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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

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A Year Gone By | dark!Bucky Barnes x reader

happy birthday @nsfwsebbie!!

it was supposed to be a surprise but then I couldn’t stop myself from telling you I was writing something, I managed to keep most of it under wraps though! I hope the suspense pays off.

idk if it’s weird that i made it a doctor reader when you’re not a doctor but listen...half the fun of reader insert is getting to vicariously live through a cool career right?? the other half of the fun is the obvious thing. and it seemed a little creepy if i made the reader exactly like you but if you want it to be more accurate i will totally write you something with actual you in it lol

ANYWAYS I hope you enjoy it and most of all I hope you have a lovely, relaxing, fun birthday. and i hope it makes you h word lmao. ily darling <3

warnings: noncon, dubcon, stalking/kidnapping, ddlg, loss of virginity, bondage, oral sex (m and f receiving), anal sex, d/s, pet play, degradation, painful sex/pain kink, cockwarming, breeding, somnophilia (slightly), spitting, pregnancy mention, breeding kink, mention of drugging... I think that’s everything.

word count: just over 15.5k (YIIIIKES my bad)

Bucky always looked forward to appointments with you. It wasn’t just because he had a crush on you, honest; you really were the best doctor he ever had. Then again, between chain-smoking Brooklyn doctors who handed out morphine like candy and cruel Nazi or Soviet scientists, you weren’t competing with anybody too incredible.

“It’s not so bad,” he bluffed, but he couldn’t hide the wince when you touched his bruise.

“You’re not a very good liar, Sergeant,” you told him with a smile. God, he loved when you called him that. He hoped his body wouldn’t react to it in any uncomfortably obvious ways. “Honestly, I’m a little worried about the bones. I want to do an X-ray, if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead,” he shrugged, “but you’re probably worrying too much.”

“You plan to walk off a compound fracture?” you scoffed.

“Bet I could, if you kiss it to make it better,” he smiled. He was expecting you to giggle a little at the casual flirtation, which you did, but he was surprised when you bit your lip at the end of it. That made it impossible to stop his cock from getting a bit interested, but thankfully it was still easy enough to hide. Clearly his casual flirting was starting to get to you, and it made him especially impatient but he tried to stay calm.

“I’m a good doctor, but I’m not that good. A prescription will do more for you,” you replied as you wrote something in his chart-- presumably that he needed to go down the hall for some x-ray work.

“If you say so.”

“Anything else bothering you?” you asked him.

“Oh, no, I won’t waste your time,” he dismissed.

“I’m getting paid, don’t worry,” you laughed. “I don’t have any more appointments until after lunch. Is there anything else going on?”

He shifted a little, the paper on the examination table crinkling as he did it. “Um… it’s nothing, I just--” he glanced up at you but then looked away again, still embarrassed to admit it-- “I’ve had a little trouble sleeping…”

“Nightmares?” you pressed. “Or general insomnia?”

“Um, nightmares,” he finally admitted, “not as bad as normal. The meds helped. Just… I still get them sometimes.”

“How many nights a week would you guess?” you asked. But you didn’t look to his chart like it was a quiz or something, you kept looking at him with patience and compassion. That was what really made his heart melt.

“Probably 2 or 3.”

“So we’re down from 6 to 7,” you remembered from what he’d said before you’d given him the medication he was on now, “that’s good. That’s progress. But, maybe we need to up your dosage if you haven’t seen better results after 4 weeks. You haven’t missed any doses, have you?”

He tried to fight his embarrassed smirk but it was too late.

“Bucky!” you scolded playfully. “I can’t up your dosage until you’re actually being consistent on the amount you already have, okay? I know it can be easy to forget but you have to stay on it. Set a timer on your phone or something if you need to.”

He nodded, but the problem wasn’t forgetting to take them as much as it was being ashamed that he needed them at all. But he’d stay on them if it made you happy.

“Anything else? Headache, twisted ankle, burns when you pee?”

He laughed and shook his head. “No, I think that’s everything.”

“Great, then I’ll let you get to your newly-booked X-ray appointment.” You handed him a sheet of paper for him to take to the X-ray office which informed the nurses there what angles you wanted on his ribs. “Just know that you can call me if you need anything, alright?”

He took the slip of paper but suddenly couldn’t respond, too lost in looking at you and wondering if you’d felt that same jolt of electricity when his hand brushed yours.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“You take care of so many people,” Bucky pondered aloud, “I just wonder if someone takes care of you.”

He could tell by your face that you didn’t like the way his tone shifted, but he refused to backpedal. Just this once, he wanted to see you squirm a little bit.

“Wanna lollipop?” you asked him nervously as you handed him the plastic-wrapped red sucker in offering, but he waved it away.

He spent the rest of the afternoon thinking about how you would look with the cherry lollipop in your mouth: the way it would push your cheek out from the inside, stain your lips and tongue bright red, make your mouth taste like pure sugar.

Of all the things he’d imagined before, that was the one that made him realize it couldn’t just be a fantasy anymore. Thankfully, he hadn’t just been thinking of all the filthy things he wanted to do to you; he’d also been coming up with a plan.

The first thing you perceived when you woke up was the smell. It didn’t smell like your room. Such a simple difference, one you hadn’t even realized you would notice, but one that stood out instantly.

You opened your eyes and instantly spun your head around when you saw the grey cement room you were in. The bed underneath you creaked, unlike your bed, and you looked down at it as if you somehow expected to be in an unknown room but still be in your own bed.

It was then that you realized you were restrained with, of all things, satiny pink rope which pulled each of your limbs to the nearest bedpost. There was enough slack that you could wiggle around some, but it wasn’t exactly roomy either. Your heart raced as you pondered who could have possibly done this, and why.

You startled when you heard the door open, but relaxed when the menacing form suddenly struck you as familiar.

“Bucky,” you sighed with relief, “oh thank god you’re here-- quick, help untie me.”

As soon as you said it, though, you realized something wasn’t right. He didn’t look concerned at all, or confused. And that should be a good thing because it meant he had answers, except that you were suddenly realizing this was more complex than you were prepared for.

“Bucky… where are we?” you asked him, quieter, as you realized that he was not going to untie you immediately. Even still you were coming to terms with the possibility that it wasn’t really a matter of where we were and where, specifically, you were.

“Somewhere safe,” he answered simply, stepping closer.

You didn’t exactly believe that.

“Please, help untie me,” you requested again.

“I will,” he assured, “but I want to explain something first.”

Your heart sank straight through your stomach. You didn’t understand what was going on quite yet, but you were getting the gist enough to know that this was really fucking bad.

“Bucky,” you pleaded as he sat down beside you on the bed, “please let me go.” You felt very aware of how thin your pajama set was, how if he tried hard enough he could see your nipples hardening underneath your top for no apparent reason.

“Don’t get upset,” he soothed, “everything’s fine. I’m not going to hurt you-- nobody will anymore. You’re gonna stay here, with me, and I’m gonna take care of you.”

Your eyes burned with tears you couldn’t fight anymore. “Don’t do this,” you begged, “I’m your friend-- we’re friends, remember?”

“Of course I know that,” he sighed, “but that’s not enough. Couldn’t you tell I’d fallen in love with you?”

You shook your head, trying to process everything you were hearing. “This is insane. This is not what you do when you have feelings for somebody, Bucky.”

“What, you’re saying I should’ve just asked you out?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have been able to say yes-- because you’re my patient--”

“See? That’s what the ropes are for!” he smiled, like he was actually proud of his problem-solving skills. “You would’ve said yes if you could, I know. But you couldn’t. And now you don’t have to.”

You resented that he was right, that you would’ve dated him in a heartbeat if it wasn’t an ethical violation. You got the sense there were going to be even more severe ethical violations in your future, though.

You continued to beg him to stop, but it fell on deaf ears as he reached under the elastic waistband of your pajama shorts and pulled them down slowly. He gasped when he saw your pussy and you wished you could just disappear, turn invisible or, best of all, teleport out of here; anything to avoid this humiliation.

“Baby, you’re wet,” he observed. You weren’t sure if the first or second half of the sentence made you more uncomfortable, but either way, you couldn’t stop the shivers from dancing up your spine. “This all for me? Do you like being tied up?”

You refused to answer, looking to the side as if the concrete wall was suddenly fascinating to you, but he grabbed your jaw and turned you to look at him.

“I know you don’t know all the rules yet, but here’s the first one, and maybe the most important: answer me when I speak to you.”

It was cold but not quite threatening; still scared you senseless, though. You nodded.

“Do you like being tied up?” he repeated.

“N-no,” you answered.

“Answer honestly,” he specified.

You had, but you realized it was going to be safer to do what he wanted, so you cleared your throat and spoke again.

“Yes,” you whispered, “I like… being tied up.”

“That’s it?” he pressed. “It’s not me being here, is it? You never got wet when you saw me in appointments?”

This was going to be a lot harder than you anticipated. It seemed like there was no right answer.

“Didja ever get wet for somebody else? It was Steve, wasn’t it?”

“No!” you instinctively answered. “Um, I like Steve. But just as a friend.”

“Aw,” he smiled, “I knew you were the loyal type. Remember just a minute ago when you were begging me to stop cause you were my friend? I think you were lying then too, doll. You didn’t want to be just friends with me.”

“Whatever you’re going to do, just do it,” you grimaced. “I’m getting irritated.”

You yelped when he slapped the inside of your thigh, trying to pull away but only making it easier for him to dip under your leg so that he was between them, sitting back on the bed in front of you.

“Respect gets you a long way with me,” he promised, pulling a knife from a strap on his thigh and using it to quickly cut off the shorts. “Sass does not.”

You winced as he slipped a finger into you-- metal, and it was cold, too. Soothed the burn a bit, at least.

“Oh god,” he sighed, “just one finger and it barely fits…” You watched realization pass over his face as his gaze moved to your eyes. “Baby, are you a virgin?”

You closed your eyes because you knew they would reveal the truth. In all honesty it was probably better that he knew so there was at least some chance of him going easy on you, and yet you were still embarrassed for him to find out.

“Oh, you’re going to spoil me,” he grinned. “You really are too good to be true.”

A second finger pushed into you and a bite to the lip suppressed your moan.

“I’ll warm you up first, don’t worry,” he cooed. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Then why did you tie me up?”

“That’s for your safety, baby. I don’t wanna have to hurt you,” he clarified.

A third finger, immediately after you had adjusted to the second. You had never had so much inside you before and it made you feel a bit dizzy. His thumb grazed over your clit and you nearly jumped right off the bed as your hips bucked suddenly-- since when were you so sensitive?!

“Oh, poor little baby, you need it so bad,” he faux-pouted. You couldn’t tell if it was a mockery or genuine concern. “You’ll get it angel, don’t worry. Daddy’s gonna take care of you.”

That word made you feel a little sick. No wonder he needed to kidnap girls to get his rocks off, clearly this was the kind of stuff a normal date wouldn’t agree to.

Then again, it was Bucky Barnes. He could probably get any girl he wanted, even if he had some weird tastes. You still didn’t understand why it had to be you, specifically.

His thumb stayed on your clit, the pressure moving from teasing to firm to nearly too much. You tried to angle your hips away but the ropes stopped you (of course), and you were forced to take every sensation he gave you.

“You’re trying so hard to stay quiet, just let go,” he encouraged. “I wanna hear how good I make you feel.”

“Maybe I’m just naturally quiet,” you bluffed, but even just those few words were strained, and surrounded by panting as you failed to catch your breath.

“Oh, we both know that’s not true. I’ve heard you when you thought you were alone, doll.”

You knew what he must have meant, but it still made you whimper when he leaned in to whisper in your ear: “I heard you touching yourself.”

Your face was burning and you were sure you’d never blushed so hard in your life. You couldn’t be sure how much he’d heard, but just the way he smiled down at you made you sure he must have heard the times that his name passed your lips as you reached your peak.

Of course he couldn’t just let you stew in that, he had to mock you even further.

“Oh Bucky,” he recalled, raising the pitch of his voice a little, “please let me come, I’m so close, please…”

“Stop,” you begged, tears sliding down your temples. The fingers twisted inside you as both of you groaned.

“Yeah, it’s not a very good impression,” he sighed, “it’ll sound better when you do it. Don’t you wanna moan for me again?”

“You stalked me,” you realized aloud, “you spied on me at night, you kidnapped me--”

“And now we’re both getting what we want. I know you wished it was my fingers instead of yours. Doesn’t it feel good baby? Admit it. Tell me it feels good.”

You were determined to resist until he pulled his fingers out and used the metal hand to slap your pussy, both of you gasping at the wet noise it made. He did it again and your hips bucked wildly even as you were trying with everything in you not to react. One more and you finally moaned, the pain brief but strong while the pleasure never seemed to lessen.

“Just be honest,” he demanded, “I know you love it. I just need you to say it.”

One more spank and you were finally willing to cut your losses. “It feels good!” you exclaimed. You cried out when he hit you again, not having seen it coming at all since you’d done as he asked. “Say it again.”

“It feels good, Bucky, your fingers feel good,” you whimpered.

He finally seemed to calm down, giving you an oddly friendly smile. “Was that so hard?”

You shook your head, just trying to appreciate the stillness while you could.

“One little thing though: you don’t call me Bucky anymore. My friends call me Bucky; you’re so much more special than that. You’re my perfect little angel, and you call me Daddy.”

You saw it coming, but it didn’t make it any less awful. You squirmed a bit as he pushed up your top, biting his lip when he got a glimpse of your breasts.

“Oh, when did these get hard, huh?” he smiled as he tweaked your nipples between his fingers.

“It’s… cold in here,” you explained uncomfortably.

“Uh huh,” he pretended to believe you. “Don’t worry, we’ll find a way to warm you up.”

He let go of your tits so he could pull back and start undoing his belt; you swallowed dryly, not wanting to watch but unable to look away.

Of course he was big. It explained his personality, and you’d had your suspicions (and/or fantasies), but now all it did was scare you.

“Will it hurt?” you asked weakly. He smiled as he pulled off his shirt from behind his neck, tossing it aside.

“No baby, I stretched you with my fingers so you can take me. Might be a little bit of an adjustment at first, but we’ll go slow, okay?”

You couldn’t decide if it was sweet or patronizing. A little of both, perhaps.

He leaned over you, resting one hand beside your head as the other guided his cock to rub through your folds. You struggled again, barely able to process that this was actually going to happen, that you were going to lose your virginity tied up in some creepy sex dungeon to an obsessive patient who demanded you call him ‘Daddy.’ This wasn’t exactly the situation you had been saving it for.

“Ready for me, baby? Want me to make you mine?” he asked with a look of excitement, even vulnerability. Your body craved more after he’d left you dangling on the edge from his fingering, but your brain was thankfully still functioning properly.

“Please don’t,” you whimpered, “you can stop now, and I won’t tell anyone, and--”

“Baby, don’t talk like that,” he frowned. “This is it, okay? Us. Just us. Nobody else to get in the way. You’re not gonna tell anyone ‘cause there’s no one to tell.”

“You can’t,” you denied, “I have a life-- people who care about me, who are going to notice that I’m gone--”

“No, babygirl, stop-- you’re not listening to me,” he growled. “Stop fighting. You’re mine. You’re finally where you belong.”

“This is crazy,” you spat, “you’re crazy!”

“Baby…” he looked dejected, crestfallen. “You’re the only one who’s ever helped me feel normal again. If I’m crazy it’s only because I love you so much; I need you, doll.”

“You need intensive psychiatric care!”

Sadness shifted to anger as he sat back and stuffed his cock back into his trousers, even though it barely fit now that it was fully hard and leaking from the tip.

“I realize now I’ve given you more than you can handle. I knew you liked me back so I figured you would understand a little sooner but… I should’ve known you need more time before you really admit to yourself that you need someone to take care of you.”

Your relief shifted to fear when he stood back up off the bed and stepped away.

“Wait, don’t leave me here,” you squeaked, “untie me, please.”

Instead he knelt down and pulled a box out from under the bed. You couldn’t see what was inside when he opened it, but he seemed to find what he was looking for when he pulled out a vibrator and shut the lid. It was thin and a little curved, so when he roughly shoved it into you it hit right on your g-spot. You tried to squirm away but he held your hips down and turned it on to a setting that strobed the vibrations, teasing your spot but never giving you enough to get very far.

“I’ll come back when I think you’ve learned your lesson,” he informed you quickly as he started to leave the room.

“Bucky-- Bucky wait!” you called after him. “There’s no food or water you can’t leave me here wait don’t go BUCKY!”

But he was long gone. The door slammed behind him and echoed around the room; only when the sound was completely dead were you sure that he wasn’t coming back any time soon.

You had no way of knowing how much time had passed, but it felt like an eternity of you wiggling against the ropes, trying to either knock the vibrator out of you somehow or get it to move enough that you could at least come and feel some relief. Trying to push it out with your muscles was useless since the curved shape kept it inside of you, and you couldn’t arch your back enough to press it into the bed-- and if you could, you weren’t sure what good that would do.

Every once in a while the vibration would echo through your clit and it made your eyes water. You sobbed and bit your lip, hoping he would come back soon.

It was at least twice as long before he did, and at that point your voice had gone hoarse from calling out to him. You cried out for Bucky at least a hundred times and got nothing; but when you called for ‘Daddy’ just once, he suddenly appeared.

Somehow his return didn’t bring much relief, because you weren’t exactly safe with him around… but at least you weren’t alone.

He reached between your legs and turned the vibrator off, though he left it inside of you. You took a deep breath and appreciated the stillness, though your body panged with hunger from so much pleasure with no release.

“I hated doing that to you,” he breathed deeply as he sat beside you on the bed, “but it had to be done. You were behaving so poorly. I’ve gone easy on you up until now but I can’t tolerate any more rebelliousness, alright?”

You nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his disappointment sink over you.

When he pulled out the vibrator, the tip of it grazed over your abused and sensitive g-spot and you bit back a groan. He set it aside and admired the mess you’d made; you couldn’t see it, of course, but you could tell that there was a wet patch of arousal beneath you on the sheets.

“Your body is ready for me, but I’m not sure your mind is right yet,” he explained, steely gaze finally meeting yours. “Are you going to be good, little girl?”

You were too exhausted to notice the nickname, or even to speak your reply. You just nodded again, watching him as he started unlacing his boots and slipped them off, then took his socks, trousers, and underwear off along with them.

Shit, you’d nearly forgotten how big he was. You swallowed with a dry throat and closed your eyes, just hoping it would be over with quickly.

“Open your eyes babygirl, I wanna look at you,” he murmured, running a finger across your cheek. You reluctantly obeyed and saw him hovering above you. He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips and it felt so wrong, so empty and peculiar. It was a weak facsimile of what a kiss was supposed to be like. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers into your hair, and it had all the trappings of the kind of kiss you’d share as a goodbye after a first or second date, but without any of the stuff that mattered like positive feelings or consent or not being in a creepy cement sex dungeon-- or whatever this was supposed to be.

He pulled away and looked down at you again, anger just starting to brew in his eyes. “Kiss me back,” he demanded. This time when he pressed his lips to yours, his tongue slid between them and it made you feel a little sick but you did your best to reciprocate. You found yourself trying to reach up to put your hands on his hair or neck but of course, the ropes made it impossible.

You felt his cock pressing between your thighs, rubbing up and down slowly, and your heart began to race. One hand slid between your bodies to guide his cock towards your entrance and he said something but you couldn’t hear it because your ears were ringing.

As soon as he pushed into you, your body jolted, trying to squirm away, but he just kept going, sliding into you in one long stroke.

Physically, it wasn’t painful. The vibrator had helped relax your walls, even numbed them a little bit. And yet, even without pain it was so much. You felt like the wind had been knocked out of you, like you were so full you couldn’t even breathe.

When he was fully seated inside you, Bucky moaned deeply, kissing your neck and mumbling something about how perfect you were. But all you could focus on was his cock pulling back only to slam home again.

“Fuck!” you yelped. You had no idea anything could be so deep inside you.

“Watch your language, angel,” he purred, biting at your earlobe. “You promised to be good, remember?”

The hand that had been gripping your thigh suddenly moved to rub your clit and you choked on a moan.

“It’s okay, it’s supposed to feel good,” he encouraged. “It’s okay to come, baby. I know how bad you wanna come for me.”

You were embarrassingly close as he had observed, a side effect of having been left on the edge for so long. You could feel your walls rippling around him, and you wondered if he could feel it, too. Every thrust stroked parts of you that you hadn’t even realized existed, and when he pushed as deep as he could into you, the tip of his cock hit something so sensitive that you genuinely couldn’t tell if it was painful or pleasurable.

“Are you close? I don’t know how much longer I can last, you’re so tight,” he groaned. “Fuck, you want me to fill you up don’t you? Wanna be full of Daddy’s cum?”

Before you could even consider ignoring his question, he wrapped his left hand around your neck.

“Yes, Daddy,” you croaked through the weight on your windpipe, “fill me up, please.”

Talking like that made your heart twist with shame but somehow pushed you even closer to your peak. You knew he could tell that you were turned on by it from the way your muscles tightened around him.

“I will baby, I promise,” he smiled. “Do you wanna beg to come, like you did when you were by yourself?”

You moaned because it was like a fantasy come true, in a monkey’s paw sort of way. This is what you had wanted, right? Just… in a way completely different from how it was turning out?

“Daddy, please,” you answered, so quiet and heavy with embarrassment that it was barely above a whisper, “please let me come.”

“Oh fuck,” he responded hoarsely as his thrusts came faster, more ragged. “Come, princess. I wantcha to scream for me.”

