#like he could help a force of ''good'' but. think the mantle of responsibility and power has been thrust enough on him

[hwei]

finally read some lore today. imagine being so amulet-able and sealable. everyone keeps sealing you away because you're cringe

#hwhee talks #about beego #this guy got sealed like four times and rejected twice!! take the hint dude!!!!! #smth really funny about people keep going. yeah. i know just the tool for this. release the guy who rly missed his wife. thatll do the job #something something abt a tragic story of becoming a weapon other people use and your emotions warped into a way to control you #but thats my basic processing of the story so far #the ''never loved properly growing up'' part hurts though. ow same dude. #im even more invested in a story arc where he does finally give up on it all and tries to seek love and humanity elsewhere #i dunno if id want it to be a Viego Becomes A Hero story... idk how to word it #i dont think its a Hero story he needs? i do think itd be awesome if he grows and changes as a person #and did get support he obviously never got #and honestly? i think itd be healthier if the story didnt force a hero's role on him #like he could help a force of ''good'' but. think the mantle of responsibility and power has been thrust enough on him #when hes clearly not the type of person for it #theres probably also a lot of processing to be done about being used so many times for other peoples goals #anyways have a nice nap veego. honkmimimimi

[dairy-farmer]

Bruce comes back from being dead to Dick estranged from the family and Jason and Tim being Dami’s parents

such a twist on the usual 'bruce is lost in time trope' where jason and tim end up being damian's primary caretaker!!!!

honestly dick is a character that is often forced to shoulder and bear the burden of a lot of things. bruce dying and leaving the mantle of batman could have the potential to have pushed him over the edge and just been too much. so rather than trying to keep the family together, telling his brothers they only had each other for support- he left. it's just the final nail on the coffin for him, the straw that breaks, the request of him that is just too much.

tim and damian wake up one morning to dick's room empty and his stuff gone. all that's left is a note about how he can't do it anymore and that he's sorry but that this was never what he signed up for. this wasn't how he'd wanted his life to go, that he'd never wanted to be the person who would raise two kids when he barely had his life together. dick writes about how he knows that with bruce gone not only would gotham fall on his shoulders but damian and tim, his adopted brothers, would now be his responsibility as well and....he can't do it. he taps out because this isn't what he wants, having the bats and the "mission" be what his life revolves around isn't what he wants. he's sorry but anyone else in his shoes would do the same.

of course damian and tim's relationship is tense and not good but...now a big heaping responsibility has suddenly fallen on tim's shoulders. dick is gone and alfred has already mentally checked out because bruce is gone which makes tim the eldest person and the only person available to take care of damian. if damian gets in trouble, if he kills, if he goes back to the league- that's on him.

and that's what tim is concerned about at first. but then other things start popping up. like damian being hungry. so tim has to figure out what to feed him, how to feed him. damian needs clean clothes for school, damian needs to be registered for school, damian needs supplies for school, the school needs a number they can contact in case damian acts out and tim has no choice but to offer his own and he gets called in practically every week for one problem or another. tim has to try, he has to do a LOT now that he's the person taking care of damian.

so by forced proximity and the fact that tim genuinely has to try, their relationship smooths out. they have some bumps, some resistance from damian who was harboring some deeply hurt feelings over dick essentially abandoning them. but eventually the two of them are able to come together because they're stuck and there's no point in making things more difficult for the other.

when jason goes around killing, as the eldest and now the next prime candidate in gotham to be batman- tim has to stop him. of course jason gets a laugh out of tim and damian teaming up, makes jabs about when "goldie" is going to arrive only to go quiet when he sees the looks on their faces.

of course the three of them don't get along immediately. but jason does his own legwork and realizes dick has essentially fled the coop leaving the two youngest on their own and with tim now shouldering the responsibility of raising a child (because alfred is certainly not in the right place to do it- in fact alfred has taken his vacation time and tim is the ONLY one caring for damian) and being batman. for jason its reluctant help initially. he's not bringing over casseroles and bottles of milk- he's just occasionally checking up on them because he remembers being 17 and there's no way he would've been able to raise a kid like tim is supposed to be doing. and he's right. it's too much. tim is clearly at his wits end getting called to damian's school every other day for behavioral problems and working at WE because he's appointed himself ceo to protect bruce's legacy.

jason wonders what exactly dick had been thinking abandoning them like this it's so...uncharacteristically cruel of him. if anyone would throw themselves on a sword for their brothers jason would've thought it would be dick...

and so... jason steps in a few times much to tim's great relief. he starts spending more and more time with them because tim helps him out with information sometimes and before long jason is doing grocery runs and helping damian with his homework while tim cooks dinner and talks about how jason's best idea was telling tim to request to work from home and only going into WE once every few weeks.

by the time bruce returns they're a well oiled machine and his inquiries about where dick is only brings up some bitterness and resentment from tim and damian. and when dick DOES return after having had his mental breakdown all across europe it's to...a very distant relationship with tim and damian. things are tough and they never quite get back to the way they were, the way they could've been if he'd never left....but if dick had never left then jason would've never come into tim and damian's lives the way he did.

so if tim never sheds the habit of pressing a soft, thankful kiss to jason's cheek every morning, and if damian never quite gets into the habit of darting to bruce for help with his schoolwork or to fill out a permission slip then...no one really musters the ability to say anything about.

#answered asks #asks #anonymous #jaytim

[itsclydebitches]

If the writers had successfully developed Ironwood into a villain, the storyline still would have faltered because, with the heroes 100% secure in their choices and the enemy vulnerable about theirs, they, no matter how bad, will always feel easier to connect and empathise with because they feel more human compared to the heroes. Ironwood assures not!Penny she's doing the right thing. Ironwood pleads with Winter. Ironwood tears up. The heroes just tell themselves that they made the right choice.

Yeah, RWBY has a lot going on, including a lot of problems, so fixing one aspect, even a big one, isn't going to fix everything else too... but it would certainly help lol.

For me, the most frustrating thing about these later volumes is that the writing gets so close to letting the cast be flawed, complex, relatable heroes, but then continually pulls back at the last moment. Ren calls the group out on their failures, but Yang and Jaune instantly dismiss them. Ruby has a breakdown about how her plan didn't work, but Yang instantly reassures her that they tried, so it's fine. May insists that they make a hard choice for once, but instead they remain in the mansion and the next time we see her, May has completely changed her tune, claiming that there's nothing more the heroes could have done. (With the problem always being that yes, there was a lot more the heroes could have done). And then we've got all the moments where the story doesn't overtly establish a problem, but hints at it strongly, so strongly that in any other show you'd be mocked for thinking it wouldn't be resolved. However, RWBY drops conflicts like hot potatoes. How will Weiss resolve her disagreement with Winter? She doesn't. How will Qrow grapple with his decisions that got Clover killed? He doesn't. How will Yang work through this nonexistent fight with Blake? She doesn't.

Yeah, it's easy to differentiate the good from the bad on the surface because Ruby sheds tears, gives passionate speeches, and Ironwood is, canonically, trying to bomb a city. It's only when you ask what Ruby is crying over, what the speeches lead to, and whether this sudden turn into villainy makes sense (it doesn't) that you might go, 'Hold on, I'm honestly feeling more sympathy for the bad guy legitimately grappling with his decisions, than the heroic girl confidently leading a kingdom to their doom.' RWBY doesn't let the heroes make mistakes anymore, which means that we don't get to read their emotions as anything other than righteous fury. No matter what the heroes say or do, the audience is supposed to respond with, "Yeah! You tell 'em!" which would get pretty old pretty fast even if I did legitimately have that response within the context of the events. But when it's stuff like, "Yeah, you attack that ally instead of sending Weiss to Atlas" or "Yeah, you lie to Ironwood, and Mantle, and the entirety of Remnant, just like Ozpin lied to you" or "Yeah, you strip Penny of her identity without her consent and then frame that as a marked improvement; the chance for her to finally be 'real'" it, uh... gets pretty hard to drum up the emotional response I know the story wants to invoke. Ironwood is a mess by the end of the series and no, I don't feel for the man who wants to kill a whole city for no apparent reason. I do, however, feel for the man who was driven to extremes due to outside forces, part of which came from people he thought he could trust, and from a meta perspective, the authors who gave up on his development halfway through, resulting in a 'genocidal general' that didn't make sense within the story.

#rwde #rwby #mymetas

[bella-caecilia]

Could you please do 27 from the gentle love prompts?

Here you go, a little pre-canon Cobert piece, anon and also for @vinnyvangohsleftear who requested the same prompt :) Thank you!

Day 2

27 – defending them in front of others

“Yes, of course, she is doing all that is asked of her, but with what success?” his mother’s voice proclaimed in no uncertain tone and loud enough for everyone present to hear it. “I mean, Robert, that is really the bare minimum your wife is fulfilling here. Look at those flower arrangements.”

She picked at some orange flowers with pointed fingers and an expression of disgust written on her face.

“Oh really, Mama,” Robert put in. “They aren’t too bad.” But he couldn’t think of anything else to say. When he leaned closer to show appreciation for Cora’s critiqued flower arrangements, a rather repulsive smell rose to his nose. Maybe Mama was right and these botanicals didn’t have that much to them. But Cora’s efforts only being the bare minimum? Absolutely not.

Robert turned his head looking for Cora. She wasn’t with them in the drawing room but right outside with the two girls and nanny. Tea was over and Cora’s guests had left after uttering sweet compliments as they blew kisses on Cora’s cheeks. Mama wasn’t as impressed. She made these compliments out to be mere pleasantries and insincere civilness. Fortunately, Cora hadn’t witnessed Mama’s harsh judgement. Not this time at least. After teatime, she had been much too eager to meet Nanny halfway who readied the girls for their afternoon walk. Now, they were standing outside on the gravel in front of the drawing room. Mary was jumping on one leg, showing off her new skill with excitement and Cora squatted – quite unladylike he had to add – in front of her eldest daughter and cheered her on. Nanny was rocking the pushchair while Edith was sitting upright in it and mustered the whole situation with a sceptical expression. Robert was glad Mama was standing with her back to the windowfront, even though he himself enjoyed seeing his sweet family so casually.

“Cora is doing her job very well,” he said without taking his eyes off his wife.

“I can see why you feel like you have to say that,” Violet replied and redirected Robert’s attention back to her with this statement. She was fishing a last scone from the tray the footman was carrying back to the kitchen. She eyed the pastry scrutinisingly as she continued talking, “and I respect your loyalty to your wife, but if we were all acting like you on this matter, I’m afraid this estate would be in quite inept hands in some years. And it won’t help you fulfil your tasks to your best abilities either.”

From the corner of his eye, Robert could see the butler busying himself with rearranging the throw pillows on one of the sofas as a futile attempt to escape the awkward silence that followed. He wasn’t the only one who tried blending into the background at Mama’s latest statement. In his upwelling anger, Robert could see how his father stood at the mantle of the fireplace, still in his walking attire and his back turned to Mama and Robert. Robert was sure his father had heard every word Mama had said about Cora and had decided to deliberately zone out at this point, now that it seemed to get serious. Rosamund however, who was staying for a few days since it was Papa’s birthday soon, sat on a sofa next to where Papa was standing and looked at Robert with raised eyebrows, eagerly waiting for his response. Certainly, this was more entertaining for her than the ever-same stories that were exchanged during tea with the other ladies.

The sound of Papa slurping the remainder of his tea made Robert finally snap. His simmering blood now boiled severely behind his eyes.

“I won’t accept ANY of these things said about my wife and me!” He spat the words out in a dangerously low and forceful whisper. Mama’s lips narrowed into nothing but a thin line.

“In fact, Cora is doing an astoundingly good job, and no one of you – no one of us – can understand what it is like to be in her position. What I see is a lady adapting to all the demands and challenges remarkably well. And there is more than one way to do this job, Mama. Cora is finding her own way, with all your help and guidance, but it has to be her own way nevertheless.” His chest heaved, the adrenaline still rushing through his veins. No one dared to speak, and Robert challenged Mama with an intense look. He usually didn’t defy his mother’s words. Somehow, he expected more of a reaction from her than the ignorant silence.

Rosamund and Papa observed the dispute now with more curiosity. Papa turned around and looked his son up and down with some estrangement. The superior eagerness on Rosamund’s face was relieved by genuine surprise.

“You really are always so awfully defensive of her, Robert,” Mama eventually dropped. Before he could interject, Mama went on. “And you better get a grip on yourself, because this is truly no tone in which to talk to your mother.”

He took a quick breath and briefly decided to disregard the last statement. “It is not that I am defensive, Mama.” He couldn’t keep his voice under control, and it quickly broke into a higher volume as his anger took over. “YOU are just unreasonably RUDE!”

It was a good thing that the butler had left the room just a minute before because Robert knew, his mother would forgive him even less if he had yelled at her in front of the staff.

He heard his mother’s sharp intake of breath and the beginning of his father’s displeased grumble but only saw Cora through the window behind Mama. She was standing there in her dark green coat and looked at him with wide eyes. Nanny was bringing the children back inside but Cora was standing behind the window and looked at him with worry. His yelling must have been loud enough to be noticed outside. Robert saw how her eyes asked him if everything was alright.

Before his father could set to chide him, Robert cleared his throat, “Please excuse me. I’m not feeling quite well.” He turned on his heel and left the drawing room.

In the main hall, he met Cora whose feet quickly carried her from the front door to him. She stepped to his side and grabbed his arm to walk up the stairs with him.

“What was all that about?” she asked curiously. She shot him a glance with her attentively wide eyes. The bright blue stuck with Robert even as their eye contact broke.

“Oh, nothing.”

“You seemed really upset,” she remarked.

“Well, you know how Mama can be.” He kept his answers short, not wanting to burden Cora with the unpleasant discussion.

“But what could she have complained about? Everything went well today, didn’t it?” Cora leaned forward while talking, showing her full expression of confused worry to him.

“Exactly. That’s why I’ve been so upset that she had to dampen everyone’s spirit just because she is in a lousy mood,” Robert grumbled. He patted her hand where it held onto his upper arm. He was relieved when it seemed like this answer calmed Cora’s mind. She relaxed beside him as they ascended the last steps of the large staircase.

“Well, I’m glad tea time had been a success at least. I don’t want to imagine her humour if that too had displeased her.” The swing in her tone, that attributed undeniably to her Americanness, was unmissable to Robert.

“Me neither,” he just replied. This one time, that he was able to, Robert wanted to shield his sweet wife from the sorrow his mother often provoked.

When Cora let go of his arm and turned to him as they reached the door to her room, she practically beamed at him.

“I know I won’t ever get a compliment out of her,” she began. “But the absence of any criticism is enough acknowledgement when it’s your mother.”

Robert gulped.

“Now let me get my coat off,” she said in her chipper mood. She rose slightly onto her toes and breathed a kiss on his cheek. “Will you join me in our sitting room in ten minutes? I could use someone to keep me company while I’m doing my needlepoint.”

Robert nodded slowly as she turned the door handle.

When there was no verbal answer from him, she added, “Otherwise I’d have to join Mama and Rosamund downstairs.”

“No, no! Of course, I’ll join you, my dear,” Robert quickly protested. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

Cora closed her door behind her with a content smile and Robert went to retrieve his book from his dressing room.

If you want to send in a prompt, the list is here.

#cobert flufftober #thanks for the prompt #cobert drabbles #cobert #robert crawley #cora crawley #pre-canon cobert #downton abbey drabble #downton abbey

[awlumii]

i think in the witch/herbalist!reader au, cyno would probably be like albedo in that his role doesn't differ too much from canon... but i guess instead of him punishing those who abuse knowledge, he'd be from a council of mages that keep tabs on others to ensure that they're not misusing their magic? maybe? is he just responsible for delivering criminals? does he kill them if they resist too much? idk, but hear me out:

the point is that your mentor was super high on the council's watch list (i have an idea as to why, but i need to flesh it out some more) and after they died, they left you with all of their work, forcing you to take up their mantle, which you really don't want to do — you literally just want to be a good herbalist.

the council is shocked to learn that that absolute menace (your mentor) had an apprentice; at the time of their death, they were essentially at their most dangerous, so to prevent further disaster, they promptly send cyno to deal with this apprentice — to deal with you — as quickly and as cleanly as possible. they fear that in the time that it took them to know that you existed, you may have expanded upon your mentor's work and become even more of a threat than they once were. you need to be taken care of immediately.

i'm sure that to cyno, this is just another job. not that he underestimates your abilities — the student can quickly become the master, after all — it's just that the council always makes a big deal out of stuff like this, and he always delivers. plus, they're probably right. he's seen your mentor's files — since you have unlimited access to that stuff, there's no telling how much havoc you could've wreaked on your kingdom thus far. it doesn't matter how strong you are; he will do as he always does, and deliver swift justice.

the file said you were in the forest on the outskirts of the kingdom. at least he didn't have to worry too much in case a fight broke out. as he approaches your cabin, he feels a wave of raw energy stop him in his tracks. the sheer amount of power makes him hesitate for a split second before he continues on. he readies himself for a fight. soon enough, he spots a figure hunched over a little ways away and noticed that it's the source of all the power. it's you.

cyno charges you with no warning. his footsteps are quiet, but not silent — just before the tip of his blade can make contact with your shoulder, you're parrying him away with a staff that you conjured in the blink of an eye. your reflexes are good, he notes. but that won't save you. you shout at him, demanding to know what it is that he's doing and why he's doing it. cyno, kind as he is, tells you that you need to be exterminated. he doesn't tell you why. instead, he charges you again, and finally, a battle ensues.

the battle is a little lengthy, but comes to a halt when you actually manage to get the upper hand on him. you've got cyno pinned to the ground with the tip of your staff in his face. you could change the tip into a blade and end his life, but you don't. instead, you ease off of him and extend a hand to help him up. cyno eyes you warily and asks why you're helping him. you huff as you catch your breath and tell him that you never wanted to fight in the first place; you just wanted to put him in his place to get him to stop. since you technically won, the battle was over, and he could leave you alone.

cyno is... baffled by you to say the least. you're supposed to be this horrible threat but instead you're ushering him into your cottage to treat any wounds you inflicted upon him. upon closer inspection, cyno understands that you're not a threat at all — he can't say the same for your demon familiar, though. you also have another little cat named qiqi. a peculiar little thing, she is, but she's cute and harmless. the demon is really the only thing that he needs to keep an eye on.

ig i'm trying to say that cyno basically has to keep an eye on you.. and he helps you hone your powers/knowledge for good just in case — he's like a mentor, in a way, but also a student because he's not too sure what exactly it is that you've been left with. he's a good person basically, but it remains unspoken that if you fuck up so much as once, all bets are off.

#[ 🗣— chit chat! ] #[ 💭 — thinking! ] #hmm gonna go to sleep now #but i'm gonna be sitting on this for a while

[themattress]

Leora W: Queen of Bad Takes

I won’t dignify this person with any links, only responses to her numerous fallacies.

