t smack Bucky in the face or dislocate his shoulder or something equally ridiculous. Bucky smirks a little wider but doesn’t say anything, just carefully slips the deceptively thin body armor onto Tony’s arms and then gently lowers it down over his head.

Bucky makes sure the armor is pulled all the way down, big hands running over Tony’s hips and the small of his back, and then hands back Tony’s shirt. “There y’ go, nice and safe for me,” Bucky says almost absently as he fixes Tony’s hair and Tony is mostly still just marveling at the open relief in Bucky’s eyes.

“You’re only paranoid because I’m an average squishy human,” Tony tries to accuse, mostly to distract from the way his hands are shaking as he does up his buttons, but it comes out wobbly because even he doesn't believe that anymore.

Bucky’s lips quirk up like he knows Tony doesn’t really think that, but he still says “Nah, I worry cuz its you,” voice soft, like he needs to be sure that Tony knows. His eyes are dark as he watches Tony settle the knot of his tie against the hollow of his throat, and Tony’s hands are shaking so badly that Bucky has to help him get his jacket back in place. “Didn’t even ruin th’ lines of your suit,” he adds with a smug little grin, running both wide palms down Tony’s chest, fingers spread wide, and there’s no way he can’t feel the way Tony’s heart is trying to beat straight out of his chest.

“Lucky for you,” Tony says, voice equally soft, and when Bucky’s hands fall away he drags in a ragged breath.

“Lucky me,” Bucky repeats absently, like he’s talking about something else entirely, and then leans forward. His grip is firm but gentle as he cups the back of Tony’s head with one hand, his lips are dry and soft against Tony’s temple, and Tony freezes up all over again. “Thank you, Tony,” he whispers, lips moving against Tony’s skin and sending shivers down his spine, “always so good for me.”

Tony makes a sound that he refuses to categorize as a whimper, and Bucky pulls away smiling amused and warm and amazed. When Tony steps onto the elevator he’s still trying to catch his breath, but his hands are steady.

“You should date me,” Tony blurts out that night, because he can’t not, anymore. Because he’d smiled like a loon all the way through the press conference, face still warm, and at the end Pepper had asked him if he had a concussion, half serious and half knowingly smug. Because the warm flutter in his chest still hasn’t faded. Because Bucky has been giving him that look, and Tony thinks he’s finally figured it out.

Bucky just blinks at him for a second, and okay yeah, maybe Tony could have picked a slightly better place than the middle of the kitchen. At one in the morning. When they’re both in worn pajamas, odds are unfortunately pretty good that Tony has the remains of his PB&J sandwich smeared around his mouth.

He probably could have picked some better words too, so Tony scrambles desperately for some and all he comes up with is “Or, I should date you. We should date each other. No, I mean- yes, but- fuck-“

“Yeah,” Bucky says, cutting him off and still blinking at him like he’s vaguely dazed. “Yeah, we- us. Dating. Yes. Okay.”

Tony blinks back at him, because that sounded a lot like Bucky agreeing to date him, but it also sounds a lot like he just broke Bucky’s brain. “Are you sure?” Tony has to ask, shuffling on his feet a little, “Because-“

“What- yes,” Bucky says, surprisingly vehement, lurching up from the stool he’s been sitting on. Tony dares to let a wide smile start spreading across his face. Still-

“I’ll be a good boyfriend,” he offers helpfully, and really wishes he could sound more sure of that. He’s damn sure going to do his best.

Bucky is up and across the kitchen in an instant, taking Tony’s face in his big, deadly, gentle hands and breathing out “Tony.” He’s moved from looking dazed to looking something almost like awed and he says “Tony, doll, you are already so good to me, I just want you.”

Tony shudders all over and he’s not sure when his hands landed on Bucky’s waist but he’s holding on for dear life. “Bucky,” he sighs, and then, because he’s weak, he begs “Say it again.”

And oh, Tony just knew that Bucky knew what he was doing, and he gets his proof because instantly Bucky tightens his grip, drags his fingers along the hollows behind Tony’s ears. “Gonna be my good boy, yeah?” he asks, breath hot against Tony’s lips, eyes dark and intent, smirk to die for.

“Oh,” Tony gasps and when he shivers Bucky just holds him tighter, pulls him closer, until Tony’s eyes fall closed and he’s clinging helplessly to the broad muscle of Bucky’s back. “I- oh,” he gasps again when Bucky’s thumbs trace along his cheekbones, barely catching his eyelashes, and Bucky’s answering laugh is everything. It’s happy and amazed in a way that makes Tony's chest warm and fluttery, dark and just a little condescending in a way that makes his guy tighten up in heated want.

“I see you, Tony,” Bucky says, low and rough and insistent, “I see everything you do for us, for everyone.” His lips trace the line of Tony’s brow in soft, feather-light kisses, and his voice is barely more than a breath when he adds “For me. Gonna be good an’ let me take care of you back?”

Tony is caught between the urge to nod frantically and the need to stay exactly where he is, Bucky’s hands cupping his face like the most precious thing he’s ever held, so instead he croaks out “Yeah, I- I can- fuck I want that.” Tony cracks his eyes open again, because it’s overwhelming, and he doesn’t want to miss it.

Bucky smiles, happy and proud and heated and a million other things that have warmth spreading through Tony’s chest, curling up tight in his gut, lighting up his entire body. “Can I kiss you, baby?” he asks, lips nearly close enough to touch already, and when Tony throws himself forward Bucky catches him easily, left hand sliding to the small of Tony’s back and pulling him in closer.

The first press of lips is electric, has Tony sighing out a soft noise and then Bucky’s hand still cupping his jaw tilts his head a little further back and Bucky licks his way into his mouth with a slow, consuming determination. Tony clings harder to Bucky’s shirt where it stretches tight across his shoulders and hangs on for all he’s worth, tries to catch Bucky’s tongue between his teeth and shudders when Bucky growls low in his throat.