As you started to fall over the edge, you felt like you had lost control over your body; your arms and legs tugged at the ropes as jolts of pleasure coursed through them, and your mouth was spilling moans and whimpers and even his name. His real name, specifically, though he thankfully didn’t seem to mind. He kissed you again as he came, moaning into your lips and still inside you.

You felt cold and sticky and humiliated as he sat up and pulled out, admiring the way your hole leaked out his seed and flexed involuntarily around nothing.

“Oh look at you,” he praised, “my perfect little girl. You’re even more amazing than I dreamed, doll.”

You tried not to listen or watch him as he got off the bed, coming back with boxers on and a damp washcloth to clean you.

“I’m gonna untie you now, okay? Promise you won’t kick me or anything?”

You quickly nodded, willing to promise anything if it meant getting untied. “You’ll just do more harm to you than to me if you try anything, angel,” he reminded you quickly as he started work on your right ankle. The ropes were silky so they hadn’t been rubbing your skin too raw, but there was still soreness from the tight knots. You were a bit surprised when he gave your ankle and foot a brief massage once he was done untying the rope, and did the same to your other foot, and then your wrists and hands. It helped a lot with getting the blood flow back to normal, and you almost considered thanking him but that would’ve been ridiculous. ‘Hey, thanks for the foot massage, next time don’t tie me up and rape me first but, otherwise 10/10.’

Bucky was so impressed with the progress you’d made in a week. Only two escape attempts and you’d taken your punishment quite well both times. He had expected a rocky start, he’d understood what he was getting himself into, so none of it really came as a surprise. You’d managed to get a good crack at his nose once, kicking him straight between the eyes before making a run for it. Yes, it hurt like a bitch and took a few days to heal, but it had actually been a blessing in disguise; that day you’d made it out the front door and realized that you were in the middle of nowhere. When he’d caught up to you, you were standing barefoot and half-naked in the snow, not even running anymore because, apparently, you’d realized there was nowhere to run to.

“I built this place for us, for you,” he explained. “Somewhere far away, all to ourselves. Nobody for miles.”

“How many miles?”

He chuckled a bit to himself. “Baby, it’s a really big number. You’re too little to understand.”

Normally you resisted that sort of talk but this time it shut you up. Hopefully you were beginning to properly realize that this was your new life.

“Are we in New York?” you asked, quieter.

“I’m not sure if I should tell you that yet. I don’t want you to get any complicated ideas in that pretty little head,” he cooed, kissing your forehead for emphasis before leaving you behind to start cooking dinner.

“I’m not eating with these,” you announced firmly as he set your place at the table with a set of pink, rubber-coated utensils.

“It’s too messy to eat with your hands,” he frowned.

“Do you honestly not realize that I want to eat with normal utensils? Or are you just trying to drive me insane?”

Bucky set your plate down a little too firmly, making you and the food on top jump. “Don’t talk back to me.”

“I just… it’ll take me forever to finish an adult-sized portion of food with child-sized utensils.”

“Then maybe you’re not ready for an adult-sized portion,” he threatened. That seemed to get your attention, but you stayed quiet. “Maybe you’re not hungry at all?”

“I’m hungry,” you denied. “Please, I want to eat.”

“And I want to eat with you. But this roundabout is getting on my last nerve, doll. Now are you gonna be good and eat your dinner?”

“...yes, Daddy,” you sighed. He smiled and sat down across from you. You were learning. Slowly, but surely.

Bath time was always a fight, though. You still had some ridiculous notions about ‘privacy’ and ‘autonomy’ and crap like that, and it meant that you were likely to act up and refuse to be washed.

“I can do it myself!”

“But you don’t have to, don’t you see?”

“I want to.”

“The world doesn’t revolve around what you want, angel.”

“Let me guess: it revolves around what you want?” “No,” Bucky shook his head and tried to summon some more patience, “I have to take care of you. Sometimes that means doing things you don’t like, because I know what’s best for you.”

“I hate you,” you mumbled as you turned away, and that really broke his heart. He knew you didn’t really mean it, but it still hurt.

“Baby… don’t say that,” he pleaded as he turned your face to him. “It hurts Daddy’s feelings when you say things like that.”

“Yes, that was the idea,” you hissed. “I just want to take a shower, alone.”

“Any chance you had at that is long gone,” he grimaced. “What you’re getting is a bath, with me, and if you quit this attitude now you might still be able to avoid getting a spanking as well, do you understand?”

Your shoulders slumped as you nodded. He knew your poor little bottom was still sore from the last spanking, and as he helped you undress for the bath, he could still see a few welts along the skin. He kissed them quickly, a reminder to both of you what he was capable of, before helping you into the water and slipping in behind you. It was spacious, so there was ample room for the two of you, but he still held you close and pressed your back into his chest.

He had a lot of ideas about what you two could do in this bath, but he knew that now was not the time. Still, he let his mind wander and smiled to himself when you gasped from his erection pressing into your thigh.

He helped you wash your hair, and for that moment where your head was nearly submerged and he was using his fingers to massage out the shampoo, you looked so peaceful. He normally only got to appreciate this look on your face as you slept, but you were almost smiling this time, and it made his heart sing. A week of tantrums was worth it for just a few quiet moments like this.

“I’m gonna let you finish up on your own, okay? I trust you not to do anything dangerous…” he decided as he stepped out.

“Really?” your face instantly lit up. Sure, you’re never supposed to leave them alone in the bath, but he was feeling extra generous and he sympathized with your desire for control. Freedom could be good for you, in moderation.

“Of course.”

“T-thank you, Daddy,” you awkwardly responded.

He dried off and dressed, and waited nearby in the living room, listening to you drain the bathwater and start a shower.

You emerged wrapped in a towel and looking slightly lost.

"Honey, where are your clothes?" he asked you with a furrowed brow.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” you informed him. Oh, right. You were being resistant to wearing the clothes he had picked out for you. Apparently you found the overwhelming presence of baby pink to be tacky, and you hated that everything was cute and tiny… he couldn't understand seeing something cute and tiny and not liking it. After all, you were the most adorable thing he'd laid eyes on and it made it impossible not to like you. You just needed clothes to match.

“I have clothes laid out for you,” he explained.

“I’d rather be naked than wear what you pick for me,” you snarled.

“Hey, I wouldn’t complain,” he shrugged, trying to suppress his frustration. “Don’t come bitchin’ to me when you’re cold, though.”

You sat next to him on the couch, defiantly naked and confidently ignoring him. He admired your stubbornness, or at least he found it amusing.

“Do you wanna watch a movie now?” he asked, but he knew you had figured out that this was a mandatory activity.

“Don’t see any reason to wait,” you smiled sarcastically.

Of course, when he got up to show you some DVDs so you could pick what you wanted (Wall-E; he knew you didn’t actually want to watch that since your typical fare was horror and action movies, but it was your favorite of the options), he quickly turned down the thermostat. Perhaps a comfortable 55 Fahrenheit would help you remember why it’s important to take what Daddy gives you.

He hadn’t seen Wall-E before but he found it oddly relatable. A robot, built for someone else’s purpose, abandoned in a filthy, empty world… it brought back some old feelings that he managed to press back down.

Regardless, he was distracted from it when he could literally feel you shivering from across the couch.

“Are you cold, darling?” he asked presumptuously.

“No,” you denied, barely managing to suppress the chattering of your teeth.

“Do you want the clothes?”

“Shut up.”

He just laughed a little to himself, ignoring your rude language and turning back to the TV.

It did kill him a bit to have to pretend he didn’t care when you were obviously uncomfortable, but you would’ve been even more irritated with him if he’d held you down and forced you to put the outfit on.

This fucker was smart, you’d give him that. Or maybe it was just that you were stupid. Not stupid, really, but having no sense of self-preservation. Why had you chosen this hill to die on? You couldn’t even remember why you’d put up a fight at all. You were so cold that you couldn’t even understand what could’ve ever compelled you to reject an offer of clothes. Didn’t help that you knew he was so close, that if you cuddled up to him you would be warm, but that it would mean the loss of your last shred of dignity.

Only a week and you were starting to completely lose your sense of yourself. You searched within and couldn’t find any of the fight you’d had so many times before. You remembered that time you kicked him right in the face, and where you once found pride at the memory, you found guilt. You felt guilty for hurting him, after everything he’d done to you-- why?

“B-bucky…” you finally relented not even an hour into the movie, stammering from the force of your shivers.

“Hm?”

“I want… I want the c-clothes.”

He smiled a little, in an insulting way. “Ask nicely, doll.”

“P-please, Daddy,” you whimpered.

He came back with the clothes in hand, but when you reached out for them, he shook his head and motioned for you to stand up. You sighed but obeyed, your entire body shaking with violent shivers as your bare feet hit the cool concrete floor.

He knelt down, holding the lace panties open for you as you shyly stepped into them. He pulled them up to your hips and let the elastic slap your skin a little as he let go, making you jump. He did the same with the fuzzy pink pyjama pants, running his hands over soft fabric for just a second as he stood up, helping you into the loose grey sweatshirt. It was the least feminine thing he’d ever let you wear, noticeably absent in anything pink or fuzzy or girly or adorned with bows. You only realized as it slipped over your head that it was his, because once you plunged into darkness inside of it, you were overwhelmed with the smell of him. You wouldn’t have known that you could recognize his smell, but now that you were in it, it was undeniable.

You were almost surprised to see him when your head popped through the neckline, somehow. It’s not as if you had forgotten he was there in the three seconds you couldn’t see him, just that he looked so different to you now. He had this stoic, nearly stern look on his face as he helped you get your hands through the sleeves, and the way he caressed your fingers as they emerged from the cotton was so upsettingly tender.

“Daddy…” you mumbled, and he looked back at your face.

“Is this better? Are you warmer?”

“My feet…” you realized, looking down at them.

“I’ll get you some socks, baby,” he nodded, dashing away for a moment. You felt colder with him gone. It couldn’t be loneliness, could it? Even knowing he’d only be gone less than a minute, you were unduly anxious for his return.

He came back and held your feet up by the ankle one at a time as he rolled pink fuzzy socks-- with lace at the ankle, of course-- over your feet. You wiggled your toes into them, finally feeling like you’d be able to get warm again.

“Let’s finish the movie, okay?” he suggested, rubbing his hands on your arms. You nodded, allowing him to guide you back to the couch and finding yourself cuddling into his side as he laid an arm over your shoulders.

You barely managed to pay attention as you felt his hand slip lower, resting on your waist. Then your hip, then your thigh.

Something about the way the lace panties rubbed against your pussy made you feel so oddly sensitive, and even the inside of his sweatshirt was just rough enough to make your nipples react every time you adjusted your position.

You figured he realized your condition pretty quickly, but he didn’t react until a moan, so quiet that you were sure he wouldn’t hear it, passed your lips.

“Everything alright, doll?” he asked, failing to hide the fact that he clearly knew the answer.

You didn’t respond, distracted by his other hand reaching over and stroking your thigh. You were caged in his embrace now, and your heart raced in a way that was oddly lacking in fear.

“Tell me what you’re feeling,” he demanded, watching your nervous reaction to his intensity.

“Daddy I… I feel tingly,” you murmured, feeling yourself blush.

“Where, baby?”

“D-down there,” you admitted as you forced your eyes shut, too embarrassed to look him in the face as you said it.

“You need Daddy’s help?”

“Please,” you whispered, hating yourself a little for needing him but too desperate to really care.

In one motion he’d already turned the TV off, pulled you onto his lap, and started kissing where the baggy neckline of the sweatshirt exposed your collarbone.

You were rubbing yourself on his thigh and you didn’t even know how to stop. It felt so good. It made your skin warm up even faster as you recovered from the cold.

He slipped his right hand into your pants as the other pulled you closer until your face was buried in his neck. If there was anything worth appreciating about Bucky, it was how good he was with his fingers. He knew your body better than you did at this point-- but then again, he had spent so much time exploring it in one week that he was probably competing with you already in terms of practice time.

“Oh my god,” you moaned as his fingers moved faster and firmer, making your hips jerk forward unexpectedly.

“It feels good?” he asked in that way that made it obvious he knew the answer.

“Yes, Daddy, it feels so good,” you whimpered. You’d gotten pretty good by now at appeasing him by performing the role he wanted you to play… so good, in fact, that it was starting to feel very real.

Just as you were grabbing onto his shoulders to hold you steady through your orgasm, he was pulling out his hand and reaching for his own pants instead.

“Need to be inside you,” he explained quickly as he pushed them down and revealed his hard, leaking cock. “I need to be inside you when I make you come.”

He helped you slide off your pants and underwear but pulled you back into his lap the absolute second they were discarded. He slid you down onto his cock with a groan, and your face was so hot as you processed how wet you were, how easily he entered you. Your joy halted, though, when he held your hips down. You tried to wiggle around for some friction but he was so strong that it was a complete waste.

“Daddy,” you mumbled with confusion, “what are you doing?”

“You’re mine, baby, ‘m gonna use you how I please,” he reminded you darkly, “and right now I want you to stay still and wait.”

“But--”

He slapped your ass harshly, and you whimpered but decided not to put up much more of a fight.

All the while as you tried to stay still, he was kissing your neck and jaw and cheeks, murmuring praises and leaving the softest bite marks every once in a while.

“Please let me move,” you sobbed against his shoulder, having to fight everything in you not to start grinding on him like your life depended on it.

“I’m not ready yet,” he denied.

“I’ll be good, I promise,” you whimpered. “I’ll do anything. I just need to come, and I need to make you come, please…”

With a hand on either side of your hips, he started to move you on top of him, excruciatingly slow. Your head fell back from how wonderful just that felt.

“Anything? You’re gonna spoil me talking like that, doll.”

“Oh god, anything, just move a little faster, please,” you begged. Of course you knew it was a bad idea, and you figured you were going to regret saying it, but your need was surpassing your sanity at the moment.

He grabbed your face and pulled you down until your lips were almost brushing his, but not quite. “Keep riding my cock, babygirl.” You nodded, finally free to pick up the pace to where you wanted it, and you bit your lip as his cock stretched you exactly how you needed it to.

“Daddy, you feel so good inside me,” you moaned.

“I can tell,” he smiled, “you’re making those perfect noises, it’s killing me not to flip you over and fuck you so hard right now.”

You were much more inspired by that mental image than you expected to be. Those few times he’d gotten really rough with you, it had made you so wet you thought you might get dehydrated.

When he spoke again, his voice was so low that it sounded like a growl, echoing in his chest and making shivers run up your spine. “I know what I want you to do for me.”

You swallowed and braced yourself as he pulled you even closer, looking right into your eyes.

“Tell me you love me,” he demanded.

You gasped, tears starting to burn at the back of your eyes. It was the last thing you expected, but it also tracked. Of course that was what he wanted. But now that you were trying to form words and nothing would come out, you were kind of wishing he’d just said he wanted anal.

“D-daddy,” you stammered, distracted by him grabbing your hips and moving you even faster on top of him. He was practically throwing you up and down on top of him, and somehow doing it effortlessly.

“Just say it,” he whispered.

“I love you,” you whispered back. He smiled and pulled you into a deep kiss, swallowing every moan as you felt yourself barrelling towards your peak.

“Please, I’m about to come-- can I come, Daddy?”

“Almost,” he nodded, “say it again, babygirl.”

“I love you,” you panted, “Daddy, I love you, please--”

“One more time,” he grunted, watching your face.

“I love you!” you yelped, unable to hold back your orgasm any longer and feeling your walls flutter as sensation washed over you. Thankfully he wasn’t far behind, only thrusting up into you a few more times before he spilled himself with a groan.

He kissed you long and slow, staying inside you even as his cock began to soften a little. When he pulled away, he looked up at you with an expression that brimmed with restrained excitement.

“Oh, doll, you have no idea how good it is to finally hear you say that,” he beamed. “We’re gonna be so happy here together… just me and my best girl, right?”

“Right,” you smiled, but as soon as you blinked a tear was rolling down your cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb.

“Don’t cry,” he soothed, “everything’s finally the way it’s supposed to be. You’re finally where you belong, with me.”

You nodded weakly and felt whatever grip you had on your sanity loosening. Dreams of escape faded as he carried you to bed, holding you in his arms all night long. You were beginning to embrace the simplicity of just letting life happen to you. For every time you felt belittled and patronized by his coddling, there was another time that you secretly felt protected and loved. The truth was, even though you had experienced so much that you couldn’t begin to describe in the past week, you had been relieved of so much of the stress you dealt with before. As you drifted to sleep, you only hoped that you could manage to hide that truth from yourself just a little bit longer.

He was honestly proud of himself for managing to keep his hands off you while you slept all this time. But it wasn’t too much longer before you woke him up with your stirring. At first he was just going to give you a quick hug and then get back to sleep, but then as he pulled you closer, he realized you were dreaming. And when you moaned quietly in your sleep, he realized it wasn’t just any dream.

He smiled to himself as he kissed your neck gently, wondering if you would wake up or not. It was sort of a win-win either way for him. He let his hands slide down your body, listening to your breathing as it began to pick up. Your mouth fell open and it made your sounds even more apparent as he carefully opened your legs.

“Oh baby, you’re drenched,” he murmured to no one in particular, admiring the way your pussy glistened in the low light of the room. This was one of those times that he really appreciated his choice to make you sleep naked almost every night.

One metal finger sliding through your folds made you shiver. He wondered if it was from arousal or if the metal felt cold on your warm skin. Your clit was swollen, and apparently extra sensitive from the way your sleeping body erupted in goosebumps when he drew lazy circles around it.

Suddenly lacking in the patience more foreplay would require, he found himself shoving down his boxers and stroking his cock, preparing to push into you. If that didn’t wake you up, he’d be slightly concerned… but he wasn’t sure if he’d be concerned enough to stop fucking you. Thankfully he didn’t have to face that dilemma because the second he was pressing his head into your opening, your eyes flew open.

“Daddy!” you yelped, your voice sounding a little strange as you were torn from your sleep.

He bottomed out and groaned softly, relishing how tightly you wrapped around him. “You looked so beautiful, baby, I couldn’t help myself.”

You mewled but said nothing, only wrapping your hands around his biceps as he pulled back to thrust into you again.

“What were you dreaming about?” he asked firmly.

“N-nobody-- I mean, uh, nothing,” you stumbled over your words.

“Oh, you can’t lie to me very well can you? It’s okay doll, you can tell me, but if it’s someone other than me I’m probably gonna kill him.”

He felt you tense up a little and he knew he’d scared you. He sort of wanted to do it again, because he loved the way your cunt tightened in that moment, but he decided against it.

“Aw, I’m just joking,” he dismissed, though he wasn’t quite sure if he actually was or not. “Go ahead, tell me what you were dreaming.”

“Y-you were there,” you explained, “but it wasn’t just you.”

“Is that so?”

“Um, yeah,” you deflected nervously.

“Go ahead, spit it out,” he hissed as he started to thrust into you a bit harder.

“Well, uh, Steve was there too,” you finally admitted. A lot of emotions hit him at once when he heard you say that. Of course jealousy was prominent, but it was different than it would’ve been before... you were home now, and nobody could take you away. Both of you knew that. So it might have been a slight blow to the ego, but he didn’t see Steve as a threat. What he did see was an opportunity to make you squirm, which he was always looking for.

“Was he watching us?” Bucky pressed.

“Uh, sort of…” you trailed off.

He leaned down, putting his lips right against your ear. “Was he fucking you?”

You whimpered but he could tell you were turned on. He reached down and roughly rubbed at your clit. “Be honest, darling.”

“He wasn’t,” you explained, “you were; you said he wasn’t allowed to… but I gave him a-- a blowjob.”

As much as Bucky wasn’t exactly the sharing type, he was intrigued by the mental image of you stuffed with cock at both ends like that. Even more so he was intrigued by the fact that it apparently turned you on.

“Is that what you want, huh? One cock isn’t good enough for you? Who knew you were such a fucking slut.”

“‘M not!” you denied.

“Then why are you soaked from dreaming about choking on somebody else’s cock while I fuck you, huh?”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“And how did you feel when I told Stevie he wasn’t allowed to fuck you? Even in your sleep you know your Daddy owns you. That this is my hole and I decide everything that happens to it.”

You moaned so loud that he was afraid he would come right then and there. You sounded like heaven. He thrust into you as hard and deep as he could, slamming into your cervix and hitting your clit with his pelvis with each brutal motion. You cried out and dug your nails into his skin.

“Fuck, you like it rough don’t you? Of course you do. ‘Cause you’re Daddy’s needy little whore.”

“Yes, I’m close!” you yelped.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m not gonna let you come until you beg for it. Seems like you need to remember that I’m the only one for you.”

“Just you, Daddy, I only want you!” you reassured, but he wasn’t buying it.

“I’d die before I let you get on your knees for another man, do you believe me babygirl?”

“Yes, I know Daddy, I’m yours, there’s nobody else.”

“If you wanna come you better start askin’ really nice,” he growled.

“Please, Daddy, I want you to make me come! It feels so good, please…”

“Keep going.”

“You’re amazing, your cock feels amazing, I wanna come for you so bad--”

“Fuck, baby, beg me to use you.”

He knew you were flustered by that.

“I-- I don’t know how,” you protested.

“Oh come on, you’re dumb but you’re not that dumb,” he grinned. “Just how I said it.”

“Use me,” you murmured in defeat, “please.”

“That’s it,” he praised, “just like that-- come for me, doll.”

