24

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Things are missing around the Avengers' compound and a newly returned Bucky is acting weirder than normal...Steve and Sam go to investigate and discover more than they bargained for.

Content: 18+ for language and suggestion of Hydra violence/torture/experimentation, omegaverse themes including alpha & omega, suggestion of pregnancy/pups, wolf shifting Rated F for Fluff and G for good friends

Give Me Shelter, For My Heart

Nesting Instincts

I'm Lost and I'm Found and I'm Hungry

[janicekao]

Fool's Gold

Pairing: Lorenzo Zurzolo x Black OC Summary: Heartbroken a night from her wedding day, Princess Souline finds relief in the arms of her mute and masked Jester. Author’s Note: Inspired by the Princess x Knight and Princess x Jester Tiktok trend. Warnings: Jester!Lorenzo, mute!Lorenzo, mime!Lorenzo, masked!Lorenzo, heartbroken!Lorenzo, gentle!Lorenzo, sweetheart!Lorenzo, Princess!OC, virgin!OC, heartbroken!OC, suicidal!OC, angry!OC, defiant!OC, Midieval aesthetic, old English attempt lol, jesterXprincess, ultimatums, sappy romance, friends to lovers, smutty, kinky, tons of kissing, head fem receiving, unprotected PnV, rough sex, cream pie, Princess is OVERLY GOING but I can't blame her, full short story,etc. 5k words Wattpad link -------------------------

Panic fled through the kingdom on the twenty-fifth birthday of Princess Souline Ungata. Most would describe her as a difficult girl, especially her parents, the King and Queen of Meclandor who have been trying to marry her off since the very first time she bled.

For the last decade, Princes from all over have come to the castle each spring to court the Princess. They come to impress the royal family, pay the dowry, and hope to take their new wife to their homeland where together they will rule. Yet, each time that one is present here in Meclandor, Princess Souline makes sure to do her very best to put a bad taste in their mouths and send them on their way.

She has planned to continue rejecting all men regardless of their royal statuses, until she finds her one true love. But, after what feels like an eternity— she isn't sure that true love actually exists. Since aged to twenty-five, the Kingdom has not known any rest. Treated as if she had turned elderly or as if her ovaries were shriveling up, not even her handmaidens will give her rest over this matter.

"It's not good to wait this long Your Grace.For Princes need young spry women to reproduce with. You have a duty for your Kingdom, Princess Souline."

Their words never surprise her anymore. Her servants hint at it all day long— from sun up, horse riding, breakfast, book keeping in the library, lunch, Harp rehearsal, dinner, and even as they tuck her in at night... all on the request of her parents who continue to worry about the future of their royal lineage. In the most recent months, the issue has made the Princess ill to her soul. Unable to take much more, she finally has given in— now accepting the hand of an Egyptian Prince, Josiah Tombuk.

Prince Josiah fits the bill of what a royal Prince should appear to be... charming, handsome, wealthy in a way that let him pay the dowry times ten— but it is his spirit that troubles Princess Souline the most. Each of their encounters, three month's worth of courtship— Prince Josiah has very little conversation for his fiancé and tends to only examine her, picking at her flaws as if she were just his accessory. At first, Souline thought that she could handle it. That they were only strangers who needed a chance to let love grow in between them and soon bountiful conversation would blossom. She relied heavily upon the thought that committing to this marriage would make her parents proud, put all of Meclandor at ease, and finally put an end to the constant gossip that includes her name.

With good intentions in her heart, the Princess is willing to do what it takes to make things right, even if it pains her. However, tonight a final straw has been pulled...

A night before their wedding, Prince Josiah has found it important to critique his soon to be wife as she is fitted for her wedding gown. Not only is it forbidden to see a bride in her gown before the wedding ceremony, but the Prince has the nerve to find fault with the size of her waist. "A tighter corset— or three. As we stand before all of Meclandor, reciting our vows, my hands should be able to grasp completely around her waist like a glass of ale."

The handmaidens tighten each string of the corset, pulling the lines until they break out into a full sweat.

Souline gasps, "I have bones there! I am not made of floured dough, are you trying to break a rib?!" The handmaidens decide to continue tightening anyway, even bringing a second corset from the wardrobe...

The Princess now realizes what would become of life as this man's Queen... Never again would she have a voice— her opinion even now doesn't matter to the handmaidens who have practically raised her and have been a comfort to her since she was just a girl. How worse can this truly get? Whatever Prince Josiah wishes, it seems to be the entire world's command...

Souline breaks free.

Gasps ring out as the girl who is supposed to be as still and complying as a corpse tears away from all who have tugged at her.

The opal engagement ring is taken from her hand and tossed in the smug face of the Egyptian Prince. "If you wish to be able to cuff the measurement of my waist, perhaps your hands should not be as puny and pathetic as your cock!" Souline spits towards the ground, rushing past him as the Prince shouts for the Knights in armor to chase closely behind.

Born and raised in the castle of Meclandor, the Princess knows this five-hundred-year old building like the back of her hand. As the guards charge for her, she knows just where to slip away to...

Barefoot and unable to breathe in overly tightened garment, Souline reaches the secret corridor that has become her safety net ever since a child. A knob-less panel of the library's wall that pushes open from only a touch, a way to the tallest tower of the castle that all assume was only built for decorative purposes, and has no entryway. Souline's safety haven from a life of feeling so extremely lonesome.

———

Years worth of dust fill every corner of the stained-glass tower, yet, the Princess does not care as she weeps over the trouble that she has caused.

Her mind replays every possible scenario of what will happen if she returns to the throne-room where surely her father, the King, is being as apologetic as possible.

Could these people harm her family? Will she be forced to still marry this man, and now face his hatred and abuse for the rest of her life? Or, will all of Meclandor's patience run out for her, and it comes to a vote that she is to be beheaded?! So many questions arise... Yet, no answers seem to follow.

She contemplates committing suicide, figuring that it would be fitting to let the ever-so-complicated Princess Souline's body rot in a place where it could take years to be found... It is either this, or let the corset wrapped around her body slowly suffocate her to death.

In the midst of her tears and self pity, the door quietly creeks open. She doesn't fear the presence of this someone, for she knows there is only one other person in the entire world who knows of this place... The castle's mute and masked Jester.

"Go away Fool." Her voice is muffled by sobs. "Your service would be of no help."

Being Souline's only friend, it pains the nameless Jester to be called 'Fool'.Although it is only another title for his position here, Princess Souline has never dared to refer to him as such.

The Jester refuses to let it bother him... After years of the castle's abuse, he has grown a thick enough skin to bear it... Also, if his sweet Princess Souline has said something as such, it only means that there is an issue that has her truly bothered— this issue being far more important to him than his own feelings.

The Jester begins to silently mime what seems to be a make-believe stomach ache... The dramatic swaying of his body catches Souline's attention as her red tear stained eyes lift from the ancient cushions of the window's loveseat. Tossing and turning as the floorboards squeak beneath his shoes, the Jester ends the show with a tumble onto his back, lying at Souline's feet as he pretends to have died.

The bells on each peak of his Jester's cap chime as he lands the flip flat against the floor, causing the Princess to break into giggle.

It's nice to see her happiness again, even if only for a moment. "Forgive me, Jester." She sniffs back a tear, "I should've never referred to you as a Fool. I have always had such high regard for your entertainment. Not only that, but you are my dearest companion, the only soul who knew where to find me— the only soul to care if I were to be found."

She sighs. Her delicate hand lightly brushes away a floating feather and a speck of dust that has landed on his cap. Easing from the floor, the quiet Jester crouches to the height of her sitting. He notices her tears— sharing the same consideration as he wipes them away with his gloved hand.

Souline takes in the act of affection with great thanks. Not used to such kindness, unless from him, she even nuzzles the side of her face into the crook of his palm. "I remember the day you were sentenced here." She begins. "I was just a girl, watching the sentencing from the throne-room... You weren't much older than I was, perhaps had me by three or four years. My father sentenced you to life as a Jester for stealing fish from the harbor ports, said that he would only spare your life because you committed a crime that was unselfish— you were impoverished and only trying to care for your family. Before you were costumed and masked, I only saw the back of your head. An olive-toned neck, and rich brunette strands that came to a soft curl... I remember the day that you came into my life, I'll never forget it."

Wanting to feel more of him, the Princess ungloves his hand... Revealing part of the man who she's never seen without costume. "A Jester who isn't allowed to even tell a riddle. What a pity. Tell me, did my father take your tongue that day?"

He refuses, head shaking 'no' in response. Instead of taking his tongue, the Mad King did even worse, he let the Jester keep it— daring him to ever speak again and to expect the cruelest of deaths if he were to ever recite a word again... a lifelong punishment for a boy who only wished to keep his family fed.

Souline opens his hand... exposing handsomely long digits as the soft pucker of her lips press at the beds of his fingertips.

She lightly kisses each tip of his finger. The act is painfully stirring and becomes slow torture although the Princess only wishes to show her gratitude. The Jester inhales deeply, trembling in breath as he exhales out.

"Your skill is incredible, the way that you have cheered me up for so long, and don't even speak a word..." Her gentle pout parts just enough to press his thumb against her tongue, causing the Jester to quake as the Princess's chocolate stare refuses to breakaway from his. "I'd like to hear your voice. Would you speak to me, please?"

Taking his hand back from the Princess's sensual touch, he refuses with a vastly shaken head.

"After all of these years, you do not trust me?" Nearly offended, the Princess stands as the Jester does the same. Slowly he backs away, creating space between them as he reaches for the stick of chalk and board tied to his wrist. "Why do you want to hear it?" He writes.

She scoffs. "So I can stop dreaming about it at night and finally hear it for myself. Please, just once?"

Again, the Jester refuses. Souline calms to a more relaxed request. "Fine then. At least remove your hat and your mask." She watches the man before her freeze— soon to deny her once again.

"Your appearance cannot frighten me, Jester." The Princess assures, soon pressing her hand to his quickened heartbeat. "It is what's been in here all this time, that has always been a friend to me."

. . .

The Jester trembles an inch away from whom his heart has always yearned for. His other glove hits the ground, revealing another handsome hand. He then reaches towards his hat and mask, taking them off as asked to in slow and unsure movements.

Souline's eyes widen. She takes a step backwards at such shock, nearly falling backwards onto the cushions as the Jester quickly catches her waist in time. He would never complain about the inches below her bust, instead he holds her hourglass figure as if she were made of the finest gold the world could offer.

"What a face." Stunned by thick eyebrows, strikingly blue hunter eyes, plush lips, and a unique beauty mark beneath his left eye— Souline has a hard time believing the perfection that is looking down upon her. "Such a shame to hide it for so long behind a mask."

She raises her hand, curious to touch the details of such a handsome face, but the Jester disapproves with a separating step away.

Bowing gracefully, he takes a rose from his baggy costume made with large pockets to collect his every prop. On one knee, the rose is presented to her— his eyes search the floor frantically, ready to evacuate as soon as he is able to grab for his cap and mask again.

Souline takes the flower. She smells it gently, although it pains her that even the Jester is in a hurry to leave her by her lonesome.

"I am to marry tomorrow." The Princess admits. "I may have made a complete imbecile out of myself today, but something tells me— this ceremony will still continue come 'morrow. I am to become Queen of a land that I have never known, journey back to Egypt with this complete stranger, and bear his children... As much as I enjoy my peace, and your comfort... Tomorrow I am to begin a life with never a second alone, without my favorite Jester, and soon be one with child— fathered by a man that I do not love..."

Used to being able to hide his sorrows behind his mask, the Jester soon feels the hot trail of tears rolling down his cheeks.

As if a heart attack were aiming to steal her from this life, Souline's spirit shatters at the sight of his despair. "Tell me, Jester." Her voice cracks within the coming tears."Is this part of your act?"

It wouldn't feel right to lie to her. The Jester shakes his head 'no', his tears could never be part of one of his acts, instead, they are evidence of his heartache. Proof of his desolation if Souline is to leave this castle forever.

The Jester takes hold of her fingers, lifting her hand to his lips as he presses a kiss on the back of her knuckles. The gesture is his way of saying goodbye, soon turning from her gaze and preparing to venture back towards the castle where his only job is to entertain.

Anger erupts from the Princess. Souline rushes past the Jester, barricading the old wooden doors with her body. "Speak to me." She demands. "I'll know no peace without you— without knowing your voice, your—your name is what I meant!"

He exhales as grief aches within his bones. He reaches for his chalkboard, but the Princess won't allow another written message. Souline grabs hold of his board and stick of chalk— stomping the chalk to dust, and cracking the board in half over her knee.

The Jester panics... For he knows that if this shared passion continues to surface, only death will await him. He pushes past her, ignoring her fists that bang against his taut body in constant plead. "Jester, please! I beg you!"

The struggle becomes heavier. He knows that all six-feet of him could easily overpower the Princess, but instead— he gives in to her. If punches and tearing at his costume will keep her sane, then let him be her punching bag until she is well again. Souline pins the Jester against cushions as a cloud of dust swarms the air. Wrath begins to pour from her lips— words growling with ferocity. "Damn you! If you don't do as I ask, I will do far worse than what you believe the King will do if your voice is ever to be heard. Speak Jester! And let it not be wasted on foolishness."

. . .

With eyes glassed over from swelling tears, the Jester parts his handsomely plush lips to speak for the first time in years... The air that forces its way out of his lungs is painful and his voice is extremely hoarse. The young man can't even recall the last sentence he had ever uttered, that's how long it has been. But, as the Princess requested, he is sure to make this first sentence count— wasted not on foolishness. "I love you, Princess."

They share the same reaction, eyes widened in complete shock. The Princess pauses in disbelief, awed at the fact that her lifelong crush on the Jester had not been one-sided after all. The Jester's shock comes from the sound of power that has exited him— no longer the sheepish voice he halfway remembers when he was sentenced here at only the age of twelve.

His tone becomes even stronger— the kind of voice that could split the Earth, the voice of a General that would march a thousand soldiers. It begins to feel incredible for the Jester as he continues to use it— no longer feeling the tightness in his throat from a voice that has been forced to stay hidden. "But, what is there to do with such a feeling, when I hold no position but being your entertainment?"

She watches his lips as if she could visibly see every word that spills from them. He becomes her favorite sound, although she must mute him once again as their lips crash amongst each other...

Their moans throughout this embrace plays a tune of long awaited devotion. "I won't hear any of that. What is your name, man?" Her breathy pause ends with more tongue tangling.

"You mustn't." The Jester's costume begins to tighten as he grows with improper fervor.

"I must." Souline's fingertips run along the flesh of his chiseled abdomen as his top is torn from over his head. "Answer me."

"Lorenzo—" He begins in stutter, soon strengthening in pride as he explains the man he once was before becoming a permanent clown. "—Zurzolo, proud son of a seamstress and blacksmith. Honored to be entertainment for Princess Souline Ungata." Her smile melts Lorenzo's heart, she mews into a kiss as he pronounces her name— utter infatuation consuming them both.

"The dress." She demands. "And this bloody goddamned corset!"

Her wedding gown comes off. Next, he quickly unties Souline's corset and she is able to breathe once again. Her body is now cloaked in thin, nearly-transparent fabric. A silk night-slip being the only thing her glorious bronze skin hides behind.

"Heavens, take this off me." Again, she requires his help to unwrap her like a gift.

Wanting terribly to feel the soft flesh of the Princess, he realizes just how intoxicating the feeling of lust can make one. Before they continue, he must remind her of what exactly she is doing. "Princess! I cannot. There is no security in what you believe that you feel for me... I am only a jester, a life that belongs to the castle."

"I care not of such little things." She admits. "My love for you is much greater. Now, Say it again, please?"

"That I love you?" He questions. "Hasn't this been something already known?"

"I had only hoped.—" Souline becomes flush against his lap, grinding against his hardening manhood and making the gentleman below her weaker by the second. "—Body wanting for you day and night, even if only the memory of the back of your head, and the honor of our time spent together."

Cupping the back of her neck, the Jester closes his eyes and pulls her back into their continued tongue kiss. Foolish need possesses him to swiftly rid of her nightdress— now staring at a bare body that takes his breath away. Every curve, droop, and mark is perfectly placed on Souline's body. Lorenzo would never admit to fantasizing about how the Princess looked unclothed, but what he will say is that he never expected this level of magnificence.

Gazing at the young woman from the top of her thick black coils down to the same soft hairs that press against him— hairs of jet ink, silk that grace her dampening flower. "Have mercy, Princess."

"Say something else to me." She moans in constant hip bucking, "really anything."

Impatience creeps in as his mouth begins to salivate at her image. "These lips— they do more than just speak."

A gentle shove backwards leaves the Princess winded, now lying on her back as her Jester lowers himself between her thighs. He starts with an ever so soft kiss on her belly, easing towards each thigh as he kisses one and bites the other. Lorenzo watches with sanpaku soul claiming eyes, disappearing further as his nose dives into the heat of her wanton mound.

Souline shouts out loud, unknown to the feeling of a kiss somewhere so intimate. Her back arches and suddenly her fingertips seep into his locks of brown curls. His tongue laps at the mess of fervor from her tasty cunt, gulping at her nectar as if he had just encountered the fountain of youth.

Thick thighs attempt to crash against his ears, but Lorenzo refuses her attempt at escaping as he double downs with a dimpling grip against each thigh.

Her panicked breathing intensifies as what feels like lightning begins to creep through her body. Souline's toes curl and lock into place as Lorenzo focuses on the pulse of her needy pearl. His lewd suckling here is maddening, close to causing the Princess pain yet her fist tightens against his strands of hair to keep him precisely just where he is at. Sure to make a mess on herself, the Jester cares not— only wishing to watch Souline come completely undone.

Short sighted as her body quakes, a gush of pleasure soaks down his chin. "What have you done to me, Jester?" Dissolving into the cushions from the release of a devilish coil springing free in her belly, the aftershocks leaves Her Grace flushed a bright Scarlett with prickling goosebumps on every inch of her skin. "I wish to make you feel the same." Souline lifts from her position— weak but determined, on a mission to pleasure him just as much.

Her fingers undo the string of his trousers, revealing the bountiful cock that she had rubbed against and made stand so eagerly up his chiseled abdomen. Her hand fastens around the thick width of him— fingers feeling every indentation of his veiny cock and the pulse of its bulbous tip. She positions herself once again over his lap, prepared to take every inch of him as Lorenzo takes her virginity this eve. She winces at the stretch of fitting his girth inside of her, biting her lip to calm herself as she becomes flush with his heavy sack.

The Jester's eyes roll back into his skull, deafened from the feeling of entering her warmth. Prepped and spoiled, this royal pussy invites him in eagerly— warm and welcoming as she begins to rock her hips.

His arms reach beneath her, aiding the sex with his strength as he helps Souline drive up and down— spearing herself upon his cock. His jaw lolls open at such glorious sight, blood pumping through his body as his pulse pounds through his ears.

"Do I make you feel good, Lorenzo?" Her arms outstretch like the wings of a dove, never feeling so very free in her entire life. "Does your Princess please you?"

Her walls clench against his fullness, drawing a lewd pathetic groan from the depths of his throat. "Heavens yes, Princess. You are absolutely divine. Keep doing that."

Souline continues to fuck the Jester absolutely dumb. Continuing to hear the slam of her flesh against his, the Princess leans over to catch another of his exasperated tongue kisses. She can taste her own sweet pleasures as her tongue swirls against his teeth, the thought of it alone makes her pussy writhe as it resumes being obliterated by Lorenzo's unforgiving upward thrusts. "Sss'ah!!! Yes!!!" She squeals in full praise. "Gods, yes!!!"

The Jester's arms wrap around his lover, stilling the weight of her against his crotch as his eyebrows furrow into a cinched wrinkle. "Mm'fucking hell..."As if his only purpose in life was to paint her insides with his cream, Lorenzo releases his pent up desire into the very precipice of the Princess's addictive pit. Her eyes widen in shock... Souline's nails dig into the tense muscles of his shoulders, unfamiliar with every jolt of being pumped with a man's hot seed.

Lorenzo's head spins... Guilt begins to set in as his erection continues to stand down... Not only did the Fool take the Princess's maidenhead, but he has filled her with the beginnings of being with child. "I apologize, Your Grace, for this defilement— what have I done?" Reality hits him as he is reminded of what will happen if they are found coming from this secret place together. "Hear me when I say I can make this right." Sweat drips from a handsome curl against his forehead. "The handmaidens, they spend much time gossiping— I have heard about a special tea used after their evenings spent with the knights of the castle. A tea that will rid of a man's mishap if needed be. Souline, please forgive me."

Drained against the cushions, her brown eyes have yet to return from blown pupils. She places her hand on her belly, feeling the sweet soreness of being taken by man. "We should not count our hens before they hatch, Jester. Know that whatever may come of this night, I find it far from error." Coming up from lying down, Souline calms his worry with a shared press to each other's forehead. "The only defilement here is the cruelty of having your Princess wait for you this long."

Lorenzo's eyes tighten shut, demonizing thoughts ruining their moment together as he holds back tears. He is a man of no means— he has no riches and is serving a sentence for life as a clown. He feels that in society, he simply cannot provide. Although his thoughts are rational, a life without the Princess is a life not worth living at all.

"Can we stay up here forever?"Her whisper is a gentle breeze across his lips.

"I'm afraid not, Princess." The night comes to a close painful end as the quiet air in the tower consumes them. She must now go back to being Princess, and he must go back to being her mute Jester.

Tired of Meclandor choosing her future for her, the Princess takes off her crown— sacrificing her royalty for love. She tosses the tiara to the ground as the jewels and heavy gold ping and circle until it falls vastly in place— glimmering under the glow of moonlight. "I will not marry tomorrow... If made to, I'll put blade through my own heart. I am to live a life with you or not one at all. We have only the night, Lorenzo. To free us both, we must plan our great escape."

Wrapping the stubborn beauty in his embrace, a tear still manages to leak down the definition of Lorenzo's handsome bone structure. "Foolish, foolish girl."

"A Fool for you." Souline's giggle is playful and full of hope for their future together.

"Aye—" He agrees with laughter, placing his costume cap on her head as the bells chime a silly jingle. "—the prettiest Jester I've ever seen."

They kiss once, then twice, and finally hold onto the third liplock for a few magical seconds more. "Come my love." Lorenzo reaches for Souline's hand, easing her nightdress back over her bare body along with a dusty old cloak around her shoulders. "Tell me, how strong are these curtains?"

Frowning in confusion as Lorenzo hurries and ties his trousers back on, she glances at the lengthy burgundy curtains that haven't been changed she's sure since the castle was built. "Well— they are old." The Princess tugs on them, watching the dust ripple away from the twenty-feet curtains that guard the massive stained-glass windows. "But, far from cheaply made... Strong, I'd assume. Why?"

Using all of his strength, he opens the rusted window latch as the chilly wind of the night blows by them. The Princess tightens the cloak around her neck for warmth, however, Lorenzo's thoughts race against time as he peers across yonder towards the horse stables... The evening is quiet, and if they just can get to Souline's noble steed without witnesses— they would have all that they need to make thine perfect escape.

He yanks the curtain from its rod as the heavy fabric comes tumbling down...