Bucky’s thigh slots between Tony’s like it belongs there and Tony breaks away from the kiss with a shaking groan as he abruptly realizes that he’s achingly hard, soft cotton of his sweats damp and clinging and amazing. “O-oh, shit-“ Tony gasps out, helpless against the way his hips jerk forwards just once to grind himself against that thick thigh. “God, Bucky-“ he whines, ducking his head to pant against the curve of Bucky’s shoulder and then bites back a desperate noise when Bucky’s thigh nudges up against him a little harder.

“Tha’s real sweet baby, sound so good,” Bucky sighs out as his lips move over Tony’s hairline, down his temple, his breath as heated as his words. He shifts his hand a little lower, spreads his fingers wide over the curve of Tony’s ass and pulls him in encouragingly as he growls “C’mon doll, don’t stop, lemme hear you makin' all those pretty noises for me.”

Tony doesn’t need to be told twice, rolls his hips forward again with another muffled groan. “Bucky, oh my god-“ he whines and presses closer, until he can feel Bucky’s cock nudged up thick and hot against his hip. His legs shake and he just clenches them tighter around Bucky’s thigh, tucks his face into Bucky’s throat and grinds himself forward. The sweet friction against his cock has Tony gasping again, shuddering all over as fire races up his spine and his head spins.

“Good, so good sweet thing, fit so perfect against me, gonna take such good care of you, treat you just right,” Bucky says against the shell of his ear and presses his thigh up a little further, digs his metal fingers a little harder into the swell of Tony’s ass and pulls in time with the roll of Tony’s hips against him. When Tony moans and clutches at him tighter Bucky chuckles again, low and dark, and drags his calloused thumb along the line of Tony’s jaw as he asks ”Damn you’re easy for me, ain’t ya? Gonna come like this, grindin’ against me all desperate and shakin’ for it?”

It sends another wave of heated, slightly-embarrassed arousal crashing over Tony and all he can do is whine again because unless Bucky is planning on stopping him, then he absolutely is. At this point Tony couldn't stop himself if he wanted to, cock throbbing and leaking as he grinds himself against Bucky’s thigh, panting hot against the curve of Bucky’s throat.

He can already feel his orgasm building fast, feels like it’s been building forever now, and his voice is shaking as hard as the rest of him as he moans out “Bucky- please, I- I’m, I can’t, please-“ Bucky silences him with a scrape of his teeth over the shell of Tony’s ear that has him practically collapsing against Bucky’s chest, limp except for the way he can’t stop rutting himself against Bucky’s thigh, chasing the sparks that light up his body.

Bucky laughs again, just a low, warm rumble in his chest, and presses another kiss to Tony’s eyebrow before saying “You’re this worked up you better come for me now, babydoll. ‘Cuz I’m gonna take you upstairs an’ take my time with you, make you feel as good as you deserve an’ put you to bed real sweet, how does that sound baby?”

He somehow makes it sound like both a promise and a threat, and Tony chokes out a noise caught somewhere between a sob and a moan. “Y-yeah, fuck yeah that- oh- fuck please-“ Bucky’s fingers press a little more firmly against the base of his skull, sliding through his hair, and Tony feels like he’s burning.

“Good,” Bucky says, an uneven hitch to his breath and Tony can feel the way Bucky’s cock throbs against him, “Fuck, you’re so good sweet thing, so perfect, feel so good, sounds so sweet for me, c’mon Tony, wanna feel you fall apart for me.”

Every word settles hot in Tony’s gut, has his head spinning faster until all he knows is Bucky’s voice in his ear, Bucky’s hands firm and demanding against him, the rush of his own blood in his ear as the pressure builds inside him. His sweats are going to be ruined and Tony doesn’t give a fuck because he’s so close, thin cotton already soaked and clinging to his cock, thrusts of his hips gone short and uncoordinated as his fingers scramble at Bucky’s back.

“Bucky,” he moans out, completely shameless, and drags his teeth over the line of Bucky’s throat, just because he can. Because Tony still kind of can’t believe the way Bucky shakes and groans against him, pulls him in harder and meets every roll of Tony’s hips with one of his own. “God, you’re so- I, I can’t believe- oh- Wanted you so long-“

“I know,” Bucky says, surprisingly soft and something almost like sheepish. He presses his thumb a little harder to the underside of Tony’s chin and tips his head up again, making Tony gasp at the rush of cool air over his flushed face even as he keeps his eyes squeezed shut because it’s so much. He’s so close to breaking apart at every seam. Bucky’s lips brush against his and Tony whimpers even as Bucky says “I see you now baby, been taking care of me for so long, haven’t you? Been so good, takin’ care of yourself so perfect for me, shit- you’re so good for me doll.”

“Bucky,” he gasps again, so close to the edge, every inch of him tingling, burning, so close-

“Look at me, Tony,” Bucky says, barest edge of a demand to his voice and it still has Tony prying his eyes open instantly. Then he groans weakly because Bucky is right there, blue eyes gone nearly dark, wild and hungry and fixed on him like there’s nothing else in the world as he breathes out “now be a good boy and come for me.”

Tony’s orgasm hits him overwhelming and inevitable, leaves him moaning breathlessly and clinging to Bucky impossibly tighter. Bucky’s hand on his ass keeps pulling him in, dragging it out until Tony is shaking and nearly sobbing into the feather light brush of Bucky’s lips against his own as Bucky calls him ‘good’ and ‘perfect’ and ‘gorgeous’.

As soon as he gets back the bare minimum brain cells Tony tips his chin up to kiss Bucky again, blissed out and lazy and it makes him shiver all over again when Bucky clutches at him tighter with a deep groan. Tony has to break away from the kiss sooner than he’d like because he still hasn’t quite caught his breath, hasn’t been able to get his hips to stop twitching forward as aftershocks race through him.

“Damn,” Bucky sighs, one hand petting at Tony’s hair and the other gentling against his waist as Tony slumps against him fully, “Good boy, so good baby, so perfect for me. Let’s get you up into bed, huh? Spread you out real nice and get my mouth on every inch of you.”