You were so obedient, tightening around him and nearly screaming with pleasure the moment he commanded you to. He wasn’t far behind, succumbing to the perfection of your wet heat and filling it with his climax.

“Fuck!” he groaned when he hit the peak of it, trying somehow to focus entirely on both the way you felt and the way you sounded.

Normally he cleaned you up after this but right now he wanted his come to leak out of you all night, make your thighs and the sheets sticky. Apparently you had some sort of implant or something which kept you safe… he was trying not to count the days until it wore off. He figured you would totally lose it if he told you that he wanted to get you pregnant, and yet, he was surprised that you hadn’t asked him about getting your implant replaced.

You knew that life was unpredictable and all that, but if never in a million years would you have expected for the Winter Soldier to be painting your nails. But there he was, focused intently on each stroke of the tiny brush as he held your hand still.

“This’ll help you stop chewing your nails,” he gave as his excuse. It was almost believable, except that he did your toes too. Amazingly enough, you’d never chewed on those.

They were actually sort of pretty, if you were being honest. You admired them a little, as they dried. It wasn’t a perfect paint job by any means, but much better than you expected from Bucky and honestly, a bit better than you would’ve done it in all likelihood. The baby pink color was a little nauseating as always, but it admittedly did look nice with your skin tone.

“What do you say?” he prompted.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you smiled. “It looks nice.”

“You’re welcome, angel. I think so too. We’ll take ‘em for a spin when they’re dry.”

You swallowed. You had a pretty good idea of what that would entail.

Next was your hair. Pigtails, the way he always did it. You never quite understood what he liked so much about turning you into a girlier, more childish version of yourself, but you were finally embracing the things that you liked about being in this role. He certainly pampered you, which was hard to complain about. In your whole time here (you struggled to keep track but it must have been over a month now) you'd never cooked once.

After lunch he had you on your knees, looking up at him while you started to unzip his fly. You found yourself salivating a little as you pulled his half-hard cock out of his boxers.

“Baby, your hands are so small…” he noticed reverently. “Barely fit around it.”

“It’s not that they’re small, it’s that you’re so big,” you replied, more honest than you were used to being with him.

“You flatter me,” he grinned. “Do it some more.”

You felt put on the spot, but feared disappointing him. “Daddy, your cock is… so big,” you improvised, still stroking him as he got harder for you, “I can’t believe it fits inside me.”

“Hmm, it almost doesn’t,” he recalled.

“But it feels so good when-- when I get used to you and, um, your cock… stretches me…”

He groaned a little, and you moved your hand faster.

“Fills me up so good, Daddy,” you moaned, getting more into it than you had intended to. “Your cock feels so fucking good, it’s like it’s made for me--”

He cut you off suddenly by pushing you back onto the mattress, hovering over you as a muscular hand wrapped around your throat.

“Got quite the mouth on ya, doll,” he growled. “Do I need to wash it out with soap?”

You shook your head; he wasn’t choking you hard enough to stop you from speaking entirely if you had really wanted to, but you were too stunned to say much. His attitude could flip on a dime like this, and you could never see it coming. The fear made your heart race; the anticipation made your thighs clench together.

He smiled as he pulled back, letting go of your neck and reaching for his cock instead. “I can tell you’re worked up. Go ahead, touch yourself.”

You hesitated because typically that would be an infraction, but he nodded for you to continue as you nervously reached between your legs.

You gasped softly when you touched your clit: it was swollen, and especially sensitive. You hadn't realized how turned on you really were. Slowly, you started to rub circles around it as your hips rocked with your movements.

"Does it feel good?" he asked, and when you looked up at him, he was stroking himself as well. You nodded quickly. "'M gonna come on that pretty face, little one. Beg me for it."

"Daddy…" you murmured in shock, "I… want you to come on my face, please. Wanna be covered in it."

"You're not a good liar," he grinned. "I know you really want me to fuck you."

He wasn't wrong, so you nodded again and watched his hand speed up as it moved up and down his length.

"You poor thing," he cooed. "I fuck you daily and you're so disappointed to be going without, to just be getting my come on your face like the dirty little whore you are."

His words stung but your hand was moving faster between your legs.

"You're getting close, aren't you? Wait until I'm ready," he ordered. You swallowed dryly but slowed down a little to buy yourself some time.

He grunted a bit and you really hoped it was signalling an orgasm because you felt yours building unstoppably. You didn't even think you could pull your hand away from yourself if he asked you to, you needed to come so bad.

"Fuck, open your mouth baby-- stick your tongue out," he commanded quickly, stepping forward until his cock was casting a shadow over your face. "Oh god, just like that… ready baby?"

You nodded one more time and heard yourself panting loudly through your open mouth, your moans only interrupted by a wince as his come spurted forward and painted your face and exposed tongue in hot stripes. Your orgasm hit just in time, embarrassingly spurred on by the degrading position you were in.

When he was done-- which seemed to take forever because he came so much-- he started to catch his breath before slipping his softening cock onto your come-coated tongue and into your waiting mouth.

"Mm, you look so good like this," he praised, "I'm not sure I wanna let you wipe it off."

A flesh thumb moved down to your cheek and rubbed a stray drop of spend into your skin.

"My perfect little cum dumpster, huh?" he said proudly, as if it was an award or achievement or something, and not a sick, insulting term.

Weird thing was, you felt proud of yourself, too.

He’d been working outside all day, chopping firewood in preparation for the upcoming winter. Sure, the cabin had heating, but he had a lot of ideas about cuddling in front of the fire, or maybe making love beside it.

Regardless, even super soldiers tire and must rest after working. He decided to head inside and heat up something warm to stave off the cold. You were still sleeping last he’d checked, exhausted from a long night-- yes, that kind of long night. He almost felt guilty for putting your body through so much… you were so delicate, sometimes he forgot you couldn’t always handle what he could. However, you were stronger than you realized, and such a perfectly obedient little girl; he smiled at the memory of your skin under his fingertips, your fragile form writhing and whimpering beneath him as he’d taken you for hours. As he daydreamed and began to enter the kitchen, he was torn from his imagination by a sound from your room. At first he wondered if he’d misheard it, but when he heard you cry out again, he assumed you were hurt and nearly tripped over himself to run to you. His heart was racing and he almost considered reaching for his sidearm-- there was no way someone could’ve broken in and tried to hurt you, right?

But as he flung open the door, instead he found you alone with your hand between your legs. You jumped up when you saw him, but it was too late.

“The fuck are you doing?!” he exclaimed, climbing onto the bed and trapping you before you could crawl backwards away from him.

“I-- I was just--”

He cut you off with a quick slap to the face. Not to hurt you, just to get you to focus on him.

“You know you can’t touch yourself without my permission. Did you forget?”

“No…” you murmured ashamedly.

“If you knew it was wrong, why did you do it?”

“I… I just missed you…”

“Why didn’t you call me for help? I can’t take care of you if you don’t ask.”

“I knew you were busy, I didn’t want to bother you--”

“Show me what you did,” he growled, watching you sheepishly spread your legs again to reveal your wet pussy and swollen clit. “Oh doll, you really did a number on yourself. Did you come without me?”

You looked away.

“Don’t bother lying. Did you make yourself come with your fingers?”

“Yes…”

You were hiding something. He almost didn’t want to know the entire truth because it was breaking his heart to know you’d disobeyed so severely, but he had to know what happened if he was going to discipline you properly.

“Was it more than once?”

You shook your head and his blood went cold upon the realization that you were hiding something worse.

“What were you thinking about?” he asked you slowly. He could hear your breathing quickened and he was sure he might die if you said what he was afraid of. “Answer me.”

“I was thinking about… being fucked…”

“By who?” he asked. You opened your mouth instantly but he cut you off. “Don’t lie.”

You spoke but it was so weak that it wasn’t even a whisper. “What was that?” he pressed.

“Sam,” you finally relented, “it was Sam.”

He was livid, but at least it wasn’t Steve.

“Go stand beside the bed and kneel,” he commanded firmly. You nodded weakly and slithered out from under him to do as he asked.

He took a deep, slow breath hoping to calm himself a little. He had heard that you shouldn’t punish little girls when you’re angry. But he needed to nip this in the bud.

He got off the bed and approached you after a moment, running a finger under your chin and guiding you to look up at him.

“You understand you’ve been very naughty, don’t you?” he asked with a cold fury tinting his voice.

“Yes, Daddy,” you answered. Clearly you were trying to be extra good and dutiful, hoping that strict adherence to the rules from here on out could save you some pain. You weren’t wrong, but he wished that you would’ve had that attitude a little sooner.

“And if I don’t teach you a lesson, that would be unfair to both of us.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and opened his belt and fly, pulling out his cock. He sensed that you were compelled to lean forward and take it in your mouth, but you stayed still; you knew he would tell you exactly what he wanted you to do.

As he stroked his cock to full hardness, he glared at you so intensely that you couldn’t keep his gaze, looking up briefly but always glancing back down to the floor shamefully.

“I-I’m sorry, Da-” you began weakly.

“You’ll speak when spoken to,” he interjected harshly. Finally, he held your jaw with one hand, the other holding his cock forward as he plunged it between your lips. He moaned a little when you swirled your tongue over it, doing your best to coat every inch of it in wetness.

As quickly as he had pushed in, he pulled out again. He slapped his cock on your face, smearing your own spit on your cheek. He rubbed his tip over your lips in a circle, but when you opened up your mouth for him, instead he leaned forward and spit into your open mouth.

“Swallow it,” he demanded through his teeth, and you did though it made you shudder with disgust.

Only then did he shove his cock in again, and with brutal force as well. He used fistfuls of your hair to pull your face up and down on his cock, ignoring your whimpers of pain.

The room was filled with the sounds of your choking and coughing, until those extended periods of silence when his cock was shoved all the way into your throat and you couldn’t even get enough air for that. It was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard in his life.

When he pulled you off of him to look at your face, he grinned proudly. “Doll, you look like a fuckin’ mess.” And it was true; spit and pre-cum dribbling down your chin and onto the floor, red nose and puffy eyes from crying… truly a sight to behold.

He gave you one more slap for good measure, the fist in your hair preventing your head from spinning to the side.

“Gonna fuckin’ come in your throat. You’d better swallow it all, bitch.”

He could feel your whole body jerk when he said it, and it only served to make your throat even tighter around him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “just like that, choke on me, fuck, oh god, fuck--”

He came with a stuttered moan and the sounds of protest you tried to make were lost as cum filled your throat and mouth.

He smiled when you swallowed quickly, determined to obey. He wasn’t even done coming yet and you were swallowing it. Probably a good strategy; he had been pent up for a while now and he probably could’ve filled your tiny mouth until it was leaking.

When he was sure every drop of come had been spilled and swallowed, he pulled out and gave you some reprieve. You gasped for air loudly, coughing a few times but mostly maintaining your composure like the good little slut you were.

He watched you shift your hip uncomfortably and realized you must be quite agitated yourself.

“If you want something from me, just ask,” he encouraged. “That’s the whole point of this, isn’t it?”

“Please fuck me,” you whimpered.

He wagged his finger disapprovingly. “I don’t know if you deserve it.”

“Please!” you yelped, and he yanked you off the floor and into his lap quickly.

“You get so dumb when you need me,” he growled into your ear. “So desperate that you don’t know how to think about anything else but cock. Isn’t that right?”

You nodded with a gasp.

“You’re my dumb little baby, aren’t you? Say it," he hissed in demand.

“I’m your dumb little baby,” you repeated breathlessly.

“Get on your hands and knees and get that ass up.”

You obeyed quickly, almost eagerly, and he grinned at your obedience. You really needed it bad, and he was helpless but to oblige you. As soon as he was on his knees behind you and lining up with your sopping entrance, he was shoving his cock into you all at once.

You yelped at the brutality of the intrusion; he stayed still for a moment, relishing the feeling of your warmth, before pulling back out again.

“Wh-?” you began to protest in confusion, but he was a step ahead of you.

“That was just to get my cock wet, baby.”

One metal finger slipped into your puckered hole and you yelped. “D-daddy, not there!”

“Shhh, just relax,” he soothed.

“It’s gonna hurt,” you whined.

“That’s sort of the idea,” he explained. “I know what you can handle, doll.”

“And I can handle this?”

“I never said that.”

And with only one more finger and a few more minutes of hasty preparation, he was pushing his cock into your tighter hole.

“Shh,” he soothed when he felt you clench around him, but still pushing forward, indifferent to your hiss of pain.

“It hurts!” you sobbed.

“I know baby, you’re just gonna have to take it. This wouldn’t be happening if you had just asked me to help you.”

You pouted and it was equal parts adorable and pathetic. “I’m sorry!”

“I’ll tell you when it’s time to apologize. Right now you just need to be quiet. Don’t you wanna be a good little girl?”

“Y-yes.”

He started to move his cock inside you and you shivered under him.

“Please come,” you begged weakly after a few more minutes of thrusting.

“You wanna get it over with? Don’t like it?”

You nodded and he did feel bad for you, but he knew it was what you needed.

“I’ll come when I’m ready, doll. Just take Daddy’s cock, ‘s all you’re good for anyways, right angel?”

You nodded and bit back another sob, blissfully unaware of his adoring gaze; you looked so cute crying for his cock. He liked being strong enough to hurt you almost as much as he liked being strong enough to protect you.

“My perfect little crybaby,” he cooed. “Don’t whine too much or I’ll have to stuff that filthy mouth with a paci, alright?”

He watched you bite your lip and try to stay calm. Out of pity, he moved a little slower than he wanted to, giving you some more time to adjust. Eventually he felt you relaxing, though you still yelped a little when he pushed in all the way. It was hard to choose between watching your face or watching his cock stretch open your hole.

“God, you’re takin’ me so well,” he praised. “Who knew you were such a whore, huh?”

Before you could deny it, he reached down and swiped his fingers through your folds quickly, groaning when he felt how swollen and wet they were. “Fuck, baby, you’re drenched. You like getting fucked up the ass; such a dirty little slut.”

“Just for you, Daddy,” you informed him with a weak voice. He was still angry with you, of course, but he was so proud of you, too. He could remember all those times you’d tried to run or fight, now you were just laying there and taking it like a champ-- no restraints, no threats, just the desire to be good for him. You were everything he’d ever dreamed you could be and more.

The thought spurred his orgasm ahead sooner than he expected, but he still wanted to hold back. You needed more to learn your lesson, and he wanted to savor this feeling as long as possible.

His fingers had been digging into the supple flesh of your hips and ass, hard enough to bruise, but you felt too warm and too soft, so he gripped the sheets instead in his attempts to stave off his rupture.

But it wasn’t much longer until the tightness of you, the heat of you, the sweetness of your sobs all became too perfect to ignore. His cock was aching for release, and if he denied himself much more, he figured his balls would never relax from their tightened state.

“I think you’re ready to apologize now,” he groaned.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy,” you sobbed. “I swear, I’ll never touch myself without your permission again-- and I’ll never think about anybody but you! I only want you, I swear!”

“You sure, baby? You don’t think Sam would treat you better?” he mocked. Sam definitely would be nicer to you, but there was no way he could treat you better than Bucky did. Maybe you wanted a guy who was sweeter, more traditional, but this was what you needed and only your Daddy could give that to you.

“I’m sure! I only want you, please! Please, please come.”

“Is that what you want, angel? Want me to come in your tight little ass?”

“Please,” you whimpered.

“Please…?”

“Please, Daddy.”

And he came, though it was a little more physically taxing since it was the second of the night. You whimpered a little but he could tell you were relieved it was over.

You didn’t put up any fight at bath time that night, just curled into his arms and let him wash you as you whispered more apologies.

“Shh, it’s alright,” he soothed as he washed your hair, whispering right against your ear before giving it a little kiss. “You did good, baby. You made a mistake but you’re gonna learn from it and we’re gonna be better than ever. You took your punishment so well, darling, you should be proud.”

Today you'd woken up to an empty house, with a note on the kitchen table:

Gone for groceries, I'll be back in the afternoon. When I get home, greet me at the door wearing what I've laid out for you in your closet.

You figured it wasn't going to be something conservative by any means, but you were still taken aback by finding a tail, collar, and cat-ear headband. The collar was pink leather with a tiny bell and a little heart-shaped steel tag with your name on it. The realization that he had this custom-made sent a shiver down your back. On the back of the tag was another engraving:

IF LOST RETURN TO BUCKY BARNES

You were a little concerned about wearing only a collar, ears and tail… especially when you realized how the tail was intended to be worn.

Still, you had become thoroughly obedient, and you trusted that this would make him happy which was all you could hope for. You fought past your hesitation and changed out of your pajamas into the outfit (if it could even be called that when it contained no actual clothing).

He had the biggest grin on his face when he opened the door to find you on your knees just outside the entryway.

“Oh look at you, kitten,” he beamed.

Being naked on the floor was cold and awkward. You crossed your arms to cover your chest, frowning as you tried to avoid his penetrating gaze. “This is stupid. I feel stupid.”

“You are stupid," he smiled. "But you look great! Now behave or you’ll have to eat out of a bowl on the floor until you’ve learned to love being Daddy’s pet.”

Your eyes went wide.

“You’re gonna behave, right?”

“Y-yes, Daddy.”

He smiled and curled his finger, motioning for you to come closer. You awkwardly crawled towards him on your hands and knees, biting your lip absent-mindedly. When you were on the floor in front of his legs, he knelt down a bit and grabbed a handful of your ass. It made the plug inside you shift and you whimpered.

“Mm, this tail looks lovely on you,” he praised. “And the ears… you’re a natural.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” you shyly accepted the compliment.

"I bet you got wet putting this on, huh?" he presumed. You nodded as he moved to rub two fingers through your folds, proving himself right.

When he leaned back and pulled his cock from his jeans, you were surprised at how hard it already was. Clearly the kitten thing was working for him.

"Go ahead kitty, I know you want a taste," he encouraged.

You leaned forward and gave, fittingly, small kitten licks to the tip of his cock and he groaned. “Just like that, fuck.”

You hummed when you tasted his pre-cum on your tongue. You’d gotten so accustomed to it that you actually enjoyed the flavor now.

Hesitantly, you wrapped your lips around the head and suckled on it gently. Apparently, he didn’t care much for the slow-but-steady method; he slipped two fingers under your collar and used it to pull you down further until you choked.

He continued to guide you forward and back, moaning every time your throat accepted the leaking head of his cock.

“You don’t want me to come in your mouth, do you?” he asked with a grunt.

You shook your head.

He grinned knowingly, pushing you back until your mouth was empty and free to respond. “Where do you want it?”

“In my pussy.”

“Full sentences only, please.”

“I want you to come in my pussy, Daddy, please.”

“Hmm, you did ask very nicely,” he smiled. “But I have something else to do first. Go get on the couch, kitten, hands and knees.”

You almost stood up but realized he wanted you to crawl again. As soon as you’d done it, he was behind you, humming contentedly as he ran his rough hands over your skin. You mewled when he started to kiss along your back, down your ass and between your thighs until he was licking long stripes through your folds. Both of you moaned when he sucked your clit into his mouth, even allowing it to graze against his teeth which nearly hurt but made you gush with wetness anyways.

"Please-- I'm close, Daddy, can I come?" you whimpered.

"Go ahead," he mumbled before returning to his work, knowing exactly how to use his tongue to take you apart in mere minutes. Your hands grabbed desperately at the back of the couch for stability as your legs began to quiver with the force of your orgasm. You yelped and bit down on your lip as it crashed over you; sometimes when he ate you out, he wouldn't stop after you'd came and keep going until you were begging for mercy, but he was apparently feeling generous today and stopped once you'd finished.

That, of course, did not mean he was finished with you.

He pushed his jeans down to his thighs and laid back onto the mattress, cock so hard that it was pressing into his abs.

“Come on kitten, ride me,” he grinned, motioning for you to climb on top of him. The moment you did he was rubbing his cock against you, pushing it upwards for you to sink down onto it. You moaned as it stretched you open, and when your hips met his, the tip of it brushed against the deepest places inside you. You yelped and tried to move back up but he suddenly grabbed your legs and held you down.

“Nuh-uh, kitten, no running away. You’re gonna take all of me.”

“It’s too deep,” you protested weakly, even though you felt your walls throbbing with pleasure.

“Not at all, angel; you’re made for me, so you fit me perfectly,” he explained. “If I let you go, you’re gonna ride me properly, take my whole cock, right?”

You nodded and he eased up his grip. You felt your legs shaking as little as you pushed yourself up only to drop back down, wincing as he filled you so completely once again. You repeated the movement over and over, picking up pace and moaning every time. You could feel his cock moving the plug inside your ass, and each bounce on top of him made your collar jingle a little.

You did your best to keep up the pace, but to lift yourself required use of a muscle that you clearly hadn't been getting much exercise for; it wasn't more than a few minutes before you were faltering, your moans of pleasure accented with the struggling groans of exhaustion.

"Oh kitty, are you too weak? Too wimpy and small to ride my cock? Baby… that's pathetic," he moped.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," you pouted. "I'm just tired…"

"Just a little longer, kitten, just ride my cock a little more then I'll help you out, okay? I know you can do it. I know you can be a good girl."

You hoped he was right. You nodded weakly as he looked at you expectantly, before slowly beginning to move again in spite of your sore thighs.

Soon, as he'd promised, he pulled you down and wrapped his arms around you, thrusting up into you. Your moans echoed against his skin when your face was shoved into the crook of his neck. When his cock slammed into your most sensitive spot, you bit him there as a way to stifle yourself and he slapped your ass.

“Only bad kittens bite, doll. I thought you were going to be a good kitten for me?”