On Season 5:

I had to suffer through what I would argue was not only the worst season of the show but the worst season of any show ever: Once Upon A Time Season 5.

Not only is there no way OUAT Season 5 could possibly be the worst of the show when Seasons 6 and 7 both exist and follow it, but the worst season of any show ever? Yeah, no. 

One of the major problems with Season 5 was they seemed to be bringing in characters or shiny toys for the sake of bringing them in without thinking about how they would affect the overarching plot. When that character or shiny toy didn't amount to anything, they would abandon it because they didn't think it through.

....Are you kidding me!?  You say that’s a problem with Season 5, and not the whole show!?  Where were you for the past three seasons or the next two? This isn’t a unique problem!

How come Killian wasn't haunted by former Dark One's in Storybrooke just because Emma wiped his memory? He was still the Dark One, wasn't he?

Apparently if there’s a mental block, the former Dark Ones can’t appear.

Or how come nobody tried true love's kiss on Emma in Camelot? And how come when she and Hook did kiss in Camelot, and she was actively trying to get rid of the darkness, it didn't work?

As wretched an episode as it is, “The Price” answered this already: by the time a kiss was attempted Emma was already thrilled by the power she wielded, which is why she waffled on getting rid of the Darkness afterward, like when she tried to justify potentially keeping it and using it for good. TLK won’t work when one party is enthralled with power; just ask Belle.

What on earth did that horse do to end up in The Underworld with unfinished business?

It wasn’t always there, it’s implied that Daniel sent it there from Heaven.

(Talks about lack of follow-through and dropped plotlines and ignoring established rules)

Again, what show have you been watching all this time!? This is sadly the norm for it.

Season 4 ended with Rumpelstiltskin's heart being scrubbed clean of the darkness and Emma Swan taking up the mantle of The Dark One. This provided many possibilities. More than anything, it seemed like an opportunity to redeem Rumpelstiltskin. He no longer had The Darkness inside him, and it allowed the heroes a chance to understand and sympathize with what made him so evil in the first place. Instead, the heroes adamantly advocate for Emma but disregard a newly pure and powerless Rumpelstiltskin worthy of their time or help. Rumple becomes a hero, pulling a sword from the stone, but he relapses to Darkness in the end.

The Darkness was never what made Rumple evil. Rumple made Rumple evil. That was the whole point being proven which was already proven in the Season 4 finale but I digress.

Killian Jones becomes a Dark One alongside Emma and embraces his newfound darkness rather quickly, despite all the character's progress throughout the series. Yet, once he is no longer The Dark One, he is forgiven, redeemed, and resurrected, despite all he did.

Because he “became a Dark One alongside Emma” because Emma forced it upon him against his will, and then tried to control him by force which naturally caused his progress to crumble and him to give in. He’s forgiven, redeemed and resurrected because of his own actions to rectify his evil actions, which are done without expecting any reward, I might add.

Worst of all, Zelena has a quickie redemption in The Underworld! So does King Arthur!

Zelena’s quickie redemption was no worse than Regina’s, and while I can see the criticism toward Arthur’s I felt it made perfect sense given his previously established character.

As for the Underworld, that plot was entirely underwhelming. Hades in the movie is a fun and charismatic villain, but his interpretation on the show was weak and meh.

No, he was still a fun and charismatic villain, just in a different way than in the movie. He’s actually a lot closer to the take Jack Nicholson, Disney’s first choice, likely would’ve given.

Megara, also, was a huge disappointment. In the movie, she was a badass. She didn't need a man, she had a complex backstory, and she was willing to sacrifice herself for love. On this show, she barely exists.

This wasn’t the Disney version of Megara, though! Unlike Hades, she and Hercules had no holdover from the Disney movie; they’re just versions of the old mythological characters.

(Complains about Rumbelle being toxic because “Rumple's story has always been about redemption” and Belle’s part in it is now ruined.)

You missed the point of Rumple and of “Skin Deep”, like so many did.

Emma, a character who we know has walls up to her head, went from not being ready for a relationship to crossing moral lines to save Killian and then literally dragging her family to hell to save him.

The line-crossing was dumb, but no, she didn’t drag anyone to Hell. It was the Underworld, not Hell, and her family volunteered to go with her, they weren’t remotely “dragged” there.

Basically, they wanted to make Captain Swan as epic as Snowing, even having Emma say, "I will always find you," the Snowing motto, on her way to the Underworld. Captain Swan didn't have the juice for that, and making them epic and tragic took away what was fun about them.

No, Captain Swan did have the juice for it. This was a fine idea, it just had bad execution.

Aside from taking away from every other aspect of the series and losing their fun side, many have described Hook's behavior toward's Emma as toxic.

It was! What these fans seldom focus on is how equally toxic her behavior toward him is. They just want a simple “bad man abuses good woman” narrative in order to condemn the Captain Swan ship, which ignores Dark Emma inflicting textbook domestic abuse upon Hook.

In the case of both Rumple and Emma, when they were the Dark One, their goals were usually to protect those they loved, even if it meant crossing lines to do so. Killian told Emma he wanted to hurt her and that she was a pretty blonde distraction from his true goals of revenge.

In the case of both Rumple and Emma, they actively chose to become the Dark One to start with. Killian literally begged for Emma not to make him the Dark One and she did it anyway. And again, no mention of what Emma did to him prior to him saying those terrible things.

(Talks about Robin’s needless death followed by an awful season finale)

.....Wait, why did I even list this? She’s got me there! :P

On Redemption Arcs:

The thing is, Arthur didn't really change. He deduces that the prophecy that he would rule over a "broken kingdom" refers to The Underworld and not Camelot as he always thought. It's the destiny he's been chasing forever, so of course, he would do it.

You misread that scene. Camelot was the broken kingdom that Merlin prophesized; Merlin himself confirmed this. Arthur’s flaw was that rather than just take heroic actions naturally so that the prophecy comes to pass, he fixates on the specifics of the prophecy, particularly Excalibur, and rather than actually repair the broken kingdom he just papers over the cracks with magic sand. Hook’s actions in the Underworld showed Arthur that you are capable of making your own destiny through your own deeds, and so he accepted the Underworld as a second chance to do something positive rather than accept any sort of heavenly reward.

Making Arthur a villain was a nice surprise, but his redemption was weak. The character wasn't likable, even as a guy you love to hate. Frankly, OUAT would have been better if the characters had never gone to Camelot, but that's a rant for another time.

I object; he was totally a “love to hate” type, the issue was that he became too incompetent to take seriously, and a villainous version of King Arthur is someone you absolutely should be able to take seriously. And OUAT would have actually been better if the characters just went to Camelot and never came back to Storybrooke within the same arc. That was the problem.

Rumple's redemption was seemingly written into the series from the beginning. For the first two and a half seasons of the show, Rumple's redemption arc was picture perfect.

It really wasn’t, and out of what you mentioned only that “a half” constituted an actual redemption arc for the character...and even then, it only ended well because his son was around to inspire him to die a sacrificial death. If he hadn’t done so, he would’ve relapsed.

By Season 6, not all viewers wanted Rumple to be redeemed. He had backslid so many times. His redemption was hard to trust when it happened. His final redemption was death, which kind of fit because he had lived so long and deserved to rest. Plus, after everything he did, seeing him live would have left us questioning if he was going to backslide again.

Thanks for pointing out precisely why he just should’ve bit the bullet (again) in Season 6.

Still, it would have been better if they had leaned into his initial redemption in 3x11 and let the character grow, instead of all the unnecessary back and forth.

No, the back and forth was fine since that was a core part of his character. It only became an issue when he went forth in a specific way he couldn’t feasibly come back from, and yet the show and other characters still acted as though back was a possibility, which wasn’t realistic.

One of the unusual and refreshing things about OUAT's redemption arcs, at least the ones they did well, was that instead of going for the familiar trope of person-redeems-themself-for-lover, they did the underrated and underused person-redeems-themself-for-their-child. Killian Jones is the exception to this. (*goes on to complain about this and then say Wish Hook had a better redemption since he did it for a child*)

1. I’ve seen this bullshit logic before, and I just have to ask that if Hook is an exception, shouldn’t he be considered the “unusual and refreshing” one here since the norm on this show is redemption-for-child rather than redemption-for-lover? Did you ever think of that?

2. Hook didn’t even redeem himself for Emma, he redeemed himself because he wanted to be better and Emma made him believe that it was possible for him to be so.

3. Wish Hook’s redemption arc wasn’t inherently better just because a ship wasn’t involved.

Later, when Killian becomes The Dark One, he gives in to the darkness entirely very quickly. He's willing to send the woman he loves and her friends to The Underworld. When he chickens out of his plan because he still loves Emma, he's called a hero. How is he a hero for sacrificing himself to stop an evil scheme that he was causing? If you want to kill someone but change your mind, you aren't a hero for saving that person's life. You're just not as bad as you were before. It's noble to turn yourself over to the cops afterward, but again, it doesn't make you a hero.

First off, notice how she’s once again ignoring how/why he “became the Dark One” and how that affected him giving in. And secondly, Regina is placed higher above Hook on this redemption ranking list, and her entire redemption was only possible because she was going to sacrifice herself to stop an evil scheme that she (and she alone, unlike with Dark Hook) was causing in 2x22! They even called her a hero for doing so! If you weren’t pissed off about that, you have no business being pissed off about this unless you have an irrational bias.

Regina's backstory was truly tragic. She was abused and manipulated by her mother her entire life, culminating in the murder of her boyfriend.

That’s a sympathetic backstory, not a tragic one. The rest of her backstory was tragic.

Regina's redemption arc was not rushed. It was drawn out as we watched the character grow, realistically backslide slightly, and then, with the support of her new family, find her way to proper redemption.

“Realistically backslide slightly”!? Did you just block out what she actually did / attempted to do in 2B? That’s why many people can’t get behind the whole “support of her new family” part; because she only got a place in that family after almost murdering them all and trying to force Henry to stay hers like a possession. This is why the whinging about what Dark Hook did that got forgiven rings false, especially when that had deeper context for why it happened whereas Regina’s only excuse for her turn is “those damn heroes dared suspect me, a known mass murderer, of murdering someone! I have no other choice but to murder them all now!”

Some have argued that her redemption is more about getting what she wants, i.e., a relationship with her son, than showing genuine remorse. She doesn't want to do better because she believes it's right. She wants to do better because if she doesn't, she loses Henry. Regina may have ostensibly switched sides, but she occasionally crosses the line, such as when she stole Belle's heart to manipulate Rumple. Whether or not Rumple deserved that is debatable, but did Belle? I should think not! There are also things she's never been held accountable for, such as raping and murdering Graham. In 5x23, Regina goes so far as to call her past evil self an alter-ego known as The Evil Queen; she attempts to split herself off from that part of herself. The Evil Queen was never an alter-ego. Regina only has one personality, and she needs to own her choices.

YES. That’s all correct! So you rank her redemption so highly why, exactly?

Say what you will about Hook and Rumple, but both of their redemption arcs had them deviating from their initial goals and giving up their ill-gotten gains in order to make things right for others. Regina kept all she gained from villainy and her mission statement from right before ripping her father’s heart out to enact the Dark Curse - “I just want to be happy” - never changed. It was still all for that goal; she merely changed her methods of achieving it.

On Rumple:

I'm not badmouthing Rumple. I actually think he's pretty great; I'm a Dearie, through and through.

And therein lies the problem - far too many Dearies accentuate the positives of the character and let that define their view of him; which is a stark contrast to Robert Carlyle’s own views.

The show had a family of protagonists and two big, scary antagonists. One was The Evil Queen, the main villain of the Snow White story. The other was Rumpelstiltskin, a wild-card that left the audience scratching their heads. He was a mystery. Both characters had the potential to be the great villain of the series. Then we learned the key differences between the two. (*proceeds to say Rumple was doing it all for his son while Regina was doing it for revenge*)   Given those two descriptions, if you had to pick someone for the big bad of the series, who would you pick? I think it was supposed to be The Evil Queen, and I think the show was written with that intent.

Um, no. Absolutely not. Rumple, no matter how sympathetic you found him compared to Regina, was clearly set up as the Big Bad of the series from the pilot and subsequent episode. He was the true mastermind behind the Dark Curse, and 1x02′s end scene screamed “this guy’s even worse than Regina”, something even Henry acknowledged in 1x08, an episode that officially revealed Rumple’s status as the Dark One. Why on Earth would some random evil queen with magic powers be a bigger villain than the Dark One?

He was willing to ruin and corrupt others to do so, but he also made David a prince, and helped him wake Snow White from a sleeping curse. He was always interfering in people's lives. Sometimes he did nasty things. Sometimes he helped. He was morally ambiguous, but the story could not unfold without him. He was deeply tied to all of their lives, and many of them might never have been born nor found love without his interference.

No. There is no “moral ambiguity” to Rumple. All of his helpful actions were motivated by his own self-interest that was ultimately going toward the evil objective of getting the Dark Curse cast, which would screw over all those characters he helped be born or fall in love. And while he was behind the Savior clause, this also came along with his plan to bring magic to Storybrooke, which further screwed everyone over just so that he could get what he wants.

Well, the rumor is, Regina was supposed to be the big evil on the show. She was meant to be sympathetic, but it had not been planned to give her a redemption arc. Then, the show got a lot of flack for being "anti-adoption." They didn't want to send that message.  Lana Parilla fought for Regina to get a redemption arc on Season 2, and the trajectory of the show was changed forever.

This rumor has been thoroughly debunked by now. Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis actually created the show through the viewpoint of the Evil Queen, and her getting her happy ending was the true core objective from the beginning. They even called making viewers forget about all of her crimes and be furious at the heroes for not easily accepting her redemption as they logically should a “victory” and “the greatest thing ever”. Lana Parilla fought for a better relationship between Henry and Regina in Season 2; the redemption arc was always planned regardless of that happening because Regina is A&E’s pet character.

Rumple prophesized this big, Final Battle to come when the curse breaks. This was more or less forgotten after the curse, until Season 6, when the battle is fought between Emma, Rumple's mother, and Rumple's son. Basically, the Final Battle comes back around to Rumpelstiltskin. And he gets redeemed! Yea! Except that this wasn't the first time he was redeemed, nor would it be the last.

It should’ve been the last, though.  Also, the Final Battle was a retcon; in its original context he was clearly talking about the final battle against the Evil Queen, which thanks to his own interference in bringing magic to town would also draw in him, her mother, and his father!

The fact that Rumple exited the show a hero, combined with what we know about his actions and motives from the beginning would imply his character was always expected to be redeemed. And if Zelena can be redeemed, why not Rumple?

This notion she has that Zelena is more heinous than Regina and Rumple is hilarious. 

Maybe because he was, in fact, redeemed. In 3x11, Rumple sacrificed himself to save the town. He'd found love with Belle, and he'd reconciled with his son. He gave his life for them, his grandson, and everybody else in Storybrooke. Yea! He's redeemed. But wait, he's dead? Noooo!!!!That was my reaction, and likely the reaction of many fans. Rumple was a very popular character, both for those who loved him and for those who loved to hate him. He was also very useful. He was powerful, and he was clever. He understood magic, and he had pertinent information about nearly every character the leads ever came across. The show couldn't function without the man who had been puppeteering things for 200 + years, and they knew it. They needed to bring him back.

All of this is true; just felt like throwing her another bone.

Prior to his death, it seemed that Kitsis and Horowitz were setting Neal up to be Emma's True Love. It made sense from a story perspective. However, Killian and his flirtation with Emma were very popular among the fans.  The fan theory is that due to that popularity, the idea was to get Neal out of the way so they could give fans what they wanted. They didn't think Emma could end up with Killian if Neal was alive, so Neal needed to die.

Again, a thoroughly debunked theory. Neal was never being set up as Emma’s True Love, just her old flame, and the decision to kill him off had nothing to do with Emma/Hook and everything to do with Rumple and how to bring him back and spark his relapse into villainy, plus the fact that Michael-Raymond James just wasn’t feeling the show and wanted out.

Rumple had Belle, but nobody else seemed to give a flying monkey about him. All the other leads were then heroes, and he was a man who had just lost nearly everything. As the story moved forward, Rumple had fewer and fewer reasons to be good.

Oh boy, here we go. Let the Draco in Leather Pantsing commence!

Hook chose to blackmail Rumple. He threatened to tell Belle that after months of being enslaved by Zelena, the woman who killed his son, Rumple didn't give up his freedom again. And he killed Zelena. Rumple struck back, and all hell broke loose because, of course, those children couldn't play nice for five minutes.

The blackmail choice happened because Rumple was already refusing to help his supposed family and their new friend Elsa out when they needed it, and Rumple easily could’ve avoided it by just being honest with Belle. Of course, then Hook got cocky and stupidly tried to garner a second, more personal sort of favor from the blackmail, and he rightly paid the price for it.

Once the truth came out, everyone conveniently forgot that Rumple died for them, lost his son, was a slave, and that he was "family." He was in mourning, suffering from PTSD, and he had almost no support. Hook goaded him, and Rumple backslid. Instead of hearing his side or considering there may be more to the story, the heroes cast him as the villain in their lives.

First off, Rumple had backslid before Hook blackmailed him - he already had sinister plans for the Sorcerer’s Hat, and was immediately willing to cooperate with the Snow Queen. Secondly, they did not forget about any of that; Emma brought it all up in 4x08 to show support and trust for Rumple - as he was in the process of tricking her into walking to her doom, mind you. It was Rumple who showed he didn’t care about them (aside from Henry purely due to the connection to Neal); there’s no “hearing his side of the story” after learning he colluded with someone out to kill them all and had responded to his PTSD from being enslaved by gleefully enslaving someone else, Hook, and ultimately trying to murder him on top of that, which is as disproportionate a response to Hook’s initial blackmail as you can get and is going back on the terms he had already set for the blackmail he put on Hook in turn. Rumple cast himself as the villain in their lives because Rumple chose to be a villain again.

As the show continued, they continued to take that attitude with him. When something went wrong, they either tried to blame him for the trouble, or they tried to bully him into fixing it because, after all, they're "family."

Lol, most of the time he was in fact responsible for the trouble, and it’s laughable to say they tried to “bully him” when he’s the one who had all the power...again, all by his own choice.

In the end, he sacrificed himself to save his former enemy and finally got to die. It's the ultimate redemption. And it was great to see. But you know what would have been better?  If he could have come back from his first redemption and been brought back to life without losing his son, one of his main reasons to try. Then we could have seen him try, and succeed, to be better, for more than just Season 7.They could have made that happen if they really wanted to.

Sure, but they didn’t because for most of the writers and for Robert Carlyle, that wasn’t in the nature of the character. They didn’t want him to try and succeed to be better. To them, it’s like if Walter White stopped breaking bad. Given all that he’s said about the character, I doubt Robert Carlyle was even personally on board with his Season 7 redemption arc. He still played it well since he’s a professional, but if were up to him it wouldn’t have happened.