And that sounds good, it really does, but Tony can still feel Bucky’s cock thick and hard and throbbing against his hip, and he wants it now. So instead Tony drops to his knees, moving quick enough that he slides easily out of Bucky’s lax grip, presses his face to Bucky’s hip and nuzzles his cheek against the clear outline of Bucky cock through his thin pajamas.

“Fuck-“ Bucky gasps and his fingers tighten in Tony’s hair, holding him in place as his hips jerk forwards. “Damn what a sight you make, you want it that bad, doll?”

Tony turns his head just enough to look up at Bucky, lips moving against the hard line of Bucky’s cock, and he’s never meant anything more as he breathes out “Please, honey.”

Bucky’s eyes get impossibly darker and his cock throbs, the scent of him thick and heady and Tony’s mouth is watering. “We’re still in the kitchen, baby,” Bucky points out, but he’s already hooking his thumb into the front of his pants.

“I can be quick,” Tony promises, smirking a little because Bucky’s hips keep twitching forward against him, parajams visibly wet where they pull tight over the head of his cock, and this isn’t going to take long at all. And Tony really, really doesn’t care right now that he’s in the kitchen in a tower full of insomniacs, all he cares about his getting his mouth on Bucky, making Bucky feel as amazing as he does.

Bucky groans out something that was probably meant to be Tony’s name, but Tony has more important things to focus on because Bucky shoves his pants down far enough for his cock to spring free and Tony wastes no time trying to choke himself on it. He’s so loose-limbed and orgasm-dazed that when Bucky’s cock nudges at the back of his throat Tony just keeps going, only gags a little even as his eyes water and a whine builds in his chest.

“Oh- fuck Tony, so good, you’re so good baby, so- fuck-“ Bucky’s every word comes out rough and gasping and his fingers dig harder into the back of Tony’s neck, hips jerking forward like he just can’t help himself.

Tony moans encouragingly and clings to his hips, presses his nose to Bucky’s stomach and swallows around his cock. Bucky pulls back and then thrusts himself deep into Tony’s throat with another shuddering groan. Then he does it again, and again, until Tony has spit and precome sliding down his chin and arousal building again, almost painful, in his gut.

“Good, fuck you feel so good, you’re so- Tony-“ The way Bucky groans out the compliments, practically snarls his name, sends a hot shiver down Tony’s spine and has shaking all over again.

There’s a desperate moan caught in Tony’s chest that comes bursting out of him when Bucky abruptly tightens his fingers in Tony’s hair and yanks him back, leaves Tony panting for breath. His protest dies away when he opens his eyes and meets Bucky’s gaze, dark and ravenous.

“Open up, sweet thing,” Bucky growls, metal hand flying over his cock and his other hand still holding Tony in place, so close to the flushed, leaking head of Bucky’s cock and yet so far.

Tony doesn’t even need to think before he lets his aching jaw fall all the way open and he doesn’t care that his face is wet, constant pleading noises slipping out of his raw throat. He doesn’t care that he’s kneeling on the hard tile of the kitchen with his own come cooling in his sweats, all he cares about is getting more.

“Good boy,” Bucky gasps, and then finally comes. It streaks warm across Tony’s chin, the bridge of his nose, into his open mouth, and Tony lets his eyes fall closed again with a pleased moan as he runs his tongue over his lip, chasing the musky taste of him. “Fuck- shit, oh, Tony-“ the way Bucky groans out his name is going to stick with Tony for a long, long time, ringing in his ears, lighting him up, and Tony wants to hear it forever.

He’s still catching his breath when Bucky pulls him to his feet, into his arms, and Tony is all too happy to wrap his arms around Bucky’s shoulders, his shaking legs around Bucky’s waist, and let Bucky take his weight. “Okay, now we can go upstairs,” Tony slurs out as he drops his forehead to Bucky’s shoulder, voice rough, still feeling like he’s floating on air.

Bucky laughs, quiet and rumbling, and his hand is so gentle on the back of Tony’s head again as he tucks Tony’s face down into the curve of his neck. It’s definitely smearing Bucky’s shirt in come but if Bucky doesn’t mind then Tony certainly doesn’t care, just snuggles in closer and wonders if it’s actually possible for his heart to swell straight out of his chest.

“Whatever you want, babydoll,” Bucky says, warm and fond, presses a quick kiss to the side of Tony’s head and then starts carrying him towards the elevators. “Gonna take such good care of you, my good boy.”

Tony is pretty sure it’s not physically possible to get any closer, but he wraps himself tighter around Bucky and gives it his best shot and he mumbles “Gonna take care of you back.”

“I know you are, sweet thing, ‘s what makes you amazing,” Bucky says with another warm laugh, and Tony could probably argue that, because he’s really not, but he decides to let Bucky have this one.

For now. Apparently, they’ll have plenty of time to debate it later, over dates, and Tony is so looking forward to it.

Tony wakes up sore in places he didn’t even know he had, teeth marks on his shoulders and stubble burn on his thighs and just- deliriously happy. He can’t even try to convince himself it was some kind of crazy dream, because the physical evidence is kind of overwhelming. The other half of his bed is still warm, and there’s a telling clattering sound coming from his kitchen, and Tony decides he can afford to let himself lay here grinning at the ceiling like a loon for a while.

Soon enough Bucky is back with a giant plate of waffles and a wide smile, pausing in the doorway to drag his eyes down Tony’s bare chest. His hair is a mess and he’s unbearably gorgeous, and Tony smiles back as he realizes he can say it now.

“A beautiful man and breakfast? Help, my heart can’t take it,” Tony says, clutching at his chest with one hand even as he makes grabby motions at Bucky with the other.

“Not funny,” Bucky says, but he’s laughing as he sets the plate down on the nightstand and crawls back into bed, into Tony’s arms, and he’s still smiling softly when Tony pulls him into a kiss.