Lorenzo takes another peak out of the tower, looking down at a cliff more than a hundred feet beneath them. A cliff that could send them to their deaths if they make a wrong step and fall into the crashing waves of the ocean surrounding the back of the castle. "Princess." He begins... "Can you climb?"

[sweetoothgirl]

Small Batch Brownies

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Give Me Shelter, For My Heart | Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader | One Shot? 3k

Things are missing around the Avengers' compound and a newly returned Bucky is acting weirder than normal...Steve and Sam go to investigate and discover more than they bargained for.

Warnings: 18+ for language and suggestion of Hydra violence/torture/experimentation, omegaverse themes including alpha & omega, suggestion of pregnancy/pups, wolf shifting Rated F for Fluff and G for good friends

Challenges & Prompts: @buckybarnesevents Alpha Bucky April with extra prompts - word count, nesting, purring, beta characters, (I'll let mods decide if this hits the breeding/baby fever prompt). And @fandom-free-bingo 'forehead kisses'

Graphic by me and Canva, dividers by @firefly-graphics & @reveriesources

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes | Part 2

“Hmm,” Steve looked around the supply room, surveying the gaps and empty shelves, normally well stocked with blankets and provisions. It was the third time this week he’d found himself at a loss, not just for words but his things too. Everything seemed to be going missing. 

First it was a few plates and mugs from the galley kitchen by his office, then it’d been the lunch he’d left for him and Bucky in the fridge. Last night he’d gone into Bucky’s room to make sure he was okay and found the man sleeping on a bare mattress, all the sheets, pillows and blankets were gone and the newly revived Bucky refused to explain what had happened to them or even acknowledge that there was anything wrong at all. He hadn’t even addressed that fact that the window was wide open and it looked as if he was sleeping in his shoes. 

Which brought Steve’s thoughts to the man himself. Bucky had been so odd since he’d returned. For a day or two, he’d been something like his old self, despite the awful situation they found themselves in, he’d joked with Steve and reminisced with the few memories he had. They’d enjoyed a beer together and he’d even met with Tony during their mediation and patched things up. 

Then, they’d all climbed onto the jet and he’d become distant, pacing like a caged animal until they’d landed. As soon as the doors were open he’d vanished for forty-eight hours and sent the entire compound into mayhem before strolling back in as if nothing had happened, bruised and covered in blood. Judging by the bandages he sported later that day, his cuts and bruises spread under his shirt and trousers too. 

Steve knew that he’d changed during his time with Hyrda, back in the 30s they’d both been betas, happy to plod along ignoring the madness of the few alpha’s in Brooklyn. It had been a rare thing then, to be an alpha, now they were considered a dying breed, so when Bruce’s tests had revealed that Bucky was an alpha now, they’d tried to take it in their stride that he might go off on his own sometimes, especially since omegas were even rarer. But there was still so much they didn’t know, so much to unpack and discover about the Bucky they’d rescued, and Steve was so desperate to spend time getting to know this new man that all the time apart was making him worry. 

“You okay?” Sam asked from the doorway, leaning in to hand Steve a hot cup of coffee. 

“Just doing a stock check.” 

“He take something else?” Sam stepped into the small room, lined with shelves and shelves of tents, camping stoves, parachutes, it seemed to go on and on. The bare grey shelves where stock was missing was stark against the white washed walls. 

“He?” 

“Barnes,” Sam sipped his coffee, matter of fact, and Steve confronted the worry that had been plaguing him. 

“It’s Bucky, isn’t it?” Steve dropped his head heavily and Sam patted him on the back, still sipping his drink. 

“Sorry man, told you, he’s not right yet. He’s not hurting anyone though, if he hates his bedding, who cares, if he hates your lunches, who could blame him.” 

Sam sidestepped Steve’s halfhearted swipe with a grin on his face. 

“But what’s he doing with it, Sam? Where’s it all going?” 

“Hell, I don’t know, have you asked him?” Sam raised his eyebrows. 

Had Steve asked his best friend, who flinched at his touch and shied away from any conversations? Bucky who vanished for hours at a time and came back looking as if he’d been dragged through a hedge? No, he hadn’t. He’d been too scared to confront what might be going on, what latent part of his programming might be at play. 

“Look, if you’re too scared to ask why don’t I?” 

Now it was Steve’s turn to raise his eyebrow, it wasn’t that Sam and Bucky didn’t get along, they just didn’t get along yet. Steve was working on it. 

“What if we…followed him?” He offered instead and Sam laughed again. 

“Who knew Captain America was scared of his own friends,” he couldn’t contain the chuckles. “Fine, fine. Let’s keep an eye on him.” Sam turned to the ceiling, more comfortable with the AI than Steve was. “FRIDAY, if Sergeant Barnes leaves his room, please can you alert us - privately?” 

“Of course,” the soft voice answered and Steve gave his friend a weak smile. 

FRIDAY’S alert went off twice a day, every day, over the next week. But despite their best efforts neither Steve nor Sam managed to catch up with Bucky. 

It wasn’t until the following Saturday that they managed to follow him. Bucky was supposed to be at a training session to get his official certifications but they’d both had a feeling he’d try and skip it. As predicted they’d spotted the blue of his new henley edging around the side of the compound, a full backpack strapped to his back. 

Bucky ran across the grass and towards the thick forest. His still uncut hair was tied back but tendrils fell out as he sprinted into the wind. 

He was surprisingly loud, as he strode quickly between the trees, snapping twigs and branches that Steve knew he could’ve dodge even before the serum and his training. Sam looked at him, both of their feet silent as they followed. 

Bucky’s speed increased as he turned his face up into the breeze, his backpack jostled against the trees, bouncing when he began to run. 

Steve kept up, sending Sam wide, into the breeze, in case Bucky doubled back. 

Just as he was starting to feel lost in the repetition of trees and ferns, Bucky burst into a clearing and Steve slammed to a halt. 

The pine trees gave way to a small patch of clear sky, shining down on an old shed. Unlike the other abandoned guard houses, this one had obviously been cleaned recently. The small porch was swept and a pair of Avengers camping chairs were arranged neatly facing into the forest. A line had been strung between the cabin and the trees where one of the missing blankets fluttered in the gentle wind. 

Steve crouched down, motioning to Sam on the other side of the clearing to stay out of sight. 

Bucky approached slowly, “Cățeluș, are you here?” 

At first there was nothing and then a wolf nosed its way out from behind the door, it’s chestnut brown fur almost gold in the sunlight. It leaped forwards from the porch and shot across the clearing, leaping into Bucky’s arms. 

Steve whipped his head up to try and find Sam and by the time his eyes found Bucky again the wolf was gone, replaced by a woman pulling on a large t-shirt from Bucky’s backpack. 

“James!” Her sweet voice rang out in the otherwise quiet forest. 

Swamped by Bucky’s familiar red henley, you shot from the door and into Bucky's waiting arms, the back pack dropped to the floor and forgotten. 

She was swamped by Bucky’s red henley and he wrapped you in his arms, one large hand on the back of your head, tucking you into his neck. The other supported your legs, now wrapped around his waist. 

In the clearing Bucky's shoulders relaxed as he sank into your embrace, kissing and nipping at your neck. In return you tipped your head, practically purring at the attention and wriggling in his arms. 

“Have you been okay, baby.” Bucky asked, pulling away enough to look you over. 

“I'm okay, I missed you though, James, please don't leave me again.” You begged cupping his stubbled cheeks in your hands. 

Bucky turned into your palm and kissed it, “I know, I know, I’ve been making sure it’s safe for you.” 

Steve's heart sank. Bucky didn't feel safe? 

“You trust me, don't you, my little omega.” Bucky rubbed his nose into your cheek and you giggled, holding him even tighter, your hands in his hair. 

An omega? 

Sam stared over at Steve, eyes wide. 

It was clear to them both that this was no chance encounter and all Bucky’s odd behaviour suddenly started to make more sense.

Steve motioned for Sam to leave, they could sneak back to the compound and perhaps bring this up tentatively. Perhaps leave some items you might like lying around in the hopes that Bucky would take them and understand that his secret was out, but it was safe. 

Sam moved swiftly round the clearing as Steve continued to watch Bucky. 

Bucky vanished into the cabin, leaving you on the porch alone, snuggled into his shirt and pressing the collar to your nose. 

“She’s cute,” Sam whispered, squeezing up against Steve, still hiding in the overgrown ferns that lined the edge of the cabin. 

“We can’t let her sleep out here. She must be hungry and cold.”

Bucky emerged from the cabin carrying two of the missing mugs, balancing them carefully on the railing before scooping you up into his lap. His hand hovered by his mouth, sipping in slow motion as his eyes scanned the tree line and Steve took a breath, sitting back quickly. 

“Stay here, Cățeluș,” he was up in a flash, eyes always on the tree line even when he reached into his boot to pull out a familiar gerber knife. 

Instead of flipping it into his palm, he balanced it on the arm of your camping chair. Eyes still on the trees he placed his metal hand on top of your head, “stay here and stay safe, follow the plan, do what you need to.” His voice was low, series, almost a growl. Far away from the happy, loving tones he’d been speaking to you with before. 

You nodded, and as soon as he felt your head move he was up and off the porch. 

Steve and Sam looked up in time to see a wolf leap towards them. 

It was true then, the experiments had worked and Steve had the cold feeling that returned every time he discovered something new about his friend during a fight, but he had no time to worry about it now. Not when the wolf was closing in on them. 

It was huge, its white fur dusted with fallen leaves, but its teeth gleamed in the afternoon sun as he pounced, snarling. His paws the size of dinner plates slamming into the ground in front of them, teeth bared and snarling. 

Steve rolled away, pulling Sam with him and covering his body, regretting not bringing the shield. 

“Bucky!” Sam shouted from under Steve’s arm

“Bucky it’s us we don’t want to hurt you!” 

The wolf pulled back from the two men pinned beneath him, and something like clarity passed over Bucky’s icey blue eyes and he sat on his haunches, head cocked to one side, ears floppy. Then it stood, rounding the bushes and, in a blink, the man had reappeared still hiding before the foliage to cover his naked body. 

“Steve -” Bucky looked thoroughly confused, 

“Bucky, we’re so sorry we shouldn’t have followed you.” 

“What are you doing here?” Bucky’s voice wavered, his body cold without his fur and with his clothes left behind in the cabin. 

“We were worried about you, man, you’ve been so weird - stealing stuff, going missin’, can you blame us for getting creeped out?” Sam raised his eyebrows and Bucky’s brow furrowed. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I just had to -” he gestured back towards the cabin and, as if remembering he’d left you behind with no way of knowing he was safe he turned and ran back to the clearing. 

Steve and Sam jumped up, chasing after Bucky once more. 

The cabin porch was empty when Steve picked his way down the slope of mud and rocks into the clearing. 

A howl rang out as he got closer to the little house, a high, pained sound and then the response came, low and level. 

There were two wolves now, hidden at the side of the cabin in the shadows.

The white wolf kept itself half turned towards Steve and Sam, who kept quiet and still, barely daring to breathe, allowing its companion to approach slowly. 

The brown wolf dropped in front of the white, ears flat back against its head, and then rolled over, showing a soft belly that the white wolf nuzzled gently before turning back to Steve and barking sharply. 

Steve held his hands up and the wolf barked again, turning tail and returning to the cabin. 

It took only moments for Bucky to show himself on the porch, pulling his henley back down over his now dirt streaked belly. 

“Come in,” he gestured up the stairs and vanished again. 

The cabin, though run down, was well kept. The porch was swept of leaves and there was even a little mat by the door. 

“Shoes,” you whispered, pulling on Bucky’s sleeve as you entered the main living space, making an attempt to hide behind him. You’d dressed again too, also in one of Bucky’s henleys and a pair of leggings that Steve recognised as Avengers recruit issue. 

“Do you mind?” Bucky asked while Steve and Sam stared between you both. 

“Shoes,” you turned to look up at Bucky again, eyes pleading in one moment and then flicking to the two new men treading mud into your home. 

“Your shoes, take them off.” Bucky helped them arrange their boots neatly by the door while you pottered around the fireplace. “This is her nest,” he whispered, making sure the doormat was straight and the little curtain was neat over the window. “It’s important to omegas, to her,” you turned shooting a glare over your shoulder, “to us-that it’s kept just right and she hates shoes inside.”

In the small living space a camping stove had been set up with a kettle, a portable fridge, and an assortment of mugs, both Avengers field regulation and novelty, which were set neatly on the mantel. You chose four, and placed them next to the kettle while it steamed happily away. 

Bucky spoke softly to you in a mixture of English and Romanian, but you didn’t come any closer to the strange men. You’d seen them before, on the television and in Bucky’s notebooks, but now that they were here, so large and imposing, you couldn’t bring yourself to even look over. 

“This is Cățeluș, well, that’s not her real name but we couldn’t find that. She - uh -” you watched Bucky struggle for words and lay a hand on his cheek, smiling warmly up at him. Your Winter, your James. “-I don’t want to say the word, it upsets her, but she was with me when I was - him - part of the experiments.” 

You poured the tea quietly, watching the steam rise into the darts of sun making their way through the broken knots of wood in the wall, and you took a deep breath. With shaking hands you gave the first man, Sam, a cup. He had a gentle face, a wide smile and he didn’t look at you with pity, as you feared, only interest. 

The second man held his breath as you approached, keeping his hands as close to his body as possible until you pushed the cup towards him. Steve. Bucky had lots of pictures of Steve in his notebooks and had told you more stories than you could remember, but he didn’t look sickly, he looked too big for the space, his shoulders drawn in, slouched. You appreciated that he was trying not to look scary, even though your every nerve was on edge.  

Bucky took the proffered mug from your hands with a kiss to your forehead and you sighed, allowing him to steer you to the only arm chair in the room and then passing you your own tea. 

“We got out, eventually and - I brought her here.” Bucky sat on the rolled arm of the chair, draping his own arm over your shoulders and fitting you into his side. 

Steve and Sam could only stare. 

“Why didn’t you bring her to the compound? She can stay -” Steve turned to you, “you can stay, either in Bucky’s room or you can have your own room if you’d prefer.” 

It took you a moment to process the offer, but eventually you shook your head, turning into Bucky’s side. 

“It was awful - in there, with them she, we both -” Bucky struggled for the words, the desire to protect you rising inside 

“It’s okay,” Sam said carefully, “I know the transition’s been rough on you, Bucky, I can’t imagine what it’s been like for her, how you even got her out here. But there’s nothing to be afraid of, maybe she’ll come with you? If you suggest it?” 

Sam kept looking at you, his eyes soft and encouraging but you turned away, pressed your face into Bucky’s ribs where his scent had soaked through his shirt, reassuring and primal, chanting in your head Alpha, safe, Alpha, safe. You did miss him, when he was gone, but how could he keep you safe in that place. 

You’d seen it, once or twice, through the trees when you took a walk, looking for whatever you could find in the forest. Guards left lots of things behind, bottles and coats and jackets, useful things. You collected them all, skirting around the edge of that horrid white building and hoping to never see the terrifying things that flew out of it, men in suits and robots, it was too much. 

“You can bring whatever you like with you, and maybe Nat and Wanda could help you with some new things, if you liked?” Steve followed Sam’s lead, keeping his voice steady and low. 

“James - my nest.” You mumbled, gripping his henley in your fist. 

He dropped a hand onto your head, “we can do whatever you like, baby. You want to stay here, we can stay, you want to go to the compound, we’ll go.” 

You felt Bucky’s heart rate pick up, its beat hammering and your anxiety grew too, your breathing more ragged, you turned even further into him, practically climbing into his lap, the henley you’d taken from him riding up. 

Instantly you knew it was a mistake, the scars of your time in Hydra were still visible, raised on your skin, yellowing patches of healing bruises and calloused skin from repeated bouts in the chair. 

Sam and Steve could barely conceal their inhale of breath. 

“Bucky, did you get her checked by a doctor or…” Sam trailed off, Bucky looked angry again, his arms fully surrounding you. 

“And what would I have said, Sam?” He growled, “I know she looks like she’s been kept in a cage and beaten but please don’t arrest me, I promise it wasn’t me? Her social security number? Sorry, I don’t have it, we don’t even know her name. I did the best I could.” His anger tipped over into a resigned sadness. Bucky cupped your face in one hand and forced you to look up at him, “I did the best I could, baby, I really did.” 

You nodded and his grip loosened so you could nuzzle into his chest again, your own tears running down your cheeks at the memory of those early days. Bucky’s shaking hands patching up your burns and cuts, the whisky you’d slugged before he pulled out a stray bullet from your arm and stitched it with floss. Every touch had been gentle though, every time he’d changed your bandages or cleaned you up, it had been gentle. It had been everything he could give you. 

“We didn’t mean it like that, Buck,but we could help, get her checked over and then you can come back here.” Sam’s voice was plaintive, deliberately soothing and it made Bucky’s blood boil. 

“I’m not taking her to that place.” He bit back, there was no mistaking the way he curled you into his body, tucking your head under his chin and wrapping his arms around your back. 

It didn’t hurt anymore, to be touched, but then it’d never hurt to be touched by James. His hands had always been careful with you, his strength used only for protection and it was for that reason that you lay your trust in him completely. 

“Don’t make me go, Alpha.” You whispered, your lips brushing the base of his neck where you’d marked him, right over his scent gland, your teeth marks an eternal brand. You nuzzled into him, your chest rumbling again. 

“I won’t make you go,” he looked back at Steve and Sam, the finality of his decision sat heavily in the air. 

“Can we at least bring some medical things here? Would you let Sam check you out?” Steve offered, he was increasingly concerned by the way Bucky had retreated into the chair, his own legs now curled up on the overstuffed cushion.

Above you, James nodded once, “just you and Sam, don’t tell anyone else. I’ll know if you tell anyone else.” The panic edging Bucky’s voice had Steve raising his hands in surrender. 

“I promise, Buck, just Sam and I.”

Sam and Steve left the cabin at dusk while you and Bucky watched from the deck. As soon as they were beyond the trees he pulled you even tighter against his chest, his heat warm. 

“Everything is going to be okay, baby, I promise, no one’s going to ever, ever, hurt you again.” His hands slid down your arms and across the slow swell of your belly. “But we should consider their offer, make sure we’re making a choice that’s good for you and me, as well as them.” His palm pushed up under your shirt, splayed on your tight skin and, deep inside, your pup pushed back. 

[corpscs]

⚰︎ 𝚘𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝟻. ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⚰︎ 𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

· · ─ ☣︎ BOB REYNOLDS — meals on wheels

⚰︎ tags: blood drive ep2 (2017) ⋆ blood diner (1987) ⋆ no use of y/n ⋆ reader nondescript ⋆ mdni ⋆ blood ⋆ gore ⋆ mentioned cannibalism (not the reader) ⋆ the void is bob’s twin ⋆ linecook!bob ⋆ cain and able symbolism ⋆ attempted SA* don't worry he fucking dies ⋆ word count: 2.9k

⚰︎ warnings: horror

⚰︎ while on a road trip with your deadbeat boyfriend; you have to stop for the night at a peculiar motel and meet the interesting set of twins that own it.

⚰︎ nobody ever knows i’m what talking about when i reference blood drive and it breaks my HEART. it is very bloody and very campy. — bonus: Adrian was chosen as a name for the Void because it means dark, a counterpart to the meaning of Robert which means bright.

⚰︎ “Piece of shit!” Your boyfriend slammed the hood of his car causing the entire vehicle to shake. You jumped at his outburst, fiddling with your phone from the passenger seat, despite having no service reliable enough to use the internet.

You waited for him to finish with his man tantrum before he sat back down into the drivers seat, still cussing under his breath. You recalled the sign a few miles back that read the lodging and food facilities off of the highway.

You started to speak softly, "There was the-" he cut you off.

"FUCK! I know!"

You pursed your lips and blinked twice, mouthing an okay with minute attitude that he decided to ignore. He opened his phone to dial a tow service, being unnecessarily curt to the operator. You waited thirty minutes for the tow truck.

The driver was a gruff gentleman, his skin rough looking and stature showing signs of a lifetime of manual work, maybe somewhere in his sixties. He was polite, and gave you a ride to the nearest repair shop a few miles off the highway. You kept to yourself, feeling out of place amongst the two men.

Once at the auto shop, you waited outside at a picnic table under the shade of a faded umbrella while your boyfriend talked to the mechanic. Your eyes drifted over to a group of buzzards picking at a carcass off to the side of the road. The large birds ripped at the rotten meat paying no mind to any passing vehicle.

"-I can give you folks a lift down to the closest motel." Your boyfriend was now exiting the office with the same tow driver from before. Your boyfriend agreed, the two you help load your bags in the bed of a well used blue pickup.

It was a short 15 minute drive down the route before you were pulling up to a large lot in the vast desert. The rusted sign read Pixie Swallow Motel Diner, you assumed that was the building that was to the left of the Motel office. You exited the truck to observe the exterior of the motel. The entire lot was uncanny. Retro mint green exterior, three cars parked outside of the two story building of rooms.

A whistle brought you out of you thoughts, your boyfriend was halfway to the office now, leaving you standing along in the parking lot. You rushed to catch up with him, almost missing the door before it shut behind him.

"Hi, welcome. to Pixie Swallow" The man at the counter looked up at you both. He was a handsome man, strong jawline, dark curly hair and deep eyes, you couldn't quite tell if they were a deep brown or actually just black.

"Hey." Your boyfriend nodded. "Uh- One room."

"You got it!" The man gave him a cheery smile, it almost put you off. Uncanny, was a good way to describe him too. His name tag read Adrian. He handed the Adrian, his ID and a stack of cash.

"Waiting on car repairs. If that's won't cover it, let me know."

Aiden nodded at his words, smile widening.

"Sure thing!" He handed your boyfriend a key, and made a show of handing you one separately. "You will be in room 333. If you guys are hungry, our diner right next door is open until 9pm tonight. My brother makes a killer burger!" He laughed at his own words.

"Mm, I could eat. "Your boyfriend decided. You nodded along smiling at Adrian.

"You two, enjoy your stay." He smiled. "You won't need help with your bags," Adrian asked in the faintest condescending tone, "right?"

You heard your boyfriend's jaw tick. Adrian was still smiling politly, hands neatly clasped on the desk.

"Nah buddy." He waved him off. "I got it."

Your boyfriend pushed at your shoulder light enough to be seen as playful. You offered Adrian an apologetic look as you were dragged back to the waiting pickup for you to unload.

The diner was cute. Muted blue and yellow decor that looked straight from the 70's. Soft classic rock playing over a jukebox in the corner. Towards the front window was an elderly couple eating burgers and talking quietly amongst themselves. There was an unapproachable looking trucker sat by himself off to the side of the dining room eating a Sloppy Joe. He shamelessly looked you up and down multiple times as he chewed slowly. You tucked yourself closer to your boyfriend.

You followed your boyfriend to a booth, sitting yourself across from him. A blonde waitress approached the two of you. She brandished a polite smile, placing menus and silverware on the table. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and wore a rounded name tag that read LENA. After jotting down your water and your boyfriend's beer, she announced she would be back with your drinks before she took your orders.

“She’ll have a house salad.” Your boyfriend decided for you when she had returned. Lena’s eyebrows raised at him, clearly unimpressed with him. Her eyes turned to you, non verbally asking if that’s what you actually wanted.