“Feels so good,” you tried to explain though it came out slurred, “please don’t stop.”

“I’m not gonna stop, baby. Not gonna stop until that pussy is full of my come. That what you want?”

“Yes,” you pleaded, “oh god, yes, please…”

He moaned loudly as his thrusts lost all rhythm, his cock moving so fast inside you that the sensation became one hot blur against your walls. Finally, as he groaned and gripped you tight enough to bruise, he spilled inside you.

As he let out a long breath and his body relaxed under you, he smiled softly. "You really are perfect, pet."

"C-can I take off the ears now? And the tail?"

"Hmm, not yet," he grinned, "we need to take a few pictures of you like this first."

He was working in the kitchen when he heard your footsteps approaching.

"Don't come in here!" he ordered you. "Wait for me at the dining table."

"Why, Daddy?" he heard you respond from the hall. He smiled just to hear your sweet voice.

"It's a surprise, babydoll," he explained. "It's almost ready-- just wait, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy," you answered dutifully, your footsteps moving to the dining area as he'd requested.

Stepping back and admiring his work, he lifted it and turned out the door to deliver your surprise: a cake, with pink frosting and one pink candle.

Your eyes lit up when you saw him holding the cake stand, being careful not to tilt it or get the flame of the candle near his long hair.

He smiled and set it in front of you, looking to your face for a reaction. Suddenly he felt self-conscious about it, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "Um, I made it myself. Sorry if the decorating isn't that nice…"

"It's beautiful, Daddy, and I bet it'll taste great, too," you beamed. "What's the occasion?"

"It's our anniversary," he replied, his voice suddenly low and dark.

He saw recognition cross your face, though you looked confused as well. The meds he'd given you throughout the year had disrupted your memories, and probably distorted your perception of the passage of time as well, but it was all necessary to get you compliant. He hoped reminding you of that somewhat violent first day wouldn't set back any of your progress.

"I've… been here a year?" you asked weakly.

"We've been here a year," he corrected, sitting down beside you and wrapping an arm around you, "but that's not what we're celebrating."

The hand on your shoulder slipped down to the underside of your arm, stroking it slowly.

"We're celebrating that a medication somebody gave you a long time ago, before we were together, is finally worn off," he explained slowly, a grin creeping across his face. "We're celebrating that the next time I come inside you, I'm gonna get you pregnant."

He didn't fuck you for three days after that, loving the way you were clearly on edge as you waited for him to make good on his promise. And he didn't blame you for being nervous about it, even if you seemed to understand that any protest from you would fall on deaf ears.

So, he was quite taken aback when you came onto him one night, bedtime cuddling quickly turning into something more as you rubbed your ass against his crotch. He hadn't even realized that you would want it all on your own.

God, you were so fucking perfect he couldn't stand it.

"What are you doing, angel?" he asked you with a growl as he grabbed your hips and forced them to still.

"Nothing, Daddy," you answered coyly. He grinned and nipped at your earlobe.

"Are you horny, babygirl? Because you're acting like a whore."

You nodded and gasped, shivering under his touch.

"Want Daddy's cock inside you?" he pressed, voice getting darker.

"Yes, please!" you begged.

He sat up and flipped you onto your back, caging you in with his arms as he hovered above you.

“You wanna have my baby?” he asked in a husky whisper.

“Yes,” you nodded your head quickly.

“Want me to knock you up, doll? Right now?”

“Please,” you whimpered.

He leaned down, almost close enough to kiss you, as his gaze wandered over your face “I don’t want it to be like the other times. None of the crazy shit, nothing rough. If I’m gonna get you pregnant--”

“Whatever you want,” you pleaded.

He kissed you suddenly, deep and slow. “I love you,” he told you quickly as he pulled back, breathless but confident.

“I love you too,” you answered without even questioning it.

He was gentle, and thorough, and patient. It was love-making in a way that was out of character for him. He lifted your legs to wrap around his hips, pushing into you as deep as he could but with a contemplative slowness; he cradled your face in his hands and kissed all over it as he praised you in whispers.

My pretty girl, my perfect little girl, gonna fill you up, gonna make you mine.

You were only moans and sobs, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.

The first time you came was unexpected, building slowly but crashing into you all at once, judging by the way you went from softly whimpering to nearly screaming in seconds. The second was quieter, more subtle, but he could tell by the way your walls tightened around him. The third left you in tears, beyond overstimulated and broken down into a babbling mess.

“Please,” you cried, “please I need you to come-- come inside me.”

He struggled to resist that offer, but he didn't want it to be over too quickly.

“Soon,” he promised, “I’m close. You feel so good.”

You wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him close for a kiss but stopping as his mouth brushed against yours.

“Please, Bucky… please come…” you whispered.

He moaned, his thrusts getting a little more erratic.

“Need it so bad,” you whimpered, “need you to put your baby in me--”

“Fuck,” he hissed, “‘m gonna, promise.”

“Now,” you demanded through your teeth, “I need it now.”

“Not until you come one more time,” he responded. You whined and he knew you were questioning whether it was possible. “I know you can, just gimme one more.”

His angle shifted and he stayed deep within you, grinding his hips on yours just the right way to rub your clit with his pubic bone. Your back arched but he held you close, barraging you with the sensation and pressing his forehead to yours.

Your hands gripped his shoulders for dear life, as if you were afraid to fall. He smiled and kissed your neck, feeling your walls flutter around him once again.

“That’s it,” he praised, “I know you’re close. Just let go. I’ve got you.”

Tears streamed down your face as it tore through you, hitting you so hard that instead of moans it was just silence. He watched your face intently, breathing through his teeth as he summoned all his willpower to hold on just a little longer.

"Daddy!" you yelped, and he couldn't take any more: with a high-pitched, stuttered moan, he felt his cock flexed as he came harder than maybe he ever had before. Knowing that you were fertile made it all so much more intense. Normally, his orgasm just meant the end of sex-- maybe just for a few minutes on a good day. But now? Now it was the beginning of something. His perfect little angel was going to finally fulfill her final purpose and give him a baby. He'd waited so long, dreamed of it every day for years, and finally it was going to happen.

He refused to pull out or let you move until he was sure it would take; he killed the time by kissing every part of your face and neck that he could reach.

He hadn't even gotten you pregnant yet, technically, and he already couldn't wait for more children. He'd always wanted to have a big family, but he gave up on that dream years ago; meeting you had brought it all back, and made him realize that all this time he'd just been waiting for the perfect wife to start it with.

You were well worth the wait.

#dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes non con #bucky barnes x y/n #dark!bucky smut #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x y/n #dark!sebastian stan x reader

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kvmberly · 4 years ago

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if i can’t have you.

20 day song imagines masterlist | main masterlist

pairing: bucky barnes x 40’s!reader

pronouns: she/her

genre: angst, some fluff

warning: one curse word and mentions of death.

word count: 1.7k

synopsis: bucky spends years tracking down a necklace from a past lover that he just can't stop thinking about but ended up finding something even better.

this means flashbacks

The first time Bucky remembered y/n was after his first fight with Steve, Sam, and Natasha. He was so confused that Steve knew him and all the memories from his past life were slowly flowing back.

"James! Don't throw that at me!" y/n laughed running from him.

they were having a water-balloon fight. It was a sunny afternoon in Brooklyn and they were quick to take advantage of the sunny weather.

"Doll i'm not going to throw it. Just come over here it'll be okay." Bucky bit his lip in anticipation.

Y/n slowly stepped towards Bucky but ran once she heard someone cough in the bush next to her.

"Dammit Steve!"

"I'm sorry I was trying to hold it in." Steve laughed.

Y/n. Who was y/n? And who was this Steve guy? Bucky's context clues led him to believe that y/n might've been a lover of his, hence the pet name "doll."

Bucky didn't have much time until he was back at the Hydra building so he quickly picked up random litter from the street and sought out to find a pen. Once he found it, he wrote the name y/n on it.

Once he arrived to the front building of Hydra he tucked the paper away from anyones view to come back for it.

He was back from his mission and hydra knew right away that something wasn't right. They wiped is memory and everything he remembered was gone. Kind of.

The next couple of weeks Bucky had remembered nothing of his past life, including where he hid the paper, and was doing missions for his "boss." This time, he just so happened to find Steve, again.

Combinations of Steve repeatedly calling The Winter Soldiers name, Bucky, and just seeing him caused him to pause. A memory was coming back to him. He tried to fight it, even after focusing on Steve and what his leaders told him to do. But even after saving Steve, he couldn't fight off the feelings he was getting from being near the super soldier.

"James. Please be careful." Y/n cried into his neck.

She just got the news that he's going on a mission with Steve. She always feared what would happen when he joined the military. She already had faced almost losing him to the nazi's. What if something even worse happens?

"Doll. You know I will." he replied, pulling back to look at her teary eyed face.

"Still, things happen." she shrugged.

Bucky stood up from the bed getting his thing's together. He knew it was dangerous, but he had to do it. She knew that.

"Wait James." Y/n called as he was about to leave, "Take this." She handed him a necklace.

Bucky looked at the silver necklace, examining the picture of her on it, "What's this for?"

"So you don't forget me." She sniffed.

"You keep it here with you." He said softly.

"Why?"

So you can give it to me when I come back." He kissed her lips, leaving her with the last I love you she'll ever hear from him.

Bucky jolted awake from his sleep wiping his eyes and got up from his metal bed. Bucky suddenly started to question hydra like he hasn't before. He began to question who he even was.

He needed to find that necklace. But where could it be? Did she even keep it?

Over the course of two years, Bucky finally started to get his memory back. He was united with Steve in weird circumstances but he was just glad to have his best friend next to him. Even though he had his memory, he still hadn't found the necklace. He spent two years looking everywhere for it and never even got a hit on it until a couple nights ago. He kept having flashbacks to a specific place.

"You sure know how to make a girl love huh?" Y/n asked, arms around Bucky's neck.

"Maybe." He mumbled then softly placed his lips on her's.

They were at the y/n's favorite bar dancing to a song that came on in the jukebox. Paper Doll.

Bucky quickly learned that song is the reason he called his beloved y/n doll.

"What you thinking in the pretty head of yours?" Bucky questioned.

Y/n sighed, "Just about how amazing you are."

"You want to go to the bar. Don't you?"

"Yes!" She yelled as she shot up from the bed to get ready.

The bar. But what was it called?

Bucky had a long day. All he wanted to do was cuddle up with y/n but when he entered there shared apartment, she wasn't there. She was always there, especially at this time of the night.

He didn't want to panic though. He knew she had to be somewhere so he looked around the building then proceeded to drive to her family owned bar. Y/L/N

He quickly drove to the bar, opening the door to it, seeing y/n. "Doll." Bucky called.

"Hi James." Y/n greeted.

"Why aren't you at home?"

"I just wanted to be out." Y/n answered truthfully.

Bucky nodded sitting next to her ordering a drink. She always made his day better.

Finally! He had a name to the bar, but where was it?

Bucky decided to ask Steve. Surely y/n and Steve were in contact after his "passing." Maybe he knows about the necklace.

"Hey Steve. You remember y/n?" Bucky asked

"Of course I do Buck. You thinking about her."

"Yeah I um- I remember she had a family bar it was named-"

"Y/L/N" Steve interrupted.

"You remember it?" Bucky's eyes lit up.

Steve nodded smiling, happy his friend was remembering something important.

"Can you maybe tell me where it's at?"

"You looking for the necklace?" Steve asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Bucky said yes then followed Steve all the way down the street. A big sign reading, "Y/L/N" was hanging overhead. "Here you are."

How did he miss this?

Bucky thanked Steve with a handshake and walked his way into the bar. It looked the same, only more modern. The jukebox was still there but the interior was more relaxed and comfortable.

The bell rang as he entered causing people to look at him. Most reverted their attention back to there food as he walked to the ordering counter, but a a lady in the back kitchen, who couldn't be older than 30, continued to stare at him.

"You here for food or drinks?" The person at the ordering counter asked.

Bucky opened his mouth to speak but one of the people from the back intervened. "Tilla come back here for a second."

Tilla, the person at the counter, went to the back and talked to the lady who called them. Tilla's eyes widened then turned their head looked at Bucky.

What is going on?

The lady from the kitchen came up to the counter, "You James Barnes?" She asked.

"How'd you know?" He questioned.

"I'm Nichole, y/n's niece." She reached her hand out to greet him.

He accepted the handshake but was still confused. How did she know what he looked like. Surely y/n couldn't have told her?

"I'm guessing you're looking for y/n?"

"Well-"

"You're two years late." She told him, "She passed away."

Bucky's whole body froze.

Nichole looked up at him, seeing his state. "Let me take you to lunch. I'll tell you everything." She grabbed her bag and led him somewhere to eat.

"Did she- did she ever talk about me?" Bucky asked nervously. He just wanted to know. Not wanted, needed to know.

"All the time."

"Really?" He smiled.

"Yeah. She used to play that paper doll song all the time!" She laughed, "I remember just begging her to stop showing pictures of you but I guess it helped me figure out who you are."

"How'd you know I was alive?"

"Steve told me."

Huh? Steve knew y/n had family so close and never told him? But then Bucky remembered, he knew about the necklace. He knew about the bar. Why did he never tell him?

"He wanted you to remember it."

Bucky was snapped from his thoughts, "What?"

"Steve. He wanted you to remember her not because he told you, but because you genuinely remembered." Nichole reached into her bag, grabbing a crumbly envelope.

"Here." She handed him the paper. "Her death wish was for you to read this note. She wrote it for you but knew Steve was alive and made me promise to give it to him. But since you're alive and breathing, I'm giving it to you."

Bucky softly grabbed the envelope from the young girls hand, opening it.

Y/n was so hurt. So hurt from the news of Bucky's passing. She couldn't move on so she decided to make a letter. A letter that she only could hope that would be opened by Bucky.

Dear my beloved James,

I am writing this letter in hopes of you coming back home one day. Everyone says you have passed. They tell me to move on but I can not. I can not move on from you. You are the man I dream about in the night time. Steve says he did everything he could. I believe him. I truly miss you. You are the love of my life and if I could just hear you call me doll one more time, I would finally be at rest. I remember us talking about baby names. I remember all the times you came to my work just to tell me a new name you came up with. Sadly I will not have any babies. I refuse to even lay with another person. I refuse. I hope to one day have a niece. Maybe I can convince my family to name them Nichole or Harvey. If only. I miss you. Everything in my life seems sore without your touch. Everything means nothing without you. Everything means nothing if I can't have you.

your doll, y/n.

She sealed it in a pink envelope and tucked it away.

ps, i slipped the picture of me in your pocket.

idk why but I started tearing up at the end lol. i can just imagine the pain people feel when there s/o passes away :/

- kimberly

#bucky fanfic #buck barnes #bucky barnes angst #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #marvel imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine

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dangerliesbeforeyou · 4 years ago

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List of random yt vids that live in my head rent free

(most of these r just funny lol so if ur having a bad day i’d def recommend watching some of these lol)

edit: i’ve now bolded all of my ult favourite ones!

‘poor & rich, boys over flowers parody trailer by mychonny’

‘i have a MOUSE by crabstickz’

watson and oliver ‘busy lady’ sketch

orange caramel catallena ‘ha’ compilation

any and every video by chris fleming (i can’t chose. .. i just can’t)

the best soju in korea (simon & martina, ft mychonny) (i know this doesnt SOUND funny but it is hysterical)

dying (by la turtle)

we’re robert dyas and we’re gay and straight and bi...

how prangent is formed

lee mack & the keys story (from would i lie to you)

one direction what makes you beautiful laugh version AND what makes you beautiful but every line is you’re insecure

(continued below:)

sehun mistaking jeonghan for johnny

SQUISH THAT CAT

rupert young talking about sir leon being the real star of bbc’s merlin

the cat can can animated video

i used to be with ‘it’ simpsons video (also the steamed hams clip... )

lindsay ellis’ video essay about joel schumacher’s phantom of the opera

baekhyun saying ‘eh gingerbread?’ (that’s literally it.. it’s 2 seconds long... also that time he said ‘i like whipping.. whipping cream’ but i cba to look for the clip lol)

‘the quicker way’ by community channel (SPECIFICALLY the paper man bit... i CRY of laughter every time)

be ! worry , dont ! happy ! minor key

i’m at soup

dan howell & louise pentland’s ‘our awkward fancy meal’ video

daily life of rustin hieber (ryan higa video)

peggle TWO!!!!!!!!!

nazi gold (another crabstickz video)

jack & dean’s vid ‘super glued’

The Iconic(tm) Jimin fancam of their cover of Perfect Man

elijah wood challenging dominic monaghan to a fight

jenny nicholson’s ‘rating ever porg’ video (i dont even like star wars and yet... i STILL want a giant porg plushy lol)

any jenna marbles vid but particularly ‘bleaching my eyebrows’

raj bisram’s magic trick gone wrong on would i lie to you

handforth parish council meeting (trust me on this, it is funny)

#there are a LOT more i could include but... we'll leave it here for now lol #personal #videos #yes my taste is odd whAT o f it #i may add to it occasionally just... when i find a good'n u kno

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thwip--thwip · 5 years ago

Note

Hey, I was looking for some new reading material and wondered if you could give me some recs? Please and thank you sm!

ho BOY anon, COULD I! I’ve got over 2,000 bookmarks on AO3 - what are we looking for? I’m going to assume IronDad, or at the very least Peter Parker-centric; short or long? MJ or Gwen Stacy? Angst, fluff, whump? Sorry this took a minute; I went into the vault for you and pulled out some rare gems:

LONG FICS

In the Home by @captainkirkk | 68k

The Avengers have been infected, turned violent and aggressive against their will. And Peter, the only one unaffected, is trapped inside the Tower with six feral teammates.

“Natasha,” Peter says cautiously, “what happened here? Steve attacked me, and if there was ever a sign that something was wrong, it’s having the embodiment of Truth, Justice, and the American Way throw you across the room—”

Natasha comes closer, her stride controlled. Nothing necessarily out of the ordinary, but there’s something in her face, in her eyes—

Natasha lunges across the space, and slams into Peter, hard.

This just…hoo. A classic if I’ve ever seen one. There’s going to be plenty of aloneintherain on this list because she’s the bomb dot com and its no secret I’m in love. we Stan in this house; this might be my favorite Spidey fic ever written.

POW Avengers by Punny_Puck |122k

Tony Stark is thrown into a new Nazi POW camp. It’s his fifth–or sixth–and he’d really like to make it to his fiftieth escape attempt this time. But Stalag III isn’t like any of the other POW camps he’s been in. He suddenly finds himself facing an impossible task: Getting two-hundred and fifty men out of the camp in one massive escape attempt. And dammit if he’s not going to make it work.

Very impressive, very lengthy and detailed historical AU set in WWII. This one is more Tony than Peter, and quite a fair bit of Loki (this author does a great job with all the different POV’s, that’s why it’s so long!). Nice and juicy!

5 Times Peter Fell & Tony Caught Him, and The 1 Time He Didn’t by eva7673 | 35k

Peter has a nasty habit of falling. And Tony, bless him, will catch him every. single. time. Until the day he can’t.

I love this series with all of my heart, but especially this first fic! It’s the perfect amount of whump and IronDad, and oh man, that last time? GETS me. Eva definitely put in so much work on this series, and it SHOWS!

Twelve Days of Peter Parker by @upcamethesun | 27k

In each of the twelve days leading up to Christmas, Tony runs into one Peter Parker — for better or for worse.

In other words, an excuse for this author to write gratuitous Peter fluff/angst/nonsense with a Christmas theme, because ‘tis the season.

This fic is so cute I Die. Perfect bit of holiday nonsense! I read it every year lol. It’s got everything you’re looking for and more, to scratch the itch you didn’t know you had.

ever in your favor by @iron–spider | 153k

Peter startles awake when someone shakes him.

“Sorry, honey,” May says. Peter blinks a couple times and she comes into focus, her hair pulled back from her face. She’s trying not to look a certain way, but he can see it in her eyes anyway. She clears her throat, keeps talking. “But it’s…” She glances away, wets her lips. “You gotta get ready.”

He remembers what day it is, and his heart beats like a drum at someone’s execution. But he tries to put on a mask, make it all seem normal. It’s everything but, despite the fact that he’s been dealing with reaping day since he was born, between himself, Ben and May. That fear that one of them could be taken away. Sent to surefire slaughter. But now Ben is gone, taken despite never having his name drawn from a bowl, and May’s finally safe. Now Peter’s name is in there alone. The last Parker sitting on the chopping block. He doesn’t know how to be. He doesn’t know what normal is, when the Hunger Games are looming on the horizon.

I mean…how could I possibly do a fic rec list without this on it? Iron–spider’s latest masterwork, and it truly is a masterwork. The Hunger Games AU your soul has been crying out for, and quite possibly the greatest AU to ever live. Do yourself a favor and get settled in - you’re in for a ride.

Magazineverse by @copperbadge | 56k

Heroes In Manhattan: From Captain America’s Hidden Talents To The Truth About The Hulk, We Debunk The Myths And Expose The Daily Lives Of The Avengers.

Avengers-centric, takes place post-2012. The Avengers team we deserve! The whole series is amazing, and I definitely didn’t see the twist coming (SO original, and you totally got me. Well played.)

MEDIUM FICS

devil in a sunday hat by @captainkirkk | 14k

Peter wishes he hadn’t gotten out of bed that morning. Then, maybe, he wouldn’t be reduced to this—limp-crawling through the rabbit burrows that is Oscorp Tower, a monster of a man on his heels, bloody and bruised and choking on a panic attack.