#The one where bucky gives tony a cookie and then watches him eat it #as i call it in my head #winteriron #buckytony #starkbucks #my fic

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offtopicoverload · 3 years

Text

Revenge is a Dish Best Served Cold

Poppy messed up. Poppy messed up even if she doesn’t know it yet. But Bea knows it. Bea knows that Poppy messed up really, really bad this time. And Bea’s going to make her pay for ever even thinking about messing with Zoey.

Or, what should have happened at the bacchanalia if MC wasn't so stupid and Zoey was respected and yes im still salty

also didn’t edit as much as normal so there’s definitely issues in this one but whatever

Zoey x MC (Bea Hughes)

~5.5k words

Bea rifles through the false bottom of Poppy’s dresser, searching for her credit cards that can be used against her, finding all sorts of blackmail and dirt to levy against the obnoxious rich girl. Bea eventually spots them buried beneath papers and folders, a phone, hard drives, all kinds of things that no doubt hold enough dirt to destroy Poppy for good.

But Bea’s only here for the cards, she doesn’t have the time to sort through everything right now. She grabs them, her hand knocking against a manila folder as she does. ‘Human Sacrifice’ is written in red sharpie, a paper falling out of the side, with a name at the top.

Bea’s eyes go wide as she reads every letter over and over and over again, every drop of black ink. She rips her phone from her pocket, fumbling to swipe and tap to her contacts and presses call on ‘Zo 😘.’ It rings for a minute, each tone sending panic spiking through Bea.

“Hey, what’s up? How’s it going?” finally rings from the speaker pressed to Bea’s ear.

“Get the fuck out of there,” Bea doesn’t bother with greetings, skipping straight to the point, “Get the fuck out of there right fucking now, Zo, fucking run.”

“Why? What the hell’s going on, Bea?” Zoey sounds on edge, no doubt concerned by Bea’s words and tone. Good.

Bea pulls her phone from her ear, putting it on speaker and opening her camera, “I don’t know, but it’ll be bad, so please leave, Zo, I’m on my way,” she hurriedly snaps pictures of Poppy’s stupid cards to use against her later.

“Okay, I’m seriously freaking out right now, can you please tell me what’s happening before I book it?”

Bea jams the cards and folder back in the false bottom, shoving it closed and struggling to her feet, “You’re Poppy’s ‘Human Sacrifice’ and you seriously need to leave, I’m not fucking around. I have no idea what she has planned but it’ll be bad, I’m sure of it.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going, I swear. But are you coming with?”

Bea rushes out of the room, darting for the stairs, “I’m coming now, I’m almost at the stairs and I’ll -”

“Fuck.”

“Zoey?!” Bea shouts into the speaker, not receiving an answer as she sprints down the hallway, tripping to the ground as she rounds a corner, desperate to get there in time.

“Put your hands together for this year’s sacrifice, Zoey Wade!” Poppy’s voice rings through the foyer as Bea slams into the railing, just to find Poppy standing on a makeshift stage to address the crowd and a spotlight on Zoey by the door.

“Bitch!” she swears under her breath, stumbling for the stairs as Poppy continues.

“A little backstory on New Money here. Once upon a time, Zoey grew up in a three bedroom home in… Brooklyn.” Bea can feel the steam coming from her ears as she barrels down the staircase, gripping the railing to keep from falling in her stupidly high heels that she should have never bothered with.

“Three? Where did you keep your clothes? And where was your dog’s room?” Trixie joins, only further enraging Bea with her incompetence.

Zoey's voice rings through the foyer, drawing Bea’s eyes as she stands her ground, “We kept our clothes in the closets and our dog didn’t have his own room. You know, how normal people live.”

“Not these people. I’m sure none of these people’s fathers worked as a banker either,” Poppy taunts, a sadistic smirk on her face.

“Like handling other people’s money?” Luis sounds as if it’s the most insane thing in the world.

The crowd erupts in laughs and jeers just as Bea reaches the end of the obnoxiously long staircase, already shoving through the crowd, elbowing everyone in sight.

“No! He… He was a senior manager! What the hell is wrong with all of you?!” Bea can just barely see Zoey across the room as she dives into the crowd, spotting a line of frat guys blocking Zoey from the door.

“I’m sure it must have been rough for him, working so hard to support you,” Poppy looks at her in fake sympathy. “Though I guess those paychecks weren’t enough to cover everything. Like say… a tube of peach flavored lipgloss? Sparkly pink nail polish? Maybe a pair of cubic zirconia stud earrings?” Poppy asks, feigning innocence or kindness, Bea can’t tell and she doesn’t care anyway.

“Poppy… Don’t,” Bea can barely hear Zoey’s quiet response anymore, can barely see her through the gaps in the crowd, and she hates what she sees. Zoey’s eyes are shining with tears, every muscle in her body tense as she trembles, glued to the spot.

Poppy turns back to the crowd, not even bothering to address her victim anymore, “That’s right, everyone. There’s a thief in our midst. A shoplifter.”

Bea pushes forward even more, jabbing everyone within arm’s reach until Michael grabs her, arms around her waist as he yanks her backwards to prevent her from reaching Zoey. She struggles, squirming and kicking in his grasp, shrieking as his arms tighten around her.

“Bea?!” Zoey’s voice sounds terrifyingly hopeful as she scans the crowd for Bea trapped in Michael’s hold.

“Zo!” she shouts back, pushing her head above the crowd to meet her eyes, just as a projector launches photos behind Poppy on her stage, drawing the entire crowd’s attention.

It’s a younger Zoey in an office, with red eyes and tears still streaming down her cheeks, a mugshot of sorts. Bea squirms even more, elbowing Michael in the ribs, but he still won’t fucking let go.

“Someone lock up the imported silverware!” Chloe’s shriek echoes in the foyer, providing a soundtrack to Bea’s struggles.