“Yeah, I’ll take the salad.” You laughed nervously. She was the type of girl that your boyfriend hated; the kind that would most likely stand up to him if presented the opportunity.

“Alright, I will go put that in for you.” She offered a tight lipped smile before turning back to the double doors of the kitchen.

⚰︎ Adrian leant against the wall, still antagonizing his brother for staring at you from the side entrance while Yelena took your order.

"C'mon, you think she's pretty. Don'tcha Bobby?"

Bob ignored him, wiping down his station for the umpteenth time in the past few minutes.

“That guy is shit.” Yelena said clipping the ticket up. Bob looked over to her with a small frown.

“Oh, yeah?” Adrian asked, smile etching onto his face. Bob swallowed nervously, eyeing the double doors. The radio in the kitchen and the stereo that played out loud was enough to drown out their voices.

“She seems sweet.” Yelena added. “She needed to dump him yesterday; he is straight garbage." She paused with a thoughtful hum, "Maybe she is also garbage, who knows?”

"No, she seemed-" Bob said quietly, his brother turned to him with an indifferent expression. He swallowed and cleared his throat. "She seems nice."

"All I know is that it will be a goddamn miracle if he tips me more than three dollars." Yelena joked before returning to her tables.

The salad was good in salad standards; your boyfriend all but inhaled his burger, even ordering a second one. The burger did look good, they were plated nicely and had a good amount of toppings that came with them. A few more people had trickled into the diner, some greeting Lena like an old friend. She handled the crowd effortlessly, you even watched her twist a guy's arm when they tried to reach for her.

After you ate, and your boyfriend was given the check for your meal. He tipped Lena something around 5% of your total bill. You gave her a sheepish smile as you followed him back to your shared motel room. He fell asleep almost instantly, allowing you some time to yourself.

You fished around in your luggage for your little zip puch where you hid your money.

You rendered the Diner, it was empty of patrons, Adrian, the motel manager sat at the counter, Lena was stood behind the counter. She was standing beside who you assumed was Adrian's brother. They looked identical, noticing hair colors and their other minute differences.

"Hello, again." Lena smiled from her spot. You gave her a smile, stepping into the room.

"Hi." You toyed with the money in your hand. "I was just in here, and um- my boyfriend left you a horrible tip." You explained with a nervous laugh, eyeing you motel door from your spot.

"He fell asleep and I wanted to come over and make sure you were properly paid for your work." You crossed the tiles to hand her the folded bills. She brandished a thankful look, eyebrows drawing down into a frown.

"That's sweet of you, dorogaya₁." She she took them money from you, head tipping in thought.

"Ah, this is, Bob, our chef."

"It's uh- nice," he cleared his throat, "nice to meet you."

You smiled at him.

"Uh- I should get back." You eyed the door. "It was nice to meet you Bob; Thank thank you again." You bid them goodbye before stepping back into the afternoon air.

The group waited until you were out of earshot before speaking again amongst themselves. "So it's just her boyfriend who sucks." Adrian concluded with a grin.

"Bleh," Yelena gagged, "I wanted to pull his tongue out of his mouth when I took his order," Yelena stirred her soda. "but she's too cute."

After your boyfriend woke from his name, he made the decision to go to the pub that was now open across the street. You spent your time to yourself reading and watching the cable TV in the room. You were half asleep when he returned stumbling through the doo startling you back awake.

You gasped out his name, clutching your hand in shock.

"Hey, babe." He laughed, picking himself off the carpet. He was drunk.

"Hey." You said quietly, watching him stumble in and shed his jacket.

"C'mere." He pulled the quilt off of your body. You pulled your legs from his reach.

You called his name, trying to grab the blankets back, "Stop that, I'm tired."

"'m horny." He gruffed pulling at his belt, climbing onto the bed.

"No, you're drunk." You said stepping off of the mattress and backing around the foot of the bed. You didn't like him sober, really didn't like him drunk either.

"Shut-" he burped. "Get over here." He slapped at his lap sloppily. You shook your head, opening the door and escaping the room. He perused you out into the dirt parking lot, grabbing at your sweater.

"I said no!" You pushed at him again, this time you wiggled out of your sweater to escape. He stumbled back, nearly falling into the dirt.

“All you do is fucking complain and complain! No, no, NO! Everything about YOU!” He shouted, throwing your sweater at you, it fluttered into the air landing in the dirt of the parking lot. The hand that threw it grabbed at your neck squeezing and shoving you back against the fence.

He hesitated, before pushing himself off of you, letting you gasp to collect your air.

You hiccuped, trying to hold your emotions together. Your boyfriend was about to make a few rushed steps towards you but was halted by a voice.

"Hey!" Bob was stood under the breams of a floodlight, eyes squinted in concern. He looked nervously between you two.

“Everything alright here?” The Bob asked eyeing your boyfriend. You nodded, rubbing at your face, hoping to clear the tear stains that had fallen on your cheeks

“Just peachy, ain’t that right, Babe.” Your boyfriend curled his hand around your waist, landing a loud slap on your behind. You jumped, playing off your flinch as best as you could.

“Yeah.” You agreed, voice fighting to stay above a whisper. His grip on your upper arm tightened. “We’re fine.” Robert eyed you carefully, crouching down to grab your jacket.

“You sure?” He asked while holding the garnet out to you. You nodded again giving him a sad smile.

“Thank you.” You said quietly, avoiding his gaze. Bob bid you two goodnight, carefully eyeing the blooming mark on your neck.

"I'm going to head to bed." You uttered. "Um- Goodnight, Bob."

"Goodnight." Bob gave you a warm smile, glaring at your boyfriend. You settled in for the night, your back turned to where your boyfriend still sat on the bed watching the TV. At some point in the night he roused you once more, only half awake; the TV buzz had kept you teetering in and out of consciousness. This time he was announcing that he was going to smoke another cigarette, grabbing his hat and jacket before stepping outside. After what seemed like over an hour, you grew anxious. Had he fallen? Did he leave you here?

You searched outside first finding no sign of him when you peeked your head out. You got your shoes on and threw on a hoodie before setting out to the managers office. The light was on, the door unlocked. Inside was a mostly normal looking room, except for the line of blood drops that lead out the side doorway.

"Hello?" You called out; no answer.

You swallowed your fears and ignored your logic and decided to follow the trail. It lead you outside, where you could barely track it in the dirt, seeing too many scuffs, footprints and lines to tell. Eventually the trail lead you to the diner. You peeked into the glass of the front, seeing a light on towards the back of the kitchen. This front door was also left unlocked.

You called out your boyfriend's name. "This isn't funny." Your voice wavered. You saw his hat on the floor, a dusty boot print present on top of the cap. You heard hushed voices from the kitchen.

You hesitantly pushed open the door, calling his name once again. Your words were socked from your lungs at the appalling sight before you. Your eyed zeroed in on the table first; severed body parts, arms, legs, torsos, all laid out on the metal next to their meat grinders and other tools. The cuts looked professional, like a trained butcher had done them.

The horrific pieces clicked into place on what they were doing with the human meat in a kitchen. The burger your boyfriend had eaten earlier.

Adrian was standing directly across the room from when you entered, arms crossed wearing a look of subtle amused surprise on his features. Bob stood closer to you wearing a guilty smile, knuckles bruised, face splattered in blood. Bob looked one million percent more anxious than his twin brother did.

"Hey- uh-" The muffled cries of your boyfriend had your attention turning to the chain behind Bob. Stepping to the side revealed his position.

Your boyfriend was fastened upside down, hung directly over a drain on the floor. Your boyfriend called your name from behind the gag, face contorting from horror to relief. His face was bruised and bloodied.

You breathed out a quiet breath of air; brain stalling in disbelief. Both brothers were staring at you now, you backed up, almost tripping over your own feet.

"Grab her!" Adrian shouted.

You turned to run back out the door, making it five paces into the dining room. You felt the strong hold of Bob's arms around your torso, caging your arms to your chest. You thrashed, trying to free yourself. You tried calling for help, a hand of his traveled to your jaw, holding your mouth shut. He hushed you, arms tightening their hold on you.

"Please, stay quiet." Bob pleaded. He paused breathing in a few deep breaths. "It can be okay if-if you just stay quiet." He pulled you back into the kitchen, where Adrian still stood.

"Bring her here, Bobby." He instructed. You cried out and tried to protest as you were brought back into the room.

"We're not going to hurt her right?" Bob asked his brother in a timid voice. "You-you said- I could have her-"

"Fuck! Calm down, Bobby." Adrian snipped turning away in frustration. After a moment of deep breathing he walked to the table.

"Robert said he saw your boyfriend hit you last night, that true?" Adrian asked, pulling a large knife from a wrapping. You looked at your boyfriend, shaking your head.

"Please let him go." You pleaded.

"Are you calling my brother a liar?" Adrian asked, crossing the room to you. You stilled as he pressed the dull side of the knife to your chin, eying the discolored skin of your neck. "Because he's a lot of things, but I don't believe he would lie to me."

"No! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please-"

"I don't believe in beating women," He said pulling the knife away, "but I'll drain anything that bleeds. That's just fair game." He turned the blade to land a slice on your chest. You sobbed at his words, legs weakening in terror and pain.

"It just feels so much better when they're a fucking no good piece of shit!" Adrians words faded into laughter as he stood back up. Bob held you still while he idly watched the scene unfold. If he let his brother do as he wished everything should be fine.

Your boyfriend's breathing had picked up, losing breath from his screams behind his gag. Adrian sighed.

"I've had enough of this shit." walking back over to where your boyfriend was hanging. You pleaded to Bob quietly to let you go, but his hold never budged.

"Stay quiet." He whispered. "You should look away."

Your boyfriend’s cries cot louder though the gag, chain rattling as she fought against his bindings. Dread settled into the pit of your stomach as you watched Adrian raise the knife to your boyfriend's throat. You squeezed your eyes shut when you began to hear the soft slicing sound, soon followed by the echos of the drain pipe. You peeked open your eyes, to see him still thrashing, blood pouring from a clean cut across his chest. Adrian went in for a second cut, you flinched into Bob’s hold, eyes tightening again.

You wept silently in his arms, muscles trembling in fear of being next. Bob's hand rubbed at our back in a comforting manor.

"She is quiet." You heard Adrian's voice hum. Bob nodded frantically, hand still petting you. "Maybe she can stay."

dorogaya - dear ₁

⚰︎ fictober mixtape ⋆ fictober m.list ⋆ m.list ⋆

[unbreakablemouserat]

THE OFFICE (US) (2005-2013) 7.07 - "Christening"

[veryluckyclovers]

[superbassbuck]

Nutshell.

pairing: scientist!bucky barnes x experiment!reader

warnings: 18+ NSFW, smut, daddy kink, dark!bucky, slight steve x reader, dubcon bordering noncon, stockholm syndrome, emotional manipulation, drugs, masochism and sadism, obsessive and possessive behavior, verbal abuse, mental illness, isolation, self-harm, mentions of the word "rape", angst, fingering, praise kink, innocence kink, medical malpractices, surgical inaccuracies, pet names, spanking

word count: 11.3k main masterlist

a/n: please read the warnings listed before reading. i am not responsible for your media consumption. thank you to @danysdaughter and @iamthatonefangirl for giving me the courage to write this. clutching my shovel real close tonight ♥️

synopsis: You are Bucky’s most prized possession. Your mind, body, and soul were crafted by his own hands—he gave you life, and he could just as easily take it away. He never imagined he’d feel threatened by his own creation, until the day you began to have desires of your own.

If you were to ask James Buchanan Barnes for the definition of ‘insanity,’ he would tell you “Insanity is a severely disordered state of the mind.”

If you were to ask him what the cause of insanity is, he would say “It’s triggered by a combination of many things. For example, if one becomes too fascinated—too fixated—on something to the point that it takes a toll on their mental health. It can shift their reality and potentially drive themselves to the very brink. It is a common denominator, I’ve noticed.”

If you were to ask him if insanity was correlated with craziness in any way, he would reply with “That’s exactly what it is.”

If you were to ask James Buchanan Barnes if he was crazy, he would say no.

Bucky never thought he was crazy—as a matter of fact, he was far from it.

From the day he found your corpse and brought you back to life through grueling experimentation, to the long months he kept you tucked away in the shadows of the hospital’s hidden basement laboratory—up until now, as he stood before you with a tray of cold hospital food in his hands.

No, he never thought he was crazy. Not then, and certainly not now.

“Darling? Daddy’s here,” Bucky murmured, knocking gently on the door.

He pressed his ear to the wood, waiting for a sound—that soft, gentle “come in!” he had taught you to say every time he arrived.

There was no sound.

Bucky smiled softly. He figured you were just asleep.

After looking around to ensure the coast was clear, as it always was, he pushed the door open quietly. As it shut softly behind him, a relieved breath escaped his lips at the sight of you.

There you were, lying on the cot on your side with your hands tucked beneath your cheek—sound asleep.

He couldn’t help his smile as he set the tray of food down on the table next to you. He sat at the edge of the cot, running his hand up and down your arm in a hauntingly slow motion. “I brought you dinner,” he whispered.

You only let out a sleepy moan. Bucky ran his hand down your hair, pushing it behind your ear. He frowned at how it felt beneath his fingertips. He had just brushed it this morning, and yet it was already a knotted, tangled mess.

“Come on, baby. Wake up. Your food’s not getting any warmer.”

He nudged you gently, but you still didn’t wake. He was beginning to grow impatient.

“Open your eyes for me,” he commanded, kneeling down as his voice rose.

When you still didn’t stir, his jaw clenched. Both hands found your shoulders, shaking you hard as he yelled in your face, “I told you to wake up!”

You jolted awake with a startled gasp, your eyes hazy with sleep as you stared back at the man in front of you. His grip on your shoulders was so tight it hurt.

He had yelled at you—what had you done wrong? Did you misplace something? Or was it simply because you had slept in?

Your master’s chest was heaving as he glared at you with wide, crazed eyes.

After finally getting your attention, Bucky’s breathing calmed slightly. Your eyes were wide with fear and your body was shaking, curling in on itself as if trying to make yourself as small as possible.

Your eyes—sunken, swollen, and bruised from his experiments a few days ago—were still prominent, and the sight of them made him feel even worse.

Slowly, he let go of your shoulders. “I… fuck,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he sat back on his heels. “I’m sorry, doll. I got ahead of myself.”

Your shoulders eased slightly, though not entirely.

“I just had a bad day,” Bucky went on with a sigh. “These idiots at the facility… they’re working me like a dog. They have me running all these labs, all these data sheets…” He rubbed the crease between his brows. “I’m just so tired. And all I wanted was for you to be waiting at the door to greet me.”

You felt your heart thump in your chest. You had to react carefully—otherwise, Bucky’s mood would only sour further.

“I’m sorry,” you said, pulling yourself off the short cot to meet him on the floor with a hug.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, your chest pressed against his. Bucky let out a sigh, his eyes fluttering closed in satisfaction as his large arms wrapped around you. His hands splayed across your back, pulling you in even closer as his nose nuzzled the side of your head, breathing in your scent.

Rubbing alcohol, acetonitrile, and just a slight hint of lavender. His favorite.

“That’s it,” Bucky cooed into your ear. “You can be so forgetful, but at the end of the day, you always know how to make Daddy happy.”

He pulled away slightly to look you in the face. “Look at you, your hair’s a mess.” His frown deepened again as he tucked the stray hairs away from your eyes. “What did you do all day while I was gone?”

“I’ve been reading—or… trying to read the papers you told me to read.”

Bucky smiled, reaching for the hairbrush on your bedside table. His hands found your hair, dragging the bristles through the tangled heap.

“You mean the books?”

You nodded.

He sighed wistfully. “I wish I could hear you read them out loud to me, but I haven’t had much time these days.”

“I know,” you said, sounding a little more solemn than you’d like.

Bucky heard the disappointment in your voice, and his heart broke. “Turn around for me.”

Still sitting on the floor, you scrambled around until your back faced him. His hand bunched your hair from behind as he did his best to fix the mess you created.

“Tell me more,” he prompted, encouraging you to continue.

“The words make my head hurt,” you explained, staring at the floor. “It’s all just… a jumbled mess of text. I don’t even know what half the words mean.” Your finger traced the cold, laboratory tile. “My head has been hurting a lot, and the books just make me feel worse.”

Bucky’s brush went still for a moment.

Every time the headaches came, you would start pulling and tugging at your hair, crying in frustration. You would roll around on the cot, hit your head against the wall, or yank at your own locks—anything to rid yourself of the pain. But you didn’t know that those things only made it worse. All you knew was to hurt the things that hurt you.

“Sorry, darling,” he said gently. “I need to operate on your brain to help fix this problem. Maybe this next experiment will help you remember words better—help you gain some of that reading memory back. I’ll find the time for it, I promise. I’ve just been so—”

“—busy,” you completed the sentence for him, a bitter bite in your tone. “I know.”

He paused again, and it dragged out longer this time. “Excuse me?”

“I already heard how busy you were the first time,” you mumbled. “I don’t need to hear it again.”

Bucky’s eyebrow twitched. He couldn’t believe this was happening. You were talking back to him?

He grabbed your shoulders, roughly spinning you around and making you yelp as you were forced to face him again. Before you could compose yourself, he pressed his face against yours, his hands cupping your cheeks with a hard squeeze.

“Where the fuck did this new attitude come from? Who the hell do you think you’re talking to, huh?” he seethed. “Did you forget your place? Did you forget who brought you here? Who took your sad, cold body from the grave and gave you a new life?”

You winced as he squeezed your face even harder.

“I gave you life. I made your heart beat again. I gave your brain a mind and your body a purpose. And if you disrespect me one more time, I can take it all away just as easily.”

That tone of his made your heart start to race. It was like a trauma response buried deep in your nerves he had rewired. Your vision started to blur as tears began to well up, spilling down your face before you even realized you were crying.

“I’m sorry,” you gasped, the words tumbling over each other. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it! I—I’m sorry, Bucky.”

You were apologizing profusely now, your hands hovering near his, not daring to touch him. You just wanted the pressure on your face to stop.

Bucky’s expression softened, just barely. He loosened his grip, his thumb brushing over your cheeks to wipe away the tears. He let out a long, weary sigh—the sound of a man burdened by… whatever it was you were to him.

He set the brush on the floor and pulled you back into his chest, hugging you once more.

“I’m sorry, doll,” he murmured into your hair. “I’m so sorry I had to do that. I hate when I have to talk to you like that, I really do.” He squeezed you tighter, his chin resting on the top of your head. “But I have to make sure you understand. How else am I supposed to get through to you? You know I only do it because I love you. I can’t have you forgetting who takes care of you.”

You stayed frozen in his arms, hiccuping between sobs.

When Bucky pulled back slightly to look at you, the small gap made you whine. He smiled in satisfaction. Of course—despite everything, you still needed him.

“There’s my girl,” he whispered. “Come here. Give Daddy a kiss.”

You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, pushing yourself up from the floor just enough to press your lips to his in a soft, gentle kiss. That was all you wanted, really—just a kind gesture to remind you that Bucky cared for you as much as he claimed.

But then his hands found your face again, locking you in place before you could pull away. His lips began to explore yours hungrily. He pushed his tongue against the entrance, sliding in to dance against yours.

A moan of satisfaction vibrated in his throat, then to his lips where you felt it.

He always kissed you like he was starving. He kissed you until your lips were swollen and wet, until you were panting and your heart was racing. When he was finally satisfied, he pulled away, catching his own breath as he trailed his thumbs over your bottom lip.

“Beautiful,” he praised breathlessly. “Absolutely beautiful.”

Despite how he had treated you just seconds ago, you couldn’t help but smile. Being praised by him always made the pain worth it.

But your salvation didn’t last. Bucky pushed himself off the floor with a grunt. He extended a hand to help you up, but you remained where you were on the floor.

“W-where are you going?” you asked softly, staring up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

He checked the watch on his wrist. “It’s getting late, doll. I need to head home and get some sleep. I’ve got a long day tomorrow—gotta be up bright and early for some projects at the facility.”

Your eyes widened. He had left you alone all day, and he was leaving already?

“No,” you protested weakly.

Bucky tilted his head. “No?”

You couldn’t imagine another night of silence. “Please,” you whispered with a voice crack. “Please don’t leave me yet. It’s so quiet and lonely here.”

Bucky’s hand paused halfway through his hair as he let out a sigh. He looked down at you, his eyes looking almost mournful. “You’re breaking my heart, darling,” he murmured. “You know I hate leaving you, but Daddy’s got to work. I do it all for you, remember?”

When he took a step away from you, that’s when panic started to flare in your weak heart and desperation took over completely.

You scrambled across the tile, your fingers digging around the fabric of his trousers as you clutched his leg.

“Don’t go!” you begged, looking up at him through another round of tears. “I’ll be good. I’ll read the books. I’ll do the experiments without crying—just stay. Please, just stay a little longer!”

Bucky froze, eyes widened in surprise. He looked down at your hands wrapped around his leg. A part of him wanted to laugh at this little attempt of yours. You were a just a weak, fragile thing. He could push you off and leave—it’d be so easy.

But instead of doing that, he just stayed put and smiled. He liked this. He liked the way you were anchored to his feet, reduced to a trembling mess at the mere thought of his absence.

Slowly, he sank back down to his knees until he was eye level with you again.

“You really don’t want me to go, do you?” he mused with a taunting purr. He reached out, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to look at the hunger in his eyes. “You want me to stay here with you? In this cold, dark basement? Keeping you warm?”

You nodded frantically, a sob catching in your throat.

“Tell me then,” he prompted, his thumb tracing your jaw. “How bad do you want it? What are you willing to do to keep me here tonight?”

“Anything,” you admitted desperately. “I’ll do anything.”

“Oh,” Bucky’s smile grew wide. “You shouldn’t have said that.”

You tried to keep a brave face, to hold your ground, but the relief was too great.

Bucky let out a short, amused huff as he reached down, hooking his hands under your arms to haul you up from the floor. “Okay, fine. You win.”

He stood back and reached for his neck, slowly loosening the knot of his tie. You watched, mesmerized and trembling, as he pulled the silk from his collar and draped it over the back of the lone chair in the room. His fingers moved to the top button of his white shirt, then the next, and the next, until they were all unbuttoned.

Then he moved to his belt. The sounds of it making you shiver.

“I’ll stay with you,” he promised, his tone as sweet as honey—designed to make you feel safe, even when you shouldn’t.

He folded the leather belt slowly. Painfully slow, his eyes never leaving yours.

“And before I head to the facility, I’ll do a quick experiment on you tomorrow. We’ll fix those headaches and get your reading memory back on track, okay?”

With one hand still gripping the belt, he stepped closer. His free hand cupped your face, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Think of it as my way of apologizing for my little outburst earlier,” he murmured against your skin. “I just want you to be perfect. I want you to be happy.”

He wasn’t leaving.

He was going to fix you.

You leaned into his touch as a small, fragile smile broke across your face. The tears you had shed before were no longer born of frustration—they were tears of relief.

“I love you, Bucky,” you whispered.

Bucky’s hand settled behind your head, rubbing gently to soothe you—the way a master might pet a loyal dog. He nodded towards the small cot in the corner.

“Lay down, doll.”