They could also have left him dead. Let him die as a hero instead of backsliding as a villain.

Admittedly, that would have been great too. Alas, it was never to be.

Even when Rumple got his final redemption, it was in defeating a version of himself from the WishRealm. Rumple was still expected to play the villain, even when he was also the hero. This character, who was built for a redemption arc, deserved better than being tossed back into the villain pile because they needed a bad guy. Sadly, it seems like that is what happened.

No, that’s not what happened. He was not “built for a redemption arc”; that was you seeing what you wanted to see. He was always supposed to be the main Big Bad and ultimately the Final Boss, regardless of how that happened. A&E did, in fact, screw him up, but not in the ways that you’re positioning. They screwed him, and many other things, up by not having a solid plan and ending point in mind, not because they didn’t have him do what you wanted.

From this book:

And there you have it...dearie.

#Once Upon a Time #ABC #Fandumb #Stupidity #Objection #Correction #Defense #Redemption #Hypocrite #Double Standards #Draco in Leather Pants #Ron the Death Eater #This has been a PSA #Anti-OUAT #Anti-A&E #Anti-Regina #Anti-Regina Mills #Anti-Rumple #Anti-Rumpelstiltskin

[theburdenofresponsibility]

Severus Snape and the Burden of Responsibility - Chapter 1 - The Boy Who Lived

masterpost || next chapter

warnings: minor character death (happens off screen, snape sees the bodies)

read on AO3 | word count: 2,383

--

Severus Snape was a flawed man. He knew he was a flawed man. In fact, he almost took pride in being so deeply flawed because, after all, wasn’t that what made him interesting? Before joining the dark side he’d been no one - a vaguely-traumatised nobody, the subject of bullying, Snivellus Snape, a footnote in the lives of the Marauders. A friendless, unloved nobody. Doing this, taking up this place in the war… he finally felt like somebody - an asset to the cause, a talented potions master, a Death Eater, a trusted follower. He had a purpose like this. And, if he didn’t have friends, at least he had focus. Who needed friends, anyway?

Perhaps, unbidden, from time to time, a girl with red hair the colour of sunrise and dazzling green eyes flashed in his mind, but Severus would still rather not have a friend in her. Severus hated Lily Evans, and he loved her too. It was a complicated, disgusting, enthralling thing. He loved her brightness, how she burned bright like a fire - terrifying, beautiful. He loved her kindness, and goodness, and acceptance when deserved. And he loathed it. He loathed that she was so good and he was so bad. Loathed that she could so easily fall into love, and he was stuck here, pining after the idea of that ‘perfect’ life so out of his reach. He loathed that, while he knew he adored this life - loved it, needed it - she could still cast that flickering shadow of a doubt with her brilliance. He hated that she chose James, and light, and life while he festered in death, and darkness, and the decay of this poisonous life he so thrived in like some freak of nature. Hated it and was relieved by it; Lily had only ever been meant for the golden sunlight of goodness, and to take up the mantle against the Dark Lord.

Severus Snape hated and adored Lily Potter.

He had ignored that fact for so long that he had almost forgotten it. He pushed it aside, like those occasional pangs of guilt, of shame, when he knew what his work would do, would mean . He ignored the pang of guilt, of the weight of some child’s life on his conscience, as he told the Dark Lord of the prophecy and revelled in the welcoming presence of wickedness that enveloped him. After all, wickedness welcomes apathy - welcomes disconnect. In the comfort of his own inner evils, his own dark nature, Severus could detach himself from the shame of his actions, from the humiliation of his past, from the years at Hogwarts and the years before. The sick pleasure of the silence was all he could ever have asked for.

…And then it was gone.

Wave after wave of crashing panic, hatred, despair, guilt, humiliation, terror, shame shame shame. He was lost in it, swept beneath the surface of a thrashing sea, currents pushing him further from stability, from control, from the still waters of apathy. He was drowning in it, all this repressed emotion forcing through the dam he had built and in that moment he had never hated Lily Potter more, and yet loved her as fiercely as ever.

He needed it to stop. He needed to put himself to rights, to breach the surface, to breathe again and remain so, no matter the struggle. Walls in his mind to keep out a Dark Lord whose presence was no longer a reprieve but a curse he had thrust upon himself. Desperate pleas to an old man who could help him reach the water where each wave did not threaten to pull him further under.

“Hide her.”

And he did.

And it wasn’t enough.

Severus Snape was a flawed man. He was not a great friend, nor a great spy, nor emotionally controlled. He was a man drowning in panic, too distressed and focused on hiding that fact that he missed the most obvious of signs. So distracted he hadn’t known until it was too late, even though he could have- should have. 

When he heard of the attempt, he didn’t even think, just apparated to the house in Godric’s Hollow. Damn Albus Dumbledore and his plan, damn his safety, damn the fact he hated the Potters and the feeling was mutual. With a crack he found himself on the road outside the Potters’ home. Neighbours were yelling, screaming in a panic. No less than three people were shouting for someone to call the police, the fire department, someone. It was clear to see why; the right side of the top floor had been blown apart. Severus could not tell if the wailing was entirely from the neighbours or from someone up there, still trapped.

With that thought, he rushed forward, ignoring alarmed shouts. Let the neighbors and the muggles think he was insane, suicidal, whatever. If there was any chance that Lily-

Potter’s corpse was the first he found. In the hall, slumped on the floor, eyes open and unseeing. His glasses were cracked, knocked askew as he fell. The sight had nausea rolling in his stomach. This man had held such power over him for so much of his life, and yet there he lay, empty and lifeless like some twisted doll. Severus shuddered, forcing his feet to carry him over the body. Potter had been by the stairs; Lily must have escaped upstairs while he distracted the Dark Lord. With any hope, the woman had been wise enough to apparate away.

Please, let her have apparated away.

The door to the bedroom was open. Rubble was cast across the floor, flames licked up the ruins of a bed. A child was crying.

Desperate now, filled with a sickening hope that maybe Lily would be there comforting Potter’s child. Maybe she’d escaped. Maybe-

She was lying face down, hair pooling around her head, matted with dirt. Blood sluggishly welled from gashes in her pale skin left behind by the explosion. 

Severus’ knees buckled. His breath left him in a huff, one that felt raw against his throat. His eyes burned, from smoke or tears he could not say.

“No,” he croaked, moving forward, rolling her over, pressing trembling fingers to her neck desperately despite her glass-eyes stared. “No.”

He changed his grip, pushed her hair aside, but could feel nothing but the trembling of his own limbs and the mocking thmps from his own heart. He pressed harder, checked for breath, brought his ear to her chest. Nothing. Lily Potter, Lily Evans, the only true friend he had ever known, was dead.

“No,” he moaned, bringing her close, rocking himself like some despairing child. “Lily, no.”

At another sharp burst of wailing, Severus looked up. The Child was still there, in its crib, narrowly having escaped the collapse of the ceiling above it. Tears and snot were running down its pudgy face, blood trickling from some wound to its forehead and another to its shoulder.

“She died for you,” he whispered, realisation dawning. “She died for you! Why on earth should she die for you? Why you? Why would Potter’s spawn survive but not Lily? You-!”

The wailing grew louder, The Child’s face screwed up as it bawled and bawled and bawled . But even through that, Severus could see those same startling green eyes. He tore his gaze from it - the last remnants of Lily - to the woman in his arms.

Teeth grit, he glared at her.

“Fine,” he snarled. “You died for it. I bargained for your safety and all it bought was The Child ’s. Fine. If that’s what you wanted, fine.”

Little droplets landed on her pale face and, with a shock, Severus realised he had been crying. Furious, he scrubbed a hand across his cheeks.

“Fine,” he growled once more, before laying her cooling body down on the floor.

He hesitated, and then he pressed a fleeting kiss to her forehead. Gentle. Barely any touch. A quick goodbye to what had been before he surrendered himself to the future it had bought.

The Child was still crying when Severus stood, it was still crying as he crossed the room and as he - reluctantly - pulled the burden into his arms. Holding it far from his chest, he looked it over. The cut on its forehead was bad, that would need tending to, but the rest was mostly superficial. A few bruises, the blood on its shoulder from a graze, nothing more. Hungry, confused, scared, hurt.

Gritting his teeth against the revulsion that swept through him at cradling Potter’s child so closely, Severus pulled The Child onto his hip. It was hard to leave the room, to leave Lily’s body behind. It was easy to traverse the rest of the house, to step over Potter and out over the threshold. In fact, within five minutes, Severus was already down the road, the yelling already fading save for the sobbing child in his grasp.

A crack split the air, making Severus whirl around. The Child wailed unhappily at the motion, but Severus paid it no mind. There, in front of him, was Albus Dumbledore.

“Severus,” the man greeted with a nod.

“You failed.”

The man raised his eyebrows. 

“You failed,” Severus reiterated. “You promised you’d hide her - them - and-“

“And I did just that,” the man reminded, voice carefully steady. Severus could not tell if Albus was hiding his upset or was just truly apathetic. “I hid the Potters, volunteered to be their Secret Keeper for the Fidelius charm. They chose another.” He cast a glance back in the direction of the house, and the growing sound of sirens. “It would appear they chose wrong.”

“Who?” Severus demanded.

“Sirius Black.”

Severus’ jaw set. Of course. Black. Severus would kill him.

The Child fisted a hand in his robes, shrieking once again. Severus’ lip curled in distaste, upper body leaning away from the writhing creature and drawing Albus’ attention.

“I see you have saved young Harry from the wreckage,” the man remarked. 

“What happened?” Severus asked despite himself. 

“Lord Voldemort-“ Severus flinched “-tried to kill young Harry and the result was rather… explosive. It seems, and correct me if I am mistaken, Lily Potter gave her life in protection of her son.”

Severus gave a sharp nod and Dumbledore’s mouth twitches upwards in a rueful smile.

“A rather old kind of magic - one Lord Voldemort would not concern himself with - saved our young Harry. When Lily sacrificed herself out of love for her son, she protected him from harm. Voldemort’s spell rebounded, from right there on his forehead unless I am mistaken, and the result was disastrous.”

“Is he gone?”

“For now, it would seem,” Dumbledore conceded. “Now all that is left is to reassemble the Wizarding World. Starting, I dare say, with reuniting young Harry here with his family.”

“Who?” Severus asked, unconsciously holding The Child closer, desperate not to part with the last living remnants of Lily.

“I believe Lily had a sister - a Petunia Evans, or Dursley now, it would seem. Harry will be safe there. Lily’s sacrifice will be withheld in her sister's shared blood and blood wards-“

“No.”

“No?” Dumbledore questioned, eyes sparking with curiosity. 

“The Child will not be going to Petunia, she was a dreadful girl and no doubt an awful woman. She’s not even a witch.”

“And yet, she is the only family he has. Where else would you put him?”

“I’ll take it - The Child, I mean.”

“You?” Dumbledore asked, eyes widening in surprise behind his glasses. “I’m not sure that would be wise. With the Wizarding World against you, how could you raise a child? Not to mention you are unprepared and likely to be facing trial forthwith for your own actions in the war-“

“You can deal with that,” Severus snapped. “I know full well you can. You owe me; I served as your spy at great risk to my own safety in return for Lily’s and you did not manage that.”

“You turned spy for me with the promise I would do all in my power to hide the Potters from Lord Voldemort and that is exactly what I did. They placed their faith in the wrong man when they entrusted Sirius Black, but I had taken every precaution available to me to prevent such an eventuality,” Dumbledore explained, an edge of warning in his voice. “I have repaid my half of the bargain, and will speak as such, but I am not in your debt, Severus.”

He was right. Severus knew he was right. Albus Dumbledore owed Severus nothing, and, with the Dark Lord vanquished, what use was Severus of? There was nothing he could do, no way he could bargain.

Panic reared its ugly head once more, crashing down upon him, flooding his lungs. He could not lose this. He could not lose all of Lily, of the easy way life had once been for that brief time in his youth. Severus needed to do this - both as an apology to her and as a final selfish act of a heartless man. Even if he did not care for The Child, he could not lose this.

“Please,” he begged. “I’ll do anything you ask, be in your debt. I’ll owe you eternally, Albus- just don’t take this opportunity away from me.”

The man considered him for a moment, the wrinkles in his face deepening with his thoughtful frown. Slowly, something seemed to shimmer in his eyes. That telltale twinkle of Dumbledore’s plan, the same twinkle that had appeared when Severus had thrown himself on his mercy before.

“Okay,” he agreed. “I will fight for your freedom and guardianship over young Mister Potter. In return, I would ask that you return to Hogwarts, when the school is fit to resume, and take up the mantle of Potions Professor - I recall you were quite the gifted student.”

Severus blinked. This was the old fool’s requirement? A job when Severus would likely be turned away from any other type of employment would only be another gift, even if he was stuck teaching insufferable children. He almost laughed at the absurdity of it all.

“I agree.”

Dumbledore’s grin widened.

“Then I shall leave you for now, Severus,” he said. “Expect my owl within the coming year.”

#severitus #fic: ssatbor

[darkvindr]

His duty rests on the edge of his sword.

As a member of the Order of Knights led by Beidou, his main job is to protect and entrust his life to clients in need of them. It was an unbearable responsibility that chained him to unknown lands for certain periods of time, and currently, he was at the pinnacle of his career. Kazuha yearned for nothing more than the foreign path of an adventure, but he had a more important moral dilemma, being his job.

In the midst of that dilemma, however, something improbable happened.

As if the gods were punishing him for impertinence, Kazuha was assigned as guardian and protector of a princess from distant lands. The princess was betrothed to one of the Yashira Commissioners, Kamisato Ayato, in a marriage that would connect nations in the future. It was not so complex to adapt to a routine that would be predictable, being a job he was not unfamiliar with, but still, nothing prepared him for the fall. He was not warned in any manual, much less informed in advance, of the events he would face.

You.

Kazuha expected many things from a princess, except someone like you. You came to him like cherry blossom petals at the change of season, soft against his skin, and bright under the mantle of the sun. You had a particularly infectious smile, and an aura that pulled everyone to adore you. You were the palace's lotus flower, and over time, you had become his — almost fairytale-like, enchanting the heart of a samurai navigator unfamiliar with the settlement.

Soon, you began to pull him to tea evenings, or to nocturnal escapades in castle passages. You encouraged him to practice the art of dancing, and submit to the pleasures of reading. You took him to the edges of his knowledge, where a pen and paper were his companion, scrolls and scrolls of poetry dedicated to a vessel that could not receive them.

His duty as a knight was to take care of you until the day your future betrothed claims your hand, and he knows this to perfection. Beidou stressed to him on multiple occasions that becoming attached to their recipients would never bring any good, and he always thought he would be cautious enough to avoid it. It would be impossible for someone like him to put professionalism aside, being someone who takes the aspects that his responsibility brings very seriously.

When the palace was rocked by the information that Kamisato Ayato would be visiting in a few days, however, he couldn't help the hatred that coursed through his veins.

Was it sickening to feel like this?

It was the first occasion he had imagined the edge of his blade at someone's throat. It is the first occasion that his hands have trembled with anger, and his fist has slammed against the glass of his room. It's the first time he's been devastated, pacing endlessly in his chambers, wondering if it wouldn't be simpler to kill the aforementioned and make it look like an accident. 

Or rob you before he does.

His usually calm, glitter-laden eyes have lost their usual intonation, narrowing to two calculating rubies, unable to let you out of their sight. As much as he wants to be an ineffable, capable and ideal knight, his mind has become plagued with idiocy. He has begun to dream of you with tears in your eyes, his cock in your soft mouth. He has begun to fantasize in the middle of the night about slamming you against the little table where you did your make up every morning, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror while he has one hand on your stomach, marking you with his cock. He has begun to see you in a light that underscores possessiveness — where your warmth overwhelms only him, and no one else.

Kazuha thinks it's a tragedy, these one-sided, forbidden feelings. He is seething in the lurking darkness of jealousy, his calm features reduced to solemn expressionlessness when his feet have guided him to the peacefulness of your chambers, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

There are multiple costly gowns in every expanse of the cabin, jewelry from every province, and objects plated in gold with diamonds. He knows it's anticipation of your fiancé's arrival. 

(For some reason, that just makes his mood even more deplorable.)

“Princess.”

He calls to you, closing the door behind him. The moment you turn to see him, the emotion visible on every expanse of his face, a shudder runs through his body. He hates him. He advances a footstep toward you. He wants to destroy him with his bare hands. Hands behind his back. He's going to bathe in his blood.

“It's time for your evening walk. I thought you might want to visit the garden.” The garments of his uniform cling to his complexion, black forging every muscle, fresh bandages on his knuckles and abdomen. There is a small gauze on his cheekbone, the hardened features remaining unchanged. It's the first time he hasn't forged a smile, and he can see it unnerves you. It is inevitable, then, as he is currently burning with envy. “Commander Beidou informed me that once you begin your union in marriage, I will be transferred to another division.” He added, cutting gaps with your body, his height giving him enough authority to look down on you from above. His white hair fell messily down his face, one palm on your shoulder, the other on your lower lip. He ran his thumb over the area. “Pardon my intrusion. Some of your lipstick was smeared.” How he wished the cause was his cock in your throat. He distanced his hand, as if touching you was akin to burning in the flames of hell. “I am sure that once you marry young master Kamisato Ayato, you will not require my presence. You will be safe.”

No. Truthfully, you won't be.

No one can protect you like him. No one deserves you as much as he does. No one can be like him.

“Yet, still, I find myself delusionally hoping…”

A prolonged sigh left his lips, and he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. May you be mine once and for all, he forgot to mention. May you be mine and no one else's. 

I don't want you to be someone else's. 

I can't let you be someone else's.

“... Do you wish for me to escort you?”

Offering you his arm was the only thing he could do.

And in the process, he hoped he wouldn't lose his train of reason. Because if Kazuha loses his reasoning completely, he knows the consequences well enough.

He just prays to the Gods you don't tempt him.

(Temptation is such a fickle little thing, and he finds succumbing not unappealing. At all.

But, for your fiancé, such things are to fear, as he might kill him.)

Kazuha.

Night falls penetrating the large windows that adorn her room in the big castle, the tender moonlight kissing the wooden floor and part of her bed as she looks at herself in the mirror on the small table. There is a certain sadness and disappointment reflected in her features as she looks at herself, but it is as if nothing has changed.

This is not what I want. She repeats over and over, at the verge of salty tears.

Countless nights rolling on the sheets of her bed without being able to sleep, questioning why this had to be her life, why she did not have the option of being free and being able to choose, but it was the curse of being the eldest sister of the family and the legitimate heir to the throne. To have to take someone's hand forcibly for the simple fact of reigning and uniting lands and thus being able to prosper. Bullshit. Absolute bullshit.

But it was the price I had to pay for living up to the expectations of the family, always trying to please others just to see a smile on their faces, not to hear complaints or have to fight or say anything about it. Trying day and night to be the perfect daughter figure, trying to do everything to the letter but... for what? To live a life she didn't even want, with someone she didn't even love just because her parents wanted her to?