She jams her heel into Michael’s thigh, earning a yelp from her captor and pushing up enough to see the heartbroken expression on Zoey’s face, “How did you… Those… Those records were sealed! I never even had to pay a fine!”

“Oh, I know, I know,” Poppy nods with that same ridiculous sympathy again, “You may not have had to pay the price, and how could you have? Considering you clearly didn’t have any money. But this burden will live on with you forever,” her tone quickly turns malicious as she zeroes in on Zoey, “I will never let you forget that this is who you are. That you, Zoey, are a sad, little social climber who had to wait for someone with balls to cling onto to even make it onto our radar. Well, you’ve finally done it. You’re on my radar. Are you happy now?”

“Shut the fuck up, Poppy!” Bea screeches, jamming her heel even further into Michael’s thigh to rise above the crowd and glare at Poppy, flames in her eyes as she attempts to light Poppy on fire.

“Oh, Farmsville. Stupid, naive, little Farmsville,” she gives a saccahrine smile, hauntingly sweet. “Let the sacrifice begin,” she announces into the mic, eyes still trained on a furious Bea.

Zoey screams as tomatoes and wine fly at her, soaking her skin, her hair, her outfit, all of it seemingly coming out of nowhere as the crowd pelts Zoey mercilessly. She ducks her head, covering herself with her arms and backing away, only for the frat boys to shove her back in the spotlight.

“Betcha didn’t see that one coming,” Poppy mouths to Bea, right as Michael finally lets her go, rubbing his thigh and grabbing a tomato from Luis, hurling it at Zoey with a laugh.

And Bea can’t take it anymore, can’t take how powerless he just made her feel, can’t take how disgusting they all are, how cruel and heartless. She can’t take this shit anymore, she can’t deal with it, she can’t stomach it, not when her best friend is being assaulted across the room without her help.

She slugs him in the jaw, sending him reeling and staring at her in shock, but she’s already moving back through the crowd as the tomatoes fly, nearly tripping over people as she hurries as quick as she can. Zoey’s so close to the front door, she almost made it, she was almost safe. If Bea was only a few seconds quicker she could have changed this, she could have fixed this.

Bea shoves through the crowd to reach Zoey, receiving a few elbows to her sides and irritated comments, but she doesn’t stop pushing. She finally sees Zoey through the crowd again, the frat boys guarding the door throwing tomatoes at her without remorse as she cowers, arms raised to protect her head.

She grabs Zoey as soon as she reaches her, arm coiling around her waist and pulling her into her side protectively. Her hands are raised to hide her face as she leans into Bea, a slight whimper escaping her throat as Bea holds her. She pulls Zoey along to the door, shoving through those ridiculous frat boys and stomping on a few feet to do it, tomatoes still pelting them as she yanks the door open. She drags Zoey along, the other girl stiff at her side, arms still raised as they put the sorority house behind them, Bea running until it’s too far in the distance to be a threat.

She slides to a stop on shadowed grass, their heels ruined as she turns to Zoey, still tucked into her side. Her face is blank save for a few tears in her eyes and a quivering bottom lip, her eyes glassy as she stares into space. Bea can feel her body trembling under her arm and concern spikes within her, “Zoey, babe, what can I do to help? What do you need? To go home? I think we went in the wrong direction to our dorm, but we can still go. Do you want to get something off Postmates? Do you want to go and attack Poppy? I got the pictures,” Bea rambles, trying to catch Zoey’s glazed over eyes.

But Zoey doesn’t utter a single word, simply wraps her arms around Bea’s neck and buries her face in her shoulder, a sniffle muffled against her skin. Bea holds her tight, fingers scratching at the small of her back and swaying softly from side to side. She starts humming through random song choruses and verses stuck in her head until she lands on Uptown Funk. It popped up in their playlist earlier, as they did their hair and makeup, and the bathroom exploded in an impromptu performance.

“This hit, that ice cold, Michelle Pfeiffer, that white gold. This one for them hood girls, them good girls, straight masterpieces.” She pulls back, Zoey following and glancing up at her from beneath her lashes, the smallest smile on her lips as she watches.

Bea pounces on it, smiling and dancing goofily, jumping around in her heels, “Stylin’, wilin’, livin’ it up in the city.” Zoey laughs softly, Bea’s hands falling to hers and swinging her arms as she moves from side to side, “Got Chucks on with Saint Laurent, gotta kiss myself I’m so pretty. Too hot! Hot damn,” she echoes, “Called a police and a fireman, I’m too hot! Hot damn,” she fans Zoey, who rolls her eyes with a smile.

“Make a dragon wanna retire man, I’m too hot! Hot damn! Say my name, you know who I am, I’m too hot! Hot damn! And my band ‘bout that money, break it down,” she crouches low, pulling Zoey with her, “Girls hit your hallelujah,” she chants low, looking to Zoey expectantly.

Zoey meets her gaze with pursed lips and raised eyebrows, Bea tilting her head as she waits and waits and waits and - “Whoo,” Zoey cheers, Bea’s smile exploding as she launches forward, tackling Zoey in a hug and sending them tumbling to the ground. “Bea!” Zoey exclaims, even though it’s followed by laughter.

“What?” she asks cluelessly, pulling back from the embrace enough to meet Zoey’s dark eyes as she feigns innocence.

Zoey rolls her eyes, “God, you’re such a dork.” But she’s smiling fondly, even with tomato chunks stuck in her hair and dripping from her body. Bea beams wide at her success in cheering her up, her eyes nearly shutting as she just stares at Zoey, who shoves her shoulder, “Dork.”

“Yeah, but you’re smiling,” she singsongs the last word, still grinning down at Zoey beneath her.

Only that smile falls away as soon as it’s mentioned, her head falling back to stare at the sky blankly. Bea wiggles closer, flopping onto her back beside Zoey and staring up at the few stars they can see, her hand slipping in Zoey’s and interlocking their fingers. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Zoey sighs, staring up at the night above them, her thumb brushing along Bea’s knuckles. “I only did it because the group of girls I hung out with in middle school did. They never once got caught, so I thought it’d be okay.”