The light in the basement was always the same—artificial and blinding through the fluorescent tubes. After several blinks, you managed to force your eyes open against the piercing white light.

You let out a garbled groan. Your limbs felt extremely heavy, as if you were trying to move through deep water.

“Easy, doll. Easy.”

A deep, gentle voice cooed nearby. The cot creaked slightly as he sat beside you. As your vision cleared, you saw Bucky. He was already back in his professional attire—white sleeves rolled up his strong forearms. The room already smelled like he had his morning coffee.

He looked refreshed, while you felt like you had been disassembled and put back together again.

Which… in a way, you had.

Your fingers drifted up to the pain that throbbed in the back of your neck. You shuddered at the feel of the surgical tape and the fresh incision.

“The experiment went perfectly,” he said gently, his fingers replacing yours to check the bandage. “Your reading should be much sharper once the grogginess fades.”

You couldn’t even find the energy to be upset about him drugging you in the middle of the night—even if you should have spent those hours cuddling instead. The only thing that mattered was that he actually stayed.

“You’re still here,” you rasped, your throat scratchy and dry. A weak, hazy smile pulled at your lips.

Bucky smiled. He reached for a glass of water on the tray, holding it to your lips so you didn’t have to lift your head.

“I told you I would stay, didn’t I? I’m a man of my word.” He watched you drink, smiling as your dried lips softened from the liquid and the delicate column of your throat bobbed as you swallowed. “I even stayed through the morning to monitor your vitals. I’m going to be a little late to the facility, but for you? My baby? It’s all worth it.”

You leaned your head against his leg with a soft, content sigh. “Thank you for staying with me.”

“Always,” he whispered back, his thumb tracing over your cheek. “I have to go now—but when I’m gone, I want you to go back to reading your books.”

Disappointment settled in your chest, but the chemically induced state you were in made it too straining to fight back.

“I’ll be back soon with your breakfast.”

You didn’t care about food. All you cared about was Bucky. He was your true sustenance.

“How long?” you rasped, blinking up at him.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Alright?”

He leaned down to press a kiss to your temple. The cot creaked again as he stood up, and the sudden loss of his warmth made your heart clench painfully—more painful than the throb in your head.

“I love you, baby,” Bucky said, grabbing his blazer from the chair and heading for the door. “Be a good girl while I’m gone, okay?”

You nodded, and he offered a handsome smile. Then, he pulled the door open and shut it softly. The click of the lock on the other side finalized his goodbye, leaving you alone once again.

Bucky walked quickly from the hospital’s sub-level entrance, hurrying across the grounds toward the main facility. He looked like any other dedicated researcher running late for a briefing, but every time he left you, his mind remained back in the basement.

His mind was always on you.

His fingers fumbled with the middle button of his blazer as he forced his breathing to level out. He couldn’t afford to look ruffled. He turned a sharp corner near the east wing, head down as he adjusted his cuffs, and bumped squarely into another man.

“Woah, easy there, Buck.”

Bucky didn’t need to look up to recognize the voice.

“Steve,” Bucky exhaled, finishing the last button on his blazer with a tug. “Didn’t see you there. You’re up early.”

Steve’s gaze focused on the dark circles under Bucky’s eyes. “The shift change was a while ago,” Steve explained quietly. “I tried to page your office, but you weren’t there.”

Bucky waved a hand dismissively, stepping around Steve to keep moving towards his designated workstation. “Dead battery. I stayed late last night—lost track of time in the mounting data sheets—”

Steve extended his hand, landing on Bucky’s shoulder and forcing him to halt.

“You smell like…” Steve scrunched his nose. “Rubbing alcohol? Acetonitrile? That’s some heavy duty solvent for someone just looking at paperwork.”

Bucky’s heart let out a traitorous little thump. He gave Steve a deadpan look. “It’s a research hospital, Steve. What else am I supposed to smell like?”

Steve let go, but the look he gave his friend was anything but convinced. “You look exhausted. You’ve been spending every spare second in the south wing,” he sighed. “You’re my friend—and I worry about you, is all.”

Bucky averted his gaze. He didn’t have time for small talk. He had to review the latest labs and then fetch your breakfast. The longer he stayed out here, the longer you went hungry. Especially after the surgery, you needed to eat to recover properly.

“If there’s anything I can do to help loosen your load, even just a little bit, you know I’m always here.” Steve stepped closer, his voice lowering. “‘Till the end of the line, right?”

Bucky clenched his jaw. “Thanks, Steve. But I don’t need your help. I’m perfectly fine working alone,” he said, moving past him. Without looking back, he added, “I’ll let you know if my projects call for additional assistance.”

A few hours had passed, and ever since that interaction, it felt as though the universe had cursed Bucky with a jinx.

It was supposed to be a brief meeting—a few papers to peer review, perhaps a few charts to sign off on.

Christ, you were probably starving.

He could already picture it—your stomach curling in on itself, groaning and painful. He imagined your fragile arms wrapped around your belly as you cried in hunger. With the desperation that hunger brought, you might be clawing at your own skin. And since your body wasn’t being supplied with the nutrients it needed to recover, the post surgery throbbing in your head must be unbearable.

You could be pulling your hair or banging your head against the wall at this very second—and he wasn’t there to stop you.

He stared at the man sitting across from him. His boss’s frames kept slipping down his nose. His hair had more grease than the fast food joints across the street. His grimy hands shifted through the pages slowly. Painfully slow.

Bucky sat rigid, his foot tapping impatiently against the floor. He couldn’t dismiss himself—this was his superior, for fuck’s sake. But the longer he sat there, restless and useless, the more his mind spiraled.

His eyes flickered from his boss, to the clock, to the door.

“Is something bothering you, Barnes?”

Bucky swallowed hard. “Just… need to use the restroom.”

The man’s eyes rose sluggishly to meet Bucky’s. He paused—a silence long enough for Bucky to have gone and returned already. “Make it quick.”

Bucky pushed himself out of the chair, the legs let out a loud creak. He lunged for the door. He thought about sprinting to the canteen to fetch you something, but it was all the way across the facility. He didn’t have the time.

“Fuck, fuck!” Bucky hissed to himself, pacing the hall just outside the office.

The sound of approaching footsteps echoed nearby. Then, salvation appeared.

“Bucky? You doing alright?” Steve asked, glancing up from his papers to find his friend in visible distress.

Bucky froze, his breath getting stuck in his throat. Steve. The very man who had been with him through everything. Before he even came to the facility. Before he even made you. Steve was the one person he could trust with his life.

So why not trust him with yours? Just for the time being?

“Steve,” Bucky started with a frantic voice. The words tumbled out in a breathless ramble. “I need—I need your help. I’m stuck in a meeting with that grease trap Henderson, and she’s starving. She hasn’t eaten before the procedure and I can’t leave, but if she doesn’t get nutrients now, the rejection levels will spike and I’ll lose all progress—”

Steve blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Wait, what?” He shook his head. “Who are you talking about? What procedure?”

Bucky stepped closer, grabbing Steve’s forearm with a grip so tight, it made him grunt.

“The south wing, sub-levels. Level four. I have her there, Steve. A woman—” Bucky glanced over his friend’s shoulder, making sure the coast was clear before continuing. “I’ve been… helping her, fixing her. But I have her locked in for her own safety, and I can’t get to the canteen and back without Henderson noticing I’m gone.”

Steve looked at Bucky as if he were seeing a stranger instead of a friend. “Locked in? Bucky, what the hell are you talking about? There are no active patients registered in the sub-levels. If you found someone who needs medical attention, we need to report this to the board immediately—”

“No!” Bucky hissed, eyes wide and wild. “No reports, and absolutely no boards. They’ll take her away, Steve. Please. I need you to help me. You said ‘till the end of the line’, didn’t you?”

Steve stood there, frozen with the papers in his hands.

“A woman,” Steve repeated quietly. “In the basement.”

“She’s my everything,” Bucky pleaded with a vulnerability that Steve has never seen before. “Just get a tray. High protein—soft foods. Use your clearance to bypass the canteen line. She’ll try to talk to you—but don’t entertain her. Just… give her her food, make sure she didn’t hurt herself while I was gone, and then leave quietly, okay?”

Steve let out a long breath.

He looked around the hall, checking for witnesses, before turning back to Bucky with a grim, reluctant nod.

“Fine,” Steve whispered. “I’ll get the food. But Bucky… we are talking about this the second you get out of that meeting. All of it.”

“Thank you,” Bucky exhaled, a sob of relief nearly escaping him.

He quickly shoved the keys to your room in Steve’s hand.

“Thank you, Steve. I knew I could trust you.”

It had been hours since Bucky left. You were curled on the edge of the cot, arms wrapped tightly around your growling stomach, trying to breathe through the nausea of starvation.

The grumbling was unbearable. You couldn’t have slept the hunger away even if you wanted to. It felt as though your stomach were eating itself from the inside out. Had Bucky forgotten you? He had broken his promise—but he said he was a man of his word. So where was he?

The sound of keys and the lock being undone sounded like music. Your heart gave a hopeful leap. Bucky always knocked—three soft, gentle taps that signaled he was coming to take care of you.

Unless you were asleep, he always waited for you to call out “come in!” to let him know you were ready to be his good girl again.

But this time, there was only silence before the door creaked open.

You didn’t care about the lack of a knock. You were too desperate, too hungry, and too lonely. You scrambled off the cot, your legs feeling like jelly as you rushed towards the door.

“Bucky! You’re back, I—”

You stopped.

The man standing in the doorway wasn’t Bucky. But he was as tall as Bucky, dressed in a white button up similar to Bucky’s, but it wasn’t him. He held a tray of food, but the stranger’s presence made you too terrified to reach for it.

Your breath hitched, a panicked wheeze leaving your lips as you scrambled backwards. Your heels dragged against the tile floor until your back hit the corner of the wall.

“Who are you!” you gasped, your bandaged hands coming up to shield your face. “Who are you? Where is he? Where’s Bucky?”

The man froze, his blue eyes widening in horror as he took in the sight of you—the surgical tape on your neck, the oversized gown, and the way you were cowering like a wounded animal.

Steve knew he shouldn’t speak to you, that had been Bucky's direct order. But he couldn’t fight his own instincts.

“Hey, hey… easy,” Steve cooed. He stayed by the door, slowly lowering the tray to a nearby table to show his hands were empty. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”

Despite the man’s kind and gentle tone, you couldn’t help the panic flaring in your heart.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you sobbed, pressing yourself harder into the corner. “He said… he said I’m not supposed to see anyone. He’s going to be so angry.”

“Bucky sent me,” Steve explained softly, taking a cautious step. “My name is Steve. I’m Bucky’s friend. He’s stuck in a meeting and he was worried about you. He told me you needed to eat.”

You sniffled. “… Worried about me?”

He reached for a piece of bread from the tray and held it out toward you, not moving any closer. “I know you’re scared. And I know you’re hurting. But you need to eat, okay? Then I’ll be on my way.”

You swallowed hard, glancing at the bread. He had spoken you so kindly, so soft and gentle, and to you, that felt like salvation in this lonely and cold room. Even if it wasn’t Bucky.

You took a hesitant step forward while Steve stayed still. He didn’t move until you approached him, treating you as if you were a stray cat. You grabbed the loaf with trembling hands, gave him a wary look, and he smiled.

“Not poisoned. Trust me.”

He tried to joke, but you didn’t laugh.

After a few seconds, you bit into the bread, letting the taste linger on your tongue.

Then, you started scarfing it down like a rabid animal.

Steve stood there, staring at you dumbfound as you ate. Without looking at him, you began to ravish everything else on the tray with your bare hands. He could only stumble back and watch in horror.

As you were occupied with the food, he took a mental note of your state. Your legs were marked with rows of stitches. Your skin was tainted with burn marks and various scars. You had bandages wrapped around your hands, wrists, ankles, and neck. Bruises decorated your body.

You looked exactly like a woman who had been plucked from the grave and brought back to life, but you were hardly living.

It didn’t take long for you to finish. When you finally looked up, you stared at Steve, waiting for him to disappear back through the door.

“I know I said I’d be on my way after you ate,” Steve explained slowly. “But Bucky also wanted me to check on your…”

He paused. He didn’t know what Bucky wanted him to check on exactly, but looking at you, it seemed as though everything needed to be checked. For now, he pointed to the freshly wrapped bandage around your neck.

“He just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

When you didn’t respond, he took it as a sign to step closer. You scrambled back immediately, and his gaze softened.

“I know this is scary for you. You haven’t seen or spoken to anyone besides Bucky, isn’t that right?”

You stayed silent.

“Have you ever been outside this room?”

Your eyes flickered to the door, then back to Steve. You slowly shook your head no.

“Well, the outside world is beautiful,” he began, speaking in a gentle tone. “There are lots of trees, flowers… animals. Like squirrels. You’d like the squirrels, they’re just like you—always scurrying around, especially in the courtyards.”

With each word, he moved closer.

Mentally, Steve was cursing himself.

He was a man of honor, yet he was currently violating his best friend’s trust while feeding a captive woman—Bucky’s woman—empty promises he wasn’t sure he could keep. He was falling back on his own medical training, using the standard practices he’d honed over years of patient care, hoping the routine would calm you as it did his other patients.

“Maybe Bucky will let you see it for yourself one day,” he lied. “But right now, your body is in no state for it. You’re fragile.”

He was close enough now to see the faint blossoming of blood staining your bandages.

“That’s why I’m here—to check on you,” he said, reaching out a hand slowly, palm up. “I just want to see how the stitches are holding up. If Bucky’s friend helps you, you’ll get stronger faster. And the stronger you get, the sooner you can go outside. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

You hesitated, your back still pressed against the cold wall.

“Bucky wouldn’t want you to touch me,” you admitted softly. “He always calls me his perfect girl—his good girl. He likes that I’m untainted and untouched by anyone else.”

Steve paused, his eyes widening slightly.

Ah. There it was.

That was how he could get through to you.

Against his better judgment and his friend’s wishes, he brought his hand up to your cheek. It was a gentle, steady touch—the kind of contact you had been waiting for all day.

“Just a quick look,” Steve whispered. “Just so I can tell Bucky you were being a perfect, good girl for him.”

You shuddered under his touch, your eyes closing slowly as you leaned into his palm.

That was all you wanted—to be Bucky’s good girl.

“Okay,” you nodded. “You can check me.”

You reached for the hem of your oversized gown and lifted it, baring yourself to Steve.

To you, this was simply the natural sequence of events. There was no shame in your movements, only the ingrained memory of how your sessions with Bucky always concluded.

The check up was just a prelude. The intimate inspection that followed was the reward.

Steve’s breath hitched, his face turning a bright shade of red when he realized what you were doing.

“No! No, no, no. You don’t have to do that!” he stammered, wrenching his head away. “I just… I just need to see the bandages. Just the neck and wrists. Keep—keep your clothes on, please.”

He was trying so hard to be a gentleman, his movements jerky and awkward.

“Bucky always tells me to undress so he can check me properly,” you said softly.

That concerned Steve. He let out a sigh. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen naked patients before, but this was different. He told himself all he had to do was check your stitches and leave. Quickly.

“Fine,” Steve rasped. His eyes tried his best to stay focused on your neck—not the curve of your breasts or hips, or the innocence of your bare slit between your thighs.

He stepped closer and his fingers traced the stitches of your neck.

His eyes met yours briefly, and his heart raced.

You had such a hazy, expectant look in your eyes.

“Okay,” Steve choked out, his voice cracking as he stepped back to put a safe distance between you. “I’m done. The stitches look... they look clean. I’m going to go now.”

As he turned to grab the empty tray, you moved.

You cupped his face the way Bucky always did with yours and pressed your lips against his.

Steve froze, his eyes nearly bulging out of his skull. His hands found your shoulders, giving you gentle shove that forced you back onto the edge of the cot with a yelp.

“No,” he panted, his chest heaving as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “No, we can’t—I’m his friend, I’m not... why did you do that?”

You tilted your head, your brows furrowing in confusion.

“Because the check up isn’t finished,” you explained softly, your voice small and defensive. “Bucky says the examination isn’t over until he’s had his fill. He says that’s how I show him I'm getting better.”

“His fill?” Steve looked concerned.

“He says it’s part of the treatment,” you added, leaning forward slightly, searching Steve's face for the approval you were used to receiving. “Don’t you want to see if I’m better, Steve? Don’t you want your fill?”

The air left Steve's lungs.

His eyes traced down your body shamelessly this time—but not for the reason you expected. He took note of the faint bruises around your waist and thighs, and he felt sick.

Quickly, he crouched until he was eye level with you from where you were sitting on the cot. He clutched your shoulders, and you winced.

“Tell me,” Steve urged. “What is Bucky doing to you? Why are you in this state? How long have you been here?”

“I—I don’t—”

“Did he rape you?”

Steve expected a reaction—the typical trauma response to a word that heavy. Most victims would never confess it outright, but he could make out the answer from your reaction if you gave him one.

But all you did was blink at him as if he were speaking a foreign tongue.

“What does that mean?”

Steve didn’t know what to say. He let out a breath of exasperation and stood up. He couldn’t help you now, not with the risk of Bucky’s meeting ending at any moment.

“I have to go, but I’ll be back, okay? I’ll be back to get you the professional help you need.” Steve grabbed the tray and hurried to the door, his hand trembling on the handle. “Don’t tell Bucky what I told you. Please.”

The door shut quickly as he left.

But the lock didn’t click.

The hours following Steve’s departure were the longest of your life. You tried to do as Bucky asked—to sit on your cot and lose yourself in the pages of your books—but you couldn’t retain anything.

Your mind kept drifting back to Steve.

You liked the way he touched your cheek. He spoke of squirrels and trees and a world that Bucky never mentioned. Your gaze drifted to the door, and for the first time, it didn’t look like a shield protecting you from the world—as Bucky liked to call it.

It looked like an obstacle.

You knew you needed to stay put and wait for Bucky, but you couldn’t. You stood up and pushed through the door, moving carefully and slowly.

The hallway was bright, and as you wandered out, your bare feet felt freezing against the tiles. You didn’t know where the trees were, but you followed the hall, hoping it would lead to the courtyard Steve had mentioned.

You could already imagine it—running through the grass with Bucky, chasing the squirrels. A smile ghosted over your lips despite the tremor in your heart.

Then, a shadow fell over you.

“Going somewhere?”

You spun around at the familiar voice, a smile on your face so wide it made your cheeks hurt. “Bucky! You’re back! I was looking for the courtyard, I—”

The smile died the moment you saw his face. Bucky wasn’t happy. He had that scowl, the look you recognized whenever he was displeased, except now it was multiplied tenfold. His gaze was harsh enough to kill, and you could only imagine what he would do to you next.

His hand clamped around your upper arm, forcing you to cry out.

“Bucky, you’re hurting me!”

He hauled you back, dragging you down the hall towards where you had come from. He was breathing like an animal, his eyes darting around crazily to ensure the corridors remained empty—no witnesses.

He threw you back into the basement room, the door slamming shut as he locked it from the inside. He approached you as you collapsed onto the cot.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he hissed in your face, his hands tugging at his hair in frustration. “What’s this talk about a courtyard? What was the plan, huh? To just walk out? To show everyone in this facility what I’ve been doing?”

“I just wanted to see—”

“After everything I’ve done for you!” Bucky roared, lunging to grab your shoulders and shaking you once, hard. “I saved you! I rebuilt you! I spent every cent, every hour, every ounce of my goddamn soul making sure you were perfect. And you’re choosing to run? You’re choosing to escape me?”

“No, Bucky, I—”

“You’re ungrateful!” He was spiraling, his eyes glazed with paranoia. “Someone saw you. Someone must have seen you. Who was it? Did you talk to someone? Was it the security feeds? I’ll have to wipe them. I’ll have to start over.”

You flinched at his cruel words. The pain in your arm was unbearable, but his accusations hurt more.

“No one saw me—”

“You can’t be certain!” he screamed in your face.

When he saw the tears welling in your eyes, he backed off slightly. His heart was beating furiously, and he didn’t foresee his temper cooling anytime soon. He let out a heavy sigh, releasing your shoulders. He couldn’t believe Steve had forgotten to lock the door—and now, he had filled your head with stupid ideas of going outside.

“I have to operate on you again,” Bucky said, walking to his desk. He removed his blazer and began rolling up his sleeves. “It’s a shame, really. I didn’t anticipate working on you so soon after your recent experiment.” He reached for the gloves, jerking them on. “I should even lower the dosage of the drugs, just so you could feel just an ounce of the pain I felt when I found you in the hallway.”

He glanced at you quickly before looking back at his tools.

“You did this to yourself, darling.”

You quickly scrambled off the cot, rushing to him and wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. “Please! I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to disobey you, I swear! I—”

“I’ve been gentle with you,” Bucky said, his voice flat as he reached for a needle on the tray. He didn't even turn to look at you. “Maybe even too gentle.”

You held onto him tighter, burying your face into the expanse of his back as the fabric of his shirt dampened with your tears.

“Please, Bucky, please!” you sobbed. “I missed you so much. I was being so good all day. I read the books, just like you told me. I didn’t hurt myself. But it was so cold and so lonely.. and—and you were gone for so long. I just needed you. I just wanted to find you.”

Bucky didn’t move.

The hand reaching for the syringe hovered in the air, his fingers twitching. For a long moment, the only sound in the room was your crying. He looked down at the needle, then slowly, he pulled his hand back.

“You broke my heart,” he whispered. “You think your fruitless words mean anything to me now? After I found you wandering those halls like I meant nothing to you?”

“I didn’t—”

“Actions speak louder,” he snapped, still facing away. “What will you do to make up to me?”

“Anything,” you sobbed against his shirt. “Anything, Bucky. Just don’t hurt me. Don’t operate on me—please. I’ll do anything.”

Bucky stared at the wall, then at the needle, as if contemplating. Without turning around, his hands moved to his waist, the belt buckle echoing in the room as he undid the lather strap with slow movements.

“Put your hands over the bed,” he commanded. “Bend over.”

Your breath hitched in anticipation. You wasted no time rushing to the cot, placing your hands over the edge and bending over—exactly as instructed.

Your heart fought in your chest as you heard Bucky’s footsteps approach from behind. You heard the clinking of the belt in his hands, and then the air hit your skin as he lifted your gown, baring your bottom to his gaze.

The cold leather of his belt dragged slowly across your skin, and you shuddered, bracing yourself.

“Are you scared?” he murmured from behind you.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling so much it was barely heard. “Yes, Bucky. I’m scared.”

He leaned in closer, his chest brushing your back. You could feel the warmth, the scent of his cologne. When he spoke again, his voice was a low rasp against your ear.

“Good,” he breathed. “Fear is the beginning of wisdom, darling. It means you’re finally remembering who I am to you. It means you’re remembering that the world outside is just a fantasy, and this—this room, this bed, and my hand on you—is the only reality you have.”

He paused, the leather belt going still against your thigh.

“I didn’t want to do this,” he lied, smooth and deceptive. “But you forced my hand. I have to drive those silly thoughts out of your head before they ruin you completely. Before they ruin us.”

The belt lifted away from your skin, then came down hard with a whack against your bottom, jolting you and making you yelp.