Her eyes shift from her reflection to the ring resting around her ring finger, and she feels a churning in her stomach as she looks at it, contempt reflected in her eyes to the point that it forces her to take it off and leave it on the rustic wood.

Her fiancé, Ayato, he was a good man, a prince from a distant land, kings friend of her parents who since they were in diapers had planned the long awaited union, you could say he was the perfect boy. He brought her flowers whenever he visited her, and made sure the letters arrived safe and sound, little poems written on an old leaf that could take anyone's breath away, he was good, and she was sure he could be a good king, a husband even, but... it wasn't what she wanted. It wasn't him.

She still remembers when she was first introduced to him, never in her life had her heart beat so hard at his figure, managing to take the breath completely out of her lungs and she still remembers the way the heat rose quickly to her cheeks, forcing her to swallow hard. Pure muscle memory that moment when her hand touched his and a current of electricity hit them lightly, smiling shylt at the little spark.

And since that day it's been just sleepless nights, in the dimness of her room thinking about the young man who escorted her every night to her room. Playing with myself at the mere thought of his rough hands running over every inch of her body, soft lips kissing the expanse of her skin making her sigh his name and nothing but his name with every calculated touch.

A smile spreads across her face at the thought of the young man, and just as she finishes applying her makeup and rising from the comfort of her chair, the aforementioned stands in front of her. "Kazuha.", voice trying to hide the palpable excitement. "Yes please, let's go. It's been a while since we went there.", her eyes scan every inch of his features, trying to memorize every detail and enjoy the sweet sound of his voice.

Heart flipping the moment his thumb makes contact with her lips, and for a millisecond she imagines sucking on it, but instantly recomposing herself. "Yeah...," a lump forms in her throat at your words. "I wish you could stay by my side — just a little bit longer. I don't think I'll ever find someone like you.", she says this last whispering more to herself, praying you haven't heard her as she wraps her arm around yours, feeling your muscles tense under her grip and slowly begins her calm walk.

The only thing you hear in the background are both of your footsteps, candles adorning the long, grand corridors of the establishment as you make the familiar walk. There is a sepulchral silence adorning the atmosphere, and a heavy sigh is the only thing that comes from within as she rests her cheek on your shoulder, looking up at you. "I missed this." You.

She just hopes she could find the right moment to say everything but... would you feel the same?

#kazuha.txt

[madchild-dennis]

How could I forget my 4 beauties

Yes, as I said here:

I'll have so much VERY SOON and be able to share it with Mr. Future Bae. #excitingthingsahead

I will also have that with my 4 BEAUTIFUL children.

I love em yuh si 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍

My poor lil heart. I love them so much.

Ok I'm going to share when my heart fell in love with those 4 children.

So I met them in 2020. Well the 2 oldest ones. I didn't really remember them so much because I was closer to some other children that year. Those seen and heard here:

However when I returned in 2021, I got closer with those those children, some others I didn't remember and my 2 oldest.

You see I met my oldest daughter first but she's the 2nd born. SHe was always assisted by those around because she is cute, obedient and agreeable. However I saw how many seem to like to cuss her out for the things her mother was responsible for. So when the others who'd help left, I took the mantle. I think she loved that I didn't cuss her. I saw her caution. I developed a love for her by caring for her the best I could. It was easy. I look forward to watching Shrek a MILLION times as she loves that movie.

Now the oldest who I became conscious about next was after I was caring for his sister. When I took responsibility while others watched and cussed out the child instead of help. Was when the parents was having their drama and may have involved him. One night the father came home drunk and cussed him out and threw out his stuff and destroyed his phone (what he needed for online school). This little boy found his way traumatized and lost on my porch. I think he knew he could trust me. So that night is when I learned he hadn't been to online class (covid time) in over a month. So I decided to help.

Then when I realize so many more problems. Some i don't want to share here. However basics is, mother gone (due to domestic quarrel) and father works all day to provide and they were left with grandmother but she leaves to work too. Point. he the boy at 9 was responsible for his 2-year old twin siblings and sis (who was staying by others/me most times). Hence why I made this video:

I thought those adventists, especially those who couldn't have children would love to help. BUT NOOOOOOOO. Then God says I must take ALL 4. By then I didn't know the twins or fall in love (as a mother) with them yet. I was just starting to fall in love (as a mother) for the oldest

Especially when I saw this boy more than past his exams that were coming up and important. I mean he wasn't in class, nor studied. I sat beside him and saw him connect dots from video games he played to understand his class tests. He was VERY SMART. I saw it and it was effortless. That made me want to help. However seeing him slowly learn to trust me was when my motherly instinct and love kicked in. I mean, he had school work and because he heard his sis was watching videos and more, I think he wanted to do the same (I didn't get access to her school work to help her there). But I put my foot down.

This boy ran off to his grandmother's house. I went by, NOT to force him, but to tell him food is at the house if he wanted it. He came back. Guess what as well. Next time he wanted his own way, I feared he would run every time. But he didn't. The distance shortened every time. The next time was the porch crying hysterically, then the corner of the living room, then it became a discussion on how unfair it was. Which I understood. However, he had to do his school work (I found work for his sister to do as well). That was FUN. I mean seeing him learn to trust me was MAGIC. Then I had to understand he feared getting beatings. Something he got OFTEN and severely.

After I helped him with his schoolwork, the people around were jealous and start to beat him badly if he went by me. By then I was ok helping from a far and I knew what God asked of me by then. I look forward to the future for his excited rants about Marvel Universe Films or watching them over and over again as he talk them out as it plays.

Now the twins. They were 2-years old that time. That's a young age. It was nice to know that they are potty trained already. However I feared them because toddlers can be a whole lot of WORK. and that's times 2. However I had them all one Saturday. I rarely had the twins. They were jumping off the walls. Well the boy mostly and when I sat him down he wouldn't listen. His sister, would follow him, but he was the instigator of adventure. I was trying to get something for the other ones to do, but the 2 babies as they are wouldn't stay seated. Pulling on the curtains, climbing things. I couldn't sit them down quietly. then I decided to take him up and carry them both outside. Then he was calm in my hand.

My heart melted when i took the closest thing I had (my phone) and started to read the bible. It was just Hebrews, and they both laid their heads on me. I was so broken almost in tears at their action. They just wanted a little love. Not reprimand. They just want a little attention and hug and cuddles. I nearly cried. I mean the boy twin did it again when he was afraid of the water on his face when I bathe them one of the day. Held me so tight like his life depended on it.

Those children just need a little patience and love.

That is what I'm so excited to give and know they'll appreciate it. even if it's not in the moment, but eventually.

So ya girl excited for her 4 children waiting on her and the FUTURE BAE that will LOVE and want to be with only her.

YEAP

#Youtube

[ozarkthedog]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 | Nomad!Steve Rogers

summary: You disobeyed Steve and now you must make it up to him.

warnings: SMUT. 18+ only. Nomad!Steve Rogers. Dom/Sub Relationship. Daddy Kink. “Little One” Nickname. Crying. Angst? Bondage. Degradation. Overstimulation. Forced Orgasms. Asphyxiation. Anal Play. Hitachi Belt. Spreader Bar. Aftercare.

word count: 3,057

author’s note: I started writing this last year and totally forgot about it. oops! 💙

📖 Master List

This work has Adult Content. By clicking “Keep Reading” you have agreed that you are over the age of 18 and are willing to view such content. My work is not to be copied or translated onto any other platform. 

“You didn’t do as you were told, so shut it.” Steve snarled with a harsh grip on your jaw.

He shoved himself away from you just as you began to weep. You let the tears fall freely, hating that you upset him so much.

Steve was seething as he stood in front of the fireplace, hands bracing on the mantle as his thoughts raced. Teeth clenched together in fury at the memory of finding you with your legs spread wide with fingers pumping away furiously in your cunt. He had to clear his throat twice in order for you to realize he was standing in front of you.

He was feeling savage. He wanted to teach you a lesson you’d never forget. He needed you to abide by his rules completely. You were his and he was yours. He’d never had someone he cared so much about and he intended on making this relationship work. No matter how difficult it was at times.

You stood nervously waiting for him to acknowledge you again. Fingers twisted together as you sniffed the remaining tears away. The thin white dress Steve insisted you wear at all times while home made you feel so exposed. The fabric could tear so easily just like the relationship you built with him.

But you were determined to not let that happen.

With Steve still looking away, you knelt down on the dark flooring. The wood solid beneath your trembling knees, “Daddy.” Barely a whisper but it made Steve cock his head to the side, listening.

You cleared your throat wanting to speak clearly, “Daddy. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disrespect you but sometimes I just can’t control myself.” The admission made you cast your eyes to the floor out of embarrassment. How could he love you?

Sniffling you carried on, “I will take any punishment you deem fit. I won’t talk back. I will take what you give me.” Your fingers dig into your thighs waiting with bated breath for his response.

Steve sighed watching the flames dance in the fireplace. The warmth from the flames mixed with his lust driven heat as he spied you kneeling on the floor. You looked so delicate. So easy to manipulate and dig his teeth into.

He bit his lip at the image of you writhing around in that pretty white dress he bought you. His blood began to boil.

Turning on his heel he stalks towards you, smirking as the perfect punishment comes to mind. “Little One…” Your head whips up quickly at his voice as he nears you, coming to a stop over your kneeling form.

“Follow me.” He commands and he turns towards the stairs making his way to your shared bedroom. You follow behind running slightly to keep up with his large gait. Steve holds open the bedroom door as you wait in front of him, trepidation flooding your system.

“Once you step over the threshold, I’m in control, completely. No crying, no whining, nothing will get you out of your punishment.” His stare holds yours. His authority washes over, drowning you in him.

Once again you repeat your words, “I will take what you give me, Daddy.” Your voice breaks as you call him Daddy, forever always wanting to call him that.

Steve grazes your cheek with the back of his finger lightly before letting his hand fall to your shoulder, pushing you into the bedroom. The sound of the lock clicking sparks excitement in your core as you wait at the foot of the bed for him.

Steve comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around you, “Sit on the bed and watch as I set things up.”

Steve only made you watch as he set out the implements he intended using on you when he was truly mad. You watched as he disappeared into the closet before reappearing with a set of high heels.

Your brow furrowed in wonder as he set the heels down at your feet before going back to the closet. You peered down at the extravagant pumps, red in color with an extremely high, stiletto heel.

You remembered he bought them for you a while back but they were so uncomfortable you could never wear them out. Your attention was disrupted when Steve set a leather belt of sorts with an extra loop on the bed along with an Hitachi wand.

He walked over to the “play wall” and attached 2 separate wrist restraints to the rings in the wall. Your heart rate picked up as his intentions were revealed.

He means to make you suffer.

His dark eyes lingered on yours for a moment before speaking. “I’m allowing the safe word, but only, and I mean only if you truly can’t go on.” You bit your lip as he spoke out the next commands.

“Take off your dress and put those heels on.” He nods down to the red stilettos waiting to be put to use. You stood on shaky feet, slowly unbuttoning the white fabric before slipping it off your shoulders leaving you bare to him.

Steve watched as you bent over, sliding your feet into the heels before standing tall and gathering your footing. The heels easily made you 4” taller as you stood waiting for his next command.

Already your ankles were starting to hurt. The awkward angle of the heels forced all your body weight onto your toes making them scream. Steve let you stand there a few minutes, enjoying your discomfort before continuing.

“Walk over to the wall and place your hands in the cuffs.” You sneak a glance at him before slowly making your way over. The heels made you so unsteady, you raise your arms out to the sides to balance as you walk at a snail’s speed.

“If you don’t pick up the pace, I’m going to drag you over there and I won’t be nice about it.” Steve grits with annoyance watching as you jolt mid step and almost topple over. Somehow you caught yourself and made your way to the wall as fast as you could.

You turn around facing Steve as you slipped your wrists into the restraints high above your head and waited patiently. “Good Girl.” Steve smirks walking over to you and then gathers the cuffs before pulling them tight against your wrists and locking you up.

“Now the real fun can begin. Are ready?” He turns to pick up the leather belt coming back with a grimace on his face, his tone laced with displeasure at having to repeat himself, “I asked are you ready, Little One?”

You gasp a reply once you realized he wanted you to speak, “Yes, Daddy.”

Steve huffed and shook his head, “You’re going to have to start paying attention better. This won’t be good for you if you’re already starting to slip.” He bends down helping you step through the leather belt and buckles it over your waist.

He steps back and gazes over your tied-up form. He always did enjoy tying you down and making you squirm. He palms at his growing hard on before stepping up to you, caging you against the wall with his massive body causing you to let out a breathy squeal.

He tips your head to look up at him. “You want to make this up to me? Then you’re going to work for it. I’m going to make you wish you never disobeyed me, Little One.” He lets his threat hang in the air as he walks back to the bed retrieving the Hitachi.

He attaches it to the leather belt and secures it against your already slick pussy. He scoffs, “Being in this predicament turns you on? God, what a slut.”

Your cheek heat with embarrassment as he nestles the wand head flush against your throbbing mound. Grunting aloud when he forces it over your clit harshly.

As he works on making it stay in place he speaks, “You’re allowed to scream, thrash about, cry, whatever. But you’re not allowed to ask me to take you out of these binds. You’re staying like this until I say otherwise.” You nod your head in compliance even though you were scared of the outcome. Granted, you knew he would listen if you safe worded but this wasn’t about that.

Steve needed to know he could trust you, he needed to know you’d listen to his every word and abide by it. So, you swallowed down your fear and raised your head, ready for whatever he chose to do to you. “Yes, Daddy.”

Steve smoothed his hands over your hips as he stood to his full height. The way your breasts jutted out from your arms being raised over your head called out to be fondled but Steve kept his lust hidden. This wasn’t about him right now.

He leaned down and turned the wand on, clicking it until it sped up to the 3rd highest setting. Your body instantly spasmed. The strong vibrations were unyielding and forced you to feel the pleasure.

Instinctively, your legs closed together trying to keep the powerful vibrations at bay. The wand swayed in the air but never left your core. The movement causes you to see stars as it jostles against your folds.

“What do you think you’re doing? Trying to thwart your punishment already?” His tone was deadly. “Don’t worry, I have the perfect thing.”

Steve wanders away leaving you in a withering mess as you teeter in the heels. Your breathing quickens as you feel your orgasm coming on quickly. You pull at the wrist restraints frantically, “Daddy! Please! I’m close!” You call out desperately for him, not sure if he’s allowing you to cum or not.

Steve shouts his reply from deep inside the closet, “Go ahead and cum, Little One!”

He murmurs to himself as he spies what he came looking for, “It’ll the first of many.”

You cum with a wail as the vibe makes you convulse against the bondage wall. Your pussy twitches around nothing as your thighs shake trying to dislodged the horrid wand from your sensitive core.

“Here you go.” Steve says with amusement as he kneels down wrapping a cuff around your left ankle.

You look down in shock as Steve lines up the other cuff to your right ankle before strapping it to the spreader bar. “Now there’s no possible way for you to ease your punishment.” The biggest smirk is planted on his face as another wave of forced arousal courses through you sending you up another blissful peak.

“Awe, is my little Slut already feeling sensitive? That was only one orgasm. If you think I’m letting you out after 3, you’re in for a world of hurt.” His voice was cold sending you careening towards another orgasm.

Your eyes slammed shut as the tingling sensation lit up your nerves and sent you crashing down with another hard orgasm.

You tried catching your breath as the vibe forces more pleasure from you. The restraints hold your arms up so well you couldn’t even move them around all they could do was quake against the wall.

Heavy, pained mewls fill the room as you pant wildly taking every vibration as best as you can.

“Look at you. You love this.” He laughs at your pitiful attempts of trying to not cum. He palms at your tense face, pinched with determination. “Oh, it must hurt. The over stimulation must be torture.”

Distress paints your features as he degrades you further, “But that little pussy of yours got you in trouble. Such a greedy, little hole.” He enunciates the curse word with a pop to your cheek before taking your jaw back in his grip.

You gasp at the painful sensation heating the side of your face as it mingles with your swollen, sensitive mound. “Daddy! I-” Your orgasm starts up again fueled by the assaults on your body.

His fingers dig into the sides of your cheeks as you topple off the cliff with a shout. His hand keeps your face still, pushing back on the wall behind you.

“That was 3, Little One. I want to tear 7 out of that cunt tonight.” His breath hot on your neck as he forces his body over you.

Your body shakes at his command. A ragged sigh escapes you feeling worn out already from the onslaught of torture.

Steve cants his hips up and into your body, pushing the Hitachi harder against your mound. “No! Oh! Da- ” You shake your head as you feel another orgasm slithering its way through your system.

Teeth gnaw at your neck, biting up and down the crook of the soft skin. His muffled moans fill your ears as he thrusts his growing hardon into the toy, in return causing you to tumble down another peak.

The forced orgasm makes your body lock up, tight and ridged as your knees start to buckle and you sag in the restraints. Steve feels you slide down, hanging by your wrists letting the pain and torturous pleasure take over.

“Hey, now. None of that.” He grasps the hair at the base of your neck and pulls until your steady on 2 feet. “Don’t give up on me yet. You still have 3 more to go.”

You stare at him with hazy eyes. Your mind foggy and filled with nothing but determination even though your body wants to give up.

Steve swipes his thumb over your lips before he leans in for a soft kiss. The feeling of his lips as they slide over yours sends a fresh heightened wave of bliss up your spine. You moan lewdly into his mouth as he laps at your tongue.

He enjoys watching your tired body respond to the new sensations. He pulls away as you whine from the loss. “Hush.” He says, sternly with a harsh smack to your breasts causing you to spasm and scream in your bonds as another orgasm is ripped from you.

Your muscle fibers feel aflame as you come down from your 5th orgasm that night. Your head whips from side to side, unconsciously wanting to put an end to this punishment. You’re a quivering mess, tugging at your binds out of necessity.

“Stop it. You can do this. Show me you can do as I say.” Steve says with a firm voice, encouraging you. “Make it worth all the pain.”

You sniffle and close your eyes as Steve blots at some fallen tears rolling down your cheek. You open your eyes just as his lips close around his salty digits with a husky, satisfied groan.

Gnawing at your bottom lip your try to distract yourself from the overwhelming pain burning through your core and dragging you over hot coals. Steve’s hands wrap around your body, forming over the fleshy globes of your ass and grinds his straining girth against your heated body.

“If only you were good, it would’ve been my cock dragging all these orgasms from you.” His teeth clash onto your clavicle, drawing blood to the surface with a sneer, “Instead, I’m just going to have rut against you as your cunt drools all over the floor.”

His fingers slide their way between your cheeks, rubbing tenderly over your puckered rim causing your eyes to roll back, hard. Breath hitches in your throat as you propel steadily towards another raw crest.