Bea turns her head to watch Zoey’s shadowed features, “And of course the one time they convinced me to try it with them, I got picked out and searched. Me, the only black girl in the group,” she scowls to the sky. “They all abandoned me there, not even looking back as I got taken with security,” she pauses to glare upwards, and Bea squeezes her hand in the silence. “But after I got off with just a warning, they wanted to keep pretending we were the bestest of friends.”

“I hope you told them you didn’t have time for snakes,” Bea grins, hoping the joke’s enough to lighten the mood, to help Zoey feel better.

“I’ve been dealing with mean girls, girls like Poppy, my entire life,” Zoey looks angry, rightfully so, “I don’t know why I thought for a second Belvoire would be different.”

Bea turns back to the few glimpses of stars they can see in the city, “I know it’s not much, but I’m always here. I’ve got you no matter what, babe.”

“I know,” Zoey whispers to the sky, silence settling between them easily, a familiar presence from study dates and weekends spent collapsed on the couch. From early mornings to late nights when they’re too tired to speak more than a few words, to do anything but smile or squeeze the other’s hand or shoulder. From haunting hours in the middle of the night after awful days to sunrises that promised a second chance, a redemption of sorts.

Bea sits up straight, squeezing Zoey’s hand as she looks down to her, “You wanna go home now? Wash up and get some sleep?”

Zoey nods stiffly, sitting up beside Bea and dropping her head to her shoulder, “Can we order pizza? And breadsticks?”

“We can order the entire pizza place if you want, babe,” she raises their interwoven hands, pressing a soft kiss to the back of Zoey’s.

---

Bea stalks into the courtyard the next day, determination boiling inside her as her gaze locks on Poppy sitting with Chloe and Veronica, tapping away at her phone and drinking a smoothie. She makes a beeline for the witch, fists clenching and jaw tight as she approaches.

She woke up early for this, made calls for this, went to the store for this. She went out of her way for this, and she’s going to relish it, relish the start of her vengeance. She’s not just going to forget what happened last night, she’s not going to move on or accept the revenge from posting trash about Poppy on The T after Zoey had fallen asleep.

She needs more, and she needs to make her suffer, to feel gross and less than, to feel loathed and despised. And Bea knows she can do it, that this is just the start.

She slams her palms on the table, startling Chloe, provoking Veronica to whip out her phone and start recording, and not even earning Poppy’s signature glare, “What do you want, Farmsville? I thought you’d have slunk off to your corn field by now.”

Bea doesn’t even say anything, just grabs Poppy’s smoothie, pulls off the lid and dumps it on her head with a neutral, unbothered expression. The only indication of her rage is the fire still in her eyes from the night before. Poppy cringes under the waterfall, her mouth falling open and arms raising to protect herself, “You are dead, Farmsville!” she screams as the liquid stops falling.

She stands, hovering above Bea in her ridiculously high heels and ruined pompous sweater and skirt. But Bea doesn’t back down, she meets her gaze, she squares her shoulder. She’s from the country, she could take this city bitch no problem.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Poppy spits through gritted teeth, her lips pulled back in a snarl as she glowers at Bea below her. “I will ruin you.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Bea spits right back.

Poppy smirks, self-satisfied and disgusting, “I already destroyed your little pet. How come she’s not following you around? Still too mortified to leave your nasty little dorm? Or did she finally realise she’s not cut out for this life? That she belongs in Brooklyn?”

Bea explodes, shoving Poppy backwards and nearly pushing her to the ground, her heels stumbling beneath her and ankles almost collapsing, “Zoey’s off limits!” she shouts, face flushed in her fury. “This was between you and me, not a single other person!”

“Then how come you constantly messed with the Zetas? And Carter?” Poppy counters, regaining her balance and matching Bea’s anger.

“That was different and you know! I didn’t humiliate or harass them, I didn’t fuck with them, I offered them an alternative to her Royal Bitchiness!” Bea gestures at a smoothie-soaked Poppy.

“I don’t see a difference. Besides,” Poppy shrugs, feigning indifference, “Why do you care?” she flicks her hair over her shoulder, “I thought she was just a tool. She’s not even top 15, she doesn’t matter.”

Bea steps right into Poppy’s face, fury flowing off her in waves, “I will ruin you. I will wreck your stupid little reputation, I will crush your pointless popularity, I will make sure that you are nothing but an average, basic, heartless bitch. I’m going to take your crown and give it to someone who deserves it, someone who isn’t mean and cruel and evil. I’m going to make you nothing, Poppy.”

“Yeah? And who’s taking my spot?” Poppy taunts, “You? Midwest trash will never touch first place,” she scoffs.

“No, not me. I’ve sunk to your level and I don’t even care. I’ll make sure someone better than the both of us takes that stupid spot.” She takes a step back, putting some much needed distance between them to prevent herself from punching another person within twenty-four hours. “But until then, I’d watch your back, Pops,” she turns on her heel, striding away. “Go ahead, boys!” she calls without looking back.

A shriek sounds from behind her as Carter and a few of the football and frat guys that most certainly do not include Michael, dump a tub of crushed and mashed tomatoes on top of Poppy, juice soaking her clothes and chunks mixing in with her strawberry blonde locks. “Farmsville!” she shrieks, Bea smirking as she walks to her dorm, not once sparing a glance over her shoulder.

---

Bea sits on her bed, grading papers for Kingsley as Cutiepie lays flopped on his back beside her, his little legs sprawled in the air and his tongue lolling from his mouth, Bea occasionally breaking to scratch his exposed underside. She tosses a paper to the side, pulling up another as her door flies open, slamming into the wall.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Zoey asks, striding into the room and waving her phone crazedly.

Bea glances up, pen pausing above the paper, “I’m… sorry?” her brows knit together.

Zoey huffs, “You dumped a smoothie and tomatoes on Poppy?! In the middle of the courtyard?!”