“You’re so confused now, aren’t you, darling? I have a friend—my best friend come feed you, and suddenly you think you’re free to wander about? He was a fool. And so are you.”

Another whack.

“Ow!”

“It’s disappointing, really. I thought we were further along, doll. I thought you understood that you’re far too fragile for the sun. You’d wither like a flower, my perfect girl.”

Then another, and you let out a soft and shaky moan that was more breath than sound.

He leaned over you, the belt resting lightly against the back of your thighs as he watched the way your body reacted. He was being mean—his words were supposed to make you feel small, stupid, and utterly dependent—but to you, the condescension only felt like a caress.

With every smack, every word, you were arching your back and pressing yourself into him.

“Look at you,” he whispered, his hand reaching down to tickle the inner curve of your thigh. “I’m punishing you for being a bad, ungrateful girl, and yet..”

He paused, his fingers sinking lower and brushing against the wetness between your legs. It was slick, his middle finger gliding right through the folds. You gasped as he poked his finger against the entrance, and he could already feel you clench.

“You’re soaking wet for me,” he voiced in a way that sounded like disgust. “Even when I’m hurting you, you’re begging for me. Is this what you wanted when you walked out that door? To be caught and punished by your Daddy?”

Your face warmed with embarrassment. “No! I swear, I didn’t—”

Your words were replaced by a shameless moan when you felt Bucky’s finger slip into your entrance. He was only halfway in, yet he slid into you so easily. The way you stretched to accommodate his fingers was a testament to how much you needed him.

Bucky snarled against your ear. He was disappointed. He hated your denial—especially when your own body was betraying you, your hips rocking back to sink his finger deeper into your needy cunt.

But more than that, he hated how hard he was getting. He hated how much he wanted to rip his pants down and fuck you so hard that you’d be left crying and begging for his forgiveness.

“You could have it so easy if you just told me the truth,” he taunted. “But you like the struggle, don’t you? You like the attention—whether it’s good or bad. And you especially like it when Daddy’s being mean to you.”

He withdrew his finger slowly, the loss making you whine. His hands settled at your hips, he lifted you until you were standing on your tippy toes.

“Look at how you’re leaking for me,” he mocked, his eyes dark as he examined you. “A little attention from Steve, a little walk in the hall, and you come back to me looking like this. You’re like a little animal, aren’t you? So confused, so easily worked up by the first human who shows you a bit of kindness.”

Bucky grabbed your hands, wrenching them behind your back. He worked quickly, looping the leather belt around your wrists and cinching it tight.

You winced at the pressure as he restrained you, leaving you even more helpless than you were before.

“You’re right,” you whispered, face pressed against the cot. “I’m helpless. I can’t… I can’t function without you, Bucky. Please don’t leave me again. Hurt me. Kiss me. Just do anything so I don’t feel empty.”

Bucky hummed in approval.

He took a step back, and you heard the rustle of fabric and a zipper sliding down from behind. He didn’t utter a single word as he freed himself, but the sudden change in his breathing told you everything.

He began to stroke himself slowly. The sound was agonizing—that silky friction of his palm against his shaft, the shlick shlick noises of him spreading his pre-cum over and around his tip.

Every slide of his hand made you want to turn your head to look, to witness him in this state, but you knew better than to move.

You clenched your thighs together, your cunt pulsing as it reacted to the filthy noises. You were desperate to feel him, but you remained bound and helpless—exactly where he wanted you.

“Fuck,” he cursed, his breathing labored as he jerked himself off faster. “I should just finish right now. Let it all my cum drip to the floor—leave it there for you to stare at while I walk back out that door.”

His breathing grew even heavier. His movements quickening as he fucked his fist.

“But you’re so needy, aren’t you?” he whispered. “You wouldn’t let a single drop go to waste, would you, doll? You’d fall to your knees and lick it right off the tiles like my little pet, just to have a taste of me.”

You shuddered as his footsteps neared, flinching when his hand came up to cup your chin. He forced you to arch your back, making you strain to look up at him from over your shoulder.

“Is that what you are? My little pet?” He pressed the head of his cock against the curve of your ass, subtly rocking his hips forward. “My sweet girl that only functions when I’m inside her?”

“Bucky,” you breathed, squeezing your eyes shut. “Please. I can’t take this anymore.”

“Since you wanted to wander those halls so badly, I’m going to make sure you don’t have the strength to do it again. I’m going to fuck you so hard, doll, that you won’t be able to stand on those pretty legs for a week.”

One heavy hand landed on your hip, squeezing the flesh tight to hold you steady, while the other gripped his length, positioning himself at your entrance.

Then, surprisingly slow, he began to slide in.

The sensation was overwhelming. He was big—far too big. He knew you were fragile, and despite his harsh words, he didn’t want to truly break you just yet. That would ruin all the fun.

The stretch was slow and agonizing, yet perfect. You let out a broken sob, your fingers clawing at the thin mattress of the cot as your body was forced to accommodate him. He was thick, filling every inch of you, stretching you until you felt like you might break, yet your muscles tightened around him desperately—clinging to him like a hug that refused to let go.

“God,” Bucky hissed, his face twisting in both pain and pleasure. “So tight—even after last night…”

He kept pushing until he was completely sheathed inside, his dark curls tickling the curve of your ass when his pelvis finally met your bottom. He stilled there, his chest rising and falling as he waited for your body to accommodate him.

You could feel every ridge, every pulse inside, and in that moment, you wanted to cry.

You were so happy. Moments like this made your heart feel too big for your chest—because, despite everything, you were becoming one with the man you loved so dearly.

“Look at you,” he groaned possessively. “Taking all of it. Built just to hold me. Designed to take every inch... even if it hurts.”

Bucky began to move, his hips rocking violently as he started fucking you like an animal starved—as if he had been starving for this even longer than you had.

His hips slapped vulgarly against yours, and your eyes widened at the sudden, cruel change of pace.

“Oh—my!”

The cot beneath you began to groan, the frame creaking and rattling against the floor and the wall with every thrust Bucky gave you.

He leaned forward until his chest was against your back, his hand reaching around to grip the belt binding your wrists, using it like a handle to wrench your arms higher and force your chest deeper into the flimsy mattress.

“One taste of my cock and you’ve already forgotten everything that fool Steve told you, haven’t you?”

His pace became erratic, using your body like a sex toy. You were cock drunk for him, you were being his perfect, restrained little pet, your face buried in the cot pathetically while he claimed every inch of your body.

“You’re so pathetic, sweetheart,” he whispered affectionately and cruel. “Completely helpless. You can’t even touch yourself while I do this to you. You have to just lie there and take whatever I decide to give you.”

He slammed into you again, his cock rubbing deliciously against your tight, wet walls as they squeezed him for dear life.

“Ah, fuck... maybe if you keep being a good girl, I’ll let you suck on it later. How does that sound, hm?”

You nodded desperately against the cot, and mewling was the only answer you could manage.

The mere idea of being allowed to serve him like that—to have him look at you with something other than disappointment—it was all enough to make your head spin.

Bucky laughed darkly, you could feel his stomach vibrating as he was pushed up against your back.

“That’s it,” he growled. “Good girl. Daddy loves you, baby.”

Tears of overwhelmed pleasure started to spill down your cheeks at his admission.

He loved you.

Those four words were enough to make you fall apart right then and there as his approval was far more intoxicating than the pain and pleasure.

“Really? I—I love you too! I love you so much!” you squealed. Your cunt clenched around his shaft—squeezing him tight as if your body could prove just how much you loved him back. “I love you so much, Bucky. I love you. I love you.”

Bucky drawled out a long, tortured groan at the feel of you squeezing him. Buried deep inside you, he could feel you trembling, your body wound so tight it was nearly unbearable.

“That’s it,” Bucky cooed, his pace losing its rhythm as he fucked into you harder—chasing that delicious, sweet release. “You’re never going to walk away again.”

He leaned down, his pressing against your sweaty shoulder as he poured his devotions into your ear.

“I love you. Do you hear me? I love you more than anything. I’m the only thing you need. Just me and my love. You’re never leaving me again, doll. You’re staying right here where you’re safe—where you’re mine.”

He was chanting it now, a litany of possession that made your eyes roll back as you started to see stars.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

“Don’t you ever leave me,” he growled, his hand tightening on the belt and jerking your bound wrists one last time. “Tell me you’re staying! Tell me!”

You couldn’t hold back anymore. He was fucking you so thoroughly, telling you exactly how much you meant to him, and you were desperate to show him he was your entire world.

“I’m staying! I’m yours!” you sobbed before you cried out in a pleasure that was so hot—it made you dizzy. Clenching your legs together, your pussy pulsed and convulsed as you let the pleasure wash all over your body.

Your entire frame shook and trembled, but Bucky didn’t let up. Every shake and vibration from you was just a stroke to his own pleasure, and before long, he buried himself as deep as he could go, his cock painting your pussy with his cum.

It was hot. It was too much.

He stilled, remaining plunged inside as he fought for his breath. Silence consumed the room. Then, the sounds of his seed—spilling out of your abused pussy and onto the tile floors took over.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Like a clock.

Bucky shuddered against your neck, the heat of his breath tickling you. He stayed draped over you as he slowly began to press soft kisses to your cheek, then to the curve of your jaw.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his thumb tracing your bare lower back while you warmed his cock with your body.

“My good, sweet girl. You did so well for Daddy. You always do.”

The atmosphere of the following morning was nothing like the night before.

Bucky had stayed the night with you. Again.

You were tucked over his arm, your head resting against his shoulder as you traced idle, wandering patterns across his bare chest. He was snoring peacefully, a soft sound that filled the quiet room.

Your heart felt full as you stared up at him with wide, adoring eyes.

His chest rose and fell in perfect time with his breathing, and you snuggled closer to his side.

“I love you,” you murmured, your finger tracing the outline of his abs. “I love you so much.”

Bucky slowly blinked awake, his eyelashes fluttering before he finally looked down at you. His eyes were clouded with the hazy, peaceful fog of a deep sleep he rarely ever got to enjoy.

“Morning,” he rasped.

A small, tired smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he took you in, his eyes softening at your adoring expression. “My girl.”

He slid his arm further under your neck, hooking his hand around your shoulder to pull you in until you were pressed tight against his side. He tucked his chin over the top of your head, nuzzling into your hair with a contented groan.

“Stay right there,” he murmured, his eyes drifting shut again as he squeezed you against him. “Don’t move. Just let Daddy hold you for a minute.”

And so you did. You both lay there for a long time, soft and snuggled up in each other’s arms.

But the peace, the silence, and the comfort didn’t last long.

The door—the one Bucky always made sure to lock with such clinical precision—was suddenly eclipsed by a violent crash that you made flinch.

Bucky bolted up, his body going rigid as his eyes snapped wide to the door.

“Bucky?” you gasped in fear, clutching his side. “What… what is that?”

“Fuck! Fuck!” Bucky hissed, the panic in his voice only startling you more. He threw his arm across your chest—not in a cuddle, but as a barrier, pinning you firmly behind his large body—as if hiding you.

He turned his head to catch your eye, a look in his blue orbs that you’ve never seen before. “Don’t—don’t say anything, got it? Not even a single breath of a fucking word.”

The door was kicked open, and a blinding flood of tactical lights and shouting turned your once private sanctuary into a war zone.

“He’s here! Target identified! Get him off her!”

Men in dark tactical gear you had never seen before swarmed the room, taking over the space that had once belonged purely to you and Bucky.

Before you could even process the intrusion, several agents tackled the very man who had been protecting you. The cot creaked and groaned as he fought to stay by your side, but even his strength was useless against so many men.

“Get your hands off me! Get away from her!” he roared, his voice louder and more frantic than you had ever heard it. He was terrified. You had never seen him lose control like this.

“She’s mine! You have no right—she’s mine!”

Bucky was going insane, fighting and kicking against the restraints of the officers. Everything happened so fast as the room blurred into chaos.

All you could do was sit there on the edge of the mattress and sob, reaching out for him in a confused daze.

“Bucky—”

Before your fingers could even brush his back, Steve was already there.

He pulled you into his arms, tucking your head against his chest to shield your eyes from the sight of the agents pinning Bucky to the cold tile floor.

“Don’t look,” Steve cooed, using that same comforting tone from the very first day you met. He held you tightly, his hand cupping the back of your head as he rocked you slightly to still your trembling. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, sweetheart. You’re safe now. I promise... he’s never going to touch you again.”

The sound of metal cuffs clicked in the room, accompanied by Bucky’s screams of your name.

“Get your fucking hands off of her!” Bucky seethed from the floor, his face pinned hard against the tile by a set of gloved hands.

“You traitor!” he roared, the word tearing raw from his throat. “You fucking traitor!”

Steve tried his best to ignore his crying friend, clutching your body tighter against his. You began to sob, your fingers clawing at Steve’s arm to let you go—to go back to him.

As the agents hauled Bucky towards the door, his feet scuffed and slid violently against the tile floor.

He twisted his head back, his hair a sweaty mess as his face was twisted in a rage that terrified you. Yet, despite the fear, his eyes stayed locked on yours until the very last second, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

“Don’t listen to a thing Steve tells you, baby!” Bucky screamed, fighting against the agents. “He doesn’t know you! He doesn’t love you like I do! He’s just trying to tear us apart—”

Even with a dozen people there to ‘protect’ you, guilt settled in your chest.

Was this all your fault?

Did this happen because you wandered the halls the other day? Because you had dared to talk to Steve?

“You belong to me—only me!” Bucky continued to roar, forcing you to listen to him instead of your useless train of thought. “Stop ignoring me—say something!”

All you could do was sniffle and sob, muttering broken apologies into Steve’s chest that Bucky couldn’t even hear over everything else that was going on.

“I’ll come back for you,” Bucky promised as they dragged him out. His voice rang through the cold hallways that had once been empty, but were now teeming with strangers. “I swear it—I’ll find you!”

Bucky and the men rounded the corner, and his shouts began to fade. The basement grew quieter. Much quieter.

Everything you’ve known and loved had been stripped away from you within seconds. What were you to do now? Who was going to take care of you? You wanted to hate Steve for doing this—but he said he was protecting you. But Bucky also promised you the same thing countless of times.

You didn’t know what was real—what was right or wrong, and you don’t think you ever will.

With the sudden and unexpected loss of his presence, your mind felt… lost. But deep in your gut, a feeling you tried so hard to suppress out of fear for betraying Bucky, you felt relief.

Steve let out a shaky breath, his shoulders finally dropping.

“He’s gone,” Steve whispered, his voice partnered with a guilt he couldn’t quite hide.

He sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as you.

“He’s gone, sweetheart. He’s never going to hurt you again.”

And for some reason, those very words only hurt you more.

The interrogation light shined directly into Bucky’s face, but he had grown so used to the glare that he no longer flinched.

Heavy cuffs bound his wrists, he only stared lifelessly at the metal biting into his skin. By now, the chains wrapped around his ankles felt as familiar as socks. His eyes were sunken into dark hollows, and his hair had grown out, lank and unkempt. You probably would have thought he looked ugly.

“James Barnes.” The man across from him sat down with a heavy huff.

His glasses were perched precariously on the bridge of his nose, and his pudgy fingers rifled through a thick stack of papers. With his greasy hair and impatient sighs, he looked exactly like Bucky’s previous boss, Henderson.

Bucky hated it.

The interrogator leaned back, watching the man across from him.

“The woman was dead before you found her,” the man began neutrally, his voice echoing off the sterile walls. “You robbed her grave, took her body, and performed several experiments on her—somehow managing to bring her back to life.”

Bucky stayed quiet.

“Where did you expect this experiment to go?” the man pressed, flipping a page in the file with a dismissive snap. “Would you have returned her to her family? To the friends she had before she passed?”

Bucky hadn’t blinked in three minutes, and hadn’t spoken for longer.

“What made you choose her, of all the other freshly buried bodies in that cemetery?”

Nothing. Not even a breath of a word.

“What was she to you?”

Bucky’s eyes remained hollow, his expression indifferent. He might as well already be dead.

“Did you love her?”

Bucky’s head tilted—just slightly.

Slowly, he lifted his eyes to meet the interrogator’s.

“More than anything,” Bucky replied.

He didn’t look away from the interrogator, but his mind was already miles outside the concrete walls of the facility.

Behind his hollow eyes, he was already calculating. He felt the metal around his wrists, but he didn’t feel trapped. He felt like a spring being pushed down, gathering all this tension until he inevitably snaps. He could see it clearly—the precise moment he would finally break free.

It had been years since has been held captive. Since everything was taken away from him.

He wondered what you were doing right now. Without him there to guide your schedule, were you lost?

He imagined you in a park somewhere. He pictured you chasing squirrels, or perhaps laying in the grass and staring at the sun until your eyes ached. Or maybe you were reading one of those books he used to leave by your bed. He hoped you were reading. It kept your mind active. The books were good for you.

He’d find you.

It wasn’t a question of if, only a matter of when. He’d knock on the door of your new home—three times. Then, like the perfect girl you always were for him, you’d reply with “come in!”

The interrogator cleared his throat, leaning in closer.

“James,” he called for him, bringing his attention back. “Would you classify yourself as ‘insane’?”

For the first time in years, Bucky’s lips quirked into a smile.

Insane?

What kind of question was that?

“No.”

anyway how writing this fic found me

if you've made it this far, as always thank you so much for taking the time to read my work. interactions are always appreciated, I love reading every bit of them!

I do not have a tag list. to get notified for fic updates, please follow @notify-superbassbuck and turn on notifications.

[rhettroblues]

I honestly don't know what the hell I'm doing. Whether I should stay or go, or where I should go, or why I'm even here. LEWIS PULLMAN as Cameron Cassmore REMARKABLY BRIGHT CREATURES (2026) — dir. Olivia Newman

[em1i2a3]

And here comes the beautiful gifs of the sad boi 2.0

[sentrysvoid]

Thunderbolts dir. Jake Schreier | 2025

[em1i2a3]

Yes, please show me (preferablyinmybedroomonmybedpleaseandthankyou)

[bigandlong]

If you see this on your dashboard, reblog this, NO MATTER WHAT and all your dreams and wishes will come true.

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

never let you go (1)

Summary: After losing the woman they love, Bucky and Steve make a desperate decision with unimaginable consequences. 

Characters: Stucky x Reader Warnings: Heavy angst. Brief character death (with a return). Violence, blood, demons, and gore. SMUT (m/f/m, brief m/m, masturbation). An appearance by everyone’s favorite Hunters (SPN crossover).

Prompt: “Heartache is one thing, but this…this is worse.”

A/N: This is my submission for the fantastic @sherrybaby14​ for Sherry’s Fall Into You challenge, thanks babe for hosting. This is a dark story fam, different than my usual writing. Bucky and Steve really do make some bad decisions, so please heed the warnings. This is a short series, only 2-3 parts.

Want to find all my stories? Search #bitsmasterlist or try the link in my bio!

*****

Looking back, it happened so fast.

Night was stealing over the horizon when the mission was officially called. Bad guys in handcuffs, team members safe, the world still turning. On the roof of a nearby office building, you stood between Bucky and Steve, smiling in relief.

Smiling, smiling, smiling.

You were smiling right before the bomb went off.

Later, Bucky remembers the shock on your face, the shape of Steve’s mouth screaming. He remembers that swoop in his belly, the weightless feel of wild loops on a rollercoaster. He remembers your piercing cry as the floor gave way beneath three pairs of boots, bodies knocking together in a choking sea of crumbling concrete and screeching steel.

Keep reading

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

never let you go masterlist

Summary: After losing the woman they love, Bucky and Steve make a desperate decision with unimaginable consequences. 

Keep reading

[waller-bridge]

This is the employment Steve, reblog for bountiful job opportunity.

[ivy1419-deactivated20230202]

I will receive 3 pieces of great news THIS WEEK. I claim it, manifest it & believe it

[prythiansprincess]

STRAWBERRY SPRINKLES | a theo nott fic.

"isn't it just like me to think i'm the only one in love?"

word count: 8,135.

summary: in which luca finds a new best friend and ropes his big brother theo into a world of strawberry sprinkles, secret gelato, and a starring role as prince charming.

author's note: remember when I said I was taking a break? ha! well that's over now, so get in babes because once again, it's time to yearn for theodore nott.

♫ candy wine - lostboycrow. nav. more theo.

Being a big brother was something Theo took quite seriously. 

When his mum broke the news of her pregnancy, Alessandra did everything she could to reassure Theo that he would always be her first baby boy, but it was hardly necessary. After years of being an only child, Theo was more than ready for a sibling. 

Besides, his mum deserved happiness after the trauma of dealing with his deadbeat father. Luckily, Alessandra finally left him and married her high school sweetheart. Theo’s stepfather Charlie was a wonderful man and judging by his lame and endearing dad jokes, he was on his way to becoming a wonderful father too. Charlie was already doing a great job of being the dad Theo always wished he had, so when little Luca was born, it felt like the missing puzzle piece to complete their family. 

In Theo’s opinion, his baby brother was absolutely perfect. The little runt had his mum’s eyes and his dad’s hair, but his personality was one hundred percent Theo. At five years old, Luca was a perfect carbon copy of his older brother and often mimicked Theo’s quirks and behavior in the most adorable way. Luca loved his big brother Teddy.

Even though Theo was busy with Uni, he made sure to schedule his classes so that he could still walk Luca to and from his primary school every day. Usually, his baby brother was a happy go lucky ball of energy, but today the little boy was unusually fidgety and unable to look his big brother in the eye. It reminded Theo of the time their mum caught Luca stealing cookies from the pantry before dinner. His baby brother reeked of guilt. 

It didn’t take long for Theo to figure out why. A few moments later, a girl his age came walking up to them with a little girl cradled on her hip. Theo recalled crossing paths with you during family night since your sister was in Luca’s grade as well. He watched with concern as you soothed your little sister and gently wiped her tears away.

“Hi, are you Luca’s dad?” 

Theo blinked. “I’m his brother.” 

You offered him a small smile. “I’m Y/N. This is my little sister Lily. I think she and Luca got into a bit of a tussle in the playground earlier and they’re both a little upset about it.” 

Luca frowned and hid behind his older brother’s legs. Theo kneeled down until they were eye to eye. “Is that true, bub?” 

His baby brother sniffled and nodded his head in shame. “Yes, but I didn’t mean to make Lily cry!” 

The tears in Luca’s eyes tugged at Theo’s heartstrings. He rubbed the young boy's back in soothing circles to comfort him. “Well, what happened?” 

“Lily's hair is pretty and curly and she had a pink ribbon on and I wanted to touch it, but she ran away from me and I pulled on it and she fell and started crying, but I didn’t mean to hurt her,” Luca said without taking a breath. The little frown on his face showed how upset he was. “I’m sorry Teddy, please don’t be mad at me.”

Luca sucked in air as Theo pulled him in for a tight hug. Though the little runt was a rambunctious kid, Theo knew that his brother would never purposely hurt anyone. “It’s okay, bub. I’m not mad. I know you didn’t mean to hurt Lily, but next time you have to ask for permission before you touch her bow, okay?” 

His brother blinked back tears. “O-o-okay.”

The gentle parenting of it all warmed your heart. Despite their age difference, it was clear that the brothers were quite close. It surprised you to find another set of siblings who had as much of an age gap as you and your sister, so you could definitely relate. 