“Maybe I should take pity on you and open this hole up. You did always cum so easily with my fingers up your ass.” He gloats, tapping the tight right of muscle in quick succession eliciting a frantic wail from your lips as you tip over the tumultuous edge.

Your head lolled forward resting against his powerful chest as exhaustion takes over. Your will power was dying and you let the tears flow. “Daddy, I can’t.”

Steve shook his head, “Not when we made it this far. You’re not giving up.”  

A calloused hand locks tightly around your neck cutting off your carotid artery. In an instant your mind spins, brain desperate for blood flow as your vision becomes blurred.

You tug uselessly at your bindings. Body shaking, ready to implode and cave in on yourself. Your ankles give way and the heels fall from your feet making Steve crush you harder into the wall.

His lips brush against your swollen ones, his beard tickling your dewy skin. “So close, you’re so close. Give me what I want. Show me you how sorry you are.”

Darkness sweeps in as your mouth opens and closes like a fish desperate for water. Your body feels light as a feather, no longer could you feel the vibrations rustling your sopping core and your sore muscles ceased their tension as you give into the murky depths.

 A warm hand cups your cheek as a deep, soothing voice tempts you back from the sleepy haze. “Wake up, Little One.”

Your eyes flutter open and you find yourself in the comfort of Steve’s arms. A wet washcloth runs between your legs making you wince. Even the softest fibers felt like sandpaper as he cleans your swollen folds. “I’m sorry but just a little more and I’ll be done.”

You curl into his chest, unsure how to feel. Had you made him happy? You couldn’t remember orgasming the final time. The last image you had was Steve wrapping his hand around your throat.

You timidly swallow, feeling slight bruises pepper your jugular. Your throat raw from crying and screaming for the last hour. Steve set the rag down with a sigh and dropped his chin to look at you.

“Did I do good?” You bottom lip trembling with hope.

Steve runs a hand over tear-stained cheek and breathes out a soft chuckle, “You did. So good you passed out as you came all over me.” Steve tilts his head towards the pile of clothes currently stained with your arousal. “Made such a mess and showed me how good you are.”

Soft lips kiss your hairline and ease the stress you’d been holding ever since he found you touching yourself without his permission.

“I’m proud of you for being so strong. You made Daddy very happy.”  

Your eyes sleepily shut and you melt into the safety of his hold knowing everything would be ok.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #Chris Evans #steve rogers x you #steve rogers/you #steve rogers/reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers imagine #ozzie writes

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

One Night🌙11

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, angry Andy, hormones, awkward dinner, y’all know what it be.

This is dark!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: One night changes your entire life.

for @kittykatlow​‘s 200 Follower Celebration

Note: Okay, here’s an update.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You wore a black dress, barely loose enough to fit over your bump as the hem floated high in the front. Your forehead beaded with sweat as you took out the heavy glass pan from the oven and puffed. You set it down and removed the lid as steam clouded out. You heard your father’s voice from the living room and Andy’s baritone response.

The night was smooth so far. Your father was particularly impressed by the autographed baseballs on the mantle but never outspoken, the conversation didn’t stray much from sports or cars. Your mother’s posture and expression betrayed her discomfort but she masked it with a cordial tone. You were thankful for it as you didn’t need to deal with her attitude and Andy’s at once. You were too hormonal and tired for that.

You began to take down plates from the cupboard and your mother’s voice sounded from behind you. She neared and reached up next to you as she grabbed the next plate before you could. She stacked the four of them neatly and grasped them in her knobby hands.

“You’re too pregnant for that,” she said, “you grab the silverware.”

You gave a small smile and turned to open the drawer as she left you. You took out the utensils and followed her into the dining room. You set the table and she returned to the kitchen. You came after her and she used a dishcloth to lift the hot pan.

“Get the door, will ya?” she said as she angled around carefully.

She passed you as you held open the swinging door and she set the pan down on the mat in the middle of the table. She inhaled deeply and glanced over at you. 

“Stuffed peppers?” she asked.

“Your recipe,” you said, “I’ve been craving them.”

“Next time, let me make them,” she smiled, “you still don’t know the special ingredient.”

“I’ll figure it out one day,” you rubbed your lower back.

“Sit,” she pulled out a chair, “I’ll go get the men.”

You neared her and leaned on the back of the chair, “mom,” you said quietly.

“I’m trying,” she said grimly, “I’m just… not happy yet.”

You nodded and hung your head, “yeah, you don’t have to be, but thank you.”

“I don’t like that man,” she hissed, “a wife in the hospital and he’s knocking up a stranger--”

“Mom,” you warned her, “please.”

“I know, I know,” she shook her head, “but you’re my daughter and he’s… I don’t know, who knows what really happened to the wife.”

You gave her a look and she pursed her lips. She retreated and you sat down heavily and cupped your cheeks. All you had to do was get through dinner. Then you could say you were tired and hide in your room.

You heard her voice in the next room and the impending footsteps before they appeared in the doorway. Your mother and father sat across from you and Andy took the seat to your right. You waited awkwardly and he cleared his throat.

“Well, sweetheart, aren’t you going to serve the guests?” he intoned.

“I can do it,” your mother offered, “don’t make her work any harder than she needs to. Not in her condition.”

You were slightly taken aback by her effort but you didn’t miss how the corner of her lip twitched as she eyed Andy. She didn’t like and didn’t trust him. You couldn’t say you did either and almost for the first time in your life, you felt a kindred connection to your mother.

She stood and scooped a pepper carefully onto each plate with a generous spoonful of sauce from the bottom of the dish. She set them back carefully before each diner and returned to her chair and sat. She smiled, a forced smile, and shifted her chair closer.

“So, you have some time but… once the baby’s here, I’m sure you’ll be back to work,” you mother began, your father always content to hide in his food, “me and your dad talked, we could watch the kid once and a while--”

“She’s not going back to work,” Andy interjected, “especially not at the diner.”

“Oh,” your mother’s lips pressed together in a firm line, “she isn’t?”

“Maybe after a year?” you began as you glance at Andy, “once I get the hand of things--”

“No,” Andy said, “you’re staying home with her.”

“I guess we haven’t decided,” you offered calmly, embarrassed by Andy’s attitude, “as you said, we still have time and we’re figuring stuff out.”

“Once the kiddo’s in school, you’ll have the time to get a job,” your dad offered, “that’s what your ma did. She kept on a few hours here and there when you were real small but once you hit kindergarten, she was back to full shifts.”

“We’ll talk,” Andy threw a hand up and grabbed his fork with his other, “it’s really not your business. It’s ours.”

“Andy,” you chided, “they’re just curious--”

“And where were they for the last couple months?” he snarled, “they weren’t so curious then.”

“Alright, calm down,” you hissed, “sorry, mom, dad--”

“Don’t apologise for me,” he snipped, “they should be apologising to you. That’s why I welcomed them into my home.”

“What?” you gulped, “Andy, they don’t need to--”

“No, no, my child is gonna have at least one set of grandparents and if it’s going to be them, they’re going to respect you and me,” Andy insisted, “so they can apologise or they can leave without dessert.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you uttered.

“Don’t you tell me how to act,” he cut into the pepper, “so…” he looked across the table at your parents, “she made this delicious meal and I think she deserves at least a little appreciation from the two of you.”

You dad looked angry for once in his life as your mother’s lips curled in mortification. You gave them both a shameful look and shook your head just slightly. You mouthed an apology as Andy huffed and tapped impatiently on the table.

“We’re sorry, honey,” your mother began, “we overreacted. Just like I said earlier, I was surprised.”

“Sorry,” your dad forced out as he glared at Andy, “you know I always love and support you, no matter what.”

“Thank you,” you said softly, “now,” you touched Andy’s arm gently, “we can move on. It’s all good.”

“Mhmm,” he grumbled as he leaned forward to take a bike, “we can… but this doesn’t happen again.”

You wanted to shrink down and hide under the table. The tension that rose was palpable and threatened to choke you. You had false hope in the beginning that this might feel normal, that you might end the night with a new standing between you and your mother. 

You knew then that Andy’s goal had never been to bring you back together, it was only to gain another degree of control. He made it clear that no one could help you, not even your own parents.

🌙

You were almost thankful for the sink full of dishes. It kept you distracted and gave you a reason not to sit and stew with Andy. Your parents left shortly after you cut the cherry pie and you cleaned up as they bid their farewells. You were completely humiliated by Andy’s hubristic demands but you didn’t dare argue with him. Especially not in front of guests.

You scrubbed the dishes as your stomach pressed to the wet counter and placed each in the drying rack. Andy came in as you pulled the drain and you took the dish cloth from its hook.

“Here, I’ll dry,” he offered.

You stared at him and wiped the water from your hands and gave him the cloth. He went to the rack and opened a cupboard. You took out a container and began to pack up the leftovers from the pan and wrapped the top of the pie. The silence made every clink and clank louder as you moved around the kitchen.

You shut the fridge and sensed him behind you. You flinched as his hands settled on your hip and you gripped pressed your palm against the cool metal. He pulled you back against him and slid his hands around your bump as he hummed.

“Did I tell you this dress looks wonderful?” his fingers brushed the dishwater along the front.

“Andy,” you grasped his wrists, “what are you doing?”

He rocked you as one hand grazed beneath your bump and his fingers dangled over your vee. He bent and inhaled the scent of your scalp. You went rigid as he wiggled against your back, his arousal twitching tellingly.

“Andy, please--”

“Can’t knock you up a second time,” he purred.

“I… no, please, I’m tired--”

“Come on, honey, that night… wasn’t that amazing?” He turned you to face the island and you caught yourself against the edge, “that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“It was a mistake, alright? Look at us now--”

“Look at us, hmmm?” he pushed his hand down and cupped your cunt through your dress. You gasped and squeezed his wrist, “I lay in my bed thinking of you all night… and you’re just across the hall. Why are we playing this game still?”

“Get off of me, please,” you begged, “Andy--”

He pressed his fingers to your pants and pushed the cotton against your folds. You bit your lip as he found your clit and the chafing formed a pressure beneath his touch. You shook your head and leaned back into him, trying to shove him away.

“Let me go…” you breathed.

“Doesn’t that feel good?” he urged, “I can feel you getting wet already. You’re lying to yourself.” He pulled your panties aside and dipped two fingers between your lips, “why do you gotta be so damn stubborn?”

You sucked in air and tensed as he played with your bud so that your thighs quivered. You tucked your chin in and bit down as you tried not to let out a moan. Your nails sank into sleeve but he kept on. You felt how powerful he truly was, his chest pressed against you as his arm remained immoveable.

He bent you slightly as he snaked his hand further and poked a finger inside of you. You squeaked and he added another, curling them as he began to rock his hand. He buried his face into your neck and his hot breath permeated your skin.

“Mmm, isn’t that nice, honey? I just wanna help you relax?” his teeth grazed your neck, “I can be nice, you see?”

Those words turned your blood to ice. You closed your eyes as you returned to those hours ago when his fist crashed into the wall. When his voice was rigid and unloving, when you were certain he would do worse than just yell. Now he was all over you, coaxing you as if it never happened, as if there hadn’t been months of this precarious tug-of-war.

“Andy, really, I’m tired,” you pleaded, “that night… I told you--”

Your voice caught in your throat as he thrust his fingers deeper and moved his hand faster. The pressure throbbed inside of you, pulsing through your veins and you kept your hand tight on the counter as you gripped his arm with the other. Your ankles threatened to bend as you shuddered and came in a sudden rush.

“Tired?” he mocked as he led you through your climax, “I’ll do all the work, honey.”

You shook your head and whined through your teeth. He kept on until you were weak and clinging to his hand. He slowly drew his fingers out of you and slid his arm out from around you. You slumped against the counter as he let you go, the subtle tinkle of his belt gleaned in your ear.

You turned to him as his belt hung open and he caught you by surprise. He wrapped one arm around your back, his other hand across your ass as he lifted you with a grunt. You threw your hands back to keep from falling across the island as he put you down on the marble. You tried to slide forward as his hands grasped your hips and held you in place.

His blue eyes burned and dilated. He reached under your skirt and pulled your panties down. You whimpered as he tugged them down. He quickly pushed your legs apart and moved between them, your knees wide around his thighs. He grabbed your chin and tilted your head back, his lips covering yours hungrily.

You clawed at the front of his shirt as his other hand danced along your pelvis. His fingers crawled down your thigh and she shifted as he fumbled blindly with the front of his pants. You pushed against his shoulders as the panic erupted from your stomach and swelled in your throat.

He brought you closer to the edge and pulled his hand back to grip himself. You opened one eye as you tried to peek down but couldn’t see beneath your bump. He leaned on you until you fell over the marble and bent over you as he slipped his tip along your cunt. His lips strayed to your cheek and down to your throat.

“Andy,” you begged one last time as he pressed against your entrance.

He purred against your neck as his hand slid past your shoulder and stretched over your tit. He pushed into you slowly and you gulped as tears pricked in your eyes. You bent your legs so your heels pressed to the side of the counter and gritted your teeth as he got deeper. 

As he bottomed out, he rasped against your skin. He stood up straight and dragged your ass over the edge of the counter. He puffed his chest as he thrust into you and his eyes rolled back. He growled as he did it again and your walls clenched around him. Your reached down and pressed on his open pants with your fingertips, trying to push him away pathetically.

“Andy,” you whimpered as he hooked his arm around your thigh, “Andy--”

His other hand flipped up your skirt and he stretched his hand over your round stomach as he rocked into you. You shook your head and covered your face with one hand as you gripped the edge of the marble with your other. Your breaths grew shallow as you fought your own body and the pleasure blooming around his intrusion.

He sped up as the wet noise filled the kitchen and you bit the heel of your hand to keep from crying out. Another orgasm flowed over you and knotted your muscles around him. His groans and grunts grew louder as his flesh slapped against yours, his fingers drawing circles on your stomach.

“Oh fuck,” Andy hissed and jerked his hips harshly.

He sank into you as deep as he could go and wiggled his hips as he flooded you. He twitched as he leaned his head back and sighed, his fingers tight on your thighs as they painfully poked your tender flesh. You moaned and trembled as you felt his release hot inside of you. 

He stilled and let your legs splay around him. You stared at the ceiling in shock as he shuddered. You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked between your legs as his cum dripped out around him. You pulled off of him and shoved him away. He seemed to awaken from a trance as you did and his lashes fluttered.

You dropped down carefully to your feet and stormed away. He called your name but the vomit was already halfway up your esophagus. You weren’t going to make it upstairs. You closed yourself in the half-bath under the stairs and wretched into the sink. You held yourself up weakly until the violent ripples quelled. You looked at yourself in the mirror and winced. 

One night cost you the rest of your life. One night meant your body, your soul, your days were his. One night would be countless nights, your fate decided in a single careless act.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #series #dark fic #dark!fic #one night #defending jacob

[jostenneil]

Do you mind elaborating on what you dislike about Winick’s writing?

it’s a couple of different things, but where i think it stems from is the idea that some jason fans have of jason being turned into “the angry robin” as only a recent development, and that winick returning to the writer’s mantle would fix that issue, as if he didn’t ascribe to this version of jason in his own writing of under the red hood, and that influenced so many of the versions of jason thereafter. as much as i hate starlin and what he ultimately did to jason, i think there’s a distinction that has to be made about his writing. he didn’t think jason was a generally angry kid. in quite a few of his stories, jason is bright, nervous, insightful. he’s still very much a good kid. the central aspect to his writing of jason and how that eventually leads to a death in the family is his depiction of jason as reckless due to emotional involvement or naïveté, sometimes both (as can be seen in the case with sheila). and while that’s a bit annoying given the earlier issues collins wrote, where jason was capable of exercising restraint and patience, the part about him getting too emotionally involved at times is at least not all that far fetched given the issue where he learns two-face is responsible for killing his father. but that’s about as far as the portrayal goes, and even in aditf (which is immediately subsequent to the garzonas issues, the content of which obv deeply upset jason and that he also got emotionally involved in), the concern from bruce is that jason hasn’t had enough time to properly cope with his parents’ death, and that if bruce can help him then maybe he’ll be able to patrol normally. there’s never the idea that jason’s some angry kid with a mean streak, and while the thing about his “mean streak” is only a single throwaway line in under the red hood as a whole, i think it exposes the problem with winick and jason writers in general. they don’t want to acknowledge the fact that his issues pre-death were specific. he wasn’t hurling himself like an infuriated ballistic at every criminal. truly there were only two cases where that happened, and one involved his father’s murderer, obv a sore point, and the other a woman who hanged herself bc she couldn’t escape her rapist. (ig if you wanted you could also count him going overkill on the drug bust at the start of aditf, but that was the kind of temporary mental place starlin was leading jason to with the garzonas issues, rather than something that necessarily spoke on his character as a whole.) ascribing all of that to him having a mean streak and not just. . . the fact that he was a deeply empathetic person who was upset by these things that happened to good people is kind of bizarre to me. and yeah, i know winick writes jason killing people who harm children, but it’s the way he goes about writing jason’s attitude that bothers me bc it feels purely driven by rage as if jason’s feelings about certain criminals didn’t stem from a deep compassion for and personal connection to their victims. when you center so much of jason’s post-resurrection motivation around the joker and little else, you forget what drove jason to get emotionally involved with cases to begin with. more than self righteousness about what criminals deserved, it was compassion, and i think winick really missed the mark on that.

on another end, i also think ignoring the case with his father specifically has spelled a kind of disaster for his character. jason’s father worked as a lackey for one of gotham’s biggest crime bosses, and jason initially thought he’d been abandoned by willis until he learned two-face killed him. i think it’s crazy that his philosophy regarding who deserves to die and who doesn’t wouldn’t account for that deeply personal experience, esp since he loved his father. that’s not to say that every person he’s ever killed is suddenly in possession of a conscience and that every head, lackey, etc. was as sincere of intentions as his father was, but i think what winick’s vision lacks is the idea of jason having to contend with difficult questions. what is the definition of “bad”? how do you get to decide who lives or dies? what marks the point of no return for a criminal? it’s that lack of specificity that to me has harmed the character as a whole, not bc i think drug lords and rapists don’t deserve the absolute worst, but bc i think jason should come across situations where he’s forced to ask himself what gives him the right to play god, esp since a part of his philosophy is that he’s unperturbed with killing people who get in the way of him exacting what he calls justice (also this is not to say i agree with how urban legends handled this; while i enjoyed the premise i think the execution was lacking). people like to say there is a lot of nuance to jason’s introduction as the red hood but i don’t really think there is. the film version of the comic marginally improves on things but it’s still far from a genuine analysis on crime or the question of what criminals deserve what punishment, and how one would actually decide on that or on their right to decide to begin with

ultimately, i just don’t see how people believe subsequent writers are what drove jason to end up as the resident batfam psycho by the end of preboot, or as the angry robin in more recent years, when i very much think it’s a direct consequence of winick’s writing. so long as people hold that writing on a pedestal devoid of any criticism whatsoever, jason’s never going to improve as a character, and i’m still going to be of the belief he hasn’t been written well since before he died

#jason todd #dc #mine:media analysis #anti judd winick #i hope this is coherent sorry there’s probably so much more i could say but it’s already so long

[neonlights92]

GRACE: Chapter I

Kim Namjoon lost himself when he lost his hand.  Things have not been the same for him since.  When Taehyung tells him it’s time for him to marry - he isn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of someone else having a front row seat to his struggle with himself.