Bea caps her pen and drops it to the bedspread, smiling as she leans back and props herself up on her hands, “Yep!”

Her amusement isn’t shared, Zoey glaring at her angrily, “Why the hell did you do that?! Are you trying to start a war?!”

“I’m trying to finish one,” her smile’s fallen away as she meets Zoey’s dark, furious eyes.

“Why?! She’s just going to retaliate!”

“Good.”

Zoey gestures wildly, as if she’s the only sane person left in the world, “Why is that good?! What is going on with you?!”

Bea leans forward, her elbows landing on her knees as she meets Zoey’s eyes, her expression stone and tone serious, “She fucked with you. She crossed a line and she’s going to pay. Every time she escalates things, I can, too.”

Zoey’s features soften and her eyes fall shut, a sigh slipping past her lips. She walks to the bed, flopping face first onto the comforter, frozen as Bea sets her papers aside and scoots closer. She pokes Zoey’s shoulder, moving up to poke the side of her face when she doesn’t move, “Zo?” she asks softly.

“You’re really stupid, you know?” she finally says.

“Probably,” Bea concedes, “But why exactly this time?”

Zoey exhales sharply, rolling over to her back and meeting Bea’s eyes, “She’s ruthless. She doesn’t care about you and she’ll do whatever she can. It’s a miracle you’re still here.”

“Then I’m going to take advantage of it,” Bea answers coolly, confidently.

Zoey’s eyes fall shut again and she takes a deep breath before wiggling further onto the bed beside Bea, her arm open for her. And she obliges, falling to her side and dropping her head onto Zoey’s shoulder as an arm tightens around her shoulders, “I know there’s no stopping you, but you’re not allowed to get kicked from school. I’m not putting up with a shitty roommate because you got expelled or quit or something.”

“Okay,” Bea nods.

Zoey continues, “Do you promise you won’t do anything that might impact your stay at Belvoire?”

“Is this a contract? Do I need to get a lawyer?” Bea jokes, smiling against Zoey’s shoulder.

“Bea.” Her voice is stern, “Do you promise or not?”

She raises her head to meet Zoey’s gaze, the jokes falling away she pushes as much earnesty into her eyes as possible, “I promise, Zo. I’m not going anywhere.”

Zoey releases a sigh of relief, “Good,” just as Cutiepie crawls onto her side, flopping on her stomach and the tiniest amused smile quirking her lips. Bea reaches down to scratch his head, picking him up under his arms and pulling him into her grasp. She settles back against Zoey, setting Cutiepie on her chest and scratching behind his ears. He turns, licking at Zoey’s chin as she laughs softly, “Little weirdo.”

“Yeah, but you love him,” Bea grins.

Zoey pauses for a beat, glancing at Bea below her, eyes on Cutiepie, “Yeah, I do.”

---

Papers and plans surround Bea and Zoey on the floor of Bea’s bedroom, the former plotting her next move against Poppy as the latter scrolls her phone, her head on Bea’s shoulder as she works. Bea sorts through her papers, scribbling notes as she scans the pages.

Zoey glances up at her, finding her brow furrowed as she taps her pen on a page, focusing intently. Zoey sighs, sitting up and cupping Bea’s cheek to draw her gaze. She doesn’t give it, fighting to keep her eyes on the mess before her, “Zo, I’m working.”

Zoey’s palm pushes Bea’s face even farther from her paper, and she gives in with a sigh, irritatedly meeting Zoey’s gaze. There’s a crease between her brows and a frown on her lips that makes Zoey smile. Bea rolls her eyes at the quirk in her lips, “What, Zoey?”

She raises her other hand, cupping both sides of Bea’s face and uses her thumbs to lift the corners of her lips, “Turn that frown upside down,” she murmurs softly with a grin.

Bea’s jaw falls open as she stares at Zoey, whose gaze is trained on her lips, fingers still brushing the corners. She swallows thickly, “I, uh, that’s why you interrupted me?” she chokes out through a throat that seems impossibly dry.

Dark eyes finally meet her own, “Yep,” she beams. “But now that I have your attention,” she drawls. Her hands spring from Bea’s face, grabbing her hands as she jumps up, “Movie night!” She drags Bea along before she’s even on her feet, pulling her out of the bedroom and into the common area. She sets her on the couch, pushing down on her shoulders to get her to sit.

“Zo, I need to finish -”

“Nope!” Zoey cuts her off, looking at her sternly, “Movie. Night.” She turns, grabbing the remote and pulling her phone from her pocket. She passes the remote to Bea, giving her a sharp look when she attempts to decline, and pulls up Postmates on her phone.

They spend the night on the couch, ignoring the problem of Poppy, ignoring the plans Bea’s been working on, ignoring their homework and all the assignments Kingsley needs graded. They ignore everything outside of the dorm for the night, gorging on Chinese takeout and watching bad movies that make them laugh until they cry.

---

Bea and Zoey sit at a picnic table on the courtyard, eating burritos and scrolling their phones, occasionally showing each other funny videos and posts. It’s a calm day in the courtyard for once, no events or billboards of hog calling.

Well, it was a calm day, but Poppy’s intent on ruining that. She storms across the courtyard with Chloe hot on her heels, eyes trained on the back of Bea’s head as she sips an iced coffee, laughing at a dog video Zoey just sent her. “Farmsville!” she screams across the space.

Bea glances over her shoulder, shrugging as she spots the fury on Poppy’s face, and turns back to her lunch, still tapping away at her phone. Poppy muffles a scream, striding directly to Bea, “Farmsville!” This time she doesn’t even get a glance.

She stops at the table, grabs Bea’s burrito, and throws it as far as she can, leering down at her. Bea stands meeting her gaze, “What, Poppy?”

“You leaked my credit cards?!” she hisses, snarling like a wild animal.

Bea grins, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bull. I know it was you.”

“Do you now?” Bea asks calmly, reaching for her coffee and taking a long sip, meeting Poppy’s gaze coolly as she does.