Lily was a miracle baby. After you were born, the doctors informed your parents that you would likely be an only child due to the sensitive nature of your mum’s pregnancy, but then your baby sister came squealing into the world to prove everyone wrong. 

It was undoubtedly the best thing to happen to your family. Lily brought so much joy in your lives. The perks of being an older sibling meant that you were able to take Lily on all sorts of fun adventures, which gave your parents a much needed break every once in a while. A fact that they greatly appreciated. 

In all honesty, it wasn’t much of a chore. Lily was a bright and cheery little girl, but she was also a sensitive soul. You reckoned she got that from you. 

Lily tucked her head against your chest as Theo offered her a friendly smile. “I think Lily is still a little upset,” he said to his brother. “Why don’t we say sorry to her, so she knows that you didn’t mean to make her fall?” 

The sight of Theo encouraging Luca to approach your sister made you melt. Guys around Theo’s age were rarely that soft and sweet with little kids, so his gentle approach was refreshing to see. Plus, it didn’t hurt that was also incredibly handsome. 

As Luca cautiously approached, you set Lily down so the kids could face one another. The little boy’s lip wobbled as he spoke, but Theo squeezed his hand in reassurance. “I’m sorry, Lily. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Forgive me, pwease?” 

The puppy dog eyes and pout was impossible to refuse, but Lily was still slightly teary eyed as she clutched the hem of your dress. She looked up in question, so you gave her a nod of encouragement.

“S’okay, Luca,” she sniffled. “I forgive you.” 

Luca looked hopeful. “We’re fwiends again?” 

Lily nodded. “Fwiends again.” 

You smiled as the two kids made up. Luca shyly asked if he could touch your sister’s bow, which Lily agreed to while she rambled on about all the different colors she had in her collection. 

“I’m really sorry about all this,” Theo said softly while the kids played tag beside you. 

The resiliency of children always amazed you. One second, Lily was bawling her eyes out and the next she was running circles around the lawn with Luca hot on her heels. 

“It’s okay,” you reassured Theo. “I know Luca didn’t mean to hurt her. He seems like a really sweet kid.” 

Theo smiled, giving you a perfect view of his dimples. He ran a hand through his messy waves before fixing his gaze on you. “Don’t be fooled by that innocent face, I adore the runt, but Luca can be a little demon sometimes. Especially when he’s had sugar.” 

You chuckled as you watched Lily and Luca chase each other. “Tell me about it. Lils once threw an hour-long tantrum because I refused to let her eat an entire bag of Percy Pigs before breakfast.” 

In the afternoon sun, you could see flecks of green in Theo’s bright blue eyes. It seemed entirely unfair that he looked like that while also being sweet and kind and effortlessly charming. 

“You need to teach me your secrets,” Theo whispered conspiratorially. “I’ve never been able to say no to Luca. Especially when it comes to gelato.” 

“I can’t blame you. Gelato is delicious.” You chuckled as Theo nodded enthusiastically. “But I fear I’m no match for Luca. I saw those puppy dog eyes he flashed earlier. Did you teach him that?” 

Theo bowed his head in shame. “It was supposed to be our secret weapon to keep our mum from lecturing us about spoiling dinner with dessert, but somehow he’s turned it against me. I’m afraid I’ve created a monster.” 

“Well, maybe you just need a partner in crime to remind you to stay strong.” 

He cocked his head. “Is that a genuine offer? Because I really must put an end to his tyranny.” 

“Only if you help me convince Lily that broccoli is indeed delicious and necessary for a well-balanced diet.” 

Theo wrinkled his nose in disgust. “It really isn’t, but I’m desperate for an ally.” You raised an amused brow when he offered you his hand. “What do you say, Y/N?” 

You took his hand without hesitation. “I solemnly swear to be your faithful ally against the tyranny of your adorable yet lethal baby brother.” 

His eyes crinkled in delight. “And I solemnly swear to aid you in gaslighting your baby sister into liking disgusting vegetables.” 

With a handshake, your newfound alliance was officially sealed. 

The next day was a Friday, which meant that Luca was already bouncing off the walls before Theo’s alarm had even gone off. 

“Donut day!” His baby brother cheered while launching himself directly into Theo’s bed. Given that Theo was not a morning person, it took a few minutes of Luca poking and prodding at him to rustle him from sleep. “Come on, wake up! It’s donut day, bubby!” 

Every Friday morning, Theo took Luca to their local bakery to buy fresh blueberry donuts before heading to the duck pond by the school to eat their sugary breakfast. It had become a sort of tradition between them. Theo always cherished the time he got to spend with his baby brother even if Luca insisted on terrorizing the ducks at the pond by attempting to hug them. 

On that day, when the two of them were picking up their treats, Luca shyly tugged on Theo’s coat. 

“Yes, bub?” 

Luca fidgeted with his fingers. “Can I get a donut for Lily too? A strawberry sprinkle one. That’s her favorite.” 

Theo smiled. “Sure, bubby. We can put it in a pretty box for her.” 

As Theo ordered, he decided to ask for another extra donut for his newly minted partner in crime. He had exchanged numbers with you after the incident yesterday and spent the entire night texting nonstop until the two of you finally knocked out. It probably wasn’t the smartest idea he’s ever had since he had class later that morning, but Theo just couldn’t help it. 

You were funny and witty and not to mention really, really pretty. Plus, you kept up with his dry humor with your own playful banter, which only made him want to talk to you more. Despite running on fumes, he was giddy with excitement at the prospect of seeing you again. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my partner in crime who quite literally left me hanging last night.” 

You rolled your eyes fondly at his approach. “It was three in the morning, Theodore.” He stuck his tongue out at the use of his full name. “Besides, the only proper response to your extremely incorrect and quite frankly offensive opinion that One Direction is overrated is silence.” 

“I’ve obviously struck a chord,” Theo declared. “Too bad they wouldn’t know any if it hit them in their perfectly coiffed heads.” 

“But you love One Direction,” Luca blurted. “Member we used to dance to the beautiful song in our jammies?” 

Theo blushed to the tips of his ears while you burst into laughter. “I assure you, there’s absolutely no shame in being a secret diehard boyband fan.” You knelt down and whispered to Luca. “Do you happen to have any pictures, Luca?” 

“It was one time,” Theo said with a groan. “And I was only indulging Luca and my mum.”

“Your big brother's not a very good liar, is he?” 

Luca smiled brightly. “Nope!”

Theo sighed. “Right, enough of that. Bub, why don’t you show Lily your surprise?” 

Your sister perked up at this. You watched as Luca shyly presented her with a pretty pink pastry box. Lily gasped when she saw the strawberry sprinkle donut contained inside. 

“Look, sissy!” Lily cried out, her matching yellow bows bouncing enthusiastically as she held up the sugary treat in the air. “Luca got me my favorite.”

“I see that, Lils,” you said as you patted down her pigtails. It had taken the better part of the morning to wrangle her curls into submission, but it had been worth it when Lily hugged your legs in thanks. “What do we say to Luca and Theo?” 

“Thank you Luca! Thank you Theo!” 

You couldn’t help but grin when both brothers placed their hands in their coat pockets, rocked back on the balls of their feet, and blushed in perfect unison. Luca truly was a mini version of Theo. 

As the kids dug into their donuts, Theo shyly cleared his throat. When you looked up from attempting (and failing) to brush the powdered sugar out of Lily’s coat, he presented you with a pink box of your own. 

“I got one for you too,” Theo said softly. 

“Trying to get me to join the dark side?” 

“I can’t in good conscience allow you to call broccoli delicious without trying to corrupt you into consuming sugar.” 

“Fair enough,” you said as you accepted the treat. “Thanks, Theo. It was sweet of you to think of us.”

Theo wanted to say that he hadn’t stopped thinking about you since yesterday, but perhaps that might be a bit forward. 

“Speaking of thinking—”

“I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” 

“Ha ha very funny,” Theo said as he gestured towards the duck pond. Hopped up on sugar, your siblings had taken to befriending a gaggle of unsuspecting ducks while you and Theo plopped down on a rickety wooden bench. “You know, you’ve proven to be a terrible ally so far. First, you leave me on read and then you try to uncover evidence of the most embarrassing moment of my life.” 

“I’m truly sorry, Theo,” you mumbled as you took a generous bite out of the strawberry sprinkle donut. “However can I make it up to you?” 

“A play date.” 

“I reckon we’re a bit too old for that, aren’t we?” 

Theo snorted. “Not for us, you muppet. For the kids. I was thinking of taking Luca to the park tomorrow. Would you and Lily like to come?” He bumped your shoulder. “Consider it your apology for such abysmal allyship.” 

“Well, when you put it like that…” Theo raised an amused brow as you took another enthusiastic bite of your donut. “We’d love to!” 

“You’ve got a little…” He thumbed the strawberry frosting on the corner of your mouth and smirked as your blush matched the color of the pastry.

This time, you had no witty comeback as you watched Theo suck the frosting off of his finger. The action was innocent at best, but it might as well have been as indecent as your favorite spicy novels from the way it made you flustered.

Theo winked. “You’re welcome.” 

One play date snowballed into two, three, and four, until eventually, Luca and Lily were basically inseparable. Whether they were daring each other to swing as high as they could at the park, building cozy blanket forts for movie night at your house, or eating delicious Italian food cooked by Theo’s mum, the kids insisted on doing everything as a duo, which meant that you and Theo spent nearly every waking moment together too. 

Not that you were complaining. Things between you and Theo were just effortless. You had a lot in common. As it turns out, you both attended the same Uni though you never crossed paths since he majored in engineering while you majored in dance. Nevertheless, the two of you clicked in a way that you had never experienced before.

Theo always knew what to say to make you laugh. Even when you weren’t physically together, he would send you random photos and memes that had you grinning at your phone like an absolute knob. Your friends had even started teasing you about it.

“Is that Nott again?” Pansy asked as she stretched against the barre.

The ballet class today had been more grueling than usual since you had given Pansy free reign. She usually taught teenagers, but Lily had roped her into leading the younger kids simply because she wanted to show Pans the moves she had learned lately. Your friend’s inability to refuse your sister had always amused you since Pansy claimed that she didn’t have a single maternal bone in her body and thus vehemently denied her soft spot for Lily. 

“Luca and Theo are picking us up for dinner!” Your baby sister chimed in. 

Daphne raised a brow. “That’s what, the third time you’ve hung out with Theo this week? The two of you are practically attached at the hip now.” 

You glared at your friend while unlacing your pointe shoes. “Theo and I supervise Luca and Lily’s play dates. Of course we’re bound to spend some time together.” 

Astoria giggled. “Lils, what happened during your last movie night with Luca?” 

Your sister clapped her hands. “Oh! We watched Aladdin except sissy fell asleep on Theo and he cuddled her and told us not to be too loud so we wouldn’t wake her up.”

Your friends shot you a knowing look. Bollocks. Betrayed by your own sister. “Yes, but then he teased me mercilessly for falling asleep. It was really terribly rude.” 

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Because terribly rude boys always follow you around like a lost little puppy with a sickening yearning look in his eyes that only you don’t seem to notice.” 

“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed. “Theo does not yearn.”

Daphne patted you on the shoulder. “Sure love, and the sky is red.” 

“I’m tired of you lot ganging up on me,” you said as you lugged your duffel bag over your shoulder. “Let’s go, Lils. Luca and Theo are probably waiting for us.” 

“Bye Daph! Bye Tori!” Lily waved cheerfully. “Thank you for teaching me, Pan-Pan!” 

You bit back a smile as Pansy grimaced at the nickname. If it were anyone else, she would’ve committed a heinous act of violence to deter them from ever calling her Pan-Pan again, but since it was sweet Lily, Pansy merely sighed in resignation and waved goodbye. 

As soon as you stepped out of the studio, Lily turned to you with a very serious look. “What does yearning mean, sissy?” 

You sighed. “I’ll tell you when you’re older, Lils.” 

Thankfully, your sister didn’t protest the vague answer. Instead, she squealed in excitement when she spotted Luca in the carpark. The little boy was leaned up against Theo’s baby blue convertible with his legs crossed and his hands stuffed into his pockets just like his older brother. 

Beside him, Theo startled when he caught sight of you. His gaze swept over your matching pink wrap top and skirt. Though he knew that you did ballet, Theo had never seen you in the proper attire until now. The pink outfit hugged your curves and gave you a pretty glow. It was doing all sorts of funny things to him.

When you shook out your hair from its bun and hit him with the scent of strawberry shampoo, Theo was fairly certain that his brain had stopped functioning altogether. 

“Theo?” You asked. “Are you alright?” 

He took a grounding breath. “Sorry, bella. I’ve just never seen you like this before. You look like a proper ballerina.” Theo flushed when you caught him staring. “Very cute.” 

You curtsied gracefully before shooting him a wink. “Why, thank you.”

“Theo! Pan-Pan taught me how to do a pirouette. Look!” 

Theo watched attentively as Lily demonstrated the move. She primly twirled on her toes while Luca and Theo clapped. 

“That was great, Lils. You sure learned a lot today, huh?” 

“Yeah, only sissy wouldn’t tell me what yearning means—”

“Okay!” You said with a loud clap. “Why don’t we get this show on the road? Are we ready for some yummy pasta?” 

Lily and Luca shared a conspiratory look. “Well, bubby said we could get gelato. I want chocolate and Lily wants strawberry then we’ll switch and share cause it’s more fun that way.” 

“Why don’t we get dessert after? You wouldn’t want to spoil dinner, would you?” 

Your baby sister pouted. “Please, sissy? I did really good in class today. I promise I’ll still eat dinner even after gelato. Pleaaaaseeee.” 

It was clear that Luca had taught her a thing or two about cuteness manipulation. How could you say no to that little face? You and Theo were powerless to stop the little terrors.

“Alright, we can get gelato,” you conceded. The kids cheered, jumping up and down in celebration. “But only one scoop.”

Theo shot a pointed look at his brother. “And we don’t tell mum.”

Luca cheered. “Deal!” 

Predictably, dessert before dinner had turned out to be a terrible idea. To combat the cold outside, the gelato shop had the heat blasting inside which made the ice cream melt. It only took mere minutes before both kids were covered in a sticky, sugary mess. You squealed as stracciatella left a goopy trail down your hand. Theo licked away the remnants on the cone you were sharing while Luca and Lily laughed. 

“As I recall, you were supposed to help me say no to tyranny,” Theo teased. “Not indulge in it.”

“That was before you introduced me to stracciatella, so really this is your fault.” 

“Is that so?” The devious grin that tugged at Theo’s lips spelled nothing but trouble. “Well, if you like it that much…”

You shrieked when Theo mushed the melted cone into your nose. Theo was nearly in tears until you retaliated by swiping the cone across his chin. Your siblings laughed in delight as the two of you fought over the gelato. By the end of it, the two of you were an absolute mess and so were the kids. 

Wrangling them back to the table for clean up proved to be an impossible feat. Luca squirmed in your lap as you wiped his cheeks and hands. Lily giggled as Theo twirled her around while surreptitiously wiping her clean. The two of you exchanged a knowing look. It truly took teamwork to contend with the little terrors. 

Still, you couldn’t help but ruffle Luca’s hair as he flashed you an adorable dimpled smile. 

“Thank you, bells!” 

“You’re silly, Luca,” Lily exclaimed. “My sissy’s name is Y/N, not Bells.” 

“Yeah, but bubby calls her bella,” Luca said matter-of-factly. “It means beautiful in Italian.” 

“Oh!” Lily poked Theo in the chest. “You think sissy is pretty?” 

You tried not to blush too hard as Theo smiled softly at you. “Yeah, I really do.”

After cleaning up, it was finally time to head to dinner. The only problem was that Lily and Luca were now amped up on sugar and refused to stop running around. Theo chased after the squealing kids before scooping both of them up in his arms. He hauled Lily and Luca to the kitchen like they weighed nothing while you tried (and surprise, failed) not to drool as his biceps flexed from the effort. 

“Theo, can you come in here for a second?” 

After Theo deposited the two kids next to you, he winked. “Be right back, bella.”

When he walked into the kitchen, Theo found his stepdad carefully plating dinner. His mum had made carbonara tonight—Theo's favorite. He fell into step with Charlie and began portioning the pasta. That was the deal in their house. His mum cooked while they took care of everything else. 

“Luca talk you into gelato again, kiddo?” his stepdad whispered. 

Theo sighed and nodded. “You know I can’t say no to him. Plus, he and Lily ganged up on me and Y/N. We didn’t stand a chance.”

“Still, you two do make a good team,” Charlie mused. “Don’t you think?” 

Theo blushed. “Yeah, Y/N has been a good sport. She’s really good with Luca too.”

“Luca adores her,” his stepdad agreed. “I have a feeling he’s not the only one.” 

There was no hiding the way Theo flushed now. He turned as red as a tomato while Charlie clapped his back. “Listen, son, I think we should have the talk…”

Theo nearly dropped the plate of carbonara. “Dad!” He placed the dish carefully on the counter before facing Charlie. “God, please, it’s not like that. We haven’t been— I mean I’m not— We aren’t doing—” 

“Look, I’m not here to judge.” Theo knew Charlie meant it, but he was far too embarrassed to acknowledge that they were even having this conversation in the first place. “I just want you to be safe.” 

“I appreciate it and I promise I will be,” Theo said. He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. “Can this conversation be over now, please?” 

Charlie seemed to take it in stride. “Sure thing, kiddo. I just want you to know that you can come to me with anything. I’m always here for you, Theo.” 

At that, Theo smiled. “I know. Thank you.” 

Charlie ruffled his hair. “Love you, kiddo.” 

“Love you too, dad.”

As predicted, the kids had no appetite for dinner even though Theo’s mum made the most delicious carbonara you had ever tasted. She glanced at her sons suspiciously as Luca pushed his pasta around on his plate. Theo suddenly found the pasta very interesting and avoided her gaze. 

“Thank you for having us over Mr. and Mrs. Rossi,” you said politely. “The pasta is delicious.” 

“Please, call me Alessandra,” she said. “And there’s no need to thank us. We love having you and Lily over.” 

“Almost as much as the boys love having you here,” Charlie added cheekily. 

Both boys blushed. “Dad!”

Alessandra bit back a smile. “Y/N, Theo tells us that you do ballet. Are you planning on volunteering for the school’s talent show this year?” 

You nodded. “Yes, Lily’s teacher actually asked me if I wanted to help with the choreography.” 

Every year, the primary school hosted a talent show that included different categories like singing, dancing, and acting. Since it was Lily’s first year participating, you were excited to help out and make the experience enjoyable for everyone involved. You were already well-versed in teaching kids at the ballet studio, so it was only natural to agree when Lily’s teacher asked. 

“Sissy is a really good dancer,” Lily announced. “She can do so many pirouettes without even getting dizzy.” 

“I wanna do a piroutte,” said Luca. 

“You don’t even know what a pirouette is, bub.” 

“That’s okay,” Lily chimed in. “I can teach you, Lulu. We can do the talent show together!” 

Luca clapped. “Oooh can I, bells? Please! I wanna be in the talent show.” 

You smiled. “Sure, Luca. I think a lot of your classmates signed up for dance too.” 

Come to think of it, the last time you checked the list, it seemed like the majority of Luca and Lily’s class had signed up for dance. The reality of wrangling a horde of hyperactive five year olds suddenly hit you all at once. You could barely handle Luca and Lily on a good day. Reinforcements were a must.

“Would you like some help?” Theo asked. “I mean, I can’t dance to save my life, but I can at least help you keep the little runts in line.” 

“Ooh yes!” Luca clapped. “Bubby can play the prince!”

Theo blinked. “I don’t know if that’s—”

Lily giggled. “Theo is sissy’s Prince Charming!” 

You bit back a laugh as Theo flushed. He narrowed his eyes at you when a giggle slipped out. Across the table, his parents watched with great amusement as the two kids did their best rendition of a waltz. Unbeknownst to you, Charlie shot Theo a wink that had him reliving the entire embarrassing encounter in the kitchen. 

You bumped Theo with your shoulder. “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, Teddy.”

“And let someone else play your Prince Charming?” Theo asked with a raised brow. “I don’t think so. We’re in this together now, bella. There’s no turning back.” 

The engineering building buzzed with noise and nerves as midterms crept closer. Everyone seemed to be on edge about the looming exams, Theo included. It didn’t help that Mattheo and Enzo were faffing around while he was trying to read his notes.

“Oi! Can you two keep it down?” Theo barked. “I’m actually trying to study.” 

“Testy, aren’t we?” Mattheo teased. “Is it because you haven’t seen a certain someone all weekend?” 

Theo rolled his eyes. Your parents had taken the family up to the countryside for a weekend getaway, which meant he hadn’t seen you in three days. The reception was abysmal at best given that your texts weren’t going through and your calls kept dropping. It was an absolute pain in the arse. Who was Theo supposed to send all his weird niche memes too? He was having a terrible time being away from his best friend and so was Luca.

“I’m testy because you two are distracting me. I really need to get this done so I can take Luca to dance lessons tonight.” 

“So you can see Y/N,” Enzo said in a sing-songy voice. 

“And not a moment too soon,” Mattheo added. “The withdrawal symptoms are really getting out of hand.”

Theo glared at his idiotic friends. “What are you two even doing here? You’re not even in engineering. Haven’t you got someone else to bother?” 

“Well, Draco is studying with Granger and Blaise is exempted from midterms, so that just leaves you.” 

“Lucky me,” he muttered. 

“There you are,” a familiar voice called. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” 

Theo knew it was you before he even turned around. “Hi, bella,” he said in a considerably warmer voice. You giggled as he enveloped you in a bear hug. “What are you doing here?” 

“We got home early, so I thought I’d bring you some treats to help you study.” Theo grinned when you presented him with a pastry box and more importantly, a coffee large enough to kill a small bear. “I know how cranky you get when you don’t have caffeine.”

“Oh, he’s been cranky alright, but it has nothing to do with a lack of coffee,” said Mattheo. Theo glared at his curly headed friend, who ignored him altogether. Instead, the stupid twat flashed you a charming smile. “I’m Mattheo, by the way. Enzo and I have heard so much about you.”

You glanced at Theo with an amused expression. He very much wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. “Good things I hope?” 

“Only the best,” Berkshire added unhelpfully as he took your hand and cheekily kissed the back of your hand. Theo was one flirty comment away from bludgeoning his mates with his thick engineering book. “Theo just can’t seem to stop talking about you.”

“Is that so?” you asked with a raised brow. Theo had warned you that Mattheo and Enzo flirted with anything that had a pulse. “He’s told me about the two of you, too. You’re trouble, aren’t you?” 

Mattheo smirked. “You have no idea, sweetheart.” 

Theo rolled his eyes. “Ignore them. They’re idiots.” His mood brightened after a sip of coffee. Black with two sugars, just like he liked it. “How was the trip?” 

“Good, except Lily kept asking when she could go home and play with Luca. She really missed him.”

“Luca missed her too. He didn’t even have it in him to terrorize the ducks at the pond this week.” 

You chuckled. “Well, I’m sure they’ll be happy to be reunited at dance tonight.” Theo smiled as you leaned in to whisper. “Speaking of, your costume arrived in the post this morning. I think you’ll look very dashing in it.” 