That’s where you come in.  You’re a nurse, as well as a member of Bangtan, and Taehyung is never more sure about a match than he is with you and Namjoon.  Feeling like you’ve been chosen to help Namjoon on his journey back to finding who he is, you feel completely out of depth.

It’s only when you start to see the man underneath that you start to fall in love with Kim Namjoon.  And maybe after all, you might be his saving grace.

WARNINGS: Language, eventual sex and some violence

A/N:Namjoonie’s story! ENJOOOOY :D 

“Kim Taehyung wants to see you, Y/N.”

Your mother’s words dropped between the two of you, like lead.  Her eyes avoided your own - and you knew exactly what she actually meant.

Kim Taehyung has found you a husband.

Your chest tightened and you gripped the handle of your coffee mug for dear life.

Your eyes traveled over to your father, his face kind but stern.  This wasn’t up for debate.

“Okay.”  The word was quiet, “Do I - do you…” 

You took a deep breath and collected yourself.

“Who is he?”

The question hung in the air uncomfortably.

Your parents exchanged a look - the same look they’d exchanged your entire life when decisions were made for you and they were afraid you wouldn’t like it.

“I think we should let Taehyung tell you that.”  Your father’s voice was steady, “As Capo, it is his right.”

As capo.

You didn’t know Kim Taehyung very well at all.  Though the two of you were of a similar age - had grown up together in Bangtan - he had always been groomed for Capo.  You on the other hand, had been groomed like most other women in the mob: to believe that your most important duty in life was to carry on your family line.

You knew it was outdated.  And you hated it, though you’d never complain.

Life had taught you that complaints got you nowhere - and so you’d learnt to keep your head down and get on with it.

But that didn’t mean you’d never wanted more.  That you’d craved freedom and independence like no other.

And when your parents had allowed you to study nursing at university you really had thought maybe things were changing.  Until you’d realised that it had been a direct order from Taehyung’s father himself - the Capo at the time.

Bangtan needed their own nurse.  Someone who could take care of things quietly and efficiently.

Someone who could help those who were badly injured find some degree of normality.

And that’s what you did.

Still.  You loved your job - mob mandated or not.

“Okay.”  You whispered, feeling something like dread wash over you.

“His wife has invited you to dinner at theirs,” Your mother finally moved her gaze to connect with your own, “This evening.  Eight pm.”

You nodded, on autopilot.

This was what you’d done all your life, wasn’t it?

You listened to orders.  You never asked questions.  You never challenged Bangtan.

And if the Capo himself wanted to see you, then you knew it could only mean one thing.

He’d found you a husband.  And tonight, you would meet him too.

//

You stood outside Kim Taehyung’s mansion -- because that’s what it was, a mansion -- nervously fingering the hem of your blouse.

This was it.

You’d waited twenty-five years for this moment - the moment someone else decided who you would marry.

You’d always known it would be like this.  Your father was too powerful - he held too many cards too close to his chest - and Bangtan could never let someone like him choose his own daughter’s marriage.

He’d told you since you were a young girl to expect this.  An arranged betrothal.

And when you were little you thought it was sort of romantic.  Like some fairytale - a princess locked away in a tower and a knight who was destined to save her.

Except now you were older and it wasn’t all that romantic anymore.

It was stifling.

You knew your father had come to this agreement with Taehyung himself.  You hated that you lived in such a misogynistic world, but it was the way things had always been.

After a long moment and a deep, calming breath, you lifted your hand and knocked, once.

There was a beat and then the portal swung open.

And Kim Taehyung’s wife was smiling widely at you.  You forced your own lips up into a smile.

“Hi!  Y/N, was it?”

You curtsied a little feeling foolish straight after, “Yeah.  Hello Mrs Kim.”

“Ugh Mrs Kim is Taehyung’s mom,” She laughed, “You can call me ___.”

Her eyes were kind as she opened the door further and gestured you inside.

“Come in, please.  Dinner is almost ready and the boys are too.”

The boys.

Your heart skipped a beat.  For a moment you wondered if perhaps your father had somehow secured a marriage to the last available member of the Special Seven, Kim Namjoon.

But you shook your head.

Your father was important, of course… But surely not that important. 

Besides, from what you’d heard through the grapevine - since the accident that had caused Namjoon to lose most of his hand - he had pretty much become a hermit. The rumour mill was rife, of course, with people’s theories of what would become of Bangtan’s most eligible bachelor.

Could it be that Kim Taehyung wanted you to take up that mantle?

“I hope you like pasta,” ___ interrupted your thoughts and you looked up as stopped in front of a large dining room, “We hardly ever use this room anymore, but Taehyung thought it was appropriate for tonight.”

Your eyes widened at the opulence of the room you were stood in.  The chandelier that hung in the middle of the ceiling dripped with what you could only guess were the most expensive diamonds money could buy.  The long, mahogany table was ornate and rich - a dark colour that spoke of wealth and taste.

“It’s a little much,” ___ spoke up again and you turned to see her rolling her eyes, “But it was like this when we moved in.  Taehyung’s dad had a lot of money and apparently not a lot of subtlety.”

She laughed at the comment and you giggled too - relaxing a little as the tension eased from your shoulders slightly.  It seemed you’d found something of an ally in Taehyung’s wife and you were thankful for that, at least.

“I know we don’t really know each other,” She started carefully, a perfectly plucked brow pulling up slightly, “But I like to think of myself as a confidant of sorts… Especially when it comes to matters of the heart.”

You raised your own brow, “Matters of the heart?”

She bit her bottom lip and you noticed the pity in her eyes.

As she opened her mouth to answer you, somebody cleared their throat to your left and your head snapped round, finding yourself looking up into the formidable gaze of Kim Taehyung.

He was alone, you noticed immediately, and you tried to keep your expression neutral.

This was the game of Bangtan.  A game you’d grown up in.

A game you knew well.

“Taehyung,” You greeted, nodding gently, “Thank you for inviting me.  It is an honour.”

His handsome face was cold - barely responsive as he nodded back to you, “Y/N.  Welcome to our home.”

Our home.

The words warmed you.

It had been clear for a while now that Kim Taehyung’s only weakness was his wife.  He would burn the entire world down for her - and you’d been told of this time and time again.

They had started off as an arranged marriage - almost six years ago now - when Taehyung’s father and his wife’s father had worked so closely with one another they had promised their children’s hand in marriage in an act of loyalty.

But things had changed in the years since.

It was well established that Kim Taehyung loved only one thing more than he loved Bangtan - and that was his wife.

You tried to focus on that - on the fact that loveless marriages could turn into something else - as ___ nudged her husband playfully.

“Don’t be so formal,” She teased and you couldn’t believe you were witnessing this exchange, “Y/N is a friend.”

Taehyung actually rolled his eyes playfully and smiled down at his wife, “I’m still Capo, darling.”

She laughed as well and your chest tightened.  You wanted that.

The obvious love they had for one another - the way they seemed to be so comfortable with each other it was like they had found their home.

“Well dinner’s almost ready Taehyung so go and get cleaned up.” ____ said, slipping an arm through yours and leading you towards the ridiculous mahogany table, “Come sit over here, Y/N.”

You noticed for the first time that the table was set for four people.

Your heart pounded against your chest.

“Who is it?”

The question slipped out of you before you even had a chance to think it through.  ____ froze. She was slipping into the seat beside you when her eyes turned to your own.

“What?”

“The fourth person,” You whispered, darting your eyes behind you to make sure Taehyung wasn’t within earshot distance, “My future husband.  Who is it?”

____ looked genuinely distraught for a moment.

You clicked your tongue.

“I’m a member of the South Korea mafia, ____, I know how this shit works.”  You noticed your words were a little sharp and you tried to soften them with a weak smile, “Just tell me who it is.  Please.”

____ seemed torn.  Her eyes roved your face carefully and she sighed. 

“He’s a good guy.”  She told you carefully, “Really.   I’m not just saying that.”

Your heart dropped.  The look in her eyes - the trepidation….

“It’s Kim Namjoon, isn’t it?”

A throat cleared itself loudly from behind you.  You snapped your head to the side and watched as the man himself sauntered towards the two of you.

“You rang?”  The sarcasm dripped from his tone as he stuck out his prosthetic hand for you to shake.  You supposed he was expecting you to be disgusted - maybe to rebuke him - but you were made of stronger stuff than that.

You forced yourself to smile, “Hello Namjoon.  I’m Y/N.”

He narrowed his eyes as you shook his prosthetic.

“I know who you are,” He raised a dark brow, “The future Mrs Kim Namjoon.”

The words were like heavy bricks - weighing down on your shoulders.

You knew next to nothing about this man.  Despite what ____ had said about him being a good man all you saw was bitterness and anger in his eyes.

“You’re the nurse, aren’t you?” 

You nodded carefully and tried to calm your pulse. 

“Well now we know why Taehyung chose you for me.  The cripple.”

____ cleared her throat and stood up abruptly.  Her eyes were dark and angry and she shook her head at Namjoon.

“No.  You don’t get to do that to her.  Not when she had nothing to do with any of this.”  Her bottom lip trembled slightly, “Apologise.” Namjoon’s face was a perfect mask of nonchalance.  His eyes flicked between you and ____ and he shrugged.

“What for?”

____ squared her shoulders, “You know exactly what for, Kim Namjoon.”

“I think that’s enough now,” Taehyung entered the room sharply, standing between his wife and friend.  His gaze fell on you after a moment, “I see the two of you have met.”

You nodded wordlessly, wondering just what in the hell was going on.

Namjoon was seething apparently, as he sulked to the left of his friend, arms crossed and eyes dangerously black.   

“Was he not as welcoming as he’d promised he’d be?”

“This is ridiculous V, we both know that.  You’ve chosen her because she’s a nurse and because of this,” He stuck his fake hand in the air and you refused to look away.

Nobody else in the room reacted for a moment.

Taehyung took a deep, calming breath.

“That was part of it, yes.”  He said evenly, “Y/N is a trained nurse and therefore she can help you move forward with this.  But she’s also a good match.  Right age, right height… Her parents are wealthy and important like yours.  It is a good union.  I have told you this plenty of times Namjoon.”

“I will not marry her because of pity,” Namjoon spat the word out, “I’m not some fucking charity case-” 

“I don’t pity you.” The words flew out of you and when three sets of eyes turned to fall on you, you wondered if it was the right choice.  You chose to focus on Namjoon.

“What?”

“I don’t pity you,” You told him honestly, gesturing to his prosthetic, “What happened is awful, obviously.  And I may never know the full extent of it.  But I don’t pity you.  You are a man with an obstacle in life.  There are many men with obstacles in life.  That doesn’t make you worthy of  pity.”

Namjoon’s eyes searched your face for something - what you weren’t sure - and she sighed heavily.  He seemed so tired.  You noticed the bags under his eyes, the lines in his forehead.  He was young - just a little older than you - and yet it seemed he’d aged so much recently.

“So you want to marry me?  You want to marry a man who’s had to learn how to live - how to do normal every day things like eat with a knife and fork - all over again?”

You shrugged, “I want to do what’s best for Bangtan.  If Taehyung says that’s a marriage between the two of us, then so be it.”

A long moment passed between the two of you.

Namjoon seemed to be sizing you up, and you took the opportunity to do the same.

He wasn’t ugly.  Far from it.  Kim Namjoon was tall and handsome - and from what you’d  heard through the grapevine - he was also smart and kind.

People spoke about him of course - he was a member of the Special Seven - and what they said was normally very positive.

He wasn’t like other Bangtan men.

He was grounded.  He was softer.  A man who used brains instead of braun.

You had to admit, those traits were attractive to you.

Eventually, he spoke.

“Alright then.”  He nodded and gave you a strange look - somewhere between admiration and confusion, “I suppose that says it all.”

Namjoon turned to Taehyung and nodded.

“We’ll get married at the earliest convenience.” _____ gasped from behind you but you barely registered the sound.

It had all been well and good in theory… But now what?

Kim Namjoon stuck his hand out to yours - his real hand made of flesh and bones - and smiled sardonically.

“Welcome to the family, Mrs Kim Namjoon.” You smiled back.  Mrs Kim Namjoon.

You could do this.

//

Planning a wedding was easy when you weren’t trusted to do a single thing.

Kim Namjoon’s family had promised to take care of everything - and as a family higher up in the Bangtan hierarchy than your own - there had been no argument to be made.

This was the way things worked in your world, and you’d learned long ago just to accept it. 

You barely saw your husband in the ensuing months.  He dropped by once to meet your parents and officially ask for your hand in marriage, and once more since then to update you on the wedding arrangements.

But apart from that he was like a ghost - you even forgot sometimes that you were supposed to be marrying him. 

You rarely thought about the fact that by the end of this year you would be Mrs Kim Namjoon and despite the relatively long engagement - six months was a long time in the world of Bangtan - you were happy you had the time to get used to the idea of marriage.

It wasn’t until one evening when Kim Namjoon came calling for you that the reality of the situation truly sunk in.

You were leaving work - it had been a particularly difficult day so far, and absolutely nothing seemed to be going smoothly.  In fact everything today had felt like it was seconds away from falling apart and you felt like you too, were going to break down.

And as you made your way across the parking lot you found Kim Namjoon, leaning against your car.  How he knew which one was yours was beyond you - but you smiled at him questioningly when you were within earshot.

“Hi.” He smiled almost sheepishly, “Hi.”

“What are you doing here?”

He crossed his arms and squinted one eye shut as he stewed in your question for just a moment.  Then he sighed heavily.

“I’ve been an asshole.”

“Huh?” You raised a brow. 

Namjoon groaned and clicked his tongue, “Are you gonna make this difficult for me?”

“What? No!” You shook your head and shrugged, “I just don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The night I agreed to marry you I was a jerk.  And we’ve barely seen each other twice since we got engaged two months ago.”  He ran a hand through his hair, “I promised myself I wouldn’t be like that.  So I’m sorry.”

You cocked your head to the side, shocked at the show of vulnerability.  Namjoon was a Bangtan man - he should be cold and unforgiving - he should push away intimacy and hate the thought of opening himself up to anyone.

And yet here he was, apologising to you for something you’d assumed was just the way things were done when a marriage was arranged.

“Okay.”  You nodded slowly, “I forgive you.”

He smiled softly and you found yourself thinking he really did look handsome like that.

“I’d like us to be friends at least,” He shrugged, “If nothing else.”

You smiled back, “Friends sounds good to me.”

“Good.  Great.  Thank you,” He gestured to your car, “So can you give me a ride home?” You gave him a questioning look, “How did you get here?”

“My driver dropped me off,” He lifted his prosthetic hand, “I can’t really drive anymore.” 

There was a moment of almost awkward silence, but you refused to let something Namjoon couldn’t control, ruin the atmosphere.  He’d apologised to you - he was making something of an effort - and you owed it to him to do your part.

“I can help you with that,” You told him, pointing at his hand, “Getting used to it.  How long have you had it on for?”

“Half a year,” He looked away from you, “It’s still so uncomfortable.”

You took another step towards him and his eyes connected with yours.  

“I don’t care.”  You told him firmly, “I don’t care about the prosthetic.  I swear.  And I’m sorry it’s uncomfortable.  I’m sorry it happened to you.  But I’ll help you.  I will.  I promise.”

Namjoon’s eyes softened at your words and you were taken back by the way he was suddenly looking at you.

God.  He really was so handsome.

“Okay.”  He whispered, eyes darting across your face, “Yeah.  Thank you.  That would mean a lot.” The moment was suspended for another moment more, and you wondered if you might do something crazy like try and kiss him - before Namjoon cleared his throat and the spell was broken.

Jesus.

What was going on with you?

Your pulse was racing as you fumbled around your handbag for your keys and you told yourself the nerves were only because of the day you’d had.  It had nothing to do with the handsome man standing in front of you.

“You’re going to have to give me directions to your house,” You told Namjoon as the car unlocked and you both climbed in, “I’ve never had the privilege of visiting.” He snorted a laugh, “It’s a two minute drive from Taehyung’s.  If you drive that way I can guide you.”

“Sounds good.”

You buckled yourself in and tried to ignore the way your cheeks were flushing at the idea of you and Namjoon being in such a small space together, focusing instead on the feel of the steering wheel under your fingers, and trying as much as you could not to stare at him through the reflection of the mirrors.

That would be weird.

Weirder than you were suddenly being.

“How was work?” He asked you once you pulled the car out onto the main road. 

You groaned, “Awful.  Today was a bad one.  We have them sometimes but it really lowers your self esteem.  Some of my patients seemed like they couldn’t stand my face.”

Namjoon whistled lowly. 

“I can imagine that wouldn’t be a very comforting atmosphere to be in.”

“No, not very,” You shrugged and shot him a look, “But that’s the nature of my job.  Nurses are treated worse than doctors even though sometimes it feels like we do triple the work.”

Namjoon chuckled and you raised a brow, “What?”

“It’s  just…” Out of the corner of your eye you saw him shake his head, “It’s like that with us sometimes.  In Bangtan I mean.  Taehyung is treated with so much respect and reverence - and he deserves it.  Of course he does.  But the rest of us… We work our asses off.  And we barely get any recognition for it.”  He pulled a face, “So I guess I’m trying to say I know how you’re feeling.  Kind of.”

You let this information settle with you.

It made sense of course.

Bangtan was the biggest food chain of them all.  The Capo demanded respect.

And in the little interaction you’d had with him, you saw how intimidating Kim Taehyung could be.  Still.  You imagined that had to be annoying.

“Doesn’t it piss you off?” He scoffed, “Of course it does.  But that’s just Bangtan.  That’s the job.  We don’t do it for recognition anyway.  We do it because we love Bangtan.”

You smiled at that.

It was exactly how you felt about your job.

“Yeah.  I understand what you mean.  As much as it sucks that I don’t always get the praise I feel I deserve… I don’t do it for that.  I do it to help people.”

There was a heavy moment between you both.  Namjoon seemed to be taking in what you’ve said and you found yourself thinking that if it’s this easy to talk to him you might catch yourself falling for your own husband.

“That’s a lovely way to put it,” You felt rather than saw his smile, “My house is just on this curb.”

You slowed the car down and turned to your fiance, surprised when you saw him already smiling at you.

“Thank you.  For this.”  His eyes were gentle and shimmering almost and you once again had to force yourself not to flush, “It’s been…. Nice.” You grinned back, “Alright.  Don’t be a stranger.”

He laughed at that and shook his head.

“I won’t.” He gave you a warm look, “Goodbye Y/N.  I’ll call you soon.”