“This part of your little vengeance plan for New Money?” she leers at Zoey, still sitting at the table and eating quietly. “Why do you even care about her, Farmsville? I get that she’s a little useful, but she’s still replaceable, just like anyone else,” she scoffs.

Bea slams her drink on the table, startling Poppy briefly as rage immediately takes over features, “Is that what you think Poppy?! That no one but you matters?! You think you’re so important and above everyone else even though you don’t do shit!”

Zoey’s abandoned her lunch now, crossing over to the opposite side and hovering warily behind Bea, close enough to intervene if necessary but far enough to let Bea handle it. It’s part of her plan, after all.

Poppy scans the pair of women before her as if she’s unimpressed, “No need to get so worked up, Farmsville. This never would have happened if you hadn’t picked her. Just find someone that’s not a criminal,” she shrugs.

Bea flies forward in the blink of an eye, tackling Poppy to the ground and towering over her, Zoey shouting behind them in shock, “Bea!”

Before she can do anything, Bea punches Poppy right in the jaw, sending her head flying. She punches once, twice, and is rearing up for a third hit when Zoey’s arms slip around her torso and jerk her backwards, pulling her back as she squirms and fights in her grasp, “Let me go, Zo! Let me fucking go!”

“You’re gonna get expelled!”

“I don’t care!”

Zoey’s lips drop to her ear, “You promised me.”

Bea immediately goes limp in her arms, all the fight knocked out of her in a fraction of a second. “Thank you,” Zoey whispers again, Bea’s feet slipping beneath her body to hold her up.

“You fucking animal!” Poppy shrieks, still sitting on the ground as Chloe pokes at her jaw, only pissing her off even more.

“At least I can admit it!” The fight’s back as she stands properly, slipping out of Zoey’s grasp, even as the other woman attempts to keep her back. “At least I can admit that this is all ridiculous! At least I can admit that it’s pointless and stupid! Can you admit it, Poppy? Can you admit that your precious crown has no worth? That you have no worth?” She stands over the strawberry blonde, staring down at her intently.

“Fuck off, Farmsville,” she scoffs, stumbling to her feet by gripping Chloe’s shoulder and shoving the blonde to the ground. “Run back to your cave with your little felon friend. At some point you’ll realize just how little she matters,” Poppy spits.

Bea meets her gaze easily, jaw clenched tight, “She matters more than you. She matters more than me. She matters more than anybody, and at some point you’ll realize that, when she’s more successful than you, more popular, more wealthy, more respected. You’re a vile creature, and somebody you’ll lose your power and sit sulking as everyone stops caring about you. Because you. Don’t. Matter.”

“Bea, that’s enough,” Zoey slips an arm around her, carefully leading her away, their lunches abandoned. And this time Bea doesn’t resist, doesn’t fight back, doesn’t try to squirm away to fight with Poppy more.

She lets Zoey lead her back to their dorm, sit her at the kitchen counter, and make her a cup of tea. She lets Zoey turn on 90s music as she dances around the kitchen, trying to lighten the mood and resolve some of Bea’s anger. She lets her wrap her in a hug when the music and dancing doesn’t work, let’s her tell her to let it go and move on, to forget about Poppy and all her bullshit.

“I can’t just forget it, Zoey, I can’t let her get away with everything she’s done,” she meets dark eyes, her own shining as she silently pleads for Zoey to understand, to give her permission to carry on this path that will only lead to destruction.

Zoey sighs, her head dipping as she thinks. She looks back up after a minute, meeting Bea’s gaze, “If we’re doing this, we’re being smart about it.”

“I’m doing it, Zo. You’re staying out of this,” her brows knit together, her face serious as her eyes pour into Zoey’s.

“Nuh-uh,” Zoey shakes her head. “You just attacked Poppy. You need me to keep you in check, babe, hate to break it to you,” she smiles teasingly.

“She already -”

Zoey cuts her off, “I don’t care. You promised me you’d stay safe, and clearly you can’t do that on your own, so suck it up and get over it, Bea.” Her words are sharper than she meant them to be, harsher as she stares down the woman across from her.

Bea sighs, her head falling to the counter beneath her arms. “Fine,” comes out muffled against the countertop. “But if she ever throws another tomato at you, I’m killing her on the spot.”

Zoey laughs, “Alright, deal. Luckily, I don’t think tomatoes are her choice weapon,” she grins down at Bea’s hunched form, relief spilling over her at Bea’s acceptance of her plan.

A hand slips in her own, Bea squeezing tight as she weaves their fingers together, “They better not.” Zoey squeezes back, lifting their locked hands to kiss the back of Bea’s, her thumb tracing her knuckles gently.

They miss the rest of their classes that afternoon, Bea plotting intently as Zoey reels her in on the crazier ideas. They order more burritos and watch the chaos of Bea posting Poppy’s cards on The T, all the purchases people made, all the people complaining that the cards were declined, and all of Poppy’s messages urging people to stop and telling them off when they don’t.

It’s amusing, Zoey has to admit, watching Poppy suffer and face backlash, to be the one under the criticism of the Belvoire public, be the one struggling and hurting. It’s nice, to get revenge and not even have to feel an ounce of guilt.

And it’s nice that Bea’s the one that got it for her, the one that decked Poppy in front of dozens of students because she talked trash on Zoey, the one that took tomatoes to the head to help Zoey.

Maybe it’s just Bea that’s nice, Zoey decides as she watches Bea break from her work to grin at Zoey, butterflies whirring in her stomach as she meets that smile, a tornado of fluttering wings whirling in her gut, a sickening but thrilling sensation filling every ounce of her body, an overwhelming but welcome presence. Yeah. That’s it; it’s just Bea that’s nice.

#choices fanfic #queen b #zoey wade #zoey x mc #qb revenge #justice for zoey wade 2020 #another zoey from between for real prompts and an aurora fic #longer this time #im iffy on this one but wanted to post

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