“Costume?” Enzo asked. He was like a bloodhound when it came to gossip. “What costume?” 

Theo groaned. “None of your business, Berkshire.”

“You didn’t tell them?” Mattheo and Enzo shook their heads in confirmation. You raised a brow at Theo who only sighed in resignation. “Luca’s school is hosting a talent show. He’s doing a dance recital with my little sister and the other kids in their class. Theo has been helping me prepare them for it. Plus, he snagged a starring role. He’s going to be a great Prince Charming.”

The matching shit eating grins on Mattheo and Enzo’s faces made Theo sigh even louder. “When exactly is the talent show?” the two asked in unison. “Because there’s no bloody way in hell we’re missing it.” 

“It’s two weeks from now, on Friday night. I think it would be lovely if you came.” 

“Count us in.” 

Theo hid his face in your shoulder. “What have you done, bella?” 

“Aw, come on, Teddy. It’ll be fun!”

“Yeah Teddy,” Mattheo and Enzo teased. “We’ll have an absolute blast.”

“If I end up murdering them, it’s on you,” Theo whispered. 

“You wouldn’t hurt a fly. You’re just a big old grumpy teddy bear.” Theo groaned in protest until you kissed his cheek, leaving your glossy, vanilla-scented mark on him. “See you tonight, Teddy.” 

He couldn’t do anything but stare after you with a stupid lovestruck expression on his face as you waved goodbye. 

“Nice to meet you Mattheo and Enzo!” 

“Bye, Y/N! Let’s do it again sometime.”

Once you were out of earshot, Theo glared at the two idiots he called friends. “Not a fucking word.” 

Mattheo and Enzo snickered in response. 

“Whatever you say, teddy bear.”

As soon as Theo stepped into the ballet studio, he knew that he was way in over his head. 

In the middle of the mirrored room, you welcomed the kids with a bright smile. You were wearing a flouncy pink dress with a white bow tied around your waist. His jaw nearly hit the floor when you held your leg upright against the barre and stretched. No matter how many times he saw you do it, Theo could never quite grasp the physics of it all.

“Hi, Teddy!” You greeted at his approach. 

Beside you, Lily and Luca started their usual basic stretches. Theo tried not to swallow his tongue as you began giving him the rundown of the last few tweaks for tonight’s class. He nodded absentmindedly even though he hadn’t heard a single thing you’d said in the last five minutes. 

“Do you mind?” 

Theo had no time to answer before you placed your ankle on his shoulder and casually carried on the conversation. Whatever semblance of personal space existed before was completely obliterated as you basically stood nose to nose. He felt all the blood rush out of his head. 

“Have pity on the boy, Y/N,” Pansy barked. “He looks like he’s about to pass out.” 

Theo blinked as your friends crowded around you. The Greengrass sisters hid their smiles behind their hands as Parkinson marched up. To be fair, Pansy’s observation wasn’t entirely untrue. Theo did feel a bit lightheaded and flustered, but he always did when it came to you. 

“Be nice, Pans.” You said with a fond eye roll as you took your leg off of Theo’s shoulder. “What are you lot doing here? I thought you didn’t have classes tonight.”

“We came to see the show,” Daphne answered cheekily as she glanced between you and Theo. “Lily said it was really coming along.”

Astoria nodded. “Plus, I finished bedazzling the wings. I thought the kids might like to practice with them.” 

The rest of the practice resumed as normal. At first, the kids struggled with their newfound wings, but adjusted quickly once you taught them how to account for the added weight. Theo watched as you twirled in place, absolutely mesmerized by the way you moved. Beside you, Lily mimicked the spin. 

Luca tilted his head. “Wow.” 

“Tell me about it, bub.” 

By now, the kids had grown confident in their skills. Even when they got rowdy and fussy, you remained patient. Theo watched with a fond smile as you praised their progress and encouraged them to dance their little hearts out. All in all, it was quite impressive what you managed to teach the children in a limited amount of time. 

Though Theo still considered himself absolute shite at dancing, he had to admit that he was less stiff and awkward than before. It was a testament to your skill as a teacher that he didn’t trip and fall on his arse every time he stepped into the studio. Perhaps he might even manage to survive his stint as Prince Charming. 

Mattheo and Enzo would likely take the piss out of him once they saw Theo in his ridiculous costume, but he didn’t care. As long as it made you happy, he would’ve danced around in his bloody underwear for all of London to see.

After practice, the kids begged for an impromptu movie night. Since practice ended earlier than usual, your parents didn’t protest. Besides, they didn’t stand a chance against Lily and Luca who were seemingly trying to make up for lost time. Even though it had only been three days since they last saw each other. 

Freshly showered, you curled up on the couch as Theo put the Jungle Book on for the kids. Lily and Luca laid on their stomachs on the carpet while surrounded by pillows and blankets. A bowl of popcorn and candy sat between them, but neither one reached for it because their attention was glued onto the movie. 

Once they were settled, Theo claimed his spot beside you on the couch. You rested your head on his shoulder and chuckled as Lily did the same with Luca. The familiar scent of citrus and sea salt finally made you feel like you were truly home. After inhaling his scent greedily, you sighed in satisfaction.

“You would think we separated them for a decade with the way they’re acting.” 

“Hmm,” Theo hummed as he snuggled under the blankets. “I don’t know. Three days is a very long time.” 

“Is it?” You asked nonchalantly. “I hardly even noticed.” 

Though you couldn’t see his face, you knew Theo was rolling his eyes. “Who goes to the country anyways? There’s no cell reception, there’s a bunch of bugs, and it's in the middle of nowhere.”

“I thought it was peaceful,” you contemplated. “For once, I could actually hear myself think. Plus, the stars are beautiful at night without all the light pollution..” Theo didn’t seem convinced. “But there were some things I missed about the city.” 

“Like what?” 

You pretended to think. “My bed, my coffee machine, my fuzzy slippers….” Theo squeezed your hip in warning. “And my best friend.”

“You missed me?”

“Of course I did.” 

Theo smiled that stupid breathtaking smile of his that made your heart catch in your throat. He placed a kiss on your forehead and pulled you closer. 

“I missed you too, bella.”

Two weeks later, it was finally time for the talent show. 

Theo stared at himself in the mirror and wondered where he had gone wrong in life. His costume, the bloody ridiculous thing, made him look like a proper arse. It was velvet and blue and it had a cape—an honest to god cape that trailed after him everywhere he went. Despite this, Theo did not complain once. 

Luca teetered beside him. “You look silly, bubby.” 

“No, he looks handsome!” Lily exclaimed. 

His baby brother frowned. “I’m handsome.” 

Lily shrugged. “Okay.” 

His lament was momentarily interrupted when you floated by to do final checks. After adjusting wings and tightening ponytails, you finally made your way over to him. Theo bit back a smile as you fussed over him. It made the incredibly tight pants worth it. 

“You look so handsome. The perfect Prince Charming,” you said. “You’re going to kill it out there.” 

He grinned. “Well, I did have a great teacher.” 

You beamed brightly in response before kissing his cheek. The scent of strawberry shampoo and vanilla lip gloss threatened to completely undo him. “Thank you so much for doing this, Teddy.” 

At this point, Theo knew he was an absolute goner. “Anything for you, bella.” 

The show went off without a hitch. For the most part, the kids remembered the majority of the choreography. On the off chance that they forgot a move, they could always look to you for guidance as you followed along in wings. 

When it came time for his grand reveal, the audience cheered and clapped. None louder than his dickhead friends who somehow managed to snag front row seats. Still, the only person he focused on was you. He would’ve endured far worse just to see your face light up with that brilliant smile. 

From the front row, his mum shot him a knowing look. Theo had never been able to hide anything from her, so he was sure she knew that he was stupidly and foolishly head over heels for you. Though he was thankful that she was more tactful in her approach compared to Charlie, who was now on his feet wolf whistling in the crowd. 

Luckily, Theo managed to survive the performance without dying of embarrassment. It helped immensely when you launched yourself into his arms and squeezed him until he could barely breathe. 

“That was brilliant,” you exclaimed. “You did so well. I’m so proud of you.” 

Theo chuckled into your hair. “Couldn’t have done it without you.” 

Time slowed as he pulled back, his eyes finding yours in the chaos. You smiled back at him and his heart squeezed at the sight. He found himself thinking that now would be a really great time to kiss you. Theo caressed your cheek, his head tilting towards yours. He was so close he could taste your vanilla lip gloss. 

“Oi! Prince Charming,” Mattheo hollered. “Come give me a kiss, lover boy.” 

Theo groaned as Enzo, Blaise, and Draco made kissy noises at him. At that moment, he was truly considering murdering his closest friends. You chuckled and patted his cheek. 

“Be nice, Teddy,” you whispered. “They’re just jealous that they’ll never look as hot as you do in that cape.” 

That boosted his spirits enough to rough house with his friends. Despite their teasing, the twats remembered their manners and congratulated Luca on a job well done and had even brought flowers for you and Lily. Between your family and friends, it was a full party as you received cards and flowers all throughout the night. 

Your favorite part was introducing Mattheo and Enzo to Pansy, who looked them up and down with a completely unimpressed stare before walking away. It unmoored the boys, but Daph and Tori more than made up for it with a friendlier introduction. All in all, the blend of your friends and families celebrating a successful night was heartwarming.

“This calls for gelato,” Charlie announced. 

“That’s a great idea,” your mum said. “Lils, why don’t you grab your bag so we can head out?” 

“I can grab it for her,” you offered.

Alessandra shook her head. “We’ll take the kids out for gelato. You and Theo deserve a night off. In fact, we made a reservation at that restaurant that I was telling you about. You’ll love their French onion soup.” 

You and Theo exchanged a bewildered look. Surely your parents were not actually setting you up for an impromptu date. From the glimmer in your mum’s eyes and the not-so-subtle wink your dad gave you, it was quite clear that they were. Those devious little minxes. Still, it was oddly touching. 

Once everyone said their goodbyes, you and Theo headed to the restaurant. It was cute and cozy with a rustic twist. The table that his mum reserved for you was in a secluded corner of the establishment that overlooked the patio garden outside. If that wasn’t enough to set the mood, the dim lighting and candles definitely screamed romance. 

Even more so since you had changed into a pretty pink dress that your mum so graciously brought while Theo looked quite handsome in a baby blue button up that brought out his eyes and pressed black trousers. You couldn’t deny that you looked quite good together.

As promised, you ended up loving the French onion soup. You were glad to find that there was no trace of awkwardness throughout the dinner though you could feel the lingering tension electrifying the air between you from the almost kiss. Other than that, it felt like any other night spent with your favorite person. 

At some point, Theo had pulled your chair next to his. He wasn’t a fan of sitting across from each other because it meant that he couldn’t touch you. You chuckled to yourself as he put his arm around you and toyed with the ends of your hair. Sometimes, you weren’t even sure if he was aware that he was doing it. 

Despite the dreary weather in London lately, it was a pleasantly cool evening. The stars were high and bright in the sky as the two of you quietly admired them.

“See? You can see the stars in London too.” 

You grinned. “You just don’t want me to go anywhere that’s far away from you.” 

Theo nodded as if it were obvious. “Damn right.” 

You and Theo spent hours talking about nothing and everything. By the time you finished the tiramisu, the two of you were bursting at the seams. 

“This is nice,” you mumbled as you caught an addictive whiff of citrus and sea salt. “But I kind of miss the little terrors.” 

Theo smiled. “Me too. It's strange eating actual food and not chicken tenders and chips.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “If we leave now, we can probably catch the end of movie night.” 

Hand in hand, you left the restaurant and drove back to your house in Theo’s baby blue convertible. You laughed as the breeze fluttered through your fingers while Theo turned up the music. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled at you, dimples and all, and you thought to yourself that perhaps the sight of it was your favorite thing in the whole wide world. 

A giddy sort of excitement bubbled up within you as you and Theo raced across the lawn. With your heels in hand, you shrieked as your feet touched the cold grass. Theo responded by sweeping you off your feet and carrying you bridal style to the front porch. He set you down at the first step, brushing the hair out of your face. 

“We were interrupted earlier,” Theo murmured as he traced the outline of your lips with his thumb. 

His skin was warm against yours, but it still gave you goosebumps all the same. You were on the precipice of falling, staring at the top of a cliff while something new and exciting yet familiar and comforting waited for you at the bottom. 

You raised a brow in challenge. “Why don’t you finish it then?” 

Your eyes fluttered close as Theo pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was soft and sweet, shy almost, and it made butterflies erupt in your stomach. You stood on your tiptoes as Theo snaked an arm around your waist, hauling you up without breaking the kiss. You giggled against his lips and he couldn’t stop smiling as he kissed you over and over again. Why had he ever wasted his time doing anything else?

Behind the curtains, you saw two small shapes teetering in laughter. Giggles erupted from the window within the house as you and Theo pulled away. His waves were messier than usual courtesy of you running your fingers through his hair. The two of you were both wide-eyed and kiss-bitten, cheeks red in the afterglow. 

Theo peppered kisses on your face as you squealed. “Is it my turn or yours?” 

“Yours,” you said breathlessly. “Definitely yours. I was the tickle monster last time.” 

“Mmm, I don’t believe you. But you’re pretty and it’s distracting, so I suppose you win this one.” 

You kissed the tip of his nose. “I always win, Teddy. That’s how this works, remember?”

He tickled your sides. “Fine, but only because you’re my favorite person and I couldn’t say no to you even if I tried.” You grinned. “Good luck kiss?” 

“Getting greedy now, are we?” 

When Theo opened his mouth to argue, you kissed him deeply, distractingly, and deliciously. He groaned into your mouth as you tugged on his hair. God, you would never get tired of that. His eyes were the bluest you’d ever seen them when you finally pulled away. He was so beautiful it hurt. 

With one last chaste kiss, Theo opened the door and took off running. Luca and Lily shrieked as Theo chased after them, tickling them mercilessly until they both rolled on the carpet, breathless with laughter. You watched for a moment, soaking in the sight, until you finally joined your partner in crime. 

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

family planning pt. 2 (t.n.)

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: Theodore never wanted children. The day his mother died was the day he had sworn off any semblance of a family. That was until a child appears before him, claiming to be his daughter.

A/N: This is the second part and since you waited so patiently i included 3 bonus scenes teehee posting it early for my babies

Special mention to @for-the-love-of-puppies and @luffysprincess who predicted this turnout lol our brains are in sync

Credits to @dividers-are-us for the divider

Part 1

Bianca was a blur of movement by the Great Lake.

She darted along the grassy bank, boots thudding softly against the earth as she zig-zagged around rocks and half-buried roots, stopping every few seconds to crouch down and inspect something with intense focus before bolting off again. A stick became a wand, a pebble became treasure, and the reeds at the water’s edge were clearly hiding something very important.

You watched her with a fond smile, arms folded loosely as you leaned back against the cool stone.

“She has too much energy.” You said, though there was no real complaint in your voice—only wonder.

Theo huffed a quiet laugh beside you, eyes never leaving her, “She’s a firecracker.”

Bianca shrieked with laughter as she nearly tripped over her own feet, caught herself at the last second, and then stood very still—carefully regaining her balance before continuing on her way.

Theo tilted his head slightly, watching her, “She takes after you.”

You laughed, startled, “Are you crazy?”

He glanced at you, amused, “What?”

You nodded toward Bianca. “Look at her. She’s observant. Thoughtful. She watches everything. She’s lively, yeah—but she hardly ever leaps without looking first.” You smiled softly, “That’s all you.”

Theo went quiet at that, a small, almost disbelieving smile tugging at his mouth.

He watched Bianca sprint past a patch of wildflowers, slow just enough to avoid stepping on them, then take off again.

“…Maybe.” He conceded.

A moment later, he added, half-thoughtful, half-teasing, “She’d be a good Chaser.”

You snorted, “Of course you’d say that.”

“Did you see that turn?” He said, nodding toward her as she swerved sharply to avoid the water’s edge, “She'll be a star quidditch player.”

You hummed, considering it. “I don’t know,” You said slowly, “I kind of see her as a Magizoologist.”

Theo glanced at you, “Yeah?”

“She’s gentle,” You said, “Curious. She doesn’t just want to look—she wants to understand.” You smiled as Bianca crouched again, whispering something to a very unimpressed-looking duck, “I think she’d love creatures.”

Theo’s expression softened.

“Whatever she chooses,” He said quietly, “she’ll be brilliant.”

The words lingered between you.

The lake rippled softly. The breeze carried the scent of water and grass. Bianca’s laughter echoed across the shore, bright and unburdened.

And then—slowly, inevitably—the conversation faded.

Neither of you spoke.

Because the truth settled in like a weight neither of you wanted to name.

There were futures you were imagining that you wouldn’t get to see. First matches. First discoveries. First failures. First triumphs.

Theo swallowed.

You hugged your arms closer to yourself, eyes fixed on Bianca as if memorizing the way the sunlight caught in her curls.

For a moment, it was almost peaceful.

And for a moment, that made it hurt so much more.

Bedtime was always a gamble.

There were nights when Bianca conked out long before she was meant to, curled boneless and warm in Theo’s arms, and you and him would exchange a silent look before jointly deciding it wasn’t worth the risk. No pajamas. No teeth brushed. Not if it meant waking her. You’d just lay her down as she was and hope she didn't wake up.

Some nights, she went down like a dream—padding excitedly toward bed because she was looking forward to the story that Theo read to her. When it was your turn, Bianca would read to you instead, you'd study the pictures with exaggerated seriousness, and make enthusiastic oohs and ahhs at all the right moments while Bianca beamed in pride at her reading skills.

And then there were the nights she refused.

It would almost be easier if she weren’t tired—at least then you could burn the energy off. A walk around the castle usually did the trick. More often than not, she’d be asleep in Theo’s arms before you even turned back toward the common room, her cheek pressed into his shoulder, breathing slow and even.

But the worst nights were when she was exhausted and still couldn’t sleep.

Overtired, overstimulated, and furious about it.

The crying cut through you in a way nothing else did—sharp and relentless, scraping along your nerves until you felt hollowed out. Theo held on as long as he could. When it became too much, he’d quietly excuse himself.

"Ten minutes." He promised, "I'll be back."

But when fifteen passed and he still hadn’t returned, you didn’t go looking for him. You knew where he was—the common room, breathing, grounding himself. You let him have those extra minutes.

You held Bianca instead, her small body tense in your arms, her face damp with tears. You hugged her close and rocked back and forth, humming softly at first, then singing—a lullaby from a film you used to love as a child.

Gradually, the sobs quieted.

Her breathing evened out.

And when you were absolutely certain she was gone—truly asleep—you tucked her into bed, smoothing the blankets, lingering just long enough to make sure she didn’t stir.

Only then did you leave.

You closed the door quietly behind you and let out a long breath.

“She’s finally down.” You murmured, collapsing onto the couch beside Theo like your bones had simply decided they were finished.

He looked up from the parchment spread across the coffee table. His hair was mussed, sleeves rolled up, dark circles bruising the skin beneath his eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come back up.” He said quietly.

Your head tipped against his shoulder without thinking. “It’s okay, Theo,” You replied softly, “You deserved the break after the fight to get her into pajamas.”

He exhaled—a deep, exhausted sigh—and let his head fall forward for a moment. The common room was dim, fire crackling low, everything wrapped in that hazy, end-of-day quiet where the world felt temporarily paused.

After a beat, Theo straightened slightly, shaking his head like he could physically shake himself awake. “Okay,” He said, gesturing to the parchment with his chin, “Do you want to start writing the Charms essay?”

You nodded, eyes already heavy. “In a second,” You murmured, “Just… give me a second.”

Your eyes fluttered shut.

The fire crackled. The room softened. The parchment remained untouched.

And sometime in the night, Theo’s head tipped gently against yours, his breathing evening out as sleep finally claimed him too—the two of you tangled together on the couch like you belonged there.

Morning crept into the Slytherin common room slowly.

Pale light filtered in through the tall windows, casting faint shapes across the stone floor and catching on the dying embers in the fireplace. The room was quiet in that in-between way—too early for students rushing to class, too late for true solitude.

Sometime during the night, the distance between you and Theo had disappeared entirely.

Your head was tucked beneath his chin now, his arm slung loosely—but securely—around your waist. One of your legs had somehow ended up tangled with his, your body curved into his like it was the most natural thing in the world. His cheek rested against the crown of your head, breath warm and steady, fingers curled faintly into the fabric of your sleeve.

You looked… settled.

Theo hadn’t slept that deeply in weeks.

The first voices shattered the quiet.

“Oi—what the hell?”

Blaise stopped short just inside the common room, halfway through a yawn. Mattheo, behind him, followed his line of sight—and froze. Then a slow, shit-eating grin spread across his face.

“Mama y papà.” He said cheerfully.

Theo stirred at the sound, brows knitting together. You shifted too, burrowing closer on instinct, your face scrunching in your sleep in that exact way Bianca did when she didn’t want to wake up yet.

Theo’s eyes fluttered open.

It took him a moment to piece things together. The couch. The dying fire. The weight against his chest.

You.

His arm tightened before he could stop himself.

Draco let out a low whistle. “Merlin,” He drawled, “You leave one kid with him for a week and suddenly he’s playing house.”

Theo’s eyes snapped fully open, “Shut up.”

Lorenzo folded his arms, unimpressed but unmistakably entertained, “Are we interrupting something?”

You shifted again, mumbling something soft and unintelligible into Theo’s chest. Your hand slid up, fingers curling into the front of his shirt like it was a lifeline.

Theo held his breath.

For a moment, he stared up at the ceiling—at the stone arches, at the faint greenish light—fully aware of his friends staring like the two of you were a particularly scandalous exhibit in a zoo.

And still, despite himself, his eyelids felt heavy again.

“Bianca?” He murmured, voice barely there.

“Still fast asleep.” Mattheo supplied easily.

Theo didn’t even fight it.

His eyes slid shut again, arm tightening just a fraction more around you as his head tipped back against the couch.

Out cold.

There was a beat of silence.

Then—

“Oh my God,” Blaise whispered, “He’s actually asleep."

Lorenzo stared, "My old man used to do the same too. Fell asleep through a whole movie once."

The Slytherin common room was almost unnervingly quiet at that hour.

The fire burned low in the hearth, casting slow-moving shadows across the stone walls, green flames reflecting in the tall windows like something alive beneath the lake outside. Most of the lamps had been extinguished, leaving only a soft pool of light near the couches where you and Theo sat—books spread open, parchment littered with notes, ink smudges marking the evidence of three solid feet of Transfiguration essays each.

You were officially on a break.

You shivered, tugging the blanket tighter around your shoulders just as Theo stood, rolling his neck once before moving toward the small table where he’d set up the kettle. You watched him quietly as he brewed tea—precise, unhurried, like the ritual itself grounded him.

When he returned and placed a cup in front of you, you couldn’t help the smile that curved your lips.

The teabag was still steeping.

You took a careful sip. It was perfect. Strong, but not bitter. Exactly how you liked it.

A soft chuckle slipped out of you before you could stop it.

Theo glanced up, “What?”

You shook your head, lifting the cup slightly, “Nothing. Just—thank you.”

He nodded once, but his mouth twitched like he knew there was more to it.