You nodded, “Okay.  Bye Namjoon.”

He smiled at you once more before climbing out of the car and waving goodbye at you. 

And as you drove away all you could think of was this:

Kim Namjoon might very well be the best thing that could have ever happened to you.

//

#namjoon x reader #mafia au #arranged marraige au #smut #angst #romance #kpop #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine

[doodler-jpeg]

Life [Wilbur Soot/Fundy]

BOOOM HI HELLO HOW ARE YOU UH UM SO I WAS INSPIRED WHILE I WAS BORED AND THEN THIS IS HOW THIS ONESHOT CAME TO BE. ITS NOT GOOD, BUT ITS DECENT. You’re gonna be taking Sally’s place so, uh, I’m sorry, Sally, you’re just another salmon. Still love you though  THIS TOOK SO LONG TO MAKE DEAR GOD ITS BEEN IN THE WORKS FOR LIKE A MONTH LMAO

ALSO, KEEP IN MIND THIS IS C!WILBUR/SMP!WILBUR

⚠️CUSSING, AFAB READER, PREGNANCY, THIS IS A REALLY LONG ONE SHOT OH MY GOD, PLATONIC FUNDY RELATIONSHIP SO YEAH⚠️

Pronouns: she/her or they/them [you’re referred to as wife, mom,, that stuff, but you can change those if you want]

You hummed as you strained out your clothing beside the river near your home. A smile graced your face, [Eye Colour] eyes glinting happily in the warm sunlight of that fine summer day. Autumn would soon turn the land into a seemingly barren wasteland, though, so you decided to savor every last bit of happiness the hot days brought you. 

Hanging the large amount of clothing upon thin clothing lines, you dumped out your bucket and made sure nothing got in the lake. Walking back inside of your home, you set the buckets in the corner of the cozy cottage and walked back outside. Your brown boots thudded quietly against the cobblestone path that lead into the woods around your home that would eventually be covered in snow.

A sudden childish giggle made you turn to the fields that were a ways away from your house, right in front of the sparsely scattered trees to the right of your little house. You furrowed your brows in confusion as a blur of yellow, white, and red rushed over to you.

“Hello there.” You couldn’t help but stare as the child looked up at you silently. “What are you doing here, little one?” He only blushed, his face flushing a vivid red before he ran off. You shrugged and continued your trek into the forest.

//

You watched as flakes of snow fell delicately onto the muted green coloured grass, bundled tightly in a burrito of quilts that you and your mother has made together. You shuffled slightly from your position on your warm bed, closing your eyes as you waited for sleep to consume you.

It seemed life had other plans, though, as a faint light came toward your home, edging closer and closer until you could make out a figure, their clothing a great contrast to the paw snow. They were shivering visibly, clutching their arms as their lantern shook in their hand.

You frowned as you peeled your blankets off of you, pulling your boots on quickly. Grabbing a lantern cage, you lit the candle inside of it and hurried outside, feeling nervous as the figure hurried over to you.

Soon enough, they were standing in front of you, a miserable look on their face, their eyes red and puffy as their teeth chattered together.

“Come inside,” you didn’t care for introductions or your safety. This person seemed nice. “I’ll start a fire. Uh- there should be a few blankets on the sofa. Would you like anything to drink? Warm milk, tea? I’m not gonna offer coffee because it’s late, so I’m sorry about that.”

“Just water, please,” they croaked out. “I’m sorry for the intrusion. I was headed off in search of territory to claim. Turns out I chose the wrong day. God, it’s cold.” You let out a quiet laugh as you carefully tossed some wood into your fireplace, lighting the material on fire. Almost immediately, the flames grew and you sat up, placing your flint and steel on the fireplace mantle.

“I’ll go get you your water. Go warm up.” You urged before you walked into the kitchen to get the brunet some water.

//

““And then Tommy ran off!” Wilbur howled with laughter as he told the story of how he managed to lose his father in the forest close to his family home. ““Phil was looking for us for hours!” You smiled at the story as you carefully sewed up your friend’s heavy coat, making sure the patches were relatively the same colour as the rest of the jacket.

“You never really tell me about your family, so why are you telling stories now?” You commented, threading the needle in your hand through the fabric and back out of it, pulling the thread tightly. You snipped it with your scissors, placing the needle down to look for any other holes as Wilbur flushed a bright red.

“W-well— one day, I want you to meet my family, so- this sounds so fucking stupid. Never mind, forget about it.” He covered his face in his hands as you bummed, picking up a patch and laying it out on the brown fabric.

“What you’re saying is that you would introduce me to your family because you like me that much, huh?” No answer came from Wilbur, though he did let out a flustered groan as you chortled.

//

You placed a kiss upon your new boyfriend’s cheek, causing the brunet to laugh as he shrunk away from your lips

“Stop it,” you only grinned at the man, kissing various areas of his face in retaliation. Wilbur laughed harder, pushing you away gently as his face scrunched. ““It tickles!”

You grabbed his face in your hands and he looked into your eyes for a moment before you began attacking his face with kisses. When you pulled back for a break, Wilbur copied your actions from earlier and rubbed his thumb across your cheeks with a smile. He leaned his forehead on yours and let out a breathy sigh, closing his eyes as he basked in the moment.

“I love you so fucking much, [Y/N].”

//

““Dont be scared, darling,” Wilbur mused as he gently rubbed his thumb in circles on the back of your hand, lightly squeezing every few rotations. “Techno’s made sure to keep any weapons away and Tommy might be a little less wreckless. I’ll make sure to tell them during dinner.” You nodded uncertainly, playing nervously with the bracelet Wilbur had made you way back when the two of you first started as friends.

Wilbur rapped his knuckles on the door, his other hand never once letting go of yours as the two of you waited. A bit of shouting was heard through the door, slightly muffled, though it was evident that it was coming closer.

The door was flung open by a blond boy, his blue eyes shooting us to meet Wil’s not even a second after he opened the door. A grin was on the boys face as he turned and shouted for Phil [who Wilbur had told you was his father]. Soon enough, a blond man with a bucket hat trodden over, frowning at Tommy.

“Listen, motherfucker, you may be living here, but I’m not gonna fucking let you live if you keep fuckin shoutin.” You froze nervously and glanced over at your boyfriend. He just sent a small, awkward smile onto reassure you before he turned to look down at the two.

“Are you really gonna argue in front of my wife?” Wilbur piped in, feeling himself become giddy as Tommy and Phil shot their heads over to look at you.

“You brought a girl over?!” Tommy yelled in surprise as he stumbled back, eyes wide as he observed your movements skeptically.

“Wil? Can you come over here real quick? I just need to talk to you.” Phil forced a smile as he grabbed the taller man’s ear and yoinked him over to a different room, leaving Tommy and you alone.

“Hi,” you smiled nervously, raising a hand in a half assed wave.

“Do you happen to be American?” The blond asked, leaning his face over to stare at you.

“I mean- I’m a water nymph. I don’t really know if that counts because we usually just have different accents, but we never take into account where anyone’s from.” You laughed, scratching your cheek.

“Well where are you from?” Tommy urged, crossing his arms.

“To be specific, I came from the North Sea right by the Netherlands. I don’t really think that’s important though.” You shrugged.

“So you’re Dutch? Speak it.”

“Im not necessarily Dutch, I was just born in the North Sea, Tommy- I think you’re a Tommy. You seem like a Tommy.” You cleared up, ““The only reason I learned English was to communicate with certain humans.”

“Okay.” The boy sighed, shoulders slumping forward as you let out an amused chortle, “I’ll leave you alone. For now.” Tommy backed up, turning into a room while a big, burly pig person ducked under the doorway, a large sword in hand and an uninterested expression on his face. As he turned to the door, he spotted you and his eyes widened momentarily before going back to their half lidded position.

“Who’re you? Phil didn’t- oh. Oh, today was that day. Oh my god, how could I forget it?” The hybrid smacked his forehead harshly, ““I’m so sorry.”

You laughed, waving your hand dismissively as the pig moved to the side to let you in. You carefully stepped into the warm house and the tall hybrid closed the door behind you.

“Dinner’s nearly done, so you can go sit down in the living room. If you need anything, Phil has ears all over the place. Just look at those crows.” Techno motioned over to the few crows that perched themselves on the window, letting out quiet caws. You waved at the birds and they flapped their wings in response.

“They seem nice.”

//

You sat next to your husband, hand intertwined with his as Phil smiled over at the two of you.

“So, anything new happening with you two?” The blond man inquired, placing his hands on the table. 

““I mean,” Wilbur laughed, turning over to look at you. “Would you like to tell them, dear?” You nodded, a grin on your face as you sat as straight as you could.

“I’m pregnant,” you said, your voice surprisingly calm. Tommy let out a shocked ‘‘what the fuck??’, while Techno choked on his food, slamming a fist onto his chest.

Phil was quiet, eyes wide in shock as he took in the information.

“Pregnant? With Wilbur’s kid?” You nodded, swinging Wilbur’s hand as Tommy cheered.

“Im gonna be a fuckin uncle! Yeah! I’ll be the best damn uncle ever!” He cackled, leaning back as Techno snorted.

““Can I teach them PvP?” You and your husband glanced over at each other before shaking your head.

“Maybe when they’re old enough to know what they’re doing.”

//

““Hello, my precious baby,” you cooed gently, holding the newborn as they let out a quiet sigh. ““My baby. You look just like your father.” A warm but tired smile was on your face as your baby opened their eyes, brown meeting [Eye Colour].

“Love, is the baby okay? Is she doing alright?” Wilbur called nervously through the door, to which you laughed.

“Yes, they’re doing great,” placing a gentle kiss on the baby’s nose, they brought a hand up and lightly tapped their nose.

//

““Fundy! Come here!” You cheered, reaching your arms out to the toddler. They giggled, waddling over to you. Their scab covered knees were littered with bandages and the red overalls they wore were much unlike what Wilburs would have wanted your child to wear, but it was your kid! They deserved the best!

““My precious baby,” you placed a kiss on their cheek, causing the brown haired child to giggle and wipe the kiss from their cheek. You grinned, littering their face in kisses as they squirmed, ““My little champion!”

“Yah! Cham-champion!” They babbled, bringing up a finger to chew on as you set them down and smoothed out your dress. 

““Alright, sweetheart, papa will be here soon, so make sure to tell him what you want to tell him, alright?” Your boy nodded, a goofy grin on his face as he reached over to one of the toys you had brought.

//

You cradled your son’s head as he sobbed, shaking his head in denial as to what had just happened.

“He-he’s gone, mama!” He choked out, wrapping his arms around you tightly. His tears stained your shirt, though the feeling didn’t bother you as you rocked your son back and forth, combing your fingers through his hair.

“Fundy, it’s okay,” you cooed, ““He doesn’t have to live with all the mistakes he made in the past anymore. Who knows, maybe he’ll come back?” 

““But what if he doesn’t? That was his last life and- and it’s gone! My dad’s gone!” Letting out a pained wail, he continued to sob. And you let him.

He had gone through so much.

//

““Who the hell are you and what are you doing around my son?” You sneered, standing in front of your son as the transparent figure stared at you curiously.

“You don’t remember me?” They asked, voice echoing as they tilted your head. “I- [Y/N], it’s me! Your husband! I- I am your husband, right?”

“My husband didn’t push away his son and focus on a failed country more than his own fucking family.” You loaded your crossbow, aiming it at the ghost. ““You didn’t come to his birthday parties, didn’t get him anything, you barely paid attention to him when your country was in the spotlight! You’re no husband to me.”

“Mama-” Fundy gulped nervously, ““Mama, please.”

“You know what, whoever the fuck you are? You’re no damn husband to me and you never will be. Now leave me and my son alone, for fuck’s sake.”

The ghost was silent as you turned, leading the man beside you toward the house at the top of the hill, though a small smile made its way onto his face.

“She’s the one I married?” He murmured, moving his hand to where his heart was, “Was she really the love of my life?”

#mcyt #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #wilbur soot #c!wilbur #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #fundy #fundy x you #fundy x reader #fundy imagine

[professorspork]

superhell fic prompt: JAUNE RUNS INTO PYRRHA

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5]

It doesn’t occur to that she’s allowed to talk to them until Torchwick reveals himself to Neo. And even then, well-- Roman Torchwick isn’t exactly a shining paragon when it comes to setting a good example of what’s allowed.

But the idea refuses to stop hounding her footsteps, once it’s come. Once she’s seen it’s possible, without consequences. Still, she waits, and keeps her distance. There’s no sunset, here on the island, no night, but there are shady places beneath the towering roots of the Tree; eventually, they all bed down, and Jaune-- as she’d known he would-- volunteers to take first watch. It’s a heartening display: Yang and Blake twined together like ivy on a wrought iron gate, but each clinging to the hands of their teammates, chained together by grasping fingers. Otters in a stream, unwilling to be separated.

She doesn’t know why she’s surprised to hear her own voice when she approaches.

...I know this can be frustrating, and it can feel like so much effort to progress such a small amount, but I want you to know that I'm proud of you. I've never met someone so determined to better themselves...

“You’ll drain your battery,” she cautions, reaching out with her mind to press the off button on his scroll. His head whips up, expression aghast, and she smiles at him softly. “I’d have thought you’d have it memorized by now anyhow; you haven’t seemed to need it in some time.”

She expects disbelief, perhaps, or shock. Joy would have been nice, but she’d have understood anger. So she’s surprised and---bizarrely proud, actually-- when instead his eyes narrow in suspicion and the first thing he says is, “Your Semblance works.”

“Well, yes.”

“Why does your Semblance work?”

“Because I’m where I’m supposed to be. A soul knows when it’s in the right place. Or the wrong one, as the case may be.”

“Or I’m dreaming.”

“Or you’re dreaming,” she agrees, keeping her voice mild, but feeling it like a punch to the stomach when his shoulders relax at the idea. Does he... not want her here? Goodness, but she’s out of practice. She’d forgotten it was like this; how talking to him had been both the easiest and the hardest thing in the world. “Would you-- prefer that? If I weren’t really here?”

“The real Pyrrha would know better than to ask me that.”

Despite herself, she laughs. “Oh, I wish that were true. I asked myself that every day. Every class, every glance, every study session on the roof. I’m afraid I was never as confident as I should have been.” It’s an embarrassing admission, but an effective one; the walled-up caution behind his eyes dissipates... only for tears to well up in its stead.

“Are you-- can I touch you?”

“I hope so.” (She’d left Torchwick and Neo behind before they’d gotten that far, for obvious reasons.)

“I--” He scrambles to his feet and crosses the distance between them, enveloping her in a crushing hug. It doesn’t feel like she remembers, but then, that’s no surprise-- he’s taller than he used to be, and her body isn’t exactly a body, per se. She’s grateful, even so. Happy just to have the chance to hold him up. She keeps quiet at first, letting him get it all out as he sobs incoherent apologies into her shoulder--

(IloveyouImissyouIloveyouImissyouI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry)

--and contents herself with playing with the short hair at the nape of his neck. Eventually, he calms.

“I like the haircut,” she says, when he pulls away. “It’s handsome. You look so grown up.”

“You look so young,” he croaks in response, and-- she supposes she must, to his eyes. It’s strange to think that she’s the same age as Ruby now; that they’ve kept going on without her, and they’ll continue to do so, once she’s led them out. “Are you--? Have you--?” He wipes at his eyes, laughing at himself a little. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know where to start. I just-- I can't believe you're here with me.”

“I'm always with you,” she assures him, unable to suppress the urge to thumb away a tear he’s missed. She keeps her hand there, at his cheek, as she she speaks: “Even when you can’t sense me, I... oh, Jaune. I’m so proud of you. You’ve come so far.”

He sighs and steps out of the circle of her arms, hanging his head to stare at Crocea Mors where it rests in its sheath. You’d never know it to be broken, just by looking. The scabbard hides the damage-- giving him the appearance of being armed and ready though all he carries is a shattered hilt. “Yeah, maybe. I-- I thought I had, but...” He swallows, face filled with shame.

She starts to reach for him again, unwilling to waste even a moment of their time not touching him, but forces herself to relax and drop her hands to her sides. It has to be his choice, doesn’t it? “Tell me. You can tell me anything; you know that.”

His voice falters terribly when he finally speaks: 

“I mean, I feel like you already know. For the longest time, I wanted to be this... I dunno. This warrior, or whatever. And it never fit, no matter what I did, or how hard I worked, and I just-- I resented it so much. Being...” He shakes his head. “I just felt useless. But when I unlocked my Semblance, I had to let that go. And it was hard at first, it took time, but for a second there it finally started to feel like... like I knew my place. Where I belonged; what everyone needed from me. I was good at it. But then Penny needed--” He chokes on a sob, and has to stop and take several deep breaths before he can continue. “Nothing’s changed. I’m still useless. The idiot stuck on the wrong side of the glass, out of his league and forced to watch because someone else has to be the Maiden now and there’s nothing he can do about it. Only this time it’s worse, because this time I actually-- I--”

Unable to hold herself back anymore, she reaches for his hands; he squeezes her fingers tight, like a lifeline. “I understand,” she soothes, voice heavy like a vow. “Did you think I wouldn’t? I don’t think I have to remind you that I’m the only other person who knows what that feels like. To have been the one who killed her.”

He lets out an awful, cynical noise; a parody of a laugh. “Depends on who you ask,” he says in explanation, looking askance towards Ruby. Pyrrha sadly follows his gaze. Ruby’s shifted in her sleep, curled under her cape to be as small as possible with her head nestled in the crooks of Yang’s bent knees. Her arms are wrapped around Yang’s shins in a death grip, as though she fears her sister might fly away at any moment. Pyrrha’s heart aches for her; for the responsibility she carries. Weight Pyrrha could have helped shoulder... if only she’d been a little faster, a little more clever.

She shakes off the feeling; now’s not the time for regret. “But things have changed,” she says, bringing Jaune’s hands up to her mouth and kissing the knuckles. It will be a long time, she knows, before he believes there isn’t blood on them; maybe this small act can help. And if it doesn’t... she has other options. Maybe even a little levity, for once. “You’re not useless. You’re amazing. You’re a licensed Huntsman now; you’re accomplishing things you’d only dreamed of. All the mothers of Mantle adore you. You even got to go on a date with Weiss!”

He boggles at her, wrenching his hands away. “What?! That wasn’t a date, we were just hanging out with Oscar, we--” His jaw falls open, suddenly, and his eyes narrow once more. “Wait a minute. Are you teasing me?”

She grins, sheepish and caught. “I figured it was now or never to give it a go; I didn’t want to waste my last chance to try it. Nora always said it would be good for me.”

“To make fun of me?” he squawks, indignant.

She laughs. “To remind myself it’s okay to be a novice sometimes; that there are things I won’t instantly be good at.” She bites her lip, unable to stop her grin. “...And also to make fun of you, yes.”