This series really speaks to Peter, and his experience as a street-level hero. I don’t think I’ve ever not cried reading this series - it’s really beautiful. Aloneintherain always manages to capture how much weight and anxiety sits on Peter’s shoulders - and how dire his consequences can really be.

5 things that change for Peter after the end of the world by @iron–spider | 14k

…and one thing that always remains the same.

(SPOILERS FOR INFINITY WAR)

Peter knows he’s different now.

The first three months were like a bubble. He didn’t think about the newness of his old life, he didn’t think about the state of the world now that it had been saved—he just worried. Worried about Tony and Steve recovering. Worried about May worrying about him. Worried about everything in general—he didn’t allow himself specifics because specifics didn’t make sense, not yet. He just focused on his routine, kept it normal, the same schedule every day so he didn’t throw himself off.

It felt like the bubble popped when the party ended, and everything became clearer. The differences in who he is now were highlighted, like there was a spotlight on his every move, like everybody could see the invisible scars the world-ending experience left on him.

The first thing he notices is the sleeping. Or lack thereof.

(a follow up to my story “the rattle of their hearts” from Peter’s POV. You can read this one without having read the original, but it would make more sense if you have read it!)

Everyone knows Rattle, and if you don’t, definitely read the first fic in this series! But this second one is really special to me (and MJ never fails to make me laugh out loud, every time). Peter’s PTSD is dealt with intimately in this fic, and I love it to bits.

the conspiracy kids by @tempestaurora | 13k

WHO IS SPIDER-MAN?

The screen showed Peter Parker, sixteen years old and determined to prove the identity of Spider-Man over the course of the three-part documentary he was making, unknowing that it would become viral within days of the first part being released. Behind the camera, way off screen, was Harley Keener, Tony Stark’s other prodigy child, grinning like crazy as Peter started the documentary. Only a few people knew what was to come, and those few people were about to have a great few weeks.

“My name is Peter Parker, and with the help of my friends, Ned Leeds, Harley Keener, and my Aunt, May Parker, who provided me with a lot of red yarn for this project, we’re going to uncover the identity of Spider-Man.”

“what if peter just decided to fuck with everyone who didn’t know he was spider man and make a documentary about him trying to uncover the Truth.”

Looking for a fun, Peter-and-Harley-being-ridiculous-teenagers fic? This is the One For You. I can see it all in my head, and it never fails to make me laugh. Delightful piece of fluff and probably the best social-media-esque fic I’ve read.

Primary Reason Tony Stark Would Throw Down With An Anti-Vaxxer In The Street by @caraminha | 12k

Prompt from my Tumblr: Have you heard of tetanus? I’m studying it for school and it’s got lots of angst potential - it causes severe, seizure like muscle spasms which can break the patient’s bones, but they’re conscious and fully aware of what’s happening. It also causes fever and lockjaw, and difficulty breathing. I’d love to see an angst fic where Peter has bad tetanus and Tony and co are looking after him whilst his symptoms get worse and worse.

Looking for some Peter!whump? This fic is so sweet. Tony is Dad. What more do you need?

SHORT FICS

Come Together by @captainkirkk | 1.8k

From the ground, Tony squints at Thanos and the young heroes the villain is chasing through the city. “Are they…” Tony begins.

Steve, being lifted onto a gurney by starstruck paramedics, laughs a little. “Leading the man who almost destroyed the Earth in a wild goose chase?” In the sky, Johnny Storm sticks his tongue out at Thanos, ducking and weaving out of the villain’s grasp. “Yeah. I think they are.”

Didn’t I promise she’d be on here a billion and one times? All of her stuff is so good, for every fandom. Go READ this queen who’s been killing the game for years. This fic is such a sweet one, an Endgame fic before Peter was even in the MCU. It’s perfect.

Only Road by @garamonder | 2.8k

A rare breather between fighting should have been a relief for the Avengers. Instead, one small comment triggers a confrontation Peter had been avoiding for months.

Oh wow this one…this dialogue between Peter and Tony is incredible. One of my favorite things in a fic is a good argument, especially one where Peter has a distinct and mature point.

Every Penny and More by Princessfbi | 1.2k

She forced herself to inhale air and hold it before releasing it from her lips. She grounded herself in the cheap vinyl in a crappy diner that she wasn’t sure she was ever going to be able to look at the same way again. She thought of the life Peter would have if she said yes because she knew that’s what all of this was about: Tony asking her permission to let him do this.

May and Tony co-parenting Peter is…oh, be still my heart. This is such a sweet little fic of something that definitely happened off-screen :’)

5 Times Spider-Man Saved An Avengers’ Ass (and the 1 Time They Saved Him) by TunaFishChris | 7.2k

What it says on the tin.

Going through an angsty Spider-Man phase. I regret nothing.

YES give me Peter x Avengers team! Peter gets a great moment with each of the Avengers, proving himself a capable hero (and getting assistance when he needs it the most :’) baby makes some friends!). Really cute, a fun little romp.

unbearable loss by @iron–spider | 1.6k

“Peter…he was so afraid, Pep,” Tony says, his voice breaking. “He…he just lunged for me, he was so afraid, he wanted—he needed someone to be there for him. And I tried, I tried—I held him, I told him he was alright, which was a—goddamn lie, and the only fucking thing that came out of my mouth. The last thing I said to him.” He shakes his head, swallowing hard. “The last thing I said to him was a lie.”

“You can’t blame yourself,” Pepper says, quietly.

“I do,” Tony says. “He trusted me. That kid trusted me, and I failed him every possible way I could have. I couldn’t save him, I couldn’t—he died in my arms and I couldn’t do one single solitary thing about it. And I couldn’t—me, the human fucking chatterbox—I just stared at him. He was dying, turning to fucking dust and apologizing to me and I just stared at him, like a moron.”

This fic Fucks. Me. Up. Iron–spider’s Tony angst is unparalleled. It hurts me every time, and the dialogue between him and Pepper is just…it’ll get you.

yesterday, I saw a change by @captainkirkk | 6.8k

Inspired by prompt: ‘Peter is unmasked on live television, and everyone goes berserk—you’ve already heard this one but here’s the twist—he’s wide-eyed, staring into the camera, frightened, but not because of his own safety. The first thing that comes out of his mouth is, “Someone please, please protect my Aunt May.” And the entirety of New York cries out simultaneously. Heroes and neighbours and fellow students rain down on the Parker house, ready to defend her.’

This is - surprise! - a May Parker fic. This fic will move you. You will probably cry. I love it with all my heart. If I ever need a refresher on who May is and how she feels - how New York feels, about Spiderman - this is my go-to.

Hope that gave you some new stuff to check out! I have more, do I ever have more. Enjoy & remember to leave comments for all of these wonderful writers!!!

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thegeminisage · 5 years ago

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alright now that i’ve finally seen both fullmetal animes here’s my compare & contrast

spoiler warnings!!!!!

2003 does this better:

better soundtrack. brotherhood’s ost is SUPERB but 2003 still wins. it’s iconic and historic

wack-ass ending aside 03 is MUCH cleaner and more self-contained. brotherhood zooms out a lot and takes a bigger look at the world than 03. that’s not to say one is better than the other, but something i like about the 03 anime is that a lot of minor characters came back in the end when they deviated from the manga. everyone was connected somehow

like ok in 03, winry’s parents were actually murdered by mustang, and the homunculi were created by regular old alchemists - i think little plot stuff like that is what i mean by “self-contained” - everything is so weighty and it matters so much and there’s nothing that isn’t important in the end

similarly, 03 has really good character development...brotherhood has a lot to accomplish in a short time, so the pacing is much faster and more oriented towards action where 03 has time to really slow down and dig into everything...we got a much longer time to get to know characters like nina and maes and marta/martel and even yoki

03 is a lot darker i think both thematically and literally as in they used darker shading which is like...obviously everyone has their own tastes but i really enjoy it

hohenheim, scar, lust, and envy all get like 10000x more character development in 03...in fact, almost all the homunculi save for bradley get more development, 03 is very definitely character based. i like 03 hohenheim a LOT better actually and i think his rocky relationship with ed gets more closure in 03, even with 03′s wack-ass ending

03 did a better job of exploring the fallout of having to do really and truly horrible things during wartime...it’s talked about a fair amount in brotherhood, but in 03, the weight of those sins is made much more tangible and horrifying

03 had better voice acting. sorrryyyyy but some of the new guys they got for brotherhood (to replace scar, marcoh, and breda, most notably) just aren’t as good! i did like the new al though in spite of myself

brotherhood does this better:

brotherhood actually knows what the fuck it’s doing as far as plot goes and the ending was cool and satisfying

since brotherhood does take that zoomed out view of the world we got to learn a lot more about it, which was really cool

some brotherhood-only characters are dope as hell. specifically the characters from xing but i also really loved general armstrong, brotherhood’s pride, & kimblee’s ex-men

brotherhood has more WOMEN. not that 03 is a slouch in that department but brotherhood is even better

while brotherhood didn’t do as well showing us the fallout of committing atrocities in war i DO think it did a better job exploring what it means to be marked by committing a taboo - how that changes you forever - in a way that 03 just didn’t quite reach

while i love 03′s darker look, brotherhood’s animation style is like...really so much easier on the eyes it’s GORGEOUS and i like the brotherhood openings better too. sometimes i had trouble skipping them bc they are so good and i just wanted to watch ‘em over & over. that plus the fact that it’s not a square (we didn’t all have widescreen TVs in 2003 lol) is like...a big bonus

brotherhood is just plain cooler in a lot of ways - the creatures are cooler (envy’s true form?? PRIDE?? HELLO??), the environments are more diverse (xerxes! briggs! amazing!), the FIGHT and ACTION SCENES (roy vs lust, greed vs wrath, SCAR USING ******* AGAINST WRATH), and lots of the action has nice little twists, such as al sitting in the dark with pride, or the briggs soldiers freezing sloth in the blizzard...yeah brotherhood has less character development but the action scenes are absolutely gripping. sometimes i forget how much i love a good fight scene when they’re actually choreographed well & brotherhood reminded me

brotherhood is scarier because the stakes are higher. the main villain in 03 had much smaller ambitions than the main villain in brotherhood. granted, i think dante is a cooler and more fun villain than father, but he’s definitely much scarier. dante wants to kill a lot of people. father wants to kill ALL of them. father can disable ur alchemy. father can force mustang thru the ******

brotherhood is a LOT funnier. i was surprisedd at how often i actually laughed out loud. this is a result of 03 being more angsty in general i think

brotherhood has no nazis. zero of them.

brotherhood DIDN’T KILL IZUMI CURTIS in fact i don’t think there’s a single character death in brotherhood that i disagree with which is REALLY rare for me. there were a couple in 03 that i thought were dumb and stupid

anyway, this concludes my comparison. neither is necessarily better than the other, they’re just Different, & i really love both of them

#personal #fma blogging #long post

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eisforeidolon · 7 years ago

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Episode: Exodus

What is there to say about this episode, really? It could have been worse? At least we got a brother hug out of it? Oh, look, it’s that part of the season where all the places the arc plot failed get desperately glossed over with even more flimflam? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Yeah, I did appreciate the hug and how Sam and Dean had to look away from each other's eyes after and move on to deal with the crap they were still in the middle of. Of course Dean figures it's all good if Sam is alive, even if he comes with such fugly baggage. So there was that good moment. Although it was right after Sam set a timer on his phone for twenty one hours. Which was a rough estimate, not a definitive timeline. Given by Lucifer. You know, Lucifer. Sigh.

The main problem this episode had was that it really desperately wanted to show a conflict for Jack between everyone else and Lucifer trying to win him over. Even if you take out the part where earlier this season Jack said he didn't actually feel anything in favor of him now having flashbacks o' guilt? Which has its own issues in terms of the writers going for innately good woobie Jack instead of anything with more nuance? Everyone in this episode acted as if Lucifer had pulled some kind of angel mojo off-screen to keep them from speaking against him.

Dean just keeps yelling for Lucifer to shut up – without actually giving Jack any reason for the hostility. Sam basically avoids the whole situation, as does Gabriel. Castiel stands RIGHT THERE like a goddamn piece of furniture while Lucifer spews out his same old tired oh-poor-misunderstood-me spiel. They don't have to engage with the bullshit claims about Lucifer corrupting humanity he’s whining about, just say all the shit he personally did! Creating demons from twisting human souls. Torturing Sam for keeping him from his plans to destroy the world. Lying - including to, notably, Jack's mother. There is no real conflict here and you can't make a believable one happen by just having everyone go suspiciously mute for reasons, ffs!

Also, remember all that nonsense in season eleven about how Lucifer turning against God wasn't entirely his fault, it was because he had the Mark of Cain? Remember how we had the Winchesters bizarrely advocate for his ass to make God apologize to him for being such a meaniehead? Except, oh, whoops, when they have their big talk, Gabriel is back to saying that it actually was all Lucifer's fault again. Without any mention of the Mark's influence from him or in any of Lucifer's pity party speeches. LOL!canon.

Then we have the usual crap with Mary, the woman who is desperate to bond with anyone … who isn't blood related to her. The Winchesters were worried all season about saving Mary, desperate enough to risk tearing the fabric of the universe – for reasons! Despite how many other characters they had much closer actual good relationships to they've let go. Here, they finally find Mary - who blithely (and rather insensitivity, considering Sam just died) goes on about how she totally understands how they went to so much trouble! Buuuut, fuck off home boys I will always find somebody I care about more than you! That whole big, cathartic hug and resolve to have a real relationship with each other? Oh, look, the writers turned that clock right back just to give us more bullshit shallow soap drama of the Winchesters being super invested in a Mary who clearly does not actually give a single fuck about them and isn't shy about letting that show. I mean, if I felt like the writers were doing this on purpose, intending for us to feel like Mary is just a deeply shitty person at her core, at least that would be something. Instead they keep trying to insist there's a relationship here both ends care about but, oops, ~*somehow*~ abandonment drama keeps happening! I honestly don't know why I'm supposed to find Mary any less contemptuous than Samuel Campbell. Seriously, why? I question whether she would literally adopt Lucifer before she would be considerate of Sam and Dean's feelings at this point. I don't get why they, or I, should care about her given the givens. AT ALL, let alone to the point of risking reality - or are we forgetting about that whole warning thing from Billie completely? Which is not even to mention the way Mary basically laughs at Dean's concern Jack could go dark side. Oh yeah, the woman who spent last season being duped by the BMOL and schtupping Ketch obviously has superior judgment about things like that! Not to mention the irony of her saying of course Jack will be interested, Lucifer's his father, no harm can come of that! Or are we not supposed to draw a parallel between how much Sam and Dean risked this season in the name of their likewise shit mother for no more substantial connection?

At this point I honestly wonder, does Singer or somebody else on staff have an unholy fuckton of mommy issues? First there was that whole horrible tumor of a plotline with Crowley and Rowena and now this nonsense. Oh, but look, Mary's soooo cool, she's such a “badass” fighter and keeps punching Lucifer in the face, LOL! That totally makes up for it! In short - fuck you, SPN writers, for once again making alive!Mary less of an understandable three-dimensional character than she was when she was dead.

After the reunionating, we waste some time with some random Apocaworld NPCs. Remember how Michael was supposedly amassing his forces at a weak point between realities and was going to break through and attack the regular world at any time? On top of the whole rift spell thing? Time sensitive, nah, the good guys are going to sit here waffling back and forth for a while with some nobodies and a replacement goldfish Bobby about whether they should stay in their burned out world. Who cares? I don't. It’s especially comical following as it does after the previous week’s OMG NO TIME!!! malarkey. Also feel pretty awkward about the celebration at the end, these people are either strangers or strangers wearing the faces of dead friends that they've just randomly invited into their supposedly secure bunker of magical artifacts. Acting like being all blasé about it is not kinda creepy is ... really very creepy.

In terms of the whole Charlie and Ketch on a mission side plot, I think the writers were desperately trying to create some kind of meaningful parallel between regular Cas and Indiana Jones cartoon villian reject AU!Cas. With them both doing the angel interrogation thing and the line about being the same, or whatever? Like, if they can just desperately imply AU!Cas is actually badass then therefore vicariously... Even still, I actually minded this ridiculous IHAVEANACCENTSOI'MADIFFERENTCHARACTER!Cas less than the previous ones? Putting aside the part where it’s complete nonsense that he’s the only familiar angel with the same damn vessel, somehow, for reasons? I could actually see a clueless alternate universe Cas trying to figure out how to be intimidating to humans and ending up doing a bad adventure film Nazi impression.

Bad accent shenanigans and faux depth attempts aside, I did enjoy the rescue scene. Not!Charlie's reaction to being hugged by a giant stranger and Ketch's look and quip at Dean particularly. While I think they missed a bit of an opportunity to make a direct Satan at the wheel joke when they had Lucifer drive the bus, I found it amusing for that nonetheless. I also actually did like the scene between Sam and Jack and Lucifer there as they’re leaving. Putting aside the general thrust of the episode's story and exactly why Jack figured he'd be able to pop off and kill Michael in five minutes or so, it was pretty apt to have Lucifer talk to him about thinking you're doing the right thing and having the right thing go wrong. Of course Lucifer knows all about that - back when he was actually scary, it was how he manipulated everyone. It's almost out of place for how much sense it makes here for him to sway Jack with that reasoning. I also actually liked that Rowena had managed to find a way to bolster the spell and keep it open just that much longer.

Not so much in favor of how, of course, Michael shows up at the very last second. Or how Gabriel offers to sacrifice himself by fighting more powerful AU!Michael with … basically zero grace power. It made no sense at all, made his resurrection to ruin his redemption arc just to give him a different one even more essentially pointless, and literally the only reason Jack didn't stay behind as the most powerful member of their party to guard their retreat was scripted contrivance. More specifically, to have Sam ditch Lucifer so Lucifer will team up with Michael and maybe to Jack be all upset? Which, again, if it happens can only happen because no one was actually willing to tell him exactly why everyone knows his father is a dick. BECAUSE REASONS! So much eye-rolling, so little time.

I mean, it's not like Michael wasn't already planning to come through elsewhere anyway. It's not like they didn't already try ditching Lucifer in Apocaworld once already and saw how permanent of a solution that WASN'T (including how it gave Michael an extra source of archangel grace). It's not like Lucifer is capable of ever figuring out redemption involves real remorse and might actually turn good so there was some real dilemma for him here beyond having to team up with someone he hates. I guess there were actually some people that were all pissed off at Sam on Lucifer's behalf but that's incredibly gullible and weird, tbh. Like, there are people who actually bought all that crocodile tears sad face self pity bullshit? Just … wow.

Anyway, maybe this dumb idea of an ending will have some non-contrived point that comes up in the finale episode that I haven't got to yet, but I seriously doubt it.

#spn 13x22 #spn season 13 #negativity for ts #anti lucifer #anti mary winchester #writer incompetence #long post

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fourjokersandajudge · 3 years ago

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Impractical Jokers, Season 1, Episode 6 "Panty Raid"

Liveblogging observations/opinions:

Not sure that I can continue to keep up this pace...but I’m trying.

CHALLENGE ONE: KARATE KIDS

Today the guys are at Tiger Schulmanns pose as kickboxing/grappling instructors. They are pairing up - Joe/Murr and Q/Sal. They have to do everything the other guys tell them and if they refuse, they lose.

Joe’s/Murr’s turn - LOL @ “You guys look like a couple of great senseis...NOT!” Shinsho James and Shinsho Joe start the class with a roleplaying activity in which Joe and Murr pretend that they are in a bullying confrontation in a parking lot over a parking space. They end up in a position where they have their arms around each other and are rolling around the floor. After they are done, they ask the students in their class to “pair up and start rolling.” LOL!!! To demonstrate what happens if the attacker comes in from behind, Murr jumps on Joe’s back. Joe promptly drops to the floor. In the back room, Sal has fallen down from laughter...I believe that this is the first time that has happened (and most certainly not the last). Joe appears to almost have lost his pants...as he gets back up, he is seen adjusting them. LOL! Both Joe and Murr then start punching the same punching bag, pretending that it is a bully who has taken their lunch money. Q tells Murr to jump up on the bag...so Murr does a fancy cartwheel and jumps right onto the jumping bag, creating so much momentum that he slowly tips over...so graceful! HA HA After he gets back up, Joe takes a quick swipe at his upper lip...upper lip sweat alert!! As Murr describes all of the different areas of the body one must protect in a fight (which Joe points out one at a time), he includes the groin. Q and Sal tell Joe to touch Murr’s groin to which Joe refuses and walks out. LOL!!

Q’s and Sal’s turn - Murr tells Sal to demonstrate how NOT to hit and Sal gives a girly swipe and kick at Q. LOL!!!!!! Murr tells Sal to tell the class that he’s going to teach them a new move called the “You go, girl!” (Side note: the look on Q’s face when Murr says the name of the move is absolutely PRICELESS!!) Sal proceeds to lay down and Q prepares to “attack” him. When Q goes to hit him, Sal says “nuh uh, girl” and then the two engage in a tickle fight. HA HA!! Sal quickly gains dominance over Q and is tickling Murr so much that Q is giggling like a little girl. Too funny!!

LOSERS - JOE and MURR

In between the first two challenge, there is a shot of the guys walking down the street chatting with each other about whether or not they think that they still have game.

CHALLENGE TWO: NEWS LOSERS

The guys are pretending to be tv reporters in Times Square. If they refuse to say or do what the other guys tell them, they lose.