Then, almost without thinking, you said, “You know… before meeting her, I didn’t think I’d ever even look twice at you.”

Theo’s quill froze mid-scratch.

Slowly, he turned to face you, one brow lifting. “Wow,” He drawled, “I feel incredibly flattered.”

You winced, “No—wait. That came out wrong.”

He studied you now, the teasing edge fading, curiosity sharpening his expression.

“I just mean,” You continued, fingers worrying the hem of your sleeve, “before Bianca, I honestly thought we’d graduate and pass by each other without ever really being in each other’s lives.” You hesitated, “But now…”

“Now what?” He asked quietly.

You gestured vaguely between the two of you—the firelight, the late hour, the way his knee brushed yours and neither of you moved away.

“You know exactly how I like my tea,” You said softly, “And I know how you like yours. I’m allergic to smoke, and you stopped smoking before this even became…” Your voice trailed off as you ducked your head, unsure how to name what sat between you, “Whatever this is.”

“Whatever this is,” You finished, almost to yourself, “It’s funny, isn’t it? How sometimes things just… happen. Completely out of order.”

Theo leaned back slightly, watching you like you were something fragile and dangerous all at once.

“She changed things.” He said.

“Yes,” You whispered, “She certainly did.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy but not uncomfortable.

“I never thought about it before.” He admitted finally, voice low.

“About what?”

“Any of this,” He said, “A family. A future. I didn’t think I was capable of it, to be honest.” His jaw tightened. “Thought I was too screwed up to deserve one.”

Your chest ached.

“And now?” You asked softly.

“Now,” He said, barely above a breath, “I want it more than anything in the world.” His eyes met yours, “Bianca. And you.”

Your heart stuttered painfully.

“I don’t know when it happened,” He went on, “Or how. I just know that somewhere along the way, I stopped yearning for my past—and started anticipating the future instead.”

The fire popped, sharp in the stillness.

You looked at him—really looked. The shadows beneath his eyes. The tension he carried like armor. The boy who had let himself love without realizing how deeply it would cut.

“I think,” You said, voice trembling just slightly, “I feel the same way, Theo.” You swallowed, “I want a future with you.”

You reached for him before fear could catch up, your fingers brushing his wrist. He went utterly still at the contact, breath hitching like you’d struck something vital.

You hesitated, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth as you lifted your gaze to his—and then your hands began to tremble when you saw it. The want in his eyes. Bare. Unguarded.

Theo leaned in slowly, deliberately—giving you every chance to pull away.

You didn’t.

His forehead rested against yours first, warm and steady, grounding you both.

“Ti amo.” He whispered.

You didn’t need to understand Italian to know what he was saying.

The kiss started softly, tentative—his lips brushing yours like a question he was afraid to ask too loudly. When you responded, just as gently, his breath shuddered, relief and emotion tangling together.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, slower. Like he was learning you. Like he was afraid that if he rushed, the moment might fracture.

His hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek as if anchoring himself. You melted into him, fingers curling into the fabric of his sweater, the firelight warming your skin as the world narrowed to this—this quiet, impossible thing that had found you both.

When he finally pulled back, it was only by a breath, foreheads still touching.

You really did love him.

Theo had been in a mood.

It settled over him the moment the owl arrived—thick parchment, precise handwriting, the professors’ seal pressed into the wax like a finality. You’d read it together at the kitchen table in the common room, Bianca swinging her legs beneath the chair, humming to herself as she colored, blissfully unaware.

We believe we have found a way to reverse the spell. Preliminary tests indicate a high probability of success. We are confident we can return the child to her proper time.

Ever since then, something in Theo had gone quiet.

Not angry. Not cruel. Just… withdrawn. As if he’d folded inward, brick by careful brick, building walls he refused to name. He spoke less. Smiled less. When Bianca reached for him, he held her a little tighter, a little longer—like he was memorizing the weight of her, the way she fit against his chest.

You told yourself you understood.

Of course he was going to miss her. You were going to miss her too. Somewhere between shared breakfasts and bedtime stories, scraped knees and tangled curls, Bianca had taken root in your heart. The thought of watching her vanish—of returning to your normal lives and pretending these weeks hadn’t rewritten you—made your throat ache in a way you didn’t know how to soothe.

That night, Bianca went to bed easily.

Too easily.

She pressed a sticky kiss to your cheek, murmured something sleepy in Italian, and curled beneath her blankets without protest. No fuss. No tears. Just acceptance.

It felt like a bad omen.

Theo waited until the door clicked shut behind you before he spoke.

“What if we don’t send her back?”

You turned slowly, the words not quite registering, “What?”

“What if we keep her here,” He said, voice low and urgent, like if he spoke too loudly the idea might shatter, “What if we just—don’t go through with it. We have time with her. Real time. Why should we give that up?”

Your stomach dropped.

“Theo,” You said carefully, “What are you talking about?”

“We’re her parents,” He said, like it was obvious. Like it had always been obvious, “And if we send her back, we’re sending her to a life where she doesn’t have a mother. At least this way—” His voice cracked, just slightly, “—at least this way she has both of us.”

“Theo—”

“I know it hasn’t been perfect,” He rushed on, stepping closer, words tumbling over each other, “But we’re learning. We can do this. We already are. You see her—she’s happy here. She’s safe.” His eyes searched yours desperately, “She doesn’t have to lose you.”

Your chest burned.

“I know we could do this,” You whispered, “I know that. But Bianca isn’t our child. Not really. No matter how badly we want her to be.”

His jaw tightened, muscles jumping beneath the skin.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” He said sharply, “To grow up without a mother. To wake up every day knowing there’s a hole in your life you’ll never fill.” His voice dropped, rough and raw, “If she stays here, she doesn’t have to lose you. Whatever it is—whatever happens to you—we can catch it early. We can fix it.”

Your vision blurred.

“If Bianca stays here,” You said, voice breaking, “the you in the future loses his daughter forever. He’s already lost his wife, Theo. Don’t make him lose his baby girl too.”

Something in him snapped.

“Screw him.” He said hoarsely.

He reached for you suddenly, hands cupping your face, thumbs brushing beneath your eyes like he could stop the tears if he tried hard enough. He pressed his forehead to yours, breathing hard, like he was holding himself together by sheer will.

“I have everything I’ve ever wanted right here,” He whispered, “Right now.”

Your sob escaped before you could stop it, fingers clutching at his sleeves like an anchor.

“Theo,” You breathed, “you know as well as I do… she isn’t meant to be here.”

He sucked in a breath—and this time, he couldn’t hold it back.

The sob tore out of his chest, raw and broken, his grip tightening like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

“Don’t make me give you up, (Y/N),” He choked, voice collapsing on your name, “Please. I can’t— I can’t lose you too.”

His forehead stayed pressed to yours as his shoulders shook, grief and fear and want spilling out all at once. He wasn’t just pleading for Bianca.

He was pleading for you. For the life he’d tasted and already couldn’t bear to lose.

And you held him there, crying quietly into his collar, knowing that love—no matter how real—was not enough to change fate.

The second Theo entered the hospital wing, every instinct in his body screamed the same reckless, impossible thing.

Grab you. Grab Bianca. Apparate.

Disappear so completely that no one would ever find you again.

His mother had family in Italy—old blood, old names, people who still believed hospitality was sacred. They would open their doors. They would help you. They would protect you.

How hard could it be, really, to end up on their doorstep with a frightened child and a woman he loved?

Too easy.

Too selfish.

You didn’t even look at him when the thought flickered across his face. You simply squeezed Bianca’s hand and guided her forward, gentle but firm. You knew if you looked back at him, you would be all to convinced to leave together.

Theo swallowed hard, the bitterness rising sharp and ugly in his throat.

All he wanted—all he had ever wanted—was for the three of you to be happy. Together. Why was that such an impossible thing to ask for? Why did it feel like the universe kept dangling it just close enough for him to taste before ripping it away?

He knew the truth, even if it tore him apart.

Bianca belonged with his older self. The man who chose to have her. The man who could protect her. The man who could stay.

But she was his daughter too—damn it. Flesh of his flesh. Blood of his blood. And the thought of letting her go felt like carving something vital out of his chest.

You knelt in front of Bianca, pulling her into a tight embrace. You kissed her forehead, whispered words she couldn’t possibly understand, and said as little as you could. Her fingers were small and warm in yours, but they grew slick with sweat as she glanced around at the unfamiliar adults. She tightened her grip, grounding herself the only way she knew how, holding onto you like she could anchor the moment in place.

Theo watched, throat burning.

Then he knelt too.

He’d done it a thousand times—tying her shoes, wiping tears from her cheeks, crouching to her level when he needed her attention—but this time his knees hit the stone floor harder than usual. Pain flared and vanished, eclipsed by something far worse. His hands trembled as they came up to cup her cheeks, thumbs brushing over her skin slowly, reverently—like he was trying to memorize the exact warmth of her.

“Hey.” He said softly.

His voice cracked immediately.

He closed his eyes, jaw tightening, and tried again, “Bambina.” (Little one)

Her eyes lifted to his.

Just like yours—wide, glassy, endlessly deep. Like looking into a pool of pearlescent ink that reflected too much truth.

“Ti vedrò presto, amore.” He said gently, brushing a curl back from her face. (I’ll see you soon, love.)

“Le cose saranno un po’ diverse…” His breath hitched, “Ma devi avere pazienza, va bene? Andrà tutto bene.” (Things will be a little different… but you need to be patient, okay? Everything will be fine.)

Bianca studied him with grave seriousness, like she was weighing his words carefully.

Then—suddenly—her face lit up.

“Oh!” She said brightly, “Come quella volta.” (Oh! Like that time.)

Theo blinked, “Come quando?” (Like when?)

“Come quando sei andato via con la mamma.” She explained easily. (Like when you went away with Mama.)

His chest tightened, “Quando?” (When?)

“Quando siete andati in ospedale.” She continued, rocking on her feet. (When you went to the hospital.)

"E poi sei tornato a casa felice." (And then you came home with happiness.)

Theo’s breath caught violently.

The room tilted.

"Felice?" He asked quietly, feeling like hell. (Happy?)

The word felt wrong in his mouth.

A cold, sickening thought slithered into his mind.

Was he happy when you passed?

His chest tightened, panic blooming sharp and fast, bile rising in his throat. His hands trembled where they rested, heart pounding so hard it hurt.

Then—

Bianca tilted her head, frowning slightly—confused by his confusion.

“Quando sei tornato con il mio fratellino, Felice.” She said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. (When you came back with my little brother, Felice.)

The world went very, very still.

Blood rushed through Theo’s head so fast he swayed, knees locking as though a feather could knock him over.

“Tuo… fratello?” He repeated hoarsely. (Your… brother?)

She nodded, curls bouncing. “Sì.” (Yes.)

“È piccolo,” She added solemnly, “Piange tanto.” (He’s little. He cries a lot.)

The hospital.

You being sick.

Too sick to carry her. Too sick to eat breakfast.

The reason Bianca hadn’t seemed sad. The reason she’d been so independent.

Not because you were going to die.

But because you were making room for someone new.

Felice.

Happiness.

Everything slid into place with sickening, breathtaking clarity.

“Oh." Theo breathed.

Bianca reached up, cupping his cheek with her small, warm hand.

“Non piangere, papà,” She whispered. (Don’t cry, Papa.)

He hadn’t even realized he was crying until that moment.

Salazar—this was mortifying. Breaking down like this. In front of professors. In front of you. In front of a three-year-old.

And yet—he couldn’t stop.

Tears spilled freely now, hot and unrestrained.

Because now he knew.

He would be happy. He would love you. And you would love him back.

You would build a life together. Two children. Maybe more. A family so warm and whole that Bianca would speak of it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

His children would never have to imagine a future without their mother.

He would never have to watch them grow up with that hollow ache he’d carried his entire life.

He would never have to watch you get sick, watch you leave this world, leaving him alone to raise your daughter, the last remaining memory of you.

Theo pulled Bianca into his chest, holding her like he could imprint the feeling into his bones—her weight, her warmth, the steady beat of her heart.

“Ti amo.” He choked, “Ti amo tantissimo.” (I love you so, so much.)

Her arms wrapped around his neck—fierce and small.

You stared at the pair of them, heart aching, mind reeling. You felt for Theo—deeply—but shock quickly overtook sympathy.

Because between the two of them, you had absolutely not expected him to be the one crying.

“…Wait,” You said slowly. “What’s going on?”

Bianca turned her head as best she could while still buried against Theo’s chest.

“Papa says he loves me, mamma,” She announced cheerfully, “You’re too slow these days.”

Both of you froze.

“…You speak English?” You and Theo said in unison.

bonus:

The room was finally quiet.

Bianca was gone—sent back to a future that suddenly felt more real than the present—and Theo’s bedroom felt too large without her small presence filling it. The curtains were half-drawn, moonlight spilling across the sheets in pale silver bands. You lay on your side facing Theo, your head tucked beneath his chin, his arm resting loosely around your waist.

Theo was on the cusp of sleep, just as he had been for the past hour, but your incessant thinking refused to let him go.

“But if Bianca hadn’t come back,” You murmured, staring up at the shifting shadows on the ceiling, “we would’ve just… gone on with our lives.”

He hummed softly, half-asleep but listening, his thumb tracing absentminded shapes into your side.

“And we wouldn’t have fallen in love,” You continued, the words tumbling out faster now, like if you didn’t say them you’d drown in them, “And if we didn’t fall in love, she wouldn’t exist. Which means she wouldn’t be able to come back and make us fall in love in the first place.”

You turned your face into his chest, your voice muffled, “So at the center of the loop—at the very beginning—there had to be a version of us that fell in love and had Bianca without any intervention at all.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy but not empty.

Then Theo sighed, fond and exhausted and deeply amused in that way that meant he loved you too much to be irritated.

“(Y/N), my love… amore mio,” He said gently. He had taken to repeating everything in Italian after English so it would help you learn faster. You felt his chest rise as he spoke again, slower and deliberate. “My future bride… la mia futura sposa. It is four in the morning.”

You groaned softly. “I know,” You sighed, “I just… I miss her.”

His arm tightened around you, grounding and warm, “Me too.”

For a moment, that was all there was—breathing, moonlight, and the quiet certainty that somewhere, somehow, the two of you were happy and whole.

Then Theo shifted.

You felt it before you saw it: the subtle slide of his hand, warm fingers sneaking beneath the hem of your shirt like he thought you wouldn’t notice.

“Say the word, dolcezza,” He murmured, his voice dipping into something unmistakably dangerous, “and I’ll bring her back to us.”

You slapped his hand away without even looking.

“It is four in the morning.” You said flatly.

He chuckled, low and unapologetic, eyes still closed like this was all part of his master plan, “Italiano, per favore.”

You hesitated, “Um… sono...sono le… una, due, tre, quattro… quattro del mattino?” (Um...it's....one, two three, four....four in the morning?)

“Perfetta,” He said smugly, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “Your accent is getting better.”

bonus bonus teehee:

The front door closed with a quiet, final click behind you.

For a moment, you just stood there.

The house felt different somehow—too still, like it had been holding its breath. Sunlight spilled through the front windows, dust motes floating lazily in the air. The sofa. The stairs. The framed photos waiting to be filled with memories that hadn’t happened yet.

Home.

You looked down at the bundle in your arms, your baby boy wrapped in impossibly soft blankets, his face pink and sleepy and perfect. Tears blurred your vision before you even realized they were coming.

Theo stepped in behind you, arms full—hospital bags slung over his shoulders, a car seat awkwardly balanced against his hip. He froze when he saw your face.

“Hey.” He murmured gently.

You turned, blinking hard, then leaned into him anyway, pressing a soft kiss to his lips—slow, grounding, full of everything you didn’t have words for. Then you kissed Felice’s tiny forehead, breathing him in like you’d been afraid he might disappear.

“Bentornato a casa, piccolo,” You whispered, voice shaking, “This is where you’re going to grow up.” (Welcome home, baby boy)

Theo swallowed, eyes shining. He reached out, brushing one finger over Felice’s cheek like he couldn’t quite believe he was real.

And then—

“MAMMA!”

Footsteps thundered down the stairs.

Bianca came flying into the hallway, curls bouncing wildly, socks half-slipping off her feet. Mattheo, her godfather, was right behind her, laughing and reaching out uselessly like he could actually stop her.

“Bianca—piano, piano!” He called, “Slow down—!”

Theo reacted instantly.

He dropped the bags without a second thought and scooped Bianca up mid-run, lifting her clean off the ground just before she could crash straight into you. She shrieked with laughter as he spun her once, relief spilling out of him in a dozen breathless kisses pressed to her cheeks, her temple, her nose.

You watched them with a soft, aching smile.

Your heart lurched at the sight of your baby girl in his arms—hair wild, eyes bright, whole and glowing with excitement. You had missed her more than you’d allowed yourself to admit during the last few days. Every quiet moment in the hospital had carried the echo of her laughter, the absence of her small weight climbing into your lap.

You had been waiting eagerly to acquaint your children.

Theo had insisted it was better this way. Better for your recovery, better that you didn’t have to juggle between children so soon. He’d been gentle but unmovable about it, the same way he’d been your entire pregnancy—this one and Bianca’s.

At the first sign of discomfort, he’d been apparating you straight to the hospital wing or summoning your healer for a home visit without hesitation. You’d teased him once that your obstetrician must be thoroughly sick of him by now.

But judging by the way Theo paid—promptly, generously, without ever blinking—and by the fine silk scarf and expensive purse he’d gifted the healer who brought both of his children into the world, you suspected annoyance was the last thing they felt.

If anything, they were probably fond of him.

“Hey—hey—hey,” He murmured into her hair, “Careful, amore mio. Papà’s got you.”

Theo finally stopped spinning, still holding Bianca securely against his chest. He pressed one last kiss into her curls and rested his forehead briefly against hers, eyes closed like he was grounding himself.

And you realized, with a sudden, overwhelming tenderness—

And despite the 36 hours of grueling labor, you realized that, for this man, you would do it all again in a heartbeat.

Theo shifted Bianca onto one hip, still holding her tight as if she might vanish if he let go. Her laughter softened into a happy hum as she curled into him, arms looped around his neck.

Then her eyes finally landed on you.

On the bundle in your arms.

“Mamma?” She whispered, voice suddenly small.

You felt your throat close instantly.

“Vieni qui, amore,” You murmured, smiling through the sting behind your eyes, “Piano, va bene?” (Come here, love. Easy, okay?)

Theo crouched, keeping Bianca safely lifted as he guided her closer, one protective hand braced at her back. Mattheo lingered a few steps behind, unusually quiet, waiting for the family to have their moment.

Bianca leaned forward, peering into the soft folds of the blanket.

The baby stirred, tiny fingers flexing, lips puckering in a half-sleepy frown.

Her gasp was barely a sound.

“È… piccolo,” She breathed, "He's smaller than me."

Theo huffed out a soft laugh, eyes glassy.

You tilted Felice just enough so she could see his face properly. His eyes fluttered open for a brief second—dark, unfocused, brand new.

Bianca’s hand twitched like she wanted to reach out, then froze mid-air.

“Posso?” She asked, glancing up at you for permission. (Can I?)

“Yes,” You whispered, “Gently.”

Felice shifted again, a soft sound leaving him, and Bianca’s eyes went impossibly wide.

"He spoke to me." She gasped.

Theo pressed his lips together hard, eyes shining as he bent to kiss the side of Bianca’s head, then yours. His free hand came up to cradle you, thumb stroking slow, careful circles like he was afraid the moment might shatter.

“This,” he said quietly, voice thick, “is Felice, your little brother.”

Bianca straightened immediately.

“Felice,” She repeated, testing the name. Then she smiled, bright and sure, “Ciao, Felice. Io sono Bianca.”

The baby slept on, oblivious.

Mattheo cleared his throat, rubbing at his eyes like something had gotten in them, "Merlin, enough to make a grown man cry."

And standing there in the doorway of your home, with laughter in the air and your children between you, you knew—

This was it.

This was the life Bianca had promised.

Happy.

bonus bonus BONUS scene for my patient babies:

The one thing about living in Italy was that you missed the company.

Not the weather, not the food—certainly not the wine—but them. The loud, sharp-edged comfort of people who knew you before the life you’d built now. The friends who felt less like friends and more like family, forged in dungeons and late nights and shared survival.

The friends you’d left behind at Hogwarts.

You thanked every higher power you could think of that Mattheo had moved here a few years after Bianca was born. It softened the ache. Made the distance feel survivable.

And now—now that it was Bianca’s sixth birthday, the first child in the entire group to hit that milestone—the rest of them had descended to Italy like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Thank goodness Slytherins were rich.

Draco and Blaise were already deep in conversation near the terrace doors, voices low and animated, catching up like no time had passed at all. Lorenzo and Mattheo, meanwhile, had somehow been tricked—lured, really—into assembling Bianca’s princess castle in the middle of the sitting room.

That would teach them to bring gifts that required instructions.

Bianca hovered nearby like a general overseeing her troops, crown slightly askew, offering entirely unhelpful instructions. Felice, on the other hand, had claimed the discarded wrapping paper as his own, even though his uncles had been kind enough to bring presents for him as well.

Instead, he toddled around the sitting room, triumphantly dragging the empty box the princess castle had come in behind him, until Theo scooped him up at the last second—saving him from the scattered screws as Mattheo struggled to put the thing together.

Theo hovered near you like a shadow, as he always did these days. One hand rested habitually—possessively—against the small of your back, grounding, warm. The other balanced Felice on his hip, your son’s face still slightly sticky with cake frosting as he played absently with the little tie you’d put him in today.

Then the front doors flew open.

“MISS ME, YOU MISERABLE BASTARDS?”

Pansy Parkinson’s voice sliced clean through the manor.

Theo barely had time to turn before she was already there—flinging her coat into Draco’s arms without looking, heels clicking furiously across the marble floor. Her eyes found you instantly.

Her face lit up.

“Oh my God—” She started, already smiling—

Then she stopped.

Her gaze dropped.

Paused.

Lifted.

Dropped again.

You barely had time to blink before—

SMACK.

Theo yelped, jerking back, hand flying to his arm, “What the hell—?!”

Pansy rounded on him like a woman possessed, “Can you PLEASE stop climbing on top of this poor woman?”

You laughed helplessly, one hand instinctively moving to your stomach.

Theo stared at her, scandalized, “Excuse you—”

“Salazar’s balls,” Pansy cut in, eyes wild, “How many children are you planning on having? Fancy your own Quidditch team, do you?!”

“How many children we decide to have is none of you—”

“And she is not an oven to keep popping out your buns,” Pansy said sweetly, patting his shoulder like she was doing him a favor, “Control yourself.”

Theo spluttered, “It’s not like I could carry them myself, now could I?!”

“You’re a wizard,” She snapped back, “I think you could figure it out!”

You tried—tried—to regain control, “Pansy—”

She turned on a dime, expression melting instantly as she crossed the space between you and pulled you into a careful hug.

“Oh, come here,” She murmured, “Look at you. Absolutely glowing.”

You laughed against her shoulder.

“I get it,” She added thoughtfully, pulling back to look at you again, “If I were Theo, I’d be filling you up with kids too.”

Theo opened his mouth.

SMACK.

“Do not.” Pansy warned.

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