He surges forward, then-- wrapping a hand around the back of her neck and pulling her closer, pressing a fierce, grateful kiss to her forehead. Then he does it again; then once more, at the bridge of her nose. And then a final time, against her lips. Quick; intense. Filled with meaning.

She’s got not breath in her, and still she’s breathless.

“I miss you so much,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut and resting his forehead against hers. His fingers thread themselves into the hair at the back of her skull, tangled into the base of her ponytail. “So much. I think about you all the time. Every day. Wondering how different things would be, if only...”

“I know,” she says, because she does. There’s more that she should say, probably-- that it’s good that he’s started to move on; that none of them can hold onto her forever. But she can’t quite bring herself to voice the words.

“It’s not fair,” he mutters, then sighs at the sound of it. “I mean, none of it is fair, but-- I feel like a jerk, I guess. That I’m the one who gets to see you, of all of us.”

“You’ll tell them I love them, won’t you? Ren and Nora. They...” They’re doing things she never did, is the thing. Maturing in ways she’ll never have the chance to. Learning that responsibility doesn’t mean putting it all on your own shoulders; that love doesn’t mean giving all of yourself away. It’s overwhelming, how proud she is of them for that. “They were on the right path, in Atlas. Don’t let them convince themselves otherwise.”

He nods, the movement of it levering her own head in shared agreement. “Anything else? Anyone else you’d like me to...?”

So many; too many. But one rises above the rest. “Tell my mother to stop leaving flowers,” she murmurs, wishing she had more to offer than that. “Tell her they belong in the garden; that I like to watch them grow. That’s-- the way it should be.”

“Okay,” he says, and relief rushes through her. “Okay. I will.”

Slowly, they both become aware once more of the gaggle of Huntresses sleeping just a few yards off. Pyrrha could leave dozens of messages with Jaune, if she wanted, but the people she most needs to speak to are right here, within arm’s reach. They need her guidance; it’s selfish not to provide it. She’s taken so long already. And yet...

Jaune beats her to voicing the thought: “I know we should probably wake them, but-- can it be just the two of us, for just a little longer? Please?”

She smiles, and brings a hand up to caress his cheek. “I thought you’d never ask.”

#Anonymous #arkos #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #rwby #fic what i wrote

[jawabear]

1 of 10 (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Not my GIF (look at this man...)

A/N: so here’s that Bucky fic I’ve been talking about. This took me too long to write but I like it? I’m absolutely loving Falcon and The Winter Soldier! I’ve mentioned this before but Bucky Barnes is my all time favourite fictional character. This is set before the events of episode one but maybe like a week or so before. I hope you enjoy. Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe.

Genre: fluff, angst

Warnings: fem!reader, tfatws spoilers, Bucky being awkward, nightmares, therapy, Bucky isn’t as smooth as he was in the 40s but he’s still cute

Summary: Bucky has ten contacts in his phone. One of which belongs the the girl he feels he has been searching for for 106 long years.

The times in which he found himself now were more than confusing. But that was the best way Bucky could think to describe them. For him though it seemed a lot worse than for others. For others, they had a gap of five years missing. For Bucky, he had far more than that.

From 1943 to 2023 there was a lot missing. He remembered it however. He remembered everything. The good, the bad, and the horrifying. What was meant by missing was that it wasn’t him who was living. He had missed out on living between those years. He had missed out on everything. And he knew, like the billions of others, he would never get those years back.

But now he was a civilian. Working to make amends from his past after being given a pardon. However, settling into his new easy life was proving far from that. It had been a few months now since the whole ordeal with saving the blipped half of humanity, Bucky included, and it had been a few months now since Steve went back in time and started a new life leaving him and Sam behind.

Sam. Right.

Sam was an avenger. More so than Bucky could ever be. So he was off doing his avenging work while Steve’s shield gathered dust in a wardrobe somewhere he was sure. Sam didn’t have it in him to take up the mantle of Captain America. He felt the shield belonged to someone else. It was Steve’s. It only ever could be.

More often than perhaps Bucky would like, he would get texts from Sam. Asking him how he was and telling him about missions he was going on. Bucky never replied. He didn’t know how to half the time and he didn’t want to.

He didn’t know how he was. He didn’t know if he was okay. He was forced to go see a therapist but all he did was lie to her.

“Have you had any nightmares recently?” She would ask him.

Bucky would think back to the night before their meeting and all the others as well. Each night he’d have to be faced with the horrors of his past. Every mission he carried out. Every person he carelessly killed.

“No” he would answer. And it wasn’t like he was wrong in his answer. The things he saw in his sleep were not nightmares they were memories. The nightmarish horrors he was were his reality, so when he said no in response to her question, he found it difficult to be accused of lying.

There were few things he could agree with her about. But the one thing he could see eye to eye with her about was the fact he was alone.

Sure, he had Sam. But only when Bucky wanted to acknowledge him which had not been often as of recently. And as his therapist so kindly pointed out he only had ten contacts on his phone. But in his defence, he still wasn’t used to the whole world of mobile communications and internet. So his phone was basically redundant to him. His mind was still in the 1940s where you’d find a date, what would now be classed as, the old fashioned way. By looking in person and talking. Not just texting or swiping left or right on an app.

Granted, Bucky did try his hand in online dating but it was far too much for him. It wasn’t only hard for him to figure out but also he saw too much of people he didn’t even know. The openness of the internet was something that was mind boggling to him. So that was thrown out of the window pretty quickly.

But what his therapist had failed to note was one name in his contacts. The name of his neighbour and quite possibly the one he wanted to end his loneliness with.

Back in his time, when he didn’t just have the looks of someone in their 20s, Bucky was in fact quite popular and good with the ladies. But the ladies, he found, of this new age were completely different to the ones of his time. Not that there was a problem, he just knew that he couldn’t used the same moves now as what he could back then.

He met (Y/N), his neighbour, as he was first moving in. After coming back, loosing Steve and getting a pardon, Bucky thought it be best to try and start a new. He did that by moving back to his old home of Brooklyn. His old apartment was obviously gone and with little money to his name he couldn’t afford the one that replaced it. It was far to big for him anyway. But he managed to find a smaller more affordable one and he much preferred it. If not only for the quieter location then the others in the building too.

(Y/N) was the first person he spoke too when back in Brooklyn. She was sweet and kind when introducing herself. She offered to help him move in but he really didn’t have that much stuff to use in making his new apartment more homely. And he had no food either. So (Y/N) did the neighbourly thing and invited him in for some food. A meal of sorts although she didn’t have much food either at the time. Even so, it was nice for him to be in company for once. And it was such warm company. They didn’t speak about much but he learnt a few things about her.

And now, on most Thursday evenings, he’ll find himself with her in her apartment eating a meal, sometimes she’ll cook, sometimes they’ll order take out, but he enjoys it regardless.

It was clear from the offset that she knew who he was. He frantically explained to her that he wasn’t what he used to be anymore and explained the terms of his pardon and how he’s making amends. But he needn’t have waste his breath on it. She didn’t seem to care about it. About who he used to be. She told him that she doesn’t live in peoples pasts and that she wanted to get to know him for who he is, not who he was. Those words meant a great deal to him. And from that moment on he had fallen for her.

Bucky sighed as he dragged himself up the stairs to his floor. He desperately wished there was some way of getting out of these therapy sessions. But he was tied to them. He couldn’t stop going to them even though he wanted too. But there, it wasn’t really like he had anything better to do. Nothing but either sitting at home in silence or walking around busy streets constantly looking over his shoulder. Those were his only other options.

As he walked to his apparent at the end of the hallway (Y/N)’s door opened and she walked out dressed for the outdoors, it was getting cold so it was smart of her to be wearing a warm coat. “(Y/N)” he called gently to her. She lifted her head after locking her door and gave him a warm smile.

“Hi James” She said, she always called him James rather than Bucky. He didn’t know why but he didn’t exactly mind. “How was your session today?” She had memorised the times at which he went to his therapy sessions. She probably knew he schedule better than he did.

Bucky shrugged “the usual” he told her making her laugh a little.

“That bad huh?”

“I guess” he said scratching the back of his neck.

“Well, I’m heading to the store to get some food if you wanted to talk on the way? Don’t feel you have to”

“No, that sounds good” he tried to smile but it was a little awkward, but she didn’t seem to say anything and just motioned her head for him to follow.

The shop wasn’t too far away so it was a quick walk. Bucky wasn’t the talkative type, not really anyway. Especially not to someone he didn’t like. And Dr Raynor was someone who he didn’t like. He was sure that deep down she was a lovely person but he didn’t like the fact she was insistent in getting him to admit his feelings. Although that was her job.

It wasn’t long until they arrived at the store “so what happened?” (Y/N) asked as she picked up a basket.

“Just the usual...she asked me if I had a nightmare-“

“Did you?” Bucky didn’t answer and just looked away from her. “James, you know that it’s her job to help you. And it’s in your best interest to let her”

“I know...but at the same time...I don’t see the point. These things are mandatory. So if I don’t want to go then I don’t see it being helpful”

“I can understand that” her eyes flicking between two boxes of cereal as she inwardly decried in which one to get, but her indecisive nature got the better of her so she opted to get both. Her indecisiveness, Bucky thought, was incredibly cute. It linked in with her kindness, on their Thursday evening meals together it takes ages just to decide what to have. “But still,” she continued, Bucky following her like a lost puppy “like you said, it’s mandatory. And there are people who would love to be in your position. Getting therapy I mean. So you should at least make the most of it while you can”

“I mean...yeah. I guess. But...I don’t know I just...well it’s easier to talk to someone like you then it is to talk to her” (Y/N) smiled at little at this as she finished putting on the last few items before making her way to the till.

Neither of them said much else. Expect for (Y/N) making light conversation with the cashier as she paid although both (Y/N) and Bucky knew that the cashier really didn’t want to be there. Luckily it didn’t take long for (Y/N) to bag her items and pay for them before they were both leaving the store.

It had gotten colder outside then when they left originally. (Y/N) shivered and pulled her coat around her a little more before they both began walking back to their apartment building.

“So what is it about me that makes you find it easier to talk?” She asked, she brushed her hair from her face as a sudden gust of wind blew it out of place when she turned to look at him.

“Well...” he muttered shoving his hands into his pockets “for one, you don’t sit there with a passive aggressive notebook ready to write shit about me” this made her laugh a little, she always found it funny when he’d talk about this notebook Dr Raynor had. She didn’t really know why he hated it so much, and she knew she shouldn’t have found it funny but he never stopped her from laughing about it, in fact often times he would join in thereby encouraging her.

“Yes, that is something better I guess. Although, I’m sure I could find a notebook if you wanted” she teased.

“Oh god. Please don’t” He said holding back a smile.

“Anything else?” She asked him.

Bucky thought for a moment. There were many things about her that made it easier for him to talk to her, but he couldn’t list them all. For one, that would be embarrassing, and two he didn’t think he’d have the breath to do it. “Well-“

He was cut off when he saw (Y/N)’s smile fall and her pace began to slow right down to a stop. Bucky stopped and looked at her “everything okay?” He asked her, his voice full of concern.

She turned sharply to the side so she was facing the road “y-yeah..” she stuttered nervously “just...my ex is walking this way and I really don’t want him to see me”

Bucky felt a strange feeling inside him. He didn’t even know she had been in a relationship. It must’ve been a recent thing right? Unless it was a really bad break up in the past, or this guy had done something to her to prompt her being so on edge. Bucky turned to try and scope out this guy but he didn’t have a clue what he was looking for. So he reached over to her and pulled up her hood on her hoodie that she wore under her coat and pulled her into his side so that her face was hidden from view.

“Tell me when he’s gone” Bucky muttered to her. She nodded her head and let him walk her along the path, she kept her eye on the path ahead as best she could while still covering her face. But she was now more focused on two things, his arm around her and his wonderful smell. Never did she think she’d ever get this close to him. She never thought he’d let her, but here she was attached to his side with his arm wrapped around her, holding her protectively against him.

And his smell. It was just as comforting as she dreamed it would be. A mix of his cologne and what she could only describe as Him. All she wanted to do now was to just melt into his strong and warm embrace and just stay there forever.

In all her daydreaming she didn’t notice that her ex had long since walked by and they had reached the entrance to their apartment building and she didn’t tell him he could let go or that it was safe for her to walk properly.

Bucky came to a stop and slowly slipped his arm from her “I mean...I take it he’s gone now right?” He said a little nervously. (Y/N) stood up straight and pushed the hood from her head and nodded quickly, her cheeks burning in embarrassment.

“Yeah. Yes, right. Sorry. Yes. He’s gone. I um...I just wanted to make sure he didn’t suddenly turn around you know? That’s all” she said in an unconvincing tone. But Bucky himself was too flustered to actually care that she was flustered as well.

“Of course, that’s smart. Well we made it back” he said stepping up to the door and pushing it open for her. She nodded and thank you and quickly hopped inside the building, Bucky following after her.

The walk up the stairs was an awkward silence. They felt like teenagers after their first ever date. Who says something first? What do they even say? Luckily for them, this wasn’t a first date, and they weren’t teenagers. They were fully grown, mature adults. But that doesn’t mean adults can’t get flustered in the presence of their crush...right?

After what felt like hours, but was more like five painstaking minuets, they finally got to their floor and walked down the hall, both briefly forgetting that they lived right next to each other.

(Y/N) stopped at her door and placed her bag of food on the floor to fish out her keys from her pocket. “Uh...you want to come in?” She asked whilst fiddling around in her pocket to find the keys. “I know it’s not Thursday but we didn’t really talk as much as usual...” her voice seemed to trail off as she finally found her keys and put them in the key hole before unlocking the door. “You don’t have too..”

“I’d...like to...” he said in a soft voice with a gentle smile to try and put her at ease even though he too was freaking out inside. She smiled back and picked up her bag before walking inside her apartment, he did too.

They both made their way into her small kitchen and he made himself at home by sitting in his usual seat at her white kitchen table and she began to unpack the shopping “Do you want me to help?” He asked her as he went to stand up but she waved off his offer.

“No no, it’s fine. There’s only a few bits anyway” she told him as she began to pack each item away in its rightful place.

“So uh...” Bucky began quietly as he scraped his metal finger again the wood table. “This ex of yours...what’s the story there?”

Bucky was a little cautious of his words. He didn’t want to say anything to hurt or offend her but at the same time he wanted to know what about the guy made her so on edge earlier.

“Oh uh...” she muttered as she pulled two cups from her cupboard.

“You don’t need to tell me if you want want to. Sorry..”

“It’s fine” she assured him “nothing really happened I guess. It was just a bad break up. He didn’t really take it well and for a few weeks after that he just kept texting me and trying to call me. He came round to my place too to try and get me back. He never did know how to take no for an answer. But about a month ago he finally got the message and stopped all contact with me. Seeing him today...I was just worried that he’d try it all again”

“He sounds like a real asshole” Bucky said flatly making her laugh a little as she went about making some tea for the both of them. “But in his defence, if I lost a girl like you, I’d struggle with taking no for an answer as well”

(Y/N) let out a nervous laugh and almost dropped his tea cup from the shock of his comment but she was a little more used to his flirtatious nature that would sometimes make an appearance when they were in her apartment. After he told her about his boyish charms back in the 40s she noticed how he would often slip back into that era. It was cute to say the least.

She set down his tea in front of him and he flashed her a “thank you” smile before wrapping his fingers around it.

There was a brief silence in the room. She was greatly over thinking is earlier comment. But so was he. Maybe he shouldn’t have said it. He meant it though. But what if he had pushed the limit a little too far?

“What was the other reason?” She asked him, her finger nail scratching again the tea cup trying to avoid eye contact with him at all costs.

“Huh?” He questioned looking over the table to her.

“Earlier. You were going to give me another reason why I’m easier to talk to. What was it?”

Bucky’s muscles tensed as his fingers gripped the tea cup handle as he stared into the black tea she had made for him. “If I’m being honest...” he began slowly “I think...there are too many reasons why I find talking to you easier. But I guess one is that you don’t do it because you have to or it’s your job to. You do it out of kindness. And it’s...easier to talk to someone who’s listening because they want to. And yes, I get that Dr Raynor probably does want to help me but I also know that at the end of the day, it’s all for a pay check. But with you...you do it because you want to. Or at least...I think you want to”

“I do want to, James. I’ll always be around to ask if you’re okay. And to make you okay when you’re not. I care about you...”

“And...I care about you. Another reason I prefer talking to you is because...I like you...a lot. I just think you’re the most beautiful woman, and you have such a sweet and caring nature and a good heart that is wasted on me. But I can’t help but like you...” he couldn’t really believe he just said what he did. He wasn’t mean to tell her that. It was meant to stay a secret within him into the end of time. But there was a shift in atmosphere that just made it all slip out.

“You...you like me?” She asked, still not looking at him.

“Yeah...” he said. There was a little more confidence in his voice as he admitted his feelings towards her.

“I like you too..” she too held a little more confidence in her voice as she admitted her returned feelings. It felt...good. Especially since she knew he returned the feelings she had harboured for him since they met.

She stood abruptly and held her hand out to him. He looked at it and looked up at her again before taking her hand. She pulled him to his feet and a little close to her.

He smirked a little as he looked down at her “you want me to kiss you or something?” He said almost proudly.

“Yes..” she said “but first...I want to know something”

“What do you want to know?” He asked her. She squeezed his hand and dragged him out of her kitchen.

She lead him to her bedroom and noticed the worried expression on his face when he looked at her bed. This was what she wanted to know.

“You don’t have a bed in your apartment...” She told him quietly. (Y/N) turned her body so she was facing him completely, he cautiously lifted his hands to settle on her waist.

“I know...” he mumbled.

“Why?”

Bucky paused but he felt safe enough to give her an honest answer “I...I’m...scared. Of them”

“What is it about a bed that scares you?” She whispered, her fingers gently trailing down his cheeks. Bucky didn’t answer right away, for one he was to busy focusing of the beautiful touch of her hands, and for another, he didn’t really know the answer to her question. But he could take a guess.

“Because I...I don’t think I’ve slept in one since 1943. And I...after everything I’ve done...I don’t deserve to lie in such luxury...” his voice was quiet and barely audible, had it not been for the close proximity they were in, she probably wouldn’t have heard him.

“James...” she laid her forehead against his and he instinctively griped her waist a little tighter. The comfort and warmth she was bringing him was something he didn’t want to loose. She was someone he didn’t want to loose. He felt safer with no one but her. For once he actually felt...okay. But he felt he was holding her too tightly, but if he was she was wasn’t willing to tell him that.

“You know that you have no reason to be afraid. You are changing. You are becoming a good man. You do deserve to live in luxury, even if that starts with sleeping in a proper bed. Maybe it is scary for you...but...if you’ll allow me, I’ll help you face it”

“Please...” he whispered with a nod before pressing his lips to hers.

05/04/21

Taglist: @lunaserenade @phoenixhalliwell @slytherin4ever

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Sebastian Stan #tfatws #marvel #fluff #angst #fanfic