First time for a bowtie on Murr - and the first time that he’s been made fun of for it. LOL!

Sal’s turn - Sal fairly quickly gets a bite on a participant a young man who is originally from New York, but now lives in Texas. Sal is told to wave his hand back in front by his butt as though he’s trying to wave away the smell of a fart - the young man calls him out on it. He gets another interviewee. He is told that he needs to drool. At first it looks like the young man isn’t going to acknowledge it, but then he does...and Sal wipes his chin off. Thumbs up!

Murr’s turn - Murr’s mark is an older man named Smitty who’s smoking a cigar. Sal tells Murr to touch Smitty in as many places on his body as possible with the microphone. Eventually, Murr’s microphone ends up in front of Smitty’s crotch. LOL!! Murr’s second try is with a couple. He is told to insinuate that the woman is the man’s mother (instead of wife/girlfriend). He refuses to do it which earns him a loss on this challenge.

Joe’s turn - Joe’s participant is a man named Nick. Joe is told that he has to keep mumbling “squeeze it” as the man is speaking. LOL!!! Then he is told to just hold the microphone up to the man’s mouth and stare at him, but not say anything. Then Joe is told to gradually get closer and closer to Nick’s face. Nick awkwardly continues to stare forward and not at Joe. He gets a win.

Q’s turn - Q’s mark is a lady whose name is Siddhi (she’s from India), but Q looks confused and tells her that he’s going to call her Sammy (at Joe’s suggestion). Q asks her about the heat and “Sammy” just starts rambling aboud every topic under the sun. Q eventually hands her the mic, hails a cab, and leaves the interview. Sammy continues to talk even after Q leaves. Thumbs up.

LOSER - MURR

In between challenges, we get another shot of the guys walking down the street and chatting. This time they are discussing which of the four is the least approachable of the four.

CHALLENGE THREE: YOU DON’T WANT THAT (Joker vs Joker - Murr vs Sal)

The guys are at a pharmacy and they have to try to convince a customer to NOT buy a specific item because of a reason that is given to them by the other guys.. They have to do and say whatever the other guys tell them - if they refuse, they lose.

Murr’s turn - Murr is told to convince a man not to buy a certain package of baby wipes - the reason he is given (from Sal) is Nazi Germany. Murr makes up a story about Hitler and Eva Braun having a baby and they chose to use these particular wipes on the baby. LOL @ “You right about that!” Murr gets a thumbs up after the man changes his mind about the wipes.

Sal’s turn - Sal’s mark is an older lady in a floppy hat. The product he has to discourage her from buying is a metal nail file and the reason is because of prison riots. LOL!!! In the middle of Sal and the lady’s discussion, they are interrupted by a couple of the lady’s elderly friends. He ends up losing because he says that he is getting “granny-blocked”. HA HA!!! Sal gets a loss.

LOSER-SAL

When giving the challenge results summary, I love the joke told about his mom and Murr. LOL!

Once again, we see the guys walking down the street and chatting with each other. This time, they are talking about Sal’s bad luck and how one time, he came out to his car and there was a homeless man sleeping on it. I have to say that I am absolutely loving these little mid-challenge vignettes - I wish that they still did them.

CHALLENGE FOUR: TOUCHY FEELY

The guys are back on the boardwalk giving massages to passers-by. Whoever gets the fewest tips loses. And Q is doubly creeped out and impressed with how good Murr is at giving him a massage (which he is doing during the challenge introduction).

Murr’s turn - Murr’s mark is a young lady named Mary. Sal prompts Murr to tell the girl that he’s going to give her a neck-gasm to which the lady seems against because her dad is close by and watching. She gets out of the chair. Murr moves on to another lady. After her massage, she gives him a $1 tip.

Sal’s turn - Sal's mark is a middle-aged man. Sal checks to see if he’s ticklish. Sal’s second mark is a young man named Jeff. Sal is told to belch loudly. After the massage, he is given a $2 tip.

Q’s turn - Q gets a man in his chair. He is told to “get a full sense of the man’s body” and to lay down on top of him. LOL!!!!. He stays there for a while, not working on the man at all. Sal is rather antsy...not sure what he’s doing (maybe laughing extra hard). The man gets up and leaves without leaving a tip.

Joe’s turn - A young lady sits down in Joe’s chair. Joe is told to give the massage using anything but his hands. He starts with his chin and then uses his nose (a technique called the jackhammer). HA HA!! He closes out the massage using his butt. A second girl hops into the chair. Joe is told to start slowly taking off random articles of clothing. As he’s doing his routine, stripper music plays as the soundtrack. LOL! By the time the massage is done, Joe is standing only in his underwear. I’m a bit disturbed that during part of him standing in his skivvies, his crotch is blurred out. WTF!!!!!! Apparently, Joe was kind of excited for the massage to be over. LOL!! He ends up with a 50 cent tip.

LOSER-Q

During the results summary, Joe jokes about having a huge tip. SMH! LOL!

EPISODE LOSER - MURR

Punishment time - Murr has to go into a laundromat, find a patron’s underwear, and put them on his own head for ten seconds. I have no words...LOL! Murr at first refused to do it, but after some coaxing from the other guys, he makes his way into the shop. He sees a target in the back and slowly makes his way over to her. As he’s sizing up the situation, the woman’s husband shows up and starts circling. Eventually, Murr gets the panties from the woman’s laundry and puts them on his head. Meanwhile, the other guys are losing their minds. The woman calls him out on it. He gives the panties back and sheepishly makes his way out of the laundromat.

Number of belly laughs: 11

My personal rating - 7 (out of 10)

#impractical jokers #season 1 #episode 6 #opinions #commentary #s1e6 #review

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florrickandassociates · 7 years ago

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TGF Thoughts: 2x06-- Day 443

Sorry for the delay, guys. I liked this episode but for some reason I found it super boring to rewatch and kept putting off writing this. (I think you will be able to tell that I was writing this just to write something.)

A chair sits in a brightly lit, half unfinished room. This turns out to be the studio where Adrian is recording an interview with Cable News (they say it like it’s a proper noun in this episode so I’ve decided it is). Adrian looks uncomfortable doing this—the strange room, the logistics of the interview, the soundcheck, the unmanned camera.

We only hear Adrian’s side of the interview, and we have no context for it, so it sounds awkward. He misgenders someone (he can’t see the rest of the panel) (this is just like s5 Alicia!) and makes a comment about a case and then it’s over.

When Adrian arrives at the office, he’s wearing a black baseball cap. I am not sure why but it’s a look.

Marissa applauds him when he gets off the elevator—apparently the ten words he said were super impressive. Marissa also informs Adrian that Diane and Julius are in his office and there’s a visitor there for him. What, exactly, is Marissa’s job?

There are still boxes left over from the party. That’s a lot of booze.

“The next time they ask me to be a pundit, tell me no,” Adrian laughs, thinking he made a fool of himself.

“Wait, wait, wait, we’ve got to discuss Lucca,” Diane says as Adrian starts to leave. “We can’t ask her if she’s pregnant. It’s illegal,” Julius explains. “And Lucca’s not saying anything,” Adrian understands. The partners quickly realize that Lucca’s not saying anything specifically so she isn’t bumped from “the biggest case of the year” which goes to trial in two months.

Julius’s solution is to “talk to her friend Maia” to get info about Lucca’s pregnancy. Well, that’s shitty. Also, where is Liz? In this episode, but also in this scene specifically. We get Julius for this but not the name partner who is a mother?

The dude involved in the Peeper case Adrian referenced on Cable News shows up in the conference room, wanting Adrian to represent him.

And it’s Adrian’s lucky day, because a prominent Chicago lawyer we’ve never heard of is in reception too! Diane seems more impressed by him than I would think, since I was long under the impression that Diane Lockhart was supposed to be one of the biggest names in the Chicago legal world.

Ok I take that back, this Franz dude says “And Diane Lockhart, I know you,” when after introducing himself to Adrian. Ok, good.

He also knows Julius. Where has Julius been these past few episodes? I thought he was a series regular. Maybe he went for a visit to the New York office. Or he was spending time with the six children he has.

Franz was impressed with Adrian’s Cable News appearance too. It apparently has 300,000 likes.

Franz tries to stand while everyone from RBL sits, and Adrian won’t let him. I’m reminded of the Supreme Court Superlawyer in W4x09 who preached at Diane, Will, and Alicia. Adrian remains standing, so Franz can’t literally talk down to him.

Then some weird pantomiming of fighting happens. I am unsure what is going on, but I do know that Adrian’s air punches have been gifed and are on GIPHY or something, because on my commute home one day this week I looked up for a second and saw a gif of Adrian from this scene on someone else’s phone screen. (Sadly, he selected another, non-TGF gif to use in his conversation.)

Oh, we are talking about Wilk Hobson again. I didn’t realize he was in multiple episodes—I only remembered him from 2x05—but he popped up last night when I was rewatching 4x17, and IMDb says he’s also in 2x10.

Franz wants to talk about the lawyer killings. In fact, he informs RBL, “the big six firms have been meeting over the past few weeks to discuss how to address this problem.” I’ve never heard of the Big Six firms, but I guess that makes sense. If all firms in Fictional Chicago go through as much turmoil as LG always did, I can definitely believe there’s an alliance of six firms we’ve never heard of before.

Franz extends RBL an invitation to meet with the Big Six, because he saw Adrian on Cable News.

After the meeting, Diane and Adrian are shocked and Julius is so excited he’s had to leave the room (lol no he’s just disappeared without an explanation again). “What DID you say on Cable News?” Diane asks.

Now we get to see the Cable News panel from the other side, and I’m still not sure why what Adrian said is impressive. It lasts for about five seconds and he offers some mild pushback. That’s it. I feel like if you’re going to bother with showing something from one perspective and then later filling in the blanks, the scene should make sense the second time around. It still seems awkward and abrupt to me, and even though I’ve seen the episode and know what Peeper is, I don’t get what Adrian’s talking about. I am not sure what would get this clip 300,000 likes?

Diane and Marissa (who’s popped up because… idk she has) encourage Adrian to go on Cable News again.

The fact that Adrian has a framed picture of himself with Obama is fantastic but it doesn’t really help me believe that his office is anything other than Diane’s office, redecorated. Just swap out the Hillary/Diane pic for an Obama/Adrian one…

Adrian was doubting his Cable News abilities, but not anymore!

Julius goes to talk to Maia about Lucca’s pregnancy. Maia is at a table rather than a work station and Julius asks why. “I got here too late,” Maia says. Why would you tell your boss that, Maia? I can’t imagine RBK is chill with people strolling in whenever they want (though actually, maybe they would have a flex hours program) and you probs shouldn’t tell a partner that you arrived to work too late to grab a desk.

Julius asks Maia about Lucca’s “condition” and they both know what he’s talking about. “I think she wants to be thought of as a lawyer and not an expectant mother,” Maia explains. Yeah, something like that. And Lucca’s not even slightly wrong to assume her pregnancy would affect things.

Case in point: seconds after Maia says this, Julius doubles back to ask Maia to take the lead on the next step in Lucca’s big case. Maia is stunned and runs after Julius to protest her new assignment. It’s Lucca’s case, after all. When Maia asks why she’s been put in charge of the motion, Julius says “I’m a partner, and you’re an associate, and I want you to take it.” Good ‘ol Julius. I think he takes pleasure in lording his power over underlings.

“Is this about Lucca’s condition?” Maia asks. Um, yes, it obviously is. Equally obvious is that Julius would never say that out loud.

“No. It’s about you having a chance to be first chair,” Julius replies.

“Does Lucca know?” Maia asks next. “No. Go ahead and tell her!” Julius tells Maia. Seriously, he sounds delighted to give Maia this task.

Maia immediately goes to inform Lucca. “You are different since your ride-along,” Lucca observes after Maia makes a comment about being fine without a desk. What? First Maia was different after prison, now she’s different after her ride-along… can we stop saying Maia’s changed so much? And if we’re going to stick with that narrative, can it at least be consistent? I don’t even understand what her ride-along would’ve changed or how her comment about desks is possibly related to it.

Lucca jumps right into talking about the case, and Maia hesitantly tells her about what Julius asked her to do. Lucca asks why, and Maia says she doesn’t know, but Julius was asking about her “condition.” Lucca just goes, “Oh, fuck.” She’s not thrilled that the partners are assuming things about her work performance.

“You haven’t even told me, and I’m your friend,” Maia says. … Lucca is v obviously pregnant (she’s showing!). But, as she says, it’s not that she’s unaware that others can tell—it’s at least in part “just having those words [I’m pregnant] come out of my mouth. It feels weird.”

“Now, here’s the other worry. I’m on the partner track. For the first time in my career, I have some traction. And now I’m worried they’ll use… this to penalize me,” Lucca explains.

This prompts Maia to say what may be the smartest thing I’ve ever heard Maia say: that the partners can’t legally penalize Lucca for her pregnancy, but if she continues to keep it a secret, they can blame “performance” and make moves against her without being liable.

I do not remember much about the opposing counsel in the COTW, Amber Wood Lutz, but I remember that she was on last season and I expected her to become a recurring player. And here we are again.

“Every time a new lawyer is killed, I think of you,” she tells Adrian. I definitely don’t remember this rivalry. It was probably a thing. I just don’t remember it.

Mike from Veep is a judge now! He keeps saying that trials are nothing like what we see on TV. He even makes the same comments twice. The point—which could’ve been conveyed in far fewer lines, IMO—is that this trial is going to become extremely theatrical (even by TGW/F standards) since Adrian’s in Cable News mode.

This case is not that interesting. It could be, but it’s not much more than an excuse to talk about the alt-right and neo-Nazis. So, I probably won’t comment on it much, if at all.

Diane and Adrian head from court to a meeting of the Big Six Plus RBL, which is being held in a space that looks like the Cheesecake Factory but for people who think they’re too classy for the Cheesecake Factory.

Amber Wood Lutz is also in the Big Six. Adrian believes this is because they are “pretending to be diverse.”

I really don’t know how I’m forgetting this Amber/Adrian rivalry from last season. It’s quite intense.

Oh God, I’m only just at the credits? Can you tell from how sloppy my writing is that I just want to get this written? This episode wasn’t bad and it wasn’t great. It wasn’t even that interesting. I like writing about things that give me a lot to chew on, and I like writing about things that are so terrible I can rant for pages. Recapping something boring… is boring.

This episode was written and directed by women! (Finally.)

RBL is asked to donate $40,000 pretty much immediately after they sit down at the table. The widow of a wealthy lawyer needs $40,000 donations from seven firms? Why the fuck does she need $280k?

“We are being hunted,” Franz says. The show would like us to believe, at least to an extent, that the lawyer killings aren’t being investigated thoroughly because the police and lawyers aren’t friendly and everyone hates lawyers.

Now we get a rehash of the debate about giving the police your firm’s client list that we already heard in 2x03. That reminds me, when do we get to learn more about Liz’s husband?

Adrian comes up with a good next step for the Big Six. And then he’s on Cable News again (okay, it’s called Review of the Day). This time, he isn’t doing an interview remotely, but it’s the same show. If the show was in Chicago this whole time, why was Adrian doing the interview remotely from a studio in the first place?

There is another black man on the panel that night—“I’m the young, angry activist. You’re the older Obama statesman. That’s the only way they keep two black pundits on the panel, if we both stick to our lanes,” the other panelist warns. Adrian waves this advice off.

There’s been another lawyer killing, only this one may be racially motivated as well. Or, at least, that’s what Cable News thinks. This goes about as well as anyone who has ever watched a panel on actual cable news would expect, which is to say that people start screaming at each other about racism and making claims they can’t support based off of baseless assumptions they’ve made.

Adrian then insults Asshole Panelist and says he’s being overpaid to “ignorantly yap your mouth off.” Heh. I get why that one might go viral.

This makes the other panelists mad. Asshole Panelist thinks Adrian is playing high and mighty and the other black panelist accuses him of intentionally coming after his job. Even the host isn’t thrilled: Adrian mentioned money, and you’re not supposed to mention money.

Adrian’s second appearance is poorly received by some of his peers, even though this time, he was sure of what he was doing. Diane (playfully) accuses Adrian of intentionally stirring up trouble, and Adrian doesn’t deny it. Instead, he smiles and laughs.

For some reason there is a young woman who wants an autograph in reception at Adrian’s office. Don’t y’all have security?

Case stuff happens.

Lucca waits nervously to talk to the partners. She chats with Marissa a little and informs her of her pregnancy. “I’m telling everyone now,” she says. Marissa says she’s going to throw Lucca a shower—with a stripper. I want to see that! The shower, not the stripper. (Though…)

The partners congratulate Lucca when she shares her news. It seems genuine enough, and I’d love to believe that the partners won’t hold Lucca’s pregnancy against her. It’s certainly possible not to! I just need to see it to believe it with these people at this firm on this show.

“The birth date is scheduled for May 22nd,” Lucca says. It’s SCHEDULED? Honey. I’ve never spent any time around babies and even I know that you can’t make a baby obey your schedule. Lucca claims she’ll be back at work on the 25th. I’m curious to see how Lucca’s priorities and expectations shift over the course of the season. I think it’s very reasonable that she would want to keep working and I definitely don’t expect—or want—to have that choice invalidated. But a lot of what Lucca’s saying right now sounds more like denial of the realities of being a parent and nervousness about losing the things that are part of her identity than an actual plan for parenting.

Julius Cain is the father of six. I am assuming he doesn’t spend much time with any of his SIX kids given that there are six of them, and in nine years we’ve never heard about a single one. Poor Julius. The writing for him seems to consist of excuses for why he’s been absent and revelations that are out of left field. (Though I do buy that he’s the father of six. If you told me he was the father of six and he was very involved in his kids’ lives, I might have a problem believing that.)

Yeah, the partners are just putting on a show. They’re still going to watch Lucca very carefully. And they’re going to keep Maia ready to step in. If this case is so big, why is MAIA the backup plan? No offense to Maia (or maybe offense to Maia)—she hasn’t proven herself capable of this so why would the partners trust her with a big case?

The Big Six are back at Fancy Cheesecake Factory because that’s their favorite spot. I don’t even know what’s going on. It’s about police suits. I don’t care, since I know this whole conversation is lead-up to the reveal about Franz trying to woo RBL into dropping their police brutality suits so he’ll get more business from the police. It’s also a theoretical debate about issues I can’t have a stance on because they’re created for the show. Are the police failing to investigate lawyer killings? I mean, IDK, because the lawyer killings are fiction.

JULIUS wants to pursue police brutality cases and DIANE wants to drop them because “it’s worth every fucking irritation in the world!!!” to sit with the Big Six? What kind of opposite land is this where the Trump voter wants to hold the police accountable and the Hillary voter who gives no fucks is obsessed with status? (I don’t think it’s out of character for Diane to consider trading her values for status. I just think it’s weird that right now Diane is concerned with status, and also that she’s literally screaming at Julius about this.)

ALSO WHERE IS LIZ?

Lucca and Colin are in court with Judge Friend (hello!) and Colin tries to move the trial out by four months, to the week Lucca’s due in May.

OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE WRITERS, DID YOU NAME THE EPISODES AFTER REAL-TIME DATES JUST TO DRIVE ME MAD? Lucca and Colin hooked up after the Rindell case (202), but that was five months ago, even though it was the 415th day of the Trump administration and this is the 443rd day. And the 443rd day is in April, but May is four months away. Writers. If the dates aren’t going to have any bearing on the timeline of the show, maybe pick a different gimmick? Plus, it’s fucking annoying to memorize numbers.

Lucca and Colin fight in an elevator about the timing. Colin is more than a little annoyed that Lucca seems to be expecting him to ignore her pregnancy. While I agree that Lucca is expecting everyone to just ignore it, I feel like maybe if Colin wants Lucca to be more open with him, he should be supportive of her and her decisions and not incessantly propose to her (when it should be obvious to anyone who has ever met Lucca she would not want that) slash lash out against her in court.

Apparently Colin knows—or Lucca believes he does—that Maia would be the one to try the case if Lucca couldn’t. Why would Colin know that? And again, why would this fall on Maia?

Marissa hatches a plan because she believes Franz has ulterior motives. In a cafeteria, she chats with his assistant. His very chatty assistant. Turns out he wants the business of the police.

Case stuff happens. The jury is totally captivated by Television Personality Adrian Boseman, and the judge isn’t having it and tries to tell Adrian not to play to the jury. Diane objects and asks what, specifically, Adrian is doing wrong, and for the judge to rule on her objection.

“To quote a lawyer that I respected, ‘I want a ruling that I can appeal,’” Diane explains. Awwww, it’s a Will reference! (Will says this in W116, to Judge Lessner). IMO, these small, subtle references to Will are meant to show that Diane’s thinking about her former partner. And how could she not be thinking about him each time another lawyer is murdered?

Diane did not witness Will asking for a ruling he could appeal, so I imagine he must have told her the story at some point. Since there’s already a scene in W116 where Will recaps his case to Diane (he’s talking about auditioning for Bishop and groveling), it’s so easy to picture a conversation between them about this moment.

Back at Fancy Cheesecake Factory, Adrian and Diane fuck shit up by announcing that Franz is trying to land the business of the police (and that’s the only reason he invited RBL to the meetings in the first place). When the lawyers start arguing over one another, Diane and Adrian, satisfied with the mess they’ve made, leave. Hehe.

Lucca and Colin haven’t settled on a court date, so Lucca decides to tell Judge Friend that she’s pregnant and Colin’s the father. I don’t have much to say but it’s a really fun scene.

Colin shows up at Lucca’s office and explains his motivations. He didn’t want Lucca off the case: he wanted Lucca to be able to relax and not be stressed about the case! “This was for your benefit!” he says. “Oh my God. I didn’t think this could get any worse, but here we go,” Lucca responds accurately.

Colin is concerned Lucca might miscarry if she’s stressed. He asks if he can be even a little concerned, and she says that he can’t. Especially not if he’s going to express his concern that way!! Lucca also says she regrets having sex with Colin, and Colin’s all “I didn’t regret it.” Sigh. Lucca’s turned him down so many times. If there’s a way to win Lucca over—and there might not be!—this is definitely NOT it.

Anyway, Colin has info to help in the Peeper case. Which means that more case stuff happens and RBL wins.

Adrian calls Marissa (at work) to thank her for finding dirt on Franz. And to give her a 10% raise. “This is the first raise I’ve ever gotten,” she replies. “First of many, I’m sure,” he says. Aww. I like what they’re doing with Marissa and Adrian this year. It’s clear she respects him, and also clear that he’s recognizing her work when she does a good job (also clear is the fact she is doing a good job).

Adrian goes back on Cable News and finds out that J.D. (the young black man) is no longer on the panel.

On the panel, Asshole Panelist starts crying reverse racism. Adrian decides to burn all bridges with the show and its inanity, and he tries to stir shit up by getting the white panelists to say the n-word. Heh. Diane watches the clip (with a glass of wine and, likely, some drugs) at her desk and laughs.

Then she swivels around in her chair and hallucinates the Trump Mask People fucking. She laughs even harder. How many scenes of Diane laughing loudly is too many? I don’t think there could ever be too many scenes of Diane laughing.

I love Adrian not giving a fuck about what the host of the show has to say. He tells him off and then the ep ends with Adrian looking at himself in the mirror. This is a much better Adrian-centric episode than last week’s effort.

#I'M DONE WITH WRITING THIS!! FINALLY!!!#it's not even like it's a long post by my standards #The good fight #TGFThoughts

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sinrau · 4 years ago

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Last night, the world watched America turn into North Korea. Or at least Washington, DC. By way of the absurd, comical, jaw-dropping spectacle that Trump’s made of the RNC.

If Monty Python to wanted to write a parody of textbook authoritarianism, they couldn’t do any better. What cliched, farcical elements of authoritarianism were there, on loud, violent display?

Not just the general atmosphere of gloating and sneering, rage and contempt. Not even the fact that the White House was pimped for political gain. Nor even the build-up speeches from functionaries, like the Secretary of State, that consisted of…nothing whatsoever but veneration and prostration to the immaculate perfection of Dear Leader.

There was the fact that much of the night consisted of…well…Trumps. Authoritarianism is a family business — Big Daddy builds a dynasty, and his kids pick up the mantle. That was the message of Eric and Tiffany Trump giving equally bizarre speeches. Imagine for a moment if Hunter Biden or Malia Obama gave a speech at the DNC. The nation’s pundits would be in an uproar. But Eric Trump? Apparently that’s OK, because we’ve all been worn down by Trump’s transgressions by now. What on earth do Eric and Tiffany Trump have to say about…anything? What do they know about…anything? Yet there they were. Why? Let me make the import of this moment clear.

The authoritarian is now grooming his kids to take over the family business,* which is dictatorship , the abuse of power, fascism.* That is a very, very bad sign. It is a thing that happens when democracies are about to break and die. It tells us the authoritarian is confident he can break the back of a society. That he doesn’t care at all anymore who knows he intends to do it. It is not to be taken lightly. It is as massive, flagrant, loud abuse of power — and warning sign — there can be. It’s not just a comical moment, though it’s usually funny to watch a dictator’s idiot kids on podiums. It means that authoritarianism is growing in scale, scope, reach, confidence, power, gravity, aspiration, developing a long game, capable of reaching across generations, emboldened to keep a stranglehold on democracy.

Then there was Melania’s even more bizarre speech. Styled in a military jacket — designer authoritarian-chic — Melania detailed how Trump was just a man fighting impossible odds, doing his best, heroically, for a troubled nation. He was strong and wise. He was always there when you needed him. And thanks to him, America was doing better than it ever had before. And by the way, if you’d lost someone to Covid, Melania extended you her warmest sympathies.

Wait, what? 170,000 — no, wait, 180,000 dead now — and counting. If my spouse had been responsible for…mass death…you know what? I’d probably get a divorce. Even if — no, especially if — they were the head of state. Let me make the meaning of this moment, too, crystal clear.

Melania was there to gaslight an entire nation. Think about it this way. Mafias need good guys and bad guys. The bad guy threatens to break your legs. The good guys pals around with you, acts like your friend, and pretends nobody’s threatened to break your legs. What, us? We’re Goodfellas!

That was Melania’s job. To gaslight an entire nation. Into believing the fictional alternate reality the Trumpists are trying to construct, and always have. Yesterday, that fictional alternate reality was: hated minorities like Latinos are responsible for all of America’s problems, they’re the reason you, the “real” American, don’t have healthcare, a job, money in the bank, dignity, self-worth, purpose and so forth — not your own stupid, self-destructive choices at the voting booth for the last four decades or so. Today, that fictional alternate reality is: Trump’s a hero! He rescued the economy! And Covid would be so much worse if he hadn’t intervened! He’s perfect!

Wait, what? 180,000 dead and counting, 30 million unemployed, 50 million facing eviction, a massive wave of bankruptcies , an economy teetering into depression , the worst public health crisis ** since…forever. That’s reality.Trump is the worst President there’s ever been, and that’s not a political statement — it’s an** objective empirical reality .

That disjuncture between what reality is and what the authoritarians need it to be is precisely why Melania gave that speech. Someone needs to gaslight the country, so that it doesn’t believe — or at least parts of it don’t believe, and I’ll come to that — in empirical reality. If people comfortably believed in reality, authoritarianism would never win, and yet instead it makes up most of human history. Hence, the absurd divergences — “Trump rescued the economy, he fixed Covid, etc”, while the bodies pile up by the hundreds of thousands, and people go broke by the millions. Who better than Melania to do it?

(After all, she’s not really a Trump, is she? The impression is that she’s somehow innocent of the abuses of power and hate and brutality of the “real” Trumps, because she’s just some kind of hapless immigrant, a dumb model, a powerless prisoner, a damsel in distress. But do you really gaslight an entire country if you…just want out? )

You might well ask something like “OK, Umair, Melania’s job was to gaslight a country, sure. But who on earth is dumb enough to buy this guff? Come on! LOL.” The answer to that, sadly, funnily, idiotically, would be…all of America’s intellectual class. I woke up, as you did, to op-ed after op-ed gushing over what a wonderful job Melania had done. How warm and fuzzy she’d been. How she’d connected with people, and displayed noble human qualities. How empathetic and kind and gentle and sweet she was. So brave! So strong. So courageous. Love you, Melania!

Wait, what?

“ She rounds out his rough edges.” She’s literally on a podium conditioning Americans to get used to mass death, depression, brutality, incompetence, corruption, stupidity, hate, lies —presenting a “ softer side ” to authoritarianism. Making it “ palatable.” And the American pundit celebrates it because it’s said with a winsome smile, not realizing that that was the point. Because she managed to acknowledge the pandemic that the RNC had managed to ignore until that point. To sympathize with families. The bar is so low, my friends. The bar is in hell. The answer to the question: “who on earth is dumb enough to believe in the gaslighting of America, at the point of literal mass death?” is, sadly, too many in a position of mainstream intellectual and cultural power in America.

That’s a big problem. Because while you might say to yourself, “Phew, I’m glad I don’t read the dumb NYT op-ed page anymore!” the question is: do you really get the danger American democracy’s in ? As in, really get it?

Let me ask that another way, with a much more visceral question.

If I was to say to you that America’s one step away from having classic features of authoritarian societies like secret polices and death squads, would you believe me? Probably not. “Death squads!” you chuckle to yourself. “Is this guy for real? LOL.”

So I invite you to take a look at Kenosha, Wisconsin. Where the police apparently shot yet another unarmed black man…in the back…for no reason whatsoever…multiple times. And now armed “ white supremacist militias ” are roaming the streets beating and maybe shooting people at will.

Those, my friends, are one step away from death squads.

Yes, really. And secret polices? Don’t forget who was beating moms and disappearing people in Portland just a few short weeks ago.

So let me ask you again. Do you really understand the danger America’s in?

My guess is that you don’t. That’s OK. You probably don’t have experience with authoritarianism. You’ve never experienced it, lived through it, seen its horrors up close and personal, suffered its abuses and depredations.

Let us survivors of authoritarianism warn you. This is not a drill. It’s not a game. It is the real thing.

When a spectacular event like the RNC takes place, it is a powerful signal. When kids are groomed for power, when spouses are rolled out to gaslight a country, when the house of government is used for political theatre — all that is telling you something. This is the real deal. It is authoritarian fascism of the absolute and lethal kind. It’s funny, until it’s deadly. Its objective is to murder democracy. To kill off its institutions — the rule of law, constitutions, rights, freedoms — and replace them with fascist-authoritarian ones, like secret polices, cronies, death squads, show trials, mock democracy, power held for life, and dynastically passed on to kids.

This is 100% real.

Now let me come back to you. If you’re the sane and thoughtful American, you’re probably equal parts amused and horrified by this spectacle. That’s OK, too. But don’t forget. You’re not the target. They don’t care if you’re laughing at them, the authoritarians. Why not?

The target is the minority of committed fanatics it takes to bring down a society. It’s never — never — taken a majority, from Stalinist Russia, to Nazi Germany, to Islam now. The goal is to drive them into a frenzy, a mania. By sending them all the signals above. “Wow, one of us can hold power forever,” thinks the Trumpist, watching the little Trumps give their bizarre speeches. Their hearts pound in anticipation. “Things really are getting better!! What a great guy Trump is!” thinks the Trumpist, watching Melania gaslight a nation. They grin in triumph.

The point is to drive the fanatical minority to a frenzy. So that they vote like never before.

Meanwhile, you? The sane American? The bad news is that you don’t vote. Maybe not you, specifically, but you, generally. America has the lowest voter participation rate in the rich world, by a very long way. Just above 50%. That’s barely a democracy at all, if you think about it. And mostly, it’s sane, thoughtful Americans who don’t vote — the fanatics and extremists on the right do. That’s how they’ve captured society’s political institutions wholesale, all the way to the White House.

The authoritarian personality grasps all of this intuitively. They don’t need pollsters to tell them, usually. They just know. That the good people don’t vote. That the silent majority stays silent. And so all they have to do is goad and whip their base into a manic, hysterical state, and then use it to capture power forever. If you think I’m kidding, go ahead and take a look at Iran, Russia, North Korea.

Let me distill the point I’m trying to make. Authoritarianism means “most of us didn’t want this. ” That’s the part Americans still don’t get, I think. They seem to imagine, too many of them, that simply laughing at the bad guys is going to defeat them. It’s not.

This is how authoritarian collapses happen. All this. Exactly. An aspiring tyrant who’s absued power for years jokes about never leaving office. He builds a dynasty in plain sight. His wife gaslights the nation. The intellectuals have never read a history book — and they appear to have no clue, and normalize all this as just another legitimate kind of politics, through op-eds that glorify it all. But fascism is not legitimate, not normal. It’s deeply abnormal.

Meanwhile, the nascent institutions of real violence begin to emerge. Today’s paramilitaries are tomorrow’s death squads. Today’s phalanx of mysterious men without badges are tomorrow’s secret police. Today’s vigilante mobs are tomorrow’s SS’s, and today’s true believers are tomorrow’s Gestapos. Today’s “lock her up!” is tomorrow’s show trial. Today’s “enemies of the people!” is tomorrow’s opponents, rivals, dissidents thrown in camps — what did you think those camps were for? All of that is what’s on the cards.

Let us survivors of authoritarianism warn you. This is how it happens. Exactly how it happens. From the aspiring tyrant announcing his intention to stay in power, to the dynastic politics, to the intellectual class normalizing it all, to the still silent majority — America deviates not one inch from the time-tested textbook of how societies collapse. Not one inch.

That brings me to the question Americans always have, to which the answer is so eminently obvious. “But what should we do?” Listen. You have one — just one — barely working institution left. An election.

You know what to do. You know what you should be planning to do right now, with friends, holding each other to account, encouraging others to do, building networks for, igniting, sparking.

You have to vote.

Like never before.

Like your life depends on it.

It does.

Umair

August 2020

The Trumps are Gaslighting a Collapsing America

#IFTTT #WordPress

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aresaphrodites · 7 years ago

Text

this crown of thorns.

Summary:

She never knew Jughead Jones. She would never know the man in that video, happy and carefree amidst all the death and war around them.

She knew Winter; a man who was fearless, feared. A man who was quiet and cold, almost a statue of a human being. She knew a man with enough demons and monsters to echo her own. She knew a man that stayed up all night, thoughts plagued with nightmares of deaths he wished he could forget. She didn’t know the war hero, she knew the asset; the man who brought war with him. She loved Winter. She didn’t love Jughead.

MARVEL AU. Some events were taken from CA:TWS. Betty = Black Widow. Archie = Captain America. Jughead = The Winter Soldier. Veronica is Hawkeye, Reggie is Iron Man, and Cheryl is Scarlet Witch although they’re only really mentioned, not key characters in the story.

As of right now, this story is just a one shot. I could consider adding another part if anyone wants it, though.

Thank you to @bettydooper and @itstenafterfour for cheering me on with this fic. And thank you to @jaded-youth for helping me with the ending. You guys are too good to me.

Jug speaks Russian in this fic so a few translations are (and don’t blame me if they aren’t entirely correct. I used Google, lol.):

Не стесняйтесь - Do not hesitate.

мое сердце - My heart.

Вы мое сердце - You are my heart.

ENJOY!

Life is weird. You wake up one day and you don’t really know how you got there or what happened prior to that one specific day. It’s just like you wake up and suddenly you can’t really remember anything from before, but you know that you’ve been alive for however many consecutive years and it’s just weird. People show you pictures and videos of yourself and they laugh about how cute and funny you used to be. They say things like ‘Oh, remember that time when?’ but no. You don’t remember any of it. You don’t remember a single thing. You nod, though. You nod and act like you have any clue what they’re talking about.

Betty Cooper sometimes feels like she hasn’t known anything from before she was a teenager. She doesn’t remember what it was like to be a child. She can’t remember if she was ever actually a child at all. She has no memories of swings and playgrounds. She doesn’t remember what it’s like to have tea parties and play with dolls.

She must have been a little girl at some point. She didn’t just wake up one day at the age of ten. Someone must have given birth to her. She must have had a mother and a father, maybe even a brother or a sister. She wonders if they’re still alive, if they ever think of her. She thinks about searching for them sometimes, but she never goes through with it. She’s scared of what she could find. She knows not to get her hopes up. Good things don’t happen to people like her.

Betty Cooper might have been a little girl once, but she had never been a child. She never would be a child.

“Cooper,” a voice calls from behind her. She turns around and Archie Andrews is looking at her with those eyes of his that always look so dead, so tired. “You okay?”

She feels bad that he’s asking her that. She doesn’t deserve to have people worry over her. Archie Andrews though, he deserved that. A fallen war hero, barely back from the dead itself; he deserved all the love and worry that he was faced with constantly. She knew that he hated having people baby him. He didn’t want the fame and responsibility that came with being Captain America; just like Betty never wanted the dread and death that followed Black Widow around.

“Great,” she tells him, smiling the smile that she’s perfected over the years. It’s the one that says ‘I’m perfect. I’m perfect in all and every way.’

She hates it. She hates being perfect, because she knows that she is and she knows what it means. It doesn’t mean that she’s a good girl who never gets in trouble; a girl who is pure and kind. It doesn’t mean any of that. She’s the perfect killer. That’s all she’ll ever be.

Archie nods. He knows that she’s lying. He always knows when she’s lying. He used to lecture her about it, being America’s golden boy and all, but he doesn’t lecture her anymore. She feels like maybe he understands. Maybe he lies too sometimes. She can hear him at night, screaming and crying. She hears the way he throws things all over his bedroom. She hears cries and then she hears nothing. She asked him about it one time and he just gave her a tired smile. He didn’t throw things after that. But he still cried. It didn’t matter how thick the walls were at the Avengers tower, she could always hear the broken cries of man who lost his whole world seventy years ago.

When Cap came off the ice, the United States cheered for their fallen hero. She remembers the day perfectly. Every news channel was talking about it, pictures of his face were plastered everywhere. It was the same picture of him that was taken during the war; him standing tall in his uniform, staring right at the camera with a smile on his face.

He had been happy. Once upon a time, Archie Andrews had been happy. He had been in the middle of a war and yet, he still smiled. There was still war and death, even seventy years later. War would never leave the world and Archie followed it like the true soldier he was, but the only difference was that he didn’t smile anymore. Sometimes she wonders if maybe he wished he would have died up in that plane all those years ago. Sometimes she wishes that he would have. At least then he wouldn’t be so sad.

The tower is quiet. Reggie is out at some kind of press meeting in D.C. and he won’t be back until tonight. Betty doesn’t know whether that’s a good thing or not. The tower is quiet without him, way too quiet, and the silence between her and Archie is so thick. They’re friends, of course they are. In fact, they probably get along better with each other than anyone else in the team, but that’s the problem. They know each other too well, their secrets and nightmares, they know them all. Betty doesn’t necessarily like that. At least when Mantle’s around, him and Archie are arguing with each other so much that they don’t really have time to focus on anything else. Sometimes she thinks they argue a little too much.

“Ronnie says we should train,” Archie tells her as he holds up his phone in her direction. He’s still getting used to technology, but at least he doesn’t flinch every time his phone vibrates now.

“We always train.” She’s been training since she was a little girl. She’s tired of it. “Tell her to come over here and train with you.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks her, picking up on the slight edge to her voice. “We’re friends, Betty. You can talk to me.”

She wants to remind him that if it weren’t for all the fucked up stuff they’d endured throughout their life, that they wouldn’t have been friends at all. If Archie Andrews had never picked up the shield and gone off to fight Nazis all those years ago, they wouldn’t be friends. If Betty had never been taken away from her family to go learn how to become the world’s most lethal assassin, they wouldn’t be friends. In a perfect world, they don’t know each other. In a perfect world, they aren’t friends. In a perfect world, Betty isn’t perfect.

“I need some air,” she says suddenly as she gets up from the couch. Archie looks at her like he wants to stop her, but he won’t because deep down he understands what it’s like. He knows all about the demons and monsters that plagued their thoughts and he knows that sometimes you have to run to escape them.

She wonders if she’ll ever stop running. She wonders if she even knows how to stop anymore.

Training never stops.

Everything in the Red Room qualifies as training. It never ends. She can’t remember the last time she sat down and had a moment to herself, a moment of peace and quiet. A moment where she could be herself, the version of herself she cooked up in her mind at night when her nightmares kept her awake; the nightmares that were her reality.

She had a version of herself, happy and carefree, living anywhere else. She has a family, friends, she’s happy. She doesn’t kill people. She doesn’t know what someone’s eyes look like right before they die. She doesn’t know what it’s like to have someone beg for their life. She doesn’t know what bones sound like as they snap under her touch.

‘Eyes up.’ The lady snaps in Russian. Betty isn’t Russian. She knows that much. She doesn’t know how she got here. She doesn't know why she’s here. She doesn’t know anything.

She looks up. She obeys.

It’s the first time she sees him.

She can’t see his eyes. His long hair falls into his face, matted and a little bit greasy, as he looks down at the ground. He’s wearing a black, leather getup and he should look normal, normal enough for the Red Room at least, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t because his left arm is made completely out of metal, from his shoulder all the way to his fingertips. She’s never seen anything like it before.

‘Begin.’

It’s like a second nature, the way her body reacts to the command. She jabs her fist out and watches in complete shock as the man ducks the punch. He’s still looking down at the floor, hair still covering his face, and he doesn’t even lose his footing. She frowns and reaches out to hit him again. This time, he grabs her fist and twists her arm behind her back.

She doesn’t cry out. She learned long ago not to cry out when she was in pain. Instead, she clenches her jaw and breathes out through her nose. She digs her feet into the ground and then brings up her leg and stomps down on the man’s boot covered foot. She doubts it hurts him, but she isn’t trying to hurt him. She needs him to become unfocused, taken off guard, and it works. He must not have expected her to still be able to think or move under the grip he’d had her arm in, but that’s where he was wrong. She had endured far worse than that.

She kicks him in the side and this time he does lose his balance as he stumbles to the side. This seems to anger him as he finally looks up at her. She gasps as she looks at his eyes. They’re a deep green color, but that’s not what shocks her. It’s the way he seems to be looking at her like she’s nothing. She can tell in his stance that he’s angry with the way she one upped him, but his eyes look void of any and all emotion. It’s unnerving and for the first time in a long time, she feels scared.

He steps towards her and reaches out for her, but she dodges it and brings her fist up to punch him in the jaw. His head snaps back and she twirls around, putting herself behind him and then wraps her arms around his neck as she forces him down to the ground.

His knees barely touch the ground before he’s standing back up, reaching up with his own hands to grab at her. She uses his body as leverage and brings her legs up to wrap around his neck. As he stands up tall again, she brings her hands together and hits him in the face. She thinks that it might end there, but instead he just shakes his head and leans back, making her lose her balance. Once he feels her grip loosen, he reaches up for her and grabs her, tossing her onto the ground afterwards.

She lands back on the floor with a hard thud and pain erupts throughout her entire body. She can hear sometime telling her something, but the words sound muffled to her.

She opens her eyes and gasps in shock when she sees a metal fist coming down at her face. Without a second thought, she rolls away from the oncoming impact and flinches to herself when she hears the sound the fist makes as it hits the ground.

She jumps up to her feet and roundhouse kicks the man in the face, not giving him any time to stand up again. He goes down and as he does, Betty reaches for the knife she keeps in her thigh holster and yanks it out before jumping on top of the man and bringing her hand up to kill him.

That’s what they do here. If you can’t keep up then you die. There are no do overs. Not here, not now. The man looks at her, empty eyes and for the first time in a long time, she feels sad.

He doesn’t look scared or even worried about what’s about to happen. The action startles her so much that she hesitates.

‘Не стесняйтесь.’ The man says simply and it takes Betty by surprise as she looks down at him, shocked that he’s actually said something to her. Before she can even realize what he’s said, he grabs the knife from her hand with his metal one and flips them over, pinning her to the ground before bringing the metal of the blade to her neck, pressing down on the skin there.

The people remember.

That’s what everyone usually tells Archie when they go out places. The people remember what he did for the country; for the world, and they appreciate him. He smiles, timidly and usually forcely, but he still gives them the validation they need; that he’s here and he’s not going anywhere. For Betty, it’s not that simple. The things she’s done? The things she’s seen? People don’t know about that. They look at her and they see the woman who’s helped Captain America keep the world safe and alive recently. They thank her too, but she doesn’t smile at them and offer the hope they want. She just nods.

She wonders what they would say if they all knew the truth.

There’s a bench in Central Park that she likes to sit at sometimes when she just needs to think. It’s nice to get fresh air and watch the world carry on in front of her eyes. She wishes that she could be one of the women running with her girl friends, gossiping about whatever juvenile things their significant others did that weekend. She doesn’t have any girl friends, but even if she did, she wouldn’t be gossiping about men with them.

She has no man in her life. Not anymore.

Veronica likes to think of them as friends, but Betty can’t allow that. She can never get close to someone that way again. Archie is different. He’s seen things, he’s experienced the horrible things in the world first hand. He knows the way their lives work and how they’ll end. Veronica still thinks the world can be saved. She thinks that one day they’ll all be able to live happily ever after. Even Cheryl, the girl who watched her twin brother die right in front of her eyes, has some hope for the future. They’re both young; they’re naive.

Betty accepted her fate long ago. She’s either going to die with a bullet to the head or a knife to the throat. There’s no other option. She’ll go out fighting, it’s the only possible way.

Her life feels like it’s on standby. She spends all her time waiting. Waiting for the next mission, for the next attack. She wakes up in the morning and spends her time waiting until she can sleep so she can begin the cycle all over again. She waits for the day that it’ll all finally be over. She didn’t used to think this way. Once upon a time, she’d looked forward to the sun rising every morning. That had been a different time though, back when he was still there; when he was still alive. Sometimes if she closes her eyes and focuses hard enough, she can see his eyes looking at her. Most of the time they had still portrayed that nearly lifeless look, but sometimes, when they were alone in the quiet hours of the night, he’d look at her and he’d see her. It was in those hours that she’d see glimpses of the man he might have once been and he saw the girl she’d made up in her mind.

Her fingernails dig into the palm of her hands, drawing blood, as she remembers him. It hurts too much to think of him these days, especially because now she knows. She knows who he is and what he did. She knows his real name and the man he once was. She can’t escape his face anymore.

She remembers when she’d first found out. Archie had dragged her down to the Smithsonian. It had been right after he’d woken up from the ice, only a few months after she’d been saved by S.H.I.E.L.D.. He told her that he needed to see the exhibit, the one dedicated to him; he needed to see how people remembered him. Betty had thought it was a bad idea and she was right. It just turned out to be bad for her.

It was like seeing a ghost.

She’d never been to the exhibit before. She didn’t really have time for it. She still didn’t like being in large crowds. She couldn’t trust the people around her. As she stood closely by Archie though, she felt a little safer. People wouldn’t harm her if she was with their hero.

He wore a cap and kept his head down, avoiding the eyes of everyone at all costs. Betty didn’t have to do that. No one knew who she was. She was no one, just like she’d always been.

It was kind of unreal at first, seeing Archie’s original suit on the mannequin. She wanted to reach out and touch it. Several other mannequins surrounded him, each wearing their own getup. Archie didn’t seem to pay attention to any of them except for the one that was directly behind him to the right. The mannequin was wearing a blue jacket and Archie didn’t hesitate as he reached his hand out and touched the material gently before ripping it back, as if it had burned him.

‘It shouldn’t be up here.’

Betty looks at him in question, but he doesn’t pay any attention to her.

‘His jacket should be with someone who loves it, who loved him. It was his favorite. He wouldn’t want it hanging in some old museum.’

‘Was he your friend?’ She asks, noticing the way his eyes start to water slightly.

‘He was my brother,’ he says softly. ‘In every sense except biological, he was my brother. He was always watching out for me, little Archie Andrews who couldn’t step down from a fight. He always protected me and when he needed me the most, I couldn’t do the same for him.’

Betty doesn’t say anything, mostly because she understands what that’s like. She had tried to save someone once too. It didn’t work out that well either.

‘I should have died with him that day.’

The words startled her. Archie had never said anything like that before and she didn’t know how serious he was.

‘I wish I had died with him that day.’

‘The world needed you,’ Betty tells him, not really knowing how to comfort him. She’d never had to comfort anyone before.

‘He needed me more.’

And that’s that. Archie turns away from the costume exhibit and walks off towards the memorial. She’s never seen the memorial, but she can hear the words that are spoken out through the intercom.

‘From childhood playground to the front lines of war, Sergeant Forsythe Pendleton “Jughead” Jones III and Captain Archie Andrews were inseparable. Jones followed right along Captain America as they banded what would become known as the Howling Commandos. Jones was the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country.’

Archie stares at a moving video on a screen in the exhibit and Betty follows his gaze.

She nearly faints at what she sees.

It’s him. Winter is on the screen in front of her. She moves closer, heart rate kicking up as she takes in the sight in front of her.

Winter is there, laughing and smiling right next to Archie as he throws a hand over the redhead’s shoulders. They both look so happy and Betty feels like she can’t breathe.

His hair is a lot shorter than it had been when she’d last seen him; right before they took him away from her, before they killed him, but she would recognize his face anywhere. His eyes are full of light; of life. It’s something Betty never got to see before. It’s beautiful. It’s heartbreaking.

‘Archie…’ she whispers out, begging for the other man’s attention. It comes slowly, pained, and he has to force himself to tear his eyes away from his once best friend. ‘That’s him. That’s Winter.’

She looks back on it now and realizes that maybe she should have never said a single thing to Archie. She’d seen the way his face had gone from confused to doubtful to hopeful. They had a long talk that night. Betty told him all about the Red Room, something she’d yet to do with anyone else. She told him about how they had taken Winter away from her. She couldn’t call him Jughead. That wasn’t his name, not to her. She never knew Jughead Jones. She would never know the man in that video, happy and carefree amidst all the death and war around them.

That was the first time she’d ever seen Archie cry. He cried as he longed for the friend that Betty had only seen just a few short years ago. He cried for the man that he’d once known and he cried for the man he had become. He cried for having to relive the death all over again.

Betty didn’t cry.

She had cried when they took him from her; only a few tears and not in front of anyone else. She knew better than to make that mistake.

She wonders what happened to Winter; how he ended up where he did. How he was alive after all those years. Her mind reeled with all the unanswered questions. She didn’t voice them though, that had been Archie. Archie who had barged into S.H.I.E.D., eyes blazing as he demanded someone to tell him what was going on, what he was missing.

Conversations about Serpents and terrorists rung out into the air; a man who had helped the enemy shape the world for almost a century. Archie had tried to drink himself blind that night, but it didn’t work.

‘He was a war hero,’ Archie had said with empty eyes. It was the first time she’d ever seen him look like he was giving up. ‘He was a war hero and they just took that all away.’

Betty doesn’t know Jughead Jones, but a small part of her sometimes wishes that she did. What was he like? Was he just as strong and hard headed as Winter had been? Archie had once told her stories of how he would charm all the girls in Brooklyn. No one could resist Jughead Jones and that smirk he would give them. Betty knew a little bit about that.

Her feet were aching and her muscles were screaming out at her. The last training session had been especially hard today and all she wanted was to take a shower and rest. She knew that wouldn’t happen though. There wasn’t time for rest in the Red Room. You could rest when you were dead. That’s what Madam B. had always said.

She was allowed to shower though. The cold water helped her aching muscles and she yearned to stay under there forever.

The sound of heavy footsteps echos in the quiet restroom, the sound of the shower door being open rings out, and she knows who it is before she even opens her eyes.

It’s him.

He’s fully dressed in front of her. His hair has recently been cut, not by much though, and she can see his eyes now as he looks at her. He doesn’t try to hide them from her anymore and she doesn’t hide herself from him as she stands up tall, completely bare in front of him.

He just looks at her, tilting his head to the side as he takes in her physical appearance. She knows what he’s looking at before he even does anything. He reaches out with his hand, the flesh one not the cold metal one, and touches the bruise that’s forming on her cheekbone.

‘It’s okay,’ she tells him as she brings her hand up to hold his. The touch startles him at first just like it always does, but his shoulders soon sag in familiarity and he lets her grab his hand and pull it away slowly. ‘It’ll heal. Just like yours heal.’

Except his wounds heal abnormally fast. She’s never seen anything like it before. Things don’t hurt him the way they hurt the others. He never stays down too long, even when the beating he takes should leave him a nearly lifeless lump on the ground.

He steps closer towards her, the shower isn’t a big one and their bodies are nearly already pressed up against each other. His combat boots slosh against the water and a part of her wants to ask him to undress. She won’t though. Because he never truly does.

He lowers his head and brings their lips closer together, but not close enough that they’re touching. Betty stays completely still as she waits for his next move.

It comes soon enough. His lips are slightly chapped as they press up against hers, but they still feel better than anything else. She’s never kissed anyone before, not until he came into her life, but she can’t imagine doing it with anyone else. He kisses her deep and passionately and Betty has to grab onto his arms to stop herself from doing something stupid like fainting.

‘мое сердце.’

It’s what he always calls her, the Russian words falling off his tongue so beautifully. His accent isn’t Russian though, so she knows that he’s not a native. His accent is flat, mirroring her own and she knows that they’re from the same place. She often thinks about asking him, but she isn’t prepared for the answers she’ll get. She wonders if he even knows or if he’s like her; confused and lost.

‘Don’t be gentle,’ she tells him. He looks at her, eyes a bit nervous, but she just nods. Winter knows what she needs. He always knows what she needs.

He puts his hands on the back of her thighs and picks her up in one swift motion. She gasps out in surprise and wraps her legs around his waist to stop herself from falling, even though she knows he’d never let her fall.

His metal hand is cold against her skin but it feels so good, a stark contrast to the warmth of his flesh hand on her other thigh. He digs his fingers into her thighs, like he can’t get enough of them, and she hisses out at the pain of it. It feels good against the soreness of the muscles there and he must see that because he digs them in a little deeper.

Betty groans out before wrapping her arms around his neck and bringing his face down to hers, pressing their lips together in a kiss that is more teeth than it is anything else. It’s a contrast to the one they shared earlier, but it’s just what she needs right now. He bites at her lip a bit harshly before pulling away and licking at the spot, trying to soothe it over.

She knows they don’t have enough time. They never have enough time. She dreams of a day when it’ll be just them, no more Red Room and no more handlers. She dreams of a day when they can lay together in a bed that’s bigger than twin sized; when they can sleep in until noon and she can wake up before him, bring him breakfast in bed and then waste the day away together.

But for now they have a cramped shower and that has to be good enough for them.

He unzips his pants quickly, using only one hand and Betty tosses her head back against the wall behind her. She wishes they could savor this moment.

He presses himself into her gently and she moans out at the feeling of him inside of her. No matter how many times they do this, she never gets used to the way he feels inside of her. She feels full and complete, like she wants them to stay in this position forever. It’s too much and not enough at the same time.

He begins a steady pace, pushing his hips into hers gently as she bounces up and down in his arms. The water cascades around them and for a moment, she lets herself think that they’re anywhere else but here.

‘Harder,’ she pants out. He does as she asks, snapping his hips into her with a little more force. It allows him to slide deeper into her and Betty lets her head fall back as her eyes all but roll to the back of her head. It’s fast and dirty and it’s everything she’s ever wanted, everything she’s ever needed.

It doesn’t take long before Winter comes apart completely inside of her. He always comes inside of her; there’s no reason not to, not after the graduation ceremony.

He presses their foreheads together, both of them are panting lightly.

‘I wish we could stay here forever, Elizabeth. If it weren’t for you, I would have lost myself long ago.’

The words are spoken so lightly by him that she nearly misses them. It’s not like him to be so sentimental and she’s taken off guard for a moment before she smiles.

‘I love you.’ She tells him, because she does. She’s never loved anyone before, but she loves the broken man in front of her.

He looks at her a bit unsure at first before he presses a soft kiss to her forehead.

‘Вы мое сердце.’

You are my heart.

That’s what he had told her. He hadn’t said he loved her, but he didn’t need to. She knew he did. They both knew that what he told her meant more than anything else. She was his whole heart, just as he was hers. They didn’t make sense. They were two machines, created by people more dangerous than they could ever be, built to create chaos and leave destruction whenever they went. They had both been taught that they could never love, never be normal, but yet she found love and the closest thing to normal that she could and she found it wrapped up in him.

Her phone starts to buzz rapidly in her pocket, letting her know that it’s one of the Avengers trying to get ahold of her. She doesn’t know how she feels about being one of the “good guys” now, but she’ll take what she can get.

Archie’s number flashes on the screen at her. The words ‘TOWER NOW. 911’ screaming back at her. She gets up from her spot on the bench and walks over to the motorcycle she’d brought to the park with her. Throwing a leg over it, she starts it up and begins to dash through all of the traffic, ignoring the honks she receives in retaliation.

“Archie!” She yells as she walks into the tower. He’s pacing back and forth across the floor, suit on and shield across his back. “What’s going on?”

“There’s been a breach over at S.H.I.E.L.D. Ronnie says that she thinks some people have been undercover as Serpents this entire time. We need to get down there right now.”

“I could have met you there!” Betty yells at him, aware that they’re now wasting time.

“You’re going like that?” He looks down at her clothes. She’s wearing a pair of tight black jeans and high heeled boots, a black top and a leather jacket. Not exactly fighting clothes, but they don’t call her Black Widow for nothing. She’s fought in high heels before. They’re her favorite accessory. “This might be a fight, Betty.”

“Things have been a little dull around here,” she says with a slight smirk.

Archie just nods before making his way towards the elevator. “We’re taking the motorcycle.”

Traffic is bad. Archie swerves through it as much as he can, but S.H.I.E.L.D. is across the city from them and they don’t really have much time. They’re on the highway right now and Betty is about to just run the rest of the way.

It comes suddenly and out of nowhere when the bike randomly stalls in the middle of the highway.

“What the hell?” Archie says to himself. Betty is just about to yell at him for forgetting to fuel up when she looks up and stops.

A man stands at the end of the bridge directly across from them. He’s covered completely head to toe in black. She can’t see an inch of skin on him, a black leather getup covers his entire torso and arms, black gloves even rest on his hands, and his face is covered with a black mask and eye goggles. The only thing she can see is long dark hair, nearly black, that fans out around his face. He stands tall, unmoving, and Betty stands up from the bike.

“We have company,” Betty tells Archie, who looks up and follows her gaze with his own curious one.

“Who…” before he can say anything else, the man picks up his arms and Betty and Archie see the large gun he’d been holding.

“Duck!” She yells out, grabbing Archie and throwing them both onto the ground just as the man starts shooting the gun. “Who the fuck is that?”

“I don’t know!” Archie yells at her, looking at her incredulously. “How the fuck should I know?”

The man starts walking towards them, stopping traffic as he gets in the way of the other pedestrians. People begin to get out of their cars and run off of the highway and Betty almost wants to do the same.

“We got more company,” Archie says and points behind them. Betty turns around and sees three more men, dressed exactly like the other one and curses to herself.

“We can’t outrun them all.”

“We can try.” Archie stands up and pulls his shield off his back, holding it in front of them as the men start shooting at them. “I got them! Can you take care of the other one?”

She only has one gun and a knife on her, but it’s more than enough. She nods towards Archie and turns to face the man. He aims the gun towards her as he moves closer but before he can shoot, Betty swings her legs over the edge of the railing and jumps off the highway, landing on an abandoned car underneath them. A sharp pain runs through her legs, but she doesn’t pay any mind to it. She jumps off of the car and turns around just in time to see the man follow her lead as he lands on the car too.

He struts down the hood of the car and Betty falters slightly as she watches him. Something about him seems so familiar and she gets lost in the way he moves so gracefully.

He seems confused as he looks around for her and that’s when Betty realizes that she’s supposed to be “taking care of him”. She runs up behind him and kicks him square in the back, making him lose his footing as he stumbles forward. His grip on the gun loosens, but he doesn’t drop it completely.

He turns around and immediately begins shooting but Betty’s already circled her way around him. She doesn’t want to kill him. She made a pact with herself long ago that she would never kill again unless completely necessary, but she needs to unarm him now or else that’s all going to be for nothing.

Doing what she does best, she runs and jumps up, using the man’s body and her strength to climb up and wrap her legs around his neck. It’s her signature move that’s always been able to knock Archie off his feet and it seems to do the same to the man as he finally drops his gun in surprise.

Betty pulls out the wire that she keeps in her jacket pocket and wraps it around the man’s neck, trying to cut off his air supply. If she can get him to pass out then that could make this a lot easier.

He brings his hands up and tries to pull her arms away, but her grip on him is way too tight. She watches as he begins to go slack and she sighs in relief.

Her relief is short lived when she’s suddenly thrown off of his back and throttled across the street. She lands roughly on the gravel and rolls a few times before finally coming to a stop. She groans out in pain as she tries to get to her feet again.

The man is talking to someone else, instructing them to do something, but Betty can’t understand a word they’re saying.

The man’s attention turns back to her and she watches in fear as he begins to stalk over to her. There’s no way she’s going to be able to fight him off right now. Her head feels fuzzy from the landing and she can’t even see him properly. He grabs a knife out of his thigh holster and twirls it around in his hand menacingly.

Betty shuts her eyes tightly and waits. If she’s going to die then she’d rather not watch it happen.

She waits but nothing happens. She hears a deep grunt and opens her eyes to see that the man is staggering backwards, an arrow through his shoulder. Betty whirls around, knowing exactly who those arrows belong to.

Veronica Lodge stands on top of the railing of the highway. Bow and arrow ready as she looks down at Betty.

“You good?” She yells out.

Betty nods, her head finally clearing up. “I got him! Go help Archie!”

Veronica nods and Betty turns her attention back towards the man. She watches in horror as he rips the arrow out of himself before snapping his head up. She can’t see his eyes and that makes everything so much scarier. She has no idea what he looks like and it makes her nervous. She feels like she’s fighting blindly.

She runs up to man, knowing there’s no other way to get around him. She throws her fist out, trying to land a punch to his stomach but he jumps back and grabs her arm, swinging her around over him before tossing her to the ground again. This time though, she jumps back up quickly as she ignores the pain in her back. He tries to punch her but she dodges it and elbows him in the back hard, causing him to fall forward onto his knees.

She roundhouse kicks him and watches as he falls into the ground face first. Just as she’s about to reach for her gun, he flips over and swings his legs out, bringing her down with him. She grunts as she hits the cement again but manages to get her knife out of her thigh holster.

Just as the man crouches over her, she picks up the knife and makes to stab him in the shoulder.

Before she can, he reaches out and grabs it like it’s nothing before tossing it off to the side. Betty gasps and looks at him in alarm.

Who the hell was she fighting?

They begin to throw punches left and right once she stands up. She hasn’t fought like this in a while and for some reason it takes her back to the Red Room, to all the training she had to endure. She was groomed to become the perfect killer and she was. She was the best of the best and right now she could feel it in the way she dodged and ducked every single hit the man was aiming at her.

“Betty!” She hears Archie yells from behind her. “Duck!”

She does as he asks and the man loses his balance as his hand swings out and hits the air. Archie throws his shield forward and it takes the man off guard as it hits him straight in the chest, making him roll backwards onto the gravel.

The black mask he’d been wearing falls off and Betty looks at it in wonder. Her heart is beating rapidly in her chest as she watches the man begin to stand up. His hand goes up to his face and he takes off the goggles, letting them fall to the ground besides him.

Archie jogs up to her, standing by her side as the both of them watch the man slowly turn around, waiting to see who had been behind the mask the entire time.

Finally, he faces them and Betty’s entire world stops.

Green eyes stare back at her; empty, lifeless, but familiar. A face she’d spent so many years trying to forget is looking back at her.

“Jughead?” Archie gasps out.

Betty takes a step forward and then two more before Archie reaches out and grabs her hand, stopping her. She pulls her hand out of his, but stays put. The man seems confused by the whole thing as he looks at them with wide, frightened eyes. She’s looking at him with broken eyes; eyes that wished they were seeing anything else. She can’t go through this again. She can’t.

But he’s here. He’s right in front of her.

“Winter?”

The man tilts his head. “Who the hell is Winter?”

#bughead fanfiction

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